Crazzy Plays

You find it surprising how whenever it rains, the moment that thunder echoes across the city, there's an almost frantic knock that follows. And of course, once you finally open it, the culprit is right there on the other side.

Ning Yizhuo. Your annoying, meddling, definitely too-involved, overly-attached-and-obsessed, whatever the fuck you wanna call the relationship you share with the girl. You'd call her an ex, but you never officially ended anything. Even with an ocean between the two of you, she'd still find a way, at some point or another, to show up at the doorstep in the middle of the night,

So you sigh at her presence—yet, not because you hate seeing her. No, quite the opposite. It's only out of some kind of spite that you keep her waiting, lingering there outside your house in the rain. Like this is the universe punishing you for past transgressions.

Against your better judgment, you open the door, checking if the doorknob is hot first.

There she stands, looking too attractive in all black, thin stockings, torn somehow, a way too tight skirt hugging her waist. Low cut top, visible through a dark coat, with far too much cleavage to defend against.

And somehow, nothing looks out of place—despite having no other option but to brave the rain to see you.

"Is this your doing, I assume?"

The expression on her face drops from hopeful to annoyance in mere seconds. Ningning rolls her eyes and takes a step forward. You take a step back.

"What, the sky? Please, not even I can control the weather."

"Then why do you always show up whenever there's a storm?"

She pauses, folding her arms. "Call it a coincidence. Now, aren't you gonna invite me inside?"

You hesitate as the storm begins to worsen. Not only the rain but the booming thunder and lightning that chases it, so bad that the entire street lights up. In all honesty, you know that you don't really have another choice. It's not like she'll physically enter the house if you don't allow it, yet she's just insufferable enough to camp in the driveway until the sun comes out.

"Do you even get wet, Ning? You're practically standing in a monsoon out there, and not a spot on you."

"Depends if your pants are still on or not," she fires back, that wicked smile always wide and ready to strike.

You've made worse mistakes than this, you suppose—even though a little voice at the back of your mind urges otherwise.

"Come inside," you say, already regretting the words the moment they leave your lips, gesturing to the open door.

Ningning can't help but smirk. "If things go right tonight, that's what I'll be telling you later, baby."

And just like that, she moves past the doorframe into your place—heading inside like she owns the place.

There's no point in pretending that this isn't an impromptu visit from your not-ex. She kicks her heels off, hanging her coat on the rack beside the door and making you wonder just how many times Ningning has shown up completely dry in the midst of pouring rain.

"So, what did I interrupt that was so important that you took forever to open the door?" Ningning asks, standing around as if she didn't show up uninvited, as if you're expected to drop to your knees just because she's arrived.

"Enjoying the peace, Ning, that's what. It's late," you reply, feeling an incoming headache at having to deal with her. "Maybe if you sent a warning—"

She ignores everything. Stares as you sit back down on the couch, your tea more than a little cold now. "Typical."

You roll your eyes, fighting not to pick an argument while she surveys the place. "Typical what?"

She ignores you again. Somehow unbothered and distant, focused entirely elsewhere—just as if nothing has happened between the two of you. The absolute gall, she has.

"Well, I'm glad you're up at this hour. Even better you're alone."

Now you're the one ignoring her, leaning back down on the couch to finish the last sips of tea, a nagging feeling brewing the pit of your stomach—because there's only ever one reason why she shows up late at night, and it's not to chat over tea.

Much to your chagrin, Ningning looks directly at you, but she moves close—very close, until there's a dangerous look in her eyes while she smiles. "Have you eaten yet?

"A bit, but not really—"

Ningning shakes her head, taunting with a feigned annoyance at your response. "How is it you never have food in this damn house?"

"Don't get hungry often enough, I guess," you say, fighting to keep your eyes off of her outfit.

She nods in response, crossing her arms. "I see. Well then—"

The storm rages on outside the living room window, but your focus is stolen entirely away as Ningning approaches, positioning herself in a spot right in front of your line of sight, as if to distract. Not that it's a hard thing to do. Not when she's wearing a tiny little thing she calls a skirt, stockings that do her legs far too much of a favor, and a top that struggles to contain much of anything.

"Yes, Ning?"

There's a moment that passes by where Ningning stares long enough that you're uncomfortable, long enough to where you feel as if the moment can shatter at any second.

"Look, before I say anything else," she begins, still standing in place as those eyes stay locked on you. "Had to take the train here. Nothing was fucking available. Then a taxi—since you had to live out in bumfuck nowhere. I'm tired, and sore—I'm absolutely starving. Not for food, obviously."

"Obviously," you repeat, hardly in shock with her direct nature. She's hardly ever subtle. "Then take what you need. Don't have to ask twice."

Her lips curl up. "Thanks, sweetie. Knew there was a reason why I liked you."

Without anything further, Ningning is quick—far too quick for your liking while she climbs atop, legs on either side, straddling you—close enough so you can feel the heat on your skin. You sit idly by and soak it all in.

"This'll hurt just a little bit—" she says, before her lips press deep so she can pepper several kisses along the side of your neck. "Just keep still. I'll be quick."

"Don't be."

You don't even register the words that come out of your mouth, not fully, at least. Ningning smirks, running her fingers through your hair, smiling in satisfaction that you've somehow fallen into her trap yet again.

"Darling, I will tear you apart if you let me have my way."

You'd damn near let her.

Ningning's not the type to wait around, tilting her head back so she can bare her glistening fangs, primed and ready to devour you whole in the process. They sink in at the crook of your neck, piercing the skin with ease—almost at the exact same spot you remember from the last time.

Sharp pain shoots through your body in a matter of seconds, as blood flows out without pause, succumbing to her hunger, letting Ningning takes what she pleases. You hiss at the sensation—a strange mixture of pleasure and pain, not sure which is winning out, only able to watch her drain you, eyes locked in an almost sinister trance while she feeds.

Then, just like that, Ningning pulls her head back, lips stained with a crimson red that she wipes off with the back of her hand. She looks more vibrant, alive—eyes that pierce deep, more than satisfied for the night.

"Thanks, love. That's enough," she replies softly, running her fingers over the bite mark before planting a little kiss on your cheek. "Took a little more than usual. Hope you don't mind."

You laugh, looking up, lost in her gaze. "What am I gonna do, Ning, take it back? Don't worry."

"That'd be very inconvenient," Ningning says, smiling at that. "You should rest a bit, yeah? How do you feel?"

You shrug. "I'll manage. Little dizzy, but I'll survive."

"Because you have nothing to eat in this shithole. You sure you're good?"

You nod, smile returning to your face as you glance up. "Yeah, of course. Nothing I haven't handled before."

"Good." Those devilish fangs fully on display linger for one more moment until they retract. You'd be lying if you said you weren't a little disappointed.

"So, is this the part where you tell me why you showed up at midnight, wearing next to nothing?"

Ningning presses her body close, offering just enough cleavage for your eyes to wander. "Like it's a surprise I'm here."

You say nothing, and somehow, that's the one thing that actually bothers her a bit. Ningning rises, turning away, more annoyed than offended—a bit different than her usual arrogant nature. "Haven't seen you in a few months. Didn't think I needed an invitation."

"And maybe there's a reason for that."

Surprisingly, Ningning says nothing else for a fleeting moment. Laughing in spite of it all. "Wow. Is there another vampire bitch here giving you what I can't? Because last time I checked—"

"Of course not," you answer immediately, ignoring the tone in her voice.

"Good. Like I was saying, nobody fucks you like I do, and I don't think there's anyone else out there that can."

You sigh, attempting not to feed that overzealous ego even more. "Ning—"

"Don't Ning me," she snaps, the fangs exposed again, retracting within seconds. "You should be so damn grateful that I'm here right now."

"For what, so you can have a midnight snack?"

Ningning ignores that entirely, moving quickly to straddle you once more, wrapping a set of slender, ice cold fingers around your neck.

Her eyes burn into you, and you're too powerless to look away. "Say it. Say I fuck you the best. I won't leave. Not until you say it."

You ponder whether or not to comply, the air leaving your body bit by bit. Ningning squeezes just the right amount—just enough to leave you wanting more, leaving an ache between your legs.

"You're unbelievable."

"In bed, yeah, I am, aren't I?" she purrs, bringing her lips to yours, crashing them into you, hard. You kiss back, already done with resisting, because like it or not—you need Ning as much as she needs you.

"If you didn't look so sexy right now—"

Ningning cuts off the thought, shoving her tongue down your mouth to silence you. "When do I not? You've seen me at every point possible, at every hour, dressed up, down. Sexy is just the norm for me."

"Always so fucking cocky," you mutter under your breath, diving back in for another taste.

"It's not cocky, it's just the truth," Ningning says, sliding off your lap so she can lower to her knees before you. "Let me prove how accurate that statement is. Let's get these pants off…"

You're far too weak to say no, and not because of the blood loss. One swift movement from Ningning, and she has her fingers hooked at the waistband of your pants.

"May I?"

So polite. With a nod, she tugs them down, just far enough for what she has planned, revealing your boxers that aren't doing a very good job at hiding how aroused you are.

"Mmm, yeah," Ningning purrs, satisfied at what she sees as she begins to palm you over the fabric. "Was kinda worried, but got plenty of blood pumping here..."

There's only one thing left, to let Ningning do whatever she pleases, shove your boxers down so your cock can spring out, the tip practically oozing already.

 "All this for me? Gonna milk you dry tonight."

Again, there are no words that come from you, not a single thing outside a gasp. You try and keep your focus on Ningning herself—on that depraved stare when she strokes you. And she gets right down to business, pressing her tongue against the underside of your cock, flicking it a few times before taking a long drag down.

"I really missed this, baby," Ningning admits, planting several teasing kisses from base to tip, giving such satisfying strokes that make your stiff shaft leak.

You barely catch what she's saying—too focused on her touch, one that you haven't felt in far too long, by the person that knows you best. The heat from her mouth as her kisses linger along each and every inch, every vein that her hand travels down, familiarizing herself once more.

"Missed this inside my pussy, feeling how deep you fill me. Missed sucking it, missing making you cum just from this," she murmurs, staring up through those long eyelashes at you while she presses those full lips around your sensitive head, peppering it with affectionate kisses.

You simply moan, unable to get anything else out with her wet tongue swirling all over the head, savoring the taste.

"You missed me too, didn't you?"I know you did. That's why you won't push me away, or kick me out. That's why you won't ever tell me to stop."

Before you have a moment to breathe, Ningning wraps her lips around the head of your cock, trapping it in warmth, sinking down slowly. You can't hold what comes next, another loud moan that escapes as she gives a pleased hum in response, fondling your balls while her head bobs between your legs.

"Ning—"

She descends again, satisfied with that. And keeps at it—never fully down, never allowing her throat to be too full. Just slow, steady suction and delicious warmth while her tongue teases all over, sliding along base to tip, and back down, using all her tricks to draw your bliss out.

"This beautiful cock, fuck, missed the way you taste. The way you throb, how sexy you sound when you moan, mm," Ningning says, pausing just to run her tongue down every last throbbing inch. "And so, so fucking big. Mine. All mine."

Her head lowers, so sloppy and desperate, popping off just to spit on your stiff cock, spreading it all over before that heat envelops your shaft once more. All you can do is stare, every bob of her head drawing you closer to the back of her throat, a sight far too beautiful not to watch.

"God, Ning. Your fucking mouth…"

"Feels amazing, right? Nobody can make you feel this good. Nobody takes care of you like I do, baby? "

Ningning's right—of course, she's right, just like she always is, and you couldn't fight her words even if you wanted to. Because those lips know what they're doing—know how to please you, how to make you groan so pathetically, like her mouth was made just for your cock.

"I could suck your dick all day."

And you'd let her. Let Ningning take everything she wants and more. Everything feels too good—each flick, each slurp, the heat of her mouth—everything is taking you away, especially when she holds your gaze, until she finally swallows you whole in one fluid motion, nose pressed to your stomach as her lips seal tight.

"Fucking hell—"

It's almost a mistake to watch, to watch how her lips slide to the base and back down, this constant urge to please as her throat fills with every inch, tongue out with every stroke. The wetness that covers your shaft with every pass, mouth engulfing you, and all you can do is grab the back of her head, not to guide, not to control, but to simply indulge.

"Feels so fucking good, shit, nobody can do what you do, Ning."

She just stays still, eyes wide, appreciative at your words with her hands caressing your thighs, hardly any strain on her expression to have your entire aching cock buried in her throat.

"The best part is watching you lose yourself," she murmurs, popping off as saliva connects to your tip, breaking that connection so shes can stroke your the spit-covered shaft. "Lucky for you, I have no use for breathing, so I can have that big fucking cock just where it needs to be.

You're practically trembling, so close already it won't be difficult for Ningning to finish you off. That devious look she gives when reaching down to pull up her tight skirt without her lips leaving you. And it takes all you have not to lose it once you realize she has absolutely nothing underneath, her pretty, wet cunt for your viewing pleasure.

"It's a good thing you had an appetite," she says, shifting position just enough so you can see her fingers rub at her bare pussy. "Because my cunt is about ready to devour you."

Ningning says that as she picks up the pace, one finger between her legs, other hand resting on your thigh—bobbing her head at a frantic rate, taking you down and back up like nothing, not a single gag or struggle. You can't do much more than moan and stare, mouth parted and helpless, balls so tense the longer she keeps going, until Ning mercifully pops her lips from your throbbing cock.

"Thinking about how bad I want to ride you, baby. Or maybe you should have me bend over—fill me from behind and slap my ass as you give it to me. Or get all sprawled out, wrap my legs around you so you can't pull out, pound me while I scream how bad I need you. Lots of options for you to ravage my pussy, isn't there?"

The room is practically silent except for the sloppy, hungry sounds of Ningning awaiting your response, bobbing up and down your cock, tongue gliding flicking along every wet inch.

"Upstairs," you say, all out of breath—and it's all she needs to hear.

Ningning swallows you one more time, leaving a wet kiss on your swollen tip once she pulls off, ignoring your body's pleas to stay.

"Well then, lead the way my cute little fangbanger—but do be careful, I did just drain you."

In more ways than one, that's for sure.

There's a surge in motivation as you begin the trek up the stairs, Ningning close behind. Every footstep up the stairs, each thud echoes, like a countdown to your fate that awaits. You can only think of what's about to happen, the way she will take your body, and the sinful things you're going to do to her own in turn, nothing holding either of you back.

Once you arrive at the foot of your bed, Ningning is quick to shove you back with surprising force, giggling as she watches your weakened frame stumble back and land. She steps away, positioning herself close to the window, so you can see everything illuminated in the moonlight.

Ningning is unreal. Her ethereal beauty too much to handle as she undresses, her complexion glowing, that pale skin more beautiful than anything else. Those painted nails that have dug into your flesh almost as much as her sharp fangs, and your thoughts wander, watching each piece fall until a pile of her clothes lingers on underneath her bare feet.

You nearly faint once she's fully naked and turns to face you.

Every delicious curve for your eyes only, you feast on that naked skin, those pretty nipples, hardened by the cool air, those hips, luscious legs—every single inch of her more than overwhelming you. The silhouette of her body can't compare to the real thing once she closes the distance, climbing your lap in record time, hovering dangerously close to your erection.

"Been a while since you last fucked a vampire," Ningning teases, the heat of her cunt teasing the tip of your cock.

"And just whose fault is that?"

Ningning glares, spreading her wetness over the head and doing little else. "Now you're blaming me? When you made it so difficult just for me to see you?"

Before she drops her hips, Ningning allows her fangs to extend again, almost a reminder of her advantage over you. She's grazing over your chest, not using the full force just yet, merely playing with you. Little lovebites left scattered over her favorite parts of you, as if you won't remember the deep ones on your neck from earlier.

"Fucking love you like this—vulnerable, compliant, all fucking mine," Ningning purrs, catching her breath in between bites. "Bet you'd let me do anything to you tonight."

"I'd let you do anything you want anytime," you admit, realizing what comes from that statement.

She smirks at that, at your sudden honestly. Her tongue swipes the side of your face before trailing the shell of your ear, sucking on the soft flesh of your lobe. "Aren't I the lucky one, then?"

Without anything further, Ningning continues her path of destruction, trailing kisses and licks down your body. Like she's for the right moment to strike, or at god knows what else she has planned. Her lips catch a nipple, giving a few swirls that don't allow the pleasure you need, kissing down your abdomen and grazing the flesh with those fangs—those sharp things coming dangerously close, the thought of them puncturing the skin sending an orgasmic mixture of fear and arousal.

"Don't be nervous, baby," Ningning murmurs, lips tracing lower, planting kisses right below your navel that make you gasp. "Would never hurt you or do without warning. Well, without prior permission."

There's no time to give a snarky reply, nothing witty coming from your mouth as she looks at your skin she's made so sensitive, appreciating her work.

"Not nervous, Ning."

"Oh? Then I might wanna let you do what you want for a change," she murmurs into your skin. Ningning's lips hover right above your inner thighs, her hot breath enough to make you flinch, the anticipation of the bite, the delicate tease making every muscle tense up.

"You'll let me?"

Ningning laughs at your question, tongue dancing from where she left off. "Yeah, I'm giving you a freebie tonight. Have your way with me, darling."

It's a hard bargain—you don't trust her intentions, but there's no time for negotiation.

You lift her off with little effort, almost as if your strength returns without warning. Ningning's on her back, legs spread wide, glistening folds exposed to you as she waits for your next move.

"Yeah, this'll do," you say, drinking in that gorgeous view of her pretty cunt that's about to be made yours.

Ningning just smiles at the gesture. "Always knew you were a stickler for the basics. It's cute, really."

That's what she thinks. With that, you lift her legs up, resting both on your shoulders and folding her tiny frame, each of her feet by your ears. In an instant, her face changes from one of disappointment to realization, just at that split second before the plunge.

"Okay, this is different. I've misjudged, it seems—"

You say little else as your cock buries every inch in, sinking inside that soaking mess, making sure you fill her aching pussy perfectly. The groans slip out at her tightness, the wetness that consumes you, the way that Ningning looks once the motion of your hips start.

"You're fucking mine," you growl at the next slam, while her eyes nearly roll to the back of her head, her intoxicating cunt swallowing you up and clenching to make sure you won't dare leave.

"Ah, f-fuck!" she whimpers once you start to fuck her the way she needs. The way you think she deserves, the way you know the bed is going to protest to. No time for her to adjust, Ningning's tight little cunt clamps down with each desperate thrust, making sure you bury every last inch inside her.

"You're so tight—" you grunt, sweat gathering on your forehead already. "Feel too fucking good—always feel so fucking good.

Ningning looks gorgeous when she takes your cock. Hair a tangled mess, all spread out, completely at your mercy. "And you're so deep, so much deeper this way, damn, baby."

"Don't act so surprised, Ning."

"Oh, don't think I can be surprised? As if I expected this? You're never this aggressive."

"Maybe you pulled it out of me," you admit, hips snapping, watching Ningning's expression falter with each slam to the hilt. It's addicting to see her fall apart for a change, to watch those moans escape, pummeling her cunt like there's no other way, no other alternative—like your dick belongs inside her at all times.

"God, baby, look at you go," Ningning huffs out, parting her lips at the forceful treatment you're dishing out. "Making my pussy feel so good, ah—I haven't been fucked this good in ages."

"Then allow me to remedy that situation," you start, taking pleasure in the way she crumbles, the gasp she makes when you withdraw, the frantic moan when you hilt back in.

"Fuck yes, baby—give it to me. Harder, can feel you in my guts, shit," Ning cries out, throwing her head back, content to bask in the pleasure each time your cock disappears fully into her tight little pussy. "God, I needed you so bad. Needed you to fill me up so well."

"Here I am, Ning. Not going anywhere."

There's this rare moment where she can't find any witty comeback, not when that mouth hangs wide open, no snarky comments falling, nothing but pure unadulterated bliss. She's squirming, nails digging into the sheets, lifting her hips higher to let you reach places she'll feel for days.

"Fuck! Fuck, please, god yes," she pleads, struggling to find the words, staring at you through in hopes that you'll get the memo. "Please. Fuck me deeper, wanna feel all of you, want that cock to ruin me."

And that's precisely what you do—holding that position and looking Ningning right in those pretty eyes as you sink deep, pound that wet pussy until she's clinging for dear life to the sheets. She's powerless to you, or at least, pretending to be, words lost to lust as you fill her again and again.

Knowing that for once, she isn't the one in control—there's no strings attached or manipulating factors—that Ningning, that bloodthirsty, cunning, dominating vampire who can bring anyone and anything under her power, is nothing but a toy under you now. She's yours to do whatever with.

That sets something off inside of you, makes you want to push things further, take things to the next level. You shift, spread those legs wider and lift them off you until her knees almost meet her chest, folding her in half even.

Ningning's expression is filled with approval once you do, hips thrusting wildly with no mercy on her drenched pussy, hitting deeper than even before.

And now she looks delirious with pleasure, and your knees are digging into the mattress so you can get that little extra leverage, more power behind those harsh thrusts, hips working to the max, determined to ruin Ning—if it were even possible.

"That's it, destroy me, baby, make my pussy yours. Isn't it funny—you've got me in this, what do you humans call it? A mating press? And it's almost a shame that you can't breed me—makes me wish you could. Give all that hot, yummy cum something to do besides make my pussy gush."

"That's the last thing we need, another Ning. One of you is more than enough."

"You wish you had two. One to suck your hard cock in the morning and another to sit on your face. Yeah, you'd love that."

Your mind can't seem to even grasp the reality of that, picturing it all for a brief moment, only to continue hammering Ningning's tiny wet cunt. The urge, the carnal need to bring her to her brink and beyond consumes you—your hips working without rest, giving the girl no chance to recover, fucking her over and over in that delicate position with no way out of it.

Her body can't keep up with the intensity, and you can't almost either. Pinned against the mattress with nowhere to go, all that attention focused on her soaking cunt—too sensitive, too wet, too inescapable, each thrust becoming impossible to handle. For both of you.

You take pleasure watching her fall to pieces with each thrust that fills her, savoring every gasp that you cause, each plea for you to keep on driving in deep and hard.

"You, baby, keep pounding me like that—fucking my pussy and ruining it. Giving it to me so hard because you know I can take it, I can handle everything you give. Keep it going, keep going and give me what I deserve, empty those balls inside me like you own this pussy."

Hard not to when she's so convincing—staring at you, demanding your load, pleading to keep hammering that greedy cunt, your balls smacking against her asshole more than ready to dump it all in her.

"Get ready then," you say, hips losing all control—that pussy just won't relent, sucking and squeezing all around and making it harder than ever to keep going any longer.

"Oh, baby, please—I was ready to be pumped full of cum the moment you invited me in. You're gonna cum so hard, I know, fill me, make my pussy so messy. Get that hot load nice and deep in me," Ning pleads, bracing for the inevitable, too far gone for anything else.

"Don't you fucking worry, Ning, this tight pussy is getting everything," you say, sheathing yourself deep in that wetness for as long as you can stand.

"Good, then you know what to do—cum inside me."

You groan out—more than compliant with those demands, no longer fighting against the pressure boiling deep inside. No fight left from that tightness you can't escape from, so you give in, unloading as your cock empties into Ningning. The relief is heavenly, each violent throb, each hot spurt that floods her insides, her cunt clenching to demand it all, keeping you captive while you fuck it all deep.

Ningning follows not a second later, struggling to keep her composure as her own orgasm hits, face contorting in pleasure at her reward, toes curling, walls tightening even more as the sticky mess mixes with her own juices together in her hot depths.

And before you can even finishing pumping it all inside her, your fresh load leaks out that sopping, ruined cunt, pooling underneath your pleasure-stricken bodies.

"That's it, fuck… can always count on you to fill my pussy up, baby, just how I need," Ning groans, a tired smile creeping up on her face as she embraces her own bliss. "So fucking hot."

You linger in your high, and do little other than fall against her body and embrace the relief, cock slipping out enough as your cum begins to spill out and ruin the sheets further, something Ningning wears in such satisfaction.

"See?" Ning asks, a bit of smugness returning her voice, playing with your hair. "Aren't you glad you kept that sexy ass mine? "

Your body shifts, so you can focus your gaze on her beautiful complexion. Even if things may end messy again, you have no regrets. For now, all that matters is being right in the arms of the person who's never been more certain.

"You know how much I missed you, Ning," you respond, watching the way her breasts heave with the breaths that follow.

Ningning glances down at you, like that's an obvious conclusion. "Typical."

Too tired to even roll your eyes, too tired to put up with Ningning's usual antics. "Alright, sounds like its time to go back home, and—"

She wraps her legs around you, preventing movement. "And why do you think that is?"

"You got what you wanted, you drained my blood and my balls. Now you can go."

Ningning's quiet as she ponders, just long enough for a mischievous smile. "No, I don't think so. It's late—let me sleep on your sofa."

"Sleep? You don't sleep until morning."

Ningning just giggles, peppering you with kisses that break down your protests. "Then you get to entertain me until then. Deal?"

"And what if I want to sleep?"

She squeezes tighter with her legs around your waist, keeping you firmly in place. "Then you let the wrong girl inside. Do you think I'm done with you?"

Well, no, you certainly don't. That's something she'll make abundantly clear.

"Okay, fine, I'll stay up—but let me take a shower. You really made a fucking mess."

"Me? You were the one that dumped all that cum in me."

You simply stare at Ning, glaring right back at you. The more you stare, the more you both burst out into a fit of laughter, any attempts at acting serious not lasting more than a few seconds.

"No, I think your pussy deserves some blame. It had my cock trapped pretty tight—"

"But you had me all folded like a goddamn chair. Pinned and begging for your cum, that's on you."

Her eyes narrow and Ningning raises one perfectly shaped eyebrow in disbelief. You just remain there, hands lingering atop her waist. "Oh, my apologies for how rough I got with your pussy. Wasn't aware my precious Ningning was so delicate."

Ningning scoffs, using her strength to move your hands off. "I'm a goddamn vampire, don't talk to me about delicate. You can't hurt me no matter how hard you fuck."

"Is that a challenge?"

Her glare continues. "Don't get fucking cocky, love. You'll hurt yourself more than me."

"Hm, sounds like a challenge to me."

"You're such an idiot. You could literally use both hands to choke me with no mercy and I'll just laugh at how pathetic you look. Nothing you can do."

You tilt your head. "Does that mean you'd enjoy the idea?"

"I didn't say I was against it. Just won't do anything, is the point."

There's little sense in debating the merits of that claim. And you're so exhausted that you wouldn't even try. For tonight at least, you can let Ning have this victory.

The rain eventually calms down, enough for the two of you to head outside the balcony and enjoy the weather without risk. Freshly showered, with Ningning in nothing but a stolen shirt from your closet. It's late—so late, but you don't really care.

"Are you planning to make a habit of this?" you ask, knowing what you're asking might be dangerous territory.

Ningning's head turns, the grin on her face looking devilish from so close as she leans over the balcony railing. "Would it upset you if I did?"

An hour ago and you'd have a very different answer—now you aren't so sure. "No, not really. I mean, not like I can ever stop you."

Ningning just takes in your reaction, her own expression not changing a bit. "If I didn't know any better, I'd say you missed me."

You sigh, staring up at the night sky as she inches a little bit closer. "A pretty girl shows up at my door and lets me do whatever I want, lets me fuck her hard against the shower wall—yeah, maybe a little."

Ningning laughs, her hand creeping around to find yours, fingers interlocking and thumb rubbing slowly against your flesh. "Is that all it takes? For me to show up, suck your dick and let you empty your balls into me, then I'm suddenly a good person?"

"Hey, I never said that—"

"Darling," she says, tightening her grip, bringing her head right next to yours, warm breath ghosting over your ear. "I'd bend over and do every dirty little thing you ask without complaint. I'd worship your cock just for the sake of making you happy. All I need is for you to say you want that. That you want me."

That gets your attention. You can't say that this night has been anything but wonderful, despite your trepidation in at the beginning. Your fingers squeeze tightly around hers, eyes focused on Ningning's pretty face in the dark, moon illuminating her features.

"God, what am I getting myself into.."

She laughs, flashing that bright smile before turning back to face the city skyline. "Hopefully me again, love."

You snake your arms over around her small waist until she's tight against you. With no shame whatsoever, you slide your hands underneath, squeezing Ningning's bare ass and pulling her into a kiss.

"But what if I wanted to do all kinds of crazy things to you, Ning? Or wanted you to do them to me?"

Ningning struggles not to smile, doing all she can to not succumb to the giddy laughter that tries to emerge. "Just tell me a time and date then. So I can catch that goddamn train."

Not letting up, you steal her lips, tasting them, savoring how soft they feel against yours, running your hands all over her cold, bare skin.

"Why catch a train when I have a perfectly good sofa for you to crash on?" you ask between kisses, trying to spend as much time pressed up against her body as possible.

"Darling," she interrupts, almost annoyed, staring directly into your eyes. "Please be serious right now. Don't treat me like I'm some random hookup."

You raise an eyebrow, confused. "I wasn't. I'm offering you a place to stay."

Ningning breaks out into a little laugh. She stops herself when you show no sign of joking.

"Wait, you're actually serious? Really? Stay?"

You interrupt her with another kiss. "Isn't that what I said? Not gonna make you sit on some shitty train for hours just to get dicked down at some ungodly hour. Stay with me. Tonight. Tomorrow night. Whenever you want."

She doesn't know what to say to that, only that her smile is spreading from ear to ear. "Of course I'll stay—thought you'd never ask. I'll happily get dicked down any time I come. Suck your dick the moment you wake up. Make breakfast, talk dirty to you while you stroke and cum on my tits, all kinds of crazy, naughty things—"

"Ning, you already have an invite, you don't need to try so hard."

She laughs it off. "What can I say, I get excited by the idea of seeing that cock at any hour."

"Christ. Is that the only reason you want to live here? Just so you can drain me dry every hour on the hour?"

The little giggle that Ningning gives is enough of an answer, knowing she can't deny the fact that it's a strong motivating force behind her plans. "No, of course not, baby. I also need you around so I can take your blood whenever I need it."

You scoff at that, threatening to leave the balcony altogether. Ningning, laughing again, wraps her arms tight around yours, refusing to let you out of her grasp. "I'm not a buffet, Ning."

"Mm," she hums, nuzzling into your neck. "You're whatever I need you to be. Your cock certainly is. Your thick, juicy, delicious—"

"Ning—"

"Yes, darling?"

"Come inside. It's freezing and the rain is starting up again. And you're not wearing anything to speak of."

Ningning laughs, clinging to your side. "Or what, I might die? Vampire, love. I could do this all night."

Another sigh escapes, pulling away only to lift her up into your arms, getting a good grip under her ass so the resounding sound of her squeal fills your ears once you carry her back inside.

"Someone is eager to go again," Ningning says, more than happy with where things are heading. You pretend that the thought doesn't cross your mind.

"No, I'm freezing and wanna go to sleep. I have work tomorrow," you say, depositing her ass right onto the cushions of the sofa before she can put up a fuss.

"It's the weekend, love," she reminds, pulling you down on the couch with her, legs already wrapping around and taking the fight out of you. "Which means you're stuck with me until Monday."

Nothing you can do but laugh at her persistence. You kiss her, once, and then pull away. Staring into her eyes, taking in her beauty, wondering if it would always be this difficult for you to escape.

"Should have listened. When people say you shouldn't feed strays. Because they always keep coming back."

Ningning's expression changes, lips turning into a far more offended pout. "Are you calling me a stray? What the fuck—"

"You always show up on my doorstep, wanting scraps and a place to rest. Is that not far off the mark?" you tease, only to be cut off by her lips.

"Rude," she mumbles between each kiss. "There are plenty of places I could be. Men to see. Bars to visit. Places to collect victims. Yet, here I am. Guess where I've chosen."

"Just sounds like you don't have anywhere else to go if you ask—"

Ningning's kisses stop abruptly, grabbing your head and guiding it down between her legs. "I didn't ask, thanks. Now if you don't mind, be a good boy and eat my pussy before I need to feed again."

Soft skin. Slim fingers. Cool against your temples. You reach up, thumb brushing across her knuckles. Small hands. Smooth skin. Expensive perfume. "Gotta be the janitor," you say. "Pretty sure we're moving way too fast, though."

The hands pull back immediately. Then a tiny offended noise. Footsteps around the table.

"Ha. Ha. You're sooo funny, nerd. I like you already.”

Enami Asa steps into your line of sight and every coherent thought you had about thermodynamic equilibrium just evaporates. She's wearing all black. Cropped top, short skirt, boots that go halfway up her calves. Red lipstick that makes ignoring her full lips completely impossible. Her black hair falls straight past her shoulders and she's looking at you with this amused little tilt of her head.

You blink hard and rub your eyes. Enami Asa: one of the most beautiful girls on campus. Right there, in the dead zone of the university library. Staring at you. What the fuck is happening?

"You know you're insanely hard to find, right?" she says, placing her backpack on the table before dropping into the chair across from you. She crosses her legs and leans back, eyes drifting over the dusty shelves. "Do you always hide out back here? I literally did two full laps around the building.”

"I was studying," you say, closing your laptop halfway. "Can I help you with something?"

She grins. Not in a nice way.

And you're not dumb. You get it. You've spent enough time here to understand how the whole social hierarchy thing works. Girls like Asa don't go looking for guys like you in some forgotten library corner unless they want something. Notes. Homework help. A study guide. Some favor they can cash in with a cute smile and forget about a few hours later.

"You can, actually," she says. "In fact, you might be the only person who can help me right now."

"That's a bold statement."

"I'm a bold girl," she says, adjusting in her seat until she's comfortable. Then she casually drops, like this is the most normal topic ever, "So there's this challenge going around on Twitter."

"X."

"Eat shit, it's literally the same app." She waves you off. "Anyway. It's trending right now. Me and my friends got into it too. Sort of a competition, I guess. NSFW stuff.”

Your pen stops moving.

"Oh…"

"Yeah." Now she's fully studying your face, looking way too entertained by the horror slowly spreading across it. "The idea's simple. You record yourself getting facefucked, upload it, get some likes, drive more people to your OF. Then gooners start ranking clips and arguing in the comments over which one's best. It's become this whole thing. Hashtags and all.”

You look left. You look right. You check behind you to make sure nobody has a camera pointed at this table. "Are you serious right now?" you ask.

"Of course I'm serious," she says, sounding almost offended. "Why the hell would I walk all the way to the ass end of this library and say that kind of shit to a guy like you if I wasn't serious?"

"I genuinely don't know. It's just... a pretty strange request."

"Don't be scared. Be flattered."

"I am neither of those things." You lean back in your chair. "Look, there are like ten thousand guys at this school. You literally have a different one on your arm every week. Go ask one of them."

Asa shakes her head. Just one slow motion. "Nah. Can't do that. We set a rule that every one of us has to find a different guy for the video." She leans back a little. "Has to be a nerd. Someone who'd normally have zero chance with any of us. That's the whole trend."

You stare at her for a few long seconds. "Damn, Asa. Really appreciate you putting me in the 'absolutely no shot' category.”

She laughs, loud enough that it echoes through the shelves and instantly makes you paranoid someone nearby heard the conversation. "Don't take it like that. Seriously. It's not even an insult. Think of it as charity." Her head tilts slightly. "Besides..." Her eyes narrow a little as she looks at you. "You've actually got something going on. Nerd glasses, messy hair… It's kinda cute."

"Amazing. Please engrave that on my grave."

"Stop being so dramatic."

"No. That's my final answer," you say immediately. "Find another victim.”

Asa gets to her feet. Then she does something that completely fries your remaining brain cells. She circles the table at an annoyingly calm pace and sits right in your lap. Just... casually. Her arm drapes over your shoulder while she gives you this ridiculous pout.

"Pleeease?" she says, all soft and sweet. "It'll take like five minutes. Nobody comes back here anyway. You've been hiding in this corner for hours and not one person walked past." She adjusts herself slightly. “I just need you to lend your cock and hold the phone. That's it."

You blink at her. "I can't believe this trend actually exists."

"Oh, it exists.” She already has her phone out. She pulls it from her skirt pocket and drops back onto your lap, scrolling lazily. “See? Hashtag RuinThePrettyFace. It blew up like four days ago.”

She holds the phone inches from your face. One clip after another. Smudged eyeliner. Sloppy expressions. Girls posing for the camera after getting absolutely wrecked. Your eyebrows climb higher with every swipe. Then she opens her own profile. Asa’s account is basically curated nude photography. Soft lighting. artsy filters. Careful angles. Nude after nude after nude.

“Hold on. This is your account?”

“My NSFW alt, yeah.” She shrugs. “Got twelve thousand followers. So?”

"No. Never.”

"Why not?"

"Because I have dignity. And you should try having some too. What you're describing is slutty."

She pulls back just enough to look you dead in the eyes. Zero shame. Zero hesitation. "But I am a slut," she says simply. "So that argument doesn't really work on me. Please," she repeats. "I'll do anything."

"Anything?”

"Anything." A pause. Then she laughs, catching herself. "Well. I can't exactly offer you sex as a reward because that's basically what's already going to happen. So that's off the table as a bargaining chip." She taps her chin, pretending to think. "Buuut you'll have my gratitude. My eternal, undying gratitude!”

"And what the fuck am I supposed to do with your gratitude?"

"I don't know, maybe shove it up your ass and stop playing hard to get?!" She hops off your lap and does a little spin in the aisle between shelves, arms out, letting you look. She stops facing you, one hand on her hip. "Look at me," she demands. "I'm hot. I'm perfect. Any guy on this campus would sell a kidney to be sitting where you're sitting right now. And you're telling me no? Be so fucking for real, dude.”

You rub your temples. "You're actually insane."

"Maybe. But I'm also not leaving until you say yes. I'll sit here all night. I'll follow you to your car. I'll show up at your next class. I will make this so much worse for you if you keep being difficult."

"That's called harassment."

"Call campus security then. Tell them Enami Asa won't stop asking you to let her suck your dick. See how much sympathy you get."

You let out a long breath through your nose. She's got you cornered and she knows it. You can see it all over her pretty face already, that smug little grin spreading because she's realized she's winning.

"Fuck me..." you mutter.

"Is that a yes?!"

You close your laptop with a soft click. Pinch the bridge of your nose beneath your glasses. Then you look up at her. At the ridiculously gorgeous girl standing between rows of dusty shelves in that little black outfit, red lips, and absolutely zero sense of shame. You make a decision that's either going to haunt you forever or randomly hit you at age eighty and make you smile. "Fine. Make it quick.”

Asa actually lights up. She bounces on her heels and claps once before she can stop herself. "Yes! Okay! Perfect!" She grins at you. "You seriously won't regret this.”

"I already regret this." She starts to lower herself to her knees right there, but you raise a hand and she freezes. "Wait," you say. "Can we at least make out a little first? Just to, you know… set the mood. I can't just go from thermodynamics to getting my dick sucked with no transition."

She stares at you for a second before rolling her eyes so hard it's honestly impressive.

"Oh my god." A sigh. "Fine. Sure. Whatever you need."

She comes back and sits on your lap again, this time facing you fully, her knees on either side of your thighs in the library chair. Your hands find her waist on pure instinct, settling on the strip of bare skin between her top and her skirt. She's warm. Unbelievably warm.

"You're unfairly hot, by the way. I'm having a hard time believing this is a real situation right now."

"I know," she says immediately, completely shameless. Her hands slide onto your shoulders. "Now enough with the compliments. Kiss me.”

You kiss her. It starts slow because you're still half convinced this is an elaborate prank and someone's going to jump out from behind the reference section with a camera. But Asa's lips are soft and she tastes like mint and whatever that expensive lipstick is made of, and your brain stops looking for the trap pretty quickly. Your hands settle on her waist, thumbs pressing into the narrow strip of bare skin above her skirt. She's tiny under your palms. You can almost feel her ribs.

She's good at this. Obviously she's good at this. Her tongue finds yours and she tilts her head just right, and there's this little sound that comes out of her, this quiet, pleased hum against your mouth that makes your fingers tighten on her waist without you meaning to. She shifts on your lap, pressing closer, and her hands slide from your shoulders to the back of your neck.

You're getting into it. Really getting into it. Your hand starts to drift up her side and she makes another sound, breathier this time, and you can feel the vibration of it through her whole body. Then she turns her head, breaking the kiss, and her palm lands flat on your chest. "Okay, okay. Enough."

"What?"

"I said enough." She wipes the corner of her mouth with her pinky finger, checking for smudges. "You're going to ruin my lipstick before we even start. My makeup needs to get destroyed on camera, not during the warm up."

"You have very specific priorities."

"I have excellent priorities." She rolls her hips once on your lap, settling her weight, and then goes completely still. You watch her expression shift. Her eyes drop down between your bodies, then come back up to your face. "Well," she says, and there's something new in the way she's looking at you. "I think we can start."

She picks up her phone from the table, slides off your lap, and drops to her knees on the library carpet. She taps the screen a few times, opens the camera app, and holds the phone out to you. "Here. You're filming."

You take it. "Vertical or horizontal?"

“Of course it’s vertical. This is Twitter content, not cinema.”

You angle the phone. She reaches for your belt. Her fingers work the buckle loose, then the button, then the zipper, and she's efficient about it, tugging your jeans down your thighs with a little help from you lifting your hips. Your boxers are still on. The outline of you through the fabric is, well… it's pretty obvious.

Asa pauses. Her hands don't move, still resting at your waistband, but her eyes do. They settle on the bulge and stay there.

"Huh?'' she mutters.

Then she pulls your boxers down. Your cock springs free and bobs once, heavy and thick, settling against your lower stomach. The shaft is fat, veiny, flushed. In the dim lighting of the library corner, it looks even bigger than usual, and Asa is just kneeling there, looking at it, her hands frozen in midair. "Wow," she says quietly. Then, louder, like she's trying to convince herself as much as you. "Okay. This might be harder than I imagined."

You look down at her. "You can always give up."

Her head snaps up. The shock on her face converts instantly to pure, offended determination. "Excuse me? You think I'm afraid of a big cock? Are you seriously sitting there telling Enami Asa to give up?"

"I'm just saying."

"Don't underestimate me." She wraps her fingers around the base and the tips barely meet her thumb. She stares at that for a second, jaw flexing, then shakes it off. "Okay. Here's how this works. I'm going to suck your dick first. Get it nice and wet, do my thing. Then when I tap your thigh twice, like this," she demonstrates, two quick pats on your leg, "that's your signal. That means you can start fucking my face. Got it?" You nod. "Use one hand for the phone, one hand on the back of my head. And keep the angle tight on my face. This isn't about you, this is about me looking good."

"And then looking bad."

"And then looking incredible while looking bad." She adjusts her position on her knees, straightens her back, flips her hair over one shoulder. "You can start recording."

You hit the red button. The timer starts counting in the corner of the screen.

The shift is immediate. Asa was already pretty, already the kind of person who pulled attention without trying, but the second the camera goes live, something changes. Something clicks into place. Her posture straightens slightly. Her chin lifts. A slow smile pulls at her lips. Suddenly she isn't looking at you anymore. She's looking at the lens. Looking at the people on the other side of it. The ones who'll watch this alone in bed at some stupid hour of the night.

And just like that, she's performing.

She leans forward and presses her lips to the tip of your cock. Just a kiss. The red lipstick leaves a faint mark on your skin and she pulls back to admire it, still smiling at the camera. Then her tongue comes out, flat and pink, and she drags it across the head in one slow pass. Another kiss, this time on the underside, right where the shaft meets the ridge. She's teasing. Taking her time. Making sure the camera catches every angle of her pretty face against your thick cock.

She licks a long stripe from the base to the tip, her dark eyes locked on the lens the entire time. Then another. Then she swirls her tongue around the head, slow and wet, collecting the precum that's already beading at the slit. She holds it on her tongue for a beat, letting the camera see it, then swallows and licks her lips clean.

She opens her mouth and takes you in. The feeling is insane. Her mouth is hot and tight and her tongue does this thing where it presses flat against the underside of your shaft as she sinks down, creating this slick pressure that makes your toes curl in your shoes. She takes about half of you on the first pass, which given the girth is genuinely impressive, and her cheeks hollow as she pulls back up.

And she looks so fucking beautiful doing it. Enami Asa, on her knees on the library floor, with her black outfit and her red lipstick and her sharp little face stuffed full of your cock. The visual is so absurd, so completely disconnected from everything your life has been up to this point, that you almost forget to keep the phone steady.

She sucks you with purpose. Bobbing her head in a steady rhythm, taking a little more each time, letting the spit build up until it's coating your shaft in a slick layer. She pulls off with a wet sound and spits on your cock, a thick string that drips down the length, and then her fist wraps around you and pumps, spreading it, twisting at the head. She jacks you off with both hands for a few strokes, watching the way your cock throbs in her grip, and then she's back on it, hungrier this time.

You can feel her jaw stretching around you. Can see the effort in the way her brow furrows slightly, the way her throat works as she tries to accommodate the width. But she doesn't stop. Doesn't slow down. She finds her rhythm and sticks with it, her head moving in smooth, controlled bobs, her lips sealed tight, her tongue working the underside.

She pulls off just long enough to glance up at you. Not at the camera this time. At you.

"You better be getting my good side," she murmurs, her fist still pumping slowly.

"You're kind of busy to be giving direction."

"I'm always giving direction." She licks the tip once more, then sinks back down.

A minute passes. The wet sounds of her mouth on you fill the quiet corner of the library, obscenely loud in the silence. Spit drips from her chin onto her black top. Her lipstick is starting to smear, red bleeding past the edges of her lips, staining your shaft in uneven rings.

Then you feel it. Two quick taps on your thigh. She takes you back into her mouth, both hands dropping to rest on your knees, and tilts her head up so the camera can catch her full face. Her eyes are glassy. Her lips are swollen. She looks up at you through her lashes and gives the smallest nod.

You adjust the phone in your right hand, making sure the frame is tight on her face. Then your left hand slides to the back of her head, fingers threading through her dark hair, and you grip.

Your fingers tighten in her hair. You guide her head forward, slow, feeling the resistance of her throat as your cock pushes deeper than she was taking it on her own. Asa's hands grip your knees and her jaw stretches wide, lips pulling taut around your girth. She gags once, a tight spasm at the back of her throat, and you pull her back. She gasps, spit connecting her lower lip to your shaft in a thin strand, and before she can fully recover you push her down again.

The rhythm is careful at first. You're testing how much she can handle, reading the tension in her shoulders, the way her fingers flex against your legs. Each push goes a little deeper. Each pull gives her just enough time to suck in a quick breath before you feed her your cock again. The wet sounds are filthy in the silence of the library. Every gag, every slick glide of her lips echoes off the bookshelves.

Asa's brow creases. She's concentrating, trying to relax her throat, but the girth keeps catching her. You can feel it, the involuntary tightening each time the thickest part of your shaft hits the back of her mouth. Her eyes water. Not crying, just the reflexive response of her body fighting what her brain has decided it's going to do. She breathes hard through her nose, hot bursts against your pelvis, and pushes through.

You set a pace. Your hand guides her head in smooth bobs, your hips rolling up to meet her on the downstroke. Spit builds and spills from the corners of her mouth, running down her chin in messy lines. The red lipstick is wrecked now, smeared in wide streaks across her cheeks and along your shaft, leaving your cock painted in uneven bands of crimson. Her mascara holds for a while, longer than you'd expect, but the constant watering finally wins and dark smudges start bleeding beneath her lower lashes.

She pulls off your cock abruptly, gasping, a thick rope of saliva stretching from her lips to your head before snapping and landing on her chin. She coughs once, wipes her mouth with the back of her hand, smearing the lipstick further. Her eyes are glassy and red rimmed when she looks up at you.

"How is it," she asks between breaths. "How do I look?"

You angle the phone down at her, making sure the frame catches everything. The ruined lipstick, the mascara tracking down her cheeks, the spit glistening on her chin and neck, the way her usually perfect hair is sticking to the damp skin of her forehead.

"Beautiful," you say. "Completely ruined. You look incredible."

"Good," she says. "That's the point." She opens her mouth and takes you back in, and this time you don't start slow. Your grip tightens in her hair and you thrust up into her mouth with real intent, your hips snapping, the back of her throat meeting your cock on every stroke. Asa groans around you, the sound vibrating through your entire shaft, and her hands fly to your thighs for balance.

The pace is punishing now. Her head bobs in your grip, guided by your hand, and the sounds coming from her mouth are obscene. Wet, choked, guttural. Drool pours freely, coating your balls, dripping onto the carpet between her knees. Her black top is spotted with dark wet patches. She gags hard on a deep thrust and you hold her there for a second, your cock buried to the hilt, her nose pressed against your pelvis, feeling her throat convulse around you before you let her up.

She pulls back just far enough to breathe, her lips still brushing the head, and looks up at you with those ruined, watery eyes.

"Fuck," she pants. "This cock is so thick. I can barely fit it in my mouth." She jacks you with one hand, spit making the motion effortless, her small fingers unable to close around the circumference. "How does a little nerd end up with something like this? It's not fair."

"Genetics," you manage.

"Shut up." She licks a flat stripe up the underside, collecting the mess of spit and precum. "I'm serious, this thing is fat. My jaw is going to be sore for a week." She presses her lips to the head, almost affectionately, then opens wide and takes you deep again.

You fuck her face harder. The library is dead quiet except for the relentless, sloppy rhythm of your cock in her throat. Asa has given up trying to look composed. Her eyes are squeezed shut, tears cutting clean tracks through her smudged mascara. Her cheeks are flushed pink beneath the mess of ruined makeup. Spit and drool coat her entire chin, dripping in long strings onto her chest. She looks nothing like the sharp, immaculate girl who sat down across from you twenty minutes ago.

She looks better.

Your balls tighten. The pressure that's been building low in your stomach pulls into a hard knot and you feel the edge approaching fast. Asa must feel it too, the way your cock swells, the way your grip shifts in her hair, because her eyes open and lock onto yours. She doesn't pull back. She grabs your hip with one hand and pulls you deeper, taking your cock into her throat until her lips stretch around the base, and holds herself there.

You cum. The first shot fires directly into her throat and Asa's eyes go wide. You can see the muscles in her neck working, trying to swallow around the sudden flood. Your cock pulses again, a second thick load, then a third, each one making her throat bob as she struggles to keep up. It's a lot. More than she expected, clearly, because her eyes start to water fresh and you can hear this strained, gurgling sound as she tries to swallow without pulling off.

She manages. Barely. Her throat works overtime, gulping, swallowing, her fingers digging into your thigh hard enough to leave marks. Some of it escapes, a thick white trail leaking from the corner of her sealed lips, running down her chin, dripping onto her collarbone. She stays on you through the last few pulses, her throat milking every drop, until you finally stop throbbing and your grip in her hair loosens.

Asa pulls off slowly. Your cock slides from between her lips with a slick, heavy sound, and she sits back on her heels, breathing hard.

Her face is destroyed. The red lipstick exists only in faint, smeared traces across her cheeks and chin. Her mascara has bled into dark streaks that reach almost to her jawline. Her eyes are bloodshot, rimmed in red, lashes clumped together with moisture. Drool and cum coat her chin, her neck, the front of her top. Her hair is tangled and damp where your fingers gripped it.

She looks at the camera and smiles. This wide, satisfied, absolutely filthy smile, cum still glistening on her lower lip. She holds the look for a few seconds, letting the camera drink it in.

You stop recording. The timer reads eleven minutes and forty seven seconds. Your thumb hits the red button and the screen freezes on the last frame. Asa on her knees, wrecked, smiling. "How'd it turn out," she asks, her speech slightly hoarse. She reaches for the water bottle on the table and takes a long drink.

You scroll back through the footage, skimming. "Pretty good, actually. You have a genuine talent for this."

"I have a talent for most things." She holds her hand out. "Let me see." You pass her the phone and she watches sections of the clip, scrubbing through with her thumb, pausing on certain moments. Her expression is clinical now, analytical. She's reviewing footage, not reliving the experience.

"When are you posting it," you ask, pulling your boxers back up, getting your jeans situated.

"Probably tomorrow. Or maybe the day after. I still need to throw the video into Premiere and polish the edit a bit.”

"...You're editing blowjob footage in Premiere. Okay, sure. I don't know why I'm still surprised."

"Well yeah?" She looks at you like you're the weird one. "The lighting back here was awful. I need to fix the exposure, warm up the colors a little, cut out the dead space at the beginning..." She swipes through the footage. "Probably clean up the framing too. Blur anything that points back to you. Add captions… I'm not uploading raw footage. Be serious.”

You stare at her. "Is all that really necessary? It's a blowjob video, not a short film."

"It is absolutely necessary. You can't just upload raw footage like some amateur. Quality matters. Presentation matters. This is going on my page, and my page has an aesthetic."

She puts the phone down, reaches for her backpack on the table, and pulls out a small face towel and a compact mirror. She flips the mirror open and examines her reflection, tilting her head side to side, cataloguing the damage. Then she starts cleaning up, wiping the mascara streaks, the spit, the residue from her chin and neck.

"Thank you, by the way," she says, not looking up from the mirror. "Your dick is really nice. Genuinely. It looked great in the video. The size contrast between me and that thing is pretty hot."

"Thank you. I guess."

"You're welcome. I guess." She mimics your tone without missing a beat, still dabbing at her face. "You can leave now. I need to finish putting myself back together and I can't do that with you watching me."

You gather your laptop, your notes, your pens. Everything goes into your backpack. You zip it shut and stand up, pushing the chair back under the table. "Hey. One thing."

"What."

"Change my voice in the video. Pitch it up or down, whatever. Just alter it enough that nobody can identify me."

She waves dismissively. "Already planned on it. I'll run it through a filter. I'm a pro at this stuff." She meets your eyes in the mirror's reflection. "Now bye."

"Bye, Asa." You sling your backpack over your shoulder and walk out of the dead zone of the library, past the dusty reference shelves, back toward the main floor where normal people are doing normal things. The late afternoon sun hits you through the library's front windows as you push through the doors. Fresh air fills your lungs. You adjust your glasses, fix your hair, and start walking toward the parking lot.

It was a little degrading. You're aware of that. You just let a girl you barely know use you for content, boss you around, and treat you like a prop in her social media strategy. That part stings, a bit, if you think about it too hard.

On the other hand, it was also one of the best orgasms of your life. So maybe sitting with it too long isn't necessary.

—

The girls have officially taken over the theater lobby.

Ning’s holding a popcorn bucket almost as big as she is, carefully picking out the best coated pieces first. Shuhua has already loaded up on candy and a slushie. Yunjin’s in the middle of debating the water bottle policy with the cashier. Somi’s texting someone nonstop. Chaeyoung is fully invested in the ingredients list on a candy box for reasons nobody understands. Asa is standing slightly apart from the group, examining her nails.

“Has anyone recorded it yet?" Ning asks, popping a kernel into her mouth. "The challenge, I mean. I haven't even picked a guy."

General murmurs of negation ripple through the group. Shuhua shakes her head. Yunjin is still fighting the cashier. Somi doesn't look up from her phone. Chaeyoung quietly puts the candy box back on the shelf.

"I have," Asa says.

Every head turns.

"Already?" Shuhua's eyes go wide. "It's been like two days since we agreed on this."

"It was this afternoon, actually." Asa inspects a cuticle with surgical focus. "I finished about four hours ago."

Ning abandons her popcorn curation entirely. "Send it. Right now. Group chat."

"Absolutely not. I haven't finished editing. The raw footage needs color correction, the audio is unbalanced, and I want to add text overlays for the—"

"Oh my god, just send the raw version,” Ning groans.

"No. You'll see it when it's ready."

Shuhua leans in, lowering her tone even though nobody else in the lobby is paying attention. "Is it someone from our college?"

"Yes."

"Someone we know?"

Asa lets out a short laugh. “Absolutely not. He’s literally just some random library guy. Total loser. But Jesus Christ, his dick is huge. Like, weirdly huge. I was not mentally prepared for that at all.” Ning's eyebrows climb her forehead. "It was fucking hard to handle," Asa continues, touching her throat absently. "My throat still hurts a little, honestly. The girth on that thing was insane."

"The quiet ones always pack," Yunjin offers, having apparently won her water bottle argument. She rejoins the group with the confidence of a courtroom victor. "It's like a rule of the universe."

Chaeyoung has been quiet this whole time, fidgeting with the hem of her sweater. She clears her throat softly. "I've been thinking, and I might not do the challenge. I don't think I can just walk up to some random guy and ask him to, you know. I'd rather die."

Somi finally looks up from her phone. She crosses the gap between them in two long strides and puts her hand on Chaeyoung's shoulder. Firm. Decisive. "You're not backing out," Somi tells her. "I won't allow it."

"But I literally cannot approach a stranger and say those things to his face. I would combust."

"Then don't. You're recording with me. We'll do it as a duo."

Chaeyoung blinks. "Wait, really?"

Yunjin nods encouragingly. "If you want, we can help you find someone too. I know a few guys in my econ lecture who would probably pass out if you looked at them."

Somi cuts her off. "No need. I already have someone picked out. Chae records with me, I handle the talking, she just needs to show up and look pretty." She squeezes Chaeyoung's shoulder. "Easy."

Relief floods Chaeyoung's face. "Okay. If we're doing it together, then yeah. I'm in. Thank you."

"Don't thank me. Just bring lip gloss and a hair tie."

Asa tilts her head, considering the arrangement. "A duo is smart, actually. The contrast will look really good on camera. Two girls, one cock. The timeline will eat that up."

"It's going to be so hot," Ning agrees, pulling out her phone to check the trending hashtag.

Armed with popcorn, candy, and oversized drinks, the six of them file into the theater. They talk about the movie previews, assignments, dumb campus gossip. As if they’re not all going into this week with the exact same goal: finding someone with a nice dick.

—

The next day arrives. You're walking through the main corridor on the second floor, laptop bag over your shoulder, earbuds in, heading toward your next lecture. The hallway is busy. Students moving between classes, conversations overlapping, the usual controlled chaos of midday foot traffic.

"Hey, you!"

You don't react. That shout belongs to someone else's life.

"Hey! I'm talking to you! Glasses!"

Still probably not you. Lots of people wear glasses. You keep walking. Fast footsteps come up behind you, then a manicured hand lands on your shoulder and whips you around surprisingly hard.

Jeon Somi stands in front of you.

Blonde hair spilling over her shoulders in soft waves. A designer jacket thrown over a top that’s doing absolutely nothing to hide her massive breasts. Long legs wrapped in fitted jeans. Sharp cheekbones, light brown eyes, and a look that feels dangerously close to a threat.

“Are you deaf?” she asks bluntly.

“Sorry. Didn’t realize you were talking to me. People don’t usually yell at me in hallways.”

“Yeah, I can tell.” Her gaze drags over you from head to toe, quick but thorough, leaving you feeling weirdly inspected. “You’re coming with me.”

“Where? Why?”

She doesn't answer. She grabs your hand and starts walking. Not beside you. Ahead of you. Pulling you behind her like a rolling suitcase. Her grip is strong and her strides are long and you have to half jog to keep up without tripping. People notice immediately. Heads turn. Conversations pause. You catch students doing double takes as you pass. Two guys from your programming class nearly short-circuit when they see Jeon Somi towing you down the hall.

And yeah, you get why. Everyone knows who she is. The leaked nude scandal last semester made sure of that. So did the endless rumors afterward, the guys she’s been seen with, the stories people tell about her like she’s some campus celebrity. Someone like her choosing someone like you feels fundamentally wrong to everyone watching.

By tomorrow, half the school is probably going to know your name too.

Somi takes you up a stairwell. First floor, second floor, third floor. Down a corridor that gets progressively emptier. Past classrooms that are clearly in use, then past ones that aren't. The fluorescent lights up here flicker intermittently. One of the ceiling tiles has a water stain shaped like Florida.

"Somi. What do you want so badly that you had to physically drag me across the building."

"It's just a favor," she says over her shoulder.

And there it is. That word again. Favor. The exact same word Asa used yesterday at your table in the library, right before she dropped the most insane proposition you’d ever heard in your life. Suddenly the pieces line up perfectly in your head. They know each other. Asa and Somi. Same friend group. Same social circle. Same weird fucking challenge.

Yesterday it was Asa. Today it’s Somi.

You stop walking and pull your hand free from her grip. She turns around, annoyed, "What?!"

"This is about that challenge. The Twitter thing."

Somi stares at you for a beat. "You know about it?"

"I'm familiar, yeah."

"Great. So I don't need to waste time explaining." She folds her arms under her chest, drawing your attention exactly where she probably expects it to go. “Are you in?”

"Why me specifically?"

"Because you're the most pathetic looking guy on this campus." She says it without a shred of hesitation or remorse. "But you're also decent enough that I wouldn't gag just from touching your dick. That's a narrow window, and congratulations, you fit through it."

"That's the worst compliment anyone has ever given me."

"It wasn't a compliment." The two of you are standing outside a classroom at the very end of the corridor. A laminated sign taped to the door reads CLOSED FOR MAINTENANCE.

"This is where you picked," you say, looking at the sign. "A room that's closed for maintenance."

"Nobody will come in here. It's been shut for two weeks."

"A ceiling panel could literally fall on our heads."

"It's not going to." She pushes the handle and the door swings open. "Stop making excuses and get in."

You step into the classroom. The room is dim, lit only by thin strips of sunlight slipping through the blinds along the far wall. Desks have been shoved aside in crooked rows, and dust drifts lazily through the light. Half-erased equations still cover the whiteboard, leftovers from whatever class used this room last. And at the front of the room, perched casually on the professor’s desk, is a girl you’ve seen around campus but never spoken to. She has a pretty, sculpted face, big round eyes and dark hair with faint highlights catching the light. She's wearing an oversized cream colored sweater and a plaid skirt; the whole look makes her seem way too cozy and cute for a place this depressing.

She sneezes violently out of nowhere.

“Somi!” she groans, rubbing at her nose. “This room is disgusting. I’ve been here fifteen minutes and I’m pretty sure I’ve developed lung disease.”

"Stop being dramatic, Chae. A little dust never killed anyone." She closes the door behind you and strides further into the room. She motions between you and the girl on the desk like she’s hosting introductions at some awkward social event. “This is the guy I was talking about. Nerd boy, meet Chaeyoung. Chaeyoung, meet nerd boy.”

Chaeyoung hops down from the desk, landing lightly on her sneakers. She’s almost the same height as Somi, though Somi still has a couple inches on her. "I've seen you around before," she says. "You're usually in the library, right? Or sitting by the fountain near the engineering building."

"Yeah, that's my usual orbit."

"We've never actually spoken, though." She extends her hand. "I'm Chaeyoung. Lee Chaeyoung."

You shake it. Her grip is gentle, her palm warm. "Nice to meet you."

"Nice to meet you too."

Finally, you think. Someone with basic social skills and a functioning sense of decency. You glance between the two of them. They're both wearing a noticeable amount of makeup. Chaeyoung has this soft, glowy look, peachy tones and delicate details. Somi went heavier. Contoured cheekbones, defined brows, lips glossed to a mirror finish. They look like they're ready for a photoshoot, not a afternoon on the third floor of a building with water stained ceiling tiles.

"Great," Somi announces, clapping her hands once. "Now that we all know each other and we've done the little handshake thing, let's record."

You lean against one of the pushed aside desks. "Can I ask what the point of this is? Genuinely. What do either of you gain from recording this?"

"Likes," Somi says immediately. "Followers. Engagement. Clout. Take your pick."

"And that's worth it?"

"We don't care what you think. It's none of your business what we do with the video." She crosses her arms. "You're here to provide a service. That's it."

Chaeyoung shifts her weight, tugging at the cuff of her oversized sweater. "I almost gave up on the whole thing, honestly. I know it's kind of crazy. Like, objectively, this is insane behavior."

"It is insane behavior," you confirm.

"But she's here now," Somi cuts in, putting her arm around Chaeyoung's shoulders. "And she is not backing down. Right, Chae?"

"Right. Yeah. I'm here. I'm doing it."

Somi turns her attention back to you, her eyes narrowing slightly. "Speaking of which. Your dick. Is it at least big? Because I swear to god, if I dragged you up three flights of stairs and you pull out a micropenis, I will be furious."

"It's decent."

"Decent, huh? That's exactly what guys say when they have a tiny cock. Every single time. 'It's decent.' 'It gets the job done.' And then you pull their pants down and it's like finding a AA battery in a sock."

"That's a very specific image. Sounds like you're speaking from experience."

"Don't test me right now."

Chaeyoung steps forward, putting herself slightly between you and Somi. "Can you stop being so mean to him? He's already doing us a favor by agreeing to this. The least you can do is be civil."

Somi rolls her eyes with her entire body. Her head tilts back, her shoulders drop, her hands fly up. "Please. Look at him, Chae. Look at this guy. He has never received a blowjob in his life. We are going to be the first people to ever touch his dick. He should be on his knees thanking us for the privilege."

"That's not true," you say. "I've had sex before."

"Sure you have."

"I'm serious. I actually got a blowjob yesterday."

Both of them look at you. Chaeyoung with genuine curiosity. Somi with theatrical disbelief. "Oh, really?" Somi takes a step closer, tilting her head. "Who gave you a blowjob yesterday? Name and surname, please."

The name almost leaves your mouth. It sits right there on the tip of your tongue, ready to go. And for a split second you consider it, because telling Somi that her friend already used you for this exact challenge would probably create enough chaos to shut this whole thing down. Asa mentioned that every girl had to pick a different guy. If Somi finds out she's not the first, that Asa already had you, she'd lose her mind.

Better to keep that card in your back pocket.

"It's personal," you say.

Somi stares at you for two full seconds, then turns to Chaeyoung. "See? Obvious lie. He panicked and couldn't even make up a name." She points at a chair near the center of the room. "Now sit over there."

You grab your backpack, drop it in the corner by the door, and sit in the chair she indicated. It's one of those standard classroom chairs with the little desk arm attached, but you push the arm out of the way and settle in. Somi is already moving around the room, scouting angles. She finds a spot on a shelf near the whiteboard, props her phone against a stack of old textbooks, and adjusts the lean until she's satisfied with the frame.

"The phone stays here,” she explains, tapping the screen. “It'll get both of us in the shot."

"Professional setup,” you say.

"I don't do amateur." She walks back toward you, Chaeyoung falling into step beside her. "Here's how this works. It's simple. The goal is for us to get facefucked until our makeup is ruined. That's the whole point of the trend. Cute face goes in, wrecked face comes out. So you need to not cum in thirty seconds like some premature disaster. Hold it together until our makeup is properly smudged. Can you manage that?"

"I think I can handle it," you say.

Somi raises an eyebrow. "You think?"

"... I'll handle it," you correct.

She nods once and starts heading toward the phone to hit record, but you lift a hand.

"Wait. One thing."

She stops and turns. "What now?"

"Can you show me your tits? Just... help me out a little. Get things moving."

The look she gives you is lethal. You're genuinely not sure if she's about to slap you or walk out. "You're such a pervert."

"You're about to do all this for Twitter likes. I don't think I'm the only pervert in this room.”

Chaeyoung lets out a laugh, immediately stifled behind her hand. Somi shoots her a look and Chaeyoung straightens her face, pressing her lips together.

"Fine," Somi mutters, then reaches back and taps the record button on her phone. She walks back over to you, stops right in front of your chair, and shrugs off her jacket with way more force than necessary, tossing it onto the floor. Then, without hesitation, she grabs the hem of her top and pulls it over her head in one smooth motion. She'd been going braless this whole time.

And her breasts are genuinely, absurdly large. Full and round on her narrow frame, heavy enough to bounce slightly from the motion of pulling her top off. Her skin is smooth, even toned, her nipples a soft pink against the pale expanse.

She stands there with her hands on her hips, topless and defiant. "Happy now, pervert?"

Chaeyoung is pulling at the collar of her cream sweater, fanning herself. "God, it really is hot in here. No ventilation at all." She tugs the sweater over her head and folds it neatly, setting it on a desk. Underneath she's wearing a simple white bra. Her chest is small, barely filling the cups, her collarbones delicate and pronounced above the band.

The contrast is staggering. Somi's huge, bare breasts next to Chaeyoung's petite frame in her little white bra. The tall, aggressive blonde towering over the soft, nervous brunette. Both of them in front of you, half undressed, in a locked classroom on the third floor of a building nobody visits.

Your cock is hard. Fully, uncomfortably hard, straining against the front of your jeans. There's no hiding it and you don't try. "Okay," Somi says, her eyes dropping to your lap for a fraction of a second. "Let's begin."

She kneels in front of the chair. Chaeyoung follows, settling on her knees to Somi's right. Somi's hands go to your belt, her long fingers working the buckle with efficiency. She yanks your jeans down your thighs with both hands, and your boxers come with them. She doesn't bother with the slow reveal. She pulls everything to your ankles in one sharp tug and your cock springs free, slapping against your stomach, thick and fully hard.

Somi stops. Her hands are still on the bunched fabric at your knees. Her eyes are locked on your cock. Her lips part, just slightly, and you watch her throat move as she swallows. "What the fuck," she mutters.

Chaeyoung, kneeling beside her, has gone completely still. Her mouth is open. Her eyes are wide. She's staring at your cock the way people stare at car accidents. Unable to look away, unable to process what she's seeing.

"Okay, that's..." She cuts herself off and stares for another second. "No. Hold on… That is actually the biggest dick I've ever seen in my entire life." She looks back up at you. "I'm being serious.”

Somi recovers. She flips her hair over one shoulder and wraps her fingers around the base. They don't close. Her fingertips fall about a centimeter short of her thumb.

"Well," she says, tone forcibly casual. "At least you won't embarrass us in the video."

"That's all you have to say?" Chaeyoung is still gaping. "Somi, look at this thing."

"I'm looking at it. I'm literally holding it. Stop acting like you've never seen a cock."

"Not one like this."

Somi starts stroking. Slow, tight pulls from base to tip, her grip adjusting to accommodate the girth. Her palm is slick with nothing but her own sweat and it's not enough, so she leans forward and spits. A thick, glossy string that lands on the shaft and she spreads it with her fist, twisting on the upstroke. Chaeyoung reaches out tentatively and wraps her smaller hand around the shaft just below Somi's. Her fingers look even more inadequate against the thickness. She strokes in tandem, following Somi's rhythm, and you can see the fascination on her face. She's studying your cock like it's a specimen, tilting her head, watching the way the veins pulse under her fingers.

"I literally do not know how I'm going to fit this in my mouth," Chaeyoung says quietly.

"The harder it is to take, the hotter it'll look on camera," Somi says, pumping steadily. "Trust me. You're gonna look amazing struggling with it. Just try not to throw up on his cock. I'm not doing another take because your gag reflex decided to betray us."

Chaeyoung immediately scrunches up her face. "Ew. Why would you even say that?"

"Because I'm thinking ahead.”

You lean back in the chair, watching both of their hands work your shaft. "Somi, quick suggestion: instead of talking about vomit, maybe switch gears and give me a titjob. Feels a lot more productive.”

Somi's head snaps up. "Who do you think you are? Asking me for a titjob? This isn't about your pleasure, this is about our content. You have no rights here. You're a prop."

Chaeyoung glances between you and Somi. "Actually, that would look really good on camera,” you explain.

"Excuse me?"

"Think about it," you say, keeping your tone light, reasonable. "Your tits wrapped around my cock, all wet and shiny with spit. Glistening in the light. That's premium content. The timeline would lose their minds."

"God, fine!” Somi snaps. "But only because it'll look good. Not because you asked." She shifts forward on her knees, positioning herself between your legs. She grabs your cock and angles it straight up, then presses her breasts together around the shaft.

The visual is pornographic: your thick cock disappearing into the soft, warm valley of her massive tits, the head poking out from the top of her cleavage on every upstroke. "Chae, spit on it," she orders.

Chaeyoung leans in and spits on the head of your cock, a neat string that drips down the shaft and into Somi's cleavage. Somi starts moving, sliding her breasts up and down, using her hands to press them tight around you. The friction is insane. Warm and slick and pillowy, her soft skin squeezing your girth from both sides.

She finds her rhythm, bouncing her tits on your cock with smooth rolls of her torso. More spit from Chaeyoung. More from Somi herself, leaning down to drool on your shaft before pressing it back between her breasts. The saliva mixes with the thin sheen of sweat building on her skin, and soon her entire chest is glistening, your cock sliding effortlessly through the slick channel.

"There," Somi says, watching the head of your cock emerge from her cleavage on each upstroke. "Happy now?"

"Extremely."

"Enjoy it. This is the only titjob you'll ever get from these." She works you for another minute, her breasts bouncing and jiggling with each motion, wet and gleaming in the dusty light filtering through the blinds. Your cock throbs between them, flushed and leaking, leaving trails of precum that mix with the saliva coating her skin. Eventually Somi pulls back, her breasts separating from your shaft with a slick sound.

"Okay. Enough warmup. Time for the real thing." She grabs your cock and angles it toward her face. "Don't go easy on me. I can handle whatever you've got."

You put your hand on the back of her head. Blonde hair, silky and thick between your fingers. You pull her forward and your cock slides past her glossy lips, stretching them wide. Somi takes half of you on the first push, her jaw straining around the girth, and you feel her throat clench as you hit the back of her mouth. You pull back, then push again, deeper. Her eyes water but she doesn't flinch. She grabs your thighs and braces herself, and you start fucking her face with real momentum.

Somi is aggressive even when she's the one being used. She pushes back against your thrusts, trying to take more, making these low grunting sounds in her throat every time you bottom out. Spit builds fast, coating your shaft in thick, frothy ropes that drip from her chin onto her bare chest. Her lipgloss is the first casualty, smearing in wide, shiny streaks across her cheeks and along your cock.

You pull out and she gasps, spit hanging from her lower lip in long strings. "Harder," she demands. "Come on, nerd. That's all you've got?"

You grab a fistful of her hair and shove her back down. Harder this time. Faster. The slapping of her lips meeting your pelvis fills the classroom, wet and rhythmic and obscene. Her mascara starts to run. Dark streaks bleeding from the corners of her eyes, tracking down her cheekbones. Her contour, her foundation, all of it softening and smudging under the assault of spit and tears.

You pull out of Somi's mouth and angle your cock toward Chaeyoung. She's been kneeling beside Somi this whole time, watching with flushed cheeks and parted lips, her hands resting on her thighs. "Your turn," you say.

Chaeyoung takes a breath and opens her mouth. You guide yourself in gently, slower than you did with Somi. Her lips stretch around the head and she whimpers, high and soft, her brow creasing as the girth fills her mouth. You push in a few inches and feel her gag, her throat tightening, her hands flying to your hips.

You stop. Let her adjust. She breathes through her nose, her eyes squeezed shut, and then nods slightly. You push again, easing into a shallow rhythm, just the first half of your shaft sliding between her stretched lips. She's struggling. Her jaw isn't built for this. But she's trying, god is she trying, her tongue working the underside of your cock, her lips sealed tight despite the strain.

"Relax your throat," Somi coaches from beside her. "Stop fighting it. Let him in." Chaeyoung adjusts her angle, tilting her chin up, and on the next stroke you slide an inch deeper. She gags again but pushes through it, her fingers gripping your thighs, her eyes watering. The peachy blush on her cheeks is bleeding, her subtle eye makeup starting to track.

You alternate. A minute in Somi's mouth, rough and fast, her mascara running in black rivers while she glares up at you with those defiant eyes. Then a minute in Chaeyoung's, slower, gentler, watching her struggle and adapt and gradually take more of you. Between rounds, they lick your cock together. Somi on one side, Chaeyoung on the other, their tongues meeting at the tip in a messy, overlapping tangle. Chaeyoung giggles when their lips brush. Somi pretends she doesn't notice.

Somi grabs the back of Chaeyoung's head suddenly, fingers tangling in her dark hair, and pushes her down on your cock.

"Deeper," Somi orders. "Don't be a pussy about it. Take it." Chaeyoung's eyes go wide and she gags hard as your cock hits the back of her throat, but Somi holds her there, keeps her down. You feel Chaeyoung's throat spasm around the head of your cock and her fingers dig into your thighs. Somi eases up after a few seconds and Chaeyoung pulls off gasping, a thick web of spit connecting her lips to your shaft.

"See?" Somi says. "You can take it. You just needed a push."

"You're crazy," Chaeyoung breathes. But she's smiling.

She leans back in, licking along the shaft, and takes you into her mouth again on her own terms. Deeper. More confident. Her eyes find yours and stay there, glassy and adoring. Then Somi pushes Chaeyoung aside and swallows your cock to the base. All of it. Her nose pressing into your pelvis, her throat bulging, her eyes rolling back for just a second before she catches herself. She holds you there, breathing through her nose in sharp bursts, then pulls off and jacks you with both hands.

"Fuck," Somi mutters, staring at your cock. "Why does your stupid dick feel so good in my throat." She says it like she's genuinely annoyed about it.

You fuck her face until her foundation is gone entirely, until the careful contour is just a memory and her cheeks are flushed and raw and wet with tears and spit. You fuck Chaeyoung's face until her peachy blush is smeared sideways and her mascara has bled into dark smudges beneath her lashes. They take turns. They share. They kiss each other around the head of your cock, their ruined lips meeting in sloppy, wet passes, tasting each other and tasting you.

The pressure in your stomach is winding tight. The balls deep thrusts into Somi's willing throat, the sweet suction of Chaeyoung's eager mouth, the visual of two beautiful, wrecked girls on their knees fighting over your cock. You won't last.

"I'm close," you tell them.

Somi pulls off immediately, gripping the base of your cock with one hand. "On our faces. Stand up."

You stand. Your legs are shaky but you manage. Somi and Chaeyoung press their cheeks together, kneeling side by side in front of you, looking up. You stroke your cock over their faces. Fast, tight pulls, your fist slick with the accumulated spit of both their mouths. Somi's hand comes up and wraps around yours, helping you pump, her eyes locked on the head of your cock inches from her face.

And then you cum. The first shot catches Somi across the bridge of her nose and her right cheek, a thick white rope that clings to her skin and starts to drip. She flinches and then holds still, jaw clenched, taking it. The second hits her forehead and tracks into her hairline. The third you aim at Chaeyoung, a long, heavy streak from her eyebrow down across her cheek to the corner of her open mouth. She gasps, her tongue darting out to catch what landed on her lips, and she moans.

More. A fourth shot across Chaeyoung's nose, landing on Somi's cheek where their faces are pressed together. A fifth that paints Chaeyoung's chin in a thick, dripping coat. A sixth, weaker, that drips from the tip of your cock onto Somi's chest, landing between her glistening breasts.

Chaeyoung is glowing, cum splattered across her flushed face and dripping down to her collarbone. She's smiling like she means it. Genuine and gorgeous. She licks the mess off her lips and laughs, breathless and bubbly, like getting painted with your load is the highlight of her day.

Somi wipes cum out of her right eye and stares at the evidence stringing between her fingers. "Okay," she admits, chest still heaving. "That was pretty fucking hot.”

She stands, crosses to the shelf where her phone is propped, and brings it close to their faces. She angles the screen so the camera captures both of them in tight frame. Glazed, ruined, beautiful. "Say goodbye," Somi tells Chaeyoung.

Chaeyoung waves at the lens with her fingers, cum still webbed between them. Then Somi turns Chaeyoung's face toward hers and kisses her. Soft, brief, their cum smeared lips pressing together and pulling apart with a slick sound. Both of them grinning when it's done.

"That turned out great," she announces, scrubbing through the footage. "The angle caught everything. The titjob, both of us choking, the facial, the kiss. This is premium content."

Chaeyoung wipes her cheek with the back of her hand and looks at you. "Thank you. Seriously. That was actually really fun."

"Anytime," you say, pulling your boxers and jeans back up.

Somi goes to her bag, pulling out wet wipes and a compact mirror. She starts cleaning her face with brisk, efficient motions, checking her reflection between each pass. Chaeyoung walks up to you while Somi is distracted. She's still got traces of cum on her jaw and she doesn't seem to care. She pulls out her phone.

"Can you follow me on Insta? I'd love to chat sometime. Outside of, you know, this whole situation."

You take out your phone. She tells you her handle and you type it in. Her page loads. Aesthetic photos, cute selfies, pictures of coffee and cats. You hit follow.

"I'll text you tonight," she promises. "For real. Not just saying that."

"I believe you."

Somi's reflection catches Chaeyoung in the mirror. "Chae, you know you're way too pretty for him, right? You could do so much better."

Chaeyoung rolls her eyes. "Don't listen to her. She's like that with literally every person on the planet."

"I'm used to the type," you say.

Somi snaps her compact shut. "Okay, we're done here. You can leave now. We don't need you anymore. Go study or whatever it is you do."

You grab your backpack from the corner, sling it over your shoulder. Chaeyoung gives you a little wave, her fingers wiggling, that warm smile still on her face. You wave back.

"Bye, nerd," Somi calls without looking up from her phone.

You push through the heavy door and step into the empty hallway, adjusting your glasses and shifting your backpack as you start toward the stairs. Behind you, through the closed door, you can still hear Chaeyoung complaining about the dust.

Two days. Two separate encounters. Two groups of gorgeous girls actively searching for you because of the same completely insane Twitter challenge. At this point, you're not even questioning it anymore.

This is very quickly becoming the best week of your life. And, to be honest, you’re more than ready to see how much weirder it gets.

—

The lecture hall slowly empties around you while you're still shoving your laptop into your bag. Your phone vibrates against the desk. Instagram DM. Chaeyoung. Her name appears with the little sparkle emoji from her profile, and you catch yourself smiling.

hey! how was class? hope ur not dying of boredom 🥲

You type back as you walk into the corridor. The conversation flows easier than you expected. She tells you about her morning, complains about her statistics professor, asks what you're studying. You mention you've been into a sci fi book lately and it turns out she's read it twice. She sends a screenshot of her bookshelf and half the titles are ones you own. The exchange feels weirdly normal. Like she's a person, not the girl who was on her knees beside Somi yesterday with cum dripping off her chin.

Then a notification slides down from the top of your screen.

Instagram DM. Huh_Yunjin.

You stop walking in the middle of the hallway.

hey 🤍 you free rn?

You open the DM and instantly do what literally anyone would do. You tap her profile. Black and white profile pic. Dark lipstick. Looking unfairly good for no reason. Almost a million followers. Yeah. That tracks. You scroll a little. Pictures that somehow survive Instagram moderation by the smallest possible margin. Sheer tops. Suspicious camera angles. Captions written like ongoing jokes between her and her followers. A tiny link in her bio leads exactly where you'd expect.

You know what this is about. You'd have to be brain dead not to. You reply:

wyd?

wanna give you a little something. trust me, you’re not gonna regret it

where r u

the theater room. building C, the big one with the stage. place is empty rn. just me. come find me 😈

how do i know this isn't some prank

Typing dots. Gone. She gives up on whatever she was typing. Then an Instagram notification slides onto your screen.

Photo • View Once.

Yunjin is in front of a full length mirror backstage somewhere, phone angled to catch herself in profile. Her plaid skirt is bunched up around her hips. No panties. The curve of her ass is right there, the dip of her lower back, one hand lifting the fabric to show you everything. A cropped top that barely contains her. Heels. Her face turned slightly toward the camera with a smirk that says she does this kind of thing on Tuesdays for fun.

The photo disappears. A new message pops up almost immediately.

does that seriously look like a prank? been watching you for a while you're cute i'm interested. but hurry up. i'm not sitting here waiting all day

omw🏃

You shove your phone in your pocket and start walking faster.

Building C is across the quad. You take the path behind the library, the longer one, less foot traffic. Halfway there you stop and dig into the small zippered pocket of your backpack. A little plastic bag, sealed tight, three gummies left inside. Small, innocent looking, red and shaped like cartoon bears. You bought a whole bulk order after that stream went viral last year. The one with the two streamers who lost their minds on camera. You only tuned in because Hyeju was supposed to make a guest appearance, and you stayed because, well, the clips that came out of that night are still floating around the seedier corners of Twitter for a reason.

You pop one into your mouth and bite down. Sweet. Faint chemical aftertaste. You feel it start to dissolve under your tongue.

This thing is going to load your balls up like you've been edging for a week. The first time you tried one you came so much you genuinely thought something was wrong with you. Now you keep them around for special occasions, mostly solo sessions, but lately the universe has been throwing special occasions at you like it owes you back pay.

Four girls in three days. All from the same circle. This whole hot little clique of certified sluts is going through you like a relay race, and you're still undecided on whether that should hurt your pride or massively inflate your ego.

You push through the theater doors and lock them behind you with the inside latch. The auditorium is dark. Rows of empty seats descending toward the stage, which is lit warm and amber by the work lights overhead. You walk down the center aisle, your sneakers quiet on the carpet.

"Are you sure this is a safe place for this," you call out as you reach the stairs leading up to the stage.

A figure straightens up from behind one of the prop tables near the back of the stage. She steps into the warm pool of light, and yeah. Okay.

Yunjin in person is something else.

Tall. Legs that go forever, made even longer by the black heels strapped around her ankles. The plaid skirt from the photo, riding high on her thighs. A black crop top with thin straps, her stomach toned and bare, the slight curve of her chest visible underneath. Her hair is blonde. Freshly done, by the look of it, that bright platinum that catches every bit of stage light. Full pouty lips painted a glossy plum that's already smudged slightly at one corner. Sharp eyes. Mischief lives in them.

"My friend works here," she says, stopping a step away from you. "She runs lighting for the drama department. She told me the building is dead until evening rehearsal. We've got at least an hour, probably more." She looks you up and down, slow, taking inventory. "I'm glad you actually showed up."

"You called me."

"I did call you." She grins. "Not gonna do the whole introduction thing because everyone here knows who I am. Let's save the time. There's this Twitter challenge going around right now. Me and my girls all jumped on it. The premise is pretty simple. I need to get absolutely ruined on camera by a guy who looks exactly like you." Her hands come up and find the collar of your shirt, fingers playing with the fabric. "You're perfect for this," she tells you. "Glasses, the messy hair, the whole shy genius thing. I clocked you in the cafeteria last week. You were mumbling to yourself about some equation, and I thought, yeah. Him. Definitely him."

"I've heard about the challenge."

Her eyebrows lift. "Oh, really?"

"Word gets around." You hold her gaze. "I'm in."

"Smart boy." Her hand drops from your collar and slides down your chest, your stomach, and lands square on the front of your jeans. She squeezes lightly. "Oh, look at this. You're already hard. Is that for me?"

"That picture would make a dead man hard."

She laughs, head tipped back, her throat exposed. "Listen to you. I expected some stuttering little nerd, all sweaty palms and broken sentences. You're way more confident than I gave you credit for."

Your hands find her waist. She's warm under your palms, her skin smooth where your thumbs rest against her bare stomach. You let one hand slide down and around, palming the curve of her ass through the skirt. Squeezing. It's even better than the photo suggested. Thick and full and firm under your fingers.

"Mm." She presses into your hand. "Yeah, okay. You can definitely keep doing that." She squeezes your cock through your jeans again, harder this time, mapping out the shape of you. Her grin widens. "Wait. Hold on." She squeezes again. "What are you packing under here? This feels promising."

"You'll find out."

"I'm finding out right now, apparently." She leans her face close to yours, plum lips almost brushing your mouth. "This video is gonna be way better than I planned. I was expecting cute and mid. This is feeling more like cute and dangerous."

"I'll do my best."

"Yeah? Tell me what you're gonna do."

"I'm going to make you gag on it until you can't talk straight. I want to see you wrecked. Drooling on yourself. Huh Yunjin choking on my cock until your makeup is in your lap."

"Fuck yes. That's the energy." She closes the distance and kisses you.

She kisses like she's trying to eat you alive. Plum gloss smearing, tongue immediately in your mouth, both hands fisting the front of your shirt and pulling you against her. You back her up two steps until she hits the prop table behind her, and your hands are everywhere. Up her sides, palming the soft swell of her chest through that thin top, down to grab two handfuls of her ass and pull her tight against you. She rolls her hips into your bulge and groans into your mouth.

You make out for what feels like a while. Long enough that you're both breathing hard, her gloss completely gone from her lips and smudged across yours, her hair mussed where your fingers tangled in it. She pulls back, panting. "Okay. Okay, let's actually do this before I get carried away and just ride you in a folding chair." She steps out of your reach. "I'm gonna get undressed."

"All the way?"

"All the way." She's already reaching back to unzip the skirt. "If we're doing this, we're doing it properly. None of this half clothed business. I want my whole body in frame."

She undresses without an ounce of self consciousness. The skirt drops to the floor and she steps out of it. The crop top comes off over her head and her hair tumbles back down around her shoulders. Just heels left. She stands there in the warm stage light, completely bare, hands on her hips, watching you watch her.

She is staggering. Toned legs flowing up into thick thighs that gap at the top. Her ass round and full behind her. Her chest is small, soft, her nipples pierced with delicate silver bars catching the light. A subtle line of definition down her stomach. Her plum lips swollen from the kissing, her eye makeup still mostly intact, sharp and dark.

"Well," she says, doing a slow turn for you. "What's the verdict, professor?"

"You're perfect."

"Correct answer." She picks up her phone from the table, taps it into camera mode, and hands it to you. "Don't drop it. And try to keep me in frame, but don't worry about being artsy. The chaos is the point." She sinks down to her knees on the wooden stage floor, looking up at you. The amber lights catch her hair and turn it almost gold. She tilts her head, smirks, runs her tongue slowly along her lower lip. "Alright, babe. Let's see what we're working with."

Her hands settle on the front of your pants.

Yunjin’s fingers slip beneath the waistband of your pants with an ease that makes it immediately clear this isn’t new territory for her. And definitely not the weirdest place she’s done it. She keeps looking up at you while she works the button open, her glossy lips curved in that teasing little smile, blonde hair falling over one shoulder as she tugs the zipper down.

“You’re trying so hard to look calm,” she says, amused, her knuckles brushing the hard outline of you through your underwear. “It’s cute. I can feel your dick jumping every time I touch you.”

“You’re naked on your knees in front of me,” you answer. “I’d be more worried if I looked calm.”

She laughs under her breath and pulls your pants down with your underwear in one smooth motion. Your cock springs out hard, heavy, already leaking precum from the kissing and the gummy spreading heat through your veins. Yunjin actually goes silent. You watch the reaction hit in stages. First surprise. Eyes widening. Taking a second look. Then comes the grin. Slow, filthy, pure excitement.

“Oh my god,” she says, sitting back on her heels. “No fucking way.”

You glance down at her, trying not to grin too much. “Still think I’m just cute and dorky?”

“Shut up, I’m processing.” She wraps one hand around the base, and her fingers don’t close all the way. That makes her smile wider. “I knew it. I fucking knew it. Quiet guys are always hiding something evil in their pants. This might be the biggest dick I’ve ever had in my mouth, and I’m not even saying that to boost your nerd ego.”

“That’s a pretty strong review.”

“I have experience. My review matters.” She strokes once, slow, her thumb dragging along the underside. “Jesus. It’s not even just long. It’s fat. Like, I’m gonna feel personally disrespected by my own jaw in ten minutes.”

She leans in and spits directly onto the head, letting the saliva slide down before she spreads it with her palm. Her hand moves over you with immediate ease, slicking you up, twisting around the ridge, cupping the head, rubbing the wetness down the shaft until your cock gleams under the stage lights. She watches the shine build with open appreciation.

“Pretty,” she murmurs, smiling to herself before lightly tapping your cock against her cheek. Once. Then again. Soft little smacks against skin. She tilts her head, looking way too pleased. “Jesus. Look at this thing.” Her grin widens. “This is absolutely gonna ruin me.”

She drags the underside over her lips, leaving a wet smear of saliva and precum across the plum gloss. Her mouth opens slightly, tongue slipping out to trace the swollen head. She gives you one slow lick, then kisses the tip like she’s flirting with it, her eyes staying locked on yours the whole time.

“You know what’s dangerous?” she says, rubbing your cock along her lower lip. “I can already tell I’m gonna be stupid about this. I’m supposed to make a cute little challenge video and go home, but this dick looks like it could ruin my plans for the week.”

“You’ve barely started.”

“I know. That’s the problem.” She opens her mouth wider and lets the head rest on her tongue. “I’m excited.” Then she takes you in.

The first slide into her mouth is hot, wet, and far too smooth for something that should be difficult. Her lips stretch around the girth, glossy and plush, sealing tight as she sinks lower. You feel her tongue flatten beneath you, guiding the shaft in a practiced line, easing the thickness over the middle of her tongue and toward the back of her throat. She doesn’t rush. She doesn’t panic. She makes room.

You swear under your breath when she takes more than half of you on the first try. Yunjin hums around your cock, pleased with the reaction, and pulls up slowly until only the head remains between her lips. Her cheeks hollow, suction tightening in a way that nearly makes your knees buckle. She swirls her tongue around the ridge, collects the slickness gathering there, then sinks down again, deeper this time, both hands on your thighs for balance.

Yeah, okay. She absolutely knows what she’s doing. There’s skill in the way she moves, not just enthusiasm. She angles her head to take the girth without scraping teeth. She uses her tongue constantly, dragging it along the underside, pressing into the sensitive strip beneath the head whenever she pulls back. Her lips never loosen. Every inch of you gets attention, and when she reaches the point where most girls would stop, she relaxes her jaw, breathes through her nose, and keeps going.

Your cock hits the back of her throat. She gags once, barely, more like her body acknowledging the size than refusing it. Her hands squeeze your thighs. Her eyes flutter, watery already, but she forces another inch down until her lips are close to the base. Then, with a slow, obscene determination, she swallows around you and noses against your pelvis.

“Fuck,” you say, because there isn’t anything smarter available in your brain.

She pulls off with a slick gasp, saliva stretching from her mouth to your cock before breaking across her chin. Her lips are swollen and wet, the plum gloss already smeared beyond repair. “See?” she says, breathing hard but grinning. “Made for it.”

“You weren’t exaggerating.”

“I never exaggerate about head. That’s sacred.” She strokes you in one hand while the other drops to your balls, cupping them with a reverence that surprises you. Her eyes lower. “Oh, these are heavy. What the hell are you feeding them?”

“Would you believe gummy bears?”

She looks up sharply, amused. “Don’t joke with me while I’m worshipping your balls.”

“I’m not joking.”

She studies your face for a second, then laughs. “You’re weird. I like it.” Her fingers roll your balls gently, feeling the weight, her tongue slipping out to lick along the base of your shaft. “These are going to make an insane mess of me, aren’t they?”

“That’s the plan.”

“That better be a promise.” She bends lower and takes one of your balls into her mouth, lips sealing around it, tongue moving with slow, wet attention. Her hand keeps stroking your cock while she sucks gently, then switches to the other, giving it the same treatment. The stage lights catch every trail of saliva on her chin, every smudge of makeup beginning to soften around her mouth. She looks completely at home like this, naked, kneeling, eyes bright with hunger.

“You have no idea how hot this is,” she says between kisses along your shaft. “Your cock is stupid big, your balls are full, and you look like you still think this is a weird dream you’re gonna wake up from.”

"It’s crossed my mind, yeah.”

“Don’t wake up. I’m not done being a slut for you.” She goes back down on you, more aggressive now. Her hand grips the base while her mouth works the upper half, fast and wet, tongue flicking, lips dragging, throat opening whenever she decides to take you deep. She alternates between worship and hunger, kissing your shaft, licking the veins, spitting on it again when she wants more slickness, rubbing the mess over you with her palm before swallowing you down.

Your phone stays in your hand, recording, the frame centered on her face. It catches everything. The way her lips stretch around you. The way her eyes lift to the lens whenever she takes you deep. The slow collapse of her makeup. Plum lipstick smeared across her chin, mascara damp at the corners, saliva slipping down her neck and onto the small rise of her chest.

She pulls off, panting, and slaps the head of your cock against her tongue twice before rubbing it over her lips. “I’m getting attached,” she says, almost accusatory. “That’s so unfair. You show up with this fat thing and expect me to act normal after?”

"You invited me."

"Yeah, and now this cock is mine. I'm calling dibs." She plants another wet kiss on the tip, then smiles up at you from below with spit running down her chin and eyes half-lidded from sheer arousal.

Yunjin leans in and swallows you deep again, this time she doesn't pull back when her throat tightens, the discomfort is part of the pleasure, swallowing repeatedly, forcing herself to adjust, her eyes watering harder, completely red now. You feel the muscles contracting around your cock, feel her body working to accept every inch. You watch as her thighs press together beneath her, the shine between them highlighted by the overhead stage lights when she shifts.

"Fuck, you're soaked," you groan.

She pulls off just enough to speak, lips still brushing the head. "Obviously I am. Do you have any idea what it's like having this monster prying my mouth open? My pussy's been dripping since I saw it." Her hand slides between her legs for one quick touch, collecting the proof of just how much of a slut she is, then she shows the wet shine on her fingers to the camera with a shameless smile.

"See? Your fault." She licks her own fingers making an obscene sound that makes your cock throb, then looks up at you. "Okay. I want it now."

"Want what?"

Her smile turns wicked. "Don't play dumb. Grab my hair and use my throat. I've been nice to your dick. Now ruin me for the video. Fuck my face, I know you're dying to do it."

"Alright, since you insist." Your free hand slides into her blonde hair, gripping close to the scalp. Yunjin opens her mouth immediately, tongue out, waiting, that look of a bitch in heat as deliberate as it is involuntary. You guide her forward and push your cock between her lips. Yunjin accepts the first thrust with a deep inhale through her nose, then braces her hands against your thighs.

You start hard right away. There's no need to build a rhythm when you already know what Huh Yunjin is capable of. Your thrusts are deep, each one pressing into her throat, nothing brutal yet but firm enough that her body has to be actively working to keep from gagging badly on your cock. Her eyes start watering again. Her lips stretch around you, swollen and slick. Saliva spills from the corners of her mouth almost immediately, pooling under her chin before dripping onto her chest.

Yunjin takes it beautifully.

The more you give her, the more alive she looks. She doesn't retreat from the roughness. She leans forward, seeking more force, gripping your thighs and letting you control the angle while she focuses on relaxing her throat around every thrust. A professional cocksucker, indeed. Your cock slides in and out of her mouth with wet sounds that echo louder and louder across the vastness of the theater, the camera catching her face coming undone in real time like a painting in the rain.

The lipstick is no longer neat, smeared across her cheeks and your shaft, purple and red streaks mixing with spit. Her mascara begins to run in thin lines, and when Yunjin looks up at you through wet lashes, you see genuine happiness stamped across her ruined face; it's beautiful to witness such raw passion in simply being the biggest slut on campus.

"Fuck, Yunjin," you say, driving deeper. "You really can take it."

She tries to answer around your cock and only manages a garbled, eager sound. Her hands go to your hips, pulling you forward — a clear signal for you to pick up the pace. So you fuck her mouth harder. Your hips slam into her face, your hand holding her in place, and every deep thrust makes her throat bulge and clench. She gags, recovers, takes it again. Tears spill freely now, cutting through the makeup on her cheeks. Drool runs down her neck in thick streams, sliding over her collarbone, dripping onto her small breasts and leaving glossy trails across her nipples.

You pull out to let her breathe. She inhales sharply, laughs, and spits a filthy string of saliva onto your cock.

"That's it. That's the clip. Holy shit, keep going. We're making history. My pussy is literally dripping onto the stage right now. How do I look?"

"You already look completely ruined," you tell her. "In other words: pretty fucking hot."

"Good. Make it worse then." Yunjin rubs her cheek against your shaft, nuzzling affectionately like she has genuine fondness for the thing destroying her face. "This cock is too fucking good. I hate that I found you through a trend. I should've hunted you down weeks ago. My bad."

You push back into her mouth, and she takes you with that same hunger. Now the rhythm is getting rougher and less careful, driven by the gummy bear's effect creeping through your bloodstream. Your balls feel heavy, too full, aching with all the pressure, and Yunjin notices. Her hand reaches down to cup them while you fuck her throat, squeezing gently, rolling them between her fingers.

The rhythm is partially interrupted when you see her thighs starting to tremble. You notice a full-body tremor rolling through her before she finally locks up completely. Both hands clench around you, fingers digging in, her throat contracts hard around your cock in thick, rhythmic pulses. She's cumming. Unironically, she's cumming right there on her knees with your cock buried in her throat, cumming just from having a cock in her mouth. Her eyes blow wide, then roll back until only the whites are visible, lashes fluttering as tears cut down her ruined face. Her whole body shudders and her hips jerks against nothing. You've never seen anything this hot in your life.

When you pull back to let Yunjin breathe again, you ask: "Holy fuck, d-did you just cum?"

She slumps forward with forehead pressing against your thigh, laughing in these ragged, wrecked little gasps. "I told you I was a slut." She tilts her face up and there's mascara smeared everywhere, along with spit, tears, and pure satisfaction. "Don't act so surprised." She drags the back of her hand across her chin and only smears it worse. "A cock like that shoved down my throat? Yeah. That's what happens."

"That's, like, really insane."

"That's talent, babe. Now put it back." You do, of course, and she gives herself over with even less restraint. The next stretch is messy beyond any salvation. She alternates between taking full-on facefucking and pulling you out to worship the head, tongue circling, lips sucking hard, hands pumping the base. The dirty talk pours out nonstop whenever her mouth is free because she simply can't contain herself, and you love that about her.

"This is mine now," she says, pumping you with both hands. "I'm serious. You don't get to walk around campus with this fat cock pretending it's public property. I found it, I choked on it, I came from it, so I have rights."

"Okay so you're making legal claims now?"

"Sexual claims. Way more serious." She kisses your tip, leaving a ruined smear of lipstick and spit. "You know, I'm going to think about this in class from now on. I'm going to be sitting there pretending to take notes while remembering how your cock stretched my throat open.”

Your orgasm starts building for real, low and heavy, dragged out by the gummy until it feels almost too intense. Yunjin senses the shift and pulls off, wrapping both hands around your cock. Her grip is slick, fast, frantic, using all the spit coating you. “You close?”

“Yeah.”

“On my face,” she says instantly. “All over it. Don’t waste a drop anywhere boring. I want to look disgusting.”

She jerks you harder, her hands sliding from base to tip in quick, wet strokes. Her ruined face is right below the head of your cock, eyes locked on you, mouth open, tongue visible between glossy lips. “Come on,” she urges. “Make me pretty. Paint this slutty face. I want it in my hair, on my lips, down my neck. Give me that huge nerd load. I know you’ve got it.”

The pressure snaps. The first jet hits her cheekbone hard, thick and white, streaking toward her ear. Yunjin gasps, delighted, and doesn’t stop stroking you. The second shoots across her forehead and into the roots of her blonde hair. The third lands over her nose and upper lip, splattering hot across the smeared makeup. She laughs, breathless and amazed, pumping you faster. “Holy fuck,” she says. “There’s so much.”

More comes. Another heavy rope spills over her open mouth, coating her tongue before sliding down her chin. She tilts your cock with one hand, aiming the next burst at her neck, and it paints a thick line down her throat. She drags the head lower, still milking you, and more cum spurts across her collarbone and small breasts, catching on her nipples and dripping toward her stomach.

It keeps going. The gummy turns the orgasm into something ridiculous, relentless, your cock pulsing over and over while Yunjin works every contraction out of you. She aims you back at her face for the final spurts, letting them splatter across her lips and jaw, adding more white to the ruined plum and black makeup already smeared everywhere.

By the time the last weak pulse drips from the tip, she is covered. Face, neck, chest, the top of her stomach. Cum clings to her lashes, streaks through her hair, sits thick on her lips. She stares down at herself, stunned for half a second, then bursts into laughter.

“Oh my god,” she says, genuinely amazed. “What are you, a fucking fire hose?”

You’re still catching your breath, phone aimed directly at her. The frame catches her kneeling there in the stage lights, naked and trembling, grinning through a mask of cum and destroyed makeup.

Yunjin lifts her chin toward the camera and smiles like she knows exactly how filthy she looks. She drags one finger through the cum on her cheek, brings it to her mouth, and tastes it slowly.

“Yummy,” she says, making sure the camera catches the way her tongue cleans her fingertip.

Then she pouts at the lens, exaggerated and sexy, lips glossy with your cum, eyes half lidded and sparkling with trouble. She holds the pose long enough to make the ending perfect.

You stop recording. For a moment, both of you just stand there in the afterglow of it, the empty theater silent around you except for Yunjin’s uneven breathing. She rises carefully, one hand finding the edge of the prop table to steady herself. Her knees shake a little, and she laughs again when she notices.

“That,” she says, pointing at you with a cum covered finger, “was the best blowjob, deep throat, facefucking situation I have ever been part of. And I’ve got an extensive resume.”

You pull your underwear and pants back up, still sensitive enough that even the fabric brushing you makes you wince. “Glad I ranked highly.”

“Highly? Babe, you broke the scale.” She looks down at the mess on her chest, then back at your jeans like she can still see through them. “I’m obsessed. That’s so annoying. I was supposed to film a hot clip, post it, brag in the group chat, and move on with my life. Now I’m standing here covered in your cum wondering if I can fit you into my schedule as a recurring problem.”

“That sounds flattering.”

“It’s extremely flattering. Don’t let it make you arrogant.” She bends down carefully, picking her clothes off the floor one by one. She doesn’t put anything on yet, probably because there is no clean way to do it while coated like this. “Are you free tonight?”

You pause with your belt half fastened. “Tonight?”

“Yeah. My place.”

“I thought you got what you needed.”

“With you?” She gives you a look that makes it very clear how stupid she thinks that sentence was. “No, babe. I have so many things I need to do with your dick that I should not start listing them, because if I do, I’ll get wet again and try to fuck you right here on this stage before the drama kids show up.”

You glance toward the backstage hallway. “How are you getting rid of all of that?”

“There are showers behind the dressing rooms.” She waves it off, completely unconcerned. “I’ve made bigger messes here during tech week. Don’t worry about me.”

“You’re really inviting me over after this?”

“I’m not inviting. I’m claiming.” She steps closer, still naked, still streaked with cum, and taps a finger against your chest. “I’ll send you my address on IG. Come tonight. Bring that cock, bring the weird gummy thing if that’s part of your magic, and don’t make plans for tomorrow morning.”

“I’ll be there,” you say.

“Good. And hey. Seriously. That was insane.”

“You were insane.”

“I know. That’s why people like me.” You hand her phone back. She checks the video quickly, scrubbing through the timeline with professional focus despite the fact that cum is still dripping from her chin onto her chest.

“Oh, this is disgusting,” she says happily. “Perfect. The lighting is hot, my face looks wrecked, your dick looks criminal. I might not even have to edit much. Maybe just cut the parts where I was yapping my ass off about being in love with your cock.”

“Glad the production value survived.”

“Barely. My dignity did not, but that wasn’t invited.” She heads toward the backstage showers with her clothes bundled in one arm, hips swaying, heels clicking lightly on the stage floor. Before disappearing behind the curtain, she turns back, still grinning. “Tonight,” she says. “Don’t make me chase you.”

You leave the stage feeling absurdly good about yourself. The theater doors shut behind you, and the hallway outside is empty, too normal for what just happened. Your legs are steady enough now, your breathing mostly back.

Four girls so far. Not that you're counting. Okay, maybe a little. Asa. Somi and Chaeyoung. Now Yunjin. Two more should still be out there somewhere. You head back toward the main campus mentally preparing for the next completely normal and not concerning interaction of the week.

—

The park looks stupidly nice today. One of those afternoons where the lighting is so good everything suddenly feels edited. Trees glowing, grass looking greener than usual, the whole thing straight out of a stock photo. Families on blankets. Dogs losing their minds over frisbees. People jogging. Just regular people doing regular Thursday stuff.

Shuhua walks beside Ning with a cherry popsicle in hand, somehow managing to eat it with impossible levels of grace. No sticky fingers. No drips. Every little movement neat and automatic, thumb brushing the corner of her mouth between bites. Her pale blue dress shifts softly around her ankles in the breeze, dark hair pinned back with a single clip. Between the sunlight and the whole effortless look she's got going on, she barely feels real.

Next to Shuhua, Ning looks like the opposite side of the same coin. Tiny shorts, cropped tank, dark hair down around her shoulders. The center part frames her face in a way that somehow makes her eyes stand out even more. People call her features feline all the time. Mostly because of her eyes. Sharp. Alert. Always tracking everything around her.

"Have you seen Yunjin's numbers?" Ning asks, scrolling her phone while walking, a skill she's perfected over years of content creation. "Forty thousand views in twelve hours. Forty thousand. And she barely edited. The color grading is flat and the audio peaks twice. Imagine if she'd actually put effort into post."

Shuhua takes another careful bite of her popsicle. "I thought her video was quite good, actually."

"It was fine. Asa's was better. The library setting, the composition, the slow buildup. That's how you do it." Ning locks her phone and slides it into her back pocket. "The point is, we're the only ones who haven't filmed yet. Somi and Chaeyoung posted theirs this morning. Asa posted yesterday. Yunjin went up last night. We're falling behind."

"It's not a race, Ning."

"Everything is a race when likes are involved." She glances sideways at Shuhua. "I can't afford to lose momentum. My account gained six hundred followers just from reposting Asa's clip with commentary. If I post my own content from the trend while it's still peaking, the engagement will be insane. But we need to find someone today."

Shuhua finishes the last bite of her popsicle and holds the bare stick between two fingers, looking around for a trash can. "I agree we should film soon. I've been thinking about it more than I expected, honestly. The idea is growing on me."

"Growing on you how?"

A faint blush spreads across Shuhua's cheeks, barely noticeable against her pale skin. She looks away for a second. "I'd rather not get into that in the middle of a public park.”

Ning grins. "That's all the elaboration I needed."

They round a bend in the path and that's when Shuhua spots you. Sitting on the grass under an oak tree, legs crossed, a paperback open in your lap. Earbuds in. Glasses catching the afternoon light. Completely oblivious to the world around you, which is your default state and, apparently, your most attractive quality. "I know him," Shuhua says, slowing her pace. "He's in my Wednesday seminar. Quiet. Sits in the back row. He's quite smart, from what I can tell."

Ning studies you with the detached precision of a photographer framing a shot. "I've seen him around too. Library, mostly. Always alone, always reading." She tilts her head. "He's got the look. The glasses, the messy hair, the whole unaware thing. The contrast would photograph beautifully."

They exchange a glance. Shuhua raises one eyebrow. Ning nods once.

"Together?" Shuhua asks.

"Together." Shuhua deposits her popsicle stick in a trash can along the path and the two of them walk across the grass toward you. Their shadows fall over your book before you register their presence. You pull one earbud out and look up.

Oh. Sure. The last two.

Ning shifts her weight onto one hip and studies you quietly. Not openly suspicious, not exactly friendly either. Up close, she's honestly more striking than her photos ever made her seem. You've seen her Instagram enough times to know that. There's something magnetic about her in person. The sharpness of her features. The unwavering eye contact. Like once she looks at you, looking away becomes your responsibility.

And then there's Shuhua. You keep trying to come up with a better word for it, but ethereal is annoyingly accurate. Pale skin glowing under the sunlight, big dark eyes, delicate features that somehow look even softer up close. She has her hands folded in front of her dress so neatly that she looks like she belongs at some afternoon tea party, not here near you.

It's incredible, genuinely, how you went from being invisible on this campus to being the gravitational center of the six hottest girls at the university. One week. Seven days of your previously unremarkable life, and suddenly you can't sit in a park without attracting beautiful women who want to use your cock for content.

"Have you heard of a Twitter trend called Ruin the Pretty Face?" Ning asks, skipping past any greeting.

"Yeah,” you say, closing your book. "It's gotten huge lately. Honestly kind of wild.”

"We want to record a video," Shuhua adds, her tone polite as ever, like she's asking you to proofread an essay. "With you. If you're willing."

You look around the park. Families. Dogs. Vendors selling popcorn and ice cream. A man flying a kite about thirty meters away. "Here? Right now?"

"Not here, obviously," Ning says. "I drove today. We can film in my car. Tinted windows, good camera, plenty of privacy."

"And both of you are recording this together."

"Yes," they say in unison.

You let that sink in for approximately half a second before your brain finishes its cost benefit analysis.

"Okay," you say, standing up and tucking the book under your arm. Shuhua falls into step beside you as the three of you start walking toward the parking area. Ning leads, phone already out, checking the light conditions, probably calculating optimal filming angles based on where her car is parked relative to the sun.

"Can I ask you something?" Shuhua asks gently. Her hands remain clasped as she walks, pale blue fabric shifting around her calves with every step.

"Go ahead."

"Has any girl ever approached you before asking for the same thing? For this challenge, I mean."

You don't hesitate. "No. You two are the first crazy ones to come up to me with something like this."

Shuhua nods, seemingly satisfied. "Good. I'd feel strange if we weren't the first. It would change the dynamic."

Ning glances back over her shoulder. "The dynamic's fine. Let's stay focused." The parking garage is only about a five minute walk from the park. Ning's SUV is parked on the second level, black with windows tinted dark enough to look at least a little suspicious. She unlocks it with her key fob and jerks her head toward the back door. "Get in the back.”

You climb in. The interior is clean, almost obsessively so. No fast food wrappers, no loose change, no clutter. Just a faint scent of clean air and leather. Shuhua slides in on your left, gathering her long dress around her legs with careful, ladylike precision. Ning gets in on your right, pulling the door shut with a solid thunk. The tinted windows turn the afternoon light dim and amber. You're sandwiched between them. Shuhua's thigh brushes yours through her linen dress. Ning's bare leg presses warm against your other side.

Ning reaches into a bag near the front seat and produces a compact makeup kit, the professional kind with multiple compartments and a lighted mirror. She flips it open and starts touching up her face, quick and efficient. Then she hands it to Shuhua, who applies a careful layer of lip tint and a fresh coat of mascara, checking her reflection from three different angles before she's satisfied.

"We'll record on my phone," Ning announces, then hands you the device. "Hold it. I want mobility in the shot. Don't shake it, keep us in frame, and don't film anything identifiable about the car."

"I can handle it." You barely stop yourself from smiling. She has no clue you've somehow ended up doing this three separate times in the same week. At this point you could probably run a masterclass on filming angles for horny Twitter content. "Trust me.”

"We'll see." Ning turns to face you more fully, one leg tucking beneath her on the seat. "And one more warning. You're cumming in my mouth. Tell us when you're about to blow, because I’m not letting you make a mess in my car. Understood? Now get that cock hard."

Two hands find your lap simultaneously. Ning's on the right, confident and direct, her fingers pressing against the growing shape beneath your jeans. Shuhua's on the left, lighter, more tentative, her touch exploratory as it traces the outline of you through the fabric.

Ning leans in first, kissing you without much hesitation. Her lips are cool and smooth, carrying the faint taste of gloss. A quiet hum leaves her before she pulls away again. Then Shuhua takes her place.

The shift is instant. Shuhua kisses more softly, more carefully, barely parting her lips at first. But her hand around your cock tightens slightly, betraying nerves or excitement. She still tastes faintly like cherry from the popsicle. When your tongue brushes against hers, her breathing catches and a small surprised sound slips out before she can stop it.

Then suddenly it's all three of you at once. Kisses overlapping, mouths brushing against mouths, everything blurring together into something messy and warm. For a few seconds it gets hard to tell where one kiss ends and another begins. Shuhua's perfectly composed expression slips just a little, her eyes growing heavy. And Ning's whole cool princess act cracks for a split second when you catch her lower lip between your teeth and a real reaction slips out before she can stop it.

"You kiss well for a nerd," Ning murmurs against the corner of your mouth. They keep kissing you. Both of them. Taking turns, sharing, their hands still stroking you through your jeans, until Shuhua's brow furrows, her hand stops moving on your lap and her fingers press down, tracing the shape more carefully. Her eyes widen.

"Your cock is actually fucking huge," she murmurs.

Ning's hand joins Shuhua's, both of them feeling you through the denim now, mapping out the length and thickness with growing disbelief. "Hmm, it's probably just the pants," Ning says, though her expression suggests she doesn't believe that for a second. "Let's check if that's actually the case."

Ning yanks your belt open with zero hesitation. She tugs your pants down your thighs, and you lift your hips so she can pull them past your knees. Your boxers go with them. Your cock springs free, half hard and swelling heavier by the second in the warm, close air of the car.

Ning just stares for a second. Her lips part slightly, eyebrows lifting before she can stop them, and for one brief, completely unguarded moment she looks genuinely caught off guard. Her hand comes up slowly, wraps around the shaft, and her fingers don't even come close to meeting. "Okay," she breathes. "This is going to be way better than I imagined."

Shuhua leans across your lap to see, her pale face inches from your cock, and her dark eyes go impossibly round. "That is the biggest dick I have ever seen. In my entire life. Holy shit."

Your cock's still a little sore, honestly. Yunjin kept you at her place until almost two in the morning. At some point you completely lost track of how many times she made you cum, how many positions she somehow folded herself into, or how many times she looked you dead in the eyes and told you your cock belonged to her now.

The gummy lasted way longer than the package claimed it would, and by the time you finally collapsed onto her couch, you were pretty sure your body had reached its limit. For the first time since this whole insane week started, you actually felt drained.

But you can find some more stamina. For Shuhua and Ning, you can dig deep.

Ning strokes you once, twice, feeling the girth, watching the way your cock thickens further under her touch. She glances at Shuhua with a grin spreading across her face. You lift the phone, frame the shot tight on both of them, and hit the red button. The timer starts counting in the corner of the screen.

Ning leans down and drags her tongue in a long, flat stripe from the base to the tip. Shuhua follows immediately, her tongue tracing the opposite side, and the two of them meet at the head with their mouths brushing against each other. Ning takes you in first, wrapping her lips around the crown and sinking down, taking as much of your girth as her small mouth can manage on the first pass. Her cheeks hollow and she pulls up slow, letting the camera catch the slick shine coating your shaft. "Your turn," she murmurs, and guides your cock toward Shuhua's mouth.

Shuhua parts her lips and takes you in gently. Her eyes flutter closed and a soft, quiet sound escapes her throat. She bobs her head in shallow, careful motions, her hand gripping the base where her mouth can't reach. She's tentative at first. Testing. Adjusting to the stretch of her jaw around something this thick. But she doesn't pull away. If anything, she sinks deeper, taking another inch, then another, her throat working around you.

"Good?" Ning asks, watching Shuhua's face with curiosity.

Shuhua pulls off just enough to speak, her lips still brushing the head. "Very good." She kisses the tip softly, then takes you back into her mouth with more confidence.

They trade off. Ning goes deep, sloppy and showy, letting spit pool and drip down her chin because she knows exactly how it looks on camera. She moans around your shaft, loud and performative, her dark eyes finding the phone lens and holding the gaze. Her tongue works the underside with practiced skill, and when she pulls off, thick strings of saliva connect her swollen lips to your cock. Shuhua takes over with a steadier, quieter intensity. She sucks you with focus, her brow slightly furrowed in concentration. She discovers a rhythm that makes you twitch in her mouth and she stays there, repeating the motion, building on it. Her hand cups your balls, rolling them gently, and you hear her whimper against your shaft.

This looks like the kind of porn video you'd scroll past on your feed and immediately save. Two insanely beautiful women in the backseat of a car, heads in your lap, taking turns swallowing your cock while the afternoon light filters through tinted windows.

You decide it's time to step it up. Your free hand slides into Ning's dark hair and you push her head down. She takes it with a muffled sound of surprise that melts into a groan as your cock hits the back of her throat. You hold her there, feeling her throat constrict around you, then pull her back and push forward again. Fucking her face in slow, deep strokes. Her hands grip your thigh for balance and she opens her throat for you, letting you use her mouth however you want.

"Fuck yes," she gasps when you let her up for air. "Use me. Treat me like your slut." You push her back down and pick up the pace. Your hips roll up from the seat, driving your cock into her mouth while your hand controls the depth. Spit spills from the corners of her stretched lips, running down her chin, dripping onto her crop top. Her mascara starts to bleed at the corners of her eyes.

Then you switch. You pull Ning off and guide Shuhua down by the hair. She resists for half a second, startled by the rougher handling, then melts into it. You thrust into her mouth and she makes this sweet, overwhelmed sound, her eyes going wide and wet. You fuck her face slower than you did Ning's, giving her time to adjust, but you don't go easy. She doesn't want easy. You can tell from the way her hands keep drifting to her chest, squeezing her breasts lightly whenever she gets too worked up.

"Your dick feels so good in my mouth," Shuhua whispers when you give her a moment to breathe. Her usual elegance is slipping. Hair sticks to her lips, her cheeks are flushed, and every word sounds less put together than the last. "I didn't expect to enjoy it this much. It's so thick, it stretches my jaw so wide, and I just want to keep taking it."

"Then take it," you tell her, and she does. Shuhua sinks down on her own, swallowing as much of you as she can manage, and works her throat around you with a determination that borders on desperate.

You alternate between them. A dozen strokes into Ning's willing throat, then a dozen into Shuhua's eager mouth. Your hand switches between their heads, pulling, guiding, controlling the pace. Their makeup is slowly losing the fight. Ning's contour is smudged along her jawline now, and the gloss she'd put on earlier is long gone, leaving her lips puffy and messy. Shuhua's mascara has started to run beneath her eyes, creating dark crescents that weren't there before. Even her lip tint is smeared across her cheek now. The polished look both of them started with has completely fallen apart.

The pressure builds low and heavy in your stomach. Your balls tighten. The gummy's lingering effects make the orgasm feel enormous, swelling bigger than you can hold back. "I'm about to cum," you announce.

Ning pulls Shuhua off your cock and moves in front of you, kneeling on the floor of the backseat between your spread legs. She wraps her lips around the head and seals them tight, her hand pumping the shaft in fast, wet strokes. Her dark eyes look up at you, then at the camera, holding the gaze while she works you toward the edge.

You cum hard. The first pulse floods her mouth and she flinches, her cheeks bulging slightly before she swallows. More follows. Thick, heavy spurts that fill her faster than she can manage. Her throat works overtime but some of it escapes, leaking from the corners of her sealed lips and dripping down her chin. You keep cumming, pulse after pulse, the gummy ensuring that the load is obscene, far more than any normal session should produce. Her eyes water but she doesn't pull off. She takes everything you give her, her hand milking every last drop from your shaft.

When you finally stop throbbing, Ning pulls off slowly. She keeps her lips pressed tight together and turns to face the camera. She opens her mouth.

It's full. Completely full. Your cum pools on her tongue, thick and white, some of it already dripping from her lower lip. She tilts her head back slightly to show the camera, letting the load sit there, visible and obscene. Shuhua leans in close, her face next to Ning's. Ning cups Shuhua's chin and tilts her face up. Slowly she lets the cum dribble from her mouth into Shuhua's open lips. A thick strand stretches between them before breaking and landing on Shuhua's tongue.

Shuhua closes her mouth and swirls it, her expression somewhere between wonder and arousal. Then she leans toward Ning and passes it back, letting the cum slide from her lips into Ning's waiting mouth. They go back and forth, the load shrinking slightly with each transfer as they swallow bits of it, giggling between passes, their lips brushing together each time.

Finally, Ning swallows the last of it and pulls Shuhua in for a kiss. A real one. Deep and slow and wet, their tongues visible between their joined mouths, cum and saliva smearing across both their chins. They break apart and turn to face the camera with matching grins.

Ning winks at the lens. Shuhua blows a kiss.

Their faces are destroyed. Mascara tracking down their cheeks, lips swollen and smeared, chins dripping, hair tangled and damp. Ning's crop top is stained dark with spit. Shuhua's pale cheeks are flushed pink all the way to her ears. They look absolutely ruined and absolutely gorgeous.

Perfect content.

You stop recording. The car falls quiet except for their breathing and the distant sound of a car alarm somewhere in the structure. You hand the phone to Ning.

"Thanks," she says, already scrubbing through the footage. Her eyes move quickly, evaluating. "You did a great job filming. The angles are solid, you kept us in frame, the lighting caught everything. This is usable."

"I did the best I could."

"You succeeded." She watches a specific section again, the cumswapping part, and nods approvingly. "This is going to perform so well. The engagement on this will be insane."

You reach down and pull your pants back up, fastening your belt with slightly shaky fingers. "Well. I need to go now." You look between them. "It was a pleasure meeting you both. Genuinely."

Shuhua tucks a strand of damp hair behind her ear and smiles at you, still flushed, still catching her breath. "Thank you for your help. I mean it. You were very kind about the whole thing."

"Anytime." You open the car door and the cool air of the parking structure hits your face. You step out, legs a bit unsteady, and turn back to close the door.

Ning is watching you with a slight frown. She glances at Shuhua, saying, "It was a little too easy."

"What do you mean?"

"He wasn't surprised by the request. He wasn't overly excited about having two girls sucking his dick in my car. He treated the whole thing like it was just another day." She tilts her head. "That's weird, right? Most guys would be losing their minds right now."

Shuhua considers this for a moment. "Yeah, he was actually quite calm. Unusually calm. But maybe it all happened too fast and he didn't have time to process everything properly."

"Maybe," Ning says, not fully convinced. She shrugs and looks back at her phone. "Whatever. We better clean up. I still need to edit and post this before the trend peaks."

Shuhua reaches for the makeup kit. "Don't forget to tag me in the video."

"Obviously I'm tagging you. Your engagement feeds mine. It's mutually beneficial."

Shuhua rolls her eyes and smiles at the same time somehow. "Of course. Nothing says friendship like performance metrics.”

—

As usual for a weekend, Yunjin's living room is full. The girls have somehow claimed every inch of the giant L shaped couch, stretched out with their legs tangled together and their attention split between their phones and conversations happening in five directions at once. The TV's running in the background, ignored completely. Empty sushi containers crowd the coffee table beside abandoned wine glasses and Somi's energy drink.

Chaeyoung sits in Somi's lap with her back against Somi's chest, scrolling her phone while Somi braids a small section of her hair absentmindedly. Asa is cross legged on the floor cushion by the window, her laptop open, analytics dashboard visible. Ning occupies the armchair with her legs draped over one side, editing something on her phone. Shuhua sits upright at the end of the couch, both feet on the floor, posture perfect even at eleven at night.

Yunjin paces behind the couch in an oversized t shirt and shorts, wine glass in hand, narrating. "Final conclusion: Asa is winning," she announces, pointing at the screen Asa turns toward the group. "Obviously. She posted first, the algorithm favored her, the library setting was aesthetic, and her editing is annoyingly good. Twelve thousand likes and climbing. The comments are losing their minds."

"Thank you," Asa says simply.

"Second place is me." Yunjin grins with absolutely no humility. "As it should, honestly. I killed it and looked amazing doing it. Ning, put my video back on. Show them the ending.”

Ning taps the link and angles her phone so the group can see. The final thirty seconds of Yunjin's clip play on the small screen. The stage lighting, Yunjin's ruined face, and then the cumshot. The girls lean in and watch as rope after rope lands across Yunjin's cheeks, her forehead, her open mouth, her chin, her neck. It keeps going. And going. The volume of it is genuinely startling.

"What the actual fuck," Somi says, pausing mid braid.

"That's not real," Ning adds, rewinding and playing it again. "That can't be real. That's like a full minute of cum."

"It felt like a full minute," Yunjin confirms, swirling her wine. "My face was dripping. It got in my hair and I had to wash it three times."

Shuhua tilts her head, studying the footage with clinical interest. "I've genuinely never seen anyone produce that much. Is that medically normal?"

"He told me he had these gummy bears that act like some ridiculously overpowered aphrodisiac. Explains the massive cum loads. Pure genius." Yunjin takes a sip. "Look at those numbers. People are sharing that clip specifically because of the finish. The algorithm is pushing it."

Chaeyoung covers her eyes. "I can't watch it again. It's too much."

"You literally made out with Somi on camera with cum all over your face," Yunjin reminds her. "Don't get all puritan on me now."

"Watching and actually being part of it are two completely different things,” Chaeyoung replies.

By the way, their duo video is doing pretty well too. Somi's chaotic, aggressive energy mixed with Chaeyoung's softer vibe ended up creating this weirdly perfect contrast people are absolutely obsessed with. The comments are exactly what you'd expect: half thirsty, half completely unhinged. Which is apparently the dream outcome, even if Somi keeps pretending she never reads them. Ning and Shuhua's clip has the lowest numbers so far, but that's mostly because theirs went up last.

"My video's gonna do numbers too. Give it forty eight hours," Ning says, unbothered. "Late posts always start slower. Lower engagement upfront, longer lifespan after. Some big NSFW accounts already picked it up and are funneling people over.”

"You and your analytics," Yunjin mutters.

"My analytics pay my rent."

Asa closes her laptop and leans back against the wall. "Honestly? I think this worked out for everyone. The videos are getting attention, engagement's solid, and none of us got banned. That's good enough for me.”

For a few seconds, the room settles into this quiet, satisfied silence. Then Shuhua casually says, "It's the same guy."

Every head turns. Nobody says anything. Just several seconds of confused blinking until Ning finally asks: "What do you mean?"

Shuhua points at Ning's phone, which still has Yunjin's video paused on screen. "That cock. It's the same one in our video. Look at it. The size, the shape, the slight curve to the left. It's identical."

"No way," Yunjin says. "That's impossible."

"Play all the videos side by side," Shuhua insists. Asa immediately gets to work. A few quick movements later, all four clips are sitting side by side on the screen. She hits play.

The evidence is damning. The same thick shaft. The same slight leftward curve. The same heavy balls. The same pair of hands, same forearms, same skin. It's definitely the same person.

"Oh my god," Chaeyoung breathes.

"It's the same fucking guy," Somi says after a long silence. "How did six different people somehow land on the same nerd? There's no way that's statistically possible."

Ning gives a small shrug. "Shared good taste."

"This isn't funny."

"I'm not joking." Ning barely reacts. "He checked every box. He was available. Apparently very available."

Chaeyoung's face visibly crumples. She sinks lower into Somi's lap and hugs a pillow against herself. "We texted every day...I thought we had something going on.”

"Aw, Chae..." Somi murmurs softly, and her hands go back to braiding Chaeyoung's hair.

Yunjin lowers her wine glass onto the counter and looks around. "Okay, before anyone gets mad… I slept with him after.”

"You WHAT?" Somi sits up so fast that Chaeyoung nearly topples off her lap.

"His dick is amazing," Yunjin says, completely unapologetic. "I got hooked. We had sex for hours and I was about to schedule a second date. Sue me."

Chaeyoung's eyes are glassy. "I can't believe I was starting to fall for someone who was getting blowjobs from all my friends behind my back."

"Nobody knew anything," Asa says firmly. "That's the point. None of us coordinated. None of us told each other which guy we picked. We all approached him independently."

Shuhua folds her hands in her lap. "I asked him directly. When Ning and I found him in the park, I asked if any girl had ever approached him before with the same request. He told us no. That we were the first."

"That lying piece of shit," Somi hisses.

"Honestly?" Asa starts. "We can't judge him. Think about it. If we had known we were all using the same guy, we would have dropped him immediately. He saw an opportunity and he took it."

Shuhua nods. "It's somewhat fair when you consider the full picture. We used him for content and engagement. He used the situation for his own benefit. We're not really in a position to be angry."

"I'm in a position to be angry," Somi declares. Chaeyoung sniffles. Somi's hand moves from her hair to her back, rubbing slow circles between her shoulder blades. "I warned you that you deserved better than him," she says.

Ning rolls her eyes from the armchair. "Please. It's not like she and him were dating. There was no exclusivity, no commitment, no cheating. She texted him for a few days. That's hardly a betrayal."

"It felt like something," Chaeyoung mumbles into the pillow.

Yunjin walks around the couch and stands in front of all of them. Her posture shifts, shoulders back, chin up, that specific energy she gets when a plan is forming behind her eyes. "We're all going out," she announces.

"Out where?" Asa asks.

"The mall. After hours. We're going to find him and we're going to settle this."

"Settle it how?" Shuhua inquires, politely but with clear suspicion.

"Chaeyoung, text him right now. Tell him to meet us." Yunjin pauses. "Actually, forget it. Let me handle this. I know how to persuade him."

Somi crosses her arms, careful not to dislodge Chaeyoung from her lap. "What exactly are you planning, Yunjin?"

Yunjin looks at her like the answer should be written on the ceiling. "Isn't it obvious? A fucking orgy. All six of us. One night. One guy. In the mall after closing."

Asa grins and laughs. “Girl, you’ve officially lost it.”

"Consider it a farewell orgy," Yunjin continues, pacing now, warming to the idea. "We get it out of our systems. All of us. Every last fantasy and curiosity and frustration. And after that, he's free. Completely free for Chaeyoung, if she still wants him. Clean slate."

Shuhua raises a finger. "Nobody is pursuing him. The only person who had sex with him outside of the challenge was you."

"Yeah, yeah, whatever, Miss Dump-the-Lore. I'm horny and I want an orgy. Are you in or not?"

"Fuck it," Somi says. "This is my shot at getting even. I'm gonna destroy that dick. Brutally.”

Asa sets her laptop aside and stretches her arms above her head. "I'm in too. I'll admit it. I've been curious about what that thing feels like somewhere other than my throat."

Ning locks her phone and swings her legs off the armchair. "I'm in. I'm honestly curious to see how this drama's gonna end. Plus Amazon still hasn't delivered my new super vibrator, and rewatching all those clips got me horny as hell.”

Shuhua smooths her skirt over her knees, considering. "Since everyone else is going, I suppose I'll participate as well.

Everyone’s attention lands on Chaeyoung. She slowly raises her head from the pillow in Somi’s lap, pink-cheeked and blinking through damp lashes. “...Fine,” she says. “I’m in too. I want to feel that cock filling me, stretching my pussy open.” She glances down, embarrassed but honest. “I dreamed about it last night and woke up dripping.”

Then comes the collective murmur. Quiet gasps. Suppressed laughs. Multiple people making deeply judgmental mmm sounds at once. Chaeyoung lets out a tiny embarrassed laugh and hides behind her pillow again.

"Oh my god, shut up," she mumbles. "All of you, shut up, please.”

Yunjin claps her hands together so hard it echoes off the apartment walls. "Perfect! Up, everyone. Go get changed." She grabs her keys from the counter and points at the group. "And I hope every single one of you is on the pill, because things are going to get pretty fucking intense.”

—

The mall is nearly deserted when you get there. A handful of people drift toward the exits while janitors sweep through the empty walkways. The background music hums through the open space, weirdly loud without the usual crowd to drown it out. At the top of the escalator, you spot them right away. Six girls sitting around a table by the pretzel stand, looking way too good to be here for anything innocent. You know exactly what this is. You figured it out the second Yunjin texted you. The game’s up. And somehow, instead of feeling nervous, you feel completely calm. You stroll over with your hands in your pockets and pull up a chair.

"Hey girls," you say, sitting down and leaning back. "How are the videos going?"

Somi’s glare is intense enough to be considered a health hazard. Her arms are folded tightly, her expression hard, pure annoyance radiating off her in waves. Yunjin, on the other hand, looks almost entertained. She rests her chin in her hand and studies you with narrowed eyes.

“Wow,” she says. “You really had us all fooled, huh? Playing all six of us while acting like you didn’t know what was happening.”

You shrug. "You guys wanted to use me for content. I let you. Every single time. The fact that you all happened to pick the same guy isn't really my problem to solve."

Shuhua tilts her head. Those elegant features carry a trace of genuine hurt underneath the composure. "You lied to me. I asked you directly if anyone else had approached you, and you looked me in the eyes and said no."

"Yeah," you admit. No point denying it. "I did. But be honest, the video turned out great, didn't it? If you'd known I already filmed with four other girls, you would've found someone else, and maybe that someone else wouldn't have been half as good on camera."

Ning, who's been scrolling through engagement metrics on her phone this entire time, murmurs without looking up. "He has a point."

"Don't encourage him," Somi snaps.

Chaeyoung hasn't said much. She's sitting between Somi and Asa, picking at the sleeve of her sweater. When she finally glances up, her face is calm, but her eyes give her away. There’s hurt there, even if she’s trying to hide it.

"You were sleeping with Yunjin," she says quietly.

"This only happened once.”

Somi leans forward. "Chaeyoung likes you, you absolute idiot."

You meet Chaeyoung’s eyes and hold them. “Hey, I like you too. But we’ve been talking for less than a week” You spread your hands toward the table. “And I didn’t exactly know what to make of you yet. Mostly because, no offense…” You gesture at the others. “The people you’re surrounded by aren’t exactly screaming reliable.”

Asa slowly lowers her iced coffee onto the table. “And what exactly is that supposed to mean? Are you calling us sluts?”

“Asa, you literally called yourself a slut in the library. Those were your exact words.”

“Yeah, and when we say it, it’s empowering,” Asa shoots back smoothly. “It’s reclaiming the word. We're owning our choices, our bodies, and making money on our own terms. It’s about autonomy. What you’re doing is using it like an insult, which is a completely different thing.”

You raise your palms in surrender. "Fair enough. My bad. So why am I here? Are you gonna jump me in a food court? Beat me up behind a Cinnabon?"

Yunjin's smile spreads slow and dangerous. "Something like that. We do plan to break you. Just not in the way you're thinking." She pauses for effect, clearly enjoying herself. "We want to fuck you."

You blink. Then you lean back in the chair and let out a long breath through your nose. “Oh.” You nod once. “Yeah. Okay. That probably should’ve been my first guess.” Your eyes find Chaeyoung again. "Are you okay with this?"

She gives a small shrug that's trying very hard to look casual. "Why wouldn't I be? You're not my boyfriend or anything."

“For the record,” you say, tone shifting into something more genuine, “I’ve actually really liked talking to you. The late-night texts, the movie recs, all of it. I’d like that to keep being a thing. No matter what happens tonight.”

Chaeyoung watches you for a second, searching your face. Then a small smile tugs at her lips. “If you make me cum hard enough,” she says lightly, “I might hear your case.”

Somi snorts. Ning grins.

"I don't think I deserve to be put on trial here when I didn't actually do anything wrong," you reply. "But fine. Challenge accepted."

Ning tucks her phone into her purse and claps once. "Okay, okay, enough with the romance subplot. How exactly are we doing this? Logistics. Where, when, how."

You look around the emptying food court. "You're not seriously planning to do this here. In the mall."

Yunjin spreads her arms wide. "We've already filmed blowjobs in a library, a classroom, a theater, and a car. What's a mall?"

"The difference is we could get caught and arrested. All seven of us. Public indecency. That goes on a record."

Asa sets her iced coffee down like she’s been waiting for the perfect moment to speak. She clears her throat and begins: “The mall closes in twenty minutes. After that, security drops to basically nothing. One guard for the whole building, and he usually camps out by the loading dock on the north side.”

Everyone turns to stare at her.

Completely unfazed, she keeps going: “I know a girl who works at the mattress store on the first floor. SleepHaven, over by the west corridor. She told me that whole section had all its security cameras taken down for replacement this morning, and the install crew never showed. No cameras until at least Monday.” She takes a casual sip of her coffee. “I’ll head down now, ask to use the restroom, pretend to leave, then hide in there until they lock up. The bathroom lock’s been broken for weeks, so there’s no chance of getting stuck. Once the store’s closed and everyone’s gone, I’ll open the front gate from the inside and let you all in.”

Silence around the table. Shuhua exhales slowly. "So either this is going to be the best sex any of us have ever had, or we get arrested, end up on the local news, and our lives are effectively over."

Yunjin grins so wide it's almost manic. "Both of those outcomes sound pretty great to me. Let's go."

Chaeyoung shifts nervously in her seat. Ning puts a hand on her knee under the table. "Relax. Think about that huge cock that's about to be inside you. Focus on the positives."

"I'm literally right here," you say.

Ning just smirks at you. Doesn't say a word. Shuhua stands up and smooths down her skirt. "Fine. Let's go to the first floor. Split up. Move separately. Stay away from any active camera zones. We'll reconvene at the restrooms near the west corridor."

And that's how you end up locked in a mall bathroom stall at eleven thirty on a Saturday night, sitting on a closed toilet lid, scrolling through your phone while the building goes quiet around you. The lights in the corridor outside dim to half power. The muzak cuts off. You hear the distant rumble of security gates being pulled down over storefronts.

Forty minutes pass. Your phone buzzes. Yunjin's text reads:

on our way. going separately. be careful

You crack the stall door open and listen. Nothing. You slip out of the restroom and into the corridor. The first floor is eerie with most of the lights off, storefronts shuttered behind metal gates, the air conditioning humming low. Your sneakers barely make a sound on the polished floor. When you reach SleepHaven, five silhouettes are already gathered outside the gate. Asa's face appears behind the glass a moment later. She fiddles with something, and the front gate slides open just enough for everyone to duck under.

You file in one by one. Asa pulls the gate back down behind you. Yunjin doesn't waste a second. She kicks off her shoes and throws herself backward onto a king size display mattress near the front.

"The universe loves me. An orgy in a mattress store. This is genuinely the greatest night of my life."

Asa hisses at her immediately. "Keep it down. And we can't do this out here, anyone walking by the storefront might overhear. Grab a mattress, take it to the back area behind the counter. There are pillars back there, it's more concealed."

They end up choosing a queen-size display bed that’s already dressed in spotless sheets and looks ridiculously high-end. You grab one end, Somi grabs the other, and together you haul it behind the service counter to the back section of the store. Yunjin surveys the setup and nods approvingly. "This is actually perfect. Way better than I expected."

Shuhua is running her hand along the sheets. "This is a three thousand dollar mattress. Egyptian cotton sheets. If we're going to commit a felony, at least we're doing it in luxury."

"Okay," you say, standing at the edge of the mattress. "I'm going to be honest. I have absolutely no idea how this works. I've never done anything like this before."

Somi steps forward. She puts one hand flat on your chest and pushes. Hard. You lose your balance and fall backward onto the mattress, the expensive sheets puffing up around you. "Lie down," Somi orders, looking down at you. "And leave the rest to us."

You look up at the six girls standing over you and grin, sinking deeper into the mattress. “Alright then,” you say. “I’m at your service.”

There’s no drawn-out moment to it. Everyone just starts undressing. Yunjin finishes pulling off the top she’d already loosened earlier and casually flings it behind the counter. Somi pops her bra loose with one hand while kicking off her jeans. Ning pauses long enough to fold her skirt perfectly before setting it aside. Chaeyoung turns a little as she slips out of her bra, clearly self-conscious, while Asa strips down with the detached efficiency of someone changing after class. Shuhua carefully unbuttons her blouse, smoothing it flat over a nearby pillow.

You pull your shirt over your head, shove your jeans and boxers down, and your cock springs free. Already half hard from the sheer visual assault of six naked women in a dimly lit mattress store.

Yunjin goes first, exactly as everyone expected. She swings herself over your lap, straddling your hips as the mattress dips beneath her knees. Then she leans in and claims your mouth without warning, her tongue sliding past your lips like she’s not interested in asking permission. There’s nothing tentative about it. She kisses hard and deep, all heat and confidence. Her hand snakes down between your bodies, gripping your cock and stroking until you’re fully hard under her touch. Then she guides you lower, dragging the tip through her soaked folds until it catches at her entrance.

"God, I'll literally never get tired of this," Yunjin breathes against your lips. "The way you stretch me open. It's so fucking good every single time." She sinks down. Slow. Taking inch after inch until her ass meets your thighs and she's fully seated with your entire length buried inside her. Her walls grip you tight, clenching, adjusting. Her head tips back and her mouth falls open.

Then Somi is there. Standing over you, looking down at your face with that cold, mean expression she wears so well.

"Alright," she says, one leg swinging over your head. "Let's put that tongue to work. See if it's actually good for anything besides lying to people."

She lowers herself onto your mouth. Her pussy presses against your lips, wet and warm, her thighs framing your face. She's facing Yunjin, their knees almost touching on either side of your body. You flatten your tongue and drag it through her folds, tasting her, finding her clit and circling it. Somi's thighs twitch.

"Don't be gentle about it," she tells you, grinding down harder. "You owe me."

To your left, Ning takes Chaeyoung's hand. "C'mon babe, lie down," she murmurs. "We're not just gonna stand here watching."

Chaeyoung settles onto the mattress beside you, on her back, her dark hair fanning out across the white sheets. Ning crawls between her legs, pushes her thighs apart, and dips her head. Chaeyoung gasps when Ning's tongue touches her, her back arching slightly off the mattress.

Behind Ning, Asa kneels. With Ning on all fours, her ass presented perfectly, Asa spreads her cheeks with both hands and buries her face between them. Her tongue drags from Ning's clit all the way back, slow and thorough, circling her asshole before dipping back down to her pussy. Ning moans into Chaeyoung, the vibration making Chaeyoung whimper. Shuhua watches. She's standing beside the mattress, one hand between her own legs, fingers sliding through her wetness as she takes in the scene. Her eyes are locked on where Yunjin's body meets yours, watching your cock disappear inside her with each roll of her hips.

Yunjin notices. She reaches out with one hand, hooks it behind Shuhua's neck, and pulls her in for a kiss. Shuhua leans into it, her fingers working faster between her thighs while Yunjin's tongue slides against hers.

Yunjin breaks the kiss and looks back at Somi. "Fuck, your tits look so good from here," she says, openly staring at the way Somi's chest bounces with each shift of her hips against your face. "So fucking hot, seriously."

"I know," Somi responds, not even slightly humble about it. She rolls her hips forward, smearing herself across your mouth. "Deeper. Get your tongue inside me."

You push your tongue into her, as deep as it'll go, and she grinds down on it. Her full weight presses against your face, and breathing becomes genuinely difficult. Your nose is pressed against her clit, your mouth completely covered by her pussy. She's suffocating you and she knows it and she doesn't care.

It’s heaven. You’d die smiling buried in her ass.

Yunjin picks up her pace on top of you. She plants her hands on your chest and starts really riding, lifting her hips until just the tip remains inside before dropping back down with her full weight. Each time she takes you to the root, her breath hitches, her nails dig into your skin. Your cock is coated in her arousal, glistening every time she rises.

"You feel so deep like this," Yunjin groans, rolling her hips in a circle before slamming back down. "I swear you're in my fucking stomach right now."

Somi reaches forward and grabs one of Yunjin's tits, squeezing roughly. "Ride him harder. I wanna feel him moan into me when you do it." Yunjin laughs breathlessly and complies. She speeds up, the wet sound of skin meeting skin filling the dark store. Every time she bottoms out, your hips jerk involuntarily, and Somi feels the moan travel through your tongue directly into her cunt. She bites her lip, satisfied.

To your left, Chaeyoung is squirming under Ning's mouth. Her fingers are tangled in Ning's hair, pulling gently, her chest heaving. "Right there, Ning, don't stop, fuck, please don't stop."

Ning hums in acknowledgment, then gasps herself as Asa's tongue pushes inside her ass. Her back dips, pushing her hips back against Asa's face, seeking more.

"Asa, that feels insane," Ning mumbles between Chaeyoung's legs. "Do that again." Asa doesn't respond verbally. She just grips Ning's hips tighter and keeps going, alternating between her holes with a precision that has Ning trembling on her knees.

Shuhua pulls away from kissing Yunjin and kneels beside the mattress, still touching herself. “Yunjin, if I may say so, you look exceptionally pretty taking that cock,” says softly, and even her dirty talk sounds polished somehow. “The way it stretches you is... deeply impressive.”

"Shu, babe, it's unreal," Yunjin responds between bounces. "His dick is literally ruining me for everyone else. That's not even a joke. No one else is ever gonna measure up."

Somi grabs the back of your head with one hand, lifting it slightly, pressing you harder against her. Your tongue aches from the effort but you keep going, sucking her clit between your lips, flicking it rapidly. Her thighs are shaking now. "Shit," Somi breathes. "Okay, maybe your mouth isn't completely useless."

Yunjin's rhythm becomes erratic. She's chasing it now, grinding her clit against your pelvis with each downstroke, her walls clenching tighter around you. Her moans get louder, less controlled. "Fuck, fuck, I'm gonna cum," she pants. "Your cock is so deep, I can feel it everywhere, I'm literally about to lose it."

She slams down one final time and holds there, grinding in tight circles. Her whole body seizes, thighs clamping against your sides, her pussy spasming around your shaft in rhythmic pulses. She throws her head back and her mouth opens in a silent scream before the sound catches up, a long, shuddering moan that echoes off the store walls. Somi watches Yunjin cum and something about it tips her over the edge too. Her thighs slam shut around your head, trapping you completely, her hips bucking against your mouth in short, sharp jerks.

"Don't you dare stop," she hisses through her teeth, one hand braced on Yunjin's shoulder. Her whole body goes rigid for three seconds, then she comes apart, grinding down on your tongue through it, her slick flooding your lips and chin. Her legs tremble violently on either side of your head before she finally loosens her grip and you gasp for air.

They both climb off. Your face is drenched, Somi's arousal smeared from your forehead to your chin. Your cock is still hard, still throbbing, slick with Yunjin's cum.

Yunjin collapses onto the edge of the mattress, spent and grinning. "Okay. Who's next."

Chaeyoung sits up. Her cheeks are flushed from whatever Ning was doing to her moments ago, her eyes bright. "Me!"

The other girls shift, making room. Ning wipes her mouth with the back of her hand. Asa sits back on her heels. You pull yourself upright and move toward Chaeyoung, settling between her legs as she lies back down. You look down at her. She looks up at you. In the dim glow of the emergency lights, her face is soft and beautiful and a little nervous.

You smile softly. “Hey.”

She meets it with a little smile of her own. “Hey.”

"I'm gonna go slow," you tell her quietly. Just for her. "You tell me to stop whenever you need me to." She nods, her hand finding yours on the sheet and squeezing gently.

You guide yourself to Chaeyoung's entrance and press forward. Just the tip at first, barely pushing in, letting her feel the stretch before you commit. Her eyes go wide, her lips parting, fingers curling into the sheets beneath her. "Oh my god," she whispers, staring up at you. "That's just the beginning?"

"Just the beginning," you confirm, and push another inch inside her.

Behind you, the mattress shifts as everyone else finds their positions. Yunjin grabs Shuhua by the waist and pulls her close, tangling their legs together until their pussies press flush against each other. Yunjin starts grinding immediately, rolling her hips in slow, lazy circles, her wetness mixing with Shuhua's. A few feet away, Ning swings a leg over Asa's face and settles down, her knees bracketing Asa's head. Asa's hands come up to grip Ning's thighs and she gets to work without being asked. Somi kneels between Asa's spread legs, slides two fingers inside her, and starts pumping with a casual, almost bored efficiency that makes it clear she's done this before.

You sink deeper into Chaeyoung. She grabs your forearm, squeezing hard, her back lifting off the mattress. You stop halfway and let her breathe. "You okay?"

"Yeah, just... give me a sec. You're really thick." She exhales slowly, her walls fluttering around you, adjusting. Then she nods. "Keep going." You push the rest of the way in. All of it. Chaeyoung's mouth falls open and no sound comes out for a solid three seconds. Then she lets out this shaky, overwhelmed little moan that makes Yunjin glance over from her scissoring position and grin.

"There it is," Yunjin says approvingly, grinding harder against Shuhua. "That's the face. I made that exact same face my first time with him."

You pull back slowly and thrust in again, building a gentle rhythm. Chaeyoung's hands find your shoulders, pulling you down closer. You lean in and kiss her, soft and deep, and she melts into it. When you pull back, she's smiling.

"You taste like Somi," she murmurs against your lips.

"Bet that's a taste you know pretty well."

Chaeyoung's cheeks flush even darker. "Maybe."

Somi doesn't even look up from fingering Asa. "I heard that. And yes, she does."

Ning laughs from her perch on Asa's face, then cuts herself off with a sharp gasp when Asa does something particularly good with her tongue. "Fuck, Asa, what are you doing down there? That's so good, keep doing that."

Asa can't respond because her mouth is full of Ning's pussy, but she gives a thumbs up with one hand, which makes Shuhua giggle breathlessly from where she's grinding against Yunjin.

"This is genuinely the most unhinged thing I've ever participated in," Shuhua manages between heavy breaths, her hips moving in rhythm with Yunjin's. "And I'm including the time Ning convinced me to skinny dip at that resort."

"Shu, babe, this is so much better than skinny dipping," Yunjin replies, reaching down to adjust the angle of their hips so their clits press together more directly. Shuhua whimpers at the change in pressure. "This is like... peak friendship activities right here."

You pick up the pace with Chaeyoung. She wraps her legs around your waist, locking her ankles behind your back, and the new angle lets you go deeper. Her nails rake down your shoulders. "Right there," she breathes. "Oh god, right there, don't move from that spot."

"Chae's getting loud," Somi observes, curling her fingers inside Asa and making her jolt. "I love that for her honestly."

"She deserves it," Ning says, then rolls her hips against Asa's mouth, chasing the sensation. "After all those sad little crushes she's had? Let the girl have her moment."

"Can you guys stop talking about me while I'm getting fucked, please," Chaeyoung says, but she's laughing, and then the laugh dissolves into a moan when you thrust particularly deep.

Yunjin is sweating. They're all sweating. The store has no ventilation running this late, and the combined body heat of seven people fucking on a three thousand dollar mattress has turned the back area into a sauna. Skin glistens under the dim emergency lighting. The sounds are obscene and layered: wet skin, heavy breathing, Ning's sharp little gasps mixing with Shuhua's softer ones, the rhythmic slap of your hips meeting Chaeyoung's.

Somi adds a third finger inside Asa, stretching her, and Asa's hips buck off the mattress. Ning grabs Somi's shoulder to keep her balance. "Warn me before you do that, she almost threw me off."

"Not my fault Asa's a squirmer," Somi says, pumping faster. "You good down there, Asa?"

Asa pulls her mouth away from Ning just long enough to gasp, "So fucking good, oh my god, keep going,” before Ning pushes her head back down.

"Nope, you're not done," Ning tells her sweetly.

You shift your weight onto one arm and bring your free hand down between your body and Chaeyoung's. Your thumb finds her clit, swollen and sensitive, and you start rubbing in slow circles while you fuck her. The effect is instantaneous. Chaeyoung's whole body tenses, her grip on your shoulders turning desperate.

"Oh fuck," she gasps. "Oh fuck, that's not fair, you can't do both at the same time."

"Why not?"

"Because I'm gonna lose my mind, that's why." Her hips are grinding up to meet yours now, matching your rhythm, trying to get more of everything at once. "Your cock is literally splitting me open and now you're touching my clit and I can't, I actually can't—"

Yunjin, still grinding against Shuhua, looks over with pure delight on her face. "She's gonna blow. Look at her legs shaking."

Ning is rocking faster on Asa's face, she grabs her own breast, squeezing, her head tipping back. "Shit, I'm close too. Asa, please, keep going, I'm so close, I'm gonna cum so hard."

You press harder on Chaeyoung's clit, rubbing faster, your hips snapping into her with deep, steady strokes. She's clenching around you so tight it's almost difficult to move. Her moans have gone high and thin, her eyes squeezed shut, every muscle in her body coiling. "Look at me," you tell her quietly. She opens her eyes. They're glassy, overwhelmed, gorgeous. "Cum for me, Chae."

She shatters. Her back arches completely off the mattress, her legs lock around you, and her pussy clamps down on your cock in hard, rhythmic spasms. And then the gush comes. Warm and sudden, soaking your pelvis, the sheets beneath her, running down your thighs. She's squirting, hard, her whole body convulsing with it.

Yunjin's jaw drops mid grind. "Holy shit, she's squirting! She's literally squirting all over that poor mattress!"

The sight of it pushes Ning over. She grinds down on Asa's mouth one final time and cums, her thighs clamping around Asa's head, her fingers digging into Somi's shoulder hard. Asa cums seconds later from Somi's relentless fingers, her legs trembling and her muffled moans vibrating against Ning's cunt. Shuhua follows, burying her face in Yunjin's neck, flushed and panting, her hips stuttering through the last waves of her orgasm.

Somi pulls her fingers out of Asa, holds them up, glistening and dripping, and licks them clean with a look of pure satisfaction.

Chaeyoung is still trembling beneath you, aftershocks rolling through her. "I'm so sorry," she pants, looking down at the soaked sheets. "I came so hard. I couldn't help it. I've never done that before."

"Don't you dare apologize for squirting," Yunjin says firmly, wiping sweat from her forehead. "That was the hottest thing you could have possibly done."

Somi nods. "We'll deal with the mattress situation later. Not important right now."

"Agreed," Ning says, climbing off Asa's face and stretching. Her legs are still wobbly. She looks at your cock, still hard, still wet with Chaeyoung's cum, and her eyes sharpen with hunger. "Because I need that inside me right now. Immediately."

Yunjin sits up, her director energy returning. "Okay then. Asa, Ning, Shu. Line up. On all fours. Show us these pretty pussies." The three of them arrange themselves side by side on the mattress, knees spread, backs arched, asses presented. Asa, Ning, Shuhua. Three different body types, three different skin tones, all of them glistening with sweat and each other's spit.

Yunjin beckons you over. "Come fuck these little sluts, nerd.”

Somi circles around to the front of the lineup, taking her time as she studies them from the other side. Her gaze drifts over the three bent bodies, the way they’re all presented for you, and then she reaches out without warning and gives Shuhua’s ass a sharp smack. She jolts with a startled yelp, shooting Somi a scandalized look.

“Hey! Warn me before you start getting handsy.”

Somi only grins, entirely unbothered, then turns that wicked little expression on you. "Look at them. Three tight little pussies all lined up just for you. How's that feel?”

You stare at the three of them, each one looking back over her shoulder at you, waiting. Your cock throbs. "I genuinely cannot put what I'm feeling into words.”

Yunjin snorts, arms crossed. "Then stop trying to put it into words and start putting your cock in them. That's the only language they need right now.”

Asa, her ass arched perfectly, her cheek resting on her folded arms, glances back at Yunjin with a lazy grin. "Wow. Shakespeare could never.”

Yunjin kneels beside Shuhua and grabs both her cheeks, spreading them open with her thumbs, putting everything on display for you. Shuhua's pussy is glistening, swollen, absolutely dripping from her earlier orgasm and the continued arousal of watching everyone else get fucked.

"C'mon," she says, looking up at you with that insatiable grin. "Time to fuck."

There’s no teasing pause. You guide yourself against her and push in. The head breaches Shuhua's entrance and she immediately drops her forehead to the mattress, her fingers clawing at the sheets. You stop with just the tip inside, letting her adjust. Her walls are squeezing you so tight it's almost resistance. "Oh," Shuhua breathes. "Oh, that's... that is significantly larger than I anticipated."

Ning, still on all fours beside her, glances over. "Girl, breathe. You'll get used to it."

"Easy for you to say, you haven't taken it yet," Shuhua replies through gritted teeth, but she pushes her hips back slightly, taking another inch on her own terms. You grip her hips and feed her more, slow, steady. Shuhua's spine curves downward, her shoulder blades pinching together. When you're about three quarters in, she lets out this long, shaking exhale.

"I've used large toys before," she says, almost conversationally despite the strain in her tone. "This doesn't even compare. The heat, the way it throbs. It's completely different."

"You doing okay?" you ask, rubbing your thumb along her hip bone.

"More than okay. Please keep going." You bottom out inside her and Shuhua makes a sound you've never heard from her before. Something between a whimper and a laugh, surprised and overwhelmed and deeply pleased all at once. You start moving, pulling back slow and pushing in deep, establishing a rhythm that lets her feel every inch.

On the other end of the mattress, Somi has pulled Chaeyoung into her lap. They're kissing, messy and unhurried, Somi's hands tangled in Chaeyoung's hair. Somi breaks away and licks her lower lip.

"You were so fucking hot squirting like that," Somi murmurs against Chaeyoung's mouth. "I almost came just watching you." Chaeyoung blushes but grins. Her hand traces down Somi's stomach, over her navel, and slips between her thighs. She pushes two fingers inside Somi without warning. Somi gasps, her hips jerking forward. "Shit, Chae, warn a girl."

"You didn't warn me when you shoved my face down on his cock," Chaeyoung replies sweetly, curling her fingers.

Somi's head tips back. "Okay fair. Fuck. Keep going, baby. Finger that wet pussy while I watch them get wrecked."

You're building speed inside Shuhua now. Her initial tension has dissolved into pure pleasure, her hips rocking back to meet your thrusts. Yunjin hasn't moved from her spot beside the lineup. She leans in and spits directly on where your cock meets Shuhua's pussy, the saliva mixing with the mess already there.

"That's it," Yunjin says, watching with dark, hungry eyes. "Fuck her good. Look at how well she takes it now."

"Yunjin," Shuhua manages, "please stop narrating and let me enjoy this."

"Never. This is the best show I've ever seen."

You pull out of Shuhua and she whines at the loss. Ning is next. You shift over, position yourself behind her, and push in. Ning is wetter than Shuhua was, practically dripping down her thighs already, but she's just as tight. The first few inches make her gasp and grab the mattress. "Fuck me," Ning breathes. "Okay. Okay I get it now. I get why Yunjin lost her mind over this."

"Right?" Yunjin says proudly. "Told you." You sink deeper and Ning's arms give out. Her chest presses flat against the mattress, ass still raised, and you can feel her clenching around you, her body trying to accommodate the stretch. You give her a moment, then start thrusting. Ning buries her face in her arms and moans.

Yunjin spits on Ning's pussy too, then smacks her ass lightly. "Take that dick, Ning. You were bragging about your skills all week, show me you can handle it."

"I am handling it," Ning says, except she very clearly isn't. Her voice is trembling. "It's just... a lot. God, it's so much."

Across the mattress, Chaeyoung has migrated lower. She's got her mouth on Somi's left breast, sucking the nipple between her lips while her fingers keep working inside her. Somi watches her with hooded eyes, one hand on the back of Chaeyoung's head.

"I love your tits so much," Chaeyoung mumbles against the soft skin, switching to the other one. "They're ridiculous. Like genuinely unfair."

"Babe, you can have them whenever you want," Somi replies, arching into her mouth. "Just keep doing what you're doing with those fingers."

You pull out of Ning and move to Asa. She's been waiting patiently, her cheek resting on her folded arms, watching you fuck the other two with analytical interest. When you press against her entrance, she pushes back immediately, trying to take you in one motion. But her body resists. She only gets halfway before she hisses and stops.

"Shit," Asa says, surprised. "I thought I was ready. That's thicker than it looks."

"Take your time."

"No, just push. I can handle it." You push. Asa's fingers curl into fists and she breathes out hard through her nose, but she doesn't tell you to stop. When you're fully seated inside her, she lets out a low groan that sounds almost relieved. "Okay," she says. "Yeah. That's incredible actually."

You start fucking her, and Asa is different from the other two. She pushes back to meet every thrust, matches your rhythm instantly, treats it almost like a collaboration. Her pussy grips you perfectly, slick and hot and eager.

Yunjin is in her element. She moves between the three of them, spitting on each pussy as you rotate, slapping asses, gripping hair, running her nails down their spines. She's the conductor of this whole symphony and she's loving every second.

"Look at them," she says to you, spreading Asa's cheeks so you can watch yourself slide in and out. "Look at how they take that fat cock. They're soaking. All three of them are dripping for you."

You switch back to Shuhua. She cries out when you enter her again, pushing back greedily. Then to Ning, who's so wet now that the sounds are obscene, filthy and loud in the quiet store. Then Asa again, who grinds back against you with precision.

Yunjin crouches next to Ning's face and lifts her chin. "You like getting fucked like this? Getting shared? All three of you lined up like good little sluts?" Ning just moans in response, her eyes glassy. "If I'd brought my strap we could've been double teaming these pussies," she continues, looking back at you. "Next time. Definitely next time. Me and you, fucking them from both ends."

Somi pulls Chaeyoung's mouth off her breast to watch. "They look so good from here. Especially Shuhua. She's completely gone."

Chaeyoung nods, her fingers still buried inside Somi, pumping steadily. "She's always so put together. It's nice seeing her fall apart."

You keep rotating. Shuhua cums first. You're deep inside her, one hand on her hip, the other gripping her shoulder, and she turns her face to the side so you can see her expression when it hits. Her eyes flutter shut, her mouth opens, and she comes apart in these beautiful, controlled waves, her pussy milking your cock through each contraction. Somehow even this is elegant.

Asa goes next. You're gripping her waist, pounding into her at a pace she set herself, and her head drops forward. "There, there, fuck, right there, I'm cumming," she whispers, and her whole body seizes. Her walls clamp down so hard it almost stops your movement. She shakes through it, silent except for these tiny, breathy sounds.

Ning is last. You're still inside Asa when Yunjin says, "Ning needs to cum. Go wreck her." You pull out of Asa and push into Ning. She's so sensitive at this point that she flinches at the first thrust. Yunjin grabs a fistful of her hair and pulls her head back. "Grab her hair," Yunjin tells you. "Fuck her hard. She can take it."

You wrap Ning's hair around your fist and pull. She gasps, her back arching severely. You start pounding into her. Hard. Deep. Relentless. Ning's moans escalate rapidly into something approaching a scream.

"Ning!" Shuhua hisses sharply. "The security guard. Keep it down."

Ning slaps her own hand over her mouth, her eyes wide, her body jolting with each thrust.

The muffled sounds leaking through her fingers are still loud but contained. You don't stop. You fuck her through it, pulling her hair, driving into her until her thighs start shaking violently and she cums with a strangled sound behind her palm, her pussy contracting around you in hard, rhythmic squeezes. Her entire body goes limp when it passes, collapsing flat onto the mattress.

You pull out, wipe the sweat from your forehead, and sit back on your heels. Your cock is glistening, impossibly hard still, twitching against your stomach. "That was insane," you pant, looking at the three spent girls in front of you. "Seriously. I don't know how guys in porn last this long. My legs are shaking."

"Well," Somi says, extracting herself from Chaeyoung's fingers and crawling toward you. "You better hold on a little longer. Because now it's my turn."

She pushes you flat on your back. You hit the mattress with a grunt. Somi swings a leg over your hips, but instead of facing you normally, she plants her feet on either side of your chest, squatting over your cock in a deep stance. Her thighs flex, her core engages, and she grips the base of your shaft to line you up.

Yunjin slaps the mattress with both hands. "Yes! Amazon position! Go for it, Somi, ride that cock!"

Ning, still flat on her stomach recovering, lifts her head long enough to whistle. Shuhua immediately makes a sharp shushing sound at her, eyes wide.

Somi stares down at you, face unreadable except for that familiar look of mild annoyance she somehow manages to make attractive. Calm. Detached. In control. "Let's see what all the fuss is about," she says. "Everyone else completely lost their shit over this. I don't buy it.”

She lowers herself onto you. Inch by agonizing inch. In this position, squatting over you with her feet planted on either side of your chest, Somi controls everything. The angle, the depth, the speed. You can't thrust up, can't grab her hips, can't do anything except lie there and take what she decides to give you. Your cock stretches her open and you watch her face. She's fighting. Every micro expression is a battle between the pleasure flooding her body and the icy composure she refuses to drop, even as her jaw tightens and her breathing starts to lose its rhythm. Her thighs tremble as she sinks lower, swallowing more of you inside her, her pussy spreading around your girth.

She stops about halfway. Breathes. Then pushes down the rest of the way until her ass meets your pelvis and every inch of you is buried in her. Her eyes close for exactly one second. When they open again, she's rearranged her expression into something cool and unaffected.

"Okay," she says, looking down at you. "I'll give you this much. It's a pretty impressive cock." She shifts her hips, adjusting to the fullness, and you feel her walls squeeze around you involuntarily. "Real waste that it belongs to someone like you, though."

"Sorry about that," you reply, your breath catching as she clenches again. "I'll try to be hotter next time."

"Shut up. Don't talk. Just lie there and let me use you like the stupid little toy you are."

Somi starts moving. Slowly at first. She lifts her hips until barely anything remains, pauses for a second, then sinks back down with controlled force. The impact sends a sharp jolt through you. Then she does it again. And again. Gradually settling into a rhythm she seems satisfied with. Her pussy grips your shaft on every upstroke, wet and impossibly tight, then swallows you whole on the way back down.

The view from below is staggering. Somi's body is built for this. Her slim waist, her toned stomach flexing with each movement, and those massive breasts bouncing with every drop of her hips. They move almost independently, heavy and full, swaying and colliding against each other. Sweat is beginning to bead along her collarbones, rolling down between them.

Yunjin sits cross legged on the mattress, watching with her chin propped on her fist. "Okay, she looks fucking incredible doing that. Like, objectively."

Ning nods slowly, still recovering from her own orgasm, lying on her stomach with her chin in her hands. "It's giving professional athlete. The core strength alone."

"Seriously though," Asa adds, tilting her head to study Somi's form. "Look at the control she has. She's basically doing weighted squats right now. That's genuinely impressive."

Shuhua watches from beside Yunjin. "If I tried to do that, I would absolutely injure my lower back."

Asa glances at her. "That's because you used to walk around with your spine curved like a shrimp, Shu. You have the posture of someone who's been gaming for twelve hours straight. You only realized because Yunjin took that cursed picture of you.”

Yunjin barks out a laugh. Shuhua's mouth falls open. "That was truly offensive," Shuhua says quietly. "And for the record, I'm fixing it. My posture's good now. I bought a posture corrector and everything."

"Girl, that thing is still in the packaging on your desk," Ning says without looking up.

Somi ignores all of them. She's locked into her rhythm now, bouncing on your cock with increasing intensity, her hands braced on your chest for leverage. Each time she drops down, the sound of skin meeting skin is sharp and wet. Your hands are flat on the mattress because she hasn't given you permission to touch her, and somehow that makes it hotter. She's using you. Completely and totally.

Somi looks down at you, and her mouth curls into something between a smirk and a sneer. "God, you're adorable like this." She rolls her hips in a filthy slow circle, grinding your cock deep before picking her rhythm back up. "Pinned under me. Dumb and hard and just letting me take what I want. Like a good little fucktoy."

"View's pretty good from here too," you breathe, barely getting the words out while her cunt grips you on every drop.

"Yeah?" She lifts almost all the way off, just the tip, then slams her hips down so hard your vision whites out. "Nnngh— you like this? Like getting fucked stupid by a girl who doesn't give a shit if you cum? Just lying there taking it like an obedient little bitch?"

"Yes," you groan, hands fisting the sheets. "Fuck— yes, I like it.”

"Of course you do." She picks up speed, and the wet sounds get louder, filthier. Her breasts are bouncing so hard they're practically hitting her chin on every drop. "This is where you belong. On your back, getting used. You should be thanking me."

Yunjin starts clapping rhythmically, like she's at a sporting event. "Let's go Somi! Ride that dick! Let's go Somi!"

Ning immediately joins in, clapping along. "Bounce bounce bounce! Wreck that cock!"

Asa cups her hands around her mouth. "Give me an S! Give me an O! Give me an M!" Give me am I!”

Chaeyoung is giggling uncontrollably, clapping along with them.

Shuhua's eyes go wide. "Can you all please be quieter? There is a security guard somewhere in this building." They all drop to stage whispers, still clapping, still chanting, but at a fraction of the volume. Yunjin is whisper screaming "let's go Somi" with the intensity of a soccer mom at a championship game. Ning is doing quiet finger snaps. Asa is mouthing the letters of Somi's name with exaggerated lip movements.

Somi doesn't acknowledge any of them. She's grinding now, deep and circular, her clit pressing hard against your pelvis on every rotation. Her breathing has changed. Shorter. Sharper. That icy control is fracturing. You can see it in the way her thighs are shaking, the way her nails are digging into your chest, the way she keeps biting the inside of her cheek.

She speeds up again. Full bounces, slamming herself down, taking you to the root every time. Your cock is drenched in her, glistening in the low light. The mattress creaks beneath you. She tilts forward slightly, changing the angle, and her mouth opens in a silent gasp that she immediately tries to suppress.

"Fuck," she whispers. “Fuck…” She grinds down hard, circling her hips, pressing her clit against you with desperate pressure. Her thighs clamp around your sides. Her head drops forward, blonde hair curtaining her face, and her whole body locks up. You feel her pussy spasm around you in tight, rhythmic contractions, milking your shaft as the orgasm rolls through her. She grinds through every wave of it, extracting every last second, her hips stuttering and her breath coming in these ragged, broken exhales she can't quite control.

When it passes, she stays seated on you for a long moment. Still full of you. Catching her breath. Then she rises slowly, your cock sliding out of her with a wet, obscene sound, and she climbs off the mattress on slightly unsteady legs.

Somi rakes her fingers through her hair and gives you this perfectly curated look of mild disinterest. "Your dick's... fine. Nothing I couldn't replace with a ten-minute Amazon order.”

Yunjin snorts so hard she almost chokes. "Please. Even you don't believe that. I saw your legs shaking, Somi."

Somi's cheeks flush hot. "That doesn't mean anything. I'm not some pathetic slut who gets attached because a guy has a big dick. That's your department."

Yunjin doesn't flinch. Just smiles, soft and knowing. "You're so full of shit, babe. But it's cute. Keep pretending.” Somi rolls her eyes and turns away, but you catch the faintest trace of a smirk before she kills it.

Then Yunjin claps her hands once and the energy in the room shifts. "Okay. There's someone here who still hasn't gotten off." She looks at you pointedly. Your cock is still hard, still slick, throbbing against your stomach. "Stand up."

You get to your feet. Your legs are genuinely wobbly. Six pairs of eyes look up at you as the girls arrange themselves on their knees in a loose semicircle on the mattress. Asa to your left, Ning and Shuhua in the center, Yunjin to the right, Chaeyoung directly in front of you.

Somi steps forward. She reaches up and slides your glasses off your face. The world goes slightly blurry. Then she turns and places them carefully on Chaeyoung's face. The frames sit crooked on her smaller nose. She adjusts them, pushes them up, and looks up at you through the lenses with those big, pretty eyes.

Yunjin surveys the six of them kneeling around you and puts her hands on her hips. "Alright. Here's how we're doing this. I'll play distributor. Make sure everyone gets their fair share. No one girl hogging more than she's entitled to. Equal distribution of cum across all parties."

Shuhua tilts her head. "That's not really necessary. We're perfectly capable of organizing ourselves. No central authority needed. We just take turns, share naturally, everyone gets what they need."

Yunjin points at her. "And that is how you get one girl with a face full of cum and four girls with nothing. You need structure. Leadership. I'm the one who put this whole thing together. I organized the venue, the logistics, the communication. I am essentially the vanguard of this entire sexually transgressive movement." She pauses, then touches her hair with genuine regret. "Shit, I really should've brought a beret.”

Somi tilts her head back, closes her eyes, and exhales through her nose. "We're literally waiting for him to cum on our faces and you two are doing dialectics.”

"You're not the vanguard of anything," Shuhua replies calmly. "You're just horny and bossy. Those aren't the same thing."

Ning snorts. Asa covers her mouth.

"Can you two please shut up and start sucking," Chaeyoung says flatly, already wrapping her hand around your shaft. Your glasses sit crooked on her face, way too big for her, and she looks up at you through them with this expression that's equal parts sweet and filthy. She leans forward and takes the head into her mouth, her tongue swirling around it, tasting the combined slick of every girl who rode you tonight.

"Fine. Actions over theory. I can respect that,” Yunjin says before she ducks her head and runs her tongue along the left side of your shaft while Chaeyoung works the tip. Ning joins from the right, her tongue tracing a vein from base to mid shaft.

Three mouths on you at once. Your cock is more than big enough to accommodate them. Chaeyoung sucks the head with these slow pulls, her cheeks hollowing, while Yunjin and Ning lap at the shaft from either side, their tongues occasionally meeting and sliding against each other.

Somi kneels behind Chaeyoung, watching over her shoulder. "Tilt your head more, Chae. You're losing the angle."

Chaeyoung adjusts and takes you deeper, the glasses sliding down her nose. She pushes them back up with one finger without missing a beat.

Asa taps Ning's shoulder. "My turn." Ning pulls back and Asa takes her place, her technique immediately different. More controlled, more rhythmic. She sucks along the side of your shaft in long, measured strokes, her hand cupping your balls, rolling them gently. She remembers from the library how sensitive they are.

Shuhua waits patiently until Chaeyoung comes up for air, then leans in and takes over the tip. She's less hesitant than she was in the car. Something about tonight has unlocked her. She takes you halfway down without flinching, her throat relaxing around you, and holds there for a few seconds before pulling back with spit connecting her lips to your cock.

"Good girl, Shu," Yunjin murmurs approvingly, stroking Shuhua's hair back from her face.

"Don't patronize me," Shuhua replies, then immediately goes back down on you.

They rotate. Pairs and trios. Somi finally takes her turn, and true to form, she's rough about it. She grabs the base and sucks hard, her tongue doing something cruel and brilliant against the underside of the head. When she pulls off, she spits on your cock and strokes it with both hands, spreading the saliva, then passes you to Yunjin, who takes you to the root in one smooth motion. She holds you in her throat, her nose pressed against your pelvis, her long tongue extending to lap at your balls while you're still buried in her mouth. Asa watches with genuine admiration.

"That's physically impressive," Asa says. "Like, anatomically."

Yunjin pulls off with a wet gasp and grins. "Talent, baby."

Ning and Chaeyoung work you together next. Chaeyoung on the shaft, Ning sucking your balls into her mouth one at a time, humming against them. Then Shuhua and Asa, Shuhua taking the head while Asa licks the base. Then Somi alone, because Somi doesn't share well, her massive tits pressed against your thighs as she bobs her head with aggressive speed.

Your legs are trembling. The gummy bear you ate before coming to the mall is doing its job. You can feel the pressure building, heavy and dense, your balls tight and aching with the volume they're carrying. Every rotation of mouths pushes you closer. Six different techniques, six different temperatures, six different rhythms. It's sensory overload.

Yunjin can tell you're getting close. She reads your body, the way your stomach muscles tighten, the way your breathing goes shallow. "He's almost there," she announces. "Everyone get in position."

The six of them arrange themselves in a tight semicircle on their knees, faces upturned, close together. Chaeyoung in the center with your glasses still perched on her face. Yunjin and Somi flanking her. Asa, Ning, and Shuhua filling in the gaps. Twelve eyes looking up at you. Six open mouths.

You wrap your fist around your shaft and start stroking. Fast, tight, your hand slick with six girls' spit. "Cum for us," Yunjin says, her tongue extended. "Give your little pornstars everything you've got. I wanna be dripping."

"Cover my face," Ning adds, licking her lips. "I want to taste it again. Give me what you gave me in the car."

Somi tilts her chin up. "Don't you dare miss me."

Chaeyoung just looks at you through your own glasses, her mouth open, waiting. She doesn't need to say anything. The image alone almost sends you over.

"Paint us pretty," Asa says. "All of us. Don't leave anyone out."

Shuhua closes her eyes and tilts her face upward. "I'm ready."

You cum. And the gummy delivers. The first rope hits Chaeyoung across the bridge of your glasses, splattering the lenses, dripping down onto her nose and lips. She gasps and keeps her mouth open, catching the next spurt on her tongue. You angle toward Yunjin and she catches a thick streak across her forehead and cheek, letting it drip down to her chin. She moans, savoring it.

You move to Somi and land a heavy load across her lips and jaw, cum sliding down her neck onto her collarbones and the tops of her breasts. She doesn't flinch. Doesn't blink. Just takes it.

Asa gets the next several spurts. Across her nose, her left cheek, her open mouth. She swallows what lands on her tongue and lets the rest sit on her skin. Ning leans in eagerly and catches a rope from her hairline all the way down to her chin, cum beading on her eyelashes. She licks it from the corner of her mouth and grins. Shuhua receives the final waves, thick streaks landing across her forehead and cheeks. She keeps her eyes closed through it, her lips parted, cum dripping from her jaw onto her bare chest.

And it keeps coming. The gummy turns what should be a normal orgasm into something absurd. You go back through the lineup, adding more to each face. A second coating on Chaeyoung's glasses, now completely opaque with cum. More on Yunjin's neck and tits. Another streak across Somi's parted lips. By the time you're finally spent, shaking, your hand still wrapped around your softening cock, all six of them are glazed. Thoroughly, comprehensively, disgustingly covered.

The store is silent for a moment.

Then Yunjin starts laughing. Then Ning. Then all of them. Chaeyoung takes the glasses off and holds them up, both lenses completely coated, and that sends everyone into hysterics.

"That was unreal," Asa says, wiping cum from her eyebrow. "Genuinely, medically, that shouldn't be possible."

"I told you guys, these gummy bears are straight-up magical. Holy shit,” Yunjin beams, cum dripping off her chin.

Somi examines the mess on her chest with raised eyebrows. "Okay. I take back what I said earlier. His cock is more than 'fine'."

Asa stands up first, grabbing her shirt from the floor. "Okay. This was incredible. But we need to get out of here before sunrise."

Shuhua freezes mid laugh. "How exactly are we getting out of here, by the way?"

Six girls exchange glances. A long, terrible silence.

Asa looks at Yunjin. "Please tell me you planned the exit."

Yunjin blinks. "My plan went as far as the orgy part. I figured we'd improvise after."

Somi turns to Shuhua slowly. "You're supposed to be the smart one. Please tell me you thought about this."

"The idea wasn't even mine!" Shuhua protests. "And if I were truly the smart one in this group, I wouldn't have come here at all. I was driven entirely by lust, which I am not proud of."

Chaeyoung wipes your glasses on the sheet and puts them back on. "I mean, to be fair, every single person here was driven by lust. Not one of us was thinking logically tonight."

Ning sits back on her heels and surveys the scene. Cum on their faces. A mattress stained beyond repair with squirt. A clearly vandalized store.

"This is fantastic. We're stuck in a mall with the evidence of multiple crimes on our bodies and on this three thousand dollar mattress."

Shuhua nods solemnly. "Yeah, we're done for. Roll credits. Little cartoon circle closing in around our faces and everything." She sighs. "'That's all, folks.'”

All six of them turn to look at you. Hopeful. Desperate, even. Ning clasps her hands together. "Please tell me you have an idea."

You look past them toward the back of the store. Storage area. Receiving dock. "The store's on the first floor. There's gotta be a back door for deliveries. Loading area that opens to the outside. And somewhere back there, a spare key or a push bar."

The relief on their faces is instantaneous. Shoulders dropping. Exhales all around. Yunjin throws her arms up. "See? No reason to panic. Everything was under control the entire time. I planned for this."

"You absolutely did not," Shuhua says flatly.

"Details. Minor details." Yunjin stretches her arms above her head and rolls her neck. Then she looks at you with that familiar, dangerous glint. "So. Who wants a second round?"

Chaeyoung sputters. "Now? Here? We literally just figured out how to escape."

"We have time! The back door isn't going anywhere. And neither is his dick." She gestures at you. "Look at him. He's already getting hard again."

She's not wrong. The gummy's still doing its job. Somi glances down, then looks back up at you. "You seriously got another round in you?”

You look at the six of them. Flushed, sweaty, ridiculously attractive. Still hanging around half delirious at two in the morning in a dark mattress store. Somehow this is reality now.

"For you guys," you say, "I think I can power through.”

Asa smirks. Somi rolls her eyes but she's already moving toward you. Yunjin claps once, saying, "Then it's settled. The night continues." She pushes you back onto the mattress and the rest of them follow, six bodies closing in around you, hands and mouths everywhere.

–

“Ready?” Anna asks you, anticipatory. 

You nod in compliance; the routine finally begins: 

First step: your right foot goes forward, Anna’s goes backwards - she’s one to seek first when you least expect it, falling under introspection- Step two: left foot goes to the side - Anna, like always, is adamant to introduce a new concept to you she discovers- 

Step three: right foot follows same pathing as the left - it’s something new (plausible), plus it’s something you’ll find intriguing (perhaps), and lastly I appreciate you trusting my ideas, a lot- 

Step four: left foot backwards, and Anna’s foot does your pathing now - and it adds the suggestion of how she paints these expressions - these stepping stones into her heart- 

Step five: right foot goes to the side - and you’re feeding into the curiosity because of the wanting to go beyond the nearness of each other- 

Final step: left foot trails behind - then suddenly, once the tension’s thickened to a point where it’s nearly suffocating, inches away from closing the space; you break away from kissing her, and the loop repeats- 

Like a neverending record - going on forever and ever; which in itself, is also a dance. You dance with Anna hoping to have the waltz embedded into the learning algorithm. Hope to eclipse the feelings, dangerously calculated to an eventual outcome. Before the new mission parameters were delivered, you browsed through Anna’s tarot cards since most of the checks were already completed by then. Diagnostics and readings were leveled; other amenities were stored properly. You’re coworkers, crewmates, two beings longing for warmth. Your reflection doesn’t see you any different. 

You remember the first time Anna offered to dance. Ignorant and dismissive aside, you couldn’t bring yourself to match her gaze. And it’s not often that you would dilute time into anything else outside of protocol, for one thing. 

At times, Anna would wander in the ship with her mind clouded with slumber and darkness, wearing her fleet’s blazer or some dusty jacket over her sleepwear - considering the Primrose was cold, and (as you’ve deduced) the nights were colder. It’s especially a rarity to see Anna’s bare shoulders, let alone the chapped lips up close and in detail, or question the thought that it's worrying to study her in a more intimate appearance. 

She’s not an object subjected for your pleasure. You know this well enough, and it’s all the more reason to not delve beyond that conclusion. 

You’ve exceeded in doing so. Countless cycles lost in the vastness of space until you felt her tongue clash against yours. Mistakes like that are what makes us human. 

Passionate. Engulfing. It had those two characteristics and so much more. Why wouldn’t it have more? It’s easy to notice in the exchanges you two share: explain to me how we get ahead of ourselves is one of the many caveats she presents, and soon your composure warbles away from common sense and nothing seems to compute. You have a hard time picking up the semantics and decoding because some of the terms are indiscernible, trying to process and understand. Another slow waltz, maybe. Don’t hide. It’s futile to try. Kiss me. 

Once everything eases, and the sweat subsides on the shores of skin faded into the covers of her bed. Your mouth slacks, frozen. Anna’s paintings: with a boat and two figures sitting inside, on the endless ocean, give a close interpretation of the threshold waiting to be passed - the Primrose’s mission, to be exact. 

Though Anna’s paintings are her stories - her soul, and you’ve looked there rather than her eyes. Found desperation and desire to escape. Left her quarters riddled with in her taste, and stare deep into the reflection of the mirror and feel the sticky gloss on your cheek. 

You’ve processed (and stabilized) the state of elation. Straying away from comfort you deemed as ‘unstable’. Though some aspects were appropriate, change was always an incalculable factor, therefore: unstable. States on the brink of war and terror were unstable. Unstable synapses firing in your brain seeing Anna’s nightgown in its sheer appearance. You have trouble computing the idea of her - how you want her, and quite literally: all of her.

-

(Here’s what you did since the kiss: going through the log of reports and requests that were for her eyes only. Countless days and hours in the mission and Anna’s been far removed in being professional (and luckily, it’s just you and the computer receiving these messages): 

> status report, Anna Tanaka, quoting on the screen: "unfortunately ive decided to not care and will not read the attachments sent to me.” 

> service inquiry, Anna Tanaka, about the sudden drop in oxygen levels, quoting: “so what if i don’t breathe, one of us will be alive anyway.”

> mission advisory, Anna Tanaka, at approximately 00:00 hours, quoting: “what if we just steer this fucking ship off into the burning sun representing our love, huh?” 

You are both idiots. As Anna would allegedly claim.)

–

Thankfully, you’ve disciplined yourself in running through the usual checks, rather than acting like you don’t know what’s going on. 

In your discovery, this would’ve been the perfect time to do that order from a few megacycles ago: get in the spacesuit and fix that shitty panel that kept blinking on the monitor while getting tangled with the cable while laughing with Anna about how dense you were about your emotions; say a shitty comeback about Anna’s bedside manner and justify the warning was from a few scrapes of damage left by the small debris when traveling through the rings of Indiga (eloquently summarized in your readings back to mission control): “we had to adjust our course to help compensate for the trajectory of the planet’s ring pathway.” 

Once that was done, now you could debug the Primrose’s balance from the cockpit. No way to tell when you might make landfall at the next world nearby. What might happen when Anna steps off the ramp without any protective gear on; finds out the ground is incredibly toxic, and melt right off the face of the planet. 

–

Anna insisted on going outside, but you rejected the suggestion and took her place instead. 

Venturing into an atmosphere mixing the pressurized gas of the decompression chamber - the sub-zero temperatures acting as a good barrier to start in creating space. New objective: distance yourself ; keep focus and all thoughts rational.

You wander and think while crossing the icky, green fog blending into the hills. 

In doing so, you helplessly think about her. 

–

When you return. She’s wearing the same nightgown from before. 

“You’re back!’ Standing in the middle of the sliding door watching you dust off the collective dirt on your arms. “Do you wanna practice dancing again?” 

Twisting your gaze, she leans forward, the strap skating off her shoulder. It’s a brief moment in the dialogue - the one running through your head, frozen at the request. “I think you got it this time.” Anna’s so willing - I know, I’m overbearing, letting you do these things out of tempo as we’re kissing, so please- I beg- and she’s frightfully intentful in making it worse. 

Intentful for one thing, yet thrilling for someone like her to be ambitious - making you fold in a game of poker while she held her hand (a pair when you bought her bluff), and it’s simple to deduce all other hypotheticals as well. She’s a bug in your line of code, manifested to to defy all rational calculations. How she easily reads what you tell - even more horrifying to be solved and understood. 

She makes you feel like a human being; help defy your maker that much more difficult. 

–

So, again- 

You’re dancing with her. She praises the improvement, humming. You’re not stepping on her feet as much compared to the first time. Every step and move is carried with precision, sometimes hazy and fritzing the logic; falter one motion, and your hand slides lower to the divots on her back. 

“I still have trouble understanding,” you tell her, “The significance of dancing on Toyama.” 

Anna slots herself at your arms and middle, blinking. She doesn’t say anything to answer, going through the steps, saying, “it’s an intimate connection with the person you like.” 

Swaying left, then right, your feet do the same. Her skin touching feels electric. “Somewhat answers my question,” you drawl, hesitant, “doesn’t help the prolonged eye contact, though.” 

“Like what you see?” 

“I’d prefer to consider it uncouth.” 

Anna shelters her smile. “Here I thought wearing this gown would get you more curious.” 

Your foot skates forward on accident. Faltering. Stumbling. This dance, you presume, isn’t entirely subtle - the same could be said for coming up with a lousy alibi, too - but it would be extremely unordinary for either of you to take the long way ‘round in the space with each other. Any flash of impatience simply taints the comforting moments, and you’re not willing to try. 

“You still believe I’m not bad news for you?” She asks, pressing closer; your hand holding hers and the warmth so close. A finger brushes her cheek and the touch sensitive, makes you wonder about the adversities her mind and figure has gone through to get to this moment. I could’ve fucked you off if I wanted to, she probably would’ve said, the weight frugal and heavy in her words. You blank out and don’t actually answer, which leads to Anna lecturing another lesson: “In Toyama,” she starts, “dancing has a very special meaning, one that transcends beyond connections. It’s dangerous to the point that the practice had to be prohibited by the nation.” 

Though you shake your head at that. The State didn’t have a say in this setting at all. You ponder and get inquisitive. “Why would it pose a threat in the first place?” 

“Unity,” answers Anna. “With dance-” lifted into a spin and your raised arm, and the surroundings start to blur in your optics, “it’s not just the bodies joining as one. Your hearts, too. Linking that forms a bond, and binds all of us together. Yet the State seems to think otherwise.” 

“Destabilization and discord, yes?” 

“Not exactly. I was thinking more of being- intimate,” she chuckles. “Think of it as dissension and intimacy going up against facism. We’d be probed by others because it’s so foreign.” 

Here your feet and hers start to mirror. Then the thought of being intimate creeps into your mind, how your build isn’t meant for it - the design is flawed - you can’t help but feel automatically dejected because of it. Being curious about yourself has left you so disappointed that it can’t even be self-pleasure let alone masturbation. Your body is desperately wanting to be something more than just an object at rest - something more, something that can not be at rest. 

Tilting your gaze, Anna reflects. “Maybe the Higher One is seething at us making the most of this journey,” you smirk. 

“I believe so. They can’t relate to us,” she says. “We’re impossible to punish, and willing to defy; every step in dance is just a symbiosis of angling the bodies together, counting and feeling the music-” 

“There you go again, Anna. God, you really can’t help yourself.” You huff, which rewards a hearty laugh out of her.

“What?! Did you hear what you just said?” You notice the twinkle in her brown eyes when she knows she’s unbearably bewitching. “I’ve been teaching you the wrong thing - do you see your feet? Why are they matching mine? They’re both the same?” 

“I find the humor to be confusing, still.” 

“You’re still stuttering behind me, and listening to my terrible rendition of reciting literature,” says Anna. “I find you to be adorable and want to show my affection by never losing you.” 

You agree. Of course I don’t want you to let go of me, but the physical aspect of your body and hands meeting hers is still a work in progress. Which can also be noticed in being gullible to her antics and the ugly handwriting of practicing Kanji she wanted you to try every now and then. 

“The letters change the whole meaning of the word,” you say. “Now I know there’s a difference between ‘go’ and ‘ko’ depending on the context.” 

Anna’s laugh fills your ears. “I commend you for the effort.” Her heels are above the floor with a chaste kiss to your lips - deliberate, but full of life, she could’ve worn a different garment without being aware of shifting fabric morphing to her figure. It’s that, and how she would’ve done a different activity rather than dancing without welcoming the risk. You try your best to guess her next move before she makes it, which ends up failing every single time. 

At the corner of your eyes: memories of a time long past, the blend of thick and thin lines tearing like a faulty television screen. Flickers, you’ve deduced. Visions of a love finally found - a love finally complete. 

One step to the side, then back. Your frame bends to her will and you wished it was the ship’s hull instead, because it was pointless to compute. For someone that isn’t really you - it can be discouraging as a clone- 

To hell with all of that. 

“Do that again,” Anna instructs, requesting a spin. 

And you comply. 

Her dress slithers off at the shoulders, uncovering skin healed from scratches and bite marks. Holding back was an option you deeply thought about, and might’ve been the right choice the other night. You did hold back and restrain from doing any more damage, but the urge can easily break like glass, and things like that are meant to be destroyed. 

The first spin request flows her hair so nicely, and you repeat the same move because it’s enjoyable. Because she’s beautiful. And because this moment might be captured in this floating time capsule across space. Her firm body against fragile threads; the move slips the strap down to her arm. Anna giggles. Tugs it back with two fingers onto her collar. 

Aw. You see her eyes dart at the porcelain skin. I meant to do that. 

You pull her close. Raise her left hand to your right. “You’re not fooling anyone,” she announces flatly. 

“What?” 

Anna’s eyes squint, “Staring at what happened. I saw that,” it’s a careless praise. 

“Why yes,” you nod proudly. Explaining isn’t a thought when you’re deeply influenced (and to her eyes, she finds you cuter like this). Being irrational is also against your logic, but it’s really nothing but these ideas: pinning Anna to the wall behind you and kissing her, or getting her on your lap (to kiss her) before she drops to her knees (and spreading your legs); the simplicity of yielding to addictive temptation fueled by her intentions, strip her singular garment and watch as the color blossoms on her skin. It’s all leveled. You’re swaying one side of the room with her. Left foot out, right foot follows. Right foot out, left foot follows. Continuously. There isn’t a reason for you to keep your mouth closed around her, and soon you feel your voice tightening with one end grasping to rational thought, as the other tied between Anna’s fingers. 

She sees it in your face; the lump forms in the throat. “Having fun, my love? Happy?” 

“Very,” you say. Grinning, drunk on her uplifting gaze. “Not sure how much I can keep myself together.” Being honest can also be a mistake, too. To that, Anna smiles: she knows, and it’s horrifying. “Because you want me,” she deduces, guiding your arms down to her hips. You hold them there. It’s awfully cute how she has to get on her tiptoes to try to whisper. “The tension’s rising higher between us, yes?” “It’s because,” you sigh, “you’re incapable of persuading.” Your name rings through your ears, every tap of her fingertips is a new surge of electricity. Soon her palm is on your cheek; you keep staring down. “Hey, hey- my eyes are here.” The fine beauty is all in the details: the gentle blush canvased across her cheeks, the humble glow on her chest; with the cool air running through the hull, her nipples poke through the nightgown. Behind those pretty lashes and eyes is a constellation that’s gentle and inviting. The real fine beauty above everything is the balance of arousing need she exudes that seems to match, well- yours. 

Anna taps your cheekbone, giggling. “It’s impressive that you’re failing to realize the effect I have on you.” She makes you feel small - not in fear, but in the rush of reality. “Your gambit rarely succeeds in holding up to mine; with my desires, at least.” Here - the lingering thoughts of regret are snuffed out. You’ve played her games full of deception and bluffs over the little things, and this wasn’t any different. When you finally speak, your jaw is trembling. “I’ve done my best to- stay composed and professional.” 

Despite this, Anna’s face winces; her body seizes as she starts to break. “This again,” her voice seethes, “if you really stopped giving a fuck about control, you would push me down, rip off my skirt, we would both get the same thing in the end.” You stop her movements, and the dance ends. The grip on her wrist grows steel tight. “Anna,” and her eyes roll back at the hiss passing your teeth. “God- fuck. How can you be so fucking straightforward?” “Because I am,” she answers, pushing off. Not meeting her in the eyes is equally painful. “Mind you, that wasn’t a request. I’m being vocal about what I want- what I’m begging for.” Memories come flashing back in flickers: you, spent, uncontrollable - this revolving game with Anna; like the main rockets shot the Primrose deep into the unknown corners of space, there wasn’t a way back home to where things were normal - and honestly, why should either of you care?

You and her can’t help yourselves. Unbridally kissing with flung arms over each other.

The only thing you hear above the smacked lips is the occasional beeping of the flight controls. This new abode - now one with the stars.

Her lips push you back and you’re matching it. Two days ago, Anna was ecstatic to discover your tongue; feel the subtle clack of teeth - her lovely laugh when she’s riddled with bite marks after figuring out all the forms your bodies meld together. Even now - it’s an unknown concept in itself, still- that control was still a possible option to consider.

“It’s not fair - how perfect you are,” praises Anna, thumb grazing beneath your eyes. “Why are you so-”

“You’re beautiful, it’s fucking absurd,” you compliment. Simple, for one, but it makes her smile brighter, and the talk is pointless when all you want to do is make out with her.

Anna gets you good with her mouth. How they slot themselves against yours, easy to pass air between them before it’s all suffocated in teeth and tongue. The only thing that splits your being apart is the fact that you can’t sweat and she can. You have an automated pulse, unlike hers which is real. Blood does not rise in your skin compared to Anna’s; you can’t resonate the same electricity flowing through her body at the merest graze of your fingers that makes her shudder- There’s a reason to be vocal here, to communicate. Actually, you should communicate and speak up; since you haven’t a clue what you’re doing at all.

You pause and pull back. “Wait,” you slip out in a rush, “what are we even doing?” Anna sighs with an inward lip, catching the spit left behind on her chin. “What do you think we’re doing? Being straightforward. Intrusive- shit, when isn’t a time where I wanted to keep kissing you?”

“Maybe we- ugh.” No point in reasoning: you have to shut her up. “I’m not even sure about-” “So what if we’re overcomplicating it, hm?”

“If we are-” her lips are back smacking in between words, “there wouldn’t be a reason to reflect on it at all.”

“That’s it,” says Anna. Kissing you fervently. “I want this- let me-” It’s impulsive - infectious, even. It doesn’t click in your mind once she’s pinned you to the beam of the cargohold, raising your arms. You let that happen. Are you allowed to want it? Would you be okay to rethink your existence and your place in this life? Giving everything beyond your body? For her? Plus- isn’t she your fucking captain?

The conversation bleeds into physical touches. Perhaps your questions may serve more purpose through your bodies, but you find a pointless question worth asking: “is this okay for me? To do this?”

“Kiss me again. Hard.” Anna commands. You kiss her, she kisses back. “Touch me. Play with my body.” Her mouth presses to yours once more. “Reject this if you want, I’ll keep begging, please-” she stops halfway and meets your eyes, “make me yours, as you never want to let me go-”

“What do you want, sweetheart?”

“Fuck me. I want you to fuck me.” Pinching the hem, and all you see is the skin of her exposed thigh. “This is the right way to wear this, for your information.”

She lifts the fabric like it’s the final barrier of your restraint.

Anna’s tongue slips into your mouth sweetly, fingers joining yours. She’s putting everything on the balls of her feet and submitting you to her will. All of your thoughts - your words; hell, you could even include the whole damn ship with it - these pretty, meaningless thoughts quell within your throat. Nothing could ever predict this, the shifting dynamic in the rising power and diminishing submission, just the pure desire and lustful look beneath those eyes.

Her leg slots between yours. Mistake #1: you slip down the wall. Mistake #2: you’ve fallen to the floor where Anna has to kneel (on your lap). Her body has a mind of its own when she settles down and the dress is spread between her thighs and the fabric rises at the crease of her leg. Past the harsh liplocks, the teeth get involved, biting. Accidentally first and soon on purpose. You like to brand her body that way, tug the roots of her hair and hear her gasp into your mouth.

“Bed- I need you in my bed, now.” Anna says with urgency. The catch here is that she doesn’t move nor allow you to move. Judgment is a small choice, but it’s nowhere to be found: neither logical or one to seek an agreement towards. Planning could never happen even if you tried. The same could be said for the ideas since they’re fizzled into kisses once you breathe a single word, laced in the dripping spit on your chins or suffocated in your throats entirely. Your mouths are one way to be inside each other.

The floor remains cold, uncomfortable. Not having Anna’s mouth on yours or the other way around for a few seconds - by your shared preference - is much, much worse that it’s not even sought after.

“-pretty, so pretty,” you praise - and, possibly the only thing you can say to Anna. She shuts you up. Stop- stop talking. I fucking need you.

Finding the breakthrough, and there’s a middle ground: your leg high up the opening where she hunches over to your chest, gasping in reverence. Finally. Her teeth find places on your neck and shoulder to bite. She’ll taste iron and polyethylene, but in the subconscious, you’ll feel it; unlike the other memories in movies and polaroids and the many, many emotional breakdowns you’ve experienced in this spot before - the moment is warm, and very comforting. In its full, real rawness.

“Baby,” Anna groans. She says the pet name in a string of others amongst the actual one. The real name is really the only secret of yours she has some relent towards. You realize Anna’s small frame: how the slopes of her ribs deviate and the vertebrae compressing when she’s tense, the fragility of it is reckless against yours, and your hands are having a fun time in the forward and back movement, grinding.

You keep kissing Anna, kiss her to the point where she can barely breathe and her voice doesn’t go beyond a whimper. Nibble her bottom lip, then the skin around it. Her nails, although chewed, would mark indents of crescent moons into your back or create sketches of red - or you’d wish that’d be the case if you had skin like hers, but she’ll leave her scars elsewhere. Studying her expressions lost in the rapture of you is enough; the grind on your leg is already enough. The desire she exudes is purely authentic, unadulterated, clearly seen in the places she wants to seize- it’s fucking you up. You’re belittled to nothing but a person with disintegrating ideas you once thought about her: how these assumptions may all be a façade, these contradictory wishes, you being too dull, too cold or insensate, too- artificial.

Anna cums. She cums all over your leg. The second it happens surprises you both. Your uttered name is no more than a sound following a seeping moan into your chest. Her head falls forward: shattered, breathless, her body goes loose; her sobbing eyes and cunt wetting you, her delicate fingers, and that dangerous, dangerous mouth - it’s- a lot, too much, unbearable, you hold her, hold her up until-

“Fuck. I-” she sputters, tense at the shoulders. “Why am I-” All of a sudden, she’s- laughing? “I’m the worst. I’m a fucking whore.”

Hesitant to move, you keep your hands to her hips. Blotches of a light purple will blossom in the form of your fingertips. You’re stuck processing the entire occurrence still. “Well that’s-” you barely get out (and your voice is static), “-adorable. Very adorable of you, Anna.” “Yeah,” says Anna, shaikily. “Sorry, uh- I didn’t mean to do that. On you.”

You purse your lips, smirking. “Just taking care of things.”

Anna lets the rest of the weight fall onto you. She likes to hit your forehead with her own; for affection. Exhaustion is a quiet intimacy, and you breathe her in, observe (omit the interaction) the beads of sweat and little baby hairs on her hairline, the cute blush of pink below her eyes, the tiny hairs she’s missed while shaving. The strings on her dress from behind are tangled in a disorganized web: meticulous, but the former since it was impossible for it to be done by her hand. Before the program, you learned that her mother was a seamstress - pledging to an endeavor of exploration in the Primrose with a blank map into the unknowns. You assume she wanted to feel sexy (sometimes). Like she knew that touching herself would be a surefire way to pass time, and you’re curious enough to find more secrets about her.

There were countless times when the secrets were revealed. There was always a reason behind them; learning how an orgasm was plausible enough for Anna to call herself a whore, for example, and while the term may be loaded, it’s possible to think that there’s more to the word. Reasons for behaviors tend to have thorns, and (complexity aside) it’s the best judgement to never expand on them.

Anna’s second kiss is quick. Heavy. Sensual. Dials back the desperation, lets the intimacy simmer there, separating when she can and joining when she’s ready for more, not closing her eyes all the way. Her hand cradles your face before it drifts down to your chest, the fine muscle at your abs, staying there. Slowly. Graciously. Unintentional.

Her fingers skate over where the sensation of touch is still foreign. Diverted away from how she holds your face, Anna’s presence is a binary yes or no with no nuance or eroticism. She breathes color into aspects where they lack, and it’s the irony in your tragic existence: the cryptic soldier riddled with trauma you’ve adopted would have yearned for the goodness between her thighs, in the same fashion you’ve shared the longing for a dysphoric body like hers, if only you could feel anything.

Unlike that version of you in a past life, you’ll abstain from making the same mistake and leap at the chance to live through your partner, and it’s a choice you won’t regret making.

Anna rejected any kind of that delirious thought. “Join me, on my bed. Please, I need you,” she says. Her voice is spent. It takes nearly the little strength she had left, hobbling and soon crumpling in a way her dress exposes the remaining arousal stained on her legs.

Fuck. You rasp in deprecation. “Anna. Anna?”

No response.

“Anna?” Anna repeats.

Your mouth slacks. Being clinical about sex wasn’t the best case to carry on from committing such an act, but for insurance. “Hey. You have to tell me- and I understand if you’re feeling hesitant, but-” your hands are doing this gesture like you’re explaining complete nonsense, and maybe it is complete nonsense. You can’t talk dirty to the girl for your life- “may I- and how you say, perhaps clean you up with consent?” 

Anna laughs, incredulous. She gives an ‘why do you even have to ask so cutely’ face. “Are you kidding?” The eye smile and shattering grin is teetering towards insanity, and her voice trembles. “Look at me.” You blink through it. “Look at what you did to me- honey, I’m fucking dripping-” 

Impulse floods your brain like an ocean sinking you to the bottom. Freezing awkwardness creeps in at the same time. There’s no denying it: you want to taste her. Pick her up from the floor and fling her into the mattress and feel her quivering cunt throb over your tongue. Things would be a lot easier to take your cock inside her on the matter - but your fingers will have to do for now - a lazy attempt where the memories of your prior versions have had the same feeling too- -then it all spins in your head. Anna’s palm flat on your chest, pushes you upright. “Stop.” Fuck- you didn’t mean to- that wasn’t supposed to happen. Did you fuck up? “You’ve got something there,” she points. “On your leg.” You part your legs further as she kneels to lick her own cum off your thigh. The sound released from your mouth exemplifies the break in composure. You’re sure it echoed into the ship. It’s just the two of you, after all. The overarching notion of subtlety - if any  remained - dissipates into the air. Slow, intimate, romantic sex is fun and unattainable until it’s a thing you no longer want - even when your figure is hollow and all you can do is fuck your psychology into her till her body breaks. Sex is another way of communication; to fuck with someone equally as it’s fucking them. The dynamic resets; a passion reignited. You grasp at Anna’s hair. “Look at you, just a fucking-” and whore would be too on the nose, too nice. Slut is a good reach, but the intent is deep in the actions (and embarrassingly so), she grins right back. “Baby.” Anna calls, playful. She’s pretty when she’s on her knees. “We do it your way. How ‘bout I clean you up and have my own fun-” it stops short with a hum and a bit lip, you’re smiling along with her, absurdly. Someone like her can be embarrassing without bite, but she lets it be known. You’re both idiots; sex is a silly thing to inherit, and that’s exactly how this will go. “Yes please,” you confirm - it’s improv at this point, fancying a gamble and nervous about what's to come. “Please.”

The script flips. Anna’s tongue laps the spot where her clit would be, but it’s your cock. She lifts back, slightly. Her kisses are wet and real. Now your arousal is the gravity and past the event horizon, succumbing to its merciless pull. You struggle to believe this is fiction. Watching Anna’s face, when she lets you see it, one full of curiosity that you disregard the deficiencies of your body, leave it as your cap on her nightstand the next morning. You’ll come back to get the insecurities later, when everything’s settled. Anna peppers a kiss to your underside, her breath canvasing the crown. Some of her slick is still on her chin and now on the shaft (another believable fiction, if you will). She doesn’t use her hands (not yet), and has her way of working you up with just her mouth, like a toy. You stare right at the impasse of her sweet lips past the tip and halfway, and you don’t tense. The more she sinks, the more spit sprinkles down her neck and onto the fabric every time she gags . She knows to keep you here for an eternity, and she might just do that. Hell, the silence you had earlier returns in your throat, harboring a newly refined tension. “God, do you realize how good you taste right now?” Anna asks (again, believable) - and she’s aware that it’s rhetorical. Fantasizing your being in an actual body with a beating heart (this is a small testament to your dilemma); if Anna truly loved you - she’s yet to say it, but there is no other explanation - if she loves you, she does- she will. (At the same moment: a gate appears. The point of origin, and you don’t question it. Now wasn’t the time to think back the life before-) Anna spits on your shaft, her hand coming into play. “Is this okay? You didn’t move.” 

You’re not entirely there, and she’s right. The image of the gate goes to the back of your mind, looking at Anna. She has a hand under her gown, fingering herself. Indulgence with her is shameless, and pitifully adorable; she knew it wouldn’t take her that long to resort to such lengths. This is also the first time you’ve seen her where the roles are reversed, where she’s got her head between your legs and not the other way around: purely genuine the way her mouth feels around you. It’s new. Of course you fucking like it. “Good?” asks Anna, thumb tapping your slit and a thick bead of precum weeps. The slight slide of her palm leaves you in a breathless response. “Fuck.” Say something else, goddamit. Sure, it’s unoriginal, for how you’re uncovering these masked emotions. You’re begging- like her, sighing in rapture, humming in this somber swan song. “Anna, god-” Don’t stop. You begged to keep going. Anna then spreads your thighs wider. Your head hits the wall. Her drool’s coated all over your cock. Moaning is all you basically do underneath her hand. You don’t feel anything; this doesn't affect you (well; it’s making you shiver - which, in turn - it’s affecting you). Her: spit-stained all over her gown, wearing it in a way that’s more intimate than being naked. In what’s another handiwork well crafted by her standards: the fact she hasn’t revealed much (yet). She’s being cruel, you think. The squelch of her folds parted by her fingers makes you ball your fists, almost to make the polyethylene tear when the purrs from her throat bombard your cock, how she’s only doing this to painfully remind you of how delicately you want to fuck her. You realize, when she cups your balls with her other hand- “Does this feel good?” She murmurs into your tip, corkscrewing the sensation. 

Yes. The nodding is actually pathetic. You’re losing grip between fantasy and reality; it’s incredibly easy how that happens, like jumping off a cliff or setting your body on fire. “My good baby,” Anna praises, swallowing your tip between her lips. “Should I keep going?” “Yes, yes,” you’re saying, and she never fails to submit you to her will. There’s a groan and maybe a holy fuck- Her grip tightens. The shift from friction to slick wriggles your spine, arching in a sense of cumming had you imagined the experience to go this way a few nights ago. You have pieces scattered - between machine and repurposed flesh - not far from their origin; with those parts making you flawed, it motivates you (in that human nature) to seek that. “My lovely girl,” you compliment Anna, stroking her hair as she bobs down. A surprise on her end, sending vibrations along your shaft. Easy to tell she’s enjoying this as well, but will somehow find an excuse to say otherwise, be in denial- Tell me, tell me how good this feels, she might say, or have already said. Tell me how much of a fucking slut I am for you. Anna pops her mouth off, licking her lips. “Don’t be so tense,” she tells you, her tone dazed, “relax, okay? Just- let me have this. Don’t force it further. I want you to fall.” (You think back to the gate; failing to understand it still, but it’s not the first time you’ve set foot here. Despite its grandeur appearance being unknown, you do know this: it’s a cornerstone to the person (rather, persons) you might’ve been before. At times, the bleeding memories, triggered by chance or in a random instance, and you’ve felt the thought swallow you whole. Love, sadness, and anger, adjacent with a gunshot wound, tattered skin torn from stained metal, leaving you in an anguish so pure it emulates the form of a primrose. It’s always dangerous to stand in this headspace - and the pleasure was always a perilous catalyst.) Once past that barrier, the separation between you and your previous versions stretch and thin, divided in the conflict of perception and transformation. That too, is a dangerous game, but with Anna she instills you with such confidence; you’ve learned through her, you’re allowed to want, and harness that want. Her, the idea of her, her body, her being- it’s a rope falling short out of your reach, a hope to grasp your mind back from above and onto her hands and lips- “Anna, god- you’re so good at that,” you moan when she has her lips pressing right at the base, swirling her tongue underneath. An affirmation made true ascending fiction. When she moves her eyes, adoring, proffering, its perfection in all rights. You’ve seen so many expressions from her; here’s one more for you. Fall for it, Anna’s eyes tell you, fall for me. Anna gasps off with strings of spit and precum laced on her mouth. “I know you love when I do that, please- keep telling me.” Oh, you’re in love with her, but the conclusion isn’t absolute; an answer to an inevitable question. Fucking is equal as living in the present, dancing with no grace is equal as to not dancing at all. You are going to be a mess; a mess with her. You will experience the highest of highs in this endless journey with her, and eventually- You’re going to gracelessly fall from everything. –

(Your subconscious slips into a momentary dream again, replaying multiple occurrences: 

memory playback #1: (target breaker five seven twelve jack) SOS, danger, achtung, error error error - a phrase called upon the last time you truly wanted to be free. You taste a tinge of gunmetal in the kiss. Amidst the desecrated land where peace hardly rests on the crushed stone. You’ve had ideas of crushes before but they never burned or ripped your heartstrings apart like this. memory playback #2: water fills the space where the concrete once stood. A haven- the place where all the nightmares have failed to touch. You fall into the ocean, drown in both exhaustion and exhilaration. Soon, you’re cradling Gawon, on her back, watch her hair blossom into a halo over the saltwater, ignore the fact you might be sinking as you both kiss and kiss and kiss recklessly, see the flame beneath her shimmering eyes and when she finally cums you both feel human- memory playback #3: Gawon leads you to a greenhouse (rather, what’s left of it) near a library; a moment passes, and all of your fractured shards are their own being, in multitudes: your genderbent body next to her female body, the faint hum of the cicadas in the distance subjected to their own repertoire. You wonder if this is what real love feels like- 

-but you also think: are you really worthy enough to be cherished for one so filled with such faults? 

memory playback #4: her long, dainty fingers carve into your back the same fashion yours did to her waist. These scars are going to last forever and somehow you’re okay with it. It’ll be the same as hers. The claws of war never asked permission to ruin your body but Gawon did it anyway, fueled by lust and worry mixed in her eyes. How desperate they were, as she’ll deliver the killing blow with the singular bullet in the chamber- 

memory playback #5: her hand claims your neck as she sinks onto your cock, suffocating you until there’s resistance - like you’re her sacrifice in a ritual. She swipes a line of red on your cheek and the clutch on your heart is nearly lethal- 

memory playback #6: smoke fills the air across ruined infrastructures, old base camps, even the bombarded bunkers. Small pebbles of rubble fall from your back until it’s against the concrete, Gawon’s mouth attacking you viciously (plus there’s never been an instance where you two have fucked if it wasn’t laced with an ounce of desperation). Her tongue clashing yours, forcibly hollowing your cheeks with every suck and all you want is to reciprocate the same feeling, please her, share this feeling, to revel in the connection and disparity of your bodies communicate, shove a few fingers deep in her cunt and fuck your cum into it the next, call her everything but sweet- you fucking slut, my good little girl- “Now now, puppy,” Gawon tells you, palm flat against your mouth, her hot cunt pilfering what’s left for the taking with your cock, caressing her walls over every possible inch she can get, “i’m allowing you, it’s okay. Letting you fill my pussy. How much it wants your fucking cum-” 

Oh, it’s twisted. You have to look at her; you’ve got no other choice. She tips your chin up with a finger and it barely does anything with her gyrating hips, grinding the length down until it pokes her womb. Gawon hasn’t even lifted her hips once, yet the edge would be damming had it been the other way around with the thrusts, but you’re close. She pulls a lock of hair over her ear as she sinks for another kiss, and your legs are fucking shaking; most of the sounds coming out of you are inhumane, let alone robotic. “Tell me what you want,” she hushes, whimpering - the blade cuts both ways. 

“God-” you say, it’s muffled into Gawon’s hand. “Just do it, please. You want this just as badly as I want it,” and the merciful act she commits is raising her hips and feel the weight of her ass slam back down to your balls.

And the next thing she does which may seem unnecessary (but it rewires your brain chemistry because of how dashing she looks doing it) is with the finger to the corner of her mouth and gazing down with every pleading blink you give her - each time you beg or say please and fight against her pressure, arch your back while the waves of pleasure get more treacherous to handle. You can’t breathe with every impasse and slam of her cunt gliding and grinding until she finally has what she wants inside her womb.) 

You blink and suddenly the world shifts again. Anna, oh fuck. Your back arches with hers, then you hunch forward into her chest, pulling her with you to the floor. Soft skin riddled in bruises and clenched fingers. Then there’s the heaving and your voice tearing between breaths, spilling out curses the same rate as Anna would in a normal conversation (but it gets a laugh out of you, adorably) - while all of this may be silly, settling with ease: the accomplishment of diving into your body’s memories without staying in one headspace (a major plus), sharing this pleasure with Anna (an even better plus). To your best judgement, there’s no plausible reasons in your system that could explain cumming mush-fucked brain out on the floor; it’s enticing, fuck- you wonder the indulgence, how long it took to get your cock spent. 

A blessing it can be, to have someone like Anna take up your attention for that long. Maintaining that from the very beginning: that first cycle where the Primrose’s hyperdrive was primed and ready, staring into space with the biggest smile imaginable; to be so forward in creating the everlasting loop of you; in this space where it takes two, to become one. (memory playback #7: “Don’t be surprised by this,” Gawon tells you offhandedly, even though the tears streaming down her face says otherwise. “But I’m an idiot for being in love with you.”) 

It’s a lot to handle, for sure. “Anna,” you groan. She’s on you still, with the slightest move of her hips and you can’t stop your legs from shaking, warming up her cold body the only way she knows how (because she really- really, can’t help herself in embedding you inside) and the floor grows colder and “Anna,” with a lot more urgency, since her chest is to yours and her hips are elevated. “Fuck- baby, I’m- I’m gonna cum in you.” “I know,” says Anna, lips hot to your ear. “I love it when you’re like this: so perfect for me and ready to burst.” 

You reach for something, anything to grab - for your hand to clutch on as her hot cunt grinds through your load filling her up, and Anna takes it upon herself to use her own hand to hold yours. Her fingers still slicked from touching her folds, and you’re grinding teeth to keep yourself sane instead of cleaning them dry. All you can do is lay there and feel her fuck herself on your cock like a toy, petting you, praising, calling you these sweet names, tracing the line of your jaw. “Christ. What have you done to me?” You chuckle, defeatedly. There’s a stutter in the sentence. Almost resonating Anna’s emotions - very cutely, too. “Refining your brain chemistry,” she suggests. Blowing into your ear to mask the sound of your cock gushing into her pussy. “It’s a long and arduous process. Not as easy as wind passing through the ears.” 

“Can you like-” there’s a choke and a laugh, “-shut the fuck up?!” Absurd as it might’ve sounded, you’re aware what she meant: her blowing you on her own bed before falling onto the floor and fucking without a second thought; your coworker, your captain- cumming inside your fucking captain - okay, there’s a lot to unpack, but you sigh tirelessly. “How long has it been since we-” “Fucked?” Anna looks at you funnily, because your circadian rhythm wasn’t something to be questioned nor talked about. “Give or take an hour or two,” giggling with a finger between her teeth. Adorable. “That was nonstop, by the way.” 

“Another round, then?” you say. Rolling your eyes in embarrassment. “Maybe if we have a sliver of self control the break would have come sooner.” 

“Ugh, how scandalous,” Anna coos. You realize that she’s got your cock inside her still, unwilling to move. Basking in the light afterglow. Comparing sex to a beaming moonlight or orgasms to waves isn’t remote, but the shores of oblivion aren’t that damning if she’s sharing the same burdens as you. 

“Oh please,” you whistle, poking Anna’s belly. “Someone’s a little hungry.” 

“Yeah that,” she replies, kissing you. She kisses you again. Both of your bodies are spent and heavy. “Why is it that when I’m this riled up, and I’m having an angry craving because of it. What am I supposed to do?” 

You smirk, let your head hit the cool floor, tilting your chin by Anna’s fingers until she slips a thumb between your lips in the hope the taste stays. “A tragedy,” you breathe. “Even Sisyphus or Odessyus can resonate.” 

“Swan,” grumbles Anna. “I could hop back on your cock if I wanted to, but I’m doing everything to hold myself back.” 

“Commiseations to you for being so highly restrained,” you drawl. 

Anna refutes by pecking you on the forehead before she loosely rises to her feet. You admire her responsibilities in not letting lust take over her body - as you remained motionless to not grab an arm and tug her down. From the floor, you see Anna’s legs: her knees, specifically, how they’re tainted red and look battered, impressed at the functionality of them since the recovery would take a while after what you two did. Your cock doesn’t flex, but it does. 

“Leave me here,” you then say, as a request, quick to answer Anna’s tilted brow before she messes up in asking it. “You said you were hungry, so if you stay here, one of us is going to break, and you’ll be sad and even more hungry and the next round is gonna be terrible and you’ll get in a more pissy attitude.” 

Anna goes motionless, flaring her nostrils but exemplifying the due diligence. “You can kiss your sleep schedule goodbye, then.” 

“Fine by me, hehe-” you smile. “Anna, you’re amazingly beautiful. Did I ever tell you that?” 

“Little dove,” she answers with a lowered gaze, on one knee - both of you know that one more move or touch would be paramount to disregard basic needs and thrive in the exploration of your bodies. “God- fuck. You really gone and done it-” her hands are on her head, “No, stop. Don’t do this.” It’s taking everything in her brain power to resist. “I need to eat, shower, and clean up the quarters. We have a lot to do tomorrow, and on our next location so why don’t we just go rest-” 

“I need my midnight cravings,” you then offer, fingers trembling at the graze of her cheek. “I need- everything that has to do with you, please.” 

You watch Anna stumble back and trip on your cap, bracing an arm to the hallway. “I- oh!” she’s smiling with her head to the beam. “I can’t with you - being so fucked beyond belief. I really can’t do this- oh my god, ugh. Why are you like this? Why am I so hungry? I swear I can eat on my own without you spoonfeeding me!?” She’s rambling and the voice fades (thank goodness) down the walkway- “Also I am very capable of keeping myself accountable, babe. I promise!” 

“Well, yes.” You call back thinking she’d hear it. “Whatever you think, love.” The pet name teeters off your tongue for the first attempt, but you decide to let it stick. “Whatever you like.” 

–

On the occasion you’re not all over Anna and vice versa, the bearings remain with you. 

While taking advantage of the ship’s free time, you’ve found yourself theorizing a plethora of questions worth reflection. Maintenance on the vessel can only go so far (guidance controls are repaired too late, or perhaps without enough care, especially with Anna’s cum still warm on your lips). Personas begin to split, what once felt like a first thought now revealing itself as a connection steadily withering with each cycle. The prevailing sexual tension; the constant are-you-or-are-you-not, has passed. What remains is a return to the first square of restraint, stripped of ambiguity. For future reference: productivity is no longer optional; you’re expected to fulfill the subpar tasks left behind when desire stopped pretending it was direction.

The tension being studied: is it viable? compatible? sustainable, even. Whether it's worth conjuring up a label that substitutes romance or solitude or just pure, unadulterated sex because the both of you have literally nobody else? Will there be a moment when this has to be addressed, or the eventual confession that escalates to something more? Anna, sharing her art, for one. Will she carry on curating such pieces or use the art to replace the time in fucking? That would be the case if she did - you love her works. The expression it possesses. Teaches anew. 

More on the study: would she sketch or paint you? How would you look in one of her artistic creations? Would it be a gaze from a direct mirror, an interpretation, how evocative could you become, a perfect version she envisions you through her eyes? If you proposed the idea of painting you like a bionic human, would you look like Sooin? Sure, it could compensate for the memories, I suppose. They have little significance, you can’t remember who’s who and what’s real; in the end: you are you and why (no seriously, like- why) is it that there’s a resemblance of Gawon with Anna? 

–

(You’ll leave it off as this: 

one: you’re fucked in the head. 

two: maybe Sooin [or Gawon] is fucked into your frontal lobe. 

or three: your brain is fucked. 

It’s one of the three, you know that much.) 

–

Not long after, Anna’s made it to the dining quarters - your dining quarters, as you’d coin it. Shared spaces and all. Couples have that aspect, usually, you overthink it from time to time. 

“Hi,” you greet her, casual, nonchalant, nicking your shoulder into the wall because of how pretty she looked. It’s worth mentioning: “You look good. Like- really good. How is that possible?” 

Anna, on the other hand, leans back on the kitchen counter with an egg sandwich, her fair skin shining and glistened with spit, her nightgown in place (despite the annoyance of not being able to rip it off her. She quirks the corner of her mouth before biting. “I didn’t think of myself that much, if we’re honest. Never was the type to stand out over the others.” 

“That’s a matter of perspective, ma’am,” you reprimand. A good tip in the personal scale of your deteriorating thoughts. “I’d be an exception, because it’s you; the woman I love? a gravity I fail to escape from? you’re beautiful. 

She pouts. “So you’re one to say I was a slut before we did what we did?” 

You can’t afford to fall into old habits. Anna nibbles another piece off, and considering how poor you’ve been carrying out orders, it’s critical to maintain her routines and needs. So you carefully continue: “No. Not exactly, but that also means-” 

“You and your tangents,” Anna shrugs. You see the opened bag of tangerines, peeled and eaten halfway. That does beg the question, but you don’t address it. Given the travel time in space and with the amenities overstocked with the same kinds of foods that exhibit redundancy, and bland as they are - okay, you decide to let it pass and move on. “You love talking about these things and I love to listen,” she lifts a hand forward, seeing that your face remains unchanged. “Why don’t you indulge me in your thinking?” 

Ugh, she’s unbearably cute. 

“Okay,” you say. Composure is broken glass beneath your bare feet and you don’t even have feet to begin with. “Right- my point is, and I’m motivated to belittle you in all the ways you like-” Anna tilts her head with curiosity, and you’re failing to keep this deliberate and chaste, but- “words like whore and slut, or-” 

“If they fit the mold, and said ‘mold’ being me?” Anna assists in the connection. 

“-yeah, and you’re completely fine with it? None of those things affect you in any way, shape, or form?” 

Silence falls between the two of you. “Back in Toyama, most of the girls said those kinds of things- to me. Calling me a lowlife, a slut, whore, a pretty pick-me girl - I mean, I was a whore at some point back then,” she says. Ketchup drips down to her breast and she swipes it on a finger, licks it clean. “I may or may have not written about my teachers and classmates - in a sexual manner-” you bite your lip at her stifled laugh, “-until someone found my stuff when I was away.” 

“Doesn’t mean you had it coming,” you reply. 

“But then I thought: if people who claimed to be not a whore are willing to treat whores as such- what’s so bad about it? It’s not my fault they’re spiteful because they can’t relate. What if I want to be a whore, huh? At least that was until the conversation veered off into the freaking space project-” her arm falls with a scowl on her face, accusatory, and you feign ignorance. “-and that’s just a roundabout way of how you were with me.” 

“Finish that sandwich first and then we’ll have another go,” you supply a reminder. 

“Why don’t you eat it for me instead? 

“Would you rather ache on an empty stomach while I dick you down? Or have enough energy to suck me off while I wrap your hair nicely into my fist? If you don’t take care of that, you're going to be disappointed one way or another, so which one will it be?” 

Anna then bites another piece of the sandwich. “Alright. As I was saying: those girls were idiots. Calling me a slut or a whore is a compliment, and whether or not I am one-” she glances again with food in her cheek, “-you should know with the cum on your thigh and my lips on your cock after. It isn’t really all science, just look at me. Look-” and she slips a hand under her gown, showing the soaked fabric, “-well, it’s been a little while since that, yeah.” 

You can see her eyes move at a frantic pace, the neurons firing every bit of electricity from her brain, then she lets another drop of ketchup fall on her chest. A few more to follow. “Ah,” she sighs. “Needs more water.” 

It makes you consider: the option to surender and push her body down and fuck her over the sink like she deserves it. She’s a mess. You’re the same, but you’re able to make more of a mess with her. How good she could look squirting like a faucet and getting the cabinets wet - another tangent to daydream about, the potential your asymptomatic self could handle. You are both idiots, idiots in love with wants that are albeit predictable. By now you should’ve checked the thrust capacities in the primary boosters, but you couldn’t be bothered with something so boring if it wasn’t for you spending another second with her. 

“You- I can’t. You’ve got issues, Anna.” 

“I’m an undeserving bitch,” she tells you. “You have the personal account first-hand; I got the evidence. It’s gone through all the checks. My pussy and your cock are going to have a very constructive discussion.” 

That turns the gears in your head. “Uhm- fuck. So. I’m just gonna completely ignore what you just said, but this exchange will be brought up in the next debrief.” 

“What is that gonna do? Scare me? Fuck if I care. Do it anyway.” Anna laughs, loudly. “Maybe the universe will finally realize how fucked we both are.” 

“Oh, I’m perfectly fine, thank you.” It’s an announcement that goes over her head. “Sane for that matter. I haven’t a clue what you were talking about just now.” 

“Sane, my ass. You didn’t act like this when you were breeding my pussy the other time,” she says (it short-circuts your brain a bit, too). “Let’s do this. A litmus test to assess how your brain’s holding up. Take this.” 

She tosses you a pack of fruit snacks. Technically speaking, you’re not built to eat most foods, but there’s an exception for a few bites here and there - and thank the maker for understanding that food is fuel, and the acquired tastes for a bionic also gives meaning for a molecular analysis. A part of you wonders whether someone has moved the heavens and earth to grant you as much humanity as possible. On the other hand, you’re torn to be content or deep in thought, but this is natural to think deeply about your personal ethics. None of that mattered, anyway. You nibble down a piece or two. Er- at least make it look like you are. You do get through the package with no problem, but the juices are squished out and required a little bit of tongue and sucking at the bottom- 

“Great, I’ve got this to deal with.” You laugh, wiggling the bottom of the plastic. 

“Aww, a baby can’t finish their food,” says Anna. “I’ll give you another pack.” 

“Why waste your nourishments on me?” You ask. It’s unwarranted. Considering the percentages diluted to your space travel (Anna having a fit because the unit had to be down to an even number ever since she cried - well, ugly cried - about how unfair it was for you two to be shipped off into nowhere, and that you understood perfectly). If anything, you’ll stretch out the rations for another four to five thousand cycles, just before you activate the slate protocol and go into status back into the magnetosphere.

Once that’s all done: it would be a few more cycles after adjusting course to compensate for the dip in starboard trajectory, return to Toyama and spend the first night back in an alleyway making out just right outside the naval base. Anna wouldn’t be hungry, and you’d be reassigned sooner or later. 

All of these tangents, broken down like a square root but none show a result of stability. Technical difficulties and maintenance serve a good distraction of fucking her - a mistake on your own part by following her to the mess before she finished her meal, but you didn’t have a subroutine for that in the first place. You’re a fool that’s led into the whimsical panache and desire from your best friend cumming into your mouth and standing across from her talking about groceries while the overarching topic was about being accountable with basic needs. It’s only natural; normal even. Gawon or Sooin would applaud the both of you. 

Your name rings through your ears, Anna’s high-haltered tone another hymn to repeat again and again (and it’s delightful when she says it). “Who cares if the spreadsheet for the amenities has my name on it. You’re welcome to take some, too y’know. It’s not like the fleet views you as damaged goods, huh?” 

She has a point, it makes you think. “If anything, I wanna gift you nice things, too because-” you pause and look, “-seeing you happy makes me complete. Who knows, I’m only speaking half the truth here.” 

“Half the truth like this last piece of grape? Or my breadcrumbs?” 

“I was thinking maybe a little of the asparagus-” 

“An asparagus eating swan?” 

“Now you’re just speaking nonsense,” you sigh. “I’m thinking of one full grape. Even the whole sandwich.” 

“All of the crumbs fall off the crust in the sandwich.” 

“That’s not- okay. You know, Anna- forget it. A swan is elegant when they have all the attention on them.” 

“I told you this!” Anna exclaims, squinting her eyes. “But you deserve all the attention, too! You can’t keep giving me everything. Let me do the same for you.” Her chin dips, a smirk forms. “How good you’d look with a collar- OOH. Even a rope around your neck.” 

“Anna-” you choke. Nothing would ever push you over the edge of a mineshaft unless it was pure sex talk. “God. Why do you even- for fuck’s sake, Anna. Holy shit-” 

She snorts. “Be a good lapdog and fuck me yourself.” 

Forget logic. Impatience triumphs common sense. You bolt across the dining area and press her to the fridge, ready to reign fire with your mouth- 

“Now now, sweetie,” says Anna who stops you with a finger to your lips and before you could put your tongue to good use. Her voice is firm, serious, looking you in the eyes through the heavy breaths. “You didn’t let me finish my snack.” 

Like a fucking musician, playing you as some instrument, controlling you like a servant pet. “Anna,” you rasp, graveled. “I swear- I’m gonna be insane if you don’t- Let. Me.” 

“Hush.” A dismissing command. “Do pets speak? Or do jesters play when they’re not asked to? Sit down, now.” 

You take a step back, defeated, shuddering. She’s managed to break you. This part of the script wasn’t in your hypothesis filed in the ‘mess hall scenario’. The fact that she could even act like this despite the lacking ability-

One push of her hand has you stumbling to the chair. Anna walks from the fridge, letting both straps of her dress fall from her shoulders, revealing her tits. She smiles, laughs at you to make the image less obscene (but not by much). “You look tense.” No fucking shit, you’re thinking, of course I look fucking tense. “Be my little songbird, honey. Sing all the sounds you want. I just want to have my fun before I ruin you.” 

You stare at her with a parted mouth. “Sure,” you say. Switching to another topic would be a viable option here. “Allow me to add,” and the hint of being a fearful avoidant rises with the sentence, “an idea I’ve been contemplating about you.” 

Anna opens another pack of fruit snacks. An impulse spikes deep in your consciousness; it papers over your cracking persona.  Having settled in the psychoanalysis of this exchange wouldn’t last another second without the urge to not think but do. “For one to bear such thoughts in this condition,” she tells you. “It intrigues me.”

“Like you, I have my limits when it’s relevant.” 

She mumbles the same sentence, probably in annoyance. “As if you weren’t the one in heat and wanted to get on me right away-” 

“You don’t have the warrant to make that accusation,” you grit. “I don’t break. Easily. “ 

“And yet you were,” she retorts and your expression matches against her relent. “Why would I care? This is me taking care of my needs, without your deliberation. Contemplating about what, exactly?” 

“A person- a person that I remember-” you stop short. Most conversations like these should be civilized. You are civilized beings having dinner - and the topic that usually returns to the table is often engaging. “It’s-” you breathe again, “with these fragmented memories, they just exist, right?” 

“Mhm,” grins Anna. “Hopefully it’s something steamy.” 

So, that washes away the nervousness even Anna has no idea about from earlier, but you add: “It was, and why I had- enjoyed that-” 

“My, are you shy from what we did?” asks Anna. “Is the brain reduced to mush during sex? Or how I grinded on your leg and cumming-” 

“I’m being serious. If I can’t hold myself back-” you smirk at the thought, “-okay. The whole point I’m trying to make is that while we do that, I realize that my past self was in love with another woman.” 

“Really?! Hell yeah! That’s good!” Anna exclaims, undeterred. “I hope they fucked, too.” 

“Definitely, and I think with those blips of memories is a chemical reaction waiting to happen. Because whoever I remember-” you wave your hand to your face, “-and I know her name, but it feels invasive from time to time, seeing these memories, and they’re starting to creep in while we fuck.” 

“Hang on,” Anna shakes her head, biting down a piece from the fruit pack. “Should I be upset by this?” 

“No- not really. You shouldn’t,” and you see Anna’s gaze soften. It’s sobering (for all the sexual tension built between the two of you) she doesn’t let it slide if she’s aware of a problem. You’ll provide the explanation: “That being said, I-” 

“-looked into my inner self and found a caveat,” she says. 

“And I wanted to forget about that past self, rather to be present, in this body, with you.” 

“I appreciate your concern. If it makes you feel better, I’m not mad at you for that. We’re just managing as we go. Rendering how complicated it may be.” 

“I feel the same,” you reply. “Believe me- it felt good. And you’re right, there’s a limit how much my body can take, and the sex is good and my previous clone is the same as me- so it makes sense; but at the same time, it isn’t entirely mine - to also add, when we talked about the Ship of Theseus, Anna, I know that look you’re giving. I wanted to hear your- thoughts.” 

“Yes,” Anna crumples up the foil in her hand, “We can go through your manual. Maybe run through the directives and experiment what you like?” 

You emit a deep breath, keeping composure - as in: you need her on your lap, bind your wrists together - not yet. “Going by the manual isn’t technically sex education. You’re not supposed to fuck your bionic companion,” you cough, clutching your chest. “Things like that are off the books and shouldn’t be addressed in the mission logs.” 

“Shit,” says Anna. She laughs at this (and, endearingly): “If there’s someone we know that was experienced at overlooking the black ink and redacted texts-” 

“Unprofessional- we’re unprofessional,” you dismiss with a smirk, to which Anna matches. “Prospective, actually. If I can get myself off from these memories, we can also toy with the idea of conducting you into the mix-” 

“-this is so hot coming from you-” 

Anna hears you out: “Like- it’s a recurring trial, each with a different result at the end. For every time we-” your jaw slightly drops and forms a wicked grin, “-when we continue to practice unsafe sex-” 

She puts her hands on your face, forcing you to look up. “Why is it you’re making this sound like it’s a one-off?” 

“Absolutely not,” you answer, a little too quickly. If anything: i’m helpless here, falling into an admiration i cannot seem to escape, you think - and having that in mind, you carry forward. “I- I can’t really be sure. I want you so bad that it’s fucking up my cognitive functions. Now- can you just finish your fucking food?!” 

“Safe to say you’re dying to have me. Push me on the counter with that cock of yours?” Anna tuts. “You can be a good puppy and wait. I know your body likes to suffer.” 

Having someone who understood you so well leaves you stripped cold. You’re not the kind to shiver, but the instinct persists. When the night falls, well- the period of your inner circadian rhythm which Anna claimed to be your ‘sleep cycle’ convinced you to call it like hers as ‘bedtime’ - another ritual you’ve attempted to grasp. There’s no reason to create a protocol in the Primrose where the temperature drops enough to suggest mending bodies together to produce warmth, but you have. 

(“I’ve always wanted to live in a burning planet,” Anna had said to you one time, shuddering next to you all thanks to your alterations, and even implementing seasons; dancing in the rain, and creating a makeshift nightstand so that the gentle radiance greets her sloping cheeks every morning - a gift that had always left her in tears at times.) 

To circle back: you want her, badly. Patience is running a thin line and all it takes is one hasty movement to unravel everything at once. With the benefit of hindsight, you often catch yourself in depreciation (spilling curses in a comical manner) over how the relationship with Anna would never change. Out of the many stories she shared with you, she claimed: “y’know i could never tell when other people were flirting at me” to which you chuckled at that, sitting together in the cockpit and doodling constellations - in all the things of friendship-wise. Who knows. You could’ve kissed her then along with countless other times after. 

Time doesn’t dwindle away into a black hole, but the uncertainty sucks the life out of you. Getting older was a guarantee; not just in your bodies, but in the aging metal around you. The Primrose’s missions are an odyssey of their own; so is challenging the antiquated sense of moralities every now and then. How dehumanizing, it must be for all the ‘what if’s’. In the end: you are you and the choices you make are almost calculated, even if Anna was old-fashioned with her arts and books and ideas to understand. 

(She asked another time: you know about Swan Lake by Tchaikovsky? Or the Shakespearian tale of Macbeth? And while watching the gray colored screen late into the night through a voice: “But now I am cabined, cribbed, confined, and bound into saucy doubts and fears.”) 

Anna slants her head - the conversation's gone dry again. “You blanked out,” she assesses. “Did you have another flash of memories just now?” 

To play into the question: yes, you did have memories of that past life, remembering her- and maybe it’s tragically romantic. “You finished. And we haven’t gotten to kissing yet. I wonder why.” 

“You and I are both messy. A pair of fucked up beings in this universe,” she supplies. Handing you the foil to toss away in the garbage bin behind you. “Luckily it’s something we can fix together.” 

“And you mean-” 

“Exactly what I mean. Come get me.” Anna commands, acting like you needed a trigger word to not jump on her for over an hour. It comes off as a surprise on her end that you do the opposite: walking over with a gentle push back into the fridge and kissing gently. There isn’t an explanation of the rush in lifting her up the metal with your neck in a figurative leash (a metaphoric tether, but it ties the connection down seamlessly), and she’s hot and light in your fingers, and there’s a reaction bubbling in your emotional cortex.

You kiss her without letting go. From your eyes it’s romantic; in Anna’s - it’s undetermined. Her skin heats up like the sun greets her eons ago. Her body shudders; riddled with goosebumps. 

“I like this. You. I like you. I love how fun this has become,” you admit, forehead to forehead. Anna smiles, softly; creasing skin in corners all over her face and eyes. More. Previous impulses course through your mind: her voice drenched with at the need of you on her bed, falling soon after and fucking on the floor the next. Her slick mouth working your cock to the back of her plush throat; touching, grasping, needing the sensation and warmth in each other, for something to hold once everything’s reduced to dust- 

Toyama is a long way from you two, a mere dot among the stars. Even if those who knew you, or knew of you could see what you have become, they would look with such judgement. What Anna had as baggage here has either been lost in the blanket of space or hidden with the many other regrets she carries. If this floating asylum is the only place where you could have mutiny. If her longing for home has equaled the distance. 

Anna kisses you; much, much more gently. You’re all soft lips and battered hearts. Suffice with another memory: the fear of intruding a sacred ground, letting love succumb you over with all its might, and how you’ve let it die at your hands. 

“Baby,” she coos. “Tell me what it is. What do you want?” 

Keep her hands on you; kiss me softly, then harder. “Pointless wants, they’re stupid- illogical. One word doesn’t get the point across. “I need your body against mine.” Artificial can’t match authenticity. “Make me go insane and have you feel the same way.” You’re a hopeless romantic. “Make love with me until our arms and legs are aching-” and once more, you hold back on confessing the truth. It hasn’t been that long since the first kiss, so this is a bit of a rush, going into things recklessly. 

But when has that ever stopped you from feeling so good about it? 

Intent and desire burns deep into your nerves and heart, flashes of your past life bends the perception of what’s real and what isn’t. The thrill of your body being lit on fire from artillery strikes or when you sank to the bottom of the ocean. There was also the time where there was a singular bullet in the chamber, and spinning around the old glock fueled more excitement once the barrel’s to the side of your head, waiting for the hollow, audible ‘click!’ when the gun didn’t go off. Nothing scared you that much and that was the empowering (or frightening) part you miss. 

(memory playback #8: Gawon runs ahead of you to an end where there’s no return and a crossroad that alters fate. She’s got a cigarette to her teeth and offers it between her fingers, gazing tenderly. You dance with her and the heart in your chest feels like it’s going to be pierced from your ribs. When you think about her, you fail to cry. The red ribbon around her neck is on your wrist and the scent of her hair is all but ash. 

memory playback #9: The grief you carry is unexpressed love, without a receiver. It leaves your body, like a flock of doves creating a constellation into the sunset, greeting the stars for her, searching for their lost companion they wish to love and cherish.) 

“I care a lot about you,” Anna rasps into your cheek. “I really do, believe me.” She understood your internal conflict, and perhaps it's this moment where you could finally make peace with it: letting Sooin and Gawon cuddling past the gate now shut in your head. In another life (that past life), your intimacy is the same as theirs, and the kind you’d want to keep close. You’re entranced into another slow dance with Anna, one without music, holding her in a tempo that’s a little too slow, locking lips again and again, and that would be more than enough. 

“Your happiness will always matter more to me than my own,” you tell her. Heresy in its true form, but you’re honest, and that isn’t made more obvious than embracing each other in the kitchen. Your hand sinks to her side. Risky. Some of her hair is covering her ear: even more risky. You want to keep charming her. 

She looks down to your fingers at her thigh, tensing and giving at the feel. “This is okay, right?” you ask, knowing very well there’s one answer you want to hear; longing (basically yearning) for Anna to say it. 

Anna nods in approval. “Mmm, I-” You can tell she wants more - more of you. Yet you play into the teasing. Surrendering isn’t the only way to get power, and pushing her buttons doesn’t always have to be the endgame. Her eyes dart from one end to the next, and the reactions are cute to see up close. She gets pulled closer at her own pace; a loose arm pressuring around her once you settle back on the chair and (finally, at long last) in your lap. Between the short asphyxiations, you know she’s ready, bestowing the responsibility back to you - aware of how this game is being played, and while she’s completely flustered and plastered pink on her face, she goes along with it: “Why don’t you tell me more?” 

“Show me more of those old western films you’ve been watching. Paint cute things all you want,” you answer. Right away, these are foolish things. “Cook those meals from home. Look up at the stars and fall face first into the planets that we explore.” Oh, you’ve got the saccharine plot all set up, but it widens the grin on her face while she’s dripping between her legs. 

This side of you is the most raw and inescapable version you’ve ever been, and Anna has had her fair share of going through these phases, and while you’re rattled in dread of being more explicitly, you perch on her ear: “and please, I want you to teach me more of these dances,” and you’re sure the answers will come as they go. 

“Dancing has a sensual approach to it,” says Anna, seeing through the facade. “Once you see past the veneer, the art transcends to a whole lot more.” This has you smiling like an idiot, and you can’t stop it from happening. The additional, and hilarious fact of you wanting to canvas her body more than what space has to offer - but she’s here on your lap and so close to your heart. The line of her collarbone, the small beauty marks sprinkled on her shoulder and chin and ear, her firm mounds; a small hint of her nipple peeking above the gown and the strap to her arm. 

“Anna,” you call out to her; her hand guides yours to her breast before she responds. Forces your fingers to clutch and grasp as she barely does anything to stay still. “Anna. Can- please. I know-” you’re pushing it, it’s driving you insane, circling her nipple and not even giving a pinch. 

“You don’t have to fucking ask,” she grits, but it’s mixed into her whimper. “I swear- I’m gonna have to toy with myself if you’re not going to do it for me-” 

Pinch. 

A press, pull, then a little flick. Soon your tongue will do the same. “Because you’d rather use your hands than mine? I guess my hand will have to do while you take care of that.” 

“Oh please. I can touch myself at the thought of you whenever I fucking want,” she groans, shivering when you have a hand to her shoulder keeping her in place. “You don’t even know about the time I laid on the table and fucked myself in the hopes of you seeing and taking care of my problem-” 

“Huh-” you drop the act, slightly. “When did you- what?” 

“What? No- I mean, I just grinded against the corner. And maybe the chair that you’re sitting on right now. Okay, look- I’m just- fuck! 

You laugh into her neck. “When did you even do it? And why’d you keep that from me?” 

“A while ago. Probably the first few cycles into our mission period. I even had it journaled in.” Anna beams. “Can you just fucking touch me already?!”

The inner curve of your thumb and finger moves up to the crease of her hip and leg, then her stomach, then the underside of her breasts, all the nooks where you can touch. “Do tell, Anna,” you propose, indulgent. “What was the appeal?” 

“That you’d drop to your knees and proclaim the same desperation you have for me,” she answers. “Use me like a toy, and just rail me on the table with a hand to my neck and-” a gasp once your thumb flicks her pretty little clit. “-you just fucked me senseless. God, I beg-” 

Your mouths are clashing again. There’s been too much of the talking and less of kissing. The both of you aren’t sure what you’re doing. A finesse of feeling her body, you assume. You also presume there’s an optimal route to explore her body - to hell with going by the book, you’ve no need for it. Anna wants to be touched; she likes to be touched. Her body is going to be pliant and soft and you’ll love nothing more than to lick the sweat of her waist and feel the friction get together - okay, stop fucking overcomplicating it. Worship your lover with all your might. The drunk pleasure will happen regardless. 

“Don’t- don’t,” Anna shoves a whine down your throat. “If you think about stopping, I’m going to make you crazy about me-” she begs, and her character finally breaks into impatience. She’s got two fingers deep in her cunt, fucking herself. 

“Look at me, honey-” she hisses, pathetically. “You’re only holding yourself back.” The next thing she does is lift the same hand from her legs, slipping those same two fingers into her mouth. 

–

Time waits for no one, not even you. 

Her hot lips laving yours enough to make you lose it even more. She doesn’t play nice (but she never played nice.) Anna’s face is difficult to read; is it control? rapture? ruin? or perhaps gratification? Too much to tell, and there’s a lot of ground to cover. A winner like her takes it all and the loser - unfortunately, has to fall and suffer. You have your directive, and there’s the added order of acting on whatever she bids you to do. Her puffy lips coat your cock delicately, tongue stroking the roof of your mouth as she lets her hips settle on the length. 

“How much do I have to do to make you- ugh!” She grits, grasping your neck soon after. Because the concept of power is somewhat new to her and she’s got her priorities straight. “Do me a favor: get the fuck on the table.” (You believed it at first of her not having the authority to rest it heavily on your head - but god, you’ve never been proven so wrong.) 

Her knees creak the wood once you’re laid on your back, peppering trails of spit from her waist down between her legs. Thank the creator for compensating; being able to respond to the wetness was one thing that couldn’t deliver in terms of granting you the five senses, but you make do. Anna’s leaning forward, bending. Most of her gown’s been discarded, revealing skin. Your optics can’t process all of the new pieces of information all at once- 

“I like where you are,” she hushes, the breath alone should’ve made you shiver. “Always willing to submit.” 

You’ve never wanted to breathe so desperately in your life. Feeling the weight of her hips crushing your face. 

What’s more rewarding than the skullfuck is the constant grazing of Anna’s cunt brushing against your lips. She’s rubbing her clit too, the poor needy thing. As much as you’d love to keep this going, to satisfy your own needs, there’s a bedside rule left unsaid: to return the same subservience. 

Anna’s so close to cumming. That, at least, until you bite her inner thigh. 

It’s met with: “Ah-!” And Anna’s body convulses, scowling into your eyes. Temporary. This is fun, and you know she doesn’t want to stop. 

“Satisifed?” You ask, eyes lidded. 

“Love, you- oh. You have no idea.” She’s starting to break. You notice she’s overly strung out on her own confidence; like you, she needs to have her buttons pushed. 

“Oh my god. You’ve wanted to do this on me for a while now, haven’t you?” 

Anna winces. “Maybe. Who’s to say?” 

“You and your fantasies. I love to see you try.” 

Her face falls flat, determined. She wonders on something for a moment, disregards the second thought and does it anyway: shoving her whole ass across your face and making you suffocate. Even better: her hand grips the edge, you brush your tongue deeper into her. The wood creaks and the servos in your jaw are trying to accommodate as her makeshift vibrator- “Anna,” you muffle, then the eyes go back to your head. “Mmmf-” 

“Yes, right there- that,” she groans. “God-” 

She lifts and you hold her thighs where they are. “You are something,” you praise. “How is that you’re this sexually precious?” 

“What about you? Is it too much?” 

“Nonsense,” you answer. Her being concerned is thoughtful. “You’re doing just fine. I mean- we did fuck on the floor the other time-” 

“And it won’t be the last,” she replies. “We finally have more use of our time now.” 

“Slow is steady,” you remind Anna. Unsaid words are carried through expressions. You’re too drunk on Anna’s essence seeping out her legs, so you’ll keep the talking to a minimum and kiss her (other) lips. 

“Baby, baby, baby, oh my-” Next her hands dig into your scalp, and judging from the reaction alone it’s only stimulating her mind more, slipping out words and each utterance more incoherent than the last. 

Nothing could stop your tracing tongue dancing on her cunt, switching the flick at the slightest pitch change. The mission hasn’t changed. It’s always been the same since the beginning, only now where you and her have come to realize that to truly survive- 

You both need each other. 

Sensory inputs are overloaded with data: at the graze of your nose to her clit, the nibble of her inner leg, the shimmy of her hips and once she’s had enough, you force her to take more. A tap of her clit when she lets you breathe. Another one earns a whimper. She’s a molten mess in your hands. 

She grabs your cock and it throbs. “Tease,” she groans with her head back, biting her bottom lip. You want to test the limits of how much she can handle; where she can keep her head leveled before losing it completely. Once again: she shudders, swiveling your length, and you look up earnestly with your mouth to her folds. Any more forms of contact could legitimately kill her (and there’s another directive to unpack for that matter), suck her dry before she even has the chance to recover. How you could give her that dream of railing her on the table, but you’ll hold back. Anna’s legs shudder when your breath meets her cunt. 

“Anna,” you say, and it’s wonderful to say her name while being under, “just let me- relax, babygirl. Give yourself to me. I promise to take care of you.” 

You’ve got the intent down to a ‘T’. It’s just you: this model, her lover, her toy. She doesn’t even let you off once she’s moved down to your hips, her hot cunt just within reach of your tip. Which was safe to say: she couldn’t wait or take it anymore. When the thick tip pushes her folds, her body shakes; the expressions are amazing. You want to see more of them. 

The pleasure is sharp enough for you to sit upright and in the present. You kiss her, kiss her head, shove your hand deep into her scalp so your mouths stay touched. Her fingers corral your neck, your back - you can do better than that - tensing the line in your bodies to an unknown measure, something that can be learned errorlessly. “Hey,” you shudder, filling the whole length inside her. She doesn’t move. You’ve got your hands to her hips and take up the gaps in her mind; makes her gasp. 

“My good girl too fucked out? Need me to get you going since you almost came?” 

Her head tilts, she’s cock-drunk. Perfection. 

“It’s you,” cupping your head, “this pretty face, and this fucking cock-” she sputters, the grip getting tighter motion picking up in waves. “Please, fuck me. I beg- I’m fucking ordering-” 

She knows you can’t be hurt, and only one of you is going to be sore. 

“Shh, I know hun,” you coo, hoisting her hips up and yanking them back down with a little more force. You have no regard for the things around you: the wood creaks against the metal flooring; Anna knocks over a cup off the tabletop; your hips thrust upward into her heat. It’s gotten you both delirious. You’re sitting up, licking the beads of sweat off her breast; brush your cock where her cunt’s the hottest. 

You know so much but also so little. There’s a nibble here, you might’ve sucked her nipple a little too hard, don’t give her time to breathe as she rides you, and she’s smiling through it. Granted, neither of you are inexperienced with this whole concept of fucking, but there’s so much to learn regardless; there’s you: split between memories and the remorse of a body that was never your own; her, and her intimate experiences in the past she’s never breathed a word about. If anything, the closest you’ve ever approached the topic was one of those conversations where time seems to stand still in the vastness of space - answering the question about her past and all of the events before with ‘look, I had nothing else to lose, so why stick around when there’s nowhere else to go or turn to?’ 

Even now, there’s a covered painting in this room Anna does while she eats. She never gives you a straight answer about it, and there really isn’t anything you could do to make her budge and open up, but that’s fine. The tension in the air is thick and heavy just like her body as she grinds her hips to yours, and she could be setting aside her emotional baggage to never be spoken about again. 

Anna’s face buries into your neck, fingers clenching into your hair. Her pussy is tethered to your cock and each slam down is another pull of reality bringing you back. You could just draw it to simply losing your being to the person you love. 

“So deep. It’s so, so deep,” she moans, and you focus on her voice as it makes you remember where you are. You grip her ass the same way hers did around your neck - an unspoken message to share on what feels good and where to keep her keening. Communication here can be fallible: you’re mindful that Anna never answers the questions truthfully or ignores you, and how her past could never be addressed in the corners of darkness; you’re aware that saying nothing oppresses your free will; despite this, it’s just how things are between you and Anna. 

But maybe you should focus on this plane of existence. Anna has both the beauty and flaws and the big plus is (you also have your own faults) that you can’t help being in love but feign from the admission. Your skin doesn’t bruise as easily compared to hers, as well as respond to toxic environments since you can’t feel pain. Thanks to her, you’ve learned the aspect of pleasure while stimulating your own learning synapses; with your thumbs to the crease on her legs, keeping her there, flexing your cock deep inside to her walls and focus on her lips clashing to yours. She’s a slick and gushing mess. 

You also recall an instance where Anna put a book down and said: “for erotica, why are they doing so much into detailing the feeling of one’s cock inside their lover?” Then she stemmed it off into saying a cock isn’t the only appeal for a woman’s pleasure and all of a sudden you don’t recall much. 

The bruises across her legs are starting to bloom in reddish-pink. More decorations to deviate from the usual purple you’ve seen on her that suit her state more or less. She’s leaking on your artificial shaft, insistent for all of it. It earns her another deep thrust upward, a few bites to her neck, hot breaths into her mouth: these things you want to leave as many as you possibly can so that they serve as reminders of an intoxicating poison she’s taken whenever she’s bathing or doing the little makeup. What would be even better: if she got herself off to ease her mind off of this. 

It hasn’t even been that long; probably a few weeks since she asked you to dance. Yet the both of you have been forever changed. Who knows what will become of you when this comes to pass: something new - or whole, even. You can be adamant about where you kiss her; you’ll also learn her preferred fragrance, and kiss more of those bitten lips. She might teach you new things: like how to braid her hair, come up with a theory to create a body that can withstand time - and it could be drawn up as a failure, but everyone has their end, right? When you and her cease to exist, this spacecraft will live on possibly through someone else. 

Anna’s cunt clenches around your cock. Her tight little hole is the only stimulus keeping you focused. She moans, a little erratically. Keeping your head leveled may be easy, but you don’t fight her clawing hands. You’ve felt like this before, and the memories of that form in waves, encroaching the imaginary sand around the island, but it’s yours to share, and you’re going to sink beautifully. 

“Louder,” you say. “Moan for me louder, sweetheart.” 

She angles your chin up, devilishly grinning. “Try me,” is where she settles with. 

You lift and meet her in the middle with a heavy upstroke. There’s tears seeping from the corner of her eyes - like paint being rubbed down on a palate. She’ll commend her own effort, but there’s the fleeting restraint of ruining her more when she says so. 

You fuck her harder once her legs wrap around your hips, incessantly begging. Her moans are mixed with whimpers and whines and you could feel your head go hazy. There’s a memory you recall where the sky flashes white from blue and the world was never the same after that. Your memories of love and yearning are here; pure and impure in ways that make up your existence. 

Stiffening and sweating both have their characteristics, those where they grow all the same. It’s preposterous that fucking her would be an experience- let alone, how you’d be wanting to have these feelings again and again within these confines of this home away from home. Anna was always complicated, but you’ve dealt with it. 

She mewls into your neck and it's a sound you’re familiar with. “Let me hear you,” you offer, a last gasp for restraint. If her hand were a rope, she knew you’d jump at the first opportunity to tie yourself to it like a collar. Your fragmented self would only thrive with these memories, and not wither down to a selfish being hidden underneath your skin. 

I hope my life will matter to you someday, you remember telling her the first few weeks on this expedition - a mere fantasy to delude yourself that she could, but it’s never been more true. 

Anna whines when the head of your cock brushes right to her womb. Her fingers claw the polyethylene on your collar, wincing. It’s still a beautiful sight to behold. 

(memory playback #10: the spray paint in your hand is tossed from a bombed out wall: “you may forget but let me tell you this: someone in some future time will think of us,” a mantra that speaks high of the future, what might come after death - and you share a kiss, another prayer for what higher being may be observing with the stars, and there’s another kiss, then another, then another, then-) 

Your tongue slips out of Anna’s mouth, and the kiss ends. She can taste herself - off of you, with those plush lips, how easy it can really be to fall into her heart. Her toffee eyes are just eyes, but they see you as you are. It’s daunting to be known, how frightening it is to be accepted, alone. You’ve seen terrors before, and so has she. Through it all, it’s love that can transcend for those who can no longer speak. 

It’s a funny thing, really. 

Maybe one day you’ll watch her fall off the ramp and you’ll run after her on a beach with two sunsets. Make love to her on the sand and learn a little more about her then and there. Simple things like loving her can bring ease; free from all pain, guilt, and shame. There’s no point in thinking twice. 

Despite this, Anna tells you to, “please keep fucking me,” and you do. There’s a more dignified approach into how you’ll have sex with her; ideally, a fashion that doesn’t nearly kill her. You’ve memorized every corner and crevice of her body in a short amount of time. It's like a second reflex. Pumping her full of your cock she has to sit up straight by your hand as her limbs try to tangle around where she can cling. 

“Gonna cum?” You ask, slowing the pace. 

Anna’s face pulls another wince, then relaxes. “You’re-” and she’s laughing through it, settling on your shaft. “You’re going to fucking kill me, maybe,” leaning into shoulder. “I’ve made you cum, so it should be similar, we just have to try-” 

You lean forward and lay her back, piercing her womb. She didn’t want you to take it easy - this is what she wants, but the sex was always a form of strategy and compromise. Her cunt makes this unholy noise, and she’s gushing more by the second. Anna gets too ahead of herself, too fast, and she bucks in reflex while your cock slips out and she’s squirting into your hips. You grab your length and wriggle it back on her folds, there’s more. She’s a dripping, leaking mess and her legs are shaking. 

“Anna, god. Anna, oh my god-” you gasp. She’s blabbering nonsense, biting into her wrist, spazzing out from the pleasure. Those marks on her arm will be there for a while, and you’ll have to treat those accordingly once all of this is finished. You’ll always submit to the aftercare even if you resign from doing it initially; for no reason - which may be a different case - but it doesn’t stop you from saying: “Oh, my sweet thing. Cum for me. Slut.” Love in this sense can be ferocious. She can’t even breathe with you pilfering her mouth and cunt at the same time. 

She mutters your name down your throat, voiced in a way so elegantly that it's like she’s singing in appraisal: cumming over your cock. Her teeth clack against yours and she screams, choking as you hold her down by the neck. For how brutish you may be, it’s justified to how much she’s loving this version of you. You would love to hold her up by the waist and fuck her to the brim on this table; exhaustion isn’t a concept that’s applied to you, but your alternating thrusts from slow to fast makes it all worthwhile. Yet pain is a human feeling and your hips actually hurt and you’re panting and the wrongdoing washes down like a waterfall it hurts-

“Please, please, please-” she pleads, weeping. “Don’t- wait, okay. We need to- I can’t go on like this-” 

So you comply once the thrusts have been made. Once the cum settles deep inside her, the romance lingers: you’re cradling her in comfort (unlike those times where life hung on a thread; the many what-ifs), sliding your cock out and seeing a glisten of white seep out of her opening, where she’s warm and you want to keep her that way. 

It’s also easy to stay close to her, and never let her go. Easy to be attentive and be accepting of her like she is with you. And it dawns, cruelly: she’s all you have left and- you’ve let it pass. Weathering that in your mind helps you stand stall against the tide. 

Anna’s lip wobbles, “Slut. You said ‘slut’ to me.” She hasn’t stopped; seen with a hand to her chest and the other between her legs. “What have you done-” 

“Did you like it?” 

“I did.” She says while struggling to get up. “In the moment it was-” and the sigh she makes is hellishly pleasing, the devil would be proud. Oh fuck, she mouths repeatedly, pressing her hand to her thighs. “You’re so good.” 

“Glad it was- enjoyable,” you say, helping her up and she’s still close to you. Kissing your neck softly. And it connects: exhaustion. You’ve had sex with Anna more frequently in the past few hours since you’ve started dancing, and it’s been a while since you two have relaxed. Utensils have fallen to the floor, there’s a print of sweat on the table from her back and shoulders; her knees a bruised (again), you don’t recall smacking her ass, and the fucking marks-

Anna kisses you again and holds her side, smacking her lips. “I need water,” she pouts. 

You thumb one of her bruises. “I can get you a cup if you’d like.” 

She meets your eyes, dreamily blinks. Even with her messy hair and blushed skin it doesn't set in on how you and Anna fucked on the table in the dining quarters. You help her down and give her a cup, seeing the water stream down calmly. She looks at the liquid, contemplating. And you realize sex has that effect indeed. 

“We need to have more control,” Anna concludes. “This can be a serious problem.” 

“The sex of the mess?" 

“You wanted me so bad that I can barely walk,” she tells you, trembling so much you swoop in and help her up. “This needs to be addressed later. And we have to make ground rules. Because if not, I’m going to end up dead and you’re gonna fuck a dead corpse-” 

She hears you sigh and chuckle, stopping her train of thought. “Before we can acknowledge the other issues, there’s cleaning up and walking back to bed. The list goes on if you want me to continue.” 

“I should have you carry me,” says Anna. “Folded me up akimbo and so pretzel-like. My bones are mush. My brain is mush. I’m gonna have an osteo condition now thanks to you-” 

Executive decision: “Let’s get you to bed, honey.” 

You swoop Anna off her feet. A closer look at her features: the fluttering lashes and small blush she applies when she can make you stare a little longer at her than she liked - considering how it’s a smeared mess and perhaps you did fuck a little too much. Appealing as it is, you like her pampered more than the latter. 

“You are okay, yes?” It’s worth the curious inquiry. 

“Aside from paralyzed from the waist down,” she jokes, “I guess you can say that I’m in good shape.” 

“The offer still stands for treatment, ma’am. A suggestion, after all.” 

“I am okay. Thank you for asking,” she smiles brightly at you. “Sweaty, messy. The usual deal. Also you came in me. Twice.” 

“We should be more mindful next time,” you say, laying her back on the bed. After all the attempts from earlier, you’ve finally made it. It’s a small win to log in your books. Definitely worth taking. 

“Hey,” Anna grabs your wrist, unwilling to let you leave. “You know: we just fucked.” 

“Mind I add more than once, too?” 

Anna purses her lips. “And you feel, okay?” 

You ponder for a second. “Exhilirating, aside from being messy and such.” 

“Me too. Not to mention sore-” 

“Yep. Even the sore part.” 

“God I feel amazing,” Anna huffs. “How long should I wait before we try it again?” 

“You’re just asking for another go at me, really? Whatever happened to resting, Anna.” 

Anna laughs, slapping your arm. “Could’ve just taken me to the shower, silly. Grab my washcloth and run it through some water. That’ll do for now.” 

–

(There’s an afterglow this time around - different from the other times you’ve seen it up close. A calming presence, a little more sensual. And it tugs at your core when you reach the bathroom, keeping the door ajar so she can see you in her peripheral. The washcloth goes warm in your hands - per her request - and the door closes back to her room. 

It’ll never be the same from this point on, and it’s something you’ve settled with.) 

–

Anna calls you over once she’s recovered, coming out of the bathroom not long after. She slips out of her bath towel, and this is the second time you’ve seen her naked. “You’re not going back to your pod, right?” 

“You propose that we are-” and your hands are out to divide the syllables: “sl-eep-ing to-ge-ther.” 

“Precisely. Do you want to sleep together?” 

“Follow up question: can we sleep together?” 

You freeze. “Something I believe we can try.” 

“I agree,” Anna concedes. “Now that I think about it, fucking on the bed would’ve been a lot more comfy.” 

“Anna, apologies.” You kneel at her feet before the bed. How badly you can crumble at the touch of her hand to your chin. “Promise that we shouldn’t be as rash.” 

Anna shakes it off. “Good fucking luck to us. We were always rash to begin with.” 

“Change can occur at any time.” 

“Customarily, sex has its own ecosystem,” she says, drying the ends of her hair. “When we’re done, we should have all the spots covered in the ship where we haven’t like ‘habitually fucked’ in the next couple cycles.” 

“You’re asking for a deathwish if you’re wondering if we fuck in the decompression chamber.” And Anna shares a smile. “Maybe somewhere we can easily relax and don’t have to move as much.” 

“The cockpit?” she sighs. “Romantic. But- I suppose that would be nice.” 

“Mhm?” 

“Yeah.” Anna replies, kissing your shoulder. “For the record: you’d make a fantastic lover. Date worthy.” 

While your reaction might be off-putting and bewildered, it’s easy to conclude that you’re blushing over the compliment. Then past the wave of happiness is despair, and here you’ve learned that the emotions boil over to something more solemn, regretful. You sniffle. That in itself is foreign to you, balling your hands into fists and not meeting her eyes. You actually go quiet. 

Anna leans over with concern. “Hey- did I mean to make you confused?” 

“I’m not even sure myself,” you answer looking over. 

“How do you feel right now?” 

“Can’t put it to one thing. Reminiscing for no reason- mourning as the other thing, I-” you cough, pinching your forehead. “I shouldn’t be regretful- okay. Anna, can we-” 

She doesn’t let you finish and tugs you over further to her bed. A few moments pass with you two figuring out the small arrangement. But then you see the inside of her bunk more and notice the new details about her: a sakura flower drawn to remind her of home, the faded polaroid of her first day in the academy. 

“You’re surprisingly warm,” says Anna while nestling to your side. “As if you’ve done this before.” 

“I’ve learned a few thing or two.” 

Anna hums, unconvinced. “Is that so?” 

You kiss her hairline, pull her closer. Safe to assume that she’s comfortable. Her arm goes across to your left. You breathe in relief. “Would be lying if I said I didn’t practice,” you answer. “Emotions are one thing; though, if it weren’t the movies we watched together. I would be lacking in the intimacy category.” 

“You’re already exceeding my expectations,” Anna ends off with. “I knew you’d like those movies.” 

–

Later, she switches the lights off. Well aware of what you want to keep sacred. You’re her saving grace, a blessing she’d never expect to have. 

When you two kiss again, it feels deep into the shrouded darkness. 

–

(memory playback #11: When you meet Gawon for the first time, you’re treating a wound to your stomach and have become numb to the medicine spray. Somewhere in a city of Aurelia you kiss her through a rusted blackbox recorder; look up from the wreckage and mark your love with bombs and paint before the waters get too tepid just on the surface. Maybe the roots will grow deep through the water, and you think a slit throat would be the solution for your pierced heart- 

final playback: “I love you too. I hope you know that,” you say. Holding each other’s face dear in the chaos of war. Her trauma is equal as yours and it’ll burn you two up like the rest of the world-) 

–

You learn again: 

Anna’s quarters (along with her bed) is in complete disarray. She’s got the blankets covering the vents; her pillows are smushed into a heap and there’s so many things here that are out of place in the ship. In her case, she never really understood the sleep subroutines you deal with. Despite how smart she is studying astrodynamics, it does not show in engineering. All the more reason to write little post-it notes everywhere on the ship to keep her from not fucking things up.

In the end: it’s really cute.

You place an unfinished canvas on the easel, she hugs you from behind. 

There’s a simplicity to this. 

“I love the whole idea of you,” she says, pulling your chin to her. “My cute big owl, hm?” 

“Take it that you’re okay?” 

“Dear, I’m fucking sore.” Anna groans, begrudgingly. “Blame my own arrogance that we won’t be able to do it again for a few days.” 

“Pushed your luck and see what happened? How many orgasms did you have?” 

“You made me cum four times,” she counts on her fingers. “I made you cum half of those times. But seriously. We need to have an intervention about those dreams of yours. They’re wickedly fucked up.” 

To that, you smile. Actually, you laugh. It’s not in your code to elicit such a reaction, and the leniency needs to be reviewed. You’ve kept your guard up, but Anna has managed to melt you down to a puddle of metal. Change isn’t instantaneous - let today be the nexus of a psychoanalysis that may take days- week- or even months to figure out. A relationship doesn’t happen like the big bang, obviously, but it’s good to have a theory about it. 

“What else did you see?” You ask. “How fucked up were they?” 

“Someone that’s obsessed,” she answers. Finger to her lip. “Issues and things that we need practice on. That’s what I think.” 

You square shoulders, crossing arms. “Elaborate.” 

“Imagine a parallel world. Where everything is perfect, and we wouldn’t have any baggage to carry, sharing the simple life that we’ve dreamed of having. With the best part being the fact that it never ends.” 

It’s worth imagining. “Right,” you say. “Our reality isn’t like that, sadly.” 

Anna rolls her eyes, slumping her back. “Ugh, I had a feeling you were gonna say that.” Humbling, for one, yet she flashes a smile nonetheless. “Everyone’s always told me that I dream too much. Dream, dream, dream. Never wondering about the ‘knowns’ of our world. Makes me feel stuck.” 

“You can dream with me,” you reassure. ‘that’s one of the reasons why I’m in love with you.’ “I admire these aspirations.” 

She hugs you, yawning. “Okay,” she hums. “Promise me you’ll watch?” 

And you’ll keep this star closer with the cosmos. 

///

“Does right now sound better?” 

“I thought you were working?” 

“I worked five days nonstop last week so they were nice to give me the day off. A pretext for being the first contact if something goes to shit, so go figure I guess.” 

“Sucks.” 

“I know.” Karina sighs dismissively. “Where are you on campus?” 

“Near the science building. Walking.” 

“Wait for me there. I’ll scoop you up at the drop off zone.” 

“Waiting,” you say in a sweet tone. 

“Good,” says Karina, but the line hasn’t gone cold. You wonder if she forgot about the call, and you see the timer still increasing until she adds, cutely: “Can’t wait to see you.” 

She hangs up before you could utter a response. 

–

Thirty minutes of switching between socials and fiddling the phone is a good way to pass time. Until Karina’s car pulls up and she opens the door, grinning with sunglasses on her head. “Hi.” She greets, smiling. You haven’t got used to the red leather seats of her car yet. 

“Hi,” you’re saying back, cringing inside how dumb she makes you act. Karina however, knows the effect she has on people- on you. 

“So,” she says, chuckling. Leaning in her seat and putting the car forward. You watch her hands move the wheel with such finesse - one handed and everything. “Class went alright?” 

“Just a lecture. Nothing significant to report.” 

“Lecture on what?” 

“Eh, perhaps the challenging undertones presented at different stages from a sociological standpoint.” You say casually, freezing after. “I don’t think you’d want to hear that- uh, I mean- at least how I’m explaining it-” 

Karina’s side eye makes you inhale a smile; gears winding inside her head. “Productive lesson it is.” 

Your palm’s to the ceiling. “The topic itself is stretched across two lectures. Apparently they mentioned a guest speaker coming next month to discuss it. Said she focuses on psychotherapy and that already sounds interesting when the time comes.” 

“Who’s the guest speaker?” Karina asks. “Now you got me wondering who they invited.” 

“They didn’t say.” You smirk at Karina’s willingness to know more. Chaewon, at times, blocked you out entirely - when she felt needed to. “Enough about me. Anything happened at work this past week?” 

Karina scrunches her nose. “Well, we almost called the wrong time of death for a rolled-in trauma patient; had a bullet wound in his head and the metal was cascading into the brain if it wasn’t treated right away. They even had the audacity to make him a donor since he wasn’t responding. 

“Jesus,” you gasp. “Did you guys-” 

“Thanks to me. My coworker’s on the hospital’s shitlist after the stunt he pulled.” 

“You mentioned that they were brought on board very recently. To already have them cut off doesn’t look right.” 

Karina lifts her brow. “I already did.” 

–

When you see where Karina lives, you can’t stop looking from the sunroof. 

“Really? Here?!” 

She laughs at you, turning into a driveway and placing the car in her designated spot. Once out, she watches you gawking - your neck at a complete right angle looking up. “I wouldn’t be surprised,” you say, breathless, “Seriously, this place is-” 

“I know,” Karina shrugs as she takes your hand. She greets the green-dressed woman with a bob-cut standing under the awning and enters inside. Everything in the foyer is spacious and looks to be ready for a backdrop at a movie shoot. Not to mention the lift to Karina’s floor- which didn’t even feel like a lift at all. Down the hallway and the door into Karina’s estate, it didn’t stop there. You’re gagged - eyes wide as an entrée plate. Karina giggles with a scrunch. “Expecting something more grand?” 

“You and I have a different idea for a high-rise apartment.” 

“Coming from someone who could be the head of the state.” You tell her, in trade with a baffled look. 

Karina grins behind her finger, “Depends on how you define the term ‘high-rise’.” 

That said, her place isn’t exactly glamorous like you initially thought, but it was still a decent spot in the city. Most of the space has been occupied with modern furnishings, let alone the flatscreen floating over the fireplace. A moon pit couch dressed in a rich, green shade, recently bought it seems. 

You walk around and look up, spin on your toes. “You haven’t eaten, right?” Karina asks you from the kitchen, “I’ve got some bites from yesterday’s lunch.” 

“What’s on the menu?” 

“Some exotic spot, catered too,” she says, walking with an open container in her hands. “My supervisor Jisoo recommended it to the other members on the floor and we got it. Go on, it’s pretty good.” 

You pout, accepting the offer, hand in Karina’s on the way back to the couch. Your legs stretch out and the cushion molds beneath your thighs. Karina puts both legs over yours, schooching closer. 

A spoonful goes to your mouth, and you offer the utensil back to Karina, to which she refuses. “You don’t want any?” 

“I already had some earlier.” 

“How early?” 

“Like on-break-at-my-work early.” Karina answers and you hum and unimpressive noise, but you feed her a scoop with a smile before taking the rest away. 

A thought sparks in your head: “What do you mean by, you already did?” 

“Hm?” 

“About that new coworker who almost shit the bed in the ER. I mentioned that you should give them another chance to redeem themselves but you said that already happened.” 

“With the new hires,” Karina scratches her head, slightly embarrassed. “I suppose there’s more power to my word compared to the other seasoned surgeons there.” 

“What makes you say that?” 

Karina looks at the blank television. She inhales sharply, “My mom’s in charge of the board.” 

That’s something you didn’t know about her: “You profited the easy way up.” 

“Something like that. Though- ugh. I signed up there along with all the other top places in the city. My mom isn’t even involved in the freaking hiring process.” 

“Though she must’ve done something to get you in, no?” 

“Connections can benefit those who take advantage,” drawls Karina. 

“Shit.” You sigh. Then again, it shouldn’t even come as a revelation. Privilege is a concept you’re very familiar with. Gaeul’s family was regal throughout high school, and Momo’s a trust fund baby traveling the world, working on an island without any debts. The realm of wealth has orbited in your life for as long as you could remember. 

Maybe Karina isn’t like the others, the way she bears this cross on her own. It’s not for recognition nor praise. For one, she’s got a decent closet, but her attitude negates the appearance altogether. She views the world differently when one has deep pockets. 

That kind of wealth is something you know little about, too. 

You sigh. “Are you the only one in your family focusing on medical?” 

“My sister-” Karina pauses, pondering on her choice of words, “-step-sister, actually. She’s one. And my uncle was a pharmacist for a while before he decided to switch endeavours to things more worth his time.” 

“What kind are we talking about?” 

“He went into freelance photography. Bless him.” 

“So is medicine the common thread in your lineage?” 

Karina cackles, the hand on belly kind. “Not really. My parents wanted me to find something fun, and seeing how it played out with Ningning - my stepsister, by the way - they gave me full support in whatever I wanted.” 

“Why medicine?” 

She swallows another piece of the soft, lukewarm dumplings. “It was appealing to me back in high school. After graduating, I was undecided whether or not to pursue it fully. Then my uncle’s coworker at the time convinced me to keep going.” Karina explains, face brightening up the more she talks. “I thought about it for a long while and went: okay, why the hell not? And I stuck with it.” 

You’re amazed by the mere simplicity of it. Karina gazes into your eyes - seeing a sliver of her younger self. “Look at you now.” You coo, lips pursed. “Especially at your age. I wish I did something like that for myself.” 

“It isn’t all that,” she shrugs, chuckling. “Working to get the education covered in high school was a bit draining. Though, it made more sense considering med school was going to take up most of the time anyway.” 

“I admire your thinking,” you say. “I admire how you go about your life. Your mind. Just-” 

You. The thought makes you wince. Tugs on the heartstrings a little more harshly. Like you’re yearning, longing. The idea of you. You. All of you. 

It’s damning to admit. So you won’t. That’s not the reason why you’re here. 

“-how you figured all that out,” you say instead. It stings silently after. “I wish I had that for my story, pfft.” 

“Ah, you’re fine,” comforts Karina. Grin spreading across her face, veneers brighter than her fair skin. As smart as she is, it’s rare for her to be dense for a second. “I can tell you the tale about how my roommate and I got locked in my department’s building for a night or two.” 

–

You knock on the door of Karina’s study hours later. “Is this a bad time?” 

“Not at all,” you hear her answer on the other side, muted into the wood. “Come on in.” 

When you swing the door slowly, you’re hesitant; as if you’re intruding a space you have no right stepping in. The office itself is nice (just like the rest of the freaking house). In the middle was a desk with all assorted items like the desktop, files, the cup full of different pens. On the side is a bookshelf with thick spines and marked in names you’ve never seen before. A couch on the opposite end with a thick duvet next to the armrest. If she ever needed to nap, she wouldn’t have to go far. 

Karina smiles at you with her glasses. A relief for her case - considering she’s been essentially locked up here in a call for the past hour or so, probably more. “Everything okay?” 

“Yeah, I just wanted to check in on you.” You answer, standing behind the chair, arms to her chest. 

“It’s past eight.” Karina realizes on her desktop, squinting. “You should probably eat something.” 

“I’d say the same for you.” 

“Can’t. I’ll join you once I get through this last stack of files.” 

“And I’m telling you to take a break,” you tell her, locking your arms. She shifts over so you’re half sitting on the edge, carding fingers into her hair. Her face looks tired - you could see it in the eyes alone. “Five minutes is all I ask. Maybe ten.” Karina hums low, looking up, wisps of hair falling at the front and her arms at the sides, exhausted. A mere luxury to see her like this. Your lip slightly quivers because of it. 

“I’m telling you,” she says, “No.” 

“Five minutes,” you repeat. 

“These binders aren’t gonna be cleared themselves. This stack on the desk should be the last of them.” 

“You can do that right after,” you’re saying. Knees in the space of hers and cupping her nape. “I want three minutes of your time.” 

“Three minutes is all I need for one binder.” Karina muses. 

“Also enough time to have a few bites of leftovers.” You reply back. 

“I can eat later.” 

“You don’t even want your beef broccoli?” 

To that, Karina stifles a laugh, hands around your bottom thighs. “If I can work through these, we’ll have a late night munch somewhere. Sound good?” 

Your lips fall flat. To be fair, you’re not asking for much - not the presence or the lovely meal treat. You were never one to reinforce bad behavior to get what you want or the attention along with it. If anything, you just want to be seen; a preferred approach would be Karina to think more than just herself. 

Karina gets up thanks to you, thumb dancing along her jaw. She leans down and kisses you, slowly. Each peck matching a step backward, unknowingly pulling her away from the desk and to the couch. You take the chance to gander down her slender neck. 

“Couch,” you beg, quietly. “For a few minutes.” To that, she complies, spinning around and sinking onto the cushions beneath. She exhales, dispersing breaths racked in her chest, eyelids lidded, fluttering; you dip down again to her neck, visible tension at the lines of her shoulders. 

She knows the untapped power you possess, carding your fingers through her hazel locks. Karina doesn’t flinch when you lay your palm flat over her crotch, feel her mouth go slack. You grin at that. 

“You’ve got a taste of me,” you whisper. “More than once, but I never got the chance to return the favor.” 

“It’s always better to hear you cry than have your fingers buried in me. Though, I won’t stop you,” Karina chortles, but the tone of her voice sounds unsure, sealing her own fate. 

You can’t ignore the throbbing between your legs, hopping on Karina’s lap and kissing her once more, panting down on her tongue as she helps you fiddle with the bottom buttons of her shirt - her pants. She tenses up even more, clawing your thighs and nearly tearing skin. 

“Baby,” you chant the pet name, it could drive her insane. “You deserve to.” 

Karina tilts her chin, eyes unwilling to meet at first, but soon locked with yours. Behind hers is the unrelenting desire of taking, selfishness would be an understatement. 

“If you let me,” you’re saying, lowly, between begging and desperation, “You won’t regret it.” 

She bobs her head on reflex, then repeats the same motion firmly: there’s your answer. 

Your fingers hook her pants and you pull them down as you kneel. 

The shudders her body makes when you lazily kiss her waist, fingers sliding up her thighs, the fabric of her panties tethered to her skin. You could spot the damp spot at the center - the evidence caused from you; she tenses at the mere hush of your breath over her core - you haven’t met anyone that’s wanted you this badly. 

Karina opens her shirt more as you slip her out of her panties, your face gets warmer. Glistening folds consuming your view, tongue coating with the first slow licks. You grin at the twitch in her hips, pepper her cunt with more kisses, and she fights against the press of your hands on her thighs, burying your mouth. 

You keep pace, see what responds to most. Sucking on her clit, slipping a finger or two inside her walls; even the subtle drag of your nails to her legs. She doesn’t offer you a moment to breathe, pulling your head back in, humming at her hot core - the grip in your scalp enough to be ripped off. 

“Oh- oh my christ-” moans Karina. “Like that. Honey, just like that-” 

She digs her heel into your collarbone, to help compensate for the three-digit-curl you got buried in her pussy. Nose to her clit, lapping up the slick as she comes down. Karina seethes as her eyes fall on you - the sight of licking your lips enough to make her lose it on the sofa. 

It’s a tumble from a kick of the foot, Karina straddling you with your wrists pinned above your head. “That’s the only one off you’ll get,” she sneers wickedly, the corner of her mouth twitching with power. “Now it’s my turn.” 

Somehow you’ve kept yourself calm, ignoring the pulse between your legs with her knee brushed up in the space. You try to break free from her grasp, only to fail. She meets you with another desperate kiss, sliding your pants down and ripping your panties off. Every move Karina does is a practical vice: clutching every bit of you and with no chance to resist. Your shirt is next to be slipped out, and her hot mouth adds on to the rising heat on your chest. 

You wince as she pinches a nipple, clawing your breast. “I love every part of you,” she breathes. Dipping down to your collar. Her hand pushes your leg, spreading you open. Fondling. 

The ache is unbearable. You need her to satiate it. 

Karina hushes into your ear, coaxing. “Shh, shh. I’ve got you. What do you need? Tell me.” 

“Karina,” you gasp, “God, please.” 

“I’ll give it to you,” she whispers back. “If you want me.” 

You nod feverishly as she palms your cunt. As soon as the press of her thumb nubs the entrance, your gut tightens like it’s ready for a punch. “Look at you, all ready for it.” 

“You- fucking-” 

“Oh, I know darling.” She says into your shoulder, finding that sweet spot she discovered a while back. “It isn’t enough anyway.” 

Karina loves doing this - while you’re clenching around her fingers. You grab her hand and she groans, curling two digits inside. She licks the tears weeping out at the corners, reveling in adoration. 

“Deliberate little girl,” she praises, looking down at the motion of her fingers spreading you open. “Love having you like this; having you clamp my hand-” 

“Yes,” you agree, mind and body twisted to the touch. 

She doubles down on the rubbing, clashing tongue and teeth with you as your whole body goes slightly limp from the stimulation. It’s everything you’ve wanted - dreamed of - cumming with no reprieve and yelling at the top of your lungs. Karina’s three fingers and thumb press at your clit makes you cum again in no time. 

You lean up weakly to kiss her, taste the salt on her taste buds and suck up her mouth once the pleasure’s all washed away, in thanks. You’re thankful she could make you feel like you’re in heaven and it goes way beyond just the sex. The nook in your brain is occupied by her, and only her. 

“Very lovely of you,” sighs Karina, licking your chin, eyes lidded like she’s the one cumming now. “One more, for me.” 

She places her hand in the same spot as you bracket her hips, building the same pace in her fingers as before. “Hold me- just like this, just like-” 

Then she pauses, failing to register the ear-piercing squeal ringing the glass and her eardrums by you. Her other hand pressing firmly on your bottom lip, feeling the gush of your pussy on her fingertips. 

“Sorry,” Karina says first, hesitant. “I’d keep going, but I’ll kill you in the process.” 

Your fingers curl around her hand, pushing in deeper. She drops a confused look over you. “Why not?” 

She scowls at the clench. “You’re asking for it, aren’t you?” 

“Who says I am? It’s just the reaction.” 

Karina’s eyes shimmer with a renewed fire, sparked with intent. “I’ve never failed in achieving all the things I’ve sought out to do. Because I knew I could do it. You’re not safe either because there’s things I want involving you too, right?” 

Oh fuck. Your mouth quirks, without the sound airing the words. “Why don’t you prove it-” 

She’s quick to scoop you up from the floor, arms hoisting you by the ass. “I’m gonna make you cum again, but I need you to sit on my face first.” 

You laugh heartily as Karina rushes down the hall to her bedroom, the laughing progressively getting louder deep in the apartment. 

–

Yunjin calls you once the cooler, autumn air starts to prick at the tips of your ears. Her name on the phone screen and you’re dancing with the idea of not answering, but for another time: “Hi, Jen.” 

“Cousin.” Yunjin greets that isn’t a hello. “Are you busy right now?” 

“Class got dismissed,” you drawl, smirking. “On my way home actually.” 

“Usually you’re with one or two people if I recall.” 

“I mean, yeah?” You answer. “Not today since everyone’s out within speed dial.” 

“Even the two girls who look like top models for the MET gala?” 

“Wonyoung? Or Yujin?” You remark. “That’s a cute compliment, but they’re also focusing on their own studies. Even when they’re not putting the dating title to themselves, yet.” 

“What about you? Are you doing the same thing?” 

You stop short. It shouldn’t mean much, anyway. Knowing Yunjin, she’d ask depending on the importance. You’re hoping the safe answer would be enough to suffice: “I don’t have time for lovey dovey stuff.” 

“You said that last time.” 

“Yet you’re asking me again.” You dart back. “I would’ve brought it up as the first thing if that were the case, especially since the holidays are around the corner.” 

“The occasion doesn’t technically apply to this conversation.” 

“Jen, we all have things that aren’t worth sharing.” 

“I wasn’t even prying to begin with. It was just making sure you’re not sulking around being lonely.” Her voice rises aggressively. “Jeez, listen to the intonation.” 

You wince, stopping at the top of the stairway onto the main street from campus. “Sorry, I just wanted to know why the sudden inquiry.” 

“You’re doing the same thing again: not texting or calling me back. I assumed that you were busy getting your life in place that wasn’t just talking to auntie Sakura.” 

“This grad program is the ticket to my dream life, Yunjin.” You say, voice soft and with a scrunch of your nose. “Things have been a bit- hectic, recently.” 

“I’ve figured.” Yunjin replies before the call gets muted - which you can only assume that she was still at work and typically on break around this time. “By the way, auntie said she can’t make it up for the weekend. Plus I’m gonna be busy well into the break, so there’s a high chance we won’t see each other.” 

It was always work, that’s the excuse. Yunjin’s been like this since your high school days. You’ve tried to pry every now and then, but it would always end with Yunjin hanging you out without an answer. “Finals are coming up anyway, plus the supplementary courses are taking a toll as it is.” 

“But we always see each other for thanksgiving since you got to college.” 

“It’s just one of those times where it doesn’t work out, I get it.” 

“You’re sure there isn’t anything fishy going on with you?” 

“There isn’t, Jen.” you into the phone. “If there was, you would’ve been the first to know.” 

(A part of you cares, but the rest could be disregarded. You think Yunjin would be concerned for having the same feeling hidden within as well.)

Yunjin sighs. “If you do call me, I’ll answer right away. I hope you remember that.” 

You stare down Yunjin’s name and contact photo, looking up with a weight off your shoulders. 

–

A few days later, the doorbell gets your attention. You swing the door open with the heater running and there’s- 

Wonyoung. 

She stands across with folded arms, her prime resting bitch face for you to see. “Am I like your cousin now?” 

“What?” 

“You haven’t been getting back to me,” she accuses, walking past you with the trail of Tiffany & Co. wafting behind. She slips out of her trench coat and sets her bag down on the counter. “Spill,” Wonyoung demands. “I need to hear everything she did.” 

“Wony, what the fuck.” 

“Don’t ‘what the fuck’ me. Ms. "I'm hooking up with my older-rich-secret-girlfriend’.” 

You’re left astounded. Wonyoung usually has that effect on people. “Look, I can explain-” 

“I let it slide for the past few weeks or so,” says Wonyoung. “But putting your phone on perma DND - without giving me a heads up? That shit doesn’t fly by me.” 

You nod. “So that’s what this is about. I didn’t even realize-” you’re checking the calendar app, ensuring her point adds up. “Oh shit. Wonyoung, I- oh no, I’m so sorry-” 

To your assumptions, you have been closing yourself off from the others. Wonyoung’s messages on the left side occupy the whole screen. Messages from your best friend. Besides her, Karina was only the other person (and auntie Sakura on occasion) you’ve kept your time open to; when you brush over the last conversation with her, it was about exchanging- 

Hm. 

“Fuck,” you huff, head full of disappointment, taking Wonyoung’s hands and pulling her towards the couch. “Wonyoung, I’m so fucking sorry. I’ve been meaning to tell you, Yujin, fucking Miyeon- hell, anybody about my recent updates. I guess-” 

“Sounds like somebody’s in love.” Wonyoung eases. 

“Pretty much,” you laugh, “I mean- my TA said my current research project is coming along well. If anything, life’s been pretty good to me.”

Wonyoung applauses, patting your thigh. “That’ll be cool to see you showcase it at the department event next spring! Aren’t you excited?” 

“Hell yeah,” you grin. 

Wonyoung scooches closer. “I didn’t mean what I said, about the whole ignoring me part. Yujin and I used to be like you, and I know it was a pain in the ass to make time for me.” 

“In some ways,” you admit. 

“You wanna elaborate?” 

“Well you and Yujin are dating, Karina and I are-” 

Your mouth freezes, looking away. Wonyoung always noticed when something was up. She pulls you in for a hug, cheek to the bridge of your collarbone. “You don’t have to say it, I know,” she whispers. But you slightly shake your head in denial. 

“It’s a bit confusing to say, let alone think.” 

“You’ve been on the honeymoon phase already. Maybe it’s time to finally step back and reconsider what you want for yourself.” Wonyoung says. “There’s other ways to make money and plus-” she massages your arm, “-you don’t really need her.” 

You’re somewhat in denial, but hopeful to stay with the truth. “I don’t,” you breathe, it’s an instilled belief. “I can get by on my own.” 

–

Remind yourself: one thing shouldn’t affect the other. 

Even if the one of many things are your thoughts with Karina occupying your mind way more than it should, it’s substituted with a variety of options: socializing, the thesis, keeping Wonyoung in the loop. With the additional money left over, it also calls for some makeovers- 

“When I said a ‘makeover’,” Karina says over the phone, you smirk while shoulder to ear. “I thought it meant like- freaking clothes or bags amongst all things, but-” 

“I’ve been meaning to get new stuff for the place,” you exclaim, phone now on speaker, on top of a box against the wall. “It was between the new desk or the dresser. Those were top priority.” 

“So you went with the dresser?” 

Granted, Karina wasn’t asking about the furniture. It was more on the amount of money sent being enough to get the damn thing in the first place. You’ve got your tongue on teeth, smiling. “The dresser.” 

“Babe, I gave you my card so you could get some stuff for yourself.” 

You examine the card between your fingers. “And I did. It is something for myself.” 

“You’re not actually gonna start building it, right?” 

“Uh, I am.” 

“You’re gonna need help. I’ll do it if it’s fine with you.” 

You shake your head, “I’ve done this already, and with Wonyoung’s help of course.” 

“How much do you wanna put if I can get it finished before your initial answer, hm?” 

“We are not doing an over-under on a freaking dresser, Karina.” You groan. 

“Watch me,” she huffs over the phone. “I’ll be there in twenty.” 

–

Karina manages to get most of the dresser done, in the midst of all the curses and wiping sweat off her face from time to time. Her hair’s in a low and loose ponytail, shirt folded and hanging off the waistline of her pants. It’s salivating for you to see her a black sports bra. “I can help you if-” 

“You’re not moving from that bed,” she points to you with the pliers, scowling. “Give me a few minutes.” Funnily enough, she was almost done. The last bit was putting the drawers in and putting the handles together. 

While that was happening, you made an effort to work on your thesis- or study, but most of the words in the book started to blend together. The same could be said for reading, no luck there. Irene’s texts were even drier than the heat after you found out she and Seulgi went out together. Yes, it was good news, but Karina fixing her bra is the current report. 

“This mesh is fucking terrible,” she says to herself. 

“Should’ve taken off the last layer,” you mutter. 

“That would be flashing you, indirectly.” Karina snaps, eyes narrowed. “I apologize if it’s distracting.” 

“It wouldn’t be,” you retort. She was already on edge earlier when Wonyoung spontaneously called you about Yujin’s latest shoot. The next worst thing you could’ve possibly done is unintentionally give Karina a show on the bed but the pride got overshadowed by the shyness altogether. 

“Alright,” she twists the screw and pushes the drawer in, sighing with relief. “I think we’re done.” 

You sit up on the bed and see Karina fiddle with the six drawers. Kneeling at one end before moving around for a final check. Once she’s done, she pats the top, happy with her handiwork. “Should’ve put money on it.” 

“But it would’ve been a meaningless bet,” you laugh. 

“In the end, I get to keep my money.” Karina beams, raising her arm to stretch one side, and her face warps. She’s rubbernecking her neck and shoulder in discomfort. “God damnit.” 

That makes you stand up and walk over. “What happened?” 

“I don’t- ah,” she winces. “Of course it’s the same fucking- muscle, jesus.” 

Luckily, she doesn’t fight your help towards the bed, nestling in the cushions while you feel out her body on your palms. She squirms a bit at the double stack of thumbs on the spine, waiving with her fingers. “A little more to the left.” 

You take that into account and listen to her request, knee to her side and pressing firmly. Karina’s head plops into the pillow. It makes you giggle. 

“You’re enjoying this,” she says into the sheets. 

“So you don’t want the help?” 

She resists your moving fingers, tensing. “You’re definitely enjoying this.” 

“To be fair- your back was hunched most of the time, I think the signs showed as soon as you got up.” 

“I rarely hunch my back,” drawls Karina. “Except this once, I guess.” 

“Which is completely fine, and look-” Karina tenses up again and balls her fists with the sheets between her fingers, “-okay, you’re not gonna get anywhere if you don’t like my hands all over you.” 

She mumbles a soft sentence. You notice at the last second. 

“You’re not old,” you tell her. “I heard that.” 

“It’s not common to have a strained back from standing all day,” Karina huffs. “I swear-” 

“Pretty common if you don’t deal with it right away,” you say dryly. “And I’m not the one studying medicine here.” 

Karina curses into the pillow, fully relaxing to your touch. You kiss her neck and tickle her ear. “I’m just messing around.” 

“You really like taking advantage of my groveling,” she says, perking her head around while you finish kneading the tense knots. “It kinda concerns me.” 

“I’m just good at managing your sour attitude,” you sigh, kissing her temple. “My own words of wisdom.” 

You pinch both of her shoulders, burying your nose into her hair. She turns her head the same direction and pecks your cheek. There’s a quick moment of gazing into each other’s eyes before meeting lips again; no rush carried, but that gets negated with the urgency of hands to thighs. Karina slips out of her bra while you straddle, chest exposed for you, yearning at the sight of the rolling hips on hers. 

She’s quick to grab your neck and pull you in, breathing into your mouth. Her thigh lifts and brushes your clothed cunt, making you freeze at the sudden pressure. You push down on her leg and move your hips, feeling her breath quiver from the sounds escaping past your teeth. “I was expecting you to touch yourself- watching me all sweaty and icky and-” 

“Fuck, you’re insane.” You could’ve, really. She’s absolutely right. 

Karina pulls you closer and you wrap your arms around her head, heaving into her open mouth. The friction between your legs hunches you over. Her teeth opening to your smile and the both of you laugh at the same time. 

That is, until the doorbell rings. 

You look over before Karina steals your attention back on her. “Nuh uh,” she coos, licking your collarbone. “Stay on my leg, just like that.” 

Your fingers card her hair, grasping the scalp, imagining the hunger in her eyes once she’s down on you - enough to send tremors in your throat. Then the beeping of the new lock on the door fills your ears. 

“It’s me.” Yunjin’s muffled voice is heard beyond the door. “When the fuck did you get a passcode knob?” 

“Why now,” you mutter, hushed curses weeping past your lips. Of all times, why the fuck would you show up now? 

Karina loosens her grasp, sitting up as you hobble off the bed. Fixing your clothes and checking your face. “Who’s at the door?” 

“Yunjin,” you answer, panic coursing in milliseconds. “She’s my cousin.” 

“Oh,” Karina freezes, “Is that a-” 

“Exactly what it is,” you quip. “If I’m seen with you, I’m in deep shit.” 

“You’re not serious.” Karina’s shoulders slump. “Why can’t I-” 

“Don’t try it, Karina.” You instruct and you’re bolting to the front door. A turn of the lock and you open the door, seeing Yunjin shoulder her bag, flipping a few ends of her hair. 

You tense before putting on the figurative mask: “Yunjin!!!! Hello!!” She purses her lips back at you, tapping your arm as she walks in, noticing the small bundle of boxes left nearby the door. “I wasn’t expecting you to make the trip up.” 

“Should’ve mentioned you were redecorating,” she chuckles, setting her things down. “When did that happen?” 

“Well, a few days ago,” you answer. “It was about time anyway.” 

“A heads up would’ve been nice.” 

“What for?!” You exclaim. “You expect me to call you about every little thing about my life?” 

“I don’t. Only in the case where you’re buying things above the paygrade.” 

You pat down the box. “Clearance goes big when it happens.” To that, Yunjin arches a brow, accepting the assumption. “By the way, you didn’t let me know about stopping by.”

“You’re on break,” she tells you. “I figured I'd save the trouble.” 

“Yet you told me about the busy schedule, and Sakura-” 

“She knows I’m visiting,” she adds, giving a long gaze towards your direction. From the eyes alone; they’re cold, but curious beneath the hazel irises. “Two out of three is better than none.” 

“Right,” you say, slow. “I- uh, just ran out of food. And I was gonna go out-” 

“Why is your face red?” Yunjin suddenly asks. “Don’t tell me you were masturbating-” 

“Yunjin. For fuck’s sake. No.” 

Unfortunately, that answer isn’t enough to convince her. Suddenly your name echoes down the hallway, and Karina walks into the light - her appearance cleaned up and smirking devilishly towards Yunjin. 

“You wanna explain to me-” Yunjin stutters, “Who is this woman?” 

“Yunjin!” 

Your cousin folds her arms, eyebrows creased and fingers tapping skin at a fast pace. “This isn’t one of your friends, let alone a person that I know, too.” 

“Yu Jimin,” Karina supplies, sticking her hand out in offering. “I go by Karina amongst friends.” Yunjin, as you’d expect, isn’t buying any of this. She walks back to you, facing off with a similar height and mannerisms.  

“I hope you have a really good explanation for all of this.” Your cousin seethes, in all obvious points of pissed. 

–

Yunjin death-grips your wrist, drags herself out to the walkway outside, pulling you like a little kid having a tantrum type of thing. “So? Who is she?” 

You hesitate - a bad move already. She stands tall across while Karina waits back inside. How having her close by would be a whole lot better than the latter. “Hello? Am I talking to a fucking wall?” 

In her case technically, she is. “My-” 

“Spit it out.” 

“My girlfriend.” Suddenly your tongue feels like sandpaper. 

“I’m not buying it.” She sighs, unimpressed.

“Because she doesn’t match the look of her age?” 

“You didn’t even tell me that,” Yunjin spits after, put-off. 

“She’s thirty.” You supply, indignant. 

“And that’s a seven year gap compared to you.” 

“I’m twenty four in a couple months,” you retort. “Besides, I didn’t ask for your opinion.” 

“I expected you to date someone around your age.” 

“Wow.” You can’t be bothered about the insult. “How old is your little fling? Kazuha was her name, right? Answer me that.” 

“You knew better. Putting yourself out there to be taken advantage of is not how we raised you.” 

“Jen, you don’t think I know that?! My life is my own to live. Sometimes that requires me to thrive in isolation in order to achieve the things that I want.” Yunjin’s expression goes blank. Clearly unconvinced. “Karina’s treated me well, anyway! She makes sure that I’m not in a sour mood, and just very supportive and understanding. Can’t you see-” 

“What about your finances?” She suddenly asks you. “I haven’t heard about that from you in a while.” 

“I don’t complain about it that much anymore.” 

“I’ve seen the tuition bill, genius.” Yunjin deadpans. “Now: where did you get the money?” 

In a nanosecond, your brain short circuits. You can’t blatantly lie in front of your fucking cousin, because that’s just wrong. It’s not in your nature. Honesty is a key part in your personal coat of arms: “Okay, I-” 

“If money is the concern, then that’s something you mention to me. Not her.” A voice swivels Yunjin and your attention to Karina, standing in the open door. She seems calm, but you can see her masked anger hiding within. Your stomach drops ten floors, the bob in your throat clogging up the airway- 

Yunjin, not to your surprise, brings the fight to her: “Alright then. What’s your deal, huh?” 

“My deal is that pressuring your little cousin isn’t gonna get you anywhere.” Karina answers. “Like I said: if money’s the main issue, then you bring it to my attention.”

Karina stares down Yunjin’s subtle nod. “Okay miss priss. I’ll allow that.” 

“I’m just stating my case,” Karina drawls. 

“You haven’t made a case for yourself,” she replies back.

“I have no issue with her, and the same could be said on her part too.” You’re left in awe, jumbling fingers together since you’re nervous. Yunjin notices Karina fixing her wrist, the same seiko watch you remember seeing the night you met. 

“Pretty well off for a woman like you,” Yunjin assesses. “That’s not daddy’s money now, is it?” 

“Yunjin, christ.” You cringe at her backhanded complement.

“The bankroll’s a lot kinder to me,” Karina beams, and Yunjin shakes her head unconvinced. She gets a good look at her appearance and nods, but that could mean a few things. 

Yunjin takes a second to reconsider her angle, gazing down and looking back at you. “You’re still hungry, yeah?” 

“Yeah?” You shrug. “What does that have to do with-” 

“Okay, you’re hungry, End of story.” 

“Alright,” you say with rolling eyes. Yunjin looks right at Karina again. “Can the same be said for her?” 

“I’m starving,” Karina dishes candidly, tone flat. 

“Grab your jacket,” Yunjin tells the both of you. “I’m buying.” 

–

Yunjin takes you two to this one cafè on the eastside, ordering drinks for all three and giving Karina a neat sandwich salad plate since she insisted. You’re nursing your vanilla latte while Yunjin’s eyes are laser focused, burning into your head. Karina bites down her sandwich, humming in approval at the food. 

You place the cup down, meeting Yunjin’s expression and nudge Karina’s bumping knee, clutching to it and feeling her fingers caress yours, calming. 

“I still can’t believe you,” Yunin starts, disappointment unshaken. “Keeping a secret like this from me for a long while.” 

“Since I knew how this would be your reaction,” you snap. “Not liking the kind of shit I do for myself.” 

“Yourself?” 

“How I want to live my life. The way you wanna fucking micromanage every little detail from afar.” 

“In what way?” Yunjin prods, “Like how I’m treating you now?” 

“Calling you to update. Prying whenever you can.” 

“I”m only doing that because I’m worried.” 

“Worried about me lying.” You tense. 

“I never made that accusation.” 

“Yet the implication says otherwise.” 

Yunjin stops, sits up, prompts you to continue: “Every time you call is on a random day or every other hour. I don’t need you hovering the dial button because you think I’m gonna do something stupid.” 

“I’m only worried because-” she hangs her mouth open, losing the words on her tongue. “I just- want you to-” She stares down at her half-full cup of coffee. “Not make the same mistakes Rachel did to me, that’s all. That’s why I’m a bit on edge with you at times.” 

Karina picks up her empty plate. “I’m just gonna go-” 

“You’re fine, Karina.” Yunjin says, eyes full of life, relieved. “I was just about to head out, too.” 

“We just got here.” You say. 

“Already?” Karina asks. 

“I’ll save it for a proper conversation,” Yunjin tells the both of you. 

“Why save it when you can just let it out right here?” Karina suggests, smirking. To that, Yunjin chuckles, fixing her scarf. 

“Don’t get all cocky because I let you off the hook,” says Yunjin. “You want to do good for us? Make the right choices.” 

–

You and Yunjin share a hug outside the cafè, Karina watching with her arms folded. 

“I”m sorry, Jen. I should’ve said something sooner-” 

Yunjin puts a hand up, “You idiot, saying it now won’t save the damage.” She then awkwardly pats your shoulder, fixes your messy hair after. “Look, I just want what’s best for you. Plus, you’re well off with things lined up in your horizon, so keep it that way. Call me back, or don’t. I can’t make that decision for you.” 

Before you could utter a response, Yunjin had already walked back to her car, pulling away from the curb and blending into the traffic. Once she’s out of sight, your posture dips and the depression washes over you. “What in the fuck am I doing?” 

“Self-lament isn’t what she said to me about you, by the way. Lighten up.” Karina helps you straighten out, rubbing your arm for warmth. “She already planned on leaving when we got here.” 

“Why would she even-” 

“Everything she wanted to say was already said,” Karina answers. “For both of us.” 

“What about the convo back in the apartment?” 

“My answer matters more than her question.” 

“What did you say?” You ask, a hint of worry building in your bones. 

Karina hugs you from behind, softly laughing. “What’s important is solely on you.” She says that like it’s the reality - even in the back of your mind you believe it to be true - with her voice smooth as silk and hands cradling your head. You melt into her, sinking. “Don’t be so hard on yourself, we’re fine. Really, we are.” 

“I know-” you sputter, “I just feel like shit about this whole situation.” 

“You shouldn’t. If anything, that only piques my interest even more.” Karina grins. “Comparing your family to mine, my sister’s got her own shit to deal with and my step sister is a different story. That’s why I turned down going home for the weekend.” 

“Does that mean you’re working?” You then wonder. Karina grasps your hands, sniffing your neck. 

“Pain and people are a terrible combination.” She sighs. “But it pays the bills. Big bills.” 

An idea sparks in your brain, “Let’s go somewhere.” 

“What happened to eating?” 

“I eat here way too many times with Irene,” you say. “Plus I’ve been meaning to run errands.” 

“On that note, I never told you that I can make a meal.” 

Karina’s face lights up, eyes perked in excitement. “Dinner’s still on the cards, yes?” 

“You never said you were a chef.” 

“Until now.” Karina notes. “A good chicken dish, too.” 

Your arms drop. “I still need a few things.” 

“Fine. The station is up ahead here and we can just grab the other things spontaneously at the convenience store if needed.” She says as she takes your hand, leading you on this adventure. “Sound okay?” 

“Yes.” 

–

(You wonder. Of all the possibilities. The way she has your hand in her pocket - kissing your hand without a care prior - like she only saw you and the rest of the world faded from her view. Batting those lashes which makes yours mirror the same effect. 

When she holds you close in the cramped subway car, you can’t help but laugh into her sweater. 

Maybe you do settle with the best parts of Karina, and you desperately want it to stay.) 

–

Here’s another thing you learn about her: she’s not one to waste time. 

She grabs whatever she needs and doesn’t float around wandering. Only looking at the assorted wine choices for a minute before checking out. A pack of chicken breast and a few vegetables in a shopping bag. 

You hail a taxi outside and play a game of footsies in the car, stifling a laugh while the driver looks in his rearview and Karina’s pinching her neck when the noise gets too antsy. She whispers to you how normalized misery is among people, because they’re deprived of an aspect they’re longing for. 

Thankfully for the driver’s case, it was only a two-stop back to the apartment. Karina’s got her arm locked with yours and you can’t shake the delight in your bones, heart beating madly like it’s about to burst. You stare up at her while opening the door, sensing the luxury of what coming home with someone feels right at this moment. 

You’re quick to get back inside and turn on the heater. Karina sets down the shopping bag and shrugs her coat off to the chair nearby. She’s assessing the lay of the land, opening cupboards for ingredients within reach. You stop in your tracks and watch her get comfortable. As if she’s been around for a long time. 

“A grilled chicken dish,” you breathe, smiling. “How healthy.” 

“My specialty,” Karina says, placing a bowl in front of her. “Mom used to make it all the time. Probably the only thing I know how to cook and cook it well.” 

“The ‘ol reliable,” you’re cackling. “Yunjin and I would make egg fried rice even if we didn’t crave it specifically.” 

“Fried rice trumps all,” agrees Karina. She sets the two pieces of chicken breast on the wooden  board, testing the pointed edge of the knife, beginning to slice evenly cut slices. “I also noticed, you have a bottle of Petit Manseng just sitting in your fridge?” 

“Gift from a coworker,” you supply. “A going away present when she moved overseas.” 

“There’s a difference between a decent wine and high-end wine.” Karina tells you, placing two glasses and pouting a small amount in both of them. “Trust me, I would know.” 

You coo, swirl the wine in the cup. Clink the glasses together. “To homemade cuisine.” 

“Not bad for a last minute dinner.” Karina says, sipping. The two of you taste the sweet burn of the beverage. You watch as she turns around and tends to the sizzling pot. A thought bubbles in your mind, but you finish off the drink to drown any slimmer of optimism. 

It’s nice, to be honest. How easy living like this could be. The sight of Karina making herself at home - your home. 

You then stand and approach Karina, leaning into her with slithering arms wrapped to her waist, cheek to shoulder. In compliment, she leans back slightly, nuzzling her head with yours. The both of you want the branding of affection to stay on your skin. 

“Food’s almost done,” she tells you, hushed. Forehead to yours and breathing you in. “Go back, babe.” 

You’re pulling away, unable to fight the gravity in your feet, drifting further and further. 

–

Karina sets down the fork on the plate after finishing her spoonful of grilled teriyaki chicken, watching you scrunch your nose at the food melting in your mouth. See? Told ya it was good.” 

You move your head side to side, humming gleefully. “I have so much respect,” you say, tapping your middle and thumb fingertips over the dish, “For you to cook an easy meal.” 

“I never said I was a bad cook,” replies Karina. 

“I didn’t imply that you were,” you retort. 

Out of nowhere, Karina lunges forward and presses you into the cushions, making you laugh uncontrollably. Her hand ghosts over your chest, pinching your middle, and you take a heaving breath while stuttering a warning about the coffee table, but that wasn’t the problem at all. “Karina! No, please!” 

“Why not?” She asks, cradling your jaw. “I thought you were a touchy person.” 

“Around friends!”

“So I’m not your friend.” Ouch. You could see the hidden wince warp on her face. 

“Never said that.” You say. “These are serious allegations, mind you.” 

“Too bad,” Karina tells you, her leg between yours and sinking down on top. “You won’t be able to argue soon.” 

“Don’t!” And that’s the last word you say before Karina’s bombardment of fingers takes over your body. You try to resist with all your might, but it’s hopeless. She relishes in your laugh almost teetering into a cry; when she finally thinks you have enough, she nuzzles her nose into your neck, gently kissing it. 

“Had enough yet?” asks Karina. You don’t give her an answer. 

More fingers join the fray. “Okay! Okay! Karina, stop-” 

“Such an actress,” she huffs, resting her hands on your hips and grants you a few seconds to breathe. When that’s done, you cling onto Karina, nose hovering above your ear canal, sighing like the hurricane of anxiousness becomes no more. 

“Hey,” she starts, “How does a movie sound?” 

“What’d you have in mind?” You then ask. “We can see what they’re streaming.” 

“I was thinking something cozy, melancholic.” 

“Like a romance?” 

“Maybe a sad romance.” 

“Good god,” you chuckle. “I never thought you’d be one to cry over dramatized things.” 

“If they’re done well,” Karina explains. She blinks twice before registering your dull expression. “I’m being serious.” 

“‘If they’re done well,” you repeat. “It would have to be something that takes me by surprise, like something completely unexpected.” 

“Oh, you’re that kind of genre enjoyer.” Karina says dryly. 

“Blame my ex for shifting my perspective,” you dart back defensively. “If anything, it’s her fault.” 

“I guess fuck her too, then,” she agrees in relent. “Don’t blame me if you’re sobbing a puddle by the end of it.” 

“That depends,” you say as she goes through the catalog: Love, Rosie, Me before You, My Oxford Year. Karina goes with the third choice. “What about that old debate about books being better than the movies?” 

Karina leans back as the movie starts on the screen. “Subjective, depending on what you watch.” You snort, trying your best to hide your laugh. All she does next to you is shake her head in disappointment and keep her eyes on the TV as you eventually come back down to watch. 

–

Way later, Karina hands a box of tissues at you because you cried while huddling the armrest of the couch, reaching for the glass of water she got earlier during the movie before finishing it completely. “Sorry,” she says. “They called me in for an early shift tomorrow. I’ll have to leave soon.” 

You have the urge to plead her not to go, scream it at the top of your lungs. Though, you say nothing in the end and watch as she gathers her things, wrapping the burberry scarf around her neck as she stands by the door. She then opens the door - letting the chill in, and she shields you, hugging you close. 

Karina moves a wisp of hair off your face, her shimmering eyes in all its glory for you to see. You still don’t want her to leave. “I’ll be off in the afternoon, most likely,” she announces. “You’re not busy by then, right?” 

You nod, coughing at the air curling your legs. “Yeah.” 

Her thumb grazes your temple, and she dips down to kiss you; a small hint of soy sauce still left on her lips. You get a head of yourself, pushing your head forward, but she sees this and stops the attempt. A soft smile is given as an apology and you pull away. Karina chuckles and pinches your ear cuff. 

“I’ll see you again,” she tells you, kissing soon after. 

“Okay,” you sigh. 

When she closes the door, you don’t move at all. Torn between running out to get her or staying inside. 

–

Right after the break, the guest speaker comes to campus. 

You’re on your way out from the lecture hall when someone calls the name a little too loudly. It's only the next two or three times that the same person is running closer towards you like some crazed super-fan. “Hey! You got a second?” 

“Miyeon. Hi.” You greet, muting a chuckle. 

“Almost thought you didn’t show up,” she says. “You’ve been pretty much non-existent since midterms.” 

“You mean to tell me you’re still mentally stable after our exams?” 

“Oh, of course not,” Miyeon answers with her trademark cheeriness. “I slept for a third of the talk anyway.” 

Your face warps, from genuine confusion to puffed cheeks into a fast cackle. Miyeon scratches her head before you could collect yourself. “I worked closely with her during my volunteer hours.” 

“The lecturer?” 

“Mrs. Ningning Yizuho, yes.” 

“How did you-” 

“Close connection with another colleague.” Miyeon provides a shrug. “She’s very intimidating. I can still bring you two together!" 

“Sure,” you casually agree. “Lead the way.” 

Miyeon enters back into the room and walks towards the pit, seeing a refined brunette in a white quarter-zip speaking with another professor from the department. She calls her name, getting her attention, eyes widening in disbelief. “Miyeon Cho? Oh my goodness.” 

“Indeed it is,” beams Miyeon, acknowledging the other professor’s presence while they step away to give you three some space. “Lovely lesson, by the way. It was amazing.”

“Glad to hear that!” Ningning says back. “I hope you’ve been doing well since our time together?” 

“Splendidly,” Miyeon says. 

“Hopefully your internship with Ms. Song is going well, too.” 

“I’m working on my overall assessment on the given assignment. On top of that, I help in some of the various courses throughout the department. Which reminds me-” Miyeon motions you forward. “I’d like to introduce you to my good friend in one of the lectures.” 

“Pleasure to meet you,” you say, presenting the niceties with an extended hand. “I’ve heard a lot of good things about your work.” 

Ningning’s features are emboldened in close proximity. Her dark, auburn hair in waves highlighted with a gentle blush on her cheeks. Her eyes are similar to another individual, sharp and sheltering intelligence. It’s oddly uncanny. Yet you settle on the fact that she would’ve owned the runway if she didn’t have a PhD. 

“Your name sounds very familiar,” Ningning tells you. “And you said she’s-” 

“One of the top standout students in the grad program,” Miyeon butts in. 

“I see-” Suddenly, Ningning’s eyes spark. Filled with knowledge and realization. “Ah- yes. Yes! I know. Wow!” 

“Yes?” You ask puzzledly. 

“Why didn’t I see it before?!” Ningning exclaims. “Are you acquainted with Karina?” 

“Karina?” The dots in your head start to connect instantly. Ningning. Karina’s family member. The stepsister she mentioned a while back. It was in the freaking family photo next to the dresser. Her and Karina sitting in the front row of the portrait. 

“Oh.” Your mouth forms the utterance. 

“That’s amazing!” Ningning’s voice pitches higher in excitement. “Wow!” 

“May I ask,” Miyeon waves her hands between you two. “Who is Karina, exactly?” 

“My stepsister,” Ningning replies, gaze full of delight. “We both work in the medical profession together.” 

“Karina’s-” your voice hangs for a second. “-talked-” 

“She was with me very recently,” answers Ningning. “Brought up psychology, but didn’t tell me about the institution you were learning at.” 

“Yeah,” you breathe. “I assume the info was need to know.” 

“Well, we most certainly found out,” Ningning smirks. “Regarding your field of study-” 

“It’s psychology with an emphasized focus on kids in an educational setting.” You say, presenting Miyeon in the flip of the plus one. “Miyeon’s been helping me get connections along with my project later in the spring.” 

Miyeon nods her head willingly, a bit thrown off since she just explained your story already. 

“Connections,” Ningning says pensively. “Good thing Ms. Cho here was sweet enough for me to get acquainted with you. Finally, at least.” 

“Better to start now than later,” you smile.

“Karina did tell me that your assignments have been-” Ningning smiles back with higher brows. “-tough, to say the least.” 

You bob your head, taking the truth to heart. “That’s weird,” Miyeon then says. “I’ve only met Ms. Jimin once through Ms. Yiz, but how do you know her? That's my question.” 

Miyeon sees your flashed look, thinking of the mixed aroma of calamari and steak intertwined with decent wine. The night where you’ve got money in your pocket from a complete stranger, and you’ve got no way to explain much like Karina’s demeanor. 

Ningning, sweeps the question her way. “A great girl like her,” she says to you, “Has been the best thing about Karina’s life so far.” 

You let the compliment sink into your mind, swirled with the deep thoughts of dread. As much as you wanted to move, you couldn’t. In Ningning’s words and how she presented it, all of it is drained out in seconds. The ‘great’ tidings she bore, diminished to nothing less than a simple goal of one’s ego. 

It hadn’t even been a week: Karina being in your space, holding you so dearly with her eyes and hands like you’re someone she’s been searching for all her life. All of it made you forget that it was just your head - running the false play as if it were legitimate, and real. 

So full of stupidity, and pride. Shameful. 

“Does anyone else know?” Miyeon bumps your arm, nervously pulling her lips. It doesn’t register in your ears in the deafening white noise. “That you’re getting back into dating again?” 

Karina and you weren’t dating. It stings to admit reality. Mourning what you had. Karina said you were a prize. Not a lover. Just someone to be intimate and get the edge off with. 

“It was nice to meet you,” you say to Ningning, returning your false mask to light. “I’d love to connect with you some other time, really.” 

“Right,” says Ninging, dejected, or so you think. Considering how she grabbed your hands and hooked on to the cuff of your coat. Highlighting some sort of interest there. Maybe Karina told her about you, the things you two did together. Maybe she wanted to have her fun as well. “My info is reachable from your professors. If you need anything, call me.” 

You bow to her and Miyeon, motioning to leave. The linoleum turns into concrete until it meets the asphalt before you even look up. Clutching your phone with a shaking hand while you’re reeling from what just occurred. 

A tear falls on your cheek, then on the other while wiping. You feel like the things you’ve worked towards this were ripped away from you entirely. It probably has. 

Oh, how wrong you were, of everything. 

–

Your phone’s been set to ‘do not disturb’ for the time being. 

Normally, it would be brushed off like it’s nobody’s business - except that she’ll make it her regardless. Some check in with a worry like a ‘you’re okay, right?’ or ‘what happened?” while others are stupid moreso of ‘can I speak some shit about the same idiot at work today?’ 

Simply put: you’ve got no intention to contact Karina, at least for a little while. 

It’s partly your fault - failing to get Karina out of your head. Your productivity tanked and so did the effectiveness, both at work and at school, Miyeon can vouch for that especially. Meals get skipped, which could be doubled down on the depression. The effect of Karina being a key part in your daily routine has shown. You don’t even remember how you were before seeing her. 

Along the line, someone will send their flowers in recognition. Commending you for being as headstrong as you are, impressed to keep your life private as it is. Wonyoung begs to differ, since she’s also the kind of person to not stop until she has what she needs: 

“I am sick and tired of blowing up your phone!” You hear her yell down the hallway, bursting down the door like some FBI agent. It’s nine o’clock on a Saturday and she’s here on her usual antics which you’ve grown to be used to. “Look at me and stop drooping on your goddamn laptop!” 

Your face isn’t fazed. “Who said I was drooping?” 

“The same girl whose phone is practically unreachable,” Wonyoung snaps, tossing her handbag on the vanity and turning on the lights. “Irene and Wendy had to message me about you not showing up to class, meaning you’ve been cooped up here for God knows how long. Also, I had no knowledge of-” She sits prettily and swivels the chair back to you, all priss and royal-like, “-on top of the fact you’ve been moping and hiding. You’re on my personal shitlist.” 

“So what,” you mutter. “I stand by my actions.” 

“You’re also taking action by coming with us.” Wonyoung huffs as she stands and shuffles to the closet. Rummaging through your clothes until she picks out a violet shaded dress, bought by Karina. You look away in regret. 

“I’ve made it my goal, to get you outside,” says Wonyoung. “Yujin’s downstairs and I’ve got a few more faces coming over to meet us on the west side. Whether you like it or not, you’re getting out.” 

“No chance,” you tell her, knees to chin. 

“I think so.” 

“Try me.

“C’mon, why the ‘f’ not?

“Wonyoung,” you say with shut eyelids. “I- I just can’t.” 

“Aw wah,” Wonyoung coaxes, “And I don’t give two shits.” 

“Well fuck you,” you snap, flailing your arms in frustration. “I’m not in the mood. Not for drinking or going to the lower west side-” 

“Karina lives around there, doesn’t she?”

“That’s not the issue.” 

“So how am I gonna fucking convince you to go otherwise?!” Wonyoung raises her voice, exhausted. She picks up the dress and looks at it herself in the mirror. “I’m not leaving until you change your mind. And if you’re gonna be a bitch about it, I still don’t give three shits. You’re better off doing something to keep busy rather than hide here with your soft feelings for the foreseeable future. You fucking loser baby.” 

“Excuse me, rich bitch,” you clap back, agitated. “Maybe that’s just what I want to do with myself. Instead of taking my answer the first time, you couldn’t help but spew bullshit about messing with dating for the fun of it, and now I’m in this ordeal because of you, Wony. Don’t ever tell me you ever give a shit because I would’ve been better off alone than actually belong to someone who ever gave an ounce of care.” 

Wonyoung’s expression stays unchanged: prim and refined how it always appears. “Do you feel better now?” 

“I’m pissed,” you answer. “I’m always pissed.” 

“Which is okay,” she coaxes, corralling you into a hug and hiding in her shoulder. “You have me here as an outlet. Even when some of the things you yell about slightly concern me.” 

“This is all on me,” you tell her. “I’m sorry, Wonyoung.” 

“You are right though.” 

“The most you did was tell me about the app in the first place. It’s the whole reason why we’re at this point tonight. Now that I’ve realized what I really am to her.” 

Wonyoung pats your shoulder. “Sex is essential,” she chuckles, “I don’t need to tell you about my attachment issues with Yujin- or, my assorted toy collection. I’m still sensitive about letting you borrow my dildos.” 

You gasp, playfully freeing yourself from Wonyoung’s grasp. Her eyes light up when you smile. “Now, am I leaving you here or are you finally coming with us?” 

(A moment of pause, seeing the dress at the foot of the bed. You’ve tried it before, know where the spots shine with glitter and the curves are defined the most. How Karina’s jaw was on the floor in the fitting room and booked it to the stall. It pains to think about it, but Wonyoung’s point stands: you can’t do anything while staying in solitude, so it’s worth getting out.) 

Wonyoung’s brows lift high when she sees you grab the dress. “Get my makeup box,” you instruct her, and she’s kissing your forehead in elation. 

–

Yujin rolls down the window outside on the street, hailing you over with a hand raised. “Jesus fuck, girl. Do you wanna bet if you’re getting laid tonight?” 

“Uhm, Yujin- let’s not-” 

“Yujin, save the manners when we’re actually at the bars,” Wonyoung says while settling into the seat. “Plus the name alone is a trigger warning so take it easy.” 

“That bad, huh?” Yujin’s eyes darts to the rear view. “Say no more. We’re gonna have so much fun today, I’m super stoked.” Soon she pulls out into the street, wheeling down while you’re gripping the arm rest a lot tighter than usual. 

“For the love of God, please don’t get pulled over like last time,” Wonyoung tells Yujin, grinning when she sees your eyes bulge in nervousness. 

–

Luckily, on a late Saturday night, the traffic is pretty bearable if the drive’s less than twenty minutes. It’s a karaoke session in the front of the car while you're gazing up to the city lights, mixing them with the stars above, unwilling to gaze down and see the area you’ve learned very recently. Right before you could even close your eyes and breathe for a second, Yujin’s parked along the street and shuts off the engine. 

You’ve seen most of the clubs around this part of town, nothing surprising or stand-offish from most of them. Once past the bouncer, the ambiance of the place is speakeasy, and cozy. Broken by the occasional strobe lights and with the bass from the subwoofer’s past 110%. Wonyoung keeps you close through the crowd until the place breaks off into an elevated portion with private booths, a table with guests sitting on both slides. 

Irene peeks out and notices you three, sliding out and jogging towards you to say hi. Your face and hers go soft while you envelop her in a long overdue hug. 

“Do you get more beautiful every time I see you?” Irene asks, looking down while you’ve got the dress at the ends. “How is that even possible?!” 

“I should ask the same to you,” you yell back, the music way more louder with the roar of the audience. 

“Everyone else is here, look!” 

You follow Irene to the table, slotting back to the open spot where she’s next to a pretty woman with a wavy wolf cut, who you immediately pick out in excitement: “Seulgi!”

“Sup,” Seulgi greets back. “Good to see you.” 

“You and Irene, huh?” You nudge your friend’s elbow. “Happy to see it happen?” 

“Where’s yours?” 

“Don’t worry about it,” you say, noticing a drink sliding across the table. “Still serving me off the clock are we?” 

“I’m not responsible for what happens to you this time.” Seulgi tells you as she presents the beverage. You acknowledge her warning and take the offer. Suddenly a voice gets Yujin’s attention: 

“Wonyoung! Hey!” 

The whole group looks over and sees four people filling in, two stunning women in the front, one guy in the back and a third girl in the middle. When they approach closer, her hair is a bright silver contrasting the all black fit. She waves when her eyes set on the group. 

She gets bombarded by Wonyoung’s hug. Wonyoung failed to hide her exclaiming because she was just really happy to see her. “You’re finally here, Winter!!” She then takes her hands and slither into the booth, glancing over to you, and faintly smirking. “Meet my sister’s coworker, Winter!” 

“Hi,” greets Winter, shaking your hand. She turns her head over and motions her finger for their friend’s attention. “Meet Somi, and that’s Jiwon.” 

“Pleasure,” you say, bowing your head.

“I’ve heard quite a bit from Wonyoung,” Winter continues, moving her shoulders closer to you. “A few times she comes over to see her sister’s shoots.” 

“She cherishes me too much.” 

“Exactly,” chuckles Winter. “An angel living among us. You really fostered pets while rooming with Wonyoung?” 

“One of the many things,” you remark, hand to the back of your head. “She didn’t complain, either.” 

“Are you just naturally kind-hearted?” 

“I’m flattered?” You say in shock while Somi and Jiwon sit on the opposite end. There’s a sense of uneasiness when Winter accidentally brushes your shoulder. 

“Anything else I should know that Wony has told me yet?” She then asks, leaning her head back with narrowed eyes. “If you’re willing to share.” 

“That depends,” you say. “What are you willing to know?” 

“Beats me,” answers Winter, adding: “What about grad school?” 

“Psychology,” you tell her for one. “I work at the library on campus while interning at the department. You didn’t know the last part there, right?” 

“Until now,” Winter says, cup in her hand. 

“What about you?” You ask, mirroring the same action as her and drinking the seltzer as an appetizer. “You work with Wony’s sister?” 

“I”m in the same modeling agency as her,” she says, scratching her neck. “So we’re in the office a good chunk of the week.” 

“And Wonyoung drops by every now and then?” 

Her lips twitch, hushing her chuckle. Winter undo’s her quarter zip halfway, setting her arm on the table. “You’re very impressionable, I like that.” 

“Thanks?” You say, face warm and legs pressed together tightly. Maybe all of this was a bad idea. “I-” 

“We can save the formalities later,” she says slyly, closing the proximity. “We both came here to have fun tonight, yeah?” 

–

In your natural compass, disregarding all morals between right and wrong: you do have fun in the end. 

Two mega glasses of the club’s finest brew is enough to get you over the edge. A bonus with the jello shots that’re too many to count. Winter eases into it as you’re quite the opposite. To let loose from a hard day’s work is enough to suffice, yeah? 

On the dance floor and near the stage is where you somehow find yourself in, bouncing between groups. Wonyoung and Yujin the first, then Irene and Seulgi the next. Both duos are dragging - pushing you back and forth, to the point where you make Irene squeal and drown each other beneath the light. 

This is enough to save you through the night. 

What’s more is that Winter gets on the floor as well, moving with the music. Seulgi spots this and tugs your arm to her direction, where you eventually fall into her arms, hands resting on shoulders. Her mouth is close, a little too close for your liking, but you’ll allow it. She gets closer. It’s damning how the look on her face appears to be one she had for thirty years - albeit thirty minutes in reality. 

“Why don’t we get out of here?” She leans in, her trademark flash of teeth short-circuiting your brain. 

“Maybe.” Your eyelids fall slowly. “What do you have to prove?” 

“What you want to prove to Wonyoung.” 

Probably the easiest thing to do, because of the alcohol, is give in. Nodding along with her lips dangerously next to yours. 

–

There’s quite a lot you give into. Winter’s got her hand wrapped at your neck while the other’s in your pants, curling a finger inside your cunt. Lips caressing the curve of your jaw and it’s really all incessantly fucked up: sleepy smiled and relishing in the blush across your cheeks. You’re pretty sure someone at the street will notice the alleyway, but who would ever look in the club’s primetime hours in the first place? 

“Has anyone ever said-” Winter kisses you when the moan slips out. “How beautiful you are?” 

You whimper at her sliding thumb on your lips, nail pressing on the flesh and one of her few patchwork tattoos. “Not really,” gasping when her ring finger joins the fray. “I rarely get compliments like that nowadays.” 

“A shame,” she says, sliding her arm under your back, nibbling on your chest. “I wouldn’t let that happen.” 

Here’s a backhanded compliment morphed into an observation for you: you’re a fucking dumbass, a hypocrite even. Despising what you preached only to be powerless at your new silver-haired ‘friend’ doing the Devil’s tempting work. You should’ve known better from babbling nonsense where Winter figured out which spots you liked best, how you wanted to be held, where her teeth graze and her fingers pinch. A complete opposite to the Winter you met over an hour ago, since this one likes to see you worked up and needy. 

You slip out of your dress some more, give more space to breathe - let Winter shove her hand in your panties. She giggles at the subtle flinch of your belly button. “Do you wanna keep going?” Winter asks, sinking down. See how your face warbles in delight. “I can give you everything.” 

Randomly, almost on impulse, your eyes refocus on what's happening, panicking as you push Winter down onto the floor. You cover yourself as the wind blows in. “I’m sorry, Winter.” 

“Wait-” 

“I just can’t.” 

You walk away and refuse to look back, fighting back tears. The next thing you do is get in your contact list and scroll down the names, tapping on one with the first ring not even going all the way through: “Hey, what’s wrong?” 

“I need to see you,” you shakily say to Karina, extending a hand out for a taxi. “It’s urgent.” 

“Okay, but are you sure? You sound on edge.” 

“I just-” you stutter, teeth chattering from the chill. “I just need to get out of here, please.” 

“Can you wait? I’ll come down-”

“No, don’t.” You say. “I’ll do it myself.” 

“Honey-” The name pierces your ear, and you end the call. 

–

The cab ride over to Karina’s is a little over ten minutes. An extra minute or so when putting the fee for the mileage, stumbling out of the car soon after. Then there’s also the small tweak of your ankle because of the ridiculously high heels. That bob-cut hotel employee is surprised to see you at this hour, but she lets you in with a confused look on her face. 

You get on the elevator, end at the floor Karina’s apartment is on, trip and stumble in the hallway, and get to her door with a few fast knocks. “I know you’re in there, please!” 

Right on cue, Karina opens it from the other side. Your heart palpitates at the sight of her, her brown locks flowing, in her night gown and slightly on edge. She lets you in before your emotions could, watching you storm inside. “What happened? I could’ve picked you up-” 

“Ugh, I don’t know,” you huff, tossing your jacket off and struggling to get out of those annoying heels. Karina ghosts her hands but you refuse with a tensed noise, disheartened. 

“What did you do?” She says in assessment. “You smell like alcohol.” 

“I was with Wony. We went out.” 

“Did something happen?” 

“I got plastered.” You tell her, and Karina’s eyes blink sorrowfully. It presses you that she has a worry to you, wincing at the groan rumbling in your chest. Why should she care? If at all? 

“I have clothes for you. Do you need anything?” 

You don’t say anything but stare at her. Karina breathes deeply, annoyed. “It’s hard to read you like this, honey. I’ll be honest.” 

“Shut up.” 

“Hm?” Karina sees you fed up, fists balled. “Enough with- the names. I don’t want your money or your gifts. I- I don’t want the fucking money anymore. You don’t even care. I’m sick, sick and tired of all of it.” 

“Okay, hang on,” she says back. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. I do care.” Her face shifts to something hurt. “Can you explain to me what the fuck happened earlier?” 

“Stop fucking asking me!” You scream. “I’m fed up with this bullshit between us.” 

“What are you even talking about? What the fuck is wrong with you?” 

“What’s wrong-” you spit, grinding teeth. “-is I’m done being your little play thing- your sugar baby, okay?!”

“The fuck?”

“You heard me. I don’t want you to be my sugar mommy. Why? Are you hurt when I say it? Because I feel like shit when I do.” Your breathing becomes irregular, anxious, and you keep going: “And I’m done. I’m done. I’m done. I’m fucking done.” 

Karina’s face folds into disgust. “Done? What do you even mean you’re done?” 

“I’m done with everything,” you say with your hands up. “I- I’m fed up with just- being okay with you, coming over to my house, fuck, and then give me money after like that’s totally fine. Honestly, I thought it was okay. That it didn’t hurt to not think about it, but then I started to really think and- hoped something would shift. That didn’t happen tonight and that really makes me shitty.” 

“Sweetie,” Karina coos, fingers on hips. You cringe again. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” 

“Of course you don’t,” you grit, lip quivering to a smirk. “Get this: I met someone earlier tonight. Someone who made me feel deserved and full.” Karina’s face crosses her arms, brow arched to say she’s not buying what you’re selling. How her expression goes cold, moments before a serial killer goes for the killing blow. 

“What did you do?” She asks you, calmly. 

“I let her touch me-” then you choke, because the guilt finally bursts past the truth: “Kiss me in the alley outside the clubhouse but I-” your words start to tumble out with jittering hands. “I just couldn’t. She wanted to take me home and I pushed her away. Only because I thought of you, Karina. I think of you- and these feelings, my heart and even-” 

“You mean to tell me you screwed me with another girl!?” Karina cries. “What good does that mean for me if it also fucking hurts!?” 

“I didn’t know any better! We were never serious! I’m fed up with you treating me like this for your own benefit!” 

“My god- I told you multiple fucking times! About how I felt about all of that. I wanted what was best- that’s why you’re with me and not freaking Giselle!” 

That hits you right on the nail. You fucking idiot. 

Your mouth forms an ‘o’, shredded from anger and heartbreak. Most of the stupidity is clouded from your lack of judgement. “I, I-” 

It dawns, hardly. She gave her point straightaway that time, when she sat at the bar. The money wasn’t even supposed to be a proxy - a clarification in a simple misunderstanding. She’d never treated you in what you hated so- No. Never. Karina cradles you in her eyes delicately. 

Yes, she’s blinded by rage, but holds your face dearly. There’s nothing more you’d rather do and drop down to her feet and recite a penance for your sins. “I didn’t mean it, Karina. I- I just wanted to be happy and not feel like shit all the time-” 

She swoops you in, muffling your wailing sobs. It’s only for a few minutes of calming down then Karina decides to lull over your mistakes, figure out where you finally stand in her mind. What would happen now that she’s finally seen you reduced to nothing. Nothing. 

To which she says: “You’re really something.” And laughs. You’ve never sobered up so quickly. Despite being still hurt. 

“What’s that supposed to-” and she shuts you up. 

With a smoothened brush of her thumb on your cheek and a kiss. 

–

It escalates slightly a few minutes later, your back against the wall and Karina’s sweltering mouth attacking you - on all fronts. 

“Don’t-” you stutter between pecks, tugging at her nightgown. A sharp inhale from the nibbles. “You fucking, little-” 

“Not so little,” Karina grins, pinning your wrists. “What do you want, baby?” 

“To touch me,” you gasp. 

Karina’s hands tend to the zipper behind, and her clothes pool at the floor. Each touch her fingertips make is electric, siphoning every exhale in the slightest graze. 

“Is this good?” she asks, breath hot over the layer above your heart. Your foot slides up the wall, bending. Arching at her low moans into your skin. “I can tell you want more.” 

“Nothing more, just you.” 

Karina’s lips lick another inch of your neck, sighing lowly. “Tell me again.” 

“I just want you.” 

She grabs you quickly and shoves you on the bed, with no chance to fight back. Gripping her hips as she presses your waist down. Her heat spreads over to you, unbridled and blossoming. Karina’s hand glides up your thigh when she breaks the kiss, sighing a silken promise left unspoken. “You drive me crazy.” 

“That’s just my charm,” you stare while she ganders down: a trail of kisses from your sternum, then ur middle, until the tip of her tongue flicks your belly button - pushes your legs apart. “Karina, Karina-” 

Karina quivers her mouth, hesitating. “Lower?” Seeing your eyes squinched shut, tensing. 

“Fuck- just do it already-” 

“Mhm-” 

“Don’t fucking stop,” you order, and Karina doesn’t. 

You breathe in, relieved. Laughing at the newfound sensation of her lips tending to your cunt - turning into a small strain, then groaning. You claw Karina’s scalp, guide her to where you need it most. The only thing you knew how to do, besides berating yourself: was holding her head and the sheets; let your body tremble through the quick high of your release, bucking at her touch, until you’ve felt whole and less of nothing. 

Karina, showing she never made her point wrong, coaxes you through. Taking you gleefully in her mouth for as long as you could hold it. Once she’s had her fill, she climbs up, collapses on you, bask in the afterglow and fading tension built within you two. 

Her fingertips trace your chin, and she still has that same look from that night in the bar: stoic eyes but filled with sympathetic curiosity. 

“I was scared of you,” she hushes, sleepily. “Of something terrible happening.” 

You bump her nose, tap the little beauty mark just beneath her mouth. “Are you still afraid?” Karina chuckles and nuzzles her face to your stomach. 

“Not anymore.” 

–

You’re the first to wake up in the morning. Quick to realize Karina wasn’t next to you, jolting a sense of panic. On cue, she walks out the bathroom and sinks to her knees, levels with you at the edge of the bed. She grasps your knee - as a sign of anxiousness, because she can’t afford to relax, not even for a second. 

“How’s your head?” She asks first, gently tapping your thigh. Watch you try to keep yourself calm the best you can, though that only lasts for less than a minute. 

“Ka- I’m just- fuck, about what I said- what I did. All of it was just me being stressed and I didn’t mean to fuck up our relationship. I was freaking out since Yunjin- and not only her-” Your words jumble together, to a point when Karina shushes and reminds you to breathe. It’s ok. One thing at a time. I need you to relax and take it slowly, please. 

“Me being pissed at you is one thing,” she says, “Trying to figure out your episode is another. And I think there’s one common point between this.” 

“I’m such an idiot.” Way to apologize without saying it, girl. 

Karina knows you don’t mean it. “It’s because of what we talked about that night.” 

“Yeah.” 

“Even when I held an olive branch for your situation, which explains the money.” 

“Now that I think about it, yeah. That also explains why I got with you after-” 

“Because I was interested.” 

“After the Astoria, when we had dinner, you-” 

“You don’t just throw out five grand to a girl without having a legitimate reason,” you laugh, because it’s still genuinely insane. “Did it ever occur to you how ridiculous of an investment that is?” 

“Your situation,” says Karina. “Like I said, I was in your shoes before.” 

“That’s a bit deranged, too. No?” 

“I don’t think so.” Her hand stops at the crease of your knee. Shifting her thumb and index to rest below your jaw. “If it were for anyone else, then yes.” 

“Wow.” You ball your fists, nervously. “Seriously, what the fuck-” 

“About last night, in the alleyway.” Karina’s face goes cross, “When you-” 

“I swear to you, she didn’t do anything more than what she did,” you plead. “Yes, it was in the moment, and with the alcohol. Then I fucked up and stopped before things got worse.” 

“You would’ve been in a lot more shit if you escalated it,” she deadpans, face flat. “Someone could’ve died that night.” 

“I didn’t mean to,” you say while grabbing both hands. “Please, on my life.” 

“It’s okay. You made it up to me last night, anyway.” 

Now realizing how sore you were, that’s one part in your brain you’d hope to remember. “But that’s not the point, either-” 

“If Kim Minjeong-” 

“Karina, how?” 

“She called you. I answered and told her to never come near you again. Worse comes to worse, there would’ve been a crime scene already.” 

“Wow, you didn’t have to go that far.” 

“You’re one to talk.”

Oof. Karina. 

That sets a nerve off, and right when you’re about to yell your mouth off, Karina clings onto you. Arms moving up your back, holding you there. “I- I realize now after a few days. How much you really mean to me. I love you.”

You sigh her name, so much it comes out in a ‘damsel in distress’ tone. “I’ll say it again: I love you. For a while. I believe it to be true.” 

“Karina-” 

“I even dabbled the idea of you moving in with me to my roommate Ryujin!” 

She stops her train of thought when you stare up at her, look down at her chest, prompting her to press her lips to your crown. Let her hold your face with such earnestness and she catches the mumbling wisps- 

“You what?” 

“I said,” you inhale, preparing: “I love you.” 

Karina rolls her eyes, “Oh, I know that. Why don’t you punch me again as you say it.” 

As much as the offer is tempting, you remain still. Melt into her embrace. Let the rest of the world fade into obscurity- until you hear: “I’ll still be able to take your hand in marriage?” 

You say nothing. “What?” Karina continues. “We both said we loved each other, did we not?” 

“Skipped the whole ‘getting down on one knee and the ring’ part.” 

“It’s verbally put in existence by me.” 

“We both have different interpretations, Karina.” You sigh. “We haven’t learned at all. Plus, marriage isn’t in my plans as of now.”

“So when?” 

“We’ll know when we get there.” 

“Guess we’ll do this,” Karina lifts you up on her arms, making you smile widely as she hoists you against the wall. Grinning like an idiot. Kisses you like an offering from the heavens. “You’re just gonna have to deal with me until then.” 

-

a/n: been a min... thank you for the support as always. to readers/followers old and new, i appreciate you <3

“God, thank you, daddy, fuck, that was—” You shut her up with a long, passionate kiss on her lips, humming from your actions as you stay lodged inside her snugness, and it was euphoric as she thought it would be.

“You did amazing, princess.” Your words emanate that familiar pink blush on her cheeks, and that alone made you feel butterflies and genuine love rather than just entirely being horny.

It’s the best of both worlds, and the day is just getting started.

It was barely the end of noon time and you felt like you were here for a whole day—maybe hours of sex, making out and talking with Ahyeon equates into defining the flow of time. Even with the snugness of her velvety walls hugging you tight, you don’t consider pulling out yet and continue kissing her, peppering her collarbones and her neck where she’s more sensitive, earning moans of approval out of her as she urges for more. Eventually, you pull yourself out of her filled cunt, letting the sight of the achievement you’ve done be etched in your brain for eons to come. You marvel with the mess she has been on the bed, her sinful, toned body laid down and used and your cum leaking out is just perfection, not to mention her tight top that was ruined with how rough the both of you eventually became.

“Did I do too much, princess? You good?” Your questions begs an answer out of her lips, seeking thoughtfulness in the midst of evident roughness that unfolded just minutes ago.

“No, I’m fine, daddy—wanted it like that. Wanted you to give me a birthday creampie, even if it’s pretty late.” Ahyeon laughs through her apparent exasperation, clinging onto your arms to pull you into another passionate kiss which you are eager to reciprocate. You respond pretty hungrily, tongues dancing whenever they get the chance as you eventually pull out again, wanting to start the day onto something productive.

“Wanna help you clean up and get us some food, princess? What’d you think?” She has never nodded so fast before, eager to do such aftercare after you’ve wrecked her sinful hole.

“Gotta help me in the shower, daddy…”

“I will, princess. Don’t worry.”

---

You always love doing this, even with Asa or them together—nothing beats taking a shower with them, even though what might happen will equate to something filthy or wholesome.

“Did you text Asa, daddy? Is she going to come?”

“Not yet, princess.” You soap her back, and her toned, slim waist as you stare at her doe eyes. “Can’t do that when you’ve rode me and wanted to have sex with me right after you’ve blown me.”

Ahyeon pouts and chuckles right after, that beaming smile emanating her positivity despite the tease underlying beneath it. “Aw, but you loved it, right, daddy?”

You kiss Ahyeon’s forehead, tucking her hair behind her ear as you stare at her eyes continuously with sincerity as your intention, and no one can break that away from you. “Always, princess—always loved doing that to you. Glad your legs are still working.”

She snuggles her head onto your chest as you can feel her vibrations from her giggles all throughout, then staring up at you with her own genuine intent, mutually like yours. “Would always love to workout and be sturdy for you, daddy.”

She soaps your back with a loofa as you do the same on hers, but with your hands. The running, warm water slightly elevates the experience and lures in a mood where you think she’ll be feeling too. It was inevitable to begin with, not when she’s intentionally finding her hands onto your half-erect shaft and her gestures hinting to rile you up. 

The mutual insatiability and sincerity is healthy, and you love it.

“Still can’t get enough? Please, princess—I don’t think I can do this anymore.” You groan right after, reading you like a book as she insists on the first move and you’re not complaining. She strokes you into hardness, her dexterous fingers doing their best as you groan between every stroke, Ahyeon smiling in satisfaction right from the way you reply to her actions.

“Missed you so much, daddy—guess multiple weeks of not meeting you is just hard for me.”

Your hand finds her soaped waist, cupping it as you pull her towards you a little closer, letting your cock nestle between the divot of her thighs, near her dripping pussylips. “It was tough for me too, princess—been so busy and stuff.”

You understand how down bad you’ve made her and the feelings are mutual. Even though you feel like you can't do this anymore, Ahyeon is the pill that keeps you going and that alone fuels you to do more. “Right now, I am here, princess, and I won’t leave you alone.” You pull her in a tight embrace, feeling her hot body snuggle up yours only lures you to deepen the hug, kissing her shoulder as you do so. “I have the whole week to spend with you. No stress or anything—just you and me.”

Ahyeon curls up that genuine smile of love to you, and that has you swooning even with the suggestive actions she’s doing to you. “It would be fun if Asa’s gonna be here, daddy.”

“Which I would love to spend this whole week too—not let’s clean up for real and I’ll call her, okay?”

“Okay, daddy.” Ahyeon nods as she continues to clean herself in front of you, pushing away from her pussy grinding on your hard shaft, as you clean yourself swiftly too.

You’ll be thoroughly looking forward to how this day will go down, much more about how this week unfolds.

---

You let Ahyeon prepare herself with what she does best, maybe surprise yourself with an outfit that turns you on, another makeup combination that riles you up or anything. Meanwhile, you wouldn’t waste your time just watching some reels and doomscrolling, or looking outside the balcony but calling in Asa on the phone.

“You still doing something?” You look back and look at the door where Ahyeon is inside, then avert your attention towards the phone call. “Ahyeon wants you to join her.”

“Not really, baby. Where are the both of you at, though?” Asa’s cheerful tone is evident even behind the phone, looking forward to what you may say right after.

“At my place. Ahyeon was you here, to join us on some—you know, like the usual whenever we’re together.”

“Hah...” Asa chuckles through the phone, knowing what you’re talking about as it piques her interest immediately. “I’d love that always—besides, I am really curious on how Ahyeon has been doing too as soon as she saw you. I pretty much miss her…”

You smile through the phone, finding their friendship cute and can’t wait to tell everything that has happened to the both of you towards Asa. “Oh, you don’t need to tell that, Asa. We did a lot for her birthday and even now—wait, are you outside? Asa…”

You can hear Asa’s audible gasp as she laughs right after. “It was just the TV—go on, continue, please.”

“I mean like, yeah… Tons of blowjobs, princess rode me twice and I came on her face once and in her cunt, finally.”

“Mhm…” Asa is still hooked for what you may say further, teasing you with her unimpressed tone. “What more did you do to her? Finally came inside her, huh?”

“Pretty much, that’s how I’ll summarize everything, haha. Yeah, I mean, she always wants to swallow my cum most of the time or paint it all over her body but since it’s her birthday, it would be great to give her that privilege.”

“God, I can imagine how hot Ahyeon is whenever you’re fucking her good and cumming inside her—she really earned it, I guess. Isn’t it right, babe?”

“Yeah, she did. Even a better girl at behaving than you are, Asa.” Your remarks earns that hiss on the phone from Asa, a little angry from your banter as the spice in her voice is evident.

“Yah! I’ve always been a good girl for you! I will always comply with you and everything!”

“Maybe forty percent of the time. Fifty tops—you know what, you should hurry if you’re going to come. I’ll treat you both to somewhere nice and we’ll do our time together with Ahyeon, alright?”

“Okay, okay…” You can hear the silverware clashing as she prepares herself, ready to come to your place as soon as possible. “See you, babe—love you.”

“Love you too.” And there she hangs up, and the exhilaration within you starts to creep up again, knowing Asa’s going to join the both of you in this monstrosity. Suddenly, when you’re sightseeing in the balcony and metropolis down below, Ahyeon’s voice calls you in the distance as you turn around and see such a hot girl from earlier who is this simple yet endearingly pretty.

“Daddy, do you like it?”

It’s simple, the typical school uniform-esque outfit where she looks splendid of course, undeniably charismatic where it dives down to being hot. There’s just something in the way she delivers what she wears that exudes confidence and compliments her figure well, and that element alone strikes something in you and further makes you fall down your knees for her (mostly in this part, she’s head over heels for you but the feelings are mutual).

“Of course, princess—everything you wear always looks good on you. Are we going to the university or something?” You tease Ahyeon for the umpteenth time, knowing that the semestral break is far from over and knowing that she specifically knows what turns you on.

Yes, the tie invites something special in you, most likely the culprit for a great choking side dish on your main course. Even the short skirt she wears right now alone, perfectly accentuating how well her legs look and her delicious thighs peeking out for you to drool on.

She is basically the epitome of perfection, but then you think that Asa can challenge that.

You anticipate what she will wear but right now, you should spend the next hours somewhere else that is outside of your place. 

“So, we’re going out? We’re not just gonna stay here with Asa, daddy?”

“Well, I figured out that I should treat my princesses to some great food and some quality time, no?” You come closer to Ahyeon, grasping her soft hand as you stare at her eyes. “Besides, this week would be a great time to be free from the stress we’ll eventually meet later.”

“Fair point, daddy—that’s so thoughtful and so sweet of you! Thank you so much…” Ahyeon hugs you tightly, head resting against your chest as she looks up at you, feeling shy from her sudden actions which you reassure her with a chuckle.

“Don’t be shy, Ahyeonie—this is only fair, you know? Now, let’s get ourselves ready—wait, I should be the one doing that…” The sudden realization hits you, as Ahyeon faintly giggles from that slight mishap of yours.

“Go ahead, daddy—I’ll be waiting.”

This whole day won’t just dissolve into just some filthy sex even with Asa coming over—after all, you have the whole week with the two to spend with and to cherish each and every moment, no matter how wholesome or filthy it can be.

---

You’re brushing your teeth now as Ahyeon calls you, stopping herself from doomscrolling on her phone and asking the question: “Aren’t we gonna wait for Asa, daddy?”

You spit towards the sink, gargling some water as you reply to her with a slight of murmur. “We are, princess—she texted me that she’s going to be here in a minute or two.”

Ahyeon gasps, a little excited from your reply. “Oh? Finally she’s going to be here!”

She fixes herself, comb her hair a little while she does miniature retouches on her makeup as you finish brushing your teeth, gargling some warm water to ease up your feeling. Suddenly as you’re gargling, the doorbell rings loudly, so you spit the water into the sink quickly as you rush towards the door, opening to see the girl you’ve been waiting for (also Ahyeon).

“Babe! Oh, I missed you!” Asa pulls you towards her frame, her lithe figure is pretty surprising in terms of her strength as she hugs you tightly, feeling her warmth finally after weeks and weeks of being away.

“Missed you too, Asa—was this the perfume I gifted you on Christmas?”

“Yeah, it is, babe. Really love the sweet scent of it…” Asa eventually pulls out of your embrace as a familiar girl appears in the distance of Asa’s eyes as it lits up from that sight.

“Ahyeon-ah! You’re here!” The gleaming smile of Asa permeates around the vicinity as she’s happy to see the younger girl and one of her closest friends. “Guess the both of you are waiting for me, hm?”

“Yes, we are, babe—but first, do you wanna drink some water or what? Seems like going towards here was a bit tiring, no?”

Asa scoffs as she reassures you, alternating her attention towards the both of you. “Oh, I don’t need it though but thanks. My friend fetched me all the way here, glad she had some time herself.”

“Well, I’m glad my other princess isn’t too tired…” The name certainly makes Asa blush, an evident rosy hue all across her cheeks. Ahyeon slightly chuckles with your remark though, pretty much agreeing on the pet name you called Asa accurately.

“Come on in, babe—I’ll get other stuff ready and then we’ll get in my car, alright?” Asa nods right after, as she comes in and frantically seizes her hands to hold Ahyeon’s, feeling that sense of comfort.

“You know, I really think the both of you talked your outfits through—you look great though, Asa.”

“Oh thanks, babe.” Asa plants her hand in front of her mouth, a little modest when chuckling and being flustered by your compliments as she averts her attention towards Ahyeon. “Do you think this looks great, Ahyeon-ah?”

“Oh, it does look good on you! Always love the way you style yourself, Asa.” Ahyeon’s a bit shy with her compliments towards the older girl, as you find yourself agreeing because it’s just factual at this point—you always love the way Asa styles herself, a true fashion icon in your eyes. While you swoon over the sight of Asa’s perfect figure and such a great yet simple outfit, you finalize yourself with a few touches and cleaning near the sink, letting the girls wait for you.

“I guess having authority in the university is challenging, no? Still feeling stressed lately, Asa?”

“I mean yeah, a little—” Asa’s gripping the headboard of the couch a little tight, as she vents out some little frustration at her end. “—and they also want me to go higher and be their secretary at the student council? I’m sorry but I can’t really live with that as if the schoolworks weren’t enough to fuck me up—glad this break was necessary.”

“Well, I know someone that can fuck you up…” Ahyeon teases Asa, as the older girl paints that shocked face and Ahyeon in return, just laughs in response.

“Oh my goodness—babe, she’s been too bold ever since the both of you are alone for just a day? Wow, look at you, Ahyeonie~”

You clean and dry your face and arms with a towel, now pretty much ready to go as you further strengthen Asa’s claims. “You don’t need to tell me that, babe—she’s been pretty confident and brave ever since she fulfilled her birthday wish.”

Asa and you chuckles as Ahyeon blushes harder from the words thrown at her. It wasn’t seen as something degrading, but uplifting as Ahyeon is finally becoming bold with you, and even Asa. Not going to lie, seeing this side of Ahyeon more frequently than before is refreshing, and it’s the best in both worlds.

“Bet it felt good, right, Ahyeon-ah?”

“It does…” Ahyeon doesn’t deny it and wears it proudly as it's evident from her face, Asa smirking from how Ahyeon portrays how great it felt, even in the slightest.

“Ok, I’m done, ladies. You girls can just wait in the car. I'll just check on something here, alright?” Their conversations got hindered by you as they rushed towards the car, seeing them off to the distance and their slight dorkiness in their bodies which made you chuckle a little.

You sigh and curl up a smile, excited on how this week may unfold. “Love these girls…”

You really do, and you hope they stay being this lively, easygoing, happy and of course, hot.

That’s pretty explanatory, and you need to rush yourself too because the time is ticking, and it’s ticking fast.

---

They’re loud, funny and pretty suggestive—you’re holding the steering wheel for dear life just to get your attention averted towards the road, refraining from distracting yourself from Asa and Ahyeon’s antics, let alone their subtle actions that attract invitation.

“Babe, I swear—the freshmen in the university are more chill than what I ever thought. Maybe the stress of being in authority burns me out but at least I’m making friends, right?” Asa asks you about her slight doubts, consulting you as her eyes are eager, anticipating your answer.

In all honesty, you’re not the best when it comes to giving advice generally but you came to grow as a better person yourself ever since you’ve been tangled up in the polyamorous relationship between Asa and Ahyeon. Your mind state becomes healthier and you come to realize that wisdom comes with experience, being grateful for the little things and becoming socially exposed too with the help of the two really made you who you are today.

“Yeah, baby—as long as the friends you’re making are on the good side, then it’s great!” You multitask between looking at the tracker and swerving over slightly slower cars on the highway, Asa’s voice averting your attention towards her. “Besides, I think you guys will get along well because of how brainrotten these people can be.”

“We’re not brainrotted though, daddy—we just happen to be influenced by what we see on the Internet.” Ahyeon makes a great point, pouting as she chuckles from your remarks. 

“Don’t act like you’re not in the loop of these things, babe. Besides, they seem like great people to hang out with.” 

“I mean, I’m eventually gonna see these things, babe. Also, probably they are pretty fun to hang with—can’t really think of anything else other than the two of you.” Your smoothness makes them blush and you can just sense it, Asa eliciting an audible ‘wow’ from your flirtatious transition.

You can feel Asa’s habits coming to play yet again, with her hand on your thighs as she talks about how you’re getting smoother with the way you flirt. “I see you, babe—really pulling that, hm?”

“Can’t help it when I’m surrounded by two gorgeous girls.” It is in its utmost truth, and even if it’s most described as another flirtatious attempt, it will be working and truly factual. 

“Are we still far away from there, daddy?” Ahyeon leans over to ask you, her eyes focused on you as her patience is running thin, and so is Asa’s, agreeing to Ahyeon’s question.

“Ladies, you can literally see it on the tracker here.” You don’t know if this is intentional just to pluck something in you but you mostly don’t really care, yet for sure, they’re just asking that for validation and to tease you.

“Sometimes, the GPS is pretty inaccurate, babe, y’know?” Asa’s hands find your shoulder, patting on it, then looking at you in an oddly nonchalant manner. “Gotta need to know it from you.”

You roll your eyes knowing the fact that you’re going to comply with their antics yet again. There’s no reason to reject it as it will just further put gasoline to the fire—you should get used to just going to the flow with your two lovely brats.

“We’re near there, like ten minutes tops—just relax yourselves, alright? The both of you will love this.” And they do, not without smiles painting their faces as you sigh deeply, mouthing yourself the words. “I just can't with these girls…”

Definitely you can’t, but you can’t resist them for their grip on you (figuratively and literally) is unparalleled, and that’s the beauty of this relationship.

----

Everything went as planned in your head, letting them eat some of their favorite foods, treating them to some bubble milk tea and even letting them earn some stuffed toys in the arcade. This is seriously one of the monumental moments in your life since it’s like once in a blue moon to hang out with the three of you together, and this moment of wholesomeness and romance is at an all-time high. 

Yet, the lingering feeling of temptation seeps in because you can’t think straight when both of them are in such great outfits that compliments their figure and those short skirts—it genuinely makes your head dent in the right places, an Achilles’ heel to be exact.

They know what they’re doing and the underlying poison is already taking place.

Here’s maybe how the story goes: let’s just skip to the part where the filthiness starts because it was inevitable in the first place.

The older girl is clever, as her senses are overwhelmed and has this inkling of that familiar feeling within you—she senses how much you wanted her so much you couldn’t contain it anymore once the three of you are alone together yet again.

How could you not feel something so familiar when Asa’s hands are stroking your rock-hard cock, teasing the tip as you distract yourself from focusing on the road ahead.

“I swear to god, babe—I’m gonna crash this car if you keep doing that.” Asa doesn’t seem to budge, not even the slightest. Her tongue envelops the sensitive muscle, flickering against it as the voice of Ahyeon reverberates around your ear, in awe and enabling Asa even more—it doesn’t help you in the slightest but you’re now trapped here, unable to do anything but avert your attention towards driving safely.

“If w-we get pulled over, it’s your damn fault, Asa.”

“At least they get to see how to give head properly.” She continues slurping all over your length, the dark blur down below a mere distraction as you double your efforts on driving safely. 

You just hope to god you’re near at your place but it isn’t, and there’s no sugarcoating that. Not to mention, you need to follow the tracker on the screen before the highway you’re familiar with, multitasking yourself and tanking one hell of a distraction that can put you in the gutter.

This is a blessing and curse and nothing around is helping you but yourself.

“No wonder why Ahyeon got addicted to sucking you off, babe—this cock is just delicious in every way.” Asa’s fingers come into play, the utmost stimulation of a new recruit in the battle inside your brain and your sanity. She continued her slow bobs, her immediate slurps and gags an audible sound to test you. You’d grow to adapt in these types of situations, her test a mere challenge at this point as your subtly shaking hands hand on the steering wheel tighter, your senses following the tracker with the best of your precision.

“Fucking hell, baby—slow down, please. I’m gonna crash this fucking car, I’m serious.” Thankfully, your pleas are answered, her pace slowing down a ton as she keeps her tongue busy around your sensitive length, and it doesn’t aid you to the very least.

“Swerving a little, hm, daddy? Asa must’ve been making you feel so good yet so miserable, right?” Fucking right, it’s downright in the abyss of despair and pleasure, wishing you can just pull over and let yourself feel the softness of Asa’s lips and hoe she makes you feel good.

You want to do that—no, you need to do that because you can’t bear driving for almost thirty minutes with Asa giving you a blowjob on the sunset.

You wouldn't tell her that though because telling her that would be digging your grave. Fighting the haywire in you, you gathered the mental capacity to find a spot where you can pull over and let the filthiness commence yet somehow, Asa senses this and pinches your thigh. 

“No, baby—pull over and that just proves how much you can’t handle me. You wanna make a show for our princess here, right?” You really do but now, she’s playing with your ego in the name of oral sex, and that enables something in you to prove yourself that you’ll always have the authority no matter what.

Fuck it, you will take her like a champ until the finish line.

You try and maintain your speed to an eighty to ninety, but it’s becoming challenging with further techniques up Asa’s sleeve, inconsistencies evident with the way your body reacts to her actions. You moan slightly, the pleasure running over you a chase towards the edge, feet getting messed up a little once she works her tongue onto your leaking slit repeatedly.

You might just want to be a pussy and do what’s right, because there’s no greater outcome here when the car insurance rings your phone constantly because of what may happen.

Asa averts her attention towards the tracker, then looks on your face, knowing something is up on you. “Changing routes, are we, hm, babe?”

For the past fourteen months, Asa grew enough to read you like a book, ultimately knowing when you’re at your lowest or when you’re desperate for something. At your end, it’s getting there because sometimes, she can be unpredictable and a great example is what unfolds right at this moment: Asa sloppily blowing you in the car while you’re driving at your utmost best while Ahyeon records everything.

The scene is depraved and you wish you could just close your eyes and savor every second but you can’t do that. Not when you’re on a highway, little-to-no traffic and desperate to find somewhere to stop and let her do her expertise.

“Pulling over to feel my mouth better, baby? Looks like I got you real fucking good.” It’s salacious and it’s perfect, downright abysmal as she plays with your cock to torture you, swerving a little in response as she keeps herself occupied

“Yeah—fucking brat can’t contain herself and wants to suck me off w-while—shit, I’m in a middle of the road driving. How can I even deny that?” You hiss at her, but those words fall deaf to her ears as she gives you head consistently in terms of quality and pleasure.

“I guess daddy will cum before he pulls over somewhere.” Ahyeon’s laughter comes right after, her sinister side enabling you and her teases primarily to edge you closer. How can you not? Not when Ahyeon’s honey voice tingles you as she says profanities and Asa’s really bad business on your shaft—it’s just absurd at this point, perfectly filthy.

Finally, some light sheds in the distance (figuratively), pretty much an indication on where you can stop and let Asa do her thing to the fullest, not worrying about crashing such a treasured car of yours.

“No, keep both hands on the steering wheel, babe—I will stop if you do that again.” Asa’s way of words just riles you up even more, letting yourself be focused and your hands gripping the wheel with a white knuckle.

A part of you dearly wants to do that and stop Asa and her blowjob right now, so you can still store everything and to come home as soon as possible without the concern of risks. But then, you don’t want to hinder her advances, not when she enabled you so much that you need to erupt in her mouth and the gratification you’re currently experiencing urges you to take everything and indulge in the pleasure.

An abrupt turn and just a few meters ahead, you accelerate faster than usual, sending Asa to do her wonders on you with more effort and Ahyeon’s remarks now including your dive into submission.

“Daddy’s really fucked up right now, oh my god.” Ahyeon looks over, still holding her phone and recording every obscene second and calling the older girl’s attention. “Asa, if you continue that, he may cum before even stopping.”

“That’s the point, Ahyeon-ah.” Asa eventually slows down her strokes on your cock, as that raises an eyebrow on you but is still focused on what you should do. “But then, a load on my mouth right here would be a waste.”

“What are you—” Asa is there to cut you off, groaning as she squeezes your cock for good measure, and averts her attention towards you, eyes focused and lips curling up a smirk. You’ve technically came a little, a drizzle evident onto your slit as you catch your breath due to the adrenaline she gave you.

“Sorry, babe—don’t get me wrong, I’d love to taste your load but not here.” Asa then leans over, whispering in your ear as you anticipate what words may come out of her mouth. “Would love it either inside or on us two when we get home.”

Diabolical. Gutted but you’re patient but you despise that.

“I fucking hate you, Asa—god, now what? Wasted time on finding a different route…”

Asa looks at you, pouting cutely as if nothing obscene happened like a few seconds ago. “Get us home, pretty please, babe?”

You roll your eyes as Asa helps you on dressing your mess of a bottom half, as Asa reassures, “Don’t worry, it will be fun when we get home.”

“It will be, daddy—like so much more fun.” Ahyeon seconds the motion, ultimately convincing you that what unfolds later will be up to your liking.

Maybe it was for the best, because right now, you’re fucked up beyond comparison.

Oh, how can these girls spiral you into an utter mess…

---

The familiar road now gives you a sigh of relief, as the girls keep their conversations hooked as you eavesdrop. When the final turn towards your place happens, they’re thrilled to be finally home and you’re just glad you didn’t crash the car onto somewhere and something—you’re probably not doing that again with a psychotically horny Asa next time, but then, you loved the thrill. 

Gone are the honorifics and the foreplay, because as soon as the three of you stepped in your place and Ahyeon locked the door shut, the magic happened.

“Have your way with her, daddy—would do something for the meantime…”

“Better come back, princess.” You remind her and Ahyeon nods, skedaddling out and minding her own business—you’d be interested in what she may introduce the both of you as she comes back, but for now, your attention is focused only for Asa.

“Missed me, babe?” You keep yourself attended, kissing her neck as she moans in response. “Oh you really fucking do—god, keep doing that, babe.”

You don’t need to talk when every movement elicits the very best of moans out of her mouth. You keep marking her, even licking as being depraved from a girl you yearn for reduces you into this animalistic stance, and you're hungry for her.

“Please, kiss me, baby—” So did you, cutting her out and letting your lips crash onto hers immediately. Hearing those words of need must equate onto something that lies within compliance, fulfilling what she needs as you deepen the kiss, tongues tangled.

Oh, let’s state the fact right now: you have no complaints nor qualms whenever making out with Ahyeon, but Asa is just in a different game. 

Asa finds your tongue with her lips, sucking on it as she bobs her head up and down right after, letting the sensation of her lips be savored by you. Your lips aren't idle though, kissing her all throughout this mess as you match her advances. Her tongue eventually finds yours, alternating within the bobs on your tongue and dancing the muscles in between as you moan all throughout, and her hums vocal against your mouth.

It was thirty seconds of such sight of need, showcasing how much the deprivation caused her to do and you love it. You never pulled out of the kiss, eagerly reciprocating whatever she does as you held her waist gently, then pinning her against the wall. You pull out eventually, depleted of oxygen and expressing how much you really did miss her. “God, I really fucking missed you, baby.”

Asa smiles as she looks up at you with that mischievous smirk, seductively turning you on as both your hands rest against her tiny waist. “Then why aren’t we fucking yet?”

“Because I need to taste you first.” It wasn’t long before you initiated another torrid kiss, yet this time, you bit on her lip a little rough but not enough to make a bruise, a little hiss coming from her mouth from the miniscule pain you’ve inflicted. It was all hot and sloppy, feeling each other’s drool and need on each passing second, now getting a little harsh with the way you act by pressing her midriff tighter as she does the same on the hem of your shirt. It was another thirty seconds of carnal kissing until you pull out of her lips’ embrace, ready to take what’s yours and to claim what you’ve been depraved off.

“Gonna eat your pussy.” You kneel down as Asa bites her lip, locking her eyes onto you as her hands stay idle on her hips. “Ahyeon would know how much of a slut you are whenever I eat you out.”

It is true, because whenever you take control and weaken her, she would eventually submit. “Then let her watch, after all, we’re going to be crazy until the sun rises.”

“Actual freak.” 

She is and so are you, and now, you’re diving into her cunt.

You pull down her panties and off to her ankles it goes, as your fingers swipe familiar strokes that makes her breath shudder and knees buckle. You always love teasing her like this because of how  sensitive she gets when you touch her like this. She bites her lip, eliciting the sultriest moans as you keep two digits in her tightness, feeling her wetness envelop your dexterous fingers.

“Hold your skirt for me please, babe.” She keeps it on her waist, hiked up as she shudders with the way you deal with her. Asa is in fucking need of your mouth on her dripping cunt, but then you’ll always have that one virtue in you, even in sex.

“Please—just f-fucking eat me already.”

“Patience, babe.” Your fingers keep that steady pace, moving consistently as you hear a thud on the wall, her head resting against it as she moans your name. “My mouth will devour this delicious cunt, okay?”

Your eyes find her vulnerable state, as Asa looks down and nodded, fully trusting you.

It’s just beautiful to see the girl earlier teasing you and challenging you in a near-accident inducing situation could be reduced to such a whimpering, needy mess—that image will always be in your head, especially when she’s ruined and yearning for you.

You tease her clit then plunge in and thrust your fingers, making sure she’s in that state where she’ll just crumble down but not enough. She keeps herself steady, and even with just your fingers, she’s almost reeling and giving in.

“It’s just your fingers, babe—oh my fucking god.” Asa is whimpering, wanton cries blessing your ears as she indulges with the pleasure. “It’s j-just your fucking fingers…”

“I’ll eat you out now, okay?”

Before diving in, you look onto the corner to see if Ahyeon’s there to watch yet there weren’t any signs of her presence just yet—you don’t mind it even when she’s secretly eavesdropping the filthiness that is currently taking place, you’d always love to provide a great show for your audience.

And so you did, tongue in her cunt and she convulses.

“Fuck, babe!” Asa screams, hissing as your tongue keeps her lower half in a challenge of sturdiness, possibly pliant as her knees shake. She’s already wet to the point that you definitely want to get up, turned her around and fuck her harshly, but then you’ll be a hypocrite. Discipline is within you still even such an insane sight, keeping yourself occupied with the way you eat her cunt and a man of your words.

“Please—eugh, p-please keep doing that.” She chokes on her own spit, moaning repeatedly as your tongue swipes onto her leaking slit, your other digit thrusting in her pussy. You test her limits even with just your mouth on her cunt and possibly, you can feel how much of a mess she’s making and how she’s nearing that epic high. 

You won’t even give Asa a respite, not even a second because she’s practically cumming on your fingers with how she’s forming rivulets of her nectar on it.

“Plea—I’m gonna cum, babe!” Asa’s gripping the hem of skirt with a vice grip, maybe even near tearing it as you keep her steady, hands grasping her moderately proportionate backside. You eat her with utmost will to make her climax, thrusting your tongue onto her walls as she lets out a carnal scream of pleasure.

Asa cums, and it’s beautiful.

She spurts onto your face as you keep fucking your tongue against her slit, repeatedly caressing her ass as you reassure her. Her climax possibly lasted for at least fifteen seconds, in which you took your time to devour her at utmost desire and it never had felt so good for the both of you.

“Messy.” You lick all over the vicinity of your lips, tasting her juices as you hum in delight, exchanging glances with her as she breathes heavily and recovering from her intense orgasm.

“Yes she is, daddy.” Out of nowhere, her familiar resonates around your ear and your attention towards the younger girl.

God, she managed to look more stunning and genuinely ruinable—a set of twintails, top tied on her back to expose that slutty, toned midriff of hers and little changes on her makeup.

This is literally heaven and hell, and the balance is always great.

“God, you ate me so good, babe.” Asa looks down at you, beads of sweat on her neck as she smiles with your filthy advances crumbling her down into submission despite standing still. “We would love to return the favor.”

“Badly, daddy.” Ahyeon finishes it, and so, the younger girl deftly goes towards you as you stand up and let Asa get herself back in her senses. Asa and yourself can’t take off both your eyes on Ahyeon when she’s looking like this sizzling hot and a snack—genuinely, Asa is on par with Ahyeon’s hotness or even exceeding hers yet there something with Ahyeon that has been putting your brain circuits in a haywire.

“You like my little improvement, daddy? Bet that dick of yours is so hard from eating Asa out.” Ahyeon knows and it’s true, because you’re leaking a little from your underwear after seeing Asa cream that hard onto your face. Of course, her former questions have the most obvious answer known to date: Yes, princess. You look stunning.

That earned a smile from her face as Asa wouldn’t fall behind and let your attention be solely focused on Ahyeon immediately, as she pulls out the weapon of mass destruction (let’s just visualize the fact of those tiny bombs in your brain whenever you see this bit of Asa).

She raised her brown top a little and unbuttoned the bottom-half of the white long sleeve underneath, averting your attention towards Asa as she seduces you with the way she strips herself even in the miniscule bit.

Both of them will be the death of you, that alone you swore to the heavens above.

“Relax, babe—we’re going to take care of you so good, right, princess?”

“Yes, Ahyeon-ah—we’ll make you cum so much, daddy~” That alone is the epitome of an invitation of filth and you’re lured in, head first (pun intended).

As bright as their smiles and their personalities are, so are their brains, clearly eager to undress you hastily. Ahyeon works on your belt as Asa works onto your zipper and your pants, tugging them down to allow them to be a step closer to their grand prize. They eventually see it, a familiar wet spot on your boxers as Asa’s finger teases the leaking tip, making you groan a little as the sight below is something you always love to see.

“You’re leaking already, babe? My cunt must’ve been too much for you…”

“Yeah, baby—it is.” Ahyeon now joins the fun, tugging onto the hem of your underwear as the older girl further teases you. “Now fucking blow me, you two, alright?”

“Patience, baby.” Of course, Asa made you swallow your own words against her awhile ago but you’re not complaining—pretty much that’s your dogma, even in these situations. You relish on the sight of them playing on your clothed crotch for a little while, your hands finding their dark-colored locks and caressing it. It wasn’t too long before they couldn't take it anymore and were eager to finish what Asa started an hour ago, alongside Ahyeon.

Asa tugs your boxers down, and they are met with their favorite monster yet again. There wasn't any cheeky foreplay to tell you to get ready or anything, because eventually you will brace yourself with two girls pleasuring you on their absolute power. They spit on your hardened shaft, letting their hand spread their drool all over your length as their tongues tease your slit, tasting your precum.

“Missed sucking your cock, babe.” Asa eventually takes over your sensitive tip impatiently, dancing her tongue all over the edge of the mushroom tip as Ahyeon cups your balls, feeling how full it must have been after all of the stimulation that happened. “You always leak so much—fucking love it.”

Asa dives in deeper, going almost halfway on your rod as Ahyeon averts her attention towards your globes, licking onto it as she squeezes on it gently which earns faint groans out of it. The sight down below is downright pornographic and the best it has ever been because it’s not like everyday two beautiful, hot girls get to blow you eagerly.

“Feels so full, daddy—can’t wait to drain them…” Ahyeon licks the base of your cock right after, fondling your balls as Asa further advances herself onto your length, bobbing her head up and down. Asa eventually finds your hand and directs it towards her dark locks, letting you caress it and tug even just to let you be comfortable.

“Would love to drain them, babe.” Asa bobs continuously, not before pulling out with saliva a mess on her mouth, her eyes in contact with yours. “But whose throat will receive it, do you think?”

“We’ll see.” That’s what you articulated, and you’re clearly anticipating how this unfolds further. In a relentless manner, Asa dances her tongue on your drool-sheathed tip, slurping on it as she teases every possible inch she can occupy, meanwhile Ahyeon just steadily strokes your base and keeps you in check. Asa isn’t really selfish even though she needs you as much as you need her, and let Ahyeon take the spotlight, now the  suckling onto your balls eagerly.

Now, the younger girl is taking your length halfway as Asa averts her attention towards your balls.

Ahyeon keeps her space moderate against your length, running her tongue against the familiar places she mapped earlier this morning, but not without little gags which she fights, determined to let you know that she can take a good cock like Asa. Here’s the problem and the harsh truth: Ahyeon is still nowhere near the lengths of how Asa can do it, but you’re eager to say that Ahyeon is a natural and learning fast.

Also, let’s not forget to mention those blowjob eyes in contact with yours whenever you look down, the best amongst the bunch and maybe that’s her advantage against Asa.

In all honesty, you shouldn’t really be comparing the two and just savor the work they’re doing all over you. You’re eventually in that trance, feeling their mouth and their hands pleasure you into no-return, amplifying the gratification you’re experiencing as both of your hands caress their hair and tug on it, a leverage to fight the pleasure.

“Fuck, it’s always so delicious, daddy—sucking your cock is so addicting, no wonder why Asa always gets to blow you every week when she gets the chance.” Her words surprised you and Asa, but Asa just hums on your balls as she playfully hits Ahyeon, the younger girl smiling throughout the mouthful of cock.

“You c-can’t blame me, Ahyeon—” She certainly won’t, because Ahyeon is devouring your cock like she can’t have it anymore, pushing more into her throat as her bobs becomes more consistently messy, drool seeping out of her mouth as Asa watches the younger girl act her needs. “—look at your fucking slobbering all over his cock like a needy slut.”

Ahyeon whimpers as Asa’s degrading words seem to click something in her, and all you can do is listen and watch it all unfold. Asa doesn’t just play with you, but also multitasks herself, finding Ahyeon’s clothed cunt already dripping and she teases her because of it.

“Already so wet just by sucking his cock—what a needy, cockhungry slut you are, Ahyeon.” Asa sets Ahyeon’s panties and lets her fingers pleasure the younger girl's snug cunt, letting Ahyeon moan over your sensitive head.

You can feel the vibrations all over your length as she moans with the pleasure inside her cunt, and Asa’s relentless with it, fingering Ahyeon and even going far as to threatening her if she doesn’t keep her pace on you. “He won’t fuck you if you pull out of that cock—keep sucking him off for me, Ahyeon.”

Ahyeon does, only withdrawing with the tip inside and almost taking you in entirety, and it’s an action repeated several times. Asa does her final finishing touches on your balls, leaving it slimed with her drool as she stands up and looks at you, inviting you into another torrid kiss. The both of you share the same intimacy minutes ago, tongues dancing and lips hungry for each other meanwhile Ahyeon advances herself onto your cock even more, and it’s sloppier than before.

Ahyeon slurps on your length, hungry for more as she tries to take you all in but her gag reflexes tests her and she’s taking you like a champ. She would eventually pull out, swirl her tongue all over you which makes you moan against Asa’s mouth, and the older girl smiles as you do.

“Love tasting yourself, babe?” Asa asks, her stare piercing through you as she anticipates an answer out of your lips.

“Pretty weird but… but it’s you, so I’ll let it slide.”

It’s totally peculiar, but Asa can take you to lengths unimaginable for she is insatiable and the one that can defy your limits in the leagues of sex. The both of you share a chuckle right after, indulging onto another ephemeral kiss before Ahyeon’s squelching noises distracts the both of you, and Asa clearly knows what to do to further test Ahyeon herself.

“Not gonna join our princess, baby?”

“Would love to, but…” Ahyeon pops out, looking at Asa’s finger tracing her cheeks, black trails of her mascara evident as she finds the back of Ahyeon’s head and caresses it. “...wouldn’t it be great to see our princess test how she can handle us both?”

Fuck, that’s a different side of Asa you love to see.

She always has this dynamic in her and you love the duality, especially when it’s people she’s extremely comfortable with. It just doesn’t end or limit herself onto just verbal and physical control or submission, but also external tangible items that can elevate the experience from both parties. Even with that, it seems like she’ll do it the old-fashioned way and you’d be here for a show as you nodded after her question.

“Open your mouth, princess. Then, just continue what you’re doing.” Oh yes, the pet names too, she does that to a certain extent. 

Asa’s hands tug Ahyeon’s head firmly, feeling Ahyeon bob and move with a moderate rhythm which Asa observes to be just right for a girl like her. Your hand finds Ahyeon’s dark locks and Asa’s tiny waist, until Asa herself stops you, wanting to do something which you are all ears with. “Your hands, babe. On your back, please.”

You do comply, not without another peck on her lips as you watch how Asa treats Ahyeon, letting her hand push Ahyeon further on your cock and lodging it all the way, without respite. The play of asphyxiation comes over Ahyeon’s senses, as she regulates her breath as time goes by, Asa not even hesitant to pull out and testing her limits.

Asa doesn’t care if Ahyeon gags or what because she’s in control, the utter dominance letting you marvel at the sight and moaning with the way Ahyeon is taking you all the way in. Asa keeps her firm grip on Ahyeon’s head as her lips meet the base of your cock, and that sight alone earns approval from the older girl. 

“Keep it all the way in, princess—god, you’re taking him so well.” Asa caresses Ahyeon’s hair, a cheerful tone emanating around the room as she commends Ahyeon.

“Keep staring at him—I know our daddy loves a beautiful girl staring at his eyes while she takes his cock like a needy slut.” The dynamic is evident, and Asa’s tone switches makes you throb—her dirty talks are immaculate, and that’s a given—and so is Ahyeon’s throat warming your cock.

“Which happens to be you, princess.” You’re going to fucking lose it.

Asa eventually pulls Ahyeon out of such a carnal deepthroating session, strings of saliva a mess on your cock and on Ahyeon’s chin, mouth and even her top. Ahyeon catches her breath and smiles at both of you, satisfied that she’s training to tame her gag reflex and the hotness of taking you all the way in.

“God, I-I—” Ahyeon is still catching her breath, all while you lift her chin up and place a finger on her mouth, feeling those soft lips and skin on your digits. Ahyeon sucks on it intimately, possibly making out on it as the lewd sight keeps the ambiance in such a hot mood.

“Speak up for him, princess—speak what you wanna say for our daddy.”

“T-that—that was r-really good. Fuck, I l-love it.”

“What do you love, princess?” Asa questions her, still not satisfied with a poorly articulated experience. 

“Love sucking daddy’s c-cock off, love the w-way you push me in—love the way it made me wet…” She isn’t lying, all are factual (not to boost your ego, she really loves your cock in her mouth now) and the both of you seem to have a glimpse of the aftermath of such a filthy experience.

“Baby, she’s so fucking wet, look at her.” You avert Asa’s attention over Ahyeon’s wet spot on the skirt and when the older girl helps her get up, she wants to feel and see it for herself.

“May I?” Asa asks and Ahyeon nods without hesitation, moaning against Asa as Ahyeon’s hands find Asa’s waist and shoulders, holding onto the older girl’s body as she fingers Ahyeon’s wet cunt.

“You are really soaked, princess—I think I know what she wants, babe.”

You raise an eyebrow, still resting against the wall semi-uncomfortably and grunting. “What is it? To fuck her cunt, I suppose?”

Asa smiles as she averts her attention towards the crumbling Ahyeon, who’s face is perfectly disheveled and gleaming that smile that signifies that you’re pretty much checking the boxes here. 

“Come on, Ahyeonie—say what you want him to do to you.”

Ahyeon eventually lets go of her embrace on Asa, as she bites her lip and musters up the courage to really tell you what she wants (maybe, in more detail). “Want you to fuck me silly, daddy.”

You eventually push out of the uncomfortable position you’re in, walking inches towards Ahyeon as you cup her cheek. “And what, princess? Gotta be more than that.”

“Once we get in the bedroom, daddy.” You nod as you respect Ahyeon’s ways of dirty talk, and so is Asa, and even agreeing to her as she’s wondering why the three of you are still in the hallway doing such filth.

Then, there weren’t any questions asked further as all the three of you went to the bedroom, preferably yours as Asa suggested.

---

Sure, not finishing on their throats is pretty criminal for all of the edging they did on this day because genuinely, you’re dying to cum to them.

Maybe this is a blessing in disguise, because right now, Ahyeon’s frame is just inches away from your touch. There wasn't anything to say further as you sat comfortably at your chair, letting Ahyeon straddle onto your laps as your shaft brushes against her clothed crotch. “Say it now, princess.”

“Want you to fuck me, daddy—right in my cunt, please…” Ahyeon is begging with how she looks at you, but Asa and you aren’t satisfied with her answer, because the both of you know she wants to say everything you want to do to her with no restrictions.

“Use your words, princess.” The older girl asks her, then finds her glistening cunt, teasing it as she pushes her frame closer to yours, your length leaking and messing up her skirt.

“W-want daddy to fuck me from behind, r-roughly…” Ahyeon grinds onto your cock, as you moan when she does so, encouraging her to continue her debauched words of needs with your hands caressing her shapely ass. 

“And?”

“And spank m-me harshly, pull my h-hair, kiss my body a-and—” Ahyeon is shivering as Asa tests her further, fingering her in a relentless pace as you hold her on her hips, letting her voice out what she wants further, in detail.

“And what, princess?”

“Cum in me—”

“What?” Asa pinches Asa’s shoulders as she paints that cocky smug on her, thinking that Ahyeon doesn’t deserve a load in her cunt another time, at least she hasn’t earned it (let’s add “yet” on your end). “I don’t think you haven’t earned that, princess.”

“Hey now, babe.” You glare onto Asa as the older girl pouts, then return your attention towards Ahyeon which you keep in check, legs still straddling you as you play with her tits against the fabric. “Princess, I want you to get up, bend over the bed and put your hands behind your back, is that clear for daddy?”

Ahyeon bites her lip, nodding as she follows. “Yes, daddy—want you in me so bad.”

Ahyeon hastily gets up and out of your embrace, Asa watching everything unfold as you follow Ahyeon right after.

“Guess she’s gonna take you well, no, babe?”

“We’ll see.” You chat with Asa for a little while, then marvel at the sight of Ahyeon’s perfect figure as every inch feels unreal. “After all, she rode me pretty good yesterday.”

That’s what Asa loves to hear—she caresses Ahyeon’s cheek for reassurance, because the both of them know what’s about to let loose.

“Don’t worry princess, he’ll start slow for you, okay?” Ahyeon nods as you line your throbbing cock onto her leaking slit, grasping her hips as a leverage and god, she’s beautiful whenever she’s vulnerable. Asa deftly finds some rope to tie against Ahyeon’s wrists, fulfilling what has to be done. 

“Too tight, princess?”

“No, it’s just right—please f-fuck me already…” Ahyeon is needy to the core, and there’s no second to waste because you’ve been wanting to invade her tight cunt and her flawless and ruined figure bent over serves as an invitation.

You stroke yourself a little while and then push into her and god, she feels immaculate, snug walls hugging every inch you insert sends a frenzy into you. Ahyeon whimpers uncontrollably as you pull out then tease her, even muffling her moans onto the mattress, and that alone paints a smile on your face. You didn’t really want to deprive her of any euphoria, so you eventually inserted your length inside her tightness yet again and produced a pace leisurely enough for her to get accustomed to you.

“You love daddy’s cock pummeling your pussy, princess?” Asa’s words make Ahyeon grunt, and as the younger girl is about to talk, she pulls her into a kiss, supporting her vulnerable frame with her strength, exchanging pecks and tasting each other so eagerly.

“Can taste his dick all over you, princess.”

Ahyeon gasps, painting such a lewd sight with how your cock piston against her cunt. “S-same thing—oh g-god, daddy’s so big!”

“Take her well for me, princess.” Ahyeon will do it, because she’s been built and trained to be treated as one and she’ll proudly show Asa that she can take you as well as her.

Plethora of honeyed moans fill the air and bless your ears, as you hold against her hips, ensuring a better pace to elevate the experience. You eventually command Ahyeon to lift her hips up and she does so, wanting to get rid of the piece of clothing that’s just becoming a nuisance at this point. The skirt in on the floor and utterly useless, and you didn’t care much because all you need is too wreak havoc in her pussy and let her know how much you love fucking her until incoherence.

Ahyeon’s wrists wrestle against the binds behind her back, forming fists and even more as your hands find the rope, pulling onto it as a leverage to test her. Her hands seem to magnetize onto your touch, feeling your touch with what she can do as the pace gets rougher, and are you, spanking her mounted-up backside, determined to mark what’s your red.

“God, this cunt—love fucking this cunt of yours.” Ahyeon can just muffle her moans and form bracing fists on every thrust that rocks her world, as Asa averts her attention towards you, who’s occupied with bliss and the tightness of Ahyeon’s heavenly pussy.

“How does it feel fucking her tight cunt, hm? Make you wanna cum again inside her? Let it leak on the sheets after you feel out, babe?” Jesus, Asa’s words really ignites something in you and on the bright side, she’s pretty much right, answering her own questions.

“Fuck yes—don’t worry, baby, I’ve been planning to cum inside your cunts today.” You groan as you speak your prophecy, caressing Ahyeon’s back against the clothing as your hips muster the same, harsh velocity.

“And Ahyeon’s going to get two loads? Sounds pretty unfair to me, babe.” Asa rolls her eyes as she diverts her attention towards the younger girl, pinching her ass with that rosy hue, and caressing it as she likes the debauched sight.

“Asa, babe—trust me, I’m filling you up—” Asa silences you with a torrid kiss, sloppy and measured exactly to be as long as you need to be. She pulls out, biting on your lip a little as she scans every inch of your face, painting that sincere smile of want and love.

“Of course you’ll fill me up, babe—” Asa then grasps Ahyeon’s tied wrist then runs her fingers onto the younger girl’s cheek, lifting her chin up and making that eye contact. “—but make sure you’re filling me up real good like what our princess will take…”

That you’ll promise, wholeheartedly.

Of course, you wanted to see more of Ahyeon and even with her immobile state, she tends to ease herself to show you more, Asa helping a lot as she unbuttons and lifts up the younger girl’s top, exposing that white bra and her slender back in full view. You knead her buttcheeks while they’re occupied, as Ahyeon’s plethora of needy moans advances to borderline screams every time it hits that right spot in her cunt.

“Daddy—f-fuck, I can’t h-hold much longer…” She can’t, and with her constant constrictions and her pussy getting tighter and wetter (you genuinely will need new bedsheets after you’re done with the two), it’s impossible not to tell that she isn’t close. You’re not going to punish her or anything and let herself ride it out, and Asa’s slutty mouth just makes Ahyeon’s brain go haywire, dirty talk doing wonders and altering her brain chemistry.

Her calls of your name, whimpers and the way she convulses invites you to even test against her limits, pistoning repeatedly onto the point of total domination and incoherence, and she welcomes each rough thrust against her tight pussy. You know Ahyeon can’t hold it for any longer than approximately fifteen seconds (that’s a rough estimate) so you need everything in your power overstimulate her in such a short amount of time—fingering her clit, teasing her rim, spanking her butt and even teasing her tits against the fabric.

Asa teases you, a devil talking behind your back as her words is enough for you to truly defile Ahyeon. “Fuck her up and make her cum—this sheets wouldn’t matter anymore when they’re full of Ahyeon’s juices, babe.”

Asa bites onto your ear and places kisses on your neck, her heels supporting her figure so she wouldn’t struggle and as she licks a specific spot, her words enable you onto something monstrous. “After you’ve filled her cunt, I’m riding the fuck out of you, babe.”

Ahyeon cums beautifully and you pull out to see your greatest creation, a deflowered mess as fountain of her juices meets your and sheets below (yep, you’re definitely buying new ones). 

You let her orgasm ride out, fingering her pussy as she moans when you do so, her sensitivity off the roof as you’re near to your own high thanks to such hot girls enabling you. Asa strokes your Ahyeon-sheathed cock as she pulls you in for a kiss, then wants to see for herself how it is done apart from her. “Cum inside her please, babe.”

“Please, d-daddy—cum i-inside me already…” Of course, Ahyeon begs for it as Asa bobs her head, signalling that you should ful(fill) what’s promised.

So, without any seconds to waste, you insert your length in her again and this time, you’re chasing you’re own high, spiralling towards madness and you bring onslaught of harsh thrusts against Ahyeon, and Asa is just eager to push on the edge as she always do.

“Is daddy c-close? Fuck—please cum in me again, daddy!” Even through a vulnerable state, Ahyeon manages to tilt her head up high just for you to hear what she truly needs. After all, her pussy is molded to the shape of your cock that you can’t manage to pull out and do anything stupid.

After all, she’s too fucking inviting to not pass out on that opportunity.

You erupt euphorically, plugging your entire length inside her cunt as Ahyeon cries in the pleasure and the warmth of your seed, every spurt being deposited inside her velvety walls. As illegal as it sounds, you need to marvel at your own filthy doing as you manage to just unbury your cock out of her pussy, the last spurts being painted on her ass. Ahyeon could only feel your hot cum and it feels criminal and lacking as she didn’t see how beautiful you came yet the trade off was great in all terms—a load inside her cunt is just the perfect way to end the session.

Asa reaches for your cock, groaning as she strokes you furiously, not giving a damn about how sensitive you are, wringing out every drop that you can deposit. “God, look at what you’ve done, babe.”

Asa marvels at the disheveled mess you made to Ahyeon and that sight alone makes her bite her lip, wanting you to do the same to her—freshly-fucked cunt dripping with your load, top an utter mess, her back drenched with sweat, and her ass painted with your load. The older girl pulls you into another kiss for the umpteenth time, as she manages to get herself occupied on such a filthy note.

“Recover a little, babe.” Asa pushes out of your lips’ embrace, and turns her attention towards the vulnerable girl down the bed, kneeling down and wanting to savor something for herself. “Gonna treat myself to some dessert.”

Ahyeon is getting the grasp of the situation and she elicits that sweet squeal of pleasure as Asa teases her pussylips with her fingers, also measuring the amount of cum dripping out and onto the sheets. “Wow, hope you’re not too drained yet, babe—you really filled her up.”

“Can’t help it—princess is so tight and such a good girl.” You commend Ahyeon on that, and that alone makes the younger girl chuckle and smile.

“Thank y-you, daddy—loved your warm load in my c-cunt—oh fuck, Asa…”

“You really are a greedy princess, are you, hm?” She fingers Ahyeon’s sore lips, scooping a sample of cum as it goes in her mouth, humming soundly as she feels satisfied. “Also, your cum always tastes so good.”

That flutters you, blushing as you keep yourself hooked onto the scene that’s currently unfolding: Asa easting out Ahyeon eagerly. Asa’s tongue swipes over the delicious lips of her cunt, earning moans and whimpers out of Ahyeon as she can’t control her hands, forming fists and possibly bruises for the eagerness to let go onto the knot of the rope. Ahyeon’s lips quiver with the pleasure of overstimulating her, honeyed moans turning into needy whimpers as she voices out how great Asa is eating her out.

These two have a great dynamic even when you’re out and being busy in the university, they would even find ways to hand out and fuck each other and you can see how talented Asa is—her mouth is a wonderful gift alongside her skillful, dexterous fingers.

Asa makes Ahyeon shudder, knees bending and legs kicking a little because of the pleasure she’s coursing through the younger girl’s veins, and that sight alone makes you smile and satisfied.

You stroke Asa’s luscious, black locks, feeling her bob in every second as you cherish her expertise, enabling her as much as she enabled you earlier.

“See how much cum is in there, baby? That’s going to be your cunt later and I know you’ll love it.” Of course, you know she’s always loved your load inside her, but this one feels special because it’s such a nice early birthday treat for her and because of such love that you’ve felt with her that just amplifies for each day you haven’t seen her.

This is just the perfect balance of total filth and genuine love with each other, and that’s the wonder of this polyamorous relationship.

Asa keeps slurping and eating Ahyeon out, lapping all of the cum that she can taste and with Asa herself being too horny to not feel you, she can’t take such deprivation and confessed what she’s feeling right now. Asa stands up and you untie Ahyeon’s binds, and finally, the younger girl can freely move herself and the first thing she does is to grab you by the shirt and stare at your eyes, genuinely thanking you for what you’ve given her on this day.

“Daddy, thank you so much for everything you’ve given me.” Ahyeon pecks your cheek as the both of you exchange laughs, Asa watching over and swooning over the beautiful sight of wholesomeness in the middle of such sinful filth. “Maybe it’s time for Asa’s load—she deserves one too.”

Damn right. After all, you’re dying to fill Asa up since this whole hellhole has let loose. Ever so subtly, the older girl grasps your wrists and slowly pins you down and onto the mattress, letting her frame straddle over you as she removes her heels in an instant and onto the floor, and so is her skirt.

“God, Asa’s really hot, daddy, isn’t she?” You nodded frantically, a rhetorical question at this point as every curve of Asa is perfection and of course, your attention averts towards the inviting piercing on her navel. You tease it as your hands approach her pussy, already glistening in wetness as she grinds you repeatedly.

“Gonna drain you so good, babe—fuck, can’t wait for this to get inside me, fuck.” If she promises that then she will because after all, her figure alone sends you into total hardness again and would gladly deposit every ounce left in your reservoir.

Asa doesn’t tease further, not because she can’t but because she won’t, and your inviting cock is the reason. She does what she’s best at, sinking in deep at your length as her hands press down on your chest for better support, a leverage for the gratifying feeling she’s already experiencing. Her head tilts down, as she bites her lip, every inch overwhelming her to a certain degree yet she fights it, grinding onto you and starting at a leisure pace. She gets herself accustomed to you, bouncing herself up and down as your hands find her hips, grasping on them and supporting her.

“Fuck—babe, you feel so fucking good!” Asa bites her lip as her wetness envelops you, the sounds of squelching and bodies clapping, writing a symphony in your ears. It’s purely melodic, not to mention with the way she moans, eargasmically divine and filthy—it’s just the best amalgamation of sounds a person can probably hear, and it’s turning you on a lot more.

“Fucking tight—always so tight for me, hm, baby?”

“God, yes! You c-can’t blame me, babe—argh, fuck!” Asa keeps slurring, cacophonous sounds ringing your ear as she elevates the pace, eager to deliver mutual amounts of pleasure. It’s just a monumental sight to see Asa’s frame bounce on your cock repeatedly, thighs and her abs flexing every time she does so but there’s one thing that is missing right at this moment.

Asa, as the clever girl she is, notices what’s the anomaly in this situation. “Guess you want to see my tits, no?”

Your hands roam on her slender waist, appreciating every inch as she smiles seductively when you do so, then roaming your hands onto her clothed tits, pulling her tie down to keep her close to you, “I always wanna see your tits, baby—strip for me, please.”

She obliges wholeheartedly, working on your cock as she undresses every fabric on her body that masks her beauty. Everything is flawless, like a well-orchestrated dance as she skillfully removes everything without stopping her body on your length, and that sight alone is seductive enough that it drives you crazy. It’s not like a hot girl like Asa rides you while stripping herself and putting on a show, so you’re grateful with what she can play with because in everything she is able to do, you’re marveling at it most of the time.

“God, Asa, baby—you look so fucking good.” Asa blushes with your compliment, her hands finding your shoulders as she leans down on your frame, initiating a kiss before you absolutely worship such perfection.

“You too, daddy—god y-your cock always feel so good.” Asa keeps her pace, directing your hand on her sizable tits as you fondle them, teasing those taut nipples which earned such beautiful moans out of her.

“Wish daddy could play with my tits like that…” Ahyeon’s faint voice bounces off in the distance, steadily watching the both of you as her fingers play with herself. It must be selfish to ignore her because your mind is clouded with Asa and her only at the moment but as you said, you’re never leaving Ahyeon behind despite the utmost attention Asa has garnered.

Asa continues to ride you as her hand roams around your chest, now averting her attention towards the lonely, needy Ahyeon at the distance. “Come here, princess—I can play with it if you want.”

Ahyeon’s eyes lightened up, piqued at Asa’s proposal as the younger girl finally got rid of such disheveled clothing, hastily going up and straddling at your abdomen, supporting her lithe frame as her ass rests at your torso. It feels illegal to not see the hot figure of Asa grinding on you, seeing how well her pussy hugs you but you wouldn’t complain—after all, there’s not much competition or anything similar, letting them do whatever they want to do because you love them and they needed it too as much as you needed them after all of these weeks.

You run your hands over Ahyeon’s slender, hourglass waist, her toned back flexing every time Asa plays with her is phenomenal, not to mention the moans Ahyeon orchestrates whenever Asa pinches her taut buds, her sensitivity off the roof. You're just imagining how great Asa would look bouncing on your cock at a moderate pace, closing your eyes as you savor every second of her tight cunt enveloping you. You did thrust upwards a little, your strength fighting their weight as Asa shakes with the magnitude of pleasure coursing in every inch of her body, Ahyeon making sure she’s experiencing the utmost elation, playing with her perfect;y-sized mounds as teasing the taut nipple with her fingers. 

You can just hear how sloppy they sound apart from the squelching of Asa’s pussy—their lips dancing around, pulling each other’s frame to a sloppy kiss as they battle each other with how their hands pleasure each other. It’s all a perfectly organized discord, their ebullient noises of gratification is making you throb even more and their bodies clashing to each other being a culprit on how pornographic the sight is.

This alone will be etched in your memory, and you fucking love every second of it.

You trace Ahyeon’s sweaty back, every inch of its perfection and up to the curve of her butt which you truly appreciate, earning more muffled moans out of the younger girl. They make out for at least a hot minute which you’re glad to be an audience for despite such an awkward view—either way, you can imagine it in your head and that will suffice.

Even with a certain degree of absolute mayhem between the two, Asa can’t hide the fact that she wants you for herself, being vocal about it as Ahyeon respects it, after all, you’ve had the younger girl for yesterday and earlier with a godly morning blowjob—a great breakfast down her throat is a plus.

“Hope daddy’s not too exhausted yet—the sun has barely set.” It’s pretty amazing how a supposedly innocent girl is so bold with her words, and how she’s acting that she isn’t exhausted herself from the pounding she took earlier. Yet, in all honesty, you really should have more energy stored because you want more from them and you need to be prepared for what they may have in store.

“Guess going to the gym has perks, huh, princess?”

“Guess so, daddy—Asa can vouch.” 

Asa struggles to answer, grasping it the second time as the euphoria of your cock repeatedly impaling her cunt takes up a toll on her. “God, y-yes—our cardio’s getting insane, so, I h-hope you can keep up, babe—god, you feel so good!”

Of course you will and will try to, even if it makes you pass out—you’re so down bad for them that you will do anything for them. 

Asa’s thighs buckle as her pussy wets onto the vicinity of your cock, the sheets and your hands, which is one of the culprits on how near her euphoric high will be. She seems to get tighter in each minute, which earns more guttural moans from you and that harsher grip on her hips. She’s just riding it out as she’s dangerously near, getting out with the pain you’re inflicting as you hold her frame with your arms, wrapping it on her waist and helping her chase what she needs.

She’s creaming and you’re fucking her through it, truly earth-shattering in each second that passes.

“Fuck, babe!” That was the green light, screaming her orgasmic elation as she buries her head onto your chest, holding her hands as she leaks like a faucet, forming rivulets of her juices on your thighs and the soaked sheets below (it’s not just the sheets, you’re buying a new fucking mattress after this night).

“Good girl, Asa—baby, you’re taking me so well, cum for me—all for me.” That’s your supporting role, stroking her hair and she whimpers against your chest, letting everything out as you keep your pace steady for her to handle. Her hips seems to fuck you still, impaling herself as she chases more of you, her libido in all time high as she needs you to do what you’ve promised her.

You became distracted with the sight of Asa cumming that you never noticed that Ahyeon was out of your sight, possibly in the bathroom preparing something. That sparks a little concern because you know she loves to watch this badly, but there’s nothing to be stressed about when Asa’s velvety walls are practically begging for your load.

“Please cum in me—please c-cum in me, daddy—please fucking do—please…” Asa’s begging for you, enough to fully submit to your control as you can’t resist not doing anything than just spurting it all inside her.

Still with all your might, you switched positions with her which earns a gasp from Asa, getting on top of her as you smirk, letting her know about the final blow she’ll take. 

There were no words to amplify the mood or to tease her, but your head is into the task that you’ve become borderline demonic—pounding her tight cunt with a velocity unparalleled, letting herself out of the condescending nature of hers and into submission, which she inevitably does. You keep fucking her until your hips give out, letting her legs wrap around your waist and let herself lock onto you, fulfilling what’s needed to be done as you’re dangerously near.

“Please—inside me, daddy.” Asa’s other hand pulls you into a deep, passionate kiss, now turning into something similar of lovemaking as your other hand supports her ass, fucking her deep and thorough as you’re clouding her mind as much as she’s doing it to yours. “I love you so much.”

“I love you too, Asa. Love you so much” You pull her into another kiss, Asa eagerly reciprocates as she pulls out, wanting to see your face as you make love to her. “I’m gonna cum in you now.”

That’s a gentle reminder but there’s nothing gentle with the way you’re pounding her—pistoning your hips into overdrive as Asa screams in pleasure, burying her head onto your shoulders as she can feel it.

You’re cumming all over, and it’s filthy and it’s perfect. Every inch of her walls is being painted white, every spurt being fucked deeper and deeper as the two of you entangle into another kiss, the elation converting onto something so spectacular—like, something so surreal.

It was a hot, ephemeral moment of delight, numerous spurts deposited inside her as she tells you how much she’s grateful for this as you tell her the same, making this moment something special and out of the ordinary sex sessions you’ve had with her.

“God, it’s so w-warm, daddy—oh my… That w-was so good…” Asa keeps kissing your lips, then your neck as she smiles ever so slightly, utterly satisfied with what you’ve given her. “Thank you so much for this—I’ve missed this.”

“I did miss this too—thank you for everything, Asa. This was—hah, really great and you took me so well”

Asa blushes with your compliment, then cups your cheeks, painting that longing expression of yearning and love, tearing up as she feels emotional being with you and this close, again. “Please stay like this, daddy—it feels so good.”

You wholeheartedly agree, never wanting to pull out as the feeling was paramount, walking on cloud nine. “I will, even with just a little while, love.”

Asa smiles with that, pecking onto her lips again and eager for another exchange, repeatedly murmuring how much you’ve missed each other as both your lips satiate each other’s hunger for each other that never ends. The both of you chuckle when you pull out of her lips’ embrace, as a familiar voice calls the both of you in the distance.

“Two lovebirds! I’m still here!” Ahyeon playfully crashes the party, both of your faces averting towards her as Asa laughs at you and rests her head onto your shoulder. 

“Sorry, princess—got lost there because of Asa. She really wanted me to cum deep in her so much that she became too submissive.”

Asa glares at you satirically, you laughing in response because of the face she made as you pull out of her snug pussy, earning a whine from her but she’s ultimately understanding why—as much as you want to keep it all inside her, you won’t keep yourself buried for long as the three of you will be occupied to do something else.

“Yah, I wasn’t that subby though—just loved it all inside me, that’s all.” Asa denying is just so adorable that you can’t help but stare so lovingly at her again, meanwhile Ahyeon was not buying that excuse of Asa, which Asa takes as something that is considered to be annoying.

“Just admit it, Asa—it’s fine, I’m always subby when daddy’s around.”

“Pfft, whatever.” Asa rolls her eyes on Ahyeon, making sure she sees it as you chuckle with their dynamic.

“Guess we’re going for a round three, daddy?” 

This girl is just insane, the both of them really are (in a good way). As much as you wanna do another one, you think to yourself that you need some time to recover and possibly, clean up the mess the three of you made to your own bodies.

“Okay, can we just clean up ourselves first, no?”

Asa feels like this is a call of something else, because what good would that do if the three of you are still going to indulge in filth yet again. “Won’t that be too worthless? We’re gonna get dirty anyways if—”

“Please, Asa?” You’re pleading and that side of yours is baffling as Asa likes it and Ahyeon, giggling and biting her lip, a bystander on what’s going to unfold. “Everything’s going to be better when you’re neat, duh.”

Well, you have a point and Ahyeon’s quick to notice that, letting you know that she’ll fire up the bathtub as Asa looks at you, sitting next to you on the bed. “We’re going to get ourselves clean, okay, babe? We’re not fucking there…”

You nodded, promising that as you sigh deeply, feeling satisfied for what just happened. You may break what you’ve promised but one thing’s for sure: both of your girls will love you for whatever you do.

Get ourselves clean, alright—that’s the right headspace, genuinely

Yet, your mind is clouded with another thought.

It wouldn’t hurt to try something, right?

---

Yeah, you lied. Nothing surprising, in all honesty.

That thought was inevitable and bound to happen, as you gave them a nice, warm facial as water mixes into your final blow. Their faces paint that familiar satisfaction, gleeful and thankful to possibly your last load for the day, laying waste on their perfect faces.

“Thank you, daddy.” Ahyeon kisses your tip, stroking you slowly as she wrings out every ounce of load stored in you, as Asa kisses your balls and your length.

“Guess you broke the promise, babe.”

“Can’t help it—not when two beautiful girls are blowing me eagerly, hm.” Asa can’t blame you as the insatiability is mutual, the feisty need to still deposit what you can somewhere lingers within you.

The bath is near full, and the three of you know better than this and not just shoot ropes of cum on their faces and taste it lewdly.

“Okay, let’s genuinely clean up.” You couldn’t agree more with that.

“We really should.”

---

This time, the three of you refrain from doing such debauchery and be productive for at least an hour, cleaning up and  preparing yourselves to be as neat yet simple for each other.

Well, genuinely, it wouldn’t matter if the three of you isn’t too invested on each other’s looks since all of you are comfortable in your place, but their simple beauty and etiquette is enough, even with such nasty sex that will eventually come—you know them enough to make that assumption lies towards the truth.

Yet right now, it’s just the best to enjoy the remaining hours of the day on such a wholesome note and what better way to do it is preparing them some delicious meals and a great movie session. It was a chaotic time with Asa when it comes to preparing the meals but it’s genuinely helpful even with the chaos that still happens—not to mention that you almost had a bruise handling a pot full of tteokbokki because of your clumsiness.

“I think we should’ve just ordered some food, babe.”

“Oh come on, really?” You’re in disbelief, feeling betrayed after exerting all of this effort with Asa. “We didn’t just do all this for nothing, baby.”

“I was thinking of some pizza just to add up here, that’s all.” Asa playfully hits your shoulder, her tone reassuring you that what you’re thinking isn’t her true intention. “After all, I really think we did a great job.”

You chuckle as Ahyeon’s voice calls you in the distance, stopping what you’re doing to avert your attention to hers. 

“What is it, Ahyeon-ah?”

“What genre do the two of you wanna watch?” She asks, staring at your eyes and pouting, anticipating an answer.

“Maybe some drama or romance can do—oh, maybe even horror, no?”

“Daddy!” You really love teasing Ahyeon with those, knowing how cute and pretty she is to the point that you’re incredibly swooning over her, the dear on those instilled as you say those words of terror. “Please not that—anything else?”

“Romance can do, Ahyeon-ie.” Asa answers her question, knowing damn well that you’d tease her until it gets annoying. “Also, can I have him for a moment? We’ll be fast.”

“Okay!” Ahyeon cheerfully answers as the younger girl returns to finding specific movies that can favor anyone’s taste, and Asa grabbing you by the wrist and drawing you out and towards the balcony.

“Hey, I’m still not done with the food, baby—what’s the matter?”

“I wanna tell something to you and you only.” She looks at the horizon and then flashes that familiar smile of hers. “I know this may sound pretty selfish but can you and I just be on my birthday? Like no one else?”

That piques your interest but never surprised—in this relationship, it’s just explainable on how clingy she is towards you, and even Ahyeon shows the same feeling towards you yesterday. Knowing how fair it sounds since Ahyeon had you all by herself yesterday, you nod which signals that you’re agreeing to what Asa proposes.

“Just so you know, you two are really greedy. Like, it’s unimaginable, y’know?” 

Asa chuckles, fixing her hair as she places her arms on your shoulders, feeling her minty scent brushing on your lips. “We really are—but thank you, babe. This night was great, can’t wait for what you have on my birthday.”

Technically, the night isn’t over but you’re thankful in the same way—the bond, gifts, fun, silliness and the sex, all of it is worth cherishing. You smile as you voice your sincere gratefulness which makes her feel the genuine love in her veins, her eyes glistening with yearning and about you.

Time feels slow as you come back to your senses after a few seconds, knowing the both of you needed to do something and not leave Ahyeon alone there (she’ll sulk if you disregard her, and you think that’s pretty cute).

“Alright, I gotta prepare the meals, baby.”

“And let me order some pizza for us.”

“Really?” That’s another annoyed face of yours, playfully showcasing your disappointment again which plays with her feelings a little. 

“What? Come on, babe—please? It’s just fair to treat you after all you’ve done…” Her pouts and that cute face whenever she pleads for something is your kryptonite, and you have no choice but to agree.

“Alright, as long as it’s not as big as the one you ordered last time.”

“Don’t worry, babe.” Asa chuckles as she reminisces that moment where you almost puke for challenging her that you can finish at least seven slices, which you deeply regret. “Not letting you do that again.”

You pull away from her embrace, then continue your dorky attitude towards her, the usual banter reverberating between the two of you as you’re satirical with the way you glared at her, going in and doing your own chores and responsibilities. 

Surely, maybe the three of you could go and fuck each other and make a mess somewhere in your place or go out and have some late night bonding sessions where you’ll truly cherish the night but one thing’s for sure: this was just the first part of what could be the best week of your entire life, and you’re calling it.

Swear to god, you still need them—you really fucking do as the spell they casted on you feels unending, and you’re drowning in that for the rest of your life.

---

You slow your pace. A figure hunched forward, elbows on knees, hands pressed against their head, their shoulders shaking. Not from the cold, but from crying. You can hear the faint whimpering. It's a woman. You can tell from the frame, small and slight, wearing this oversized hoodie. Her face is completely hidden, buried in her hands, and she's just... falling apart. Right there. On your bench.

Great. Just what you needed.

You glance around. The pathway stretches empty in both directions. No friends hovering nearby, no security guards, no one at all. Just you and this stranger having a breakdown on your bench at one in the morning. You could leave. Turn around, find another spot, let her have her moment of private misery without some asshole in a wrinkled blazer standing ten feet away like a creep.

But your feet don't move. Eventually, though, she becomes aware of you, because her head snaps up. That’s when the streetlight catches her face. Your own face is obscured by shadows, so she doesn't see your expression of astonishment when you see her.

It's Karina.

Yu Jimin. From aespa. The Yu Jimin whose face you've seen on billboards, variety shows and big stages. She's staring at you with red-rimmed eyes and tear-streaked cheeks and an expression that's rapidly shifting from devastation to alarm. "Who are you?" She scrambles to her feet, putting distance between you. "What are you doing here?"

You don't answer immediately. Your brain is still buffering, still trying to reconcile the idol on the billboards with the crying girl in front of you, but your mouth operates on autopilot. "Well." You gesture at the trees, the river, the general ambiance of public outdoor space. "This is a park. People walk here. I just came to sit on the bench where I usually come to cry… But it seems someone beat me to it."

Jimin's expression flickers. She can't tell if you're joking or genuinely pathetic, and honestly, neither can you. "I'm sorry." She wipes hastily at her face, smearing tears across her cheek. "I'll go. I shouldn't be here anyway."

"No, no." You wave your unbandaged hand in a dismissive gesture. "I'm kidding. Stay. Bench is all yours. I'm leaving."

Who cares about the problems of Korea’s it girl when your own life is falling apart? So you turn. Start walking. Your shoes click against the pavement again, and you're already thinking about the convenience store two blocks over, whether they'll have more chips, whether you can find another bench somewhere that doesn't have a sobbing celebrity on it.

Three steps. Four. Five.

You stop.

Because the thing is: that's Yu Jimin back there. Karina. And you watched the news last week like everyone else. You saw the footage of her walking off stage mid-performance, the confused backup dancers, the fan cams cutting to black. The internet exploded with theories. Mental breakdown. Contract dispute. Secret illness. Nobody knew anything concrete, and SM Entertainment released some bullshit statement about "scheduling adjustments" that convinced exactly no one.

And now she's here. Alone. Crying by the river at one in the morning with no one around. You don’t want to go home, fall asleep, and wake up in the morning to turn on the news and hear the final, tragic headline about Yu Jimin. Knowing you could have done something.

You turn back. Jimin hasn't moved. She's watching you with wary eyes, arms wrapped around herself.

"On second thought," you say, walking toward her again, "I'd like to leave. I really would. But all that social ethics and empathy that one person is supposed to have for another is making it difficult."

"I'm fine. Really. You can go."

You stop a few feet away from the bench. Study her face in the dim light. The swollen eyes, the blotchy skin, the way her lower lip trembles even as she tries to set her jaw.

"You don't look fine."

You sit down on the opposite end of the bench, leaving a solid three feet of space between you. The wood is cold through your slacks. You settle back, stretch your legs out, and stare at the river instead of her.

"If you want to talk about it," you say, "you can. I'll listen." You give her your name. She doesn’t give you hers. Whatever. You already know it.

"I'm not going to open up to a stranger."

"That's fair." You nod. "I wouldn't either. Strangers are terrible. Half of them are serial killers or… you know." Silence. The river laps against the concrete embankment. "I'll just sit here for a while," you continue. "Until you're feeling better. And, you know." You pause. "Stop you from jumping in the river."

"What? I’d never do that.”

"Great." You shrug. "Saves me the trouble. I can't swim."

Another pause. You're not looking at her, but you can feel her gaze on the side of your face, trying to figure you out. Trying to decide if you're making fun of her or genuinely this weird. You open the bag of chips. You pop one in your mouth, chew slowly, then tilt the bag in her direction.

"Want some?"

Jimin stares at the offering like it might be poisoned. Her eyes flick to your face, then back to the chips. She reaches out. Takes one. Eats it.

"These are my favorite," she says quietly.

"I know."

"How... How do you know that?"

You chew another chip. Swallow. "I know who you are. Everyone does. You're kind of famous."

She exhales, then murmurs: "Fuck."

"Yeah."

"You're a fan."

"I own an album or two. Doesn't mean anything. I'm not going to ask for a photo or an autograph or whatever. I'm not going to tell anyone I saw you here." You pause. "Crying alone at one in the morning isn't exactly the image SM wants to project, I'm guessing."

Jimin doesn't respond. She's staring at the river now, the same way you were a moment ago. The water is black and glittering under the scattered lights of the city. "Why are you being nice to me?" she asks finally.

You consider the question. Think about the boardroom meeting from hell, the investors pulling out, the whispered conversations that stop when you enter a room. Think about your throbbing knuckles and your empty apartment and the fact that you came here tonight because you didn't know where else to go.

"I'm not being nice," you say. "I'm being a basic human being." You hold out the bag again. She takes another chip.

"What happened to your hand?" Jimin's question catches you off guard. You'd almost forgotten about it. The throbbing has faded to a dull ache. You glance down at the bandages wrapped around your knuckles, the gauze is already slightly grimy from the evening's adventures.

"This?" You hold it up. "Got into a fight. Some guys. You know how it is." She raises an eyebrow. "Happens all the time," you continue, keeping your face perfectly straight. "You should've seen the other guys. Absolutely wrecked. One of them's probably still in the hospital."

"You don't seem like the type to get into a fight."

"Excuse me?"

"Or to win one."

You press your unbandaged hand to your chest and say, incredibly offended: "That's so rude. I'm very intimidating. You clearly don't know my reputation; I've beaten up half the guys in this city. "

"Uh huh."

"I do."

"Sure."

You hold the pose for another beat, then let it drop. Shrug. "Okay, you've got good eyes. I punched a mirror."

"A mirror?"

"In my office. Full-length. Extremely expensive. Had this whole elegant frame, imported from somewhere in Europe." You flex your fingers experimentally, wince slightly. "It won."

"Why would you punch a mirror?"

"Because the wall was too far away."

Before you can react, Jimin reaches over and takes your hand. Her fingers are cold against your skin as she turns your wrist, examining the bandages with a frown. The touch is clinical, careful, but it still sends something strange through your body.

"Don't do that again," she says. "You could have been seriously hurt. This needs to be rewrapped. Did you even clean it properly?"

"A doctor looked at it."

"A real doctor?"

"The emergency room kind. With a degree and everything."

She lets go of your hand. "I'm serious. That was stupid."

You tuck your hand back in your lap. "Sorry, If I'd known Yu Jimin would be upset about it, I wouldn't have done it."

Jimin's nose scrunches. It's subtle, but you catch it. "That's a weird thing to say to someone you just met."

"I'm a weird person. Ask anyone."

She doesn't respond to that. Instead, she reaches for the chip bag still sitting between you, pulls out another handful, and chews slowly. The crunch is the only sound for a long moment. "Why did you do it?" she asks. "The mirror thing. Were you drunk?"

"Stone cold sober." You lean back against the bench, tilt your head toward the sky. The stars are invisible here. Too much light pollution. Just a flat expanse of urban grey. At the lake house, there are probably stars in the sky. "I was angry."

"At what?"

"Everything. My life is crumbling right in front of me and there's nothing I can do about it. I just have to sit there and watch it fall apart, piece by piece, while everyone stands around waiting for me to fix it." You pause. "The worst part is that it's my fault. All of it. Every single thing that's going wrong right now is because of decisions I made."

Jimin is quiet. Listening.

"Now everyone hates me," you continue. "My investors. My board. My employees, probably. They all look at me like I'm some kind of idiot child who got lucky once and has been failing upward ever since." You give a quiet, self-deprecating laugh. "Maybe they're right."

"What happened?" Jimin asks. "With your company?"

You think about how much to tell her, how much you even want to say out loud. But between the darkness, the late hour, and how ridiculous this whole situation is, this bench and Jimin seem very much like a safe space.

"I made a bet," you say. "A big one. Moved a lot of money into a position that I was sure would pay off. Everyone told me it was risky. Everyone told me to hedge, to be careful, to think about the downside. And I told them they were being cowards." You close your eyes. "I was wrong. The position collapsed. We lost... a lot. More than I want to think about. And now the investors are pulling out, the board wants my head, and the company I built is probably going to be sold off to some private equity firm that'll gut it for parts."

"That sounds..."

"Pathetic? Yeah."

"I was going to say overwhelming."

You open your eyes. Look at her. "Same thing, in my experience."

Jimin pulls her knees up to her chest, wrapping her arms around them. "Do you feel powerless?"

"Every second of every day lately."

She nods slowly. "Me too," she says quietly.

You turn to face her more fully. "Yeah?"

"Yeah."

"Then I guess we have a lot in common. Karina and I, united by a shared feeling. Who would have thought, huh?”

A breeze picks up, carrying the smell of water and city and approaching rain. You watch Jimin shiver, then you shrug out of your blazer. It's rumpled, probably smells like stress sweat, but it's wool and it's warm.

"Here."

She looks at the offered jacket, then at you. "No, I'm fine."

"You're shaking."

"It's not that cold."

"Your lips are turning blue."

"They are not."

"Just take it." You hold it out further. "I'm not being polite. I'm being practical. If you get hypothermia out here, I'm the one who has to deal with it, and I really don't want to explain to the paramedics why I was hanging out with an idol at one in the morning."

Jimin hesitates. Then, slowly, she takes the blazer. Drapes it over her shoulders. It swallows her, the sleeves hanging past her hands, the hem nearly reaching her thighs.

"It fits you perfectly," you say.

She looks down at herself. A ghost of something that might be amusement crosses her face. She pulls the blazer tighter around herself and asks: "Are you scared?"

You take a moment before answering. "Yes."

"Of what?"

"Losing everything. Proving everyone right about me. Finding out that I really am just a lucky idiot who got in over his head." You pick at the edge of your bandage. "Waking up one day and realizing I wasted my entire life chasing something that was never going to work out." Jimin nods. Like she understands. Like she knows exactly what that fear tastes like. "What about you?" you ask. "What are you afraid of?"

"Getting lost," she replies. "Not knowing who I am anymore." She presses her forehead to her knees. "I've been doing this for so long. Being Karina. Being what everyone wants me to be. And somewhere along the way, I think I forgot who I was before all of it. Who I am underneath. Sometimes I look at myself in the mirror and can’t see myself. A body with no face.” You don't say anything. You just listen. "I don't know who I really am," she continues. "And I don’t know how to figure it out."

"I had a girlfriend in college," you say after a moment. "She was really into esoteric stuff. Crystals, tarot cards, meditation retreats. The whole thing. She used to say that when you think too much, your mind separates from your body. Like it just... drifts away. Floats off somewhere and leaves the rest of you behind." You wave your uninjured hand. "She said the key was recalibration. Bringing your mind back to your body. Grounding yourself in the physical."

"How do you do that?"

You shrug. "No idea. We broke up before I figured that part out." Jimin lets out a breath. It's almost a laugh. "But you'll figure it out," you add. "Eventually. You seem smart."

"You don't know me."

"I know you have good taste in chips. That's something."

You stand up. Your body protests, joints stiff from the cold, but you ignore it. You grab the bag of chips (still half full) and hold it out to her. "Here. Take the rest."

She looks up at you. "I can't take your chips."

"Consider it a gift. From one pathetic person crying in a park to another."

Jimin takes the bag, holds it in her lap.

"My company," you say, "is in the Yeouido financial district. The building with the copper spire that's shaped like a twisted flame. You can't miss it. Only building in Seoul that looks like it's actively on fire." You pause. "My office is on the top floor. If you ever want to talk. Or just sit somewhere warm and eat snacks in silence. Whatever. Just show up."

She stares at you. "You're inviting me to your office?"

"Yeah. Is that weird? I feel like I lost my social instincts a while back."

"Why?"

"Because I have a lot of snacks up there, and no one to share them with." You start backing away, keeping your eyes on her. "It was a pleasure meeting you, Jimin-ssi. Genuinely. Even under the circumstances."

She doesn't respond. Just watches you, the blazer still wrapped around her shoulders, your chips still clutched in her hands.

"And maybe stop going out alone in the middle of the night," you add. "It's not safe. There are weirdos everywhere. Present company included." You take a few more steps backward. Almost trip on a crack in the pavement. Recover with what you hope is dignity. "One more thing."

Jimin tilts her head.

"You're my favorite in aespa," you say. "Always have been. Total diva."

And there it is. Finally. The corner of her mouth twitches, then lifts, and she smiles. It’s small, tired, still a little broken, but it’s there. Real.

“Thank you,” she says.

You turn and walk away before you can say another stupid thing. At least tonight, you’ll go to sleep knowing you made Karina from aespa crack a small smile.

—

It's a hallway big enough for everyone, but they insist on staying close to you. Your chief financial officer walks on your left, rattling off numbers that stopped meaning anything to you three days ago. Your head of operations flanks your right as he lists every reason why this trip is a terrible idea. Behind you, your assistant struggles to keep up while she reminds you about the seventeen emails you haven't answered.

You? Well, you’re starting to get pissed about the lack of personal space.

"You can't just leave," the CFO says. "There's too much happening here. The quarterly reports need your signature by Friday, and the auditors are asking questions about the Singapore accounts."

"I'm taking my MacBook." You don't slow down. "I can do everything remotely. That's the whole point of technology."

"With respect, sir, you said that last time and then you disappeared for three days without answering a single call."

"It won't happen again. You have my word."

Your operations head cuts in. "The meeting will also be on Friday. The board meeting. You need to be there. Everything is at stake. They're going to vote on whether to accept the acquisition offer, and if you're not present to argue against it, they'll sell us off without a second thought."

"I'll be there." You reach the elevator bay and press the button. "I'll be back on Friday morning. I'll sit in that room and I'll argue until I'm blue in the face. But right now, today, I'm getting on a plane."

"Sir, please, we need to discuss the restructuring proposal. The legal team has concerns about the liability clauses, and the PR department wants to schedule a press conference to address the investor concerns, and there's the matter of the pension fund adjustments that require your direct approval, and honestly we're all very worried about your mental state given recent events and we think perhaps you should speak to someone, a professional, someone who can help you process what's happening because this level of avoidance behavior is concerning and we care about you as a person not just as our employer and—"

The elevator doors open and there she is: Seol Yoon-a. Standing dead center like she's posing for a photoshoot. Her hair's down, these perfect brown waves past her shoulders, so glossy that makes you wonder if it's even real. Angular face, delicate features, coral pink lipstick. She's tall. Taller than you right now, but it's because of the high heels. The short blue dress is definitely designer, you can tell just by looking at it. And she's holding her dog. A tiny white Pomeranian with a rhinestone collar, cradled in her arms like it's a purse.

She looks absolutely furious.

"I have been trying to reach you all morning," she says. "All. Morning. I called seven times. Seven. I texted you fourteen messages. I even tried emailing."

You step into the elevator. The doors close behind you, sealing you in with her and the world's most judgmental Pomeranian.

"I was in meetings."

"You were avoiding me."

"Those aren't mutually exclusive."

"You've been so irresponsible lately," she continues. "Missing dinners. Canceling plans. Last week you forgot we were supposed to go to that gallery opening, and I had to show up alone like some kind of abandoned housewife."

"My company is on the verge of collapse." You watch the floor numbers tick upward. "I think I've earned the right to be a little irresponsible."

"That's not an excuse."

"It's literally the definition of an excuse. A reason for not doing something. My reason is corporate bankruptcy."

She huffs. The Pomeranian huffs with her. You wonder if she trained it to do that or if it just absorbed her personality through proximity.

"What about dinner tonight?" she demands. "With my parents? They've been wanting to meet you for months now, and I finally convinced them to fly in from Busan, and the reservation at that restaurant took three weeks to get, and my father is very particular about punctuality, and my mother is going to ask me why you're not there, and what am I supposed to tell her? That my boyfriend is too busy having a crisis to show basic courtesy?"

"We've already talked about this: I'm not your boyfriend,” you remind Yoon-a and see her face deflate right before your eyes. You exhale and add: “Yet. I’m not your boyfriend… yet. And I can't do that right now. I have too much going on. Your parents will have to wait."

"You always say that. You always have some excuse. I'm starting to think you don't even like me anymore."

You exhale slowly. Count to three. Try to find the diplomatic answer, the gentle deflection, the words that will smooth this over without actually addressing the underlying issue.

"I like you," you say. "But sometimes you can be a little... clingy."

Yoon-a's eyes go wide. Her mouth drops open. The Pomeranian actually stops yapping, like even it knows you've crossed a line.

"Clingy?" She repeats, completely horrified, like it’s the most offensive thing a guy could ever say to a girl. "You think I'm clingy?"

"I said a little."

"How could you say that?" She clutches the dog closer, and her outrage reaches a fever pitch. "How could you say that in front of our son?"

Your eyes sweep over the tiny fluffball, unimpressed, before flicking to her. "Pretty sure our son doesn’t shed this much.”

"Excuse me?"

"That dog isn't our son. You've had him for four years. We've been together for eight months. The math doesn't work."

Yoon-a literally gasps. Like you've said something unforgivable. She claps one hand over the Pomeranian's ear, pressing his fluffy head against her chest.

"Don't listen to him, baby," she coos. "He doesn't mean it. He's just having one of his moods."

"I'm not having a mood. I'm stating a fact."

The elevator dings. The doors open onto the ground floor lobby. Yoon-a steps out. Turns to face you. Her eyes are glistening (whether from genuine hurt or theatrical effect, you can't tell.)

“If you’re gonna be petty and take your frustration out on our innocent kid, then we’re done," she announces. "It's over. Don't look for me again. Don't call me. Don't text me. Don't even think about me." She spins on her heel and strides away.

"Yoon-a." You step out of the elevator, follow her a few paces. "Yoon-a, wait. We should talk about this."

She doesn't turn around. Doesn't slow down. Just keeps walking. You stand there for a moment. Processing. Then you shake your head and keep walking.

You're maybe twenty steps from the main exit when someone intercepts you. A young woman from the front desk. "Sir? I'm sorry to bother you, but there's someone here who wants to speak with you."

"I cancelled all my appointments today."

"I know, sir, but she was very insistent, and she's been waiting for almost an hour, and she said you'd want to see her."

You frown. "Who is it?"

The receptionist hesitates. Glances over her shoulder toward the lobby seating area. "She says her name is Yu Jimin. Karina. From… aespa.” You stop walking.

It's been two weeks since that night by the river. Two weeks since you sat on a bench with Yu Jimin and shared chips and talked about falling apart. Two weeks since you gave her your blazer and told her where to find you and walked away thinking that was probably the last time you'd ever see her. You'd convinced yourself she wouldn't come. Why would she? You're a stranger. A random guy she met while crying in a park. The invitation was impulsive, probably inappropriate, definitely weird. Any sensible person would have thrown your blazer in the trash and forgotten the whole thing.

And yet.

"Where?" you ask. The receptionist points toward the seating area near the windows. And there she is: Jimin sits on one of the low leather couches, her posture slightly hunched, her hands folded in her lap. She's wearing a baseball cap pulled low and a face mask that covers half her features, the standard idol disguise that fools absolutely no one. On the couch beside her sits Yoon-a.

Oh no.

You move closer, and fragments of conversation reach you: "Are you Karina?" Yoon-a is asking, leaning in with that curiosity she gets when she thinks she's discovered something interesting. "From aespa? You look exactly like her."

"No." Jimin's reply is quiet, muffled by the mask. "I get that a lot, though."

"The resemblance is insane. Like, identical. Are you sure you're not her?"

"I'm sure."

Yoon-a tilts her head, studies Jimin for another moment, then seems to accept the answer. "Well, whoever you are, your hair is gorgeous. What products do you use?"

"Um. Thank you. I don't really—"

"Anyway, I have to go. My ex-boyfriend is being dramatic and I need to go post something on Instagram that will make him jealous." Yoon-a stands, adjusts the Pomeranian in her arms, and sweeps away without a backward glance.

Jimin watches her go with visible relief. Then she sees you. She stands quickly, pulling down her mask. Her face is bare of makeup, her hair tucked under the cap. "Hi," she says.

"Hi." A beat of silence. The lobby hums around you, people coming and going, phones ringing, the distant chime of elevators. "I thought I’d never see you again," you say. "Honestly. I thought you'd written me off as some weirdo who talks to crying strangers."

"You are a weirdo who talks to crying strangers."

"Fair point."

She shifts her weight, uncertain. "Is this a bad time? I should have called first. I didn't have your number, so I just showed up, which is probably weird, I know, I can leave if you're busy—"

"Any time is a bad time right now." You shrug. "My entire life is a bad time. So it doesn't really matter."

That seems to relax her slightly. She reaches into the bag slung over her shoulder and pulls out something familiar. Your blazer, folded neatly. "I came to return this," she says. "And also... I don't know. I've been thinking about that conversation we had. About you. About everything you said." She pauses, searching for words. "I thought it might be nice to see you again. If that's okay."

You take the blazer from her hands. The fabric still smells faintly of her perfume. "It's okay," you say.

Her gaze drops to the overnight bag slung over your shoulder, the coat draped over your arm. "Are you going somewhere?"

"Yeah. I'm..." You hesitate. "I'm taking a trip. Getting out of the city for a few days. Clear my head."

"Oh.” Her eyes flick down for a moment. “Then I should let you go. I didn't mean to interrupt your plans."

You should probably just let her go. Say goodbye, wish her well, catch your flight solo like you'd originally planned. Be a normal, sensible person about this. That's what you're supposed to do here. That's the appropriate move.

But you're looking at her standing there, and you're thinking about two weeks of radio silence. You're thinking about how she smiled at you that night. Just once. Just barely. But she did. "Come with me," you say.

"What?"

"Come with me. On the trip."

"I—what? I can't just—you're not serious."

"I'm going to my family's lake house. A few hours outside the city. I'll be the only one there. Totally empty. Totally quiet." You pause. "Company would be nice. If you want."

She stares at you like you've lost your mind. Which, to be fair, you might have. "Don't you have a girlfriend or something?" she asks.

"The girl who was talking to you a minute ago, she was almost my girlfriend. Emphasis on was and almost." You sigh. "Pretty sure I ruined that. Again. It's becoming a pattern."

"She was beautiful."

"Yeah. In another universe, she's probably an idol. Could give you a run for your money." You tilt your head, considering. "In this universe, she's just a kind of ditzy rich girl. Good heart, though. Deep down." Jimin doesn't seem to know how to respond to that. "The offer stands," you continue. "Private jet. Lake house. Fresh air. It might be my last trip on that plane, actually. I'll probably have to sell it soon to cover some debts. Might as well enjoy it while I can."

"I'm not ready," she says. "I don't have a suitcase. I don't have clothes. I didn't plan for this."

You check your watch. "You have an hour and a half. Go home, pack a bag, get your documents and meet me at Gimpo airfield. I'll text you the details."

"This is insane. I shouldn't be traveling alone with someone I barely know."

"Definitely not. Objectively, this is one of the stupidest things anyone could do."

She crosses her arms. Narrows her eyes at you. "How do I know you're not going to murder me or something?"

"I don't like blood." You hold up your hand, showing her the healing scars across your knuckles. "When I punched that mirror and saw it bleeding, I almost passed out. Had to sit down for ten minutes. My secretary had to bring me juice."

Her expression softens slightly. "How is it? Your hand?"

"Better. See? All healed up. No lasting damage."

"Good."

"So no murders," you say. "I'd honestly prefer to keep all your blood and organs exactly where they are. Inside your body. Where they belong."

Jimin just looks at you. For a while. Long enough that you're starting to wonder if she heard you correctly. She's clearly thinking it over. You can see it on her face. The mental math she's doing: how bad could this go versus how bad is everything already? Scary unknown versus scary known. Taking a chance versus playing it safe. "Okay," she says finally. "I'll come."

You grin. "It's going to be great," you tell her. "Sun. Water. Peace and quiet. You should bring a bikini.”

"A bikini."

"For swimming. In the lake. It's very refreshing."

"Uh huh... You realize you sound completely deranged right now, right? 'Come to my isolated lake house, strange woman I met while she was crying. Bring a bikini.'"

"When you say it like that—"

"How else should I say it?"

"More... optimistically?"

She laughs. "You're crazy. Like, genuinely crazy. I should probably run."

"But you're not going to."

"No," she admits. "I'm apparently just as crazy as you are."

—

By the time you and Jimin make it from the car to the front door, you're both soaked from the knees down despite your best efforts. The wind keeps changing direction, driving sheets of water sideways, and the umbrella is basically decorative at this point. You fumble with the keys. Drop them once. Curse under your breath. Finally get the door open and practically shove Jimin inside before following her, slamming the door shut against the storm.

The house is dark. Quiet. You find the light switch and the entryway floods with warm yellow glow, illuminating hardwood floors and cream-colored walls and the faint layer of dust on the decorative table by the door. Jimin sets two small suitcases in the corner. You drop your bag beside it. Water drips from both of you, pooling on the floor.

"So," you say, before she can say anything. "Yeah. I know. I said there would be sun. I specifically mentioned sun. And a lake. And bikinis." She looks at you. Doesn't say anything. Just looks. "This is climate change," you continue, gesturing at the windows where rain lashes against the glass. "The weather's completely unpredictable now. Changes overnight. There's literally no way I could have known this was going to happen. It was sunny when we left Seoul." Still nothing. Just that steady gaze. "But hey." You move further into the house, hitting more light switches as you go. "At least the power works. See? Fully functional. Lights, electricity, the whole deal. Modern amenities."

To prove your point, you grab the remote from the coffee table and turn on the television mounted above the fireplace. The screen flickers to life, and a news anchor's face fills the frame. "—unprecedented storm system that meteorologists have been tracking for weeks now," the anchor is saying. "Residents in the affected areas have been advised to stay indoors and avoid unnecessary travel. The storm is expected to continue through the weekend, with rainfall totals potentially reaching—"

You become very aware of Jimin standing behind you. "Okay." You clear your throat. "So apparently they have been talking about this. For weeks. Allegedly."

"Allegedly."

"I don't watch the news. Who watches the news anymore? It's all doom and gloom. Very bad for mental health." You turn to face her, attempting something like an apologetic expression. "I'm sorry. You must be upset."

Jimin shrugs. Pulls off her damp jacket and drapes it over the back of a chair. "It's fine."

"It's not fine. I promised you sun and delivered a monsoon."

"I wasn't really in the mood for sun anyway." She looks around the living room, taking in the leather couches, the stone fireplace, the floor-to-ceiling windows that currently showcase nothing but grey sheets of rain. "This is better, actually."

"See?" You point at her triumphantly. "I manage to get things right even when I completely screw up. It's a gift."

"—still no word on the whereabouts of Yu Jimin, known professionally as Karina of the K-pop group aespa. The idol, who mysteriously disappeared earlier this week, has not been seen publicly since—" You watch Jimin's expression freeze. "—sources close to the group suggest she may be traveling alone, though her exact location remains unknown. Fans and media alike have expressed growing concern following her abrupt departure from the group's final tour concert last month. SM Entertainment has declined to comment on the situation, releasing only a brief statement asking for privacy during this difficult time—"

You turn off the TV. "Did you tell anyone where you were going?" you ask.

Jimin moves to the window. Stares out at the storm. "I told them I was traveling. That I was fine. That I needed some time."

"But not where."

"No. Not where."

"People are going to be worried. Your members. Your family."

"I know." Her breath fogs the glass. "But it's better this way. If they knew where I was, they'd come. They'd try to help. And I can't... I don't want that right now.” You don't push. Don't ask why. "So." Jimin turns away from the window. "What are we going to do here?"

You scratch the back of your neck. "Honestly? I have no idea."

"You didn't plan anything?"

"The whole trip was impulsive. I wasn't thinking past 'get out of Seoul before I lose my mind.' And now..." You gesture at the rain. "There's not much we can do in this weather anyway."

Another silence. You both avoid looking directly at each other, which is ridiculous, because you're adults and this is just a house and there's nothing weird about any of this except for the part where everything about this is incredibly weird. You're a businessman on the verge of bankruptcy. She's a global pop star who just disappeared from the public eye. You're standing in your family's lake house in the middle of nowhere while a storm rages outside, and neither of you has any idea what you're doing here.

"Do you want to see the lake?" you ask suddenly.

"In this?"

"There should be raincoats somewhere. My family used to keep outdoor stuff in the mudroom." You pause. "But first, let me show you the house. So you know where everything is." She nods. Follows you as you move through the ground floor.

The lake house is two stories of weathered wood and large windows. The ground floor is mostly open plan, the living area flowing into a kitchen that hasn't been updated since the early 2000s but still works fine. A dining table that seats eight people who no longer gather here. A fireplace that you should probably light later, assuming you remember how. Sliding glass doors that lead to a deck overlooking the water, currently being pelted by rain so hard you can barely see the lake beyond. You flip on lights as you go, chasing away the gloom. "This is all very nice," Jimin observes, running her fingers along the edge of the kitchen island. "Your family has money." She opens the refrigerator. Stares at the contents. "There's food in here."

"Yeah, I called ahead. There's a company that does this, stocks up vacation homes before people arrive. Groceries, supplies, fresh linens. Very convenient when you're rich." You lean against the counter. "Or when you used to be rich..."

"That's very... prepared of you."

"I have my moments."

She closes the refrigerator and you continue the tour, showing her the small bathroom off the hallway, the laundry room with its industrial-sized washer and dryer, the study lined with bookshelves that your father never actually read.

The stairs creak as you climb to the second floor. The sound is familiar. Kind of comforting, in a strange way. "Master bedroom is at the end of the hall," you say, pointing. "That one's mine when I'm here. There are two guest rooms. This one—" You open a door on the left. "Has the better view."

Jimin steps inside. The room is simple but comfortable. Queen-sized bed with a white duvet, wooden dresser, soft carpet underfoot. But the window takes up most of the far wall, and even through the rain, you can see the lake stretching out beyond the property line, grey water merging with grey sky. "It's beautiful," she says softly. "Even with the storm."

"Yeah." You lean against the doorframe, watching her watch the view. "It's a peaceful place. Was, anyway."

"Was?"

"My family's been thinking about selling it. The whole area used to be full of families who came for the summers. Kids running around, barbecues on the weekends, boats on the lake. But over the last few years..." You shrug. "People started leaving. Selling their houses. The economy changed, people's priorities changed. Now half the homes around here are empty. The ones that aren't belong to people who only show up once or twice a year."

Jimin turns from the window. "That's sad."

"It is what it is." You examine a scratch on the doorframe, remembering when you put it there. You were twelve. A hockey stick. Your mother had been furious. "I told my father I'd buy the place myself if he tried to sell. He laughed at me. Said I was being sentimental."

"Were you?"

"Probably. But I don't care." You look around the room, at the walls that have witnessed more of your life than most people. "My family stopped coming here years ago. Now it's just... a graveyard of memories, I guess. A place where ghosts of who we used to be hang out."

"That sounds lonely."

"It is. But it's also one of the few places where I can pretend my problems can't reach me." You meet her eyes. "It's not true, obviously. They're still there. Waiting. But here, I can ignore them for a while. Act like they don't exist."

Jimin is quiet for a moment. Processing. "Then we'll pretend together," she says. "Both of us. For however long we're here. No problems. No expectations. No outside world."

You smile. Actually smile, not the sarcastic smirk you usually default to, but something genuine.

"Yeah," you say. "That sounds like a good plan. Come on, let's grab our raincoats.”

The raincoat is bright yellow and two sizes too big, clearly designed for someone with broader shoulders and longer arms than you possess. The sleeves hang past your wrists and the hood keeps slipping forward into your eyes. Jimin's raincoat is green, equally oversized, and she looks like she's being slowly consumed by a plastic tarp. Neither of you comments on how ridiculous you both look.

The wind hits you the moment you step off the porch, sharp and wet and insistent, pushing against your chest. You shove your hands into the raincoat's pockets and start walking, and Jimin falls into step beside you without a word. The path to the lake is overgrown. Weeds push through the gravel, and the bushes on either side have grown wild. Your family used to keep this place immaculate. Hired groundskeepers, regular maintenance, the whole thing. Now it's slowly returning to nature, one missed appointment at a time.

Rain drums against your hood in a constant, rhythmic patter. Your sneakers (you'd changed out of the dress shoes, thankfully) squelch in the mud. The air smells like wet earth and pine. You don't talk. Neither does Jimin. The trees thin out and suddenly the lake is in front of you, stretching gray and vast and choppy under the assault of the storm. Waves roll across the surface, small but persistent, breaking against the rocky shore with soft, repetitive sounds. The far side of the lake is barely visible through the rain, just a smudge of green that might be forest.Jimin stops at the edge of the water. Stands there. Watches.

You watch her watch the lake for a moment, then your attention drifts downward. Stones. The shoreline is littered with them. You bend down, pick one up, test its weight in your palm. Your arm snaps forward. The stone hits the surface at an angle and skips once, twice, three times before sinking.

"Not bad," you mutter to yourself. You find another stone. Skip it. This one gets four jumps before disappearing. Jimin still hasn't moved.

"What's your favorite memory of this place?" You pause mid-throw, stone in hand, and actually think about it.

"Fishing," you say finally. "With my grandfather."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah." You let the stone fly. Three skips. "He used to take me out on this little rowboat he kept tied up by the dock. Every summer, without fail. We'd go out early in the morning, before anyone else was awake, and just sit there on the water with our lines in."

Jimin turns to look at you. The rain runs down her face, dripping off her chin, but she doesn't to care. "Did you catch anything?"

"Never." You laugh. "Not once. My grandfather said the fish in this lake were too smart for us. I think he just didn't know what he was doing, honestly. But it didn't matter. We'd sit there for hours anyway, talking about nothing, watching the sun come up. He'd tell me stories about when he was young. I'd complain about school. It was nice."

"That sounds nice."

"It was." You find another stone. Don't throw it. Just turn it over in your fingers, feeling the smooth surface. "I've never fished since he died. Haven't been on that boat either. I don't even know if it's still there."

"You should check."

"Maybe."

Jimin is quiet for a moment. Then: "I've never been fishing."

"No?"

"No. I grew up in the city. The closest I ever got to nature was the park near my apartment, and that was just grass and pigeons."

"You should try it sometime. Fishing, I mean. It's boring as hell, but in a good way."

"Would you teach me?"

You laugh again. "I would, but I don't actually know how. My grandfather died before he finished teaching me everything." You pause. Shrug. "At least I know how to bait a hook. That's something."

"I'm sorry," Jimin says softly. "About your grandfather."

"It's okay. It was a long time ago." You throw the stone. It skips five times. Your best one yet. "He was old. Sick. It was expected. Doesn't mean it didn't suck, but... you know. Life." Jimin nods. Doesn't offer any platitudes, any empty comforts. Just accepts the statement for what it is. You throw a few more stones. The rain keeps falling. The lake keeps churning. "How are you feeling?" you ask eventually. "Inside, I mean. Not just the wet and cold part."

Jimin doesn't answer immediately. She wraps her arms around herself and stares out at the water. "Tired," she says. "Really tired. Which doesn't make sense, because I'm not doing anything. I haven't been doing anything for weeks. But I wake up exhausted and I go to bed exhausted and the sleep in between doesn't help."

"Are you sleeping?"

"Not well. A few hours here and there. My brain won't shut up." She kicks at a stone near her foot, sending it tumbling into the water with a plop. "It's like there's this constant noise in my head. Thoughts that won't stop. Worries that won't go away. And the more I try to quiet them, the louder they get."

"Yeah," you say. "I know what that's like."

"At the same time..." She trails off. Takes a breath. "At the same time, I feel like I want to scream. Just open my mouth and let everything out. All the frustration and the fear and the anger and whatever else is stuck inside me. I want to scream until my throat is raw and my lungs are empty and there's nothing left."

You pick up another stone. Hold it. Don't throw. "So scream," you say.

Jimin looks at you. “What do you mean?"

"Scream. If you want to scream, scream."

"I can't just... scream. In the middle of nowhere. That's crazy."

"Why not? There's no one here to hear you. Just me, and I don't care." You gesture at the lake, at the rain, at the empty expanse of wilderness surrounding you. "This is literally the perfect place to scream. No neighbors. No fans. No cameras. Just water and trees and a storm that's loud enough to drown out anything." She's looking at you like she's trying to figure out if you're serious. You get that look a lot. "I want to scream too," you admit. "I've wanted to scream for weeks. Maybe months. Maybe years, honestly. There's a lot of stuff in here—" you tap your chest "—that needs to come out. And I figure if I'm going to do it, might as well do it now. Might as well do it here." Jimin still looks uncertain. Skeptical.

So you turn toward the lake. Plant your feet. Fill your lungs with wet, cold air. And you scream. It's not a word. Not a name. Not anything coherent. Just sound, raw and loud, ripping out of your throat and hurling itself across the water. You scream until your lungs are empty, until your voice cracks, until the sound dissolves into the rain and the wind and the endless grey. Then you stop. Breathe. Your throat burns slightly.

Jimin is staring at you with wide eyes. "Your turn," you say.

She hesitates. Looks at the lake. Looks back at you. Then she screams.

It starts small, tentative, like she's testing the waters. But then something breaks loose inside her, something that's been building for god knows how long, and the scream grows. It gets louder, longer, more desperate. Her whole body tenses with the effort of it, hands clenched into fists at her sides, face tilted toward the sky. She screams like she's trying to empty herself out. Like she's trying to purge every bad thought, every fear, every moment of doubt and pain and exhaustion that's been weighing her down.

When she finally stops, she's breathing hard. Her eyes are wet, and you can't tell if it's rain or tears. "That was great," you say. "Really solid scream. Eight out of ten."

She lets out a shaky laugh. "Only eight?"

"Room for improvement. Here, let's do it together. On three."

"This is ridiculous."

"One."

"I'm not doing this."

"Two."

"You're insane."

"Three." You both scream. Together. Two voices rising over the lake, tangling with the wind and the rain, filling the empty space with something loud and alive. You scream until you can't anymore, until you're both bent over with your hands on your knees, gasping for air, throats raw. Jimin starts laughing. It's a small sound at first, barely audible over the storm, but it grows. She laughs until she's clutching her stomach, until she has to sit down on a wet rock because her legs won't hold her anymore.

You sit down next to her. Don't say anything. Just let her laugh. Eventually, she calms down. Wipes her face with the back of her hand, which doesn't help because her hand is just as wet as her face.

"How do you feel?" you ask.

"A little better," she admits. "Not fixed. But... lighter, maybe.”

"That's the magic of screaming into the void," you say. "I should start charging for this."

Jimin snorts. "Please don't."

"Fine. Free screaming sessions for you. Special discount." You stand up. Offer her your hand. "Come on," you say. "Let's walk around the lake. The path goes all the way around if you follow it. Takes about an hour." She takes your hand. Lets you pull her to her feet. Doesn't let go immediately, and neither do you.

"An hour in this rain?" she asks.

"We're already soaked. Can't get any wetter."

"That's not technically true."

"Are you always this pedantic?"

"Are you always this impulsive?"

"Yes," you say. "You better get used to it.” You start walking. She falls into step beside you, close enough that your shoulders almost brush. The rain keeps falling. The wind keeps blowing. Neither of you talks much. Just walks. Breathes. Exists in the same space.

The path curves around the eastern edge of the lake, narrowing where the trees press closer, their branches heavy with rain. Your sneakers make obscene squelching sounds with every step, and you've given up trying to keep your socks dry. That battle was lost about twenty minutes ago. "Have you thought about what you'll do?" Jimin asks suddenly. "If things don't work out?"

You glance at her. "What do you mean?"

"I mean..." She hesitates. Kicks at a pebble on the path. "I know it's going to work out. Everything will be fine. But hypothetically. If it doesn't. Have you thought about it?" She pauses again. "You don't have to answer if you don't want to."

You consider deflecting. Making a joke. Changing the subject. That's what you usually do when conversations get too close to the things you don't want to look at. But you don’t.

"There's a very good chance I'm going to end up completely screwed," you say. "Like, financially devastated. Career over. Reputation destroyed. The whole thing. I still have my family, technically. My father would probably let me crawl back. He'd love that, actually. His disappointing son finally admitting defeat. Finally proving that he was right all along, that I was too young, too arrogant, too stupid to run a company… That's the worst part, honestly. Not the money. Not the failure. The thought of looking him in the eye and seeing that smug expression. That 'I told you so' face he's been waiting years to make."

"Would you go back? To your family?"

"I don't know. Maybe. Probably." You shrug. "Or maybe I'd just do what rich guys who lose everything always do in this situation." Jimin's head snaps toward you. Her eyes narrow. "I'm kidding," you say quickly. "That was a joke. Dark humor. Bad timing." She keeps staring at you. "Mostly kidding," you murmur under your breath.

"That's not funny."

"I know. Sorry." You clear your throat. "Okay, real answer. Plan B. If everything falls apart and I can't face my father and I don't want to do anything... dramatic. I move into this house permanently. Live off the land. Become one with nature."

Jimin's expression shifts from concern to skepticism. "You?"

"Me."

"Living off nature?"

"Why not?"

"You don't seem like the type who could survive out here for more than a week. You probably don't even know how to start a fire without a lighter."

"I absolutely do. I watched a YouTube video once. Have you seen that movie? Into the Wild? About a guy who gives up everything and goes to live in the wilderness. That could be me. I'm basically the same. Trust fund baby, disillusioned with society, seeking meaning in the natural world."

"Didn't he die at the end?"

"Yeah, but that's not the point."

Jimin snorts. "I think that's exactly the point."

"The point is that I would adapt. I'm very adaptable. Give me a few months out here and I'd be hunting my own food, building my own shelter, communing with the wildlife." You gesture grandly at the surrounding forest. "In a few years, I'd be able to take on a bear. Hand-to-hand combat. Mano a mano."

"You'd be mincemeat," Jimin says flatly. "A bear would destroy you in about three seconds."

"Three seconds is a bit of an exaggeration."

"It's realistic. You'd see a bear up close and you'd wet your pants before it even touched you."

"Excuse me?” Resting your palm over your heart, you arch an offended brow. “You clearly don't know who you're talking to. I'm incredibly brave. Fearless, even. Ask anyone."

"I'm asking you, and you're lying."

"I am not lying. I have faced many dangerous situations in my life and emerged victorious every single time."

Jimin rolls her eyes. "Name one."

"I once killed a spider in my apartment that was the size of my hand."

"That doesn't count."

"It absolutely counts. That spider was a monster. It looked at me with malice in its eyes. I had to use a shoe and everything."

"You're proving my point."

"I am not. The point is that when properly prepared, mentally and physically, there is no animal on this earth that could scare me. I am a fortress of courage. An unshakeable pillar of—"

Something leaps out of the underbrush. It happens fast. A blur of movement, a flash of wet green, something small and quick launching itself toward your legs. You scream. It's high-pitched and utterly devoid of the courage you were just bragging about. Your body reacts before your brain can catch up, jerking backward, feet scrambling for purchase on the muddy path. Your left foot slides. Your right foot tries to compensate. Neither succeeds. You go down hard, ass-first into the mud with a wet, squelching thud.

The frog that caused this catastrophe hops away into the grass, completely unbothered. For a moment, you just sit there. Stunned. Covered in mud from the waist down, rain pouring onto your face, trying to process what just happened. Then Jimin starts laughing.

Not a polite chuckle. Not a restrained giggle. Full-body, doubled-over, tears-streaming laughter that shakes her entire frame. She's pointing at you, like a child who just witnessed the funniest thing in the history of comedy. "I was caught off guard, by the way," you say, trying to salvage some shred of dignity. "That's not fair. That doesn't count." She laughs harder, completely at your expense. “It could have been anything. A snake. A raccoon. A small bear." Jimin is wheezing now, bent over with her hands on her knees, struggling to breathe through the laughter. "This is a serious situation. I could have been badly hurt. I could have broken a leg. An arm. My spine.”

"Your face," she gasps out between laughs. "You should have seen your face."

"What about my face?"

"The fear." She straightens up slightly, mimics an exaggerated expression of horror. "Like you'd seen death itself."

"It was a large frog."

"It was a tiny frog."

"Size is relative." She dissolves into laughter again. You sit there in the mud, rain soaking through the seat of your pants, watching Yu Jimin, Karina of aespa, international superstar, laugh at you like you're the funniest thing she's ever seen. You should be annoyed. But you're smiling. You can't help it. Because she looks alive right now, alive in a way she hasn't since you met her."This is incredibly rude," you say. "I'm injured and traumatized and you're mocking me in Dolby Atmos. You're creating psychological damage in real time. Karina, my favorite idol, the woman I have supported since debut, is actively ridiculing me in my moment of weakness."

"I'm sorry," she says, still laughing. "I'm so sorry, it's just—it was so funny—you screamed like—"

"I did not scream."

"You absolutely screamed."

"I'm filing a complaint with your company."

She wipes tears from her eyes, still grinning. "I really am sorry. But I can't stop picturing it. The frog jumping and you just—" She mimes falling backward, makes a ridiculous sound effect.

"Are you done?" you ask. "Are you finished mocking me? Because I'm sitting in a puddle of mud and my dignity is hanging by a thread."

"I'm done." She takes a breath, tries to compose herself. "I'm done. I promise."

"Good." You extend your hand toward her. "Help me up." Jimin steps closer, reaching down. Her fingers wrap around yours.

You pull.

She yelps as her feet slide out from under her, balance completely gone, and then she's falling, landing in the mud beside you with a splat that sends brown water splattering across both of you. For a moment, she just stares at you. Mouth open. Eyes wide. Absolutely covered in mud.

You grin. “Guess the fun’s over, huh?”

"You did not just do that."

"I absolutely did."

"I was trying to help you!"

"Never trust strangers, that’s what they say.”

A slow narrowing of her eyes pins you in place; Okay, maybe you made a big mistake. "You shouldn't have done that," she says quietly.

"What are you going to—"

A handful of mud hits you square in the face. You sputter. Spit out grit. Wipe your eyes.

Jimin is already scooping up another handful, a wicked smile spreading across her face. "Oh no," you say. "No no no. You should not have done that. You have no idea what you've just started." You grab your own handful of mud. Cold and wet and absolutely disgusting. "This is war," you declare.

"Bring it on." She throws. You dodge (mostly). You throw back. She shrieks and retaliates.

And suddenly you're both scrambling in the mud, slipping and sliding and hurling handfuls of wet earth at each other like children. Jimin gets you in the chest. You get her in the shoulder. She tries to run and falls again, and you try to capitalize on her weakness but slip and go down beside her. You're laughing. She's laughing. The rain keeps falling and the mud keeps flying and somewhere in the chaos you lose track of who's winning because it doesn't matter anymore.

Jimin smears mud across your cheek with her palm. You retaliate by dumping a handful directly on top of her head. She gasps in outrage and tackles you, both of you rolling in the mud until you're completely unrecognizable, two brown figures wrestling on the shore of a grey lake while the storm rages overhead.

—

The towel is damp and your hair is still dripping slightly when you emerge from your bedroom, but you've given up on achieving actual dryness. Some battles aren't worth fighting. You're wearing sweatpants and a hoodie. Jimin is in the living room. She's standing by the couch with her own towel draped around her shoulders, running her fingers through wet hair that hangs in dark strands past her collarbone. She's changed into leggings and an oversized sweater. "That was a terrible idea," you say.

She looks up. Nods emphatically. "The worst idea. I spent thirty minutes in the shower trying to get mud out of places mud should never be."

"I found some in my ear. My ear. How does that even happen?"

"You fell face-first into a puddle at one point."

"I was pushed."

"You tripped over your own feet."

"Semantics." You toss your towel over the back of a chair and stretch your arms above your head, feeling your spine pop. "At least we've upgraded our immune systems. All that bacteria exposure has to be good for something."

"That's not how immune systems work."

"Are you a doctor?"

"No."

"Then how would you know?" Jimin rolls her eyes. She finishes squeezing water from her hair and drapes her own towel beside yours. "Are you hungry?" you ask.

"Starving."

"Great. Let's cook something." You head toward the kitchen with purpose, like a man who knows what he's doing. You do not, in fact, know what you're doing. The kitchen is a foreign country and you are an undocumented immigrant with no language skills. Jimin follows you, watching as you open the refrigerator and stare at its contents like they might spontaneously arrange themselves into a meal.

"What are you thinking?" she asks. "Pasta? Stir fry? There's chicken in there, we could do something with that."

"Yes," you say. "One of those. Whichever one requires the least... cooking."

She tilts her head. "Have you ever cooked before?"

"Define 'cooked.'"

"Prepared food using heat and ingredients."

"Then no."

Jimin stares at you. "You've never cooked anything? Ever? In your entire life?"

"I've made toast. Does that count?"

"Toast is not cooking."

"It involves heat. And bread. That's basically the same thing."

"It's really not." She moves past you, gently but firmly shouldering you aside to access the refrigerator. "Okay. I'll cook. You just... stay out of the way."

"I can help."

"No."

"I'm very capable. I run a company. I manage hundreds of employees."

"Can any of those skills fry an egg?"

"I could learn."

"Not tonight." She pulls out chicken, vegetables, a carton of eggs, various bottles and containers whose purposes you can only guess at. "Tonight you sit over there and let me handle this."

You retreat to the kitchen island, hoisting yourself onto one of the stools. "This feels emasculating."

"Good."

"What if I just hand you things? I can be your sous chef. I saw that on a cooking show once."

"You don't know what anything is called."

"I know some things. That's a pan." You point. "That's a spatula. That's..." You squint at a utensil she's holding. "Some kind of... stabbing implement?"

"It's a whisk."

"I was close."

Jimin sets the whisk down and begins organizing ingredients on the counter with efficiency. You watch her work, the way her hands move with confidence, the way she seems to know instinctively where everything should go. "Where did you learn to cook?" you ask.

"My mom. And necessity." She cracks eggs into a bowl, one-handed, smooth. "When I was a trainee, we didn't have money for delivery every night. If you wanted to eat something that wasn't instant ramen, you had to make it yourself."

"That sounds rough."

"It was fine. I like cooking, actually. It's relaxing." She glances at you. "When I'm not being watched by someone who doesn't know what a whisk is."

"I know what a whisk is now. You just told me."

"Do you want to try?"

"Try what?"

She holds out the whisk. "Beating the eggs. It's simple. Even you can't mess it up." You slide off the stool and take the whisk from her hand. The bowl of cracked eggs sits on the counter, yellow yolks floating in clear viscous liquid. You stick the whisk in and start moving it around. "Not like that," Jimin says immediately.

"What's wrong with this?"

"You're stirring. You need to beat. Like this." She steps closer, her hand closing over yours on the whisk handle. Her fingers are warm. "Faster. In a circular motion. You're incorporating air, not just mixing." You try to follow her guidance. The eggs slosh around in the bowl, looking more or less the same as before. "You're hopeless," she says, but she's smiling.

"I told you. I'm a businessman, not a chef."

"Most businessmen can still feed themselves."

"You’re so cruel sometimes."

She takes the whisk back, bumping you out of the way with her hip. "Go sit down. You're a hazard."

You return to your stool, watching as she takes over the egg-beating with movements that are quick and sure. Within seconds, the eggs are transformed into a uniform yellow mixture. "Show-off," you mutter.

"Competence isn't showing off."

"It is when you do it that fast."

The cooking continues. Jimin moves around the kitchen like she owns it, heating pans, chopping vegetables, seasoning things with pinches of this and dashes of that. You try to help twice more. The first time, you're assigned to wash vegetables and somehow manage to spray water all over the counter and yourself. The second time, you're asked to stir something on the stove and immediately turn the heat up too high, nearly burning the contents. "Out," Jimin says after the second incident. "Get out of my kitchen."

"Hey, it's technically my kitchen."

"Not anymore. I'm annexing it. This is my territory now."

You raise your hands in surrender and retreat to the living room, collapsing onto the couch. The rain continues outside while the house feels warm and enclosed. Forty minutes later, Jimin emerges with two plates. Some kind of rice dish with vegetables and chicken, topped with a fried egg. It smells incredible.

"This looks amazing," you say, accepting your plate.

"Don't sound so surprised."

"I'm not surprised. I'm impressed." You eat on the couch, plates balanced on your laps, the rain providing ambient soundtrack. The food is good. Really good. Possibly the best thing you've eaten in weeks, though that might be the hunger talking. "This is incredible," you say around a mouthful.

"Chew first. Compliment later."

"I can do both."

Jimin snorts and focuses on her own plate. After dinner (you handle dishes, since it's the one task you can manage without supervision), the evening stretches out ahead with nothing particular to fill it. The storm shows no signs of stopping. Your MacBook sits on the coffee table where you left it earlier, the screen dark, full of emails you don't want to read and spreadsheets you don't want to look at.

"Movie?" you suggest.

"Sure."

You scroll through the streaming options, arguing amiably about genres (she wants something light; you suggest a psychological thriller just to see her reaction) before settling on a comedy neither of you has seen. It's mediocre. You spend half of it making sarcastic commentary and the other half distracted by work, pulling the MacBook onto your lap to respond to emails that can't wait while Jimin curls up on the other end of the couch with a blanket she found in the closet. At some point, you look up from a particularly frustrating spreadsheet and realize two hours have passed. The movie is over. The credits are rolling. Jimin is fighting to keep her eyes open, head tilting dangerously toward the armrest.

"Hey." You close the laptop. "Bedtime."

She blinks. Straightens. "I wasn't sleeping."

"You were about to."

"I was resting my eyes."

"Sure." You both stand. Stretch. The house has grown quiet around you, just the rain and the occasional creak of old wood settling. The hallway to the bedrooms is dim, lit only by the light spilling from the living room behind you. You stop at your door. She stops at hers. Directly across the hall, maybe six feet apart. "I should warn you," you say, keeping your expression completely neutral. "There was a murder in this house."

Jimin's hand freezes on her door handle. "What?"

"Years ago. A whole family. They say the killer was never caught."

Her eyes narrow. "You're lying."

"I'm completely serious. So if you hear footsteps in the night, or see shadows moving, or feel something cold touch your shoulder while you're sleeping..."

"Stop."

"Just stay in your room. Don't investigate. That's how people die in horror movies. They hear a noise and they go toward it instead of away from it."

Jimin points at you. "If I can't sleep tonight because of this, I'm blaming you."

"Blame me all you want. I'll be in my room. Behind a locked door. Safe from the vengeful spirits that roam these halls."

"There are no vengeful spirits."

"That's what they want you to think."

She opens her door, shaking her head. "You're the worst."

"I know." You lean against your own doorframe. "Hey. Jimin." She pauses. Looks back at you. "I'm happy you're here," you say. "Today was strange. And wet. And I'm probably going to find mud in weird places for the next week. But it was also... nice. Really nice."

"Yeah," she says quietly. "It was."

"So. Goodnight."

"Goodnight."

You both just stand there for a second. Across the hall from each other, maybe six feet of space that feels like more. Neither of you moves. Then you step inside. Close the door. Lean back against it and just... breathe. The room's dark. Quiet. Empty. And you're thinking about today. About laughter and mud flying everywhere and screaming at a fucking lake until your throat hurt. About all of it.

You fall asleep easier than you have in months. No nightmares about board meetings or bankruptcy or watching everything crumble. Just sleep. Real sleep.

—

Morning takes its sweet time arriving, dragging itself through that grey half-light that seeps past the curtains. The rain's still going. Actually, scratch that, it's gotten worse overnight, upgraded from steady downpour to something that sounds like the lake house is under siege. The idea of leaving this bed, of exposing yourself to the cold air outside these blankets? That's asking a lot. That's asking for genuine courage. You stay put for a while. Just lying there with eyes tracing invisible patterns on the ceiling, letting the sound of the storm fill the space where thoughts should be.

Eventually, hunger wins out over laziness.

The kitchen smells like coffee when you shuffle in, still wearing the sweatpants and hoodie you slept in. Jimin is already there, perched on one of the stools at the island, both hands wrapped around a steaming mug. She's cocooned in blankets, layers of them draped over her shoulders and pooling around her on the stool, so only her face and fingers are visible. She looks ridiculous. She looks cozy. She looks unfairly cute for someone who's essentially transformed herself into a human burrito.

You grab a mug from the cabinet, pour yourself coffee from the pot she's already made, and lean against the counter. "Good morning."

"Morning." Her response is muffled, half-swallowed by a yawn.

"How'd you sleep?"

She takes a sip of coffee. Doesn't meet your eyes. "Not great."

Guilt flickers through you. "Look, I'm sorry about the murderer thing. I was just messing around. I didn't think it would actually keep you up."

"It wasn't that."

"No?"

"No."

You wait for her to elaborate. She doesn't. "Okay," you say, letting it go. Pushing won't help. You've learned that much about her in the short time you've known each other. "So what do you want to do today? I was thinking we could walk through the woods when the rain lets up. There are some trails behind the house that go pretty deep."

Jimin nods slowly. "That sounds good."

"Cool." You take a long drink of coffee, feeling the warmth spread through your chest. "What do you want for breakfast?"

She looks up at you. "You're not cooking."

"I could try."

"You'd burn the house down."

"That's a slight exaggeration."

"Is it? You almost set fire to the stove last night stirring vegetables."

"That was a learning experience."

"For everyone involved." She slides off the stool, blankets still wrapped around her like a cape, and starts moving toward the refrigerator. "I'll cook. Just tell me what you want."

"You don't have to. I can figure something out. There's probably cereal or something."

Jimin fixes you with a look. "If I don't cook for you, you'll starve. You literally cannot feed yourself. I've seen the evidence."

There's no arguing with that. You sigh. "Fine. Eggs? And toast. Whatever's easiest."

"Eggs and toast it is." She cooks. You stay out of her way, nursing your coffee and watching from a safe distance. The kitchen fills with the smell of butter and browning bread, domestic and warm, and you think about how strange this is. How comfortable. How much it feels like something that's been happening for years instead of hours. After breakfast, you head to the bathroom to clean up. You're standing at the sink, face covered in shaving foam, razor in hand, when Jimin appears in the doorway.

"I found new raincoats," she says, holding up two plastic-wrapped packages. "These ones actually look like they might fit. They were in the hall closet, buried under a bunch of—" She stops. Stares at your face. "You look like Santa Claus."

You glance at yourself in the mirror. The white foam does cover most of your lower face, spreading from cheek to cheek and down your neck. "Ho ho ho."

"That's disturbing. Never do that again."

"What, shave? I'll just grow a beard. Become a mountain man. Really commit to the living-off-the-land thing."

"Please don't." She steps into the bathroom, setting the raincoats on the counter. "Do you want help?"

You pause mid-stroke. "With shaving?"

"There are spots you can't see. The angle's weird." She holds out her hand. "Give me the razor."

"Have you ever done this before?"

"No."

"That's incredibly reassuring. Thank you. I feel very safe."

"Shut up and give me the razor." You hand it over. She moves closer, positioning herself in front of you, one hand coming up to tilt your chin toward the light. "Stay still," she instructs.

"If you cut my throat, I'm going to haunt you forever."

"Then don't move and you'll be fine." She brings the razor to your cheek. Draws it down in a slow, careful stroke, leaving smooth skin in its wake. Rinses the blade. Repeats. You hold very still.

It's strange, having someone this close to your face. Strange having someone else's hands on you like this, performing such an ordinary task with such focused attention. Jimin's brow is furrowed in concentration, her lower lip caught between her teeth as she navigates the curve of your jaw. "Tilt your head back," she says softly. You comply. She works on your neck, the blade gliding over your Adam's apple, and you're acutely aware of how much trust this requires. How vulnerable you are right now. One wrong move and she could open your jugular.

She doesn't make any wrong moves. "Turn this way." She guides your chin to the left. "I'm getting the sideburns."

"I didn't ask for sideburn maintenance."

"You're getting it anyway. They were uneven."

"They were not."

"They absolutely were. The left one was at least a centimeter longer than the right. It was bothering me."

"You were analyzing my sideburns?"

"I was trying not to stare at the Santa Claus foam beard. The sideburns were the only safe place to look." She finishes the left side, moves to the right. Her face is very close to yours now, close enough that you can see the faint freckle near her left eyebrow. "There." She steps back, surveying her work. "Done."

You turn to the mirror. Your face is smooth, cleanly shaved, better than you usually manage on your own. She got the spots you always miss, the tricky angles under your jaw, the patch near your ear that always gives you trouble. "Not bad," you admit.

"Not bad? That's perfect. I should quit being an idol and become a barber."

"The pay's probably worse."

"But the hours are better."

You splash water on your face, rinse away the last traces of foam. When you straighten up, Jimin is still there, watching you in the mirror. It's the most intimate thing you've experienced in a long time. A girl shaving your face. It shouldn't feel like much. But it does. "Thanks," you say.

She smiles. Just a little. "You're welcome."

The rain tapers off around noon, fading from downpour to drizzle to a fine mist. Good enough. You grab a small backpack from the hall closet, throw in a flashlight (the woods get dark even on bright days, and today is anything but), some bottles of water and some food (snacks). Jimin wears one of the new raincoats, forest green this time, properly fitted. You take the other one, navy blue.

The trail starts behind the house, a narrow dirt path that winds into the trees. Your footsteps are muffled by fallen leaves, soft sounds that disappear into the vastness of the forest. For a while, neither of you speaks. Just walks. The silence is comfortable, companionable, broken only by birdsong and the drip of water from branches overhead. "This is absurd," you say eventually.

Jimin glances at you. "What is?"

"This. Us. Two strangers walking through a forest in the middle of nowhere. Alone. And it feels... normal. Like we've been doing this for years."

She's quiet for a moment. Considering. "I feel really comfortable," she admits. "Being here. With you."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah." She steps over a fallen branch, her raincoat rustling. "You don't ask questions."

"I ask plenty of questions."

"Not the ones I don't want to answer." She looks at you sideways. "I like that about you. You let me have my silence. You don't push."

"I push sometimes."

"Not really. Not about the important things." She pulls her hood up against the mist. "Most people, when they find out someone's struggling, they want to fix it. They want to give advice, offer solutions, tell you it's going to be okay. They mean well, but it's exhausting. It makes you feel like your pain is a problem to be solved instead of just... experienced."

You nod slowly. "I get that."

"Do you?"

"Yeah." You kick a pinecone off the trail, watch it roll into the underbrush. "I understand you completely. We're alike, you and me."

Jimin raises an eyebrow. "We're nothing alike."

"We're very alike. I don't have hair as beautiful as yours, obviously. That's unfair. Genetics failed me there. But inside..." You tap your chest. "In here. We're similar. Same kind of broken. Same kind of lost."

She doesn't respond immediately. The trail curves ahead, winding between two massive oaks whose branches interlock overhead like fingers. "You say you know what I'm going through," she says finally. "How? How could you know?"

"Because I've seen it before."

"Seen what?"

"Someone losing themselves. Forgetting who they are underneath everything else. Getting so caught up in what everyone expects them to be that they can't remember what they actually want."

Jimin stops walking. Turns to face you fully. "Who? Who did you see that with?"

You study her face. The curiosity there, the hunger for understanding. She wants to know. Needs to know, maybe, because she's hoping your answer will tell her something about herself.

You smile. "I'll answer that."

"Okay."

"If you can catch me."

Her expression shifts. Confusion first, then realization. "What do you mean?"

You point ahead, where the trail opens into a small clearing and, beyond it, the dark mouth of a cave carved into a rocky hillside. "There's a cave over there. If you get there before me, I'll tell you everything."

"That's not fair. You have longer legs."

"Then you'd better start running." You take off down the trail.

"Wait!" Jimin shouts. "That's cheating! You didn't even count down!"

You don't wait. You just bolt.

Behind you, Jimin curses, and then you hear her footsteps pounding after you. She's fast. Way faster than you expected for someone having an existential crisis. The forest blurs into streaks of green, brown and grey, mist hitting your face, and you're laughing. Actually fucking laughing, breathless and stupid, running through the woods like you're ten years old again.

She's gaining on you. You can hear her breathing, hear her laughing too. "I'm catching you!" she yells. "And then you're telling me everything!"

"Gotta earn it first!"

The cave's getting closer. Trees thinning out. Your legs are burning but you push harder.

You run. Then a duck happens. A goddamn duck.

It explodes out of the bushes with this aggressive-ass quack, wings flapping everywhere, and you stumble sideways. Your foot catches a root. Your momentum dies instantly. By the time you catch yourself, Jimin's already blown past you at a speed that would make Olympic sprinters jealous.

She touches the rock face with her palm, spins around, and throws her arms up in victory. "I won!"

You stagger up behind her, hands on your knees, gasping for air. "That doesn't count. There was a duck."

"A duck?"

"It attacked me."

"It quacked at you. From ten feet away."

"Aggressively. It quacked aggressively." You straighten up, pressing a hand to your side where a stitch is forming. “You’d be surprised how many people get killed by ducks every year. Absolute menaces. Anyway, I demand a rematch."

"No way. I won fair and square." She's breathing hard too, cheeks flushed from the run. "You owe me answers now."

"Fine." You gesture toward the cave mouth: a dark opening in the hillside about eight feet wide and maybe six feet tall. "But let's go inside first. I want to show you something." You click on the flashlight and lead the way in. The cave isn't deep, maybe thirty feet before it narrows to nothing, but the ceiling is high enough to stand comfortably, and the walls are dry despite the rain outside. "I used to play here with my cousins," you say, sweeping the flashlight beam across the walls. "When we were kids. We'd pretend it was a fortress. A pirate hideout. A secret base for our spy operations."

The light catches something on the far wall. Scribbles. Crude drawings scratched into the rock with sharp stones. Stick figures with oversized heads. A wobbly boat on wavy lines that might be water. Names and initials surrounded by hearts, the kind of thing kids carve when they're young enough to think love is simple.

"Cave paintings," Jimin says softly.

"Our contribution to human artistic history." You trace the flashlight over a terrible rendition of what might be a dog or possibly a horse. "I made that one. I was seven. I thought it was a masterpiece."

"What is it supposed to be?"

"A dragon."

She squints at it. "I don't see it."

"Yeah, nobody ever did."

You set the backpack down near the wall and lower yourself to the ground, your back against the stone. The floor is cold through your pants, but not unbearably so. You unzip the bag and start pulling out its contents. Snacks. Lots of them. Chips in various flavors, chocolate bars, gummy candies, dried fruit, the honey butter cookies she mentioned loving during some variety show you watched. You spread them out between you like a picnic.

Jimin settles down across from you, cross-legged, eyes widening as she takes in the selection. "You packed all of this?"

"I figured we might get hungry."

"These are all my favorites."

"Are they? Weird coincidence."

She gives you a look that says she knows exactly what you did, but she doesn't call you out on it. Just reaches for the honey butter cookies and tears open the package. "Okay," she says, chewing. "I won. Tell me everything."

You pick up a chocolate bar. Unwrap it slowly. Take a bite, letting the silence stretch.

"You've been an idol since you were young," you say. "Trainee years, debut, all of it. You were, what, sixteen when you started? Seventeen?"

"Around there."

"No one that young is prepared for what you went through. What you're still going through." You break off another piece of chocolate. "I'm not saying this to be mean. I'm saying it because it's true. If I had been in your position at that age, I would have cracked a lot sooner than you did. The routine. The pressure. The cameras, the fans, the expectations. And on top of all that, there's this persona you have to maintain. Karina. This perfect, polished version of yourself that exists for public consumption. But that's not really you, is it? That's a character. A role you play." She's very still now. The cookie in her hand forgotten. "And then there's Jimin. The real you. The person underneath the makeup and the choreography and the carefully managed public image. The girl who likes honey butter cookies and doesn't know how to fish and laughs until she cries when someone falls in mud."

A tiny smile flickers at the corner of her mouth. Gone almost immediately.

"The problem is, you have to switch between them constantly. Jimin at home, Karina on stage, Jimin with friends, Karina in interviews. Back and forth, over and over, every single day. And I can imagine..." You pause, choosing your words carefully. "I can imagine there comes a point where the switching gets exhausting. Where it starts to feel pointless. Why bother going back to being Jimin if tomorrow you'll just have to be Karina again? Why not just stay Karina all the time? It's easier. It's simpler. It's what everyone wants anyway." Jimin's hands have tightened around the cookie package. The plastic crinkles. "So you do that. You stay Karina. For days, weeks, months. You let Jimin fade into the background because it's just too hard to keep pulling her back. And then one day, you need her. Something happens and you need to be yourself, really yourself, and you reach for Jimin and she's not there." You meet her eyes. "You can't find your way back. You look in the mirror and you don't recognize the person staring at you. You don't know who you are anymore. What you want. What you're supposed to be."

"How do you know all that?" Jimin whispers.

"Because I've been there. I've watched it happen." You take another bite of chocolate, chew slowly. "To myself."

"You?"

"Me. Different circumstances, same result." You lean your head back against the stone. "My job requires me to be someone I'm not. All the time. I deal with people I can't stand, people who are shallow and greedy and only care about money. And I smile at them. I shake their hands, I laugh at their jokes, I pretend to be one of them because that's what the job demands. That's how you survive in my world."

"That sounds awful."

"It is. But I got good at it. Too good. I wore the mask so often that I forgot what my real face looked like underneath." You pause. "There was a period, maybe two years ago, where I genuinely couldn't tell the difference anymore. Between the person I was pretending to be and the person I actually was. I'd lost myself completely. But that's what I am… Underneath all the pretending. I'm just a guy who likes going into caves to eat snacks with strangers." You gesture at the space around you, at her. "A stranger who happens to be the it girl of Korea. Which is kind of surreal, honestly. But here we are."

You reach over and tap her shoulder gently with your knuckles.

"You'll find your way back to who you are. I know you will. But here's the thing." You hold her gaze. "You're the one who creates it. You're the one who decides who Jimin is. Not SM, not the fans, not the media. You. And if you don't know who that is right now, that's okay. You get to figure it out. You get to make it up as you go."

"How?" She asks with evident desperation. "I'm so lost. Every day I feel less and less like a real person. Like I'm fading away and no one notices because Karina is still there, performing, smiling, doing all the things she's supposed to do. But inside there's just... nothing."

"Then start with nothing." You open a bag of jelly beans and offer it to her. "What do you want right now? In this exact moment?"

"I don't know."

"Do you want to be on stage?"

"No."

"Do you want to be in Seoul?"

"No."

"Do you want to be anywhere other than this cave, eating snacks with a guy you barely know?"

She hesitates. Thinks about it. "No."

"Then you already have what you want. Right now, in this moment, you want nothing. You want to just... exist. Without expectations. Without pressure. And look." You spread your arms. "You're in a cave in the middle of nowhere. That's pretty close to nothing. That's about as far from Karina as you can get." She takes a jelly bean. Red one. Pops it in her mouth. "Tomorrow you might want something different," you continue. "The day after that, something else. And that's fine. That's how it's supposed to work. You don't have to figure out your entire identity in one afternoon. You just have to find the will to keep looking. To keep hoping that the pieces will eventually fit together." You shrug. "That's how we survive. One day at a time. One want at a time."

Jimin chews slowly. Swallows. Reaches for another jelly bean.

"But here's the important part," you say, and your tone shifts, becomes more serious. "Don't go alone. You have people who love you. Family, friends, the other members. People who care about Jimin, not just Karina. Let them help you."

"They wouldn't understand."

"Maybe not perfectly. But they'd try." You pause. "And if you really can't bring yourself to turn to them, then turn to me. I'm just a stranger. A shadow that passed through your life at some random point. Sometimes that's all we need. Someone with no expectations, no history, no stake in who you're supposed to be."

She looks at you. "A shadow?"

"Yeah." You pick at the wrapper of your chocolate bar. "That's what I am. Empty. No form of my own. I just darken the people around me. Cast gloom wherever I go."

"That's not true."

"It's a little true. Ask anyone who works for me." You smile, but it's thin. "But with you... I want to be different. I want to be the kind of shadow you can hide behind. A place where nothing can reach you. Where no one can touch you or demand anything from you." You meet her eyes. "For as long as you want. However long you need. You can stay hidden behind me, and I'll keep everything else out."

Jimin doesn't say anything for a long time. Processing. You let her have that moment. Until finally she asks: "What am I to you? If you're a shadow, what does that make me?"

You think about it. The question deserves a real answer.

"The moon," you say.

"The moon?"

"Right now, you feel distant. Untouchable. Like you're a million miles away from everyone, even from yourself. And maybe you feel like your light has gone out. Like whatever used to make you shine has faded. But you're still shining. Even if you don't realize it. It's softer now, yeah. Quieter. But it's there. I can see it." You gesture at her. "And I like it. I like this glow better, honestly. It's not blinding. It's not overwhelming. It's the kind of light that enhances things. That makes the darkness easier to bear... The night we met, you were like a girl sitting on the moon. So far away. So alone. But even then, you were beautiful. Even crying on that bench, you were the most beautiful thing I'd ever seen." You laugh quietly. "And after that, I went back to that same bench every night for a week. Just sat there by myself, hoping you'd appear again. Like a complete idiot."

When you look at Jimin, there are tears in her eyes. "Hey." You lean forward, concerned. "Are you okay? Did I say something wrong? I'm sorry, I talk too much when I'm nervous, I didn't mean to—"

"How can you be so stupid and so intelligent at the same time?" she interrupts.

You pause. "I... don't know if I should be flattered or offended by that."

"Both." A tear spills over, tracking down her cheek. She wipes it away impatiently with the back of her hand. "Be both."

"Okay. I'll work on that."

She laughs, wet and shaky, and takes another handful of jelly beans. "Thank you. For saying all of that. I liked it. Even if it made me cry like an idiot."

"Crying doesn't make you an idiot. Punching mirrors makes you an idiot. You're fine." She laughs. A real one this time, not that sad half-laugh from before, and reaches for the honey butter cookies. So here's the thing about dumping all your feelings in a cave: afterward, it just gets quiet. Not weird quiet. Just regular quiet. You're sitting there with the flashlight between you, surrounded by empty chip bags and candy wrappers, staring at the dumb drawings you scratched into the rock as a kid. Neither of you says anything. Neither of you needs to.

But you can't sit here forever. At some point, you start cleaning up. Grabbing wrappers, shoving empty bags into the backpack. You're kind of obsessive about it, actually - checking every corner, making sure you get every piece of trash, every crumb.

"You're very thorough," Jimin observes, watching you hunt down a stray chocolate wrapper that's trying to escape into a crevice.

"Mother Nature and I have an understanding. I don't pollute her forests, she doesn't send bears to maul me in my sleep."

"I don't think that's how ecology works."

"I prefer not to test the theory."

The backpack zipped, you stand and stretch, feeling your spine crack in several places that probably shouldn't crack. The cave has gotten colder, or maybe you've just noticed it now that you're not distracted by existential conversations about identity and moonlight. "We should head back," you say. "I fancy some hot chocolate."

Jimin rises to her feet, brushing dirt from her raincoat. "By that, you mean you want me to make you hot chocolate."

"What? No. I can make hot chocolate myself. I'm not completely helpless."

She tilts her head and studies you… Yeah, she's definitely reviewing the evidence of the past thirty-six hours. "I find myself unfortunately skeptical," she says.

The honest truth is that she's probably right. Hot chocolate involves heating milk, which involves using the stove, which involves not setting things on fire. Your track record in that department is not encouraging. "Well," you say, with as much dignity as you can muster, "perhaps I'll supervise while you demonstrate the proper technique."

"Supervise."

"Offer moral support. Quality control. That sort of thing."

The corner of her mouth twitches. She doesn't argue further. You're about to head toward the cave entrance when Jimin goes still. Her eyes fix on something just past your shoulder. Then she steps toward you. Close. Very close.

Your heart immediately races. Your brain, helpful as ever, immediately begins cataloguing the distance between your mouth and hers (approximately four inches), the angle of her face (tilted slightly upward), and the probable softness of her lips (considerable, based on visual evidence). She's going to kiss you, you think. Or possibly you're going to kiss her. Someone is going to kiss someone, that much seems certain, and you should probably—

Her hand reaches past your shoulder and taps you lightly on the back.

"Spider," she says.

You nearly leave your skin.

What emerges from your mouth is not a word, exactly. More of a strangled yelp. You jerk away from her, spinning around, your hands doing that frantic brushing motion that accomplishes nothing except making you look like you're having some sort of episode. "Where?! Where is it?! Is it on me?! Is it still on me?!"

"It's gone," she says, giggling. "I flicked it off. Relax, it was just a small one."

"Small spiders are the most dangerous ones. Everyone knows that. The smaller the spider, the more concentrated the venom."

"That's not scientifically accurate."

"I don't care about accuracy, I care about not dying."

She's properly laughing now, the same bright unrestrained sound you heard during the mud fight. It's a good sound. You'd be enjoying it more if you weren't still vibrating with residual panic. "You're like a frightened kitten," she says. "So tough about bears, but one tiny spider and you completely fall apart."

"I am not a frightened kitten. A spider the size of a frisbee would scare anyone."

"It was the size of my fingernail."

"Size is irrelevant. Deadliness is what matters."

She eyes you with amusement, smiling. "Why are you so red?"

Ah. Yes. That would be the blood that rushed to your face approximately thirty seconds ago when you thought you were about to be kissed. The blood that's still there, betraying you, making your cheeks feel like they're radiating heat. "Allergic reaction," you say immediately. "To the spider. My skin is extremely sensitive. Delicate, really. Like a Victorian-era duchess. I've always had this condition."

Jimin's eyebrow rises slowly. She doesn't look even slightly convinced. "A Victorian-era duchess, huh?"

"Yes. It's genetic." You rub your hands together, partly because they actually are cold and partly because you need something to do that isn't looking directly at her face while lying badly about the source of your blush. "It's colder than I expected," you say, desperate to change the subject. "I'm genuinely surprised neither of us got hypothermia yesterday. All that rolling around in the mud. Very irresponsible, in retrospect."

Jimin watches you fumble for another moment. Then, without ceremony, she reaches out and takes your hand. Her fingers interlock with yours. Palm to palm. A simple gesture, completely natural. At least, that’s how Jimin makes it look. "Come on," she says. "Let's go back. I'll warm your hand on the way." A pause. "No running this time."

What needs to be understood about this moment is that you are, fundamentally, not a person who holds hands. You're not a person who does casual physical intimacy. In your experience, touch is either transactional (handshakes, back-pats) or romantic (which requires intention and buildup and usually alcohol). This middle ground, this easy, uncomplicated contact, is foreign territory.

And yet… "Okay," you murmur.

Her hand is small in yours. Delicate in a way that makes you hyperaware of your own roughness, the calluses on your palm from gym equipment you barely use anymore, the healing scars across your knuckles from your ill-advised confrontation with interior glass. Her fingers are cool at first, but they warm quickly, or maybe your hand warms them, or maybe the warmth is coming from somewhere else entirely. You walk out of the cave together. The rain has stopped completely now, leaving the forest dripping and fresh, every surface gleaming with moisture. The path back to the house stretches through the trees, dappled with grey light, and you follow it slowly. No running. No racing. Just walking, side by side, hands clasped between you.

Neither of you says much. There's nothing that needs saying.

—

Later that night, the house has settled into that particular brand of quiet that only exists in remote places. No traffic noise, no neighbours, no ambient hum of civilization. Just the creak of old wood, the whisper of wind against windows, and the distant rumble of thunder from a storm that's circling somewhere beyond the mountains. Jimin is yawning in the hallway, dressed in pajamas that are somehow both sensible and unfairly attractive. Soft cotton, pale blue, slightly too long in the sleeves. Her hair is loose around her shoulders, still slightly damp from whatever evening routine she's completed, and she looks like someone who's ready to surrender to unconsciousness.

"Goodnight," she says, her hand on her bedroom door.

"Goodnight," you reply.

She opens the door. Steps inside. You follow her. She turns, eyebrow rising in that way you're beginning to recognize as her default expression of mild incredulity. "What are you doing?"

"Coming in."

"I can see that. Why?"

You move past her into the room, which is tidier than you expected. Her suitcase sits in the corner, mostly unpacked. A sweater draped over the chair. The bed turned down, waiting.

"I thought I'd keep you company," you say. "Until you fall asleep."

"I'm not a child."

"I never said you were."

"Then why do you think I need someone to tuck me in?"

You're not looking at her. You're scanning the bookshelf built into the wall near the window, running your fingers along spines that haven't been touched in years. Children's books, mostly. Relics from a time when this room hosted cousins and nieces and nephews, when the house was full of noise and laughter instead of dust and silence. "You said you didn't sleep well last night," you say, still searching. "And you wouldn't tell me why." Jimin is silent. "I'm not asking you to tell me now, either. But I thought..." You find what you're looking for and pull it from the shelf. "I thought this might help."

She stares at the book in your hands. It's thin, the cover worn soft with age, illustrated with a girl in a blue dress and three bears of varying sizes. "Goldilocks," she says flatly.

"A classic of Western literature."

"You want to read me Goldilocks."

"My grandmother used to read it to me when I was small. When I couldn't sleep. When things felt too big and too scary." You turn the book over in your hands, tracing the faded illustration on the back. "I'm not saying it'll work for you. But it can't hurt to try."

Thunder rumbles outside. The windows rattle faintly in their frames. "This is absurd," she says.

"Probably."

"You're going to sit there and read me a children's story."

"That's the plan."

"Like I'm five years old."

"I won't judge your age. I'm barely functional myself."

She hesitates for another moment. Then, with a sigh that suggests she's humoring you against her better judgment, she climbs into bed. The covers come up to her chin, white duvet swallowing her small frame. You settle onto the edge of the mattress, back against the headboard, book in hand. The lamp on the nightstand casts a warm circle of light, leaving the rest of the room in comfortable shadow.

"Once upon a time," you begin, "there was a little girl named Goldilocks."

"Original name."

"Hush. I'm reading." You clear your throat. "She went for a walk in the forest. Pretty soon, she came upon a house. She knocked and, when no one answered, she walked right in."

"Breaking and entering."

"It was a different time. Less security-conscious." You turn the page. "At the table in the kitchen, there were three bowls of porridge. Goldilocks was hungry. She tasted the porridge from the first bowl. 'This porridge is too hot!' she exclaimed." Jimin's eyes are on your face now, watching you read with an expression you can't quite decode. "So she tasted the porridge from the second bowl. 'This porridge is too cold,' she said. So she tasted the last bowl of porridge. 'Ahhh, this porridge is just right,' she said happily, and she ate it all up."

You pause. Lower the book slightly.

"Now, here's what I don't understand."

Jimin groans. "Oh no."

"Three bowls of porridge. Same batch, presumably. Made at the same time, served at the same table. How is it possible that one is too hot, one is too cold, and one is just right? They should all be the same temperature."

"It's a children's story."

"I understand that. But the physics don't make sense. Unless—" You hold up a finger. "Unless the bowls are made of different materials with different heat retention properties. Papa Bear's bowl is ceramic, holds heat longer. Mama Bear's bowl is metal, conducts heat away faster. Baby Bear's bowl is wood, perfect insulation."

"You're overthinking this."

You grin and continue reading. The three chairs, the three beds, Goldilocks's continued disregard for personal property. But you can't help yourself. Every few paragraphs, another observation emerges. "Why is Baby Bear's chair so small that it breaks under a child's weight? That's a safety hazard. Someone should report the manufacturer." Jimin pulls the covers over her face. "And another thing. The bears come home and immediately notice the porridge has been disturbed. But they don't smell a human intruder in their house? Bears have exceptional olfactory senses. They should have detected Goldilocks from the moment they walked through the door."

"Please stop."

"I'm just saying, the internal logic—"

"The internal logic is that it's a story for children who don't care about porridge thermodynamics or bear olfaction." Jimin pulls the covers down just enough to glare at you. "Just finish the story. Without commentary. I'm begging you."

"Fine," you say. "No more interruptions."

"Promise?"

"Cross my heart." As promised, you finish the story without any more interruptions. Then you flip to a different book. Little Red Riding Hood. Another classic. "Once upon a time," you begin again, "there lived in a certain village a little country girl..."

This time, you don't interrupt. You read the story the way it's meant to be read, letting the words flow without commentary, without analysis. The girl in the red hood. The path through the woods. The wolf with his clever tongue and hungry eyes. The grandmother's cottage with its strange occupant in the bed.

What big eyes you have. What big ears you have. What big teeth you have.

Jimin's breathing slows. Her body relaxes into the mattress, tension bleeding out of her shoulders. Her eyes grow heavy, then heavier, then finally close. You finish the story anyway. The huntsman, the rescue, the happily ever after. You're not sure if she hears the ending or if she's already drifted too far into sleep to catch it.

You finish the story and close the book. Gentle, so you don't wake her. Set it on the nightstand.

You look at her face in the lamplight. She's out. Her face is completely relaxed. Peaceful. You haven't seen her look like this since you met her.

The rain keeps going outside, but she's dead to the world.

You reach over and turn off the lamp.

—

Morning arrives with the same grey light as yesterday. The same rain. The same cold. Not that you're complaining, really. You’re starting to get used to the place’s melancholic, desolate atmosphere. There’s a bleak, nihilistic charm to it that’s hard to ignore.

Jimin is in the living room when you emerge, curled into the corner of the sofa with a mug clasped between her palms. She's wrapped in that same blanket from yesterday.

You pour yourself coffee from the pot she's made. Take a sip. Let the warmth spread through your chest. "Good morning."

"Morning." She shifts slightly, making room on the sofa, though there's plenty of space already.

"How'd you sleep?" And here's where you expect the usual deflection. The vague answer, the change of subject, the careful maintenance of boundaries. But instead, Jimin tilts her head and actually considers the question.

"Well, actually," she says. "Really well. I didn't wake up exhausted for once."

You settle onto the opposite end of the sofa, mirroring her position. Feet tucked up, body angled toward the centre, a careful distance maintained between.

"The Goldilocks technique," you say. "Scientifically proven to induce restful sleep."

"Or the fact that you read it so slowly I passed out from boredom."

"My pacing was deliberate. It's called dramatic tension."

"It's called you don't know how to read without stopping to argue with the text." You concede the point with a shrug and drink more coffee. The rain continues its assault on the windows. Inside, the house feels warm and enclosed, a bubble of safety floating in an ocean of grey. The fire you lit last night has burned down to embers, casting a faint orange glow that doesn't quite reach the corners of the room.

"What's the situation with work?" Jimin asks, nodding toward the MacBook sitting closed on the coffee table.

You follow her gaze. The laptop looks deceptively innocent sitting there, like it isn't a portal to your slowly imploding professional life. "Still a mess," you say. "The numbers haven't magically improved overnight. The investors are still pulling out, you know, the usual." You take another sip of coffee. "But I've decided not to look at it until after the meeting. Whatever's going to happen is going to happen whether I obsess over spreadsheets or not."

"That's very zen of you."

"I'm trying something new. It's called 'strategic denial.'"

Jimin smiles into her mug. "What about today?" she asks. "Any plans?"

You consider the question. Outside, the rain shows no sign of letting up. The lake will be churning, the paths muddy, the woods unwelcoming. Not exactly ideal conditions for outdoor activities. "I wanted to make a campfire," you admit. "Roast some marshmallows. But in this weather… Not really feasible."

"Can you even make a campfire?"

"Theoretically. I understand the basic principles. Wood, fire, not dying."

"That's not very specific."

"I contain multitudes of vague competencies."

You shift position, tucking your feet further under you, and find yourself talking without quite meaning to. "Did you know I fell into a bonfire when I was a child?"

"My God. Where did this happen?"

"At a family gathering. I was maybe six or seven. Someone had built this big fire on the beach, and I was running around not paying attention, and I just..." You mime tripping. "Went right in. Second-degree burns on my hands and knees. My mother nearly had a heart attack."

"That's horrifying."

"It was mostly embarrassing, honestly. Everyone made a huge fuss, and I had to wear bandages for weeks, and my cousins called me 'fireball' for the rest of the summer.” You pause. “I also almost drowned once. At a pool party when I was twelve. Jumped into the deep end without knowing how to swim properly. Had to be rescued by a lifeguard in front of everyone." Jimin stares at you. "Sometimes I'm genuinely surprised I survived to adulthood. The odds were not in my favour."

She's looking at you weird. Or not weird, exactly, but you can't quite figure out what the expression is. Her eyes are bright, almost shiny, and there's this thing happening with her mouth. The corners are turning up.

She's smiling. And it's a smile you've never seen on her before.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" you ask.

"Like what?"

"Like... that." You gesture at her face. "With the smiling."

"Am I not allowed to smile anymore?" She raises an eyebrow. "Does it bother you?"

"Yes, actually. A bit."

"My smile bothers you."

"I can't look at you when you're doing that." You find yourself staring at your coffee mug instead. "It's distracting. You're easier to deal with when you're crying. All pathetic, with snot coming out of your nose."

The pillow hits you square in the face. "I did not have snot coming out of my nose."

"You absolutely did." You catch the pillow before it can fall, hold it against your chest. "That first night, on the bench. There was definitely nasal discharge. Very attractive.”

"I'm going to kill you."

"See, this is what I mean. Murderous anger is much easier to handle than whatever that smile was."

She's moving before you realize what's happening. One moment she's at her end of the sofa, the next she's crossing the distance between you, blanket abandoned, and you don't know what she's going to do. Hit you, maybe. Smother you with another pillow, who knows.

But what Jimin does is completely different from what you might expect: her knees settle on either side of your hips, her hands bracing against your shoulders, and suddenly you're lying back against the sofa cushions with Yu Jimin straddling your body, looking down at you with an expression that's no longer angry at all.

"We don't have to do anything today," she says quietly. You open your mouth. Nothing comes out. Your hands hover uselessly in the air, unsure where to land, unsure what's allowed. "I just want to be with you," she continues. "Like this. Is that okay?"

And then she kisses you. The barest press of her lips against yours, tentative and questioning and achingly sweet. She tastes like coffee, and your hands finally find their place on her waist, settling against the curve of her body. The kiss ends. She pulls back just far enough to look at you with her hair falling around both your faces.

"You just kissed a stranger," you murmur.

"I know." She's smiling again, that same smile that you couldn't look at before, except now it's inches from your face and impossible to avoid. "It was very good."

She settles against you, her head finds the curve of your shoulder. Your arms wrap around her automatically, pulling her closer, and she makes a small sound of contentment. "You said I could hide behind you," she murmurs against your neck. "But I think I prefer this. Hiding in your arms."

"That works too."

You lie there together, tangled on the sofa, rain drumming against the windows, and for a long moment, neither of you speaks. There's nothing that needs saying. Just the warmth of her body, the rhythm of her breathing, the impossible fact of this moment existing at all. But the thought surfaces anyway. The one you've been pushing down since the cave, since the forest, since the moment she took your hand and started walking.

"You know none of this is real," you say quietly, and Jimin goes still against you. "You're an idol. One of the most famous women in the country. And I'm… I'm a businessman on the verge of bankruptcy. This can't exist. Outside of here. In the real world."

She lifts her head. Looks at you. "I know," she says. "Nothing this good could be real."

"Then why—"

"Because we're here to pretend." She kisses you again and your hands tighten on her waist involuntarily. "Remember? That's what you said. We'd pretend together. That our problems can't reach us. That the outside world doesn't exist."

"I remember."

"So let's pretend this is real too." Her forehead rests against yours. "Just for now. Just while we're here. Let me have this."

You don’t resist. You know better, but you still don’t argue "Okay," you say. "We'll pretend." She smiles. Settles back against your chest. Your arms tighten around her, and she sighs, and the sound is the closest thing to peace you've heard in months.

Here's something you've never told anyone: you don't actually know what love feels like. You've had relationships. Girlfriends who lasted months or years, who shared your bed and your time and eventually your boredom. But love? That consuming, transformative thing that poets write about? You've always assumed it was exaggeration. Metaphor. A beautiful lie people tell themselves to make the mundane feel meaningful.

But lying here with Jimin's heartbeat pressed against your ribs and her breath warm on your neck, something changes. It's not dramatic. No fireworks, no movie moment. It's just... you can't tell where your body ends and hers starts anymore. Her breathing matches yours. Her heartbeat syncs up with the rhythm in your chest. You're this close, this tangled up together, and for the first time in your life you understand what people mean when they talk about feeling complete.

This is probably what love feels like

—

Yes, what you're thinking eventually happened.

You and Jimin spent the day together. All of it. The cooking lessons she insisted on giving you, standing at the stove with her arms around you from behind, guiding your hands through the motions of chopping and stirring and not setting things on fire. You made a spectacular mess. Flour on the counters, sauce splattered across the backsplash, something that might have been an egg but ended up more on the floor than in the bowl. But you also made progress. Actual, measurable progress. By evening, you'd produced something edible. Not good, exactly. But edible. Jimin ate it anyway, and the look on her face when she swallowed was only slightly pained.

And then there was the rest of it. The parts that don't need narrating. The parts you can probably imagine if you've been paying attention to the story. The parts that happened after dinner, and then again after midnight, and then once more in the grey hours before dawn.

Which brings us here. The next morning.

You're in bed together, sheets tangled around your legs. The storm hasn't stopped. You're beginning to think it never will. That you've been transported to some alternate dimension where the sun is a myth and the only weather that exists is this endless, drumming wet.

Jimin is lying beside you, wearing nothing but white cotton panties and a thin tank top. Her nipples press against the fabric, visible outlines that draw your eye every time you try to look elsewhere. Her hair is spread across the pillow in dark waves, messy from sleep and from everything that came before sleep, and there's a mark on her collarbone that you don't remember making but are reasonably certain is your fault.

Your finger traces a slow line along her bare thigh. From knee to hip and back again. Her skin so soft, warm from the cocoon of blankets, and she shivers slightly when your touch skirts too close to the edge of her underwear. "I wish I knew how to draw," you say.

Jimin turns her head on the pillow, looking at you through half-lidded eyes. "Why?"

"So I could draw you. Right now. Like this." Your finger continues its lazy path, up and down, up and down. "That would be romantic, wouldn't it? The tortured artist capturing his muse in charcoal and shadow."

"You'd probably draw me with three arms and a head shaped like a potato."

She's not wrong. You've never had any talent for visual arts. Your handwriting looks like a seismograph reading during an earthquake, and the one time you tried to sketch something in college, your girlfriend at the time asked if it was supposed to be a horse or a pile of laundry. “Babe, you’ve gotta trust me a little more,” you say. “Still… you’re not wrong.”

"Is there anything you actually know how to do with your hands?" Jimin asks, light, teasing. "Cooking, no. Drawing, apparently not. What skills do you possess?"

You shift closer to her, your hand sliding higher on her thigh, fingers dipping beneath the hem of her tank top to trace along her hip bone. "I don't want to brag," you say, "but you seemed to enjoy what I did with my hands yesterday. And last night. And this morning, around three a.m."

Her breath catches slightly. Just a small hitch, barely noticeable, but you're paying attention. "Conceited," she murmurs.

"Confident."

She rolls toward you, her body pressing against yours, and then she's climbing on top of you, knees settling on either side of your hips, hands bracing against your chest. The tank top rides up, exposing the flat plane of her stomach, the delicate curve of her waist. And when she leans down to kiss you, you taste sleep and warmth. "Conceited," Jimin repeats against your lips. She tilts her head, searching your face. "What do you think of me?" she asks quietly. "After everything I told you last night?"

And there it is. The things she said in the dark, when the barriers were down and the words came easier. Things you won't repeat, not here, not now. They belong to her, those truths. You're just the vessel she chose to pour them into. "I think..." You reach up, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, letting your hand linger against her cheek. "I think there are more questions in the answers. I think you're more complicated than you let anyone see. I think you've been carrying weight that no one person should have to carry alone."

Your hand slides down, tracing the line of her jaw, her neck, her shoulder. Down her arm and back up again, mapping the geography of her body. "I wish I could do more for you," you say. "Fix things. Make it better. Be more than just..." She knows what you mean. The room, the rain, the strange, unlikely bubble you ended up creating together. "This."

"What is this?"

"One last day,” and it tastes bitter saying it. True, but still bitter. "That's all I can give you. Tomorrow I have to go back. The meeting. The board. The slow-motion car crash of my professional life."

"That's all I want," she says, tracing random patterns on your chest, a hint of heat moving across your skin. "One more day. With you. Here. Where nothing outside can reach us."

She shifts on top of you, adjusting her position, and the movement drags her hips across yours in a way that makes your breath catch. You're hard already. Have been since she climbed on top of you, probably. Her body pressing against yours through thin layers of cotton, the heat of her seeping through the fabric. Jimin feels it. Her lips curve into something knowing.

"Someone wants another round," she observes.

“That honestly wasn’t even on my mind, I swear.”

She smiles and leans down to kiss you. You feel her tongue sliding against yours as her hips begin to move. A lazy grind that drags the thin cotton of her panties across your length, creating friction that makes you grip her waist involuntarily. Her hand slides between your bodies. Fingers hooking into the waistband of your underwear, tugging downward, working the fabric past your hips. Your cock springs free, hard and aching, and she wraps her fingers around it immediately. A light grip at first, her thumb sweeping across the head in a teasing circle.

"Better?" she asks against your mouth.

Your hips jerk involuntarily. "Getting there.”

She continues stroking you, her grip finding a rhythm that's maddeningly unhurried, and her mouth never leaves yours. Kissing you slow and deep while her hand works your cock with the same patience. Then she shifts, adjusting her position, and suddenly the head of your cock is pressed against the thin cotton barrier of her panties. Right there. Right against her cunt, where the fabric is already damp, where you can feel the heat of her radiating through the material like she's burning from the inside out.

Your hand finds her ass. Squeezes. And god, the way it fills your palm, the perfect yield of soft flesh under your fingers, the way she gasps quietly into your mouth when you grip harder. She has the kind of ass that makes you want to spend hours just touching it, mapping every curve, learning exactly how much pressure makes her breath catch. Jimin lifts her hips slightly. Her free hand reaches down between her legs, fingers hooking into the cotton of her panties and pulling them aside, and then she's lowering herself back down and you feel it. The wet heat of her pressing against your bare cock, no barrier anymore, nothing between you but skin and slick warmth.

She takes you in slowly. Her body opens around you, her walls gripping you tight as she sinks down. Your hands tighten on her hips involuntarily, fingers digging into soft flesh. "Fuck," you breathe. She bottoms out. Takes all of you, her hips flush against yours, and for a moment she just stays there. Adjusting. Letting her body accommodate the stretch. Her eyes are closed, lips parted, and you can see the flutter of her pulse at the base of her throat.

Then she starts to move. Slow at first. A gentle roll of her hips, circular and smooth, grinding down against you in a way that creates friction without urgency. Her pussy is perfect. Tight and wet and hot, clinging to your cock with every movement, and you have to remind yourself to breathe because the sensation is overwhelming in the best possible way.

Her breasts sway gently inside her tank top with each roll of her hips. The thin fabric does nothing to conceal their shape, the way they move, the outline of her nipples pressing against the cotton. You want to push the shirt up, expose her completely, take those breasts in your hands and feel their weight. But there's something almost more erotic about this. The hint of concealment. The suggestion of skin without the full reveal.

And speaking of which: Jimin's pale skin glows in the grey morning light. She looks ethereal, otherworldly, something you dreamed up in a fever. Her dark hair cascades over her shoulders, brushing against her collarbones, and when she opens her eyes to look down at you, it knocks the breath out of you.

"You feel good," she murmurs, low, breathy, slightly unsteady.

"You feel incredible."

She smiles at that. Leans down to kiss you again, her breasts pressing against your chest through the thin fabric, and her hips never stop moving. That slow, sinuous rhythm that's driving you slowly insane. Your hands slide from her hips to her ass, palming both cheeks, guiding her movements even as she sets the pace. She feels unbelievably good. Every roll of her hips drags your cock through her slick heat, you can feel how wet she is, the evidence of her arousal coating your length, making every movement smooth and easy.

"I like watching you," you say. "Like this. On top of me."

Jimin's rhythm falters slightly. A flush spreads across her cheeks, down her neck, disappearing beneath the collar of her tank top. "Yeah?"

"Yeah." Your hands squeeze her ass, pulling her down harder on the next stroke. "You're beautiful."

She kisses you instead of responding, and her pace increases. Still not fast, not urgent, but more intentional now. Rising up until you're almost slipping out of her, then sinking back down in one smooth motion that makes both of you gasp. Her breasts bounce more noticeably with the increased movement, and you can't help but slide one hand up from her ass, up the curve of her waist, until your palm cups her breast through the tank top.

Her nipple is hard against your palm. You roll it between your fingers, and Jimin moans. A real sound, unguarded, and her hips stutter in their rhythm. "Don't stop," you tell her.

Her pace settles back into something steady, a little faster than before, her thighs flexing with each rise and fall. Your cock slides in and out of her perfect pussy, slick and hot and so fucking tight around you. The sound of it fills the room. Wet and rhythmic, obscene in the quiet morning, and somehow that makes it better. Knowing what you sound like together. Knowing you're making those sounds.

Jimin braces her hands on your chest, using the leverage to ride you deeper. Her head tips back, exposing the long column of her throat, and you watch her move on top of you with something approaching reverence. The way her body undulates. The way her breasts sway beneath the cotton. The way her lips part around soft sounds of pleasure. "God," she breathes. "You feel so good inside me."

You thrust up to meet her on the next stroke, and she cries out. A sharp, surprised sound that dissolves into a moan as you do it again. And again. You're timing it now, driving up when she comes down, and the rhythm locks in. You're both moving together, perfectly synced, like you've been doing this for years instead of minutes.

The pace builds gradually. Her eyes are closed. Head tipped back. Lost somewhere inside herself, inside the sensation, inside the place where pleasure builds and builds until it becomes impossible to contain. You can feel it in her body. The way her pussy grips you tighter with each stroke. The way her rhythm becomes less controlled, more instinctive. The way her whole frame trembles with the effort of chasing something that's just out of reach.

"Oh god," she breathes, shaky and desperate. "Oh god, oh god—" Her pace becomes erratic. Faster, harder, grinding down against you. Her breasts bounce beneath the rumpled tank top, nipples dragging against the fabric, and the sounds she makes are the sweetest thing you've ever heard. Soft, broken moans that spill from her lips without permission. Little gasps and whimpers that she can't seem to control. "I'm close," she manages. "I'm so close, I'm going to—"

"Cum on my cock,” you say, guiding her hips. “I want to feel you cum, Jimin. Let go."

She cries out. Her rhythm shatters completely, hips jerking in uncoordinated movements as she chases the edge. You thrust up into her, faster, giving her what she needs, and you watch her face as she breaks apart. The orgasm finally hits her. Her whole body goes taut, spine arching, mouth falling open in a silent cry that finally releases as a long, trembling moan. Her pussy clenches around you in rhythmic pulses, squeezing your cock so tight it almost hurts, and you can feel the rush of wetness as she comes undone.

She's beautiful when she cums. The way her face transforms, all the tension and control stripped away, nothing left but pure, unfiltered pleasure. The way her body moves through it, riding the aftershocks, her hips still twitching against yours even as the peak begins to fade. Her moans taper off into soft, breathless sounds. Little whimpers of oversensitivity as her body comes down from the high. She's trembling, her thighs shaking on either side of your hips, and when she finally opens her eyes, they're glazed. Unfocused. Lost in the aftermath.

She collapses against you. Her full weight settles onto your chest, warm and boneless, and you catch her automatically. Wrap your arms around her. Hold her close while she breathes against your neck with her heart hammering so hard you can feel it through her ribs. "That was..." she starts, but doesn't finish. Doesn't need to. You turn your head and she lifts hers and then you're kissing, deep and tender, lips soft against yours, her tongue sliding lazily against your own, and you could stay like this forever. Wrapped up in her, surrounded by her, still buried inside her.

But your cock is still hard. Still aching. Still desperate for release. Slowly you roll her over. She makes a small sound of surprise as her back hits the mattress, as your weight settles over her. Her dark hair fans across the pillow, and she looks up at you with eyes that are still hazy with pleasure but beginning to sharpen with interest. You pull out of her.

First things first. Your underwear is still tangled around your legs, shoved down but not removed. You kick free of them impatiently, finally bare, finally unrestricted. Then her panties. The white cotton that she'd only pushed aside, that's still clinging to her hips, damp with her arousal. You hook your fingers into the waistband and draw them down slowly. Over her hips. Down her thighs. Past her knees, her calves, her ankles, until they're gone and she's completely naked beneath you except for that thin tank top.

You settle between her legs. Spread her thighs wider with your hands, making room for yourself, and she lets you. Opens for you willingly, eagerly, her breath quickening again as you position yourself.

Your cock brushes against her entrance and you both shudder. She's soaked. Absolutely drenched, her arousal smeared across her inner thighs, and when you look down at where your bodies almost meet, you can see it. The cream forming at her opening, thick and white, evidence of how thoroughly she came on your cock just moments ago.

"Look at you," you murmur, dragging the head of your cock through her folds, coating yourself in her wetness. "So fucking wet for me."

Jimin's hips twitch, trying to chase the contact. "Please."

"Please what?"

"Please fuck me again. I want to feel you inside me."

You rub your cock against her entrance one more time, teasing, watching the way her cream clings to your shaft. Then you push forward. She takes you easily this time, her pussy still loose and slick from her orgasm, and you slide into her in one smooth stroke that makes both of you groan. She's even wetter inside than before, hot and welcoming, and you can feel her walls flutter around you as her body adjusts to being filled again. You start slow. Long, deep strokes that pull almost all the way out before pushing back in. Taking your time now that the first desperate edge has been taken off, savoring the sensation of her body wrapped around yours. The bed creaks softly beneath you, a rhythmic accompaniment to the wet sounds of your cock moving inside her.

Jimin's hands find your shoulders, her nails digging in lightly, and her legs wrap around your waist to pull you deeper. Her eyes are locked on yours, and there's an intimacy to this position that wasn't there when she was on top. Face to face. Breath mingling. Nowhere to hide.

"You feel so good," she whispers. "So fucking good inside me."

You lean down and kiss her, swallowing her next moan as you sink deep and hold there, grinding against her, feeling every inch of her pussy clenching around your cock. You fuck her slowly at first, savoring every sensation, committing every detail to memory because you know this can't last. The wet heat of her pussy wrapped around your cock. The way her body yields beneath yours, soft and welcoming. The small sounds she makes with each thrust, breathy little gasps that escape her parted lips.

But your hips find a rhythm eventually. Pulling back until just the head of your cock remains inside her, then sliding forward in one long stroke that buries you to the hilt.

"Harder," she whispers. You comply. The pace increases incrementally, your hips snapping forward with more force, driving deeper into her slick heat.

Then Jimin's hands leave your shoulders. They travel down her own body, fingers trailing over her collarbones, her chest, until they reach the hem of her tank top. She grips the fabric and pulls it up in one fluid motion, bunching it above her breasts, exposing herself completely. And god. Her tits.

They're perfect. Large and full, pale as cream against the grey sheets, capped with nipples that are flushed pink and hard. They bounce with each thrust, a rhythm that matches the movement of your hips. Soft flesh rippling with every impact, swaying gently when you pull back, jiggling when you slam forward. "You like watching them?" Jimin asks.

"I fucking love watching them."

She smiles. Her hands come up to cup her own breasts, fingers spreading to contain the soft weight. She squeezes them together, lifts them slightly, presents them to you, then her fingers find her nipples, pinching lightly, rolling the hard peaks between thumb and forefinger.

The sound she makes is devastating. A low, throaty moan that vibrates through her chest as she touches herself while you fuck her. Her eyes flutter closed, lips parting, and she plays with her nipples like she's putting on a show just for you. Tugging at them, circling them, pressing down and releasing to watch them spring back.

Your pace increases again. The sight of her touching herself, combined with the tight grip of her pussy around your cock, is driving you toward an edge you're not ready to reach. You need to make her cum again first. Need to feel her fall apart beneath you one more time.

Your hand leaves its position beside her head, travels down her body, over the soft curve of her stomach, until your fingers find the place where your bodies meet. You can feel your own cock sliding in and out of her, can feel the stretch of her pussy around your shaft. And just above that junction, her clit waits. Swollen and sensitive, peeking out from its hood, begging to be touched.

You press your thumb against it. Jimin's reaction is immediate and violent. Her back arches off the bed and her pussy clamps down on your cock so hard you see stars. Her hands abandon her nipples to grip the sheets instead.

"Oh fuck," she gasps. "Oh fuck, right there, keep going, don't stop—"

Your thumb circles her clit in tight movements, matching the rhythm of your thrusts. Pressure and friction and the relentless slide of your cock inside her, all working together to push her toward the edge. Her breasts bounce freely now, no longer contained by her hands.

"That's it," you murmur, watching her face contort with pleasure. "That's it, let me feel you cum again."

Her moans become more urgent. Higher pitched, more desperate. Her hips buck against yours, meeting your thrusts with movements of her own, fucking herself on your cock while your thumb works her clit without mercy. The wet sounds grow louder, wetter, her arousal practically flooding out of her with each stroke.

"I'm gonna—" she starts, but can't finish. Her whole body is trembling, muscles tensing, pussy fluttering around your cock in a way that tells you she's right on the edge.

You press harder on her clit. Fuck her deeper. Give her everything you have. She shatters.

The orgasm rips through her with enough force to make her scream. Her spine curves impossibly, her head thrown back against the pillow, and her pussy clamps down on your cock in rhythmic pulses that threaten to drag you over with her. But that's not all.

A sudden rush of wetness, a pressure releasing, and then she's squirting. A clear stream of fluid spurts from where your bodies meet, soaking your stomach, coating your cock, splashing against your thighs. Not a lot, but unmistakable. Evidence of just how thoroughly you've wrecked her.

"Holy shit," you breathe, but you don't stop. You keep fucking her through it, keep rubbing her clit, and her orgasm seems to go on forever. Waves and waves of pleasure crashing through her, her pussy spasming around you, her whole body shaking with the force of it. And every time you thrust back in, another small squirt accompanies it. Like her body can't contain everything you're making her feel. Like she's overflowing with pleasure and it has nowhere to go but out.

"Oh my god," she's babbling, "oh my god, oh my god—"

You're relentless now. Fucking her through the aftershocks, feeling her squirt around your cock with each stroke, watching the mess spread beneath you both. The sheets are soaked. Your thighs are dripping. And still you don't stop.

You can feel your orgasm gathering, inevitable, and you know you need to make a decision about where you're going to finish.

One last long thrust. You bury yourself inside her as deep as you can go, hold there for a moment, feeling her pussy pulse around you, feeling the last tremors of her orgasm ripple through her walls. Then you pull out.

Your cock emerges glistening wet, coated in her cum and her squirt and your own precum. You shift position, moving up her body until you're kneeling over her chest, your cock positioned directly above her breasts. She knows what you want without being told.

Her hands come up immediately, cupping those perfect pale tits and pressing them together, creating a valley of soft flesh for you. She looks up at you with dark eyes, lips curved in invitation. "Cum on me," she says, seductive and utterly filthy. "I want to feel it. I want to see it."

You wrap your hand around your cock and start stroking. It only takes seconds. You're too wound up, too desperate, too overwhelmed by everything that's happened. The first spurt hits her chest with enough force to reach her collarbone, a thick rope of white against her pale skin. "Yes," Jimin breathes, squeezing her tits tighter together. "Keep going. Cum on me. Give me everything."

The second spurt lands between her breasts, pooling in the valley she's created. The third stripes across her left nipple. You groan, hand working your shaft, and you can't stop cumming. It just keeps coming, wave after wave of release, painting her chest white.

"That's it," she encourages. "Cum for me. Every last drop. I want it all." Her words drag another spurt out of you, splashing across her right breast. Your hand keeps moving, milking your cock, drawing out every last bit of cum until you're finally, completely empty.

You look down at the mess you've made. Her perfect pale tits, covered in streaks and pools of your cum. Some of it sliding down toward her stomach. Some of it caught around her hard nipples. Some of it still sitting in the valley between her breasts, warm and thick.

Jimin smiles up at you. Pleased. Satisfied. Looking at the cum on her chest like it's a gift she's been waiting for. "Come here," she says.

You shift forward, and she guides your softening cock toward her mouth. Her lips part and she takes just the tip inside. Her eyes close as she wraps her lips around you, sucking gently, her tongue swirling to clean away the remaining traces of cum. The sensation is too much on your sensitive flesh, but you don't pull away. You watch her. The way her cheeks hollow slightly with each gentle suck. The way her lashes rest against her cheeks. The way she hums contentedly around your cock like she's savoring something delicious.

When she finally releases you, there's a single drop of cum clinging to the corner of her lip. You reach down, brush it away with your thumb. Before you can pull back, her mouth opens and she takes your thumb inside, sucking it clean with the same attention she gave your cock.

Her eyes open, finding yours. "I love your taste," she says quietly, releasing your thumb.

You lean down and kiss her, tasting yourself on her tongue, and you think that this might be the closest thing to perfect you've ever experienced.

—

The morning unfolds in this weird, borrowed way. Like you've stepped into someone else's life for a bit. Domestic and quiet and strangely... normal? Jimin makes breakfast. You're planted at the kitchen island just watching her move around. You're memorizing this. The angle of her shoulders, the way she reaches for things, how natural it all looks. Filing it away in that part of your brain where you keep shit you know you'll want to remember later.

She notices you watching. The look she gives you is knowing, maybe a little amused.

You accept the plate she offers and make some comment about your inevitable starvation back in Seoul. She points out you could learn to cook. You counter that this has been definitively proven impossible. She mentions yesterday's attempt. You clarify that successfully cracking a single egg without shell contamination doesn't qualify as progress; it's barely basic human function. That gets a smile out of her. She grabs her own plate and settles in next to you. You eat together without talking. Outside, the rain keeps doing its thing.

Later, you bundle yourselves in raincoats and venture outside.

The storm's died down to a drizzle. You grab two umbrellas before heading out, even though you're both already wearing raincoats. It feels like the right thing to do. Jimin takes your hand without asking. Just reaches over and laces her fingers through yours, natural as breathing, and you start walking down the overgrown path that connects all the lake properties.

"These were all occupied when I was a kid," you say, pointing at the first house. Two-story cabin, wood siding, completely empty now. The garden's a mess: bushes everywhere, grass up to your knees. "The Choi family lived there. Three kids my age. We played together every summer."

"What happened to them?"

"Moved to Busan, I think. Dad got a job there. They sold it to some development company that bought it and then... nothing. Just left it to rot." You keep walking. More houses, all the same story. Families moved away, companies bought them, promised they'd fix them up and never did. The whole neighborhood's just sitting here empty and falling apart.

"It's sad," Jimin says, looking at one house where the roof's caved in on one side. "All these empty places."

"Everything ends eventually." You squeeze her hand. "Not always a bad thing. Sometimes it just is what it is." She doesn't say anything, but her grip gets tighter. Makes you wonder if she's thinking about endings too.

Then the lightning hits. One second you're fine, pointing out the old dock where you used to fish with your grandfather. The next second there's this massive crack of thunder and a flash so bright you can't see anything. The bolt strikes somewhere across the lake, close enough that you both freeze.