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msafterhours · 25 days

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Saccharine | Act Two

Male Reader x (G)I-DLE Yuqi

[Act 1] Act 2 (~14.7k words) [Act 3]

Note: this is not intended as a standalone story. If you haven’t already read Act One, I’d highly recommend doing so before reading further so that you don’t miss out on important context.

As the dawn of the final day of 2021 breaks over the horizon, you finish acquiring the answer to your earlier inquiry. Apparently, nothing awaits, as for the first time in a long while, swaths of darkness have been painted over your hours of slumber. It’s been a stark contrast, even compared to the mundane manifestations that have previously filled insignificant periods. Especially for a mind as active as yours, it’s become an unwelcome disruption to your expected existence, plunging you into a deep fatigue that you’ve been unable to shake. And to top it all off, another disruption awaits you upon awakening—this time landing squarely in your inbox.

ASong4You: I’m going to be with Soyeon the whole broadcast, so if we’re going to meet up again, it’ll have to be at or after the afterparty ASong4You: Should I look for you somewhere?

For as much as she dislikes being called cute, it’s honestly adorable how straight she’s playing this. As if it’s completely normal to have someone make you see stars upon the first time meeting them in person. But the truth of how rattled she is reveals itself in the vulnerability she’s exposed. So, you might as well pretend to play along. Somewhat.

TurnThePage: Don’t worry, I’ll make sure it’s easy to find me at the afterparty TurnThePage: We’ll see how it goes from there

The read notification acts as enough of a response for you, and you close the app. Until a realization hits and you reopen it.

TurnThePage: Also bring me my fucking scarf

You see another read receipt and the beginnings of a message, but then, a pause. You immediately know; you can hear the laughter she’s undoubtedly doubled over with—the memory echoing in your mind clearer than the chirps of the birds outside your window.

ASong4You: Fuck no, this thing’s comfy as hell TurnThePage: THAT’S THE POINT ASong4You: Alright fine, but only if you ask nicely

You nearly do as she asks, but pride jumps in front of the word “please” in your mental dictionary and refuses to allow you access. So—just like you’ve always done—you pivot.

TurnThePage: What if I come gift wrapped with a little bow on top

This time, the memory echoes resonate through your mind long before your phone vibrates with a response. The clarity is borderline concerning, but you cast it aside as you return to her response.

ASong4You: Then you just might get me to do as you ask TurnThePage: I still don’t get why I have to do something to get my stuff back ASong4You: To be fair you never had to give me it in the first place TurnThePage: To be fair, they’re still there, aren’t they?

Read? Yes.

Replied to? Of course not. All you’re left with is a protracted silence that paints a picture worth a thousand words.

TurnThePage: You know what, maybe just keep it for now TurnThePage: You never know when you might need it, especially at this time of year … ASong4You: I swear to god I’m going to give you bruises that’ll make mine look like fingerprints in comparison TurnThePage: Wouldn’t want it any other way.

What a way to start the morning. Your routine passes by in a flash, leaving you facing a familiar screen and the unfamiliar dilemma of what to do with a few hours of free time. Your mind casts itself back to her earlier statement and her plans for the day, inspiring an idea that influences your plans for its remainder. While you may have professional obligations at this event, there’s no reason you can’t benefit from some personal profits along the way. So, you send a few quick emails that net quicker responses, and from there, you’re off to the races. You stockpile a selection of questions, feebly attempting to justify this personal project’s importance, and, a few hours later, you leave. Well ahead of schedule; just in case.

You arrive alone, head held high as you greet the familiar security staff who wave you right on by. This time, you're more selective in your choice of targets—more specific in the questions you ask them. You keep the conversations short, just barely long enough to glean the necessary information without claiming a spot amongst their memories of the night. No more than an hour passes before you know exactly where every performer will be and when they'll be there, affording you clarity on where you want to be and where you need to avoid.

Your efficiency is quickly rewarded as once again, even though you have hours until the broadcast goes live, the performers begin arriving in droves. With your opportunity fast approaching, you tap into the vast repository of knowledge you’ve gleaned over the past couple of years and make a few stops along the way towards your destination. Once your hands are full of items that you know idols tend to request during waiting periods—water, fans, phone chargers, etc.—you step into the waiting room reserved for an absolute all-star lineup of idols tonight.

One by one by two by one they arrive until ultimately you’re flanked by five. Some of the hottest faces in the industry—figuratively and literally—sit around the table with you, shining brighter than spotlights as you all share war stories and discuss the year in retrospect. Hwang Yeji, leader of ITZY, is happy to share about her members’ Christmas craziness and her own ambitious New Year’s resolutions. Kim Minju, Music Core host and alleged actress, shares about her particular difficulty facing the struggles that all the IZ*ONE members must be feeling post disbandment. An Yujin and Jang Wonyoung, maknaes of the aforementioned group and mega stars of their new one IVE, provide their own insights on the struggles and successes of the past year of their lives. But it’s the sixth member of the conversation you have the most questions for. Because Cho Miyeon is the one who sits alongside you as you ask her question after question about the time spent since she last stood under the spotlight seven months ago.

Under this pretense of an interview—some project about this year being the liberation from lockdowns and what it means to those with fans around the world—you foster familiarity and fondness in the hearts of these fellow aspirants, these industry peers that a fool might allow themselves to call “friends”. Your initial questions are precise, measured, and specifically aimed towards achieving one goal in particular: endearing yourself to the ally of your enemy before your date with the devil. Even as the performers come and go, changing outfits and patiently sitting until their perfect faces are painted enough to be “presentable”, you keep the conversation alive. At first, you keep the flame lit with convenient kindling, sharing stories you’ll happily let leave this room and asking questions you prepared well in advance. However, the group’s congregation precedes two hours of waiting for the broadcast to begin—and that’s not even mentioning the two or so more that’ll pass before they’re scheduled to go on stage. In an effort to hold back the darkness, your stories become less selective and secrets begin to slip past your lips amidst the sea of words pouring out from all involved. You respond to a question about how you choose the topics to write about, then add on an explanation of how you choose what not to write. From there, the conversation shifts, and Yeji ends up sharing a dream that’s been haunting her—one about love and loss and the end of life. You share your sympathies and nearly get far more specific about your own experiences before you catch yourself and course correct, leading the conversation elsewhere. The IVE duo puts forth quite the interesting tale of adapting to dorm life with their new quartet of members and the difficulties of rewriting their tendencies from living with the IZ*ONE members. Once again, you share a similar story and then a bit more, telling of your own shock when your editor had recently been fired and the difficulties of finding a suitable replacement. Not every thread of conversation ends up involving you, but many do, leaving you with an ever-shrinking suite of “safe” stories to share. It truly is a lovely interview. It's also the least important reason you're there.

You’re fascinated by how the conversation ebbs and flows, especially as Yeji leaves for her group’s performance and the IVE duo departs twice to do the same. It leaves you with further opportunity to inject a deeper sense of intimacy into the conversation, inviting the others to join you in confiding your concerns. Minju seems all too happy to oblige in one such moment, divulging to you and Miyeon the depths of her fears of irrelevancy in an industry so cutthroat—especially with a future so unclear. Before you can even begin to offer a response, Miyeon—someone who’s had no need to initiate a conversation due to the frequency of questions directed towards her—speaks up, sharing her own struggles in the aftermath of Soojin’s departure. You offer her the respect of absolute silence as she reassures Minju, revealing the significance of the impact losing only a single member had on her and empathizing with Minju’s struggles in facing a similar feeling but with such greater magnitude. It strikes you suddenly how precarious the platform of popularity must be for these rising stars to feel such fear in the face of the unknowns awaiting them on the other side of midnight. Once the magnitude of the moment has lessened, you offer what empty empathy you can before deciding on a more tangible course of action: deleting the recording, erasing the entirety of three hours of a potential transcript in an attempt to protect their privacy. Both immediately offer their genuine gratitude as they look to you with shock clearly visible in their eyes, refusing to allow you to diminish the significance even as you put forth a paltry attempt to brush it off with a claim that you can use some old recordings or something. Eventually, you all drop it and move on, even if they don’t share your reason for doing so. They never realize why you’re so willing to lie, why you couldn’t care less about the recording. Only you truly know that you’ll never be able to forget this conversation.

In hindsight, you'll find it funny how everything unfolded. Coming in, you intended to be memorable. You wanted to be likable. You needed Miyeon to smile upon hearing your name. In all aspects of your planning, you succeeded. You just never accounted for the effect she'd have on you.

The missing trio returns shortly after, and the conversation thankfully returns fully to simpler topics, allowing you a brief respite. You can’t help but let your posture slip as well, resting your head on the back of the couch as your body slumps to the side. It isn’t until you feel the couch shift slightly that you realize you’ve halved the distance between you and Miyeon, who seems to adjust her own position on the couch. But she doesn’t pull away. She moves closer … just slightly. Not enough to close the gap, but enough to tease the possibility. Even for you, someone so perfect at performing the part you need to play, it’s enticing—even more so when considering the events of the past week. With your current position atop the peak of anticipation, a strong breeze could be more than enough to unseat you, and instead there’s a raging storm of possibility seated less than a meter away from you, demanding you detour away from your current path. Somehow, you manage to resist your urges, reminding yourself you’ve come too far to divert from the opportunity at the end of the tunnel. As tempting of an unknown as Miyeon might be, you know you’ll never forgive yourself if you miss out on the opportunity to know her.

What is it about her that leaves you desperately investing time and effort into figuring it out?

How does she seem to have the most specific comments at the most opportune times?

Why the fuck is Song Yuqi the reason you can’t sleep at night?

Regardless, it ultimately matters little, as it’s minutes later when you rejoin the conversation and less than an hour before the quintet is called to get ready to perform. You stand as well, offering them thanks for their time and well-wishes for their performance before mirroring their hopes to see each other at the afterparty. Miyeon is the last to leave, reaching back to close the door and holding your eyes for two moments longer than you’d expect before shutting it and leaving you alone.

-x-

Roughly ten minutes later, their performance comes on the broadcast and you enjoy the f(x) homage before quickly tuning out upon its conclusion. With another two hours to go before the broadcast’s end and the subsequent mass exodus to the hotel hosting the afterparty, you concede to your fatigue and decide to rest your eyes. One set alarm later, the world around you fades and you drift off into the darkness. Upon your arrival in dreamland, you’re surprised at the darkness’ refusal to disperse, leaving you blind within an expanse of eruptions. On one side of you, you can hear the crashing of lightning as a thunderstorm rains down its wrath, while on the other, you can hear the crackle of flame as it spreads and ignites vast swathes of this obscured landscape. No matter where you try to look or turn, the dueling elements match your movements, perfectly mirroring one another as they come ever closer. Just as you’re about to melt under their might, you are quite literally saved by the bell as your alarm clock rouses you back into reality.

Only five minutes of the broadcast before the real party starts. Literally. You stand, stretch, then step out of the room riddled with remnants of secrets shared over the past six or so hours. Within the halls of the venue, you can hear the voices of the groups as they sing their final performance of 2021, leaving you alone among the staff and solo performers. Solo performers like Miyeon, whose gaze immediately captivates you as she confidently closes the distance.

“Hey you. How’s it going?”

“Doing good, kinda just still getting my bearings after waking up,” you answer, intentionally letting a yawn escape to sell the point. “What about you?”

“Well, I was looking for Soyeon, but I think my other members might have left a long time ago. Maybe I’ll see them at the afterparty but … wait, did you say waking up? What have you been doing for the past two hours?” Miyeon asks, jealousy spreading across her face as she arches a judgemental eyebrow.

You put forth your best sheepish expression as you explain, “Ah, gotcha. But, uh, yeah … I watched your performance—you were amazing by the way—and then decided to take a nap. It’s been a long day, so catching up for a couple of hours was very helpful.”

Miyeon’s eyes roll and arms cross as she scoffs, “Lucky you, I’m still exhausted!”

“I mean, I’ve heard caffeine can’t fix everything,” you say, teeing up your suggestion as you capture her eyes once more. “But it’s definitely worth a shot.”

“Or two,” she immediately adds, smiling in a way you can’t help but mirror. “You think anywhere’s going to be open tonight?”

“Speaking as a self-aware coffee addict myself,” you dramatically declare. “I’m absolutely sure someone was smart enough to stay open and cater to those in desperate need.”

You feel the corners of your lips climb up your cheeks as her eyes light up, brighter than a flash of lightning as she responds, “God, I hope you’re right! Then let’s go; you want a ride?”

“Of course, after you! We’ve been here for far too long.”

Your conversation from before resumes seamlessly, allowing you to speculate with her about the inevitable insanity that’s sure to define the upcoming countdown. From within the tinted windows of the company car you can see the last nightfall of 2021, a year you’ll define by shadows and the lights that cast them. It’s borderline hilarious how backwards this entire year has seemed, with your capitalization on lockdowns leading to terminally online fans thrusting you into the spotlight while (G)I-DLE’s scandal forced them to take a step back into the darkness. Some might take this opportunity to reflect, maybe even celebrate their growth and accomplishments; you know, ask the world to give them their flowers or something. Not you. You’d rather guarantee tomorrow’s bloom by spending today sowing seeds. So, you make absolutely sure to get Miyeon’s drink order right before you run inside and order the trio of drinks. One for you, one for Miyeon, and one for her manager. Just in case, because you’ll never know when you’ll need to cash in on the priceless value of a good word.

Later—a week, month, year from now—you won’t remember the words shared in the back seat of the car chauffeuring you to the hotel. Some matter, more than usual, but none of them resonate soundly enough to derail the train of thought chugging along through your mind: why does Miyeon, this wonderful girl who smells faintly of roses and whose cheeks get rosy pink near the end of her drink, tolerate her transgressions? You want nothing more than to ask, but you keep your cards close to your chest, knowing that now isn’t the time to reveal your hand. You’ve come too far to risk going all in now.

You need not test your patience for long, for shortly after your brief diversion, you hit a cluster of traffic outside the hotel—an impeccable indicator of your intended timing. Even from a distance, you can see the ever-shifting stream of stars shuffling into the hotel’s lobby, where you’re sure that a whole galaxy of partygoers awaits within. Almost immediately, you shift the conversation towards the delicacies on display, getting Miyeon’s perspective on her peers and their approach to parties. On one hand, it’s fascinating getting insights directly from someone within the ecosystem rather than interpreting the ripples that reach the edges of the pond. On the other, it creates the exact kind of conversation you’d hoped to inspire—a cautious yet fervent discussion of many of the quiet things everyone’s dying to say aloud. And with a significant number of idols across a multitude of generations congregating in the area, you have plenty of kindling to keep the passionate conversation ablaze, all the way through the line of cars and even up to the entrance itself.

You arrive together, head down slightly as you whisper back and forth with Miyeon, continuing your soft scrutiny of the other arrivals. Once inside, even though there’s a sea of individuals milling about, your eyes immediately find your intended target. Near one of the back left doors out of the main hall stands the only person who matters—a short little blonde wearing a cute black dress and an expression so shocked you’re surprised the whole building hasn’t short circuited. You find satisfaction in the surprise in her eyes as she desperately attempts to process your arrival. In that stunned countenance, in the vulnerability visible, you find your victory. You find the moment you’ve dedicated the entire final day of the year to. Now to find a drink.

After bidding Miyeon a fond farewell and wishing her luck in finding her other group members, you take your leave and begin wading through the crowd, intent on reaching a high-visibility area. You can't even make it over to the punch table before her hand is clasped around your throat.

No words are spoken. None are necessary. You knew the implication of your actions. You knew full well the exact contents of the message you'd send by arriving with another member of her group. And as you look down at her, you're met by the fire in her eyes burning bright blue, hotter than you've ever seen. Her seething expression presents a question. Your shameless smile presents your own. Somewhere along this charged connection between you two, a spark ignites the fuse. There's no backing out now.

It's only a matter of time before you two burn this whole damned building to the ground.

“Hey, glad you could make it,” you say, as if this whole situation were the most casual thing in the world.

“Just for once, won’t you fucking listen?” she asks, pulling her hand away and balling it into a fist as her voice drops dangerously low. “I know you think you have your reasons for hating me and I’ll even concede that some of them might be valid, but you have no reason to hurt her or any of my friends. So fuck off.”

You don't offer a response—at least not directly. You brush past her, gesturing for her to follow as you make your way towards your original destination: the bar and, most importantly, away from the center of the crowd.

Your tone is hushed as you speak, drawing her closer to you. It’s not a visual you’re especially fond of, but a necessary sacrifice in the name of privacy. “I’m not gonna stand here and lie to you by saying that my reasons for talking with Miyeon are entirely altruistic,” you concede, pausing for a moment as you smile at the bartender and give him your order. “But I am speaking the truth when I say I have no intentions of letting her get caught in the crossfire. Unlike some, I’m considerate enough to keep innocents from getting involved.”

You turn back and witness her reaction, drinking in the delicious disbelief as she declares, “How dare you! I give everything to make sure they’re not affected by my actions!”

Someone else might have believed her, but you know better. “What about the audio tech you punched while filming with your members?”

You find another flash of vulnerability in her eyes, but in a blink, it disappears, hidden behind her defenses. “That was the third shoot in a row he’d made a mistake and clearly he wasn’t listening to the previous warnings!”

“And the outfit you ripped in half mere hours before performing?” you ask, taking your drink from the bartender and sliding him a fair bit more than its cost. You give him a certain type of smile and he nods in recognition, swearing silence and allowing you to dedicate the entirety of your attention to the interrogation at hand as you resume walking towards the fringes of the lobby.

“The stylist showed up hungover with multiple botched outfits for our first ever awards show!” she fires back as she follows close behind.

Another sip. Another step. Anything to create some semblance of distance away from the crowd. “And the CUBE employee guidelines? The list of rules that every new hire needs to know in order to protect themselves from you?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” she huffs, but the sudden hurt in her eyes reveals the truth behind her lies.

“Alright, I’m sure you have plenty of excuses ready, but I think you’re intentionally avoiding the obvious question,” you say, stretching out the silence with another slow swig from the glass as you continue to walk. “Don’t you think that the best way to protect your friends from collateral damage is by not causing it in the first place?”

Her eyes avert once more, refusing to acknowledge you or the truth. “It’s not that simple. Just—god fucking damnit—please don’t rope her into this. I don’t know who’s told you those stories or what they’ve told you, but …”

She trails off suddenly, cut short by the singsong sounds of a familiar friend’s words on the wind. For once, you have no trouble finding her eyes as both of you tense upon hearing Miyeon’s voice in the crowd, moving in your direction.

“Well, it’s been fun, but I know that she’s looking for you, so—”

“I’m not done with you yet.” Her voice cuts in, ending your sentence as her eyes sweep across the room, scouring the sea of stars as she searches for the voice in question. “You’re coming with me—I’ve been here before and I know somewhere private we can finish this conversation.”

You raise your hands in mock surrender, smiling wide as you respond, “Very well, princess. Lead the way.”

“Do not fucking call me that,” she growls, grabbing your arm and all but dragging you towards a pair of nondescript doors amongst many others decorating the wall. Her surprising strength aside, you’re happy to oblige, following in her footsteps as the proximity lets you catch a whiff of something unfamiliar on the lips you’d so closely acquainted yourself with. With a sudden realization, you receive an unspoken answer to the question of what she’d been doing prior to your arrival; you discover what’s fueling the fire behind her eyes. You realize that she’s running on liquid courage as she quietly opens the door and pushes you inside. All the bright lights fade as she slips past and the door closes behind you, plunging you both into darkness.

Your mind’s still working in overdrive as you stand in the darkness, but as you place your drink down and break the silence, you can’t help but test just how long her fuse truly is. “Really, a supply closet? Could you get more cliché?”.

Even before she turns on the light—even before she turns and you see the fire in her eyes—you know your words have acted as a final spark just based on her posture alone. Because she does turn on the light and she does turn to face you. But she doesn’t look at you the same way. You’re no longer the threat you might have been ten minutes ago. No, when she looks at you now, she wears the cruel confidence of a huntress ready to strike. Guess who that leaves to play the part of the prey.

“Here’s the fucking problem.” A single step forward, shortening the gap between you two. “You have so much shit to answer for …” Another, and she’s halfway to you. “But I’m so fucking sick of hearing you talk.” Once more, and you have to hold your breath to keep from fanning the flames of the inferno looking up at you. “So I’m gonna make you forget every sob story you’ve heard about me.” She continues, pushing her body against yours until you’re backed up against the wall. “Because I’m not the Disney villain they make me out to be …” Her hand wraps around the back of your head, pulling you close as she whispers in your ear, “I’m so much fucking worse.”

Her fangs flash for a moment before plunging into the side of your neck, nearly piercing your flesh as she hungrily sucks at your skin. Immediately, your hands latch onto her sides, desperate for any semblance of a tether to reality as your adrenaline skyrockets and your head spins. You try to snake a hand up her shirt—try to find some possibility of going on the offensive—but she immediately pounces, smacking it away as her own hands start exploring.

“Oh, not so tough now that I’ve got you right where I want you, hm?” she taunts, denying your ability to catch your breath or muster a response as she crashes her lips against yours. It’s so unlike you to be caught without an answer—so unlike you to be the one without a plan. Last time, things were under your control, but this time, any inhibitions you might have expected her to carry seem to have been left at the door. This time, she’s the one with hands up your shirt, scratching and clawing and exploring every centimeter of the chest that contains your pounding heart. Your hands shift down, finding a perfect fit as you cup the curve of her ass and lean into the kiss. The sweetness of cherry clashes with the familiar burn of hard liquor, adding to the endless list of sensations vying for your attention.

Your eyes finally snap open as her lips unlatch from yours and her hands pull away, allowing you the briefest of moments to inhale some much-needed oxygen. Even in her silence, you feel her emotions emanating throughout the room. Temptation. Jubilation. Vexation. Exhilaration. Oh, and lust. So much fucking lust. All it takes is the tiniest raise of her eyebrows and a hint of a smirk to fuel the flames as she sinks to her knees. There’s a dark edge to her words as her eyeline meets your beltline and she chuckles, “Wow … looks like someone’s excited to see me.”

You can’t help but let out a small laugh of your own as you wonder how you’ve let things get this far. It’s you. It’s her. It’s the fact that you’re about to do this in a fucking storage closet of all places. The fact that you managed to survive meeting her and still came back for more. None of the choices that’ve led you to this moment have been correct, but you’re already flying Bad Decision Airlines, so why not fly first class? “Aren’t there more important things that mouth should be doing?”

Her eyes roll with the poise of a practiced gymnast as she deftly unbuckles your belt and unbuttons the top of your slacks. The ungodly glint in her eyes gleams once more as she leans forward and captures the zipper between her teeth, dragging it down as she looks up at you with wicked intent. Go ahead, you hear through unspoken words. Keep pretending like you’re in control—like you’re not putty in my hands.

Your pants hit the floor, and you’re concerningly convinced that your pride’s soon to follow. Her hands glide up your legs, ghosting over your calves and teasing your thighs before snaking their way inside the underwear your cock has been straining against since you first laid eyes on her. Immediately upon contact, you can’t help but shiver. Not because of the cold—that’d be impossible with this much heat in the room. It’s the culmination of the anticipation that’s been building within you all week, no, for months now. If not longer. … Definitely longer.

And it’s all been leading up to this: your cock pulsing with anticipation as she drags your underwear down and takes it in her hands, letting her warm breath wash over it as her tongue runs over her lips and she reaches out to—

You both freeze, locking eyes. She sees the conflict in your eyes. You see the concern in hers. You both stop—separating as she rises from the ground and you get dressed in a hurry—because you both heard the same songbird from before, this time singing your name as she searches through the crowd.

“What. The. Fuck.” Her not-quite-question hangs in the air, acting as accusation, bewilderment, chagrin, distrust—nearly a whole alphabet of bad vibes—all at once.

You raise your hands in the air, attempting to act innocent for once. “Hey, I wouldn’t lie to you.” Obviously, that’s a lie and it slips seamlessly off your tongue. “I had no ill intentions when getting to know Miyeon better and growing our professional friendship.” That’s a lie too. “I was genuinely enjoying talking with her.” That one … isn’t?

Ultimately, her skepticism never leaves, but she forces herself to do so. After taking a quick peek out of the door, she slips out, rejoining the ever-shifting mess of a crowd that continues to speak so many words while saying so little.

-x-

Shortly after—specifically after finishing your drink—you do the same, sneaking out and finally joining the New Year’s Eve party in earnest. You rub shoulders with a couple managers, compliment the dress of a soloist, and even round out the numbers for one group’s drinking game.

Once you finally step back and return to the periphery to get a refill, you get a wonderful view of the lobby and the celebration of the industry you’ve spent the past four years trying to conquer. Surface level analysis would likely call it beautiful; those with a bit more insight might point out the darker components that keep the machine running smoothly. But as entrenched as you are, you know the truth can be found somewhere between the two extremes. Nights like tonight, where the honest truths spoken earlier drown out the honeyed lies you hear all around you, remind you that the pressure exerted by the spotlight on these young stars surrounding you can produce truly resplendent diamonds. And looking out across the floor, it brings a smile to your face to see so many shining so brightly.

It’s just such a fucking shame that leverage is only found in the darkest rooms of the penthouse suite. As much as you’d like to linger on the line of thought, a familiar flash of brilliant blonde in the corner of your eye cuts it short. A quick glance confirms your suspicions: it’s a bad idea led by the best of intentions.

“Hey, you,” a bubbly voice calls to you.

“Oh, hey Miyeon,” you say, allowing the warm smile to naturally develop even as you struggle to silence your internal screaming. “How're you?”

“I'm good, glad I finally found you!” she exclaims, shining brightly as ever. “What’ve you been up to, enjoying the party so far?”

“Oh, you know. Mostly just making the rounds, getting to know people better. Listening to their jokes, laughing at most of them while finding few of them funny,” you say, sharing a shocking number of words for them all to be true. “What about you?”

“I found my pseudo-siblings! It’s always nice to catch up with Sana and Jiwon, especially since it’s been a little while since a big in-person event like this has happened,” Miyeon explains, smile unwavering even as you see her mind cast back to the past two years. “But all that aside, I wanted to introduce you to my groupmate and very close friend, Yuqi.”

Your eyes lock. Your breath catches as your throat dries up. Somewhere in the background, the music shifts to a slower song and you can even swear that the lighting changes slightly, casting a golden glow on her face. Maybe it’s all just your imagination.

What’s undeniably real is the smirk she wears so well, silently presenting you with a question even as the arch of your eyebrow presents your own. For once, she drapes herself in shockingly steady confidence, causing you to almost feel proud of how well she’s hiding the shared history between you two. This time she’s the one who shatters the brief silence, bowing slightly as she says, “It’s a pleasure to meet you! I’ve heard nothing but good things.”

You mirror her bow, painting on your own smile as you respond, “The pleasure’s all mine; I’ve heard so much about you too. How’ve you been enjoying the party so far?”

You watch as her smirk widens, showing hints of the predatory smile she wore not too long ago. There’s no stopping your own expression as it morphs to mirror hers. Both of you know full well how much danger you’re putting yourselves in—how little subtlety there is to the game you’re playing. Each of you toes the line of letting slip your little secret, but neither of you seems to care. Instead, she simply says, “Oh, it’s been fine so far. Uneventful compared to what’s coming.”

“Indeed,” you volley back. “This is my first time at one of these New Year’s parties. Do you know if there’s usually a big event around midnight?”

“Isn’t there always?” Yuqi asks, chuckling incredulously as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

“Some people definitely stick around for the countdown,” Miyeon explains, her smile warm and welcoming.

“And the others?” you ask, clearly offering the bait for Yuqi to pounce on if she so desires. But she’s not the one to do so.

“There’s a reason the invitations suggested booking a room in advance,” Miyeon adds, allowing the implication to hang in the air as hints of humor find a home in her smile.

“Then I should be glad I’m so good at following directions,” you jest, refusing to grant Yuqi the satisfaction of allowing her to stare into your soul as you hold Miyeon’s gaze.

“Indeed,” you hear Yuqi growl from behind surely gritted teeth. “It’s so nice to come to one of these parties and not have to worry about unexpected circumstances.”

“Normally I’d agree,” you begin, finally flashing a genuine smile in her direction. “But what better time to have fun than tonight?”

“Fun?” she echoes, ghosts of a smile teasing the corners of her lips as her competitive spirit rises once more. It’s impossible to miss the unspoken challenge in her words; she’s daring you to define your definition of fun, like she’s dying to know if it matches hers.

"Isn't that what these parties are about?" you reply evenly, ever the professional. "A chance to let loose without the scrutiny of the public eye."

Her laugh is hollow and haughty as she shakes her head, seemingly in disbelief at your response. “You’ve clearly never been to one of these parties before.”

“Even the tiniest of leaks is too much of a risk for everyone here,” Miyeon explains amiably. “Too much to lose, nowhere near enough to gain.”

“At least not on this floor,” you add, allowing the unspoken words to speak volumes as you raise your glass for a toast.

This time, the humor reaches Yuqi’s eyes as her icy demeanor begins to thaw. “Now you’re getting it.”

With a clink of your glasses, the conversation shifts, weaving its way from topic to topic as the three of you discuss the cities you most want to visit, music of all languages, first impressions, and so, so much more. Expectations be damned, it isn’t anywhere near the clusterfuck you’d feared it’d be—if anything, it’s nothing short of really fucking fun. The chemistry you three share is vivid without straying into volatility, and as much as you hate to admit it, the conversation is at its most vivacious during the interactions between yourself and Yuqi. You, for once, hold nothing back: sharing stories freely and firing off joke after joke without a second thought. Miyeon acts flawlessly as the bridge between you two—quietly contributing to most of the conversation yet eager to jump in on a topic she’s excited about—acting as the light that allows your duet to shine. That, of course, leaves Yuqi as your partner in this performance, but not the Yuqi you’ve come to know. She seems different in this environment—less ferocity, more sincerity. As much as each of you still has a part to play, the lack of tension makes her all the more enthralling, drawing you in as her genuine laughter slices through the intoxicating haze permeating the party. But the shocks don’t end there.

The first time Yuqi tells a joke, you’re caught so off-guard that you can’t help but burst into laughter. The second time, you’re more prepared, yet you’re still left in stitches. And the third—where you end up saying the punchline in unison with her—strikes all of you out. Tears form in the corner of your eyes and stream down the faces of the other two, leaving you all gasping for air even as you laugh so hard it hurts. As you regain your composure, you look through blurry eyes and catch a flash of something in Miyeon’s expression. It’s hard to pin down—a quirk of the mouth or a twitch of the nose—but there’s something hidden somewhere under her radiance that you fear is recognition. It certainly doesn’t help when she excuses herself for a moment, leaving you and Yuqi alone as she goes to refill her drink.

“I never would have thought you’d be a fan of the NBA,” you admit, turning and meeting her eyes with ease.

“Funny you should say that. I’d never have imagined you’d be someone who loves hot pot too! There’s this place in Beijing that’s to die for; you’ll have to try it sometime,” she says with an effortless smile. On instinct, you smile back, but just like that—a single mention of China—and you’re back in the real world.

The one where her vile actions are afterthoughts and her victims’ faces are forgotten. “Maybe I’ll have to go there next time I’m in the country,” you say, shrugging nonchalantly as you struggle to quell the surging storm.

The one where she’s been invited to these kinds of parties from day one while your invitation has been four years in the making. Her eyes twinkle excitedly as she asks, “Oh, have you visited before?”

The one where she seems incapable of losing while even a chance of victory costs you everything. “Twice, actually,” you explain, sighing deeply. “Once to Beijing, and once to Hangzhou.”

The one where she’s gotten under your skin, leaving you defenseless as she holds a gun to your heart. “Sounds like some bad memories,” she comments, a combination of curiosity and concern across her countenance as she refuses to let your gaze escape hers.

The one where you’ll do anything to hide the shameful fact that you wanted nothing more than to exactly what she wanted and scream her name that night in Hangzhou. So, you make sure she’ll forget you ever mentioned it. “Well, the last time I was in Beijing was almost four years ago, when someone spent well over ten minutes verbally assaulting a poor production assistant. So there’s that.”

As soon as the words leave your mouth, you can feel their edge sever any connection that’d been built up over the course of the previous conversation. Her casual posture is cast aside as recognition and resentment both register, leaving only a smothering silence in the space between you two. Those eyes—sparkling just a moment ago with genuine interest—harden into smoky quartz. The edges of her lips thin and tighten, the earlier cheer fading into a cold, impassive line.

"You're judging me for something that happened four years ago?" she counters, voice low and coated in disbelief. “Most people would have forgotten something like that by now.”

“Most people don’t have the petrified visage of a poor stylist recounting your misdeeds burned into their memory.”

“Is that so?” she deadpans. “Tell me, was it Xuě? Lìlì? Who told you that story?” You meet her questions with silence, and she immediately pounces on the opportunity to continue on. “You don’t even know. You’re desperately clinging to a long dead justification and attempting to bring me down alongside it.”

Your blood returns to a familiar boil—the type only she can bring out of you—as you respond, “My sincerest apologies for the lapse in memory, but who are you to speak of justifications? The reason I can’t remember her name is because I was too stunned by the vitriol you were screaming into some poor man’s ear one room away from me!”

“He’d sabotaged my schedule, trying to make me miss an evaluation just before the final lineup was decided! He was trying to ruin my career!” Her reply climbs in volume, threatening to draw the attention of everyone in the vicinity as your tempers begin to flare and clash against one another once more.

“And why do you think he wanted to see you fail?” you ask, whispered words slipping out in a single breath. From your lips, a question. To her ears, an accusation. In both your minds, you know full well that the only part that matters is that it’s the beginning of an impasse. So now, you’re both stuck staring, waiting for the other to make the first move.

You just happen to be the first to do so. “We need to stop this; we’re getting nowhere, and we’re never going to get anywhere,” you say, exerting tremendous effort to keep your voice steady even as the pounding headache threatens your rhythm. “At least not on this floor.”

The look she gives you is incredulous, but you know her too well to miss the signs of intrigue hidden just beneath her mask. “What the fuck are you on about?”

“We’re both staying here, right?” you ask, pausing for a moment and earning a nod of confirmation. “Then we have a chance to truly make tonight memorable … maybe even have some fun along the way.”

“I don’t think I like where this is going,” she says aloud, but her eyes silently plead for you to continue.

Your smile stretches wide as the words tumble past your lips, uncontrollable and dangerous as your mouth moves faster than your mind. “I think you will. I’ll message you my room number and we’ll go our separate ways—you can tell Miyeon that I was too tired to stay or something. You’re welcome to visit my room at any time, but if you decide not to, we’ll both have a quiet New Year’s Eve.”

“That isn’t much of a game,” she says, eyes narrowing in anticipation. “There’s a catch, isn’t there? There always is with you.”

“Of course, why play without stakes?” you confirm, laughing hollowly as you continue to dig your own grave. You’re too far in at this point—too invested in the lie to let it slide now. The game you two have played has always been dangerous, but now, with your pride on the line, you’ll accept nothing but a victory. You can’t lose to her. “I know that you’re coming back with a new album soon. If you manage to make it to midnight—if you win—I’ll make sure you shine brightest in the most glowing review I’ll ever write. And that’ll be it. We’ll both leave this hotel tomorrow and go back to our normal lives, pretending that none of this ever happened.”

“And if I don’t?” she asks, trying her best to remain calm.

She’s always brought out the worst in you. “Then you’ll come to my room and we’ll finally finish what we’ve been building up to for months.” It’s about time you showed it. “But I’ll write an article dragging the whole fucking group through the mud in the harshest condemnation you’ve ever seen, and the only consolation you’ll have is that only you and I will know it’s all your fault.”

“You wouldn’t,” she immediately retorts, but one look at the unhinged dance of flames in your eyes and she knows better than to test your resolve. “Fuck. You would. You absolutely fucking would. Why are you like this?”

It takes you a moment to gather your strength, but you reach deep into your bag of tricks and pull out a neglected yet powerful weapon: the truth. “Because I’m tired of seeing you escape the consequences of your actions. I want to see you make a decision that matters for once. And honestly, I’m just curious if you’re going to be able to sleep at night knowing you missed the chance for me to make all your dreams come true.”

You see hints of the ghost of her competitive spirit once more in her eyes, but it remains mostly hidden, obscured by the smolders left in the wake of the fire that burned so bright. “Yeah? My dreams are pretty hot.”

“Yeah? Mine too,” you fire back a moment later than you should, seriously unnerved once again by the specificity of her words. “Seems like we’ll both have to bring our best when you visit my room.”

“You’re so, so wrong …” she whispers, words exiting her mouth as if unbidden, captured by a phantom and transported to your ears against her will.

“I’ll leave you with your thoughts,” you whisper, leaning close to personally deliver your parting remarks into her ear. “Now, be a good little professional and smile as you walk away. You wouldn't want people to get the right idea about us, would you?”

You send one last synthetic smirk her way before departing, making your way towards the elevator as you check the time: a bit past ten, which means you’ll have to wait less than two hours for your answer. As you ride up to your floor, you send her your room number, closing the app before checking to see if she’d read your message. As you exit the empty elevator and see a flash of color in your periphery, your mind races with potential ideas. You immediately jump back in, hitting the button for another floor as you decide on a couple of places you’d like to stop by. Your mind is made up by the time the doors open once more, and you begin your preparations in full.

Regardless of the outcome, it’s going to be a long night.

-x-

No one ever views a high-tension elevator ride as a descent. Why would they? After all, the person closer to the top literally has the higher ground. However, the grimacing visage of the lone individual riding down towards another's room tells another story entirely, one that unveils just how little control they have over the situation.

The stop is sudden, shattering their reverie. A chime pierces the silence. The doors part, revealing a mockery of a red carpet and an empty vase before them. The figure exits, walking as slowly as they can bear. They reach an intersection and avoid the right choice. They walk towards the door in question. A single step. Then another. A third. A fourth. A fifth. A stop. A turn. A sigh.

An extended arm. An icy feeling. Cold metal. Another turn. Another sigh. An unlocked door. As expected.

The handle twists and the door swings open, revealing the dimly lit interior. What little light fills the shrouded space is amplified by the faint scent of rose. One sense is clear. Anticipation. The other is crystal. The sharp laughter of its inhabitant. Taunting. Beckoning. The lone figure allows the door to slam. They walk forward, braving the abyss.

-x-

The absurdity of the whole fucking situation hits you as you hear the hinges creak, ripping a cackle from deep within as you lay atop the bed. The door slams, and the soft sound of footsteps lasts only but a moment before emerging from the hallway is none other than the guest of honor, Song Yuqi. You capture her eyes and brace yourself for the heat, but the stare that meets yours is anything but. Her bloodshot gaze struggles to find your eyes as her eyelids fight an increasingly losing battle against the pull of gravity. Even as her sagging shoulders straighten slightly at the sight of you, it’s impossible to miss the lack of grace she normally displays. “Long nights?”

“And longer days,” she responds, clearly fighting back a yawn even as she paints on an insipid smirk.

“I know the feeling all too well,” you say, hints of sympathy beginning to seep through into your speech. “Come, share a drink with me. Maybe it’ll help ease your mind.”

Your words seem to inspire a slight awakening in her as she looks around and truly witnesses your handiwork for the first time. In your hand, a glass, with an identical twin on the bedside table alongside a bottle of your favorite wine. Scattered all around the room sit petals of rose, carefully arranged and lying so patiently as they paint a picture of your intended mood. You expected her to be here. You can only wonder if she ever believed differently.

“I could, but that isn’t why I’m here,” she says, sashaying across the room and leaning in close. “Besides,” she continues, overtly tipping your wine glass, allowing its contents to paint your shirt a dark burgundy. “We really need to do something about those dirty dirty clothes.”

You refuse to break eye contact, but your muscles tense at the chill running down your chest and staining your skin. Your hand shifts in a wordless challenge—one she’s all too willing to partake in—tipping the glass back towards her and causing a free flow once more. Admittedly, the effect of the sanguine liquid isn’t as dramatic flowing down the silk of her black dress as it is on your white shirt, but the view of her cleavage coated in crimson sends your heart rate into the stratosphere.

“We really do.” Your words barely have to travel as you stand and close what little distance remains between you two, casting the wineglass aside as you pull her into a passionate kiss. Her whole body melts into yours as your tongues clash, both of you fighting for superiority even now as you slowly push her back. You can feel the force of her heart, frenetically beating against her ribcage like a drum even as you both stumble and crash towards the bathroom. Once within, you push open the shower door, haphazardly turning the handle somewhere near the top as the deluge drenches you both. The sudden cold is a shock to both of you, earning simultaneous gasps as you watch the water coat her flowing golden hair before descending upon the midnight silk of her dress.

As the temperature rises, so too does the heat. Her soaked attire begins to cling to the curves of her body, and you're more than happy to do the same. Your hands grip and grasp at her breasts once again, savoring how perfectly they seem to fit against your palms. Hers find your hair, tugging insistently and intertwining pleasure and pain in the way only she seems to have perfected.

“Ffuuucckk.” The groan she elicits from you slips past your lips and behind hers almost instantly, sending shockwaves that resonate into the kiss neither of you has allowed to break since the water's initial shock. You barely have to wait before your moans are mirrored as she murmurs back, “God, the way you—fuck—how can you …”

The most minute of mercies is all you're willing to offer as you detach from her lips, instead tracing a perfect mirror of the path you'd taken sometime between a couple days and a lifetime ago: starting right behind her ear before nibbling on her earlobe, the lightest of kisses on her cheek and along her jawline, past the reminders of your indecencies, then finally all the way down the throbbing vein of her neck.

“I need to be inside of you,” you say, searching for her eyes and finding them somewhere amidst the storm.

“Right fucking now.” She finishes the sentence for you, nodding in agreement and gripping the hem of her dress as you tear off your belt.

Some part of you deep within sends a prayer of gratitude to the shower’s architect as you utilize the vast expanse of its luxurious interior to slam her into one of the drier walls outside the direct flow of the water. Her once-slumped shoulders heave from a lack of air and anything but a lack of anticipation, eyes wide and wild as they invite you to approach. You're all too eager to accept, planting one hand on her shoulder as the other reaches past your waist and finally frees your cock from the confines of your clothing. After blindly pulling her well-drenched panties to the side, you look her in the eyes once again—make sure that she knows the precipice you stand atop and that she's willing to jump with you. With the smallest of nods and not even a hint of hesitation, she steps up to the edge alongside you. Together, you take the plunge.

Immediately, the friction overwhelms your senses as you push into her, earning echoing moans from you both as you shudder at the sensation. “Fucking hell, you're incredible,” you growl, unable to silence the admission as you desperately focus your entire being into slowly progressing deeper.

“Keep fucking going,” she’s quick to growl back. “Don't you dare fucking stop until you're fully buried inside of me.”

"Of course, princess,” you manage to say even as you struggle to breathe. “Your wish is my command.”

"Fuck you, stop calling me that," she hisses through gritted teeth. "If you wanted a princess so bad, you should have invited Miyeon."

"But darling," you declare, drama dripping off your words. "I thought you wanted me to stay away from your friends? Or is it different now, now that I've got you exactly where you want you? Do you want them here to watch as you whimper and writhe under my touch, wetter than the ocean yet begging for more?"

“I fucking hate—” You cut her loathing short as you bury yourself to the hilt, ripping another round of moans from you both. Even as the heat between you two and in the nearby pipes rises, you can't help but revel in it, savoring the taste of your victory. You give her no chance to conclude her thought as you up the intensity, slamming your hips into hers at an ever-ascending rate.

While one hand remains bound to her breast, the other finds a home tangled in the soaked strands of her hair. Intentionally or otherwise, your hold on her tightens as the vice grip of her cunt further suffocates your shaft, granting you both the friction you've been desperately craving. The water quickly becomes the second biggest drowning hazard as waves of pleasure threaten to overwhelm you both—pushing you to the edge of ecstasy and tempting you to tip over it. “Holy fuck,” she sobs, voice strangled, scratchy, and nearly silent beneath the downpour. “You—you—”

This time, you're kind enough to allow her to attempt to continue, but her verbal communication skills fail her entirely. On the other hand, her body seems all too willing to tell you the whole story and a bit more. She's absolutely gushing around your cock as she clings onto you with more than just hands, seemingly unwilling to crest the climax without you in lock-step behind her. Unfortunately, the universe seems even less willing to cater to her requests than you are, sending her careening off the clifftop without even a morsel of remorse. The spectacle is sensational, leaving you so close to finishing alongside her, but you’re anything but done here.

It takes a herculean effort, but you manage to pull out of her, causing her eyes to shoot open for the first time in forever as she stares daggers into your soul. Your view is incredible: you see her makeup, running and ruined as her tears fall alongside the shower's flow down her face. As much as you'd like to suffer under the scrutiny of her stunned stare forever, you have a better idea. You toy with her slight frame once more, flipping her around with ease as you push her face first against the shower's glass wall. Within seconds, you're back inside her, thrusting like a madman as cries of ecstasy escape her once more.

“You like that?” you taunt, mind racing a mile a minute as your thoughts try to keep pace with your thrusts. “Like the preview of what's to come?”

“What … the fuck … are you talking about?” she gasps between broken breaths.

"Oh, you couldn't possibly have thought that this would be the end, did you?” you ask, expecting anything but an answer as she looks over her shoulder and you watch the danger in her stare dance behind her eyes. “No no no, next I'm going to take you back out there and fuck you against the window so that anyone who looks up is met with the glorious sight of how much of a slut you are.”

Even through her streaks of tears—born of both pleasure of pain—your inciting yet inviting words are met by both defiance and delight alike. Her voice never wavers as she warns, “I fucking dare you to try it. You're just as likely to get burned as I am.”

Your eyebrow arches, intrigue clear in your expression as you comment, “I thought we agreed that we both like to play with fire.”

“Keep fanning the flames and you just might find out,” she says, the amusement in her smirk standing strong even as you continue ravaging her insides. Somewhere—hidden amid the seabed beneath the waves of pleasure rocking her body—she even finds the audacity to wink and you both find yourselves wearing a certain type of smile. The type you both wear so well; the one only worn in each other's presence.

The shower's flow and slapping of skin keeps the silence at bay as your serenade of sin shifts from semi-verbal back to solely physical. Her lower lip finds a familiar home between her teeth as you turn her to face you once more and choose to plant your own pair atop one of her swollen nipples. You're all too willing to nip, suck, and tease at the sensitive nub, elevating her moans even further until your profusion of pleasures pushes her past a fever pitch.

“Fuck me damnit,” she demands, accentuating her point with a roll of her hips that sends a spike of dopamine through every inch of your body. “Fuck me and don't you dare fucking stop until I cum all over your cock again.”

Your mind wants nothing more than to retort, but your body has higher priorities, using that precious oxygen to power your thrusts as you lead the chase towards your shared climax. It'd be a kindness to give her exactly what she wants, but for once, you're willing to indulge her desires, especially since you conveniently seem to want the same thing. So, you fight, prolonging the burn in the hopes that you can bask in the flames of her desire a little longer, long enough to let it scorch you to cinders until there’s nothing left but the ashes of your self-control.

You only have to stretch your efforts across a minute at most before you’re met with a familiar sight. Even though you've only seen them twice before, you immediately recognize the signs of her oncoming orgasm—the shaking of her shoulders and the hiccups in her throat that convey an uncannily familiar feeling. “I'm close,” you whisper as you rest your forehead against hers. “Where should—”

“Inside!” she rasps, straining to choke out every word. “Do it damn you—I want to feel you shaking as you shoot every last drop inside of me.”

“Jesus fucking christ—” Your reply comes to a sudden end as you cut your words short, knowing better than to ask for mercies she'll never give. Instead, you do your best to cling to whatever coherence remains after the damage her words dealt, desperate to experience the absolution that only the statuette of sin in your arms can offer. And offer it she shall, as it's only moments later that her orgasm overtakes her, suffocating your cock with her tightness as the pace of your thrusting is brought to a near stop. Any grievances you might have had are gone in an instant as the sight of what you do to her sends you soaring over the peak after her, twitching and thrusting until you bury your entire length as deep as she can take. Rope after rope of your cum act as the strokes of a brush as you paint her insides white, defiling her in a wholly new way that neither of you could possibly enjoy more.

Eventually, your orgasm comes to a stop, but you refuse to. Neither of you gets a moment to rest as you instead resume fucking her, sending shockwaves up her spine and down your shaft as overstimulation brings you both to the familiar convergence of pain and pleasure. Every alarm bell in your body rings in unison, begging you to grant it respite from the overwhelming sensitivity as you continue to fuck your cum into her. But just as you've always done when it comes to Yuqi, you ignore every warning sign in sight as you keep thrusting, continuing your assault long after she's burst through her breaking point once more. Her third orgasm hits harder than the previous two combined, forcing you to keep her upright as you give her everything she's ever asked for and more.

Her shaking form eventually stills and you finally yield, granting her the most miniscule of mercies by withdrawing your cock from her. She immediately slides down the glass of the wall, collapsing onto the floor as you try to steady yourself and stay standing. In your efforts to do so, your hand finds the shower's handle and you cease its flow, allowing the echoes of your extended recoveries to resonate throughout the space.

Black spots cloud the edges of your vision as your muscles ache in the best kind of way. A minute later, when your sight finally returns in full, you're met by the picturesque sight of Song Yuqi—one of K-Pop's brightest rising stars—burnt out and panting at your feet as she too tries to come to terms with what just occurred. After another minute, you finally bring your breathing under control, but she's the first to find her voice.

“You … holy fuck,” she whimpers, gaze still hazy as she searches for yours.

“Yeah,” you say, eternally grateful for the eloquence gained through years of writing experience. “I've never …”

“Yeah?” she asks, rubbing her eyes and finally lifting the fog. “Never what?”

“Any of it—hell, all of it—nothing's ever come close to what just happened,” you admit, offering her a helping hand she’s more than willing to take. “Don't you dare lie to me and say you're any different.”

“No, never,” she tells you, allowing the truth to finally be out in the open.

With so little distance between you two, there’s nowhere to hide as you hold each other close, daring the other to be the first to break. There’s something in her eyes that threatens to bind or blind you—something you dare not confront. Not tonight. Maybe never. So, under the weight of her stare, you allow yourself to be the first to look away. “We should get out of these clothes before we catch something serious,” you murmur vaguely in her direction. “I’ll lay everything out to dry; you take a shower and I’ll follow suit once you’re done. That sound good?”

“Something like that.”

Her monotone delivery leaves you with nothing but questions, but you know better than to allow yourself to search her face for answers. Instead, you step outside the shower, dripping moisture all over the floor as you finally strip out of the saturated suit you’ve sported since sunrise. Once naked, you turn to her and try your best not to stare as you take her bundle of clothes before she steps back into the shower. It’s only a brief moment, yet it’s the first time you see her fully bare, leaving even the most inspired corners of your imagination looking like a child’s scrawling in comparison to the artistry that is her body. While you’re sad to see her go, you love to watch her leave—eyes glued to the slight bounce of her ass and rippling of her toned thighs as she walks out of your sight and under the water flow once more.

As she washes away the traces of your transgressions, you do your best to lay everything out to dry. You hastily unfold her balled up dress and lay it out across the bathroom sink, then make your way back out to the room and lay your own clothing across the table and chairs in the corner of the room. You can’t help but crack a hint of a smile at the rose petals still lying in wait, but your eyes truly come to a halt upon the wine entering your view. Barely even a decision is made before you’re striding across the floor, stopping only once the bottle is within reach and the cork has been yanked out once more. The glasses you’d requested are forgotten as you instead drink straight from the bottle, savoring the flavor as its contents dull your senses and wash away your inhibitions. It’s a familiar feeling and a far better friend than you’d like to admit.

You barely even have to kill time before you hear the shower cease once more, giving you your cue to reenter the bathroom and be greeted by the goddess’ mortal form once more. The simple act of her standing there is a gift to you as your perspective presents you with a view of her perfectly smooth skin acting as the backdrop to the droplets’ descent, her towel telling the stupefying story of her subtle curves as it hugs her hips in an impossibly tight embrace. Your eyes fight gravity as they yield to temptation, traveling up the tense muscles of her back and past the sharp edges of her shoulders, continuing ever upwards until they pass her long locks of brilliant blonde; continuing still, all the way until you catch a glimpse of her eyes in the mirror and how they've been observing you ogling her.

“You should hop in the shower. I still need to dry my hair,” she suggests, surprisingly sparing you the shame of having been caught staring.

“Yeah,” you say weakly, averting your eyes and walking away. The heat of the water immediately relieves your tension, allowing you a moment you refuse to use for reflection. Instead, you rush through your cleaning routine, barely registering any external stimuli as you singularly focus on your sole goal. When you shut the water off a couple minutes later, you’re met solely by silence. When you step out of the shower, you’re met by your reflection as the only other inhabitant of the bathroom. And once you’re fully dried off and step back into the bedroom, you’re met with a sight shocking enough to restart your heart. She’s there, on your bed, hair splayed out like a curtain of gold laid upon the pillow as the familiar pink and red of rose petals laid delicately atop your skin, obscuring your view of her chest and cunt.

“This won’t do …” she drawls, dissatisfaction salient in each sultry syllable as her eyes lock on to the destination of roughly all of your blood flow. “You’re not nearly hard enough for me.”

With a single, impossibly deep breath, she blows away the rose petals, revealing the obsidian lace of the lingerie she somehow dried during your shower. Without hesitation, your body begins to address the object of her anger, growing painfully hard and even more so as she curls a single finger, beckoning you over with a look that could set the Han River ablaze.

You’re all too happy to oblige. As you draw closer, you notice her freshly applied makeup: smokey eyeshadow and ruby red lips that paint a crystal-clear message in your mind. She’s not here to fuck around. She’s here to fuck you within an inch of your life.

The bed is more than large enough for two, and as you lay beside her, you amend one of your earlier observations; while her bra has remained dry, her panties are absolutely fucking soaked. You turn to her, opening your mouth and intending to ask her how she did any of this, but a single finger laid upon your lips locks them and keeps you silent. Her lithe form easily climbs atop you, straddling your hips as she leans in, giving you a fucking fantastic view of her cleavage once again as she nibbles on your earlobe.

“My fucking turn.”

With a roll of her hips, she grinds against your shaft, making your cock burn with sensation as the lace drags up and down the sensitive skin. At this angle—you beneath her as she coaxes everything she wants from you and more—you’re caught under the cruelty of her grin as the light casts shadows that accentuate rather than hide her beauty. Another roll, another realization. She’s got you cornered—physically, mentally—she might as well have a gun to your chest and yet, there’s a thrill coursing through your veins. When she captures your lips, she does so with a ravenous frenzy, teeth sinking into your lower lip and pressing until they’re dripping with the blood she craves. There’s no mistaking the fact that you’re the prey she’s been hunting. All that’s left to decide is whether or not you want to escape, and you’re leaning towards no.

"Are you scared?" she asks. It doesn't sound like a question. It sounds like a challenge.

"No," you answer truthfully, knowing full well that in the midst of this chaos—this maelstrom of ash and anticipation—fear has no place. “I can handle the heat.”

“Can you now?” Her laughter is a wicked, dancing flame that sears your senses as you witness her smile run ruthlessly red as she licks the remnants of your blood off her upper lip. “If that’s the case …” she trails off for a moment, reaching back and grasping your length with the unimaginably smooth skin of her hand. “Then don’t come crying if you end up getting burned.”

In the next breath, she takes yours away, sinking onto your shaft with a devastating aggression. Immediately, your lungs begin to tense and strain, desperately searching for air amongst the shallow gasps you sneak in between the slamming of her hips. It’s futile. When she feels like this—hot, wet, and walls wrapped around you so impossibly tightly—you’re better off attempting to offer up a prayer than trying to seize control.

Her onslaught leaves you reeling, back arching and fingers digging into the curves of her hips as you chase an even greater high. She’s relentless, unyielding, as if she refuses to allow you even the slightest opportunity to halt her momentum. Even as she gasps in exertion, it still adds to your torment, sending you tumbling ever closer to the edge of pleasure and pain alike. Her nails rake down your chest, carving molten mementos of her insatiable desire that you won’t soon forget, yet the more these sensations blend beautifully amidst this consuming chaos, the more irresistible it becomes. The way she rides you is primal, rough, yet somehow, unmistakably her. Demonic laughter echoes throughout the room as she rolls her hips ruthlessly, yet still it brazenly teases a promise of the pleasure to come.

Her body moves rhythmically against yours, riding up and down the length of your shaft at an incredible tempo as your heart rate soars ever upward. Your vision is pulled in a million different directions as every aspect of her figure demands your undivided attention—the ghosts of her fingertips as she delicately traces the lines of your abs, the faint hint of her nipples poking against the constrictive fabric of her bra, the unrestrained glee in her grin as she triumphs over the echoes of fatigue and maintains her ceaseless assault. Ultimately, your wandering eyes come to a stop at the sight of her evocative visage, long locks framing her face like a curtain, shielding the rest of the world from the harrowing beauty of this huntress whose sight searches solely for you. You can sense the wicked satisfaction in her gaze, a feral delight in seeing you under her control. Her voice is a low purr that vibrates through your core as she leans in even closer. "Scared now?”

"Never," you choke out in response, swallowing hard as her breath cascades over the sensitive skin of your neck.

She chuckles lightly, "We'll see about that."

You respond not with words, but with a tighter grip on her hips as you sense an opening and thrust up into her, disrupting her tempo with ease and issuing a silent challenge. She gasps in response, and there are hints of flushes—flashes of hunger—across those features hidden in shadow. Her satisfied smirk fades from her face, displaying instead a delirious delight that makes your pounding heart skip a beat. “Such audacity,” she murmurs, subtle signs of mirth showing in her shaking voice.

She’s quick to adapt to the new tempo, moving in perfect synchronization with your thrusts instead of attempting to seize back sole control. Somewhere along the thread that’s inexplicably tied you two together, you find harmony, allowing you to match each other’s strikes with dangerous precision. Her hands climb your body, tangling themselves in your hair and tugging harshly enough to send shivers down your spine. You cling onto her as if she’s the only thing keeping your consciousness intact, fingers digging into her hips deep enough to bruise as each stroke causes an explosion of sensation across your entire being. It’s an intricate dance of power and pleasure: intoxicating, addicting, and—just like she’s always been—impossible to resist.

Amid the rasps of fuck and you and I and oh my god and yesssssssssssssssssssssssssssss, you see a flash of inspiration in her eyes, warning you even before she acts that she’s up to no good. A groan of frustration is ripped from your chest as she slows the pace, leaving you burning with a desire for more pace, more friction, more her, but if the look of bliss on her face at the long, slow strokes is any indication, you’re likely to be left wanting. It’s even worse when she stops entirely, hand wrapping around your throat, desperate for air even as she refuses to allow you any. It gives you a second to stare, to really take in the sight of her as she studies you right back. Even like this, the “flaws” in her appearance—hair disheveled, bra crooked, panties tugged aside, makeup marred by exertion—only serve to further showcase her perfection, leaving you hungry for more. You relax your clenched fingers and grant her hips the slightest of respites as you reach behind her back and unclasp her bra, finally freeing her breasts and their stiff peaks that call your name. Her panties present a bit of a conundrum, but you’re so intoxicated by the image of her you refuse to be reasonable. You muster up your initiative as your hands slide down her sides and rip them to shreds, finally revealing her in her glorious entirety.

“Those were expensive, you know,” she spits, but the words don’t hold as much venom as they normally do.

You shrug, wrapping your hand around hers on your throat as you reply, “So was my scarf.”

And then you both get back to trying to fuck the other into an early grave.

There’s a tempest of wills clashing—her burning desire against your ceaseless refusal to relent—that elevates you both past any limits you might have believed you’d had. The size of your hand dwarfs hers, but there’s an undercurrent of understanding, even as she so clearly communicates the threat she poses. Her eyes, shrouded in shadow, catalog every twitch of your body beneath her. She releases her grip on you before pushing herself up against your chest, bracing her palms as she arches her back in the most alluringly seductive way. The freedom granted to your airflow is for naught as the sight of her leaves you without breath, thought, or any way of slowing the climax you’re suddenly hurtling towards.

“You’re so fucking hard for me,” she whispers, cruelty and craving alike coloring her countenance as she captures your eyes. “Why don’t you tell me what you need? If you ask nicely, I might even give it to you.”

“In your fucking dreams,” you fire back, a feral smirk spreading across your face as the opening notes of her melodic laughter play for you.

But her song stalls as her breath hitches, hiccups of pain and pleasure overpowering her as you feel the quakes overtake her. You wrap your arms around her back, pulling her close as her orgasm overwhelms her, coating your shaft and gushing down your thighs as she reaches the pinnacle of euphoria. Her teeth sink into your shoulder, seeking stability instead of sanguine satisfaction as her moans send vibrations across your skin, sweeping you up in the ecstasy she’s experiencing. You groan in agonizing pleasure as you meet her atop cloud nine, wincing at the magmatic flow of your white-hot cum shoots into her. In each other's arms you find incomparable pleasure, traveling together all the way from the ninth circle of hell to the seventh heaven.

You stay inside her longer than you need to, long enough for both of you to catch your breath. With a regretful groan, you pull out of her, opening up the floodgates of both of your cum to flow freely down her beautifully bruised thighs. You look to her, desperate to call for a draw, but instead you’re met with the face wearing the weight of weariness and shadowy eyes that seem to see right through you. Before she can even offer a single word, she collapses, tumbling to your side and laying her face against a pillow before going still.

-x-

After a brief confirmation of a pulse, you pull the sheets and covers over her, leaving her in silence before heading into the bathroom and cleaning yourself up. Upon your return, you’re anything but surprised to see that she’s gone, drifted off to dreamland, taken by tranquility. The sight steals your breath away, stunning you as your mind grapples with the notion that this peaceful sleeping angel inhabits the same body as the devil who rode you ‘til rapture mere minutes ago. You muster up a couple crumbs of courtesy as you quietly move through your hotel room, pulling on an old pair of jeans and a shirt you’d rather hide beneath the hoodie you instead hang on the door before sneaking out into the silence of the hallway.

You take a left, then a right, pause, then walk past the vase you’d raided earlier and choose to descend as the elevator doors close behind you. On the back wall sits a mirror and trapped within stands your reflection, staring through you as you study yourself. Your practiced posture protects the truth of the present—prevents the outside world from seeing the fatigue pervasive throughout your system. You’re shaking out of your reverie by the sound of a ding and the sliding of doors, revealing your desired floor behind you. You back out, refusing to break eye contact until the doors do the deed for you. You sigh, turn, shake your head, then trek forwards towards your destination. Ahead—beneath a wooden slab stained with stories—sits a suite of stools, empty and for the taking. You mount one and offer a small nod to the bartender, who seems surprised by your presence, though not your appearance.

“Long night?” he asks, grabbing a glass and setting it atop a coaster as he finds the answer in your eyes long before you vocalize it.

“I mean, yeah,” you chuckle, running your finger around the rim of the glass. “In all the best ways. Surprise me.”

His eyebrow rises as he catches the glass you slide back to him, pondering for a moment before turning and scouring the shelves. “Oh yeah? Then how come you’re here, especially now? Don’t get many visitors this late after hours.”

“There’s, uh …” you pause, considering how much honesty you want to offer before resigning yourself to sharing it in full. “There’s a girl in my hotel room. You can guess what we did there, but she’s asleep now and I don’t want to be there when she wakes up.”

“That’s a new one,” he responds, hints of a surprised smile spreading across his face as he slides back the glass, now containing a connoisseur’s drink of choice. “Though I’ll admit that still doesn’t tell me why you’re here.”

“Thanks,” you say, picking up the cup and swirling the liquid around, allowing the aroma to saturate your senses as the dark liquid sloshes around and splashes the frozen orb within. “Honestly, I’m hoping that with a little time, I might just find it at the bottom of this glass.”

“Then happy hunting, friend. Let me know if I can get you anything else,” he offers before turning to resume his cleaning.

“Will do,” you reply, raising your drink in thanks as the snug solace of silence settles over the space. A sip, a thought. Another, for naught. Try as you might, you can’t seem to wrap your head around why you feel the way you do. Theoretically, this “should” be the perfect justification for you to rip her next promotion to absolute shreds. You “should” be foaming at the mouth at this opportunity, the chance for you to give her what she deserves. This is the stuff of dreams, right? It “should” be.

You “should” be a lot of things. Conscience-stricken should not be one of them. Yet here you are. Regretful. Hesitant. Weak. Everything you shouldn’t be. Everything you hated being. Everything you swore you’d never be again.

And somehow, Song fucking Yuqi has the power to bring all of that out of you.

You’ve spent a lot of time thinking about this. About her. More than you’d like to admit, yet likely not as much as you should. But it’s only here, in this drunken stupor amidst the forgotten hours of the night, that you finally take the time to truly reflect on your relationship thus far. You’re one of many who’s watched her shine brightest under the spotlight’s glow, but one of few who’s seen who she is in the dark. You’re aware of the disdain lurking behind every easy smile she gives, yet the taste of her cherry lipstick is more familiar than your morning coffee. You’ve heard all the honeyed lies she whispers so freely, but no one else knows how sweet she sounds when screaming your name. You might be the only one who knows she’s a nightmare masquerading as a dream, but you’re undeniably unsure whether it’s one you want to wake up from. So many thoughts, but not even a hint of the truth you’re hunting for.

But then, somewhere in the haze, you finally find the missing piece: it’s the hypocrisy of it all that drives you mad. It's the fact that she gets to have her cake and eat it too; the fact that she gets to grow her fame without growing as a person. It's the fact that you had to get your first editor—your friend—fired because he was limiting your creative freedom. It’s the fact that her group can undergo a massive scandal and have it all swept under the rug in less than six months’ time. It's the fact that you've had to abandon the unknown groups with the most compelling stories because they're not the ones who generate views. It's the fact that you've had to budget for the price of your ambition while she can max out her social credit without a second thought.

Worst of all, it’s the fact that you’re stuck wide awake in the lost hours of the day with nothing but her on your mind while she sleeps serenely in a suite paid for by the fruits of your labor. You've long since come to terms with the fact that she's living rent-free in your head; now you're just disputing her claim to the master bedroom and both parking spots. The possibility that you might be living in your worst nightmare—that you might have become an afterthought—fills you with an icy foreboding that even a thousand scalding showers couldn’t thaw. And there’s still nothing you can do about it.

If you’re being honest, there might never be.

You slam back the rest of your drink, desperate to display a degree of decisiveness wherever possible. You’re gentler when you set it back on the coaster, but there’s still enough force to cause the bartender to turn.

“So, did you find what you were looking for?” he asks, looking down at the glass before meeting your eyes once again.

“Can’t say I did,” you chuckle darkly, pausing for a moment before sliding it back to him. “But it couldn’t hurt to check again.”

Continued in Act Three …

(I’d like to express my appreciation to @capslocked for both their direct and indirect contributions to this fic. They’ve been the biggest catalyst for my growth as a writer the past couple months and I can’t thank them enough for their time and patience. Once you’re done with this fic, please do yourself a favor and go read “Starlet” if you’re in the mood for more Miyeon & Yuqi content. Once you’re done with that, please do me a favor and bully them into writing Part 2, tyvm!)

#kpop smut #kpop fanfic #kpop fanfiction #yuqi smut #yuqi fanfic #idol x reader #idol x male reader #gidle yuqi #gidle #yuqi #song yuqi #slow burn #gidle miyeon #miyeon

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authorhjk1 · 7 months

Text

Interlude: Lonely

IU X Miyeon X Male Reader

You have walked past her table a couple of times already. It's not unusual to drink while having dinner, she is an adult after all. But the amount she is consuming starts to concern you. One bottle of soju after another finds its place on her table.

When you walk past her once again, to greet someone whom you haven't talked to yet, you decide to sit down. In that moment, someone else enters your restaurant. You stand there for a moment, wondering what's going on.

Her black dress is slightly gleaming in the light. It's quite short and her rather big boots compliment it well. She isn't wearing a necklace. Only a couple pearl rings and a handbag. Her black hair completes that dark look she has going on.

When your eyes meet, you remember you are in a public place. There is no official reason for the both of you to know each other. And yet Choi Miyeon has that look on her face already. That look that tells you what she wants you to do to her tonight.

Distracted, you don't realize that you have been standing next to the other idol, whom you were concerned about earlier.

"Why are you standing here? I didn't order anything."

Her drunk voice sounds kinda cute, although her outfit isn't. She is going for the same look as the vixen, who just sat down at a table nearby. Dark and sexy.

Her eyes are only half open as she stares at you.

"You know what? Bring me another bottle?"

She points with her finger at you, but it sways slightly and it looks like she wants to hypnotize you.

"Ms Lee. Why don't you go back to your hotel?"

You ask in a polite tone, but she waves you off.

"No no no. My room is empty. I don't want to be empty."

She scoffs before downing another glass of soju.

You weren't prepared for drunk talk tonight, but she is still your customer. When she appeared a few hours ago, you were surprised, but then you remember the brand, which you buy your soju from.

Lee Ji-eun, aka IU, decided to check out your restaurant, when she heard of its opening.

"Ms Lee. Can you tell me where your manager is?"

If you can't get her home, he probably can.

"Don't call me that."

She furrows her brows as she leans her head on her forearms, which are resting on the table. Her chef for her table left a while ago, so the two of you are alone.

"Just Ji. Or IU. I'm alone anyways."

She murmurs into the sleeves of her jacket.

"Fine. IU then. It's late already, don't you want to have some sleep? I'm sure you are tired."

"No no no."

She raises her hand and waves to decline your idea.

"My bed is empty. I don't want to."

"It's empty since you aren't in it."

"I'm empty."

You sigh as you rub your face. The whole day has been hectic and stressful.

"How about I bring you home?"

IU focuses on you, at least she is trying to, and eyes you suspiciously.

"You-You wanna play?"

You raise your eyebrow.

"What?"

"You wanna play?"

She giggles before trying to one shot another glass. Most of the clear liquid falls onto the table, some stains her top.

"What kind of game?"

IU shakes her head, which obviously makes her feel dizzy afterwards.

"You don't know. No no no."

You sigh, before asking the inevitable.

"What don't I know?"

"What-What we play. I never have someone to play."

"Don't you have friends?"

You feel like you are talking to a twelve year old who just took some painkillers.

"They don't play with me."

She mumbles on and pouts cutely as she slightly lifts her head.

"They only play with each other. Or with guys."

The last part was definitely filled with bitterness and annoyance.

"Guys don't want to play with me either. Why not?"

She looks at you, her eyes still barely open.

"Why don't boys play with me?"

You are starting to realize what she is saying. And you also realize where this is heading.

"Am I not cute?"

She pushes the empty green bottles away from her and you realize IU is recreating one of her commercials. At least she is trying to.

You do have to say so that drunk IU isn't as cute as her sober counterpart.

"Or am I not sexy enough?"

It takes her a moment to focus on you and open her eyes completely. But when she does, she looks stunning.

The Korean singer is older than you. Quite a few years actually. You weren't really into older women before, but IU? You can see why guys would be tempted.

"You are one gorgeous woman."

You smile at her, hoping this will lift her mood.

"Then why don't you do it?"

She gives you a groggy smile and sways that finger of hers again.

"Why don't you play with me?"

"You are drunk, IU."

She shakes her head.

"No no no. Not drunk. T-Tipsy."

She nods as if she is trying to convince herself.

"Yes, yes. Tipsy."

You lean back in your seat, trying to come up with a plan to get this woman in a bed. It doesn't have to be yours, but if she would be to sober up on the way, you wouldn't be complaining.

"Excuse me, sir."

You close your eyes in disbelief as you recognize the voice. Turning around, you see Miyeon standing behind you.

"May I talk to you for a moment? It's-"

You can see her struggling to come up with some excuse. Luckily, almost all of the media is already gone.

"It's about the cucumbers."

She looks surprised at herself at that idiotic comment. One might think that she is hammered too.

You glare at her, but she eventually convinces you with her suggestive glance towards your crotch. Cucumbers my ass.

About to stand up, you see IU lift her head, which dropped back onto her arms a couple of moments ago.

"You."

She looks at Miyeon.

"He wants to play with me. Why are you taking him?"

Miyeon ignores her and drags you a couple of steps away.

You don't know how Miyeon did it. But you find yourself walking down the sidewalk, IU holding onto your arm. She is less drunk already. The pill that Miyeon gave her, some water and the cool Paris night seem to sober her up.

"I apologize for making you bring me to my hotel."

You shake your head as you look down the empty street.

"It is closing time soon, anyways."

"Thank you, though."

She squeezes your arm gently.

"What did you mean earlier?"

IU looks at you with worry.

"What did I say?"

"You said you are lonely."

"Ah."

She nods as the two of you keep walking.

"I am. I sometimes have the feeling that no one is interested in me."

You stay silent as she keeps talking.

"I can never really have a boyfriend. Or girlfriend."

She whispered that last word, but you managed to hear it.

"It must be hard since you are a celebrity. But I'm sure you will find someone you love eventually."

To your surprise, IU shakes her head.

"That's not what I want right now."

She looks up into your eyes.

"Oh."

You look away and keep walking in silence.

"I just want to-"

She looks around the empty street, before getting on her tiptoes.

"-get fucked."

She stares at you once more.

You are about to say something, having Miyeon's plan still in the back of your head, but the Korean actress looks away.

"I'm jealous of all the girl groups, you know? They maybe don't have boyfriends, but at least each other."

She sighs and you realize she isn't completely sober yet.

"Imagine if you were in a nine member group. All of their hands on your body."

Her voice sounds dreamy and you stay quiet, but not because you are polite.

"Their fingers on your skin. All of them taking turns kissing you..."

She trails off and looks into the night.

You curse silently, glancing at your pants.

As if she has done this a million times, IU lets her hand slide down your arm and locks her fingers with yours.

"As much as I love younger girls eating me out, I love younger guys fucking my brains out more."

The two of you come to halt and you can't say a word. Until now, she was as subtle as possible. Now she is just saying out loud what she is thinking.

"Do you know how long it has been since I sucked cock?"

She takes a step closer, her eyes partially covered by her bangs.

"I would give anything for a nice dick in my pussy right now."

As soon as the elevator doors close, IU pulls your head down. She captures your lips with hers and you can still taste some of the soju she drank earlier.

As the taste and her scent start to take over your senses, you realize she smells like strawberries. Her lips, which have a similar color, are soft and sweet as you invade her mouth with your tongue.

Your make out session is interrupted when the doors open again, but IU takes your hand and drags you after her. She almost runs to her room, before she uses the key card to open the door.

As she is about to step inside, you pin her against the doorframe. You feel her bite your lip as you push your tongue inside her mouth once more. Holding her hands in yours, you take the key card and let it fall to the ground, right outside the room.

The two of you stumble towards her bed as you kick the door shut behind you. Afraid you are gonna hurt her, you make sure she is on top as the two of you hit the sheets. IU is lying on top of you, her bangs slightly tickling your forehead as she keeps her lips on yours.

As you stroke her hair, you feel her hands running down your body with one particular goal. Making quick work of your belt, she doesn't stop kissing you. Your own hands run down her naked lower back and hold onto her butt, locking her in place.

"Let me go."

She smiles into the kiss as she tuggs at the waistband of your boxers.

"I can do more with these lips than kissing."

You let her cheeks go and you feel her glide down your body. Raising your hips, you see IU taking off your pants.

"This was worth the wait."

Her eyes sparkle with satisfaction as she sees your cock. She reaches out with both hands, before she starts to stroke you. One at the bottom, one at the top. You feel yourself harden immediately at her work. She does seem skilled, although she said she doesn't have much sex.

Opening her mouth, IU lets some spit fall off her tongue and onto your tip. She spreads it around your tip with her thumb.

"This looks delicious."

She gives you a big smile, before she leans down. Her upper hand is replaced by her warm mouth. Slowly, her lips glide along the length of your shaft.

You reach out to hold her hair as IU gives you one of the best blowjobs you ever had. Her skillful tongue does not miss a spot as she lets it roam all over your cock. Her lips are sealed tight around you, making her cheeks hollow. While her right hand is still holding the base of your cock, the left one is sliding upwards, underneath your shirt.

IU can feel your abs with her hand as she keeps taking your cock into her mouth. You almost think that she doesn't have a gag reflex at all. Your tip reaches the back of her throat. The black haired woman takes it with ease as she has almost all of your cock in her mouth.

Once she reaches your base with her lips, she does choke slightly. She looks up, before moving her head in a circular motion, which makes you groan. Your cock still deep inside her throat.

"Fuck, you are good."

IU slowly moves her head upwards, letting your dick out of her mouth.

"This is nothing."

She gives you a naughty smile.

"I could suck you off with my eyes closed."

"Is that so?"

She winks at you and resumes her blowjob. You have to close your eyes momentarily as she works wonders on your cock. A few moments later, you are able to untie your blue tie. Reaching forward, you place it on her eyes, before tying it at the back of her head.

"What is this?"

IU chuckles.

"You said you could do this with your eyes closed."

You glance at the door as you see it open quietly.

"You bet. As long as I have a cock in my throat, I don't care if I can see or not."

The woman who just entered the room bites her lip at the older woman's comment.

Afraid that IU would catch on, you guide her head back towards your dick. When her lips touch your tip, a smile plays around them, before she obediently opens her mouth. As your cock glides into her mouth, you see Miyeon staring.

As if she forgot what she is here for. You point with your free hand towards her small sports bag she brought with her, which snaps Miyeon out of her trance.

She puts it down quietly, but all that can be heard in this room right now are IU's sucking sounds.

The younger woman opens her bag quickly, taking out a long, black object.

Unbeknownst to IU, Miyeon hooks her thumbs underneath the straps of her dress, before letting it fall to the ground. That she isn't wearing a bra was obvious before, but you can now see that she isn't wearing underwear either.

While IU still works on your cock, you watch Miyeon idly playing with her clit. She rubs it with two of her fingers as she watches the two of you.

"Miyeon!"

You mouth in her direction.

It takes her a couple of moments to tear her eyes away from your cock, which is currently resting inside IU's throat.

She winks at you, before reaching for the black object and something else inside the bag. When she said she brought some toys, you just shrugged it off. But it looks like Miyeon has a whole arsenal with her.

You watch her putting on the black strap on, while holding a bottle of lube.

"You are so quiet. Did you pass out already?"

IU chuckles at your attempt to keep quiet.

"You would need to work harder for that."

"Fine."

She sticks her tongue out mockingly, before letting more spit drop out of her mouth.

"Let's see who passes out first."

She wraps her lips around your cock once again.

As IU deep throats your dick, Miyeon is slowly walking towards the bed. She already opened the small glassy bottle in her hand. She is slowly stroking the long strap on with her slick hand. If you saw it correctly, the lower part of her toy is resting inside her own pussy, around four inches, while the rest is for her to use on her sunbae. It's around your own length, but yours is slightly bigger.

IU is still chocking on your cock. It looks like she is determined to make you pass out, or at least make you cum. Either way, she keeps you down her throat, not letting an inch miss any attention.

You have to hold onto a fistful of her dark hair, while your left hand is grabbing the sheets. IU is not joking around when it comes to blowjobs.

You watch Miyeon as she is now standing right behind the bed. In one swift motion she reaches forward and takes a hold of the older girl's pants' waistband.

"What?"

IU's surprised yelp is muffled by your cock down her throat. You force her head in place. Miyeon starts to take off her pants. IU struggles against the two of you.

"Stay put."

You force her lips to reach your base once more.

"You said you want attention."

Once IU has calmed down, Miyeon finally manages to rid her off her pants.

"Wow, unnie. Your pussy looks so pretty."

She purrs, before getting onto the bed herself.

You see IU relaxing as she realizes that the other girl is someone she knows. She just doesn't know who it is yet. In her blindfolded state, she is forced to only react to both of your touches. Miyeon holds onto her waist, making her rise her butt. She is now in this "demon pose" position. You can see the shape of her plump ass behind her head from your point of view.

"Fuck. Your body."

You see IU smile around your cock.

It's quickly replaced by a moan as you watch Miyeon spit on her hand, before reaching between the older girl's legs.

A couple of moans and seconds later, you can already see Miyeon aligning her strap on with IU's snatch.

You are kinda jealous, especially after Miyeon's comment.

The older girl's mouth forms an O shape as she gets penetrated by the plastic strap on. Your wet cock falls out of her mouth.

"Holy fuck."

"Do you like this, unnie?"

"I love it."

IU sighs as she holds onto the base of your dick once more. She guides your tip towards her mouth. Pushing her head down, you watch IU getting two of her wholes stuffed with cock. Although you can't see it, you can tell that her eyes are closed in bliss.

Miyeon moves her hips back and forth, letting the strap on slide in and out of IU's cunt. With every thrust forward, the older girl gets pushed forward, which forces your cock deeper down her throat.

Your head rests against the hotel room wall as you try to keep your composure. Even with a dildo in her pussy, IU is still sucking the life out of you. Her mouth trying it's best to make you cum. Your hand in her hair tugs at it occasionally, making her stop for just a moment. There are plenty of moments, where you think you are about to cum. But luckily, you manage to make her stop just at the right time.

"Your cock is so big now."

IU's words are interrupted by another one of her moans.

"I know you are going to cum."

She uses your tip to smear all your pre cum over her lips.

"Just give it to me already."

She takes you into her mouth again. Determined to make you cum now.

Looking behind her, you watch Miyeon slowly fucking IU from behind. Her own eyes are closed, the other end of the strap on obviously pleasuring her more than she would like to admit. Her hips roll back and forth, letting the plastic move in and out of IU's snatch.

"Come on, baby. Cum in my mouth."

The older girl makes you focus on her again. You have to hold onto her head with both hands, due to the pleasure she is sending through your system. You didn't plan on cuming so fast. But here you are.

As IU deep throats your cock, you hold her in place with both hands. Her lips almost reaching the end of your cock. You feel her gagging slightly. The muscles of her throat tighten around you. The slight shoves from Miyeon make her move around you. She humms slightly, when Miyeon hits the right spot.

"I'm gonna cum."

You groan as you feel IU's hands wander towards your abs once more. She isn't leaving room for her hands on your cock anyway.

Her gags become louder. As Miyeon gives her a big thrust from behind, you finally cum down IU's throat. You push her head further down as you feel her moan. Ropes of your cum coat her throat and mouth from the inside.

It takes you a couple of moments to recover from IU's blowjob. You just lie on the bed, enjoying the view of her getting softly pounded by Miyeon. You realize that she still doesn't know, who is fucking her.

The same thought runs through Ji-eun's head at the same time. She was surprised at first, to say the least. And although the strap on doesn't compare to a real cock, it's still a nice feeling to get filled in two holes at the same time. As you are now recovering, your cock resting in her hands, Ji-eun tries to guess who is fucking her. It's hard, since she sometimes loses her train of thought, whenever the girl behind her is hitting the right spot. She called her unnie, right? It can't be Yoo In-Na then, since she is older. Plus, she would have recognized her voice.

Lee Ahin maybe? But she would have called her "sunbaenim" respectfully. But it still could be her. Ji-eun remembers, that she was jealous the way Ahin looked at you occasionally from across the room.

You see Miyeon bite her lip, as a moan escapes her mouth. You never expected to be in this situation. And you never expected Miyeon to come up with this idea.

Watching her pleasuring herself and IU with her strap on makes your cock hard again. The older girl's hands aren't very innocent either though.

As she realizes that you are ready for round two, IU takes you into her mouth once more. You are still a little more sensitive than usual. You groan as she does her best to make your cock as hard as possible. Her body still being rocked back and forth by Miyeon.

"Daddy, you should try this pussy."

Miyeon sighs, her half opened eyes focused on you.

"I think this unnie is hungry for your cock in her little cunt."

The way IU moans at the younger girl's comment makes you slowly guide her head off your cock.

Her eyes are still covered, which means she still can't see what you are doing. You get off the bed and walk over to Miyeon. Capturing her lips with yours, you make the younger girl come to halt. The two of you enjoy each other's mouths.

Glancing downwards, you have a good view on IU's pussy. It's visibly stretched out by Miyeon's black dildo. Her lower lips are tightly wrapped around it. You can see some of her slick juices running down her inner thighs as she is still in the same position as before. You reach out to knead her left ass cheek.

"What are you waiting for? Give it to me."

She moans as she looks over her shoulder, eyes still covered by your tie.

You push against the left side of her hips, which makes her fall on her back on the bed. Miyeon left her pussy just a second earlier and now you are standing between her legs.

You admire IU's beautiful pussy. Her pink, plump lips glisten slightly. Her clit is slightly visible and her skin around it is as smooth as the rest of her body.

Unable to resist, you lean down to have a taste. You taste some of her juices as you lick her pussy lips.

"Oh, fuck."

IU moans. She expected your cock, not your tongue.

Standing straight again, you hold her waist with both hand. Nodding towards the bottle of lube, you instruct Miyeon to use it. A mischievous smile appears on her face. While she opens it and pours some of the liquid onto the strap on, you pick IU up. She instinctively wraps her legs around you, still not having a clue about what's about to happen. Her arms are reaching around your neck and her face is right in front of yours. You move a little, so that Miyeon can stand behind her.

You place your hand on one of her firm butt cheeks, while the other reaches for your cock. Slowly, you insert yourself into her pussy.

"Oh god."

IU sighs as your tip enters her. Since she is way smaller than you, you have to slide her up and down on your cock. Now holding both of her cheeks in your hand, you slowly lower her further.

With every inch, IU's mouth opens wider. When she finally reaches your base, a loud moan escapes her mouth.

"Fuck you are so big."

Her walls are tight around you. Looking down, you see one of the most beautiful things you have ever seen. IU's pink lips molding around your cock, keeping it in her snatch.

Her head drops back as you make her lean away from you by pulling her ass towards you. She is now on the perfect night for Miyeon. The younger girl runs her fingers over IU's waist, before aligning her strap on with her hole.

Once the wet plastic touches her rear entrance, IU knows what's going on.

"Oh fuck! I have never dones this before."

You can tell she is squeezing her eyes shut as Miyeon starts to push inside of her. You feel her strap on press against your cock through the thin wall of IU's body. With every inch, the older woman breaths heavier, until she is completely filled.

Her black hair covers Miyeon's face as she is just hanging there between the two of you. She is completely defenseless. IU can't do anything but moan as you start to lift her up.

She has never felt so full. Both of her holes are stuffed with cock as she slides upwards. Since Miyeon is shorter than you, you have to stop lifting IU when you reach your own tip, otherwise the strap on would slide out. And whenever you push IU down, she can only take a third of Miyeon's dildo inside of her.

Despite these little flaws, the older girl still feels like she is in heaven. All of her muscles relax except the ones in her pussy and ass. Over and over you slowly lift her up and pull her down. After just a couple of moments, the Korean actress has become a stuttering mess.

"Oh! Fu-! Yes! Please more!"

Her back is now completely arched, her head resting on Miyeon's shoulder. Because IU is still wearing that black top, you can only dive into her neck. You kiss her skin as you make her moan in tandem with your moves.

After having found a rhythm that works for all of you, you start to go a little faster. The effect it has on IU is evident as her moans turn louder and her hands on your back hold you tighter. You hear Miyeon moan occasionally as well, whenever IU is pushed onto her strap on. It pushes it a little further into her own pussy everytime, giving her pleasure as well.

The older woman has now lost her ability to form words. Her moans are deep and drawn out. Her pussy feels incredible tight, partially because of Miyeon's strap on in her ass, which slightly pushes against your cock.

You hear IU whine as she starts to cum. Her body tenses up a little as she feels a flame burn through her body. It has been building up since Miyeon pulled her pants off. Now, she is cuming on your cock, her juices dribbling down onto the carpet.

You hiss as you feel IU's pussy contracting around you. The way she feels pushed you closer as well. You are able to hold out, until she calms down, but you know that you might not survive another orgasm of hers.

You keep your rhythm nonetheless, making IU moan loudly once more. Her eyes are still covered as she sees nothing but darkness. After that orgasm, the flame in her body doesn't die down. Instead, it keeps building again. The darkness is replaced by bright colors. You are quite literally making her see stars as you make IU cum for a second time.

She whines once more, too lust drunk to speak. At the same time, Miyeon moans. You guess it's not really about the stimulation for her, but the act itself. A small orgasm rushes through the younger girl's body, making her knees buckle.

Seeing the two of them cum, makes you want to do the same. For a second you wonder if you want to trade holes with Miyeon, but IU's pussy is something you can't pass up on. There is no way in hell you pull out, until you cum.

Up until now, the two of you fucked her with a rather slow, steady pace. Fast enough to make her cum, but still not with your usual force. You can feel the lust building up inside of you.

Miyeon looks like that as well, although she probably has something else in mind. Although the dildo inside of her makes her feel good, it's hard for her to cum. The two of you exchange glances, before you come to a silent agreement.

You lift IU up one last time, higher than before. It makes Miyeon's strap on slide out of her ass, while your tip still remains inside of her. You see your cock is slick with her juices. The younger girl hurries to unbuckle the belt of her strap on, before letting it fall to the ground. She jumps onto the bed, her hand already near snatch as she is ready to watch the end of the show.

Ji-eun is still wondering what's going on as she obviously feels Miyeon's strap on leave her ass. You kiss her neck once more as she is too tired to complain about the lack of fullness.

Your arms start to get tired, so you place her on the wooden dresser, which is standing near the bed. Her back is pressed against the cold wall as you push fully inside of her once more.

"Right there."

She sighs as you hit a new spot in this position. Looking behind you, you see Miyeon is already knuckle deep in her own pussy, eyes only half open. She decided that it's more pleasurable for her if she doesn't have to move so much. The fucking tiring her out.

Knowing that IU can't look at Miyeon, since you are blocking the view, you pull down your tie. It hangs loosely around her neck as you see her eyes after a long time. Her lust makes her look like she is angry. Her brown eyes focused on you as her upper lip slightly twitches.

"Now fuck me hard."

She demands, not even bothering to try and find out, who fucked her ass.

You bottom out inside of her as you start to pound her onto the wall.

"Faster!"

She has become more vocal, now that she can see. Maybe she was a little shy earlier, but now, she is enjoying herself too much to care.

"Fuck yes! Make the whole hotel hear!"

She moans loudly as you keep your pace. The dresser doesn't seem very safe. It starts to rock back and forth with your thrusts, hitting the wall occasionally. It creaks as you fuck IU on its smooth surface.

"Make them know that I'm getting pounded hard! Make them touch themselves!"

You fuck her faster, almost scared she is going to hit the wall with her head. Now that she can see, IU keeps her eyes on yours, capturing your gaze.

"I'm gonna cum."

It's hard to bring that sentence over your lips, but you can't stop it. It's like IU's pussy was made for only one purpose. To make you cum.

"Yeah! Give it to me!"

She moans louder, holding onto the shirt you are still wearing.

"Cum all over my pussy! Paint me with your cum!"

Holding onto her waist, you pull IU further onto your cock with every thrust. You hear Miyeon in the background, moaning and whining as she cums on her finger. The dresser sounds like it's going to collapse any minute as you fuck one of the most beautiful women on earth on its surface.

IU's face is close to yours and her lips find yours. The two of you kiss, without slowing down your pace.

Pulling back one last time, you thrust into IU as you feel yourself cuming. You regretfully leave her tight pussy. But she told you where she wants it.

As you climax, your cum starts to paint her pussy. It coats her puffy lips and her clit, some drops hitting her flat midriff.

"Fuck yes."

IU sighs as she feels your warm cum on her pussy. It slowly dribbles down along her lips and onto the wooden surface underneath her.

You capture IU's pink lips with your own as that strawberry taste invades your taste buds once more. Out of the corner of your eye, you see that Miyeon is already putting her dress back on.

IU will never know, who of her juniors made her ever feel so full. And loved.

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(Alternative Ending)

Hi, everyone!

I hope you guys enjoyed this one. From now on, I will try to occasionally mix in these shorter interludes. This way, I can write smaller chapters, which I get expired by in random situations, or you can request scenarios, which aren't exactly compatible with the story. I will try my best to somehow fit them into the story, for example as a dream. These short chapters aren't really relevant for the plot, which means you can read them without the story, or if you don't like the idols, you can just skip them.

Have a great day!

#kpop #kpop smut #kpop girls #kpop gg #male reader #gidle miyeon #miyeon #IU #lee jieun

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