Song Hye-kyo has been dating her much younger boyfriend for months, keeping things sweet and patient. Tonight, after a quiet dinner, she finally guides him through his first time with gentle femdom, loving care, and plenty of pleasure in this fluffy, intimate one-shot.
---
The apartment was quiet except for the soft hum of the refrigerator and the faint sound of rain tapping against the windows. Hye-kyo had just finished clearing the table after the simple dinner we’d shared — grilled salmon, rice, and some banchan she’d taught me to make last weekend. She moved with that graceful ease she always had, even in casual home clothes: an oversized cream sweater that slipped off one shoulder and soft black shorts that showed off her long, toned legs.
I watched her from the couch, heart beating a little faster than usual. We had been together for almost five months now. She was thirty-eight, successful, elegant, and one of the most beautiful women I had ever seen. I was twenty-three, still figuring out life after university, and somehow she had chosen me. The age gap had never felt like a problem — not when she looked at me like I was the only person in the room.
She came over and sat beside me, tucking her legs under her. Her hand found mine naturally, fingers interlacing. “You’ve been quiet tonight,” she said softly, thumb stroking the back of my hand. “Nervous about something?”
I swallowed. We had talked about taking things further many times. She had always been patient, never pushing, even when I got shy and awkward. Tonight, after weeks of building tension and sweet kisses that left us both breathing harder, I had finally told her I was ready.
“A little,” I admitted. “I’ve never… done this before. With anyone.”
Hye-kyo’s expression softened even more. She cupped my face with her free hand, thumb brushing my cheek. “I know, baby. And that’s okay. We don’t have to do anything you’re not comfortable with. But if you want to… I’ll take care of you. I promise.”
Her voice was gentle but carried that quiet confidence that always made me feel safe. I nodded, leaning into her touch. “I want to. With you.”
She smiled, the kind of smile that made her eyes crinkle at the corners, and leaned in to kiss me. It started soft, familiar — the same slow kisses we had shared on the couch many nights. But this time there was a new intention behind it. Her tongue brushed mine, teasing, as her hand slid down my chest.
“Come to the bedroom,” she whispered against my lips.
I followed her down the short hallway, heart hammering. The bedroom was warm, lights dimmed low. She closed the door behind us and turned to face me, hands resting on my waist.
“Relax,” she said, kissing me again. “We go at your pace. If you want to stop, we stop. Okay?”
“Okay.”
She helped me out of my shirt first, fingers tracing my chest and stomach with light touches that made me shiver. Then she pulled her own sweater over her head, revealing a simple black bra that held her full breasts. I had seen her in bikinis before during beach trips, but this felt different — more intimate, more real.
“You’re beautiful,” I breathed, unable to stop staring.
Hye-kyo smiled and reached behind to unhook her bra. Her breasts spilled free, heavy and perfect, nipples already hardening in the cool air. She took my hands and placed them on her chest.
“Touch me,” she said softly. “However you want.”
I cupped them gently, thumbs brushing over her nipples. She hummed in approval, leaning into my touch. I grew bolder, squeezing softly, then leaning down to kiss one. When I took her nipple into my mouth and sucked lightly, she moaned, fingers threading through my hair.
“That’s good, baby… just like that.”
I lavished attention on her breasts, sucking and licking while my hands explored her waist and hips. She eventually pulled me up for another deep kiss, then guided me to sit on the edge of the bed. She knelt between my legs, hands resting on my thighs.
“Can I take these off?” she asked, fingers at my waistband.
I nodded. She pulled my pants and boxers down together, freeing my hard cock. It sprang up, already leaking at the tip. Hye-kyo wrapped her soft hand around the base and stroked slowly, eyes fixed on it with clear appreciation.
“So pretty,” she murmured. “And so hard for me already.”
She leaned in and licked a slow stripe from base to tip, then swirled her tongue around the head. The blowjob started gentle — soft kisses, light licks, her warm breath teasing me. Then she took me into her mouth, sucking softly at first before taking more. Her head bobbed slowly, tongue pressing against the underside as she worked me deeper.
“Fuck… Hye-kyo…” I groaned, hand gently in her hair.
She hummed around me, the vibration shooting pleasure up my spine. Spit dripped down my shaft as she sucked harder, one hand stroking the base while the other gently massaged my balls. She pulled off for air, stroking me fast with her slick hand.
“You taste good,” she whispered, looking up at me. “I could do this for hours.”
She took me back into her mouth, sucking with more purpose until I was throbbing. I warned her I was close, but she kept going, eyes locked on mine. I came hard down her throat with a groan. She swallowed every drop, licking me clean afterward with a satisfied smile.
“Good boy,” she praised softly, kissing the tip. “Now lie back.”
I did, and she climbed on top, straddling my waist. She had taken off her shorts earlier, and I could feel how wet she was against my stomach. She reached down and stroked me back to hardness, then guided my cock to her entrance.
“Ready?” she asked, voice gentle.
I nodded. She sank down slowly, taking me inch by inch. The heat and tightness were overwhelming. Hye-kyo moaned softly, eyes closing for a moment as she adjusted.
“So big… you fill me so well, baby.”
She started riding me in cowgirl, slow and deep at first. Her breasts bounced gently with every movement. I reached up and cupped them, squeezing and sucking on her nipples while she rode. She moaned louder, hips rolling in smooth circles.
“Feels so good,” she breathed. “I love having you inside me.”
I thrust up to meet her, making her gasp. She picked up the pace, bouncing faster, hands on my chest for leverage. Her moans filled the room as she chased her pleasure. I rubbed her clit with my thumb, and she came hard, pussy clenching around me as she squirted lightly, warm fluid coating my stomach.
She kept riding through it, then leaned down to kiss me messily. “Your turn. Cum inside mommy.”
The word slipped out naturally, and it pushed me over the edge. I gripped her hips and thrust up deep, filling her with thick ropes of cum. She moaned into my mouth, grinding down to take every drop.
We stayed connected for a while, kissing softly. Then she climbed off and lay beside me, pulling me into her arms. Her hand stroked my back gently as we caught our breath.
“How do you feel?” she asked, kissing my forehead.
“Amazing,” I whispered. “Thank you for being so patient with me.”
She smiled, holding me closer. “I love you. We have all the time in the world. This was just the beginning.”
We talked quietly after that — about how it felt, what we both liked, little things that made us laugh. She was so caring, so attentive, making sure I felt loved and safe the whole time.
Later, we tried another position. She lay on her back and pulled me on top again, guiding me inside her in missionary. This time it was slower, more intimate, eyes locked as I thrust deep. She wrapped her legs around me, heels digging into my back, whispering encouragement and praise.
“You’re doing so well, baby… feels perfect inside me.”
I sucked on her breasts again while moving inside her, making her moan and arch. She came once more, squirting around my cock, and I followed, filling her with another load.
We fell asleep tangled together, her head on my chest, leg thrown over mine. Hye-kyo stroked my hair until I drifted off, whispering how proud she was of me, how much she loved me.
Being with an older woman like her felt like the best kind of gift. She was patient, experienced, and so full of love. And I was the luckiest guy in the world to be hers.
You sway sideways in your seat as the train lurches forward. The cool air entering through the open window compliments your surroundings: sterile and unnecessarily bright.
It’s not as crowded as it is in the morning. One of the few good things about working late into the night. You look around. Someone’s asleep across from you, another is bouncing their knees, clutching their bag tightly. Another man sighs, loosening his tie.
You do the same.
Your laptop bag rest heavily on your thighs. Your head gently falls back onto the window behind, a gentle thud echoing through the carriage. You close your eyes and let the music hum quietly through your headphones.
Her voice fills your ears.
Warm and familiar.
You can’t help the smile creeping on your face.
You haven’t seen Park Minju in years. In person at least. You watched and voted for her constantly on that survival show she participated in a year or so back. And now you hear her almost everyday since her debut.
Your middle and index fingers tap your bag absentmindedly in time with the instrumental. They alternate, a rhythmic walk across an imaginary E-string. Slow at first. Faster when you get fully immersed in it. Whoever did this arrangement is good. Very good.
It’s catchy and addictive. Something that would make people repeat the song again and again.
Your smile grows wider when you hear her voice again. It’s clear and dreamy, almost honey-like in the way she hits her high notes.
She used to go red when you asked her to sing, and she kept making excuses, stuttering, waving her hands in front of her face like it’s the last thing she wanted to do. You told her it was for your timing—the festival performance, you needed someone to play off. She couldn’t say no after that. You played slower than normal that day. Slower than you needed to.
Back when your hands were callused and smelt faintly of metal strings instead of printer ink and cheap, office coffee.
The thought makes you let out a quiet breath out your nose.
The music is suddenly interrupted by a notification ping. Your eyes open briefly—HYBE Entertainment, subject line: Regarding an anonymous cover. You close your eyes again. Some promotional spam. If it’s important, they can find some other way to contact you.
The music resumes just as the chorus swells louder in your ears, layered vocals wrapping around the infectious beat underneath it. You can make out all the members now, but your favourite is still Minju. Soft and angelic and has an inexplicable way of soothing you.
Your fingers tap harder against your bag, loud enough that the woman beside you glances over briefly before returning her gaze to her phone.
You don’t notice it. Instead, you tap your headphone cup three times, replaying the song. Again and again because you can never grow tired of it.
Your eyes scrunch when you hear your favourite part. The bass here is exquisite, loud enough to feel its impact but it won’t overpower their vocals. It’s subtle. People won’t think twice about it.
Around the fifth play, your phone rings, ruining the experience. You slowly open your eyes, lifting your phone to your eyes.
It’s her brother.
You forcefully exhale, staring at his name for a second before answering.
“What?” The passengers stare at you, looks of disbelief as you answered your phone on the train. You bow your head in apology, cupping your hand over your mouth to continue talking. “Make this quick. I’m on the train.”
“Wow,” your best friend says immediately. “Hello to you too. Didn’t work end like three hours ago?”
You snort softly despite yourself. “Yeah… well… we’re busy these days.”
“When aren’t you?”
You ignore that comment.
The line goes quiet for a moment before he speaks again, more carefully this time.
“Minju was here today. Had dinner with us.”
You freeze.
Minju sitting at the dining table, her elbow resting on the surface with her chin propped up. Her eyes on you as you cut up fruit for her to eat. You knew she was staring, could see her through the reflection on the window. So when you turned, and saw her elbow slip, her eyes forced to look down as her face grew a brighter shade of red, you wanted to laugh. Instead, you gently pushed the tray of fruit in front of her, held out a fork, and waited for her to take a bite.
The speaker announces the upcoming station, muffled beneath your headphones as people are getting up ready to leave. You stay there though, not moving, eyes staring blankly ahead of you.
You swallow thickly before answering. “How is she?”
“Good. Just finished her promotions for the new comeback. You’ve been listening?”
You make a noncommittal sound.
“Anyway, she mentioned they’re going on a tour soon.”
“Yeah?”
“Mhmm. Everything’s pretty hectic for her right now. Apparently their tour director is obssessed with this instrumental cover of their debut song. Is looking for the person behind it.”
Your eyes immediately go to the notification still sitting unread at the top of your screen. You open it, read through it quickly, eyes widening and thumb scrolling faster until you reach the end of the message. You lower the phone slowly.
You release a breath you didn’t know you were holding. It’s so cold in the underground, you can see your breath escape you. “That’s nice.”
“It is. Can you imagine being so good that they want you touring with the group?”
“I—I can’t.”
He stays quiet for a beat before whispering. “They’re asking about you again.”
“W—why?”
You hear an exasperated sigh from the other end. “Look—mom and dad miss you, are worried about you. I keep giving them lame excuses like how you’re busy—”
“I am busy.”
“So busy you can’t even visit?”
Silence.
You exhale, caving first. “I’m sorry. There’s no excuse.” The train halts at your station. You get up, check you didn’t leave anything before exiting and making your way off the platform. “I’ll find the time.”
“Just message them every now and then okay? It’s annoying having to answer all their questions about you.”
He hangs up.
The music starts playing through your headphones again. Her voice fills your ears again, soft and familiar, and now you can’t hear it the same way.
Your eyes drop to the notification still sitting open on your screen.
----
You step out into the streets, pulling your coat tighter against the cold. It’s empty, different from the mornings where people rush around to catch the train or flag down taxis but you’re used to this by now.
Your headphones starts beeping before dying.
“Dammit.”
You pull them off your head, letting it rest loosely against your neck. It’s quiet, something you’re not quite used to, always with your headphones on. Without them, the city feels eerie, like it’s been deserted.
You continue towards your apartment—until a familiar melody drifts through the steam of a nearby red tent food stall.
It’s her voice, stripped of its crisp sound you usually hear in your ears, mixing with the smell of tteokbokki and seeping through the red tent walls. You stop, your heart doing a strange, slow roll in your chest, and for the first time in years, you realise that you aren’t just listening to her, but you’re standing in the world she conquered.
You stay just outside of the tent, hidden from the owners , listening to her songs accompanied by loud food orders, and the clink of soju bottles against each other. A small smile tugs at your lips.
When she started auditioning, she always came to you after. Despite telling you she didn’t want you waiting outside, her face would light up seeing you there. She’d talk with her hands when she was excited, gesturing wildly about what she’d fix next time, barely pausing for breath. You never had to say much. Just listen while she figured it out herself.
You start walking again, the city feeling a lot smaller now.
You eventually make it to the crosswalk, pausing at the red light. Sixty seconds until you can cross. A bright light catches your attention and you look up to the advertisement board 30 feet in the air to see… her. Minju. Posing for an internationally recognisable clothing brand.
Warmth spreads across your chest.
She’s so different from a few years ago. Light makeup across her features and someone’s taught her how to pose for the camera. The clothes look expensive on her. Or she makes them look expensive, you’re not sure. They look good on her, better than good. The accessories—earrings, rings, bracelets—look like they’re worth more than your annual salary.
She’s thinner than you remember, paler too. Your heart aches at the thought of her overworking herself.
Underneath all that though, you still see glimpses of the girl from high school. The small part of her lips, like she’s halfway between a wide smile and a pout. And her ears. Almost elf-like. Protruding in such a way it’s become her most distinct feature.
Her eyes were puffy, the last time you saw her. Her head was down, like she was afraid to look at you. She would swing on the heels of her feet, occasionally brushing her hair to hide her ears that grew more and more red the longer you stared. Her hands were tight behind her back, like she was gripping something tightly. You never asked what it was.
The crosswalk light turning green breaks you out of your reverie. You look down, and see people walking towards you, and when you look back up to the screen above, she’s gone, replaced by a watch advert you don’t care for.
You shove your hands in your pockets, crossing the road, your mind racing with the email from earlier.
A familiar scent hits you. Citrus. Your head snaps back immediately… it’s not her. Just someone with the same shampoo as her.
Of course it wasn’t her. Why would it be? But the mere thought of her here hurts you more than you realise.
You could see her again.
You pull out your phone, opening the email again, thumb hovering over it.
----
The chair squeaks whenever you adjust your position, your bass rests on your thigh, and your hands are a bit sweaty as you continue tuning and plucking at the strings to get your calluses back. The other musicians tuning their own instruments, assistants running back and forth with items and clipboards, the rehearsal room already humid despite the AC running.
The door behind clicks open and the girls walk in, all casual and bare-faced. The scent reaches you first before anything else. Citrus. You look up from your bass, your eyes finding Minju. She’s the last to enter, dragging her feet along the polished floor, dropping her bag unceremoniously at her seat and heads to the snack bar at the far wall. You watch as her pale hand reaches out for a bottle before turning to her members.
“Does anyone want a bottle?”
All their hands shoot up. She grabs them one at a time, cradling them against her chest. Your eyes stay on her as she waddles her way to her position, the sound of tuning, the AC and the conversations between assistants fading out into a muffled blur. She yawns as she slowly hands them out, her eyelashes bright with tears. Your eyes travel lower, watching how the skin over her throat pulls tight, and the tendons in her neck flex as her mouth opens wide.
You’re so focused on Minju, watching as she flops onto her chair, that you don’t notice that you’re being watched. Your eyes follow the bottle as she hands it to Yunah. Your eyes connect with Yunah’s. There’s a knowing smirk on her face.
Your breath hitches, face flushing red as you look at anything but them, eyes going back to your bass, hands fiddling with the tuning pegs.
In your peripheral, you see Yunah shuffle on her chair, closer to Minju, the bottle covering her mouth as she leans over and whispers something, pointing with her eyes. Minju casually looks over. And her whole body goes rigid. You can’t look at her. Even when she abruptly stands from her chair, chair scraping back. Even when her mouth opens and closes without anything coming out. Your eyes stay on your bass.
Everything stills around you, her manager confused at her behaviour while Yunah laughs, legs lifting off the floor, hands clutching at her stomach.
Minju’s face burns a furious, bright red, bowing in apology to everyone before awkwardly sitting back down. She takes her bottle and unscrews the cap, taking huge gulps as the flush spreads to her ears. She gasps as half the bottle empties and her free hand goes to her hair, fingers threading them, combing them to cover her elf-like ears.
The rest of the girls start looking at you, giggling, and pushing her shoulders, making fun of her. Even your band members start looking, and you can’t help the flush darkening on your cheeks.
“Alright! Let’s get this rehearsal started!”
The director’s voice booms out of the speaker, his breathing caught by the microphone pressed against his lips.
You steal one more look at Minju, catching her looking back at you. Your eyes soften, mouth curling into a quiet, familiar smile. She smiles too, small and shy, as her eyes fall to her lap, playing with the bottle in her hands.
Her heart is loud, hammering against her ears, muffling the instructions from the director. Only when Yunah softly shoves her shoulder does the spell break. She grabs the microphone angling it closer to her mouth just as the rehearsal officially begins.
----
The high-octane energy from the start of the rehearsal dwindles to a slow, almost lethargic vibe. Your fingers are red and raw from the constant strumming and chord progressions, and sweat falls into your eyes and the nonstop action. Mistakes have become commonplace, from both sides. The crisp and professional backing from the band becomes dragging and lazy, and the girls are missing their timings or pitching wrong.
The fluorescent lights above become blinding, the incessant hum of the AC a nuisance especially due to its ineffectiveness. You pull on your shirt a couple times, to get air flowing across your body but it’s no use. You look around and everyone is in the same state. Yunah is falling asleep, and Wonhee is leaning up against Moka.
A heavy sigh from the speakers above turns your head towards the director, pinching at their nose bridge. “Alright. Let’s call it a day. Good work everyone.”
The second the microphone switches off, Minju slumps off the chair, collapsing onto the floor, resting her head heavily on Yunah’s leg. She lays there, a big yawn escaping her before she had time to cover her mouth with her hand. Her nose wrinkles, and her eyes squeeze into crescent shapes as she buries her face into Yunah’s thigh.
When she opens her eyes again, she sees you, your face soft and calm despite the matted hair on your forehead. Neither of you break eye contact, her breathing slowly becoming laboured just as her hands start fiddling with the hem of her sweatshirt. Her eyes travel lower, stopping at your fingers and how red they are, the calluses she’s used to seeing in high school gone.
Their manager enters the room, clapping her hands, ushering them up on their feet. “Let’s go! The van’s waiting.”
You stay seated, even as the other members begin unplugging their instruments, putting them in their cases, rolling the cables into a tight spool before handing them to the assistants. Your eyes stay on Minju, as she’s pulled to her feet by Yunah, clumsily falling into her. You smile despite yourself, one hand moving to grab your guitar case beside you. Your fingers flip the latch up just as a band member pats your shoulder on their way out, gently placing your bass inside.
You look up as people begin filtering out, saying their goodbyes as you bow to each and everyone of them. The room grows quieter and emptier with every second. Until it’s just you and Minju, who stayed back, tying shoelaces that didn’t need to be tied. You look back down to your case, pushing the latches down, securing the case. You stand, eyes closed, hands at the small of your back as you stretch for a few seconds.
Your eyes open just as Minju finishes tying her shoelaces. She stands, dusting her knees off before hurriedly walking to you before her manager sees. You glance at her from the corner of your eye. She’s not looking at you, eyes trained on the floor as she makes her way over to you. There’s something in her hand, white and torn. Her fingers graze your palm before you can register it, leaving behind a small, torn corner of the lyric sheet.
Your head turns, following her as she walks to the exit, stopping briefly to look back at you. Her eyes intensely gaze back at you, cheeks flushed pink. There’s no smile on her face, her lips a thin, tight line, and her jaw is set.
Your hand tightens its grip on the piece of paper.
She turns back to the door and exits without another word.
You bring your hand with the paper up, slowly unfurling your fist and the paper inside. Scrawled in her rushed, yet familiar handwriting is a phone number. Her new phone number. And underneath that, a single time.
Your thumb gently traces the ink.
11:30PM
----
The bedroom door slams heavily shut. One hand grabs one end of the towel draped over your shoulders, rubbing the back of your head furiously. Your room is dark, save for the warm, yellow light from your bedside lamp and the cold, blue light from your phone as it vibrates awake on your desk. You pull the towel from your shoulders, throwing it into the hamper before making your way to grab your phone from its charger.
You glance at your phone. 11:25PM. Five minutes left. You’re pacing back and forth, going through what you’re going to say.
How have you been?
No. You’ve been following her since her debut, got updates from her brother. That wouldn’t work.
Your heart rate starts picking up, your phone slightly slipping from your grip with how clammy it’s gotten. You’re still scripting the conversation in your head, but every option feels forced or awkward. Like you’re strangers.
Your eyes travel back to your nightstand as your alarm clock flips from 11:25 to 11:26. Four minutes left. The silence in your room is heavy, suffocating, and is measured by the agonising slow crawl of the seconds ticking along.
The overhead departure board. The 5:45PM train to Seoul, already pulling in.
Her small shoes enter your vision. You look up. She’s bundled up in a new thick coat from her parents and a red, woolly scarf you bought her last year. You look at her face, at the small tears threatening to fall from the corner of her eyes, to her nose and her ears, both red from the cold winds.
You took one step forward, gently taking hold of the scarf, pulling it off her before adjusting its length.
“Seoul can be very cold. Make sure you dress warmly.”
You loop the scarf around her neck, your knuckles brushing her skin beneath her jaw—a touch that left her skin burning.
“And make sure you eat properly. Call me if you need any money.”
You don’t rush. Your fingers expertly tuck the loose ends over her chest, smoothing the fabric down until she’s bundled against the cold air.
“I’ll answer the phone. No matter what.”
Your eyes travel to hers. She hasn’t said anything but she’s staring at you intensely, as if she’s trying to memorise every little feature of your face: where your dimples are when you smile or your laugh lines around your mouth. Your hands and your eyes travel down her arms. You see her hands, hidden behind her back, her knuckles gripped so tightly around an envelope that they’re turning white. You squeeze her arms, your eyes finding her face again. Your mouth opens but nothing comes out, just as she averts her gaze elsewhere.
The alarm on your phone rings violently in your hands. 11:30PM. You take a seat on the edge of your bed, clearing your throat.
You hit dial.
And she answers the phone on the very first ring.
“Hi.”
“Hi.”
The silence stretches. Everything you had scripted evaporates at her first word.
“So—”
“How—”
You both pause mid-sentence, both cutting yourselves off. You feel your ears go red as you stare at the blank wall ahead of you.
She’s moving. You can hear rustling from the other end of the phone before she speaks again. “You go first.”
“Uh…”
What do you say?
“Y—Yunah… she was staring at me a lot during rehearsal.”
A muffled, embarrassed groan comes through the speaker.
“Th—that’s just how she is. She likes to tease me all the time.”
“Ah… okay.” You lean back until your shoulders hit your mattress. “So… are you two close?”
A pause.
She pulls the blanket over her head, phone sandwiched between her pillow and her ear in the dark. “Yeah… really close.”
“What did she whisper to you to make you stand straight up like that anyway?”
Minju freezes, remembering Yunah’s teasing comments about you. She tucks her legs closer to her chest, pulling more of the blanket over her. She forces her voice to sound casual whilst hiding her racing heart. “I… rather not talk about it.”
You smile softly. You want to probe further, but you’ll let it go. For now.
You spin on your bed until your head falls on the foot of the bed and your feet plant themselves on the wall just above the headboard. You close your eyes, breathing deeply before opening them again at the ceiling. It’s really white.
“Are they taking care of you? Properly?”
She doesn’t answer for a beat.
“Yes… we’re fine.” She hesitates, a small crack in her voice tells you she’s exhausted. “I have them. And the other groups. We all take care of each other.”
Her thumb moves to her mouth as she starts biting her fingernail. You’re quiet on the other end. She’s not sure if you believe her.
She turns again in her bed, lying on her front, head poking out of the blanket and her feet swinging in the air.
“Your hands… they were really red today. The calluses are gone.”
A self-deprecating chuckle filters through the phone. “Typing on keyboards isn’t the same as plucking strings.”
Another stretch of silence. Minju bites her lip, and an uncomfortable ache hits her chest when she realises you’re hurting yourself to be here.
“It’s okay. A few more rehearsals and they’ll get better.”
“R—right.”
The door to her room swings open, banging against the wall. “Unnie.”
Minju’s eyes widen underneath the blanket, her feet stop swinging, and her heart rate picks up. Panicking, she covers the microphone, whispering frantically, and breathlessly.
“I have to go. Someone’s here.”
“Okay. Goodn—”
The call abruptly disconnects with a dull click. You let the phone fall onto the mattress beside you as her voice echoes in your ear, a sharp contrast to the absolute silence in your dark room.
----
You push the door open to the now familiar rehearsal room. It’s early, barely 2:00PM. You hope to get some practice done before the session begins.
You’re wrong.
Minju and the others are already here, an hour early before the start time of 3:00PM, huddled together in a small circle on the floor. Your eyes find her instantly, just as she covers her mouth, laughing at something Moka said. The corners of your mouth curve upwards at how carefree she looks. Grey pullover hoodie, hood up, the fabric bunching behind her ears.
You walk to your seat, bowing to those who caught your eye, swinging the case onto the chair before unclasping the buckles. You pull your bass out, and when you look up, she’s already looking back at you. Her eyes soften, a small, quiet smile on her face.
You go to give her a subtle nod, but before you can, your peripheral vision catches Yunah, leaning back on her hands with a sly, knowing smile plastered across her face.
You look away instantly, clearing your throat while pretending to adjust your amp. Walking off to grab a stand from the corner of the room. Pulling the music sheet from your case. Flipping through the pages to find where you left off the day before.
Minju watches your head drop, fixated on the sheet music as if it was the most interesting thing in the world. She bites the inside of her cheek. Even from here, even with her glasses, she can see the light, pink flush crawling up the back of your neck.
“Minju, you’re not even listening,” Moka nudges her shoulder, breaking her concentration, returning her to the circle.
“I am,” Minju lies softly. Both her hands move inside the kangaroo pocket, to the small packet of flesh-coloured band-aids and the small tube of ointment. Her fingers play with them, turning them over as she figures out the best way to give them to you. Her heart hammers against her ribs, loud enough that the girls might hear. She glances at Yunah, who still sports that insufferable, knowing smirk.
Her eyes return to you as she gathers a breath, and pushes herself off the floor.
The laughter in the circle dies instantly. Four pairs of eyes track her as she slowly makes her way to you with an awkward, exaggerated gait, lifting her hip just to drag her unresponsive foot forward. She doesn’t look at them but the heavy weight of their silence feels suffocating. Her eyes stay fixed on you the whole way.
Her sneakers squeak against the polished floor, the noise tearing your eyes away from the sheet music and towards her approaching form. She watches as you smile that smile that gets her heart beating and her brain dizzy, your dimples softly coming out.
You stand just as she reaches you. Her hands, still in her pocket, pull out the ointment and band-aids, holding them out to you with outstretched arms. You look down at them before looking back at her face, bright and pink, and her eyes, stuck on you.
“For—for your hands. Your fingers. Tips.” She takes a deep breath, face hotter than before. “For your fingertips.”
You open your palm and stare at your fingers. Still red but the pain is mostly gone now. The calluses are starting to form.
“You—you need to take care of yourself. Your fingers aren’t used to the bass strings yet.”
You reach out to take them. Your fingers slide against hers. Her skin is soft. Yours aren’t. Your hands completely overlap hers, your palm pressed flat against her knuckles, fingertips gently grazing at her wrist. Her breath hitches, throat closing up as she stands there, frozen, eyes locked on your joined hands.
You don’t say anything. Staring at your hands, you tighten your grip on her ever so slightly, your thumb unconsciously caressing her fingers. Her hands are small and thin and pale compared to yours.
A sharp cough catches your attention. You look past Minju’s shoulder. At Yunah staring dead at them, eyes wide and alert and pointing to the small group of staff in the corner of the room, still oblivious at what’s happening.
Your eyes return to Minju, completely entranced by the sight of her hands in yours, not blinking the whole time. You gently kick her shoe.
“Hey,” you whisper, voice low and urgent. “Go back. They’re looking.”
Minju blinks once. Twice. Three times before nodding frantically, the flush reaching her ears as she reluctantly slips her hands out of yours, leaving the ointment and band-aids, and hurrying back to the circle.
The second she takes a seat, the other four girls swarm around her instantly, shoulders pressed together, forming a wall against the curious eyes of their manager. They whisper-hiss, bombarding her with frantic questions.
“What was that? You looked like you were about to faint.” Moka whispers.
Yunah smiles knowingly. “You got him a gift already? That’s bold. Even for you.”
Her head turns to each and every member as they ask their questions or make their statements. She pulls her hood down, hiding her red ears and crimson cheeks.
“You got it all wrong! He’s… he’s my brother’s friend. I’ve known him since I was young. That’s it.”
They all go quiet, exchanging looks between each other before they all turn to you, blowing on your fingers as you apply ointment to them.
----
“Alright everyone! Good job! See you next week.”
You all collectively release a sigh of relief.
The jitters from the first rehearsal sessions are gone, the pain in your fingers fade thanks in large to the band-aids. The rehearsal was much better. You smile whenever they hit their runs, laugh quietly with the band when one of them makes a mistake before nailing it with the next attempt. You’re more in sync now, and for the first time in a long time, you feel like you can breathe.
You unplug your bass from the amp, laying it gently into its case. When you look up, they’re all staring at you, whispering into Minju’s ears as her face gets redder and redder.
They were staring at you a lot during the session. You wouldn’t have known if your shoulder wasn’t nudged by the guitarist beside you. He pointed with his chin to the other side of the room, to Yunah staring at you like a hawk, a small smirk plastered on her face. Or to Moka, who would turn smiling as soon as your eyes lock on hers.
“I think they like you.”
You laugh it off, looking back down at your bass. When you look up discreetly at Minju, she’s never looking at you, always at the floor or the director or the lyric sheets. You notice, however, throughout the session how her face burns bright, and the amount of empty water bottles scattered around her feet.
You lock the case, closing the clasps before rising to your feet, looking towards her. They’re all still looking at you, heads tilted, mouths parted like they want to ask you something.
“Good luck. See you at the next session.” You bow before them, turning and walking out the room.
The heavy, rehearsal room door clicks shut behind you, cutting the low murmur from the studio. You sling your bass case over your shoulder before making your way towards the elevators. You roll your shoulders, stiff after the 3 hour session, your fingers throbbing slightly under the band-aids, but as you ride the elevator down, the tension in your chest begins to subside. You smile at your reflection in the elevator doors. The rehearsal went well. The music finally working.
The door chimes open to the cafeteria level. You’re greeted by a vast, orange-bathed space from the setting sun. It’s early enough that you’ve managed to beat the usual dinner rush. The tables are mostly empty, and there’s no queue in front of you.
You hoist your case higher on your shoulder before pulling out a plastic tray from the stack. You step up to the first food counter when the distinct, sharp squeak of sneakers echoes around you, followed by a sudden rustling sound and Minju whispering.
“Wait, wait, wait!”
You turn your head just as she stumbles beside you, hands slamming on the stack of trays. She doesn’t look at you, instead turning to look behind her shoulders, eyes widening at the sight. You follow her gaze, to her members hiding behind a plant a few feet back. You see Yunah’s head peeking out, flashing a thumbs up before ducking out of sight, giggling with the others.
Minju turns toward you, eyes wide and throat dry as she tries to speak. “I—”
“You came to eat, right?”
She blinks a couple of times. “Huh? Y—yeah…”
She grabs a tray from the stack and begins to follow you as you slide yours along the rail. You lean over, grabbing stainless steel chopsticks, placing them gently on her tray and yours. You move along, thanking the staff when they hand you the food.
“I—”
You turn your head slightly, your hand reaching for her tray, sliding them both along as you wait for her to continue.
“I had to tell them about you… they wouldn’t stop asking. I’m sorry.”
You snort, grabbing two side dishes, one for each of them. “That explains why they were staring at me.”
She looks up, worried, her hands toying with the hem of her sleeves. “Is that okay? I—I can tell them to leave you alone—”
“I’m more worried about you.” You stop in place, and she bumps into you. “They’re going to ask you about me all the time now. Are you going to be okay with that?”
She opens and closes her mouth a couple of times, both hands gripping her sleeves. Her knuckles turn white, and for a brief moment, you’re reminded of that day on the train platform. She looks up at you again, glasses slightly askew on her face, chin tucked slightly.
“Yes.” It slips out from under her breath, soft and airy but you hear it anyway.
You nod once, dragging both trays along, grabbing everything she loves without asking: kimchi, pickled radishes, beansprouts. Minju stares down at her tray as you work, a hot blush crawling up her neck as she watches your bandaged hand take care of her. The sleek, modern cafeteria dissolves, and for a split second, she’s back in high school, inside the noisy and suffocating cafeteria with questionable food, watching you do the same thing.
The pair of you finally reach the cashier and as you reach for your wallet, Minju reaches out, tapping her card against the reader. “My meals are already covered. This is my treat, Oppa.”
You narrow your eyes playfully at her before jerking your head towards the table. “Lead the way, sunbae.”
“Don’t say that again. Please. That was so weird.”
You laugh, loud and carefree. The few staff that were there all turning to look. You don’t notice, focusing on following Minju to her table.
You gently place your tray across from her. Your bass case slides down your arms, settling beside your chair. Your hand finds the pitcher on the table, and you’re pouring water in a glass for her before she settles on the chair. After placing the glass on her side, you take her plate, cutting her food into manageable pieces without speaking.
She watches you, her shoulders relaxing as she remembers how you used to do the same thing before. Her blush deepens and her hand finds the glass of water, immediately bringing it to her mouth as she takes a gulp. And another. Until it’s empty and she has to refill it.
You just did it. Without her asking.
A sudden burst of giggling breaks the silence. You look up just as Minju slides down her chair, pulling on the chords of her hoodie. Your mouth twitches at the corner as your eyes move above her head, at her members spying on you as they make their way to the cafeteria line. They’re slapping each others’ arms, hopping in place, barely holding it together. Your eyes move to Yunah beside them, corralling them into the line as her eyes stay on you.
Your eyes stay locked onto each other for a couple of seconds. She looks away first.
Her eyes stay on the pitcher, her hands gripping the table as she hears a plate being laid gently onto her tray.
“Eat up.”
She sits up fully on her chair, grabs the chopsticks before taking a bite of her freshly cut food. “They’re really stupid,” she murmurs, her lips curling into a small, fraction of a smile. “I’m sorry.”
You smile, adding more of your food onto her plate. “Don’t be.”
----
Sound engineers and stylists run around you in controlled chaos, last minute checks to make sure everything is perfect for the first night of the tour in Seoul. You feel the roar of the crowd through the walls and floor of the arena, vibrating through the soles of your shoes. The sound eclipses anything you’ve heard before as they wait for the concert to start.
10 minutes to go.
You sit on a heavy travel case just off to the side of the stage, your knees bouncing in a tight, restless rhythm that you can’t seem to stop, your palms damp with sweat that you’re constantly drying with the towel beside you.
A sudden flurry of footsteps turns your head to their manager making last minute requests before moving to the side. You watch as they walk in a single file line, stopping right in front of you, eyes focused, faces set. The comfortable, oversized hoodies and the no makeup look is gone, replaced by pristine stage outfits, and accessories that complement them.
Minju turns her head, eyes finding yours before they travel down to your bouncing knees and your wringing hands. Your eyes never leave her face, at the small jewels adorning just beneath her eyes and her lips, pink and plump.
You had to remind yourself to breathe.
“Nervous, Oppa?”
You almost didn’t hear her, all soft and quiet, a sharp contrast to deafening rumble of the arena. You keep your eyes locked on hers for a couple of seconds, giving her a helpless smile and a small, inconspicuous nod.
She doesn’t hesitate. Reaching into a small, hidden pocket in her outfit, she pulls something small and presses it into your palm, wrapping your fingers around it. Her hands are small but they feel like they encompass yours whole. Minju lingers for a second longer than necessary. You hook your pinky finger around hers like an anchor.
She pulls away just as the director shouts for the band to make their way to the stage. You stand and open your palm to see her favourite sweet strawberry candy, the same ones she had in a jar on her desk back in high school.
A gentle nudge from the drummer has you moving towards the stairs to the stage and you hear sounds of encouragement from the members. You make your way to your position, unwrapping the sweet, popping it into your mouth before picking up your bass.
----
The sound of fifteen thousand people screaming hits you the moment the first note is played. It’s a thrilling yet terrifying energy that pumps directly into your veins, removing any leftover butterflies from your stomach. By the fourth song, you stop counting. Your fingers move of their own accord across the strings, and you no longer need to look at the sheet music, the chords already seared into your brain from all the rehearsals. You aren’t just playing music, you’re flowing with it, following the drums and being completely swept away in the electric energy of the arena.
But no matter how fast you move to a new song or how loud the crowd screams, your eyes always find their way to centre stage.
It’s one thing seeing Minju on your phone screen, dancing to choreo she’s worked on thousands of times or singing against a backing track. It’s another watching her in person, carefree, eyes bright watching the front rows waving their lightsticks and singing along. She sings louder than she ever did in rehearsal, dances harder than you’ve ever seen and you can’t help the eye-reaching smile plastered on your face.
Your eyes stay locked on her form from behind, even as they complete their first ment. The way she’s sipping her water like she’s dying of thirst, her throat bobbing in a rhythm, the water falling to about halfway. How her hands move to her hair, fixing it before adjusting her in-ear piece. You watch as sweat slides down her temple, down to her cheeks, reflecting the bright and heavy stage lights.
Your chest swells at the sight.
The two hours fly by like it's nothing and as they come out again, this time for the encore, wearing their tour merch, you feel the roaring crowd fade. She has little accessories—butterflies—in her hair, and her t-shirt—the same one you’re wearing—hangs off one shoulder, exposing her milky skin.
You don’t listen to what’s happening, you can’t but when she turns to you and starts running, your hand grips the neck of your bass just a little tighter.
“And on the bass!”
That’s your cue. You stand and start playing a riff, the one that got you noticed in the first place. Your eyes close and your head bobs as you feel the crowd roar at the way you play. When you feel a hand on your shoulder, you open your eyes to Minju… right next to you. Her eyes are wide and happy, watching how your hands glide along the strings as she brings her microphone closer. She jumps in front of you, just as a cameraman arrives to capture the moment. Your eyes find her as she begins strumming an air guitar in front of you, laughing and snorting like it was the funniest thing she’s ever done.
And you can’t help the grin that escapes.
You hear gasps and screams from the crowd, and you look behind you at the giant screen. You see yourself and Minju having fun in this little bubble you’ve made for yourself. She’s suddenly beside you again while you were distracted. You watch through the big screen as she makes a heart with your cheeks, much to the delight of her fans and her members.
Your hand slips, and misses a chord.
She’s laughing, doubling over at your mistake before she’s dragged away by Moka back to the centre of the stage.
Your eyes stay on her as you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. Your ears feel warm and red as your heartbeat drowns everything out.
You look back down at your strings. Find your place. Keep playing.
But your eyes go straight back to her.
----
The noise from the newly arriving fans dull in this corridor just off the main stage. It’s quiet, no foot traffic whatsoever, a haven to get your bearings straight after slightly overdoing it during the soundcheck half an hour ago.
You jump up on one of the heavy cases pressed against the wall of the corridor, rolling one of your shoulders and stretching out your fingers. There’s a dull ache in your bones, a soreness in your muscles that wasn’t there during the first night at Seoul. You rub your neck with both hands as you hear the faint shouts of the tour coordinators.
The stop at Osaka has been a mess. A late arrival at the venue meant everyone is rushing. Gear has gone missing too, lost in transit from Korea. You feel the tension from the staff, the constant pacing around, the little arguments from the tour director and the managers.
You close your eyes momentarily before opening them at the sound of rushed footsteps.
Minju.
You notice the slight tiredness surrounding her, the slightly heavier layers of concealer under her eyes masking the bags underneath. She’s paler, skinnier too. You don’t remember the last time she or her members had a decent meal. When her eyes find yours, you watch her face relax, her shoulders drooping because she knows she doesn’t have to be the perfect idol in front of you.
You offer her a tired smile, your hand finding its way to your pocket, fiddling with a small box. “That bad, huh?”
She drags her feet as she makes her way towards you. “Some of the makeup has been lost, some of the outfits too.” She takes a deep breath. “The stylists put together something for us but the director isn’t happy about it.” She’s closer now. Just a couple inches away. She lifts her arms up like she’s asking for a hug.
“Uh…”
You hesitate for a moment, and her face contorts, as if she just realised what exactly she was asking. How bad it would’ve been for both of you if you were caught.
You don’t let her pull away.
“Come here.”
She takes the final few steps towards you, walks between your legs as she wraps her arms around your shoulders, yours finding their way to her waist. Your nose presses against the crown of her head. Citrus.
“This reminds me of when we were young.”
“What do you mean?” she asks, voice muffled against your shirt.
“Your mom always likes to tell this story. How you’d find me first before finding her. Or your dad.”
You feel a puff of air against your neck.
“I still do.”
You stop breathing for a second, your heart beating a mile a minute.
“You still do.”
The both of you could’ve stayed like this for five minutes or fifty. But eventually someone would come for her. And take her away.
“I got something for you.”
She lifts her head up, arms still surrounding you, fingers interlaced against the back of your neck. Your arms reluctantly leave her waist. You dig your hands into one of the pockets, pulling out a small box.
You open it for her to reveal a metallic pin in the shape of a duck. “I got it during my free time. It reminded me of you.”
“Because people say I look like a duck?”
It’s your turn to huff air. “Exactly.”
One of her hands leaves your neck, her fingers tracing the pin lightly like it would break.
“I love it. I—”
“Minju!”
You both turn to Yunah, standing there, hands on her waist.
Minju jumps back, her hand grabbing the pin but leaving the box in yours.
Yunah’s eyes travel between the two of you before landing on the box in your hand.
“Did you propose to her or something?”
“I—” You couldn’t get the words out fast enough.
“Whatever. Minju, they’re looking for you.”
“R—right.”
Yunah quickly interlaces her arms with Minju, dragging her off before either of you could explain.
----
Fukuoka. Or is it Manila? You don’t know anymore.
It’s late at night. The perfect time to haul a girl group to their next stop on the tour without the media getting involved. You’re walking briskly to your gate, gritting your teeth as your arm burns from lugging your bass case around. The airport is practically empty. It’s bright and sterile and it hurts your eyes.
You stare ahead of you, at Minju slowing down, separated from her group. You jog lightly to her, telling her to hop onto your suitcase. She hesitates for a few seconds before climbing on, legs wrapping around the handle. You squeeze your case onto her lap before pushing the suitcase towards the gate.
You don’t look at her, can’t look at her as she rests her head against your arm. “Get some rest on the plane.”
She can only hum in agreement, eyes closing as you continue pushing. By the time you reach the boarding queue, she slips off the suitcase and blends back in with her members before her manager can even turn around.
Forty-eight hours later and you’re back in another airport, jetting off to a new country just hours after finishing the concert. The exhaustion isn’t a dull ache anymore but a physical weight. Your eyes travel to Moka, asleep on Yunah’s lap, laying across the chairs in front of the boarding gate.
You see movement in the corner of your eye. Minju’s making her way towards you. Your eyes track her and the way her movements are sluggish, eyes barely open, you know she’s not far away from collapsing in exhaustion. She moves to sit next to you, and you turn away, her head landing softly against your back. Almost immediately she’s asleep, her breathing heavy and steady and you feel her face twitch every few minutes.
For a brief moment, you’re reminded of the bus ride back to her home.
You unfurl your jacket resting on the chair beside you, draping it over your back, covering her from prying eyes and blinding lights.
You don’t move even when your back is begging to be stretched, keen to let her get some rest before the next destination.
By the time the flight number crackles over the PA, she stirs with a quiet groan. She sits up, the tent covering her falling squarely on her shoulders. She wipes at her mouth, staring at your back.
“I drooled on you.”
You move to crouch in front of her, pulling your jacket tighter around her small frame, a soft smile tugging at your lips.
“Don’t worry about it.”
You help her stand, pushing her gently to where her manager is and boards with the rest of the first class ticket holders.
----
London. The last stop.
The cabin is entirely dark, the heavy curtains drawn separating the first class idols from the staff and the band in economy. You look down at your watch. Three in the morning. Everyone is asleep.
Everyone except Minju.
You came back from the toilet to see her in your seat by the emergency exit, legs tucked underneath her with a blanket draped over her thighs. She’s staring blankly out into the night sky, only turning to you when she sees your shadow. She doesn’t tense up, just pats the seat beside her in a silent invitation.
You sit beside her, the sound of snoring and the hum of the plane engines the only thing you hear. She drapes the blanket over your legs before leaning her head against your shoulder. Her breathing begins to slow into that familiar rhythm, warm air blown onto your neck.
As she settles beside you, her hands clinging to your arm, the oversized cardigan shifts, exposing her shoulder and collarbone.
Your eyes track the movement, and as you reach out to return it to its position, your breath hitches.
Fastened securely on the shirt is the cheap, metallic duck pin from Osaka. She’s been wearing it all this time.
You look down at her face, soft and completely defenseless in the dim cabin light, and the lie you keep telling yourself shatters. You’re not doing this out of habit. Not doing this because you’re her overprotective friend from her childhood.
You are completely, dangerously in love with her.
You reach up to turn off the lights. Your hand grips the armrests hard as you listen to her soft snores along with your beating heart.
You don’t sleep the entire journey.
----
Your hand drags along the wall as you make your way back to your hotel room. It’s quiet except for the muffled sounds of your footsteps on the carpeted hallway.
It’s done. The final concert finished. The band wanted to celebrate so you found yourself at the hotel bar, drinking and laughing with more energy than during the concert itself. You’re not much of a drinker, only having one beer before calling it a night at 11:30PM.
You pull your wallet out of your back pocket, taking out your hotel key card before freezing as you round the corner. You hear your heart in your ears as you look at Minju, drowning in a hoodie, standing in front of your door, hand raised like she was about to knock.
She hesitates.
You slowly walk up to her, the soft crunch of your shoe against the carpet alerting her to your presence. You hear a sharp intake, her hand hiding behind her as she turns to face you, back pressed against the door. She watches as you get closer and closer until you’re crowding her, invading her space like you’ve never done before in all the time she’s known you. Minju inhales deeply, a faint scent of beer on your clothes and the heat coming off your body is suffocating.
You stare down at her, waiting for her eyes to meet yours, and when they do, you see it. Her face free of makeup, the heavy bags under her eyes, skin a sickly pale hidden under the hallway light. She’s breathing heavily and there’s a slight wobble in the way she stands.
“Oppa… I’m tired.”
You look at her, really look at her and how she looks smaller than she did on stage. Your hand moves, cupping her cheek through the hoodie, and she stares up at you, releasing a heavy sigh as her glasses slightly lift, relaxing into your hand even as her legs wobble faintly.
Your free hand places the key card onto the scanner, hearing the audible click as you push down on the handle, opening the heavy hotel room door.
Her hands hold onto yours as she slowly steps backwards into the dark room, a sharp contrast from the bright hallway. You walk with her, turning when the door swings shut behind you to lock it. You kneel, untying your shoelaces, pulling off the shoes without any care. Your hands find her shoes as you spin on the spot, untied, no socks, like her coming here wasn’t planned. Her hands find your shoulders gripping them tightly as you lift one foot up, sliding the shoe, and placing her pale foot carefully onto the carpeted floor before doing the same to the other foot.
You slowly rise until you tower over her again. You reach out for her shoulder, your hand slowly sliding down her arm until it reaches her hand, covered by the sleeve of her oversized hoodie. Your other hand comes up, pulling the sleeve up her arm so you can hold her hand.
The room is too dark to see anything, save for the light coming from the streetlight just outside your window but the sharp intake of breath, the too tight grip on your fingers tells you everything you need to know.
You spin the both of you around, and slowly take steps backwards towards the bed, guiding her along. It’s only four or five steps and yet her feet drag along the carpet, and her knees buckling with every footstep. When the back of your knees hit the edge of the mattress, you sit down, pulling her even closer until there is nothing but a couple of inches between you, her hands releasing yours, flying to your shoulders. She pushes off your shoulders and sits beside you, shoulders brushing together as the both of you instantly slouch.
Neither of you look at each other. Instead, you face the mirror in front of you, and as she starts speaking, you watch her through it—you take in her legs, skinny and pale, her glasses that are still crooked from when you held her cheek, and her face—gaunt, and completely unguarded.
She continues talking but you don’t hear anything, a painful ache in your chest as you stare at her exhausted frame. And yet, despite all that, she’s never been more beautiful.
You turn to face her, and when you do, her voice filters through your ears, tired and raspy.
“I wasn’t sure I would’ve made it without you.”
She turns to look at you, a small smile on her face that doesn’t quite reach her wet eyes. Her mouth opens again but the words die in her throat as she spots your trembling hand, reaching out to cup her cheek under the hood. This is different. You’ve always been the strong one, the one she could hide behind when things got rough… and you’re trembling.
A single tear slips down her face. Your thumbs catches it, wiping it away slow and featherlight against her cheekbone as you let out a shaky, unraveled exhale.
Your eyes fall from her face, travels along her hoodie until it lands on the metallic duck pin. Your free, shaking hand reaches for it, your thumb rubbing over the metal, mesmerised. And she watches you do it in absolute silence, watches as your eyes soften further at the sight of your gift pinned proudly.
When you lift your gaze to meet hers again, your eyes so wide and deep. She peers into them, feeling herself tear up just at the sight, like everything she wanted was held there, staring right back at her.
The hand on her cheek moves, pushing her hood down, smoothing her hair before both hands gently take her glasses off, setting them somewhere safe. Your hand returns to her cheek as you descend slowly, eyes trained on her pale lips. She inhales deeply, and when you were just a breath away, her eyes close.
You close the distance quick, the kiss more forceful than you intended, moving her head back slightly as you pour everything into it. Her lips are soft against yours, and as she begins pushing back, as her hand fists your shirt tightly and as yours finds the back of her head, you wonder how her lips fits so perfectly with yours.
You pull away and she hiccups, the sound echoing around the room. You can’t help the adoring smile on your face, the dimples prominent on your cheeks. It was only for a few seconds before her hands grab your head, her thumbs digging into the dimples as she pulls you right back in.
You feel wetness on your cheeks. You’re not sure from who. She’s slowly falling backwards, leaning against the headboard as both your hands find themselves underneath her hoodie, your fingers trailing up her waist, finding the warmth of her skin underneath.
Your hands were like fire on her skin slowly pushing the fabric higher and higher until you both had to separate, her arms coming up to assist you in removing the offending item. You pull it off, tossing the hoodie onto the floor and when your gaze returns, her arms are already hiding herself, her eyes looking anywhere but at you.
“Minju…”
She takes a deep breath, her chest rising as she pulls her arms tighter around herself. The room is still dark save for the streetlights bathing her in a white light.
She looks ethereal.
Your thumbs find her wrists, gently caressing the bone before the rest of your fingers wrap themselves around them.
“Look at me, Minju.”
Her eyes slowly find your face. Her heart threatens to break her ribs and the flush on her skin travels everywhere. She feels you pulling her arms away from her chest and she lets you, without resistance.
You drop her arms by her side, taking hold of her waist and pulling her down until she lies flat on the mattress. You just… look at her. At the way her eyes stay trained on you, at her parted lips, releasing her warm breath in the space between you, at the goosebumps littered along her chest.
You carefully crawl above her, catching her lips in yours just as her arms go round your neck, pulling you flushed against her. She moans into your mouth as your tongue enters hers.
But your mouth doesn’t stay there long, moving lower, pressing featherlight kisses on her chin, down her neck. Your breath is warm. That’s the first thing she registers. Warm and unhurried and careful in a way that makes her throat tight, her breathing erratic and shallow, especially when your lips find the swell of her breasts. Her head falls back onto the pillows when you take a stiff peak into your mouth and her eyes shut tight, relishing in the pleasure.
Minju’s spent years imagining this and none of it prepared her for how gentle you are. How you move like you have all the time in the world. Like she is someone worth taking time for. The slow kisses on her ribs, down her stomach and her hipbone as you slowly peel her shorts down. It’s unexpected and expected at the same time. Her heart swells just like that time in the bakery. Except this time, you're reciprocating which is more than she could’ve ever hoped for.
She feels your breath before anything else.
Her hand finds your hair without deciding to.
You can’t help the smile on your face as you continue your work. At the way her hand grips your hair tighter, pulling you closer, at her breathy sighs, muffled by her thighs clamping around your ears. And when you push a finger inside, when her hips lift off the bed and your free hand holds her down, her stomach tensing underneath, something in your chest comes undone. Like a dam has been broken.
It doesn’t take long for her thighs to start trembling, for her moans to turn to whimpers, sharp and loud. The two fingers inside are coated with her, and the hand on her stomach? Moved to one of her breasts, held there by her own. The feeling is so overwhelming, she can’t think straight, can’t get her breathing in order, can’t loosen the grip on your hair no matter how hard she tries. It’s too much. Your fingers, your tongue, your—
“Minju…”
Without warning, she lets go. Her legs have stopped shaking, and the whimper is caught in her throat. Her eyes are wide, her mouth covered by both her hands as she cranes her neck to look at you, still working, still prolonging like you don’t want her to stop feeling this. And when you finally lift your head, and she sees herself around your mouth, she forgets every word.
You pull the hem of your shirt—the merch from the first stop—and you wipe your mouth before pulling it over your head, carelessly thrown somewhere on the floor. The rest of your clothes follow without ceremony and before you know it, you’re over her again, cheeks flushed, sweat forming at her temple and her hair spread across the pillow.
You’re right there. She can feel the heat emanating and twitch as you inch closer and closer. Your rough, callused hand slides along her thighs, leaving goosebumps in their wake as you wrap her around your waist, her foot settled on the small of your back. She looks into your eyes, pupils dilated, like your focus is on her and only her. Not idol and bassist.
And not best friend’s little sister.
She nods faintly, giving you permission and as you slowly push in, as she gasps by your lips as you move deeper, you kiss her, catching her moans in your mouth. Your hand leaves her thighs, wiping away the tears as you push all the way in. You wait until she’s ready, watching as she tries to keep her breathing under control.
“Please…”
You start moving, your pace slow because you don’t want this to end. Her nails dig into your shoulders and the noises coming out of her mouth become more frequent and louder the longer you go. You lean your forehead on hers, both of you breathing heavily, mixing in the small space between you. Both your eyes refuse to look away from the other as if all the unspoken words finally have somewhere to live.
She’s getting close, you can feel the way she tightens around you, and you’re close too. You take her lips as you spill inside her and her nails dig deeper into your skin as she follows shortly after, clenching around you rhythmically, taking everything from you.
----
You lift your head to look at the alarm clock on the night stand opposite you.
4:30AM.
You lay your head back down onto the pillow beneath, pressing your nose against the back of Minju’s head, inhaling her scent. She’s pressed flush against you, back against your chest and your arm tightens its hold along her stomach, fingers tracing every inch there is. Her breathing is even, and her soft snores are the only noise you hear. The blanket is draped over both your waists, the room too hot after what happened.
You can’t believe what you did.
And yet.
Knock, knock, knock
The pair of you jolt upright, eyes wide and breathing heavily. You wait a few seconds, swallowing the lump in your throat before stepping out of bed. You pull on a pair of sweatpants before padding your way towards the door, opening it just a crack.
You shut your eyes against the bright light and find Yunah standing there, still in her pyjamas with a baseball cap on, covering her eyes. She tilts her head up, not once making eye contact with you as she speaks into the dark hotel room.
“Minju, you have to leave. Manager’s waking up soon to do room checks, to make sure we’re all here.”
You continue to look at Yunah and she keeps avoiding your eyes as you both hear Minju stumbling off the high mattress, scrambling to find her clothes tossed on the floor. You hear a bang, likely from Minju slamming her shoulder on the wardrobe as she pulls her shorts on, and just like that, she’s running to the door, legs still shaky and sore from the night, hands smoothing over her clothes as she tries to make herself look presentable.
As she reaches the door, Yunah immediately grabs her arm firmly, pulling her out into the bright hallway. You watch as she’s dragged to the elevator and just as she’s about to disappear behind a corner, she steals one last glance at you. Gone is the paleness in her cheeks, replaced by a warm pink flush.
----
“Oh! Oh, look at this!”
Minju’s parents gather around her chair as she shows them photos of everywhere they’ve been. Tourist attractions, the food she ate, even some behind the scene photos of the concerts. You look at the widening smiles from both her parents’ faces and you can’t help the one growing on your own, despite the fact you haven’t stopped wringing your hands since you got here.
It’s only been a week since London and not once have you ever been this nervous having dinner with practically your second family. Your eyes fall to the table at the sharing plate filled with cut up fruit from her mom. You grab a fork, stabbing a piece of pear before depositing it into your mouth, chewing it slow and methodical.
Eventually, you get up, the chair scraping backwards as you excuse yourself to go to the bathroom. When you finish, opening the door to leave, Minju’s standing right there at the entrance. You jump back slightly, her hand finding and gripping your wrist firmly before dragging you into her childhood bedroom, only letting go to close the door behind you.
She turns around, watching you slowly making your way to sit on the edge of her bed like you always do, except you don’t have a bass in your hand and you’re not playing soft background music and she’s not doing homework on the desk by the opposite wall. Instead, you look at her intensely, making her squirm underneath and her face to flush and she pulls her hair in front of her face because everything is different now.
“Are you okay?” you ask, voice barely above a whisper.
Minju doesn’t answer. Just starts moving, eyes on the floor, pacing the small length of her room, rambling underneath her breath. You had to strain your ears to catch only a few words of what she’s saying—comeback, new choreography, content filming. Her hands start waving around, her quiet steps become loud stomps and you know she’s heated. And she knows she can’t show this to anyone else.
You don’t interrupt. Don’t offer her solutions. Just tracking her with your eyes.
After a couple minutes, you stand, moving yourself into her path. Her eyes are still on the floor when she bumps into you, her forehead against your chest. You wait. Until her breathing evens out and her shoulders sag before wrapping her in your arms, one hand at the small of her back and the other cradling the back of her head against your chest. She’s still talking, muffled in your shirt but even that subsides eventually.
You rest your cheek on the top of her head when you notice it. On her bookshelf, leaning against her action figures is an envelope, worn at the edges, your name written in cursive writing. You lift your head, and she whines at the loss of contact, but you’re squinting to get a better look at it, taking one step and accidentally taking her with you.
“S—sorry.”
You release her head from your chest as she turns in your hold, following your gaze to the letter she’s kept all these years, not touched since the day she left for training.
She pulls your hand off her, walking to the bookshelf, fingers trembling as she reaches for it. She turns to you, back pressed against the shelf as her eyes stay on the letter, unopened.
“I didn’t know what to write so I’m just going to say it. I like you. For as long as I can remember.”
She takes a deep breath before continuing, voice shaky.
“You always made me feel like I was someone worth paying attention to. I just wanted you to know.”
She only looks up when your shadow covers the letter in her hands. You reach for her hand, holding the letter between the two of you.
“You should’ve given it to me.”
She doesn’t say anything, just clutches at the letter and your fingers tightly as she stares into your eyes. You lower your head until your lips are just inches from hers. She takes them in hers, eyes squeezed shut, her other hand finding its way onto your cheeks as you hold onto the bookshelf behind.
You both drop the letter between you, her now free hand finding your waist as you let her pull you closer.
You freeze, pulling your lips away from hers when you hear footsteps just outside her door. She’s still holding you flush against her and you’re still crowding her. You should step back. If they find you like this… but one look into her eyes and you know she doesn’t care if you’re caught.
When the footsteps recede back downstairs, you both huff out a laugh. She’s rubbing your cheek as you pepper her face with small pecks everywhere: nose, eyebrow, forehead.
You whisper against her lips. “Do you want to play LoL?”
She looks at you with wide eyes. “Do you even know how to play?”
You smile, pressing another kiss onto her forehead.
A/N: Part of @prael Minju challenge over on Fanprose. Feel free to follow along there, but don't worry—I'll still be posting here!
Tags: fluff
She watches you. Out in the hallway, peeking through the window. Watches the way you casually sit on your desk, leg propped on your chair. The way you throw your head back when you laugh, loud enough that it echoes down the hallway. She watches your forearms flex as you shove someone’s shoulder, his protests drowned out by your grin.
Park Minju has always liked to watch this classroom, liked to watch you. Bassist for the school band. The one everyone gravitated towards without quite knowing why. She does—has watched you long enough to. All the girls have a crush on you, and she’s no exception. But she has one advantage over the others.
She feels a shove at her back—pressed against the wall by the newly arriving girls that came to watch you. The air is suffocating. Shoulders press against hers on both sides, blocking her view. Someone has too much perfume on, and she can’t breathe properly.
You turn to the commotion outside the classroom, and you see her, surrounded on all sides. Your smile drops slightly, worry etched across your face.
“Minju!” She looks up, face red, and sees you, waving, unhurried, as if the crowd behind her doesn’t exist. And just like that, everyone backs away. She takes two deep breaths, smooths her cardigan and skirt before entering the classroom. The noise from the hallway fades behind her. In here, she can hear your voice clearly now, the low rumble of your laugh she’d recognise anywhere.
She ignores the weight of stares she’s learned to walk through like they’re nothing.
See, the one advantage she has over the others is that she’s known you all her life.
“What are you doing here?”
She scowls at the voice before she even sees who it belongs to, her nose scrunching in irritation. She already knows.
The one disadvantage she has is that you are her brother’s best friend.
----
It isn’t unusual to find yourself in their home. It’s practically your second home. Their parents always welcome you, always invite you to stay the night.
It’s even less unusual to find yourself in their kitchen.
You roll your sleeves up as you drop three packets of noodles into the pot of boiling water, stirring slightly, waiting for it to soften before adding the rest of the ingredients: the soup packets, spring onions, maybe a bit of cheese.
Once done, you pour them into three separate bowls, one of them has a bit more than the others, before placing them on the dining table. You move again, this time to grab empty glasses and a jug of water.
“Why does she get the bigger one?”
You pour her water first, not looking up at your friend before answering. “Make more yourself if you’re that hungry.” You turn to face her. “Eat up.”
You’re already turning back to the table, moving to sit down, missing the way Minju’s cheek tinge bright pink, and the way she softly slaps herself as if that would help calm her down.
(It doesn’t)
She stares at you as you talk to her brother, wishing it was her instead. But what would she say? What could she say? Every conversation with you has been surface level. No deep discussions, no confessions, nothing beyond ‘how are you?’ and ‘good.’ and it’s all your fault. The way you maintain eye contact, how you patiently wait for her to get her words out, even when her throat closes up or her mind goes blank staring back at you.
It’s infuriating that you affect her so much, annoying that you have no clue about it either.
She watches as you become more animated telling a story. The way your arms start flailing around or the way every time you smile, your dimples come out. Her eyes travel to your neck, gazes as your adam’s apple bobs with every slurp of noodles.
Some soup splashes onto you, and she’s already half out of her seat, ready to get a tissue. Except, you’re wearing an apron. How could she forget you’re wearing an apron. And not just any apron. The apron her mom bought her when she had that fleeting dream of becoming a chef.
(That lasted two months)
“… don’t understand why we have to study! My brain hurts…”
That caught Minju’s attention.
“What are you guys talking about?”
“Your brother’s being an idiot again.” You sigh as you take another bite of your ramyeon.
“When am I going to ever need,” he stares at the title of the worksheet, “the Pythagorean theorem in my life?”
You ignore his whining, turning to face Minju.
“What about you? Does your dream involve finding the length of one side of a triangle?”
She hesitates before answering quietly. “N—no… I want to be an idol…”
You hear laughter. Her brother.
“You? An idol? Don’t you have to be an E? How can you be an idol when you’re an extreme I?” Her brother asks between fits of laughter.
You watch her look down at her hands, wringing. She slowly slides down the chair, face red in embarrassment.
You smack her brother on the head before looking back at her, ignoring his cries.
You nod. “I do. You should audition.” You’re already back to your noodles, mouth over the bowl before you continue. “You already have one fan in me.”
You turn back to her, and you smile that smile, dimples prominent, eyes in crescent shapes, head tilted ever so slightly, noodles hanging out.
If it was possible, Minju’s face would be even redder than it is. Her heart pounds hard against her chest. It feels loud, like you could hear it if you try hard enough. She smiles, and nods. “Th—thank you.”
You hold her gaze for longer than necessary. There’s something about the way she looks at you—like you promised her the world instead of believing in her. It makes your chest feel weird. Warm.
You look away first, back to your noodles, before you do something stupid like keep staring.
Later that night, you’re crashing at their place as you always do. The room is dark except for the light from the lamp post peeking through and from your phone. The floor is hard against your back, but warm. You’re scrolling through your phone when you hear rustling from the bed above.
Your best friend.
He sits up and turns to you, doesn’t say anything for a minute.
“You know she’s going to audition now,” he finally says. “After what you said.”
You don’t look at him, eyes trained on the phone but not absorbing anything. “And she should. I wasn’t lying when I said that.”
“She’s always wanted to audition. You were just the final push she needed.”
You hum, thumb frozen on your phone. You don’t know why that makes your chest tight.
He stays quiet for a long time, long enough that you crane your neck up to face him. “You’re good to her, you know. A better brother than I could ever be. Walking her home and shit. Just… don’t give her hope.”
You don’t know what he means. Or maybe you do, and you just don’t want to think about it.
“I… won’t,” you say.
He stares at you, looking for any lie. When he doesn’t, he lies back down, turning to face away from you. “Good.”
You stare at the ceiling for a long time after that. Don’t give her hope. But why not? You liked how she looked at you from across the table, eyes wide and bright that they’re practically burned into the back of your eyelids.
You close your eyes and sigh heavily, willing yourself to sleep.
----
You lean against the railing outside the studio, checking the time on your phone every few minutes. You exhale loudly, jumping at every sound. She should be out by now.
Ever since she told you her dream, she’s committed to it, taking vocal lessons, dance lessons, anything that could improve her chances of being cast. And you’ve been there every step of the way. Making sure she doesn’t burn out or that she gets home safely despite protesting numerous time that she doesn’t need a babysitter.
What can you say? You want to be here. Always have. The worrying is just an excuse you tell yourself.
You see someone coming down the stairs. Minju. One hand holding tightly on the handrail, the other trying, and failing to keep hold of the duffel bag on her shoulders.
You move quickly, avoiding people walking in front of you, taking the bag from her before she has time to protest.
“You’re here again? I told you, you don’t need to keep coming to these.”
You throw the duffel bag over your shoulder, walking out the building, arms brushing against each other every now and then. “You’d miss me if I didn’t come.”
You look down at her, smiling but she doesn’t meet your eyes. Instead, she’s staring at her shoes, scuffing them slightly against the pavement. You tilt your head to look closer. Her cheeks are red, likely from the audition.
She must be tired.
You scan around the place, your eyes finding a small bakery nearby. You take her hand, dragging her to it. You don’t look back, don’t see the flush across her cheeks or the way her eyes widen in panic.
“Wh—what are you doing?”
“I finally found it. The bakery I wanted to try out. Come on!”
You pull her arm until she’s standing in front of you. Your hand is gently on the small of her back, guiding her inside.
She sucks in a breath, and holds it there as she enters the bakery. Only when you’ve found them a seat and you walked off to the counter does she finally exhale. Where your hand was, it feels like it’s on fire.
Her phone buzzes in her pocket. Messages from friends asking her how the audition went, and that they should go out for a meal after. Her hand starts shaking, typing out the message.
Sorry. Can’t make it.
She’s lying. She knows it but it doesn’t stop her from typing. Because you’re here, and she can still feel your hand on her back, and she can’t stop the smile creeping on her face.
“Here. I got you something sweet,” you point to a chocolate croissant before pointing to a salted bread roll, “or if you prefer something savoury.”
“Thanks.” She looks up at you. “Are you not having any?”
You shake your head, a warm smile still on your face. “I’ll try it next time.”
Minju moves to grab the croissant, tearing it in half before doing the same to the bread roll, pushing both halves towards you.
You let out a soft chuckle before digging in. She didn’t ask if you wanted any. Just knew. Split them both apart without thinking, like it was the most natural thing in the world.
When did she start doing these things for you? When did you start noticing?
You open your mouth—to say what, you’re not sure. Thank you feels too small. You didn’t have to do that feels like a lie, because part of you expected her to. You’ve been wanting these small acts of kindness from her for longer than you can remember.
“How was the audition?” you ask instead.
She tells you everything. The nervous looks from the other auditionees, to the way she nailed the singing audition but messed up on the dancing one. You can’t stop watching her. How her hands move when she talks, the way she continues to talk with her mouth full. She’s so immersed in her story, she’s forgotten to be self-conscious. You’ve never seen her like this with anyone else. Not her brother, or her parents.
You don’t want her to stop. Ever.
At one point, her voice tapers off, aware that you haven’t said anything in a while, but when you ask a question, her eyes light up, and she becomes animated again, talking through mouthfuls.
You can’t help the laugh that escapes.
She stops mid-sentence, swallowing roughly around the croissant. “Why are you laughing?”
You wave a hand, taking a drink of water. “Nothing. It’s just… I’ve never seen you talk so much,” you look at her face, and the way her eyes concentrate on you. “It’s nice.”
Her ears go bright red, heart fluttering from your compliment. She smiles softly at the plate in front of you both.
And then, for a second, she hates you for it.
Hates how easy it is for you to say things like that—it’s nice—like it doesn’t cost you anything. Like you don’t know what those words do to her. How she’ll replay them every night before bed, on the bus, during study sessions, and every time she needs to remember what it feels like being seen by you.
You smile too. You can’t help it. Making her blush, it does something to you that you’re not ready to name yet.
The anger dissolves as quickly as it came. Because you don’t know. How could you? She’s never told you. And never will.
After finishing, you both get up to leave. The doorbell chimes softly as you both exit, side by side, your arm around her shoulders as you guide her through the busy night crowd.
You don’t notice the way she stiffens at the contact. At the way she relaxes against you.
Eventually, you both make it to the bus stop, sitting underneath the shelter. You look up at the timing board. 2 minutes.
“You don’t have to wait with me. You live in the opposite direction.”
You don’t look at her, instead watch as cars drive by, as people get off and on a bus. “So? I want to.”
The words come out easier than they should. More honest than you meant them to be. You glance at her. She’s staring at her shoes, but you catch her small smile before she hides it.
You’re doing it again. Making her heart race. She has to remind herself to not read too much into the way you said ‘I want to’ like it meant something more, that she can never be more than your best friend’s sister. But the way you’re looking at her right now… maybe it does mean something. Just the thought makes her dizzy.
The bus arrives soon after, and you’re walking in after her, scanning your card on the reader before sitting beside her. The bus is practically empty at this time, a couple of people are scattered around, earphones in or exhausted enough to fall asleep. You look towards Minju sat by the window, looking outside, and you’re able to get a glimpse of her reflection. Her hair carefully framing her face before she tucks them behind her ear, her lips slightly parted, her breathing fogging up the glass.
Cute.
The thought surprises you, but it’s there and you can’t take it back. You’ve thought it before—about puppies, about kids, the way she’d scrunch her nose when her brother annoyed her. But this feels different.
This feels like you’re actually seeing her.
Like you’ve been seeing her for a while now and you just didn’t want to admit it.
The bus lurches forward, the brake applied hard and sudden. Immediately, your hand moves, rests against her stomach, keeping her in the seat. “Are you okay?”
Her hand takes yours, gripping your fingers tightly. “Y—yeah.”
She doesn’t hear the driver’s apology or the complaints from the other passengers. She only feels your hand in hers, and how your fingers are calloused from touching the bass strings. You pull back, and she’s reluctant to let you go. Her fingers slip from yours slowly, and you feel the loss of contact more than you should.
You flex your hand in your lap, still tingling from the contact. You can still feel the warmth of her palm, the way her fingers tightened around yours like she was afraid to let go.
You didn’t want to let go either.
The ride to her place is long, to the point you find yourself yawning every few minutes. You turn to face Minju, only to notice her head swaying from side to side. She’s fighting to stay awake, trying to keep her eyes wide and open, only for them to close a minute later.
Who wouldn’t be exhausted after a day of school followed by singing and dancing in front of scouts in the hope of being chosen.
Her head falls dangerously close to the window, but before she could hit it, you move your hand. You shield her from the impact, gently pushing her head in the opposite direction, towards your shoulder.
She falls onto it with a gentle thud, losing the fight against sleep. You stay still, keeping her there, and making sure she doesn’t wake up. You get a whiff of her hair. Citrus. Nice. You hear her snore too, soft, barely audible unless you’re right next to her. She wrinkles her nose a few times and you can’t help smile at how adorable she is.
You feel the exact moment she fully relaxes against you—the weight of her head settling heavier, her breathing evening out, the tension leaving her shoulders. She trusts you enough to fall asleep on you. The thought does something to your head that you don’t have words for. You don’t move. Don’t shift your shoulders when it starts aching. Don’t reach for your phone when it begins buzzing against your thigh. You just sit there, barely breathing, like if you stay still, you can make this last forever.
Before you know it, the streets around suddenly become familiar. How long have you been staring at her?
Long enough to memorise the way her eyelashes rest against her cheeks. Long enough that you know she breathes through her mouth when she’s in a deep sleep, and that she scrunches her nose every two minutes. Long enough that the idea of moving—of waking her and pulling away—feels like you’re punishing yourself.
You don’t want this bus ride to end.
That thought should scare you more than it does.
You press a finger on her arm, gently enough to wake her but not enough to hurt her. “Hey, we’re almost at the stop.” You watch as her eyes flutter open, and the soft mewling sound she makes as she stretches her arms above her head, smacking her lips together a couple of times.
You lean forward, pressing the stop button before standing, grabbing her bag and her arm, guiding her to the exit.
The walk back to her home is slow, languid. She’s too tired to walk any faster, too tired to make conversation. But you stay by her side, matching her pace. Only now do you notice the bags under her eyes, under the light of the lamp posts, and how she slowly drifts into your path.
You smile, letting her lean on you the rest of the way. She fits against your side like she belongs there. Like this is something you’ve done a thousand times before, and you could keep doing it and never tire from it.
When you’re just outside her home, you gently place the duffel bag on her shoulder. She’s swaying slightly, exhausted, and you steady her with a hand on her arm.
“Go in. I’ll wait until you go inside.”
She nods, but doesn’t move. Just looks up at you, eyes soft and half-lidded from exhaustion. Her head softly falls onto your chest, and almost immediately, she stands straight, blinking a couple times. Your hand still has a hold on her arm. You should let go.
You don’t.
“Thank you,” she says quietly. “For walking me home. For… everything.”
“Minju—” You don’t know what you were going to say. Don’t know if you should say it.
She smiles. Small and understanding. Like she knew exactly what you were going to say.
“Good night,” she whispers.
You reluctantly let go. Watch her walk to her door. She turns back, just before she goes inside, and the way she looks at you makes your chest tight.
You lift your hand. A small wave. She waves back, and even in the dark you can see she’s smiling.
She enters without another word, and you watch as the door closes, standing there longer than you should, staring at the space where she was. You replay the way she looked at you, like she was waiting, hoping for you to say something. Like she’d wait no matter how long it took.
You walk back to the bus stop. Hear it coming from a distance.
You’re smiling when you board. Still smiling when you get home.
"So, what exactly is this?" It's a valid question from Yuri, you weren't entirely transparent about your intentions. Yena said she was prototyping her guitar, that it was 'electrifying' and 'mindblowingly orgasmic'
So Yuri, fairly or unfairly assumed that was about music.
Technically, she's not wrong.
However, in practice. Yena is synced up to a device that can only be described as a bondage lover's wet dream. Wire's everywhere, some coiled to her thighs, some dangling off her chest. A lot pooling to almost make a tailor-made dress.
"It's one of our new inventions." Yena remarks casually, like there's not a dildo that can self-thrust next to both her pussy and her tight ass. Like there's no vibrating clamps that gently hug her nipples. You have the guitar in your hands, though you'll definitely pass it to Yuri in a little while. Need an unbiased tester, make sure it works fine.
"Last time you told me about your inventions you were making fuel-powered bouncy balls. What even happened?"
"We wanted to pay bills, this is our latest idea." You interject. "It works about as simply as you can expect. Each of these four buttons resonate with another. You play any song you know and see how the woman reacts."
"Show her practically, come on." Yena sighs, you are down. You click the first button, the clamp on her left nipple starts to vibrate, squeeze slightly– gets a short gasp out of Yena. Same for the second just for the right side.
The third one is more interesting, you only do short presses first– make sure to not overwhelm. The toy pushes deeper into her pussy, sits inside until you make it move. This is designed to be easy to use, hard to master. Replayability that can get even the most diehard of rhythm players to get invested.
It's a very specific niche your targeting, rhythm players good enough to do well that also have a partner. Eh, it'll reflect in the mark up.
"Come around." You point, Yuri follows and looks at Yena from behind. You click the last button and it pushes deep inside Yena's asshole, you push it a bit further. Then she stands there filled to the brim.
"Right, I still don't know why you needed me to be here? Me and Yena are close, don't get me wrong. But this is–"
"Oh shut up, before I met him you had your tongue in me every other night. We are definitely that close." Yena cuts through Yuri's lies, she's red as a tomato and doesn't say anything more.
"We need an unbiased participant who doesn't know it inside and out, you are that person." It's a simple exchange, you'll buy her a nice meal for this.
"Okay, sure, fine. Show me it." You've already started, but there's a few other cool features you can't wait to show in more detail. Then, your television screen turns on. (thanks to a hidden button in the frame, otherwise it'd ruin the IMMERSION!)
"We've made it so this guitar can work on all forms of rhythm software. We'll use Fortnite Festival for this because we have it installed." You swap to a song, you need to pick one that's not too hard, not too easy. A perfect highlight, you pick a 7/7 on bass. Should be easy enough.
Here goes nothing.
The music starts to play, though what song is hardly relevant. What matters is Yena braces herself for the first set of notes, though no matter how hard she braces. It still catches her off guard, hitting all four notes at once. Multiple times, the two dildos fucking her holes as her nipples get tormented.
"Ah, fuck!" Yena's caught caught in pleasure, Yuri's blushing. Her friend's got 14 inches (divided by two obviously) inside her and they are drilling her while the person causing it is just strumming a few cords. That's normally a metaphor, but these two inventors be doing stuff differently apparently.
"As you can see, it's quite intense." You lull, hitting your keys to the beat of the music. You can hear the slick noises of her pussy getting thoroughly fucked cutting through the rest of the noise.
"Y-yeah, I–" Yuri is rubbing her legs together, looking up towards the sky as if focusing on Yena is going to make her lose her mind. Her body's sweating under pressure, hands gripping her thighs to avoid them going anywhere else. "It's something."
"Ngh, fuck! Yuri, touch yourself for me– please!" That came out of nowhere, the machine must be have sparkled something. "I don't care he's watching, come on! Please–"
"What?!"
"You don't have to–" You start, your voice trails off because a particularly hard section comes up. Forcing your entire attention, it reflects in Yena's moans. Hits a crescendo that lasts for a solid half-minute.
"Ignore him, do it, let me see your pretty pussy again! It's been so–long!"
Yuri's between a rock and soft place, this wasn't in your initial testing plans but errant data should probably be considered. In the event they got a three player rotation, someone touching themselves is standard, expected.
You just never designed this for three people.
Fool's mistake and in this case, you're the fool. Yena's on cloud fuck knows and therefore doesn't have time to worry about all that. But back to Yuri's ultimatum, surely with the way she shouted what she'd be thinking about it still ri–
Oh, she's wearing less clothes than before.
Hm, oh well.
The problem with your technology you are realising now is you can not focus on your test-partner being so overwhelmingly aroused that her arousal is being launched into the floor. Nor can you focus on her situationship best friend heeding her commands. Hastefully kicking herself out of her shorts and underwear simply and efficiently. Put blandly, your peripherals are doing quadruple overtime.
A few more seconds, the song will be over. But this is the most ridiculous section for Yena, a bunch of hold notes. When the buttons are held the machines work at peak efficiency, fucking the soul out of her. "Oh my, my, fuck– yes, fuck!" Her orgasm hits right at the finish of song, and it's explosive. Spurts of squirt painting a new pattern in your favourite towel.
You play an imaginary song, fuck her insane ass (You'd know, it hugs you like the warmest kindling of affection.) with chords to ride her through it. Then perhaps the most annoying thing happens.
Your frame snaps, the thing keeping Yena from falling over ages ago breaks in two and unsurprisingly she slips. Right between Yuri's legs, face first into her box tongue first. Yuri is quite to take advantage of such a perfectly shown moment of chance, grinds her slit against Yena's pretty face. She quickly sticks her tongue out, devouring her friend while you stand there and savour such a moment.
"Yena! Eating me out so, god, damn well!" The machine is still mostly plugged into Yena, so you do Yuri a favour. Pushing a few buttons that make the girl moan straight into her– resonating within her core. "Don't stop!"
Muffled moans fill the room as you continue to pleasure Yena, pumping the machine's dildo in and out much slower now. Just a consistent rhythm enough to mess with her brain, overwhelming without shutting her down. You need the data. Whatever is salvageable out of this. You stand there bricked up like a virgins first time seeing tits, rubbing yourself through your clothes.
Yuri's moans are ridiculous, hits the walls and bounces back twice as fucking loud. Then you think, you need more data… someone who hasn't been responsible in the design process. "Yuri, say– would you like a turn?"
She looks shocked, but Yena pulls herself away to breathe. "Yeah, you trust my creation right?" No, she definitely didn't. It snapped in front of you. "I'll hold you up."
"Okay, I trust you, for once." Yuri's words brought you two great joy, helping Yena out of the machine and slowly putting Yuri in. Lubing up her tight rim, giving it a finger while Yena gave it two. Working together to make sure she could handle this, proper procedure. (proper bla bla you get the idea by now surely.)
Couple minutes later and it's all set up, Yena holding Yuri up by the armpits to ensure she doesn't replicate her fall over incident. "Ready?"
"I guess?" Yuri is not nearly as assured as Yena was, after seeing the mess that was just made and getting herself ate out though she is far too horny to think logically about this. You pick a song that honestly you just like, Fantasia For The Witch's Hound.
"Don't let her go, I don't know how concussions and orgasms mix." You warn, however Yena is gripping onto her harder than she grips around you so it'll be all gucci. " Here goes nothing.
You start, and this song is absolutely nothing compared to the last one– difficulty erect and ready to go right off the get go. Triple click every note in rapid motion, she's already had her warm up. Shaking and struggling in Yena's grasp, who is doing her divine duty as best she can. Going above and beyond as well– kissing Yuri's neck like it's a fine treasure, letting her teeth scratch against the soft skin.
"Ngh, Yena! This is so over–" It's hard to articulate the beauty of the situation, maybe you've struck gold with this. Market it as a swinger's party device, make millions. While your salivating over potential profit (pp for short) Yuri is salivating at the pressure, crotches stained with both of their arousal intermingled as one slick layer.
"Overkill? Overwhelming? Overtastic?" Yena breaks the rules further, rubbing her clit feverishly, giving Yuri the time of her life. "Take my cocks, fucking you– like old times sake. Cum all around them!" You are the voyeur to time long past and only now you get an idea.
What if you just, stood to the left? So they are directly in your line of sight? Incredible.
"Okay!" Yuri takes Yena like the good girl she clearly is. "So, fucking full!" You stop playing the song, hold down every button to overwhelm the girl. She loses control, taking no time at all to reach orgasm. Gushing so hard it saturates your machine in shiny girlcum.
Yuri gets gently removed from the contraption, you'll clean it later. The second you put the guitar down Yena has a lustful gaze, eyes looking very hungry. "You haven't came."
"Well yeah, the prototype isn’t suited for penises currently–"
"Shut up, you know what I meant. Drop your clothes and come fuck us." She spoke for Yuri, though she seems just as down for it. A threesome with your innovator and her friend? Well that's the best idea since this guitar.
Yeji has always been possessive of her boyfriend, and tonight she reminds him exactly who he belongs to. In a loving but firmly dominant night, she takes full control, guiding him through intense pleasure while making sure he knows he’s completely hers.
The moment I walked through the door after a long day, Yeji was waiting for me. She stood in the hallway wearing one of my favorite oversized shirts on her, the hem barely covering her thighs. Her sharp eyes locked onto me immediately, and that familiar possessive smile curved her lips.
“You’re finally home,” she said, voice low and sweet but with that edge I knew so well. “Come here, baby.”
I walked straight to her. Yeji pulled me into a deep kiss, her fingers gripping the front of my shirt like she never wanted to let go. When she pulled back, she looked up at me with those intense eyes.
“You didn’t text me much today. Were you talking to anyone else?”
I shook my head quickly. “Just work stuff. I swear.”
She hummed, running her thumb across my bottom lip. “Good boy. Because you’re mine. Only mine. Don’t forget that.”
She led me to the bedroom without another word. Once inside, she pushed me down onto the bed and climbed on top, straddling my waist. Her hands pinned my wrists above my head as she kissed me again, slower this time but full of heat.
“Strip for me,” she ordered softly, sitting back so I could obey.
I took my clothes off under her watchful gaze. When I was naked, Yeji smiled with satisfaction and wrapped her hand around my already hard cock, stroking me with firm, slow movements.
“Look at you. Getting hard so fast just from noona’s touch. You really are mine, aren’t you?”
“Yes,” I breathed, hips twitching into her hand. “All yours, Yeji.”
She rewarded me by leaning down and taking me into her mouth. The blowjob was possessive—deep and wet, her tongue working me while her eyes stayed locked on mine. She sucked harder when I moaned, one hand stroking the base while the other rested on my thigh, nails lightly digging in as a reminder.
After a few minutes she pulled off and moved up my body. “Time for you to eat your owner’s pussy,” she said, voice husky. She positioned herself over my face, lowering down until her wet folds pressed against my mouth.
I licked her eagerly, sucking on her clit the way she liked. Yeji moaned above me, rolling her hips and riding my face with controlled movements. Her thighs squeezed the sides of my head as she used me for her pleasure.
“That’s it… good boy. Lick deeper. Make noona feel good.”
I gave everything I had, tongue sliding inside her and circling her clit while she ground down. Her moans grew louder, sweeter, until she came hard, flooding my mouth with her taste. She stayed there for a moment, catching her breath, gently stroking my hair.
“You did well,” she praised, finally lifting off. “But we’re not done.”
Yeji stroked my cock again, teasing the tip with her thumb. “Tell me who you belong to.”
“You,” I groaned. “Only you.”
She smiled, satisfied, and sank down onto me in one smooth motion. Her pussy was tight and warm as she started riding me, hands on my chest for leverage. She moved with purpose, hips rolling in those perfect circles that always drove me crazy.
“Mine,” she repeated between moans. “This cock is mine. Your pleasure is mine. Say it.”
“It’s all yours,” I gasped, hands gripping her thighs.
Yeji rode me harder, leaning down to kiss me possessively. She whispered dirty words in my ear—reminding me how no one else could ever have me, how she’d always take care of what was hers. The combination of her tight heat and her words had me throbbing inside her.
We switched positions so she could take me from on top in a different angle, facing away this time. I watched her ass bounce as she rode me reverse, her hand reaching back to play with my balls occasionally. She stayed fully in control the whole time, setting the pace and telling me exactly when to thrust up.
“Touch my clit,” she ordered. I obeyed immediately, rubbing her while she chased another orgasm.
When she came again, clenching around me beautifully, she turned back around and kissed me messily. “I want you to cum inside me. Fill your owner up.”
She rode me faster, squeezing her pussy around me until I couldn’t hold back. I groaned her name as I came deep inside her, pumping every drop while she milked me through it.
Yeji stayed on top afterward, gently rocking her hips as we both caught our breath. She leaned down and kissed my forehead, then my cheeks, her possessive energy softening into pure affection.
“You’re such a good boy for me,” she whispered, stroking my hair. “I love you so much. I just want you to remember who you come home to every day.”
“I know,” I said, wrapping my arms around her. “I love being yours.”
She smiled and cuddled closer, still keeping me inside her for a little longer. We stayed like that, talking softly about our days and making quiet plans for the weekend. Even after the intense sex, she was the same caring Yeji—checking if I was okay, bringing me water, and making sure I felt loved.
Later that night we went for another round. This time she had me on my back again, riding me slow and deep while whispering more possessive words. She taught me exactly how she wanted my hands on her body, how to angle my hips, and how to hold back until she gave permission.
When I came the second time, again deep inside her, she kissed me tenderly and told me how proud she was.
As we finally settled down to sleep, Yeji curled against my chest, one leg thrown over mine. Her fingers traced lazy patterns on my skin.
“You’re mine forever, right?” she asked, voice sleepy but still carrying that loving possessiveness.
“Forever,” I answered, holding her tight.
She fell asleep first, breathing steady and content. I stayed awake a little longer, feeling incredibly lucky. Yeji’s dominant side made me feel desired and owned in the best way, but her aftercare and affection always reminded me how deeply she cared.
Being hers wasn’t just about giving up control. It was about trusting someone who loved me enough to claim every part of me—and give every part of herself in return.
Every morning with Karina feels like a warm dream. As her boyfriend, I wake up to her gentle touch and sleepy kisses, turning our usual routine into slow, loving morning sex filled with affection, pleasure, and the kind of closeness that makes the rest of the day brighter.
Sunlight filtered softly through the half-closed curtains of our bedroom, painting the sheets in warm golden tones. The clock on the nightstand read a little after seven, but time always moved differently when I woke up next to Karina. She was still asleep, curled against my side with her head on my chest and one leg thrown over mine. Her long dark hair spilled across the pillow, and she looked so peaceful and beautiful it made my heart ache in the best way.
We had been living together for a few months now, and this had become our favorite routine. No alarms, no rushing — just slow, sleepy love before the world outside demanded her attention as aespa’s leader. I ran my fingers gently through her hair, tracing small circles on her back. She stirred, letting out a soft hum as her eyes fluttered open.
“Morning, baby,” she whispered, voice still husky from sleep. A small, content smile curved her lips as she tilted her head up for a kiss.
I met her halfway, kissing her slowly and deeply. Her lips were soft and warm, tasting faintly of the lip balm she always wore to bed. Karina sighed into the kiss, pressing closer until her body was flush against mine. I could feel the heat of her skin through the thin tank top she’d slept in. My hand slid down her side, slipping under the fabric to caress her bare waist.
She broke the kiss with a little laugh. “You’re already hard,” she teased gently, grinding her hips against me just enough to make me groan. “Is this how you say good morning every day?”
“Only because you’re so beautiful,” I murmured, kissing her again. My hands moved higher, cupping her full breasts through the thin material. I pushed the tank top up slowly, exposing them. Karina helped me pull it off completely, tossing it aside.
I leaned down and took one of her nipples into my mouth, sucking gently like a baby. She moaned softly, arching her back to give me more. I lavished attention on her breasts, switching between them — sucking, licking, and kissing every inch while my hands kneaded the soft flesh. Karina threaded her fingers through my hair, holding me close as her breathing grew heavier.
“That feels so good… keep going,” she whispered, voice full of sleepy affection.
I spent a long time there, worshipping her chest the way she loved. The soft sounds she made, the way her body responded to every touch — it was addictive. Eventually, she reached down between us and wrapped her hand around my cock, stroking me slowly. Her grip was perfect, warm and steady, sending waves of pleasure through me.
I groaned against her breast, the vibration making her shiver. She pushed me gently onto my back and moved lower, kissing down my chest and stomach. When she reached my cock, she looked up at me with those dark, loving eyes and gave the tip a soft kiss.
“Good morning to you too,” she said playfully before taking me into her mouth.
The blowjob was slow and lazy, just like the morning itself. Karina sucked me gently at first, her tongue swirling around the head. She took her time, licking every inch before lowering her head further. Then she moved even lower, licking and sucking on my balls with warm, wet strokes of her tongue while her hand continued stroking my shaft. The sensation was incredible. I had to grip the sheets to stay grounded.
“You like that, baby?” she asked softly, looking up at me between licks. “I love taking care of you like this.”
She returned to sucking my cock, bobbing her head a little faster now, one hand playing with my balls. I watched her the whole time, mesmerized by how gorgeous she looked with her lips wrapped around me. After several long, perfect minutes, I pulled her back up for another deep kiss, tasting myself on her tongue.
I flipped us carefully so she was on her back. I kissed her again, then moved down her body, returning the favor. I licked her slowly, savoring how wet she already was. Karina’s hands stayed in my hair, guiding me gently as she moaned my name. I added my fingers, curling them just right while my tongue focused on her clit until her thighs started trembling.
When she was close, I moved back up and slid inside her in one smooth thrust. We both sighed in relief. Morning sex with Karina was always slow and intimate. I rocked into her gently, deep and unhurried, our bodies pressed close. We kissed the whole time, sharing breath and quiet whispers of “I love you.”
We changed positions naturally. She climbed on top, riding me in lazy cowgirl. Her breasts bounced softly with every roll of her hips, and I reached up to cup them, sucking on her nipples again while she moved. Karina’s head fell back, soft moans filling the room. She looked like an angel in the morning light.
After a while, I sat up, holding her close as she continued riding me. We were face to face, foreheads touching, breathing each other in. I thrust up to meet her movements, hitting that perfect spot inside her. She came first, clenching around me with a beautiful, quiet cry, her body trembling in my arms.
I followed soon after, pulling out at the last second. Karina stroked me through it, aiming my cock at her chest. Thick ropes of cum landed on her breasts, some reaching her lips and tongue as she leaned forward with her mouth open. She looked incredibly sexy like that, eyes locked on mine while she licked her lips clean.
We stayed like that for a moment, catching our breath and smiling at each other. Then I grabbed the warm towel I’d left on the nightstand last night and gently cleaned her up, kissing every spot I wiped. Karina pulled me back down into her arms, and we cuddled under the messy sheets.
She rested her head on my chest again, legs tangled with mine. My hand stroked up and down her back in slow, soothing motions. The room was quiet except for our breathing and the distant sound of the city waking up outside.
“I love our mornings,” she whispered, pressing a kiss right over my heart. “No schedules, no cameras… just us.”
“Me too,” I answered, hugging her tighter. “Best part of every day.”
We talked softly about little things — what she wanted for breakfast, how her upcoming schedule looked, silly dreams she’d had the night before. Karina’s fingers traced lazy patterns on my skin while I played with her hair. Every now and then she’d lean up for another kiss, slow and full of love. There was no rush to leave the bed. These quiet moments were ours, and we held onto them as long as we could.
Eventually, the sun grew brighter and her stomach growled softly. I laughed and kissed the top of her head.
“Stay here. I’ll make you something,” I said, starting to get up.
But she pulled me back down with a pout. “Five more minutes. I’m not ready to share you with the day yet.”
I smiled and settled back in, wrapping her in my arms again. We cuddled even closer, bodies warm and satisfied. I could feel her heartbeat against mine, steady and comforting. In these moments, Karina wasn’t the idol the world saw. She was just my girlfriend — soft, loving, and completely mine.
When we finally got up, I made her favorite breakfast while she showered. She came out wearing one of my shirts, hair still damp, and hugged me from behind as I cooked. We ate together at the small table by the window, stealing kisses between bites and talking about everything and nothing.
Mornings with Karina had become my favorite routine. The slow, loving sex, the endless cuddles afterward, the way she looked at me like I was her whole world — it made every challenge outside these walls feel manageable. She was the brightest part of my days, and I hoped these quiet, intimate mornings would last forever.
Later, as she got ready to head to the company, she pulled me in for one last long hug at the door. “Thank you for this morning,” she whispered against my chest. “I’ll be thinking about it all day.”
I kissed her forehead. “I love you. Come home to me later, okay?”
“Always,” she promised with a soft smile.
Watching her leave, I already couldn’t wait for tomorrow morning and our next routine.
The End.
(Last Post for Today, Good Night Everyone. - Jaewon)
Chaewon and I have been keeping our relationship secret for months while I work behind the scenes with LE SSERAFIM. During a late-night choreography session, the tension becomes too much, leading us to sneak into a private room for quiet, loving, and risky sex that leaves us closer than ever.
The practice room lights were dimmed low, most of the main overheads turned off hours ago. Only a few soft spotlights remained, casting gentle shadows across the mirrored walls. It was past midnight, and the rest of the members had already gone back to the dorm to rest. Chaewon had asked me to stay behind for “extra choreography practice,” and since I handled some of the behind-the-scenes scheduling and support for the group, no one questioned it. No one knew the real reason.
We had been together in secret for almost six months now. Stolen moments in hallways, quiet texts late at night, and these rare private sessions where we could finally drop the professional act. Chaewon looked beautiful under the soft lights, her hair tied in a loose ponytail, wearing a simple oversized t-shirt and tight practice shorts that showed off her toned legs. She was small but carried so much power when she danced. Right now, though, the choreography was the last thing on either of our minds.
We had been “practicing” for about twenty minutes, but our eyes kept meeting in the mirror, the air between us growing thicker. Finally, she walked over and took my hand, pulling me toward the small private studio room connected to the main hall — the one used for recording dance videos or one-on-one coaching.
“Lock the door,” she whispered, voice already a little breathless.
I clicked the lock and turned to her. Chaewon stepped close, rising on her tiptoes to kiss me. It started soft and sweet, the kind of kiss that reminded me why we kept risking everything. Her lips were warm and familiar. I wrapped my arms around her waist, pulling her smaller body against mine as the kiss deepened. She sighed into my mouth, hands sliding up my chest.
“We have to be quiet,” she murmured against my lips, even though we were alone. “The security guards still do rounds.”
I nodded, kissing her again, slower this time. My hands roamed down her back and cupped her ass, squeezing gently. Chaewon let out a tiny whimper and pressed closer, grinding against me. I could already feel myself getting hard. She noticed too. Her hand slipped between us and palmed me through my shorts.
“You’re so hard already,” she whispered with a soft, shy smile. “Did you miss me that much today?”
“Always,” I answered honestly, voice low. I kissed her neck, sucking lightly on the sensitive spot I knew she loved. She tilted her head to give me better access, biting her lip to stay quiet.
We moved to the small couch in the corner of the private room. I sat down and she climbed onto my lap, straddling me. We made out like teenagers, hands exploring under clothes. I slipped my hands under her t-shirt, cupping her bare breasts. Her nipples were already hard. I teased them with my thumbs while she rocked against me.
Chaewon pulled my shorts down just enough to free my cock. Her small, soft hand wrapped around me and started stroking slowly, twisting at the head the way I liked. The feeling was incredible. I groaned quietly into her mouth, trying my best to stay silent.
“Shhh, baby,” she teased softly, even though she was the one making it hard for me. She stroked me faster, her grip perfect. Then she slid off my lap and knelt between my legs on the floor. She looked up at me with those bright, sparkling eyes as she leaned in and licked a slow stripe from base to tip.
She took her time worshipping me. First, she licked and sucked gently on my balls, her tongue warm and gentle, sending shivers up my spine. I had to grip the edge of the couch to keep from making too much noise. Then she moved back to my cock, taking me into her mouth in one smooth motion. The blowjob was wet and loving — she bobbed her head slowly at first, then faster, sucking with just the right pressure. Her tongue pressed against the underside while her hand stroked the base.
“You taste so good,” she whispered when she pulled off for air, stroking me steadily. “I love having you in my mouth like this.”
I pulled her back up for another deep kiss before things went too far. We switched positions, and I laid her down gently on the couch. I peeled her shorts and panties off, spreading her legs. She was already soaked. I kissed down her body, spending extra time on her breasts, sucking and licking her nipples until she was squirming. Then I moved lower, licking her slowly, savoring how sweet she tasted.
Chaewon covered her mouth with her hand to muffle her moans. “Feels so good… don’t stop, please.”
I added a finger, then two, curling them while my tongue focused on her clit. Her hips bucked softly, and I could tell she was getting close. But she tugged my hair gently, pulling me up.
“I need you inside me,” she whispered urgently. “Now.”
I positioned myself between her legs and slid in slowly, savoring every inch. She was tight and warm, fitting me perfectly. We both let out quiet sighs of relief. I started thrusting gently at first, keeping the rhythm steady and deep. The couch creaked softly beneath us, but we tried to stay as quiet as possible. Every moan she made was muffled against my shoulder.
We changed positions carefully. She turned over, gripping the back of the couch as I took her from behind. This angle let me go deeper, and I reached around to rub her clit while thrusting. Chaewon pushed back against me, meeting every movement.
“Faster… but quiet,” she breathed. Her voice was full of need.
I sped up, one hand on her hip and the other covering her mouth gently as she got louder. The risk of getting caught made everything feel more intense. We moved together perfectly, bodies slick with sweat despite the air conditioning.
After a while, she turned back around to face me, legs wrapped around my waist. We were in missionary on the couch now, eyes locked. I thrust deep and steady, kissing her through every moan. The intimacy of it — secret, loving, just us — made my heart feel full even as the pleasure built.
“I’m close,” I whispered against her lips.
“Cum in my mouth,” she answered softly, eyes shining with love and desire. “I want to taste you.”
I pulled out and she quickly moved down, taking me back into her warm mouth. She sucked eagerly, hand stroking fast. It only took a few seconds before I came hard, groaning as quietly as I could while filling her mouth with thick ropes of cum. Chaewon swallowed every drop, licking me clean afterward with gentle, caring strokes of her tongue.
We stayed like that for a moment, catching our breath. Then I pulled her up into my arms, holding her close on the couch. She curled against my chest, legs tangled with mine. I stroked her hair slowly, pressing soft kisses to her forehead and temple.
“You okay?” I asked quietly.
“More than okay,” she murmured, snuggling closer. “I needed that. Needed you.”
We talked in hushed voices for a long time afterward. About how much we missed being able to act normal in front of others, about how hard it was keeping the secret, but how worth it everything felt. Chaewon traced little patterns on my chest with her finger while I held her tight. Her body was warm and soft against mine, and I never wanted to let go.
Eventually, exhaustion from the long practice and everything we’d just done caught up with us. I grabbed the spare blanket from the shelf and covered us both. We fell asleep right there on the couch, wrapped up in each other. Chaewon’s head rested on my chest, her breathing slow and even. I stayed awake a little longer, just watching her sleep, feeling incredibly lucky.
Sometime in the early morning, before the building got busy again, I woke her with gentle kisses. We cleaned up quickly, fixed our clothes, and made sure there was no trace of what had happened. Chaewon gave me one last long hug before we slipped back into the main practice room like nothing had changed.
But everything had. These secret moments — the quiet sex, the loving aftercare, falling asleep together — kept us going. She was my everything, even if the world couldn’t know it yet. And I was hers.
Later that day, during regular practice with the full group, our eyes would meet across the room and she’d give me that tiny, secret smile that was just for me. It was enough. For now, it was more than enough.
Pre-story notes: You know what time it is, boys?!?! SAY IT WITH ME!!! #BREEDMINJU
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Greetings, my boy
How’s your life up there in Korea? I hope the cold wasn’t too much for you.
I do not know when you will find this letter. I might be long gone by the time this message reaches your office.
I will not lie, Thirdy. My body is killing me right now. I thought I just saw your grandmother the night before. God, Leonora, bless her soul.
But anyways, should you find this letter, I hope you can fulfill this one last request before I go.
When I was there, 75 years ago in '51, I fell in love with one of the Korean nurses. Minju was her name. Park Minju, that name never forgot me even after I married your grandma for 70 years. Everyday and every night as you and your father got older, the girl Park Minju never left my memory.
Gosh, if Baby Villareal was Korean, her name would've been Park Minju! I fell in love with that girl the moment I laid my eyes upon her. I didn't speak any Korean and she could barely speak some English, thanks to that small dictionary of hers that she used for nursing school.
I could never tell you how many times I've had Captain Yap slap me on the back of my head for daydreaming while on duty. Hell! I even thought about getting hurt on purpose just to be with her, to talk to her while she tended to my "battle scars", scars that I basically invented.
She had this way of tilting her head and frowning at me—a look that said *you're a complete idiot*—but her eyes were as sweet as your grandmother's honey cakes.
But speaking about battle scars, I'm pretty sure you already know that I got all of them in Yultong. Our family already knew about my ordeal there.
Oh, those poor souls, those brave men, Captain Yap, I still can't believe he sacrificed his life for me! Maybe when I'm gone, I'll meet him in heaven and I'll finally thank him face to face. You, all of you, already know of my survival and Captain Yap's sacrifice.
But what you did not know was how Park Minju tended to me when I thought I was at the hour of death!
I barely made it out alive, I was taken to a stretcher with a twisted ankle and a bullet on my shoulder, but that wasn't what had me shaking. It was the cold. The kind of cold that turns your breath into shards of glass and makes your blood feel like sludge. It was nothing like Baguio! No, it was so much worse!
God, I was so scared of sleeping in those days! I was so terrified that if I closed my eyes, I would've never woken up! I... I couldn't bear thinking I was gonna leave mama and papa behind so soon! I was around your age at that time, around 20 or 21.
Park Minju and I were around the same age as well, but she had a strength that didn't come from muscle. She would walk between the rows of stretchers, her small hands smelling of carbolic acid and cheap soap, checking bandages with a precision that felt like a prayer.
But then, one night, Oh god, I hope I don't make you feel embarrassed by the time you read this.
One night, she came into my 'cubicle', a small space for myself really only separated with curtains. I was on the far corner, one of the last few patients far from the entrance.
I remembered seeing her so pale and so exhausted. The sheer number of deaths and wounded from the battle took a toll on her. I knew she was there to check up on me as part of her routine. But instead of heading out for the next patient, she chose to stay behind in my cubicle to have her break.
She had a couple pieces of home made kimbap and a bottle of water for us to share. We sat there in a heavy, suffocating silence, but for the first time in weeks, I didn't feel that bone-deep chill. She didn't say a word—she didn't have to. She just leaned her shoulder against mine, her small frame shivering under that oversized nursing coat, and let out a sigh that sounded like a prayer for everyone who didn't make it.
With the limited Korean and English we had, I managed to get to talk to her, far longer than I could've imagined. She told me a bit about her little village, the one with the pear blossoms that smelled like heaven and the way her mother would scold her for staying up too late reading.
I remember leaning in close, smelling that scent of carbolic acid mixed with something sweet—maybe jasmine, maybe just the hope of something more. And that's when I remembered asking about our first loves.
I told her about having a bad break-up with my girlfriend at that time, your old grade school Math teacher Mrs. Estrada and she told me her husband was gunned down in the early stages of the war. She had been grieving about it ever since. We were two broken things leaning on each other in a room full of dying men, finding some weird kind of comfort in our shared misery.
I reached out and touched her hand. I thought she was going to pull away. But instead, she squeezed my fingers back, her skin feeling warm and soft against my rough, calloused palm.
I met her eyes once more and the sight of her face, oh so close and so precious, made my heart go race! She gave me this tiny, shy little smile—the kind that makes you feel like the only person in the whole wide world.
I kissed her...
I kissed her and I thought, Oh no... What have I done? I shouldn't have! Not without her consent!
But instead of slapping me or running for the head nurse, the girl kissed me back! I could still remember to this day how her lips felt like soft little marshmallows, and suddenly the whole world just vanished, leaving only the two of us in that tiny, curtained-off space.
I laid us down where she settled on my side, her body avoiding my injuries. Yet, I couldn’t care less about the pain, not when Park Minju's lips were treating me better than any dose of aspirin! My hands were fondling and touching her body in places that shouldn’t have been touched!
My hands were all over her thin frame, sliding beneath her nursing coat to find the heat of her skin. I remember the sound of the heavy canvas curtain snapping shut, sealing us away from the groans of the dying and the sterile smell of the ward. She pressed me gently on my back into the thin army cot, the metal frame creaking under our combined weight, and I groaned when my shoulder flared with pain.
But the pain was nothing compared to the electric shock of her bum sitting on my groin. God, I could never forget how her ass filled my crotch! She wasn’t as big as your grandmother's, but fuck, the feel of it all, the small soft flesh of her buttcheeks squeezing my hardness through the thin fabric of my army trousers, made my head spin. I reached up, my fingers digging into the meat of her hips, pulling her closer until there wasn't a single inch of air left between us.
I kissed her like a madman that night. Even when I made love to your grandmother, the ghost of Minju's lips never left my body. Her mouth was so small yet so perfect, like she may have been meant for me. We didn't have a bed or any luxury; just that narrow cot and the constant threat of a patrol officer walking by. Every time the curtain flickered, we froze, our breath hitching in sync, making the actual act of touching feel like we were stealing gold from the gods.
But nothing was gonna stop us from our act that night. There was a moment when I felt her lips kissing down on me, trailing down my chest, my stomach all the way to my cock. I thought, damn her face looks so small! So small you'd think my length would be too much for her. I felt her small, cold hands reach for the drawstring of my trousers, pulling them down with a desperate speed that told me she wanted this just as bad as I did.
And when she finally touched me, her fingers wrapping around my shaft, I nearly jumped off that cot! She didn’t know the English word for "hard," but the way she gripped me, sliding her small palm up and down the length of it, told me everything. I let out a ragged moan that sounded more like a plea, my hips arching instinctively toward her. She looked up at me with those wide, dark eyes, her breath hitching as she felt me pulse against her skin.
And when she took me into her maw, I thought, Shit! I thought I just got out of a bombing run! Her mouth was so warm, like a little oven, and her tongue felt like a tiny, velvet ribbon wrapping around me. I watched her, this small, delicate creature, looking up at me with those wide eyes while she worked her magic.
She was so focused, her little cheeks hollowing out as she sucked on me, making these tiny *slurp* noises that sounded like the cutest little kitten drinking milk. It was just so... cute! I wanted to scream from the joy of it!
I was scared for a moment that I might hurt her. I tried telling her not to push herself. Yet every word that came out of my mouth only spurred her on to go further, her nostrils tapping my groin and her throat taking my tip.
My hands just held her head like she was some kind of fragile porcelain doll, my fingers tangling in the soft, dark hair at the nape of her neck. She looked up at me, her eyes shimmering with a mixture of innocence and a hunger that didn't match her petite size. The way she looked at me—like I was the only man left on earth—made my chest ache in a way that had nothing to do with my wounds.
I thought, Jeez! The sight of her face with my dick deep down inside was like a ghost that was going to haunt me until the end of my days!
She pulled out of me suddenly. And before I could utter a groan, she keeps me on my back, saying something along the lines of *You're hurt* and *must stay still*. I could barely move a muscle when she slowly got on top of me once more.
My eyes stayed glued to hers, yet I had an idea of what she was doing underneath her skirt! She lifted it slightly up just enough for me to see her discarding her underwear. I trembled when I felt the slick heat of what I thought was her womanhood, raw, hairless and dripping, as she slowly lowered her small hips.
And when she lowered herself down, sitting on my cock inside her clit, I thought, God! What did I do to deserve this? Her snatch was like a tight glove, gripping me so hard it felt like she was trying to pull my very soul out through my dick. She let out a sharp, jagged gasp, her head tilting back, her small hands clutching my chest for balance. I felt the wetness of her—thick and hot—slicking my skin as she began to move, a slow, rhythmic grind that turned my insides into liquid.
I thought, Fuck! I could never tell your grandmother how sorry I was for still thinking about Minju everytime we made love. Even when she told me that she loved me, even when I told her that I loved her back, the memory of Park Minju and her body never left my mind, like a fever that would never break.
Every grind and every slight bounce that she did on top of me felt like a secret we were stealing from the war. She was so tiny, Thirdy, but she had this fierce way of clinging to me, her small fingers digging into my shoulders as if she were afraid I’d vanish if she let go for even a second. I still remember the sound of her breath—much more than your own grandmother's.
She felt exactly as I thought she would've felt if I was deep down inside! I tried thrusting up yet her hands kept slapping me lightly, her broken English telling me to stay still, that I was too hurt to move. I had to just lie there like a piece of driftwood in a storm, feeling her small, soft body ride me with a rhythmic intensity that made my toes curl.
The least I could do was lock my hands on her waist and guide her rhythm, my thumbs digging into the soft dip of her lower back. Each time she descended, the friction of her tight, soaking walls felt like she was squeezing the breath right out of my lungs. She started to make these little whimpering sounds, a high-pitched, desperate humming in the back of her throat that told me she was right on the edge.
Her movements became frantic, a blurred succession of wet slaps and gasps that echoed in the small, curtained space, turning the sterile air into something thick and musk-scented.
I felt myself coming close as well! I was desperately trying to tell her that I was close! So close that I might spill inside her. Yet my plea came through deaf ears, either she didn't hear my whispers or she didn't understand my English! She just kept nodding and kept saying 'Ne!' 'Ne!' which I thought was her way of telling me that she liked what was happening.
And when she slammed on me one last time, I felt myself blow! I don't know how many orgasms I've had when I made love with your grandmother later on. But that one orgasm I had that night, the one I had with Nurse Minju, felt like an explosion in a munitions depot. I could still remember the heat of my seed filling her up, a thick, pulsing wave that left me shaking from my head to my toes. She let out a long, shivering moan, her body collapsing against my chest, her small heart hammering like a trapped bird against my ribs.
I don't know how long we were stuck in there, her thin, panting and exhausted body heaving on top of my frame whilst my dick kept spilling deep inside her! I thought, Shit! I was filling this girl up! I was cumming deep down inside her, so deep you'd think I was flooding her womb, breeding and knocking her up!
I thought, Oh god! I should be stopping right now! Yet I was too frail and too limp to even move! Every last drop of me was pouring into her, a desperate, messy release that felt less like sex and more like a confession. We stayed like that for what felt like hours, the smell of sweat and sex mingling with the sterile scent of the ward, our breathing slowly syncing back to the rhythm of the living. She didn't pull away immediately; she kept her forehead pressed against me, her dark eyes searching mine for something I couldn't name.
I remembered kissing her one last time. I don't know which one of us did it first. But that one kiss post orgasm was the last time I felt her lips with me. It felt like an eternity when we made out that night. And when I felt her lips slowly detach, it felt like the war suddenly came back to me.
The dark night, cold, the suffering, the pain, and all the misery, all came crashing back down on me, Nurse Minju reluctantly standing up as fixed herself in a haste and put her panties back up.
Her hair was still disheveled, but God, Park Minju was still the most precious thing I’d ever seen. She checked on me one last time, like she just switched from a cute girl to a veteran nurse in an instant, like she did not just have sex with her patient! She put a warm towel on my head and told me something that I couldn't comprehend.
I interpreted it as something along the lines of "I'll see you later..." or "Get well soon..." I nodded in response. I tried telling her that I loved her. I kept saying I love you or Mahal Kita just to spill out my feelings but her face continued to stay confused!
I tried saying I love you in Korean! I knew it was there at the back of my mind! But my lips had to malfunction at that moment of all moments. I just ended up making some sort of gargling sound, like a fish out of water, and she just tilted her head and gave me that little *you're-an-idiot* frown again.
Shit… The girl probably thought I was having another seizure from my injuries, the poor thing! She just patted my cheek with her small, soft hand—which was still a little sticky from our mess—and whispered something that sounded like "Babo."
Don't ask me when I found out that it actually meant "Idiot". But after that, she took her leave, her eyes meeting mine for the last time before she headed out into the darkness, the shape of her shadow gliding through the curtains before vanishing altogether.
To be honest with you, Thirdy. That was actually the first time in the war that I actually slept properly. I slept all night thinking about her and about what just happened. The scenes just kept playing and replaying in my dreams.
I slept that night thinking that I was going to spend the rest of my life with that girl. Once I healed up and that war would be over, I was going to take Minju down here to Davao.
But when I woke up, I was shocked to find myself on a flying relief plane heading back down to Clark! I already told us about me being sent back. But I did not tell you the part where I was thrashing out like a madman!
I kept asking why am I being sent home?!? Why was I not informed?!?! And most importantly, where was Minju?!?! I didn't even get to say goodbye to her!!!
The doctors said I had an infection during my sleep, the kind that needed an operation. The safest way to do that was a treatment at Clark, far far away from the battlefield. I cooperated naman din sa operation. But when I asked the high command to send me back, they refused, President Quirino's signature was on the order. I was officially a discharged soldier. I spent three days in a hospital bed in Pampanga, staring at the white ceiling and feeling like my heart had been ripped out of my chest by a bayonet.
For 3 months, I was barely getting by working odd jobs around Pampanga in a bid to get back to Korea! Hell! I even thought about sneaking into the base and smuggling myself into one of the supply boxes!
But somewhere along the way, I met your grandmother and my path slowly went down to Davao with her. And the rest was history.
That was my ordeal in Korea, Thirdy. To this day, your mother and father, your grandmother and your uncles never knew about this, about her. You're the very first in the family to know.
And if you have time, do you think you can inquire about her whereabouts? I never knew if she made it out of the war. Is she still alive? Did she grow old with someone else? During my spare time, I wrote letters to my former colleagues, to the Philippine embassy, the Korean Army HQ and the Yultong memorial staff on any information regarding Nurse Park Minju.
I received almost nothing for 70 years, only congratulatory messages about my past service, but nothing on Nurse Minju like she never existed at all!
I know it sounds futile. I never even had a picture of her. But please, as a final request, find her for me. Let me know what became of my first love.
The sealed envelope from the FBIA Decisions Bureau arrived at 7:08 AM. Director Park’s precise handwriting detailed the day’s assignment: "Shin Yuna (ITZY) – Level 3 Comprehensive Pre-Comeback Flexibility Evaluation. Emphasis on lower body flexibility, foot and ankle resilience, and external fluid response testing due to high-intensity dance choreography and visual shoots. Senior Inspector Park Gunwoo assigned. Agent Kang and Agent Lee to assist with positioning and documentation. Special lower extremity protocol authorized."
Senior Inspector Park Gunwoo reviewed the file in the preparation room. At twenty-one, Yuna was known for her exceptional flexibility and powerful stage presence, making this evaluation critical. The FBIA wing maintained its usual serene atmosphere—soft lighting, controlled temperature, and complete privacy.
Agent Kang entered first, broad and efficient. “All equipment prepared, Inspector. Extra warming oils for lower extremities and specialized lubricants ready.”
Agent Lee followed, tablet in hand. “Miss Yuna has arrived. She reviewed the full protocol, including the special foot method. She seems energetic but aware of the thoroughness.”
Park Gunwoo nodded. “Reconfirm consent frequently. Bring her in.”
Yuna entered the suite with bright, youthful energy mixed with professional focus. The ITZY member’s long limbs and striking visuals were immediately apparent as she held the white robe closed.
“Inspector Park Gunwoo, Agent Kang, Agent Lee,” she greeted with a polite bow. “I’m ready for the flexibility check. The new choreography is really pushing my limits.”
Park Gunwoo offered a reassuring smile. “We’ll ensure your body is fully prepared, Yuna. The Bureau requires a complete Level 3 protocol with a special lower extremity test. Full sensory mapping with fingers and tongue on every part. Consent is yours throughout. Do you agree to the full protocol?”
Yuna nodded confidently. “I consent to everything.”
“Understood. Remove the robe and lie face up on the table.”
She let the robe fall, revealing her tall, youthful, athletic body: perky, firm breasts with sensitive pink nipples, a toned slim waist, long powerful legs, a smooth shaved mound, and notably elegant, flexible feet that were central to her dance performances. Her skin was smooth and radiant.
Park Gunwoo started the visual assessment, circling slowly as Agent Lee documented. “Excellent flexibility indicators. Strong lower body tone with focus on ankles and feet.”
He began palpation at her neck and shoulders, fingers working out tension from intense practices. Agent Kang supported her upper back. Park Gunwoo’s tongue traced her collarbones and both armpits with slow, thorough licks. He moved to her breasts, cupping and kneading them before licking and sucking the nipples until they peaked. Yuna’s breathing quickened into soft moans.
After detailed torso and back checks (Agent Kang assisting turns, Agent Lee applying oil), they reached the lower body. Park Gunwoo parted her long legs. Agent Kang held one open. His fingers spread her folds, stroking every sensitive detail while his tongue delivered long, dedicated licks from entrance to clit. Yuna touched herself as instructed, rubbing her clit until she trembled and squirted powerfully across his tongue and fingers in clear, warm waves. He guided her through the intense peak.
After recovery, the special lower extremity protocol began.
“Special foot resilience and external fluid response test now,” Park Gunwoo announced. “This evaluates ankle flexibility and foot endurance under dynamic pressure, critical for your choreography. You will perform foot stimulation on me while I continue full-body mapping. At climax, I will release on your feet. You will then spread and massage the fluid for absorption checking. Consent confirmed?”
Yuna’s cheeks flushed, but she nodded. “I consent to the special method.”
With Agent Kang supporting her back and legs in a comfortable reclined position and Agent Lee providing lubrication, Yuna lifted her elegant feet. She pressed them together around Park Gunwoo’s hardened length, using her flexible soles and toes to stroke him. Her footjob was surprisingly skilled — long, smooth strokes along her arches, toes curling and gripping, alternating pressure with impressive control for a dancer’s precision.
Park Gunwoo continued the sensory mapping, licking across her breasts, neck, inner thighs, and along her legs while she worked. Yuna’s feet moved with rhythmic focus, sliding up and down his shaft, occasionally using her toes to tease the head. The slick, warm sensation of her soft soles and flexible toes built steadily.
After several minutes of intense foot stimulation, Park Gunwoo reached his limit. “Release phase.”
Yuna kept her feet pressed together as he came, thick warm ropes of cum landing across her soles, arches, and toes. She continued gentle stroking to draw out every drop, then, as instructed, used her fingers to spread the fluid thoroughly across both feet — massaging it into her skin, between her toes, and along her arches. Park Gunwoo assisted with his own fingers and tongue, licking and spreading the mixture while checking skin response and absorption. No adverse reactions were observed; her feet showed healthy resilience.
The session continued with posterior lower body checks: ass kneading, deep cleft licking over her tight hole, thighs, behind the knees, and final thorough foot worship (despite the earlier release, he licked and sucked each toe individually, mapping the now-sensitive skin).
The full session lasted nearly three hours. Yuna lay flushed and glistening, every body part thoroughly inspected, licked, and checked.
Park Gunwoo helped her sit up and draped a fresh robe around her shoulders, gently cleaning residual fluids. “Outstanding results, Yuna. The foot protocol confirmed excellent flexibility and resilience. The squirting and external response tests show strong overall endurance. You’re cleared with high recommendations.”
Yuna looked at him with hazy, satisfied eyes, lightly flexing her feet. “Thank you, Inspector Park Gunwoo… and the team. That was really intense, especially the special foot method, but I feel so much more flexible and confident now. My feet feel… cared for.”
Agent Kang gave an approving nod. “Protocol complete.”
Agent Lee finalized the report. “Data transmitted. Rest those talented feet well, Miss Yuna.”
As she prepared to leave, Park Gunwoo walked her to the door. “The FBIA supports your performances. Contact us if any tightness returns before the comeback.”
Yuna offered a bright, genuine smile. “I will. Thank you again.”
The door closed softly. Park Gunwoo cleaned up, reflecting on the specialized adaptations required for different idols.
Agent Lee remarked lightly, “Her foot technique was impressively precise. Tomorrow’s order incoming.”
Park Gunwoo checked the secure tablet. “The Bureau’s pace never slows.”
A quiet evening at home turns passionate when Momo, the loving and playful wife, decides to surprise her husband with a wilder side. What follows is an intimate, affectionate night filled with teasing, pleasure, and the deep trust they share as a married couple.
The apartment was peaceful after dinner. I had just finished washing the dishes when I felt arms wrap around me from behind. Momo rested her chin on my shoulder, her body warm against my back. She was still wearing the simple oversized t-shirt and shorts she’d changed into after work, but there was something different in the way she held me tonight.
“Missed you today,” she murmured, pressing a kiss to my neck. “You’ve been such a good husband lately. I think you deserve a reward.”
I turned around in her arms and smiled down at her. Even after years of marriage, Momo still made my heart skip. “What kind of reward are we talking about?”
She bit her lip, eyes sparkling with that playful, naughty glint I knew so well. “The kind where your wild wife takes care of you completely.”
She took my hand and led me to the bedroom. The lights were dimmed low, and she had already set out a couple of candles that filled the room with a soft vanilla scent. Momo pushed me gently onto the bed and climbed on top, straddling my waist as she kissed me deeply. Her kisses were hungry tonight, full of love but also clear desire.
“I want to try something new tonight,” she whispered against my lips. “If you’re okay with it.”
“Anything with you,” I replied, hands sliding up her thighs.
She smiled and started undressing me slowly, kissing every inch of skin she revealed. Once I was naked, she took her own clothes off, revealing her beautiful body. Her full breasts, toned waist, and that perfect ass that always drove me crazy.
Momo wrapped her soft hand around my cock, stroking me slowly at first. “Already so hard for me. My husband is so eager.”
She leaned down and gave me a long, loving blowjob. Her mouth was warm and wet, tongue swirling around the head before she took me deeper. She hummed happily, the vibration sending pleasure up my spine. One hand stroked the base while the other gently played with my balls.
“You taste so good,” she said when she pulled off for air, continuing with her hand. “I could do this all night.”
After a while she moved up, pressing her breasts together around my shaft for a titjob. The soft, warm pressure felt incredible as she moved them up and down, occasionally licking the tip when it poked through.
“Like that?” she asked, looking up at me with loving eyes. “Your cock looks so nice between my tits.”
I groaned in response, thrusting gently between them. Momo kept going until I was throbbing, then shifted higher so I could return the favor. I laid her on her back and spread her legs, burying my face between her thighs. I licked and sucked on her pussy eagerly, focusing on her clit while sliding two fingers inside her.
Momo’s moans filled the room, sweet and unrestrained. “Yes… just like that, baby. Your tongue feels amazing on my pussy.”
I ate her out thoroughly, bringing her to the edge and then over it. She came with a shudder, thighs squeezing around my head as she cried out my name. I kept licking her gently through the aftershocks until she pulled me up for a deep kiss.
“I want you in my ass tonight,” she whispered, cheeks flushed. “I’ve been thinking about it all day. Want to feel my husband deep inside me there.”
The dirty talk from my usually sweet wife made me even harder. We prepared carefully, using plenty of lube and going slow. Momo got on all fours, looking back at me with trust and excitement in her eyes.
“Be gentle at first,” she said softly. “But then I want you to fuck me properly.”
I rubbed my cock against her tight entrance, pushing in slowly. The feeling was incredibly tight and hot. Momo let out a long moan, gripping the sheets.
“Fuck… you’re so big,” she breathed. “Fill my ass, baby.”
I went inch by inch until I was fully inside her. We stayed still for a moment, letting her adjust. Then I started moving, slow thrusts at first that gradually became deeper and firmer. Momo pushed back against me, meeting my movements.
“Harder,” she moaned. “I can take it. Fuck your wild wife’s ass.”
I gripped her hips and gave her what she wanted, thrusting deeper while reaching around to rub her clit. The sounds of our bodies meeting mixed with her sweet, filthy words.
“You feel so good back there,” I groaned. “So tight for me.”
Momo’s moans grew louder as pleasure built for both of us. We changed positions—she rode me in reverse cowgirl, bouncing on my cock with her ass while I watched the incredible view. Then back to doggy, then missionary with her legs over my shoulders so I could see her face as I fucked her ass.
“I’m gonna cum again,” she gasped, fingers rubbing her own clit fast. “Cum inside my ass when you’re ready, okay? Fill me up.”
Her second orgasm hit hard, her whole body trembling as her ass clenched around me. That pushed me over the edge. I buried myself deep and came, pumping thick ropes of cum inside her ass. The pleasure was intense, leaving both of us breathless.
We stayed connected for a while, kissing softly as we came down. I pulled out carefully and cleaned us both up with a warm towel, then pulled her into my arms under the covers.
“You were amazing,” I whispered, stroking her hair. “My wild and sweet wife.”
Momo nuzzled into my chest, tracing patterns on my skin. “I love being able to share everything with you. Even the naughty parts. It makes me feel so close to you.”
We talked quietly afterward, laughing about how bold she had been and making plans for more lazy mornings and passionate nights. She fell asleep first, curled up against me with a content smile on her face.
Lying there holding my wife, I felt incredibly lucky. Momo brought so much love, laughter, and excitement into our marriage. Whether she was being my gentle partner during the day or my wild wife at night, every moment with her felt perfect.
As sleep started to pull me under, I kissed the top of her head one more time. “Love you forever.”
Even in her sleep, she snuggled closer, like she heard me. That was us—best friends, lovers, and partners who could be sweet and filthy together without ever losing the deep affection that held us close.
Karina has been my girlfriend for over a year, but her jealousy toward Giselle during practice sessions keeps sparking arguments. After one heated night, I apologize the best way I know how — with soft kisses, worship, and all the love she deserves in this fluffy, passionate makeup session that leaves us tangled and closer than ever.
The dorm was quiet except for the low buzz of the city outside the window and the faint hum of the air conditioner. Karina and I had just gotten back from a long practice day, and the tension between us had been building since the van ride home. She was still in her practice clothes — a cropped black hoodie that clung to her curves and loose sweatpants that hung low on her hips. Her long dark hair was tied up messily, a few strands framing her flushed face. Even tired and annoyed, she looked stunning. She always did.
I sat on the edge of the bed, watching her pace in front of me. The argument had started over something small but had snowballed, like it always did when Giselle’s name came up. Karina had been extra sharp during choreography checks today, her eyes flicking toward her member whenever Giselle laughed or stood too close during partner sections. I’d tried to brush it off earlier, but in the car she’d finally snapped.
“You always defend her,” Karina had said, voice tight. “Every single time. Do you even notice how you look at her when she dances?”
It wasn’t true, but jealousy had a way of twisting things in her mind after exhausting schedules. I knew she was tired, stressed, and carrying the weight of being the leader. Still, the words had stung.
Now, back in her room, she stopped pacing and crossed her arms, looking at me with those sharp, beautiful eyes that could melt me in seconds.
“I’m sorry,” I said before she could start again. My voice was soft, sincere. I stood up and stepped closer, reaching for her hands. “I didn’t mean to make you feel that way. Giselle is just a friend and your member. You’re the one I come home to. You’re the one I love.”
Karina’s shoulders relaxed a fraction, but she still looked guarded. I hated seeing that distance in her eyes. So instead of more words, I cupped her face gently and whispered, “Kiss me.”
She hesitated for half a second, then leaned in. The kiss started slow and tentative, like she was testing if I really meant the apology. But when I pulled her closer, hands sliding down to her waist, she melted into it. Her arms wrapped around my neck, and the kiss deepened, turning warmer, needier. I could taste the faint sweetness of the strawberry lip balm she always wore.
I broke the kiss just long enough to murmur against her lips, “Let me show you how sorry I am, baby.”
My fingers found the waistband of her sweatpants and eased them down slowly, letting them pool at her ankles. She stepped out of them without breaking eye contact. Underneath, she wore simple black panties that made her long legs look even more endless. I knelt down, pressing soft kisses along her thighs as I helped her out of the rest of her clothes. When I stood back up, she was in just her cropped hoodie, and I gently tugged that off too until she stood completely bare in front of me.
“You’re so beautiful,” I breathed, meaning every word. Karina’s body was toned from years of dancing — smooth skin, full breasts, tiny waist, and hips that curved perfectly. I leaned in and kissed her again, deeper this time, my hands roaming her back and sides.
She sighed into my mouth as I guided her toward the bed. I sat down first, pulling her between my legs. My hands cupped her breasts, feeling their weight and warmth. They were perfect — soft, full, with pretty pink nipples that hardened instantly under my thumbs. I worshipped them slowly, kissing the valley between them before taking one nipple into my mouth. I sucked gently, swirling my tongue around it while my other hand kneaded the other breast.
Karina moaned softly, her fingers threading through my hair. “That feels good…” she whispered, voice already breathy.
I switched sides, giving the other nipple the same loving attention — licking, sucking, lightly grazing with my teeth just the way she liked. Her back arched, pushing more of her chest into my face. I could have stayed there for hours, kissing and sucking on her perfect tits, telling her between kisses how much I loved them, how much I loved her.
After a while, she pulled me up for another heated kiss. Her hands moved down to my shorts, tugging at the fabric. “Off,” she murmured, a small smile finally breaking through.
I stood and let her remove my shorts and boxers herself. My cock sprang free, already hard and aching from touching her. Karina wrapped her soft hand around me, stroking slowly as she looked up at me with those dark, sparkling eyes.
She pushed me gently back onto the bed and climbed between my legs. Leaning forward, she pressed her breasts together around my shaft, creating that warm, soft pressure I loved. The titjob started slow — she moved her chest up and down, squeezing me between her full tits while looking straight into my eyes. The sight was incredible. Every time the head of my cock peeked out from between them, she leaned down and gave it a wet lick or a soft kiss.
“Fuck, Karina… you’re so hot,” I groaned, hips twitching.
She smiled, clearly enjoying how much power she had over me right now. She sped up a little, sliding her breasts along my length while one hand stroked the base. The soft, warm friction combined with her tongue teasing the tip had me throbbing in no time.
After a few minutes, she shifted lower and took me into her mouth. The blowjob was gentle at first — warm, wet kisses along the shaft, then slow, deep sucks that made my toes curl. Her tongue pressed against the underside as she bobbed her head, taking more of me each time. One hand stroked what she couldn’t fit, while the other gently played with my balls. The sounds she made — soft hums and wet slurps — were driving me crazy.
“You taste so good,” she whispered when she pulled off for air, strings of saliva connecting her lips to my cock. She stroked me firmly with her slick hand, eyes locked on mine the whole time. “I love making you feel like this.”
I was getting close, but I didn’t want it to end yet. I sat up and pulled her into a deep kiss, tasting myself on her tongue. Then I flipped us carefully so she was on her back. I kissed down her body again, paying extra attention to her breasts before moving lower. I spread her legs and worshipped her with my mouth, licking and sucking on her clit until she was moaning loudly, fingers gripping my hair.
When she was dripping wet and trembling, I moved back up and positioned myself between her thighs. I rubbed my cock against her entrance, teasing her for a moment before sliding in slowly. Karina gasped, nails digging into my shoulders as I filled her completely.
“You feel perfect,” I whispered, staying still inside her so she could adjust. “So tight and warm… I love you so much.”
We started moving together — slow, deep thrusts at first. I kept kissing her, swallowing her moans while my hands roamed her body. I worshipped her breasts again, sucking on her nipples as I rocked into her. Karina wrapped her legs around my waist, heels pressing into my back, urging me deeper.
“Harder, baby,” she breathed. “I need you.”
I picked up the pace, thrusting deeper, the sound of our bodies meeting filling the room along with her sweet moans. We changed positions after a while — she turned onto her hands and knees, and I took her from behind, one hand reaching around to rub her clit while the other squeezed her breast. She came hard like that, pussy clenching around me as she cried out my name.
I pulled out before I finished and flipped her onto her back again. She pushed her breasts together invitingly, and I straddled her chest. She stroked me fast with both hands while I thrust between her tits. The pressure built quickly.
“I’m close,” I groaned.
“Cum on them,” she whispered, eyes shining with love and lust. “I want to feel it.”
A few more strokes and I came with a deep groan, thick ropes of cum painting her beautiful breasts and collarbone. Karina watched with a satisfied little smile, milking every drop.
I collapsed beside her, breathing hard. Without a word, I grabbed a warm towel from the bathroom and gently cleaned her up, kissing every spot I wiped. Then I pulled her into my arms. We lay tangled together under the soft blanket, her head on my chest, one leg thrown over mine. I stroked her hair slowly, pressing kisses to her forehead.
“I’m really sorry about earlier,” I murmured. “You’re the only one I want. Giselle doesn’t even compare to you.”
Karina snuggled closer, tracing patterns on my stomach with her finger. “I know. I get too jealous sometimes… especially when I’m tired. Thank you for being patient with me.”
We talked quietly for a long time after that — about practice, about how stressful her schedule was, about little things that made us laugh. She told me how safe she felt with me, how my touch always melted her worries away. I told her how proud I was of her, how she shined brightest on stage, and how lucky I was to be the one she came home to.
Eventually her breathing slowed, and I felt her relax completely against me. I kept stroking her back in gentle circles until I drifted off too, holding her like she was the most precious thing in the world.
Waking up a couple hours later, I found her still curled into my side. The room was dark except for the city lights filtering through the curtains. I kissed the top of her head and pulled the blanket higher around us. Karina stirred, pressing a sleepy kiss to my chest.
“Stay with me tonight?” she whispered.
“I’m not going anywhere,” I answered, hugging her tighter.
We made love one more time in the middle of the night — slower and even more intimate this time. Missionary again, eyes locked, whispering “I love you” between every thrust. She came first, trembling beneath me, and I followed right after, burying myself deep as I filled her. Afterward, we cleaned up quickly and returned to our favorite position: her in my arms, bodies pressed close, hearts beating together.
Karina was the hottest girlfriend anyone could ask for — talented, passionate, sometimes jealous, but always so full of love once the walls came down. And I was going to keep proving to her every single day that she was my only one.
After a long night drinking with his fellow officers at a comedy bar, the secret husband of Jeongyeon comes home drunk and needy. Too intoxicated to move properly, he can only beg for his wife’s touch. Jeongyeon, amused and loving, takes full control in a gentle femdom night filled with handjobs, blowjobs, titjobs, and passionate riding until he fills her completely.
The front door opened with a clumsy rattle at 1:47 AM. I stumbled in, jacket half-off, tie loosened, the smell of soju and cheap bar snacks clinging to my clothes. The comedy bar with the guys had started as a quick drink after shift and turned into something longer. Too long. My head was spinning, legs unsteady, but the second I saw Jeongyeon waiting on the couch in one of my old police academy shirts, everything felt a little clearer.
She looked up from her phone, eyebrows raised, a mix of amusement and fondness on her face. “Look who finally decided to come home. You smell like a bar exploded on you, officer.”
I grinned stupidly, kicking my shoes off and nearly falling over. “Missed you, wife. The guys kept buying rounds. Said I had to celebrate closing that big case.”
Jeongyeon stood up and walked over, steadying me with both hands on my chest. Even tipsy, I could see the love in her eyes. We had been secretly married for almost two years now — no big wedding, no public announcement. Just us, a quiet ceremony, and stolen nights like this where she could be my wife without the world knowing.
“You’re drunk,” she said, but she was smiling. “And horny. I can feel you against my thigh already.”
I groaned, leaning into her. “Been thinking about you all night. Want you so bad, baby. Please… fuck your husband.”
She laughed softly, that low, warm sound that always made my chest feel full. “You can barely stand, and you want sex? Cute. But okay. Mommy will take care of you tonight.”
She guided me to the bedroom, one arm around my waist. I collapsed onto the bed, the room spinning a little, but my cock was rock hard in my pants. Jeongyeon climbed on top, straddling my hips, and slowly unbuttoned my shirt.
“Look at you,” she murmured, running her hands over my chest. “My big, strong police officer, too drunk to move. Guess I’ll have to do all the work.”
Her hand slid down and unzipped my pants, pulling my cock out. It sprang up, thick and throbbing. She wrapped her soft hand around it and started stroking slowly, twisting her wrist at the head.
“Already leaking for me,” she teased, thumb spreading the precum. “Such a needy husband.”
The handjob was perfect — firm, steady, her fingers knowing exactly how I liked it. I groaned, hips twitching uselessly beneath her. “Baby… please… suck it.”
She smirked, that playful femdom energy she got when I was like this. “Begging already? Cute.” She slid down my body and took me into her mouth without warning. The blowjob was wet and loving. She sucked hard, tongue swirling around the head before taking me deeper. Spit dripped down my shaft as she bobbed, humming happily around me.
“Fuck, Jeongyeon… your mouth is so good,” I slurred, hand weakly in her hair.
She pulled off for a second, stroking me fast. “You like when your wife sucks your drunk cock? Like when I spoil you after a long night?”
I nodded, groaning. She dove back down, sucking harder until I came down her throat with a shaky moan. She swallowed everything, licking me clean with a satisfied hum.
“Not done with you yet,” she whispered, climbing back up. She pulled her shirt off, revealing her full breasts. No bra. She pressed them together around my still-hard cock, the titjob slow and teasing. “Watch my tits, baby. Watch how they look wrapped around your cock.”
She moved them up and down, licking the head every time it appeared. The softness, the warmth, the way she looked at me — it was too much. I came again, painting her chest and neck with thick ropes. Jeongyeon moaned softly, rubbing my cum into her skin like lotion.
She straddled me again, guiding my cock to her soaked pussy and sinking down slowly. “Now I’m going to ride my drunk husband until he fills me up.”
Cowgirl was perfect. She rolled her hips in deep circles at first, then bounced faster, tits jiggling in my face. I sucked on them hungrily, hands on her ass as she rode me. Jeongyeon moaned louder, talking dirty in that sweet voice.
“Feel how wet I am for you? Your cock feels so good inside your wife. Cum inside me, baby. Fill me deep.”
I thrust up weakly, the alcohol making my movements sloppy but desperate. She came first, pussy clenching tight as she squirted on my cock, moaning my name. I followed right after, pumping thick ropes of cum deep inside her.
She kept riding slowly through it, grinding down to take every drop. Then she climbed off and lay beside me, pulling me into her arms.
“You did so well,” she whispered, kissing my forehead. “Even drunk, you still make me feel so full.”
I nuzzled into her chest, already drifting off. “Love you, wife.”
She stroked my hair gently. “Love you more, husband. Sleep now. I’ll take care of everything tomorrow.”
We fell asleep like that — her leg thrown over mine, my face buried between her breasts, the room smelling like sex and the faint trace of soju. Jeongyeon was my secret wife, my rock, the woman who could turn even my drunk, clumsy nights into something beautiful.
After a long night drinking with his fellow officers at a comedy bar, the secret husband of Jeongyeon comes home drunk and needy. Too intoxicated to move properly, he can only beg for his wife’s touch. Jeongyeon, amused and loving, takes full control in a gentle femdom night filled with handjobs, blowjobs, titjobs, and passionate riding until he fills her completely.
The front door opened with a clumsy rattle at 1:47 AM. I stumbled in, jacket half-off, tie loosened, the smell of soju and cheap bar snacks clinging to my clothes. The comedy bar with the guys had started as a quick drink after shift and turned into something longer. Too long. My head was spinning, legs unsteady, but the second I saw Jeongyeon waiting on the couch in one of my old police academy shirts, everything felt a little clearer.
She looked up from her phone, eyebrows raised, a mix of amusement and fondness on her face. “Look who finally decided to come home. You smell like a bar exploded on you, officer.”
I grinned stupidly, kicking my shoes off and nearly falling over. “Missed you, wife. The guys kept buying rounds. Said I had to celebrate closing that big case.”
Jeongyeon stood up and walked over, steadying me with both hands on my chest. Even tipsy, I could see the love in her eyes. We had been secretly married for almost two years now — no big wedding, no public announcement. Just us, a quiet ceremony, and stolen nights like this where she could be my wife without the world knowing.
“You’re drunk,” she said, but she was smiling. “And horny. I can feel you against my thigh already.”
I groaned, leaning into her. “Been thinking about you all night. Want you so bad, baby. Please… fuck your husband.”
She laughed softly, that low, warm sound that always made my chest feel full. “You can barely stand, and you want sex? Cute. But okay. Mommy will take care of you tonight.”
She guided me to the bedroom, one arm around my waist. I collapsed onto the bed, the room spinning a little, but my cock was rock hard in my pants. Jeongyeon climbed on top, straddling my hips, and slowly unbuttoned my shirt.
“Look at you,” she murmured, running her hands over my chest. “My big, strong police officer, too drunk to move. Guess I’ll have to do all the work.”
Her hand slid down and unzipped my pants, pulling my cock out. It sprang up, thick and throbbing. She wrapped her soft hand around it and started stroking slowly, twisting her wrist at the head.
“Already leaking for me,” she teased, thumb spreading the precum. “Such a needy husband.”
The handjob was perfect — firm, steady, her fingers knowing exactly how I liked it. I groaned, hips twitching uselessly beneath her. “Baby… please… suck it.”
She smirked, that playful femdom energy she got when I was like this. “Begging already? Cute.” She slid down my body and took me into her mouth without warning. The blowjob was wet and loving. She sucked hard, tongue swirling around the head before taking me deeper. Spit dripped down my shaft as she bobbed, humming happily around me.
“Fuck, Jeongyeon… your mouth is so good,” I slurred, hand weakly in her hair.
She pulled off for a second, stroking me fast. “You like when your wife sucks your drunk cock? Like when I spoil you after a long night?”
I nodded, groaning. She dove back down, sucking harder until I came down her throat with a shaky moan. She swallowed everything, licking me clean with a satisfied hum.
“Not done with you yet,” she whispered, climbing back up. She pulled her shirt off, revealing her full breasts. No bra. She pressed them together around my still-hard cock, the titjob slow and teasing. “Watch my tits, baby. Watch how they look wrapped around your cock.”
She moved them up and down, licking the head every time it appeared. The softness, the warmth, the way she looked at me — it was too much. I came again, painting her chest and neck with thick ropes. Jeongyeon moaned softly, rubbing my cum into her skin like lotion.
She straddled me again, guiding my cock to her soaked pussy and sinking down slowly. “Now I’m going to ride my drunk husband until he fills me up.”
Cowgirl was perfect. She rolled her hips in deep circles at first, then bounced faster, tits jiggling in my face. I sucked on them hungrily, hands on her ass as she rode me. Jeongyeon moaned louder, talking dirty in that sweet voice.
“Feel how wet I am for you? Your cock feels so good inside your wife. Cum inside me, baby. Fill me deep.”
I thrust up weakly, the alcohol making my movements sloppy but desperate. She came first, pussy clenching tight as she squirted on my cock, moaning my name. I followed right after, pumping thick ropes of cum deep inside her.
She kept riding slowly through it, grinding down to take every drop. Then she climbed off and lay beside me, pulling me into her arms.
“You did so well,” she whispered, kissing my forehead. “Even drunk, you still make me feel so full.”
I nuzzled into her chest, already drifting off. “Love you, wife.”
She stroked my hair gently. “Love you more, husband. Sleep now. I’ll take care of everything tomorrow.”
We fell asleep like that — her leg thrown over mine, my face buried between her breasts, the room smelling like sex and the faint trace of soju. Jeongyeon was my secret wife, my rock, the woman who could turn even my drunk, clumsy nights into something beautiful.
The apartment was cozy and warm, with candles glowing on the main table. Gold and white balloons floated against the ceiling, and a huge chocolate cake with sparkly sprinkles sat in the center, topped with a glowing "21." The air smelled like vanilla, soft perfume, and that genuine happiness you only get at family gatherings or with your closest friends. Leeseo was in the middle of the room, laughing while Liz and Rei tried—and mostly failed—to fit a sparkly plastic crown on her head.
"Stay still, kiddo!" Liz laughed, gently pushing the edge of the crown. "You have to look like the queen you are today!"
Leeseo burst out laughing, dodging Liz’s fingers as she moved around the room. She felt light, happy, and above all, deeply loved. Turning twenty-one was a big deal, and knowing her five unnies had planned all this for her made her feel special. She was wearing a simple, flowy white dress that hit just above her knees—something comfortable that matched her mood: relaxed and radiant.
"There!" Rei announced, stepping back to admire her work. "Look at you, Leeseo. You look gorgeous. I can barely believe you’re actually a legal adult now."
"I still feel like I'm younger," Leeseo admitted, glancing in the hallway mirror and shyly adjusting the crown. "Do you guys really think I look older?"
"You look amazing," Gaeul chimed in, stepping up to give her a warm, tight hug. "But no matter how old you get, you'll always be our baby. Though now you can actually come grab drinks with us without us having to hide you in the car."
They all burst out laughing together. Leeseo felt wrapped in that affection. There was no tension, just the comfort of a group that knew and supported each other completely. The vibe was festive; upbeat pop music played in the background—the kind that makes you want to dance without thinking and sing along while sharing old stories.
"Everyone, get over here!" yelled Yujin, who had been in charge of the drinks. "Time for toasts before the cake melts."
Leeseo walked toward the table, feeling the soft carpet under her bare feet. Yujin greeted her with a bright smile and a sweet kiss on the cheek. The group leader always had this way of making everything feel under control and safe. She handed her a glass of something bubbly—not too strong—to start the night off easy.
"To Leeseo," Yujin said, raising her glass as the others did the same. "To growing up, to maturity, and to this being the most exciting year of your life. Cheers!"
"Cheers!" they all shouted in unison, clinking their glasses with a clear, happy sound.
Leeseo took a sip, feeling the sweet tingle on her tongue. She looked at her unnies one by one: Liz’s sparkling joy, Rei’s sweet calm, Gaeul’s protective elegance, and Yujin’s inspiring strength. She felt lucky. They spent the next few minutes talking about funny stories from the past, remembering mistakes they'd made when they were younger and laughing until their stomachs hurt.
"It’s crazy how fast time flies," Leeseo commented, resting her chin on her hand as she looked at the city lights through the window. "Sometimes I feel like I was just celebrating my fifteenth."
"Well, tonight we're celebrating twenty-one with everything we've got," responded Wonyoung, who had been listening intently while eating a piece of cake. "But I think it's too quiet for a birthday party. Don't you think?"
Leeseo blinked, looking at Wonyoung. The older girl had a curious, almost mischievous look—but it was the same playful gaze she always had. Nothing felt out of place, just the natural energy of someone who wanted to hype up the party.
"She's right," Liz agreed. "We should do something more exciting. How about a game?"
"Like what?" Leeseo asked curiously, feeling like the night was just getting started and the best part was yet to come.
"Come on, everyone on the floor!" Liz exclaimed, dragging a couple of large cushions to the center of the rug. "It's way more comfortable for gaming."
Leeseo sat with them, crossing her legs and feeling the soft fabric under her palms. The group formed an intimate circle; they were so close she could feel Gaeul’s warmth on her left and Wonyoung’s floral perfume on her right. The lights in the room had dimmed, leaving only a few lamps that created a cozy, relaxed atmosphere. It felt like a sleepover between best friends: constant laughter, inside jokes, and the sound of champagne being poured into fresh glasses.
"Okay, rules are simple," Yujin explained, sitting up straight but relaxed. "Truth or Dare. No cheating. If you pick truth, you have to be one hundred percent honest. If you pick dare… well, you have to do it without complaining."
"I'll start!" Rei shouted enthusiastically, spinning an empty bottle on the rug. "Let's see… Liz! Truth or dare?"
"Truth! I don't want to risk being forced to dance in front of the mirror right now," Liz laughed, shrugging.
"Alright… What’s the most ridiculous thing you've ever done trying to impress someone you liked?" Rei asked with a wicked look.
Liz let out a groan of frustration and started telling a story about an accident with a glass of juice in high school. Everyone exploded into laughter, including Leeseo, who doubled over laughing so hard her cheeks started to burn. It was the kind of dynamic they always had: safe, fun, and full of trust.
The game continued for another hour. There were absurd dares, like doing an impression of Yujin when she's being serious or trying to balance a cushion on their heads while walking in circles. Leeseo felt completely part of it, answering innocent questions about her dreams for the future and doing funny dares that made her feel like the spoiled one of the group. However, as the glasses emptied and the alcohol started to kick in, the tone of the conversation shifted subtly.
The laughter wasn't as loud anymore; it had become lower, more intimate. The air seemed a bit heavier, though Leeseo didn't know exactly why.
"My turn," Wonyoung said, spinning the bottle with deliberate slowness. "Leeseo… birthday girl. Truth or dare?"
Leeseo felt her heart skip a beat. She looked at Wonyoung and saw that spark of curiosity in her eyes, but it still seemed like just a game.
"Uh… truth!" Leeseo answered with a smile, trying to sound confident.
Wonyoung tilted her head, studying her with a gaze that seemed to linger a second longer than usual on her lips.
"Okay…" she paused, and the silence stretched for a moment. "Now that you're twenty-one… is there something you've always wanted to try, but were too embarrassed to admit? Something… bolder."
Leeseo blinked. She felt a slight tingle on the back of her neck and her breathing became a bit shallower. The question wasn't vulgar, but it had a different weight. It wasn't about school stories; it was about personal desires.
"I… I don't know," Leeseo stammered, feeling the heat rise up her neck. "Maybe… I don't know, going somewhere where nobody knows me and pretending to be someone else."
The unnies let out soft giggles. It wasn't the "bold" answer they were probably expecting, but the atmosphere had already changed. Leeseo noticed Gaeul looking at her with a different intensity, and Yujin, from across the circle, watching her with a small, enigmatic smile.
"Too innocent," Yujin commented, her voice sounding a bit deeper than before. "I think Leeseo is still playing in the 'teenager' category."
Yujin set her glass on the floor with a sharp thud that caught everyone's attention. She leaned forward, closing the gap between herself and Leeseo.
"Don't you think it's time to change the rules?" Yujin suggested, looking at the others. "There are no kids in this room anymore. We're all adults… and I think the game should reflect that. What do you say? Switch to 'Adult Mode'?"
A sudden silence fell over the room—one of those silences that isn't empty, but full of something you can't quite name. Leeseo felt the air get thicker, almost heavy, and she became conscious of her own breathing. She looked at her unnies one by one; there were no more loud laughs or light jokes. There was a new complicity in their eyes, a silent agreement that left her outside the circle of trust and instead placed her right in the center of their attention.
"Adult Mode?" Liz repeated with a slow smile—not vulgar, but loaded. "What exactly do you mean, Yujin-unnie?"
Yujin didn't take her eyes off Leeseo. She stayed there, leaning forward, observing her like someone studying a map before starting an expedition.
"I mean that the 'truths' won't be about embarrassing stories anymore," Yujin explained in a low voice. "Now, truths will be about desires. Fantasies. About what really goes through our heads when we look at someone. And the dares… well, the dares stop being silly and become experiences."
Leeseo felt her stomach flip. Her palms started to sweat slightly against the carpet and a strange heat began to radiate from her chest to her cheeks. She didn't know if it was fear or a growing excitement, but her body was reacting before she could even process the idea.
"I think that's an excellent idea," Wonyoung chimed in, moving with feline elegance to get closer to Leeseo. "The night is young and our birthday girl has a lot to discover about herself."
"What if someone doesn't want to?" Leeseo asked in a thin voice, though her own question sounded weak, almost like an invitation.
"Oh, sweetie… nobody says no on the queen's birthday," Rei responded with a sweetness that now felt dangerously sharp. "Besides, who would want to be left out of this? It would be a waste."
The bottle spun again on the carpet. The sound of the plastic rubbing against the fibers seemed amplified in the silence of the room. Leeseo watched it spin, feeling her pulse race, drumming frantically in her ears. The bottle slowed down and stopped, pointing directly at Liz.
"Your turn, Liz," Yujin said. "Truth or dare? Adult version."
Liz looked at Leeseo and then at Yujin. A spark of mischief flashed in her eyes.
"Dare," she answered firmly.
Yujin smiled—a cold, satisfied expression.
"Alright. The dare is simple: pick someone in this circle and kiss them. But not a peck on the cheek or a quick one. A slow, real kiss… the kind of kiss you'd give if you were trying to seduce that person."
Leeseo felt the air leave her lungs. Her heart jumped violently against her ribs and her nipples hardened instantly under the fabric of her white dress. The atmosphere had completely changed; they weren't playing at being friends anymore, they were exploring a tension that had been invisible just minutes ago.
Liz didn't hesitate. She turned to Rei, took her face in both hands, and pulled her in. The kiss was slow, deliberate, and charged with an intensity that left Leeseo hypnotized. There were no vulgar sounds or rough movements, but the way their lips joined and how Liz deepened the contact made Leeseo feel an electric pulse between her legs.
When they finally pulled apart, Rei was slightly breathless and Liz had a triumphant look. All eyes returned to Leeseo, who was completely red, breathing hard with her eyes wide open.
"Wow…" Leeseo whispered, feeling small and absurdly vulnerable. "This is… very different."
"We're just warming up, honey," Gaeul commented, sliding her hand down Leeseo's arm with an excruciating slowness. "The best part happens when we stop being shy and start admitting what we really want."
Leeseo swallowed hard. The heat in her face wasn't just embarrassment anymore; it was a confused and powerful desire that was starting to cloud her judgment. She felt trapped in the center of a web, aware that the game was no longer about winning or losing, but about how much she was willing to give in.
The bottle spun again with a hissing sound, slowing down until the plastic neck pointed, without a doubt, at Leeseo. The silence that followed was dense, almost electric. Leeseo felt her lungs grow heavy and her heart hammer against her ribs. All eyes were locked on her; they weren't looks of sisterly affection anymore, but hungry, analytical looks that seemed to trace every inch of her skin under the white dress.
"Wow… the bottle is hungry today," Wonyoung commented with a malicious smile, slowly licking her lips. "Your turn, little one. Truth or dare?"
Leeseo swallowed. Her throat was dry and she felt an unsettling tingle in her lower belly. She thought about the kiss Liz and Rei had just shared and felt a shiver run down her spine. A "dare" seemed too dangerous right now, so she opted for what she thought was the safe path.
"Truth," Leeseo whispered, trying to keep her voice steady even though her hands were shaking slightly on her thighs.
Wonyoung let out a low chuckle, a vibrating sound that made Leeseo instinctively flinch. The older girl leaned in, invading her personal space and letting her perfume intoxicate Leeseo's senses.
"How boring… but okay," Wonyoung said, narrowing her eyes. "Let's be direct. No beating around the bush. When was the last time you masturbated? When was the last time you touched your pussy until you came?"
Leeseo felt the world stop. A blush surged from her neck to cover her cheeks and ears in a second. The bluntness of the question hit her like an electric shock, and she felt a sudden, wet pulse between her legs. Her nipples hardened violently against the fabric of her dress, reacting to both the shock and the forbidden excitement of being questioned like this in front of everyone.
"I… I didn't…" Leeseo stammered, but the silence that followed was an unbearable pressure.
"No lying in Adult Mode, Leeseo," Yujin reminded her in a dominant, cold tone. "Answer. Now."
Leeseo closed her eyes, feeling small and absurdly exposed. The moisture between her thighs increased, slightly dampening her underwear as the image of her own fingers tracing her skin returned to her mind.
"After… after my last music show," she finally confessed in a whisper, looking down at the floor.
A collective "oh" echoed through the circle. Wonyoung let out a soft laugh and leaned in even closer, almost brushing Leeseo's shoulder.
"After a show?" Wonyoung asked with predatory curiosity. "How interesting. And why were you so turned on after dancing on stage? What exactly got you so hot, little one?"
Leeseo felt like she was running out of air. The memory of the show came back: the blinding lights, the music thumping in her chest, and the feeling of the tight outfit against her skin. She remembered how it felt every time she moved, knowing the fabric was so thin and short that it barely covered the basics.
"The… the outfit," Leeseo whispered, clenching her fists. "It was very small. Very short."
Yujin arched an eyebrow, interested. Gaeul, beside her, slid a finger along the back of Leeseo's neck, causing a shiver that made her arch her back.
"Explain yourself," Yujin ordered. "What exactly about the outfit turned you on?"
Leeseo sighed, feeling completely vulnerable, but the sexual tension in the room was so strong she couldn't pretend to be innocent anymore.
"I knew… I knew the fans could see everything," Leeseo confessed, her voice breaking. "Every time I bent over or danced… I felt the air on my skin and I knew thousands of people were looking at my legs, my ass… I felt like I was almost naked in front of everyone. When I got back to the hotel… I couldn't stop thinking about it. I touched myself thinking about all those eyes on me."
The silence that followed was different; it wasn't just curiosity anymore, it was pure, tangible desire. Leeseo could feel the temperature in the room rising. She looked up and saw the five unnies watching her with visceral intensity, their pupils dilated and expressions filled with a lust they were no longer trying to hide.
"So our little girl is an exhibitionist," Gaeul commented in a husky voice, sliding her hand from Leeseo's neck down to her chest, brushing the curve of her breast over the dress. "You like being watched when you're in the mood for pleasure, don't you?"
Leeseo let out a short gasp. The physical contact, combined with her own confession, left her on the edge of sensory overload. She was soaked, turned on, and completely at the mercy of the women who were now looking at her like she was the most delicious dessert of the night.
Yujin stayed silent for a moment, processing Leeseo's confession. A slow, dangerous smile formed on her lips—an expression that had nothing fraternal about it. She leaned in further, just inches from Leeseo's face, forcing her to hold her gaze while the air between them vibrated with electric tension.
"So you like showing off," Yujin declared, her voice now a husky, dominant whisper. "You like feeling like the center of attention, knowing there are thousands of eyes devouring your body while you pretend nothing is happening. Is that it, Leeseo? Does the idea of being looked at like a little slut in the middle of the stage turn you on?"
Leeseo felt her heart flip. The word "slut" echoed in her head like a hammer blow, sending a jolt of pleasure and shame down her spine straight to her pussy, which was already throbbing hard. Her cheeks were burning and her pupils were dilated; she was completely hypnotized by Yujin's authority.
"I… I've never said it out loud before," Leeseo whispered, her voice breaking. "But yes… I've had fantasies like that. Imagining someone sees me… that they know exactly what I'm feeling down there while I dance… it drives me crazy thinking about it."
"I figured you were a little exhibitionist bitch," Wonyoung commented with a giggle, sliding her fingers around Leeseo's waist and squeezing firmly. "What a waste that you're wearing such a closed dress. It doesn't show anything of what actually matters."
Yujin slowly straightened up and looked toward the table where a black satin box with a red ribbon sat. With deliberate elegance, she took the gift and returned to the circle, placing it in front of Leeseo. The younger girl's heart began to race; she felt that this package contained something that would change the night forever.
"Happy birthday, Leeseo," Yujin said, pushing the box toward her. "It's a special gift. Something designed specifically for someone with your… tastes."
Leeseo took the box with trembling hands and untied the ribbon. When she opened it, the air left her lungs. It wasn't ordinary lingerie; it was a piece of black lace so transparent it was practically nonexistent. The set consisted of a tiny bra that would barely cover her nipples and a thong with thin side straps and a completely open center—crotchless. It was a garment designed to provoke, to expose everything, a piece that screamed "slut."
"No!" Leeseo exclaimed, quickly closing the box, though she was totally shocked. "I can't wear that… it's… it's too much! I'm practically naked; it doesn't cover anything."
"That's exactly why it's perfect for you," Gaeul intervened, leaning in and whispering in her ear while her hand slid dangerously down Leeseo's thigh. "You just said that being watched turns you on, right? Well, imagine how you'd feel wearing this right now, knowing we are all dying to see every inch of your pussy."
"No… it's too bold," Leeseo insisted, though her body was betraying her.
The mere idea of wearing something so vulgar made her shiver. She felt a thick moisture building up between her legs and a desperate desire to please the women surrounding her. Her nipples were so hard they were rubbing against the fabric of the white dress, screaming to be freed.
"Don't be a coward now, sweetie," Liz said, giving her a playful but firm nudge on the shoulder. "You already confessed your fantasies. Now it's time to make them real. Or is the great exhibitionist afraid of five girls?"
"We just want to see if it fits you," Wonyoung added with a predatory smile, her eyes dropping to Leeseo's chest. "I bet your tits look incredible in that lace. Go on, go to the bathroom and put it on. We want to do a detailed inspection of our gift."
Leeseo looked at the box and then at the expectant, hungry faces of her unnies. She felt cornered, but it was an intoxicating feeling. The psychological pressure, mixed with the alcohol and accumulated arousal, finally broke her resistance.
"Okay…" Leeseo whispered, slowly standing up with the box in her hands. "But don't look at me too much."
"Oh, honey," Yujin laughed, watching her walk toward the bathroom. "You have no idea how much we're going to look at you."
The sound of the bathroom door opening was slow, almost tentative. Leeseo appeared in the doorway, and the silence that fell over the room was so heavy it felt tangible. She was shaking—not a slight tremor, but a visceral shudder running through her whole body. The white dress lay in a heap on the bathroom floor, and now she was exposed, wrapped only in the transparent black lace Yujin had given her.
The garment was absurdly small. The bra was basically two strips of lace that barely held her breasts, letting her nipples—hardened by anxiety and the chill of the AC—poke through the fabric shamelessly. But the worst—or most exciting—part was the thong. The side straps dug into her hips, and the front was such a narrow strip that it left nothing to the imagination, while the back was nonexistent, leaving her pussy completely open, vulnerable and pulsing under the gaze of the five women.
"God…" Liz whispered in a husky voice. "Look at that ass."
Leeseo shrank, crossing her arms over her chest in a useless attempt to cover herself, feeling the heat rush up her neck and ignite her cheeks. Her legs shook so much she had to lean against the doorframe. She felt naked, small, and absurdly exposed; she could feel their eyes tracing every fold of her skin, evaluating the moisture already starting to glisten between her thighs.
"Don't look at me like that…" Leeseo stammered, her voice breaking. "It's too much… I feel like a slut."
"You look exactly like a slut, honey," Yujin responded with a predatory smile, slowly standing up from the sofa. "But you're our little slut. And you look fucking delicious."
Leeseo looked down, overwhelmed by the intensity of it all. The shame was suffocating, but there was something in Yujin's tone that made her pussy flip. To break the tension—or perhaps to feed the fire—Wonyoung let out a giggle and stood up elegantly.
"Don't feel so bad, sweetie. You're not the only one here who knows how to dress to provoke," Wonyoung said.
Without a hint of hesitation, Wonyoung slid her outer clothing up, revealing a set of red silk and black lace lingerie that probably cost more than the apartment's rent. It was luxurious and sophisticated, but incredibly sexy; the cut emphasized her perfect curves and left very little to mystery.
"Class is always the best weapon," Wonyoung commented, winking at Leeseo. "But not everything has to be so elegant. Right, Rei?"
Rei burst out laughing and, with a quick motion, lifted her shirt. Leeseo's eyes widened. Rei was wearing a cow-print bra that was absurdly small for her chest. The black and white lace barely covered the areolas of her large breasts, which seemed to struggle against the fabric with every heavy breath she took.
"I like things fun," Rei said, squeezing her own breasts so the fabric gave way a bit more. "And I love knowing that the contrast of black and white makes my tits look even bigger. Don't they, Leeseo?"
Leeseo felt her throat tighten. Seeing Rei so exposed, with her nipples almost jumping out of that ridiculous bra, made her own arousal skyrocket. It wasn't just shame anymore; it was an erotic solidarity that left her breathless.
Yujin, seeing the younger girl's reaction, decided to deliver the final blow. She stood up and, in one fluid motion, dropped her pants, leaving her in only her underwear. She was wearing a black thong so minimal it was basically a G-string; it covered absolutely nothing in the front or back, letting the leader's pale, firm skin glow under the living room lights.
"I prefer efficiency," Yujin declared, turning around to show the string disappearing between her cheeks. "Less fabric means more pleasure."
Leeseo was hypnotized. She looked at her unnies and felt like the normal world had disappeared; they were now in a space where clothes were just a suggestion and desire was the only law. Gaeul and Liz, who were still wearing more conventional underwear under their clothes, stepped closer to her.
"We're being more discreet today," Liz commented, brushing Leeseo's bare back with her fingers, "but don't be fooled. I've done private lives where I wear nothing but a collar… I love knowing there are men paying thousands of dollars just to watch me touch my pussy on camera."
Leeseo gasped. She couldn't believe what she was hearing. Liz—sweet Liz—was a professional exhibitionist.
"And I," Gaeul added in a husky voice, leaning into Leeseo's ear while her hand slid down the younger girl's inner thigh, "prefer things a bit more… intense. I like ropes, harnesses, and feeling like someone has total control over my body. Pain and pleasure are two sides of the same coin, sweetie."
Leeseo felt her legs give way. She was surrounded by women who didn't just accept their dark side—they celebrated it. The shame vanished, replaced by a thick, potent adrenaline. She felt small, yes, but also desired and part of something forbidden.
"So…" Leeseo whispered, looking at the black lace covering her own body, "are we all equally crazy?"
"We're not crazy, honey," Yujin responded, grabbing Leeseo by the waist and pulling her against her bare body. "We just know exactly what we want. And now that you're dressed like a slut… it's time to start the real training."
Yujin didn't let go of Leeseo's waist; instead, she pulled her into a soft embrace, letting the younger girl feel the heat of her skin. The atmosphere in the room was no longer tense with pressure, but vibrating with an electric complicity. They were all there, exposed and beautiful, creating a circle of trust where shame had transformed into shared curiosity.
"Look at us, Leeseo," Yujin whispered in her ear, her voice sweet but heavy with intent. "Look at your unnies. There are no secrets between us, right?"
Leeseo looked up, feeling her heart beat hard, but not from fear. She saw Rei's affectionate gaze, Wonyoung's playful wink, and the protective smiles of Gaeul and Liz. She felt accepted, wanted, and above all, part of something very special.
"You've been our spoiled little one for a long time," Yujin continued, pulling back slightly to look her in the eyes with seductive tenderness. "We've taken care of you, we've pampered you… but now that you're twenty-one, we think there's a part of you that needs to wake up. That exhibitionist spark you just confessed to… it's something beautiful, Leeseo. And we don't want you to explore it alone."
Leeseo blinked, feeling a warm tingle in her chest. The way Yujin spoke wasn't an order; it was an enveloping proposal.
"What do you mean, unnie?" Leeseo asked in a whisper, while she felt the moisture between her thighs pulsing softly.
Yujin took her hands gently, interlocking their fingers.
"We want to offer you something," Yujin explained with a bright smile. "We want to be your teachers. Not in the boring sense of the word, but in the sense of pleasure. We want to teach you all the tricks we know, the secrets we've discovered about our own bodies and how to use them to drive anyone crazy. We want to turn you into the sexiest, most confident version of yourself."
"You guys… want to teach me that?" Leeseo asked, overwhelmed by her friends' erotic generosity.
"Of course we do, honey," Wonyoung chimed in, leaning in to give her a sweet kiss on the cheek. "Imagine how fun it will be. We can share clothes, tips, games… we'll be like a secret team. We want you to be our favorite student, to learn how to enjoy every look and every touch without fear."
"It would be like a project," Gaeul added with a giggle, wrapping her arms around Leeseo from behind. " 'Project Leeseo.' We'll provide the experience, and you provide the willingness to learn. We just want you to feel powerful in your own skin, little one."
Leeseo felt a wave of heat rush through her entire body. The idea of being molded by them, of receiving their lessons in seduction and pleasure under the cover of their friendship, excited her more than anything else. She felt chosen, special. She was no longer just "the baby"; she was someone they wanted to elevate to the level of a seductive woman.
"And I… what would I have to do?" Leeseo asked, looking at Yujin with a mix of shyness and desire.
Yujin smiled—an expression full of complicity and affection—as she stroked Leeseo's cheek with her thumb.
"You just have to trust us and let yourself go," Yujin responded. "You just have to be willing to learn and enjoy everything we have prepared for you. Would you like to accept our invitation, Leeseo? Do you want to be our student?"
Leeseo looked at the black lace she was wearing, feeling more confident than ever because she knew she had the support of the five women she admired most. She felt empowered by their gazes and, with a small but determined smile, she nodded.
"Yes… I'd love to," Leeseo whispered. "Please… teach me everything."
"Good girl," Yujin celebrated, giving her a tender kiss on the forehead before letting go of her gently. "Then it's a deal. But for now, go put your dress back on and get some rest. Tomorrow we start your first lesson, and believe me, sweetie… it's going to be the best part of your birthday."
This will be my first premium series, which means the following episodes will be exclusive to KoFi. Thank you very much for your support.
The library had closed an hour ago, but the old classroom building stayed open late for students pulling all-nighters. Chaewon and I were the only ones left in room 312, notes scattered across the desks, empty coffee cups everywhere. She was in her usual school uniform — white blouse hugging her slim figure, pleated skirt riding up her thighs whenever she crossed her legs. Her short hair framed her face perfectly, and those sharp, pretty eyes kept glancing at me instead of the textbook.
“You’re not focusing either,” she said with a small laugh, poking my arm. “We’ve been here three hours and we’ve barely covered half the material.”
I rubbed the back of my neck. “Hard to focus when you keep smiling like that.”
Chaewon’s cheeks turned pink, but she didn’t look away. We’d been dancing around this for weeks — sitting together in class, sharing notes, walking to the station after school. There was always this warm, fluffy tension between us. Tonight it felt thicker.
She stood up and walked over to my desk, leaning against it. “Maybe we need a break.” Her voice was softer now. She glanced at the door — locked, lights dimmed low. The hallway outside was silent.
Before I could reply, she leaned down and kissed me. It started sweet, almost shy, her lips soft and warm. I pulled her closer, hands on her waist, and the kiss deepened. She tasted like the strawberry lip balm she always wore. When we broke apart, both of us breathing heavier, she whispered, “I’ve wanted to do that for so long.”
“Me too,” I admitted, heart racing. “You’re more than just my classmate, Chaewon.”
She smiled that bright, genuine smile and climbed onto my lap, straddling me right there in the desk chair. Her skirt bunched up around her hips as she kissed me again, hungrier this time. My hands slid under her blouse, feeling smooth skin and the lace of her bra. She rocked gently against me, already feeling how hard I was getting.
“Someone might come,” I murmured against her neck, but I didn’t stop kissing her.
“That’s what makes it exciting,” she replied, biting her lip. “Be quick… but good.”
Chaewon slid off my lap and knelt between my legs. She looked up at me with those pretty eyes as she unzipped my pants and pulled my cock out. It was already throbbing. She wrapped her small hand around it, stroking slowly at first.
“You’re big,” she whispered, almost shy. Then she leaned in and took me into her mouth. The blowjob was warm and eager. She started with soft licks along the shaft, then wrapped her lips around the head and sucked gently. Her tongue swirled as she bobbed deeper, taking more each time. Saliva coated my length, dripping down as she worked me faster, one hand stroking the base.
“Fuck, Chaewon… that feels amazing,” I groaned quietly, fingers in her soft hair. She hummed around me, the vibration sending sparks up my spine. She tried to take me all the way, gagging a little but pushing through, eyes watering but determined. It was messy and perfect — the kind of secret classroom fantasy I’d had about her more than once.
She pulled off with a wet pop, stroking me fast with her hand while catching her breath. “I want you inside me now.”
I helped her up and bent her over the teacher’s desk at the front of the room. The risk of someone walking by made everything hotter. I flipped her skirt up and pulled her panties to the side. She was soaked. I rubbed my cock against her slick folds before pushing in slowly.
Chaewon moaned softly, gripping the edge of the desk. “Yes… just like that.” I started thrusting, building a steady rhythm. Doggy in the classroom felt filthy and right. Her tight pussy squeezed around me with every stroke. I held her hips, pulling her back onto me harder. The sound of skin slapping echoed quietly in the empty room.
“Harder,” she whispered, pushing back against me. I obliged, pounding deeper. One hand reached around to rub her clit. Chaewon’s moans grew louder despite her trying to stay quiet. Her body tensed, and she came hard — pussy clenching, a warm squirt coating my cock and dripping down her thighs onto the floor.
I kept fucking her through it, leaning over her back to kiss her neck. “You feel so good… I want to fill you up.”
“Cum inside,” she gasped. “Breed me. I want it.”
The breeding kink hit different coming from her sweet voice. I thrust faster, chasing my release, and buried myself deep as I came. Thick ropes of cum flooded her pussy. Chaewon shivered, another small squirt mixing with my load.
We stayed like that for a moment, catching our breath. I pulled out slowly, watching some cum leak down her leg. She turned around, kissed me softly, and smiled. “That was crazy… but I loved it.”
We moved to one of the student desks for the next round. Chaewon pushed me down into the chair and straddled me again — cowgirl this time. She sank down onto my cock, still slick with our mixed juices, taking every inch until her ass rested on my thighs.
“Oh god… so deep,” she moaned, starting to ride me. Her hands braced on my shoulders as she bounced. I lifted her blouse and bra, sucking on her perky breasts while she moved. The fluffy connection was still there — we kept kissing between moans, foreheads touching, eyes locked.
She rode faster, tits bouncing right in front of my face. I gripped her ass, helping her move. “You’re perfect, Chaewon. My favorite classmate.”
She laughed breathlessly, grinding her clit against me. “Yours… only yours.” Another orgasm hit her. She squirted again, soaking my lap and the chair. Her walls fluttered around me, milking my cock.
I was close again. “Gonna cum…”
“Inside. Breed your classmate’s pussy,” she whispered hotly, riding me through it. I filled her with a second creampie, pumping deep as she trembled on top of me.
After a short, fluffy break where we cuddled on the floor behind the desks, kissing softly and whispering how long we’d liked each other, the heat built back up. Chaewon turned around, facing away from me, and lowered herself onto my cock in reverse cowgirl. The view was insane — her skirt flipped up, ass bouncing as she rode me.
She braced her hands on my knees and moved faster, slamming down hard. I reached around to rub her clit and squeeze her breasts. The risk of getting caught made us both desperate. Her moans were harder to control now.
“Fill me again,” she begged. “I want your cum dripping out of me when we leave.”
I thrust up into her, matching her pace. Chaewon came hard in this position too, squirting onto the floor. I couldn’t hold back and unloaded another thick creampie deep inside her. So much cum that it pushed out around my cock with every bounce.
We stayed connected for a while after, her leaning back against my chest. I wrapped my arms around her, kissing her shoulder. The fluffy side returned stronger. “This wasn’t just sex for me,” I said quietly. “I really like you, Chaewon. A lot.”
She turned her head and kissed me softly. “I like you too. More than a classmate. We’ll figure out how to make this work… secretly at first.”
We cleaned up as best we could, but her panties were ruined and cum still leaked down her thighs under the skirt. We gathered our notes, laughing quietly at how wrecked the classroom looked. Before leaving, she pulled me in for one last deep kiss by the door.
“Study session tomorrow?” she asked with a playful grin.
“Definitely,” I replied, holding her hand a second longer than necessary.
Walking out into the quiet hallway, the thrill of what we’d done mixed with the warm, fluffy feeling of something real starting. Chaewon glanced back at me, cheeks still flushed, and smiled. My classmate had just become so much more.
We slipped out of the building together, hearts racing, already planning the next risky meeting between classes. The secret felt exciting. The connection felt right.
The End.
(Hope you enjoyed the mix of school risk, fluff, and intense breeding moments. - Jaewon)
The sealed envelope from the FBIA Decisions Bureau arrived at 7:10 AM. Director Park’s elegant script detailed the assignment: "Myoui Mina (TWICE) – Level 3 Comprehensive Pre-Comeback Vitality Check. Focus on overall flexibility, oral endurance, and full-body recovery following extended hiatus recovery and group activities. Senior Inspector Park Gunwoo assigned. Agent Kang and Agent Lee to assist. Special oral response protocol authorized."
Senior Inspector Park Gunwoo reviewed the file in the preparation room. Mina’s graceful presence and technical dance style required meticulous verification. The FBIA wing remained quiet and controlled, perfect for the day’s thorough session.
Agent Kang entered, precise as always. “Equipment ready, Inspector. Warming oils, lubricants, and all tools sterilized.”
Agent Lee followed. “Miss Mina has arrived. She’s been briefed on the full protocol including the special oral method. She appears calm and prepared.”
Park Gunwoo nodded. “Reconfirm consent repeatedly. Escort her in.”
Mina entered the suite with her signature elegant poise. The TWICE member’s long dark hair framed her delicate, beautiful features. She clutched the white robe, offering a soft bow.
“Inspector Park Gunwoo, Agent Kang, Agent Lee,” she greeted gently. “I’m ready for the vitality check. I want to make sure my body is fully recovered.”
Park Gunwoo gave a reassuring smile. “Your well-being comes first, Mina. The Bureau requires a complete Level 3 protocol with a special oral endurance test. Full sensory mapping with fingers and tongue across every part. Consent is yours at every step. Do you agree to the full protocol?”
Mina nodded. “I consent to everything.”
“Understood. Remove the robe and lie face up.”
She let the robe fall, revealing her elegant, slender-yet-curved body: gracefully full breasts with soft pink nipples, a slim waist, gently flared hips, long toned legs, a smooth shaved mound, and delicate feet. Her skin was porcelain-smooth under the warm lights.
Park Gunwoo performed the visual assessment while Agent Lee documented. “Excellent recovery tone. Minor residual stiffness in hips and shoulders.”
He began palpation at her neck and shoulders, fingers working deeply. Agent Kang supported her. Park Gunwoo’s tongue traced her collarbones and both armpits with slow, thorough licks, noting her subtle shivers. He moved to her breasts, cupping and kneading them before licking and sucking the sensitive nipples. Mina’s breathing grew heavier.
After thorough torso and back checks (with Agent Kang assisting turns and Agent Lee applying oil), they reached the lower body. Park Gunwoo parted her legs, Agent Kang holding one open. His fingers spread her folds, stroking every detail while his tongue delivered long, dedicated licks. Mina touched herself as instructed, building to a powerful orgasm where she squirted across his tongue in warm waves. He guided her through it gently.
After recovery, the special oral protocol began.
“Special oral endurance test now,” Park Gunwoo announced professionally. “This evaluates throat control and fluid response, relevant to performance demands. You will perform oral stimulation on me while I continue body mapping. Consent confirmed?”
Mina’s cheeks flushed but she nodded. “I consent.”
With Agent Kang supporting her upper body and Agent Lee providing lubrication, Mina knelt gracefully on the table edge. Her soft lips wrapped around Park Gunwoo’s length. She began slowly, tongue swirling, taking him deeper with focused dedication. Her head bobbed with elegant rhythm, hands stroking the base as she sucked and licked. Park Gunwoo continued mapping her body — licking her breasts, neck, and shoulders while she worked.
Her technique was thorough and attentive, humming softly around him. The wet sounds filled the room. After several minutes of intense oral stimulation, Park Gunwoo reached his limit.
“Release incoming,” he warned.
Mina kept him in her mouth as he came, thick warm spurts filling her mouth. She swallowed carefully, a small amount dripping from her lips. Park Gunwoo used his fingers to spread the remainder across her lips and chin, checking skin response.
The session continued with posterior checks — ass kneading, deep cleft licking, thighs, behind knees, and full foot worship with toe sucking and sole licking.
Nearly three hours had passed when the main protocol concluded. Mina sat up, still flushed. As Park Gunwoo helped her with the robe, she hesitated, voice soft and trembling with need.
“Inspector Park Gunwoo… everything felt so intense. I feel so sensitive and empty now. Can we… can you fuck me? Please? Just once. I need it. I’m begging you.”
Park Gunwoo froze, expression serious. “Mina, that violates core FBIA protocol. No penetrative sex is permitted.”
Mina’s eyes were pleading, voice desperate. “Please… I’ve never asked for anything like this. Just this once. I need to feel you inside me. I’m begging.”
Park Gunwoo exhaled slowly, then reached for the secure line. “I will call Director Park for authorization. This cannot be on record if approved.”
The Director answered promptly. Park Gunwoo explained the situation briefly and professionally. After a long pause, Director Park’s voice came through clearly: “One-time off-record authorization granted for this session only. Not documented. Ensure absolute discretion. Complete the protocol as needed.”
Park Gunwoo ended the call and looked at Mina. “Permission granted off-record. This is a violation of standard rules, but authorized this once. Full consent?”
Mina nodded eagerly. “Yes. Please.”
Agent Kang and Agent Lee stepped back to the observation area for privacy. Park Gunwoo laid Mina back on the table. He positioned himself between her legs, rubbing his length along her soaked folds before slowly pushing inside. Mina moaned loudly as he filled her completely. He began thrusting steadily, deep and controlled, while his hands and mouth continued worshipping her breasts and neck.
The sensation was intense after hours of teasing. Mina wrapped her legs around him, begging softly between moans. Park Gunwoo fucked her thoroughly — strong, deep strokes that hit every sensitive spot until she came hard around him, squirting again. He followed soon after, pulling out to release across her stomach and breasts.
They remained still for a moment, breathing heavily. Park Gunwoo cleaned her gently and helped her dress.
“This never happened on record,” he reminded her quietly. “For your safety and the Bureau’s.”
Mina smiled softly, satisfied. “I understand. Thank you… for everything.”
She left the suite. Park Gunwoo cleaned up, the weight of the off-record violation lingering. Agent Kang and Agent Lee returned without comment, maintaining professional silence.
The Bureau’s work continued, but some boundaries, once crossed, changed the dynamic forever.
