A/N: Sometimes the person who loves you the most isn’t always the best at saying it. 🤍 This one is for the quiet lovers ( LIKE ME ) the ones who show everything through their actions but struggle to put those feelings into words.
The apartment was quiet except for the soft hum of the air conditioner and the occasional rustle of pages from the living room couch. Taehyung had been home for three hours already, sitting in his usual spot on the opposite end of the sectional, scrolling through his phone with an expression that gave nothing away. He hadn't said much since walking through the door, just a quiet "I'm home" and a nod when YN asked if he'd eaten.
That was Taehyung. He'd always been like this, even three years into their relationship, even a full year into living together. He wasn't cold in the way that meant he didn't care. He cared deeply, obsessively, but he showed it in quiet ways, making sure her coffee was ready before she woke up, fixing the loose shelf she'd complained about weeks ago, pulling her closer in his sleep. Actions over words always.
YN, on the other hand, was everything he wasn't. Expressive, warm, prone to dramatic declarations of love and physical affection. She'd tell him she loved him at least ten times a day, draping herself over him like a cat seeking warmth. He'd accept it silently, his hand finding her back, his thumb tracing small circles. She'd learned to read his love in those tiny gestures, because his mouth rarely formed the words.
But lately, lately, she'd been struggling.
Not with loving him, that was easy. Not with feeling loved, she knew she was, deep in her bones. No, the struggle was something else entirely. Something she was too embarrassed to bring up, because they'd been together for four years and she still felt like a virgin every time they tried to be intimate. In the year they'd lived together, they'd had sex exactly five times. Five. She'd counted. They went weeks, sometimes months, without touching each other in that way, settling into a comfortable rhythm of pecks on the lips and hugs and his arm around her while they watched TV.
It was comfortable and safe but
it was maddening which is why she was currently sprawled across the couch with her tablet propped against a pillow, reading the filthiest, most explicit smut she could find. Her cheeks were flushed, her thighs pressed together, her heart racing as she read about a cold, stoic CEO who finally snapped and bent his assistant over the desk and fucking destroyed her. The parallels weren't lost on her. She shifted on the couch, her panties growing damp, her breath coming in shallow gasps. She was so absorbed in the story that she didn't hear the footsteps approaching. Didn't notice the shadow falling over her. Didn't register that Taehyung had gotten up from his end of the couch and was now standing directly above her, looking down at the tablet screen with an unreadable expression.
"YN."
His voice was low, flat, the same tone he used when he was about to point out that she'd left the stove on or that her phone was about to die. But something was different. Something flickered in his dark eyes.
She looked up, her face panic stricken, her hand instinctively slamming down on the tablet screen as if that would somehow erase what he'd already seen. "Oh- hi, i didn't- you're done with your phone?"
He didn't respond. Instead, he reached down and plucked the tablet from her hands, turning it over to look at the screen. His eyes scanned the text, taking in the lewd descriptions, and she watched his throat bob as he swallowed.
"She gasped as he pushed her up against the wall, his thick cock sliding between her slick folds."
He read the line out loud, his voice still flat, but now there was an edge to it. Something rough. Something that made her thighs press together even harder.
"Tae, please stop" she started, reaching for the tablet.
He held it out of reach, his eyes finally lifting to meet hers. "You're reading this. On our couch. While I'm sitting right next to you."
"I, it's just- I got bored, and the algorithm recommended it, and- "
"Do you want this?"
The question cut through her rambling. She stared at him, mouth open, not sure how to answer. Because yes, obviously yes, but also she didn't want to pressure him, didn't want him to feel like she was dissatisfied with their relationship or with him. They'd had this conversation before, twice, in the early days of living together. It had ended with them each promising to initiate more, to be more open, and then life got busy and they fell back into their comfortable patterns.
"Do you want this?" he repeated, stepping closer. His voice was still quiet, but there was weight to it, a thread of tension she'd never heard before. "Do you want to be fucked like they describe in this book, YN?"
The word fucked coming from his mouth made her shiver. "I... I don't know what you mean."
He set the tablet down on the coffee table, then reached over and pulled her earbuds out. She heard the audio from his phone playing softly, some documentary about deep sea creatures. He'd been watching that. Meanwhile she'd been reading about being bent over desks.
"I mean," he said slowly, "do you want me to do these things to you?"
Her mouth went dry. "Tae-"
"Answer me."
She swallowed hard. "Yes. But I don't want you to feel pressured. I know you're not... you know, that into it. And that's okay. I've accepted it. I can just-"
"The vibrator you have hidden in the nightstand drawer says otherwise."
Her face burned. "You knew about that?"
"I live here, YN. I see things. I just didn't bring it up because I didn't want to embarrass you." He knelt down in front of her, his eyes level with hers. "I also know you cry in the shower sometimes. Not often. But sometimes. And I know it's because you think I don't want you. That something's wrong with you. That I'm not attracted to you."
She blinked. She'd been so careful. She'd never cried loudly, never let him see. But of course he knew. He always knew. He noticed everything, even when he didn't say anything.
"Tae, that's not-"
"It is." He cut her off, his voice finally cracking, emotion bleeding through the cracks. "It is, and I'm sorry. I'm sorry I made you feel that way. I'm sorry I've been so wrapped up in my own head that I forgot to show you how much I want you." His hand came up, cupping her cheek, his thumb brushing over her lower lip. "I want you so much it scares me sometimes. I have to hold myself back when I kiss you goodnight because if I let myself feel it, I'd never stop."
She stared at him, her heart pounding. "You... you do?"
"I was raised to keep my feelings inside," he said quietly. "To never let anyone see what I'm thinking. It's how I survived. But with you, I don't want to survive. I want to live. I want to feel. I just... I don't know how."
Her eyes welled with tears. "You show me all the time. "
"That's not enough." His voice was rough. "It's not enough when you're reading books like this because I can't give you what you need. Not enough when you're crying in the shower because you think I don't want you." He leaned in, his forehead pressing against hers. "Let me give you this. Let me show you what I've been holding back."
She was trembling. "Taehyung..."
"Tell me yes. Tell me you want this. Tell me you want me, the way I really am, not the safe version I've been giving you."
She searched his face, seeing the raw vulnerability there, the crack in his armor. This was the man she'd loved for three years before they moved in together, the one who showed his love through actions. And now he was offering her something more passionate and raw.
"Yes," she breathed. "Yes, Tae. I want you. I want all of you."
Something shifted in his eyes. The coldness didn't so much leave as transform, hardening into something else. Something hungry. Something possessive. Something that made her feel like prey.
"Then take off your clothes." His voice was quiet, but commanding. "Now."
She hesitated for only a second before reaching for the hem of her oversized t-shirt. She pulled it off, leaving herself in just a simple cotton bralette and sleep shorts.
"All of it."
She unhooked the bralette, letting it fall, then shimmied out of the shorts. She was left in plain black panties, her nipples hardening in the cool air of the apartment.
"These too."
She slid her panties off, tossing them aside, now completely naked while he knelt before her, still fully clothed. She'd never felt so exposed, so vulnerable. But the way he was looking at her, like she was something precious, something he couldn't believe he got to have, made her feel powerful.
"You're so beautiful," he said, his voice reverent. "I don't say it enough. I know i don't say a lot of things I should say." He reached out, tracing a finger from her collarbone down between her breasts, over her stomach. "But I'm going to say it a lot tonight. And I'm going to show you, too."
He stood up, then, and she thought he was going to lead her to the bedroom. Instead, he knelt between her legs, his hands sliding up her thighs, parting them.
"You're wet," he observed, his voice dark with satisfaction. "So wet. Were you this wet while you were reading? Thinking about some fictional man when you have a real one sitting right next to you?"
"Tae- "
"I'm not angry," he said, cutting her off. "I'm going to make you forget that book ever existed. By the time I'm done, you won't remember any other man's name except mine."
He leaned in, pressing his mouth to her inner thigh, kissing a slow trail upward. She gasped, her hands flying to his hair. He kissed her outer lips, gentle, teasing, then finally dragged his tongue through her slick folds.
"Fuck," he groaned against her. "You taste incredible."
Her head fell back, a moan escaping her. He licked her slowly, savoring her, drinking her in like she was the finest meal he'd ever had. His tongue found her clit and circled it lazily, drawing out a whimper. Then he sucked it into his mouth, and her entire body jerked.
"Please Tae"
"Please what?" He looked up at her, his lips glistening, his eyes dark. "Please do this? Or please stop?"
"Neither. Both. I don't know." She was babbling, and she didn't care. "Just don't stop."
He didn't. He ate her like she was his last meal, his tongue working her clit while one, then two fingers slid inside her. She was so tight, so wet, and he groaned at the feel of her.
"You're tight," he murmured against her. "So fucking tight. Have we even done this enough for you to be this tight?"
"We've barely done it at all," she gasped.
"Then I'll have to fix that. I'll have to fuck you open properly."
The words made her clench around his fingers, and he smirked. He added a third finger, stretching her, scissoring her open, and the stretch burned in the best way. She was close already, embarrassingly close, but she didn't want to come yet. She wanted to come with him inside her.
"Tae I'm going to-"
"Not yet." He withdrew his fingers, and she whined at the loss. He stood up, looking down at her naked, trembling, desperate. Then he pulled his shirt over his head, and her mouth went dry.
She'd seen him shirtless before. Countless times. But tonight, it felt different. Intentional. He was showing her his body the way she'd shown him hers. His skin was smooth, his chest defined, his abs sharp. And there, straining against his sweatpants, was the evidence of how much he wanted her.
He hooked his thumbs into the waistband and pushed his sweatpants down. His cock sprang free, hard and thick, the tip flushed and leaking.
"Like what you see?" he asked, a hint of teasing in his voice.
"I always do," she whispered.
He climbed onto the couch, settling between her legs, his weight pressing her into the cushions. He leaned down, kissing her mouth, letting her taste herself on his lips. Then he positioned himself at her entrance, and they both stilled.
"Tell me you're ready," he said, his voice strained.
"I'm ready."
He pushed in slowly, just the tip, and they both moaned. She was so tight that he had to pause, letting her adjust. He breathed through it, his forehead pressing against hers.
"Fuck, you feel so good," he gritted out. "So hot, so tight."
"More," she begged. "Please, Tae. All of it."
He thrust in deeper, inch by inch, until he was fully seated inside her. She felt impossibly full, stretched in ways she hadn't been in months. He stayed still, letting her body accommodate him, his hands cupping her face.
"You have no idea how much I've wanted this," he whispered. "How many nights I've lain next to you, wanting to touch you, wanting to be inside you, but convincing myself you were asleep or that you'd reject me."
"I would never reject you," she breathed.
"I know that now. But I was scared. Scared that if I let myself have you fully, I'd lose control. Lose myself." He began to move, slow, shallow thrusts that made her gasp. "I was scared of this. Of how good you feel. How much I need you."
"Taehyung..." His name fell from her lips like a prayer.
He picked up the pace, his hips finding a rhythm. The couch creaked beneath them, the sound mixing with their moans and the wet slap of skin. He drove into her, hitting deeper with every stroke, and she wrapped her legs around his waist, pulling him in.
"That's it," he groaned. "Take all of me."
She was climbing toward the edge again, the coil in her belly winding tight. He reached between them, his thumb finding her clit, and she cried out.
"Come for me," he commanded. "Come with me inside you. Let me feel you."
She shattered. Her orgasm crashed through her, her inner walls clenching around him, pulling him deeper. He followed her over the edge with a guttural groan, his hips shuddering as he spilled inside her, filling her, claiming her.
They collapsed together, sweaty and trembling, his body still pressed against hers. For a long moment, neither of them spoke. Then he lifted his head, his eyes soft, his usual mask completely gone.
"I love you," he said. Not quiet. Not reluctant. Firm, sure, his eyes locked on hers. "I don't say it enough. I don't say a lot of things enough. But I love you, YN. I love you so much it hurts."
Her eyes welled with tears again. "I know. I've always known."
"Then you also know that I'm going to do this again. And again. And again." His hand came up, brushing a strand of hair from her face. "I'm going to make up for every night I held back. Every time I wanted you and didn't act on it. I'm going to worship your body until you can't remember a time when I wasn't touching you."
"That sounds good," she whispered.
"It sounds fair." He kissed her forehead, then pulled out slowly, both of them gasping at the sensation. He looked down at her, sated and flushed, and a genuine smile "I'm going to get us some water. Don't move."
He padded naked to the kitchen, his body a shadow in the dim light. She watched him go, a smile on her own face, feeling more loved than she had in months.
When he came back with two bottles of water, he settled beside her, pulling her into his arms. She curled into him, her head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat slow back to normal.
"I read something funny in your book," he said after a while, his voice thoughtful.
"What?"
"Something about a cold CEO who couldn't express his feelings but showed his love through actions." He pressed a kiss to the top of her head. "That's not supposed to be me, is it?"
Her face flushed. "No. Maybe. I don't know."
"I'm not cold," he said quietly. "I'm just... broken in a way that makes it hard to say things. But I'm going to try harder. For you. Because you deserve to hear it, not just see it."
"I love you." He said it again, firmer this time, his hand tilting her chin up to meet his eyes. "I love you, YN. You're my whole world. You're the only person I've ever let in, the only person I've ever wanted. And I'm going to spend the rest of my life showing you that."
She kissed him, deep and slow, putting all her love into it. When they broke apart, he was smiling again
"Now," he said, his voice dropping back into that low, dangerous register, "I think I remember something in that book about a second round. Something about the desk in the study?"
Her breath caught. "You want to ?"
"I want to do everything in that book. And then I want to make up some things that aren't in there." He stood up, pulling her to her feet. "Bend over the desk."
She shivered at the command, but she let him lead her to the study, a new fire kindling in her belly. This was a Taehyung she'd never met before, a side of him she'd only glimpsed in her fantasies. And she was ready to explore every inch of it.
❀ ݁₊ . tagline— She’s a flower, and he’s a butterfly. She’s learning to fly, and he’s trying to see what life is like when one feels grounded - stable.
❀ ݁₊ . pairing— kth x oc
❀ ݁₊ .wc— 14.3k
❀ ݁₊ .date— 14/08/2026
❀ mdi || index || playlist || moodboard chp.57 || main m.list || taglist ❀
❀ | zy’s corner. Hello everyone! We're back with new shit, chapter 57. As usual, I'll begin from the epigraph, a direct reference to the title, which is taken, for those who might have noticed, by House of the Dragon.
The term song still ties to the previous chapter running theme of the piano as the symbolic instrument, and people just being keys to different notes but all with the same sound.
The piano is still there, the gossip never dies. It's the way that it spreads that determines the key of the voice that fuels it.
Ice and Fire are the new theme bleeding through the cracks between the piano keys. Both are extremes, one of cold and the other of heat.
They don't exclusively belong to the characters because they are also the defining elements of the world around them.
Now, finally the chapter and how these themes manifest.
In the first section, with Cleo as its focus, ice manifests itself as absence and the grief that comes with it.
Whilst Daphne hurts with Cleo present, Cleo now hurts in Daphne’s absence, rebuilding her figure through small defining elements, such as scent, habits, and physical characteristics.
Not a snowman, but a frozen statue.
But the ice also works as a chamber, a jail that, at first glance, seems to refer to the school and the students forced to stay in it because they didn't pass all their classes. But it's also the basic contrast between warmer interior and cold exterior, just as it always is in winter.
In Daphne's case, the contrast isn't between a building and the world surrounding it; it's about her own body, her friends, her boyfriend and the world around her, where the cold is meant to impress rather than compress.
So fire manifests as a physical and logical consequence for Cleo but is more of a feeling for Daphne, mentally and emotionally speaking, when talking about the company, but just as physically, when returning to the resort and getting changed from cold jeans to warmer sweatpants.
The contrast returns, though, and this one shatters conventions because we find the cold within the heat, commonly deemed as unlikely, and this is represented by Adrielle.
Adrielle and Malakai's growing relationship relies on this contrast because, at first glance, it feeds into curiosity with excitement, like finally reaching for heat after almost losing the feelings in your hands.
Here, ice also gains a human form, wearing Adrielle's skin and speaking with her voice - a perfect match.
With Jungkook and Avyanna, though, the contrast brings discomfort rather than curiosity or excitement, just like touching hot water with frozen hands.
It's rather odd and confusing.
Avyanna’s words feel just like that to Jungkook, mere warmth against black frozen fingers, used to the cold but seeking for a way out. But he's not ready to lose a few fingers in the process.
The dinner at the resort, at face value, is a den of heat - hot food, fireplace, friendly company, and homely energies throughout the building.
But a pile of snow doesn't immediately melt in the heat, just as the joy and elation didn't instantly delete the thoughts that have been plaguing Daphne’s mind like weeds.
In fact, there's ice underneath the pile of snow, and Daphne is adamant on digging deeper and break it apart, but she can't do it alone because she lacks the strength.
So she clings to the people around her and how they behave, reads into that and tries to make something of it. But the heat was melting off the ice, and now everything was a massive drool, leaving Daphne taking one thing for something else.
And when she discovers it, she cowards away, looks for the cold all over again, and hopes that it'd be the right place to fetch the truth she was desperately seeking.
Cleo still lives in the contrast between inner warmth and outer cold, choosing to let the cold truth fade behind foggy windows and stay out in the dark winter evening.
But the cold comes in many forms and can simply bleed through the cracks until there's enough for others to notice that Cleo's shivering and needs to warm up.
But Cleo doesn't want to stay warm, cannot because everything felt cold, the absence was building ice in Daphne's place, and all she could do was watch and hope that the warmth would become stronger enough to melt it away.
Hope I wasn't too vague, but I didn't want to spoil much because I really want to know your opinions on this chapter.
How fucking ironic that as I'm talking about heat and cold, I catch a fucking cold in the heat of August, like wtf...?
Enjoy and don't forget to show some love.
See you on the next one.
—Now playing: Double Blind by Tyla ✫
The door clicked shut behind her as Cleo left her classroom.
Ready to head on her way, she fixed the wool sweater constantly falling off her shoulder. She had a yellow and hot pink scarf around her neck, matching her arm warmers, and a jean skirt on top of her thick tights.
It was that time of the morning when the warmer lighting of the hallway silently clashed with the pale illumination bleeding through cracks and the clouds covering the sky.
It was ironic in a sense because they looked like wool foam, but wool is meant to keep the cold out and not in.
The windows lining the hallways were covered with that light layer of vapour that could only be noticed if you ran your finger on the glass. Exactly, the first thing you notice as she exited her classroom was the temperature drop.
At this hour of the day, the school was naturally quieter, but given the unusual week, the classrooms were emptier, rid of their most objectively diligent students who were now engaging in special four-or-five-hour-long activities, or, like in Daphne's case, four-day-long experiences.
Even the bathroom was more silent, despite the stalls being empty and the running water as the only audible obstruction.
Cleo's bracelets jangled as she shook her hands in sync before resorting to the paper towels by the entrance. Trashing it, she looked in the mirror one more time, fixing her curls and asking herself why she didn't, in fact, flat-iron her hair at home.
As she exited the bathroom, boots almost chunky on the tiles, she checked the time on her phone. Fifteen to nine, ten minutes away from the next class and a moment away from when Daphne's bus would take off to the ski town.
Without consciously thinking about it, she paused, head snapping to the windows on her right. Her eyes began scanning the area, feet carrying her forward to move past the obstruction and finally have a clear view of the parking lot.
It was there, the bus. They were there, standing in front of the open trunk. She was right there too, trying to escape her boyfriend.
Their voices were barely audible from behind the frosted glass. The snow piled in corners had turned into rigid or dirty heaps, and the cold thinned sound waves into slim lines, barely registering, barely vibrating eardrums.
Cleo's hips stopped against the window seal, arms crossed and eyes silently watching, glazing over like the spot she previously cleared on the glass.
She recognised Daphne's grandfather's truck driving out of the district, brake lights turning red before he disappeared into town.
Daphne was thrashing around, trying to squirm out of Taehyung’s arms when he picked her up for seemingly no reason. Asher was laughing, standing by Jimin and Adrielle’s side.
If only Cleo had her priorities set right, she'd be right there among them. If she had her emotions sorted out, she wouldn't be feeling like someone had rid her of her organs as she watched them from the window.
But Cleo has been feeling like her stomach had digested her insides for a long time now.
Her bracelets jingled as she proceeded to class, creating distance between herself and the windows. She pushed a few stubborn curls behind her ear, exposing earrings before that same hand turned the handle and opened the door.
Along with a handful of other desks, Daphne's was unoccupied, chair now carrying Cleo's backpack and desk holding an agenda and a few pens left uncapped.
Mr Keeley's monotone voice worked as a depressing soundtrack to her thoughts as her cheek puffed against the heel of her palm.
Her textbook was open, symbolic rather than useful, and so was her notebook. She played with the edges of the Post-it notes, mind completely disassociated from the class. She had taken them from a new pack back at home, and she also remembered when she'd bought it.
Early September, a week before school, she and Daphne had gone shopping for school supplies. Daphne also had a pack, but it was a safe bet that she had already used them all up. Cleo herself was copying her study technique to get through this week and pass her exams by the end of February.
If she focused hard enough, she could imagine not just Daphne sitting next to her, but her scent, that blend of sweetened chemicals belonging to store perfumes and the more natural essence of her peony-scented shampoo.
If she stared at the chair hard enough, her mind would make her see the butterfly hair pin on the back of her head or the black rubber band Daphne always used to hold her hair back when she had to look ahead and write.
If she squinted, she could picture Daphne's hands, how she always played the pen between her fingers, sometimes keeping a cap between her lips, or tapping mindlessly on her notebook.
The last time she'd seen her, she'd removed her nail polish, leaving them natural, the nails stopping a few centimetres past her fingertips.
Daphne's golden rings decorated her hands, a stark contrast to the peculiar ones Cleo loved wearing.
Instead, all she could see was her own hands, fingers picking through the arm warmers to reveal the uneven edges born from her bed habits, the dry coral corners around the nails from biting at her cuticles, and the polish peeling off from time—greens and pinks cracking to reveal the natural, blushed nude shade of the plate underneath.
Nick and James were playing on their phones, using their pencil cases as shields, but everyone knew Mr Keeley was well aware of what they were doing. He just didn't care enough to call them out every single time.
Truly, if she tried hard enough, Cleo could picture Daphne habitually reaching for her device to check the time or reply to a text. But the more she tried, the more her mind played nasty pranks on her, letting her only picture her own hands as she went through her gallery on Monday.
She didn't even need to try; Cleo could simply close her eyes and see Daphne's face as they fought that day. The look of disappointment stung harder than Cole's or her father's.
She hadn't forgotten Daphne's eyes when she'd seen her with Jungkook at the winter prom outside the hall.
They looked downturned, ghostly, light like piano notes blowing in the air, but when they'd found her, they landed heavy, like fingers made of metal dropping onto the keys and pushing out the notes like a painful cough.
And all Cleo could do was look away and ignore them despite the loud melody echoing in her mind like the ringing pain of blunt force trauma to the head.
Daphne didn't tell her anything, didn't ask her if it was worth it, if she were that easy, if Jungkook really mattered that much, and not addressing it felt worse to Cleo, as though after slamming her hands on a piano keys, Daphne forced her to listen to the sound, let it travel in the air and slowly fade into silence that would make her realise just how loud and wrong she'd been.
Daphne's brown eyes seemed to have turned to stone, cold, freezing, like standing in a field with nothing around for the biting wind to blow past and hug you. Silent and loud.
One thing Cleo had in common with Daphne was hating the cold, and those rigid brown eyes had dragged on her body like a blow of breeze on her back, nails pulling and peeling the skin off.
It felt revealing, painfully and inescapably so, and Cleo wasn't used to that.
But on Monday, they became wet stones, glittering in a way that wasn’t bright of its own nature, just a reflection, a consequence.
“Cleo, I know it sounds harsh as fuck, but truly, do you know what Jungkook's intentions are? Do you really know him? You might be sparring right now only for him not to match your energy, and maybe we'll end up siding with Avyanna.”
“You need to know what you're fighting for.”
She sounded so confident, exactly like someone who knew it all—all about her, all about Jungkook, and all about who they used to be.
And it was making Cleo restless.
Daphne's words were like dripping gold to Cleo, words pronounced by someone she wished was her sister by birth, someone whose life she'd turned into a standard, a bucket list to try and complete every day.
Perfect grades, stable family, stunning looks, beautiful body, handsome boyfriend, and popular friends, even before Taehyung, because Cleo was the face of the school's volleyball team, and Nick, James, and Asher were all remarkable players, hardly ever benched.
Even the threat to her relationship wasn't that much threatening anymore; her boyfriend's friends all loved her and would certainly spoil her at a birthday party, and now she was off to a ski resort to enjoy her life.
The standard Cleo could only try measuring herself with.
Daphne had accomplished all this just within months. Cleo had been here since birth and had been running in circles around square one.
She reached for her phone, moving the pencil case to cover herself.
Her lock screen was a FaceTime call screenshot. She was in a smaller frame, hand up in a half heart. Daphne was in the bigger frame, smiling and completing the shape.
Cleo put her hair pin in and scrolled past it to go onto Instagram. Her homepage was pretty similar, a celebrity post topped by a row of updated stories: Jimin, Asher, Avyanna, and anyone else she followed.
But Cleo went to her search bar because Adrielle is the kind of girl who posts twice a month under normal circumstances—a post and a story. She wasn’t that active on her spam account either.
Three highlights—herself, friends, and travels. One take at her beauty, and the follower count immediately made sense. She posted mainly herself, a little of Avyanna, and even littler about her guy friends.
Her spam account was less filtered—casual mirror selfies, motion blurred pictures, or snaps taken unannounced.
She did have a few pictures with Taehyung, but again, it wasn't anything that even Cleo's speculative mind could label as suspicious or bothersome.
So, by default, Daphne would obviously see nothing wrong with it as well.
In a sense, though, Adrielle and Daphne were similar. Pretty ironic, pretty funny, but they were similar.
Cleo was there watching as Daphne's Instagram account changed, welcoming different sides of her, new people.
Daphne had around the same amount of posts as Adrielle, but unlike her, Daphne was a bit less filtered, less mystical.
She still had the looks that made her feel unreachable in a sense, but she shared more about her hobbies.
Four highlights—herself, friends, travels, and boyfriend, the same way Taehyung had one dedicated to her.
The names were interesting—theflower, probably a reference to her own name, theflowerbed, nature, and finally thebutterfly.
There was probably some insider knowledge that Cleo wasn't privy to that led to such names.
There was something about them that made outsiders feel out of place, like you've been living life the wrong way.
Taehyung’s account was similar to Daphne’s. Unlike Adrielle, he had more pictures showing his friends, but nothing as compromising as Jungkook and Avyanna.
Cleo knew it was to be blamed on the kind of people that they were, but she’d rather be safe than sorry.
Everyone around her was moving, and up until now, she believed to be part of the bunch as well, only to realise she was running alone while her mates were speeding by in a car.
Jimin’s account was very similar to Adrielle’s—a mixture of careful poses and casual pictures. Nothing compromising, nothing that could have anyone hinting at something or creating rumours around him and his girl friends.
It was funny, but the same could be said about Jungkook’s main profile, but the problem came with the spam account.
Everything was naturally less filtered, but knowing who he was, one look at it, and you could tell that this was the true representation of his person—just as it was the hot spot for Cleo’s imagination to run wild.
The pictures were all about having fun with friends, partying, getting blackout drunk at three in the morning, playing around like you don't have any societal obligations, and just being unserious, living out your youthful years before the responsibilities of adulthood knocked on the door.
It was clear as day, right there in the eye, and it shouldn’t surprise her that this part of his online persona would show his friends, all his friends.
Avyanna would be there just as Taehyung, Adrielle, and Jimin would be, and yet, whenever Cleo saw that familiar black, straight and long hair, she always inched closer to the edge of the seat, pupils expanding like a magnifying lens just to inspect, look for evidence—or plant some.
Among his most recent posts was a picture he’d taken presumably from his car, and it was focused on Avyanna, who had slid off the passenger seat, remaining stuck between the front and the seat—feet and arms up while her butt touched the car floor.
An objectively funny picture. In fact, Cleo could imagine her own friends taking a picture of her in such a position if she were in the same situation.
The caption read ‘I’m a good driver. It’s just Anna’.
Exactly… it was just her.
Avyanna was too present in his grid, and Cleo couldn’t help biting off the skin on her lips as she scrolled through the account, studying it like a forensic scientist.
There were many pictures of Taehyung and Jimin as well, but Avyanna was always there in the background somehow, a watermark.
She was doing a handstand on a coffee table in one, and she was presumably passed out drunk in another. There were also group photos, trios, and they always showed Jungkook, Avyanna, and a third person that could change.
One was with Chelsea, and the next was with Taehyung. They were clearly at a party in both selfies; whether it was low-level or high-level, nobody was certain, but they were at a party, and it was only natural that, out of everyone in the friend group, Avyanna would be there.
But she was everywhere, in Jungkook’s life, his online profiles, James’s life, and Cleo’s mind.
Everywhere.
The oldest post made her scoff to herself, wondering what Daphne would say if she showed her the picture.
Had she seen it herself? Had she ignored it? Or was she still treading through the waters mindlessly without checking for alligators that could bite her ankles?
In the picture, Jungkook and Avyanna were presumably at the beach—he was shirtless, and she, in a tank top. The caption read ‘My hands are sweaty’ to explain why he was rubbing them on Avyanna’s face, both smiling while she had hers on his chest to push him away.
Cleo tried to imagine who had taken the picture and if, in their hearts of hearts, they believed that it looked like they were just platonic friends.
When she presented all this to Daphne, all Daphne could tell her, all Daphne could do was make her feel like she was going crazy.
She wasn't expecting blind support, fully aware that Daphne was an analytical person, needing absolute proof beyond reasonable doubt before fully agreeing or not.
But the issue was sensitive, and Jungkook was becoming a weed Cleo was starting to classify with the rest of the grass in her flower garden, watching as the sun cast bright rays on it.
She turned off her phone, glancing in Nick and James's direction to find them giggling and still busy playing games together.
She considered joining them, but her mind was so distracted she knew after one match she'd click off, and that would tick them off somehow because she never clicks off after a single match.
Avyanna and Jungkook were in the next-door classroom, following whatever class they were having, and there was a high chance they were sitting next to each other.
Daphne, on the other hand, was steadily heading to a four-day-long experience of just joy, elation, excitement, and probably everything that comes with spending four uninterrupted days away from your parents at a lavish ski resort with your boyfriend and friends.
Her absence, their presence, Cleo's misery.
—Now playing: Bed by The Neighbourhood ✫
The dirty snow on Daphne's boots squelched with each step she took, the brown colour born from the numerous people inhabiting or visiting the ski town.
The buildings lining the road almost certainly housed shops at ground level and homes on the higher floors. One moment they were made with mismatched grey bricks, and the next they were entirely built with wooden panels, columns, beams, and roofs all made to follow the same colour scheme.
From Daphne's position, the sky merged with the ground into a single white blanket of bright cold and biting wind blowing wherever buildings weren't close enough to warm each other up.
Streetlights, benches, plants, roofs, and cars were all covered in a snowy coat like the fur on Adrielle's jacket and the wool of Daphne's scarf.
The mountains, so visible on their way coming, were lost somewhere in the white fog and the blinding brightness of the sky, and now the only thing warming up this ski town was its people.
It hadn't been even half an hour since they'd set off to explore the town and its shops, but Daphne could recall hearing at least four different languages fade past her into the hug of the town.
Not all the lights were in use, now dim under the coat of snow, but they were mostly in oranges and yellows, desperately trying to emulate the warm colours of heat—sun, fireplace, hot teas and chocolates, and wool blankets.
She'd lost count of how many times Taehyung had pinched her cheeks or flicked her nose at every chance he got, and at first she thought he was just looking for attention or simply being clingy, until he teased her for being red in the face.
"You're making your scarf feel shy, Lauri."
That earned him a blow to the shoulder, which earned her a series of giggles she couldn't help smiling to.
By the 40-minute mark, their tour was a few strolls away from ending. They'd walked past several food and artisan stands, brushing past souvenirs, handmade jewellery, and bag stalls, to then stumble upon rows of shops which went from simply selling balls of wool to full-fledged Ralph Lauren stores.
Jimin bought a sweater from there, claiming that he'd been waiting for the opportunity for months. Malakai got himself a pair of trousers. They all made purchases. Nathan from Tommy Hilfiger, Adrielle from Burberry, Taehyung and Nathan, again, got new jeans from a 90s vintage store, and the prices had made Daphne and Asher's eyes grow dry.
The only material purchase Daphne made was at a small store, trinkets again. She'd visited it with Taehyung when they'd briefly broken apart from the group, and what she bought was just an old-fashioned chunky pen with a floral design on its body.
She'd already received a Christmas gift anyway, and more were to come by the end of the week with her birthday.
Watching them make those purchases was as marvellous as attending a circus show for Daphne.
The casual walk and the nonchalant attitude they moved around with was astonishing. For them, it was just another Tuesday. To her, it was like shopping for Christmas and looking for that one expensive thing the celebrations permitted you to buy.
Hearing Taehyung and Nathan teasing Jimin about his numerous Ralph Lauren polos and sweaters was like feeling a new vibration through her eardrums, something different from common sound.
Checking the price tag on Adrielle's purchase just to realise it was a just cashmere scarf made her actually taste her gasp.
Watching Nathan spend money at Tommy Hilfiger for jeans and then proceed to buy another pair, limited edition, at a vintage shop made her feet grow sweaty in her boots.
And Malakai was also in the equation, disappearing one moment to return the next with a shopping bag whose name was rather too known it emptied the chest or too niche it stung.
The only purchase they all made without Daphne seeing all the cash she had on her, written on a price tag, was hot chocolate and churros. But even that was somehow enlightening because watching Adrielle and Nathan struggle to get coins with a credit card ready in the next pocket of their wallets was part of a story she once believed was solely fictional.
—Now playing: Come On Eileen by Dexys Midnight RUnners ✫
Returning to the resort shouldn't have felt as it did, but it did. Yes, it was the second time entering, but the merge of cosiness and grandeur knocked the breath out of her as if the warmth actually had arms to tightly hug her with.
As they had hoped for—Jimin and Nathan really—there weren't teachers at the door to inspect them like metal detectors, or a cop in this case. So, like idiots, they ran upstairs, thanking Adrielle, who had offered to go in first to see if the coast was clear.
Their feet thudded like drums on the stairs, somehow even louder as they ran down the hallway to their bedrooms.
When Daphne walked into hers, the sound welcoming her was Chantel and Vera's high-pitched giggles as they played card games together.
"Hey girls," she sighed, taking her shoes off towards something more comfortable. "How have you been holding up?"
"Playing all the card games Grandpa Vera knows."
"Okay," she flicked her forehead.
"Ouch!"
"Not only did you call me old, but also a man—"
"Your knowledge of card games reminds me of my abuelito."
Chantel poked her tongue out while Vera rolled her eyes, looking at Daphne but still pointing at Chantel.
"What?" She slapped her hand away.
"Oh, you did not just..." Vera dramatically gasped. "Argh, pendejo!"
Chantel's grin turned into a wicked smirk, eyes filled with pride when she turned to Daphne.
"I taught her that word," she winked.
"I'm here entertaining you, and you choose to compare me to your abuelito?"
"Mi abuelito es perfecto, cariño. No hay nada de qué preocuparse."
"Ah, I'm going to smother you in your fucking sleep."
Daphne laughed from a distance, tying her hair in a loose low ponytail and pushing the stubborn strands behind her ears.
Going out wasn't part of the plan until the following day, so she took herself to the walk-in closet to get out of her jeans. Besides, the dirty melted snow on the road had left wet patches on the back buttons.
When she walked back out, now wearing the wool sweatpants she had bought with her mum, the room welcomed two different ecosystems.
Vera and Chantel tickling each other to death on the left, and Angel getting out of her earrings on the right.
With the senses overstimulated by the itchy wool of her pants, Daphne quickly gathered her hair in a better ponytail, groaning at the flying strands but too tired to really do something about them.
"You guys ain't coming down to the lounge?"
"I wish," Vera screamed, emerging from Chantel's hug like an ostrich poking its head out of a hole. "Chantel won't stop talking about the boys from the other school. It makes my ears bleed."
"Daph, one of them was at the winter prom, and sparks flew between us."
"If by sparks you mean creepily ogling at him from the dark corners of the room..."
"That's called being shy, cautious, and patiently waiting for the right moment."
"That's called being a pussy."
"I'll be downstairs, yeah?" Daphne interrupted them, smiling. "Don't kill each other."
And as she closed the door, all she heard were the girls replying in unison, "Don't count on it."
—Now playing: Romantic Lover by Eyedress ✫
The itch of the wool warmed her legs with each step she took, slippers softly grating under hardwood.
The hallway was relatively quiet, welcoming the muffled noise spilling from nearby spaces, such as the bedrooms, the restaurant, but most especially the lounge area.
Just like them, moments prior, the world outside flowed like a river along the main road to the winter market. The other visitors went about their day eating, resting, playing, returning from the slopes or lounging in their bedrooms, while the workers tended to them and the resort.
Daphne turned to her right, walking into the louder part of the ground floor. She recognised a few teachers sitting in a booth and talking, other clients taking turns at the pool table, and at last, Taehyung, lying on the couch and looking into the fireplace.
She chuckled to herself, letting her feet lead the way.
"Well, you gonna make me some space or not?"
Taehyung, who had been lying with his chest against the sofa, peered up at the sound of a voice. He smiled and turned around on his back.
"Come on," he urged, arms open. She gladly complied, resting her head on his chest, then sneaking her hand under his body for a hug.
"So," he sighed comfortably, his hand quick to start playing with her hair. "Do you like the place?"
She chuckled, the vibration going from her body to his.
"Like?” A scoff. “That's an understatement."
"Well, wow, I'm relieved. And there's more still."
"More?" She looked up, eyes leaving the fireplace she'd been gazing at. He nodded.
"There's a gym on the top floor." His voice was soft, reverberating through his chest. His fingers combed through her hair, gracing her back and coming back up.
"Nathan seems to have forgotten, but I know he'll remember, at least, by the morning and drag me and Jimin for some morning workout."
She giggled, resting her chin on her hand flat on his chest. "He's indeed going to kill you, isn't he?"
He chuckled. "But— There's a but. There's a basement here—"
"Mmm."
"And guess what's there?"
"I suck at guessing, just spit it out."
"A pool—warm water, showers, and a jacuzzi—"
"Ja- what?" Her eyes went wide. "You for real?"
"Toothpaste, this is my fifth time here with school, probably tenth with my friends—"
"You did not—" she slapped his chest "—call me Toothpaste—"
"I think I did actually." Another slap.
"And you even standing on it?"
"Hello, hello, lovebirds."
“Jimin, why are you walking like a fucking Targaryen?”
Daphne giggled, but Taehyung’s words only broadened their friend's shoulders.
“Now,” he theatrically paused by the couch, “my blonde hair suggests maybe a Lannister.”
Daphne scoffed, hands pinned on the couch to look up without breaking her neck. “You'd rather be a Lannister than a Targaryen?”
She laughed with Taehyung, returning her head on his chest again.
“I'd always choose dragons—”
“You know,” Jimin resumed, tone still theatrical, “if I really had to choose, I'd be a Stark. But—” Daphne and Taehyung groaned together as Jimin got comfortable on them, hair getting on Daphne's face as he used her back as a mattress. “I'd rather not be part of the Game of Thrones—”
“I'd rather you got off us before you smothered us to death—”
“Oh, but I'm a dainty, little prin—”
“Jimin!”
—Now playing: Bewitch Me More by Sparklyel ✫
Adrielle heaved a sigh of relief the moment she pulled down her tights. Despite its thickened material, the cold had bit through and almost frozen her legs. Now free of the tights, her nails delicately ran on her skin, scratching everywhere the heat itched.
She could still hear Daphne's classmates laughing and screaming obnoxiously loudly from the bedroom. Sheila was in her bed, probably struggling to read in the chaos, and Jane, the girl sleeping next to Adrielle, was not in the room.
The sweatpants Adrielle’d reached for were teal—a pass-me-down from her mother. She pulled on the strings and tied them, and for a brief moment, as she looked for another top, the screaming mellowed, and there was no need to check the girls: the door clicking closed was enough.
Her first instinct was to check who it was—maybe it’d be a teacher, Serena, or a roommate—but she caught herself, going through her bags again, only for three sharp knocks on the door to rattle the room.
“Elle?”
Malakai was standing at the door with his head poking into the closet.
“You busy?”
“Oh, hi Malakai. No, I was just… just getting changed.”
“Oh, yeah, um, all right. No, I just I just wanted to give you this.” He handed her a small green paper bag. “Bought it when we were out. I hope you like it.”
“Oh,” she paused, collecting the gift with mild confusion and slowly peeking into the bag. “Thank you.” She gazed up, finding him awkwardly standing by the door, hands probably touching each other behind his back.
“You didn't have to,” she began, sliding onto the plush white carpet and crossing her legs. As though her words had switched something in him, he finally moved, sitting next to her, arms keeping his knees close to his chest.
“I didn't know what shade you'd like, so,” he tried shrugging the awkwardness off, “I bought multiple to give you options.”
“Oh, wow, Malakai,” she gave him a small smile, “you absolutely didn't have to, but I'm really grateful.
He nodded, watching as she emptied the bag on the carpet to find five different shades of lip gloss.
“Oh my god, Kai,” she sharply inhaled, looking at him one moment and at the gift the next. “These shades are beautiful.”
Her hand almost instinctively reached for the rosy peach one first, turning it in her hand to let the small glitters catch the soft light of the closet.
“I have to try them. Give me a moment.”
She quickly walked on her knees, retrieving her hand mirror from her vanity purse and returning next to him. Malakai, all this while, was studying every expression on her face, awaiting her final say as if it were a verdict.
She slowly uncapped the lip gloss, watching it glimmer in the light before finally applying it on her lips.
“Ooh,” she cooed, carefully brushing the shade, “it’s beautiful.”
“Yeah?” His voice was a little shaky, so he tried clearing his throat. “You really like it.”
“I love it, Kai.” She turned to look at him, noticing that he’d now tucked his feet under his butt. She chuckled to herself. “I think I have blush in this exact shade.”
“That’s why you went for that one first?” he softly laughed, desperate to say something before the silence would combust him into the ether.
She nodded, eyes back on the hand mirror to apply some more. “Yeah, my favourite colour’s blue, and blues and oranges go well together. Complementary colours.”
He scoffed, crossing his legs and leaning back on his arms. “Wow.”
“What?” She paused, capping the lip gloss and reaching for a makeup pad. “You didn’t know?”
“No, like, I… Yeah, I did, but don’t think about complementarity when creating colour combos.”
“Mmm,” she slowly nodded, reaching for the next one—sharp baby pink. “Well, I do.”
He didn’t reply to that, and Adrielle didn’t know if she’d been too dismissive or if he was just watching her apply the new lip gloss.
“When I say blue and orange, though,” she looked at him, tilting her head a few degrees to study his face, “I don’t mean like the classic bright blue and orange. I’m talking in shades. My fave shade of blue is navy.”
He chuckled, “Yeah, I could tell. You always have it on you somehow.”
She sealed her lips, watching the new colour come to life in the mirror.
“Yes, I do.” Her voice automatically turned a bit cold as she inspected the lip gloss on herself. “Can’t do without it.”
The silence was itching like heat under Malakai’s sweater, and he found himself pulling on the collar without noticing. Ironically so, her ice tone was making him sweat.
She looked at him again, eyes wide enough with curiosity and a smile across her lips. He couldn’t catch the exact moment he’d gulped.
“You noticed?” Tone bright again as she capped the second lip gloss.
“Yeah, yeah,” he coughed out a soft laugh, scratching the back of his neck. “You also have it on your earrings.”
“Oh,” she chuckled, “yeah, my nanny gifted them to me three years ago. And my mum,” she paused as she applied the third one—bright coral, “hates that I prefer them over the sapphire jewels she got me for my 18th last year, which—” eyes back on him, “—don’t get me wrong. I’m not some spoiled brat. They’re absolutely stunning, but they’re very bright, not…”
“Not navy blue, yeah, I get it.”
“Exactly.” She sighed, returning her focus to the hand mirror. “Ooh, this one’s also really cute— What do you think?”
She turned to him, a small smile across her glittering lips. She’d raised her shoulder just enough to poke her cheek in a casual pose.
Malakai was still resting on his arms, but he could’ve sworn he’d felt his muscles turn into mush for a split second. So scared, he sat up, rubbing his now sweaty hands on his knees.
“So?” she urged him, her smile growing by just a fraction. “Does it look good on me?”
“Anything does.” And he coughed immediately after, clearing his throat multiple times and looking elsewhere.
He missed the sound of her chuckle. It was tiny, breathy, almost hidden as she capped the lip gloss, reaching for another makeup pad to remove it.
“No, wait!” His hand found her forearm, and she looked down to where he touched her. “I–”
He coughed again, removing himself from her as though she was made of fire—or better, ice.
“I— Can I take a photo…? Of you, I mean?” Where he’d just been scratching his neck burned, and he was certain to have left a mark.
“A photo?” She looked him in the eye. “Of me?”
The blues of her irises were blocking his airways like water and freezing his muscles like ice, and he found himself nodding in reply after four counted seconds of silence.
“Can I?” He recounted, and she just shrugged, leaving the lip gloss and the hand mirror on the carpet.
“Go on.”
“Oh, okay.” He quickly and messily patted his pockets, looking for his phone and almost had it flying out of his hands when he eventually found it.
“Okay, okay,” he said through his breath in whispers.
“How should I pause?” But he froze again, now looking at her eyes through the camera lens. She still had a small smile on her lips, hands gathered in front of her as she patiently waited for his malfunctioning brain.
“Kai?—”
“Yeah? Yeah, yeah, I’m here. Have it right here, ready— You can— Pose however you like. You look good anyway.”
“Okay.” Her voice was small. She tucked her feet on her butt, hands now on her knees. Again her shoulder came up just a little bit, poking her cheek, and making her smile so soft it could melt his phone.
His thumb took the picture and saved it in his gallery. His brain now had a snapshot he’d never forget, like staring straight into a flashlight but watching it never fade away.
“Wanna take another one?” Her voice broke the same ice she was building, and his muscles finally melted back into function.
“Yeah, erm, um, you could—” he sat on his heels, “just do your thing while I document it.”
“Oh,” she chuckled, tucking her hair behind her ear. “Okay then. I don’t mind.”
—Now playing: So Far So Fake by Pierce The Veil ✫
Avyanna didn’t know exactly what about Jungkook’s room had fogged her mind with inhumane boredom.
The colours were dim, yes—grey walls, dark flooring and bedsheets—the gloomy light of the day wasn’t helping much, and even his white curtains couldn’t reflect the illumination enough to will her to keep her eyes open.
Moreover, pairing such an environment with the activity they’d chosen to do, the plan for the week, it was only natural that she needed something more to stimulate her senses, keep her neurons active.
Studying wasn’t Avyanna’s forte, grown accustomed to depending on Adrielle or Jimin to whisper the answers to her during tests. But this week was that one time in the year she actually had to sit down and do things by herself, since the same friends she was relying on had won their tickets to mountain paradise for four days.
She revisited this thought many times as her cheek drooled on her hand, huffs and puffs rhythmically escaping her lips, and fingers turning the blue pen without actually writing with it.
Jungkook was sitting at his desk actually studying, and the more she looked at him, the more her neurons fried. It was so unusual that her brain just couldn’t process it.
Or maybe she was just exaggerating because, as she lay prone on his bed, feet crossed and dangling in the air, she couldn’t focus on studying since her eyes wouldn’t get off his form, his shoulder blades cutting sharply through the material of his sleeveless shirt.
Besides, she didn’t think they’d actually study while in his bedroom, especially with no one supposedly at home.
And all it took to cut the boring chain of events with a pair of scissors was a mere creative suggestion: strip-study—every wrong answer for a piece of clothing, her rules. And she was shameless with it because who didn’t know what the domain of a rational function was?
She knew it, but also knew that she wanted him naked in three minutes flat.
There was something about how he looked under her that stimulated something almost primal in her, something she wished to bite or would bite her.
Her hands remained flat on the hard planes of his chest, trying to maintain a steady pace and fuck through the pleasure shooting blinding arrows to her brain.
Talk about foggy boredom.
Her dark hair slipped past her shoulders, falling past her collarbones and covering her chest. Her black acrylic nails were digging rosy crescents into his flesh, and her skin was starting to bruise where he was holding her down from.
“Fuck,” she giggled when he bucked his hips up unannounced and made her dart forward. “A heads-up, no?— Ah! Kook!”
He didn’t reply to anything she was saying, any joke she was about to crack, or any provocation about to spill past her lips. His eyes were looking at where their bodies connected as he rammed into her harder with each thrust.
Her hands reached for his biceps, holding back from completely crashing against him. The bed was creaking under the weight of his harsh movements, and low moans were slipping past the ragged breathing the closer he got to the edge.
Avyanna’s hands sank into his pillow on each side of his head, moans, hisses, and profanities escaping her with each thrust.
“Oh, my fucking good, Kook,” she shakily laughed, body slowly crashing down until she was fully lying on top of him.
“Fuck, don’t stop!” With her head in the crook of his neck, her voice was muffled, her breath ran on his skin in delicate touches, and her hair mindlessly scattered across his face.
But he didn’t mind it, moving his hands under the curve of her ass to hoist her up and dig his heels into his mattress.
“Fuck,” he rasped, drawing a long hiss before biting down on his lips. “I’m gonna fucking cum.”
“You better not fucking cum before me.” Her warning voice was still muffled, shaky and broken by the panting. It made him laugh, hand landing on her ass for a spank.
“What do you take me for, huh?”
She was about to giggle before the pleasure struck another arrow to her brain, making her body go still.
“Oh, fuck, Kook. You’re gonna make me cum,” she whined. “You’re gonna make me fucking cum.”
Her moans grew louder with the second, and his lips went in a straight line, sealed tight and eyebrows deeply furrowed to shield his mind from the pleasure banging at his head.
“Fuck.” Avyanna’s voice melted before her body started convulsing on top of him, right hand pulling on his hair as she hit her orgasm.
A few thrusts later, and he was coming undone inside her, grunting as he bucked his hips a few times more.
“Fucking Christ,” he rasped, breathing hard and pushing his hair back. “Thank god the plan was to study, huh?”
Avyanna giggled, body jolting and face still close to his neck. “Do you find this as boring?”
He shrugged, both still not moving. “Maybe not as necessary—”
She hit his shoulder, now resting on her elbows to look at him. “You’ve had a stick up your ass for some time now. I’m doing you a favour—”
“Or maybe yourself—”
Muffled noise broke into the room from the hallway. Their eyes locked in a subtle fear before he looked at the door, hating and loving that they’d played some music in the background.
The sound didn’t repeat itself, and he allowed himself a half sigh of relief as he pinched between his eyebrows.
“Come on,” he tapped her waist, “get off.”
“Pfft!” She sat up, pushing her hair off her chest. “Got spooked?”
“By what?” He frowned, using his elbows to sit up.
“Your dogs?” She chuckled, feeling him go soft inside her. “Or maybe your baby brother—”
He huffed and threw his head back.
“Maybe Diana too.” She shrugged, that signature evil smirk across her lips. “They’re always hanging out together.”
“Okay, now,” he rolled his eyes, “get off me—”
“You think they don’t already know?” She gave him a good look, cocking her head to the side to see any sign of hesitation.
“Trust me,” she bit her lip to hold back from giggling any longer. With her hands on his shoulders, she moved in his lap, hoisting her hips high but not enough to have him slip out, and naturally she studied every minuscule reaction of his.
“They already know,” she rasped against his ear, softly cackling when he threw his head back to keep some distance.
“Yeah, cool, okay?” He met her eyes. “Very cool. They know, they might not know. Regardless, it’s not worth the risk—”
“What risk?” she chuckled, confused.
“What risk?” His eyebrow arched in something akin to disappointment and bewilderment. “Anna, just last year, someone aired out our shit to the basketball team, and rumours started going around—”
“Not that around,” she shrugged, pushing her hair behind her shoulder again. “Plus, it was only within the team, which you’re a part of, and that’s why you feel like it travelled the entire town.”
He rolled his eyes, not convinced even in the slightest, and it only amused her more as she leaned back on her arms to take a good look at him— or make him take a good look at her. That smirk was still across her lips.
“Kook,” she nudged his side with her leg, “the school already knows us for being sluts. Trust me that it wouldn’t surprise anyone if this got out—”
“So what?” His frown got impossibly deeper. “I still don’t want it to get out.”
And Avyanna sighed to that, crossing her arms in front of her naked chest and rolling her eyes.
“Anna,” he softened the edges to his tone, “I believe we gon be friends for a long time, maybe even forever—”
“Ooh,” she wiggled her eyebrows, hand mindlessly cupping her left boob, “getting cheesy on me?”
“Anna.” He groaned, throwing his head back, and she giggled still.
“What I mean to say is that I will eventually find someone, and I don’t want our history to ruin anything—”
She scoffed, looking around like they had an audience. “Why would it?”
“Anna, you’re my fucking best friend. Now you tell me how many girls would be comfortable having you around, especially with the lack of boundaries you have, knowing that we fuck?”
“Pff.” She finally got off him, heading straight for the bathroom. “I know what you’re doing there.”
He remained on the bed, confused, and watched her leave, hair falling past the small of her back.
“What am I doing?”
“You’re talking about your baby boo, the team’s libero, Cleo Faulkner!" She evilly laughed, her voice bouncing on the tiled walls of the bathroom.
His body went ice cold, petrified on the bed, and stopped him from cleaning himself.
“You went silent!” She continued, the toilet flushing in the background. “So I’m guessing I’m right, ain’t I Kookie?”
“Do you have to call me like that?” He sighed, dropping on the bed.
“Yep!” She chirped, done washing her hands. “Kookie’s scared that our thing is going to sabotage his other thing with Cleo the sunshine.”
“What the fuck are these nicknames?”
She walked back into the room, leaning against the doorframe still completely naked. “Oh, you won’t distract me this time—”
“You were the one that interrupted our study session—”
“And you’re incredibly naked for someone who just got spooked at the idea of his baby brother walking in on us.”
He frowned again, narrowing his eyes before brushing past her to the bathroom. She watched him like a smirking hawk, uncrossing her arms to go get dressed.
“Kook, you know…” she yelled, making all that he worried about just be in vain, “It’s not really my fault if she feels threatened by me, you know?”
He paused, half a second away from throwing the tissue in the toilet.
“Yeah, not my fault. Like,” she pulled her underwear past the curve of her butt, “I get it, I’m hot, you’re hot, explosive combo, but it’s not up to me. It’s actually kinda up to you.”
He thought he flushed the toilet too late when he heard her next words, frowning as he washed his hands.
“Yeah, ‘cause you are the one who’s supposed to reassure her so nothing like that happens—”
“There goes our humble queen,” he scoffed, returning to the bedroom.
“I was never humble, so don’t put words in my mouth.” She sighed, now buttoning up her jeans. “Jeon, what I’m trying to say is that, if the rumours eventually get to her, she’ll start hunting for more info because you’re not making feel reassured—”
“She wouldn’t have to if only you knew the boundaries of a friendship—”
“Friendship?” She barked out a laugh. “Kook, our friendship ain’t the classic type, and you know it. It’s only physical to us, but for a little virgin girl like Cleo, it’s scandalous, the centre of unnecessary worries—”
“Anna.” He groaned, putting on his trousers.
“What?” She laughed again, pulling her hair in a ponytail. “Kook, if you want this to end for the good of your… relationship with Cleo, let’s just end it. There’s nothing to worry about. It’s just sex. Plus that would save you the troubles of having to explain when she eventually finds out—”
He scoffed, reaching for his shirt. “You don’t understand what I mean.”
She paused, snickering and shaking her head. “What is there to understand? It’s clear that I’m a threat to whatever the fuck is going on between you and Cleo, so I’m offering you the easy way out. It ain’t rocket science.”
He didn’t reply, just walked straight to the window to open it.
“That’s one thing, but the other thing might be that I’m not the problem. You are. You wanna date Cleo,” she whined to teased, lips in a pout, “want something more emotional than what you’re used to, but you don’t want to do it in the conventional way—”
“Okay, philosopher,” he bitterly chuckled, sinking onto his desk chair.
“You wanna do all that shit without labels, and you know that it ain’t what Cleo wants, so you’re sulking about it—”
“Are you actually giving me advice or just being a bitch about it?”
“Both?” She shrugged. “Being a bitch is my thing—”
“I don’t know how to go about it, how to get out of this—”
“This what?” She leaned against the desk. “Our special friendship or the hell-like limbo stage in you and Cleo’s relationship?”
“We aren’t in a relationship.”
“Exactly, and that’s the reason you guys are never gonna work out.”
“You know what? Fuck it,” he turned to the desk, trying to resume his study. “Fuck it, there’s no point in talking to you.”
“Hey, I actually think I was giving good advice, man.”
“Anna, go back to studying. Thank you for your input.”
She blew him raspberries, returning to the bed. “Scaredy cat.”
—Now playing: I Caught Myself by Paramore ✫
There was a fireplace in the restaurant as well, and Daphne was sitting close to it, just a table away, and not even Asher’s body blocked the heat enough. She’d left her hoodie hanging from her chair, letting herself stay in the thin material of her Henley top.
Next to her, Taehyung and Nathan were laughing at something on the latter’s phone, giggles sounding like hyena screeches. In front of her, Jimin was talking with Malakai, with Adrielle sitting in between them silently eating her risotto.
It was just past eight in the evening, and naturally the restaurant was almost overflowing with clients and waiters going to and fro between the tables.
The space was wide nonetheless, housing booths along the walls, square and long rectangular tables in the inner space. Turning right, Daphne faced Asher and the fireplace in the background. Turning left, she’d meet Taehyung, and looking ahead, she’d not just see Jimin, Malakai and Adrielle, but also the slopes through the wide windows lining the walls.
Every client was living in a different stage, but what really stuck with her was how homely everything looked and felt: some had clearly just left their bedrooms and had masks under their eyes and slippers on as they ate; others had just returned from skiing or touring the town, so their cheeks were still a bit rosy, their noses red, and their jackets hanging from their chairs in a makeshift back padding.
And she was also part of the bunch, wearing slippers, fluffy socks, and casual sweatpants. No one among them was wearing jeans any longer, and even Adrielle had got out of her skirt and off-shoulder top, now dressed in a simpler outfit—a matching teal tracksuit.
All the students were having the same meal—saffron risotto with a side of salad, fish, and lemon to dress it—and they’d been reserved the longer tables, allowing up to fourteen people to sit together.
The teachers were eating separately at the square tables.
The restaurant area was flourishing with the overwhelming scent of freshly made food, a mix of saffron, carrots, tomato, and seasoning. Now that she was actually eating, the smell wasn’t just torturing her stomach from the lounge area anymore.
In the midst of slicing his fish, Asher softly shoved his elbow in her rib, and had he been a stranger to her, she would’ve brushed it off as a mistake.
“So…” he cleared his throat, eyes studying the people around him to moderate his volume accordingly, “what was that this morning?”
Daphne stared at him for exactly two seconds before finally understanding what he was referring to. She scoffed, licking the lemon off her fingers and feeling it almost squeeze her tonsils.
“Don’t know,” she coughed, face scrunched and voice fading with the acidity.
He chuckled, shaking his head and finally splitting the fish into pieces. “It had me reevaluating every theory I’d come up with.”
She bit her lip, amused. “Obviously you’ve already come up with theories—”
“Obviously!” He scoffed, trying to sound offended. “Who do you take me for? Humans are the most interesting thing to study.”
“Creepy much, Ash?” She bit into the piece of fish.
“You do it too, Miss Too-Goody-Shoes” He softly shoved her again. “You’re just better at seeming normal about it.”
“Oh, so you admit you’re abnormal?” Taehyung and Nathan burst into another fit of giggles about whatever was on that phone, the latter’s hand hitting the table. Daphne stared at the silverware, watching it bounce with each blow.
“But in all sincerity, though,” Asher resumed unbothered, “theories or not, wasn’t that weird?”
“Nate, the fuck?” Jimin reprimanded him, unaware of Daphne and Asher’s conversation.
“Yeah, it was kinda weird.” She nodded. “They really don’t like the boy—”
“Especially Taehyung.” Asher’s voice was casual, hands busy cutting the fish into smaller sizes, unaware that his words had made Daphne pause for a heartbeat. “He was like their spokesperson about it.”
“Apparently, the boy is too pushy for his liking. Wish I really knew what he’s talking about.” She shrugged. “But whatever it is, he doesn’t like him at all. When she mentioned he’d be getting on the bus and sitting next to her this morning, he just…”
Asher’s eyebrows raised like a spring. “What did he do?”
She sighed, shoulders dropping in a shrug. “ He basically said that he has no other options than to sit next to her.”
“As in no one fucks with him enough to have him sitting next to them?”
Daphne nodded, reaching for her glass of water. “Pretty much that.”
“Damn.”
“Oh, there’s more, though.” She cleared her throat, taking a spoonful of risotto. “Like on the registration day for this week, yeah?”
“Hmm.” He chewed on his fish.
“They were talking about him again, and even the other ones don’t like him— Like, they told me that Avyanna had compared him to an STD or something—” Asher almost choked on his fish. “I think personality-wise—”
“What? Seriously?” Daphne could see the amusement tugging on the corner of his lips. “You’re not shitting me?”
“Absolutely not. She’d said something about him sounding like chronic pussy dehydration, distorting pH balance, and also sounding like a combo of chlamydia and HIV, if I’m not wrong—”
“Oh, my fucking god,” he laughed, “that’s pretty specific.”
“I mean… It’s Avyanna,” she shrugged. “I don’t think the others would describe him like that.”
“Well… that kind of explains this morning’s conversation.”
Daphne dropped her fork, cleaning the corner of her mouth with the paper towel. Nathan and Taehyung were still going at it next to her while Adrielle had finally joined Jimin and Malakai’s discussion.
She angled her body toward Asher, discreetly eyeing the others one last time. “You feel like she’s using him?”
Her voice was cautiously soft, but also insecure. Asher instantly read her body language, leaving his fork as well to reach for the glass of water.
Daphne impatiently waited for him to swallow and wipe his mouth, still monitoring her surroundings.
“So?” He cleared his throat again, facing her.
“In all honesty…?” He hissed. “I really didn’t picture her being that kind of person—”
“Exactly.” Her body heaved a sigh of relief, facing forward again. “I’m thinking the same.”
“Yeah, but,” he inched closer to the edge of his seat, “we’re still humans at the end of the day, and if someone needs to do something shitty, it’s going to be us.”
“So…” she squinted, “you do think that she might be using him.”
He shrugged, throwing a small piece of fish in his mouth. “I wouldn’t put it past her.”
Daphne’s fork remained suspended, hovering over the risotto. “So you do think she’s that kind of person?”
“Not really, as I’ve just told you, but they did meet when she was, like, having a moment at the winter prom.”
Daphne frowned, completely leaving her fork in the plate. “Having a moment? What do you mean?”
“Oh well.” He chuckled, stretching against the chair. “While you and your hubby were on your honeymoon, scurrying off to the corners of the earth to Woo-Hoo—”
Daphne rolled her eyes, pushing her knees onto her seat.
“She wasn’t particularly enjoying the party—”
“Don’t tell me you’re going down the Cleo rabbit hole about her planning to break me and Tae off.”
“Hah!” Asher laughed. “No, no, no. That’s a topic for another day, but she wasn’t enjoying that night at all; at least, that’s what her face said when she stormed out of the hall.”
Daphne slouched against her seat, mouth opening and closing without actually speaking. “You’re some crazy observer, aren’t you?”
He winked, eyebrows dancing over his eyes. “It’s a talent.”
“Okay, but,” she scoffed, rolling her eyes again and crossing her arms, “how does he come into play?”
“They met at the party. She was presumably upset, and he uplifted her mood. A good exchange—”
“Oh, so you mean to tell me that because she was…” she paused, gesturing around to find a word, “sad…”
“Mh-hmm…?”
“And he was happy…er, she’s using him?”
Asher bit his lip, hissing and rubbing his nose. “Well, if you put it like that…”
Daphne sighed, facing forward again. Taehyung and Nathan had settled down, but were still talking to each other; Malakai was whispering in Adrielle’s ear, and Jimin was on his phone.
“But!” Asher recalled her attention. “You mustn’t forget that they’re her closest friends, spend more time around her, and therefore, can take a closer look at her life.”
“Mmm,” she nodded, “that’s also another thing—”
“If you think your TaeTae is jealous because he could, for some absurd reason, like her, you’re thinking wrong—”
“I’m not absolutely thinking that,” she coughed out a laugh. Asher just slowly nodded.
“Okay then, if you say so.” The tone made Daphne roll her eyes, toying with the piece of fish on her plate. “But keep in mind, and I can say this because I was born here and basically watched them grow up, if he’d ever liked her, he would’ve dated her a long time ago. Instead, he dated other girls, never her and not even Avyanna. So you have nothing to worry about.”
Daphne nervously bit her lip, nodding with her eyes still on the fish.
“I’m not worried,” she shrugged, finally taking the piece into her mouth.
“Yeah, and I’m the wizard of Oz—”
“Seriously. Please stop.”
“Gosh,” he chuckled, hands up in surrender, “forgive me.”
“Guys!” Jimin’s voice loudly cracked the moment like ice. “Kook and Anna are on the phone. Say hi!”
—Now playing: Misery Business by Paramore ✫
That seemed enough to unify everyone’s attention. Jimin turned his phone, moving it from left to right to capture everyone, but Daphne could swear her blood flow jammed, freezing up somewhere along the way and turning her ducts into stone.
She squinted, reminding herself to engage her facial muscles and muster a smile, and leaned closer, hand casually waving to greet them.
She didn’t know where they were, besides the phone was so up close their face took the whole frame. But Daphne could still tell they were lying on something—a bed, a couch, the carpet, she wasn’t sure—but they were lying on their stomachs.
He was wearing a sleeveless top, and she was in her signature red top, the cut exposing her cleavage as it always was the case with her.
But that didn’t bother Daphne as much as their position, or better, hers on him. She was lying on him, stomach to his back, and hands flat on his shoulders to place her chin.
She felt the blood flush out of her face, making her go pale. Her friends were waving and greeting, screaming jokes at the phone and laughing together, but Daphne’s ears muffled the sounds around her.
A scoff escaped, completely out of her control, no mental process behind it, just instinct. She looked down at her food, moving the last few bites of risotto and fish around with her fork.
If Cleo were here, after their fight, Daphne would’ve felt even more stupid. Maybe she really wasn’t that observant person she always believed herself to be.
Lying on his back, feet dangling in the air. Friends do that? Was she too conservative, or were boundaries a foreign concept to them?
“Something’s wrong with me,” she muttered out loud, leaving her fork in the plate to rub her face.
“Hmm? What did you say?” Asher was speaking with his mouth full of risotto. “Said anything?”
“No, no, I…” she sighed, mindlessly rubbing her eyes without caring about the mascara.
“I’m just…” she got up, legs pushing her chair away, “ just gonna head upstairs.”
Her voice was raspy with exhaustion, coarse and breathy, rattled by what she’d seen.
“Oh, hey, babe.” Taehyung’s hand instinctively reached for her, stopping on the back of her leg. “Where are you going? Everything alright?”
“Yeah, I…” she trailed off again, mustering all the restraint in her not to push his hand off. He eventually removed himself to make her way. “I’m just tired.”
“Oh, okay.” He followed her movements, turning his head around.
“But wait.” He grabbed her hand, and she sighed heavily. He frowned. “Wanna… I don’t know, maybe talk? Maybe while we cuddle?”
“No, don’t worry,” she sharply exhaled, “I’m too tired for anything, Tae.”
“Well then, good night?” His tone was still a little hopeful for a little more context, and the frown hadn’t left his face yet. But his hold softened by a fraction.
“Night.” She leaned down and pecked his cheek and went on her way.
As soon as she stepped out of the restaurant, she pulled on the rubber band and undid her ponytail. It wasn’t anything too tight, yet the tension released gave her just a little ounce of relief.
Her slippers lightly scratched the floor as she went up the stairs with unusually heavy steps. The farther she went, the more the noise turned muffled.
She moved to the left to make way for the other clients coming from the opposite direction, and shortly after, she was turning her bedroom door handle and finally locking out the chaos.
Naturally, it was empty, a bit cold because of the window they left ajar, but empty and quiet.
Daphne rested against the door, sighing again, but this time her lungs didn’t take the air in, refusing the relief because she was yet to find any.
She quickly turned into the closet, abandoning the rubber band on the vanity to go through her bag and look for her sleepwear. Her movements were hasty, hands shaky enough to make her a bit clumsy.
She took a deep breath—again, useless—and left her pyjamas next to her on the carpet before zipping up the bag again.
The moment she stepped out of the closet, the grating sound of her slippers seemed to have scraped on her skin, and she quickly took them off, dumping the sleepwear on the bed and quickly closing the window.
Unlike usual, she didn’t mind stepping into the bathroom with just her socks on. After retrieving her vanity purse, she went in, brushed her teeth, washed her face, and came back out just as quickly.
She couldn’t stand seeing her reflection, so both in the toilet and in the closet, she soared past the mirrors like a vampire.
Her movements, as she changed, were rough, messy, abrupt, and clumsy, even worse as she folded her clothes and pushed them into her bag.
Getting in bed felt like going up a trampoline to jump and break through an iced lake—cold embrace and a rigid surface. She instantly curled up, arms keeping her knees to her chest and face nuzzling under the blanket, like she couldn’t stand the idea of someone watching her.
Besides the lampposts shining into the room through the window and the golden glow spilling inside from under the door, everything was completely dark.
The vibration of her phone rang in her head as though a bee had got into her ear. She closed her eyes at the sound, slowly exhaling to maintain herself, keep her composure, but her hand still snuck under the pillow.
Squinting at the bright blue light, she quickly swiped on her screen, taking the brightness down, and easing the dry burn to her eyes.
She had a few notifications—the usual ones from games she hadn’t played in a long time, Pinterest updates from her email, random reminders from Instagram, and a text.
Toothless | 08:49 PM
hey, babe
I know u said ur tired, so I ain’t trynna bother u
but we both know u ain’t just tired, so if u need anything, hit me up
She giggled without even realising, leaving the chat with no reply.
Her WhatsApp homepage naturally had him as the first contact, then followed her mother, Asher, Dayanne, and finally, Cleo. But unlike the first ones, which read the specific timestamp they’d last communicated, Cleo’s read a date.
Daphne turned on her back, holding the phone better and feeling a tear run down her ear. She ignored it, biting her lip and opening the chat.
They hadn’t texted in a full week, and the last message was from the morning of that day, a text Cleo sent her to tell her she was just leaving home before school.
Another tear ran to her ear, this time from the other eye.
The fact that Cleo had turned off her receipts and the status made Daphne’s eyes burn harder, tired of staring at the chat, the contact name, making out her miniature photo profile, only to see nothing about her—no last seen, not online.
She deeply exhaled; her minty breath from the toothpaste bounced on the phone and back to her. She blinked twice and began typing.
Two words. Delete.
Another two words. Delete.
Eight words. Instant delete.
Three words. Again delete.
Two words again, the obvious—a simple I’m sorry. Still delete.
Too short, too long. Too casual, too dramatic. It quickly exhausted her, hands falling on her stomach with the phone.
She stared at the ceiling, this one very different from the one back at home, but she stared at it, watched it glow under the dim light of her phone and still watched as the device went to sleep, plunging her into the darkness all over again.
She felt tears running down to her ears, probably landing on the pillow and leaving wet spots that would annoy her if she turned on her side.
One, two, three. She’d lost the count.
“I’m so stupid.”
She pulled on the now dry skin on her lips, wincing at the rough pull and tasting iron in her mouth.
Turning on her left side, she slid the phone back under the pillow, feeling pathetic, sad to look at, embarrassed, and hugged the blanket tighter.
By the time she actually realised it, she was bawling her eyes out in the blanket, feeling the tears leave progressively wide wet patches. Her sobs were now ugly muffled sounds, broken by near hiccups.
“I’m sorry,” she whined, biting into the blanket and squeezing her eyes shut so tight that they hurt. “I’m so sorry.”
Her toes were torturing each other, her gums were growing sore from the bites, and her biceps tensed up for how tightly she was hugging the blanket.
“I’m so sorry, C.”
—Now playing: No One Noticed by The Marìas ✫
The loud groan of a car echoed through the neighbourhood, headlights shining on walls, through the dark evening and the windows of the houses around.
The leftover mounds of snow were giving the deep blue evening an almost milky appearance, and the stars in the sky worked like freckles on skin—light on dark.
The white headlights reached Cleo’s house and her eyes when she moved the curtain to check who it was.
“Oh, knew it.” She pushed it back, returning to the kitchen. “It’s just Daphne’s grandpa. My dad’s not coming back from the workshop in, at least, forty minutes.”
“Oh! I’m famished.” Nick actually growled, hands up like the hungry beast he was. “I’d never studied for so long, and now my brain’s starving.”
“Yeah, anyone knows that you ain’t never studied for so long. Your grades alone attest to it—”
“James, you’re talking like you haven’t failed your classes as well—”
“Just physics and maths, the classic subjects you don’t pass.”
Cinnamon sped past Cleo just as she stepped back into the kitchen, tiptoeing to take the plates.
“Thanks,” she mumbled to Nick, collecting the plates from him.
“You’re welcome,” he scoffed, “can’t die of hunger because someone’s too short—”
“Too short?!” Cleo looked at him from head to toe, mouth ajar. “In which universe am I too short?”
Nick laughed, taking a cautious step back. “Fuck. You make it sound like a slur.”
“C, in what world is 5’4’’ tall?”
“You mean, in what world is 5’4’’ short?!”
“Fuck, I really gotta check if it’s a slur.” Nick instinctively dodged the moment Cleo snapped her eyes back on him. She looked at him for three good seconds before sighing and resuming her task.
“I can’t believe we’re even arguing about this,” she mumbled to everyone, herself included. “Y’all never heard of average height?”
“That’s like participation prize—”
Nick scoffed. “You mean consolation— Ah!”
Cleo poked him with the wooden spoon. “It’s like you gon starve tonight, huh?”
“Ouch!” Nick exaggeratedly pouted, rubbing his rib. “James, she’s assaulting me, and you’re just watching. These generations seem not to give a fuck about bro code anymore.”
“Oh, sorry, grandpa.” James spoke in a baby voice. “I’m too busy setting the table for your tiger of a stomach. Not even Demi Lovato is as loud as that.”
“Hah!” Cleo laughed, shoving Nick out of the way with her elbow. “You rather help or get the fuck out the way.”
He blinked three times, scoffing at both. “I look to my right, and I see infantility. I look to my left, and I see virility—”
Cleo stepped on his foot hard, and he groaned so loud, gripping his toes and hopping around like a wounded kangaroo.
“Nick, I look in front of me and see only senility—” James hit back. “Dude, not even that old hag I have next door is as grumpy as you’re being right now—”
Nick thrashed around, whining, “I’m hungry—”
“We all are!” Cleo roared at him, sticking her tongue out for good measure. Nick chuckled, shaking his head.
“I’m in a den of lions—”
“Says the tiger-stomached. Funny though, because tigers are pretty much self-sufficient, lone riders who hunt for themselves—”
“Okay, James,” Cleo laughed, “shut up. Hearing you sound smart is almost uncanny.”
Nick barked out a laugh so loud it spooked Cinnamon in the living room and made Cleo jump on the spot.
“Mmm, yeah,” James rolled his eyes, “joke of the century, yeah? And you clearly have the sense of humour of a newborn baby—”
Nick cut him off with another loud laugh, and James’s lips went thin in annoyance, trying not to let the contagious sound get to him. Cleo didn’t care, giggling as she served their potions on the plates.
“Yeah, really gotta feed him.” James dropped on his chair. “Who would’ve thought that to send the almighty Dominic Toretto into psychosis would just be studying for four hours straight?”
“I mean,” Nick wiggled his eyebrows, “who wouldn’t? And thank you for calling me Dominic Toretto. I appreciate that—”
“Get your ass at the table.” Cleo waited for him to get out of her way, which he did, but not before giving her a salute.
“Ugh, you’re the biggest fucking baby I know—”
“How many babies do you actually know—”
“Nick, help her carry the plates or shut the fuck up—”
“Nah, just take the plates,” Cleo pushed them in his hands. “Shutting up is way harder for him.”
“Wow,” he held his chest, “I’m so touched—”
James gasped. “You’ve been touched?”
Their laughter sounded like two dogs barking at each other, and all Cleo could do was roll her eyes and try not to join them.
“Come on, Tom and Foolery, time to eat.”
The plates softly knocked on the wooden table in the dining room, silverware clinging like a musical triangle.
“No phones at the table, Tom.” Nick pointed an accusatory finger at James.
With his device in his right hand, James grabbed Nick’s finger, pushing it out of his face. “Shut up, Foolery.”
“Fucking hell.” Cleo chuckled, shaking her head as she settled at the table.
“Man,” James stretched in his seat, “going onto Instagram after studying for so long feels more rewarding.”
Cleo cocked her brow, fork hovering over the food. “Your reward is going onto Instagram?”
“What else? Do drugs, drink, or jerk off?”
“Jeez,” Nick almost choked on his food as he laughed. “How are those the only rewards you know?”
James cackled, throwing his head back. “Man, I’m just fucking with you, chill out.”
“Nobody’s chilled in,” Cleo hit back with a chuckle. James glanced at her, rolling his eyes at the hyena giggles he was hearing from Nick.
“Ooh!” He sat up, looking at his friends. “Daph’s cooped up real good, look at this.”
He turned the phone, going through Daphne’s Instagram stories.
“Damn, now this is a reward—”
“And yet, you’d never make it there, given your special brain—”
“Nick, you can’t be the one talking. Oh, just ‘cause Asher’s away, getting just as cooped up, you think you can take his spot?”
“His spot?” Nick scoffed, speaking with his mouth full. “ You talking about it like it’s a fucking throne.”
“Like it’s a fucking throne,” James mimicked him, pouting and making his voice groggy.
“I wasn’t fucking pouting—”
“I wasn’t fucking pouting—”
Nick finally swallowed. “Mimick me again like that—”
“Mimi—”
“Y’all act like fucking buffoons.” Cleo pinched between her eyebrows, sighing like a bull.
James slowly swallowed, blinking cautiously. “I’ll… add that to my vocabulary—”
“Me too—”
“And you’re still going on.” Her eyes went wide. “I ain’t hugging no one to get your food out when you start choking.”
“Well, obviously,” Nick’s brows wiggled with a life of their own as he flexed his muscles, chest broad like a turkey, “your arms certainly can’t hold me and apply the right pressure. Almost four years at the gym got me looking like the Hulk.”
“Hulk on malfunctioning steroids—”
“Oh, so James you know so much of steroids enough to tell the difference between good and bad functioning ones? Exposing ourselves, are we?”
“The place’s awesome,” Cleo mumbled mostly to herself as she went through the stories from James’s phone. “Now I know why they always take their rich asses there.”
James and Nick paused for a few heartbeats, trying to understand what their friend was referring to, before finally regaining seriousness.
“Haven’t they been going there for years now, though?” James reached for the jar of water.
Cleo shrugged. “They’re stingy even with the looks and basically share no photos of the place, I guess.”
“Stingy?” Nick coughed out a laugh. “Now, that’s one way to put it.”
“She’s right, though,” James began speaking as soon as he finished downing the water, “they don’t share much of the environment, just their selfies and group photos, but it ain’t a big issue anyway.”
Nick’s gaze moved between his friends, eyes a little glazed over to think about their words.
“Hmm,” he nodded to himself, “you’re right. And if it’s time to take pics, you can always count on Daph.”
They giggled together aside from Cleo, who was still looking at the photos, going from Daphne’s stories to Adrielle’s.
“This is the first time she’s posting about the skiing experience.”
“Hmm?” They asked in unison.
“Adrielle, I mean.” She turned the phone. “She’s never posted about that place, up until now.”
Nick began cackling like a hyena. “Bet she felt competitive when Daphne began posting her slideshows, hmm?”
“No way!” James barked out a laugh, hand landing on Nick’s shoulder. “First, it’s the boy, and now it’s fucking pictures.”
Hyenas on meth, both. Cleo rolled her eyes, feeling the contagious sound pull at the corner of her lips.
“Guys, stop,” she chuckled, turning the device off and pushing it to James. “Thank god Daph’s not here. She would’ve rolled the fuck out of her eyes just because we mentioned this.”
“Mentioned what?” Nick chuckled, coming down from his laughter.
“What do you mean ‘mentioned what?’, dude?” James patted his shoulder again. “She hates it when we talk about Adrielle and Taehyung.”
“Oh!” Nick exaggeratedly threw his head back, acting like he’s seen a biblical revelation. “That!”
“Yeah, that—”
“But I don’t get why she avoids the topic so much.” Cleo cut James short, toying with food a little. “It’s like saying the sky’s blue and the grass is green—”
James objected. “Nah, I wouldn’t put it that plainly.”
“How is it not?” She narrowed her eyes. “Adrielle clearly hates her guts and even harder with Taehyung in the equation— I haven’t told you this yet, but back at the cabin— James, you listening?”
“Mm-hmm.” He took a mouthful of rice.
“Back at Taehyung’s cabin, like, the first day and during the first game with played, the one Avyanna was teaching us—”
“Yeah, yeah, I get it. Go on.”
“Exactly.” Cleo sat up, body vibrating with the excitement that comes with spreading gossip. “Well, Tae and Daphne had fought before the sleepover and hadn’t talked it out yet, and Daphne offered to start cooking while I said I’d join her after a match—”
“Oh, yeah, that!” James sprang up, hitting Nick’s back.
“Dude, fuck,” he coughed, “you gon have me deepthroating my spoon like that.”
James laughed out loud, still patting his friend’s back and shaking his head. “Sorry, man. But what I was saying is that I remember Taehyung offering to join Daph before you—”
“Yeah, yeah! Exactly!” Cleo snapped her fingers, her fork long forgotten on her plate.
“And when he offered, Adrielle basically said that Daphne hadn’t called for him or something.”
“Yeah. He said that he wanted to help her around the kitchen because she wouldn’t know where all the utensils stay, and Adrielle hit back saying that she hadn’t heard Daphne asking for help basically.”
Nick paused, eyes slowly widening. “She seriously said that?”
“Yep!” Cleo chirped with a shrug. “Weirded me out too.”
“Hah! But I also remember Taehyung shutting her down, saying that Daphne didn’t need to call for him before he’d go or something, no?”
James turned to Cleo, and she slowly nodded in pride. Nick’s jaw was touching the table at this point.
“What in the seven hells? How much shit did I miss, and why y’all telling me about this just now?”
“I think it’s because C and Daph are fighting, and C needs someone to fight for her cause.”
James’s words nearly had Cleo choking on her bite. She blinked away the tears that formed as her nose stung like she’d inhaled water.
“What…” she began, chuckling in a shaky tone, “what are you talking about?”
“The obvious.” Nick spoke instead, shrugging and stretching his legs under the table. “I might be dumb, but not that dumb.”
“Daph and I didn’t—”
“Keep that shit for someone who’d actually believe it, Cleo.” James cut straight to the chase, filling his glass with water again. “It’s clear as day. You two are glued to the hip and now you’re separated like it’s the fucking ebola.”
Cleo gave up, filling her mouth with food to stop herself from further replying. She almost choked again at the sound of James’s scoff. It was a little mocking, condescending, all things she hated.
“What did you guys quarrel about?” He pestered on while Nick took the last spoon from his plate.
Cleo’s cheeks were like squirrel’s, filled with food she was purposely chewing slowly to avoid the topic. But James was no fool, and now Nick’s hunger wasn’t solely for food any longer.
“Yeah, okay, little chipmunk,” he sighed, “while you chew your rice like it’s made of bricks, I’ll throw in a few ideas— Nick, you with me?”
Nick turned around from the kitchen, busy scooping up rice into his plate. Cleo stayed stubborn, refusing to swallow even to tell the boy to tone it down because the pot contained her father’s dinner as well.
She got up from her chair instead, heading to the kitchen herself with James’s chuckles echoing behind her. They made the hairs on her body stand like a cat’s during a thunderstorm.
“Okay, Nick!” James remained obnoxiously loud, making sure she could hear him even from a distance.
“Here comes my first suggestion, the most unlikely one: Cleo’s bothered that Daph’s going to the ski resort with the others.”
Nick exaggeratedly gasped like James was telling a horror story at a bonfire.Cleo paused, frowned but didn’t turn around.
To that, James snapped his fingers. “You see, most unlikely, and exactly, it ain’t true.”
“Aww.” NIck threw his head back.
“Next one!” James clapped, and Cleo swallowed a little from the rice in her mouth.
“Another unlikely one: Cleo’s envious of Daph’s relationship—”
“Pff!” This time, Nick spat out his water, quickly apologising through his chuckles. “I’ll clean that right away.”
James snickered, looking at his messy friend. “Well, very unlikely, because knowing our Cleo, she’d never tell you that, even if it were the case, but going from there,” he pushed the chair back as he got up to waltz around.
“Going from there, and talking about Daph’s relationship, why would our dear Cleo be envious at all, be it the case? Simple answer, my dears: Jeon Jungkook.”
Cleo paused again, checking the plate she was serving for her dad to realise that James’s words had distracted her so much she’d made the portion way too big for a single person.
“Now…” James heaved a sigh, “what about Jungkook would be chaotic enough, disturbing enough, to break the bond between the twin girls separated at birth?”
“That one’s easy too,” Nick raised his finger, still kneeling to clean up the water he’d spat. James winked at him like a proud teacher and snapped his fingers.
“Yes, it is. Kook’s playing with your feelings, Cleo,” he directly addressed her. “Ash knows, I know, Nick knows, and Daphne certainly knows, and you might have translated her dislike for your relationship as an attack or hate—”
“I didn’t— That wasn’t—” She paused, reminding herself to swallow and almost choosing not to when a wicked smirk appeared on James’s face.
“There she goes,” he clicked his tongue, sitting back down on his chair with a sigh. “Come on, spit it out.”
Nick brushed past her, discarding the dirty wet paper towel in the trash can before rinsing his hands. Cleo finished cutting rations out of the plate and keeping it aside for her father. Finally, she returned to the table.
“It sounds like you’re making a mockery of me, I gotta be honest—”
“You’re making a mockery of yourself—”
“As you are with Avyanna—”
“Why the fuck do you keep thinking about us and treating us like we’re soulmates or bethroted at birth?” He rang back. “God, she’s smoking hot, fun to be around, and different from other girls I’ve been with. Is that so surprising?!”
“Oh, so you’re just waiting to fuck her?” Cleo cocked her head to the side. “Huh? Is that it?”
“Wow.” James rubbed his face. Nick remained mute, now slowly chewing not to let the sounds cover his friends’ voices. “Wow, Cleo. If y’all fought about Kook, and this is the energy you kept, I ain’t surprised you haven't spoken to each other in days—”
“What the fuck do you know?”
“What?” He cut her off with a scoff. “You brought up the Adrielle thing while she was warning you about Jungkook, didn’t you?”
“She called our relationship fickle—”
“What fucking else is it, huh? Can you actually swear that you know what this guy’s deal is?”
Cleo clenched her teeth, jaw constantly snapping in fury.
“Answer me! Up until the other month, you didn’t even know that he was rumoured to be Avyanna’s fuck buddy—”
“And doesn’t it bother you?”
James paused, frowning with something akin to disgust. “Bother me? Dude, I know I’m in line to be her next fuck buddy. I know she ain’t seeing me under any special light.”
“And you don’t mind it?”
“No, I don’t.” He shrugged, crossing his arms. “She wants to fuck, I also want to fuck. Sounds like a good and easy deal to me, no?”
Cleo glanced down at her food, appetite completely erased from her agenda for the rest of the evening. James sighed, dropping his arms on the table to lean closer.
“C, I know you like this guy, but don’t be attacking anyone that’s warning you off him. They’ve got good reason—”
“What reason?” Her tone was cold as metal and sharp as a blade.
“The same reason you fear losing him: uncertainty.” Nick looked at James first then at Cleo, studying the girl to see if James’s words had struck a nerve.
They did, but she tried to hide it.
“C, That does make your relationship fickle. It’s the harsh truth, but the truth nonetheless. And you can’t go around fighting your best fucking friend over him. It’s sad, a little pathetic, but very sad.”
Nick swallowed quickly, his words coming out just as fast. “If he’s taking so long to make things clear with you, then he doesn’t like you enough to deserve you.”
♥༻ gαя∂ɛɳιαѕ ༺♥
❀: thots and opinions?
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Genre: Established Relationship, Smut, Domestic Romance, Mature Romance
Warnings: 18+, explicit sexual content, graphic intimacy, sexual language, strong language, dominant/possessive dialogue, sexual teasing, intimate touching, established relationship, suggestive gym setting ( cus buff tae is so back )
The morning light crept through the curtains, pale and golden, but YN barely noticed. She was still tangled in the remnants of her dream. Tae’s hands gripping her hips, his cock buried deep inside her, the way he’d fucked her so hard her toes curled and her throat went raw from moaning. In the dream, he’d had her bent over the kitchen counter, his voice a low growl against her ear, telling her to take it, to take all of him. She’d woken with a gasp, her thighs pressed together, a slick heat already pooling between her legs.
She rolled over, one hand sliding across the cool sheets, patting the empty space beside her. Nothing. No warm body, no sleepy murmur. Just the faint hum of the ceiling fan and the distant clink of weights from the gym.
Of course. Tae was already up. Always up before her, always grinding out his sets before the rest of the world bothered to stir. And YN, with her pussy aching and her clit throbbing from the dream, knew exactly what she needed.
She didn’t bother with a bra. Just pulled on her flimsiest pair of shorts and a thin tank top, no underwear. The fabric was cool against her swollen lips, and she felt a shiver run through her as she padded down the hallway.
The gym was a converted garage, mirrors lining one wall. Tae was seated on the bench of the cable row machine, a heavy stack of plates loaded, his back straight, muscles straining as he pulled the handle toward his chest. He was shirtless, sweat glistening on his shoulders, his arms flexing with each controlled repetition. The sight of him,the way his biceps bulged, the way his abs tightened as he exhaled, made her clench around nothing.
He didn’t look up at first. He was focused, counting under his breath.
She walked up behind him, her hips swaying just enough to catch his eye in the mirror. When she was close enough, she reached down and slid her fingers over his shoulders, nails grazing his skin. He flinched, his grip on the handle faltering.
“Morning baby,” she purred, her voice husky with sleep and want
Tae’s eyes flicked up to the mirror, meeting hers. A smirk curled the corner of his mouth. “Someone’s up early.”
“Couldn’t sleep.” She leaned down, pressing her chest against his back, the thin fabric of her tank top doing nothing to hide the hard peaks of her nipples. “Had a dream about you.”
“Yeah?” He released the handle, letting the weights clatter back into place. The sound echoed in the small space. “What kind of dream?”
“The kind that makes me need you right now.” She moved around to the front of the machine, standing between his spread legs. He was still seated, his thighs wide, his shorts tented with a visible bulge. She reached down and palmed him through the fabric, feeling his length swell under her touch.
He let out a low groan, his head falling back. “Fuck, princess . I’ve got another set to do.”
“You can do me instead.” She tugged at the waistband of his shorts, pulling them down just enough to free his cock. It sprang up, thick and hard, the tip already glistening with a bead of precum. She licked her lips, then swung one leg over his lap, straddling him.
The machine had a wide, padded seat, and she settled onto his thighs, her shorts already soaked through. She could feel his heat between her legs, the tip of his cock pressing against her covered slit. She ground against him, a slow, wet grind that made her gasp.
“Greedy little thing,” he muttered, his hands coming up to grip her hips. “Didn’t even let me get a proper hello.”
“I said hello.” She reached down, tugging her shorts aside, exposing her bare pussy. The air hit her wet folds, and she shivered. “Now I want you inside me.”
Tae’s eyes darkened, his gaze dropping to where her body was already open and waiting. He didn’t need any more encouragement. One hand left her hip, guiding his cock to her entrance. He rubbed the head against her clit, just once, making her bite her lip.
“You’re so wet,” he said, his voice a low rumble. “Did you wake up like this?”
“Yes,” she breathed. “Dreaming about you fucking me. Couldn’t stop thinking about it.”
He pushed inside her in one smooth stroke, filling her completely. The stretch was perfect, the angle deep and hitting just the right spot. YN let out a moan that turned into a whimper as he bottomed out, his hips pressed flush against hers
“Fuck, baby,” she gasped, her fingers digging into his shoulders.
“Ride me, princess .” His voice was rough, teasing, his hands still holding her hips, not moving yet. “Show me how much you wanted it.”
She didn’t need to be told twice. She started to move, a slow, deliberate roll of her hips, grinding against him, feeling every inch of his cock slide inside her. The machine creaked beneath them, but she didn’t care. She was lost in the sensation , the way his thick length dragged against her walls, the way her clit rubbed against his pubic bone with each motion.
Tae’s breath hitched, his grip tightening on her hips. “That’s it. Take what you need.”
“I want you to fuck me,” she said, her voice breaking. “Please, baby. I need you to ah fuck me hard.”
He laughed, a low, sexy sound. “Patience, princess. I want to watch you come undone first.”
He leaned forward, his mouth finding her neck, biting down gently. The sharp pleasure sent a jolt through her, and she rode him faster, her hips moving in a desperate rhythm. Her tank top had ridden up, her breasts bouncing with each motion, and he reached up to palm one, his thumb rubbing over her nipple.
“You’re so beautiful like this,” he murmured against her skin. “All wet and needy, using my cock to get off.”
“Because your cock is so good ” she gasped, her pace increasing. Sweat beaded at her temples, her breath coming in short, hot puffs. She could feel the pressure building, her orgasm coiling low in her belly.
He shifted his hands, sliding them down to her ass, gripping her cheeks and spreading them as she rode him. The new angle let him sink even deeper, and she cried out, her head falling back.
“Fuck, yes, right there,” she moaned.
“You like that?” He thrust up into her, meeting her movements, his own hips starting to piston. “You like being filled up while I’m still trying to finish my workout?”
“I don’t care about your workout,” she panted. “I care about you fucking me until I can’t walk.”
He growled, his control snapping. He wrapped his arms around her waist, standing up from the machine in one powerful motion, his cock still buried inside her. She let out a surprised yelp, wrapping her legs around his waist. He carried her two steps to the wall, pressing her back against the cool mirror, and began to fuck her in earnest.
The mirror fogged with their breath, her reflection warped and distorted as he drove into her, each thrust harder than the last. His hands were on her thighs, spreading her wide, and she could feel the wall against her spine, the cold glass a shock against her heated skin.
“This what you wanted?” he grunted, his forehead pressed against hers. “Me fucking you like a whore against the wall?”
“Yes, yes, yes,” she chanted, her nails raking down his back. “Don’t stop, baby, please, I’m so close”
“ Come for me,” he commanded, his voice a dark whisper. “Come on my cock, princess . Let me feel you.”
He thrust deep, grinding against her clit, and she shattered. Her orgasm hit her like a wave, her body convulsing, her pussy clenching around him in rhythmic pulses. She cried out his name, her vision blurring, and he kept fucking her through it, prolonging the pleasure, until she was trembling and gasping.
Only then did he let himself go. He buried his face in her neck, his hips stuttering, and she felt him come inside her, hot and thick, filling her up. He groaned, long and low, and she held him tight, her legs still locked around his waist.
For a long moment, they stayed like that, breathing hard, their bodies slick with sweat. The gym smelled of sex and iron, and the morning light was getting brighter.
Finally, Tae pulled back, his eyes soft and amused. He looked down at where they were still joined, a lazy smile spreading across his face. “Well, that’s one way to start the weekend.”
YN laughed, a breathless sound. “I’m not done with you yet.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Oh?”
She wiggled her hips, feeling him still half-hard inside her. “I still have a few more sets in me.”
He shook his head, but he was already moving, carrying her back to the bench. He sat down, pulling her onto his lap, his cock still inside her. “Fine. But you’re going to have to work for it.”
She grinned, leaning in to kiss him, slow and deep.
Hiiii, will there be a teaser for the next chapter?🩷🩷🩷
Right one time lol. I just posted it. Join the taglist to never miss any update as sometimes life fucks my plans up and forces me to delay a few things.
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❀ ݁₊ . tagline— She’s a flower, and he’s a butterfly. She’s learning to fly, and he’s trying to see what
❀ ݁₊ . tagline— She’s a flower, and he’s a butterfly. She’s learning to fly, and he’s trying to see what life is like when one feels grounded - stable.
❀ ݁₊ . pairing— kth x oc
❀ ݁₊ .wc— 539/14.4k | tot: 568.65k
❀ ݁₊ .date— 12/08/2026
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The hallway was relatively quiet, welcoming the muffled noise spilling from nearby spaces, such as the bedrooms, the restaurant, but most especially the lounge area.
Just like them, moments prior, the world outside flowed like a river along the main road to the winter market. The other visitors went about their day eating, resting, playing, returning from the slopes or lounging in their bedrooms, while the workers tended to them and the resort.
Daphne turned to her right, walking into the louder part of the ground floor. She recognised a few teachers sitting in a booth and talking, other clients taking turns at the pool table, and at last, Taehyung, lying on the couch and looking into the fireplace.
She chuckled to herself, letting her feet lead the way.
"Well, you gonna make me some space or not?"
Taehyung, who had been lying with his chest against the sofa, peered up at the sound of a voice. He smiled and turned around on his back.
"Come on," he urged, arms open. She gladly complied, resting her head on his chest, then sneaking her hand under his body for a hug.
"So," he sighed comfortably, his hand quick to start playing with her hair. "Do you like the place?"
She chuckled, the vibration going from her body to his.
"Like?” A scoff. “That's an understatement."
"Well, wow, I'm relieved. And there's more still."
"More?" She looked up, eyes leaving the fireplace she'd been gazing at. He nodded.
"There's a gym on the top floor." His voice was soft, reverberating through his chest. His fingers combed through her hair, gracing her back and coming back up.
"Nathan seems to have forgotten, but I know he'll remember, at least, by the morning and drag me and Jimin for some morning workout."
She giggled, resting her chin on her hand flat on his chest. "He's indeed going to kill you, isn't he?"
He chuckled. "But— There's a but. There's a basement here—"
"Mmm."
"And guess what's there?"
"I suck at guessing, just spit it out."
"A pool—warm water, showers, and a jacuzzi—"
"Ja- what?" Her eyes went wide. "You for real?"
"Toothpaste, this is my fifth time here with school, probably tenth with my friends—"
"You did not—" she slapped his chest "—call me Toothpaste—"
"I think I did actually." Another slap.
"And you even standing on it?"
"Hello, hello, lovebirds."
“Jimin, why are you walking like a fucking Targaryen?”
Daphne giggled, but Taehyung’s words only broadened their friend's shoulders.
“Now,” he theatrically paused by the couch, “my blonde hair suggests maybe a Lannister.”
Daphne scoffed, hands pinned on the couch to look up without breaking her neck. “You'd rather be a Lannister than a Targaryen?”
She laughed with Taehyung, returning her head on his chest again.
“I'd always choose dragons—”
“You know,” Jimin resumed, tone still theatrical, “if I really had to choose, I'd be a Stark. But—” Daphne and Taehyung groaned together as Jimin got comfortable on them, hair getting on Daphne's face as he used her back as a mattress. “I'd rather not be part of the Game of Thrones—”
“I'd rather you got off us before you smothered us to death—”
“Oh, but I'm a dainty, little prin—”
“Jimin!”
COMING SOON on Friday midnight
❃ | previously
Want some more? All in my Notion page. Check it out!
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TAGS NAVIGATION (where all the moodboards are organised)
Genre: romance, established relationship, first time, intimacy, fluff, emotional, comfort
Warnings: 18+, mature themes, sexual content, first-time intimacy, explicit language
The door clicked shut behind her, and the sound seemed to echo through the quiet apartment. Yn stood there in the doorway, still wearing her jacket from rushing over, her eyes finding him immediately on the couch. Taehyung was leaning forward, elbows on his knees, hands clasped together. He looked up when she entered, and the raw hunger in his gaze made her breath catch.
"You came," he said, voice rough, almost surprised even though he'd asked her to.
"Of course I did." She slipped off her jacket, kicked off her shoes, and crossed the room to sit beside him on the couch. The space between them felt electric, charged with something unspoken. "You said you needed me."
He let out a shaky exhale, running a hand through his damp hair. He'd just showered after practice, but the scent of soap and warmth clung to his skin. "I do. I always do." A pause. "But tonight... fuck, Yn." He dropped his head back against the cushion, staring at the ceiling. "The guys were on my case again.
About us. About- you know."
Her stomach tightened. "They don't know what we have."
"I know." He turned to face her, his knee brushing hers. "They said I must not be into you if we haven't done it yet. Said maybe I'm not straight, or maybe you're not attractive enough." His jaw clenched. "I shut that shit down quick. Told them I get hard just thinking about you. Just hearing your voice. Just your name." He let out a bitter laugh. "Which is true.
That's the problem."
Yn felt heat creep up her neck. "Tae..."
"But I don't want to do anything just because they're pushing me." He reached out, took her hand, his thumb stroking over her knuckles. "I want it to be because you want it. When you're ready. If you're not, we wait. I don't care how long."
She looked at their intertwined fingers, then up into his dark, earnest eyes. The same eyes that had looked at her with such tenderness on their first date, that had held her through makeout sessions that left them both breathless and aching .
"I'm ready," she said softly.
His hand stilled. "What?"
"I'm ready, Tae." She shifted closer, her thigh pressing against his. "I've been ready for a while. I just... didn't want to push you. I know how much you care about it being special, about not rushing me. But I've thought about it. I want this. I want you."
The air thickened. His breath hitched, and his eyes darkened, pupils dilating as he searched her face for any hesitation. Finding none, he let out a low groan and pulled her into his arms, burying his face in her hair.
"Fuck," he whispered against her scalp. "I love you."
"I love you too."
He pulled back just enough to look at her, then his mouth was on hers. It was different from their usual kisses. His tongue swept against her lower lip, asking, and she parted for him immediately. The kiss deepened, his hands sliding into her hair, tilting her head back as he explored her mouth like he was memorizing every taste.
Yn moaned against his lips, her fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt. She could feel the hard line of his cock pressing against his sweatpants, even through her jeans. The evidence of his arousal sent a thrill through her.
He broke the kiss, breathing hard. "Are you sure?
Because if we start, I don't think I can stop."
"I'm sure." She cupped his face. "Make love to me, Taehyung""
That was all he needed.
He stood, pulling her up with him, and led her to his bedroom. The room was dim, lit only by the city lights filtering through the curtains. His bed was unmade, sheets tangled from the night before. He didn't bother straightening them.
"I wanted our first time to be perfect," he said, turning to face her. "Candles, rose petals, the whole thing. But now that you're here, and you're saying yes... I can't wait."
"Perfection is overrated," she said, reaching for the hem of her shirt. "I just want you."
He caught her hands. "Let me."
Slowly, deliberately, he lifted her shirt over her head, tossing it aside. His eyes roamed over her black lace bra, and he inhaled sharply. "You're so beautiful."
She blushed as his fingers traced the edge of the lace, then moved to the clasp at her back. With a deft motion, it unclipped, and the bra slid down her arms.
He let it fall to the floor, and now she stood bare chested before him, her nipples tightening in the cool air.
His gaze was worshipful. He reached out, cupping her breasts, thumbs brushing over the stiff peaks.
She gasped at the sensation, her hips instinctively pressing forward.
"These are perfect," he murmured, leaning down to take one nipple into his mouth.
Yn cried out, her hands gripping his shoulders as his tongue swirled around the sensitive bud, then sucked gently. The sensation shot straight to her core, making her wet. She could feel the moisture gathering between her thighs.
He gave the other breast the same attention, alternating between licking and sucking until she was trembling against him. Then he knelt before her, his hands moving to the button of her jeans.
"May I?"
She nodded, unable to speak.
He unfastened her jeans, sliding the zipper down with agonizing slowness, then hooked his fingers into the waistband and pulled them down her legs.
She stepped out of them, leaving her in only a pair of lacy black panties, soaked through with her arousal.
Taehyung groaned at the sight. "You're wet for me."
"All for you," she whispered.
He pressed his mouth to her belly, kissing a trail down to the waistband of her panties, then nuzzled against the damp fabric. "I want to taste you so bad."
"Then do it."
His fingers hooked into the sides of her panties and pulled them down. She stepped out of them, now completely naked before her boyfriend, her first love.
She felt suddenly vulnerable, but his expression, pure adoration mixed with raw lust, made her feel powerful.
He looked up at her from his knees. "Lie down."
She did, scooting back onto the bed, her head resting on his pillow. It smelled like him. He climbed onto the bed after her, positioning himself between her legs. For a moment he just looked at her, spread open and waiting for him.
"God, you're perfect," he breathed. Then he lowered his head and put his mouth on her.
The first touch of his tongue against her clit made her jolt, a sharp gasp escaping her lips. He licked slowly, experimentally, learning her body's responses. When he found a rhythm that made her moan, he stuck with it, lapping at her folds, occasionally sucking her clit into his mouth.
"Tae" she gasped, her hands flying to his hair. "That feels-oh, fuck"
He hummed against her, the vibration sending waves of pleasure through her. He slipped one finger inside her, then two, stretching her gently as he continued to lick. Her inner walls clenched around his fingers, and he felt how tight she was.
"You're so tight," he murmured against her. "I'm going to stretch you open slowly. I don't want to hurt you."
She barely registered his words, lost in the sensation of his mouth and fingers working in tandem. He added a third finger, scissoring them to open her up, and she bucked against his hand.
"Please," she begged, not even sure what she was asking for.
He lifted his head, his chin glistening with her wetness. "Please what, baby?"
"I want you inside me."
He kissed her inner thigh, then crawled up her body, positioning his hips between her legs. He was still wearing his sweatpants, and the bulge was prominent. She reached down, palming him through the fabric. He groaned, his hips thrusting into her hand.
"I need to be inside you betore I explode."
He sat back on his heels and pulled his shirt off, then shucked his sweatpants and boxers in one motion.
His cock sprang free, hard and thick, the tip slick with pre cum. Yn's mouth went dry. She'd seen pictures, imagined it, but the reality was different, veined, heavy, and so clearly meant for her.
He leaned over, reaching for the bedside drawer. "I have condoms. Wanted to be prepared just in case."
She nodded. "Use one."
He tore the wrapper open with his teeth, rolled the condom down his length, then positioned himself at her entrance. The head of his cock nudged against her slick folds, and they both stilled.
"Ready?" he asked, his voice strained.
"Yes."
He pushed in slowly, just the tip. Her body resisted, the tightness making him groan. "Fuck, you're so tight. So fucking tight."
He inched deeper, giving her time to adjust. She felt the stretch, a slight burn, but it was mixed with pleasure. When he was fully sheathed inside her, he paused, letting her body accommodate him.
"You okay?" He was trembling, sweat beading on his forehead .
"More than okay," she breathed. "Move."
He pulled out almost all the way, then thrust back in, a little faster this time. The friction, the fullness, the intimacy it was overwhelming. She wrapped her legs around his waist, pulling him deeper.
"That's it," she gasped. "Fuck me, Tae."
He picked up the pace, his hips slapping against hers. The room filled with the sound of wet skin meeting, his grunts, her moans. He angled his thrusts, searching, until he hit a spot that made her cry out.
"Right there, don't stop"
He didn't. He drove into her, over and over, hitting that spot with every stroke. Her nails raked down his back, leaving red lines. He didn't care. He was lost in her heat, her tightness, her pleasure.
"I'm close," he panted. "I can't fuck, you feel so good"
"Come for me baby."
That did it. With a guttural cry, he buried himself deep, his hips shuddering as he emptied himself into the condom. The sensation of him pulsing inside her, even through the latex, pushed her over the edge.
Her orgasm crashed through her, her inner walls clenching around him, milking him.
He collapsed on top of her, careful not to crush her, his face buried in her neck. They lay there, breathing hard, hearts pounding together.
After a long moment, he lifted his head, his eyes soft.
"That was... I don't have words."
She smiled, brushing his sweaty hair off his forehead.
"Me neither."
He kissed her gently, then pulled out and disposed of the condom. When he returned, he pulled her into his arms, spooning her from behind.
"Round two after I recover?" he murmured against her shoulder.
She laughed, snuggling back against him. "You're already thinking about round two?"
"I've got months of pent up horniness to make up for."
His hand slid down her belly, fingers finding her still sensitive clit. She gasped as he began to circle it lazily.
"But first," he said, his voice dark with promise, "l want to taste your cum on my tongue."
And he rolled her onto her back, sliding down between her legs once more.
