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leejenowrld · 4 months

Text

ghostin’ (two)

pairing na jaemin x y/n (fem)

word count 17k

genre smut, fluff, angst, situationship vibes, college au

chapter summary you and jaemin grow closer, the sex is really fucking good and everyone finds out. you begin trusting him more than you ever thought you would but amidst the bliss, you wonder: is it too good to be true?

one | two | three | four

chapter warnings jaemin and reader moments, so many jaem and reader moments, jaemin aftercare, hot and mature jaemin, jaemin fingers reader under the table, jaemin obbession with readers thighs, jaemin cockwarming moments, personal talks, jaemin fucks you doggy style against the railings and everyone sees. you ride jaemin in his car, nevertheless inspired lollipop kiss, reader x jeno x haerin sexual moments, girl moments🫶, jeno and reader moments, soft jaemin, soft reader, please they’re literally in love, appearances from other '00 liners, explicit language, swearing, mention of drugs, smoking and alcohol, getting high, ass slapping, dirty talk, big cock jaemin, soft dom jaemin, introverted, chill, emotionally intelligent, laid back, mysterious jaemin, jaemin with a darker side, a very sexy jaemin, black haired jaemin, jaemin who has no flaws

author note this chapter is heavily inspired by the friends episode ‘the one where everyone finds out’ keep that in mind! also a massive thank you to @siordior for her help with smut scenes and just a few scenes in general 🥰 she was a massive help.

1/6 of the campus heartbreaker series, read here

“This isn’t your bed.” Jaemin whispers, his voice a deep, resonant hum that sends vibrations against your skin, enveloping you in a cocoon of warmth.

“Um– yeah. It’s Haerin’s. You reply, your consciousness surfacing slowly, pulling you out of the remnants of sleep. As sobriety dawns, fragments of the previous night cascade through your mind, each memory vivid and startling.

The shock of realizing that you, after firmly vowing to allow yourself to heal and to avoid intimacy with another man, had found yourself with Na Jaemin of all people, hits you like a wave. Yet, as you lie there, wrapped in his arms, a sense of comfort envelops you. Despite the surprise and the internal promises you’ve made, being here, in this embrace, just feels inexplicably right.

You remain naked and on top of him, cuddled within the circle of his arms with your head comfortably resting against his chest. Gently, he kisses your forehead. With a smooth motion, he turns the two of you around, his arms enveloping you protectively. He gives you a sweet smile, and there’s something in his eyes, in the way he looks at you, that makes you melt.

He gently removes his cock away from you inside of you. There’s a moment filled with heavy sighs and the soft sound of breathing, a testament to the intensity just shared. Your mouth waters as you see all the juices and all the sticky residue, you’re still so wet and Haerin’s bed sheets are stained. He’s got cum all over him and you’re sure you do too.

“Why do you let me fuck you on Haerin’s bed?” He inquires with a hint of amusement in his voice.

You respond with a casual shrug, “I couldn’t be bothered to take the extra steps. Besides, Haerin and Jeno have pretty much done it in every corner of my room.”

“Same here.” He chuckles. Changing the subject, he adds more thoughtfully, “Anyway, I need to get you cleaned up. I’m sorry I didn’t do it last night, you just fell asleep in seconds and my dick was still inside of you so—”

You nod, cheeks warm with a shy redness, murmuring, “Okay, yeah, thanks.” He steps away, promising to return soon. Alone, you gaze upwards, lost in the patterns above. In this quiet moment, you think about what you’ve just done and how you feel better than you would’ve thought.

You hear the sound of running water, signalling his return. He enters.

The sight of him takes your breath away. He’s naked and you truly can’t deal with the sight. He’s sexy. His cock looks insane and massive, you can’t believe it was inside you for the whole night. His shirtless form reveals a toned chest. The soft light plays across his skin, highlighting the contours of his physique. His strong shoulders and defined abs speak of strength, yet there’s a gentleness in the way he moves. You find yourself captivated, tracing the lines of his body with your eyes, feeling a warmth spread through you. The memory of your shared night makes your heart race.

He feels you staring and responds with a playful smirk. “Can you walk?”

You shake your head, your thighs still weak and your pussy still burning. Suddenly, he leans down and scoops you up in his arms, eliciting a surprised yelp from you.

“Let me put clothes on first!” You protest, feeling a bit shy in his embrace.

He chuckles lightly, “But we’re about to have a bath, aren’t we?”

“Yeah, but –”

He cuts you off playfully. “You’re really shy about me seeing you naked when I pounded into your ass the whole night long, spanked you, spit in you and choked you?”

You blush, memories of the passionate night flooding back. As he carries you to the shower, you feel his strong grip on your ass and it is so tight. You could swear that his hand was gripping your ass in your sleep.

Gently, he sets you down in the warm bath, the water soothing against your skin. You look up at him, and for a second, the world pauses. There’s something in the way he looks at you, a tenderness in his eyes that makes your heart flutter. His kindness, so evident in his every action, overwhelms you.

You’re not sure what this emotion is, but it compels you. With a soft whine, you reach up, your hands gripping his shoulders, pulling him towards you. Your fingers find the cool metal of his chain, drawing him even closer. When your lips meet, it’s a fiery, passionate kiss, full of the emotions swirling within you both.

Sensing your desire, he joins you in the bath, the water rippling around you. You move to sit on his lap, facing him. You’re now close enough to see every detail in his face—the soft hue of his skin, a stark contrast against the dark hair that frames his features. His eyes, like pools of enigma, shadowed and deep, hold a glimmer of playfulness. His jawline is sharp, giving him a chiselled look.

There’s a comfort in his embrace, his arms encircling you gently, making you feel cherished and safe. The water laps quietly against you both but you smirk as you feel something prod against your thigh. “Really?” You question, his hardness makes you feel heat.

“Yeah.” He responds nonchalantly. “There’s a hot naked girl sitting on my thighs and you don’t think I’ll be hard?” He questions, his voice a low whisper as you shake your head and jab his chest, your cheeks burning into the pinkiest of shades

“Do you want me to wash your hair?” He offers in a voice soft as the steam around you.

“Please.” You reply, feeling the warmth of anticipation.

His fingers are tender as they brush through your hair, handling each strand with care and a precision that speaks of his attentiveness. You can’t resist teasing, “I bet I’m not the first girl’s hair you’ve washed.”

He just shakes his head, a knowing smirk on his lips, as he continues with his gentle ministrations.

Then, with a delicate touch, he begins to wash your skin, lathering it with scented body wash that fills the air with a fragrant blend. His hands move with purpose, massaging your joints, easing away any tension. Softly wiping away the residue inside your folds and on your thighs. His lips find your neck and cheek, kissing you softly, as sweet whispers escape him, blending with the steam and water.

After the bath, he wraps you in the softness of one of his shirts. The fabric smells of him, a captivating blend of woodsy and citrus notes. Standing there, you both exchange awkward glances, the air charged with the electricity of unspoken words.

The sides of his lips curve up in a smirk as he revels in the silence. “You wanna ride my cock again?” His voice is a low rumble, eyes searching yours for an answer.

“I should get going.” You reply, nearly choking on your words. “And you should too.”

“Thank you for tonight.” You say, a note of sincerity in your words. As he turns to leave, you suddenly grasp his hand, pulling him back. His eyes narrow in confusion just before you roughly push him away.

“Haerin, Hana and Jeno are home.” You whisper urgently, their loud voices echoing up the walls. “They cannot know about this. Do not make a noise.”

“Y/N!” Haerin’s voice cuts through the silence, her fists pounding on the door.

How did she know you were home? You press a finger to your lips, hoping silence will dispel her suspicion. Relief washes over you for the locked door, yet her knocking persists, each thud a hammer to your calm.

“Open up! I know you’re in here.” She insists.

You finally yield, opening the door to Haerin’s wide eyes, Jeno’s unusual silence, and Hana’s evident fatigue. “What the hell are you doing in my room? Did you sleep here all night?” Haerin’s eyebrow arches accusingly.

“I – um – yeah.” You admit, each syllable heavy with a truth you couldn’t cloak. Deception has never been your strong suit, especially not with them.

“Why?” She probes, her suspicion a tangible force that seemed to push the walls of the room closer.

“I missed you guys.”’ You manage to say, the lie smooth but tasting of ash on your tongue.

Hana’s eyes widen, a playful note to her voice as she coos. “Aw, did you masturbate?”

The question catches you off guard, and you nearly cough. “No?” Your answer is more of a question, an ineffectual attempt to deflect.

Her gaze sharpens, the intensity in her eyes almost accusatory. “You sure… you have that afterglow. Wait, holy shit did you fuck —”

Before she can finish, you cut in, a bit too sharply, “I spent the night alone, got myself off, okay?” The words are a barricade, hastily erected to keep their probing eyes from the truth.

“In my bed?” Haerin’s frown deepens, her scepticism a heavy cloak around her shoulders.

“I was drunk…” Your defense is a whisper, dissolving like mist in the growing light.

Jeno’s voice, unexpectedly, cuts through. “It smells like Jaemin in here. Isn’t that his shirt?” His observation is astute, his smirk a silent challenge to your crumbling façade.

Your heart stutters, racing to keep up with the lies. “He gave it to me at the party after I spilled a drink,” you say, hoping the half-truth is convincing.

“Hmm, sure.” Jeno drawls, unconvinced.

“And you have bruises on your legs.” Haerin adds, her gaze slicing through your defenses like a blade.

“I fell in the shower.” You repeat, grateful that your hair covered the hickies he had left on your neck and chest.

They finally leave you alone a moment later. Their departure brings a reprieve, a moment to breathe. Jaemin’s smirk reappears, as if he knows the weight of the secret you both carry. His hands, warm and reassuring, cup your face. “Will I see you again?” He asks, his voice a low murmur filled with promise.

“Yeah.” You whisper, your smile a mix of complicity and hope. His kiss is a seal, passionate and deep—a silent vow that speaks of future encounters as he reluctantly parts from you.

Jaemin's smirk softens into a tender smile as he reaches out, his hands gently cradling your face. The contact is soft, his touch a soothing warmth against your skin, a silent promise of care.

The kiss concludes, leaving a lingering sense of longing as he steps back, his eyes holding yours for a moment longer. There's a silent exchange of emotion, a shared anticipation for what's to come. Then, with a final, soft look, he turns and walks away

SCENE 2

You find yourself at a bar for the night, ‘REPLAY127,’ commonly known as ‘127.’ It was a popular social hotspot for the students of Neo Tech University, who drank away all of their academic stress and relationship worries. It was always a scene with buzzed with chaos and drunk energy.

All of your friends are here and they’re all so loved up. There’s couples and love all around, smooching noises everywhere. Eric and Hana are in their own bubble. His arm around her as he whispers something into her ear, she lights up with a grin that speaks volumes about their feelings. You had thought their relationship was just a fling, but the depth of their connection is undeniable. You mentally remind yourself to check in with Hana later.

Xiaojun is unmistakably the player tonight, especially noticeable as he gets more drunk. Wandering around the bar, he’s openly flirting with girls and anyone willing to engage with him. His approach is direct and confident, marked by a clear intention to find someone’s bed to get in.

Your gaze shifts to Yangyang, Soobin, and Yeonjun, What’s going on with them? They’re all being overly affectionate with each other. Yeonjun was sitting in Soobins lap and making out with him and now he’s leaning over and making out with Yangyang as Soobin (you’re pretty sure) is fingering Yeonjun.

Nearby, Shotaro and Chaewon are holding hands, an unexpected sight. Wonbin, sitting by himself, nurses his drink with a solemn expression. His distant gaze and the tight grip on his glass indicate he’s not in the best of moods.

In one corner, Haerin is engrossed in her assignments, her fingers flying over the laptop keyboard, ignoring everything and everyone around her. Her manager keeps complaining about her to anyone who will listen. (yeah, she works here) According to Taeyong, “she’s lazy, doesn’t turn up on time, doesn’t know what she’s doing, makes a mess of everything” Haerin’s only response is a dismissive gesture in his direction and Jeno just stays by her side, smirking and drinking. He’s just happy to be here.

At least there’s Donghyuck, someone who can join you in the lonely hearts club. In stark contrast to the love around, he’s the loner of your group. He sits by himself, lost in his thoughts, with a joint in hand. He’s silent, a lone figure amidst the bustling energy of the bar.

Well you and Donghyuck aren’t completely alone in the lonely hearts club, there’s a third member, Jaemin.

Captured in the understated glow of the bar’s ambiance, he exudes a quiet magnetism. His hair, tousled to a perfect degree, frames a face that carries an expression of both concentration and alluring detachment. Sharp jawline and high cheekbones give his face a sculptural quality, softened only by the slight pout of his lips. His eyes, pensive and deep-set, seem to hold volumes of untold stories, inviting a second glance to unravel their mysteries. His hotness is not loud but lingering, like a whispered secret.

He’s sitting across from you, wearing that fucking grin, It’s subtle, just a slight upward curve of his lips, but it’s enough to send a shiver down your spine. His eyes hold a mischievous gleam, amused as he’s fingering you under the table.

It started off fairly innocent. His hand ventures under your skirt, a light brush at first. His fingers start to explore, tenderly caressing your thighs, occasionally squeezing gently. The cold metal of his rings creates a delightful contrast against the warmth of your skin, sending tingles up your spine.

You can’t help but smile back at him. The pretty little skirt you chose now feels like a perfect decision, especially seeing the way his eyes lit up when you first joined the table. His gaze was intense, filled with a dark passion that left you wondering about his thoughts, about what he might do to you next, about the unspoken promises lingering in his deep, enigmatic eyes.

Suddenly his fingers glide into your clit. It’s done so subtly, so casually, it’s almost imperceptible. His face remains nonchalant, perfectly composed. He’s fully engaged in the conversation around the table, acting as if he’s not finger fucking you.

Your walls tighten around him and you clench but his expression still remains unchanged, all he does is raise his eyebrow at you. It’s not fast at all, he doesn’t break eye contact with you as he rubs in small circles. His eyes, intense and captivating, hold your gaze. It’s hard to look away; his presence is magnetic, drawing you in despite your attempts to focus elsewhere.

Just when you feel yourself getting lost in the sensation, he abruptly stops, pulling his hand back. His eyes never leave yours, and there’s a hint of mystery in them. In a bold yet quiet gesture, he brings his finger, which are covered in your cum, to his lips and he licks them.

Your back arches slightly and your eyes roll back, you cannot believe how incredibly sexy this is. Caught off guard, a soft and involuntary moan escapes your lips, louder than intended. The noise momentarily attracts the attention of your friends at the table, and you feel a rush of heat to your cheeks, embarrassed but also exhilarated by the boldness of it all.

An immediate silence follows. Your friends' eyes are wide, filled with concern, as they all turn to look at you. All except for Jeno, who sports a proud smile, a reaction you find oddly out of place in the moment and wish you didn’t overlook it.

"Someone fuck my girl right now.” Haerin declares emphatically. Xiaojun volunteers without hesitation, nodding with a confident grin, rubbing his bulge and leaning up from the table, his hand held high.

You let out a laugh and shake your head at Xiaojun, the sound bright and clear against the quiet of the moment. As the laughter fades, you suddenly become aware of Jaemin’s gaze fixed on you, intense and singular. It washes over you like a spotlight, turning your laughter into a shy retreat. You feel a blush creeping up your cheeks and you instinctively try to hide it, looking down to escape the weight of his stare.

You glance away, seeking solace in the familiar faces around the table, but the heat of his gaze lingers, a silent echo of the connection you're both aware of. With a self-conscious smile, you gather your things, the laughter still hanging in the air as you stand.

“I’m gonna head out.” You announce to your friends, feeling the weight of the evening’s events.

“You’re not even drunk.” Hana whines, her words slurred from the alcohol. She’s visibly wasted, her usual vibrant energy replaced by a drunken lull. “If you go, I go.” She adds, trying to steady her speech.

You pause, contemplating staying a bit longer. Hana’s state makes you hesitant to leave; ensuring she gets home safely is important to you. As you weigh your options, Eric steps in, he shakes his head with a soft, understanding smile. “It’s okay, I’ve got her.” He assures you as he wraps his arms around Hana, pulling her close. He plants a gentle kiss on her forehead, a gesture full of affection and responsibility.

You can’t help but smile at the scene, a sense of relief washing over you. With Eric there, you know Hana is in good hands, her drunkenness safely managed. It’s comforting to see how well he takes care of her, a testament to the depth of their connection. With that assurance, you feel at ease to leave, knowing your friend is safe and cared for.

"I'll drive you.” Xiaojun offers first, flashing a smile in your direction.

"You can't even drive.” Yangyang retorts, casting a doubtful look at him.

Xiaojun scratches his neck, seemingly questioning his own state. How high was he? The conversation, however, takes a swift turn as Jaemin stands up. His gaze locks with yours, intense and unwavering, sending an unexpected shiver through you. "It's fine, I got you.” He says confidently.

The silence that travels around the table is palpable. “I got it.” He claims he meant.

But Xiaojun persists only for Jaemin to shake his head. “Bro, it's fine, keep trying to fuck Yunjin.” He says with a chuckle.

"It's just a 5-minute walk, I can go myself –" You start to protest, but the chorus of objections from your friends drowns you out.

They all yell at you, so many voices rise in unison, effectively cutting off your protests. Jeno bluntly tells you to stop talking, while Xiaojun calls you an idiot for even considering walking alone so late. Donghyuck, who usually maintains a ghostly silence, surprises you by chiming in with a disapproving tut and a sharp remark, moving out of his seat to flick your forehead with his finger. You wince, holding the area with a pout. Your eyes widen in surprise at their unanimous concern. Realizing there's no winning this argument, you accept their decision with a resigned sigh.

You widen your eyes and huff, admitting defeat, you see no point in arguing further. Jaemin is smirking at the sight of you, his gaze briefly dropping to your legs. You notice the way his eyes linger there, he smirks at the cum that drips down your thighs, you’re sighing at his touch.

Resigned to the fact that Jaemin will be escorting you, you gather your belongings, ready to leave the warmth and noise of the bar for the quiet of the night, accompanied by someone who seems to stir a myriad of emotions within you.

As Jaemin’s hand brushes against your back, a shiver runs through you, and your breath hitches in response. His voice, a low and deep whisper close to your ear, is barely audible over the din of the bar. “I’m bringing the car, stay at the front.” He instructed quietly.

You nod subtly, and as you turn to leave, you catch Hana’s eyes briefly peeking up, but she’s too caught up in her own world to give it much thought. A wave of relief washes over you, grateful that your friends, immersed in their own drunken revelries, haven’t noticed the discreet exchanges between you and Jaemin.

Standing near the entrance, you wait, lost in your thoughts about the night and the subtle interactions with Jaemin. Suddenly, you’re brought back to the present as Haerin and Jeno approach. Haerin, with a bright, infectious smile, latches onto your arm in a friendly embrace.

"Me and Jeno are going to that rooftop sushi restaurant." She announces. "Come with us!!!" She urges, her enthusiasm evident.

"No…" You shake your head immediately, already having made up your mind. "I’m going home, Jaemin’s gonna drive me.”

"Just come!!!" The plea comes again, more insistent this time.

You turn to them, opting for honesty. "I don’t like hanging out with you guys. Last time, you both just sat munching on each other while I was there just munching on my sushi.” You explain with a light-hearted tone, trying to convey your point without sounding too harsh. Your words are met with a mix of laughter and mock offense, but they convey your desire for a quiet end to the evening.

"Come on, baby.” Jeno whispers softly, extending his hand to Haerin. They start heading towards the exit, their exit unhindered even as Haerin’s manager, Taeyong, calls out to her. He scolds her, reminding her that her shift isn't over, his tone stern and warning. Taeyong even goes as far as to mention that this could be her last chance before he considers firing her. But Haerin and Jeno don’t seem deterred; they continue on their way, leaving Taeyong's warnings behind.

You wave goodbye to them, a small smile on your face, but then they abruptly stop and turn back towards you. Confusion furrows your brow as you narrow your eyes, trying to figure out what's going on. It takes you a moment, but then it dawns on you why they've stopped.

“Y/N.” Comes the voice, unmistakably his.

The moment you hear it, your heart skips a beat, then seems to stop altogether. It’s a voice that, despite time and distance, still holds power over you, a power that unsettles the very core of your being. Time feels like it grinds to a halt, each second stretching out interminably.

You turn, feeling a wave of anxiety surging through you. His eyes meet yours, and there's an unmistakable cockiness in his gaze, a stark contrast to the sadness that fills your own. He looks at you with an air of overconfidence, as if the past, with all its pain and turmoil he caused, was just a trivial chapter in his life.

As he looks into your eyes, you feel an overwhelming sense of vulnerability, as if his gaze alone has the power to make you feel small and insignificant. There, with him, are Yeeun, Yeji, and Mia, a sight that leaves you baffled and reeling.

What strikes you most is the casualness with which Mia kisses his neck, right there in front of you, as he maintains eye contact. The sight of hickies marking his skin only adds to the surreal nature of the encounter. "How have you been?" He asks with a smile that, despite everything, still manages to stir the familiar flutter of butterflies in your stomach.

Words fail you, your throat dry and constricted. Inside, you're grappling with a whirlwind of emotions - disbelief, hurt, confusion. It's hard to focus, hard to think straight, your breath shallow and your head spinning. The situation feels unreal, almost dreamlike in its absurdity.

"Have you missed me? Do you wanna stay with us tonight? We’re gonna drink and then –" Hyunjin continues, smiling as if oblivious to the impact of his words. Your mouth falls open in shock. How could he be so nonchalant, so insensitive? He's surrounded by three girls and he’s asking you this? You feel sick as you see his arm casually draped around Mia's waist, while Yeji continues to be affectionate with him.

You glance at Yeeun and notice she’s keeping her distance, her expression unreadable. The complexity of the situation, the brazenness of his invitation, and the hurt it evokes in you, all combine to leave you feeling sick to your stomach. It's a moment that starkly highlights the difference between your worlds now - his, seemingly carefree and indulgent; yours, weighed down by the remnants of a past that refuses to fully let go.

Instinctively, you turn around and almost jump when you see Jaemin. He arrived quietly, almost blending into the background, his presence as subtle as a shadow. You wonder how and when he got there. His eyes are only fixed in one direction.

Yeeun and Jaemin are locked in an intense gaze, their eyes communicating a storm of unspoken words and emotions. It's a connection so deep and palpable that it makes you feel like an outsider, intruding on a private moment. The intensity in Jaemin's eyes is still and profound, conveying a depth of shared history and understanding with Yeeun that is foreign to you.

Hyunjin's voice pulls you back, "Baby? Is that a yes? I know you missed it. Remember when we were together, we’d have more sex than everyone, we’d have more threesomes than -'' His words are crude, stirring a mix of anger and hurt within you.

"Don't you fucking dare.” You whisper, barely audible. Your voice is a mix of defiance and vulnerability, and you're not even sure he heard you.

Why do you feel this urge to nod in agreement, to say yes, to gravitate towards him despite the fact you know he’s gonna break your heart again? It’s a stark reminder of the complex, tangled feelings you still harbour for him. This internal struggle is a vivid reflection of how deeply you’ve been affected, how the remnants of what once was still hold a powerful sway over you. It’s frustrating and confusing, this pull towards someone who has caused you so much pain.

In a swift, protective gesture, Jeno steps forward, positioning himself between you and Hyunjin. He reaches out, his touch firm yet reassuring on your arm, as he gently pulls you behind him, ensuring you're out of harm's way. Then, with equal care, he tightens his grip on Haerin's hand, guiding her to stand behind him as well, forming a human shield with his body.

"What the fuck?" Jeno's voice cuts through the tension, his words loud and filled with genuine readiness to confront Hyunjin. "I’m gonna count to 10 and then –" He warns, his tone indicating he's serious and prepared to escalate if needed.

Hyunjin, however, just laughs in response, seemingly unfazed by Jeno's protective stance or his threats. The laughter is dismissive, a clear sign that Jeno's words aren't intimidating him or causing him to reconsider his actions. "Y/N –" Hyunjin calls out again, extending his arms towards you, as if expecting you to come to him willingly.

However before you can even think, Jaemin steps forward and his arm wraps around your back with a surprising gentleness. There's an immediate sense of security that envelops you. Your previously racing heartbeat begins to steady, syncing with the calm assurance emanating from him. When you look into his eyes, there's a depth of trust and understanding reflected back at you, a silent promise that he's there for you.

Your breathing, which had been shallow and uneven, gradually relaxes. The tension that had gripped you slowly ebbs away, replaced by a comforting ease. A soft smile forms on both your faces, a shared moment of relief and connection amidst the chaos. You find yourself naturally leaning into him, drawn by the warmth and safety of his presence. The eye contact between you is intense yet intimate.

But it's unexpected – this protective side of Jaemin, especially towards you. The intensity in his gaze as he stares down Hyunjin is unmistakable, and there's something undeniably compelling about it. It's as if in this moment, he's shedding layers of his usual composure, revealing a fiercer, more protective side that you hadn’t seen before.

"Come on, Y/N, let's go.” Jaemin says, his voice steady and resolute. His eyes lock onto yours, a silent assurance in their depths, as he takes your hand in his. With a gentle but firm grip, he guides you away, deliberately turning both of your backs to Hyunjin, dismissing him without a word.

In this simple action, Jaemin makes a statement – he's not interested in giving Hyunjin any more attention or power in this situation. His focus is solely on you, ensuring your well-being and comfort.

SCENE 3

You shuffle in his lap, finding a comfortable position with your legs on either side. His hands rest gently on your thighs. Your lips meet his in a soft, tender kiss. As the kiss continues, it grows in intensity, each of you responding to the other’s rhythm. Your breathing becomes heavier. Open mouthed kisses which are a mix of tenderness and a growing sense of urgency.

The kiss deepens, a messy exploration of each other's tongues that leaves you panting and wanting more. You can hear the soft click as he locks the car, ensuring your privacy and safety. He then adjusts his seat back slightly, creating more space for you both.

"Just wanna get high and fuck you.” You murmur, the words muffled against his lips. Both of you speak between kisses, your words interspersed with passionate, eager kisses that convey your impatience.

He smirks in response, a playful glint in his eyes. "So desperate for me, baby? Couldn't wait five minutes until we were in the house?" His tone teases, laced with affection. His kisses trailing down to your neck.

The second you sat in the car, you were so incredibly horny. You were pressing soft kisses to his neck and whispering to him about how sexy he was and how much he turned you on. The only appropriate reaction after Jaemin’s display in front of Hyunjin. All he did was chuckle and tell you to be patient.

You obviously weren't patient as now you’re gonna ride his cock in the car.

He’s got a condom now.

Your eyes widen and you pout. “It felt good when we fucked without it.”

He just laughs and shakes his head, putting it over his cock.

“You know I literally don’t get pregnant, me and Hyunjin – well you know, we used to do it without protection all the time.” You ramble and he sighs, smashing his lips against yours, quite literally kissing you to get you to shut up. His hands find their way underneath your skirt and he’s rubbing your thighs in small circles.

With a heavy moan, you sit down on his cock and begin fucking yourself on his cock, you begin a steady rise and fall, his hands tight on your hips which guides you. You’re pressed against his chest, your lip biting and eyes screwing in pleasure as you move up and down his cock, pretty noises spilling from your mouth.

You quite simply fuck yourself dumb on his cock. you ride him at such a rapid and fast pace, it has him in awe. Heavy breathing and moans fill the car, his mouth is wide open as he admires the view above him. your screwing your face in pleasure, the steady rise and fall on his cock, how tight your pussy feels. It's driving him crazy.

"Ahhh, fuck, feels - feels soooo good," you pant in Jaemin's ear, your voice laced with pleasure as he continues to drive you wild with desire.

His cock reaches a spot that makes you whine, his cock driving deeper and deeper inside your walls. “You’re so fucking tight.” He hisses in your ear, teeth gritted and eyes screwing in pleasure

You start getting tired, your body becoming heavy with desire as Jaemin continues his sensual assault. Your legs feel weak, and you begin to lose the strength to hold yourself up. Sensing your fatigue, he continues, he doesn't want to stop. He shifts his position slightly, taking more of your weight, and begins thrusting into you with even more determination.

“Baby, you were so eager to ride my cock, and now you can't even ride it properly?" he teases in a husky voice, his fingers digging into your hips as he continues his relentless pace, his voice dripping with desire.

SCENE 4, STUDYING, COCKWARMING + OPENING UP

You find yourself sitting on his cock, a lot.

Jaemin tends to always be buried in his university assignments and projects, his attention riveted to the screen, seemingly oblivious to the world around him, to you. You, craving his attention, couldn’t help but voice your dissatisfaction, a whine escaping you about his apparent neglect.

“Sit on my lap.” He suggested, without looking up from his work, his voice calm yet firm, a surprising solution to your complaint.

You looked up at him, your eyes wide with a mix of surprise and shyness. It was an unexpected invitation, one that caught you off guard. Yet, he didn’t waver, repeating himself more clearly, his voice taking on an irresistibly attractive and sexy edge, “Come and sit on my lap then. Don’t just sit there being needy, do something about it.”

His words sent a thrill through you, a mix of anticipation and excitement. You found yourself biting your bottom lip, a smile creeping onto your face despite the fluttering in your stomach. With a casual ease, he pushed his chair back further with his feet, creating space, and patted his lap as a clear invitation.

Standing up, you prepared to close the distance between you but as you took a step forward, your breath hitched audibly. Jaemin began to unbuckle his belt and unbutton a few buttons from his shirt. It froze you in your tracks. His eyes, intense and unwavering, never left yours, their depth pulling you in, making you squirm under his gaze. There you stood, momentarily paralyzed by the intensity of the moment, He smirks up at you, knowing and slightly teasing.

His cock is literally out, he’s running his hands up and down the length and he’s smiling at you so prettily, you hold the eye contact and give him a shy smile but when you look down, you see a monster length staring at you so the contrast slaps you in the face like whiplash.

"Sit down then, pretty girl.” He urged softly, almost whispering, his words imbued with an affectionate warmth that made your heart flutter.

You nod slowly, anticipation bubbling within as Jaemin's hands find their way to the delicate skin under your skirt, you let out a small whimper when he grips your hips gently yet securely. He pulls your underwear down slightly and then carefully pulls you closer, situating you on his cock.

You don’t know what this was but you didn’t expect this, to be sitting on him, on his cock, just staying still, there was no movement, just the warmth of being close. Your walls just sucked his cock in and it was such a tight, warm fit.

His focus returned to his studies, but now with hums of concentration and satisfaction. You sitting there on his cock, so prettily, clearly helped him with his work

As you watch Jaemin type away, his eyebrows furrowing in concentration, you're struck by the captivating intensity of his focus. He's the epitome of handsome, with sharp, defined features that are softened by the gentle curve of his lips, concentrated into a line of determination. His eyes, usually warm and inviting, now reflect the deep pools of his thoughts, flickering under long, dark lashes with every word he commits to the screen. The way his hair falls slightly over his forehead, just a bit tousled, adds a boyish charm to his otherwise structured appearance. The ambient light casts shadows that accentuate his strong jawline and the thoughtful crease between his brows, making him look like he’s been carved from marble, yet animated with the warm flush of life.

That’s when it dawns on you; despite the time you've spent together, there’s so much you don’t know about him. The basics, like what he studies, his favourite color, his favourite tv show. Sure, you knew his favourite sex position and kinks but that was completely different. You didn’t know him on a personal level.

He notices your intense gaze, the way your eyes are fixed on his features, not missing a single detail. There's a flicker of something in his eyes, a mixture of amusement and curiosity, as he meets your stare. It's as if he's inviting you to look deeper, beyond the surface, to discover the layers that make up who he truly is.

“You want something, baby?” You feel his voice vibrate against your chest, a low hum that makes you make the smallest movement on his cock but he just groan and shakes his head at you, his hands gripping your thighs and making you stay still.

Your hands play with his earrings, signalling your growing curiosity. "I’m just curious… about you.” You admit, looking for a deeper connection.

He laughs softly, open and encouraging. "Yeah? What do you wanna know?"

“What’s your major?” You start off, realising how crazy this sounds, you spend your days getting your back blown by him but you don’t even know what he studies. He's always engrossed in his university work so you assume he’s a dedicated and top student.

He looks away from his work to focus on you, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. "I’m doing a double major, criminology and fine arts. It’s more photography-based, but it's a lot more complex than just that." His explanation flows effortlessly, a clear indication of his passion. "I've always been fascinated by criminology, the complexity of it, and the deeper understanding it offers. It’s a field where I can communicate the way I want to, I don’t need to talk much, it’s all mostly through visuals. A photo says a thousand words, right?"

His eyes light up with the mention of his work, reflecting a depth you're eager to explore. "This degree teaches me to notice the overlooked details, to create something that might challenge perceptions or bring new insights. I want to make a difference, especially in the criminal justice world."

His passion is palpable, and you find yourself drawn in by his dedication. "Combining criminology with fine arts isn’t common, but that uniqueness is what I think can be my strength." His voice carries a confidence that only adds to his allure.

"There’s a certain beauty in understanding the complexities of crime and human behaviour, and even more so in capturing the emotions and stories behind them through art. I want to find and share that beauty."

You can’t help it. you moan. There's just something so sexy hearing about a man so dedicated to his interests, so complex and multifaceted. Seeing his passions and dedications made you understand him more, or atleast feel like you understand him more.

You realize how perfectly his degree mirrors his personality: mysterious, intellectually deep, and emotionally intelligent. His artistic pursuits show a creative soul that sees the world through a unique lens, combining a sensitivity and appreciation for beauty with a bold, unconventional approach to his studies. This blend of social awareness, empathy, and deep thinking not only makes him fascinating but deeply attractive.

Listening to him, you understand that Jaemin is not just another student; he's someone who truly wants to leave a mark on the world, using his unique perspective and talents. His confidence and individuality shine through, making you admire him all the more.

He’s a captivating blend of social awareness and empathy, driven by a deep concern for societal issues. His studies reflect a profound desire to understand and improve the world, grounding him in compassion and thoughtfulness. As a reflective and insightful thinker, he engages in intellectually stimulating conversations, showcasing his subtle boldness and confidence. Unafraid to deviate from traditional academic paths, Jaemin's unique approach and individuality make him irresistibly appealing.

As you absorb the depth and breadth of Jaemin's ambitions, a spontaneous sound escapes you, a moan of admiration and something more, something deeper. His confusion is immediate, eyebrows arching in a silent question as he pauses, turning to face you fully. His voice, a deep and breathy lull, wraps around you like a warm blanket in the cool air of the room. "Why are you moaning?" He whispers, the words vibrating directly into your ear, sending a shiver down your spine.

"You’re – you’re just really hot.” You confess, the words tumbling out in a blend of awe and sincerity. Without thinking, you wrap your arms around his shoulders. You lean in to kiss his forehead, a gesture so intimate and tender, Jaemin reacts in a way that sends your heart soaring. His eyes close for a moment, savouring the touch, a soft, content sigh escaping him. When he opens them again, they're alight with a giddy, infectious smile, the kind that makes his whole face glow, the kind that's impossible not to return. His breathing, low and steady, syncs with yours, a harmonious rhythm that seems to pull you even closer together.

“You work hard. Well done.” Your words are an affirmation, a gentle reminder of the faith you have in his efforts and the future they’re building towards. This will become something of a personal mission for you—to always remind him that his dedication will be worth it. You’ve never been so close to someone so motivated, so deeply attuned to their aspirations.

“This is why I'm being so good, just letting you study without distracting you. I've been a good girl and just sat here, on your cock, without moving when all I wanna do is ride your cock. you can feel how wet I am, right?”

He tuts. “I don't call bouncing up and down being a ‘good girl?’”

You moan, smashing his lips against his. Your lips move with an urgency that speaks volumes of pent-up desire. He kisses you back with intensity, punctuated by the soft sounds of mutual moans that vibrate through the connection of mouths. Your hand finds its way into his hair, fingers tangling, pulling gently to bring him even closer, ensuring no space remains. His arms wrap securely around your waist, pulling you against him as you grind onto him, your hips making soft motions as your ass meets his thighs, his cock thrusting deeper and deeper into you.

THE ONE WHERE HE EATS YOU OUT

“Do you want me to eat you out, baby? You want me to take your stress away?” Before you can even answer he dives into you, sweet eyes looking up at you with a soft smile, pressing open mouthed kisses to your inner thighs before pulling you lace panties down.

He dove into your pussy, forcing your legs open, his tongue lapping at your pussy and your folds, sucking and licking all the wetness and juice with one long stripe. You moan out heavily, wrapping your legs around his neck and caging him there, your hands fisted in his hair.

He leaves mouthy and wet kisses on your clit, sucking and sucking on the skin and making you moan over and over. Your orgasm was coming close and you’re about to scream out his name but then you fucking hear the front door open.

Hana drops her bag upon seeing you, her eyes widening in surprise. You realise there's no time to hide the situation. Thankfully, she has no way of knowing it's Jaemin due to the way he's positioned and the sofa's arrangement. In a supportive and enthusiastic manner, Hana puts her thumb up to you and mouths her congratulations, seemingly unaware of the true situation

You find yourself wondering why she still stands there, a grin playing on her lips as she nods enthusiastically. Her eyes are fixed on you with a sense of pride that seems to radiate from her, a pride that's uniquely her own and difficult to put into words.

Jaemin, like the menace that he is, continues eating you out even though he’s aware there’s an audience. He’s lapping at your folds more roughly, biting and spitting on your pussy in hopes to make you scream his name, he’s trying to make you scream his name. His tongue delves deeper and deeper as he thrusts his fingers in and out. Your eyes roll back, his name was this close to slipping from your tongue.

Jaemin smirks at how you try to conceal your sounds. His breath was a whisper that sends shivers down your spine. His voice, barely above a murmur, resonates with a depth that you can hardly hear—you feel it, a tangible vibration against your skin. “If you were gonna end up silent anyway then we should've fucked infront of them.”

Jaemin startles you as he raises his head slightly. You quickly guide his head back down, but then he attempts to rise again, wearing a smirk. His eyes intensify with desire as he gazes up at you, giving you the slyest grin. Despite the slightly perverse and twisted nature of the situation, he finds pleasure in your heightened state of arousal due to his actions. Even though it's kind of sick and twisted he loves seeing you so scared because of his doing

THE ONE WHERE YOU’RE FUCKING ON THE BALCONY

You’re wearing the mini skirt, it’s slutty, it’s sexy.

It’s too slutty to be yours, it’s Haerin’s.

She beamed with a glow when you asked for her help, her eyes sparkling with a mix of mischief and delight. Without hesitation, she dives into her closet and emerges with the boldest piece she owns—a mini skirt that's daring in every sense of the word. It's the kind of outfit that blurs the lines between outrageously sexy and boldly confident.

Your eyes widen at the sight of it. The material is sheer, leaving little to the imagination, a bold statement piece that's as see-through as it is alluring. Slipping it on, you can't help but marvel at the transformation. The skirt clings in all the right places, its risqué charm amplified by its translucency and the way it perfectly hugs your curves. It's a far cry from your usual style, but in this moment, it feels just right.

To match the daring vibe of the skirt, you opt for a top that's equally provocative. The ensemble comes together in a daring display of confidence, each piece complementing the other to create a look that's undeniably hot. Your makeup and hair are styled to perfection, each detail adding to the allure of the outfit.

Thoughts of Jaemin flutter through your mind, sending waves of giddy anticipation coursing through you. You hope he’ll find you pretty. As you give yourself one final look in the mirror, confidence surges within you.

Jeno's arrival to pick up you and Haerin was expected, but Jaemin's presence alongside him was a pleasant surprise that sent a jolt of excitement through you.

The moment Haerin and Jeno greeted each other with a kiss, a sense of awkwardness washed over you. You stood slightly apart, an observer to their easy display of affection, feeling a mix of happiness for them and a silent yearning for a similar connection with Jaemin. Your situation with him was a closely guarded secret, one that you weren't ready to unveil.

As you felt the pull towards Jaemin, something shifted within you. With a newfound boldness, you clasped your hands together and rest them by your side, a gesture of anticipation, and subtly leaned his way. Your head tilted, a silent invitation, as your lips curved into a smile, a confident and alluring display.

As Jaemin's gaze intensely sweeps over you, a wave of heat rushes through your body, so palpable that the two of you almost moan out loud. The tension between you both was electric, you’re so happy Haerin and Jeno are too absorbed in each other to notice.

His eyes, dark and focused, scrutinize every detail with an intensity that sends shivers down your spine. You catch him biting his bottom lip, a silent yet unmistakable sign of his approval, as he takes in the sight of you. The outfit you've chosen for the evening accentuates your figure perfectly, hugging you in just the right places to showcase your curves in the most flattering light.

Suddenly, Jeno's attention shifts towards you, breaking the electric tension. With an enthusiastic whistle, he grabs your hand, lifting it above your head to spin you around in a playful showcase. "Look at you.” He smiles, his voice filled with a mix of pride and admiration, the pitch of his whistle echoing his excitement. He's always been your biggest supporter, and tonight is no exception.

Meanwhile, Jaemin remains a silent observer, his expression unreadable yet intensely focused on you. Despite his quiet, his eyes communicate volumes, locked on your form with a clarity that's both thrilling and a little intimidating. His nonchalant demeanor contrasts sharply with the keen interest evident in his gaze.

Jeno drives back to his house which marks the start of an interesting evening.

Jeno's backyard was buzzing with life, lit up by string lights that added a cozy glow to the evening. It was the perfect spot for a barbecue, with everyone gathered around, enjoying the inviting green space. The smell of food on the grill filled the air, hinting at the fun and laughter that was to come.

In one corner, Hana and Eric had cocooned themselves into a couple's chair, their world reduced to the space between them as they shared kisses, seemingly oblivious to the buzz around them. Donghyuck, on the other hand, embraced solitude on the outskirts, content with his crisps, his presence a quiet testament to the diversity of the group's dynamics. Meanwhile, Shotaro and Wonbin, having recently bridged the gap of a misunderstanding, were lost in their own bubble, their laughter and shared glances lighting up the space around them.

Near the grill, stood Jeno and Jaemin, they were cooking all the meat. You watched, perhaps for the first time with true attention, as their interaction unfolded—a symphony of small laughs, shared tasks, and an easy silence that spoke volumes of their bond. The way they moved together, anticipating each other's needs and sharing the workload with an unspoken understanding, was evidence enough of the deep-rooted friendship they shared. The small, almost imperceptible exchanges—a nod here, a chuckle there, the passing of a spatula or a beer without a word — seeing their bond warmed your heart. They did truly love each other.

While Haerin and you engaged in gossip, standing across from Jeno and Jaemin, an attempt to help with the barbecue was dismissed by Jeno, he just told you both to go, citing he didn't want his garden to catch fire.

You’re being slutty on purpose. You boobs were out. You bend down intentionally in front of him, which drew a sigh from him. He tried to brush it off as a reaction to accidentally burning his hand on the grill, which actually did happen, a mishap resulting from his distraction by you rather than the task at hand. Jeno, his fucking nurse, quickly stepped in to care for him, wrapping the wound and even kissing his palm in a comforting gesture. He rolls his eyes and Haerin brings her palm out and expects him to do the same for her even though she wasn’t hurt.

The food is ready, and as everyone gathers around, you can't help but admire Jeno's attentiveness. With a careful diligence, he ensures that everyone is served before even thinking of his own plate. He moves among you, distributing plates and customizing each serving according to personal preferences. When he reaches you, there's a soft pat on your head and a smile that warms you from the inside out, especially when you see he's remembered exactly how you like your burger—with extra cheese and no gherkins. It's these small acts of care that make the moment special.

Jeno then turns his attention to Jaemin, who has been somewhat neglectful of his plate. He silently places a chicken wing directly into his mouth. Haerin, too, receives a tender moment of attention when she chokes on her burger. Jeno is quick to offer her water through a straw, pressing a kiss to her forehead in reassurance. Her embarrassment at the mess she's made is met with his gentle coo and shake of his head, assuring her of her beauty despite the sauce smeared around her mouth. He cleans it up with his thumb, a gesture so intimate and affectionate, followed by a soft kiss that seems to say everything words cannot.

You haven’t been drinking yet you feel high, euphoric. You’re completely sober and that’s the best part of it all. A few months ago you would’ve never thought you’d reach such happiness without being drunk but here you are, with your best friend, smiling until your cheeks ache.

The joy that fills you is genuine, a kind of happiness that’s both new and exhilarating. Despite not having touched a drop of alcohol, you find yourself riding a wave of euphoria, the kind that only true contentment can bring. It’s a realisation that hits you with the force of a revelation—once, the thought of achieving such a state of bliss without the aid of drinks would have seemed impossible. Yet, here you are, basking in the warmth of genuine happiness, sharing moments of laughter and connection with your best friend. The smiles that stretch across your faces, so wide that they make your cheeks ache, are a testament to the pure, unadulterated joy of the moment.

You an i’m d Haerin are dancing sexily, slut drops, touching each other closely, hands on tits, ass, giggling, you were kissing. You’re vaguely aware of the attention you’re attracting, particularly from Jeno and Jaemin.

Jaemin’s expression is hard to read, always enigmatic, giving nothing away. He watches with his usual cool, detached air, adding to his mysterious aura. Jeno’s gaze, on the other hand, is intense, you’re not sure whether he wanted to join in or punish you, leaving you guessing about his thoughts.

He clearly makes up his mind as suddenly, he comes along and the three of you are dancing closely, they’re both so wasted, that’s why the three of you grind on each other, hands touching all places, hot breath fanning over each other’s faces, you’re sure Jeno was slapping both of your asses at one point.

The atmosphere is a bit surreal, and you can't help but wonder how you've found yourself in this situation. Jeno, surprisingly, is dividing his attention between you and Haerin, and it's an unexpected turn of events. He starts by placing his hands on both of your shoulders, his touch sending a shiver down your spine.

Slowly, he pivots Haerin around and lets his hands glide down to her hips, making sure you can still feel his touch as he pulls her closer to him. The sensation is electrifying, and you're not sure where this is leading. Then, with a playful assertiveness, he gives her ass a cheeky slap.

Before you know it, Jeno positions himself between both of you, sandwiched between you and Haerin, letting the two of you grind into him. She's right in front of him, arching her neck as he leaves open mouthed kisses, not completely neglecting you though, his fingers move to caress your thighs.

Passions ignite in the room as tongues entwine and hands explore. You sensually slide your hand down Jeno's body, your fingers dancing down to his crotch. The chemistry is palpable, and you can't help but feel your own heart racing.

Haerin and you share a passionate kiss while Jeno moans in pleasure, his eyes locked on the erotic display before him. His hand rubs his bulge through his pants, and the intensity in the room continues to build.

Jeno's desire reaches its peak as he tightly fists your hair, pulling you back roughly to grant him access to Haerin's eager lips. Their mouths collide, exchanging a torrent of saliva and heated kisses. It's a frenzied scene filled with raw desire and longing.

But then, Haerin moves away from Jeno and turns her attention to you, planting sweet pecks on your lips, the two of you giggling and giving each other giddy eyes. The contrast between the intense passion and the soft, affectionate moments is a tantalizing blend of sensations that leaves you breathless.

You and Haerin had playfully shared your desires about making out with each other before, acknowledging each other's attractiveness, you both found each other hot! This moment feels different. It's serious and intense.

Now, you find yourselves on the couch, straddling each other. You’re on top, and your lips meet in a fiery, passionate kiss. The sensation of her tongue, soft lips, and electric chemistry between you leaves you captivated. You can understand why Jeno is so enamored with her.

But suddenly, you're yanked away, and Jeno takes your place. He grabs Haerin's neck harshly, eliciting a loud moan from her,, his kisses were passionate and forceful. Smooching noises fill the room as Jeno dominates the moment, leaning over and caging her against the plush cushions, his legs either side of her and he’s not holding back on being rough.

Haerin senses your hesitation and quickly pulls you onto Jeno's lap while still engaging in a heated make-out session with him. Together, they shower you with affection, covering you in passionate kisses and leaving hickeys on your skin. Jeno, driven by intense desire, unzips his pants, his length ready as he runs it through his hands.

Before Jeno can even do anything with his cock, the room is abruptly pierced by a voice that commands immediate attention. Jaemin, who until now had remained silent, suddenly asserts himself with a firm, "Not on this couch!!" His intervention is swift and decisive, drawing the eyes of everyone present.

Your gaze meets Jaemin, and the intensity you find in his eyes is startling. There's something about the way he looks at you—commanding, and undeniably attractive—that sends a thrill through you. The mixture of authority in his voice and the dark promise in his gaze stirs something deep within you, amplifying your already heightened arousal.

The realisation that Jaemin has been observing this whole time makes you moan. His attention, previously undetected, now feels like a spotlight. His gaze, heavy with an unspoken challenge, leaves you pondering his thoughts and the nature of his interest in the dynamics at play.

You decide to head to the bathroom to freshen up, trying to regain your composure. You smooth out your hair and touch up your makeup, attempting to collect your thoughts. But as you open the bathroom door, you're met with the dark and piercing gaze of Jaemin.

His expression isn't one of happiness. Instead, a certain intensity emanates from his eyes that sends a shiver down your spine. The look in his eyes makes your insides throb with desire for him, overpowering any other thoughts. He had been on your mind all night, and now, being in such close proximity to him, your longing for Jaemin becomes undeniable and overwhelming. You only want him. The tension in the bathroom seems to escalate, the steaminess of the situation too palpable to ignore.

Your lips crash together in a searing, insatiable kiss, tongues tangling in a fervent dance. His hands roam your body, gripping and squeezing, while your nails dig into his back, pulling him impossibly closer.

With legs wrapped around his waist, you grind against each other, feeling his arousal hard and insistent against your core. Every touch, every bite, every growl against your lips sends shivers of pleasure down your spine.

Jaemin's mouth trails down your neck, nipping and sucking, marking you as his own, covering the marks that Haerin and Jeno had left on you and. Tutting in your ear, Jaemin's voice drips with desire and dominance. "Gonna act like a slut like that again, baby? Hm? You’ll see what I do to you." His words send shivers down your spine as he presses his body closer, asserting his control.

Your breaths grow heavy, matching the rhythm of your bodies moving against each other. His fingers find their way under your clothes, tracing lines of fire along your skin, making you gasp and moan. He’s spanking your ass as you moan into his mouth, the wetness between your thighs becoming palpable.

Locked in a heated gaze, your eyes reveal the raw hunger within. Bodies pressed together, the friction only intensifies the pulsating need between you. You feel consumed by a wild, untamed passion, surrendering to the magnetic pull of desire.

"Trying to flaunt your sweet pussy to everyone else?" Jaemin's voice oozes dark desire as he speaks close to your ear. He cages your face in his hands, forcing you to meet his intense gaze. "Answer me."

You shake your head, your eyes wide, and your lips trembling with a whimper and a pout.

“I don't believe you."

Jaemin's intentions become unmistakably clear as he manhandles you, forcefully guiding you until you're pressed against the balcony railing. You glance around and realise that you're on the balcony overlooking the garden, he positions you exactly how he desires, and you surrender willingly to his commands.

Coming up behind you, he arches your neck and presses passionate kisses upon your skin, leaving a trail of fiery sensation in his wake. His desire is palpable, and the mask he's worn for so long begins to slip away, revealing the raw, passionate intensity beneath

Jaemin makes quick work of removing your clothes, his hand delivering sharp slaps to your ass in rapid succession. The mixture of pleasure and pain sends shivers down your spine.

"You want everyone to see what a fucking slut you are? Now they will.” He whispers in your ear, sending a thrilling jolt through your body. The audaciousness of this encounter only makes it more arousing, and you can't believe how turned on you are right now. Is he really this brazen? Fucking you in a place where you could easily be caught, even though your situationship is a secret?

That’s hot.

Your moan betrays your excitement, your body burning with desire as Jaemin's cock thrusts relentlessly into you. He's pounding you on the balcony, your front pressed against the railings, and he ensures your arms are held above your head without even having to use physical force. You remember his earlier warning: no moving allowed, and you obediently comply like the good girl you are, relishing your role as the willing submissive.

With one of your legs held up by Jaemin, you're pinned against the balcony's railings, your body entirely at his mercy. “Such a whore, acting like this all night in front of everyone.”

Jaemin revels in taking you from behind, the sight of your ass bouncing against his throbbing erection driving him wild. With one hand gripping your hair, he pulls your head back, arching your back sensually. The other hand firmly presses against your lower back, guiding you to meet his every thrust.

He forcefully drags your head forward, fistful of your hair in his grip as he forces you to position there, you hold back a moan as you see everyone in the garden downstairs, your friends are below you. All of them still in the garden and if they look up they'd see you and him fucking, they’ll see his hands that slap your titties and his dick plunging in and out of you.

“Doll, you have to stay quiet, you don't want our friends to know our little secret.” His voice, usually low and commanding, becomes a seductive whisper, sending shivers down your spine. There’s a hint of a mischievous smirk playing on his lips as he savors the effect of his words on you.

Yet, despite the need for secrecy, Jaemin's primal desire overcomes any semblance of restraint. He thrusts into you even harder, igniting a fire of arousal that burns hotter with every passing moment. The walls of your body tighten around him as pleasure intensifies, and the possibility of being discovered fuels the urgency of your passionate connection.

You get off on the fact that you could be caught anytime, you and Jaemin love the thrill. As he whispers in your ear, urging you to make more noise, he maintains his firm grip on your throat.

As the intensity between you and Jaemin reaches its peak, he relentlessly continues, thrusting into you with a determination that over-stimulates your senses. Your ass bounces against his cock, creating a rhythm that leaves you utterly spent and breathless. He's fucking you with such intensity that it's as if he's driving you to the brink of euphoria, making you feel high from his touch alone.

With every plunge of his cock, your snug walls grip him tighter, as if unwilling to let go of the pleasure he provides. Jaemin's playful cooing adds an exhilarating layer to the experience, igniting a fiery passion within you. The sound of skin slapping against skin fills the air, accompanied by heavy moans and growls of raw desire, making it abundantly clear that this encounter is driven by an insatiable hunger for each other.

He continues to overstimulate you. He's driving you to the brink, making you feel intoxicated with desire. His cock plunges in and out, your cum dripping down your thighs and making a mess. With a hint of teasing in his voice, he asks. "Can't you take it?"

In the heat of the moment, you're completely absorbed, unaware that your friends below have fallen silent. Little do you know, they're fully aware of what's happening on the balcony, and their cheers of encouragement fill the air. Despite their enthusiasm, they remain oblivious to the identity of the mystery man who's fucking you, failing to connect the dots as you and Jaemin are the only ones missing from the gathering.

As your friends look up, Jaemin drags you inside and to the floor, and before they can see anything, he fucks you there instead. “Shut the fuck up, slut.” Jaemin slaps your ass as you squirt all over him

He holds you close, cooing softly in your ear as you come down from your high. His gentle kisses and tender touch help soothe you. He wipes away the remaining tears and ensures you're comfortable and clean.

Moments later, you make your way down to the garden, a slight flush on your cheeks. You enter with an air of casual composure, trying to act as if nothing out of the ordinary has occurred. Both you and Jaemin make an effort to maintain your cool, not arriving together to avoid any unnecessary attention.

It's quite evident that you've had your back blown out, with the afterglow still lingering on you. As you walk in, the cheers from your friends greet you, and Haerin plants a friendly kiss on your cheek. Hana attempts to lead you three away for some girls' talk, but the guys are being insufferable. Their taunting and teasing know no bounds, with even Shotaro mimicking your moans, and Donghyuck giving you an overly friendly pat on the back.

Among the crowd, two individuals stand out for their unusual behaviour. Jaemin remains nonchalant and seemingly unbothered, standing away from the chaos as if he hadn't just fucked you dumb. You envy him, how is he standing there like nothing intense had happened just mere moments ago? You also can't help but be suspicious of Jeno. He's typically the one to lead the teasing, but instead, he gazes at you with a proud smirk that leaves you questioning his intentions.

The air is thick with curiosity as your friends huddle together, each one throwing out guesses about the mysterious man's identity. Among the murmurs, Shotaro speaks up—sweet, innocent Shotaro. You adore him, yet there's a part of you wishing for his silence in this moment.

"Hey, Jaemin disappeared when we heard Y/N up there.” He remarks, pointing out Jaemin's absence just as your fucking had begun. The room falls into a tense silence, anticipation hanging in the air as everyone seems on the cusp of laughter or teasing, their faces a mix of shock and amusement.

Your eyes dart to Jaemin, panic flickering within you. But Jaemin, ever composed, manages his emotions with a tight control. He never slips. He subtly shakes his head at you, a silent reassurance not to worry. His gaze then shifts to Jeno, exchanging a brief nod—a moment of silent communication that leaves you more baffled than ever.

Jeno, with his impeccable timing, chimes in, "Jaem couldn’t have been the guy; around that time, I sent him out to buy some more potatoes for those chips you guys gobbled up." It's a smooth save. Everyone seems to accept Jeno's explanation without hesitation. And truly, who wouldn't? He has always had a way with words, his ability to weave believable stories making him a convincing, smooth talker.

You let out a sigh of relief, though the knot in your stomach only tightens. You know it's only a matter of time before the truth might come out, and the thought sends waves of anxiety through you. For now, though, Jeno's quick thinking has steered the suspicion away, granting you a temporary reprieve from the spotlight.

THE ONE WHERE EVERYONE FINDS OUT (ONE)

“Is it Xiaojun?”

You shake your head, not paying much attention to the girls who are growing increasingly curious and persistent in their questioning. Instead, your focus remains fixed on your phone screen as you type away. It was Jaemin on the other end, if you weren’t being fucked by him then you were always sexting, you had become obbessed with each other.

“Who is it then?” Haerin’s voice carries a hint of frustration as she cries out, They’re so goddamn nosy. They’re trying to figure out who you’re seeing, clearly growing exasperated with your evasive responses.

They know you’re seeing someone as you’ve been caught several times but luckily they don’t know that it’s Jaemin. You’re intent on maintaining this privacy until you and Jaemin can figure out your situation. Staying discreet with Jaemin seems like the best course of action, avoiding drama and unwanted attention.

It’s your mistake to relish and sigh in their silence and accept it as peace. “Who’s fucking dick is that?????” Hana's voice escalates into a scream and Haerin's eyes nearly bulge out of its eye sockets, you realise that somehow, they've stumbled upon a photo of Jaemin on your phone, although his face wasn’t in it. It was his cock.

Haerin is full on moaning and asking you “how can you handle all that?”

So why is that photo on your phone? You had many photos of his cock on your phone but this particular one had an explanation. The truth is, Jaemin had sent you that photo while he was in a lecture, fully aware of your desires, and he decided to engage in some sexting to tease and please you. The real mistake was indulging in it while sitting on the same sofa as Haerin and Hana.

You let out a yelp in panic, blurting out, "I'm just looking at porn!" in an attempt to deflect their suspicions. However, Haerin and Hana remain skeptical, shaking their heads and exchanging knowing looks.

Hana wears a mischievous smile as she responds, "We will find out." It seems like they're not buying your excuse and are determined to get to the bottom of the situation.

THE ONE WHERE EVERYONE FINDS OUT (TWO)

Hana turns to Jeno, her face a canvas of confusion and suspicion. "Where the hell is Y/N?" she demands, expecting answers.

Jeno shrugs off the question with a casual "I dunno." Yeah he does. He knows that you’re getting your back blown out by Jaemin. He's known this whole time. He’s known since the very first time.

Hana, still in the dark and growing more perplexed by the minute, continues to probe. "She's being really suspicious, don't you think? She never hides anything from us, so why isn't she telling us who she's seeing?" She questions, her voice filled with confusion.

Jeno, attempting to divert the conversation, mumbles, "It's probably a social experiment.” His comment unexpectedly draws laughter from Hana, though she hadn't intended to find humor in the situation.

Just as Hana ponders Jeno's words, her attention is suddenly captured by a sight through the sliding doors that connect the outdoor garden to the kitchen. She waves frantically, trying to get someone's attention, and before she can even begin to question why you are here, in Jeno's house, without any apparent reason, she lets out a loud scream, her hands flying up to cover her face in shock. "Y/N and Jaemin? What are they doing? AHHHH! AHHHHHH!"

“My eyes… my eyes!!!!!” She screams, unable to believe her eyes.

"Jaemin and Y/N? Why is he touching her like that? What the HELL?" Hana exclaims, her voice rising in disbelief and shock.

"I know! I know!" Jeno repeats, trying to calm Hana down, mindful that Haerin is upstairs and oblivious to the unfolding drama.

"You know?" Hana shrieks, her voice piercing the air.

"Yes, I know! And now you know. Obviously, Jaemin and Y/N... but Haerin doesn't, neither does anyone else in the group, so please, you have to stop screaming." Jeno implores, his tone serious. "You need to keep this a secret. He adds, stressing the importance of discretion in this unexpected and delicate situation.

Hana, feeling a sense of urgency, breathes frantically and expresses her needs. “I need to tell Eric.”

Jeno, wanting to keep her calm, suggests. “Just pretend I’m Eric, I literally look like Eric.”

Hana nods in agreement and begins speaking as if she’s addressing Eric. Her confession takes an unexpected turn as she admits. “You do look like Eric, and it freaking creeps me out. Sometimes it makes me wanna make out with you.” Her voice drops to a low whisper, and she realizes too late that she’s voiced her thoughts aloud.

Jeno, raising his eyebrows in surprise, awkwardly coughs in response. Hana quickly regrets her words and mumbles, “Yeah, just forget I said that.” Jeno nods in agreement, and the two of them part ways.

THE ONE WHERE EVERYONE FINDS OUT (THREE, FIN)

Hana and Jeno share a smirk and shake their heads at the noise coming from upstairs. To them, you sound like a bitch in heat, you and Jaemin were so incredibly loud.

There's a moment of silence as Hana and Jeno exchange amused glances, reveling in the audacity of your and Jaemin's fucking. Then, Haerin enters through the front door, dropping a kiss on Jeno's forehead and bringing a bag of food just for herself.

Curious about your whereabouts, Haerin asks, "Where's Y/N?"

Jeno mumbles casually, leaning back in his seat. “You can’t hear her, baby? She’s upstairs, fucking Jaem.”

Hana, with her boba straw poised at her lips, widens her eyes in surprise and nearly chokes on her drink. “I thought it was a secret—”

Jeno, still with that nonchalant demeanour, interrupts her. “I’m sick of it.”

“Sick of them?” Hana questions, genuinely curious.

Jeno clarifies his annoyance, his tone filled with humor, “Sick of losing sleep because of them. Hopefully, now they can just get it on in public instead of when I’m trying to to go bed.”

Hana adds teasingly, “Please, don’t act as if you and Haerin, and Jaem and Y/N don’t have a competition to see who can be the loudest.”

Jeno retorts, a playful glint in his eye, “And you’re forgetting you and Eric? You two are the loudest!”

Hana and Jeno fall silent in their playful bickering when they hear the unmistakable sounds of screaming coming from upstairs. It's not just any scream; it's you and Haerin.

Hana chuckles and remarks, "Seems like Haerin is copying Y/N."

Jeno and Hana share a laugh as they make their way upstairs, curiosity piqued by the unexpected commotion unfolding in your room. The sight that greets them is nothing short of comical. Haerin lets out an audible scream, her disbelief apparent on her face.

You are equally shocked. Why is everyone in your room? You had a heart attack, Jaemin’s dick was plunging in and out of you and then suddenly the door opened with a loud scream. As your friends stare at you and Jaemin, you realize that there's no way to hide or explain the situation. The truth is out, and you can feel the weight of their gazes on you.

As Jeno gives Jaemin a kiss on the head, you finally connect the dots, a realisation dawning upon you. An epiphany hits you like a ton of bricks, and a light bulb goes off in your head. You jab Jaemin's chest, your voice incredulous as you exclaim. Jeno had known all along. It makes so much sense now.

"Jaem!! You told him!!"

Jaemin, taken aback by your accusation, hastily defends himself. "I swear I didn't!"

“I was the one who planted this idea in your heads and you thought I wouldn’t know?” Jeno smirks, an immense pride in him as he looks at the two of you.

(That wasn’t true though, Jaemin had told Jeno early on, just like he tells Jeno everything.)

Haerin's eyes light up, and she moves to the bed to hug you tightly in her arms, placing sloppy kisses on your head and Jaemin's. "So you're dating????" She squeals excitedly, clapping her hands. But suddenly, her enthusiasm dies down, replaced by confusion.

You and Jaemin choke on your words, shaking your heads and immediately denying it. Haerin's mouth widens in disbelief, and she struggles to find the right words. Hana steps in, voicing her confusion. "I don't get it? I thought you guys were — Jeno told me you guys were dating."

Jeno, not wanting to get involved, quickly defends his name. "I said nothing."

Hana and Haerin share a look that fills you with unease; their silence is unsettling. They suddenly leave the room, only to return a few moments later. You groan and palm your head when you see Haerin holding an 'intervention' banner in her hand.

THE INTERVENTION

You find yourself awkwardly seated in the center of the room, suddenly the focal point of everyone's attention. This unsolicited spotlight wasn't something you chose; rather, it's the result of an impromptu intervention masterminded by Hana. She, with a flair for drama, unveils a handmade sign that declares ‘intervention’ in bold, uneven letters. With a mix of persuasion and sheer force of will, she and Haerin manage to get Jaemin and Jeno to hang the sign, although it dangles crookedly above you.

Hana and Haerin stand before you, their arms crossed in an attempt to convey seriousness. You press your lips together, fighting the urge to laugh at the absurdity of the situation, feeling a bizarre mix of annoyance and fondness for their concern.

"Do not laugh." Haerin commands, her voice sharp, it immediately makes your lips fall flat.

However, this facade quickly dissolves the moment your gaze locks with Jaemin’s. The curve of his eyes and the subtle smirk tugging at his lips are the triggers that unleash your laughter. The sound of your combined laughter echoes off the walls. Jaemin's expression is a perfect blend of amusement and complicity, his attractiveness magnified in the moment. He looks effortlessly handsome, his casual posture and the slight smirk playing on his lips adding to his allure.

Hana prepares to dive into the heart of the matter, her expression serious yet tinged with concern. She shakes her head and clears her throat, signaling the start of what promises to be an in-depth interrogation. “So, what is this?” She probes, her gaze shifting between you and Jaemin, accompanied with her hand moving back and forth.

“An intervention.” Jaemin responds unusually, he normally wouldn’t say a word but he catches on to your reaction and he realises it’s worth it. The room is filled with the sound of your laughter, and it’s the cutest thing Jaemin has heard in a while. Your laughter lights up the space, your mouth forming a beautiful smile as you giggle. The sweetness of the moment warms Jaemin’s heart, and he can’t help but cherish it. As he watches you, he can’t deny the growing affection he feels for you. He adores you more with each passing moment, silently falling for you in the most unexpected of times.

“We have too many interventions.” You say once your laughter has subsided but Hana and Haerin will not allow you to shift the focus once more.

“I’ll ask again, what are you guys?”

The room feels charged, the anticipation building. When neither of you responds immediately, Hana’s impatience shows with a disapproving tut. Deciding to cut to the chase, she bluntly asks, “Are you guys fucking?” Her directness catches you off guard and you suddenly start choking on your tongue.

Jaemin, ever the embodiment of calm under pressure, answers with his characteristic dry wit. “Obviously, did you not walk in on me pounding into her like 5 minutes ago?” His nonchalance is both infuriating and disarming.

Haerin, picking up where Hana left off, wears a hopeful smile, her eyes alight with curiosity. “So, you’re dating?” She ventures, her optimism palpable. Her eyes light up and she breaks out into a grin, a reaction you quite simply do not understand as she knows you’re not dating.

The question sends you and Jaemin into a fit of awkward chuckles, a symphony of refusals and denials echoing around the room, you’d keep denying it until they believed you. You try to convince, almost too vehemently, that dating isn’t on the cards. “Hold on.” You interject, laughter breaking through the tension. “Just because we’re fucking doesn’t mean we’re dating. Don’t be crazy.”

Your attempt at humour does little to appease Hana and Haerin. They both launch into a series of scolding and telling off, their words a mix of worry. They warn you that you’re being reckless in your actions and that heartache will follow. They plead you to think this through. Meanwhile, Jeno sits quietly to the side, observing the proceedings with a silent chuckle, his laid-back demeanour a stark contrast to the animated energy of Hana and Haerin.

"So, what are you guys? Friends with benefits?" Haerin asks, her hope running out. The question hangs in the air, prompting immediate reactions from both you and Jaemin. You both shake your heads quickly, clearly unsettled by the label. The very thought seems off-putting to you both.

"We were never even friends.” You clarify, laying down the stark reality of your relationship with Jaemin.

He softly added, "More like strangers with benefits.”

You shake your head, quick to counter. "No.” You say to him simply and plainly. You didn’t like the idea of only being of use to him for your body. Friends with benefits wasn’t something you ever wanted to engage in.

The room falls silent at Hana's next question, "So what are you?" Hana's question leaves you speechless, a silence enveloping you as the words hang heavily in the air. What are we? The thought echoes in your mind, a question without an easy answer. As you glance over at Jaemin, searching for any sign of clarity in his expression, you're met with the same uncertainty. The ambiguity of your relationship, undefined and unlabeled, looms large between you. It's confusing. You're both aware of the lack of clear communication between you, yet the good sex keeps bringing you back to each other.

Faced with Hana's probing gaze, you deflect, turning the spotlight back onto her. "What are you and Eric?" you ask, hoping to shift the focus away from the complexity of your situation. The question hangs between you, a momentary distraction from the undefined nature of your relationship with Jaemin.

“He’s my boyfriend.” She reveals nonchalantly, as if the declaration is the most natural thing in the world. You didn’t expect it, you had known that they’d gotten close but you didn’t expect them to actually label their love. This was the first time she had told you.

At her words, the room erupts into excitement. You and Haerin can’t contain your joy, squealing and rushing to embrace her. An unexpected wave of emotion washes over you, and you find yourself fighting back tears. The depth of your reaction surprises even you, but deep down, you understand its source. Hana is not just a friend; she’s your best friend, someone whose happiness means the world to you. Seeing her find joy and fulfilment in a relationship with Eric, someone who has been in love with her since childhood, fills you with an overwhelming sense of relief and contentment.

In the midst of your collective excitement and joy for Hana, the moment becomes even more intimate when she turns to you, her gaze filled with softness and genuine concern. "I just don't want you to get hurt.” She whispers, her voice a tender echo of past conversations. The sincerity in her eyes reflects the depth of your friendship, her worry stemming from the memory of your last heartbreak. That memory isn't just yours; it's shared in the collective heart of your friendship, a reminder of pain endured and the resilience that followed.

Jaemin, who until now has been a quiet observer of the emotional exchange, lets out a light chuckle. It's clear he's ready to leap to his own defence but you're quicker. "Jaem isn't gonna hurt me.” You assert confidently, your voice steady and strong. There's no hesitation, no faltering in your statement—a testament to the unwavering belief you hold in him.

This isn't a mere assertion; it's a declaration of trust, a trust that has been carefully built and nurtured over time. In your heart, you feel the solidity of this trust,

Jaemin's reaction to your words is subtle yet profound. There's a flash of something deeper in his eyes, a mixture of appreciation and a solemn promise. It's as if your words have not only affirmed your trust in him but also reinforced his commitment to honor and cherish that trust.

Jeno, unexpectedly quiet until now, says, "Yeah, he won’t." Jeno's sudden input surprises you, given his silence throughout the intervention. He’s normally active in discussions like these, his quietness up to this point was out of character.

"He’s a good guy.” Jeno reiterates, his voice imbued with a depth of trust and admiration. His words about Jaemin are not just spoken; they're felt, radiating a heartfelt sincerity that envelops the room.

In that instance, you and Jeno share an exchange so profoundly sweet, it transcends words. Smiles bloom on your faces, a silent nod sealing this moment of mutual understanding and respect.

Then, Jeno’s gaze finds yours, carrying a depth of knowledge and insight that puzzles you. It's a look filled with layers you can't quite decipher, leaving you curious about his thoughts and emotions. This moment of uncertainty stirs a mix of confusion and curiosity within you, prompting questions you yearn to ask.

Yet, the moment's simple beauty holds you back, urging you to just live in it, to appreciate the connection you share without overanalyzing. Jeno’s response is a smile, so broad and genuine, it encapsulates the essence of your friendship—a bond that thrives on unspoken understanding and shared moments just like this.

Hana smiled and shook her head. "Fine, but you guys should create rules for whatever kind of 'situationship' this is." You and Jaemin exchanged a look, and you realized that she was right.

"Can we have some privacy?" You asked, but you were immediately met with a chorus of "no's." You rolled your eyes, realizing that your friend group was just too open with each other. The closeness was a bit frightening at times, was it normal that you had seen them all naked on multiple occasions?

As he closes the distance, Jaemin's arm draped gently around your shoulder, he looked into your eyes with a sense of warmth and concern. "Are you okay?" He asked softly, his voice laced with genuine care.

You smiled at him, your fingers tenderly brushing over his eyebrow before cupping his cheek, drawing him into a gentle, heartfelt kiss. It was a quiet moment shared between just the two of you, a silent reassurance of your connection.

"So, what are you thinking?" You inquired, your fingers now finding his hand and intertwining with his. You took a deep breath, your gaze fixed on his, and continued, "I was thinking that communication is the key here. We should always be honest with each other about everything. For example, if you've found someone else, it would be better if you told me the truth so I can handle it better and..."

Before you could finish, Jaemin cut you off, his eyes unwavering as he affirmed, "I'm not going to find anyone else. I don't want anyone else." His words carried a deep sincerity that sent a warm shiver down your spine, reaffirming the bond you shared.

You nodded, feeling a little overwhelmed by your emotions. "Oh.” Was all you managed to say.

Jaemin's eyes held a gentle understanding as you continued, "And I think things like dates and gifts are okay. I mean, not like official dates, but if we want to go out, we don't need to be weird about it. I don't mean it like a date-date, but..."

"I know what you mean.” He said, voice filled with affection.

"Do you want to suggest something?" You asked, your arms wrapping around his neck as you gazed into his eyes.

Jaemin's smile is soft, filled with an unwavering patience and acceptance. "I just want whatever you want. Just tell me what you want, and if it's what you're comfortable with, then I want it too."

You nodded and then brought up another important point. "Um, also, can we continue keeping this private? I just... I don't want the attention, and I don't want Hyunjin to know. He's going to... he's just... I..."

The room is filled with the sound of your heavy breathing, the emotional weight of the moment pressing down on you. As you fight back tears, a sense of vulnerability washes over you, compelling you to look away in embarrassment. Around you, the concern is palpable, your friends frown at the sight of your distress.

Jaemin's response is immediate and tender, his voice a soft balm in the tense atmosphere. "Hey, baby.” He murmurs, his words wrapping around you with a warmth that feels like a gentle embrace. The softness of his kiss is a promise, a silent assurance that you're not alone in this. He moves your face gently in his arms so you’re looking at him and only him.

"Of course we can keep it private.” He says, his commitment to your comfort and peace of mind clear in his tone. In that moment, You find yourself nodding, a smile breaking through the uncertainty as you lean in for another kiss, his soft lips making you ache for more.

You hesitated for a moment before bringing up one more concern. "Last one, if you ever find yourself catching feelings for another girl, then..."

Jaemin didn't let you finish your sentence. He interrupted with a passionate declaration, "I don't want that. Did I not make myself clear when I said that I don't want anyone who's not you? You're the only one I want."

The room fell silent, with even Haerin moaning at his words. You have to acknowledge, deep down, that this feeling is somewhat foreign to you. The sensation of being prioritised, of sharing space with someone who genuinely cherishes and respects your feelings to the extent that Jaemin does, is new and disarming. Reflecting on the past, you realize Hyunjin never offered you this kind of emotional security and consideration. The contrast between then and now is stark, stirring a mix of relief and a poignant sense of what you had long been missing. It's an emotional revelation, understanding for the first time the depth of care you truly deserve and are finally receiving.

A wave of emotions crashed over you, leaving you momentarily breathless. Before you could process his words, he bridged the gap between you, his actions speaking louder than any promise could. His lips met yours with a fervor that conveyed the depth of his sincerity, igniting a spark that quickly turned into a blazing fire.

The kiss was passionate, yet carried a tenderness that enveloped you in warmth and security. His lips moved against yours with a precision that spoke of his deep desire and commitment, each motion reinforcing his declaration. The intensity of the kiss deepened as if each touch, each melding of lips, was a seal over his vow, binding him to you and you alone.

The physical connection was overwhelming, sending ripples of heat through your body. His hands, firm yet gentle, cradled your face, pulling you closer into the kiss, leaving no space for doubts or fears. The world around you faded, leaving only the sensation of being wholly desired and cherished.

You were left with a lingering sense of being deeply connected, not just physically but emotionally. The assurance in Jaemin's kiss, the fervent way his lips claimed yours, left no room for uncertainty. In that moment, you felt a profound reassurance that his heart aligned with his words.

As the intensity of Jaemin's kiss enveloped you, a surge of boldness took over. Your hands found their way to the hem of his shirt. With a shared breath, a silent agreement passed between you, and you began to lift his shirt upwards. Jaemin's response was to pause the kiss momentarily, allowing you just enough space to pull the fabric over his head.

His shirt discarded, you were met with the warmth of his skin, the contours of his muscles under your fingertips, you began tracing the lines and warmth of his back, Jaemin's lips found yours again as you kissed him until you couldn’t breathe. It felt like kissing him was easier than breathing.

THE ONE WITH JAEMIN AND JENO

Jeno’s laughter breaks through, a sound mingled with relief and disbelief. “You can finally stop hiding around with her.” He chuckles, his gaze locking on Jaemin.

Jaemin responds with a breathy, “Thank fuck,.” His relief palpable, a tension he hadn’t realised he was holding released with those words.

Jeno continues, half in jest, half in admonishment. “You weren’t doing a good job at it though, fucking on the balcony above us, really? I had to pull my cover for you guys out of my literal ass. I don’t know how the others bought it.” Despite the humour, there’s an undercurrent of sincerity in his critique, a nod to the lengths he’d go to protect you and him.

Jaemin, feeling a swell of gratitude towards Jeno, turns to him. His shake of the head conveys more than words could—a silent thank you for the cover, for the understanding, for always being there.

Then, Jeno’s tone shifts, the mood turning serious as he changes the direction of the conversation. “Take care of her.” He says, his voice steady, eyes locking onto Jaemin with a depth of concern that’s rare to see.

The sudden seriousness catches Jaemin off guard, but his response is immediate and unwavering. “You know I will.”

Jeno’s next words are heavier, laden with worry. “You know I worry about her.” He confesses, revealing a protective side often hidden beneath his lighthearted exterior.

Jeno’s tone takes on a sombre note, his words heavy with concern and a touch of anger. “Do you know how fucked she got after that dick fucked her over?” He asks, his voice laden with seriousness. “She got high every single night.” He continues, the worry evident in his expression.

Then, he shares something even graver, a fact that underscores the depth of her despair. “She overdosed and ended up in the hospital.” He reveals, the weight of his words hanging in the air.

Jeno’s frown deepens as he recalls the nights filled with your cries, a testament to the pain you endured. The memory of it brings a heavy sigh from him, the kind that echoes with the weight of unspoken words and shared heartaches. “Her room is next to Haerin’s, and I’d just hear her cry every night.” He says, his voice tinged with a sorrow that speaks volumes of the nights spent in worry for you.

Jaemin listens, a storm of emotions playing across his features— he wants to deal with Hyunjin. He feels shock, anger, and an undeniable resolve to protect you. “I’m taking care of her.”

Jaemin understands the heartache of a breakup all too well, having recently navigated the end of his relationship with Yeeun. In the aftermath, he found himself caught in a mess of emotions. He struggled a lot. Time, however, has a way of soothing the sharpest sorrows, and gradually, he felt himself healing, the pieces of his fractured heart beginning to realign. It's in this journey of recovery that he found himself drawn to you, a beacon of hope and a promise of new beginnings.

Or is that what he’s made himself believe?

“She hasn’t gotten high since she’s been with me. I take care of her, I make sure she doesn’t. Jaemin continues, his determination clear. “All I wanna do is make her happy.”

Jeno’s response is a grin, a gesture that reflects his recognition and approval. “Yeah. You are.” He agrees, acknowledging the positive shift he’s witnessed in you. Your friends have noticed the change, seen the light return to your eyes, and watched as your health and spirits lifted. They’ve seen the laughter replace the tears, the strength replace the fragility, all under Jaemin’s tender care.

Jaemin, new to your life, may not have known the depth of your struggles, the lows that once defined your days. Yet, his presence has woven a new narrative, one where happiness fill the spaces that pain once occupied. In the quiet moments, in the soft touches and shared smiles, there’s an intimacy and warmth that envelops you both.

EVERYONE KNOWS NOW

Now, the secret's out—at least among your circle of friends. Shotaro, ever observant, claims he pieced it together during the barbecue, asserting he always knew Jaemin was your mystery man on the balcony. Donghyuck remains unfazed and isolated, lost in thought over his coffee and not making eye contact with anyone, while Yangyang teases you playfully, calling you a "nasty girl." Xiaojun, however, is notably silent, a quiet observer which was odd.

Walking into the campus café, where your friends have gathered, you immediately lock eyes with Jaemin. There's an unspoken conversation in that glance, a connection that speaks volumes, highlighted by your shared smiles. The crowded space leaves no chair for you, but Jaemin easily solves the dilemma, inviting you to sit on his lap with a welcoming gesture. You happily oblige like the good girl you are, you settle into the comfort of his embrace.

The moment you're in his arms, his lips gently press against yours, capturing them in a delicate kiss. His fingers softly caress your thighs under your skirt, coos of affection whispered in your ear. Together, you share smiles, gentle caresses, and tender kisses.

Engrossed in this bubble with Jaemin, you barely register Xiaojun's reaction. His quietness and frown might have caught your attention any other day, but today, the relief of no longer hiding overshadows everything else.

"Did you eat?" Jaemin's voice, low and caring, breaks the spell of your intimate moment. You respond with a shake of your head, and he takes it upon himself to feed you, his actions tender and attentive.

You and Jaemin said your goodbyes to your friends and you’re now walking side by side with him on campus, you find solace in his presence. Words are unnecessary; the silence between you isn't oppressive but rather comforting, a testament to the ease and understanding you share. You're aware of the curious glances directed your way, yet they don't unsettle you. Jaemin seems unfazed as well, his demeanor calm and reassuring.

The thought crosses your mind that you're under scrutiny, possibly judged, yet it doesn't disturb your peace. You recognize that there's nothing wrong in seeking happiness, in reveling in the warmth of Jaemin's hand in yours. However, the shadow of a past fear looms at the edge of your consciousness—the concern about Hyunjin's reaction, a person whose gaze alone might shatter your newfound tranquility.

You had your reasons for keeping your relationship with Jaemin a secret, predominantly due to apprehensions about Hyunjin's influence over your emotions and well-being. The thought of his control over your happiness scares you deeply. But fuck him. You refuse to allow him any power over your current joy.

Hand in hand with Jaemin, each step on the campus grounds feels like a declaration, a step towards what feels right. Despite the past fears and the potential judgement from Hyunjin or anyone else, this moment with Jaemin feels like where you're meant to be—free, unburdened, and genuinely happy.

In a moment that feels suspended in time, you and Jaemin come to a halt amidst the hum of campus life, now rendered inconsequential. The backdrop fades as he gently presses your back against the cool facade of a campus building, his gaze capturing yours with an intensity that's both mysterious and compelling.

Jaemin, with a slow, intentional movement, retrieves a blueberry lollipop from his pocket. The act of unwrapping it, taking a moment to savor its flavor, all the while holding your gaze, adds a layer of anticipation to the already charged atmosphere between you. The tension mounts, every gesture laden with unvoiced promises.

As he closes the distance, the air around you seems to thicken. When your lips finally meet, the kiss is not just an ordinary one—it's a fusion of sensations, the sweetness of the lollipop blending seamlessly with the moment's warmth. This kiss is a discovery, an intimate exploration that goes beyond the physical.

The initial surprise quickly gives way to a mutual passion, your response mirroring his intensity. Your hands find their way into his hair, drawing him closer, deepening the kiss. The flavor of blueberry envelops you, enhancing the experience, making it something entirely unique.

Suddenly, aware of the setting, you gently push him back, a whisper escaping your lips, "Everyone is gonna see us."

His response is a carefree shrug, the words almost a caress in themselves, "When a pretty girl asks me the flavor of my lollipop, should I say no?" His words, teasing yet sincere, dissolve any hesitation, reaffirming the connection between you.

Eager to reclaim the moment, your lips find his once more, reconnecting with an urgency that speaks volumes. This kiss is deeper, fueled by the brief pause, a blend of rebellion and affirmation of your bond. It's a declaration made without words, a shared understanding that what you have is worth the exposure, worth every risk. The sweet taste of the lollipop, now a symbol of your shared secret, lingers as a testament to the complex, beautiful dynamic you share with Jaemin.

The kiss, intense and filled with unspoken emotions, was Jaemin’s way of saying goodbye—a sweet, lingering farewell as he had classes for the rest of the day. You’re left with a smile on your lips, your cheeks burning with a flush that you try to hide by covering them with your hands. Waving goodbye, you watch Jaemin until he disappears from view, the memory of the kiss still vivid in your mind.

But the moment he’s out of sight, a shift occurs. Turning around, you’re confronted with the piercing gaze of Jang Yeeun, her eyes fixed on you with an intensity that feels like a cold shock in contrast to the warmth you just experienced. Her words cut through the air, sharp and accusatory: “So you’re the reason why Jaemin’s been ignoring all of my calls.”

liked it??? send me an ask please <333 please get back at me. give feedback and share your thoughts it would mean the world to me

comment to be added to the tag list for part 2!! (will be a 4 part series)

taglist - @sexygrass @tywritesstuff @666-aiko @leep0ems @kyuuniversee @daegalfangirl @side-effects @kgneptun @thecaffeinatedfangirl @i6renj @hcaeh @buns-inhiding @pinknjm @nominsgirl @liliansun @nominsgirl@ itserylyn1 @carelessshootanonymous @scarredrose25 @kuntyswife @siordior

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kingofbodyrolls · 6 months

Text

Learn to Love Again (m) | myg

Summary: People always leave. They become beautiful stars shining bright in the night sky. When life hands you lemons, you’ve been told to make lemonade, but that is hard when your soul and heart is breaking apart. When you rescue a tiny cat and meet a handsome stranger in the cafe, you finally feel yourself healing – but when they too leave, how are you going to learn to love again?

Pairing: Yoongi x reader (female, mainly called pet names so no ‘Y/N’).

AU + genres: Hybrid!au (shapeshifter!yoongi), strangers to lovers, slice of life, heavy angst, a lot of sadness and grief (I’m sorry!), dark vibes, smut and fluff and some humor sprinkled in there too.

Rating: Mature/explicit/R18 – this is mature/explicit content, so minors, please do not interact.

Word count: 19,4K

Disclaimer: I do not own BTS or know them personally and this work of fiction is purely fictional and for entertainment purposes only. The actions and personalities described in the story do not reflect those of BTS— it’s just fiction. Also, if you would kindly read the tags/warnings before reading, that would be lovely: and if you don’t like whatever is described in the tags, just hit return and find something else to read. Thank you 🌸

Warnings (general) + triggers: Heavy angst, extreme heavy sadness and grief, death of minor characters, mention of previous character death (parents and siblings), mentions of su*cide, mention of m*rder, su*cidal thoughts. Mention of past car accident. Mention of past domestic abuse. Mirrors 👀👀

Warnings (explicit): unprotected sex (please stay safe!), choking, oral (female receiving), nipple and breasts play, one-time use of a degrading word (otherwise petname), hair pulling – I guess it’s pretty vanilla with a slight sprinkle of spice 🤭

Author’s note (1): I know it sounds hella sad (and it is), but it is also very sweet and heartwarming too 💜 I wanted to venture into the darker stuff again, and embrace all the feelings and sadness that I felt a few weeks ago (I’m fine, well I’m getting through it at least).

If you are triggered by any of the warnings, I suggest that you skip this. It’s not that explicit though, but the heavy subjects are still there and they feature in it a lot.

Also, the quote “people always leave” features a lot in this and I only now realize why I find it so familiar – it’s a famous quote from Peyton Sawyer from One Tree Hill.

Author's note (2): It’s only partly edited, so I’m so sorry about any mistakes or weird wordings (English is also not my mother language). When I read it again, I felt sad and like the whole thing is crap (why do I also feel like this adgadfjkhs), BUT, I still like it, it’s a piece of my heart in there… I can’t just let it sit in my docs to collect dust. So – I’ll just post it early and never look at the thing again (expect for the cover, because damn I’m so happy with how that turned out 🥹).

Taglist: @keshiadeija @viankiss @hopefulrascalstatesmantoad If you prefer to read on AO3 you can also find it there 🙂

The heavens are weeping again, unleashing a torrential downpour that drums heavy on the windows. Just like the heavy beating of your heart and the tears that just won’t stop falling down your cheeks.

For days now, the world has languished in this disquiet, a foreboding atmosphere that has draped itself over every moment, casting a shadow even before the haunting ring of the call that echoed through the silence.

A searing, heart-wrenching call that etched itself into the fabric of your existence, standing out as one of the most agonizing moments life has ever dared to deliver.

Caught off guard by the unexpected twist of fate, it blindsided you, sending shockwaves through your core and leaving you utterly rattled, as if the very ground beneath your feet had shifted without warning.

Your conviction in her well-being crumbled as swiftly as a sandcastle against the tide.

In your last encounter, she radiated joy—her infectious happiness casting a brilliant glow over her words as she spoke about her new job, her blossoming romance, and her boundless love for life.

A tear, heavy with the weight of the contrast between then and now, traces a lonely path down your cheek.

The echo of her laughter, the sparkle in her eyes, and the unbridled excitement that made her hands tremble with anticipation haunted your memories.

It's a heart-wrenching juxtaposition between the happiness she projected and the sorrow now etched into the fabric of your own emotions.

She wasn't just a friend; she was your confidante, a steadfast companion through the labyrinth of years and experiences. Your best friend.

In the tapestry of your friendship, she emerged as the resplendent thread, the one who consistently outshone the rest.

Even on her darkest days, she radiated a brilliance that surpassed the ordinary, a celestial glow that left an indelible mark on your heart. To you, she wasn't just a friend; she was a luminous star, a breathtaking celestial entity whose untimely descent felt like a cosmic supernova, casting a blinding light that left everyone in its wake awestruck and forever changed.

Like a thunderbolt from a clear sky, the day she chose to end her own life blindsided everyone.

The abruptness of her decision, the finality of calling it quits, left a haunting question echoing in the hollow chambers of your soul—why?

The puzzle remains unsolved, the enigma of her despair a perplexing maze you can't navigate. Outwardly, her life seemed like a canvas painted in hues of contentment, yet the invisible struggles eluded comprehension.

Despite the deep conversations that usually wove through the tapestry of your friendship, the darkness she harbored never surfaced in her words. Her choice to shroud her pain in silence remains an unfathomable mystery, a tragic paradox that still elicits a profound sense of bewilderment.

The haunting ‘what if’ lingers, an elusive specter of regret—what if she had shared her struggles with you?

The possibility that your words could have been a lifeline is an uncharted sea of sorrow. The uncertainty, the unfulfilled potential for intervention, claws at your conscience like a relentless tempest.

In the wake of this unanswered plea for connection, tears cascade down your cheeks, each drop bearing the weight of unspoken conversations. The dampness on your collarbone, where your shirt clings uncomfortably, is a tangible reminder of the storm within.

A mere few days have crawled by since that fateful call, the kind that alters the very fabric of reality.

The echo of your friend's voice reverberates through your memory—a seismic revelation that shattered your world. As the words unfolded, you crumpled to the floor, the phone nearly slipping from your trembling grasp.

A gasp caught in your throat, a palpable surge of emotion crashing over you like a tidal wave.

In that harrowing moment, your heartbeat quickened, each thud resonating with the weight of sorrow and anger. The air itself seemed to constrict, tainted with the bitter aftertaste of an impending storm. The onslaught of emotions clawed at your chest, a tumultuous dance between sadness and anger, each one vying for dominance in the chaotic symphony of your soul.

Powerlessness wraps around you like a suffocating shroud, the absence of your brightest star leaving a void that seems insurmountable.

In this moment of staggering loss, the future unfolds as a vast expanse of uncertainty. How do you navigate a world without the radiant glow she once brought to your existence?

Yet, as the weight of grief presses down, a resilient ember flickers within. Acknowledging the inexorable march of time, you realize that her memory, like a cherished constellation, will be a guiding light in the night sky of your life.

In the tapestry of your emotions, she, alongside your parents, becomes one of the celestial beacons you look up to during moments of sorrow or when life's burdens become too overwhelming.

You step out onto the balcony, enveloped by the velvety embrace of the dark blue sky.

The resplendent moon takes center stage, surrounded by a constellation of bright companions that twinkle in the vast expanse of the night. The beauty of the cosmos is a bittersweet solace, a celestial dance that captivates your gaze.

The night sky has always held a captivating allure for you, but in the wake of the profound loss of your parents, it transcends mere beauty.

It becomes a sanctuary, a cosmic tapestry where memories linger among the stars. Each celestial beacon now carries the weight of cherished moments, transforming the night into a sacred canvas where the brilliance of your loved ones continues to shine, casting a radiant glow that lingers in the quiet moments of contemplation.

The subtle hum of your phone reverberates in your hand, a clandestine messenger that disrupts the tranquility of your thoughts, setting loose a cascade of emotions.

The screen lights up with a message from a friend, its arrival like a seismic tremor in the landscape of your contemplations, shaking loose the delicate balance you've tried so desperately to maintain.

Yuna [20.31]: Iseul’s funeral is on Saturday. We’re all going. U coming?🌹

Dread settles in the pit of your stomach like a heavy anchor – the thought of attending the funeral feels like navigating a tempest of emotions you're not sure you're prepared to weather.

The prospect of confronting tears, raw emotion, and the grieving presence of her family looms before you, casting a shadow over the already somber occasion.

Yet, duty intertwines with reluctance; you were her best friend, after all.

The expectation to pay your respects becomes an unspoken mandate, tugging at the seams of your resolve despite the storm of discomfort that brews within.

Tears have become an unwelcome torrent on your phone, transforming the smooth surface into a slippery terrain that complicates every attempt to type.

The screen blurs beneath a watery veil, mirroring the tumultuous cascade in your own eyes. Distraction clings to each droplet, making it not only challenging to navigate the phone but also to see through the emotional downpour that clouds your vision.

But against the deluge of sorrow and the weight of grief, you summon the strength for a brief reply, a fragile lifeline tossed into the turbulent sea of emotions.

You [20.46]: Yes🌹

With a heavy sigh, you gently lay your phone face-down on the nightstand, as if shielding the illuminated screen from the weight of the world you've just momentarily set aside.

How do you navigate this desolate landscape that life has become?

The void feels more palpable now, a haunting echo of emptiness that had lingered even before.

It's as if the very essence of existence has been drained away, leaving you grappling with the profound question: What is the point when the world around you continues to crumble, and people around you just keep dying?

At Iseul's funeral, you navigated the somber scene alongside your friend group, bracing for the emotional maelstrom that awaited.

The atmosphere unfolded exactly as you had anticipated — a tableau of tears, grief-stricken family members, and the embrace of mournful hugs. Conversations echoed with memories of Iseul's radiant spirit, each word a bittersweet tribute to the bright and bubbly soul that once graced your lives.

Amidst the collective sorrow, the air hung heavy with the weight of loss, weaving a tapestry of emotions that spoke to the indelible impact Iseul had left behind.

It was agonizing, bidding farewell in the harsh reality of acceptance. The harsh truth of life unveiled itself – an unrelenting cycle of departures.

Yet, amidst the crushing finality, you find solace in the enduring promise that even though everyone leaves, the stars above will forever bear witness to her presence, a cosmic constellation of memories that will continue to illuminate the canvas of your nights.

Work persists in its mundane rhythm, the monotony punctuated only by the forced smiles you offer customers as you brew their coffee or recommend delectable treats in the cafe.

For you, work has forever remained a sterile landscape, devoid of passion or purpose. The unfulfilled yearning for a meaningful career tugs at the edges of your consciousness, a persistent ache exacerbated by life's unrelenting cruelty—your unfinished degree in astrophysics stands as a testament to dreams deferred. Maybe you’ll go back to school – you don’t know.

Your thoughts are abruptly shattered by a brash intrusion, a man’s voice slicing through the ambient noise with an unwarranted familiarity. “Hi, pretty,” he drawls, snapping your attention to the present, “can I get a black coffee, a muffin, and your number, please?”

The audacious request hangs in the air, leaving a charged pause that crackles with a blend of amusement and annoyance.

You stifle a silent scoff, a careful veil to conceal the simmering irritation within, though the indignation is palpable.

This flirtatious interlude is far from novel—far from the first time someone has attempted to weave charm into the fabric of your workday. Yet, a discomforting truth lingers beneath your composed exterior: you disdain these unwarranted advances, a sentiment you've carried with you each time such encounters stain the ordinary canvas of your work.

Forcing a smile that feels more like a fragile mask, you locate a muffin, navigating the familiar routine with practiced efficiency.

As you approach the coffee machine to craft the requested brew, you gather both items and, with a subtle sigh, slide them across the counter.

Your words, delivered with a polite cadence, carry a hint of firmness as you say, “Here you go. Apologies, but my number isn't on the menu.”

Turning men down has become a skill honed through the crucible of experience, a necessity etched into the fabric of your being, especially after the wreckage of your last relationship.

It wasn't just a breakup; it was a tempest that left you bruised, not only on the surface but also in the recesses of your soul.

To declare a dread of relationships, despite the quiet longing that flickers deep within, would be an understatement—the mere thought evokes the echoes of a tumultuous past, a cautionary tale etched in both physical and emotional hues of black and blue.

Despite the man's disapproving frown, he begrudgingly parts with his payment, snatching his coffee and muffin.

As he vacates the space, you extend a tight-lipped greeting to the next customer, the forced smile a delicate masquerade concealing the intricacies of emotion churning beneath the surface.

Day after day unfolds in this relentless routine, a relentless loop where, despite the suffocating weight of depression, you muster the strength to haul yourself into work.

The struggle is an unspoken battle, fought in the silent recesses of your soul, and each morning becomes a victory against the persistent darkness that threatens to engulf your spirit.

You maintain a lifeline to your friends, weaving a narrative of your somber mood and emotional tumult, acutely aware of the significance of vocalizing your feelings rather than succumbing to the perilous grip of silent suffering.

Recent conversations with your friends have taken an unexpected turn, steering into the realm of your dating life or, more accurately, its conspicuous absence.

Their fervent advocacy for you to reenter the world of romance echoes in your ears, their well-intentioned pleas urging you to cross paths with someone great and amazing.

However, you find yourself standing at the crossroads of uncertainty, unsure if you're ready to navigate the labyrinth of love once more.

Despite your reservations, you indulge them, allowing their words to wash over you like a waterfall of unsolicited advice, all the while steadfast in your understanding that a man is not a prerequisite for happiness or the completeness of your life—you've long recognized your ability to stand firm and flourish on your own terms.

An entire season has unfurled its tapestry, and while the vast void persists within the caverns of your heart, there's a subtle transformation underway. Amidst the lingering shadows, a sliver of the sun's warm rays threads its way through, gently illuminating the emptiness.

The caress of warm weather and sunlight manages to coax a faint lift in your mood, a subtle thawing of the emotional frost.

Yet, amidst the burgeoning warmth, there's a yearning for the crispness of cold, the kind that invites the comfort of wool sweaters and socks, beckoning a desire to cocoon on the couch and lose yourself in the embrace of solitude.

After withstanding the relentless onslaught of your friends' persistent prodding into the realm of your love life, you've yielded to the chorus of their well-meaning badgering. With a mixture of trepidation and curiosity, you've made the bold decision to reenter the intricate dance of the dating game.

The prospect of discovering 'the one' remains shrouded in uncertainty, a delicate balance between the promise of profound connection and the potential peril of heartache from those who might not treat you right.

However, the ambiguity of the journey doesn't deter your resolve. To remain passive is to forfeit the chance at something extraordinary.

The echoes of Iseul and the silent encouragement from your departed parents reverberate, urging you to embrace life with all its intricate hues. Their unwritten wish for your happiness becomes the compass guiding your path, compelling you to take the plunge and give it your all.

You yearn for a life where the pursuit of happiness isn't punctuated by the haunting inevitability of departures and loss. You grasp the harsh truth that people leaving or departing through death is an inescapable facet of existence, a relentless current in the river of life.

Yet, the recurring tide of sorrow that washes over you each time someone departs feels burdensome, a weight that anchors your spirit. It would be a cherished reprieve if the ebb and flow of life's transitions didn't carry with it a relentless undertow that threatens to drag you down each time.

Your dating escapades have unfolded like a series of misadventures, each rendezvous more perplexing than the last.

One suitor wielded an aggressive tone that eclipsed any potential connection, while another was so absorbed in self-interest that your voice seemed but an echo in the conversation. Then there was the one who sought solace in your company to mend a broken heart, an unwitting participant in their quest for emotional repair.

With every disappointing encounter, your hopes wane like the dying embers of a once-bright flame. Yet, undeterred, you persist in the pursuit of connection, a resilient soul navigating the unpredictable seas of dating with unwavering determination.

Amidst the tumultuous sea of advice from your friends, the suggestion of a night out clubbing emerges as a potential remedy to jumpstart your dating life—a one-night stand, a shortcut to reclaiming agency over your love life.

However, the proposition fails to align with the essence of who you are. The neon-lit allure of the club scene doesn't resonate with your soul, and the idea of a fleeting encounter doesn't hold the promise you seek.

Nonetheless, you find yourself engulfed in a pulsating sea of sound, the music in the club roaring, the bass reverberating through the floor and into your bones.

The atmosphere is a maelstrom of heat and sweat, a suffocating embrace that intensifies your regret for being there.

Yuna, exuding an air of confidence, takes charge and orders a round of drinks for the group. Meanwhile, Nari's eyes scan the lively chaos of the club, a vigilant matchmaker on a mission to uncover potential matches for you.

Her finger extends with a pointed certainty toward a mysterious figure—a dark-haired man sporting a sleeveless shirt, the canvas of his arm adorned with an intricate tattoo sleeve. His dark eyes, scanning the crowded expanse of the club, carry an enigmatic intensity, hinting at a captivating allure that goes beyond the surface.

Your laughter carries a blend of amusement and skepticism as you dismissively remark, “Nah, he's giving off major fuckboy vibes.”

Amidst the cacophony of pounding music in the club, Nari practically shouts in your face, her words punctuating the beat as she insists, “Maybe that's exactly what you need!”

The intensity of her proclamation, a fervent plea for spontaneity, reverberates in the air, a challenge thrown into the whirlwind of the night's possibilities.

You shake your head, a firm yet polite rejection lingering on your lips, “No, thank you.”

Just as the tension subsides, Yuna appears with a tray of drinks, a timely distraction. Gratefully, you accept your drink, savoring the sweet and sour concoction that dances across your palate, momentarily providing respite from the charged atmosphere of the club.

The night unfolds in a rhythm of measured indulgence—a few drinks to chase a gentle buzz, steering clear of the edge of intoxication. Your gaze scans the crowd in search of potential matches, but amidst the pulsating lights and swirling music, none captures the elusive spark that ignites a genuine interest.

As the night deepens and the rhythm of the club starts to fade, you bid farewell to your friends, the weight of the evening settling in your bones.

Stepping out into the nocturnal air, you're greeted by the relentless cascade of rain, a torrential downpour that catches you off guard. Damn it, you realize, a surge of annoyance coursing through you, you didn't bring an umbrella.

Embracing a sudden burst of defiance, you make a split-second decision, a resolute ‘fuck it’ echoing in your mind.

Stepping onto the sidewalk without the shelter of an umbrella, you surrender to the unrelenting rain. In mere moments, your hair clings to your skin, and your clothes succumb to the downpour.

As you navigate the labyrinth of alleys and pass by numerous apartments, a peculiar low noise infiltrates the ambient hum of the rain. What is that sound?

It's a subtle yet persistent calling that arrests your movements, compelling you to strain your senses in an attempt to decipher its origin.

It's not just your slightly tipsy mind, is it, playing tricks on you?

The cadence of the noise feels like a desperate plea, an ethereal call for help that beckons you into a mysterious dance between reality and the unknown.

Undeterred by the absence of street lamps, you navigate a shadowy alleyway nestled between looming apartment complexes. The darkness cloaks the path ahead, but you press on, an intrepid explorer drawn to the mystery that lies beyond the veil of obscurity.

As you draw nearer, the enigmatic noise crescendos in intensity, a haunting melody that pierces the quiet of the alley.

Your steps quicken, and with each stride, the source becomes clearer. Could it be emanating from the depths of the dumpster?

A sense of déjà vu wraps around you, as if this eerie scene has been lifted from a cinematic reel. The dilemma tugs at your curiosity, tempting you to peer into the abyss of the dumpster, a choice that hangs in the balance.

Yet, before you make a decision, a glimmer of relief washes over you.

Nestled snugly beside the dumpster, a small ball of fur captivates your attention, its presence a stark contrast to the ominous shadows.

A silhouette emerges from the darkness, and as you inch closer, the mystery unfolds into a shivering, meowing figure—a black cat.

The frailness of the tiny creature tugs at your heartstrings, and you find yourself hunching down, extending a tentative invitation with soft calls, coaxing the small, ebony bundle to bridge the gap between its vulnerability and your outstretched hand.

The black cat fixes its gaze upon you, eyes mirroring a blend of uncertainty and wariness, as if it's attempting to decipher the intentions behind your outstretched hand.

The black cat stirs from its initial hesitation, uttering plaintive meows that seem to echo its distress. As it rises, the stark reality becomes evident—malnourished and shrouded in fear, it moves tentatively towards you. Each step seems to echo a history of abandonment and struggle. With aching slowness, the feline inches closer, navigating the wet ground with trepidation.

Softly, you beckon the malnourished feline closer, the words “Come here, you poor thing” carrying an invitation laced with compassion.

As the tiny creature inches nearer, its pitch-black eyes become an intense focal point, a gaze that transcends the physical realm, peering into the depths of your soul. In that poignant exchange, a silent pact forms—an unspoken promise of comfort and understanding between two beings, each seeking solace in the other's company.

As the fragile black cat draws near, an echo from your past resurfaces—the cautionary words of your mother reverberating in your mind. ‘Black cats bring omen and death,’ her voice, etched in childhood memories, had warned.

Yet, confronted with the stark vulnerability of this shivering, lost creature in the cold summer rain, you find your resolve tested.

Against the weight of your mother's superstitions, compassion prevails, and you make a conscious decision to offer refuge. You haven’t got anything else to lose, but yourself.

The cat's purrs resonate in the quiet alley, a melodic response to the tentative connection forming between you. Meows become a symphony of trust as it finally caresses your hand, a delicate dance of vulnerability.

With a newfound intimacy, it leans into your touch, climbing up your arm to find refuge in your lap. Despite your jacket's damp embrace, you pull the shivering creature closer, enfolding it tightly against your chest.

“I’ll take you home and get you some food.”

Rising from the damp alley, you cradle the tiny black cat in your arms, an intimate embrace that transcends the physicality of the moment. As you navigate the journey home, each step becomes a testament to the newfound connection—its fragile heartbeat resonating against your chest.

As you finally reach the sanctuary of your home, both you and the shivering cat are thoroughly drenched from the relentless rain.

With a twist of the key, you unlock the door to your small apartment, ushering in a breath of warmth that contrasts sharply with the damp chill outside.

In a choreography of relief, you kick off your sodden shoes, the cat nestled at your feet. Unburdened by the weight of the rain-soaked coat, you hang it on the rack, a visual symbol of the transition from the stormy world outside to the comforting refuge within the four walls of your home.

“I'll find you a towel and dry you off,” you promise to the cat, your words a tender reassurance before your feet. With a sense of urgency, you hasten to the bathroom, a quest for a towel becoming a mission to provide comfort to your newfound companion.

As you return, traces of wet footprints mark the path from the entryway to your living room, leading to the sight of the cat perched regally on your couch.

The unexpected image elicits a sense of awe within you, a silent marvel at the fortuitous encounter that has unfolded. With the fluffy towel in hand, you join the tiny creature on the couch.

With gentle strokes, you tenderly dry the cat with the fluffy towel, the rhythmic purrs and meows resonating like a melody of gratitude.

In this intimate act of care, a bond forms between you and the feline, its response a testament to the shared understanding that has quietly blossomed.

The dampness of the storm may linger outside, but within the confines of your home, a warmth permeates, forged through the simple yet profound act of offering comfort to a fragile soul.

Persistently, the cat continues its chorus of meows, its nearly obsidian eyes fixed on you with an intensity that transcends mere feline curiosity. In the silent exchange, a profound question lingers in the air—what does it want?

The gaze carries an almost pleading quality, an unspoken plea that invites you to unravel the mysteries hidden within those enigmatic eyes, and in doing so, embark on a journey of connection and understanding with this small, mysterious soul.

A revelation flickers in your mind like a sudden burst of light—food!

The realization washes over you, and a spark of understanding illuminates the unspoken hunger behind those pleading eyes. “You're starving, ain't ya?” you murmur, the words a bridge between the two of you, an acknowledgment of shared needs and the beginning of a silent commitment to provide not just shelter but sustenance to this small, hungry soul.

In a hurried dance between care and necessity, you dart into the kitchen, swinging open the fridge door to unleash a blast of cold air.

The realization that your wet clothes might lead to an impending cold nudges at you, urging a brief pause for self-care. As you contemplate changing into dry attire, the cat, now a nimble companion, weaves around your feet, a symphony of meows echoing its anticipation of the impending feast.

As your gaze sweeps across the contents of the fridge, a flurry of questions dance in your mind—what do cats like?

In a moment of culinary improvisation, you spot the remnants of yesterday's fish. A hopeful assumption takes hold—cats like fish, right?

Without a second thought, you snatch the container, crack it open, and ceremoniously place it on the floor.

The cat descends upon the fish with a voracity that borders on desperation, consuming it in a whirlwind of seconds.

You observe in silent fascination as the cat devours the fish with an almost primal fervor, each bite a testament to the depth of its hunger.

As the cat lifts its gaze, those dark, fond eyes fixate on you, a silent expression of gratitude that transcends words, forging a connection that lingers in the air like the sweet aftertaste of an unexpected bond.

You retrieve a bowl, fill it with water, and place it on the floor. The cat, having satisfied its hunger, wastes no time. It immediately dips its tongue into the water, each lap a testament to the thirst that had accompanied its hunger.

In the quiet aftermath of the cat's meal, you find yourself engaged in a one-sided conversation. While it laps up the water, you speak to it with a hint of longing, as if expecting the feline to reveal its name with a mere glance. “I don't know what your name is…” you muse aloud, your words hanging in the air like a silent plea for connection.

In the exchange, a profound yearning takes root—a desire not just to care for this creature but to unravel the mystery that shrouds it, beginning with the revelation of a name.

Hmm... A whimsical idea takes shape in your mind, and with a voice full of hope, you share your musings with the feline companion. “I don't know, maybe I'll give you one!” you exclaim, the words tinged with the excitement of a newfound connection.

Testing the waters, you propose a couple of names with a hopeful lilt in your voice. “Shadow?” you venture, eyes fixated on the cat, seeking any flicker of recognition.

Yet, met with a stoic demeanor, you playfully offer another option, “Licorice?”

A soft chuckle escapes your lips, but the cat remains unfazed, engrossed in its culinary pursuits.

Embracing a sudden surge of inspiration, you think of a name that dances on the edges of whimsy and mischief. “You look like a 'Loki,' like a God of Mischief!” The words tumble out with a playful chuckle, a nod to the elusive charm that shrouds the feline.

To your surprise, the cat interrupts its feast, casting what seems like a dumbfounded expression your way.

A moment of shared acknowledgment hangs in the air before the cat resumes its meal, leaving you to wonder if, in that fleeting pause, you've glimpsed the spark of recognition in its enigmatic eyes.

An impromptu burst of enthusiasm seizes you, and with an abrupt yell, you christen the cat in a moment of whimsy. “Kitten!”

The exclamation is so sudden that it startles the cat, prompting a small leap in surprise. “That's your name. You're so small, like a little kitten,” you playfully jest, mimicking the affectionate cooing one might give to a baby.

In the imaginary realm where cats understand human whims, you half-expect a hypothetical eye-roll, as if the creature were a miniature human indulging in the theatrics of a quirky naming ceremony.

In the wake of your spontaneous naming ceremony, Kitten darts away, a streak of fur and energy leaving you in its playful wake. A fleeting attempt to follow its swift movements reveals the futility of keeping pace with this agile companion.

An earnest plea escapes your lips, “No, don't run away, Kitten!” A plea that halts not far from your bedroom, where a sudden idea takes root. “We're going to bed, and you can even sleep in my bed.” The promise hangs in the air, an invitation that sparks the cat's curiosity.

Without hesitation, Kitten races back to you, weaving through your legs and darting into the bedroom. It watches itself in the mirror in front of your bed, before it in a graceful leap, lands on the bed, transforming this impromptu offer into a shared moment of warmth and companionship.

A soft chuckle escapes you as Kitten, with a graceful twirl, transforms into a snug, fluffy black ball. It settles onto the bed, a picture of contentment and trust, the rhythmic rise and fall of its breathing echoing in the room.

In the sanctuary of your bathroom, the day's residue fades away as you delicately remove stained makeup and indulge in your nightly skincare rituals.

With a sense of quiet reverence, you return to the bedroom, mindful not to disrupt Kitten's serene repose. Nestled in bed, you prop yourself up, the rhythmic routine a prelude to the tranquility that envelops the room.

As you surrender to the embrace of sleep, the ethereal presence of the black cat becomes a silent companion in the journey between waking and dreams, a guardian of the night's secrets.

In the intimate company of Kitten, you find solace in the honesty of your own reflection. “He wasn't really for me, Kitten. I don't know why I keep going on these dates. They amount to nothing.” A sigh punctuates your admission, a subtle echo of the unspoken search for connection that seems elusive in the realm of human encounters.

As you delve into a shared meal with your newfound family member – Kitten, you stuff your face with delicious food in an attempt to keep your minds off your failing romantic life.

Kitten responds to your words with a series of gentle meows, a seemingly agreeable chorus that resonates in the room.

Over the past few days, he has transformed into an impeccable listener, absorbing the tapestry of your thoughts with silent grace.

In the quiet moments of your soliloquies, a yearning surfaces—a desire for more than a feline confidant, for words that echo back with advice and wisdom.

Yet, despite this unfulfilled wish, Kitten's silent companionship remains a source of profound comfort, his presence weaving seamlessly into the fabric of your daily life, a testament to the unexpected connections that emerge in the quiet interludes of solitude.

Consistent as the rhythm of a heartbeat, Kitten is there, a patient sentinel awaiting your return from the hustle of the day.

His presence becomes a cherished routine, an embodiment of comfort that transcends the mundanity of the everyday.

As you settle in front of the television, Kitten gracefully claims his place in your lap, his form snuggling into the contours of your warmth.

The scene unfolds like a silent ballet, a dance between two beings finding solace in the quietude of shared moments—a testament to the profound bond that has blossomed in the intimate spaces of your daily life.

On a day marked by what you'd deem a successful date, you decide to bring the guy home to your apartment.

Kitten welcomes you with joyous meows, but the moment his obsidian eyes lock onto the man, a palpable shift occurs.

The cat's once-hospitable demeanor morphs into a display of territorial assertion—he hisses, claws unsheathed, a guardian of the sacred space that has become both haven and sanctuary.

Unfazed by Kitten's display of discontent, the man follows you into the bedroom, a trail of unresolved tension lingering in the air. However, as you attempt to navigate the fragile balance between human relationships and the silent protests of your feline confidant, Kitten stalks in with palpable anger.

Kitten's claws assert their protest on the man's pants, a silent plea echoing through the room. “I'm so sorry about my cat. He's not usually like this,” you hastily apologize, attempting to navigate the tumultuous intersection of human connection and feline territoriality.

In the midst of the uneasy dance, the guy gently guides you down onto the bed, a kiss bridging the gap between words left unsaid and the uncharted landscapes of desire.

In an unforeseen twist, Kitten catapults onto the bed, launching a surprise attack on the poor man's back with unbridled ferocity.

The room erupts with a sudden commotion as the guy yells in pain, Kitten swiftly retreating to the shelter of your startled embrace.

Frustration and pain tinge the man's voice as he vehemently declares, “Fuck this. This isn't worth it! Your cat is a fucking psycho!”

The words hang in the air, a bitter testament to the unexpected turbulence that has unraveled in the wake of Kitten's feline intervention.

With an angry storm, the man storms out of your bedroom and through the front door, leaving behind a charged atmosphere and the unresolved echoes of a connection unraveling at the seams.

As the storm of emotions settles, Kitten finds solace in your lap, a contented purr resonating through the room—a feline sovereign basking in the aftermath of his territorial triumph.

Meanwhile, you remain seated, mouth agape, an image of stunned disbelief etched across your face.

You address Kitten with a scolding tone, attempting to impart a sense of reprimand into the air. “You can't do that, Kitten!” you assert, a firmness in your voice attempting to breach the language barrier between human and feline.

Amidst the aftermath, a hesitant chuckle escapes your lips, a soft attempt to diffuse the tension that lingers in the air. “Also, you're gonna leave me single forever if you do that,” you jest, the words bearing the weight of both humor and a subtle unease.

In the ambiguous space between laughter and contemplation, you grapple with the conflicting emotions stirred by Kitten's unexpected display of protectiveness—a complex blend of gratitude, amusement, and the uncharted territories of understanding the intricate dynamics of companionship with a creature whose language transcends the boundaries of words.

A solitary figure with raven-black hair occupies a corner table in the cafe, his presence shrouded in an air of quiet mystery that tugs at the edges of your memory.

Intrigued, you've stolen glances at him, an unspoken connection sparking curiosity within you.

The man, seemingly lost in a world of words and sketches within the pages of his journal, emanates a strange familiarity that dances on the fringes of your consciousness.

As he sips on his coffee, a poignant picture of solitude and anticipation, you can't help but wonder about the untold story woven into the fabric of his contemplative gaze. Perhaps he's a poet awaiting inspiration, or maybe, like you, he's caught in the delicate dance of anticipation, waiting for someone who may never arrive.

His long, pitch-black hair cascades in soft curls, framing a face adorned with dark, expressive eyes. The fair and creamy complexion of his skin, paired with lips tinged with the aftermath of fervent bites, adds an air of mystery to his features. His hands, adorned with prominent veins, move with purpose across the pages of his journal, translating the thoughts within his mind into tangible strokes. Clad in a black leather biker jacket and ripped jeans, he emanates a ‘bad boy’ allure that might not align with your usual preferences, yet there's an undeniable handsomeness that transcends the surface. As you observe, the truth unfolds—looks can be deceiving, you know.

As the hands of the clock inch towards the conclusion of your shift, you notice the enigmatic man with the pitch-black hair has vanished, leaving only the echo of his presence lingering in the now vacant corner.

The air is charged with the unspoken allure of an encounter that slipped through the fingers of time.

Packing up your belongings, you carry the weight of curiosity with you as you embark on the journey home, where the enigmatic enigma of Kitten awaits.

Kitten, sensing your return, greets you with a symphony of affectionate meows. Your hand instinctively reaches out, weaving a tapestry of gentle pats and strokes, an unspoken language shared between human and feline. With a contented sigh escaping your lips, you murmur, “Happy to be home.”

In the quiet sanctuary of your apartment, you find yourself recounting the day's enigmatic encounter to Kitten, the words lingering in the air like a shared secret between kindred spirits. “I saw the loneliest guy today, Kitten. It felt like he was waiting for someone, but destiny stood him up.”

As the words escape your lips, Kitten's attentive gaze reflects an unspoken understanding, a silent pact shared between you and your feline confidant.

Your fingers delicately dance behind Kitten's ears, a gesture that elicits a symphony of contented purrs, resonating within the confines of your quiet haven.

The next day unfolds like a familiar scene, the cafe's atmosphere steeped in the aroma of coffee and the rustle of pages turning.

Once again, the mysterious black-haired man graces the corner with his presence, accompanied by a steaming cup of coffee and the enigmatic dance of his pen across the pages of his journal.

Your curiosity, a flame flickering in the recesses of your thoughts, draws you to the edge of decision — to approach and unravel the mysteries that cloak him. Yet, an invisible barrier holds you back, a silent pact with yourself not to disturb the solitary poet whose verses remain unread.

The elusive man, shrouded in the mystery of unread words, remains a realm unexplored, as each coffee order becomes a bridge guarded by your coworker.

As the day unfolds, the mysterious man persists in his corner, a captivating enigma that draws your attention like a moth to a flame.

The rhythmic ballet of your daily routine continues, an intricate dance of serving customers while stealing glances in his direction.

In the quiet recesses of your mind, a burning question simmers – who could possibly stand up this captivating soul, adorned with the allure of dark hair and an air of mystery that commands the room?

After days of observing the silent saga of the man and his solitude, a week of unbroken routine, your empathy swells like a rising tide.

A magnetic force compels you to bridge the distance, and against the backdrop of the cafe's ambient hum, your feet, as if guided by an invisible hand, carry you to the table where he patiently awaits an absent companion.

With a mix of curiosity and compassion, you settle into the chair opposite him, breaking the invisible barrier that held you apart.

As your presence disrupts the solitude he had grown accustomed to, his intense gaze, reminiscent of a predatory feline, lifts from the pages of his journal to meet your own. The sharpness in his eyes feels like a calculated assessment, causing a subtle tremor to course through you. You gulp.

“Hi,” you start, the uncertainty palpable in your voice. Attempting to mask your nervousness, your fingers run through your hair, a feeble defense against the anxious tide.

“I’ve noticed you here alone for the past few days, and I just—” Your words stumble, caught in the rush, but before you can continue, he interjects with a voice sharp as a blade, his eyes piercing through you like he can unravel your deepest secrets.

“Are you stalking me?” The question hangs in the air, and his gaze feels like an X-ray, laying bare your darkest thoughts. Your body seizes, frozen in the penetrating gaze that seems to pry into the very recesses of your soul.

Why does his voice carry a hint of familiarity, resonating through the air like an echo from another time?

His very presence, too, feels like a distant memory, even though you're certain you hadn't laid eyes on him before he entered the cafe a week ago.

A subtle smirk plays on his lips, a realization dawning on you that he's asked a question. As you attempt to gather your thoughts, you find yourself choking on air, grappling to string together a coherent response.

“I'm kidding. I know you work here,” he chuckles, and you release a breath you hadn't realized you were holding. Your shoulders ease, and in an instant, you respond with a soft smile, a subtle connection forming in that shared moment of relief.

“Are you waiting for someone?” you inquire, and a smile graces his face, revealing gleaming white teeth and pink gums. He looks cute. Dangerously so.

“Nah. She just arrived.” Your eyes light up. Finally, his date has shown up! You start to rise from your chair, eager to make space for his companion. He looks up at you, a curious expression on his face, and asks, “What are you doing?”

“Making room for your date?” you quip, utterly dumbfounded.

“Date?” he asks with a raised brow. You nod, adding, “The one you’ve been waiting for.”

“But I’m already looking at her.” Your mouth hangs wide open; did you just hear him right? Is this a pickup line? And why on earth is it working?

You chuckle nervously, the sound a stark contrast to his calm and cool demeanor.

You ease back into your chair, and the conversation flows so naturally that you feel like you've known him for years.

Upon returning home, you excitedly share the details of your day with Kitten, recounting the encounter with the handsome man with his curly hair and piercing eyes. While you stroke Kitten and he purrs contentedly, you express your perplexity about the strange sense of familiarity the man emanated, despite being certain you've never met him before.

Kitten twirls and purrs in your lap, savoring the gentle strokes as you recline on your couch.

“I can't help but wonder if he'll be there again tomorrow,” you muse, your voice a soft melody to the room, accompanied by Kitten's content purrs.

He returned to the cafe the next day, and the next and the next turned into weeks.

He dedicates every moment to his secluded corner, and during your breaks you find solace in the cadence of your conversations. His name, Yoongi, resonates with the soulful poems that he breathes life into with his well-worn guitar. You’ve never heard him play or sing, but you look forward to the day you might.

His question pierces through the hum of the café, abruptly pulling you from your reverie as you delicately nibble on your muffin. “Are you heading home for the summer break?” he inquires, the unexpected interruption leaving a sweet and curious taste lingering on your lips.

As his question hangs in the air, you lock eyes with him, realizing he might not grasp the gravity of his inquiry.

There's a momentary sag in your shoulders, a silent acknowledgment of the pain that lies beneath. Gathering the strength to respond, you share a piece of your past, “No. My parents died when I was young.”

Regret casts a shadow over his striking features in an instant, and you witness a profound apology escaping from his lips.

“I'm holding up okay. It's a tale from a while back. A car accident took my parents, leaving just my little sister and me as survivors,” you share, a poignant sadness threading through your words, your eyes misting with the memories.

He tenderly offers words of comfort, a soothing balm for your weary soul, and you allow him to lift the heaviness that clings to your spirit.

You beam at him, grateful for the warmth that radiates from his kind soul, a presence you've grown to cherish over the past few months. “And you, any exciting plans for the summer?”

“I might have to go home to my parents for a bit, but I’m not sure yet,” he shares, absentmindedly running his fingers through his soft black locks, a gesture that makes you yearn for the touch of your own hand in that sea of darkness.

“I'm telling you, bitch!” Nari slaps Yuna's thigh, a bit too enthusiastically, causing her to flinch in pain, as Nari adds with a sly grin, “She's head over heels in loooove.”

You roll your eyes at both of them, their playful banter fading into background noise as you savor the drink that Yuna ordered for you.

You've navigated downtown, finding refuge in a cozy establishment where the ambient tunes, board games, and drinks create the perfect backdrop for reconnecting with your friends.

“I swear, I'm not head over heels or anything,” you insist, batting away their teasing with a playful smirk, all the while sipping on the drink that Yuna ordered for you.

“He’s just nice,” you add with a soft smile.

“You sure do talk about him a lot,” Yuna adds in a chuckle as she rubs her thigh.

“Well, he's an interesting person, and the conversations just flow,” you reply with a grin, downplaying the significance, but your friends exchange knowing glances that hint at their suspicions.

Nari takes a sip of her drink, a mischievous glint in her eyes. “Speaking of crushes, your little companion, what's his name again? Kitten?”

You passionately defend Kitten, your eyes sparkling with affection. “Don't bring Kitten into this! I adore him,” you gush, wearing your love for the little furball as a badge of honor.

Nari shares her romantic wisdom, her words dripping with affection. “Cats are fine companions, but you should find a man who can bring you warmth and happiness,” she says, her eyes practically turning into hearts if this were a cartoon. You can't help but chuckle at her earnest advice.

Yuna playfully nudges your shoulder and suggests, “You should totally ask out this Yoongi guy. I mean, come on, you practically light up every time you talk about him.”

You pause, a moment of uncertainty hanging in the air. “Maybe,” you finally reply, your words carrying the weight of contemplation.

Nari's enthusiasm rings in your ears, a bit too loud in the cozy ambiance. “You don't have anything to lose, only more to gain!” she almost shouts, her excitement reaching its peak. Her words, fueled by a touch of intoxication, linger in the air, leaving you to ponder as you consider whether it's time to call it a night.

“Okay. I’ll ask him tomorrow.”

As you step into your apartment, Kitten greets you with an extra dose of affection, weaving himself between your legs and trailing you with heightened attention. Tonight, he appears more attuned to your every move, purring and twirling around your legs with an endearing neediness. Settling down, you can't resist his charms and find yourself seated, offering gentle strokes to his fur-covered frame.

As you wrap up your nightly routine and slip into your comfortable pajamas, you turn to Kitten with a question that has become a familiar part of your routine.

“I'm heading to bed, Kitten. You joining?” Kitten promptly leaps onto the bed, taking his customary place by your side.

However, tonight, there's a lingering sense of affection in his actions. He showers you with gentle licks, a gesture that brings a smile to your face. As sleep gradually claims you, your dreams are adorned with vivid images of obsidian eyes and a dark, star-studded sky.

As you awaken from a restful sleep, the absence of Kitten by your side strikes you like a sudden jolt.

Your initial response is to sit up, calling out for him, yet there's only silence in return.

The quietness, once comforting, now carries an eerie weight as you realize the profound impact Kitten has had on your daily life.

The room feels emptier, and a sense of unease settles in, disrupting the peace you've grown accustomed to.

A wave of melancholy washes over you, creating a heavy ache in your chest as you scan the familiar corners of your apartment, desperately searching for any sign of Kitten.

The unanswered questions pile up in your mind, a torrent of worries threatening to drown you. Did he, too, decide to leave, slipping away like others from your life?

The uncertainty gnaws at you, pushing you to venture into the quiet streets, hoping against hope to uncover the fate of your feline companion. Each step is a mix of trepidation and determination, a journey into the unknown to retrieve the missing piece of your daily existence.

A sense of desperation tightens its grip as you scour every nook and cranny, but Kitten remains elusive, leaving you with the bitter taste of vanishing hope.

The echoes of your unanswered calls hang in the air, blending with the growing unease that clings to you like a shadow. The once familiar spaces now feel like a maze, and you can't shake the sinking feeling that your luck is slipping away, slipping through your fingers like grains of sand. The haunting question persists: where could he be, and what could have taken him from your side?

With a mixture of determination and trepidation, your feet instinctively carry you back to the cafe.

The familiar chime announces your arrival, drawing the attention of your coworker, who casts a puzzled look your way. The early hour has caught them off guard, their raised eyebrow mirroring the questions that dance in your own mind.

As you scan the cozy confines of the cafe, a subtle panic begins to creep through your veins. The absence of Yoongi creates an uneasy knot in your stomach, but you reassure yourself, clinging to the hope that he might stroll in later, as he often does.

The hours drag on, each passing moment heightening the anticipation. As the door chimes with every newcomer, a flicker of hope dances in your chest, only to be extinguished when it's not Yoongi.

The day becomes a symphony of disappointment, and the subtle hope you clung to begins to dissipate, slipping through your fingers like elusive grains of sand. The cafe, once a haven of warmth and comfort, now feels eerily empty without the presence of his familiar silhouette.

As your shift draws to a close, a heavy sadness settles over you like a thick fog. The absence of Yoongi, who always brought a touch of warmth to the cafe, leaves an emptiness that echoes through the familiar surroundings. The unanswered questions linger in your mind, and a nagging worry creeps in — what could have kept him away?

The air is charged with uncertainty, and you can't shake the feeling that something might have happened to him.

A sudden realization hits you like a wave, as you recall Yoongi mentioning the possibility of traveling to his parents for the summer break.

The initial sting of disappointment transforms into a pang of concern. Questions swirl in your mind like a tempest – did he leave without saying goodbye? Why didn't he share his plans with you?

The uncertainty gnaws at your thoughts, and you grapple with the unknown, desperately seeking solace in the memories of your time together.

A disquieting sensation twists in your stomach, an ominous premonition casting a shadow over your thoughts. The unease tightens its grip, leaving you with an unsettling sense that something may have befallen Yoongi.

Your mind races through various scenarios, each more distressing than the last, as you grapple with the haunting uncertainty that looms over his absence.

Regret echoes through your thoughts like a haunting refrain. The absence of contact details with Yoongi leaves you grappling with the repercussions of a missed opportunity, a seemingly insignificant detail now carrying the weight of your uncertainty.

A sense of loss and yearning wraps around you, intensifying the void created by the absence of a farewell. The realization dawns that in the midst of budding connection, you failed to secure a bridge to traverse the distance that now separates you.

Each step on the journey home feels like a weighted march, the heaviness of unspoken goodbyes sinking into your bones.

Sorrow, like a relentless tide, floods your heart, consuming it with an ache that echoes through each footfall. Familiar pangs of longing claw at your chest, constricting breaths into fleeting gasps.

It's as if the very air you breathe carries the weight of an unfinished story, leaving you to navigate the foggy terrain of uncertainty, the poignant residue of an incomplete connection lingering in the spaces between each step.

A tempest of thoughts unleashes in your mind, a whirlwind of self-doubt and abandonment. The notion that he, too, might have slipped away like others before him wraps around your heart, squeezing it in an unforgiving grip. The ache is palpable, resonating through every fiber of your being. It's an anguish that cuts deep, a symphony of hurt orchestrated by the haunting possibility that echoes in the chambers of your wounded heart.

In the intricate tapestry of your time knowing him, he wasn't just a passing figure; he had etched himself into the mosaic of your life, becoming a fragment that held the essence of friendship.

You step into the sanctuary of your apartment, liberating your feet from the constraints of shoes, and collapse onto the couch, surrendering to its plush contours that cradle you in a cocoon of solace.

In the midst of trying to regain control of your racing breaths, a subtle vibration resonates from your pocket, drawing your attention like a lifeline. Retrieving your phone, you cast an intrigued glance at the illuminated screen, revealing an incoming call from Yuna.

With bated breath, you answer the call, the familiar cadence of Yuna's voice instantly arresting your senses.

An unexpected wave of emotions surges through you, freezing you in the moment as her words weave a narrative you weren't prepared for.

The weight of her words hangs heavy in the air, a heartbreaking tremor in her voice as she struggles to regain composure.

“Babe,” she utters, the tearful plea slicing through the silence like a dagger.

You can feel the gravity of the situation intensify as she reveals, “It's Nari,” the name echoing with a sense of foreboding that pierces through the air, leaving you breathless.

Dread hangs thick in the air as you muster the courage to ask, your voice trembling with fear and concern. “What about Nari?”

The words escape your lips, each syllable a hesitant step into the unknown, and as you sit up on your couch, a sense of urgency grips you, rendering you more alert than ever before.

The weight of Yuna's words crashes over you like an unrelenting wave, drowning your senses.

“She's gone,” Yuna sobs, her cries echoing in your ears.

A sudden chill grips your entire body, and the world around you blurs as your vision turns white.

Tears well up, threatening to spill over, and an indescribable ache settles in the core of your being. It feels as if the ground beneath you has shifted, leaving you suspended in a surreal and devastating moment.

Your voice quivers as you manage to break through the numbness, the question escaping your lips like a fragile whisper.

“How?” you repeat, the word catching in the tightness of your throat. Tears cascade down your cheeks, each drop carrying the weight of an ocean, a torrential release of the overwhelming emotions within you.

Your friend's voice wavers with sorrow as she delivers the painful revelation. “Apparently, she was sick and didn’t tell anybody…”

Each word, heavy with the burden of the unspoken, echoes in the emptiness of your apartment.

The truth, a bitter pill to swallow, lingers in the air, and you find it hard to comprehend the reality of the situation.

The walls of your sanctuary, once comforting, now press in on you, transforming your home into a claustrophobic cage of grief. The world outside seems to blur, and all that remains is the weight of disbelief settling on your shoulders.

The longing to share your grief with Yoongi intensifies, yet the barrier of not having his contact details becomes a painful obstacle. Your emotions, already tumultuous, now surge like a tempest within.

Frustration and sorrow intermingle, a chaotic dance that you try to contain.

As the weight of the news presses down on you, your nails unconsciously dig into your skin, seeking an outlet for the overwhelming emotions that threaten to consume you. The physical pain becomes a tangible manifestation of the emotional turmoil churning within.

The abruptness of Nari's illness and passing hits you like an unforeseen storm, leaving you grappling with disbelief.

Memories of her last moments flash vividly, and you question the cruel twist of fate that snatched away someone seemingly healthy. The sounds of inconsolable sobbing echo in your ears, and only then do you realize that the mournful cries tearing through the air belong to you.

“Are you alright?” Yuna asks you in sobs.

The weight of grief presses down on you, suffocating and relentless.

As the tears stream down your face, each one carries a piece of the pain that now resides within you.

“No,” you whisper, the word a feeble attempt to encapsulate the magnitude of your despair.

Your body curls inwards, seeking solace in the fetal position, as if you could fold away the anguish.

The phone lies beside you, a lifeline to Yuna's distant sobs, but it offers little comfort compared to the absent warmth of Kitten, whose presence could once bring solace to even the darkest moments.

The weight of Yuna's words hangs heavy in the air, a shroud of truth that you're forced to confront. “Babe, she had cancer and didn't want us to know… She wanted to live a happy life until the end,”

Yuna sobs again, and though her intent is to offer solace, the revelation feels like a cascade of heavy stones on your already burdened heart. The bitter sweetness of her desire for a joyful life juxtaposed with the pain of her silent struggle adds another layer to the grief, leaving you to grapple with the complexities of Nari's hidden battles.

“Yuna…,” you cry, the anguish in your voice echoing the profound pain that seems to squeeze the very life out of your heart.

“Why does everyone leave?”

The question hangs in the air, more rhetorical than expectant, as if you're not seeking an answer from Yuna but grappling with the cruel patterns of departure that life has woven into the fabric of your existence.

Each departure, like a thread pulled from the tapestry of your world, leaves an unraveled piece that never quite knits itself back together.

“I–, I don’t know,” she stammers through her tears, the weight of the unknown echoing in her voice, mirroring the uncertainty that now shrouds both of your lives.

“Promise we’ll be there for each other,” you declare, the weight of the words hanging in the air. It's a poignant plea, an acknowledgment of life's unpredictable twists. You understand that you can't ask for an eternity, but in this moment, you're determined to hold onto each other as tightly as time allows.

“Count on it,” she vows, her response flowing effortlessly, a testament to the unspoken bond between you two.

Despite the tightening in your throat, a glimmer of happiness sparks within you at the assurance she just gave.

Why must life be so fucking cruel, robbing you of everyone you hold dear?

An overwhelming urge to reconnect with your sister washes over you, a deep yearning fueled by the ache of prolonged silence between you.

“I want to call my sister,” you manage to say through your sobs, a desperate plea lacing your words. “Will you be alright, Yuna?” you ask, your concern breaking through the waves of grief that surround you both.

“Yeah. I mean, I'm fucking sad, but go ahead and call her. Can I come to your place tomorrow?” Yuna's voice carries a subtle plea, a shared understanding that neither of you wants to be alone in the midst of sorrow.

“Yeah, I'd love that,” you respond, your voice carrying the weight of grief and the faint glimmer of gratitude for the companionship that awaits tomorrow. As you attempt to dry your tears with a throw blanket on the couch, the room feels emptier than ever, and the ache in your heart persists.

“See you tomorrow,” she says before the call ends.

The hollowness in the room deepens, and you draw in a shaky breath, your gaze fixed on your phone. The background image captures a moment frozen in time, featuring you, Nari, and Yuna.

God, the ache of missing her intensifies, and you can't shake the heaviness in your chest.

You tighten your grip on the phone, each tear that escapes your eyes a silent testament to the pain in your heart. Determination wells up as you locate your sister's number, fingers tracing the familiar digits, ready to bridge the gap that time and distance have carved between you.

The rhythmic ringing echoes through the emptiness of your apartment, each tone a reminder of the solitude that now envelops you.

Anxiety gnaws at the edges of your thoughts as you anticipate the warmth of your sister's voice, a comfort you desperately need. Yet, the unanswered calls amplify the distance that separates you. With a heavy heart, you decide against leaving a message, the weight of unspoken words settling as you slump back onto the couch.

The sudden vibration of your phone startles you, and as you glance at the screen, the sight of your sister's name sparks a mixture of relief and anticipation. With a soft sniffle, you muster the strength to answer, “Hey, sis,” your voice laced with a blend of vulnerability and longing, reaching out across the digital expanse to bridge the emotional gap that separates you.

A chill courses through your body, rendering you motionless, as a deep, resonant voice resonates through the phone, catching you off guard.

“Hey,” his voice echoes through the phone, sending a shiver down your spine.

Your trembling hand clutches the device, and you find yourself holding your breath, caught in the sudden intensity of the moment.

“I'm Detective Kim,” he introduces himself, his voice echoing through the line. It carries a calm demeanor, yet beneath its surface, you detect a subtle undertone of sadness, adding a mysterious depth to his words.

This can't be good, you murmur to yourself, the words barely escaping your lips as a chill courses through your veins, turning your blood to ice once again.

“Are you Jiho's sister?” The detective's voice remains steady and calm, but beneath the surface, you sense an undercurrent of gravity and anticipation.

“Yes,” you reply, your voice catching in a sob as you struggle to contain your tears. The ominous feeling intensifies, and you can't shake the sinking realization that a detective is the one answering your sister's phone.

The air becomes heavy with uncertainty and fear.

“I'm deeply sorry to be the bearer of this news,” he begins with a sympathetic tone.

You inhale sharply, bracing yourself for the impact of the words that follow.

“Your sister has passed away.”

The world seems to shatter around you as the weight of his message settles in, leaving you breathless and heartbroken.

In that devastating moment, it feels as if the very foundation of your existence crumbles.

Your body and soul plummet through a void, each passing second an agonizing countdown to the inevitable impact that will shatter you into a million irreparable pieces.

The weight of grief bears down on you, and you're suspended in a free fall of despair.

You become acutely aware of your breath, or the lack thereof, as if the air itself has turned into a suffocating force, triggering a torrent of violent inhalations, each one a desperate attempt to grasp onto a reality that has just slipped through your fingers.

A heavy silence envelops the room as the detective imparts the devastating truth, each word landing with the weight of a sledgehammer on your fragile emotions. “She was killed,” he utters, the somber notes in his tone resonating like a funeral dirge, casting a pall over the already dim reality of your world.

A suffocating wave of panic crashes over you, rendering your extremities numb and your breath caught in the grip of invisible hands.

The room seems to close in as the detective's voice on the phone becomes a distant echo, his words lost in the disorienting whirlwind of your own mental tempest. It's a struggle to comprehend the standard condolences and procedures he details, as if reality itself is slipping through your trembling fingers.

Fucking hell. Is this hell?

In the wake of your parents' departure, you believed you had tasted the bitterest sorrow, yet today eclipses that agony without a shadow of a doubt.

You cast your phone aside on the couch, retreating to your bedroom, collapsing onto the bed. The anguish within erupts into violent sobs, an unrelenting torrent of tears flooding from your eyes, your entire frame convulsing with the weight of your grief.

You bury your face into the softness of the pillow, muffling the guttural scream that tears from your lungs.

The sound, a primal release of anguish, reverberates within the confines of your room. Screw the neighbors; right now, the universe needs to bear witness to the rawness of your pain.

What the fuck is up with this world? Everyone around you dies! Everyone leaves!

You can’t take it anymore.

As you surrender to the torrents of grief, you hope that tears might offer solace, a fleeting relief that could pave the way for much-needed sleep. Yet, despite your desperate attempts, the embrace of slumber eludes you, leaving you trapped in the clutches of your sorrow-soaked thoughts.

In an impulsive surge, you opt for a nocturnal stroll. Snatching your jacket, you step into the silent night, the residue of dried tears blending seamlessly with the ones that refuse to cease.

The moon above, a silent witness to the turmoil within, as your footsteps echo the rhythm of a heart weighed down by grief.

As you traverse the familiar streets of town, a magnetic pull guiding you to a cherished park, your sanctuary. Swiftly, you arrive and gingerly settle your weary frame onto a weathered bench, the cool night air offering a gentle caress to your battered soul.

As your gaze ascends to the enchanting tapestry of the night, a celestial dance of stars unfolds above. Tonight, the cosmic expanse seems to cradle the spirits of your sister and Nari, their luminous presence illuminating the vast darkness, a celestial reunion among the constellations.

As your tears persist, you fix your eyes upon the star-lit canvas above. Each gleaming star appears like a radiant jewel, casting an ethereal glow across the night. The beauty is undeniable, yet a poignant sadness lingers in your heart.

Compelled by an unspoken yearning, you embark on the solemn task of counting the stars, each one a celestial tribute to the cherished souls who now adorn the heavens.

The question echoes in your mind: Why?

Why do they blaze with such brilliance, akin to a dying star igniting in a final, magnificent burst before consuming everything in its cosmic embrace?

Your heart pounds violently against your ribcage, each beat echoing through your chest, and the air feels elusive, slipping away as if you're caught in a suffocating grip.

Life reveals its cruel nature, leaving you to grapple with the relentless question: Why does everyone leave? Why does the world around you crumble, stealing away those you hold dear?

An emptiness envelopes you, a void so profound it swallows every ounce of light. Darkness creeps in, and an irresistible urge emerges, coaxing you to surrender to its consuming embrace.

Perhaps it's time to release your grip on reality and join the celestial dance of those who have departed before you?

As the tears flow, perhaps this haunting void within will dissipate, bringing an end to the relentless ache that permeates every fiber of your being.

As the weight of loneliness bears down on you, an insidious desire to surrender, to slip into an eternal slumber, creeps through your shattered heart. The yearning for an endless sleep, where the fractured pieces of your soul find solace, consumes you. It's as if the very essence of your being is crumbling into irreparable fragments.

The fragments of your soul lie scattered, and the daunting question echoes in the hollow chambers of your despair—can you summon the strength to mend them once more, to piece together the shattered remnants of your being?

In the depths of your despair, a resolute realization surfaces — a quiet but unwavering knowing that, despite the relentless cruelty, you're not ready to surrender to the void. Life, as brutal as it may be, still holds threads of resilience within its intricate tapestry, and you find an ember of strength glowing amidst the shadows.

You divert your gaze downward, focusing on your hands nestled in your lap, choosing the tangible reality of your own existence over the distant allure of the star-studded night.

You harbor too many aspirations to surrender to despair. Your desires paint a vivid canvas of dreams: to find solace in the embrace of a kind-hearted partner, secure a fulfilling career, and relish the simple joys that life offers. Nari's silent battle with illness inspires you to embrace life with the same gusto, celebrating its moments without the need for validation.

In the midst of your fragmented existence, amidst the shattering pain, you crave it all. Yearning for the entirety of life's tapestry, even when it feels like it's unraveling.

Despite life's cruelty, there's an undeniable allure in its intricate beauty, compelling you to seek solace and embrace the stunning contradictions that define your life.

Amidst the tear-stained path, your resolve solidifies.

The decision made, you tread back to your apartment, the silent witness to your inner turmoil. Each step echoes with the weight of your emotions, a symphony of sorrow playing in the background.

The sanctuary of your home beckons, promising the respite that only sleep, albeit restless, can bring. Sleep, like a long-lost friend, embraces you swiftly this time. Grateful for the solace it brings, you sink into its comforting arms, the reprieve from the turmoil of the day unfolding like a gentle lullaby.

The chime of the doorbell resonates through your apartment, and you're roused from the depths of sleep. Yuna, true to her word, stands on the other side, a beacon of support in your time of need.

Embraced in a tight hug, tears stream down both your faces, the shared weight of grief transforming the silent embrace into a powerful testament of mutual understanding and shared sorrow.

Seated on the couch, you engage in a heartfelt conversation about the unpredictable journey of life—its highs and lows.

As a comforting silence settles between you, you reach for the remote and, with a flicker of distraction, decide on a mindless show. Wrapped in the embrace of shared grief, you find solace in the soft glow of the television, its images casting a gentle veil over your weary souls.

That night, Yuna stays over, a comforting presence that feels like a blessing in the midst of your overwhelming grief.

In the vulnerable hours of the night, you pour your heart out to Yuna.

Tears flow freely as you share the ache of losing your sister, the void left by Kitten's absence, and the fear that Yoongi might be gone forever. In the solace of shared sorrow, you find a glimmer of hope amidst the shadows.

In the tender embrace of Yuna, you find solace. Her comforting presence is a lifeline in the storm of grief, holding you close as tears cascade. Though she's often your pillar of strength, tonight you yearn to reciprocate, to be the support she's always been for you. It's a quiet understanding, an unspoken pact between friends navigating the unpredictable currents of life.

In the quiet depths of the night, as you share your pain with Yuna, a flicker of determination ignites within you. You yearn not just for solace but to become the architect of your own joy. The realization dawns that your happiness lies in the unwritten chapters of your own journey, waiting to be explored and embraced. It's a moment of self-discovery, a commitment to forge your path to happiness, independent and resilient.

With the dawn of a new day, you decide to embark on a journey of self-discovery.

Despite the weight of sorrow lingering in your chest, you resolve to savor life in all its transient splendor—embracing its beauty, acknowledging its ugliness, and reveling in every nuanced shade in between.

Each moment becomes a canvas, and you are determined to paint it with the vibrant strokes of resilience and newfound appreciation.

With unwavering determination, you approached your boss at the café, advocating for a shift in your work hours. The goal? To rekindle the pursuit of knowledge, to step back into the world of academia and reignite the spark of astrophysics that had once fueled your passion.

As the prospect of returning to school looms on the horizon, you recognize that the journey ahead is both a challenge and an opportunity—a chance to sculpt a future that you can genuinely be proud of, with each completed course marking a triumph over self-doubt and a step closer to the constellations of your dreams.

In the wake of that poignant night where two cherished souls departed, a few months have quietly slipped away.

In a tender gesture of support, Yuna encourages you to embrace the prospect of love once more. Unlike before, hesitation has no place in your heart this time.

With newfound courage, you step into the realm of dating, a journey tinged with both vulnerability and hope, as you navigate through the tapestry of emotions woven by the threads of the past and the promises of the future.

Life, a relentless journey, doesn't yield to simplicity, yet within its intricate folds, a subtle transformation occurs. It doesn't unravel swiftly, but with each passing day, it stitches together a mosaic of improvement, a gradual emergence from the shadows into the dappled light of a better tomorrow.

With each sunrise, a symphony of healing orchestrates within you, crescendoing into a melody that resonates louder, and you find solace in the fact that every dawn gifts you a version of yourself stronger and more resilient than the preceding day.

As winter unfurls its icy embrace, you find solace in the familiar touch of your cherished wool coat, the cozy sanctuary of fluffy sweaters enveloping you like a hug from a dear friend, and the softness of warm socks cradling your every step.

With a steaming cup of tea in hand, you dive into your studies, the brisk air outside contrasting with the warmth that courses through your veins.

Embarking on the journey to reclaim an unfinished chapter of your life, returning to the hallowed halls of academia, you revel in the triumphant echoes of resilience as you strive to complete the narrative you once set in motion.

As you tread homeward, the city draped in the melancholy hues of twilight, a fleeting silhouette dashes through the alleys, a phantom of darkness.

For the briefest moment, memories of Kitten's playful escapades dance in your mind, a bittersweet symphony of nostalgia.

A sigh, heavy with the weight of longing, escapes your lips, yet you trudge forward, navigating the shadows toward the warmth of your home.

In the intimate glow of your kitchen, you conjure a culinary masterpiece, a symphony of flavors orchestrated only for yourself. The sizzle of ingredients harmonizes with the rhythmic beat of your heart, a ritual of self-love that has become your refuge.

Many a time, you've crafted these delectable creations, some shared in the company of fleeting dates whose presence, like autumn leaves, brushed briefly against the canvas of your life, but leaving no lasting imprint on your heart.

Midway through the mundane task of stowing away dishes, a subtle and mysterious hum reverberates through your abode, originating from the vicinity of your door.

The air is suddenly filled with a familiar, distant melody—a soft and rhythmic meowing that sends a jolt of excitement through you.

Abandoning your chores, you rush to the door, fingers fumbling with the lock, and there, in all his glory, stands Kitten!

In a flurry of warmth and relief, you scoop up the cold, shivering Kitten into your embrace, quickly closing the door behind him. His meows echo gratitude, and a tender lick against your cheek seals the unspoken bond that time and distance failed to break.

In a million moments, you never fathomed seeing him again. Now, as he rests in your arms, elation courses through you like a celestial symphony, leaving you over the moon with sheer happiness.

His return is a testament to a bond beyond time, a friendship that defies the measure of days. It's not about the duration of his absence; it's about the joyous truth that he returned to you, stitching the fragments of your heart back together.

You rush to your cabinet, your heart pounding with both relief and excitement. Grabbing a can of cat food, you swiftly prepare a feast for Kitten, watching as he eagerly devours the meal, his hunger echoing the void his absence left in your life.

As you stroke Kitten's fur, you can't help but ponder on the mysteries that shroud his disappearance. His body, while not emaciated, carries the silent tales of his adventures.

You yearn to unravel the chapters of his feline escapades, wishing you could converse with him, share the unspoken hardships, and assure him that he's found a forever home in the warmth of your embrace.

In a breathless whisper, you confess, “I've missed you so much,” the weight of your longing carried in the tenderness of your voice.

A solitary tear, a testament to the emotions flooding your heart, escapes and dances down your cheek, mirroring the joy of a reunion long yearned for.

As the echoes of your affectionate words linger in the air, Kitten responds with a gentle purr, a harmonious melody that intertwines seamlessly with the sound of him relishing the meal.

Amidst the soft cadence of Kitten's purring, you find solace in the familiar presence of your feline companion. With a sigh, you decide to share the intricacies of the tumultuous journey you've undertaken since his absence. “So much has unfolded, Kitten,” you whisper, your voice a gentle reassurance, “a lot of shit, but also a lot of good.”

As Kitten finishes his meal, he responds with a symphony of content purrs, gracefully padding over to where you crouch. With a playful nudge against your legs, he seems to convey a silent acknowledgment, a shared moment of warmth and connection between old friends.

In the span of a few days, the void that Kitten's absence left has been filled with the comforting rhythm of his presence. You've poured out your heart to him, recounting the events and emotions that unfolded during his time away, as if catching him up on the chapters of your life.

Kitten, with his attentive eyes and soothing purrs, seems to understand more than most, providing a silent anchor in the storm of your experiences.

As you sink into the soft embrace of your couch, a contented smile plays on your lips. With Kitten nestled beside you, you share a profound realization that has taken root in your heart: ‘I live, so I love.’ The words hang in the air, a testament to the resilience you've found in the face of life's unpredictable twists. The TV hums with background noise, but in that moment, the simple joy of companionship fills the room.

In the quiet solitude of your apartment, you confide in Kitten, the loyal companion who has witnessed both your joys and sorrows. “I don't think he's coming back,” you murmur, a tinge of sadness lingering in your voice. As if attuned to your emotions, Kitten responds with a gentle meow, a feline reassurance that transcends words.

In the rhythmic cadence of your words, a sense of vulnerability emerges. “I know, I know. I don't need a man in my life. I get that,” you confess, your voice carrying the weight of self-awareness.

The clinking of utensils against pots and pans provides a subtle percussion to your thoughts as you continue, “But Yoongi was special, you know? Like he just got me... and I just wish for him to be happy doing whatever he's doing.” The aroma of dinner fills the air, mingling with the unspoken sentiments swirling in the room.

As you delicately feed Kitten some steamed broccoli, the notion of reuniting with Yoongi lingers in the air. “If he comes back, you should meet him – I'll introduce you!” The words spill from your lips, carrying a hopeful melody.

As you reminisce about Yoongi, a fond smile plays on your lips. “He's such a wonderful person. And handsome? Oh, his hands,” you begin, tracing the air with your fingers as if you can feel the texture of his presence. Memories flood back, each detail etched in your mind like a cherished photograph. “Long fingers, veiny hands,” you murmur, the words infused with a hint of admiration that even surprises you. The love for this man reverberates in your voice, a quiet confession to the depths of your feelings.

Kitten's melodic meow serenades the room as he gracefully weaves between your feet, his tail coiling affectionately around your calves like a comforting embrace.

“If you meet him, please don’t claw his back out like you did with that other guy. Yoongi is nice.”

With a heavy heart, you confide in Kitten, the weight of your worry evident in the rhythmic tapping of the spatula against the sizzling vegetables. “It's been nearly half a year, and I can't shake the feeling that something might have happened to him,” you murmur, the crackling sounds of the kitchen offering a somber backdrop to your uncertainty.

As the warmth of the meal envelops you and Kitten, you sit together, a silent companionship settling over the room. The simplicity of this moment strikes you, and a quiet realization unfolds – you love your life just as it is.

In the shared silence, you feel a sense of wholeness, a testimony to the goodness found in life's simplicity. Though your heart may still ache at times, you've come to accept that, too, as a part of the beautiful complexity that makes life what it is.

You're keenly aware that time is the remedy for healing, a gentle but persistent force that gradually eases the ache until one day, the pain will be a distant echo of what it once was.

Your weary limbs protest against the demands of a full-time class schedule and cafe shifts, revealing the hidden challenges of your daily grind. Fatigue clings to you like a shadow, and an involuntary yawn escapes.

With a wearied sigh, you address Kitten, your loyal companion in fatigue. “Ah, Kitten, today's been a battle. I'm going to bed early today,” you murmur, dragging your exhausted body to the bathroom in a nightly ritual.

Upon returning to your sanctuary, you find Kitten, already nestled in his customary spot, a comforting presence in the silent embrace of the night.

Sinking beneath the cozy duvet, you surrender to its tender embrace, the fabric cocooning you in a haven of softness. With a gentle pat, you acknowledge Kitten, “Thank you for being here,” you murmur before succumbing to the enchantment of dreamland.

As consciousness tiptoes back into your awareness, the remnants of dreams linger like elusive whispers in your mind. Gently awakening, you open your eyes to find the absence of Kitten.

Your eyes widen in astonishment, and your body tenses as you absorb the scene unfolding before you—a man, peacefully lost in the realm of dreams.

Your gaze follows the cascade of long, slightly curly, obsidian hair that drapes over his shoulders, tracing the contours of his creamy white skin. The play of morning light reveals a well-defined back, drawing your eyes down the elegant curve of his spine until they come to rest on a small, soft, plum-like ass. The realization hits you like a bolt— he's completely naked!

Why is your heart orchestrating a rapid symphony, each beat echoing in your ears like a thunderous drumroll? And what in the world is a naked stranger doing sprawled across your sheets as though he belongs there?

He slumbers in serene oblivion, emitting soft, melodic sighs that weave through the air, his chest gracefully ascending and descending in rhythmic dance with each tranquil breath.

Wait.

He seems familiar.

A gasp escapes your lips as you take a closer look, and the realization hits you like a bolt of lightning – it's Yoongi!

Shock and disbelief intertwine in your chest as you stare at his peaceful slumber.

Confusion and a hint of panic surge through you as your mind races with questions.

Why is Yoongi in your bed, and why on earth is he naked?

How did Yoongi end up here, and where is Kitten?

A myriad of questions spins through your mind, a turbulent storm of curiosity. As you ponder the mysteries, you belatedly notice Yoongi stirring, gracefully shifting to lie on his back.

Your face burns with embarrassment as the realization dawns that he's still completely naked. Heat rises to your cheeks when his half-erect dick brushes against his stomach, prompting you to instinctively shield your eyes, flustered by the unexpected sight.

You wrestle with the dilemma of whether to disturb his serene slumber or let him continue resting peacefully. The soft innocence in his sleeping form makes the decision more challenging, and you lean towards allowing him to bask in the tranquility of his dreams undisturbed.

Gently, you drape the comforting warmth of your duvet over him, a shield against the chill of the room. With nimble movements, you extract yourself from the bed, careful not to disturb the delicate balance of his slumber.

Confusion seizes your thoughts as you grapple with the surreal scenario—Yoongi peacefully nestled in your bed. You wrack your brain, questioning every sober memory, desperately trying to unearth the missing pieces that would explain his presence.

You step into the kitchen, a fleeting sense of unease prickling at your skin as you scan the room for Kitten, but he remains elusive, leaving a trace of uncertainty in the air.

A twinge of melancholy washes over you as Kitten remains elusive, but you console yourself with the hope that he might return, his absence merely a temporary void in your otherwise comforting routine.

You embark on the simple yet intimate act of preparing two steaming cups of coffee—one for yourself and one for the unexpected visitor who occupies your bed.

You seize a handful of aromatic coffee beans from a vintage jar, letting the rich fragrance envelop you as you crush them under the steady hum of your machine. With precision, you measure out the perfect amount, combining it with hot water, allowing the concoction to brew into a comforting elixir.

While the coffee brews, your mind races with bewildering thoughts about Yoongi's unexpected presence in your bed. Puzzlement clouds your senses as you contemplate every conceivable scenario.

Did he let himself in? Was there some mysterious way he could have gained access?

With a touch of anxiety, you even venture to your front door, checking for any signs of unauthorized entry, only to find it securely locked, shrouded in an eerie silence.

You're grappling with the perplexing mystery of Yoongi's appearance in your bed, as if he materialized out of thin air, defying all logic and reason, leaving you spellbound by the inexplicable magic that seems to have woven its way into your ordinary reality.

In the quiet chaos of your thoughts, Yoongi's presence offers more questions than answers, an enigmatic puzzle that seems to defy the ordinary. The absence of Kitten only adds another layer of mystery to the unfolding scene.

As the coffee machine dings, disrupting the contemplative silence, you're left grappling with the surreal conundrum before you, seeking clarity in the comforting aroma of freshly brewed coffee.

With the warmth of freshly brewed coffee in your hands, you reenter the bedroom to discover Yoongi, now alert, draped in your duvet, a captivating silhouette in the soft morning light.

Your greeting falters as you nervously stammer, “H–, Hi,” setting the two mugs of coffee on your nightstand. Yoongi's gaze, sharp and feline-like, traces your every move, creating a palpable tension in the air.

An unfamiliar nervousness grips you in his presence, an unusual sensation considering your usual ease around him. Perhaps it's the fact that he's naked, his gaze akin to a predator eyeing down its prey, intensifying the air with an unspoken tension.

“Hey,” finally breaking the silence, he greets you with a low grumble, scratching his head and letting out a lazy yawn.

His body exudes a captivating blend of softness and defined muscles, a captivating sight that—

His voice, laced with a teasing smirk, breaks the tension. “Can't stop staring at my dick, huh?”

Your throat tightens as you realize you've been caught in the act, silently observing him. Panic sets in – does he think you're a freak now? Fantastic.

You let out a nervous chuckle, deliberately shifting your gaze away from the obvious bulge in the duvet around his lap. “What are you doing here, Yoongi? And why are you naked?” you inquire, genuinely puzzled.

He chuckles, a low sound that sends a shiver down your spine, and you can't help but feel a tinge of unease. “You haven't figured it out yet?” he teases, his words hanging in the air, leaving you in suspense.

You must resemble a walking question mark, because his chuckles only intensify. It's as if he finds your confusion amusing, and you're left standing there, desperate for answers in the midst of his enigmatic laughter.

In a soft tone laced with a smirk, he utters, “Kitten.”

Your gaze fixates on him, bewildered. Kitten? Is he referring to your cat?

Your jaw drops as he gracefully emerges from the bed, the duvet cascading off his frame. In his unabashed nudity, he strides toward you.

He inches closer, the proximity almost causing your lips to collide. A surge of warmth courses through you when he delicately tucks a stray strand of your hair behind your ear.

“I’m a shapeshifter,” his revelation hangs in the air, the weight of it palpable, and as he locks eyes with you, searching for any flicker of discomfort, the truth settles. Before you can process it fully, he leans in, capturing your lips with an irresistible surge of passion.

His lips, soft and inviting, embark on a slow yet passionate dance, as if reuniting with a long-lost lover. Responding eagerly, you part your lips, allowing the kiss to deepen, and in that electrifying moment, your entire body succumbs to a sensation akin to melting butter.

You yield to his touch, molding your body to his as you sense the undeniable hardness of his arousal intimately pressing against your core.

Fuck.

In the midst of the heated moment, you draw back slightly to meet his gaze, the question hanging in the air, “So... you're Kitten?”

He offers no verbal response, just a low, affirmative hum, before plunging back into another intoxicating kiss.

You surrender to the sensation, feeling the firm grip of his hands on your waist as they journey upward beneath the fabric of your well-worn shirt.

His touch ignites a trail of sensations, tracing a path across your body, sending electric shivers as he lifts your shirt, gently grazing against the contours of your breasts.

Under the intensity of his gaze, your body responds, a flush of heat spreading through you, your nipples hardening in response. He emits a low, satisfied hum, as if relishing the effect he has on you.

Effortlessly, he works to level the playing field, swiftly undressing you as if in a race against time. With a purposeful tug, he eases your shorts down, a silent declaration of his desire.

Bare before him, clad only in a simple black panty adorned with delicate pink hearts, you can't shake the vulnerability coursing through you. A sudden urge to conceal yourself washes over, a reaction to the raw exposure in this intimate moment.

“Don't shy away, you're stunning,” Yoongi murmurs, his firm grip on your hips drawing you closer to his naked body. The undeniable heat of his arousal presses against your core, a tangible reminder of the desire smoldering between you.

Gratitude escapes your lips in a hushed tone, your cheeks tinged with a warm blush.

“Now, let’s get these off you, yeah?” with a mischievous glint in his eyes, he hooks his fingers inside the fabric of your panties, teasingly tugging them down. He pauses, seeking your consent, before sensually sliding them all the way down your legs.

As he slides your panties down, a sudden awareness of your arousal hits you, intensified by the cool rush of air against your heated core.

As they fall to the floor, Yoongi swiftly snatches up your panties, bringing them to his face to inhale the intoxicating essence of your arousal, his eyes darkening with desire.

Why does that look so utterly sinful, setting off a delicious rush of arousal coursing through your veins, leaving you breathless in its wake?

As the intoxicating scent of you envelops him, he murmurs, “Damn, you smell good,” his eyes dilating with an unmistakable hunger.

“I wonder if you taste as good as you smell.”

In the raw vulnerability of your shared nakedness, he guides your body back to the bed, gently laying you down, his presence a magnetic force, hovering above you.

He immerses himself in the expanse of your neck, a symphony of sensations unfolding – a delicate ballet of tender kisses, followed by the electrifying nip of his teeth grazing the juncture between your neck and shoulder.

You moan in unabashed pleasure, your hands instinctively seeking refuge on his chiseled pectorals, anchoring yourself amidst the rising waves of bliss.

Yoongi's gaze shifts to the mirror positioned strategically in front of your bed. “I've been meaning to ask,” he smirks, locking eyes with you, “why do you have a mirror in front of your bed?”

You squirm beneath him, breath catching.”'It's part of my wardrobe panels,” you admit, your voice a fragile melody.

He chuckles, a low and enticing sound, his smirk dancing on his lips. “I don't think that's why the whole panel is mirrors,” he says, sitting up slightly. His finger traces a slow, teasing path from your collarbones to your breasts, sending shivers of anticipation racing through your body.

He leans in, his breath sending a shiver down your spine, and in a deep, low voice, he murmurs into your ear, “You're a dirty one, aren't you?”

His degrading words make your breath hitch instantly, and you involuntarily clench your thighs together. As you shake your head in disagreement, he just smirks, unconvinced.

His chuckle resonates in the room as he asks, “Do you enjoy watching yourself in the mirrors?” Sitting up, he moves to the foot of the bed, his eyes gleaming with a mischievous spark.

He gracefully steps out of the bed, casting a predatory gaze as he hovers over you, an aura of irresistible allure surrounding him.

With unwavering determination, he declares, “You're going to watch yourself in the mirror as I fuck your pussy with my tongue.” In a single, fluid motion, he seizes both of your thighs, pulling you to the foot of the bed, sending a thrilling jolt through your senses.

Despite the heat coursing through your entire being, a light chuckle escapes your lips. However, the mirth dissipates as you lock eyes with the intensity in Yoongi's dark gaze.

“Sit up,” his command echoes through the room, and as he gracefully lowers himself between your legs, a thrilling anticipation courses through the air.

From your elevated position, you admire the tousled chaos of his hair, a disheveled masterpiece that only enhances his captivating allure. His eyes gleam with a mischievous spark, a silent promise of the intensity that is about to unfold.

You seize his cheeks with urgency, your voice dripping with desire, a fervent plea escaping your lips, “Fuck. Yoongi, please eat me out.”

He moistens his lips with a teasing chuckle, descending eagerly towards your already soaked center.

He expertly widens the gap between your legs, creating a perfect haven for himself before delving into your pussy with fervent devotion.

With a tantalizing finesse, he starts with a subtle stroke of his tongue along your folds, gradually ascending to the apex of your clit, eliciting a fervent moan that echoes in the room.

As waves of pleasure cascade through you, your fingers instinctively entwine in his tousled locks, gently pulling as he skillfully devotes his attention to the exquisite dance of his tongue and lips on your pulsating core.

Gasping for breath, your anticipation mounts, every nerve tingling with pleasure, as Yoongi's rhythmic strokes across your intimate folds propel you toward a climax, your toes curling in ecstasy.

Pausing momentarily, he murmurs in appreciation, “You taste even better than you smell, Kitten,” his words sending a shiver down your spine.

You're on the verge of asking him about the nickname ‘Kitten,’ but his tongue explores your folds, leaving you breathless and unable to form words.

Your question dissolves in the heat of the moment, the building climax taking center stage as you lose yourself in the pursuit of pleasure.

Lost in the waves of ecstasy, you can't resist the urge to surrender, closing your eyes as Yoongi works his magic with undeniable expertise.

“No, no, no. Look at yourself in the mirror, Kitten.”

“Why do—” before you can finish your question, it fades away on your tongue as Yoongi plunges back into pleasuring your core with a renewed intensity, leaving your thoughts swallowed by the whirlwind of sensations.

As you glance at the mirror, you catch a glimpse of your own blissful expression, framed by Yoongi's tousled black hair nestled between your thighs. The sight is nothing short of breathtaking, a sight of pleasure that leaves you utterly captivated.

The provocative scene unfolding in the mirror intensifies your arousal, your breath hitching in tandem with the escalating desire pulsating through your veins.

“Yoongi, I’m—” your plea catches in your throat as Yoongi skillfully responds, his hand finding your pulsating clit, heightening the pleasure while he continues to ravish you with his insatiable tongue.

His fingers dance in rhythmic circles over your throbbing clit, coaxing the tension from your core. As the knot unravels, a wave of blissful release washes over you, leaving you breathless and trembling in its wake.

Ecstasy courses through your veins, your toes curling, muscles tightening, and in that moment, an unexpected surge of pleasure hits you like a sneeze that never comes. You release a symphony of moans, surrendering to the intense climax that Yoongi skillfully orchestrates with his talented tongue.

He continues to suck, savoring every drop of your essence, an insatiable thirst in his eyes matching the fervor of the intimate dance between your bodies.

As the intensity peaks, you gently tap his shoulder, signaling him to withdraw. He complies with a sensual slurp, leaving you breathless and tingling with the echoes of pleasure.

A mischievous grin stretches across his face as he licks his lips, “You're incredible, Kitten.”

You arch an eyebrow, curiosity coloring your tone, “Why do you keep calling me ‘Kitten’? You’re Kitten.”

He erupts in laughter, a symphony that resonates through the room, his chest rising and falling with the melody of mirth, and in that moment, he's a captivating masterpiece.

“Do I really look like a Kitten to you?” he inquires, a playful glint in his eyes as he gently nudges you back onto the bed.

Your words stumble as you search for a response, “Not really,” you admit, offering him a small yet tender smile.

“But you look cute and sweet, like a good Kitten,” he murmurs, his hands exploring the curves of your breasts.

A low moan escapes your lips as he teases your nipples with a playful twist, igniting a fresh surge of desire that pools in the growing heat between your thighs.

As you ache for the feel of his throbbing length, you attempt to grab hold of him, but like a fleeting mirage, he skillfully eludes your touch, leaving you yearning for the intimate connection that inches away with each evasive movement.

“Nah. I just want to fuck you silly,” he rasps, eyes tracing every bead of sweat on your flushed skin, reveling in the primal rhythm of your hurried breaths.

“If you want to, that is?” he teases, his voice a sultry whisper, as he takes control, guiding himself between your legs with a confident hand that promises a morning full of pleasure.

As you feel the weight of his gaze, you gulp, wondering how, in that heated moment, he could question what you crave. It's undeniable – you want him, and the intensity of your desire hangs in the air between you, palpable and unspoken.

Your breath catches as you respond, the words tumbling from your lips in a heated rush, “Fuck, yes, Yoongi. I want you inside me, now,” the urgency in your voice betraying the intensity of your desire.

A low, rumbling chuckle escapes him, the sound sending a shiver down your spine as he replies, “Please” with a teasing glint in his eyes.

“‘Please’ what?”

“Say ‘please’.”

You huff, incredulous at his audacity. The desire in his eyes is undeniable, and he seems to enjoy the game. Part of you rebels, tempted to be a brat just to irk him, but the need for his touch overrides any resistance. You crave his intimacy, aching for his dick despite the defiance lingering in the air.

“Fuck this,” you grumble, frustration evident in your voice. In that fleeting moment, you catch a glimpse of Yoongi pulling back, as if reconsidering his stance.

“Please! Don’t leave,” you plead desperately, your sincerity laid bare. The smirk on his face deepens, as if savoring the intensity of your plea.

“Please fuck me, Yoongi.”

His satisfaction evident, he rewards you with a swift kiss before aligning himself with your eager entrance, anticipation humming in the air.

Your arousal has reached a point where there's no discomfort, just a perfect fit as he slides into you, your wetness welcoming and enveloping him seamlessly.

He hisses as he eases into your warm, tight walls, and you can feel him doing his best to restrain himself.

You release a breathy huff as he fully penetrates, his balls gently meeting the warmth of your folds.

He lets out a guttural groan as he steadies himself, withdrawing only to plunge back in with an intensity that sends shivers through your body.

In this intimate position, with him above you, every nuance of his pleasure is on full display—the way his nose scrunches in delight, his soft lips occasionally nibbling the bottom one in sheer ecstasy.

Between each thrust, he can't help but express his amazement, his voice low and husky, “Damn. You're so tight.”

You know. It’s been awhile.

As he moves within you with an increased rhythm, his hands find your breasts, skillfully massaging them in sync with his fervent thrusts, creating a symphony of pleasure that courses through your entire body.

Ecstasy courses through you, and in the midst of your fervent pleasure, you can't help but release a breathless exclamation, “Fuck, Yoongi!”

Every skillful thrust seems to find its mark, synchronized with the enticing dance of his fingers on your hardened nipples. Pleasure envelops you, clouding your thoughts in a haze of ecstasy.

Your pleasure intensifies as Yoongi skillfully pinches your nipples, eliciting a symphony of moans that harmonize with the rhythmic dance of his passionate thrusts.

Sensations ripple through you, and the desire to reciprocate Yoongi's pleasure builds within you. You yearn to give him the same ecstasy he's generously bestowed upon you.

Amidst the rhythmic cadence of Yoongi's thrusts, a bold request escapes your lips. Your gaze, laced with desire, meets his, and with a subtle plea in your eyes, you softly murmur, “Yoongi—, I want to ride you. Please.”

With a devilish grin, Yoongi withdraws from your embrace, reclining on the bed, his eyes ablaze with anticipation.

His voice, laced with desire, sends shivers down your spine as he commands, “Then you're gonna watch in the mirrors as you fuck yourself on my dick,” reclining with his head angled towards the mirrors.

Mounting him, you position yourself strategically, both of you reflected in the mirror—a tantalizing image of entangled limbs, the intensity of the moment etched in your heaving, sweat-glistened bodies.

Grasping his throbbing dick, he hisses in anticipation as you deftly align your eager entrance with his cock.

With a fluid motion, you descend onto his rigid cock, your velvet walls enveloping him in a tight, intoxicating embrace.

From below, Yoongi savors the view, his gaze lingering on the contours of your face, as if committing every detail to memory.

You guide the rhythm, your hands finding stability on his sculpted chest, setting the pace as you ride him with a mix of determination and desire.

Your movements cascade, a slow dance that gradually builds momentum, each rise and fall carrying a symphony of pleasure and anticipation.

As you gaze upon your reflection, the flush of arousal paints your cheeks, your disheveled hair framing your face like an unruly halo, and your breasts dance in perfect harmony with the rhythm of your passionate movements.

The person in the mirror seems like a stranger, a sensual revelation you never knew existed within you. The mirrors, always present but never before utilized for sex, now reflect a version of yourself that’s both thrilling and new.

Heat courses through your veins, an intoxicating blend of arousal and empowerment, as you observe your own uninhibited reflection. With newfound vigor, you escalate the rhythm, riding Yoongi more vigorously. His appreciative groans and tender gaze mirror the intensity of the moment.

Unbridled desire takes over as your hands instinctively find their way to Yoongi's neck. Without a conscious thought, your fingers glide over the warmth of his skin, gently encircling his throat.

An electrifying jolt courses through you as you sense Yoongi's involuntary twitch within you, and you catch the ragged rhythm of his breath.

Panic courses through you, and you hastily retract your hands, realizing with a shock that you had unintentionally exerted pressure on Yoongi's throat. “Oh my God! I'm so sorry!” you blurt out, your apology a mix of concern and embarrassment.

“It's fine, Kitten. I like it,” he reassures you with a devilish grin, seizing your hands and guiding them back around his neck, his eyes sparking with a hint of mischief.

You shoot him a concerned glance, pausing your movements to ensure he's okay. Once he reassures you with a nod, signaling his approval, you dive back into the rhythm you had before.

With a newfound boldness, you tighten your grip around his throat, drawing out another satisfying twitch from him. His reaction sends a surge of pleasure through you as he hits that sweet spot, causing a kaleidoscope of sensations that make you see stars.

Your unrestrained moans fill the room, a symphony of desire that intertwines with the rhythmic sounds of your bodies colliding. The sight of Yoongi unraveling beneath your touch fuels a primal arousal, and you revel in the raw passion that courses through every fiber of your being.

“Fuck!” you pant.

“I’m gonna come,” you confess, the words escaping on a ragged breath, as you impale yourself on his dick. You’re body trembling as you hold the moment, savoring the anticipation before the inevitable plunge into ecstasy.

With a tender touch, you withdraw your hands from his throat, leaning down to kiss him. Your lips meet his in a dance of passion, tracing a path from his mouth to the very spots your fingers had claimed on his neck moments ago.

His low, guttural groan harmonizes with the rhythm as you ascend, reclaiming your perch on him. The dance begins anew, your body moving with purpose, riding the waves of pleasure set in motion by each calculated bounce on his throbbing length.

Yoongi's hands eagerly envelop your breasts, his fingers dancing with the rhythm of your fervent movements. With each descent onto him, you feel a surge of pleasure building, the shared pursuit of ecstasy driving you both towards the brink of blissful release.

His fingers deftly find your sensitive nipples, sending a jolt of pleasure through your body. The sensation is so intense that a fractured, high-pitched man escapes your lips, your back arching involuntarily in the exquisite dance of pleasure and pain.

As your walls instinctively clench around his pulsating dick, you witness the pleasure etched across his face, a delightful scrunching of his features that mirrors the ecstasy coursing through both of you.

“Yoongi, I’m com—,” you gasp, a desperate plea laced in your voice. Your words are unnecessary; the vice-like grip of your walls and the erratic cadence of your breath already convey the impending release that hangs thick in the air.

“Come all over my dick,” he smirks through a groan, a wicked gleam in his eyes. “Watch yourself fall apart in the mirror.”

How can this man ignite such an intense flame within you? The knot in your stomach tightens once more, and as you surrender to it, a primal, drawn-out moan escapes your lips, echoing the depths of your desire.

With unyielding eyes, you lock onto your own reflection in the mirror as ecstasy courses through you, marking the moment you climax on his d*ck. Your rhythmic bouncing falters, but Yoongi, sensing your need, seizes your hips and propels the pace, driving you deeper into the intoxicating whirlwind of pleasure.

Your mouth hangs open, breaths rapid and erratic, akin to the aftermath of a sprint, while every inch of your body throbs with the residual heat of a fervent blaze.

“So beautiful—FUCK!” he moans, powering into you with an astonishing velocity, sending shivers down your spine.

His hold on your hips tightens, your hands finding refuge on his sculpted chest for support. Your body teeters on the edge of weightlessness and grounding, as if you'd unravel if Yoongi's firm grasp on your hips faltered.

Despite the fatigue washing over you, a surge of determination courses through your veins. Summoning the last reserves of your strength, you entwine your fingers around his neck once more. You sense the impending release in Yoongi's every movement, and you're determined to be the catalyst that propels him over the edge.

The moment your grip tightens around his throat, a powerful surge reverberates through his dick within you, sending intoxicating waves of pleasure coursing through your body. It's an electrifying sensation, making every touch between you more intense and satisfying.

With an intense squeeze, you lock eyes with Yoongi, a plea in your gaze. “Fill me up, Yoongi.”

In a primal release, he surrenders to the moment, thrusting into you with an erratic rhythm, coating your walls with the warmth of his climax.

“Ahh,” he pants, the rush of air filling his lungs as you release your grip on his neck, both of you engulfed in the aftermath of shared release.

You watch him in amazement as his fervent thrusts subside, and he eases into the embrace of your bed, a portrait of passion painted across his beautiful face.

As he gradually softens within you, you take the initiative to lift yourself off him, both of your essences clinging to your skin, a residue of your shared passion that you welcome without reservation.

As you recline beside him, a soft chuckle escapes your lips, a shared breathlessness enveloping both of you. The air in the room is charged with the echo of passion, leaving a tangible energy that binds your entangled forms together.

Breathless and sporting a satisfied grin, he turns to you, his eyes filled with a post-passion glow. “Fuck that was incredible,”' he murmurs, capturing the shared intensity of the moment in the curve of his smile.

An undeniable contentment colors your voice as you respond, “Yeah,” savoring the echoes of pleasure that linger in the air.

Suddenly, a spark of realization ignites within you, propelling you to move with swift purpose. You crawl back on top of him, a burst of energy that startles him, like a surprise in the midst of shared afterglow.

“Why did you leave me?” you inquire, a tinge of accusation laced with the bitter notes in your voice. “Without a word or a farewell. Why did you disappear without a trace?”

His eyes widen momentarily before giving way to an expression of anguish and sadness. A tug at your heart intensifies, as his face alone tells a story you fear can't be good.

He begins with a heavy admission, meeting your eyes with earnest sincerity, “My brother died.”

Your words stumble out in a rush, “Oh, God! I'm so sorry!” The unexpected revelation leaves you fumbling for the right response.

His words flow, carrying a weight of anger and grief, “It's alright. ButI felt so much anger and grief, you know?” he explains, “so much so that I couldn't shapeshift and was stuck in my cat form.”

You exhale a soft ‘aha’ at his words, and the realization washes over you— he was grappling with his own demons, just as you were.

“When I'm consumed by intense emotions, I lose control of my ability to shapeshift, and, and—” You witness a tearful welling in his eyes, prompting you to gently cup his cheeks, reassuring him that it's okay.

“I just wanted to be alone and I didn’t want to burden you…” A few tears spill from his eyes, and you tenderly catch them with your gentle fingers.

You lean in, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek, finding solace in the curve of his neck, where his soft minty scent envelops you like a comforting embrace.

“I am so fucking sorry you had to endure that. I understand, truly. But you would never be a burden to me,” you express, gazing into his eyes with a tenderness that echoes your sincerity.

“I want to be there for you,” you declare, your own tears mirroring the empathy in your eyes.

“Ah, shit. I didn’t mean to cry. But, you know, I understand,” you say, your words accompanied by a wry smile as tears trickle down your face and onto Yoongi’s cheeks.

“I’m sorry, Kitten. I know. I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you.”

He seizes your cheeks, tugging you into a tender and unhurried kiss. Time loses its grip, and you're oblivious to the remnants of his seed mingling with your essence, creating a slippery trail between your pussy and his still-slick pelvis.

Lost in the rhythm of your kisses with Yoongi, you surrender to the moment, where every touch feels like a missing puzzle piece seamlessly falling into place.

The two cups of coffee are long forgotten.

Authors note (3): Thank you so very much if you have made it this far 😭 I know this story is a lot – I’ve been dealing with a lot of different stuff for many years, and some of it just got to be too much a few weeks ago, and this story popped into my head. It was therapeutic to write. I don’t know if people will like it or not, but in the end, that’s not what it’s about. It will just exist here.

If you struggle with any of these subjects or emotions, you’re always welcome in my inbox – I’m not a trained psychologist or anything, though! But sometimes it is better to voice your feelings, than struggling in silence. Everybody’s welcome 🫂

I hope you’re doing well. Thank you for you 💜

#yoongi x reader #myg x reader #yoongi smut #bts x reader #bangtan x reader #bangtan smut #yoongi fanfic #reader: female #au: hybrid #au: strangers to lovers #au: fantasy #au: shapeshifter #au: slice of life #au: cafe #vibe: angst #vibe: smutty

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