#jihyo fluff

jihyo rubs her eyes, “it was phone call after phone call. then constant meetings, some of the departments don’t have annual reports ready, which only sets us back even further. i have deadlines i’m not even sure i’ll meet in time.”

you walk over to the couch, taking space next to her. “well, you’re home now, none of that is going anywhere. just take the next few days to do nothing.”

jihyo tilts her head at you, “i can’t y/n- i promised sunghoon we would take him to that new playground that we drove by a few weeks ago”

you shake your head, cutting her off, “don’t worry about it. my mom picked him up earlier, said she wanted to take him down to the beach this weekend, which he did not say no to.” you laugh softly.

she nods in response, “you need to relax, jihyo” you say quietly, reaching over placing your hands and her shoulders.

you begin to rub them slightly, working your fingers into her shoulder and neck, when jihyo moans in response.

she rolls her head to the side as you continue, you apply more pressure. and you physically feel the tension that’s been building up in her shoulders.

you push your thumbs back down the center of jihyo’s shoulder, “y/n…” her voice is breathy and full of satisfaction. you take your hands and bring them up her neck, quickly, pull the hair tie that’s holding her bun. letting it fall to the ground, you slid your hands into her hair, your nails scratching her scalp gently, jihyo leans into your touch.

you reach down pressing a kiss to jihyo’s ear, pulling away after.

“come here” you hear her say, before you know it you're sitting on her lap, kissing her softly. your hands make their way to the front of jihyo’s blouse and begin to unbutton it.

in between kisses, you pulled the shirt free from being tucked into her pants. then you undo her belt buckle, her pants get unbuttoned and unzipped.

when you both pull away, jihyo speaks up “y/n, i love this and i love you, but i am so tired-”

you shake your head, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear, “it’s okay, i know, just let me take care of you, okay?”

jihyo raises an eyebrow before nodding, muttering a small “okay”

your palm cups her cheek, “wait here” you say softly.

you press a kiss softly to her lips, and quickly make your way to your bathroom. reaching the tub, you turn the knobs, waiting the water to reach just the right temperature before putting the stopper in. you looked in the cabinet underneath the sink, searching through the different products that sit there.

in the corner, you grab a dark blue bottle, it’s one that jihyo uses rarely, labeled “for relax and relief.” you pump the bottle a few times into the bathtub.

you watch the tub fill up slowly, some bubbles rising, the smell of the bottle filling the bathroom. you wait until the water reaches the appropriate height before shutting it off.

you return to the living room to find jihyo reclining against the back of the catch, her hand running through her hair.

you walk in front of her, reaching your hand out towards her. jihyo grabs your fingers softly, “come, i made you a bath”

her hand squeezes yours slightly, “a bath?” she replies

“yes, come on, before it gets cold.” jihyo lifts herself off the couch, allowing you to pull her to the bathroom. you reach your bathroom in seconds, “take your clothes off” you whisper to jihyo, turning around, you quickly grab some candles that you have as well, lighting them to avoid using the bright lights.

you hear water splashing slightly, turning off the main lights, you turn back to jihyo, who’s sitting in the tub and smiling softly at you.

“join me?” she asks, you begin to shake your head, “please y/n” she says again, softer.

you begin to take your clothes off, feeling your wife’s appreciative gaze on you. stepping into the warm bath, settling behind jihyo.

you’re leaning against the back of the tub and jihyo’s in between your legs, her back resting against your chest.

“relax,” you say quietly. you grab jihyo’s loofah, and dip it into the water. you apply some lavender scented body wash onto it, and then begin to gently rub it on the back of her shoulders in circles.

she sighs deeply, as you continue to her shoulders and then down to her chest. she relaxes in your embrace, allowing herself to be scrubbed clean.

you run the loofah over her stomach, sides, and as far as you could to his hips. you nudge jihyo to lean slightly forward so that you’re able to scrub her back.

you place the loofah back on the ledge of the bathtub, cupping your hands with some water, you start to wash away the soap. your hands following the similar path as before. jihyo was practically melting into you. her breathing was soft, yet deep. it was an indication for you to continue what you were doing.

your hands made their way over to jihyo’s chest again, one hand cupping her breast, the other running your thumb over her nipple.

“y/n” she whimpers, turning her head and pushing her nose along your jawline. your hands remain on her breasts, cupping and squeezing them, teasing her hardened nipples. jihyo’s breathing increases, but she doesn’t move, she keeps her head rested on your shoulder.

your hands move slowly to her back and rinse away any remaining soap. your hands linger neat her shoulders, you see the muscles laced with tension that’s been building. you apply pressure to the area, your hands in a constant motion of up and down. and you also can’t help but smile as jihyo inhales out of pleasure when you rub the right spot.

you kiss her wet shoulder softly, “my wife needs to learn to relax”

jihyo leans back into your chest, her eyes are shut now, “maybe my wife can help me?”

your hands make their way around her waist, your fingers tracing her soft skin. and your hands make their way up her breasts, cupping them.

you feel jihyo’s gaze and when you make eye contact, she reaches out and places a kiss on your lips.

you exhale into the feeling, as she turns her body slightly to make the position more comfortable. your fingers wander to her nipples, circling around it as jihyo deepens the kiss.

you break the kiss, and she leans back, pressing deeper into you, you watch as she spreads her legs slightly.

“y/n…” she says, softly. you place a kiss on her shoulder, then to her neck.

your right hand makes its way back down to her stomach, then between her thighs. your left hand remains on her breast.

jihyo throws her head back and lets out a moan. she grabs the edge of the bathtub to steady herself as you keep giving more and more.

you tease her already hardened nipples with your thumb, your hand had reached her clit, drawing circles around there too. when she starts to raise her hips into your hand, your fingers are inside of her.

jihyo tilts her head to the side, “y/n” her breath hitches. her legs begin to tremble as you continue to move your fingers, she lets out more moans, the water from the tub splashing everywhere.

you watch her face as she reaches her climax, then you turn her head and place a quick, yet sloppy kiss on her lips. when you pull apart, you let her fall back into relaxation, her hands no longer gripping the edge of the bathtub. you wait until her breath evens out again.

you tuck her damp hair behind her ear, “let me get you a towel.” jihyo nods in response, leaning up, you get out and get a towel for jihyo and yourself.

when you return, jihyo kisses you softly, before taking the towel and wrapping it around her figure, “thank you, y/n” she whispers, a relaxed smile on her face.

you return the kiss, watching as jihyo makes her way into your shared closet.

you dry yourself rather quickly, wrapping it around your body, you blow out the candle and remove the plug from the bathtub.

you enter your closet as well, picking whatever shirt and shorts are there for you to sleep in.

after getting dressed, you walk into your bedroom to find jihyo laying on the bed.

“i thought you were right behind me” she says, you’re at the edge of the bed, and you get on, crawling your way up her body. pausing to kiss her thigh, her hand, and finally her lips. “god i love you” jihyo smiles into your lips when you begin to pull away.

you giggle at her comment, and you lay right next to jihyo, wrapping your leg around her, her hand finding itself resting on your thigh. “do you at least feel more relaxed?”

“mhm” she says in response. you simply tighten your arm around her.

and when it’s silent, “i thought about giving you a massage too” you say.

"hey, sorry I'm late!"

as she slips into the seat ahead of you, any complaint dies on your tongue. she's breathtaking - park jihyo always is. her hair is swooped into a simple half up, half down style, and she still has remnants of her stage makeup for the night. a glossy shine to her lips, mascara and eyeshadow against her tired eyes that still sparkled for you. her clothing was simple and that's all it had to be, hugging her figure right while still keeping her comfortable.

softly, you whispered. "...'s all good, no worries. i'm glad you made it."

her nose crinkled with a soft smile, as she glanced down at the menu ahead of her. "Italian food?" she spoke with a slight lilt to her tone. her English had subtly been improving while she was on tour. "what'd you get?"

"I haven't ordered yet," comes your response, though it's half distracted as you continue to stare in awe of her. "..."

jihyo glances up at your slight silence, a warm color blossoming instantly on her cheeks. god - it was gorgeous on her complexion. why was she so damn beautiful?

"what? I have something on my face?"

"no, no," you chuckled faintly. "you just-... you look gorgeous tonight."

her head dips in that shy way it always did when receiving a compliment, hair slightly moving and making the sequence all the more appealing. softly, her gaze flicked back to you, and then away again. "...thank you, jagi."

"you're welcome. have they been trying new makeup on you guys?"

another soft nod on her end. "yes, different artists."

"ah," your turn to nod. "you should keep this one."

she ducks again, slightly hiding behind her menu. it's endearing and attractive all at once, and you nip your bottom lip - eyes falling to your own menu which you raise up to peek through. a comfortable silence drifts between the two of you, and in it you find yourself looking back to her again. tracing the subtle curve of her jaw. the way her eyes flit across the menu. the small flush still lingering on her cheeks, some traveling up her neck. god- her neck. the one that led to that sharp jawline...

you clear your throat, setting your menu down. "I think i'm ready to order, you?"

jihyo smiles - slightly gummy as she flashes her pretty teeth.

damn, is everything pretty about her?

"mhm, ready."

-

a small shiver as she pressed against you.

jihyo still wasn't quite used to the chill of the states, so you did your best to keep her warm. a hand around the waist pressing her body perfectly into yours, a small kiss dropped on her head here and there. she was shorter than you, the perfect height in your eyes.

for being such a powerful leader, she was so damn small.

curling into you. her hand smaller than yours and clutching softly at the back of your jacket. the wind swept her hair slightly and she was gorgeous all again, looking around a world she'd never really known.

"you're beautiful," you reiterate again, tracing your thumb along her waist. "...really, you're beautiful.."

jihyo flushes all at once again, pressing her face to your chest as you come to a stop. softly, she looks up at you. "why saying all this? all these... compliments?"

"because you ought to know," you chuckle, tracing her cheek softly wth your free hand. "and I also missed you."

with jihyo being an idol and you living in the states, it was hard to see each other - but you made it work. you were only a few months into your relationship, and when you'd gotten together the poor woman was fumbling over words and stressing about the gap between the two of you (distance, language and age) - and now she stood pressed against you like a tiny kitten, looking up at you with those big, round, trusting eyes, clutching onto you like at any moment the wind might blow you away.

and still - she looked completely and utterly beautiful. you didn't even know how you managed to land someone sculpted so perfectly. easing down, your lips brushed hers - she shivers on the spot, pressing up and connecting the two of you. she was never much for PDA, but somehow you were always an exception for everything. she'd never been with a woman, but here she was. never had a big age gap, but here she was. never imagined herself so happy with a foreigner... and here she was, feeling waves of euphoria through her body.

pulling back, she thumbed your jacket. "will you come to hotel..?"

and reluctantly, you nod.

-

"m-mph.."

and your most beautiful sight of all.

the side of jihyo's face was pressed against the pillows, a heavy flush on her cheeks, neck, and joints as you held on of her hands behind her back, the other loosely holding the headboard. her back was entirely empty, a warm tan highlighting it's arch all the way to the curve of her ass - and you held on softly to one hip, driving the strap-on in and out of her softly.

she groaned, weakling clutching the headboard at the feeling of being stretched - of having you pushing adamantly in and out of her. she loved these moments, becoming yours entirely, feeling the tip of the faux cock brush her cervix with each shallow thrust.

and you always took your time.

leaning and dotting kisses along her neck and the expanse of that golden back.

rubbing and gripping her hips.

"feeling good, baby?"

god - and checking up on her.

she whimpered, nodding. "s-so good..mh..jagi..."

her little moans were so shy and cute, English heavily accented when she was aroused. she'd be all dominant on stage, just to crumble in your sheets like a puppy, whining and begging for more.

jihyo's hand weakly slipped down from the headboard, clutching at the sheets as she slightly clenched around you, signalling her impending orgasm. nothing this, you tugged out and flipped her on her tummy, easing back in and leaning down to connect her in a kiss as your cock slid in and out of her - a soft bulge in her tummy. she groaned into the kiss, arms loosely wrapping around your neck.

your hips pumped nice and slow against her, and when she broke the kiss to whine, you attacked her neck in soft kisses - no visible marks so the make up artists didn't have to struggle as much.

"..'m close," whimpered the brunette, hair spread out like a halo. "a-ah..please, jagi.."

"shh," you whispered, leaning up and diving your hips back and forth. "you can cum, baby, you can..come on.."

another soft whine. her body tenses, and you bite your lip at the sight, slamming in a final time and watching her fall apart - body tensing all the way and trembling through her orgasm. your hips stutter, easing in and out of her tighter cunt, gently tugging out after a bit and tossing the strap-on aside.

then you lean, peppering kisses across her panting face. "good girl...good girl, you did so well.."

"mmh.."

always so damn gorgeous for you.

especially when she falls apart.

Jihyo doesn’t miss dates because she doesn’t care.

She misses them because she cares too much about not letting everything fall apart.

Her company is always one deal away from either being worth billions or being torn apart by people who smile too nicely. She holds an empire together with handshakes, boardrooms, and eyes that never get enough sleep.

And then there’s you.

The one person who doesn’t want anything from her.

Which somehow makes you the hardest thing to keep.

You and Jihyo had planned dinner.

Nothing fancy.

Just a restaurant you like.

A tiny window seat.

Maybe walking home together after.

She promised she’d be there.

Again.

So you sit at the table anyway.

The restaurant plays soft music. Candlelight flickers. Other couples laugh gently around you.

You check your phone.

6:07 PM

No messages.

6:15 PM

Still nothing.

You don’t look angry.

Just tired.

By 6:32 PM, your phone lights up.

Jihyo: Baby girl, I’m so sorry

Another bubble appears.

Jihyo: They pulled me into another meeting

The typing stops.

Then starts again.

Jihyo: I don’t think I can make it :(

You stare at the screen longer than you should.

Y/N: It’s okay :)

It always is.

The smiley face is a lie, but not a spiteful one. More automatic. The kind you send when you don’t want someone to feel guilty.

You sit there another 5 minutes.

Then you pay.

Then you go home.

Jihyo comes in long after midnight.

She’s tired in a way sleep won’t fix.

Her blazer is still on. Her heels are in her hand instead of on her feet. Her hair is looser than it was this morning. Her eyes soften the second she sees you on the couch.

“You’re still awake,” she murmurs.

You shrug.

She steps closer uncertainly, like she’s afraid she forfeited the right to be near you.

“I tried to leave,” she tells you quietly. “But the investors wouldn’t stop talking and then the board called and—”

“I know,” you say gently.

She searches your face.

Not for anger.

For permission.

“I ordered something for you,” she blurts.

You blink. “What?”

“You’ll see tomorrow,” she says quickly. “From Milan.”

You laugh despite yourself. “Jihyo…”

Her shoulders relax — just a little — at the sound of her name like that.

“I just…” She rubs the back of her neck. “I wanted to make it up to you.”

“You don’t have to buy me things every time you’re busy,” you tell her softly.

She freezes.

“What?”

You stand and cross the distance between you. Take her hand into both of yours.

“I don’t need apologies with price tags,” you whisper. “I just need you.”

For a second she looks lost.

Completely lost.

Feelings are easier when they’re shaped like boxes.

When they come wrapped in silk with receipts inside.

When you can quantify care in designer labels and delivery times.

But this?

This is just you.

Standing there.

Asking for her.

And Jihyo has never been good with things she can’t control.

The next morning, 2 assistants knock on your door.

With garment bags.

And boxes.

And a phone call from Jihyo.

“Did they get there?” she asks anxiously.

“Yes,” you laugh a little. “Half of Paris did.”

“Open them,” she urges. “Please.”

Inside is a dress so beautiful your breath catches.

Perfect lines.

Soft fabric.

Luxury written into every stitch.

“I thought maybe you’d wear it the next time we go out,” she says, hesitant. “Since I ruined the first one.”

You close your eyes.

This is exactly the problem.

It keeps happening.

Next time you miss brunch — shoes arrive.

Next time you eat alone — flowers.

Next time she cancels movie night — a bag, a scarf, jewelry.

It’s like her guilt translates only into gifts.

And one day, weeks later — It finally cracks.

You come home to a small velvet box waiting on your pillow.

A necklace.

Simple.

Elegant.

Quietly expensive.

There’s a note: For being patient with me when I don’t deserve it.

That night, she comes home late again.

Drops her keys.

Loosens her tie.

And freezes when she sees you sitting at the edge of the bed.

Not smiling.

Not angry.

Just steady.

She knows something’s wrong immediately.

“Did you not like it?” she asks.

You don’t answer.

You stand instead.

And walk right up to her.

Jihyo braces herself like she expects a fight.

You unclip the necklace.

Place it gently in her palm.

“I don’t want another apology in gold,” you tell her quietly.

Her brow furrows.

“What…?”

“I don’t want Milan,” you continue. “I don’t want Paris. I don’t want presents every time you disappear.”

Her heart drops.

“I just want you to come home,” you whisper.

“Even late, tired, quiet. I just want you.”

Her hand tightens around the necklace.

You’ve never seen her this uncertain before.

The woman who owns conference rooms.

The woman who never breaks eye contact.

Now staring at you like she doesn’t know how to move.

“I don’t know how to love you correctly,” she admits at last.

Soft.

Bare.

Unedited.

“I was never taught how to stay,” she says. “Only how to provide.”

Your throat tightens.

You step closer.

“Then learn,” you whisper.

She exhales shakily.

For the first time, she doesn’t reach for her phone.

Doesn’t offer money.

She pulls you into her arms.

Clumsily.

Tightly.

Like she doesn’t trust the world not to steal you when she’s not looking.

And for once.

She doesn’t buy you anything.

it’s been weeks since you accepted the case. weeks since you’ve started living off mediocre coffee from the coffee machine in the lounge room of the law firm. weeks since you've been cooped up in your office, your coworkers checking in from time to time. and weeks since you’ve found out that your petitioner’s lawyer is park jihyo. stone-cold face, confident aura, and stern eyes, one of the best-known lawyers in south korea at one of the most sought-after law firms in the country, TDOONG.

tension has always sparked between your law firm, TTT, and hers. they both didn’t have the best lawyers for nothing, living up to their missions and values.

you knew jihyo since the start of your law path. going to the same law school, having similar classes together, to graduating the same year (a year earlier than your peers), you two became the youngest lawyers in south korea, exemplary of young, passionate scholars.

you've never really crossed paths to be known as friends, rather distant acquaintances. it wasn't often you had competition, though you wouldn't even call it that. time to time, it was nice to get a rile out of jihyo here and there, the girl too hyper-focused and serious for her own good, that you were constantly left wondering if she has humor in her at all.

you'd also have to honestly admit, park jihyo was is a stunner. her gentle look, yet sharp features, from cheekbones to jawline, one couldn't help but stare and gawk if they were to walk past the park jihyo. posture always straight, muscles taut and defined in ways that greek sculptures were envious (you knew because you saw her at the university's gym almost every day, and no, you didn't lift, opting for something less intimidating, pilates).

and now, as you both are in rival firms, it's easier to get a reaction out of her, no matter how composed she is.

the case you picked up on isn’t anything gruesome; it was more conflicting, heartfelt, and personal…especially personal. it revolves around two parents going through the process of divorce, each is likely to get 50/50 custody of their eight-year-old daughter, hyejoo. but here is where the facts get ugly: the mother got a job offer to vancouver, canada, wanting to take her daughter with her, but the father, an elementary school teacher who is deeply rooted in his community, also wants his daughter to stay back.

it brings back memories of you being in a similar situation as a six-year-old girl holding your father’s hand as your mother steps her foot through the threshold of the door, not even daring to look back. the line she had crossed had created a vast distance between two worlds, one where you’ll never get to be in.

but she chose to leave. whereas hyejoo's mother wants to take her daughter with her.

it stung, to this day. you remembered blaming yourself over it, that you were the reason it all happened in the first place. then you started to get angry. why would your mother leave? why did she choose to leave?

it created a hollow hole in your heart, one where it took years to mend and uphold itself. you were left alone on days when mothers were suppose to come to their children’s classroom. left alone when you gave a speech about your mother in front of the class, but she was already on the other side of the world — as if you were playing the game of telephone, waiting for her reply.

nonetheless, here you are, rereading the case for the umpteenth time. your eyes bore through the thick documents of backgrounds, financial stability, and health. it didn’t help that you were on your eighth cup of coffee in the last hour, being the last one to leave your firm.

tomorrow was the first hearing, and for the first time, you felt nervous to the core. seeing that you won’t be able to focus anymore in your office, you made the decision to pack up and go back to your apartment. perhaps the different setting will allow you to focus more.

having already skipped lunch, skipping dinner would do you no good, especially when you need energy for the next day. you sighed, a big headache was already creeping its way though the crevices as you drove to a nearby convenience store.

upon pushing the door into the store, you falter for a quick second, seeing a rather familiar woman turning to leave.

“park,” you nod in acknowledgement.

the woman’s eyes scan up from her phone, gaze as always, piercing and sharp.

“l/n. a pleasure meeting you here.” jihyo nods back at you before walking past you to leave.

“let’s not act as if we’re strangers, jihyo. our confinement in court will not allow such.”

your comment makes jihyo turn around, a small scowl forming on her face. “let’s worry about our own side, hm?”

and gone she was before you could push out a reply. your headache is now pounding against the walls of your head, seeking for breakage.

—

the atmosphere being tense would be an understatement. the air was suffocating, people shifting around in their seats, the chairs creaking every once in a while. there were more people here than usual; it was a rare occurrence to see TDOONG’s and TTT’s lawyers in the same room. rivalry felt more like bloodshed than just mere competition over who’s better.

your client sits next to you, his right leg shaking with anxiety, hands folded in his lap, with his thumb rubbing over each other for comfort. his ring finger, although without the ring, still had a tan line, a faint indentation still visible from years of wearing it. the mark serves as a reminder of what was, what is, and what never will be.

across from you, jihyo was dressed in a black tailored suit, hair tied back with not one loose strand in sight. she looked polished from head to toe, standing at the opposing table as if she were born there.

after the initial swearing in of the jury and announcement: jihyo for the petitioner, you for the respondent, the trial began.

jihyo steps forward.

"your honor. my client, kim sejoo, has received a phenomenal job offer in vancouver, canada, with pay twice higher than what she is making now. the relocation with her daughter will substantially allow her to take care of herself and her child. educational opportunities for kim hyejoo will not be scarce, as well as long-term financial stability. my client proposes summer and holiday breaks of hyejoo at her father's."

professional. efficient. straight-to-the-point. jihyo's gaze shifts between her client and yours, but never at you directly.

the judge nods his head towards you.

"your honor. the child is young and still in elementary school. my client, kim daeseok, has worked at the school for years. their relationship is a close father-and-daughter bond; not something occasional, but daily. relocation would be devastating, not only for the father, but for hyejoo as well."

jihyo's voice remains steady, calm, as she counters, "with respect, geography is not the only factor that determines stability. the mother is not seeking to cut off contact. she is seeking to improve her child's future." finally looking over at you, her eyes pierce through, unwavering.

"by removing her from everything she knows? stability isn't only financial. children do not measure love in salary brackets."

you saw her hand twitch slightly on the pen she was holding. the movement was so small that one could've missed it, but not you.

jackpot.

"it serves her future," voice cool, hitting all the surfaces of the room, "broader opportunities. her mother would do much better than struggling here."

you lean forward slightly. "and what about hyejoo's present? the school she loves? the peers she'd made? the atmosphere, the culture, and the community she's grown up in?"

even from a distance, you can see jihyo's jaw tightening, but her voice continues to stay even as she responds, "children adapt."

tension can be felt trying to push through the barriers that it's been bound in, where it's been building up, overflowing; a dam ready for its collapse.

absurd, you thought. your mind flashes back to the little girl crying her eyes out, not truly understanding the situation she was placed in. spending time with her dad on mother's day, presenting a poem for mothers when hers wasn't even in the crowd, drawing pictures of just her and her dad, the place where her mother was supposed to be — used to be —was left blank. the negative space taking up so much of the space, the whiteness so blinding, she felt compelled to add something just to stop the brightness. in the end, she just left it blank, just like how her mother chose to leave her.

children don't adapt.

"children endure." a clean cut. no sharpening tools were needed to be present to know how sharp and precise the cut was.

the dam broke, water rushing uncontrollably, and it's taking you with it.

the judge calls for a brief recess.

—

you let out a loud exhale as you make your way to the vending machine, desperately needing something to calm the strong currents in your mind. as you bend down to reach for the drink, you hear heels taking swift steps, louder as they get nearer. before getting the chance to look over, you hear her voice.

"you argued like sejoo is abandoning her daughter." arms rested at her sides, but you can tell she's fighting the urge to cross them.

"no hi, hello, how are you? i thought better of you, park." you huff out. jihyo doesn't answer you. rather, she stands, waiting for you to reply to her prior statement. what a stubborn woman. she isn't as easy to get a pick at as she used to. you realized that now, she had changed, too.

you sigh, fingers coming up to pinch the bridge of your nose. "look, i see where you and your client are coming from, but you've got to understand about my client's circumstances, too. he loves hyejoo just as much as sejoo loves her. but he's trying to stay, while she's ready to scoop up her daughter to the other side of the world...it's not fair. calls do not replace presence."

jihyo stares at you, arms giving up on its side, now crossing, fingers tapping impatiently.

"you take these personally, l/n?"

you stare back at her, just as intently.

"only when they matter."

she watches you a second longer than needed before glancing at her watch and turning back towards the courtroom.

—

people shuffle back in, anticipation at the tip, ready to pierce the iceberg.

the back and forth continues, both of you waiting for the other to break.

from the corner of your eyes, you can see daeseok's hands trembling, fingers lightly scratching at the line on his ring finger, his teeth gnawing his lower lip, picking at the dry skin.

"my client simply refuses to become a visitor in his daughter's life."

the refute comes in just as easily, "and my client refuses to stagnate because her ex-husband is comfortable."

you can see jihyo taking a small breath in before proceeding, "your honor, we ask that the court preserve the status quo pending a full evidentiary hearing."

silence hits the room once again. arrangements of papers can be heard from the judge shuffling through them. he looks over his glasses before clearing his throat,

"the court will maintain the current 50/50 arrangement. the child shall not be removed from the jurisdiction until further hearings. mediation is ordered. an evidentiary hearing will be set for december 3rd."

the gavel strikes down, deafening. you peer over at jihyo, who happens to look right back at you, once again, with that stern look on her face.

—

you gather yourself up from your side of the table, piling up folders of documents and notes. briefly discussing the next steps, you shook hands with your client before he had to excuse himself for a school meeting.

loosening your tie and unbuttoning your blazer, your eyes can't help but wander to jihyo's side. she's still talking to her client, one of her hands placed on the mother's shoulder, most likely offering comfort.

you could tell: jihyo was here to win, to conquer, to live up to the name that TDOONG holds itself. and nothing was going to stop that.

finally averting your gaze, you swiftly pack up the rest of your materials into your briefcase and put on your coat. the air is lighter outside than in the courtroom, as if you finally emerged from the water that was drowning you earlier.

taking out your phone from your pocket, you turned off do not disturb for the time being, checking the notifications you've missed. you absentmindedly scroll through the work emails, huffing out a small laugh at the work group chat — one of your coworkers, sana, accidentally sent a message to the wrong group, and mina reprimanding her in the process saying how it is unprofessional (though, it doesn't really matter since you're all great colleagues and friends outside of work, anyway. mina's just doing it for the sake of a reminder, just in case this happens in a professional setting, but not of malice otherwise).

however, after getting through most of it, your thumb hovers over a specific notification, or rather, a chain of notifications in your messages. multiple text messages from an unknown number were sent:

unknown number:

hey, y/n.

unknown number:

it's mom.

i know you have many questions on why i'm reaching out to you or how i know your number.

unknown number:

i am back in seoul for a little while. if you could give me a chance of your time, even just for a little bit, i would love to have a chat with you over coffee.

let me know.

you dropped your phone in disbelief. what the hell? a time zone difference, a stretch of vast oceans, an abstract concept, a blank space on white paper. a mere memory hard to forget. your turmoil starts to build up. god, you desperately need a break.

before even having time to compose yourself and pick up your phone, ready to reread those messages, hoping your eyes are not deceiving you from having your head in piles of papers for so long, you hear the same clack of heels right behind you.

a slight whiff of the cinnamon citrus perfume has you knowing that it is no other than park jihyo.

you don't realize you've stopped breathing until —

"l/n." you close your eyes for a brief second, emotions overexhausted as your throat feels like it's constricting itself.

breathe. breathe. breathe.

exhaling shakily, you bend down to pick up your phone from the ground and turn around to face jihyo.

jihyo stands a few steps behind you, still looking as pristine as when you first saw her in the courtroom. though now, you can see the faint lines of eye bags under the light. she looks much softer than before, her shoulders slightly drooping and more relaxed, tired.

"you forgot this." in her hand was your pen, a specialized one with your name engraved on it, a gift from mina for your two-year anniversary at the law firm.

reaching out to grab it, you try your best to keep your hand from shaking, "thank you. i owe you one." however, from the light furrow of her brows, you knew she saw.

"are you alright?"

"i'm fine," you answer a bit too fast, making jihyo inhale sharply, "you know, just the seoul weather creeping up. it's a bit chillier than i expected," you lightly force out a laugh.

her eyes roam around your faces, not intimately nor deeply, but enough to have you shrink back, suddenly feeling vulnerable under the lampposts adorning the front of the courthouse.

"will this affect mediation?" of course, it's not park jihyo if it doesn't involve work.

"no, it will not," your jaw tightens involuntarily. you realized she saw through it all.

" i'd appreciate a copy of any supplemental affidavits you intend to file prior to mediation," she continues, eyes narrowing, "everyone's time is wasted on ambush tactics."

you scoff lightly, "you don't give me enough credit, park. i prefer winning cleanly."

another notification comes through in the midst of it all. lifting your phone to get a preview, the light cutting through:

unknown number:

i know i hurt you. you can ignore this if you wish to.

your vision blurs for a second, your ears start to ring, until you realize you can't break down right now, especially not in front of jihyo.

"l/n," her voice comes through, gentler this time, "you're shaking."

you hadn't noticed. too busy focusing on too many things at once.

straightening up immediately, slipping your phone in your coat pocket.

"it's nothing. i'm fine."

"that wasn't a question."

"jihyo-" irritation starts creeping up. your defensive instinct kicks in, "you don't need to interrogate me outside of the courtroom, too. what happened to worrying about our own side?"

"i don't want you to bring whatever this is into mediation. i have eyes, i'm not blind. i can tell this case is draining you..." she pauses for a quick second, "...personally. i need you present and clear, y/n."

you realized now that you weren't attacking her client or protecting yours. rather, you've been protecting a version of yourself that you've long hidden away, suppressed.

your gaze softens. her voice grounded you as the breeze picked up, blowing her hair lightly, and for once, she was not only polished but infuriatingly beautiful.

"finally calling me by my first name, park?"

if it wasn't for the light shining down directly on her face, you would've missed the slight blush creeping up on her cheeks.

you giggle as she tries to blubber out an answer, finally seeing a side you've rarely seen her adorning in: relaxed, calm, and lost for words. confidence wavering, fingers gripping her coat sleeves, a total 180 from when you both were in the courtroom.

saving her from further embarrassment, you ask, "coffee? for bringing my pen to me. and no, not coffee here, perhaps a cafe."

her eyes widen in surprise, looking at her watch on her wrist before looking back at you, "yeah, coffee sounds good," exhaling softly.

"not bad, park. i'd thought you'd decline," smiling satisfactorily, you walk off. without glancing back, you continued over your shoulder, "i'll text you the address. i'm sure you still have my contacts saved, yeah?"

"n-no, i do not!" hearing jihyo walk the opposite direction to her car answers your question, making you laugh out loud.

you can’t fix something that was never broken, just something that stopped existing.

that's right. your mother stopped existing in your world. and the only way to keep it whole is to leave it that way.

—

the evidentiary hearing happened a few weeks later. park jihyo as calculated as ever. firm. steadfast, and charming. her questions were concise and succinct, with not one falter in sight.

however, at one point near the closing of the hearing, jihyo saw it. your emotions were piling up from their existence, like a volcano—a rendezvous leading to unmitigated friction, collision, and then an eruption.

the ruling of the verdict came two weeks later.

the judge began, "the court finds that both parents have demonstrated deep commitment to the child," a pause, "however, the court concludes that the relocation request is made in good faith and offers significant financial opportunity after reviewing the evidence presented."

you inhaled, already knew what was coming next.

"the petition to relocate is granted."

from your peripheral, you can feel the father exhaling raggedly next to you. across, you see visibly see the mother's shoulders relaxing in relief.

the judge proceeded with the order, outlining extended summer visitation rights for the father, alternating holiday arrangements — travel expenses to be shared, and daily video contact between the child and the father.

once the hearing ended, you shook hands with your client and arranged a time for further information on moving forward with the relocation.

upon packing up, you sense her presence before you could even look up,

"you argued well, l/n."

"likewise, park." making eye contact with her, you can see that she was deep in thought.

"coffee? my treat this time."

you smile, nodding your head.

you've come to terms that park jihyo is not just a stubborn woman, but also free, bold, and a bit mischievous.

—

you also learn that yes, park jihyo is in fact humorous, way more than you expected. your conversations flow easily, from work, to family, to your own past.

too easily that irregular coffee ask becomes weekly, to soon becoming dinners.

until now, barely getting used to the darkness of jihyo's flat, before you find yourself pushed against the front door by toned arms, hungry lips finding yours like a tsunami, rushing and pushing. her lips start descending down to your neck — biting, sucking, licking, soothing — while her fingers start unbuttoning your work blazer, then your work blouse.

"fuck—! j-jihyo! not there, i— got a case in t-two days."

"you have a beautiful woman on you right now, who's about to give you the best orgasm of your life, and you're worried about some damn case right now?" jihyo growls. the noise sends a shock down your spine straight to your core, ruining your panties.

you hated losing, especially when it comes to jihyo.

"i'm going to give you the best orgasm of your life." jihyo whimpers at your voice, her mouth gravitates back towards your neck as if it's meant to be there. "let me. you did win the case between us after all. treat it as an award from me to you, yea?"

you both shuffle into the bedroom, a trail of clothes left behind like a quiet confession in its wake.

jihyo lands first on the bed with you between her legs, her elbows holding her up, one of her hands coming up to comb her hair back.

"show me what you got, l/n," licking her lips afterwards.

saying nothing, you dive in for a kiss — wet and dirty — teeth clashing, tongues exploring all the ridges and linings.

jihyo lets out a loud gasp when her bra gets discarded easily, the cool air hitting her chest instantly. your hands start grabbing and pinching each nipple. moving your head down to her neck, you start nipping, biting down harshly at one of her pulse points, eliciting a loud whine.

"you're already so sensitive, and all i've done is touch you."

"s-shut up!"

you take one of her nipples in your mouth, while one of your hands occupies the other, index and thumb pinching, pulling, and rolling, the other faintly scratching her abs. you enjoy all the noises that come out of jihyo, knowing you're the only one who can make her like this.

leaning back with an audible pop, you smirk down at jihyo: unprofessional, messy, disheveled, and incredibly wet, if the dark, wet patch on her underwear is anything to go by.

finally going towards where she wants you, you take the hem of her panties between your teeth and pull downwards, all while she stares right back at you, eyes half-lidded, chest heaving heavily.

successfully removing the last piece of clothing, you can't help but stare, mouth watering at the sight.

"s-stop staring-" her voice cuts off with a sharp inhale. your right hand trails lightly from her knee to her inner thigh, to finally touch her cunt, index and middle fingers lazily sliding up and down, mesmerized by the sight.

"and stop t-teasing—fuck!" a loud whine rips through as you push in a finger without warning. her folds enveloping you easily, as if she were a mold made perfectly for you.

"you're so fucking loud and whiny, hyo. you don't want to wake up your neighbors now, do you?" your finger slowly roams around, exploring, rubbing, feeling the bumps and ridges.

"f-fuck you!"

you laugh lowly, "i am, pretty. fucking you, i mean," you add another finger, hearing another loud moan, her eyes glued shut, hands pulling the sheets tightly towards her. you take your time, pulling your fingers out slowly before pushing them back in quickly, the squelching sound embarrassingly echoes. a particular hard thrust right at the spot makes her wail.

"tsk, do you want everyone to hear how improper you are? just. so. improper. and. tight." each word punctuated with a thrust. your free hand goes to her clit, thumb rubbing circles carelessly, earning another moan that you happily drown in.

"all for me right, hyo?" fingers pushing deep and up towards that one spot repeatedly, having already know what makes park jihyo break.

"mm," jihyo tries, "a-all, shit—all for you! only you, fuck!" you smirk proudly, adding another finger into the mess, as well as more pressure on her clit. the slippery mess spreads all over her inner thighs, dripping gorgeously onto your wrist.

"please, 'm close." you feel her clenching tightly with every thrust. leaning down, you leave sloppily wet kisses at every expanse of her skin, smooth and free, all for you to mark. nosing your way up to her ear, you bit down before rasping out,

"come for me, pretty girl." a whimper turn moan breaks through, loud and throaty, enough for you to know that her neighbors will, in fact, come knocking at the door tomorrow. jihyo shudders against you as you help her ride out her orgasm, fingers still pushing in and out. the wetness pools on the sheet, surely spreading everywhere. what a pretty mess.

feeling jihyo squirm a bit, you pull out gently, earning a whimper.

shamelessly wiping your hands on the sheets, you give her temple a kiss, before moving down for a deep kiss, less teeth and tongue, more feelings and passion. you pull away slowly, a string of spit trailing between both of you. you stutter for a second, seeing a dangerous glint in jihyo's eyes.

"think you can refute that, hyo? what happened to that running mouth of yours, baby?" looking down at her, breathlessly beautiful and sprawled out for you. you slowly sink closer again, lightly kissing parts of her throat that you know have her gasping.

when jihyo finally recovers, she husks out the words that got her feeling your moan against her neck before hearing it,

you kiss your teeth, glancing around looking for a familiar brown-head of hair that belonged to sana. you pull out your phone, opening the chat where she said she’ll will be there in ten minutes. the text was sent twenty-two minutes ago.

jihyo is perched on the roof of an appartment building opposite to the street where you stood, bow and a glowing heart arrow resting beside her, waiting for their opportunity to blossom love between the two people they get shot to.

she has been observing you for about two weeks now, clinging to your being like a perfume sprayed one too many times. it’s a mandatory procedure to understand your target and find a match that’s as close to perfection as possible.

though she always takes this process too seriously. she stalks— in an attempted “non-creepy” way, however stalking is indeed stalking— she listens to conversations, she studies her target meticulously like how a scientist studies a lab rat.

it’s no different for you. jihyo’s payed attention to you for days and nights, and she has found the quote-on-quote ‘perfect’ match for you, minatozaki sana.

she’s your colleague in your law firm, she is kind, brings you coffee when she gets hers and always congratulates you when you win a case in your favor with joy that looked like as if she had won the case, not you.

she is equally as chaotic as you; with similar humor, caring nature and what not. jihyo feels proud of her matchmaking skills, because who could possibly be a better match for you?

she has already shot you with an arrow, meaning the only objective left for her now is to shoot sana, who should be on her way from the conversation she heard that occurred between you and the japanese.

jihyo hears the inner angel inside her squeal the words ‘jackpot!’ and she’s sure that if she was visible to the pedestrians below, they would be able to visualize gold coins and bars dancing around her from the bright smile that is etched on her face because look who just came into her peripheral vision— sana.

she picks up her bow, paying attention to sana and you rather than the position of the bow as she picks up the illuminating arrow. she tries to understand what you two are talking about by lip reading, however her lip reading skills are average at best.

you reciprocate the warm, inviting smile sana gives you. “y/n! i’m so sorry for making you wait.” she apologizes. you let out a over-dramatic gasp, “i thought friends don’t apologize.”

she laughs, “oh, yes! how could i forget?” she takes back her apology and you talk some more, ranging from office gossip to what’s your favourite thing about south korea?

you two were going shopping together, because what’s a better way to get close to someone than by shopping together? my hangout ideas are amazing! you praise yourself.

it’s giving narcissist.

jihyo, on the other hand, has her bow aimed right at sana. she is now standing maybe six feet away from you two, so as to accurately shoot sana and not accidently shoot another person.

she always learns from her mistakes.

“OH FUCK!” jihyo’s jaw dropped, she shot a random stranger instead of the match she’d chosen for her target.

“THERE WERE ONLY THREE PEOPLE ON THE STREET.” one of her seniors, nayeon, shrieked. jihyo stuttered a lame excuse, which was obviously not bought by any of her seniors and friends.

her bow was revoked . . . three days after she got it back.

never again.

safe to say, jihyo and her bow are nothing short of enemies. she gulps, pointing her bow at sana as she takes a deep breath. she draws her bow, arrow ready to bond two souls in a beautiful love.

she is about to release the arrow when an ubnoxiously loud horn blares, completely catching her off guard and she flinches hard, her fingers losing grip of her arrow.

the arrow land on the pavement before bouncing back and hitting — her. while you two? you laugh at a dumb joke sana cracks, hand grazing her arm.

a million thoughts run through jihyo’s mind— oh shit. do love arrows work on angels? no, obviously they don’t, hah. who said they don’t? what if they do work? am i tied to a mortal?! what about my human-hater aura?!?!

she face palms herself, unleashing her angel wings. she lifts herself up, flying to the quietest place she can find, an abandoned building on the other side of the industrialized city.

she lands on her feet, head pounding. she takes a deep, deep breath and lets out the loudest, scariest, most petrifying, most perplexing and most disgusting scream mankind would’ve heard if she was in her human-proof form, i.e. visible seemingly human form.

【──── ☾︎ ──────── ☀︎︎ ──────── ☽︎ ────】

【──── ☾︎ ──────── ☀︎︎ ──────── ☽︎ ────】

you fix your hair for the last time, grabbing your phone and keys. you walk out and lock the front door of your studio appartment. as you reach the ground floor, a black suv pulls up and steps out a woman with blonde hair.

jihyo’s eyes narrow, who is that? the woman looks to be your age, with heavy makeup and a big fat tattoo on her neck to her jaw. jihyo is stunned.

a strange, undesirable feeling spreads in her being. it’s not hate, distaste or even judgement; it is something else entirely. her eyebrows furrow and she unfurls her wings as the suv engine roars to life.

she follows the car with intent, she doesn’t know who you’re with and she can’t take the risk of anything happening to you. she needs to have a happily in love client, not a harmed or dead one.

upon reaching the restaurant, jihyo remarks that it looks very expensive taking in account the standards of mortals and what they consider ‘exquisite’ — which is nothing compared to heaven’s breathtaking artitechture, but jihyo digresses — she sees the woman open the door for you and lead the way.

jihyo sits herself on the windowsill along the table you and your date sit at. her lips are pulled downward, her eyes stern and glaring at the woman for unknown reasons, most probably annoyance as she didn’t pair you two and if you did start dating momo, jihyo knows her name now, she wouldn’t get credit for it. that is she’ll have a failed target.

fuck you, momo.

the more the date progresses, the more jihyo gets mad. you and momo are now engrossed in a meaningful conversation with her hand on top of yours, disgusting, jihyo thinks.

since when did literal cupid have a problem with public display of affection, especially in this case: all you’re doing is letting momo lay her hand on yours, that is it.

jihyo won’t let this ship sail, not when you’re her target, absolutely not.

following this date, you are more than happy to have a second date, but momo declines and says she already has a person who she is seeing seriously. it is surprising, the date you went on is only three days ago as of now but mayhaps she fell in love at the first sight.

jihyo is the culprit for this. she matched momo with another woman of the name dahyun, gaining another target up her sleeve and conveniently got momo out of the way.

is it a little unethical to pair a target with a match that you’re not assigned to? ofcourse. is jihyo regretful? the fuck not, infact her ego is higher and soaring the skies just as she is, literally, in search of another match because she just heard you sister-zone sana.

over the course of the week, you’ve went on a first date, and also a second date, but things didn’t end well, it didn’t escalate to a third date. you are pretty bummed, simply too tired from spending valentines day alone for all your life.

now, jihyo? that’s another, more impatient story. well, she is very patient b everyone has their limits and she is at the point where the line of the ending of her limits is seen four meters away.

she’s been working on this for five weeks and counting. she thinks finding love is easy, but this has proved her wrong, sometimes it really is as comically hard to find as movies and those ‘slow burn’ books make it out to be.

in this stage of annoyance and stress— she comes to a slightly, again, unethical solution. it is a given that you, as a cupid, aren’t to reveal your identity and let your target know you’re their assigned cupid. however, she is at her wits end and breaking cupid laws is not her biggest priority.

so, she gets your number from snooping on your phone at the dead of night. she is currently in a hotel room that she rented down the street where you live, with her phone in hand, your number opened and fingers selectively typing an appropriate message; which is definitely not easy as you know, texting your target as their cupid doesn’t have a course, unfortunate.

【──── ☾︎ ──────── ☀︎︎ ──────── ☽︎ ────】

【──── ☾︎ ──────── ☀︎︎ ──────── ☽︎ ────】

with your cupid’s guidance and planning, you have went on many, many dates in the past month. and two times you were ready for an official relationship, but somehow, someway, it never worked out.

something always went wrong one way or another; minnie who quit things because she wanted to be with a thai woman, why did she say that after three dates? questionable. and then there is mina, who denied continuing things due to ‘personal reasons’, debatable.

you are deeply frustrated, while jihyo hasn’t a problem, she is unbothered, happy even! she is driving you crazy. seeing her so chill about your already non-existent love life deteriorating makes you want to maybe rip her glorious wings off.

oh, yes. you have seen her now. after you begged, begged and begged some more and even went as far as to put your ego aside just to see who your damn cupid was, she showed herself, wings, shining iridescent halo and all.

she is pretty, like very pretty, ethereal-unreal-doesnotexist type pretty. you wonder what it would be like if only she was human. yet, she is not, she is an angel. you’re a human.

you huff sitting opposite to jihyo, jaw clenched as you glare at your cupid. “how bad of a matchmaker are you?” you ask, “does it always take this long to match two people?”

jihyo has an unreadable expression on her face, an emotion evident which you can’t identify. she’s utterly conflicted and her mind, it is a whirlwind of ‘what if’s’ and ‘why me’s’.

over the course of this month, every day you went out with another woman, held hands, smiled, giggled; she felt angry. she didn’t know why, her plan was literally going according to plan, you were having a good time, yet she couldn’t shake the unknown feeling in her.

one day, in heaven as she was conversing with jeongyeon, she couldn’t hold herself back and she asked her. jihyo explained her symptoms, as if she was infected with a disease, and told her what has been happening with her.

the more she talked, the more jeongyeon’s smile turned downwards, spread into a deep frown by the end of jihyo’s struggle-speech. jeongyeon sighed, raising her hand and placing it on jihyo’s shoulder.

“what?” she asked, confusion written on her face. jeongyeon sucked a breath, “jihyo, the arrow did work. you’re in love,” jihyo gasped, a look that can only be expressed by pure exasperation on her face.

jeongyeon nodded a little when she saw her face and continued, “you’re experiencing jealousy; you want to be in her date’s place.” jihyo shook her head, “that isn’t possible! what are you talking about?!”

“i now know, it is infact possible. arrows if love work on cupids too.” jihyo’s world was turned upside down from the two lines. how did she fall in love with a mortal? the same mortals who she finds pathetic to be in love with.

pure, golden irony.

today, as she sits across from you, understands the feeling she feels when she’s with you. she knows the effect your laugh, your smile and your eyes have on her is because of the bond that she created.

she swipes her tongue on her bottom lip, making your eyes drift on them for a second before flicking up to her. she stands up, walking closer.

you look at her with a perplexed look on you. she disregards your expression, clasping her fingers around your wrist and pulling you up to stand inches from her.

from this close, you can see faint sparkles in her irises and her pupils are slightly dilated. you have never been this close to her, you can see the faint skin texture of her face.

a light rosy shade of pink coats your cheeks from the distance, or lack of to be clear. “what do you think you’re doing?” you ask, trying to sound stern, but your words come out hushed, careful.

“i matched you with someone more than a month ago.” she says, words laced with something sweet and not monotone speech. you have noticed changes in her since getting to know her.

in the start, she was sharp, demanding and dedicated to finding you a match. slowly, though, she got more sloppy, more indecisive, more soft.

her eyes aren’t blank when she looks at you now, they are a mix of something soft and mayhaps... vulnerable. her feels more approachable, less like a love tyrant.

“then, why is she not asking me out for a date?” you try to pull your hand out her grip but it only tightens, “she is a coward, so she looked at tou from afar.” jihyo answers and she isn’t wrong, she is a coward for seeing you be rejected again and again, knowing who you are to her.

“well, you did a bad match then! i don’t like cowards.” you complain sharply, huffing once more. “she told me she won’t be a coward anymore,” jihyo coos internally at you, who knew humans are this cute?

you don’t respond, waiting for her to continue. “is she still a bad match, even if she’s your cupid?” jihyo finally says it out loud and it feels like a big burden has been removed from her shoulders.

your mouth falls agape, gears in your head working overtime to comprehend the question jihyo posed, “you can’t be serious.” is all your throat allows you to whisper, eyes blinking at her, your supposed match.

“i wish i was, loving a mortal isn’t easy.” loving? your brain short-circuits. “oh my god.” you breath out. “why are you calling god’s name when you have an angel?” jihyo tilts her head.

she looks so cute right now— y/n what are you thinking?

“so, can i kiss you?” you ask, hesitant, you’ve never kissed an angel before— duh, but as you look into jihyo’s eyes and fall for them, understanding that her unreadable look is just her eyes with tiny, dancing hearts in them— you want to.

maybe thinking like this isn’t bad.

jihyo immediately almost spontaneously combusts, blush staining her sun-kissed skin. you raise a brow, ready to back down, maybe i was too straight forward, but she doesn’t say anything.

instead, she presses her lips to yours, pulling you in a blissful kiss. it feels like sparks and fireworks blast around you. you have kissed many woman in your life, but they’ve never felt this right, this good, this perfect.

jihyo truly is your match, the kiss just proved it, and you for some reason, can’t find any reason to be frustrated. and as you pull away for a second before she rushes in again, making your forehead bump with hers, you can feel her smile into the kiss. and you realise being cupid’s match won’t be bad, at all.

and jihyo? she has now broken a big rule in cupid guidelines, yet she isn’t bothered. because she now knows why mortals love. loving mortals isn’t hard and it is surprisingly addicting. and even if she has to suffer the consequences of breaking a rule she, she wants more, especially if the mortal in question is you.

【──── ☾︎ ──────── ☀︎︎ ──────── ☽︎ ────】

【──── ☾︎ ──────── ☀︎︎ ──────── ☽︎ ────】

𝓚𝑰𝑹𝑨'𝑺 𝙎𝒊𝙂𝓝𝘼𝙇 ( ˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗ ) HAPPY JIHYO DAYYYYYYYYY this is my gift to u guys in honor of my second wifey's birthday !! she's 29 shut up ..... I SAID SHUT UPPPPP she's my babyyyy :333 ++ this is pretty long but I wanted it to be even longer bcs I love this trope sb but deadlines and I have sm school work I'm gonna kms ALSO this is probably the longest fic there'll be for cupid's cards bcs I simply don't have enough time to write 27 MORS longs fics like so they will all be shorter than this and might also have smau inclusions like this one too WHICH REMINDS ME how is this new style of writing I made many changes, it's in present tense now + there's the smau screenshots + it's a bit more descriptive and a bit less serious idk I kinda like it PLEASEE LMK && yk the drill pls like n reblog I'll mwah u

𓆩♡𓆪 taglist! OPEN ♡

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ regulars! @woniefication @shyoko

link for part one is in the synopsis note! enjoy xx

⸻

tour begins again. 

bangkok. malaysia next.

the last verse hits like a blade.

you drop into it with no warning—spit each bar low, steady, dangerous.

your voice is all smoke and bite, pulled tight over that beat like leather over knuckles.

your flow hits so hard the floor shakes beneath it.

your body follows—shoulders sharp, footwork clean, hips riding the bass like you were born for it.

the lights strobe once, twice—then blackout.

and the crowd erupts.

screams ripple like fire across the stadium.

someone’s crying in the front row.

someone else just yelled marry me.

you don’t hear it. you’re too busy trying to steady your own breathing.

because you just burned that stage down.

and you know it.

and then backstage is chaos—hair stuck to sweat, stage crew praising, mic packs being ripped off. adrenaline crashing.

you barely make it through the wings before you’re swallowed.

“okay. what the hell was that?!” nayeon grabs your arm, spinning you half-around. “that verse—that voice—when did you get hot like that?!”

“she’s always been hot,” jeongyeon says, throwing a towel at your chest. “you just finally opened your eyes.”

chaeyoung slides in behind you, arms around your waist, chin hooked on your shoulder as she stands on her tiptoes. “you wanna explain why my soul left my body during your verse?”

“same,” momo adds, fanning herself with both hands. “i blacked out halfway through and my knees almost gave out. also, did you growl?”

“she absolutely did,” dahyun confirms. “did you hear the screams after? the fans liked it.”

“and we all liked it.” tzuyu, helpfully, deadpans whilst sipping her water like it’s an offering.

“you’re all so embarrassing,” mina says her eyes narrowing before she turns to you with a serious demeanour. “do it again next show.”

you’re laughing—so much that you almost fall off the chair you’re on. 

you haven’t even caught your breath when sana appears like gravity itself and drops straight into your lap.

you grunt—half-surprised, half-dazed.

she straddles you with zero hesitation, arms around your neck, forehead pressed to yours.

“i think i need you to do that performance again,” she says, voice breathless. “but, like—alone. for me.”

you raise a brow. “you gonna pay for VIP?”

“baby,” she grins, “i am VIP.”

nayeon throws a towel at both of you and scoffs in fake disgust. 

jeongyeon mutters “get a room.”

chaeyoung’s taking a picture.

you just tip your head back against the chair and laugh.

and then, across the room. jihyo. 

she’s seated, towel loose around her shoulders, bottle untouched in her lap.

her gaze is fixed on you. but not like the others.

not teasing. not playful. just—still. 

you feel it. like a hand pressing softly on your chest.

because while the others flirt and play, she’s not moving. not talking. 

just watching you.

and you can’t read her expression. not fully.

but maybe—

maybe she doesn’t even know what she’s feeling

herself.

because you didn’t just perform.

you took over.

and now everyone wants a piece of you.

but jihyo?

she’s not reaching for you.

she’s just sitting there—wrecked.

wondering if she’s the only one who didn’t realise how far ahead of her you’ve already run.

⸻

the studio’s sleek and softly lit, the kind of place where everything feels a little too polished. the air smells faintly like fresh coffee and nerves.

the interviewer is beautiful. sharp-eyed, perfectly styled. calm in a way that makes you sit straighter than you mean to.

she keeps smiling at you.

half of the group’s lined up on a long couch, the others on stools placed carefully behind it.

you’re seated near the center, legs crossed, mic clipped to your collar. jihyo’s down the line, quiet, focused. her hands folded neatly in her lap.

“thank you all for being here,” the interviewer says, smiling warmly. “first of all, congratulations on picking up the second leg of what seems to be an incredible tour.”

“thank you,” nayeon says, bright as ever. “we’re only just beginning to recover.”

“emotionally, no,” jeongyeon mutters. “physically, definitely not—all of my muscles are so sore.”

laughter drifts across the couch.

the interviewer glances down at her cards, then back at you.

“and, y/n—especially you.”

you glance up.

“me?”

“yes,” she says, her smile deepening. “your solo moment in the final show… that had the internet in pieces.”

you laugh softly. “it wasn’t that serious.”

“oh, but it was,” she says. “the edits. the fancams. the reactions. i think you officially broke twitter.”

“and several hearts,” momo adds, putting her hand over her own. “i, for one, am still not over it.”

“you were everywhere,” chaeyoung says. “people were calling you their villain arc.”

“i think one fan wrote a poem,” tzuyu laughs, sincere.

“i read it,” mina murmurs. “it was kind of beautiful.”

you tilt your head. “should i be flattered or worried?”

“both,” nayeon says. “leaning flattered.”

the interviewer tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. “the reaction was especially strong among women,” she says casually, though her eyes land on you again. “you’ve built a huge female fanbase.”

you smile, dipping your head.

“they’re… cool,” you say. “very creative.”

“and very vocal,” jeongyeon says, grinning, slapping the back of your head lightly. 

then the interviewer shifts a little, turning down the line.

“jihyo,” she says, her tone softening. “as the leader, what’s it like seeing y/n—your youngest member—step so fully into the spotlight like this?”

the group quiets slightly.

you glance over—jihyo’s fiddling with her acrylics. 

“honestly,” she begins, voice even but not flat, “it’s exactly what we’ve all seen coming.”

your chest tightens—just a bit.

“she’s always worked hard,” jihyo continues. “consistently. quietly. even when no one’s watching.”

you try not to move. not to react.

“and now that people are watching,” jihyo says, “i think they’re just catching up to what we’ve known. and i can’t blame them for falling for y/n.”

mina smiles softly beside you, hand gently but affectionately tapping your thigh whilst sana shifts closer to you, nodding gently, but your stomach tightens from jihyo’s words. 

“she’s earned this,” jihyo adds. “every part of it.”

you feel a few light slaps on your left shoulder blade—dahyun, you think. 

“and i’m proud of her,” jihyo finishes. “so, ridiculously proud of her showcasing her talent.”

you glance down at your hands. you don’t smile fully. but something flickers in your chest.

the interviewer nods slowly, like she wasn’t expecting quite so much honesty.

then nayeon perks up before she leans forward slightly, a sense of playfulness showing in the glittering of her eyes. “what about you?” she asks. “what do you think of y/n?”

the room goes still for a beat.

your head whips toward her.

so does jihyo’s.

“me?” the interviewer blinks. “oh—i—well, um… i think she’s—” she clears her throat and straightens her cards, her cheeks flushing pink.

“she’s very… charismatic,” she trips on her words. “on stage, of course. very focused. umm, and charming.”

“charming?” nayeon echoes, delighted.

“yes. very,” the interviewer says again. too quickly.

you bite your lip to keep from laughing.

sana nudges your arm and whispers, “you’re blushing.”

you are not. probably.

jihyo’s gaze is sharp now. not at the interviewer.

not at you. just at the table. hands folded too tightly.

the moment passes. the conversation moves. but you feel it. her silence. the weight in the few words she does say for the rest of the interview.

and the tension in her knuckles.

and for once, she doesn’t know if it’s jealousy she’s hiding, or something else entirely.

⸻

you board a little late, after the press shuffle, after the flashes, after the last security sweep.

by the time you reach the cabin, everything is hushed.

first class is dim, private.

just the nine of you scattered across staggered window seats, angled like little islands.

curtains drawn despite it being midday. 

the plane smells like clean air and exhaustion.

you slide into your seat—second row window. noise-cancelling headphones looped lazily around your neck. a blanket folded tight on your lap.

you try to get comfortable.

you try to sleep. but your eyes keep shifting.

keep drifting forward. 

keep finding her.

jihyo.

first row. same side of the plane.

hood down. seat slightly reclined. arm stretched along the divider. long legs drawn up loosely beneath the blanket, ankles crossed.

she’s not doing anything special—just breathing, just resting. but you can’t stop looking. her posture. her collarbone. the shape of her shoulder under soft cotton. the way her hand flexes, barely visible, where it rests against her thigh.

you turn back to your screen. open a movie you’ve already seen.

ten minutes go by. you check the time twice.

and then your gaze drifts back. again.

jihyo hasn’t moved though her head’s tilted slightly toward the window now, like she’s watching the wing lights blink in the dark.

you wonder if she knows.

you adjust your blanket. plug your headphones in. scroll. pause.

your eyes flick forward. again.

this time, it’s the curve of her jaw. the pale glow of the cabin lights on her cheek.

it has you exhaling, quiet. controlled.

jeongyeon, across the aisle, is already out cold. tzuyu’s murmuring something to dahyun two rows back. sana’s curled in her seat like a cat.

and you—?

you haven’t said a word. haven’t looked for conversation. haven’t even tried.

because even now, with distance and silence and private space, 

your attention keeps falling in one direction.

her.

you wonder how long it’ll take before she notices.

or if she already has.

and just isn’t looking back.

⸻

the landing feels soft, but the heat hits hard.

as soon as the cabin doors open, it floods in—thick, heavy, clinging to skin like syrup. the airport air is all warm tile, murmured announcements, and damp clothes under layered outfits.

you move through immigration half-asleep, sunglasses low. outside, fans scream your name from behind barriers, but it all feels muted—dreamlike.

the van ride is silent. sweat collects at your spine.

jihyo sits next to you this time.

you don’t speak. not that you ever really do. 

but even in silence, you can feel her skin close. her thigh brushing yours every time the van turns too sharply. her breath just within reach.

by the time you reach the hotel, it’s evening. 

the city outside the tinted windows glows soft orange. people still out, the humidity curling around streetlamps like smoke.

check-in is brief. your bags are already upstairs. keys are handed out.

and then—

“room 1804,” staff says, handing two keys.

to you.

and to jihyo.

your brows lift.

jihyo’s don’t.

she just takes hers quietly.

you follow the bellhop to the elevator.

barely speak as you ride up.

feel your stomach buzz the closer the numbers climb.

⸻

the hotel hallway is cool compared to outside, but not by much. everything smells like soft carpet, lemon cleaner, and too much silence.

you unlock the door to room 1804.

jihyo steps in behind you.

the first thing you notice is the bed. just one. wide, low, crisp white sheets. centered like it owns the room.

the second thing you notice is the air. or—lack of it. thick. unmoving. heavy like held breath.

jihyo crosses the room to the wall unit. presses a button. nothing. again. the fan growls, tries, fails.

you press the hotel phone to your ear.

“hi—yeah. sorry, the ac’s out?” pause. “…oh. right. thanks.”

you hang up. “they’ll send someone in the morning.”

jihyo nods. her voice is even. “okay.”

you set your bag down near the foot of the bed.

your shirt is already damp at the collar.

jihyo pulls her hoodie off first, revealing a pale tank top clinging just slightly to her back.

your eyes flick up before you can stop them—just a glance. the line of her spine. her shoulder blades. the smooth pull of fabric when she lifts her hair to tie it up.

you look away.

the heat settles like a second skin.

neither of you talk—just quiet movement, clothes pulled from bags, water bottles half-drunk and forgotten on the nightstand.

“i’m gonna shower,” you murmur eventually, voice low from heat or something else.

jihyo doesn’t look up from her phone. just nods once. “go ahead.”

and you do. 

you walk towards the bathroom whilst reaching for your shirt.

as you lift it, she moves behind you—quiet, slow.

you don’t see her lift her head. don’t see the way her gaze follows the slope of your waist, the faint sheen on your chest, the way your breath catches just slightly before you drop the shirt to the side.

jihyo lies back on the bed, staring at the ceiling.

the fan still isn’t working.

but now, the heat isn’t what’s bothering her.

you take your time.

not too long.

but long enough that she starts thinking.

about your skin. your voice. your gaze on the plane. your silence. you. 

the door finally opens, and you step into the room barefoot. 

she doesn’t look up. not right away.

but her gaze lifts as you pass her. just once. 

your hair’s wet, towel. wrapped around your body. your feet bare against the tile.

a flick of her gaze—quick, quiet, a split-second trace of your hip, the drop of water trailing down your neck.

then gone.

she stands as you cross the room. grabs her own towel wordlessly. brushes past you at the bathroom door.

you don’t speak. neither does she.

the door shuts behind her. the water starts.

your phone vibrates whilst you towel dry your hair, and it has you changing into a cropped tee, pulling on a pair of shorts and some shoes before grabbing your keycard and putting it in your phonecase. 

when jihyo comes out—fresh shirt, skin flushed, hair wet—the room’s dim.

and you’re gone. 

no footsteps. no echo. just empty space.

she picks up her phone.

mina [8:08 pm]: sana and i are taking her 

mina [8:08 pm]: just for a bit

mina [8:08 pm]: don’t wait up, we’ll be late 

jihyo doesn’t respond.

just sits at the edge of the bed, towel still in her hands, heart somewhere even further away.

and for once, there’s no heat in the room.

just the cold that comes after someone leaves.

⸻

outside the hotel window, headlights slide across high-rises, motorbikes hum below, neon signs blink through the haze.

inside the room, it’s still.

jihyo lies on her side. not asleep. not even close. not when the sheet sticks to her thigh. her shirt is damp at the collar. 

the air hasn’t shifted once since you left.

she hasn’t looked at her phone since mina’s message.

just the slow blink of the city on the ceiling and the empty weight of your side of the bed.

until—voices. soft at first. rising. the muffled chime of the elevator moving again. the echo of sandals on tile. a laugh. yours. clear, bright, loose with air.

and she freezes.

there it is again—softer this time, layered with a teasing voice that sounds much too like sana’s.

mina says something next, and the three of you burst into low, hushed laughter. closer now. the hallway. just outside the door.

jihyo doesn’t move. not even when she hears the keycard beep. the gentle click of the lock.

the door eases open. a shoulder bumps it wider.

you slip in first—still laughing under your breath, trying to be quiet and failing just a little.

sana and mina hover in the doorway behind you.

someone says “sleep well.”

you murmur back, and jihyo hates how she can hear you smiling. and then the door shuts.

jihyo lies still. eyes wide open.

you pause in the dark, probably thinking she’s asleep.

you peel your clothes off, tossing them onto the chair, pulling on an oversized tee. 

the bed’s there. the silence waits. jihyo waits. 

but instead—you turn toward the bathroom.

the door creaks open. the light flickers on. soft. low. you don’t close the door fully behind you.

water runs. 

you lean over the sink, splash once—twice—cool water on your face. your shirt sticks to your spine. your pulse’s steady now, but your skin feels raw under the fluorescent light.

you brush your teeth next. slow. focused. just something to do with your hands.

in the mirror, your eyes flick toward the door.

quiet. still cracked open. still dark beyond it. you spit. rinse. wipe your mouth. turn off the light. and the bathroom clicks shut behind you.

the bed shifts slightly when you crawl into it.

you move slowly. carefully. like you don’t want to wake her. you don’t know she’s not asleep. you don’t know she heard you splash water against your neck, or open the cabinet too fast, or hum under your breath as you rinsed. you don’t know she listened to all of it, lying there in the dark, eyes open, mouth closed, hands clenched under the sheet.

you slide in beneath the covers. face away from her. your breath steadies. hers doesn’t.

neither of you say anything.

but the silence between you is louder than it’s ever been.

and neither of you know what it’ll sound like when it finally breaks.

⸻

“so, did you sleep last night?” nayeon asks, swirling her iced coffee like it’s a weapon. “or just marinate in shared suffering?”

you stretch lazily in your chair. “overheat. sweat. maybe even spiritual death.”

“could’ve come to me,” momo says, poking at her breakfast whilst nudging your leg with her knee. “my bed’s cold and i run cooler than a fan.”

“same,” tzuyu offers calmly. “climate control queen. i don’t even generate heat.”

“you’d have been safe with me,” nayeon sighs dreamily, elbow propped up on the table, palm supporting her face whilst she gazes into the distance. “gentle arms. soft skin. pretty face, perfect snuggle pressure.”

you raise your brows at them. “i had no idea you were all so eager.”

“i think you mean desperate.” jeongyeon corrects. 

sana, seated opposite you, leans in slowly, elbow on the table, head in her hand, lips curved into something that’s not quite a smile but something more dangerous.  “you should’ve come to me,” she purrs, voice low. “i’d have let you sleep right up against me if it was what you wanted.”

you don’t blink. “honestly? i’m pretty sure it would’ve been even hotter.”

sana tilts her head, eyes narrowing just slightly. “you and me together?” a beat. “we’d have have made it worse. we’d have ruined the sheets and broken the thermostat.”

the table explodes.

“i was right here!” nayeon groans. “i offered myself first!”

“are you serious?” momo cries. “i gave you perfect airflow!”

“and yet she chose chaos,” tzuyu mutters, sipping her drink.

“whatever happened to decorum, people?” jeongyeon shouts but everyone ignores her. 

“this is rigged! why does sana always get the good stuff?” nayeon complains, snatching her glass off the table, huffing. 

sana just smirks, tapping your glass with hers and winking. “clearly, she knows quality when she sees it.”

you smile, unbothered.

“i mean… tzuyu’s offer is tempting. no sweat, no heat, no noise? and, you know, it’s tzuyu? kind of hard to beat.”

tzuyu lifts a shoulder, smug. “i know.”

“i really was considering it,” you add then your gaze drifts.

mina. 

seated next to sana. 

quiet. elegant. always watching. always composed.

and you lean forward slightly. voice lower. smile slower. “but if i really needed to cool down,” you say, eyes on her, “i’d ask mina.” 

the table quiets a little.

“oh?” momo says.

“why her?” nayeon demands.

you don’t look away. “because she’s cold where it counts,” you say. “but i get the feeling if i climbed into her bed… i wouldn’t be sleeping.”

the table goes still for half a second.

mina’s gaze on you is calm from over the top of her glass. steady. borderline dangerous. “you say that like i wouldn’t let you come back out,” she says.

you blink once. your smile spreads, slow. “would you?”

mina tilts her head slightly, like she’s assessing a puzzle she’s already solved. “depends,” she says, lips curling into a small smirk. “how good are you at keeping quiet?”

“if you’re trying to fluster me,” you say, voice smooth as silk, “you’ll have to try harder.”

mina’s grin sharpens. “good. i like a challenge.”

and that’s when the table loses it.

“i hate it here!” nayeon yells, slamming her hands on the table for dramatic effect.

“mina?” momo gasps. “you enabled her?!”

“you’re feeding the beast!” jeongyeon accuses.

tzuyu looks personally betrayed. “this is the worst breakfast of my life.”

you just sip your juice.

mina doesn’t break eye contact. neither do you. 

and across the table—

jihyo hasn’t spoken once. she hasn’t laughed. hasn’t smiled. but her glass is empty now.

and her eyes haven’t left you since you said bed.

⸻

the hallway is cool in theory, air-conditioned and dim, but your shirt still sticks to the small of your back.

the laughter from the breakfast room fades behind you—nayeon shouting something about betrayal, momo swearing revenge, tzuyu telling everyone to grow up with a roll of her eyes, all whilst jeongyeon runs away. 

you walk in silence beside jihyo.

not close. but close enough that your arm brushes hers once as you press the elevator button.

she doesn’t move away.

the doors slide open. empty.

you step in. she follows.

the doors close with a quiet thunk.

the stillness settles fast.

you shift your weight. glance up at the soft lighting. the slow tick of floor numbers overhead.

jihyo stands just to your left.

perfect posture. arms crossed. eyes forward.

you don’t speak. neither does she. but the air is thicker than it should be.

you swallow once. it echoes.

your voice is low when you finally speak.

“you didn’t say much at breakfast.”

jihyo doesn’t turn. doesn’t blink.

“there wasn’t much to say.”

you look at her.

her profile is sharp. jaw tight.

“you sure?” you ask, softer now. “felt like a lot of things were being said.”

she exhales once—quiet. through her nose.

then turns her head slightly, finally looking at you. “and you said them to everyone but me.”

it lands between you like a stone.

you hold her gaze.

the numbers tick up. one floor. two.

you take a slow breath.

step just half a pace closer.

“you never gave me space to.”

jihyo doesn’t back away.

but her throat moves as she swallows.

once.

“maybe i didn’t want to hear it,” she says.

barely above a whisper.

you smile—tired, quiet, not cocky this time.

“then why are you listening now?”

silence again.

floor four.

floor five.

the heat presses in.

your arm brushes hers again. slower this time.

the elevator dings.

the doors open. but neither of you move. not for a second. you just stand there. too close. too still.

finally—quietly—jihyo steps out first. you follow.

neither of you speak again until the room door clicks shut behind you.

and even then—

the heat has only started to rise.

the moment the door shuts behind you, it’s like stepping into a sealed box of heat.

stale, unmoving.

your breath catches a little, sweat already re-collecting at your neck.

jihyo doesn’t say anything.

she walks in and drops her keycard on the desk. it lands with a soft clack.

you peel your shoes and socks off in silence.

your shirt is damp. your spine feels sticky.

jihyo pulls her hair up with one hand, twists it, clips it lazily to keep it off her neck.

the move is effortless. familiar.

but it does something to you.

you cross to the window. check if it opens. it doesn’t.

“they still haven’t fixed the ac?” you ask.

your voice sounds thinner in the heat.

“nope,” she says, sitting on the edge of the bed. “they said maybe after lunch.”

you nod once. turn back around. 

she’s staring at the floor.

you grab two water bottles from the mini fridge, offering one wordlessly.

she takes it. your fingers brush.

and you feel it again—that same current that’s been running between you for weeks now, low and slow and sharp.

she drinks half the bottle in one go.

you don’t look at her mouth, but you do.

you sit in the chair by the desk, lean back, legs stretched.

the silence expands. but not in a comfortable way.

you tilt your head. break it first.

“so what was it?”

she doesn’t look up and you know she’s going to feign innocence. “what was what?”

you pause.

“the reason,” you say quietly. “you pulled away.”

she exhales through her nose. quiet.

“I didn’t pull away.”

“you didn’t come close.”

silence.

“jihyo.”

her head lifts, slowly. you hold her gaze.

“you pulled away, and you stayed away. and every time i got close, you shut it down.”

the air between you hums.

you see it in her eyes—the flicker of something she wants to say and hasn’t.

“you were getting close to everyone,” she says finally. “not just me.”

your brows lift slightly.

“and that bothered you?”

her mouth presses into a line. her fingers tighten around the water bottle.

you stand and you walk across the small space. stop in front of her.

the heat clings to both of you. and it not just from the weather. 

“jihyo,” you murmur, lower now. “say it.”

she looks up at you.

eyes dark. unreadable.

but her breathing shifts.

and then—

she stands. close. too close.

her chest nearly touches yours.

her voice barely carries. “you drive me crazy.”

you exhale through your nose. “yeah?”

“you flirt with everyone. laugh. lean in. touch their arms. let them touch you. you’re everywhere.”

your breath catches.

“but you don’t do that with me,” she says. quiet. fierce. “like it’s some sort of game.”

“no,” you whisper. “it’s not.”

you’re both standing in thick air, eyes locked, barely breathing.

her eyes trail all over your face and stop at your lips, her tongue darting out to wet her own. 

neither of you move. 

until she blinks in recognition and steps back.

“i need a cold shower,” she says, voice tight.

you don’t stop her.

you just stand there, heart loud in your chest, as she disappears into the bathroom.

the door shuts. water starts.

you sit back on the bed. 

the room still hot. the silence finally cracked.

and none of this is going back to what it was.

you don’t expect the door to open again so soon.

but when it does—jihyo stands there.

bare.

dripping.

cold water running down her skin in clean, ruthless lines.

she doesn’t say a word.

she just looks at you.

like she’s already made her choice.

your body moves before your thoughts catch up.

you’re off the bed, shedding your clothes fast—no pause, no shame, nothing but heat thrumming in your chest.

she steps back into the shower.

you follow her in.

and then it’s just skin.

cold water.

wet hands.

slick bodies.

and hunger.

you’re on her before you breathe.

her mouth crashes to yours—hot, open, messy.

your fingers dig into her waist, hers twist into your wet hair.

you kiss like you’ve both been waiting to tear something open.

like restraint was a joke you’re done playing.

she gasps when you bite her lip.

moans when your hand slips lower, grips tighter, pulls her closer.

your thighs press together.

your mouths part only when you’re both out of air—and even then, you chase it in shallow, desperate inhales against each other’s skin.

“jihyo—”

“don’t talk,” she breathes. her voice wrecked. “don’t ask. just—”

you kiss her again.

harder this time.

your hand slides between her shoulders, down the arch of her back, over the curve of her ass, back up to her hips before sliding them around her waist and up to cut her breasts.

she pushes you against the wall, mouth on your neck, biting, sucking, breathing hard.

you grip her hip and roll your body up into hers.

your thigh slips between hers.

her breath hitches.

she grinds down.

once.

twice.

she gasps, forehead falling to your shoulder.

“fuck,” she whispers.

“yeah,” you breath. “i am.”

her mouth finds yours again.

there’s no hesitation now.

just hunger.

slippery skin.

tangled limbs.

teeth scraping.

hands everywhere.

you taste her sigh.

feel her nails in your back.

and somewhere between the next gasp and the next roll of her hips—you stop pretending this was ever just about heat.

a few moments pass then jihyo’s thigh presses between yours, slick and solid, grinding slow as her hand fists in your hair, forcing your mouth to hers again.

you moan into it.

it’s not pretty. not restrained. not the kind of sound you’ve ever let her hear.

but she swallows it like she needs it.

your hands slip over her back, over every line of her, wet skin dragging under your palms. you pull her tighter, grind forward, feel her shudder against you.

“god,” she breathes, lips dragging along your jaw, your cheekbone, your throat. “you don’t even know what you do to me.”

“show me,” you gasp.

and she does.

her hands roam—everywhere, insistent, frantic—gripping the curve of your waist, dragging along your ribs, cupping your breasts like she’s claiming them, not asking.

she groans when you arch into her touch.

you kiss her again, messier now—tongues slick, mouths parted, teeth grazing, no rhythm, just need.

water crashes against the tile behind you, splashing your legs, cooling nothing.

you’re both burning.

her thigh shifts between yours, grinding up as your bodies lock together. you roll your hips hard—once, then again—and she nearly chokes on a moan.

“again,” she mutters. “do it again.”

you obey.

she grabs your ass in both hands, anchoring you against her, and your rhythm turns sharp, shameless.

there’s no performance here. no soft giggles.

no teasing smiles. 

just breathless curses. 

needy friction.

quiet, desperate sounds swallowed by the rush of water.

your bodies slip and slide in a rhythm only you two understand—imperfect and urgent and honest.

your hand finds the nape of her neck, holds her there, foreheads pressing together between frantic kisses, gasps breaking in tandem.

she whispers your name like a curse. like a prayer.

and when she pushes you back against the tile again, hands flat to the wall beside your head, staring down at you like she’s trying to memorise the way your mouth looks when it parts like that—she doesn’t say anything else. she doesn’t need to.

because you’re both already gone.

and there’s no turning back now.

and you both know it. 

which is why you continue. 

you’re still trembling—bare, breathless—when jihyo’s hand slides up your thigh. slow. sure. claiming.

your skin twitches under her palm. your head drops back against the tile. 

you expect her to kiss you again.

she doesn’t.

instead, her mouth brushes your ear, breath hot despite the cold water.

“stay still.”

your eyes open, wide—surprised, wrecked, ready. you nod.

she slides down.

barely a breath between you.

her thigh presses between yours—but this time, her hand moves with it.

she finds your chest first—palms cupping your breasts, thumbs dragging over your nipples, slick and hard under her touch.

you gasp.

her lips find your throat.

her teeth follow.

“fuck,” you breathe, fingers gripping her shoulders, her hair, anything to keep you grounded.

she doesn’t stop.

her hands are everywhere now—your breasts, your ribs, the dip of your waist, the curve of your hips.

until finally—finally—she slips her hand between your thighs. fingers. hot. firm. confident.

she touches you like she’s been thinking about it for weeks. like she already knows what makes you twitch.

and when she finds it?

you gasp so sharp your legs nearly give out.

she holds you up with her free arm, locking her wrist behind your back while her fingers start to move—slow at first.

then deeper. slippery. grinding.

her forehead presses to yours.

“i want to feel you come again,” she whispers.

you nod, barely able to speak.

“then—fuck—don’t stop.”

her fingers curl.

your mouth falls open. and she watches you. the whole time.

wide eyes focused on your face, on your lips, on the way your body clenches around her hand like you never want her to stop.

her thumb brushes once. twice. you jolt.

you gasp her name.

she kisses you then—deep and hard, swallowing the sound you make as her fingers work you open, closer, harder.

you fall apart like that. 

in her hands. held up by her arms, by her mouth, by the way she whispers “that’s it, baby, give it to me” like it’s hers.

because it is. you are.

and you want her to know it.

when you shudder hard—moaning into her mouth, thighs shaking, chest heaving—she doesn’t stop.

she draws it out. longer.

until your body jerks, twitching, oversensitive, completely wrecked.

and only then—only then—does she pull back, slowly, fingers gliding out of you, coated in proof.

you’re panting. clinging to her. eyes glazed. mouth open.

and jihyo just watches you, hand still between your legs, voice quiet, proud.  “mine.”

she’s still holding you—pinned between the tile and her chest, fingers slick, breath catching in her throat.

but the second your legs steady, 

you flipit. your hands grip her waist. your mouth finds hers—rough, wet, deep.

and this time, you press forward.

shestumbles. just slightly. just enough.

you back her into the wall, reverse the weight of what she gave you, give it back with your mouth on her neck, your hand sliding up her thigh.

jihyo gasps.

it’s not controlled. not planned. it’s pure reflex.

you drag your mouth lower, tongue flattening against her breasts, her nipples as your hand trails over her hip, down between her thighs—

and she opens for you.

immediately.

automatically.

your fingers slide through wetness that has nothing to do with the water.

and she can feel you grin against her skin.

“already?” you murmur.

she exhales—shaky. “shut up.”

you hum. “no.”

and then—

you sink to your knees.

hands dragging down her thighs, over her calves, nails scraping just enough to make her shiver.

your mouth moves first—tongue teasing, circling, barely touching.

you hear her head hit the tile, hear her breath hitch.

her fingers grip your shoulders then your hair.

tight.

you grin against her—she feels it.

and you give her everything.

your mouth presses in. tongue sliding where she needs it. slow. deep. then faster. hungrier. hands spreading her thighs wider until she’s completely open to you.

jihyo moans—head falling forward, one hand braced on the wall, the other tangled in your hair.

you slide one finger in. then two.

then curl them just right, dragging your tongue hard and flat and deep until she gasps your name and pulls your face harder into her.

she’s shaking now. hips moving. thighs trembling.  

no rhythm. just need.

you don’t slow down. you don’t let her.

she tries to warn you—tries to speak—

“wait—i’m—fuck, i’m gonna—”

but you don’t stop.

your tongue continues, your fingers do too, and she breaks with a loud, guttural cry that echoes off the tiles and makes your knees shake again from the sound alone.

she comes hard.

full-body. legs locking. hands grasping. hips rolling up into your mouth like she never wants you to stop.

you ride it out with her.

stay with her through every twitch, every breathless whimper, until her grip loosens.

then you rise slowly. deliberately.

kissing every inch of skin you come across, tongue lapping her navel, sucking her nipples before licking up her throat and kissing her. deep. letting her taste what she gave you.

and when you part and she opens her eyes—barely, still dazed, still catching her breath—you just whisper, “mine too.”

and for a moment, you just breathe together. no rush. no teasing.

just this—water falling, bodies pressed, mouths brushing.

she kisses your shoulder. your collarbone. your neck.

slow. unhurried. like she’s still tasting the pieces of you she hasn’t memorised yet.

your eyes flutter shut.

and her voice—barely audible now.  “if we don’t get out soon, i’ll need you again.”

you smile, eyes still closed.

“then don’t stop me.”

her lips curve against your skin.

but she doesn’t answer.

and her hands don’t move.

but yours do. 

⸻

it’s been a few weeks since bangkok.

since that night where the tension finally broke—cold water, hot skin, and the sound of your name from jihyo’s mouth like it was the only thing keeping her steady.

since the morning after, where you woke up still tangled together, jihyo’s hand resting lightly on your waist, your forehead tucked against her shoulder.

since the quiet shift that settled between you—no more pretending, but not making it a spectacle either.

jihyo tried to hide it. or at least, she thinks she does.

her touches are gentle, almost absentminded—like brushing lint off your shoulder during practice, or resting her hand on your lower back when you’re moving through a crowd.

she leans into you when you’re sitting on the couch, her shoulder against yours, pretending it’s just because there’s not enough space.

sometimes her hand finds yours under the table, just for a second, and she pulls away like no one noticed.

she thinks she’s being subtle.

she’s not.

everyone notices.

the group doesn’t say much—just shares glances when she lingers a little too long or when you share a look that’s softer than it should be.

they’re letting you both figure it out, but it’s obvious they’re a little amused by how oblivious jihyo is to her own actions.

tonight, you’re backstage after an award show.

the host had been a little too flirty—leaning in, laughing too hard, resting her hand on your arm like it was part of the script when you guys collected your award.

you didn’t think much of it, but you noticed how jihyo’s eyes narrowed slightly, her fingers tensing around her water bottle.

now you’re in the dressing room, winding down.

nayeon is sprawled on the couch, momo’s digging through her bag for snacks, and sana is scrolling on her phone.

jihyo is at the vanity, fixing her hair, trying to look uninterested.

“that host was practically throwing herself at you,” nayeon teases, grinning.

momo nods. “right? like, i thought she was gonna sit in your lap for a second.”

jihyo doesn’t look up, but you see her shoulders tense a bit.

you just shrug, nonchalance evident in your voice as you play it off. “she was just being friendly.”

sana scoffs. “friendly? she was one laugh away from proposing. and that’s coming from me!”

chaeyoung snickers. “seriously, she was staring like you were a work of art.”

jihyo stays quiet, but you notice how she’s wiping the same spot on her cheek longer than necessary.

you glance at her in the mirror, giving a quick, soft smile.

she catches it, lips twitching just barely, but then goes back to pretending she’s not listening.

as the others start filtering out to find food, you stay behind.

jihyo is still at the vanity, now just staring at her reflection, clearly lost in thought.

you come up behind her, resting your hands gently on her shoulders.

she leans back slightly, like she’s been waiting for you to do that.

“you good?” you murmur.

jihyo nods, but it’s too quick, too practiced.

“yeah. just… tired,” she says.

you move your hands down to her upper arms, thumbs brushing lightly.

“you sure?”

jihyo finally turns to face you, her eyes a little softer now.

“she was really into you,” jihyo mumbles, almost like she didn’t mean to say it out loud.

you bite back a smile, leaning down to kiss her forehead. “well it’s a shame i don’t care.”

jihyo hesitates, then nods, but you can see the worry still there.

you take a breath, feeling your chest tighten just a bit.

“can i… can i ask you something?”

jihyo meets your gaze, her hand finding yours almost automatically. “of course,” she says.

you hesitate, trying to gather your thoughts.

“a few weeks ago… that interview we did,” you start, voice quieter than usual. jihyo’s eyes flicker with recognition. “when they asked about… me,  about all the attention i get.”

her lips part slightly, like she knows where you’re going.

“you said… i deserved it. that i work hard,” you swallow, looking down for a second. “did you really mean it?”

jihyo squeezes your hand, pulling you a little closer as she stands up. 

“yeah,” she whispers. “i meant it.”

you meet her eyes, your own feeling a bit too open, too vulnerable—but jihyo absolutely adores it. “even the part where you said… you couldn’t blame anyone for falling for me?”

jihyo’s lips quirk into a small, almost shy smile.

“especially that part,” she says, like it’s the simplest truth.

you let out a shaky laugh, the relief washing through you. “so… you fell for me?”

jihyo’s eyes soften even more, and she steps closer, her other hand coming up to cup your face. “yeah,” she murmurs. “harder than i planned to.”

you smile, brushing your lips against hers—soft, grateful, lingering.

jihyo kisses you back, letting it last, and when you pull away, her thumb strokes your cheek.

“you really didn’t know?” she asks, almost amused.

you shake your head, feeling a bit silly. “just needed to hear you say it,” you admit.

jihyo kisses you again, softer this time. “i’ll say it as much as you want,” she whispers.

before you can respond, nayeon’s voice rings out from the hallway.

“are you two done being cute? we’re starving!”

jihyo just sighs, resting her head against your shoulder. 

you laugh, brushing your fingers through her hair. “guess we’re not as subtle as you think,” you murmur.

jihyo pulls back, giving you a half-hearted glare.

“i thought i was being low-key,” she mumbles.

you grin, kissing the corner of her mouth. “babe, you’re about as low-key as a firework.”

jihyo scoffs, but there’s a blush creeping up her face.

and as you walk out to join the others, jihyo’s hand slips into yours again, and this time, she doesn’t let go.

tzuyu just shakes her head when she sees your linked fingers. “you two really thought you were being subtle, huh?”

jihyo just shrugs, not bothering to answer.

and when you sit next to her in the van, she pulls you closer, resting your head on her shoulder.

nayeon smirks, but jihyo just leans down, pressing a quick kiss to your hair like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

this time—

neither of you care who sees.

because for once, it feels right.

at exactly 8 p.m, you pack all your things up on your desk, and rush out of the office before anyone could pull you into boring small talk. you have one mission, get to your house and spend time with _zyozyo by 9 p.m.

your didn't notice the speed at which you were walking until your shoulder bumps into a coworker, quite hard, and your body instantly bows. "i'm so sorry."

the girl, you've only seen around the office a few times, whips her long brown hair over her shoulder as her head turns, "it's okay, just walk more careful," she had an alluring voice that had familiarity to it, and you bow once again.

when she walks away, your eyes focus on her beautiful body, the way her hips sway as if she knew how hot she was in that tight pencil skirt. you shake your head from all thoughts about her, and rush out of the building.

you get home at exactly 8:15 and do your usual routine before going on stream.

you take a simple shower, rub your body down with essential oil, so you look glossy, and find a cute set of lingerie, then throwing a robe over your body.

thankfully, the two of you agreed on hiding identities, so makeup and styling your hair isn't necessary.

the clock read 8:58 p.m when you finish all the steps, and sit on your bed with your laptop propped in your lap, butterflies swirling in the pit of your stomach as you click on the link.

you smile when you see _zyozyo already in the 'waiting room' of your profile, and open the chat.

ur_cupid: hi beautiful, you're here early hehe

_zyozyo: i just couldn't wait any longer to see you

you blush at her message and the butterflies multiple by 100 as the laptop pops up you have an incoming video call.

you answer quicker than you should have, and make sure the camera is pointed at the lower-half of your body only.

zyo wasn't infront of the usual light green wall in her room, instead replaced by a white one.

"i'm not in my room tonight, i had to stay late for work, and i snuck away to a random supply closet with no cameras. but don't worry, i'm the only one here, so you can still hear my cute moans."

she was in a simple black push up bra and floral print panties, yet it was more sexy than any lingerie she's ever worn.

your thighs were already squeezing together and a low giggle comes from her mouth when she notices. "sorry, you look extra sexy tonight, and i'm grateful you didn't reschedule even if you're working late."

zyo kisses the back of her teeth and analyzes every inch of your body as if it was the first time seeing you. "how could i do that to you? i know my princess is a needy girl."

the wetness in your panties grew by size at the pet name and your clit is already pulsating for her.

"take off your bra baby," she instructs, rubbing her boob through her own bra, that stayed on.

you didn't hesitate, unclipping the lingerie quickly until your breasts spill out, and throw the useless fabric somewhere in your room. the cold air mixed with the pool inbetween your thighs, made your nipples noticably hard, and zyo admires the sight.

"good girl, now touch them for me, like i'm the one grabbing them."

you grip both breasts in your hands and let out a cool sigh, squeezing them tight. "they're so sensitive," you giggle soft, rubbing circles on your hard nipples for zyo.

it was her turn to squeeze her thighs together and watches the screen with hearts in her eyes. "i bet, they're not sucked on enough," she hums, bringing a hand down her stomach, while spreading her thighs carefully.

you decide to be brave, and bring one of your nipples to your mouth, sucking on the bud, then swirling your tongue around it, the bottom half of your lips showing on camera.

it was the closest zyo has ever been to seeing your face and she rubs a line in between her covered cunt with a whimper. "fuck, i'll be dreaming of that tongue on my pussy baby."

you giggle and flick your tongue on your nipple more sensually for zyo, then pull away, gripping your now wet tits hard. "you already do that don't you pervert?" you question with a hint of humor in your tone and she giggles. "of course pretty."

"speaking of pretty,, can i see your pretty pussy?" zyo had quite a way with words that had you dripping.

you sit back, making sure your face wasn't in frame still, and peel your soiled panties down your legs teasingly. when you kick them off, your legs get goosebumps and spread wide so she could get a good view.

"mmm i missed that sight, look at it glisten," zyo mumbles while rubbing her covered clit slow so she doesn't cum too fast.

you move your hips around so all your juices hit the light and she groans, sliding off her panties as well.

you watch her fluids slid down to her ass and a hand attaches to your clit quickly, rubbing gentle circles. "your cunt is so messy when you get horny, i love it so much," you moan out while her creamy juices cover her folds. you bite your lip at the thought of licking it all up and begin to rub faster.

"i know how much you love creamy pussies baby girl, it makes you so needy doesn't it?" zyo asks rhetorically and you just moan again in response.

she pays attention to your fast fingers and giggles at the effect she has on you. "what toys did you grab for tonight baby girl?"

you almost got lost in your hand until she brought up toys, and you pick up the new silicon pussy you ordered three days ago. "isn't she beautiful? i haven't tried it out yet," you giggle and rub the toys fake folds in the camera.

zyo cooed at your cool new toy, "it is beautiful, but her name better be zyozyo, i don't want you moaning another womans name." she had a joking, yet serious tone and her possessiveness made your cheeks heat up.

"i named it zyo already don't worry, you're the only name that i scream," you say back and her cheeks turn just as red as yours. "i got lube too, so it's easier to fuck," you pick up a small tube to the camera.

"good girl, i can't wait for you to try it out for me."

her hand goes back to her clit, rubbing circles while you spread the lube on the silicons pussy, making sure zyo watches you slide two fingers inside.

a satisfied smirk spreads on your face when she groans loud at your action, and positon the doll so zyo can see your pussy too.

her eyes watch carefully as you kiss the toys clit with your own, sending shivers through your body. "it feels so real baby," you whimper and zyo slides two fingers inside her cunt when you start rocking your hips.

"that's it, go slowly honey, i don't want you cumming too quickly," zyo mumbles as her fingers pump inside her own pussy with the pace you were moving in.

your eyes glue to the screen to watch zyo fuck herself and the dolls clit flicks with yours. "i kinda want to see you grinding on something as well so i can imagine this toy is your pussy," you giggle breathlessly and quicken your hips at the thought.

zyo pulls her fingers out of her pussy slowly, leaving them drenched in cream, "as my princess wishes," she states, standing up from the storage room floor.

you hear rustling in the background, haulting your movements from curiousity, and a random desk she found, was pushed into frame.

you smile wide at her small frame mounting the surface and she sets down a piece of fabric in front of her. "i think this old uniform will feel better to hump than a polished desk."

"fuck, i love that you'd do anything for me zyo," you whimper as your clit brushes against the slick toy again and she grinds her hips on the rough fabric with a groan. "i would baby girl, you're the only woman i think of all day," she truthfully speaks, making both of your hips move faster.

you move from your sat up position, to hunched over for a harder grind, only the tips of your lips showing on camera, and zyo secretly wished you would show more, even though you both agreed to be anonymous.

"your pussy feels so good against mine pretty girl. i could fuck you like this all day," she moans loud, gripping one of her covered breasts rough.

you whine at her words and speed up more, the toys skin slapping against your thighs audibly. "mmm zyo,,, can you hear our juices rubbing against each other?"

"yes baby, it sounds so sexy. you're always dripping wet for me. my pussy is on your mind 24/7."

the thing is, she isn't wrong, even at work you notice your mind drifting to the sight of her on your laptop screen, fucking her cunt with a dildo.

you slap one of your nipples, a loud slap echoing through the room.

unintentionally, the both of you match paces as your pussies grind hard, also both imagining it was each others. "i know you're close princess, you get quiet when you're close."

you moan and watch her hips more intensely, a big wet spot on the grey outfit, she glided her folds across. "i-i am close, so fucking close,," you whimper while speaking and her breathing fastens. "i am too baby, your pussy just feels so good, i can't keep it in," zyo groans low, her eyes never leaving your screen.

you yelp and lift your hips up as a clear liquid escapes your clenching hole. you rub your clit with your hand now and watch more liquid flowing out of you.

zyo bangs her pussy against the desk while you squirt for the first time, and she squeezes her thighs, the cream she held in, also flowing out of her. "fuuuuck" she yells and her hips slow when the orgasm comes down.

you look at your now soaked sheets, and zyo breathlessly giggles, "i didn't know you could squirt princess." you giggle back and rub the squirt that landed on your stomach, "i didn't know i could either."

"point the camera to your sheets," zyo requests and you do as she says, turning the laptop camera to your thighs. "wow, it's a lot too, i'm proud of you baby girl."

you blush at her praise and see her standing from the desk, "show me the outfit, i know you creamed on it a lot," you smile, and move the silicon toy away so you could sit down.

zyo brings the outfit close to the camera and giggles at her mess, but you squint your eyes at the name tag.

"zyo,,, you work there?"

"yes, but don't worry, i was sent in here to throw this all away, so i didn't cum on someone's uniform." she had a giggle, but your heart races, and lips stay pressed together. "are you okay honey?"

"it's just,, i work there too,," you finally breath out, a million questions running through your mind.

"okay,, on the count of three, we'll show our faces,," zyo chokes out, scared of who she'll see.

"1,,, 2,,, 3,,,,,"

you move the camera to your faces at the same time, and see the beautiful woman, jihyo, you bumped into, only a few hours ago.

"it's been you this whole time Y/N?" you were in a state of shock and jihyo's face had uncertainty written all over it.

you tuck a loose strand of hair behind your hair awkwardly, then bite your bottom lip. you were terrified the only thing that makes you truly happy will end in a second.

"you bumped into me earlier, i remember it. sorry if i was mean, i was upset the boss told me to stay later, and didn't want to meet our session," jihyo blushes when she reminisces on the interaction from earlier.

"it's okay,,, i bumped into you because i was trying to make it to our session in time," you giggle soft, "i did stare at your ass while you walked away though,,"

jihyo gasps in a overly dramatic way, "i told you not to stare at other woman," she laughs and you shrug, "strangely, you were the only persons ass i stared at, it's like the universe wanted me to stare. also, you know i like getting yelled at, so it's your fault."

"so,, does this change anything? should we ignore each other in real life and just leave our relationship for cyber space?" you become serious and chew on the inside of your lip, hoping she'd deny the idea.

Jihyo had spent the last hour nursing a glass of red wine she had no intention of finishing, her eyes fixed on the entrance. She had spent sixty years living off hospital grade blood bags—cold, metallic, and utterly soul-dead.

Then Momo walked in.

Momo wasn’t just pretty; she was radiant. She wore a silk slip dress that clung to her curves like a second skin, her dark hair tossed over one shoulder.

“Jihyo?” Momo’s voice was a soft, melodic chime. She sat down, and the scent of her hit Jihyo like a physical blow.

“You’re even more beautiful than your profile,” Jihyo said, her voice dropping an octave. She was trying to be charming, but her predatory instincts were screaming.

Momo giggled, her hand accidentally brushing Jihyo’s forearm. “And you’re... wow. You’re like a statue. Are you always this cold, or am I just that nervous?”

“I’ve been told I have a low body temperature,” Jihyo lied smoothly, though her skin burned where Momo touched her.

The flirting was effortless. Momo was laughing at Jihyo’s dry wit and leaning into her space until their knees were locked under the table.

By the time they finished their second round of drinks, the air between them was electric.

“I don’t usually do this on a first date,” Momo whispered, her eyes dark with a very human hunger as she looked at Jihyo’s mouth. “But I don’t want to go home alone tonight.”

“Neither do I,” Jihyo rasped.

The hotel suite was a blur of gold light and hushed expensive carpets. The moment the door clicked shut, Momo was all over her. She was a tactile hurricane, her hands sliding under Jihyo’s top, her lips pressing feverish, wet kisses along Jihyo’s jawline.

“God, you’re so cold,” Momo moaned against her skin, her hands wandering lower. “It feels so good. I’m burning up.”

Jihyo’s conscience finally slammed the brakes. The hunger in her throat was becoming unbearable; the scent of Momo’s veins was a siren song she couldn’t ignore if this went any further.

She grabbed Momo’s wrists, pinning them gently but firmly away from her body.

“Wait,” Jihyo panted, her eyes flickering. “Momo, stop. I have to... I have to tell you something. I can’t just take you like this.”

Momo blinked, her lips swollen and her hair a mess. “What? If you have a girlfriend or something, I don’t care, I—”

“It’s not that.” Jihyo stepped back, her chest heaving. She looked at Momo, her heart—or what was left of it—aching. “I’m not what you think I am. This... this body, this face... it’s a mask. I’m a monster, Momo. I live on blood. I’ve lived for centuries. If I touch you the way I want to, I might not be able to stop.”

Momo stared at her for a long beat. Then, she let out a sharp, incredulous laugh. “A vampire? Seriously? Jihyo, you’ve had too much wine.”

“I’m serious,” Jihyo hissed, her frustration mounting. “I haven’t fed from a human in sixty years. I am starving, and you are... you’re everything I shouldn’t have.”

Momo rolled her eyes, stepping back into Jihyo’s space, her hands reaching out to grab Jihyo’s lapels. “Hell nah. You’re just trying to get out of this because you’re scared of how much I like you. If you’re a monster, then prove it. Show me your fangs. Otherwise, shut up and kiss me.”

Jihyo’s control snapped. The insult to her nature, combined with the sheer, arrogant heat of Momo’s body, was the final straw.

“Fine,” Jihyo growled, her voice turning into something primal.

She grabbed Momo’s waist and slammed her back against the suite’s heavy oak door. Her face transformed—her pupils flooding her eyes until they were red, her gums aching as her fangs finally, violently dropped.

She tilted Momo’s head back with a rough hand, exposing the pale, throbbing line of her throat.

Momo’s breath hitched, her eyes widening as she felt the sharp, cold points of Jihyo’s teeth graze the skin over her pulse.

She didn’t scream. She didn’t run. A low, needy whine escaped her as she felt the true, terrifying power in Jihyo’s grip.

“Is this proof enough for you?” Jihyo rasped against her skin.

“Yes,” Momo gasped, her legs instinctively hooking around Jihyo’s waist, her hands clawing at Jihyo’s back. “Now... bite me.”

“You asked for this,” Jihyo whispered, her voice vibrating against Momo’s skin.

She didn’t bite—not yet. She let her fangs graze the surface, a sharp, stinging tease that made Momo’s toes curl.

Momo let out a broken sound, her hands fumbling with the buttons of Jihyo’s shirt. “Stop... stop talking and just do it,” she panted, her bravado finally melting into pure, unadulterated need. “Please, Jihyo.”

Jihyo lunged.

The bite was quick and precise, a sharp puncture that made Momo gasp—not in pain, but in a shock of pure, white-hot pleasure.

Jihyo was lost. The first taste of fresh, warm blood after sixty years of starvation was like a dam breaking. She drank greedily, her throat working as she swallowed, her mind going dark.

Jihyo pulled back just enough to look at her, her lips stained a deep, terrifying crimson. Her eyes were pure black, reflecting nothing but Momo’s flushed, desperate face. She looked like a god, and Momo looked like her willing sacrifice.

“I told you I wouldn’t be able to stop,” Jihyo rasped, her thumb wiping a stray drop of blood.

Momo reached up, her fingers trembling as she traced Jihyo’s sharp fangs. “Then dont stop. Take all of it. I’m yours.”

Jihyo didn’t need to be told twice. She scooped Momo up, the girl feeling weightless in her supernatural grip, and carried her toward the massive hotel bed.

Jihyo dropped Momo onto the center of the mattress. Momo’s chest heaving, the silk of her dress hiked up to her hips. Her skin was flushed a deep, feverish pink, the two small puncture wounds on her neck weeping a tiny, glittering trail of red.

She felt lightheaded, her thoughts swirling in the euphoric haze, but her body had never felt more awake.

Jihyo crawled over her. She pinned Momo’s wrists above her head with one hand, her grip like iron bands. She buried her face in the sensitive crook of Momo’s shoulder, her breath coming in hot, ragged hitches.

“You’re shaking,” Jihyo growled, the sound vibrating deep in her chest.

“I'm... I’m hungry too,” Momo gasped, her hips bucking up instinctively, seeking the friction of Jihyo’s weight.

Jihyo let out a low, dark chuckle. Her cold hands roaming over Momo’s thighs. She trailed wet, stinging nips along the inside of Momo’s collarbone, her tongue darting out to taste the salt and heat of her skin.

Momo was whining every time Jihyo’s teeth grazed a new patch of skin. She wanted the bite again. She wanted the sting.

“Jihyo, please,” Momo begged, her back arching off the bed. Her fingers clawed at the sheets, bunching the expensive fabric into knots. “I can’t... it’s too much. Give me more.”

Jihyo didn’t speak. She let her actions do the talking. She moved lower, her fingers teasing at the edge of Momo’s underwear, her eyes never leaving Momo’s face.

She watched the way Momo’s eyes rolled back, the way her lips parted in a silent scream. She wanted to memorize the way Momo’s body reacted to her—not just the blood, but the touch.

Momo’s begging was the sweetest symphony Jihyo had ever heard. Her thighs trembled as Jihyo’s cold fingers hooked into the silk of her panties, peeling them away like unwrapping a gift she’d waited centuries to claim.

Jihyo pressed her mouth to Momo’s inner thigh, leaving a trail of cold, wet kisses along the tender skin. “Spread wider for me,” Jihyo commanded, her voice guttural and dark.

Momo obeyed without hesitation. She hooked her arms under her knees and pulled them back, fully exposing herself to Jihyo’s hungry gaze. She felt completely bare—physically, emotionally. The cool air of the room caressed her most intimate parts, but she didn’t feel cold.

Jihyo felt her control snap. The sight of Momo open and willing, her sex glistening with need, was more than she could handle. She’d waited sixty years for this moment, and suddenly she felt like a starving animal.

Jihyo descended on Momo. She didn’t lick or tease—she devoured. She spread Momo’s folds with her thumbs, exposing her clit, and latched onto it like a starving woman at a feast.

Momo cried out, her back arching so hard it hurt. But Jihyo didn’t care. She sucked and nibbled on Momo’s sensitive bud like it was the most delicious fruit she’d ever tasted.

“Jihyo—!” Momo screamed, her fingers fisting in Jihyo's long dark hair. “I’m gonna— oh fuck, I’m gonna come just from your—”

Momo’s screams echoed off the walls as she came harder than she ever had in her life. Her hips jerked uncontrollably, grinding her pussy against Jihyo’s merciless mouth. Tears streamed down her face, her vision blurring as white-hot pleasure overwhelmed her senses.

Jihyo didn’t stop. She kept lapping at Momo’s trembling entrance, drinking her release like fine wine. When Momo tried to pull away, overwhelmed, Jihyo’s hands pressed her thighs down harder.

“No—” Momo whimpered, her voice breaking. “Please, I can’t— another one, I can’t—”

“You can,” Jihyo’s voice was a low thrum against Momo’s overheated skin. “And you will.”

She shifted, sliding two cold fingers into Momo’s dripping wetness without warning. They curled upward, pressing against a spot that made Momo sob aloud. Her thumb found Momo’s clit again, rubbing tight, perfect circles.

“Jihyo, I’m not—”

“You’re not what?” Jihyo murmured, her fingers pumping steadily, her thumb relentless. “You’re not ready for another? But your body says otherwise.” She added a third finger, stretching Momo deliciously. “Look at how wet you are. Look at how you’re clenching around me.”

Momo couldn’t look. Her thighs began quivering, her walls fluttering around Jihyo’s fingers as another orgasm built rapidly inside her. Her eyes rolled back, her lips parting in soundless screams.

“Too much,” she choked out, her body straining toward release while also trying to escape it. “Please, Jihyo, I’m begging you.”

Jihyo’s cold fingers curled inside her, hitting that spot again. “Begging for what? More?” Her thumb pressed down hard on Momo’s clit, grinding it mercilessly. “Or begging me to stop?”

Momo’s breath came out in broken, desperate gasps. She didn’t know anymore. The pleasure was too intense, too overwhelming—her body was a live wire sparking out of control.

“Both—” she cried. “I don’t know! Keep going, I beg you, stop, I can’t—”

The confession only made Jihyo smile.

“Poor baby,” Jihyo cooed mockingly, her fingers moving faster, deeper. “You want me to stop giving you what you obviously want?” She leaned down, her cold breath ghosting over Momo’s red, swollen clit.

“Or do you want me to keep going until you break? Until you come so many times you pass out?” Jihyo’s lips brushed against Momo’s clit, her fingers curling inside her. “Answer me truthfully, Momo. What do you want?”

Momo’s body shuddered uncontrollably. She was past thinking rationally. Her hands flew to Jihyo’s hair, gripping it tightly as she pulled her face harder against her pussy. “I want... I want you to keep going,” she confessed hoarsely. “I want you to—”

“To what?” Jihyo prompted darkly, sucking Momo’s clit into her mouth. “Make you come until you can’t speak? Until you’re a limp, satisfied mess? Until you’re so sensitive you can’t stand anything touching your pussy?”

“Say it, Momo,” Jihyo ordered, her fingers pumping furiously. “Tell me exactly what you want me to do to your needy little cunt.”

Momo’s head thrashed from side to side, her moans getting higher and more desperate. She’d never been talked to like this before—never been so completely dominated. It made her even wetter, if that was possible.

“I want—” she sobbed, her thighs shaking violently. “I want you to ruin me. I want you to make me come so hard I—”

“So hard you what?” Jihyo’s cold tongue lashed against Momo’s clit as she added a fourth finger, stretching Momo's entrance wide. “So hard you forget your own name? So hard you spray all over my face” She bit down gently on Momo’s inner thigh. “So hard you can’t walk tomorrow?”

Momo’s hips thrust up violently at the biting sensation, her pussy gripping Jihyo’s fingers so hard she thought she’d break them. “All of that!” she screamed. “Just fucking do it! Make me come so hard I can’t even see!”

Jihyo’s dark laugh vibrated against Momo’s sensitive flesh. “That’s my girl.”

Momo’s world exploded. Her internal muscles clamped around Jihyo’s hand in a series of violent, rhythmic pulses.

“You’re a mess,” Jihyo whispered against her temple, her voice back to that smooth, velvet rasp. She pulled the heavy duvet over both of them, cocooning Momo.