STMS @satzumosupremacy - Tumblr Blog

Elite Bodyguard Series: Pt.15

Truth Or Dare

Male reader x Nayeon

Tags: Smut

8.6k words

The day has already begun. The studio hums with that particular kind of chaos that looks effortless only from far away. Lights warm the air, stylists drift around Nayeon like a flock of birds, and you stand at the edge of it all with your eyes set on her.

Then your attention drifts outward. You count the staff without seeming to, cataloging faces you’ve seen before and a few you haven’t. You look relaxed, almost bored, but you catch everything. Nayeon’s gaze flicks toward you between takes and studies the slight tilt of your head. She tries to guess who you’re tracking, what you’re thinking, what’s hidden behind the sunglasses you refuse to take off.

“Oppa,” she calls for you as the stylists finishes what they were doing before taking a step back to give you and Nayeon some space.

You calmly walk up to her seated on the chair. “Yes, Nayeon?”

“You can take off your sunglasses now, you know? We’re inside.”

“I have it on for a reason.”

“Oh,” she says under her breath, lips folding tight as her eyes stay on you. Nayeon tries to keep her composure, but the laugh breaks through anyways. You don’t quite understand the reason, only the way the air shifts, how nearby conversations thin out as a few curious glances drift your way from anyone nearby.

“What are you laughing about?” you ask, brows pulling together slightly.

“Nothing, it’s just kind of funny that you’re wearing sunglasses inside.”

You didn’t find it funny enough to be something worth laughing about, but she did for whatever reason.

“Okay?”

“Sorry,” she says, the laughter fading into something lighter as you meet her gaze through your sunglasses. “You look bored though. I just wanted some small talk.”

“Okay?” you repeat, a touch flatter the second time. You can be blunt on the job, and it isn’t like Nayeon is unfamiliar with that. “Is that all you wanted to talk about?”

“No,” she replies. The pause that follows stretches just long enough to be felt, then she laughs again, openly this time, at your expense, while the stylists return and begin working through her hair in front of you.

“What are you laughing about?” the stylist asked Nayeon.

“Oh, don’t you think Oppa’s a little quiet today?”

The stylist looks over to your unfazed figure leaning against the wall, then back to Nayeon. “A little. But it’s nothing new. Why are you trying to annoy him? Just leave him be.”

“Exactly,” you murmur.

“Exactly,” Nayeon copies, turning your tone into a mockery of itself before she laughs again.

This is where impulse slips past your restraint. The instant she mocks you, a quiet plan starts forming at the back of your mind.

“Sorry. May I have a word with Nayeon in private?” you ask the stylist. Your voice stays low, even, edged with the kind of authority you only use when it matters. The request alone is enough to shift the air. You almost never ask for privacy. When you do, it is never casual, but this time, you intend to play with the moment a little.

“Uh, yeah, sure,” the stylist says calmly, setting the brush on the dresser before stepping away.

“What’s wrong, Oppa?” Nayeon says like she’s in trouble.

“Come over tonight,” you quietly say. And neither was it a question.

“For?”

You have something up your sleeve that she can’t say no to. “Let’s drink together. Just you and me. Jihyo bought me an expensive wine bottle. I want you to try it out.”

What Nayeon doesn’t know is, you and Jihyo finished the wine already. You’re just setting the bait for her to bite.

“Is it good?” she ask.

“It’s smooth. I think you’ll like it.”

Nayeon thinks it over, “Hmm, okay, I could go for some wine.”

She easily gave in. You expected that. Nothing new.

She studies you for a moment, then asks, “But what do you plan on doing after?” There’s an edge beneath the question, the sense that she thinks she already knows the answer. You aren't exactly hiding that you want to sleep with her, and maybe she senses the honesty in it, which unsettles her more than any lie could. The sunglasses stay on, and she cannot read the look in your eyes. That absence becomes its own kind of presence. The longer she keeps talking, the more her words knot together, until even she seems to lose the thread of what she was trying to ask.

“Whatever’s on your mind, Nayeon.”

“Huh?” she laughs.

You wonder, briefly, if she’ll still be laughing later, if that brightness will soften into something quieter once she’s alone with you. Whether the lights are on or off hardly matters. The thought of her moans comes easily uninvited in your mind. You’ve always wondered what she’s like in bed. Yet, you stand there with your eyes on her, calm, professional, your face arranged in that careful neutrality as if the idea has never crossed your mind before.

You crave her. So bad.

“If you want to go home after, I won’t stop you. I’m not expecting anything,” you say, calmly.

It is a quiet gamble. You pretend to step back just enough to make the space noticeable. By giving her room to leave, you make staying feel like something she chooses for herself. You remove the pressure and let restraint do the persuading.

Or in simplicity, it’s reverse psychology that you didn’t really intended, but if it works, it works.

She thinks quietly, and the longer she does, the heavier her thoughts become. Nayeon knows you are not asking her to stay, not really, yet the space you leave feels intentional, almost persuasive in its restraint. That absence begins to pull at her.

“I guess I’ll stay a little longer,” she promises. “Probably sober up if we do drink more than intended. You’ll have to take me home anyways.”

“Yeah, I can drop you off,” you say, cool and even, turning away to signal the stylist back to their work, already certain you won’t need to insist on anything else. There’s still hope that she’ll decide to stay the night.

“Oppa, can you stay near?” she says, assuming that you’ll walk away and go back to where you positioned yourself.

“Okay. Understood.”

“Alright!” the director speaks up to get everyone’s attention, “Let’s be ready in five minutes to take the final pictures and wrap it up for today!”

——

As the photoshoot drifts toward its end, your attention settles on Nayeon from behind the dark cover of your sunglasses. You let yourself look at Nayeon longer than you should. It wasn’t why you put them on, but they serve their purpose well enough. No one can track your eyes. Her legs are long and bare, and the thought of feeling those gorgeous thighs of hers refuses to leave your mind.

You imagine what Nayeon has to offer. Her hair is immaculate, styled within an inch of perfection, and you linger on the moment it would come undone, fingers in it, strands clinging to her face by the time the night settles in. Beneath your restraint, the thought is simple and almost crude in its honesty. She’s pretty. Soft at the edges, disarming, yet warm in a way that pulls at you, innocent enough to make you wonder how much would it take to ruin that innocent vibe. It’s impossible not to picture the side of her no one else gets to see.

Even that smile makes you want to be gentle, though your mind is still full of the reckless thoughts. You want to trace the line of her jaw gently, linger on her lips without touching them, let her feel seen rather than used. And yet, every part of you still aches with the selfish desire you can’t fully deny, the urge to pull her close and let the heat of the moment take over. It’s a careful balancing act, watching her, wanting her, wanting to be more than what your instincts are screaming for. And somehow letting both of you to coexist in your bed, in your arms, in your very own tempo.

“Sir,” Nayeon’s manager calls out while you’re in thought.

“Hmm?” you say, turning your head to the right as the manager walks up to you.

“Nayeon said she’s coming with you after this, right?”

“Yeah, we plan on drinking. And don’t worry, she won’t drink much.”

“I trust you enough,” the manager chuckles. “Uh, since the photoshoot is basically almost over, you can take her home after she’s done changing. There’s nothing much to take care of after.”

You give her manager a nod, “Understood.”

—

Driving home, Nayeon falls asleep in the passenger seat with her playlist still running low through the speakers. You turn the volume down a notch so it doesn’t wake her. At a red light, you glance over. Her head is tilted toward the window, completely knocked out. The city noise fades as you turn onto quieter streets lined with villas and office buildings. The engine hums steady under your hands. Trees blur past. Stone walls and black gates slide by in the headlights. You slow down until reaching the stop sign, signal, and turn into your neighborhood.

“Nayeon,” you say quietly as you approach the gate, slowing the car and pressing the button to open it. You glance over, but she’s still sound asleep The gate slides open, and you turn into the driveway, opening the garage and easing the car inside before shifting it into park. “Nayeon,” you say again, a little louder this time. She awakes, brushing her hair from the side of her face as she looks around, disoriented for a moment before it settles back into her.

“Oh,” she murmurs tiredly and grabs the door handle to open. “That was quick.”

You let out a quiet sigh and turn the engine off. She steps out first, the door shutting with a muted thud. When you get out and lock the car, she’s already stretching, arms lifted overhead, spine arching slightly like she’s trying to shake the sleep from her body. You walk up to the door as she lowers her arms.

“Aren’t you tired, Oppa?”

“Somewhat,” you say, glancing at her. You open the door and step inside, and she follows close behind. “I’ll go change,” you add, slipping off your shoes. “Do you want me to put your backpack in my room?”

“Yeah, thanks,” she says, slipping the strap from her shoulder and lowering the backpack into your hands.

While you head into your bedroom to change, Nayeon wanders down the short hallway and lays on the couch, letting out a tired groan as she pulls her phone from her pocket. The soft cushions sink beneath her. The house is quiet, almost hollow. It’s beautiful in the way large spaces often are, high ceilings, wide windows, everything polished and luxurious, yet the silence lingers. Every empty corner seems to carry more absence than peace.

And then the question slips in, like a pin through the fabric of her thoughts: “How lonely does he feel living here by himself?”

She scrolls aimlessly, the blue light casting soft shadows across her face, but her attention isn’t on the phone. It drifts to the faint sounds from your bedroom, the quiet thud of something set on the dresser, your muffled footsteps, and she catches herself listening a little too closely in the stillness.

Nayeon gets up to keep her mind busy and walks to the small wine room. Cooler air greets her as she opens the door, and she steps inside, letting her eyes drift slowly across the rows of bottles. On the left, the stronger spirits are neatly arranged—whiskey, brandy, a few aged rums, and bottles of vodka with their labels catching the soft glow from above. While Nayeon looks around, you step out of the bathroom, cold water still lingering on your face, dressed in fresh, comfortable clothes. Noticing the living room is empty, you head towards where she would most likely be.

“Oppa,” she says, catching the sound of your footsteps. “I’m surprised you’re taking care of the bottles we bring over. You even bought a small refrigerator. Hmm, since a few of these are mine, do you want me to pay you monthly for keeping them here?”

“No,” you laugh, thinking it’s actually outrageous. “But you could pay me a different way.”

She turns to you with a confused expression, “Hmm? Like what?”

You step towards her, and she backs up against the wall to be caught in the corner. “I want your time, Nayeon.”

“For?” she asks again, her voice catching at how close you are. Nayeon tries everything she can think of to not fall into your little games of seduction.

You think she’s playing dumb. You’re not demanding sex like it’s a transaction, but if this is about building tension, the small wine room makes it feel real. You stare at her eyes, drift down to her lips, then back up with a slow smile. “You looked pretty in that pink outfit today at the shoot. That color suits you.”

Nayeon knows what you’re doing. She knew this would happen the moment she stepped inside your house. And with that look in your eyes, it’s almost impossible not to fall for it. She tells herself to look away, but her eyes won’t obey. She gulps quietly with the low hum of the small refrigerator filling the silence. So you lean in, not rushing, but slowly until the space between you shrink just enough to feel the tension. You want to test the edges of this moment, to see how far it can stretch before it breaks.

Will she push you away, or let herself give in? You don’t care. Your ambition takes over. You’ll get what you want.

Nayeon answers by not pushing you away. She turns slightly to the side, sliding her hand between you and resting it on your chest, stopping you.

“Nayeon,” you murmur, lowering your voice, letting the scent of her hair draw you in. “Am I asking too much? When will it be you and me? Can it be us two?”

She lets out a quiet, shaky breath, barely louder than the hum of the wine room’s cooling system. She hates how effortlessly you unravel her, hates the way her fingers curl tighter against the warmth of your chest, how her lips part on another unsteady exhale. She should push you away, laugh it off, take back control.

But feeling the press of your muscles beneath her hand and the subtle beat of your heart, a thought creeps in—letting you have her might not be so bad after all.

“You’re being awfully quiet, Nayeon,” you point out, volunteering yourself off of her like what you did meant nothing with a smirk. “It’s not like you, but it’s cute.”

She brushes the side of her hair back, tucking loose strands behind her ear in that quick, self-conscious gesture people make when caught in an embarrassing moment. Almost shy, almost flustered, and entirely telling while she glances at you grabbing a wine bottle that was more than halfway full.

“It’s this one,” you say, lying to her face about the wine bottle being the one Jihyo brought over when both of you already finished it. The one in your hand is actually one from Tzuyu.

“Does she let us drink it?” Nayeon quietly ask.

You glace at Nayeon. Her face is glowing. Her lips are getting dry in a way where you wouldn’t mind moistening them with your very own. “Yeah. What kind of question is that?”

Nayeon shyly laughs it off and tries to change the topic. “How’s uh… bodyguard Park? I heard she got hurt on the job like a month ago.”

“If it’s been a month, why care now?” you say with a teasing smile. Messing with her is something you can’t resist. “She’s doing fine. Should be back within the next two months.”

“Oh, that’s good. Can I… uh, shower before we… uh, h-have a drink?”

“Take the one connected to my bedroom.”

Nayeon quickly walks out of the wine room without a word and presses the palm of her hand to her cheek, trying to feel the heat without letting you see how embarrassed she made herself. She walks to your bedroom, opens the door, and steps inside as you take your time making your way to her after setting the wine down on the coffee table in the living room.

“I got extra towels on the rack, Nayeon,” you say as she reaches for the small backpack you left on the bed. “Use whatever you need. It’s all yours. I’ll take care of the rest.”

“Okay, thanks,” she says, awkwardly lingering at the bathroom door, lips pressed together. You can see how much shyer she’s gotten after the wine room. You already have a good idea of how to push her buttons. She shouldn’t be embarrassed, and maybe, just maybe, you went a little overboard.

“I’ll grab my things and head upstairs to the other shower after you close the door,” you say. Then, deliberately tipping the tension further, you add a slow smile. “Oh, and um, don’t open the top drawer unless you want to see for yourself. I have condoms in there.”

Little did Nayeon want to admit it to herself, but she half-expected you to ask to join her in the shower. Not that she would let you, yet a part of her couldn’t help running through all the “what if” scenarios.

“Uh, O-Okay,” she lets out a quick chuckle as you walk away after. Nayeon pauses before reaching the door handle of your bathroom and looks at your bed.

Her mind wanders, picturing you and Sana on that same bed, at times when she wouldn’t answer texts or pick up calls. Then her gaze shifts to the dresser, and she recalls Tzuyu’s words about you making out with her on that very dresser.

“What am I thinking?” she murmurs, forcing herself to snap out of it and step inside the bathroom.

The lights flicks on, and her eyes land on a bottle of facial moisturizer on the countertop that surely belongs to Jihyo. It’s the same brand, same size, same color.

“They showered together too,” she whispers, and to stop herself from spiraling over what else might have happened with you and Jihyo in this bathroom. Nayeon grabs a fresh towel and unrolls it to hang on the towel holder.

“Pull yourself together,” Nayeon murmurs under her breath. She lifts her gaze to the mirror, watching herself take off her shirt and reach back to unhook her bra as the straps glide down her shoulders to reveal the curves of her breast.

——

You come back down the stairs after your shower. The bathroom door is closed and the bedroom door stands wide open. Nayeon is inside, blow-drying her hair, and you mind your own business by passing through into the kitchen to grab the wine glasses. You’ll give her all the time she needs and you smirk, knowing exactly how much you’re in her head, whether intentionally or not. Back in the living room, you set the glasses on the coffee table and settle in, waiting for her to finish drying her hair.

Not long after, she walks out to you patiently sitting on the couch, in silence, with a video playing on your phone. “Oppa, did Jihyo forget her moisturizer that’s in your bathroom? I’m guessing it’s hers since she was here a few days ago.”

“No. She wanted to leave it here,” you reply as Nayeon sits one seat cushion away from you.

“What did you two do?”

Before you answer Nayeon, you place your phone down on the table to give your attention to her. “Hmm, we talked. She drove straight here after dance practice and stayed the night."

“Ah,” Nayeon nods, knowing there was more than talking. It was obvious enough that Jihyo didn’t come over just to talk. But realizing that you kept your words well reserved, Nayeon wouldn’t bother asking more.

“Jihyo told me that Sana kept messing up the choreography in the same spot.”

“Yeah. That’s true. You know how Sana is.”

You see how Nayeon sits at a glance: back pressed against the couch, right arm draped over the armrest, eyes flicking between you and somewhere else. But then, her legs, they’re together, hopefully not for long that is.

“Do you want to pour, Nayeon?”

“Oh, yeah,” she chuckles and leans forward to grab the bottle and wine glasses. After a quick pull of the cork, she pours the wine in your glass first, then hers after. “Do you usually drink alone?”

And instead of answering her with a ‘no’, you rather tease Nayeon, just because. “Why? Do you need a drinking buddy? You have to steal me away from Jihyo.”

Nayeon lets out a laugh and rolls her eyes at what she just heard without knowing what to say. You stare at her as she hands you your glass of wine and makes a small toast with the glasses gently clanking.

“Cheers,” you smile.

“Cheers, Oppa,” she follows. In her mind, all Nayeon can think is, “Gosh, he can’t stop looking at me, and he’s not even trying to hide it.”

Nayeon turns to the side, towards the black screen TV and takes a sip of the wine, gently swirling it in her mouth like a wine connoisseur. She turns back to you and licks her lips right after swallowing the wine.

“What do you think of it?” you ask, taking a sip without even wanting to be fancy as her.

“I think it’s really balanced. I get that smoky aroma right away, then this smooth black cherry flavor comes through. It’s rich but not heavy. Mina would definitely love this.”

You quietly nod, noting what she thinks of the wine. “But that’s interesting, I never saw Mina as a wine type of person.”

“It depends on her mood,” Nayeon chuckles and takes another sip. You follow her with a quick sip of your own too. “Hmm, weren’t you with Mina and Momo yesterday?”

“Yeah. They went shopping together,” you inform her, even if she knew.

“Let me guess, Momo spent way too much? She sent us a photo of her bags that you were carrying.”

“She definitely spent way more than Mina,” you say, glancing out the window before looking back at Nayeon. She looks away the moment you catch her, as if she was checking you out with her lip on the rim of her wine glass.

“Why does he have to be wearing gray shorts and black short sleeves?” Nayeon thinks to herself and gulps down another sip of wine, away from you.

You’re sure she’s thinking about something every time she takes a sip. You know that pattern—how she always turns away just to drink, how often she sips, the careful timing. Your glass is already halfway empty while hers has only one gulp left. The vibe is slower, calmer than you expected, not the controlled chaos you wanted. Your mind starts racing, already plotting a way to twist the tension.

“Want to play a game?” you ask, voice soft, almost teasing, as if daring her to say yes.

“What game? A board game?”

You nod side to side, “No. Let’s play truth or dare.”

And let’s just say, you have no intentions of taking it easy on her. You’re already thinking of a bunch of dares than truths.

“Okay. Loser chugs their wine?” Nayeon adds in a rule.

“Hmm, yeah. Okay, I guess,” you reply and set your glass down to refill the wine as Nayeon sets her down for you to pour into hers too. Whoever wins or lose doesn’t matter to you. You’re going for something else.

“Oppa, is it true that you’re trying to sleep with me?”

“That’s true,” you murmur, which wasn’t what Nayeon would expect from you to say so easily. “I dare you to stay the night.”

“Pass,” she laughs.

“Already? So that’s how she’s going to play,” you note to yourself and quickly think of a truth. “Is it true that you check me out when I’m not looking?”

“T-true,” Nayeon forces her words out her mouth. “I dare you to call the last girl you slept with and tell her you love her.”

“Pass,” you quickly reply.

“Wow,” she utters. “Okay. Is it true that you.. is it true that Tzuyu wasn’t the last person you slept with?”

“That’s true. I dare you take off that bracelet, Nayeon.”

And without a doubt, she easily does the dare and sets her bracelet down onto the table. “I dare you to take a sip,” she laughs.

You pick up your wine glass and take a quick sip. “I dare you to sit closer to me.”

Nayeon slowly inches closer, enough for you to get a stronger whiff of the shampoo you had in your bathroom. “I dare you to… do ten push-ups.”

“Okay,” you chuckle and get down on the floor to start doing push ups as she counts up to ten in her mind. But she’s more focused on your biceps that she lost count by how many push-ups you did. After doing ten reps of push-ups, you take a breath and get up to sit back on the couch. “I dare you to do fifteen push-ups.”

“Oppa,” she nervously laughs. “I don’t want to.”

“It’s just fifteen, Nayeon,” you softy say. “You got this. It would be done before you know it. Now get down.”

“Oh my gosh, you’re starting to sound like a drill instructor. Can I pass?”

“We always play with one free pass. At least I’m not daring you take your shirt off. I’ll never do that to you.”

“Okay. Fine,” she groans and gets on the floor to start doing push ups.

You’re trying to not laugh as she hesitates to even do the third rep after all the confidence of doing the first two quickly. “Look how flimsy your arms are, Nayeon.”

Maybe humiliating her fueled Nayeon enough to get bolder with the next dare she has in mind. Also, you’re checking her out, without hiding it while she’s busy pushing herself for a third rep.

“Even Chaeyoung can do three without stopping,” you add on, fueling motivation for her to start the fourth rep.

“Shh,” she utters and presses her lips as she goes down and slowly up from the third rep.

“Breathe in when you go down, breathe out when you come up. Adjust your posture, you’re a little off.”

“Sir, may I get another free pass, please?”

You laugh at that—the way she’s speaking so formally so you can let her off this time. “I think you got this, Nayeon. Fighting!”

She looks at you and sighs. Whining was her last resort. “I don’t want to do this. It’s too much. Just give me another dare. I’ll do that one. I promise.”

This isn’t a truth or dare game anymore, it’s just dares with zero truths at this point.

“Okay, I dare you to get up and take your shirt off.”

Her face was filled with regret, and some betrayal when you said you’d never dare her to take off her shirt. But you know she’s the kind to never break her promises as she sighs, “Okay.”

Nayeon stands in front of you to take off her shirt. Her fingers curl under the hem of her shirt. She doesn’t rush anything. Instead she peels it upwards slowly, inch by inch, letting the soft cotton drag lightly against her body that you see every subtle shift. The shirt slides over the smooth, flat plane of her stomach first. Then higher, revealing the gentle undercurve of her boobs, still hidden beneath a thin black bra that clings onto her.

She stands there for a moment with the shirt dangling loosely from her fingers, cheeks already glowing with the faintest flush. Slowly, and almost hesitantly, she presses her arms tight against her sides in a shy way, squeezing the soft swell of her boobs together and upward. The thin black bra strains under the gentle pressure, just a little over the cups in a way that makes them look impossibly soft. You catch the way her breath hitches, the quick little glance she darts downward like she’s suddenly aware of you looking at her. A fresh wave of pink creeps up her neck. Nayeon’s embarrassed by how obviously she’s putting herself on display for you, yet she doesn’t pull away. She doesn’t want to take back her promise.

Your gaze lowers down helplessly, fixated on her slim stomach that makes dirty thoughts flood in with imaginations of you pressing down on it with your cock inside of her to make sure she feels more than your whole length. Nayeon notices exactly where your eyes are glued.

“You’re staring so hard,” she murmurs with a shaky breath and brushes her hair. Nayeon saw that subtle gulp from you as her eyes trail down to your crotch to see a bulge from your gray shorts. And boldly, you reach your hand out to her.

“What’s stopping you from sharing the same bed with me that we had to go this far?"

Nayeon swallows hard as she reaches for your hand and steps closer on the couch. Up close, her heart races so fiercely you could rest your chin against the warm plane of her stomach or press a kiss there, giving her body the attention it silently begs for.

“I’m— I’m just nervous,” she quietly confesses. Whether if she’s just making an excuse to hide some kind of fantasy, you still took note of her words.

“I want you, Nayeon,” you say, your thumb tracing slow circles across her palms, the size of your hand swallowing hers. That simple difference sparks something in her. She imagines your fingers locked with hers against the sheets. She pictures your fingers squeezing her boobs. Or sliding down to grip the soft curve of her ass. The thoughts hit her all at once.

Her breathing grows heavier. You keep looking into each other’s eyes. Neither of you looks away. The room settles into stillness. Holding her hands like this feels intimate, not forceful, only steady and quietly yearning. Her shirt is already gone. The moment has settled its own quiet weight now. Why break it? Sunlight pours through the window and finds her skin, warm gold gliding over her collarbone and shoulders, catching the faint scatter of goosebumps along her arms

She finds it charming, despite that tough imagine of you that’s always present and shown. Or is it all a facade? Nayeon knows you enough that it could be, but it’s worth doubting.

“Oppa…” she lets out a breath and presses her lips.

“Hmm?”

Before she can ask what she wanted to, you ease your grip on her hands, letting them slip free with care. Then your palms find her hips and settle there gently. Your fingers spread just enough to cradle the soft dip above her waistband. The touch says everything you have not spoken yet. No more waiting. No more hovering at the edge. She studies your face and tries to read something clear in your eyes. The familiarity stays thin. She knows your hands now more than she knows your thoughts. Her thought process turns to fog with only one question in mind. “Should I just let him?”

“May I?” you ask, voice dropping low, softer than anything she’s heard from you, almost careful like you’re afraid of breaking the moment. The instant her eyes flick down, your fingers hook into the waistband of her pants, digging in firm, no hesitation, no sound she catches beforehand. It quick and silent it. Your hands already there, already claiming the next inch of skin without asking twice.

Then her gaze drops and locks there, stuck on the length of your cock bulging against the front of your shorts. The fabric is stretched thin, almost translucent where it clings, begging wordlessly for Nayeon to do something. You leave her to be indecisive that it drives her insane. But never could she be so shameless.

Yet, you wait for her response. “Nayeon?”

It’s driving her insane—your voice low against her skin, the firm grip you still have on her hips, those hungry eyes of yours reflecting her own flushed, unraveling face back at her.

“Do you want a break?” you ask, voice gentle but edged with risk as your fingers slowly release the waistband of her shorts.

In the same heartbeat, she snatches your wrist, keeping your hand exactly where it was, stopping you from pulling away completely. No words, just that grip—tight, almost desperate like she’s been fighting this exact surrender all day and is finally losing.

“You can’t make up your mind,” you murmur. “Pretty girl, one second you’re pushing me away… the next you’re asking me. Should I make the decisions now?"

You don’t wait for an answer. You pull her in hard.

Her knees sink into the couch cushions on either side of you as she straddles you instinctively, thighs spreading, body dropping closer even though her mind still seems to be arguing with itself. Her palms slap flat against the backrest behind your head for balance until you slide one hand up her spine and tug her the rest of the way in by the nape, chest to chest, mouth hovering her neck.

“Playboy,” she lets out a breath, feeling your hungry lips on her neck.

“Call me whatever you want,” you murmur.

This whole day with her had been a glorious mess. Nothing went your way, yet you adapted—shifting every failed attempt at seduction into something sharper, more patient, more relentless, more yearning. Nayeon kept playing her stubborn games of deflecting and teasing, but each pushback only stoked the dangerous ambition burning in you. And now you finally had what you wanted, while every wall she’d built was crumbling under the weight of her own denied desire.

Nayeon’s crotch is warm against yours as she feels every inch of how hard you are. The sensation is teasingly intoxicating, stirring her curiosity about exactly how it would feel inside her. All she’s ever heard was Jihyo’s recounting of how good your cock feels buried in her: the slow, burning stretch, the overwhelming fullness that made her sleep peacefully right after until the sun rises.

You listen as her breaths grow louder, each one escaping in soft, uncontrolled bursts like she’s finally letting go of the restraint she’s clung to all day. Slowly, her eyes flutter closed and her head tilts back, offering you the graceful, exposed line of her throat. Your warm breath drifts across her neck in gentle waves, and you feel the instant response ripple through her body. She arches toward you, spine curving in a smooth, instinctive bow that presses her warm crotch more firmly against the thick hardness straining beneath her. The contact draws a quiet shiver from her, toes curling tight as her hips give a small, needy roll in your lap.

She lets your name escape in a soft, quivering moan.

She’s warmer than you expected, skin still kissed by that patch of sunlight she’d been standing in moments ago. Your cold hands brush her back, and the moment your fingers unhook her bra, a gentle shiver runs through her as the lace slips down her shoulders and hangs loosely there. The slow, teasing rolls of her hips against your crotch have you throbbing hard beneath her. Neither of you two can bear waiting any longer.

As you lift yourself up with a quiet groan, you carry Nayeon in your arms to bed. She wraps her legs around your waist right away, ankles locking as you stand. Your hands slide down to hold her ass, fingers sinking slowly into the plush warmth you’ve wanted to touch all day.

Nayeon moans softly in your ear, shameless now. Her tongue flicks out, tasting your skin before her lips close over your neck—hot, wet, sucking little kisses that turn into needy bites while her breathy whimpers vibrate against your neck.

Once you step into the bedroom, you lower Nayeon onto the bed with slow care then yank her hips toward you, hard enough to make her gasp. You yank her bra off in one rough pull and drag her pants down her legs until they hit the floor. Right after, you take off your shirt over your head and toss it aside while she watches with wide curious eyes. Nayeon doesn’t turn away. She takes in the small beautiful scars you have. But what really gets her is the muscles on your chest. Now she gets to sees what Jihyo’s so fascinated about.

The two of you forgotten all about the wine or that stupid truth or dare game.

Your hands hook into the waistband of your shorts and tug them down slowly until only the thin fabric of your boxers remains. Nayeon’s eyes drop immediately onto the site of your bulge. Her lips press together, then part again as a quiet breath escapes. She bites down on her lower lip, but doesn’t look away. If anything, her stare grows heavier.

You say nothing. There's no need to. You see the sweet hesitation flickering across her face. Instead, you reach for her hands and pull Nayeon up from the bed, fingers wrapping firmly around her wrists, slowly guiding them towards your crotch. You insist on her to pull your boxers down. You hold Nayeon there for a heartbeat—long enough for her to feel the heat radiating off your body as her fingertips brush your bare skin. She hesitates one last teasing second, then curls her fingers and pulls, inch by torturous inch, freeing your cock out slowly in front of her.

What you find beautiful is how quiet the bedroom stays. She lets you take the lead and maybe that is where her comfort lives. No words. No rush. Just the soft rustle of fabric and the faint rhythm of both your breaths filling the space.

You lift her chin up and lean in, hovering your lips on hers to see if Nayeon would even let you kiss her, and when her eyes close, you follow, slowly pressing your lips to hers. The contact is soft and lingering, the kind that makes you aware of every small sensation, the warmth of her mouth, the faint way her breath catches, the quiet stillness that settles between you as if the world has stepped back to watch. Your hand stays at her jaw, holding her gently, and you feel her lean into your touch without thinking, trusting the closeness, letting herself rest there with you. When you finally pull away, she looks at you in silence, cheeks flushed, eyes open and searching as if Nayeon wanted more.

“Lay down,” you whisper, pushing her gently by the shoulders. Neither did you forget her panties are still on, because that’s nothing to worry about. You’re more interested in how wet she can get by your fingers, or how she would moan.

Crawling on top of Nayeon, you lean down closer and taste her neck again. You can't get enough. You love how completely she gives herself up for you. While she's lost in the sensation, you shift to the side and slip your hand under her panties. The instant your fingers reach her clit, a sharp jolt shoots through her body.

The muscles in Nayeon’s legs flexes hard, instinctively clamping down around your wrist like she was trying to trap your hand there forever. You could feel the warmth, the slickness already coating your very fingertips before inserting a single finger in her. And until you do with your middle and index finger, she lets out a gentle squeal, grabbing a hold of the back of your shoulders right away. She feels how rock solid they are all the way down to your shoulder blades. In her mind, that grip somehow feels necessary.

You look at her with fascination as Nayeon turns to you. Her eyes stay shut tight. Her teeth clench here and there until she can't hold back anymore and lets out her moans. You finger her a beat slower as her legs begin to open again. The wet sounds of her pussy grow more refined than muffled. She moans desperately and tries to catch her breaths.

And with how desperate she sounds, you pull your fingers out slowly, licking Nayeon’s nectar right in front of her. It surprises her, and she doesn’t know what to say or do, but it turns her on even more

You get back on top of her and take off her panties to settle between her legs, dragging the tip of your cock slowly along her soaked folds to spread them apart. You insert your tip in, sending a jolt through both your bodies. Pushing steadily deeper, Nayeon lets out a broken whimper as your cock stretches her tight walls inch by inch. Holding there a moment to feel her pulse around you, you start thrusting, slowly at first, letting the two of you ease into this sensation. As soon as she’s too dazed to track every movement, you drop your chest flush against hers.

Nayeon tries to keep her eyes open, but every time she manages to, she’s caught by the solid frame of your shoulders hovering above her. Her shy hands clutch desperately at your sides. Her legs lock tight around your hips, pulling you in deeper. You’ve never felt her touch you with such raw need until today. Each low, rough groan that escapes your throat brushes directly against her ear. The sound wraps around her senses like a chokehold she has no desire to escape.

“So fucking pretty,” you murmur, running your fingers gently over the top of her head. “Someone would be so jealous to see you like this,” you groan. And just to twist the knife a little sweeter, you moan her name twice, slow and deliberate, letting each syllable linger—for all the right reasons and every wrong one. “Naaa-yeon… fuck… Nayeon.”

You’ll make sure she remembers this exact day.

You’ll make sure, that if she’s ever lonely by herself in bed, you want to be the one she thinks about with her naughty hands lifting up her panties.

You drive deeper into Nayeon with each powerful thrust, stretching her open until every inch feels claimed. The bed cradles her beneath like a weightless cloud, silk sheets clinging damply to her flushed skin while the soft mattress yields and absorbs the steady, rhythmic slam of your hips against hers. She can’t hold back the moans. They spill out raw and helpless, each one louder than the last as you set an overwhelming tempo that leaves Nayeon trembling. Her teeth catch her lower lip hard, then a second later, her chin finds your shoulder, pressing there to anchor herself.

“You take it so well, Nayeon,” you murmur, voice thick with restraint. Your free hand traces down the curve of her thigh, fingers curling firmly under her knee to lift her leg higher, hooking it securely under your arm. The new angle opens her more, letting you sink even deeper with the next slow thrust. She feels so hopelessly overwhelmed that it's intoxicating. Every shallow, ragged breath she drags in syncs perfectly with the grind of your hips as you hold her pinned beneath you—stretched, filled, and utterly yours to fuck. The quiet storm between your bodies builds hotter, tighter, her walls fluttering and gripping like she never wants you to pull out.

“Right there,” she breathes, voice thin and trembling. Her desperate moan of your name slips out softly and beautifully broken. It hits you like a shockwave. Your cock throbs hard inside her, pulsing in response as you steal one quick, selfish breath before driving back into her with relentless, greedy thrust.

Suddenly, Nayeon seizes beneath you. Her walls clamp down viciously around your length with her muffled cries spilling against your shoulder. Her fingers dig helplessly into your sides. Her legs lock even tighter around your hips like she’s trying to fuse you to her. Shallow gasps turn into soft, pitiful whimpers as her whole body shudders through the waves of her orgasm. She’s cumming—hard, and the sudden grip of her walls catches you off guard, but you savor it, keeping that slow grind going so she feels every inch through the waves.

You ease your rhythm just enough to let her ride it out, but never fully stopping. You keep thrusting slowly, deeply back and forth, letting her feel every inch penetrating her walls. Your own breathing grows rougher and heavier. Your throat feels tight and hoarse. Half of it, you blame on the wine, the other half is purely her—how fucking good she feels when she comes undone like this.

“Nayeon,” you gasp, slowly pulling out of her. She looks down between her legs with confusion flickering in her hazy eyes. “Get on top.”

As you lay down on your back, she tiredly gets on her knees and on top of you with an exhausted groan. You know she’s not done. You know she wants more, and that’s how you want her to be.

“I’ll cum in you, Nayeon,” you tell her as she reaches down, wraps her fingers around your slick cock, and guides your tip inside. Then she sinks slowly with a gentle, shuddering moan.

Her hands plant on your chest for balance. Those short manicured nails dig in hard, leaving faint red crescent marks on your skin as she starts to roll her hips. The movements are slow, torturously slow that it makes your cock throb inside her with every grind. She’s drowning in it, eyes half-lidded, lips parted, completely lost in her own pleasure while she uses you to chase it. The wet, slick sounds of her pussy fill the room once she begins to ride you. Each lift and drop is controlled until it’s almost unbearable for you. Your hands find her thighs and tightly grip on them.

Nayeon's unbelievably pretty like this: flushed cheeks, tits swaying gently with every roll, expressions shifting between bliss and concentration as she works herself on you. Her eyes are half-lidded, hazy with lust, but still locked on you like she wants to watch every second of you losing your very mind. It’s killing you to hold back from cumming.

You can’t hold on much longer.

Not when she’s constantly grinding and riding you in all the hungry, selfish ways.

She pauses and leans forward, bracing her palms flat on your chest. Her tits sway gently with the shift as you reach to get a hold of how soft they are. The first thick cum shoots up deep inside her, followed by pulse after pulse as she completely milks you. Your chin lifts as quiet, rough grunts tear from your throat, each one more broken and ragged than the last. Your hips jerk helplessly beneath her until the sensation slowly draws weaker.

The moments after become shared, intimate, and suspended in the hazy quiet of the bedroom where every breath catches and lingers. Nayeon tilts her head back toward the ceiling with a gentle, wicked little smile curving her lips as she savors the afterglow, eyes half-closed in private triumph while you fight to steady your breathing beneath her. Exhaustion floods you from head to toe. Nayeon hasn’t moved an inch with your cock still in her warm pussy full of cum. Every last drop of your cum becomes held captive within her walls, ready to ooze out right after and create a mess. Your hands stay on her tits and squeeze lightly. She doesn’t pull away or flinch—just lets you touch her like this, soft and possessive, while her body stays over yours in lazy, intimate claim.

“He feels so fucking good,” Nayeon thinks to herself.

——

Afterwards, she lies in bed with the blanket pulled up to her chest. The sheets are still warm and the room feels very quiet. You step out from the bathroom and walk to the kitchen. Nayeon stares at the ceiling. Her mind drifts and then goes blank. She still feels the warmth of your hands on her skin and the memory leaves her dazed. Nothing feels hurried now. The air seems heavier. Time moves slowly. Nayeon still can’t believe any of it happened. She became someone else in the moments you were deep inside her.

“Nayeon, come out when you’re ready,” you say. She didn't realize you came back until she glanced over and find you standing there.

“Uh, okay,” she murmurs. A bitter feeling settles in her chest. It lingers in the way you speak so casually, in the way you seem slightly ignorant of the weight she is still carrying. The moment that meant everything to her already feels distant to you, and that realization sinks slowly. She felt discarded, and the thought stays with her, long after the words have left her lips.

As you step into the kitchen, you open the fridge and take out the plastic container of strawberries and the precut watermelon. You rinse the strawberries and set a cutting board on the counter. The knife moves in a steady rhythm as you begin to slice them. From the bedroom, the sound of the toilet flushing carries down the hall, followed by the soft rush of the sink turning on.

A few minutes later, Nayeon walks out quietly. Her steps are slow and careful. She pauses at the corner and watches you for a moment. “What are you doing?” she asks, her voice soft and unreadable.

“You barely ate the whole day, Nayeon,” you say. You lift the knife and press it cleanly through the middle of a strawberry, holding it up for her to see before setting it down with the rest. The quiet care in your voice reaches her before the meaning does. The bitterness that had settled inside Nayeon begins to loosen, fading almost at once. It had only been a misunderstanding, something fragile she had built in her own silence. “Go sit down,” you tell her gently. “I’ll get you a plate while I make something proper.”

“Oh,” she murmurs softly. “Thank you. What—uh, do you plan on making?”

“Don’t know. I have pork belly in the fridge. Probably season it and air fry that or something. I don’t know. Or beef?”

“Oh,” she repeats herself that it wasn’t intentional and sits down at the couch to stare at the wine that she forgotten all about. And without hesitation, Nayeon reaches for her glass to take a light sip.

“Unless you want me to order because you don’t trust me cooking something,” you lightly tease her with a smirk.

“I trust you more than Sana,” she laughs it off shyly and brushes her hair back.

You gather the strawberries on the cutting board to the empty plate and walk over to her on the couch. “Staying the night?”

She looks up at you and grabs the plate from your hands with the fork neatly placed on the side. “Uh… I don’t know.”

“It’s your call, Nayeon. Just know you’ll end up in my bed tonight. Don’t be surprised, but my guest bedroom takes payments on weekdays.”

She chuckles as you walk away, “I swear, you and your stupid jokes.”

And you just laugh on your way back to the kitchen. “I think you should stay.”

Trending Blogs

Recently Viewed Blogs

STMS