A collection of girl group smuts x male reader. Some one-shots, others sequels. [18+]
This is a work of fiction and thus, all characters depicted should be treated as such.
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"Thanks for letting me come over. Um—" Jang Gyuri touches her index fingers together, cheeks burning red from shyness, while she walks around the dumpster house that is your living room. She tiptoes around the filthy junkyard that is your apartment, avoiding the soda puddles and junk food scraps that lie in the open for ants to scrap. "Sorry for ruining your Saturday night. I promise, this wasn't how I wanted to spend my Saturday night either."
God. You feel just as embarrassed, if not more than she does.
Sometimes, you forget that Gyuri is an idol, a celebrity, a larger than life figure in the eyes of the general public. It's almost like you're ruining her image by her simply being there — a dirty, unclean apartment that belongs to someone barely hanging on financially. Thank goodness it's on the sixth floor of a random building placed in a random place in the city. You'd drop to your knees in complete shame should those Dispatch cameras find someone like her hanging around a 'peasant' like you.
Marie Kondo will probably file a lawsuit against you if she sees how awful your flat looks.
Though she might be larger than life, Gyuri is still your friend — even if you don't communicate as much because of her idol schedules anymore. So when she called you an hour earlier asking for your place, you didn't hesitate in the slightest to offer yours. She confided in you the most and would share her feelings and ask for your comfort. There's something she sees in you that she'd look for you for support rather than with her members.
"Sure, anything for my friend," you say cheerfully while you hurriedly dust and sweep the floor — as if she didn't give you an hour's headstart when she sent that text. She doesn't appear bothered by it, but man, it makes you look apathetic when she's dressed like a star in contrast to your simple homely shirt and shorts.
"Do you want anything? Food? Drinks? I still have some lasagna and chicken—"
"It's okay." Gyuri lifts her hand in refusal, flashing a cute, humble smile at you and presenting her trademark eye smile. "No need to make me feel any better; you've already done more than enough by letting me in. I'll just watch TV and sleep on the couch."
You're worried. Her tone sounds so gloomy and downcast. A few times in the past she's called you over the phone to express her problems, but this is different. There has to be a reason why she personally wanted to see you, but you don't know what it might be.
Putting down your broom and dustpan, you approach her casually laying on the sofa. She casually kicks off her heels to free her congested feet.
"Is everything okay?" you ask. "What happened?"
She tilts her eyes up from the screen toward yours, curling her lips in a grumpy, sour expression. "What happened? Oh, it's nothing. You don't need to hear it."
Strange. She would immediately spill the tea whenever you asked. Whatever it is, she must have been deeply hurt by it.
"I'm your friend, Gyul." Drop to your knees to lower yourself to her level. "Whatever it is, I won't ever tell anyone. Only I would know how you truly feel."
