.

“I could fuck her all night,” you answer, hands on Chaewon’s hips as you hammer into her, one coming down to cop a feel of that ass your bro’s been playing around with.

“Oh she would love that,” Kazuha laughs, grinning and giving you a sloppy kiss on the cheek. “She’s all yours tonight, bro. Think of it as my thanks for helping me out last week.”

Last week. Fuck, if all you needed to do was that to have this, you'd do it again in a heartbeat. Even if the consequences end up screwing you over again. Though, with what Kazuha’s offering—

“Her mouth, her pussy, her ass–” She gives Chaewon another hard slap on said ass. “Chaewon likes it in the ass, by the way. Thought you should know.”

The very possibility of being able to fuck ass gets you harder, makes you moan out of the thought of it coming to mind. Kazuha grins, seeing how affected you are with just a few words. She turns her attention to Chaewon, who's been having the time of her life, enjoying every inch of your cock as you drive into her.

“Don’t you, Chae?” she asks, moving away from your side and to Chaewon’s, sliding up right next to her and cupping her face. Turning it towards her and chuckling at the smile Chaewon gives her.

“He’s gotta earn my ass first,” Chaewon laughs, one that gets quickly cut off as Kazuha gives Chaewon another spank, the slap louder this time. “Zuha, you fucking bitch–”

Chaewon gets silenced by a kiss, one that quickly becomes a battle for dominance between the two. One that she quickly loses when Kazuha forces her way into her mouth, hands weaving through Chaewon’s locks, her cheeks to keep her from pulling away.

The curse you let slip as they make out in front of you is all about the only thing you can say. Kazuha’s giving you a show—kissing with their tongues out, nibbling at each other’s lips, moaning out so obscenely that you pause to stare at the sight of it.

“Oh he'll earn it alright,” Kazuha says against Chaewon’s lips, her hands trace the curve of Chaewon’s spine. She pulls away, glancing at you with an eyebrow raised. It’s enough for you to get back to it, resuming your hard thrusts. “Give it to her harder, dude. Little shit loves getting dicked down.”

The command spurs you on, filling Chaewon with deep, hard strokes that make the bed creak. Your cock hitting that sweet little spot in her cunt that makes her gasp out and scream. Her hands claw at the sheets, trying to steady herself against your pounding while Kazuha gets closer, getting a front row seat to watch you rail Chaewon. 

She even helps you, spreading Chaewon’s ass with a hand and thumbing her puckered hole. It makes Chaewon mewl, taking the thumb into her ass so well it—

“Jesus,” you moan, giving Chaewon’s ass a slap of your own. She preens, her walls clenching around you vice-like, and you feel her pussy cum on your cock. It leaves you gritting your teeth and pausing once more, letting her coat you in her slick and squeeze you. 

“How long has it been since your last fuck?” The desperation must’ve been written all over your face when Kazuha chuckles at the state you’re in.

“Too fucking long,” you groan, breathing deep as Chaewon glances back, a fucked-out smile on her face as her hips start to buck against you. 

“Fuck, Zuha, I bet he’d fill me to the brim,” Chaewon moans, lowering her chest down and fucking herself on your cock. Kazuha grins next to her, straightening up as she watches the show. “Make me fucking drip his load on the bed. Oh my god, that would look so fucking hot–”

“I know he will,” Kazuha says, a hand coming down to rub at her clit. One look at you makes her grin, and she’s right back at your side, taking your hand and slipping it between her legs. “And when he does, he’s gonna fuck your ass right after.”

“Christ, Zuha,” you gasp, circling her clit. She’s soaked, and your fingers are too when you take a few fingers to her folds, and the pleased hum that comes out of her is all the reason you need to push them in. “Don’t say shit like that.”

“Say what?” The innocent look on her face is so utter bullshit, her hand resting on Chaewon’s ass, pushing her back into your cock harder, the other resting on your cheek to turn you towards  her.

All you can hear before going feral are Chaewon’s laughter that quickly dissolves into moans and Kazuha’s words telling you to do whatever the hell you want. How Chaewon’s just a cumdump for you tonight, telling you that Chaewon’s gonna be your good little slut, that she’ll be right here for you to help you in case Chaewon couldn’t handle you all alone.

Kazuha seals those words into a promise with a kiss; One you wholeheartedly return as your hips move in tandem with Chaewon, feeling her pussy clamp down harder on your length. You don’t care if she cums again, if she causes you to get noise complaints from the neighbours, whatever.

Your lips fighting against Kazuha’s are all that’s on your mind right now. The shitty lip gloss she always wears on night outs give her a sweet taste, her perfume overloading your senses. And as much as you want to think she’s just a friend, you know that this has blurred so many lines between the both of you.

“Come on, bro,” Kazuha whispers as she ends the kiss. It sends you back to reality, to where Chaewon’s cumming all over your cock again, dirtying up the sheets underneath. To where Kazuha’s moving to pepper kisses on your neck, biting down on a spot to leave a hickey. To where your fingers never let up on pumping two, three fingers in Kazuha’s cunt, all while hammering your cock into Chaewon. “Give it to her. Earn that ass–”

And as disappointing as it was to leave Kazuha’s pussy, everything and everyone has gotten you to a point of no return, hands coming to grip Chaewon’s hips and focusing fully on pounding her into the mattress. 

“Yes, yes, yes–” Chaewon chants, arms reaching back towards you. You take them—use them as reins, lifting her slightly as you thrust into her. Harder, like the way she likes to get fucked. She yelps, laughs, screams as the pleasure gets too much, too fast, and she’s gushing all over you again.

“Fuck–” You bury yourself deep and let that shot of nirvana take you. Kazuha’s by your side, as always, watching you spurt a load you’ve been saving up for who knows how long. Dumping it all inside Chaewon’s greedy tight cunt.

“That’s it, dump all that cum inside her,” Kazuha says, spreading Chaewon’s ass to get you both a better view. Watching every single throb of your shaft, every devilish giggle she lets out sent straight to your ears. It was heaven, almost. Stuck in that moment until the last of your cum leaves you.

You let go of Chaewon’s arms, gently making her fall back into the mattress. She’s panting, catching her breath as you slowly withdraw your length from her, making a gob of your cum ooze down her thighs. 

“Look at that…” Kazuha mutters, sliding a finger upwards, collecting the cum and sending it straight to her mouth, having a taste of you. The delighted hum she makes as she smiles at you almost makes you laugh, until she drops down to meet your cock and takes it in her mouth.

You groan as she sucks on your tip, her tongue licking any leftovers, taking it for herself. Your hand rests on her hand, making her pause to look up at you before she continues, taking you deeper in her mouth.

“Holy shit Zuha, your guy’s amazing,” Chaewon pants, slowly turning around to find Kazuha gagging on your cock. “Holy shit, you are taking that cock.”

Chaewon’s eyes are glued to the act, watching Kazuha choke on your cock. All you can do is hold on for dear life as she practically gets you ready for the next round. She leaves you with a kiss on the tip before looking over at Chaewon, whose fingers are playing at her folds, taking up the cum inside them and licking them off her.

“Come on Chae.” Kazuha’s stroking you ever so slowly, not wanting to overstimulate you too much. Even if she already has.

“Let’s get that ass ready for him.”

Chaewon grins.

“We using lube or your tongue?”

The second time was more or less a surprise for the both of you.

Kazuha was already surprised she managed to get you to join her for her usual Friday night outs, considering what had happened the week prior.

It wasn’t awkward, the day after she brought Chaewon. If anything she pretended nothing happened at all. For the most part, at least.

She teases you about being a quickshot every now and again, keeps on hinting at giving you another night with Chaewon. She didn’t have to, not when you have Chaewon’s number on your phone, who may or may not be leaving you thirst traps every now and again.

You don't think Kazuha knows about it. And you should probably, eventually tell her about it.

What she doesn't address are the kisses you two shared. Or having her all over you in between your sessions with Chaewon. Or the little tingles in your stomach that you hope she feels whenever it all happened. Not a single word from her about it. You thought she was a bit shy about it. Or if she regretted doing it at all. But you know that’s not the case because if it was, she’d be looking for a new apartment already.

Sure, it gets sorta brought up whenever she starts shit about that night. And whenever it does she’ll either brush it off or change the topic. The latter being the reason how you ended up at the club she usually hangs out at.

And the reason why you met another one of her ‘friends’.

“Your boy looks lost,” Sakura chimes, sliding into the booth. “Not one for parties?”

“I’m more of a home body,” you reply, taking a sip of whatever this was Kazuha got for you. “Kazuha got me to come with her for once.”

You nod your head towards said girl, who was metaphorically trying to kill Sakura with just a look. A raised eyebrow, glaring eyes staring right into Sakura who simply smiled, took your drink away from you and took a sip of it.

“Must be a special night then,” she comments, her tongue darting out to lick her lips. It was textbook seduction—her hair framing her face, the smirk she throws your way, the eyes that make you feel like prey. She doesn't make any move to give your drink back, having another taste of it before she speaks. “So what–”

“Here.” Kazuha’s passed her drink to you, even pressing up to your side. “Have mine.”

“You su–”

“Yeah, I'm sure.” Kazuha cuts you off, her eyes never leaving Sakura. Alarm bells started sounding off in your head, and every bit of instinct is telling you that you are in danger.

You chuckle sheepishly, eyes darting back and forth between them. Wishing that you weren’t sandwiched between your ridiculously hot best friend that you have unresolved tension with and her ridiculously hot friend who might be thinking of fucking you. Both of which may or may not be pissed off with one another.

An hour later, you’re proven right and wrong at the same time when you’re driving back to your place with Kazuha and Sakura making out in the backseat of the car, making it very hard to focus on actually driving.

You take peeks of the action; Kazuha pulling Sakura's pants down, Sakura getting a hand under Kazuha’s skirt, groping each other, leaving bite marks on each other’s necks. And what you can’t see, you can hear. And that makes the mind wander and imagine the debauchery happening in the back as you struggle to drive in a safe manner.

It's a good thing Kazuha told you to pull over or else you would not be able to stay on the asphalt. It is also a good thing that it's the dead of night too, making it very easy to avoid giving anyone a free show, even with the tinted windows.

You park the car, move from the driver's seat to the back, and you’re immediately straddled by Sakura. Grinding on your crotch, lips crashing against yours in a messy kiss, her hands already fumbling with your belt.

She gets your pants unbuttoned next, hastily unzipping you as her tongue attacks your mouth. You fight back only for a short while before your exploration of her mouth gets interrupted by Kazuha, who yanks Sakura away by the hair.

“Hey–” Sakura yelps, facing Kazuha with a glare. “The fuck?”

“You don’t kiss him.” Kazuha emphasizes it with another tug, inching closer to the both of you. “He’s mine.”

Kazuha drives the message home when she pulls you closer and kisses you. Softer, more passionate than Sakura, pulling you tighter against her. You don’t know what to do, what to think—lust completely takes over your mind as your hands roam the bodies around you.

“Look who’s all territorial,” Sakura laughs, fishing your cock out of your underwear, giving you quick strokes. “You don't mind if he kisses my tits though, right?”

A groan escapes your lips as Kazuha swipes her tongue across your lip before pulling away. “Long as he wants to.” She glances at you and raises an eyebrow. “Do you?”

“Fuck, would I,” you answer immediately, turning your head back to Sakura, her hands already moving to take off her shirt, her lacy bra all that stands between your lips and her breasts. She’s grinning at you, hair all messy and the trick of the light making her eyes almost gleam. Like you were about to be devoured.

“That’s what I thought.” Kazuha tugs Sakura’s bra down, exposing the delicious pair of breasts underneath and making your mouth water. Sakura makes a comment about Kazuha being an impatient bitch while unclasping her bra and watching her breasts spill free of them. Heavy, soft, and oh so fucking delicious as Sakura pulls you towards them.

You suckle on the nub like a baby, nibbling them, almost choking yourself with her breasts. Your hands find the soft globes, kneading them roughly, flicking a hard nipple when your mouth isn’t occupying them. You hear Sakura’s laughter right over your ear, her hands wrapping around your head and scratching your hair. 

Kazuha’s voice follows after, telling Sakura to “Start fucking him already.” while she takes one of your hands away from Sakura’s tits and to hers. You can’t help but compare—smaller, perkier than Sakura’s but the way it gives way to your hands feels magical.

“What, giving me first round?” The smugness in Sakura’s voice is so palpable it might as well be dripping off her lips, and you bite down on a nipple. She hums, giving your hair a light tug, telling you to keep going. 

“You’re already on top of him. Unless you want me to drain him first?” Kazuha shoots back, tone all breathy as you squeeze her breasts softly, her hand on top of yours.

“Like I would ever let you. Besides, you live with the guy.” Sakura scoots closer, lining you up against her entrance, dragging your cockhead through her dripping folds. “You probably fuck him everyday.”

“After this, we will be.” You're throbbing at the thought of it, of being able to be in that position. Imagining Kazuha under you, writhing in pleasure as you fuck her, begging for more. How that ass of hers would bounce as she rides you, your hands running through her impossibly thick thighs.

And Sakura knows it. Feels it in her hand, in her cunt as she finally sinks down on your length. Her walls taking your entire length, her moans filling the small space of your car. “So fucking big, god–”

It's all so much. Lavishing Sakura’s tits in your drool, alternating between her nipples. Her pussy so damn tight, so fucking warm and coating you in her juices as she starts to bounce on your lap. Kazuha right next to you, back in your ear doing the same thing she did last time you had a threeway.

Only this time she’s taken it up a notch. Licking up your neck, nibbling your ear, her words leveling up to another level of perversion. Telling you that she’ll be sucking your cock every morning. “Maybe even when you get home, just be on my knees when you open the door and take care of you right there in the hallway.” Wants you to take her whenever you want, long as it stays between you two now.

“No more other women.” She’s setting the rules, even if it’s being broken right now. No Chaewon, no Sakura. Nobody else. Just me. It’s a branding, a promise, a bite of your neck sealing it. “So enjoy the last time you’ll ever fuck someone else, bro.”

Kazuha pulls you away from Sakura’s chest to get you a front row view of her riding you, head thrown back as she takes you all in. Savoring you, making every second of having you count, clenching around you with a grip so fucking tight you’re surprised that you haven’t cum immediately.

“Holy fuck,” you mutter, watching Sakura slowly set a tempo. Her hips rolling, dropping, her tits bouncing right in front of your face. Your lips want to catch them, want them back where they should be. Yet Kazuha keeps you still, giving you the grace of having your hand back. One that you latch onto Sakura’s waist.

“Shit, Kazuha. Don't wanna share him sometimes?” Sakura asks, picking up the pace, taking you deeper. Her eyes flutter for a moment when you reach a spot that gets her gushing. “Promise I won't steal him away.”

“Not a chance, Saki,” Kazuha snaps back, her hand reaching out to slap Sakura’s breast, making her yelp in surprise. “Now hurry up so we can get back home.”

“Only if you let me fuck him again,” Sakura bargains, fucking you harder, impaling herself deeper. “Hell I'll even get Yunjin to join in, have her suck him off–”

The two keep arguing, fighting over who gets to have you next. And it was pretty ego inflating, having two of the prettiest women you’ve ever met duke it out for you. So much so that it's making that familiar ache in your loins start to stir, your release inching ever so closer. 

You get bold, start getting cocky, the words coming out before you can even stop them—

“Fucking hell, just kiss her already.” You don't know who you were telling when you said that. Maybe it didn't even matter, when Kazuha scoffs at you, amused. Sakura chuckles, licking her lips and pauses her motions, her heat enveloping you.

“Hear that, Zuha?” Sakura starts taunting, leaning forward towards her. “Let’s give him a show.” And she pulls Kazuha in by the neck for a kiss, hungry and eager. Kazuha returns it, fighting back against Sakura’s advances. It’s a battle, one that you’re eagerly about to join in on.

Your palms meet the curve of her ass, having a firm squeeze of that soft flesh, gripping them tight. You adjust slightly, getting a better footing in the cramped space, the sloppy kisses between the two all you can hear and see.

Sakura planting kisses all over Kazuha’s neck, Kazuha tugging her back up to her lips, biting lips, tongues locked in a dance—fuck the view is amazing you’re almost tempted not to ruin such a perfectly perverted image.

Until your hips start thrusting upwards and you realize that it can get even better when Sakura starts losing; Gasping at your sudden movement, moaning into Kazuha’s mouth at the rush of pleasure as you start pounding her, chasing your own release. 

“Oh shit, yes–” Sakura pulls away, her hands shooting up to the roof of the car to hold her steady, her tits bouncing in your face becoming hypnotizing. The car starts to bounce along with you three, and you’ve half a mind to slow down in fear of getting caught until you catch the look Sakura is giving you. One that tells you not to stop for anything.

Kazuha takes full advantage of Sakura’s lapse of control, pinching her nipples, groping her tits roughly all while she’s encouraging you to fuck her harder. “She can take it,” She’ll say, watching Sakura tremble at her touch, at your strokes. “Come on, fuck her like you fucked Chaewon.”

“Fuck, he got Chae too?” Sakura breathes out, a chuckle coming loose as she looks down at you with a smirk. “Lucky motherfucker, aren’t you?”

“Real lucky,” you agree. It’s all you can say, really. And it’s all because of the woman beside you. Hell of a bro, Kazuha is. You’ll need to think up a thank you gift of your own after this.

Kazuha leans back, her head on your shoulder, contenting herself with watching you fuck Sakura, your thrusts growing frantic. More urgent, as you chase the end. Letting you ruin Sakura, make her slick run down the backseat of your car. “Come on, Saki. Cum on his cock. Cause you’re never getting another chance after this.”

Kazuha’s words ringing in your ears, because you really won’t have another chance to fuck Sakura again. Not after this. So you enjoy the ride, lose yourself in her body. One of your hands leaves her ass for her tits, squeezing, pinching. Helping her reach that high as you stimulate every bit of her, until her walls convulse around your cock and she clenches so tight that it ends you both.

It’s a fucking mess—Sakura’s gushing all over your shaft, a choked moan spilling out as her cunt gets painted white by your load, milking you of every drop. She’s trembling, her weight crashing on top of you, your hips never letting up as you unload every bit of cum in your balls. Filling her completely, letting her cum all over your cock and stain the seats underneath you.

And Kazuha watches, giggling in your ear, leaving pecks in your neck and telling you that “It must feel real good dumping all that cum in her, huh?” with her hands caressing your chest. She turns your head to her, giving you a kiss and making you forget all about Sakura for a moment. 

That is, until Sakura starts talking again, and she seriously won’t let up about—

“I don’t care what the fuck you say, you’re sharing him again.”

“Fuck you, Sakura.”

Got laid with your best friend and her hot friend, got laid with your best friend and her other hot friend, somehow got into a relationship with your best friend and now you’re doing nothing but eat, sleep, fuck and repeat.

…That’s also a lie. You both still go to work when you need to. Fucking doesn’t exactly pay your bills, as great as it sounded. You’d have two dollars to start but hey, everyone’s gotta start somewhere.

And that total keeps getting higher whenever you meet her friends. You don’t even know how it keeps happening, or why. Or when, where, who with. 

…Well, that’s a lie too. You know someone spilled the tea, but you can’t prove it. Could’ve been Chaewon, Sakura, Kazuha herself—hell, it could’ve been all three. Though, it probably isn’t Kazuha when—  

“What are you doing here?” You can hear Kazuha’s voice outside your bedroom. You hoped it was going to be a peaceful night—romantic, even. Booked a table at a fancy restaurant as a way to switch things up from her usual raves and clubs. It took a bit of convincing since she kept on going about the place ‘not being her type of thing’ but you managed to get her to come around.

Shame that you might need to move it to next week, if Kazuha’s shouting is anything to go by.

“–ot doing this right now.” are the words that you happen upon when coming into the living room, where you spot Kazuha in a suit that should not look that good on her and a redhead that was looking way too smug for your liking.

“Oh, so Chae and Kkura get a weekend, but not me?” Add sassy to that too.

“This is not the same thing, Yunjin.”

“It is exactly the same thi–well look at you.” Yunjin leans her head to the side, gaze moving past Kazuha and towards you. All dressed up for an evening night out, giving them a wave and a bashful “Hi?” while Yunjin ogles and Kazuha sighs.

“He looks ready to do this now,” Yunjin snarks, hands on her hips and glancing at Kazuha. “Come on, Zuha. I’m here, you’re here, he’s here.” The eyebrow waggles sell the whole thing, a grin on Yunjin’s face as she nudges Kazuha with an elbow.

“Stop it,” Kazuha chides, making Yunjin raise her hands in surrender. “Just–shush and let me talk to him.”

She walks up to you, and you take the chance to admire how she looks. Blue vest, blue blazer, blue pants—even wore some ankle heels which is a rarity by itself. And she looks unequivocally, unreasonably breathtaking. She takes your hand and pulls you towards the hallway, granting you both a bit of privacy.

“You clean up good, du–” She stops, grins at you sheepishly before saying your name. “Sorry, still not used to…this.”

“You clean up a lot better than I do,” you chuckle, placing your hands on her hips. “And it’s okay. We don’t need to change anything if you don’t want to.”

“You really want me to keep calling you ‘bro’?” Kazuha smirks.

You laugh. “Why the hell not? We still are, even if we started d-wording.”

“D-wording?” She laughs along with you. “We fuck half the time and you can’t say the word dating?”

You roll your eyes. “Fine, fine. Dating. Happy?”

“A little bit.” She reaches up to your tie. “What’s that about me cleaning up better?”

You chuckle. “You look amazing, Zuha. Pull off a suit better than me.”

Kazuha smiles, muttering a shy thanks before glancing back towards the living room. “You know she’s not going to leave unless we give her what she wants.”

“I thought you said no more other women.” You follow her gaze, spotting Yunjin lazing about on your couch.

“I know what I said,” she says, her hands moving to undo your tie. “But I’m not hearing you say no.”

“I’m always saying no unless you tell me it’s fine.” You raise an eyebrow. “Is it fine?”

Kazuha bites her lip, playing with your collar. “What time’s our reservation?”

“Uh–” You check your watch. “In an hour or so.”

“We can make it quick then.” She pulls the tie off your neck and unbuttons the top, giving you a pat on the chest then stabs a finger at you. “This is the last time, got it?”

“You know that this is literally your fault.” Maybe pointing the blame back at her wasn’t the best idea if her stare was any indication. So you take accountability for the entire thing. “Alright, yeah, it’s the last time.”

“Good.” She smiles, before pulling you down for a kiss. You wish it would’ve lasted longer but time was ticking and if there’s one thing you learned about Kazuha recently, it’s that she gets extremely impatient when it comes to what she wants. She breaks the kiss, giving you a smile before hauling you back to the living room and shoving you back into the couch right next to Yunjin.

“So?” Yunjin grins, moving her head back and forth between you and Kazuha. “What’s the verdict, Kazuha?”

“No kissing.” Kazuha pulls her blazer off and sets it next to you. “You have ten minutes–” She gets on her knees. “So get over here and get to sucking you slut.”

“Fuck off, ten?” Yunjin complains, lowering herself down next to Kazuha who’s unbuckling your belt. It comes off quick, and your pants get yanked down soon after. Yunjin does the honors of taking your underwear off, her fingers hooking underneath the waistband of your boxers and sliding them down past your knees. “Make it thirty. I mean–” She wraps her hand around your cock and pumps you slowly. “Have you seen his cock?”

“We got somewhere to be. Fifteen or we stop.” It’s odd to find yourself in the middle of a negotiation for your dick just before a date, but with the way things have gone these last two weeks, you shouldn’t be surprised anymore.

“Can’t you guys like, cancel?” It’s even weirder that they’re managing to multitask—Yunjin’s hand jerking you off, having your length slowly become hard. Kazuha’s own are fondling your balls, stroking your thighs. “I really wanna have fun with him.”

“Too bad. Maybe if you don’t make us late tonight, you can have another go at him.” You had to raise an eyebrow at Kazuha for that. And all she gives you is a smirk. 

Last time, my ass, you think. You have the slightest inkling she gets off to seeing you have some fun with her friends.

Yunjin laughs. “Bet.” And those lips of hers are unreal when they close around your tip, her cheeks hollowing as she sucks. Your hands shot up to her hair, groaning, gasping, closing your eyes as she starts to bob her head, not wasting her time with teasing and going straight to killing you with her mouth.

She takes you deep, inhaling your cock, that warm mouth stuffed full of your length. Takes you straight down her throat like she was breathing air. Doesn’t gag, doesn’t use her hands. It was all a pair of lips that made you reconsider if you should cancel and have this instead.

“Fucking christ,” you curse, leaning your head back against the couch, fighting desperately not to let that ache come too soon. You feel one of your hands get pulled away from Yunjin's hair, and you look back to find Kazuha taking your fingers in her mouth, sucking on your thumb like she would your cock.

It’s a near identical view—Tongues twirling around you, watching every little reaction you make. One is taking you deep in her throat, relentless in her pursuit of getting you off. The other is worshiping every bit of you, kissing and licking and making sure that you feel every ounce of it all. Borderline insanity, is what this is. And you’re having the time of your life, as little a time Kazuha’s allowed this to even happen.

You brush your fingers across Kazuha’s cheek as she pops your thumb off her lips, smearing a string of saliva over her skin. She smiles, taking your hand with hers before giving your palm a kiss, glancing over to Yunjin with a scoff.

“Don’t hog,” Kazuha says, inching closer and nudging Yunjin to the left. “Give me some.”

Yunjin scoots over with your cock still trapped between her lips, a loud slurp coming off her as she reluctantly brings her head back up. “The fuck, you suck his cock everyday.”

“And I do.” Kazuha grips your length, stroking you slowly, point your length back at Yunjin. Her mouth lowers, down to your balls and giving it a long, slow lick down. 

Yunjin takes the hint, giggling and shaking her head before parting her lips and taking your dick back into those heavenly lips. She takes it slower this time, matching Kazuha’s rhythm on your balls. Letting you bask in the pleasure they’re giving you, making you sigh, grip whatever leather you can on the couch, and close your eyes again because looking would make you fucking lose whatever control you have left.

They seemed to have reached an understanding when you feel two mouths working your length. And you physically twitch, the sensation of them making out between your cock making you go psychotic, your chest seizing up in pleasure. Breathing feels harder, almost impossible, their tongues sliding down your length and back up again. Kisses surround your tip, caught in two pairs of lips before one comes down to your balls, sucking on your heavy sack.

It didn’t matter who was doing what, not when it felt this amazing. You don’t even know if you’ve missed the dinner reservation at this point, the two women in front of you the only thing occupying your mind right now.

Your cock throbs, leaking pre-cum all over their tongues and signalling the end for you. They seem to know it too, when they start getting faster, sloppier, messier. Your hands come up to their heads, resting on their locks and finally opening your eyes just as they start to take turns at your cock.

Kazuha’s slower, more delicate with you, sucking your cock with such care you’d think she was trying to stop you from cumming. Her tongue flicks your slit, twirling around your tip and pressing these long, deep kisses around you. It’s reverence, her adoration for you in full display.

Yunjin’s the complete opposite. Persistent and not a care in the world for you as long as she gets what she wants. Her mouth bottoming out on your cock, her nose pressing down on your groin. Sucking sloppily at your length, spit all over your shaft, her mouth.

The back and forth is killing you, and it all comes crashing down you when Kazuha starts up another one of her tirades.

“Give it to her,” Kazuha starts, her hand coming up to grip Yunjin’s hair, pulling and pushing her head down on your dick. Make her swallow all that cum in your balls. Or if you want her face, she’ll do it too. Just say it and I’ll yank her off your cock. “Paint her face with a fat fucking load, make her drip all over with your nut.”

“Zuha, fuck–” Your hands join Kazuha’s, fisting Yunjin’s hair, your breathing getting heavier as her words start to consume your thoughts. You strip away everything, and all you can hear is Kazuha’s encouragement as you cum right down Yunjin’s throat. Letting those goddamn lips send you to the deep end.

Your hips come up as Kazuha forces Yunjin down, emptying your everything into her. And Yunjin doesn’t gag, doesn’t choke. She takes it like a fucking gold medalist, gulping down every pulse of your cum. Doesn’t leave a mess, doesn’t let a single drop of it leave her mouth. 

“That’s it,” Kazuha coos, slowly letting Yunjin up from your shaft. Leaving your cockhead in her mouth, draining you of the last spurts of your seed. “Drink it all down, you slut.”

And Yunjin smiles, fucking smiles, around you. Resting there for a moment, making sure that nothing more will come out of you. She gives you a wink, knowing that she’s exhausted you of it all before pulling off you with a pop.

“Fuck,” Yunjin breathes, planting her hands behind her, keeping her upright. “Now that is one hell of a load.”

“Had your fill?” Kazuha stands up and wipes her pants of any dirt, like this was just another day. She picks up her blazer next to you, putting it back on and fixing her hair. “Or do I need to kick you out?”

“I’m good. Real good.” Yunjin laughs, leaning over to you one last time to kiss your tip. “Might come back for seconds next week.”

Kazuha scoffs. “We went past fifteen, slut. You’re not getting seconds.” She sits down next to you, patting your cheek and closing her hand around yours before smiling at the state you’re in.

Completely fucked out of your mind for your date.

Yunjin shakes her head and smirks. “Not unless I bring everyone with me.”

You’re a dead man walking if that ever happens. As if Kazuha would ever allo–

“Bet.”

You snap your gaze towards Kazuha, who was already looking at you with a grin.

“You can’t say I don’t spoil you, bro.” She pecks your lips, then turns to Yunjin.

“Same time next week?”

“So how's the job hunt going?” you asked, trapping your phone in between your shoulder and your cheek. Hands preoccupied with cooking dinner for the both of you.

“Spent the entire day looking for openings. And this is the last one before I head home,” Kazuha answered, the faint noise of the background bleeding through. “Is this how hard it is to get a job nowadays?”

“Hey, you did say that there aren't many bakeries around the area.” You turn the heat down, and with a free hand you place the phone down and put it on speaker. “Why bakeries, by the way?”

“Ask Minju,” she sighed, the noise around her getting louder. “Chae said that she used to be a pantler, and since I knew one of the owners that I buy pastries from they thought I could help her out.” The words started getting harder to understand, the noise around her getting louder. “I even took a day off for this.”

“Look at you, being a good samaritan,” you joked, making Kazuha let out a chuckle. “Oh yeah, you think you could get some salt bread over there?”

“What?” she asked, and you’re not sure whether that was because she couldn’t hear you over the increasingly loud crowd over where she’s at or if she was offended at the thought of free food. And you’re pretty sure she would never turn down free food.

“I asked if you can get some salt bread,” you repeated, a little louder for good measure. “You know, for us? And for Minju too, actually.”

A few seconds passed by before the call ends, which made you glance at the screen where a few pings from Kazuha’s messages popped up on your notifs.

Zuzu: Sorry had to drop Way too loud here But are you sure? Didn’t expect you that from you Not that I mind

You wiped your hands of any leftover mess from your cooking and picked up the phone.

You: yeah, y? thought itd be a good snack after dinner no worries if u cant we can make do with something else

You didn't hear back from her for a while after that. Probably too caught up with Minju or whatever the hell was happening over where she is (you find out that there was some celebrity passing by that caused a commotion). Only a few more talks scattered throughout the next half hour.

Zuzu: Minju got the job! Said she'll be starting next week You really sure about earlier? I can invite her for dinner

You: yeah im sure food almost ready have enough for 3 and tell her I said congrats

Zuzu: Thank u!!!! That was Minju We'll be there in thirty, hopefully Traffic is starting to pick up

You: cool stay safe

Zuzu: Will do And you are assertive today I like it

You had to wonder what was so assertive about asking her for bread of all things. You brushed it off instead, thought you were overthinking things and returned to your cooking.

Letting time run its course and have the moonlight take up the sunset's position in the sky, you busied yourself with the table and the food, getting a few more messages from Kazuha, until the doorknob rattled and swung open.

“We're home!” Kazuha announced just as you closed the cupboard, a few glasses in hand.

“Hey, hey,” you called out, walking back to the table, where Kazuha stopped by to give you a kiss on the cheek before she sprawled out on the couch while Minju's over by the hallway, taking her shoes off. “How was the trip?”

“Killer,” Kazuha groaned, sitting up properly. “That celeb got everyone buying at the bakery Minju got hired at. Almost thought that she'd have to start today.”

“Good thing they didn't,” Minju added in, waving shyly at you as she took a seat next to Kazuha. “I don't even know how to make the specials.”

“I'm sure you'll learn how to make it eventually.” You poured water into the cups and handed each to the both of them. “Again, congrats on the job, Minju.”

“Thank you,” Minju replied, taking a sip from the glass. “Good to know I have two customers already with you guys.”

“With the way Zuha over here inhales salt bread, you'd get baker of the month quick,” you joked, while Kazuha almost hits you with a throw pillow in the face. You smacked it away, letting it hit the ground before picking it up and giving it a few hits to get rid of any dust. “Speaking of, did you guys get salt bread?”

Kazuha furrowed her eyebrows. “You never asked for salt bread.”

“Uh-” You tilted your head. “Pretty sure I did. You know, before you dropped the call?”

“I thought you–” Kazuha stoped, looked up in thought, to the side where Minju is staring at her, then back to you where stood up and pulled you to the kitchen—while you threw the throw pillow back to the couch—where Minju can't hear. “I thought you said you wanted someone bred?”

“What?” Your head recoiled the slightest bit back. “I was asking you to get us some salt bread.”

The staring contest was almost one for the history books. Neither side budging, unblinking—you almost thought that Minju took another sip of her glass to hide the smile that had started forming in her features.

Until Kazuha blinked, and groaned. “Oh my god,” she muttered, a hand on her forehead. “I brought Minju here cause I thought you said you wanted to breed a girl.”

Your mouth opened, not a single sound coming out of your lips before they closed. You opened them again. “Was that why you said I was being assertive?”

“Yes!” she hissed. “Because you never ask for threesomes!”

“Why would I ask for them?” Now you're the one confused. Where the hell was she going with this? “Those aren't exactly a make or break for me, dude. I'm happy with you.”

“I just–” Kazuha tried to stutter out a response. “I think it’s pretty hot, okay? When we mess around with my friends. Gets me wet as fuck just thinking about it.”

Oh.

“But I thought you said you didn't want this to happen anymore.” You made finger quotes. “‘This is the last time’, remember?”

“I've said that way too many times for it to matter now.” She had a point with that one. With the amount of times she's gotten you roped into having sex with women not named Kazuha, you're still getting surprised that it keeps on happening.

“Unless you want to stop?”

Your hand rested on her hips, another coming to loop your fingers with hers. “Hey, if you're happy, I'm happy.”

Kazuha rolled her eyes, leaning into your touch. “You just wanna fuck girls other than me.”

“Girl, you just said you get turned on when we fuck other girls. I'm putting all the blame on you.”

“Asshole.” She scoffed, smiling up at you. Her eyes darted to Minju for a moment before she smirked. “You still up to do it though?”

“If we can get salt bread tomorrow, sure.” You received a punch in the arm. “Ow–”

“Bro, I swear you weren't asking for salt bread,” she insisted, and you heard Minju giggle at what must have looked like a couple's fight and makeup all in five minutes.

“You probably need a better phone then,” you joked, which caused a playful laugh to emerge from Kazuha.

“I blame that fucking celeb,” she snapped back, rubbing the spot where her fist met your flesh and giving you a peck on the lips. “Come on, let's go eat before the food gets cold.”

Kazuha started walking to the table, taking a seat and gestured for Minju to take one herself, the food all prepped on the table.

“You two okay?” Minju asked, sitting down on the chair.

“Yeah, needed to clear something up with him,” Kazuha answered, knowing looks on both their faces as you poured yourself a glass of water.

Minju nodded. “And everything's fine?”

“More than fine.” Kazuha glanced at you with that same look.

You smiled as you took a seat of your own. “Told her that I'll be getting some salt bread tomorrow.”

“Oh, is that your favorite?” Minju brightened up at the topic. “I know how to make them, and if the bakery sells them I can get you guys some.”

“Her favorite,” you corrected. “But I’ve grown to like it when she doesn't force feed it on me.”

“Hey–” Kazuha pointed a fork at you. “I don’t force you to eat it.”

“Mhmm.” You took a good swig of water as she continued to refute the claim.

Minju giggled at your antics, watching the both of you continue arguing, making comments here and there, optimistically telling you two that you’ll be getting discounts at the bakery when she gets started and catching up with each other as you ate dinner.

By the end of it, Minju dropped a bombshell of a question just as you finish your glass of water and Kazuha takes her last bite.

“So do I get the first load or do you?”

You almost choked on mineral water. 

Kazuha snapped her head to look at Minju, dropping her fork and making it clang on her plate.

Minju only smiled innocently, like she didn't ask about who's getting your cum fucked into them like it was a regular old Tuesday.

Kazuha placed the utensil down slowly, lets out a chuckle at the situation you all have found yourselves in, and looks at you.

“Well, bro? Who gets it first?”

—

“Oh, fuck–” Kazuha sighs as you pull out of her, a hand on her asscheek to spread her pussy folds. Letting your load slowly leak out, dripping down the sheets and staining her thighs. You indulge yourself in the sight, fingers digging into the soft flesh of her ass. 

There's a humming sound next to you; an observant one, almost content in its cadence. Letting your satisfaction in filling Kazuha with your seed be known. “That's a thick load,” Minju chimes, pressing up against your back, arms looping around you. Coming down to wrap around your cock, giving you gentle, slow tugs while her other is toying with your nipples. “I wonder if that's how much I'll get too.”

Her actions cause a groan to rip off your lips, your body tensing up with what Minju is trying to do. Not allowing you a moment's rest as she moves, sitting on the edge of the bed, right next to Kazuha, her mind still scattered in a haze of pleasure. 

“Minju–” Your hand lets go of Kazuha, and she collapses onto the bed, chest heaving, body turning, watching as Minju settles right next to her, spreading her legs wide. Fingers coming to play with her clit, pleading eyes staring up at you.

“What's wrong?” Minju asks demurely, tongue swiping her lips. “You don't wanna?” She's playing you so well, eyeing your twitching cock so hungrily, looking so eager to take you.

Her body is all but inviting you in, and you're falling right into her, settling between her thighs. When you let your palms rest by the sides of her head, and her eyes start to widen, pupils dilating. You'd think she would start vibrating from the excitement that's oozing out of her.

“Let a guy rest for a sec, Minju,” you answer, and she starts pouting at you, fingers coming down to cup your length, smearing you with her juices.

“But I want it,” Minju breathes out, that free hand she has looping around your neck to pull you closer. Her lips inches away from yours as she starts talking, begging you to start fucking her; along the lines of her uncaring of how rough you are, all she wants is your cum inside her cunt. Add a pretty please in the end to finish it off, and you're not sure when you had thrusted your dick in when she was coaxing you to fill her, to breed her—but here you are.

Balls deep in Minju, feeling her clench at every pound of your hips. Already mewling at how fast a pace you’ve set, airy broken gasps at each thrust. It’s gibberish, what she’s trying to say. Impossible to understand, and as much as you would love to get a proper syllable of what’s leaving her lips, Kazuha reminds you that she’s still here when she turns Minju towards her.

“You’re too close to him,” Kazuha mutters, before claiming Minju’s lips with hers. Slow and hesitant, so different from those that came before. Not battling for who gets to be on top or who chooses to get theirs first, only a soft lip lock that allows them to explore one another, tasting each other as you continue hammering down on Minju. 

“You jealous?” Minju grins into the kiss, leaning further into it. Letting Kazuha take the lead, her tongue slipping inside Minju’s, and it melts her. Silences her gasps into pleasured hums for a moment before Kazuha pulls away, and her moans come back to fill the room.

Kazuha chuckles. “Not really,” she says, and all three of you know that’s a lie. “Fuck him all you want, but his lips are mine.” And she comes back in, hand tangling in Minju’s hair as they sink back into each other’s arms.

Leaves you with an amazing view, too. Gripping Minju’s hips as you rut harder into her, her breasts bouncing each time you drive deep. Relishing in the fact that each time you do so her walls get tighter on your cock, her arms gripping tighter on Kazuha’s own or on the sheets, those cute whimpers she lets out getting muffled by Kazuha’s lips.

But envy spikes, seeing the uncertainty in their kisses leave as they get more familiar with each other. Getting more heated, hungrier at each press of their lips, each swipe of their tongues. It becomes your fuel, pounding her deeper, your hold on Minju getting rougher; you’re almost worried about leaving marks on her waist after this if not for the fact that she loves how you take her, use her for your own end.

Her hips moving to try and meet your thrusts, but her rhythm stutters along yours. Kazuha breaking the kiss and coming down to play with Minju’s breasts. Looking straight at you as Kazuha takes a nipple into her mouth, fingers coming to play with the other. It makes Minju cry out, her back arching, offering her all to the both of you.

You let out a curse, thrusting unceasing, her pussy unwilling to let you go every time you bottom out. And you’re allowing yourself to lose all sense of reason, the longer this whole thing goes. Your earlier round with Kazuha has gotten your stamina shot, already so close to spilling everything inside her. So close to letting Minju get what she wants.

Kazuha knows it. Sees all your tell-tale signs; the erratic movements, heaving grunts. It makes her smile, mouth popping off of the nub she’s enjoying, making Minju whine at the momentary loss of pleasure. “Close?”

“Yeah,” you grunt out, a hand leaving its hold on Minju’s waist to squeeze Kazuha’s thighs, enjoying the thick flesh before your fingers come in between her legs, circling her clit and causing a gasp to come out of Kazuha’s lips. Parted lips curl into a grin, and she’s grabbing your hand and pulling it towards her, tongue twirling around your finger before guiding it to cup one of Minju’s breasts, groping the soft flesh, the nub hard against your palm.

“In me,” Minju gasps, whimpers, sobs as you chase your release. Starts blabbering about having it all inside her, her legs locking behind the small of your back. Wants it all in her cunt, and she’s pleading with you; begging you to cum. Tears start to water her eyes, desperation painted across her face. The thought that you’re close, that you’re about to let your entire load flood her cunt, to paint her walls white with your seed, to fucking breed her like she oh so wants to be—it causes her to shake, spasms rocking her frame as the pleasure start to crash over her body. Clenching your cock like a vise, and you realize:

She’s cumming on your cock, and Kazuha’s making sure it lasts as long as possible.

Her hand on Minju’s clit, circling that spot eagerly, making Minju wail, Kazuha’s name and yours spilling out of Minju’s lips, please coming out in droves. Eyes damn near rolling back as she slumps back, intoxicated in the rapture you’re both providing. Kazuha smiles, giving Minju a kiss, anchoring her in reality while her eyes turn to you, a wink being thrown your way.

And that’s all you needed to see to keep going. Fuck Minju past her climax, take in her moans that Kazuha’s soft lips mute, feel her trembling walls take your shaft, trying to milk you. 

Doesn’t take too long for her to succeed, really. A few more thrusts, and you can only let out a groan as you fill her to the brim with your cum. Each pulse of your cock sending a fresh batch of spunk inside her. Kazuha, the sweet, diabolical bro of a girlfriend that she is, is kind enough to let Minju go. Closing her eyes as she moans at the spurts, her hands coming to caress her stomach, sighing as you spill the last of your load—larger than what you gave Kazuha almost—into Minju.

“That’s it,” Kazuha encourages, resting her head besides Minju’s, licking her lips at the sight. Her words are more for Minju than it was for you, but it still manages to make you twitch inside her. “Love getting the cum fucked into you like that? Getting to be our little breeding bitch for the night?” She cups Minju’s cheeks, thumb brushing aside the strands of hair sticking to her skin. “Bet your thinking about how fucking potent that load he just dumped inside you, aren’t you?”

That sends you straight back down to earth.

“We’re not actually trying to get her pregnant, right?” you ask them both. While you know Kazuha’s on birth control, you’re not entirely sure about Minju. Especially with how she was acting earlier.

Minju opens her eyes, letting out a chuckle at your question. “I’m on the pill.” That immediately causes you to sigh in relief. 

“It’s all in good fun, dude,” Kazuha adds, pushing herself up and getting closer to you to leave a wet kiss on your cheek. “Safe sex is great sex and all that fancy shit.”

“Right,” you sigh, attempting to pull out of Minju. Key word, attempt, because both her and Kazuha are stopping you from doing so. “Uh, guys?”

“Don’t wanna keep going?” Kazuha asks, a smirk on her face as she pushes you back into Minju. It makes you hiss, the mixture of pleasure and pain from the stimulation fatiguing you. “We need to make sure Minju gets properly bred, bro.”

“Seriously, I need a break–”

“Please?” Minju pleads, arms coming to grip your hips, pulling you in with the same rhythm as Kazuha’s pushing. “Just one more?”

The Chaewon incident that started this whole thing coming to mind, which you weren’t opposed to at all, considering the events that occurred afterwards. A few more surprises here and there with her closest friends with the other, the more recent one being Kazuha coming home, drunk off her ass along with the girls.

That was a rather interesting Friday night, you’ll say. Your body has never felt so sore in your entire life the next few days after.

Extremely worth it, for all intents and purposes however.

But, to your point, she doesn’t let you know about things that you would very much like to know beforehand. Like today, for example, when you come home from what you thought was going to be an ordinary Wednesday until—

“Hi!”

“Jesus–” This was not what you were expecting when you came home from work. Luggage bags left in your hallway, a woman that is most certainly not Kazuha sitting on your couch, sipping on one of your yogurt milk drinks as she waves at you. Which makes you question where Kazuha is. “Uh, hello?”

“You must be Kazuha's boyfriend.” The woman continues sipping on her drink, the loud slurps coming from the straw pausing as she smiles prettily at you. “She said you'd be here around this time, so I thought of saying hi.”

“Right.” You are, for all intents and purposes, extremely skeptical of this woman. Don’t know who she is, where she came from, why there’s so much of her shit scattered in your hallway. She’s just here, for reasons you have zero idea of. 

You walk to the kitchen counter, placing down your backpack before turning towards her. “Sorry, who are you?”

“Oh!” She practically jumps out of the couch, and skips straight towards you with a grin on her face. “Name’s Rei. Naoi Rei.” She outstretches a hand.

You take her hand and shake it gently, tell her your name and be answered with a cute little nod that you swear is not making you cringe on the inside or make your heart race from how adorable it was.

“So you are Zuha’s boyfriend!” she repeats, and before you could come up with a reply for it, the front door swings open once again.

“Looks like you two are getting along.” Kazuha's striding in, a shopping bag in one hand, and a small handbag in another. She stands next to you, smiling and leaning in to give you a peck on the lips before she hands the bag to Rei. “Here's some extra pillows you can use.”

Rei gasps, and you're confused on whether this woman's a walking adorable little thing or not because every action she does looks way, way too cute to be normal.

“Thank you so much, I'll pay you back before I leave,” Rei says, pulling out a pair of pillows from the bag, the paper falling down the ground.

“Don't worry about it,” Kazuha replies, placing her bag next to your pack, and you watch as Rei squeezes one of the cushions between her arm, picking up the bag on the ground and walking back to the couch with another thanks. 

Which leaves you with Kazuha. You turn to her, blinking slowly and giving her a pointed look. Your hands gesture towards Rei, who's gotten in her own world on the couch, setting up her makeshift bed on it. “So.”

“So,” Kazuha repeats, eyes following your hands. “That's Rei.”

“That is Rei, yes.” Your palms rest on your hips. “Why is Rei here with a bunch of luggage, exactly?”

“She’s asked if she can crash for a few days,” she explains, leaning her elbow on the kitchen counter. “Traveled all the way from Japan for some music festival this weekend.” Said Rei would be gone by Wednesday next week, Kazuha swears. “She won’t cause us any trouble, trust me.”

You turn your gaze back to Rei, legs up in the air while she’s hugging one of the pillows and scrolling down her phone. You can faintly hear the sounds quickly shifting from one topic to another as her thumb swipes up every so often. “And when you say trouble–” Queue your finger air quotes. “You mean she’s not going to be involved in one of your plans?”

Kazuha only smiles at you, hand rising up to pat your cheek fondly. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” There’s that familiar twinkle in your eye that you spot—one that you’re not sure whether to be excited or wary of what she’s cooking up—before she walks away.

Sighing and shaking your head, you take another look at Rei. Still busy with her phone, paying you no mind and not causing any trouble, just like Kazuha said.

You can’t help but add a ‘yet’, though.

—

Trouble, you’ve realized, decided to come in small batches over the course of the next few days.

Nothing that would get you arrested or caught in an indecent way, no. For the most part, it was you doing your usual routine with the added intrusion that Rei is living in your living room. And it causes a few odd encounters with her every now and again.

Like when Kazuha decided to jump you the following Thursday when you got home, kissing you right there in the doorway just as you opened the door to your apartment. And while it was an unexpected surprise that you would normally, wholeheartedly welcome with open arms, seeing Rei pretend that you and Kazuha are not sucking each other’s faces off wasn’t weird at all.

At least, not for Kazuha. It was odd as all hell for you when you realized that Rei was looking pretty earnestly until she got caught.

Or on Friday, where you swear to all manners of religion out there that you heard moaning outside your bedroom door when you woke up in the middle of the night because the bathroom was calling you. Suffice to say it was a quick run to and from the bathroom to avoid interrupting Rei’s potential ‘her’ time.

And you won’t lie, needing to be quiet in your own home because a guest was touching yourself was incredibly awkward, considering that’s not something anyone would ever stumble upon. Even more so when you were left alone on Saturday, when Rei was out at her festival, Kazuha coming along with her when Rei said her friend wouldn’t be able to make it.

“It’d be a great way for us to really catch up!” You remember Rei telling Kazuha before they left this morning. And for the most part, you kinda agree with her. The three of you never really seem to have a good time to sit down and hang out, outside of the two of them since they seemed rather close. You in particular, given that you’re mostly out on the weekdays that Rei started living in your apartment.

And as much as they wanted you to come with, the extortionist pricing to get tickets this late made all three of you exclaim profanities so loud that you were afraid of finally getting a noise complaint.

Aside from the rather relaxing afternoon you had cleaning up your home while watching the weekend motorsport race in an attempt to get rid of any lingering thoughts about Rei touching herself on your couch—one that you sat on for quite a while after doing the chores (you need to clean this couch soon)—and making some dinner for yourself after getting a text from Kazuha that they’ll be coming home late, you decided to call it early tonight and catch up with the two in the morning.

Which gets completely derailed when you wake up in the wee hours of Sunday, where you are awoken from the sounds that are coming from your living room. It causes you to groggily get out of bed, the intimate familiarity of your home allowing you to walk on autopilot even without fully opening your eyes.

Or have your senses wake up until you flick the light on to find Kazuha and Rei making out by the kitchen counter, the former practically shoving her tongue down the latter. 

You blink like an owl. Slowly, peculiarly, until the scene before you registers in your mind and you start looking like a deer in headlights. Then your brain finally catches up to what you’re seeing and—

“Well, good morning to you girls too.” Dragging a palm across your face, you decide to head over to grab a cup and fill it up with water. “Did you have fun earlier?”

Rei lets out a blissful hum, letting out a gasp as Kazuha leaves her lips to kiss down her neck. “Great,” she gasps, holding onto Kazuha’s locks. Rei lets out an even loud gasp when she gets hoisted up onto the counter by Kazuha, and even you were raising eyebrows at how assertive Kazuha is being tonight.

Or today, you’re not sure yourself. 

You take a good, long drink of your cup, downing it all in one go, a quiet, refreshed noise coming out of your lips before putting it down. You have half a mind to walk up and join in on whatever debauchery Kazuha’s planned, and another to go back to bed and let them have their fun, considering they’ve already started without you.

Kazuha might not even know you’re here, what with her buried completely in Rei’s chest, her hands pulling the jacket she has on away before her fingers begin to pull Rei’s top up to expose her chest and holy shit Rei being even more stacked than you thought was not in your bingo card.

Not that you were looking, of course. You were simply appreciating the times her cleavage was in display. Totally not looking down whenever you had the chance, no.

Your bro will never let you live it down. But then again, anyone would be happy to have their faces shoved full of tits, especially ones as big as Rei’s.

Kazuha included.

Speaking of, she’s finally gotten her head out of Rei’s tits and turns to you with a grin. “Hey.” Is all she says, like this is another Sunday for her (and for the most part, this was a normal Sunday before you two were a thing, the player that your girlfriend was. Still is.) “Had a good day doing nothing today?”

“I cleaned, thank you very much,” you answer, walking up next to her, arm wrapping around her waist and leaning in to give her a kiss on the cheek, like this is another Sunday for you. “I’m guessing this is how Rei is paying you back for staying?”

“Oh this was for the pillows I got her,” Kazuha says, taking your free hand and placing it on Rei’s bra-covered breast, and even with the fabric in the way you can feel how soft and large they are in your hand. Rei encourages you further, pushing her chest out for the both of you and your fingers can’t stop themselves from squeezing. “Now she’s paying us back with her pillows.”

“They are some very nice pillows,” you mutter, engrossed in the soft flesh.

Kazuha chuckles, a hand coming down to cup the bulge growing in your shorts, fondling you through your clothing. Her lips come close; kisses starting from your neck, journeying her way up to your cheek all the way until she can nibble your earlobe, cooing a question that you’ll ever answer. “Better than Kkura’s?”

Whether it be because you don’t want to hurt Rei’s feelings (especially cause you’re getting a feel of her tits), Sakura’s feelings when Kazuha eventually tells her (cause you know Sakura’s going to come barging in your apartment one night when she learns about it), or your own physical being, you can’t be sure. What you are sure of is that all three can be an option, but you’re too busy fondling Rei’s breasts to give Kazuha an answer anyway.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” Kazuha sing-songs, tugging your shorts down to your ankles. “Rei, be a dear and help me out here, why don’t you?”

“On it!” Rei’s hands come to the waistband of your boxers, and they end up right above your shorts. Your cock twitching and leaking and Christ her hands feel amazing stroking you so gently it makes you moan.

It makes Kazuha giggle; a sound that makes you fall deeper into this whole rabbit hole of fucking yet another one of her friends. “Excited now, are we bro?” And it’s like she’s reading your mind, even when she’s on her knees and looking at you with those doe eyes. Knowing that you’re just as turned on as she is, that you’ll be sharing Rei between the both of you.

That, or it could be the other way around and she’s sharing you with her friends.

“Well, don’t worry too much,” Kazuha continues, inching closer to your cock. “Let Rei and I take care of you for the night, hmm?” Her tongue gives a quick lick at your tip, making your thighs clench.

“Let me guess–” you exhale, glancing back to Rei. “Is this your thanks for letting you stay?”

“Nope!” she says, her entire face lighting up. She leans in and gives your cheek a quick peck then drops off the counter to follow Kazuha on her knees. “I’m doing this cause I’m so fucking wet right now.” Rei gives that same quick kiss to your tip, holding you by the base all while Kazuha watches by her side.

“Rei’s a little bit of a horndog,” Kazuha adds, nudging Rei lightly. Rei only nods in agreement, her tongue coming out to lick your shaft; from the tip going down to the base of your cock, she leaves no surface safe from her pretty pink muscle that’s eager to get you ready. “And she is very adventurous.”

“I can tell.” Just by the way Rei is worshipping your balls, taking each one in her mouth and rolling them with her tongue, sucking and licking away at them so goddamn well it makes you lean back onto the counter to brace yourself for when Kazuha inescapably joins in. “Christ, Zuha, you’re making me think you’ve fucked all your friends.”

“Not all of them,” Kazuha snaps back, a smirk on her lips. She gets closer to your dick, hot breath tickling you, and the air you need in your lungs gets exponentially bigger the moment her own tongue comes out to have her fun. “I’m thinking we should double team someone one of these days, though.”

Jesus, this woman truly is after your own heart. Even the mere thought of Kazuha wearing a strap, pinning Rei down and getting to stuff her in both holes sounded insane. And here she is, telling you that she’s ready and willing to go; might not even need to be Rei at all.

“Hot,” Rei comments, like her mouth isn’t preoccupied with your balls. “Can that be me? Please let it be me.”

The shit eating grin on Kazuha’s face when she hears that, paired with her eyebrows wiggling at you causes a shaky laugh to spill out of your lips. Knowing that it really, actually, might be Rei that’s going to get stuffed by the both of you in the near future makes you throb harder, pulsing around Kazuha’s hand.

Something you’ll anticipate for later, when the time comes. Right now you need to focus on not cumming too early when both Kazuha takes your cock in her mouth, tongue swirling around your cockhead just as Rei manages to take both your balls in hers. It makes you grip the counter tighter, hissing a curse and looking up at the ceiling just so the view won’t make you explode in record time.

Not that it matters, you’re only delaying the inevitable when it comes to Kazuha.

“Z-Zuha–” you stutter, a hand coming to rest on her hair, running your fingers through her locks when she takes you deep. Mouth locked firmly around your length, she sucks eagerly, cheeks hollowing out as she bobs. Up and down and up and down and down and down until her nose almost reaches your crotch. Letting out a gag before she comes up for air, stroking your spit covered cock and looks up at you with a smile.

“Problem?” The tilt of her head partnered with the grin playing her face is fucking you up seven ways to Sunday, and your fingers curled up in her hair tightens in response. Combined with the fact that Rei’s never let up on your balls, and it’s a constant barrage of pleasure that you do not have the strength to win against.

“I–fuck–” It’s embarrassing to admit, having to lose so quickly against these two, but waking up and having your dick sucked wasn't exactly what you were expecting to happen. “I’m not gonna last long.”

Rei pauses, coming up and finally giving you a moment's rest, and she is a mess. Droll running down her chin that she doesn’t bother wiping off, only slurping what she can in her mouth as she grins at you two. “Can I do the thing please?”

You turn to Kazuha. “What thing?”

“Course you can, Rei.” Kazuha gives Rei a kiss on the cheek.

“Yes!” Rei leaves one last kiss on your cock, her tongue making out with the tip and the surprise almost makes you kick your feet up. 

“Holy shit–”

She doesn't stay for long, kissing you cock one last time before she stands up. Before you can know it Kazuha is pulling you away from the counter, getting you to stand upright.

“Dude, what is she talking about?” You hold on to Kazuha's shoulders, the clothes around your ankles being a pain to move forward.

Kazuha only grins and gives you a wink. “When I said Rei was adventurous–” You can feel Rei behind you now, her hands on your shoulders, face peeking out from behind to kiss you dangerously close to your lips but pulls away to smooch you on the cheek. “She’s really adventurous.”

Rei must know what'll happen if she decides to have a taste of your lips. 

Clothes rustling behind you pique your curiosity, making you want to turn around to see Rei's breasts out of that damn bra. Wanting to feel the weight of them in your palms, pinch and play with her nipples, give them a nice, good squeeze—

A squeaky, girly noise comes out of you, shivers up your spine, your skin tingling all over the place, body locking up; it happens all at once, overloading your senses and almost making you double over if not for Kazuha holding you upright. You don’t know how to react, your body running on instinct at the burst of pleasure that’s hit you, all because of a wet intrusion poking in your taint.

“What the fuck, Rei–” The letters that constitute pronouncing her name slowly become gibberish in favor of a long, drawn out moan, your hands grabbing Kazuha’s head in an attempt to find solace. Even if you must look so fucked stupid in front of her, that smile Kazuha gives you is somehow both endearing and problematic at the same time.

“Relax,” Kazuha says, and that one word—that one, simple word—is enough to let you know that there is, in fact, a problem. “Just let go when you need to, alright?”

And when Kazuha starts to double down on the assault of pleasure being inflicted on you, you just know that you’re not going to last much longer. You’re almost hyperventilating at how potent the feeling is, the tingling becoming a numbing sensation over your body from it all.

The sensation of Rei licking around your pucker, circling it with her tongue before she does a few pokes to test your reaction. Kazuha’s head a blur from how fast her head is bobbing, blowing you so eagerly. Rei digging her fingers in your ass once her tongue plunges in to rim you. Kazuha’s gaze never losing its focus away from you, her lips suctioned at your tip, tongue circling around, flicking the slit of your cockhead while her hands stroke you.

You’re seeing stars. Blots of white start blocking your vision, the hold you have on Kazuha’s head getting firmer to hold yourself together. It’s useless trying to fight back against it, not when these two are tongue fucking you on both sides. You try to warn either of them that the inevitable is happening, but all that comes out is garbled mutterings of a man gone mad.

It just happened, is what you eventually tell the both. When your eyes roll back and your cock erupts straight into Kazuha’s waiting mouth, filling up with cum at each pulse. The hum that vibrates around your cock along with the tongue slowly licking around your taint coaxes more and more of your load to come out, and it all seems neverending.

Rei comes out from behind, leaving your backside to kneel next to your leg. A finger feathers around your taint, even as she stares at Kazuha prolongs your load. And Kazuha manages to stay attached to your cock, jerking you off to gain more of your spunk, swallowing what she can even as it starts to spill out of her lips. The wonder in Rei’s eyes as she watches, the perverse anticipation in her lips—and all you can do is moan and let it all happen.

“There you go,” Rei mutters, her thighs pushing together. “Give her all that cum. Give her everything so I can have some for myself.”

Kazuha’s lips leave your shaft and you’re crumbling to the floor, feeling like you just ran a marathon and back from the experience. Rei makes sure that you don’t hurt yourself, getting your back against the counter before she gets pulled in for a kiss by Kazuha.

Cum gets swapped between their lips, lips savouring the taste, their tongues sliding together and sharing what Kazuha has milked from you. Some spill down, some stick to their lips, most get swallowed from both. It’s all so messy, and they don’t care at all.

Somehow, someway, your cock comes to life from the view. You don’t understand how, and you’re genuinely scared to find out what happens when you figure out that your body is overruling your sense of survival for more of this.

They part, Kazuha turning to you as Rei licks up any leftover cum that’s fallen down to the former’s chest. “You look like you enjoyed that.”

“I look like I’m a fucking corpse,” you reply, causing Kazuha and Rei to giggle. “What the hell was even that?”

“Just a little thank you for cleaning up the apartment while we were off partying.” Kazuha closes the distance between you two, coming to your left. She cups your cheek, and her lips meet yours. 

Arms wrap around her waist to pull her close, and you relax. Letting yourself get swept away by Kazuha’s soft lips for a moment, whispering such a rare phrase to you in between all of the kisses that it makes you smile. You say it back, just when you feel a wet pressure around your length.

It makes you flinch in surprise, pulling you away from the moment, from Kazuha. You look down, and Rei’s in between your legs, cock popping off her lips.

“So about that double team,” Rei starts, slowly stroking you. It was enough to ease you back into hardness. She’s careful with you, making sure that the pleasure doesn’t become pain from overstimulating you. “Can that be my payment for staying here for the week?”

You share a look with Kazuha.

Kazuha shrugs. Takes a glance at Rei. Smirks.

Despite Yujin’s beauty, she got turned on by sleeping with these hideous creatures. As the leader of IVE, she had been expected to be polished and put-together at all times. She had to sing well, dance well, and also represent the group properly. As a Kpop idol, she was, after all, expected to be a good example to the youth. While she was a good leader, well-loved by her members and vice versa, she often thought about escaping the need to be perfect all the time.

That was when she discovered Role Play (RP) Studio. It was probably one of the best-kept secrets in Seoul. You got to choose from a selection of scenarios to role play, and they would pay you a hefty amount to entertain their highly imaginative and demanding clients. Though, if Yujin were being honest with herself, the large sum of money she was getting was only a small part of what made RP Studio so great. She was actually into it for the simple fact that she could lose herself and get absolutely wrecked by some ugly motherfuckers.

Today, she was playing the role of a nurse who gets raped by a horny old grandfather patient. She had donned a cute little pink dress and a nurse’s cap with a cross, complete with flimsy white stockings and shiny patent shoes. The old man in his hospital bed had asked her to “assist” him at first, which meant giving him a sponge bath. This involved lifting up his hospital gown and feeling around for his floppy, wrinkled penis. She’d then stroked and stroked it until it thrummed to life with all the energy of a young teenager. The shaft had been burning hot and extremely hard in her hands. Yujin had then pretended to be shocked when the old man showed a sudden surge of strength, jumping out of the hospital bed and pushing her onto a wheeled metal trolley. As she laid down, he’d stripped off her nurse outfit, plus ripped off her stockings to boot—thus exposing her massive pale udders to the world.

———

With a sudden surge of energy, the old man pushed Yujin back to the hospital bed. Yujin squealed as his lips covered hers, making out with her restlessly as he groped and manhandled her large, perky tits. Before she could even realize what was happening, the old man was inserting the bulbous cockhead of his penis into her weeping, gaping hole once more. “Again!” he demanded, his breath hot on her ear.

Yujin squealed as he entered her cum-filled pussy and thrust deep inside. His lengthy cock pushed past her narrow passage, forcing itself past her cervix and into her womb. Her huge white breasts bounced wildly with every jerky thrust as he railed her, the fat head of his penis jutting against her insides.

“Fuck, grandpa! You’re in so deep again!” Yujin cried out, moaning loudly. The old man’s ugly face scrunched up in pleasure, panting heavily as he pounded into her. The room filled once again with wet, obscene noises as he pummeled her poor pussy. He came hard, showering her insides with another thick load of semen, making her flat stomach bulge slightly from the sheer volume of his seed.

This was my very first smut series (way back 2019-2020ish), I was very inexperienced way back then that's why the quality may be lacking and is not on par with my latest works. I may have rushed a lot of plots, please forgive my novice-ness during the making of this series.

I am also working on continuing this one and give this series a proper ending. I wish for your continued patience.

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Prologue:

You are contacted by an entertainment group, offering you a job that would change your entire life.

One year before your favorite group part ways, you are tasked to be their "fans' representative", where all you need to do was to address the girls' feelings and comfort them in times of need.

The staff members' true intentions for hiring you are still in mystery and seem very suspicious. But just like any fanboy out there, why would you refuse the offer right?

To be honest she had to perform that massage, that was exactly what led to this situation. Because when her professor saw she was willing to do almost everything for not failing her class she took advantage of that. “You should have paid more attention to my lectures instead of gossiping with Yizhuo at the back of the class.” The stare on Nayeon's eyes was severe. “You can’t do a special test, that would not be fair for the rest of the students, those who really paid attention to what I said, but you still can earn those points.” Minjeong was waiting patiently to know what that assignment would be. “ See. Being an attractive and young professor has its pros and cons, and one of their cons is that I have to wear these heels every day.” Minjeong wasn't understanding where this was going, but didn’t dare to interrupt her professor. “ My feet feel so sore that I would really use a massage.”

So this was her task, just give her professor a simple massage on her feet. Just a few moments of discomfort for her and with that Minjeong could save her semester. It wasn´t that terrible, at least she won't have to touch Nayeon's dirty laundry. “I can do that. I’m not an expert but I'm going to give my best to leave your feet all rested and feeling good.” 

“Good girl. Of course you can´t tell anyone about this. This would be our little secret.” Minjeong moved her head in a sign of aprovation. “Now let’s get into it.” Without hesitation Nayeon reached her feet and slipped her heels off. A moment later her feet were resting over her wooden desk, waiting for Minjeong to touch them.

“No- Now?” The student wasn’t expecting to do such a thing right now. Nayeon didn’t even cleaned her feet or something, she just got rid of her shoes and that was all. 

“I have to report the students' grades by the end of this week. If it isn't right now then going to be never.”

So Minjeong was left with no option. Or she gives Nayeon a massage on her feet or better be looking for a good excuse to give to her parents to explain why she failed this class. To be fair, the first option looked so much better, that’s why Minjeong rolled up her sleeves and began giving the older woman the said massage. “Mmmm… Mis Nayeon. By any chance do you have lotion or some kind of corporal cream?” Minjeong saw in a movie that they were doing massages with that kind of things, so she decided to give it a try. For her luck Nayeon was vain enough to have lotion on one of her drawers. 

Minjeong poured lotion into her hand and then spreaded over Nayeon’s foot. The professor let out a sign of relief  when the cold lotion touched her skin and Minjeon’s finger started to work. In fact Nayeon’s feet felt like she was needing that massage with urgency, and her student was giving her best here.

“That actually feels good, maybe you’re earning those extra credits.” To be fair the student was doing a good job, even with her lack of experience in the matter. Nayeon was sitting very comfortably with her head hanging back and her hands resetting over her tummy. The professor was for sure enjoying this. Minjeong wasn’t.

Nayeon’s feet were quite popular among her weird classmates, males mostly, but Minjeong wasn’t one of those freaks. Even with her pedi being impeccably done in a silver tone, matching with her hands, Minjeong felt nothing doing this because she was touching someone else's dirty feet. Well, Nayeon’s feet weren’t dirty, the professor was spotless; but Minjeong still was a little bit disgusted by this. 

The only good thing she was getting for this agreement was that she had free rein to look at Nayeon’s legs, and that was something she liked a lot. Her professor had perfectly sculpted legs with fine calves and in some way, for a woman with her contexture, meaty thighs. Nayeon’s silky legs have always been a great distraction for Minjeong, and now that she is resting with her head hanging back and her eyes closed, is the perfect moment for her to appreciate them. 

The student's eyes wandered from Nayeon’s ankles to her thighs, and came back to her ankles again. Not missing any detail and trying to carve into her memory how absolutely wonderful Nayeon’s legs were. Was where her eyes ventured further into her professor´s thighs that she noticed something that made her blush. 

In order to sit how she was doing, and being able to open her legs to let Minjeong perform the massage, Nayeon had lifted her skirt. But maybe she lifted it a little too much because her inner thighs were on display, and Minjeong could swear she saw something more; maybe it was her imagination or maybe not. In any case the student focused again on what she was doing, instead of looking like a horny teenager at her professor's legs, with her face blushing because of the shame.  

But there is a saying that goes "Curiosity killed the cat", the thing is that Minjeong is not a cat, so she looked again. This time was more evident, or maybe the skirt magically rolled a little bit up, Minjeong really could see a glimpse of her professor’s underwear. Still not much but enough to tell the garment is white. 

A sound of satisfaction came from Nayeon's mouth and made Minjeong move her head so fast that if this were a cartoon instead of real life, her neck would have sounded like a whiplash. Her face was red, she could feel her cheeks burning. She should just focus on the massage instead of checking out her professor. Better do this quickly and return home because it was getting late.

“You said you aren’t an expert, but you’re making me feel like I was wasting my money paying for massages.” That probably was a lie, but Minjeong appreciated it anyway. “ Can you stretch my toes a little? Wearing heels all day compresses them a lot.” Saying that Nayeon sinked  more on her chair and separated her feet a little bit. 

“Ok Miss Nayeon. I’ll do it.” Minjeong tried to sound normal but from inside she was panicking. She just saw her professor’s underwear, a dream for what some of her classmates would have killed. Nayeon was quite popular among the students for being pretty and always acting funny. She was not as mean as the other professors, and always was wearing formal outfits that accentuated her figure. Nayeon was hot and she knew it, but she has never insinuated to any student. Of course there were rumors, but hot professors always got those kinds of rumors on them. 

Again with the thought that she wasn’t a cat, and with her face feeling considerably less red, Minjeong was debating if she should look again or not. Maybe a little and quick look just to have something to remember, that could not do any harm to her. So taking her time, and without stopping the massage, Minjeong’s eyes started wandering again across her professor's legs. Going up at a slow pase in case she needed to look away, but never stopping to go forward. Soon her gaze reached the point she was looking for, but what she saw this time almost made her jaw drop to the ground.

There was Nayeon, her professor, laying on her desk chair with her skirt wrinkled around her waist and her legs slightly open. Minjeong didn’t look when Nayeon changed her position, but now she was clearly seeing a lot; because with the skirt out of her way and with her legs this open the student could perfectly see her professor’s panties. 

Of course Nayeon was wearing lingerie, and of course was a thong just big enough to cover her private parts. That sight made Minjeong droll almost immediately, and leave her feeling like she was witnessing a work of art that wasn’t meant for her eyes, as if she were standing in the middle of a private galley.

Minjeong swallows hardly the knot that has formed in her throat. If her classmates would gladly commit crimes for touching Nayeon's feet she was sure they would do terrible things to have the chance she's having now, to be able to see her professor's crotch as she was seeing right now.

And as far as Minjeong could see, her professor was completely shaved. She could swear that Nayeon's skin on that spot was softer than her legs, and she really wished she could massage that tender skin instead of Nayeon's feet. Minjeong even could swear she could see something through the lace fabric of the panties. All she needs to do is close her eyes a little to have a better focus on the spot, and…

“Ahem!! Are you enjoying the view?” Poor Minjeong was so focused on checking Nayeon that she forgot to keep her hands moving and she was just holding Nayeon’s feet in place. Now her professor was staring at her with fire in her eyes and a crooked smile. After all, maybe Minjeong was a cat.

“N-no. Miss- professor. I… I…” The words were crowding in her throat and could not come out. Minjeong could feel how her face became as red as ever has been before, she was sure her face could serve a lighthouse in the middle of a storm. She practically could feel her cheeks burning for the shame of being caught looking at her professor´s crotch. “I can explain-”

“Explain what? That you are a pervert?” Despite calling Minjeong like that ,Nayeon didn’t cover herself, her skirt was still around her waist. 

“Nooo was just an accident. I didn’t mean to spy you.” Minjeong knew she was fucked up because she was caught staring directly at Nayeon’s crotch, there is no way she could get away from this. Maybe instead of failing one class she would end up being expelled, what an improvement. 

“I knew you were a pervert, like all your classmates, but never expected you to be so blatant.” Nayeon still didn't cover herself and Minjeong didn't know where to look. Her eyes were wandering across the decorations and various graduation certificates that suddenly became very interesting. Everything to no laid her eyes on her professor’s face. “Why don't you want to look at me? You were staring a moment ago.” Nayeon had her in her hands.

Suddenly Minjeong fell on her knees and gathered her hands making a gesture as she was praying to a superior being. “Please don't tell anyone.” There was no way that Nayeon could explain this to someone without getting herself in trouble, but she could lie and tell that Minjeong snuck in her office to do perverted stuff. Being a professor could guarantee easily getting away with a lie and put all the blame on her student.

“Aaaawwww!! You look so cute begging, maybe too cute.” Minjeong was waiting for a “but” and then Nayeon would sent her to the dean's office. What wasn't expecting was Nayeon, who still has her legs parted, to caress her ear with… a foot? Minjeong was frozen in the spot because her professor was using her bare foot to play on her ear. 

This was much more inappropriate than her massaging her professor's feet, but what came next was worse. Nayeon moves her foot across Minjeong cheek to her mouth and presses her toes between her lips. The student still didn't understand what was happening but for some reason allowed her professor toes into her mouth. 

“Suck it, come on. Now you need to be more proactive if you want those extra points.” The original deal was just a massage for those points, but being honest Nayeon never really said what were the characteristics of their deal; so poor Minjeong had no option but suck.

The taste was bad, after all Nayeon's feet were covered in lotion, so that was what Minjeong felt in her mouth. Feet wasn't her thing, so Minjeong put zero effort on sucking it, and after a moment the foot was separated from her mouth. “Ok, fine. If you don't like it then you can suck something else.”

If putting a foot in her mouth and making her suck it wasn't enough to earn those damn extra credits, the next idea Nayeon had definitely has to be. To Minjeong's surprise, for like the third or so time in the evening, Nayeon raised her hips and with a long single movement slid her panties down her legs. “Come here to have a better view and put your mouth to work.” 

The foot came back to Minjeong’s face but this time was used to press her head closer to Nayeon, and because she was on her knees it was impossible for her to resist. So Minjeong now was facing directly Nayeon’s most private area, and as she could see, her professor was completely waxed and pristine. “Hurry up and start eating.” Nayeon said with her knee resting placidly on Minjeong's shoulder.

“But.. But this is too much. I wouldn’t do it.” The student shook her head protesting for the new task given to her, but her eyes were still glued to her professor’s crotch. 

“So you don’t want to pass my class? Ok, but you will have to take this course next semester and I’ll make sure you end up in my classroom again.” The smile on Nayeon's face shows how she was enjoying pushing her student between the sword and the wall. “You already know I’m head of the Chemistry department. Is so easy for me to make you fail again and again…”

In Minjeong's opinion, and despite that she was enjoying the view, this was so unfair. She just came here for a few extra points, just a little help to not fail this class, and now her professor is taking advantage of that. But what Nayeon said left her with not much options, if she reprove Chemistry her parents are going to be so disappointed and mad at her that probably going to have her studding during all the vacations. All that because Yizhuo couldn’t stop updating her about the most juicy gossip in the campus. But these stories weren’t as juicy as what she had in front of her eyes.

Honestly Nayeon was hot, Minjeong has no problem admitting that, so hot that is definitely out of her league. A young professor so smart that she is already head of her department, a respected academic, an extortionist, in short a very hot woman offered to her on a silver platter. And who was Minjeong to say no? She was already salivating and all she had to do was eat her professor. Give her a good moment, also enjoy the process, and at the end of the day she will pass her class and luckily don't have to deal with her again.

“Ok…” The tone was much more of defeat than she actually felt. “I’ll do it.” All what she received in return was a giggle and a gentle push on her back. With Nayeon thigh pressed against her cheek Minjeong finally sealed her lips over her professor’s other pair of lips, in a shy kiss. Was no surprise to her that Nayeon was already excited for this, her folds were already beginning to shine with her own nectar like dew on the grass in the morning.

The taste was a hundred times better than that of her feet, an improvement that sent Minjeong in an ecstasy that she wasn’t expecting to reach anytime soon. The girl wasn’t getting laid and this is the closest she has been in months to actually having sex. Not because she didn't want to or because she wasn’t popular, but because she was so busy studying. Studying other things because obviously not chemistry, otherwise she wouldn't be in this situation. 

As Minjeong thought Nayeon’s skin was so soft there, so delicate, she felt like she was kissing silk or something similar; not even Nayeon’s legs were as soft as her private area. Suddenly Minjeong has the urge to know if her professor’s insides were as soft as her skin outside, so she softly pushes her tongue between the delicate folds parting them and gathering some of the nectar. The muffled sound of a sigh came from Nayeon´s mouth, a single proof that Minjeong was doing good to use her tongue.

The tongue was going deeper and deeper and soon Minjeong was eating with a new found hunger, putting on it all the effort she didn't put into sucking Nayeon's foot.

Nayeon used her hand to cover her mouth in an attempt to shut her moans, which were slowly increasing in volume. Minjeong wasn't that good at giving head, but clearly she was doing something good here. Much better than the massage. That, or maybe her professor wasn't getting laid either. The other Nayeon’s hand has a tight grip in the chair.

With gentle touches with her heel, more like rubbing than anything else, Nayeon encourages her student to keep being proactive. Her hand is now more busy than ever trying to mute her moans because even when this part of the building is almost empty at this time of the evening, never is good having such sounds of pleasure coming out of a professor's office.

As Nayeon tries to mute herself, Minjeong's tongue keeps exploring the insides of her entrance. Soft, warm and wet was all that Nayeon’s cunt was, the ideal environment to maintain Minjeong busy eating and drinking all of her nectar. A task that the student was doing gladly because it is the best nectar she has drunk in a lot of time, or maybe in all of her life. That to be honest hasn’t been a lot of times.

Minjeong keeps eating using her tongue and lips to do a proper job, just navigating by instinct to finally earn those extra points. Maybe being a little bit more proactive, as Nayeon said, would help her in this task. So Minjeong decided to do a bolt movement and push apart her professor's leg. Making more room for herself. The new position allows her to eat better, and Nayeon seems to be grateful for that because she uses her heel to rub Minjeong’s back once again. 

When Minjeong was spacing out just thinking about eating and how good her professor's taste was she felt a gentle hand over her head, long fingers interlocking with her hair and capturing her to maintain Minjeong in position. As if she wasn't already trapped under Nayeon's knee. Besides that, who would try to run from this? Certainly not Minjeong, despite being reluctant at the beginning now was enjoying the process of eating out her professor.

It wasn't long before Nayeon let go of Minjeong's head and used her hand to grab the arm of the chair again. If the student had been able to see, she would have noticed how her professor was gripping the chair tighter than ever. It was very clear that Nayeon was close.

Even when Minjeong was sure she wasn't that good at giving heat, especially to women, she made her professor come really fast. If this would have been a male professor it would have been really embarrassing for him, but since it was Nayeon there was no shame in having an orgasm in just five minutes. Maybe after all Nayeon wasn't getting laid at all.

After a few uncontrollable shakes of her body and holding Minjeong in place to rub her vulva against her mouth, Nayeon finally released her student for the embrace of her legs. “I was needing that.” The professor said still having trouble breathing normally, the only visible aftermath of her recent orgasm. Well, that and the fact that her hair was a little messy.

“Now you earn the right to have a special test.” Nayeon said, putting her feet on the ground and approaching Minjeong to clean out her own juices from her mouth and chin. After rubbing the sleeve of her blouse in the face of the student for a few moments Nayeon decided she was clean and let her go.

“Test?... But…. But… You said after eating you out I'll earn those points.” 

“I didn't say anything about that.” Nayeon had a sinister smirk on her face. “You had to give me a massage, and since you didn't do it because you were busy checking me out, consider giving me a head as compensation.” That wasn't fair, but once again the professor was right since she never said oral sex was part of the deal for the extra credits. 

Minjeong needs to be more careful here or Nayeon would keep changing the deal and adding tasks. Now she's talking about a test, what next? “A test?” Minjeong asked with puppy eyes and fearing the answer. “But you said you couldn't.”

“Yes, but I'm the head of the department. Also no one besides you and me is going to know about this.” As she said that, Nayeon grabbed some baby wipes from god knows where and used them to clean her crotch of all the remnants of her orgasm and Minjeong's saliva.

“Ok, but Professor. You have to promise this is the last thing I have to do.” Minjeong didn't know why she was still on her knees since no one was stopping her from standing up, but for some reason she thought defying Nayeon's authority wasn't a good idea. Even when she was drawing a line and making her point.

“Look who is getting brave” Nayeon still maintains that smirk. “But ok, this test is going to be the last thing you have to do. I promise it.” In a gesture never shown before, Nayeon pets Minjeong's head. That was weirdly satisfying to Minjeong. “Now get on your feet and take your pants down.”

 “Wait, what?” Took Minjeong a few seconds to understand what she just heard. “N-no… Why? No, wait noooo.” 

“It's an important part of the test.” Nayeon moves her hand in a gesture telling Minjeong to stand up. “Now, don't make me waste my time and get your pants off.” 

Minjeong was back on her feet but making no move to open her pants zipper. “Professor, we can't do this. This is too much. We can't have sex.”

Nayeon lets out a loud burst of laughter covering her mouth with one of her big hands. “You already ate me out. Oral sex is sex.” Another audible laugh. “But I know what you mean, and no. We aren't fucking like that. I bet your little weiner isn't worthy of that.”

“I'm not that small.”  Winter interrupted her professor’s laugh to defend her honor. “Isn't huge but also isn't small. I'm average size, and…”

“You're just giving me the reason. Just accept it is small, there is no problem…” Minjeong didn't realize that her professor was just making fun of her and didn't actually know the size of her penis.

“Isn't small!!” Rising her voice more than she probably should, Winter opens her zipper and yanks her pants down as well with her boxer. “I'm average.” Driven by the humiliation she undressed her lower part with even thinking about what she was doing.

In fact Minjeong dick wasn't that small. As she said she was average, even semi erected as it was that was easy to tell. But that doesn't seem to stop Nayeon from making fun of her.

“Ok, you aren't small.” Nayeon rolled her eyes and stopped laughing. “Maybe tiny is a better adjective.” Another loud laugh. Nayeon's smile was so big that not even her already big hand could cover her mouth.

“Professor I'm not-” Suddenly Nayeon laid a hand on Winter's right thigh and made her shiver. “... I'm not tiny. I'm…” She finished the sentence lowering her voice with each syllable until her voice was just a whisper. For some reason she was staring at the floor. And for another unknown reason that hand was raising the temperature in her crotch.

“Turn around and bend over my desk.” Wasn't a suggestion, it was a command given with a calm voice and emphasized with a small squeeze of Minjeong's thigh. Maybe that's the power, the spell, Nayeon uses to control her students. Or more accurately, her alchemy.

Minjeong did as she was told, turning around with small steps because her pants were around her ankles. She immediately missed the warm touch of Nayeon's hand over her skin. Her hands were so big, and in Minjeong’s opinion so pretty too, they were surely much bigger than Minjeong hands.

If Nayeon's feet were popular among male students, the equivalent were her hands being popular in the female population of her classroom. Or at least that was what Minjeong thought because to her feet were a weird thing to be horny about. But hands were a different story.

Nayeon has big hands, with long and slender fingers. But that far from being weird is so attractive. The professor always has her nails done and her fingers decorated with rings. One clearly could tell she was using lotion and other methods to maintain her skin soft and tender, even when she wasn't old enough to need to care about that matter.

Nayeon was smart, young, pretty, and very capable of doing whatever she would like to achieve. But she also was proud of how beautiful she's, of the effects she causes on people and the attention they give to her. She always could notice when a student or another professor was staring and eating her with their eyes, and she enjoys that.

Minjeong was thinking about Nayeon's hands when she felt one of those hands on her lower back, pushing her further. A shiver ran through her spine. “Bend over.” Nayeon repeated her command, and again Minjeong did obey without protesting. “What happened to being proactive?”

The student still didn't understand what her professor wanted from her, all she was told was to bend over the desk. “You have a nice little butt, and your balls look cute from this angle.” The touch of a single finger in Minjeong's scrotum made her tremble, this time a shiver ran through all her body.

The finger left quickly and now Nayeon puts her hands over her students butt. In fact Minjeong has a little ass, beautiful and round, pale and very soft. Nayeon's hands completely covered her buttocks and separated them revealing the wrinkled entrance of her anus. 

“Also cute, and clean too.” Nayeon murmured for herself before finally standing up. The student couldn't see what her professor was doing due to the position she was in, but she felt when her buttocks were released. No jiggle, they just returned with one single movement to their natural form hiding her rear entrance.

“Spread it for me.” Nayeon spanked the beautiful ass in front of her. For some reason her hand was cold and wet now. “Come one. I have other things to do.”

“Why spreading my ass is part of the tes-” The professor poked Minjeong's scrotum again, causing the latest to interrupt what she was saying to release a pathetic whimper. That single touch seems to be all Nayeon needed to convince her student.

Minjeong reached her own butt and spread it as she was told. Her face was bright red for the embarrassment of exposing herself like that. “Let's get it to it.” Another cold touch from Nayeon, this time her fingers landed in Minjeong's perineum and slowly went up to her wrinkled entrance.

Two fingers were making circles and daubing in her ass what Minjeong only could guess as the same lotion she previously used to massage Nayeon's feet. The substance was cold, making her tremble because of that freezing touch in such a private area. 

Nayeon's fingers were tracing circles and applying a little pressure, but never treating to go inside, to invade Minjeong in such a perverted way. Just circling around and smearing the viscous substance between Minjeong butt crack.

Despiste her initial doubts, all that action in her rear was making Minjeong dick hard. But her pulse was rising and with every pump was also a bit of shame drumming in the back of her heart. She was leaning over her professor's desks, with her ass wide open, and Nayeon threatening to do only God knows what to her. This was an abuse of power no matter the angle one could look at it.

But Minjeong was still enjoying it. She ate her professor's cunt, at some point her delicious nectar was covering her mouth and lips, and now was being touched in an inappropriate way. Has been so long since someone touched her like that, since she fucked someone or someone fucked her. That's why arousal was taking over her despite not being comfortable at all, that why she was softly whimpering when Nayeon was just spreading lotion in her ass.

“Ok, I think you're ready.” Nayeon pressed one single fingertip over Minjeong anus and opened it a little bit. Just a few millimeters went inside and then quickly left, but the finger reminds over her poor back entrance. “Rules are simple. I'm going to ask you five questions, if your answers are correct something good is going to happen to you. Answer the five correctly and those extra credits are finally yours.” Nayeon uses her free hand to fix Minjeong's blonde short hair in the back of her ear. “But if you fail this test, you fail my class.” Nayeon closes the distance between her and her student to whisper to her ear. “ Are you following me?”

Minjeong hardly swallowed the saliva that was gathering in her mouth. “Yes Professor. Five right answers and I will pass your class.” What that has to do with pressing a finger against her ass was something Minjeong didn't understand at all at that time. Maybe that would be the punishment if she fail a question, sexual torture gonna be the way to discipline her.

“Good, first question. What have the neutral atoms of all of the isotopes of the same element?”

“What? This is hard, how I am supposed to kn-” Nayeon tapped Minjeong's ass with her finger, cutting her words.

“If you attend my class you should know that. Now answer, this is just the first question.”

“Ok. They have… they have… The same number of electrons!” Minjeong answered maybe too excited to be right about something that basic. 

“Good girl, that's right. You have one good. Now your reward.” Without warning and against all Minjeong was thinking was gonna be her reward, Nayeon pushed her finger against her anus. This time she didn't stop after the tip but kept pushing until the two first phalanxes of her finger were inside her student.

Minjeong's body shivered due the unexpected invasion and the wave of pleasure that action caused her. More pleasure than she should be feeling for this, for her professor taking advantage of her and finger-penetrating her ass. But Nayeon’s finger felt so good opening her rear entrance, invading her. Wrong but pleasant at the same time.

With a single movement a big portion of that long and slender finger went inside her rectum. Minjeong could feel the icy touch against her walls and anus. Thank God that digit was coated with lotion and entered really easily. More easily than Minjeong would like to admit here.

With the intrusion a pathetic whimper leaves the student's mouth. One that she was fast to mute using her hands, but that means she leaves her butt.

“You need to pack yourself and maintain your butt open for me. Bite your lip or something because I swear to God if someone hears your pathetic moans you are going to know what is good.”

“Why is putting a finger inside of me a reward?” Minjeong asked in a tone of protest and defeat. However her hands returned to spread her butt cheeks.

“I ask the questions here. Now get ready for the second one, this is very easy.”Nayeon changed the tone to the one she uses when giving her lectures, before continuing. “How many p electrons are in an atom of rubidium?”

That was an easy one? Really? Minjeong could not get herself to remember at what time of the semester she learned that, she wasn’t even sure to know what element rubidium was. Maybe shutting her eyes could make her focus on remembering the information she needed and not on the fact that Nayeon was moving her finger. At a tortuous pace, but still moving it. 

“Eighteen.” That sounded more like a question than a proper answer, luckily for her her professor didn’t notice that and counted it as a good answer. 

“Ok, another good one.” This time Minjeong was prepared for what was coming, but that didn’t help at all to dilute the feeling of a second finger penetrating her. The student has to rest her forehead against the cold surface of the wooden desk, and press her lips together to not let any sound escape from her mouth. A really hard task that she failed to archive when a new, and more pathetic, whimper echoed throughout the room. And the finger was still midway when that happened. At least this time she didn’t let go of her cheeks.

“Ok, that’s all. Open your mouth.” If she was commanded to not make sounds why Nayeon now wanted her to open her mouth? That didn’t make any sense to Minjeong until she felt something soft pressed against her lips, something made of a thin laced fabric. Not just her mouth but her eyes were wide open when she realized that what Nayeon was trying to put inside her mouth to mute her was in fact, the pair of panties she was using today. The same pair she removed to allow Minjeong to eat her out. “For now if you're not answering one of my questions you're going to keep that in your mouth.”

This new punishment was really humiliating, maybe more than the others, and Minjeong was feeling sick for enjoying it. The used underwear inside her mouth as well as the two fingers going slow but relentless in the task of invading her rectum cavity have her leaking. Her dick was pressed against the edge of the desk, and that was the only relief she was having, but with every new centimeter on Nayeon’s fingers that went inside of her, her shaft throb as if it were alive.

But at least with the garment inside her mouth she was able to moan more freely, even when being honest the thong wasn't really big. It was just a small triangle with some laces, that actually didn’t cover much of her owner’s anatomy. The other good part was that at least the underwear wasn’t stinky. 

“Look who is being a good girl and is taking my fingers very well.” Nayeon giggles at her own words. “Move your head if you are ready to continue.” However, making fun of her, Professor Nayeon waited for the confirmation that her student was doing ok before making the next question. “ Ok so. What of this alkaline earth metal is located in period 3. Lithium, sodium, calcium, magnesium, or strontium?”

So far this was the hardest question, but Minjeong was sure she knew the answer. She was sure Nayeon talked about this one day that Yizhuo didn’t attend her class, that was why she was able to focus on what her professor was saying. So when the underwear was taken from her mouth she was ready to give an answer. 

“I’m sure is lih-” When she was mid sentence Nayeon, in a diabolical act, separated those fingers she had inside her student. Not enough to make her cry of pleasure but far enough to make Minjeong reconsider her answer. “ Magnesium, it is magnesium. I was just kidding.” She tried to justify herself, because she knew Nayeon helped her with this one.

Soon the used underwear was back in her mouth and Nayeon was separating her fingers once again, this time pushing them far away than the first time. Forcing Minjeong’s anal walls to adapt to this new dimension, preparing them for what was coming. 

When the professor decided that her student was ready patted her head before pushing a third finger inside her rectum. Another long digit slowly goes inside Minjeong, pushing her to her limit, spreading her ass wide open. The poor student never before has taken something as big as three of Nayeon's fingers together. They were slender, sure, but three at the time was still too much for Minjeong. 

Electricity was running through her spine as that third finger was invading her. The loud moans almost weren't contained by the underwear so Minjeong still had to press her lips together, putting all her strength on that and into maintaining her buttocks open so her professor could continue ruining her rear. 

Her poor hole was stretched to a new whole limit, and that has Minjeong's dick twitching and leaking more precum. At this point she was sure the desk had a big stain and maybe the carpet under her feet too.

Minjeong felt so pathetic exposed as she was, with her ass being stretched by her professor, and her small dick arching for some real friction. Not just the illusion that was the contact with the wooden surface but real action, like a hand wrapping around her length and stroking her until she exploded. Maybe if she's a good girl Nayeon would allow her to cum, who knows.

For her part Nayeon was enjoying this too. Her private parts were glistening again with her own arousal. Maybe having total control over her student was turning her on, or maybe how dangerous it was for her career to do that in her office. If someone sees her with her fingers buried inside a student that definitely would be the end for her, and that risk has her cunt throbbing with emotion.

Despiste those malicious rumors a jealous coworker spread about her some years ago, Nayeon never has done such a perverted thing as having sex in her office, much less with a student. Maybe one or two times she snuck a hand under her skirt to help her to deal with the stress of her work, but never was more than rubbing herself for a few minutes. This time with Minjeong was actually the first time she actually had an orgasm in her office.

Obviously Nayeon is a pervert, she never gonna try to deny that, otherwise why would she have three of her fingers buried as deep as she could inside her student’s butt? And obviously she has done some things like this in the past. But it has been so long since she actually had sex with someone, since the last time she had someone bending like that for her. She isn't a natural top, but being in charge does inexplicable things to her. The power of having someone surrendered over her, completely devoted to her, with their attention centered on what she’s doing, is so intoxicating that she’s feeling how her arousal is rising again. So when she saw an opportunity with Minjeong, she jumped at the chance.

“Are you good?” Despite taking advantage of her position Nayeon isn't a sadist, she has no intention of harming her student, just wanna ruin her a little and release some stress in the process. 

Obviously Minjeong couldn’t speak because of the garment in her mouth but she moved her head up and down in an energetic way to point out that she’s doing ok even with her ass being full of her professor’s fingers.

“Ok, then just two more questions.” Minjeong kinda panicked when she released that there are two more questions left, the same number of fingers that Nayeon hasn't put inside her yet. Is she going to fist her? That idea made Minjeong’s blood pressure rise to the sky, because there is no way another finger fits inside her, let alone a whole hand. But she didn't have time to think about it before her professor made the next question. “What is the approximate pH of a solution labeled 0.050 M HClO?”

“Hoomm iimm gamma kmmon?” Minjeong's voice was muffed by the underwear and only an unintelligible murmur was heard. At that, Nayeon removed the garment from her mouth.

“What? You have the solution that fast?” Nayeon was surprised that Minjeong had the answer so quickly, given that she wasn’t putting too much attention on her lectures. 

“No, but how am I supposed to know? I can’t do the math in my head?” How Nayeon rolled her eyes was imperceptible for the student, also was how the professor opened a drawer and took a small notebook and a pen from there. All she could see was when Nayeon tossed those things in front of her face.

“Ok, fine. You can let go of your buttocks and do the math, your ass is already open. But for god sake be quick.“

Minjeong never had been so fast to grab a piece of paper and a pen before, but this time she did it as if her life depended on that. After writing the first scribbles, she crossed them out with such force that she almost tore the paper. Now, more carefully, she started the calculations again, but she found it hard to concentrate with her ass so full. It was as if her rear was burning and protesting to come back to their original wrinkle form, not this madness of being stretched up like that.

For her luck Nayeon didn’t try to open her finger this time, or do any other trick. After all, the professor knew if she wasn't gagged, so any attempt to play with Minjeong would result in her student making noises that neither of them wanted to be heard outside the office.

“I… I have it.” Minjeong was sure this time after checking her answer a few times. “It is four point forty one.

“Who could imagine that you would know so much? Maybe I should do the same test to Yizhuo to find out if she learned something too.” The tone was playful, as if Nayeon were contemplating the idea of having Minjeong's classmate in the same position as her. Perhaps a fantasy too greedy. “Here comes your reward, so get this in your mouth again and relax…” 

Minjeong never knew what was the rest of the phrase because she tried to protest but the underwear was forced into her mouth again. With that all she could do was shut her eyes and press her lips tight waiting to feel another intrusion into her ass, expecting to feel how the four finger was forced into her already stuffed entrance. But that never came to happen because what Nayeon did was caress her scrotum and then grab her hard dick.

And involuntary shiver ran truth Minjeong’s entire body when she felt the touch over her balls, and what was yet the most pathetic whimper she had ever released, escaped from her mouth when Nayeon grabbed her dick. She was needing that touch so bad that almost came at the instant.

In fact Minjeong’s penis felt almost tiny between Nayeon’s fingers, a combination of her length and the fact that her professor had big hands. In any case Minjeong’s dick fit perfectly in the warm embrace of that hand, so perfect that her scrotum was receiving some stimulation too. Her dick and balls were at the complete mercy of her professor.

What came next had Minjeong whimpering as a little puppy, because Nayeon moved her hand three times, just three times. Giving but at the same time denying the long-awaited friction on her private parts. A motion perfectly calculated to torture Minjeong.

The poor student was ready to let all go and release her semen directly into her professor's hand, but as suddenly as the motion started, stopped a few seconds before. All that was given to her were just three pumps and nothing more. Something that made her very frustrated, and yearning for more.

“Huuughh! I just touched you and you already made a mess in my hand.” Minjeong was leaking so much precum that her professor could feel how her fingers were coated in the viscous and crystal clear fluid. 

Obviously Minjeong could not say sorry for that, but that doesn't stop her from feeling embarrassed. She was being so pathetic, completely folded over Nayeon's will, ready to serve her and for what? For just a few extra credits. At this point this was about something else, because Minjeong was feeling like she was giving too much for just passing a class, this wasn't an equivalent exchange. But once again that turned her more.

The feeling of her small dick completely covered by Nayeon's big hand, with her long and pretty fingers wrapped around her length, was intoxicating. For the other part the hand in her rear was feeling so good too, much more that she will ever be willing to admit. But how would she pretend that that isn't true if she was already leaking after the first finger went inside her?

Minjeong's world almost fell apart when that wonderful hand left her shaft. She thought it was going to be wrapped around her all the time.

“Time for the last question. Again you can do the math.” The student didn't notice that Nayeon made a pause to lick the precum out of her fingers,  she thought she was just being dramatic. “What is the volume of a 2.50 gram block of metal whose density is 6.72 grams per cubic centimeter?”

Fuck Yizhu for getting her on this trouble, was what came to Minjeong's mind when she heard the last question. She never has been good enough in math, and that was her less favorite part about chemistry. But now that was what was separating her from owning those damn extra credits and finally getting those fingers out of her butt, because notwithstanding that in fact that was very pleasant her sore sphincter was getting tired of being open like when a snake engulfed an egg.

“It is 0.372.” Was the answer she gave to Nayeon when the latest once again removed the used underwear from her mouth. This time took her longer to calculate it, but she was sure she was right at the first attempt. Maybe it was the urge for being touched again that made her focused on the given task.

“That's right. I'm impressed that you actually did it, and have to inform you that you have successfully passed this test and my class.” After all, she was able to put more than fingers inside Minjeong and actually made her learn a thing or two. That has to count for something, and Nayeon would have given her student a congratulatory clap if her hands weren't so busy.

“Thank you professor. Now can I- Aaanngghh!!” Of course Minjeong was a fool for thinking that that  was all, that Nayeon was going to release her just like that. Her professor separating her fingers was proof enough that she was wrong.

Nayeon didn't separate her finger too much, just a few millimeters, but that was enough to let her student know that they weren't done yet. And once again Minjeong was covering her mouth with her hands, she even put Nayeon's underwear back inside her mouth when she had the chance.

“Before you can go there is one last reward.” Nayeon's voice was calm, comforting in some way, but still could listen in there a glimpse of enjoyment. As if she were making fun of her student reactions. “Just be patient and cover your mouth.” This time was the whisper to her ear that made Minjeong shiver, how Nayeon pressed their bodies together to reach her and say that only for her, as if they were surrounded by a crowd and those worlds were meant only for her.

Everything started with a gentle touch on Minjeong's scrotum, just a caress over her balls, and then Nayeon's fingers slowly going down until they were wrapped over her hard shaft. 

The whimpers were not long in coming because poor Minjeong was so sensitive there that having her professor's fingers descending as snakes over her skin was already too much. The fingers inside her were warming her guts in a way that she never has felt before, and the ones on her shaft were sending jolts through her spine.

Her dick felt so small in the embrace of that hand, smaller that it actually is, perhaps embarrassing her or perhaps turning her on. Or maybe both at the same time, because Minjeong’s feeling were overwhelming even when Nayeon hasn't moved her hand yet again.

When the first movement happened Nayeon could easily hear her student's muffled moans. She was no longer whimpering but moaning, all with just one pump of her hand. By the time she reached a stable rhythm her hand was covered in Minjeong's precum. The girl was leaking so much that was making Nayeon's work easier. Her own leak was serving as lotion to masturbate her.

As if that wasn't enough the other hand was moving too, just that slowly, fucking Minjeong in the ass. Making a complete mess out of the poor student that came to this office just to ask for a few extra credits.

Her butt was sore. Stretched to its maximum for so many minutes, but the burning feeling was good. Lotion made Nayeon's task easier and as long as her professor didn't push too much inside her she was just feeling pleasure. The nerves endings inside her rectum where being more stimulated than ever before, so Nayeon could have easily made her student cum just by finger-fucking her ass. But that would have been too easy for her.

“God, you're so pathetic with your cute ass stretched and you small dick being milked.” Nayeon says just to assure the power she has over her student, and Minjeong couldn't defend herself because she was busy covering her mouth, and in fact she was feeling pathetic too. Also there was the thing that she had completely surrendered to her professor. What else could she do with a hand buried in her ass and another stroking her dick?

All that was left to her was moan and tremble while waves of pleasure were crushing inside her body. That hand in her shaft was making pervy wet sounds since it was completely coated in her precum, and the other hand has stopped but replaced the movement for being buried as far as it could.

Nayeon increased the rhythm of her strokes to a point that was unsustainable to her student, clearly attempting to make her reach her limit, and Minjeong once again did as she was told. Only that this time she wasn't told with words but actions.

The young student's final climax did not disappoint Nayeon. With shivers and moans, and contracting her rectum like crazy, Minjeong spilled her semen into her professor's hand. A lot more semen that one could imagine those small balls could store.

If Nayeon's hand was already coated in fluid now it was worse. But she didn't stop stroking, milking her student until the last drop of semen left her body. For Minjeong was a totally new experience because she was feeling how her dick was submerged in her own semen, and that was like floating in a viscous cloud.

The student was still covering her mouth, trying to not make any noise audible outside the office, when Nayeon pulled out her fingers. All at once and without saying anything. If Minjeong could have had another orgasm instantly, but her balls were already empty.

Having her asshole stretch was one thing, but the sudden absence of the fingers inside her left her anus yearning for more, in so short time she had already gotten used to the feeling of being full. But her ass was now empty and started to close slowly, remaining open for a few seconds in a very nasty and perverted way that Nayeon obviously admired and found cute.

Now it was the turn of the other hand to leave Minjeong's shaft. At the instant some drops of semen leaked to the floor and over the student's clothes that were around her ankles. Minjeong's dick still was covered in her semen and her ass was sore, but she was finally free from her professor's claws.

“You can clean yourself before leaving.” Nayeon said casually sitting on her chair, as if she hadn't just ruined her student’s rear. “There is my private bathroom. It's small but works.”

Minjeong was still catching her breath, still with the underwear in her mouth. The orgasm she just experienced was powerful enough to make her dizzy. Her dick was still twitching against the air, and her ass was sore until the point she was sure that she was going to have some trouble walking normally.

Trying to compose herself, the student lifted her clothes in an attempt to cover at least her thighs, since her crotch and butt were smeared with semen and lotion and she didn’t wanted to stain her underwear. Indeed her asshole made that task difficult and uncomfortable.

“Come on. I have other things to do.” The professor was cleaning her hands with the same wipes she cleaned her crotch before, and casually as if it were nothing she licked some rest of semen between her fingers. Minjeong wanted to say something but words didn't come out of her mouth, in part because she was still gagging with Nayeon’s underwear.

She just spat the garment out of her mouth and left it over the desk, covered in her saliva, maybe completely ruined. Ruined as she was, with her ass sore and her small dick now soft. And with that, without saying anything, Minjeong walked bow-legged, and with occasional whimpers due the soreness of her butt, to the small bathroom. To clean herself from the aftermath of the special test.

Actually, there were other professors who taught that class, but Minjeong was sure that as soon as the head of the Chemistry Department saw her name among the new semester’s students, she would immediately place her in her class. What she hadn’t expected at all was to end up as Nayeon’s teaching assistant; that took her completely by surprise.

A couple of weeks after the semester began, Nayeon had called her into her office. Not knowing what to think, Minjeong went only to find, to her surprise, that Nayeon wanted her to be her assistant; or rather, that she was going to force her to be one. With a couple of threats to fail her if she didn’t accept, and some other forms of blackmail, Minjeong had no choice but to become the assistant to the head of the chemistry department.

Now she walked into Nayeon’s office without even knocking. She simply pushed the door open, holding the stack of papers firmly in one arm, while her backpack hung from the other shoulder. Nayeon barely looked up from her computer when she heard the door; somehow she knew without looking that it was the girl who had entered.

“Did you finish handing out the guides I asked you for?” she asked indifferently as she pounded on the keyboard, entering data into the computer.

“Yes, everyone got theirs.” The girl walked over to a shelf next to the desk and set down the stack of papers she’d been carrying. More out of surprise than at the audacity of the act, Minjeong nearly stumbled into the shelf when she felt Nayeon’s hand grab her buttock. Looking up at her professor, she realized the woman was still typing with her other hand, barely paying her any attention.

“Do something useful and lock the door while I finish writing.” Nayeon let go of her buttock and went back to writing with both hands. “Now I need you naked from the waist down,” she added casually when she heard the click of the lock.

“I thought you were going to tutor me today.” Minjeong pouted, but Nayeon paid her absolutely no attention. The truth was that Minjeong had managed to get something good out of this deal she’d been forced to accept, and she’d convinced Nayeon to give her private lessons once a week. It was the only way she could keep up with regular classes because advanced chemistry had turned out to be very difficult for her. Which was normal, considering she’d spent almost the entire last semester whispering with Yizhuo at the back of the classroom instead of paying attention to what Nayeon was explaining. That was exactly what had led her to this situation.

"Not today, I want to do something different today."

“But we’re supposed to have a test in two weeks.” Minjeong didn’t budge an inch from where she was standing. “I want to prepare properly.”

“It doesn’t matter.” Nayeon brushed off the girl’s complaints without taking her eyes off the computer. "You can retake it in my office later, or I can adjust your grade. Now take your clothes off; I don’t have all day.” She gestured impatiently with her hand.

Unable to believe what she’d just heard, Minjeong sighed and began unzipping her shorts. She’d have to add that to the long list of transgressions Nayeon had committed for the sole purpose of keeping her close. In the months that had passed since the start of the semester, Minjeong had become her professor’s sex toy. It didn’t take long after the girl agreed to be the professor’s assistant for her to reveal her true intentions, and the scene they’d experienced at the end of last semester repeated itself, over and over and over again, until Minjeong had lost count of how many times it had happened. Exactly what she was looking for when she signed up for this class, whether she admits it or not.

Wondering what her professor would make her do today, Minjeong did as she was told and took off her shorts and then her boxers. When she was done, she left them in a corner next to her backpack and went to stand next to Nayeon, who continued typing on the computer, indifferent to her presence.

After a long minute, Nayeon finally looked up from the computer to glance at the student. Licking her lips and with lust in her eyes, she grabbed her by the hips, resting her large hands on the girl’s body, which made her shiver with pure anticipation. “So obedient.” Nayeon smiled to herself.

These were the seconds when Minjeong didn’t know what would become of her, like the calm before the storm. Nayeon watched her for a few moments before deciding what to do, what today’s torture would be. When she had made a decision, she stood up, and to Minjeong’s disappointment, she let go of her hips.

“I Think I already know what we're going to do today.” The professor took a step forward, causing Minjeong to step back, and then another so that the girl was trapped between the desk and the woman. “Do you want to know?”

Without waiting for a reply, Nayeon pushed her toward the desk, and of course she didn’t try to stop her, nor did she resist when her thighs touched the edge of the desk and Nayeon gave her another gentle nudge on the shoulders. Minjeong did nothing to prevent her professor from lifting her onto the desk and placing her on a section that was strangely free of papers or decorations, almost as if it were a spot meant to be occupied by Minjeong.

The girl found herself lying on the desk, naked from the waist down, wearing only her sneakers and shirt. Which, of course, offered no coverage for her private parts. In what had already become a habit, once again Minjeong was completely at Nayeon’s mercy. This was emphasized even more when Nayeon used her legs to spread Minjeong’s apart.

The professor’s long fingers traced the girl’s thighs, giving her goosebumps wherever they touched. Despite her apparent habit of being subjected to the woman’s inappropriate caresses and touches, Minjeong still got nervous. The door was locked, that was true, and if anyone tried to enter the office, she could always grab her things and run to the bathroom to fix herself up. No one would suspect that the professor’s assistant was in her office. Still, the older woman’s caresses continued to make her nervous; no matter how many times she felt them on her skin, she could never be sure where she would be touched next or what the professor would do to her.

“Why so nervous? Relax, I’m not going to do anything to you that you don’t like…” Nayeon let her words hang in the air as she grabbed the girl by the back of her thighs and lifted her legs. “Your pathetic little thing is already hard.” The taunt was accompanied by a light tap of a finger on Minjeong’s member, which, despite everything, was painfully erect.

“L-l-let me up—” The girl’s words trailed off as Nayeon pulled her so her ass was hanging off the desk.

“Hold your legs for me.” Nayeon ordered, bending Minjeong’s legs to bring her knees closer to her face. She obeyed without objection, placing herself in an even more humiliating position.

“I’ve wanted to do this for a long time.” Nayeon seemed to say that more to herself than to her student, as if she were thinking out loud rather than trying to communicate something. Minjeong thought about asking what it was she wanted to try, what today’s delicious torture would be, but before she could formulate the question, she felt Nayeon spread her buttocks and bury her face in her ass.

The next thing the girl felt was her professor’s warm, wet tongue sliding along the crack of her ass. A shiver ran through her as she felt Nayeon slowly licking her anus, as her professor took her time exploring every corner of her sensitive back entrance. Minjeong had to press her lips together because she had already learned that she wasn’t supposed to make any noise, at least not too much, and that if she went beyond what was allowed, she’d end up with Nayeon’s underwear stuffed in her mouth. It wasn’t that she didn’t like that; in fact, on more than one occasion, she had moaned louder than she should have just to tease Nayeon.

The girl shook her head to banish those thoughts from her mind, as if that would erase the fact that even though Nayeon was clearly abusing her status and position of power, she was enjoying this too. As pathetic as it seemed, there was something incredibly exciting about letting the older woman do whatever she wanted with her, and hearing the humiliating words she directed at her, especially about the size of her penis, stirred something deep within her. Something she wasn’t willing to admit, but which she clearly enjoyed immensely.

There was no point in denying it when she herself, without any pressure, had signed up for a class she didn’t need and had agreed to be her professor’s assistant. She had backed herself into a corner knowing that Nayeon was the one wielding the sword, and now she couldn’t escape this situation even if she wanted to. Which, in reality, she didn’t want to.

Nayeon’s expertise in sucking Minjeong’s ass was incredible; she clearly had a lot of experience with this. Her tongue traced circles around her entrance and gently pressed against her sphincter, never using too much force, only threatening an intrusion that never came. But she didn’t stop there; Nayeon also sealed her lips around her anus from time to time and sucked, making Minjeon feel like she was in heaven. The things the professor could do with her mouth were incredible and made Minjeong wonder where she had learned to do that, whether she was the first student to find herself in this situation with Nayeon or if those rumors were true.

“God. Your ass tastes so good.” The professor’s face was somewhat hidden by the angle and by the girl´s own cock, but Minjeon caught a glimpse of the woman licking her lips, savoring the taste of her back entrance. Then she spread her buttocks and spat directly into her anus, perhaps the most obscene act she’d seen her do so far. And that, in fact, was a long list of obscenities that she had witnesses her professor do Minjeong couldn’t take it anymore and moaned softly, which earned her a disapproving look from Nayeon.

“I’m sorry.” She apologized, feeling her cheeks burn. “I couldn’t help it.”

“Control yourself, or you know what will happen.” Maybe it was worth letting herself go just to be punished. It was a good way to find out if Nayeon was enjoying this as much as she was. If she shoved her panties into her mouth, Minjeong would know for sure just how wet her professor was, but she decided it was better not to provoke her any further for now.

The girl’s small, wrinkled anus throbbed with a life of its own as her professor’s tongue resumed its caresses, carelessly spreading her spit everywhere. Nayeon sucked on her ass, giving it her all to enjoy it, not caring that her forehead was pressed against Minjeong’s balls or that her face was rubbing against the girl’s ass. Somehow that made this feel more like a reward than abuse.

The blatant obscenity with which her professor explored her back entrance obviously made her cock throb uncontrollably, completely neglected and crying out for caresses. But Minjeong wouldn’t for the world stop holding her legs or pleasure herself when Nayeon hadn’t given the order; past experiences told her that wasn’t allowed for her. That despite how much she enjoyed it all, she was her professor’s toy; something she wasn’t proud of enjoying as much as she did.

“If you behaved, I’ll give you a reward.” Minjeong heard her professor’s promise between slurps and moans and pressed her lips together tighter. What could Nayeon give her that would feel more like a reward than having her tongue pressing against her anus? Minjeong couldn’t think of anything else right now, largely because she was putting all her strength into not moaning like crazy. The obscenities her professor was doing to her were so delicious they were frying her brain.

When she felt the warm tongue leave her anus, the girl almost protested, but she managed to remember in time who was in charge of the situation. Still, she let out a sigh when she felt the tongue move upward, tracing circles across her perineum, and ended up giving her scrotum a long lick. What came next made her moan without a shred of remorse; nothing in the world could have made her suppress the beautiful, pathetic sound that escaped her mouth when Nayeon closed her lips over her scrotum and sucked her balls.

“Shhhhhhh!!” The professor silenced her, as if Minjeong didn’t know she’d broken the golden rule. “I told you to behave.” Without waiting for any response from her student, Nayeon plunged her face back between the girl’s legs to play with her balls, sucking one while caressing her thighs or grabbing her buttocks with both hands.

Having Nayeon eat her ass like that had been wonderful, but the way she sucked her balls and caressed her thighs was on another level. As much as she loved feeling her professor’s warm tongue exploring the deepest recesses of her anus, having both her balls sucked at the same time was something she had never experienced before.

Right now, with both of Minjeong’s balls stuffed in her mouth, Nayeon probably looked like a squirrel with its mouth full of nuts. The way she sucked on the balls didn’t stop her from using her tongue to caress them, making the girl’s heart skip a beat at the wave of new sensations flooding over her. She could hardly imagine that this was only the beginning.

No matter how many times it happened, Minjeong couldn’t get used to having Nayeon’s large hands playing with her dick. The sheer difference in size drove her wild. It was something that caused a short circuit in her brain because it always came after her professor had spent some time with her, never before. Nayeon never touched Minjeong directly there; she always made sure to grope her body and tease her about how small her penis was. The girl would never forget that time a few months ago when Nayeon jerked her off in front of the bathroom mirror, while complaining about Minjeong’s size. The professor simply covered her mouth with her hand while forcing her to watch as she masturbated her.

Despite that whole experience, Minjeong still found it fascinating how her professor’s long fingers gently gripped her throbbing member and wrapped around her meat to masturbate her. This time, that was accompanied by Nayeon’s tongue caressing her scrotum and occasionally sliding down to lick her anus, so the girl was using all her strength to keep from moaning uncontrollably.

The dual sensation of Nayeon’s fingers on her member and her tongue caressing her balls was driving Minjeong wild. It was more than she was used to receiving; it was more than any sexual partner had ever made her feel before. Nayeon was, by a wide margin, the most experienced person she had ever been with. The way she sucked on her balls and stroked her shaft at irregular intervals to maximize the sensations made that clear. Only a truly experienced person could do that as well as Nayeon was doing it; only someone with her expertise could elicit those delicious sounds that Minjeong was trying so hard to stifle.

Then the girl couldn’t take it anymore. When Nayeon gripped her shaft, wrapping her thumb around the base and the back near the head, while also pressing her tongue against Minjeong’s anus to penetrate her just a little, the student could no longer hold back and let out a long, plaintive moan that echoed throughout the room.

“Enough.” Nayeon’s tone was clearly annoyed, something Minjeong couldn’t quite understand because she had moaned because of Nayeon. If her professor didn’t want her to make noise, then she shouldn’t have done those things that felt so good, but deep down the girl knew that Nayeon was doing it on purpose to torture her.

“Bu-but… But.” Minjeong knew what was coming because she was well aware she had earned it. With her eyes wide open, she watched as her professor stood up, reached under her skirt, and slid her underwear down her legs. Still holding her own legs, Minjeong opened her mouth to receive Nayeon’s thong. As if it were routine, the woman positioned the used garment in the girl’s mouth, pushing it in with her long fingers.

Instantly, the taste of her professor filled Minjeong’s mouth, confirming that her crotch had indeed grown wet as a result of the abuse she was inflicting on her student´s private parts. On the other hand, the girl could now afford to make a little more noise, since the garment would muffle her moans as long as she didn’t get too loud.

Nayeon knelt down again and buried her face between the student’s buttocks, giving her a long lick from her anus to the base of her penis, which she gripped the same way she had before. Muffled moans escaped Minjeong’s mouth as her professor began to masturbate her, moving her hand slowly while continuing to lick her scrotum.

It wasn’t as if the girl were an expert in the delicate art of ass-licking, but in her opinion, Nayeon was using more saliva than necessary. The space between her buttocks was completely soaked in Nayeon’s saliva, and more droplets were running down from her balls. When another spit landed right on her anus and Nayeon then spread it using her fingers, Minjeong had a hunch as to why she was using so much saliva. Confirmation of that suspicion wasn’t long in coming.

Drawing circles with two of her long fingers over the girl’s rear entrance, Nayeon began to apply pressure. Gradually increasing the force with which she pressed against the delicate sphincter, she was always careful not to neglect the girl’s balls or cock. Minjeong’s anus practically began to throb with anticipation because she knew very well what was about to come.

With the ease that months of practice had given her, Nayeon pushed her fingers against Minjeong’s rear entrance, which opened instantly to welcome those intruding fingers. Since that afternoon at the end of last semester when Nayeon had taken advantage of her for the first time, Minjeong had found herself in this very situation many times. On the desk, lying across her professor’s lap, against the office door, or even leaning against the bathroom sink, Minjeong had felt those same fingers inside her countless times. So much so that it was no longer a challenge for her to accommodate two of those fingers in her ass.

Of course, the pleasure from the stimulation was still there. It was impossible for her cock not to twitch on its own and start dripping when Nayeon stretched her ass so deliciously. Her breathing quickened and her heart pounded as if she’d run a kilometer every time Nayeon pushed her fingers inside her.

As if it were second nature to her, the professor pushed her fingers in until they were completely buried inside Minjeong’s ass. That familiar feeling of fullness washed over her, spreading a gentle warmth throughout her body and making her balls start to feel heavy.

“Your pathetic cock got so hard, and I only put two fingers in you.” The constant taunts were an important part of the spell Nayeon had cast on her student. Somehow, hearing her insults, taunts, and giggles had the opposite effect on Minjeong. Maybe she had simply become depraved, or maybe Nayeon had conditioned her to such an extent that now Minjeong couldn’t conceive of sex without that teasing. It was all part of that strange, twisted professor-student relationship they had unwittingly formed.

It pained Minjeong to admit it, but leaving her professor’s office with a sore ass and empty balls had become her favorite form of pleasure. Even on those rare occasions when she’d hooked up with a girl she’d just met at a party, Minjeong had had to rely on her imagination to have a pleasurable encounter. In the end, Nayeon always came to mind, which was equally pathetic and worrying.

In the girl’s opinion, no one could blame her for that. Nayeon was a beautiful, intelligent, fiery woman; by far the most sought-after single woman on campus, and it was Minjeong who enjoyed her caresses and humiliating words. When she thought about that, she felt on top of the world, even though they were nothing more than student and professor. The fact that she had become her professor’s plaything made her feel special, noticed, and above all, completely sexually satisfied.

Minjeong had even accepted the fact that Nayeon wouldn’t let her fuck her with her cock; all she could do was give her oral sex and occasionally include her fingers in the mix. Which showed just how deeply she had fallen under the older woman’s spell.

“Mmfdgdf mmnnn.” Minjeong unconsciously tried to respond to Nayeon’s latest taunt, but could only manage a few incoherent noises. The thong in her mouth not only prevented her moans from getting out of control, but also kept her from speaking.

“Do you want another finger?” The question itself was stupid; they both knew it. Of course Minjeong wanted Nayeon to stick another finger in her ass; the woman knew that very well. From day one, she had tested the limits of the student’s sphincter and had made sure to get her hooked on having her fingers inside. “It’s a shame I’m not going to do it.” Nayeon put on a feigned tone of regret, trying to pretend she felt bad for offering Minjeong something and then denying it to her, which was completely normal for her. But Nayeon knew that if she stuck another finger in right now, Minjeong would come immediately, and she had other plans for the girl.

The professor let go of the girl’s cock and instead licked it from the base to the tip. She swirled her tongue around the sensitive tip before sealing her lips over Minjeong’s throbbing member. The student had to fight the urge to cum right then and there as she felt her professor’s warm mouth engulf her cock. Blowjobs were a reward Nayeon reserved for special days, when she was in a good mood or Minjeong did something especially well. Today seemed to be the first reason.

Just as she had sucked her balls earlier, Nayeon now sucked her cock, which throbbed hard and swollen inside her mouth. Moving her head up and down, she swallowed Minjeong’s shaft whole as if it were nothing.

The professor’s free hand slid up Minjeong’s thigh until it rested on her hand. Not to offer any comfort, but to have a foothold. Even between their hands, the difference in size was all too obvious. Nayeon’s fingers easily covered the girl’s, encircling her hand and conveying a warmth that was beyond the woman’s intentions.

Then Nayeon spread the fingers she had inside her student, stretching her ass in a delicious way. She increased the intensity of her blowjob, and at the most unexpected moment, she swallowed the entire cock, all the way to the base, even trying to take in her balls. Minjeong couldn’t take it anymore. Even if she earned a scolding for it, she let herself go, letting the pleasure take complete control of her body.

Her anus clenched tightly around the intruding fingers, while her balls emptied their contents into Nayeon’s mouth. She didn’t try to stop it or pull away; she simply kept sucking as Minjeong spilled more and more of her semen into her warm mouth until her balls were completely empty.

The professor curled her fingers to caress the inside of Minjeong while she continued to suck greedily, making sure her balls were completely emptied, not wanting to miss a single drop of her favorite student’s precious semen. When she was sure there was nothing left, that she had practically milked the girl dry, Nayeon removed her fingers and pulled the member out of her mouth. With a loud pop! Minjeong’s cock was free again.

With the brazenness and obscenity that characterized her when they were alone, Nayeon stood up to look the girl straight in the eyes. With her mouth full of semen and without wasting a single drop, Nayeon swallowed it all, never taking her eyes off Minjeong and making a slurping sound as she swallowed. When there was nothing left, the woman opened her mouth and stuck out her tongue so the student could see that she had indeed swallowed it all.

“At least your little thing doesn't stop you from coming properly,” Nayeon said, licking her lips. “You can let go of your legs now.” she added, gently patting the girl's thigh.

With permission granted, Minjeong let her legs dangle over the edge of the desk, her toes grazing the floor. As usual, she spat out the thong and used it to wipe her private parts. She knew it was her duty to take that thong home and return it to her professor completely clean and free of any fluids. That was practically just another task in her role as an assistant.

“No, no. I said you could let your legs hang down, not that you could stand up.” With a gentle nudge on the shoulder, Nayeon reminded the girl which of the two was in charge when she tried to sit up on the desk. “Lie back down. We’re not done yet.”

Fearing for the integrity of her butt, Minjeong lay back down on the desk, which over all these months had proven just how sturdy it was. The girl had long since lost count of how many times she’d ended up lying or bent over that very same desk.

Luckily, her fears about the state of her asshole and whether it could handle another round turned out to be unfounded. Nayeon grabbed her by the armpits and pulled her so her shoulders were on the edge of the desk and her head was hanging down. Completely at her professor’s mercy, Minjeong didn’t protest, as usual; she simply let herself be manipulated as if she were a doll of enormous proportions.

“Since you behaved yourself, you deserve a reward.” Nayeon’s tone was sarcastic. That almost childish, playful tone she used when she was truly enjoying something, not the fake tone she put on when teasing Minjeong. Something totally unbecoming of a college professor, especially considering she was the head of a department.

Minjeong didn’t know what the reward was, but she hoped it would be a kiss. No, Minjeong didn’t like her professor, at least not romantically. She was well aware that Nayeon was only using her for her own pleasure, like a toy, and that every now and then she made sure the girl had a good time too. But a kiss would be quite comforting right now.

She felt languid after the orgasm she’d had. Even though she’d only held her legs, the girl felt tired, perhaps overwhelmed by everything Nayeon had made her feel. Her day had been long, which didn’t help make her feel any better either. Maybe a kiss and going to sleep were the best things she could do right now.

On one occasion when Minjeong had performed oral sex on her and given her professor a particularly pleasurable orgasm, she was rewarded with a kiss on the cheek. To her embarrassment, she came right then and there, staining her underwear, and Nayeon sent her home just like that between laughs and jokes.

The sound of a zipper opening and clothing sliding against skin brought Minjeong back to reality. Next to her, her professor was taking off her skirt, leaving her just as naked as the student.

Still in her heels, Nayeon grabbed the girl by the back of the neck as she pressed her crotch against her. Minjeong’s face was just a few centimeters from her professor’s pussy, which was indeed quite wet. Amid a surge of pride at having made her wet like that, Minjeong watched her professor close the small distance between them. She opened her mouth instinctively and took a deep breath, filling her lungs with the delicious scent of Nayeon’s arousal.

Her professor’s nectar was another delicacy worthy of being devoured. Not just her pussy, but her fluids as well. The taste of arousal flooded Minjeong’s mouth and made her shudder. The languor in her limbs gave way to renewed energy, and with more audacity than perhaps she should have, she clung to Nayeon’s thighs.

The woman pressed herself against her, beginning to grind her crotch against the girl’s face, who licked her professor’s slit in search of more of her fluids. Minjeong’s lips sealed over the woman’s cunt, sucking on her soaked folds, exploring them with her tongue. Licking and tracing the contours of her opening with her tongue, she eagerly drank Nayeon’s nectar.

Having her face fucked like that was almost like medieval torture. Stretched out on the desk with her head firmly held between her professor’s legs, Minjeong did everything she could to satisfy the woman. Although in reality all she had to do was open her mouth and let Nayeon grind against her, her hunger got the better of her and made her lick greedily, pushing her tongue as deep as she could into the woman’s slit.

If before it had been Minjeong who had had to control her moans, now it was Nayeon who was in that position. The student’s tongue working against her core and her lips sealed over her folds offered her a delicious stimulation. It felt so much better than masturbating with her hand or using a toy, even though in reality Minjeong had become the older woman’s toy. The student had voluntarily given herself to her, and now she wasn’t allowed to escape. Nayeon would continue to tease, humiliate, and do whatever she wanted with Minjeong for as long as she could. Until the day of her graduation, Minjeong was hers.

Nayeon held back as much as she could so as not to make a sound. Rubbing her pussy against the girl’s face while the girl’s face was turned toward the ceiling, her eyes closed and her mouth open in a silent moan. Of course she wasn’t going to gag herself with her own underwear, much less the girl’s, that was reserved only for Minjeong. Nayeon was free to do whatever she wanted, to moan in her office or let out gasps of pleasure. In reality, it was unlikely anyone outside would hear her. The building was old, the walls thick, and her office door sturdy and heavy. As long as she kept the volume at a reasonable level, there was no real risk of being overheard, but Minjeong didn’t know that. The professor simply used it as an excuse to keep shoving her dirty underwear into the girl’s mouth. It was something that amused her.

No matter how much the girl wanted to swallow it all, her hip movements caused Nayeon’s nectar to splatter all over her face, turning it into a mess. Almost like a child who still doesn’t know how to eat. Despite the skills she had honed over the past few months. or perhaps because of them, her face was completely smeared, a thin layer of fluid covering part of it.

Her greedy hands clung to Nayeon’s thighs, but that didn’t stop her from continuing to move. If anything, it had the opposite effect, because Nayeon let go of the back of her neck and instead leaned against the girl’s chest, resting her large hands on Minjeong’s breasts. The new position gave her better balance and a better foothold so she could grind her cunt harder.

At least the professor still had the decency to try not to make too much noise. Biting her lower lip or panting heavily, Nayeon kept her moans from getting out of control. Maybe next time she should find a better position where she could suck Minjeong’s cock while the girl ate her pussy. Having her mouth full would always be the best option for muffing her moans right now. But Nayeon didn’t have time to think about that now; she was more focused on how, despite the movement, the girl was trying to lick her clit. A bold move that Nayeon appreciated.

For her part, the girl’s neck ached from the position she was in, and her breasts hurt because Nayeon was leaning her weight on them, but that didn’t stop her from continuing to suck and lick like crazy. Right now, her duty was to eat Nayeon’s pussy, and she was going to do it as well as she could. It didn’t matter if her neck hurt or if she had trouble breathing because her nose was buried between the woman’s buttocks; the only thing that mattered now was sucking, licking, and slurping.

Nayeon’s nectar was intoxicating, a potion that solidified the spell the older woman had over the girl. Minjeong couldn’t stop eating the delicious cunt that had been placed in her mouth, and in turn, Nayeon couldn’t stop grinding against the girl’s mouth and moaning softly. She felt her heart racing faster and faster, felt the undeniable heat between her legs growing, and that electric sensation spreading throughout her body.

Squeezing the girl’s breasts so hard it made her moan between her legs, Nayeon came. The orgasm took hold of her, making her body tremble and making it almost impossible for her to keep her moans quiet. Summoning all her strength, she managed to control herself and avoid making a scene that would be heard outside her office.

Between gasps, she had to make Minjeong let go of her thighs so she could pull away, because the girl kept licking her pussy. She even gave her one last lick as the professor pulled away, stretching her tongue as wide as possible, creating a thin thread of saliva connecting them until Nayeon had moved far enough away.

“You’ve been especially good today,” Nayeon managed to say as she tried to catch her breath.

“Thanks, professor—” The girl stopped mid-sentence because, even though her legs were still trembling a little, Nayeon leaned in to plant a kiss on her forehead. It was unusual for her, which made the girl blush and let out a gasp.

“Now clean yourself up and get dressed. I need my desk to keep working.” Nayeon stroked her cheek as she gave her another kiss on the forehead. Only then did Minjeong realize that without any intervention from her professor, without a caress or any stimulation on her dick, she had come. The sheer satisfaction of eating the older woman’s cunt had made her hard again and caused her to ejaculate on herself. Now the girl’s abdomen was stained with her own semen.

“Pathetic,” the woman added, as if she’d suddenly remembered just how much she enjoyed teasing the girl.

By the time Minjeong climbed down from the desk, the professor had already put her skirt back on, so the girl couldn’t see the marks she’d left on her thighs from clinging so tightly to her. But she could hear the taunts the professor hurled at her for having come without even being touched, and the usual humiliating comments about the size of her penis.

You'd seen her face everywhere. Billboard in Gangnam. Subway advertisement for soju. The thumbnail of every third video on your YouTube feed. Karina. Yu Ji-min. The face of AESPA, the woman whose wedding had crashed three different entertainment news sites, whose husband, some shipping magnate's son had apparently decided that a wife was something you acquired, not something you maintained.

"That's the job," Senior Park had said. "She called us. Not the other way around. Remember that."

And now here you were, sitting in your Hyundai at the security gate of a house that looked more like a modern art museum, trying to remember how to breathe normally.

The gate buzzed before you could press the intercom.

A woman's voice, softer than you'd expected. "Come in. The front door is around the fountain."

The gate swung open.

The walk from your car to the front door took exactly forty-three steps. You counted them. Anything to keep your mind from spinning out. The fountain in the driveway was one of those minimalist things, a black stone slab with water sheeting down the sides. Classy. Expensive. The kind of thing you could stare at and feel nothing about.

Your professional training ran through your head like a checklist Senior Park had drilled into you months ago. Posture. Eye contact. Don't stare. Let her set the pace. The first meeting is always about making them comfortable enough to admit what they want.

But none of the training had mentioned what to do when Karina opened the door.

She wasn't wearing makeup. That was the first thing you noticed, not what you'd expected. Every image you'd ever seen of her was polished to a high gloss, stage-ready, camera-ready. The woman standing in the doorway had her dark hair pulled back in a loose ponytail, a few strands escaping at the temples. She wore an oversized gray sweater that hung off one shoulder, black leggings, bare feet on the marble floor.

And her face. Jesus Christ, her face.

The bone structure that launched a thousand fan edits. Lips that were slightly chapped, slightly parted. Eyes that held yours with something between curiosity and exhaustion.

"Come in," she said, stepping aside. "Take off your shoes."

You did. Brain on autopilot. The foyer was all white marble and indirect lighting, a staircase curving up into shadow. The house smelled like fresh laundry and something floral… lilies, maybe. A bouquet sat on a console table near the door, still wrapped in cellophane, the card unopened.

"I'm…" you started. "I know who you are." She was already walking toward what looked like a living room. "The agency sent me your file. Do you want something to drink?"

The living room was vast and somehow still felt empty. A sectional sofa big enough for twelve people. Floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking a garden you couldn't see in the dark. No photographs on the walls. No magazines on the coffee table. It looked like a showroom, like no one actually lived here. "Water would be great," you managed.

Karina gestured toward the sofa. "Sit." She disappeared through an archway. You heard water running, the clink of glass. Your heart was doing something ridiculous in your chest—not racing exactly, more like it was trying to relocate to your throat.

The file Senior Park had given you was thin. Married eight months. Husband's name was Lee Joon-ho, heir to Lee Shipping & Logistics. According to the tabloids, he'd been spotted at clubs in Gangnam with actresses whose names you didn't recognize, while Karina attended industry events alone. The word "lonely" appeared in a lot of the articles, usually paired with photos of her looking wistful at award shows. "Here."

She was back, holding two glasses. One water, one something amber. Whiskey, maybe. Your eyes tracked the movement of her bare arm as she set the water down on the coffee table between you. "You're nervous," she said, settling onto the opposite end of the sectional. Not a question.

"A little."

"Why?"

Because you're Karina. Because every man in this country has fantasized about you. Because I'm sitting in your mansion and you're wearing that sweater and I don't know what I'm supposed to do with my hands. "New clients are always nerve-wracking," you said instead. "For both of us."

Something flickered in her expression. Amusement, maybe. Or skepticism. She took a sip of her drink—whiskey, definitely—and let her head rest against the back of the sofa. The movement exposed the long line of her throat, the delicate architecture of her collarbones where the sweater had slipped. "How long have you been doing this?"

"A year."

"And before that?" You hesitated. The training said honesty was valuable, but only in measured doses. "I was a personal trainer. Senior Park recruited me. Said I had the right… temperament."

"Temperament." She said the word like she was tasting it. "Is that what they call it?" The silence stretched. Outside, wind rattled something against the glass—a branch, probably. The house was so quiet you could hear the refrigerator humming from two rooms away.

"Why did you call the agency?" you asked. Karina's gaze slid toward you. "Aren't you supposed to know the answer to that?"

"I'd rather hear it from you." Another sip of whiskey. Her throat moved as she swallowed. "The agency brief didn't tell you?"

"It said you were recently married. It said your husband travels frequently for work."

"Travels." A short laugh, not especially warm. "Is that what they're calling it now?"

You didn't answer. Sometimes silence was the best tool you had. Karina set her glass down on the coffee table with a little more force than necessary. The sound echoed in the cavernous room. "He doesn't travel. He's in Seoul. He just doesn't come home." She was looking at the windows now, at her own reflection in the dark glass. "Three months. I've seen him three times in three months, and each time it was for less than an hour. Photo opportunities, mostly. His PR team coordinates them."

"That sounds lonely." Her jaw tightened. "Don't."

"Don't what?" "Don't do the sympathetic thing. I'm not paying for sympathy."

You shifted on the sofa, turning to face her more directly. "What are you paying for?"

The question landed differently than you'd intended. Karina's eyes snapped to yours, and for a moment the mask slipped—the idol mask, the one she wore in every interview and variety show appearance. Underneath it was something rawer. Something hungry and furious and so tired of pretending. "I want to feel something," she said. "Something that isn't…" She gestured vaguely at the house around her. "This."

"This?"

"Empty." The word came out smaller than the others. She picked up her whiskey again, took a longer drink. "Everything in my life is scheduled and managed and presented to the public in exactly the right light. My marriage. My career. My face." Another drink. "I wake up in this house and I feel like I'm already a ghost. Like I'm haunting my own life." You watched her fingers tighten around the glass. The knuckles went pale.

"So when you ask what I'm paying for," she continued, "I'm paying for something real. Something that isn't polite. Something that doesn't treat me like I'm made of glass." The air in the room had changed. Thicker, somehow. Charged with something you couldn't name.

"Have you done this before?" you asked. "With anyone from the agency?"

"No."

"And you understand how this works? The boundaries, the rules—"

"I understand." She cut you off with a look that was almost defiant. "I read everything. I know about the safeword protocols. I know I can stop anything at any time. I know this isn't…" She paused, searching for the word. "Conventional."

"It's not," you agreed. "Which is why I need to ask you something, and I need you to be honest with me."

Karina raised an eyebrow, and for a second you caught a glimpse of the stage persona, the one who commanded thousands with a single glance. "Ask."

"Are you sure you want this?" The question hung between you. Outside, the wind picked up again, and somewhere in the house a door creaked—settling, probably, or the air pressure shifting. Karina didn't look away from your face.

"Do you want me to prove it?" she asked.

"I want you to tell me." She was quiet for a long moment. Then she set her glass down again, stood up from the sofa, and walked toward you. Her bare feet made almost no sound on the marble floor. The sweater slipped further off her shoulder as she moved, revealing the strap of something black and lacy underneath. When she stopped, she was standing directly in front of you, close enough that you could smell her perfume—something light, citrus and white flowers—and underneath it, the clean scent of her skin. "I've been thinking about this for three weeks," she said. "Ever since I found the agency's number in a forum I wasn't supposed to be reading. Ever since I realized that the only person who's touched me in eight months is my makeup artist." Her voice was steady, but there was a tremor underneath it. "So yes. I'm sure. I want this."

She held out her hand. "I want you to make me feel something. I don't care if it hurts. I don't care if it's ugly. I want to stop being Karina for a few hours and just be… a body. A woman. Whatever is left of me when all of this"—she waved at the house, at the empty walls, at the unopened flowers—"isn't here anymore." Your pulse was a drumbeat in your ears. Her hand was still extended, palm up, waiting.

"Tell me your safeword," you said.

"Red."

"And if you can't speak?"

"Three taps. Anywhere you can feel them." You'd said the same words to half a dozen clients before her, but something about the way Karina recited them back—steady, rehearsed, like she'd practiced them in front of a mirror—made your chest tighten.

"Okay," you said. And you took her hand. Her skin was warm. Soft, the way you'd imagined, but there was strength in her grip too—the hand of someone who'd spent years in dance studios, who'd trained her body to do exactly what she wanted it to. She didn't flinch when you stood up, which brought you close enough that you could see the individual lashes framing her eyes, the tiny mole near her left eyebrow, the way her lips had parted slightly.

"Before we do anything," you said, "I need you to understand something."

"What?"

"This isn't about your husband. This isn't about revenge or filling a void or proving something to yourself." You kept your voice low, even. "This is about what you want. Right now. In this room. Nothing else exists." Karina's eyes searched your face. Whatever she was looking for, she must have found it, because something in her expression shifted—a loosening, a letting-go.

"Nothing else exists," she repeated.

"Good girl." The words slipped out before you could stop them, but the effect was immediate. Karina's breath caught. Her pupils dilated, just slightly. The hand in yours tightened its grip.

"That's what you want?" you asked. "To be good?"

"I want…" She swallowed. "I want to stop thinking. I want someone else to be in charge. Just for a while." You lifted your free hand and brushed a strand of hair away from her face. The movement was gentle, almost reverent, and it made no sense with the things you were about to do—but that was the point, wasn't it? The contrast. The collision of tender and brutal that would short-circuit her brain and give her exactly what she was asking for.

"Your bedroom," you said. "Take me there."

She led you up the curved staircase, her hand still in yours. The upstairs hallway was lined with doors, all of them closed except one at the far end. Soft light spilled out of it, and as you got closer you could see the corner of a bed—a huge bed, king-sized at least, with white sheets and too many pillows. The master bedroom. Karina's bedroom.

The room that her husband had probably not set foot in for months. She paused at the threshold, and for a moment you thought she might hesitate. Might change her mind. Might realize what she was about to do and decide it was too much, too fast, too far outside the carefully constructed image of Yu Ji-min, beloved idol, perfect wife.

Instead, she turned to face you. "What do you want me to do first?" The question was genuine. Not a test. She was waiting for you to take the reins, willing to hand over control before you'd even started.

"First," you said, stepping into the bedroom and pulling her gently after you, "I want you to take off that sweater." Karina's hands moved to the hem of the gray wool. The fabric lifted, revealing the black lace you'd glimpsed earlier—a bralette, delicate and expensive-looking, the kind of thing you wore when you wanted to feel beautiful even if no one else would see it. The sweater came over her head and dropped to the floor.

Her skin was luminous in the low light. Pale and smooth, with the kind of muscle definition that came from years of dancing—toned arms, a flat stomach that tensed as she breathed, the curve of her ribs just visible beneath the skin. "Now the leggings." She hooked her thumbs into the waistband and pushed them down, bending at the waist. The movement was efficient, not seductive, but it didn't matter—the sight of her body unfolding as she straightened up, the black lace of her underwear matching the bralette, the long lines of her legs.

You circled her slowly. She stood very still, the way she'd probably been trained to stand for fittings and stage checks, but there was a tremor in her thighs that she couldn't quite control. Anticipation. Maybe fear. Probably both. "Lie down on the bed," you said. "On your back."

Karina did as she was told. The mattress barely dipped under her weight—memory foam, probably, the kind that cost more than your monthly rent. She arranged herself in the center of the white expanse, arms at her sides, looking up at the ceiling. "Close your eyes." Her lashes swept down against her cheeks. The room was silent except for her breathing, which had gone shallow and quick. You stood at the foot of the bed and watched her. The rise and fall of her chest. The way her fingers curled against the sheets. The faint flush spreading from her neck to her collarbones.

"How do you feel?" you asked. "Exposed."

"Good." You moved to the side of the bed and sat down on the edge, close enough that your hip nearly touched hers. Karina's breathing hitched at the proximity.

"Do you know what I'm going to do to you?"

A pause. "No." "I'm going to use you." The words came out rougher than you'd intended. "I'm going to take everything you're willing to give me, and I'm going to make you feel every second of it. Your body belongs to me tonight. Do you understand?"

Her voice was barely a whisper. "Yes."

"And you want that?"

"God, yes."

"Look at me." Her eyes opened. They were glassy already, the pupils blown wide. The composed idol from five minutes ago was already starting to dissolve, replaced by something more vulnerable and infinitely more real. "Your husband," you said. "Does he ever look at you like this?"

Karina flinched—a tiny movement, but you caught it. "No."

"Does he touch you?"

"No."

"Does he make you feel anything at all?" A tear slipped from the corner of her eye, tracking down her temple and into her hair. "No." You leaned closer. "Then forget him. Forget all of it. Right now, there's only me and you and what your body can take. Nothing else. No Karina. No Yu Ji-min. Just a woman who needs to be fucked like she matters."

The tears were coming faster now, but she wasn't sobbing—just leaking, silently, the release of pressure that had been building for months.

"Please," she said. "Please."

"Please what?"

"Make me forget." You stood up and began unbuttoning your shirt. Karina watched you through blurred vision, her chest rising and falling with breaths she couldn't seem to control. The black lace of her bralette had shifted, revealing the upper curve of her breasts, the skin there flushed and warm.

"Last chance to change your mind," you said, pulling your shirt off and letting it fall. Her eyes traveled over your chest, your arms, the line of your stomach. When she spoke, her voice was steadier than it had been.

"I'm not changing my mind."

"Good." You unbuckled your belt and pulled it free from the loops with a single smooth motion. The leather whispered against the fabric of your pants. "Because I'm just getting started." The belt was still in your hand. Karina watched it loop between your fingers, the leather dark against your palm. Her tears had left shiny tracks down her temples, disappearing into the hairline, and her breathing had gone shallow again—not from crying now, but from something else. Something that made her thighs press together on the white sheets.

“Sit up,” you said. She pushed herself upright, the bralette shifting as she moved. One strap slipped off her shoulder. She didn’t fix it. You folded the belt in half and ran your thumb along the smooth side. “You said you wanted to stop being Karina for a few hours.”

“Yes.”

“Then I’m going to take away your sight.” Her lips parted. A micro-flinch—not fear, not exactly. More like the body’s instinctive response to a cliff edge. The moment before the jump. “The blindfold,” you continued, “stays on until I take it off. If it becomes too much, you use the taps. Three of them. Anywhere you can reach me.”

“I know the rules.”

“I know you do.” You stepped closer, until your knees touched the edge of the mattress. “But I want to hear you say it. What happens if you need to stop?”

“Three taps.” Her voice was steadier now. “On you. Anywhere.”

“And what’s your word?”

“Red.”

“Good.” You reached down and brushed your knuckles along her jawline. The contact was feather-light, almost accidental. “Lift your hair.” She gathered the dark strands and held them up, exposing the nape of her neck. The movement arched her back slightly, pushed her chest forward. The black lace strained against her breasts. You brought the belt around her head. The leather was cool, supple from use. You positioned it across her eyes, careful not to catch her hair in the buckle, and pulled it snug against her temples. Not tight enough to hurt. Tight enough that she wouldn’t see anything but darkness.

“How does that feel?”

Karina exhaled. “Dark.”

“Can you see anything?”

“No.”

“Good.” You fastened the belt at the back of her head and let your fingers trail down the side of her neck as you withdrew. Her pulse hammered against your fingertips. “Now lie back down.” She lowered herself onto the mattress. The movement was different now—less controlled, more tentative. Without her sight, every shift of her body became a negotiation with the unknown. Her hands found the sheets and gripped them. You stood at the edge of the bed and looked at her. The idol that half of Korea fantasized about. The face on every billboard. Reduced to a blindfolded woman in black lace, her chest rising and falling in shallow, rapid cycles, her lips slick where she’d licked them.

“Spread your legs.” Karina’s thighs parted. The movement was slow, almost reluctant—but she did it. The matching black panties were cut high on her hips, the fabric thin enough that you could see the suggestion of her underneath. A dark shadow. A slight dampness already bleeding through.

“Wider.” She obeyed. Her knees fell open, exposing the full length of her. The panties pulled taut across her cunt. The outline of her lips. The little seam where they parted.

You didn’t touch her there. Not yet. Instead you climbed onto the bed, positioning yourself beside her. The mattress dipped under your weight, and Karina’s body shifted toward you instinctively—gravity pulling her toward the heat of your skin. “You’re going to use your mouth now,” you said. “And while you do, I’m going to play with these.” Your fingers found the strap of her bralette. You pulled it down. Then the other strap. The lace caught on her nipples for a moment—already peaked, already hard—before you tugged it free and let the fabric pool around her waist.

Karina’s breasts were full and pale, the nipples a dusty rose color that darkened at the tips. They stiffened further in the open air, and she made a small sound—something between a gasp and a whimper. “You like that.”

“Yes,” she breathed.

“You like being blindfolded. You like not knowing what’s coming next.”

“I… yes.” You traced a circle around her right nipple with your fingertip. The skin puckered. Karina’s back lifted off the mattress.

“Don’t move,” you said. “Stay still and let me touch you.” She forced herself down. The effort was visible—her abdominal muscles tensed, her hands fisting in the sheets. You circled the nipple again, closer this time, and then you took it between your thumb and forefinger and squeezed. The sound she made was not a moan. It was a broken exhale, a noise that started in her chest and caught in her throat. Her hips bucked once—an involuntary spasm—and then she forced them still. “That’s it,” you murmured. “Let your body react. Don’t fight it.”

You rolled the nipple between your fingers, working it slowly. The texture was fascinating—the way it tightened and pebbled under your touch, the way the areola crinkled around it. Karina’s breathing had gone ragged. A flush was spreading down her chest, past her collarbones, toward the swell of her breasts. “Does your husband ever touch you like this?”

“No—” The word came out strangled.

“Does he know what your body does when someone pays attention to it?”

“He doesn’t… he never…”

“He never what?”

“He never touches me.” The confession was barely a whisper. “He never—ah—” You’d switched to the other nipple, giving it the same treatment. Roll. Squeeze. A gentle twist that made her gasp and arch before she remembered she was supposed to stay still.

“Then he’s a fool,” you said. “Because your body is extraordinary.” You leaned down and took her nipple into your mouth. Karina cried out. The sound was sharp and sudden, echoing in the vast bedroom. Your tongue laved across the tight bud, traced circles around the areola, and then you sucked—a long, pulling pressure that made her whole body go rigid.

“Oh—oh god—” Her hands came up, flailing in the dark, and found your shoulders. Her nails dug in. You didn’t tell her to stop. Instead you sucked harder, pulling the nipple deep into your mouth while your other hand continued working its twin—rolling, pinching, tugging in counterpoint to the rhythm of your tongue. She was making sounds now that had no words in them. Just vowels. Just broken, desperate vowels that rose and fell with the movement of your mouth. You released her nipple with a wet pop.

“Hands down,” you said. “We’re not done.” Karina’s fingers uncurled from your shoulders. She lowered her arms back to the bed. Her chest was heaving, both nipples now slick and swollen, darker than they’d been before. The blindfold had shifted slightly—just a millimeter—but she hadn’t tried to remove it. “Good girl. Now.” You unfastened your pants and pushed them down. Your boxers followed. “I want you to sit up. I want you on your knees. Can you do that?”

She nodded. The belt bobbed with the movement. Getting her upright was an exercise in trust. She couldn’t see the edge of the bed, couldn’t gauge the distance. You guided her by the shoulders—first into a sitting position, then turning her so her legs hung off the side of the mattress. “On your knees,” you said. “On the floor.” Karina slid off the bed. Her knees hit the hardwood with a soft thud. The position put her face level with your hips, and even though she couldn’t see you, she must have sensed your proximity, because her breath quickened. “You’re going to use your mouth now,” you said. “The way you’ve been thinking about since you first called the agency. The way you’ve imagined in this empty bed at night while your husband was god knows where.”

Her lips parted. Her tongue darted out, wetting them. “But you don’t get to use your hands. Not yet. Just your mouth. And while you work, I’m going to keep playing with your nipples. Do you understand?”

“Yes.” You guided yourself toward her mouth. The head of your cock brushed her lower lip—just a touch, just enough for her to feel the heat. Karina’s whole body shuddered. “Open.” She did. Her jaw dropped, and you pushed forward, sliding the tip past her lips. The inside of her mouth was hot. Wet. Her tongue met the underside of your shaft, tentative at first, then bolder—flattening against you, tracing the ridge of the head. You groaned. The sound was involuntary. “That’s it. Take more.”

She did. Her lips stretched around your girth, and you watched her jaw work as she accommodated the intrusion. There was no hesitation now—the blindfold had freed her from something. From the performance. From the expectation. From Karina Yu, the idol, and all the ways that identity constrained her. The woman kneeling on the floor was just a woman. A woman who wanted to suck cock. You reached down and found her nipples again. Both of them this time, one in each hand, rolling them between your thumbs and forefingers as she began to move.

Karina moaned around your shaft. The vibration traveled through you, up your spine, into the base of your skull. “Mmm—”

She pulled back, let her tongue swirl around the head, then pushed forward again—deeper this time. Her throat flexed. A gag reflex triggered, and she choked, but she didn’t pull away. She held herself there, breathing through her nose, letting her throat adjust to the intrusion. “Fuck,” you breathed. “You’ve done this before.” She couldn’t answer—her mouth was full—but the way she moved said everything. This wasn’t practice. This was muscle memory. Somewhere in her past, before the fame and the management and the carefully curated image, there had been a girl who knew exactly what to do with her mouth. You pinched her nipples harder. She whimpered. Bobbed her head. The wet sounds of her mouth filled the room—the slick slide of lips on skin, the soft suction when she pulled back, the obscene little pop when she reached the tip and let go for just a moment before diving back down.

“Look at you.” Your voice had gone rough. “The most famous woman in Korea. On her knees. Blindfolded. Choking on a stranger’s cock.” Karina’s response was a moan that vibrated through your entire shaft. She sucked harder. Faster. Her tongue worked the underside of your cock with the kind of precision that spoke to experience—flicking against the frenulum, tracing the vein that ran along the length, pressing flat and wide when she reached the base. You tugged her nipples in rhythm with her bobbing. Pull when she went down. Release when she came up. The coordination turned her body into an instrument—you played her nipples, and she played you with her mouth. Saliva dripped down her chin. It pooled in the hollow of her throat, ran in thin rivulets toward her collarbones. She was messy now. Undone. The composed idol from an hour ago was dissolving into something rawer and infinitely more beautiful.

“Deeper,” you said. “Take it deeper.” She pushed forward. Her throat constricted around the head of your cock—a tight, hot pressure that made your vision swim. She gagged again, harder this time, and you felt her throat spasm around you. “Stay there.” She held. Her shoulders trembled. A tear leaked from beneath the blindfold—not from crying, but from the physical reflex of her throat trying to expel the intrusion. The tear tracked down her cheek and mixed with the saliva on her chin. You released her nipples and cupped her face instead. Your thumbs traced the stretched line of her lips, the bulge of your cock visible through her cheek.

“You’re perfect like this,” you murmured. “Blind. Choking. Desperate. This is what you needed, isn’t it? To be used. To be nothing but a mouth.” Karina made a sound—half moan, half sob—and nodded as much as she could with your cock buried in her throat. You pulled back. Let her breathe. A thick strand of saliva connected her bottom lip to the tip of your cock.

“Don’t swallow yet,” you said. “Let it drip.” She obeyed. The saliva pooled and spilled, running down her chin and onto her chest. It made her skin glisten in the low light.

“Now use your hands. Both of them. Show me how you touch yourself when you think about this.” Her hands came up immediately—eager, almost frantic. One wrapped around the base of your shaft while the other cupped your balls. Her fingers were cool against the heat of your skin. She squeezed gently, testing the weight, and then her mouth was back on you—lips stretched wide, tongue working, throat opening. The blindfold was soaked now. Tears and sweat had darkened the leather around her eyes. You reached down and found her nipples again. Plucked them. Rolled them. Pinched them until she keened around your cock, the sound high and desperate. “You love this. You love being on your knees for a stranger. You love not being in control.”

“Mmmhmm—” The affirmation vibrated through your shaft.

“Say it. Pull off and say it.” She let you go with a gasp. Her lips were swollen, the color darkened to a deep rose. “I love it. I love being on my knees. I love—” She swallowed, her throat working. “I love not being in control.”

“Why?”

“Because…” Her blindfolded face tilted up toward your voice. “Because for once I don’t have to pretend. I don’t have to be perfect. I don’t have to be Karina. I can just be… this.”

“A mouth.”

“Yes.”

“A set of holes.”

She shuddered. “Yes.”

“Say it.”

“I’m a mouth.” Her voice cracked. “I’m a set of holes. I’m just—I’m just a body that wants to be used.” You stroked her cheek. “Good girl. Now open up.” She did. Her jaw dropped, tongue extended—a gesture of pure, shameless submission. You guided yourself back into her mouth and this time you didn’t let her set the pace. You fucked her throat with slow, deliberate thrusts, watching her lips stretch around you, watching her chest heave as she struggled to breathe through her nose.

Your hands never left her nipples. They were dark now, engorged, slick with the saliva that had dripped down from her chin. You twisted them in opposite directions and Karina screamed around your cock—a muffled, desperate sound that was swallowed by the column of flesh filling her throat. “Again.” Twist. Scream. Her thighs squeezed together, and through the thin black panties you could see her cunt clenching on nothing.

“You’re getting wet from this. From choking on a stranger’s cock while he twists your nipples.” She couldn’t answer. Could only whimper and bob her head and take it. You pulled her off again. She gasped, coughed, and then immediately tried to lean forward—to get you back in her mouth. You held her by the hair. “Not yet. I want to look at you.” Karina knelt there, chest heaving, lips swollen and slick, chin dripping. The blindfold was a dark slash across her face. Her nipples jutted out from the flushed mounds of her breasts, hard and dark and wet. “You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen,” you said. “And I mean that. Not Karina the idol. Not the image. This. Right here. A woman who finally stopped pretending.”

Her lips trembled. “Please.”

“Please what?”

“Please let me finish. Please let me taste you. Please—I need—I need to feel you—”

“You need to feel me come down your throat.”

“Yes.” The word was a sob. “Yes. Please. Use my mouth. Use my throat. I don’t care if I can’t breathe. I just want to feel it. I want to taste it. Please.” You guided her back onto your cock. She took you deeper than before—no hesitation, no slow build. She swallowed you whole, her nose pressing against your abdomen, her throat working around the intrusion like it was made for this. Made for you. Your hands found her nipples one last time. You pinched them hard—the hardest yet—and held the pressure as she sucked. Karina’s whole body convulsed. Her thighs pressed together so tightly that the muscles in her legs stood out in sharp relief. A muffled, keening sound escaped from somewhere deep in her throat. She was close. Even without touching her cunt, even without any stimulation below the waist—she was close. The nipple play and the blindfold and the degradation had wound her up to a breaking point.

You felt your own climax building. A tightening at the base of your spine. A coiling pressure that radiated outward. “I’m going to come,” you said. “And you’re going to swallow every drop. Do you understand?” Karina’s response was to suck harder. Her tongue worked the underside of your shaft, pressing and stroking in time with her bobbing. Her hand cupped your balls and squeezed—gently, then harder—and that was it. The orgasm hit like a punch to the spine. You groaned—a deep, guttural sound—and your hands tightened on her nipples as the first pulse of cum shot into her mouth. She swallowed. You felt her throat work around the head of your cock, milking you, drawing out every pulse. The second shot. The third. She took them all, her lips sealed tight around your shaft, not letting a single drop escape.

“Fuck. Fuck, Karina—” She pulled back just enough to let the last pulse land on her tongue. Then she closed her mouth and swallowed again, her throat moving in a long, deliberate gulp. When she finally released you, she sat back on her heels. Her chest was still heaving. Her nipples were dark and swollen. Her chin glistened. A single drop of cum had escaped the corner of her mouth and was tracking slowly down toward her jaw. You reached down and wiped it away with your thumb. Then you pressed your thumb to her lips. She sucked it clean.

“Thank you,” she whispered. You crouched down in front of her. The blindfold was ruined—soaked through with tears and sweat, the leather darkened to near-black. You reached behind her head and unbuckled it. The belt fell away.

Karina blinked. Her eyes were glassy and unfocused, the pupils so dilated that her irises were barely visible. Tear tracks striped her cheeks. Her lips—swollen, bruised-looking, the lipstick she hadn’t been wearing long since replaced by a deeper, more honest color. She looked wrecked. She looked free. “How do you feel?” you asked.

A long pause. Then a smile—small, fragile, but real. “Like I’m still here. Like I’m actually… in my body. For the first time in months.” You brushed the hair away from her face. “We’re not done.” Karina’s smile widened, just a fraction. “I know.” “Lie back down on the bed. On your stomach this time.” She rose on unsteady legs and climbed onto the mattress. The black panties were soaked through now—a dark, wet patch that spread from the gusset all the way to the waistband. She arranged herself face-down on the white sheets, her arms stretched above her head, her legs slightly apart.

The position made her ass look incredible. Round and full, the cheeks peeking out from beneath the lace.

You climbed onto the bed behind her. Your cock was still half-hard, already stirring again at the sight of her. “I’m going to take these off now,” you said, hooking your fingers into the waistband of her panties. “And then I’m going to find out just how wet choking on a stranger’s cock made you.”

Karina’s voice was muffled by the pillow. “Yes. Please. Touch me.” You pulled the panties down. And stopped breathing. The panties slid down the curve of her ass, the black lace peeling away from skin that glistened with moisture. The gusset left a shining trail across the backs of her thighs—a snail's track of arousal that caught the bedroom's low light. You stopped breathing.

Karina's cunt was laid bare before you, the lips puffy and flushed a deep rose, parted just enough to reveal the darker, wetter flesh within. Her arousal had coated everything—the inner thighs, the neat strip of dark hair above her mound, the puckered swirl of her asshole that winked at you as she shifted on the mattress. The scent hit you next: salt and musk and something sweeter underneath, the raw perfume of a woman who'd been sucking cock while her nipples were tortured and had loved every second of it.

"Fuck," you breathed. Karina's response was muffled by the pillow. "What? What is it?"

"You're dripping. You're actually—" You ran one finger along the seam of her cunt, not pushing in, just gathering the slick that had pooled there. The touch made her whole body jolt. "You're soaked. All the way down your thighs."

"I know." Her voice cracked. "I could feel it. While I was—while you were in my mouth—I could feel myself getting wetter and I couldn't do anything about it."

"Did you want to?"

"Yes. God, yes. I wanted to touch myself so badly. But you told me not to move. So I just… leaked." You brought your slick-coated finger to your mouth and tasted her. Salty. Slightly bitter. Clean. The flavor bloomed on your tongue, and something in your chest tightened—not just lust, though there was plenty of that, but something closer to awe. The most famous woman in Korea was face-down on her marital bed, her cunt drooling onto the sheets, waiting for a stranger to decide what to do with her.

"Please," Karina whispered. "Please touch me. I've been waiting. I've been so patient. Please."

"How long has it been since someone touched you here?"

"Eight months. Since before the wedding. He never—Joon-ho never—" She choked on the name. "He never wanted to. Even before we got married. He said it was… messy. He said he preferred—"

"Preferred what?"

"His hand. His own hand. While I lay next to him pretending to be asleep." The confession hung in the air. You looked at the perfect curve of her ass, the trembling muscles of her thighs, the slick heat of her cunt that some man had decided wasn't worth his time. "His loss," you said. "Don't move." You positioned yourself behind her, kneeling between her spread legs. The position gave you a view of everything—the long line of her spine, the flare of her hips, the dark cleft of her ass, and at the center of it all, her cunt. Swollen. Wet. Waiting.

"Two fingers," you said. "I'm going to put two fingers inside you. And you're going to scream into that pillow." Karina grabbed the pillow and pulled it to her face. You pushed your middle finger into her first.

The heat was staggering. Tight—god, she was tight—but so wet that your finger slid in to the second knuckle without resistance. Her inner walls clenched around the intrusion, a rippling squeeze that traveled from base to tip. Karina's back arched. A strangled sound escaped the pillow.

"One," you said. "Here comes the second."

Your index finger joined the first. The stretch made her gasp—a sharp intake of air that she cut off by biting the pillow. You pushed both fingers deep, curling them upward, searching for the rough patch of tissue that would make her see stars.

You found it.

Karina screamed.

The sound was muffled by the pillow but still loud enough to echo in the vast bedroom. Her hips bucked backward, driving your fingers deeper. Her cunt clamped down with a force that made your knuckles ache.

"There it is," you murmured. "That's what you needed, isn't it? Someone to find it. Someone to touch it. Someone who isn't afraid of a little mess."

"Don't stop—please don't stop—"

You didn't stop. You fucked her with your fingers in slow, deep strokes, curling them against that spot every time you bottomed out. The wet sounds were obscene—a slick, squelching rhythm that filled the room. Her juices coated your hand, dripped down your wrist, pooled on the sheets beneath her.

"Listen to yourself," you said. "Listen to how wet you are. You sound like a—"

"Like a whore." The word came out muffled but clear. "Say it. I want you to say it."

"You sound like a whore. A dripping, desperate whore who's been neglected for eight months and finally has someone's fingers in her cunt."

Karina moaned—a long, wavering sound that rose in pitch as you increased your pace. Her fingers clawed at the sheets. Her ass lifted higher, presenting herself more openly, and you watched her cunt stretch around your fingers, the lips clinging to your knuckles every time you pulled back.

"More," she gasped. "More. I need more. I need—"

"You need what?"

"I need to come. Please. Please let me come. I've been so good. I swallowed everything. I didn't spill a drop. Please."

You slowed your fingers. Stopped them entirely, buried to the hilt inside her.

Karina whimpered. "No—no, why did you stop—"

"Because I want to hear you beg properly." You leaned down, your lips brushing the shell of her ear. "You're not Karina right now. You're not an idol. You're just a wet hole that wants to be filled. So beg like one."

A shudder ran through her body. Her voice, when it came, was smaller than before—stripped of the polish, stripped of everything except raw, naked need.

"Please fuck me with your fingers. Please make me come. I've been empty for so long. I've been so empty and so lonely and the only thing that's made me feel anything in months is your cock in my throat and your fingers on my nipples and now I need—I need you to let me finish. I need to feel something break inside me. Please. I'm begging you. I'm begging like the desperate slut I am. Please."

"Good girl."

You resumed fucking her with your fingers. Faster this time. Harder. The curl against her G-spot became a pounding rhythm, and Karina's whole body began to shake. Her thighs quivered. Her ass clenched and unclenched. The pillow was soaked with saliva and tears.

"I'm close—I'm so close—"

You pulled your fingers out.

"No!" The word was a howl. Her cunt gaped for a moment, empty and clenching on nothing, and then she collapsed forward onto the mattress. "Why? Why did you—I was right there—"

"Turn over."

She rolled onto her back. Her face was a wreck—eyes wild and glassy, cheeks blotchy with tears, lips still swollen from the blowjob. Her chest heaved. Her nipples stood out like dark berries against the pale swell of her breasts.

"Spread your legs."

She did. Her cunt was even more obscene from this angle—the lips engorged and spread, the inner flesh a slick, vivid pink, the hood of her clitoris pulled back to reveal the pearl beneath. Everything glistened.

"Touch yourself."

Karina's hand flew to her cunt. Her fingers found her clit and began rubbing in tight, frantic circles. Her other hand grabbed her breast, squeezing, pinching the nipple.

"That's it. Show me how you make yourself come when you're alone in this empty house."

"It's always you," she panted. "Not you—not you specifically—but someone. Someone who isn't him. Someone who wants me. I imagine—I imagine being taken. Being used. Being ruined." Her circles grew faster. "I imagine a stranger's cock. A stranger's hands. I imagine being bent over and fucked until I can't walk. Until I can't think. Until I forget my own name."

"And does your husband ever make you come?"

"Never. Not once. Not even—not even when we—ah—"

"Don't stop. Keep rubbing."

Her fingers were a blur on her clit. Her hips lifted off the mattress. The muscles in her stomach stood out in sharp definition. She was close again—you could see it in the flush spreading across her chest, the way her mouth fell open, the frantic, jerky movements of her hand.

"Please," she gasped. "Please let me—"

"Stop."

Her hand froze. A sound came out of her that wasn't human—a guttural, animal keen of pure frustration. Her clit twitched visibly, denied its release. Her cunt spasmed, squeezing around nothing, gushing a fresh surge of fluid that soaked the sheets.

"Fuck!" She slammed her fist against the mattress. "Fuck, fuck, fuck—"

You grabbed her wrist and pinned it above her head. "Look at me."

Karina's eyes met yours. They were wet and desperate and furious and grateful all at once.

"You said you wanted to be ruined. Ruined doesn't mean easy. Ruined doesn't mean I let you come the moment you ask nicely. Ruined means I take you apart piece by piece until there's nothing left but the animal underneath. Do you understand?"

"Yes." The word was barely a whisper.

"Do you still want this?"

"God, yes. Yes. Ruin me. Please. I want to be ruined."

You released her wrist. "Then get on your hands and knees. I want to see all of you."

Karina scrambled into position. The movement was ungraceful, uncoordinated—the idol's dancer precision abandoned in favor of pure, sloppy need. She presented herself on all fours, her back arched, her ass lifted high. The position opened her completely—her cunt a dark, wet gash between her thighs, her asshole a tight pink knot, everything glistening with the evidence of her arousal.

"Spread your ass cheeks."

Her hands reached back. Her fingers dug into the full flesh of her buttocks and pulled them apart, exposing herself more completely. The vulnerability of the gesture made your cock throb.

"Wider."

She stretched herself open until the pink of her cunt gaped slightly, until you could see the dark entrance of her body, the place where her wetness pooled and dripped in a slow, viscous thread onto the sheets.

"Please," she breathed. "Please ruin my pussy. I need your cock. I need it inside me. I've needed it since you walked through my door. Since before that. Since I first saw your picture in the agency file. Please. Fuck me. Fuck me like you hate me. Fuck me like I'm nothing."

You positioned yourself behind her.

Your cock was fully hard again—thick and veined, the head an angry purple, a bead of precum already forming at the slit. You gripped the base and ran the tip along her slit, coating yourself in her slick. The contact made her shudder.

"Is this what you want?"

"Yes—"

You pushed the head against her entrance. The heat of her cunt kissed the tip of your cock.

"Say it again. Louder."

"YES. Fuck me. Please fuck me. Ruin my pussy. I want to feel you in my womb. I want to feel you for days. I want to walk into my next schedule and still feel where you've been. Please—"

You thrust forward.

One motion. No gradual entry. No easing her open. You buried yourself to the hilt in a single, brutal stroke, and Karina's plea dissolved into a scream that had no words in it.

Her cunt was impossibly tight. The wet heat of her gripped every inch of you—a clenching, rippling pressure that traveled from base to tip. You felt the head of your cock butt against her cervix, felt the resistant give of that deepest barrier, and then you pushed past it.

Karina's scream pitched higher.

"Oh fuck—oh fuck, you're so deep—you're in my—"

"Your womb. I know."

You stayed there for a moment, buried to the root, letting her body adjust to the intrusion. Her inner walls fluttered around your shaft—spasms of sensation that were half pleasure, half shock. Her fingers were still digging into her ass cheeks, holding herself open, and you could see exactly where your bodies joined. The stretched ring of her cunt. The way her lips clung to the base of your cock. The shine of her fluids on your skin.

"You're taking all of it," you said. "Every inch. You feel that? Feel how deep I am?"

"Yes—yes, I feel it—I feel you in my stomach—"

"Good."

You pulled back. The drag of her walls against your shaft made your vision swim. Then you slammed forward again, harder than before, and Karina's head dropped between her shoulders, her whole body rocking forward from the force.

"AH—"

"Again."

Another thrust. Harder. The sound of your bodies colliding was a wet slap that echoed off the bedroom walls. Her ass rippled with the impact. Her breasts swung beneath her.

"You wanted to be ruined," you growled, gripping her hips. "So I'm going to ruin you. I'm going to fuck this tight little cunt until you can't remember your own name. Until you can't remember his name. Until the only thing in your head is my cock and how deep it is and how hard I'm using you."

"Yes—yes—fuck—harder—"

You gave her harder.

The rhythm you set was brutal—deep, driving strokes that bottomed out against her cervix with every thrust. The wet sounds of her cunt filled the room. Your balls slapped against her clit. Sweat dripped from your forehead onto her back, tracing rivulets down her spine.

Karina was making sounds that didn't belong to any language. Guttural moans. High-pitched whines. Broken syllables that might have been words if she'd had enough control to form them. Her fingers had released her ass cheeks and were now fisting in the sheets, knuckles white, arms trembling.

"Look at you. The most famous idol in Korea. On her hands and knees. Getting her pussy destroyed by a stranger. Moaning like an animal. This is what you needed, isn't it? Not the fame. Not the money. Not the perfect husband and the perfect house. This. Just this. Just a cock in your cunt and someone who knows how to use it."

"YES—YES, THIS—THIS IS WHAT I—OH FUCK—"

You reached around her body and found her clit. The bundle of nerves was swollen and slick, hard as a pebble under your fingertip. You pressed down and circled—not gently, not teasingly, but with the same brutal intensity as your thrusts.

Karina's whole body convulsed.

The orgasm hit her like a wave breaking against rocks. Her cunt clamped down on your cock with a force that almost hurt—a rhythmic, pulsing squeeze that traveled in waves from her core outward. Her back arched impossibly. Her head flew up, mouth open in a silent scream, eyes rolled back so far that only the whites were visible.

Then the sound came. A wail. A keening, animal cry that started low in her chest and rose to fill the room. Her arms gave out. She collapsed forward onto the mattress, but you followed her down, never stopping, never slowing, fucking her through the orgasm with the same relentless pace.

"Thaaaat's it—don't stop—don't stop—don't—I can't—it's too much—"

"You can take it. You wanted to be ruined. You're going to take every thrust until I'm done with you."

"It's too much—it's—oh god—OH GOD—"

A second orgasm crashed over her before the first had fully subsided. This one was stronger—violent, almost. Her cunt gushed around your cock, soaking your thighs, soaking the sheets. Her screams dissolved into sobs. Her body shook with a force that seemed to come from somewhere deeper than muscle, somewhere primal.

"Please—please—I can't—I can't take any more—"

"One more. Give me one more."

"I can't—I can't—"

"You can. Feel that? Feel how deep I am? Feel how full you are? That's what you needed. Not his empty house. Not his empty promises. This. A cock that fills you up. A body that knows how to use yours. Come for me again, Karina. Come on this cock like the desperate whore you told me you are."

Her response was unintelligible. A stream of syllables that might have been Korean, might have been English, might have been neither. A confession. A prayer. A surrender.

You drove into her harder—deeper, if that was even possible—and pressed your thumb against her clit. The stimulation was merciless. Her cunt seized around you. Her sobs pitched higher.

And then she shattered.

This orgasm was different from the others. Quieter. Deeper. Her body went rigid for a long, suspended moment—every muscle locked, every breath held. Then the release came, and it came with a flood. Her cunt gushed around your shaft—not just wetness this time, but a clear, copious fluid that sprayed against your thighs and soaked into the mattress beneath her.

Karina's voice broke on a single word: "Fuuuuck—"

Her body went limp. Completely limp. She collapsed into the wet sheets, her chest heaving, her limbs twitching with aftershocks. Her cunt still pulsed weakly around your cock—little flutters of sensation that traveled up your shaft.

You slowed your thrusts. Eased to a stop. Buried yourself deep inside her one last time and held there, feeling the heat of her body, the slick grip of her cunt, the violent thudding of her heart that you could feel through the walls of her core.

The room was silent except for her breathing—ragged, broken gasps that gradually slowed to something approaching normal.

"Are you still with me?" you asked.

A long pause. Then, muffled by the mattress: "I don't know. I think so. I think… I think that was…"

"That was what?"

"That was the first time. The first time anyone's ever—" She swallowed. The movement traveled through her whole body. "The first time anyone's ever made me come. Not just during sex. Ever."

You pulled out slowly. Her cunt made a wet, sucking sound as you withdrew—reluctant, almost, as if her body didn't want to let you go. A gush of fluid followed, clear and viscous, pooling on the already-soaked sheets.

Karina whimpered at the emptiness.

"Turn over," you said. "Look at me."

It took her a moment to find the strength. When she finally rolled onto her back, the sight of her made your chest tighten.

She was wrecked. Absolutely wrecked. Her face was blotchy with tears, her eyes swollen and glassy. Her lips—still puffy from the blowjob—were parted, a thin trail of drool connecting the corner of her mouth to her chin. Her nipples were dark and angry-looking, surrounded by faint marks where your fingers had been. Her thighs were slick with her own fluids. Her cunt gaped slightly, the lips engorged and spread, still pulsing with aftershocks.

She had never looked more beautiful.

"Thank you," she whispered.

"You don't have to thank me."

"I know. I want to." Her voice was hoarse—fucked raw, used up. "I've been numb for so long. I didn't even realize how numb until… until you made me feel all of this. The pain. The pleasure. The—the shame. The humiliation. I felt all of it. I'm still feeling it."

"And right now? How do you feel?"

Karina's eyes found yours. The glassiness was fading, replaced by something clearer. Something almost peaceful.

"Full," she said. "And sore. And wet. And tired. And…" A pause. "Alive. I feel alive."

You reached down and brushed a strand of sweat-damp hair away from her forehead. The gesture was gentle—a stark contrast to everything you'd just done to her body.

"Good," you said. "Because we're still not finished."

Her eyes widened. Then, slowly, a smile spread across her wrecked face—small and fragile and utterly genuine.

"I know," she said. "I was counting on it."

The shower was a rainfall fixture, wide enough for two, the water coming down in a steady, warm curtain. Steam fogged the glass enclosure. You stood behind Karina, cupping water in your palms and letting it run down her back. The rivulets tracked the geography you'd already memorized—the dip of her spine, the flare of her hips, the twin dimples just above the swell of her ass.

She leaned against the marble wall, forehead pressed to the cool stone.

"I can't feel my legs," she mumbled.

"That's normal."

"Is it?" A laugh, breathy and exhausted. "Good to know."

You reached for the body wash—something expensive, sandalwood and bergamot—and worked it into a lather between your hands. When you touched her shoulders, Karina sighed. The sound was different from the ones that had filled the bedroom an hour ago. Softer. Quieter. The sigh of a body that had been wrung dry and was finally allowed to rest.

Your hands moved down her back in slow circles. Over the faint red marks your fingers had left on her hips. Across the small of her back where sweat had pooled and dried. Down to the curve of her ass, where you kneaded the muscle with careful pressure.

"You're going to be sore tomorrow," you said.

"Good." Her voice was muffled against the marble. "I want to be sore. I want to remember."

"Remember what?"

She turned around. Water sluiced down her front, plastering her hair to her neck and shoulders. The mascara she hadn't been wearing was long gone, but her eyes were still rimmed with red, still slightly swollen. The marks on her nipples had darkened. Her lips—still puffy, still that deep bruised rose—curved into something that wasn't quite a smile.

"That I'm a real person. That someone wanted me. That for a few hours, I wasn't just a photograph."

You cupped her face. Your thumbs traced her cheekbones. "You were never just a photograph."

"You know what I mean."

"I do." You leaned down and kissed her forehead. Then the bridge of her nose. Then each eyelid, feather-light, the way you'd close a book you weren't finished reading. "But you need to hear it anyway. You're not what he made you feel. You were never what he made you feel."

Karina's breath shuddered out. Fresh tears mixed with the shower water—silent ones this time, not the wrenching sobs from before. She didn't answer. Didn't need to. You held her there in the steam until the water started to cool.

Later, wrapped in a robe that probably cost more than your monthly car payment, Karina walked you to the front door.

The foyer was different now. Less cavernous. The unopened flowers still sat on the console table, but something about them had shifted—they looked less like an accusation and more like a relic. A fossil from a life she was leaving behind.

She pressed a small folded paper into your palm.

"My real number," she said. "Not the one the agency has. Not the one my manager screens." Her fingers lingered on your wrist. "Call me. Or text me. I don't care which. Just… don't disappear."

You unfolded the paper. The handwriting was neat, precise—idol training, probably, years of signing autographs until every stroke was perfect. Ten digits. No name. She didn't need one.

"I won't disappear," you said.

"You say that now."

"I mean it." You caught her hand and lifted it to your lips. Kissed her knuckles. Then the inside of her wrist, where the skin was thin and the pulse still fluttered. "You survived eight months of being invisible in your own house. The least I can do is answer a text."

She laughed—a real one this time, short and surprised. "That's a low bar."

"I'm a simple man."

Karina pulled her hand back, but slowly, the way you set down something fragile. "Go. Before I ask you to stay."

You didn't say goodbye. The training had taught you better than that. Goodbye implied an ending, and endings were the one thing clients like Karina didn't need more of. Instead you stepped out into the cool night air, the paper clutched in your hand, and let the door click shut behind you.

Three weeks passed.

Senior Park called on a Tuesday.

"New client," he said, the way he always did—like he was offering you a gift and daring you to guess what was inside. "Young. Married. The usual story."

"The usual story" had become a kind of shorthand between you. Rich husband. Neglected wife. A mansion full of expensive things and no warmth. You'd heard it so many times now that the details blurred together—only the faces changed, and even those were starting to feel familiar. Actresses. Idols. The wives of men who'd acquired beauty like a stock portfolio and then forgotten to check on it.

"Who is it?" you asked.

A pause. Park was savoring this.

"Jang Wonyoung."

The name hit you like a bucket of cold water.

"Wonyoung? From IVE?"

"The one and only." You could hear the grin in his voice. "Married at twenty-eight. To Kim Seok-joong. The producer. You know him?"

Everyone knew him. Kim Seok-joong had produced half the hits on the charts for the last five years—a genius behind the mixing board, a tyrant in the studio, and, according to every rumor mill in the industry, a man who treated marriage vows like a suggestion. The tabloids had run photos of him leaving clubs with trainees young enough to be his daughters. Wonyoung's name always appeared in the same articles, usually paired with words like "humiliated" and "trapped."

"She called us directly," Park continued. "Apparently she heard about us through a mutual acquaintance. Someone who spoke very highly of your work."

You thought of Karina. Of the paper still folded in your wallet.

"Mutual acquaintance?"

"I don't ask. I don't want to know. I just make the arrangements." The rustle of paper on his end. "She's in Hannam-dong. The penthouse. Tomorrow night, nine o'clock. Don't be late."

The line went dead.

Hannam-dong at night was a different kind of wealth than the gated mansions of the suburbs. Here the money went vertical—glass towers that stabbed into the sky, each floor a monument to someone's ambition. The penthouse elevator required a code, which Senior Park had texted you an hour earlier along with a single line: She's nervous. Go slow.

The elevator ascended in silence. No muzak. No mirrored walls. Just brushed steel and the soft hum of hydraulics. You watched the floor numbers climb and tried not to think about the fact that Jang Wonyoung was waiting at the top of this building. Jang Wonyoung, who'd debuted at fourteen and been famous before she could legally drive. Jang Wonyoung, whose face had sold a million magazines. Jang Wonyoung, who'd married a man twice her age and apparently regretted it before the ink on the certificate was dry.

The doors opened onto a private foyer.

The penthouse was smaller than Karina's mansion—everything in Seoul was smaller than Karina's mansion—but it made up for it in verticality. Floor-to-ceiling windows looked out over the Han River, the city lights reflected in the water like scattered coins. The furniture was minimalist: a low white sofa, a glass coffee table, a single orchid in a concrete pot. No photographs. No personal touches. It looked less like a home and more like a hotel suite where someone had been staying for too long.

Wonyoung stood at the window with her back to you.

She was taller than you'd expected. Taller than she looked on stage, where the camera angles and the choreography and the other members had a way of shrinking her. In person, barefoot on the marble floor, she was statuesque—long legs, a narrow waist, the kind of proportions that designers fought to dress. She wore an ivory silk robe that fell to her ankles, her dark hair loose and straight, still damp at the ends as if she'd just showered.

"It's a nice view," you said.

She didn't turn around. "I used to think so."

Her voice was different from Karina's. Lower. Flatter. Where Karina's words had crackled with suppressed fury, Wonyoung's came out like the air leaking from a tire—slow, deflated, resigned.

You stepped further into the room. "Senior Park said you wanted to meet me."

"Meet you." A short laugh. "That's a polite way of putting it."

"I can leave."

"Can you?" Now she turned. The sight of her face hit you like a physical force—the kind of beauty that felt almost aggressive, all sharp angles and full lips and eyes that were too big for her face. But there was something hollow behind them. Something that had been scooped out and never filled back in. "You can leave. You can stay. You can do whatever you want. I'm just… here."

"How long have you been 'just here'?"

Wonyoung crossed her arms over her chest. The robe was silk, thin enough that you could see the outline of her body beneath it—the curve of her breasts, the flat plane of her stomach, the long lines of her thighs. She wasn't trying to be seductive. She wasn't trying to be anything. That was the most unsettling part.

"A year," she said. "Maybe longer. I stopped counting."

"A year of what?"

"Of waiting. Of pretending. Of showing up to award shows on his arm while everyone in the audience knows he fucked one of his backup dancers the night before." Her jaw tightened. "Do you know what that's like? To smile for cameras while your husband's mistress is standing ten feet away, adjusting her earpiece?"

You didn't answer. You'd learned with Karina that sometimes the best response was no response—just the space to let the words hang in the air until they lost their poison.

Wonyoung uncrossed her arms. Let them fall to her sides. "I'm not looking for sympathy."

"Then what are you looking for?"

"The same thing everyone who calls your agency is looking for." She met your eyes, and for a moment the hollowness flickered—replaced by something harder. Something almost defiant. "I want to feel like I exist. Like I'm not just… a decoration. A trophy. Something he acquired and then forgot about."

"How old are you?"

"Twenty-nine."

"And how old is he?"

A pause. "Fifty-two."

You let the number sit there. Fifty-two. Older than her father, probably. Old enough to know better. Old enough to treat a twenty-eight-year-old bride like a collectible—desirable right up until the moment the paperwork was signed, and then irrelevant.

"What does he say when you confront him?" you asked.

Wonyoung's laugh was empty. "He doesn't. He just… leaves. Goes to the studio. Comes back three days later smelling like someone else's perfume. And I'm supposed to pretend I don't notice. I'm supposed to be grateful. He made my career, after all. Half my songs were his. Half my image. Half my life." Her voice cracked on the last word. "I was nineteen when I met him. I didn't know anything. I thought it was love."

"What do you think it was now?"

"Ownership." The word came out flat. "He didn't want a wife. He wanted a muse. Something beautiful to inspire him. And now he's inspired by someone else, and I'm just… here. In this penthouse. With this view. Waiting for him to come home and pretending I don't know where he's been."

You moved closer. Not close enough to touch—not yet—but close enough that she had to tilt her head slightly to keep meeting your eyes.

"What do you want from tonight?"

Wonyoung held your gaze. The defiance was back, stronger now, warring with the exhaustion. "I want to stop waiting. I want to be touched by someone who actually wants to touch me. I want…" She swallowed. "I want to feel like a woman instead of a photograph. Does that make sense?"

"Perfect sense."

"And you can do that? You can… give me that?"

"I can give you whatever you're willing to take." You held out your hand, palm up, the same way you had with Karina three weeks ago. "But I need to hear you say it. I need to know you're sure."

Wonyoung looked at your hand. The hesitation was visible—the same hesitation every client had, the moment before they crossed the line from thinking about it to doing it. The moment where the life they'd been living warred with the life they wanted.

Then she took it.

"I'm sure," she said. "I've been sure for six months. I just didn't know who to call."

"Your safeword?"

"Red."

"And if you can't speak?"

"Three taps. Anywhere you can feel them."

Her palm was cool against yours. Her fingers were long and slender—pianist's fingers, though you knew she didn't play. The silk of her robe brushed against your wrist.

"Before we start," you said, "I want you to know something."

"What?"

"This isn't about your husband. This isn't about revenge. This isn't about making him feel what you've been feeling." You squeezed her hand gently. "This is about you. Right now. In this room. Nothing else exists. Do you understand?"

Wonyoung's lips parted. For a moment she looked younger—not twenty-nine, but nineteen again, standing in a studio somewhere and believing that the famous producer who'd noticed her was offering her the world.

"I understand," she said.

"Good. Now take off the robe."

She released your hand. Her fingers went to the sash at her waist, the silk loosening with a whisper. The robe slipped off her shoulders. Pooled at her feet.

Underneath she wore nothing at all.

Her body was long and lean, with the kind of proportions that seemed almost impossible outside of a magazine spread. Small, high breasts with nipples the color of pale tea. A waist that nipped in dramatically before flaring into hips that had launched a thousand fan cams. Long legs, smooth and toned, the muscles of a dancer visible beneath the skin. A dark triangle of hair at the junction of her thighs, neatly trimmed.

But what struck you most wasn't the beauty. It was the stillness. Karina had been trembling with suppressed energy, her body practically vibrating with need. Wonyoung stood completely motionless, her arms at her sides, her expression unreadable. She looked like a statue—beautiful and cold and utterly detached from the body she occupied.

"You're very beautiful," you said.

"I know." Not arrogant. Just… factual. "People tell me that a lot."

"Do you believe them?"

A flicker of something—surprise, maybe, or confusion. "What?"

"Do you believe them? When they tell you you're beautiful. Do you feel beautiful?"

Wonyoung's brow furrowed. "I don't… I don't know what you mean."

"I think you do." You circled her slowly, the way you'd circle a sculpture in a gallery. "You've been told you're beautiful your whole life. It's on every magazine cover. Every comment section. Every introduction. But when you look in the mirror, what do you see?"

Her voice was quieter now. "I see what everyone else sees."

"That's not what I asked."

You stopped behind her. The view from here was just as striking—the sweep of her back, the curve of her ass, the way her hair fell in a dark curtain between her shoulder blades. She hadn't turned to follow you. She was still facing the window, still looking at the river and the lights.

"I asked what you see," you continued. "Not what they see. Not what the cameras see. What you see."

The silence stretched. Outside, a boat moved across the Han River, its lights reflecting in the dark water.

"Nothing," Wonyoung said finally. "I see nothing. I see a body that exists to be looked at. A face that exists to be photographed. When I look in the mirror, I don't see a person. I see…" She trailed off.

"A product."

"Yes." The word was barely audible. "A product. Something that was packaged and sold before I understood what I was agreeing to."

You stepped closer. Close enough that the heat of your body registered against her bare back. Close enough that if she leaned back even an inch, she'd be touching you.

"That ends tonight," you said. "Tonight, you're not a product. You're not a photograph. You're not what your husband neglected or what the cameras captured. You're a woman. Just a woman. And I'm going to make you feel like one."

Wonyoung's breathing had changed. Shallower. Faster. Her shoulders rose and fell in the window's reflection.

"How?" she asked.

"First, I'm going to touch you. Not the way a photographer touches you. Not the way a stylist touches you. I'm going to touch you the way a man touches a woman he wants." You raised your hand and let it hover just above her shoulder—not making contact, but close enough that she could feel the heat of your palm. "And you're going to stand right here and let yourself feel it. All of it. Every sensation. Do you understand?"

Her voice was a whisper. "Yes."

"Good."

You let your hand settle on her shoulder.

The contact was light—just your palm against her skin, your fingers curving over the ridge of her collarbone. But Wonyoung's reaction was immediate. Her breath stuttered. Her spine stiffened. The muscles beneath your hand went rigid, then slowly, gradually, began to soften.

"When's the last time someone touched you?" you asked.

"I don't…" She swallowed. "I don't remember."

"Months?"

"Longer. Before the wedding, maybe. He was… interested then. Before he had me. After that…" She shook her head.

You moved your hand down her arm. Slowly. Deliberately. Letting your fingers trace the curve of her bicep, the dip of her elbow, the smooth skin of her forearm. Goosebumps rose in the wake of your touch.

"Close your eyes," you said.

She did. Her lashes swept down against her cheeks, dark against the pale skin.

"Now I want you to focus on what you're feeling. Not what you're thinking. Not what you're worried about. Just the physical sensation. My hand on your skin. The heat of my body behind you. The cool air on the rest of you. Can you do that?"

"I can try."

"Don't try. Just do."

You brought your other hand to her waist. The silk of the robe had been thin, but her bare skin was thinner—softer, warmer, alive in a way the fabric never could be. You felt the slight give of flesh over muscle, the delicate architecture of her ribs. Wonyoung's lips parted. A tremor ran through her.

"Good," you murmured. "That's it. Stay present. Stay here."

Your hands moved together now—one sliding up to cup her breast, the other tracing the curve of her hip. The contact was gentle, almost reverent. You weren't trying to arouse her yet. You were trying to wake her up. To remind her body that it was capable of sensation beyond the clinical touches of stylists and makeup artists and the indifferent hands of a husband who'd long since stopped seeing her as anything but an acquisition.

Her breast was small and firm, fitting perfectly in your palm. The nipple was already tightening—an involuntary response, the body's language for yes, this, more. You circled it with your thumb, not quite touching the peak, letting the anticipation build.

"Oh," she breathed. Just that. Just the single syllable, but it was the most human sound she'd made since you'd arrived.

"You feel that?"

"Yes."

"What does it feel like?"

"Warm. It feels… warm. And tingly. Like—like pins and needles, but soft."

"That's your body waking up." You brushed your thumb across her nipple, finally making contact. The peak was hard now, pebbled and tight. Wonyoung's breath caught. Her hips shifted—an instinctive movement, barely conscious. "That's your body remembering what it feels like to be touched."

"Don't stop," she whispered.

"I'm not stopping. I'm just getting started."

You turned her around to face you. Her eyes were still closed, her lips slightly parted, a flush spreading across her chest. The cool, detached statue from five minutes ago was already beginning to thaw.

"Open your eyes," you said.

She did. The hollowness was still there, but it had receded slightly—pushed back by something warmer. Something hungrier.

"Lie down on the bed," you said. "On your back. I'm going to touch every inch of you, and you're going to stay present for all of it. No disappearing. No retreating into your head. You're going to feel everything. Do you understand?"

Wonyoung's voice was steadier now. "Yes."

"Good. Then let's begin."

She walked toward the bedroom—the same statuesque stride, but looser now, less guarded. The ivory robe stayed in a puddle on the floor behind her, already forgotten.

You followed her. The penthouse bedroom was all windows on one side, the city lights glittering below like a mirror image of the stars. A king-sized bed dominated the center of the room. White sheets. Too many pillows. The same story, different setting.

Wonyoung lay down in the center of the mattress. Arranged herself with her arms at her sides, her hair spread across the pillow, her legs slightly apart. The position was almost clinical—like she was posing for a photograph. Muscle memory.

"Relax your arms," you said. "Above your head."

She lifted them. The movement pulled her breasts higher, flattened her stomach.

"Close your eyes."

Her lashes swept down.

You knelt on the bed beside her. In the silence, you could hear her breathing—quicker than before, but still controlled. Still holding onto something. You would need to break through that control. Not with force. With patience. With attention. With the kind of touch she'd been starved of for years.

"Now," you said, letting your hand hover over her stomach. "Let's find out what Jang Wonyoung feels like when she stops being a photograph and starts being a woman."

Your palm settled on her skin.

And Wonyoung began to tremble.

Your palm settled on Wonyoung's stomach.

The trembling started small—a flutter of muscle beneath warm skin—then spread outward, rippling through her thighs, her belly, the flat plane of her chest. She kept her eyes closed, arms still arranged above her head in that posing-for-a-photograph way that had become second nature.

"You're shaking," you said.

"I know." Her voice was thinner now. "I can't seem to stop."

"Don't stop. Let it happen."

Your hand moved in a slow circle, tracing the faint definition of her abdominal muscles. The skin here was softer than you'd expected—yielding, warm, the kind of softness that came from being young and healthy and well-cared-for in every way except the one that mattered. Wonyoung's breath stuttered when your palm grazed the bottom of her ribcage.

"What are you feeling?"

"Your hand." A pause. "It's… warmer than I expected."

"What else?"

"I don't know. It's been so long since—" She swallowed. The movement traveled down her throat, a subtle ripple. "Since anyone touched me without an agenda. My stylists touch me to adjust my clothes. Photographers touch me to fix my hair. Seok-joong…" The name came out like a curse. "He doesn't touch me at all."

You traced the lower curve of her breast. Not the nipple—not yet—just the swell where her chest began to rise. The skin was impossibly smooth, pale as cream in the city light streaming through the windows.

"When's the last time you touched yourself?"

Wonyoung's eyes opened. The question had surprised her. "What?"

"You heard me."

"I don't…" Her brow furrowed. "I don't do that."

"You don't masturbate?"

The word made her flinch. A tiny recoil, barely visible, but you caught it. "That's not something I—I mean, I've never really—"

"Never?" You kept your hand where it was, still and warm against the curve of her breast. "You've never made yourself come?"

Wonyoung closed her eyes again. A flush was spreading from her chest up her neck, blooming across her collarbones like spilled wine. "Once. Maybe twice. A long time ago. Before I debuted. Before everything got so…" She trailed off.

"So controlled."

"Yes."

"Show me."

Her eyes flew open. "What?"

"Sit up." You withdrew your hand and sat back on your heels. "I want to watch you touch yourself. I want to see how Jang Wonyoung pleasures her own body when no one else is looking."

The hesitation was visible—a war playing out behind her eyes. The trained idol, the curated image, the woman who'd spent her entire adult life being looked at without ever being touched. Then something shifted. A crack in the facade. Her lips parted.

"Okay," she whispered.

She sat up slowly. The movement was graceful despite her trembling—dancer's muscle memory, the body knowing what to do even when the mind was unmoored. She propped herself against the headboard, the white sheets pooling around her hips. Her breasts were small and high on her chest, the nipples still tight from your earlier attention.

"Lie back," you said. "Spread your legs. Let me see all of you."

Wonyoung arranged herself against the pillows. Her thighs parted with visible reluctance—not resistance, but the shyness of a woman who'd been taught that her body was a commodity, not a source of pleasure. The dark triangle of hair between her legs was neatly trimmed, the lips beneath barely visible in the dim light.

"Touch your breasts first," you said. "The way you like it."

Her hands lifted. The movement was hesitant, almost clinical, like she was examining herself rather than pleasuring herself. Her fingers brushed her nipples and she gasped—a sharp, surprised sound.

"That's it. They're sensitive, aren't they?"

"Yes—I didn't know—no one's ever—"

"No one's ever played with your nipples?"

"No." The word came out strangled. Her fingers circled the tight peaks, tracing the areolae with tentative strokes. "Seok-joong said breasts were for—ah—for looking at. Not for—"

"Not for touching."

"Not for touching."

You watched her hands grow bolder. The circles became pinches—gentle at first, then harder, the way you'd done earlier. Her back arched slightly. Her mouth fell open.

"Good girl. Now move one hand lower. Touch yourself between your legs."

Wonyoung's right hand slid down her stomach. The trembling was worse now—her whole body vibrating with a tension that had nothing to do with cold and everything to do with the forbidden nature of what she was doing. Her fingers reached the dark curls and stopped.

"I don't know if I can—"

"You can. Part your lips for me. Show me your cunt."

The vulgar word made her gasp. But her fingers obeyed—they slid through the trimmed hair, parted the outer lips, exposed the pink flesh within. Even from where you knelt, you could see the gleam of moisture. The way her inner lips clung together, then separated with a wet, sticky sound.

"You're wet," you said. "You're wet and you haven't even touched your clit yet."

"Is that—is that normal?"

"It's more than normal. It's beautiful. You're beautiful." You leaned closer. "Now find your clit. The little pearl at the top. Touch it."

Wonyoung's middle finger found the swollen bud. The contact made her whole body jerk. A sound escaped her—half moan, half whimper—and her thighs snapped shut around her hand.

"Keep them open. I want to watch."

"I can't—it's too—"

"You can. Open your legs, Wonyoung. Let me see what your body does when you stop being a photograph."

She forced her thighs apart. The effort was visible—muscles trembling, breath coming in sharp, ragged bursts. Her finger began to circle her clit in slow, tentative strokes. The hood pulled back with each pass, revealing the slick pearl beneath. Her other hand stayed on her breast, pinching and rolling the nipple in counterpoint.

"There," she breathed. "Oh—there—that feels—"

"What does it feel like?"

"Tight. Hot. Like—like something's building. Like I need to—" Her circling grew faster. "Like I need to—"

"You need to come."

"Yes." The word was a sob. "Yes. I need to come. Please. I've never—not with anyone watching—not with anyone—"

"Come for me, Wonyoung. Let go. I've got you."

Her body seized. Her back arched off the mattress, her head thrown back, her mouth open in a silent scream. The hand between her legs moved frantically—rubbing, pressing, chasing the climax that was crashing over her. A keening sound escaped her throat, high and desperate.

Then she collapsed.

Her chest heaved. Her thighs quivered. The hand on her breast fell away, and the other remained pressed against her cunt—not moving now, just holding, as if she couldn't bear to let go of the sensation.

"That was your first orgasm with an audience," you said.

Wonyoung's laugh was breathless, almost giddy. "That was my first orgasm. Period. I don't think the other times—I don't think they were real. Not like that."

"Not like that."

"No." She opened her eyes and looked at you. The hollowness was gone—replaced by something brighter, something almost hungry. "I want more. I want—" She swallowed. "I want you inside me. But I want to be in control. Just this once. I want to decide."

You raised an eyebrow. "You want to ride me."

"Yes." The word came out stronger now. "I've spent my whole life being positioned. Being told where to stand and how to pose and what to wear. I want—just this once—I want to be the one who decides. Does that make sense?"

"It makes perfect sense."

You stood up from the bed and unbuckled your pants. Wonyoung watched with open curiosity—the way her eyes tracked the movement of your hands, the way her lips parted when you pushed your boxers down and your cock sprang free. She'd seen it earlier, of course, but now she looked at it differently. Like she was sizing it up. Like she was planning.

"It's thicker than I thought," she murmured.

"Is that a problem?"

"No." A small smile played at the corner of her mouth. "It's just… I've never seen one this close before. Not like this. Seok-joong and I—the few times we—it was always in the dark. Always over quickly. He never let me look."

"Look all you want."

She did. Her gaze traveled the length of your shaft—the vein that pulsed along the underside, the ridge of the head, the way the skin pulled tight when you were fully hard. Her tongue darted out and wet her lips.

"Lie down," she said. "On your back."

You obeyed. The sheets were cool against your shoulders. Wonyoung rose on her knees and swung one long leg over your hips, straddling you. The position put her cunt directly above your cock—you could see the pink of her inner lips, still slick from her orgasm, still parted and ready. A drop of her arousal fell onto your stomach.

"Like this?" she asked.

"Reverse."

"What?"

"Turn around. Face my feet. Reverse cowgirl."

Wonyoung blinked. Then understanding dawned, and with it came something you hadn't seen on her face before—a flicker of genuine excitement. "I've seen this position. In… things I've watched. When I was alone."

"Then you know how it works."

She turned around. The movement was awkward—she had to lift one leg, then the other, bracing herself with a hand on your thigh—but the awkwardness was part of the appeal. She wasn't performing. She wasn't posing. She was just a woman figuring out how to take what she wanted.

When she settled into position, facing away from you, the view was spectacular. The long sweep of her back. The curve of her ass, round and firm. The dark cleft between her cheeks, and below that, her cunt—still wet, still open, positioned directly above your cock.

"Reach back," you said. "Take hold of me."

Her hand fumbled behind her. Fingers brushed your shaft, then your balls, then closed around the base. Her grip was tentative—too light, too careful—but she guided the head to her entrance anyway. The contact made her gasp.

"Oh god. You're so—I can feel how big you are just from this—"

"Take your time. You're in control."

Wonyoung lowered herself an inch. The head of your cock pressed against her opening, parting the slick lips. The heat of her was incredible—wet and tight and pulsing with the aftershocks of her orgasm. She stopped there, breathing hard, her thighs trembling on either side of your hips.

"I don't know if I can—"

"You can. Slowly. Just a little at a time."

She sank down another inch. The head slipped inside her, and Wonyoung cried out—a sharp, startled sound that was half pain and half pleasure. Her inner walls clenched around you, a rippling squeeze that traveled from tip to base.

"Fuck—fuck, you're stretching me—"

"You're doing so well. Take what you need."

Another inch. Then another. Her cunt was impossibly tight—tighter than Karina's, tighter than anyone you'd been with in recent memory. The walls gripped you like a fist, hot and slick and pulsing. Wonyoung's breathing had gone ragged. Her head dropped forward. Her hands braced on your thighs, nails digging in.

"I'm only halfway—oh god—I'm only halfway and I already feel so full—"

"Keep going. You wanted control. Take it."

She took it. Her hips dropped the rest of the way, and your cock buried itself to the hilt inside her. Wonyoung screamed. The sound was raw and uncontrolled—nothing like the polished idol voice, nothing like the careful, measured tones she'd used earlier. This was pure animal. Pure sensation.

"Oh fuck—oh fuck—you're in my stomach—I can feel you in my stomach—"

"Good. Now move."

She lifted her hips. The drag of her walls against your shaft made your vision swim. When she dropped back down, the impact sent a visible ripple through her ass. The cheeks jiggled with the force of it.

"Yes—" She did it again. Faster. "Yes—this is—this is what I wanted—this is what I needed—"

"Tell me what it feels like."

"Full. So full. Like—like I'm being split open. Like I'm being—ah—like I'm being claimed." She was moving faster now, finding a rhythm, her hips rolling in a way that spoke to years of dance training. The muscles in her back flexed and released with each stroke. "But I'm the one claiming you. I'm the one—I'm the one in control—"

"That's right. You're in control. Take your pleasure, Wonyoung. Take all of it."

Her pace quickened. The wet sounds of her cunt filled the bedroom—a slick, rhythmic slap every time she bottomed out. Your cock was coated in her arousal, glistening in the city light. She reached back with one hand and grabbed your chest—not for balance, but for leverage, pulling herself harder onto you with each stroke.

"Touch my—touch my breasts—please—I need—"

You reached up and cupped her breasts from behind. The position was awkward but the effect was immediate—Wonyoung's rhythm faltered, then resumed faster than before. You pinched her nipples and she sobbed.

"Yes—yes—harder—"

You twisted. She keened. Her hips became a blur—up and down, up and down, fucking herself on your cock with a desperation that bordered on violence. Her head was thrown back now, her dark hair cascading down her spine, her whole body sheened with sweat.

"I'm close—I'm getting close again—I can feel it building—"

"Look at you. Jang Wonyoung. The nation's sweetheart. Riding a stranger's cock in her marital bed. Moaning like an animal. Dripping down my thighs."

"Yes—yes—I'm dripping—I'm making a mess—Seok-joong would hate this—he'd hate how wet I am—he'd hate how—how much I love it—"

"How much do you love it?"

"So much—so fucking much—I love being full—I love being stretched—I love being in control—I love that you're letting me—" Her voice cracked. "I love that you're letting me take what I need—"

The tears started then.

They came without warning—a sudden spill from her eyes, tracking down her cheeks and dripping onto your thighs. Her rhythm faltered. Her breathing hitched and broke into sobs.

"I'm sorry—I'm sorry—I don't know why I'm—"

"Don't stop." You squeezed her breasts gently. "Don't apologize. Keep moving. Let it out."

"I can't—I can't stop crying—" But her hips kept moving. Slower now, but still moving. "It's just—it's been so long—I've been so alone—"

"I know."

"No one touches me. No one looks at me. No one wants me. I'm just—I'm just a thing he bought and forgot about—"

"You're not a thing. You're a woman. A beautiful, passionate woman who deserves to be touched and wanted and pleasured. Keep moving. Let yourself feel it."

The sobs grew louder. Her hips moved faster, chasing the release that was building despite—or maybe because of—the tears. Her hand tightened on your chest, nails digging crescents into your skin.

"I want to come—please—please let me come—"

"It's yours. Take it. Come on my cock, Wonyoung. Come while you're crying. Come while you're in control. Show me what you look like when you let go."

She shattered.

The orgasm hit her like a wave—a convulsive, full-body spasm that made her back arch and her thighs clamp around your hips. Her cunt seized around your shaft, a rhythmic pulsing that milked you from base to tip. The scream that tore from her throat was wordless and raw, echoing off the penthouse windows.

And then she squirted.

The fluid gushed around your cock—a hot, copious flood that soaked your thighs and the sheets beneath you. Wonyoung's hips kept moving through it, grinding down onto you, drawing out every pulse of her climax. The squelching sounds were obscene. Her sobs mingled with moans.

"Oh god—oh god, I'm still—it's still going—I can't stop—"

"Don't stop. Take everything."

She rode the orgasm until her thighs gave out. Then she collapsed backward, her spine landing against your chest, her head falling back onto your shoulder. Her cunt was still spasming weakly around your cock. Her chest heaved. Her face was a wreck—tears and sweat and smeared mascara that she hadn't been wearing.

You wrapped your arms around her waist and held her.

The silence stretched. Outside, the Han River glittered in the darkness, indifferent to everything happening in this penthouse. Wonyoung's breathing gradually slowed. The tremors in her thighs subsided.

"Thank you," she whispered.

"You don't have to thank me."

"I know. I want to." She turned her head, her cheek pressed against your chest. "No one's ever… I've never cried during sex before. I've never cried at all. Not since the wedding. I thought I'd forgotten how."

"Tears are just your body's way of releasing what you've been holding too long."

She laughed—a small, wet sound. "You sound like a therapist."

"I've had practice."

Silence again. Then, quieter: "Will you stay? Not—not for more sex. Just… stay. Until I fall asleep. I don't want to be alone tonight."

You pressed a kiss to her damp temple. "I'll stay."

Wonyoung sighed. The sound was different from before—not resignation, but relief. The relief of a woman who'd finally let go of something she'd been carrying for years.

"Good," she murmured. "That's good."

She closed her eyes. In the penthouse bedroom, with the city lights glittering below and your cock still half-hard inside her, Jang Wonyoung finally stopped trembling.

You held her until her breathing evened out. Until her body went slack against yours. Until the tears on her cheeks dried to salt and the wetness between her thighs cooled on your skin.

Tomorrow, you'd leave. Tomorrow, she'd go back to being Jang Wonyoung, idol-turned-trophy-wife, and you'd go back to whatever Senior Park had lined up next.

But tonight, she wasn't a photograph. Tonight, she was just a woman who'd remembered how to feel.

And that, you'd learned, was worth more than any paycheck the agency could offer.

Waking came in stages.

First, the soft gray light of early morning pressing against your eyelids. The penthouse windows had no curtains—Wonyoung liked to wake with the sun, you'd learn later—and the Han River was a sheet of hammered silver outside the glass.

Second, the weight. Or rather, the absence of it. Sometime in the night she'd shifted off your chest, and now the mattress beside you was warm but empty.

Third, the sensation.

Wet. Hot. A rhythmic pressure that started at the base of your cock and traveled upward in slow, deliberate pulls. Your hips stirred before your mind caught up—an instinctive response, the body recognizing pleasure before the brain had finished booting up.

You opened your eyes.

Wonyoung was between your legs.

Her dark hair spilled across your thighs in a tangled mess, still sleep-mussed from the night before. The sheet had slipped off her shoulders, leaving her bare—the long sweep of her spine, the curve of her ass, the soles of her feet crossed at the ankle behind her. She'd positioned herself on her stomach, propped on her elbows, and her mouth was wrapped around your cock.

She was still learning. The technique was messier than Karina's had been—more enthusiasm than skill, more eagerness than precision. Her tongue moved in uncertain patterns, tracing the ridge of the head, then the vein underneath, then back again as if she couldn't decide which part she wanted to taste most. Saliva pooled at the corners of her lips and dripped down your shaft, slicking her fingers where they curled around the base.

But what she lacked in experience, she made up for in something else. Something rarer.

She was happy.

You could see it in the way her cheeks bunched—the muscles straining to smile even with her lips stretched wide. In the little hums that vibrated through your shaft every time she took you deeper. In the way her hips wiggled slightly, a tiny dance of satisfaction, like a cat kneading a favorite blanket.

You chuckled. The sound was rough with sleep.

Wonyoung's eyes flicked up to meet yours. They were clearer than they'd been last night—the hollowness replaced by something bright and mischievous. She didn't stop sucking. If anything, she redoubled her efforts, her head bobbing faster, her tongue working the underside of your shaft with renewed determination.

"What a cheeky girl," you murmured.

Your hand found her head. Your fingers threaded through the dark tangles of her hair, not pulling, not directing—just holding. Just letting her feel the weight of your palm against her scalp. Wonyoung's eyes fluttered closed. The hum she made this time was different—softer, more satisfied. A sound of pure contentment.

She pulled back until just the tip remained in her mouth. Her tongue circled the head—once, twice, a slow figure-eight that made your breath catch. Then she pushed forward again, taking you deeper than before, and you felt the head of your cock bump the back of her throat.

She gagged. Coughed. Pulled back with a wet, gasping laugh.

"Too much?" you asked.

"Not enough." Her voice was hoarse—fucked raw from the night before, from the screaming and the crying and now this. "I wanted to… I woke up and you were still here and I just wanted to…"

"To what?"

"To taste you. Before you left." She rested her cheek against your thigh, her breath warm on your damp skin. "Is that weird?"

"No." You stroked her hair. "It's not weird."

"I've never done that before. The morning thing. I've never woken up next to someone and thought… I want to make them feel good. Just because." Her fingers traced idle patterns on your hip. "I've never woken up next to anyone, actually. Seok-joong never stayed the night. Even when we were engaged. He said he couldn't sleep in unfamiliar beds."

"His own bed was unfamiliar?"

Wonyoung's laugh was bitter. "I was the unfamiliar part."

You sat up. The movement dislodged her from your thigh, and she rose with you—sitting back on her heels, her hair a wild curtain around her shoulders, her lips swollen and slick. The morning light caught the angles of her face, the sharp cheekbones and the full mouth, and for a moment she looked exactly like the magazine covers. The nation's sweetheart. The girl who'd debuted at fourteen and never stopped smiling for cameras.

But the smile she gave you now was different. Smaller. Realer. A smile that belonged to her and no one else.

"Come here," you said.

She came. You gathered her in your arms and lifted her—bridal style, her long legs draped over one arm, her head cradled against your shoulder. She was lighter than you'd expected. All those years of dieting for comebacks, probably. All those years of being told she needed to be smaller, thinner, more perfect.

"The shower," you said. "We're both a mess."

"Your fault." But she was grinning as she said it.

"Entirely."

The bathroom was all white marble and chrome fixtures, with a rainfall showerhead even larger than Karina's. You set Wonyoung down on the heated tile floor—her bare feet made a soft sound against the stone—and reached into the glass enclosure to turn on the water. Steam began to fill the room almost immediately.

She stepped into the shower first. You followed.

The water was hot but not scalding, beating down on your shoulders and back in a steady rhythm. Wonyoung tilted her face up into the spray, letting it run over her closed eyelids and down her throat. The mascara she hadn't been wearing was still absent, and without it she looked younger. Not twenty-nine. Not the weary trophy wife from last night. Just a woman in the morning, clean and bare and unguarded.

You reached for the body wash—something floral, jasmine maybe—and worked it into a lather between your palms.

"Turn around," you said.

She did. You started with her shoulders, the same way you had with Karina. The same ritual. The same aftercare. The same reminder that what happened in the bedroom wasn't just about sex—it was about being seen. Being handled. Being treated like a body that mattered.

Wonyoung sighed as your hands moved down her back. "You do this for all your clients?"

"The shower?"

"The… gentleness. The talking. The staying until morning."

"Most of them." You worked the soap into the dip of her spine, the curve of her hips. "The ones who need it."

"And how do you know which ones need it?"

You turned her around to face you. Water sluiced down between you, washing away the suds. Her eyes were level with your collarbone; she had to tilt her head back to meet your gaze.

"Because they're the ones who cry," you said. "And you cried."

Wonyoung's expression flickered—something passing through it too fast to name. Then she reached up and took the body wash from the shelf behind you. Poured some into her own palm. Worked it into a lather.

"Your turn," she said.

Her hands on your chest were tentative at first—the same hesitance from last night, the same uncertainty about what she was allowed to do. But as she grew bolder, her touch firmed. Her palms traced the lines of your pectorals, the ridges of your abdomen, the V of your hips. She was washing you, but she was also learning you. Mapping the geography of a body that wasn't hers.

"You're different from what I expected," she said.

"Different how?"

"I don't know. Less… transactional." She rinsed her hands under the spray. "When I called the agency, I thought it would be like ordering room service. Something mechanical. Something I could pretend didn't happen afterward. But this is…"

"This is?"

She looked up at you. The water had plastered her hair to her skull, darkened it to near-black. Droplets clung to her lashes.

"Real," she said. "This feels real."

You cupped her face in your hands. Your thumbs traced the sharp line of her cheekbones, the soft skin beneath her eyes. She leaned into the touch—pressed her cheek against your palm like a cat seeking warmth.

"It is real," you said. "Whatever happens in this room, whatever you feel—it's real. The pleasure is real. The tears are real. You're not pretending anymore. You're not performing. You're just… here."

"Just here." She tested the words. "I like that. I've never been 'just here' anywhere. There's always been a camera. Or a manager. Or a husband who wanted me to be somewhere else."

"Not here."

"Not here." She rose on her toes. Her lips brushed yours—soft, tentative, a question more than a statement. "Thank you."

"You already thanked me."

"I know. I want to do it again. Properly." She kissed you again, deeper this time. Her lips parted, and her tongue traced the seam of your mouth—asking permission, not demanding it. You opened for her, and she made a small sound, something between a sigh and a hum, as her tongue met yours.

The kiss was different from the ones last night. Last night had been hungry. Desperate. A woman starving for contact and finally given permission to eat. This kiss was slower. Sweeter. A kiss of gratitude rather than need.

Her arms wrapped around your neck. Your hands found her waist. The water beat down on both of you, and the steam rose around you like a curtain, and for a long moment there was nothing in the world but this—the heat and the wet and the soft pressure of her mouth on yours.

When she finally pulled back, her lips were pinker than before. Kiss-swollen. The color had risen in her cheeks.

"I put my number in your phone," she said.

"You what?"

"While you were sleeping. Earlier. Before I…" She gestured vaguely downward, toward the general vicinity of your crotch. "I wanted to make sure you had it. In case you wanted to call. In case you wanted to…"

"To what?"

"To see me again. Not as a client. Not through the agency. Just… me." Her voice had gone smaller. The confidence from moments ago was fading, replaced by the same vulnerability you'd seen last night. "Is that allowed? Is that something you do?"

You considered the question. The agency had rules about this—Senior Park was very clear about keeping things professional, about not blurring the lines between service and relationship. But Senior Park wasn't here. And Wonyoung was looking at you with those too-big eyes, the ones that had been empty last night and were now full of something fragile and hopeful.

"It's allowed," you said. "But I should warn you—I'm not a boyfriend. I'm not going to be. Whatever this is, it's not going to become something else."

"I know." She didn't look disappointed. If anything, she looked relieved. "I don't want a boyfriend. I don't want another man who owns me. I just want… someone who sees me. Someone who touches me like I'm real. Someone who'll answer when I call." A pause. "Will you answer?"

"Every time."

She kissed you again—quick and fierce, a press of lips that was more gratitude than passion. Then she stepped back, out of the spray, and reached for a towel.

"You should go," she said. "Before I ask you to stay again."

The elevator ride down was quiet. No muzak. No mirrored walls. Just brushed steel and the soft hum of hydraulics and the memory of Wonyoung's voice: Please… call me again.

You checked your phone in the lobby. There it was, in your contacts, added sometime in the early morning hours while you were still asleep: Wonyoung ♡. The heart was a nice touch. A little cheeky. A little hopeful.

You smiled despite yourself.

Three days passed.

Senior Park called on a Friday.

"New client," he said, the same way he always did—that particular lilt in his voice that meant he was enjoying himself. "Actress. Very famous. Very married. Although her marriage is…" A pause. "Complicated."

"Complicated how?"

"You'll see. She's been asking for you specifically. Apparently your reputation is spreading."

"Who is it?"

"Moon Ga Young."

The name made you stop walking. You were on the street in Gangnam, the afternoon sun beating down on your neck, and for a moment you just stood there with the phone pressed to your ear.

"Moon Ga Young? The actress?"

"The one and only. Star of True Beauty. The Interest of Love. Half a dozen other dramas I've never watched but my wife loves." The rustle of papers on his end. "She's staying at the Signiel. Suite 2704. Tonight, eight o'clock."

"Wait." You stepped into the shade of a building, out of the flow of pedestrian traffic. "Moon Ga Young is married? I didn't know that."

"Neither did anyone else. She kept it quiet. Very quiet. No press, no announcement, no wedding photos in the tabloids." Park's voice had gone sly. "The husband is some finance executive. American. Works in New York. They've been married for two years, and in those two years, he's been in Seoul for a total of six weeks. You do the math."

Six weeks out of a hundred and four. You did the math.

"Same story," you said.

"Same story, different window. The view from the Signiel is nicer, though. She's booked the suite for the whole weekend. Says she wants to take her time." Another pause. "She also said—and I quote—'Tell him I'm not fragile. Tell him I don't need the gentle version.' End quote."

You raised an eyebrow. "She said that?"

"Word for word. I think you're in for an interesting night."

The line went dead.

The Signiel Seoul occupied the 76th through 101st floors of the Lotte World Tower. It was the kind of hotel where the lobby was on the 79th floor and the elevator ride up made your ears pop. The kind of hotel where the staff wore suits that cost more than your monthly rent and the vases in the hallways were probably worth more than your car.

Suite 2704 was at the end of a quiet corridor. The door was a slab of dark wood with a brass number, and when you knocked, the sound was swallowed by the thick carpet.

"Come in. It's open."

The voice was lower than you'd expected. Smokier. The kind of voice that belonged in a noir film, all shadows and secrets.

You pushed the door open.

The suite was magnificent. Floor-to-ceiling windows looked out over the Seoul skyline, the city lights glittering below like a spill of diamonds. The furniture was modern and understated—a low gray sofa, a glass coffee table, an abstract painting that was probably worth more than everything you owned. The bedroom was visible through an open doorway, the bed enormous and white and untouched.

And there, on the balcony, stood Moon Ga Young.

She was smaller in person than she appeared on screen. The camera had a way of adding presence, of making actors seem larger than life. In reality, she was petite—barely over five feet, with delicate wrists and a narrow frame that made her look almost breakable. Her hair was long and dark, falling past her shoulders in loose waves. Her face was the same one you'd seen in a dozen dramas—the wide eyes, the full lips, the delicate bone structure that made her look younger than her thirty-something years.

But the robe she was wearing was anything but delicate.

It was silk, pale champagne in color, and almost entirely transparent. The fabric clung to her body like a whisper, revealing the outline of her breasts, the curve of her waist, the dark triangle between her thighs. She wore nothing beneath it. The robe was held closed by a single sash, loosely tied, and as she turned to face you, the front gaped open slightly—just enough to confirm that yes, she was completely naked under there.

In one hand, she held a flute of champagne. The liquid was pale gold, the bubbles rising in lazy spirals.

"You're punctual," she said. "I like that."

"Senior Park said you didn't want the gentle version."

"Did he?" A smile played at the corner of her mouth. "I said I didn't need it. There's a difference." She raised the champagne flute to her lips and took a sip. Her eyes never left yours. "Would you like a drink? There's a bottle on the minibar. It's not cheap—I made sure of that."

"I'm working."

"So am I. Or at least, I'm about to be." The smile widened. "One drink won't hurt. Consider it part of the negotiation."

You crossed to the minibar. The champagne was vintage, the label one you recognized from a previous client's penthouse. You poured yourself a glass—not because you wanted it, but because refusing would mean ceding the rhythm of the encounter to her. And Ga Young, you were already beginning to understand, was someone who was used to setting the rhythm.

She joined you at the sofa. The robe gaped further as she sat, revealing the pale curve of one breast. She didn't bother to adjust it.

"So," she said, settling back against the cushions. "You're the man who made Karina cry."

You paused with the glass halfway to your lips. "She told you?"

"She told someone, who told someone, who told me. The idol world is small. Smaller than you'd think." Ga Young swirled her champagne. "The rumor is that you were… thorough. That you gave her exactly what she needed. That you didn't treat her like glass."

"I don't treat anyone like glass."

"No. I don't imagine you do." She leaned forward, setting her glass on the coffee table. The movement made the robe fall open completely, exposing the full length of her body. She didn't seem to notice. Or if she noticed, she didn't care. "Here's the thing. I've been married for two years. In those two years, I've had sex exactly four times. All of them on our wedding night. After that, my husband decided he preferred New York to Seoul. He calls me once a week, usually from his office, usually while he's doing something else. Reading emails. Checking stocks. He's never once asked me how I'm feeling."

"Does he know you're here?"

"He knows I'm at a hotel. He doesn't know why." Ga Young's smile was sharp. "He probably thinks I'm having a spa weekend. That's what he'd do, if he thought about it at all. 'Ga Young's having a spa weekend. How nice for her.'" The mimicry was cruel and precise. "He doesn't know me well enough to suspect anything else."

"And what are you looking for tonight?"

She leaned back. The robe fell open completely now, pooling on the cushions around her. She was leaner than Karina, leaner than Wonyoung—the body of a woman who'd spent years in front of cameras, who'd been told she needed to be thinner, always thinner. Her breasts were small, the nipples a pale pink. Her stomach was flat. The hair between her thighs was dark and neatly trimmed.

"I'm not looking for therapy," she said. "I'm not looking for someone to hold me while I cry. I'm not looking for validation or reassurance or any of the things your other clients probably need." She uncrossed her legs and crossed them again. The movement was deliberate. Performative. "I'm looking for a good fuck. That's it. That's all. I want to be fucked so hard I forget my own name. I want to walk bowlegged tomorrow. I want to feel like a woman instead of a mannequin. Can you do that?"

You set your champagne glass down next to hers. "Safeword?"

"Red."

"Tap-out?"

"Three taps. Anywhere." She cocked her head. "You're very professional. I like that too."

"Part of the service."

"Then let's get started." She stood up. The robe stayed on the sofa, a champagne-colored puddle of silk. "The bedroom's through there. I want you to use every inch of that bed. I want you to use every inch of me. And I want you to stop treating me like I'm going to break." She walked toward the bedroom, her bare feet silent on the thick carpet. At the doorway, she paused and looked back over her shoulder. "I'm not going to break. I promise."

The bedroom was all windows on one side, the city lights spread out below like a circuit board. The bed was king-sized, the sheets white, the pillows arranged in a perfect geometric pattern. Ga Young climbed onto the mattress and positioned herself in the center—on her back, her arms above her head, her legs slightly apart. The pose was deliberate. A parody of submission. The same way she'd done everything so far—with a wink, with a smirk, with the implicit understanding that she was playing a role.

"The last time I had sex," she said, "was my wedding night. He was drunk. I was nervous. It lasted maybe six minutes. He fell asleep immediately afterward, and when I woke up the next morning, he was already on a plane to New York." She looked at the ceiling. "I didn't have an orgasm. I've never had an orgasm with another person. Not once. I'm thirty-four years old, and I've been faking it since I was twenty."

You unbuttoned your shirt. "You don't have to fake anything tonight."

"I know. That's why you're here." She watched you undress with open appraisal, her eyes tracking the movement of your hands. "I've done my research. I know about the agency. I know about Senior Park. I know about the other women you've been with. The idols. The heiresses. The wives. I know you're discreet. I know you're skilled. I know you're exactly what I need."

"Which is?"

She met your eyes. The smirk was gone. For the first time since you'd walked through the door, her expression was completely serious.

"Someone who isn't afraid of me," she said. "Everyone's afraid of me. My husband's afraid of me. My managers are afraid of me. The directors I work with are afraid of me. I'm Moon Ga Young. I'm the nation's sweetheart. I'm the girl next door who's been in a dozen dramas and never had a scandal." Her voice was flat. "People think I'm delicate. They think I'm fragile. They think I need to be protected. No one's ever looked at me and thought—she wants to be destroyed."

"Do you?"

"Yes." The word was barely a whisper. "God, yes. I want to be destroyed. I want to be ruined. I want someone to look at me and see what I really am, not what the cameras see. Not what my husband sees. Not what the public sees." She swallowed. "I want to feel something real. Even if it's pain. Even if it's rough. Especially if it's rough."

You finished undressing. Your clothes made a pile on the floor—shirt, pants, boxers. Your cock was already half-hard, responding to the challenge in her voice, the directness of her gaze. Ga Young looked at you and didn't flinch.

"Good," she said. "Now come here. I've been waiting two years for this. I'm not waiting any longer."

Moon Ga Young watched you undress with the eyes of a woman who'd spent two decades being looked at and had finally decided to do some looking of her own.

"On your knees."

The command landed in the space between you. Her lips curved—not quite a smile, more a recognition. This was what she'd asked for. This was what she'd been waiting two years to receive.

She slid off the bed. The movement was liquid, all those years of dance training and red carpet practice translating into something that looked effortless. Her knees met the carpet with a soft thud. The city lights through the window painted her bare skin in shades of amber and gold.

"Hands behind your back."

She complied. The position made her small breasts lift, the nipples still pale pink and tight. Her eyes stayed on yours. Defiant. Hungry. The smirk was still there, but it had thinned—become something sharper, more expectant.

You picked up the champagne-colored robe from where it had fallen on the sofa. The silk was cool and slippery in your hands. You pulled the sash free with one sharp tug, and the fabric whispered against itself as it came loose.

"Wrists."

Ga Young's smirk flickered. "You're going to tie me up?"

"I'm going to do a lot of things." You crouched behind her, looping the silk around her wrists. Not too tight—you knew the difference between restraint and injury—but snug enough that she'd feel the pull every time she moved. "You said you wanted to be destroyed. Destruction requires surrender. You can't be in control and be ruined at the same time."

"I know." Her voice was quieter now. The bravado was still there, but something else was bleeding through. Something that sounded almost like relief. "I know. That's the point."

You tied the knot. Tested it with two fingers. "Too tight?"

"No."

"Good."

You stood and walked around to face her. From this angle, with her wrists bound behind her back and her knees pressed into the carpet, she looked smaller than before. More vulnerable. The nation's sweetheart, stripped of her armor, kneeling naked in a hotel suite with her pulse visible in her throat.

"Open your mouth."

Ga Young's lips parted. Her tongue was pink, wet, waiting. You took hold of your cock—fully hard now, thick and veined, the head already slick with the first bead of precum—and guided it toward her waiting mouth.

"Wider."

She stretched her jaw. The corners of her lips went taut. You pressed the head against her tongue, and she made a sound—something between a hum and a whimper—as the taste of you filled her mouth.

"Good girl. Now take it. All of it."

You pushed forward.

The first few inches slid in easily. Her tongue moved beneath your shaft—uncertain at first, then finding its rhythm, tracing the ridge of the head, the sensitive spot just beneath. Her cheeks hollowed as she sucked. The suction was strong, practiced, the muscle memory of a woman who'd done this before even if it had been years.

Then you pushed deeper.

The head of your cock hit the back of her throat, and Ga Young gagged. The sound was wet and sudden—a choked, spluttering cough that made her whole body convulse. Her bound wrists strained against the silk. Her eyes watered. A thick string of saliva dripped from the corner of her mouth and landed on her chest.

"Don't fight it. Relax your throat."

She tried. You could feel her trying—the way her muscles fluttered around your shaft, the way she forced herself to breathe through her nose. But the gag reflex was strong, and when you pushed another inch deeper, she convulsed again.

"Fuck—" The word came out muffled, garbled around your cock.

You pulled back. Let her gasp. A bridge of saliva connected your shaft to her bottom lip, stretching, then breaking.

"I can't—" She coughed again. "I can't take it all. It's too thick—"

"You can." You grabbed a handful of her hair and pulled her head back. Her throat was exposed now—a long, pale column, the skin delicate and unmarked. "You said you wanted to be ruined. Ruined means taking cock down your throat until you can't breathe. Ruined means gagging and choking and still pushing deeper. Do you understand?"

Ga Young's eyes met yours. They were wet now, the first tears clinging to her lashes. But behind them, something was blazing. Something that looked almost like joy.

"Yes."

"Then open your mouth."

She did. You pushed inside again, and this time you didn't stop. Your cock slid past her tongue, past the soft palate, into the tight grip of her throat. Ga Young's whole body seized. A guttural, choking sound vibrated through your shaft. Her bound hands clawed at the air behind her back. Her throat muscles clamped down around you—spasming, fighting, then slowly, gradually, yielding.

"There you go. Take it. Take all of it."

Your hips met her face. Your cock was buried to the hilt in her throat, and Ga Young's nose was pressed against your pubic bone. She couldn't breathe. Couldn't speak. Could only gag and choke and let the tears stream down her cheeks while you held her there, impaled on your length.

You held the position for a count of five. Then ten. Her face was turning red. Her body was writhing—not fighting, not trying to escape, but writhing with the sheer overwhelming sensation of being so completely filled.

You pulled back.

Ga Young gasped. The inhale was ragged and desperate, followed by a coughing fit that made her whole body shake. Saliva dripped from her chin. Her eyes were red-rimmed, her cheeks blotchy, her carefully arranged hair a tangled mess.

"More," she rasped. "Give me more."

You slapped her.

The crack of your palm against her cheek echoed through the suite. Ga Young's head snapped to the side. A red mark bloomed on her pale skin—the shape of your hand, stark and undeniable.

"Did I tell you to speak?"

She shook her head. The defiance was still there, but it was muted now—submerged beneath something deeper. Something that looked almost like peace.

"Then don't speak. Your mouth has one purpose right now. Do you understand?"

She nodded. Her cheek was still red. The tears had multiplied, tracking mascara-less lines down her face.

"Good. Now show me you understand."

She opened her mouth. Leaned forward. Took your cock between her lips with a hunger that bordered on worship. This time, when you pushed into her throat, she didn't gag. She swallowed around you—a deliberate, rhythmic clenching that traveled from her throat to the base of your shaft. The sensation was electric. Your vision swam.

"That's it. That's my good little throat-whore."

She moaned. The vibration traveled through her throat and into your cock, and the pleasure was so intense that your hips bucked involuntarily. You grabbed her head with both hands—fingers tangled in her hair, thumbs pressed against her temples—and began to fuck her face in earnest.

The rhythm was brutal. Deep, driving strokes that bottomed out against the back of her throat with every thrust. The wet sounds were obscene—squelching, choking, gagging, the slap of your balls against her chin. Ga Young's bound hands clenched and unclenched behind her back. Her body swayed with the force of your thrusts. Her eyes were squeezed shut, tears streaming freely, but she never pulled away. Never tapped out. Never gave any signal that she wanted this to stop.

"You love this. You love being used like a toy. Tell me you love it."

She couldn't speak—not with your cock buried in her throat—but she moaned again. The sound was desperate. Affirmative. Broken.

"Then take it. Take every inch. I'm going to come down your throat, and you're going to swallow every drop. Do you understand?"

Another moan. Higher-pitched. Almost frantic.

You fucked her throat faster. The tension was building—a coiling pressure at the base of your spine that spread outward, downward, gathering force with every stroke. Ga Young's throat muscles were fluttering around you now, spasming in rhythm with her muffled moans. Her body was trembling. Her bound hands had gone limp behind her back, all the fight drained out of her.

"I'm close—fuck, I'm close—"

You slammed into her throat one last time and held there. Buried to the hilt. Her nose crushed against your pelvis. Her throat working desperately around your shaft, trying to swallow, trying to breathe, trying to do everything at once.

The orgasm hit you like a freight train.

The first pulse of cum shot directly down her throat—thick, hot, copious. You felt her swallow reflexively, the muscles of her esophagus contracting around your shaft. The second pulse followed immediately, and the third, and the fourth, each one painting her throat white with your seed. You kept your grip on her head, holding her in place, making sure she couldn't pull away until every last drop was drained.

"Swallow. All of it."

She did. You felt her throat constrict again and again, gulping down your cum with an eagerness that bordered on desperation. When you finally pulled back, a thick string of saliva and semen connected your cock to her bottom lip. Ga Young's mouth hung open. Her tongue was coated white. Her eyes were glassy and unfocused, staring at something only she could see.

She swallowed once more. Licked her lips. The taste of you was still on her tongue, and she savored it—closing her eyes, letting out a small, satisfied hum.

"Thank you," she whispered.

The words were hoarse. Fucked-raw. Barely audible. But the gratitude in them was real.

"We're not done."

Ga Young's eyes opened. The smirk was back—smaller now, more fragile, but still there. "I know."

You untied her wrists. The silk sash left faint red marks on her skin—nothing that would bruise, nothing that would last, but enough to remind her tomorrow of what had happened tonight. She rubbed her wrists absently. Then she looked up at you, and the question in her eyes was clear: What now?

"Against the wall."

She rose. Her legs were unsteady—the long minutes of kneeling had left her knees red, her thighs trembling. She crossed to the floor-to-ceiling window and pressed her palms against the glass. The city lights glittered below, indifferent to the scene unfolding above them. Her reflection stared back at her—naked, disheveled, marked.

"Spread your legs."

She did. The position opened her completely—the long line of her spine, the curve of her ass, the dark cleft between her cheeks. Her cunt was visible from this angle, the lips swollen and glistening. She was wet. Had been wet since the moment you'd pushed into her throat, probably. Maybe since the moment you'd walked through the door.

You stepped behind her. Your left hand found her throat—not squeezing, not yet, just resting there, a reminder of who was in control. Your right hand slid down her back, over the curve of her ass, between her cheeks. You spread her open, exposing the tight pink knot of her asshole, the darker, wetter flesh of her cunt below.

"Look at you. Moon Ga Young. The nation's sweetheart. Bent over against a hotel window with her cunt dripping and her throat full of cum. What would your fans think?"

"I don't care." Her voice was raw, almost defiant. "I don't care what they think. I don't care what anyone thinks. Just fuck me. Please. Fuck me like you mean it."

You tightened your grip on her throat. Not enough to cut off air—just enough to make her feel the pressure. Just enough to remind her that you could.

"Beg."

"Please." The word came out strangled. "Please fuck me. I've been waiting two years. Two years of empty beds and empty phone calls and pretending I'm fine when I'm dying inside. Please. I need this. I need you. I need your cock inside me. I need to feel something real. Please—"

You thrust into her cunt in one brutal motion.

Ga Young screamed.

The sound was raw and animal—nothing like the polished, controlled voice she used in interviews. This was a scream torn from somewhere deep inside her, a scream that had been building for two years and finally found its release. Her cunt was tight—tighter than you'd expected, the walls clenching around your shaft with a force that made your breath catch. She was soaked, though, and the slick heat of her made the brutal entry possible.

"Oh fuck—oh fuck—you're so deep—"

You didn't give her time to adjust. You pulled back and slammed forward again, harder than before. The impact made her palms squeak against the glass. Her breasts pressed against the window, leaving smears of sweat on the pristine surface. Your left hand stayed on her throat, your right hand gripping her hip, and you fucked her with a rhythm that was punishing.

"This is what you wanted. This is what you begged for. To be fucked like an animal. To be used like a toy. To be ruined."

"Yes—yes—harder—"

You gave her harder. The wet sounds of her cunt filled the suite—squelching, slapping, the rhythmic thud of your hips meeting her ass. You could see her reflection in the window—her mouth open, her eyes half-closed, her cheeks flushed and tear-streaked. The idol image was gone. Completely obliterated. What was left was just a woman, raw and desperate, taking cock like she'd been starving for it.

You tightened your grip on her throat. Squeezed. Not enough to cut off her air entirely, but enough to make her lightheaded. Enough to make the edges of her vision go dark. Ga Young's eyes rolled back. Her mouth opened wider. A strangled sound escaped her—half moan, half gasp.

"That's it. Feel that? Feel how deep I am? Feel how full you are? This is what you needed. Not the fame. Not the money. Not the perfect husband who never touches you. This. Just this. Just a cock in your cunt and someone who knows how to use it."

"YES—YES—THIS IS—"

You released her throat. She gasped—a huge, ragged inhale that made her whole body shudder. Then you grabbed her hips with both hands and fucked her even harder. The pace was brutal now—piston-like, relentless, each thrust driving her against the window with a force that made the glass vibrate. Her ass rippled with every impact. Her breasts bounced. Her reflection stared back at her with wild eyes and a slack mouth, and she looked at herself like she didn't recognize what she was seeing.

"Look at yourself. Look at what you've become. You're not an actress right now. You're not a wife. You're just a wet hole. A set of holes. A body that exists to be fucked. Do you see her?"

"I see her—" Ga Young's voice was broken, sobbing. "I see her—I see myself—"

"And what do you see?"

"A whore." The word came out on a sob. "A desperate, dripping whore who's been neglected for two years and finally has a cock inside her. I see a whore. I see a whore. I see—"

You felt her cunt seize around you. The orgasm was sudden and violent—a convulsive, full-body spasm that made her back arch and her legs give out. You caught her before she collapsed, pinning her against the window with your body, and kept fucking her through it. The clenching of her walls was rhythmic, almost painful in its intensity, milking your shaft from base to tip.

"That's it—that's it—come on my cock—come while you're watching yourself—"

"I'm coming—I'm coming—oh god, I'm—"

She squirted. The fluid gushed around your cock, soaking your thighs, splashing against the window, dripping down the glass in long, obscene rivulets. Ga Young's scream was wordless, primal, a sound that seemed to come from somewhere deeper than her throat. Her body convulsed in your arms. Her cunt pulsed and fluttered around your shaft, and the sensation was so intense that you felt your own orgasm building—a tightening pressure at the base of your spine.

But you weren't done.

You pulled out of her. Ga Young whimpered at the emptiness. Her cunt gaped for a moment, then clenched around nothing, gushing another pulse of fluid onto the carpet. You turned her around—roughly, hands on her shoulders, spinning her like a doll—and pushed her back against the window. Her shoulder blades hit the glass. Her eyes were wild, unfocused, still hazy from the orgasm.

"Hold onto me."

Her arms wrapped around your neck. Her legs wrapped around your waist. You gripped her thighs and lifted her, positioning her cunt above your cock, and thrust inside her in one smooth motion.

Ga Young's head fell back against the glass. "Oh ffffuuuuck—"

"You wanted to be ruined. I'm not finished ruining you."

You fucked her against the window. The position was different—deeper, somehow, the angle letting you hit spots inside her that you hadn't reached before. Ga Young's moans were continuous now, a stream of broken syllables and guttural sounds that didn't belong to any language. Her nails dug into your shoulders. Her heels pressed into the small of your back. Her cunt was a mess—slick and swollen and pulsing, still gushing intermittently with the aftershocks of her orgasm.

"Harder—please—harder—"

You slammed into her. The window rattled. Somewhere in the back of your mind, you registered that there were probably people in the building across the street, people with binoculars, people who might be watching. Let them watch. Let them see what Moon Ga Young looked like when she was being fucked properly. Let them see the nation's sweetheart with her legs wrapped around a stranger, her cunt dripping down his thighs, her mouth open in a scream that had no end.

"Look at me."

She forced her eyes to focus. They were glassy, tear-filled, but they met yours.

"You're going to come again. You're going to come on this cock while I'm choking you. And you're going to watch yourself in the reflection while you do it. Do you understand?"

"Yes—yes—"

Your left hand found her throat again. Squeezed. Harder this time. Ga Young's face began to flush. Her lips parted. Her eyes rolled back. But she didn't tap out. Didn't signal. Didn't do anything except moan—a thin, wheezing sound that vibrated against your palm.

"That's it. Let go. Let yourself fall."

You fucked her harder. The rhythm was punishing—deep, driving strokes that bottomed out against her cervix with every thrust. Your right hand found her clit, the swollen bundle of nerves slick and hard under your fingertip. You pressed down. Circled. Ga Young's body convulsed.

Her orgasm hit like an explosion.

This one was different from the first—quieter, deeper, more devastating. Her cunt clamped down on your cock with a force that almost hurt. Her whole body went rigid, every muscle locked, every breath held. Then the release came, and it came with a flood. Her cunt gushed around your shaft—not just wetness this time, but a clear, copious fluid that sprayed against your thighs and soaked the carpet beneath you.

"Fuuuuuuuck—"

Her voice broke on the word. Her body went limp. Completely limp. She collapsed against you, her head falling onto your shoulder, her arms sliding from your neck. Her cunt was still pulsing weakly around your cock—little flutters of sensation that traveled up your shaft.

You released her throat. She gasped—a huge, ragged inhale—and then she started to laugh.

It wasn't a happy laugh. It wasn't bitter, either. It was the laugh of a woman who'd been holding something inside for years and had finally, finally let it out. The laugh turned into sobs, and the sobs turned into silence, and through all of it you held her against the window, your cock still buried inside her, your hands gentle on her back.

"Thank you," she whispered again. "Thank you. Thank you. Thank you."

She kept saying it. Over and over. Like a prayer. Like a confession. Like the only words she had left.

You carried her to the bed. Laid her down on the white sheets. Her body was marked—red impressions of your fingers on her throat, faint bruises already forming on her hips, her cunt swollen and gaping and still leaking onto the mattress. She looked up at you with eyes that were clearer than they'd been all night.

"Stay," she said. "Please. Just until I fall asleep."

You climbed into the bed beside her. Pulled the sheets over both of you. Ga Young curled against your chest, her face pressed into the hollow of your throat, her breath warm on your skin.

"I haven't felt this alive in years," she murmured. "I haven't felt anything in years."

"Feel it now."

She did. Her breathing slowed. Her body relaxed. The tension that had been coiled in her muscles since the moment you'd walked through the door finally, fully released.

Outside the window, the city glittered on, indifferent and eternal. Inside the suite, Moon Ga Young closed her eyes, and for the first time in two years, she slept without dreaming of being somewhere else.

The morning light through the Signiel's floor-to-ceiling windows was the color of honey. It pooled on the white sheets, caught the edge of the champagne flute still sitting on the coffee table, painted Ga Young's bare shoulder in shades of gold.

She was still asleep.

Her breathing was slow and even, her face half-buried in the pillow, her dark hair fanned across the cotton like spilled ink. The marks from last night were already fading—the faint impressions on her throat, the bruises on her hips. In sleep, she looked younger. Softer. The sharp, sardonic edge that had defined her when you'd walked through the door had melted away, replaced by something unguarded.

You slid out of bed carefully. The sheets whispered against your skin. Ga Young stirred but didn't wake—just shifted, her hand reaching out to the empty space where you'd been, her fingers curling around nothing.

You dressed in silence. Shirt. Pants. Belt. The routine was automatic, muscle memory from a dozen similar mornings. The suite was quiet except for the distant hum of the HVAC system and the soft shush of traffic eighty floors below. Your shoes were by the sofa where you'd kicked them off. You bent to pick them up.

"Where are you going?"

The voice was sleep-roughened but still unmistakably hers—that smoky, noir-film cadence that made everything sound like a secret. You turned.

Ga Young was sitting up in bed. The sheet had fallen to her waist. Her hair was a tangled mess, her eyes still puffy from sleep and last night's tears. She looked nothing like the polished actress from the dramas. She looked like a woman who'd been thoroughly fucked and had slept better than she had in years.

"Home," you said. "You were asleep. I didn't want to wake you."

She laughed. The sound was low and warm and entirely unselfconscious. "Nuh uh." She swung her legs over the side of the bed and stood, crossing the room toward you with the sheet still trailing behind her like a train. "I'm still your client. The weekend, remember? You're not going anywhere."

She reached you and wrapped her arms around your waist from behind. Her cheek pressed against your spine. Her bare breasts flattened against your back, and the warmth of her body seeped through your shirt. She smelled like sex and sleep and the faint floral remnants of whatever expensive soap the Signiel stocked in its bathrooms.

"Ga Young—"

"Shh." Her arms tightened. "You're not leaving. Not yet. Not until I say so."

The suite door clicked open.

You heard it before you saw it—the soft sound of the electronic lock disengaging, followed by the whoosh of the door swinging on its hinges. Two voices drifted in from the hallway, mid-laugh, the kind of easy, familiar laughter that came from years of friendship.

"—and then he said, 'That's not a prop, that's my actual—'" The voice cut off.

Karina stood in the doorway.

Wonyoung was right behind her.

They were both carrying shopping bags—the discreet, expensive kind that came from boutiques in Cheongdam-dong, the logos embossed in subtle gold foil. They were both wearing black outerwear—Karina in a long trench coat, Wonyoung in a cropped leather jacket—and they were both staring at you with expressions that shifted from surprise to recognition to something else entirely.

Something hungrier.

"Unnie!" Ga Young's voice was delighted. She released you and stepped around, completely unbothered by her nudity, the sheet slipping from her shoulders and pooling on the floor. "You're early. I thought you weren't coming until noon."

Karina's eyes flicked from you to Ga Young and back again. A slow smile spread across her face. "We wanted to surprise you." She stepped into the suite, and Wonyoung followed, closing the door behind her. "But it looks like you're the one with the surprise."

"Wait." You looked at Ga Young. Then at Karina. Then at Wonyoung. "You three know each other?"

"We're best friends." Wonyoung's voice was light, almost teasing. She set her shopping bag down on the console table by the door. "We've been best friends for years. Since trainee days. Did you really think it was a coincidence that we all ended up calling the same agency?"

"We talk," Karina said. She was still smiling, but there was something sharper beneath it—a blade hidden in silk. "We talk about everything. The husbands. The loneliness. The emptiness." She paused. "The men we hire to make us feel alive again."

Ga Young had retrieved her robe from the floor—the champagne-colored silk, still wrinkled from last night—and was tying it loosely around her waist. "When I heard that Karina unnie had found someone who actually made her come, I had to see for myself. And then Wonyoungie called me the next morning, practically glowing, and I knew." She turned to you, her eyes bright. "I knew I had to book you. And I knew I had to make it a weekend."

"A weekend?"

"Senior Park didn't tell you?" Karina's trench coat was already unbelted. She shrugged it off her shoulders, and it slid to the floor in a whisper of black fabric. Beneath it, she was wearing lingerie—not the practical black lace from your first encounter, but something deliberately chosen. A deep burgundy set, the color of aged wine, the bra cupping her breasts in a way that made them look fuller, the panties high-cut and sheer. "This booking is for all three of us. The whole weekend. Friday to Sunday."

Wonyoung was unzipping her leather jacket. Her movements were slower than Karina's, more deliberate, but no less confident. The jacket came off, and beneath it was a pale lavender set—the color soft against her skin, the fabric delicate, almost bridal. The contrast between the innocent lingerie and the knowing look in her eyes was intentional. You could see it in the way she tilted her head, the way she watched you watching her.

"Three clients," she said. "Three women who need to be reminded what it feels like to be touched." She stepped closer. "Three women who've been talking about you for weeks."

On the coffee table, you noticed for the first time a folded piece of paper. It was propped against the champagne bottle, your name written on the front in Senior Park's precise, old-fashioned handwriting. You crossed to it and picked it up.

Your client for this weekend is the three of them. They've been planning this for a month. Don't disappoint them. — SP

You swallowed.

The sound was audible in the quiet suite. Ga Young heard it and laughed—that same low, warm laugh from before. "Nervous? The man who made me come twice against a window is nervous?"

"Not nervous." You folded the note and tucked it into your pocket. "Just… recalibrating."

"Recalibrate faster." Karina had crossed the room to stand beside Ga Young. The two of them together were a study in contrasts—Karina's burgundy against Ga Young's champagne, the idol's sharp, aggressive beauty against the actress's delicate, knowing allure. "We've been waiting a long time for this. All three of us. We've been planning it ever since Wonyoungie called me the morning after your session."

"I didn't just call her." Wonyoung had moved to your other side, bracketing you between the three of them. Her lavender lingerie made her skin look luminous, the pale tea-colored nipples visible through the sheer fabric. "I told her everything. Everything you did. Everything you said. Every way you made me feel." Her voice dropped, became something softer, more intimate. "And she told me what you did with her. And then Ga Young unnie said she wanted to find out for herself, and we decided—why not all three of us? Why not a weekend?"

"Because none of us has ever had this." Ga Young's hand found your shoulder. Her fingers traced the line of your collarbone through your shirt. "None of us has ever had a man who knew what he was doing. Who cared about making us feel good. Who looked at us like we were women instead of objects." She paused. "We wanted to share you. Just for a weekend. Just to remember what it feels like."

"To be alive," Karina said.

"To be wanted," Wonyoung added.

"To be fucked properly," Ga Young finished.

The three of them were close now. Close enough that you could smell them—Karina's perfume, something floral and expensive; Wonyoung's shampoo, jasmine and vanilla; Ga Young's skin, still warm from sleep, still carrying the faint musk of last night's sex. They were looking at you with the same expression. The same hunger. The same desperate, aching need that you'd seen in each of them individually but never all at once.

"Take off your shirt," Karina said.

The command was soft but firm. The same voice she'd used when she'd first welcomed you to her mansion, but stripped of the nervousness now. This was a woman who'd spent three weeks waiting for this moment. This was a woman who knew exactly what she wanted.

You unbuttoned your shirt. Slowly. Deliberately. The three of them watched every movement—the slide of each button through its hole, the parting of the fabric, the reveal of your chest. When you shrugged the shirt off your shoulders, Wonyoung made a small sound—a quiet, involuntary hum of appreciation.

"His body is different in the daylight," she murmured. "I couldn't see it properly last time. It was dark. I was…" She swallowed. "I was distracted."

"You were crying," Ga Young said. Not unkindly. Just matter-of-fact. "You told me you cried."

"I did. I cried a lot." Wonyoung's eyes met yours. "But I also came. Twice. The first real orgasms of my life."

"Mine too." Karina's voice was quieter now. "The first real ones. The only real ones."

Ga Young's hand slid from your shoulder to your chest. Her palm was warm against your skin. "And I came twice last night. The first time I've ever come with a partner. The first time I've ever come without faking it." Her fingers traced the line of your pectoral, down to your abdomen. "So you see, we have a lot to thank you for. And a lot more we want to experience."

"Together," Karina said.

"Together," Wonyoung echoed.

The word hung in the air between you. Together. Three women who'd spent years being neglected, being ignored, being treated like accessories to their husbands' careers. Three women who'd found each other in the loneliness and decided to do something about it. Three women who were looking at you now with the same expression—expectant, hungry, alive.

"Are you going to be able to handle all three of us?" Ga Young's voice was teasing, but there was a genuine question beneath the playfulness. "We're not going to be gentle with you. We've been planning this for a month. We have… ideas."

"Three days," Karina said. "Three women. One man." She stepped closer, close enough that her breasts—still encased in that burgundy lace—brushed against your arm. "Think you can keep up?"

"Senior Park seemed to think so." You looked at the note still folded in your pocket. "He wouldn't have booked me if he didn't."

"Senior Park is a smart man." Wonyoung had moved behind you. Her hands found your shoulders, her fingers pressing into the muscle, kneading gently. "He told us you were the best. He told us you could handle anything. He told us you wouldn't break."

"I won't break."

"Good." Ga Young's hand was still on your chest, her thumb tracing idle circles over your sternum. "Because we're not going to break you. We're going to use you. All three of us. However we want. Whenever we want. For the whole weekend." She looked up at you, and her eyes were dark and serious despite the smile playing at the corner of her lips. "Is that understood?"

"Understood."

"Good boy." She patted your chest and stepped back. "Then let's get started. The bedroom's big enough for all four of us. I checked."

She turned and walked toward the bedroom, the champagne robe trailing behind her like a whisper. Karina followed, her hips swaying with that dancer's grace she'd never lost despite years away from the stage. Wonyoung released your shoulders and moved around you, her lavender lingerie pale against the gray walls of the suite, and when she reached the bedroom doorway, she looked back over her shoulder.

"Are you coming?"

The question was simple. The answer was simpler.

You followed them into the bedroom.

The bed was still rumpled from the night before—the sheets twisted, the pillows scattered, the faint impressions of Ga Young's body still visible on the mattress. The morning light was stronger here, flooding through the windows, making everything look clean and bright and new. The three women arranged themselves on the bed with the ease of long practice—Ga Young in the center, propped against the headboard; Karina on her left, sitting cross-legged with her burgundy lingerie stark against the white sheets; Wonyoung on her right, her long legs stretched out in front of her, her lavender set a soft contrast to the sharper colors around her.

They looked at you. Waiting.

"Clothes off," Ga Young said. "All of them. We want to see what we're working with."

You unbuckled your belt. The sound was loud in the quiet room. Three pairs of eyes tracked the movement of your hands—the slide of leather through the buckle, the pop of the button, the hiss of the zipper. Your pants fell to the floor. Your boxers followed.

Your cock was already half-hard. Responding to the attention, the anticipation, the sheer overwhelming presence of three beautiful women watching you undress. Ga Young's eyes flicked down, then up again. The corner of her mouth twitched.

"He's bigger than I remembered," Karina murmured.

"He's thicker than I remembered," Wonyoung added.

"And he knows how to use it." Ga Young's voice was satisfied. "He used it in my throat last night. And in my cunt. And against the window." She gestured at the glass, still faintly smeared from where her body had pressed against it. "I left a mark."

"So did I." Wonyoung's voice was soft, almost wistful. "At my penthouse. On the sheets. I haven't washed them yet. I keep thinking I should, but I can't bring myself to do it."

"I know what you mean." Karina's eyes met yours. "I still have the sheets from my first time with him. They're in the back of my closet. Joon-ho never goes in there. He never goes anywhere in that house except his study and his bedroom." She paused. "He has his own bedroom. We've always had separate bedrooms. He said it was better for his sleep."

"Seok-joong has his own apartment." Wonyoung's voice was flat. "He lives there with his current girlfriend. A trainee. She's nineteen."

"My husband has his own continent." Ga Young's laugh was bitter. "He's been to Seoul for six weeks in two years. Six weeks. He's probably slept with half of Manhattan in that time."

The three of them were quiet for a moment. The morning light poured through the windows, and the city glittered below, and the three women on the bed were looking at each other with an expression that was part grief and part fury and part something else—something that looked almost like hope.

Then Ga Young shook her head. "No. No more talking about husbands. That's not what this weekend is for." She looked at you, and the fire was back in her eyes. "This weekend is for us. For pleasure. For release. For everything we've been denied." She patted the mattress beside her. "Come here. It's time to earn your paycheck."

You climbed onto the bed.

The mattress dipped beneath your weight. The three women shifted to accommodate you—Ga Young making room in the center, Karina and Wonyoung flanking her on either side. You ended up face-to-face with Ga Young, close enough to see the faint lines around her eyes, the small scar on her chin from some childhood accident, the way her pupils were already dilating with anticipation.

"Kiss me," she said. "Kiss me, and then kiss them. We've been waiting. We've all been waiting."

You kissed her.

It was different from last night's kisses. Last night had been about dominance—the rough press of lips, the battle for control, the assertion of power. This kiss was slower. More deliberate. A kiss of greeting rather than conquest. Ga Young's lips parted beneath yours, and her tongue met yours with a soft, exploratory touch. She tasted like sleep and champagne and something indefinably her.

When you pulled back, she was smiling. "Now Karina."

You turned. Karina was watching you with dark eyes, her burgundy lingerie stretched tight across her breasts, her breathing already uneven. She didn't wait for you to lean in. She closed the distance herself, her hands coming up to frame your face, her kiss hungry and urgent and full of three weeks of waiting.

"It's been too long," she whispered against your mouth. "Three weeks. Three weeks of thinking about you. Three weeks of touching myself and pretending it was your hands."

"And now?"

"Now I don't have to pretend." She kissed you again—quick and fierce—then pulled back. "Wonyoung's turn."

Wonyoung was the shyest of the three. She'd been hesitant last night, tentative in the penthouse, uncertain about what she was allowed to do. But now she leaned in with more confidence, her lips brushing yours with a gentleness that was almost teasing. Her hand found your chest, her palm flat against your sternum, feeling your heartbeat.

"I've been thinking about you too," she murmured. "Every night. Every morning. I've been thinking about what you did to me. What you made me feel." She kissed you again—longer this time, deeper. "I want to feel it again. All of it. Everything."

"You will."

"Promise?"

"Promise."

She smiled. The expression transformed her face—made her look younger, lighter, more like the idol she'd been before the marriage and the neglect and the loneliness. "Good. Then let's get started. Ga Young unnie's been waiting the longest. She should get the first turn."

"Agreed." Karina was already shifting on the bed, repositioning herself to give Ga Young more room. "We've got three days. We can take our time."

That’s the only explanation for you meeting Chaewon at a party, because otherwise, it would be at risk of being labeled as fate—and boy, are those dangerous waters to explore.

And now, she’s ruffling her hair like nothing happened, having just taken a shot of something strong enough to get her ears red. You don’t know which; the party’s buzzing with probably each type of vice, liquor, and sin. You don’t usually attend parties for that reason. You don’t need a bad influence in your life when it’s so easy to get hooked onto the wrong thing.

Yet when your eyes find hers in this pool of bodies, you realize you’re just relapsing into an old dirty habit.

It’s written all over her easy smile, the way the fringe falls over her forehead. Chaewon turns up her chin and says, “Why don’t I know you?”

The audacity of this girl, really. Her voice is saccharine sweet. Her words sound like the lyrics to a siren’s song. You’re already six feet deep into the waters and she’s holding you down.

Yunjin rolls her eyes. She’s your best friend, but she’s also Chaewon’s best friend, which means she knows exactly how this is going to play out. It’s an old story. Chaewon does that seductress act, preying onto some poor guy, and the next thing she knows, they’re making out in the master bedroom.

 “Oh my god, don’t tell me you’re already flirting with him.”

“I’m not flirting with him,” says Chaewon, but she’s not even looking at Yunjin, her hand already ending up on your forearm. “What do you take me for, Jennifer? A slut?”

Yunjin thoughtfully places her fingertip on her chin. “Well—”

Chaewon bursts into laughter and tells her to shut up. God, even her smile is gorgeous. She’s a goddess up close—not a pore or a blemish anywhere on that flawless skin. Her scent is faint and sweet, some fragrance you can’t buy for four digits anywhere. You hate that you notice it. It just makes you think how far behind you are to Chaewon. Girls like her don’t look at guys like you.

Hanni catches Yunjin’s attention, dressed in a heart-shaped little top and fairy boots, looking like a butterfly. She squeals when she sees Yunjin, and their reunion leaves you and Chaewon to yourselves. The tension between you grows thicker. It’s impossible to breathe.

“Don’t listen to her. She’s just jealous I get to have you.” She tilts her pretty head and squints thoughtfully. “What was your name again?”

You can’t believe she’s talking to you, out of everyone in this house party. But you tell her your name anyway, and you can already tell it’s something her mouth will keep to memory. She’s circling you like you’re prey.

Don’t you want to fight back? Don’t you want to puff out your chest and say you know exactly how girls like her work? You’re just standing there, trapped by that golden voice and deadly silhouette. You’re not even pretending you want her to fuck off.

“It’s a nice party,” continues Chaewon. “Kazuha did her big one with it. Invited all the rich guys, the buff ones, the hot ones…” She pauses her stroking on your flesh to finally look you in the eye. “Tell me, are you any of those? Because if not, I’m packing my stuff.”

“I—I’m sort of—”

The serious look is immediately shattered from her face with a gorgeous laugh. “I’m just messing with you,” Chaewon assures you. It’s a cruel thing to joke about but she’s so pretty that forgiveness is instant. “I’m here to take my mind off things like you are. I’m not trying to do anything.”

But you should know by now that Kim Chaewon is a liar. From the very first second, she lied to Yunjin, lied to you about just messing with you. Her hand brushes yours as she reaches for a drink. Then it’s on your arm. Then it’s under your chin as she talks her way into a bedroom.

You don’t stop her. 

The yellow lamplight casts shadows over Chaewon, contouring her figure into a tiny silhouette on the wall. That tiny dress that reveals her back looks better in the dark. All you’re thinking is that this only ends one way, and how it shouldn’t because she’s trouble and you’ve already got problems without Kim Chaewon on your mind. What more are you looking to add?

She’s talking about her friends as she sits on the bed. And she’s got a lot of them—Yunjin, the girl she’s forever linked with; Kazuha, the biggest party girl with somehow the most innocent face, and; Sakura, who’s pretty much an introvert. She likes to stay home and crochet. It’s more fun that way, she had argued, and Chaewon rolled her eyes. This time though, she agreed to wait down in the lobby just in case anybody needed a designated driver. 

“But if you ask me,” she says (you didn’t), “Eunchae dresses best among all of us. I think it’s the sort of Gen Z fashion the older girls can’t master. Knows how to do her makeup, don’t you think?”

You realize here that Chaewon is kind of full of herself, only masking it behind asking your opinions then building another story about herself from that. Every word is a plot device leading to her, the main character. It’s something you find in too many people. They think that everyone and everything orbits around them.

It’s actually a pet peeve of yours but you have to give it to her: Kim Chaewon has every right to be narcissistic. Pretty face, great body, a great bank account to back her vices. She’s the girl every guy wants and every girl wants to be. It’s probably a statement made about girls less attractive and magnetic than her, but you know at the end of the day, it’s a title that only becomes true when given to her. She’s a carnal desire, something you cry about when you confess it to a priest.

“I guess I wasn’t really looking at her,” you admit. 

“Oh?” Chaewon sets her drink down. Her voice drops even lower. “Who were you looking at then?”

It’s a trap. It’s a fucking trap. But before you could tell her you’re leaving, Chaewon’s already kissing you. 

She tastes like vodka and sin and everything you shouldn’t be indulging in. But you do anyway.

She gets on her knees like she’s done it plenty of times for you. You get an idea of how an angel would react when they get a taste of sin when she cums around your cock. Her eyes  shut, her body curls around you like it’s the only thing in the world she can hold onto. She looks fucking perfect.

Girls like Chaewon give you heaven for a night then leave you forever. They leave you wanting more but never give it to you even if you get on your knees and pray.

But Chaewon obviously likes something about you. And come on—she’s no fucking angel anyway. You both can go to hell.

-

You have a place of your own, but most of your time nowadays is spent in Chaewon’s luxurious Gangnam apartment. You raise this concern to her as she does her makeup in the living room mirror. The lipgloss makes her lips look plusher, the mascara enlarging those pretty eyes. You raised concern over her vanity as well, but she dismissed it. You love it when I look pretty for you anyway.

(And you hated to say that she’s right. You love when she puts on lipstick that ends up all over your neck. You love when she wears the sexiest dresses of all so you can take them off. So you zipped your mouth shut and waited another hour for her to doll up.)

“Friends share, don’t they?” she replies. Her ass looks great in those cycling shorts. She said she’s going to the gym, but if she sticks her ass out at you one more time, she’d have to delay. 

You laugh. “Even friends with benefits?”

“It’s in the name, baby. Friends with benefits. Your benefit is staying in this chic place with me, while my benefit is that cock of yours.”

At least she’s clear with the fact that she’s using you. Sure, she likes that you’re easy to talk to and that there are no strings attached. But the feeling of your cock in her is too good to let pass.

And right now, Chaewon’s eyeing you like she’s up to no good.

You know that look. “Now?”

“What, you think I’m just horny 24/7?”

Chaewon walks and talks like she’s willing to go against each word. Those toned, perfect legs stride over to you. Her voice is sultry enough to stir a heat inside of you that, ironically, only she can put out.

She adds fuel to the fire by sliding onto your lap, her favorite seat. The curve of her cheeks perfectly aim at your bulge. You groan as Chaewon starts to circle her hips around you, all while she looks back at you with a bite of her lip.

You close your hands around her waist. “Thought you were driving to the gym?” 

“I could do a different type of exercise here instead.” 

“The membership is like, a fortune per month, Chae.”

You’re struggling to get your words out already. Damn those stupid shorts. Chaewon’s practically humping you. The feel of fabric upon fabric and her plump flesh pressed against yours is dizzying. 

“Doesn’t matter,” Chaewon says. Her breaths shorten but she doesn’t stop moving. The sports bra cups her tits that bounce with each rotation. “I can think of certain ways to pay it back.”

“And what could that be?”

She’s already giving you a hint with the hypnotizing sway of her hips. 

The graze of your clothed cock against her clit makes Chaewon gasp. You haven’t even gotten inside her, nor have you taken off that bra that pushes up her bouncy chest. But the feel of her gyrating against you, knowing exactly how you like it, is enough to make you go over the edge.

Not yet.

Chaewon rises from your lap. You almost groan if not for the show she’s offering you this time. She makes a show of stretching upwards, drawing your eyes to her tight midriff, before turning her back to you. Her fingers hook around the hugging material of her shorts to hike them slowly down her thighs. That bubble butt almost pops out of the fabric.

Only a thong. No wonder the wetness soaked through. 

She bends over a little as she shakes her cute little ass to you. You can see how wet she is, arousal sticking to the tiny thong snug between her cheeks. You quickly remove your pants as well because you know how this goes with Chaewon. She’s fucking insatiable. She never takes no for an answer.

And you never give no as an answer either. You’re a match made in hell.

“I was thinking…” Her knees dent the sofa beside your hips. With her palms on your chest, she works your cock, grinding her swollen clit on the head. Both of you gasp. 

“That’s new.”

“God, shut up.” Chaewon’s whimpering now. “Y-you know how we fuck like animals, right?”

She sinks onto the first few inches, her walls pulsing and fluttering around you. You let out a deep sigh. The sight of your cock disappearing into Chaewon’s tight little pussy never gets old. 

She warms your member for a few delicious seconds, her walls pulsating around you. Chaewon bites her lip and throws her head back. 

“Kind of stating the obvious here, Chae.”

“I know, I’m sorry,” she says in that irresistibly cute voice. It doesn’t seem too cute anymore when you compare it to how she begins to ride you, her hips rolling forward as if she’s trying to feed her cunt more of your cock. “But who’s to say we can’t use it to our advantage?”

She isn’t even explaining herself yet but already it sounds like all sorts of bad ideas. Chaewon herself is a bad idea. You told yourself that at the party, but she ends up on your cock anyway. 

Like right now: her clever hips snap downwards, and there’s that timeless feeling of her walls clenching around you. You lay back on the sofa and try to take deep breaths. Chaewon’s done this before, more than you could tally, but the way she fixes herself onto your cock feels new each time. You have to reacquaint yourself with how tight she actually is. 

The toned line of Chaewon’s back arches beautifully. You can’t take your eyes off it. Your abs tighten up as her ass bounces on your cock. 

“Let’s see: we’re both pretty fucking hot—” You laugh, the sound drowned out by a moan of your own. Chaewon bites her lip. “And we both have a pretty hard time keeping our hands off each other. Imagine the money we could make off that.”

Chaewon’s going faster now. Her strangled groans collide with the sound of her thighs slapping against yours. 

“Are you saying what I think you’re saying?” you ask, because the more Chaewon bounces on you, the more you can’t think of a reason it should be a bad idea.  

Her melodic moans strike every chord. How she could even get words out from how hard she’s riding you, you’ve no idea. Chaewon is a strategist anyway. She knows how to make do. So she rises from your lap, letting each pulsing inch leave her cunt, before ramming them all back inside her. 

You groan. Chaewon laughs, but in spite of it, her languid movements never stop. When she gyrates to and fro, you start thinking about how this is probably a ploy to get you to agree. Look, her body seems to talk to you, in all its little motions and curves, look how good it is to see me stuffed with your fat cock. Look how good you make me feel. Wouldn’t you want to see it all on camera?

You both know what the answer is.

Chaewon’s smirking. “I’m saying we should make a movie.” She starts rubbing her clit, and her breath hitches between her sultry words. “And god, baby, we don’t even have to have a script or anything. It could just be me and you, doing what we do best.”

Her voice gets higher. Her hips start to move faster, more frantically than you could handle. And lord knows you’re the only one who could handle Chaewon. If it weren’t for you, who was going to keep her satisfied?

“And you know the camera’s my best friend. I’d look good getting stuffed by that hard cock from any angle. Anyone can watch you fuck me, but they know they could never be as good as you. They could never own me like you do.”

This has to be illegal. It’s the way she’s egging you on, knowing exactly what to say to ruin you, combined with the orgasmic choreography of her hips that renders you defenseless against her. And what harm could be done? Chaewon looks great on camera, even greater when it immortalizes into pixels how her face looks when she cums. It could be something you’d look back at when you’re worked up and she isn’t there (although that rarely happens), or sell with a reminder taped onto the plastic case that she’s yours. They can watch her get her little pussy destroyed but ultimately, at the end of the day, your bed is where she ends up.

You hate to say it, but all in all it sounds like a pretty fucking good idea.

“Fuck, Chaewon…”

“Is that a yes?” she asks eagerly. The lethal grip of her pussy starts to feel overwhelming. “It’s a win-win situation… please, won’t you say yes? Please, please, please—”

You could never say no to her, honestly. Not when she turns to look back at you with those sparkling doll eyes, and definitely not when she’s milking you.

You watch your cum drip outside of her like a waterfall. It’s hard to take your eyes off it, but then there’s Chaewon’s face, sweaty and lost to bliss. Yeah, she would look great on camera. And you did remember thinking back then, when you first met Chaewon, that she was never the type of girl to not be captured by a camera lens. You admit that your idea was pictorials and Vogue covers, not porn videos.

But later on, after Chaewon goes for a shower again to clean your mess up and actually works out, you find yourself setting up an account. Of course, there needs to be a discussion of some kind of how far you actually want to go with this.

“Do you want to be like… a full-on pornstar?” you ask. The question makes your ears burn. It’s not something you’d ask the average person, but you’ve been through this a million times; Kim Chaewon is not an average girl.

It’s late afternoon and you’re on a videocall with her as she drives home. The gorgeous interior of the Mustang looks almost mediocre when put next to Chaewon’s gorgeous face. 

“Nope.” She shakes her head. “I’m not made for Pornhub, sorry to disappoint.”

“How is that disappointing?” you ask in disbelief.

“I dunno. A lot of people wanna see me do porn, but it’s just gonna be a side hustle for me.” 

Nod as you get the verification code from her email. You realize that you share everything with Chaewon. You know all her passwords and she knows yours. Your bank accounts are intertwined with each other. It’s a bad idea, seeing as there isn’t a clear definition on what’s going on between you. 

But right now, you’re literally creating an account to do porn together. It can’t get worse than that.

You pick Chaewon’s prettiest photo for the avatar—one of her in that tight Diesel top with her fingers through her hair. It parallels with the small rectangle in the corner of your screen.

“It’s asking for your age,” you tell her. 

Chaewon rolls her eyes, hands tightening on the wheel. “You know the names of all the positions we’ve tried but not my birthday?”

Cowgirl at Eunbi’s house as you try to be quiet, 69 at that suite after your promotion—okay fine, maybe she has a point.

“I do know your birthday. I just can’t do math.”

“You’re an idiot,” she says. There’s sweat rolling down the sides of her face. It shines on her chest and drips down the fabric of her sports bra. You can’t stop thinking of how her skin looks so good, flushed and stretched. 

Do a little mental math, eyes up to the spiralling ceiling fan. “Was I still an idiot when I made you cum thrice last night?”

Chaewon’s face burns red. The memory’s still fresh in that pretty little head of hers. “Shut up. Just fix my account and I’ll call Minju to give us advice later.”

“Park Minju or—”

“Please use your head for once. Is there another Minju who’s both a friend of mine and a pornstar?”

Alright, so she’s talking about Kim Minju. Pretty face, cute voice, thighs that could crush you. The girl’s a socialite who only does all the indie films for fun—the talent fees mean nothing to her. 

That’s probably why she does the whole porn thing so well. Top creator minjugato.__. earns millions a month from just a camera, her bed, and another girl. She’s fulfiled a whole niche: not too famous to get into an actual scandal, not too invisible for the common guy to recognize her from a small platform movie and think hey, I don’t mind paying for this.

You look at her slim, composed figure fixed on the edge of your own bed. “How long have you been doing this?” 

Minju smiles. “Not long enough,” she says teasingly, leaning over the PC. She’s typing in a caption for your first livestream. So far she’s helped you get a fair amount of followers with a helpful promotion post. 

minjugato.__.: hi all!!! any weekend plans? :3 mine is to watch my best friend ssamuwon’s new movie later tonight. maybe you should come by!! it’s pretty explicit but i don’t think that would be a problem 👀

The stats rise by the minute. Five thousand people await Chaewon’s debut to start. Everytime you look away the number seems to get higher. There’s clear demand for Chaewon, the hottest girl in Gangnam, perhaps even the whole of South Korea itself.

No need for second-guessing. Chaewon’s in your lap, wearing the tiniest tube top known to man. You’ve seen her in less clothes and without them completely but this one’s just explicit. It accentuates her waist and lets a little skin show before her black shorts—somehow even tinier—hug her hips. 

It’s no wonder at all she managed to convince you to fuck her for work. They’ve said to avoid capitalizing off your hobbies, but let the record show that you won’t ever get tired of fucking Chaewon. 

Minju makes a final click on your keyboard. “You’re live in five minutes. I set up a few ground rules in the corner just in case they get wild.” She fires you a wink. 

Chaewon reads the box of rules sent in the chat, pinned to the top of the stream. It’s all pretty basic. No scat, no invasion of privacy, just the usual. Minju conveniently added that requests paired with high donations are prioritized. You shudder. What would the viewers make you do to Chaewon? There’s too many fantasies to pick from. 

“Thanks for helping me slut myself out, Minju,” says Chaewon with a smile too sweet for what she just said. 

It doesn’t faze Minju at all. She actually laughs, the crease of her eyes making her look like a sly fox. “You know what they say: you have to learn from the best.”

Oh, the best, alright: Minju’s videos speak for themselves. They’ve gotten billions of views, spread across every social media platform to the point she had to commission someone for a watermark. It’s all good publicity anyway. More people watching meant more traction and discovery of her account. 

The air in your room is thick with excitement. The ringlight casts a perfect shadow over Chaewon’s body. There she is, much smaller than you while your shadow alone could overpower here.

And of course, Minju’s hourglass shape is there as well. It doesn’t look like she’s leaving anytime soon. You honestly don’t mind it.

One minute to showtime. Chaewon holds your face in her hands. She’s as flawless as the day you met: perfect skin, thick lashes, eyes that could kill. There’s an evil smile sewn on those glossed lips.

“You ready, baby?” she asks. You’ve often wondered how she does that: she could speak in her usual high, cheerful voice most of the time but when the world dissolves to nothing more than you and these sheets, it drops to this ridiculously sexy low note. She’s insane. She’s unpredictable. But she’s also the sexiest woman you know.

If you had to be honest—

“Never been more ready.”

Chaewon is actually the perfect girl for this job.

When it comes to porn, it has to be specific. Every detail should be. The average viewer looks for something that they can’t get anywhere and it’s her job to be that. When every comment’s assumption about her is different, she has to put on a multitude of faces, all to keep their interest.

And it comes as nothing to her.

anonymous_lurk_79: she’s way too cute to be on here NumberOneMinjuLuver replied: it’s the cute ones that are the freakiest i said the same thing about minju

The red light blinks beside the lens. So does Chaewon, getting on her knees before the camera and batting her lashes. She’s whatever they want to be.

“Hello, is this thing on?” Chaewon smiles sweetly, as if she isn’t discussing being fucked for an audience of seven thousand and counting. “It’s my first time doing this stuff. I hope you all go easy on me.”

She looks up at you then at your growing erection. She giggles. “But I hope this one here goes as hard as he likes.”

Minju giggles, too. Chaewon was a natural.

“Shall we start?” she asks. “How do you want me?”

mingmingult: she looks a lot like the girl in minjugato’s videos whenidiethr0wmyphoneintheocean donated $****: suck his cock first like a good girl

Four digits already? 

Chaewon does as she’s told. She wraps her small hand around your cock, giving it a few hypnotic strokes. Feels like your heart is beating right there in her palm, too. She could feel every hot throb of arousal.

She then wraps her luscious lips around your cock and starts to suck. She suckles on the first few inches, letting her tongue dance around the sensitive bits, before she moves on to take more. You can see her shorts ride further down her ass as she pushes her face on your cock. 

You pick up the camera and generously give the viewers a POV shot. Chaewon blinks slowly at the camera, breaking the fourth wall, and sits on her heels so they could see some of her cleavage. She looks even more enticing and tight in this angle. Try to keep your breaths controlled so it doesn’t drown out the sloppy sounds of Chaewon making out with your cock.

“Such a good little slut,” you murmur. Use your other hand to grab Chaewon’s short hair. She moans happily. Her seductive chuckle vibrates and sends ripples of electricity throughout your body.

1800hotnfun donated $****

Chaewon sloppily presses more of your length down her throat. Her breaths arrive shorter. You have no idea if she’s looking at you or the camera. You get the advantage either way; the juxtaposition of those large innocent eyes and the way she’s blowing you could make any man cum in seconds. 

nsfwizone donated $** 69__jonginkang donated $*****: what a fucking tease ANTIFRAGILENTHUSIAST donated $******: need to see this pretty little whore’s mouth filled w my cum

That would answer your rent for the next few months, with money on the side to really get this gig going. Plus, Minju did say that large donation requests should be prioritized. 

And if whoever this guy was wanted to see Chaewon with cum overflowing from her lips, then so be it.

Your grip on Chaewon’s hair borders on painful. You pull it back, angling her chin upwards. Film from the side and the viewers could see how your cock dents Chaewon’s throat, rapidly filling it up again and again. Her nipples are already hard. Her lips provide a tight suction, her hands on your waist an anchor for balance.

You’re really giving it to her now. Chaewon’s helpless little whimpers do things to you, and apparently to the other eight thousand viewers wishing they were in your shoes. The chat is filled with obscenities. The donations rank up higher. Everyone’s waited far too long to see Kim Chaewon get her face fucked.

If it hurts, Chaewon doesn’t say anything. She doesn’t even push you away or tap out. She lies there with her knees red and grazed, taking every shot you eventually pour into her waiting mouth. Each swift plunge makes her tits bounce in that tight top. Your cum fills her soft cheeks to the brim.

The flash makes the tears in Chaewon’s eyes sparkle. “Did you get every drop?” you ask.

Chaewon nods.

“Show me.”

She looks directly at the camera as she opens her mouth. As expected, you’re given a view of the pool of semen she kept for herself. She swallows it all obediently.

pipipi: fuck that was so hot Bunnybaby: we have a new supreme

You look at Minju for approval. It’s tens across the board for her—she looks flushed, squirming on the chair. There’s a lazy smile on her face.

“Was I a good girl?’’ Chaewon asks. The chat responds quickly. It’s flooded with emojis, donations, and dirty remarks. “Shouldn’t I get a reward for swallowing your cum?”

What reward? There’s a million things you want to do to her. You could bend her over the bed, creampie her, then fuck her ass until her cheeks are red. The possibilities are endless.

You look at the stream for suggestions. One particularly dirty comment points out how hard Chaewon’s nipples are, poking through the tube top in need of attention.

Chaewon reads it, too. Her fingers run up the shape of her figure coyly. “Can Chaewonie touch herself, please?”

She cups her boobs, slowly placing her fingers over the soft flesh. A groan immediately leaves her used mouth. She makes sure to look at the camera when she bites her lip. 

She pushes the top down until it bunches just below her perfect breasts. The fabric pushes up her tits even more, as if coaxing the spotlight to focus on them. 

She starts to pinch her nipples, tweaking and pulling them like they were made to be. You can see her getting worked up already. Each roll of her fingers over the hard nubs makes her soak through her lace panties. The little sounds she makes could kill you.

“Please?” Chaewon pouts. “I’m so, sooo sensitive. Can you help me out, daddy?”

You don’t have to say anything for her to know your answer. Your job is to be silent after all. It’s Chaewon they’re paying for, not you.

You set the camera back in its place and gently push Chaewon to the mattress. You tower over her. You’re taller, bigger, stronger; and it’s even clearer when there’s the lack of proximity between the two of you. She could barely reach your shoulders. It’s the little things like that the audience looks for. 

It’s the little things like that which set you off. 

Chaewon looks good in any angle. She constantly proves that with her Instagram photos, where even closeups make her look like a goddess. But she looks the best when she’s underneath you, writhing for your touch. 

You don’t stall more than you need to. The hot kisses on her neck are just foreplay. You attach your lips to a stiff nipple. She arches her back, but you keep her pinned to the soft cloud that is your mattress—she’s not going anywhere yet. You make sure of that by pinching the other nipple, giving both sensitive breasts equal attention.

“F-fuck…” Chaewon’s whimper is nearly inaudible. The rise and fall of her chest is hypnotic. She pushes her tits into your hand as you lick and suck. “You’re so good at that.”

You’re not selling yourself short, but these easy reactions are easily drawn from the fact that she’s sensitive. Dangerously so. The trail of your hand across her body leaves one of goosebumps. The thrill of getting her face fucked still runs high, and you discovered early on that the easiest way to make Chaewon melt was play with her tits. 

You squeeze her hard enough to make her whine. But your other hand’s grown tired of kneading her breast. It’s more interested in the soaked patch of arousal in the center of Chaewon’s shorts. Her legs immediately lock around your wrist, making you finish what you started. You can’t just play with her nipples then leave her to fend for herself. 

“Don’t stop,” Chaewon gasps. Your digits start to work between her legs. Her thighs tremble and her breath hitch in that particular way that drives you wild. The tight fabric of the shorts makes it difficult for you to intensify your movements, but you make do. Chaewon deserves to get fucked within an inch of her life. It’s what she so desperately wants anyway.

It shows in how she’s pushing herself up against you, tangling her fingers in your hair, hoisting her hips up so you could go deeper. The wet squelch of your fingers driving into her cunt is deafening. It makes her blush, but she’s got no reason to be ashamed. The viewers love it. They’re throwing money at her and betting on how fast she can cum.

Chaewon finally makes a mess on your fingers and screams at the top of her lungs, shaking and whining. When the bliss overtakes her features, you suddenly become sure of something:

You’re about to be the richest guy on the planet.

-

“Jesus.” Minju claps her hands together, looking very impressed. “You two are naturals.”

It’s been three days since Chaewon’s debut, but the profit you made could fit five months.  Chaewon’s doll eyes go wide seeing the numbers on the screen. You’re surprised as well at the followers you got in so little time. Other creators needed months of work to get this kind of traction. 

“This is insane,” you say. Hand Minju a cup of tea while Chaewon measures the damage she did on the internet. Mini tabloids are going crazy. And of course, people on your street are starting to look at her differently. They know too much about what goes on inside Chaewon’s luxury apartment, but they can’t tell the world how they found out.

Minju accepts the cup gracefully. For someone who’s been doing this for so long, she’s massively impressed by the quick success. Chaewon’s follower count will match hers in little time.

“I knew we were gonna do well, but not like this,” you tell her. “Thanks for all the help, Minju.”

Chaewon giggles. “Not that we needed any.”

“Little brat can’t even be grateful,” you say disapprovingly. Chaewon pouts, but doesn’t look regretful in the slightest.

Minju’s laugh is as charming as she is. “She’s not wrong. I don’t think getting money would be a problem, but you have to keep the hype going. You don’t want to peak so early.”

She sounds like a PR manager for all the beautifully fucked up films you’re going to make with Chaewon. You trust her word, though. This was a woman who knows what she’s talking about.

Chaewon studies her nails, painted hot pink and only long enough to scratch your back. “Maybe we could open up requests.”

“That’s a good idea,” Minju agrees. “People would pay a lot to see you live out their fantasies.” She sits back on your couch. A look of amusement crosses her face. “One time a guy paid me five hundred for feet pics.”

You raise your brows. “Feet pics?”

Minju doesn’t recognize the implication and only shrugs it off. You couldn’t believe people were actually into feet. It sounds pretty mild to Minju. She’s probably been made to do worse. “It’s easy money. He could’ve gotten videos with that amount.” 

Chaewon thinks of that for a second. It doesn’t sound too bad. It would take less effort than setting up a camera and managing through violent orgasms. But she thinks she likes the latter more anyway.

She used to hear older people give her advice when she was a student. They said to make money off what she liked to do, and she’d never have to work a day in her life. She smirks. How would they react if she told them how she made her money now?

“You could paywall the more intense stuff,” Minju’s suggesting now. “Don’t ever downplay how good you’re doing. If people want to pay for it and would pay for it, let them. But don’t post too often. You want to keep them wanting more.”

“Biweekly sound fine?” Chaewon asks. Oh, she’s serious about this. You wonder how you’ll survive the next week. 

“Perfect, actually.”

You butt in the conversation for a moment. “What about equipment?” Sure, you had a ringlight and a PC, but there’s nothing more. You imagine that this would take a lot of work and stuff, like a professional camera and neon lights. 

Chaewon was wondering about that as well. She looks at Minju, who shakes her head, much to your surprise.

“You won’t have to worry about that. The average person isn’t going to Pornhub anymore to get off. They want something unscripted now.”

Minju’s fox eyes dart pointedly at the two of you. “They want something real,” she stresses.

Her gaze is sharp with accusation. Chaewon laughs and rests her head on your shoulder. You don’t say a word to deny it.

-

Just in case anybody clutches their pearls over it, you’ll clarify here that you still have pretty normal jobs. You’re not totally prostituting yourselves for money, although you hate to use that term and you’re not desperate for the extra income.

You work a corporate job and volunteer at your nearest charity when you have time on your hands. (Taking note of the latter is advice you have to take yourself because it seems you live off sin 24/7.) It allows you to split the rent with Chaewon and buy food. 

As for Chaewon, she also works a regular job. You think? Wait, you realized that you have no idea what she does for a living. You simply assumed that with all her vices and expensive clothes, she must have a job keeping her busy somewhere.

Come to think of it, you’ve never heard her complain about work. It’s been a while since you moved in and got to know each other, but all the sticky notes about deadlines on the fridge are yours. 

“Chaewon, I have something I want to ask you.”

She turns to you, her legs swinging off the seat at the bar. You gulp. All of her beautiful legs are on display thanks to that tiny brown dress. The only things that bother saving anything to the imagination are her boots. 

That stitched cowboy hat too, if it counts. And it does the opposite of what it should. It makes you think of how well it matches her dress, and the way it makes her look like a cowgirl who could ride—

“Yes?” she says, still bopping her head to the music. 

“Where the hell do you get all your money?”

Chaewon ponders over this for some time, then takes a sip of her margarita. “Oh, I don’t know.” Seeing the surprise on her face nearly makes her spit her drink out from laughing. “Seriously, I don’t know! I think it just shows up in my bank account. I guess our little collaboration helps, too.”

She winks at you. Your breaths shorten.

Nope. Just because she’s the hottest girl alive doesn’t mean she can lie to you. “Liar.”

“Don’t be a dick.”

“What was I supposed to think, Chae?” you say as diplomatically as you can. You gesture to your surroundings. “We’re in one of the most expensive bars in Hongdae where the fucking senators’ kids create scandals. You’re wearing another designer set.”

You had a point. Chaewon shrugs off the offense she took. “My fault for assuming you’d think about anything other than me in this dress.”

She stands up and twirls around. The skirt floats around her thighs. Those safety shorts are way too tiny to be considered safe. Chaewon gets a hit out of teasing you though, grinning when the realization registers on your face.

“Don’t you want to take pics of me?” asks Chaewon with a pout. She doesn’t wait for your answer and hands you her phone. It’s the latest one, pink and sleek. “So we have content to upload later!” 

While you have qualms about taking pictures of Chaewon in her ridiculously provocative outfit, she’s right. It’s been a few days since your last upload. Minju said it was important not to post too often, but too long in between posts could throw your followers off.

So here you are again, playing the role of a photographer. You snap several photos of her within minutes. Chaewon switches between poses like they’re nothing. You have one where she’s bent slightly over the bar, a finger on her lips as she looks coyly at her short skirt. There’s one in the bathroom where she looks at the mirror instead of the lens. She’s holding the cowboy hat on her head and winking. 

All that skin, that shameless seductiveness… it feels like you’re getting drunk off of these sexy photos instead of the alcohol. Chaewon is too hot for you to handle.

You return to your private booth to upload them. What would she do without you? You’re her fuckbuddy, best friend, and social media manager all at the same time. 

anyone know where i can find a ride? ❣️🤠

It’s difficult to think of a good caption. Choosing which photos to post is ruining you. Not to mention the filtering to bring out the brown of her eyes and the sunlight. It makes you stall. You have to keep staring. You have to take note of every detail, every delicious curve of her body. Images of Chaewon posing, winking, and showing off are burned forever into your mind.

Your hands shake as you hit post. Turn your phone off. Focus on having a good time and dancing and singing and whatever you do, do not take another look at those pictures. 

“Oh, you poor thing.” 

Oh no. 

Chaewon sounds smug as ever as she takes a seat on your lap. “Hard already? We aren’t even in the bedroom.”

You don’t need this right now. Getting an erection could not come at a more inconvenient time. You can’t say anything provided that you can’t even meet her eyes.

“Don’t worry,” she purrs. “I’m gonna take care of that.”

There’s a hunger in Chaewon that needs to be satiated today. You can see the fire in her eyes as she pulls you out and wraps a fist around your stiff cock. The sight of her small, dainty hand compared to your shaft is provocative by itself. Those large, deceptively innocent eyes stay on yours while she drags her delicious touch up and down, preparing you for her. 

“Been needing you so bad lately…” 

Chaewon lifts her hips slightly. She allows your cock to rub between her slick folds, teasing at her entrance but never quite giving her what she needs. Her breath hitches when you hit her clit. 

“Promise to fill me all the way up,” she whines. “Don’t leave a single drop.”

You wouldn’t dare. There hasn’t been any penetration yet the wetness of her puffy lips feels like heaven. In your hands, her core works her waist into circles. More precum ends up grinding and mixing between your sexes. 

Chaewon whimpers. “Promise me.”

“Fuck, gonna fill this pussy up, Chaewon.” Her nipples poke through the thin bikini. Her grinding grows more desperate as you groan out your obscene promise. “Gonna breed this perfect pussy. Just ride my cock like the pretty little fuckdoll you are.”

She can’t take it anymore. Chaewon slams herself down on your cock in one go.

The stretch hurts so good. Her head throws back with a breathy moan. Her soft walls immediately hold onto you, throbbing and needy. 

The music is a dull thump through the walls. You could feel the bass in your heart time with Chaewon’s bouncing. Her back is against the door. 

“There,” she gasps. “Right there, don’t stop…”

Her eyes are dim with pleasure. You bring a hand up to pinch and roll her nipple, circling the taut peak with your thumb. Immediately Chaewon’s internal muscles clench around you like a vise. 

Her hips start to lift and dance in a little choreography of an impending orgasm. You hold her down, pinning her to your lap while you thrust up in her. The tightness becomes harder to push past through. She’s so tense that you have to rub your thumb against her clit to get her to relax. 

Your eyes meet. Jesus, she was a sight for sore eyes. The toasty, sunkissed color of her makeup makes her look like she’s blushing. The two of you are flushed either way. There’s forbidden excitement in knowing one of the servers could walk in here at any moment and see Chaewon riding you harshly. You shouldn’t be doing this here. There were important people who could raise this complaint to the higher-ups and get you banned forever.

You can stop the bullshit. When has hesitation saved you from getting in trouble? When has anything convinced you not to fuck Kim Chaewon? 

-

You didn’t even mean to execute this request so well.

It just so happens that this is how a day in your life looks like with Kim Chaewon. While they pay to place themselves in your shoes and see it happen, you’re the one who actually gets to touch her. 

A guy who went by the username hanyoooojin sent a large amount of money the moment Chaewon announced requests. Unlike the other ones who filled up the rest of the slots, he didn’t want anything overly specific.

Netflix and chill anyone? 😉

That was the caption you set for the video. It’s something enticing even with its simplicity, and come on, people would watch anything if it had Chaewon in it. 

The camera records everything. It starts out with Chaewon dressed in your shirt. It’s way too big on her, and if the fabric were any more see-through, it would be clear she only had a bra on. She’s lying next to you on your bed as a movie plays on your TV.

The volume is low, almost to complete silence. It’s only static background noise to what’s going to happen.

Chaewon snuggles against you. Her body is already warm. But she does a good job of acting like she’s interested in the movie. She called it boring a million times before, and you remain convinced it was an attention span issue. 

“I fucking hate when movies are slow,” she had said. She rolled her eyes. “What’s the point of making me wait thirty minutes for something exciting to happen?”

“Sounds a lot like you to hate taking things slow,” you replied easily, earning you a punch in the shoulder.

Maybe that’s why her hand slips under the blanket a little too early. You’re supposed to be a sweet domestic couple. It’s just a role you have to play for cash to come in. Chaewon’s the sweet girlfriend and you’re the boyfriend who still wants to hang out with her even when you’re exhausted. You watch a movie together, as requested, pretending you have no idea of what she’s about to do.

Her creamy thighs folded against each other hide her wetness. Chaewon’s become a master at angles. She knows to lift the blanket a little above your thighs so the camera captures her hand in your shorts. 

You look down at what she’s doing and laugh. “Thought you wanted to watch a movie,” you say. 

Her lazy strokes work you to full mast. You remind yourself that this was supposed to be unhurried, but there was no delaying gratification around Chaewon. 

Chaewon takes her eyes briefly off the screen to smile at you. “I do.” Her voice is soft and unfazed. She looks adorable in those puppy pajamas. It really sells the fantasy. “But I can do two things at once, can’t I?”

Her thumb circles your tip with maddening precision. Chaewon kisses you with the same gentleness she uses to jack you off. You can tell she’s struggling not to pounce on you. This isn’t the kind of sex she was used to. Sex for Chaewon was trading orgasms until one of you confessed you ran short. 

For this one, she has to keep herself sane. She has to be tender with it. She takes your hand, squeezes it in hers, and places it right where she needs you. The tiny pajama shorts allow easy access to her cunt. 

“Just keep watching,” she whispers.

The hair at the back of your neck stands up. Your lips find Chaewon’s again. You run your fingers up and down her slick folds while she jerks you off. Aside from a few heavy breaths and twitches of her tight body, she doesn’t take her eyes off the movie. She’s equal parts engrossed by it and focused on getting you off.

Chaewon’s voice runs into a whine as you go faster. Her thighs start to get messy with her own arousal. It’s taking everything in her not to strip off this shirt and ride you. She can do that later, something even the audience can’t pay to see. 

Even though you’re needy and throbbing in the soft grip of her fist, you smirk. “What’s the matter, baby? I thought you said we should focus on the movie.” 

Chaewon is still intent on keeping up the pretense. But it’s clear she wants this, too, the handjob no longer the unhurried routine she initiated.

You thrust your fingers against that sweet spot she’s been aching for you to reach. Chaewon’s body curls around you tightly. Her fingernails find purchase scratching on your forearm. 

She can’t do this any longer. You’re the only actor she can watch now. Her gaze seals onto yours as her movements grow more frantic, like she’s willing you to do the same. You have one common goal here, really. It’s evident from the precum leaking onto her wrist, her cunt pulsing around your digits. This could only end one way.

That’s one of the many requests you and Chaewon fulfill. Besides the need for real stamina, especially for longer videos, it’s actually not that taxing. It’s no construction job anyway, but fucking Chaewon comes easily to you. It takes no work at all when it’s as natural as improv.

Over the weeks, you get people tipping generously just for photos, and you remember what Minju said about them. People paid a lot to see a pretty girl naked and doing whatever they wanted.

“It’s up to you if you want to do them,” you remind Chaewon. It’s one of those lazy afternoons where you’d rather bask in the airconditioning than do anything productive. While you’re fully conscious, your body’s still in sleep mode, draped in the duvet and Chaewon’s form.

Chaewon rolls her eyes. You don’t really see it since she’s clicking away at her phone, but you know her so well that it’s like watching a movie you got a first look at unfold. “Look at you getting all mushy. I told you I don’t break easily.”

You know that, too. You’ve folded her in half and split her legs apart so many times, but you learned not to let her small stature fool you. In no makeup and just an oversized shirt and shorts, Chaewon’s the most antifragile person you know. 

You wave a hand in the air. “Of course you won’t break down. You’re the most dick-addicted girl in the world.” Chaewon snorts at that. “But we’re doing homemade porn for a reason. This isn’t a corporate or something. You don’t have to do every request there is.”

Chaewon sees where this is leading up to. She shuts her phone and shifts on the bed, the ocean blue sheets rustling above her. Her arms rest on your stomach. 

She tilts her head to the side like a puppy. There’s an amused smile on her face. 

“First of all, you should stop worrying so much,” she tells you. The faux sternness in her tone shouldn’t be this cute. “And second of all, nobody’s making me do anything I don’t want to do. I’m a big girl, you don’t have to worry about me.”

Right. It should be common sense already. Chaewon’s always done things of her own accord. She’s not the malleable type of girl who takes no trouble to convince. It’s honestly one of the traits you admire about her outside of the bedroom. Maybe, if you had Chaewon’s heart of steel or one-track mind, you wouldn’t have let her fuck you at that party. You wouldn’t be in this bed with her.

But god, were you glad you’re here.

You lose yourself in these thoughts for barely five seconds and she’s already suddenly too close. One wrong move and you’d end up kissing her. There’s that warmth again, radiating from her body in what you figured to identify as a sign. You get one too many good omens from Chaewon.

“And you know what I really, really want to do?” she asks breathily. Every word is a sultry huff against your lips.

Very few could stand a chance against her. You think it’s why she likes you so much and keeps you around, regardless if she’d admit it. You’re the only guy who could look her in the eye like you are right now and reply, “Do I even have to guess?”

It doesn’t take long for it to happen. These spontaneous sessions are becoming a bad habit. But how can you help yourself when Chaewon looks like that? You’ve no defense against those lithe legs and tight midriff, much less against that even tighter pussy. 

It just so happens all this looks great on camera.

You close the gap between you until it feels like your bodies are bonded together. They’re impossible to break apart. You have one hand closed around Chaewon’s wrists, the other on her hip. The pillow muffles her screams as you thrust into her mindlessly. Her ass is sore and red. 

“God, all that talk was for nothing, wasn’t it?” It’s always worth it in the end. You completely own her. Her pussy was just made for your cock, clinging wetly onto your girth and doing so even tighter when you back it out. “You just wanted to rile me up so I can show you you’re my good little slut, taking my dick like you were born to do.”

Chaewon’s crying out, messy little sounds tumbling out of her drooling lips. The pillowcase bears her weight and those tears of bliss. The truth is she wouldn’t trade this for anything else. She could spend all her life on the end of your length, whining her tiny waist into your palms and her ass perked and ready for you. She wouldn’t know what to do without hearing the sound of your skin snapping against hers.

“Feels so—fucking—good!” Chaewon sobs into the pillow. Senseless words are all you could fuck out of her. She can’t think much when you have your dizzying grip on her wrists like that or when you’re completely destroying her tight hole. “I’m just your personal cumdump, I’m all yours, you’re going so fucking fast—”

She’s absolutely dripping around you. Her body responds to you so well because this is exactly how she likes being fucked. She likes being fucked as if you’re trying to get her cunt to memorize the shape of your member. Not one spot on her body is left untouched. Her pussy tightens dangerously when you drive up into her cunt and those messy moans could be heard even with the fabric against her mouth. 

And it’s incredible without all the lighting and ignoring the camera blinking next to you. You’ve got a great view: Chaewon bent over and her ass up on the bed, the hourglass shape of her waist to her hips even more appealing from this angle, and her toned back shining with sweat. Her tits swing back and forth in response to the force you’re taking out on her. It could make any man go crazy.

You should’ve known to put towels on the bed, because the ending’s always the same when Chaewon feels the entirety of your control, when she’s being fed every thick inch of your cock, being handled like she’s nothing but a doll to release into—

“Oh my god!” Chaewon cries out, the lightning before the thunder, the thunder before the storm. Her scream is equal parts bliss and awe—she’s shaking all over, and the swift deep drills of your cock draw out her squirt. 

Neither of you expect it. The sharp sound of it makes you slow down. She hasn’t stopped pushing her ass into you. The puddle gets on your thighs and hers, splattering on the sheets. You feel suspended in mid-air staring at the mess she’s making. It feels even more surreal knowing you did it to her.

Chaewon collapses forward, her cheek against the softness of the pillow. It’s ridiculous how good she looks in spite of the messy hair and kiss-swollen lips. Always the temptress. The camera shines light on her exhausted, satisfied simper. 

And of course, there’s the evidence that will prove this happened. It will back you up even if Chaewon randomly decides not to post this video on the internet or worse, call everything off. The fresh mess she left on the blanket—the same one you had just been cuddling in a few hours earlier—is all the proof you’ll need.

Chaewon laughs breathlessly. She arches her back beautifully as she pulls away from your cock. It’s the perfect ending scene. 

-

All entertainment industries are parallel to each other in a way. You could work in film (legitimate films, by the way—not whatever you and Chaewon are making), music, or K-pop but what they don’t tell you is they all work the same. They manufacture and process things that appeal to the consumer. You could play the usual tropes, tunes, or concepts. Go down the loveteam road or make another generative pop song. If you’re brave enough, you can search for a niche and make it your brand.

You can do anything—release an Oscar-winning film or write a critically acclaimed album, pick your poison. It all boils down to one thing everyone is looking for anyway:

A big break. 

It will solidify your place in the industry and make sure you stay there, and if not, it makes sure you get a higher spot. A big break would earn you a loyal amount of followers and more money in your pocket. Very few get their big break. Some, although deserving, don’t get theirs at all.

In Chaewon’s situation, her big break was that video. Everyone’s talking about it and everyone’s absolutely obsessed with it. You see it posted in places you don’t expect seeing it: Instagram group chats, the NSFW side of Twitter, and the first Google result that pops up when you search Chaewon’s name. It’s gotten so much traction that you start putting a watermark of her username over the videos, along with a link to her social media profiles should they ever get crossposted again.

It’s an overnight success. You grin when you see Minju’s messages, supportive as always.

And it's flawless, because she makes it flawless - which is the true cruelty of it.

You reply: for the record, I poison the food, trace amounts, bioaccumulative. you'll go quietly in your sleep the week before you become partner, and i'll be left to grieve into your half of a security deposit

we are never seeing that deposit again because you put your fist through the drywall demonstrating a rear naked choke

You said you felt unsafe walking to the subway

I feel unsafe walking to the kitchen, thank you very much. She turns a page she was reading - now drink your spit.

Gladly

You'd had this apartment since you were both broke - instant-noodle broke, splitting one metrocard broke, the sort of broke that's almost fun in the rearview because you survived it by the skin of your teeth.

Now she bills more in an hour than the rent. You do something with capital you've stopped trying to explain at parties - rather, take a middle distance, talk about all the publishing companies you've sponsored. exclaim books aren't dead after all! [1]

[1] of course, the irony of it is that they are, kind of dead

The radiator finds a new place to leak everyday, the second bathroom is a closet on account of all the pipe failures - and you have to pass by her bedroom to go to the bathroom. You'll take your grim - as she says - 4-in-1 facial cleanser, moisturizer, toner, window cleaner beside her 70 products to - as she says, to look like a porcelain cup. Either of you could leave tomorrow. But you don't.

I'm making you a tinder profile you say, taking her phone off the counter, sliding in the code to her phone.

I don't need a profile

You need a life. Or, at minimum, an orgasm that isn't self-induced.

She scoffs at the answer, still focused on the book -

You read aloud what you type in: emotionally available between the hours of never and also never.

Keep going. I'm aroused.

Lawyer, with three working holes

She sets the book down - this is how you know you've drawn blood - give me the phone

Make me

You had reserved a restaurant for the two of you, this new restaurant that was supposed to be great according to 15 google reviews who probably were the owner's extended family - doing their due diligence to make sure that this specific child doesn't become the family disappointment.

As always, the food comes out less than satisfactory; all the dishes are doused in butter; and the salad section was the most calorically dense section of the menu. You whisper about how much better you can make each of these dishes back home - and she'll agree, for once:

You ruined restaurants for me. I used to enjoy being disappointed by the $20 millennial man-bun burger. Now there's a douchebag at home who makes a great burger.

my pleasure with a smile.

She's scrolling tinder, still scrolling ever since the morning. Look at this, look at what's available to me. This one opened with the word 'yes'.

Atleast he's confident about it.

Oh please... she sighs, and this one wanted to know - whether i would rather have one thumb for a tongue or a tongue on every finger.

What did you land on. I think the tongue on every finger -

Nothing! It's so impractical, i'd rather think about - i don't know, vigorously masturbating.

You choke on some food you were actively chewing on, and she giggles - of course she does - and this one spelled 'pussy' wrong, this one wrote 'wyd 2nite' and I just have to scoff - how lazy do you have to be. It is ONE keystroke. T-O.

She drops the phone facedown, Who raised these men. Who looked at a child and thought: i will release this, unfinished, into the apps.

You'd know more about raising them, if you'd dated more than one person since the Pleistocene.

Atleast I committed, you - you just find anybody to fuck around with. She points at you, still chewing the complimentary bread - there was that one with the lululemon workout gear, said that's her sexpertise - she mimics a gag - then the DJ. The other DJ. Then I think there was another fucking DJ. I just genuinely -

Respect the hustle, Sohyun.

Respect the hustle? Your dick has commitment issues.

You laugh, and she's laughing too, the helpless one she hates, hand over her mouth, a soft cackle, perfect, uneven teeth showing - and you pay before she can fight you about it.

There's a dress shop two blocks down, on the way back to your apartment - and there's a green dress of something very expensive, to which she slows just a tad for -

You: Try it.

No thanks. It's ten thousand dollars with a tag.

So is everything you own. And then, you can't help it, it's right there - you lower your voice into something oily, shriveled, all menace, Let your uncle get it for you.

Absolutely not, strike it from the record

Uncle's had a very good quarter sweetheart. You pat a pocket. Uncle wants to see you in the green one.

I will call the actual police, I will have you locked up in maximum security - but, that laugh, she can't help herself, laughing into her hand - ...does uncle want to come in - watch me try it?

And for once, neither of you has the line to pull back.

...That got away from us, you manage, like something's lodged in your throat

That got away from you. She says. Buy me the dress, uncle. I've earned it.

Of course. You buy it.

The weekend arrives with the both of you brushing in the same bathroom, the only usable bathroom. She gargles, lets the foam clear away before slotting a length of floss between her teeth - By the way, I've a date today

With a... functioning human being?

His name is Mark. He used a semicolon correctly, nearly proposed on the spot.

So he's unemployed

He's a structural engineer, building the finest bridges.

Man who builds bridges and stays punctual - sounds like you matched with linkedin premium.

He's nice. Two long relationships, both ending kindly. Tips like he's apologizing for capitalism.

...So a serial killer?

He's just nice, man. She moves to throw the length of loss away.

Nobody's just nice. 4 months later the neighbors will find the crawlspace. You amble a comb through your hair. and then, I'll say I told you so.

She presses an index finger into your gut and you reflexively jolt - save this barking for later, uncle.

You move into the living room, waiting for Sohyun to get ready. You didn't get to see her in a green dress yet -

Uncle, I'm ready. She says, behind the door.

This uncle bit is getting old, Sohy - She comes out, the green dress skims her curves, the v-neck that presses her cleavage together, gleaming hair, glowing skin, plump lips -

Eyes up here mister.

Right. Get a hold of yourself - yeah, it looks great. Like, I don't know, it's like an accidentally sexy librarian.

Your eyes are fixed to my cleavage, I'm not even sure if you got the full view.

You did, you definitely did. This is, without a doubt, the hottest woman you've ever seen.

Now, help me zip up this thing.

There's the long bare reach of her back, you drag it up slowly, the zipper is small and your hands are big and you don't want to waste a moment of counting all the moles on her back.

I'm sorry but there won't be a person left in this city who hasn't looked down the front of that dress you say, pulling the zipper by parts.

Here I was, hoping the one exception was you.

Afraid not. You move some hairs away from her nape to get the zipper fully closed.

And she turns again, the dress comes out even more pressed to her curves, and that v-neck, god almighty. She steps into the heels -

I'm picturing it, you - a human - and this... linkedin premium.

God please no

I'm picturing it - two barbie dolls in the dark, knocking smooth plastic parts together. You say, vulgarity be damned.

Please stop talking - a familiar twitch to her mouth, god what you would do to continue living with her.

He won't get anywhere regardless, you add, holding out her coat unasked. Ten years with one man, a year of nothing since: there are cobwebs in there.

You know what's charming about the women you date? she says, taking the coat. How they all vanish after exactly one dinner. Like you're running a very tidy little murder operation

You know what's charming about the men you date? They don't exist. Mark is the first confirmed sighting. That's a million dollar sighting. Rarer than bigfoot.

Mark exists.

We'll see if he survives contact. Go easy on him, castrator

Don't need to go easy, dahmer. He's structurally sound. She slings a bag over her shoulder. Dont wait up.

You wait up, badly: lights off, a finance newsletter open on your phone that you're not reading, slouching on the couch like a man who is definitely not watching the door, ambling away the scalding minutes.

The lock turns at around eight PM. She comes in on the green dress and a drunk smile -

So, you say

So. She drops her shoes

How was Marco

Mark - she says, with emphasis - was wonderful.

And something about it feels wrong. Like swallowing something that's whole, cratering its path through your esophagus. Wonderful how, be specific, treat it as a deposition.

He's funny, actually funny, she pads into the kitchen, where you've already moved, filling two glasses of wine - we didn't stop talking. Three whole hours of talking, they flipped the chairs onto the tables around us.

Insufferable

There's a second date, a sip from the wine, a gentle smile on her. You wouldn't know the feeling.

Conversation's never been my deliverable.

No. I've seen your deliverable. It leaves before the coffee and changes its phone number

It leaves satisfied, you gesture, A courtesy Mark may never trouble you with

She hops up onto the counter, legs swinging in a gentle rhythm. And that dress - your dress, your genuinely terrible idea - pressed high to her thigh, all pretense of hem gone, riding clean all the way to the upper -

You'd buy it anyway. You'd buy it on leverage you don't have -

Oh please, monk of the orgasm temple. She scoffs. "Satisfied." Then tips her head, lowers the lashes, entering this little play that she imagines your women sing: I see you across the bar and - gosh (this emphasis on the trashiest possible gosh) - you really want me to put my tongue there!? I've never done that before. Sweet as a song. Does that play? On the book-illiterate?

Devastatingly so, you say. You should audition to be one of these... book-illiterates. I'm always casting.

No thanks. I've got a second date to look forward to.

Do you even get to the regular stuff, you ask, or do you have to bury the body first?

Now - she aims the empty glass at your sternum - you're trying to get me worked up.

You retrieve the glass, but up close she's all wine-warmth, hot perfume, the gentle trace of another man's cologne, and your body, traitorous as it is, gets worked up.

Oh my god. she says, looking down, radiant, with a ticking-time-bomb of a laugh - is that what I think it is?

Quickly, try to play it off - Don't flatter yourself, I was outside for a while and walked past alot of women - and she catches the lie like it's nothing, scoffing: You walked past, maybe, a leaking radiator.

The radiator's been forward lately. I haven't wanted to make it weird.

Should've seen it sooner, looks like we're arranging the date soon for the radiator fucker, she rules.

Oh, but I'm shy - an awful pitch to your voice.

And there's this soft silence, like nothing's wrong in the world - and Sohyun's grinning at you, wine marking her lips a tad darker, like you could just -

She tilts her head, openly appraising - I've always had a soft spot, she murmurs, for the small and the weak.

There's nothing small about me

You bring your dick up an awful lot. She slides off the counter and lands close. I wonder what that means.

It means you keep looking. I knew you would.

I wanted a visual, she says, It'll be giving me nightmares for weeks, thank you very much.

And then nothing's said. Kitchen too small, this green dress too close, the fact that you've got a hard-on to her and she... Fucking. Knows.

Goodnight, Dahmer she brushes past - because she has never once let you have the last move - and goes down the hall to her bedroom

And you're fine.

Completely fucking fine.

A month passes, Mark, the angel Sohyun's in love with has her busy on the weekends, letting her experience the city for what it's worth, letting her live a life she's missed out on for years.

He texts you on a Tuesday. Apparently I've been dating your roommate a month and never once bought her roommate a drink. Let me fix that - Friday? Sohyun's in, obviously.

You go to hate him - an agenda that Sohyun is already aware of. They're already there in the corner booth, two of them sitting next to eachother - and Mark rises to shake your hand. Tall and good-looking, how cliche - like he's never been escorted out of a holiday party by the shoulders.

You came. Mark says. Sohyun bet me twenty you'd bail.

I should have. I had a flawless evening of resenting you from across the city already booked. You slide in across from them.

So, you say. Bridges, tell me about the one that collapsed. The bodies, all the bodies.

None of mine have collapsed

That you know of.

He won an award, Sohyun interjected.

An award for a bridge that hasnt failed yet - committee's bold then. Waitress brings a beer, foam leaking at the top, and you take a sip - Personally, cantilevers - I say as a layman - overrated.

Overrated how. He gives a pleasant smile

The general load -

You don't know what a cantilever is.

I know it's a kind of bridge

It's mostly a kind of shelf. And he's kind about it, which is just unsufferable. You just came to find something wrong with me.

A felony. An ugly walk. An ugly way of chewing. Maybe you cheer for Arsenal. You reply, suavely.

Sorry to disappoint.

It's enraging. I keep waiting for you to mention the women in the well.

No well, he mock-sighs. HOA's strict.

It's the moment you tip - Has she told you what she actually does? She castrates men for a living. It's all framed back home.

And Sohyun - careful all night, porcelain-beautiful, hair curled to perfection - It's family law, castration for itemization. There's a huge difference.

Then she adds: Don't let him do the wounded act by the way. He's a "venture capitalist" and calls it a vocation.

I also keep a few dying publishers as pets, you tell Mark.

Sohyun, not missing a beat, There's a working theory. I won't bore you with the evidence but it has to do with organs.

There's no evidence. You point at her, then finally finishing the rest of the beer. It's all gone, mysteriously.

Mark interjects: They're not dying, though, the publishers. A little lost.

Oh, they're dying, you and Sohyun say, at the same time, in almost the same key - the both of you laugh.

That's the first time you feel him fall behind. He laughs too - but it's lagged, late.

You always look like you're one step off a knife fight, she tells you.

I'm delighted to be here, actually. Means I'm not off evicting some single mother from a shelter.

That was an accident.

Hmm.

There was a - Mark starts. - a shelter?

Long story, you and she say, in unison, and don't tell it.

He sits back a little.

You mention you came straight up from the office and she says she didn't realize they let people jaunt back and forth over the River Styx[2] like that, and you say there's a small toll, it's all very very very civilized, and Mark says the cross-town traffic this time of night is honestly murder -

[2] Sohyun's foul mouth comes up with a brilliant joke: that you are dead, but you still walk back and forth over the River Styx, which is the boundary from the living world and the underworld in greek mythology. Curse her!

and hears himself, and stops. Lays an arm along the booth behind her, losing the ability to time himself, and just watches. Like this girl was nothing like what he was looking at, something nearer to wonder, a man at the aquarium glass.

She laughs, turning mid-laugh to bring him in, asking isn't this funny, and finds him already looking at her, gone soft and far off, and the laugh snags in her throat.

Mark calls for the check - On me. Least I can do. For the floor show.

Laying - drunk off my tits the wine we spilt painting the ground there's a barrier that jives around his warm face And I notice then, you could ruin my life

Chapter 2:

A day later,

You get home, you spot a bottle of something brown open, shining on the island. You're good at connecting dots. There were peonies scattered on the floor (Mark is the one to end things with flowers, pleasant as always).

And she's drunk enough to reach for the old shtick. So. Who's the lucky sixty-nine-year-old you've been ruining lately?

My aunt.

Your aunt's dead.

Which would explain why she's been so pleasantly quiet in bed.

She laughs, then she stares at the open window, ruminating:

I had someone. He left his contacts wilted on the bathroom counter, fossilized into half-globes. I'd come home and want to hear about his day - I mean I really wanted to, almost fetishistic, kiss what was left of the razor burn on his neck. He made the worst scrambled eggs. Rubbery, every morning, and I ate them every time. She turns around: ten years of rubber eggs.

What about you, she asks.

I had a woman. You take a sip of the brown she was drinking. She used to argue about the doneness of pancakes and then put her hands up my shirt and call the whole morning menial, and I'd ask: what purpose do we serve. The answer was always: I'm fine right here.

She sits, lets her head rest back against the cushion. Everyone wants somebody to understand their personality and their childhood and what each of those things has done to the other one. That's the scam of it. You show your pale underbelly, turn your ribs inside out, fashion your whole interiority for them and beg them closer, closer than that, even closer - and they get close enough, and then it's - they're already on the other side, and everything's over.

She picks up the bottle and sips. I feel like an alarm. Wailing. That's the humiliation of wanting. Capitalists fooled us into thinking wanting is shameless. Love takes you to shame two times over. 10 years. A scoff at the number.

You're not an alarm.

That's very funny. She stares past you, calculating the whole of you. A lawyer and a venture capitalist with Beckett on the shelf. He'd write us as two people in bins.

I once saw a pigeon on its back, she says. Alive but dying. It blinked at me, tire-smirched, blood-grizzled. I didn't do anything. I should've stepped on its brain. You know why that's sad? Pigeons know how to hurt but don't know how to sin. She drinks. I'm not sad about me. I get exactly what I deserve.

What do you deserve. You ask.

I don't know. Everything terrible. A man who makes bad eggs.

She's close enough now that you get the liquor and under it the her of her, the scalp, the skin, and you think of the skyscraper poem your ex wrote: how we overextend our necks staring at something enormous, like those mornings when someone's still asleep and their face is so calm and wantless and they're not even being a person yet and they're so perfect you want you want you want.

Do we ask the earth for permission? she says. Do we? There are little arachnids living on our eyelashes right now, clearing our pores and mating under the full moon, and their whole lives depend on us, and they never asked and we never asked - do, we, as arachnids, need permission from our earth?

No.

You press a hot hand to her stocking-clad thigh. She presses a flat hand to your chest, slips a whole hand in between the buttons of your shirt, spreads her fingers over the heartbeat.

Do you feel that, you say. Do you feel what you're doing to me.

You hold her hand there until the urge to kiss the fingertips wins - pen-worn hand, redness at the tips from gripping the legal pad all day, nails short and practical. You lift it, kiss one fingertip, and she makes a sound, this small mewl, and leans forward, mouth to your chest through the shirt, your neck, your jaw. You hold still. If you move you'll move wrong. You'll break whatever calculus she's built in her head to let this happen.

How am I supposed to not want you, you say.

What's the difference between you and other men. They're all horrible.

I'm horrible. But I'm here.

Don't be full of yourself. She pulls you in by the tie. You're preposterous

Her fingertips find a piece of twine protruding from a button and incise it. Your mouth on her shoulder. Her spine under your palm. The heft of her hair hooked left, more kisses, the tendon on her neck, the jaw, her mouth again, and she pulled you by the the tie, left and right, kissing whatever remained unkissed - a gesture so old, as old as the grandmother who named an ocean on her grandfather's wrist, who kissed each knuckle, who drew an island into his palm and told him which parts they would share and which they would leave alone - the open brown, the Francis Bacon print on the wall, and to think of her holding you down tugged up the wire of every species on this earth, not the electric inventions, something bigger, a fevered movement across the world, all the trees at once turning dewy -

nothing else matters at all.

stomach-churning pulses grinding through your intestines - and she's between your legs, pressing your legs apart, pulls off her dress shirt, her skirt, all that's remaining: nude bra and panties.

There's a soft unsteadiness in her, the alcohol, the need, the want all combining into this weak-knee'd unsteadiness - you hold her smallest fingers, steady her.

Did you jerk off thinking about me? she asks.

All the fucking time.

She smirks, sinking to her knees, hands bracketing the heat of your thighs. Her hands twist into your trousers.

I want to taste you, the weight of you on my tongue, the stretch. The heat of your cock.

She gently pulls down your trousers all the way, hands tracing the heat of your thighs - ignoring the obvious, the trapped heat.

She reaches up, still kneeling, finds the first button of your shirt, let's a hand go under to feel your warm abs as she unbuttons with one.

Did you do this with Mark, you say.

A smile on her - No, no I didn't. Are you glad?

You sigh with relief -

She grins, splays a hand on your chest, all the buttons off, the heartbeats -

do you feel it Sohyun - do you fucking feel it - you're driving me insane.

She takes a deep breath, breathing you in, the cologne melting off with your sweat, and you dot kisses on her scalp - that flowery shampoo, that smell that's hers, distinctively.

She's easing the lid open on you, finding the kinks in the armor. dotting kisses on your pecs, sitting up, still on her knees, pressing her fingers into soft spots and hard spots alike. She runs her palms down your thighs, closer to your cock, back up again.

You pull her hand into you, hand on her cheek, tilting her head up and pressing your lips onto hers, tonguing at her. Retaliation beckons: she palms your cock, rubs her palm over the heat, working the thin fabric for all it's worth.

She leans forward as she curls fingers over the band of your boxers, kissing the V of your waist, and she trails lower, closer to the heat. And you're pulsing, barely keeping it together and she lets your cock rest next to her neck -

it's so fucking hot

I know, please. you barely let out

please what?

stop fighting me, you're torturing me.

She presses a kiss on the first thick inch she sees:

You're granting me all this control - second inch, fingers curling on the base of your cock. kissing the inches, all the way - and the fingers - wrapped all the way around the thick of it.

it's hard to even close around it. And she's almost relieved.

It's hard to breathe, do you tell her that? Do you tell her that she's ruining you with just her hand staying static around your cock? That her little kisses are already taking you to that extreme?

You're twitching. A venom to her voice.

What do you want? your hands turning white gripping the couch.

I want you to fuck me. fuck my throat, turn me into a whore. I've all this control and it disgusts me.

But before you could process any of it, the sickening thrill of it: she grips harder, lets you throb in her hand, the burn of your cock; and leans forward, dragging her tongue flatly from base to tip in a wet line.

Your thighs tick forward.

And she mewls: I want more of that

She shifts higher, brings her mouth to the head of your cock and lets saliva drip along her tongue.

Pushing, letting it glance unevenly over the head - she flattens her tongue again, drags it over your cock, drags her fingers oh so soft. All this slick, the twist of her wrist, the second hand now closing in around the head of your cock, fist curving tighter over the sensitivity as it slips through all her spit.

And you're losing it: she's turning her wrist near the top, letting it meld into her soft tongue, letting your thick cock hit her tongue once or twice then not again and you can't fucking take it:

please

what?

please - what more can you say? She's trying to end you and it's all self-fulfilling.

you dig your palms into your eyes trying to process, you're already on the edge, twitching, weeping pre-cum onto her tongue and she's taking it all like it's everything to her. like the tears of weeping angels.

Another hip twitch -

this salty-sweet tang of your precum, you're so adorable. And she drags both fists up, spreading the remaining precum all over your cock -

Her mouth connects, sucking hard at the head, gripping tigher with her hands, lips stretched, mouth wide, as she sucks and tries to swallow more of you.

She pops off gently, getting breaths in, letting your weeping corded cock rest on her red-hot lips, before swallowing you back down, all the way until the head of yours bumps the back of her throat.

Relaxes - enough to breathe just a little, your cock still taking space in her throat - pulls your hand all the way to her hair, letting it entangle.

Sohyun's spit-slick, hand lands on top of your hand. And she presses down, like demonstration -

but you yank back, and a girlish yelp leaves her -

You finally coil enough power to get a turn. You pull her up by her armpits - and how light she is, like a fucking doll - you rip the stockings underneath her skirt, let two thick veiny fingers enter her sopping wet pussy.

clit rolling against your rough palm, the wet satin of her panties barely there.

And you scrape your teeth over her neck, sucking a mark onto her, as she bounces desperately over your fingers.

such a little thing, locking her waist into you as you push your fingers even deeper. two fingers trying to tear off her bra. two breasts pressed to your face, a nipple in your mouth.

made to fit me.

Cunt squelching on your palm, head dropping back. And you're sick with it, pulling her underwear to the side to watch her cunt weeping on your fingers.

Kissing all over chest, marking her up with your mouth.

On the bed, you think, sink inside her -

but you grab your cock anyway, dragging your head along the slippery pink of her pussy, and Sohyun moans - all sorts of needy that makes your cock throb, weep outside her.

sink on me, princess.

She sinks, forehead pressed to yours, and she's trying -

Feeling her, the wet and slick and tight - the spasm of her cunt, the clench, the leak of her arousal down your veiny cock.

You're fucking her raw, without a condom, rutting up into her, again and again, and she pushes back gently, trying to find a pace that doesn't utterly ruin her and you're chasing her, fucking her deeper, ruining her little pussy.

Until she presses a soft hand to your shoulder, leaning back, face flushed, nipples pink and hard, stomach tensed.

Stare at her - how fucking ruined she is: swollen lips from sucking your cock like it was made for her, sweat beading down her forehead - god is the sweat running down her face. You kiss the salt-worked forehead - a moment of softness.

Then she rolls gently, slipping a hand between her legs, past your thumb resting on her clit, onto the soaking mess of her, that hot pink mess that she's responsible for -

let me hear you, you growl, to her collar, kissing the blooming hickeys you left earlier.

grab at her hips, sit straighter, pull her into your body, let her wrap her hands around your shoulder - grasp at levity as this goddess is cock-drunk off you, still rolling, offering her clit to your thumb.

And she pants.

Clinging onto you.

letting her sopping cunt cling onto you like this was fucking prophecy - it's hot - sweat beading along your back, between your bodies, sticky - the wet noise of her cunt being excavated by a cock a smidge too large.

You're both close, these petty uncoordinated movements making the orgasm closer - sensitivities reaching an opus - only these little shifts of her hips - the urge to stretch this moment for as long as possible

And only then: the quietest orgasm, stuck to the top of her breasts, barely hanging in there, her waist locked between your thick forearms, cum spreading, filling in whatever was left between you.

poems for fucking:

romantic walks up your arm with my lips dinner on your collarbones, a bottle of wine paper bagged somewhere on your ribs I want to see your city, and by don't take me home just yet I really mean: Let's share a whiskey, take the train over your city, spot the pennies lodged between the pavement - let's make sure every part of your skin's been kiss-bitten and that'll take us a while and if it means anything at all, putting a stamp upside-down means I love you and I would turn over every post office in the world just to show you how much I care.

You wake to the cold half of the bed, and the rest of it makes a grim kind of sense: she's gone. Most of her stuff is still here, her shoes, but her daily shoes - gone.

You call, and it rings and rings until the call cancels - you text and the delivered stays there.

It's a Saturday. There's nowhere a person needs to be on a Saturday - but she's a workaholic - and the dots connect: you drive to her firm.

The weekend guard waves you up on account of being acquainted with Sohyun. And you get to the floor where she's usually working, and there she was, through the glass - neat-clothed, glasses on her, working hard on a case you'd never understand.

She looks up and clocks you, immediately bolting to the men's restroom - not toward the elevators or the stairs. And you go in after her -

Sohyun. I just want to talk

God, listen to you. "I just want to talk" Do you have any idea how many women have said that to your back while you looked for your shoes?

Yes. I'm aware of the irony, it's why I'm standing inside your firm at eight a.m instead of pretending you don't exist.

There's nothing to talk about. We were drunk, it was -

There was a shuffle outside the door - an employee? - but before you could look back, she pulled you by your tie into one of the stalls.

And you were dangerously close to her, her face, this face you've been in love with since forever. The one face that you cannot imagine living without - Listen, you try to say -

and she's off the tiles, fist in your tie, pulling you down, kissing you. Shut up.

You take her face in both hands, gently, and hold her back just far enough that the kiss can't keep doing the talking.

I'm not leaving. I'm going to be the worst thing that ever happened to your avoidance. Kiss me to keep me quiet all you like. I'll enjoy it, I'll still be here when you open your eyes.

Her hands press against your shirt, head pressed to your sternum. She stays there for a moment.

Starts kneeling -

Sohyun. You catch her hands. You dont have to -

I know. She looks up, Let me.

The Castrator, who has never once knelt to a man in her life, lowering herself to the tile of the worst room in the building.

You put a hand in her hair, to hold. The dots connect.

Daddy, she mewls.

Hands in your lap.

There's no sympathy for her. You're in this cramped bathroom with her, your groin pushed up to her face, and all she can say is: Daddy.

Open your mouth

Through the small opening in her mouth, you slot in a finger, trace the lower lip and upper lip - gather spit from the tip of her tongue to glaze her lips.

Wider. You say.

She's just sitting there, rubbing her thighs together - like she isn't so fucked and slippery in her underwear that just a small touch could make her cum - that you pressing a finger into her mouth - letting her throat close around that digit - wouldn't make her burst into decibels and let the whole town know that you are fucking her dumb.

She's staring at how you unbutton your pants. Button by button, all the way until your cock's out half-mast diagonal to her face and she's fucking drooling. Slowly moving forward and you pin her head to the wall of the bathroom stall.

How do you want this dick?

Like how you fucked all those other girls.

You think I'm not enjoying every moment with you? That day, we fucked like lovers. You cup her cheeks with one hand and her glazed lips point out duck-like. I'll show you what I like.

You bundle two fingers - index and ring - down her mouth, until her throat closes and she half-gags. Eyes fill with these tears and she tries to straighten herself. Fingers still down there, and it makes it hard for her breathe but -

She's fucking climaxing, barely keeping her hands on her lap. A breathless moan escapes her and you take this opportunity to let your fingers in deeper. Her chest jerks, a tear goes down her left cheek as your knuckles bump her teeth.

Roughly: good girl.

White-knuckled against her spit-trickled dress shirt that won her millions in lawsuits. Just then, you pull your fingers out, and she finally gets to swallow down.

You should be able to price anything. Be cutthroat about it, hedge your potential losses, then hedge on top of them - that's the only way to win. You've seen people go full-in, bet their futures on a life they so desperately deserve and by the end of it, they're lost souls, begging for the past. You thought it made you the only adult in the room. Then the day after that you came inside her and everything crumpled.

Your spit-slick fingers wrapped around your cock and you fisted it gently, just inches away from her mouth. She couldn't help but move forward, but you pin her head again and she's completely mindless - obeying any mechanic of hers that'll grant her a feather of stimulus. You tap your cock against her tongue. You could see the way her lips twitched to close, but she seemed to contextualize enough to know that anything that you didn't allow would be swiftly punished. And maybe now everything was dawning on her:

That you enjoyed sex with her rather than the opposite - that it's supposed to be as intimate as the day you came inside her.

Because this? This was heady, broken, and embarrassing - and all of it was happening in her own office bathroom that she shares with subordinates. One mistake and she's kicked off the ladder. And yet:

I want all of it. I want it. I want it.

You could see how her cloudy eyes mechanized - she was about to cum again - you let your tip on her tongue and she's already around the cycle again. You press the heft of your shaft into her mouth and push in gently. Push in gently because she already came, push in gently because you want to savor - for a few moments longer - how she crumples under you.

You're gentle with it, letting her set the pace, letting her get breaths between strokes. She anchors herself, and this control you give her makes her shiver - even the way her throat clenches when she goes too fucking deep.

She pulls back to breathe, a strand of saliva still connects your tip and her lower lip. And she's staring at the corded red-tipped shaft, speechless.

Stand up

She does, her skirt crumpled just a way's up. She's expectant, wanting something. But this wasn't a day for her wants.

You grab the waistbands of her panties and nylon, pull it down midway and her pussy's just glistening - all-pink, heady, musky, almost pulsing.

Hold your skirt up

And she does, further surrendering to your hand around her throat. And everything was a bit clearer:

You began fisting your spit-slick cock again, pointed down to her panties. Another embarrassing and heady position she can't seem to get enough of: Her eyes are full of will-you's and wants that she can't act on. You press a thumb over her pulse - grunting more hunch-backed trying to not spray your cum too early - and you tighten, tighten until she grips your forearms and loses her breath for just a second - then you release. There's this rush of inhales and exhales as she catches some air and you repeat the choke - until, just until, you press harder than you've done before - her legs going loose, eyes going to back of her head - and you cum all over her panties. Cloudy liquid dotting her skirt, the floor, the nylon , the front of her pussy, and all over the panties.

Fuck.

Is all she says, can say. You pin her jaw to the side so that she can't look at you, only the door, the cruel door that may open for a coworker - and you jolt closer, scooping a bit of your cum and letting two fingers enter her just then. And she's already climaxing, screaming in her own hand.

This is what happens when I do what I want.

Your nose is buried into her exposed throat and your fingers throttling her pussy. your callused hand scraping the hood of her clit, your hooked finger rubbing that spot that makes her legs splinter half-way. You take your fingers out and mash the front of her pussy with the heel of your palm before going into her again. She's rolling with how your cum-slicked fingers penetrate her.

Her body finally gives out and that's when you hug her, your fingers still slotted into her.

In truth, I can't fuck you the way I fucked these other girls. Your fingers finally slow their rolls. I want to enjoy my time with you, not treat you like trash.

And her reply, as best as it could be presented: a wet kiss, hands wrapped around you, grasping the hair behind your head.

Her kiss fluttered gently as you finally let her have one final climax.

I love you.

You look behind her, and thankfully, no one’s around except her.

“When will the shooting start? Why the hell is there a delay!?” You dragged her inside the exit.

“IVE members and your agency already gave their assurance. Sorry for the delay; we’re just tweaking some technical issues.” She apologized.

“But, why are you here? IVE’s looking for you, specifically Wonyoung. She’s panicking, actually more like tantrums— sorry, I’m just used to people calling her a brat.” She told you.

“I know, but she’s a good girl, trust me.” You assured her that Wonyoung’s a really, really bad— good girl.

Now, you feel bad pressing on her. She’s not the issue; the shooting delay’s not the issue; it’s because of IVE.

You’re IVE’s newest playth— Manager. Unlike any other manager who’s staying with their idols and prepared to give all that they need, you’re different.

You’ve been hiding from them, and there’s a very specific reason for that.

You can’t just give them what they want.

What they really want is you, specifically, your manliness. You’re IVE’s newest plaything.

“...”

“Okay, please, don’t tell them where I am—” You plead for the staff to remain quiet about your whereabouts.

“Oh, there you are. Oppa, Wonyoung needs the mic.” Yujin speaks behind you.

“Okay, let me… WHOA! YUJIN!” You turned around and found the towering idol with her crossed arms.

“Hi, oppa, so you were here. Why are you hiding?” She waved; I bet there’s anger behind her puppy eyes.

“I’m not hiding, w-w-why would I?” You stuttered; if they knew that you were avoiding them, they would definitely put a leash on you.

“Uhhh, Yujin-ssi, I already brought the mic to the dressing room—” The staff said, giving Yujin’s assurance about the microphone.

“Unnie, you can go now.” She looks irritated.

If the staff leave… you’ll be left with a wild dog.

She’s untamed; her hunger has never been fulfilled once; she’ll eat you the moment you're alone.

“Okay, then—” She’s leaving.

“Uhh! Uhh…” You stopped her, but you don’t know what to say. You can’t tell her that Yujin’s a vacuum devil.

“Yes?” The staff actually stopped and waited.

“Yes, Op…pa.” Yujin smiles a warning sign.

You’ve been caught already, so there’s no point in fighting back.

“N-nothing. Please… no more delays.” Your last words for the staff.

“We'll do our best, then… excuse me.” The staff disappeared instantly.

“...”

“...”

“HAAA!” You shrieked when Yujin’s hand touched your shoulder. She’s like a snake that’s playing with its food.

“Oppa, you’re tense. Don’t be like that~” Her nails pressed through the fabric of your shirt hard enough to pin you against the wall.

Just like what they say, whenever you encounter a wild beast, don’t move.

“Why are you running?” She leaned in, her head next to yours.

The snake’s hissing.

“N-n-no, why would I? You know, Yujin, I thought you were a puppy… but you look like a snake.” You just threw a joke at her, but she didn’t laugh.

You tried to get away from her, but her hands are too strong for you.

“Oppa, do you think I’m joking right now? You know I can be any kind of animal if I have to just to have my turn~” She purred directly to your ear.

“Y-Y-Yujin-ah, there might be someone—”

“There’s no one here except us.” She cut you off instantly.

She finally released your shoulders. You had the urge to run, but you could sense the danger from her.

She now turned into a grizzly bear, and you had to bear with it even though there’s a chance you’ll be bare naked in no time.

This animal shape-shifting beast.

“Wonyoun’s wanted the mic, let me—” Right, Wonyoung’s much better than being with her.

“TURN. AROUND.” There’s a noticeable power in her words.

You turn around like what she told you.

She kneeled in no time, unbuckled your belt and pants. Slid it down without your consent, but they didn’t need it; they’ll do anything they want to you, even if you refuse.

She tugged your underwear down, and your cock sprang free; it’s hard enough to reach her face and land on her nose.

“Omo, you’re hiding from us, but you’re hard as a rock.” She looks so happy.

The moment she saw your hard rod, her face never dropped once.

“Wonyoung has to wait for her mic, and Oppa, do you know how much our fans wanted us, right? You’re actually lucky to have us chasing you for this… hard… thing–huehuhehiehe~” She immediately put your dick into her mouth and bobbed her head.

“Hng~ Y-Yujin-ah, Won-Wonyoung’s waiting.” You held her head, but you couldn’t stop her head from bobbing.

“Hmm~ wits wokey woppa–huehuehu, shwe wownt wow (It’s okay oppa, she won’t know.).” Yujin’s tongue sweeps your entire rod. Her oral warmth and sucking skills are unmatched,

“B-but, Yu– shit! I’m cumming!” You groaned, she’s way too good that you can’t even hold yourself.

“HMMPP~” She stopped bobbing, her lips touched your balls and your dick near to her throat.

You erupted, straight to her throat. You heard her gulping as if she were just drinking some lemonade. This is the vacuum you were saying, even you were cumming, she keeps sucking in. Draining everything you had.

But, Wonyoung’s gonna be mad.

Someone got her microphone before her, and worse is that there’s a possibility that there’s no more cum left for her.

Suck. Suck. Gulp.

“Yujin… hngg.” It’s been a minute since you came, and yet Yujin’s sucking pressure remained.

There’s no more to suck at the moment.

“Oppa, have some ginseng. I’ll buy you some.” She finally let your softened dick go. Her wicked smile is terrifying.

“Ohh~ how cute, oppa, it looks like an elephant trunk.” She pokes it.

You just came, but seeing her pretty face makes your dick alive. Every touch she made, your dick twitched.

“Ohh~ now it looks like an electric eel, I feel an electrifying energy within me when I touch it— hey, oppa, where are you going!?”

You'd better go away before your dick electrifies more of that so-called energy. There’s no doubt about it, she’s talking about her horny energy.

“W-W-Wony!” You ran away from that animal, fixing your pants in the process.

IVE’s dressing room is not that far, just a couple of floors and a minute's walk. But you took your time, you need to regain your lost energy, or else Wonyoung will throw tantrums.

“Oppa.” Rei spotted you.

Compared to Yujin, Rei is more reserved and calm.

“R-R-Rei-ya, is Wonyoung’s inside?” You asked her, stalling for more time.

“Yes, she’s been looking for you for some time now…Sniff. Sniff. Wait a minute—— “ Rei squints her eyes.

“Rei-ya. I—” You’ve been caught, again.

“You just came… on someone.” Her guest is always spot on. She kept sniffing you; her cute face was just inches away from you,

It made you hard, just what you need before heading to Wonyoung.

“How’d you know!?” You act surprised, but that’s no surprise anymore.

There’s this moment she caught that you face fucked Liz before her turn, similar to what happened today. Then another moment when your dick was only half hard when you’re about to have sex with her, she guessed it right that Gaeul rode you in the car a moment ago.

Rei’s the Nostradamus of IVE when it comes to their plaything.

“Wonyoung will be mad,” Rei states a fact.

“I know— HHNNGG~ W-what are you doing!?” You immediately looked around. Thankfully, there was no one except you and Rei.

Rei just cupped your dick through your pants, she fondled it, and your boner raged in an instant.

“Helping you, Wonyoung always thought she was the prettiest. It’s better to enter the dressing room with your dick hard. It will give her a great impression.” Rei’s surprisingly calm when explaining it.

“H-hard… I’m hard enough.” You hold Rei’s wrist, a few more gropes, and you’ll end up cumming again.

“Hmm, should I just put it in my ass?” Rei crossed her arms, thinking.

No way, you need to go to Wonyoung.

“I-I need to go to Wony, remember, schedule.” You hurriedly walked away from Rei while she was still thinking.

“No, put it in— AHH!” She attempted to stop you, but you suddenly cupped her crotch.

Her knees instantly gave up. You’ve been in bed with her a couple of times already, and you knew what part of her weakens her.

“Cheating!” She shouts, her voice fainting as you walk your way to Wonyoung’s dressing room.

After another minute of walking, you’re finally in front of the room.

“Hooo, better end it quickly.” You finally made up your mind.

You took a deep breath before coming in.

“...”

The room is quiet, and there she is, sitting in front of the mirror, eyes on her phone.

“Won–” 

“OPPA!” She instantly looked around and plunged herself into you for a hug,

“Sorry, I just had to kgh—” Your mouth stopped.

She immediately choked your throat with her slender fingers, both hands.

“Where did you go?” She asked you flatly; she’s towering over you as well, just like Yujin.

“Kghhh– r-r-rest room–” You answered, looking up to her. She’s gripping your neck, enough to let you suffer, and keeps you alive.

“Too long for a restroom, open your mouth.” She ordered you.

You did as she told, opening your jaw slowly as the constrictions on your neck lightly loosened.

“Liar.” She said,

Then she spits into your mouth. A sharp bullet of spit landed on your tongue.

You can’t call it disgusting. Her beautiful face makes it more like a blessing, but spit is a spit.

“Sooowwy.” You apologize. Her spit slowly slides into your throat.

“You looked… drained. Who is it? Gaeul? Leeseo? Liz? Who dares to use my microphone before me!?” She missed the person who did it to you.

“Its—”

The moment you answered, she spat again. Her timing’s late, her spit landed the moment you closed your mouth. It landed through your lips.

“Tch. Missed. Lick it.” She told you.

“Hmmm!” You don’t want to. You shook your head, eye wide open at how absurd she wants you to do.

“Lick it.” She repeats it. You don’t want her to say it three times.

You licked it. Your tongue sweeps her bubbly spit around your lips. You’ve got a better taste of her saliva this time; it tastes like cherry. She must have taken candy while waiting for you.

“Who is it?” She’s dead serious about finding out who played with her toy.

“Yujin…” You answered her truthfully.

“That girl, everyone doesn’t respect the schedule!” She scoffed.

“Stick your tongue out.” She added.

Without hesitation, you followed her. There’s no point of contemplating whether to obey her or not. She had control over you.

“Hmm~” She stuck her tongue as well and intertwined with mine, slithering with each other like an oiled rope.

“I’m no longer interested in a used mic. Did someone ever claim your mouth?” She momentarily pulled back.

“N-N-No one… I guess?” You’ve kissed all IVE members, but no one ever claimed your mouth as theirs.

“Then your mouth is mine from now on. Your lips, your tongue, and your spit. In exchange, my lips are yours, my tongue and my spit.” Wonyoung has decided to make it mutual.

Do you have a choice? None.

She kissed you right away after you nodded, a confirmation for her to eat you. Her lips are soft, enough justification for how glossy it looks like when on camera. Her tongue interlocked with yours, and your fluids swapped.

Bit by bit, you matched their hunger. You cupped her ass, always felt a little fuller than usual. She loves showing it, a couple of months ago, her smooth, peachy, cute ass.

“Hnng~ do you want to put it in?” She purred through the kiss.

“Where?” 

“In my ass.” She released your neck and put her hands through the wall.

You circled your way behind her, and she stuck her ass out.

“Wonyoung, but this is your stage outfit.” You hesitated since she’s already on her shooting fit; any moment from now, they might call her.

“It’s easy as one, two, three.” She slowly counts.

One, she unbuckled her buttons. Two, she pulled her shorts down. Three, her underwear.

There it is, the holy grail. Peachy ass from the cherry girl.

“Wonyoung-ah…” Your dick twitched.

“Put it in, oppa… hurry.” She used her left hand to spread her cheeks. Her pink puckered hole looks very inviting.

You lined it up on her ass. The head kissed her entrance; it slowly opened up, welcoming the intruder with its warm greeting.

“AHHH~ Oppa~ Yes~” Wonyoung placed both of her hands on the wall, her nails scraping through the paint.

You’re both struggling on every inch of penetration. Bit by bit, her ass wall stretches and adapts to your length.

“Yes~ hmm~” She pushed her ass towards you, hurriedly putting it in.

“W-W-WONYOUNG! AHHH~” You let out a moan.

It’s finally in, your dick fully nestled in the depths of her anus. She let out a loud moan as well, hoping no one heard it.

“AHH~”

“HMNNG!”

You started to thrust slowly, eventually increasing the speed. You just noticed that you’re fucking her ass without any lubrication, it cause some resistance, especially the friction made by your rubbing skin.

But, does it matter? What matters is you’re fucking Wonyoung in the ass.

“AHH!” Wonyoung’s moan is telling you she’s enjoying it.

“Wonyoung-ah… I’m close.” You told her, while grunting in between your thrusts.

Her ass rippled with every impact of your hips. Loud slaps echoed through the dressing room.

“Inside, I want to feel your cum inside my a-a-ahngg-ass while performing~.”

You heard her crystal clear.

Cum inside Wonyoung’s ass, that’s her order.

“C-Cumming!” For one final thrust, your hips closed the gap. Her smooth butt pressed against your hips.

You came inside her ass just like what she told you to. Burst after burst, think gooey cum flood her anus. She wants to perform with it, as your manager, you’re obliged to grant what she wants.

After a few more eruptions, your dick stopped spitting cum.

You slowly pull it out.

Floods of thick cum instantly sipped out of her asshole. Her puckered hole is still slightly agape in memory of your hard rod.

“Oppa… that’s so hot.” Wonyoung fell on her knees. She’s flushed red.

Both of you hurriedly cleaned and tidied up, while fixing both of your clothes, she asked you.

“Oppa, what’s the schedule?”

“Uhh, music bank tomorrow, then radio show the next day.” You answered right away, closing your zipper and buttoning up your pants.

“Not that, your schedule to us.” Wonyoung crossed her arm.

She went back to her bratty side in no time, as if you didn’t cum in her ass a while ago.

“Ah, that… uhh, I’ll eat Liz’s pussy later, then I’ll pound Rei’s ass as well. Then tomorrow I’ll wreck Yujin’s pussy, and Gaeul requested to fuck her face next time.” You told her the plaything schedule.

Today’s her day, so she had to wait for another three to four days for her next turn.

“Tch. WHY DO I HAVE TO WAIT THAT LONG!?” She’s annoyed.

Well, all of them had the same reaction whenever they found out that they had to wait a few more days to satisfy their needs.

Then, Wonyoung, be ready. The shoot may start anytime.”

“Yes, Oppa, your semen inside me boosts me up~” She cheerfully responds.

It’s a weird thing to say, but it feels good, really good.

The moment you opened the door. The girls are there; they looked concerned about something.

“Is it done?” Gaeul asked.

“Y-yes.” You responded.

Then a staff member approached you and IVE. You’ve got a feeling about it, since the staff immediately bowed their heads.

“I’m sorry, the tweaking’s not done yet. Could you wait for another hour?” She told me very bad news.

“I, uhh—”

“YES!” The girls instantly answered in unison.

“We’ll wait inside the dressing room,” Liz assured the staff that they’re fine with the delay.

But, you’re not.

Another delay means another play for them.

“Miss— HMP! HMMM! HMMMFF!” Yujin instantly muffled your mouth.

Together with Gaeul and Liz, they dragged you inside the room.

Rei and Leeseo closed the door for you, and the lock sounds audible for some reason.

They sealed you inside the dressing room; your fate had been decided.

RIP, rest in plaything.

It's Friday, and this rooftop bar feels good at night. The fact that there's no sun to set your skin ablaze certainly does help. There is chatter happening behind the two of you, though you're not swayed from this ethereal woman standing in front of you. Her hair is a gorgeous black, with her pointy ears poking out on the sides.

"You can ask — ice-breaking and all."

"What if I say something offensive?"

"I'll tell you."

Her eyes are cute. They're alternating between yours and the amber-tinted drink in her hand. The crop top leaves her toned midriff exposed to the summer night, and the jeans outline her legs well. You feel a bit despondent about your outfit choice tonight — a basic black long sleeves, a pair of cargo pants — but it's like the fashion for men is diverse.

"What are you working on right now?" Minju asks.

"It's a website — another website. It looks different from the last one, but I see nothing because I work on the backend," and you shrug. "I thought you'd be more personal with the questions."

Minju chuckles. You notice her ears twitching slightly. "I'm more vulgar than offensive, actually."

You raise your eyebrows a bit, but there's also this curiosity to gamble on her next words. Alas, she's pretty enough for you to tolerate her questions. "Morbid curiosity — how vulgar are we talking?"

Minju downs the drink suddenly — probably about eclipsing that shyness. She makes an almost painful expression as a result of whatever is going on in her esophagus.

"So," and it's almost a squeal from Minju, "when you give a blowjob, blood is flowing to your partner's dick, right? Have you ever had the urge to, like, bite into it and suck the blood out with your fangs?"

You blink, and there's almost a gasp leaving your mouth. "That was simultaneously vulgar and offensive."

Minju gives you an awkward smile. "Yeah, sorry, I'll see myself out now." She takes a step backward, so ready to leave you alone tonight.

"I can't answer that because I've never sucked a dick," and you smile, stopping her departure. "I guess I could ask you something filthy too?"

"Oh," and Minju tilts her head a little. "If you wanna make it even, sure."

"Alright." You take a deep breath, almost not believing the words that are about to come out of your mouth. "Have you ever gotten your dick sucked by a vampire?"

—

Minju's room is basic, to be honest. She doesn't seem to be the decorative type, aside from her family photo and a few Ikea plushies supporting her back right now. You notice her headphones having bigger ear cushions than yours. It helps with prolonged use to not have her ears folded and ruin their shapes.

"How the fuck am I going to tell the doctor if you actually bite into my dick?" and Minju laughs. Her hand is ruffling your hair tenderly as you kiss the tip of her cock continuously. It's twitching against your lips. Her hard nipples are visible under the crop top.

"Snakebite on the toilet?" you joke back, only to realize that the situation is actually possible. You've heard one of your friends having a snake slithering through the pipe before.

Minju lets out another chuckle. "That works, I guess."

"I wore braces back in high school, if that helps," you tell her with your mouth still warming her tip. "Was a pain to get rid of the blood after drinking though."

"Lucky that you didn't suck dicks back then."

"At least cum blends in with the color of my teeth?"

Minju ponders your words for a bit as you slide your hand on her cock languidly. She throbs in your palm with a consistent rhythm, with your warm breath over her skin. "It's too dark and I'm too drunk to see your teeth, so I'll believe that they're seminal white."

You just laugh heartily before wrapping your lips around Minju's shaft again. She moans quietly at the pillowy sensation of you, grasping your hair a tad tighter. You let your tongue lap the underside of her in your mouth. Her woody perfume fills your nostrils along with the slight sweat from your walk back together.

"Wow, fuck, you're good," Minju whines, putting force into the back of your head harsher than before. You force yourself down her cock further until she begins to probe the back of your throat. There are these gagging and retching sounds coming from your neck, and you just keep pushing until your lips touch her pubic bone.

Your eyes become all teary from the struggle against Minju's cock nudging your pharynx — just a few millimeters past your uvula. Regardless of the discomfort, you slide your tongue all over her length, lathering your spit and leaking drool all over. Minju just moans shamelessly, letting her voice echo inside her medium-sized apartment. Let's hope her neighbors work at night.

You decide to pull back a bit eventually, having your lips dragged along her foreskin and prompting louder groans from Minju. Then, you push back in, and it just becomes a wet loop between your fangy mouth and her shaven cock. There's utterly zero desire to sink your fangs into her skin and suck the blood out of her. It's not really a crime — an accident between a vampire's mouth and a person — but you'd rather drink her cum right now.

"Fuck," Minju rasps, mind all scattered and starting to control the pace of your head with her hand. Her hips are thrusting up into your mouth instinctively as well, jabbing your throat in a repeated motion. You're choking and struggling to breathe, obviously. But her elated expression — watched through these tears — it's giving you the energy to make Minju pump her seed into you.

There are some risks associated with getting a blowjob from an individual with fangs, of course, but there's also the thrill of the danger of your sharpness teasing her foreskin like this. Moreover, despite all the technologies, it's still a rare occurrence to get into this situation — getting a vampiric blowjob as a non-vampiric person. You haven't met many solar folks in this city since your graduation. Park Minju is getting one of the unique heads of her life here.

"Hey, hey, can I try something with you?" and Minju loosens her hold on the back of your head.

You get off her cock for an inquiry, and there's your drool all over. "What is it?"

"Can I take a photo?" Minju asks with a toothy smile, and you're nervous, to be honest. It's definitely weird to have yourself photographed by someone you just met, especially when you're sucking their cock.

Minju knows the weight of the situation, however, and she continues, "It's a polaroid, and I'll give it to you."

You blink, still unsure of the ins and outs of the situation. "A picture of me sucking your dick?"

"A picture of us!" Minju persuades. "You appear in a polaroid, right?"

"I appear on my iPhone camera, so I guess so? Why would you wanna do this, though? You get nothing here."

"I'm a photographer at heart," Minju says with a smile. "I'd be one if I'm not in healthcare."

You smile as well. "Do I have to pose?"

—

You lying down on your back really makes her cock hitting awfully deep inside your throat.

"Place your hand on your neck," Minju instructs, also gently bringing your hand there as well. Her palm is soft against the back of your fingers. "Feel me."

The sensation is overwhelming — her perfume and sweat, her girth, her face through your tears. You're shaking and choking on her cock desperately, though you're doing nothing — thigh squeeze to abort — to stop her from ravaging your body like this.

Minju pushes herself deep into you. And when your hand is on your own neck, you can feel it being stretched by her length. She's stealing your air, and you're more than ecstatic to let her do that. Under her hand, you're touching the bulge from Minju's cock.

"Tell me if it's too much."

You give her just a weak smile — something close to it. You can still breathe at half capacity, and she's gorgeous enough for her dick to earn a place inside you. Her hand trembles on top of yours, and you know she's reveling in this as much as you are.

She reaches for the polaroid camera sitting beside you on her bed, eventually. Her dexterity is to be admired — her hardness in your throat, one hand on your neck, the other hand holding a camera. She messes with the device a bit before lifting it up high. You're both going into this photo.

"This should work," Minju says, not moving her hips by a single bit. Her cock is still putting your throat to work here. She looks away from you — aesthetic reasons — and you see a flash coming from the camera.

The device cries softly as it prints out the image. Minju drags herself out of your throat, letting you bask in the ridges and veins on her cock. Your spit falls down to the floor, and it's a goddamn mess down there. Her dick glistens against the coppery light from her bedside lamp. And with her beauty, they just complement each other perfectly.

"I'll put it here," Minju states, and she places the photo on the bedside table. "Don't forget to take it when you're leaving!"

"Sure," you respond weakly, hand still finding the missing bump in your throat subconsciously. "You should fuck me again now, though."

Minju giggles happily. "Do you want some fuckery with that as well?"

"What kind of fuckery?" and you tilt your head. It's a weird angle upside down, but you think she gets the sentiment.

Minju grins, and she slides the tip of her cock on your lips. You open your mouth. She's making a bulge inside you again in a heartbeat.

This time, however, it's a tad fancier.

You feel her shaft getting warmer. It feels like drinking a mushroom soup that has been out of the pot for a minute. At one point, you're afraid that she's going to set your throat ablaze with her cock, but the temperature stabilizes at a comfortable level for you.

"My friend taught me this in college. They just told me how to do it with my fingers, but I also messed around with it a bit."

You only see her balls glowing in a yellowish shade, but you figure that the entire organ is probably shining. Your hand hovers over your neck, and there's some light glowing out of you.

"I think it's visually sexy," Minju says sultrily. "Seeing my fat cock doing wonders to your throat."

You hum back as a response, trying to make it sound like you're satisfied with the act.

"Thanks," and Minju giggles. "Elves just don't have that much power for magic. This is probably the best I could do."

You pick up the camera beside you and hand it to her. There's a desire to see how your throat is faring with Minju nestling and glowing inside it. To be captured in a piece of film invokes something within you, it seems.

"One, two, three!"

The device cries softly again as it prints the image out slowly. Minju stashes it along with the first photo, and the proper fucking in your throat resumes.

Minju slides her cock in and out of your mouth, and you're helplessly drooling all over her floor. You shudder every time she hilts inside you, yet you don't attempt a single thigh squeeze to halt her rough movements. She moans and grunts above you almost ferociously. There's a flash in your mind of her deep voice being attractive.

Your hand feels your own throat getting bulged repeatedly in a punishing fashion. The light is still there, and you're pretty sure that Minju is feasting at the sight of her luminous hardness stretching you open. You're going to have the remnant in your cabinet soon as well.

"Your fangs grazing my cock, God — such an anatomy hazard."

Minju keeps her pace consistent, using your throat to drive herself towards the precipice. Her cock throbs and pulses inside you violently, so eager to feed you her sperm. She places a hand on your throat along with yours, finding the heat scorching under your skin.

You feel a spurt of liquid inside you, finally, accompanied by a guttural groan from Minju. She gushes cum down your esophagus carelessly, and you don't even get to taste her on your tongue. It's a forceful feeding — one you're too happy to decline. Her whole body thrashes against your lips, and she twitches countless times before coming down from the unbelievable high.

Minju breathes exhaustedly as her cock softens in your mouth, turning back into a flaccid state. You lap the remnants of her semen leaking from her slit. It's a small sample, but you give feedback regardless.

"Yum."

Minju chuckles above you while pulling herself out of your orifice. She kneels in front of you, and she's just that pretty even when you're upside down.

"It's just pineapples," Minju whispers.

"I don't think it's a seasonal fruit."

"You want more? Are we doing this again?" and Minju laughs, fondling your cheek tenderly.

"I know I'm drunk as fuck," and a feeble cough, "but definitely, maybe."

—

"I can't go home when the sun's up," you whine, shifting in Minju's bed under the blanket. "I'll disintegrate."

"You wanna be dicked down again, I see," and Minju giggles under her blanket as well. Her ears are twitching slightly. "I don't have blood in the fridge for you, though. Didn't expect to fuck a vampire at my place."

"I could just order it," you breeze. "And thanks for letting me stay and, well, that."

Minju smiles warmly. "You're welcome. I still wonder one thing, though."

"What is it?"

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.”