If you are still talking requests, could you write something with Jihyo who’s older CEO vibe and she doesn’t know how to show affection well so she slowly keeps buying you more and bigger stuff and you’re like I don’t need this I just need you 😂
Jihyo only knows how to apologize with luxury and one thing you want can’t be delivered in a box ⋆˚꩜｡
Jihyo doesn’t miss dates because she doesn’t care.
She misses them because she cares too much about not letting everything fall apart.
Her company is always one deal away from either being worth billions or being torn apart by people who smile too nicely. She holds an empire together with handshakes, boardrooms, and eyes that never get enough sleep.
And then there’s you.
The one person who doesn’t want anything from her.
Which somehow makes you the hardest thing to keep.
You and Jihyo had planned dinner.
Nothing fancy.
Just a restaurant you like.
A tiny window seat.
Maybe walking home together after.
She promised she’d be there.
Again.
So you sit at the table anyway.
The restaurant plays soft music. Candlelight flickers. Other couples laugh gently around you.
You check your phone.
6:07 PM
No messages.
6:15 PM
Still nothing.
You don’t look angry.
Just tired.
By 6:32 PM, your phone lights up.
Jihyo: Baby girl, I’m so sorry
Another bubble appears.
Jihyo: They pulled me into another meeting
The typing stops.
Then starts again.
Jihyo: I don’t think I can make it :(
You stare at the screen longer than you should.
Y/N: It’s okay :)
It always is.
The smiley face is a lie, but not a spiteful one. More automatic. The kind you send when you don’t want someone to feel guilty.
You sit there another 5 minutes.
Then you pay.
Then you go home.
Jihyo comes in long after midnight.
She’s tired in a way sleep won’t fix.
Her blazer is still on. Her heels are in her hand instead of on her feet. Her hair is looser than it was this morning. Her eyes soften the second she sees you on the couch.
“You’re still awake,” she murmurs.
You shrug.
She steps closer uncertainly, like she’s afraid she forfeited the right to be near you.
“I tried to leave,” she tells you quietly. “But the investors wouldn’t stop talking and then the board called and—”
“I know,” you say gently.
She searches your face.
Not for anger.
For permission.
“I ordered something for you,” she blurts.
You blink. “What?”
“You’ll see tomorrow,” she says quickly. “From Milan.”
You laugh despite yourself. “Jihyo…”
Her shoulders relax — just a little — at the sound of her name like that.
“I just…” She rubs the back of her neck. “I wanted to make it up to you.”
“You don’t have to buy me things every time you’re busy,” you tell her softly.
She freezes.
“What?”
You stand and cross the distance between you. Take her hand into both of yours.
“I don’t need apologies with price tags,” you whisper. “I just need you.”
For a second she looks lost.
Completely lost.
Feelings are easier when they’re shaped like boxes.
When they come wrapped in silk with receipts inside.
When you can quantify care in designer labels and delivery times.
But this?
This is just you.
Standing there.
Asking for her.
And Jihyo has never been good with things she can’t control.
The next morning, 2 assistants knock on your door.
With garment bags.
And boxes.
And a phone call from Jihyo.
“Did they get there?” she asks anxiously.
“Yes,” you laugh a little. “Half of Paris did.”
“Open them,” she urges. “Please.”
Inside is a dress so beautiful your breath catches.
Perfect lines.
Soft fabric.
Luxury written into every stitch.
“I thought maybe you’d wear it the next time we go out,” she says, hesitant. “Since I ruined the first one.”
You close your eyes.
This is exactly the problem.
It keeps happening.
Next time you miss brunch — shoes arrive.
Next time you eat alone — flowers.
Next time she cancels movie night — a bag, a scarf, jewelry.
It’s like her guilt translates only into gifts.
And one day, weeks later — It finally cracks.
You come home to a small velvet box waiting on your pillow.
A necklace.
Simple.
Elegant.
Quietly expensive.
There’s a note: For being patient with me when I don’t deserve it.
That night, she comes home late again.
Drops her keys.
Loosens her tie.
And freezes when she sees you sitting at the edge of the bed.
Not smiling.
Not angry.
Just steady.
She knows something’s wrong immediately.
“Did you not like it?” she asks.
You don’t answer.
You stand instead.
And walk right up to her.
Jihyo braces herself like she expects a fight.
You unclip the necklace.
Place it gently in her palm.
“I don’t want another apology in gold,” you tell her quietly.
Her brow furrows.
“What…?”
“I don’t want Milan,” you continue. “I don’t want Paris. I don’t want presents every time you disappear.”
Her heart drops.
“I just want you to come home,” you whisper.
“Even late, tired, quiet. I just want you.”
Her hand tightens around the necklace.
You’ve never seen her this uncertain before.
The woman who owns conference rooms.
The woman who never breaks eye contact.
Now staring at you like she doesn’t know how to move.
“I don’t know how to love you correctly,” she admits at last.
Soft.
Bare.
Unedited.
“I was never taught how to stay,” she says. “Only how to provide.”
Your throat tightens.
You step closer.
“Then learn,” you whisper.
She exhales shakily.
For the first time, she doesn’t reach for her phone.
Doesn’t offer money.
She pulls you into her arms.
Clumsily.
Tightly.
Like she doesn’t trust the world not to steal you when she’s not looking.
Wow that Sana fic was beautifully written, from the wordings to emotions wth?! Def found another great Twice author! I’m not sure if you write just for Sana, or for other members too, but hear me out on this request: Jihyo x f!reader enemies to lovers (or just like thick thick tension between Jihyo and reader) w/ some smut at the end? Thank youuu
|| a drag path etched on the surface as evidence
lawyer!park jihyo x lawyerfem!reader ; angst, eventual fluff/ smut
—
synopsis: enemies to lovers au (kind of enemies). two well-known lawyers from rival firms ends up on the same case. tension has always been high between the two firms, especially between park jihyo and you. the forced proximity soon becomes something else.
tw// content: divorce// fingering, slight dirty talk, possessive nature, reader's a fucking tease until it comes back biting her ass
a/n: first anon request!!! thank you again for your lovely words, mwah mwah!! fyi,, i am not at all well-versed in the world of law or writing smut, so pls excuse all the fictional information...it's basically just hot women arguing with each other + tension...and they're also both switches, your honor, though jihyo's kind of subby ngl...not proofread, cos im lazy
wc: 4.4k
it’s been weeks since you accepted the case. weeks since you’ve started living off mediocre coffee from the coffee machine in the lounge room of the law firm. weeks since you've been cooped up in your office, your coworkers checking in from time to time. and weeks since you’ve found out that your petitioner’s lawyer is park jihyo. stone-cold face, confident aura, and stern eyes, one of the best-known lawyers in south korea at one of the most sought-after law firms in the country, TDOONG.
tension has always sparked between your law firm, TTT, and hers. they both didn’t have the best lawyers for nothing, living up to their missions and values.
you knew jihyo since the start of your law path. going to the same law school, having similar classes together, to graduating the same year (a year earlier than your peers), you two became the youngest lawyers in south korea, exemplary of young, passionate scholars.
you've never really crossed paths to be known as friends, rather distant acquaintances. it wasn't often you had competition, though you wouldn't even call it that. time to time, it was nice to get a rile out of jihyo here and there, the girl too hyper-focused and serious for her own good, that you were constantly left wondering if she has humor in her at all.
you'd also have to honestly admit, park jihyo was is a stunner. her gentle look, yet sharp features, from cheekbones to jawline, one couldn't help but stare and gawk if they were to walk past the park jihyo. posture always straight, muscles taut and defined in ways that greek sculptures were envious (you knew because you saw her at the university's gym almost every day, and no, you didn't lift, opting for something less intimidating, pilates).
and now, as you both are in rival firms, it's easier to get a reaction out of her, no matter how composed she is.
the case you picked up on isn’t anything gruesome; it was more conflicting, heartfelt, and personal…especially personal. it revolves around two parents going through the process of divorce, each is likely to get 50/50 custody of their eight-year-old daughter, hyejoo. but here is where the facts get ugly: the mother got a job offer to vancouver, canada, wanting to take her daughter with her, but the father, an elementary school teacher who is deeply rooted in his community, also wants his daughter to stay back.
it brings back memories of you being in a similar situation as a six-year-old girl holding your father’s hand as your mother steps her foot through the threshold of the door, not even daring to look back. the line she had crossed had created a vast distance between two worlds, one where you’ll never get to be in.
but she chose to leave. whereas hyejoo's mother wants to take her daughter with her.
it stung, to this day. you remembered blaming yourself over it, that you were the reason it all happened in the first place. then you started to get angry. why would your mother leave? why did she choose to leave?
it created a hollow hole in your heart, one where it took years to mend and uphold itself. you were left alone on days when mothers were suppose to come to their children’s classroom. left alone when you gave a speech about your mother in front of the class, but she was already on the other side of the world — as if you were playing the game of telephone, waiting for her reply.
nonetheless, here you are, rereading the case for the umpteenth time. your eyes bore through the thick documents of backgrounds, financial stability, and health. it didn’t help that you were on your eighth cup of coffee in the last hour, being the last one to leave your firm.
tomorrow was the first hearing, and for the first time, you felt nervous to the core. seeing that you won’t be able to focus anymore in your office, you made the decision to pack up and go back to your apartment. perhaps the different setting will allow you to focus more.
having already skipped lunch, skipping dinner would do you no good, especially when you need energy for the next day. you sighed, a big headache was already creeping its way though the crevices as you drove to a nearby convenience store.
upon pushing the door into the store, you falter for a quick second, seeing a rather familiar woman turning to leave.
“park,” you nod in acknowledgement.
the woman’s eyes scan up from her phone, gaze as always, piercing and sharp.
“l/n. a pleasure meeting you here.” jihyo nods back at you before walking past you to leave.
“let’s not act as if we’re strangers, jihyo. our confinement in court will not allow such.”
your comment makes jihyo turn around, a small scowl forming on her face. “let’s worry about our own side, hm?”
and gone she was before you could push out a reply. your headache is now pounding against the walls of your head, seeking for breakage.
—
the atmosphere being tense would be an understatement. the air was suffocating, people shifting around in their seats, the chairs creaking every once in a while. there were more people here than usual; it was a rare occurrence to see TDOONG’s and TTT’s lawyers in the same room. rivalry felt more like bloodshed than just mere competition over who’s better.
your client sits next to you, his right leg shaking with anxiety, hands folded in his lap, with his thumb rubbing over each other for comfort. his ring finger, although without the ring, still had a tan line, a faint indentation still visible from years of wearing it. the mark serves as a reminder of what was, what is, and what never will be.
across from you, jihyo was dressed in a black tailored suit, hair tied back with not one loose strand in sight. she looked polished from head to toe, standing at the opposing table as if she were born there.
after the initial swearing in of the jury and announcement: jihyo for the petitioner, you for the respondent, the trial began.
jihyo steps forward.
"your honor. my client, kim sejoo, has received a phenomenal job offer in vancouver, canada, with pay twice higher than what she is making now. the relocation with her daughter will substantially allow her to take care of herself and her child. educational opportunities for kim hyejoo will not be scarce, as well as long-term financial stability. my client proposes summer and holiday breaks of hyejoo at her father's."
professional. efficient. straight-to-the-point. jihyo's gaze shifts between her client and yours, but never at you directly.
the judge nods his head towards you.
"your honor. the child is young and still in elementary school. my client, kim daeseok, has worked at the school for years. their relationship is a close father-and-daughter bond; not something occasional, but daily. relocation would be devastating, not only for the father, but for hyejoo as well."
jihyo's voice remains steady, calm, as she counters, "with respect, geography is not the only factor that determines stability. the mother is not seeking to cut off contact. she is seeking to improve her child's future." finally looking over at you, her eyes pierce through, unwavering.
"by removing her from everything she knows? stability isn't only financial. children do not measure love in salary brackets."
you saw her hand twitch slightly on the pen she was holding. the movement was so small that one could've missed it, but not you.
jackpot.
"it serves her future," voice cool, hitting all the surfaces of the room, "broader opportunities. her mother would do much better than struggling here."
you lean forward slightly. "and what about hyejoo's present? the school she loves? the peers she'd made? the atmosphere, the culture, and the community she's grown up in?"
even from a distance, you can see jihyo's jaw tightening, but her voice continues to stay even as she responds, "children adapt."
tension can be felt trying to push through the barriers that it's been bound in, where it's been building up, overflowing; a dam ready for its collapse.
absurd, you thought. your mind flashes back to the little girl crying her eyes out, not truly understanding the situation she was placed in. spending time with her dad on mother's day, presenting a poem for mothers when hers wasn't even in the crowd, drawing pictures of just her and her dad, the place where her mother was supposed to be — used to be —was left blank. the negative space taking up so much of the space, the whiteness so blinding, she felt compelled to add something just to stop the brightness. in the end, she just left it blank, just like how her mother chose to leave her.
children don't adapt.
"children endure." a clean cut. no sharpening tools were needed to be present to know how sharp and precise the cut was.
the dam broke, water rushing uncontrollably, and it's taking you with it.
the judge calls for a brief recess.
—
you let out a loud exhale as you make your way to the vending machine, desperately needing something to calm the strong currents in your mind. as you bend down to reach for the drink, you hear heels taking swift steps, louder as they get nearer. before getting the chance to look over, you hear her voice.
"you argued like sejoo is abandoning her daughter." arms rested at her sides, but you can tell she's fighting the urge to cross them.
"no hi, hello, how are you? i thought better of you, park." you huff out. jihyo doesn't answer you. rather, she stands, waiting for you to reply to her prior statement. what a stubborn woman. she isn't as easy to get a pick at as she used to. you realized that now, she had changed, too.
you sigh, fingers coming up to pinch the bridge of your nose. "look, i see where you and your client are coming from, but you've got to understand about my client's circumstances, too. he loves hyejoo just as much as sejoo loves her. but he's trying to stay, while she's ready to scoop up her daughter to the other side of the world...it's not fair. calls do not replace presence."
jihyo stares at you, arms giving up on its side, now crossing, fingers tapping impatiently.
"you take these personally, l/n?"
you stare back at her, just as intently.
"only when they matter."
she watches you a second longer than needed before glancing at her watch and turning back towards the courtroom.
—
people shuffle back in, anticipation at the tip, ready to pierce the iceberg.
the back and forth continues, both of you waiting for the other to break.
from the corner of your eyes, you can see daeseok's hands trembling, fingers lightly scratching at the line on his ring finger, his teeth gnawing his lower lip, picking at the dry skin.
"my client simply refuses to become a visitor in his daughter's life."
the refute comes in just as easily, "and my client refuses to stagnate because her ex-husband is comfortable."
you can see jihyo taking a small breath in before proceeding, "your honor, we ask that the court preserve the status quo pending a full evidentiary hearing."
silence hits the room once again. arrangements of papers can be heard from the judge shuffling through them. he looks over his glasses before clearing his throat,
"the court will maintain the current 50/50 arrangement. the child shall not be removed from the jurisdiction until further hearings. mediation is ordered. an evidentiary hearing will be set for december 3rd."
the gavel strikes down, deafening. you peer over at jihyo, who happens to look right back at you, once again, with that stern look on her face.
—
you gather yourself up from your side of the table, piling up folders of documents and notes. briefly discussing the next steps, you shook hands with your client before he had to excuse himself for a school meeting.
loosening your tie and unbuttoning your blazer, your eyes can't help but wander to jihyo's side. she's still talking to her client, one of her hands placed on the mother's shoulder, most likely offering comfort.
you could tell: jihyo was here to win, to conquer, to live up to the name that TDOONG holds itself. and nothing was going to stop that.
finally averting your gaze, you swiftly pack up the rest of your materials into your briefcase and put on your coat. the air is lighter outside than in the courtroom, as if you finally emerged from the water that was drowning you earlier.
taking out your phone from your pocket, you turned off do not disturb for the time being, checking the notifications you've missed. you absentmindedly scroll through the work emails, huffing out a small laugh at the work group chat — one of your coworkers, sana, accidentally sent a message to the wrong group, and mina reprimanding her in the process saying how it is unprofessional (though, it doesn't really matter since you're all great colleagues and friends outside of work, anyway. mina's just doing it for the sake of a reminder, just in case this happens in a professional setting, but not of malice otherwise).
however, after getting through most of it, your thumb hovers over a specific notification, or rather, a chain of notifications in your messages. multiple text messages from an unknown number were sent:
unknown number:
hey, y/n.
unknown number:
it's mom.
i know you have many questions on why i'm reaching out to you or how i know your number.
unknown number:
i am back in seoul for a little while. if you could give me a chance of your time, even just for a little bit, i would love to have a chat with you over coffee.
let me know.
you dropped your phone in disbelief. what the hell? a time zone difference, a stretch of vast oceans, an abstract concept, a blank space on white paper. a mere memory hard to forget. your turmoil starts to build up. god, you desperately need a break.
before even having time to compose yourself and pick up your phone, ready to reread those messages, hoping your eyes are not deceiving you from having your head in piles of papers for so long, you hear the same clack of heels right behind you.
a slight whiff of the cinnamon citrus perfume has you knowing that it is no other than park jihyo.
you don't realize you've stopped breathing until —
"l/n." you close your eyes for a brief second, emotions overexhausted as your throat feels like it's constricting itself.
breathe. breathe. breathe.
exhaling shakily, you bend down to pick up your phone from the ground and turn around to face jihyo.
jihyo stands a few steps behind you, still looking as pristine as when you first saw her in the courtroom. though now, you can see the faint lines of eye bags under the light. she looks much softer than before, her shoulders slightly drooping and more relaxed, tired.
"you forgot this." in her hand was your pen, a specialized one with your name engraved on it, a gift from mina for your two-year anniversary at the law firm.
reaching out to grab it, you try your best to keep your hand from shaking, "thank you. i owe you one." however, from the light furrow of her brows, you knew she saw.
"are you alright?"
"i'm fine," you answer a bit too fast, making jihyo inhale sharply, "you know, just the seoul weather creeping up. it's a bit chillier than i expected," you lightly force out a laugh.
her eyes roam around your faces, not intimately nor deeply, but enough to have you shrink back, suddenly feeling vulnerable under the lampposts adorning the front of the courthouse.
"will this affect mediation?" of course, it's not park jihyo if it doesn't involve work.
"no, it will not," your jaw tightens involuntarily. you realized she saw through it all.
" i'd appreciate a copy of any supplemental affidavits you intend to file prior to mediation," she continues, eyes narrowing, "everyone's time is wasted on ambush tactics."
you scoff lightly, "you don't give me enough credit, park. i prefer winning cleanly."
another notification comes through in the midst of it all. lifting your phone to get a preview, the light cutting through:
unknown number:
i know i hurt you. you can ignore this if you wish to.
your vision blurs for a second, your ears start to ring, until you realize you can't break down right now, especially not in front of jihyo.
"l/n," her voice comes through, gentler this time, "you're shaking."
you hadn't noticed. too busy focusing on too many things at once.
straightening up immediately, slipping your phone in your coat pocket.
"it's nothing. i'm fine."
"that wasn't a question."
"jihyo-" irritation starts creeping up. your defensive instinct kicks in, "you don't need to interrogate me outside of the courtroom, too. what happened to worrying about our own side?"
"i don't want you to bring whatever this is into mediation. i have eyes, i'm not blind. i can tell this case is draining you..." she pauses for a quick second, "...personally. i need you present and clear, y/n."
you realized now that you weren't attacking her client or protecting yours. rather, you've been protecting a version of yourself that you've long hidden away, suppressed.
your gaze softens. her voice grounded you as the breeze picked up, blowing her hair lightly, and for once, she was not only polished but infuriatingly beautiful.
"finally calling me by my first name, park?"
if it wasn't for the light shining down directly on her face, you would've missed the slight blush creeping up on her cheeks.
you giggle as she tries to blubber out an answer, finally seeing a side you've rarely seen her adorning in: relaxed, calm, and lost for words. confidence wavering, fingers gripping her coat sleeves, a total 180 from when you both were in the courtroom.
saving her from further embarrassment, you ask, "coffee? for bringing my pen to me. and no, not coffee here, perhaps a cafe."
her eyes widen in surprise, looking at her watch on her wrist before looking back at you, "yeah, coffee sounds good," exhaling softly.
"not bad, park. i'd thought you'd decline," smiling satisfactorily, you walk off. without glancing back, you continued over your shoulder, "i'll text you the address. i'm sure you still have my contacts saved, yeah?"
"n-no, i do not!" hearing jihyo walk the opposite direction to her car answers your question, making you laugh out loud.
you can’t fix something that was never broken, just something that stopped existing.
that's right. your mother stopped existing in your world. and the only way to keep it whole is to leave it that way.
—
the evidentiary hearing happened a few weeks later. park jihyo as calculated as ever. firm. steadfast, and charming. her questions were concise and succinct, with not one falter in sight.
however, at one point near the closing of the hearing, jihyo saw it. your emotions were piling up from their existence, like a volcano—a rendezvous leading to unmitigated friction, collision, and then an eruption.
the ruling of the verdict came two weeks later.
the judge began, "the court finds that both parents have demonstrated deep commitment to the child," a pause, "however, the court concludes that the relocation request is made in good faith and offers significant financial opportunity after reviewing the evidence presented."
you inhaled, already knew what was coming next.
"the petition to relocate is granted."
from your peripheral, you can feel the father exhaling raggedly next to you. across, you see visibly see the mother's shoulders relaxing in relief.
the judge proceeded with the order, outlining extended summer visitation rights for the father, alternating holiday arrangements — travel expenses to be shared, and daily video contact between the child and the father.
once the hearing ended, you shook hands with your client and arranged a time for further information on moving forward with the relocation.
upon packing up, you sense her presence before you could even look up,
"you argued well, l/n."
"likewise, park." making eye contact with her, you can see that she was deep in thought.
"coffee? my treat this time."
you smile, nodding your head.
you've come to terms that park jihyo is not just a stubborn woman, but also free, bold, and a bit mischievous.
—
you also learn that yes, park jihyo is in fact humorous, way more than you expected. your conversations flow easily, from work, to family, to your own past.
too easily that irregular coffee ask becomes weekly, to soon becoming dinners.
until now, barely getting used to the darkness of jihyo's flat, before you find yourself pushed against the front door by toned arms, hungry lips finding yours like a tsunami, rushing and pushing. her lips start descending down to your neck — biting, sucking, licking, soothing — while her fingers start unbuttoning your work blazer, then your work blouse.
"fuck—! j-jihyo! not there, i— got a case in t-two days."
"you have a beautiful woman on you right now, who's about to give you the best orgasm of your life, and you're worried about some damn case right now?" jihyo growls. the noise sends a shock down your spine straight to your core, ruining your panties.
you hated losing, especially when it comes to jihyo.
"i'm going to give you the best orgasm of your life." jihyo whimpers at your voice, her mouth gravitates back towards your neck as if it's meant to be there. "let me. you did win the case between us after all. treat it as an award from me to you, yea?"
you both shuffle into the bedroom, a trail of clothes left behind like a quiet confession in its wake.
jihyo lands first on the bed with you between her legs, her elbows holding her up, one of her hands coming up to comb her hair back.
"show me what you got, l/n," licking her lips afterwards.
saying nothing, you dive in for a kiss — wet and dirty — teeth clashing, tongues exploring all the ridges and linings.
jihyo lets out a loud gasp when her bra gets discarded easily, the cool air hitting her chest instantly. your hands start grabbing and pinching each nipple. moving your head down to her neck, you start nipping, biting down harshly at one of her pulse points, eliciting a loud whine.
"you're already so sensitive, and all i've done is touch you."
"s-shut up!"
you take one of her nipples in your mouth, while one of your hands occupies the other, index and thumb pinching, pulling, and rolling, the other faintly scratching her abs. you enjoy all the noises that come out of jihyo, knowing you're the only one who can make her like this.
leaning back with an audible pop, you smirk down at jihyo: unprofessional, messy, disheveled, and incredibly wet, if the dark, wet patch on her underwear is anything to go by.
finally going towards where she wants you, you take the hem of her panties between your teeth and pull downwards, all while she stares right back at you, eyes half-lidded, chest heaving heavily.
successfully removing the last piece of clothing, you can't help but stare, mouth watering at the sight.
"s-stop staring-" her voice cuts off with a sharp inhale. your right hand trails lightly from her knee to her inner thigh, to finally touch her cunt, index and middle fingers lazily sliding up and down, mesmerized by the sight.
"and stop t-teasing—fuck!" a loud whine rips through as you push in a finger without warning. her folds enveloping you easily, as if she were a mold made perfectly for you.
"you're so fucking loud and whiny, hyo. you don't want to wake up your neighbors now, do you?" your finger slowly roams around, exploring, rubbing, feeling the bumps and ridges.
"f-fuck you!"
you laugh lowly, "i am, pretty. fucking you, i mean," you add another finger, hearing another loud moan, her eyes glued shut, hands pulling the sheets tightly towards her. you take your time, pulling your fingers out slowly before pushing them back in quickly, the squelching sound embarrassingly echoes. a particular hard thrust right at the spot makes her wail.
"tsk, do you want everyone to hear how improper you are? just. so. improper. and. tight." each word punctuated with a thrust. your free hand goes to her clit, thumb rubbing circles carelessly, earning another moan that you happily drown in.
"all for me right, hyo?" fingers pushing deep and up towards that one spot repeatedly, having already know what makes park jihyo break.
"mm," jihyo tries, "a-all, shit—all for you! only you, fuck!" you smirk proudly, adding another finger into the mess, as well as more pressure on her clit. the slippery mess spreads all over her inner thighs, dripping gorgeously onto your wrist.
"please, 'm close." you feel her clenching tightly with every thrust. leaning down, you leave sloppily wet kisses at every expanse of her skin, smooth and free, all for you to mark. nosing your way up to her ear, you bit down before rasping out,
"come for me, pretty girl." a whimper turn moan breaks through, loud and throaty, enough for you to know that her neighbors will, in fact, come knocking at the door tomorrow. jihyo shudders against you as you help her ride out her orgasm, fingers still pushing in and out. the wetness pools on the sheet, surely spreading everywhere. what a pretty mess.
feeling jihyo squirm a bit, you pull out gently, earning a whimper.
shamelessly wiping your hands on the sheets, you give her temple a kiss, before moving down for a deep kiss, less teeth and tongue, more feelings and passion. you pull away slowly, a string of spit trailing between both of you. you stutter for a second, seeing a dangerous glint in jihyo's eyes.
"think you can refute that, hyo? what happened to that running mouth of yours, baby?" looking down at her, breathlessly beautiful and sprawled out for you. you slowly sink closer again, lightly kissing parts of her throat that you know have her gasping.
when jihyo finally recovers, she husks out the words that got her feeling your moan against her neck before hearing it,
synopsis - as the new, maknae, and tenth member of the girlgroup twice, you fit in easily—building friendships and charming fans. but with jihyo, it’s different—tense, uncertain, and charged. when jealousy, unspoken feelings, and undeniable attraction finally collide in a sweltering hotel room, the line between tension and an illicit affair blurs. part one.
pairing - park jihyo x afab!reader.
note — ageless, minor, male blogs will be blocked if interacting with mine.
link for part one is in the synopsis note! enjoy xx
⸻
tour begins again.
bangkok. malaysia next.
the last verse hits like a blade.
you drop into it with no warning—spit each bar low, steady, dangerous.
your voice is all smoke and bite, pulled tight over that beat like leather over knuckles.
your flow hits so hard the floor shakes beneath it.
your body follows—shoulders sharp, footwork clean, hips riding the bass like you were born for it.
the lights strobe once, twice—then blackout.
and the crowd erupts.
screams ripple like fire across the stadium.
someone’s crying in the front row.
someone else just yelled marry me.
you don’t hear it. you’re too busy trying to steady your own breathing.
because you just burned that stage down.
and you know it.
and then backstage is chaos—hair stuck to sweat, stage crew praising, mic packs being ripped off. adrenaline crashing.
you barely make it through the wings before you’re swallowed.
“okay. what the hell was that?!” nayeon grabs your arm, spinning you half-around. “that verse—that voice—when did you get hot like that?!”
“she’s always been hot,” jeongyeon says, throwing a towel at your chest. “you just finally opened your eyes.”
chaeyoung slides in behind you, arms around your waist, chin hooked on your shoulder as she stands on her tiptoes. “you wanna explain why my soul left my body during your verse?”
“same,” momo adds, fanning herself with both hands. “i blacked out halfway through and my knees almost gave out. also, did you growl?”
“she absolutely did,” dahyun confirms. “did you hear the screams after? the fans liked it.”
“and we all liked it.” tzuyu, helpfully, deadpans whilst sipping her water like it’s an offering.
“you’re all so embarrassing,” mina says her eyes narrowing before she turns to you with a serious demeanour. “do it again next show.”
you’re laughing—so much that you almost fall off the chair you’re on.
you haven’t even caught your breath when sana appears like gravity itself and drops straight into your lap.
you grunt—half-surprised, half-dazed.
she straddles you with zero hesitation, arms around your neck, forehead pressed to yours.
“i think i need you to do that performance again,” she says, voice breathless. “but, like—alone. for me.”
you raise a brow. “you gonna pay for VIP?”
“baby,” she grins, “i am VIP.”
nayeon throws a towel at both of you and scoffs in fake disgust.
jeongyeon mutters “get a room.”
chaeyoung’s taking a picture.
you just tip your head back against the chair and laugh.
and then, across the room. jihyo.
she’s seated, towel loose around her shoulders, bottle untouched in her lap.
her gaze is fixed on you. but not like the others.
not teasing. not playful. just—still.
you feel it. like a hand pressing softly on your chest.
because while the others flirt and play, she’s not moving. not talking.
just watching you.
and you can’t read her expression. not fully.
but maybe—
maybe she doesn’t even know what she’s feeling
herself.
because you didn’t just perform.
you took over.
and now everyone wants a piece of you.
but jihyo?
she’s not reaching for you.
she’s just sitting there—wrecked.
wondering if she’s the only one who didn’t realise how far ahead of her you’ve already run.
⸻
the studio’s sleek and softly lit, the kind of place where everything feels a little too polished. the air smells faintly like fresh coffee and nerves.
the interviewer is beautiful. sharp-eyed, perfectly styled. calm in a way that makes you sit straighter than you mean to.
she keeps smiling at you.
half of the group’s lined up on a long couch, the others on stools placed carefully behind it.
you’re seated near the center, legs crossed, mic clipped to your collar. jihyo’s down the line, quiet, focused. her hands folded neatly in her lap.
“thank you all for being here,” the interviewer says, smiling warmly. “first of all, congratulations on picking up the second leg of what seems to be an incredible tour.”
“thank you,” nayeon says, bright as ever. “we’re only just beginning to recover.”
“emotionally, no,” jeongyeon mutters. “physically, definitely not—all of my muscles are so sore.”
laughter drifts across the couch.
the interviewer glances down at her cards, then back at you.
“and, y/n—especially you.”
you glance up.
“me?”
“yes,” she says, her smile deepening. “your solo moment in the final show… that had the internet in pieces.”
you laugh softly. “it wasn’t that serious.”
“oh, but it was,” she says. “the edits. the fancams. the reactions. i think you officially broke twitter.”
“and several hearts,” momo adds, putting her hand over her own. “i, for one, am still not over it.”
“you were everywhere,” chaeyoung says. “people were calling you their villain arc.”
“i think one fan wrote a poem,” tzuyu laughs, sincere.
“i read it,” mina murmurs. “it was kind of beautiful.”
you tilt your head. “should i be flattered or worried?”
“both,” nayeon says. “leaning flattered.”
the interviewer tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. “the reaction was especially strong among women,” she says casually, though her eyes land on you again. “you’ve built a huge female fanbase.”
you smile, dipping your head.
“they’re… cool,” you say. “very creative.”
“and very vocal,” jeongyeon says, grinning, slapping the back of your head lightly.
then the interviewer shifts a little, turning down the line.
“jihyo,” she says, her tone softening. “as the leader, what’s it like seeing y/n—your youngest member—step so fully into the spotlight like this?”
the group quiets slightly.
you glance over—jihyo’s fiddling with her acrylics.
“honestly,” she begins, voice even but not flat, “it’s exactly what we’ve all seen coming.”
your chest tightens—just a bit.
“she’s always worked hard,” jihyo continues. “consistently. quietly. even when no one’s watching.”
you try not to move. not to react.
“and now that people are watching,” jihyo says, “i think they’re just catching up to what we’ve known. and i can’t blame them for falling for y/n.”
mina smiles softly beside you, hand gently but affectionately tapping your thigh whilst sana shifts closer to you, nodding gently, but your stomach tightens from jihyo’s words.
“she’s earned this,” jihyo adds. “every part of it.”
you feel a few light slaps on your left shoulder blade—dahyun, you think.
“and i’m proud of her,” jihyo finishes. “so, ridiculously proud of her showcasing her talent.”
you glance down at your hands. you don’t smile fully. but something flickers in your chest.
the interviewer nods slowly, like she wasn’t expecting quite so much honesty.
then nayeon perks up before she leans forward slightly, a sense of playfulness showing in the glittering of her eyes. “what about you?” she asks. “what do you think of y/n?”
the room goes still for a beat.
your head whips toward her.
so does jihyo’s.
“me?” the interviewer blinks. “oh—i—well, um… i think she’s—” she clears her throat and straightens her cards, her cheeks flushing pink.
“she’s very… charismatic,” she trips on her words. “on stage, of course. very focused. umm, and charming.”
“charming?” nayeon echoes, delighted.
“yes. very,” the interviewer says again. too quickly.
you bite your lip to keep from laughing.
sana nudges your arm and whispers, “you’re blushing.”
you are not. probably.
jihyo’s gaze is sharp now. not at the interviewer.
not at you. just at the table. hands folded too tightly.
the moment passes. the conversation moves. but you feel it. her silence. the weight in the few words she does say for the rest of the interview.
and the tension in her knuckles.
and for once, she doesn’t know if it’s jealousy she’s hiding, or something else entirely.
⸻
you board a little late, after the press shuffle, after the flashes, after the last security sweep.
by the time you reach the cabin, everything is hushed.
first class is dim, private.
just the nine of you scattered across staggered window seats, angled like little islands.
curtains drawn despite it being midday.
the plane smells like clean air and exhaustion.
you slide into your seat—second row window. noise-cancelling headphones looped lazily around your neck. a blanket folded tight on your lap.
you try to get comfortable.
you try to sleep. but your eyes keep shifting.
keep drifting forward.
keep finding her.
jihyo.
first row. same side of the plane.
hood down. seat slightly reclined. arm stretched along the divider. long legs drawn up loosely beneath the blanket, ankles crossed.
she’s not doing anything special—just breathing, just resting. but you can’t stop looking. her posture. her collarbone. the shape of her shoulder under soft cotton. the way her hand flexes, barely visible, where it rests against her thigh.
you turn back to your screen. open a movie you’ve already seen.
ten minutes go by. you check the time twice.
and then your gaze drifts back. again.
jihyo hasn’t moved though her head’s tilted slightly toward the window now, like she’s watching the wing lights blink in the dark.
you wonder if she knows.
you adjust your blanket. plug your headphones in. scroll. pause.
your eyes flick forward. again.
this time, it’s the curve of her jaw. the pale glow of the cabin lights on her cheek.
it has you exhaling, quiet. controlled.
jeongyeon, across the aisle, is already out cold. tzuyu’s murmuring something to dahyun two rows back. sana’s curled in her seat like a cat.
and you—?
you haven’t said a word. haven’t looked for conversation. haven’t even tried.
because even now, with distance and silence and private space,
your attention keeps falling in one direction.
her.
you wonder how long it’ll take before she notices.
or if she already has.
and just isn’t looking back.
⸻
the landing feels soft, but the heat hits hard.
as soon as the cabin doors open, it floods in—thick, heavy, clinging to skin like syrup. the airport air is all warm tile, murmured announcements, and damp clothes under layered outfits.
you move through immigration half-asleep, sunglasses low. outside, fans scream your name from behind barriers, but it all feels muted—dreamlike.
the van ride is silent. sweat collects at your spine.
jihyo sits next to you this time.
you don’t speak. not that you ever really do.
but even in silence, you can feel her skin close. her thigh brushing yours every time the van turns too sharply. her breath just within reach.
by the time you reach the hotel, it’s evening.
the city outside the tinted windows glows soft orange. people still out, the humidity curling around streetlamps like smoke.
check-in is brief. your bags are already upstairs. keys are handed out.
and then—
“room 1804,” staff says, handing two keys.
to you.
and to jihyo.
your brows lift.
jihyo’s don’t.
she just takes hers quietly.
you follow the bellhop to the elevator.
barely speak as you ride up.
feel your stomach buzz the closer the numbers climb.
⸻
the hotel hallway is cool compared to outside, but not by much. everything smells like soft carpet, lemon cleaner, and too much silence.
you unlock the door to room 1804.
jihyo steps in behind you.
the first thing you notice is the bed. just one. wide, low, crisp white sheets. centered like it owns the room.
the second thing you notice is the air. or—lack of it. thick. unmoving. heavy like held breath.
jihyo crosses the room to the wall unit. presses a button. nothing. again. the fan growls, tries, fails.
you press the hotel phone to your ear.
“hi—yeah. sorry, the ac’s out?” pause. “…oh. right. thanks.”
you hang up. “they’ll send someone in the morning.”
jihyo nods. her voice is even. “okay.”
you set your bag down near the foot of the bed.
your shirt is already damp at the collar.
jihyo pulls her hoodie off first, revealing a pale tank top clinging just slightly to her back.
your eyes flick up before you can stop them—just a glance. the line of her spine. her shoulder blades. the smooth pull of fabric when she lifts her hair to tie it up.
you look away.
the heat settles like a second skin.
neither of you talk—just quiet movement, clothes pulled from bags, water bottles half-drunk and forgotten on the nightstand.
“i’m gonna shower,” you murmur eventually, voice low from heat or something else.
jihyo doesn’t look up from her phone. just nods once. “go ahead.”
and you do.
you walk towards the bathroom whilst reaching for your shirt.
as you lift it, she moves behind you—quiet, slow.
you don’t see her lift her head. don’t see the way her gaze follows the slope of your waist, the faint sheen on your chest, the way your breath catches just slightly before you drop the shirt to the side.
jihyo lies back on the bed, staring at the ceiling.
the fan still isn’t working.
but now, the heat isn’t what’s bothering her.
you take your time.
not too long.
but long enough that she starts thinking.
about your skin. your voice. your gaze on the plane. your silence. you.
the door finally opens, and you step into the room barefoot.
she doesn’t look up. not right away.
but her gaze lifts as you pass her. just once.
your hair’s wet, towel. wrapped around your body. your feet bare against the tile.
a flick of her gaze—quick, quiet, a split-second trace of your hip, the drop of water trailing down your neck.
then gone.
she stands as you cross the room. grabs her own towel wordlessly. brushes past you at the bathroom door.
you don’t speak. neither does she.
the door shuts behind her. the water starts.
your phone vibrates whilst you towel dry your hair, and it has you changing into a cropped tee, pulling on a pair of shorts and some shoes before grabbing your keycard and putting it in your phonecase.
when jihyo comes out—fresh shirt, skin flushed, hair wet—the room’s dim.
and you’re gone.
no footsteps. no echo. just empty space.
she picks up her phone.
mina [8:08 pm]: sana and i are taking her
mina [8:08 pm]: just for a bit
mina [8:08 pm]: don’t wait up, we’ll be late
jihyo doesn’t respond.
just sits at the edge of the bed, towel still in her hands, heart somewhere even further away.
and for once, there’s no heat in the room.
just the cold that comes after someone leaves.
⸻
outside the hotel window, headlights slide across high-rises, motorbikes hum below, neon signs blink through the haze.
inside the room, it’s still.
jihyo lies on her side. not asleep. not even close. not when the sheet sticks to her thigh. her shirt is damp at the collar.
the air hasn’t shifted once since you left.
she hasn’t looked at her phone since mina’s message.
just the slow blink of the city on the ceiling and the empty weight of your side of the bed.
until—voices. soft at first. rising. the muffled chime of the elevator moving again. the echo of sandals on tile. a laugh. yours. clear, bright, loose with air.
and she freezes.
there it is again—softer this time, layered with a teasing voice that sounds much too like sana’s.
mina says something next, and the three of you burst into low, hushed laughter. closer now. the hallway. just outside the door.
jihyo doesn’t move. not even when she hears the keycard beep. the gentle click of the lock.
the door eases open. a shoulder bumps it wider.
you slip in first—still laughing under your breath, trying to be quiet and failing just a little.
sana and mina hover in the doorway behind you.
someone says “sleep well.”
you murmur back, and jihyo hates how she can hear you smiling. and then the door shuts.
jihyo lies still. eyes wide open.
you pause in the dark, probably thinking she’s asleep.
you peel your clothes off, tossing them onto the chair, pulling on an oversized tee.
the bed’s there. the silence waits. jihyo waits.
but instead—you turn toward the bathroom.
the door creaks open. the light flickers on. soft. low. you don’t close the door fully behind you.
water runs.
you lean over the sink, splash once—twice—cool water on your face. your shirt sticks to your spine. your pulse’s steady now, but your skin feels raw under the fluorescent light.
you brush your teeth next. slow. focused. just something to do with your hands.
in the mirror, your eyes flick toward the door.
quiet. still cracked open. still dark beyond it. you spit. rinse. wipe your mouth. turn off the light. and the bathroom clicks shut behind you.
the bed shifts slightly when you crawl into it.
you move slowly. carefully. like you don’t want to wake her. you don’t know she’s not asleep. you don’t know she heard you splash water against your neck, or open the cabinet too fast, or hum under your breath as you rinsed. you don’t know she listened to all of it, lying there in the dark, eyes open, mouth closed, hands clenched under the sheet.
you slide in beneath the covers. face away from her. your breath steadies. hers doesn’t.
neither of you say anything.
but the silence between you is louder than it’s ever been.
and neither of you know what it’ll sound like when it finally breaks.
⸻
“so, did you sleep last night?” nayeon asks, swirling her iced coffee like it’s a weapon. “or just marinate in shared suffering?”
you stretch lazily in your chair. “overheat. sweat. maybe even spiritual death.”
“could’ve come to me,” momo says, poking at her breakfast whilst nudging your leg with her knee. “my bed’s cold and i run cooler than a fan.”
“same,” tzuyu offers calmly. “climate control queen. i don’t even generate heat.”
“you’d have been safe with me,” nayeon sighs dreamily, elbow propped up on the table, palm supporting her face whilst she gazes into the distance. “gentle arms. soft skin. pretty face, perfect snuggle pressure.”
you raise your brows at them. “i had no idea you were all so eager.”
“i think you mean desperate.” jeongyeon corrects.
sana, seated opposite you, leans in slowly, elbow on the table, head in her hand, lips curved into something that’s not quite a smile but something more dangerous. “you should’ve come to me,” she purrs, voice low. “i’d have let you sleep right up against me if it was what you wanted.”
you don’t blink. “honestly? i’m pretty sure it would’ve been even hotter.”
sana tilts her head, eyes narrowing just slightly. “you and me together?” a beat. “we’d have have made it worse. we’d have ruined the sheets and broken the thermostat.”
the table explodes.
“i was right here!” nayeon groans. “i offered myself first!”
“are you serious?” momo cries. “i gave you perfect airflow!”
“and yet she chose chaos,” tzuyu mutters, sipping her drink.
“whatever happened to decorum, people?” jeongyeon shouts but everyone ignores her.
“this is rigged! why does sana always get the good stuff?” nayeon complains, snatching her glass off the table, huffing.
sana just smirks, tapping your glass with hers and winking. “clearly, she knows quality when she sees it.”
you smile, unbothered.
“i mean… tzuyu’s offer is tempting. no sweat, no heat, no noise? and, you know, it’s tzuyu? kind of hard to beat.”
tzuyu lifts a shoulder, smug. “i know.”
“i really was considering it,” you add then your gaze drifts.
mina.
seated next to sana.
quiet. elegant. always watching. always composed.
and you lean forward slightly. voice lower. smile slower. “but if i really needed to cool down,” you say, eyes on her, “i’d ask mina.”
the table quiets a little.
“oh?” momo says.
“why her?” nayeon demands.
you don’t look away. “because she’s cold where it counts,” you say. “but i get the feeling if i climbed into her bed… i wouldn’t be sleeping.”
the table goes still for half a second.
mina’s gaze on you is calm from over the top of her glass. steady. borderline dangerous. “you say that like i wouldn’t let you come back out,” she says.
you blink once. your smile spreads, slow. “would you?”
mina tilts her head slightly, like she’s assessing a puzzle she’s already solved. “depends,” she says, lips curling into a small smirk. “how good are you at keeping quiet?”
“if you’re trying to fluster me,” you say, voice smooth as silk, “you’ll have to try harder.”
mina’s grin sharpens. “good. i like a challenge.”
and that’s when the table loses it.
“i hate it here!” nayeon yells, slamming her hands on the table for dramatic effect.
“mina?” momo gasps. “you enabled her?!”
“you’re feeding the beast!” jeongyeon accuses.
tzuyu looks personally betrayed. “this is the worst breakfast of my life.”
you just sip your juice.
mina doesn’t break eye contact. neither do you.
and across the table—
jihyo hasn’t spoken once. she hasn’t laughed. hasn’t smiled. but her glass is empty now.
and her eyes haven’t left you since you said bed.
⸻
the hallway is cool in theory, air-conditioned and dim, but your shirt still sticks to the small of your back.
the laughter from the breakfast room fades behind you—nayeon shouting something about betrayal, momo swearing revenge, tzuyu telling everyone to grow up with a roll of her eyes, all whilst jeongyeon runs away.
you walk in silence beside jihyo.
not close. but close enough that your arm brushes hers once as you press the elevator button.
she doesn’t move away.
the doors slide open. empty.
you step in. she follows.
the doors close with a quiet thunk.
the stillness settles fast.
you shift your weight. glance up at the soft lighting. the slow tick of floor numbers overhead.
jihyo stands just to your left.
perfect posture. arms crossed. eyes forward.
you don’t speak. neither does she. but the air is thicker than it should be.
you swallow once. it echoes.
your voice is low when you finally speak.
“you didn’t say much at breakfast.”
jihyo doesn’t turn. doesn’t blink.
“there wasn’t much to say.”
you look at her.
her profile is sharp. jaw tight.
“you sure?” you ask, softer now. “felt like a lot of things were being said.”
she exhales once—quiet. through her nose.
then turns her head slightly, finally looking at you. “and you said them to everyone but me.”
it lands between you like a stone.
you hold her gaze.
the numbers tick up. one floor. two.
you take a slow breath.
step just half a pace closer.
“you never gave me space to.”
jihyo doesn’t back away.
but her throat moves as she swallows.
once.
“maybe i didn’t want to hear it,” she says.
barely above a whisper.
you smile—tired, quiet, not cocky this time.
“then why are you listening now?”
silence again.
floor four.
floor five.
the heat presses in.
your arm brushes hers again. slower this time.
the elevator dings.
the doors open. but neither of you move. not for a second. you just stand there. too close. too still.
finally—quietly—jihyo steps out first. you follow.
neither of you speak again until the room door clicks shut behind you.
and even then—
the heat has only started to rise.
the moment the door shuts behind you, it’s like stepping into a sealed box of heat.
stale, unmoving.
your breath catches a little, sweat already re-collecting at your neck.
jihyo doesn’t say anything.
she walks in and drops her keycard on the desk. it lands with a soft clack.
you peel your shoes and socks off in silence.
your shirt is damp. your spine feels sticky.
jihyo pulls her hair up with one hand, twists it, clips it lazily to keep it off her neck.
the move is effortless. familiar.
but it does something to you.
you cross to the window. check if it opens. it doesn’t.
“they still haven’t fixed the ac?” you ask.
your voice sounds thinner in the heat.
“nope,” she says, sitting on the edge of the bed. “they said maybe after lunch.”
you nod once. turn back around.
she’s staring at the floor.
you grab two water bottles from the mini fridge, offering one wordlessly.
she takes it. your fingers brush.
and you feel it again—that same current that’s been running between you for weeks now, low and slow and sharp.
she drinks half the bottle in one go.
you don’t look at her mouth, but you do.
you sit in the chair by the desk, lean back, legs stretched.
the silence expands. but not in a comfortable way.
you tilt your head. break it first.
“so what was it?”
she doesn’t look up and you know she’s going to feign innocence. “what was what?”
you pause.
“the reason,” you say quietly. “you pulled away.”
she exhales through her nose. quiet.
“I didn’t pull away.”
“you didn’t come close.”
silence.
“jihyo.”
her head lifts, slowly. you hold her gaze.
“you pulled away, and you stayed away. and every time i got close, you shut it down.”
the air between you hums.
you see it in her eyes—the flicker of something she wants to say and hasn’t.
“you were getting close to everyone,” she says finally. “not just me.”
your brows lift slightly.
“and that bothered you?”
her mouth presses into a line. her fingers tighten around the water bottle.
you stand and you walk across the small space. stop in front of her.
the heat clings to both of you. and it not just from the weather.
“jihyo,” you murmur, lower now. “say it.”
she looks up at you.
eyes dark. unreadable.
but her breathing shifts.
and then—
she stands. close. too close.
her chest nearly touches yours.
her voice barely carries. “you drive me crazy.”
you exhale through your nose. “yeah?”
“you flirt with everyone. laugh. lean in. touch their arms. let them touch you. you’re everywhere.”
your breath catches.
“but you don’t do that with me,” she says. quiet. fierce. “like it’s some sort of game.”
“no,” you whisper. “it’s not.”
you’re both standing in thick air, eyes locked, barely breathing.
her eyes trail all over your face and stop at your lips, her tongue darting out to wet her own.
neither of you move.
until she blinks in recognition and steps back.
“i need a cold shower,” she says, voice tight.
you don’t stop her.
you just stand there, heart loud in your chest, as she disappears into the bathroom.
the door shuts. water starts.
you sit back on the bed.
the room still hot. the silence finally cracked.
and none of this is going back to what it was.
you don’t expect the door to open again so soon.
but when it does—jihyo stands there.
bare.
dripping.
cold water running down her skin in clean, ruthless lines.
she doesn’t say a word.
she just looks at you.
like she’s already made her choice.
your body moves before your thoughts catch up.
you’re off the bed, shedding your clothes fast—no pause, no shame, nothing but heat thrumming in your chest.
she steps back into the shower.
you follow her in.
and then it’s just skin.
cold water.
wet hands.
slick bodies.
and hunger.
you’re on her before you breathe.
her mouth crashes to yours—hot, open, messy.
your fingers dig into her waist, hers twist into your wet hair.
you kiss like you’ve both been waiting to tear something open.
like restraint was a joke you’re done playing.
she gasps when you bite her lip.
moans when your hand slips lower, grips tighter, pulls her closer.
your thighs press together.
your mouths part only when you’re both out of air—and even then, you chase it in shallow, desperate inhales against each other’s skin.
“jihyo—”
“don’t talk,” she breathes. her voice wrecked. “don’t ask. just—”
you kiss her again.
harder this time.
your hand slides between her shoulders, down the arch of her back, over the curve of her ass, back up to her hips before sliding them around her waist and up to cut her breasts.
she pushes you against the wall, mouth on your neck, biting, sucking, breathing hard.
you grip her hip and roll your body up into hers.
your thigh slips between hers.
her breath hitches.
she grinds down.
once.
twice.
she gasps, forehead falling to your shoulder.
“fuck,” she whispers.
“yeah,” you breath. “i am.”
her mouth finds yours again.
there’s no hesitation now.
just hunger.
slippery skin.
tangled limbs.
teeth scraping.
hands everywhere.
you taste her sigh.
feel her nails in your back.
and somewhere between the next gasp and the next roll of her hips—you stop pretending this was ever just about heat.
a few moments pass then jihyo’s thigh presses between yours, slick and solid, grinding slow as her hand fists in your hair, forcing your mouth to hers again.
you moan into it.
it’s not pretty. not restrained. not the kind of sound you’ve ever let her hear.
but she swallows it like she needs it.
your hands slip over her back, over every line of her, wet skin dragging under your palms. you pull her tighter, grind forward, feel her shudder against you.
“god,” she breathes, lips dragging along your jaw, your cheekbone, your throat. “you don’t even know what you do to me.”
“show me,” you gasp.
and she does.
her hands roam—everywhere, insistent, frantic—gripping the curve of your waist, dragging along your ribs, cupping your breasts like she’s claiming them, not asking.
she groans when you arch into her touch.
you kiss her again, messier now—tongues slick, mouths parted, teeth grazing, no rhythm, just need.
water crashes against the tile behind you, splashing your legs, cooling nothing.
you’re both burning.
her thigh shifts between yours, grinding up as your bodies lock together. you roll your hips hard—once, then again—and she nearly chokes on a moan.
“again,” she mutters. “do it again.”
you obey.
she grabs your ass in both hands, anchoring you against her, and your rhythm turns sharp, shameless.
there’s no performance here. no soft giggles.
no teasing smiles.
just breathless curses.
needy friction.
quiet, desperate sounds swallowed by the rush of water.
your bodies slip and slide in a rhythm only you two understand—imperfect and urgent and honest.
your hand finds the nape of her neck, holds her there, foreheads pressing together between frantic kisses, gasps breaking in tandem.
she whispers your name like a curse. like a prayer.
and when she pushes you back against the tile again, hands flat to the wall beside your head, staring down at you like she’s trying to memorise the way your mouth looks when it parts like that—she doesn’t say anything else. she doesn’t need to.
because you’re both already gone.
and there’s no turning back now.
and you both know it.
which is why you continue.
you’re still trembling—bare, breathless—when jihyo’s hand slides up your thigh. slow. sure. claiming.
your skin twitches under her palm. your head drops back against the tile.
you expect her to kiss you again.
she doesn’t.
instead, her mouth brushes your ear, breath hot despite the cold water.
“stay still.”
your eyes open, wide—surprised, wrecked, ready. you nod.
she slides down.
barely a breath between you.
her thigh presses between yours—but this time, her hand moves with it.
she finds your chest first—palms cupping your breasts, thumbs dragging over your nipples, slick and hard under her touch.
you gasp.
her lips find your throat.
her teeth follow.
“fuck,” you breathe, fingers gripping her shoulders, her hair, anything to keep you grounded.
she doesn’t stop.
her hands are everywhere now—your breasts, your ribs, the dip of your waist, the curve of your hips.
until finally—finally—she slips her hand between your thighs. fingers. hot. firm. confident.
she touches you like she’s been thinking about it for weeks. like she already knows what makes you twitch.
and when she finds it?
you gasp so sharp your legs nearly give out.
she holds you up with her free arm, locking her wrist behind your back while her fingers start to move—slow at first.
then deeper. slippery. grinding.
her forehead presses to yours.
“i want to feel you come again,” she whispers.
you nod, barely able to speak.
“then—fuck—don’t stop.”
her fingers curl.
your mouth falls open. and she watches you. the whole time.
wide eyes focused on your face, on your lips, on the way your body clenches around her hand like you never want her to stop.
her thumb brushes once. twice. you jolt.
you gasp her name.
she kisses you then—deep and hard, swallowing the sound you make as her fingers work you open, closer, harder.
you fall apart like that.
in her hands. held up by her arms, by her mouth, by the way she whispers “that’s it, baby, give it to me” like it’s hers.
because it is. you are.
and you want her to know it.
when you shudder hard—moaning into her mouth, thighs shaking, chest heaving—she doesn’t stop.
she draws it out. longer.
until your body jerks, twitching, oversensitive, completely wrecked.
and only then—only then—does she pull back, slowly, fingers gliding out of you, coated in proof.
you’re panting. clinging to her. eyes glazed. mouth open.
and jihyo just watches you, hand still between your legs, voice quiet, proud. “mine.”
she’s still holding you—pinned between the tile and her chest, fingers slick, breath catching in her throat.
but the second your legs steady,
you flipit. your hands grip her waist. your mouth finds hers—rough, wet, deep.
and this time, you press forward.
shestumbles. just slightly. just enough.
you back her into the wall, reverse the weight of what she gave you, give it back with your mouth on her neck, your hand sliding up her thigh.
jihyo gasps.
it’s not controlled. not planned. it’s pure reflex.
you drag your mouth lower, tongue flattening against her breasts, her nipples as your hand trails over her hip, down between her thighs—
and she opens for you.
immediately.
automatically.
your fingers slide through wetness that has nothing to do with the water.
and she can feel you grin against her skin.
“already?” you murmur.
she exhales—shaky. “shut up.”
you hum. “no.”
and then—
you sink to your knees.
hands dragging down her thighs, over her calves, nails scraping just enough to make her shiver.
your mouth moves first—tongue teasing, circling, barely touching.
you hear her head hit the tile, hear her breath hitch.
her fingers grip your shoulders then your hair.
tight.
you grin against her—she feels it.
and you give her everything.
your mouth presses in. tongue sliding where she needs it. slow. deep. then faster. hungrier. hands spreading her thighs wider until she’s completely open to you.
jihyo moans—head falling forward, one hand braced on the wall, the other tangled in your hair.
you slide one finger in. then two.
then curl them just right, dragging your tongue hard and flat and deep until she gasps your name and pulls your face harder into her.
she’s shaking now. hips moving. thighs trembling.
no rhythm. just need.
you don’t slow down. you don’t let her.
she tries to warn you—tries to speak—
“wait—i’m—fuck, i’m gonna—”
but you don’t stop.
your tongue continues, your fingers do too, and she breaks with a loud, guttural cry that echoes off the tiles and makes your knees shake again from the sound alone.
she comes hard.
full-body. legs locking. hands grasping. hips rolling up into your mouth like she never wants you to stop.
you ride it out with her.
stay with her through every twitch, every breathless whimper, until her grip loosens.
then you rise slowly. deliberately.
kissing every inch of skin you come across, tongue lapping her navel, sucking her nipples before licking up her throat and kissing her. deep. letting her taste what she gave you.
and when you part and she opens her eyes—barely, still dazed, still catching her breath—you just whisper, “mine too.”
and for a moment, you just breathe together. no rush. no teasing.
just this—water falling, bodies pressed, mouths brushing.
she kisses your shoulder. your collarbone. your neck.
slow. unhurried. like she’s still tasting the pieces of you she hasn’t memorised yet.
your eyes flutter shut.
and her voice—barely audible now. “if we don’t get out soon, i’ll need you again.”
you smile, eyes still closed.
“then don’t stop me.”
her lips curve against your skin.
but she doesn’t answer.
and her hands don’t move.
but yours do.
⸻
it’s been a few weeks since bangkok.
since that night where the tension finally broke—cold water, hot skin, and the sound of your name from jihyo’s mouth like it was the only thing keeping her steady.
since the morning after, where you woke up still tangled together, jihyo’s hand resting lightly on your waist, your forehead tucked against her shoulder.
since the quiet shift that settled between you—no more pretending, but not making it a spectacle either.
jihyo tried to hide it. or at least, she thinks she does.
her touches are gentle, almost absentminded—like brushing lint off your shoulder during practice, or resting her hand on your lower back when you’re moving through a crowd.
she leans into you when you’re sitting on the couch, her shoulder against yours, pretending it’s just because there’s not enough space.
sometimes her hand finds yours under the table, just for a second, and she pulls away like no one noticed.
she thinks she’s being subtle.
she’s not.
everyone notices.
the group doesn’t say much—just shares glances when she lingers a little too long or when you share a look that’s softer than it should be.
they’re letting you both figure it out, but it’s obvious they’re a little amused by how oblivious jihyo is to her own actions.
tonight, you’re backstage after an award show.
the host had been a little too flirty—leaning in, laughing too hard, resting her hand on your arm like it was part of the script when you guys collected your award.
you didn’t think much of it, but you noticed how jihyo’s eyes narrowed slightly, her fingers tensing around her water bottle.
now you’re in the dressing room, winding down.
nayeon is sprawled on the couch, momo’s digging through her bag for snacks, and sana is scrolling on her phone.
jihyo is at the vanity, fixing her hair, trying to look uninterested.
“that host was practically throwing herself at you,” nayeon teases, grinning.
momo nods. “right? like, i thought she was gonna sit in your lap for a second.”
jihyo doesn’t look up, but you see her shoulders tense a bit.
you just shrug, nonchalance evident in your voice as you play it off. “she was just being friendly.”
sana scoffs. “friendly? she was one laugh away from proposing. and that’s coming from me!”
chaeyoung snickers. “seriously, she was staring like you were a work of art.”
jihyo stays quiet, but you notice how she’s wiping the same spot on her cheek longer than necessary.
you glance at her in the mirror, giving a quick, soft smile.
she catches it, lips twitching just barely, but then goes back to pretending she’s not listening.
as the others start filtering out to find food, you stay behind.
jihyo is still at the vanity, now just staring at her reflection, clearly lost in thought.
you come up behind her, resting your hands gently on her shoulders.
she leans back slightly, like she’s been waiting for you to do that.
“you good?” you murmur.
jihyo nods, but it’s too quick, too practiced.
“yeah. just… tired,” she says.
you move your hands down to her upper arms, thumbs brushing lightly.
“you sure?”
jihyo finally turns to face you, her eyes a little softer now.
“she was really into you,” jihyo mumbles, almost like she didn’t mean to say it out loud.
you bite back a smile, leaning down to kiss her forehead. “well it’s a shame i don’t care.”
jihyo hesitates, then nods, but you can see the worry still there.
you take a breath, feeling your chest tighten just a bit.
“can i… can i ask you something?”
jihyo meets your gaze, her hand finding yours almost automatically. “of course,” she says.
you hesitate, trying to gather your thoughts.
“a few weeks ago… that interview we did,” you start, voice quieter than usual. jihyo’s eyes flicker with recognition. “when they asked about… me, about all the attention i get.”
her lips part slightly, like she knows where you’re going.
“you said… i deserved it. that i work hard,” you swallow, looking down for a second. “did you really mean it?”
jihyo squeezes your hand, pulling you a little closer as she stands up.
“yeah,” she whispers. “i meant it.”
you meet her eyes, your own feeling a bit too open, too vulnerable—but jihyo absolutely adores it. “even the part where you said… you couldn’t blame anyone for falling for me?”
jihyo’s lips quirk into a small, almost shy smile.
“especially that part,” she says, like it’s the simplest truth.
you let out a shaky laugh, the relief washing through you. “so… you fell for me?”
jihyo’s eyes soften even more, and she steps closer, her other hand coming up to cup your face. “yeah,” she murmurs. “harder than i planned to.”
you smile, brushing your lips against hers—soft, grateful, lingering.
jihyo kisses you back, letting it last, and when you pull away, her thumb strokes your cheek.
“you really didn’t know?” she asks, almost amused.
you shake your head, feeling a bit silly. “just needed to hear you say it,” you admit.
jihyo kisses you again, softer this time. “i’ll say it as much as you want,” she whispers.
before you can respond, nayeon’s voice rings out from the hallway.
“are you two done being cute? we’re starving!”
jihyo just sighs, resting her head against your shoulder.
you laugh, brushing your fingers through her hair. “guess we’re not as subtle as you think,” you murmur.
jihyo pulls back, giving you a half-hearted glare.
“i thought i was being low-key,” she mumbles.
you grin, kissing the corner of her mouth. “babe, you’re about as low-key as a firework.”
jihyo scoffs, but there’s a blush creeping up her face.
and as you walk out to join the others, jihyo’s hand slips into yours again, and this time, she doesn’t let go.
tzuyu just shakes her head when she sees your linked fingers. “you two really thought you were being subtle, huh?”
jihyo just shrugs, not bothering to answer.
and when you sit next to her in the van, she pulls you closer, resting your head on her shoulder.
nayeon smirks, but jihyo just leans down, pressing a quick kiss to your hair like it’s the most natural thing in the world.
this time—
neither of you care who sees.
because for once, it feels right.
it feels like something you never want to hide again.
hellooo!!!! i had a request if you perchance have the time eventually :)
could we get a jihyo x reader where reader like REGULARLY overworks herself and doesn’t get enough sleep ??? like full on unnecessarily working to make things easier on other people and lowkey neglecting herself???
thank you!!! hope the amount of reqs isn’t stressing you out and that you’re taking care of yourself 🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻
- 🦦
۶۟ৎ MISSED CALLS
٠࣪⭑ pairing . park jihyo x fem! reader
synopsis . call after call, voicemail after voicemail. jihyo has had enough.
٠࣪⭑ content . angst and fluff. accidental ignorance. reader is sort of neglectful. high achiever! reader. burn out. arguing. self worth. reader is a college student.
notes . burnt tf out
the frustration jihyo feels is so strong, she thinks she just mind go insane.
her hands grip the steering wheel of her car, her eyes shifting between the road and her phone, and then the road again, and then back to her phone. it's been twelve, yes she counted, hours since you'd last given her the slightest update - claiming to hop in the shower to distract yourself from work. but she knew that was a lie. knowing you, you'd sent her that as a weak attempt at quelling her worry.
when the screen doesn't light again, a curse leaves her lips. this was the fourth time in a week you'd drowned yourself in work that didn't need to be done for weeks, even.
and jihyo was so, so tired of it.
she was practically flying through the streets of Seoul, only reaching your house in mere minutes. her hand gripped her phone, her copy of your house key in the other. the door to her car was shoved open and slammed, and she rounded toward your apartment - impatiently taking the elevator up, reaching your door, unlocking it and-
sure enough, the lights were all dimmed in your apartment. something you did to 'focus'.
faintly, she could hear typing down the hallway, and huffed, shutting the door and kicking off her shoes, walking further inside until she rounded in your bedroom. there, for a moment, the anger within her stopped. she saw you, wrapped loosely in a blanket, a tired look on your face. bags under your eyes. your hands feverishly typing away on your laptop. your notebooks strewn about you.
jihyo sighed.
this would be hard.
“baby.” she spoke, watching as you typed. you didn’t seem to hear her, and so she sighed, speaking more sharply. “baby— damnit, y/n!”
that, you heard.
your head snapped up, face in slight shock and a bit of fear. “jihyo? what are you doing?”
she huffed, placing her hands on her hips. “I could ask you the same thing. I thought I told you to stop working so much, what are you doing now?”
you sulked slightly. “I-I’m just...I had a bit more work to get done, I didn't realize-"
jihyo scoffed, walking over and shifting some of the paper's aside despite the whine that left your throat. only - she froze when she caught one in her hand, rearing up in anger. "who the hell is minji? why are you doing her work, huh?" the faintest hint of jealousy flipped through her. why would you be doing another girl's work?
you seemed to shy away from her gaze, awkwardly straightening the laptop in front of you. "s-she's just a friend from school, I promise. she's falling a bit behind so I thought i'd-"
"thought you'd what? pile more work onto yourself?" jihyo squinted at you, incredulously. "that's the stupidest thing i've ever heard!"
you wince back, and for a brief moment she wants to take the insult back, but she doesn't. her gaze hardens. "you're practically killing yourself, don't you see that? you're- this isn't okay."
bitterness swells inside of you. "you did the same."
jihyo stops, her heart stuttering in her chest. her hands bunh the papers slightly. "you think I wanted to?" she cocks her head. "huh? you think I wanted to spend endless hours in the studio-”
“well you did-“ you sigh. “ji, I have to do this. it helps me get better—”
“exhausting yourself won’t make you better!”
silence stretches after her harsh yell. she pinches her brows, looking away and murmuring something angrily in korean. you swallow thickly, toying with the edges of your laptop as she shakes her head and - her shoulders shake slightly.
immediate guilt wells up inside you.
“jihyo..”
“dont.” she whispers, looking off. her hand is slightly raised at you, tears prickling her beautiful eyes. “…I feel like I don’t even know you anymore, y/n. you’re always..so cooped up with your stupid work, everytime I try to help you- you just end up pushing me away.”
your heart clenches.
you did do that, huh?
damnit.
“im sorry,” you whisper. “im sorry I-I don’t know why I do this — I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”
jihyo softens.
she takes a step to the bed and sits, your hand jumping to grasp hers - which makes her soften a bit more. “…there’s nothing wrong with you, honey, everyone’s work ethic is different, yours just..” she sighs. “you’re killing yourself. I can see it in your eyes. you’re exhausted..you think I don’t recognize that?”
you look away, and she sucks in a breath.
“please don’t do that.” her voice is shaky. “please don’t look away from me.”
your eyes are compelled back to hers, and her tears are now falling slowly. jihyo sniffs, using her free hand to flick them away as you whisper. “…I’m sorry.”
she sighs. “…how am I supposed to believe that?”
“…” you look down, and then back up at her. “you- can’t. but I..I mean it. please, I know I do. I-I just, I get in this headspace where to be the best I have to put forth the most effort as possible and-”
“and how did that turn out for me, huh?” she tilts her head, sighing. “baby you don’t need to be the best in everyone else’s eyes. you’re the best in mine, and you ought to be the best in yours by now.”
your shoulders slouch, and jihyo reaches, taking your face in her hands.
“listen to me,” she whispers. “no more of this. okay? no more. it’s hurting us, it’s hurting you. I can’t sit back and watch you fall apart, my love.”
tears spring to your eyes, and she sighs, pulling up in and allowing your body to slack against hers. your laptop slips, hitting the ground - but you don’t bother going for it. no, instead you melt into her arms for the first time in weeks. your head nuzzles under her neck as you cry, and jihyo merely rubs at your back in comfort.
“shh, it’s alright..”
“im here..”
“you’re so talented, baby, it’s okay to be tired.”
hi! I just read ur mohyo fic and I love it sososos much!! If youre up for it could i request a vamp!jihyo and human momo smut fic? No preference on dynamic so you can pick I jsut think the concept would be really fun! :>
Totally cool if not! Very glad to see another mohyo fan 🫶
❝ VICIOUS ❞
𑣲 pairing. hirai momo x park jihyo
𑣲 content. dom vampire!jihyo, sub human!momo, blood drinking (marking), rough sex, oral sex, overstimulation, dirty talk, light sadism, lmk if i missed anything
𑣲 word count. 2,159
summary. jihyo finally broke her fast, and momo was the only five-course meal on the menu
from jenn. btw i’m sitting in the salon chair getting a pedicure while writing jihyo devouring momo?? i’m new to the vampire genre soooo hope i did well
Jihyo had spent the last hour nursing a glass of red wine she had no intention of finishing, her eyes fixed on the entrance. She had spent sixty years living off hospital grade blood bags—cold, metallic, and utterly soul-dead.
Then Momo walked in.
Momo wasn’t just pretty; she was radiant. She wore a silk slip dress that clung to her curves like a second skin, her dark hair tossed over one shoulder.
“Jihyo?” Momo’s voice was a soft, melodic chime. She sat down, and the scent of her hit Jihyo like a physical blow.
“You’re even more beautiful than your profile,” Jihyo said, her voice dropping an octave. She was trying to be charming, but her predatory instincts were screaming.
Momo giggled, her hand accidentally brushing Jihyo’s forearm. “And you’re... wow. You’re like a statue. Are you always this cold, or am I just that nervous?”
“I’ve been told I have a low body temperature,” Jihyo lied smoothly, though her skin burned where Momo touched her.
The flirting was effortless. Momo was laughing at Jihyo’s dry wit and leaning into her space until their knees were locked under the table.
By the time they finished their second round of drinks, the air between them was electric.
“I don’t usually do this on a first date,” Momo whispered, her eyes dark with a very human hunger as she looked at Jihyo’s mouth. “But I don’t want to go home alone tonight.”
“Neither do I,” Jihyo rasped.
The hotel suite was a blur of gold light and hushed expensive carpets. The moment the door clicked shut, Momo was all over her. She was a tactile hurricane, her hands sliding under Jihyo’s top, her lips pressing feverish, wet kisses along Jihyo’s jawline.
“God, you’re so cold,” Momo moaned against her skin, her hands wandering lower. “It feels so good. I’m burning up.”
Jihyo’s conscience finally slammed the brakes. The hunger in her throat was becoming unbearable; the scent of Momo’s veins was a siren song she couldn’t ignore if this went any further.
She grabbed Momo’s wrists, pinning them gently but firmly away from her body.
“Wait,” Jihyo panted, her eyes flickering. “Momo, stop. I have to... I have to tell you something. I can’t just take you like this.”
Momo blinked, her lips swollen and her hair a mess. “What? If you have a girlfriend or something, I don’t care, I—”
“It’s not that.” Jihyo stepped back, her chest heaving. She looked at Momo, her heart—or what was left of it—aching. “I’m not what you think I am. This... this body, this face... it’s a mask. I’m a monster, Momo. I live on blood. I’ve lived for centuries. If I touch you the way I want to, I might not be able to stop.”
Momo stared at her for a long beat. Then, she let out a sharp, incredulous laugh. “A vampire? Seriously? Jihyo, you’ve had too much wine.”
“I’m serious,” Jihyo hissed, her frustration mounting. “I haven’t fed from a human in sixty years. I am starving, and you are... you’re everything I shouldn’t have.”
Momo rolled her eyes, stepping back into Jihyo’s space, her hands reaching out to grab Jihyo’s lapels. “Hell nah. You’re just trying to get out of this because you’re scared of how much I like you. If you’re a monster, then prove it. Show me your fangs. Otherwise, shut up and kiss me.”
Jihyo’s control snapped. The insult to her nature, combined with the sheer, arrogant heat of Momo’s body, was the final straw.
“Fine,” Jihyo growled, her voice turning into something primal.
She grabbed Momo’s waist and slammed her back against the suite’s heavy oak door. Her face transformed—her pupils flooding her eyes until they were red, her gums aching as her fangs finally, violently dropped.
She tilted Momo’s head back with a rough hand, exposing the pale, throbbing line of her throat.
Momo’s breath hitched, her eyes widening as she felt the sharp, cold points of Jihyo’s teeth graze the skin over her pulse.
She didn’t scream. She didn’t run. A low, needy whine escaped her as she felt the true, terrifying power in Jihyo’s grip.
“Is this proof enough for you?” Jihyo rasped against her skin.
“Yes,” Momo gasped, her legs instinctively hooking around Jihyo’s waist, her hands clawing at Jihyo’s back. “Now... bite me.”
“You asked for this,” Jihyo whispered, her voice vibrating against Momo’s skin.
She didn’t bite—not yet. She let her fangs graze the surface, a sharp, stinging tease that made Momo’s toes curl.
Momo let out a broken sound, her hands fumbling with the buttons of Jihyo’s shirt. “Stop... stop talking and just do it,” she panted, her bravado finally melting into pure, unadulterated need. “Please, Jihyo.”
Jihyo lunged.
The bite was quick and precise, a sharp puncture that made Momo gasp—not in pain, but in a shock of pure, white-hot pleasure.
Jihyo was lost. The first taste of fresh, warm blood after sixty years of starvation was like a dam breaking. She drank greedily, her throat working as she swallowed, her mind going dark.
Jihyo pulled back just enough to look at her, her lips stained a deep, terrifying crimson. Her eyes were pure black, reflecting nothing but Momo’s flushed, desperate face. She looked like a god, and Momo looked like her willing sacrifice.
“I told you I wouldn’t be able to stop,” Jihyo rasped, her thumb wiping a stray drop of blood.
Momo reached up, her fingers trembling as she traced Jihyo’s sharp fangs. “Then dont stop. Take all of it. I’m yours.”
Jihyo didn’t need to be told twice. She scooped Momo up, the girl feeling weightless in her supernatural grip, and carried her toward the massive hotel bed.
Jihyo dropped Momo onto the center of the mattress. Momo’s chest heaving, the silk of her dress hiked up to her hips. Her skin was flushed a deep, feverish pink, the two small puncture wounds on her neck weeping a tiny, glittering trail of red.
She felt lightheaded, her thoughts swirling in the euphoric haze, but her body had never felt more awake.
Jihyo crawled over her. She pinned Momo’s wrists above her head with one hand, her grip like iron bands. She buried her face in the sensitive crook of Momo’s shoulder, her breath coming in hot, ragged hitches.
“You’re shaking,” Jihyo growled, the sound vibrating deep in her chest.
“I'm... I’m hungry too,” Momo gasped, her hips bucking up instinctively, seeking the friction of Jihyo’s weight.
Jihyo let out a low, dark chuckle. Her cold hands roaming over Momo’s thighs. She trailed wet, stinging nips along the inside of Momo’s collarbone, her tongue darting out to taste the salt and heat of her skin.
Momo was whining every time Jihyo’s teeth grazed a new patch of skin. She wanted the bite again. She wanted the sting.
“Jihyo, please,” Momo begged, her back arching off the bed. Her fingers clawed at the sheets, bunching the expensive fabric into knots. “I can’t... it’s too much. Give me more.”
Jihyo didn’t speak. She let her actions do the talking. She moved lower, her fingers teasing at the edge of Momo’s underwear, her eyes never leaving Momo’s face.
She watched the way Momo’s eyes rolled back, the way her lips parted in a silent scream. She wanted to memorize the way Momo’s body reacted to her—not just the blood, but the touch.
Momo’s begging was the sweetest symphony Jihyo had ever heard. Her thighs trembled as Jihyo’s cold fingers hooked into the silk of her panties, peeling them away like unwrapping a gift she’d waited centuries to claim.
Jihyo pressed her mouth to Momo’s inner thigh, leaving a trail of cold, wet kisses along the tender skin. “Spread wider for me,” Jihyo commanded, her voice guttural and dark.
Momo obeyed without hesitation. She hooked her arms under her knees and pulled them back, fully exposing herself to Jihyo’s hungry gaze. She felt completely bare—physically, emotionally. The cool air of the room caressed her most intimate parts, but she didn’t feel cold.
Jihyo felt her control snap. The sight of Momo open and willing, her sex glistening with need, was more than she could handle. She’d waited sixty years for this moment, and suddenly she felt like a starving animal.
Jihyo descended on Momo. She didn’t lick or tease—she devoured. She spread Momo’s folds with her thumbs, exposing her clit, and latched onto it like a starving woman at a feast.
Momo cried out, her back arching so hard it hurt. But Jihyo didn’t care. She sucked and nibbled on Momo’s sensitive bud like it was the most delicious fruit she’d ever tasted.
“Jihyo—!” Momo screamed, her fingers fisting in Jihyo's long dark hair. “I’m gonna— oh fuck, I’m gonna come just from your—”
Momo’s screams echoed off the walls as she came harder than she ever had in her life. Her hips jerked uncontrollably, grinding her pussy against Jihyo’s merciless mouth. Tears streamed down her face, her vision blurring as white-hot pleasure overwhelmed her senses.
Jihyo didn’t stop. She kept lapping at Momo’s trembling entrance, drinking her release like fine wine. When Momo tried to pull away, overwhelmed, Jihyo’s hands pressed her thighs down harder.
“No—” Momo whimpered, her voice breaking. “Please, I can’t— another one, I can’t—”
“You can,” Jihyo’s voice was a low thrum against Momo’s overheated skin. “And you will.”
She shifted, sliding two cold fingers into Momo’s dripping wetness without warning. They curled upward, pressing against a spot that made Momo sob aloud. Her thumb found Momo’s clit again, rubbing tight, perfect circles.
“Jihyo, I’m not—”
“You’re not what?” Jihyo murmured, her fingers pumping steadily, her thumb relentless. “You’re not ready for another? But your body says otherwise.” She added a third finger, stretching Momo deliciously. “Look at how wet you are. Look at how you’re clenching around me.”
Momo couldn’t look. Her thighs began quivering, her walls fluttering around Jihyo’s fingers as another orgasm built rapidly inside her. Her eyes rolled back, her lips parting in soundless screams.
“Too much,” she choked out, her body straining toward release while also trying to escape it. “Please, Jihyo, I’m begging you.”
Jihyo’s cold fingers curled inside her, hitting that spot again. “Begging for what? More?” Her thumb pressed down hard on Momo’s clit, grinding it mercilessly. “Or begging me to stop?”
Momo’s breath came out in broken, desperate gasps. She didn’t know anymore. The pleasure was too intense, too overwhelming—her body was a live wire sparking out of control.
“Both—” she cried. “I don’t know! Keep going, I beg you, stop, I can’t—”
The confession only made Jihyo smile.
“Poor baby,” Jihyo cooed mockingly, her fingers moving faster, deeper. “You want me to stop giving you what you obviously want?” She leaned down, her cold breath ghosting over Momo’s red, swollen clit.
“Or do you want me to keep going until you break? Until you come so many times you pass out?” Jihyo’s lips brushed against Momo’s clit, her fingers curling inside her. “Answer me truthfully, Momo. What do you want?”
Momo’s body shuddered uncontrollably. She was past thinking rationally. Her hands flew to Jihyo’s hair, gripping it tightly as she pulled her face harder against her pussy. “I want... I want you to keep going,” she confessed hoarsely. “I want you to—”
“To what?” Jihyo prompted darkly, sucking Momo’s clit into her mouth. “Make you come until you can’t speak? Until you’re a limp, satisfied mess? Until you’re so sensitive you can’t stand anything touching your pussy?”
“Say it, Momo,” Jihyo ordered, her fingers pumping furiously. “Tell me exactly what you want me to do to your needy little cunt.”
Momo’s head thrashed from side to side, her moans getting higher and more desperate. She’d never been talked to like this before—never been so completely dominated. It made her even wetter, if that was possible.
“I want—” she sobbed, her thighs shaking violently. “I want you to ruin me. I want you to make me come so hard I—”
“So hard you what?” Jihyo’s cold tongue lashed against Momo’s clit as she added a fourth finger, stretching Momo's entrance wide. “So hard you forget your own name? So hard you spray all over my face” She bit down gently on Momo’s inner thigh. “So hard you can’t walk tomorrow?”
Momo’s hips thrust up violently at the biting sensation, her pussy gripping Jihyo’s fingers so hard she thought she’d break them. “All of that!” she screamed. “Just fucking do it! Make me come so hard I can’t even see!”
Jihyo’s dark laugh vibrated against Momo’s sensitive flesh. “That’s my girl.”
Momo’s world exploded. Her internal muscles clamped around Jihyo’s hand in a series of violent, rhythmic pulses.
“You’re a mess,” Jihyo whispered against her temple, her voice back to that smooth, velvet rasp. She pulled the heavy duvet over both of them, cocooning Momo.
“Sleep now,” Jihyo murmured into the dark, “I’ll clean you up.”
— You weren’t looking for anything when you moved into the small apartment on the third floor — not love, not friendship, not even comfort. Just quiet. A place to breathe again. But quiet doesn’t last long next door to her. —
genre — gxg, angst, non-idol x non-idol, 18+, fluff, smut, strangers to enemies to lovers, doomed yuri(?)
I can only be me when i'm by your side - i'm not a monster.
As time passes recovering, you've seemed to found your place in Jihyo's arms.
cw: fluff, smut, angst, petnames, virgin!reader, sweet girl!jihyo, popular but not so popular!jihyo, basketball player!jihyo, both are 18 but they are students, mentions of death, drunk confessions, they fall in love pretty fast, lwk rushed, lmk if there is more ^_^, ~ 4k words
if you're thinking "hm! i read this fic somewhere... yes! its my heeseung fic from my bg blog @adorwoo ! which i wanted to use for jihyo !^_^ hope you enjoy anyway.
men dni.
It's not your fault.
It's not your fault.
It's not your fault.
It's not your...
Is it really?
The rain beats down on your black umbrella, the lines from Dahyun's letter playing over and over in your head. It feels like you're trapped in a vicious cycle, not being able to think of anything else.
But why?
Why didn't she tell you?
Were all those conversations about the mutual trust between you two a lie? Was it just talk to keep you from worrying?
If someone had told you a week ago that you had to be at her funeral because she had killed herself, you would have laughed at that person. Dahyun was always the happiest person you've ever met.
Even if you had been told that a day ago, you wouldn't have believed it. Because in theory, it's the stupidest thing you've ever heard.
In his letter, she wrote about how much she loved you, how she enjoyed every minute and every moment with you, how it's not your fault that she's not here anymore.
She's probably right, not just probably. She's right, and you know it. But you can't stop blaming yourself. Someone has to take the blame. Someone is responsible.
You could have helped her.
You should have helped her.
Tears run down your cheeks as you stare at her grave. Her family, her friends, they are all gone. You stand here alone, not daring to leave.
'Kim Dahyun
Born on may 28, 1998.
A friend, daughter and lover.
She will continue to live in our souls.'
It feels like your eyes are glued to the writing, you can't look away. You try to regulate your breathing, taking a deep breath.
A sigh leaves your mouth as you place the white rose next to the gravestone.
You take one last look at her grave before turning and slowly walking away.
-
"I'm Y/n, nice to meet you all."
You look at the students in front of you, all of them giving you strange looks. Of course, you are a new student, but you feel uncomfortable under their gaze. The teacher smiles at you and tells you where to sit, next to a girl called Mina.
It's as if everyone has forgotten about you again as the teacher starts teaching. You sit down next to Mina and she smiles at you.
"Nice to meet you," she whispers. You smile at her.
You can't talk to her for long because she starts taking notes for the lesson. You look around at the faces of the others. It actually looks like a normal class, but your eyes land on a girl.
She looks shorter than you, her hair is brown as well as her eyes. She's wearing a white t-shirt.
"Have you laid your eye on someone?" asks Mina, laughing a little.
"No!" you answer, a little too loudly, and you put your head on the table as a few people look at you. "I was just looking at her," you whisper.
"Yeah yeah... that's what they all say" she says.
You slowly lose yourself in your thoughts as memories of Dahyun come flooding back.
Should you even look at other girls? Is it bad?
Would Dahyun hate you for trying to find love again?
It's been more than two months since she died, but you can't stop thinking about her.
Maybe it's normal, your behavior. Your overthinking of everything, maybe you're not the only person who feels this way? Maybe there is someone else who is just as lost in their thoughts as you are.
Maybe you are simply not alone.
However, your thoughts are interrupted by the bell and Mina.
"I can show you a few things here at school if you want," she suggests, and you gratefully accept her help.
You spend the whole lunch break running after her while she shows you around.
"Why did you change schools anyway? Your old one is a pretty well-known one, and much better than here," she asks, before taking a bite of her sandwich.
The question makes you wonder, and you think about whether you should just lie to her and say that you moved, or that you were somehow bullied at your school - but somehow it feels wrong. Because you neither moved nor were you bullied. No, everything was actually fine.
Actually,
Somehow everything changed after her death.
Your classmates started looking at you funny, and you still don't know whether they are looks of pity or looks of condemnation because they blame you.
"I don't know" is your answer, and somehow it's true. Sometimes you really have no idea why you changed schools, but Mina doesn't need to know the whole truth.
She just nods in response as she continues to eat.
"The girl you were looking at in English, her name is Jihyo by the way" she says.
What?
"Why are you telling me this?" you ask.
"Because you were staring at her a lot - you looked really interested in her" she replies with a little grin.
"How many times do I have to tell you, I wasn't staring at her..." you laugh a little, but can't hide your despair. Why does she think you're interested in her?
-
"Watch out!" someone shouts, but before you can react, a basketball hits you.
You fall to the floor, your head hurts and you feel slightly dizzy as you slowly open your eyes.
The girl from your English class is kneeling on the floor in front of you, looking at you, trying to see if you're okay.
It's like a cliché high school movie.
"Are you okay?" she asks, a couple of other girls come over, but she just tells them to get something to cool off and shoos them away.
The things that can happen when you want to visit the gym...
You nod slowly, after a few blinks your vision is no longer blurry.
Another girl comes back and hands Jihyo a cold pack.
"Here, take this," she says and puts it in your hand, her hand on your shoulder to support you.
You hold it to your head, biting the inside of your cheek slightly from the cold.
Before she can say anything else, she is called by his coach, at the same moment Mina comes to you.
"I was looking for you," she says and helps you up.
You watch Jihyo jogging across the field before you leave the gym.
-
New week, new luck?
Every day you tried desperately to talk to Jihyo somehow, but suddenly she was always gone after class and you were never put in a group together.
But it looks like luck is on your side for once.
"Here's the list of groups, you have to give a presentation in pairs on a play of your choice," your English teacher announces.
You look at the picture projected on the wall.
Chaeyoung and Mina,
Sana and Miyeon,
Jihyo and Y/n,
Jeongyeon and...
Wait, what?
You read the list again and once more you see your name and Jihyo's name next to each other.
"Jihyo and Y/n," you say quietly.
"Are you happy?" Mina asks teasingly with a grin on her lips.
"Are you happy that you have to work with Chaeyoung?" you ask back - Mina doesn't answer.
Before your teacher can give you any more homework for the break, the school bell rings and everyone rushes out of the classroom.
You walk (or rather, run) to Jihyo who is packing her things away.
"Hey, I was wondering when we should meet," you say, and she looks up at you and smiles. You feel your cheeks turning red.
She puts on his backpack and stands up.
"How about Friday afternoon? My place?" she suggests and you nod.
She takes a pen from her pocket, "Give me your hand," she says, you are confused but do it anyway.
She opens the pen with her mouth, the cap between her teeth as she gently writes on your hand.
Her phone number.
It feels like she's giving you an autograph.
"Text me and I'll send you my address," she says, and before you can answer, she walks out of the room.
You look down at your hand and see a little smiley face next to her number.
You can't help but giggle as you look at it.
-
You stare at your phone - up to her front door and back down to your phone.
You are 10 minutes early and don't dare to ring the doorbell.
"You know you can just ring the bell?" someone asks you, you look up and see Jihyo smiling at you.
"I'm early, that's why-"
"Not a problem," she interrupts you.
She lets you in and closes the door behind her.
Her house is beautiful, modern and yet somehow old-fashioned.
"My parents aren't here, so I thought we could study in the living room," she says, and you nod, leaning your backpack against the table.
"Water?" she asks and you take it gratefully.
You drink a little before she sits down across from you.
You both leaf through the books, take notes, talk briefly about certain passages, but otherwise no one says anything.
Jihyo decides to break the awkward atmosphere.
"I wanted to apologize again, for the basketball," she says, and you laugh a little.
"You don't have to apologize, things like that can happen," you reply.
"Have you ever had a girlfriend?" she asks, and instead of answering, you are completely silent, thinking.
Memories of Dahyun come back while Jihyo looks at you and waits for your answer.
"Yes, I did, but she died a few months ago," you answer.
She nods slightly, "Can I ask how he died?" she asks in a quiet, polite tone, as if she really wants to make sure that she's asking something that doesn't hurt you in any way.
"Suicide," you say, short and meager, without many details (whether you know many details at all is another question).
She looks at you with a supportive look, one that makes you feel like she's really listening and that she really understands you.
Maybe she understands you even more than you think?
She puts her hand on yours with a slight smile.
"Thank you for confiding in me," she says, your cheeks slightly flushed, hers too.
You both look at each other for a moment before she lets go and you both go back to work.
-
If only the work had gone on for longer.
After the one meeting, you saw her every day of the vacation. Always with the excuse that you supposedly "need to add something" (does going to the movies together add something to your project?).
It's been more than a week since you first met.
"You're in love," Mina says as she parks her car in front of Jihyo's house.
"I-"
"Don't even try to find an excuse, it's all good" she replies with a small grin.
You both get out of the car and walk to her house, the music so loud you can hear it several meters away.
How Jihyo, who is slightly drunk, hears the doorbell is also a mystery to you.
"Hey guys!" she greets you, she shakes Mina's hand and gives her a kind of high five, she gives you a hug.
You smile at her as the three of you walk into the living room.
"I'm going to Chaeyoung," Mina whispers, or rather shouts, in your ear before disappearing.
"Y/n, do you want to play a drinking game with us?" asks Jihyo, you nod.
Maybe it was a stupid decision.
Jihyo and her friends (of whom you only know Jeongyeon) only understand drinking games to mean taking shots and asking stupid questions.
Either answer - or drink.
You always chose the second option.
After about 7 questions (maybe more, maybe less - you lost count of that pretty fast) you get up and say that you need some fresh air.
Since you've been to her house several times, you know where the upstairs balcony is.
It's quite big, with a parasol and two folding chairs. You sit down on one and close your eyes, your head throbs a little.
"Are you okay?" someone asks after a few minutes.
To your surprise (not really a surprise), Jihyo stands next to you before sitting down on the chair to your right.
"Yeah, it's just the alcohol," you say.
You and alcohol, not really a good combination.
Especially not when you're sitting next to the girl you're in love with.
"Do you have a girlfriend?" you ask out of nowhere.
She shakes his head, "I thought it was obvious" she says and laughs a little.
"I love you" you confess.
She turns to you, but before he can answer anything, you keep talking.
"I know we haven't known each other that long... a month?? more? less? but-... I just have this feeling with you that I only used to have with her"
"I thought I'd never feel it again," you say, a tear running down your cheek.
Jihyo looks at you, her eyes slightly watery.
Is she crying too?
"Y/n" she says, interrupting your continued rambling.
She gets up, kneels down in front of your chair, and -
kisses you.
Her soft lips on yours.
She pulls away after just a few seconds and you already feel like you miss her lips.
"I love you too Y/n" she says softly.
You look at her in amazement.
"Really?" you ask.
"That's why I asked if you had a girlfriend" now it all makes so much more sense.
She pulls you up and takes you to the guest room. She tries to lay you down on the bed but you pull her with you and she falls on top of you.
You both stare at each other and laugh a little.
"You're drunk, get some rest," she says, kissing your forehead.
"I'll be here when you wake up"
-
And she really is next to you when you wake up.
"Good morning..." you groan as you rub your eyes.
She smiles at you, "good morning" she says, from the look on her face you suspect she woke up just a few minutes before you.
You pull her closer to you by her collar and kiss her, she kisses you back while her hand is on your cheek.
The kiss is just perfect, gentle, slow, a perfect way to start his morning.
But it can also be perfect in another way.
It gets warmer under the covers as you continue kissing, she kisses down your jaw to your neck, leaving a trail of wet kisses on it. You can't help but rub your thighs together a little.
"What about the others?" you ask.
"I kicked them out yesterday after you fell asleep" she says, continuing to kiss your neck, even nibbling on it, making you let out soft moans.
"Jihyo, I think you should know that I am a virgin" you say, your cheeks heating up a little in embarrassment.
She giggles a little, kissing you on the lips again.
"Nothing to be embarrassed about baby" she replies with a smile.
She gets on top of you, continuing to kiss you.
You think kissing Jihyo is the best thing in the world.
Her hands trail over your body, giving you a soft squeeze here and there.
"Can I?" she asks, her hand playing with the buttons on your pants.
"Please" you answer with a smile.
She complies and opens them, pulling off your pants and leaving you in your underwear.
You sit up a little, your hands on her waist, feeling up her muscles, especially her abs.
"Want me to take it off?" she asks, you nod.
She pulls off her shirt over her head, dropping it somewhere on the floor.
Your finger trails up his stomach to her bra, looking at her like she is a work of art (she definetly is one).
"Done admiring me?" she asks with a teasing grin, to which you reply "never".
She leans down again, kissing your face as she starts to trail them down till he arrives at the waistband of your underwear.
"Can I?" she asks again, "yes" you answer, already out of breath.
She takes your underwear off, her hands placed on your thighs as she leaves kisses everywhere.
You can definetly tell that she has a thing for kissing.
When she places a kiss right on your clit though, you let out a small moan.
She begins licking and sucking on it, making you grab her hair with your hands as your fingers curl deeper into her scalp, leaving a delicious burn.
She drags her tongue down as she circles your core, slowly entering it a little.
You let out more moans as you turn your head to the side, moaning into the pillow.
Her tongue feels so good when you realise that you are closer and closer to your climax.
"Jihyo- I think I'm gonna-"
"Let it out princess" she mumbles against your core, the vibrations of her voice stimulating you even more as you cum into her mouth.
She smiles at you as he sits up, watching you coming down from your high.
You smile back at him as your cheeks turn red again.
"Can I?" she asks, her fingers trailing down your soft skin as her nails scratch you a little.
You look at her hand, a few veins poking out, her fingers thin but long.
You look at her again, nodding.
You pulled her closer as she rubs your clit with her fingers, you suck in your breath as she slowly pushes them in, the little stretch burning in a way that makes you even hornier.
She slips them in completly, you let out a moan in response. She takes your hand with her free one as your fingers intertwine.
She starts to slowly thrust into you, kissing you again as her tongue explores your mouth.
"You're so tight baby.." she mumbles into your mouth.
You can't help but let out louder moans when she starts to speed up a little.
Her fingers drive you crazy, it feels like she is everywhere, you feel her everywhere in your body as she exits and enters you.
"P-please jihyo- faster" you moan out, and who would she be if she wouldn't listen to your wishes?
She speeds up her thrusts, kissing down your neck again as her hot breath hits your skin.
Your hand grips the pillow your hand is laying on, moaning against your arm as you can feel Jihyo curling her fingers.
She thrusts into you again before you moan loudly, cumming as your thighs close around her wrist, panting heavily as she lets herself fall onto the spot next to you.
You both stare at the ceiling, the only sounds the heavy breathing from you.
You move her hand to yours and intertwine your fingers. She moves her head to the side to look at you, smiling.
You think seeing her smiling is something you can never get enough of.
-
Idiots in love, thats how you two can be described.
The next few months were full of love. Kisses here, kisses there. It didn't even have to be sexual, no, it was always romantic, no matter what you did together.
After a few months, she gave you a ring.
"One day I'll buy you an expensive, real diamond ring and ask you to marry me," she said, and since then you've both worn the matching rings without taking them off once.
If only it had stayed that way.
It's late at night, you're lying in bed reading a book when you get a message.
"I love you,
I'm sorry" - from Jihyo.
You sit up and stare at your cell phone.
"What's wrong?" you type and send the message, she replies,
"I can't take it anymore"
She can't take it anymore?
You feel a twinge in your head as you suddenly realize something.
It's too similar to Dahyun's goodbye.
"I can't live in this world anymore" she wrote in her text.
You look at her location, and without hesitation you walk, no - storm out of your apartment and run to her.
She's not far away, a bridge situated over a river only 5 minutes away, and you think you've never been so grateful for anything.
You squeeze your eyes shut, trying to see anything while your clothes get wetter and wetter, the rain completly drenches you.
Again it feels like a cliché love drama.
Only maybe this time you have the chance to have a happy ending.
Your legs are burning from all the running as you arrive on the bridge.
"Jihyo!" you shout, the rain pattering loudly on the asphalt, forcing you to shout even louder for her.
Her bike is right next to her, one leg over the railing, her hands gripping it tightly, as if she's...
Scared?
"Y/n?" she answers, her voice low and shaky.
"Please..." you say as you walk slowly towards her.
She doesn't stop you when you take her hand in yours.
"Why didn't you tell me?" you ask, she looks at you as a tear runs down her cheek.
"I-... I didn't want you to worry. I thought this feeling would go away if I didn't talk to anyone about it," she says.
Whether your face is wet from the rain or your tears, you don't know.
"Believe me, you have to talk to me, then it will get better," you say.
Her face comes closer to yours and, without answering, she kisses you.
You kiss her back, try to grab her so you can hold her closer - but she lets go.
Completely.
You slowly open your eyes, afraid of what you will see - but you see nothing.
No one.
The rain completely overwhelms you.
"No..." you whisper, looking down on the floor and picking up something shiny.
Her ring.
You look out over the railing and see the water turning slightly red.
It feels like you're trapped in a vicious circle, like you'll never find peace again.
You are trapped, with no way out.
-
While other people find the rain soothing, you find it to be more like torture.
While other people would stay indoors in weather like this, you're outside again.
Again in front of a grave.
But this time it's Jihyo's.
Everything feels too similar and you hate it more than anything.
"It's not your fault" is a sentence you started to hate.
You hoped so much that you would never have to hear or read it again.
"Why didn't you talk to me..." you whisper, as if she could hear you.
Your hand clutches the letter, it slowly getting soaked by the rain.
You don't dare to move.
"You knew what happened..."
All time does is passing -
"Why did you hide it from me..." Your voice is full of despair.
And all you ever do is grieve.
"Life without you is no way to live" the white flower falls on his grave -
just like her ring,
engraved with your name.
She helped you recover from Dahyun's death.
You just wish you wouldn't have to recover over her death alone now.
In another universe, you've seemed to found your place in Jihyo's arms.
Take me Back to Eden - The Apparition - Part 5.5 (Jihyo x Nayeon)
(Jihyo x Nayeon) (Fem!Reader x Mina)
Take Me Back to Eden - Choke Hold - Part 1
Take Me Back To Eden - Granite - Part 2
Take Me Back To Eden - Aqua Regia - Part 3
Take Me Back to Eden - Ascensionism - Part 4
Take Me Back to Eden - The Apparition - Part 5
Word Count: 4.3k
Angst/Suggestive/Smut
Summary: This takes places at the end of Part 4 and goes through the end of Part 5! Following around Jihyo and Nayeon as they discover what Y/N has been doing since they left the shared apartment, and who Y/N has been hanging out with.
TW: This shit is toxic as hell. broken glass, plates thrown, pushing, manipulation, gas lighting, stalking, crime, implied sex, talking about sex, sex is also happening, crying, uh...more of the same really.
A/N: THANK YOU ALL SO MUCH FOR 100 FOLLOWERS! I didn't imagine this kind of support when I started out, so to see it happen so quickly has been truly amazing and I'm so so so so grateful for all of you<3 Shout out to @nr1chaedickrider for helping me concoct this crazy dramatic ass side part lmaoooo<3
—
“What the fuck are you doing here?…what is that on your neck?” ringing out throughout the studio apartment, as Jihyo slammed the door behind her.
“I don’t really think she will be much use to you tonight but you’re more than welcome to try.” Y/n condescending retorts, as she makes her way to the front door.
“Oh, by the way,” Y/n turning to make sure to make eye contact before delivering the striking blow.
“I hope you like the way I taste. Enjoy.” smiling as she walks out of the apartment as Jihyo is absolutely dumbstruck at what just happened.
Silence falls creating an eerie feeling of hideous rage and tension that only Jihyo could feel as she walks into the room to see Nayeon completely naked, only a small portion of the sheet hiding her hips, covered in bruises and bite marks.
“What the actual fuck, Nayeon?” Jihyo hissed above her as she glared down at Nayeon’s limp body.
“..don’t want to talk..” Nayeon sleepily let out as Jihyo fumed.
“You’re just going to let me look like a fool about all of this? After all the trouble we went through? After everything I did to make sure Y/n never found out, and you’re just going to betray me…? What about us?”
“There is no we or us, Hyo. We just fuck when she’s not around. I never cared about you like that and you know it.” lifelessly left Nayeon’s lips as she drifted into sleep.
Jihyo pulls her phone out returning to the kitchen, and calls Y/N multiple times with no answer, “I bet she’s going to Momo’s.” Instantly calling her.
“Hello?” Momo answered surprised as Jihyo immediately started yelling.
“Have you spoken with Y/n?” the thorns of her tone wrapping around her throat, choking her out.
“I haven’t…why?” Standoffish considering what Jihyo had done to Y/n with Nayeon previously.
“Because I just caught her leaving Nayeon’s apartment with a bunch of random shit, hickies all over her and Nayeon can’t even speak to me and is covered in WORSE marks, and she said some vile shit to me too!” Jihyo screamed in an unhinged rage, fists bawled, tears spilling, a massive hole opened up in her chest that Nayeon created.
“Shut the fuck up, I’m trying to sleep!” Shouted from the bedroom, annoyed tone present from the exhaustion that sunk Nayeon’s muscles.
“Don’t interrupt me!” Harshly yelled back to the bedroom as she kept venting to Momo, probably the worst person to vent to considering she was Y/N’s best friend.
“She fucking said and I quote, “I don’t really think she will be much use to you tonight but you’re more than welcome to try.” And then she had the audacity to say “I hope you like the way I taste, enjoy.”
Those words would ricochet against the inside of her skull for the rest of her existence, and she would never be able to scrub them off. Silently crying with the phone still held up to her ear. Momo is completely silent on the other end of the phone, not even knowing what to say.
“Y/n? Said that? You expect me to believe that happened?” almost accusing Jihyo of making it up completely. How could Momo trust her after what she was an accomplice for?
“Momo-“ voice cracking as she speaks “why would I lie about something like that?” Jihyo questions her back as she wipes the tears from her eyes.
“Hyo, you can’t be serious…You already did” calmly tossed back at her, nausea flashes over her skiing, realizing that no one is on her side.
She was the bad guy in everyone’s eyes, and the thought of that made her skin crawl. She wasn’t the one who did the act, she didn’t cheat on anyone, Nayeon did. Why couldn’t anyone empathize with her? Was she crazy for feeling the way that she did about it?
“If you talk to Y/N, let her know I want to speak with her.” Jihyo hung up immediately after. Becoming completely inconsolable, wrapped in her own misery as the person she risked it all for, had not a care in the world about what happened to her.
She began to sob loudly, cries bouncing off the vaulted ceilings as she went on, wondering why she wasn’t good enough for Nayeon, why she couldn’t just make her happy, why Nayeon would do something like this to her…
Jihyo stood up firmly, and walked into the bedroom. Nayeon was fast asleep on the bed, sheet covering her thighs up to her waist, legs dangling off the edge, not bothering to fix the position Y/n had her in. Jihyo was disgusted by this.
The light flicked on, Jihyo stood silently just looking at the scene before her. The bed was ruined, sheets needed to be changed, Nayeon sleeping peacefully after what looked to be a fight. Hand prints, bruises, bite marks and some welts littering her body.
“Wake up,” pushing Nayeon’s shoulder hard as she sat down on the bed.
“Ugh fine, what?” irritated at the interruption of her slumber, not even bothering to open her eyes.
“Why the fuck did you sleep with her again? You told me that we were going to be together now, imagine my surprise when we had plans and I came in with the key you gave me, to see Y/N, your very recent ex in the kitchen??” Choking back tears as she yelled, trying to show Nayeon how hurt she was.
Laying down with her eyes closed, Nayeon didn’t even flinch at the sound but opened her eyes. Looking at Jihyo with fury, brows furrowed in the heat of her emotions.
“I love Y/n. Just because we were fucking doesn’t mean you’re even in line, Jihyo. You were the one that fucked this up for me, you should’ve waited for me to reach out to you instead of texting me that bullshit, and I won’t forgive you for it either.” words branding into Jihyo’s brain as Nayeon got up and stretched.
“Besides, you can’t do this” gesturing to her body with her hands as Jihyo stares at the roadmap placed on Nayeon’s body by Y/n , “like she can.” Walking toward the bathroom and closing the door behind her. Shower rushing on, and door sliding back.
Jihyo walked out of the tense bedroom into the kitchen to search for the wine Nayeon bought the other day, and poured herself a glass and chugged it. Looking over to see the vase full of roses, and the note written for Y/n.
The way the crystal of the vase refracted the light and the reds of the roses was infuriating, Nayeon wouldn’t even glance at flowers for Jihyo - let alone get her any. Walking over to the vase, picking it up, smelling the roses, briefly admiring them, and then smashing the vase against the floor in a fit of rage.
Nayeon rushed out of the bedroom, soaking wet, to find the scene in the kitchen, Jihyo drinking out of a wine glass, leaning against the counter, one leg crossed over the other. Glancing down to see the vase shattered, glass and rose petals everywhere.
“It’s kind of poetic, isn’t it?” Jihyo said matter of factly, looking up from the rim of her glass.
“Sharp edges and rose petals on the floor between us, you step on roses and I step on glass. Every. Single. Time.” Throwing the wine glass at Nayeon, shattering it against the wall.
Nayeon shields herself from the crashing pieces as Jihyo breaks more glassware around the kitchen. Plates, glasses, and mugs are thrown around the kitchen accompanied by harsh tones and arguing.
“Why are you trying to gaslight me? I have the messages from you saying we were together, Nayeon! I have proof! You can’t gaslight me this time” A mug slung across the room, shattering like Jihyo’s heart.
“All for someone who doesn’t even want you?! Pathetic, I’m standing right here ready to give you the world and you can’t even appreciate that!” A plate this time, crashing into the wall, Nayeon flinching again at the sounds of the ceramic.
“I could say the same thing about you, Hyo!” bravely spit back as the flying glassware came to a halt. Much like the chips of sharp glass, Jihyo shatters into a million pieces. Nayeon runs over and grabs a stunned Jihyo’s wrists, holding them steady as Jihyo falls apart in her arms.
“Why are you never real?“ choking on her words to immediately be shushed down and held against Nayeon’s chest until she was calm.
“I said we might be able to try. But I need to talk to Y/N before that can happen, okay?” Nayeon rubbed her hand up and down Jihyo’s back quickly in an attempted comfort.
“Come on now, let’s clean this up and I’ll change the sheets and we can have a movie night, sound good?” Nayeon coos and winks before disappearing into the bedroom.
Jihyo sighs, grabs a broom and a dustpan, and starts cleaning up the mess she made. Still angry in her own right at Nayeon, but wasn’t in the position to do anything about it and it’s not like Nayeon would care if she walked out right now anyway.
“Nothing good comes easy,” huffing to herself in a moment of toxic positivity, “and she wouldn’t do what she does for me, if she didn’t love me.” Repeating it like a mantra over and over again to herself, alone. Nayeon lightly chuckles in the bedroom, unheard by Jihyo, knowing they will never be.
—
Waking up that afternoon was hard. Jihyo felt exhausted, her eyes were tired as she rolled over to see if Nayeon was still in bed. She wasn’t, no surprise.
Rolling out of bed, in the clothes she showed up in, and walking to the living room to see Nayeon on the couch watching tv by herself, scrolling through her phone mindlessly.
“Did you sleep well?” Jihyo asks, startling Nayeon who flung her phone at the surprise. Giggling at the sight, Jihyo went and picked the phone up to see the open text to Y/n and the few messages she sent in the past 24 hours. Sighing and handing it back, just letting the tears fall, stinging of her eyes becoming all too familiar.
“Are you really crying again? Come on, Hyo. Pull yourself together,” Nayeon says coldly as Jihyo sulks by herself, sniffling as she pours herself a cup of cold coffee.
Nayeon never made coffee for Jihyo, that was something she only did for Y/n, not even remembering how Jihyo takes her coffee or any of her favorites for that matter. No matter how much time they spent together, nothing stuck. Nayeon simply did not care.
“Do you still want to check out that new cafe we talked about last week?” Nayeon said not paying any mind to Jihyo’s current state as she asks about a late lunch.
“Yeah that’s fine. Let me change and I’ll drive.” emptiness present as she spoke and went to the bedroom to grab the clothes she brought with her for today, putting them on quickly and exiting the bedroom for her not date with her not girlfriend.
—
Pulling up to the restaurant and seeing Y/N there was considerably unlucky, but with Mina of all people? Talk about a surprise. And for Mina to be holding her hand and looking at her the way she was, it was no wonder Nayeon was so disgruntled, not that she had any right to be.
Watching Nayeon erupt was hard to watch, knowing it was out of fear that she lost what was so precious to her out of her own selfishness. It was hard for Jihyo to keep quiet as Nayeon’s emotions spew out erratically towards Y/N and Mina. Especially knowing there was never any left for her, always wishing to be her focus.
After driving off and not even eating at the place picked out, Nayeon was in a pure rage in the passenger seat. Punching the glove box relentlessly as the interaction plays back in her head.
“Don’t worry, I’ll take care of her from now since you can’t satiate her, apparently.” And then the wink from Mina. She was living in this memory, Like a broken record, skipping and looping through her brain as she stewed in it.
Jihyo trembled in fear at every punch laid into the car's interior, “Nayeon, calm down! You’re scaring me…” trying to get Nayeon to see she was crossing a line. Nayeon, seeing red, doesn’t budge an inch and continues to spew venom everywhere. Not that Jihyo expected her but to stop, but the effort was still worth it in her eyes.
“Who the fuck does Mina think she is talking about Y/N like that? She must’ve not known who she’s fucking with…Turn around.”
“What?” Confused behind the wheel, Jihyo made a face at the request to turn the car and head back to the cafe. Didn’t they already leave?
“I said fucking turn around, Jihyo” Nayeons eyes black with hatred as she instructs her minion to do her bidding.
Jihyo whips the car around, still crying about the interaction and Nayeon draping herself all over Y/N right in front of her. Speeding back to the location they were just in.
“Make a left up here.” Nayeon orders, as she leans back into her seat, slouching with her legs apart, staring into her phone as she leans her head into her hand.
“Nayeon, where are we going?” a worried response as Jihyo makes the left turn. Nayeon sits up, squinting at the cars in the complex parking lot.
“Turn your lights off and park next to that black 2 door over there.” Pointing at a random car that looks similar to the one they were in that was facing the building.
Jihyo once again, does as she’s told. “Can you please tell me where we are?”
“Y/n never took her location off on my phone. We are spying. So shut up and keep an eye out.” Nayeon evilly instructed as she waited for signs of which apartment belonged to Y/n.
Not 5 minutes later did Y/N walk up to the apartment hand in hand with Mina, laughing and smiling with each other, it made Nayeon sick to her stomach.
“We can leave now.” Nayeon says quietly. Stewing in her anger. Plotting and scheming about how she was going to exact revenge.
Jihyo didn’t hesitate to get out of there. She didn’t want to be a part of whatever was happening, she just wanted Nayeon's love and attention so she did what she told her, at the false promise it would materialize if she proved herself useful.
—
Nayeon seethes on the couch as Jihyo sits silently watching her lover shake in anger, trying to figure out how she can ease the tension within her. Jihyo jumps up and runs around the side of the couch, placing her hands firmly on Nayeon’s shoulder, massaging them firmly.
“That feels so good…baby.” Nayeon whimpers, eyes closed and leaning into the pressure, giving Jihyo the reassurance she craved so desperately.
Sliding her hands down Nayeon’s back, kneading her thumbs into the knots enthusiastically. Tracing up to the back of her head, Jihyo pulls lightly where her shoulders and neck connect, letting go and pushing down on the tension.
Nayeon groans, “You know, I do love your magical hands. They please me so well.” throwing her head back as Jihyo continues to work the knots. Nayeon was playing her predatory game, and Jihyo was the prey.
“Can you get my legs too, my love?” Nayeon pouts, batting her big doe eyes in Jihyo’s direction. Using her for her own gain, taking and no giving. Wondering how much love she could extract from Jihyo as she bent to her will.
Walking around the couch and dropping to the floor as she takes Nayeon’s legs into her hands, massaging down her legs “how does this feel, my love?”
Nayeon suddenly crosses her arms, eyes blurry from tears and she sniffles into her hands.
“Baby, what’s wrong?” Jihyo asks as she stands, cupping Nayeon’s face and wiping a tear away with her thumb, gently.
“Don’t call me that! You aren’t her, and you never will be.” Spitting with extra malice as she pushes Jihyo by the shoulders, knocking her to the floor.
Nayeon stands up, not bothering to even try to help Jihyo up as she prowls past her to the door, still in a predatory mindset as she grabs her purse, her keys, and leaves without a single word.
Jihyo sits in absolute silence. Nayeon has never laid a hand on her in that way before. Not knowing what to do, she sits and tries to unravel the complex emotions she was feeling.
Hatred, anger, jealousy, and emptiness filling her lungs as she bawled her eyes out on the floor of Nayeon’s apartment. Realizing she probably would never be enough for her.
“Where did she even go?” Out loud as she swivels her head towards the door. She didn’t need to ask the question, the answer was written on every wall in this apartment.
Y/n and Nayeon’s shared home, pictures still up from their vacations together, selfies from adventures, and of course the matching mugs in their place next to the coffee pot.
“Of course.” Rolling her eyes, not going after her. She just sat on the couch, and waited for Nayeon to return.
—
Weaving in and out of traffic manically as Nayeon races over to Y/n’s apartment, the only care in the world being whether she can get to Y/n before anything happens between her and Mina. The thought of someone else touching Y/n is repulsive, nauseating, and her skin crawls at the thought.
Pulling into the parking lot of the complex, Nayeon shuts the car off and hops out quickly. Racing over to the apartment she watched Y/N and Mina walk into holding hands. The thoughts induce animosity as she makes her way to the door.
Hesitating to knock, she’s unsure if she really wants to go through with this. She needed more motivation, Nayeon ducks down to avoid being detected and sneaks over to another window with a better view of the living room.
Peaking over the window sill, she sees Mina comforting a crying Y/N on the couch, rubbing her back and mumbling something Nayeon can’t really make out. A death stare lasers the back of Mina’s head as it shoots out of her eyes. “I should be comforting her, not you. And poor Mina has no idea how to deal with Y/N’s panic attacks. I bet she gets overwhelmed and leaves. Y/n needs me” whispering to herself in a psychotic manner.
Nayeon watches as Y/N stands up and starts to pace, ripping her hoodie off so she was just in a sports bra. Mina is still sitting on the couch, face red with a small smile as she watches Y/N pace when she suddenly stands up and catches Y/N by the wrist, pulling her into her arms while wrapping them around Y/n.
Nayeon scoffs at the sight, watching Y/n’s face press against Mina’s neck as she cries, when suddenly Y/n pulls back from Mina, they look into each other’s eyes for a minute as Mina’s hands descending from Y/N’s lower back to her hips, pulling her into a kiss.
Nayeon writhes under the absolute disdain as she watches in horror while the person she wanted more than anyone, willingly kissing someone else. Observing as Mina takes control, and Y/n letting her.
“She never let me do that…” Nayeon sees red and she continues to peep through the window as Mina stands, shoving Y/N lightly onto the couch, removing her sweater as well. Nayeon has just about had enough, turning and running back to her car quickly.
Laughing to herself as she sees a palm sized rock on her way to the vehicle, when a light bulb goes off in her head. Opening the car door and not bothering to close it, she gets inside and begins sifting through her purse, finding her red pen and the small notebook she kept with her. Nayeon rips a page from the inside and scratches “She’s mine” across the paper.
Removing her shoelace and tying the note to the rock securely, she begins to giggle to herself. Walking up to the window by the living room, rock in hand, to see if the make out session was still happening. Catching the view of Mina between Y/N’s legs on the couch as they got closer, almost molding into one another. Mina’s hands reached up behind Y/n to undo her bra when Nayeon completely snapped.
Running over to the front of the apartment, Nayeon launched the rock through the window by the door, laughing maniacally as she did so. Turning around 30 seconds later to run to her car and get out of dodge, knowing Mina would probably call the cops.
Tires screech behind her as she peels out of the parking lot, and heads right back to what Nayeon views as their shared home still. Laughing and crying as she speeds violently around everyone in her way, honking and yelling in a violent fueled frenzy as her heart cracks in half from the weight of the consequences of her own actions.
__
Jihyo is sleeping on the couch when Nayeon gets back to her home. Walking in without care about the sound made, throwing her bag to the side, kicking her shoes off in any direction. Outrage in full swing as she wakes Jihyo by nudging her shoulder.
Jolting awake, Jihyo sees Nayeon and immediately scooches back on the couch as if she’s scared of her, and she has every right to be considering their last altercation.
“What’s wrong, love? I only wanted to hold you.” Nayeon’s emptiness masked in the sweet tone as she extends her arms out for her to fall in. Jihyo knows better than to lean into it but she can’t resist Nayeon making her feel loved. Her affection being the sweetest form of sugar and her anger being the sharpest knife, and when she twists it? Unbearable pain and torment.
Jihyo was trapped, ensnared in what she thought could be love. Nayeon held her as she turned the blade in her back yet again, removing only the pieces she wanted.
“I’m going to need that mouth of yours. Do you think you can do that for me?” kissing Jihyo’s jaw and moving down to her neck.
Jihyo whimpered and nodded her head, loving the aggression, as Nayeon wrapped her hands around her hair and pulled her onto the ground, a stark difference from the honeyed tone in her voice. Keeping her hand tangled as she instructed Jihyo to unbutton her pants and pull them down to her knees. “I’m going to show you why you’ll never leave me, no matter what I do. You’ll always be a phone call away.”
Nayeon leans down and forcefully shoves her tongue in Jihyo’s mouth, no surprises for Jihyo, she knows what’s coming as Nayeon parts from her, situating herself, pussy dripping in front of Hyo.
Jihyo’s hands lay on Nayeon’s thighs, “I love you” as she opens her mouth, sticking her tongue out allowing Nayeon access to what she was craving, even if it wasn’t the mouth she wanted.
Nayeon grabs Jihyo’s hair as she slowly starts to ride on her tongue, picking up the pace as she finds a steady rhythm. “Just like that, baby” whining through the pleasure that coursed through her veins.
She’s aggressively fucks Jihyo’s mouth, groaning as she grinds down on the tongue of her other lover, only thinking about release of the pent up rage and the rush of the crime she had just committed.
Jihyo is just happy to feel useful as she’s on her knees, letting Nayeon get her aggression out, latching onto her clit and humming while she sucks. Breath is quickening, getting closer to combustion as the snapping of her hips accelerates.
Feeling her panties getting wetter by the second as Jihyo's mouth gets used. She’s sure they’re completely ruined but she wouldn't dare complain, enjoying Nayeon’s sweet taste more and more every time she gets the chance to indulge in her flavor.
Nayeon’s hips start to sputter unevenly as she moans out body tensing as the dopamine launches into her bloodstream, reveling in the pleasure as she continues to ride out the orgasm.
Jihyo slips 2 fingers into Nayeon’s cunt, stretching her out and holding them at the exact angle she would need to make herself cum again. Hair being gripped tightly as her head is pushed and pulled with the new rapidness created mere seconds ago.
“Jus- fuck, baby… just one -right there, fuck- more.” Nayeon gasps as the knot in her stomach tightens again. Jihyo immediately starts thrusting her fingers when she feels Nayeon clench around her and with little time to prepare, another orgasm quickly rips through her body causing her to collapse onto the couch, breathing heavily and whimpering in euphoria.
Jihyo takes in Nayeon’s state, glimmering with sweat, roses cheeks, flawless chest shining and a sense of peacefulness binding her in her place. This is why she stays. The visual of Nayeon in this state, the softness and the sweet moments she was capable of were more than enough to keep Jihyo in her place.
“Let’s do that again” Nayeon huffed out, reaching for Jihyo’s hand to pull her up on the couch, caressing while lightly placing their lips together. She tastes herself on Jihyo’s mouth, wetness layering on top of itself as she deepened the kiss when a loud knock at the door pulled them out of the moment.
“Police, open up!”
Jihyo and Nayeon look at each other, confused.
“Nayeon…what did you do?… What the fuck did you do?!” Jihyo's voice trembles, concern woven between the words.
Nayeon with a maniacal smile “Oh, my sweet sweet baby…you mean what did YOU do, don’t you?”
