Untitled

The doors glide open straight into your suite - no hallway, no buffer. That’s the kind of place this is. Forty-two floors up, with a private elevator that answers only to you, and floor-to-ceiling windows framing a city that feels curated for your view. You’re standing in the bedroom doorway, halfway through buttoning your shirt, fingers lingering on the third button, when you hear footsteps on marble in a place where you’re supposed to be alone.

Two girls stride out of your elevator like they own the entire building.

You lift an eyebrow. “…How exactly did you two get in here?”

The taller girl moves in first, posture unshaken, like self-doubt has never been part of her vocabulary. Her shoulders are squared, chin angled with precise control - refined, yet quietly intimidating. “I’m An Yujin,” she says, holding out her hand.

You shake it. Her grip is firm, unwavering

The other one, a few centimeters shorter, shifts the briefcases to one hand and gives a small bow that's almost endearing in how formal it is. "Naoi Rei. Pleasure to meet you."

"It was easy to get in here," Yujin continues, already scanning your suite with the casual appraisal of someone who's been inside a lot of expensive rooms. "We can get into anywhere. Think of us like the Men in Black, but without being men."

"And without wearing black," Rei adds, glancing down at her navy blazer.

"Right. We also don't handle UFO events. Or alien immigration. Or memory wiping. Although," Yujin taps her chin, "that last one could be useful sometimes."

You finish buttoning your shirt and fold your arms. "So you have literally nothing in common with the Men in Black."

Yujin pauses. Thinks. "Yeah. That sounded better in my head.”

"My underwear is black, Yujin. That's already a start."

Yujin points at Rei without looking at her. "See? She's committed to the bit. I respect that."

You pinch the bridge of your nose. There are two strangers in your penthouse, one of whom just volunteered information about her underwear, and it's not even noon yet. "Look. As much as I love pretty girls trespassing on my private property, and I want to stress that this is extremely private property, what the hell are you doing here?"

"We're here on behalf of Jang Wonyoung," Yujin says, your eyebrow rises slightly. Now that she's said it, you actually do recognize Yujin. You've seen her at a few events, always orbiting Wonyoung, always laughing too loud at things that probably weren't that funny. Part of the entourage.

"What's this about, exactly?"

Yujin doesn't answer right away. She walks over to your sofa, a twelve-thousand-dollar Italian leather piece you've sat on maybe three times, and drops herself onto it without a shred of hesitation. She crosses her legs and leans back like she's been living here for months. Rei bows slightly, murmurs a quiet "excuse me," and sits down next to her with considerably more grace, placing both briefcases on the coffee table with the care of someone handling evidence.

"So here's the thing," Yujin begins, folding her hands in her lap. "Your relationship with Wonyoung is coming to an end. I'm sorry to be the one to tell you this. Well, actually, I'm not that sorry, because I barely know you. But professionally speaking, I'm sorry."

You stare at her.

"It didn't perform as well as she hoped. There were metrics, projections, social media engagement targets, public perception polling, a whole spreadsheet situation. And the numbers just didn't hit. The relationship underperformed across every key indicator." She shrugs. "In other words, you're a flop, darling."

"Thank you for your kind assessment," you say, the sarcasm obvious in every word. "I bet you love what you do, don’t you?”

"Hey, chill, I'm just the messenger. Think of me as the Hermes of the situation." She wiggles her feet. "My winged sandals are by Prada, though…"

You lean against the wall and try to process this. You knew. Somewhere in the back of your mind, past the optimism and the carefully curated date-night photos and the way she sometimes smiled at you when cameras were around, you knew. The relationship was a strategy from the start, something cooked up between Wonyoung's management team and the political arm of your family. Good optics on both sides. You were useful, and she was beautiful, and for a while that felt like enough.

But you'd been hoping, stupidly maybe, that she'd eventually come around. That the dinners would start feeling real. That the hand-holding would stop being choreographed...

Wonyoung is so goddamn gorgeous she fried your brain.

"She could've at least come and told me herself," you say. "Or called. A text, even. Carrier pigeon. Smoke signal. Anything."

"Wonyoung doesn't have time for that," Yujin says, completely matter-of-fact. "She's a global star. Schedule's packed. And to be blunt with you, she doesn't care enough about the relationship to handle this personally. That's what we're for."

That one stings, but it's not a surprise. You exhale through your teeth. "Fine. I get it. But why both of you? With all due respect, it feels like you’re more here to mess with me than actually handle any legal issue.”

Yujin reaches over and pops open one of the briefcases. Inside, a thick contract sits nestled in foam like it's a piece of jewelry. She slides it toward you across the coffee table. "Part of the original relationship contract included a breakup-sex clause. Section fourteen, subsection C. If one of the involved parties declines to personally fulfill the obligation, a consenting third party may represent them."

You blink. "I do not remember that clause."

"It was in the fine print," Rei says, speaking up with the tone of someone who genuinely finds contract law interesting. "It's always important to read and review every document with a qualified attorney before signing. These things have layers. The legal world is full of traps."

"The little bird is right," Yujin nods sagely. "You really should have had better representation."

You run a hand through your hair and try to assemble the sentence correctly in your head before you say it. "So if I'm understanding this correctly, you two came here to have sex with me. In the name of Wonyoung."

Rei nods. "Yeah, that’s pretty much the idea."

"Sorry, I can't do that. That's unethical. That's professional abuse. You're being exploited. Wonyoung is sending you here to sleep with a stranger because she can't be bothered to handle her own breakup. Do you not see how messed up that is?"

Yujin holds up a finger. "First of all, darling, we read our employment contracts. Every word. Every footnote. Unlike some people in this room." She glances at the breakup contract on the table and back at you. "Second, we're both here willingly. One hundred percent. Nobody's being exploited. This is a task we accepted with full knowledge and enthusiastic consent."

"Then it's fine. You can go home. I'm not going to hold a grudge. I'll survive."

"It's not quite that simple." Yujin uncrosses her legs and leans forward, elbows on her knees. "Our job is to make sure you leave this relationship completely satisfied and without resentment. The goal is to prevent any future public bitterness, accusations, tell-all interviews, leaked texts, the works. Wonyoung's PR team was very specific."

"I promise I won't say a single bad thing about Wonyoung. I never have. I wouldn't."

Rei shakes her head gently. "Unfortunately, a verbal promise doesn't constitute a legal guarantee. You need to fulfill the terms of the contract, or there could be litigation."

"Litigation," you repeat.

"Litigation," she confirms, not blinking.

You take a breath. "Wouldn't it have made way more sense to just put a mutual non-disparagement clause in the contract? No public criticism from either side after the breakup. Done. Simple."

Yujin and Rei look at each other. A beat passes.

"That… would have been better," Yujin admits.

"That would have been much simpler," Rei agrees.

"Honestly, that feels like a plot hole." Yujin scratches behind her ear. "But it is what it is. The contract says what it says. We need to make you cum, man. That's the rule of the game. Them's the terms. You’ll be king for a day, so live it up." She slaps both her thighs and stands up. "Besides, Rei already shaved everything for this occasion. Don't let that effort go to waste."

Rei's cheeks flush a shade of pink that's almost impressive in how fast it appears. "I shaved because I wanted to. It had nothing to do with this!"

"Sure it didn't."

"It didn't…”

You look at the two of them. You're tired. It's not even lunchtime and you've been dumped by proxy, threatened with a lawsuit, and propositioned by two women you met four minutes ago. This is, without question, the last thing you needed today.

But you'd be lying if you said they weren't both stunning. Yujin is tall, almost catching up to your height, with long legs that her tailored slacks do absolutely nothing to hide. Dark hair falls past her shoulders, thick and straight, framing features that seem built for trouble.

Rei is different. Softer. Her face is rounder, her features more delicate, with wide dark eyes that make her look endlessly curious. She's shorter than Yujin by a handful of centimeters, and her frame is slimmer, more compact. Her hair is long and dark, parted neatly, falling past her chest. Something in her reads as gentle and careful, as though she’s constantly anticipating what comes next but keeping that knowledge to herself. The blush is still sitting on her cheeks, making her look even more endearing.

Together, standing in your living room in their formal wear, they look like a legal team that accidentally wandered into a very inappropriate comedy movie.

You sigh. A long, defeated, resigned sigh. "Fine. Let's just get this over with."

Yujin grins and claps her hands together once, all business. "Rei. Open the black briefcase again. Get the contract."

Rei nods, turns to the coffee table, and pops open the latch on the nearest briefcase. The lid flips up, and you all three stare at its contents in a brief moment of shared silence. Inside, nestled in neat little compartments, is a full spread of lace lingerie in various colors, two bottles of lubricant, a silk blindfold, a set of what appear to be very expensive restraints, and a few other items you don't even want to identify right now.

"That's the other briefcase, idiot."

"Both briefcases are black, Yujin!”

"One has a silver clasp and one has a gold clasp. I told you this in the car."

"You told me a lot of things in the car. You talked for forty-five minutes straight about how a hotdog is technically a sandwich."

"Because it is. Open the other one."

Rei closes the sex briefcase with a firm snap and reaches for the second briefcase. This one, mercifully, contains a thick stack of legal documents and a matte black pen. She pulls them out and hands them to Yujin, who fans through the pages with ease before turning the whole thing over to you.

"Sign here." She points. "Here." She flips a page. "And here. This document certifies that we have completed our objective and that you agree to all terms and conditions outlined in the original relationship contract between yourself and Jang Wonyoung." She flips to the last page and taps a highlighted section. "And in case of non-compliance, you will be sued for millions."

"How many millions?"

"Many millions. You’d probably have to sell this place to help cover the costs."

Whatever. You read approximately none of the fine print, which is ironic given the conversation you just had about reading fine print. You scrawl your signature across all three lines, grumbling the entire time about how this is the most absurd Tuesday of your life. You hand the contract back. Yujin slots it into the briefcase with the reverence of someone archiving a sacred text.

"Beautiful. Now." She turns to face you fully, hands on her hips. "Do you have any preferences? Sexually, I mean. We'll do basically anything. I personally won't do anal." She jerks her thumb at Rei. "But maybe this one will. She looks like she'd be quite the little slut given the chance."

Rei's back straightens. "Hey, I am not doing anal. That's too kinky. And filthy..."

"Nobody needs to do anal," you say, rubbing your temples. "I don't need to fuck anyone's ass. Can we just… not talk about asses for a second?"

A silence settles over the three of you. It is, without exaggeration, one of the most awkward silences you have ever experienced. You're standing in your own living room with two women you met less than ten minutes ago, a signed sex contract on the table between you, and absolutely no idea what the appropriate next move is. Do you offer appetizers? Put on music? Is there a Spotify playlist for "breakup sex mandated by your ex-girlfriend's legal team"?

"Do you guys want something to drink?"

Rei perks up instantly. "I want a Coke."

"We're not drinking anything," Yujin cuts in. "You can have a Coke on the way home."

"You said that last time and I didn't get a Coke."

"I forgot. I bought one later."

"You bought Pepsi. I don't like Pepsi."

"They taste the same, Rei."

"They absolutely do not taste the same. Coke is better. It's always been better. It's scientifically proven."

You hold up a hand. "I'll give you a Coke before you leave. I have a whole fridge full."

Rei beams at you like you just promised her a pony. Yujin rolls her eyes and snaps her fingers twice, redirecting the room's energy back to the task at hand.

"We should start. Right now. Before this turns into a beverage debate." She reaches back into the first briefcase, the fun one, and pulls out several sets of lingerie, holding them up for your inspection. A red lace set. A black number with straps that seem architecturally impossible. Something white and sheer that leaves less to the imagination than a clear window. "Which one do you prefer?"

You look at the options. You look at Yujin. You look at Rei. "You don't have to wear any of that. I’m fine."

Yujin's face falls. She stares at the lingerie in her hands, then slowly, mournfully, folds each set and places them back in the briefcase. "I arranged all of this for nothing. I spent an hour picking these out. An hour. At La Perla."

"I'm sure they're very nice."

"They're gorgeous. You have no taste." She closes the briefcase. "Fine, Mr. Vanilla. Let's go."

You lead them down the hallway to your bedroom. It's large, open, and minimal. King bed against one wall, floor-to-ceiling windows on the other, clean surfaces, muted colors.

You turn to face them. "So. How do we start?"

Rei raises a tentative hand, half like she's in a classroom. "Maybe a few kisses? To break the ice?"

Yujin is already unbuttoning her blazer. "You two get started. I'm going to warm up."

You watch her shrug off her jacket and toss it onto a chair. "Why do you need to warm up before sex?"

"To avoid joint problems." She rolls her shoulders in slow circles. "Warming up is a fundamental part of any physical activity, including sex. Especially sex. I don't want to wake up tomorrow with neck pain and a tweaked hip because I went in cold." She drops into a lunge, stretching her right quad with absolute seriousness. "You can’t mess around when it comes to your health.”

You sit on the edge of the bed. Rei sits next to you, close but not quite touching. Her hands rest on her thighs, fingers fidgeting with the hem of her skirt. You look at her, and she gives you a small, shy smile that makes her round cheeks push up slightly.

"I've never seen you before," you say. "Are you new?"

"I started working with Wonyoung pretty recently. This is actually my first time doing something like this." She glances over at Yujin, who is now doing push-ups in her underwear on your bedroom floor. "Yujin is supervising me. She says I need field experience."

"Field experience."

"That's what she calls it."

In the corner, Yujin knocks out another push-up, perfectly controlled. Her arms flex, and her dark hair pools on the floor beneath her. The girl has form; you'll give her that.

You turn back to Rei. "Can I kiss you?"

She nods. Just a small dip of her chin. With her permission, you reach up and cup her face with one hand, your thumb resting just below her cheekbone. She's warm. Her skin is impossibly soft. You lean in and press your lips to hers, gentle, unhurried. Her mouth is full and plush, and there's a faint sweetness there, something glossy and almost fruity. The kiss stays soft for a few seconds before it deepens, just slightly, her lips parting, the tip of her tongue brushing against yours with a tentativeness that's almost careful. Like she's still figuring out how much of herself to give.

When you pull back, you drag your thumb slowly across her lower lip. The gloss smears just slightly.

"You're pretty," you tell her. "Cute, too."

"Thank you." A faint blush creeps up from her neck. "You're very polite. Most guys just skip straight to grabbing."

"I'm a gentleman. For now."

She bites the inside of her cheek, fighting a smile. "Can I take my clothes off now?"

You nod. Rei stands and starts with her blazer, folding it neatly over the back of a chair. You help her with the buttons on her blouse, fingers working down the front while she unzips her skirt and lets it slide down her legs. She steps out of it, and there she is. Black panties. Black bra. Just like she said.

Her body hits different without the corporate layers hiding it. She’s curvy in a way those formal clothes were clearly trying to keep in check. Full hips, a soft waist, thick thighs that brush together when she shifts. Her chest fills out her bra easily. Her face hasn’t changed though - round cheeks, wide brown eyes, lips still faintly smudged from your kiss. That contrast, innocent face and everything beneath it, makes your pulse spike.

You pull her gently back onto the bed and kiss her again, slower this time, your hand sliding to the back of her neck as you ease her down against the mattress. Her hair fans out across your sheets, dark against white. When you settle over her, careful to hold your weight, she looks up at you and there's this brightness in her eyes, something electric and new.

“You’re a really good kisser,” she murmurs. “Even more handsome in person, too.”

"Rei." Yujin's bark comes from the foot of the bed. She's finished her push-ups and is standing there in nothing but a matching navy bra and panties, hands on her hips, a thin sheen of sweat across her collarbones. "Tone it down with the sweet talk. You're here to accomplish a task, not fall in love with the target."

"What happens if she falls in love?" you ask, still hovering over Rei.

"I'll have to kill her."

Rei's eyes go wide.

Yujin holds the serious face for exactly two seconds, then breaks into a grin. "Kidding! But seriously, this is a professional engagement. Keep it professional."

"You just did push-ups on his floor in your underwear, Yujin. How professional is that?"

"Extremely. That was occupational health and safety." Yujin climbs onto the bed, and the mattress dips under her. She's lean and long, toned arms, flat stomach, legs that don't seem to end. She crawls toward you with a confidence that borders on territorial. "Move over, little bird. I want to see if he's really that good."

She grabs your jaw with one hand, not rough but not gentle either, pulls you off Rei and onto your back, and swings a leg over you. Before you can get a single syllable out, she's kissing you. And where Rei was tentative and sweet, Yujin is immediate and aggressive, her mouth hot against yours, her tongue pushing in without asking permission. She kisses like she's trying to win something. You match her energy, one hand gripping her waist, the other sliding up her back, and she makes a small sound of approval against your lips.

When she pulls back, she's slightly breathless. She wipes the corner of her mouth with her thumb and tilts her head, evaluating. "Not bad. Eight out of ten. Room for improvement."

"Tough grader."

"I have standards." She looks down at Rei, who's propped up on her elbows watching the whole thing with mild fascination. Yujin's gaze drags over Rei's body with open appreciation. "She does have a really nice body, though. For someone who only drinks Coke."

"I don't only drink Coke! And I work out."

"When?"

"Sometimes..."

"Wow, that's fucking convincing." Yujin leans down and kisses her. Rei's hand comes up to rest on Yujin's shoulder, and for a moment the two of them are just tangled together on your bed, all lips and skin. Then Yujin pulls away and turns back to you.

"Clothes off. Rei, help me."

They work in tandem. Rei handles the buttons on your shirt while Yujin goes straight for your belt. Your shirt comes off first, and Rei's fingers trail briefly across your chest before she catches herself and pulls back. Your pants follow, Yujin yanking them off your legs with zero ceremony and tossing them somewhere behind her.

Both girls sit back on their heels and look at you. Just your boxer briefs left, and they're not doing a great job of hiding anything.

"Wonyoung picks her boyfriends very well," Yujin says, her gaze traveling across your torso, your arms, down your stomach. "At least she's got good taste in bodies."

Rei's head tilts. "Is it true that you and Wonyoung never actually had sex?"

"Yeah. We kissed a few times, tops. It never went further than that."

Yujin snorts. "That's pathetic."

“Hey, don’t be so harsh,” Rei says.

"No, she's right," you admit. "It was a pathetic relationship. The whole thing was for show."

"Okay, that's enough moping." Yujin flicks your forehead with her finger. "Stop crying. You've got two girls to fuck today. That's a net upgrade from zero. Rei, calm the baby down."

Rei leans over you and starts pressing small, quick kisses all over your face. Forehead. Cheeks. Nose. Chin. The corner of your mouth. Each one leaves a faint lipstick mark on your skin, and she giggles between them. Yujin joins in from the other side, stamping little prints across your jaw and temple.

You can feel them both laughing, their breath warm against your skin, and despite everything, you have to press your lips together to stop yourself from smiling. "Okay. You can stop now,” you say, and they obey, still laughing. “You’re gonna leave me looking like a passport full of stamps.”

Yujin's hand slides south. Her fingers trail down your stomach and settle over the front of your boxer briefs. She palms you through the fabric, and her eyebrows lift, not dramatically, just a little. Her grip adjusts, fingers curling slightly, testing the thickness, the length. You feel yourself twitch against her hand.

Rei reaches over too, her smaller hand pressing against you from the other side, and her lips part just slightly. "It's really big."

"The little bird loves a big cock in her mouth, don't you, Rei?" Yujin squeezes you gently through the cotton, not taking her eyes off Rei's face.

"Maybe..."

Yujin takes Rei's face in her free hand, squishing her cheeks gently between her fingers, and angles her toward you like she's presenting a product. "Look at this adorable little face. These brown eyes. These full lips. Tell me they don't look perfect wrapped around a cock."

The blush on Rei's cheeks darkens, spreading down her neck. She pulls her face free from Yujin's grip. “You’re way more of a slut than I am,” she says flatly.

“Hard disagree,” Yujin shoots back. “That title’s yours.”

“No,” Rei pushes. “You.”

“Still you,” Yujin says.

“Not even close,” Rei pushes back.

They continue this back and forth while their hands work together to tug your boxer briefs down your thighs, over your knees, and off your ankles. Your cock springs free, fully hard, thick and flushed and straining against your stomach.

Both of them go quiet for about half a second.

"Well," Yujin says.

"Yeah," Rei agrees.

Your cock sits between them, heavy and at their complete disposal. Rei makes the first move. Her fingers wrap around the base of your cock, tentative at first, like she's testing the weight of it. Her grip is soft, polite even, and she gives a slow experimental stroke from root to tip. Yujin's hand joins a second later, wrapping around the upper half, and together their fingers overlap and slide in a lazy, uncoordinated rhythm that somehow still feels incredible.

"Okay, he's really hard," Rei murmurs, more to herself than anyone else. Her thumb swipes across the head, spreading the bead of precum that's already gathered there. She watches it with a focus that borders on academic.

"What did you expect? We've been touching him for ten minutes." Yujin adjusts her grip, tighter, more purposeful. She strokes you with a confidence that suggests she's done this more than a few times, her wrist rolling at the top of each stroke. "Rei, match my pace. You're going too slow."

"I'm being gentle."

"He doesn't need gentle. He needs results." They find a rhythm eventually, both hands working you in tandem, Yujin's grip firmer and faster, Rei's softer and more exploratory. The contrast alone is enough to make your hips shift against the mattress. Two different touches, two different temperatures, four hands on you at once. Your cock throbs between their fingers, thick and flushed, and you let your head fall back against the pillow.

Then Yujin leans forward and spits directly onto the head of your cock. A thick, wet strand that rolls down the shaft and over both their fingers. Rei blinks. "Yujin!"

"What? It needs to be wet. I'm providing lubrication. This is a professional service."

Yujin doesn't wait for further commentary. She dips her head and takes you into her mouth, her lips stretching around the tip, her tongue pressing flat against the underside as she slides down. She's sloppy about it on purpose, generating as much spit as possible, pulling back to let long strings of saliva connect her lips to your cock before diving back in. She bobs her head with an efficiency that matches the rest of her personality: fast, aggressive, no wasted motion. Her hand works what her mouth can't reach, twisting on each upstroke.

She pulls off and nudges your cock toward Rei. "Your turn. Show me what you've got, little bird." Rei tucks her hair behind both ears, lowers her head, and takes you in. And immediately goes deeper than Yujin did. Significantly deeper. Her throat opens and your cock slides in past the halfway point, then further, her nose nearly touching your pelvis before she pulls back with a slow, controlled drag. Your stomach clenches. Your fingers grip the sheets.

"What the fuck," Yujin says, watching Rei's throat work.

Rei comes up for air, a thin line of spit trailing from her lower lip. She wipes her chin with the back of her hand. "What?"

"Since when can you do that?"

"I've always been able to do that."

The two alternate. Yujin takes the left side, her tongue tracing the length from base to tip, getting you soaked, spreading spit everywhere with a shamelessness that's almost admirable. Then Rei swallows you deep again, her throat constricting around your shaft, and holds there for a count that makes your toes curl before pulling back.

It's been a long time since anyone has put their mouth on you. Months. Maybe longer. You stayed faithful to Wonyoung through the entire relationship, which in retrospect was probably the stupidest form of loyalty you've ever demonstrated. You very much doubt she showed you the same courtesy, but that's a thought for another day, because right now two beautiful girls are sharing your cock and your brain is having trouble forming complete sentences.

"So," you manage, your breathing a little uneven as Rei takes you deep again. "What do you two usually do when you're not, uh. Working?"

Yujin pulls her mouth off the side of your shaft and gives you a flat look, saliva glossing her chin. "Don't try to engage in personal conversation. This is a professional engagement."

"You're literally licking my dick."

"And it's a perfect dick, by the way. I mean that professionally." She drags her tongue from your balls to the tip in one long stripe. "Professionally perfect. Five stars on the dick Yelp."

Rei surfaces, catching her breath, her lips swollen and shiny. "I like watching anime," she says casually, like she's not kneeling between your legs with your cock an inch from her face. "And I play my Switch 2 a lot. And I listen to music."

"Yeah? Who do you listen to?"

She wraps her hand around you and strokes slowly while she talks, absentminded, like she's forgotten what her hand is doing. "I really like Noah Cyrus. Aphex Twin. Gracie Abrams. Björk. A lot of different stuff."

Yujin groans. "Here we go. She's so performative with this indie shit. She even has a Letterboxd."

"What's wrong with having a Letterboxd?" Rei asks, visibly offended.

"You probably fakelist all those weird movies. There's no way you actually watched Mulholland Drive and understood it.”

"I understood it."

"What's it about then?"

Rei opens her mouth, pauses, then puts your cock back in it instead of answering. A tactical retreat.

"That's what I thought." Yujin grabs a fistful of Rei's hair, gently, and guides her pace. "Stop talking and keep sucking him off. Earn your five stars for best blowjob giver." She leans down and joins her, both their mouths working you simultaneously. Yujin shifts lower, her tongue finding your balls, lapping at them with broad, wet strokes while her hand holds the base of your cock steady. She takes one into her mouth and sucks gently, and you feel it all the way up your spine.

Meanwhile Rei has you deep in her throat again, her nose pressed against your lower stomach, swallowing around you in a way that makes your abs tense involuntarily. She holds there, eyes watering just slightly, then pulls back with a gasp and immediately goes back down.

"She can swallow the whole thing," Yujin observes, pulling off your balls to watch. "She must have sucked a lot of dick to get this good. That's just math."

Rei comes up, flushed. "That's not true. I just have a good throat."

"That's what they all say."

"It's what I say. Because it's true."

"Sure, Rei. And Mulholland Drive makes sense." They both come together at the tip, their tongues meeting around the head of your cock, lapping at it from opposite sides. Rei's tongue slides across the sensitive underside while Yujin circles the ridge, and then their tongues touch, slick and pink, and they kiss over the head of your cock, slow and messy. Yujin bites Rei's lower lip gently before pulling away. Rei's eyes are glazed, her cheeks are red, and there's spit all over her chin.

They pull back. Your cock stands between them, absolutely drenched, twitching against your stomach. Rei leans in one more time and presses a soft, almost tender kiss to the very tip. Just a peck. She looks up at you through her lashes. "Do I deserve five stars?"

"Absolutely,” you reply, sounding slightly breathless. “I'd write a review praising your technique. Detailed. With specific examples."

Her smile is genuine, bright enough to crease her whole face. It’s achingly cute, at odds with her puffed lips and the messy trail of spit and precum glistening on her chin. “That’s so sweet.”

Yujin sits up and wipes her mouth with the back of her hand. "Okay. Enough of the customer satisfaction survey. It's time to put this cock to work." She pats your thigh firmly. "Let's see if it's just for show or if it has some practical use."

"It has practical use,” you inform Yujin.

"We'll be the judges of that." She settles back on her heels and looks at you expectantly. "So who do you want to fuck first?" Before you can answer, Yujin turns her head sharply to the side and sneezes. Hard. She sniffles, blinks, and waves a hand in front of her face. "Sorry. My rhinitis flares up when I give head. Something about the angle." She pinches the bridge of her nose. "I really need to get that deviated septum surgery. I've been putting it off."

"Take your time."

"I'm fine. Answer the question. Who do you want first?"

"I don't mind. Whoever wants to go."

Yujin gestures at Rei with a tilt of her head. "Rei goes first, then. Since she's already head over heels for you."

Rei straightens up, indignant. "I am not head over heels for anyone. I'm just an affectionate person."

"You kissed the tip of his dick like it was a puppy."

"That's just how I am."

"Great. Then you can be very affectionate eating my pussy while he fucks you from behind. Put all that affection to good use." Yujin is already reaching behind her back to unclasp her bra. "Clothes off. Both of us. Let's go." The two of them strip. Yujin's bra comes off first, and her breasts are small but firm, her nipples already stiff. She hooks her thumbs into her panties and peels them down her legs without an ounce of self-consciousness, kicking them off the side of the bed. She's lean all over, slim hips, toned stomach, long legs, with a neat strip of dark hair between her thighs.

Rei takes a little longer. She reaches back and undoes her bra with careful fingers, letting the straps slide down her shoulders before pulling it away. Her breasts are fuller than Yujin's, round and heavy, and they settle against her chest with a softness that makes you stare. She wiggles out of her panties, and true to her earlier claim, she's smooth everywhere. Her hips flare wider than Yujin's, her thighs thicker, her whole body built along softer, rounder lines. She looks like a Renaissance painting someone accidentally dropped into the twenty-first century.

Both of them naked, side by side on your bed, are a sight that your brain is going to be replaying for the rest of your natural life.

Yujin catches you staring. "Have you never seen two naked girls at the same time before?"

"No. Never."

"Seriously? With your money?" She shakes her head with genuine disbelief. "If I had your bank account, my bed would be full of whores every single day. I'd have a subscription service."

"I had a girlfriend."

"You had a business partner. There's a difference." She crawls up the bed and settles against the headboard, sitting upright with her legs parted. She pats the space between them and looks at Rei. "Come on, little bird. Get in position."

Rei gets on all fours. She lowers herself, her elbows resting on the mattress, and settles her face between Yujin's open thighs. Her back arches naturally, pushing her ass up and out toward you. The curve of her spine is ridiculous, dipping down from her shoulders to the swell of her hips, and from this angle you can see everything, the smooth skin between her thighs, the pink of her pussy already glistening. She shifts her knees apart slightly, adjusting, and looks back over her shoulder at you. You're on your knees behind her, your cock still slick and hard, and the two of them are spread out in front of you like something your subconscious could never have conjured on its best night.

You're halfway to lining yourself up when a thought hits you. You pull back slightly. "Wait. Condom. I need a condom."

Yujin doesn't even blink. "Not necessary. We're both clean and on the pill. It's a job requirement. Wonyoung's team is very thorough about health compliance."

Rei turns her head, her cheek resting against Yujin's inner thigh. "We prefer to fuck raw anyway."

Yujin strokes Rei's hair once, almost affectionately. "The little bird is right. Besides, we've already had access to your medical records. Full panel. You're clean too."

You stare at her. "I think it's better if I don't ask how you got access to my medical records."

"Yeah, that would be wise."

You settle back into position behind Rei, your knees sinking into the mattress between her spread thighs. Her ass is pushed up toward you, round and full, and the arch in her lower back deepens the curve of her hips into something that makes your cock twitch. You reach down and run your index and middle fingers together along her entrance, slow, tracing the seam of her. She's soaked. Her lips are plump and pink and slick, and when your fingers drag through the wetness gathered there, she trembles. Not a big shudder, just a fine vibration that runs through her thighs and up her spine. Your fingers slide easily, parting her, feeling the heat radiating off her.

"Please put it in," Rei says, her grip tightening on the sheets near Yujin's hips. "Quickly. Sir."

Yujin's eyebrows shoot up at that. She looks down at Rei, then up at you, and a grin tugs at the corner of her mouth. She says nothing, but the look on her face says plenty. She threads her fingers into Rei's hair and guides her head gently between her legs. "Focus here, little bird. You've got a job to do too."

You take your cock in one hand and press the tip against Rei's entrance. The heat alone is staggering. You push forward, just the head at first, and her body resists for a second before opening around you, tight and slick and deliciously warm. You sink in an inch and stop, letting her adjust. She's so fucking tight it's almost difficult to move. Every fraction you push deeper, her walls grip you, squeeze you, like her body is trying to memorize the shape of you.

Rei exhales shakily into Yujin's thigh. Her fingers curl into the sheets. "My god, his dick..." You give her another inch. Then another. You can feel every ridge of her around you, the wet heat pulling you in, her muscles clenching and releasing in tiny flutters as she stretches to accommodate your thickness. By the time you're halfway inside her, Rei's forehead is pressed against Yujin's pelvis and her breathing has gone shallow and ragged.

"Breathe, Rei," Yujin says from above, her fingers still laced through Rei's hair. "And start licking. Multitask, babe."

Rei lifts her head slightly and lowers her mouth to Yujin's pussy. You watch her tongue extend and make contact, a slow, flat stroke from bottom to top, and Yujin's stomach muscles tighten visibly. Rei licks again, finding her rhythm, her tongue working in careful, measured passes while you continue feeding your cock into her from behind.

"Good girl," Yujin murmurs, and her hips shift against Rei's mouth.

You bottom out. Your hips press flush against Rei's ass, every inch of you buried inside her, and the sensation is so overwhelming that you have to hold still for a moment and just breathe. She's tight and hot and wet and alive around you, her walls pulsing, adjusting, gripping. You pull back slowly, watching your cock slide out of her, glistening, before pushing back in with a long, steady stroke. Rei gasps against Yujin's pussy, and you feel the vibration of it through your own body somehow.

You set a slow pace. There's no rush. Each thrust is full and deep, pulling almost all the way out before sinking back in to the base, and you savor every single second of it. The way her body yields to you, the wet friction, the obscene sound of skin meeting skin. You grip Rei's hips with both hands, thumbs pressing into the soft flesh above her ass, and use that leverage to control the depth and angle of each stroke. Her ass ripples slightly every time your hips connect, and the sight of it alone is enough to keep you hard for the rest of the afternoon.

Your eyes lift from Rei's back and find Yujin's. She's sitting against the headboard, legs spread wide, Rei's face buried between them, and she's looking right at you. Not at Rei. Not at the ceiling. At you. Those dark eyes are half-lidded and sharp at the same time, full of something that isn't quite challenge and isn't quite invitation but sits in that dangerous space between the two. She bites her lower lip, slow, letting her teeth drag across the pink of it, and holds your gaze.

"You look good like that," she says. "Behind her. Holding her hips. All that control." Her chin dips slightly. "It suits you."

You thrust into Rei again, unhurried, and watch Yujin's expression flicker as Rei moans against her. "You look pretty good yourself. Legs spread. Holding her hair while she eats your pussy." You push in deep and hold there, grinding slightly, and Rei whimpers. "Speaking of which. How's she doing down there?"

Yujin's breath catches. A low, unguarded moan slips out of her before she can stop it. She recovers quickly, tipping her head back against the headboard. "Pretty good. The little bird has a very skillful tongue. I'll give her that."

"I know. I just had that mouth on my cock. She's talented."

"Mm. Multi-talented." Yujin's hips roll forward against Rei's face, a slow, grinding motion she's clearly trying to keep subtle and failing. Her fingers tighten in Rei's hair. "She's doing this thing right now with the tip of her tongue that's... yeah. That's really good."

You pull back and thrust into Rei harder. Not brutal, but firm enough that the impact travels through her entire body, pushes her face deeper between Yujin's legs. Rei moans, a muffled, desperate sound that vibrates directly against Yujin's clit, and Yujin's thighs clamp around Rei's head for a split second before she forces them open again.

"Fuck," Yujin breathes. "Do that again."

You do it again. A deep, intentional thrust that buries you to the hilt inside Rei, and her whole body rocks forward. She moans louder this time, the sound smothered by Yujin's pussy, and you can see the effect it has in real time: Yujin's stomach flexing, her toes curling against the sheets, her fingers pulling Rei's hair tighter.

"You're using her as a vibrator," Yujin says, and there's a breathlessness in the way she says it that wasn't there before. "That's very resourceful."

"I'm a problem solver."

Rei pulls her head up just long enough to gasp for air, her chin slick, her lips swollen and shiny. "You two are going to break me and I haven't even been here an hour." She sounds wrecked already, her eyes glassy, her cheeks flushed so deep they're almost red.

"Get back to work," Yujin says, pressing Rei's head back down. "You're on the clock."

You settle into a rhythm. Each stroke is measured and full, your hips meeting Rei's ass with a steady, wet impact that echoes off the bedroom walls. You're not rushing. You're not chasing anything. You're just enjoying the feel of her, tight and slick and trembling around you, and the view in front of you is so fucking good it almost doesn't feel real. Rei's back, arched and glistening with the faintest sheen of sweat. Her ass, round and pushed back against you, taking every inch of you like she was built for it. And beyond her, Yujin, watching you with those dark, sharp eyes, her chest rising and falling a little faster than she'd probably like to admit.

You change the angle slightly, tilting your hips upward on the next thrust, and Rei's entire body jolts. She pulls off Yujin's pussy and her mouth falls open, a choked, guttural sound pouring out of her that she clearly wasn't expecting. "There," she pants. "Right there. Please."

"You found her spot," Yujin says, looking at you over Rei's trembling body. "You're getting warmer."

You hit the same angle again, a slow grind that presses the head of your cock against that swollen ridge inside her, and Rei's arms give out. Her chest drops to the mattress, her face turning sideways against Yujin's thigh, and her fingers grip Yujin's hips with a desperation that leaves white marks on her skin. You keep going, maintaining that exact angle, that exact pressure, and Rei is falling apart beneath you in a way that's almost too satisfying.

"Use your tongue, Rei," Yujin reminds her, tugging her hair. "Don't forget about me." Rei, with visible effort, turns her head back and buries her face between Yujin's legs again. Her licking is messier now, less precise, all broad strokes and sloppy enthusiasm, but from the way Yujin's abs keep clenching, it's working just fine.

You lean forward slightly, one hand still on Rei's hip, the other bracing on the mattress, and fuck into her with a slow, grinding pace that never lets her catch her breath. Every time you bottom out, you hold there for half a second, letting her feel the full depth of you, before pulling back and doing it again. Rei is shaking. Her thighs are quivering. And the sounds she's making into Yujin's pussy are getting louder, needier, more broken with every thrust.

"She's dripping all over your sheets," Yujin observes, glancing down between Rei's legs. "Absolutely ruining them. I hope you have a good dry cleaner."

"I'll manage."

"You better. Egyptian cotton isn't cheap." Yujin's hips buck forward against Rei's mouth, just once, a sharp involuntary movement she immediately tries to play off by adjusting her position against the headboard. But you saw it. You saw the way her jaw tightened, the way her fingers gripped a fistful of Rei's hair and held on, the way her thighs tensed and trembled for a fraction of a second.

She catches you watching and narrows her eyes. "What?"

"Nothing."

"Stop smiling."

"I'm not smiling."

"You're smiling with your eyes. Stop it." You thrust into Rei again, deep and firm, and the moan Rei produces into Yujin's pussy makes Yujin's head fall back against the headboard with an audible thud. Her eyes flutter shut. Her chest heaves. And for just a moment, the cocky, controlled, chaos-agent exterior cracks, and underneath it there's just a girl getting her pussy eaten really, really well.

She opens her eyes and finds you still looking at her. Something shifts in her expression. Something warm and a little bit dangerous. "Your turn is coming," she says. "And I'm not going to be as easy as she is."

"Looking forward to it."

Rei lifts her head, breathless, chin soaked, and manages to look over her shoulder at you with half-lidded eyes. "Can you go a little harder? Please, sir?" You grab Rei's hips with both hands and give her exactly what she asked for. The pace shifts from slow and teasing to firm, constant, each thrust landing with purpose and weight. Your hips snap forward and drive deep, pulling back just enough to slam home again, and the wet, rhythmic slap of your skin against hers fills the room like a metronome set to filthy. Rei's whole body rocks forward with every stroke, her knees sliding on the sheets, her fingers clawing at whatever she can reach.

You spread her cheeks with both thumbs, pulling them apart, and the view opens up completely. Her pussy stretched around your cock, pink and swollen and glistening, gripping you on every outstroke like she doesn't want to let you go. Her tight little asshole on full display above it, clenching involuntarily every time you bottom out. Everything wet, everything exposed, everything yours to look at while you fuck her at a pace that's making her lose the ability to form thoughts.

"Don't stop," Rei pants into Yujin's thigh, her face turned sideways because she can barely hold herself up anymore. "Please don't stop. Your dick is too fucking good."

Yujin looks down at her with undisguised delight. Her eyes are wide and bright and she's grinning in a way that suggests she's witnessing something she's been waiting to see for a very long time. The sweet Rei. The polite Rei. The girl who watches anime and plays her Switch and listens to Björk and blushes when someone mentions her underwear. That Rei is currently face-down between another girl's legs, getting railed from behind, and begging for more. Yujin reaches down and strokes Rei's hair away from her flushed, sweaty face like she's petting a cat.

"Look at you," Yujin says, and her tone is somewhere between pride and amazement. "Little miss 'I just have a good throat.' Little miss 'I'm just an affectionate person.' You're a complete slut, Rei."

Rei's fingers tighten on Yujin's thigh. Her back arches deeper, pressing her ass harder against you. "I can't help it." Her eyes are squeezed shut and her mouth is hanging open and the flush on her face has spread all the way down her neck to her chest. "His cock is just too fucking good. It's so thick and it's hitting everything and I can't think straight."

You thrust into her hard enough that her body lurches forward and she lets out a sound that's half gasp, half moan, entirely desperate. You bring your hand down on her right ass cheek, a sharp, clean slap that leaves a pink print on her skin and makes her whole body clench around you. The tightness is staggering. You feel it from the tip of your cock to the base of your spine. "Moan for me," you tell her.

Rei's head drops. Her shoulders tremble. And when you thrust into her again, she lets it out, a raw, unfiltered moan that she doesn't even try to contain. It's loud enough to bounce off the walls of your minimalist bedroom, and it's the most genuine sound you've heard all day.

"Yes, daddy!" The word falls out of her mouth like it's been sitting there waiting for permission. "Spank my ass more. Please. Harder."

You slap her left cheek this time, harder, and Rei's pussy clenches so tight around you that your rhythm stutters for a second. Her skin blooms red under your palm and she pushes back against you, grinding herself onto your cock with a desperation that's completely unrecognizable from the shy, formal girl who handed you a briefcase forty minutes ago.

"Again," she begs. "Please, daddy, again."

You give her another one, right across the curve where her ass meets her thigh, and the moan she produces is broken and raw and so loud that Yujin stops even pretending Rei is going to eat her out anymore. Rei's face is buried in the mattress between Yujin's legs, her mouth open, drool soaking into the sheets, and every thrust you deliver makes her entire body shake.

Yujin shifts her position, sliding her back up the headboard so she can see better. She spreads her legs wider, her left hand drifting between her own thighs, two fingers finding her clit and starting to rub in slow, tight circles. Her right hand stays in Rei's hair, gripping loosely, more for contact than control now.

"Fuck her good," Yujin tells you, her fingers picking up speed between her legs. "Harder. Reset her brain. I want to see her forget her own name."

You grab Rei's hips and pull her back onto your cock as you thrust forward, and the collision draws a sound out of her that isn't even a moan anymore, it's just noise, raw and broken and high-pitched. Her hands are fisted in the sheets so hard her knuckles have gone white. Her back is arched so deep her stomach nearly touches the mattress. And she's babbling, a stream of fragmented, barely coherent pleas that tumble out of her in between gasps. "So deep, you're so fucking deep, I can feel you in my stomach, don't stop, please don't stop, daddy, please..."

"She called you daddy," Yujin says, rubbing her clit faster, her chest rising and falling with quickening breaths. "Twice. The sweet little rookie is calling you daddy. This is the best day of my professional career."

You maintain the pace, steady and relentless, your cock driving into Rei with a consistency that never lets her come down. Every time she thinks she's caught her breath, you're already bottoming out again, filling her completely, your hips pressed flush against her ass. The wet sounds between you are constant and obscene, and Rei's pussy is so slick that every thrust produces an audible squelch that would be embarrassing in any other context but right now just makes you fuck her harder.

"I think I'm gonna cum," Rei gasps suddenly, and her whole body goes rigid. Her walls clamp down on you so hard you can barely move. Her thighs are shaking violently, her toes curling, her fingers tearing at the sheets. "Holy shit. Holy shit, I'm going to cum on your dick. I'm going to cum, I can't stop it, it's right there..."

"Cum for me." You grip her hips and keep your pace exactly where it is, deep and firm, hitting that spot inside her with every stroke. "Cum like a good girl."

"Yes, daddy." Her entire body is vibrating. Her head lifts off the mattress and her back arches and her mouth opens and nothing comes out for a second, two seconds, three seconds. "Yes, daddy, I'm cumming, I'm cumming, I'm—"

Yujin exhales sharply, her fingers a blur between her own legs. "Fuck, it's so hot watching her like this. She's completely gone. I'm almost cumming just from looking at her."

Rei's orgasm hits her suddenly and all at once. Her body locks up completely, every muscle tensed, and then she lets out a sharp, sustained moan that breaks in the middle and keeps going. You feel it around your cock, intense rhythmic contractions that squeeze and release, squeeze and release, her pussy pulsing around you in waves. Her thighs clamp against your hips. Her fingers claw the sheets so hard you hear fabric rip. The flush on her skin darkens to a deep, blotchy red that spreads from her cheeks down her neck to her shoulders.

You slow your pace, dragging it out. Long, deep, lazy strokes that keep her trembling, keep the contractions going, coax every last tremor out of her. Every slow thrust draws another whimper from her, smaller now, softer, her body twitching each time you push in. You can feel the aftershocks rippling through her, her walls fluttering weakly around your cock, and the wet heat between you is almost unbearable.

Gradually, Rei's body goes slack. Her knees give out and she melts onto her stomach, sinking into the mattress with the boneless grace of someone whose skeleton has temporarily left the building. She's still shaking, tiny little aftershocks running through her limbs, and her breathing is ragged and uneven. You lean over her, your chest close to her back, and press your lips to her shoulder. She's warm and damp with sweat and she smells faintly like floral fruity perfume and sex.

Rei turns her head on the pillow and looks up at you. Her eyes are glazed. Her lips are parted. Her hair is plastered to her forehead in sweaty strands. And she's smiling. It's the dumbest, happiest, most sex-drunk grin you've ever seen on a human face, the kind of smile that only happens when someone's brain is still rebooting after a catastrophic pleasure event. "I can't believe Wonyoung never tried your cock," she mumbles, still catching her breath. "What a waste. What an absolute waste. She had this the entire time and she never once sat on it."

"Her loss,” you say.

"Her monumental loss." Rei shifts slightly, wincing at the sensitivity, then settles back into the mattress with a contented sigh. "I barely had one orgasm and I already want more. My legs don't work though. Give me a minute."

"Take your time."

"Nope." Yujin is already moving. She crawls across the bed with the energy of someone who's been watching the previews and is ready for the main feature. She nudges Rei's leg out of the way and settles between yours, her fingers wrapping around your cock, still slick and hard and coated in the evidence of Rei's orgasm. She looks at it for a second, appraising, then lowers her mouth and takes you in.

The taste of Rei's cum on your cock makes Yujin hum appreciatively, a low, sustained vibration around your shaft that sends a shockwave through your hips. She sucks slowly, savoring it, her tongue swirling and pressing, cleaning every inch of you with a thoroughness that's almost meditative. She pulls off with a wet sound and licks her lips.

"Tastes so good," she says, stroking you lazily, her thumb smearing Rei's slickness along the shaft. "Like Coke."

From somewhere behind her, Rei grunts. "Stop it!"

A pillow flies across the bed and catches Yujin in the side of the head. She catches it one-handed before it falls, laughing so hard her shoulders shake, and tosses it onto the floor. "Chill! I’m kidding..." She gives your cock one more long, slow lick from base to tip, then releases you and crawls forward, positioning herself above you.

Yujin straddles your hips, her knees on either side of your waist, her hands flat on your chest. She's lean and warm above you, her dark hair hanging around her face, her small breasts catching the light from the windows. Up close, you can see the thin sheen of sweat on her collarbones, the slight flush across her chest, the way her pupils are blown wide despite the composed expression she's wearing. She reaches back with one hand and takes hold of your cock, angling it upward, and you feel the head press against her entrance, hot and slick. She's wetter than she probably wants to admit.

She holds you there, right at the edge, not letting you in. She looks down at you with an expression that's part challenge, part warning. "Let's see what all the fuss is about." She rolls her hips slightly, teasing, the tip of your cock sliding through her wetness without entering. "I should tell you upfront. I'm not easily impressed. Not like Rei."

From across the bed, Rei lifts her head just enough to protest. "I wasn't easily impressed, his dick is just really good."

"You called him daddy within five minutes."

"He earned it." Yujin ignores her. She adjusts her grip on your cock, positions it exactly where she wants it, and locks eyes with you. "Ready?"

"Yes. Let's see if the professional is really that good."

Yujin's eyebrow lifts. A slow, dangerous arch. "Are you challenging me?"

"I am."

She grins. "You just made a very big mistake." She shifts her weight above you, her thighs flexing on either side of your hips. "New rule. Whoever orgasms first loses. And the loser has to fulfill one request from the winner. Anything. No limits, no negotiations, no backing out. Are you in?"

"Yeah, I'm in,” you say, confidently.

"Good." Yujin sinks down onto your cock. Her jaw tightens and her eyes narrow but she doesn't make a sound, taking you inside her with a controlled patience that's almost defiant. She's tight, not as tight as Rei but tight in a different way, her muscles gripping you with an intentional squeeze that tells you she knows exactly what she's doing with her body. When she bottoms out, her ass flush against your thighs, she lets out a single measured breath through her nose and rolls her shoulders.

From the other side of the bed, Rei is lying on her stomach, chin propped on her hands, watching the two of you with the satisfied, dreamy look of someone who just got thoroughly fucked and is now enjoying the show. She catches your eye and gives you a small, conspiratorial nod. "I'm rooting for you."

Yujin's head whips toward her. "Traitor. Traitor to the entire gender. I'm writing you up for this."

"Write me up all you want. I want him to win."

"You've known him for an hour. I expected a bit more from you.” Yujin turns back to you and starts to move. Torturously slow. She lifts her hips until just the head of your cock is inside her, holds there for a count that feels like an eternity, then sinks back down in one fluid, rolling motion. It's sensual in a way that's almost aggressive, every movement calculated to make you feel as much as possible while she gives away nothing. Her stomach flexes. Her thighs tense. She keeps her eyes locked on yours the entire time, watching for any crack in your composure, any twitch, any tell.

"So," she says, rolling her hips in a slow circle that makes your fingers dig into the sheets. "Do you know what you'll ask for? If, hypothetically, by some miracle, you manage to win this bet?"

You look up at her. At both of them. "I wanna get to know you two better. I want to take you both out. Get dinner. actually having a real conversation instead of just this… transactional sex."

Yujin laughs. "A date? That's your big ask? You could ask for anything and you want to take us to dinner?" She shakes her head, still riding you with that agonizing slowness. "Smart aleck. Trying to charm us. Well, it doesn't matter, because you're not going to win. We'll finish the job today and you'll never see either of us again. We serve Wonyoung."

"I can treat you both better than she does,” you argue.

Yujin's rhythm falters for just a fraction of a second. Barely noticeable. She covers it immediately. "Oh yeah?"

"As people. Not tools for her to dispatch whenever she can't be bothered to handle her own life."

The room goes quiet for a beat. Just the wet, slick sound of Yujin moving on you and the soft rustle of sheets. Then she starts bouncing. Properly bouncing, lifting herself up and dropping back down with a snap of her hips that drives your cock deep and draws a sharp exhale from your chest. Her ass connects with your thighs on every downstroke and the impact sends ripples through her body that you can feel in your teeth.

She's good. She's really fucking good. The way she angles her hips, the way she squeezes you at the top of each bounce, the way she uses her weight on the drop. Her ass is incredible, firm and round, and watching it work as she rides you is pure bliss.

"What about you?" you manage, keeping your breathing even through sheer willpower. "What's your request if you win?"

Yujin's grin turns feral. She leans forward, her hands on your chest, her face close to yours. "I'm going to fuck your ass." You swallow hard. "There's a strap-on in the briefcase in the living room. You're going to be my slut." She punctuates this with a hard downward thrust that buries you to the hilt. "I'm going to bend you over this very expensive bed and make you call me mommy."

Across the bed, Rei buries her face in the pillow. Her ears are bright red. You can hear her muffled squeak of shock through the cotton.

You hold Yujin's gaze. You keep your expression perfectly flat, perfectly unbothered, even though she's riding your cock like she's trying to break it. "Then maybe you'd better try harder. I've had better rides from girls before."

Her face changes instantly, the playful confidence slipping away as raw irritation takes its place. Her jaw clenches, her eyes narrow, and she starts riding you harder, slamming herself down with a ferocity that shakes the entire bed frame. Her pace doubles, then triples, her hips working furiously, the wet slap of skin against skin filling the room in a relentless rhythm. She's going to make you cum through sheer force of will and spite, and honestly the strategy isn't bad.

But it's costing her. Her breathing is getting ragged. Short, sharp inhales through her nose, quick exhales through parted lips. And the moans, the ones she's been holding back since this started, are beginning to leak out. Small ones at first, barely more than breathy gasps, but they're growing in volume and frequency with every passing second. Her thighs are trembling. The flush across her chest is deepening. "Rei." Yujin's composure is cracking and she knows it. "Help me. Do something. Get over here."

Rei lifts her head from the pillow and looks at you, questioning. You give her a small nod. It's fine. She crawls across the bed to your side, her body still flushed and marked from her own session, and lowers her mouth to your chest. Her lips close around your left nipple and she sucks gently, her tongue flicking across the sensitive skin, and the added sensation sends a jolt straight down your spine to your cock. Rei's hand rests on your stomach, warm and grounding, and she alternates between soft licks and gentle suction, her eyes closed, completely content in her supporting role.

You place both hands on Yujin's waist. Your thumbs press into the grooves of her hip bones and you guide her rhythm, not changing it, just steadying it, controlling the angle so that every time she drops down your cock hits exactly where it needs to. Yujin lets you, too focused on maintaining her pace to fight the direction, and the adjustment makes her next moan come out louder than the ones before.

You watch her. The way her stomach flexes with every movement. The way her small breasts bounce with each impact. The way her dark hair swings and sticks to the sweat on her neck and shoulders. The way her lips part and her brow furrows with concentration and barely contained pleasure. She's stunning. Absolutely, unreasonably stunning, in a way that's completely different from Rei's softness, all sharp angles and lean muscle and controlled power that's currently losing its grip. "You're gorgeous," you tell her.

Her eyes snap to yours. "What?"

"You're gorgeous. I'm looking at you riding me and you're the most gorgeous thing I've ever seen." Something complicated happens on Yujin's face. She tries to smirk but it comes out uneven, one corner of her mouth lifting while the other trembles. Her rhythm stutters and she has to reset, grinding down on you to find her pace again. "More gorgeous than Wonyoung?"

"Yes. A lot more."

The reaction is subtle but it's there. A softening around her eyes. A looseness in her shoulders that wasn't there before. Her fingers, braced on your chest, press a little harder, like she's anchoring herself to something. She liked it. She liked it a lot, and she's going to go to her grave before she admits that out loud. "You just broke up with your girlfriend," she says, and her attempt at a dismissive tone is undercut by the breathlessness in every syllable, "and you're already hitting on someone else. You're a slut. All men are the same. Every single one."

Rei detaches from your nipple, her chin resting on your chest, and looks up at Yujin with raised eyebrows. "You're being too bratty."

"Excuse me?"

"You heard me." Rei's hand squeezes your stomach once, encouraging. A grin spreads across her face, still loopy from her own orgasm. "Daddy, put her in her place."

You tighten your grip on Yujin's waist. She sees the shift in your expression half a second before she feels it, and her eyes widen just slightly. "Wait, what are you..." You plant your feet flat on the mattress and thrust upward. Hard. A single, powerful stroke that drives your cock deep inside her and lifts her knees off the bed for a fraction of a second. The sound that comes out of Yujin's mouth is loud and unguarded and completely involuntary, a full, open moan that she claps her hand over a second too late.

"Oh fuck," she whispers behind her fingers.

And you don't stop. You grab her hips and start fucking her from below, driving up into her with a pace that's fast and punishing and completely controlled. Every thrust is deep, the kind of deep that makes her stomach clench visibly, and you're not letting her set the rhythm anymore. She's riding you but you're the one in charge now, using your grip on her waist to pull her down onto every upstroke, meeting her body with a force that turns her controlled bouncing into something messy and desperate.

The transformation is immediate. Yujin's hands drop from her face to your chest for stability, her fingers splayed, her nails digging in. Her head falls forward, hair curtaining around her face, and the moans are coming freely now. Real moans. Loud, surprised, helpless moans that she couldn't stop if she tried. Her thighs are shaking against your sides, her abs are twitching, and the wet sounds between you have gotten louder, sloppier, more urgent.

"Oh my god," she breathes, and her hips jerk involuntarily. "How are you... what the fuck, how are you this..."

"This what?" you ask, not slowing down.

She grits her teeth, refusing to finish the sentence, but another deep thrust pulls a whine from her that answers the question anyway. Her back arches and she grinds down onto you, trying to find some control, some leverage, and you give it to her for exactly two seconds before slamming up into her again and watching her composure shatter.

You shift the angle slightly, tilting your hips, and on the next thrust you feel Yujin's entire body seize. Every muscle locks, her nails claw into your chest, and the moan that tears out of her throat is so raw and so loud that it makes Rei's eyebrows shoot up. You found the spot. You keep the angle and fuck into it relentlessly, steady and deep and unforgiving, and Yujin's composure doesn't just crack, it collapses.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," she chants, her head thrown back, her throat exposed, her body bouncing on you helplessly. She's not riding you anymore. She's holding on. "You're so fucking deep, oh my god, you're so fucking deep and hard and I can't..."

She catches herself. Bites down on her lower lip so hard it goes white. Straightens up and plants her hands on your stomach, trying to wrestle back control. Her hips start moving again, grinding in slow circles, and she looks down at you with an expression that's equal parts furious and aroused. "I'm not losing this bet," she says, and the tremble in her thighs says otherwise.

Rei rolls onto her side, propping her head up on one hand, watching Yujin bounce on your cock with the serene satisfaction of someone who already got hers. "You really don't look like someone who's winning, Yujin."

"If I don’t peg his ass," Yujin pants between thrusts, her thighs trembling around your hips, "I'm fucking yours."

"Mm, I don't think so." Rei stretches lazily, running her fingers along the damp sheets. "After daddy makes you cum, you're not going to have the strength to get out of this bed. Trust me. I speak from very recent experience."

Yujin grinds down on you, her jaw tight, sweat rolling down her neck into the valley between her breasts. She shakes her head, stubborn to the bone. "His dick isn't even that good. Very overrated. All this hype for a solid six out of ten at best."

You plant your feet and drive up into her so hard that her hands slip off your chest. Her eyes roll back, her whole body jolting, and the moan that comes out of her is guttural and helpless and completely involuntary. She catches herself with both palms flat on your stomach, fingers splayed, panting, and for a second she just stays there, impaled on you, her brain clearly buffering.

You look at Rei. "Give me some space." Rei scoots back immediately, pulling a pillow with her, settling in cross-legged near the foot of the bed with the eager posture of someone who just got front-row seats to the best show of her life. You turn your attention back to Yujin, who's still trying to reassemble her composure above you. "You sound a lot better moaning than you do talking all that bullshit."

"That's so fucking rude,” she grumbles. “You don't get to tell me when to talk and when to..."

You tighten your grip on her waist. Both hands, firm, fingers digging into the lean muscle of her hips. In one fluid motion, you lift her off your cock, shift your weight, and flip her onto her back on the mattress. The air leaves her lungs in a sharp gasp as her shoulders hit the sheets, her hair fanning out around her head, her legs falling open on either side of you. Before she can process the change in position, you're already between her thighs, one hand pressing her hip into the mattress, the other guiding your cock back inside her. You push in with a single, deep stroke that fills her completely, and Yujin's entire body arches off the bed.

"Oh, fuck—" Now you're on top. Now you're in control. And from the way Yujin's eyes have gone wide and glassy, she knows it too. You set a pace that's fast and hard and unrelenting, your hips slamming into hers with a force that shakes the headboard against the wall.

Each thrust drives deep, bottoming out, and the wet, obscene sound of your cock pounding into her fills the room alongside Yujin's increasingly desperate moaning. Her legs wrap around your waist instinctively, her heels digging into the small of your back, pulling you closer even as her hands push against your chest in a confused, contradictory bid for some kind of control she's already lost.

"You're such a fucking asshole," she spits, but her pussy is clenching around you so tight with every thrust that the insult loses all its teeth. "You absolute piece of shit, you think you're so fucking special because your dick is big and you can last a long time, you arrogant, smug, insufferable..."

"Keep going." You thrust harder, deeper, angling your hips to hit that same spot that made her fall apart earlier. "Every time you insult me, I just want to fuck you harder."

"You're the worst lay I've ever had." Another thrust. She chokes on a moan. "You have no technique. Zero finesse. You're just a rich boy with a big cock and no personality."

"That's a lot of talking for someone who's shaking."

"I'm not shaking." She's shaking. Her entire body is trembling beneath you, her thighs quivering against your ribs, her stomach muscles twitching every time you bottom out. The insults keep coming but they're getting shorter, more fragmented, punctuated by moans she can't swallow anymore.

You bring your right hand up and place it on her throat. Not squeezing. Not choking. Just resting there, your fingers curled around the column of her neck, your thumb against her pulse point, a firm, steady pressure that says everything without applying any real force.

Yujin's reaction is nuclear. Her eyes blow wide, her back arches so sharply that only her shoulders and hips are touching the mattress, and the sound that comes out of her mouth is raw and loud enough to make Rei flinch at the foot of the bed. Her hands fly up and grab your wrist, not to pull your hand away, but to hold it there. Her fingers wrap around your forearm and grip so hard you can feel her nails leaving crescents in your skin.

"Oh my god," she breathes, and her pussy clenches around you so hard your vision blurs for a second. "Oh my fucking god."

"Holy shit," Rei whispers from the foot of the bed. She's sitting forward, her eyes huge, her lips parted, her thighs pressed together. "That's so hot. That's so incredibly hot. Fuck her, daddy. Fuck her harder." You maintain the hand on Yujin's throat and pound into her, your hips relentless, each stroke driving so deep you can feel her cervix, feel the full length of you burying inside her again and again. Yujin's legs tighten around you, her heels locked behind your back, and she's pulling you into her on every thrust, her body working against her brain's protestations.

She's fighting it. You can see the battle playing out in real time on her face, the way she bites her lip, the way she squeezes her eyes shut, the way she tries to slow her own breathing. She's fighting the orgasm with everything she has, refusing to let it happen, refusing to lose. Her jaw is clenched so tight the muscles in her neck cord beneath your palm. "I'm not going to cum," she says through gritted teeth, but it comes out like a plea, not a statement. "I'm not. I refuse. I don't lose. I never lose."

"Cum on his cock, Yujin." Rei has crawled closer now, kneeling beside the two of you, her face flushed, her eyes bright with a wildness that wasn't there an hour ago. "Just let it go. It's going to be the best orgasm of your life. I promise."

"No." Yujin shakes her head against the pillow, her hair sticking to her face. "No, no, no, I'm not going to..." You hit the spot again. Hard. And hold there, grinding the head of your cock against that swollen ridge inside her while your thumb presses just slightly firmer against the side of her throat. Yujin's mouth opens. Her eyes go wide. Her hands fly from your wrist to the sheets, fisting the fabric.

"Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck..." It pours out of her in a continuous, panicked stream, each repetition higher and more desperate than the last. Her hips are bucking up against you, meeting your thrusts with involuntary, frantic movements she's clearly not controlling anymore. The flush on her chest has spread to her face, her neck, her ears. "You're going to make me cum. Damn it. Damn it, you're going to make me cum."

"That's it," Rei breathes, leaning close to Yujin's ear, her hand finding Yujin's thigh and squeezing. "Cum for him. Make her cum, daddy. Fuck it out of her."

Yujin's body goes rigid beneath you. Every muscle locks. Her back arches, her thighs clamp around your waist like a vice, the orgasm hits her and her mouth opens in a scream that your hand on her throat compresses into a strangled, ragged moan, muffled but still audible, still raw, still the loudest thing in the room. You feel it around your cock, a violent, rhythmic clenching that squeezes you in waves, her entire body convulsing beneath you, her hips jerking against yours in uncontrollable spasms. Her eyes are squeezed shut and there are tears at the corners, not from pain, from intensity, from the sheer overwhelming force of what's ripping through her.

You release her throat.

The sound that erupts from Yujin is unholy. A full, unrestricted moan that tears itself from her chest and fills the room, followed immediately by a series of gasped, broken syllables that aren't really words anymore. Her hands fly to your arms, gripping your biceps, and her whole body starts shaking, genuine, full-body tremors that make the bed vibrate beneath you.

"You won." It comes out wrecked, barely intelligible. "Damn it. You won. Fuck. I can't take it anymore. Stop. I can't..."

But you don't stop. You keep the same pace, your cock driving into her still-spasming pussy, and the hypersensitivity hits her like a second wave. Her eyes snap open and they're unfocused, pupils blown, tears tracking down her temples into her hair. Her mouth moves but nothing coherent comes out for a few seconds, just gasps and whimpers and fragments of sounds.

"She can take it." Rei's kneeling beside Yujin with a grin on her face that borders on feral. "She's a slut. Keep going."

"No no no no, fuck, please." Yujin's head thrashes on the pillow, her nails dragging red lines down your arms. "Daddy, no. Please, daddy, stop. You're going to make me cum again if you keep going like this. I can't. My body can't. Please."

That's exactly what you want. You grab her thighs and push them wider, opening her up completely, and fuck into her with everything you have. Deep, hard, constant, targeting that same angle, that same spot, and Yujin's protests dissolve into a continuous, high-pitched moan that climbs in pitch with every thrust. Her hands grab at everything, your arms, the sheets, the pillow behind her head, the headboard. Her body is arching and writhing beneath you, completely out of her own control.

"Fuck, fuck, I'm cumming, oh god I'm cumming again, I can't stop it, it's happe—”

The second orgasm slams into her harder than the first. Yujin screams, a real scream, sharp and loud and broken, and her body bows off the mattress. You feel a sudden rush of warmth around your cock, slick and hot and forceful, and then you see it. She's squirting. A hard, pulsing spray that soaks your stomach, your thighs, the sheets beneath her. It just keeps coming, her pussy clenching and releasing in violent contractions around your cock, each one pushing out another warm jet.

Rei's eyes go enormous. For exactly one second, she stares. Then she moves.

Her hand shoots between Yujin's legs and two fingers find Yujin's clit, exposed and swollen and drenched, and she starts rubbing. Fast. Hard. Aggressive circles with her fingertips pressed flat against the sensitive nub, and the effect is immediate and devastating. Yujin's squirting intensifies, the spray arcing higher, soaking Rei's wrist and forearm, splashing against your abs. Yujin's screams have gone silent, her mouth open, her body locked in a sustained convulsion, only her heels and shoulders touching the bed.

Rei giggles, bright and delighted, watching the chaos Yujin is making with the same breathless fascination as someone mesmerized by a burst of fireworks. "Look at all of that. Look at her go. She's making such a mess." Her fingers don't stop, rubbing Yujin's clit with a relentless enthusiasm that borders on cruel, and every pass of her fingertips draws another gush from Yujin's trembling body. "Come on, Yujin. Give us more. I know you've got more."

Yujin's hand grabs Rei's wrist weakly, trying to push her away, but there's no strength behind it. Her body is spent, wrung out, every muscle exhausted from the sustained intensity of two consecutive orgasms. She's making sounds that aren't moans or screams but something in between, small, broken, hitching gasps, her chest heaving, her stomach flexing with each aftershock.

You pull out. Slow, careful. And as your cock slides free, one last jet of clear fluid pulses from Yujin's swollen, flushed pussy, splashing against your thigh before trailing down between her legs and pooling on the already ruined sheets. Rei finally pulls her hand away, her fingers glistening, and wipes them on the sheet next to Yujin's hip with a casual nonchalance that makes you shake your head.

Yujin lies there. Breathing. Trembling. Her legs are still spread, too heavy to move, and her arms are limp at her sides. Her hair is a dark, tangled mess across the pillow. Her skin is flushed from her face to her navel, blotchy and pink and damp with sweat. Her eyes are closed and her lips are parted and her chest rises and falls in deep, unsteady rhythms that gradually, slowly, begin to even out.

You lean down and press your lips to her cheek. Soft. Unhurried. You can taste the salt of her sweat on her skin. "Looks like I won."

Yujin's arms come up and wrap around your neck. She pulls you down against her, tight, her face burying into the crook of your shoulder. She's holding you like someone who just survived something, her fingers gripping the back of your neck, her body still trembling in small aftershocks against yours. The embrace is fierce and needy and completely at odds with everything she's projected since she walked out of that elevator. You let her hold on. You settle your weight carefully, not crushing her, and let her take what she needs.

Rei tilts her head, watching the two of you with a soft, teasing smile. "Look at that. Daddy softened up the bratty girl."

"Shut up," Yujin mumbles into your shoulder, but there's no harshness in it. There's barely any volume.

You pull away slightly, just enough to meet her gaze. Her eyes are open now, softer, different - no more sharpness. Just a stunned, wide look, like she’s still trying to piece together what just happened. Her lips are swollen and her mascara has smudged slightly at the corners of her eyes and she looks completely, thoroughly, beautifully wrecked.

She grabs the back of your neck with one hand and pulls you down into a kiss. Not teasing, not competitive, not calculated. Hard. Deep. Her mouth opens against yours and she kisses you with a hunger that tastes like surrender, her tongue pressing against yours, her teeth catching your lower lip. Her other hand comes up to cup your jaw, holding you there, and when the kiss finally breaks she doesn't let you pull away. She keeps your face close, her forehead against yours, and brushes her nose against yours. Once. Twice. An almost unbearably tender gesture from someone who, five minutes ago, was calling you every name in the book.

A small, mischievous smile curls the corner of her mouth. Her thumb traces your jawline. "That was the best orgasm of my life," she murmurs, her breath warm against your lips. "Motherfucker. Congratulations."

Yujin turns her head on the pillow and looks at Rei, who's sprawled out on her stomach beside you both, chin resting on her folded arms, looking entirely too pleased with herself. Yujin narrows her eyes. "You were way too harsh on me back there. The little bird has claws."

Rei shrugs one shoulder, not even a little apologetic. "It was really fun. And you had it coming."

"I had it coming?"

"You called me a slut like four times today."

"That's because you are one. But fine." Yujin's mouth twitches. Something almost warm passes through her expression. "I'm proud of you. You were vicious. I respect vicious."

"Thank you. I learned from the best."

"Damn right you did."

You shift onto your side, propping yourself up on one elbow. "So. I won."

Yujin groans and presses the pillow over her face. Her response comes out muffled through Egyptian cotton. "Yes. You won."

"Which means you owe me a date. Both of you."

She pulls the pillow down just enough to glare at you with one eye. "You're going to complicate my life so badly."

"That seems fair. You two showed up at my apartment unannounced, broke up with me on behalf of my fake girlfriend, threatened me with a lawsuit, and then fucked me. I think one dinner is a pretty mild complication by comparison."

Yujin lets the pillow drop and stares at the ceiling. She exhales slowly, her chest still rising and falling a little faster than normal, the flush on her skin only now beginning to fade. "If Wonyoung finds out, Rei and I are done. Not just fired. Done. She's not the forgive-and-forget type."

"She really isn't," Rei agrees, but her tone is remarkably casual for someone discussing career annihilation. She traces a pattern on the sheet with her fingertip.

"I know she isn't," you say. "Wonyoung's petty. Always has been. She wouldn't care that she dumped me. She'd care that you two are seeing me, because in her head, everything that was hers stays hers. Even the stuff she threw away."

Yujin looks over at you, a subtle flash of surprise in her eyes, as though hearing her own thoughts echoed back in a way she didn’t expect. "That's... exactly right, actually. She'd do so much worse than fire us."

"I know. But she's not going to find out anytime soon. And if she does, I'll handle it. That's my problem, not yours." You hold her gaze. "I've dealt with petty rich people my entire life. I come from a family of them. I know how the game works."

Yujin chews the inside of her cheek, considering. She turns to Rei. "What do you think?"

"Yes!" Rei says instantly.

"Girl, I hadn't even finished the question."

"You were going to ask if we should go on the date. The answer is yes. I don't need to think about it."

Yujin squints at her. "Fifteen minutes ago you were a nervous intern who couldn't open the right briefcase. Now you're making life-altering decisions in half a second?"

"I've had a productive afternoon." Rei rolls onto her side to face both of you, tucking one arm under her head. "I thought I admired Wonyoung. Before I started working with her, I really did. She was this incredible, untouchable person and I wanted to be around that." She pauses, picking at a loose thread on the pillowcase. "Then I actually started working with her, and I saw how she treats people behind closed doors. The way she talks about them. The way she throws them away when they stop being useful." Her eyes drift to yours briefly. "My admiration kind of eroded after that."

The room sits with that for a second. Nobody fills the silence.

"Okay." Yujin pushes herself up on her elbows. "One date. Just one. To see how it goes." She points at you with a finger that still isn't entirely steady. "Don't get your hopes up. I just need to add some variety to my life. Everything's been work, Wonyoung, work, Wonyoung, repeat. A girl needs some seasoning."

"Noted. No hopes. Very low expectations."

"Extremely low. Rock bottom. Subterranean."

"Got it."

Yujin shifts her weight and her hand drifts down between you. Her fingers find your cock, still hard, still flushed and thick against your stomach, and she wraps around it loosely. She gives it a slow, lazy stroke, and then stops. She looks down at it. She looks up at you. "You didn't cum."

"Nope."

"How." It's not a question. It's an accusation. She strokes you again, slow, her thumb circling the head, and watches your cock twitch against her palm. "No guy has ever lasted through me riding them. I've broken every man I've been with. Every single one. And you just... sat there and flipped me over and kept going."

"I've always had good stamina." You fold your arms behind your head, casual, even though her hand on your cock is making it hard to project total nonchalance. "I can get pretty competitive sometimes. Especially when someone threatens to peg me."

Yujin's teeth catch her lower lip. She's trying not to smile and failing at it, a slow, reluctant grin spreading across her face that she absolutely cannot contain. Her hand keeps stroking you, absentminded, her fingers exploring your length and girth like she's cataloguing it for future reference. "I like that," she admits. "I like a guy who doesn't fold."

Rei yawns and stretches, her back arching, her body unfurling against the sheets. The movement is lazy but it draws your attention to every curve, every line, the fullness of her thighs, the soft weight of her breasts shifting as she moves. She catches you looking and doesn't shy away from it this time. "Anyway," Rei says, rolling her neck. "This is all very sweet, but I'm still really horny."

Yujin releases your cock and rolls her eyes so hard her whole head moves. "She's insatiable. One orgasm and she turns into a monster."

"Your fault. You brought me here."

"Fine. Since you're so worked up, go ahead and let him fuck your ass then."

Rei pauses. Looks at you. Looks at Yujin. takes one brief, unashamed look down and shrugs. "Okay."

You sit up slightly. "Hold on. I thought anal was too kinky and filthy. Your exact words."

"I changed my mind." Rei says this with the serene conviction of someone announcing they've decided to try a new restaurant. "A girl can change her mind."

Yujin barks out a laugh. "Please. She's always liked anal. The whole innocent act was bullshit. I knew it the second she said it." She gestures at Rei like a prosecutor presenting evidence. "Look at her. That angelic face. Those big brown eyes. That thick ass." She shakes her head. "Anyone with a functioning brain can see that girl loves a cock in her ass. It's practically tattooed on her forehead."

Rei blinks, and for the first time, she looks genuinely caught off guard. "Is it that obvious? Can people actually tell?"

"Rei. Babe. Everyone who has ever looked at you knows immediately."

"Everyone?"

"It's the combination. The sweet princess face and the body that won't quit. It broadcasts a very specific frequency." Yujin swings her legs off the bed and stands, still naked, still glistening faintly with sweat. "I'm getting the lube from the briefcase. Don't start without me."

She pads out of the bedroom on bare feet, moving with the easy confidence of someone who's entirely comfortable being naked in a stranger's penthouse. The view from behind is excellent. Her ass, round, full, juicy and still faintly pink where the sheets creased against her skin, disappears around the corner.

The second Yujin is out of earshot, Rei scoots closer to you. She puts a hand on your chest and leans in, her lips near your ear, she murmurs: "She called you daddy."

You look at her. "I caught that."

"While you were fucking her. Multiple times." Rei pulls back and grins at you, her nose scrunching. "She was begging. Actual begging. 'Daddy please, daddy no, daddy stop.' She's going to pretend it didn't happen."

"Probably."

"She likes to act all tough and unbothered, like nothing gets to her. But she loves being put in her place. She needs it." Rei taps your chest once with her index finger. "She's been waiting for a guy who wouldn't buckle. Every other guy she's been with folded the second she started pushing. You pushed back harder. That broke her brain."

"You figured all that out in one afternoon?"

"I'm observant." Rei smiles, and there's nothing shy about it anymore. "Also, she talks in her sleep during naps at the office. Very revealing stuff."

You hear Yujin's footsteps coming back down the hall. Rei immediately scoots to a respectable distance and adopts an expression of pure, guileless innocence. The transformation is so seamless it's almost frightening. Yujin rounds the corner holding a bottle of high-end lubricant. She tosses it onto the bed, where it bounces once and lands between Rei's knees. Her gaze flicks between the two of you, eyes narrowing.

"You were talking about me."

"We absolutely were not," Rei says, and she sounds so sincere that even you almost believe her.

Yujin stares at her for two full seconds, then decides she doesn't care enough to pursue it. She climbs back onto the bed and grabs Rei's shoulder, spinning her around. "All fours, little bird. Show's about to start."

Rei catches your eye one more time as she moves into position, and the look she gives you is quick and private and full of mischief. Then she turns, plants her hands on the mattress, and arches her back. Yujin pops the cap on the lube with her thumb. She squeezes a generous amount directly onto Rei's ass, a thick, clear line that drips between her cheeks, and then another dollop onto her own palm. She rubs her hands together, warming it up.

"This one heats up," Yujin says, spreading the lube across Rei's skin with slow strokes. Her fingers glide over the curve of Rei's ass, working the slick between her cheeks, coating everything thoroughly. "High-end stuff. Wonyoung's company card paid for it, so you know it's premium."

Rei shivers. Her back dips and her fingers curl into the sheets. "That feels really good. The warming thing is nice."

"Of course it does. You love being pampered." Yujin's thumb traces a slow circle around Rei's tight hole, spreading the lube, not pushing in yet. Just getting her used to the contact. "And your absolute favorite pampering is a thick cock in your ass. Isn't that right?"

Rei presses her face into the mattress and says nothing, which is an answer in itself. You lean back against the headboard, watching Yujin work. Her fingers are careful, attentive, making sure every inch is slick and warm. It's the kind of consideration that comes from actually giving a shit about someone, not from following a job description. "You don't seem like Wonyoung's biggest fan," you say.

Yujin doesn't look up from what she's doing. "Wonyoung is my boss. I do what she tells me to do. End of story."

"I don't know. Seems like there's more to it."

Her fingers pause on Rei's skin for just a fraction of a second. "Who are you, Sherlock Holmes?" She resumes, her thumb pressing gently against Rei's rim, applying just enough pressure to tease without entering. "Put the magnifying glass away."

"Just making conversation."

Yujin stays quiet for a few seconds. The only sounds are Rei's soft breathing and the wet, slick noise of lube being worked into skin. Then, without prompting, Yujin says, "We used to be closer. Me and Wonyoung. It wasn't always a boss-and-employee thing. There was more to it than that."

You wait. Don't push.

"If you're going to ask what happened, don't bother. Better question is what didn't happen." She squeezes more lube onto her fingers and slides one fingertip just barely inside Rei, who exhales slowly and pushes back against the intrusion. "I don't like talking about it. It's boring and depressing and I've spent enough energy on that woman for one lifetime."

The subject closes itself. You let it go. Yujin works her finger deeper into Rei with a patience that borders on surgical, rotating slowly, letting her adjust, and Rei's breathing gradually shifts from tense to steady to something that sounds a lot like enjoyment. She's rocking her hips back in small, barely-there movements, instinctive, chasing the feeling.

After a moment, Yujin speaks again. Quieter this time, her eyes still on her own hand. "Did you mean what you said earlier?"

"About what?"

"That I'm prettier than Wonyoung."

There it is. Past all the attitude, the sarcasm, the Theatrical indifference - this. A question she couldn't bury, surfacing again the moment she convinced herself enough time had gone by to make it seem offhand. "Yeah. I meant it."

"Why, though?" She adds a second finger alongside the first, scissoring gently, stretching Rei open. Rei whimpers into the mattress, her toes curling. "Wonyoung is one of the most beautiful women on the planet. That's not even an opinion. There are rankings."

“Rankings are bullshit.” You keep your eyes on her. “There’s something in your eyes, Yujin. The way you look at people, the way you talk, even when you’re being a pain in the ass. There’s a spark there. You feel… I don't know, alive? Present?” You pause, choosing your words. “Wonyoung’s stunning, yeah, but she’s like a photograph. Perfect, but still. You’re not. You’re always moving. That’s why it’s so hard to look away from you.”

Yujin's hand goes still inside Rei. For a couple of seconds she just stares at you, and something passes across her face that she doesn't manage to hide in time. Her throat bobs with a swallow. Then she blinks, resets, and the classic Yujin is back, smooth as ever. "Jesus Christ." She looks away, her mouth twitching. "You could've just said I'm hotter than her. You didn't need to write a whole TED Talk about my eyes."

"That too. You're way hotter than her."

"Obviously." She pulls her fingers out of Rei and wipes them on the sheet. The flush on her cheeks has nothing to do with exertion. She slaps Rei's ass with a crisp, ringing smack that makes Rei yelp. "She's ready. All warmed up and stretched. Now all that's missing is your dick."

Yujin turns to you, grabs your cock, and squeezes the bottle directly onto the shaft. The lube is warm, almost hot, and it runs down your length in thick rivulets. She strokes you with both hands, one twisting at the base while the other slides up and over the head, spreading the slickness everywhere, making sure every inch is coated. "You're not small," she says, matter-of-fact, her fist gliding up your lubed shaft. "So go slow or you'll break her."

"I'm right here," Rei says from all fours, looking back over her shoulder. "And I'm not fragile."

"Your ass is about to have a very different opinion on that."

Yujin gives your cock one final stroke, root to tip, and releases it. She wipes her hands on the sheets, already ruined beyond salvation, and scoots to the side, settling into a cross-legged position near the pillows with a clear sightline to the action. Supervising.

You move behind Rei. She's on her hands and knees, her back arched, her ass pushed up and out toward you. The lube is everywhere, glossy and warm, catching the light from the windows. Her hole is slick and relaxed from Yujin's prep work, pink and tight and glistening. You run one hand up the back of her thigh, over the swell of her ass, and she pushes back against your touch, eager.

You grip the base of your cock and press the head against her. The contact alone makes her tense, a reflexive clench that tightens everything, and you hold still. Just the tip against her, not pushing, letting the warmth of the lube and the pressure do the work.

"I'm going to start. Tell me if you need me to stop."

Rei nods. Her fingers are bunched in the sheets, her head hanging between her shoulders. "Go ahead."

You push forward. Gentle. Steady. The head of your cock presses against her ring and meets resistance, firm and tight, her body instinctively clenching against the intrusion. You hold the pressure, not forcing, just a constant forward push, and after a few seconds you feel her start to relax. The muscle yields, slowly, incrementally, and the head slips inside.

Rei sucks in a sharp breath through her teeth. Her back goes rigid and her knuckles go white in the sheets. She's impossibly tight around you, her ass gripping the head of your cock with a pressure that's almost painful, hot and slick from the lube but so constricting it takes genuine effort not to just shove forward.

"Breathe," Yujin says from her perch near the pillows. She's watching with her head tilted, clinical and attentive. "Don't tense up. Push out, not in. Let him in."

Rei exhales slowly. You feel the shift, a conscious relaxation that eases the grip around you just enough to move. You push another inch inside her and Rei's mouth falls open, a long, shaky exhale escaping her.

"How's it feel?" Yujin asks.

"Big," Rei manages. "Really, really big."

"I told you." Yujin looks at you. "Slower."

You give Rei a moment. Your hands rest on her hips, thumbs tracing small circles on her skin, grounding her. When you feel her body soften again, you push deeper. Another inch. The lube does its job, the warming sensation easing the slide, and Rei groans low in her throat. It's a sound of fullness, of being stretched in a way that walks the tightrope between too much and exactly enough.

"That's it," Yujin murmurs. "Keep going. You're doing great, little bird."

Another inch. You're halfway in now, and the tightness is unreal. Nothing like her pussy. This is a different kind of grip entirely, relentless and uniform, squeezing every millimeter of your cock with equal, crushing pressure. The heat is staggering. Rei's thighs are quivering, her breathing short and fast, and every tiny movement you make sends a visible tremor through her body.

"More," Rei whispers. "Keep going." You push deeper. So slow it's almost painful for you, the urge to thrust fighting against every ounce of restraint you have. The lube squelches obscenely as you slide further in, and Rei lets out a broken, stuttering moan that builds in volume the deeper you go. Her ass is swallowing you inch by inch, her body opening for you, and the visual alone, your thick, glistening cock disappearing into her tight little hole, her round ass pressed against your hips, is enough to make your pulse hammer in your ears.

"Almost there," Yujin narrates, leaning to the side to get a better angle. "About two inches left. She's taking it like a champ."

"I can feel every single inch of him," Rei says, and her tone is dazed, almost drunk. "Every ridge. Everything."

You push the last two inches in slowly, steadily, until your hips press flush against her ass. All of you. Every inch buried inside her. Rei's body shudders beneath you and she lets out a sound that's half gasp, half sob, her face dropping to the mattress, her fingers twisted in the sheets so hard the fitted corner pops off.

"There you go," Yujin says. "All of it. How do you feel?"

Rei doesn't answer right away. She's breathing in short, shallow bursts, her body adjusting to the fullness, the stretch, the sheer overwhelming presence of your cock lodged deep in her ass. You hold completely still, giving her time, and you can feel her pulse throbbing around you, fast and heavy.

Then she lifts her head. Turns to look at you over her shoulder and says: "I'm ready, daddy." Her hips push back against you, taking you deeper, and the moan that leaves her mouth is filthy and absolutely nothing like the girl who asked for a Coke two hours ago. "Please fuck your good girl's ass."

You pull back. Feel every inch of her gripping you as you slide out until just the head remains inside, her rim stretched tight around the thickest part of you. Then you push forward again, steady, controlled, and Rei's whole body sinks into the mattress as you fill her. Her fingers claw the sheets and a long, trembling moan pours out of her, muffled against the pillow, a sound that starts in the gut and doesn't stop until there's no air left.

She's perfect on all fours. Back arched deep, ass pushed up and round and full, her dark hair spilling over her shoulders and sticking to the sweat on her skin. Every slow thrust makes her body rock forward, her breasts swaying beneath her, her thighs trembling with the effort of holding position. The lube has made everything slick and warm and the friction is sinful, that impossible tightness squeezing you on every stroke, hot and constant and so good your jaw aches from clenching it. "Deeper," Rei breathes. Her hips push back against you, greedy, impatient. "Go deeper. I want all of it."

You give her all of it. Bottom out with a slow grind that makes her toes curl and her spine flex. She lets out a choked, guttural sound and her arms give out, her chest dropping to the mattress, face turned sideways, mouth open. "Fuck, your cock is so good in my ass," she moans, pushing back onto you, taking you deeper even though there's nowhere deeper to go. "It's so thick. I can feel you stretching me open. Every single inch."

Yujin is sitting cross-legged beside the two of you, close enough to touch, her chin propped on her fist. She's watching Rei with an expression that's somewhere between a proud older sister and a director reviewing her best actress's career-defining performance. Her eyes are bright, engaged, drinking in every moan and tremble with obvious relish.

"Look at you, little bird." Yujin reaches over and traces a single finger down Rei's spine, from the nape of her neck to the small of her back, and Rei arches into the touch. "All that 'it's too kinky and filthy' bullshit. Too kinky for her. Can't do anal. Absolutely not." She laughs. "And now you've got a fat cock balls deep in your ass and you're begging for more. You're a natural."

"I am," Rei pants, and there's zero irony in it. "I'm a natural. I love it. I love his cock in my ass."

"Tell him that. Don't tell me. Look at him and tell him how much you love it."

Rei cranes her neck to look back at you over her shoulder. Her lips are swollen, parted and there's a strand of saliva connecting her lower lip to the pillow. She looks absolutely ruined. "I love your cock in my ass, daddy." She pushes back against you again, a slow, rolling grind that takes you deeper. "Please don't stop. Please keep fucking me."

You grip her hips tighter and pick up the pace. Not fast yet, but firmer, more rhythmic, each thrust landing with a slap of skin that punctuates the wet, obscene sounds between you. Rei drops her head and moans into the mattress, long and loud and completely uninhibited, and her hands slide forward on the sheets, reaching for something to hold onto, finding nothing, her fingers just clawing at empty fabric. "Harder," she begs. "I can take it. I promise I can take it."

You give her harder. The pace builds gradually, your hips snapping forward with more force, more speed, and Rei starts making sounds you didn't know she was capable of. Deep, throaty moans that break into whimpers at the peak of each thrust, her body jolting forward with every impact, her ass rippling where your hips collide with it. The lube is doing its job beautifully, everything warm and slick, and the tightness of her ass around your cock is relentless, gripping you from every angle, so snug it's almost unbearable.

"Oh my god," Rei gasps, her fingers twisted in the sheets, pulling them off the corner of the mattress. "Oh my god, oh my god, I can't believe Wonyoung never tried this. She had this the whole time. She had this cock and she never even let you fuck her. She never even let you inside her."

"Wonyoung is a fucking loser," Yujin says, casual and absolute. She shifts closer to Rei, settling onto her knees beside her. "The biggest loser in this whole city. She had a man who could make two girls fall apart in one afternoon and she used him for photo ops."

Yujin brings her hand down on Rei's right ass cheek with a clean, sharp smack that echoes through the bedroom. Rei's whole body clenches, her ass squeezing your cock so hard you have to grit your teeth, and the moan she lets out is wild and broken and grateful.

"Say it," Yujin tells her. She leans close to Rei's ear, her hand resting on the reddening handprint she just left. "Say Wonyoung is a loser. A stupid rich girl playing pretend. Say it, little bird." Another smack, harder than the first. Rei's back arches violently and her hips jerk back onto your cock, taking you deep, her body spasming around you.

"Wonyoung is a loser," Rei moans, her face pressed into the sheets, drool pooling on the cotton. "She's a stupid rich girl who throws people away. She doesn't deserve him. She never deserved him."

Yujin's hand smooths over the red mark on Rei's skin, soothing, possessive. "Good girl. That's my girl." Her fingers trail down between Rei's cheeks, brushing the stretched rim where your cock is splitting her open, feeling the slick junction of the two of you. Rei whimpers at the added touch, pushing back against both of you. "Now say you're hotter than her. Say you're better. Say Wonyoung could never give a blowjob like you gave today. That prissy bitch wouldn't even know where to start."

You thrust harder into Rei, punching deep, and the sound that rips out of her is raw and savage and nothing a polite girl would ever produce.

"I'm hotter than Wonyoung!" Rei practically shouts it into the mattress, her hips bucking back against you. "I'm so much fucking hotter than her. She could never suck a dick like I do. She could never take a cock in her ass like I do. She'd tap out in thirty seconds. She doesn't have the range." Her head lifts, hair falling in sweaty tangles around her face, and her eyes are wild. "And I give better head. Way better. She probably just lies there like a starfish. I bet she's never even made a guy cum with her mouth. I could make him cum three times before she even figured out what to do with her tongue."

Yujin's face lights up with pure, unadulterated glee. She grabs Rei's chin and angles her face upward, looking into those blown-out, frenzied brown eyes. "That's my fucking girl. Don't you dare stop. You hear me?" She slaps Rei's ass again, a stinging crack that makes Rei's whole body seize. "Fuck that cock. I want to see your ass moving. Show daddy what you can do."

Rei plants her palms on the mattress and starts rocking back onto you. Hard. Aggressive. Her hips snap backward, her ass slamming against your pelvis with a force that catches you off guard, impaling herself on your cock with a desperate, single-minded hunger. She's not just taking it anymore. She's fucking herself on you, driving back into every thrust you give, meeting you in the middle, and the combined force of both of you sends shockwaves through her entire body. Her ass bounces against your hips, round and full and glistening with sweat and lube, and the wet, filthy slap of impact fills the room in a constant, accelerating rhythm.

"That's it," Yujin breathes, her eyes locked on where your cock is disappearing into Rei's ass over and over. "That's fucking it. Look at her go. She's a goddamn machine."

"Don't stop, daddy," Rei pants, slamming herself back onto you. "Fuck my ass. Use me. Use my tight little ass. It's yours. Everything is yours." You grab her hips and start meeting her pace with your own, thrusting forward hard every time she pushes back, doubling the impact. The collision of your bodies is brutal, wet, loud and Rei screams into the mattress, a sustained, guttural wail that breaks into stuttered gasps with each thrust. Her ass is clenching around you in frantic, involuntary pulses, so tight you can barely pull out before slamming back in.

"Harder," Yujin commands, and she's talking to both of you. Her hand comes down on Rei's ass again, a rapid series of slaps, one two three, each one drawing a sharp cry from Rei. "I want her stupid. I want her drooling. Fuck her brains out."

You grab a fistful of Rei's hair and pull her head up off the mattress, and what you see confirms that Yujin's already gotten her wish. Rei's face is a wreck. Her mascara has smeared into dark streaks beneath her eyes. Saliva trails from her lower lip to the pillow in a thin, glistening string. Her jaw is hanging open, slack, her tongue half out, her eyes rolling and unfocused. She's trying to say something but the only thing coming out is garbled, fragmented nonsense punctuated by moans that sound barely human.

"More," she manages, and even that single syllable comes out slurred and broken. "More more more more more."

"She's gone," Yujin says, and there's a kind of awe in her expression. "Her brain is completely fried. Look at her. She's drooling on your thousand-dollar pillowcase." She cups Rei's face in both hands, tilting it toward her, examining the damage with a grin that's equal parts cruel and affectionate. "Hey. Rei. What's your name? What year is it? How many fingers am I holding up?"

Rei blinks at her, unfocused. A string of drool stretches from her lip. "Fuck me," she whispers. "Just keep fucking me."

"That's not an answer to any of my questions, but I respect the commitment."

You increase the pressure. Each thrust is deep and hard and unrelenting, your cock driving into her ass with a force that pushes her entire body forward on the mattress, her knees sliding on the sweat-damp sheets. You pull her hips back onto you every time she slides away, keeping her pinned, keeping her full, and Rei has stopped trying to form coherent thoughts entirely. She's just noise now, raw and animal, her body shaking and clenching and trembling beneath you. You can feel it building in her. The way her muscles are tightening, the way her thighs are quaking uncontrollably, the way her ass is gripping you in rhythmic, desperate spasms that are getting shorter and faster and more intense. She's close. Her whole body is a coiled spring about to snap, every nerve ending firing, every muscle tensed to the breaking point.

Her fingers are white-knuckled in the sheets, her toes curled, her back locked in a rigid arch that presses her ass up against you as hard as her body can manage. The moans have gone high and thin and continuous, a keening sound that wavers with each thrust, building and building toward something massive. Yujin sees it too. She's leaning close, one hand still on Rei's face, the other resting on the small of Rei's back, feeling the tremors running through her. Her own breathing has quickened, her nipples hard, her thighs pressed together. She strokes Rei's hair, almost tender, and watches her unravel with hungry, fascinated eyes.

"She's about to blow," Yujin murmurs, looking up at you over Rei's quaking body. "Whatever you're doing, don't you dare stop."

Your hips keep their rhythm, steady and deep, your cock driving into Rei's ass with a force that shakes her entire body. Your balls swing forward with every thrust, slapping against her soaked pussy. Rei's face is buried in the mattress, her fingers twisted in the ruined sheets, her entire body trembling with a vibration that's getting worse, tighter, closer.

"I'm gonna cum," Rei chokes out, and her back arches so deep her stomach nearly touches the bed. "Oh fuck, I'm gonna cum like this. From my ass. I'm gonna cum from your cock in my ass, daddy."

"Cum for daddy." You grip her hips and drive deep, holding there, grinding against that spot deep inside her that makes her whole body clench and spasm. "Let go. Give it to me."

Yujin leans in close to Rei's face, her hand on the back of Rei's neck, fingers threaded through damp, tangled hair. "He said cum, little bird. You heard him. You're his good girl. You deserve this." She strokes Rei's cheek with her thumb, almost maternal, while her other hand reaches under Rei and finds her clit, swollen and slick, and presses down. "Cum for your daddy. He earned it. You earned it."

You pull back and slam forward, burying yourself to the hilt, and Rei's scream is instant and raw. You don't stop. You keep that depth, that angle, fucking into her with short, punishing strokes that never let the pressure drop, your balls slapping against her drenched pussy with every impact. Rei's thighs are shaking so violently her knees are sliding apart on the sheets, and Yujin's fingers on her clit are relentless, rubbing in tight, fast circles that make Rei's whole body jolt and twitch.

"I can't, I can't, I can't," Rei babbles, but her hips are pushing back against you harder than ever, her body chasing what her mouth is trying to deny. "It's too much, it's too much, I'm gonna—"

The orgasm tears through her hard. You feel it before you hear it, her ass clamping down on your cock with a crushing, rhythmic pressure that squeezes you in violent waves. Then the sound hits, a scream that starts in her chest and rips its way out of her throat, high and sharp and sustained, her entire body locking up beneath you.

Her back goes rigid, her toes curl so hard her feet cramp. She convulses against you, her hips bucking in frantic, involuntary jerks, and you feel a rush of wetness flood against your balls as her pussy clenches in sympathy, her whole body detonating at once.

"Yeah, cum," Yujin breathes, her fingers still working Rei's clit through the orgasm, extending it, dragging it out. "Cum like the little slut you are. That's it. All of it. Every fucking drop."

Rei's scream breaks into a series of sobbing, gasping moans, each one weaker than the last, her body shuddering through wave after wave of contractions that you can feel rippling along every inch of your cock. Her arms collapse and she goes flat against the mattress, twitching, her fingers opening and closing on nothing.

You slow down. Pull back, inch by inch, letting her feel every ridge of you as you slide out. Her swollen rim clings to you, stretched and pink and glistening, and when the head finally slips free, Rei's body sags into the mattress with a full-body shudder that runs from her shoulders to her toes.

Rei rolls over onto her back, and the sight of her is extraordinary. Her face is flushed scarlet, her makeup destroyed, mascara streaked in dark smears beneath both eyes. There's drool on her chin, trailing down her neck, and her lips are swollen and parted and curved into the stupidest, most blissed-out smile you have ever seen on a human being.

"This is the best day of my life," she mumbles. "Nothing will ever top this. I peaked. It's all downhill from here."

Yujin leans over her friend's wrecked face and licks a stripe up her chin, collecting the drool on her tongue and swallowing it without a shred of hesitation. Then she cups Rei's face in both hands and peppers her with quick, firm kisses, lips pressing against her cheeks, her forehead, the bridge of her nose, the corner of her mouth.

"You were incredible, babe,” Yujin says between pecks, and there's no sarcasm in it. None. Just genuine, unfiltered pride. "That was beautiful, Rei. You took it so well. You're amazing." Another kiss, on the lips this time, lingering. "My little bird."

Rei's stupid grin gets even stupider. "Thank you, Yujin… Thank you, daddy."

You lean down and brush a strand of sweat-damp hair off her forehead. "Don't thank me. That was all you. You were amazing."

Rei hums contentedly, her eyes drifting shut for a moment, basking. Yujin's gaze drops to your cock. Still hard. Still slick and flushed and thick, jutting up from your hips with an insistence that borders on unreasonable. She stares at it. "You still haven't cum."

"Nope."

"How is that physically possible? You just fucked her ass for..." She trails off, trying to calculate the timeline, and gives up. "A long time. You fucked both of us. Multiple orgasms. Squirting. Anal. And you're still hard."

"Girls cum first. That's always been my rule. I like making sure they're taken care of before I worry about myself."

Yujin's lips part slightly. "That's... actually really hot. You keep surprising me. I came here today expecting some spoiled rich kid who couldn't find the clit with a map and a flashlight. You're nothing like what I expected."

"Good surprises?" You ask.

"Really good surprises. Now wait here, both of you. Don't move."

Yujin climbs off the bed and walks out of the bedroom. You watch her lean figure disappear around the corner with her stride purposeful and quick.

Rei lifts her head. "Where's she going?"

No answer. Just the sound of the briefcase clicking open in the living room. Rei lets her head fall back against the mattress and turns to look at you. That loopy grin is still plastered across her ruined face. "I'm excited for the date," she says softly. "I already know what I'm going to wear. I have this dress that I bought months ago and never had a reason to put on."

"Yeah?"

"It's dark green. It makes my eyes look good." She rolls onto her side, facing you, tucking her hands under her cheek. "Yujin's going to pretend she doesn't care. She's probably going to complain the whole time about how we're being reckless and how it's a terrible idea. But she's excited too."

"You think so?"

"I know so. The way she looks at you." Rei pauses, searching for the right way to say it. "She found somebody who can actually keep up with her. Someone she can't bulldoze. She's been running over every guy she's ever been with, and she's bored of it. You pushed back. You didn't fold." She smiles. "She'll never tell you this, by the way. If you mention I said any of it, I'll deny everything."

Footsteps in the hallway. Yujin rounds the corner and walks back into the bedroom, and between her legs, strapped snug against her hips with black leather harnesses, is a silicone cock. It's not comically large but it's not modest either, a smooth, dark-colored shaft that bobs slightly with each confident step she takes.

Rei pushes herself up on her elbows. Her eyes go wide. "Oh. Holy shit."

Yujin stands at the foot of the bed, hands on her hips, looking like a general surveying a battlefield. "Time for the fatality." She slaps the strap-on once, letting it bounce. "Today is a day you are never going to forget, little bird."

"It's already extremely memorable, Yujin. I've already had two orgasms."

"This is just to make absolutely sure." Yujin climbs onto the bed, the strap-on jutting forward, and kneels behind where Rei is lying. "You need to cum with two dicks in your holes. Full completion. Hundred percent achievement unlocked."

Rei sits up, her expression oscillating between terror and excitement with a healthy dose of horny delirium mixed in. "You're going to kill me."

"You're going to die happy. And when it's all over, you can have an ice-cold Coke. Straight from the fridge. That's your reward."

Rei looks at Yujin. Then at you. Then at the strap-on. Then at your cock. She chews her lower lip, and something sparks behind those big brown eyes, something calculating and mischievous that looks remarkably like a trait she picked up from Yujin. "Fine," she says. "I'll do it."

Yujin nods, satisfied. "Good girl."

"But." Rei holds up one finger. "Only if we spend the night here."

"You've lost your mind," Yujin says flatly.

"We stay here tonight. Both of us. We leave tomorrow morning." Rei crosses her arms over her bare chest, and despite the fact that she's naked and covered in sweat and her makeup looks like a Rorschach test, she projects a surprising amount of authority. "Those are my terms."

"That's insane. We need to go back. We have schedules. We have obligations. Wonyoung's expecting a debrief."

"Wonyoung can wait until tomorrow. The debrief isn't going anywhere."

"I can make dinner for everyone," you offer. "I'm a good cook."

Yujin's head swivels toward you. "Of course you're loving this idea."

"I make a really good pasta. From scratch."

"Nobody asked about your fucking pasta!" Yujin exclaims.

Rei tilts her head at Yujin. "You want to stay. I can see it on your face."

"You can't see anything on my face."

"Your left eye twitches when you want to say yes but your pride won't let you. It's twitching right now."

Yujin slaps a hand over her left eye. Holds it there for a second. Drops it. Takes a breath that contains the weight of every professional boundary she's crossed today, which is all of them.

"Okay! Fuck it!" She throws both hands up. "The plan's already gone to hell. Everything's gone completely off the rails. We've violated about thirty company policies. Who cares anymore." She points at Rei. "Fine. We sleep here tonight. But I am going to make you regret this idea later. That's a promise." Rei beams. "Wipe that grin off your face and get on top of him."

Rei climbs over you and settles on your hips, straddling you. She looks back over her shoulder at Yujin, who's kneeling behind her, adjusting the straps on the harness. That victorious, shit-eating smile is still spread across Rei's face like she just won the lottery and the Nobel Prize on the same day.

Yujin meets her eyes and smiles back. It's not a warm smile. "I'm going to fuck that grin right off your face tonight, little bird. Enjoy it while it lasts."

You reach down and take your cock in hand, lining the head up with Rei's pussy. She's still soaked, swollen and sensitive, and when the tip presses against her entrance she shudders visibly, her thighs clenching around your hips. Behind her, Yujin squeezes a fresh line of lube along the strap-on and presses it against Rei's ass, the tip nudging her already stretched, tender hole.

"Ready?" Yujin asks, one hand on Rei's hip, the other guiding the silicone cock. Rei nods. Her hands are flat on your chest, her fingers spread, steadying herself. She takes a breath.

You push up. Yujin pushes forward. Simultaneously. Rei's mouth falls open but nothing comes out. Her eyes roll back, the brown disappearing behind her lids, and her entire body goes taut, every muscle locking as both holes are filled at once. Your cock sinks into her pussy, hot and tight and clenching, and you can feel the strap-on through the thin wall separating her holes, the hard ridge of silicone pressing against your shaft through her body. The fullness must be staggering. Rei's fingers curl against your chest, her nails biting into your skin, and a thin, reedy whine escapes her throat.

Yujin pushes deeper, slow and steady, one hand on the small of Rei's back. "Breathe, little bird. Open up for us."

You sink in further. So does Yujin. Inch by inch, together, filling Rei from both sides until your hips are flush against her ass and Yujin's thighs are pressed against the back of hers. Both of you completely inside her. The tightness is absurd, her pussy squeezed even tighter by the presence of the strap-on in her ass, gripping your cock with a pressure that makes your stomach clench.

Rei is frozen above you. Trembling. Her eyes are still rolled back and her mouth is open in a silent oval. She's not breathing. You put a hand on her cheek and she blinks, focuses, sucks in a ragged gasp of air like she just surfaced from underwater. "There you go," you murmur. "Breathe. We've got you."

Yujin leans forward, pressing her chest against Rei's back, and wraps an arm around her waist. "You're doing so well. Just relax. We'll go slow."

The three of you hold there, connected, waiting. Rei's breathing gradually steadies. The trembling doesn't stop but it changes, shifting from shock to anticipation. Her pussy clenches around you in slow pulses, testing, adjusting, getting used to the impossible fullness of being stuffed in both holes at once.

"Okay." Her hips shift, just barely, a tiny experimental rock that makes all three of you feel it. "You can start. Just... go slow." She exhales shakily. "I really hope I survive this."

You start to move first. A slow, shallow thrust upward into Rei's pussy, feeling the tight, slick grip of her around your cock, made even tighter by the strap-on filling her from behind. A second later, Yujin follows, pulling her hips back and pushing the silicone cock forward into Rei's ass with a careful, exploratory rhythm that's clearly out of practice.

"It's been a minute since I've done this," Yujin admits, adjusting her grip on Rei's hips, finding her angle. "I'm relearning the choreography. Bear with me."

Rei is between you, suspended, her chest against yours, her face buried in the crook of your neck. Every movement from either direction makes her entire body shudder. Her fingers are digging into your shoulders so hard you're going to have bruises tomorrow, and the sounds coming out of her are small and constant, tiny whimpers that pulse with every thrust.

"It's really intense," Rei manages, her lips moving against your collarbone. "Both of you at the same time. I can feel everything. Every inch of both of you. It's so much."

"Having second thoughts?" you ask, running a hand down her spine.

"No. Just... recalibrating." She shivers as Yujin pushes deeper. "It looks so much easier in porn. Those girls are just bouncing around like it's nothing. They lied to me."

"Welcome to the harsh reality of having two cocks in your holes," Yujin says, settling into a slow, steady rhythm. "Porn is propaganda, little bird. This is the real thing."

You and Yujin find each other's rhythm. It takes a few strokes, a couple of adjustments, a silent negotiation between your bodies that happens through Rei, but after a minute you're moving in sync. When you thrust up, Yujin pulls back. When you pull out, she pushes in. Rei is never empty, always full of one of you, and the alternating pressure is making her lose her grip on reality one thrust at a time.

You cup the back of her head and tilt her face toward yours. Her eyes are glassy, unfocused, her lips wet and parted. You kiss her. Your tongue slides against hers and she moans into your mouth, the vibration traveling through your chest. She kisses you back with a sloppy, desperate hunger, her teeth catching your lower lip, her tongue chasing yours, and when you pull away she tries to follow, whining softly when the distance opens between you.

"You're doing so well," you tell her, brushing your thumb across her cheekbone. "You feel incredible. Both holes squeezing me. I've never felt anything like this."

Rei's cheeks flush even deeper, which shouldn't be possible given how red she already is. "Really?"

"Really. You're unbelievable."

Behind Rei, Yujin leans to the side, admiring the view. She reaches down with both hands and spreads Rei's cheeks apart, watching the strap-on slide in and out of her stretched, lubed hole. The sight makes her bite her lower lip and push in harder on the next stroke.

"The little bird was truly born to take it in the ass," Yujin says with the conviction of someone stating scientific fact. "Look at this. It's art. Someone should put this in a museum."

Rei whimpers into your chest. "That's not a museum-appropriate activity."

"Everything is museum-appropriate if the curator is brave enough." Yujin gives Rei's spread ass a long, appreciative look, then lifts her gaze to yours. That mischievous spark is back in her eyes, brighter than before. "So. What do you think of your first threesome?"

You thrust up into Rei and feel her clench around you. "I'm having a great time. Really enjoying the company."

Yujin snorts. She actually giggles, a sound you didn't think she was capable of producing. "I genuinely can't tell if you're describing a threesome or a picnic in the park."

“I love picnics,” Rei mumbles into your shoulder.

Yujin lets out an incredulous breath. “Nobody asked you anything, Rei."

“Sorry,” Rei says quickly, shifting slightly, almost sheepish. “I just… really like picnics. With sandwiches.”

Yujin actually pauses, then exhales a short, disbelieving laugh. “I’m literally inside your ass right now,” she says flatly, “and you’re talking about sandwiches. My fake dick almost went limp.”

Rei winces faintly at that, her fingers tightening where they rest. “Sorry,” she murmurs again. “didn’t mean to kill the vibe.”

Yujin's face softens. She runs her palm up Rei's back, gentle, grounding. "I'm just teasing, babe." Then her hand comes down on Rei's ass with a sharp crack that makes Rei's whole body jolt. "Now moan for mommy, okay?"

Rei obeys. A long, unfiltered moan that starts in her belly and spills out hot and broken against your skin. Her pussy clenches hard around your cock, and you feel the pressure of the strap-on through the thin wall between her holes, the silicone pressing against your shaft from the other side. "Good girl," Yujin purrs. "Louder."

You pick up the pace from below. Your hips drive up with more force, more speed, and Yujin matches you, the two of you falling into a faster rhythm that has Rei gasping and writhing between your bodies.

She's pinned. There's nowhere to go, nothing to do but take it, and the realization seems to hit her all at once because her body goes slack against your chest and she just surrenders. Completely. Every muscle releases and she becomes soft and pliant and open, her hips rocking between you in small, involuntary movements, her moans coming on every exhale.

"There she goes," Yujin murmurs. "She stopped fighting it. Now she's just taking it."

"That's it, Rei." You grab her ass with both hands, spreading her, giving Yujin a better angle. "Just feel it. Let us take care of you."

"Both of you," Rei pants, and her hips grind down onto your cock with a needy, circular motion. "Both of you feel so good. I'm so full. I've never been this full in my life."

You thrust harder. Yujin matches you. The rhythm is faster now, the bed rocking beneath the three of you, the headboard tapping the wall in a steady beat. Rei is sandwiched between your bodies, skin against skin, sweat mingling, and every thrust from either direction makes her cry out. The sounds she's producing are raw and uncontrolled, a continuous stream of moans and gasps and fragments of words that don't connect into sentences.

"Come on, little bird," Yujin says, snapping her hips forward, driving the strap-on deep. "Take it. Take both of us. You wanted this. You asked for this."

"I love it." Rei's nails score lines down your chest. "I love both of you inside me. Please don't stop. Daddy, please don't stop. Mommy, please."

You grab Rei's face in one hand and make her look at you. Her eyes are barely tracking, rolling and glassy, her pupils blown so wide the brown is nearly gone. There's drool on her chin again, her mascara is a lost cause and she is the most beautiful wreck you've ever seen in your life.

"Who makes you feel this good?" you ask, thrusting up hard enough to make her whole body bounce.

"You do, daddy." She can barely get the words out between moans. "You and Yujin. Nobody else. Nobody has ever made me feel like this."

"That's right,” Yujin says. “And nobody else is going to."

Yujin increases her pace. She's gripping Rei's hips hard enough to leave finger-shaped bruises, her own breathing getting heavier, her thighs slapping against Rei's ass with every forward snap. She leans over Rei's back, pressing close, her mouth near Rei's ear. "You're taking it so well, babe. Both holes stuffed full and you're still begging for more. You're our perfect little slut."

"I am," Rei sobs. "I'm your slut. Both of yours."

The three of you are moving together now, a single organism of tangled limbs and sweat and noise. You and Yujin have locked into a brutal, alternating rhythm, never letting Rei rest, never giving her a moment without one of you buried deep inside her. Your cock drives up into her pussy, thick and hard and relentless, while the strap-on fills her ass from behind, and Rei is caught in between, overwhelmed, overloaded, every nerve in her body firing at maximum capacity.

You feel her start to tighten. Not just her pussy, her whole body. Every muscle drawing taut, her thighs clamping against your sides, her fingers digging into your shoulders, her teeth sinking into the meat of your chest hard enough to sting. The moans are getting higher, tighter, more desperate.

"She's close," you tell Yujin.

"I know. I can feel her shaking." Yujin pounds harder, the strap-on driving deep. "Come on, Rei. Finish. Give us everything."

"I'm gonna cum." Rei's entire body is vibrating against yours, a fine, uncontrollable tremor that runs through her like an electrical current. "I can't hold it. Both of you are too much. It's too good. I'm gonna cum with both of you inside me."

"Then cum, babe," you tell her, grabbing her hips and driving up into her so hard she bounces off your pelvis. "Cum for us."

Yujin slams forward at the same time you do, and for one brutal, perfect second, Rei is completely filled from both sides at once. Maximum depth. Both holes stretched and stuffed and speared on cock.

Rei detonates. The orgasm is violent. Her body seizes above you, rigid as steel, and the scream that comes out of her is inhuman, a raw, tearing sound that doesn't stop, that just keeps pouring out of her throat as her body convulses. Her pussy crushes your cock in rhythmic, crushing contractions, so tight it's almost painful, and you can feel the strap-on jerking on the other side of that thin wall as her ass clenches just as hard.

She's shaking so violently that Yujin has to grab her waist to keep her from bucking off both of you, and wet heat floods around your cock as she cums so hard her body can't contain it, her juices spilling out around your shaft and running down your balls.

"Holy fuck," Yujin breathes, holding Rei steady, still buried inside her. "Holy fuck, she's still going."

Rei's orgasm keeps rolling, wave after wave, her body clenching and releasing in violent spasms that you feel through every inch of your cock. Tears are streaming down her face, mixing with the drool and the smeared mascara, and she's making sounds that have stopped resembling anything human, just raw, primal noise, her body expressing what her brain no longer can.

You and Yujin slow down together. Easing off. Letting the aftershocks ripple through her without adding to the overload. Yujin pulls out first, slow and careful, and Rei whimpers at the withdrawal, her body twitching. Then you ease your hips down, letting her feel you soften your rhythm to a gentle rocking, just enough contact to keep her grounded while the tremors gradually subside.

Rei collapses onto your chest. Completely boneless. Dead weight. She's breathing in ragged, hitching gasps, her whole body still twitching with aftershocks, and she doesn't move. Doesn't speak. Just lies there, draped across you, her face pressed against your neck, her heartbeat hammering so hard you can feel it against your own ribs.

Yujin unstraps the harness and tosses it off the bed. It lands somewhere on the floor with a thud. She lies down beside you both, propping herself on one elbow, and looks at Rei with something that transcends amusement and enters the territory of reverence.

"Rei. You alive?"

A long silence. Then, muffled against your neck: "I'm going to need a wheelchair from now on." Yujin laughs. "My legs don't work," Rei continues, her face still hidden. "My brain doesn't work. Nothing works. I'm broken. Both of you broke me."

"You're welcome,” Yujin says proudly.

Rei slowly, painfully, rolls off your chest and lands on her back beside you. She lies there spread-eagled on the destroyed bed, staring at the ceiling, chest heaving, body glistening. Every few seconds a residual shudder passes through her and she twitches, her thighs squeezing together involuntarily.

"Tell my Switch 2 I loved it a lot," she mumbles. "We had some amazing moments. Sadly, I won’t be finishing Pokopia..."

Yujin is grinning at Rei when you feel a hand on your jaw. She turns your face toward hers and kisses you. It's unexpected, and that's what makes it hit different. Her lips are soft against yours, warm and unhurried, and she kisses you like she's taking something for herself rather than proving a point. When she pulls back, her eyes are clear and steady. "Good job."

"You did pretty well yourself. Tag team of the century."

She grins, but it fades into something else. She leans close, her lips brushing the shell of your ear, her hand resting on your chest. Her breath is warm and her whisper is low enough that Rei can't hear it. "Can you make me cum again?" She traces a small circle on your chest with her fingertip. "I'm kind of obsessed with your cock. It's becoming a problem."

You turn your head and catch her eye. No guarded expression this time, just a lingering heat, a flicker of want, and something raw she isn’t covering up. "Of course I can,” you say.

Yujin grins again, grabs your hand and pulls you off the bed. Your feet hit the hardwood floor and she positions herself in front of you, standing at the edge of the mattress, her back to your chest. The late afternoon light is cutting through the floor-to-ceiling windows and painting gold stripes across her skin, across the lean lines of her shoulders and the sharp curve of her waist.

On the bed, Rei rolls onto her stomach and props her chin on her fists, settling in. Her legs kick up behind her, crossed at the ankles. "Go ahead. I'll just watch and enjoy the show."

Yujin glances back over her shoulder at Rei. "Didn't know you were into voyeurism."

"After today? Voyeurism is all I've got left." Rei shifts and hugs a pillow to her chest. "Everything else has been thoroughly explored. I'm retiring from active duty. Observer status only."

You put both hands on Yujin's waist. She's warm under your palms, her skin damp and smooth, and you can feel her pulse ticking fast beneath the surface. You pull her hips back against you, your cock settling between her thighs, sliding through the slick heat gathered there. She inhales sharply but doesn't move, letting you take the lead. You angle yourself and press the head of your cock against her entrance. She's wet. Embarrassingly wet, from everything she's watched and done and felt over the last however many hours this has been.

You push inside her. Slow. Steady. And Yujin exhales like she's been holding her breath since the last time you were in her, a long, shuddering sigh that drops her shoulders and tips her head forward. "I missed this," she murmurs. "It's been like thirty minutes and I missed this. That's pathetic."

You slide your hands up from her waist. Over the flat plane of her stomach, up her ribs, until your palms cover her breasts. They're full, firm and her nipples are stiff against your palms, and when you squeeze, gentle but possessive, she pushes back against you and takes you another inch deeper.

Your lips find the side of her neck. You kiss the spot just below her ear, then lower, along the tendon, tasting salt and perfume, and she tilts her head to give you more room. You mouth your way down to her shoulder, teeth grazing skin, and feel the goosebumps rise under your lips.

"You have the most incredible body," you tell her, squeezing her breasts again, rolling her nipples between your fingers. You thrust into her, slow and deep, and feel her clench around you. "Every single part of you. Your stomach. Your hips. These legs." You press deeper and she gasps. "You're so fucking hot it's hard to concentrate."

Yujin laughs, breathy and unsteady, her composure fraying at the edges. "You're so obsessed with me. It's borderline clinical."

"It's the truth. Why would I lie about it?" You pull back and push in again, a long stroke that fills her completely, and her laugh cuts off into a moan. "I've been with one woman for over a year and she never once made me feel anything close to what I feel when I'm inside you."

"Stop being smooth while you're fucking me. It's not fair. I can't think of comebacks."

"Then don't think." You start thrusting deeper. Not faster, just deeper, each stroke reaching further, grinding at the peak before pulling back. Yujin's head falls back against your shoulder, her hair spilling over your skin, and she stares at the ceiling with her lips parted and her eyes half-shut.

From this angle you can see everything. The way her throat works when she swallows a moan. The way her stomach clenches with every thrust. The way her hands hang at her sides because she doesn't know what to do with them, because she's given up trying to control the situation and she's just letting you have her.

"Damn… you’re fucking me so good," she says, voice low, stripped of anything but pure feeling. "You're hitting something in there that I didn't even know existed. How are you doing that?"

"Trade secret."

"Asshole."

"You two look really good together," Rei says, and her tone has a roughness to it that wasn't there a minute ago. "Like, unreasonably good. The height difference. The way she leans into you. The way your hands look on her body." She shifts again. "Maybe I'm more into this voyeurism thing than I thought."

Yujin moans, long and open, as you thrust particularly deep. "Enjoying the view, little bird?"

"Very much."

You keep fucking Yujin. Slow, measured strokes from behind, your hands exploring her body with a thoroughness that's making her squirm. Every time you squeeze her hip, she clenches around you. Every time you kiss her neck, she tilts into it. Every time you murmur something against her skin, her breathing gets shorter.

There's no pretense anymore. No competition, no performance, no score-keeping. She's just here, with you, feeling everything, and for the first time today she's letting herself have it without a fight.

"Wrap your arm around me," she says, quiet, tentative even. You slide your arm around her waist and pull her flush against your chest, and she makes a small, satisfied sound and reaches back to grip the back of your neck, holding you close. The position is intimate in a way that nothing else today has been. Your chest against her back, your arm around her, your cock buried deep inside her, the two of you moving together in the golden afternoon light.

After several minutes, the mattress creaks. Rei has gotten tired of watching. She pushes herself up, swings her legs off the bed, and stands in front of Yujin on unsteady legs. She's still flushed, still wrecked, still marked with the aftermath of everything that's happened to her body today, but there's a renewed energy in her eyes.

She steps close and cups Yujin's face in both hands. Yujin looks at her, surprised, and Rei kisses her, their lips meeting softly, tongues touching, Rei's thumbs stroking Yujin's cheekbones. When they part, Yujin's eyes are glassy. "Looks like the little bird got her strength back."

Rei smiles. "Watching you get fucked is like spinach. Instant recovery."

"Don’t ever let those words come out of your mouth around me again."

"Stop being so grumpy,” Rey says, then her mouth travels down. She kisses Yujin's jaw, her throat, the hollow of her collarbone. Her lips close around Yujin's left nipple and she sucks softly, her tongue flicking across the stiff peak. Yujin hisses through her teeth and her hand comes up to cradle the back of Rei's head, fingers threading through dark hair. You keep fucking Yujin from behind, your pace steady, and between the two of you she's starting to shake.

Rei kisses lower. Down Yujin's sternum, across her stomach, her lips tracing the faint lines of definition there. She drops to her knees between Yujin's thighs, looking up at both of you, and the angle gives her a perfect view of your cock sliding in and out of Yujin's pussy. "Let me help," Rei says, licking her lips.

You lift Yujin's left leg and place it on the edge of the mattress, opening her up. The new angle drives you deeper and Yujin gasps, grabbing your arm for balance. Her pussy is spread wide now, everything exposed, and Rei leans in and presses her tongue flat against Yujin's clit.

"Fuck—" Yujin breathes. "Oh, fuck."

Rei licks her in slow, broad strokes, her tongue running from where your cock enters Yujin all the way up to her clit and back down again. She's licking both of you, tasting Yujin's wetness and the slick coating your shaft, her tongue sliding along the underside of your cock every time you pull back. The sensation is staggering, Rei's hot, wet tongue dragging along your cock while Yujin's pussy grips you from every angle, and you have to lock your jaw to keep your composure.

"This is too fucking good," Yujin gasps, her head falling back against your shoulder again. "Both of you. Her tongue and your cock. It's too much. I can't handle this."

"You can handle it," you tell her, thrusting harder. "You're handling it right now."

"I'm barely surviving."

Rei focuses her attention on Yujin's clit, sucking it between her lips, flicking it with the tip of her tongue in quick, precise strokes. Her hands grip Yujin's thighs, holding her open, and every few seconds she dips down to drag her tongue along the stretched rim of Yujin's pussy where your cock is splitting her apart. The wet sounds are filthy and constant, Rei's mouth and your cock working together in a symphony of slick, obscene noise.

You increase your pace. Harder, faster, your hips driving into Yujin with a force that makes her whole body rock forward with each thrust. Rei adjusts, staying close, her tongue never leaving Yujin's clit. You grab Yujin's hip with one hand and her breast with the other, pulling her back onto your cock as you slam forward.

"I'm not going to last," Yujin pants. Her fingers are tangled in Rei's hair, pulling her closer, grinding her pussy against Rei's face. "Both of you at once is cheating. This is fucking cheating."

"Complain about it later," Rei says against her clit, the words buzzing against sensitive flesh, and Yujin's legs buckle for a second.

"Oh god. Oh god, oh god, oh god." Yujin's hand shoots back and grabs the back of your neck, nails biting into your skin. Her body is tensing up, that familiar full-body clench, every muscle drawing tight. "I'm close. I'm really close. Don't stop. Neither of you stop. Please, daddy, don't stop—"

You pound into her, relentless, your cock driving deep on every stroke. Rei sucks her clit hard, her cheeks hollowing, her eyes squeezed shut in concentration. Yujin is caught between the two of you, shaking, gasping, her body coiling tighter and tighter. "Cum for us," you growl against her ear. "Let go, babe."

Yujin cums. Her whole body seizes, her spine arching away from your chest, her mouth opening in a silent scream that hangs in the air for one eternal second before the sound catches up. A raw, shattered moan rips out of her, and then the flood. She squirts hard, a forceful spray that catches Rei directly in the face.

Rei flinches back, eyes flying open, sputtering. Her face is drenched. Her hair is drenched. She's blinking rapidly, mouth open in shock, Yujin's release dripping off her chin and running down her neck.

Yujin sees Rei's face through the haze of her orgasm and starts laughing. A breathless, broken laugh that mixes with her moans, her body still convulsing around your cock. "Oh my god. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, little bird. But your face right now..."

Another jet pulses out of her, arcing through the air and hitting Rei square in the chest, splashing across her breasts and running down her stomach. Rei looks down at herself, then up at Yujin, her expression caught between outrage and disbelief. "Yujin!"

"I can't control it!" Yujin is laughing so hard she can barely stand, her legs wobbling, her body still twitching through the tail end of her orgasm. "It just happens!"

You ease your pace, slowing to a gentle rocking, letting her ride the last waves. When you finally pull out, Yujin shudders one last time and exhales a breath that seems to empty her completely. She leans against you for a moment, catching her balance, then looks at Rei, who is kneeling on the floor absolutely soaked from the chest up.

Yujin's mouth twitches. "Okay. Since little bird got a surprise facial..." She pushes herself off you and lowers to her knees beside Rei, both of them on the floor in front of you. Yujin wipes a streak of wetness off Rei's cheek with her thumb and grins. "Let's finish the job properly."

Yujin's fingers wrap around the base of your cock. Rei's hand joins hers, overlapping, both of them stroking you in tandem. Their faces are inches from the head, looking up at you, and the visual alone almost does you in. "Look at these balls," Yujin says, her free hand cupping them, weighing them, rolling them in her palm. "So fucking full. You've been holding it in this whole time while you made both of us cum how many times? You're gonna explode. There's gonna be so much."

Rei runs her tongue along the underside of your shaft while Yujin strokes, a long, slow lick from base to tip that makes your thighs tense. "He deserves it. He's been so patient."

"Patient isn't the word. This man has the self-control of a monk." Yujin leans forward and takes the head into her mouth, sucking hard, her cheeks hollowing, tasting herself on you. She pulls off with a wet sound. "I can still taste my pussy on your dick. That's so hot."

Rei takes over, swallowing you deep, her throat opening around your shaft with that natural ease that made Yujin's jaw drop earlier. She holds there, her nose pressed against your pelvis, then pulls back slowly, a thick string of saliva connecting her lip to your cock. "You taste like both of us now."

They alternate. Rei goes deep while Yujin works the shaft. Then Yujin takes you in her mouth, sloppy and aggressive, while Rei dips lower and sucks your balls, taking one into her mouth, rolling it gently with her tongue. The combined sensation of two mouths, two tongues, four hands, all of it focused on your cock with a coordinated intensity that borders on worship, is pushing you toward the edge faster than anything has all afternoon.

"You two are so fucking good together," you manage, your hand finding the back of Yujin's head, your other hand tangled in Rei's hair. "The best mouths I've ever had. Nothing even comes close."

Yujin pulls off long enough to grin up at you. "Tell us more."

"Fishing for compliments with my dick in your mouth. Classy."

"Always." She runs her tongue in a circle around the head. "Now tell us how bad you want to cum."

"Pretty fucking bad."

Rei releases your balls and licks her way back up, joining Yujin at the tip. Both their tongues meet at the head, lapping at the sensitive ridge, their lips brushing against each other and against you in a wet, messy tangle that makes your abs clench hard enough to ache.

"Then cum for us, daddy," Rei says, looking up at you with those wide brown eyes that have no right to look that innocent given what her mouth is doing. "Please. We want it."

"We need it," Yujin adds, stroking you faster. "Cum on our faces. Give us what Wonyoung would never let you have." She spits on your cock and twists her fist on the upstroke, her grip tightening. "That prissy bitch would never let you cum on her perfect little princess face. Too messy. Too dirty. Too beneath her."

"But we're not her," Rei breathes, her tongue flicking across your slit. "We actually want it. We're begging for it."

"We're so much better than her." Yujin's pace increases, her fist pumping your slick cock fast and relentless. "We let you fuck our pussies raw. We let you fuck Rei's tight little ass. We let you do anything you want with us. Wonyoung could never."

"She could never," Rei echoes, sucking the tip between her lips briefly. "She doesn't deserve this cock. We do."

"So give it to us." Yujin's hand is a blur now, her wrist snapping on every stroke, your cock drooling precum that she smears across the head with her thumb. "Cum all over us. Paint our faces. We want to wear it."

Your grip tightens in both their hair. Your thighs are shaking. Your balls are drawn up tight and the pressure is building, building, a coiling heat in your lower stomach that's about to snap. Both of them are focused on the tip now, their tongues overlapping, licking, their lips kissing the head of your cock from either side.

"Cum, daddy," Rei whispers.

"Fucking cum," Yujin demands.

You break. The first rope hits Yujin across the bridge of her nose and her right cheek, thick and white and hot. She doesn't flinch. Doesn't close her eyes. Just keeps stroking, her fist pumping your cock through the orgasm, milking every drop. "More," she says. "Give us more. Don't stop."

The second shot catches Rei across her forehead and her left eye, which she squeezes shut just in time. It drips down her brow and along her cheekbone. The third hits them both, streaking across Yujin's lips and Rei's chin. You're cumming harder than you've ever cum in your life, weeks and months of pent-up frustration and loneliness and faithfulness to a woman who couldn't be bothered to break up with you in person, all of it pouring out of you in thick, pulsing ropes that keep coming and coming.

Yujin's hand doesn't stop. She keeps stroking, fast and tight, pulling every last drop from you while your cock throbs and kicks in her grip. "That's it. Keep cumming. Fuck, there's so much. Look at all of it, Rei."

Rei is a mess. Her face is glazed with it, white streaks across her forehead, her nose, her cheeks, dripping off her chin onto her chest. She opens her good eye and looks up at you with that stupid, blissed-out grin. Your cock pulses one more time, a final weak spurt that lands on Yujin's collarbone, and then you're done. Empty. Completely and thoroughly spent.

Yujin smiles up at you. Her face is covered. It's in her eyelashes, across the bridge of her nose, on her upper lip. She looks like a glazed donut and she couldn't look more satisfied about it. "Amazing… And to think I'm getting paid for this."

Rei scoops a thick line of cum off her cheek with two fingers and slides them into her mouth, sucking them clean. She considers the taste for a moment, like a sommelier evaluating a vintage, and nods approvingly. Yujin runs her tongue across her upper lip, collecting what's gathered there, and swallows.

You sit down on the edge of the mattress. Your legs feel like they've been deboned. You lean back on your hands and let out a breath that comes from somewhere deep in your chest, somewhere that's been clenched tight for months. "That was fucking awesome."

"The best part," Rei says, still kneeling on the floor, still dripping, "is that we're sleeping here tonight. So we can do it again later."

Yujin groans from the floor. "Do we really need him? What if he's a serial killer? We don't know this man."

Rei looks at her flatly. "I just let the serial killer cum on my face, Yujin."

Yujin purses her lips. Opens her mouth. Closes it. "You have a point."

You lean forward and offer both of them a hand up. "How about a bath? I've got a tub big enough for three."

"You made the mess," Yujin says, taking your hand and pulling herself to her feet. "You clean it up." She touches her hair and her fingers come away sticky. "There's cum in my hair. This is a two-hundred-dollar blowout."

"I'll wash it for you."

"Damn right you will."

—

A few hours later, the penthouse feels calmer. Golden daylight has slipped into a cool evening blue, and the city beyond the windows begins to glow.

Yujin is in your kitchen. She's wearing your shirt, a white oxford that hangs to the top of her thighs, the hem just barely covering the curve of her ass, which peeks out whenever she reaches for anything above counter height. Her legs are bare, her hair is damp from the bath and starting to curl at the ends, and she's got your wireless headphones clamped over her ears.

She's singing, her hips swaying as she opens the freezer and pulls out a tub of ice cream. Her bare feet pad across the kitchen tile and she grabs a spoon from the drawer, scooping out a bite and eating it while she sings between mouthfuls.

"Hey, Miss Sun, what can I say?" She twirls the spoon between her fingers, bobbing her head. "I tried to hold you, but the moon got in the way..." She does a little spin, sliding on the tile in her bare feet, and catches herself on the counter. "It won't be long before the morning has you back in my arms—"

The music cuts out. Her phone buzzes on the counter, the screen lighting up. She glances at it and the spoon freezes halfway to her mouth.

Jang Wonyoung

Yujin sets down the ice cream. Pulls off the headphones. Takes a breath. Answers. "Hey, boss."

Wonyoung's tone comes through tinny and sharp, even from across the room. Yujin leans against the counter and examines her nails while she listens.

"Where are you two? You've been off the grid all day. I tried calling Rei three times."

"Yeah, sorry about that. Rei hurt her ankle. Fell down some stairs on the way out of his building." Yujin picks at a cuticle. "That girl doesn't look where she's going. I keep telling her. She just spaces out and trips over everything."

"Is she okay?"

"She's fine. It's just a mild sprain. I took her back to her apartment to keep an eye on her. We'll probably be in tomorrow."

A pause on the other end. "How did it go? Everything run smoothly?"

"Smooth as silk. Textbook operation. Contract signed, obligations fulfilled. All wrapped up."

"Did he cry?"

A flicker of tension pulls at Yujin’s jaw before she smooths it over. “No,” she says, light as ever.

"Seriously?" Wonyoung sounds genuinely annoyed. "He should have cried. I expected at least some tears. I would have cried."

"I think he wanted to. He was definitely holding it back. Didn't want to cry in front of two girls, you know? Fragile masculinity. Big ego, small emotional range. The usual."

"Men..." Wonyoung sighs with the weariness of someone who has never once been inconvenienced by her own behavior. "How was the sex?"

"Everything went according to plan. He was satisfied by the end. No complaints. No resentment. Mission accomplished."

"Perfect. Great work, Yujin. Now we just have to wait about six months." Wonyoung's tone shifts into something brighter, more animated, the sound of someone admiring their own strategy. "The breakup's going to generate tons of attention. Everyone loves a fallen romance. Sympathetic press for me, speculation, mystery. And then in six months, we get back together. Reconciliation arc. The public eats that up. Engagement numbers will be through the roof."

Yujin stares at the far wall. "Sounds like you've got it all figured out."

"I always do. Just keep the documents safe. I want everything on my desk tomorrow."

"Of course. You can count on me, boss."

"I know I can. Goodnight, Yujin."

"Goodnight."

The call ends. The screen goes dark. Yujin stands there for a moment, phone in hand, staring at nothing. Then she puts the headphones back on. The music starts again, Miss Sun picking up where it left off. She grabs the ice cream tub and turns toward the hallway. On her way past the kitchen trash can, she glances down.

Inside, sitting on top of crumpled paper towels, is a small pile of ashes. Gray and black and still faintly warm. The edges of a few charred paper fragments are still visible, corners of thick, expensive legal stock, the kind used for contracts that were meant to be kept in briefcases and filed in offices and presented to bosses who think they run the world.

Yujin takes a bite of ice cream and looks at the ashes for a long, satisfied moment.

“That bitch has no idea what’s coming,” she murmurs around the spoon.

She paused, looking at you over the rim of her glasses with a knowing look. "You know you're in the same grade as them, right? Even though you don't have the same classes since you're busy playing 'Genius' in here with the seniors."

"What are you getting at?" you asked, keeping your voice flat.

Karina leaned in, her elbow hitting the table as she propped her chin up, a full-blown teasing smirk on her face. "Don’t you think they're pretty? Most guys in this school would trip over their own feet just to get a seat in your TA block if they knew those two were going to be there."

Before you could even formulate a dry response, she scoffed and rolled her eyes. "Oh, please. I haven't seen you talk to a single girl besides me outside of class for the entirety of high school. Seriously, shouldn't the 'Ace' have a girlfriend by now?"

You felt a slight heat crawl up your neck, but you didn't let your expression waver. "I taught them calculus, and I'm busy, Karina. Relationships take time I don't have."

"Spoken like a true robot," she teased, leaning in. "But I'm serious. Don’t be too mean to them.”

"What? I’m not mean..." you countered, actually feeling a sharp prick of offense.

Before you could say more, the bell rang, echoing through the high ceilings of the math wing. The chatter in the room died down instantly as the teacher stood up and tapped a marker against the board. Karina gave you one last mischievous wink, then faced forward, clicking her pen into gear.

—

Yeji propped her chin on her palm as she looked at Yuna. "So, you actually went to those office hours yesterday, right? How was he? You were so excited about it yesterday morning."

Yuna practically beamed, her eyes lighting up as she dropped her chopsticks onto her tray. She didn't even attempt to play it cool, her face flushing a light pink. "Oh my god, he was so nice! I mean, yeah, he’s serious—like, super serious—but he was actually really patient. I thought he’d just stare at us until we figured it out ourselves or just give us the answer to get us to leave, but he actually walked me through the whole logic."

She leaned in closer to the center of the table, her voice dropping to a loud, excited whisper that made the other girls lean in too.

"And honestly? Up close?" Yuna's hands flew up to her cheeks. "He’s even more handsome. He looks way better when you're actually sitting right in front of him instead of just watching him from across the gym or from the bleachers. His focus is just... wow. When he looks at your paper, it's like nothing else in the room exists. I almost forgot how to do basic addition, let alone calculus."

Ryujin, who had been leaning back with her arms crossed, let out a dry snort. "Careful, Yuna. If your heart beats any louder, the tennis team is going to hear it from across the hall. Besides, I thought the 'Ice King' didn't talk to anyone under a 4.0 GPA."

"It's not like that!" Yuna defended, her smile only widening. "He's just... different when he’s teaching. Like he's actually dedicated to making sure you get it. He doesn't just give you the answer; he makes you feel like you're smart enough to find it."

"Interesting," Yeji noted, taking a slow sip of her water. "Usually, guys with that much hype are either total jerks or have the personality of a brick. To hear he’s actually 'patient' is a bit of a plot twist. Maybe there’s a human under all that precision after all."

"I'm telling you," Yuna whispered, leaning even further in. "It’s the eyes. They’re so sharp. It's like he's solving you along with the math problem. If he keeps this up, Room 1120 is going to be the most popular spot in school."

—

On the other side of the lunchroom Leeseo leaned in, her eyes wide with curiosity as she stirred her yogurt. "Did you guys actually see him yesterday? I heard the TA session was packed."

"I didn't go," Rei added, propping her chin on her hand, "but I saw the crowd. Yujin and Wonyoung were there though."

Wonyoung, who had been quietly scrolling through her phone, suddenly looked up with a mischievous glint in her eyes. She leaned over and gave Yujin’s shoulder a sharp, playful nudge. "Oh, we did more than just see him. You guys know what happened yesterday?"

Yujin, her spoon halfway to her mouth, looked genuinely confused for a split second, her heart skipping a beat. "What are you talking about, Wonyoung?"

"Don't play dumb," Wonyoung teased, her voice dropping just enough to make it sound like a scandalous secret. "After the session ended, y/n specifically asked to talk to Yujin. Privately. In the classroom. Away from everyone else."

"WAIT, WHAT?!" Leeseo and Rei exclaimed in unison, their voices slightly too loud for the crowded room.

Several students at the neighboring tables turned their heads.

"What did he say, Yujin?" Leeseo hissed, leaning so far over the table she nearly tipped her water. "Did he ask for your number? Is he actually a robot? Tell us!"

Yujin felt the heat rising to her cheeks as she felt the weight of the entire cafeteria's curiosity pressing down on her. She couldn't tell them the truth—that you had snapped, that she had followed you home, or that she had seen the "Ace" looking like he was one step away from a breaking point.

"It’s not that big of a deal," Yujin said quickly, waving her hand dismissively while trying to regain her composure. "He just... he noticed I stayed late and wanted to make sure I understood the last problem. That’s all."

Wonyoung raised an eyebrow, clearly not buying the "academic" excuse for a second. "Seriously, Yujin," Rei whispered, leaning in so close their shoulders touched. "The 'Ice King' doesn't just pull people aside. "Maybe he just thinks Yujin is a lost cause in math," Leeseo teased, though her eyes were still wide with suspicion.

Yujin kept her head down, focusing intensely on her lunch as the lunchroom continued to be filled with chatter.

—

The lunchroom chatter followed them like a heavy fog as they stepped out into the main corridor. Yujin was still reeling from Wonyoung’s "secret" reveal; the white lie had painted a target on her back, and the weight of it was making her dizzy.

"Wonyoung, why would you say that?" Yujin hissed, her pace quickening as they rounded the corner. "Now everyone thinks there’s something going on. I barely even know him! We've talked for, what, ten minutes total?"

"Exactly," Wonyoung said, her eyes scanning the crowd ahead like a hawk. "Which is why we’re going to increase your screen time."

"What? What do you mean?" Yujin asked, her brow furrowing in genuine confusion. She stopped for a second, trying to parse Wonyoung’s logic. "Wonyoung, I'm serious, what are you—"

"Shh. The target is in range, and he looks distracted," Wonyoung whispered, her eyes locking onto you as you approached.

Before Yujin could process the mischievous glint in her friend's eyes, Wonyoung stepped into her space and threw her weight into Yujin’s shoulder. She stumbled sideways, her balance vanishing. She let out a small gasp as she collided directly with your chest, the force of it nearly knocking your phone out of your hand.

You staggered back half a step, your arms instinctively reaching out to catch her. Your fingers gripped Yujin’s upper arms, pulling her upright to steady her.

Yujin looked up, her face inches from yours. Up close, you looked caught off guard; your usual mask of indifference was momentarily crooked. You blinked, your eyes flicking to hers before darting away to the side. You weren't angry, but you looked a little rattled by the sudden proximity, your grip on her arms lingering for just a fraction of a second too long before you realized it.

"I-I'm so sorry," Yujin stammered, her face turning a deep shade of crimson. "Wonyoung just—I mean, I tripped."

You let go of her arms, stepping back to re-establish a polite, rigid distance. You cleared your throat, focusing intensely on the schedules in your hand rather than looking her in the eye.

"It’s okay," you replied, your voice regaining its flat, detached tone. "Just be careful."

You adjusted the folders under your arm, your movements a little more hurried than usual. Without another word or a glance back, you turned and continued down the hall, your eyes fixed firmly on the floor ahead as you beat a hasty retreat.

Yujin stood frozen for a second before spinning around to face Wonyoung, her eyes wide with mortification.

"What are you doing?!" Yujin whispered-yelled, her face still burning. "Why would you do that? I barely know him, Wonyoung! Now he probably thinks I’m a total klutz on top of everything else."

Wonyoung, however, wasn't looking at Yujin. She was watching the way you were walking away—just a little bit faster than your usual composed stride.

"He said 'it's okay,'" Wonyoung noted, a smug grin spreading across her face. "And besides, now he remembers you."

"I'm sure he already remembers me," Yujin countered quickly, her voice defensive as she tried to smooth down her uniform.

Wonyoung turned back to her, her grin only widening. She reached out and patted Yujin’s burning cheek playfully. "Well, now he definitely remembers you. There’s a difference between being a student in a classroom and being the girl who nearly tackled him in the hallway.

"Why does it even matter anyway?" Yujin snapped, her voice firm as she swiped Wonyoung’s hand away. She straightened her posture, trying to reclaim her dignity. "I don't even like him. He’s just the TA, Wonyoung."

Wonyoung leaned into Yujin's line of sight, her eyebrows arched in a skeptical challenge. "Are you sure about that? Because for someone who thinks he's 'nothing,' your face is really red, Yujin. Like, vending machine strawberry milk red."

"It’s because you pushed me into him!" Yujin shot back.

—

The day moved in its usual sequence. You moved from class to class, not paying attention to much of the outside distraction. After your final period, you bypassed the lingering crowds at the lockers and headed straight for the small deli across from the school. You sat by the window, focused on a sandwich and a notebook full of match notes, barely noticing the world passing by.

Karina found you there, sliding into the booth with a heavy sigh and a bag of chips she’d just bought.

"The 'Ace' in his natural habitat," she teased, kicking your foot under the table. "You look like you're preparing for war, not a tennis match."

"Stop calling me that. I’m just reviewing some footwork," you muttered, not looking up.

"Just eat your food, y/n." She stayed for ten minutes, the two of you talking in short, comfortable bursts about the upcoming tournament brackets. It was the only part of the day where you didn't feel like you were being "watched"—just two friends killing time before their respective grinds began.

When she left, you headed to the courts.

—

Practice finally ended for the volleyball team. The gym lights hummed as they flickered off, leaving the campus in a hazy, blue-tinted darkness. Wonyoung and Yujin walked side-by-side toward the school gates, their footsteps echoing against the pavement.

Wonyoung was busy adjusting her shirt, humming a melody under her breath, but Yujin was unusually quiet. Her eyes kept drifting toward the tennis courts, then back to the long, tree-lined sidewalk that led toward the residential district.

"Are you even listening?" Wonyoung asked, nudging her. "I was saying we should grab those strawberry lattes tomorrow before the session."

"Yeah... sorry. Lattes sound good," Yujin replied, but her gaze was already elsewhere.

They reached the corner of 4th and Main, the spot where their paths usually split. "Anyway, I'm turning here. My mom’s picking me up at the bakery," Wonyoung said, waving a hand. "Don't let the ghosts get you on the walk home, Yujin!"

Yujin laughed as she kept walking. "Goodnight, Wonyoung."

As soon as Wonyoung turned the corner and disappeared, the silence of the street felt twice as heavy. Yujin slowed her pace as she reached the specific stretch of sidewalk—the place where, two nights ago, she had watched you stop under the flickering streetlight.

She walked past the flickering light, her footsteps the only sound in the quiet air. She didn't feel disappointed, just... curious. It was like a puzzle piece was missing from the scenery. She eventually turned the corner toward her house, dismissing the thought of the "Ice King" as she focused on her own aching muscles and the homework waiting for her at home.

—

The 2:50 PM bell rang, signaling the end of the day for most, but for you, it was the start of the second shift. You were inside Room 1120, wiping down the whiteboard until it was blank. 

In sharp, uncompromising letters across the top of the board, you wrote: NO QUESTIONS ABOUT THE QUIZ.

Beneath it, you added a smaller, more blunt subtext: I do not know what is on the test. Do not ask for solutions.

The door creaked open, and Yuna stepped in. She wasn't carrying her usual stack of heavy textbooks—just a small bag and that signature, high-energy aura that always seemed to shrink the room. She was practically vibrating with energy, her notebook tucked under her arm as she made a beeline for the front row.

"Good afternoon, y/n! I’m ready for those derivatives today," she said, her voice bright enough to fill the empty room.

She stopped in her tracks, however, as her eyes landed on the board. Her bright expression shifted into a playful, exaggerated pout. She leaned against the edge of your desk, invading your personal space just enough to be noticeable, her chin propping up on her hand as she looked from the board back to you.

"Not even a hint?" Yuna asked, her voice dropping into a soft, honeyed tone. She tilted her head, her eyes searching yours for any sign of a crack in the 'Ice King' exterior. "Come on, y/n. I’ve been studying so hard my brain feels like it’s melting. Just a tiny 'yes' or 'no' on whether I should focus on the chain rule? It wouldn't hurt anyone."

"The board is clear, Yuna," you replied, your voice flat as you set the chalk down. You finally turned, meeting her gaze with a neutral stare. I’m just here to make sure you actually get this. If you understand the logic, the rest of it should be easy."

"Why don't you teach me then?" she said, a small, challenging smile playing on her lips.

You let out a short, breathy huff. "I am teaching you, Yuna. That’s what this session is for."

As she sat down, you glanced past her toward the hallway. Lingering just outside the door frame were Yeji and Ryujin. They weren't hiding, but they weren't coming in either—Yeji was leaning against the lockers with her arms crossed, watching you with a sharp, analytical gaze, while Ryujin stood beside her, looking bored but curious.

You set the eraser down. Without turning fully around, you projected your voice toward the open doorway. "You two. You might as well come in."

Yeji blinked, genuinely surprised you’d called them out so directly. Ryujin straightened up, pulling her hands out of her hoodie pockets as they both hovered at the threshold.

"Even if you’re not part of the class, you can just sit," you added, your tone flat and indifferent.

You sat at the desk beside Yuna, the scratch of your pencil against the paper rhythmically keeping time with the hum of the classroom. You were still breaking down derivatives, moving into the more complex chain rules that usually tripped people up.

"You have to treat the inner function as its own entity first," you murmured, circling a set of parentheses. "If you don't, the whole rate of change falls apart by the third step. See?"

You looked up to see if she understood, but Yuna wasn't looking at the math. Her chin was propped in her palm, and she was staring directly into your eyes, her expression one of pure, unblinking fascination. She was so close you could see the reflection of the overhead lights in her pupils. She didn't look away when you caught her; if anything, her gaze intensified, as if she were trying to see past the "Ice King" exterior.

A couple of tables over, Ryujin and Yeji were like a two-person jury. Ryujin leaned back, balancing her chair on two legs, a knowing smirk playing on her lips as she watched Yuna’s blatant attempt to distract you. Yeji remained more poised, her sharp eyes darting between your steady hand and Yuna’s face, clearly impressed—or amused—by your lack of reaction. They didn't say a word, but their silence was loud, a heavy weight of observation that made the air feel thick.

As you moved on to a second example, the classroom door began to swing open more frequently. The actual students were filtering in for the official start of office hours.

The quiet, focused bubble you had maintained began to thin as the room filled. The newcomers hesitated at the threshold, their footsteps faltering when they saw the "Ace" already deep in a session. They filtered in like a hushed tide, whispering behind their hands as they claimed the peripheral desks.

"Next example," you said, your voice remaining flat and professional despite the growing audience and Yuna's persistent staring. You tapped the paper with your pencil to draw her attention back down. "This one involves a trigonometric function. Pay attention to the sign change, or you'll get the slope backwards."

You didn't acknowledge the girls behind her, and you didn't acknowledge the students whispering by the lockers. You kept your focus entirely on the lead of your pencil, even as Yuna leaned in even closer, her eyes never leaving yours.

"Thanks for the 'one-on-one' time, y/n. I think I learned a lot more than just derivatives today."

She gave you a playful, two-finger salute and a wink that felt like a localized earthquake in the quiet room. Turning on her heel, she gathered her things and headed for the exit. Yeji and Ryujin stood up in sync, like a personal guard finally relieved of duty. Ryujin shot you a dry, knowing smirk as she passed, while Yeji gave a small, respectful nod.

The three girls stepped out into the hallway, the heavy door of the classroom clicking shut behind them. They hadn't gone far when they crossed paths with Wonyoung, Yujin, and Leeseo, who were heading toward the classroom for office hours.

"Oh, hey guys!" Yuna chirped, offering a bright wave.

"You're leaving already?" Wonyoung asked, pausing as the two groups met in the middle of the hall. 

"Yuna was just getting some 'clarification' on a few things," Ryujin said with a cryptic smirk.

The two groups brushed past each other, but the high ceilings of the hallway acted like a megaphone. As the distance grew, Yeji leaned toward Yuna, her voice low but perfectly audible to everyone in the hallway.

"So, are you actually going to do it?" Yeji asked, nudging Yuna. "Are you going to ask out y/n?"

Ryujin let out a short, amused huff. "Did you see the look in her eyes while he was tutoring her? I thought she was going to melt right onto the desk. She didn't hear a single word he said about math."

"He’s just so... unshakeable," Yuna countered, her voice trailing off with a hint of a giggle. "I’ve never seen anyone stay that calm with me sitting that close."

Yeji nudged her again, grinning. "So? Are you going to ask him out or what?"

"Not yet," Yuna replied, a playful but determined glint in her eyes as they rounded the corner. "I need to get closer to him first—actually make him see me, not just the math. If I ask now, he’ll probably just calculate the probability of me being a distraction and say no."

Behind them, the three girls slowed to a crawl. Leeseo’s jaw nearly dropped. "Did she just say she’s going to ask out y/n?" she whispered, looking at Wonyoung.

"Yuna and y/n..." she mused, adjusting the strap of her bag. She didn't look at Leeseo, though. Instead, she shifted her gaze sideways, her eyes narrowing as she studied Yujin’s profile, waiting for even a flicker of a reaction. "I guess that was inevitable. It's a collision course if I've ever heard one."

"You're not shocked?" Leeseo asked, looking between her two seniors.

"Not really," Wonyoung replied. "Yuna has half the guys in this school following her around like puppies, and y/n... well, half the girls in our year find an excuse to walk past the tennis courts every afternoon just to see him breathe. It was only a matter of time before the two of them ended up in the same room."

She leaned in slightly toward Yujin, her voice dropping to a teasing lilt. "Right, Yujin? They’d make quite the 'power couple,' wouldn’t they? It’s almost a shame for everyone else."

Yujin, however, remained quiet. She stood at the threshold of the classroom, her hand hovering near the door handle. She thought back to the empty, silent sidewalk from last night—the way the streetlights hit the spot where you weren't—and then pictured the scene the girls had just described: Yuna leaning over your desk, trying to crack your shell.

"I don’t think he's the type to be swayed just because someone is pretty," Yujin said calmly, her voice level and stripped of the excitement the others felt.

Leeseo’s eyes lit up instantly. She slowed her pace, leaning in toward Yujin with a mischievous, cat-like grin. "Oh, really? And how exactly do you know that, Yujin-unnie?" she teased, her voice dropping into a sing-song tone. "Have you been trying to sway him?"

Wonyoung let out a soft, amused hum, turning her head to study Yujin’s expression. "She has a point. You sounded very certain about his personality just now. Is there something you’re not telling us?"

Yujin didn't flush or stammer, but she did look away, her gaze fixing on the door handle of Room 1120. "It’s just an assumption. Let’s just get the session over with."

"If you say so," Leeseo whispered, still wearing that tiny, knowing smirk as they walked through the doors.

—

"You know, y/n," Wonyoung started, her voice sounding more conversational than teasing. "You should probably give Yujin the harder problems. She’s actually been finished with the main set for ten minutes while the rest of us are still struggling with the first page."

You paused, your pencil hovering over a worksheet. You hadn't noticed the time, but Wonyoung was right. You glanced over at Yujin’s desk. She wasn't making a show of being finished; she was just sitting there quietly, reviewing her steps with a calm intensity.

"She’s surprisingly good at this," Wonyoung added, leaning back and nudging Yujin’s shoulder with a smile. "Most people come in here to talk, but she actually looks like she’s in her element. You two are kind of similar when you're focused."

Yujin looked up then, her eyes meeting yours for a brief second. She looked a little caught off guard by Wonyoung’s sudden praise, but she didn't look away. "I just like the logic of it," she said softly. "It makes sense."

You let out a breath—not a sigh of annoyance, just a quiet release of the day’s tension. You weren't a robot, after all; you were just tired. You looked at Yujin’s notebook, seeing the neat, organized rows of numbers that mirrored the way you liked to work.

"It’s rare to see someone actually check their work before handing it in," you admitted, your voice losing some of its sharp edge. It wasn't a compliment, exactly, but for you, it was a high form of recognition. "Wonyoung’s right. If you’re that far ahead, you don't have to sit through the review. You’re doing well, Yujin."

Yujin’s face turns light pink and gives a small, almost imperceptible nod, a tiny bit of the tension leaving her shoulders. "Thanks," she murmured.

Wonyoung grinned, satisfied with herself. She hadn't forced a "moment," but she’d managed to pull your eyes away from the chalkboard and onto Yujin.

The session finally came to a close as the distant chime of the school bell echoed through the halls. You began gathering your papers into a neat stack, the sharp sound of your stapler puncturing the quiet.

Wonyoung stood up first, stretching her arms with a graceful yawn, while Leeseo, on the other side of the room, scrambled to shove her homework into her bag. Yujin was the last to stand, carefully sliding her perfectly completed worksheet into her folder before looking up at you one last time.

"Good work today," you said, your voice calm.

As they stepped out into the hallway and the door swung shut behind them, the shift in energy was immediate. They started walking toward the gym, their sneakers squeaking against the polished floor.

Yujin turned to Wonyoung, her eyes narrowed and her pace quickening. "Wonyoung, what was that back there? What are you doing?"

Wonyoung didn't even look over, a playful, satisfied hum vibrating in her throat. "What? I was just praising you. Is it a crime to tell the truth?"

"You were being... extra," Yujin countered, her voice low as she checked to make sure no other students were listening. "You didn't have to tell him I was 'in my element.' or whatever. It was embarrassing."

Wonyoung finally stopped at the locker room entrance, turning to face Yujin with a mischievous smirk that made her look entirely too innocent to be trusted.

"I was just helping him notice the right things, Yujin. Besides..." She leaned in closer, "It shouldn't be a problem, right? Especially since you told us nothing was going on between you two. If there’s no feelings, there’s no reason to be flustered."

Yujin opened her mouth to argue, but the words died in her throat. She could feel Leeseo watching them with wide, curious eyes, waiting for her response.

"There’s nothing going on," Yujin finally muttered, adjusting the strap of her heavy bag. "I just want to pass the class."

Not the kind from cold. Not even the kind from rage. This was different. Fine, ugly tremors running through her whole body, as if every muscle had forgotten how to hold itself together.

Y/n blinked.

He had expected fury.

Hatred. Curses. A desire to tear the city apart and drag Eun-joon back by the throat.

Instead, Isa looked terrified.

Not dramatic. Not loud. Just raw, immediate fear that had slipped past all her defenses before she could stop it.

Golden light flickered over her skin.

“Isa?”

She stepped back so quickly she nearly hit the balcony door.

“I need to think,” she said.

Another pulse of light.

Then she folded inward.

The green sweater and pajama pants collapsed in a soft heap on the cold balcony floor, and in the middle of them was Isa again in cat form, small and black and rigid with fear.

Y/n stared.

Isa did not hiss. Did not bolt. Did not bare her teeth.

She just stood there for a fraction of a second, tiny chest rising too fast, eyes huge.

Then she ran straight to him.

Not away.

To him.

She hit his ankle in a blur of black fur and panicked and started climbing his leg with frantic little scrabbling claws until he cursed and bent down on reflex, scooping her up before she could fall.

The second she was in his arms, she pressed herself against him so hard it almost hurt.

Y/n froze.

Isa had leaned on him before. Curled in his lap. Headbutted his hand. Slept on his chest.

This was not that.

This was clutching.

Need, stripped clean of pride.

Her tiny body was shaking violently against his ribs, paws digging into his shirt as if he were the only solid thing left in the world.

Y/n’s confusion vanished under a rush of protectiveness so fierce it startled him.

“Okay,” he said immediately, voice low and steady even though his own heart had started hammering. “Okay. I’ve got you. We’re going inside.”

He pulled the balcony door open and stepped back into the apartment, kicking it shut behind them with his heel. He locked it. Then locked it again even though that did nothing against magic. Then pulled the curtains closed with one rough motion.

Isa stayed glued to him the entire time.

Y/n looked down at the small black cat crushed against his chest and felt something twist painfully in him.

Why was she scared?

Should she not be furious?

Eun-joon had ruined her life. Stolen her body. Forced her through pain and hunger and death and helplessness. Every story Y/n had ever heard about revenge said this moment should have lit her up from the inside out.

But that was not what he was holding.

He was holding someone reliving terror.

Someone who had survived? Yes, but had not come out of it untouched.

That realization hit him harder than it should have. Maybe because some part of him had still been imagining Isa as unbreakable. Sharp enough to wound, strong enough to withstand anything.

But fear lived in strong people too. Especially in strong people who had already been hurt.

Y/n sat down on the couch with her still in his arms.

“It’s okay,” he murmured, though he knew that was not true and maybe not the right thing to say. “You’re here. You’re safe. I’m here.”

Isa made a small sound in her throat. Not a meow. Not quite. Something rougher. Childishly helpless in a way she would probably hate later.

He ran one hand slowly down her back.

She trembled harder.

Y/n swallowed. “Talk to me?”

Her ears flattened.

He let out a breath and tried again. “No, okay. Sorry. You don’t have to talk.”

He was still not used to this. To the difference between what she could understand and what she could express in this form. It made moments like this feel almost unbearable.

How much fear could fit in a body that small?

A lot, apparently.

He shifted her carefully and tucked the blanket from the couch around both of them. Isa immediately burrowed deeper into his shirt, pressing her face under his chin.

His chest tightened.

“Isa,” he whispered, “I thought you’d want to kill him.”

The second the words left his mouth, he regretted them.

But Isa did not pull away.

She did not react with anger at all.

Instead she went very still.

And then, against his collarbone, Y/n felt it.

A tiny, shaking exhale.

He looked down.

Her eyes were squeezed shut.

Suddenly he understood.

Not fully. Not all at once. But enough.

Hatred came after.

Fear came first.

You hated the thing that hurt you, yes. But if it had broken you badly enough, if it had found the exact shape of your helplessness and twisted there until something tore, then seeing it again could drag all that old terror back before your anger had time to put its face on.

Y/n’s throat went dry.

He wrapped both arms around her more securely.

“You don’t have to be angry right now,” he said quietly. “You can just be scared.”

Isa did not move.

But after a second, one paw flexed weakly against his shirt.

As if she had heard him. As if she had needed to.

The apartment felt too exposed after that. Too full of windows, too many thin walls between them and the city. Y/n checked the locks twice more. Then once on the balcony door. Then stood in the middle of the living room feeling stupid and furious and helpless in equal measure.

He looked down at Isa.

She was still tucked against him. Not even pretending otherwise.

His heart hurt.

“All right,” he said softly. “New rule. You don’t leave my sight tonight.”

Her ear twitched.

He almost laughed, but there was no room for that in him yet.

He sat back down and opened his laptop with one hand while holding her with the other. He searched everything he could think of about home wards, anti-scrying charms, human-safe protections, magical concealment. Most of it made no sense. Some of it was contradictory. Several websites were definitely scams.

He ended up pushing the laptop away with a muttered curse.

“Useless.”

Isa finally stirred, lifting her head enough to look at him.

He looked back at her. “I’m trying.”

—

A long moment passed.

Then she pressed her nose once against the base of his throat and tucked herself back under his chin.

That tiny gesture nearly undid him.

Hours seemed to pass like that.

He kept the lights low. Left the TV off. Made tea he forgot to drink. The apartment went quiet around them, the kind of deep late-night quiet that made every tiny sound feel exaggerated.

At some point Isa’s trembling eased. Not gone, but less frantic. Her breathing settled from sharp little pants to something more even.

Y/n did not move unless he had to.

His arm fell asleep. His back ached. He did not care.

He wanted to ask a hundred things.

Why was Eun-joon panicked?

Why had seeing her in human form mattered so much?

Why had he looked at Y/n like that?

And most of all, why had Isa looked like she had been dragged back to the rooftop all over again?

But none of those questions felt safe right now.

So instead he said, very softly, “He can’t have you.”

Isa’s ear twitched against his neck.

“I don’t care who he is,” Y/n continued, voice low and stubborn. “He doesn’t get to just decide your life. He doesn’t get to use me against you either.”

At that, Isa stiffened.

Y/n felt it immediately.

He looked down.

Her eyes had opened. Wide. Reflective in the dim light.

And there it was.

Another kind of fear.

Not fear for herself.

For him.

The realization slid into place and made something heavy settle in his stomach.

“Is that it?” he asked quietly. “Are you scared because of me?”

Isa did not move.

But she also did not look away.

Y/n swallowed. “He looked at me.”

Still nothing.

He exhaled, sharp and slow. “Right. Okay.”

He understood enough now to hate it.

Of course Eun-joon would use him.

Of course he would turn kindness into leverage. Safety into weakness. People like that always did.

Y/n stared at the dark window, jaw tight.

Beside his heartbeat, Isa had gone very still again.

Then the golden light came back.

It started beneath his hands. A faint warmth under fur. A shimmer that lifted the tiny hairs along her spine.

Y/n sat bolt upright.

“Isa?”

She jerked in his arms, suddenly frantic.

The shift hit hard this time.

Light rolled over her body in quick, uneven pulses. Too fast. Too jagged.

“Wait, wait,” Y/n muttered, trying to keep hold of her without hurting her.

Then all at once the cat in his arms became a woman.

Human Isa half-collapsed against him, tangled in the blanket and his arms and her own shaking limbs. One second he was holding a tiny animal. The next he had a terrified girl in his lap, breathing hard enough to make her whole frame shudder.

“Isa?”

She shoved away from him so abruptly he let go on reflex.

Not because she did not want him. More like she could not bear to be still inside her own skin.

She got to her feet and immediately started pacing.

No direction. No purpose. Three quick steps toward the kitchen. Turn. Two toward the hallway. Stop. Hand in her hair. Back to the balcony door. Away again. Like panic had filled her body and was forcing motion out of it.

Y/n stood too.

“Isa?”

She was muttering under her breath now. Fragments. Not even full thoughts.

“He saw me. No, no, no. He saw. That means he knows. He knows. He knows where. If he knows where then he can wait and if he waits then he can watch and if he watches then you’re...” She cut herself off with a shaky inhale and grabbed at her own arms. “Stupid. I was stupid. I should’ve seen him. I should’ve felt him. I should’ve...”

“Isa.”

She paced past him like she had not heard.

“I need to leave.”

Y/n’s stomach dropped. “What?”

“I need to go.”

“No.”

Her head snapped toward him. “He’ll use you.”

“I figured that out.”

“So I need to go.”

She said it like it was obvious. Like it was decided. Like her own absence was the simplest solution in the world.

Y/n’s chest hurt with sudden, sharp understanding.

Of course.

This was her pattern. This was what she meant by martyr, by leaving to protect people, by acting like the only currency she had was her own disappearance.

“Isa,” he said carefully, “don’t do that.”

“Do what?”

“That.” He stepped toward her. “Decide for both of us.”

Her laugh was thin and ugly. “This is not a both-of-us problem.”

“Yes, it is.”

“No, it’s my curse. My enemy. My mistake.”

“And now my apartment, my safety, my life too. That makes it both of us.”

She shook her head violently. “You don’t understand.”

“Then explain it to me.”

Her eyes flashed. “He will hurt you because of me.”

The words cracked out of her like a confession.

Y/n did not flinch.

Instead he took one more step forward. “Then we deal with that.”

“No.” She backed away. “No, we don’t. I leave before he gets the chance.”

“Absolutely not.”

“Why not?”

“Because I’m not letting you run into the night alone because some psychopath looked at me.”

“He won’t stop.”

“Neither will I.”

Something in her face twisted then, anger and fear and grief all colliding at once.

“You don’t know what he can do,” she whispered.

Y/n looked at her and saw it all over again. The rooftop. The alley. The deaths she had admitted quietly like they were old weather. The fact that she was not overreacting. She was remembering.

Still, he said, “Maybe not. But I know what leaving would do to you.”

Isa blinked.

“And I know what it would do to me too,” he added before he could stop himself.

That landed.

Her expression changed. Just for a second. Enough.

Then she looked away.

“I can’t stay if it puts you in danger.”

Y/n’s voice softened. “You don’t get rid of me that easily.”

That should have been light.

Instead it broke something.

Isa made one sharp, helpless sound and turned away from him, one hand over her mouth as if she could physically hold the rest inside.

Her shoulders shook.

Y/n moved before he thought.

He crossed the room in two steps and caught her.

Not hard. Not trapping. Just his arms around her from behind, one hand splayed gently against her upper arm, the other around her waist, holding on.

Isa went rigid.

Then she struggled once. Barely. More from habit than intent.

“Let go,” she whispered.

“No.”

“Y/n...”

“No.”

His voice was quiet, but there was something unmovable in it now.

He turned her gently, enough to face him. Enough that she could see there was no fear in him. Only worry. Only a kind of stubborn softness she clearly had no defenses against.

“You are not leaving like this,” he said.

Her eyes were already wet.

“I have to.”

“You don’t.”

“He’ll hurt you.”

“Maybe.” He swallowed. “But you don’t get to throw yourself away to spare me the choice.”

At that, Isa’s face crumpled.

She tried to look away again. He did not let her pull far. He only drew her in.

And then she broke.

Not elegantly. Not quietly. It tore out of her all at once, a ragged sob she clearly had not intended to let exist.

Her hands grabbed the front of his shirt.

Y/n’s arms tightened around her immediately.

“It’s okay,” he whispered, though again he knew that was not the point. “It’s okay. I’ve got you.”

Isa shook her head against his chest. “No. No, you don’t understand, I can’t... I can’t do this again.”

His breath caught.

“Again?”

Her voice was muffled in his shirt, broken by tears.

“I can’t be the reason someone gets hurt again. I can’t watch him take and take and take because of me. I can’t survive it if...” The sentence dissolved. She clutched him harder. “I can’t.”

Y/n held her like he could keep every terrible thing in the world from reaching her if he just did not let go.

“Then don’t do it alone,” he said, into her hair, into the trembling line of her shoulder. “Please. Just... don’t do it alone.”

Isa cried harder.

It was different from before on the couch. Not quiet leaking tears she had not noticed. This was years of pressure finding a crack.

Fear. Exhaustion. Humiliation. Guilt. Rage. Grief. Everything she had carried because carrying it alone was the only option she had believed in.

Y/n did not tell her to calm down.

Did not tell her to be strong.

He just stood there in the middle of his tiny apartment and held her while she came apart.

And slowly, very slowly, something changed.

At first neither of them noticed.

It started as warmth.

A faint gold glow beneath Isa’s skin where her face was pressed against his chest. Not enough to light the room. Just enough to pulse soft and steady with each shaky breath.

Y/n only saw it because her shoulder was in his line of sight.

He blinked.

The glow did not flare like her usual shifts. It did not stutter. It spread.

Delicate threads of gold moved through the air around them like dust caught in sunlight. They curled around Isa’s wrists, her throat, her spine. For an instant, Y/n thought they looked like cracks in glass healing backward, knitting together instead of splitting apart.

He did not know what he was seeing.

But he knew it did not feel dangerous.

Isa only clung to him tighter.

“Y/n,” she whispered, voice wrecked, “I’m scared.”

The honesty of it nearly destroyed him.

He cupped the back of her head and pressed his cheek to her hair.

“I know,” he said. “I know. You can be scared with me. You don’t have to hide it.”

Something in the golden light brightened.

A pulse. Warm. Deep.

Isa sucked in a breath, as if she felt it too.

But she did not pull away.

Maybe she could not.

Maybe some truer part of her no longer wanted to.

Y/n’s hand moved slowly up and down her back in a rhythm that was more instinct than thought. Comfort. Presence. Here. Still here.

And under that touch, under the safety of being held without condition, without demand, without being asked to be useful or brave or weaponized, the curse shifted.

Not broken.

Not yet.

But loosened.

Somewhere deep in the knots Eun-joon had tied around her soul, a thread gave way.

Isa let out another sob, softer now, and her knees almost buckled.

Y/n held her up without hesitation.

“You can fall apart,” he murmured. “I’m not going anywhere.”

It was such a small sentence.

It hit her like a blow.

She pulled back just enough to look at him, tears all over her face, hair a mess, eyes wide and naked in a way he had never seen before.

“Why?” she whispered.

He knew what she meant.

Why stay?

Why care?

Why me?

Y/n’s own throat tightened.

Because somewhere between finding her broken in an alley and listening to her breathe in his apartment at night, she had become woven into the shape of his days. Because the place beside him no longer felt empty when she was there. Because her sarcasm and stubbornness and fierce heart had made his small life feel bigger. Because when she looked at him, he felt seen too.

He could not say all of that. Not yet. Maybe he was afraid of it. Maybe he did not have words good enough.

So he just answered with the truth he could hold.

“Because you matter to me.”

Isa stared.

The gold around them trembled.

For one terrifying second, Y/n thought she might bolt anyway. That she might hear the confession hidden inside those softer words and run from that too.

Instead, she made a broken sound and buried herself back against him.

He closed his eyes and held on.

Minutes passed.

Or maybe longer.

Eventually her sobs eased into shuddering breaths. Then into silence, except for the occasional hitch she could not quite control.

Y/n never loosened his arms.

At some point they ended up half-sitting on the floor, backs against the couch, Isa tucked into him like she had nowhere else to go. He did not know when they moved. He did not care.

The room smelled faintly of tea gone cold and city rain through the cracked balcony seal.

The gold glow had faded, but not entirely. A few soft sparks still clung to the edges of Isa’s hair before dissolving into nothing.

Neither of them saw the way the collar at her throat had gone fractionally duller, the metal less burdened somehow, as if one tiny piece of old poison had burned away.

Neither of them understood that the curse was not only a prison of shape and magic, but of isolation. That every moment Isa let herself be held instead of leaving, every moment she chose trust over martyrdom, loosened another hidden knot.

Neither of them knew that healing had already begun.

Y/n rested his chin lightly on top of her head.

“Still want to run?” he asked after a long while, voice careful and quiet.

Isa was silent.

Then she said, in a small, exhausted voice, “A little.”

He smiled sadly. “Honest.”

“I’m trying.”

“I know.”

Another pause.

Then, almost grudgingly, “Not right this second.”

Y/n’s smile softened. “I’ll take it.”

She let out the tiniest huff of something that might have been a laugh.

It made his chest feel too full.

He looked down at her. “Can you tell me what he looked panicked about?”

Isa tensed again, but less violently this time.

“I think...” She swallowed. “I think seeing me human scared him.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know.” Her brows drew together. “The curse shouldn’t be this unstable, maybe. Not without a trigger. Not without...” She pressed her lips together, frustrated. “It’s like there’s something my mind keeps skidding over.”

“The loophole?”

“Maybe.”

Y/n nodded slowly.

A thought occurred to him.

“When you shifted tonight,” he said, “you were calm before he showed up. On the balcony. Then after seeing him, you turned cat again. But when you were scared inside, you shifted human.”

Isa frowned. “So?”

“So maybe it’s not random.”

She looked up at him.

He felt vaguely ridiculous, trying to theorize magical transformation mechanics while holding a crying cursed girl on his apartment floor, but here they were.

“Maybe emotion affects it,” he said. “Not just energy. Maybe safety does. Maybe closeness. Maybe stress pushes one way and comfort pushes another.”

Isa stared at him.

“That sounds made up.”

“It does, but so does your entire life.”

She was quiet for a second.

Then, reluctantly, “You might not be wrong.”

He gave a little shrug. “I’m apparently full of terrible school project insights.”

This time, she really did laugh. Tiny and damp, but real.

Y/n smiled.

The sound faded, but the warmth of it lingered.

“Okay,” he said. “Then new plan.”

“You and your plans.”

“Yes. My plans are excellent.”

“They’re mediocre at best.”

He pretended to consider this. “Rude, but noted.”

Isa settled a little more heavily against him. He took that as permission to keep going.

“Tomorrow we do two things. One, figure out if your shifts correlate to anything. Time, touch, stress, rest, whatever. Two, we prepare for Eun-joon.”

Her body stiffened slightly at the name. Y/n immediately smoothed a hand along her arm.

“He’s not here right now,” he said softly. “Just planning. Okay?”

After a moment, she nodded.

“Okay.”

He looked at the curtained balcony door, then at the scattered books, then at the dim shape of their lives pressed together on the floor.

Somewhere in him, fear still lived. Fear for her. Fear for himself. Fear of how badly this could all go.

But there was something else too.

Resolve, maybe.

And beneath it, quieter and more dangerous, affection growing roots.

He did not say that part out loud.

Instead he shifted carefully and reached for the blanket draped over the couch, pulling it around both of them.

Isa watched him with tired eyes.

“You really aren’t going anywhere?” she asked.

The vulnerability in the question nearly hurt.

“No,” he said.

“Even now?”

“Yes.”

“Even if he comes back?”

Y/n held her gaze.

“Yes.”

She looked at him for a long time.

Then, very slowly, she nodded and let her eyes close.

A few minutes later her breathing deepened into sleep.

He stayed exactly where he was, one arm around her, the other resting over the blanket.

Outside, the city kept humming.

Inside, in the quiet after terror, in the middle of a tiny apartment full of half-read books and cold tea and borrowed sweaters, a curse began to come undone by inches.

And far across the city, in a shadowed car with dark windows, Eun-joon sat motionless with one gloved hand tight around his phone.

He replayed the image in his mind over and over.

Isa in human form.

On a balcony.

At ease.

With a human man beside her.

Impossible.

Unless the curse was destabilizing.

Unless someone had become important.

His jaw tightened.

Then, slowly, he smiled.

Not because he was calm.

Because he had found the pressure point.

He tapped once on the dark phone screen, opened a blank message, and began typing a note to himself.

A name.

An address.

And beneath it, one line.

Use him first.

—

Sunlight pulled Y/n out of sleep before his alarm did.

It was a soft kind of light, filtered through curtains that had not been fully closed. Warm across his face, warm across the blankets. For a few seconds, he floated in that hazy space between dreaming and waking, mind empty, body comfortable.

Then he tried to roll over.

Something stopped him.

Something warm and heavy and very much not a blanket draped over his side, arm over his waist, breath stirring gently against the back of his neck.

Every nerve in his body lit up at once.

He went very still.

Slowly, carefully, he opened his eyes and glanced down.

A slender arm was wrapped snugly around his middle. A small hand rested on his stomach, fingers curled lightly in his shirt. Dark hair spilled over his pillow, some of it tickling his jaw. A knee was tucked against the back of his thigh. And pressed against his back, sharing his pillow, breathing slow and deep, was Isa.

Human Isa.

Y/n stared at the wall.

For a moment, the only thing he could hear was his own heartbeat slamming against his ribs.

He swallowed silently.

Okay.

Okay.

This was fine.

This was happening.

His cursed ex-cat roommate was cuddling him in bed.

He was not prepared for this level of intimacy before coffee.

Careful not to move too fast, he tilted his head back just enough to see her.

She was asleep.

Really asleep. Not pretending. Not half-alert. Her face, pressed partly into the pillow, had lost its usual tension. No furrow between her brows. No tight line to her jaw. Her lips were parted just slightly, breath slow and even. One lock of hair was caught against his neck.

Up close like this, she looked younger.

Not by age. By weight.

Like some of the years had slid off in the night and left just the girl underneath all the Guardian and curse and fight.

Something warm and dangerous moved through his chest.

Affection, sharp and deep and uninvited.

He had liked her from the moment she glared at him as a half-dead cat in that alley. He had cared long before he had any right to. Somewhere between the sarcasm and the stupid fights about harnesses and her laughing at his teenage haircut, that care had curled into something more.

Seeing her like this did not help.

He wanted to stay exactly where they were.

He also wanted to panic.

He compromised by lying very, very still and letting himself feel it quietly, just for a moment.

The realization slipped in as gently as her breath against his neck.

He was falling for her.

Maybe he already had.

But saying it, even in his own head, felt like touching an alarm he was not ready to set off.

So he did what he always did with things he was not ready for.

He tucked it away.

Carefully, carefully, he reached down with his free hand and lifted hers just enough to check her wrist.

Her pulse under his fingertips was steady.

The contact made her fingers tighten reflexively around his shirt.

Y/n froze.

Isa sighed in her sleep and burrowed even closer, chin brushing his shoulder, breath warm against his skin.

He had no idea what to do with his own hands.

Eventually, she shifted slightly and her lashes fluttered.

He felt it the second she started to wake. The tiny shift in her breathing. The faint tension returning to her shoulders. The way her fingers flexed once against his shirt.

Then she went still in that specific, guilty way of someone realizing they were in a compromising position.

“Y/n?” she whispered.

Her voice was rough with sleep, softer than usual.

He swallowed. “Yeah.”

A beat.

“Why are you in my bed?”

He blinked. “This is my bed.”

Another beat of silence.

“Oh.”

It was absurd.

They were tangled together, her arm around him, one of his ankles hooked over one of hers without him even remembering how that happened, and they were having a territorial debate over furniture.

He almost laughed.

He did not trust his voice enough.

Instead he said, very quietly, “You shifted in the night, I think.”

He felt, more than saw, her nod.

“Did I hit you?” she asked.

“What?”

“Sometimes when I shift fast my paws kick.”

He huffed a tiny breath that might have been a laugh. “No. You did not cat-kick me.”

“Good.”

More silence.

He could feel her thinking.

He could almost see it. Isa realizing where her arm was. How close their bodies were. How firmly she was pressed against his back. He felt the exact moment awareness hit her like a truck.

Her arm jerked as if to pull away.

Instinct moved faster than thought.

Y/n caught her hand.

Just a light grip, but definite.

She froze.

“I don’t mind,” he said quickly, before she could twist everything into discomfort and apology. “It’s okay.”

Her breath stuttered.

For a second he thought he had pushed too far.

Then, slowly, her muscles eased by a fraction.

They stayed like that.

Not quite like before. Now they were both awake, and that made every point of contact hum with awareness. Her arm around him was less unconscious, more careful. His hand over hers was not an accident anymore.

Y/n stared at the cheap paint on his bedroom wall and ordered his racing thoughts to calm down.

He did not want to make this weird for her.

He did not want to be one more person who took something from her without asking.

So after a moment, he gently shifted, giving her space.

“You want me to move?” he asked.

Isa was quiet.

Then, to his surprise, “No.”

The word was very soft.

His heart did something complicated.

He exhaled slowly, letting his own tension bleed out.

“Okay,” he said.

They lay like that for a few breaths longer.

Then Isa sucked in air as if she had just surfaced from deep water.

“We should get up,” she said quickly. “We have work to do.”

There it was.

He smiled faintly. “Duty calls.”

“Don’t make fun of me.”

“I’m not.”

She disentangled herself carefully, clearly overthinking every part of the process now that she was conscious. Knees and elbows and hair got in the way. At one point their faces ended up way too close and both of them flinched back at the same time like teenagers in a drama.

Eventually she escaped the bed with most of her dignity and padded toward the bathroom, wearing one of his long t-shirts that brushed mid-thigh and looked infuriatingly good on her.

Y/n lay there alone for a moment, staring at the ceiling.

He touched the place on his side where her arm had been.

Then he got up too.

They moved through the morning routine like nothing had changed. Like they had not just woken up wrapped around each other.

Y/n made coffee. Isa sat at the table, knees tucked up, nursing her tea with both hands around the mug. Her hair was pulled back in a haphazard half-tie. A faint redness still clung to the skin under her eyes from the night before, but there was a steadiness in her gaze that had not been there yesterday.

He noticed.

She caught him noticing and raised an eyebrow.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

She narrowed her eyes. “You are bad at lying.”

“I was not lying.”

“You were thinking something.”

“I always think something, that is how brains work.”

She stared until he sighed.

“You look less...” He gestured vaguely at his own chest. “Tight. Today.”

Her expression softened, just a little.

“I slept,” she said.

“With me.”

She nearly choked on her tea.

He went red. “I mean physically in the vicinity. In the same... okay, I hear it now, that sounded bad.”

Isa cleared her throat and hid half her face behind her mug. “You are so awkward.”

“100 percent correct.”

He busied himself with toast.

Breakfast done, they reviewed their plan.

“Council archives are a long shot,” Isa said, leaning over the table where he had made another list. “They do not exactly hand out classified curse details.”

“But you have some access, right?”

“Probably. Maybe. If I can get into any of my old channels without setting off a trace.”

He frowned. “Trace?”

“They monitor Guardian log-ins. If I go poking around the wrong files, someone will notice.”

“And that is bad because...?”

“Because I did not tell them I am here.” She gave him a dry look. “And technically they think I am dead.”

He stared. “You did not tell them you survived?”

“I told you. Politics.” She shrugged one shoulder. “After I got cursed, they had a funeral and moved on. If I show up suddenly, I become a problem. Questions. Blame. PR nightmares. Easier for them if I stay gone and my curse is just an unsolved mystery.”

Y/n made a face. “Your bosses suck.”

“Welcome to my world.”

“Fine. So Council archives are last resort.” He tapped the paper. “What about neutral magic circles? Libraries? Old contacts who hate Eun-joon more than they like rules?”

Isa considered. “I might know someone.”

“Who?”

“A witch. Independent. She hates both the Council and Eun-joon equally. She might help just to spite them.”

He brightened. “That sounds perfect.”

“It also sounds like a trap waiting to happen if she decides betraying us is funnier.”

He hesitated. “So... not perfect.”

Isa hummed thoughtfully. “Still our best lead.”

Y/n nodded. “Then we try.”

They agreed on a time to go. Afternoon, when the streets were busy enough that they could blend in, but not so packed that Isa would be overwhelmed by cramped spaces.

When they stepped outside, she stayed human.

Y/n noticed immediately.

“Are you sure?” he asked quietly, pausing in the stairwell. “We can go when you are a cat if that feels safer.”

Isa shook her head. “If Eun-joon is looking for a cat, I would rather he sees a woman.”

He winced. “That sentence is backwards and somehow makes sense.”

She snorted.

He watched her as they walked.

Down three flights of narrow stairs, past the neighbor’s door that always smelled like kimchi, out into the cool air that carried car exhaust and street food and the faint smell of impending rain.

Isa kept close without making it obvious.

Their shoulders would brush every so often. Her hand hovered near his jacket sleeve once, like she was tempted to hold on and then thought better of it.

Y/n pretended not to notice for both their sakes.

He did notice something else.

They walked two blocks.

Then four.

Then seven.

They bought kimbap from a corner stall and ate it on the move.

They passed a bus stop, a convenience store, a group of students arguing loudly about a drama finale.

Through all of it, Isa stayed human.

He checked the time on his phone.

An hour.

An hour and a half.

Previously, her longest stable stretch had been maybe twenty or thirty minutes before her magic forced her back to fur.

He slowed a bit to walk beside her. “How do you feel?”

She glanced at him. “Walking.”

“I mean your magic. Your head.”

She thought about it. “Strange.”

“Strange how?”

“Like... something inside loosened its grip.” She frowned slightly. “Like the curse is still there, but it is... less tight.”

He remembered the golden threads from last night.

His chest tightened, but in a hopeful way.

“Do you see this as progress?” he asked.

Isa walked in silence for a few steps.

Then, slowly, “Yeah. I think so.”

He smiled before he could stop himself.

“That is good,” he said, too brightly.

She glanced over and caught the look on his face.

“What?” she demanded.

“Nothing.”

“Liar.”

“You are improving, okay? I am allowed to be happy about that.”

The annoyance in her expression faltered.

She ducked her head, dark hair falling partly over her face. “Yeah, well. Do not get attached. It could reverse.”

“I am going to ignore that pessimism.”

“It is realism.”

“It is fear. Which is allowed. But I am still allowed to be happy when you stay on two legs for more than twenty minutes.”

Her lips twitched despite herself. “You are very fixated on my legs.”

He almost tripped over a crack in the sidewalk.

“No. I did not. That is not what I meant.”

Her mouth curved properly this time. “Relax. I know.”

He looked at her through the corner of his eye.

“You are mean,” he muttered, no real heat in it.

“You like it.”

Unfortunately, he did.

They found the witch in a tea shop that pretended very hard not to be a place of magic.

From the outside, it was all wooden signage and potted plants and a hand-painted menu with overpriced lattes. Inside, the shelves were lined with jars of loose leaf teas, each labeled with calming names. Sleep blend. Focus blend. Heart ease.

Isa took one look at the layout and snorted quietly. “Of course she went capitalist.”

A woman in her forties with ink-black hair and sharp eyes looked up from behind the counter.

Her gaze lingered on Isa.

Then on Y/n.

Then back to Isa.

“Chaeyoung,” she said. “I heard you were dead.”

Isa’s mouth tightened. “You heard wrong, Sieun.”

Sieun’s eyes flicked down to the collar peeking from under Isa’s sweater.

“Ah,” she said mildly. “Or not wrong enough.”

Isa bristled.

Y/n stepped slightly closer to her without thinking.

Sieun noticed.

“You brought a human,” she observed.

Isa hesitated. “He is with me.”

“With you how?”

“Helping.”

The witch hummed as if that answer told her more than it actually had.

She made them tea.

She listened to Isa’s version of the curse story with a dispassionate face, only occasionally interrupted by thoughtful hums or tiny scoffs at Eun-joon’s arrogance. She examined Isa’s collar without touching it, lips pressed thin. She flipped through one of the books Y/n had brought with faint disdain.

Then she made a face. “I should have charged more.”

Isa blinked. “What?”

“For your time on the rooftop,” Sieun said. “I did not realize you would go and get yourself wrapped in one of the oldest binds we have.”

Y/n frowned. “Oldest binds?”

“Transmutation curses with emotional seals,” she said, as if it were obvious. “Classic warlock move. Very dramatic. Very unstable.”

Isa leaned forward. “You know how it works?”

“I know parts.” Sieun poured herself more tea. “The shape is old. The function is unpleasant. The escape clause is ridiculous.”

Y/n’s heart jumped. “You mean the loophole.”

The witch’s eyes slid to him. “You know about that?”

“Not the details,” he said. “Just that there is one.”

“And you want me to tell you.”

Isa’s jaw clenched. “You cannot?”

“Interesting.” Sieun sat back. “You have a block.”

Isa gritted her teeth. “So it is obvious.”

“To anyone with half a brain,” the witch said. “Warlocks do love their gag orders. Less risk of clever guardians turning their own curses on them.”

Y/n leaned forward. “Can you get around it?”

“Maybe.” Sieun tapped her fingers against the cup. “But you might not like the answer.”

“Try us,” Isa said.

The witch studied her for a long moment.

Then she smiled, small and a little sad.

“You are already doing it,” she said.

Isa stared. “What?”

“You heard me.” Sieun nodded toward Y/n. “You brought him. You are here together. You are not hiding from him. You cry in front of him.”

Isa stiffened. “I did not cry in front of him.”

Sieun arched an eyebrow. “I can smell it.”

Isa’s face went red. “You are disgusting.”

The witch ignored her.

“His presence nudged your curse,” she said calmly. “That is why you can be human longer now. That is why your shifts are smoothing out. The leash is losing slack.”

Y/n glanced at Isa.

She met his eyes quickly, then looked away.

“Why him?” Y/n asked before he could stop himself. “I mean... any human? Or...”

“No,” Sieun said. “Not any. Someone specifically. Someone the curse considers... resonant.”

“That is not an answer,” Isa snapped.

The witch gave her a long, assessing look. “The loophole is simple and very old-fashioned.”

Isa leaned in despite herself.

“What is it?” Y/n asked.

Sieun opened her mouth.

Nothing came out.

Her tongue pressed against her teeth. Her throat moved. Her lips shaped silent syllables.

No sound.

Her brows drew together.

“Interesting,” she murmured.

“What now?” Isa demanded.

“The gag order extends,” Sieun said, annoyed. “Not just to you. To anyone who understands the curse structure and tries to explain it to you directly.” She clicked her tongue. “Paranoid bastard. I have to at least admire the thoroughness.”

Y/n frowned. “So you know but you cannot say.”

“Yes.”

“Can you write it?”

She reached for a napkin and pen.

Her hand started to move.

The ink did not appear.

The pen touched paper and nothing came out.

Sieun looked up at them. “Very thorough.”

Isa swore under her breath.

“Can you... hint?” Y/n tried.

“Hints skirt the edge of the block,” Sieun said. “The more direct I get, the stronger the backlash will be. I would prefer to keep my tongue attached and my brain not boiled, personally.”

“That is fair,” Y/n muttered.

Isa slumped slightly.

Hyejin watched her.

Sieun sighed.

“All right,” she said. “I am not completely heartless. Think of it this way, Chaeyoung. If the curse was built to punish you for using your entire self as a weapon, what would its escape require?”

Isa frowned faintly.

The witch continued, “If you were bound because you gave everything away for others, what would you have to do differently to be freed?”

Isa stared at the table.

Sieun’s gaze flicked between her and Y/n.

“The answer is not about power,” she said. “It is about how you hold yourself. How you let yourself be held.”

Isa’s throat moved.

Sieun leaned back. “That is all I can give without chewing glass.”

They left with more questions than answers.

But also, weirdly, with a confirmation Y/n had already started to suspect.

It was not just about breaking sigils.

It was about Isa letting herself be loved in a way that was not transactional, not sacrificial, not one-sided.

And about her loving back without turning it into a weapon against herself.

He walked beside her in a thoughtful silence.

She looked more rattled than she wanted to show.

“You okay?” he asked finally.

She huffed. “I am getting very tired of people telling me that my emotional life is the center of a complex curse.”

“Emotions are powerful.”

“Ugh.”

He laughed quietly.

They stopped at a small park on the way back. Just a strip of green with a few benches and a swing set, squeezed between two apartment blocks. Children were not there at this hour. A few old men sat on the benches, talking about the weather.

Isa drifted toward the swings almost unconsciously.

Y/n followed.

She sat down on one, hands curling around the chains. He took the one beside her.

For a minute, neither of them spoke.

Then Isa pushed off the ground a little, making the swing creak softly.

“It sounds like the curse wants me to... change,” she said, frowning. “In here.” She tapped her chest lightly. “Not just out there.”

Y/n nudged his own swing. “Do you think that is bad?”

“It is hard.”

“That does not mean bad.”

She made a face. “You are very positive.”

“I am not. I am just trying not to be completely crushed under the weight of all this.”

She huffed a half-laugh.

He watched her out of the corner of his eye.

Human. Solid. No flicker of gold on her skin. Over an hour of stable form.

He felt hope bloom again.

“You realize,” he said slowly, “you have not changed back once since this morning.”

Isa blinked.

Then looked at herself, like she had not noticed.

“Oh,” she said.

“That is a big oh.”

Her mouth twitched. “Do not jinx it.”

“I am not jinxing. I am observing.”

She pushed the swing a little higher.

The movement made her hair sway.

“Maybe Sieun was right,” she admitted. “Maybe something is loosening.”

He smiled, unable to hide it. “That is good.”

“Do you have to sound so surprised?”

“I am not surprised. Just happy.”

She went quiet.

Then she said, almost accusing, “You really want me to be okay?”

“Yes,” he said simply.

“Why?”

He looked at her.

Because I love you.

The thought was right there, bright and clear and terrifying.

He swallowed it down.

“Because I like you better like this than as a ball of trauma and fur,” he said lightly instead.

She snorted. “Wow.”

He grinned. “And because I am invested. I have spent too much time cleaning your litter box to give up now.”

“That is the worst declaration of loyalty I have ever heard.”

“It is honest.”

She shook her head.

But she was smiling.

Warmth flickered through him.

She kept swinging for a while after that. Not high. Just enough to feel the air move. Enough to feel, maybe, like a person on a day off instead of a weapon on standby.

Y/n watched the way the sun caught in her hair, the way shadows of leaves moved across her sweater, the way her mouth softened when she let her guard down.

He wanted to reach over and slip his hand over hers on the chain.

He did not.

Baby steps, he reminded himself.

It was late afternoon by the time they were heading back to his apartment.

Isa had been human for almost the entire day.

They walked in comfortable near-silence, shoulders occasionally bumping, sometimes syncing their steps without meaning to.

Y/n stopped at a crosswalk and glanced at her.

“You hungry?” he asked.

“Always.”

“Pizza? Fried chicken?”

Her eyes brightened. “Chicken.”

He chuckled. “Of course.”

He pulled his phone out to order from their usual place, thumb moving automatically through the app.

Isa watched him.

Something bright and almost childlike passed over her face. A sudden, pure happiness that had nothing to do with survival and everything to do with simply being here, being human, being with someone.

He caught the look as he glanced back up.

“What?” he asked, smiling.

She shook her head, still grinning. “Nothing.”

“You look pleased with yourself.”

“I am.”

“Why?”

“Because I am not on a rooftop bleeding right now,” she said. “Because I am not alone in an alley. Because I am human and walking and ordering fried chicken with a weird designer who adopted me.”

He sputtered. “I did not adopt you. You adopted me.”

She laughed.

He shook his head, pretending to be offended. “Ungrateful.”

“Very.”

They crossed the street.

Halfway up the block, with his phone still in his hand, Y/n said, “So, spicy or soy garlic this time?”

Isa stopped.

He took two steps before realizing she was no longer beside him.

He turned.

She was standing there on the sidewalk, eyes wide, looking at him like the weight of everything had just hit her all at once.

“Isa?” he asked.

Before he could say anything else, she closed the distance in three quick steps and launched herself at him.

“Whoa—”

He barely got his arms up in time.

She jumped, completely off the ground, and wrapped both arms around his neck, her momentum sending them staggering back a half-step onto the pavement. Her feet left the ground for a heartbeat and then found it again, but she did not let go.

She hugged him like she meant it.

Not the stiff, polite kind. A full-bodied, almost tackle-level embrace, chest to chest, face buried against his shoulder.

Y/n froze.

Then, slowly, his arms came up around her, one hand settling between her shoulder blades, the other around her waist.

People passed on either side of them, stepping around the impromptu hug with the studied indifference of city dwellers. Cars rolled by. Somewhere a scooter horn blared.

None of it reached Y/n properly.

All he could feel was Isa.

Her warmth.

Her weight.

Her heartbeat, fast and sure against his.

“You are really happy about fried chicken, huh?” he managed, voice unsteady.

She laughed against his shoulder, breath hot through his shirt.

“It is not the chicken, idiot,” she muttered.

He swallowed. “What is it?”

She pulled back just enough to look at him.

Her face was close.

Too close.

He could see the tiny mole near her lip. The faint line of a scar along her brow he had never noticed. The way her eyes shone with more than just reflected light.

“It is you,” she said.

He forgot to breathe.

For a second, he thought she might say more.

Then she did something his brain did not see coming even after all that.

She leaned in and kissed his cheek.

Soft.

Quick.

Right at the edge of his jaw, closer to his mouth than was safe for his heart.

Heat exploded under his skin.

Every thought he had flew out of his head like startled birds.

Isa jerked back immediately, as if she had surprised herself just as much.

They stared at each other.

Awkward, heavy silence crashed down like a curtain.

Her face went red.

Y/n was pretty sure his did too.

For a second they were just two people on a sidewalk standing way too close, looking anywhere but at each other, both trying very hard to act like that had not just happened.

Isa coughed. “Sorry.”

He cleared his throat. “It is okay.”

More silence.

A dog barked somewhere.

A car drove past with the windows down, music blaring.

Y/n could feel his cheek tingling where she had kissed him.

Isa shifted her weight from one foot to the other, eyes fixed on some fascinating point in the middle distance. “I got excited.”

He laughed weakly. “Yeah. I noticed.”

She winced. “I should not have... I mean, I did not think. It just... happened.”

“It is fine,” he said quickly. “You do not have to apologize. It is just... sudden.”

“Very sudden.”

“Extremely sudden.”

They both nodded too fast, still not looking at each other.

The moment stretched long enough to be unbearable.

Finally, Y/n forced himself to suck in a breath and break it.

“So,” he said, pitching his voice as casual as he could manage, “soy garlic and half spicy, right?”

Isa blinked.

Then huffed out a breath that was almost a laugh. “Yeah. Half and half.”

“Good. Settled.” He lifted his phone like a shield. “I am ordering the large. You cannot stop me.”

Her mouth curved, but her cheeks were still pink. “We will see if you regret that.”

“Never regretted chicken in my life.”

He focused very hard on the menu as he walked again, thumb moving over the screen in a show of extreme concentration.

Beside him, Isa fell into step, tucking her hands into her sweater sleeves, stare locked firmly ahead.

They did not talk about the hug.

Or the kiss.

But both of them felt it.

Isa’s chest was tight and strangely light at the same time. Her pulse had not settled yet. She could still feel the warmth of his neck against her lips.

Y/n’s fingers shook slightly when he typed in his address. He had to double check for typos because his brain kept replaying the look on her face when she said it is you.

They walked the rest of the way back in an awkward, charged quiet that neither of them knew how to pierce without ripping something open.

As they turned onto his street, the sky had begun to change. The easy afternoon light bled slowly into early evening blue. Shadows lengthened. The air cooled.

Isa was frowning slightly now, but not in embarrassment.

A pressure had started at the base of her skull. A buzzing, like static.

Her steps faltered.

“Y/n,” she said softly.

He stopped immediately. “Yeah?”

She opened her mouth.

A sharp, cold prickling slid down her spine.

The familiar warning.

The world swayed for a heartbeat.

Y/n saw the flicker before she felt it.

Gold along her arms.

At her throat.

Across her cheeks.

His eyes widened. “Isa?”

She sucked in a breath as the magic grabbed hold, sudden and rough.

Not the gentle, warm looseness from the night before.

Hard.

Yanking.

Her knees buckled.

Y/n dropped the phone and lunged, catching her under the arms before she hit the pavement.

“Hey. Hey. I got you. Breathe.”

She clutched at his sleeves, fingers digging in. Light spilled from under her skin, brighter than he had seen in days, flaring dangerously.

Too much.

Too fast.

“Something’s wrong,” she gasped. “It is— it is not—”

The rest of her sentence dissolved into a strangled sound as the transition slammed into her, hard enough to make both of them stagger.

Y/n held on tighter.

He could feel it now.

Not with magic. Just in the way the hair on his arms rose, the way the air thickened around them, the way every instinct in him screamed that this was not just another unstable shift.

This was something else.

Something bigger.

—

Y/n fumbled with the mugs.

“What kind do you want?”

Isa blinked. “There are kinds?”

He turned his head slightly. “That is such an insane question coming from someone who was a cat ten minutes ago.”

She rolled her eyes. “Just give me whatever people drink when they’re cursed and humiliated.”

He nodded solemnly. “Trauma tea. Got it.”

That got a tiny snort out of her.

He clung to the sound like a life raft.

He made the tea with shaking hands, trying not to think too hard about the fact that he could feel her watching him from the couch. Not in a creepy way. Just... attentively. Like she was memorizing his movements.

When he came back, he had two mugs balanced carefully in his hands. He had also, thank God, managed to pull on sweatpants while the water boiled. The towel crisis had been solved. Barely.

He set one mug on the coffee table in front of her and kept the other for himself.

“Careful,” he said. “It’s hot.”

Isa leaned forward, fingers curling around the mug. She paused the second the heat touched her hands.

Her expression changed.

Not dramatically. Just enough that Y/n noticed.

“What?” he asked.

She stared down at the tea. “It’s warm.”

He blinked. “I mean... yeah. That’s kind of tea’s whole thing.”

“I know that,” she muttered.

But her voice had gone quiet.

Y/n sat in the armchair across from her and wrapped both hands around his own mug. “You haven’t had it in a while?”

Isa gave a tiny shrug. “Not like this.”

He looked at her more carefully.

Her fingers were slim, but there were calluses on them. Strange ones. Not the kind from office work. Her posture was tense even when she was trying to relax, shoulders pulled like she expected a hit from some invisible direction. And there was something in her face, under all the sarcasm and sharpness, that looked tired in a way sleep alone could not fix.

He swallowed.

“Okay,” he said carefully. “So... you said you’d explain.”

Isa took a slow sip of the tea. Her eyebrows lifted slightly, like she had not expected it to be good.

Then she looked at him over the rim of the mug.

“You’re taking this weirdly well.”

“I am absolutely not taking this well,” Y/n said immediately. “I’m just prioritizing. Panic first, tea second, existential collapse later.”

That earned him a real laugh this time. Short, but warm.

Then it faded.

She lowered the mug into her lap and stared at the steam.

“My name is Lee Chaeyoung,” she said. “Isa is what most people call me. Easier, I guess. Cleaner.”

Y/n nodded slowly. “Okay.”

“I’m... not exactly normal.”

“I had gathered that.”

She gave him a flat look. “Do you want the story or not?”

“Sorry. Yes. Story. Please.”

Isa took a breath.

“There’s a world under your world,” she said. “Not literally under it. Just... hidden. Folded in the corners. Magic, curses, contracts, things that live too long and eat things they shouldn’t. Most humans never notice it. They’ll blame stress, coincidence, bad luck, the shape of a shadow in the wrong place.”

Y/n was very still.

“Some people do notice,” she continued. “And some of those people get dragged into it. The unlucky ones make deals. The really unlucky ones become useful.”

“You were useful?” he asked quietly.

Her mouth twisted. “That’s one word for it.”

She shifted on the couch, pulling his borrowed shirt down over her knees.

“I worked for something called the Council. They call us Guardians. We deal with magical threats before normal people get hurt. Demons, curse-brokers, rogue sorcerers, contract rings, stuff like that.”

Y/n stared. “That sounds... huge.”

“It is.”

“And the Council just exists?”

“Yep.”

“And nobody knows?”

“Some people know,” she said. “Most don’t. Humans are very good at ignoring things that scare them.”

He processed that.

Then, carefully, “And Eun-joon?”

At the name, Isa’s face hardened.

“He’s a broker,” she said. “A seller. A parasite in expensive gloves. He makes deals with desperate people and then repackages their souls for things worse than him. He likes vulnerable humans. Sick people. Lonely people. People in debt. People who think one terrible choice will fix their whole life.”

Y/n’s stomach turned.

“That’s...” He stopped. “That’s real?”

She met his eyes. “You think your world is all random cruelty? Some of it is. Some of it is people like him helping it along.”

His hands tightened around his mug.

“And you fought him?”

“For years.”

“Alone?”

“Usually.”

He frowned. “Usually?”

“The Council sends backup when paperwork says they should,” she said dryly. “Reality is less organized.”

That answer did not sit well with him.

“You said he cursed you instead of killing you?”

Isa nodded once. “I’d been ruining too many of his operations. Taking people back. Breaking contracts. Costing him money. Reputation too, probably.”

“So he wanted revenge?”

“Yes.” Her jaw flexed. “And he wanted to make a point.”

Y/n hesitated. “By turning you into...”

“A cat?” She looked down at herself bitterly. “Yeah.”

He winced.

“It sounds stupid when you say it out loud,” she muttered.

“No,” he said quickly. “No, that’s not what I meant.”

She looked at him.

He leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “I mean... okay, yes, the sentence ‘a demon soul guy turned a magic guardian into a cat’ is objectively insane. But what happened to you isn’t stupid.”

For a second, Isa just stared at him.

Then she looked away.

“The curse is old,” she said after a beat. “Cruel in a specific way. I stay alive, technically. Which means politically, he can claim he didn’t murder a Guardian. The Council can complain, but they can’t call it execution.”

“And you’re trapped?”

She nodded. “I get nine lives, more or less. If I die, I come back as the same thing again. Small. powerless. Stuck.”

Y/n felt cold all over.

“You died before?” he asked before he could stop himself.

Isa went very quiet.

His heart dropped. “Have you?”

She did not answer right away.

When she finally spoke, her voice was light in a way that made it worse.

“A few times.”

He stared at her.

“A car once,” she said, eyes fixed on the tea. “One winter. Hunger another time. A dog. A spell backlash. I don’t know, the details blur after a while.”

The room felt too small.

Y/n set his mug down before he dropped it.

“Isa...”

“It’s fine.”

“That is not fine.”

“I’m still here.”

He shook his head. “That doesn’t make it fine.”

Something in her expression tightened.

“You want to know the funny part?” she asked, with a laugh that was not a laugh at all. “You stop being afraid of pain after enough of it. But helplessness? That part never gets easier.”

Y/n did not know what to say to that.

So he said nothing.

He just listened.

Isa’s fingers tightened around the mug until her knuckles went pale.

“I remember the rooftop,” she said quietly. “I remember him touching my forehead with that sigil. I remember losing my hands. My voice. My magic. I remember trying to scream at him and hearing this pathetic little sound come out instead.” She swallowed. “I remember falling.”

The last word came out smaller.

Y/n’s chest ached.

“I woke up in trash,” she said. “My leg was messed up. Everything smelled rotten. Every sound was too loud. I kept trying to reach for my magic and there was just... static. Like my own body had become a locked room.”

He inhaled slowly.

“And then you found me.”

Isa said it simply, but the words landed heavily between them.

Y/n looked down. “I almost kept walking.”

Her eyes snapped to him. “What?”

He shrugged helplessly. “I was tired. It was late. I thought it might be a rat or something. I almost went home.”

“But you didn’t.”

“No.” He looked back at her. “I heard you again.”

The room went very still.

Isa’s fingers loosened around the mug.

“I thought you were just a stray,” he said. “But even then... I don’t know. You sounded hurt.”

“I was.”

“I know.”

She let out a breath through her nose.

Then she looked away and said, softer, “Still. You came back.”

There was something strange in her voice. Not disbelief exactly. Something deeper. Like the fact still had edges she could cut herself on if she touched it too hard.

Y/n rubbed the back of his neck.

“Well. You were really small.”

Isa stared at him.

He winced. “That sounded bad.”

“It did.”

“I just meant... you looked like you needed help.”

Her face softened by a fraction.

Then she leaned back, eyes drifting to the ceiling.

“There was... something else,” she murmured.

“What?”

“The curse.”

Y/n straightened. “There’s more?”

“Yes.” Isa frowned. “A condition. A release clause. Curses like this usually have one.”

His pulse quickened. “You know how to break it?”

She opened her mouth.

Paused.

Then frowned harder.

“That’s...” She squinted, like she was looking inward. “That’s the problem.”

“What do you mean?”

“I know there is one,” she said slowly. “I remember him telling me. On the rooftop. He explained it because he enjoyed hearing himself talk.”

“Okay,” Y/n said. “So what was it?”

Isa pressed her fingers to her temple.

“I can’t...” Her brows pulled together. “I can’t hold it.”

Y/n watched her carefully. “Are you okay?”

She ignored the question. “There was something about... someone. Or some feeling. No.” She grimaced. “That sounds wrong.”

She shut her eyes and pressed harder at her forehead.

“I know he said it. I remember the shape of the moment. Rain, his stupid face, that awful purple sigil over his hand...” Her breathing changed. “And then there was a sentence. Important. Annoying. I should know it.”

Y/n felt a flicker of hope and worry at the same time.

“So your memory is blocked?”

“Maybe.” She looked frustrated now, angry at herself. “Or damaged. The curse did something to my head. Some parts are fine. Some parts... slide away when I reach for them.”

“Can you force it?”

She gave him a look that very clearly asked if he was stupid.

“I’m trying.”

“Right. Sorry.”

Isa exhaled sharply and dropped her hand.

“It’s like my brain gets sick when I go near it,” she muttered. “The words break apart. I can’t say them. I can barely think them.”

Y/n frowned. “You mean literally cannot say them?”

“Yes.”

“Like a magical block?”

“Probably.”

He sat back, thinking.

“So there is a solution. You just don’t remember what it is.”

“That about sums up my life right now, yes.”

He rubbed his palms against his knees.

“Okay,” he said.

Isa looked at him. “Okay?”

“Okay means we work with that.”

Her expression went blank for a second. “What?”

“We know the curse has a loophole. We know Eun-joon mentioned it. We know your memory around it is messed up. Fine.” He pointed between them. “That means step one is not panicking.”

“I feel like panic is reasonable.”

“It is,” he admitted. “But I’m trying to be supportive here.”

That made one corner of her mouth twitch.

Y/n took that as a victory and continued.

“We can gather information.”

“From where?”

“I don’t know yet,” he said. “Books? Magic people? Council records? Weird cursed internet forums? There has to be something.”

Isa stared at him.

“What?”

“You said weird cursed internet forums.”

“Don’t act like your world doesn’t have forums. Every niche thing has forums.”

She huffed a laugh. “That is depressingly true.”

He leaned forward again.

“Look, I don’t know anything about your world. Not really. But I know how to research, and I know how to be stubborn, and apparently I’m already involved now, so...”

“So?”

He met her eyes.

“So I’m helping you.”

The words came out simple. Certain.

Isa’s lips parted slightly.

“You don’t have to do that,” she said.

“I know.”

“You really, really don’t.”

“I know that too.”

“It could get dangerous.”

Y/n snorted weakly. “I figured that out around the time my cat became a woman and started talking about soul trafficking.”

Despite herself, Isa smiled.

It faded almost immediately.

“You don’t understand,” she said quietly. “People around me get hurt.”

He held her gaze. “Maybe. But you still don’t get to decide for me.”

That hit her harder than he expected.

He saw it happen. The tiny hitch in her breathing. The way her shoulders went still.

For a few seconds she did not speak.

Then she looked down at her hands.

“I’m not used to that,” she admitted.

“To what?”

“To anyone staying after they know what the risk is.”

Y/n swallowed.

Something in the room shifted. Not magical. Just human. Delicate.

He softened his voice.

“Well,” he said, “get used to me being annoying, then.”

Isa let out a breath that almost sounded like a laugh.

Then, very suddenly, she went quiet.

Too quiet.

Y/n frowned. “Isa?”

She shook her head once, like she could physically shrug something off.

“Hey,” he said, gentler now. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

It was an automatic answer. Flat. Useless.

He knew that tone. He used it himself when coworkers asked if he was okay after twelve straight hours at his desk.

Y/n set his mug aside and stood.

Isa looked up, startled, as he disappeared briefly into the bathroom.

He came back with a small box of tissues.

She looked at it, then at him. “Why do you have those ready?”

“I have allergies and emotional fragility,” he said. “Move over.”

She blinked.

He sat beside her on the couch, careful, leaving enough space not to crowd her.

For a second neither of them moved.

Then Isa sniffed once.

Tiny. Sharp.

And that was all it took.

Her face crumpled before she seemed to realize what was happening.

Her hand flew to her mouth.

“What?” she said, sounding almost offended. “No, I’m not...”

But her voice broke.

A tear slipped down her cheek.

She froze.

Y/n’s heart clenched.

Isa stared at the tear like it belonged to someone else.

Then another fell. Then another.

“No,” she whispered, more confused than upset. “No, no, why am I...?”

Like she had opened something by accident and had no idea how to close it.

Y/n’s expression softened immediately.

“Hey,” he said quietly. “It’s okay.”

She laughed once, wet and disbelieving. “I’m not doing this on purpose.”

“I know.”

“I don’t cry.”

“Everybody cries.”

“I don’t.”

“You are literally crying right now.”

She shot him a watery glare.

He offered her a tissue.

Isa looked at it, then away, as if accepting it would make the whole thing more real.

So Y/n made the decision for her.

“Sorry,” he murmured, and gently lifted the tissue to her cheek.

She went still.

His touch was careful. Barely there. He dabbed away the tear, then another, then held the box in her lap in case she wanted it.

For a moment she looked like she might snap at him.

Instead, her breath shuddered.

“I hate this,” she whispered.

“The crying?”

“All of it.”

Her voice cracked on the last word.

Y/n’s chest hurt.

“I know,” he said.

Isa shook her head and wiped at her face angrily with the heel of her hand. “No, you don’t. I was strong. I knew what I was doing. I had a job. A purpose. I could protect people. And now I can’t even remember the one thing that might fix this.”

Her tears were falling more steadily now, quiet and furious.

“I was supposed to stop him,” she said. “That was my whole thing. I stop people like him. I don’t get beaten and shoved into a tiny disposable body and thrown into an alley like trash.”

Y/n listened, throat tight.

“And the worst part is...” She sucked in a breath. “The worst part is that some of me got used to it.”

He frowned. “Used to what?”

“To being small. To waiting for footsteps. To measuring people by whether they’d kick me or feed me. To sleeping with one eye open. To being grateful for scraps.” Her voice wavered. “I hate that. I hate that I adapted.”

Y/n did not think before he spoke.

“That doesn’t make you weak.”

Isa laughed bitterly. “No?”

“No.” He held her gaze until she looked back at him. “It means you survived.”

She stared.

He went on, softer now.

“You survived things no one should have had to survive. You kept going anyway. You can hate what happened to you. You can hate what it made necessary. But surviving is not something to be ashamed of.”

Isa’s face crumpled again, more quietly this time.

He took another tissue and gently wiped beneath her eye.

She did not stop him.

“I’m so tired,” she whispered, so low he almost missed it.

Y/n’s expression softened into something unbearably tender.

“I know,” he said.

“I don’t know who I am if I can’t do the job.”

“You’re still you.”

“How do you know?”

Because I’ve seen you, he almost said.

Instead he said, “Because even as a cat, half-dead and furious, you still looked at the world like you were ready to fight it.”

That made her breathe out a broken laugh.

“That sounds awful.”

“It was kind of impressive.”

She lowered her head.

Y/n hesitated, then carefully put a hand on her shoulder.

Not heavy. Just there.

“You’re not alone in this anymore, okay?” he said. “You found me. Or I found you. Whatever. Point is, we deal with it together.”

Isa closed her eyes.

A few more tears slipped free. This time she noticed. This time she let them.

Y/n kept wiping them away with embarrassing patience.

The room was quiet except for the occasional hitch in her breathing and the soft hum of the refrigerator in the kitchen.

After a while, Isa spoke again.

“Why are you being this nice to me?”

The question was so blunt that it made him blink.

“What?”

She opened her eyes and looked at him, lashes still wet.

“Why?” she repeated. “Really?”

Y/n shifted awkwardly. “Because you need somebody?”

“That’s not an answer.”

“It is.”

“It’s not enough of one.”

He looked down at the tissue in his hand.

Then he shrugged, small and helpless.

“I know what it’s like,” he said quietly. “Not the magic part. Obviously. But the lonely part. The feeling like if you disappeared, your apartment would just be quieter and that would be it.”

Isa watched him very carefully.

He gave a crooked smile that did not hide much.

“When I found you, it was stupid, but... it felt like looking at something I understood. You looked pissed off and scared and like you were trying really hard not to need anyone.” He huffed. “That was familiar.”

Her gaze softened.

“And then you headbutted my hand,” he added.

A tiny, outraged sound escaped her. “I did not headbutt.”

“You absolutely did.”

“I was testing your scent.”

“Sure.”

She looked offended for about two seconds.

Then she laughed through the last of her tears.

Y/n smiled, relieved.

“There,” he said gently. “That’s better.”

She sniffed and stole a tissue from the box this time.

“I still hate you a little.”

“I assume that’s affection in your language?”

“Don’t get cocky.”

He held up both hands. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

Silence settled again, but this time it was warmer.

Not empty. Just full.

Isa folded the used tissue in her lap and stared at it for a long moment.

Then she said, very quietly, “You really mean it?”

“What?”

“That you’ll help me?”

Y/n did not hesitate.

“Yes.”

Her eyes searched his face like she was trying to catch the lie before it formed.

She did not find one.

He leaned back slightly, but kept his hand on her shoulder.

“We’ll figure it out,” he said. “Maybe slowly. Maybe badly. Maybe with terrible research methods and several emotional breakdowns. But we’ll figure it out.”

Isa let out a shaky breath.

“My brain still won’t let me remember the solution.”

“Then we work around your brain being rude.”

“That is such a stupid sentence.”

“And yet I stand by it.”

She shook her head, but she was smiling faintly now. Tiredly.

Y/n looked at her for a beat, then added, “You don’t have to force yourself tonight.”

Her brows knit. “What?”

“You’ve already told me enough to ruin my understanding of reality forever. I think that counts as a lot for one day.”

That got another tiny laugh.

He continued, “You should rest.”

Isa looked like she wanted to argue on principle.

Then her shoulders sagged.

“Yeah,” she admitted. “I might... need that.”

“Good.” He stood. “I’ll get you another blanket.”

“I already have one.”

“You’re shivering.”

“I am not.”

He gave her a look.

She glared back.

Then, right in the middle of the glare, her whole body flickered.

Y/n froze.

A shimmer of gold rippled over her skin, quick and unstable. Like light hitting broken glass.

Isa’s eyes widened. “Oh, shit.”

“What is happening?”

“I think I’m out of time.”

“Out of time for what?”

“For this,” she snapped, gesturing at her whole human body. “Move.”

Y/n barely had time to stumble backward before another pulse of golden light folded around her.

There was a sound like a breath being sucked inward.

The oversized shirt and sweatpants collapsed into themselves on the couch.

And in the middle of the pile sat Isa again.

Small. Black. Furious. One white patch on her chest and yellow eyes blazing with humiliation.

For one stunned second, Y/n just stared.

Isa stared back.

Then she let out a deeply offended, raspy little, “Mrrrp.”

Y/n clapped a hand over his mouth.

Her eyes narrowed.

He made a choked sound.

“Don’t,” he wheezed.

“Mrrrow.”

“I’m not laughing.”

“Rrrah.”

That made it worse.

He bent over, shoulders shaking, trying desperately not to lose it.

Isa’s tail puffed in outrage.

“Okay,” he gasped, holding up both hands. “Okay, I’m sorry. I’m sorry. It’s just... the dramatic transformation and then immediate tiny anger goblin...”

Isa launched herself at him.

It would have been terrifying if she were still human.

As it was, she hit his chest with all the force of an indignant throw pillow and clung to his shirt with tiny claws.

“OW. Hey. Tiny demon.”

She hissed directly into his face.

He carefully scooped her up before she could climb his head.

“All right, all right,” he murmured, still laughing under his breath. “No dignity left. I get it.”

Isa smacked his chin with one paw.

Y/n smiled despite everything and held her close, one hand rubbing gently along her back.

Her tiny body was still warm from the shift.

After a few seconds, the fury drained out of her enough that she stopped trying to maul him and just glared from his arms.

He looked down at her.

“Still with me?” he asked softly.

Her ears twitched.

Then, after a beat, she pressed her head once against his wrist.

A tiny answer.

Y/n’s smile faded into something softer.

“Okay,” he whispered. “We start tomorrow.”

Isa blinked slowly.

He looked toward the dark window, where the city lights flickered beyond the glass.

Somewhere out there was a man who sold souls and thought he had already won.

Y/n tightened his hold on the small black cat in his arms.

“Whatever this curse is,” he said quietly, more to himself than to her, “we’ll break it.”

Isa’s eyes half-closed.

In his arms, she was small enough to fit under one hand.

But somehow, as she listened to his heartbeat and the stubborn certainty in his voice, she felt something she had not let herself feel in a very long time.

Hope.

It scared her almost as much as the curse.

Still, when Y/n carried her to the couch and tucked the blanket around her tiny body, she did not resist.

And when he sat beside her until she drifted off, murmuring half-formed plans about libraries and records and impossible loopholes, Isa slept more deeply than she had in months.

Tomorrow would come.

So would the hunt for answers.

—

The next morning started with Y/n waking up to a sharp pressure on his throat.

He made a strangled sound and flailed upright, hair sticking up in all directions, blanket tangled around his waist.

A pair of golden eyes stared down at him from the center of his chest.

Isa, in full cat form, had planted herself directly on his sternum and was glaring like a landlord collecting rent.

Y/n blinked at her. “What?”

“Meow.”

He squinted at the clock.

“Six thirty?” he croaked. “Isa, that’s illegal.”

She slapped his chin with one paw.

“Did you just hit me?”

“Mrraow.”

“Oh, now you have opinions.”

She sat down harder. Intentionally.

Y/n wheezed. “You are tiny but vindictive.”

Isa’s tail flicked once.

He rubbed his face and let out a sleepy sigh. “Are you hungry?”

At that, her ears perked.

He pointed accusingly. “I knew it. This is extortion.”

She blinked slowly.

“Fine,” he muttered. “Fine. I’m up. Congratulations. You’ve weaponized cuteness.”

He pushed himself upright with a groan, scooping her automatically under one arm as he shuffled toward the kitchen. Isa did not protest. She only adjusted herself in the crook of his elbow like she belonged there.

That should not have done anything weird to his chest.

It did anyway.

Y/n ignored it with the skill of a man who had spent years surviving on denial and convenience store coffee.

He set her on the counter while he prepared breakfast. Chicken for her. Toast and eggs for himself. Isa watched every move with the intense concentration of someone evaluating his worth as a provider.

“You know,” he said while flipping an egg, “if this whole curse thing gets fixed, I expect at least some gratitude.”

Isa licked one paw and ran it over her ear.

“That’s rude.”

She looked at him with complete indifference.

He huffed. “No respect in this house.”

By the time he plated the food, she was already leaning toward her bowl. He set it down and she immediately went to work with the same focused savagery she brought to everything.

Y/n watched her while sipping coffee.

It was strange, still. Knowing there was a whole person inside that small body. Strange, and somehow not strange at all. He had already started talking to her like she understood him before he knew the truth. It felt less like a huge adjustment and more like the world had suddenly explained a detail he had somehow already accepted.

Isa lifted her head after a few bites and looked at him.

“What?”

She stared.

He squinted back. “Do I have egg on my face?”

She made a tiny chirping sound and returned to eating.

Y/n smiled into his mug. “Okay. Great talk.”

—

After breakfast, he dragged his laptop onto the coffee table and sat cross-legged on the floor. Isa hopped down from the couch and settled beside him, her tail curling over her paws.

“Research day,” he announced.

She gave him a flat cat look.

“Don’t look so thrilled.”

He opened several tabs.

Searches quickly devolved into absolute nonsense.

Ancient curse reversal methods.

Soul transmutation loopholes.

How to break magical transformation curse.

Can true names undo curses.

Council guardian records.

Korean folklore cat curse love story.

Ancient sigils purple soul binding release.

Isa watched the screen with increasing disdain.

“Most of these are stupid,” she said.

Y/n nearly dropped the laptop.

He turned.

On the couch, sprawled among a nest of blanket and his hoodie, was human Isa.

She looked mildly surprised herself, as if she had simply forgotten to stay a cat.

Y/n blinked once.

Then twice.

“Hi,” she said.

His voice cracked. “How long have you been human?”

She looked down at her hands. “Approximately three seconds?”

“Right. Cool. Totally normal.”

Isa flexed her fingers, then looked at her own bare legs and immediately yanked the blanket over them. “Why am I half naked?”

“You were a cat a second ago,” he said helplessly. “I did not think to preserve your modesty after every blink.”

“That sounds like a you problem.”

“You are impossible.”

“And yet you’re helping me.”

He rubbed his face. “Can you do that on command now?”

“No.”

“You just transformed.”

“I know.”

“So... why?”

Isa frowned, her expression turning inward. “I told you. It’s unstable. Sometimes I shift back if I have enough energy. Sometimes I don’t. Sometimes it lasts five minutes. Sometimes half an hour. Sometimes I blink and it’s over.”

Y/n stared. “That sounds exhausting.”

“It is.”

She leaned over to peer at his screen, shoulder brushing his as she did.

It was an innocent movement. Friendly. Casual.

Y/n nearly forgot how to read.

Her hair smelled faintly like his shampoo.

He swallowed hard and forced his eyes back to the laptop.

“Okay,” he said, trying for normal. “Then I guess we use human-time whenever it happens.”

Isa snorted. “Human-time?”

“You know. While you are a human.”

“That is the dumbest phrase you’ve said so far.”

“You said my brain was rude. We all cope differently.”

For a moment she smiled.

Then she squinted at one of the open tabs. “Oh, absolutely not.”

“What?”

“That forum is fake.”

He looked. “How can you tell?”

“It says every curse can be broken with moonwater, goat milk, and apology letters.”

Y/n frowned. “Maybe?”

Isa gave him a deadpan look. “No.”

“Okay, fair.”

She pointed to another result. “That one’s nonsense too.”

“This one is from a university archive.”

“It cites a blog called YOONeverLand04.”

He slowly closed the tab.

Isa leaned back against the couch with a sigh. “If the answer was easy to find online, every idiot with a cursed ex would’ve solved their problems already.”

Y/n snorted. “You say that like it happens often.”

She held his gaze. “You have no idea.”

That shut him up for a second.

He opened a fresh document.

“All right. New plan. We make a list of what we know for sure.”

Isa nodded once.

Y/n typed.

“Number one. Curse cast by Eun-joon on rooftop.”

“Yes.”

“Number two. Cat body. Approximately nine lives.”

“Right.”

“Number three. Magic sealed but not gone.”

“Yes.”

“Number four. Human form possible in unstable bursts.”

“Apparently.”

“Number five. There is a loophole to break the curse.”

Isa’s expression dimmed slightly, but she nodded.

“Number six,” Y/n continued, “you cannot remember the loophole because your brain gets, and I quote, sick.”

She looked offended. “Do not quote me.”

“I’m documenting.”

“You’re annoying.”

“You’ll thank me when I save your life with organized notes.”

“That is unfortunately possible.”

He smiled a little and typed one more line.

“Number seven. We need more information.”

Isa fell quiet after that.

He glanced up. “What?”

Her eyes were on the screen. On the little list. On the fact that he had made her impossible situation into something methodical and manageable, if only for the moment.

“No one’s ever helped me like this before,” she said.

Y/n’s hands paused over the keyboard.

He looked at her. Really looked.

There was no sarcasm in her face now. Just honesty. Raw and unguarded enough to make his chest tighten.

He tried to answer lightly, because too much sincerity all at once felt dangerous.

“Well,” he said, “that seems like a failure on everyone else’s part.”

Isa’s laugh was soft.

He saved the document as ISA CURSE PLAN and immediately regretted the name.

She saw it and barked a surprised laugh. “That’s what you called it?”

“I panicked.”

“It looks like a terrible school project.”

“It is a terrible school project. The topic is ‘how not to leave my roommate trapped in a cat forever.’”

She looked at him for a beat longer than usual.

Then she said, very quietly, “Thank you.”

His stomach flipped.

He nodded too fast and looked back at the screen. “Yeah. Sure. Obviously.”

—

The morning blurred into a strange, gentle rhythm.

When Isa was human, they searched together. He taught her how to navigate his browser history without accidentally opening old college memes or embarrassing shopping tabs. She mocked his bookmarks. He showed her a digital archive system. She admitted she had never had much reason to use normal technology beyond burner phones and Council databases.

When she shifted back into a cat mid-sentence, it happened with barely any warning. One second she was leaning over his shoulder muttering, “That sigil shape looks familiar but I hate the annotations,” and the next there was a flash of gold and a very annoyed black cat sitting on the keyboard.

The laptop emitted a shrill error sound.

Y/n stared.

Isa looked down at the screen, where a line of random symbols had appeared in the document.

ffffffffffffff;;;;;;;999999

He burst out laughing.

Isa hissed.

“You typed a curse,” he said. “A very powerful one.”

She smacked the screen with a paw.

“Okay, okay, sorry.” He carefully scooped her off the keyboard and set her in his lap. “No more document editing for tiny paws.”

She settled there after exactly two seconds of pretending not to want to.

Y/n froze for the briefest instant.

Then, carefully, he rested one hand along her back and used the other to keep typing.

The vibration started under his palm first.

A low purr. Quiet, but unmistakable.

He looked down.

Isa had closed her eyes.

“You’re purring.”

Her tail flicked once against his wrist.

“I am not.”

“You are literally vibrating.”

“It’s involuntary.”

“Still counts.”

She did not open her eyes. “Shut up and research.”

Y/n smiled to himself.

—

By lunchtime, they had found very little that was useful and a surprising amount that was bizarre.

A nineteenth-century account of a cursed magistrate who lived as a ferret for seven years.

Three contradictory sources on soul-binding contracts.

One suspicious old text that implied curses tied to identity could only be broken by “equal exchange of unmasked selfhood,” which neither of them understood.

And one mention of ancient emotional seals in a damaged manuscript that Isa insisted might matter.

That line stayed with them.

Emotional seals.

Y/n wrote it down, circled it, and added three question marks.

When hunger finally forced them to stop, he ordered takeout.

Isa happened to be human when it arrived, which meant she got to discover fried dumplings again.

Her reaction was deeply satisfying.

She bit into one, paused, and stared at it like it had personally restored her faith in existence.

Y/n smirked. “Good?”

She chewed slowly, eyes widening in genuine disbelief. “How do humans make these and still commit crimes?”

He laughed so hard he almost choked.

They ate on the couch, sharing the container between them. At some point Isa stole one from his chopsticks with her fingers. At some point he stopped thinking about how close they were sitting and just let the warmth of her shoulder against his arm become normal.

Outside, the day drifted by in pale winter light.

Inside, his tiny apartment felt full in a way it never had before.

At one point Y/n got up to refill their water glasses. When he came back, he found Isa standing near the bookshelf, staring at a framed photo tucked between design books and unpaid bills.

He paused.

It was an old family photo. Him, maybe sixteen, trying not to look miserable in a collared shirt. His parents behind him. His younger sister making a face.

Isa glanced at him. “You were adorable.”

He nearly dropped the glasses. “Excuse me?”

She pointed at teenage him. “Look at that hair. Tragic.”

“That was not the point you just made.”

Her mouth curved. “I know.”

He set the glasses down and came to stand beside her.

“She’s your sister?” Isa asked, nodding at the photo.

“Yeah.”

“You don’t talk about her much.”

Y/n shrugged. “She lives in Busan now. Married. Two kids.”

“You don’t visit?”

“Not often.”

“Why?”

He took a second before answering. “Life, I guess.”

Isa looked at him sidelong. “That means it hurts.”

He let out a small laugh. “Are you always this direct?”

“Yes.”

“Terrifying.”

“And?”

He stared at the picture for a moment. “We’re not... bad. Just not close anymore. Everyone kind of drifted. Work happened. Distance happened. You miss enough calls and eventually people stop expecting them.”

Isa was quiet.

Then she said, “They should still call.”

Y/n smiled without humor. “Maybe.”

He reached for the frame and adjusted it slightly.

When he drew his hand back, Isa’s fingers brushed his.

The contact was brief. Accidental. Warm.

Both of them noticed.

Y/n felt it all the way in his chest.

Isa looked at his hand for a second too long before stepping back and picking up her water.

“So,” she said, with deliberate casualness, “your high school haircut really was awful.”

He barked a laugh, grateful and disappointed all at once.

—

The afternoon turned softer after that.

He worked on his laptop while Isa, in cat form again, occupied the warm spot beside him on the couch. Every so often he’d absentmindedly scratch under her chin while reading through another archive, and every time she would pretend not to enjoy it for exactly three seconds before leaning in.

Later she shifted back into human form without warning while half asleep.

Y/n had dozed off against the arm of the couch, and the weight against his side changed all at once. He startled awake to find Isa there in human form, curled into the corner with his blanket over her legs, head tipped against his shoulder.

For several full seconds, neither of them moved.

The apartment was quiet. Gold afternoon light stretched across the floor. Somewhere outside, a neighbor’s radio murmured softly through the walls.

Isa blinked awake slowly and realized where she was.

Her entire body went still.

Y/n’s pulse kicked hard.

“Uh,” he said.

“Uh,” she echoed.

Neither of them moved away.

Her hair was warm against his neck. His shoulder was under her cheek. One of his hands, traitorous and unconscious, had been resting lightly over the blanket near her knee.

Isa looked up at him.

Close. Too close.

Her eyes in human form were almost unfair. Sharp and bright and impossible to look at for too long.

Y/n’s voice came out quieter than he meant it to. “You okay?”

She held his gaze. “I think so.”

But she did not sound sure.

Something delicate hung there. Not dramatic. Not overwhelming. Just a possibility. A breath.

Then Isa cleared her throat and sat up.

“I shifted again.”

“Yeah.”

“This is ridiculous.”

“Also yeah.”

She adjusted the blanket around herself as if that was what had made the moment strange.

Y/n looked away first, because he was a coward.

“We should probably write down the timing,” he said.

Isa latched onto the practicality instantly. “Right.”

He grabbed his phone and opened a note. “Okay. Human shift at... three fourteen p.m. Approximately?”

She nodded. “Started from sleep this time.”

“Any warning?”

“Not really.” She paused. “Maybe warmth?”

He glanced at her. “Warmth?”

“I don’t know. I just...” She frowned. “Sometimes it happens when I’m relaxed.”

Y/n tried not to read into that and failed immediately.

“Oh.”

Isa looked at him, clearly aware of the implication too, and looked away just as fast.

“Well,” she said, very carefully neutral, “that’s medically useless information.”

“Right. Totally useless.”

They both sat in that lie for a while.

—

By evening, Y/n had a rough plan.

Not a good one. Not a complete one. But a plan.

First, gather more written records. Second, get Isa to sketch whatever she remembered of Eun-joon’s transmutation sigil. Third, figure out if the Council had archives she could access. Fourth, avoid getting murdered by magical enemies.

He wrote all of it down.

Isa, now back in cat form and loafed on the table beside his notebook, watched with narrowed eyes.

“You make everything sound stupid when you write it.”

“That’s because everything is stupid.”

She made a tiny disgruntled sound.

Y/n tapped his pen against the page. “We’ll need supplies too.”

Her ears twitched.

“Like what?”

“Notebook you can’t accidentally sit on in cat form. Maybe art supplies if you’re sketching sigils. Better food. A carrier if we have to take you somewhere.”

Isa’s stare sharpened. “A carrier?”

He pointed the pen at her. “Do not make me transport you in a tote bag.”

She looked scandalized.

“You would not dare.”

“I absolutely would if necessary.”

She hissed in outrage.

He grinned. “Then behave.”

She pounced at the pen. He pulled it away just in time.

For a while after that, it stopped feeling like research and started feeling like a home.

Y/n cooked ramen while Isa supervised from the counter. She shifted halfway through and had to be shoved a pair of socks and another shirt before she could continue insulting his chopping technique in person.

“I’m not bad at this,” he said.

“You diced the scallions unevenly.”

“They all end up in the same pot.”

“That is not the point.”

“You are incredibly spoiled for someone who was eating dumpster air a week ago.”

Isa gasped. “Rude.”

He laughed and handed her the spoon. “Taste it, then.”

She did.

And because the universe apparently enjoyed tormenting him, she closed her eyes for a second in concentration, lips parting slightly as she considered the flavor.

Y/n had to turn very quickly and pretend to care about the stove.

“It’s good,” she said after a beat.

He looked over his shoulder. “Really?”

“It needs more pepper.”

“That is not what I asked.”

A tiny smile touched her mouth. “Yes. Really.”

He smiled back before he could stop himself.

—

Dinner ended with both of them sharing one side of the couch again, bowls in hand, knees almost touching whenever Isa was human. When she shifted back into cat form she simply climbed into his lap like the issue had been decided long ago.

At some point Y/n started reading old curse notes out loud because Isa said hearing them helped her memory differently than reading them. His voice grew rough with use. Her body grew heavier and warmer against him as she drifted in and out of sleep.

He did not realize his hand had settled around her tiny paw until she squeezed once in her sleep.

His breath caught.

Isa did not wake.

He sat there for a long time after that, staring at the TV he was not watching, one hand loosely cradling her paw like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Maybe it was becoming natural.

That thought was dangerous.

He did not know what to do with it.

The next day was much the same, but easier.

Less panic. More routine.

Y/n took the day off work by claiming food poisoning. This was technically not true, but emotionally he felt it counted. He spent the morning emailing archives and old contacts from university who might know folklore professors. He also ordered a stack of books on regional curse traditions and emotional bindings.

Isa shifted four times before noon.

Once while grooming herself on the windowsill, which left a very confused, half-dressed woman crouched there with one knee on the radiator and no idea where to put her hands.

Once in the kitchen while she was trying to steal a piece of chicken from the cutting board. Human Isa straightened up with a chicken cube in her fingers and looked vaguely offended at being caught.

Once while glaring at a pigeon on the balcony. Y/n opened the curtain and nearly screamed.

And once while laughing.

That one caught them both off guard.

He had been telling her about a client who insisted a logo needed to be “more blue emotionally.” Isa, in cat form, made a sound so suspiciously close to a laugh that he pointed at her and accused her of mocking capitalism. She puffed up, there was a flash of gold, and suddenly she was human on the rug, mid-laugh, one hand over her mouth.

The sound of it stayed in his head for hours.

It was bright. A little rough from disuse. Real.

He liked it too much.

By the third day, they started leaving the apartment for short stretches.

Only when Isa was in cat form. Safer that way, she said.

Y/n bought a plain black harness after an argument that lasted fifteen minutes and involved Isa threatening to bite through his credit card. In the end she tolerated it with the dignity of a queen enduring public humiliation.

He carried her in a soft carrier to a used bookstore across town because one of the owners specialized in folklore and esoteric texts.

“You are enjoying this too much,” Isa muttered from inside the mesh flap.

“Incorrect. I am enjoying not losing you.”

“I know how to walk.”

“You also know how to turn into a naked woman unpredictably.”

Silence.

Then, begrudgingly, “Fair.”

—

The bookstore smelled like old paper and dust and rain-soaked wood. Isa stayed quiet while Y/n browsed, though every so often he swore he could feel her disapproval radiating through the carrier whenever he picked up something useless.

In the end he found two things that felt promising. One old reference volume on soul alteration. One collection of translated curse accounts from pre-modern ritual traditions.

The owner, an elderly woman with silver glasses and unnervingly observant eyes, glanced down at the carrier while ringing him up.

“Quiet cat,” she said.

Y/n smiled stiffly. “She judges loudly in silence.”

The woman hummed and peered closer.

Inside the carrier, Isa stared back with unblinking intensity.

For a second, the woman’s brows twitched upward as if she sensed something odd.

Then she only smiled. “Take care of her.”

Y/n’s hand tightened on the strap. “I will.”

Outside, the sky had gone gray with evening. Streetlights were beginning to flicker on one by one. Cars hissed on wet roads. The city felt soft around the edges.

Y/n shifted the carrier carefully against his side as he walked. “You okay in there?”

“Mrr.”

“I’m choosing to interpret that as yes.”

A pause.

Then, quieter, “You said that fast.”

He blinked. “What?”

“That woman.” Isa’s voice came muffled through the mesh. “When she said to take care of me. You answered fast.”

He looked ahead at the sidewalk.

“Yeah,” he said after a second. “Well.”

“Well what?”

He smiled a little, private and shy all at once. “I meant it.”

The carrier went very quiet.

Y/n did not know that inside it, Isa had gone still.

When they got home, she shifted human almost immediately after he set the carrier down. She emerged from the bathroom a few minutes later in one of the sweaters he had bought her that morning, dark green and slightly too large, sleeves covering half her hands.

Y/n looked up from the kitchen.

And forgot what he had been doing.

Isa froze at the expression on his face. “What?”

He blinked hard. “Nothing.”

“That was definitely something.”

He turned back to the kettle too quickly. “The sweater looks nice.”

Silence.

Then, softer, “Oh.”

He risked another glance.

Isa was touching the sleeve with her fingertips like she had never owned anything soft just because it was soft.

His chest pulled tight.

“It suits you,” he said, more quietly this time.

Her eyes met his.

A slow warmth spread over her cheeks.

“Thanks,” she murmured.

He smiled and looked away before the room could turn into something neither of them was ready to name.

Later, they spread the new books across the coffee table.

The first was mostly useless.

The second made Isa go quiet halfway through.

“What?” Y/n asked immediately.

She tapped a section of the page. “This.”

He leaned in.

The passage described transformation curses tied not only to punishment, but to perception. It claimed some curse forms weakened in environments of sustained emotional safety, allowing the original self to emerge intermittently before full release.

Y/n looked up. “That sounds like you.”

Isa nodded slowly. “Maybe.”

“It says emotional safety matters.”

“Yes.”

He hesitated. “Does that mean... this place is helping?”

She looked around the apartment. At the couch. The cups in the sink. The blanket she had taken over. The dead plant by the balcony. Him.

Her expression softened in a way that made him want to hold still and never break whatever this was.

“Yeah,” she said quietly. “I think it is.”

Y/n’s throat went dry.

He looked back at the page because it was safer than looking at her too long.

“Then maybe we’re doing better than we thought.”

“Maybe.”

The word stayed suspended between them.

Outside, night deepened.

Inside, the lamp beside the couch cast everything in warm gold.

They sat close enough that their knees touched once, then did not immediately move apart.

Neither commented on it.

At some point Isa leaned over to read a line and her hair brushed his cheek. He almost forgot how breathing worked.

At some point Y/n handed her a mug of tea without asking how she took it because he already knew.

At some point they stopped feeling like a cursed girl and the guy helping her and started feeling, dangerously, like two people building something gentle in the middle of chaos.

Neither of them said that out loud.

Neither of them had to.

It was nearly midnight when Y/n stood and stretched, groaning. “I need air.”

Isa looked up from the open book in her lap. She was human again, for the moment, bundled in the green sweater and soft pajama pants.

“The balcony?”

“Yeah.”

She closed the book and followed him.

The balcony was narrow and cluttered with dead herbs and one folding chair that had seen better days. The city spread out beyond it in layers of light and windows and distant sound. Cool air pressed gently against their skin.

Y/n leaned on the railing. Isa stood beside him, arms folded inside the sweater sleeves.

For a while they just looked.

Then Y/n said, “Do you miss it?”

“What?”

“Being up there.” He tipped his chin toward the roofs and towers beyond. “Before all this.”

Isa was quiet for a long moment.

“Yes,” she said at last. “And no.”

He glanced at her.

“I miss flying across rooftops,” she admitted. “I miss feeling useful. I miss... knowing what I’m for.” Her gaze stayed on the city. “But I don’t miss being alone in it.”

Y/n looked forward again before she could see what that answer did to him.

“Good,” he said softly.

Isa looked at him. “Good?”

He nodded once. “Because you’re not.”

The silence after that was not awkward. Just full.

Warm.

A breeze lifted a few strands of her hair. Without thinking, Y/n reached out and tucked them gently behind her ear.

The second he realized what he was doing, he almost short-circuited.

Isa froze.

His hand lingered for the briefest second against the side of her face before he pulled it back.

“Sorry,” he said quickly. “It was just in your face.”

Isa stared at him.

Then, very softly, “It’s okay.”

Neither moved.

The city hummed below.

Y/n’s pulse was loud in his ears.

Isa looked at his hand like she still felt it there.

Then, as if the universe could not allow tenderness to exist for too long without consequences, golden light flickered along her skin.

Her eyes widened.

“Wait,” she whispered.

Y/n tensed. “Are you shifting?”

“I think so.”

She had no time to move. The light flashed brighter, wrapping around her in a brief shimmer.

Y/n instinctively stepped closer, one hand reaching as if to steady her even though there was nothing to hold.

Then the light collapsed inward.

—

In the same instant, down on the street below, a man passing beneath the apartment building looked up.

Black coat.

Gloved hands.

Hair slicked neatly back.

Amber eyes catching the streetlight like old poison.

Eun-joon.

He stopped dead on the sidewalk.

For one impossible heartbeat, no one moved.

Isa, now fully human on the balcony, saw him at the exact same moment he saw her.

Her face went white.

Y/n followed her line of sight, confusion turning to cold dread as the man below slowly lifted his head.

Eun-joon’s expression changed with terrifying speed.

First disbelief.

Then comprehension.

Then panic so sharp it looked almost ugly.

His gaze flicked from Isa to Y/n standing beside her.

And in that instant, Y/n saw it happen.

The calculation.

The decision.

Eun-joon smiled.

It was small. Wrong. Immediate.

Isa’s hand shot out and gripped Y/n’s wrist so hard it hurt.

“Get inside,” she whispered.

But below them, Eun-joon had already taken one step backward into the shadows, eyes never leaving Y/n’s face.

And then he was gone.

—

On the right, the friends the girls had chosen over a decade. Managers, stylists, a few fellow idols who had slipped in under the radar, people who knew enough to keep their mouths closed and their blessings loud.

In the front row, alone on the right side, sat Soo-ah.

She wore a simple pale lavender dress that brushed her knees, hair curled softly, a small jasmine corsage at her wrist. She looked both like a bride’s sister and like something more important: the keeper of the story that had led everyone here. Her hands were folded around a small bouquet of white tulips that YN had given her that morning with a quiet kiss to her forehead.

The officiant stood beneath the jasmine arch. An old friend of YN’s from his early music days. Now a registered officiant with laugh lines deep enough to hold decades. He held a simple leather folder and kept glancing toward the sliding glass doors that led from the living room to the backyard.

Music drifted out first.

A piano version of Playing with Fire, slowed and turned tender, played through small speakers hidden behind pots of hydrangeas. A nod to their past lives, rewritten for today.

Everyone rose.

The glass doors slid open.

YN stepped out first.

He wore a simple black suit, no tie, white shirt open at the throat. He had insisted on that part. No choking collars today. His dark hair was threaded now with more silver than two years ago, temples streaked in a way that only made him look more solid. More real. He held a single jasmine blossom pinned at his lapel.

He walked slowly down the aisle and took his place beneath the trellis.

For a heartbeat he closed his eyes, breathing in the scent of jasmine. He could almost see Min ji’s bare feet in the grass, hear her laughing at how nervous he looked.

Look at you, she would have said. Such a handsome idiot. Do not faint. It is bad for the photos.

His mouth twitched.

He opened his eyes as the living room doors parted again.

The song shifted into a gentle medley. A quiet thread of Rosé’s voice in the instrumental, recorded secretly weeks ago when she had locked herself in the basement studio and told no one what she was making.

They came out not in a line of hierarchy, but together.

Four hands held the edge of the sliding door for a second like they were bracing themselves, then released.

The first to step into the light was Jisoo.

She wore a satin dress in soft ivory, the neckline clean and simple, the skirt falling in a straight elegant line to her ankles. Her hair was twisted into a loose low bun, a few dark strands framing her face. She carried a small bouquet of jasmine and pale pink roses. Her eyes were already shining.

Beside her walked Rosé.

Her dress was similar in cut but with a slightly softer drape, the fabric catching the light with each step. Her honey blonde hair fell in waves down her back, a few jasmine flowers tucked above her ear. She carried white lilies mixed with eucalyptus, the greens a gentle contrast to her flushed cheeks.

Behind them, in perfect, unplanned synchronicity, came Lisa and Jennie.

Lisa wore a dress that hugged her figure at the waist before flaring slightly, slit just high enough to let her move with her usual easy stride. Her dark hair was long and straight, a single jasmine tucked at the nape of her neck. She clutched a bouquet of orchids, bright and playful. Beside her, Jennie’s dress was minimalist, almost severe in its clean lines, but softened by the soft wave of her hair and the tiny diamonds at her ears. Her bouquet was made of white peonies, full and lush.

They did not come one by one.

They came in pairs, then all four, walking down the aisle like the universe had decided that the rules of weddings could be rewritten for them.

The murmur of guests faded. The music seemed to quiet, even as it played.

YN felt his chest pull tight.

He had seen them in every state. Sweaty in practice clothes. Half asleep in his kitchen. Crying into his chest on the basement floor. Laughing on his couch with soju flushed cheeks. But now, walking toward him in ivory and flowers and sunlight, it hit with a different weight.

This is real.

This is happening.

They reached him and took their places in front of him. Two on each side, then shifting instinctively until they made a loose half circle, all facing him.

The officiant cleared his throat, smiling.

“I will admit,” he said, voice gentle, “in all my years doing this, it is my first time marrying one man to four women. But when I look at you all together, I see something I recognize. Not a spectacle. A family.”

A soft ripple of laughter moved through the guests, easing some of the tightness in the air.

He continued.

“Today is not about what the world thinks is normal. Today is about what you know in your bones is right. You walked into this backyard over and over again, each time leaving a little less lonely than when you arrived. You cooked together. Fought together. Cried together. You healed here. And you chose each other. That is what we are honoring today.”

He looked at YN.

“YN. Do you have vows you would like to say?”

YN had not wanted something written. He had tried, pen hovering over paper for nights, but nothing felt like it fit. In the end he had folded the blank sheet and thrown it away. Today, looking at them, he was glad he had.

He took a breath.

“I used to think,” he said slowly, “that I had used up all my chances at happiness before I hit thirty. That I had ruined my life and someone else’s and that the rest of my days were just… atonement. When Minji died, I thought that was part of what I deserved. To be alone. To raise Soo-ah and make sure I did not pass on any of the worst parts of me. To cook dinners for two and pretend the silence did not swallow me at night.”

Four faces watched him. Behind them, Soo-ah’s shoulders shook once.

“Then you started showing up,” he said, looking at each of the girls in turn. “Loud. Hungry. Tired. Laughing. You invaded my kitchen, my studio, my weekends. You brought noise into rooms that had forgotten the sound of it. You let me teach you how to flip a pancake without burning it. You let me listen when the world was too heavy. Somewhere along the way, without asking permission, you made me want to live again. Not just exist.”

He swallowed, eyes blurring for a second, then focused on Jennie.

“Jennie. You taught me that strength is not pretending you are not scared. Watching you walk through this world with your armor up and still choosing to trust me with the soft parts… that is one of the biggest honors of my life. I promise to be the man who will always step between you and the things that try to hurt you. I will never ask you to be less than you are. Only to lean on me when the crown feels too heavy.”

Jennie’s lower lip trembled. A tear escaped, tracking down her cheek. She did not wipe it away.

He turned to Lisa.

“Lisa. You remind me what joy looks like when it moves. You crash into rooms like a storm, hug first and ask later. You made it impossible for me to keep walls up. You make me laugh when I forget how. I promise to give you a place you can always come back to, no matter how far you roam. A couch to crash on. A bed to steal all the blankets in. Arms that will hold you when the lights go down after the loudest show of your life and you just need to be someone’s girl, not everyone’s idol.”

Lisa sniffed hard, eyes shining, a watery grin breaking through.

He looked to Rosé.

“Rosie. You carry your heart in your songs even when you think you are hiding it. You let me hear the parts of you that never make it to the radio. You trusted me with your unfinished melodies and your doubts. I promise to listen. Really listen. To your music, to your silences, to the things you do not know how to put into words yet. I will be your safe place to fall apart and the arms that help you put yourself back together.”

Rosé bit down on a sob, shoulders shaking, tears spilling freely now as she clutched her bouquet a little tighter.

Then Jisoo.

“Jisoo. You have spent so long being composed, the unshakable one everyone leans on. You showed me the parts of you that are tired. That want to rest. That want to be held and told it is okay to step back. I promise to be your quiet. To be the place where you do not have to smile if you do not feel like it. I will protect your peace, even from the parts of you that think you are only worth something if you are performing.”

Jisoo’s lashes clumped with tears. She let them fall, making no move to hide them.

YN drew a slow breath.

“And to all four of you together,” he said, voice rough, “I promise to never take what you are giving me for granted. I promise to be honest, even when it is ugly. To communicate. To listen when you are jealous, or scared, or hurting. To hold your hands, one by one or all at once. To show up. To cook too much food. To be the man you can be proud to say you chose. I am not perfect. I never will be. But every day you give me, I will spend trying to be worthy of this life we are building.”

He fell quiet.

The officiant gave the girls a small nod.

“Would the four of you like to speak?”

The plan had been for one or two to say something short.

Instead, Rosé stepped forward first, eyes red, voice shaking a little but clear.

“When I first came to this house, I thought it was just a place with good food and a comfy couch,” she said, sniffing. “Then I realized it was more. It was a place that smelled like jasmine and garlic and safety. YN, you made me feel seen without asking for anything back. You never looked at me like a product. You looked at me like a person who could be tired, or silly, or wrong. You gave me a space to write songs that were not designed for charts but for my own heart. I promise to keep bringing my messy drafts to you. I promise to be there when your past feels heavy. To remind you that you are not that man anymore. To sing with you in the kitchen until we burn the toast.”

Soft laughter rippled through the guests, breaking some of the tension.

Lisa stepped up next, swiping at her eyes with the back of her hand.

“You know me,” she said, lips wobbling. “I joke. I tease. I climb you like a jungle gym. But it is because when I hug you, I feel ten again. Safe. Not judged. Not performing. Just… me. You never told me to calm down or act more ladylike. You just told me to take my shoes off before I ruined your floors. When the tour offer came and I thought I would drown in the pressure, you did not tell me what to do. You told me you would be here whether I went or stayed. That kind of steady? I did not know I needed it until you. I promise to keep making you laugh when you get too serious. I promise to send you dumb dance videos from whatever city I am in. And I promise to come home. Always.”

She looked like she might crumble, but Rosé squeezed her elbow, steadying her.

Jisoo stepped lightly forward.

“I have played a lot of roles,” she said quietly. “Funny unnie. Responsible member. Good daughter. Good sunbae. With you, I learned I can be just… Jisoo. The girl who likes bad jokes and worse puns. The woman who sometimes wants to drop all the expectations and just breathe. You looked at me like I was enough even when I was doing nothing. I promise to bring you bad jokes for the rest of our lives. To make sure the house is always stocked with snacks. To pull you away from your guilt when it tries to drag you under. And to let you hold me when mine tries to do the same.”

Finally, Jennie.

She took a breath like she was steadying herself before a stage she could not see past the lights.

“I have a hard time trusting people,” she said, voice low but strong. “Everyone wants something. Everyone has an angle. That night in Gangnam, when you pulled over and stepped out of the car without even thinking twice, you could have gotten hurt. You did not care. You just saw someone in danger and moved. Later, you did not make it a big thing. You just checked if I had eaten and waited in your car until my lights turned on. You have never used it against me. Never made me feel small for being scared. That is when I started falling. I promise to be honest with you even when it is ugly. To tell you when I am jealous or spiraling instead of punishing you for it. I promise to protect what we have from anyone who tries to cheapen it. Including parts of myself that still think I do not deserve this.”

The officiant cleared his throat quietly, suspiciously shiny eyed.

“Do you,” he said, looking at YN, “take these four women, each of them, as your partners? To love, to honor, to support and to cherish, in whatever ways you all agree, for as long as this love lives?”

“I do,” YN said, without even a moment of hesitation.

“Do you,” he asked, turning to the girls, “take YN as your partner? Do you promise to communicate, to respect each other in this unusual shape of family you are choosing, to love him and each other with honesty and care?”

Four voices answered in overlapping harmony.

“I do.”

Soo-ah’s breath hitched audibly from the front row.

The rings were not traditional either.

No perfect matching set.

Instead, they had decided months ago, giggling over samples at the kitchen table, to choose something that fit each of them.

First, YN took Jennie’s left hand. Slid a slim band of white gold with a tiny black diamond flush in the center onto her ring finger. Strong. Understated. A secret only visible up close.

He turned to Lisa next. Her ring was a simple yellow gold band with a tiny engraving of a smiley face on the inside where only she would feel it. She laughed wetly when she slid it on and saw the engraving, shoulders shaking.

Rosé’s was rose gold, thin and delicate, with microscopic notes etched along the side. A bar of sheet music, the notes forming the beginning of the melody she had written for today.

Jisoo’s was platinum, clean and straight, but with a tiny jasmine flower engraved on the inside curve. She traced it with her thumb when she felt the cool metal slide home.

Then, together, they each took a simple band from the padded box on the small table.

One by one, they slid them onto YN’s finger. Four slim bands of different metals that stacked together. Gold from Lisa. White gold from Jennie. Rose gold from Rosé. Platinum from Jisoo.

Not identical.

But together, they made something new.

The officiant smiled.

“By the power vested in me by the government that does not technically recognize this but can mind its own business,” he said, earning a low rumble of laughter from both sides, “and by the love you have all clearly chosen, I pronounce you… a family.”

He closed his folder.

“You may kiss your… husbands, wives, each other. Just do it quickly before the parents faint.”

Laughter broke the tension entirely.

They did not choreograph it. Had tried, then given up, deciding to let it happen.

Unsurprisingly, Lisa moved first.

She lunged forward and kissed YN square on the mouth, both hands on his cheeks, laughter tickling at the edges of the kiss. He kissed her back, one hand on her waist.

When she pulled back, Rosé leaned in, slower but no less sure. Their kiss was soft, lingering, tasting of tears and jasmine. She whispered something against his lips that only he heard.

Jisoo stepped closer, hands light on his shoulders, kissing him with a tenderness that made something in his chest ache.

Jennie waited until last again.

She took his face in her hands, kissed him with a quiet intensity that promised tonight would not be quiet at all. When she broke away, her thumb swiped at the wetness at the corner of his eye.

For a moment, beneath the jasmine trellis, it was just them.

Four women, one man, all of them holding some piece of each other.

The applause washed over them like a tide.

Soo-ah was on her feet before anyone else, hands clapping, tears streaming freely down her face and a grin wide enough to split it.

He caught her eye over the heads of the girls crowding him, mouthed thank you.

She shook her head, mouthed back you are welcome.

The reception was not some grand hotel ballroom.

It was their backyard.

Long wooden tables set under string lights, simple white plates, food brought in from the places that meant something to them. The tiny pojangmacha where YN used to sneak off at twenty three. The Thai place Lisa swore tasted closest to home. The brunch café Rosé loved. The family restaurant in Gunpo that Jisoo had taken them all to once on a rare free day. The bakery in Cheongdam that still sent Jennie birthday cakes no matter where in the world she was.

There was no seating chart.

People found their own places. Parents mingled cautiously at first, then, after a few glasses of wine and seeing how happy their children looked, relaxed.

Lisa’s mother pulled YN aside halfway through the meal. Her eyes were damp but clear.

“Take care of my daughter,” she said, voice thickly accented. “She is big on stage but small in here.” She tapped a finger to her own chest.

“I know,” he said softly. “I promise.”

Rosé’s father gripped his hand hard, English lilting. “You seem like a good man,” he said. “Unusual situation. But my girl smiles different when she is here. That is enough for me.”

Jisoo’s mother was more reserved.

“This is not what I ever pictured for my daughter,” she admitted. “But then, I did not picture her standing on stages in front of tens of thousands either. She has always chosen her own path. She looks… peaceful. I cannot argue with that.”

Jennie’s mom hugged him wordlessly. When she pulled back, she patted his cheek like he was nineteen.

“You saved her twice,” she said quietly. “Once in that alley. Once from herself. Take care of her stubborn heart. It matches yours.”

The girls stole him back whenever they could.

Jennie dragged him to the side of the yard near the jasmine trellis for photos, insisting on at least one where he kissed her forehead.

Lisa made him dance, badly, to an old 2NE1 song playing from the speakers. She laughed until she had to wipe her eyes again.

Rosé sang.

Not on a stage.

Standing on the grass with a cheap wired microphone they had dug out of a cupboard, her guitar slung over her shoulder. She sang the song she had written in the basement studio, the one she had almost been too scared to show anyone.

This time the lyrics were complete.

Verses about jasmine and midnight soju and a man who learned to forgive himself.

The chorus about choosing a love that did not fit in any neat box but fit perfectly around their bruised hearts.

By the time she finished, YN was not the only one clapping through tears.

Later, long after the food had been picked over and the parents had begun to stand and stretch and hug and make their way toward taxis and quiet streets, the five of them slipped away.

Not upstairs.

Not yet.

To the basement studio.

It felt right, ending the night where so much had begun.

The fairy lights cast a soft glow over the mixing console, the worn leather couch, the rug where they had once sat in a knot of limbs and tears and heavy confessions.

Now, they stood facing each other.

Suits and dresses. Rings catching the low light.

Soo ah had gone to sleep two hours earlier, insisting she would be fine alone, that she had a midterm next week and needed to actually rest sometime between all this history. She had paused at the top of the basement stairs though, turned back and said:

“Do not be too loud. I have an exam. And we have neighbors.”

Her grin had made a liar of her scolding.

In the studio, no one spoke at first.

Lisa finally broke the quiet, rocking back on her heels.

“So,” she said softly. “We really did it.”

Rosé let out a shaky laugh. “We are all legally still single, technically, but emotionally very much not.”

Jisoo touched the jasmine engraving on her ring, idly. “The government cannot handle us. Their loss.”

Jennie stepped into YN’s space, fingers pressing against his chest just above his heart.

“We get to go home with you,” she murmured. “No drivers. No early call times. No managers waiting in vans. Just… us.”

He lifted his hands, one settling at the small of her back, the other reaching out for whoever wanted to take it.

They all did.

For a moment there was nothing complicated about it.

Lisa’s fingers twined with his left hand, thumb stroking the back of it.

Jisoo slid her smaller hand over his knuckles, their rings clinking softly.

Rosé stepped in behind Lisa, pressing her chest to YN’s arm, cheek against his shoulder.

Jennie leaned into his front, forehead resting against his collarbone.

They stood there, in the heart of the house that had heard their worst and best, wrapped around each other.

No cameras.

No curated version.

Just five people who had decided the world’s rules did not get the final say on their happiness.

Tears came again.

Quieter this time.

Relief more than anything.

YN bent his head, pressing his lips to Jennie’s hair.

“Thank you,” he whispered, voice rough. “For choosing me. For choosing this. For giving me a second life.”

Jennie sniffed, laughing a little. “You are stuck with us now, old man.”

Lisa lifted her head, smirking even as her eyes shone. “We are going to ruin your back. And your sleep schedule.”

Rosé hummed softly. “We will also stretch with you and make you tea, so it balances.”

Jisoo smiled, slow and sure. “We will grow old together. That is the point.”

He looked at them.

Saw his past, his present, his impossible future.

Four women who had walked into his kitchen one weekend and slowly dismantled every wall he had learned to live behind.

He tightened his arms.

“Come on,” he said quietly. “Let us go home.”

They went upstairs together.

—

The master bedroom had never looked like this before.

Soft lamps glowed from either side of the bed, their shades turned down low so the light washed the room in warm gold instead of harsh white. The windows were open just enough for the jasmine-scented air to drift through the curtains. On the dresser someone, probably Soo-ah, had left a small vase of white blooms and a handwritten card that simply said:

Do not break the bed.

Love,

Your favorite child.

Rosé laughed when she saw it, her hand flying up to cover her mouth.

“I am framing that,” Lisa said, already kicking off her heels one by one, toes sinking into the thick rug.

They were all quiet in that particular way that comes after a long, perfect day. Happy. Drained. Deliciously dazed.

The room felt smaller with all five of them inside it, not cramped, just deliciously full. The bed dominated one wall, a broad, solid thing that had seen too many lonely nights. Tonight the crisp white sheets were turned down neatly, the soft gray duvet folded halfway back. The sight of it made something hot and possessive twist deep in YN’s gut.

He had slept here alone for so long that his body still expected emptiness.

Now four breathtaking women in ivory silk and soft perfume stood barefoot on the same rug, looking at him like he was their favorite meal.

For a second he forgot how to breathe.

Jennie noticed first.

She stepped close, reached up, and popped the top button of his shirt open with nimble fingers. Her nails grazed his skin.

“Breathe,” she murmured, voice already husky. “You look like the one about to be ruined tonight.”

He let out a rough laugh, tension bleeding away.

“I kind of am,” he admitted. “First time as your husband.”

“Well,” Lisa grinned, wiggling her toes deeper into the rug, “you did good for our husband.”

Rosé moved to the window, brushing the curtain aside to glance at the glittering city lights below. When she turned back, her hair spilled over one shoulder and her eyes were soft and hungry.

“We are really here,” she whispered. “No cameras. No guests. Just us… and this bed.”

Jisoo had already drifted to the bedside table, absently straightening the lamp, fingers trailing over the wood. She looked up at him with that calm, knowing smile.

“We should get out of these dresses,” she said, laughter dancing at the edges of her voice, “before Lisa rips hers trying to do a cartwheel.”

“Hey,” Lisa protested, eyes sparkling, “I only do cartwheels when I am trying to get fucked.”

The words snapped the last thread of ceremony. The room filled with easy, filthy laughter and the rustle of fabric as they moved.

They slipped into the adjoining bathroom two at a time. Giggles floated out, the hiss of zippers, soft curses when hooks caught, and one sharp yelp from Lisa followed by Rosé’s bright laugh.

“You are stepping on the train, you clumsy slut.”

Outside, YN sat on the edge of the bed and worked his tie loose, then shrugged off his jacket. He unlaced his shoes slowly, watching his own hands, heart pounding with a new kind of hunger.

He had been nervous during the vows.

This felt different. This was the raw need to claim and be claimed by all four of them at once.

He was still in his shirt and trousers when the bathroom door opened.

Jennie stepped out first, barefoot, wearing nothing but a tiny cream camisole and matching shorts that barely covered the curve of her ass. The thin cotton clung to her nipples, already hard and poking against the fabric. She climbed onto the bed without hesitation, settling on her knees between his spread thighs, palms sliding up to rest high on his legs.

“Hi, husband,” she purred.

His cock twitched at the word.

“Hi, wife.”

Jennie’s thumbs traced slow circles dangerously close to his growing bulge. “You okay?”

“Getting harder by the second.”

Behind her the others emerged.

Rosé wore one of his old white t-shirts and nothing else. The hem barely reached the tops of her thighs; every time she moved he caught a flash of smooth, bare pussy. Lisa had on a tight ribbed tank that hugged her perky tits and tiny cotton shorts riding high enough to show the bottom curve of her ass cheeks. Jisoo wore a pale beige silk slip that skimmed her full breasts and hips, the thin straps slipping slightly off her shoulders.

They crawled onto the bed around him like hungry cats.

Rosé curled against his right side, pressing her soft tits against his arm, one bare leg sliding over his. Lisa sprawled on his left, knee up, thigh draped possessively over his lap so her warm core pressed against his hip. Jisoo knelt at the foot of the bed between his legs, hands resting on his thighs, eyes dark with intent. Jennie stayed right where she was, straddling one of his thighs now, slowly rocking her barely-covered pussy against the muscle there.

For a long moment they simply breathed each other in.

Then Jennie leaned in and kissed him, deep and filthy from the start. Her tongue slid into his mouth, tasting of champagne and pure want. He groaned into her, one hand fisting in her hair while the other grabbed a handful of her ass and squeezed hard.

Rosé’s small hand slipped under his shirt, nails raking lightly down his abs. “We waited all day for this,” she whispered against his neck before sucking a mark just below his jaw.

Lisa nipped at his earlobe, then licked the shell of his ear. “Gonna ride you so good tonight, oppa. All of us.”

Jisoo’s fingers worked open his belt and zipper with calm precision. She tugged his pants and boxers down just enough to free his thick, heavy cock. It sprang up, already leaking at the tip, veins pulsing. Jisoo wrapped her elegant fingers around the base and gave one slow, firm stroke.

“Fuck, look at him,” she murmured, voice low and reverent. “So hard for his wives already.Do I have to mention about his size?”

Heat flooded his body. Four sets of hands, four mouths, four perfect bodies all focused on him.

Jennie broke the kiss only to pull her camisole over her head, freeing her full tits. Her dark nipples were tight and begging. She cupped them, offering them to him. He leaned forward and sucked one into his mouth, tongue flicking roughly while his hand pinched the other. Jennie moaned, grinding her soaked pussy harder against his thigh, leaving a wet streak on his pants.

Rosé tugged his shirt open, buttons flying. She kissed and licked down his chest, teeth grazing a nipple before she continued lower. When she reached his cock, Jisoo kindly held it upright for her. Rosé licked a long, slow stripe from balls to tip, then swirled her tongue around the head, tasting the precum beading there.

“Mm, so sweet,” she hummed.

Lisa shimmied out of her tiny shorts, revealing her smooth, glistening pussy. She climbed higher, straddling his chest facing away from him so her ass was right in front of his face. “Eat me while they suck you, husband.”

He did not need to be told twice. He grabbed her hips and pulled her back until her dripping cunt covered his mouth. He licked broad and messy, tongue fucking into her tight hole before sucking hard on her swollen clit. Lisa cried out, grinding down on his face, her juices coating his lips and chin.

Jisoo and Rosé took turns sucking his cock. One would deep-throat him until her nose pressed against his pelvis while the other licked and sucked his balls. They passed him back and forth like a toy, spit dripping down his shaft, making wet, obscene sounds that filled the room.

Jennie watched for a moment, then straddled his hips properly. She reached down, lined his cock up with her soaked entrance, and sank down in one slow, greedy motion. Her tight, velvet pussy swallowed every inch until her ass rested against his hips.

“Fuck… so full,” she gasped, head falling back.

She started riding him hard, tits bouncing with every slam of her hips. The wet slap of skin on skin mixed with Lisa’s moans as he ate her out and the wet slurping sounds from Rosé and Jisoo worshipping his cock and balls whenever Jennie lifted up.

They rotated.

When Jennie’s thighs started shaking, Lisa took her place, bouncing on his cock with wild energy, her ass clapping loudly against him. Rosé climbed onto his face next, grinding her sweet pussy against his tongue while Jisoo sucked on her tits.

Jisoo was last. She rode him slow and deep, rolling her hips in sensual circles, letting him feel every ripple of her inner walls. Her silk slip was pushed up around her waist, tits spilling out of the top as she fucked herself on him with perfect control.

They took turns riding his cock, his tongue, his fingers. Sometimes two at once: Jennie on his dick while Rosé sat on his face. Sometimes all four of them touching him, kissing him, marking him with teeth and nails.

He lost count of how many times they came. Jennie first, screaming his name as her pussy clenched and gushed around him. Then Lisa, squirting messily all over his stomach while she rode him like a woman possessed. Rosé came with a broken sob, thighs trembling around his head. Jisoo milked him with slow, devastating rolls of her hips until she shattered, whispering filthy praises in his ear.

Finally, when he could not hold back any longer, they knelt around him, faces close, tongues out, hands stroking him fast and tight.

“Cum for us, husband,” Jennie ordered, voice wrecked.

“Fill our mouths,” Rosé begged.

“Paint your wives,” Lisa grinned.

Jisoo just squeezed the base of his cock and leaned in to suck the head.

He came with a guttural groan, thick ropes of hot cum shooting across their beautiful faces and tongues. They moaned and licked it up, sharing messy, cum-covered kisses, swallowing every drop they could reach.

Afterward they collapsed in a sweaty, sticky, satisfied tangle.

Rosé curled half on his chest, one leg thrown over his thigh, her cum-smeared lips brushing his nipple. Lisa draped herself over his side, fingers lazily playing with his softening cock. Jennie tucked under his chin, one leg hooked over his, her pussy still leaking his cum onto his hip. Jisoo lay along his other side, arm across his stomach, their wedding rings glinting together in the low light.

The room smelled of sex, jasmine, and pure bliss.

He pressed soft kisses to each of their heads, tasting salt and cum on their skin.

“My wives,” he whispered into the dark, voice rough with exhaustion and love.

Four soft, contented murmurs answered him.

—

By the time the jasmine bloomed again, the house on the hill had changed in ways no one could have predicted.

It started, like most big things in that home, quietly.

Rosé was the first.

It was a chilly morning in late autumn, two years after the wedding. The kitchen smelled like coffee and toasted bread, the usual Saturday orchestra of clinking mugs and soft music humming from the living room speakers.

YN stood at the stove in sweatpants and a white tee, flipping eggs with the ease of a man who had cooked breakfast for too many people for too many years. Jennie sat at the island scrolling through her phone, hair up in a loose bun, Yoo-hoo, look at this tone of half distraction. Lisa was perched on the counter, legs swinging, trying to dip her toast directly into the pan until he smacked her hand away with a spatula. Jisoo leaned against the fridge sipping coffee, eyes still heavy with sleep, smiling at the chaos.

Rosé had not come down yet.

At first no one thought much of it. She was often the slowest in the mornings if there had been a late studio night.

But when YN called up the stairs for the third time and got only a faint, muffled answer, something in his chest tightened. He turned off the stove and wiped his hands.

“I will check,” he said.

He pushed open the bedroom door to find Rosé sitting on the edge of the bed, still in an oversized gray tee, hair a tangled halo, elbows on her knees, staring at the floor.

“Hey,” he said gently, stepping in. “You okay?”

She looked up at him, eyes wide in a way that made her seem younger for a second. There was a white stick in her hand.

He knew what it was before he saw it properly.

His heart stuttered.

“I… I did not feel right,” she said, voice small. “Late. Tired. I thought it was just… tour stress. Jet lag. But Jess unnie made a joke yesterday about me eating like a pregnant woman and I…”

She held the stick out with trembling fingers.

He sat beside her, the mattress dipping. The little plastic window was impossible to misread.

Two clear lines.

Bold. Sure.

Positive.

For a second, neither of them spoke.

He felt his throat tighten. Old memories hit with surprising force: the sterile smell of the clinic two decades earlier. The grainy black and white of Soo ah’s first ultrasound. The knot of terror and awe.

Those days had been wrapped in so much guilt that he had not given himself permission to really feel the joy. He had been too busy wondering if he deserved any of it.

Now he looked at Rosé. At the fear and hope warring in her eyes. His own hand shook a little when he reached out to curl his fingers around hers.

“How do you feel?” he asked quietly.

“Scared,” she whispered. “Happy. Really… really happy. But scared. I have schedules. Tours. The label will freak out. The fans… I do not know. And you… the others…”

“Hey.” He squeezed her hand, firm. “We will figure that out. Together. The label, the fans, all of it. You are not alone in this. And me?”

He swallowed, letting the truth swell in his chest until it had to come out.

“I am happy,” he said. “So happy it hurts. If you want this, if we choose this… I am here. Every step.”

Her lower lip trembled.

“Really?” she asked. “You are not… overwhelmed? You already raised one. Now there is four of us and…”

He laughed, soft and a little shaky.

“I am definitely overwhelmed,” he admitted. “But in the best possible way.”

Tears spilled over her lashes.

He pulled her into his arms.

She folded against him, forehead pressed into his shoulder, her breath hitching once, twice before settling into a pattern between laughter and sobs.

They sat like that until the door burst open without a knock.

“Yah, did you two elope without us? Breakfast is getting cold,” Lisa announced, then stopped dead when she saw Rosé’s face and the way YN’s arms were wrapped around her.

Jennie and Jisoo were right behind her, peering over her shoulder.

“What is wrong?” Jennie’s voice sharpened instantly. “Who do I have to kill?”

Rosé turned in YN’s arms, still clutching the test in one hand. Her cheeks were wet, but she was smiling now. Small. Disbelieving.

“I am pregnant,” she said.

The room froze.

Even the air stilled, somehow.

Lisa’s mouth fell open.

Jennie’s eyes went huge.

Jisoo’s coffee cup wobbled in her hand before she set it very carefully on the dresser.

“Pregnant,” Jennie repeated, like she had never heard the word before. “Like… with a baby.”

Lisa made a small strangled sound that might have been an attempt at a cheer, then half tripped over her own feet in her rush to cross the room. She flung herself down beside them and wrapped both arms around Rosé’s shoulders from the other side.

“A baby,” she said into her hair. “Our baby. Oh my god.”

Jennie sat down on the floor at their feet, as if her knees would not hold her. Her hand, almost on instinct, moved to Rosé’s stomach, though there was nothing visible yet.

“How far along?” Jisoo asked, voice soft but clear, perching on the other side of the bed.

“I do not know,” Rosé sniffed. “A few weeks maybe? I only realized I was late last night.”

She looked up at YN again, searching.

His gaze was steady.

“We will see a doctor,” he said. “Today if we can. We will do this properly.”

Lisa’s eyes were wet now too, tears spilling down even as she laughed.

“I am going to be the hottest aunt in Seoul,” she declared, then corrected herself quickly. “No, wait, we are not doing that aunt thing. I am going to be… what are we?”

Jennie let out a small watery laugh.

“Moms,” she said. “We are going to be moms.”

The word hung in the air like a new constellation.

Moms.

Rosé burst into fresh tears, nodding, half laughing, clutching the test and YN’s shirt like lifelines.

Jisoo’s hand settled gently over Jennie’s on Rosé’s belly.

“Then let us be good ones,” she said simply.

—

The months that followed rearranged their world in the gentlest, most relentless way.

The first ultrasound was an exercise in controlled chaos.

The five of them squeezed into the small room, four women and one man clustered around the examination table, Rosé in a hospital gown, bare stomach slick with cold gel. The obstetrician, a middle aged woman with kind eyes and the resigned air of someone who had seen every possible shape of family, barely blinked at the crowd.

“As long as no one faints,” she said dryly, “you are all welcome to stay.”

Her English was clear enough that Rosé’s parents, on a video call propped up against the wall, understood too. Their faces filled the small phone screen, beaming from a different hemisphere.

The grainy toll of the machine filled the room as the probe slid across Rosé’s skin.

Then there it was.

A flicker.

A small, pulsing light on the screen.

“That is the heartbeat,” the doctor said. “Healthy. Strong.”

The sound came a second later, a rapid whoosh whoosh whoosh that filled the space like a secret revealed.

Rosé covered her mouth with her hand, shoulders shaking.

Lisa’s hand found YN’s and squeezed so hard his fingers popped.

Jennie blinked rapidly, tears spilling anyway.

Even Jisoo, who had seen lives being made into stories on scripts for years, looked undone.

YN stared at the screen until it blurred. His own heart raced in his chest in time with the small one.

He remembered standing in a room like this once, terrified he would not be enough.

This time, the fear was still there, but it was balanced by something else: four other adults whose hands he could feel on his skin, on Rosé’s arm, on each other.

They walked out of the clinic that day a little dazed.

On the sidewalk, under a pale blue sky, Lisa suddenly grabbed Rosé’s free hand and lifted both their arms.

“Baby’s first sky,” she announced.

Rosé laughed, wiping her eyes. “She cannot see it.”

“Or he,” Jennie said.

YN looked at them. At Rosé holding the little black and white sonogram printout like a holy object. At Jennie already googling prenatal vitamins on her phone. At Lisa bouncing on the balls of her feet as if she might burst with excitement. At Jisoo steady, already mentally color coding schedules for check ups and rest days.

He felt something unclench deep inside him.

They would make it work.

They did more than make it work.

They built a new rhythm.

Schedules were rearranged. Secret meetings were held with labels and managers and PR teams. There were negotiations and compromises and at least one heated argument in a conference room where YN, very calmly, told an executive that if they tried to push Rosé on a world tour in her third trimester he would personally see that every detail leaked to the press.

He did it politely.

Firmly.

The message was received.

The fandom found out in little bursts and then all at once, as they always did. There were think pieces and hashtags and opinion wars. But there were also oceans of congratulatory messages, fan art of tiny jasmine crowned babies, trending tags celebrating “Rosie’s baby” and “Appa YN.”

At home, the baby grew.

So did the house.

—

The room that used to be a rarely used guest room on the second floor became the nursery. Over the span of a month, the white walls turned a soft pale green. A crib was assembled in the middle of the room after a three hour battle with instructions in four languages and Lisa trying to use a screwdriver as a drumstick. A mobile of little stars and clouds hung from the ceiling, each one a different pastel color, chosen half by aesthetics and half by who got to the display first.

Bookshelves appeared, filled with picture books in Korean, English, Thai, and the occasional one in French that Jisoo insisted on because “it sounds pretty, they do not have to understand it yet.”

The jasmine vines outside the nursery window bloomed early that spring, as if in anticipation.

They decided not to know the sex ahead of time.

“Too many opinions,” Jennie said, wrinkling her nose at the thought of everyone projecting pink or blue onto a person not even born yet. “She or he or will tell us when they are ready.”

Instead, they called the little life “Bean.”

Bean kicked for the first time during a quiet evening in the basement studio.

Rosé sat on the couch, feet propped on the coffee table, head resting on YN’s thigh while he absentmindedly combed his fingers through her hair. Jennie sprawled on the floor with a notebook, scribbling lines. Lisa and Jisoo were going through a folder of old demo tracks.

Rosé suddenly went still.

“Wait,” she said, eyes going wide.

Everyone looked up.

She pressed a hand to the curve of her stomach, now clearly rounded under her oversized tee.

“Bean?” Lisa asked, already half off the couch.

“There,” Rosé whispered. “Something… moved.”

She grabbed YN’s hand and pressed it to the same spot.

At first he felt nothing.

Then, faint but unmistakable, a little thump against his palm.

Like a knock from the inside.

His breath caught.

“Hello,” he said softly, words aimed at the curve of her belly. “I am your dad. We are a lot. Sorry in advance.”

Lisa laughed, then pressed her own hand in next to his, crowding.

“Let me feel, let me feel.”

Jennie crawled up onto the couch, joining the cluster, her hand layering over his.

Jisoo watched for a moment, expression melting into something that made her look very young and very old at once, then moved closer and rested her fingers on the other side.

The baby kicked again.

Louder this time.

All four women erupted into a hush of delighted sounds. Gasps, soft curses, laughter.

“You feel that?” Rosé asked, tears in her eyes.

“Yes,” YN said.

He had never believed in second chances from the universe.

But the universe, apparently, did not care what he believed.

It gave him one anyway.

When the time finally came, it was in the middle of the night in June.

The jasmine scent was heavy in the air through the open windows, the heat settled and humming. Everyone was home, for once: schedules aligned, flights delayed, a minor miracle of timing.

Rosé shook YN’s shoulder around 3 a.m.

“Hey,” she whispered, too calm, which scared him more than if she had been panicking. “I think it is happening.”

The next hours blurred into a pattern of bright moments.

—

The rush to the hospital, Lisa half dressed and hopping as she tried to get her sneakers on, a duffel bag already packed from weeks before slung over her shoulder. Jennie on the phone with the obstetrician, voice clipped and efficient. Jisoo gathering documents, ID cards, prenatal records with a precision that would have impressed any military officer.

Contractions came and went.

Rosé squeezed hands, cursed in at least three languages, laughed in between, cried once when a wave hit particularly hard and did not break as fast as she wanted.

YN stayed by her side, anchored.

He remembered Min ji’s labor in flashes. The terror of not knowing what to do. The helplessness. The way he had felt like an imposter in the room, a man who had already failed her once being given something precious.

This time, the fear did not leave, but it had company. Confidence built not only on his own growth, but on the presence of the others.

Jennie leaned over Rosé’s head, wiping her forehead with a cool cloth, whispering encouragement in her ear that somehow balanced tough and tender.

Lisa cracked terrible jokes that made the nurses snort and Rosé giggle weakly between contractions.

Jisoo watched the monitors with sharp eyes, ready to press the call button for the nurse the second she sensed anything off.

When the pushing started, the room narrowed.

There was just Rosé’s face. The doctor’s calm instructions. The white of the sheets. The sound of her breath, harsh then suddenly breaking into a raw sound when the force of it all hit.

“You are doing so well,” YN kept saying, though the words felt small compared to what she was really doing. “Almost there, Rosie. I am here. We are all here.”

He could feel Lisa’s hand on his shoulder, fingers digging in. Jennie’s hip pressed against his. Jisoo’s presence at his peripheral vision, steady and grounding.

Then there was a cry.

Not Rosé’s.

High. Thin. Then quickly stronger.

The doctor said, “Here we go,” and in a blink, the little life they had been calling Bean for months was real and loud and furious at being removed from their warm water world.

Everyone froze.

Then everything happened at once.

“Healthy,” the doctor said. “Very vocal. Congratulations. You have a daughter.”

Tears hit YN’s eyes so fast he did not even register them falling.

A daughter.

He saw Rosé’s chest rise and fall, eyes glazed with effort but already tracking the nurses as they moved, checking the baby, suctioning her nose, wrapping her in a small blanket.

Then the nurse was turning, bringing a tiny shaped bundle of white and pink closer.

“Do you want to hold her first?” she asked Rosé.

“Yes,” Rosé whispered. “Please.”

They placed the baby on Rosé’s chest.

The world stopped.

She was so small.

So impossibly, heartbreakingly small.

A little face scrunched up from the insult of being born, fists clenched, a tuft of dark hair plastered damp against her head. Her cries quieted almost instantly when she felt skin and warmth and the familiar thump of the heart she had lived beneath for months.

Rosé sobbed.

Not the pretty kind. The ugly, shaking, whole body kind.

She curled her arms around the baby carefully, shoulders shaking, whispering, “Hi, hi, hi, hi,” over and over.

YN leaned over them, one hand hovering, terrified to touch and desperate to at the same time.

Lisa was openly crying now, tears streaming down her cheeks as she bit her knuckles.

Jennie had a hand over her mouth, eyes huge, breath hiccuping.

Jisoo’s cheeks were wet, her expression soft enough to break something in him.

The nurse looked at him.

“Dad?” she said gently. “You can touch her.”

He did.

His hand, which had once thrown punches in alleyways and gripped whiskey glasses too hard, now brushed one finger along the baby’s cheek.

Her skin was softer than anything he had ever felt.

Her tiny mouth opened, rooting instinctively along Rosé’s chest.

He laughed, choked.

“Hungry,” he said. “Just like her moms.”

Later, when the baby had latched, when the initial flood of adrenaline eased and everyone had had a turn tracing a fingertip along tiny fingers, she lay in a clear plastic bassinet beside the bed, bundled like a little burrito, dark lashes fanned against her cheeks.

“She looks like you,” Lisa told Rosé.

“She looks like him,” Jennie countered, nodding at YN’s nose.

“She looks like a potato,” Jisoo said dryly, but her eyes were shining.

They named her Min seol.

Min for the woman who had planted jasmine vines and taught YN what love could look like. Seol for snow, because she had arrived on a day the weather report had sworn would be clear, bringing her own quiet storm.

The hospital released them after a couple of days.

They brought her home wrapped in a pale yellow blanket, a tiny hat with bunny ears tugged over her head. The ride up the hill in Hannam felt like the most dangerous journey YN had ever taken. He drove at exactly the speed limit, both hands white knuckled on the steering wheel, eyes flicking to the rearview mirror every other second to make sure her car seat was still, that her chest was rising and falling.

At the front door, Soo-ah waited.

She had flown back from a research workshop early, suitcase abandoned in the hallway, hair a little messy, expression a mix of excitement and something heavier.

When Lisa carried the car seat over the threshold, Soo ah’s eyes filled instantly.

“Oh my god,” she whispered. “She is… tiny.”

The baby made a small unhappy noise, face scrunching.

“That is Bean,” Lisa said proudly, then corrected herself. “I mean Min seol.”

“Can I…?” Soo-ah’s voice was nearly reverent.

Rosé nodded from the couch, exhausted but smiling.

“Wash your hands,” Jennie ordered automatically, sounding exactly like a veteran mom even though this was new to her too.

After half a minute of furious scrubbing at the sink, Soo ah came back, drying her hands on her jeans.

Lisa carefully unbuckled the straps, then lifted Min seol out, the baby’s head supported with exaggerated care, as if she were made of glass.

“Okay, new rule,” Lisa said. “No one is allowed to drop her. Ever. Or I will fight you.”

“No one is dropping her,” YN said, voice rough but amused.

He watched as his daughter, now an adult, took his new daughter, impossibly small, into her arms.

Soo-ah cradled Min seol like she had been waiting to do it her whole life.

The baby blinked, eyes unfocused, mouth making little moue shapes.

“Hi,” Soo-ah whispered. “I am your… I do not know what I am.”

“You can be whatever you want,” Jisoo said. “Sister. Auntie. Chaos coordinator.”

Soo ah laughed, tears spilling freely.

“I am your family,” she corrected softly, pressing her cheek to the top of the baby’s head. “That is enough.”

The house adjusted around the new heartbeat.

—

Days rearranged themselves into cycles of feeding, changing, burping, sleeping.

The big bed upstairs, already crowded before, became a rotating landscape of positions. Some nights it was all five of them and Min seol tucked safely in a bassinet beside the bed. Other nights one or two took shifts so the others could really sleep.

They worked out a system without ever officially sitting down to draft it.

Jennie was best in the brutal early morning hours. She had spent years on insane schedules and could function on little sleep. She would take the baby for the 3 a.m. feeds, padding softly through the hall with a bottle, humming low under her breath.

Lisa was queen of giving Rosé breaks. She would take Min seol for long walks in the baby carrier once the doctor cleared it, narrating the neighborhood to her in a mix of Thai, Korean, and English. “This is the park, Bean. This is the ajusshi who always complains about my music. This is the store that sells your favorite milk.”

Jisoo tracked everything.

She had an app on her phone where she logged feed times, diaper changes, naps. She was the one who leaned over YN’s shoulder in the middle of the night to say, “She has not pooped in eight hours, that is okay, but if we hit twelve we call the doctor.”

Rosé, when she was not half asleep with the baby draped on her chest, wrote songs in her head about the weight of tiny fingers curled into her shirt.

YN discovered he had not forgotten how to change diapers.

He also discovered that doing it at forty nine was a very different back workout than doing it at twenty seven.

“Stretch,” Lisa scolded him once, catching him rubbing the small of his back after a particularly spectacular blowout. “You have to warm up before wipe downs now, ajusshi.”

He tossed a burp cloth at her.

“You wait until you are the one wiping yellow explosions off the wall,” he said.

“Worth it,” she shot back, scooping up Min seol and blowing a raspberry on her belly. The baby responded with a delighted squeal that made everyone in the room stop and grin.

Min seol grew.

She had Rosé’s mouth, a tiny cupid’s bow that already looked made for song. She had YN’s nose, which none of them could deny when she wrinkled it in sleep. Her hair came in dark at first, then lightened a little at the ends in certain lights, a nod to no one and everyone.

At six months, she learned to roll over.

At nine months, she pulled herself up on the coffee table and looked around proudly like she had conquered a mountain.

At eleven months, she took three uncertain, wobbling steps between the couch and YN’s outstretched arms while four phones recorded from four different angles and Lisa cried louder than the baby.

“Proof,” Jennie said smugly later, replaying the videos. “She walked to him first. Daddy’s girl already.”

“She only walked because he was holding a snack,” Jisoo pointed out, but her eyes were soft.

The first time Min seol said “appa,” it was in the middle of the night.

The house was quiet. Rain tapped lightly at the windows. YN sat in the nursery rocking chair, swaying gently, Min seol drowsy against his chest after a feed. He hummed an old song under his breath, one of the ones Min ji had loved, now turned lullaby by use.

Her tiny hand patted his shirt.

“Appa,” she mumbled sleepily, not quite awake.

He froze.

Then smiled so wide his cheeks hurt.

He did not wake anyone.

He just sat there in the dim light, breathing in baby shampoo and jasmine from the open window, and let tears roll warm and grateful down his face.

They did not stop at one child.

Life was good.

Busy. Messy. Loud in a way that made the old silence feel like it had belonged to someone else’s house entirely.

A year and a half after Min seol was born, on a bright afternoon in spring, with the jasmine just beginning to bud, Jennie walked into the kitchen holding another stick with two bold lines.

She did not say anything at first.

She just set it on the kitchen island in front of YN, who was in the middle of chopping vegetables for dinner, and raised an eyebrow.

He stared.

Then looked up.

Her eyes were alight, nervous and fierce.

“You ready to do this again?” she asked. “With me this time?”

He laughed, a little helplessly.

“Yes,” he said. “Yes. Always yes.”

She did not cry.

Jennie rarely cried where others could see.

Instead she stepped around the island, grabbed him by the collar, and kissed him until the knife on the cutting board was the last thing on his mind.

Lisa walked in ten seconds later, saw the test, screamed so loud Min seol, in the living room, started laughing just because everyone else was loud.

This time the conversations with managers were shorter.

The public had already adjusted in their own messy, opinionated way to the idea that Blackpink had a collective domestic life that did not fit the idol mold. Contracts had been renegotiated. Boundaries had been drawn.

“What are they going to do?” Jennie had shrugged. “Tell me I cannot be happy?”

No one tried.

—

Jennie’s pregnancy was different from Rosé’s.

Where Rosé had been a mix of dreamy and anxious, Jennie was laser focused. She read every article she could find. She argued politely with the obstetrician about specific tests and procedures. She organized her schedule with ruthless efficiency, carving out protected blocks of rest no one was allowed to infringe upon.

She trained through her second trimester with care, listening to her body. She sent YN annoyed texts when strangers on the internet commented on her weight gain.

He replied every time with a photo of a heart shaped post it note he stuck somewhere in the house with the words Perfect written on it.

At seven months, late one night, she lay on the couch with her feet in his lap, phone abandoned, both hands cradling her belly.

“It is different when it is me,” she admitted, voice quiet. “I thought I understood when Rosie was pregnant. But feeling it… I get it now. The fear. The… bigness of it.”

He massaged her feet gently, thumbs pressing into familiar knots.

“I know,” he said. “But you also have more tools than we did then. More support. You chose this. That makes a difference.”

She was silent for a while.

Then, almost too soft to hear:

“Promise me something.”

“Anything.”

“If I ever start to feel like this is… too much. Like I am drowning. Tell me. Make me talk about it. Do not let me disappear behind being ‘strong.’”

He set her foot down carefully, leaned over, and kissed the smooth curve of her stomach.

“I promise,” he said into her skin.

Their son arrived on a stormy night in October.

Thunder rolled over the hill. Rain lashed against the windows.

In the delivery room, Jennie gripped the rails of the bed, hair plastered to her forehead, eyes blazing between contractions.

“I hate you a little right now,” she hissed at YN at one point, then immediately shook her head. “No, I do not, I love you, I am sorry, do not leave.”

“I am not going anywhere,” he said, voice thick with emotion and something like awe.

Lisa paced.

Rosé stroked Jennie’s hair between pushes, murmuring encouragements.

Jisoo, as always, watched the monitors like they were sacred texts.

When their son’s cries finally split the air, deeper and more indignant than his sister’s had been, Jennie’s face crumpled.

They laid him on her chest.

He was smaller than Min seol had been, but every bit as loud. His hair was even darker, his brows already faintly knit like he had inherited his mother’s seriousness.

“Hey,” she whispered, one hand cupping the back of his tiny head. “Hi, baby. It is me. I am your mom. I am not going to let anything hurt you if I can help it. I am a lot. But I am yours.”

She named him Haneul.

Sky.

She wanted him to know there was always space for him. That even when things felt small and closed in, there was always something wider above.

Home with two babies was a different level of chaos.

The house somehow absorbed it.

Toys multiplied like rabbits. Little shoes lined up next to bigger ones at the door. The living room rug became a rotating stage for block towers, picture books, and impromptu dance performances to children’s songs that Lisa swore were secretly bangers.

Soo-ah, now deep into her postgraduate work, split her time between the lab, the library, and the house.

—

One evening, she stood in the doorway of the living room and watched as Min seol, now three, carefully “read” a picture book to Haneul, who sat beside her on the floor, chubby hands occasionally grabbing at the pages. Rosé sat on the couch nearby, answering Min seol’s questions about the story. Jisoo folded tiny socks into pairs on the coffee table. Lisa and Jennie were in the middle of a very intense debate about which baby carrier design was coolest.

YN walked in from the kitchen with a tray of cut fruit and yogurt cups, set it down, kissed Rosé’s temple in passing, ruffled Haneul’s soft hair, and scooped Min seol up for a spin that made her shriek with laughter.

Soo ah smiled, the expression softer and more settled than in her college days.

The house was louder than it had ever been.

It had never felt more like home.

Years unfolded.

They did not have a third child right away.

Careers shifted. The group officially stepped back from relentless idol activity, moving into a new era where they chose their projects with care. Solos, acting, production work, brand partnerships that aligned with who they were now, not who they had been sold as at nineteen.

They talked, often and honestly, about whether to grow their family more.

“Two is a good number,” Jisoo said once, sipping tea at the kitchen table while Haneul napped and Min seol watched cartoons in the other room. “One for each hand.”

Jennie nodded thoughtfully. “I do not want to stretch us too thin. Emotionally, physically… career wise. But also…” She looked at the stairs where the faint sound of little feet could be heard. “I never thought I would want more than this. And sometimes I look at them and think, how can I not want another.”

Lisa was unequivocal.

“More babies,” she said. “I would carry if we could figure out all the logistics without killing my old injuries. I love them. I want a whole soccer team.”

Rosé laughed, stirring sugar into her tea. “You just want someone to share your terrible taste in cartoons.”

In the end, it was Jisoo who came back from a routine check up one day with a stunned look on her face and a stack of pamphlets in her bag.

They had not been actively trying.

They also had not been avoiding.

Life, apparently, had its own timeline.

She sat them down in the living room, hands folded in her lap.

“I am pregnant,” she said simply.

They all stared.

“You?” Lisa squeaked, then clapped a hand over her mouth. “I mean, yes, obviously you, but… you.”

Jisoo’s lips quirked.

“Yes, me,” she said. “The one who was not sure she wanted to do this. The one who thought she was too tired. Joke is on me.”

Her eyes softened.

“Joke is also on me because I am… very happy.”

The third pregnancy threaded itself into the fabric of their now much larger life.

This time, the older kids were old enough to be aware.

Min seol, now five and serious about certain things, took to “helping” Jisoo in small but earnest ways.

She would fetch pillows for her back when they watched movies.

She would carefully place her favorite stuffed bunny on Jisoo’s lap “so the baby is not lonely.”

Haneul, three and a whirl of energy, would randomly pat Jisoo’s belly and announce to anyone listening, “Baby is in there,” like he had discovered something new each time.

“Do you want a brother or a sister?” Lisa asked him once.

“Yes,” he said confidently.

They laughed.

“Fair answer,” YN said, scooping him up under his arms.

They turned one of the extra rooms into another nursery, this time with walls painted a warm soft yellow, tiny glow in the dark stars stuck to the ceiling by four adults who argued over exact placement for an hour.

—

Labor was shorter this time.

She moved through it with the same calm she brought to everything, but there were moments when her composure cracked and they saw the rawness beneath. She did not hide it.

“Talk to me,” YN said at one point, brushing damp hair from her face.

“I am scared,” she said, voice shaking. “Not of… this. Of after. Of giving too much of myself away again. Of disappearing into a role.”

He took her hand, squeezed.

“We will not let you,” he said. “You have us now. We know you too well.”

She believed him.

When their second daughter slid into the world, crying with a voice that sounded like a high note at the edge of breaking, they all laughed through their tears.

She was named Hana.

Not because she was first – she was third – but because she was, in some ways, the beginning of a new chapter. Also because she had been conceived after a night of too much soju and karaoke where they had butchered some old one hit wonder with that word in the chorus until they cried laughing.

Hana grew up in a house full of music, jasmine and noise.

By the time she was old enough to walk, the jasmine vines had been trimmed back and trained into a sort of canopy over the back patio, flowers spilling down in the spring like a curtain.

Three small figures could often be seen playing underneath.

Min seol, eight, long legs already giving hints of future stage presence, practicing little dances while humming half finished songs.

Haneul, six, more introspective, sitting cross legged with building blocks, constructing elaborate structures that he knocked down with equal enthusiasm.

Hana, two, toddling after them, hair in tiny pigtails, a determination in her steps that made everyone joke she was the secret boss.

On one such afternoon, YN sat on the steps leading down to the lawn, watching them.

Beside him, Jennie leaned her head on his shoulder, sunglasses perched on her nose, a coffee in hand.

Lisa lounged on the grass, scrolling through her phone, occasionally calling out, “No, no, Seolie, like this,” and demonstrating a ridiculous move that made Hana clap and try to copy.

Rosé sat cross legged close by, guitar in her lap, fingers moving lazily over the strings as she worked out a lullaby for Hana she pretended was just a melody.

Jisoo came out from the kitchen, two cups of tea in her hands, and handed one to YN before sitting on his other side.

They were older now.

You could see it in the faint lines around their eyes, in the way they sighed when they sat down after a long day.

But you could also see it in their ease.

In the way they reached for each other without thinking.

In the way their shoulders fit together like puzzle pieces that had found their correct positions.

“You know,” Jennie said, watching Min seol twirl, “if she ever wants to be on stage, we are in so much trouble.”

“She will have four stage moms,” Lisa agreed. “I will be the cool one though.”

“You will be the one crying in the front row with glitter all over your face,” Rosé said absently, still picking at the guitar.

“Yes,” Lisa said proudly.

Jisoo smiled into her tea.

“And Haneul will direct music videos for all of them,” she predicted. “He has that look.”

“He has your focus,” YN said.

“And your seriousness,” Jennie added.

“And Rosie’s stubbornness,” Lisa threw in.

“And Soo ah’s brain,” Rosé said.

They all went quiet for a second, realizing the truth of that.

Soo-ah visited often, even though her work now took her abroad for months at a time, part of a research team that hopped between universities and field sites. She always came home with small gifts from wherever she had been. A tiny wooden toy from Switzerland. A snow globe from Canada. Stickers from Tokyo.

On one of those trips home, she sat with YN on the balcony off the bedroom, mugs of tea warming their hands, the muffled sounds of the kids downstairs drifting up through the open windows.

“How is it,” she asked, looking at him out of the corner of her eye, “being the patriarch of this circus?”

He laughed.

“Tiring,” he admitted. “Loud. Messy. Perfect.”

She smiled.

“I used to be scared,” she said. “When I was a teenager. That you would be alone when I left. That I would start my own life somewhere else and you would just… fade into the background of your own.”

He turned to look at her.

“What changed?” he asked.

She nodded toward the yard, where through the branches of the jasmine trellis they could see four women and three kids in varying degrees of motion and noise.

“I realized you built something so big and full it could never fade,” she said simply. “Even when we are all gone at work or on tour or whatever, the echo of us will still be in these walls.”

He swallowed.

“Thank you,” he said quietly. “For… all of it. For bringing them. For… giving me permission to be happy again.”

She shrugged, a little embarrassed.

“Thank them,” she said. “They did most of the work. I just opened the door.”

He did, in little ways.

Thanked them by making sure the fridge was always stocked with their favorites. By learning how to braid hair three different ways because no stylist was allowed near his daughters’ heads with too much product. By staying up late in the studio with Haneul when he got older and wanted to experiment with beats. By listening to Min seol’s first shaky guitar chords as if he were at a stadium concert. By carrying Hana up the stairs when she fell asleep in the middle of a movie night, her head on his chest, small arms around his neck.

The years put more silver in his hair.

Lines deepened around his eyes, carved there now as much by laughter as by old sorrow.

The girls changed too.

They were not girls anymore.

They were women.

Mothers. Artists. Partners. Sometimes tired. Sometimes radiant. Sometimes both at once.

They had bad days.

Fights. Misunderstandings. Slammed doors.

There were nights when someone slept in the guest room to have space.

There were mornings when they all spoke in clipped tones until coffee and apologies smoothed things out.

But the house, the family, bent.

It did not break.

—

One late summer evening, years after that first chaotic group dinner all together, the house was quiet in a way it had not been for a while.

The kids were at Soo ah’s apartment for a sleepover, a treat they had demanded with the seriousness of a board meeting.

“We will build a fort and eat sweets and you are not invited,” Hana had told them solemnly, pointing at each adult in turn.

“Traitor,” Lisa had said, but kissed her cheek three times at the door anyway.

So now it was just the five of them.

Empty house.

No schedules.

No baby monitor on the nightstand.

They sat in the backyard under the jasmine trellis, which was now thick and lush, white blossoms glowing in the dusk.

A bottle of wine sat open on the table. Glasses half full.

The air was warm, the kind of heavy that made everything feel slowed down, softened.

“You realize,” Jennie said, stretching her legs out and wiggling her toes, “we did it.”

“Do not jinx it,” Lisa said immediately. “There is still time for someone to set something on fire.”

“Lisa,” Jisoo said.

“I meant metaphorically,” she defended. Then paused. “Mostly.”

Rosé tilted her head back, looking up through the jasmine at the darkening sky.

“We did not follow any rules,” she said. “And somehow… it worked.”

“No,” YN said quietly. “We followed the ones that mattered. Talk when it hurts. Listen. Apologize for real. Stay. Those rules work anywhere.”

Rosé smiled, eyes shining in the low light.

“That too,” she agreed.

He looked at them.

At the way the light caught on Jennie’s profile, softer than the girl who had once hidden behind sunglasses and sarcasm. At Lisa’s hands, calloused from dance and baby lifting and building kids’ furniture. At Jisoo’s eyes, more peaceful now, the old constant tension eased. At Rosé’s hair, a little shorter than before, falling over her shoulder as she laughed.

They looked back.

He realized, suddenly, that he was not thinking about his past mistakes.

He was not waiting for the universe to punish him.

He was here.

Present.

Loved.

“Thank you,” he said, voice low. The same words he had said into the dark that first wedding night, now worn in by use. “For this life. For our kids. For… putting up with me.”

“Always so dramatic,” Jennie said, but there was affection in every syllable. She reached over and took his hand, lacing their fingers.

Lisa leaned her head on his other shoulder, hair tickling his neck.

“You put up with us too,” she said. “We are a handful.”

“A sexy handful,” Rosé added.

“Four,” Jisoo corrected. “Sexy handfuls. And three small ones. Seven handfuls.”

He laughed, head tipping back.

For a moment he saw it all at once.

The house as it had been. As it was. As it would be.

He saw the jasmine vines climbing and being cut back, blooming and resting in cycles.

He saw little shoes growing bigger, then being replaced with bigger ones again.

He saw the downstairs walls with scuff marks at exactly the heights of his kids as they grew.

He saw old tour posters fading slightly from the sunlight.

He saw himself at sixty, perhaps, sitting in the same spot under the same trellis, watching teenagers crash through the backyard in a swirl of limbs and laughter, some of them carrying echoes of the four women beside him in their faces.

He did not know exactly what would come.

But he knew this.

Whatever it was, they would face it together.

He squeezed their hands.

“Come on,” he said softly after a while. “The house is too quiet. Let us go make a little noise before the kids come back and show us how it is really done.”

They went inside, laughter floating ahead of them through the open door.

The jasmine swayed in the night breeze.

One man.

Four women.

Three kids.

One home.

The house on the hill in Hannam dong still smelled faintly of jasmine some nights.

Now, it also smelled of crayons, spilled juice, coffee, warm rice, and the particular scent of shampoo left in small damp footprints down the hall.

It was full.

It was messy.

It was theirs.

And as the years rolled on, that never changed.

—

Your heart pounds in your chest as the Lady Aria, one of your mother's favored handmaidens, leads you back from the refined afternoon room to your chambers, with three more handmaidens and several servants trailing behind. Her heart-shaped face remaining in its usual morose expression beneath the elegant piles of her long black hair bound into a headpiece, glancing at you intently while she glides along. You had suspected that your mother was sending out discrete inquiries for some time now to find you a suitable first consort, but evidently the incident with the serving girl behind the garden shed had forced her hand. You had chanced upon her while wandering one of the lavish gardens that dotted the expansive palace complex that was the Harem, her simple tunic having opened while she was leaning down to prune some plants. Naturally you had been enthralled by the sight of her bared breasts, and the desire that coursed through you so often these days had surged to the fore, causing you to stop and stare like some peasant entering the Palace for the Winter Feast. Your interests plain, the serving girl had shyly started untying the sash holding up her skirt, no doubt more than willing to allow a Prince of the Blood to spend himself inside of her; which you would have if one of your mother's handmaidens not wandered closer to see what her charge was gawping it.

You had managed to convince your furious mother to not execute the girl, though she had given you a thorough tongue-lashing about spilling your blessed seed in some lowborn scum, and since then her eyes had been upon you. Of course, having at least one gorgeously attired and well-bred lady of the court paying close attention to you at all times had done little to stem your burgeoning lust, especially when they would often allow their sumptuous robes to open a touch more than they ordinarily would; as a kindness to you, their beloved Lady Consort's only son. Indeed, Lady Aria's expansive bosom was on full display as she glides alongside you, a distracting expanse of wobbling flesh that... beguiles, the eye. Ahem.

Traditionally, a noblewoman would have dealt with these events with a sure hand, and not wanting her son to have his manhood besmirched by some filthy commoner's hole, would have dispatched one of her most trusted handmaidens instead. After blessing the chosen lady with a kiss upon both of her lips, and garbing her in the most sumptuous and arousing robes, the noblewoman would send her to her son's chambers. Once there, the handmaiden would seduce her young son, her method varying upon the circumstance, but the end result would be by the end of the night, the son would spend himself inside of a womanhood worthy of his station; having entered manhood guided by a lady of acceptable breeding. Often the handmaiden would continue to stay with the young nobleman, becoming the seed of his growing household, serving as a vital link between the son and the mother as the former naturally grows independent of the latter and establishes his own orbit of followers.

Your own mother however, was going a step further, a lady of great pride and hauteur even amongst a Court renowned for for its arrogance, she was insisting upon a further concession towards your, and the for her, station. Not for you the warm, yet guided embrace of one of your mother's closest confidants, a woman who had helped raise you and knew your every strength and weakness, instead she sought out for you a virgin of sufficient station to receive your initiatory load. A noble lady unsullied by the endowments of other men, a patrician girl to welcome you into manhood, one well-bred enough to serve as your consort, should she be satisfactory enough. All of which you knew because you mother had spend the last year pounding it into your head that it was the way things were going to happen, because things always went the way she wanted them to. She had even, in a moment of rare vulgarity, told you that, "I would rather have you fuck the dirt than dirty yourself in some common whore's cunt," which settled things nicely.

These thoughts are on your mind as you wind your way through the corridors of the Harem complex back to your bedchambers, your eyes unable to stop sliding down Lady Aria's cleavage even while your mind wanders. You are smart enough to wait until you are safely back inside of your own rooms before asking Aria what she knew about your prospective consort, the pair of you settling onto comfortable cushions by in front of a tea table while the servants fetch you refreshments and the other handmaidens arrange themselves around you. The Harem was an absolute den of gossip, and you doubt your mother would be pleased if word leaked out too soon about who her choice would be. Lady Aria waits until the tea is brought to you, and one of the handmaidens languidly serves you both, before commenting, "From what the Lady Consort has allowed me to tell you... she is a girl of moderate breeding, of great beauty, and is gracefully enough to serve you as your consort," which hardly sounded acidic enough to have come from your mother.

"What did my mother actually say?" you ask, trying to maintain the air of chilly interest that your mother always held, her back as rigid as a spear while her eyes bored daggers in whoever was speaking. Lady Aria gives a slight grimace for your efforts, "She said Lady Janet was fertile, none-too intelligent, old enough to not make things awkward, and would serve well as an ornament of your House. Pretty, but silent," now that sounded more like mother. You sigh, which makes the surrounding handmaidens smile endearingly, "So is she beautiful then?" Aria adjusts herself minutely, which allows you an even greater view down the soft expanse of her bodice, revealing the slightest tinge of dark flesh where the areola begins, and cocks her head thoughtfully, "She is attractive, I am told," she concedes, "we are meeting her tomorrow, so you can decide when you see her," tactfully ignoring the fact that your gaze had gone from steely to staring down her chest. As much as she protested disinterest in the idea, Lady Aria did seem to have a penchant for boldly showing her voluptuous body off for you, her Lady Consort's precious child.

The rest of the day passed by with agonizing slowness, as you waited for the next day to dawn so that you might meet the woman who would be claiming your virginity. Your mother's handmaidens entertained you with games and readings, and even graced you with a dance that trod breathtakingly close to salaciousness, which ended up producing a bit of a wet spot on your crotch. A sight which set the noblewomen aflutter, bashfully glancing at the evidence of your virility while sternly rebuking a poor serving girl for spilling water upon the noble scion of this House. And when they helped you change into more formal robes for dinner, since servants could not be trusted to restrain themselves, they cooed and sighed at the sight of your rigid erection, shyly loosening their own robes to coax you to your fullest extent. Lady Aria even gracefully leans forward on one foot to pick up an article of discarded clothing, which produces a fresh shudder of excitement from you, as well as a spurt of fluid from your rosy tip. A sight which produces fresh murmurs of appreciation from your mother's handmaidens before they order a servant to clean up the mess.

After getting you dressed and all tidied up, Lady Aria gathers up the other handmaidens and servants, and once more leads her little caravan back out into the hallways of your mother's palace proper. Slippers slap quietly against the smooth floorboards as your party winds its way through the corridors, passing by a wide array of chambers and gardens that make up this portion of the Harem Palace, teeming with female servants who bow obeisantly as you pass by. Many of them make sure to cover their chests whilst bowing, lest they incur the handmaidens' wrath for tempting your youthful passions with their ignoble bodices; common flesh was undeserving of your noble gaze, let alone your affections. You remain silent as you wind your way into one of the more modest dining chambers in your mother's palace, the one decorated in azure with white lotus printings painted upon the walls; sure evidence that your mother wished for a more intimate gathering.

Servants lower their heads as they open the tastefully carved doors to the chamber, and you sweep into the room with Lady Aria at your side. Your lady mother was already seated and awaiting your arrival at the head of the U-shaped table that dominated the center of the room, her more close handmaidens arrayed about it like bouquets of flowers. The Fifth Lady Consort glances at you, garbed in a luxurious robe and with ample makeup applied, she indicates you should take your regular place on her left, which had been left open for you and Lady Aria, while the other handmaidens filter in amongst the others. Your mother scrutinizes your appearance, before sniffing slightly, "You reek of desire, child," and ignores your flushed cheeks before clapping her hands to signal to the waiting servants to bring in the meal. You sit erect on your cushion with the rest of the noble ladies while the attendants file in bearing bowls and platters of food, and ceramic gourds of drink, waiting patiently until the entire meal has been laid out. Only once your mother sniffs in resigned acceptance do the poison-testers step forward to try each of the steaming dishes, and after many drips of the water clock, the food is declared to be safe to eat.

Your mother claps once more, and the servants file out, the last one bowing at the waist before pulling the doors shut behind her, and the meal can begin at last. Delicate arms languidly glide from beneath long, embroidered sleeves to scoop out portions of stewed meat and vegetables, nimble hands pour out measures of wine into cups, all amidst a constant murmur of hushed conversation. Your mother picks daintily at her own bowl of food, quietly watching as you devour your own heaping portion, "I see anxiety has not dulled your appetite then," she notes drily over the soft susurrations of gossip, and you pause to finish chewing to answer her, "No, Mother. But I am-" "Worried?" your mother cuts you off, "As you should be, if Lady Janet is pleasing to me, then you shall bed her tomorrow evening. Your lusts are driving you to impatience." "Impatience is indeed unwise, my lady," Lady Aria muses while idly picking the carrots out of your bowl, you loath carrots, and your mother looks at her, her eyes narrowing,

"You object?" your mother breathes softly, and Lady Aria returns her stare morosely, "It is too soon, he is still-" "Young enough to lay with a woman of gentle birth," the Lady Consort interjects, "He must be taught how to behave like a man, learn the duties of his bedchamber," she continues, before gracefully placing another morsel of simmering meat in her mouth, and allowing Aria to voice her concerns, "But to do so with a consort, it will signal..." Aria glances briefly at you, her eyes brightening slightly, "...A marriage this early, without instruction..." Your mother swallows, "They will overlook its meaning," she gestures to herself, "I am a renowned prude, it is only natural that I would wish for my darling boy to enter manhood in such a manner. The true import of the match will be lost on many, so why worry? And when her belly swells with child, they will simply smirk and titter at his youthful exuberance." At which she nods at you, as if your rampant impregnation spree was all but assured. Which in all fairness, it likely was.

Lady Aria sighs, conceding the point, "But he is untrained, if he disappoints in the bedroom, then it would be damaging to his, to our, reputations..." Your mother cocks her head minutely, eyes flickering between you and Aria, before the porcelain mask of her face crinkles in vague amusement, "I slight you, Lady Aria," "You do, my lady," she responds, bowing her head in acknowledgment. The Lady Consort pauses, musing for several heartbeats, before her ruby lips part once more, "Traditionally," she begins, "mine would be the first womanhood he gazes upon, to learn of its secrets and its function, but..." your mother tilts her head affectionately, her ornate headdress tinkling faintly, "...it would not be undue for one of my handmaidens to have that honor," the other handmaidens quiet and spread fans or raise their hands to conceal their expressions, their traced eyes coolly staring at their mistress. Lady Aria blinks, and a smile threatens to spread over her painted face as she bows more deeply this time, "Should my lady offer it, then it would humble me to accept," she says politely, and the general chatter resumes once more, a touch more intense than before.

The matter satisfied, your mother returns to her meal, which indicates that you should do the same as well, and you continue to shovel food into your mouth while your mind whirls. It would not do to ask your mother for clarification, if she wished for you to know, she would have told you, so instead you must wait patiently while your mind whirls through the implications of what was just said. Obviously you are excited to discover more of Lady Aria's voluptuous body, but your impure thoughts were making it difficult to consider what exactly the pair of noble ladies had been discussing before that. So you sit silently as you usually do, observing and absorbing the courtly gossip that flows freely around you; the Third Consort's son was ill, the Seventh was pregnant, one of your mother's lesser handmaidens had been caught between two men, the First Consort had received a dress made of pure gold... then Lady Aria leans forward slightly to pluck yet another rondelle of carrot from your bowl, no doubt intentionally giving you a splendid view of her cleavage, and you notice odd bulges in the fabric of her robe that covers her breasts. Curious.

Once your mother was finished with her portion, she waits regally while you finish your own larger one, before clapping her hands to signal to the servants waiting outside the chamber to clear the dishes. Again, you sit motionless amongst the beautiful ladies while the humble attendants remove the serving-ware, until the door slides shut and your mother looks directly at you. Ordinarily this was when she would dismiss you to your bedchambers, while she enjoys the rest of her night with her handmaidens, gossiping and lavishing tender touches upon one another, but instead she orders you to stay, "Move yourself back several paces," your mother instructs you, as she waves several of her handmaidens forward. Two place themselves beside you, while the other three array themselves behind Lady Aria, who turns to face you, her flush showing through her makeup. Your mother nods with approval, "Excellent, now pay attention, this, is a woman."

Your heart pounds as Lady Aria languidly leans back against her fellow handmaidens, who gracefully undo the sash keeping her robes wrapped around her, before pulling them open with bright smiles to reveal Aria's body. It would be indecorous to say that you gawped at the sight of Lady Aria's curvaceous form, but it would be accurate, and your mother seemed to approve of your reaction. Her weighty breasts sag down her chest, each of them graced with a nub of brown flesh that wrinkles the paler skin around it, and her bared stomach was soft and fertile. Then further down a thicket of black hair heralded what could only be her vagina, blessed with a riot of greyish folds that seem to ripple beneath her protective layer of down. After giving you many drops of the water clock to stare gormlessly at Aria's aristocratic body, the handmaidens flanking her slide their delicate hands down her crotch to bury them in the roots of her pubic hair, before opening her womanhood like flower to reveal the shockingly pink interior.

Your lady mother glances discretely at your groin, and allows a faint crinkle of approval to pass across her lips before she gestures you closer. You comply, your eyes dancing between the Lady Aria's moist font, her heaving breasts, her flushed and inviting face, your excitement building up inside of you until it feels as if you were going to burst. Your mother tuts, "Control your lust, you will have time enough to slake yourself, for now, pay attention," and with that she guides you through exactly how she wants you to comport yourself during your first time. The Lady Consort indicates several times where your manhood would be placed, advises exactly where you should touch your partner to generate sufficient lubrication, and gives some frank instructions regarding your behavior during coupling; all of which you do your best to remember while staring at an increasingly wet patch of pink flesh. Your mother sighs when she notices you have once more forgotten to acknowledge her latest point, "Oh, very well," she looks at you clinically, "Lady Janet knows you lack experience, but take care to not fail too spectacularly, I will not suffer the indignity of having your first load staining the floor rather than her insides, understood? Good. You are dismissed."

After that, the handmaidens assist Lady Aria in clothing herself once more, though she was not the one to accompany you back to your room, no doubt your mother worried you would be unable to resist the temptation of taking her in the privacy of your bedchambers. And Aria does give you an oddly intense look as you depart, indecently so one might say. Lanterns are being lit and hung from iron hooks by servants as you make your way back to your chambers, to allow the handmaidens to enjoy themselves amongst the gardens, or to safely guide the divine Emperor should he decide to grace the harem of one of his consorts. You have not seen him in person for several years, which is understandable considering the number of sons he has, let alone daughters; even if only the sons of the Seven Consorts mattered. Seven Consorts, for each of the Seven Sighs of Pleasure. You wonder which of them Janet is skilled in, and those musings occupy you until you are returned to your chambers.

The next morning after a restless night you find yourself awake with someone in your bedchambers. You feign sleep, but crack your eye enough to distinguish that it was Lady Aria, standing before your bed, staring morosely down at you. You knew then that she could tell you are awake, but says nothing. The two of you remain silent, simply looking at one another. Many heartbeats later Aria formally awakens you for your day, and neither of you speak about what occurred.

Fanfare fills the open courtyard of Fifth Consort's Palace as Lady Janet's entourage slowly winds its way through the Harem's ceremonial gateway. Like most of the Harem residences, your mother's court was a palace unto itself, walled off from the other Consorts' estates and outer buildings that filled the Harem proper. A keen observer might also spot that the supposedly decadent gates were in fact several inches thick and bounded by iron studs; while open warfare between Consorts was highly discouraged, it was unfortunately not an impossibility. The reinforced portal opens onto an expanse of polished flagstones, with sturdy stone pillars forming a defensible processional that leads towards the main structure of your mother's palace. Marble steps lead up to a covered entryway, upon which the Fifth Consort's party awaits their honored guests, all of her household bedecked in their most sublime finery. They were gorgeous enough to make a eunuch faint, had there been around following their purge several years before for excessive scheming. And yes, there is a discernable limit for scheming.

Lady Janet's party is no less ornamented, with her and her own mother proceeding beneath a light awning of vibrant red silk that matched their robes, their hair looped into intricate knots through elegant headpieces. You have your first glimpse of the woman who was to become your consort then, advancing behind an adorned fan that hid much of her features, ritualistically preserving her purity until she was before her prospective partner. Behind them come a cascade of noble ladies in a rainbow array of colors, their sumptuous robes practically dripping with precious metals and jewels. With glacial grace, the parade of beauteous women glide up the low, stone steps onto the wide platform, where your mother's bejeweled cohort awaits them with upraised chins and outthrust chests. Lady Janet's mother, whose name you knew but slid like oil across your mind, stares forcefully at your own mother, both noblewomen of excellent pedigree, though your own matriarch was of higher standing due to her closeness to the center of Court. Then with studied deference she bows her head, and is followed by the rest of her entourage, while your mother's party returns the honor, with infinitesimally less lowering involved.

You naturally bow as well, your heart hammering in your chest with excitement, and with the initial formalities dispensed with, your mother nods her head towards her counterpart, "Would you care to join us in a more comfortable setting, my lady?" she inquires courteously, and the other woman shrugs dismissively, "Oh, only if it would not inconvenience you, my lady," Janet's mother frets politely, and after further gracious insistences and courteous refusals, the interregnum formalities are similarly dispensed with, and everyone can finally make their way inside and out of the chill of early Spring. With practiced fluidity, the two groups of women flow together as your mother leads Janet's into the main hall of her estate, with you and your prospective consort kept tastefully apart with the formal negotiations yet to unfold. A gilded river of well-bred ladies and their servants pour into the cavernous chamber, tables and seating arrangements tactfully already set for the horde of nobility sorting themselves into it. While the majority of the handmaidens and servants distributed themselves according to station and favor, the matriarchs and their immediate companions occupy a slightly raised dais, that is soon politely covered by thin screens. Negotiations can be delicate after all, and require some privacy while the households chatter and gossip.

You all settle in across a dark wooden table, while one of your mother's handmaidens smoothly pours tea into ten cups for everyone seated, gracefully spilling not a single drop. You are seated at the edge of the table, with Lady Aria to your left, followed by another handmaiden and then your mother, with the lady currently serving rounding out that end of things. Meanwhile Lady Janet sits next to her mother, both of whom are ensconced between their own ladies-in-waiting, and it is only once tea has been served and deemed agreeable does your prospective first lover shyly lower her scarlet fan for your appraisal. She was, naturally, absolutely ravishing. Her heart-shaped face was delicately adorned with the finest of powders, augmenting her natural blush from anticipation, and was daintily obscured by all manner of fertility and purity charms dangling from her gilded headpiece. Janet's flowing robes obscure the details of her body, but her shoulders are temptatiously left bare, and she smiles slightly as she notices your blatant appraisal. She did not appear frothing with excitement, but nor did she seem entirely disappointed by you.

Your mother notes this silent exchange with her usual detached demeanor, before giving a slight nod to indicate she had noticed your approval before speaking, "Her purity?" she inquires of her counterpart, asking in your stead as you are still under her household "Unimpeachable," Janet's mother responds in kind, "Will she deign to submit to inspection?" "Of course, does your progeny suffer from any diseases of the genitals?" "He does not, and you may inspect it to see as much, his penis is untainted by use," "Satisfactory, I imagine he has not received training in any of the Triad?" "He has not, though his learning shall commence once his seed has been spilt inside of a... proper woman," "Understandable, youth can be difficult to stop from going the full course," "As I am sure you know..." Janet's mother laughs softly at this, snapping her fan in front of her face, but does little to obscure the mirth in her eyes, "Has your boy any questions of his own? I see him already undressing my daughter with his eyes..."

You and Janet both flush, having so far remained silent throughout this discussion, awkwardly glancing at one another in shared misery, but now you finally move to interact with her. You scratch at Lady Aria's thigh, who promptly snaps her fan up to cover the lower half of your face while you lean over to whisper in her ear. She gives you a knowing smile, before snapping her fan close and turning to the handmaiden on her right, and repeating the process. By this discrete if flamboyant method your question was relayed to the Fifth Consort, whose lip curls indulgently before she asks of her counterpart, "My son wishes to know of which of the Seven Sighs your daughter is proficient in," to which Janet's mother smirks, "Of course he does," she brushes a hand gently against her daughter's shoulder, "it's a wonder boys his age think of anything else... I can assure you that Lady Janet is skilled in the Hand and Mouth, as well as the Feet," Janet's mother looks coy, "Naturally she is mostly untrained in the use of her flower, as well as her anus, since we knew a noble lady such as yourself would wish her to arrive completely unsullied," "Indeed I would, there are few who would take such an aspect into consideration these days," your mother sighs, "we thank you for your foresight and chastity,"

Lady Janet's blush only showed the barest increase in color while her mother freely spoke of her sexual abilities, and why would she, since the Seven Sighs were the basis of court life and romance? The primary three which any lady of breeding must know to even consider herself cultured were the Sighs of the Mouth, Hands, and Vagina, with the four others of the Anus, Breasts, Feet, and Thighs being considered worthy of civilized attention as well. Of course there were darker Sighs as well, since the pursuit of pleasure was a nebulous thing indeed, ranging from the particular such as the Armpit or the Stomach, to the more depraved such as the Knife or Abuse. The divine Emperor's Seven Consorts were expected to each be an exemplar of one of the Sighs, though as time passed it was not uncommon for some of them to adopt one of the darker Pleasures as their signature. Your own mother, for instance, was widely known for the Sigh of the False-Dong, while the Second Consort was famed for her vaginal arts, which does much to explain the staggering number of progeny she has disgorged from between her thighs.

It was all part of the journey of wooing a noblewoman that such carnal secrets would be slowly teased out of her, a process that was as salacious as it was informational. To ask a lady so bluntly was seen as crass and boorish, evidence of a poor upbringing, clear signs that the man's mother had failed catastrophically in her motherly duties whilst rearing him. That you are able to do so now without fear of displeasure was purely due to your virginal status, as well as the formality in which this discussion was taking place, in any other setting you would have been heaped with open scorn. Some candidness was required when welcoming a boy into manhood after all.

Janet's mother gives you a speculatively glance, "I take it you find my child to be acceptable as the prince's first consort then?" Your mother glances at you as if obtaining your assent, as if you had any true choice in the matter, but you still go through the pantomime of giving your assent via discrete whisper. With a nod, your mother heeds your imaginary advice, and says, "My son and I are in agreement on this matter, we would be honored to take Lady Janet as his first consort." Smiles break out all around the table, though only you and your mother would be able to tell how strained Lady Aria's grin was, and the other side of the table bows in gratitude at the honor they are receiving. With a clap of her hands, your mother summons servants to move aside the screens obscuring the high table from the rest of the room, and you behold a sea of painted faces watching you expectantly. The murmur of speculation dies down as the Fifth Consort raises a hand for silence, "My beloved son," she announces drily, "Is to be bedded!" and the crowd erupts in applause and shrill cheers.

In the Northern Regions of the Empire you would have been forced to mount Lady Janet then and there, taking her from behind like the horse-loving savages the Northern Army so often fought against. In the chaotic eastern States across the writhing seas, you both would have made love upon the hard floor in utter darkness, to preserve both of your dignities. But in the Imperial Palace, things are done in a more... cultured manner. Whilst servants bring out dancing girls, platters of fine food, jugs of alcohol, and baskets of phalluses for the riotous nobility to politely enjoy, you and Lady Janet are led by a party of handmaidens and servants to quarters set aside for this occasion. You walk with her hand atop yours, Janet's delicate fingers resting upon your own while you silently make your way to the bedding chamber, the sounds of merriment fading to a background hum. Behind you Lady Aria, and Janet's handmaiden, follow at a discrete distance, no doubt whispering conspiratorially about one another's charges. Your mothers chose not to accompany you, with the Fifth Consort's parting regards simply being a mild glare; she had already informed you of her desires. Do try to not embarrass me.

Your heart races from this merest touch from a woman, thrill coursing through you from the knowledge of what was to come, of what you had been dreaming about for what felt like ages. Lady Janet meanwhile glides sedately beside you, seemingly unconcerned at the thought of having her maidenhead broken, the trailing edge of her crimson robs swishing softly with every step. You wrack your brain for something to say, anything to alleviate the awkward silence, you were about to have sex and you had not even spoken a word to each other! But nothing comes, your trained brevity drowning in oceans of lust, your mind deserting you as your lower head takes control of your body for the duration. All too soon bowing servants are opening the door to the bedchamber, where a low bed awaits you both, showered with fresh flower petals and lit with low braziers. The servants are left outside while the handmaidens swarm into the room to ensure everything is ready, adjusting everything while maneuvering light screens to best face the bed, to provide a facsimile of privacy to the proceedings.

Gently detaching her from you, Lady Janet's closest handmaiden leads her to the waist-high bed, where she gently settles her, no doubt whispering last-moment advice while she does so. In turn, Lady Aria steps up to you, embracing you before planting a soft kiss upon your forehead, before clasping your shoulders while staring thoughtfully down at you. She nibbles on her lower lip, "You've grown up so swiftly, my prince, I remember nursing you when you were but a baby..." this sudden recollection surprises you, since to your knowledge Lady Aria had no children. She gives you a reassuring smile, "Relax. Remember her entrance is lower than you expect; finish inside of her, and your mother will be pleased," Aria's voice lowers even more, "And should you require assistance, Janet's handmaiden and I will intervene, understood? Good!" Clasping your hand, she guides you to the bed like a general leading his favorite daughter to marriage, "Let us make you a man..."

Lady Janet awaits you upon the sheets, smiling seductively while she reclines against some propped up pillows, coyly toying with robes until you are the foot of the bed, whereupon she languidly opens them to reveal her nubile body. Ordinarily she would have performed a traditional dance for her first lover to spur their arousal, tastefully emphasizing her form while teasing at her Sighs until her partner was stiff with anticipation; or flaccid with disappointment at her lackluster skills. Obviously such a salacious display would have worn away at your already scant stamina, and Lady Janet's first load would have ended up on the floor rather than in her. Which would have been an impressive endorsement of her eroticism, had it come from an experienced lover, rather than from a callow youth. So instead Janet merely bares herself for you with the minimal amount of sensuality, and that alone is nearly enough to cause you to embarrass both of you. Your heart feels as if it was about to burst from your chest, and your mind is lost in a fugue of emotions and desire, you barely notice Lady Aria discretely disrobing you.

The ornamented scarlet of Lady Janet's robes contrasts sensuously with the supple paleness of her smooth skin, the rough brown of her delicate nipples with the silkiness of her perky breasts, the bright pink of her slit with the tangle of dark pubic hair surrounding it. Her own eyes roam your body as well, lingering overlong at the sight of your virgin erection, your rosy tip already bursting from the confines of your foreskin, wet with anticipation. Janet gives you an encouraging smile, "Please be gentle, my lord," are the first words she has spoken to you, her voice a touch high-strung, as she languidly spreads her legs to indicate her readiness for mounting. With foreplay evidently not even a consideration, you give in to the intrinsic instincts pulsing through your head and awkwardly scramble up onto the bed, crawling atop her like a drunken monkey. The mere scent of her sent ants crawling through your veins, the warmth of her body reducing your thoughts even more until only the bleating imperative to breed was foremost in your mind. What you lacked in experience, nature made up for with raw lust, and soon you were between Janet's nubile thighs, but when you go to press your manhood against the flower of her womanhood, you are mortified to discover you have gone completely soft.

Lady Janet glances down with some confusion, the charms of her headpiece tinkling as she tilts her head, "Is something the matter, my lord?" she asks, squinting in the soft lighting to figure out what exactly the problem was, "Are you unable to find my entrance?" You cough miserably as dread slithers through your belly, dread of failing, "No, my lady, I am merely... soft," "Oh," Janet comments, seemingly at a loss of what to do as you were. Even with all of her sensual training, she was similarly struck by the same shock of inexperience caused by her virginity. It was quite possible that your first time would have gone on for some time then, with the both of you uncomfortably fumbling your way to some sort of unhappy climax, but this is why you have an audience. Both of your handmaidens slide onto the bed, no doubt having noticed the complication through the slits in their decorative panels, with Lady Aria pressing herself against you while Lady Janet's attendant lays next to her charge.

Lady Aria's breasts squish tantalizingly against your back, while her hand brushes aside your own and firmly grasps your penis, her palm already slick with saliva as she starts to stroke some vigor back into your member. Meanwhile Lady Janet's handmaiden's hand slips between her lady's thighs, her fingers flickering between her pink folds until the slosh with lubricating fluids, and some color fills Janet's cheeks. Pleasure emanates from your manhood, and soon enough you are rigid within Aria's tender grip, your virginal nerves steadied by her deft application of stimulation, and judging by the sound of it, your partner is receiving the same treatment. Now when your eyes meet, Janet's seductive smile seems a touch more genuine, or at least a bit more filled with actual arousal, and so it is with a renewed sense of confidence that you make your second attempt. This time Aria guides you in, ensuring that your tip enters the correct hole, since anal deflowering is surprisingly common, and Janet hisses as your penis plunges home, gripping her attendant's hand tightly.

Your dream comes true. The primal act that you have been yearning for is finally happening, your hips bucking between Lady Janet's nubile thighs, causing her to squeal and gasp in discomfort, "My lord- please- gently!" She struggles to maintain her facial expression of serene lasciviousness, wincing as your manhood plucks the flower of her maidenhood, "More slowly, please!" But by this point you were struggling to not shove your member as deep as possible into Janet's succulent lily, your penis desperate to find some measure of tightness as Janet's hole expands under your inexperienced thrusts. Not that you minded though, or frankly even noticed, all you could focus on was that you were inside of a woman, and she was far warmer and wetter than you had ever imagined. Which meant that before long, ecstasy bubbles up from your root to your tip, driving your spear as deep into Janet as possible, until with a shuddering groan you finally climax into something other than your sheets. Janet's eyes widen as your seed courses into her, and she grimaces slightly before her training takes over and her legs wrap around your waist to hold you tightly against her shivering form.

When your handmaidens detach the two of you, both heaving for breath, they are quick to shove a white cloth beneath Lady Janet's open flower, as pinkish fluid spills out of her gaping hole. The two of you watch with amazement at the sheer quantity that pours out of her, soaking into the pale linen, "Well, that was... a lot," Janet manages between breaths, "are you quite all right, my prince?" you nod shakily, "Yes, my lady... sorry- I mean, my apologies for my inexperience," Janet manages another smile that turns into an "O" of pleasure as her handmaiden expertly licks her swollen slit clean, an expression you soon share as Lady Aria sucks your manhood until it is spotless. Who seductively wipes away the drool coating her lips with her tongue, before collecting the stained linen and clambering off of the bed to join her fellows who stood facing the door as if waiting for an honored guest to arrive. Soon enough, your mother bustles in, accompanied by Janet's mother, and the two matrons ignore their children completely as they carefully examine the cloth the handmaidens present to them.

Your mother sniffs suspiciously at the evidence of yours and Janet's joining, before conceding, "I see no reason to dispute this deflowering," Janet's mother nods, "Agreed, I can smell his seed as well as her blood," she glances at the favored handmaidens, "you have tasted their sincerity?" she asks, and the pair bow at the waist before replying in turn, "We have." "We have." Your mother nods slightly, "We are in agreement then, Lady Janet shall join my household as my son's first consort, until such a time that he comes of age and removes himself from my protection," she offers a short bow to the lady's previous matriarch, "we are honored by her presence." Janet's mother offers her own, lower bow, "The honor is ours, may the Gods bless your household, and may my daughter bring glory to your household," she intones formally.

The formalities nearly complete, Lady Janet slides to the floor and bows down fully upon the wooden tiles, prostrating herself before your mother, whose lip curls, "Be welcome, lady Janet. Take some time to compose yourself in the guest chambers, your belongings are being sent for as we speak, and you may move fully into your apartments once they arrive," "Thank you, Lady Consort," Janet murmurs, "you honor me," your mother waves dismissively, "Think nothing of it, I expect your fertility to be proven sooner, rather than later," "Have no fear of that," Janet's mother interjects, "my daughter is built for breeding, her sisters seem to spend half of their time waddling about! Now then," her eyebrow raises temptingly, "perhaps we should return to the celebrations, my lady? I am... keen to discover if the tales of your skills are accurate..." A true smile, one that barely cracks around the polite pressing of your mother's severe lips, breaks out, "We shall see if you express these doubts come the morning," your mother motions to her companion, "I shall provide a palanquin for you come the morrow, should you prove unable to walk with the dignity of a lady," and the two promptly leave.

Lady Janet waits until the two older ladies have left, along with a portion of the handmaidens, before rising to her knees with a tired sigh. She glances at you, lets out a breath, before offering, "Well, I am to stay then, my lord. Do I have your permission to leave? I need to... recover from our exertions." Blushing, you nod, and she swiftly rises to her feet, "Thank you for... today, Lady Janet," you manage, "I hope to visit you again soon," Janet bows, "Please do so, my prince, I would hate to disappoint your mother," and at that you silently agree as Janet's attendants wrap her once more in her crimson robes before she glides haltingly out of the room, leaving you practically alone aside from Lady Aria and three handmaidens. Aria glares at the other noblewomen, "The prince is exhausted from his exertions, I shall care for him here while he recovers. Please order the servants to provide us with refreshment." At this the other ladies lower their heads demurely, each snapping fans up to cover their smiles as they gracefully file out of the room, the last one bowing respectfully as she shuts the door.

And then it was just you and Lady Aria, standing stiffly erect, still wearing her finery from the earlier ceremonies, her ample chest heaving with every breath she takes. Tension is so thick it is nearly dripping down the carved walls, the pair of you watching each other warily, unwilling to voice the obvious lest the truth prove too much to bear. But Lady Aria was not some mincing virgin, which she proves by undoing her sash and allowing her extravagant robes to slither down her curvaceous body and pool onto the floor, allowing your eyes to drink in the sight that had given you so many sleepless nights imagining. Aria stalks hungrily forward, driving you back until you topple back onto the bed, your erection already bulging with fresh vigor. The woman who had nursed you as a child, who had helped raise you from the moment you came into this world, sinks slowly to her knees in front of you, her eyes shimmering with desire, "We begin, my prince," Aria sighs, "with the Mouth," and she descends...

Your mother summons you to join her for a late breakfast the next day, and you find her seated on one of the verandas overlooking the garden, the air cool even as the sun continues to rise. The Fifth Consort was surrounded by only a handful of noble ladies, the rest no doubt sleeping off the last night's fervent exertions in your honor, and she sips carefully at her steaming mug of tea. One of the tables arrayed before the railing has been set askew of the others, and it is there that you and Lady Aria are directed, joining a demure looking Lady Janet who had been whispering to her close handmaiden. Your mother nods coolly from the table next over, "You stink," is how she chooses to greet her only son on the morning after his deflowering, and you feel a blush crawling across your cheeks, "Lady Janet," she moves on without preamble, "your mother will not be joining us this morning I am afraid, and I have sent for a palanquin for her. You have a fine mother." Janet bows at this, her headpiece tinkling, "How is womanhood?" "I am... still rather sore, Lady Consort," Janet exhales, "I hope that I shall be allowed the traditional week to recover from my deflowering?" Your mother lazily waves a hand, "You have it, virginity is trial for us all,"

She had barely took a couple steps into the pitch-black darkness before rough hands grabbed her, forcefully ripping off her costume and restraining her into the chair sporting nothing but her skimpy black bra and panties. A spotlight flared to life, illuminating Delaine and the contraption holding her tight, vulnerable body.

A stiff leather strap firmly wrapped over her tiny waist, pinning her body to the chair. Her legs were spread apart, more leather restrains strapping down her thighs and ankles. She blushed, realising just how vulnerable she was, completely bound in place, her dignity held together by two miniscule pieces of fabric.