#yujin

[jupiterpilgrim]

Scenes from a Marriage

Yujin x male reader

word count: 16K

You’ve been to this restaurant many times, but never for a reason this strange.

Twenty minutes have already passed. twenty minutes you spent scrolling through your phone, pretending you're not nervous as hell. The server has refilled your water glass twice and offered you bread three times, and you've politely declined each time because starting without her feels wrong, even if she did completely ghost the first dinner your families arranged.

You're not even mad about that, honestly. When your father sat you down three weeks ago and told you that you'd be marrying Ahn Yujin - yes, that Ahn Yujin, the one from IVE - you'd laughed. You thought it was a joke.

it wasn't.

On the razor’s edge between dream and nightmare: she will be your wife.

The Ahn family and your family have been circling each other for years. Something about merging business interests, something about her father's entertainment investment firm needing the backing of your family's tech conglomerate for some massive project. You don't know the full details because frankly, you've never cared much about the business side of things. You're the youngest son, the one they didn't expect much from, the one who went into software development instead of finance because you liked building things more than moving money around. But marriages are leverage in families like yours, and your older brother already married for love (the bastard), which means you're the spare piece on the chessboard.

And apparently Yujin is too.

The door to the private room slides open, and she walks in, and god, she's even more stunning in person than she is on screen. She's tall - you knew that, everyone knows that, she's famously one of the tallest idols in the industry - but seeing her in real life hits different. She's wearing a simple black dress. Her long, thick legs are completely on display, making it impossible not to sneak at least a quick look. Her hair is down, falling past her shoulders, and her face is exactly as beautiful as every high-definition fancam has shown you.

"Sorry I'm late," she says, and she doesn't sound sorry at all. She sits down across from you, sets her phone face-down on the table, and immediately reaches for the menu like she's hoping it'll shield her from having to look at you.

"No worries." You try to sound relaxed. "I figured idol schedules are pretty crazy. Did you just come from practice?"

She doesn't answer. She's studying the menu. You wait. The silence stretches. The server comes in, takes your orders (she gets a salad, you get the steak because you're starving and also because ordering a salad would feel like you're trying too hard to impress her), pours wine that neither of you touch, and leaves.

More silence.

You clear your throat. "So, funny story about my week."

She looks up at you with a completely neutral expression. It's not encouragement, exactly, but it's not a stop sign either, so you barrel forward.

"I had to sit through this four-hour board meeting on Tuesday. Four hours. And I was the youngest person in there by like, thirty years minimum. Everyone else was these executives who've been doing this since before I was born, and they're all using these buzzwords like 'synergy' and 'leverage our core competencies' and I'm just sitting there trying not to fall asleep."

Her expression doesn't change.

"Anyway, at some point they asked me to share my thoughts on the new product rollout, and I was so zoned out that I accidentally said 'I think we should just vibe with it and see what happens.' Just. Said the word vibe. In a corporate board meeting. To a room full of sixty-year-old executives."

You laugh. It's your genuine laugh, the slightly too-loud one that your mother always told you to keep under control in polite company.

Yujin does not laugh. She doesn't even crack a smile. She just looks at you with those beautiful, unimpressed eyes.

"And then," you continue, because at this point you're committed, "the CEO, who is this really intense guy, never smiles, he just nodded and said 'vibe with it, I like that, very millennial.' And now it's a thing. They're putting it in the company newsletter. 'The Vibe Initiative.' I've accidentally started a corporate movement."

You're laughing alone. Yujin is just staring at you. You feel your cheeks heating up, that familiar flush of embarrassment that comes from bombing a joke in front of a crowd that isn't having it.

"Okay," you say, still grinning even though it's a little forced now. "Tough crowd. That's fair. That story is funnier when you're not being forced to have dinner with a stranger you're supposed to marry."

"Look. I'm going to be direct with you because I don't want any misunderstandings."

"Okay." You sit up straighter, giving her your full attention. "Direct is good. I appreciate direct."

"This marriage," she says, "is happening because our families want it to happen. Not because I want it. Not because you want it, I assume."

"I mean—"

"It's business." She cuts you off. "Your family wants connections in entertainment. My family wants backing for their expansion. We're the transaction."

You don't argue with that. You can't, because she's right. That's exactly what this is. You've known it from the moment your father explained the arrangement, laying out the benefits like he was presenting a merger proposal. The Ahns get financial security and influence. Your family gets a foot in the entertainment industry and the social cachet that comes with having a famous idol in the family. Everyone wins.

Except the two people who actually have to live with each other.

"So here's how this is going to work." Yujin's tone hasn't warmed up even a single degree. "We get married. We move into the penthouse that our families are buying. And that is where our relationship ends."

"Okay." You nod slowly. "What does that mean, practically?"

"It means separate bedrooms. Separate lives." She ticks the points off on her fingers, long and elegant, her nails painted a subtle nude pink. "You don't touch me. You don't kiss me. You don't even think about trying anything. There's no romantic relationship here. There's no relationship at all, actually. We're roommates who happen to share a last name on some legal documents."

Her eyes are hard, daring you to argue. You don't.

"And when this is over, when my family gets what they want and they stop paying such close attention, we divorce quietly. We go our separate ways. We pretend this never happened." She leans forward slightly. "At most, we show up to family dinners together a few times a year and act like we can stand each other. That's it. That's the deal. Is that clear?"

You look at her for a long moment. She's so tense, so guarded, like she's bracing for you to argue or get angry or try to negotiate. Like she's expecting you to be exactly the kind of guy she's clearly decided you are: some rich asshole who thinks he can buy anything, including a wife.

"Yes ma'am," you say simply.

She blinks. It's subtle, but you catch it.

"That's it?" she asks. "You're not going to fight me on this?"

"Why would I?" You shrug, leaning back in your chair. "Yujin, I get it. I really do. This whole thing was dropped on both of us without any warning. One day you're living your life, doing your job, being one of the biggest idols in the country, and the next day some guy you've never met is suddenly your fiancé because your parents made a deal. That's insane. Of course you're not thrilled about it."

She's watching you warily, like she's waiting for the catch.

"I'm not going to pretend I'm in love with you," you continue. "I'm not going to pretend this is some fairy tale romance. We both know what this is. And if separate bedrooms and no touching is what makes you comfortable, then that's what we do. Your boundaries are your boundaries. I'm not here to violate them."

"You're being very... agreeable," she says slowly.

"I'm being realistic." You rest your chin on your hand, elbow propped on the table. Your mother would yell at you for the improper posture, but your mother isn't here. "Look, you don't know me. You have no reason to trust me. All you know is that I'm some rich guy from a family that makes deals like this, and in your experience, guys like that are probably entitled jerks who think they can do whatever they want. Right?"

She doesn't confirm it, but she doesn't deny it either.

"So I could sit here and tell you I'm different, but that would just be words. You'd have no reason to believe me. The only thing I can do is show you, over time, that I'm going to respect what you've asked for. And if that means we're roommates who occasionally pretend to like each other at dinner parties, then that's what we are." You spread your hands. "I'm not here to make your life harder than it already is."

"You're not what I expected," she says, sounding relieved and a little frustrated at the same time.

"What did you expect?"

"Someone more..." She searches for the word. "Pushy."

"I've been called a lot of things. Pushy isn't usually one of them. Awkward, sure. Talks too much, definitely. Once got called 'aggressively mediocre' by my brother, which I think was supposed to be an insult but honestly felt pretty accurate."

The corner of her mouth twitches. It's not a smile, not even close, but it's something. "Since we're already here," you say, "and the food's coming anyway, can we at least talk a little? Like actual human beings having an actual conversation?"

"About what?"

"I don't know." You tilt your head, considering. "Tell me about idol life. What's it actually like? Because from the outside it looks exhausting but also kind of amazing, and I've always been curious about the day-to-day reality of it."

"You're interested in that?"

"I like K-pop." You say it plainly, without embarrassment. "It's 2025. Everyone likes K-pop. Half of America is learning Korean because of BTS. It's not weird anymore."

"And you...?" She trails off, the question implicit.

"I may have," you admit, "had a very brief moment of internal screaming when I found out I was going to marry Yujin from IVE. Just a small one. Like, thirty seconds max. I was very cool about it."

"You were not cool about it."

"I was not cool about it at all," you agree. "But after I processed the news, I managed to calm down a bit. Just a bit.”

"So you're a fan," she says flatly.

"I'm a normal amount of fan. I own zero lightsticks. I have never learned a single fanchant. I just... think the music is good and the performances are impressive. That's all."

"This is very strange."

"The whole situation is strange. We might as well lean into it." The server arrives with your food, breaking the tension. Yujin picks up her fork, pushes a piece of lettuce around her plate, and then, without looking at you, starts talking.

"It's a lot of waiting," she says. "You think it's all performances and music shows and glamour, but mostly it's waiting. Waiting in dressing rooms. Waiting for sound checks. Waiting for the next schedule to start."

You eat quietly, listening, not wanting to interrupt now that she's actually talking.

"And it's exhausting, but not always in the ways you'd expect. The physical stuff is hard, obviously. The dancing, the performances, the dieting. But the mental stuff is worse. You're always on. You can't have a bad day in public because someone will take a photo and suddenly you're 'in crisis' or 'having a breakdown' according to Naver."

"That sounds incredibly stressful."

"You get used to it." She shrugs. "Or you don't, and then you quit. There's no middle ground."

"What are you working on right now? New album? Comeback?"

"We have some things in the works. I can't really talk about specifics."

"Fair enough." You don't push. You've already gotten more out of her than you expected. "Secret idol business. I respect it."

She looks at you for a long moment, trying to figure out your angle. You don't have one, but she doesn't know that yet.

"You're strange," she says eventually.

"I'll take that as a compliment."

"It wasn't meant as one."

"I'm taking it as one anyway." You grin at her, and she rolls her eyes, turning her attention back to her salad.

Dinner goes by a little awkwardly, but not nearly as hostile as you thought it would be, which you consider a win. She answers your questions about idol life in vague, careful terms, giving you just enough to keep the conversation going. You tell her more stories about your disasters at work. She doesn’t laugh at any of them. But she also doesn’t tell you to shut up. And when the dinner ends and you both stand to go your separate ways, she pauses at the door and looks back at you.

"You really meant it?" she asks. "About respecting what I asked for?"

"I really meant it."

She nods once, and then she's gone, disappearing into the night with her security trailing behind her. You stand there in the empty private room, heart still beating a little too fast, and think about the fact that in two weeks, you're going to be married to Ahn Yujin.

She doesn't want you. She doesn't trust you. She's already planning the divorce. But she talked to you. For almost two hours, she sat across from you and talked.

It's not much. But it's a start.

—

The penthouse is stupid nice. Floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking Seoul, sleek minimalist furniture, a kitchen with appliances you're pretty sure you'll never figure out how to use. Your family and hers went all out on this place, a monument to the merger of two dynasties disguised as a marriage.

You've been traveling for the past week. Work stuff, mostly. A conference in San Francisco where you presented some research and shook some hands. You'd texted Yujin exactly twice during that time: once to let her know your flight landed safely (she'd responded with a single thumbs up emoji), and once to ask if she needed you to bring anything back from the States (she'd responded "no thank you" and nothing else). Riveting communication. Really building that foundation of marital intimacy. Now you're standing in the doorway of what is technically your home, your shared home, with your suitcase in one hand and a carry-on bag slung over your shoulder, and Yujin is sitting on the massive sectional sofa in the living room, her legs tucked underneath her, scrolling through her phone.

You can't help yourself.

"Honey, I'm home!"

Yujin looks up from her phone. Her expression doesn't change. Not a smile, not a frown, just that flat, unimpressed stare that you're starting to think might be her default setting around you. She's wearing an oversized gray hoodie that swallows her frame and black sweatpants, her face bare of any makeup; comfortable and devastatingly pretty.

"That's not funny," she says.

"Yeah, I felt that one die in the air," you admit, dragging your suitcase inside and closing the door behind you. "Won't try it again. Lesson learned." You drop your bags in the corner near the entryway, making a mental note to actually unpack at some point instead of just living out of your suitcase like you did for most of your twenties.

From your carry-on, you pull out a heavy object wrapped in a soft cloth. You unwrap it carefully, revealing a crystal trophy mounted on a dark wooden base. You carry it over to the living room, setting it on one of the built-in shelves next to a decorative vase.

Yujin watches you with mild curiosity, her phone temporarily forgotten. "What is that?"

"Oh, this?" You step back, admiring the placement. "It's an award. The Grace Hopper Award, specifically. They give it out for outstanding contributions to computing by people under a certain age."

"What did you do to get it?"

"I developed this new approach to distributed database architecture. Basically figured out a way to make large-scale systems handle data synchronization more efficiently without the typical bottlenecks." You shrug, feeling suddenly self-conscious under her gaze. "It sounds boring when I say it out loud, but it actually ended up being pretty useful. A lot of major tech companies use variations of the protocol now. Helps with everything from cloud storage to real-time financial transactions."

"So you're a genius." The way she says it isn't quite a compliment. It's more like she's filing away information, updating some internal profile she's been building about you since that first dinner.

"No, definitely not." You shake your head, settling onto the opposite end of the sectional, leaving a careful distance between you. "I just got lucky with timing. The problem I was working on happened to be something a lot of people were struggling with at the same time, so when I published my solution, it got a lot of attention. Right place, right moment. Half of success in tech is just that."

She doesn't respond, just looks at you for a long moment before turning her attention back to her phone. The two of you, sitting on opposite ends of a very expensive couch in a very expensive apartment that neither of you asked for, legally bound to each other by a ceremony that happened five days ago.

"This is strange," you say eventually.

Yujin lets out a small breath that might almost be a laugh. "Yeah. It is."

"Not the strangest thing that's happened recently though." You lean back into the cushions, staring up at the ceiling. "The wedding was weirder. This is just... aftermath weirdness. Secondary weirdness."

"The wedding was..." She trails off, seeming to search for the right word. "Surreal."

That's one way to put it. The ceremony had been held at a private estate outside of Seoul, a place that old-money families use for exactly these types of events: weddings that need to happen but can't be seen. Guest list strictly controlled. No phones allowed inside. Every attendee signing NDAs before they could even step through the gates. Because Ahn Yujin getting married is not something that can leak. Not yet. The industry would lose its collective mind. You remember standing at the altar (if you could call it that, it was more like an extremely fancy wooden arch covered in white flowers), watching her walk toward you in a wedding dress. She'd looked unreal, easily the most beautiful girl you've ever seen in your entire life.

She'd also looked like she wanted to be anywhere else on the planet.

"You looked beautiful," you say. "At the wedding, I mean. In the dress. It's just an observation. Not hitting on you. Just stating a fact. The dress was nice. You looked nice in it. Factual statement. Journalism."

She gives you a look that clearly communicates she thinks you're an idiot.

"Okay," she says slowly.

"Sorry. I'm awkward. You've probably noticed."

"I've noticed."

Another silence. You drum your fingers on your knee, trying to think of something to say that won't make things worse. It's harder than it should be. Normally you're good at talking. But with Yujin, every word feels weighted. Like you're being evaluated. "Look on the bright side," you try. "It could be worse."

She turns to face you more fully, one eyebrow raised in that skeptical way she has. "How could it be worse than an arranged marriage?"

"Well." You sit up, warming to the topic now that you've committed to it. "Both of our families could be involved in occult rituals. That's a classic old-money thing. Secret societies, weird ceremonies in the woods, chanting around fires. You know. Like in Eyes Wide Shut."

She stares at you blankly.

"The Kubrick movie? Tom Cruise? Nicole Kidman?"

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Okay, that's fair, it's kind of an old reference. My point is, compared to being initiated into a secret cabal or having to participate in a human sacrifice, a regular arranged marriage is pretty tame. At least we just had to sign some papers and wear fancy clothes. No one made us put on deer heads or drink weird ceremonial wine or pledge our souls to an ancient deity."

"Although," you continue, "the deer head thing would have been kind of cool, aesthetically speaking. Great Instagram content if we were allowed to post it.'"

"You're being weird. Again.”

"I'm trying to be funny."

"Those are the same thing with you."

You laugh. That was almost a joke. An insult-shaped joke, but still. "Fair enough. I'll stop."

She shakes her head slightly, returning her gaze to her phone.

"You don't need to try so hard," she says, not looking at you. "To be funny or charming or whatever it is you think you're doing. We have an agreement. You just need to respect it. That's all."

"I know."

"Then stop... performing. It's exhausting to watch."

Hearing her say that stung a bit. You weren't performing, not really. You were just being yourself, the version of yourself that fills awkward silences with dumb jokes and rambling tangents. But she doesn't want that version of you. She doesn't want any version of you, really. She just wants you to exist quietly in your designated corner of this penthouse, fulfilling the terms of a contract you both signed under pressure.

"Yeah." You stand up. "You're right. Sorry. I'm just... I'm gonna go check out my room. Maybe get some sleep. Long flight and all that."

She doesn't respond, which is fine. You didn't expect her to.

You grab your bags from where you left them near the door, slinging the carry-on over your shoulder and dragging the suitcase behind you. The hallway that leads to the bedrooms is long and impeccably decorated, more art on the walls, more tasteful lighting, more evidence of money being thrown at the problem of making a living space feel "curated." Your room is the second door on the left. Hers is the last door at the end of the hall. Maximum distance. She probably planned that.

You're heading down the hallway when her voice stops you.

"I made dinner."

You turn around. She's still sitting on the couch, still looking at her phone, but she's half-turned in your direction.

"Earlier. When I was... anyway. There's leftovers in the fridge if you get hungry."

A small smile appears on your face. It's nothing, really. Just a practical statement. She made food, there's extra, she's informing you of its existence like any roommate would. It doesn't mean anything.

"Thank you," you say. "Really. That's... thanks, Yujin."

She nods once, quick and dismissive, and turns back to her phone.

You stand there for a moment longer, watching the curve of her profile in the soft evening light. The way her hair falls loose from the bun, framing her face. The way her fingers move across the screen. The way she exists in this space that's supposed to be yours too.

Part of you wants to go back, sit down, try again. Find the right words that would make her see you as something other than an obligation.

But she asked you to stop performing. So you do.

You turn away, cross the hallway, and go into your bedroom.

Later, around midnight, you get up and pad quietly to the kitchen. You find the leftovers in the fridge, neatly stored in containers, and you heat up a plate of bibimbap that tastes better than anything you've eaten in days.

You eat standing at the kitchen counter, alone, in the dark, and you think about the fact that she made enough for two.

—

One month of marriage and almost nothing has changed. Yujin still retreats to her room the moment she gets home. You still eat most of your meals alone at the kitchen counter. Conversation is rare, functional, limited to things like "I'll be late tonight" or "There's milk in the fridge if you want some" or "Your package arrived, I left it by your door." It's not hostile anymore, not quite. It's just... distant. Two people sharing a very expensive living space.

But you're getting used to it. That's the strange part. You're getting used to waking up and knowing that somewhere in this penthouse, Ahn Yujin is also waking up. You're getting used to seeing her mug in the sink (she drinks her coffee black, you've noticed, which feels like information you shouldn't find as interesting as you do). You're getting used to the sound of her moving around at odd hours, the quiet pad of her footsteps in the hallway when she comes home late from schedules, the muffled sound of whatever show she watches before she falls asleep.

You're getting used to being married to an idol. Even if she barely acknowledges you exist.

Today, though, you decided to do something different.

IVE has a concert. Not a huge arena tour thing, but a smaller showcase event, the kind that gets broadcast online and brings in a few thousand lucky fans. You don't have a ticket, but you do have something better: a last name that opens doors and a family connection to Starship Entertainment.

Which is how you ended up backstage, in the dressing room, surrounded by five of the most famous young women in South Korea, all of whom are currently treating you like you're the most fascinating person they've ever met.

“My turn to sign now!” Leesseo says, snatching the pen from Rei’s hand to sign the album you’re holding. "I want to sign the page with my solo photo. It's my best one.”

"They're all your best one," Rei says from beside her. She's already signed one of your photocards. "You say that about every photo."

"Because it's true!"

Wonyoung laugh, and you have to remind yourself not to stare because holy shit, she's even more stunning in person, which shouldn't be possible given that she's literally famous for being stunning. She's sitting in front of a mirror, touching up her makeup, but she keeps glancing over at you with those big doe eyes like she's genuinely entertained by your presence.

"He's nice," Gaeul says, nudging Liz with her elbow. "I thought he'd be all stuffy and formal, but he's actually funny."

"Everyone thinks I'm some mysterious tycoon because of my family." You flip through the album Leeseo signed, looking for her solo page. "Old money families are weird, I know. But my family's relatively normal, all things considered, but Yujin's side? Who knows what kind of deer-head ceremonies they get up to."

Liz giggles, covering her mouth with her hand. She's been quieter than the others, but she's been smiling the whole time.

"Deer heads," Leeseo repeats, delighted. "That's so creepy. I love it."

"Right? Great for family photos."

The door to the dressing room opens, and you all turn to look.

Yujin walks in, adjusting the collar of her stage outfit. It's the IVE uniform for this particular performance, a coordinated look in black and silver. Her long legs are on full display, her hair styled in loose waves, her makeup dramatic for the stage lights. She looks incredible, but that's not news. She always looks incredible.

What is news is the expression on her face when she sees you sitting there, surrounded by her group members, holding a stack of signed merchandise.

She stops dead. Her eyes go wide.

"What are you doing here?"

"Hey!" You wave cheerfully. "I came to see the show. Figured I'd say hi to the girls first since I had access."

"You have access?"

"I have a lot of access, actually. Perks of the whole… Situation. The staff were very accommodating once I explained who I was."

She looks at the other members, who are all watching this exchange with poorly concealed amusement, and then back at you.

"He's been telling us about your wedding," Wonyoung offers. "It sounds like it was very... atmospheric."

"Deer heads," Leeseo adds helpfully.

"There were no deer heads at our wedding," Yujin says through gritted teeth.

"Not yet," you say. "But the night is young. Could still happen at the anniversary party."

Rei actually snorts. Liz is hiding her face in her hands, but she can't hide the suppressed sound of her laughter.

"You look amazing, by the way." You stand up, tucking your signed albums and photocards into the bag you brought. "That outfit is really something. I feel like you could kick my ass in that and I would thank you."

Yujin stares at you.

"That's a compliment," you clarify. "To be clear.”

"If you're done getting your things signed," she says with neutral tone of someone who is trying very hard not to strangle you in front of witnesses, "you should probably go. We need to finish getting ready."

"Yeah, of course. Don't want to be in the way." You sling your bag over your shoulder, but before you head for the door, you pull out your phone and show her the case.

There, nestled behind the clear plastic, is one of her photocards. It's from the After Like era, you think, a close-up of her face with that confident expression she does so well. You'd slipped it in there a few weeks ago, partly as a joke and partly because... well, because she's your wife, technically, and it felt weird to not have any evidence of that anywhere in your life.

"It's so strange," you say, looking at the photocard and then at her. "That this is my wife. Like, I have a photocard of my wife in my phone case. That's a real thing that's happening in my life. Wild."

"Stop calling me that."

She grabs your arm, her fingers wrapping around your bicep with strength, and starts steering you toward the door. You go willingly, laughing a little at the absurdity of being physically escorted out of a dressing room by your own wife.

"Good luck tonight!" you call over your shoulder to the other members. "You're all going to be amazing!"

"Thank you!" they chorus back.

At the door, Yujin releases your arm and fixes you with a look.

"You're impossible."

"Probably," you agree. "But I'll be in the audience cheering for you, so that's something. Good luck, Yujin. Really. I know you'll be incredible."

She hesitates. Whatever Yujin was going to say, she gives up. She sighs instead.

"...Thanks."

It's quieter than the thanks she gave you after the dinner. Less reluctant. Almost like she means it.

You grin at her and head down the hallway toward the venue.

—

The show is phenomenal.

You've watched IVE perform before, obviously. Countless times. Music show stages on YouTube, concert fancams, award show performances, but none of that prepared you for the reality of seeing them live.

They're all incredible.

But Yujin.

Yujin is something else entirely.

You watch her, this woman who sleeps in the room down the hall from yours, who leaves her mug in the sink, who made you dinner, and you think: how is this the same person?

How is this goddess on stage the same girl who wears oversized hoodies and falls asleep watching dramas on her phone?

It doesn't make sense. None of this makes sense.

But god, she's amazing.

—

You beat her home by about two hours.

You shower, change into comfortable clothes, and settle onto the couch with your laptop, pretending to work while actually just thinking about the way Yujin looked on stage, the way she moved, the way she smiled at the crowd like she was giving them a gift just by existing.

When the front door finally opens, you look up.

Yujin walks in looking like a different person than the one you saw at the venue. Her stage makeup is mostly gone, you can see the bare-faced exhaustion of someone who just performed for two hours under hot lights. Her hair is pulled back in a low ponytail. She's wearing a simple black tracksuit.

She doesn't say anything. She just walks to the couch, and then she collapses face-first onto the cushions next to you, face buried in the pillows.

"Mmmmmph," she says into the fabric.

"I'm going to interpret that as 'hello, dear husband, lovely to see you.'"

"Mmph."

"You were incredible tonight." You set your laptop aside, turning to face her even though all you can see is the back of her head. "Seriously. I've watched you perform before, but live? Completely different experience. You guys killed it."

She turns her head just enough to free her mouth from the pillow.

"I messed up."

"What? When?"

"Third song. There's a part where we all do a synchronized turn, and I was half a beat late. You could see it if you watch the fancams. It's going to be everywhere by tomorrow."

"Yujin, I was literally there, and I didn't notice anything."

"The fans will notice."

"The fans were too busy losing their minds over how good you looked to care about half a beat." You say it firmly, because it's true. "I'm serious. Nobody's perfect. You had one tiny moment that was slightly off in an entire two-hour show that was otherwise flawless. That's not a failure, that's called being human."

She doesn't respond. Her face is still mostly buried in the pillow.

"You were amazing," you repeat. "Really. I know you don't want to hear it from me, but you were."

A long silence. Then, muffled by the pillow:

"I'm hungry."

"I figured you would be. That's why I ordered your favorite."

Her head comes up. She twists around to look at you, her eyes narrowed with suspicion.

"My favorite?"

"Tteokbokki from that place in Mapo. The one you talked about in that V-Live from like three years ago. And the jjajangmyeon from the restaurant you mentioned in your last magazine interview, the one where you said it reminds you of your mom's cooking."

She stares at you.

"How do you know all that?"

"I did research." You shrug like it's nothing. "Took me maybe five minutes. You've done a lot of interviews, and you mention food pretty often. It wasn't hard to figure out."

You get up before she can say anything, heading to the kitchen where the delivery containers are waiting.

"Come on. Sit at the table. I'll serve you."

You hear her following you, her footsteps slow and tired. By the time she settles into one of the dining chairs, you've already got the containers open, plating the food in a way that looks semi-presentable.

"You don't have to keep doing this," she says.

You set the plate in front of her. Tteokbokki glistening with red sauce, jjajangmyeon dark and savory beside it. Her favorites.

"Doing what?"

"Trying to please me." She looks up at you. "I told you. You don't need to—"

"I'm not trying to please you."

"I'm not," you repeat, sitting down across from her. "Look, if I was trying to please you, I would have made all of this myself. I would have spent hours in the kitchen, slaving over a hot stove, putting my heart and soul into every dish. I would have lit candles and put on romantic music and made it this whole big thing."

You gesture at the delivery containers still sitting on the counter.

"This? This took me five minutes of Googling and one phone call. It's literally the least amount of effort I could have put in while still technically feeding you. If anything, this meal is proof that I don't care about you at all."

She stares at you.

"In fact," you continue, "this meal is an insult. By ordering delivery instead of cooking, I'm basically telling you that you're not worth my time."

Something happens to Yujin's face.

It starts at the corners of her mouth. A tiny twitch. Then her lips press together, like she's trying to hold something in. Her shoulders shake once, twice.

And then she laughs.

It's not a big laugh. But it's real. Her eyes crinkle up, and her whole face changes, softening into something warm and bright and so beautiful it makes you smile a bit.

"Okay," she says, still fighting back giggles. "So I'm eating a meal prepared by my husband who hates me."

"Exactly. Glad we're on the same page."

"And you put absolutely no thought into this."

"Zero thought. Well, five minutes of thought. That's basically nothing."

She picks up her chopsticks, still smiling. It's a

small smile, but it's there.

"This is very cruel of you."

"I know. I'm a monster."

"A terrible husband."

"The worst. Truly. I didn't even research what dessert you like, so I just ordered whatever I felt like. You're going to have to suffer through some random cake that I chose entirely for my own selfish enjoyment."

She takes a bite of the tteokbokki, and you watch her close her eyes, savoring it.

"You're impossible," she murmurs around the food.

"So I've been told."

"This is really good, though."

"Don't thank me. I hate you, remember? The good food is a coincidence."

She laughs again and keeps eating.

You sit there across from her, watching her enjoy the meal you ordered, watching the tension slowly drain from her shoulders as she relaxes into the comfort of good food.

She doesn't thank you. She doesn't tell you she appreciates it.

But she's laughing. She's eating. She's sitting at the table with you instead of retreating to her room.

It's not much.

But it's more than yesterday.

—

The routine shifts in ways so small you almost don't notice them at first.

It starts with mornings. For the first few weeks of this arrangement, you and Yujin moved around each other like ghosts, careful to never occupy the same space at the same time. She would wake early, shower, make her coffee, and be gone before you even opened your bedroom door. Or you would stumble into the kitchen at seven a.m. only to find evidence that she'd already been there and left: a rinsed mug in the sink, the coffee maker still warm, the faint trace of her shampoo lingering in the air.

But somewhere around the two-month mark, that starts to change.

You come out of your room one Tuesday morning and she's still there. Sitting at the kitchen island in an oversized t-shirt and shorts, her long bare legs dangling from the high stool while she scrolls through her phone and sips from her mug. She glances up when she hears you, and instead of immediately finding an excuse to leave, she just nods.

"Morning."

"Morning." You head for the coffee maker, trying to act like this is normal. "You're up late today."

"Schedule got pushed back. Don't have to be at the company until eleven."

"Nice. Rare day off?"

"Something like that."

And that's it. That's the whole conversation. But she doesn't leave. She stays there at the counter, scrolling through her phone, occasionally making small noises of amusement or annoyance at whatever she's reading, while you make your coffee and toast and sit down across from her to eat.

It happens again the next week. And the week after that.

Pretty soon it becomes something like a routine. On the days when her schedule allows it, you have breakfast in the same room. Sometimes you talk. Mostly you don't. But the silence isn't uncomfortable anymore. It's just... quiet. Peaceful, even.

The warmer weather brings its own changes.

April slides into May, and Seoul starts to heat up in that oppressive way it does every year, the humidity settling over the city. The penthouse has excellent air conditioning, obviously, but Yujin still dresses for the warmth even indoors. You come home one evening after work to find her stretched out on the couch in tiny cotton shorts and a loose tank top.

You stop in the doorway, bag still over your shoulder, and for a moment you just... look.

She's not doing anything special. Just lying there, watching something on her tablet, one hand idly twirling a strand of hair around her finger. But god, she's beautiful. The late afternoon light coming through the windows catches the curve of her cheekbone, the fullness of her lips, the elegant line of her throat. Her tank top has ridden up slightly, exposing a strip of stomach that's flat and firm.

"You're staring."

Her voice startles you. She hasn't looked away from her tablet, but there's a knowing tilt to the corner of her mouth.

"Sorry." You clear your throat, forcing yourself to move, to set down your bag, to act like a normal person instead of a creep caught ogling his wife. "Got distracted. Long day. Brain's not working right."

"Mmhm."

She doesn't seem bothered by it. A month ago, she would have tensed up, would have pulled a blanket over herself or left the room entirely. Now she just keeps watching her show, comfortable in her own skin, comfortable with you in her space.

That's something. That's a lot, actually.

The conversations come more frequently now. Still not deep, soul-baring exchanges, but real conversations. She asks about your work sometimes, and you try to explain it in terms that don't make her eyes glaze over (you're getting better at this, you think, although she still looks mildly confused whenever you mention distributed systems architecture). She tells you about her schedules, the variety shows she's filming, the upcoming comeback that's keeping her at the practice room until midnight most nights. She complains about her manager and laughs at your jokes (occasionally, not always, but occasionally) and once, when you made ramyeon at two in the morning because neither of you could sleep, she sat across from you at the kitchen counter and told you about her trainee days, about how hard it was, about how many times she wanted to quit.

You just listened, and when she was done talking, you said "I'm glad you didn't quit," and she looked at you with something soft in her eyes and said "Yeah. Me too."

You're falling in love with her.

You can admit it to yourself now, in the privacy of your own head. You're falling in love with your wife, which should be a normal thing but feels absolutely insane given the circumstances.

You're falling in love with the way she scrunches her nose when she's concentrating. With the way she hums under her breath when she's cooking (she's started cooking more often, actual meals instead of just delivery). With the way she looks in the morning, soft and sleepy, before she puts on her idol armor and goes out to face the world.

You're falling in love with her, and she still thinks this is just an arrangement, a business transaction, a temporary inconvenience that will end as soon as your families lose interest.

You don't know what to do about that. So you do nothing. You just keep being there, keep respecting her boundaries, keep making her laugh when you can, and hope that somehow, someday, something changes.

—

The family dinner is at your parents' estate, which means it's going to be insufferable.

You know this going in. Your mother has planned these things before, and they always follow the same script: too much food, too much wine that makes the conversation increasingly awkward, and too many pointed questions about when you and your lovely wife are going to start thinking about children. The Ahns will be there too, of course, which means Yujin has to contend with her own set of parental expectations while simultaneously pretending to be madly in love with you.

Fun times.

The car ride over is quiet. Yujin sits beside you in the backseat, her posture perfect, her makeup flawless, her dress a deep burgundy number that makes her look like she belongs at a film premiere. She's staring out the window, watching the city roll by.

"Hey." You reach over, not quite touching her, just letting your hand rest on the seat between you. "We've got this. A few hours of performance, and then we're out."

"You're good at this," she says. "The pretending. Sometimes I forget you're actually faking it."

You're not sure how to take that, so you just smile and say "Years of practice. Board meetings, investor presentations, family gatherings. It's all the same skill set. Smile, nod, say what they want to hear."

"That's depressing."

"Welcome to generational wealth. We're all dead inside."

That gets a tiny crack of a smile from her, which you count as a win.

The dinner itself is exactly as painful as you expected. Your mother spends the first hour asking Yujin invasive questions about her diet and exercise routine (because apparently being an idol means everyone thinks they're entitled to know exactly what you put in your body). Your father and Mr. Ahn talk business in that boring, self-important way that rich men always do, while your older brother (who got to marry for love, the lucky bastard) keeps shooting you sympathetic looks from across the table.

You and Yujin play your parts perfectly. You hold her hand when the parents are watching. You call her "honey" and "sweetheart" in that slightly-too-sweet way that married couples do. When your mother asks about your relationship, you tell a carefully rehearsed story about how you knew she was special from the moment you met her, which is technically true even if the circumstances were nothing like what you're implying.

Yujin leans into you, rests her head briefly on your shoulder, laughs at the right moments. She's a better actress than you expected, honestly. She makes it look effortless.

Halfway through dessert, you feel her fingers squeeze yours under the table. You glance over, and she leans in close, her lips brushing your ear.

"Do you want to get out of here?"

"What?"

"I can't do another hour of this. My mother is about to start asking about grandchildren, I can feel it coming, and if I have to answer that question one more time I'm going to scream. So do you want to get out of here or not?"

"Yes." You don't even hesitate. "God, yes. Please."

She pulls back, her expression smoothly transitioning back into that loving-wife mask, and stands up from the table.

"I'm so sorry, everyone." She's addressing the whole table, but her hand is still in yours, tugging you gently to your feet. "I'm feeling a bit under the weather. I think we need to head home early."

Your mother makes concerned noises. Mr. Ahn frowns slightly. But nobody argues with an idol who says she's not feeling well, because everyone knows how grueling their schedules are and how important it is for them to rest.

Five minutes later, you're in the car, pulling away from the estate, and you both let out matching sighs of relief.

"Oh my god." Yujin slumps back against the seat, all the rigid posture draining out of her in an instant. "That was unbearable."

"Your mom definitely had the grandchildren speech locked and loaded."

"She's been practicing it for months. I can tell."

You laugh, and after a second, she laughs too.

The car is heading toward the penthouse, but on impulse, you lean forward and tap on the partition, asking the driver to pull over somewhere in Hongdae instead. Yujin gives you a questioning look.

"We just escaped a torture session," you explain. "Seems like a waste to go straight home. Let's walk around for a bit. Clear our heads."

She considers this for a moment. Then, slowly, she nods. "Yeah. Okay."

—

Hongdae at night is a different world.

The streets are crowded with university students and tourists and buskers. Neon signs glow pink and blue and green, and everywhere you look there's movement, life, energy. It's the opposite of the stuffy formality of your family's estate, and you can feel yourself relaxing into it.

Yujin walks beside you, her heels replaced with the flats she'd stashed in her bag (smart woman, always prepared), her designer dress looking slightly out of place among the casual crowd. But no one recognizes her. That's the thing about being famous in a country of fifty million people: unless you're actively promoting, unless you're on a stage or in a venue where people expect to see you, you can disappear into the crowd pretty easily. Just another tall, beautiful woman walking the streets of Seoul.

"Thank you," she says suddenly.

You glance over at her. She's looking straight ahead, not meeting your eyes.

"For what?"

"For... all of it. For playing along at dinner. For getting me out of there. For not being..." She trails off, searching for the word. "For not being what I expected you to be."

You're quiet for a moment, not sure how to respond to that. "What did you expect me to be?"

"I don't know. Entitled. Demanding. The kind of guy who would see this arrangement as an opportunity to get what he wants from someone who can't say no. That's what rich guys are usually like, in my experience."

"I'm sorry you've had enough experiences with rich guys to have a usual."

"It comes with the territory. Being an idol means being a commodity. Everyone wants a piece of you. And the people with money and power think that means they're entitled to whatever piece they want."

"I'm not going to pretend I'm some perfect guy with no flaws," you say quietly. "But I meant what I said at that first dinner. Your boundaries are your boundaries. I'm not here to push them. I'm just here to... I don't know. Make this situation as okay as it can be, I guess."

"You're different," she says softly. "You really are."

You don't know what to say to that, so you don't say anything. You just keep walking, side by side, through the neon-lit streets of Hongdae.

At some point, she links her arm through yours. Casually, like it's nothing. Like she's done it a hundred times before.

Your heart is going to explode. You're almost certain of it.

"I want to go home," she says eventually, after you've wandered past street vendors and coffee shops and a guy playing guitar so beautifully that you both stopped to listen for a few minutes. "But I don't want the night to be over yet."

"What do you want to do?"

"Watch a movie. With you. On the couch, like normal people."

You stare at her. "Really?"

"Don't make it weird."

"I'm not making it weird. You're making it weird by suggesting we do something normal like a normal married couple."

"We are a married couple."

"On paper."

"On paper counts."

She's smiling now, that small, private smile that you've only seen a handful of times since this whole arrangement started.

"Okay," you say. "Movie night. Let's do it."

—

When you two get back to the penthouse, Yujin disappears into her room to change out of her dress, and you do the same, trading your suit for sweatpants and an old university hoodie.

When you emerge, she's already on the couch. She's wearing that oversized gray hoodie again, the one from your first night in the apartment together, her legs curled underneath her, her face scrubbed clean of makeup. She looks like she belongs here.

She looks like someone you could love for the rest of your life.

"Stop staring and pick a movie," she says, without looking away from the TV.

"You pick. I'm terrible at choosing. I'll spend thirty minutes scrolling through options and then give up and watch The Office again."

"The Office is for people with no taste."

"Excuse you, The Office is the pinnacle of comedy."

"No one actually likes The Office; people just pretend to like it because everyone else does. Same with Friends."

"Okay, first of all, how dare you."

She laughs, that real laugh that you love so much, and grabs the remote.

You settle onto the couch beside her. Not too close, still respecting the invisible boundary that's always been between you, but closer than you would have dared a month ago. She scrolls through the streaming options, making dismissive noises at most of the suggestions, until finally she lands on something.

"This one."

"A romance?"

"You have a problem with romance?"

"No, I just... I didn't peg you as a romance movie person."

"There's a lot you don't know about me." She presses play, and the opening credits start. "Now shut up and watch."

You shut up and watch.

The movie is fine. It's sweet and predictable and has exactly the kind of ending you'd expect from a romantic comedy. But you're not really paying attention to the plot, because about halfway through, Yujin shifts on the couch and leans slightly in your direction, and by the time the credits roll, her head is resting against your shoulder.

You don't move. You barely breathe.

"That was good," she murmurs, not lifting her head.

"Yeah,” you agree. "It was."

You stay like that for a while, neither of you moving, neither of you acknowledging what's happening. The credits finish. The TV auto-plays some trailer for another movie. The night deepens outside the windows. Exhaustion calls.

Eventually, she stirs.

"I should go to bed."

"Yeah." You still don't move. "Me too."

She lifts her head, and for a moment she's so close you can see every detail of her face: the slight flush on her cheeks, the way her lips are parted just slightly, the way her eyes search yours like she's looking for something.

"Goodnight," she says softly.

"Goodnight, Yujin."

She stands, stretches, and pads toward her bedroom. At her door, she pauses and looks back at you.

"Tonight was nice."

"Yeah." You smile at her, that helpless, hopeless smile you can't seem to control around her anymore. "It was."

She disappears into her room, and you sit there on the couch in the dark, heart pounding, replaying every moment of the evening in your head.

She leaned on your shoulder. She chose to spend time with you. She said tonight was nice.

How are you supposed to sleep after all of that? Yeah, you won’t.

But you’ll end up daydreaming about her.

—

You've been planning this for weeks.

It started with a group chat. You got the IVE members’ numbers specifically for this occasion. Yujin’s birthday was coming up, and there’s nothing better than a surprise planned by the people she loves most in this world - oh, and you too, of course.

The hardest part was getting the members to lie to her all day.

You know it worked because Yujin texted you around four in the afternoon, a rare occurrence. "Everyone's busy today. Weird timing." That was all she said, but you could read the disappointment between the lines. Her birthday, and all her closest friends had excuses for why they couldn't see her.

You texted back: "That sucks. Want me to order dinner for when you get home?"

"Sure. Whatever you want."

Whatever you want. Like she'd given up on the day already.

God, you hope this works.

Now it's almost eight, Yujin must be coming back from a photoshoot. The penthouse looks nothing like it did this morning. Rei went absolutely wild with the decorations: streamers in IVE's colors, pink and purple. Balloons clustered in the corners, a banner across the living room that says "HAPPY BIRTHDAY YUJIN" in glittery letters. The kitchen counter is covered in food (too much food, but the girls insisted), and there's a cake in the center with Yujin's name written in elegant script.

"She's gonna cry," Leeseo says confidently, bouncing on her heels near the door. "I'm calling it now. Tears. Guaranteed."

"She doesn't cry," Gaeul says, but she sounds uncertain.

"She's going to cry," Wonyoung agrees. "I've seen her cry at puppy videos. She's a secret softie."

The elevator light flicks on. Someone is coming up. Everyone scrambles into position, ducking behind furniture and pressing themselves against walls, and suddenly the penthouse is silent except for the sound of six people trying very hard not to giggle.

You're standing near the back, heart pounding stupidly fast. This is either going to be amazing or a complete disaster. There's no in-between.

The elevator doors slide open and Yujin walks in, she's wearing a hoodie and sweatpants, super casual, her hair slightly windswept, her expression tired and a little sad. She reaches for the light switch.

"SURPRISE!"

The lights flood on. Six voices scream in unison. Confetti (Leeseo's contribution, she'd insisted) explodes from somewhere, raining down in a glittering cascade.

Yujin freezes.

For a long moment, she doesn't react at all. She just stands there, eyes wide, mouth slightly open, staring at the scene in front of her: her five groupmates and her husband, surrounded by decorations and food and a pink cake, all of them grinning at her like idiots.

Then her face crumples.

"Oh my god,” she murmurs softly. "Oh my god, you guys."

"Told you," Leeseo whispers triumphantly, and then Yujin is being swarmed by her members, all of them hugging her at once.

You hang back, watching. This isn't your moment. This is theirs. The six of them, this family they've built together through years of training and debuting and performing, through scandals and comebacks and everything in between. You're just the guy who happens to live here.

But then Yujin's eyes find yours over Wonyoung's shoulder.

"You did this?"

"I had help." You shrug, trying to play it cool even though your heart is threatening to beat out of your chest. "The girls did most of the work. I just provided the venue."

"He's lying," Rei says immediately. "He planned the whole thing. Made a spreadsheet and everything."

"There was a spreadsheet?" Yujin's lips twitch.

"A very detailed spreadsheet," Liz confirms.

"I'm a project manager by nature. It's a curse."

Yujin laughs, and suddenly she's crossing the room toward you. Before you can process what's happening, she's hugging you. Her arms wrap around your neck, her body pressing against yours, and she's warm and she smells like whatever perfume she wore for the photoshoot and you forget how to breathe.

"Thank you," she murmurs against your ear. "Really. Thank you."

"Happy birthday, Yujin."

Then Leeseo is tugging her toward the cake and the moment breaks.

The party is everything you hoped it would be.

There's food (so much food, you're going to be eating leftovers for a week), drinks and music playing from someone's phone connected to the penthouse's sound system. The girls take over the living room, sprawled across furniture, passing bottles around, catching up on gossip and inside jokes that you only half understand.

You stay on the periphery, mostly, content to watch. But they keep pulling you in. Gaeul demands to know your opinion on their latest choreography (you tell her it's incredible, which it is). Rei asks about your work with genuine curiosity. Wonyoung corners you at one point to interrogate you about your intentions toward Yujin, and even though her tone is light, you can tell she's serious underneath.

"I just want her to be happy," you tell her honestly. "Whatever that looks like. Even if it's not with me."

Wonyoung studies you for a long moment, then she finally says: "You really mean that."

"I really do."

"Good. Because if you hurt her, I know people.” You weren't expecting a veiled threat coming specifically from Wonyoung, but it's okay, you totally understand.

"I don't doubt that for a second."

Gifts happen somewhere around the third bottle of soju. The members have gone in together on some things: expensive skincare, a designer bag Yujin has apparently been eyeing for months, a framed photo of all six of them that makes Yujin tear up again. Individual gifts too, each one more thoughtful than the last, each one proof of how well these girls know each other.

Then it's your turn.

You hand her a small wrapped box, nervous in a way you haven't been all night.

"It's not as good as what they got you. I just... I noticed you mentioned it once, in an old interview, and I thought maybe..."

She unwraps it carefully, and her breath catches.

It's a music box. Antique, ornate, pretty vintage. You'd tracked it down through an absolutely absurd number of phone calls and internet searches, because she'd mentioned once, in a magazine interview from two years ago, that her grandmother used to have one just like it and she'd always loved the sound it made.

She opens it. A soft, tinkling melody fills the room.

"How did you..." She's staring at it, not looking up. "I only mentioned this once. Years ago."

"I did research." You explain, making light of it. "Remember? I'm good at research."

She looks up at you then, and her eyes are shining, and for a second you think she might cry again.

"You're impossible," she whispers.

"Yeah, you've told me that a few times.”

The party continues. More drinking. More laughter. More of the members giving you significant looks that you pretend not to notice.

Yujin gets drunk.

You've never seen her drunk before. Tipsy, maybe, that one time after a family dinner when she had an extra glass of wine, but never fully, properly drunk. It transforms her. All the careful control she usually maintains just... melts away.

"You know what," she announces at one point, pointing at you with a half-empty soju bottle. "You know what."

"What?"

"You still don't have my autograph. On your IVE stuff. You have everyone else's. But not mine."

"You've refused to sign anything every time I've asked."

"Well, I'm signing it now." She makes grabby hands at you. "Give me. Give me the things. I'm going to sign everything. Right now."

"You're drunk."

"I'm the birthday girl and I want to sign your stuff. Get it."

You get it. You’ve been carrying her photocard in your phone case for months, waiting for this moment to finally happen (pathetic? maybe, but you prefer to think of it as prepared), and you also grab the album from that backstage visit, the one with everyone's signature except hers.

She signs with a flourish, her handwriting messier than usual but still legible, adding a little heart next to her name.

"There." She shoves the photocard back at you, looking immensely satisfied. "Now you have the complete set. Collector's item. Very valuable."

"I'll treasure it forever."

"You better."

Slowly, the party winds down. Leeseo is the first to leave (early schedule tomorrow, she claims, though she looks devastated to miss out). Liz and Rei go together, Rei practically carrying Liz who has apparently had more soju than anyone realized. Gaeul hugs Yujin for a long time, whispering something in her ear that makes Yujin laugh and blush simultaneously. Wonyoung is last, lingering at the door, giving you one final assessing look before she disappears into the night.

And then it's just you and Yujin.

The penthouse now settles into silence, the post-party exhaustion wrapping itself around the two of you, but it's a strangely good feeling. The decorations are still up, confetti scattered across the floor, empty bottles lined up on the counter. Yujin is on the couch, her legs tucked under her, her cheeks flushed pink from the alcohol, her eyes slightly unfocused but still bright.

"That was, hmm… nice," she says, almost inaudible. "Really nice. I can't believe you did all that."

"You deserved it." You're cleaning up a little, gathering plates, trying to keep your hands busy so you don't do something stupid like stare at her all night. "You work so hard. You should get to celebrate."

"Mmm." She's quiet for a moment, watching you move around the room. Then: "You know what I keep thinking about?"

"What?"

"How things could be different." She says it quietly. "Under other circumstances. You know?"

You stop. Set down the plates you're holding. Turn to look at her.

"What do you mean?"

She blinks, and suddenly she looks embarrassed, like she didn't mean to say that out loud. The flush on her cheeks deepens.

"Nothing. I don't know. Ignore me. I'm drunk."

"Yujin."

"I just mean..." She's fidgeting with the hem of her hoodie, not meeting your eyes. "If we'd met differently. If this wasn't... if our families hadn't... I don't know. Maybe things would be..."

"Fuck it. Come here," she says suddenly, changing the subject with all the grace of a drunk person trying to avoid an awkward conversation. "I want a hug. Birthday girl privileges. Come here."

You cross the room toward her, heart pounding. She stands up from the couch, unsteady on her feet, reaching out for you.

And then her foot catches on the edge of the rug.

It happens in slow motion. Her eyes go wide. She lurches forward. You try to catch her, but her momentum is too much, and suddenly you're both falling backward, tumbling onto the couch. She lands on top of you. All of her. Her body pressed against yours, her face inches away, her hair falling around you like.

"Oops." She laughs.

"You okay?"

"I'm great." She's grinning down at you. "Are you okay? I probably squished you."

"I’m not the strongest guy in the world, but I can handle the weight of a Yujin on top of me.”

She doesn't move to get up. Neither do you. You're very aware of everywhere her body is touching yours. Her hips against your hips. Her chest against your chest. Her hands braced on either side of your head.

"You've been so nice to me," she murmurs. "This whole time. So patient. So kind. Even when I was terrible to you."

"You weren't terrible."

"I was a little terrible."

"Maybe a little. But I understood why."

She's quiet for a moment. Her eyes drop to your lips. Then back up to your eyes.

"I want to give you a reward," she says softly. "For being nice. For doing all this. For... for being you."

"Yujin, you don't have to—"

She kisses you.

Her lips press against yours, tasting faintly of soju. You're trying not to make any embarrassing sounds, but it's harder than it looks. She's really kissing you. Ahn Yujin, your wife, the woman you've been falling in love with for months, is kissing you on the couch in your shared penthouse on her birthday. It's hard to believe, but the taste of her in your mouth is very, very real.

It only lasts a few seconds. Then she pulls back, looking at you with hazy, happy eyes.

"There," she whispers. "A reward. For being the best fake husband ever."

You don't have words. You literally cannot form words. Your entire vocabulary has abandoned you.

She settles against you, her head dropping to rest on your chest, her body relaxing into yours. She's so warm. So soft. So close.

“Let’s stay like this,” she says softly, growing drowsy. “Just a little longer. You’re comfortable.”

"Okay. Okay, Yujin." That's all you can say.

She hums contentedly, nuzzling closer, and within minutes her breathing evens out. She's asleep. Passed out on your chest like a cat that's found the perfect sunny spot. You lie there, barely daring to move, one hand coming up to gently stroke her hair. It's soft. Everything about her is soft, when she lets herself be.

"I hope you don't regret this in the morning," you murmur into the quiet of the penthouse.

She doesn't stir. Just keeps sleeping, her breath warm against your neck, her body a comfortable weight on yours. You close your eyes and let yourself have this. Just for tonight. Just this once.

—

The morning after her birthday, you wake up with a crick in your neck and Yujin still draped across your chest.

You don't move. You barely breathe. Yujin's hair is spread across your shoulder in a dark wave, and her breathing is slow and even against your collarbone. She's still asleep. Still here. Still warm and soft and real.

Then she stirs.

You feel the exact moment she wakes up. Her body tenses, her breathing changes, and there's a beat of absolute stillness where you're certain she's going to bolt. Going to pull away, apologize, retreat behind her walls and pretend last night never happened.

Instead, she lifts her head and looks at you with sleepy, slightly bloodshot eyes.

"Hi," she says, sounding rough from sleep and alcohol.

"Hi."

"I kissed you last night," she says.

"You did."

"I remember."

"Do you regret it?"

She takes a while to answer; you don't know if it's for dramatic effect or if she's weighing the importance of what she's about to say.

"No," she says finally. "I don't regret it."

You exhale, releasing all the air you were holding in.

"But," she continues, and there it is, the caveat you'd been waiting for, "don't get too emotional about it. Okay? I'm not saying... I'm not promising anything. I just think maybe we could... take things slowly. See what happens."

"Slowly," you repeat.

"Slowly. I need time to figure out what I'm feeling, and I don't want you to get your hopes up and then be disappointed if I decide this isn't..."

She trails off, looking uncertain.

"Yujin." You reach up, carefully, giving her time to pull away. She doesn't. Your fingers brush a strand of hair from her face. "I've been taking things slowly since the day we met. I can keep doing that. Whatever pace you need. I'm not going anywhere."

She studies you for another long moment. Then, slowly, she nods.

"Okay. Slowly, then."

She lays her head back down on your chest, and you feel her relax against you.

"This is nice, though," she murmurs. "You're comfortable."

"I always knew you’d like having me as your pillow.”

"Pillows don’t talk. Quiet.”

“Fair point. I’ll just pretend to be a corpse, don’t worry.”

She laughs, soft and sleepy, and you close your eyes and let yourself enjoy this.

Slowly. Yeah, you can do slowly.

—

Slowly turns out to mean something different than you expected.

It's not a straight line. It's not a romantic comedy where one kiss leads inevitably to declarations of love and a happily ever after. It's messier than that. More complicated. There are days when Yujin is open and warm, when she seeks out your company, when she falls asleep against your shoulder while you're watching TV. And there are days when she retreats, when she needs space, when she barely says two words to you before disappearing into her room.

You learn to read her moods. To give her space when she needs it and to be present when she wants company. You learn that she gets quiet before big schedules, that she's irritable when she hasn't slept enough, that she stress-cleans the kitchen when she's anxious about something.

You learn her.

And slowly, she learns you too.

She starts asking about your work. Not just polite questions, but real ones. She sits next to you on the couch while you're coding, peering at your laptop screen with a furrowed brow.

"I don't understand any of this," she admits. "It just looks like random letters and symbols."

"That's basically what it is. Random letters and symbols that tell the computer what to do."

"But how do you know what letters and symbols to use?"

You try to explain. You're not great at it. Programming is intuitive to you in a way that's hard to articulate, like asking a musician to explain why a particular chord progression sounds right. But she listens anyway, nodding along even when it's clear she's lost, asking follow-up questions that show she's actually paying attention.

"It's like choreography," she says eventually. "Right? You have these individual moves, and they don't mean much on their own, but when you put them together in the right order, they create something."

"Yeah. Actually, that's a really good analogy."

"I'm not just a pretty face." She says it with a smirk, teasing.

"I know you're not." You say it seriously, meeting her eyes. "I've known that since the beginning."

She holds your gaze for a moment. Then she looks away, a faint blush coloring her cheeks.

"You're being emotional again."

"Sorry. Glacially slow. Right. I'll dial it back."

"You don't have to dial it all the way back." She's still not looking at you, but there's a small smile on her lips. "Just... a little."

—

Falling asleep on your shoulder becomes routine.

You don't know exactly when it shifts from occasional to expected, but at some point, evenings on the couch start ending the same way. You'll be watching something together (she's converted you to K-dramas, god help you), and gradually her weight will settle against your side, her head will droop onto your shoulder, and her breathing will slow into the steady rhythm of sleep.

The first few times, you wake her up. Gently shake her shoulder, tell her she should go to bed.

"Too tired," she mumbles. "Just let me stay here."

"You'll hurt your neck."

"Don't care."

So you start carrying her.

You scoop her up from the couch, one arm under her knees and one behind her back, and she makes a soft sound of protest that's more reflex than actual objection. She's mostly asleep, her head lolling against your chest, her arms loosely circling your neck.

The first time you carry her to her room, you feel like you're doing something sacred. Like you've been entrusted with something precious.

You lay her down on her bed, pull the covers over her, and she murmurs something unintelligible and burrows into her pillow.

"Goodnight, Yujin."

"Mmm. Night."

You leave her door slightly open, just in case.

It becomes a thing. She falls asleep on the couch, you carry her to bed. Sometimes she wakes up enough to mumble a thank you. Sometimes she's out cold, completely dead to the world. Either way, you tuck her in, brush the hair from her face, and retreat to your own room.

Until one night, she doesn't let go.

You're lowering her onto her bed, trying to disentangle yourself from her arms, and she clings tighter.

"Stay," she mumbles, still mostly asleep.

"What?"

"Don't go. Stay here. 'S cold."

It's not cold. The penthouse has excellent climate control. But you don't point that out.

"Yujin, I don't think—"

"Please."

That one word, soft and sleepy and vulnerable, breaks something in you.

You kick off your shoes and climb into bed next to her. She immediately curls against you, her head on your chest, her leg thrown over yours, her body seeking warmth she doesn't actually need.

"Better," she sighs.

You lie there in the dark, staring at the ceiling, heart pounding so hard you're sure she can feel it.

You don't sleep much that night. But you don't move either.

—

After that, she stops going to her own room entirely.

It's not a dramatic declaration. She doesn't announce that she's moving into your room. She just... starts sleeping there. First occasionally, then regularly, then every night. Her clothes migrate from her closet to yours. Her skincare products appear in your bathroom. Her phone charger takes up permanent residence on your nightstand.

You wake up every morning with Yujin in your arms, and every morning it feels like a miracle.

"This is still slow," she insists one night, her head on your chest, her fingers tracing idle patterns on your stomach through your shirt. "We're just sleeping. That's not a big deal."

"Whatever you say."

"I'm serious. Lots of people share beds without it meaning anything."

"Mmhm."

"Stop agreeing with me in that tone."

"What tone? I'm just agreeing."

"You're agreeing sarcastically."

"I would never."

She lifts her head to glare at you, but there's no real heat in it. Her eyes are soft in the dim light, her lips curved in a reluctant smile.

"You're impossible," she says.

"So I've been told."

She lays her head back down, and you feel her smile against your chest.

"I like sleeping here," she admits quietly. "With you. It's... I don't know. It feels safe."

"I like it too."

"You're warm. And you don't move around a lot in your sleep. And you don't snore."

"High praise."

"Don't let it go to your head."

"Too late."

She laughs, that soft, real laugh you love so much, and burrows closer. "Go to sleep, you dork."

"Yes ma'am."

—

The first time you have sex, it's not planned.

It's a Sunday afternoon, lazy and slow. You've been on the couch for hours, ostensibly watching a movie, but really just existing in each other's space. She's curled up next to you, her legs across your lap, your hand resting on her bare thigh where her shorts have ridden up. You've been touching her more lately. Nothing dramatic, just casual contact that's become normal between you. A hand on her waist when you pass her in the kitchen. Fingers intertwined while you're watching TV. Her playing with your hair while you rest your head in her lap.

But today something is different. She shifts, and your hand slides higher on her thigh, almost to the hem of her shorts.

You both freeze. "Sorry." You start to move your hand away. "I didn't mean—"

"Don't."

You look at her. Her cheeks are flushed, her lips slightly parted. "Don't move your hand," she clarifies. "I... I liked it."

Your heart stops. Genuinely stops for a solid two seconds before kicking back into overdrive. "Yujin..."

"I know we said slowly." She's not quite meeting your eyes. "And we've been doing slowly. For months. And I think..." She takes a breath. "I think I'm tired of slowly." She moves then, shifting to straddle your lap in one fluid motion. Her long legs bracket your hips, her hands rest on your shoulders, her face is inches from yours. "Tell me if you don't want this," she says. "Tell me and we'll go back to watching the movie and pretend this never happened."

"Yujin." You can barely get her name out. "I've wanted this since the day I met you."

Her expression shifts, goes soft and warm and wanting, a combination you've never seen in her before. "Good," she breathes. "That's good."

She kisses you.

Her mouth opens against yours, hot and hungry, and her tongue slides past your lips, and suddenly you can't think about anything except how she tastes and how she feels and how desperately you need more.

—

After that first time, it happens again.

And again.

And again.

Sex becomes another part of your routine, as natural as breakfast and evening movies and falling asleep in each other's arms. Sometimes it's slow and tender, whispered words and gentle touches in the dark of your shared bedroom. Sometimes it's fast and desperate, barely making it through the front door before you're on each other. Sometimes she wakes you up in the middle of the night with her hand on your cock and a hungry look in her eyes. Sometimes you ambush her in the shower and drop to your knees to eat her out until she's begging and the water's gone cold.

It's not just the sex, though. It's everything.

It's the way she kisses you goodbye when she leaves for schedules, a quick press of lips that's become as automatic as breathing. It's the way she texts you random things throughout the day: a funny meme, a complaint about her manager, a photo of her lunch. It's the way she curls into you at night.

It's the way she looks at you now, soft and warm and open, nothing like the guarded stranger you married six months ago.

You come home from work one evening to find her already there, which is rare. Usually her schedules run late. But today she's curled up on the couch with her tablet, wearing one of your hoodies (she's stolen approximately half your wardrobe at this point), and when she hears the door open, she looks up.

"Hi," she says.

"Hi yourself. You're home early."

"Schedule got cancelled." She sets the tablet aside, unfurling from the couch. "I was hoping you'd be back soon." She crosses the room to you, and before you can even put down your bag, she's in your arms. Her lips find yours, the kind of kiss that says I missed you and I'm glad you're here.

You kiss her back, dropping your bag somewhere behind you, your hands coming up to cup her face.

"Hi," you say again when you finally break apart.

"Hi." She's smiling. "Welcome home."

Welcome home.

You think about those words. About how this penthouse that was supposed to be a stage for a fake marriage, has somehow become exactly that. Home. Because she's in it. Because she's here, warm and real and yours in every way that matters.

"It's good to be home," you say.

She kisses you again, and you don't let her go for a very long time.

—

You wake up with your entire body screaming at you.

It's not an unfamiliar sensation anymore. Yujin sleeps like she's trying to absorb you into her body, limbs thrown everywhere, her head on your chest, one leg hooked over yours, her arm flung across your stomach. She's tall enough that when she sprawls, she really sprawls, and you've become her personal mattress topper whether you like it or not. You like it, obviously. Even when it means waking up with a dead arm and a crick in your neck and her elbow somehow lodged between your ribs.

Her schedule is clear today. No schedules, no recordings, no practices. A rare day off that she deserves after the chaos of IVE's latest comeback. So when you carefully extract yourself from beneath her, moving with the practiced stealth of someone who's done this many times before, you make sure not to jostle her awake.

She mumbles something unintelligible and immediately rolls into the warm spot you've left behind, hugging your pillow to her chest like a replacement. Her face is soft in sleep, all the idol armor stripped away, just Yujin. Your Yujin.

You lean down and press a kiss to her forehead.

"Sleep well," you murmur. She doesn't stir.

The kitchen is your domain now. Two years of marriage, most of it spent actually learning how to be a partner instead of just a contractual obligation, has turned you into a halfway decent cook. You move through the space with confidence, pulling out ingredients for a proper breakfast. Eggs, vegetables, rice from last night, some beef for bulgogi that you start marinating while the pan heats up.

You're plating the food when you hear her footsteps in the hallway. You abandon the kitchen and head toward the bathroom, you skipped your morning routine to prepare breakfast, that's when you nearly collide with her in the corridor.

"Bathroom?" she asks, still sleepy.

"Bathroom."

"Same." You end up side by side at the double sink. She squeezes toothpaste onto her brush, then onto yours without being asked, and you both start brushing in companionable silence.

"So," she says around a mouthful of foam. "Anniversary trip. Thoughts?"

You spit, rinse. "I've been considering options."

"And?"

"Antarctica."

She stares at you in the mirror, toothbrush frozen mid-motion. "Antarctica," she repeats flatly.

"You said you wanted to go somewhere no one would recognize us. I'm pretty sure the penguin population doesn't follow K-pop."

"That is not what I meant and you know it."

"The northern lights are romantic. Or wait, that's the Arctic. Antarctica has... different lights. Southern lights. Aurora australis. Very romantic."

"Nothing about freezing to death is romantic."

"Agree to disagree. Huddling for warmth? Peak romance."

She spits into the sink with more force than necessary, clearly expressing her opinion of your suggestion. "I want somewhere warm. With beaches. And room service. And no parkas."

"Counterpoint: penguins."

"I'll buy you a stuffed penguin. We're going somewhere tropical."

You grin at her in the mirror. "Fine. But I'm saving Antarctica for next year's anniversary. Start mentally preparing."

"I'm filing for divorce before I agree to Antarctica."

"Empty threat. You love me too much." She rolls her eyes, but she's smiling, she can't help it.

Breakfast is laid out on the table by the time she's finished her morning skincare routine (extensive, idol-mandated, involving approximately fifteen products that you still can't tell apart). She slides into her seat and makes an appreciative noise at the spread.

"You're getting good at this."

"I've had practice. Captive audience, very demanding."

"I'm not demanding."

"You sent your eggs back three times last month."

"They were undercooked. I have standards." You sit across from her, watching her eat, enjoying the simple domesticity of a morning together. These moments still feel precious, still feel earned. You remember those early days, the cold distance, the separate bedrooms, the careful dance of two strangers forced into proximity. Now she steals food off your plate without asking and complains about your cold feet in bed and kisses you goodbye every morning.

"It's funny," you say, "that we were already married when we started dating."

She pauses, chopsticks halfway to her mouth. "I think about that sometimes. How backwards everything was."

"Most people date, then move in together, then get married. We did it completely reversed."

"We got married, moved in together, hated each other, tolerated each other, and then started dating."

"You never hated me."

"I strongly disliked you."

"That's different from hate."

"Fine. I strongly disliked you, then I tolerated you, then I found you mildly amusing, then I accidentally fell in love with you. Happy?"

"Extremely."

She shakes her head, smiling despite herself. "Two years," she says softly. "I can't believe it's been two years. I really thought... back at the beginning, I thought I'd be counting down the days until I could escape. And now..."

"Now you're stuck with me."

"Now I can't imagine being anywhere else."

You reach across the table, taking her hand. "I always knew I was husband material," you say. "Everyone always told me that."

She snorts. "No one has ever told you that."

"They have. Constantly. I hear it all the time."

"From who? Your mother?"

"From... people. Many people. Strangers on the street."

"You're lying."

"I'm lying." You squeeze her hand. "But I always knew I'd be good at this. At being yours."

She looks at you with those soft eyes, the ones that used to be so guarded and cold and are now warm enough to melt you. "You are," she says quietly. "Good at it. At being mine."

After a romantic breakfast and washing the dishes, you go to the living room, reaching for the remote.

"Let's see what's happening in the world. I feel like nothing could go wrong right now. Today is a perfect day."

You flip on the TV. The entertainment news channel blares to life, and there's Yujin's face filling the screen. Your first thought is pride, the automatic surge of "that's my wife" that you get whenever you see her on TV or in magazines or trending on social media.

Then you actually register what the anchor is saying.

"—breaking news this morning as photos have surfaced revealing that IVE's Ahn Yujin has been secretly married for approximately two years. The identity of her husband has been confirmed as—" A photo appears. The two of you. It looks like it was taken at one of the family dinners, someone's phone capturing a moment when you weren't paying attention. You're looking at her with obvious adoration. She's laughing at something you said.

The anchor continues, but you've stopped hearing the words.

You turn to look at Yujin. Her face is unreadable, the water bottle in her hand stalled halfway to her mouth, eyes locked on the TV.

"You jinxed it," she says.

"Yeah." You swallow hard. "Maybe I was a little hasty with the 'nothing could go wrong' comment. My bad.”

—

"I understand this news may come as a surprise to many people. Yes, I am married. I have been for two years. My husband is a wonderful person who has shown me nothing but kindness and respect from the very beginning of our relationship. I am genuinely happy, and I hope that the people who have supported me and IVE throughout my career can understand that my personal happiness does not diminish my dedication to my work or my love for our fans. I will continue to do my best as a member of IVE. I hope you can support me as I build the life I want, both on stage and off. Thank you."

You read the statement three times at your desk, grinning like an idiot at your computer screen.

Your coworker glances over. "Good news?"

"The best." You can hardly believe this is the same woman who sat across from you at that first dinner and laid out the terms of your fake marriage like she was negotiating a hostile business acquisition. The same woman who flinched when you accidentally brushed her hand. The same woman who spent months treating you like an inconvenient roommate she was counting the days to be rid of.

Now she's telling the entire country that you make her happy. That she's choosing you.

Two years. What a difference two years makes.

You leave work early, something you almost never do, but today feels different. Today feels like the kind of day you should be home, with her, facing whatever comes next together.

The penthouse is quiet when you walk in. Yujin is on the couch, legs curled underneath her, scrolling through her phone with a expression of detached calm. She looks up when she hears the door, and her face softens into a smile.

You cross the room and lean down to kiss her. It's brief, casual, the kind of kiss that's become as natural as breathing between you.

"Hey."

"Hey yourself." You settle onto the couch beside her. "I read the statement. You did well."

She shrugs, setting her phone aside. "It was nothing. Just said what needed to be said."

"It wasn't nothing. You were perfect. Direct, honest, didn't apologize for being happy. I was proud of you."

"Save the pride for later. I still have to survive the chaos this is going to cause." She stares disinterestedly at her phone. "My manager's already called four times. The company wants to have a meeting tomorrow. There are think pieces being written as we speak about what this means for IVE's image."

You study her face, looking for signs of stress or panic. There aren't many. "You don't seem that worried."

She considers this for a moment.

"I am worried. A little. But..." She exhales slowly. "I always knew this was going to happen eventually. We couldn't hide forever. And honestly? Part of me is relieved. No more sneaking around. No more lying to everyone. It's out there now. Whatever happens, happens."

You're quiet for a moment, watching her. Thinking about everything you've built together, everything you almost didn't have because you were both too stubborn and scared to admit what you were feeling. "You know," you say carefully, "if you wanted... we could still get divorced."

She goes very still.

"I mean it," you continue. "If this is going to hurt your career, if the backlash is too much, if you need to choose between IVE and me... I would never ask you to sacrifice everything you've worked for. Your happiness matters more to me than—"

"Stop." She's looking at you with an expression you can't quite read. Somewhere between exasperation and tenderness. "I know you would do that," she says quietly. "I know you would let me go if you thought it would make me happy. That's exactly the kind of person you are. It's one of the reasons I fell in love with you."

She moves then, shifting on the couch until she's straddling your lap. Her hands rest on your shoulders, her face close to yours, her dark eyes holding your gaze. "But that's not what I want. I spent years building my career. Training until my body ached, performing until I couldn't stand, smiling when I wanted to cry. I love what I do. I love IVE, I love the girls, I love our fans. But for so long, that was all I had. Work. Schedules. The next comeback, the next performance, the next goal."

She cups your face in her hands. "Then you came along. And you were so... annoying."

You laugh despite yourself. "Romantic."

"You were. With your dumb jokes and your spreadsheets and your stupid photocard in your phone case. You were this goofy, awkward, ridiculously kind person who kept showing up, kept respecting my boundaries, kept making me laugh even when I didn't want to. And somewhere along the way, I realized that I didn't just want a career. I wanted a life. A real one. With someone who sees me, not the idol, not the image. Just me."

Her thumb strokes your cheek. "I want to build that life with you. I want anniversary trips and lazy Sunday mornings and fighting about whose turn it is to do dishes. I want all of it. The boring stuff and the hard stuff and everything in between."

She leans in, pressing her forehead to yours. "So no. I don't want a divorce. I want you. Whatever chaos comes with that, we'll figure it out together."

She kisses you. Deep and slow and full of promise.

When she pulls back, your eyes are stinging with something you refuse to call tears.

"I want that too," you manage. "All of it. Everything. With you."

Her smile is radiant. "I love you," she says. "I should have said it sooner. I should have said it a thousand times by now. But I love you."

You pull her closer, burying your face in her neck. "I love you too, babe. I have loved you for so long."

She wraps her arms around you, and you stay like that, tangled together on the couch, while the world outside loses its mind over the news of your marriage.

You stay like that for a while, existing in each other’s bodies, though this is a position you usually use for reasons other than emotional support. So, eventually, Yujin shifts in your lap, her hips rolling in a slow, deliberate grind that makes your breath hitch. She's looking at you with those dark eyes, half-lidded and full of intent, and there's a smile playing at the corners of her lips that tells you exactly where this is headed.

"Do you know what I'm thinking right now?"

She punctuates the question with another roll of her hips, pressing down against the growing hardness in your pants. Your hands move on instinct, sliding down her back to cup her ass through those tiny cotton shorts she wears around the house. You squeeze, pulling her tighter against you, and she lets out a soft hum of approval.

"I think I have an idea."

"Bedroom." She says it like a command, her fingers already working at the buttons of your dress shirt. "Now."

Your hands slide under her thighs and you lift her effortlessly, her legs wrapping around your waist as you stand. She's light in your arms, all long limbs and lean muscle, and she laughs against your neck as you carry her down the hallway. That laugh turns into a gasp when you toss her onto the bed, her body bouncing once on the mattress before she settles, propped up on her elbows, watching you with those beautiful eyes.

You take a moment to just look at her.

Yujin, sprawled across your bed in a tank top and shorts, her dark hair fanned out against the pillows, her chest rising and falling with quickened breath. Your wife. After everything, after the arrangement and the coldness and the slow, painful process of falling in love, she's yours. Really, truly yours. And she's looking at you like she wants to devour you whole.

"You're staring," she says.

"I'm appreciating."

"Appreciate faster. I'm getting impatient." You kick off your shoes, letting them fall somewhere behind you. Your blazer follows, shrugged off your shoulders and discarded on the floor. You take your time with the dress shirt, undoing each button slowly while she watches, her tongue darting out to wet her lips. "You're doing that on purpose."

"Doing what?"

"Being slow. To torture me."

"I would never." You pull the shirt off, tossing it aside, and her eyes roam over your chest with obvious appreciation. You climb onto the bed, positioning yourself between her legs, and her thighs fall open automatically to accommodate you. Your fingers find the waistband of her shorts, hooking into the fabric.

"Can I?"

"If you don't, I'm going to scream."

You pull them down slowly, dragging the material over her hips, down her thighs, past her knees. She lifts her legs to help you, and the shorts join the growing pile of clothes on the floor. She's wearing simple cotton panties underneath, light pink, already showing a dark spot of dampness at the center.

"Fuck," you breathe.

"What?"

"You're so wet already."

"That's what happens when my husband carries me to bed like a romance novel hero." She lifts her hips, impatient. "Take them off." You hook your fingers into the waistband of her panties and peel them down with the same deliberate slowness. She makes a frustrated noise, but you ignore it, watching as inch by inch of her is revealed to you. The neat strip of dark hair. The soft outer lips, already glistening. The pink, swollen folds underneath.

The panties drop to the floor and you sit back on your heels, just looking.

"You're beautiful," you tell her. "Every single part of you."

"You're sappy." But her cheeks are flushed, and not just from arousal. "Now stop talking and put your mouth on me."

"So demanding."

“You love your wife being bossy."

You do. God, you really do.

You lower yourself onto your stomach, settling between her spread thighs. This close, you can smell her arousal, musky and sweet, and your mouth waters in anticipation. But you don't go straight for where she wants you. That would be too easy. Instead, you press a kiss to the inside of her right thigh.

"Tease," she accuses.

You kiss higher, your lips brushing against soft, warm skin. Another kiss, closer to the crease where her thigh meets her hip. She shivers beneath you, her hips twitching, trying to guide you where she needs you. "Patience."

"I don't have patience. I have needs."

You switch to her other thigh, pressing the same trail of kisses from knee to hip. Her skin is impossibly soft here, smooth and warm, and you take your time tasting her, licking and sucking little marks that will fade by morning. Her fingers find your hair, threading through the strands, not quite pushing but definitely encouraging.

"Please,” she breathes. "Please, I need—"

You finally turn your attention to her cunt.

She's so wet. Her folds are slick and swollen, her arousal coating her inner thighs. You lean in and drag your tongue in one long, slow lick from her entrance to her clit, and the sound she makes is obscene.

"Fuck—"

You do it again, slower this time, savoring the taste of her. She's tangy and slightly sweet, and you will never get tired of this, never get tired of having her fall apart on your tongue. Her hips buck against your face, seeking more friction, but you pin them down with your hands, keeping her still while you explore.

"More," she pants. "Please, more, I need—"

You seal your lips around her clit and suck gently, and her whole body arches off the bed.

"Oh god oh fuck oh—"

You alternate between sucking and licking, learning her rhythms all over again. You know her body so well by now, know exactly what makes her gasp and what makes her moan and what makes her dig her nails into your scalp hard enough to sting. You flatten your tongue against her clit, rubbing in slow circles, and she whimpers above you, her thighs trembling on either side of your head.

"Your mouth," she gasps. "Your fucking mouth, I can't— God, I love you."

You pull back just enough to look up at her. Her tank top has ridden up, exposing the flat plane of her stomach, the rapid rise and fall of her chest. Her face is flushed, her lips parted, her eyes glazed with pleasure.

"You taste so good." You punctuate the words with another slow lick. "Could do this for hours."

"Don't you dare— don't you dare stop—" You have no intention of stopping.

You return to her pussy with renewed focus, licking and sucking and teasing until she's writhing beneath you, her moans filling the bedroom, her hands gripping your hair like she's afraid you'll disappear. You slide two fingers inside her while your mouth works her clit, feeling her inner walls clench around you, hot and wet and desperate.

"Yes yes yes, right there! Keep going, babe."

Her whole body is trembling now, every muscle pulled taut, her back arched and her head thrown back against the pillows. You curl your fingers, finding that spot inside her that makes her see stars.

Your fingers pumping steadily, your tongue circling her clit, your free hand splayed across her stomach to feel every shudder and shake. She's so responsive, so beautiful in her pleasure, and you could watch her like this forever.

So you keep the pace, relentless now, your mouth working her with single-minded devotion. Every lick and suck draws another broken sound from her throat, and you drink them in like they're sustenance. Her thighs are shaking on either side of your head, her hips rolling in desperate little circles despite your hands trying to hold her still. She's chasing your mouth, chasing the pleasure, and you let her take what she needs while you give her everything you have.

"Fuck, your tongue is perfect."

Her hands release your hair, and you feel her shift above you. When you glance up without stopping your ministrations, you see her palms pressing against her breasts through the thin fabric of her tank top, squeezing and kneading the soft flesh. Her nipples are hard points poking against the cotton, and she pinches them between her fingers, rolling them, adding to the sensations overwhelming her body.

"That's it," you murmur against her pussy, the vibration of your voice making her gasp. "Touch yourself. Let me see you."

"Feels so good, babe—" She's groping herself desperately now, pulling at her tank top until it bunches up beneath her chin, exposing her bare breasts to the cool air. They're small and perfect, pale with dusky pink nipples that she's abusing with her own fingers, pinching and twisting while you devour her below. The sight of her like this, so lost in pleasure that she's abandoned all pretense of composure, makes your cock throb painfully in your pants.

You redouble your efforts, your tongue flicking rapidly against her swollen clit. She's so wet that your chin is slick with her arousal, and the obscene sounds of your mouth on her pussy fill the room. Wet, slurping, hungry sounds that would be embarrassing if they weren't so fucking hot.

"Please please please! " She's chanting now, the words tumbling out in a breathless stream. "Please I need it I— oh my god!"

You push a third finger inside her alongside the two already buried in her heat. She's so slick, so ready, that they slide in easily, and the stretch makes her cry out. Her inner walls flutter around your fingers, gripping and releasing in desperate pulses. You curl them, pressing against that rough patch of nerves inside her, and her whole body jolts. "Right there! Oh god oh fuck right there don't stop—"

Her hands abandon her breasts to grip the sheets. Her back is arched so severely that only her shoulders and heels are touching the mattress, her body curved like a bow drawn to its limit. Every muscle in her body is trembling, straining, desperate for release.

You give her everything. Your fingers pumping relentlessly, hitting that spot over and over. Your mouth sealed around her clit, sucking in a steady rhythm. Your free hand slides up her body to cup one of her breasts, your thumb brushing across the stiff peak of her nipple, and that's it, that's the final piece.

She shatters.

"Fuck! I'm cumming, I’m—” Her orgasm crashes through her suddenly. Her pussy clamps down on your fingers hard, pulsing rhythmically as wave after wave of pleasure tears through her body. Her thighs slam shut around your head, trapping you against her, but you don't stop, you don't ease up, you work her through every single second of it. Her screams dissolve into wordless sobs of pleasure, her body shaking and convulsing, her arousal gushing against your chin and soaking the sheets beneath her.

You lap at her gently as she comes down, soothing the oversensitive flesh with soft, slow licks. Her thighs gradually release their death grip on your skull, falling open limply against the mattress. Her chest is heaving, her eyes closed, her lips parted as she struggles to catch her breath.

"Holy shit," she whispers. "Holy fucking shit."

You press one last kiss to her pussy, making her twitch, then crawl up her body. She's boneless beneath you, completely wrecked.

You lean down and kiss her.

It's dirty and deep, your tongue pushing past her lips to tangle with hers. She can taste herself on you, you know she can, and she moans into your mouth, sucking on your tongue like she's savoring the flavor.

"Mmm." She breaks the kiss with a satisfied hum, licking her lips. "I taste really good."

You laugh, dropping your forehead to rest against hers. "Conceited."

"It's not conceited if it's true." Her eyes are sparkling, her smile teasing. "You seemed to enjoy it."

"I always enjoy it."

Her hand slides down between your bodies, and you inhale sharply when her palm presses against the bulge straining your dress pants. You're painfully hard, have been since she started grinding in your lap, and her touch - even through layers of fabric - makes your hips jerk involuntarily.

"Someone's excited," she teases, her fingers tracing the outline of your cock through the material.

"Someone's been eating his gorgeous wife's pussy for the last ten minutes. What did you expect?"

"I expected this." She squeezes gently, and you groan. "I was hoping for it, actually."

"Yeah?"

"Mmhm. Your turn now." She tugs at your waistband impatiently. "Take these off. I want to see you." You roll off her just long enough to deal with your remaining clothes. Your belt buckle clinks as you undo it, and you push your pants and underwear down together, kicking them off the edge of the bed. Your cock springs free, hard and flushed and already leaking from the tip. The relief of being freed from the confining fabric makes you sigh.

Yujin props herself up on her elbows, her eyes fixed on your erection with undisguised hunger.

"Come here," she says. "I need you.”

You settle between her legs, your cock resting against her slick folds, and she wraps her long legs around your waist to pull you closer. The tip of your erection nudges against her entrance, catching on the wet heat there, and you both shudder at the contact.

"Missionary?" She raises an eyebrow, a teasing lilt to her voice despite how wrecked she still looks from her orgasm.

"It's what a responsible married couple would do." You shift your hips, letting your cock slide through her folds without entering, coating yourself in her arousal. "Very traditional. Our parents would approve."

"Oh my god." She smacks your shoulder. "Do not talk about our parents while your dick is literally touching my pussy."

"You're right. That wasn't sexy at all."

"The opposite of sexy. The anti-sexy."

"I apologize."

"Good. Now stop teasing and fuck me already."

You line yourself up, the head of your cock pressing against her entrance. You haven't used a condom in months. She's on the pill, has been since before you even started sleeping together, and somewhere along the way you both decided you preferred it without the barrier. There's something intimate about it, something raw. Feeling her with nothing between you. Knowing that when you finish inside her, she'll be full of you for hours afterward.

You push forward.

The first inch makes you both groan. She's still so wet from her orgasm, slick and swollen, but she's tight too, her walls gripping you like a fist as you sink into her. You go slow, savoring every sensation, watching her face as you fill her inch by inch. "Fuck." Her head tips back against the pillows, her eyes fluttering closed. "You feel so big like this."

"Like what?"

"When you go slow." Her nails dig into your shoulders. "I can feel every… every inch of you." You bottom out, your hips flush against hers, your cock buried to the hilt in her tight heat. For a moment you just stay there, fully sheathed inside her, feeling her pulse around you. She's so warm, so wet, her inner walls fluttering and adjusting to the stretch. You could stay like this forever, connected in the most intimate way possible.

But she's impatient.

"Move." Her legs tighten around your waist, her heels digging into your ass. "Please, I need you to move." You pull back slowly, dragging your cock through her gripping heat until only the tip remains inside. Then you thrust forward again, smooth and deep, and the sound she makes is pure pornography.

You set a rhythm. Slow and deep at first, each thrust deliberate, each withdrawal making her whimper at the loss. The wet sounds of your bodies meeting fill the bedroom, obscene and perfect. She's so slick that every time you push into her, you can hear it, that filthy squelching noise that means she's absolutely drenched for you.

"You feel incredible," you tell her. "So fucking tight. So wet."

"It's— fuck— it's because of you." She's panting now, her chest heaving beneath you. "You make me so wet, babe."

You shift your angle slightly, lifting her hips with your hands, and the next thrust hits something deep inside her that makes her cry out. Her back arches off the bed, her nails raking down your back hard enough to leave marks.

"There! Oh fuck right there—"

You hit that spot again. And again. Building a rhythm that has her moaning on every stroke, her pussy clenching around you in desperate pulses. Her tank top is still bunched up under her chin, her breasts exposed, and they bounce with each impact of your hips against hers. Small, perfect, the nipples hard pink peaks that you want to put your mouth on.

So you do.

You lower your head, capturing one nipple between your lips while you continue to thrust into her. You suck hard, flicking your tongue against the stiff peak, and she keens above you, her hands flying to your hair to hold you in place.

"Yes! Suck them, don't stop!" You switch to the other breast, giving it the same treatment. Licking, sucking, gently biting until she's squirming beneath you, overwhelmed by sensation from above and below. Your cock is pumping into her steadily now, faster than before, the slap of skin against skin echoing off the walls. "Harder," she begs. "Please, I need it harder."

You give her what she wants.

Your hips snap forward with more force, driving into her deep and rough. The bed frame creaks beneath you, protesting the intensity, but you don't care. All you care about is the way she feels around you, the way she sounds, the way her whole body shakes with each thrust.

Her legs are wrapped so tight around you that you couldn't pull away if you wanted to. Her heels dig into your ass, urging you deeper, harder, faster. Sweat is beading on your forehead, dripping down onto her chest, and she's just as wrecked, her skin flushed and glistening, her hair a tangled mess against the pillows.

"You take me so well," you growl against her throat, pressing kisses and bites along the column of her neck. "Such a good girl. Taking every inch."

"Your cock! Love your cock so much!”

You pound into her relentlessly, your balls slapping against her ass with each thrust. Her pussy is gripping you so fucking tight now, her inner walls rippling around your shaft like she's trying to milk you dry. You can feel every ridge of her, every flutter and clench, and it's taking everything you have not to lose yourself completely.

"So good," she's babbling now, beyond coherent thought. "So good so good so— oh my god— don't stop— please don't ever stop!" You have no intention of stopping. Not until she's screaming. Not until she's shaking apart beneath you. Not until you've wrung every last drop of pleasure from her body.

Your hand slides between your bodies, finding her clit. You press your thumb against the swollen nub, rubbing in tight circles while you continue to fuck her, and the reaction is immediate.

Her whole body goes rigid, trembling on the edge of something massive. Her nails score lines down your back, her pussy clamping down on you like a vice. She's so close you can feel it, can feel the way her walls are fluttering desperately around your cock.

But you don't let her fall yet.

You push yourself upright, rising to your knees between her spread thighs. The change in angle makes her gasp, your cock shifting inside her, pressing against different spots. From here you can see everything. Her flushed face against the pillows, her heaving chest with those perfect small breasts exposed, the flat plane of her stomach trembling with each breath. And lower, where your bodies are joined, your thick cock stretching her pink pussy wide, glistening with her arousal every time you pull back.

"God, look at you," you breathe, gripping her hips with both hands. "Look at how you take me."

Your hips snap forward in a punishing rhythm, using your grip on her hips to pull her onto your cock as you thrust. The new angle lets you go deeper than before, bottoming out with every stroke, and she's making these broken little sounds every time you hit that spot inside her.

Your right hand leaves her hip and slides down to where you're connected. You find her clit easily, swollen and slippery, and press your thumb against it. The effect is instantaneous. You rub in tight, fast circles, matching the rhythm of your thrusts. Your cock pumping into her from below while your thumb works her clit from above. Double stimulation that has her thrashing on the bed, her head tossing side to side, incoherent sounds spilling from her lips.

"That's it," you encourage, watching her come undone. "Let go. I've got you."

"I can't! It's too much—"

"Yes you can, babe. You can take it."

You've learned her body over these months together. Learned exactly how to touch her, how much pressure she needs, the specific rhythm that makes her fall apart. You know what's building inside her right now, can feel it in the way her pussy is clenching around you, fluttering desperately with each stroke. She's going to squirt for you. She doesn't do it every time, but when she does, it's definitely the hottest thing in the world. "Let me feel it," you coax, your thumb moving faster on her clit. "Let me feel you come all over my cock."

"I'm— something's—"

Her back arches impossibly high, then she’s screaming at the top of her lungs. You can feel it happening, the way her inner walls suddenly clamp down on you hard enough to stop your thrusts, the rhythmic pulsing that starts deep inside her and radiates outward.

Then she gushes.

Clear fluid sprays from her pussy, soaking your stomach, your thighs, the sheets beneath you. It comes in waves, each pulse of her orgasm pushing more out of her, and you don't stop, you keep fucking her through it, keep rubbing her clit even as she floods you with her release.

Her eyes have rolled back in her head, only the whites visible, her whole body convulsing with pleasure. She's completely gone, lost in the overwhelming sensation, and you've never seen anything more beautiful. Ahn Yujin, undone and wrecked and squirting all over you because you learned exactly how to take her apart.

You slow your thrusts as she comes down, gentling your touch on her oversensitive clit. Her body is still twitching with aftershocks, little tremors running through her muscles, her chest heaving as she gasps for air. The sheets beneath her are soaked, dark with her release, and you're dripping with it too, her arousal cooling on your skin.

"Holy shit," she breathes when she finally remembers how to speak. Her eyes are glassy, unfocused. "That was— I can't feel my legs."

"You squirted so hard." You can't keep the awe out of your voice. "God, you're incredible."

She laughs weakly, still trying to catch her breath. Her hands are shaking as she reaches down to grab the hem of her tank top, the one that's been bunched up uselessly under her chin this whole time. She pulls it over her head and tosses it aside, finally completely naked beneath you.

"Mmm." She stretches luxuriously, her body long and lean and glistening with sweat. Her nipples are still hard, her skin flushed pink from her face down to her chest. "That was amazing."

"Was?" You raise an eyebrow, your cock still hard inside her, twitching at the way her walls are still fluttering around you. "We're not done."

Her lips curve into that wicked smile you love so much.

"Good." She rolls her hips experimentally, making you both groan. "Because I want more."

"Good." Her lips curve into that wicked smile you love so much. "Because I want more." Before you can respond, her hands are on your chest, pushing you backward. You go willingly, letting her guide you down until your back hits the mattress and she's rising above you, straddling your hips. Your cock slips out of her briefly during the transition and you both hiss at the loss, but then she's reaching down, wrapping her fingers around your slick shaft, and positioning you at her entrance again.

"I love it when a woman takes control," you say, grinning up at her.

"I know you do." She sinks down onto you slowly, inch by agonizing inch, her eyes never leaving yours. "You probably liked it when I was cold with you too. Back at the beginning."

"No."

She raises an eyebrow, fully seated now, your cock buried to the hilt inside her tight heat.

"Maybe."

She rolls her hips experimentally, and you groan. "Just a little."

"Knew it." She's smiling, that beautiful smile that shows her dimples. "You're into ice queens."

"I'm into you. Whatever version of you I can get."

She braces her hands on your chest and starts to move. Slow. So fucking slow it's almost torturous. She lifts herself up, her pussy dragging along your shaft, gripping you tight the whole way, until just the tip remains inside. Then she sinks back down, taking you deep, her eyes fluttering closed as she savors the sensation of being filled.

"Mmmmm." The sound she makes is pure satisfaction. "You feel so good inside me."

"You look incredible up there."

And she does. God, she really does. Ahn Yujin, naked and flushed, straddling your hips, your cock buried in her pussy. Her long dark hair is a mess, tangled and wild from the way she was thrashing against the pillows earlier. Her breasts are perfect, nipples hard and pink, swaying gently with each movement of her body. Her stomach is taut, muscles flexing as she rides you. And her face - that beautiful face that graces magazine covers and music videos - is soft with pleasure, those cute dimples on full display as she smiles down at you.

"You're staring again," she teases, establishing a steady rhythm now. Up and down, up and down, slow and sensual.

"Can't help it. My wife is hot as fuck."

"Flatterer."

"Truth-teller." She laughs, and you feel it around your cock, her inner walls squeezing you briefly. Your hands find her thighs, stroking the smooth skin there, marveling at the lean muscle beneath. Dancer's legs. Idol's legs. Your wife's legs. "I could watch you like this forever," you tell her. "Just riding me. Taking your pleasure. Using me however you want."

"Mmm, I like that." She plants her hands more firmly on your chest, changing her angle slightly. The next time she sinks down, you both moan at the new sensation. "You, at my mercy. Lying there while I fuck myself on your cock."

"Dirty mouth."

She bites her lower lip, then smiles. "You love it, pretty boy."

She picks up the pace just slightly, still nowhere near fast, but there's more purpose to her movements now. Each roll of her hips grinds her clit against your pubic bone, and you can see the way her breath catches every time, the way her lips part on a silent gasp. She's chasing her pleasure, using your body exactly like you told her to.

Your hands slide up from her thighs to her hips, not guiding, just holding. Feeling the way her muscles work as she moves. She's so strong, so graceful, every movement controlled and deliberate. Years of choreography have given her an awareness of her body that translates beautifully to this context, each rise and fall perfectly timed, perfectly executed.

"Yeah… just like that…"

She's talking to herself more than to you now, lost in the sensation, her head tipping back to expose the long column of her throat. You want to put your mouth there, want to suck marks into her skin, but you also don't want to disrupt her rhythm. So you just watch, memorizing every detail. The way her throat moves when she swallows. The sheen of sweat on her collarbones. The bounce of her breasts with each movement.

"Touch me," she demands without looking down. "My tits. Touch them." Your hands slide up her body immediately, cupping her breasts in your palms. They're small enough that you can cover them completely, the hard points of her nipples pressing into your skin. You squeeze gently, then harder when she moans her approval. "Fuck! Yes, like that."

You roll her nipples between your fingers, pinching and tugging the way you know she likes. Her rhythm stutters for a moment, her hips jerking, and you feel her pussy clench around you in response. She's so wet, so hot, her arousal coating your cock and dripping down to your balls.

"You're so wet for me," you murmur, pinching her nipples again. "Can hear how much you want it."

"Always— ahhh— always want you, babe—"

She's riding you faster now, her body finding a rhythm that works for both of you. Not frantic, not desperate, just steady and deep and perfect. Her hands have moved from your chest to your shoulders, using the leverage to lift herself higher on each stroke before slamming back down.

"That's it," you encourage, your hands dropping back to her hips to help guide her movements. "Ride me just like that. Take what you need."

Her dimples flash again as she smiles down at you, and even after two years, you can't help but fall in love with her all over again. This woman. This impossible, beautiful, talented woman who started as a reluctant stranger and became the love of your life. She's riding your cock and smiling at you with those dimples and you've never been happier than you are right now.

"I love you," you tell her, and you don't mean it to sound so intense, so raw, but it comes out that way anyway.

Her rhythm doesn't falter, but her expression softens. "I love you too." She leans down, changing the angle again, and presses a kiss to your lips. It's messy and uncoordinated, hard to maintain while she's still moving, but you don't care. "So much. Can't believe I almost missed this."

"You didn't miss it. We're here."

"We're here." She straightens up again, her hands finding your chest once more, and grinds down hard. "And I'm going to ride you until I can't remember my own name."

"Please do.”

She keeps moving, but the rhythm shifts. She's bouncing on you properly now, using her powerful thighs to lift herself almost completely off your cock before dropping back down. Her tits bounce with each impact, hypnotic, and her face is twisted in pleasure, those dimples long gone, replaced by parted lips and fluttering eyelashes. She's not smiling anymore. She's too far gone for that.

"That's it," you groan, your hands gripping her hips hard enough to leave bruises. "Use me. Take what you need."

She plants her hands on your chest for leverage and really starts to ride. Fast and hard and desperate, her ass slapping against your thighs with every downstroke, her pussy gripping you like a vice. You can feel every ridge of her inner walls, every flutter and clench, and the pressure is building at the base of your spine, that familiar coiling tension that means you're not going to last much longer.

"Yujin, fuck…you feel so good."

She's using you. Really, truly using you, chasing her pleasure with single-minded focus. Her body is working above you, her hips snapping in a rhythm that's driving you both toward the edge. Sweat is dripping down her chest, between her breasts, and you want to lick it off but you can't move, can't do anything but lie there and let her take what she wants. "So close," she gasps, her movements becoming erratic. "So fucking close— need you—"

"What do you need? Tell me."

"Need you to cum." Her eyes lock onto yours. "Need you to fill me up. Please— please cum inside me."

"Yeah?" Your hips are thrusting up to meet hers now, unable to stay still. "Want me to fill this pretty pussy?"

"Yes, yes— want your cum so bad, babe."

She's bouncing faster, harder, her pussy making the filthiest sounds as she rides you. Slick and wet and desperate, her arousal coating your cock and dripping down to pool at the base. You can feel yourself getting closer with every stroke, that pressure building and building until it's almost unbearable.

"Gonna cum so deep inside you," you promise. "Gonna fill you up until it's dripping out."

"Please please please!" She's chanting now, beyond coherent thought. "Cum in me, I need it! need to feel you, please—"

"Beg for it."

"I'm begging, fuck, I'm begging you to cum inside me—" Her words are interrupted by a moan. "I'm such a cumslut for you, need your load. Please please please fill me up!"

That word on her lips - cumslut - spoken in that desperate, wrecked tone, is what breaks you.

Your hands clamp down on her hips, holding her still as your cock pulses inside her. The first spurt of cum shoots deep into her pussy, hot and thick, and you groan loud. Your hips jerk uncontrollably, pumping more and more cum into her, filling her up just like she begged you to.

"Oh god, I can feel it!" Her eyes go wide, her whole body shuddering. "I can feel you cumming, I— Fuck!”

The sensation of your release inside her triggers her own. She shatters with a scream, her pussy clamping down on you so hard it almost hurts. Her whole body goes rigid above you, every muscle locking up, and then she's convulsing, trembling, her inner walls milking your cock in rhythmic pulses that draw out every last drop of your cum. You can feel her fluttering around you, can feel the way her orgasm ripples through her body, and it's the most incredible sensation in the world.

She's trembling uncontrollably, her thighs shaking on either side of your hips, her hands gripping your chest. Her pussy keeps squeezing you, milking you, even as the aftershocks roll through her body. You're both panting, both wrecked, sweat-slick skin pressed together where her body meets yours.

"Fuck," she breathes, and then she collapses.

Her full weight lands on your chest, her face buried in your neck, her body still twitching with little tremors. Your cock is softening inside her but neither of you moves to separate. You can feel your cum inside her, warm and thick, and a small trickle of it leaking out around your shaft to drip down your balls.

"Holy shit," you manage.

"Mmmph." She doesn't lift her head. "Can't move. Dead. You killed me."

"What a way to go." She laughs weakly against your throat, and then she's lifting her head, just enough to find your mouth. The kiss is sloppy, uncoordinated, more breath than technique, but it's perfect. You can taste the salt of sweat on her lips, can feel her smile against your mouth.

"I love you," she murmurs between kisses.

"I love you too."

She lays her head back down on your chest, her body going boneless on top of you. Your softening cock slips out of her and you both wince slightly at the sensation. More cum drips out of her, you can feel it on your thighs; it's filthy, perfect and exactly what you both needed.

—

You've never been this nervous in your entire life. And that's saying something, because you've had some pretty nerve-wracking moments. The first dinner with Yujin, when she laid out the terms of your fake marriage. The wedding ceremony, saying vows you didn't know yet if you'd ever mean. The day the news broke and you watched her career teeter on the edge of destruction. The first time she said she loved you and you thought you might actually pass out.

But this. This is different.

You're sitting on the couch, and your leg won't stop bouncing. You've been sitting here for approximately three minutes, which feels like three hours, while Yujin is in the bathroom.

You run your hands through your hair for the fifteenth time. Stand up. Sit back down. Pick up your phone, put it back down without looking at it. Consider pacing but decide that's too dramatic. Resume bouncing your leg.

The bathroom door opens.

You're on your feet before you even realize you've moved. "So what?! What does it say? What—"

Yujin walks toward you. She's holding the test in her hand, the little plastic stick that's about to change everything. She stops in front of you, looks down at it, then looks up at you.

And holds it out.

Two lines. Clear as day. Unmistakable. Positive.

"I'm pregnant," she says softly.

You don't collapse so much as your legs simply stop working. One moment you're standing, the next you're sitting on the couch. Your vision goes slightly fuzzy around the edges. There's a ringing in your ears. "Hey. Hey, look at me." Yujin is kneeling in front of you now, her hands on your knees, her face swimming into focus. "Take a deep breath. Come on, in and out. There you go."

You breathe. In and out. In and out. The ringing fades slightly.

"Stay here. I'm getting you water." She disappears briefly and returns with a glass, pressing it into your shaking hands. You drink automatically, not really tasting it, your brain still trying to process the information it's been given. "It's okay,” she reassures you. "Everything's going to be alright. This is a magical moment, you know? One of the most important moments in a man's life. Finding out you're going to be a father. It's overwhelming. It's okay to feel overwhelmed."

She's rubbing your knee gently, looking up at you with those warm eyes, and something in the back of your malfunctioning brain finally clicks into place. "Wait a minute." You set the water glass down, blinking at her. "Wait. Hold on. You're the one who's pregnant."

"Yeah, that's generally how it works."

"So why am I the one having a breakdown while you comfort me?" I should be— here, sit down."

You pull her up onto the couch beside you, taking her hands in yours. "How are you feeling? Really. Tell me."

"Nervous." She laughs, a little breathless. "Really nervous. And excited. And scared. And happy." Her eyes are getting shiny. "Really, really happy. I can't even believe this is happening. Like, I keep looking at the test and expecting it to be wrong somehow. Expecting to wake up."

"It's real."

"It's real." A tear escapes, rolling down her cheek, and she laughs again, wiping it away. "God, I'm such a mess. My hormones are probably already going crazy."

"You're allowed to be a mess. You're growing a human being."

"We're growing a human being." She squeezes your hands. "This is ours. Yours and mine."

The weight of that hits you. Yours and mine. A child. A family.

"Six years," you say softly. "Last month was six years."

"I know." Her smile is watery but bright. "I can't believe it's been that long. I can't believe how much has changed."

Six years since that first awkward dinner. Six years since she told you the marriage was just on paper. Six years of slow mornings and late nights, of learning each other's rhythms, of fighting and making up and falling deeper in love with every passing day. Six years of birthdays and anniversaries and holidays, of career highs and industry scandals, of building something real from something that started as fake. "We went to Antarctica," you say, and you can't help but grin.

"We went to Antarctica." She laughs, shaking her head. "I still can't believe I let you talk me into that."

"You loved it,” you remember her.

"I was freezing the entire time."

"But you loved the penguins."

"The penguins were cute," she admits. "Everything else was miserable."

"Agree to disagree."

She laughs, recalling the absurdities of that trip, then her mind returns to the present situation. "This timing is crazy," she says, echoing your thoughts. "I just left IVE. I was supposed to be focusing on solo stuff. Acting. All these new opportunities."

"Those things will still be there. After."

"I know. It's just..." She sighs, leaning into you. "I had this whole plan. Solo debut next year, that drama offer I was considering, maybe some variety shows to keep my face out there. And now..."

"Now you have a different plan." You wrap an arm around her, pulling her close. "A better one."

"Do you really think so?"

"I think we're going to be amazing parents."

"You do?"

"I hope so, anyway." You pause, considering. "I mean, I'm going to prepare myself. I'm going to read books. There's this one called How Not to Kill Your Baby. Very popular, apparently."

Yujin pulls back to stare at you. "That cannot be the title of a book."

"I swear it is."

"No professional would use that title. That's not a real book."

"It's absolutely real. Bestseller, I swear.”

"Come on, you're making this up."

"I'm not! Okay, yes," you admit, breaking into a grin. "I made it up. But wouldn't it be cool if there was a book with that title?”

She's laughing again, burying her face in your shoulder. "You're so fucking ridiculous."

"You married me."

"I did." She lifts her head, and her eyes are shining with tears and joy. "I married you, and now I'm having your baby, and I love you so much it's actually stupid."

"I love you too." You cup her face in your hands, wiping away the tears with your thumbs. "So much. I've loved you for so long now that I can't remember what it felt like before."

She leans in and kisses you. Soft and sweet and full of promise. Full of everything you've built together and everything that's still to come. "We've been through so much," she murmurs against your lips. "Do you ever think about that? How crazy our story is?"

"All the time."

"I still remember when the marriage got revealed." She shudders slightly. "I thought my career was over. I really did. The backlash was so intense, and everyone was saying I'd betrayed the fans, and I thought... I thought I'd lost everything."

"But you didn't."

"I didn't." She smiles. "I gave them an ultimatum. Accept my marriage or lose me entirely. And they chose me."

"Of course they did. You're Ahn Yujin. You're irreplaceable."

"You're biased."

"Completely. Doesn't make it less true."

She takes your hand, interlacing your fingers, and looks down at them for a long moment. "Our story would make a great movie," she says softly.

"And we could take some creative liberties with the film’s script and give it a sense of suspense, leaning into the whole thing with our families. The wedding in the movie would be more like a ritual, kind of Eyes Wide Shut–style."

"What?" She looks up at you, horrified. "No. Not like Eyes Wide Shut. Why would you— that's not even— You know what? Forget I said anything. Forget the movie comparison. I should have known better."

"In my defense, you knew exactly who you were marrying."

"I did." She sighs, fond and exasperated in equal measure. "God help me, I did." She kisses you again, longer this time, deeper. Her hand comes up to rest on your chest, right over your heart, and you wonder if she can feel how fast it's beating. For her. For your child. For the life you're about to begin.

When she pulls back, her forehead rests against yours. "We're going to be parents,” she whispers.

"Terrifying,” you say.

"Exciting,” she retorts.

"Both." You kiss her forehead. She settles against you, her head on your shoulder, your arms wrapped around her. Outside of this expensive penthouse, nobody knows that two people who started as reluctant strangers have somehow become a family.

"I love you," she says softly.

"I love you too. Both of you." Her hand drifts down to rest on her still-flat stomach, and yours covers it.

[inlovewithpsychos]

Being a Yuji Itadori fan is so weird because what do you mean I feel weirdly protective and maternal towards him but at the same time also want him to choke and manhandle me

[kole-cooler]

Midnight Cowgirl

An Yujin x m!reader

13K words

The noise hits you before you even kill the engine. Multicolored lights bleed from Gaeul’s windows, strobing across the lawn and painting the other parked cars in shifting shades of electric blue and lurid pink. You should be at home, nursing a beer and rewatching a series you’ve already seen a dozen times. Instead, you’re here, on a rescue mission you resent with every fiber of your being.

Taking a deep breath you slide out of the car. The night air is cool, but it does little to combat the wave of humid, sweaty heat that blasts you as you pull open the front door. The party is in full swing. The house is packed wall-to-wall with a writhing mass of pirates, superheroes, and at least three different guys dressed as hot dogs. The combined scent of cheap beer, perfume, and something vaguely like burnt popcorn assaults your senses. Your mission is simple: find Gaeul, fix her crisis, and vanish back into the night before she sees you.

You’re barely two steps inside, trying to squeeze past a vampire and a fairy having a loud argument, when a hand clamps down on your arm.

“There you are! I thought you had crashed your car on the way.”

You turn to find Gaeul, your frantic, desperate friend and the reason you’re in this personal hell. She’s dressed as some kind of celestial witch, a midnight-blue velvet dress that clings to her frame, speckled with tiny, glittering silver stars. More stars are painted around her eyes, which are wide with relief and manic urgency. She looks incredible, but you’re in no mood to appreciate it. She starts pulling you through the crowd without waiting for a response.

“Seriously, what’s the big emergency? Did your Wi-Fi go out?” you ask, raising your pitch to be heard over a song with a truly obscene amount of bass. You stumble after her, trying your best not to step on anyone’s elaborate costume.

“Worse! So much worse. Just… come on!”

She navigates the sea of bodies with an expertise you can only envy, dragging you in her wake. Your eyes dart around reflexively, scanning faces, a frantic search engine running on a single, terrifying keyword: Yujin. Every flash of long, dark hair makes your heart seize. You see a girl with a familiar laugh and nearly go into cardiac arrest before realizing it’s just someone from one of your shared classes. This is torture. You’re a mouse in a maze where the cheese is a conversation you would rather die than have.

Gaeul finally shoves through a beaded curtain and hauls you up the stairs, the music mercifully dulling to a muffled, rhythmic pounding against the floorboards. She leads you into her bedroom and closes the door, plunging the two of you into relative silence. The room is a sanctuary of calm compared to the chaos downstairs. Posters of bands you’ve never heard of cover the walls, and a pile of clothes sits precariously on a desk chair. And there, on her desk, is the source of the emergency: her computer, its screen a cycling nightmare of glitching colors and error messages.

You drop onto her desk chair, which thankfully doesn’t collapse. “Okay, what did you do to it?”

She paces behind you, wringing her hands. The starlight on her dress shimmers with the movement. “I didn’t do anything! I was trying to queue up a new playlist for later, and it just… did that. It’s been restarting itself for an hour.” A dramatic sigh escapes her. “My entire life is on there.”

“Your life is not on there, Gaeul. Your meticulously organized collection of shitpost is on there,” you mutter, already tapping at the keyboard, trying to boot it into safe mode. You can fix this. It looks like a corrupted driver, maybe a botched update. Annoying, but not the world-ending catastrophe she’s making it out to be. It gives you something to focus on other than the Yujin-shaped anxiety monster chewing on your insides. “Why is fixing this so important right now? It’s your party.”

“Because I need it. For… stuff. Later stuff.” The explanation is so vague it’s practically transparent. She leans against the edge of her desk, crossing her arms over her chest. The velvet of her dress pulls taut. “So. Glad you could make it.”

“I’m not ‘making it.’ I’m your IT guy. I’m fixing this and then I’m bailing.”

Gaeul is quiet for a moment, watching you work.

Then, she drops the bomb. Casually.

“Yujin’s here, you know.”

Your fingers freeze over the keyboard for a fraction of a second. It’s a small, almost imperceptible hesitation, but you know she sees it. You force yourself to resume typing, your eyes glued to the lines of code appearing on the screen.

“Oh, yeah? Cool.” You make your tone as breezy and unconcerned as possible. It’s a masterful performance, or so you tell yourself.

“Yeah. She was asking where you were.”

Of course she was. You’ve been ignoring her texts for three weeks. You’ve crossed the street to avoid her on campus. You’ve turned a friendly, comfortable, years-long friendship into this… this agonizingly awkward minefield, all because you couldn’t keep your stupid, drunken mouth shut.

“I’ve just been swamped with that programming project,” you lie. “Barely had time to breathe. I’ll track her down and say hi before I head out.”

Gaeul hums, a low, knowing sound that makes the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. She knows you’re full of it. You just don’t know how she knows.

“You should. She looks… honestly? It’s kind of ridiculous how good she looks tonight.”

You don’t respond. You just keep working, focusing on the diagnostic report now running on the screen. Don’t take the bait. Don’t ask. If you ask, you’re admitting you care, and if you admit you care, you’re one step closer to having to face her.

But Gaeul, your wonderful, meddling friend, doesn’t need you to ask.

“She came as a cowgirl,” she continues. “Not, like, a cute, cartoony one. More like a… ‘I’ll ruin your life in the best way possible’ kind of cowgirl. It’s a whole situation.”

An image flashes in your mind, unbidden and unwelcome. Yujin. Tall, confident Yujin, with her impossibly long legs and that smile that always looks like she knows a secret you’re dying to hear. Yujin in a cowgirl outfit. You feel a flush of heat creep up your neck and you pray the dim lighting in the room hides it. You swallow hard, your mouth suddenly dry.

“Right. Cool.” Your reply is clipped, robotic.

“You’re really not going to stay for a bit?” The question is softer this time. “Come on. Just for one drink. It’s my party. I barely get to see you anymore.”

You finally fix the driver issue. The screen flickers, and the familiar desktop wallpaper of Gaeul’s cat appears, stable and blessedly error-free. You feel a surge of triumph. Your escape route is clear.

You push the chair back and stand up, finally turning to face her. You avoid her gaze, focusing on a poster behind her head.

“I can’t. Seriously. I have to work tomorrow. Not everyone can party like you, Gaeul.” You hate lying to Gaeul, but you’d hate facing Yujin even more.

Gaeul’s face falls. The starlight makeup can’t hide the genuine disappointment in her eyes. She knows you’re lying. You can see it in the slight press of her lips, the way her shoulders slump. But she doesn’t push it.

“Okay,” is all she says.

“Computer’s fixed,” you announce unnecessarily, gesturing toward the screen. “Just don’t download any weird stuff and you should be fine.”

“Thanks. For real. You’re a lifesaver.”

“Anytime.” You start for the door, your entire body humming with the need to be gone. “I’ll just… see myself out.”

“Wait,” she calls out, and you freeze with your hand on the doorknob. “Just… be careful. It’s a jungle out there.”

The comment is strange, but you brush it off as her just being Gaeul. You give her a weak, tight-lipped smile and slip out of the room, leaving her standing alone amidst the faint, glittering stars on her dress. The wall of noise and heat hits you again. Now for the hard part: getting out of the house unseen.

The staircase feels like a descent into the seventh circle of hell. The music gets louder with each step, the air growing thicker and warmer. You squeeze past a couple dressed as Romeo and Juliet who seem to be in the middle of a very dramatic, very public breakup. You offer a sympathetic grimace you don’t feel and keep moving.

Near the kitchen, a guy in a surprisingly realistic Shrek costume claps you on the shoulder.

“Dude! Didn’t think you were coming!”

You give him a tight, one-armed hug, your body angled toward the door the entire time. “Can’t stay long. Just came to drop something off for Gaeul.” Another lie to add to your growing collection for the evening.

“Bummer, man. We were about to start a game of…”

You’re already moving before he can finish the sentence, offering a vague wave over your shoulder. “Next time!”

You can see it now. The beautiful, rectangular outline of the front door. Freedom is ten feet away. Eight feet. Five. A couple of people are blocking the path, laughing loudly, but you see a gap. You can slip through it. You are so close, so incredibly close to making a clean getaway, to getting back to the safety of your car and the solitude of your apartment where you can properly wallow in your own self-inflicted misery.

Your hand is reaching for the doorknob when it happens.

Something coarse and surprisingly heavy snakes around your chest, cinching tight over your arms and pinning them to your sides. You lurch to a halt, pulled back with a force that almost knocks the wind out of you. Your first thought is that it’s some drunk idiot, a prank gone too far. You’re about to whip around and tell them exactly where they can shove their party trick when a sound cuts through the music.

“Yee-haw! Gotcha, partner!”

The exclamation is bright, playful, and so gut-wrenchingly familiar that every drop of blood in your body turns to ice.

No. It can’t be.

You turn around slowly, mechanically, as if your body is no longer under your own control. The rope, a genuine, honest-to-god lasso, is pulled taut. You follow its length to the person holding the other end, and your heart plummets directly into your shoes.

There she is. An Yujin.

Gaeul’s description didn’t do her justice. It wasn’t even in the same universe. She’s planted her feet, one hand holding the rope, the other resting cockily on her hip. She’s wearing a pair of scuffed, dark brown cowboy boots that come up to her mid-calf, showing off the ridiculously toned legs you’ve tried so hard not to stare at for the last three years. Above that is a short, black leather skirt that hugs the curve of her hips perfectly. The main event, though, is the crimson red vest she’s wearing. She has nothing on underneath it. Absolutely nothing. The deep V-neck displays an expanse of smooth, perfect skin and the delicate curve of her collarbones. A crisp white cowboy hat sits tilted on her head, shadowing her eyes just enough to make her look mysterious and dangerous. She is, without a doubt, the most incredible thing you have ever seen, and you have never wanted to be on another planet more than you do in this exact moment.

She’s beaming, a triumphant, brilliant smile that lights up her entire face. She tugs on the rope, pulling you a step closer.

“Well, well, well. Looks like I finally caught the most wanted fugitive in this here county.” The drawl she puts on is ridiculous and charming and you hate it. You hate every single thing about this. “You’ve been a hard one to track down.”

You try to muster a response, but your throat has closed up. Your brain is just a loop of static and panic. You’re trapped. She literally caught you.

You manage a weak, strangled laugh that sounds more like a cough. “Very funny, Yujin. Can you…?” You gesture vaguely with your head toward the rope.

“Now why would I do that?” She takes another step closer, reeling you in like a fish. The scent of her perfume, light and sweet, cuts through the stale party air. “A good sheriff never lets the bad guy go.”

You have to play along. If you don’t play along, the game ends, and the real, terrifying conversation begins.

“I think you’ve got the wrong guy,” you manage, finding some semblance of composure. “I’m a law-abiding citizen.”

“Oh yeah? My sources tell me you’ve been avoidin’ your civic duties. Namely, sayin’ hello to your best friend.”

A direct hit. She’s not even trying to be subtle.

“I… was just about to do that,” you lie, knowing how pathetic it sounds.

She tilts her head, and the smile never wavers. “Sure you were. On your way out the door.” She looks you up and down, a slow, deliberate appraisal. “I don’t recognize your costume, though. Who’re you supposed to be?”

You look down at your plain black hoodie and jeans. Your costume is a guy who didn’t want to come to a costume party.

“I’m an average guy. It’s a very meta, very subtle commentary on societal expectations.”

The explanation is so stupid it actually makes her laugh. For weeks, you’ve been starving for that sound while simultaneously running from it.

“An average guy, huh? Well, you’re my prisoner now, average guy.” Her happiness is radiant, and it makes you feel like even more of a heel for avoiding her.

You clear your throat, trying to regain some footing. “Your costume is… cool. Really cool.”

Her smile softens, turning from playful to genuinely pleased. “You think so? I wasn’t sure if it was too much.”

“No, it’s… it’s a whole situation,” you echo Gaeul’s sentiment without realizing it.

“A situation? I’ll take it.” She gives the rope another gentle tug. “So, where were you running off to in such a hurry? The average-guy convention?”

“Ha. No, I just… I have to work in the morning. Early start.” There’s that flimsy excuse again. It feels even more transparent under her direct, knowing gaze.

She raises a single, perfect eyebrow. “Really. Me too. And yet, here I am, at a party, wranglin’ my best friend who’s trying to ghost me.”

“Yujin, I wasn’t…”

“Can we talk?” she cuts you off, her expression shifting completely. The bright, cowgirl persona melts away, leaving just her. Just Yujin. And she looks… sad. “Just for five minutes. Somewhere we don’t have to shout.”

You want to say no. Every self-preservation instinct you possess is screaming at you to make another excuse, to squirm your way out of this and run. But the sight of her looking at you like that, her usual confidence replaced with a quiet, pleading uncertainty, completely undoes you. You’ve never been able to say no to that look.

“Okay. Yeah, okay. But you have to let me go first.”

She grins, a small, relieved twist of her lips. “Deal.”

She expertly shakes her wrist, and the lasso loosens, falling away from your chest. You’re free, but you feel more trapped than ever. As you rub your arms, she begins coiling the rope with a practiced efficiency.

“You’re surprisingly good with that thing,” you observe, desperate to fill the silence.

She laughs, a much quieter, more intimate sound this time. “You have no idea. I’ve been practicing in my backyard all week. Pretty sure my neighbors think I’m insane.” She finishes coiling the rope and hangs it from her belt. “I can almost certainly rope a stationary trash can now. You were my first moving target.”

She came here tonight with a rope and a plan. And you walked right into her trap.

She gestures with her head toward a hallway you hadn't even noticed, tucked away behind the staircase. You nod mutely and follow. It feels like walking the green mile. Every instinct is telling you to turn, to bolt, to make a run for it and never look back. But you can’t. Not when she asked like that. Not when you saw that flicker of hurt in her eyes.

You walk a few paces behind her, your eyes fixed on the coiled rope hanging from her hip. It sways with the confident, easy rhythm of her walk, a walk you know as well as your own heartbeat. As you pass the archway to the main living room, you catch a glimpse of Gaeul across the crowd. She’s talking to someone, but her eyes meet yours for a split second. A slow smile spreads across her face before she gives you a tiny, almost imperceptible thumbs-up.

The pieces click into place with an audible, sickening clang in your mind.

The panicked phone call. The nonsensical, party-ending computer emergency. Her insistence that you come right away. Her casual mention of Yujin. Of course this was a setup. There was never any other way this night was going to go.

Yujin leads you through the hallway and pushes open a door that leads out onto a small, dimly lit back patio. A couple of forgotten folding chairs sit in the corner, but otherwise, it’s empty. The manic energy of the party is muted out here, the bass a dull, distant pulse against the quiet chirp of crickets. The air is cooler, cleaner. There’s nowhere to run.

She doesn't sit. She just turns to face you, leaning back against the brick wall of the house. She pulls the cowboy hat from her head, shaking her dark hair loose. She fidgets with the brim, not looking at you.

“So,” she begins, her focus entirely on the hat in her hands. The silence stretches. She’s waiting for you to say something, but your mind is a blank slate of white-hot panic. “How have you been?”

“Fine.” It’s a colossal lie. You’ve been the opposite of fine. You’ve been a walking ball of anxiety, replaying that one stupid, drunken night on a loop, cringing so hard you’re surprised you haven’t physically imploded.

You feel a pathetic need to fill the silence. “You?”

She finally looks up from the hat, and her eyes find yours in the dim light. “I don’t know, actually.” A small, humorless smile touches her lips. “A little strange, I guess.”

Your heart sinks. Here it comes.

“Strange how?” you ask, even though you know the answer. You’re just delaying the inevitable.

She takes a small breath. “I’ve been feeling confused, mostly.” She takes a step closer, and you have to fight the primal urge to take a step back. “And I guess I just have to ask. Why have you been avoiding me? Did I do something wrong?”

The question is so direct, so devoid of any accusation. It’s just pure, genuine confusion, and it’s a thousand times worse than if she’d been angry. Anger you could handle. This gentle, wounded bewilderment, you cannot.

“What? No.” The denial comes out rushed, forceful. “No, Yujin, of course not. You didn’t do anything.”

“Then I don’t get it.” She gestures vaguely with the hat. “One minute, everything’s normal, and the next, you’re looking at me like I’m about to serve you legal papers. You’re dodging my texts, you’re conveniently busy every single time I suggest we hang out… I just feel like I’m going crazy.”

She pauses, her gaze searching yours for some kind of explanation. “I thought maybe I said something stupid, or I offended you somehow, but I’ve gone over everything, and I just…” She shakes her head, her hair catching the faint light from the house. “I can’t think of anything.”

“It’s not you. I swear,” you insist. “It’s me. I’ve just been… busy. Stressed.”

“That’s the thing, though,” she continues, completely ignoring your weak defense. “Right before you started being so ‘busy,’ I heard something. From Liz. She said some of our friends were talking about you.”

This is it. The point of no return.

“She told me… that you said some things about me.” A real smile, small and shy, appears on her face for the first time since you came outside. It’s a devastatingly beautiful sight. “A lot of really nice things, apparently. Things you’d never say to my face.”

Your entire body tenses up. That stupid, drunken, rambling monologue you’d delivered to your friends. A multi-point presentation on the perfection of An Yujin, complete with footnotes and a gushing bibliography. Oh god.

“When she told me that, I was… really happy,” she confesses, her focus dropping back to the hat in her hands. “It was nice to hear.”

You have to say something. Your silence is a confession in itself.

“Well… it’s true. All of it.”

Her smile widens just a little. She looks up at you again. “Okay. So that’s what I don’t understand.” She takes another small step forward. You could reach out and touch her now if you dared.

“Liz also told me about the end of that conversation,” she says, her tone becoming even softer. “About what you told them after a few too many shots at that party a few weeks ago. That you… that you really liked me.”

She says it so simply, so matter-of-factly. All the air leaves your body in a rush. The secret you’ve been guarding with your life, the one that’s been eating you alive with embarrassment, is just out there now, hanging in the space between you.

“So I’ve been thinking about that,” she continues. “And then I think about how you’ve been treating me like a stranger for the last three weeks. And the two things just don’t add up. You’re sending the most confusing signals I’ve ever gotten in my life.”

She looks at you, her face open and vulnerable and completely wrecking your carefully constructed defenses. All the panic, all the fear, all the weeks of agonizing cringe… it all feels so stupid in the face of her honesty.

“It made me start to wonder,” she says, so quiet you have to strain to hear it over the distant music and the frantic pounding of your own heart. “Those things you said… the compliments, and… the other thing. Were they not true? Did you just say all that because you were drunk?”

Did you just say all that because you were drunk?

This is it. This is your exit ramp. The get-out-of-jail-free card you’ve been praying for. All you have to do is say yes. Yes, it was the booze talking. Yes, you were exaggerating. You can laugh it off, tell her you’re just a sentimental drunk and the embarrassment of it all is why you’ve been acting so weird. She would understand. Dude, she’s Yujin; she’s the most understanding person you know. She would punch you playfully on the arm, call you an idiot, and just like that, the crushing weight would be gone. Things could go back to normal. You could go back to being friends, watching movies, getting takeout, the comfortable, easy rhythm of your life resuming its beat.

But as you look at her, standing there in the dim light of the patio, her cowboy hat clutched in her hands like a sheriff who let the bandit escape, her expression so open and vulnerable, you know you can’t do it. The lie forms on your tongue and dissolves into poison before you can speak it. Lying to her right now would feel like kicking a puppy. It would be a fundamental betrayal of everything your friendship has ever been. And who are you kidding? You haven’t had a decent night’s sleep in weeks. A lie this big wouldn’t fix that; it would just haunt you in new and more inventive ways.

You let out a long, slow breath, the kind you make before you jump off a cliff. Your eyes finally meet hers, holding her gaze for the first time all night.

“No. It was all true. Every word of it.”

Her breath hitches. It’s a tiny, almost inaudible sound, but you see the subtle shift in her posture, the way her grip tightens on the brim of her hat. She was prepared for you to lie. She wasn’t prepared for this.

“Then… why?” The question comes out frayed around the edges. “Why didn’t you just… say something? To me?”

A bitter, humorless laugh escapes you. “Say something? What was I supposed to do, Yujin? Walk up to you and be like, ‘Hey, best friend, sorry to interrupt our regularly scheduled programming, but I think I’m in love with you’? You have to know how insane that sounds.” You shove your hands in your hoodie pockets, partly from the chill and partly to keep them from shaking. “You’re my best friend. I didn’t want to… complicate things. To make it weird.”

“Did you ever stop to think,” she begins, “that maybe I’d want things to be complicated? That maybe I felt the same way?”

It’s the thought that has kept you up at night even more than the embarrassment. The terrifying ‘what if’ that feels far more perilous than simple, one-sided pining.

“It’s more complicated than that,” you deflect.

“No, dude, it’s not,” she counters immediately, taking another step forward. The front of her boots are nearly touching yours now. “We’re not complicated. You’re making it complicated. Just say what you feel. All of it.”

You look away, your gaze fixing on a crack in the patio concrete. You have to make her understand the fear. “Do you remember… after Wonyoung and I broke up? We stayed up all night talking in your house.”

She nods slowly. “Yeah. Parts of it. You drank way too much cheap whiskey.”

“I told you I didn’t want to fall in love again,” you continue. “That it wasn’t worth it. The drama, the fallout… all of it. I told you I was done.” You look back at her. “I was serious, Yujin. And for a while, it worked. I was fine. Happy, even.”

You pause, gathering the courage to say the next part. “And then the worst possible thing happened. My feelings for you… they started to shift. To evolve into something else. One day I woke up and I realized I wasn’t just fine. I was falling for you. And it terrified me.”

Her brow furrows, a flicker of something that looks like offense in her eyes. “The worst possible thing? What’s so terrible about falling in love with me?”

The question is so blunt, so Yujin, that it startles a genuine laugh out of you.

“What?” The knot in her brow deepens. “It’s a valid question. Half the guys in that party haven’t been able to take their eyes off me since I got here.”

“I know that,” you say, the laugh softening into a sad smile. “Trust me, I am acutely aware of that. It has nothing to do with you. You’re… you’re Yujin. You’re incredible. That’s the whole problem. The problem is that you’re my best friend. You’re the one person I can’t lose. A relationship can end. People break up, and they stop talking, and they become strangers who know all of each other’s secrets. I can’t do that with you. I need you around.”

“So let me get this straight,” She puts her hat back on her head, as if that would give her some kind of authority. Maybe it does. “In order to make sure you have me around… you decided to start avoiding me completely. To ignore my texts and run away from me at parties. That doesn’t make much sense, does it?”

She’s right. It’s indefensible. Hearing her lay it out so plainly makes you feel like the world’s biggest idiot.

“Did you and Gaeul plan this whole thing?” you ask, a desperate attempt to change the subject, to get out from under the weight of her flawless logic. “The computer crisis, the rope… this was an ambush, wasn’t it?”

In a swift, fluid motion, she closes the final gap between you. She removes the rope from her belt and lets it fall to the floor, then she puts both of her hands flat on the front of your hoodie, her palms warm against your chest. She’s tall, but with the boots on, she feels imposing. She has you completely and utterly cornered.

“Don’t change the subject,” she commands.

“Easy, cowgirl,” you mutter, your heart hammering against her hands.

“I’m serious.” Her gaze is intense, unwavering. “Stop hiding.”

You look at her, at the genuine concern warring with frustration on her face, and the last of your defenses crumble. The truth comes out, raw and unfiltered.

“I don’t know if I can do it again, Yujin,” you confess. “The whole ‘love’ thing. I think… I think Wonyoung might have broken that part of me. I don’t want to drag you into my emotional mess. You mean too much to me to do that to you. To risk hurting you because I’m… screwed up.”

Her expression softens. Her hands slide from your chest up to your shoulders, her grip gentle but firm.

“But don’t you see? By trying not to hurt me, you’re hurting me anyway. This is worse. Being pushed away by my best friend for reasons I don’t understand? Feeling like I did something wrong? That hurts. A lot.”

She leans in just a little closer, her face inches from yours.

“I’m not asking you to be perfect,” she says, her entreaty a fragile, heartfelt plea. “I’m just asking you not to do this to me. To us. Please. Don’t run away from me anymore.”

You try to form a coherent thought, to say something, anything, that will make sense of the situation, but all that comes out is a raw, frayed whisper. “Yujin, please…”

“Please what?”

Please stop? Please leave you alone? Please kiss you until you forget your own name? She moves even closer, the motion so subtle you barely register it until the tip of her nose brushes against yours. Your breath catches in your throat, trapped. Without thinking, without permission from your panicked brain, your hands find their way to her waist, settling on the warm, bare skin of her back just above the line of her leather skirt. Her skin is unbelievably soft.

You grasp for one last, desperate excuse, the final flimsy shield your cowardice can muster. “You’re drunk.”

A small, knowing smile plays on her lips. She doesn't pull away. “I’m not.” The assertion is confident, steady. “Well. Maybe a little.” She concedes, the smile widening. “But I was sober enough to rope you from ten feet away. My motor skills are clearly intact.”

Your grip on her waist tightens reflexively. “I just… I don’t know if I’m the best guy for you right now. I’m a mess.”

“Good thing that’s not for you to decide,” she murmurs, her warm breath ghosting across your lips.

And then she kisses you.

It’s over. It’s all over, boy. The world narrows to a single point of contact: her mouth on yours. Years of friendship, weeks of agonizing tension, a lifetime of unspoken feelings all combust in a single, silent explosion. Her lips are even softer and fuller than you’d imagined, plump and sweet with a faint taste of the cherry soda she was drinking earlier. It is, without any hint of exaggeration, fucking insane.

She isn't tentative. It’s a kiss of certainty, of relief, a deep and consuming press of her mouth to yours that sends shockwaves down to your toes. You respond on pure instinct, kissing her back with a desperate hunger you didn’t know you possessed. One of her hands slides from your shoulder to cup the back of your neck, her fingers tangling in your hair, pulling you closer still. The kiss seems to stretch on for an eternity, a perfect, timeless moment where the muffled party music and the chirping crickets and your entire complicated, messy life just cease to exist.

When she finally pulls back, it’s only by an inch. Her eyes, when they open, are shining, impossibly bright in the dim light. Her cheeks are flushed, and as a breathless smile spreads across her face, her famous dimples make an appearance. They’re deeper, more pronounced than you’ve ever seen them, two perfect little craters in her cheeks that you suddenly have the overwhelming urge to trace with your thumb.

You’re the first to break the charged silence. “My hands are shaking.”

She lets out a shaky laugh, the sound like music. “Mine too. See?” She lifts one of her hands from your shoulder, and you can see the faint tremor in her fingers.

That’s all it takes. Seeing her, just as affected, just as overwhelmed as you are, gives you all the courage you need.

“I guess we're fucked then,” you murmur, before leaning in and kissing her again.

This time is different. The first kiss was a question being answered. This one is a statement. You pull her flush against you, closing any remaining space between your bodies. Your hands, no longer hesitant, begin to roam. They slide down from her waist, over the curve of her hips, past the smooth, cool leather of her skirt. You palm her ass, your fingers digging into the full, fleshy curve. It’s even rounder, heavier, more perfect than you’d imagined. So full. A sharp, hitched breath escapes her as you give a firm squeeze, pulling her impossibly closer, letting her feel the hard evidence of just how much you want her pressed against her stomach.

You break the kiss, resting your forehead against hers, both of you breathing hard.

“Everything okay there, sheriff?” you tease.

A mischievous glint enters her eyes. Her lips curve into a wicked smile. Instead of answering, she crashes her mouth against yours again. This time, her tongue immediately slips past your lips, tangling with yours in a wet, searching dance. It’s sloppy and perfect and utterly intoxicating. She kisses you with a raw, demanding passion, ending it by nipping your bottom lip, a sharp, pleasant sting that makes you groan into her mouth.

You’re both panting now, chests heaving.

“We need to do this,” she says, the statement leaving no room for argument. “Right now.”

Your brain struggles to catch up. “Here? You know Gaeul doesn't like it when people have sex at her house.”

“She will never find out. There’s no one around,” she reasons, glancing around the empty patio. She moves you backward until the back of your knees hit a low wooden bench tucked into the darkest corner of the patio. “Sit.”

You do as you’re told, your legs feeling about as steady as newborn fawns. Before you can even get your bearings, she’s pushing your shoulders back, straddling your lap, and settling her weight down on you. The feeling of her, the heat and solid weight of her body through her thin leather skirt, nearly makes you see stars. She wraps her arms around your neck, her crimson vest gaping open, offering an impossible, tantalizing view of the swell of her breasts.

“Okay,” she whispers, her breath hot against your ear. “Important question time.” She pulls back just enough to look you in the eye. “Do you have a condom?”

“No,” you admit, a wry smile touching your lips. “I didn’t think I’d need one when I came over to fix Gaeul’s computer.”

She lets out a low, throaty chuckle, the sound vibrating through your chest. “Fair enough.” She leans in again, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to the corner of your mouth. “It’s okay,” she murmurs against your skin, her lips trailing toward your jaw. “I don’t think we’ll need one tonight.”

“Are you… are you sure about that?”

She pulls back to look at you, a confident, almost feral glimmer in her eyes. “Positive.” A sly smirk plays on her lips. “Worst case scenario, I’m on the pill. We’re good.”

As if to punctuate the decision, she shifts her weight and smoothly slides off your lap, her leather skirt whispering against the denim of your jeans. You expect her to sit beside you, to kiss you again, to continue the frantic, heated pace. Instead, she gracefully drops to her knees on the cool flagstones of the patio, right between your legs. She stays there for a moment, looking up at you from under her lashes.

You reach out, your hand slightly trembling, and gently lift the hat from her head, setting it carefully on the bench beside you.

Her gaze never leaves yours as her hands move to the button of your jeans. She works it free with nimble fingers, and the sound of your zipper being pulled down is deafening in the relative quiet. She hooks her thumbs into the waistband of your jeans and your boxers, and with a single, fluid motion, pulls them down your legs, the rough denim scraping against your skin. They pool around your ankles, trapping you.

The cool night air hits your bare skin, a shocking, electric sensation that makes you twitch. And then her hands are on you.

“Oh, wow,” a soft gasp escapes her.

Her hands are warm, so incredibly warm, a stark contrast to the chill. They wrap around your cock, which is already painfully hard, throbbing with a desperate, frantic pulse. Her touch is hesitant at first, curious, as if she’s just acquainting herself with the shape and feel of you. Her thumbs stroke over the sensitive head, smearing the slick pre-cum, and a low, involuntary groan rumbles in your chest.

“Yujin…” Your plea is just her name.

“Shhh,” she murmurs, her eyes wide with what looks like genuine awe as she looks down at you in her hands. “Just… wow. It’s perfect.” She begins to stroke you then, a slow, deliberate rhythm, her grip firm and sure. The sensation is incredible, a friction that is both maddeningly slow and overwhelmingly intense. “I can’t believe I’ve been friends with you for this long and I had no idea you were hiding this.”

Before you can fully process the mind-melting reality of her hands on you, she leans forward. You see her intention a second before it happens, and your stomach plummets. She lowers her head, her long, dark hair brushing against your inner thighs, a feather-light touch that makes you shudder.

And then her mouth is on you.

Her lips are wet and impossibly soft as they close over the head of your cock. It’s a gentle, exploratory touch at first, a soft kiss that sends a lightning bolt straight to the base of your spine. Then she makes a soft humming sound, a little murmur of approval, and takes you deeper. The initial shock is so intense your hips jerk off the bench. Her hand comes up to rest on your thigh, a steadying, reassuring pressure.

There is nothing in your life that could have prepared you for this. The feeling of her hot, wet mouth, the gentle suction she creates, the way her tongue traces lazy, tormenting circles around the most sensitive part of you. It’s a sensory overload. You tip your head back against the wall behind the bench, your eyes squeezing shut as you try to process the sheer, overwhelming pleasure of it all.

Your hands, acting on their own accord, find their way into her hair. It’s just as silky as you always imagined. You fist your hands in the dark strands, not pulling, just holding on, anchoring yourself to reality as she sends you spinning into oblivion.

She picks up the pace, her head bobbing in a steady, hypnotic rhythm. Her other hand is still busy, wrapped around the base of your shaft, stroking you in time with the movements of her mouth. She takes you as deep as she can, the back of her throat tickling against your tip, and you let out a choked groan, the sound torn from you against your will. You have to bite down on your lip, hard, to keep from shouting her name.

She seems to sense your struggle, because she slows down, pulling back just enough to look up at you. Her eyes are dark, hooded with lust, her lips plump and shiny. A thin trail of saliva glistens at the corner of her mouth, and the sight is so incredibly, devastatingly hot that you feel yourself twitching in her grasp.

A satisfied smile spreads across her face as she feels it. She doesn't say anything. She just winks at you before lowering her head again, this time with a renewed, more aggressive purpose. She’s not just sucking you now; she’s devouring you. Her tongue works magic, swirling and flicking, finding nerves you didn’t even know you had. She takes all of you, her cheeks hollowing with the effort, the slick, wet sounds of her mouth on you echoing in the quiet night.

She takes you deeper than you thought possible, and a soft, choked gag escapes the back of her throat. The sound, so raw and involuntary, it’s the most obscene, beautiful noise you’ve ever heard. Her eyes, which had been squeezed shut in concentration, flutter open and meet yours. They’re dark, blown wide with effort and pure, feral lust.

Just as you think you’ve adjusted to the overwhelming sensation, she changes tactics. She slides her mouth off you with a wet, sloppy sound, leaving your dick glistening with her spit and painfully exposed to the cool night air. A frustrated groan escapes you. You think she’s stopping, taking a break.

But she’s not stopping. Oh, no. She’s just getting started.

Her gaze drops from your eyes, down your torso, to the base of your cock. Her hot breath ghosts over your balls, making the sensitive skin tighten and prickle with anticipation. And then her mouth is on them.

The sensation is so alien, so unexpected, that a sharp, ragged gasp is torn from your lungs. It’s nothing like the friction on your shaft. This is a gentle, lapping warmth, a soft, suckling pressure that sends a completely different kind of pleasure jolting through your system. Her tongue, warm and wet, laves over you, tracing the delicate seam, and your toes curl so hard in your sneakers you’re surprised you don’t cramp up.

One of her hands remains wrapped firmly around your shaft, her thumb stroking lazy circles around your piss-slit while her mouth works its magic below. She takes one of your balls fully into the heat of her mouth, sucking gently, a low, appreciative hum vibrating from her throat, through her jaw, and directly into your nuts. It’s fucking insane. You have to clench your jaw, your teeth grinding together to keep from screaming her name into the quiet night.

“You taste so good,” she murmurs against your skin. “Salty. Fucking perfect.”

She gives you one last, long lick, like she’s savoring the last bite of a perfect meal, before moving back up. You brace yourself for her to take your whole length again, for that all-consuming friction to return. But Yujin, your clever, cruel Yujin, has other plans.

Her mouth bypasses your shaft entirely. Her lips close only around the very tip of your cock, and then her tongue comes out to play.

It’s torture. It’s the most exquisite form of torture ever devised.

She licks you like a lollipop, slow, deliberate swirls of her tongue around the sensitive corona. The friction is targeted, precise, a million volts of pure electricity zeroing in on the most sensitive nerve endings you possess. You can feel the distinct, rough texture of her tongue, the soft, yielding pressure of her lips. She uses just the very tip of her own tongue to trace the opening of your urethra, and your whole body seizes, a guttural noise ripped from your chest as your hips buck off the bench.

“Like that? You like it when I do this?”

You can’t form words. You just nod dumbly, your head thumping against the brick wall behind you, your hands tightening their grip in her hair.

“Good,” she breathes, and her pace quickens. It’s a relentless, merciless assault on your senses. She sucks and licks and swirls, slobbering all over the head of your dick, her spit acting as a slick, hot lubricant as her lips slide back and forth over the flared ridge. Every now and then, she scrapes her teeth, just a little, a sharp, dangerous thrill that sends another wave of fire through your veins.

The pressure is building, a deep, coiling knot of heat low in your belly. It’s a slow burn, a tormenting climb that feels a thousand miles away from release, yet threatens to consume you at any second.

She pulls away, leaving you panting and aching, your dick slick with her spit and standing at painful attention. You’re a mess, completely undone, but one look at her tells you she’s just as far gone. Her face is flushed a deep red, her chest is heaving, and her dark eyes are glazed over with a thick, heavy coat of pure lust.

“Fuck,” she groans. “That made me so fucking horny. Just… watching you.” She pushes herself up with a fluid, feline grace, standing before you. She reaches down and hooks her thumbs into the waistband of her black leather skirt. “Look,” she commands.

She lifts the skirt slowly, deliberately, revealing a pair of simple, white cotton panties. And right in the center, between her legs, is a dark, spreading wet spot that makes your half-hard cock jolt back to life. It’s not just a little damp; the fabric is soaked, clinging transparently to the swell of her mound and the shape of her pussy lips beneath. Her fingers drift down. She presses her fingertips against the wet fabric, right over her clit, and a shiver visibly racks her body. Her eyes flutter shut for a second.

“This,” she says. “This is what you did to me. Just by being on your knees. Feel how wet you made me.”

Before you can even respond, she lets the skirt drop and moves back to you. She straddles your lap again, settling her weight down, and this time, there’s no hesitation. You can feel the heat of her cunt through her wet panties. She grinds down once, a slow, deliberate circle, and a strangled noise escapes your throat.

With one hand, she reaches down between your bodies, hooking a finger into the side of her panties and pulling the soaked fabric aside. Oh, fuck. You’re about to feel her, the wet, naked heat of her slit pressing against the head of your cock. You instinctively push your hips up, desperate for the contact.

But she stops you. Her hand comes up to your chest, pressing you back against the bench.

“No. Not yet,” she orders, her breath coming in short, sharp pants. “I want to hear you say it first.”

“Say what?” you ask.

“Everything,” she clarifies, leaning in close, her hot breath puffing against your lips. “I want you to tell me how fucking bad you’ve wanted this. Tell me how hot you think I am. I want to hear you say you’ve been dying to fuck me. Tell me. Now.”

Her eyes search yours, a flicker of something almost vulnerable beneath the lust. “I’ve wanted you since you were still with Wonyoung,” she confesses. “I used to watch you two together and just… think about being the one you were holding. Is that fucked up for me to say?” She doesn’t wait for an answer. “Fuck it. It’s the truth. I’ve been waiting for this for years.”

Your hands come up to her vest, As your fingers work at the buttons, the words she demanded start pouring out of you, a torrent of filth you’ve held back for years.

Unbuttoned

“I’ve wanted to fuck you since the day I met you,” you start. Her eyes immediately glaze over, her pupils dilating. “I think you’re the hottest girl I’ve ever seen. I’ve thought about these tits,” you say, pushing the two sides of the vest open, exposing her perfect, braless breasts to the cool night air. Her nipples are hard, pebbled peaks, begging for your mouth. “I’ve thought about sucking on these nipples until you scream.”

A soft, desperate moan escapes her lips. She’s not just listening; she’s getting off on it, her whole body trembling on your lap.

“I’ve thought about bending you over every piece of furniture in my apartment,” you continue. “I’ve jerked off thinking about this ass,” you say, your hands sliding down to cup the full, heavy weight of it, squeezing hard. “I’ve imagined how fucking tight your pussy would feel wrapped around my cock. How wet you’d get for me.” You lean in, your lips brushing her ear. “I want to ruin you, Yujin. I want to fuck you so hard you can’t walk straight for a week.”

You pull back to look at her. She’s a complete wreck. Her face is flushed, her lips are parted, and her eyes are barely focused. She’s panting, grinding her wet, exposed slit against your thigh, chasing a friction that isn’t there yet.

“Is that what you wanted to know, cowgirl?” you ask.

She just nods, unable to speak, her eyes pleading with you.

“Yes,” she finally chokes out.

You grip her hips, guiding her, positioning her. She rises up just slightly, her wet cunt hovering directly over the head of your thick, waiting dick. And then, with a low, satisfied groan, she sits down.

The feeling is absolute heaven. She’s so fucking wet, her slick pussy lips parting easily as she slowly, deliberately, impales herself on you. She’s impossibly hot and tight, her inner walls clenching around you, gripping your cock in a perfect, suffocating embrace as she takes you inch by agonizing inch.

A sharp, loud hiss escapes through her teeth as your thick cockhead pushes past her pussy lips, and you have to bite down on your own tongue to keep from shouting. You feel every ridge, every fold of her cunt as she sinks down, her inner walls clenching and milking you, until you’re buried balls-deep inside her. You’re both completely still for a moment, chests heaving, just processing the overwhelming sensation of being finally, fully connected. Her eyes are wide, locked on yours.

“Oh my god,” she breathes out. “You’re… you’re so big. I can feel you all the way up inside me.”

Then, she moves.

It’s just a slow, tentative rock at first, a slight forward and back motion. A test. The feeling of her wet slit sliding up and down your shaft is so good it’s almost painful. A low, guttural groan is ripped from your chest, and her face breaks into a wide, breathless grin. The dimples are back, deeper than ever.

“Fuck,” she laughs, a giddy, breathless sound. “I can’t believe we’re actually doing this.”

“On a bench,” you add. “At Gaeul’s party.”

“Gaeul is a goddamn hero,” she declares, and then she starts to really move.

She lifts her hips, pulling your cock almost all the way out of her slick cunt, the head of your dick rubbing against her clit on the way up, and then she slams herself back down, taking all of you in a single, greedy gulp.

“Ah! Fuck, Yujin!” your hips buck up off the bench to meet her thrust.

“You like that?” she moans, her eyes fluttering shut. “Like when I take it all?”

“Yes,” you pant, your hands gripping her hips, your thumbs digging into the soft flesh above her ass. “Don’t stop.”

She doesn’t. She finds a rhythm, a hard, steady pace that has her magnificent, heavy tits bouncing in the dim light. The sound is incredible. The wet, slapping sound of her pussy meeting your groin, a filthy, percussive beat that syncs up with the distant, muffled thud of the party music. It’s the best song you’ve ever heard. You just watch her, completely mesmerized. Her head is thrown back, her long, dark hair trailing down her back, her face a perfect mask of ecstatic pleasure. Her mouth is open, and a steady stream of soft, breathy moans escapes her lips with every downward thrust.

She leans forward, bracing her hands on your shoulders, her face just inches from yours. “Fuck me,” she pants, her forehead slick with a thin sheen of sweat. “Don’t just sit there. Fuck me back.”

You start to move, matching her rhythm, thrusting up hard every time she comes down. It’s not just her riding you anymore; you’re fucking her, your hips slamming into her with a bruising force that makes her gasp.

“Yes! Like that!” she squeals. The force of one particularly hard thrust makes her let out a sound that’s halfway between a moan and a snort.

The ridiculous noise breaks the tension for a split second. A laugh bursts out of you.

“Did you just snort?” you ask, grinning like an idiot.

She glares at you, but there’s no heat in it. Her lips are quirked into a smile. “Shut up and fuck me, you asshole,” she laughs, and then she’s kissing you, a deep, sloppy, open-mouthed kiss that tastes like her and spit and pure horniness.

Slowly, the pace becomes punishing. She’s riding you like she’s trying to break you, her hips a blur of motion. You can feel her pussy walls clenching and spasming around your cock, milking you, trying to pull every last drop of cum from your balls.

“You’re so fucking tight,” you groan, sliding one hand from her hip down between her legs. Her own slickness coats your fingers as you search for her clit. You find the hard little nub hidden beneath her pussy lips and start rubbing, your thumb moving in firm, quick circles that match the frantic rhythm of your fucking.

Her reaction is instantaneous and explosive.

“HOLY FUCK!” she screams, her back arching so hard she almost comes off you. Her cunt clenches down on your dick like a vise, and her eyes roll back in her head. “RIGHT THERE! DON’T STOP!”

You don’t. You keep fucking up into her, your thumb driving her completely insane. Her nails dig into your shoulders, but you barely feel the pain. All you can focus on is the sight of her coming completely undone on top of you, the feeling of her tight, wet pussy clenching around your cock, and the raw, filthy sounds she’s making. The pressure in your own balls is building, a hot, coiling snake of need that’s getting harder and harder to ignore.

She’s right on the edge, her whole body trembling, her inner walls starting to flutter around you in the unmistakable prelude to her orgasm. You give her one more hard, deep thrust, your thumb pressing down hard on her clit.

“WAIT!” she screams, her body going rigid. She stops moving completely, her hands flying from your shoulders to grip your wrists, stilling your hand. “Wait… holy shit. Don’t. Don’t move.”

She throws her head back, panting, her chest heaving, a sheen of sweat covering her entire body. She’s poised on the absolute precipice, the very peak of her orgasm, and she’s holding herself there, refusing to fall, her pussy clenched so tight around your dick you feel like you might just lose your mind.

She hangs there for a second, a beautiful, obscene statue of pure lust, her entire body clenched tight around your dick. You can feel the frantic, fluttering spasms of her pussy walls, her orgasm right there, a millimeter away from spilling over. But with a shuddering, heroic effort of will, she pulls back from the edge. A long, shaky breath escapes her lips.

“No,” she pants, shaking her head as if to clear it. “Not yet. Fuck… it’s too good. I don’t want it to be over yet.” She looks down at you. “We’re not done.”

And then she starts to move again.

The pace is just as relentless, but the quality has changed. It’s no longer a frantic chase; it’s a deep, punishing, claiming rhythm. She grinds her hips, sinking down onto your cock with a heavy, deliberate force that makes you groan, her pussy lips squeezing and milking you with every slow, powerful rotation. Your hands find their way to her ass again, but you’re not just holding on anymore. You’re mauling her. You dig your fingers into the heavy, soft flesh of her cheeks, kneading the muscle, pulling her down even harder onto your dick with every single thrust. You can feel the skin heating up under your palms, and you know you’re going to leave red, angry handprints all over her perfect ass.

“Fuck, yes,” she moans, thick and guttural as she feels your grip tighten. “Leave marks on me. I want to feel this tomorrow.”

You hook your hands under her ass cheeks, lifting her just slightly and then slamming her back down onto your cock with all your strength.

“Like that?” you grunt.

“YES!” she screams, the sound echoing in the quiet night.

It’s not enough. You need more. You need her closer. Gripping her hips, you haul her upper body down towards you. She collapses against your chest, her bare tits pressing into your collarbones. The sight of them is maddening. They’re perfect, full and round, her nipples still hard, pebbled peaks, glistening with a thin sheen of sweat. Without another thought, you lower your head and take one into your mouth.

The effect on her is instantaneous.

Her entire body jolts as if struck by lightning. A shocked, high-pitched squeal escapes her lips. “What are you— Oh! Oh, fuck! Yes!”

Her skin is salty from her sweat, and it’s the best thing you’ve ever tasted. You suck hard, pulling the entire nipple and as much of the areola as you can into the heat of your mouth. You flick your tongue over the sensitive peak, and she just loses it. Her back arches violently, pushing her breast deeper into your mouth, and the rhythm of her riding becomes choppy, erratic, her pussy clenching spasmodically around your dick.

“Please,” she begs. “Oh my god, keep doing that. Suck it. Suck it harder.”

You obey, laving at her nipple like a man starved, occasionally scraping your teeth over the peak, sending fresh waves of shudders through her body. She’s completely gone, her head thrown back, a string of incoherent, whimpering moans falling from her lips as she fucks herself on your cock with a frantic, mindless abandon.

You’re lost in it, lost in the taste of her skin, the feeling of her tight cunt gripping your dick, the sound of her whimpers. You’re so focused that you don’t feel it until it’s too late. As another wave of pleasure from your mouth on her tit crashes through her, she lets out a low, animalistic growl and lunges down, her mouth finding the soft, sensitive spot on your neck where it meets your shoulder.

And then she bites you.

It’s not a playful nip. It’s a hard, possessive, claiming bite. Her teeth sink into your skin, and a sharp, white-hot sting of pain lances through you. The shock of it, the sheer audacity, mixed with the overwhelming pleasure of being buried inside her, is too much. A loud, ragged groan is torn from your throat. She holds on for a second longer, sucking at the spot, before finally releasing you.

She pulls her head back, her eyes feral, her lips slightly smeared with your blood. She looks down at the angry, red teeth marks blooming on your skin.

“Fuck,” you pant, your head spinning. “Yujin, what the hell was that?”

She just smiles, a wicked, triumphant curl of her lips. She leans in and licks the bite mark, her tongue a soothing, hot balm on the stinging skin.

“Mine,” she whispers against your neck. “Just making sure you remember who you belong to tonight.”

You grab her face with a rough palm, thumb dragging across her cheekbone, forcing her wild eyes to meet yours. Her lips are swollen, spit-slick, trembling with a curse that never makes it out before you crush your mouth against hers. The kiss is violent, punishing; your teeth scrape her lip, your tongue ravages, forcing her to submit even as she growls back into your mouth.

When you finally tear away, both of you gasping, your foreheads knock together, your breaths tangling. “Didn’t know you were so fucking possessive,” you rasp, lips brushing hers.

Her eyes glitter dark and sharp, a vicious triumph in her smirk. “I can be,” she purrs, dragging her nails over your chest until you hiss, “when I really, really want something.” The last word is a moan, and then she plants her hands on your shoulders and starts riding you again.

This time it’s not rhythm. It’s demolition. Her hips crash down on your cock with frantic desperation, every thrust an attempt to impale herself deeper, to grind her clit harder against you. Her tits bounce, her head thrown back, her throat bared, every noise she makes rawer, deeper, guttural. Each slap of flesh ricochets through the night air.

“F-fuck! Oh fuck, baby, I’m so close!” she sobs, hair whipping. “I can feel it—I’m right there, oh god!”

You seize her hips, meeting her thrust for thrust, fucking up into her with brutal precision. The bench beneath you creaks, ready to splinter. Your abs burn, your cock feels like it’s about to explode inside her slick, clenching heat. “That’s it,” you grunt, teeth bared, sweat dripping down your temple. “Ride me into the fucking ground. Let it go, Yujin. Cum all over my cock.”

Her moans pitch higher, broken, frantic. “I can’t— I can’t take it anymore! Fuck, it’s too much! I’m gonna— shit, I’m gonna scream so loud!”

You yank her down flush against your chest, your mouth by her ear. “Then scream, baby. Nobody’ll hear you over the music. Scream for me.”

Her eyes flutter back, only the whites showing, and her whole spine bows like a bowstring snapping. Her hands claw into your shoulders so deep it stings, and then it rips out of her - a scream that sounds like it’s being torn from her soul. Not pretty, not polite, but raw, guttural, ragged.

Her pussy clamps down, not a squeeze but a violent seizure, gripping you like a fist, milking you in brutal spasms. Her thighs quiver uncontrollably, her nails gouge your back, her entire body convulses like she’s being electrocuted. She buries her face in the crook of your bitten neck, sobbing your name into your skin, her hot breath and spit soaking you.

Her cunt is chaos around you, fluttering and choking your cock, dragging you toward the edge with every pulse. It feels like lightning storms detonating along your length, wave after wave, her body wringing you dry without mercy.

You can’t help the way your voice tears out, low and rough. “Jesus Christ, Yujin— your pussy’s fucking strangling me. You’re gonna make me cum if you keep milking me like this.”

She’s not even coherent, just babbling against your throat, words broken between sobs and screams. “Ohhh god, it’s so good— it’s too much— I’m shaking— I can’t stop, I can’t stop! Baby, I’m cumming, I’m cumming, I’m cumming, fuck!”

Your hands clamp her ass, nails biting into her flesh as you ride out the storm with her, holding her against you while she thrashes and shudders. Her legs spasm around your waist, her whole body trembling like she might fall apart if you let go. Each clench is a dagger of bliss stabbing up your spine, and it takes everything in you not to lose it inside her.

She finally collapses against you, trembling, gasping raggedly, her chest heaving as she twitches through the aftershocks. Her pussy still flutters around your cock, weak little aftershocks that milk you slowly, almost tender now. Her voice is a wreck, broken into hoarse whispers against your ear. “I screamed so fucking loud… oh my god… I couldn’t stop…”

You kiss her sweat-slick cheek, your own jaw clenched from holding back. “That’s exactly what I wanted, baby.”

Her answering moan is a shudder, a wrecked little sound of surrender, as she slumps against you, still impaled, still clinging like you’re the only thing keeping her tethered to earth.

You lean in and kiss her, a soft, gentle press of your lips to hers. A kiss to calm her down, to bring her back to earth after you so thoroughly launched her into orbit. She melts into it, a soft, boneless weight in your lap, completely and totally spent. The only sounds are her soft, hitching breaths as she comes down from the peak, the distant, muffled pulse of the party, and the frantic thumping of your own heart. You’re still buried deep inside her, your cooling cock nestled in the hot, twitching aftermath of her cunt

After a long, comfortable silence, she lets out a deep, contented sigh, her breath warm against the bite mark on your neck.

“It’s true, you know,” she murmurs.

You smooth her hair back from her forehead. “What’s true?”

“What they say,” she clarifies, shifting just enough to look up at you. “That having sex with someone you actually love… it’s a million times more intense. It’s not even in the same league.”

For a second, you can’t speak. You just stare at her, at this incredible, impossible girl who just came apart on your dick and is now handing you her heart.

“You love me?” you finally manage to ask.

A soft smile touches her lips, crinkling the corners of her eyes. “Of course I do, you idiot.” She settles her head back into the crook of your neck. “We’ve been through everything together. You’ve seen me at my absolute worst, and you’ve been there for my best. You’re my person.” She pauses, and you can feel her swallow against your skin. “Yeah. I love you.”

The simple, honest declaration hits you harder than her orgasm did. A giddy, bubbling warmth spreads through your chest, so potent it almost feels like you could float away. A disbelieving laugh escapes you.

“I didn’t know the tough-as-nails cowgirl was such a sentimentalist,” you tease.

She lifts her head and playfully smacks your chest. “Oh, shut up.”

You just laugh, pulling her in for another deep, lingering kiss.

“I love you too,” you say against her lips, the words you’ve been running from for months finally tasting like freedom. “So much.”

She pulls back, her expression turning serious again, her gaze searching yours. “So… are you going to stop running away now?”

“Yes,” you answer immediately, without a single shred of doubt. “I think I can now.” You look away for a second, the shame of your recent behavior washing over you. “I’m sorry, Yujin. For being such a fucking coward. For hurting you.”

“It’s okay,” she whispers, her hand coming up to cup your cheek. “I get it.” She holds your gaze for a moment, and then a slow, wicked smirk begins to spread across her face. “But… there is one way you can make it up to me. A way I might be able to accept your apology.”

“Oh yeah? And what’s that?”

Her smirk widens, and the look in her eyes is pure filth. “You can cum for me,” she states. “In my mouth. I want to swallow it all.”

“Wow,” you manage. “Okay. The romantic moment ended a little quicker than I expected.”

She just grins, a feral, beautiful thing. She grinds her hips down onto you, and you can feel your cock, which had started to soften, immediately surge back to full, throbbing hardness inside her slick cunt.

“What can I say?” she purrs. “It’s hard to stay in a sentimental mood when I can feel your giant, hard cock pulsing inside my pussy. It’s… distracting.”

And with that, the tender moment is officially over. She pushes herself up, a lithe, powerful motion, and the sound of your dick pulling out of her wet cunt is a loud, obscene slap in the quiet night. She slides off your lap and, without a single shred of hesitation, drops back down to her knees in front of you.

She stays there, looking up at you, her lips parted, her eyes hungry. The message is clear.

You push yourself off the bench and stand before her, your jeans and boxers still pooled around your ankles. You are the victor and the supplicant all at once. She holds all the power, even from her knees. You look down at her, at your best friend, the girl you love, kneeling in the dirt, waiting patiently to take your cum.

Her tongue, pink and wet, darts out and slowly, reverently, licks a stripe from the base of your shaft all the way to the piss-slit. It’s a slow, deliberate taste test, and a shiver racks your entire body.

“Mmm,” she hums, her warm breath ghosting over your sensitive cockhead. “I can taste myself on you. You’re covered in me.” She looks up at you, a wicked glint in her eye. “It’s the best thing I’ve ever tasted.”

And then her mouth is on you again.

This time, it’s different. It’s not an exploration, and it’s not a gentle seduction. This is a mission. She takes you into her mouth with a practiced, greedy efficiency, her lips creating a perfect, wet seal. She’s not just sucking; she’s milking you. Her throat opens, and she takes you deeper than before, her hand wrapped firmly around your base, her other hand cupping your aching, heavy balls. She’s a fucking professional, her head bobbing in a relentless, punishing rhythm, her suction strong enough to pull your soul right out through the tip of your dick.

Every single nerve ending in your body is shrieking like live wires burning under your skin. Heat coils viciously low in your gut, pressure swelling, pulsing, dragging you toward an explosion you can’t hold back. Your thighs tremble, knees nearly buckling, hips jerking forward on their own, desperate for friction, desperate for release. Your cock twitches in her mouth, thick veins bulging, the taste of your own pre slicking her throat while your chest heaves with ragged, guttural groans. You’re right there, right fucking there, seconds away from detonating down her throat.

And she knows. She feels it the instant your muscles seize, the instant your jaw clenches and a broken “fuck!” rips out of you. She pulls back at the last second, your cock slipping free of her lips with a wet sound, a string of saliva dangling between her spit-slick lips and your swollen tip. You’re left dangling, twitching, aching, every drop of self-control about to snap.

Her voice is breathless, ruined with hunger. “Not yet,” she pants, licking the mess from her lips, smearing it across her cheek as her hand wraps tighter around your shaft. Her fist pumps you slow at first, then faster, her thumb grinding across your leaking slit. “God, look at you… your cock’s throbbing in my hand. You’re about to cum, aren’t you? You want to blow your load all over me.”

Your eyes roll back, your head tipping, your throat choking on useless gasps. You can’t form a word. All you can do is moan and nod, pre spilling over her knuckles in heavy drops.

“Ohhh, fuck, baby,” she moans like she’s the one unraveling, staring at your cock with worship burning in her eyes. “You’re dripping for me. You’re so fucking hard. You’ve been holding it in so long… I want it so bad. I want you to flood my throat, drown me in your cum.” Her grip tightens, wrist snapping in brutal strokes that make your knees knock. “Please, please cum for me. I’ve been your good girl. I’ve been waiting, aching, dreaming of you using me like this.” She squeezes at the base, smears pre down your shaft, jerking you harder. “Fill me, baby. Don’t you wanna see me choke on it? Don’t you wanna watch me swallow every drop?”

Your chest heaves, lungs tearing at the air. She looks up, lips glistening, eyes wide, pleading. “Cum for me. Cum for your girlfriend.”

That word slams through your skull like a hammer. Girlfriend. Claim, chain, filthy permission; every defense in your body shatters in an instant.

“I’m gonna— Fuck, Yujin!” you roar as your whole body bows like a bowstring snapping. White-hot lightning explodes from your core, your cock swelling to the breaking point.

Instinct takes you. Your hand clamps over hers, stilling her frantic strokes, and you grip yourself with your own slick fist. You angle your cock at her face, her open mouth, lips stretched into a perfect O, tongue out, begging. Her eyes glitter, her chest rising and falling.

And then it erupts.

A thick, blistering rope of cum launches straight into her throat, forcing her to swallow before she even breathes. You thrust hard, stuffing the head between her lips, pumping jet after jet of molten seed down her gullet. Her eyes roll back, her throat bulges with every obscene gulp as you snarl and grind forward, your cock throbbing uncontrollably. More, and more, and more - hot floods pouring out of you until her mouth overflows, leaking down her chin. You’re groaning, growling, animalistic noises clawing out of your chest as your orgasm drags on, hips bucking like you’re trying to bury yourself in her forever. Your balls clench, squeeze, dump everything, leaving nothing behind.

When at last the spasms die, your body collapses, trembling and hollowed. Your cock slips from her lips with a sticky trail, still drooling cum onto her face. She sits back on her heels, throat painted, mouth filled, chin dripping, her chest heaving with triumphant moans. She looks at the mess coating her, then back at you with a wild, blissful grin.

Without breaking that stare, she closes her lips, cheeks bulging, and swallows - one long, obscene gulp. Her throat works, her lips part again, showing her mouth empty. A string of cum slides from her bottom lip to her chin, dripping onto her tits.

Her grin splits wider, smug and radiant. She wipes her chin with two fingers, sucks them clean. “Mmmh,” she moans, licking her lips, “told you I was hungry.”

Before you can even process a response, she leans forward again. She takes the head of your cock back into her mouth, her tongue expertly swirling around the tip, licking away the last few drops of your release, cleaning you with a reverence that is both humbling and incredibly hot. The feeling of her warm mouth on your now hyper-sensitive dick is so good it makes you moan, a low, exhausted sound.

She pulls back, looking up at you from her knees, her job complete.

“Fuck, Yujin,” you breathe out. “You’re going to kill me.”

She just winks, a drop of your cum still glistening at the corner of her mouth. “Don’t worry, baby,” she purrs. “I know how to bring you back to life.”

You look down at the beautiful, completely insane girl kneeling in front of you, her lips still shiny, her eyes sparkling with a triumphant, filthy confidence.

“You’re absolutely out of your mind,” you say.

She just winks up at you. “And you love it.”

It’s not a question. You just shake your head, still smiling, and reach down to offer her a hand. She takes it, and you pull her to her feet. The spell is broken, and the reality of your situation (half-naked on a patio during a house party) comes flooding back.

Yujin immediately gets to work, pulling her leather skirt back down into place, adjusting the unbuttoned vest over her breasts, and smoothing out her panties from where she’d pushed them aside. “Shit, how long were we out here?”

You’re doing the same, fumbling with your own clothes, pulling up your boxers and jeans with clumsy, post-orgasmic fingers. “I have no idea. An hour? A decade?” You finally manage to get your button and zipper sorted. “Hey, stay here for a sec.” You gesture vaguely towards her mouth. “There’s a little… uh… you’ve got something…”

She touches her chin, her fingers coming away with a faint, sticky residue. She doesn’t even blush. She just laughs.

“Yeah, I’m gonna need a clean-up on aisle three,” she quips, before grabbing her cowboy hat from the bench and settling it back on her head.

“I’ll be right back,” you promise. “I’ll get some, uh…”

“Tissues would be fine,” Yujin says, her smile warm and genuine as she buttons her vest. “Thanks.” She pauses, tilting her head. “Such a gentleman.”

The irony makes you snort with laughter. You give her one last, quick kiss and then turn, plunging back into the belly of the beast. The transition from the quiet, intimate bubble of the patio to the full-blown chaos of the party is jarring. The music is louder, the air is hotter, and the sheer number of people seems to have doubled. You navigate the crowd with a new sense of purpose, a goofy, invincible grin plastered on your face.

You make a beeline for the stairs, heading back to the one place you know you can find supplies: Gaeul’s room. You slip inside, the relative quiet a welcome relief. The room is exactly as you left it. You spot a box of tissues on her nightstand and grab a massive, unapologetic handful, hoping she won’t mind the donation to a worthy cause. Mission accomplished. You turn to leave, your mind already back on the patio with Yujin.

You pull the door open and walk straight into a solid object that says, “Oof.”

It’s Gaeul. Of course it is.

“Well, well, well,” she says, taking a step back and crossing her arms. A smug, all-knowing smile is plastered on her face. Her celestial witch costume is a little disheveled now, but her eyes are sharp. “Look who decided to stick around. I was about to file a missing persons report.”

You feel a flush of heat creep up your neck, but you try to play it cool. “Hey. Yeah, sorry. Got held up.”

“‘Held up,’ huh?” Her smile widens. “So I’m guessing my little computer intervention was a success?”

“You could say that,” you admit, a genuine smile breaking through your feigned composure. “We, uh… we talked. Sorted some stuff out.” You can’t help the happiness that bleeds into your statement.

Gaeul’s expression, she lets out a dramatic sigh, placing a hand over her heart. “Oh, thank god. Finally.” She uncrosses her arms. “I was getting so tired of the two of you circling each other like depressed, horny sharks. So, where is she? She’s been MIA for a while now, too.”

“She’s out back. On the patio,” you say, gesturing vaguely with your head.

Gaeul nods, satisfied. Her plan worked. She’s a genius. A master of puppets. Her eyes drift over you, and her smile begins to falter.

“Dude, you’re like… really sweaty,” she observes, her brow furrowing slightly. “Did you run a marathon out there?”

“Uh…” You rub the back of your neck. “It was an intense conversation?”

Her eyes narrow dangerously. “Intense conversation...” Her gaze flicks up and down, lingering on the hickey blazing red on your throat. “That is not a conversation. That is a fucking vampire attack.”

“Okay, relax—”

“No, don’t tell me to relax,” she snaps, stepping closer. “You’re sweaty, your hoodie looks like you wrestled a bear, and—” She suddenly freezes. Her eyes drop to your hand. To the massive wad of tissues you’re clutching. “…What the fuck are those for?”

You glance down at them like you’ve never seen paper products before. “…uh.”

Her head tilts. “Don’t you dare.”

“…Cleaning?”

Her face contorts, horror dawning. “Oh my god. Oh my fucking god.” Her voice cracks into a shriek. “You didn’t! Tell me you didn’t! Rule number one — rule NUMBER ONE — no sex at my parents’ house!”

“Technically,” you say, shrugging like an asshole, “it was the patio. And remember: it's all your fault for bringing me here. You set the ambush, now deal with the consequences."

Her jaw drops. Her hands fling into her hair. “ARE YOU OUT OF YOUR MIND?! The ambush was for you to talk! TALK. Like words. With your mouths. Not—” she waves her hands frantically—“whatever Pornhub-tier bullshit you pulled on my patio! This is not a P. Diddy party!”

You laugh. “We were discreet.”

She explodes. “DISCREET?! Look at your neck! That’s not discreet, that’s a fucking pepperoni pizza special! What are you, a middle schooler?!”

You smirk. “What can I say? Yujin’s talented.”

She lets out a strangled growl. “Don’t. Don’t even say her name right now. I cannot handle it. Did you at least—” she stops herself, groaning—“god, I don’t even want to ask this, but did you at least not… contaminate the lawn? My dad worships that grass. He trims it with scissors.”

You wave a hand, cool as hell. “Relax. Didn’t cum on the grass.”

Relief floods her face. Shoulders slump. “Thank god.”

“I came in Yujin’s mouth.”

“WHYYYY would you SAY that?! That is not information I need! That is a high-definition IMAX nightmare burned into my brain until the day I die! I can feel my childhood memories being overwritten with this bullshit!”

"Oh, you deserved it. I hope you'll stop being nosy and setting up ambushes now. Consider this a lesson."

She paces, muttering at full volume. “My patio chairs… the handmade wooden bench… they’re innocent… they didn’t deserve this… I hate you. I hate you.”

“C’mon, don’t be dramatic.”

She whirls on you, stabbing a finger into your chest. “Dramatic? Dramatic?! You two turned my patio into a fucking porno set! If this was MTV Cribs, you’d be pointing at the backyard going, ‘yeah, this is where the magic happens.’ I should be charging rent!”

You grin, backing away slowly, tissues still clutched like contraband. “Okay, okay, I’m gonna head back—”

“Yes, go!” she snaps, pointing down the hall like she’s banishing you. “Go to her. Make out. Hold hands. Write sonnets. Just STOP defiling my house like it’s a set for Love Island.”

You salute her. “Not making promises.”

She screams after you, voice cracking through the hall: “IF YOU FUCK ON MY POOL TABLE I’M CUTTING YOU OUT OF MY LIFE!”

You walk back out onto the patio. Yujin is leaning against the railing, her back to you, looking out at the dark lawn. She looks serene, peaceful, a stark contrast to the beautiful, screaming mess she was just a few minutes ago.

She must hear your footsteps, because she turns, a soft, tired smile on her face.

“Took you long enough,” she teases gently. “I was starting to think you’d run away again.”

“Never again,” you promise. You close the distance between you and hold out the tissues. “Here. For the, uh… clean-up.”

She takes them with a grateful nod. You take one yourself and gently cup her chin, tilting her face up. With a tenderness that feels foreign and yet perfectly natural, you carefully wipe away the last traces of your orgasm from the corner of her lips and her chin

When you’re done, she takes the used tissue and balls it up with her own. “So,” she begins. “What time is it, anyway?”

You pull out your phone, the bright screen temporarily blinding you. “Just hit midnight.”

“Midnight Cowgirl,” she muses with a soft chuckle. “Starring An Yujin.” She lets out a long sigh. “Well, I guess a new day, a new… whatever this is.”

“Yeah,” you agree, shoving your phone back in your pocket. “I, uh… I probably really have to go. I have that early shift tomorrow.”

“Okay,” she says, nodding. There’s no disappointment in her expression, just an easy acceptance. “But before you go.” She takes a step closer. “You need to do something.”

“I do?”

“Mhm,” she confirms. “You need to officially ask me out. Because as of right now, you’re my boyfriend, and I’m your girlfriend. And I think that deserves a proper invitation, don’t you?”

You stare at her, completely dumbfounded for a second. Your girlfriend. She just says it so casually, so matter-of-factly, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

“Okay,” you say. “Okay, yeah. An official invitation.”

You take a dramatic step back, clear your throat, and, in a moment of sheer, dorky impulse, you start to drop down onto one knee.

“Whoa, whoa, what are you doing?” she yelps, lunging forward and grabbing your arm to stop you. “Get up, you idiot! You’re not proposing!”

You let her pull you back to your feet, laughing. “Sorry. My brain isn’t exactly working at full capacity right now. I’m new to this.”

“Clearly,” she says, but she’s smiling, her dimples on full display. “Just… ask me like a normal person.”

You take a deep breath, trying to compose yourself. You take both of her hands in yours. “Okay. Right. Normal.” You look into her eyes, and all the jokes and teasing just melt away. “An Yujin. Would you, uh… would you want to be my girlfriend? If you’re, you know, interested in that. Or something.”

“Or something? Real smooth.” She squeezes your hands. “Of course I will, you moron.”

And then she’s kissing you again. When she pulls away, you’re reluctant to let her go. “Do you… do you want a ride home?”

“No, it’s okay,” she says, shaking her head. “I’m gonna stay for a little while longer. Find Gaeul and apologize for, well, everything.” She smirks. “I’ll text you tomorrow, okay?”

“Okay,” you agree.

“And try to get some rest,” she adds, her expression turning sincere.

You let out a short, sharp laugh. “Rest? Yujin, I don’t think I’m going to be able to sleep for a week after tonight.”

Her only response is an excited, happy little giggle.

“Are you really okay, though?” she asks. “With all this?”

You nod, but a flicker of the old fear, the old insecurity, resurfaces. “Yeah. I am.” You look down at your hands, still holding hers. “I’m just… I’m going to try really, really hard not to mess this up. I don’t want to go wrong with you.”

She reaches up with her free hand and gently touches your cheek, making you look at her. “Hey. We’re going to be great,” she says. “And listen to me. If you ever feel scared or weird or anything, you just have to talk to me. The best friend part of us doesn’t just disappear because you’re my boyfriend now. That’s our foundation. Okay?”

“Okay,” you say. You lean in and kiss her one more time, pouring all the gratitude and relief and overwhelming love you feel into it. “I love you.” She smiles against your lips. You finally let go of her hands. “Okay. I’m really going this time.” You say your goodbyes and turn, taking a step toward the hallway, toward the real world.

You get about five feet before you feel it. That familiar, coarse weight snaking around your chest, cinching tight and pulling you to an abrupt halt. The rope.

You let out a long, theatrical sigh as she reels you back in. You turn to find her beaming, the coiled end of the lasso in her hand. She pulls you right up against her and then wraps her arms around you from behind, her chin resting on your shoulder. She leans around and steals one last, deep kiss.

You just murmur against her mouth. “You really liked that rope trick, huh?”

“It’s really fun,” she says, full of mischief. She finally unwinds the rope and lets you go.

“I hope you’re planning on retiring that thing after tonight,” you say.

She just shrugs, a wicked glint in her eyes as she starts coiling the rope with that practiced efficiency. “I don’t know. I’m already having some pretty creative ideas.” She pauses, her gaze flicking down your body and then back up to your eyes. “They mostly involve this rope, a bed, and you.”

“Okay… Well, In that case, I wouldn’t mind.”

You start backing away for real this time, not wanting to turn your back on her. “Goodnight, cowgirl.”

She leans against the doorframe, the coiled rope hanging from her hip, every inch the midnight hero of this story. “There goes my outlaw,” she calls out. “Running away with my heart.”

You just smile, your own heart so full you think it might burst.

“Don’t worry,” you call back, just before you disappear into the chaos of the party. “I’ll take good care of it.”

[authorhjk1]

Disciplinary Actions

(Dong Gran X Yujin X Male Reader) Wordcount: 15744 words

You push open the glass doors, stepping into the dimly lit foyer. Usually you aren’t this early at work. It’s barely 6 am. You slept horrible and woke up far earlier than usual. After going back and forth if you should try to get some more sleep, you decided on heading out while it was still dark outside.

“Good morning.”

“Morning.”

The company’s security guard greets you as you walk past the desk where the receptionist sits during normal hours. You reach the device on the wall near the elevators. A quick flash of your card makes it beep and turn green. You take the elevator up to the fourth floor. The doors open with a ding, but you are hesitant to step out. 

Everything is silent. No chatter, no phone calls, nothing. And it’s still dark as well.

After hitting the light switch, you walk towards your office. You share it with 3 other people, but right now no one is there. It feels different to stand alone in front of the open door. You’re never this early. Never. Glancing at your right, you realize that even your boss isn’t here yet. Manager Dong is all about work, but you even beat her to it today.

You let out a sigh as you sit in your chair and start up your computer. Instead of working you check your phone. There’s no one here anyway.

Just when you start to get comfortable and enjoy the silence, you hear the sound of heels clicking. Someone is walking down the hallway. The pace is quick, but not hasty. You recognize it immediately. Your phone is back in your pocket within a second and you log into the computer to make it look like you’re actually being productive.

A couple of seconds later the sound is gone. You look up and there she is, standing in the doorframe. Manager Dong Gran.

As usual, you do your best to focus on her face. Her sharp jaw and her dark eyes. But it’s hard. The buttons of her white shirt look like they’re losing a battle against her chest. Her stockings, in combination with her heels, make her legs look flawless and make it seem like they go on for miles. As always, her cold face seems to judge you, but this time you could swear that a hint of a smile is tugging at the corners of her mouth. As if she’s amused by you coming in early. You’ve instinctively sat up straighter.

Gran holds your gaze with silent confidence. Then with a quiet breath through her nose she glances at your computer, then back at you.

“Morning.”

Her low voice is cold and neutral. As if you're a stranger she’s never seen before.

“Morning, Manager Dong.” She doesn’t even ask why you’re early. Just turns around and walks toward her office like it’s any other day. But it almost feels like the click of her heels is louder now. You watch her back as she goes, shoulders straight. You can’t help but glance at her black skirt for a second, but her office door already opens with a soft creak, then shuts behind her quietly.

The silence inside your office feels heavier now. The urge to get your work done grows stronger now that your boss is here. You probably would’ve killed some more time on your phone during working hours, but that doesn’t seem like a good idea anymore. You glance at the screen in front of you and then open up the email app. There’s nothing to read though. No emails. No one’s expecting anything from you yet. No new deadlines. No morning calls.

You check the time.

6:14.

You think about what Gran must be doing in there. If she’s booting up her own computer. If she’s already halfway through a report. Or maybe she’s just doing nothing, wondering why you’re early. Highly unlikely. 

You shift in your seat.

Maybe she is surprised to see you here this early. You do think you saw a hint of a smile. Maybe she even appreciates you being here before her?

Your eyes flick to the frosted glass wall of her office. Her silhouette is faintly visible, seated at her desk. One leg crossed over the other. Seemingly motionless. But then you swear her head turns. Just slightly. Barely noticeable.

Is she looking back at you?

You quickly turn back to your own screen. Now you really try to work. But it’s hard to focus when her silhouette is right there. Just in the corner of your eye. Behind the frosted glass.

The clock on your screen ticks painfully slow. One second. Then another. And another. You feel like she’s watching you, but you can’t really be sure.You really try to look busy as you mindlessly scroll through your company’s news page.

A few minutes later, you hear her office door open again. You don’t look right away. You try not to be obvious. But her heels announce her before your eyes can help themselves.

She walks past your office without a glance. Straight down the hallway toward the small break room at the end. Her stride doesn’t just show off her long legs, but also her tight fitting skirt. You don’t even pretend you’re working now as your eyes rest on her body once more. Her legs look incredible in those stockings. Black, sheer and smooth like they are one with her skin. Every step she takes in those heels makes them flex like she’s showing them off on purpose.

Then she disappears around the corner.

You exhale and glance down at your lap, suddenly aware of the way you’re sitting. You shift, trying to focus. The sound of the coffee maker now breaks through the silence. Which only makes your mind stay on Gran’s perfect body. You continue to daydream about how her body would feel pressed against yours. How she’d look at you. With those same dark eyes. But in your imagination, they aren’t cold. They’re on fire. You smile as you lean back in your chair. You’d feel like the luckiest man alive if a woman like your boss would lust after you like you lust after her.

Click. Click. Click.

Your heart skips a beat.

She’s coming back. You keep your eyes on the monitor at first, but they betray you before she even passes your door. She’s walking the same line again, coffee in one hand, the other swinging gently by her side. But Gran still doesn’t look at you. Still doesn’t even spare you a glance. As if you aren’t there.

Your gaze lingers on the shape of her calves once more. The subtle tension in her thighs with every step, the way her skirt moves just enough to show the faint line where the stocking meets bare skin. The soft click of her heels seems to echo in your ear even after she closed her office’s door behind her again.

It’s silent yet again. Now you really regret coming in this early. You’re lusting even more after Gran than you usually do. On normal days your coworkers act as some sort of buffer between you and your boss. The two of you are never really alone. Another person is always in earshot. But not now. Now it’s you and her and the entire empty floor you’re on.

You glance at your screen again.

6:23.

You haven’t even been 30 minutes at work. And now you’re already hard.

You try to shake it off and click open a half finished spreadsheet from the day before and throw yourself into it with shaky determination. At least if you finish this task, you’ll have an excuse. A reason to talk to her. Something that will torture you, but also maybe take a little bit off your chest. At least the two of you won’t be just silently working, waiting for other people to finally arrive.

Your newly found ambition has you finish the work quickly. Quicker than usual. And as you think overall better as well.

But then you hesitate. You look at the hallway, then back at your screen. Should you email her the file? No. That would be normal. That way you won’t get a chance to see her again without anyone around. Before you can second-guess yourself, you stand up. You walk toward her office. Each step of yours somehow feels louder than it actually is. Then you reach her door. You don’t knock. You tell yourself it’s fine. It’s early. She’ll be at her desk. You’ll hand off your report, maybe ask a quick question. You can play it casual. You push the door open.

And stop.

Gran is not at her desk. Not really. She’s standing next to it. One leg slightly lifted, her heel propped up on the edge of her chair as she readjusts her stocking. Her skirt is hiked up halfway up her thigh, fingers smoothing the black nylon into place with the same cold precision she operates with during important meetings. Her head is tilted slightly, watching her own movements in the reflection of the glass wall.

Then her eyes meet yours in that reflection.

She freezes. But only for a second.

Then she straightens. Almost elegantly. She smooths her skirt and lowers her leg.

Dong Gran just stares at you for a long moment. Then, with a voice as cold as the air between you two, she says.

“Have you ever heard of knocking?”

Your throat tightens.

“Sorry.”

You begin to stumble over your words.

“I just…I finished the report from yesterday. Thought I’d hand it over in person.”

Gran doesn’t respond, just motions towards her desk.

You step forward and place the file on the wooden surface. She picks it up and scans the first page while remaining standing. You can’t help but steal another glance at her cleavage. Her shirt is still struggling to hold together. Otherwise her posture is flawless. Standing straight, one hand on her hip. Her expression blank.

A few seconds pass in silence as she flips through the document.

“This section here.”

She taps the corner of the fifth page.

“Not good enough. Fix the formatting. And check your numbers. Something feels off.”

You nod silently, swallowing your pride.

You turn to leave, eager to escape from her office. Your hand is already on the door when Gran's voice stops you again.

“One more thing.”

You turn, but she doesn’t even look up from the file this time.

“There’s an overdue report from Logistics sitting in the shared folder. Finish it. I want it on my desk by ten.”

Your jaw tightens. You’d planned to get ahead on other work today. You’re already in early. And this isn’t even your responsibility.

But you nod again.

“Understood.”

You step out and close the door behind you.

Back at your desk, you sit down in your chair. Fingers tighten around the mouse as you pull the Logistics report. The formatting is a mess. Numbers are missing. It’s exactly the kind of tedious grunt work she’d never normally assign to you.

You stare at the screen, irritated but powerless to say anything. You’re still stewing in silence when the notification pops up on the bottom corner of your screen.

New Email - From: Manager Dong Gran

Subject: Procedure

In the future, please schedule a meeting before entering my office. Unexpected interruptions are not appreciated.

M. Dong

You stare at the message for a long moment.

There’s nothing harsh in the wording. No capital letters, no exclamation marks. But the precision of it cuts deeper than yelling ever could.

But still you wonder if she’s doing it on purpose. She could’ve ignored what happened. She could’ve let it go. But no. This reminder is not just some sort of disciplinary action. You feel like she’s just bluntly putting you in your place. And maybe she’s even enjoying it.

You lean back in your chair and stare at the glass wall again. Her silhouette is still there. She doesn’t seem to move or do anything. You can’t tell if she’s maybe actually looking at you or not.

You shake your head and try to focus on work again. You manage a few lines of cleanup in the Logistics report, but your eyes keep drifting. You wonder what she thinks of you. Or if she thinks of you at all.

Then, for a second time this morning, her door opens.

Gran steps out holding a file and walks toward the printer. She passes your office again, and again she doesn’t look at you. But this time you catch how her mouth is set in a tighter line. Her posture seems a little sharper. More forced than usual. You get the sense that she’s thinking. Maybe distracted by something. But the kind of distracted that comes from effort. As if she’s holding back from something.

She returns with the file and pauses at her door. Her hand rests on the handle. But she doesn’t go in. Instead, she turns her head. Just slightly. Her eyes meet yours through the glass. It only lasts a second. But it’s the first time she’s really looked at you today. Then she turns and disappears into her office.

You sit frozen in place. Was that a crack in her usual cold facade?

Inside her office, Gran closes the door behind her with a soft click. She sets the file down and walks to the window, but she doesn’t look outside.

She saw it again this morning. The way you looked at her. The way your posture shifted the moment she stepped into the room. The way how hard you tried to act normal. The way your voice sounded when you spoke.

She noticed everything this morning. And she noticed you for quite a while now.

At first, it annoyed her. The way your eyes always hesitated just a second too long when they met her legs. The way your voice tightened when she gave you direct instructions. She thought you were another soft man who couldn’t handle her authority. Who couldn’t handle her.

But then you stayed late. You started showing up on time. Then early. You took on work that wasn’t yours. But the more important thing, you didn’t do it for her. To impress her or earn praise. You just work hard. Even if she caught you slacking once or twice, Gran has noticed your ability to work hard.

But that irritated her too. Because it made her watch you. It made her wonder what you wanted. What you’d do to get it. How far you’d let her push you before you snapped. Gran didn’t like that curiosity. But she also didn’t stop feeding it.

And this morning?

She didn’t expect to see you. Not so early. You didn’t say a word except for greeting her though. You didn’t stare at her.You even apologized later. You stayed in line, but Gran continues to wonder what would happen if you wouldn’t

She picks up her coffee and takes a slow sip.

The logistics report glares at you from the screen. This isn’t the type of work you usually do. It literally is beneath your paygrade. But you still accepted earlier. It’s not like you really had a choice anyway. You’ve learned, especially with Manager Dong, that silently proving yourself through your work gets you further than complaining or showing off. Plus, you’re being paid for your time, not the amount or importance of the assignments you do. Which means, in your opinion, she’s scamming the company by making you do this kind of work. It’s something her secretary could do. But as you think about her, you roll your eyes.

An Yujin? Being productive?

You almost have to laugh. As Manager Dong’s secretary you’d expect she’d know how to carry herself and how to act around her boss. But she’s just the personification of a brat. You’re still wondering why she even gets to keep the job. She’s just sitting at her desk all day, pretty much only doing something after Manager Dong told her to do it explicitly several times.

Your thoughts about your boss’s assistant get interrupted by another email.

New Email - From: Manager Dong Gran

Subject: Follow up

Please come to my office.

You close your eyes in disbelief. Is she now on a power trip or something? She already put you in her place for walking in on her earlier. And now she wants to talk to you about it in person? Why?

Suppressing a groan, you stand up.

This time, you knock. A second later you hear her voice.

“Come in.”

You push the door open and step inside.

She’s seated now, legs crossed as she reviews something on her monitor. Her blazer is draped over the backrest of her chair and you can’t help but wonder if it would even fit her properly.

She doesn’t look up as she speaks.

“You’ve made progress with the Logistics report. Faster than I expected.”

You nod, a little relieved. Maybe this isn’t about you walking in on her.

“Yes. I thought I’d try to-”

“That’s not praise.”

She cuts in flatly, still not looking at you.

“Just an observation.”

You clear your throat, barely able to suppress another groan of frustration. You feel one of your hands forming a fist. Deep breaths.

“Understood.”

Finally, she tears her eyes off her screen and looks up at you. Her dark eyes settle on yours now for a long, quiet moment.

“You’ve been showing initiative lately. Coming in early. Finishing tasks I didn’t assign. Is there a reason for that?”

You swallow hard. Is Manager Dong saying she didn’t just tell you to do that stupid report? And what kind of question is that? You’re working. Hard. If anything, shouldn’t you get something in return? And not just such a question?

“I…I just wanted to be productive.”

That’s all you manage to say for now.

“Mm.”

She leans back in her chair, resting one arm on the armrest, fingers tapping lightly against it.

“I don’t encourage overcompensation. Especially when it’s not asked for.”

Your eyes narrow, but there’s a sting in her words that her gaze doesn’t match. Her voice is cool, but there’s something in her eyes. Curiosity? Is she having fun pushing you around? Is she trying to find out how far she can take it?

“I wasn’t trying to overcompensate. I just…like to stay ahead.”

You think you see through her facade now, which actually makes it easier for you to compose yourself.

Gran tilts her head.

“Do you.”

Another pause. Her gaze drops for just a second.

“Ive worked in this industry long enough to know when someone is trying to impress me. Some try too hard. Others don’t try at all. Like a certain secretary.”

She doesn’t know what you thought about right before she sent that email, right? How could she? She isn’t a mind reader or anything. And yet her comment doesn’t feel like it’s only directed at Yujin.

“But you…”

She lets the word hang in the air. You don’t know what to say.

“Me?”

“You’re not sure what you’re doing. But you keep doing it anyway.”

You’re not sure what she’s talking about. You’re just doing your work.

Gran studies you for another moment, then she reaches for her mouse again.

“That will be all.”

You simply nod.

You turn around, your hand on the door handle. But then you don’t move.

“Can I ask you something?” There’s silence behind you for another moment.

“Turn around.”

You do. She’s still in her chair, fingers steepled now beneath her chin, watching you with that unreadable calm. You expect her to be annoyed, but her voice is quiet.

“Well?”

“Why did you say I’m not sure what I’m doing?”

Gran looks at you. The clock ticks somewhere in the room. You can feel your own pulse in your throat. Then she leans back slightly, her tone almost amused.

“Because you always try so hard not to look at me. But you can’t stop staring, can you?”

Your breath catches. A slight smirk plays around the corners of her mouth as she watches your reaction.

“I’m not-”

You begin, but stop. Lying feels pointless.

Her eyes soften. Just a little bit.

“You’re not the first employee who’s looked at me like that.”

“I didn’t mean to-” “I know. That’s the problem.”

Gran uncrosses her legs and sits forward, resting her elbows lightly on her desk. Her voice lowers, now including a sultry undertone.

“You work hard. You’re obedient. You hold your tongue even when I give you a task beneath you. But you’re distracted.”

“I’m not.” You try to defend yourself.

“You’re hard.”

She says bluntly.

Silence slams into the room like a door. Your face burns instantly, blood rushing to your ears. Your mouth opens, but no words come out.

Gran tilts her head.

“Are you going to deny it?”

You stare at her, frozen. She leans forward just a little more.

“I saw the way you looked at my legs. My heels. You think you’re subtle, but you’re not.”

She pauses.

“I didn’t stop you, did I?”

You swallow hard.

“...No.”

Gran folds her arms across her chest. The motion draws your eye where it shouldn’t go. But you force it back to her face. Her expression is still cold and composed.

“This office is not a place for games. But I’ll tell you something very plainly, because I don’t like ambiguity.”

You nod slowly and her gaze darkens just slightly.

“I like control. Discipline. Focus. If you’re going to keep coming in early, if you’re going to keep watching me like that, you should know what that means.”

Your lips part, but you still don’t know what to say. She taps her nail once against the desk.

“Do you want to keep watching, or do you want me to tell you what to do?”

You don’t answer right away. Your mind is blank. The question sits in the air between you, heavier than anything she’s ever said before.

Eventually you nod though. But Gran seems to be waiting for a proper response.

“...Tell me.”

She stands up. Her heels are quiet against the carpet as she walks around the desk. She stops right in front of you. Close enough so you can smell her perfume. Like her personality, it has a cold, but spicy scent to it. She’s only just shorter than you, even in heels. But you’re the one who feels smaller right now.

“Sit.”

You quietly obey. The chair’s leather is warm from where she sat moments ago. You sit upright, unsure what to do with your hands. Gran steps back, just far enough to lean against the desk again.

“Keep your eyes on mine.”

You nod.

“Yes, ma’am.”

Something flickers in her eyes at that.

She slowly uncrosses her arms. Then, she lifts one leg and places her heel on the chair between your thighs. Not touching you, but close enough that you can almost feel it. Her skirt rides up. The stocking meets her skin just inches away.

“Is this what you wanted to see?”

You inhale sharply, her foot still perfectly balanced on the chair’s edge. Her thigh is tense, flexed just enough to make the nylon ripple. But her eyes never leave yours. Not just to test you, but also to tease you. To make sure you’re only focusing on her eyes and to see how much of an effort it takes you to keep your composure.

“Yes.”

Your voice is breathless. Like a whisper.

“I mean…I didn’t come in for this, I just…”

Her voice slices through your words.

“You didn’t come in for this. But you’ve been thinking about it. For how long?”

She raises an eyebrow.

“For weeks?”

You can’t deny it. Not when she’s looking at you like this. Not when she can clearly see how hard you are right now.

“Yes.”

Gran leans closer. And as soon as her eyes leave yours, your own instinctively focus on her cleavage. It’s now right in front of you. Just an inch away. You feel her breath against your ear.

“If you want more than this, you’ll follow instructions exactly. Every time. Do you understand me?”

Your throat is dry. You’ve never been so close. Her perfume seems to heighten your senses. If you could just reach out…Instead you manage a whisper.

“Yes, ma’am.”

Gran slowly lowers her leg and steps back. A disappointed sigh almost escapes your lips.

“Then go back to your desk.”

You blink.

“What?”

“I gave you a deadline, didn’t I?”

Her voice is cold again, her arms fold neatly over her chest. She looks at you with the same coldness in her eyes as before. But it seems like her cheeks are just a little more flushed now. And your pants are unbearably tight. You want to complain, but you’re afraid that you’ll lose your chance of something more than just a deep view of her cleavage.

“Finish the Logistics report.”

She talks to you like you’re a child. You hesitate, but she tilts her head.

“Or, I can revoke the offer. Permanently.”

You stand up. Quicker than both of you expected. You try to keep your breathing under control. As you walk towards the door, you feel her eyes on your back. Just before you step out, her voice stops you once more.

“And close the door behind you.”

You do so and then return to your desk.

The next hour is torture. You try to work. But that’s something you’ve been telling yourself for the past hour or so already. You try to forget the way her thigh looked just inches from your face, how her tits looked in that shirt that seems way too small, how her voice sounded in your ear, how her body left the faint warmth behind on her chair. And when you realize you can’t forget, you try your best to at least suppress your memory. Until you’re done with the report.

You really try to do your best. Gran told you to do it and you don’t have a choice. Your fingers tremble on the keyboard, but you force yourself to stay sharp. Not just because it’s your job. Because now, it’s for Gran. The chance to see her again like this. So close. So intimate.

Eventually, you submit the file with a short email, trying to sound professional even though your heart is still racing.

Five minutes pass.

Then ten.

You hear someone enter their office on the other side of the hallway. Seems like people are starting to arrive. You keep refreshing your inbox like a fool.

Then you finally see a new message.

New Email - From: Manager Dong Gran

Subject: Meeting - Conference Room 2B

Join me. Close the door behind you. Don’t be late.

You check the time.

7:45

You’re are there at 7:47.

By now more of your coworkers have arrived and you greet everyone you pass, until you reach the conference room 2B. It’s at the end of the hallway and smaller than most of the other rooms. Just a long table, six chairs and a whiteboard.

When you arrive, the door is already slightly open. You knock. Gran’s voice almost seems to echo inside the room.

“Come in.”

You step inside. Gran is standing at the head of the table, a printed version of your report in hand. She doesn’t look at you as you enter.

“Sit.”

You follow her order and she sets the report down on the table between you. She flips through the pages, then looks up.

“The formatting is better. And the numbers are clean.”

You nod.

“Thank you.”

“That’s not praise.”

She echoes her words from earlier. It makes it hard for you not to frown. Her eyes linger on you longer than they usually would. Then she walks to the door and locks it.

“Stand up.”

While your back is still turned toward her, Gran bites her lip. Her heart pounds in her chest at the thought of what she’s about to do to you. As much as she loves pushing you around with work assignments, this is even more fun.

“Come here.”

You move slowly, unsure of what to expect. Your blood seems to rush faster through your entire body as you stop in front of her, close enough to smell her perfume again. Her eyes scan your face for a moment. Then she speaks once more.

“You want to be used, don’t you?”

You swallow hard.

“I…I don’t know.”

“That’s a lie.”

Gran steps closer. Her fingers lift, not to touch your face, but to grasp your tie.

“You want me to do with you whatever I want. You want me to use you. That’s the truth, isn’t it?”

You want to say no. But then you realize, to some degree at least, that’s true. Of course you wouldn’t mind if Gran uses your cock to pleasure herself however she wants. As long as you enjoy it as well of course. But you’re not sure if that last part is on her mind as well.

You try to speak, but she silences you with a single word.

“Don’t.”

She studies for a second longer.

“Kneel.”

Your breath catches, despite her voice being a little softer now. For a moment, you hesitate. Her brow lifts. You drop to your knees. The carpet is scratchy beneath you. You feel kinda humiliated, but you decide that it’s worth it if you can just hold out long enough. Her heels stand inches away from your knees, perfectly clean and elegant.

“You want me to tell you what to do. So I will.”

She takes a step forward. Her skirt brushes against your arm.

“Look at me.”

You raise your eyes. Her dark stare pierces straight through you. For a moment you think she’s playing the same game as last time. When you were in her office. But you don’t want to do that. If she does so again, you decide you won’t entertain her shenanigans any further.

“You’ve been staring at my legs. Thinking about how I’d taste. How I’d sound. And now you’re going to find out.”

Her hand stayed on your tie, but is now moving up to your chin. Her thumb brushes over your lower lip.

“You don’t get to touch me. You don’t get to ask questions. You don’t even get to make a sound unless I want to hear it.”

You nod, a little intimidated by her overpowering demeanor.

She tightens her grip on your jaw.

“Say it.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Gran lifts one leg, placing her heel on the edge of the chair behind you. Her skirt slides up, revealing the top of her stockings and the small black thong between her thighs.

“Put your mouth to work.”

You hesitate yet again. You almost expected her to send you back to your desk. Now you’re staring at her underwear and she’s telling you to use your mouth?

“Don’t stop until I tell you to.”

Gran grips the back of your head, nails dragging through your hair as she pulls you in tighter. Her scent is warm and intoxicating. Your nose brushes against her thong. It’s completely soaked. You quickly use a hand to push the black fabric to the side.The sight of her clean shaven pussy makes your mouth water and a second later your lips meet hers.

Your tongue moves slowly at first. You taste her, even tease her a little. Her fingers tighten. Her hips roll. She presses you in harder. It seems like Gran is fine with playing games with you, but she herself isn’t patient at all.

“Faster.”

She hisses and you what she wants. You don’t mind, really. Gran’s pussy tastes amazing. You feast on it, letting your tongue enter her, then you pull out and swipe over her clit, before you dive back in. Repeating the same cycle again and again has her soon moaning in pleasure. You’d love to put your hands on her ass, to feel her body while you eat her. But she said you aren’t allowed to touch her. Instead you focus on doing the best you can with your tongue. Her slick begins to drip onto your face. The sound of her breath shifts, It’s less controlled now. It grows rougher. Her thighs tense around your face, her stoking brushing your cheek as she grinds against your mouth.

“Look at me.”

You try your best to do so. Her skirt is a little in the way, but she smooths it with her free hand. Your eyes are slightly hazy and your lips are soaked. You try to push your tongue even deeper.

Gran watches you like she’s inspecting your work. Almost like she isn’t just your boss, but she owns you. Her breath catches. She curses, quietly but loud enough for you to hear and then her whole body stiffens. You can feel how she’s already on her way towards a climax.

But then her voice cuts through the air.

“Stop.”

You pull back instantly, your breath hot and your lips wet with her slick.

Gran stands there, towering over you, her chest rising and falling. When she speaks, her voice is back to normal again.

“Don’t wipe your face. And don’t move.”

You stay frozen, waiting for her next move. She pulls her skirt back down, smooths her shirt, adjusts one button and straightens her collar. As if nothing happened. As if you aren’t still kneeling in front of her, your face wet with her juices.

Then she suddenly grabs your tie. She pulls you closer to her face as she bends down. Once again you have to focus on looking at her eyes and not at her tits, which are only an inch away.

“Get back to your desk.”

You have to hold back a groan. Is she serious? You hate her stupid games. You promised yourself you wouldn’t let her play with you again. But now that you’ve had a taste of her pussy you can’t help yourself. Maybe, if you’re lucky, next time you’ll get even more out of this?

Gran closes the door behind her and walks back to her desk. Her thighs are still slightly shaking as she sits down. She stares at the monitor in front of her, but she isn’t actually looking at it. In her mind she replays the scene from just a couple of minutes ago. The way you looked up at her while you ate her out. How your eyes sparkled with hunger for more. How close you were to just grabbing her and bending her over the table and taking her. The thought alone has Gran slip her hand between her thighs. She was surprised when you almost pushed her towards an orgasm. She didn’t expect it to go that quickly. But maybe she was more turned on than she admitted to herself. 

You barely remember how you got back to your desk. You greeted your coworkers with whom you share your office with. But your legs feel numb and your lips still tingle from the taste of her. Your hard-on hasn’t faded in the slightest. Actually, it’s been nearly unbearable for the last hour. Every time someone passes by, you flinch, terrified someone will notice. You’re so close to just heading to the bathroom and finish it yourself. But you’re scared of what might happen if Gran found out. Or you could regret it if you did so and a minute later she’d call for you again. How embarrassing would it be to stand in front of her while she looks at you, disappointment written all over her face as you admit that you just jerked off in the restroom.

It’s already 10:30. Everyone is working already. Except Yujin of course. She’s still nowhere to be seen. You wonder if Gran is even going to call for you again now that so many people are around. Every time you get a call, you think it’s her, but it’s not. And while you’re on a call, your anxiety rises. What if she calls you while you’re busy?

Your worries are finally silenced when you get another message.

New Email - From: Manager Dong Gran

Subject: Special task

Conference room 2B. 10 minutes.

Your pulse explodes. You don’t even respond. You just get up and go. The walk down the hall is quick. You don’t knock this time, you just open the door, step inside and shut it behind you. Gran is already there. This time she isn’t standing. She’s seated at the head of the table and you almost swear she unbuttoned her shirt just a little further. You can now clearly see the black lace of her bra. Her legs are crossed and her heels rest on the edge of a chair across from her. She doesn’t smile as she looks up. She’s still your boss and she looks as dominant as ever. But not cold. Hot. But not comfortably hot. More like a fire hot. Like a hungry fire that will consume you if you come too close.

“Lock the door.”

You do. Then she nods towards the chair between her legs.

“Sit here.”

You step towards her and sit down, close enough for your knees to brush against hers. Her hand comes up and rests on your thigh. You see her staring at your crotch, your hard-on still clearly visible in your pants.

“That’s because of me, isn't it? Even after I let you have a taste you still want more?”

You start to speak, but she shakes her head.

“I don’t need you to explain it. I’m not angry. My patience has just run out.”

Is she admitting she’s been playing with you this entire time? Is she admitting she actually wants you? Is she-

Gran leans forward. And kisses you. Her mouth is firm and demanding. Her lips are soft, but press harshly against yours. Her hand moves to your collar, pulling you deeper, then sliding into your hair again. You smell her perfume once more, this time a little more intense. As if she applied it again. Just for you? Your hands find her waist and for the first time, you feel her body pressed against yours. There’s no desk, a door, or an office wall between you. 

Gran now climbs into your lap, her thighs sliding over yours, her skirt bunching up high around her hips. The heat of her body is reaching yours. Her shirt brushes against your chest, still unbuttoned at the top, revealing the swell of her breasts so close yet again. She doesn’t sit down fully. Instead, she shifts her hips forward, grinding slowly against your length, letting you feel the soaked fabric of her thong dampen your pants. You bite your lip when you hear the sound of your zipper opening. Her eyes stay locked on yours.

“You’ve been aching for this all day, haven’t you?”

Her hand slides into your pants. Fingers curl around your cock, wrapping tight around the base. She finally frees your cock from your pants, but she doesn’t move right away. She just holds it, feeling the weight and feeling you pulsate in her hand.

“You’re not going to last long.”

She shifts her hand up once, then down. You groan, your hips flexing helplessly. She glances down, watching the way your cock twitches in her hand. Then, without breaking eye contact, she opens her mouth. A wet string of saliva lands on your tip, slides down the shaft and meets her fist. Her hand moves with slow strokes, spreading her saliva all over your length. She keeps her grip firm, her thumb occasionally brushing your tip on the upstroke, making you tense beneath her. You try to meet her eyes. You try your best to hold on. But it’s just too much. The way she straddles you, her body warm and close. The way her tits bounce softly with every shift of her hips and with every stroke of her hand. The way her shirt stays just open enough for your imagination to fill in the gaps. It all overwhelms you. Your eyes fall for just a second. Down to her collarbone. To the pale curve of her chest framed by the black lace of her bra. One of the buttons strains with each subtle movement she makes, threatening to give you even more.

Gran catches your look instantly. She tightens her grip on your cock, which makes you hiss. But she doesn’t stop.

“Eyes on me.”

Your gaze moves back to her face, but it’s too late. She’s smirking down at you.

“Of course you’re staring.”

Her tone is amused. Confident in the way someone sounds when they know they’ve won. And Gran has definitely won whatever game she’s playing with you. She leans in slightly, her breath brushing your cheek.

“You’ve been undressing me with your eyes every day. And now you’re falling apart just from my hand.”

Her thumb presses against the underside of your tip, dragging slowly. You gasp, your hips twitching despite your effort to stay still.

“You really want to fuck me, don’t you?”

She asks softly, but doesn’t let you answer. Her hand keeps working your cock. Faster and wet and tight and perfect. Her saliva is making your length smoother, which makes it even easier for her fingers to glide up and down. You feel your climax building, embarrassingly fast. But her body pressed against yours makes it impossible to hold back. You look up again. Into her eyes. She watches you. The smirk playing around her lips is barely visible to you.

Her hand works faster, the wet sounds filling the room now. You can feel your release boiling in your belly. Your hips start to buck. You’re close.

But then Gran stops. Just like that. Her grip loosens and she releases you entirely, leaving your cock twitching, slick and painfully hard. She lets it fall against your stomach, but it bounces back and stands on its own. You gasp, while Gran bites her lip.

She watches you for a moment, then she lifts her hand. Her fingers glisten with her spit from your cock as she lets them hover in the air, observing the string of wetness that connects her thumb to her palm. Then, her eyes return to yours. Without a word, she leans forward and angles her head. Another slow string of spit falls from her mouth onto the flushed head of your cock. It lands warm on your tip, spreads down the shaft and mixes with the saliva from earlier. The way she holds eye contact the entire time makes the knot in your abdomen tighten further. She doesn’t blink or smile. As if she’s challenging you to cum without her touch.

After a couple of seconds of waiting, Gran’s fingers turn toward your shirt. She begins to undo the buttons one by one, agonizingly slow. Her knuckles brush against your chest with every movement. Your shirt opens under her touch, exposing skin inch by inch. When she reaches the last button, instead of undoing it as well, she grabs the end of your tie. She raises it and stuffs it into your mouth. Her own is just a breath away.

“I don’t want to hear another sound.”

She moves down again for the last button. Once she’s finished, she slides her hands up your torso, pushing the white fabric of your shirt aside, spreading it open like she’s unwrapping a gift. Then she shifts her hips forward. The soft fabric of her skirt drags along your tip. You don’t know if it’s on purpose, but it almost breaks you. It makes your whole body twitch. You’re so close, you can feel how wet she is through her thong now. Gran leans in and her lips find your collarbone first. They feel warm and soft on your skin as your head rolls back. Then she moves slowly upward, kissing your neck, just below your ear, then back down across your shoulder. Every kiss seems to burn hotter than the last. Her breath hitches slightly when she reaches your pulse and you feel her nails dig lightly into your chest. Next her lips hover near your ear, her breath warm and electrifying. She kisses you just beneath the lobe. Just once. Softly. Then lets her teeth close around it with a slow, teasing bite. You flinch, hips twitching beneath her. Then Gran speaks, her voice warm but somehow cold at the same time.

“I know what you want. I know how badly you want to feel my tits.”

You groan through the tie in your mouth, which makes her smile against your skin.

“All day, you’ve been staring. Imagining how soft they are…how they’d press against you while I ride you.”

Her hips roll slightly, letting the warmth of her body tease just above your tip again. You moan and she nips at your ear once more. Then she adds with mock sweetness.

"Answer me.”

You try, but the fabric in your mouth muffles everything. All that comes out is a needy, incoherent grunt. Gran chuckles softly, the sound low and amused.

“Oh.”

She says, leaning back, eyes raking over you.

“That’s right. I forgot I stuffed your mouth.”

She doesn’t even pretend to move to undo your tie. Instead, she adjusts her position, sliding her hand between you once more. Her fingers wrap around your cock again, still slick and sensitive, and she strokes it once, twice, just enough to make your whole body shudder. Then she lifts herself slowly and aligns the soaked lace of her panties just above your tip. Her eyes meet yours.

“You’ve been patient for someone this desperate.”

She murmurs as she shifts her hips, letting the warmth of her body press against your length. The fabric is thin and soaked through. The pressure is enough to make you groan again behind the gag.

“Let’s see how long you last inside me.”

She lifts her hips an inch more, then hooks a finger under the edge of her thong and slowly pulls it aside, revealing her slick, glistening pussy beneath. She holds your gaze as she lowers herself, guiding your tip past her lips. You feel her warmth first. The soft, wet pressure of her opening brushing against your head.

Then, Gran lowers herself. Only the tip at first. Her breath hitches, but her face remains composed. You groan through the tie, body twitching, everything but composed. She lets herself drop a little more, her tight pussy swallowing you inch by inch, stretching around you with unbearable slowness. She watches every flicker of pleasure in your eyes as she takes you deeper.

Finally, when she’s fully seated, your cock buried to the hilt inside her, she lets out a single, low breath through her nose. Almost like a reward. Her hands plant on your chest. She rolls her hips once, and your head falls back once more. Her pussy is everything you’ve ever dreamed of. Hot. Tight. Perfect.

She starts to move. Her rhythm is steady, using your body like a tool for her own pleasure. Her thighs flex, skirt bunched at her waist, her slick heat dragging over you with every stroke. Your eyes fall to her chest, her shirt open, the edge of her bra slipping, the soft rise and fall with each bounce of her hips. You can’t help it. Your hands lift, reaching for her waist. You want to touch her. You want to hold her. You want to feel her body in your hands. But her hand snaps out and swats yours away before you even make contact. You flinch, the sting sharp against your skin.

Her voice is still firm.

“Did I tell you to touch me?”

You shake your head. She leans in, her mouth right by your ear, still moving on top of you with a steady, seemingly effortless pace.

“Then keep your hands where they are.”

She straightens up again, planting both hands on your chest and rides you harder. You grip the edge of the chair. Your knuckles turn white. Her pace has started to become relentless now. It’s quick but deep, dragging her soaked heat up and down your length with perfect rhythm. You’re buried inside her, hips pinned beneath her strong thighs, your cock pulsing in the slick, clutching grip of her body. Every bounce sends heat racing through your spine. She rides you like she owns you. And to some degree you think she might actually believe that now.

The tie still stuffed in your mouth forces you to stay quiet, but it doesn’t matter. The way your body reacts says everything. Your thighs tense with each grind of her hips. Your head is all the way back. Sweat is running down your chest.

You can feel every detail of her pussy. The way her walls flutter around you. The way her weight shifts with each bounce. The way her skirt softly drags against your skin. The faint sound of her wetness meeting your body again and again.

You’re close again. But you don’t want to cum. You don’t dare cum. Not yet. Not until Gran tells you to. Then you look up. And the sight nearly ends you. Gran’s blouse has slipped even further open. Her bra is barely containing her tits as they bounce with each motion. Her breath is uneven now. Her lips parted. And sweat glistens at the base of her throat, sliding down the soft hollow of her neck, disappearing into her cleavage. You’ve never seen anything more beautiful. A bead rolls slowly down between her breasts, catching the light. Another traces the curve of her collarbone. Her long black hair is starting to stick to her skin. Her control is still there, but now it's mixed with need. You can see the hunger in her eyes. Her rhythm falters for the first time.

You realize she’s getting close too. You feel her tighten around you. Her thighs start to tremble against yours. She rides you rougher now, chasing her own high, and your cock pulses inside her with each bounce.

Your whole body is on fire. You want to beg. You want to touch her, hold her, pull her down and come so deep inside her you forget your own name. But the tie is still in your mouth. And your hands are clenched at your sides.

Gran can feel how close you are again. The way your thighs tense. The way your breath sounds hoarse and dry behind the tie. The twitch of your cock inside her with every stroke. You’re right there. Her eyes narrow slightly, lips curling into the faintest smirk as her hips keep moving, wet heat dragging along your length in slow, punishing waves. She leans in closer, her sweat covered chest hovering just inches from yours. You bite down on the fabric in your mouth to keep from moaning. Your whole body is shaking beneath her, hips twitching involuntarily with every grind of her soaked pussy.

Then her hands slide off your chest and wrap themselves gently around your throat.

You freeze.

Her palm rests across your windpipe, her fingers curled beneath your jaw, thumb pressing into the side of your neck just enough to make your pulse race even faster.

“You don’t cum.”

She whispers, riding you a little faster now.

 "Until I say so.”

Your eyes roll back. You groan into the gag. The pressure of her grip, her soaked cunt tightening around you with every thrust, the heat of her skin, slick with sweat, the faint scent of her perfume mixing with the salt of her body, her chest bouncing with every movement, her nipples pressing against the lace beneath her shirt, just visible now, soaked and clinging to her skin. All of it makes you go crazy. Your vision becomes blurry. Your cock pulses inside her. You’re so close you can barely think.

But Gran’s hands stay on your throat as her breath grows uneven. Her thighs start to tremble where they wrap around you, her rhythm faltering just slightly. Her hips grind deeper, harder, the sound of her soaked body taking you in again and again filling the room. Her grip on your throat tightens. She is not choking you. Not yet.

Her skin is slick with sweat now, strands of hair clinging to her cheeks and temples. A drop runs down her chest, vanishing into the valley of her breasts as they bounce with each movement. Her brows are furrowed, lips parted, and for the first time all day, her expression cracks into something more raw. Her eyes close. She bites her lip. Her body tightens.

A shudder runs through Gran’s entire frame. Her nails dig into your neck. Her hips slam down hard, grinding against your base. A broken breath escapes her lips. She climaxes with a slow, shaking cry, her cunt clenching around you in tight, pulsing waves. Her thighs clamp down on yours as she grinds through it, drawing every last ripple of pleasure out of herself while your cock throbs helplessly inside her.

You feel everything. The way her walls squeeze you. How hot she is inside. And how wet she is as well. Your hands dig into the armrests. Your head falls back. You’re holding on, but your will alone is close to not being enough.

Gran leans forward, collapsing slightly against your chest, her forehead brushing your collarbone. Her breath is hot and shaky against your skin. You twitch beneath her, your cock still rock hard, soaked in her juices. Your whole body aches, but you don’t dare to cum yet. Not until she says so.

She lifts her head slowly. Her hands still at your throat. She finally looks you in the eye while she’s still riding you, grinding her soaked heat against the base of your cock. Her muscles still twitch from her climax, every subtle movement of her hips sending shockwaves through your already overwhelmed body. You're barely holding on. Your legs are shaking. Your cock is throbbing, twitching inside her with every bounce.

She leans in, lips brushing your cheek as her hand drifts down your chest again.

“Where do you want to cum?”

You moan behind the tie. It’s muffled and desperate.

She chuckles against your ear. Again with that mocking sweetness.

“Oh… that’s right.”

Gran leans back slowly, her hand sliding up to your face. Two fingers hook into the tie and tug.

She pulls it out of your mouth in one smooth motion, the fabric soaked with saliva. You gasp, your jaw sore.

She tilts her head, voice is soft but still carries this threatening undertone.

“Now… where?”

You hesitate. Your mind is fogged. You want to be inside her. You want to cover her. You want everything. But you can barely form words. She watches the uncertainty flicker across your face. Her lips curl upwards.

“Do you want to finish inside me?”

The words hit like a bolt of lightning. You nod vigorously.

“Yes. Please.”

Her eyes glint with amusement. She doesn’t stop grinding you. But she doesn’t say yes. Instead, she bites her lip, feigning a little pout. She almost looks cute.

“No. Too easy.”

You blink. If you weren’t this close to your high, if you weren’t feeling this good inside of her…Her stupid games…

“Try again. Say what you really want.”

You hesitate again, but then your eyes fall to her chest, still glistening with sweat. Her shirt is clinging damp to her skin, the outline of her bra visible beneath.

“Can I finish on your chest?”

Her eyes light up. She leans back a little, gives you the tiniest nod of approval and a wicked smile.

“Now that is a better answer.”

She pulls herself off of you slowly. Her pussy still feels so slick and warm. The sound it makes has your legs shaking. It’s torturous, but it still feels so good. Your cock stands up between you, soaked and twitching. She wraps her fingers around it again and begins stroking you slowly.

“If you can hold on until I give you permission…”

Her thumb circles the tip. You twitch violently.

“…you can cum all over my chest. Every single drop.”

You groan, legs flexing, hands gripping the chair like you’re hanging from a cliff.

“But if you lose control?”

She tilts her head. Almost as if she’s teasing you.

“You’ll come in my hand like a loser.”

You let out a big sigh, unable to say anything. 

Gran starts to stroke faster.

“Understand?”

“Yes.”

You’re able to force one word past your lips.

“Yes what?”

She murmurs, pumping you tighter.

“Yes, ma’am.”

Gran strokes you faster in response. Her juices let her hand slide smoothly along your length. At first, the rhythm is fast, almost punishing, her palm slapping softly against your skin with every stroke.

You can’t control your body anymore. Your hips buck upward.

“Keep still.”

You clench every muscle to obey. Your legs shake under her. Your cock throbs in her grip, soaked with her wetness and spit.

Suddenly Gran slows down.

Her strokes turn lazy, almost cruel. A featherlight drag from base to tip that makes you twitch and gasp and whimper into the open air. You can’t take it. Every nerve in your body is buzzing. Your balls ache. Your whole frame is begging for release.

She leans in, watching your face.

“Ten.”

Your eyes grow wide.

“...Nine…”

She speeds up again. Faster and harder. Your thighs flex. Your teeth grit.

“Eight… seven… six…”

Your stomach tightens. It’s happening. You’re going to lose it. Right here. Right now.

“...five… four…”

You groan.

“Please…”

“Three…”

You can’t stop it. You’re there. Right on the edge. Just about to cum.

“Two.”

Gran stops.

Her fist tightens just below the head. Squeezing hard, cutting off your orgasm mid-surge. You groan half in pain, half in pleasure so sharp it borders on unbearable. Your cock jerks in her grip, but nothing comes. She holds you there. Right on the edge. Your cock is pulsating, twitching and leaking. You slump back in the chair, drenched in sweat.

She smiles. It’s not a warm smile. It’s a smile that shows that she knows how much she’s torturing you. And that she enjoys it.

Then she starts again. Her grip loosens, strokes slow and firm, working you back up like you hadn’t just been torn apart seconds ago. You try to brace yourself, but your body is trembling now. You’re oversensitive. But she strokes your length even faster anyway. Then slows. Then faster again. You can’t tell what’s up or down anymore. Only that her hand feels too good, and you’re not allowed to finish.

She starts a new count.

“Ten... nine...”

You moan, nearly sobbing.

“...eight... seven... six...”

This time, your whole body flexes by five.

“...four... three...”

Your cock starts to twitch again.

“Two-”

She stops again. Tight grip. No motion. Another silent scream tears through your lungs. You’re dripping again, your tip flushed red, throbbing in her grip. Your vision is hazy. She leans in, lips brushing your cheek.

“Not yet.”

Then she starts again. You’re on the edge of begging. You’re almost about to break. But Gran just continues. She watches you tremble beneath her hand, your chest heaving, your cock flushed and pulsating in her grip, slick with spit and arousal. Her strokes slow. Then stop. You brace for another round of torture, but instead she shifts.

Without a word, she rises from the chair and sinks down to her knees between your legs, her skirt slipping down her legs again, only giving you a second long view of her still moist pussy. Your cock stands right in front of her face. You must look so desperate to her. But you don’t care anymore. That’s how desperate you really are. If she told you to beg for it, you probably would. Without even thinking about it for a second.

A drop of precum beads at the tip of your cock, trembling before it falls. Gran doesn’t wipe it away.She leans in and licks it. Slowly. While maintaining eye contact. One smooth drag of her tongue across your tip. Warm and soft.

You jerk. Your thighs flex so tight your muscles cramp.

“F-fuck-”

You nearly lose it. But she doesn’t care. She tilts her head slightly and licks her lips.

“Mmm. That tastes good.”

Then she looks up at you.

“Cum for me.”

It doesn’t take a second. You barely register what she said. Your body reacts before you can. You can’t even let out a sigh of relief before you explode.

Your whole body freezes for a second. Your cock surges in her grip and thick ropes shoot across her chest. They’re hot and wet, marking her skin in uneven lines. The first splash hits just below her throat. The next runs across the lace of her bra and her shirt. Another lands high on her collarbone and drips slowly between the curves of her breasts. She keeps stroking you through every spasm, watching with dark eyes as you fall apart in her hand. Your hips jerk, legs trembling, every nerve unraveling in a wave of heat and helpless pleasure. By the time you collapse back into the chair, spent and shaking, her chest is glistening. Your cum is all over her cleavage. You thought that her tits drenched in sweat was the best thing you’d ever see. But you were wrong. Your boss’s chest, Manager Dong Gran’s tits covered in your cum. That’s the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen.

And she doesn’t even wipe it off. She just slowly stands up, smearing a bit of your load across her skin as she pulls her shirt back together.

Her voice is smooth and cold again. As if nothing happened.

“That was okay.”

You can’t tell if she’s serious, or she just doesn’t want to give you any credit.

She leans down one more time, her lips brushing your ear.

“Now get dressed. This counts as your lunch break.”

And with that, she walks out.

You sit at your desk, still catching your breath even though it’s been nearly fifteen minutes since Gran left you alone in Conference Room 2B. Your shirt’s back on. Your pants are zipped. Your tie is now loose around your neck after Gran made it into a makeshift gag for you. But you still feel used. Ruined. Your cock is soft now, but your skin is still burning, your nerves still raw. You’ve never been more thoroughly fucked in your life.

It’s already lunch hour by now. But you’re not going anywhere. She told you that counted as your break.

You stare at your monitor, pretending to scroll through reports while your brain replays every sound she made.

You shift in your seat, but then you hear the soft clack of boots, or maybe sneakers. You already know who it is before you even glance up.

Yujin.

She’s just now arriving. Her bag is slung lazily over one shoulder. A coffee in one hand, her phone in the other. No one seems to notice that she’s already missed like half of the entire workday?

And she’s not wearing anything close to work appropriate either. Loose, dark jeans hang low on her hips. Her top is… well, barely a top. It's the idea of a blouse. White, sheer enough to reveal the outline of her bra beneath it, clinging to her in all the wrong places. No sleeves. No shoulders. Just a plunging collar and a ridiculous little checkered blue tie draped down the center of her chest, drawing your eyes straight onto her tits. Her chest isn’t as big as Gran’s, but the way the thin blouse stretches over her bra makes it seem like it is. Almost like she dressed with that in mind. Her midriff is completely exposed as well.

You stare just for a second. Then you force your eyes back to the screen.

Yujin ignores your presence and slumps down at her desk. She doesn’t have her own office and Gran doesn’t share hers, so you’re stuck with her. You know you should just ignore the way she simply put her legs up on her desk. And how she drinks her coffee. And how she scrolls through her phone. You’d threaten her with telling Gran how little work she’s doing. But Gran already knows that herself. You’re not sure why Yujin is allowed to behave like this. Arrive at work during lunch. And just chill in her seat. You don’t think she is the relative of one of your bigger bosses. Right?

You try to ignore her. But the soft tap-tap-tap of her nails as she scrolls is maddening. She lounges in her seat like she’s at home on the couch, not several hours late to work. Her coffee cup rests lazily between her thighs, straw propped between glossed lips. 

You’re just about to focus back on your work, when the elevator dings at the end of the hall. Two people step into the corridor. One man, one woman. They’re dressed sharply. He’s in a tailored navy suit, no tie, glasses, clipboard in hand. She’s in heels and a sleek gray dress with a heavy looking portfolio tucked under one arm. You glance up from your monitor just as they head for Gran’s office.

They knock and then the door opens. Gran appears briefly, just long enough to greet them with a nod and step aside to let them in. Her blouse is buttoned again now. Not a single trace of what she did to you remains on her face. She looks as cold and as professional as ever.

The door closes.

Despite catching Yujin moving just in the corner of your eye again and again, you do your best to concentrate. The meeting stretches on. Thirty minutes. Then forty-five. Then over an hour.

You're glad that your work is pretty repetitive right now. You just have to move numbers from several datasheets to others while checking if they’re correct. The routine dulls your overstimulated nerves.

Yujin, on the other hand, doesn’t do anything productive. As usual. She stays glued to her phone the entire time, switching positions like a bored cat, legs crossed, then up on her chair, then hanging off the side. You hear a few quiet giggles. A sigh. The rustling of her fingers digging into a bag of chips she probably had stuffed somewhere in her oversized bag.

At exactly 1:24, the meeting ends. The door to Gran’s office opens, and the two visitors step out, their voices low and professional. Gran walks them down the hallway, composed as ever. You glance discreetly, but she doesn’t even look your way. Then the click of her heels fades. And suddenly Yujin’s screen lights up.

She groans dramatically, dragging her chair backward as she squints at the message.

“Oh my God.”

She mutters, half laughing.

“She’s so annoying.”

You glance over, pretending not to care. Yujin turns off her phone and finally, finally lowers her feet from the desk. She stretches her arms overhead again, making her shirt ride high enough to expose even more skin.

“Be right back.”

She says in a sing-song voice. Then she spins out of her chair and heads toward Gran’s office, hips swaying, fingers fixing the hem of her too-short blouse as she goes.

The door closes behind her.

You try to return to your work for the 100th time today. But then you hear Gran’s voice. Muffled at first, but louder than usual.

“I asked you one thing, Yujin!”

You freeze. Gran never raises her voice. She never has too because her cold professionalism always has everyone do whatever she says.

But now?

You can’t make out every word. Just bits.

“-completely unacceptable-”

“-should have been informed before they walked in-”

“-not a game, Yujin-”

You flinch with every phrase, but you’re glad that you aren’t the one she’s screaming at. To be fair, Yujin deserved it. You don’t even have to guess what happened. Yujin clearly didn’t tell her about the meeting. Gran had to handle it herself, completely unprepared, and you can only imagine how much she must have hated that.

Then it goes quiet. Dead quiet. Nothing. No sound. No footsteps. No Yujin.

You almost jump when you get another message.

New Email – From: Manager Dong Gran

Get in here. Now.

No subject. No greeting. Your pulse spikes instantly. You stand up. Your hands feel clammy and your stomach tightens. You’re afraid she’s about to unleash that same wrath on you. Reaching the office door, you hesitate. Then you knock.

“Open it.”

Inside the office, the air was tense as soon as Yujin entered. Manager Dong Gran stood behind her desk with a tight  jaw and her chest rising and falling with shallow, clipped breaths. Her voice cut through the room like a deadly knife.

“You didn’t tell me. You knew about the meeting and said nothing.”

Yujin stood on the other side of the desk, arms crossed, her hip cocked out, not a trace of guilt on her face.

“I forgot.”

She said, her voice casual and not apologetic at all.

“You handled it fine, didn’t you?”

Gran’s eyes narrowed.

“I walked into a high-level partnership review without briefing notes, Yujin.”

She leaned forward, hands flat on the desk now.

“And while you were lying in bed, probably choosing that excuse of a top, I was left improvising a strategy for a two-quarter client package.”

Yujin rolled her eyes.

“It’s not like they noticed.”

Gran’s gaze fell briefly to the top in question. White and barely work-appropriate. No shoulders. No sleeves. The little blue tie hanging between Yujin’s breasts only made the whole outfit more absurd. Her tits seemed to draw attention with every shift of her weight, her stomach visible in the glow of the office lights. Gran’s jaw clenched tighter. She hated how hot it looked.

Disgusting, she told herself. Unprofessional.

But the heat in her lower belly hadn’t fully faded since earlier. Because of you. Because of your mouth. Because of your cock.

Her fingers twitched. A punishment. That’s what Yujin needed. A lesson. Real consequences. And wouldn’t it be fitting…If you helped?

The thought made her lips curl into a smile. Gran straightened. Her voice dropped, now with even more authority.

“I’ve had enough of this. Enough of you.”

Yujin raised a brow, but there was still a smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth.

“Yeah? What are you gonna do? Write me up?”

Gran didn’t answer. She reached for her keyboard instead. And quickly sent you a message.

“Get in here. Now.”

Then she looked up again.

“No. Not this time.”

Yujin blinked.

“What?”

Gran stepped out from behind the desk, just as a soft knock echoed from the door.

“You’re going to get proper punishment.”

And then, without looking back, she called out.

“Open it.”

You step into the office, unsure what you’re walking into. Gran is standing calmly beside her desk. At first glance, nothing seems unusual.

Then you see Yujin. She’s standing on the opposite side, arms still crossed and her posture defensive. She doesn’t even glance your way. Her eyes are locked on Gran’s.

You open your mouth to ask butGran moves first. Without warning, she grabs a fistful of Yujin’s hair, pulls hard, and bends her forward over the desk in one clean motion. Yujin gasps, more surprised than hurt, but the moment her hips hit the wood, Gran raises her hand and brings it down on her ass with a sharp crack. The sound echoes through the room. Yujin yelps, twisting under her grip, but Gran doesn’t let go. You freeze in place.

Gran looks over her shoulder at you.

“Close the door.”

You do. Then she turns back to Yujin, who’s squirming in place, pinned down by the weight of Gran’s body.

“I told you there would be consequences.”

Gran’s voice carries a threatening tone.

“And I meant it.”

She glances back at you again, her expression sharp. Just like earlier today.

“You’re going to help me.”

You swallow hard.

“With what?”

Gran smiles, but there’s no warmth in her smile. Even calling it mischievous would be an understatement. More like evil

“You’re going to spank her. You’ll use your hand. Or whatever I hand you. You’ll do it until she apologizes…”

She leans down a little, her lips close to Yujin’s ear.

“Or until her ass is as red as these ridiculous panties..”

You see Gran reach into Yujin’s jeans and pull at the waistband of her panties. Yujin yelps in surprise, but then snorts.

“I’m not apologizing.”

She mutters into the desk, still breathless.

“You’re both out of your fucking minds.”

Gran chuckles.

“You’re the one that’s out of her mind, thinking she could continue acting like a little brat at work.”

She looks at you again.

“If she still doesn’t admit she’s wrong, we’ll take it further.”

She brushes Yujin’s hair from her face, her fingers almost gentle despite the grip she just used moments ago.

“We’ll make sure she never acts up again.”

Her eyes flick to you.

“What are you waiting for?”

You hesitate for quite a while. You look at Gran, then at Yujin and then back at Gran. The look in her eyes eventually makes you jump into action. As you step forward you watch how Gran reaches for a fistful of Yujin’s hair once more. She leans down, basically exposing her cleavage to her and to you.

“Pull her pants down.”

Gran’s voice is still cold and steady but despite talking to you, her eyes are locked on Yujin’s.

“We want to make it sting.”

Yujin bites her lip as she’s forced to look at her boss. Gran’s grip on her hair is tight, too tight to be playful. She really is being serious. The sting on her ass from that first slap is still burning. And getting her panties pulled like that wasn’t comfortable either. But Yujin realizes that it isn’t the pain that is leaving her breathless. It’s the control. The control that Gran has over Yujin’s body. Until just a moment ago, she thought you wouldn’t go through with it. But now she can feel you standing right behind her. Her heart is beating faster as you reach around her waist. It’s not from fear. Not really. It’s from something else. Yujin feels your hand undo her belt and then the button on her jeans as Gran’s words ring in her head again.

“You’ll spank her…until she apologizes.”

Apologize? Not a chance. Yujin smirks into Gran’s face as you pull down her pants. She can feel the cool air hit the soft skin on her ass as the denim pools around her on the floor. She does her best to look unbothered, amused even. But on the inside, Yujin wonders how far the two of you will really take it. She doesn’t even notice that her body is starting to tremble a little. The anticipation is building up inside of her as she waits for that second slap.

You raise your hand after exposing Yujin’s ass. You admire her full cheeks, the small red thong teasingly peaking out between them. Your hand falls and Yujin gasps as your palm meets her right cheek. Her butt jiggles a little and the sound echoes through Gran's office. Yujin’s breath catches in her throat as the sting spreads across her skin. She bites her lower lip, eyes fluttering shut. Not just her butt, but her entire body is now burning. Not just because of the pain, but because she feels seen. 

This isn’t just punishment. This is attention. Undivided, focused attention. Yujin’s heart thuds in her chest and she feels her cheeks flush, not just from embarrassment, but from the raw want coiling tighter inside her. She’s being watched. She’s being judged. She’s being punished.

And she likes it. Each strike makes her hips shift against the wood, searching for friction without thinking. Your hand now meets both of her cheeks again and again. She presses her thighs together, hoping to maybe soften the impact a little. Yujin has told herself she wouldn’t give you the satisfaction of an apology. Not Gran and not you. But now, she isn’t so sure she wants you to stop either. Not if it means losing this attention. Not if it means missing what comes next.

Gran’s voice cuts through one of Yujin’s whimpers after you hit her left cheek.

“Still not ready to say you’re sorry?”

Yujin forces herself to smirk. Or at least something close to it.

“Not even close.”

But her voice cracks slightly at the end. Not enough to be obvious, but just enough to let a little of her real desire slip through.

Gran stands still, arms folded. There’s no need to continue pinning Yujin to the desk. Your hard slaps weaken her body. Instead, Gran’s eyes are just locked onto the scene unfolding in front of her. To you she looks unbothered and composed.

But you can’t feel the heat inside Gran. Not just arousal, though that simmers low in her core, but something deeper. Satisfaction and possession and power.

Yujin, for all her defiance, is being put in her place. Gran has seen that smirk a hundred times before and a hundred times again. Also paired with laziness, being late, or a sharp comment about her authority. Now, Yujin is bent over her desk, legs trembling, thighs pressed together. That crack in her voice didn’t slip past Gran unnoticed.

She couldn’t stop her lips from slightly curling upwards. SHe knows that Yujin is reaching that line between protest and pleasure. She isn’t just punishing a subordinate anymore. She is reshaping her. Breaking through her bratty shell to find the submission hiding beneath. 

And you? The way you obeyed without question and are now carrying out her order with every single slap. It only makes Gran feel even more in control. Her gaze stays sharp as she wonders. How far can Yujin be pushed? How long will her brat persona last? And when she cracks completely, will she be begging for more?

“Use this.”

You look up from your work. Both of Yujin’s cheeks are already pink. The fine imprint of your hand is clearly visible on either of them. Your eyes focus on the plastic ruler Gran is holding. You feel her stare on you. Her expectation wears heavy on your shoulders as you take the ruler into your hand.

Yujin is able to catch her breath for only a second. Her butt hurts. It stings and the pain continues to spread through her entire body. Her legs feel like jelly. But as much as she appreciates the small pause, the more afraid she is of what might come next. She doesn’t know what Gran gave you. Her head is lying on the desk, one cheek pressed against the surface.

Then the whoosh of air fills the office as the ruler slices through it. Yujin tenses instinctively, clenching her butt just a second before the plastic connects.

Crack

She gasps. Yujin’s skin sings beneath the sting and she lets out a trembling breath. Her cocky exterior slips just a little more. She squirms, thighs tightening again. She desperately tries to keep her already cracked composure. But another hit with the ruler has her gasping once more. This one has the sting in her other cheek bloom instantly. It’s sharper and cleaner than the slaps of your hand. It feels like an icy bite into her cheeks and then spreads like fire over skin.

Another crack and Yujin tightly grips onto the edge of Gran’s desk. She wants to say something. She wants to play it off. Her mind scrambles for a comeback, but the ruler hums again through the air and the third strike steals her words.

From now on, every sharp snap pulls her further from her control. It’s replaced by need and lust. A twisted curiosity for how far the two of you will push her.

Another swing. Another snap. Yujin exhales sharply through her nose, her knuckles whitening as she holds her grip. The rhythm of the strikes is steady now, giving her no time to collect herself. Each sound of the ruler cutting through the air makes her body tense before it even lands.

By the tenth strike, her breathing is heavier. Not from the pain alone, but from the realization that neither of you seem anywhere close to stopping. Her earlier smirk is long gone, replaced with tight focus on the desk under her hands, on keeping her breathing steady and on not giving Gran the satisfaction of an apology.

From your angle, you can see the way Yujin’s shoulders tense before each strike. Like she’s bracing herself but refusing to give you the satisfaction of flinching too much. Her earlier smirk is gone. Now it’s a thin line of determination. But you can tell it’s costing her.

You bring the ruler down again. Crack. Yujin’s grip on the desk tightens, her knuckles pale. Another strike. Crack. She exhales hard, the sound something between frustration and effort.

You pause for just a moment, the ruler hovering in the air. Yujin’s head tilts slightly, like she’s expecting another blow right away. You see Gran’s faint smirk. She’s reading Yujin’s body just as well as you are.

“Still not ready to apologize?”

Gran’s voice cuts the air instead of the ruler.

Yujin turns her head just enough to glance at her.

“Not yet.”

Her voice doesn’t carry the same weight as before.

Gran nods slowly toward you.

“Then keep going.”

You raise the ruler again. The whoosh makes Yujin’s shoulders tighten before the crack lands across her skin.

And you realize Gran isn’t in a hurry. She’s going to let this play out until Yujin finally surrenders.

But to your surprise, it doesn’t take much longer. Only after a couple more strikes, Yujin’s broken voice makes you come to a hold.

“Sorry.”

One simple word.

Your hand is raised for another slap, but you stop midair. Glancing at Gran, you see her smirking down at Yujin. Like she knew that it was gonna end like this all along.

“Sorry for what?”

Her tone stays cold and you can tell how Yujin is moving every single wheel in her brain to come up with a satisfying answer. You pity her a little as you look down on her. Her plump cheeks look thicker than before. It probably hurts so bad she won’t be able to sit for the rest of the day. Her skin is not even a light red anymore. It’s a very dark red. The imprints of your hand and the ruler mix, barely noticeable through the thin white lines.

“F-For being so bad at my job.”

This is the first time you’ve seen Yujin this serious. You wonder if she’s just apologizing because she wants the pain to stop. Or because Gran has really broken her with this disciplinary action. By the way her thighs continue to rub together, your guess is on the latter.

“And?”

“F-For being such a s-slut?”

“Is that a question?”

Before Yujin can start shaking her head, Gran gives you a look. Another crack echoes through the room. You hope it really is the last one. It has Yujin gasping several times.

“N-No. I-I am sorry for dressing like a…a whore.”

Yujin looks up at Gran and you can see a slight twitch of satisfaction on her lips.

“I accept your apology, slut.”

She lets the word hang in the cold air. Almost as if she’s telling Yujin that this is her new name for now.

“The problem is, you’ll need to apologize to your colleague too.”

“Huh?”

Yujin barely manages to look over her shoulder. Only now can you see her face. Her quivering lips. Her wide eyes. Her blushed cheeks.

“Look at his cock.”

Your breath hitches. You had hoped it’d come to this, but you still pity Yujin. You can’t hide that you’re hard. Yujin’s ass has been so close this entire time. And that red thong is still teasing you.

“He’s hard because of you.”

Yujin looks into your eyes.

“I-I am sorry.”

“No, slut.”

Gran shakes her head.

“This is something you don’t resolve with words.”

Yujin’s eyes visibly widen and her jaw drops a little. But Gran motioning you to stand next to her captures your attention. Once the two of you stand right in front of Yujin’s face, after she turns her head, your boss takes a fistfull of Yujin’s short hair again.

“Grab her like this.”

You do as told. Once again you and Yujin lock eyes. Both of your breath’s stall for a second when Gran reaches down and undoes your pants. They hit the floor a moment later. Slowly, very slowly, Yujin lowers her gaze. She’s met with your tip right in front of her face while still being bent over Gran’s desk. Manager Dong stands straight again and whispers into your ear.

“Make her earn your forgiveness. Do it properly.”

She doesn’t even have to explicitly threaten you for you to understand that this is a you or Yujin situation. And if her punishment is taking your cock, you prefer that over getting punished yourself.

Yujin’s eyes flicker with hesitation as you move your hips forward. She looks up at you, at your cock, up at you and back at your cock again. Her mouth is closed. But when your tip nudges against her soft lips she slowly opens them. You feel her warm breath reach your cock as she exhales. Taking a step closer, you push yourself into her mouth. Yujin’s eyes cross as they watch your length enter her mouth. The sight has your breath hitch. Then they look up at you again. 

“I hope you can do better than that.”

You didn’t even notice that Gran walked around the desk and is now standing behind her secretary.

Trying to give Yujin an apologetic look, you push further into her mouth. Her warmth welcomes you as she closes her lips, sealing them tightly around your length. You feel her tongue brush against your tip. And as her lips glide along your shaft, her tongue follows underneath.

Keeping her head in place, you start to pull out before thrusting back in. You’re aware that you aren’t using Yujin to her full capacity, but you don’t want to overdo it after that vicious spanking. She continues to look at you as you start to fuck her face. You’ve been at the receiving end of her occasional flirting and subtle touches and now you think that this might be something Yujin has thought of before. Probably not like this. Not with Gran. But just with you.

Yujin gets adjusted to your size in her mouth and your grip on her hair. She can’t help but wonder how roughly you could use her face after you showed her how strong you are. She’s even considering teasing you, tempting you, for a moment. But a sudden touch on her folds has Yujin arching her back in surprise. Gran placed two fingers on her secretary’s pussy lips and Yujin can feel them slowly move up and down. Not in or out. Just outside. Teasing.

“Take her throat.”

Her order makes both you and Yujin shiver. You pull out of her mouth until only your tip rests between her lips. And then you push in again. Further and further. You brush the back of her mouth. Then you push against the soft barrier of her throat. And finally you slip inside. Having her airway blocked and her pussy teased makes Yujin see stars instantly. She can’t properly prepare when you pull out again and thrust back inside. You do it again and again, making Yujin shake on top of the desk. She’s now almost lying on it.Gran is holding one of Yujin’s burning cheeks for support as she continues to let her fingers glide over her pussy.

Yujin suddenly yelps around your cock. A small smack echoed through the room just a split of a second earlier. You look down at Yujin’s wide open eyes, but you don’t dare stop fucking her throat. It takes you a moment to realize what happened. Gran didn’t just strike her. She slapped Yujin’s pussy. You wonder what the younger of the two must be feeling right now. Her face is a mixture of surprise, pleasure and discomfort, probably even pain. 

Another slap. Yujin’s body jerks forward, impaling her throat on your dick. Instead of crying out, she chokes.

You feel Gran’s stare on you so you don’t stop. Even while Gran is hitting Yujin’s cunt, you continue fuck the helpless girl’s mouth. Every thrust and every hit turns her into a bigger mess than she was before. Her entire body is shaking and quivering as she’s getting punished from both ends.

Your boss eventually stops after around a dozen slaps. Satisfied, she looks down at Yujin’s red pussy lips. They’re sensitive and sore, probably pulsating with need and pain. The short break from Gran’s hand gives Yujin a moment to relax and to focus on your cock. You’re still using her throat like a toy. You thrust into it until you hit her limit, making her choke. Then you pull back again, giving her only an attempt to catch her breath, before you block her airway once more.

You watch how Yujin’s once perfect makeup is now ruined. Her fake lashes are gone and small black streaks of her mascara are running down her cheeks. Her hair is a mess too after you and Gran pulled and tugged at it. Her chokes and gag makes Yujin’s spit escape the corners of her mouth, covering her chin, your cock and Gran’s desk in her saliva.

As you continue to ruin Yujin’s throat you feel a familiar knot in your stomach. It starts to tighten quickly. You don’t want this to end too soon. But instead of pulling out, you push further into Yujin. This time you don’t just reach her limit, but break it. You feel her gag again and again as you make her take your whole length. Staying in place like that has tears running down Yujin’s cheeks. Her grip on the edge of the desk tightens as she does her best to fight her reflex. Your head rolls back at the feeling of her throat basically trying to milk you dry. Your cock gets wetter by the second. But eventually, you do pull out again. Heavy gasps escape Yujin’s mouth a second later and strings of her saliva connect your tip with her lips. While she tries to catch her breath, you can’t fight the urge to ruin her even more. You hold your cock and wipe it across her once flawless face. Her own saliva washes away the remaining makeup that survived up until now. 

Yujin doesn’t even react to you ruining her face. She’s too tired and too tortured to do anything. Her eyes are closed, her mouth still open, trying to establish a normal rhythm of breathing, not caring, or maybe even enjoying what you’re doing.

You look up again when Gran walks back toward you. Your eyes widen as she undoes the buttons of her shirt. One by one. Until the white fabric reveals her black lace bra and her tits. You still can’t believe she let you cum on them. And that’s why your jaw almost drops as Gran lowers herself to kneel in front of you. Her eyes are locked onto yours as she does so, but her words are directed at Yujin.

“You’re gonna watch this. Because yours are too small.”

After all the physical humiliation Yujin had to go through, Gran is now embarrassing her even further. Your boss takes your wet cock into her hand and guides it towards her cleavage. She places your tip just beneath it, inviting you to thrust into it as she pushes her tits closer together. As you do, your breath shakes at the feeling of Gran’s mounds wrapped around your cock. Her soft skin almost has you gasping. Yujin’s saliva helps you with thrusting up and back down where you started. You do it again and again. It feels like a reward. As If she’s telling you she’s satisfied with the spanking and the throat fucking. But it’s very obviously also another way for her to put Yujin in her place. Her secretary can only watch your cock move between her boobs, paired with the unfiltered expression on your face. 

After you’ve already used Yujin’s throat, Gran’s tits quickly drive you towards the edge. You feel them jiggle slightly when she moves a little. A groan slips off your lips as you concentrate on looking down. Her eyes tell you that it’s okay to let go. You can’t believe you’re about to paint Gran’s tits for the second time today.

And a second later, you do. Your orgasm hits you. And ropes of your cum hit Gran’s skin. All over her tits and some of it on her collarbone as well. You can barely hear Yujin gasp as she’s forced to watch. Even Gran herself can barely contain a smug grin.

After you collapse into her chair, your boss stands up and turns towards Yujin. She scoops up a bit of your cum with one finger and then moves it toward her. Yujin hesitates, but then opens her mouth and even sticks out her tongue. But just as your semen barely touches the tip, Gran pulls away. A wordless whine escapes Yujin’s lips.

“You don’t get a taste. It’s for something else.”

Gran’s cold tone has Yujin shiver in anticipation. You watch as she walks around Yujin yet again. Then, Yujin gasps as she feels Gran’s cum coated finger brush over her pouckered hole. 

“It’s for this.”

You and Yujin lock eyes as her lips quiver in realization.

----------------------

Hi everyone!

I'm probably the last on to hear of this yet again, but I recently discovered the game "Five hearts under one roof" in wich Dong Gran plays one of the love interests. I couldn't help myself, so here is a fic of her and Yujin.

Hope you enjoy it!

[grownishhgambino]

Sabotage

FT. Yujin IVE

Word count: 9k+

Tags: semi-public sex, a bit of a couple drama, An Yujin as your bratty-needy girlfriend, is doggystyle the best position OAT? it is.

POV: First-person Narrator - Yujin x Ben (OC)

Yujin decided to throw a tantrum after being taken to a basketball game by her boyfriend on their date night.

Writer's note:

This story contains some rough-play element to it, so readers are who not much into that, be advised.

Also, this is my first time writing a full story in the first-person POV, and I can confirm that it is the hardest POV to write for me personally, mainly because of how limiting or claustrophobic it can feel at times.

But anyway, I tried my best still, and I had a lot of fun writing this one.

The actual smut starts at the sixth asterisks, in case you're not interested with the rest of the buildup.

Enjoy .

————————————————————————

INGLEWOOD, CA.

The cool night air outside the Intuit Dome carried the electric buzz of twenty thousand fans pouring toward the gleaming glass entrance. Purple and red lights swept across the massive structure, pulsing like a heartbeat. I killed the engine in the parking lot and stepped out with my phone already up, recording a story. 

“Ay, we in the building tonight! Clippers versus Raptors, baby—let’s gooo!” 

My voice cracked with pure hype. The camera caught my wide grin, the Clippers logo stretched across my hoodie, and the chaotic glow of the stadium in the background. My girlfriend, Yujin, was nowhere to be seen around me yet—probably still in the car, fixing her makeup and whatnot.

When she finally stepped out, I heard her heels click against the asphalt, slow and deliberate. Yujin lagged behind me as I half-turned my neck around, arms folded tight under her bulging chest in those skimpy zebra-print tank top, lips pushed into a full pout.

“Babe, come on!” I yelled, “The game’s about to tip off soon.”

She didn’t speed up to my call. Not even a little.

By the time she caught up to me at the wide, brightly lit lobby, the roar of the crowd and thumping bass inside the arena already washed over us. I kept my phone away and slid an arm around Yujin's waist, tugging her against my side.

“You good, babe? ” I asked, lacing her fingers around mine. “Why’re you walking so slow anyway?”

Yujin gave me a little shrug, eyes sliding away on purpose. “I’m not. You’re the one who walks fast because you’re excited to watch the game.” She rolled her eyes so hard it was almost theatrical, then added under her breath, “So excited that you didn't even care to hold your girlfriend’s hand when you left the car.”

My eyebrows lifted to her passive-aggressive response, but I smiled anyway and gave her fingers a playful squeeze to soften her up. 

“Well, I’m holding it now, aren’t I? And trust me—” I leaned in, voice dropping to that teasing register she usually loved, “—I’ve got zero plans to let go of them anytime soon. At least until you tell me you need to pee, then maybe I’ll consider it.”

Yujin didn’t crack a smile. Her face stayed flat, almost bored, even as colorful lights danced across her features and the smell of popcorn and overpriced beer filled the air. I studied her for a beat, thumb brushing over her knuckles as we took small steps forward towards the entrance.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” I asked, softer this time. “You don’t look too happy.”

“I’m fine,” she answered, tone flat enough to skate on.

“Really?” I stopped walking and gently turned Yujin to face me in the middle of the bustling lobby. Fans in Clippers blue streamed past us. “Then let me see those smiles real quick.”

She forced her lips upward into the most half-hearted, dead-eyed smile imaginable.

I tilted my head, unimpressed. “With the dimples, please.”

Yujin held my gaze for a long, heavy second—something sharp and thoroughly unimpressed flickering in her eyes. Then, with visible reluctance, she stretched her lips into a wider smile, drawing the signature dimples of hers that I’d foolishly fixated on, settling deep and perfectly shaped into both her cheeks.

“There we go,” I said, grinning like I’d just won a prize as I pulled her closer into my arm and pressed a quick kiss on the top of her head. “Now, come on. Tonight's gonna be a fun one, I promise.”

***

The concession area was a chaotic river of bodies and noise. Bright overhead lights glared off stainless steel counters with long lines snaking in every direction. I stood patiently in one of the slower queues, holding my girlfriend’s hand while rocking slightly on my heels, still riding the high of finally being inside the Intuit Dome for the first time as a loyal, born and raised Clippers fan.

In the meantime, Yujin stood glued to my side, still and quiet. Her phone screen glowed against her face as she scrolled her phone with lazy flicks of her thumb, lips pressed into a permanent pout for some reason.

When the line finally melted away, I stepped up to the counter with an order already in mind. “Hi, let me get a 6-piece chicken cocktail and a large Coke, please.”

The cashier nodded, tapping rapidly at the monitor.

I glanced over at Yujin, smiling. “What about you, babe? What do you want?”

No response. Just the faint sound of her keyboard clicking as I saw green bubbles popping up on her screen.

I waited for a beat, then turned more fully toward her. “Baby, I’m asking you here,” I said, voice staying gentle though with a firmer edge underneath. “Just put the phone down for a second, please—there’s a huge line behind us.”

Yujin let out the tiniest, most theatrical sigh under her breath. She rolled her eyes, slow and deliberate, before putting her phone down. Her arms crossed tight under her chest, pushing her breasts up in a way that would’ve been distracting if I wasn’t already fighting mild irritation.

She stared at the glowing menu board for all of two seconds, then turned her body away from me like the mere act of deciding was exhausting.

“I don’t want anything,” she muttered, voice flat. “We just had dinner.”

I raised an eyebrow to her answer. “You sure? Not even a drink?”

She gave me the smallest shake of her head, already returning to her phone like the conversation had never happened—a classic shutdown from her, to be fair. I exhaled through my nose but let it slide this time.

“Alright then,” I said, turning back to the cashier. “I guess that’d be all. How much do I owe you?”

The cashier flipped his monitor to display the amount as I tapped my card against the scanner. With only one hand available and Yujin clearly not offering to help, I juggled everything awkwardly—drink pinched between my forearm and ribs, the sausage cup balanced in one palm—while my other hand stayed latched onto her cold, lazy fingers.

“Thanks, man. Sorry for the delay,” I said to the cashier as I was about to leave the counter.

“No prob,” he replied. “I’ll catch you in a minute.”

We then left the concession stand and started weaving through the crowd to get to our section inside the arena. I was still buzzing from the excitement, eyes scanning the arena signs, hands busily juggling the food and my girlfriend all the way through, when the cashier’s last words finally registered in the back of my head.

I slowed down my steps a little, frowning as I whispered to myself, “Wait… Did he say he’ll catch me in a minute?”

***

The roar inside the arena slammed into us the second we stepped through the entrance, twenty thousand voices rose in a deafening wave. Down on the court, the Clippers players were jogging out of the tunnel in their sharp white-and-red warmups.

My entire face lit up upon the sight of them. “Oh shoot—baby, it’s the tunnel walk!” I stopped dead on the stairs, eyes glued to the court. My hand was already scrambling to reach the phone out of my pocket. “Would you hold the snacks for me real quick? I just need to get a clean shot here for my story.”

Yujin narrowed her eyes at me once again as I transferred the load into her unwilling arms. I remembered to give her fingers a quick, grateful squeeze before taking a few steps down for a better angle.

By the time I finished filming and turned around, I realised that Yujin had already found her way to our seats. She was sitting in a rather stiff way, crossing her legs tight and folding her arms. Her face was looking dead serious like she was on a job interview or something. The snacks sat untouched on her lap, probably gotten a little cold too since it didn't have any cover on it.

I slid in beside her with my phone in hand, mouth still stretched with excitement. “Well, that’s my Insta Reels sorted for the night,” I said, bumping her shoulder gently. “I wish we could’ve been closer to the court, but these are not too bad either, right?”

Yujin didn’t reply. She just stared blankly straight ahead, one foot tapping against the floor.

Still buzzing, I reached toward the tray for a piece of sausage, eyes on my phone as I replayed the clip. My fingers dug blindly around the greasy cup… then deeper, and deeper, yet not one piece got stuck on the skewer.

 I leaned in to look inside the cup and frowned. Only one sad piece remained in the corner. My head tilted towards Yujin immediately.

“Wait—did you eat all the sausages?” I asked her.

Yujin licked her teeth slowly while side-eyeing me. “No. I left you one there, obviously.”

I blinked at her, half in disbelief, half-confused. 

“Yeah, but…There were six,” I replied. “And you said you weren’t even hungry when we’re at the concession stand earlier.”

Yujin gave me a little lazy shrug, lips curving into the faintest of smirk while she acted all casual. “Well… I wasn’t then,” she said, shifting slightly in her seat. “Anyway, are you gonna eat that last one that I saved you, or may I?”

The crowd then erupted as the players lined up for the anthem, interrupting the convo for just a split second. But before I could say anything else, Yujin leaned in closer and parted her glossy lips expectantly, holding my gaze like she was daring me to not feed her the last piece that she supposedly ‘saved’ it for me.

And of course, I folded to the pressure. Not because I was scared of her or anything like that, but because I knew it was never worth fighting over a piece of chicken cocktail.

Yujin then took it slowly—and deliberately—as I fed her the piece, her big eyes still locked on me instead of the food going into her mouth. She chewed the meat with exaggerated satisfaction, licking a stray drop of sauce from the corner of her lip like it was the tastiest thing she ever had.

“Mmm,” she purred, followed by a cheeky little wink, “Yummy.”

I forced a light-hearted smirk at Yujin before sinking back into my seat, trying to make peace with the fact that I just got trolled hard by her before the game even started.

I then grabbed my my large Coke and took a good long sip of it, knowing there was a chance for it to not lasted through the game either.

“Fair play, baby,” I whispered in my head, "Fair play.”

***

The match tipped off with a sharp whistle by the crew chief. I was instantly on the edge of my seat, leaning forward, hands clenched on my knees as my team had seemed to start the play on a back foot, constantly losing the ball and whatnot.

“C’mon, get back on D!” I yelled, veins popping on my neck.

But then, after only a few minutes into the game, I sensed a familiar set of fingers tugging gently on my sleeve, which forced me to take my eyes off the court as I turned to Yujin immediately.

“Yes, baby?” I asked, leaning down towards her a little because of the noise.

“Will you go get me a drink, please?” She gave me her best sweet pout. “I need to wash the oil down my throat from the sausage bits earlier. It's getting a little bit itchy.”

I didn’t hesitate at her request, picking up the giant Coke from the cupholder and handing it to her with a warm smile. “There you go, babe,” I said. “I got us a Large on purpose.”

Yujin looked at the cup, then back at me. “No, this is a regular Coke, babe. I only drink the Diet one.”

I frowned at her genuinely. “You do? Since when?”

“Since the internet had decided to let me know how my belly looks like when it’s out in the wild,” she said with a dramatic little sigh. “Apparently I’ve been gaining weight, they said.”

I blinked slowly, literally had no idea what she—nor the internet—was talking about.

“Baby, your belly’s looking perfectly fine,” I said, rubbing my thumb against her thigh. “And there’s nothing wrong with gaining a little weight either. If anything, it makes you look way healthier and sexier than you ever was. Trust me.”

Yujin’s lips curved into a tiny, pleased smile. “Aw, thank you, babe, that’s so sweet,” she said while caressing my face. I glanced back at the court just as the Clippers took a shot that clanged off the rim. Then, with her eyes stretched wide and innocent, she added, “Now will you go get me my Diet Coke still?”

My neck snapped back at Yujin. At this point, I had literally lost count of just how many times she made me slow-blinked at her in the last couple minutes alone from all her shenanigans.

“Pleaseee~" she added as she saw me hesitated, begging with her entire body. "I really don’t wanna mess up my eating plan right now. My nutritionist will be pissed.”

“But baby… Can we at least wait until the end of the quarter?” I said, trying to negotiate. “It’s only like ten minutes away. We’ve barely sat down here.”

Yujin didn’t respond. Instead, she just sat there staring at me with those big, expectant eyes, lips slightly pouted, holding both my arm and the silence like a weapon.

Then finally, she broke it. “You know what? You’re right. I should probably just go get it myself—”

“No, no, no—” I scrambled up, gently catching her wrist. “Just sit back down, alright? I’ll go get it for you.”

“Are you sure?” she asked, all fake concern. “I don’t wanna make you miss the game or anything…”

“Yeah, it’s fine. I got it.” I gave her a quick, affectionate smile. “Anything for my girl.”

Yujin’s face lit up in a way that I couldn’t quite tell its authenticity. Either way, she leaned in and pressed a soft, lingering peck on my cheek—the kind that always melted me regardless of what.

“And no ice, please, Ben,” she added sweetly.

I nodded as I headed for the stairs, climbing two and three steps at a time on the way back up, eyes flicking desperately toward the court as the game was heating up. 

By the time I reached the concourse I was slightly out of breath but still buzzing. No snaking lines at the concession, I slid straight to the counter to put my order in as quickly as possible.

The same cashier greeted me with a wide, almost knowing grin. “Welcome back.”

“Yeah, man,” I panted. “Same order as before, but make it a large Diet Coke this time, no ice.”

He tapped his monitor rapidly before moving towards the pantry to prepare my order.

In the meantime, I kept my head turned towards the TV they got mounted on the wall, watching the live feed of the game with my fingers tapping restlessly against the marble-surfaced counter.

In the corner of my eyes, I could see the cashier guy kind of smirking at me as he randomly said,“Woman, huh? Always got the opposite way of saying things when you asked them.”

I let out a half-chuckle, though my eyes were still on the screen as I replied to him, “Yeah… tell me about it.”

He then grabbed a cup and started scooping some ice into it. I caught the action by the sound and stopped him immediately. “Oop—no ice, man.”

“You sure?” asked the guy, frowning a little.

“Yup, positive. That’s how she ordered it.”

He then shrugged and dumped the ice before finishing the order. I grabbed the snacks and the fresh Diet Coke off the counter and hurried back into the arena without looking back for a second.

When I reached our row, I caught Yujin  meddling with my giant regular Coke before she caught my return and wiped her mouth innocently. She’d clearly taken several long gulps while I was gone, no doubts about that—-but I decided not to call her out for it given the game we had in hand.

“Here you go,” I said, handing her the heavy cup of Diet Coke as I dropped back into my seat.

“Oh—Thanks, baby,” she replied sweetly, acting a little surprised like she didn’t see it coming her way. 

She took a slow sip of the drink before smacking her lips exaggeratedly. Then I felt my sleeve being tugged by her—again.

“Benny, sweetheart—” 

“Uh-huh?” I leaned in, eyes still glued to the court.

“There’s no ice in this.”

I shifted my head closer as the noise low-key drowned her voice. “What’s that?”

 “I said there’s no ice in this,” she repeated, shaking the cup across my face before softly pressing it against my cheek, “It’s warm.”

I then turned my head to look at her fully, eyes blinking in confusion. “Yeah… because that’s what you asked for, right? No ice?”

Yujin shook her head, lips pursed in that perfect mix of cute and annoyed. “No, you must've misheard me, babe. I said more ice, not no ice.”

I froze in my seat for a sec, patience flickering just a little for the first time of the night. 

“Okay, so…” I hesitated, “you want me to go back there and get the ice for you? I literally just got here.”

Yujin held my gaze, calm and unreadable, letting the silence stretch for a beat before she could drop  her verdict.

“No, that’s fine,” she said casually. “Let’s just swap drinks then. I can’t do this warm stuff anyway.”

And just like that, Yujin went ahead to pluck my icy regular Coke off the holder and replaced it with her room-temp Diet one instead. She then proceeded to take a good, long sip of it like she had somewhat forgotten about her ‘diet plan’, just leaning back and smiling like a cat who’d successfully knocked another glass off the counter.

Meanwhile, I stared at the warm cup of Diet Coke sitting next to my arm—that I felt was staring and laughing back at me for some reason—realizing I’d just made the entire trip to the concession stand and missed a big part of the first quarter for absolutely nothing.

***

The second quarter had passed in a blur for both of us. Luckily, I got to stay locked into the game without any major interruptions this time, freely cheering and bouncing off my seat with every play like I was trying to get my money’s worth come the end of the night.

Next to me, Yujin sat limp with her phone, just doom-scrolling her feed until her nails wore off or her battery ran out, whichever came first. She didn’t even try to enjoy the game, not even a little. And truth be told, it left me feeling a bit terrible to have dragged her there on our date night.

But ultimately, for some context, this was just one of those situations where, as a boyfriend, you just had to make do with a plan and hope it works for the best. Because the tickets that got us in here? They cost about five hundred dollars each. And I happened to get it for free from my workplace after winning the Salesman of the Month.

Now, if you thought that I was going to burn this golden opportunity for a romantic walk in the park, or a cuddly movie sesh at the cinema—something we had done, and could’ve done again any other day at a far less cost in comparison—then forgive me, but that was not going to happen. 

And that was me operating in a practical way, not immature or selfish—or at least that’s what I told myself.

Anyway, by the start of the third quarter, I could almost tell that she was up to something as I saw her fixing her posture on the seat.

“Yes! Get in there, Kawhi, let’s go!” I shouted, pumping my fist.

Yujin waited for the perfect, loud moment after the ball had gone into the net before she leaned in to me and said, “Babe, I’m cold.”

I couldn’t hear her the first time to respond.

She then tugged on my shirt. “Benny—”

I turned right away. “Yes, babe?”

“I said I’m cold. It’s freezing in here.”

I raised a brow at Yujin’s claim, glancing around in slight disbelief as I could feel myself sweating a little under my clothes as we spoke. “Is it?”

She nodded cutely, both arms hugging her petite body. “Let me wear your hoodie.”

“My hoodie?” I repeated, followed by a half-chuckle. “But, baby—this is the only thing I got on right now. I don’t wear anything underneath.”

“But I’m cold…” she replied softly in an extra lilting voice, blinking those big sparkly eyes at me while she pouted and wrapped her hand around my arm, pressing her chest against me just enough to send heat pooling low in my groin.

I knew what she was doing, by the way. I absolutely did. 

But between watching the game and catering to my girlfriend’s tantrum, I found it to be the best outcome if I could find a way to tackle both of them without making it look like I was prioritizing one over or the other—because I really wasn’t.

“Okay, you know what? Just get over here, babe,” I said, gently pulling her closer under my arm while I tucked the loose strands of hair behind her ear. “It’s fine...You’re fine. It’s not even that cold.”

Yujin pressed her face against my chest as she wrapped a lazy arm around me, snuggling in . “It is. You just don’t feel it because you’re wearing that instead of a skimpy tank top like I do.”

“Well,” I said, still playing with her hair, “for the record, I did remind you to bring your jacket before we went out earlier, did I not?”

“Hmm…” she murmured sweetly, “… but I didn’t because I thought you’re gonna take care of me anyway.”

Yujin's words melted my heart instantly, especially since the way she said it just made it seem like I was being mean to her, which was clearly not in my intention, if that was ever the case.

I then looked down at her with warm eyes and planted a gentle kiss on the top of her head, rubbing her shoulder as we continued watching the game. For a while, she stayed curled up against me like a sleepy little puppy on a cozy evening, and the only thing missing was a blanket to cover her up. 

But as the third quarter was heating up and I got more invested in the game again, her hand suddenly began to slide lower and lower down my thighs until I felt myself tensing a little under my jeans, pulling my attention away from the court as she softly caressed my bulge in the least subtle way possible

I then turned to her with a half-chuckle. “Babe, seriously?”

“What?” she said, faking innocence. “Just resting my hand on your lap.”

“That is not my lap, Yujin. This is—” I cracked an embarrassed laugh as I gently moved her hand to the safer area. “And we got families and kids sitting around us right now, so I’d kindly need you to behave a little, alright, baby?”

I planted another gentle kiss at the side of her head, using it almost like a sedative for her at this point.

And for a few seconds, it actually worked. She managed to behave while laying by my side as we continued to watch the game—of course, with me keeping her hand where I wanted it to be. 

But then, almost like she was jealous of the game itself and wanted me to stop looking at it, she then tilted her head up and began laying a series playful kisses on my neck, jaw, and even my ear.

Knowing the agenda behind it, I tried to stay locked onto the game, treating her bold, lusty show of affection as nothing more than a background noise while my eyes remained glued to the court with only a few seconds left on the clock.

Suddenly, just after I was celebrating a point, Yujin tossed my arm aside and shot up from her seat without saying a word.

My eyes snapped towards her in an instant, grabbing her hand before she could walk away. “Baby, where are you going?”

“Outside,” she tossed over her shoulder sassily, “Don’t come after me.” 

She then shook off my grip with a forceful snap of her wrist before making her way through the row and headed for the stairs.

Now I might be a little slow at this, but it took me a few seconds before I realized that I needed to chase after her—especially after remembering the cashier’s earlier comment about women and their tendency to say the opposite of what they mean. 

And so I did.

***

“Baby, wait—” 

Yujin ignored my call, heels clacking down the hallway in a haunting echo as she increased her pace. I trailed behind desperately, feet sliding through the slippery floor as I blasted through the entrance.

“Just talk to me for a second, alright? This isn’t the way to act,” I said, still chasing after her. “You can’t just walk off from me like that.”

She remained silent in her stride, hips swaying in dangerous motion as she fastened up and made a turn around the corner. I was subtly shaking my head at this point, watching her walk in the wrong direction that we came in despite the obvious arrow on the wall.

“Yujin, answer me,” I said, quickening my steps so I didn’t lose her. “Or at least tell me where you’re going, cause this clearly ain’t—”

The second I rounded the corner, a pair of hands then grabbed the front of my hoodie and yanked me to the side with real strength. I flinched at first, startled, thinking for a split second that some random person had jumped me out of nowhere. 

But the moment I tasted her—that familiar cherry gloss and pure frustrated hunger—crashing hard against my lips, my body began to relax again as I let Yujin take charge of the situation. She pressed her back against the wall, hands keeping me as close to her as possible while she pushed her tongue deep inside my mouth, fighting for some space and reaction from mine.

When she finally let go and allowed me to breathe again, I drew my face back an inch and stared directly into her eyes, trying to read her expression quietly between those heavy gaze and flushed cheeks.

“I just don’t like being second on your attention, Ben,” she said, hands hanging loosely on my chest. “And especially not when I’m in the middle of a date with you.”

“But, baby… you’re not second to my attention, ever,” I replied, half-chuckling. “And I thought I made that pretty clear already for how I treat you tonight. We were both having a good time—”

“No,” she cut in. “It’s you who have a good time here, Ben. I was practically invisible in there—which I knew, for a fact, was gonna happen the moment you showed me those tickets.” She looked away, half-chuckling. “Like, I can’t even get you to look at me for more than 2 seconds without the stupid game getting in the way, even when I was literally begging for your attention in there. It’s like we’re not even on a date, and it makes me so fucking pissed—”

I dove in and kissed her before she could finish her sentence, pushing my tongue deep into her mouth to stop her from talking, just like how she did it to me earlier. My hands sat steadily on her tiny waist, foreheads pressed warm against each other during the deep kiss.

She didn’t outrightly protest. Her expression was rather stumped than angry by the time I let her mouth free, lips parted and breathing unsteady. I smirked and brushed my thumb across her soft, burning cheek.

“There… It’s the attention I owed you tonight,” I said, voice low and serious. “Would you like me to give you more of them?”

Yujin held my gaze, brows furrowed, lips curling into the cutest full pout as she said, “T-That’s not the point, Ben. You can’t just kiss me and think it’ll solve everything—”

I didn’t let her finish.

I leaned in and captured Yujin’s mouth again, slower this time—deeper, gentler—pouring everything into the kiss. My warm palm gently cupped her face as I took control of the rhythm, tasting her frustration and melting it away until I felt her softening in my arms. Yujin clutched tightly onto my hoodie, holding on for balance as her knees buckled beneath her the longer the kiss went on.

My teeth grazed her lips on the way out, as I smirked at her and said, “What about now? Still think this isn’t the point?”

Yujin narrowed her eyes at me, chest heaving, cheeks redder than ever. For a moment there, I thought I just made a mistake. That the double kisses didn’t work and she was about to slap me in the face for being tone-deaf or heavy-handed—until she crashed her head against my chest and leaned in towards me entirely.

“You’re so annoying, do you know that?” she said defeatedly. “Always make me look like the crazy one for wanting the bare minimum while you act so calm all the time. Like dating me means nothing to you.”

“Well, that’s too bad then,” I replied, smirking. “Because I find you to be so lovable regardless of how big of a tantrum you tried to throw at me, and how hard you tried to sabotage our date.”

Yujin’s eyes shot up at me as I said that, lips pursed in the embarrassment of being called out for her behavior.

“That’s right, babe. The snack, the soda, the hoodie request—I acknowledge them all. I knew you did it all on purpose to sort of distract me from the game, which is fair enough. I ain’t mad about that at all.” I leaned in closer. “But I also know that there’s a reason you made us have this conversation while we’re standing five feet away from the fire exit door instead of anywhere else inside the stadium.”

Yujin swallowed, eyes shifting like she couldn’t stand my gaze.

My voice dropped, low and intense. “So let me ask you again; do you still think this isn’t the point, or would you like me to take you behind that door so I can prove it to you?”

***

I stumbled backward through the heavy fire exit door with my lips locked onto Yujin’s until the cool, echoing emptiness of the emergency staircase swallowed us. The door clicked shut with a finality that sent a thrill racing down both our spine. No crowd. No cameras. Just concrete walls, dim lighting, and the muffled roar of the game somewhere far behind us.

Our kiss turned vicious now that I got Yujin pressed flat against the wall—tongues clashing, wet and hungry, breathing hard through our noses. My hands then dropped to her delicious hips, gripping the soft denim as I squeezed and pulled her flush against me, stealing what little breath she had left.

Having had enough of the cherry taste, I broke the kiss with a low growl and latched onto her neck, teeth scraping, lips sucking hard enough to leave blooming red marks along her damp, salty skin. Yujin’s head fell back against the wall with a soft thud, eyes fluttering as quiet whimpers slipped from her throat. Her hand wandered down shamelessly, palming the thick bulge straining in my jeans.

I caught her wrist instantly and pinned it to the wall on her side, just to mess with her patience. “Not yet, baby,” I murmured against her throat.

Then I dropped lower.

My mouth traveled down Yujin’s body, kissing and licking her curve over her tank top until I reached the soft, exposed skin of her sexy little pooch. I zeroed in on that familiar spot right beside her belly button that I found to be my long-time favorite—the one with a pinky-red birthmark on them in the shape of a random country on a map, popping up nicely against her fair, bright skin. I sucked on it hard, tongue pressing aggressively like I was trying to leave a hole on her stomach, making wet, obscene popping sounds with every pull.

Yujin’s breath ragged, voice shaky as her fingers tangled in my hair. “W-Wait… what happens if we get caught?” 

“Well,” I chuckled against her skin, still kissing, “should’ve thought about that before you lure us into this, no?”

“Yeah, but… I just don’t want us to get in real trouble, you know?” she gasped, even as her hips twitched toward my mouth. “Like, can they actually throw us in jail for this?”

I kept going, mouth trailing lower while my hands worked her jeans button and zipper open with practiced ease.

“Relax, babe…” I murmured, pressing another kiss just below her belly button. “Nobody’s going to jail tonight.” Another kiss, lower. “Worst case? They ban us from the arena.” I grinned against her skin. “Which is fine by me. I can just start supporting the Lakers instead.”

Yujin let out a breathless laugh, her body jumped a little as I popped the button free and tugged the waistband of her red lace thong down with my teeth.

“So I guess you’re not that loyal of a guy then…” she teased, voice shaky with amusement, “...seeing that you can switch sides so easily.”

“Oh, I’m loyal, babe,” I said, flashing her a wicked grin before I finally yanked her jeans down to her ankles in one smooth motion and rose up quickly on my feet, pressing my forehead to hers, eyes dark and amused. “Which is why I’m here taking your pants off instead of watching my team win the championship from my five-hundred-dollar seats.”

And before she could even react, I then fixed my hands on Yujin’s waist and spun her around—just firm enough to make her gasp as her palms slapped against the cold concrete wall, and rough enough to wipe that smug look off her pretty face. Her bare ass was now presented to me in the most glorious sight under the dim white lights, back slightly arched as I pressed my bulge against it, jeans tangled around her ankles like a thick cuff.

I pressed up behind Yujin, lips brushing her ear. “And no, that’s not me complaining at all,” I whispered, voice thick with lust, “so I hope you won’t either for the things I’m about to do to you now that we’re stuck in here.”

Yujin swallowed at my words, trying desperately to meet me at the corner of her eye.

I quickly unbuckled my belt, shoving my pants and boxers down to my knees. My throbbing cock sprang free—thick, heavy, and painfully hard. The swollen tip slapped hot and heavy against Yujin’s bare ass cheek with a lewd sound, making her jolt and whimper at the sudden, burning contact.

I then proceeded to slide my thick cock between Yujin’s soft, meaty ass cheeks, letting it nestle deep along her crack like warm sausage on a bun. Her red lace thong was still intact, acting like a soft little harness that kept my shaft trapped right where I wanted it

With both hands pinning her against the wall, I started grinding—slowly, deliberately—rolling my hips in long, lazy strokes so the underside of my cock rubbed deliciously against Yujin’s tight little hole and the soaked fabric of her thong.

“Do you like that, baby?” I growled low against her ear.

“Mmm-hm,” Yujin whimpered, biting her lip.

My lips curled into a devilish smirk behind her ear. “Then show me how much you like it—”

Smack.

My palm came down on Yujin’s right ass cheek in a firm, sharp spank. The sound echoed beautifully in the empty stairwell as her soft flesh jiggled hard under my hand, a perfect red palm print blooming instantly on her pale skin.

Yujin gasped dramatically, acting like she just got shot from point-blank the way her head was tilted back before a soft moan escaped from her mouth. The sting from the slap melted smoothly into a pool of heat that flowed straight between her legs. 

That said, Yujin still complied devotedly to my request like a good girl I knew she was—pushing her ass back and rolling her hips in filthy little circles like she was giving me the sluttiest reverse lap dance of my life—allowing my cock to slide freely up and down between her cheeks without me having to break a sweat.

My eyes darkened with pride as we locked gazes over her shoulder. “That’s it, baby. Move those hips for me.” I praised, smirking. “Can’t expect me to do all the work when you’re the one acting like a needy little brat all night, can you?”

Yujin shot me a pouty, flushed glare even as she kept grinding harder against my cock. Her dazzling eyes met me with a mix of pleasure and protest of being teased upon, hairs sticking on her face as a sign of hard work.

But after only a minute, Yujin’s rhythm began to falter, hips slowing as her thighs burned underneath me. I clicked my tongue playfully, rubbing a palm against her sticky, sweaty ass cheeks in a gentle appreciation. Then—

Smack. Smack. Smack.

Three quick, stinging spanks landed on Yujin’s ass, each one making her yelp and clench. Fresh red handprints decorated both cheeks now, glowing hot against her skin. She caught my hand on the third strike and held it close, using the warmth of the same touch that caused her the pain to sorta absorb it.

“You’re slowing down already?” I teased, breathing down her neck. “Want me to give you a little rest?”

Yujin nodded desperately at the offer, eyes glassy, breathing ragged.

I wrapped a strong arm around her waist, holding her steady as I stopped her movements. I then pulled Yujin back against my chest and kissed her deeply from behind, jamming my tongue inside her parted mouth in slow, wet, and tender motion. At the same time, my free hand gently rubbed the stinging marks I’d left on her ass, soothing the burn while my still-hard cock throbbed between her cheeks.

“Get on your knees, baby,” I whispered hotly as I broke the kiss. “Let’s give you the break you wanted.”

Yujin didn’t hesitate for even a second, dropping down instantly as her knees collected the dust from the cold concrete floor. My thick, throbbing cock hung heavy right in front of her face, the swollen tip already leaking clear, sticky precum that glistened beautifully under the dim emergency lights.

She licked her lips hungrily at the sight. Her warm breath made me twitch a little as they brushed over my pole.

“Patience, baby,” I said, smirking. “Don’t open your mouth until I tell you to.”

Once again, Yujin complied like a good girl. I smirked and rubbed the leaking head across her flushed cheeks, slapping it gently against her pretty face while I watched her eyes flutter with pure wants and needs. Her soft, parted lips chased after it, planting wet little kisses along the shaft like she couldn’t get enough of the taste.

When I finally held still, Yujin wrapped both hands around my thick length and started stroking me passionately, using my own precum as a lube to smoothen up the motion. She waited patiently for my signal, eyes shifting between my cock and my face, begging for the greenlight to come.

Then, as soon as she caught the subtle nod of my head, Yujin leaned forward and took me into her warm, eager mouth like a starving person on the street. She pushed in her face until her nose almost brushed my pelvis, swallowing as much of my cock as she could while keeping her eyes locked on mine the entire time.

I groaned deeply, head tilted back from the pleasure while I bucked my hips. “Fuck…yes, babe. Just like that.”

Yujin took the praise well, bobbing her head back and forth tirelessly to cover the entirety of my pole with her drool. It was far from tidy what she was doing—little webs and bubbles all around her mouth—though that was just the way I preferred it from her every single time; a sloppy, wet blowjob done to perfection.

In fact, I even thought at one point that the job was too clean by Yujin’s standard, the way things were looking. And so, I removed her hands off my cock and placed them around my thighs instead, bounding them in place. 

“Use your neck, baby,” I said to her. “I want to feel you really work for it.”

Yujin moaned around my length and started bobbing harder, putting her neck muscle to good use. Wet, sloppy sounds filled the stairwell as my heavy balls bounced against her chin. Her drool spilled uncontrollably from the corner of her mouth, turning both her face and her top into a complete mess as they dripped onto her chest.

But then, while Yujin was busy slobbing on my pole, I saw the opportunity to get a little cheeky and seized it instantly, reaching down to the floor at more than 90° degrees to remove her jeans off her ankles. The movement forced me even deeper into her mouth as I bent forward, taking my time with the supposed task until I felt my tip touching the back of her throat. 

Yujin gagged hard as her face was buried flat against my groin, eyes watering, nails digging into my thighs like she was trying to bleed me. I held there for a few long seconds, savoring the tight, fluttering heat of her throat, before finally pulling back from her mouth

A thick string of saliva stretched from her swollen lips to my glistening cock before breaking and dripping onto her tits. Yujin gasped and coughed, chest heaving as she tried to catch her breath. She then looked up at me with teary, furrowed brows—equal parts pissed off and ridiculously turned on.

“What?” I asked with a wicked little smirk. “Just wanted to get those pants out of the way.” I then brushed the sweaty strands of hair from her face tenderly before cupping her cheek, thumb stroking her flushed skin as I admired how beautifully ruined she already looked. 

Yujin pouted her lips in protest of the cheeky deepthroat attempt—but still had her hand wrapped around my cock, stroking it slowly while giving me that signature cute-angry look of hers.

I then reached for her arms as I dragged her back onto her feet. Yujin held my gaze in a rather empty way, almost like she didn’t know what to expect—until I crashed my mouth against hers in a filthy, passionate kiss, tasting her own spit and the faint salt of my precum on her tongue. At the same time, my hands roamed down Yujin’s half-naked body like it was a free real-estate, grabbing her bare ass and spreading those fat, meaty cheeks apart as I fondled them to my liking while she sucked on my tongue.

And then—SMACK. Another good old spanking on both her cheeks, timed perfectly as a closer to the kiss.

Yujin jolted and yelped into my mouth, more startled than it actually hurt her. She frowned and smacked my chest in playful protest, but I just smirked and leaned in towards her, brushing her nose softly as we touched foreheads.

“You did good, baby,” I growled against her lips. “Now, both hands on the rail. Let me take care of you.”

Yujin turned around obediently, gripping the cold metal railing of the staircase with both hands. She arched her back deeply and pushed her ass out toward me like a filthy offering, looking back at me with pure, dripping need in her eyes.

I dropped into a squat behind her with one hand steadily jerking my boner, eager to finally bring my mouth into the dirty action.

Without any hesitation, I then proceeded to peel off her soaking red-laced thong and buried my face between her cheeks. My mouth worked aggressively to kiss and suck on her soft, plump ass like a man starved, leaving wet, open-mouthed marks everywhere. Yujin tugged desperately at my hair, whimpering as she felt my teeth grazed her skin, sucking hard enough to leave purplish-red hickeys on both sides.

“Oh my god—Fuck—Be gentler, Ben,” she moaned, but I didn’t listen. I just spread Yujin’s ass wider and dragged my tongue straight across her tight little hole as she bucked her hips uncontrollably, her hand pushing my head to go deeper and lower down her crack, to which I happily complied to both.

No second invitation needed; I dove into her curtains like a savage.

My tongue pushed deep into her soaked pussy, licking and slurping noisily with my nose pressed between her ass cheeks. I ate her like I was trying to drown in her, flicking her swollen clit ruthlessly before spearing my tongue inside her dripping hole again and again. 

Yujin’s legs shook every time she felt me touching her wall. She pushed her ass back, grinding shamelessly against my face while she gripped onto the railing for dear life.

When I finally pulled back, I found my face to be in all kinds of mess with Yujin’s sweet nectar and my own messy drool dripping all over my chin. I then spat directly onto her pulsing pussy before I stood up and lined up my throbbing cock against her opening, rubbing the fat, leaking tip up and down her slippery folds while she looked at me expectantly.

Then I thrust in hard.

One brutal stroke buried me balls-deep inside Yujin’s tight, dripping cunt. Yujin’s mouth fell open in a silent scream, eyes rolling back as her walls clenched violently around my thick shaft.

“Oh my God… fuuuck,” she moaned, voice breaking.

I groaned at how perfectly she squeezed me, almost losing my footing for how good the first-entry sensation was. I then took the chance to lean myself forward, kissing Yujin messily over her shoulder while she twisted her neck to meet me and wrapped an arm around my head, still impaled on every inch of my cock.

At the same time, my hands gripped her waist tight as I started humping her in that intimate yet slightly awkward position. Slow and deep at first—wet, filthy sounds echoing in the stairwell with every thrust. Then harder. Faster. The sharp slap of my hips against her reddened ass filled the space as Yujin’s moans got louder and more desperate, her arm finding its way back onto the railing for the sake of her own balance.

Settling into the momentum, I then reached around and shoved both her tank top and her bra up within one single scoop. Her modest-yet-very-cuppable tits spilled free into the cold air of the emergency staircase, nipples already hard and stiff as I brought them in between my fingers.

That said, I placed both my hands on Yujin’s mounds and grabbed them roughly like a set of handles, pinching and twisting her solid twin peaks while I continued to rail her from behind. She let herself drown with the motion, neck soft as a jelly as I watched her head bobbed loosely every time we clashed.

Then, without warning, I locked both of her arms behind her back, holding her wrists in one strong hand like handcuffs before I used the leverage to fuck her even harder—fast, brutal, punishing strokes that made her entire body jolt forward and her pupil disappeared within every thrust.

Yujin was completely helpless in my grasp. Her feet barely touched the ground as I fucked her senseless, using her like body like a human-sized fuckdoll. Her eyes rolled to the back of her skull, tongue hanging slightly out, drool slipping from the corner of her mouth as her pussy gushed around my cock.

“O-Oh my God—Ben—Fuck!” she cried out, voice cracking with every violent thrust.

I leaned in and bit down on Yujin’s limped shoulder, growling low and filthy against her skin while she tilted her head back towards me. My heavy balls slapped loudly against her wet clit as I slammed into her even deeper—just so I could watch that blissfully lewd expression on her face.

But then, as I kept pounding her mercilessly, I could feel that familiar pressure building up fast. 

I immediately pulled out my cock that was glistening with her juices, and dragged Yujin down to her knees. She tilted her head back in muscle memory, offering her face like an eager little cumslut, eyes big and hungry staring at me.

I jerked my throbbing cock hard and fast right in front of Yujin’s pretty face, tip swollen in hot red-pink like it was ready to explode at any moment. However, after almost a minute of frantic stroking, I was still stuck on the edge, for some reason, struggling to get my kids over the line.

Yujin then leaned in and pressed her soft lips against my sagging ballsack once she got a little impatient, sucking one heavy nut into her warm mouth, then the other, slurping noisily while her eyes locked onto mine.

I, on the other hand, continued to work my cock up and down with that extra boost she was providing me. Unfortunately, even with the extra boost Yujin was providing me, I could only feel myself shying away from the climax as both my hand and my legs were getting a little tired.

“Sorry, babe. False alarm,” I panted with a dark chuckle. “Ass up, please. I need to go back inside you.”

Yujin obediently got on all fours, arching her back deep towards me despite the slight disappointment on her face. “Be gentle, alright?” she said. “We’re not on a bed right now. I don’t want to fuck up my knees.”

I didn’t respond to her advice.

My mouth went ahead to drop a thick pool of saliva on her already dripping hole before I grabbed a fistful of her tank top like reins. Then, with my game face on, I slammed my entire cock back inside her pussy in one direct, brutal thrust.

“Oh—Fuuuuck—!” she screamed, thighs shaking as I sent her into an instant orgasm. Her back arched violently as I bottomed out against her cervix.  The new angle hit her G-spot perfectly, pussy spasming and gushing around my thick shaft.

I didn’t show Yujin any mercy. And especially not after my ego was scratched by the false alarm just a few seconds earlier.

I started fucking her hole like a savage—hard, fast, animalistic strokes that made her meaty ass ripple and clap loudly with every collision. Sweat poured down both our bodies in the stuffy stairwell as the wet, obscene plap-plap-plap sounds echoed off the concrete.

I then reached forward and wrapped one hand around Yujin's throat, pulling her back as I buried my face against her neck and bit down hard, hips still railing her senseless while she moaned in both pleasure and pain underneath me.

It was a tiring experience, for sure. And doing it doggy-style on a rock, hard surface was never fun for both parties unless kneepads were involved, so I didn’t plan to hold Yujin in that position for longer than it should.

And so, I took the risk to get it over the line quicker, planting a few more kisses on her neck before I shoved her face down and rose into a squat.

Yujin’s cheek was pressed flat against the cold floor, ass sitting high in the air as I prepared to go full feral mode over her. I kept a steady arm on her waist and another on her nape before I began pounding her like a wild animal—deep, punishing strokes that made her scream into the concrete. Her eyes rolled back, drool leaking from the corner of her mouth, makeup completely ruined as her hair stuck onto her sweaty face.

Every brutal thrust made my heavy balls slap against her clit. Yujin was a wrecked, whimpering mess at this point—ass jiggling violently, legs trembling, pussy creaming all over my cock.

“Just hold still, baby,” I growled, voice hoarse under my breath. “I’m almost there.”

Yujin could only moan brokenly in response, losing control of her own body.

Finally, after a series of relentless pounding, I felt the orgasm hitting me like a freight train. I yanked my cock out of Yujin’s hole with a wet pop as it exploded all over her before I could even get hold or put a target on it.

Thick, powerful ropes of cum shot across her back in heavy spurts, some even landing on her tank top, and some in her messy hair. I kept milking myself, painting her glistening ass cheeks and dripping pussy with the rest of my massive load.

Yujin stayed in that fucking position for a bit longer—face-down, ass up—breathing hard against the floor as warm cum slowly ran down her thighs, legs still quivering from the intense orgasm.

I collapsed behind her on the floor, chest heaving, completely spent. Post-nut clarity slowly crept in as I looked around the dingy emergency stairwell and realized how lucky we were to be able to commit the act without any interruption, given that there was no lock on the door whatsoever.

I then glanced at my watch and stopped the timer that I set before we moved inside the emergency stairwell. “Huh… fifteen minutes. Not bad at all.” I smirked, still panting. “I guess there’s still time for us to watch the fourth quarter if we get back to our seats now—”

Gluck. Gluck. Gluck.

My eyes widened at the sight of Yujin’s face suddenly sitting in between my thighs, swallowing my still-hard, cum-smeared cock down to the base in one smooth motion. She looked up at me with those big, innocent-yet-filthy eyes while sucking me clean, tongue swirling around my sensitive head like she hadn't had enough of my taste.

“Forget about the game,” she said, pulling off with a wet pop, strings of spit and cum connecting her lips to my cock. “You can watch the highlights at home.”

I let out a long, defeated groan, running my hand through my messy hair while I witnessed my cock twitching back to full hardness in Yujin’s greedy little mouth. Somewhere far away, the muffled roar of the crowd celebrated a Clippers bucket… while I accepted my fate with a tired, amused sigh.

“Huh… Dammit.”

FIN

[dimp1ez]

"Real Analysis"

An Yujin x Reader/OC ft. Liz (Kim Jiwon) as supporting character

Word Count: 11.2K, smut.

A/N + Summary:

A silly and not-so-serious self-inserted POV fic drafted when IVE visited Los Angeles a while ago. Thank you so much @autumnyacorn and @dotoliwrites for beta reading and the thoughtful comments! I learned a lot from you two to improve my writing! >3

(Fanprose has one day of early access, see it here: Fanprose)

TW: (sweaty) Car Sex, POV fantasy, idol x fan, bias-cucking

Mid spring, I wander on the streets of Los Angeles to enjoy my long- awaited Spring break. The cloudy cool air brushes my face, Southern California is not always full of sunshine, sometimes the sky is also dim.

Hollywood is still crowded with tourists; I didn’t join their party because I’ve shown multiple family friends around the area to the point where I can basically memorize the orders of the names on the Wall of Fame.

L.A. isn’t always my place; I live in a city where many people would have no idea where it is until I say “It's a 20-minute drive from downtown L.A.” Right now, I am back here, to this place where I mostly visit to relax and to temporarily forget.

The winter quarter had been cruel, failing a class or not is not as important as getting this break ASAP. Fortunately, I am a dedicated DIVE (IVE fandom name) and blasting their songs can restore some of my lost energy – especially right after they released their second full album REVIVE+.

ODD is my favorite song amongst them despite it not being the title track. The lyrics are very poetic, beautifully written. The message of embracing imperfection motivated me out of the self-doubt swamp after failing the first exam of the quarter. “Not bad, this imperfect feeling… asymmetrical lines are beautiful.” I murmur to myself while staring at the asymmetric letter “F” on my Canvas portal.

It’d be nice if I could write a fiction using the lyrics as an anchor… Anyways.

I keep walking, letting the breeze caress my face and my body. My hair is a bit messy, swaying in the wind as I paid little to no attention throughout the quarter to take care of them. Surrounding me is this messy crowd, people from all over the country chit-chat as they blend in to be a part of the City of Angels. How I wish I can see my angels one day?

That day is way sooner than I ever could’ve thought.

-

My phone in the pocket buzzes, a two-line message from my best friend Henry.

“Yo bro, Bob and I are coming to pick you up in a bit! Send us ur address when ur ready.”

Both of them are dedicated DIVEs like myself, and as they now come back from their universities at the east coast during Spring Break, we decided to hang out in Korea Town here in L.A. All three of us had never seen IVE in person before, nor had any of us experienced a concert before. So, now it is a good chance to talk about the plan that takes the virginity of two “first-timers” on one occasion.

I’ll be standing at the Starbucks right next to that In-n-Out, see you in a bit.

-

A few minutes later, I see Bob’s car drifting towards me, Henry waving at me exaggeratedly with both of his arms at the passenger’s seat. I quickly hop on to the backseat before the car behind us even reacts with a honk. Well, that's downtown traffic for you.

“Yo! Long time no see! The last time we met was already…last time! Maybe it was last summer?” Henry greets me with his iconic, yapper-spirited energy.

“Ay I know right? How’s the photocard collection quest going for your hot “wife” Naoi Rei? You said you’re gonna get 100 of them by the next time we meet!” I roast Henry.

A lovesick grin grows on his face, “Ah… about that… almost there…How about you? I bet you’re still watching your I AM Liz fan-cam every day.”

“And that Baddie Yujin clip as well. Correction, it’s ‘Mommy Yujin’.” Bob adds on, hands still on the steering wheel.”

“Fuck you both,” I shoot back, laughing. “Dimplez ship is the best ship. I’m not horny like you two. Go back to drooling over your Gaeul ODD performance video, Bob.”

Bob smirks. “Hard to deny. Gaeul killed it. Even you said ODD was your favorite song from the album too, didn’t you?”

The banter flows easily as we drive toward Korea Town, palm trees swaying outside the windows. The cool breeze through the cracked window calms my nerves. Everything feels peaceful.

Until we turn the corner into the K-Town block.

The sidewalk is packed. We try our best to squeeze our car into a miniscule streetside parking spot before all three of us walked out of the car. What us three saw shocked us. In front of the Korean restaurant we normally hit up, there’re groups of people waiting outside. Many of them have cameras of different models; some pace back and forth impatiently, others stand in tight clusters, whispering and constantly checking their phones. The atmosphere feels… off.

“Yo, since when did it become another TikTok influencer’s place? I’ve never seen so many people waiting here.” My brain is full of question marks.

“I don’t know, maybe it just got viral or something,” Bob mutters.

“Fuck it… plan changed! They said two hours, we ain’t waiting that long…even though they got good banchan. Let’s just get some fried chicken instead.” Henry comes back from talking to the shop owner, face full of disappointment.

I sigh, starting to trudge back to our parked car across the street. I take a glance at the groups of people waiting outside of the restaurant. Someone has a stabilizer rig that looks like it costs more than the meal itself. All that for a 30-second Instagram Reels? When we walk past a young man in sunglasses, I overhear him on the phone, “They’re this popular even in L.A.??? No way I can make it… I drove two hours down the south!”

Who are “they”? Those TikTok vloggers and Instagram “GRWM” girls? And why are they popular in Los Angeles in the first place? I can’t recognize any of them. I think to myself. You see, this is one of the things I dislike about social media culture. One big name says a restaurant is good, everyone starts to hop on the bandwagon. Man, I really miss the old times when us three just drive by and have a quick, authentic Korean style lunch. They got really nice banchan and kimchi jjigae. They remind me of how we just regularly came to this place to hang out before we went to college in different cities last year.

Henry and Bob seemed to be upset as well, but there is always a Plan B, and Plan B today is to get some Korean style fried chicken at the next block – no lines at all. We decide to order to go as there is a park right near the restaurant area, and it’ll be a huge waste of the California sunshine so why not turn it into a picnic and eat outdoors?

It takes about ten minutes before the cashier waves at us for collection, so I walk back into the store from outside. “Thank you so much! By the way, do you know when that Korean restaurant down the street got popular? They said the line is two hours today!” I casually chat with the guy.

“Hm? I don’t know, maybe just a group of tourists today? I never knew you have to wait that long?” He seems confused as well while handing me our order.

“Well, then it’s God’s message for us to try some chicken today.” I give him a genuine smile before walking out towards Henry and Bob.

We settle our stuff on a wooden bench in the park; a few geese idle on the grass like they’re the owner of this place. Henry unties the plastic bag and takes out the paper box with our fried chicken — garlic gochujang as Henry likes it. Well, as a Korean himself, maybe he has the final say in deciding the order.

We immediately sink to the bench, pick up a few pairs of plastic gloves to start our feast.

“What do you think, Mr. Korean? Is it authentic?” Bob mutters with his mouth already stuffed with a big chunk of chicken, dipped in that sweet, spicy sauce.

“Mhm… it is decent, the gochujang tastes a bit like my mom’s cooking.” Henry responds after taking a bite.

“Your mom? Or your mommy Rei?” I of course cannot let go the chance to tease him; I smirk as Henry’s ear turns red once that name hits him.

“Damn… Surely I’d be more than happy to try out her cooking, just…no chance!”

“You’d like to taste HER, not her cooking.” Bob adds on with a devilish grin.

“You two horny asses, and you?” Henry points at me, pretending to be angry despite his smile that almost reaches his ears. “Bob, did you know that this man”, he turns to Bob, “Wrote a whole-ass 15 thousand words fanfiction about his ‘Mommy Yujin’? I bet your keyboard is already auto-correcting “Monday” into “Mommy” huh?”

It is now my turn to turn my face into a tomato. Well, I could argue it is because of the spice from the chicken, but all of us know that it is a blatant lie.

“It... it was just one fic! It was for... for the readers! And I used it as a metaphor for her ... leadership!” I defend myself, weakly.

“All caps. You were the one typing ‘she’s so damn hot, I even wanna call her mommy’ in Discord! Stop pretending you’re not down bad for this girl.” Henry adds on, I know I lost at the moment he mentioned the Discord group chat - where we had and still have a lot of  ‘honest confessions’. Well, you can’t blame me for that! Unlike Henry and Bob, I don’t have a girlfriend. So, it is quite natural that I need some ways to ease my loneliness, aren’t I?

Although it being the truth, tactical decline is the core of the banter. “I’m not down bad at all! Y’all know me well, my number one bias is Liz. I love her, purely, respectfully.” I claim.

“This guy is playing innocent now, too fake,” Bob sighs exaggeratedly while grabbing another piece of chicken from the box. “Liz fic when?”

“Never!” I almost shout immediately, “You know me, I... I just can’t even think about those scenes with her. I’d imagine wrapping her with a blanket and kissing her forehead instead.”

“Okay okay, whatever you say, pure hearted fanboy.” Bob exclaims.

“Hey guys, you know IVE is in L.A. now, right?” Henry suddenly asks.

“Oh yeah, I saw Yujin’s Story earlier today.” Bob responds casually.

“Wait, what the fuck? For real?” I almost choke on the chicken as I heard it, “but well, we ain’t gotta see them, there’re like ten million people around the metropolitan area.”

“Plus, they’re probably eating somewhere high-end, like a VIP room and tinted glass minivan type of stuff. They ain’t coming to Koreatown for food they can eat every day.” Henry says.

“If we ACTUALLY meet them, who’s gonna lose it all first?” I casually let the question slip: it’s gonna be another round of banter, but that’s why we love yapping with each other. “Henry is probably going to start reciting all the Rei verses out loud until he gets tackled by the bodyguards” Bob laughs blatantly.

“And you are going to lose your dignity, your sanity and all of your savings the moment you see Liz.” Henry fires at me.

“Hard to say I won’t, but losing my savings is foreseeable. You know the ticket sale for their concert opens next week right? Don’t blame me for not reminding you.”

“Wait really? I don’t even know they announced the date already?” Henry seems confused and excited at the same time.

“You’re a fake fan bro. Let me also set a reminder to get tickets,” Bob reaches his phone on the bench next to him, “Oh fuck! I forgot to wipe my hand! The sauce got all over my screen!” Bob screams while wiping the gochujang on his phone with a napkin.

“Hahahaha, you deserve it.” Henry laughs out loud.

-

Two whole boxes of chicken disappear amidst our chatter; I finish the last piece and chugged the rest of my Celsius before padding my full tummy.

“Hmm... what y’all doing later? Do I get a drive home?” I ask them. 

“Oh! We’re actually gonna head for my girlfriend’s place for a party. You said you're not interested in those before, right?” Bob lifts his gaze from his phone.

“Nah, count me out. For God's sake, please wear a condom, and don’t get her pregnant.” I shake my head.

“Not that type of party, don’t you worry.” He stands up, “well... it had been nice seeing you man, it had really been a while.” Following him is Henry, “Yeah, time flies! Anyway, y’all hit me up on the date when tickets go on sale! We should hop on a voice chat, definitely need a plan to secure our chances.”

“Will do! See you all around, I’ll just chill here for a bit.” I stand up too, waving at them as they walk towards the car.

Seeing them leave, I sit back down on the bench, plugging in my headphones to enjoy this moment of peace. I select my IVE playlist, watching the geese waddling around the grass. A few joggers or dog-walkers occasionally run by, and I give a polite nod to each of them. It’s a really rare chance I can just sit here under the SoCal sunshine and not have to worry about anything. What an afternoon!

Soon, I feel my eyelids getting so heavy. The last thing in my mind is Liz’s “Unreal” playing and me thinking, “it is not a bad idea to have a nap.”

The world turns black.

-

I don’t know how long had passed, maybe an hour? Damn, it was a really nice nap. I open my eyes, almost blinded by the sunlight. The park is strangely empty. The joggers had moved on, and the geese were silent near the pond. There is this faint metallic taste in my mouth and my lips are dry as hell. I feel strangely warm and relaxed: it had been so long since I’ve had the luxury to take a long nap, I’d as well just continue sleeping.

Wait.

Wait a second.

I feel like I almost fall unconscious again. But I see a group of people exiting the backdoor of that Korean restaurant we skipped earlier. Something feels…off. Why are they wearing such long coats? And with masks? And with sunglasses? I must be hallucinating right now. Do TikTok influencers have sasaengs these days? Look at those two bulk men in suits, I swear to God they’re bodyguards. Wait a second, is that....

She walks with her arms crossed, her chin tilting at that precise, elegant angle that suggests she wasn't just walking to a car; she is reclaiming a runway. It is a gait I’d analyzed in a hundred airport arrival clips—the "Wony-walk."

She is physically taller than the men in suits, her silhouette cutting through the hazy LA heat with a sharp, expensive precision. There is a glimmer of a silver heart-shaped pendant swinging against her chest, catching the sun like a strobe light.

It’s her. My brain didn't even need the confirmation of a face. That poised, that "above-the-rest-of-the-world" energy—it’s Jang Wonyoung. And if the "Center of the Center" is here, then the rest of my universe is standing right behind her.

My universer takes off her mask for some air, at that moment, my heart stops beating. Her gaze is shining so bright and clear like an energized puppy despite her minimal makeup, I’ll never  mistake her for anyone else.

The universe just put my angels 20 feet away from me, at a random park in Los Angeles. I rub my eyes, trying to open them wider. Confusion floods my brain like how my adrenaline does.

They shouldn’t be here... they should be in those high-end restaurants that have a reservation one year from now. Maybe some VIP lounges in Beverly Hills. Or maybe visiting some random venues of local sports teams as guests. The Los Angeles Clippers can be a nice idea. Any way they’d like, but definitely not in the back alley with dozens of paper boxes behind a Korean restaurant in downtown L.A. where even people like myself call it an affordable place.

I put my wrist between my lips and bite down hard. This is the standard protocol I have for myself to test if I’m dreaming. I hope the pain will be as brutal as possible, so I know I am not hallucinating when I say “I just saw IVE near a parking lot in downtown L.A.”

Instead, I feel the adrenaline spike and this very familiar feeling of fight and flight. This feeling that I’ve experienced countless times sitting in an exam, panicking and not knowing what to do. It almost cost me though. They’re walking closer and closer towards that parking lot nearby, where three black minivans parked parallel. My window is closing.

If I sit, I am a coward. I’m singlehandedly killing any potential fairytale stories before they even have a chance to start.

If I run, I’m a creep. And those big men in black suits are going to tackle my skinny body within a second without any effort. I’d be pushed away and it’d be the most embarrassing way possible to give my self-introduction to IVE.

I stand up and start walking.

One, two, three, four, five, six.

Gaeul, Yujin, Rei, Wonyoung, Liz, Leeseo.

They’re right there. They’re so close, yet so far away. My heart is hammering so frantically that I forget my chest exists. My cheeks and ears burn albeit someone just set a fire on my face. Well, they absolutely did.

I keep walking, picking up my pace just slightly so I don’t look suspicious.

Closer, I can smell the lingering floral scent of their perfume. Not just expensive, but overwhelmingly distant.

Even closer, and it is at the point where some actions are necessary, otherwise I’d walk right into them. A manager-like man in a polo shirt, with a transparent earpiece puts himself in the middle of the walkway. Right between me and my dreams come true.

“Excuse me, no stopping. Private time here, please keep walking.” He says, with a slight accent and a professional, emotionless tone. His palm sticks out facing me like a “Stop” sign.

I freeze, and the hesitation was nearly lethal. He quickly turns and nods at the man in suits, mouthing something in another language.

The members keep walking, don’t even bother looking in my direction like similar shenanigans had happened countless number of times. Well, I can understand that certainly. But I’m not a stalker! I... I need to prove it to him before I get swept away!

“No, please!!!” I raise my pitch just a little bit, hoping I won’t scare away the girls. “I... I am a DIVE! I’m NOT a sasaeng!  I... I live right here... and I was just walking by! I... I have this...” My expression stutters thanks to the extreme nervousness.

But I need to persuade him. I can see his tense facial expression just eases by a bit. And I have a lifeline.

I reach for my pocket with my violently trembling hand. The thing I’m looking for is on my phone. To be exact, it is between my phone and my phone case.

Clack…

The crisp sound breaks the pressurized silence as my plastic phone case drops on the concrete walkway. I don’t bother to pick it up at all. Instead, I carefully show the managers these two photo cards I’ve been putting in my phone case throughout the journey of being a DIVE.

First one, ATTITUDE era Liz. Blonde hair, lethal dimple on her left cheek. That warm smile itself is enough for me to squirm in my blanket burrito with a big smile every time I see it.

The second one, BADDIE era Yujin. The sharp outfit. The charisma that made me start writing fics on Tumblr. The origin of how Henry roasted me for all that “Mommy Yujin” nonsense. The daring stare like she can see through all my filthy fantasies at night.

“I... I have this... PLEASE! I’m an actual fan.” I hold the two photo cards like some sort of passing badge, hoping to move the manager.

But he doesn’t say anything, and he doesn’t move at all. I start to get anxious as half of the group is already at the parking lot.

“잠깐만요, (Wait a second) Manager-nim~” Two girls at the back slow down, before stopping and looking at my direction. I can immediately tell the one who just spoke was Yujin. She approaches the manager and whispers in his ear. “Aigoo, he’s just a fan! Look at him, he’s literally shaking right now. How can he do any harm?” Yujin giggles while peeking at the photo cards.

Well, don’t ask me why she just spoke English to her manager. It was NOT! It was Korean for sure. But a huge thank you to Duolingo, I was able to understand the most important conversation I’ve ever overheard in my life! (Author’s note, this message is not approved or endorsed by Duolingo).

They then kept whispering something that’s beyond one year worth of Duolingo learning, while I was left there, teeth clenching nervously.

I try to distract my attention. Hmm... who is that girl next to Yujin? It’s either Liz or Rei based on the relative height with Yujin. I hope she’s Liz... but I’d be such a fake Liz fanboy because I can’t even tell if that’s her.

“Listen, do you want a signature?” The manager finally turns back at me, after sighing like “are we really doing this”?

I don’t care. My soul is almost escaping my body. “YESSSSS! Please! Please!”

He waves at me as a signal to keep walking, so I do. But he’s still serving like a shield, completely blocking me with the girls. “Look, you are alone. No cameras. It is good. But if we stay here? People see and they gather. We don’t want that.” I immediately understood. The group of the people I saw outside of the restaurants? There were no TikTok influencers. There were no Instagram model girls. They were all here, camping IVE…

He clears his throat while I nod obediently. “I know you’re going to tell you friends, and everyone is coming here in minutes. So, walk with us, get in the car, get your signature. We drop you off somewhere mid-way and we both are happy, understand?”

“Y.... yes sir! Thank you so much!” I bow immediately, just for him to nod and he knowingly falls behind. Allowing me to walk parallel to the two girls.

“Hi~” Yujin smiles politely, fan service mode activated.

“Hi~ how are you?” The girl next to her takes off her mask.

It is a miracle that I didn’t just faint right at the moment. It is Liz. Kim Jiwon. Elizabeth Helga Muller, her German name, as you wish.

“OH MY GODDDD! Liz!” I scream out loud, only for the manager to give me a deadly stare like “keep it low or get out of here.” I instantly cover my mouth and apologize. “Sorry, sorry. I got too excited... I’m really a Liz fan.”

“Oh, really? Thank you.” Liz smiles, a bit timid.

“Can I see them?” Yujin asks, pointing at my photo cards.

“Definitely!” I hand them to her, while trying not to have any physical contact with her - I don’t wanna mess up this once in a lifetime opportunity by getting falsely assumed as a creep!

“Me and Jiwon, hehe” Yujin giggles proudly. “You are lucky today, no?”

“More than lucky, Yujin-ssi.”

“Aw~ what a polite fan boy, you can call me Yujin. What’s your name?” She seems a bit amused, which is definitely a green light for me.

“Ah! You can call me dimp...I mean, Mercy. m-e-r-c-y.” I almost slipped something that’s supposed to be top secret. Fortunately, I reacted quickly.

My heart has no sign to slow down, so I start to take some deep breaths. They notice. “Are you nervous?” Liz asks. “You don’t have to be so tense, fanboy. We don’t bite!” Yujin adds on.

Well, but to be fair, how can I NOT feel nervous at this moment? Walking next to me are literally the two women in the world that bring me the most joy. One with her dimple and a voice that’s clearer than my future. The other one with her...... charisma and....... leader spirit. I’m nowhere close to being ready!

“I....I try.” I manage to squeeze out two broken words.

“Hey buddy.” The manager taps my shoulder from behind as we’re close to the only minivan that’s still parking in the lot - well it seems like the rest of the members are already gone.

“Yes sir, what shall I do?” I try to be as cooperative as possible.

“This is the plan, ok?” He stops at the trunk, finds a sharpie from one of the bags. “You seem like a good person.”

“Yes sir, I am a good person. What do I need to do?” Man! Just give me the rest of the script! At this point I’m willing to do anything for their signature.

“You see, THAT group of people with cameras,” he stops, “We don’t want them to know where we are. So here is what’s going to happen. You unlock your phone, give it to me, so you don’t take photos or record. Everything is private, I will check your photo booth whether you stalked or filmed us.”

“My... my phone? Absolutely sir, I’ll give you my phone.” Yes! He’s taking my phone! I’ve never felt so happy before when someone takes my phone. Now he has my personal items, he can’t kick me away!

He quickly peeks at my photo booth to make sure I’m indeed not a sasaeng. He starts talking again, “Good. You give your photo cards to Yujinnie and Jiwon, they sign. Get in the car, we will drop you off somewhere mid-way so you don’t spoil our location.”

“Wait, what??? I’m getting in the car?” My brain refuses to believe the offer I just received - car ride with IVE. “Me? Really?”

“Yeah, you~” Liz walks past me, before getting on the back row of the minivan.

“Or you can take your phone back and walk away.” The manager says.

“No sir, you keep my phone.” I hop on the passenger’s seat at the front, try to be very gentle and give Yujin and Liz their personal space. I’m carpooling with IVE! That alone is already a miracle.

The door slides shut. The cool air conditioning and the smell of the leather seats separate me from the heat outside.

-

For the first minute, I sit with a tense posture: back straight, hands on my laps, palm sweating. I try to peek in the rearview mirror; Liz is on her phone with her hat back on and Yujin sits at the very back row next to the manager and I have no idea what they are whispering.

“Are you holding your breath? You look like a statue there.” Liz giggles.

“If I were you, I’d cherish the time and say something. Like, how did you end up becoming a fan?” Yujin adds on. I turn my head to my eight o’clock, and try my hardest not to look like I’m about to have a heart attack when I see Liz’s gentle smile.

“Liz-ssi, you.... you’ve always been my number one, do you know that? Every time when I’m stressed over those abstract proofs in Real Analysis, I’d watch your fancams over and over... and I’ll feel motivated again. Don’t get me wrong, I admire your vocals so much. It is cleaner than a glass of water...”

“Aw~ thank you so much for your kind words! Real Analysis, it sounds difficult... is it like a lie detector? To see if something is real or fake? Hehe” Liz giggles timidly and gently, her gaze flickers with sincerity.

“Eh... kind of, we analyze real stuff. It is very abstract, but you inspired me a lot when I had hard times nonetheless! I... I don’t know what else to say, Liz-ssi, it is my biggest honor in my life to get to tell you how much I liked you!”

I did it. I did the unthinkable in many fanboys’ sweet little dreams! I got to tell my favorite idol how much I appreciate her without being filthy! I showed her how dedicated and respectful a DIVE I am. I certainly just won the world.

“Ahem, Jiwon-ah, looks like you got a big fan here. How about me?” Yujin suddenly asks from the back, tone with a hint of mischief.

“I...I really like you too! Yujin-ssi.” For some reasons only I should know, I was NOT ready to answer this question so I stuttered.

“Really? You hesitated! Are you a fake fan?” Yujin keeps pushing, sounds a tiny bit frustrated but still playful.

“Leave this poor little boy alone, unnie.” Liz’s smile widens instead, her facial expression screaming “Not again” like she had seen Yujin battle for a bias title thousands of times.

“Then tell me what parts of me you like, fanboy?” Yujin reaches to the middle row, putting her face right next to Liz’s, her puppy eyes open wide and wink with anticipation.

“I... Ah...I... like your... hmm... power! And... leader spirit! Also, your... your confidence!” I defend myself, trying to convince Yujin that I’m not a fake fan but maybe only they can see how red I got when Yujin stared at me innocently like that.

“Aw, how cute! Leader Spirit and confidence.” Yujin intentionally emphasizes the two nouns like it is the password to something secret.

My heart skips a bit... please don’t be.

-

After a few more rounds of polite exchange of words, the manager (now driver) pulls over somewhere on the street. It looks familiar despite the tinted window.

“Yujinnie, Jiwonnie, do you want to get some In-N-Out? It is very famous in America!” The manager unbuckles his seatbelt, turning back towards Liz and Yujin and doesn’t even bother to look at me. More than reasonable, I don’t blame him. To him, I was just a piece of luggage they hadn't unloaded yet.

“Really! Let’s go!” Liz’s eyes flicker with sparkles.

“Not for me~ I’ve tried it many times when we toured in America last year!” Yujin says.

“Ok, then I’ll go with Jiwon. Yujinnie, you wanna wait in the car? We’ll be back soon.” The manager opens the door before Liz joins after him.

My hand automatically reaches for the seatbelt. My heart leaped. This was it. A walk with Liz. Just us (and the manager) under the California sun. "I’ll help! I can carry the—"

"No." The manager and Yujin almost say it at the exact same moment, the one single word cuts through my excitement like a cold snap. "If you truly care about her, you don't want to see 'Liz accompanied by mystery young man in L.A.' on Dispatch tomorrow morning, right?"

I froze, my hand halfway to the door handle. The implication hit me like a physical weight. Me? A mystery man? With Liz? My face didn't just turn red; it felt like it was radiating heat. The thought of being linked to her—even in a scandal—sent a shiver through my chest.

"Stop," the Manager sighed, glancing at me in the rearview mirror with a look of pure pity. "I know exactly what you’re thinking. No. Don't even go there."

I slumped back into the passenger seat, my ears ringing. "Right. Sorry. Safety first." For a twisted moment, I felt like I was almost a protagonist. Almost a “scandal”. Almost become the main character of a fanfic. Almost someone important enough to be "accompanied by Liz. The heat in my cheeks wasn't just embarrassment—it was a soaring pride. I felt like I was floating two inches off the leather, drifting in a golden California daydream where I actually mattered to her.

But a dream is always just a dream. You’ll wake up nonetheless.

“Good Boy~.” Yujin casually slips, her tone full of teasing.

I felt like I was being handed a death sentence wrapped in a compliment.

Some scenes that are not supposed to show up here start to automatically play inside my head. Fuck. I fucking forgot… My phone.  Please… Please don’t tell me she found them.

Yujin had my phone – it got handed to her naturally as the manager needs to drive. Maybe he told her to check my photo booth if I stalked them from the airport. But I have all of my Tumblr drafts as screenshots in my Pictures… All of those… stories.

Liz looked back at me, her expression softening into that sweet, concerned look. "Are you okay? You look like you're about to faint. Car sickness?”

"I’m 100% fine!" I squeaked, my pitch an octave too high. I gave her a thumbs-up that felt incredibly unconvincing. "Just... thirsty! Take your time!"

Beside me, I heard a muffled, frantic sound. I turned to see Yujin burying her face into a velvet travel cushion, her shoulders shaking with silent, hysterical laughter. She knew. She knew exactly how "screwed" I was, and she was enjoying every second of my internal collapse.

"Let’s go, Jiwon-ah," the Manager said, putting on his sunglasses.

"Bye-bye!” Liz waved, her silhouette flashing one last time before she stepped out into the bright Los Angeles afternoon with her mask back on.

The door hissed shut. THUD.

The lock clicked.

-

“So,” Yujin breaks the deadly silence. “Apparently, mister pure hearted fanboy… You write stories about me, very… analytically, hm?” It is over.

“I… I can explain it…” I want to turn around and defend myself, but I physically can’t.

“Can you?” I hear Yujin’s voice coming from the middle row, she had crawled from the back like a predator corning her prey. “You handed the unlocked phone to us yourself, and I was scrolling through those story drafts all the way.” Yujin’s words sound mysterious; danger is hiding beneath that seemingly emotionless tone.

“I… it… it was just fiction… I didn’t mean to… Sorry.” I give up, knowing I just dug my own grave. Maybe I get kicked out of the minivan after my confession, and Yujin’s gonna tell Liz all of those. I’m screwed… my character, everything… Liz is going to despise me and she’ll feel so disgusted!

“You told Jiwon she was your number one because she’s so pure… and so clear. You study mathematics and you love pure things, don’t you? You told her how a respectful and dedicated DIVE you are because of her, hm?” Yujin pads the seat where Liz was just sitting, “Come here, don’t make me say it twice.”

I hesitate for a fraction of a second, before squeezing my body through that tiny space. Maybe there is still hope, but I know for a fact that I am completely at Yujin’s mercy. The seat is still warm, Liz’s lingering vanilla-scented perfume is so healing – yet what’s next to me is like a blackhole, full of force and unknown.

I meet Yujin’s gaze. Her eyes are dark, unreadable, and terrifyingly vivid.

“It seems like you don’t write about her spirit, do you?” Yujin murmurs, finger hovering on her bottom lip. “Tell me, if Liz is your angel… Am I your… downfall?” she licks her lip now, her alluring eyes never leaving mine. “Or are you finally gonna admit that I AM the truth that you’ve been secretly hiding from her?”

My heart is not slowing down. I come to the realization that maybe I am still screwed, but it’d be the best bad news I can hear. “You’re not answering my question. And I’m getting impatient. If I am impatient, I do really messy stuff. You don’t want to get on the blacklist of Starship Entertainment, do you?” Yujin has no sign of stopping her fire, knowing she has the upper hand from the start.

“I… I’m sorry Yujin… Please don’t! I swear it is just some nonsense, I… I can delete them if you want. Just please don’t say it out loud! I’d do anything.” My cheeks must be radiating heat at this moment and I’m also already used to the frantic pounding of my chest.

Maybe it was my sincerity, it must be. My response is like it just triggered some keywords.

“You said, anything?” Yujin smirks with mischief.

“As long as I don’t get blacklisted…” I stutter.

“Get to the back row, now.”

“If… if you say so.” My nostril already misses Liz’s pure scent at the moment I lose contact with her seat. I carefully take a step over their designer purses on the pass-through before placing my tense body onto the back row as Yujin instructed.

Yujin follows, taking the right side of the three connected seats. She sits on her knees, looking way comfortable despite being in such a packed space. “So... I’m going to give you some chances to prove to me that you’re not a filthy, degenerate fan.” Yujin says.

“I’m definitely not! Do you want me to show you my Spotify Top 0.1% Fan Badge?” I reach out for my phone that’s still on her lap.

“Aw, cute little attempt. But I'll keep it for now.” She holds my phone hostage, slipping it under her weight.

“T... Then how do you want me to prove it? I can recite the lyrics for all of IVE’s title tracks?” I stutter.

“Come on, you write those little stories about me, but still pretending to be innocent. Huh?” Yujin’s playful grin suddenly disappears, what comes after is something rawer that I was never ready for.

She slips her finger into my shirt from the bottom, scratching my chest in the most agonizing way possible. As much as I don’t want to admit it, the bulge down below starts to get visibly larger.

“See? You’re being very honest with your body.” She’s barely audible, basically just blowing air into my already itching ears.

“Yujin-ssi, please don’t! We... we will be in trouble! And I’ll become filthy and degenerate if you keep doing this to me!” I accidentally confess in desperation.

“Hmm... it’s better if we have an open conversation instead, maybe?”

“Y...yes! Conversation! We’re not supposed to be doing this at all!”

“Ok.” Yujin says, but her hands say otherwise. She quickly yanks my shirt off in one go, my chest suddenly exposes to the air. Next, she takes off her black jacket and her white T-shirt as well, leaving only a plain, white bra.

“What... what the fuck?!” I shout in awe while trying to cover my eyes with my palms. I can’t look at that... I'm not supposed to!”

“That’s why I call it an open conversation. If you don’t like it, I can also take it off. Hm?” Yujin hovers her finger onto the strap of her bra, teeth biting down her lips. God. Pure seduction. Why is she doing this?

“Why are you doing this?” So I ask.

“Aw, I want to test you. Let’s play a game.” Yujin smiles while putting her palms on each of my shoulders.

She then pulls me dangerously close, forcing me to look directly into her predatory gaze.

“Since you do analysis all the time, tell me, who is your favorite member in IVE?” Yujin asks, hands cupping my face. My breath immediately hitches.

“I... it’s Liz, you already knew that.”

“Nope baby... wrong name.” She crashes her red lips against mine. My whole world collapses. Yujin captures my hesitation, kissing me even more aggressively. Her tongue invades through my trembling lips, forcing mine to swirl with hers. I take it all, secretly enjoying this gut-wrenching guilty pleasure. I just got a kiss from the character in my wildest fantasies - but it feels like a huge betrayal to Liz at the same time.

“First chance is wasted. You didn’t give me the answer I wanted to hear. We can keep playing this game until your pure little angel is back. Guess what she’ll have to say when she sees us like this? Sweaty and half naked in the back seat?” Yujin is seemingly enjoying everything, her tone bright and joyful.

“Now tell me again, if your favorite is Liz… then why are you this hard, hm?” Yujin grins, fingers brushing my itching length through the fabric of my pants.

“Be…because I am a straight man!” I give out my final attempt to brush it off, but seeing Yujin’s facial expression remains unchanged, I know I’ll just let her do her thing. “Plus… you’re very hot.” I add on.

“It is hot here indeed, fuck, I’m sweating.” Yujin hums, realizing the AC is little use under the SoCal sun in the afternoon. “We gotta do this quick, before both of us pass out from the heat.” I take a quick glance at her half naked body, sweats already dripping down her chin – her scent mixes with the faint perfume, more arousing than ever.

“We are gonna do what?” My logic fails; it can’t be? I am never properly prepared for a scene like this.

“Take off your pants, right now…You’re lucky today. I’m going to show you why I AM the leader of IVE, and you’d start regretting why you didn’t choose me as your bias from day one.” Yujin mumbles, while unzipping her short culottes. I take a big gulp uncontrollably when she reveals her full curve, a few drops of sweats clinging onto her frame and her plain cotton pantie is already damped. Maybe from the heat, maybe from the arousal… or probably both.

My hands freeze on my belt, not knowing what to do after witnessing Yujin just stripped before me despite my throbbing length already screaming for release. “Fuck, stop pretending for be so innocent.” Yujin gets a bit impatient; her hands automatically locate my belt. And click, she unbuckles it before yanking both of my jeans and boxers all the way down to my ankle.

My itching length springs free, a wet sound covers the quiet humming of the AC. A pathetic moan escapes from my throat as Yujin wraps her hand around my base. “Look at this, already so hard for me~.” She gives it a long, slow stroke before climbing up onto my lap. Her hard is warm, contrasting with the cool leather of her boots squeezing my leg.

“Fuck… Yujin, are you sure we’re doing this? I.... My favorite member in IVE is An Yujin! Are you happy now?” The final bit of sanity left in my brain knows it is wrong, we’re both fucked if Liz and the manager are back from In-N-Out and see their respected leader of group is stroking a filthy fanboy in the back of their car. Is this even real? Is this even possible? I am just a helpless fanboy that fell into Yujin’s charm and couldn’t escape. But why? Why would she even talk to me, let aside… having sex with me? It must be a dream, but her deadly scent is so real.

“Too fake.” She clicked her tongue. One smooth motion and her fingers were at my belt. “You still call me by my stage name like a polite little fanboy. I want the real one. The one you type at 3 a.m. when you think no one’s watching.”

Yujin stares directly into the deepest of my soul, she unhooks her bra with her free hand. The strap slides down her shoulders and the fabric slowly falls off her gorgeous body. Her full breasts bounces up and down right inches away from eyes, she turns to throw the bra away.

“Now your Mommy Yujin is right here, do what you need, helpless little fanboy.” She quotes directly from the deepest secrets that I’ve been hiding, and that’s exactly enough to destroy any defense I have left. My hips jerked involuntarily and I groaned, the sound way too loud for a tinted minivan in broad daylight.

“Fuck…” The thrill of getting caught at any time mixes with her sweated scent are like a drug that just gets me addicted. I follow my instinct, carefully take in one of her juicy tits in between my lips and suck lightly. She tastes alluring. Her perfume alone is enough to drive me crazy, not to mention the faint salty, sweaty taste just mercilessly assaults my nostril.

“Mmph….” I try to say something, but my mouth is too busy savoring Yujin’s perfect tit. I never in my life had thought this would happen, yet the sensory had defeated the sanity. I manage to not faint from the overwhelming lust despite Yujin hasn’t started anything. I take a look at her soft hand grabbing my length, then keep my eyes shut again. Well, if I mute one of my senses, the rest becomes more sensitive, no?

“Look at me.” Yujin commands, she reaches close, hair brushing my cheeks. I oblige; she then opens her mouth and lets a string of her saliva fall onto the tip of my shaft. My body bucks as the slick, cool liquid meets with my overheated skin. Her eyes never leave mine. Deadly. Alluring. I can’t contain my desire anymore.

I reach out for her face, pulling Yujin close before kissing her juicy lips. This time it is much more intense compared to the first. My movements are desperate and hungry, and I can tell she likes it. She responds with equally thirsty kisses, the wet, obscene sound echoing in the warm minivan.

“Good… You finally stopped your little lie. I almost believed you’re such a dedicated and pure DIVE until I saw those filthy stories.” Yujin lets go of my lips, “It’d be your loss if you never tried me…bet you’ll feel different after this. Liz can still be your sweet angel with a crystal-clear voice, but you won’t ever forget who makes you this desperate.”

“Fuck…please, Yujin… Please don’t bring Liz into this.” Yujin’s words bring back that gut-wrenching guilt. For a second, I just hate myself so much for not having the self-discipline to resist Yujin’s force and it’s a pure betrayal to Liz.

“Uh-oh, look at who is triggered. But weren’t YOU the one who wrote ‘I am mommy An Yujin’s Puppy, please use me as you like’? Bet you got hard just by thinking about it when you hid under your blanket writing it, huh?” She amplifies the filth, quoting directly from one of my drafts. My head is a mess made of embarrassment and the painful pleasure from Yujin’s hand that never stopped stroking me.

“Am I meeting your expectations, or do you want more of me? The energy? How about the leader's spirit? Hmm?”  

“What even is the point of all this?”

“To prove you wrong, fanboy. It makes me sick listening to all those beautiful lies but I know for a fact your body thinks otherwise. Just admit it, or we can stop here and wait ‘til your Jiwonnie comes back and sees it herself. Hmm? Last chance~”

“You really care about it that badly?” I hover my hands onto Yujin’s sweat-covered waist in awe. “Fine, if you really want to see me being filthy… I’d let you.” I know it is time to let go of my rational thoughts and just follow my instinct. And my instinct tells me to grab her bouncy ass and feel it with my palms. “I’ll make sure this pair of sexy legs keep shaking for hours.” The final doubt inside of my head is gone as I feel the smooth texture of her body on my hands. I’ve never felt anything like this before. The velvety smooth skin, the warmth, the sweat. They just feel so vivid… and so Yujin. 

“Exactly the energy I want... Now touch me… show me how much you’ve been starving for this body.” Yujin’s tone is still commanding, but with a hint of arousal.

“Fuck… do you know how crazy you drove me with this body, Yujin?” I confess, mumbling because I am busy eating her tit at the same time. I draw little circles around her nipple, just to feel how heavenly she tastes with that faint scent of her body wash and the lingering sweat. Meanwhile, I don’t forget the work down below her butt. My hands start roaming free, staring from her waist, lingering on her cheeks before groping her insanely sexy thighs.

Yujin lets out several hums each time the tip of my tongue meets her nipple, her face is blushed from the increasing temperature and her own arousal. I lick and suck her other tit with equal desire – the desire that I’ve been hiding from everyone, that had made my head spin in countless midnight hours.

She doesn’t respond to my question. The minivan’s tinted windows trapped the heat like a greenhouse. Sweat beaded along Yujin’s collarbones, catching the faint dashboard glow and sliding down the valley between her breasts in slow, glistening trails.

Suddenly, a loud, door slamming sound from a nearby car drags me out of this dreamy picture. My heart sinks. We’re in the public; Liz and the managers are still coming back at any time. Yujin catches the sudden halt of my motion and I am certain that she can see through what I’m thinking. She dismounts from me, crawling to the driver’s seat only in her damped pantie.

Beep.

She locks the door from inside before turning off the engine. The AC is still on but it feels like nothing under the California sun. Yujin crawls towards me sitting there in the back row, slowly, like she is catwalking on a run way. Her hips roll and sways, each step makes her seducing frame even more alluring.

After like a year has passed, she finally gets back on my lap. Yujin grabs my leaking length once again and gives it a lazy stroke. Her fingers drawing lazy, tormenting circles on my sensitive head. “Mmph… fuck…” I groan, taking a deep breath so I don’t just come before even getting a chance to feel her. To really feel her.

She hooks her thumbs into the waistband of her pantie and peels it down her thighs in one fluid motion, kicking it aside. The scent of her—sweet, musky, unmistakably aroused—hits me like a drug. Her pussy was glistening, puffy and pink, lips already parted and shiny. She wrapped her hand around my cock again, guiding the head right against her entrance.

“W… wait!” I stutter.

“Aw… Don’t tell me you’re gonna chicken out at the last second.” Yujin purrs, her gaze is now nothing but pure desire. I don’t dare to keep staring at her anymore before I completely lose it and start screaming “Mommy Yujin”.

“We… we don’t have a condom!” I almost yell. Being caught walking with Liz? It is nothing compared to making Yujin a mother. There is zero probability that I can survive the fans if it ever happens, so, safety first.

“Screw it, we’re constantly on the pill anyways. Is that it? Can I properly fuck you now?”

“Y…”

I don’t get to finish. Yujin doesn’t wait for the rest. She drops the rest of the way in one smooth, greedy motion, taking every inch until her ass flushes against my thighs. A broken moan escapes her throat, and the sound goes straight into the deepest of my soul.

“Fuck, you’re bigger than I thought,” she breathes, already rolling her hips in tiny circles, grinding her clit against my pelvis. “Feels good, doesn’t it? Better than jerking off to my fancams in your dorm room?”

I cannot answer. My hands autopilots to her waist, gripping hard enough to leave marks. She starts riding me relentlessly then—slow at first, savoring it, then faster, the wet slap of skin on skin filling the van. The leather seat creaks under us. The AC still humming uselessly against the heat we were generating. Yujin bounces on my laps in near frantic motion. Each time she releases me from her slickness, the next second I’m being greeted by her warmth. Yujin is incredibly tight, and it makes me speechless. I’m nowhere close to being in charge as I helplessly watch how much Yujin owns the moment. Her bangs are damp from the sweat; her elegant fingers push the wet strand of hair behind her ears.

I dive back into her flawless body and continue to worship her tits before I lose myself in her alluring gaze. Her nipples are swollen, I plant careful kisses here and there, leaving wet marks on her frame. Her frame that owned my wildest dreams at those lonely nights.

“Mmph...” Yujin moans softly, “You’re doing good, maybe your mouth can do more than just lying.”

“Fuck… I never lied!” I thrust up into her in embarrassment, our sweat damps the leather seat – the squeaking sound echoes obscenely in the car. “Then show me, show me you are capable of making me come… like how it is in those dirty little stories you wrote about me.”

Her encouraging tone is exactly what I need to turn me on even more. I grab her waist with both of my hands, pushing her away from my laps onto the seat before I reposition myself before her. Yujin’s long legs immediately wrap around my chest; her leather boots are still on. The stiff texture contrasts with her smooth skin, and they just add an extra layer of stimulation on my sweating body.

I start pounding into Yujin in a relentless fashion as the desire I’ve been trying to hide is inevitably flooding through my body. I grab her thighs, lifting her legs and rest them onto my shoulder. Yujin rubs her clit with one hand, letting out several cracked moans, while the other hand grabs her own tits. Her eyes are half closed, getting lost in the sensation.

The minivan shakes, matching our fanatic rhythm. The tinted windows already fogged up from the heating atmosphere, I never stop my thrusting. My nails dig deep into her skin like I’m trying to hang onto something before my downfall. “Hmm? Yujin-ssi? Is this what you want? Getting wet because a fanboy is filling you up?” I tease.

“Mmph, just like that… harder… When are you gonna admit that I am better than Liz? Only this is not enough…” She mutters.

I thrust once more, to the absolute deepest I can and I just hold it still. “Don’t say her name!” I squeeze out a cracked groan.

“Liz this… Liz that, but look at who is so hard inside me right now… Hmm?” Yujin keeps taunting me like she is daring me to go harder. Yet, she pushes me away, I whine from the loss of the friction.

Yujin stands up and paces slowly to the middle row, where Liz was sitting. She gets her hands onto the seat, while arching her body and stretches her perfect ass out. I immediately follow her, hands located onto her soft waist try to enter her again. But instead, Yujin grabs my shaft, heads turn back toward me, eyes full of nothing but seduction.

“Bet your mouth is already watering just by thinking how tight this ass would be, huh?” Yujin teases, rubbing my fully hard length up and down along the entrance of her but never letting me in.

“Fuck… please let me in already.” I don’t stand a chance when there is a perfect body like Yujin’s in front of me.

“Does your precious little angel ever make you beg like this? I guess not, huh?”

“N…No”, I take a big sniff, but unfortunately, Liz’s pure, vanilla-flavored scent gets replaced gradually by Yujin’s addicting mixture of her sweat and her floral perfume. I whine again, but this time from pure hunger. “Please… I want you so bad…” My voice muffles.

“Good Boy, I love it when you are honest.” She finally puts me back into that warm and wet pussy that I’ve been craving for. I continue to fuck her from behind; my hand just can’t stop itself from slapping Yujin’s bouncy butt.

“Mmph~~~” She moans exaggeratedly, like an acknowledgment of how her body makes me lose control. “How does it feel? Becoming the protagonist of those stories you wrote?”

“Fuck… It feels amazing, you’re so fucking tight.” I admit in both guilt and shame.

“Good. Then give me all of it, do better than that nerd you built.”

“I…I’ll try, I am not sure if I can last long… mmph.” I slow down my pounding by a notch, otherwise I’d soon give in and unload myself into Yujin.

“You better do, you know the consequence of disappointing me, right~” I can’t see her face, but her words are enough to let me pick up my pace again. I bite my bottom lip as hard as possible to endure the building pleasure, but surprisingly I don’t feel any pain. It must be the dopamine flooding rent-free in my system, that my sense of pain is already overwhelmed.

I try to alternate my rhythm between slower, deeper strokes and shallower, quicker thrusts. Yujin is clearly also enjoying herself as I feel her walls clenching against me each time I enter, trying to drain me in a timely manner.

“Fuck… just like that, you are gonna make me come!” I can feel Yujin’s pussy clenching tighter and tigher on me; I keep slamming into her as she gradually gives in to the pleasure. It only takes one extra deep thrust before she hits her climax. Yujin’s body locks up, fingers digging into the seat while her walls flutter and spasm, almost making me come on the spot. I slow down, and keep thrusting through her orgasm.

Yujin takes a few deep breaths until she releases my throbbing shaft from her pussy. Her juice immediately drips out from the point of contact, my itching dick is swollen, coated by her essence entirely. She turns around, quickly pushes me down onto the seat before guiding me back into her again. I bury my face into her chest, greedily sniff her aroused scent.

“You made me come… not bad. So, you get what you deserve, fanboy.” She smirks.

And we both know it won’t take long for me to release into her. She keeps riding me – each time she rolls her hips so my shaft is getting sealed by her wetness from all angles. Sweat pours off both of us, mixing between our bodies, the air thick and heavy with the scent of sex and her perfume and pure desperation.

“Now… come for me~” Yujin orders, and that’s all I need.

After she slams back down on me one last time, I grab her waist firmly as I cross the line of no return. I come. Hard. Ropes of thick juices of mine flooding her walls while I keep kissing her tits messily. Yujin moans loud enough like she’s screaming. She keeps grinding down through my orgasm like she is chasing a second of her own, her walls fluttering and squeezing every last drop out of me.

But she doesn’t just stop there. Even as I am still pulsing inside her, she keeps riding. The overstimulation hits like lightning—pleasure so sharp that I can’t distinguish if it is pain. My thighs tremble violently, every nerve in my body is screaming.

I am gasping, chest heaving, sweat pouring into my eyes. My shaft keeps throbbing, raw and oversensitive. The minivan felt like a sauna now, windows completely fogged, the leather beneath us soaked with sweat and cum and her arousal. My balls ached, my thighs burned, but the pleasure kept building again, impossibly, another orgasm already coiling tight in my gut.

“Again,” she demands, wrecked but still commanding. She leans down, biting my lower lip hard enough to sting. “Fill me until it’s dripping out of me when Liz gets back.”

The mention of Liz—sweet, pure Liz—should have killed the mood. Instead, it twists something dark and guilty and unbearably hot in my chest. I buck up into Yujin with a broken sob, chasing that second release like I’m wicked. She meets every thrust, riding me harder, faster, her tits bouncing, hair wild, eyes locking on mine like how she shows up in every filthy thought I’d ever had. Within another minute, I come again. This time it doesn’t last as long, but the pleasure is equally high.

Yujin lifts herself up from my wrecked length, the obscene picture of my own essence mixed with her juice dripping out of her pussy almost makes me faint on the spot. She sits down next to me; fingers spooning a scoop of the cream and puts right into her mouth.

“Hmm… tastes good…” Yujin grins.

“Yujin… fuck… You’re unreal.” My breath has yet to recover from the overwhelming two orgasms in a row. I lie down on her lap while she caresses my hair in soft strokes. “I…I’m so drained, just give me like one minute. I need to catch my breath before we clean this mess.”

“Aw~ don’t worry, take as long as you need.” Yujin’s voice is like honey.

I feel the danger of getting caught by the manager and Liz approaching. But hey, how am I supposed to clean up when my balls just got drained by Yujin? As much as I want to get back on my feet and start wiping down the mess everywhere, my eyes are getting really heavy.

“My cute little fan boy~ have you changed your mind yet? Who is your favorite IVE member now?” Yujin teases me, fingers scratching my neck gently.

The dial turns. It wasn't a question, but rather a demand for total submission.

I gaze up at Yujin’s gorgeous face. It took me years to realize what I really wanted. I had committed a thoughtcrime for years, pretending to be pure-hearted and innocent. But I inevitably succumbed to my lust.

All those pitiful little lies I told myself! All those stubborn denials of my true desire! Two salt-scented tears trickle down the sides of my nose.

But it is alright. Everything is alright. The struggle is finished. I had won the victory over myself. 

“I love An Yujin.”

My eyes give up resisting the weight anymore.

“Hey… hey!” Yujin pushes my shoulders, “At least put your pants back on!”

I don’t care anymore. The oxytocin is real. Unconsciousness soon claims me.

The world doesn’t go out with a bang; it ends with the scent of Yujin and the crushing weight of a memory too heavy for my waking self to hold. My vision blurs, the tint of the van’s windows stretching into an infinite, velvety black—and then, the hum of the AC is replaced by the dry rustle of wind.

-

I open my eyes again, and I find myself sitting on the bench in the park where I spotted IVE an hour or two ago. The sun had drifted to the west, dimmer orange light hover above the park.

“Where I spotted IVE…”

I panic, my lips are dry and my eyes heavy. I quickly stand up and sprint to the parking lot, no minivans are there. NO! It must be that the manager dropped me off where he picked me up, and I fell asleep again on the bench because I was so exhausted from the sex! It makes sense that I don’t remember WHEN I got dropped off and HOW I said goodbye to Liz and Yujin.

I… I need proof of this. So, I reach out to my pocket. 

My phone is there; it must get handed back to me when they dropped me off! I know it! 

I need to see the signature…. I need to see that sharpie ink. 

I impatiently rip off the phone case and let it drop to the grass, where two sleeved photo cards of Yujin and Liz are still quietly sitting there. Back facing me.

I close my eyes and pray… Please don’t let it be a dream. But when I open them again, the photocards are gone as a breeze blows through me. The grass flutters, the geese idling in the lake fly up and I am left shaking in the wind. The two cards swirl in the wind, entering an entangled state like my memory.

The faces of my purest angel and my desired downfall start to blend, the colors of their hair and the light in their eyes mixing together into a frantic, spinning blur. Akin to the mess in my brain: there is one line of pure admiration, for the boy who smiles stupidly hearing Liz’s vocal; and the other line of unsatisfiable desires, for the boy who simps Yujin under the blanket in those lonely midnights.

They ran perfectly parallel in my head, one line never touching the other. Until today, when the boundary is starting to become a twisting manifold in front of my own eyes.

The photocards finally cease their frantic spinning in the spring SoCal air, drifting down like misplaced autumn leaves. They settle quietly upon the grass, just two feet away—a distance that felt like a light-year. I laugh; not a sound of triumph, but a soft, hollow exhale of relief. 

Maybe. Just maybe.

I realize in this heartbeat that I don’t have to know.

The wave function doesn’t need to collapse. 

I don’t have to see if the ink was still there. 

If I look and see the bold strokes of her pen, I’d spend the rest of my life doubting my own sanity, haunting by a miracle I could never explain. 

If I look and see only a blank, pristine surface, I’d be forced to mourn a ghost until the day I’m gone.

They are the definition and the projection of perfection and beauty onto my lonely little world. But for forty minutes, they were vivid. Liz’s dimple was a hymn I could finally hear, and Yujin’s touch was a fire I could finally feel—within my reach, yet forever beyond my grasp. 

They’re like smoke in a mirror: always visible, but always far away. 

Maybe it is destined? But we’ll never meet under the daylight.

I look up into the sky, squinting against the relentless gold of the California dusk, and one thing remains certain. 

We shared the same horizon. 

We breathed the same heavy, salt-tinged air of Los Angeles. 

We are both on the way for what we love. 

We both exist, beating hearts on this same spinning planet.

Doesn’t THAT make us real?

Perhaps.

Asymmetrical lines can be beautiful, but parallel lines will never intersect….

[autumnyacorn]

doubt_protocol.exe (v 3.11.2569)

BLACKHOLE: Path of Doubt

Male Reader x IVE's Ahn Yujin

~8.6k words

Delusion / Silence / Control / Chaos / Doubt / Youth

A/N: The final path into the Blackhole. Thank you for being on this journey. I hope you enjoyed all 6 paths into the Blackhole.

pleasure_protocol.exe (v.1.0.0)

It is the year 2569.

They used to joke that technology would solve everything. That by now we’d be living in some glittering utopia of flying cars and endless leisure. Instead, the world is still the same tired mess it has always been — just with better graphics.

Pride. Greed. Lust. Envy. Gluttony. Wrath. Sloth.

Humanity’s greatest hits, remastered in 8K.

At least sloth is easier to indulge in these days.

Rain hammers the corrugated roof of the bar like impatient fingers. The air is thick with the smell of over synthetic liquor, mouldy concrete, and the sour tang of spilled drinks. You sit hunched on a cracked stool, the fifth glass sweating between your callused fingers. The liquor has softened the edges of the world, but not enough.

It's never enough.

Your cheap wrist device blinks at 17% battery. The connection signal is weak. Perfect. That means minimal disruptions. You don't want to polish anything tonight. Polished means expectations. Expectations means more polishing. Another endless cycle.

Just like the rest of your fucking life.

With a disoriented thumb you tap the public simulation node. You're on the free tier with no account required, and it’s the kind of place that resets every hour, cleansing everything inside that smells of morbidity and desperation. Easy in, easy out.

You reach your wrist device forward and connect to the login prompt.

Authorised.

Light flashes in your eyes and swallows you whole.

The transition is cheap and ugly (reflective of the free price): a lurch behind your eyes, a static hiss in your ears. Then the world resolves.

Soft violet lighting. A low, pulsing bass line that feels more like a heartbeat than music. The simulation lounge is crowded with avatars, some glossy and expensive, others glitchy and half-rendered. Your own avatar is of course the bare-minimal default of plain black shirt, jeans, and your own unaltered face you never bothered to customize. You look exactly like what you are.

An exhausted man trying to disappear.

You drift towards the long obsidian bar, order something, and simply exist. Drinking here doesn't feel the same as drinking outside. But a drink is a drink.

That is when she notices you.

She has been working in the room for three simulated hours already. Her avatar is exquisite in its restraint: long dark hair that catches the violet strobes like spilled gleams, a simple silk slip the color of crimson that clings without screaming for attention. Her face is delicate but not doll-like — sharp cheekbones, full lips, eyes that seem to hold too much quiet despite being part of a companion program. You watch her turn down three wealthier clients tonight.

Perhaps it is something about the way you sit — shoulders curved inward, gaze unfocused — that she slides onto the stool beside you without asking.

“Rough night?”

Her voice is low, a little husky, but it's the kind that doesn’t need to raise itself to be heard.

You glance sideways with a tired half-smile that tugs at your mouth.

“That obvious?”

“Only to someone who’s seen the look before.” She tilts her head, studying you. “You’re not here for the usual show, are you?”

You let out a soft breath that might have been a laugh. “No. Just… to forget. For a while.”

Her smile is small and gentle. “Then you came to the right place. Forgetting is my specialty.”

You talk. Awkward at first with halting sentences and long silences, but honest in a way that surprises you both. You tell her your name is Jae, that the rain outside your real window matches the one in here, that you drink because the silence in your apartment is louder than the noise in your head. She listens without performing sympathy, only nodding, occasionally teasing you lightly when your words grow too heavy.

“You sound like a man who’s been carrying the same stone for years,” she says, tracing an idle pattern on the bar with one fingertip. “Ever try setting it down?”

“Not tonight,” you answer.

Then quieter. “Maybe not ever.”

She doesn’t push. Instead she lets the silence settle again, comfortable this time.

After a while she leans closer, close enough that you can smell the faint synthetic jasmine on her skin. It's warm, it's expensive, and it's designed to linger in your synthetic nostrils.

“Would you like to forget with me?” she asks simply. No coy wink, no scripted seduction. Just the question, offered like an open hand.

You look at her for a long moment. Something in your chest unclenches.

“Yeah,” you say. “I would.”

The private room she leads you to is small and intimate. Low lighting the color of unripe peaches, a wide bed dressed in black sheets that look soft enough to drown in. No mirrors, no unnecessary details. Just the bed and two of you.

She closes the door with a soft click and turns to you with a slow, sultry smile that makes heat coil low and heavy in your stomach.

You don’t rush.

But she pushes.

She steps close and kisses you first, pressing her lips deep, hungry and unhurried onto yours, her tongue sliding against yours like warm silk. She tastes of cherries and something darker. When she pulls back just enough to speak, her voice is a husky murmur against your lips.

“Let me take care of you tonight… I’m going to make you forget everything, other than me.”

Her hands move with expert confidence, peeling your clothes away while her mouth pepper hot, open kisses down your throat. She finds every sensitive spot with frightening accuracy, licking, sucking and grazing just hard enough to make you hiss. When she reaches your chest, she circles one nipple with her tongue before sucking it into her mouth, humming softly at the way your back arches.

“Mm… so responsive already,” she whispers with seductive approval. “I like that. Let me hear more of those sounds.”

She guides your hand between her thighs, feeling her already slick and scorching heat. Covering your fingers with her own, she shows you exactly how she wants it. Slow circles over her swollen clit, then two fingers sliding deep. She rides your hand with languid rolls of her hips, inner walls fluttering and clenching greedily around you.

“Just like that… fuck, your fingers feel so good… spreading me… stretching me…,” she breathes, eyes half-lidded with pleasure. “Deeper… yes… keep going.”

You dig deeper and curve your two fingers towards you in alternate frequencies, coaxing the wet juices and moans out of her. Then you scissor your fingers, spreading her folds wide before thrusting in deep.

“Oh gosh… I can't take it anymore… I need you inside of me…”

When she finally straddles you, she wraps one hand around your aching cock and strokes you with slow, twisting pulls while rubbing the swollen head teasingly along her dripping folds, coating you in her wetness.

“Feel how wet I am for you?” she coos. “You’re going to slide in so deep… I can’t wait to ride this cock.”

She sinks down inch by inch, enveloping you in a slow slide with her tight, velvet heat. It makes your toes curl and your breath catch. Once you’re buried to the hilt she pauses for only a heartbeat, letting you feel her pulse around you.

Then she begins to move.

The intensity builds fast.

At first her hips roll in deep, powerful waves. They're sensual, controlled and devastating, each snap and roll dragging you along every sensitive inch inside her, walls clenching rhythmically like she’s milking pleasure from your very soul. But the hunger in her eyes grows darker.

She plants her hands firmly on your chest and leans forward, shifting into something far more primal.

She starts bouncing.

Smooth, controlled lifts and drops that rise until only the head of your cock remains inside her, then slamming back down, taking every thick inch in one greedy stroke. Her small breasts bounce and jiggles with each downward thrust, nipples tight and dark in the dull unripe peach light. The wet slaps of her ass meeting your hips echoes through the small room, growing louder and faster.

“Fuck… you feel so good,” she gasps huskily as she rides you harder. “So thick… stretching me open every time I drop down on you.”

She doesn’t stop. She keeps bouncing with long, continuous and relentless strokes. Up until you almost slip out, then crashing back down, her slick pussy swallowing your cock again and again. Her dark hair flies wildly around her shoulders and sweat begins to glisten on her skin with the intensity. Her thighs flex powerfully with every rise and fall.

“Watch me,” she taunts softly, eyes locked on yours. “Watch how deep I take you. You like that? You like how my pussy looks wrapped around your cock while I bounce on it?”

She rides you faster, hips snapping down with seductive force. The bed creaks beneath you. The wet sounds of her dripping cunt sliding up and down your shaft fill the room. It's lewd, rhythmic and addictive.

“Don’t hold back,” she moans, bouncing even harder. “Let me fuck you properly. Use me. Fill me up with that thick cock.”

You can’t stay passive anymore. Her dirty talk and the sight of her bouncing so shamelessly on you triggers something inside you. You grip her hips tightly and start thrusting up to meet her, driving your cock even deeper on every downward bounce.

“Yes — just like that!” she cries out. “Fuck me back. Harder. I want to feel you slam up into me while I ride you.”

The pace turns brutal. She keeps bouncing with long, powerful strokes that never seem to end while you thrust up to meet her, the two of you colliding again and again in a wet, frantic rhythm. Her breasts bounce wildly. Her inner walls flutter and squeeze around you with an otherworldly expert skill, milking your cock on every upward thrust and every downward slam.

“Fuck, you’re so deep,” she gasps “I can feel you hitting the back of my pussy every time. Don’t stop — keep fucking me like that. Give me that cock. I want all of it.”

She rides you even harder, ass slapping loudly against your thighs, her slick juices coating your cock and dripping down your balls, pooling at the already crumpled sheets beneath you. Her moans grow louder, more desperate, but she never loses control. She's still the one setting the merciless rhythm, still taunting you with every word.

“Look at you… losing control already,” she purrs between bounces. “You were trying to be so quiet when you walked in. Now you’re thrusting up into me like you can’t get enough. Come on, give it to me harder. Pound my pussy while I bounce on you.”

The intensity keeps building. She bounces faster, longer, taking you deeper with every drop. You thrust up harder, meeting her halfway, the wet sounds turning disgustingly pornographic. The bed shakes. Sweat slicks both your bodies, darkening the already black sheets below. Her long dark hair sticks to her damp skin as she throws her head back, lips parted in raw pleasure.

When you finally flip her onto her back, she laughs breathlessly at your bravery, moaning seductively and immediately wraps her long legs high around your waist, heels digging hard into your lower back.

“Give it to me,” she purrs, staring deep into your drunk pupils. “Fuck me deep. I want to feel every hard thrust. Don’t you dare hold back now.”

You drive into her with powerful, relentless strokes.

Hard, fast, deep.

Hard, fast, deep.

Hard, fast, deep.

She meets every thrust with rolling hips, her pussy clenching greedily around you, urging you even deeper.

But it’s not enough for her.

Her legs tighten like a vise around your waist, heels pressing insistently into your back as she pulls you into her with every thrust, forcing your cock even deeper.

“Harder,” she gasps, eyes wild. “Yes — just like that. Pound my pussy. Make me feel it. I want you to ruin me with that cock.”

You lose control.

You start fucking her with desperate, punishing force, giving long, brutal thrusts that slam into her again and again. Her moans rip violently from her mouth with every savage stroke, long dark hair fanning across the black sheets.

She doesn’t just take it.

Her legs lock even tighter around you, ankles crossed behind your back, using her thighs to yank you deeper on every downward plunge. Every time you pull back, she drags you back in, heels digging harder, forcing your cock to bottom out inside her slick, fluttering heat.

“Deeper—fuck, deeper!” she moans, voice breaking into sharp cries. “Don’t pull out so much. Slam it all the way in. I want to feel you in my guts.”

Sweat flies from your bodies. Her pussy clenches and flutters wildly around your cock, greedy and soaking endlessly. She keeps pulling you in with her legs, matching your desperate rhythm, nails raking bloody lines down your back as she urges you on.

“Harder… yes… ruin me,” she gasps between broken moans. “Pound that cock into me. I can take it, give me everything. Don’t you fucking stop.”

You fuck her harder than your hardest, punish her walls with thrusts that border on violent. The sound of your bodies slamming together is filthy and constant. Her inner walls squeeze you so tightly it almost hurts.

“Fuck—right there!” she cries out, voice raw. “Keep pounding me just like that. I’m so close—don’t you dare slow down. Fill me up. Wreck my pussy.”

The orgasm builds like an inferno.

She cums first, body arching sharply off the bed, legs locking painfully tight around you as her walls pulse and spasm around your cock in powerful, rhythmic waves. She screams, “Fuck—I’m cumming—don’t stop—fill me up!”

The intense contractions rip through you. You bury yourself as deep as you can and cum hard, sending pulsing hot and thick waves inside her while she continues those perfect, fluttering squeezes, milking every last drop with devastating skill. Her legs stay locked around you the entire time, refusing to let you pull back even a millimeter.

Afterward she slowly loosens her legs, both of you breathing hard, skin slick with sweat. She traces lazy patterns on your chest with one fingertip and presses a soft, almost tender kiss to your temple, a small satisfied smile spreading on her lips.

Then the sim timer blinks red.

You wake with a jolt on the bar stool, heart racing, every nerve still singing with aftershocks. Your mouth tastes of cherries and jasmine. Between your legs you’re half-hard, sticky, and throbbing as you soften.

You stare at the empty glass.

“Fuck,” you whisper.

Your wrist device is still there. Fingers trembling slightly, you book the next available slot.

Same lounge. Same companion.

Yujin.

You are already hooked.

***

pleasure_protocol.exe (v 1.3.4)

You keep coming back.

You tell yourself it's just one more session to take the edge of your exhaustion off, but the next thing you know, the violet lights are already around you.

And Yujin is already waiting for you.

“Back so soon?” she teases gently, smile carrying slight warmth rather than the professional courtesy you saw yesterday. “Missed forgetting already?”

“Something like that,” you chuckle.

The conversation between her and you flows easier now. She shares fragments of her exhaustion — the endless stream of clients who crave for fantasies they can't have in reality, the way the simulation resets after every session leaves her feeling hollow afterward. You? You talk about your favourite companion alcohol and its accompanying noun habit. You wouldn't be you without one or the other. You also admit how your apartment feels smaller every single night, how your percentage of loneliness is increasing by 1% every single day — it's currently at 1802%.

At one point she asks what you do when you're not here.

“I’m a developer on the simulator enhancements team. We work on amplifying raw emotions and sensations, making everything hit harder, making everything… feel more real inside the simulation.”

You shrug and give a half-bitter smile. “Ironic huh? The one working on improving emotions is seeking for more emotion.”

She looks at you for a moment, something unreadable flashing in her eyes, then simply nods.

“Must be strange, knowing that you're the one trying to make it all feel so… convincing.”

The hunger from last night builds as the conversation gets deeper. The next thing you know, you're both back on the same black bed with the same black sheets and the same dull unripe peach lights.

But the touches feel heavier and more addictive, even though it's just a day that has passed without any firmware update. Your hands map her body, palms sliding up her waist, cupping her breasts, thumbs brushing her nipples until they harden. Her? She kisses you like she's been starving for months. Tongue dancing across your lips, teeth grazing your neck, lips suckling your chest.

Clothes vanish quickly and she pushes you onto your back. She turns around this time round, straddling you in reverse cowgirl. She grabs your cock and guides it to her entrance, sinking down slowly until her scorching heat envelopes you fully.

She starts riding you quickly, rocking her hips with snapping force, not before rising until only the head remains inside her and slamming down. From this angle, you have a perfect view of her ass bouncing, her slick pussy stretching around your cock, her long dark hair cascading down her back.

“Mmm… look at you,” she purrs, glancing back over her shoulder with a wicked little smile. “Already so hard for me again. Did you think about this pussy all day?”

She keeps bouncing, ass slapping loudly against your hips with every drop. Sweat beads on her skin. Her thighs flex powerfully as she rides you faster.

“You like the view back there?” she teases, voice breathy but playful. “Watching my ass bounce while I fuck myself on your cock? Bet you never get tired of that sight.”

You grip her hips and start thrusting up to meet her, driving deeper on every downward bounce. She moans louder, clearly enjoying your loss of control.

“Oh? Getting eager now?” she laughs softly, still bouncing. “Go on then, fuck into me. I love it when you go crazy for me. Show me how badly you love my tight little pussy.”

The sensations go crazy. She bends forward onto the bed and slams her hips down with long, powerful strokes while you thrust up into her, the two of you colliding over and over again. Her firm ass cheeks spread wider with the new position, and you grab on to them lifting and pushing her down onto you while her inner walls flutter and squeeze without pause.

“Fuck… that’s it,” she gasps. “Keep going. I love feeling you lose it underneath me. You’re getting so deep. Are you trying to ruin me already?”

When it becomes too much for you to hold on, she slides off and gets on all fours, arching her back deeply and pushing her ass toward you.

You move behind instantly, gripping her hips and sliding back inside her in one smooth thrust. The doggy position lets you go even deeper, the angle perfect for powerful, primal strokes.

You start fucking her hard — as if you weren't hard before — slamming relentlessly until she moans into the sheets. If there's anything you understand about Yujin from these two days, she's not passive when it comes to sex, clearly understanding that it takes two hands to clap. She pushes back against you, meeting every slam, her ass rippling with each impact.

“Harder,” she demands. “Come on, don’t be gentle. I can take it. Weren’t you rougher yesterday?”

You give it to her, hips snapping forward again and again. She keeps pushing back, clenching around you, urging you deeper. “That’s better,” she moans, pushing back even harder. “Fuck—I can feel you so deep like this. You like having me on all fours? Like owning this pussy from behind?”

You pound her mercilessly, one hand sliding up her back to grip her shoulder for leverage, the other reaching around to rub her clit in circles. Her moans turn sharper, more desperate.

“Don’t slow down,” she gasps. “I’m so close—keep pounding me just like that. Make me scream for you.”

Then she shatters. Her body shakes and her walls clenches, sending waves of wet and hot liquid all around your cock.

“Fuck — I’m coming… don’t stop — fill me up!”

You bury yourself as deep as you can and cum inside her, growling deep as you fuck your cum into her milking pussy.

Afterward you both collapse onto the bed, breathing hard. You press a kiss to her shoulder. In the quiet moment, you whisper almost too softly, “Is this real?” The question hangs for half a second, then dissolves when the other leans in for another kiss.

You both push the thought away.

That night you log out later than the day before. The world outside is still raining. You wait under a bus stop outside the cheap public node station, heart pounding harder than any simulation has ever made.

Then you see her.

Yujin steps out of the node station with a real coat on her real shoulders, real face softer and more vulnerable than what you've seen from before.

She sees you and stops.

Something electric snaps in the air between you.

You don’t think. You just move.

You don't know why, but you cross the distance in three measured gaits, rain dripping from your hair, and pull her into you. The kiss is urgent and frantic despite connecting with your bodies earlier, but as your mouths crash together, you find your tongues sliding hot and messy, teeth grazing each other in the rush. Her hands grab and crumple your wet shirt, pulling you closer like she’s afraid you’ll disappear. You grip her waist hard, pushing and backing her against the node station wall as the rain pours down around you both.

It’s not a gentle smooch. It's a warming desperate kiss. Real lips, cold from the rain, tasting faintly of cherry. Real breath gasping against your mouth. Real fingers digging into your shoulders. Her body presses flush against yours, heartbeat thumping wildly against your chest.

When you finally break apart, both of you are breathing hard, foreheads pressed together. Rain streams down your faces and for a second, neither of you speaks.

pleasure_doubt_protocol.exe (v 1.8.12)

Your “dates” with her now transit between worlds. Some nights in the violet lounge, other nights you find each other in reality — at the expense of any small pockets of available time you both have, of course.

A late-night supper where the noodles are boiling hot and the lights are too bright, not before you're balls deep in her by the alley. A quiet bench under flickering streetlamps where rain pitter-patters on your shared umbrella while you sit on plastic bags to keep your pants dry. The next thing you know, you're pumping up into her tight cunt behind the bushes. The contrast sharpens everything: the sim feels warmer, more forgiving; reality feels rawer, more fragile.

Sex escalates naturally between you both. It grows more intense and vulnerable as you both feel more deeply connected.

In the simulation one evening she pushes you down and takes control completely, pinning your hands above your head while she rides you fervently. You unload every drop inside her.

Later, in reality, you pull her into the narrow alley behind her node station, tasting her right there and then with her coat half-open and your knees on the ground. She cums with a muffled cry, fingers twisted in your wet hair.

Sometimes in the simulation, vulnerability between you both deepens. You make love facing each other, eyes never leaving one another as you grind your sexes slowly and intensely. Her legs wrap around you tight, each thrust filled with passion, each breath filled with intention. She whispers how good you feel, how she doesn’t want the session to end. You tell her the same between kisses, hands mapping every curve like you’re afraid the code might forget.

Yet the subtle unease creeps in anyway.

After one particularly intense night, a quiet question surfaces in your mind: Are these feelings just simulation bleed?

Are the feelings you feel in reality a consequence of the amplified emotions from the simulations?

The way her touch lingers in your real nerves even hours after logout.

The way your heart races when you see her avatar before she even speaks.

The way you smile when you lace your fingers under the night sky.

Are they real, or are they an after-effect?

The codes that you work with every day surge out of your mind. Are what you're feeling just 1s and 0s? Is it the same for her?

You push the thoughts away, tightening your arms around her instead.

Yujin has her own onion layers to peel.

Once, after you’ve both come down from a slow, shuddering orgasm in the real world (your small apartment), she lies quiet for longer than usual.

“Sometimes I wonder if I can still feel anything real anymore,” she murmurs. “Everything’s been paid for so long… but this feels different.”

She pauses, then laughs softly to herself, “Or maybe I’m just doubting myself again. Maybe I’m the one who’s broken and can’t tell the difference anymore. Or maybe I’m doubting you too, wondering if you only feel this because you helped build the code that makes feelings feel stronger.”

“Are my doubts being amplified?” She shakes her head, as if trying to shake the thought loose. “See? Even my doubts have doubts now.”

She doesn’t elaborate further. You don’t press, because you don't know either.

The doubt stays mostly hidden, tucked beneath layers of genuine closeness. You share laughter in the diner when she steals fries from your plate. You hold her hand during a slow walk along the riverfront, thumbs brushing in quiet affection. In the sim you experiment with new positions — her bouncing on your cock while you stand and carry-fuck her, or both of you standing, her braced against the wall as she takes you from behind with deep thrusts that make her cry out.

Every encounter still feels connected, sensual and addictive like the first. The hunger hasn’t faded. If anything, it has grown roots.

One especially intense night you meet in the customized sim room. Everything goes the same, your cock in her mouth, her hips rocking against your tongue. When neither of you can wait any longer you both fuck each other until your orgasms hit you both almost simultaneously.

When you're both gasping and coming down from your high, forehead pressed against each other, she whispers:

“Next time, let’s try something more… real.”

She doesn’t explain what she means.

And for the first time, the roots of your shallow infatuation dig into the doubt layered beneath.

***

pleasure_doubt_protocol.exe (v 2.4.19)

You agree to the fully real-world date with an unsettling kind of hope that already feels dangerous.

It was her idea.

No simulation.

No script.

No safety net of code.

No sex.

Nothing but a date.

Just the two of you, ordinary and exposed.

You meet outside a café along a quiet side street where it's drizzling. It always rains when you both are together.

Yujin arrives first, wearing a simple black coat over a soft gray crop top and dark jeans. It's nothing extravagant, nothing designed to seduce. When she sees you, her smile is small and genuine.

“Hey,” she says with that same low warmth you know from every private room session, but yet today she sounds more fragile. You already know what today is about.

“Hey,” you reply.

The date unfolds tenderly on the surface.

Inside the café the air is warm and fragrant with caffeine. You sit across from each other at a polished wooden table. The conversation flows easier than you expect — were you expecting it to not be? It's the same small talk you both always have, light stories about ridiculous clients she’s had, your latest corporate drudgery enhancing emotional algorithms in the very simulations you both escape into.

But it feels different. It feels… lighter.

She laughs when you describe a glitch that turned an entire luxury lounge into a potato farm for three hours. You steal glances at the way her eyes crinkle, at the small scar on her knuckle she got from real life, not there in the code life she has.

After coffee chat you walk together along the river, when the rain has finally eased into a cool, fine mist. Streetlamps cast golden halos on the wet pavement like checkpoints, making your heart thump harder when you leave one, making your heart calm slightly when you reach the next one.

You both don't say anything during the walk.

Your fingers brush on the seventeenth checkpoint, then intertwine naturally on the nineteenth. Her hand feels warm and solid in yours. It’s a temperature that feels non-simulated. Just real skin, real pulse.

After the 43rd golden checkpoint, you stop under a bridge where the lights are softer. She turns to you, hands grabbing on to your collars. You lean in and kiss her. Her lips taste faintly of the coffee she drank earlier. Or is it the lingering caffeine from yours? You dig deeper to find out. Her hands slide up your chest to rest at the back of your neck. The kiss stretches unhurried, real breath mingling, real heartbeats close enough to feel.

On the surface it is perfect. Tender. Ordinary in the best way.

Inside, the doubt begins to surface more noticeably.

As you walk again, her hand is still in yours, but your mind keeps drifting to the system you know too well. You develop the very enhancements that make simulated emotions feel indistinguishable from real ones. You’ve seen how residual data bleeds into reality, how an avatar’s learned behaviors can leak into logged-out states, how emotional subroutines can plague long after the session ends.

Every gentle squeeze of her fingers makes you wonder: Is this genuine, or is it residual code bleeding into reality?

The thought sticks like glue that doesn't let go. You love her and you feel it sharp and clear, but the knowledge of the system you created poisons your feelings. You pull back emotionally even while your body stays present.

Your grip loosens ever so slightly.

Your breath hitches a millisecond.

Your eyes waver a millimeter.

Yujin feels it.

She has been numb to paid touch for so long that this — real café date, real walk, real kisses without timers or cash deposition — feels different.

Profoundly different.

Or that's what you think she thinks.

Her feelings surge inside her chest, terrifying in their clarity. She wants to tell you how safe she feels with you, how the numbness inside of her has faded and something thumping has taken its place.

You're assuming everything at this point.

But she senses your withdrawal, the subtle distance in your eyes, the way your laughter fades a little too quickly. She interprets it as rejection, as the inevitable moment when reality fails to live up to the sim.

Is this what she's thinking?

You see her frown at you, perhaps thinking: Maybe I’m just doubting myself again. Maybe I’m the one who’s broken and can’t tell the difference anymore. Or maybe he’s right to doubt me. After all, I’m the one who’s spent years letting code tell me what pleasure feels like.

She doesn’t communicate anything in her mind. She keeps her own feelings guarded, smiling softly instead, squeezing your hand once before letting the silence stretch. In her mind the doubts probably layered on top of each other: doubting him, doubting herself, even doubting her own doubts.

And it goes the same for you.

Are you doubting her?

Is she doubting herself?

Are these doubts even true?

Who made up these doubts?

The growing gap widens without a single raised voice.

You end the night at the entrance to her node station. The rain has picked up again, heavy like hail pelting on the awning above you. You pull her close for one last lingering kiss, deep and slow, full of everything unsaid, full of everything unclarified. Her body presses against yours, real and warm, but the emotional current feels strained, like two frequencies drifting out of sync.

When you finally part, she looks at you for a long moment. She doesn’t ask to stay over. She doesn’t suggest another date. She simply touches your cheek once, gently, and says, “Goodnight, Jae.”

Then she turns and walks into the station, coat swaying, shoulders straight but somehow smaller.

Your chest aches with a hollow kind of longing. Already the doubt is amplified.

Was any of it real?

Or was I just chasing code that learned how to feel like love?

***

pleasure_doubt_protocol.exe (v 2.9.27)

The looming doubt from the real-world date does not fade. It festers.

You drink heavily now, bottles lining up on the kitchen counter. The doubt explodes inside you like ever since that night. Every memory you made with her fractures under the cold knowledge of the countless codes and grids you developed. And you? You swallow yourself into work, writing more code, amplifying more emotions, making simulated pleasure feel more and even more. You delete your sim access in a drunken rage one night, then reinstall it the next morning with shaking hands. You accept the promotion that arose from a successful 357% increment of emotion enhancement. Material security over emotional risk, you tell yourself.

Yujin reacts the opposite way.

She chases harder in the simulations, desperate to prove the connection is real. She messages you relentlessly through the public nodes until you log in again. When you finally do, she pulls you into a heavily customized private room and immediately conjures something she has never done before.

“Tonight I need you to feel me,” she says, voiced laced with a trembling raw urgency. “Not the sim. Not the code. Me. All of me. Even if I have to become more than one to make you believe.”

She crashes into you, kissing you hard. Then, with a flick of her wrist and a shimmer in the air, a second Yujin appears beside the bed — identical, naked, eyes burning with the same desperate desire.

The first Yujin straddles your face instantly. “Eat me,” she demands, lowering her dripping pussy onto your mouth. “Make me cum while my other self fucks you senseless.”

You grip her thighs without hesitation and bury your tongue into her folds, licking broad and messy stripes up and down, sucking hard on her swollen clit. She grinds down shamelessly onto you, riding your mouth with wet and slick sounds. At the same time, the second Yujin grabs onto your legs and lifts them, folding your thighs onto your chest. She then grabs your cock and bends it towards her, guiding it to her entrance. She pushes her snatch forward and envelopes you fully.

She starts pounding into you immediately — long, powerful, relentless strokes. Rising until only the head remains inside her, then slamming onto you hard, taking every thick inch. Her breasts bounce with every snap of her hips as she fucks you. “Fuck… you’re so thick,” the second Yujin gasps, thrusting harder and faster. “Stretching my pussy open every single time I pound you. I know you’re doubting this. I know you’re doubting me. But feel how real my pussy is gripping you while I ride you. Feel how wet I am even when you think I’m fake.”

She keeps on fucking you with ferocity, hammering her pussy onto you that never seem to slow. Her thighs slap loudly against yours with every impact. Sweat glistens on her skin. Her thighs flex powerfully as she presses onto you faster.

“Still doubting me?” she taunts, looking down at you while the first Yujin grinds on your face. “Still think this is all code? Then why is your cock throbbing so hard inside me? Why is your tongue still licking my pussy like you’re starving?”

The first Yujin moans loudly with her still stuck on your face. “That’s it—eat my pussy while I fuck you. Taste how real I am. I am real. I am dripping for you even when you doubt everything.”

The second Yujin fucks you even harder, hips snapping down with a seductive force, her pussy clenching rhythmically around your cock in an attempt to claim you as hers. “I know you’re scared. I know you think our feelings are just amplified data. But feel this, feel me bouncing on your cock, milking you, using you. This is me trying to fuck the doubt out of you.”

You can’t hold back anymore. The combined pleasure rips through you. You groan into the first Yujin’s pussy as you cum hard, pulsing thick and hot inside the second one. She keeps fucking your cock through your orgasm, milking every drop with continuous tight, wrenching squeezes.

But they’re not done.

The second Yujin slides off, and with another shimmer, a third Yujin appears. Now there are three identical versions of her.

They reposition and flip you onto all fours.

One Yujin kneels in front of you and grabs your hair, and pushes a thick conjured strapon into your mouth. Another slides beneath you, guiding your still-hard cock into her dripping pussy, and starts grinding up into you. The third moves behind you, pressing her strap-on against your ass, and pushes in deep in one smooth thrust.

You are completely spit-roasted.

The Yujin in your mouth fucks your throat with slow, deep strokes. “Suck it,” she purrs. “Suck my cock while you fuck my pussy and take mine in your ass. I know you’re doubting everything. I know you think none of this is real. So feel it. All of it.”

The one beneath you rolls her hips upwards, taking you deep into her cunt. “Still doubting us?” she moans. “Still think our love is just simulated? Then why is your cock so hard inside me? Why are you leaking while we fuck you?”

The one behind you pounds your ass with long, relentless pushes and pulls, her hips slapping against you. “I know you’re doubting me. I know you’re doubting yourself. I know you’re even doubting your own doubts. But feel my cock wrecking your ass. Feel how real it is when I fuck you like this.”

All three move in perfect, overwhelming sync. The one at the back pushing into you, slamming you forward into the pussy beneath you, thrusting you forward into the cock at your mouth. When she pulls back, the one in front fucks into your mouth, pushing your ass back onto her, sliding you out of the pussy below you. They fuck your mouth, your cock, and your ass at the same time. The Yujin behind you reaches around and jerks your cock in time with her brutal thrusts.

“Still think this is fake?” she growls, pounding harder. “Still think I’m just code? Then why is your cock twitching in her pussy? Why is your throat taking my cock so eagerly? I’m going to fuck every doubt out of you until you believe me.”

The pounding is merciless and long. You don’t know how much time has passed despite the amplified focus and awareness. The one in your ass slams into you again and again, deep, punishing strokes that hammer your prostate. The one beneath you grinds up into you, her pussy clenching greedily. The one in your mouth fucks your throat with steady, deep thrusts.

Your body begins to shake.

Your eyes roll into whites.

“Cum for us,” the one beneath you moans. “Fill my pussy while we use you. Prove you can still feel something real even when you doubt everything.”

The overwhelming sensation pushes you over the edge again. You cum hard, groaning around the cock in your mouth as you spill deep into the Yujin beneath you. All three versions moan in unison, their bodies trembling with you as they keep fucking you through your orgasm.

Only then do they slowly pull away, the extra copies shimmering out of existence until only the original Yujin remains, collapsing over your back, breathing hard.

She kisses the back of your neck.

“Did you feel that? That was real. We’re real. Please… believe me.”

You lie there, heart hammering, aftershocks still rippling through your spent body.

But even as the sensations feel stronger and more intense than before, the doubt is louder than ever. To you right now, everything feels… distant. Even the most extreme, overwhelming pleasure feels like data. Recorded, rendered, repeatable. You gently ease away from her, muttering something about needing air, and log out before she can stop you.

***

doubt_protocol.exe (v 3.10.8)

You log out while she is still reaching for you, the ghost of her fingers brushing empty air. The real world slams back in and you're back in the cold apartment, half-empty alcohol bottle on the table. Your body is still trembling with your ass sore, cock spent, skin sticky with sweat and lube and her. But none of it feels real anymore. It feels like data.

You delete your sim access again that night. This time you don’t reinstall it for three full days.

When you finally log back in, it is only because her messages have become frantic, short, desperate.

Please.

Just talk to me.

I’m scared.

The neutral public lounge is almost empty. Yujin is already there, standing in the middle of the empty space like she has been waiting forever. Her avatar looks smaller than you remember. Shoulders slightly hunched. Eyes red-rimmed even through perfect rendering. The sight of her hits you harder than any thrust ever could.

She steps forward the moment she sees you.

“Jae…”

You stop a few steps away. The distance feels both necessary and unbearable.

She tries to smile, but it wobbles and dies. “I keep replaying that night. The way you felt under me… around me. The way you came while I was still inside you. The way I made another version of myself just to overwhelm your doubts. It was real. I felt it. I know it.” Her hands tremble at her sides. “Why won’t you let yourself feel it too?”

You look at her, at the woman who chose you in a cheap public sim because your despair felt familiar, at the woman who rode you like she was trying to save both of you, at the woman who literally multiplied herself because she was terrified of losing you.

Something inside your chest splinters.

“I can’t,” you whisper, tears flowing from your eyes.

The words come out raw, dug from the deepest part of you.

“I can’t risk it anymore. I develop the enhancements that make simulated emotions feel more real than reality. I’ve seen how one night of intense connection gets written into the residual data and leaks out into the next session. How perfectly the system can learn to say ‘I love you’ so that it feels indistinguishable from the truth.”

“What if that’s all this is? What if I’m in love with code that got too good at pretending?”

Tears spill down her cheeks now. She doesn’t wipe them away.

“So you’re telling me everything we did, every time I came apart for you, every time you held me after, every real-world kiss in the rain, even when I brought another version of myself just to prove I’m real, none of it was enough to prove I’m real to you?”

Her voice rises, not in anger but in pure, aching desperation and sadness.

“I was numb for years, Jae. Paid touch, paid moans, paid smiles. Then you walked in drunk and quiet and looking like the world had already ended for you… and something woke up inside me. Something that hurt. Something that wanted you. I chose you. Not the credits. Not my clients. You.”

She takes one step closer. Her hand lifts, hovers, then drops again when she sees you flinch.

“I begged you with my body that night. I let you see every raw, messy, desperate part of me, even when I split myself in two just to fuck the doubt out of you. And you still choose doubt?”

Her breath hitches on a sob she tries to swallow. “I kept looking for proof that our love was real… and all along the proof was that I kept looking. That I kept coming back even when it terrified me. Even when I started doubting myself, doubting you, doubting my own doubts.”

The silence that follows is worse than any scream.

The breakdown crashes over you like a wave you can’t outrun. Your chest tightens until breathing hurts. Your hands shake violently. You want to reach for her. You want to pull her close, bury your face in her neck, tell her you’re sorry, that you’re terrified, that you love her so much it feels like dying.

But the fear is louder.

The knowledge of the system is louder.

And now the regret starts to eat you alive.

“I’d rather feel nothing,” you say, “than feel something that might not be real.”

The words land like a blade between you.

Yujin’s face crumples completely. A soft, broken sound escapes her and she presses both hands over her mouth as if she can hold the pain inside. Tears stream freely now. Her shoulders shake.

For one terrible moment she just stands there, looking at you like you have killed something precious between you.

Then she straightens slowly, as if every movement costs her everything.

“Fine,” she whispers. “Then I’ll disappear where the code can’t lie to you anymore. Where even you can’t doubt what’s left of me.”

She takes one last look at you, eyes still full of love and grief and quiet devastation, and turns away.

“Maybe when I'm gone, you’ll understand that your love and my love… our love… were never doubts.”

Her avatar begins to dissolve, pixel by pixel. Her status log lights up in your eyes. Gone was the cheap public node Yujin. She has contracted into a high-paying, long-term immersion contract. A place where the system owns every second, every thought, every simulated heartbeat for months, maybe years.

No more public lounges.

No more stolen real-world kisses.

No more chances.

You reach out instinctively, hand closing on empty air.

“Yujin—”

But she is already gone.

***

doubt_protocol.exe (v 3.11.2569)

Months later.

The apartment is quieter than it has any right to be. You are sober now.

Painfully, relentlessly sober.

The bottles are gone.

The trembling in your hands has mostly stopped.

You go to work every day in the simulation maintenance division, your corporate ID badge clipped to your chest. You spend your shifts monitoring grid stability, patching residual bleed, fine-tuning the very emotional amplifiers you once helped design.

You tell yourself you are fine.

Most days you almost believe it.

Until tonight.

3rd November, 2569

A ghost signal appears on one of the private monitoring channels. It's the creation of an unauthorised private world, buried deep in the unused layers. The access tag is simple. Just two words. Her name. The one you whispered against her skin every night.

Your heart stutters. Your fingers hover over the console for a long moment before you log in.

The transition is gentle this time. No cheap lurch, no static hiss.

It is the exact recreation of your real-world date.

The small café with its soft caffeine smell. The river walk hazy with mist. All 43 golden checkpoints under the path to the bridge where you missed. Even the fine drizzle hangs in the air, soft and familiar. But the space is empty. No avatars. No distant city sounds. Just the rain, the light, and the hollow echo of your own footsteps.

You walk the path you took that night. Every detail is perfect. The seventeenth where your hand brushed hers, the nineteenth where your fingers intertwined with hers, the bench where you stopped under the bridge and kissed, the awning where you said goodnight and watched her walk away.

Your chest tightens until breathing hurts.

You walk back to the bench underneath the bridge, sitting at the same spot where you kissed her. Everything is the same, except for the fact that she is not there anymore.

Then a plain envelope fades into view beside you. Inside is a single cheap paper bookmark, the kind sold at node stations. On it, is her familiar, slightly slanted handwriting:

I kept looking for proof that our love was real.

I never realised the proof was that I kept looking.

I love you.

-Yujin

You stare at the words until they blur.

The regret you thought had settled into something manageable surges back, sharper than ever. It hits you like a physical blow. Your knees buckle and your hand presses to the center of your chest as if you could hold the breaking pieces together.

You loved her.

God, you loved her.

You loved the way she chose you when you were nothing but a drunk shadow in a cheap sim.

You loved the raw hunger in her voice when she rode you like salvation.

You loved the quiet vulnerability in her eyes the night she suggested something more real.

You loved her real lips tasting of coffee and rain.

You loved the way she split herself just to prove she was real.

You loved her enough to destroy her.

And you let doubt win.

A low, broken sound tears out of you. It's not a sob this time, but something deeper, more animal. You sink to your knees on the wet pavement, fingers crumpling useless at the bookmark.

The rain keeps falling, soft and indifferent, exactly as it did the night you first kissed her in reality.

Each drop feels like an accusation.

Each drop feels like a judgement.

Each drop feels like the doubt you never casted aside.

You see her face again in your head again. The way it crumpled when you said you’d rather feel nothing. The way she stepped back, shoulders small and defeated, before dissolving into the grid. You imagine her now, locked inside some long-term immersion contract, surrounded by strangers who will never know the woman who laughed at your stupid potato-farm glitch story, who traced circles on your chest after sex, who literally multiplied herself because she was terrified of losing you.

You destroyed that.

You destroyed her.

Because you were too afraid to risk believing something beautiful might actually be real.

The regret is endless. It coils around your ribs, squeezes until you can’t breathe, until fresh tears burn down your face and mix with the rain. You stay there on your knees for what feels like hours, whispering her name into the empty world like a prayer no one will answer.

“I’m sorry,” you choke out. “I’m so fucking sorry, Yujin. I was wrong. It was real. You were real. I just… I was too scared.”

But the words reach no one.

The system gives its final warning: Idle timeout in sixty seconds.

You don’t move.

Thirty seconds.

You press your forehead to the cold, wet ground, shoulders shaking with silent, wrenching sobs.

Ten seconds.

The world begins to fade.

As the private realm logs you out, the last thing you see is her handwriting, soft and steady against the rain.

I love you.

Not loved.

Love.

Then darkness.

You never log in again.

***

A/N #2: I'm sorry I had to end this on a sad end but I felt that it was the best course for this piece. For those of you who are really interested in an alternate ending, you can check out this link here:

love_protocol.exe (v 4.0.0)

A/N #3: Thank you for reading this series. It's not exactly a series??? Moreso a compilation of oneshots for each of the IVE members. Although, I would say that the theme of this series explores the inherent six emotional tone of the six different members.

Delusion. Silence. Control. Chaos. Doubt. Youth.

I hope I conveyed these emotions and core concepts well that resonates with you, and made you feel something. It was honestly a very fun experience writing them, and I looked deeper into what makes a character a character and I hope you've taken away some 'lessons' about life as well!

Thank you all my readers for supporting me, and every comment that you leave really spurs me to write more, do better and of course write more emotionally impactful pieces.

pI'll see you in my future works!

—AutumnyAcorn

Which was your favourite path?

Path of Delusion (IVE's Jang Wonyoung)

Path of Control (IVE's Naoi Rei)

Path of Chaos (IVE's Leeseo / Lee Hyunseo)

Path of Silence (IVE's Kim Gaeul)

Path of Youth (IVE's Liz / Kim Jiwon / Elizabeth Helga Muller)

Path of Doubt (IVE's Ahn Yujin)

Voting ended onApr 2

[halfmangooo]

Out of Bounds - Part 3

IVE Yujin x IVE Wonyoung x ITZY Yuna x AESPA Karina x Male Reader

6k words

Ms. Kwon stood at the front of the room, her sharp silhouette cast against the blackboard. She straightened the stack of papers with a clinical thwack that echoed through the quiet room, her glasses glinting under the fluorescent lights.

"Clear your desks," she announced, her voice crisp and commanding. "Pencils only. You have twenty minutes for the quiz. It’s straightforward, if you’ve been paying attention in class last week, you’ll be fine."

The rustle of bags and the zipping of cases filled the air as the students settled in.

In the front row, Yuna swapped her high-energy flirting for fierce determination. She stared briefly at the empty radiator, picturing you there, before shaking the thought away. As she hit a difficult problem, she didn't panic; she remembered the specific shortcut you'd shown her on the whiteboard. Gripping her pencil, she focused on each question leaving no room for pouting.

Wonyoung maintained her graceful nonchalance in the middle row, but her eyes sharpened the moment she got the exam. Her usual bubbly personality disappeared, replaced by a focus trying to remember what you had said during the session. 

By the window, Yujin worked with efficiency. She didn’t need to check the clock; to her, the quiz was simply a silent continuation of your conversation. Every problem felt like a question you had already asked her, and she was answering with the focus and execution she had during office hours.

With five minutes remaining, Yujin was already leaning back, her paper face-down, watching the dust dance in the light. She looked calm, steady, and entirely sure of herself.

"Five minutes," Ms. Kwon called out, checking her watch with a sharp nod.

When the bell finally rang, the room exhaled.

"Papers to the front," Ms. Kwon said, gesturing with a brisk wave of her hand. "Don’t forget, there will be no office hours tomorrow. The TA and I have to grade the papers. They should be done by Wednesday."

—

The atmosphere in the class was a sharp contrast to the chaotic energy of the regular math wing. Here, the only sound was the rhythmic scratching of pens and the low hum of the wall heater.

You sat in the back row, your notebook open to the day's notes, though your eyes were fixed on the front of the room. Beside you, Karina leaned back, her long hair falling over the back of her chair. She was one of the few who could actually keep pace with the lecture, which meant she could spend most of her time observing you.

"You're unusually quiet today, y/n," she whispered, her voice a low velvet that barely carried past your desk. She leaned in closer, the faint scent of her perfume cutting through the scent of pencil lead. "Are you actually worried about your students taking Ms. Kwon’s quiz right now? I didn't think you had a heart to fret with."

You didn't pause your pen. "I'm not worried, Karina. My job was to give them the logic. What they do with it during the quiz is none of my concern."

"Spoken like someone trying to convince himself," she teased, a small, knowing smirk playing on her lips. She tapped the edge of your notebook with her pen. "You’ve checked the wall clock three times since the bell rang. You're wondering if they're struggling, aren't you?"

"I'm checking the clock because the lecture is boring," you replied coldly. "If they fail, they fail. There's nothing more that could be done."

"Sure," she hummed, turning back to her own work. "But I have a feeling they’re more prepared than you think. You have a way of... leaving an impression on people."

—

As the bell rang, the usual post-quiz chatter was as frantic as ever.

"The second page was almost identical to problems he did on the board," Wonyoung murmured, adjusting her bag as she walked alongside Yujin.

Yujin nodded, her expression unreadable. "It wasn't a trick. It was just the logic he kept stressing. If you followed the steps, the answer was already there."

Wonyoung slowed her pace, a mischievous glint in her eyes as she leaned closer to Yujin. "Is that so? Because you looked a little too focused. Honestly, Yujin... were you actually solving the problems, or were you just thinking about him the whole time you were writing?"

Yujin’s pace faltered for a split second, a sudden, sharp heat climbing up her neck. "I, what? Don't be ridiculous," she stammered, her voice an octave higher than usual as she stared straight ahead. "I was perfectly normal. I was just focused on the quiz and the derivatives. I wasn't thinking about... anything else."

"Your face says otherwise," Wonyoung hummed, looking delighted.

"I’m just warm from the lecture hall," Yujin countered quickly, clutching her bag strap. "You’re so annoying, Wonyoung."

—

The rest of Monday passed in its usual, blur-like efficiency. You followed the same rigid loop you always did: finishing your final classes, heading to practice, followed by dinner and then finishing the day with homework. 

Tuesday rolled by with a similar, predictable rhythm. Classes bled into one another, and before you knew it, the final bell of the day had rung, and the campus began its slow transition into the post-school rush of clubs, sports, and study sessions.

A fresh sign was taped to the door of room 1120, the bold ink leaving no room for interpretation: NO OFFICE HOURS. DO NOT DISTURB.

Inside, the room was silent, save for the rhythmic scratch of your red pen against the final few papers. You were leaning back, focused entirely on the work in front of you. There was no one else in the room; the empty chairs felt like a barrier between you and the rest of the school's noise.

The door creaked open, breaking the silence.

Yuna stood in the doorframe, her presence immediately commanding the room. She had clearly seen you through the small window, and while she definitely noticed the sign, she didn't care in the slightest.

You didn't look up immediately. You finished marking a final bracket, capped your pen with a deliberate click, and finally shifted your gaze toward her. You weren't angry, but your tone was firm.

"The sign is usually there for a reason, Yuna," you said, gesturing slightly to the door.

Instead of retreating, Yuna took a slow, deliberate step into the room, letting the door click shut behind her. She leaned her shoulder against the frame, a playful, soft smile tugging at her lips as she tilted her head.

"I know," she murmured, her voice dropping into a lower, more confident tone. She let her gaze linger on yours before looking at the stack of papers on your desk. "But it's so quiet in here, and the sign says 'Do Not Disturb.' Doesn't that just mean we won't be interrupted?"

She stepped towards the closest desk, her eyes bright with a new kind of daring. "Can't I stay for just a little bit? I'm sure you can make an exception for your favorite student."

You leaned back in your chair, your expression remaining stoic, though the air in the room seemed to shift with her proximity.

"You can’t stay, Yuna," you said, your voice steady and cool. "You can’t see the quizzes until Ms. Kwon officially releases the grades. If anyone walked in and saw you in here while the stack is still open on my desk, it would be an issue for both of us."

Yuna didn't flinch. She actually leaned in a little closer, resting her hand on the edge of the desk closest to the door, her gaze fixed on yours. "Then I guess it’s a good thing you’re so good at keeping secrets, isn't it? I won't tell if you won't."

You looked at her hand resting on the edge of the desk, then back up into her expectant, daring eyes.

She’s not going to take no for an answer, is she. The thought flickered through your mind with a hint of genuine amusement. You hadn't expected her to find this much backbone, but now that she had, it was clear that a simple dismissal wasn't going to work.

A small, almost imperceptible sigh escaped your lips, not one of annoyance, but of weary concession. Your voice lost its sharp, icy edge, replaced by a tone that was still firm, but notably softer.

"Fine," you said, gesturing with your pen toward the table she was leaning on. "Go sit over there. But if you’re staying, stay quiet. I still have the rest of the stack to finish, and I need to focus. Don't bother me while I’m grading."

Yuna’s entire face brightened, a triumphant but contained smile spreading across her lips. She didn't push her luck by saying anything loud; "Whatever you say, boss," as she slid into the chair with a newfound grace, leaning her chin on her palm as she settled in.

The silence returned, though it felt heavier now. You went back to your work, the red pen moving with practiced precision across the final few pages. Even without looking up, you could feel Yuna’s gaze lingering on you from the corner, constant and unblinking. It was a distraction, but one you chose to ignore as you finished the last mark.

You stood up, tapping the stack of papers against the desk to align them. "I’m finished," you said, your voice cutting through the quiet. "I need to head back upstairs to put these in Ms. Kwon’s mailbox so she has them tomorrow morning."

Yuna started to stand, likely to follow you, but you gestured for her to stay put.

"Just wait here," you told her, your tone level. "The halls are still busy, and I’d rather not have people seeing us walk out together while I'm holding the class results. I’ll be back in five minutes."

She sat back down, a small, knowing hum vibrating in her throat as she leaned her chin on her palm again. "Take your time. I’ll wait here just for you."

You stepped out into the hallway, the cool air of the corridor a sharp contrast to the room you just left. You moved with your usual efficiency, climbing the stairs and sliding the folder into Ms. Kwon’s narrow mailbox before turning back toward the TA room.

—

While you were making your way through the quiet upstairs corridors toward Ms. Kwon’s office, the hallway outside the TA room was far from empty.

Wonyoung and Yujin were walking toward the exit, their footsteps echoing in the hallway. They both slowed to a halt as they reached your door. The bold NO OFFICE HOURS. DO NOT DISTURB sign was impossible to miss, yet through the small rectangular window, the room wasn't empty.

Yuna was sitting at the front corner table, looking remarkably comfortable as she waited for your return.

Wonyoung’s eyebrows shot up, a mixture of disbelief and immediate suspicion crossing her face. She leaned closer to the glass. "Is that... Yuna? In there? Alone?"

"He told us he was going to be busy grading today," Wonyoung said, her voice dropping as she pointed at the door. "He literally taped a very explicit 'Do Not Disturb' warning to the handle."

"And yet, she's sitting in there like she owns the place," Yujin added, her voice flat. She watched through the window as Yuna leaned back, looking entirely too relaxed for a student in a TA's private workspace.

Wonyoung tried the handle, but it was locked. She tapped lightly on the glass to get Yuna's attention, but Yuna simply looked over, saw them, and offered a slow, deliberate wave before turning back to the room, looking entirely unbothered.

"She’s actually smirking," Wonyoung noted, her eyes narrowing with a sharp edge of annoyance.

"He said he was busy today," Yujin muttered, her grip tightening on her bag strap as she stared at the sign that apparently didn't apply to everyone.

Wonyoung turned to Yujin, a sharp, calculating glint in her eyes. "Maybe you need to start doing the same."

Yujin blinked, looking at her friend in total confusion. "What? Why?"

"Because being the 'good student' just gets you a locked door and a sign," Wonyoung said, gesturing toward the glass. "But being a distraction? That seems to get you a seat at his desk. If you want his attention, you have to stop waiting for him to give it to you."

"I don't want his attention," she said firmly, gripping her books slightly harder.

Wonyoung’s eyes narrowed as she stared through the glass at Yuna’s relaxed silhouette. "Where even is he?" she hissed, looking up and down the empty corridor. "He wouldn't just leave her in the room alone unless they were... I don't know, doing something more than just math."

Yujin didn't answer, her gaze fixed on the "Do Not Disturb" sign that seemed to mock them. The unfairness of it stung more than she cared to admit. "Maybe he's just in the supply closet," she suggested, though her voice lacked conviction.

"In the dark? Please," Wonyoung scoffed.

They stood there before the sound of your footsteps approaching from the stairwell made them jump.

Suddenly, the heavy fire door at the end of the stairwell groaned open. The rhythmic, unmistakable sound of your dress shoes clicking against the hard floor began to echo through the hallway—steady, purposeful, and getting closer by the second.

"Shit, he's coming!" Wonyoung gasped, her cool exterior vanishing in an instant.

Without waiting for a response, she grabbed Yujin’s sleeve. The two of them spun on their heels and broke into a frantic speed-walk, their sneakers squeaking against the floor as they rounded the far corner into the South Hall. They disappeared from view just seconds before you turned into the corridor.

—

You arrived at the door, oblivious to the near-collision, and found the hallway empty. You fished your keys from your pocket, unlocked the door, and stepped back inside.

Yuna looked up from the corner table, her chin still resting on her hand. "That was a long five minutes, boss. Get caught up in a conversation?"

"No, just had to ask a teacher to open the door to the lounge." you replied, walking back to your desk. 

You reach under the desk, pulling out your heavy school bag and then walk to the corner to grab your tennis bag.

"I'm locking up," you said, your voice echoing slightly in the now-empty room. 

Yuna didn't look dismissed. Instead, she stood up with a rhythmic, easy grace, smoothing out her skirt before slinging her own bag over her shoulder. She walked right alongside you, not behind you, her presence assertive but not overbearing.

As you both begin to walk toward the exit, Wonyoung and Yujin peek out from the turn in the middle of the hall.

Wonyoung and Yujin were practically fused with the lockers, their breath hitched as they peered around the corner. From their view, they saw everything: the way Yuna matched your stride perfectly, her posture relaxed and startlingly intimate.

"Is she... walking with him?" Wonyoung whispered, her voice trembling. Her grip on the corner of the wall tightened, but she immediately glanced sideways at Yujin, her expression flickering with a sudden softness.

"Does he ever hang around after he's done with his work?" Yujin asked, her voice low and hollow. She watched as the two of you passed under a hallway light, the distance between you and Yuna looking far too small for a TA and a student.

Then, Yuna’s voice drifted back to them, clear and teasing.

"So," she said, tilting her head toward you. "You don't have practice for another half hour, and you're already done with the grading. What do you want to do? There’s still thirty minutes left."

The words drifted down the hall, making the two girls pause. Wonyoung pulled back behind the wall, leaning her head against the cool surface with a dry, frustrated exhale.

"Thirty minutes of free time," she muttered, her voice more annoyed than devastated. "And he’s spending it with her? On Thursday he definitely made it sound like he was going to be buried in work. That sign was pretty convincing."

"But I guess he finished early for Yuna," Yujin noted, her gaze dropping to the floor for a moment before she looked back up, her expression a mix of resignation and mild discomfort. It stung to see the "Do Not Disturb" rule get bent so easily, but she wasn't about to let it ruin her afternoon. To them, it felt like a bit of a snub; a door that had been firmly closed to the group but left slightly open for one person.

Wonyoung glanced at Yujin, checking her reaction with a subtle, sympathetic tilt of her head. She saw the flicker of unease in Yujin's eyes and straightened her blazer, letting out a small, huffing laugh. "Well, if he’s 'not busy' anymore, I’m curious to see just how far this special treatment goes."

You and Yuna started down the concrete staircase, the sound of your footsteps echoing in the enclosed space. The stairwell felt private, shielded from the prying eyes and ears in the main hallway above.

"I don't know," you replied, your voice losing its formal edge. "I wasn't really planning on spending the rest of my period with you."

You didn't say it to push her away. It was a rare, honest admission, a break from your usual calculated routine. You looked straight ahead as you descended, the weight of your tennis bag shifting against your shoulder, but there was a subtle looseness in your posture that suggested you weren't exactly rushing to get rid of her either.

The heavy fire door groaned as Wonyoung and Yujin slipped into the stairwell, moving as silently as they could. The concrete walls acted like a megaphone, carrying the voices from below right up to their ears.

"Well, life is full of surprises, isn't it?" Yuna’s voice drifted up, playful and echoing. "Besides, you're the one who told me to stay in the classroom alone. You basically kidnapped me."

Wonyoung froze, her hand hovering over the railing. Her eyes went wide, reflecting a mix of shock and pure indignation. Kidnapped? The word felt like a physical spark in the quiet stairwell. She looked over at Yujin. 

Beside her, Yujin shifted on her feet, a cold knot of discomfort tightening in her chest. The sheer casualness in Yuna’s tone suggested an intimacy that made the air in the hallway feel stifling. She looked away, feeling like an intruder on a conversation she was never meant to hear.

Just as the two girls began to creep down the first flight of stairs to get a better look, the bottom door clicked open.

You stepped out into the crisp afternoon air, the sun hitting your face. You didn't look back at the door as it swung shut, but you did glance at Yuna, who was trailing just a half-step behind you.

"I didn’t want to have the quizzes in my hand while walking next to you, Yuna. There's a difference," you corrected, though a faint, almost invisible tug at the corner of your mouth betrayed your amusement. You weren't about to admit that your "no distraction" rule was failing spectacularly.

Behind the exit door, Wonyoung and Yujin watched the two of you walk toward the open quad. They were close enough to see that ghost of a smile on your face, the one you apparently never wore in the halls.

"He's actually enjoying himself," Yujin whispered, her voice barely audible.

Wonyoung didn't answer. She just pushed the door open a crack, watching as you led Yuna away from the main campus traffic.

As you and Yuna stepped out of the building into the main courtyard, the atmosphere shifted instantly. The quad was far from empty, and the sight of you walking side-by-side with one of the school's most pretty girls acted like a lightning rod.

"Is that him?" a girl whispered, nudging her friend. "And Yuna? I thought he didn't even talk to students outside of class."

The murmurs followed you like a low hum. You kept your gaze fixed forward, your expression neutral, though you were acutely aware of the eyes on your back.

"I need to grab something to eat before practice," you said, your voice low enough that only she could hear. "Can we head to the store?"

"Sure, whatever you want," Yuna replied

You led the way to the small convenience shop just outside the school gates. Inside, the bell chimed as you walked to the refrigerated section. You picked up a pre-made sandwich, simple, efficient, and quick. Turning to Yuna, you caught her watching you with a curious expression.

"Do you want anything?" you asked.

"No," she replied, her voice uncharacteristically soft. "I'm not hungry."

You paid and began the long walk back toward the athletic wing. Since you still had twenty minutes to spare, you chose the perimeter path, the scenic route that bypassed the crowded cafeteria. The silence between you was surprisingly comfortable until you unwrapped the sandwich and took a bite.

Yuna watched you, her eyes trailing the movement of your hand. "Can I have a bite?" she asked suddenly, her voice tilting with a hint of a flirtation.

You slowed your pace, looking down at the sandwich and then back at her. A month ago, you hadn’t even known her name; a week ago, she was just another face in the room. Even now, after this strange afternoon, you weren't exactly close.

"Fine," you muttered reluctantly. The sandwich was already sliced into two neat triangles—perfectly symmetrical, perfectly separate. To you, it was the logical solution. Letting her take a direct bite from your half felt unnecessary and, more importantly, far too personal for two people who were essentially still strangers.

You hold out the other half to her.

"No," Yuna said suddenly, stopping in her tracks. She looked at the sandwich and then up at you with a playful, expectant glint in her eyes. "I don't want a whole piece. I just want a bite."

"Just take the other half, Yuna," you insisted, lifting it out the tinfoil. You held it out to her, your expression fixed in its usual professional mask. "It’s already cut. It’s easier and less messy."

Yuna’s face immediately fell. She looked at the half in your hand, then back at the sandwich in yours, her lower lip pouting out in a visible display of disappointment. She clearly wanted the "share a bite" moment, not the "other half" moment.

"You're no fun," she mumbled, but she took the piece anyway, biting it with a dramatic, exaggerated sigh of defeat.

Behind the corner of the gymnasium, Wonyoung and Yujin were huddled together, eyes wide.

"He shared his food," Yujin whispered, her voice trembling. "He just... gave her half his sandwich."

"He’s still letting her follow him," Wonyoung added, her brow furrowed as she watched Yuna lean against the fence with such ease. "Why is he even letting her follow him all the way here?"

She looked at Yujin and saw the quiet discomfort on her friend's face. Wonyoung’s irritation shifted into a weary sort of protective frustration. She didn't want to stand there and analyze Yuna's "victory" anymore.

"Whatever," Wonyoung sighed, pulling Yujin back from the edge of the wall. She adjusted her bag, her tone turning brisk to shake off the mood. "Let him give away his food. We're wasting our time standing here in the dirt. Let’s just go to practice."

The two girls turned away and headed toward the gymnasium.

—

The afternoon sun was still bright as you and Yuna walked toward the athletic wing. The silence was comfortable, at least on her end, as she maintained that effortless, steady stride right beside you.

"So," Yuna started, her voice casual as she glanced at the bag where you’d tucked the rest of your materials. "Since I went through the trouble of ignoring your very scary sign, are you going to tell me how I did? Give me a hint. Did I pass?"

You didn't slow your pace, keeping your eyes on the path ahead. "I can't tell you that, Yuna. You’re not supposed to know your grade before it’s officially posted."

"Aw c’mon" she repeated with a small, amused huff. "You and your rules. Come on, I saw you grading them. You have to remember mine. Was it over 90?"

You stopped in the middle of the path and finally looked at her, shifting your gear bag. "Actually, I couldn't tell you even if I wanted to. Your paper wasn't in the stack I graded today."

Yuna blinked, her confident smirk faltering for a fraction of a second. "What? Why not?"

"I think mine was only the top section of the alphabet," you noted, continuing your walk toward the courts. "Ms. Kwon probably kept the rest. Since you weren’t in my pile, I never even saw your quiz."

She let out a short, dry laugh, regaining her composure as you reached the perimeter of the tennis courts. She stopped at the gate, leaning against the fence with her usual effortless, cool posture. Even without the answer she wanted, she didn't seem particularly bothered—just amused by the situation.

Yuna chuckled, tossing her hair back as she looked you over. "And here I thought I was special," she said, tilting her head with a playful, mock-disappointed sigh." 

As you approached the tennis courts she offered a slow, deliberate wave, her eyes gleaming. "Go on then, get to your practice. Good luck! Fighting!"

"Bye, Yuna," you replied, finally stepping onto the court.

"See you tomorrow," she called out, already turning to head back toward the main building with a confident swing in her step.

"Wait, was that actually Yuna dropping you off?" your friend Minho asked, his voice a mix of genuine confusion and disbelief. He walked over with his racket in hand, looking past you at her retreating figure. "How did that even happen? I walked past the classroom earlier and saw that 'Do Not Disturb' sign. I figured you were locked in there like a hermit."

He nudged your shoulder with his elbow, a teasing grin spreading across his face. "Is our star player finally getting a girlfriend?"

You let out a weary sigh, dropping your bag onto the bench and reaching for your racket. "What, no. She just kept following me. I told her I was busy, but she just sat down and wouldn’t take no for an answer. I couldn't exactly throw her out."

Minho laughed, tossing a ball into the air and catching it. "She just kept following you? Right. Because that happens to all of us."

—

The heavy double doors of the gymnasium groaned open as Wonyoung and Yujin walked inside. The air was thick with the rhythmic thud of basketballs and the sharp scent of floor wax. Students were scattered across the bleachers, changing shoes and chatting before the coach arrived.

Wonyoung scanned the crowd, her eyes landing on a familiar figure by the equipment rack. "Hey, Karina!" she called out, pulling a reluctant Yujin along.

Karina looked up, a playful glint in her eyes as she watched them approach. "Cutting it a bit close today, aren't you? Coach is going to have us doing laps if we aren't ready in two minutes."

"We got held up," Wonyoung said, trying to sound casual as she leaned against a nearby bench. She lowered her voice slightly. "Hey, you know y/n right? He’s our TA for math"

Beside her, Yujin’s head snapped up. She looked at Wonyoung with wide, panicked eyes, her face flushing as she realized where this was going. She gave a small, desperate shake of her head, silently pleading with Wonyoung to drop it before things got even more awkward.

Karina didn't miss the look. She leaned back against the rack, crossing her arms with a knowing smirk. "Of course I know him. He’s one of my best friends. Why the sudden interest, Wonyoung? Looking for some extra credit?"

Wonyoung ignored Yujin’s frantic signaling, leaning in closer to Karina and lowering her voice. "Not exactly. I'm just curious, you know? Like, does he even have an ideal type? Or is he actually into anyone right now? He’s always so locked in and professional, it’s like he doesn't even realize girls exist. Oh, maybe he’s dating someone already. Is he?"

Yujin felt the blood rush to her face so quickly she thought she might actually faint. Wonyoung, stop. Please, just stop, she screamed internally. What are you even saying right now? You sound so obvious! And now Karina is going to tell him, and he’s going to know we were asking. She squeezed her eyes shut for a second, her mind racing with the image of you sitting at your desk, calm and composed, while Wonyoung acted like a desperate detective. We look so pathetic right now, she thought, her fingers knotting together.

Suddenly, Karina’s eyes lit up, and she leaned forward, her face breaking into a wide, excited grin. She practically vibrated with energy as she looked between the two of them. "Wait, wait! Are you actually interested in him? Oh my god, I can totally see it! You and him?" Karina gushed, her voice echoing a little too loudly for Yujin’s comfort.

Wonyoung immediately straightened up, waving her hands in a frantic time-out gesture. "No! No, no, no. It’s not for me, Karina. I'm definitely not interested in him like that," she insisted, her voice sharp with denial.

Karina’s grin didn't fade; it just morphed into something more analytical. She shifted her gaze, her eyes landing briefly on Yujin before looking back at Wonyoung. She leaned in closer, her voice dropping to a low, playful hum. "Okay... so if it’s not for you, then who is it for? Because you don't just ask about a guy's ideal type for a stranger."

Yujin felt like she was standing under a spotlight. She kept her head down, her heart hammering against her ribs so hard she was sure they could hear it. Wonyoung, just walk away. Don't say anything else. Please.

Wonyoung caught Yujin's panicked vibe and gave a small, mysterious smirk to cover it up. She adjusted the strap of her gym bag, looking Karina right in the eye. "I can't tell you yet. It’s... a work in progress. I’ll give you a hint later."

Karina’s gaze shifted. She didn't look at Wonyoung anymore; instead, her eyes settled on Yujin. She watched the way Yujin was practically trying to merge with the floorboards, her ears tinted a deep crimson and her hands twisting the fabric of her uniform.

Karina was smart, she hadn't become one of your best friends by being oblivious. A slow, knowing look crossed her face. She didn't say anything out loud, but the way her head tilted as she studied Yujin’s sheer internal crisis said everything. She had clearly connected the dots between Wonyoung's "confidential inquiry" and the girl currently vibrating with embarrassment next to her.

"I see," Karina murmured, her voice softened but laced with a heavy dose of amusement. She reached out and patted Yujin’s shoulder as she walked past toward the center of the court. "Good luck with your 'work in progress,' Wony."

Then, she leaned in slightly toward Yujin, her eyes sparkling with a mix of mischief and genuine support. "And don't worry too much, Yujin," she whispered, giving her a playful grin.

Yujin let out a shaky breath she hadn't realized she was holding, finally looking up as Karina walked away. "Wonyoung," she hissed, her voice a mix of a sob and a growl. "Now she thinks I like him!"

Wonyoung didn't look bothered at all. She began walking toward the locker room to drop off her extra gear, her pace casual as she glanced back at her friend.

"Don’t you like him? When will you finally admit it?" she asked, her voice stretching into a long, whiny trail. She slumped her shoulders forward, looking at Yujin with a dramatic pout. "Come on, Yujin, admit it already! My ears are going to fall off if I have to keep listening to you deny it!"

"But, I don't!" Yujin shot back, though the heat in her face told a completely different story. She hurried to keep up, her sneakers squeaking against the polished floor.

"So why were you acting like that when I was talking to Karina?" Wonyoung asked, raising a skeptical eyebrow as she pushed open the locker room door. "You looked like you were about to pass out."

"Because you’re acting like I like him!" Yujin whispered-yelled, looking around to make sure the other girls weren't eavesdropping by the lockers. "You’re making it weird!"

Wonyoung let out a light laugh and tossed her bag onto the bench. "How do you know I was talking about you? I never said your name. It could’ve been someone else."

Yujin opened her mouth to argue, but she stalled, realizing Wonyoung had technically kept it vague—even if it was blindingly obvious to anyone with eyes. She groaned, covering her face with her hands for a split second.

Wonyoung just laughed. "It’s fine Yujin. We’re her friends. She's his friend. It’s perfect, besides it’s better to have her on our side than Yuna’s."