#cho miyeon

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We Just Fit

Miyeon x Male Reader - 11k words

“Fuck you.”

“That’s kinda the idea, baby.” Miyeon quips as she stares up at you with a cocky smirk. 

Seeing your unshifting gaze, she rolls her eyes and lets out a sigh, defeated. 

“Come on. We’ve had this argument a hundred times. You have won none of them. So save me the white knight act and fuck me,” She gives your cheek a few light slaps, finally getting her adorable pet to obey. “Hm, baby?”

-

Now, Miyeon wasn’t always like this. She used to be sweet, and caring, and soft, and unbelievably infectious with her sudden shotgun bursts of laughter that always catch you off-guard. It’s that distinct rise in pitch and volume in her laugh that makes it so stupidly goofy. Very unlike her image, much less a princess as she, annoyingly, claims to be.

But, calling her a delight would be an understatement; a heinous crime. She was more than that. She was sun, warmth, home. She was afternoon drives by the countryside as a breeze coolly slides across your cheek. But at the same time, she was class, elegance, and frilly dresses. She was velvet pillows and intricate curls on rose gold upholstery. She was, whether you like it or not, fucking immaculate. You’d call her godsent, but you think no God would’ve been wise to put this much power in a human being. Either way, God or no God, Miyeon was real. 

And, as luck would have it, she didn’t smite you the first time you interacted with her. Once you’ve gotten past the initial awkward small talk, conversations with her have been far from uninteresting. She tells stories like they’re epic sonnets with rising and falling actions, and you can’t help but flow to her narrative. She endlessly recounts to you the several dramas, shows, and countless movies she’s watched (Yes, even the ones you’ve already watched.), and you can’t help but pray that actors would go out of business if it means talking to Miyeon all day.

With a talker like her, she expects full attention from you, too. It was your sworn duty, an oath, invisibly signed on the day you became friends. 

But sometimes it could prove just a bit too much. Unbeknownst to her, you always kept a long list of phrases that help shut out the noise that is Miyeon as she drones on and on and on. Trusty tools, you thought so yourself.

-

“…and then I killed it during the live stream. I just hate it when they fly slow enough to buzz in my ear but fucking quick enough to dodge everything I throw at it.” She released a quick sigh. “Then afterwards I kinda felt bad, so I gave it a little funeral with tissue.” Miyeon pouted.

“Uh-huh, yeah.” You replied, eyes still fixated on your laptop screen. 

Miyeon shifted her gaze and stared at the side of your face. “And after that I got up to fix the chairs…”

“As one does, yes.” Your fingers glided across the keys.

Miyeon prodded her cheek with her tongue as she scoffed lightly. “And then I got naked on stream, you asshole. You’re not even listening!”

You inhaled deeply and exhaled shortly. With a final *CLACK* on your enter key, you faced a sulking Miyeon. 

“You were doing the livestream, and then you kept hearing the infuriating buzzing sound, but it would miss your hand every time you swatted it. You whirled around a bit and finally caught the mosquito. You suddenly felt bad, so you held a funeral with tissues and a little prayer. Afterwards, you probably fixed the chairs in the practice room, then ended the stream. I was listening. Asshole.” You smirked, proudly. Miyeon did too.

You’ve never really needed those tools.

-

From an outside perspective, people might think there’s something going on between you and Miyeon. You got it a lot actually, but that isn’t the case. You know that isn’t the case. 

Okay, well, you have harbored feelings for Miyeon to some degree, but seeing her already beaming with your friendship left you wanting to leave things the way they were. It worked perfectly, so why mess it up?

Consequently, knowing that there wasn’t anything between you and Miyeon, Minnie went ahead and asked you out. It was on a rainy afternoon, and it was chilly even inside Cube’s building. You were bundled up on the couch, busy fixing various schedules and the logistics of some of I-DLE’s promotion-week activities on your laptop when Minnie suddenly popped the question.

-

“Do you wanna go out?”

Your fingers halted. Your eyes immediately went to the closed window. The blur of the grey sky and the cold outside nipped at your ears. You dreaded the thought of the outdoors. So, you faced Minnie.

“You mean—“

Minnie quickly shook her head.

“Oh…Oh.” you realized.

Minnie continued to stare, lips slightly pouted. That was when you got a good look at her for the first time. Overshadowed by Miyeon’s constant hogging of your attention, Minnie wasn’t able to engage with you that much. You’ve had a few talks, but never really got to a real conversation. But holy hell, without competing with Miyeon, Minnie easily radiated and filled the whole room and about 4 other buildings down the block. You audibly gulped, nervously wracking your brain for a response. Say yes, idiot!, you internally shouted.

Minnie piped up again. “I think you’re cute and I wanna get to know you more. So what do you say?”

Sensing the silence, you shifted back to the task at hand: the gorgeous woman in front of you. Ears, check. Eyes, check. Head, check. You nodded up and down. 

“Yes, please.”

-

But this isn’t about Minnie, it’s about Miyeon. 

Now, for the record, Minnie was an absolute angel. No doubt about that. You’ve been dating for a couple of months now and have almost checked all the boxes on the list: you have a copy of each other’s keys, you’ve both met each other’s parents, and you’ve both admitted to loving one another. You haven’t slept together yet, but you were willing to wait if Minnie wanted to take it slow. Things were going great — up until that one night you had Miyeon over.

-

Miyeon called you up to tell you that she was coming over. It was around 12. On the phone, she already sounded kinda loopy — tipsy. Slurred words and constant hiccups kinda gave it way. Being the good friend you are, you agreed. Someone had to watch over her, so might as well be you. You sent a quick update to Minnie and a sweet goodnight. She sent back a photo of her, bundled up in bed with messy bangs and a small thumbs up.

Miyeon shortly arrived at your door with three soft knocks. She had her brown hair down and wore an extra-large purple sweater that hung on her slim body and shorts that proudly displayed her smooth thighs and legs. With a quick smile and a hey, she let herself in, and you got to making dinner for the both of you.

So there you were, sitting beside each other on your smelly (according to Miyeon) couch. You had just finished dinner and continued to tap away at your laptop while Miyeon fiddled with her phone. It was silent, but it was fine. Just the noises of each other seemed to suffice. Then Miyeon’s voice broke the air between you.

“Am I a good friend to you?”

Your ears perked up, and you hummed lightly. “Hm?”

Miyeon slowly exhaled. “I asked if I was a good friend to you.”

There was something about the question that sounded so different, so foreign, so…unexplored. You guys weren’t much for mushy stuff, so this was definitely a first. But, you had to admit, Miyeon is a great friend.

On days with too much work on your hands, she would never forget to stop by your office for a quick chat, holding whatever instant junk she found around the company. She would plop down on the couch in front of your desk and start talking. Little by little, you got to know her better.

You’re a talker just as much as she is, albeit only with her, but you figured that everybody was a talker with their best friends. Miyeon knew you well, too. She knew your ins and outs, your pet peeves, and your grievances. And you knew hers — how her nose scrunches every time she hears a trot song, or how she has a secret dimple on her cheek that only appears when you say an absolutely hilarious joke, or how she curses, like a lot, whenever only the two of you are around. You guys just…fit. So you went with that.

You cleared your throat and shuffled a bit on the sofa. Miyeon audibly gulped as she waited. She hugged her knees to her chest as she stared. 

“Well…” you started. “You are. You’re my best friend, and you’re really great. We just fit, you know?” You finished with a small shrug.

Miyeon’s face lightened, brows slowly unfurrowing, satisfied with your answer. She licked her lips and nodded. Right about now, you could guess a smirk was coming. Then, as if on cue, a corner of her lips rose, and you saw that dimple starting to show. The world just seemed to fade into the background as Miyeon held your gaze, the drunk blush perfectly accenting her cheeks. Both of you were light-years away from Earth at that point, drifting aimlessly into the unknown. And yet you didn’t care. Even then — with Miyeon in her messy, tipsy, aimless state — she was stunning. 

You flicked her forehead. 

Can’t let her have too big an ego. “That’s the only compliment you’ll squeeze out of me.”

She flicked your hand away as she clicked her tongue. “Oh fuck off,” she said with a snort.

Both of you settled shortly after, content and satisfied with each other’s answer. But you decided to question her more.

“So why’d you ask?” You smiled lightly.

Miyeon shrugged. 

“Miyeon.”

She released a long-withheld sigh. “I don’t know. I’ve…just been feeling down these past months.”

You stared at her softly and reached over to give her palm a squeeze. Now, you knew Miyeon had her sorrows; she was the worst at hiding them. You’d sometimes catch her on the verge of tears while reading fan letters or speaking onstage, and it was always the same outcome. She would use the same goofy laugh to buffer any deeper emotions she felt. You would hear it in her voice, that heartbreaking whimper, that trembling bottom lip, tears trying to force themselves out after being trapped for so long. It pained you to an extent. It was rare for Miyeon to be this open with her feelings, so you approached gently. 

“Well,” you started. “I’m here. I’m always here.”

You saw that familiar shimmer in her eyes and prepared for the worst.

But no tears fell that night. 

You heard her chuckle as she quickly dabbed the corner of her eyes. “I know.” Miyeon started. She found your gaze and gave you a reassuring nod. “I know.”

Sensing her sunken mood, you shifted gears and prepared a small zinger. You leaned towards her. “This is the part where you compliment me, too, you know?”

That did it. She fired off a laugh, clearly not letting you have the last word. “Shut the fuck up.”

“I’m serious!” You feigned innocence with two raised hands. “It’s only right,” you teased.

Miyeon waved you away with her hand and a giggle. “You won’t get one out of me.”

The sounds of her laughter died down as she hugged her knees once more. You shifted back to the comfortable silence. You were about to start working again when Miyeon asked another question.

“Have you and Minnie fucked?”

“Jesus. What kind of question is that?”

“A regular one?”

“An inappropriate one.

“Just tell me, Mr. Chastity.” Miyeon chuckled.

“Shut up.”

“Come on.”

“Fuck. Off.”

“Oh please. Just say no and get it over with.”

“Oh for— fine. Okay, fine. No. No, we have not fucked. There, happy?”

“You probably aren’t.”

You scoffed. “I am. If Minnie wants to wait, then I’ll wait. What’s so hard to get?”

Miyeon pursed her lips and shrugged. “I was just curious.” 

You licked your lips, ready for another sharp comeback if ever Miyeon pushed it. But she didn’t. Instead, her eyes flickered dangerously — from your lap and back up to you. 

“I bet you’re so pent up.” 

What the fuck was that?, you thought to yourself.

Alarms blared in your ear as you assessed what Miyeon said, replaying it over and over. Your heart slowly began to pound against your chest, frightened by the uncertainty of it all. But a part of you picked up on it: that subliminal beckon in her tone, the fiery dare the woman has presented to you in the form of a few “innocent” words. She was suddenly crossing way too many lines, more than you could count. A once-in-a-lifetime chance to do something extremely wrong and stupid lies before you in the form of your extremely captivating friend. It felt sinful, mortifying. Exciting.

Miyeon stared at you with a slightly raised eyebrow, daring you to make a move. Her hidden dimple, ever so visible, betrayed her thoughts on the situation before you: this was a mere game to her. A helpless game where only Miyeon won, and you lost, be it swiftly or painstakingly slow. You stared at her pale hand as it travelled from her side over to your knee. Your heart, finally being heard by your brain, groaned out a response.

“Miyeon.”

She hummed lightly. “Hm?”

“Please.” You begged her. 

Her eyes flickered once more, a hint of the Devil that lived inside the woman. She breathed out a small chuckle. “Please what?”

You teetered on the point of no return, seeing the slippery slope that Miyeon pulled you to. It dazed you and made you feel that knot in your stomach tighten. In your haze, you saw images of Minnie shifting before you: her smile, her sweet laugh, how she looked in that practice room the day she asked you out. But all those visions were torn from you by Miyeon’s soft gaze, a juxtaposition to her intent. The guilt your heart carried intensified its beating. You felt it in your temple down to your throat, hopelessly protesting. You looked down at your lap and saw something that made your heart fall from that point of no return. You were hard.

Miyeon followed your gaze, and you saw the idea form in her head. 

You blurted out with weak lungs as you shook your head in denial. “Miyeon, no. Please.”

“Nobody has to know. Not even her.”

Miyeon lifted her hand from your knee and placed it on the couch to prop herself up. Miyeon turned towards you as her face slowly approached the crook of your neck, just stopping by your ear. 

“It’s okay, baby. Relax.” She cooed. Her soft brown hair turned into a dangerous blur to your right as she toyed with you. Her exhales were hot on the side of your face as you struggled under her control, a small peek into the absolute power she has over you. Her colored nails trailed along the right side of your face as she pushed you to meet her gaze. She finally leaned into you as the dangerous brown blur filled your vision. You shut your eyes in response.

And there it went. All the built-up tension weighing on both of you — exploding into this first kiss that ultimately signalled the end of your friendship. All that passion and heat, finally poured — imbued — into a single action. You braced for the explosion. 

The kiss was soft. Oh God, was it soft. 

Her lips were gentle, tender. You smelled the green apple shampoo you saw her buy months ago. You tasted that sugary lip gloss you saw her apply every morning. You tasted Miyeon, devoid of the sun or the royalty you’ve come to know: just an idol. A celebrity. Your bestest friend. She was bare, vulnerable, fragile. In that moment — in those few precious seconds — she was yours; and by God were you never letting go.

You remember there being no urgency in the kiss. It wasn’t chaste, it was passionate. Lips remained where they were supposed to, never overstaying. But they also constantly moved, shifted, desperate to cover the unexplored with each other. Slight sounds and breaths served as your signals to one another: what worked, what didn’t. Miyeon led the kiss, stringing you along with her. Her fingers travelled gracefully across your neck and forearms, stopping on your jaw and in your hair. On instinct, you raised your own hands. Landing on her slim, toned waist, you gave her a gentle squeeze. You gripped firmly and set her on your lap, legs straddling you. Miyeon groaned into the kiss in response, further spurring you on and further embedding the depravity of it all. 

Then her tongue came. You felt it prod your bottom lip, a new sensation grazing against you, hoping to be let in. In truth, Miyeon didn’t need to hope. She was on top of this situation and knew what she was doing. Giving you the illusion of control, making you feel like you had a say, like you could do something, it exhilarated her, thrilled her. In turn, it thrilled you too. The ecstasy and pure rush of infidelity accentuated, regrettably, the more selfish parts of your mind. It fed your appetite, disassembling your morals, kicking out ego and superego simultaneously, leaving only your id at the helm.

You found the smooth line of her back with both hands and felt Miyeon’s body for the first time. You ran your digits along her spine, fingertips riding her curves, feeling every bump and shape. You made detours, U-turns, triggering small moans from the woman on top of you. But it wasn’t enough, you had to have more. Your hands, with a mind of their own, ventured hesitantly to the bottom of her sweater, craving to touch and feel skin. Sensing this, Miyeon broke off the kiss as she crossed her arms and helped you pull off the unnecessary purple barrier. 

Her flawless hips revealed themselves to you, inch by inch, as the sweater receded. Delicate mounds covered by a black bra slightly bounced with each minuscule movement, wide open to any advances you make. Her graceful neck and collarbone fought for your attention, begging to be touched, or kissed, or worshipped. Here she was, at your disposal, to do with whatever you hungered for, a meal fit for a king. So you dove right into the feast before you, sampling every appetizer, knowing you were the only patron tonight. The only patron ever.

Hands. Arms. Lips. Teeth. Tongue. You touched and felt Miyeon in all the ways possible, triggering spots that made her moan, hum, or wince excitedly. Her lithe fingers pushed against the back of your head, beckoning you to take more of her, to consume more of her. You reached around to unclasp her bra and hurriedly placed your lips back onto her skin. You trailed kisses from her clavicle all the way down to the top part of her chest. You graciously smothered yourself with the round flesh as you took a nipple into your mouth. Miyeon excitedly gasps as you tongued at the hardened bud, her fingers and nails harshly pulling on your scalp. It took quite a few minutes for Miyeon to pull your face away from her breasts and back up to her gaze. You stared back in wonder, finally seeing a different degree of Miyeon’s beauty for the first time, a rare type of beauty desired by many yet only seen by those deemed worthy. 

She stared at you, wide-eyed, chest heaving up and down. Her silky brown hair flowed effortlessly down to her shoulders and onto her elegant skin, a strand or two still lying on her cheek. You silently gulped as she sat on top of you. You were frozen, absolutely smitten. You felt it again. That serene silence, the ambience of you and Miyeon, waiting to be broken once more.

“Fuck me.” The vulgar request leapt from her mouth.

Right there and then, you knew that those words would forever be your favorite. Overcome by lust, you hungrily dove back to her lips, harshly kissing her dirty mouth. You tucked the stray hair back behind her ear as your hands returned to her luscious hips. Your fingers crept down the small of her back and stopped at the waistband of her shorts. 

“Go ahead, baby,” Miyeon whispered.

You dug your thumb underneath the garment and pulled downwards, cheekily bringing her panties along. Miyeon shifted to help you take them off, smiling into the kiss when she realized what you did. You soon pulled off your own sweatpants, finally freeing your flexed cock, wincing in anticipation. It stood in attention, just directly below Miyeon’s dripping cunt, waiting to pierce forbidden flesh.

With a hand on her ass and one on your cock, you gently lowered Miyeon and her soaking lips. You felt her intense warmth slowly approach the tip of your cock, breaching the velvety walls and roughly sliding into her tightness. With a small inhale, Miyeon dropped herself, her succulent thighs slamming onto your lap. You filled Miyeon, her splayed pussy gripping the hilt. You both gasped in unison, this newfound sensation destroying all your previous thoughts of morals and principles. You were in too deep.

Miyeon inhaled sharply once more, her walls rubbed against your shaft as she twitched in pleasure. She roughly pushed your face against her chest as she hugged your head, her soaking pussy clenching and tightening. 

“God, fuck, you’re big. Fuck fuck fuck.” Miyeon moaned, her face almost pointing up to the ceiling, arched back and all. Without waiting to adjust to your size, Miyeon immediately shifted and ground her hips against yours. “Is this what you meant when you said we fit?” she breathed out in a sexy whisper.

“Shut up.” You chuckled into her sweaty skin. Your chest rose and fell as you held onto Miyeon, burying your face in the crook of her neck, inhaling more of that green apple scent. You helped the princess ride you, her ass bouncing each time she slammed herself back down, the explicit sound of slapping skin filling your living room and your head. You tasted the saltiness of her sweat, building up on each corner of her fine neck as she used your rigid cock to chase her own peak. With both hands on her ass, you stared at each other, open-mouthed, gasping, whispering each other’s name. You gave her round cheeks a nice squeeze, bringing out a squeal from Miyeon. 

Having had enough, you abruptly placed both hands back on her hips and thrusted upwards, meeting her as she came back down. The sudden force shocked Miyeon, her limbs grabbing and wrapping around you on instinct, allowing you to lift more of her body for your own pleasure. You brought Miyeon up each time, dropping her and slamming your cock upwards in unison. You felt every inch of her steamy walls on your shaft, every spot that made Miyeon scream and mewl, making sure to hit each one as you thrusted. Incoherent noises and whispers ran down your right ear and neck as Miyeon held onto you, perfectly fine with the way you fucked her and used her raw. You released tight-lipped grunts as you sucked on her collarbone, making up for all the times she wore shirts that showed off her gorgeous neck.

“Shit, right there, right there! God, shit, you’re fucking perfect!” Miyeon screamed. 

Thinking back now, she wasn’t so bad herself.

You fucked her like that for a while, the numerous yesses and drunk utterings of your name keeping your performance consistent, your thrusts deep, and the act visceral. The repeated movement dulled your senses, hardwiring your brain, reprogramming basic instincts, and boiling it down to just fucking Miyeon. 

Fuelled by hunger and driven by lust, you soon felt the familiar wall approaching. Your thrusts became erratic, uneven, the perfect rhythm of your bodies now absent. You felt every inch of Miyeon’s walls grasping your hard cock, squelching and squeezing the hot flesh, signalling you to release. You gritted your teeth as you faced Miyeon once more, her eyes closed, lost. Lost in the heat, pleasure, betrayal, and the utter excitement of it all. Soon her eyes opened, finding yours once more. You saw her eyes flash as she stared, glazed over with lust and something else, something deeper. You’ve never really known what that was. You’ve never had the guts to ask.

“Miyeon I-“ you started, your grip on her back tightening as you fought to stave off your orgasm, waiting for her signal.

Miyeon gasped sharply as she felt you grow harder, loading up and about to burst any minute. “I know, baby, I know.” She sputters. “I-I’m…fuck. Me too. Me too.” The erotic jiggle of her curves as you slammed upwards only gave way to the overwhelming peak both of you were approaching. 

“Wher–“

“Inside! Inside! Fucking cum inside me, baby. Please!” Miyeon screamed out, her fingernails stinging, almost piercing your scalp. 

Miyeon raised your head once more, bringing you in for one last open-mouthed kiss, tongues meeting and battling once again. You harshly slammed her back down on your throbbing cock all the way to the hilt, the tip reaching up inside her lustful cavern. Your loaded balls finally got their release as your cock twitched. 

You came violently. Your load came shooting up and into her steamy body, shot after shot of pure white ecstasy. Ropes and strands of semen, finally finding their escape. Your fingernails dig deep into her hips and her asscheek, burying yourself deeper into Miyeon’s slick pussy. 

Miyeon wasn’t one to be beaten either. As you felt your orgasm erupt, her pussy tightens and contracts. You felt her gush and ooze as her fluids came rushing down, meeting your own. You felt her slick on your stiff cock, all the way down to your empty balls. She twitched occasionally, receiving every drop of your love with courtesy. Miyeon cursed and screamed endlessly, biting her lip as she felt you fill her to the brim.

Waves of the orgasm rushed over both of you as you stilled, faces atop each other’s shoulders. Your arms that wrapped around Miyeon’s body never slacked, still taking a hold of the precious woman, never allowing her to fall. Simultaneous inhales and exhales, soft squeezes, and last-minute pecks were all you were able to do. There was a strange sweetness to it all, the aftercare clearly genuine and soothing.

That was the best orgasm you’ve ever had, and Miyeon knew. Little did you know that was hers as well. The deed was done, your fate sealed, your heart heavy, and your faith broken. Your mind flashed back to Minnie’s photo, leaving a sick feeling in your core. You shook your head, attempting to bury the immense guilt in your stomach. 

Unaware of this, Miyeon finally let go. Her scattered hair, reddish collarbone, and slightly bruised curves were on full display as she placed both hands on your cheek. She grinned at you with heavy eyelids. You scanned the digital clock on your side-drawer. 3:24.

“Fuck, you’re amazing.” She whispered, kissing your cheek. You felt your face flush with heat as you suddenly blushed. She gave a tired giggle as she propped her head on your shoulder, leaning into you, her breathing finally slowing. You stared at her for a while, waiting for her to fall asleep, her dimple still on display. You grasped the princess and finally lay on your couch, draping a spare blanket over both of your sweaty figures. You stared at the top of Miyeon’s head, contemplating whether to give her one last kiss or not. You didn’t. Your heavy lids fell as you lay your head back on the couch, exhaustion finally setting in.

-

You woke up around 5-ish, feeling Miyeon shuffle against your body, squeezing herself into your arms. You stiffened, remembering the ungodly events of your night together. You gulped nervously as you slowly lowered your gaze to the top of Miyeon’s head against your bare chest. You stared at your clothes, scattered and draped all over your furniture; your laptop, still open with the file you worked on last night; your phone lay neatly on the table, overturned and unaware. Your breathing slightly quickened, going through scripts and monologues of possible excuses and false stories that would properly explain what happened between you and Miyeon. 

You shook your head. No. Nothing happened. Just a regular night. 

The shameful lie left a bitter taste in your mouth, a taste that was quickly becoming too familiar.

Feeling your chest rise and fall quicker than usual, Miyeon buried her head further into your chest, grumbling.

“Mmm, she’s not gonna find out,” Miyeon muttered against your body, eyes still closed, attempting to grab onto her last hope of sleep.

“This was fucking wrong, Miyeon. I have to tell her.” You whispered.

“And risk breaking her heart?” 

“What about mine? I feel awful. She trusted me.”

“And she still does.” Miyeon corrected. 

Miyeon finally lifted her head, meeting your gaze, her smirk the first thing you saw behind her draping hair.

”You just don’t tell her.” She followed up.

Miyeon yawned for a moment before leaning into your ear. You felt her hands untangle from your neck as they trailed down your torso and onto your already-stiff cock. Her fingers wrapped around the tip, lightly rubbing against the underside.

“Miyeon wha—.”

“Besides...” Miyeon stroked your cock gently. “I don’t think you mind at all, right? Baby?” 

“Bu—“

“You could’ve stopped me, you know?” Miyeon taunted quietly, her strokes getting faster and faster. “You could have stopped me, and I would have listened.” Confusion and pleasure rushed to your brain, your heart rate picking up again as your cock throbbed against her hand. Fight and flight responses melted together, frying your brain and rendering you useless.

“But you didn’t.” Miyeon egged you on, her grasp on you twisting and slowing down all of a sudden, the rush of satisfaction snatched away from you. Your hips involuntarily bucked in protest, desperate to feel the illicit friction. You released a pent-up groan as Miyeon stopped entirely. A smile crept up on her face, finally satisfied with your response. You’ve happily lain in the trap she set.

“Oh? I thought this was wrong, Mr. Chastity?” Miyeon quipped, arrogantly keeping you and your orgasm in check and in her hand.

Your dry throat failed to even croak out a response. You felt the adrenaline rush to your veins as you stared at Miyeon, her beady eyes staring right back at you. Her fingertips would graze your tip lightly, making you wince and twitch at the unfair situation. You saw the malevolent creature residing behind Miyeon’s eyes, a force of pure lust and sex, torturing you slowly and methodically. 

“Well? I should stop now, right?” Miyeon’s tongue flicked along your lips. The serpentine seductress, under the guise of pursed lips and innocent shrugs, established the standstill you found yourselves in.

Miyeon’s nails travelled up your length, leaving one-by-one, finally departing your steaming rod, your orgasm now drifting further and further away. 

Miyeon relented. “Alright then. I’ll stop. You’ve made your—”

Your hand shot down to grab Miyeon’s wrist. Desire surged in your temple, disconnecting once more your principles and morals. This time, you searched for the point of no return, craving that rush you felt when falling from it. 

You gulped as you stopped Miyeon, your hunger gradually growing and deepening. You wanted it. You needed it. So your hand tightened around Miyeon’s wrist, her fingers still wrapped around your length.

And you slowly jerked yourself off with Miyeon’s hand.

You pushed and pulled her palm along your cock, rubbing and grazing along the grooves of Miyeon’s hand. You leaned into her collar, slightly moaning as you thrusted in and out of her curled fingers. Thoughts of Minnie were long gone at that point. You shut your eyes as you buried yourself into the right side of Miyeon’s neck, focusing only on the pleasure. The taboo was part of the excitement now, the infidelity a mere thing of the past, and the guilt an aphrodisiac.

Miyeon chuckled. You felt her lips touch your right ear, giving you a small peck as she withdrew your hand from her wrist and placed it on her hips.

“Like this, baby?” the she-devil whispered, her hand twisting and stroking. 

You endured the goading with gritted teeth, stuck between wanting release and wanting to feel that pleasure forever. You nodded slightly. Miyeon did her very best to indulge you.

“You’re so big in my hand, baby. So fucking big.” Her low, alluring voice persisted in your ear while she stroked and pumped your shaft.

You moaned out a hot breath, hitting the hair on Miyeon’s neck, causing her to groan in your ear. Her fingers shifted, her grip changing, her speed picking up. Miyeon ran her thumb over the tip, now lathering pre-cum on her hand and down your shaft.

“Yeah, you like this baby? You like how I jerk you off? How I pump you, and stroke you, and please you? Fuck you’re so hard. So fucking big and hard for me. And it’s all mine.” 

Your wet cock twitched in Miyeon’s grasp, signalling your impending orgasm, arriving considerably quicker this time. Miyeon noticed, her strokes now building up faster and faster.

“You’re gonna fucking cum for me, baby? Yeah? Are you close, hmm? Oh baby, you’re fucking throbbing. You wanna cum all over my hand that badly? Cum all over my fingers while I jerk you off? God, shit, I’m so fucking wet. Go on, baby, yeah. Cum for me. Cum on my hand, baby. Come on. Give it to me. Give me every. Last. Fucking. Drop.”

You busted quick into Miyeon’s hand that morning. Streams of thick cum landed on her skin, the hot fluid staining and sullying her palm and some part of her thighs. You inhaled deeply, the exhaustion weighing on you more than you expected. You felt light-headed and drained. But ultimately satisfied.

Miyeon deliberately licked her palm in front of you, her eyes peeking and reappearing behind wet fingers. Her features stared evilly, the Devil having made her explicit point. The deal was set in stone now, the act binding both of you, your very soul as collateral. You stared at the dimple on her gorgeous cheek, wondering why it was there again. Or why it never seemed to leave. 

Miyeon gave you one last kiss on the cheek before finally exiting your embrace. You laid on your couch, tired, confused, and frustrated. You touched the cheek Miyeon kissed, red and blushing.

-

You never told Minnie. You couldn’t. 

The rest of the day went by as painstakingly slow as possible, sowing nervous seeds inside your mind as you anticipated a confrontation with your girlfriend. You expected a shout, or a slap, or a shove from Minnie when you saw her in the company later in the day. But it never came.

The guilt rotted your stomach the moment Minnie’s eye lit up as she ran to you for a hug. The same arms that bruised and groped Miyeon’s curves hugged Minnie as she wrapped herself around you. You kissed the top of Minnie’s head on instinct, your girlfriend replaced with the image of Miyeon’s naked body all bundled up against yours. You felt awful seeing Minnie’s smile, seeing just how deep the love she felt for you was. From then on, you vowed never to break her heart again. The thing with Miyeon was done, it meant nothing, and it will never be anything.

You didn’t stop Miyeon. You couldn’t.

Miyeon would grab any opportunity she could find just to meet you. A day off, a lunch break, a behind-the-scenes shooting, when the mood struck Miyeon, you’d know. The two of you would commit the ungodly act behind locked doors, closed spaces, and sometimes even secluded tunnels (a story for another time). Once you felt that familiar buzz from your phone, the blood would rush to your length, flexing in anticipation. It was like you were conditioned, a skewed, perverted Pavlovian experiment exploiting your baser instincts. 

Before you knew it, your feet were moving. You strode down long hallways, maneuvering and navigating any obstacles that stood in your way. Your speed shocked you at times, leaving you wondering just how intense your need was. You’d catch yourself looking for Miyeon even before she sent a text, finding her on her phone and being greeted with a sly smile. Your sexcapades were fiery, explosive, and mind-numbingly great that each promise you’ve told yourself never to come back was broken every single time. Miyeon knew how to get to you and pressure you just enough to make your resolve crumble. Then in just a flash, the clothes were off, your tongue on her blushed and sweaty cheeks, and your length deep inside her warmth.

“One…last…time.” Miyeon would usually gasp out as you fucked her. “Just one last time, baby.” She would coo between rough breaths.

Did you believe her? For a bit. But then you got used to it by your 5th “last time” with her. In a twisted way, each tryst with Miyeon makes you fuck her like it’s really the last time, inadvertently making her appetite unwavering, roaring, and never dormant. You would pound her needy cunt, giving your all (maybe even spraining a hip or two) in the hopes it would somehow reset a circuit in her brain and unlatch off you. Next thing you know, you’re on your 12th last time, gripping Miyeon’s sexy fucking ass as you plough her against the padded recording room.

-

“Did you turn off the camera?” Miyeon whispered in your ear as she held onto your broad shoulders.

Fuck. You remembered it was one of I-DLE’s behind-the-scenes vlogs for their promotion week. You froze as you carried her weight, slowly turning your head to the small Sony camera in the corner, its red recording dot blipping on and off.

Oh, motherfucker.

You quickly untangled your limbs from Miyeon’s and prepared to pull out when her graceful legs clung tighter around your waist. She ground against you, locking your meat inside her, as she held onto the sides of your face.

“No. Cum inside me on camera.”

“You can’t be serious,” you sputtered in disbelief.

“It’s not that hard to delete footage.”

“Yeah, it’s not that hard to turn a fucking camera off either,” you snapped back.

“So pull out then.”

There it was again– another dare. This was the game. The game where, unfortunately, Miyeon was pro. It was clearly your turn. 

And yet, nothing. Silence.

Miyeon took the chance to slowly pepper kisses on the side of your face, trailing all the way down your jaw and to your neck. Her fingers ran through your hair as her nails grazed your scalp, a wave of tingles, each running down your spine. You released an involuntary groan. 

Her lips closed in on your ear, giving the helix a long, slow, and taunting lick. Miyeon breathed out a moan in your ear and whispered. “C’mon then, baby. Pull out,” she coaxed feignedly.

Well? Pull out!, you thought. But you didn’t. You couldn’t. The world remained still, your girth still residing in her.

Fuck it. You gripped her body tighter as you slammed her back against the foam-padded walls of the recording studio. Your lips latched onto her collarbone as your teeth bit and purpled the skin. You rammed yourself back up into her warmth, your digits greedily coveting the curves of her ass and thighs.

The woman yelped in delight as she felt your renewed vigor, her grip on your hair tightening. Her other hand wrapped around you, welcoming you back into her pleasure, as her nails dug in and scratched your back. You gritted your teeth as you fucked her through the stings, gasps, and whimpers.

Always having the last word, Miyeon laughed out breathlessly, dimple on display, as you finished inside. 

“That’s what I thought.”

-

The work day ended a few hours after that illicit meeting. You stood alone in the cold Seoul night, the mist of your breath twisting and curling weightlessly.

“Finally! Let’s go.” Minnie exhaled as she skipped down the company building’s welcoming steps, her fuchsia puffer crinkling as she interlocked her arms with yours. Enveloped by a wool scarf, Minnie grinned at you. “C’mon!”

Both of you started your stroll down the tiled sidewalk, on the hunt for a quick bite before heading home. 

“You in the mood for soup?” you hummed. 

“Hmm…” Minnie put a quick finger to her cheek as she thought for a moment. 

“That’s cute,” you chuckled.

“What’s cute?”

“That,” you emphasized. “The whole face you’re doing.”

“Hey! This is my thinking face!” Minne put on a quick pout but relented. “Soup’s good for me, baby.” Minnie smiled, igniting a few embers in your heart, the heat rising to your ears as you blushed.

With soup on the agenda, you and Minnie sauntered down a busy street, looking through several shops and kitchens, hoping to find refuge from the winter bite.

Your phone vibrates. 

Typical of Cube, texting on the off-hours. You pulled your phone out, awaiting the familiar news of a scheduling conflict in your texts. Your right hand remained interlocked with Minnie’s. 

Miyeon.

Your smile immediately vanished, cheeks now lowered with a frown. You tapped the message open as you gulped down trepidation.

It was a video from the camera. That video. 

No. She wouldn’t. She wouldn’t dare, you thought.

And yet she did. That’s all she did. Dare. Vex. Rile.

Ignite.

You scrambled to dim the phone’s brightness with your left hand, panic setting in your nerves as, unbeknownst to her, your girlfriend looks for a suitable restaurant.

It was surreal, feeling your heart rattle and beat so loudly you felt it in your temple despite it sinking to your stomach. Your hand trembled, your thumb shaking as it hovered above the Play icon in the middle of the thumbnail, conveniently covering where you and Miyeon’s bodies connected intimately.

A second message pops up.

“You’re amazing, baby.”

You exhaled weakly, your phone now a ticking time bomb, ready to destroy everything good you had going on in your life.

You lost the spring in your step, Minnie’s voice now serving as background noise to your dread. A couple of mhmms and yeses were all you uttered, cognition clearly failing.

“Baby?”

You whiplash back into reality, to the task at hand — Minnie.

“No, yeah, that sounds great!” Your phone clicked as you turned it off. What was Minnie talking about?

“It’s fine.” Minnie smiles and chuckles dryly, waving it off weakly.

“No, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t pretend,” you admitted. “It’s just— there’s another scheduling conflict, I’m going to have to find another slot, and it’s just derailed this month’s activities,” you lied.

“I said it’s fine, baby,” Minnie started. “I know how stressful it is.”

Minnie nodded and looked up as pale light drenched her features, exquisitely sculpting her face. You hurriedly put an arm around Minnie, rubbing her shoulder, desperate to get back on her good side.

Minnie stared up into the sky. 

“The moon’s extra bright tonight, huh?”

Dinner tasted more guilt than soup that night.

-

So, now you’re reminiscing on a Saturday. You never fully talked to Miyeon for a good 2 weeks after that video incident. The whole week was simply clock in, do your work, have it checked, then clock out. Hell, the only conversation you had with Miyeon was working out a hair and make-up slot, never about anything else. Never about dramas, food, or even the weather.

Never about you two.

And so you guys never met up.

Well, she had hit up your phone every once in a while, whenever the mood seemed to strike her. But every time her name popped up on that phone screen, you’d seize up, frozen and palpitating. Then you would start hyperventilating.

 And then eventually, you would get mad.

Mad at Miyeon? Oh yeah, definitely. It’s that type of flashbulb mad — just instantaneous irritation with her. You’d think about her the whole time — her face, the meetings, that dimple — and you’d just fume. And so you worked, and worked, sublimating those intense feelings you harbored (ironically, you received a pat on the back from a higher-up for being so efficient, too).

It was the same for Minnie. With a comeback in mind, Soyeon needed to write a couple of songs to build up their concept. Minnie volunteered and has been taking the time to write her song. You’d check in on her once in a while, but knowing Minnie, she’d already hyper-focused and was immune to any form of distraction.

Looking back, you probably needed that routine of simply working. That cycle of mundane reset a circuit in you, as the once dysregulated nervous system now settles down, with signals and impulses not firing on all cylinders. You liked having everything under control — just smooth, smooth sailing. The next thing you know, it’s finally 5. Laptop in your bag, computer turned off, you locked up your office and took the elevator down.

You shot Minnie a quick text before taking a cab home.

“I’m heading home, baby. How’s the song?” you asked.

“The song’s coming along great so far, just a few tweaks for Soyeon, and then it’ll be done. Will work a bit late, so be safe, okay?”

“I will. Text me when you get home.”

You click your phone shut, grab a taxi, and head home. 

Jingling your keys, you round the corner of the apartment complex, bounding towards your door.

Clad in a sleek black satin nightdress, the Devil leaned on the wall just beside your door. Her dark brown hair cascaded down her cheeks and curving off her shoulders, framing her face but covering her neckline greedily. Her smooth thighs and toned legs extended out from the dastardly short hemline, scarlet red stilettos making her a tad bit taller. Hearing you fumble for your keys, her eyes met yours as soon as you turned the corner, her predatory gaze glinting for a split second.

“Hey,” she coos with a slight tilt to her head, dimple already showing.

Your heart races as your jaw tightens.

“You shouldn’t be here,” you manage to croak out.

Her stilettos tap the hallway as she approaches you. You observe her subtle sashay, both of her legs eager to catch your attention. She stops just a few inches in front of you, her sharp features now coming into full view. 

“I just wanted to see you,” she puts on a faux pout.

“You crossed a line.”

“Oh boo-hoo, I’ve sent you things before,” she taunts.

“I was with her, Miyeon.”

The intensity of leer eases, eyebrows slowly backing off. “I…I didn’t know.”

“Oh fuck that.” You push past her and unlock the door, physically putting that conversation away and refusing to indulge her any further.

It seems you weren’t too quick, as Miyeon adeptly puts a palm on the door, effectively letting herself in, eager to keep up the tirade.

“I swear, I didn’t know,” she pipes up. “I would never do that to her, you know that.”

“And yet you did!” you rebut. You never raised your voice at Miyeon, not even if you got mad. But not this time. You were furious. You were heated, and it’s all been bubbling up till now. Heat rose from your core as it seeped through your face.

“You did! You sent that video, the same stupid video I told you to get rid of!” You raise a finger, gaining momentum to say more, but quickly shake your head. “I should have deleted it then,” you mutter.

The woman breathes slowly, her eyes slightly watery. “I didn’t know…” Miyeon whimpers.

“You know what? That is your problem, Miyeon– you never know! You don’t stop to think and know, you just do!” you argue. 

“Which is why we’re here in the first place,” you add under your breath.

She stares at you in shock, speechless, obviously hurt. Even in the middle of your quaint interior design and weak apartment lighting, she looked eerily breathtaking. Your heart aches.

Miyeon opens her mouth to speak, but hesitates. She thinks for a moment before replying, eyebrows stern now.

“You don’t get to put this all on me,” Miyeon says.

“Excuse me?”

“You don’t get to put this all on me. You’re in this just as much as I am.” Miyeon says matter-of-factly.

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

“Oh, this is so you. So what, you’ve just been fucking me all this time because I told you to?” Miyeon crossed her arms.

You’re taken aback, unable to reply.

“Oh, baby. I’ve always given you an out.” Miyeon closes the distance and leans in to whisper. “You’ve just never taken them.”

Miyeon quickly backs off and shrugs. “I’m not saying I’m an angel, but I’m not all devil, baby.” Her eyes flash briefly as she says that.

“Oh that is such bullshit, Miyeon, you know that.”

“Is it? You’ve come onto me just as much as I’ve come onto you— metaphorically and literally,” she barks.

“It’s just…It’s you! Who can say no when you’re grinding yourself on me and whispering into my ear?”

“Please have some level of accountability.” Her words drip with condescening weight. “It’s not my fault a different head does the thinking for you.”

“You can’t be serious…”

Miyeon shrugs and turns around,  deciding to take a stroll around your apartment, taking in the various pictures and decorations. You stay planted in where you stood.

After a quick circle around the room, Miyeon saunters back over to you. “So,” she clicks her tongue. “Here’s what I think. I’m obviously hurt by what you said, so I’m gonna need an apology,” Miyeon quipped. “And make it good.”

“Fuck you.”

“That’s kinda the idea, baby.” Miyeon quips as she stares up at you with a cocky smirk. 

Seeing your unshifting gaze, she rolls her eyes and lets out a defeated sigh. 

“We’ve already had this argument a hundred times. You have won none of those. So save me the white knight act and fuck me,” She gives your cheek a few light slaps, finally getting her adorable pet to obey. “Hm, baby?” 

Your face is inches from hers as you continue to stare at her.

You exhale, steeling yourself, as you crouch down to pick her up.

Miyeon yelps as she laces her arms around your neck, grabbing onto your shoulders. You grip her legs tightly as you carry her to your room.

With a bit of fiddling, you open the door hurriedly. You throw the woman on the bed, her hair splayed widely but still, somehow, some way, picture perfect. She looks up at you and giggles lightly. You quickly unbuckle and throw your pants off as you kneel close to Miyeon. With rough hands, you harshly spread her legs to rip her underwear off. Your brusque movements catch Miyeon off guard as she squeals. 

“Hey! C’mon, slow down.” She chuckles as she grasps your arm, attempting to stop you.

You pin her arms back down on the bed, shaking off her suggestion. Miyeon’s forehead scrunches as you manhandle her. You finally roll her panties off and throw them to the side. You come in closer, preparing to enter her.

“Hey!” Miyeon protests. “I said slow down.” Her eyes pleaded, the tinge of seduction now gone.

“You wanted it good, right? Well, this is it. This is good,” you bark back, chest heaving up and down now, heart beating faster. You lean in and start kissing her neck, leaving a few bites here and there.

Miyeon squirms a bit, uncomfortable. “I’m serious, stop.”

You sit back up. “What now?” you snap. You stare down at her for a few silent seconds. Your grip on Miyeon’s arms slackens.

She takes this moment to lower her arms back down. She sits up from under you and places a hand on your cheek. Warm. Sweet.

“Hey,” she softens, voice soothing now. Miyeon somberly tilts her head, finding your gaze.

You crumble. You lean your head into her hand, and you close your eyes.

Miyeon sees this and slowly pulls your head in, arms wrapping around you in a serene hug. You sniff. Green apple.

With a hand supporting the back of your head, and the other rubbing up and down your back, Miyeon croons. “Shh, it’s okay.”

Both of you hold each other, not speaking or moving, just breathing.

You traded your apartment walls for Miyeon’s arms, finding comfort in her seclusion as you vanish within her. There it is again– both of you drifting off into space, stars zooming past as you embrace for what seems like a million light-years. Both of you floated, lingering and enveloping one another. Your heart pounded.

Miyeon was the first to pull back– not out of dislike, but to look at you finally. She cups your chin and raises your head. Her eyes sparkle as she gets you to look at her back. 

There it was. Again. You picked up on the familiar depth to her gaze, those layers upon layers of unknown. What was that?

You nod and slowly place her hands down, your pulse just hammering away at your wrist. You scoot away from Miyeon and stare at her squarely. You needed to tell her.

And so you did.

“I used to have feelings for you, y’know.”

Your apartment walls come snapping back into place. You burn through the atmosphere and come crashing down, back onto your bed. You gulped down a piece of your nervousness and continued.

“Gosh, I liked you a lot, Miyeon,” you stammered. “I loved going to work because of you.”

Miyeon’s eyes widen, her gaze wanting to catch all of you in the moment. She stilled even more.

You push further. “You were just this bright person, Miyeon. You had this sort of warm light inside you that I couldn’t get enough of. Every room you went to, that light would just overflow, and I would drink it all up. Heck, I would listen to you talk on and on if it meant I saw that light every day.”

You choke up. “And I kinda did, y’know? We spent so much time together as friends, I guess I was fine burying whatever I felt for you. And I got used to that too– seeing you as a friend. But then…” You trail off. 

“Look, I didn’t mean to pin it all on you and just dodge the accountability. I could have stopped this anytime, too. I’m sorry,” you continue. “Anyway, I have to tell Minnie, too.” You recollect for a bit and chuckle sadly to yourself.

“Why are you telling me this?” Miyeon mumbles, a slight quiver in her voice.

You start sniffling as you pinch your nose. You chuckle a bit. “It’s so stupid. I’m okay with being friends. But this…” You gesture to both of you. “I can’t anymore.”

The woman before you remains silent, nodding in understanding. She fixes the strap of her nightdress, the one lowered by your prior advances, as she stares back at you.

You continue. “Every time I look at you, I just seize up. Every time our eyes meet, I just melt,” you sigh as you slowly stand up to fix your clothes and some of the scattered pillows.

“Despite everything, Miyeon..” you start. “The secret meetings, the dumb conversations– the wrongness of it all. Even if I vow to stay away and never talk to you ever again– even then– I’m positive I’ll always be yours.”

“What...?” Miyeon tries to speak up, only releasing a small whisper.

You begin to ramble. “It’s you, Miyeon. It’s you. I wanted the whole thing with you– the real thing. I fucking wanted it desperately. Oh God, but when I saw you beam just being friends, I couldn’t do that to you. Fuck, I know, I know. It’s an easy cop-out, this whole ‘white knight’ routine, but seeing you happy made me happy,” you whine. “So we can’t do this anymore, this…this shit. I wanted this to be real so bad– the things we did, the kissing, the staring, the hugging. Because, in a way, it felt like that: real. But it’s not. I don’t wanna lie and just fuck– I can’t do that to you. I can’t settle for just a part of you; I need all of you. That sounds so fucked up to say, and I know it’s too late, and everything’s just fucked now, and there’s still Minnie, but I am absolutely in lo—”

Miyeon lunges forward to capture your lips in a kiss. You melt into her.

Both of you broke apart as Miyeon leaned back to look at you. She whispered, smiling at you softly with both hands on your face. 

“Me too, me too.”

The subtle light of your lamp to the side bounces off Miyeon’s gaze, two pools of twinkling space just locked on yours. Her touch is care, your face cradled between appreciative thumbs, stroking your cheek. There was a newfound tenderness in her grasp– arms and fingers that caressed, yet also safeguarded. 

That’s when it clicked. The thing that lingered– you see it now, ever clear. It was always there; in the first few seconds your eyes met when the work day started, whenever you caught her observing you while you worked– hell, the first time you fucked it was there. It was always there.

It was always there in your eyes, too.

“You’re dazzling,” the woman whispers. “You’ve always been dazzling to me.”

“So all this time…?”

“I’m yours. I’ve always been yours, you fucking idiot,” Miyeon sighs defeatedly while biting the corner of her lip, staring at you, analyzing. “I waited for so long, too. I should have just told you then what I felt, instead of letting it get to, well, this. I’m sorry I got carried away…I didn’t mean to pressure you, or manipulate you, or anything! It’s just— I just took what I could get…” she lamented softly with a shake of her head. 

Both of you hang onto each other, suspended in liminality, unsure of what to do next but not wanting to move either. Miyeon broke the silence first.

“I’m not letting you go…” she admits.

“I know,” you nod in response. “But, we have to tell Minnie.”

Miyeon solemnly nods in agreement, committing to confess alongside you. She sat there in front of you, drawing circles on the palm of your hand, touching you tenderly. “I’m not a bad person…” she wanes.

Miyeon laughs— the same weak and futile laugh, buffering but betraying a deep sadness and the arrival of tears. The same heart that beat for you, ached at the wrong she’s done to Minnie, her bandmate, her sister.

You pull up her palms and place them on your shoulders, scooting her waist a bit closer as you hold her tight. “I know…I know you aren’t,” you say with a kiss on top of her head — the same kiss you hesitated on before, finally finding its home.

Eons pass by as you soothe her, fingers riding up and down her lithe back, dipping between curves and running through her waves of hair. It feels unreal how a change in context, a shift in tides, a confession of love makes even physical contact with Miyeon so intimate. You cradled royalty, you saw golden hour, you kissed lightning, and you breathed her eternity. This feeling lingered beneath both your skins, a new kind of intimacy, but one you’ve felt like you’ve known forever.

Miyeon, now a little bit calmer, looks up at you to give you a quick peck. You kiss back. She does too. The atmosphere soon shifts as her fingers tighten in your hair. Her teeth graze your lower lip as she leans back.

 Her dimple reappears. Of course it does, you thought.

The she-devil makes a grand entrance of heat and green apple. Miyeon’s eyes sparkle with a growing hunger, a smirk slowly forming.

“Don’t you owe me an apology?” she asks innocently, pout and dimple plastered on her devilish features.

You click your tongue sternly. “We have to tell Minnie. Now.”

“And we will. Just…maybe, possibly, after a couple of minutes?” she looks up, coyly.

You stare down at her in your arms, thinking.

“Let me have you, finally have you. Without all the extra bullshit,” she pleads.

Miyeon thinks for a bit. “But you can tell me no, too. I won’t…I-I’m not, I’m not like that. I won’t be like that anymore.”

You lean in to kiss her. “Okay, baby,” you say, giving her a reassuring smile. You kiss her one last time, taking a tad bit longer, electricity running through the contact.

As your lips dance, Miyeon runs a nail up from your throat to your jawline, eliciting a groan from you. She leaves you open-mouthed, her tongue prodding yours lightly— teasing you before diving back in.

You run both your hands down her smooth nightie and stop at the small of her back, lingering, asking permission.

Miyeon smiles through a kiss. “Go ahead, baby.”

You venture downwards and lift the hem of her nightdress up, exposing the plump curves of her asscheeks. You squeeze both, gripping them as you bring her crotch closer to yours. Miyeon sat on top of you, moaning as your fingers clenched and groped. Sensing what you wanted, the woman rolled her hips for you, grinding her already wet slit against your bulge. Both of you moan in unison, breath colliding as you melded closer and closer, grinding and humping each other, two gluttons for more physical intimacy. Your hips buck up a bit, driving your bulge roughly against Miyeon’s soaking pussy, making her mewl and cry out.

“I missed you,” Miyeon says with an inhale of your musk. She grabs the hair on the back of your head, tilting you upwards as she grinds on you deeper. She takes this moment to lick from your Adam's apple all the way up to your chin, her hot breath coating your neck. Her other hand leaves your cheek and travels sneakily between your bodies, finding your straining bulge. Her slender fingers wrap around your tent, stroking and rubbing you through the material. Her thumb finds your frenulum, lightly running circles just underneath your tip. Tingles shoot down from your neck as you groan involuntarily.

“Stand up, baby,” Miyeon says with a lick to your earlobe. “I need to taste you.”

You tongue Miyeon’s gasping mouth one last time before finally unwrapping yourself from her limbs. You stand at the foot of the bed with your erection poking through your shorts and pointing at the she-devil now laying on her stomach, looking up at you with eyes that seek only one thing: to consume. The once brief flashes of flame that flickered in her soul were now raging infernoes that were set loose instead of reigned in by calculated control. Your shaft strained against the confines, flexing in anticipation of Miyeon’s mouth and tongue, seemingly magnetized by the impending paradise and the promise of release.

You pull your shorts down immediately, finally exposing your stiffened cock, shaft pulsing with strength. Miyeon looks up at you with open-mouthed breaths and wraps her fingers around the base. Your knees buckle slightly and you groan as she finally holds you, stroking slowly, gauging your reactions, moaning as she feels how aroused you currently are for her. Her warm exhales only make your cock flex and wince even more, your shaft straining as it pleads to be licked and wrapped in her soft, slick, and warm mouth. Miyeon, having had enough of stroking, tilts your dick upwards and catches your gaze, daring you to watch what she does next.

You watch her head slowly lean in at the base of your cock and she licks all the way to the tip.

You almost orgasm as her slick spit offers a different sort of sensation that makes something inside you bolder, hungrier, greedier. Your hands immediately hold onto her hair as she looks up at you, gaze alternating between a faux “Am I doing this right?” and a deep sentience that screamed “Look at what you’re making me do”. Your fingers curl and lock around Miyeon’s hair as the pleasure picks up, her head now bobbing and moving up and down your length, eager to show you just how much absence has made her heart grow fonder. You reciprocate by closing your eyes, cutting off the visual information to enhance the senses that fired as Miyeon deepthroated you, and driving your cock deeper into her mouth, riding along her flicking tongue. With a groan, Miyeon pops your meat out from her lips, a thin stripe of spit extending between, and then takes your balls into her mouth. Her soft hand jerks your cock as she pays each of your testicles her dues.

“God, fuck, Miyeon…”

“Yeah? Does that feel good, baby? You like it when I stroke your huge fucking cock like this, baby, hm?” she coos in between strokes now, her pace quickening as she twists her hand whenever she approaches the base.

“Yes, fuck, yes, please, oh fuck,” you manage to groan out, overcome with waves and waves of pleasure as your cock is stroked and swallowed in turns. “Keep going, baby, please.”

“Oh my poor baby, missing my touch like this,” Miyeon whispered as her eyes kept staring at you, overwhelmed and overstimulated. She opens up again and wraps her lips around the head, tongue circling just underneath the tip. Miyeon gags as she takes you in, cheeks puffing as she breathed through the deepthroat.

Miyeon expertly works your whole length through her mouth, licking and enveloping your shaft in tight velvet, all while looking up at you indulging yourself. You fuck her mouth a few more times before feeing that slight tremble of orgasm. Your tip grazes the back of her throat again, prompting her to gag and groan out. Your mind dulls and your hips piston in and out, driving your erection into more uncharted territory, greedily chasing a release Miyeon felt in the pulse of your vein.

You pull out for a bit. “I’m gonna—“

“On my fucking face!” she gasps out. 

You obey as you thrust back in a few times, chasing the last few seconds before pulling out. Miyeon’s hand is on you in an instant, stroking your spit-lathered cock, aiming it at her face.

“Come on baby, let it out for me. Oh baby, please let it out. Cum for me, cum all over my face, baby. Oh, you’re so fucking big in my hand, baby. Fuck, I feel it coming. Cum for me, baby, please?” The she-devil riled you with glazed eyes, an open mouth, and a pink tongue flattened, ready to be blessed.

You feel a tightening in your balls as Miyeon stroked your cock for you, jerking you off with both hands now. Your breath hitches for a moment, your orgasm coming harder than you expected. You groan out in overwhelming pleasure as Miyeon rests the tip of your dick on her tongue. White spurts stain her pink tongue, shooting out over the surface and some into her mouth. Your cock fires off more, landing on her cheek and her forehead. Miyeon gasps out in surprise, a stray load splattering on her jaw and up across her left eyelid. She settles for a bit, breathing hard, eyes still looking up at you. 

Then her hand strokes again.

“Give me one more, baby, please…”

She picks up speed this time, jerking your semi-erect cock. You’re spent, but something about this alluring woman seems to stir something deep inside you, something primal that bypasses your refractory period. You feel that same pressure rising from your balls as your thighs clench. Miyeon gives a few enthusiastic licks to your tip, her voice lowering as she works for your building release. 

“That’s it, baby. Cum for me one more time, baby, hm? Okay, baby? Can you do that for me? You’re gonna cum for me one more time, okay? Fuck, I can feel you pulsing in my hand. Ooh, baby, just one more. Just one more for me, baby, please.”

You let out a deep, guttural moan as the rushing feeling travels out of your wincing cock, one last big load jetting out and painting Miyeon’s cum-coated lips and tongue. Miyeon moans out as you grip her hair to pull her closer to your cock. Your orgasm weakens as you grip your shaft, rubbing the wet tip all over her cheeks and jaw, her eyes closed as she lets you use her to ride out the final throes of your pleasure. Your cock finally rests as Miyeon’s tongue catches its final white drops. She gives a few licks, cleaning your tip as your breathing finally settles down.

She looks up at you, with this oddly-sticky-but-ethereal glow and blush that just seems to pull on your heart strings. Was it weird? A bit, seeing as her cheeks bore all the markings of your love. But it was her— and by God did you love her. So you told her. 

“I love you.”

“Oh, thanks, I bet you do, Mr. Chastity-Cums-Alot.” She rolls her eyes with a dimpled grin and a snort.

“Oookay, man. I was being genuine.”

Miyeon’ shotgun laughs at your dry response. You grab a nearby towel (exactly for moments like this), drying off the excess load she didn’t willingly lick or reach for.

She rubs off her cheek and fixes the locks of her hair, staring back up at you with twinkling eyes, her dimple showing itself alongside her devilish grin.

“I love you too.” Miyeon reciprocates warmly.

I always have, her dimple says. All this time.

Her words pass on through your already-melted resolve and fills this Miyeon-shaped gap in the walls you’ve built. Unbeknownst to you, you’ve already done the same for her.

You guys just fit.

“Your cock is still out.” Miyeon, sensing a lull in the moment, flicks the underside of your meat with a sneaky chuckle.

“Ow! What the hell!”

-

“You sing the chorus with her?” you asked.

“I do,” Miyeon bites a nail, nervous and all quiet. You click your tongue as you lower her finger from her mouth.

“And she’s written all the lyrics to it?” you pressed.

“Well, Soyeon’s helped a bit, but it’s really all her.”

“Is it about…?”

“You haven’t listened to it?”

“No.”

It was Miyeon’s turn to click her tongue. She pulls up her phone and gives you an earbud.

You scroll through their newly-finished “I burn” EP and click play on MOON.

[authorhjk1]

https://www.reddit.com/r/miyeon/s/cO3QI9bsUG

Will this pass for your colour series??

Cheap White

(G-idle's Miyeon X Male Reader) Wordcount: 1256 words

You stand backstage. The crowd still echoes through the walls like a distant heartbeat. The air smells of sweat and stage smoke, mixed with the faint floral perfume that always clings to Miyeon. She's just finished her performance, her white dress shimmering under the dim lights - cheap chiffon layers ruffled like a forgotten wedding cake, studded with fake crystals that catch the glow from the equipment cases. The strapless top hugs her chest, pushing up her small, perky breasts, and the skirt flares out short, barely covering her thighs. Black boots climb her legs, and that silly leather hat perches on her head, her long black hair cascading down like ink. She looks like a doll, your doll, ready for whatever you want.

Miyeon spots you leaning against a flight case, her lips forming an excited smile. She saunters over, microphone still dangling from her hand.

"Oppa."

She purrs, her voice breathy from the performance, eyes wide and innocent even though you both know she's anything but. As your free use slut, she lives for this. Any time, any place, no questions. You own her body, and she thrives on it.

You don't waste words. Your hand shoots out, grabbing her wrist, pulling her close. She gasps softly, but her body melts against yours. The dress rustles as you press her back against the cold metal of the case. Her hat tilts, but she doesn't fix it. Instead, she tilts her head back, exposing her neck, waiting for your touch. You lean in, lips brushing her ear.

"On your knees.”

She obeys instantly, dropping down without hesitation. Her knees part slightly as she settles. The white skirt pools around her. Her hands reach for your belt, unbuckling it with ease. You watch her, the way her tongue darts out to wet her lips, eyes locked on yours. She pulls down your zipper, freeing your cock, already hard from just looking at her in that ridiculous outfit.

Miyeon wraps her hand around your shaft, stroking slowly at first, her grip firm but teasing.

"You like me like this, don't you?"

Her voice is a mix of playfulness and need. You nod, threading your fingers through her hair, knocking the hat off, making it tumble to the floor. She leans forward, her mouth opening wide, tongue flat as she takes you in. The warmth envelops you, her lips stretching around your length. She bobs her head, sucking with that perfect rhythm she knows you love, her cheeks hollowing out. Saliva drips from the corners of her mouth, smearing her glossy lipstick, but she doesn't stop. You thrust gently, feeling the back of her throat, and she gags just a little, eyes watering, but she pushes deeper, eager to please. Miyeon's yours, her mouth a wet, tight heaven. You grip her hair tighter, guiding her pace faster now. She moans around your cock, the vibration sending jolts through your body. Her free hand slips under her skirt, touching herself, but you pull her head back sharply.

"No. That's mine too."

She whimpers, nodding, her hand dropping away. You pull out of her mouth, making her whine in disappointment. She looks up, waiting for what’s next. You haul her up by the arms, spinning her around to face the case. She braces herself, palms flat on the lid, ass pushing back toward you instinctively. The dress hikes up easily. It's so short, so cheap, perfect for this. Underneath, she's bare, no panties, just like you told her to be tonight.

You slide your hand between her thighs, finding her already soaked. Your fingers tease her folds, circling her clit, and she bucks against you, a soft cry escaping.

"Please…"

You don't make her wait. Positioning yourself, you thrust in, filling her in one smooth motion. She's tight, always so tight, her walls clenching around you like a vice. You grab her hips, the fabric bunching under your fingers, and start pounding.

Miyeon arches her back. Her head falls forward. The dress's layers flutter with each slap of skin on skin. You reach around, yanking down the top of her dress, exposing her breasts. They bounce with your rhythm, nipples hard in the cool air. You pinch one, rolling it between your fingers, and she moans louder, pushing back to meet your thrusts.

"Harder, oppa. Use me."

You do. Your pace quickens, the sound echoing in the dim space. Sweat beads on her skin, making the white fabric cling translucently. You slide a hand up her thigh, over the boot, then back to her ass, spanking lightly. She yelps, clenching tighter. The free use agreement means no limits. She's your toy, and tonight, in this backstage chaos, you take full advantage.

Pulling out suddenly, you turn her around again, lifting her onto the case. Her legs wrap around you, boots digging into your back. You enter her again, deeper this time, her arms around your neck, nails scratching your shoulders. Her face is close, lips parted, eyes half-lidded. You kiss her roughly, tasting her lust on her tongue, and she kisses back hungrily, like she's starving. You thrust up, hitting that spot inside her that makes her moan. She breaks the kiss, head thrown back, crying out.

"Oppa!”

She whines, body shaking. You feel her pulsate around you. It pushes you over the edge. You pull out just in time, stroking yourself, cuming onto her thigh and the white dress. The cum stains the fabric, marking her as yours, cheap and ruined.

Miyeon slumps against you, breathing heavy, a satisfied smile on her lips. She picks up her hat, placing it back on her head at a jaunty angle.

Later, in the green room, the rest of the group jokes around a little, but Miyeon's eyes keep flicking to you. You sit on the couch, patting your lap. She perches there without a word, her back to your chest. Under the skirt, your hand sneaks up, fingers dipping into her still wet pussy. She bites her lip, stifling a moan as you finger her slowly, thumb on her clit. The others don't notice. Or if they do, they pretend not to. She's yours, after all.

She grinds subtly, riding your fingers, her breath quickening. You add a second finger, curling them, and she grips your arm, nails digging in.

"Quiet."

She nods, but a small whimper escapes. You speed up, feeling her tighten again. She cums quietly, shuddering in your lap, juices coating your hand.

The drive home is tense. In the back of the van, tinted windows hiding you, she straddles you without prompting. The dress hikes up, and she sinks down onto your cock, riding you slow at first, then faster as the road bumps jostle you both. Her breasts bounce free again, and you suck on a nipple, biting gently. She gasps, hands on your shoulders, hips rolling. The van's motion adds to it, every turn pushing you deeper. You thrust up, meeting her, and she cums again, soaking your lap.

At home, the door barely closes before you bend her over the kitchen counter. The hat falls off again, rolling away. You flip up the skirt, spanking her ass red, then slide in from behind. She's exhausted but eager, pushing back.

"More."

She pleads.

You pound into her until you both collapse.

In bed, she curls against you, the stained dress discarded on the floor.

"Good night, oppa."

She murmurs, but even as she drifts off, her hand reaches for you, ready if you want more.

[cupupine]

⠀ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ★ㅤㅤㅤ無 ㅤㅤMONO⠀ ∕٫ ⠀ONLY

⠀⠀ ⠀他 ⠀𝖸𝖮𝖴ㅤㅤ•ㅤㅤ𝖻𝗈𝗋𝗇 ㅤ𝗍𝗈 ㅤ𝗅𝗈𝗏𝖾ㅤ

ᆞ ⠀♡ ⠀⠀𝗇𝗈𝗐 ⠀⠀⠀ 𝗆𝗎𝗍𝖾 ⠀⠀⠀ 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋⠀⠀⠀ 마음

【 ⠀ 𝖧𝖤𝖠𝖱𝖳𝖡𝖤𝖠𝖳⠀ : ⠀〔 심장 박동〕 ⠀ ♰ ⠀𝖲!𝖭𝖦⠀ | ⠀𝖲𝖮𝖭𝖦 〗

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ 의미⠀ (S⊥IH ﹖𝖫𝖮𝖴𝖣𝖤𝖱 ⠀의미 있는 ﹙♰﹚

𝐈.  (2.30 AM: HAYWIRE ) 𝖸𝗈𝗎 𝗇𝖾𝖾𝖽𝗇'𝗍 𝖿𝗋𝖾𝗍, 𝗇𝗈𝗋 𝗌𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖿𝖾𝖾𝗅 𝗅𝗂𝗄𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗁𝖺𝗏𝖾 𝗍𝗈 𝖼𝗁𝖺𝗇𝗀𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗈𝗐𝗇 𝗁𝖺𝖻𝗂𝗍𝗌. | V.O by J’ Segment 05—21.

𝐈𝐈. 𝖡𝗎𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗌𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽 𝗄𝗇𝗈𝗐 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍  ⛧ 𝗀𝖾𝗇𝗎𝗂𝗇𝖾 𝗎𝗇𝖽𝖾𝗋𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗇𝖽𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖼𝖺𝗇 𝗈𝗇𝗅𝗒 𝖻𝖾 𝖿𝗈𝗎𝗇𝖽, 𝗇𝗈𝗍 𝗌𝗈𝗎𝗀𝗁𝗍. \  我想我爱上你了 这种感觉一直在增长.

XVI. 𝗅𝖺 𝗇𝗎𝗂𝗍, 𝗆𝖺 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝖿𝗂𝖽𝖾𝗇𝗍𝖾

𝗅'𝖾𝗍𝖾𝗋𝗇𝖾𝗅𝗅𝖾  92 ,  𝖽𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖾𝗎𝗋

𝖽'𝖺𝗆𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖾𝗍 𝖽𝖾 ㅤ၄၄ㅤ𝖽𝖾𝗌𝗂𝗋.

𝗎𝗇 𝗍𝖾𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍 ㅤ∕٫  𝗌𝖼𝗂𝗇𝗍𝗂𝗅𝗅𝖺𝗇𝗍 당신이 되라

[valentinedrifter]

Snippets with Miyeon: Vows

male reader x Cho Miyeon

~3.6k words

A/N: Prompt for @dotoliwrites. Thank you so much for hosting!

Fanprose link here.

Enjoy.

When the words—

“Do you wanna get married tonight instead?”

Are the first thing you hear after waking up today, you can’t help but reply with—

“What brought this on?”

You groggily walk up to Miyeon, arm wrapping around her waist and giving her a peck on the lips. “Good morning, by the way.”

“Good morning, dear.” Miyeon smiles into the kiss, leaning on you as she lowers the heat on the cooker. “Nothing, just thought it’d be a great day to get married today.”

“Miyeon.” You move to stand behind her, both arms around her waist now. Watching her crack some eggs on the pan, your head coming to rest on her shoulder. Taking a whiff of the morning scent of breakfast and Miyeon’s conditioner. “I thought you wanted to get married in February?”

“I do,” she replies, giggling when you leave a kiss on her neck. “But there’s this meteor shower happening tonight at the venue we were looking into and–” She places a lid on the pan, letting the egg cook. Her hands rest on your forearms as she leans back. “It'd be perfect, you know?”

“You are such a romantic,” you tease, poking her stomach and causing her to yelp in surprise. “All that’s left is breakfast in bed, and I’m sold.”

“I’ll be sure to do it next time then,” she shoots back, rolling her eyes at you with a smile. “Does that mean you’re saying no?” She gives you a slight nudge.

“Well…” You watch the eggs whiten, and you have to admit that her whole idea is enticing. Having to wake up everyday with the woman of your dreams knowing that you’re hers and she’s yours. To spend every waking moment enjoying life with Miyeon—your wife.

You can already picture it. More slow mornings in the kitchen, afternoons doing everything you two could ever want to do or nothing at all. Spending every possible waking moment with her, and ending them in her arms. Being able to call Miyeon home.

It’s the future you’ve seen, when you got down on your knees to propose that day. But the thought of being able to have that sooner rather than later?

“You know your parents would be pissed if we did,” you say casually, arms tightening their grip around her.

A smile slowly curves up her lips. “I’m sure they’ll get over it,” she easily replies, uncovering her pan. “I’m more worried about Sana.”

“I’m sure she’ll get over it,” you repeat, making Miyeon laugh.

“I don’t know.” She turns off the cooker. “She might hate us if we don’t tell her.”

“We can leave her a text.” You spin her around, and she’s wrapping her arms around your neck. “What time’s that meteor shower?”

“Around seven.”

Your eyes glance at the clock. “That’s in eleven hours.” 

“That’s enough time to get married.” She raises an eyebrow at you.

You’re thinking of what you need for it to happen. A witness or two, an officiant to get the both of you married, the venue to hopefully accept your last minute and get there in time if they do. The list seemed endless when you keep adding more thing to find—

“You’re thinking too hard, dear.” She interrupts your line of thinking with a boop on the nose. “Yes or no?”

“Let me get this straight.”

“Mhmm.”

“You want to elope.”

“Yep.”

“Tonight.”

“Yeah.”

“And you’re completely okay with that?”

“I was the one who suggested it.” She grins. “Of course I am.”

“Okay.” You take a deep breath, giving her hips a gentle squeeze. “Okay.”

“Okay as in you wanna do it?” She tilts her head, the grin on her face somehow getting larger by the second. “Or okay as in you don’t wanna do it?”

You only live once, you might as well live it without any regrets.

And getting married to Miyeon is something you’d never regret.

“Okay as in I will call the venue if they can get us a spot,” you answer, and she squeals in your arms, pulling you in for a kiss. You smile into it, warmth spreading around your body as she pours every bit of love from her lips to yours.

“Promise you won’t regret it,” she mutters into your lips, pulling away just a bit to tell you those three words that get you grinning. Ones that you return affectionately, leaning in for another short kiss.

“I’ll find our witnesses.” Another kiss, and her lips are so, so addicting.

“Is it Sana?” you ask, and all she does is giggle at you, the melody slightly muted when you press your lips against hers once more.

“She won’t know about it until she comes back from Japan,” Miyeon replies, giving you one last peck on the lips before she turns around. “Now, breakfast before marriage, dear.”

—

“And you’re sure they have an officiant?”

“It’s in their package,” you reply, stepping on the gas as you enter the freeway. “Spot to get married, the hotel’s officiant, a makeup artist, and a photographer all in one.”

“How good do they do makeup?” She’s typing on her phone as she asks, most likely talking with another friend of hers that can attend your wedding. “And the photographer–”

“Dunno, didn’t ask,” you tell her, signaling to the left. “I don’t speak makeup and cinematography.”

“Maybe I should’ve been the one talking to the venue.” Miyeon takes a glance at you with that teasing glint you always see from her.

“You were busy talking with Jiwon while packing.” You prop your elbow on the armrest. “I didn’t want to interrupt girl talk.”

“Jiwon–” The way she emphasizes her name makes you tense up. “Is going to be our witness for today.”

“God help us.” It's almost a reflex at this point, hearing that you'll be seeing Jiwon again. The last time had you accidentally traumatizing your cousin because she wouldn't stop talking to him about everything.

“Hey!” she chides, putting her phone down. “She's also making the trip to the venue. Alone, mind you.”

Your lips curl up a tad. “Think she’s already telling Sana we’re eloping?”

Her hand comes to rest on your arm, tenderly brushing her thumb across your skin. “I told her to keep it a secr–” Her phone begins to ring, and you don’t need to look to know who’s calling. “Oh no.”

And so the rest of the trip becomes a free podcast of Sana and Miyeon talking. 

For five. Fucking. Hours.

—

“You didn’t tell me you booked the suite!”

“Can’t exactly go to Puerto Rico last minute so I thought we’d make the most out of the place.” 

You’re locking the door as Miyeon begins exploring said suite, a luggage bag in hand. And you have to admit, the place is pretty good.

Well, that’s an understatement.

Great view, spacious, a bed that will inevitably be squeaking once Miyeon gets a hold of you and a hell of a lot of amenities—it’s the whole shebang and then some. You’re amazed that the hotel was offering it at such a discount but with everything that you told them you’re a tad bit grateful too.

Really makes you think what would happen if Miyeon did talk to them instead of you.

“Speaking of Puerto Rico–” She makes a spin to face you, her dress flaring out and the way her hair perfectly frames her face, paired up with how the light hits her just right makes her look completely ethereal.

And you’ve seen it all before; whether it was because she was wearing some designer dress, some casual look whenever you two go out on dates, or as she wakes up in your arms.

Yet you never get tired of seeing her look like such an angel.

“Should we book for next week?”

“If you think we can get a ride, why the hell not.” You’re placing down the remaining luggage by the main room, striding over to Miyeon and holding her by the waist. “We could go to Japan too. The cherry blossoms are in season.”

“Sana’s gonna crash our honeymoon if we do,” she giggles, arms around your neck, fingers giving your scalp a gentle scratch. The smile that crosses her features is a constant reminder of why you fell for the woman in your arms, and you can’t help but smile back. 

You let out a quiet chuckle. “What?”

“Nothing.” She shakes her head. “Just–” She bites her lip, and the action makes you squeeze her hips. “We’re really doing this, are we?”

“Hey, it was your idea,” you joke, causing her to laugh. “Unless you’re having second thoughts?” You’re almost afraid of her answer, but the instant she gave the back of your neck a light tap it all faded away.

“Of course not,” Miyeon replies, stepping closer to give you a peck. “I’ve never been more ready to be with you.”

Her words make your heart skip a beat, the small tears in her eyes make your palm rest on your cheek to wipe them away before they could fall. Your lips whisper her name, and she nuzzles her head against your hand. You can’t tell who said those three words first, or if you said them at the same time.

The only thing that matters right now is Miyeon—her lips on yours, soft and full and loving, your arms picking her up and carrying her to the bed. Hair all splayed around her as she falls on the soft mattress with a giggle.

“Dear, no,” she says with a laugh, yet she does nothing about you kissing her neck, her collarbone, your hands coming to play with the straps of her dress. “Save it for tonight.”

“We can squeeze a quick one in.” You pause to look up at her grinning face.

“You–” She pushes you away with a finger on your forehead. “Need to talk to the officiant. And I need to talk with the hotel to get Jiwon a room.”

You sigh. “Responsibilities.”

“Woe is us,” she adds, propping herself up. “Now up. Go and get everything ready for us.”

“So bossy today.” You’re rolling your eyes at her as you stand up. “At least talk to the photographer and makeup artist when you go down.”

“Not to worry, dear,” Miyeon blows you a kiss. “I’ll handle it.” She glances down to your crotch, and she gives you a smirk and a wink.

“I’ll handle that too tonight.”

—

“You said this spot is perfect for the meteor shower?”

“That’s what they said.”

There were a few people around to set up the ceremony when you and Miyeon arrived at the spot. You know it’s not as grand as Miyeon preferred it to be, but with how tight the timing was you can’t blame the hotel.

You're more worried about your vows than anything. And with time being a precious commodity today you need to squeeze it in somewhere before you see Miyeon walk down in her wedding dress.

“And it’ll be ready before it?”

“That is also what they said, yes.” You turn to her. “Relax, they know what they’re doing.”

“Okay, okay.” Miyeon takes a deep breath. “And the officiant?”

“Is the hotel’s sommelier,” you answer. “I’ve already talked to him, and he’s helping out with the legal papers to get everything sorted out.” You grab her hand, pulling it up to give it a kiss to alleviate her nervousness. “Is Jiwon here already?”

“She is!” She nods to the side. “The hotel was kind enough to give her a room for the night.”

“That’s great,” you say, already thinking up ways to repay the hotel for being so accommodating.

“Got to talk with the photographer too. And the makeup artist.” You don’t like how her face just glowed up when she brought up makeup. 

“Speaking of that—”

“I don’t need makeup.”

“You will wear makeup whether you like it or not.”

After getting dragged back to your room and Miyeon’s attempts at getting you to wear makeup, she’s gone ahead and called for backup. 

That being Jiwon and the makeup artist.

You’re outnumbered three to one, and you know you’re not going to win this fight. Resisting’s almost optional at this point, even.

But you’ll make sure that you at least go down swinging. 

“It’ll be a light touch up,” Miyeon says, crossing her arms. “You can take it off straight after the ceremony if you want, but you will wear makeup.”

“Come on guys.” You’re throwing your hands in the air. “It’s fine–”

“It is your wedding, mister,” Jiwon cuts you off. “You have to look your best.” She’s coming forward, hands on your shoulders as she walks you to the fated chair.

“I’m pretty sure I can look my best without makeup.” You try your best to resist, dragging your feet slowly and making Jiwon work for every step.

“Don’t make me do your makeup instead,” Jiwon threatens (you think, you don’t know if she’s bluffing or not).

“Do I need to be scared?” You turn to Miyeon, because, again, you’re not sure if Jiwon would turn you into a clown for your wedding or not.

“Dear,” Miyeon starts, coming to your other side to help Jiwon and giving you the puppy eyes that she knows will melt you. “Just get your makeup done and I promise I’ll repay you later.”

And you crumble fast.

“Ew,” Jiwon says, pulling away from the both of you. “T M fucking I, you two.”

Miyeon lets out a giggle while you laugh and shake your head.

“Fine, fine, I’ll get my makeup done.”

So much for going down swinging.

The makeup artist does nothing to deter all this, only giving you an apologetic look as you take a seat. You can’t blame them though.

You wouldn’t want to anger Miyeon and Jiwon at the same time too.

Well–

“Can I at least shower first before I do it?”

Maybe you want to. 

Just a teeny bit.

—

“Everyone else found out, by the way.”

Your fingers pause trying to secure a cufflink. “What happened there?”

“Jiwon–” That makes perfect sense. “–brought it up at our group chat an hour ago and now my phone won’t stop ringing.” You both take a glance at the nightstand, where both of your phones lay together. “I think Yuqi’s still calling me.”

Her phone lights up with her words, and sure enough someone—Yuqi—was calling her.

“You’d think Jiwon would’ve talked to her,” you chuckle, attention coming back to fix your cufflink. “Or has she?”

“I think they’ve resorted to voice messaging at one point,” she shrugs as she picks up one of her earrings. “I tried to explain it but I was showering and–” She makes a pointed glance at her phone. “I’m more focused on getting ready than talking right now.”

You smooth down your dress shirt. “Such priorities, princess.” 

“I’m surprised no one else on your side knows that we’re getting eloped.” 

“Only mom and dad know.” You take a pause. “And my boss, I guess.”

Miyeon giggles, glancing at you through the mirror. “Why does your boss know?”

“Cause I needed to tell him why I’m going on a week long leave on short notice.” You make quick work on tying your necktie. “Hee says congrats, by the way.”

“Tell him that I’m not sorry you’ll be gone for a week.” That draws out a laugh from you.

“Of course, princess.” You take a glance around, eventually landing on one of the luggage bags. “Where’d you put the suit jacket?”

“Closet.” She’s standing up to head to said closet, and you follow. “I had the staff steam it while we were out.”

She opens it up, and she reaches out to grab your jacket out from it to hand it to you. And you had to admit—

“White’s an odd choice for a guy getting married,” you comment, pulling it up to head level. “Thought it’d be more your thing.”

“Dear, I would love to wear a wedding dress,” Miyeon replies, taking another hanger out—a vest and a sleeveless dress shirt hanging from it—before closing the cabinet. “But we’re not exactly doing a conventional wedding so–” She makes a pose, vest over her chest to show you what she’ll be wearing for your ceremony. “I thought that I too shall wear a suit for our wedding. Besides, you’ve never used that white suit that I bought you yet, so I thought that this too is the perfect time to use it.”

You blink, envisioning what she’d look like in your head. It’s an odd thing to imagine, seeing her wear a suit of all things to what is the most important day of your lives. You’ve never even seen this woman wear one at all for the entire time you’ve known her. Although, with the epitome of beauty in front of you, it’s hard not to fill in the blanks.

Her figure wouldn’t be hiding underneath all those layers, seeing how that top only comes to cover just above her belly button. The pants she has on does little to hide the curve of her ass, and pair it up with the smile she has on and you are whipped for this woman.

“I know, I know,” she brags, walking back to the bed to place the pieces of clothing down to take her towel she’s used as a top off. A free taste of what tonight will bring. “It’d look amazing, wouldn’t it?”

“It’d look better on the floor.” Your mouth has a mind of its own sometimes. The words weren’t exactly a lie, either way. And while she has her back turned to you, you know in your heart that she’s rolling her eyes.

“Patience, dear.” She’s clipped her bra on before taking the shirt off the coat hanger to put it on her, the smooth expanse of her back hidden from your view. “Just a few more hours, and you’ll have me all to yourself.”

“I’m surprised you are this patient,” you comment, placing the hanger on to the closet handle to take the jacket off it. “We’d normally be by the bed at this point.”

Her laugh is music to your ears. “It’s not good to fuck the bride before her wedding.”

“That’s for seeing the bride.”

“Seeing, fucking–isn’t that the same thing, dear?”

You shake your head, letting out an amused scoff. “I think you might have your superstitions mixed up.”

“Well, whatever they are–” Miyeon’s leaning on the wall right next to you. And God, your imagination did not do her outfit justice because it looks so much more amazing seeing her this up close wearing it. “You get to fuck me after our wedding.”

She’s turned you towards her to adjust your tie, giving your chest a gentle pat. “And every other day after too, while we’re at it.”

“You say all this just before we go out there and I might not let you leave this room,” you say, holding the jacket in your arms as you let her do what she wants.

“That’d be funny,” she muses, taking the jacket from you and gesturing for you to turn around. “Last minute ceremony cancelled by a last minute quickie.”

Miyeon helps you put the jacket on, pulling it over your body. “You think the hotel would mind?” you ask, pulling the sleeves of your shirt as you face her.

“I think the hotel would be pissed.” She gives you a one over, biting her lip as she ‘appreciates’ what you’re wearing. “But it might be worth it when you’re looking like a hot piece of ass in that suit.”

“What happened to doing it after the wedding?” You throw the same argument back she’s using back against her, and her eyes roll, twinkling with amusement.

Miyeon tilts her head, a lock of hair covering part of her face. “We still can.” Her hands come to toy with your belt, which is always a good sign when it comes to her. “But if I only suck your cock, does it still count as fucking?”

Oh, semantics, you wonderful idea.

Before you can ever agree with her line of thinking, a loud ring sounds off in your room, causing the both of you to look at the entrance. Knocking follows it shortly after, and you can vaguely hear someone shouting your names over the door.

“Jiwon?” you ask over your shoulder, eyes still looking at the hallway.

Miyeon sighs. “Jiwon.” She cups your cheek to make you face her. “What a shame, don’t you think?”

What a fucking shame, indeed. 

“It’s one way of getting us out of this room,” you smile, hands moving your belt around to alleviate your straining erection. “But we really should go out there.”

Miyeon nods, leaning in to give you a peck. “Love you, husband.”

You grin, ignoring the second ring of the doorbell to kiss her back. “Love you too, wife.”

“I like the sound of that,” she hums, pulling away to smooth her hair. A wink gets thrown your way before she begins to walk to the door. “Coming!”

A palm comes down to slap her ass as she passes by, and Miyeon replies with a promiscuous look. Enough to tell you that she’s excited for tonight just as you are.

Because soon enough you’ll be calling her your wife, and she’ll be calling you her husband.

You shake your head fondly, taking a deep breath and following Miyeon towards the door.

You’re already counting the seconds before you promise to be true to her in the good and bad, in sickness and in health. For richer or the poorer, for the better or worse, until death takes you apart.

Because Miyeon is all you need in this lifetime to be happy.

And if you ever find her again in another, you’d choose to fall in love with her all over again.

[miyeosin]

MIYEON ; i-dle (아이들) 'Crow' Performance Video

[meretmanons]

I-DLE ♡ MONO ENDING FAIRY (260205)

[nichuuu]

Paper Houses

Cho Miyeon x M reader

(1st instalment of The View Between Villages)

Word Count: 18k+ Special thanks to @defmaybe for helping to draw out the best version of this fic.

(All the details? Really? Oh wow. Okay…)

(I’m gonna dissociate myself from this so… “you” is gonna appear a lot. Don’t sweat it cupcake—you’re not actually the one in this mess. 

It’s just a bad habit of mine, that’s all.)

--

(You’re lucky. You get the sweet start to it all. For what it’s worth: sweetness is a fucking deceiving concept when you have rose-tinted lenses.)

“You know: out of all the men I’ve dated, you cook the best.”

You raise an eyebrow as you flip the grilled cheese in your skillet. Frankly, there’s nothing to be impressed about over grilled cheese and tomato soup. Cheese sandwiched between two evenly buttered slices of bread, grilled till golden brown and served with a side of hot tomato juice in a bowl. Literally everything has been prepared for you and packed neatly into some package in a grocery store. All you did was heat it up and add a few of your own ingredients.

“Is that a compliment or a flex?” you ask, turning your gaze away from your skillet momentarily to look at Miyeon as she replies. Her face isn’t gonna add value to her answer, but you just like looking at her. She is hot after all. 

She scoffs and takes a sip of her coffee. “Jeez… Can’t a woman compliment her boyfriend in peace?”

You’ve had this conversation before, but you like to entertain her.

“This woman can’t,” you tell her, making sure she can see the smirk on your face as you turn back to the sandwich. You wave your spatula in the air as you speak, almost like you’re referring to PowerPoint slides. “She’s too weird about everything. Never take her seriously.”

“Oh, so we’re just gonna call me weird and neglect the fact you keep your butter in that?” she exclaims, pointing at the butter bell on top of your fridge. It was a Christmas gift from your mom last year, and even though you did think it was weird at first, you have not gone back to keeping your butter in blocks. 

“You keep my fucking butter bell out of this,” you warn, and it’s half joking and half serious. 

(No one fucks with your butter bell.)

Miyeon chortles. You don’t need to look at her to know that she’s raising her hands in the air when she says, “jeez man. Didn’t know you guys were tight like that…”

And it’s stupid exchanges like this that make you appreciate her company by bounds. It’s lonely in the apartment when she’s out being famous; really nice to have her around for the holidays, albeit for a short time. It’s been a while since she’s been back. There’s much to catch up on over an 11 am brunch. You don’t know why she’s up so damn early today, cause normally you guys sleep till the late afternoon, then go figure out what to eat for dinner before lazing around in the apartment.

So with cheese falling from the corner of her lip, she gives you the latest developments in her life. Then it’s your turn, and you're glad to say that nothing’s really of interest in either of your updates. That’s usually for the better: sometimes the news you give each other can be a little heart-attack-inducing, so it’s better that your lives are pretty bland.

“You know,” she says as she wipes her mouth. “I might just keep dating you for your food,” she tosses her tissue onto the dining table and lets out a sigh. “Fucking delicious.”

You scoff and sip on your coffee. “Bet you told that to all the guys,” you reply wryly. “Probably gets them real excited, huh?”

She grins. It’s cheeky, mischievous, maybe even a little naughty. “Not telling.”

“You don’t tell me a lot of things,” you chuckle, and you’re low-key unsurprised to hear a little bit of unintended bitterness in your voice. “Not that it matters or anything… I just value communication.”

Oh, you’re petty. So fucking petty that it makes your skin crawl a little.

Miyeon’s unfazed. 

“Don’t get your tits in a tussle, pretty boy,” she muses. She folds her arms and leans into the table. “You’ll know more when I trust you more. For now: I’ll give you information as I please.”

And you kick yourself because you forget she can be a bit of a handful herself.

“Ugh, what will I ever do with this mysterious woman?” you smirk, resting your elbow against the table as you lean in as well. To be perfectly clear: you’re not mad at her. Her secrecy just bugs you out a little, and she knows it. “Such little knowledge on such a hardened beauty… must be tough to really crack her open and figure her out.”

You love her eyes, and you love to make them roll (in multiple contexts). They kinda gleam as she tilts her head. “Fine… I’ll give you something since you’re so damn desperate,” she drums her fingers against her cheek while her chin nestles itself into her palm. “What I’m about to give you is gonna change your life in so many ways. It’ll probably redefine your whole damn existence.”

You express your interest by leaning in a little more. Miyeon checks her six—like she isn’t in the comfort of her own home—before leaning in. She’s all clandestine. You have no idea what for. 

“You ready?” she checks. And you know she isn’t expecting an answer, but you nod nonetheless. She checks her left and right for good measure. You never know: maybe your lamp is listening.

“I’m aching for cock right now.”

And you guys don’t even make it to the couch.

It’s on the floor next to your table where she has your face in her hands, and she’s kissing you aggressively. She’s properly kissing you, and it makes you knock the back of your head against the floor a little, but it’s really not too big of a deal. 

She lifts her lips off yours and smirks. “For the record: it’s your fault that we aren’t fucking on the couch.”

“Yeah, and I actually paid rent early for once,” you shoot back sarcastically. “And would you mind helping me clean the yacht I most definitely own on my luxurious salary? Thanks a bunch, honey.”

She scoffs and rolls her eyes. She knows you’re full of shit, but she’s full of the same shit as you. Form a shit pile or something, maybe even a shit mountain if you feel like it. You could really go on for a while about how you two can talk for hours, but that’s not the main event.

The real deal comes when she has her hand beneath the waistband of your pants, slithering down to the very thing she aches for. She has that smile on her face, the one that kinda says “Oh I’m gonna love this” or “you’re gonna love this” or maybe even both. There are ways to distinguish the messages by looking at her eyes, but you’re a little too lazy to go figure it out right now. And before someone calls you a bum, you can’t help it: she has her hand on your cock and a piercing gaze trained on you. How about you try and focus on discerning implicit messages when there's a hot woman touching you in the right places?

“How are you hard already?” she asks, a hint of a giggle in her tone as she presses your shaft against your body. There’s barely any space down there, yet she makes it work so easily. “I didn’t even, like, do anything yet.”

“Well,” you hum, just as she starts to squeeze your member, appling that toe-curling pressure to your tip and smiling as you strain a little. “I can kinda see your tits through your shirt.”

Miyeon raises her eyebrows. She doesn’t even look at her shirt. “Oh?” and she starts to pump. “I didn’t notice that…”

“Totally,” you grunt. “Like how you don’t notice that your shorts are barely shorts?” you continue, but there’s something more bugging you. “And at least pull my pants down if you’re gonna jack me off, would you?”

Miyeon snorts, but compiles nonetheless. She gets your pants and boxers off with ease. It’s one swift motion (it’s practiced grace really), and she gets back to the task at hand before she was so rudely interrupted. 

“What does seeing my tits have anything to do with you?” Her motions are languid and fluid, steady and flowing like a stream. She doesn’t need to look. She doesn't need to guess. She knows you like the back of her hand. “Does it turn you on? Excite you?”

You have it in you to roll your eyes before they shut. “Stop asking these fucking ridiculous questions.”

“It's a basic inquiry.” She laughs in this aloof tone that you know is paired with the most devious of smiles. “So you won’t let me compliment you and you won’t let me ask questions? Tsk. Chivalry is dead.”

Miyeon goes a little faster, adds a twist of her wrist. This is just her hand, mind you, and it’s already ruining you in a way that only she is capable of. The tender touch of Cho Miyeon is something no woman you’ve met could ever replicate, and it takes you to places that you can only visit with her. Those fingers are magic, that mouth is magic—hell, everything about her is magic. 

“Please,” you manage to quip past the jolts of magic being sent through your system. “We both know that you have the answers to all the questions you just asked.”

She giggles—playfully, you might add. This is all a part of the game you play with her; this is the way Miyeon’s cookie crumbles. “Maybe I do, maybe I don’t. Who cares?”

You care: not a lot, but enough to make this as humorous as you want it to be. You kinda only give two shits because it lets you be kinda petty with her, but not that you externalise it or anything. You just have it pent up in you for the fun of it.

“Anyway,” she muses, halting the strokes of her hand to your cock. “Have I told you about how much I wanted you to fill me while I was filming?”

You take a moment to breathe. “No… But do tell.”

And gets to that, but not before ridding herself of her shirt first. By technicality, it’s your shirt, but it shrunk in the dryer at some point, so it just became hers. She gets into the details, the nitty gritty; tells you exactly what she’s imagining during the filming of her Music Video all while you kind just sit there and ogle at her chest. She takes her time, covers the stuff that you don’t really need to know but it’s kinda hot to know — things like “ugh, I needed you to bend me over the hood of that car and just fuck me at that point…” — because you admittedly get off knowing that she ever thinks about you that way and… God, you’re rambling aren’t you? Still pretty fitting though: it’s the way Miyeon talks when she’s thinking nonsense.

“Ugh. Now I’m wet,” she mutters. She speaks as if it’s your fault that she went on rambling about her fantasies with you. “You know you make me like, really horny right?”

“Oh no… Whatever will I do?” you’re really just rolling with it. Not because you want to, but because you want to get this bit where you tease each other over and done with. It’s kinda like marinating meat in the way it makes the sex a little hotter. Truthfully: you’re aching for her. Really: you want nothing more than to just get her pinned beneath you and writhing on your wooden floor. 

And frankly? You could do all of that right now.

So it’s with a bit of grace (and some dexterity) that you flip the positions: now you’re kneeling over her while she is the one that lies on the floor, if that makes any sense. Miyeon isn’t shocked by your sudden movements, more so delighted by the fact that you finally gave in to your carnal urges and just went for it. She smiles, knowing full well that she’s done something that's gonna give her that fuel she needs for the week. You know: sex that’s the opposite of soft; some shit that fulfills some wild thoughts. 

“Gotta say, you’re quicker than usual,” she has that cocky smirk on her face. You wanna wipe it right off her face, and you know just how. “Normally you’re all talk, no– Oh…”

You like that it really only takes a finger pressed against her panties to shut her up. It’s not much, but it’s enough to make her shut her eyes and shut up for a moment. The spot you press on is damp, soaked in that sweet slick. Gently, you trace the outline of those swollen folds. “You were saying?”

She has it in her to laugh—a breathy chortle. “Fuck you.”

“I’m working on that,” you fire back. Your cock twitches a little when you see her jolt in response to your touch. Your finger pressed down on that one spot that makes her weak, and it really works wonders: an airy gasp slips past those thin, luscious lips. The number of times you’ve kissed those lips swollen is not a number countable with 10 fingers.

Miyeon sighs, and it’s a mix of pleasure and frustration in her breath that humors you. She relaxes into the floorboards, her hips rock, her cunt rubs against your fingers. She's searching for some friction — sweet release in lewd movements. You let her move for a bit, watch her shake like the bough of a willow tree as she pleases herself against your fingers. 

“Enjoying yourself?” you quip. 

“Yeah..” she hums. “Passing time while you’re still not taking these shorts off me.”

Of course… How could you be so forgetful?

You stop for a moment to help her wriggle out of her clothing. It isn’t one of her most graceful moments, but it quickly passes. The shorts join your pants on the floor. Her panties are pink — not that subtle shade of pink or even like a darker version of pink. It’s Barbie fucking Pink.

“So we’re feeling loud today, huh?” you ask, letting your finger trail the lacy parts of the fabric. Miyeon smiles.

“Sana gave them to me,” she explains, not the least bit sheepish that her damp spot is visibly darker than the rest of her underwear. “Hope this doesn’t affect you in your work or anything…”

You feel the corner of your lip turn up. “No, no… Of course not,” you assure her, all while you let your hand slip between the fabric and her skin. You can feel her shudder, then you feel the heat of her cunt at the tip of your fingers. “You caught me on the right day actually… Pink’s in my rotation of favourite colours this fine morning.”

“Right,” her voice has a lilt. It’s shuddering a little too. “I knew that… Definitely had that in mind.”

You laugh. Your index fingers slip between her folds. She moans. 

You lower yourself, capture a swollen, taut nipple in your mouth. The sweet suction you deliver makes her gasp. Her hand finds itself in your head.

It’s all quite rhythmical, almost like a routine for the two of you. The way your bodies react to each other feels so natural that you think it might just be second nature at this point. You know her body: you’ve memorised the dips and curves and tender spots; the hot spots, the warm parts and the best parts. She knows you—the way you think, the way you talk; the way you play with her and the things you want to do with her. It would be safe to say that you guys practically have PhDs in the subject of each other, but that’s not a fair statement because you’re both a little more complicated than you let on. That keeps the sex exciting; it makes you crave each other a little more than last time. 

“One or two?” you whisper, letting your finger dip in and out of her lips and getting it all wet in her slickness. She takes a moment to think, or maybe she’s taking a moment to really soak in the teasing. Either way: she takes some time to reply. 

“Two,” she shifts herself a little lower, her clit pressing into the base of your middle finger. It makes her sigh — a low, kinda sonorous escape of air through her lips. “I hope you trimmed your nails this time.”

“That last time was a minor mishap,” you admit. You kinda want to pull your hands out to double-check, but you’re too mired in the moment to assuage your worries. “Don’t worry. I’ve got it all under control.”

She beams like the damn sun. “Good. I like it when you’ve got the reins.”

And that makes you suck in some air through your teeth. 

(God, does she know how to try you on.)

Your digits push themselves inside of her. They’re wrapped in her tight warmth, snug as a bug in a rug or whatever. You love the way her abs kinda flex as your fingers introduce themselves to her insides. It makes the best parts of her pop. Her chest rises a little more than the last time, her breaths becoming a little longer and more drawn out as your fingers explore her like always. The way she jolts when you get to that one spot at the roof of her pussy tells you that she has been primed and ready for this moment, loaded up like a shotgun and the trigger is really just any part of you that makes her cum. It could be your fingers, your tongue, your dick, your thigh—any part of you that can get her to that sweet high. Of course: you’re more than happy to assist. And so your mouth latches itself back onto her breast, tongue licking and swishing and flicking the swollen nipple atop her small yet generously sized breast. You relish the way it feels in your hand as you cup it—not too firmly and not too gently—and give it a squeeze, enjoying how the flesh spills out a little between your fingers but still fits in the palm of your hand.

“How do you only get better at this?” she hisses through her teeth. “I mean, I just saw you last week but… Oh god…”

You remove her nipple from your mouth. “Art is honed. This is art.”

She laughs, then throws her head back to let out a moan. “Well I’ll be damned,” her eyes close as she speaks, resting themselves for a bit so that she can enjoy the feel of your fingers in the best part of her slick. “Paint me like one of your French girls then.”

And you kinda have to kiss her after that. It’s a good line… and she’s, like, smoking hot right now.

You can’t track the exact moments where she starts to blue screen on you, but you can guess it's somewhere between you pinching her nipple and when you slide a third finger into her. The pressure, the stretching—it’s, like, everything she wants as of right now. She lets out this choked-up cry that you like to hear, the supple curve of her back growing more defined as she arches just a little more. She doesn't hold back, she never does. When you’re making her feel good, you can bet some good money that she’ll let you know. She’ll find her own way to express herself, be it through sound or action or words—sometimes a combination of all three. 

The way she feels around your fingers—delicate squeezing and sweet pressure around your digits as they stretch her to new lengths—is nothing short of enthralling. You can feel her pulse around you, the dull throb of her heartbeat as it beats for the sole purpose of getting all that blood rushing into the right areas. Your hand is kinda messy, fingers coated down to your knuckles in the sweet substance from her heat. Miyeon starts to writhe, squirm. A whine leaves her mouth. It’s followed by another, and another, and another—keeps going till the whiny stream ends with a guttural moan. 

Her legs close around your wrist. Her throat bobs.

“Mmph… baby…” her hand flails a bit as she tries to search for you. She catches your shoulder and her nails dig in. “Your mouth… I want your mouth on me.”

You always loved how forthcoming she is. 

“Miyeon…” you drawl, and this next bit is really just for the fun of it. “What’s the magic word?”

She laughs softly through the pleasure, lets a smile grace your eyes. She doesn’t fight it; she wants it—wants you. She just wants you in any shape or form. Any version of you will do; she’ll take all the different sides of you in a heartbeat. All she needs is you. “Please.”

You’ve never found so much delight in hearing that word. Kinda makes you want to hear it again.

“I can’t hear you,” your thumb presses down onto her clit. Her thighs start to twitch. 

“Please!” she yells that magic word in the form of a shout this time. Your cheeks hurt from how widely you’re beaming.

You retract your fingers. They come up to your mouth so you can taste her off of them. She’s nothing short of delicious, and you can kinda tell that she knows it because she’s smirking as she watches you clean off yourself.

“How are we feeling about the samples?” she has that proud gleam in her eye. “Pineapple’s been in my diet as of late… Just wondering if anything’s different.”

You smack your lips. “Picking up on a little tang here… Can’t be sure though.”

Her hands slide down to her hips, thumbs hooking into the band of her panties and pulling them down her thighs. “No worries. There’s more where it came from.”

The gall of this girl is insane, you’re thinking, smirking as you assist the journey of her underwear down her slim, milky legs. Like all your other clothing, it’s tossed aside. 

Miyeon spreads thighs, bends her knees so that her feet are flat on the floor.  You get in position, let your palms slide down her body with careful consideration: run your hands over the sensitive parts of the stomach, skim that one portion of her inner thigh that makes her shiver. She watches—waiting and anticipating while failing to keep her excitement off her face. 

She is glistening, swollen and plump to your eyes, kinda far ahead considering that you just used your fingers. She’s eager, unashamed and more proud than embarrassed about her arousal. Her legs shift a bit. She looks at you, a fingernail between her teeth as she exhales sharply when your thumb traces the outline of her pussy, careful in its endeavor as you feel the muscles around her slick tense up in response. Oh she’s so damn impatient right now, but she lets you get away with all of this because it gets her off a little harder; the teasing is just part of the show and the climax will probably follow pretty soon, fast and hard

“You’ve been looking forward to this, huh?” you remark, watching as her eyelids flutter when you put a little pressure with the pad of your thumb. 

“Mhm…” she replies. It’s a low hum, one that resonates in her throat rather pleasantly. “You have no idea…”

You laugh. Your eyes roll towards the ceiling then set themselves back on her. “Please… We both know I have some idea,” you stop your thumb on her clit, and you begin to draw small circles around it. “You did tell me” —and you have to pause for a bit to use your other hand to press down on her pelvic area, stopping her from jolting her hips up to get that sweet sensation of your thumb rubbing her swollen nub. She whines a little, a soft plea following suit— “about all the things you wanted to do with me.”

She desperately tries to shift herself, press herself a little more against you. The smooth wooden floor hinders her, the lack of friction failing to aid her. Her brows furrow. She’s frustrated. “Yeah, well, if you know what I want so much, why aren’t you fucking getting to it?”

You wink. “Relax. I’m just letting the meat tenderise.”

“Oh shut it you fucking—  Mmmph!”

And the way you part her with your tongue, it’s like she’s butter and you’re a hot knife slicing her open. You're slow with it, and you don’t stop when Miyeon’s thigh stiffens against your palm, or when she squirms a little and almost got your tongue derailed from its track. You know what makes her tick, what makes her hit the octave and gets her nice and messy for you. If anything gets Miyeon going more than actually fucking—it’s definitely gotta be when you get your tongue on her folds. 

“You’re never gonna let me finish my sentences, are you?” she laughs breathily. You watch her abdomen as it rises and falls together with the quick breaths she takes.

“Dunno…” you nuzzle your face in her folds for a little, giving her time to say whatever she wants for a bit. “You did say that chivalry is dead.”

From your bottom up view of her, you can tell that she just rolled her eyes. “No comment. You won’t let my finish it any— oh my fucking god.”

Now it’s the flat of your tongue against her clit that stops her dead in her tracks. Her juices have begun to lather your tongue in their addictive taste, drawing you into her just a little more with each lap of your tongue. You suck on one of her folds, then your tongue is inside her, and she moans, her hand finding a spot on the back of your head that she can grip on to. She calls you crazy, calls you baby, runs her fingers through your hair. Your tongue dips in, circles, laps; your nose brushes against all the right spots of her skin and it draws out these almost sob-like, quiet sounds from her chest and she’s… Fuck, she’s amazing.

“I might take a while,” she whispers to you. You call malarkey, but play along nonetheless.

“Fuck yes,” your tongue swipes the entirety of her in a long, broad stroke. “Please, by all means princess. Take your time,” you don’t think you could ever sound as enthusiastic as you did right now. She pushes you down a little harder onto her slit, and you delight in how she squirms when you push your tongue a little deeper between her folds.

Her nails start to dig into your scalp a bit, and she starts pushing you down onto her cunt a little more.

“You know,” she speaks with this half-whisper-half-gasp, the type of tone that tells you that she’s fighting to stay in control of her own body. “I— mmph… Sometimes I lock myself in the changing room and just get off to the thought of you eating me.”

You suck on the other fold that you neglected earlier. “Oh yeah?” and you get a finger inside of her. She cries out, abdomen flexing deliciously as she turns pliant under the pressure of your finger getting a hold of that sweet spot. You can feel the heat—it feels like your skin is gonna melt. “Bet you get off real hard to it, maybe even harder than you will in like, two minutes.”

“Two?” she tries to sound a little defiant, but her voice is cracking and it’s really not working out in her favour. Your finger is barely pushing up by the way, yet it seems like she’s got thousands of pascals of pleasure weighing down on every part of her being. “Don’t put yourself on a fucking pedestal… I am nowhere close.”

You hum in reply, saving your energy to suck on her clit. And it’s almost like she’s spring-loaded in the way her thighs clamp around your ears immediately after. Her fingers eat into your scalp, a light, searing pain growing across your head as you kiss her right fold, then her left. You can tell that there’s liquid burning heat running through her body, spilling all over her. Miyeon tries to hold on, tries to prolong this for a little more by getting her nails deep in your scalp. But she’s falling apart, coming undone with each second.

“Baby.”

“One minute left,” you put your lips back around her clit. Her head thumps against the floorboards.

“I—can’t.”

“Ugh. Hate it when you lie.”

“I’m sorry—”

“Just fucking cum.”

And she ruins herself. She loses sense of the world for a bit—convulsing and twitching on the floor while you continue to lick her. No cry leaves her mouth; a strained, choked up phonic gets caught in her throat and refuses to dislodge. Her back arches, her thighs flex. Her world fades for a bit. 

Give or take: she takes a minute or so. When she gasps for air, you know she’s come back down to earth. You welcome her with a kiss to her abdomen as you rise up. Her cheeks are rubicund—flushed and making her glow as she smiles at you. She softly captures your cheeks in her hands.

“Okay,” she huffs, taking deep breaths as she strokes your face with her thumb. “Out of all the men I’ve dated: you can cook and eat the best.”

“Twenty dollars says that you’ve said that to at least four guys,” you muse. “Maybe five if I’m generous.”

She closes her eyes for a moment. Inhales. Exhales.

“Hand on my heart,” she uses one hand to push some hair out of her face. “I’ve only said this to you.”

Ignorance is bliss. Believing her is a sort of ignorance.

You willfully let yourself be blissful because you can.

--

(Then fast forward a little. Maybe like, three hours? Or however long it takes for you to have a nap and a shower to get ready to go out.)

“Are you seriously going out in that?”

And you have to stop at the door. You know that tone all too well.

“What is it this time?” you grumble, turning around to face the bed so that she can get a full biopsy of your outfit. It isn’t a bad outfit in your honest opinion, and you’re no stranger to horrible (unintentional) attempts at making fashion statements. Colour-blindness is a hereditary curse; it’s not your fault that you can’t tell that this shade of blue doesn’t work with that shade of grey and whatnot. “I swear I wore this a week ago and you said nothing.”

Miyeon slips out from under the covers. In your T-shirt, she saunters with purpose and urgency as she makes her way over. She stops in front of you and takes your tie into her hands. “It’s either you lose this tie or do something else to this already god-forsaken outfit.”

You consider the options for a hot minute. You’re kinda proud of this outfit—it took a lot of time and vetting through Miyeon to get it planned out and everything. The tie was kind of a staple piece—as important as the shirt or trousers. To hear that (in essence) you looked like shit admittedly dealt a blow to your ego, but why be petty when you can be cavalier?

“Whatever,” you reply, making no effort to stop her from trailing a nail up your shirt. “I couldn’t really care less about how this woman perceives me tonight. Not even into her anyway.”

Miyeon chuckles. The finger on your chest wraps itself around the top of your tie. “That’s an option as well,” she adjusts the knot, though it doesn’t look like she’s doing it to make you look better. “But can I give you one more alternative?”

“By all means, princess.”

She tugs on your tie, pulls you close. Your lips are just centimetres away from hers. You get a whiff of her scent. She’s using the shampoo you bought her. 

“Stay home,” she makes sure that her voice is kinda breathy, tickles your face as she lets the phonics dissipate into warm air. “Skip the date. You have a smoking hot girlfriend to fuck anyway.”

Oh and it takes you just about everything to stop you from grabbing her by the face and just kissing her. It's so easy: reach forward, get her face (or waist) in your hands and just smash her lips against yours. You know she’s thinking the same thing; but she’s waiting on you, anticipating what you’re going to do next. It’s a sick little game the two of you play, but it’s fun as hell and really doesn’t get boring in the near future.

“You know what my mom would say…” you begin, and you know she’s gonna stop you.

“Say you're sick”—bingo motherfuckers. She owes you five bucks—“tell her that you got the cold and so you can’t show up.”

“Expended on that one… And the work emergency one too,” you regretfully inform her. “And no: I will not be telling them that we’re actually a thing—“

“Cause you want to protect me and blah blah…” she interjects yet again, her fingers moving up and down, closing against her thumb in mimicry of a mouth moving. It’s petty, kinda frustrating—but it’s Miyeon. She’s a handful to deal with at times, but at least she’s your handful to deal with. “Been running the same jig for a little too long, tiger. I know your game.”

“I know,” you admit. “I’m a one-trick Pony and my carrot is you. What’s new?”

She chortles at that, and you take that moment to really get a good look at her because by god is she beautiful. Head-turner, eye-widener, heart-racer — not to be a bore, but again: it’s Miyeon. There’s a lot more about her that you could synthesize into words, but you won’t (not because you don’t want to or anything; but it’s more about the fact that you probably don’t have enough time to get someone to understand her.)

Cause here’s the thing (about her, you and both of you): she’s just as human as anyone, and that means she’s just about as complicated as anyone. You’ve got a story, she’s got her’s, and the two cross somewhere to form a midpoint before they start running parallel to each other before meeting again and running together and… You get it, don’t you?

No? Fuck. 

Okay. She may or may not be able to hold down a relationship; and you may or may not have been able to secure a relationship. You kinda get drunk with her over this revelation one night and you may or may not have joked over the fact that maybe you should get together. And then you may or may not have had the hottest sex you’ve had in years before you may or may not have realised that she’s the best thing to happen to you. It’s all kinda hypothetical to you cause you’re still processing the fact that this is all real. Still wondering if it’s a fling cause it’s only been about 3 months since this started.

(Calm down cupcake, no one likes a party pooper who prods on details in the midst of a story. It’s just… Ugh. The story behind how the two of you know each other is so boring and complicated—full of unnecessary exposition like this whole bit really. It hurts to retell it, so here’s a summary: she used to date your roommate, roommate moved out after they broke up, she stayed and hanged around you, here you are now. Fuck the details, there’s no room for it really. You can’t have your cake and eat it too.)

“Save the charisma,” she tells you, really putting on some breath behind her words. “I prefer it when you use it in bed.”

And you kinda have to kiss her after that. It’s a good line… and she’s, like, smoking hot right now.

The kiss kinda blurs the line between passionate and sweet (if there even was a line to begin with). It’s quite aggressive, a little tender but also a wee bit emotional. It makes you a little bitter, but don’t get it twisted: you love this girl with all your heart and you’d do anything to stay with her. It’s just that you’d love—more than anything—to lose the shirt and pants you’re wearing to make out with her, and then let things flow as they do. Unfortunately, your parents really want you to meet this girl, and you have to get going or you’ll probably get cut from the will or something.

She tries again. “Stay…”

“Miyeon—”

“I fucking need you… Please.”

It’s just so fucking tempting…. But there are only so many lines you can cross before you find yourself in trouble with border patrol. And if there's anything you hate more than lectures, it’s lectures from your mother.  

Her lips graze yours, hovering just millimeters away. She wants to kiss you—bite your lower lip and pull you into an undoubtedly sloppy lip lock. That will end with your hand somewhere on her body that gets the ball rolling (and we all know where that ball goes). She has it in her to do it; she has the right, the means and the fucking autonomy (and audacity). She’s just waiting on you, seeing what happens when she plants the seed of an idea in your head and waters it a little. 

Unfortunately for her, you’re too damn terrified of your parents to let that seed grow.

“I‘ll see you later,” you whisper, albeit a little reluctantly. “Call me if anything comes up.”

She understands that she’s lost. Doesn’t stop her from giving you that kiss though. “Don’t keep me waiting tonight… I love you.”

Ugh. She’s one hell of a woman, isn’t she?

--

So get this: this woman that your mother found for you is possibly the most boring person you’ll ever meet. She’s beautiful and all, but she has the personality that has just about the same amount of flavour as food in the west before spices.

She spends the meal talking about her job, and you kinda just fix her with a hundred yard stare and tune out. You couldn’t give a shit about computer security really—never was and never will be into that shit. It doesn’t help that your phone is kinda blowing up at the moment. It’s buzzing all over your thigh in your pocket. Pretty trippy, kinda makes you wonder if Miyeon had just slipped one of her vibrators into your pocket.

You excuse yourself to the bathroom at some point. You’re not sure how long she’s been yapping your ear off for, but it kinda doesn’t matter. All you’ve gotten from this meal is really just a handful of nonsense and a migraine. 

Anyway: it’s in the confines of the bathroom store that you check on the ruckus in your pocket. The screen lights up and you find that the spasming of your phone was caused by a combination of posts from a news outlet and from Miyeon. She takes precedence over the news.

Miyeon//8:01 pm: I swear to you I have no idea what’s going on 

Miyeon//8:01 pm: I’m getting this at the same time as you

Miyeon//8:02 pm: I don’t know what’s happening. Please come home.

And the way you open your news app almost instantly makes you feel like you’re all too familiar with this. It’s not a headline, but it might as well be from the way it makes your eyes widen and your breath stop for a second. 

You blink. You blink again. 

The words don’t change. 

Suddenly, you have a valid reason to get out of this dinner.

(How you get home is a little fuzzy, but that’s not really the important part. 

What? The headline? Oh you know it, don’t you cupcake? It was literally the only thing on people’s minds for some reason, as if an idol dating an actor is something unheard of.)

“What the fuck?” you ask when you step through your apartment door.

She sighs as you remove your coat and hang it behind your door. “Look… I’m just as confused as you are—”

“An actor?” you interject. You’ll admit that it’s a little rude, but you’re really just trying to make sense of this as fast as possible. “How long have you known this guy?”

“That’s the thing. I don’t,” she huffs. “I swear to you, hand on my heart and the other on the bible, I am not in love with that man.” She says. “I barely even know the fucker, never talked to him in my life.”

It’s a little hard to look at her right now. You have lots of things to say; lots of feelings and lots of thoughts. If you’re really gonna be honest with yourself: you’re scared, hurt and a little confused. Miyeon’s good at lying—a little too good for your liking. Pair that knowledge with your insecurities, and congrats: you’ve just given birth to multiple insecurities. They’re like little demons running amok in your chest. It’s suddenly hard to breathe.

You can’t do this with her now. Not when all this is all so fresh and new. 

But she catches your arm as you try to walk past her. Her grip is firm, pleading. 

“Please,” she utters, letting her hand slide down your arm to let her fingers wrap around your hand. “Trust me on this.”

You want to. You really want to. And so it hurts you to ask, “Am I just another fling?”

You can see it in her eyes when she realises the motivation behind the question. She doesn’t take long to come to the epiphany—just a little less than a second before her eyes soften and her lips part a little. Her expression scares you. You want to run from this all together and leave it to another day, but God knows that you won’t be getting any sleep with this weight in your head. It’s comical, almost hilarious if it weren’t for the fact that it’s your relationship with her on the line.

You like to think that she can’t express her answer into words, so she kisses you instead. You’ll never know why she chose to kiss you, but it's sweet and so powerful that you can kinda live with that gap in your knowledge. You may or may not have teared a little, and you may or may not have melted into her lips a little too quickly. What you can say for certain: when you find yourself back in those eyes, panting with your face between her hands—the words ‘I love you’ escape your mouth faster than you can think. You don’t say it for the sake of it; you say it cause you mean it. You want her to know that you’ll fight for this relationship, that you’ll fight for her.

And it makes her smile. 

“I’m like, in love with your goofy ass,” she mutters, thumb tracing a path along your cheek. “So don’t you ever think that I’d drop you for some slick-back fuck face.”

That’s more than enough for you. Her smile is contagious as you hold her waist. “Crude. I love you, Miyeon.”

“Yeah. I heard you the first tim—”

Of course: you don’t wait for a finished reply to kiss her. It’s a practice, almost a common tongue at this point.

Miyeon lets her hands fall, gets her arms around your neck while you reacquaint your lips with hers. She’s lovely, fucking divine and maybe even a little addictive—straight up dangerous if you’re to sum it up. You wonder, for a second, if you’re being manipulated, and it’s really only for a second because she’s got her teeth in your bottom lip and she’s dragging them towards her. She wants more—more of you and less of this need to prove her love. She touches your chest, palm flat against your flesh as she deepens the kiss. Ignorance is bliss. Believing her is a sort of ignorance. Kissing her deepens that ignorance, makes you all the more blissful.

“I need you,” you breathe, unashamed by your blatant desire to have her right now. Really: you can’t get enough of her smell right now. “Please Miyeon… Let me be the only one.”

She smiles softly. She runs her fingers through your hair. “Baby, you already are.”

You press your forehead against hers. “I know. But can we just…”

You can’t really verbalise what you want out of this. You want Miyeon, but you don’t just want the idea and concept of her. You long for that connection with her, that union and that closure, not just some fleeting, superficial feelings. This woman is quite literally one of your dreams. It’s selfish to say this, but you want that security—something tangible to know that you’re really hers and she’s really yours, a piece of her that you can hold on to that helps rid your heart of those little demons. You hope she can understand this through your closed eyes.

And something about the way she fixes your hair tells you that she does.

“It’s okay,” she assures you, her other hand finding that one spot on your chest. It feels like it’s touching your heart directly, calming it. “I get it,” her fingers wrap around the knot of your tie, loosening it till it unravels completely. “You’re hurt and scared. Frankly, so am I.”

Miyeon wraps the tie up neatly in her fist. Her hands cross over each other as she reaches down to grab the hems of her shirt. It slips off her, a layer peeled away. Then the tie rolls down from her hand. 

“I want you to know”—she drapes the tie around her shoulders, the thin portion ever so slightly shorter than the broader portion as they hang on either side of those perky mounds—“I will do everything I can to protect you and us.”

She tosses the smaller end across her body, cloth flying over her left shoulder and dangling behind her arm. The broader end is wrapped around her neck—once, twice. 

Miyeon steps closer and takes your hand. The broad end of the tie gets slotted into your palm. 

“And even though I might have to be seen with him,” she coos, and she’s a little clumsy as she reaches for the thin end behind her, but she gets it on her second or third try. “Even though I might have to hold his hand in public,” she slips it between her skin and the loop she’s made, ties it off. “You should know: I am yours.”

She shocks you into silence as always. You know what she’s insinuating. You know that she knows what she’s insinuating. Your eyes search her for consent, and you find that it’s the only thing you can make out behind the veneer of a tender gaze. She checks the makeshift leash she’s made. It’s not coming off anytime soon.

You wrap some of the tie around your hand. Your fingers close around the silky fabric. 

(Just so we’re clear: the tie may look horrible on you, but she looks amazing in it.)

You pull.

And it’s just that. 

Clothes come off, lips meet, sighs fly through the room. Her hands explore you, grab you, pump you; your kisses find the best parts of her, the parts you love the most and the parts she loves attention at. The tie never leaves your hand, and you give it a tug or two when you get your digits in her on the couch. You’ll never forget the way she looks when her head is forced up just after it whips back, the glassy look in her eye as she begs for you, keens for you. Never in your life has anything this debauched been so intimate. You’ve never heard sighs out of you and her so luscious. 

“Princess,” you quite literally growl as you address her. It’s not necessary, but the squelching of your fingers in her slick brings out something in you—a part of you that’s wild and somewhat untamed. “I fucking love the way you moan.”

Miyeon bites down on her lower lip, hard enough to draw blood. “Yeah? She husks, her eyes going half-lidded in pleasure when you get your fingers in the same, soft, tender spot on the roof of her pussy. “It’s all for you. Ngh— A-All yours…”

And you don’t know how you can not believe her at this point.

You pull at the tie. She almost straightens completely. You kiss her. Her moans send pleasant vibrations down your windpipe.

It’s all so perfect. And it somehow gets even more perfect when she cums—waves of heat burning through her system; eyes shut and mouth agape; hands around your neck and your name spilling from her lips in a mix of curses (that mostly contain the word ‘fuck’); body convulsing and twitching in ways that make a low grunt emerge from the depths of your chest as you watch her. She’s beautiful—your beautiful princess.

When it’s over, you let the tie go slack. She crashes against the couch, forcing air back into her lungs with deep breaths. There’s sweat on her face, her body. Your hand finds its place on her tummy as you place small kisses on the corner of her lip, her jaw. Her skin is moist and sticky.

“Have me,” and it’s more so of a demand than a request. “Take me. However you want, wherever you want,” she runs her hands through your hair, “You’re the only one I want.”

You let out a low hum. It lightly vibrates at the base of your throat as you catch her earlobe between your lips. 

“Has anyone told you how fucking beautiful you are?” you can’t help but ask. She searches your face or a minute, then she chortles.

“About half the world,” she replies. “But it means the most coming from you.”

(Oh… That line really means the fucking world to you.)

You kiss her, hard. It’s messy, sloppy, and at some point you guys are scrambling to get on top of each other. She wins at one point, and so she rides you—dropping and rising hard and fast on your cock like a lewd merry-go-round carriage. She’s relentless, letting your cock fill her while she blanks out and just lets herself cry and moan like you don’t have thin walls in your apartment. You let her please herself, throw herself down onto your cock again and again till you decide that it’s your turn to have some fun. The tie is your friend, and you use it to pull her real close to not too kindly hiss your instructions into her ear. 

You’d kill to see the look in her eyes again.

And so you have her against the nearest wall in less than a minute, her back flushed against it and one of her legs bent in the crook of your arm. She reaches between your bodies, grabs your throbbing shaft and rubs your tip against her slit. You feel the heat of her pussy—the desire and depravity that burn in her core. You can’t believe she’s yours.

“I’m gonna put this in me,” she narrates her course of action, all breathy and silky. “It’s gonna fill me, fuck me… Maybe even cum in me.”

“I wouldn’t get ahead of ourselves here,” you whisper, your hand wrapping itself back in the fabric of the tie. “That last part? I dunno… Seems a little optimistic, don’t you think?”

She pushes your head in between her folds—not all the way, but enough to part them. “And why is that?”

You pop your hips, push yourself in a little more. She inhales sharply. 

“I only cum inside good girls.”

The smile that creeps its way onto her face is wicked.

“Trust me,” her hand finds purchase on your shoulder, pads of her fingers digging into the muscle. “I’ll be the best you ever get.”

She puts her weight onto the leg in your arm. You slide into her.

And you both take a moment to enjoy the unity—the feeling of the two of you being joined as one; your out of sync heartbeats that feel like pattering raindrops around your shaft. You want to say something witty, a quip that will get a nice chuckle out of her.

All you can really manage is, “Fuck.”

And in response: “Talk less. Fuck more.”

You draw back, push in. There’s the sopping sound of your shaft going in and out of her, wet pushing into warm flesh. You groan. She sighs. 

Tight, hot, wet, divine.

And it goes without saying: when you pick up the pace, she lets you know that she loves the feeling—the stretching, the filling, the push and pull. It comes to you in the form of pure filth: words that have very little consideration for propriety and no room for decency, something along the lines of “I can’t believe you feel this good. I can’t believe this cock is mine” or “That’s it. Keep filling me. Keep fucking— Oh” or maybe even a mix of both. You can’t be certain, because between you and her, you both know that the undulating of your cock into her tight, creamy heat and the almost torturous pressure around your dick is taking you under by the second. It’s not hard to lose yourself in her when she’s basically a little piece of you. 

Like always, she let her pleasure be known through desperate noises and choked up words. “Keep going, please, fuck—don't stop,” and it sounds like it hurts but you know it’s the other way around. Her pleasure coated tongue makes the lust in her words undeniable, her half-lidded eyes ruining the argument that she’s in any pain whatsoever. You yank on her tie, her body curves closer. You need a better look at that face.

(Trust me, it’s a face you don’t want to forget. 

For lack of a better word: it’s porny as fuck.)

It's a blissful dance – the rhythmic, almost metronomical give of her thighs as you slide yourself home again and again steadily and firmly. The smacking of sweaty and sticky skins colliding is almost evenly paced, sighs and grunts filling the spaces between slaps. She follows your lead, rocks her hips accordingly, angles herself and adjusts so that she can feel you in the deepest parts of her cunt. You lift her leg a little higher, spear yourself a little deeper. You listen to your body, she listens to hers. You give in to your desires.

You don’t mean to blurt it. You don’t mean to make the sex more complicated than it already is. But it happens—it fucking happens and you can’t stop it. 

“I love you,” your voice is nothing more than a rasp. She feels so fucking good around you — squeezing, pulsing and doing every little thing that makes your jaw tighten and you legs tense. “I fucking love you, Miyeon.”

She holds your gaze, then smiles, then nods. She nods vigorously, enthusiastically. “I know… It’s all I’ve ever known.”

Your hand on the tie releases it from your grasp. You catch a bouncing breast in your hand, squeeze the tight and taut nipple with your fingers. The tie shakes violently like a snake writhing, bouncing and swaying with each firm impact against Miyeon’s skin. She mewls, pulls you in, kisses you. She lets herself come undone with her chest flushed against you and your hearts aligned as she lets the cries transfer from your mouth to hers. You pump yourself faster, harder, faster, harder. Your finger digs into the flash near her knee. Your blood is boiling, molten metal spilling over and washing over you—gold rush, acid flux, saturating you in this bliss that numbs you out. You can’t tell where your thrusts start and end. They’re blurred by the heat washing over your eyes. You can’t get enough. The way you fuck her—it feels relentless, merciless, a fire that only burns brighter and can’t be put out, fuelled by the heat of Cho Miyeon flushed against you and the sublime squeeze of her slick heat. Everything about this is hot; everything about her is hot. 

“Don’t you ever let me go,” she hisses. “Fuck— don’t ever leave. This cock is mine. You are mine.”

“Princess, I’d never,” you nuzzle yourself into the crook of her neck, pepper her nicely with kisses. “You. Only you.”

“Yeah,” and her breath is hot on the nape of your neck. “Cause I can’t ever fucking imagine anyone else filling me this fucking good. No one has ever filled me this good.”

And her fricatives feel like acid: Aqua Regia—melting straight through solid gold just to get to you. It makes you burn a little hotter, fuck her a little harder. Your heart burns at the thought of her; your brain melts at the sight of her—glassy-eyed and mouth agape while cock pumps her full of pleasure and want. She finds a spot on your shoulder, whispers her proclamation of love— “I love you I love you I love you— Fuck—”—before she buries her face into your shoulder blade. Her love is an animal call, cutting through the darkness and bouncing off the walls, reaching a soft spot in your heart that you hold for her. Nothing in this world is gonna stop you from turning her into a messy little fucktoy. 

It’s hard to think. It’s hard to breathe. She’s become your world, the only thing you ever want to think about. Anything that isn’t her tight little pussy is irrelevant; what isn’t her thin lips pressed against your shoulder is invalid; no pair of eyes will ever match the glassy, lust-fogged ones that Cho Miyeon possesses. Your pulse is rushing, your head is reeling, your face is flushing. You want her—all of her. You suck hard on the milky skin you’ve caught between your lips, marking her, claiming her. She has no qualms nor worries; she tilts her neck to give you better access to that lovely patch of skin that becomes your canvas. She mewls, presses her forehead harder into your body, grounding herself in the sensation of her skin on yours. 

“I’m gonna fucking fill you, Miyeon,” you drawl. “I’m gonna cum inside this pretty little pussy and make a mess out of you,”

“Yeah, yes,” she’s barely holding it together at this point. “Please. Oh god please.”

Your hips move on their own now, taking liberties without signals from your fried brain as you pump yourself into Miyeon with the sole goal of piping her full of your hot seed. For long, wordless minutes, you're thrusting into her in a mindless, fervent fashion, giving in to your desires and your depravity and fucking her like she’s a doll. You relish the feel of her skin in your palms; the feel of her hands pressed against your chest; the sheer, strained phonetic atrocities that rise from the depths of her throat. Your shaft glistens in the light of the room, slick with her sweet juices as it slips in and out of her hot cunt, spearing into her with depth, making her legs weaker by the second. Miyeon cups your cheek, moans your name. You bury your nose deep in those silky locks of jet black hair. You need every last part of her to be close to you.

She's whimpering, eyes squeezed shut, toes clenching; she’s a coiled up spring, a bundle of nerves waiting to be released. Her bottom lip is between her teeth, her throat bobs. She's coming undone, breaking a little more with each thrust of your cock. You know that she’s cumming before she announces it, and when you fuck her over the point of no return, it’s bliss.

Miyeon melts, head whips back and thumps against the wall, positively combusts on the spot and ceases to hold on to the last bits of herself. She lets herself fall through the pleasure, orgasm almost ripping through her system as she shakes in your grasp. She’s such a precious thing, yet she can look like lust itself when she’s busy cumming all over your cock and whining like her life depends on it. She’s tighter, wetter, even better to fuck. 

She really is the best you’ll ever have.

“Miyeon–”

“Just fucking cum.”

Your line; same effect. You fill her, make a creamy mess of her cunt because you can. You fuck her through it, push your load deeper with each thrust. Your cock pulses, spasms, shoots load after load after load into her pussy till you can’t take it anymore and jitter to a halt, and there’s nothing left but a filthy mess flowing out at the base of your cock where her lips are splayed the widest. It’s a sight for sure. 

(And there really isn’t a word for the moment that the two of you share in that wrinkle in time, that moment where it’s just all warm and fuzzy and you have your forehead pressed against hers.)

You cradle her in your arms, kiss her chest, her jaw, her lips. It’s tender, it’s gentle.

“We’ll figure this out,” she pants through closed eyes. “I promise you: you and me, we’re gonna figure this all out.”

Somehow, you don’t doubt it.

--

(Still here? Great. We’re getting to the good part. Get your special sock out or something.)

So the newest rage of the K-pop scene is the photo of Miyeon kissing him in a car.

It's a publicity stunt—the whole damn relationship. They are supposed to appear in love according to Miyeon, and it was his idea to kiss her. She never consented and he just did it. It’s a pretty lewd photo: up close and personal and all. You can see his lips on hers, his hand on her breast and they’re like, clearly getting it on in three. Pretty steamy if you do say so yourself,

(...)

Oh fucking hell. Who are you kidding describing this photo like you’re just viewing an artwork. It makes your blood boil, and speaking to her after seeing this photo feels like dancing to alarm bells when you feign ignorance and just talk with her like it’s a normal Wednesday. You’re gonna hurt yourself at this rate, but she really means too much.  

She told you that he forced his lips on hers, you believe her to the best of your ability. You kiss her, tell her it’s okay, that she’s doing what she has to do to protect the two of you. She says she’s sorry, that she feels like she’s failed you. You kiss her again—albeit a little half-hearted—and assure her once more that it’s okay. You want to nurse her pain, but you also have your own problems to deal with.

And as if this fucking actor hasn’t interfered enough with your relationship, he has the audacity to call during the make up sex.

Her phone starts to ring when she’s on her hands and knees on your bed, and you’re fucking her into the mattress like she’s some pliant plaything. There's a rage inside you that hasn’t been quenched, and you don’t realise that it’s bringing out that dark side of you till you spank her ass a little harder than you intended to. It doesn’t help that you kinda twitch when you hear her yelp, and it really doesn’t help when she tightens after the second spank. The phone only continues to vibrate next to her head.

“Baby,” she rasps. “My phone…”

“Pick it up,” you hiss. “Pick it up and let whoever the fuck it is hear how you’re being fucked like a slut.”

Degradation has never really been a kink of yours, but you know she’s kinda into it. Even so, you’re not calling her a slut because you consciously want to. You feel like an asshole for being angry, kinda hate yourself a little for not being able to accept that she’s doing what she needs to do. And then you kinda hate her for making you hate yourself and— Ugh. It just gets more complicated the more you try and rationalise it. You can’t stop the hot blood from coursing through your system, fuelling your firm strokes into her tight heat like you’re trying to inject all the hate in your body into her. 

Her hand that was once clawing at the sheets now reaches for her phone. You keep thrusting as she flips it over, keep thrusting as she shows you the caller ID, keep thrusting as she looks back at you with a gaze that says “are you sure?”. You hope she isn’t met by that dark look you often see when you look at yourself in the mirror after a new headline about them hits your screen. It’s funny how one person can flip the idea of make-up sex on its head—turn it from something so tender and beautiful to a spite-fuelled fuck fest that’s gonna make things more complicated. She hasn’t even picked up the fucking phone, but you can hear his sick voice in your head as you drive yourself deeper into her cunt, fuck her harder and faster than you knew you could. She’s in no state to answer the phone, yet her finger taps on the ‘accept call’ button. 

(She would’ve rejected it if she could, but she got into some deep shit the last time that happened. Must’ve been threatened or something for her to pick up the phone while she’s getting fucked.)

“Hello?” she does her best to steady her voice, and she’s doing pretty well considering how loud the smacking of skin against skin is. She presses the phone a little tighter against her left ear. You don’t intend on stopping. Let him hear her being owned by you for all you care. “T-This is a bad… a bad time.”

Damn straight it is. 

Your hand caresses the curve of her ass. You spank her again, making sure that it’s loud and it leaves a red patch on her smooth, creamy skin. She contacts around you, gasps a little as you bend down and pin her down with your weight on her back.

“W-What?”—and it feels like she’s talking to both of you. You hiss into her other ear. “I’m going to fuck you like this,” your voice is actually a snarl, a dark one. Your body is energized by the promise of taking and ravaging the helpless, prone woman beneath you, your words dripping with loathing and your thrusts brimming with spite. “I’m going to fuck you hard and rough, and you’re gonna keep him on the fucking line so he can hear it.”—“No I’m… Jogging.”

She’s terrible at lying. You let her know through each thrust—hard and deep, uncaring for her pleasure or her comfort or anything other than your need to bury yourself again and again inside her body. There’s the need to dominate her, the need to make her yours. You hope this guy can act like he doesn’t care that his supposed girlfriend is being prone-boned by another guy, act like he isn’t totally aware of the fact that Cho Miyeon’s body is never gonna belong to him at any point as long as you’re alive. 

(Keep this between us: but with the way you're going down on her, it feels like the message is being transferred to her and not him.)

You hear indistinct chatter. Miyeon bites down on her lower lip, undoubtedly holding back the stream of cries and sighs and lyrical monstrosities that threaten to burst forth. With her eyes she begs, challenges you to do more. You could be reading her wrong by like, a hundred percent. Doesn't matter, not when you can take every liberty with her body because you couldn’t give more of a shit. There’s more indistinct chatter on the other end of the phone; Miyeon says something along the lines of “no. Don’t buy the choker for me”. You give her a choker—raise yourself up and reach around her to wrap your fingers around her throat. Her whole body tenses when you apply pressure around her windpipe. In no universe does this guy not know what’s going on right now.

Cause she’s there—right there, all choked up and struggling to breathe while the fucker keeps yap-yap-yapping away like he’s some fucking guard dog. It irritates the hell out of you. At some point, he kinda has to hear a squelch or smack or two, maybe even a moan or a cry as well. But he stays on the phone, and not once does Miyeon ever have to address the question of whether she’s being fucked on the other end of the call or not. You thought you were ignorant, but this guy is a whole new fucking level of blissfully ignorant. It feels like his sole purpose is to drive a wedge between the two of you, to make you hate her because you hate him. Again: it’s kinda complicated to say exactly what it feels like to be in this situation. 

And you can imagine the moans she wants to let out. They’ll tumble out of her lips like water down a waterfall, and they’ll mix with the sound of your lips smacking against her skin as you lean back down to kiss her neck, stopping at one spot that you know will be good to mark her and sucking hard. It feels like getting back at her—doing all the things you want to do while she can't speak her mind freely (and you know how tortuous it is for her when she can’t moan while she’s being railed like this). You’re not sure why you would ever need to get back at her when she’s done nothing wrong, but I guess it helps to synthesise and dumb down the emotions you’re feeling at the moment.

“Tonight?” she asks. Then she buries her head into the sheets because she can’t hold back this moan that almost explodes from her chest. You’re not squeezing really hard around her throat, mind you—only enough to make her a little uncomfortable, like a tie has been wrapped around her neck. She's getting off on it though: her walls squeeze you a little tighter; her breaths become more ragged and short. Honestly, she's taking your cock so well, and you communicate this to her with a growl. It makes her shudder a hell lot. 

Her other hand clutches the sheets, spasms. She’s pliant, she always is, but it feels like you can wrack her tiny body with so much more pleasure as you keep a hand around her throat and keep your dick pumping in and out of her. You wish you had a mirror to see that pretty face warping under the heat of her lust. You kinda forget that she’s still calling him when she speaks again, cause she follows up with, “I can’t— I can’t believe…”

And if that damn phone call wasn’t happening, she’d be saying something along the lines of “I can’t believe that you’re fucking me this good”.

“Sorry. I got cut off,” she pants. “Yeah… It’s harder to hear me when I’m running.”

Now she's talking to you. The reply is to him, but she’s addressing you. You take her up on it, and the slapping and squelching start to ricochet off the walls and ceiling. What you’re doing should be considered as a whole sin in itself. Technically, it’s adultery, but you’re not too sure if you can even classify this as something that simple. This is jealousy, hate and love mashed into one—a mix of things that kinda shouldn’t go together when you have a woman who’s quite literally like putty beneath you. It doesn’t help that she's this hot, this tight, this wet. She’s straining her moans, and it’s so cute that you want to choke her a little harder. You don’t do it (just clarifying some doubts here), but you almost do. 

“R-Really?”—you’re almost certain that what comes next is gonna be addressed to you. You can imagine her signing your name off on it—”wow… That must be so fucking good.”

Bingo. Gotta say: she’s kinda smooth with it.

“I’m fine. Out… Out of breath” you don’t know how she manages to keep her voice steady. “Y-yeah… I’m gonna come… Don’t worry.”

You hope that she can hold on.

You don’t know how long more you fuck her for while she’s on the phone. It’s a blur; you kinda only see red and you’re still choking her out even after she hangs up. It’s only when she goes, “Oh, fuck, daddy—!” with this breathless, perverse, pleading tone and a voice that’s so loud; her body unable to do anything other than gasp and moan and urge you to really give it to her, and when she says “fuck me, fuck me, fuck me!” like you’re not doing just that (and only that) at the moment that she’s hung up on him. Now she has every facility available to focus on the rock hard meat she’s receiving. You feel filthy, like you’re doing something wrong.

But hey: the sex is hot and Miyeon’s kinda into it, so you keep going. You keep fucking her into the bed—the same way you would if you were fucking her against the wall or in the shower or against any flat surface, really. It’s twisted, it’s dark, it’s hot; the angle her body is at lets you drive yourself deeper and faster and harder into her wet, tight and hot pussy like you never have before. You’re experiencing a novelty, a new chapter.

(Caveat: is it kinda messed up that you call her a cocksleeve? Not really? Huh.)

“God Miyeon…” you feel like the voice that comes from your throat is not your own. “You’re such a good fucking cocksleeve for me,” and you may or may not be tightening the grip around her throat as you speak. “So tight and wet for me. You’re such a good fuck.”

“Oh daddy, fuck you’re so big and deep in me,” she gasps. She has lots to say, even though air is like a fucking luxury for her. She rarely calls you Daddy, yet she’s using her precious air to do so now. “Fuck, fuck me as hard as you can, daddy! Do whatever you want with me! Own me! Take me!”

You barely recognise the woman she’s become: depraved, sordid and one hell of a hot mess. You love it. It’s fantastic. Fucking fantastic.

And she falls apart under you not long after, writhing and moaning and twitching as this beautiful mess of a woman you’ve made out of her. You want to cum in her, really own her; but your thoughts are fueled too much by the hate in your heart that they're wilder than anything she can ever imagine. 

You pull out of Miyeon, your shaft glistening in the dim light. You get off the bed, pull her away with you. Her mouth opens to say something. You kiss her—shut her up. She moans into your mouth, and you swallow it, bite her lower lip, and it's not rough, but enough to get her attention.

“You’ve gotten enough loads inside your pussy,” you husk. “Get on your knees. I want your mouth.”

She nods, and you relish the disappointment in her eyes. You push down firmly on her shoulders. She goes with the motion, and you're not sure if you can ever get over the image of Miyeon on her knees with her pretty little princess face staring at you with anticipation. You think about fucking her face, letting your cock thrust into the back of her throat over and over and over till you paint her face in a messy spray of cum. 

And you know what? You’ll do just that.

Of course, Miyeon perfectly understands what has to be done. You step up to her. She parts her lips and takes your cock right into her mouth, grasping the base of your cock and pumping it with one hand while she gently cups and squeezes your balls with the other. The pace she launches into is hard and fast; blurring her chocolate hair and your vision—taking the top half of your cock in and out of her wet mouth with rapid urgency while her fingers work your shaft in a corkscrew motion. The suction of her mouth is almost lethal, the seal sublime; and the audacity she has to look up at you while she takes your cock in and out of her mouth is so exhilarating that it makes you weak in the knees. She’s gorgeous, even more so when she’s got cock in her mouth.

Your hand finds a clump of her black, sweaty hair, and you close your fingers around it, holding them in your fist. You push her head down onto your cock, pop your hips and start thrusting with firm, slow strokes. She exceeds every expectation you ever had, adapting to you, changing to please you. Your eyes shut involuntarily. Your brain blocks out all sensations that aren’t the wet, hot cavern of Miyeon’s mouth sealed tightly around your shaft. With the first entry into her mouth her wet tongue is pressed tightly against the underside of your shaft, lathering it with her spit. The backstroke is somehow even better, that pretty little mouth endeavoring to suck you right back in when you draw yourself back out. It feels like time stands still, but Miyeon’s still in motion, and she’s the one making you feel like all the natural laws in the world are being defied.

A small part of you knows that you have to see it happening in order to truly believe it’s all real, so you force your eyes open to watch the spectacle unfolding between your legs. Smoky eyes glazed with pure lust staring right up at you, watering, projecting perverse pleasure with a gaze; hollow cheeks and a seemingly unhinged jaw to accommodate your length; spit leaking from the corners of her mouth, dribbling down her chin.

“Fuck I—” is all you manage to say (or maybe ‘grunt’ is a better word) before your orgasm takes the reins to your body. It overwhelms your senses, but you force your eyes open to watch as you pull Miyeon off your dick just in time. Thick, glistening cum erupts from your tip to land on Miyeon’s face, on her cheeks and nose, painting her smoky features with pearlescent, warm ropes. You paint her face with your hot white seed, and it’s far from an elegant piece of art. She doesn’t look anything like one of the French girls she wanted to be painted like, but the look of utter lust on her needy features is still breathtaking—mouth open, tongue out, eyes closed in delight and bliss.

Ugh, she's one hell of a woman, isn’t she?

And when it’s all over, she takes your cock in her hand and licks off the drops that she’d been deprived of. 

“If you ever do that again.” you love the raspy touch to her voice. The lilt in it is doing wonders too. “I’m gonna make sure that you’ll be calling your mom the next time I blow you.”

You roll your eyes and sigh. “Whatever you say, princess…”

The hate seems to fade. Your heartbeat slows.

Maybe this relationship is salvageable. Maybe you guys can last.

You talk to her about it afterwards and apologise sincerely. She says that she didn’t think much of it when it was happening. Then you guys are at peace again.

(What do you think? How long does the honeymoon last? A month more? 

Two?

Generous.

Try one. Fucking. Week.)

--

“Okay. Hands down: this is the best Jjamppong I’ve eaten.”

The growing pile of clam shells beside her bowl tells you that you did something right. It’s the first time you've made this dish, and there’s always that lingering worry that you fucked up somewhere along the way when you eat it for the first time. The soup seasoning is a little off in some places (you don’t know where exactly), but it’s nothing a dash of fish sauce and some chilli flakes can’t fix.

“I mean,” Miyeon continues, speaking between small yet generous mouthfuls of noodles. “You only get better and better at cooking. I don't know how you do it.”

You give a half-hearted smile. Your noodles have kinda gone cold by now: you’ve been stirring them around with your chopsticks for the past five minutes or so. Appetite has become a luxury for you these days, and it’s one of those days where a new article about him and her comes out, one of those days where you both agreed to put a pin on it and just enjoy life. “Well… It’s a lot of love and care, I guess.”

“You can say that again,” she smiles. “Thank you for making dinner. No one cooks like you.”

“Thank you for cutting scallions,” you say. “No one cuts them like you do.”

She laughs and waves it off, then takes another slurp of her noodles. “I honestly don’t know if I like your tomato soup over this.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. My tomato soups have always been the peak of my cooking prowess.”

“I really don’t know!” she tells you, grabbing another clam from the centre of the table. “This stuff is all smoky and tasty… It just feels like home and I—”

You drop your chopsticks into your bowl. Soup splashes onto the table.

“How do I keep living like this, Miyeon?” you ask. There are only so many pins in your possession and you feel like you’ve used all of them. “I’d love to sit here and talk to you about how I made this meal like everything’s okay, and this is just Thursday and maybe we’ll get ice cream later… But it’s not like that right now.”

Miyeon takes your hand in hers. 

“I can’t pretend like things are the same when everything’s… different,” you close your eyes, take a breath. “I love you, Miyeon. You’re like, the best thing that’s ever happened to me and… I’ve never loved anyone the way I love you.”

You can hear her take a breath to start speaking. You really want to let her, but there’s too much on your chest. 

“I know you’re doing what you have to, for me, for us,” you want—oh so badly––to just bury your face in your hands right now. But once you do that, the tears will inevitably come and your ability to speak your mind will disappear faster than you can regain yourself. “But it hurts. It hurts to see you holding his hand, walking around and… and kissing him.”

Your heart stings when you see the tears welling in her eyes when you find it in you to look at her. The last thing you want is to see her in pain. This next bit hurts you even more to say, but you know that it’s better to tell her how you feel.

“I feel like I’m an open wound… and you're just pouring salt on me,” and you start to choke up a little. “I’m sorry to put it that way but—”

“No,” she interjects. “No. I get it… I-I understand.”

And for a moment, it feels like everything's okay for a bit.

Then she comes around the table to kiss you, and hell’s bells start ringing all over again. It hurts to kiss her, but it feels so right.

Miyeon leans into you. She kisses you. She pulls you close. She lets you run your hands across her body, down her back. You stand. Your tongue pokes into her mouth. One of you says I need you and you don’t know who it is.

And like when things were okay: you guys don’t make it to the couch.

You get naked. She gets naked. The sex isn’t about pleasure or thrill. It’s the aching within the both of you that drives your shaft into her cunt, rocks her hips as you fuck her. You quite literally make love with her, your strokes passionate and fervent; her cries are earnest and wanton, full of longing. For long moments when her chest is against yours, your hearts are aligned. You wish that you could fuse them together, take away the pain by making the two of you one singular person there on the floor. It feels possible when your dick is throbbing inside of her, pumping her slick with rock hard meat again and again and again.

But the thing that sucks the most is that you can’t do that. You’re two separate people with two separate problems that kinda overlap at the same point.

You have her bent over the counter, propped up on the kitchen sink—anywhere you could reach was a surface for you and her. And normally you’d be a bit of a party pooper about fucking on these surfaces, but today you really can’t give more of a shit. You want to feel like everything’s okay again, like you’re not fighting for your life to hold on to this relationship that’s being torn apart day by day, night by night.

And you may have pieces of each other deep within your souls, but they don’t seem to fit anymore.

When it’s all over and you’re panting against the dishwasher, reality hasn’t changed and you’re still torn. You have a wound that only you can heal through acceptance, yet you can’t find it in you to accept that this is the life you have to lead. You want to love her. You want it so bad. But you can’t find the will in you to love her when there’s another man in the picture, albeit that her love for him isn’t even minimally a concept. You can’t nurse her injuries either, and it hurts to know that as her delicate hands cradle your cheeks. Her touch is perfect, her breaths are soft on your skin. The two of you have tried so hard to make it work, yet you’ve only come so far. The solution to this problem is like thousands of hot fire pokers stabbing you simultaneously, and it only hurts because it’s the only way forward for the both of you. 

“Miyeon,” you can’t quite believe what you’re about to say. The tears streaming down your  cheeks aren’t making anything easier. “Let’s break up.”

(And this isn’t for pity: but you cry yourself to sleep after she leaves that night. Ain’t it fun being heartbroken? You would know how it feels, right cupcake?)

--

Three months, two weeks and one day (about 105 days if you really want to be fully accurate. Go write that down somewhere) pass uneventfully—and by that you mean, you never picked up any of the 138 calls that came from Miyeon. It would have been 140 calls if you hadn’t picked up two of them when you were drunk. But hey, she was drunk too. So it kinda cancels out… at least you like to think that it does. It does, doesn't it? Two negatives make a positive? 

(No?)

Ah well. Anyway,

(Okay, caveat, again: you’re thankful that she hadn’t showed up to the apartment once throughout this period. You’ve been stuck between your anger and a blame that you can’t face because you don’t know if you blame yourself or her or him. Drinking doesn’t help to lighten the ache in your chest, so you tried exercising: running, swimming, even pilates; you tried to pick up music—bought a guitar and everything. Your fingers still hurt when you play chords, and you’re considering giving up at some point; you tried to learn how to make those pain in the ass French desserts, and now you have a fire extinguisher permanently installed in your kitchen because you somehow managed to set fire to macarons; and you tried to write. That didn’t go well. 5 Wattpad users politely asked you to kill yourself. Not fun.

One way or another, your thoughts would end up drifting back to Miyeon, and you’d have to sit in place and kinda stare into the distance for a little. And yes, you did question your choice to end things with her many times if anyone is asking. You kinda hate yourself a little for not trying to make things work, and you also kinda hate her for not insisting on staying to make things work. 

It took two of the three months for you to realise that you were both kinda in the wrong. But it’s already too late by then.

You couldn’t get a grip of yourself and fight off your internal demons; she couldn’t stop doing what she thought was right to protect the two of you. Net-net: it’s a loss for the both of you in the business of love. Now you have to look for a way forward through this grey-area mess that you’ve made, learn to live with the fact that maybe you guys just weren't meant to be in the grand scheme of things.

The updates on Miyeon’s relationship with that damned actor kept coming, but it stopped as of late. But for a while, they were all the rage for gossip blogs. Every now and then, a shitty title like “Cho Miyeon stuns with her visuals on her date” would pop up, and you have to swipe away quickly before you accidentally tap on the notification and see her holding hands with him. You’ll admit that you opened some of the articles just to get a look at her face, then smile to yourself for a bit before you fight the urge to punch the spot next to her where Squid Game wannabe is smiling. You’ve succeeded so far.

You kept away from Jjampong and tomato soup with grilled cheese too. It’s hard to take your butter bell down from the fridge without tearing a little, and the fish sauce and chilli flake panacea for food doesn't apply to a broken heart by the way (it’s just really salty and spicy. You don’t know what you were thinking. Probably drunk. 0/10, please, please, please do not try). The two dishes are too homely; their tastes remind you of her.

Okay. Let’s ‘anyway’ for real this time.)

Yeah, so uh, remember how you said that sometimes the news you give each other can be a little heart-attack-inducing, so it’s better that your loves are pretty bland? Yep… Sad to say that the same confirmed hypothesis still stands, even when you guys are on day 106 of your break up.

This time the news comes in another headline—and you mean like front page, breaking news headline—on Tuesday night. Wonderwall isn’t treating you too well. You’re pretty sure that your finger tips might be turning purple. Your phone buzzes next to you like crazy, just like it did that night, and it’s like having an iPhone seizure. You don’t think too much when you put down the guitar and pick up your device. 

And you only read the first six words to give yourself a valid reason to reset your miscall streak with Miyeon.

Idol Cho Miyeon Slapped In Public…

(The title was a lot longer than that. You should know it since you’re here in the first place.)

It’s in moments like this when you kinda wish that speed dial was still a thing. (I mean there's siri and all, but do you really have time for that right now?) In a blur of great clumsiness, you open your contacts and experience no difficulty in locating her number again. She’s on the top of your miscall list, so it really takes no wizard to figure this out.

You hate that she’s letting it ring for so long. Every brr brr makes you tremble a little more in your seat. If your mum could see you now, you’d probably get an earful for your bad habit of biting your nails.

She finally picks up the phone. It’s good to hear her voice. “Hey…”

Your mouth opens, closes, opens again. Now you realise that in your hurry to check on her, you’ve yet to rehearse what to say to her. The debate between your head and gut almost tears you in two. 

“You okay?” you finally manage to blurt after some struggle. “I saw the news… Just wanted to check if, you know, you’re still up and kicking…”

You hear that familiar scoff from the other side of the phone. “Please. You know that it takes more than that to take me down.”

If your ears don't deceive you, you can hear a bit of a strain in her voice. She hates it when you jump to conclusions though, so you leave it as it is for now. “That’s… That’s great.”

And it’s silent again. If you were in the business of losing her interest, you’d be making crazy profits right now. Okay, better end this fast.

“Well uh,” you begin, stopping for a second to swallow some saliva to soothe your semi parched throat. “I guess—”

“Can I come over?” 

Like she always does, she shocks you into silence. Your throat dries up. Your mouth is the Sahara. 

“I… I miss you… if my miss-calls weren't clear enough about that,” she chuckles. You swear you hear a sniffle. “I’d like to see you again,” and you can hear your heartbeat in your ears, “for closure of course… and maybe tomato soup?”

Your heart joins the debate between your head and gut. It wins.

Minutes later, your butter bell is open, a knife scraping out the last bits of creamy butter out of it so that it can be used to evenly butter the other side of your bread. You’re moving on instinct, with glee and excitement. You’re not sure why you’re happy. You’re just happy—happy that you’re gonna see her; happy that you can prepare this dish again without the knowledge that you’re not gonna see her when you turn. It isn’t till the doorbell rings that the joy fades, and in its place comes that familiar tension of a two tonne weight wrapped around your chest. 

You aren’t sure why she rings the door when you haven’t changed the passcode to the lock. If she’s trying to be polite? You appreciate it. If she just forgot the pin? Well… you wouldn’t put that past her either, really. Your gut, head and heart agree you that it’s most likely the latter, and you kinda have to remind yourself as you open the door that she's just as forgetful as anyone else.

“Hi,” you catch yourself staring at her. You don’t mean to look at her dress first, but it’s the first thing your eyes are drawn to; it's been a while since you’ve seen her in anything other than a t-shirt and shorts. The white dress she’s wearing is bedazzled out, the light that’s reflected off of it catching you and making you a deer in headlights for a bit. Then you snap out of it. Your gaze travels up to her face and… “You look… Fucking terrible.”

You love her eyes and you love to watch them roll. “Thanks. You look not bad yourself. Gained some weight?”

You try not to stare. You fail—horribly you might add. 

But in your defence, it’s hard not to look at the purple spot on her milky skin. 

Miyeon covers her cheek. She looks down at your feet like there's something really interesting about them. “Are you, you know, letting me in? Or are we just gonna keep standing here?”

You blink. “R-Right.”

And soon she’s settled into her usual seat, nibbling on some grilled cheese while you ladle out her tomato soup into a bowl. It feels like nothing has changed, but you know that’s not true. Both of you know that everything’s different, that you can’t just give her tomato soup and peck her on the cheek.

“So you play guitar now?” she catches you off guard as the bowl makes a small thunk against the table. It’s in the same spot she always places it, and you know because a woodring has formed in that area. You follow her gaze and see that she’s spotted your Fender on the couch. 

“Sort of?” you reply, a little uncertain in how to rate your abilities. “Just basic stuff, you know?”

She smirks and picks up her spoon, starts chipping away at her soup “So you’re finally digging up the singer-songwriter in you… Good on you, man.”

Again, you find yourself staring at the bruise. It’s a deep shade of purple, splotchy and a sight for sore eyes. From the looks of it, he hit her hard. There’s a burning in your chest—a mix of grief, pity and anger as you watch her eat her food. You wish that you could’ve been there to stop it. You wished that you could’ve just dated her under different circumstances so that maybe, just maybe, you could’ve gotten that ending you wanted. You don’t know how she’s ever gonna cover that up when—

“If you’re gonna get something for this thing, go do it,” she mutters. “Chivalry hasn’t died completely, right?”

You nod and scuttle off. It’s easy to lose track of how long you’ve been staring when you’re lost in your thoughts. Is it scary how this feels like just another conversation between you two? 

The ice pack from when she bought that ice cream cake was still in the freezer, and it’s chilly in your hands as you grab it and return to the table. She has finished her soup—not a single scrap left inside the bowl. She must be starving.

Her grilled cheese is half eaten in her hand; she stares into the distance as she chews. 

(And she’s as beautiful as she can ever be, by the way. A lot of people haven’t seen her the way you see her, and you’re kinda glad that you get to witness that tender part of her that she rarely shows to cameras. It’s… It’s hard to describe what it means to know that someone like her finds it this easy to be herself around you, but you know it’s an honour and a blessing.

But when you're looking at her with your rose-tinted lenses stripped away from you, the notions you hold towards vulnerability become contradictory, because on one hand you know that she’ll never hurt you the way she did, but on the other you know that she’s not the same person when she’s not around you. So at the end of the day, you’re just kinda left figuring out which side of her is the real her. Do you believe what the Cho Miyeon you know tells you? Or do you believe what the Cho Miyeon the world knows? It gets confusing, makes you wonder why she ever has to put up two fronts in the first place. 

Then again, it’s not exactly her fault: she does what she has to so she can stay afloat. No industry is free from dirt. Some are just filthier than others.

I guess what I’m getting at is that… she’s this contradiction in my mind. I want to believe her, but I can’t, yet I still love her like she’s just a regular human and our lives are just a little messy. I know there's this whole argument about the fact that idols are humans too and all, but I guess it’s kinda… undermined? Yeah—undermined by the fact that they can’t exactly lead ‘normal’ lives once they’re famous. Look at me, using these big words.

So I guess… I guess dating her was like the worst of all blessings and the best of all curses. Does that make sense?

…

Ugh. I’m blabbering. 

Sorry cupcake, I’ll get back to it.)

And maybe you forget that she isn’t your girlfriend anymore, or maybe you just kinda blank out in the moment, or maybe you just wanted to do it. For whatever reason: you call her name, and when she turns, the ice pack in your hand is gently applied against her face. You don’t think much of it for like, three or four seconds. But when her wide eyes finally register in your head, there’s a moment where your breath is caught in your throat. 

This is important, so you should know: the silence is fucking deafening. 

She swallows the bit of sandwich in her mouth. “I refused to sleep with him, and he hit me like a girl. Fucking embarrassing on his part,” and there’s that smile on her face as she speaks, the same one that she loves to flash your way when she told you that she loved you. “Barely felt it. Light work.”

You can’t resist—your other hand cradles her unblemished cheek. “Miyeon…”

She closes her eyes. She knows that tone you’re using, the one that’s like ‘don’t lie to me’ or ‘it’s okay, you can tell me’. “Look: when the man that loved you the way no one else loved you breaks up with you, nothing can be more painful than that,” she whispers. Her throat bobs a little. She furrows her brows as her eyes squeezed themselves shut themselves a little tighter. “And that man is you by the way…” her voice cracks, her eyes open, “don’t know if I was clear enough.”

And you kinda have to kiss her after that. It’s a good line… and she’s, like, smoking hot right now. She always is.

The familiarity of her lips against yours almost makes you melt. The ice pack drops from your hand, your palm taking its place on her face. You kiss her like you used to. You kiss her like you want nothing else but her. You kiss her like you want nothing else but her because you want nothing else but her. She’s home – Jjamppong and Grilled Cheese with Tomato soup — and you don’t ever want her to leave again.

“I’m sorry,” she croaks, and you wipe the tear trailing down her cheek. “I should have never… We should have never—”

You shush her with your lips. She lets herself melt into you, her hands running through your hair the way she would sometimes when she called you crazy or baby. You don’t realise how much you’ve missed her touch till now.

“We were both wrong,” you tell her once you break away (rather reluctantly). “So how about we just call it a truce?”

She nods, and she does it enthusiastically. “If it’s cool with you…”

You scoff. “Why would it not be?” and your thumb gently caresses her bruise gently. You want to kill him, but you’ll save that for another time. “I’m the one who suggested it… Guess Chivalry is not all dead, huh?”

And it’s good to hear her laugh again.

“Come here you big idiot,” she giggles, and she kisses you again. 

Then you dive down to her collarbone when you can’t take it anymore. And the rest is history repeating itself.

You know: it feels like you’ve been picked up from the ground. Miyeon has come to get you… she's come to get you.

Maybe everything’s okay after all.

--

(And uh… The media covers the rest. What was it? Like, two weeks later? 

Ah whatever. You know what happens, don’t you? It’s pretty crazy, made headlines and all.

CUBE has some really good lawyers… And liars. Almost the same thing.)

--

“So that’s the story?” 

Nursing your third bottle of cider, you chuckle. You’d thought by fleshing out whole smuts in verbal form would have chased her away by now, yet here she is. Then again: she is an old friend of yours, so you guessed that she’d be rather adjusted to your bullshit. “Are you sure you’re an investigative journalist?” you question her, “I thought you’d ask something more along the lines of ‘what happens after?’.”

From across the booth seat, Chou Tzuyu shoots you a smirk. 

“The news covered it. Why should I pour salt into old wounds?” she admits. Her glass of wine swirls, manipulated expertly by her delicate fingers. “Anyway, I think I got… The main gist of it. Unless you have more information regarding the restraining order filed against you by CUBE, I have no further questions.”

You roll your eyes. No, you do not have any new information about why CUBE decided that you were a danger to Cho Miyeon, and you’ll never know if Miyeon knows either. She was out of town when it happened, and all she knows is what the news reported: you’re allegedly a stalker and hence a threat. You only know that she called and texted you frantically after, but…

You know what? Maybe you’ll think about this another time.

“You do know that, like, you're kinda bad at this right?” and you set your cider bottle aside, letting it join the almost empty whiskey bottle you bought yourself. You fold your hands and lean into the table. The world spins a little. “I don’t know why you’re prying, but I’m guessing that you heard something from the grapevine that you were itching to hear more about. Either that or you’re just… Could it be that you’re desperate to get something fresh, Miss Chou?”

She sips on her wine, leaves the question hanging in the air for a little as she swallows. 

“Keep this between us: I can’t trust Shuhua sometimes,” she muses. “If I’m gonna write about this, I’m gonna have to make sure that all the information I’ve gotten from her can be corroborated,” she pushes a wisp of hair behind her ear. “And for the record: I am not bad. I do my research as thoroughly as anyone else would—enough to know that you are someone who tells the truth.”

“So you’re saying that you trust me as a source?” you can’t help but scoff. “Me, the very guy that got fucked over by CUBE? I could be bigoted and biased for all you know. Or even worse: I’m lying.”

She smiles knowingly. “Respectfully, you have too much… personal voice in this recount that I might as well write an autobiography on your behalf.”

And she stuns you into silence. It occurs to you that you're a little drunk, and you’re pretty sure that you called this woman ‘cupcake’ multiple times. You’re not too sure; you don’t even have half a mind to know what you’re doing or saying.

Tzuyu gulps down the rest of her wine before she rises from her seat. 

“I best be going,” she opens her purse and fishes something out of it. She hands you a card, an address and a phone number handwritten onto it in what looks like a felt pen. “If you want your story to be heard, give me a call… Or a text. Whatever strikes your fancy. I’ll need a version of this that doesn’t include all the fucking and your drunk blabbering,” she shoulders her purse and smiles. “Can’t promise that I’ll buy you a drink to make you talk again, but I can treat you to some really good Chinese dumplings. Maybe we can catch up a little too. It’s been a while.”

You stare at the card, tracing the hooks and curves that form numbers and letters. Your eyes fix back on her. “Why are you doing this?”

She shrugs, and it’s not a “I dunno” type of shrug, but more like a “the proof’s in the pudding, open your fucking eyes” type of shrug. 

“I want to report the truth, and I know you well enough to know that you want that too.”

That's right. Another series. I know I'm doing everything but finishing up Beats Me, and you can go cry a river in my asks if you want. Just kidding, I love all of you, but I want to write what I want to write. Let me have my fun, would you? Also, for the record: I did not finish this 5 days after Beats Me 7. Beats Me 7 was finished before I vanished from tumblr for a bit. This has been brewing since December. You can thank long drives and Noah Kahnan for this.

Anyway, another big thank you to @defmaybe for being such a great sport and reading through the 39 page document that showed up in their discord DMs one fine day. This fic would have been full of typos and horrible grammatical errors if it weren't for them.

Stay safe, Nichu