Girl group smut stories (F Idol/M reader)

The shack is small, built for storing tools for crops that aren’t in season. Old wood, thin steel roof; the rain patters against it loud enough that you both have to raise your voices just to make sense of what the other is saying—which, you realize, might become a problem for Gaeul later.

You set the boxes down, a few books you were supposed to give out to the kids in her community. Fortunately—dry.

She stops wringing out her hem.

“You managed to wrap them?”

“Well, it was that or my shirt.”

Gaeul playfully glares at you for a second, then puts both hands over her face. “You’re so annoying, you know.”

Suddenly, a breeze starts letting itself into the tiny shack. You see Gaeul shivering so hard that her teeth are making sounds like the ones you hear in the cartoons. There’s a nail sticking out of the beam above you, and you both look at it at the same time.

“We should,” she says.

“Yeah.”

Eleven months together, and she still turns her back before she starts unbuttoning her top. You still turn as well—not something you’ve discussed before, so it just felt natural.

You hang both of your tops on one nail. The moment you turn around, you see Gaeul with her arms crossed over her chest, and her ears have gone red.

“Why are you looking?”

“Well, this shack is quite small, and you’re the only pretty thing in this tiny space.”

“I see where your eyes are focusing, you know.” She snorts, uncrosses her arms to hit your shoulder—instantly remembers why she has them crossed in the first place, so she re-crosses them.

You look at the ceiling.

She gives you a tiny smirk. “Come here.”

Not a second wasted, you approach her. She’s cold against your chest, forehead pressed into your collarbone, and you feel her get comfy and stop shaking.

“Oppa.”

“Yeah?”

“Your heart’s beating really fast.”

“Well—”

She lifts her head and looks at you with her glimmering eyes—still the same eyes that you adored when you first met her; still the orbs that lit up your world when you were feeling down.

You kiss her. The sound she makes the moment your lips touch reminds you of your first kiss the night you asked her to be yours—small, surprised, and seemingly satisfied. Nothing about her is loud, yet the specks of noise she makes reverberate through your heart the loudest.

You lead her to a nearby crate just by the corner. You sit on it—it’s comfortable enough, and Gaeul just follows out of instinct—one knee after another, settling over your thighs until she’s straddling you. Both bodies perfectly cuddling each other inside a tiny shack, sitting on a flimsy wooden crate.

She doesn’t say anything—just looks at you, hands on your shoulders, hair dripping onto your collarbone. Her eyes give you comfort like a warm blanket covering your soul even on the stormiest days.

“Let me warm you up,” she says.

Her fingers start working at your belt—patient and careful about it. She’s preparing you like how she prepares her tea; like a precious ceremony that actually means something. There’s really no reason to hurry her because—like anything she does, everything becomes something worth waiting for.

After removing the remainder of your clothing, she pushes her underwear to the side, lining herself against you. You feel her slick wetness, totally a different sensation from the moisture brought about by the rain. It coats your cockhead, lubricating and preparing you for the warmth and tightness of her cunt.

She sinks—slowly, bottoming out until her waist meets yours. You let her breathing catch up to the motion. You feel her velvety slick walls slowly engulf your length and the heat between your two bodies heightens. Everything about her is warm even when technically both your skin is cold to the touch. 

“God, your—your cock is—so per—perfect, oppa.” She gasps, struggling to complete her words. Each syllable she lets out, you feel her walls tightening almost in tandem. “I hope the rain doesn’t stop for a while.”

“Your pussy feels…so good, Gaeul—it’s so fucking addicting.”

“I want to just keep fucking you this way, Oppa.”

She starts to move. Slow at first—hands braced on your shoulders, hips rolling forward and back, and the sensation of her tight walls around your cock as she does this brings you infinitely great pleasure. 

Your hands grip her ass—squeeze it hard to help you contain yourself.

“Oppa~ Don’t squeeze me too hard.”

“I’m sorry, Gaeul, you feel so fucking good, I might just lose it immediately if I don’t.”

Her hair is all messy now—it’s all over the place. Amidst the strands covering her face, her lips still manage to find yours. Locking her plump lips and letting her tongue frolic with yours. She tastes so good pressed against your lips—notes of tangerine and loose-leaf tea, sweet as the drinks that she likes.

She starts moaning now, still shy about it. Her moans slip out between the sound of the rain as your dick reaches the farthest places inside of her—pounding her in uneven beats, getting lost in the precious sensation of her.

“Nobody can hear you out here, my dear.”

“I’m cu—I’m cumming, oppa.”

“Let it all out, I’m cumming too.”

She lets go of all of it at once—her head tips back, mouth open, and you hear her scream your name louder than you have ever heard her scream it. It’s so loud the rain doesn’t stand a chance—what used to be the one drowning your voices is now just background noise to the sweet, sweet voice of your girlfriend, and it fills the whole shack.

Her pace breaks—tempo isn’t even consistent anymore. She stops caring about rhythm. Her nails dig into your shoulders, marking them red, and she milks your cock, making sure your own orgasm feels as good as hers.

It does, it’s her—so of course it does. Thick ropes of your seed shoot inside of her walls, painting her womb white; streaks of it leak out of her pussy lips, which now drip on your legs. You let out a groan that matches her volume, and you squeeze her ass cheeks hard enough to leave marks—you’ll deal with the repercussions of that when you get back home.

She holds your face while it happens, looking at you like an achievement she deserved—refusing to look away while you come apart, even when she’s also still shaking—even as you spill your seed into her and she clamps down around you.

Then it’s just the rain and the two of you in the tiny shack. Warm and covered in sweat, rain, and parts of you with cum. You stayed like that for a while, no one bothering to get up.

Eventually, into your hair with a sigh of relief: “Oppa, it finally stopped.”

The splatters dissipate, and the sun comes out. “It finally did, huh?”

You both put on your damp clothes, pick up the boxes, check inside—making sure they’re still dry, all of them—and carry them between you the whole way back to the car.

“Good thing the books didn’t get wet.”

Which is why, when you are foraging the streets of Gangnam, and a barely readable, run-down flyer offers you a cleaner job for a twelve-member kpop group, you grab the opportunity by the balls.

How hard can it be? How hard will it be to clean up after—hang on, what are they called again?

LOONA.

Riiight—twelve girls named after the moon; the thing that makes dogs howl like crazy at the sky and gave us the word loonatic—or was it spelled something else?

Anyways, you start Monday.

“Yaaa! Someone’s outside!” A woman screams from inside the building. “Can someone answer the door?!” You swear these ladies would be racking up noise complaints in a more normal neighborhood—luckily they’re not in one. This block is more desolate than your wallet.

The dorm seems decently sized; you’re predicting six bedrooms? Entertainment companies aren’t exactly famous for respecting their idols’ basic human rights, so that math probably works.

The door opens before you knock for the third time.

“Hii~”

Ah. She’s gorgeous—fuck, of course she is. You should have expected this. A girl wearing an oversized hoodie, round glasses, bare face, and unkempt hair. She’s cute, the type of cute that you would like to put inside your pocket, bring home, and cuddle with.

“Hi, I’m—”

“Oh, you’re our new cleaner!”

“Yes, nice to meet you, I’m—”

“I’m Heejin, come in!” She opens the door and signals you in, not letting you finish introducing yourself. “Sorry, our schedule’s kinda inconsistent recently, so not everyone’s here to introduce themselves to you.” She steps aside and lets you get situated.

“It’s fine.” You set down your equipment, remove your shoes, and look up.

You’ve cleaned houses before—usually it’s easy to eyeball how big a place is from outside. From the sidewalk, you already formed a rough layout estimate—you can’t be more wrong.

The hallway goes on—like, it just keeps going. There’s a common room before it branches out infinitely, but man, what have you gotten yourself into?

“Wow,” you manage. The house doesn’t even look weird: cheap laminated wallpaper, a shoe rack by the door with over forty pairs of shoes on it, air that smells like fabric softener, and used clothes—is that fucking smoke? Is something burning somewhere?!

“Welcome! Don’t mind the smoke. Hyunjin’s just making lunch.” She says with an excruciating amount of nonchalance, which contrasts hard with whatever you’ve got going on right now, because none of this is making you less chalant—actually, you’re overchalant—way past it, and you’re struggling to hide it.

“O-kay,” you say to her, but really it’s directed to the universe since you’re slowly starting to accept your fate.

She tours you around. 

First, the common area, where countless random clothes are strewn over what has to be four mismatched sofas, with a huge ass television as the centerpiece of the room. Unfinished pizza slices, stuffed toys, Pokemon cards scattered atop a coffee table, and a random almost two-apples-sized brown bear hanging off one of the sofa edges.

“Oh, that’s our favorite! His name’s Djungelskog.” Heejin gushes, picking it up and giving it a tight hug before throwing it back on the couch. She then points to the door leading to the kitchen. “And that’s where the magic happens. Be careful. We’ve had a couple of accidents there involving fire.”

“Right—yeah, perfectly normal,” you reply.

She grabs your arm and locks it with hers as she leads you to the endless hallway. You start counting doors because this is the first time you’ve seen this many in one hallway.

“Oh, are you counting?” She cheerfully remarks. “Cute! Our fans love to do that too—they love making sure we’re always complete.”

Somebody else comes down the hall carrying what looks like a huge bin filled with socks. “Yaa! Heejin!”

“Oh, shit! That’s Kim Lip.” Heejin yelps.

“Pick up your socks next time, okay? I’m fucking throwing all of these in the trash and setting them on fire!” The bin, catching the full brunt of the aggression, shakes hard enough that the contents almost spill out. “Seriously, why can’t all of you be a bit more responsible with your clothes?!” The woman scolds.

“Lip, this is our new cleaner—” Heejin looks at you with the most clueless face. “—what was your name again?”

You let go of Heejin’s arms and offer your hand to Kim Lip. “Oh, my name is—”

“Oh, finally! You’re the cleaner, right? Throw these socks away for me, these women are disgusting! I can’t keep doing this!” She exclaims, hands you the bin, then storms back to her room and slams the door.

“Heh, I’m sorry about that. I guess that will be your first task then.” Heejin gives you a little apologetic bow, then scratches her head, snickering. “Feel free to tour yourself around the house after. I still have stuff to do, so just knock when you have questions. Talk to you later, good luck!”

She scurries towards one of the rooms and disappears. And just like that, you’re alone in this long-ass-infinite-space of a hallway with a huge laundry bin of old mismatched socks.

O-kay.

You stand there for a while; nobody comes back out. Somewhere behind you, the kitchen makes a loud sound that isn’t normal for any kind of kitchen.

You decide to ignore it for now because—socks, yeah, because these socks are not going to organize themselves. You go looking for a laundry room, because every house usually has a laundry room, and this—you’re choosing to believe—is a house.

You walk and peek through some of the rooms. The doors have plaques on them that you didn’t notice before; small brass ones screwed in at eye level—the type hotels would usually use to indicate room numbers. The first one you notice says: “Desire Room”. The second, just across from it, reads: “Hyeju’s Dark Room”. You try peeking, and you see a room with the lights off, and the furniture and fixtures are all matte black. Something inside shifts, so you close the door and keep walking.

So many rooms, all named strangely, and at some point you stopped reading them—mostly because they’ve started feeling less like labels and more like warnings.

“Are you the cleaner?” A soft voice startles you from behind. You turn around, holding a bin of dirty socks like a pervert caught stealing underwear.

She looks more mature than the first two you’ve met.

“I’m Haseul.” She doesn’t ask your name, which, honestly, you’ve stopped expecting anybody to. “Nobody’s told you the rules, have they?”

“Rules? What rules? There are rules?”

“Yes.” She starts walking with a gravity so strong your body decides on its own to follow her. “The hallway is neutral ground. It’s safe—nothing special really happens here—”

Neutral ground? Safe? Nothing special? Why is she suddenly explaining this like the whole dorm is a game show?

She continues, “—all rooms here have their own rules. So before you enter a room, make sure you consent to what can happen in it.” She looks back with a concerned smile on her face. “Don’t worry, the rooms are aptly named based on the rules assigned to them, with a small text below the main label explaining it a bit more.”

You didn’t notice that before; you’ve only read the large labels. You try reading one of the rooms near you: “Representative Animals: You start acting more like your representative animal.” Whatever the hell that means.

You look back at her, and she waits until you’re facing her properly. “Once you enter the room and the door closes behind you, the rules start taking effect.” She moves behind you, places her palms on your back, pushes you forward, and you both continue walking. “You’ll figure it out pretty fast—they’re not subtle.” After a few steps, she resumes walking by your side. “Satisfy the rules of the room, and it’ll let you out whenever you’re ready.

“What happens if you do nothing?”

“Well, it’s not like the room will kill you or something. It’ll just be harder to get out of it.” She looks at you with a big smile on her face for a second longer than is comfortable. “So, do you still want the job?”

You think about your poor excuse of a bank account.

“Yes, of course.”

“Then there’s nothing to worry about.” She’s already walking off. “Laundry’s the eleventh on the left. You’ll know when you’re there because it’s always open.”

You finally arrive at the laundry room.

All these rooms and rules have got you curious, but that is not the immediate task at hand. You were hired to be this dorm’s cleanliness enforcer, and that’s all you have to worry about.

After finishing the laundry and pairing up the mismatched socks, you head back to the hall in hopes of finding Kim Lip’s or Heejin’s room to hand them your proud handiwork.

You vaguely remember one room in particular where Heejin might have disappeared into. Before entering, you try to read the plaque assigned to the room: “B.B.S.: Bunny Breeding Session.” There's a small text underneath it, same as all the others, except this one has been scratched down to nothing, like somebody got tired of explaining.

What is this? Do they have pets inside the dorm?

You knock, “Anyone here?” 

The door opens on its own. You take a few steps inside, and the door slams shut behind you.

“Oh, you’re here!” Heejin gleefully calls out from somewhere in the room you can’t see.

“I’m just here to hand back your socks.”

“Oh, just place them on the side,” she replies, her voice slowly increasing in volume as you hear her approaching you.

“Alright. I read that this room is called Bunny Breeding Session, what does that mean—exactly?” You ask, cluelessly.

Heejin comes out in a tight white latex bodysuit hugging her figure perfectly, fluffy bunny ears, and a round puff of a tail attached to her ass.

“Well, you’re about to find out.”

· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·

Veni, vidi, vici. “I want you to cum inside—” Heejin whispers, then cuts herself off to take a nip of your earlobe. “Like what you see?” She continues to circle you. “Breed me. Conquer me. Those are the rules.”

Millions of signals fire through your brain—all of them her fault. Heejin is walking like somebody doing a lap of inspection: hands behind her back, chin up, eyes down, assessing you like she’s the apex predator, when she’s the one in the bunny suit.

You take a step back. What the fuck is happening? You reach for the doorknob, jiggling it—try turning it clockwise; it’s locked.

“God, you’re so hot—” you hear yourself say—none of it being approved by your head, by the way—maybe not the one up top; maybe it’s your head downstairs doing all the sign-offs right now. “—what did I do to deserve this?”

“Did you not read the sign outside?” She murmurs it, clearly not in a rush.

“I did—” words continue to come out of your mouth; granted, it’s at a third of your usual volume. “—but I didn’t expect this at all.” 

Just a few hours ago, this woman opened the front door wearing an oversized hoodie and round glasses, bare face and hair that definitely did not pass their stylist’s approval. Cute—extremely fucking pocket-sized cute.

The glasses are gone; hoodie’s not there anymore. What’s on her now is white latex from her collarbone to her ass, cut so high at the hip that it leaves nothing left for imagination. She’s wearing a headband with bunny ears, and when she turns around—fuck, when she turns around—you see her plump, pale ass, with a round white puff of a tail sitting exactly where a tail would sit if gods truly granted us human-bunny-beings.

You make a mental note to thank all the gods you pray to for today.

“Well—” Her face is directly in front of you, the tip of her nose barely touching yours. “—do you like what you see?” 

Your pulse finds its new home somewhere behind your teeth; hands gone stupid and jello at the wrist. “Yes.”

“Want me to explain the rules further before we continue?”

“...yes—Ma’am.” You barely manage, beads of sweat already forming on your forehead.

“Ma’am?” She tries the word out. “I like it, but tonight you call me your bunny.” She takes your hand. “Understood? Now, come here.”  She leads you deeper into the room—where things start to shift toward four corners and a king-sized bed. “So it’s simple,” she says. “You can do anything to me.”

You gulp. “Anything?”

“Mhm, but the outcome’s always the same.” She lets go of your hand and slinks towards the bed—sits at the edge, facing you. Her legs crossed, her arms propped on her knees, her left hand supporting her chin. “Can you guess what the outcome should be?”

You know where this is going, but the voices in your head finally wake up and attempt to stop the words from coming out—“For me to breed the bunny?”—totally failing. You’re not quite sure you’ve ever said those words together in a sentence before.

“I knew you weren’t that slow.” She smiles, sits straight up—uncrosses her legs, still keeping them firmly together. “So—” she places her hands on her knees, gripping them. Slowly, she parts them until she’s spread enough for you to see just how wet she is from under that latex—translucent where it’s most moist, glimmering at the seam. There’s already a print of her on the duvet. “—are you ready to breed the bunny?”

Holy fuck. You thought you were here just to clean their dorm—nobody mentioned Heejin’s plumbing. “Si—Sign me up.”

· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·

Your brain’s useless now—your other head is trying to take over the whole department. You take four steps to land in her Orbit—then it hits; from the deepest parts of your actual brain, it finally hits: you know not a single important thing about this woman (well, you know her name, that she’s an idol, and that she’s a big fan of bunnies but that’s it) and she’s asking you to breed her senseless—

“You’re thinking,” Heejin says, stopping you mid-thought.

“Yeah…”

“This is crazy, right?” 

Right. Then—and this is the part that undoes you—her question. You start feeling some shit that you didn’t expect you’d feel for a woman you just met—granted, the woman in front of you is what kings would go to war for.

“Yeah,” you tell her. “It’s crazy—” Heejin’s shoulders drop about half an inch—and you think: maybe you have disappointed her somehow, and she’s going to walk it back. It’s crazy, but it’s not like you don’t want it; you want this; you’ve wanted this since that door swung shut—you’d just like to learn more about her. “—but I’m going to do it anyway.”

That does it for her—energy shooting back up. Vibes restored.

“Oh?” She blinks—pauses for a second. “I was almost gonna try and pull off my puppy eyes and say some stuff to convince you.”

“Huh—what?”

“Nothing.” She takes a fistful of your shirt; you drop down quick, knees hitting the floor between her legs, her knees ending up somewhere around your ribs. “Wait—wait, actually, hang on.”

“Hang on?” 

“You can still say no—”

“Do you think I’m crazy?”

“Well—you know.” She’s still holding your shirt. “I feel like I should have maybe started with that when you walked in and I kinda got—” She points at herself, her bunny suit, and well—the whole situation that unfolded. “—excited.” She grins, mouth wide and eyes smiling. “The rules aren’t exactly life-threatening, in case you’re wondering. It just doesn’t open until the room’s happy—until I’m happy.” Then she pouts. “We could just sit on the bed for a few hours, and the worst thing that happens is we both get bored, and I get—” a shrug. “—sad.”

“Heejin.”

“Yeah?”

“We’re doing this.” You finally say. She exhales out loud; so do you. “Ok, what—”

Her lips clash with yours—mid-clarification. This woman doesn’t really think; she just does things by instinct. It’s kinda hot—so now you get into it, like really into it. Deepen the kiss, reciprocate the energy that she has been giving you, and more.

“Oh. I never—got to—find out what your name was—” she manages, as you both eat each other’s face out. Her lips taste like strawberry, and her tongue tastes uniquely like her: a snack, a meal, a full course flavor bomb that’s beyond intoxicating. It’s clouding your mind so much that it’s refusing to process anything else besides the sensation of her.

“My—name?” She’s taking your shirt off now, bunched up over your head. You help her remove it. She grabs it out of your hand, throws it on the floor, then stands—eyes you from your head down. “My name is—” you struggle to continue; how can you when her hips and everything magical in between are right in front of you—front-row seats to a divine gate you can’t wait to enter.

She takes you by the wrist and swaps you into her spot—lost the plot; this woman wants one thing. You land on your back on the print she left—still damp and warm.

“Fuck. I can’t wait any longer.” Her hands hook on your waistband, and in quick succession take your pants off and your underwear with them. “Oh.” 

“Oh?”

“No—no, that’s a good oh.” She clarifies, still staring at your cock—not a hint of subtlety as she takes a solid second with her mouth just open. “It’s just, there’s a reason the plaque’s scratched off.”

“What’s the reason?”

“Well, I haven’t convinced anyone to go into this room yet.” You’re taken aback. “I really tried, but no one took the bait.” 

Who the fuck won’t take the chance to breed this goddess of the hunt? Clueless idiots—that’s what they are. 

Her hand comes up—knees creeping up between yours—her head hovering just above your length—then she looks at your face instead, pulling off what you guess are her puppy eyes that she was talking about. “Can I?” 

You’re up on your elbows before you decide to be. It’d be stupid not to fall for those eyes. “Ye—” of-fucking-course she can. “—yeah.” 

The moment it lands for her, her body arches, ass pointed towards the ceiling—that bunny-tail accentuating her peach—juicy-thicc and wiggling in anticipation of your cock.

“You’re so hard…” She gasps. Her tongue starts licking your throbbing cockhead. You groan at the sensation hitting your crotch—the softness of her tongue and the wetness of her saliva coating your cock. “...and you taste so good.”

Her lips glistening from the moisture of her advances, her cheeks tenting from trying to fit your cock—her mouth pops at every release. She’s looking way more like a bunny now—an adorable fuck-bunny that’s hungry for a carrot she’s struggling to handle.

“Fuck, Heejin.” You groan with every lick of her tongue tracing the veins on your cock, coating it further with layers upon layers of her saliva. “You’re so fucking good.”

“You like that?” Her hands slightly tighten around your base, slowly stroking it—matching how thorough she is when licking your cock. “Does it feel good?”

“Of course, my bunny.” Her pupils dilate from excitement—she likes that, huh? “You look pretty with your mouth slobbering around my cock.”

She then starts bobbing her head, trying to fully take in your length. “You—you li-like thihs?”

“I fucking love it, my bunny.” Your hands grab the sheets, knuckles white from the pressure.

She stops licking and proceeds to fully commit to taking in your cock inside her mouth. “Your cock is so perfect for me—gosh, I love it so much.” She’s now in full service-mode for your cock, deepthroating it, forcing it through her tight throat—gagging on it. “I’m going to get so addicted to your cock, I just know it.”

She’s getting creative now, her head bobbing at an increasing pace, saliva leaking from her mouth, dripping and coating your cock while her hand strokes your base. The sucking is more strategic; before, she was just blindly giving you head; now she’s more rhythmic with it—she’s getting intentionally sloppier. You hear spit and skin creating harmonious slurping suction sounds between the tight space of her mouth and your crotch.

Her head drops lower, taking your cock deeper into her throat; she holds it for a beat—then she releases it, and you see this heavenly image of Heejin’s mouth with threads on threads of saliva connecting your cockhead to her perfect mouth, then slowly dripping to her tits being pushed close to each other by her suit. 

“Heejin—” you groan, yet she doesn’t falter—no intention of letting your cock go. “My bunny—” your fist is in her hair now, pulling her off and bringing her back to the real world; the sound your cock makes leaving her mouth is a sound that you’ll replay over and over inside your head.

Dazed, wrecked, chin wet, lipstick ruined, looking entirely messy and entirely the prettiest girl in the world at the same time. “Hey.”

“Hey yourself.”

“Why’d you stop me?”

“Because I was close, and it’s not going in your mouth.”

You see her eyes widening again. “That’s a fucking good answer.”

“So how do you want it, my bunny?”

She comes up your body—one knee after the other. “Before that, I have a gift for you.” She smirks like an idea sparked in her head. “Since you’ve been a good boy,” she grabs your left hand, guides it between her own legs, placing it just below her bunny tail—then it clicks for you. You feel it in your fingers: the key to the gates of heaven—the pull tab holding her latex suit together. “You know what to do~”

The way she says it ruins you. Sultry and adorable—a combination that usually wouldn’t work. Heejin continues to score points in becoming your ideal woman.

You slowly pull the tab; latex is not the type of material that likes being rushed. The seam opens just from under her tail all the way to her navel, the two halves peeling apart and staying stuck to her thighs. Now that you think about it, the rule wasn’t meant for the first door you opened; it was for this.

Your senses take in all of her: The sight of her clean-shaven kitty—so silky smooth you immediately want to kiss it—but you control yourself. Her scent overwhelms you; musky, sweet, fresh, flowery—all kinds of notes dancing through your nostrils, captivating your brain enough to fire multiple neurons, increasing your dopamine levels. The moisture, the slickness of her folds coating your digits as you run your fingers lightly through her labia—feeling it out and pleasuring her with your touch. Heejin’s taste on your tongue as you lick your fingers and her face lights up for every lick you let her eyes register, dosing yourself with her self-made liquid love potion.

“I—I’ve bee—been a good bu—bunny, right?” She asks, barely coherent—got both hands flat on your chest as she works herself on your fingers; her hips rolling tight little circles.

How amusing it is to see her tiny fluffball of a tail bouncing each time she circles her hips.

“Yes, Heejin. You’re being a good bunny for me, so pretty—so fucking breedable.” Your other hand grabs her waist, keeping it in place as your middle finger enters her tight pussy-hole. A digit that gets her blushing red and moaning loud onto your neck. She then nuzzles into your shoulder, and her moans are mixed with her grunts.

You then introduce your ring finger, two digits now curving inside her walls—building up a rhythm that’s harsh and up-tempo.

“Fuck fuck fuck—fuuuck fuck! That feels so fucking good!” She screams over and over—like a broken record where the tone arm’s malfunctioned and is constantly fucking up her grooves, which you kinda are.

You finger-fuck her at an increasing pace—her creamy juices produce a slick melody around your fingers almost matching the volume of her moans. “You’re such a fucking good girl—my bunny Heejin.”

“I—I’m, y-your bunny is cumming!”

She’s coming quick; you can feel her walls squeezing your fingers tighter as you continue to hasten the pace of your pussy assault. In just a few seconds, her legs squeeze together—locking your hand through her incoming violent climax, making her lower body shake in ecstasy. 

Her mouth’s open now, attempting to catch her breath, “oh my god yes.”

Her tiny body is being pleasured in waves—relentless and turbulent. The rapture pulls her into a state of brain-deadness, like rogue rip currents dragging her towards the deep ocean as she releases the last few pulses of her climax.

As Heejin’s consciousness swims up from the sea of euphoria, she looks back at you with increased vigor.

“Oh my god—I can fuck you endlessly.” You exclaim, clearly turned on by the woman barely holding her position on top of you.

“Do it. Don’t just say it—do it.” She provokes you, still in a state of wrecked composure. “Perfect timing too; today’s the best time of the month to breed me.”

Blood rushes from your head to the other. That statement released something primal in you—your hand reaches for her ass, squeezing it then giving it an overdue slap. Such explicit imagery needs to be contained for now because holy fuck you’re going insane; you’re going to bust just thinking about it, and this is your only way of releasing that pressure.

She yelps, “Mark me, make me yours, knock me up.” 

“You’ll say anything to fuck me, huh?” You get your hands on her hips and push up; she takes the hint and comes up onto her knees—still straddling you, close enough that you have to tip your chin to find her face. 

Your hands find the tab once more; pull it slowly—continuing from where you left off, peeling it up past her navel until it stops at the clasp just under her chin. “Now, let’s get this off you, my little slut-bunny.” 

Click—the clasp gives, and the whole front of the suit falls open.

Then it’s finally off, and it lands on the floor next to your shirt. All that’s left is Heejin, up on her knees over you with nothing on but her bunny ears and tail, revealing her perky tits, her taut abs, and a body so fucking tight you get dizzy just from the sight of it.

She sits back down on your thighs, flustered and still a bit dazed.

You take a moment to admire the woman in front of you. You fix her hair, swiping the strands off her forehead, revealing more of her incredibly ethereal face accentuated by a tiny mole near her left eye. This beauty is now your standard—Athena be damned. Your hands then palm her cheeks, squeeze them a bit, puffing her mouth. Such a fucking adorable bunny face, completed by an extremely hot body.

Her whole face smiles at the gesture.

“What are you doing?” She asks, confused by the moment you’re both having.

“Nothing, just realizing how fucking lucky I am.” 

Her face lights up again—you’re starting to adore her more whenever this happens. She leans into your palm, and for about two seconds this is the sweetest thing that has probably happened in this room all year.

Then you remember what the room is for.

“Turn around.”

“Turn—?”

“Face on the bed, my bunny.”

She’s off you and turned around before you complete your sentence.

And there it is. A few moments ago, you watched that juicy little ass walk away from you across the room, and now it’s facing you. Pale and full—and right in the middle of it, that round white puffball sticking out of it.

You put a hand on one of her ass cheeks and squeeze, hard, feeling her flesh mold perfectly in your hands. You then take the tail between two fingers because you’ve been curious about exactly how it’s connected to her ever since the second she came out confident in her bunny suit.

You tug at it once—it doesn’t come off. It moves, but it’s clearly tightly attached to something. Underneath you, Heejin’s whole back arches, and she makes a cute little noise into the mattress you haven’t heard yet tonight.

“Heejin.”

“Mhmm?”

“Is the tail—”

“Hmm.”

“Is it—”

“Mhmm.”

You’ve inserted many things into many different holes throughout your life. Not a single one of those prepared you for what this bunny tail entails.

You pull it again—slower, and you see her whole back react to the sensation.

“Nhnnnn—o—okay, okay, that’s—” Her hips push back into you all on their own, “—that’s unfair—”

“I’m just having fun with your tail, my bunny.”

“Mhmm.”

You go back to appreciating the view, her all arched like this. Architects would kill to replicate an arch this perfect. Your hands instinctively grab both sides of her cheeks, spreading her apart. So fucking soft, so fucking malleable, an image you’ll keep in your head forever.

“You’ve been such a good girl for me tonight, Heejin. Such a fucking good slut-bunny.”

“Breed me now, please. Stop playing with my ass and fuck my brains out.”

“But your ass is so perfect, my bunny. I’d do anything to replace the tail stuck inside it with my cock.”

“Next time. You can have my ass next time, maybe in some other room.”

“Promise?”

“Yes, I promise—for now, breed me. Knock me up, please—please, please, I can’t wait any longer. I’m so fucking wet just from the thought of you breeding me.”

You line yourself up against her already extremely wet cunt—so needy and inviting. The slight touch of it produces a sound out of her, muffled by the sheets. She’s fucking hopeless; it’s so obvious how much she’s been craving this since you both started. Slowly, you coat your cockhead first with her slick, making sure it’s properly lubricated before you push it in—and when you do, the world feels like it has stopped spinning.

Tight. That’s the word you would normally use in this situation, but it’s nowhere near enough for this. Her walls are taut from how wound up she is, and the plug’s in there taking up room, and you can feel it fighting you for real estate—you and it, working both her entrances at once.

Bliss. Doesn’t cover it either. Your cock pushes deeper, and the noise that comes out of you is the loudest, most inhuman noise you’ve made in years, and all it took was moving in her, and then out, and then in again.

“Your cock is so perfect—eugh; it’s stretching me out so good, fuh—yeah.” 

“God, it’s like your pussy was made specifically for my dick,” you groan, while kneading her butt cheeks. “And these buns—” You spank one of her cheeks, turning the pale peach pinkish red, your handprint definitely there later. “—they’re perfectly molded for my hands to grip you while I fuck you from behind.”

“I’m yours. My pussy is yours. I’m your slut-bunny, and you’re free to fuck me any time you want—breed me any time you want. I want you to put a fucking baby in me, please.” She pleads, her hips moving by themselves now, taking you in deeper, faster, and harder. 

You take a fistful of the tail—it turns out to be the finest handle for this bunny being fucked out of her mind. You use that newfound discovery, and every pull drags something out of her that goes straight up your spine. Noises and reactions you swear you can listen to all day long, as long as it comes directly from the source.

“That’s it—that’s fucking it, that’s—” She can’t even finish her sentences. You continue fucking her harder; her ass coming back to meet you every time, her tits swinging underneath her, both hands looking for anything to grip, all twisted up in the duvet that she might ruin for the second time before the night ends. “—harder, fuck me harder, please—fuck—”

So you fuck her harder.

Her arms, which tried their best to hold her up, only last two minutes. Then her elbows fold, and her face goes deep down into the bedding while her ass stays exactly where you left it. The view is so fucking filthy it only makes you more insane.

She’s trying to get some words out, but they’re all just gibberish. Between her inaudible chants, her pussy getting pounded, the mix of juices flowing out of her pussy lips squelching at your every thrust, and the creaking of the bed—none of it registers in your brain anymore. There’s nothing left properly working in both of your noggins as you fuck her senseless.

You pull out. You hear her scream—almost mad that you’ve taken something away from her.

“Roll over, Heejin.”

“Huh?”

“My bunny, just do what I say and fucking roll over.”

She rolls over and sticks her landing, lying flat on the bed facing you this time. “What’s next?”

“Are you ready to be properly bred, my bunny?”

Her face lights up again—GOD, it never gets old. You get her knees and fold them back, one after another, up towards her shoulders. She is now folded like a summer lawnchair, looking up at you from underneath her own legs.

“I’m ready. Do whatever you want with me, manhandle me, don’t even begin to go gentle on me. I’m your fucking slut-bunny, and I’m prepared to get bred multiple times if need be.” She’s gone beyond feral now; her tongue’s lolling out of her mouth, drool drips from the corner of her lips, her eyes are almost gone, hardly focusing on a single point, her thick pussy cream glazing your cock.

You hold her by her ankles, pinning them to the bed. You line your cock against her pussy lips and her tightness almost rejects you from going in, but you manage to do so by a hair. The clench of her walls is so overwhelming that your head feels lighter, unable to understand what’s happening beyond your two connecting bodies.

This is it; you start banging her hard, overwhelming her senses by pounding her like a jackhammer. You fuck her in that position over and over and over. You give her the full brunt of it. She’s chanting now, praying in an unknown language mixed with her moans. You swear she could’ve started an incantation with her voice from all the pounding you’re doing to her. She’s far gone, and you’re nearing your limit.

“Fuck—fuck, fuck, fuck. Fuck me harder, fuck your little cum bunny. Fill me with your seed and make me your little cum dump bunny—fuh, fuck, uhng—fuck!”

You pump your cock faster—you let her ankles go, then grab her perky tit and give it a hard squeeze while your other arm supports your whole weight, pumping its full effort into the woman under you.

Heejin doesn’t even know what to do with her hands; she’s trying to grab whatever she can from you. She settles on your shoulder, but you shove it away, now pinning her to the bed.

Now you’re the one running on pure instinct. Lust has taken over you fully as you fuck Heejin into the bed like she’s part of the furniture, like she’s no longer human and just a fuckdoll meant to be pumped into oblivion. 

“Are you finally going to breed your bunny?” She taunts, but in her state right now, that comes out more like a beg.

You feel your head go blank while a warm sensation brews from your chest, then to your core, magnifying its presence near your crotch.

“Your cock feels so fucking good inside me. Please fucking cum inside me now, please. I’ve been a good bunny, right? I’ve been a good girl for you all night, right?”

You struggle to even reply anymore, but your mouth just spews it out, unchecked. “I love you, Heejin. I fucking love you.”

It takes a beat for her to come back to her senses. “I love you too.” She leans up to kiss you, and you kiss her back deeper.

And that’s it. You feel your whole body tense and every muscle giving in to the pressure. You’re on your last thread, and it finally snaps. The warm fire in your body forms a core on your crotch, and you release all of it inside her.

You cum together in perfect harmony—pussy and cock being painted, coated, and shined with viscous, white, creamy liquids intermingling with each other, mixing like a concoction of life being shot inside of her. 

“Ah! So so so much—so much cum! I fucking love it!” She groans on and on and on, shaking at every wave, at every thick rope of cum you put in her.

You eventually stop pulsing, your cock still inside her, still hard amidst all the pleasure you released. “God, Heejin, you’re so filled with my cum.”

“Don’t take it out yet. Keep it in; I don’t want your cum to leak out—please.” She pleads, and you follow. You keep it inside while your body drops just enough to hover above her.

“Are you sure this is going to be fine?”

“Yes. I’m sure. From now on, this is the only thing I’m going to be good for. Taking in your cum and making babies. Get me pregnant over and over again; I don’t care. This is all I am now. Your cum dump, your fuck doll, your bunny breeding machine, your always-pregnant-bunny-slut.”

You knead her tits while looking deep into her eyes. “You’re my bunny slut?”

“Yes, I’m yours. You own the tits you’re playing with right now, you own the pussy you’re keeping plugged up and filled with your cum, you own my ass that I’ll let you destroy next time around, you own my body—you own all of me. I’m yours.”

“That’s good to know.” You get an arm under her back and roll the both of you sideways—her legs finally coming down on the way—and now you’re facing each other, bodies still connected, cock still corking her.

You close the distance further and cuddle her. Your bodies are so close you feel her heart thumping. “I meant it, Heejin.”

“Meant what?”

“That I love you.”

She smiles and kisses you on the lips. “I love you too—” She pauses; there it goes again—the clueless look. “—uhhh, I never got your name.”

It takes a second for both of you to process what just happened. You then both burst into laughter, your bodies shaking in unison. Your dick turns flaccid, and it releases itself from Heejin’s pussy.

“I’ll tell you if you let me fuck your ass next.” You propose.

“Deal, but make sure you still finish inside my pussy, ok?”

“Deal.”

The door clicks, but the job’s not done. You have plenty more ways to breed this bunny.

"Housekeeping!"

"Not now!" she shouts back.

"Bro, I'm kidding, it's me. Come get the damn door."

Minju scurries to the door and opens it up.

"Ah, Park Minju, we finally-"

"Shut up. Can I ride?" She's already taking her jeans off.

"Sorry. Sure y-yeah." Before you can unbutton yours, she's on top of you, pinning you to the floor. She finishes unzipping your pants, pulls your cock out, and slides down it with one sleek motion.

"Fuck, Minju, what's the rush?" From your knock on the door, to the moment your whole dick was inside her took about 40 seconds.

"You're late. It's ten minutes til twelve, and I haven't gotten my daily workout in." She presses her hands into your shoulders.

"And we couldn't, like, do it on the bed?" you grunt as she gyrates her hips over yours.

"You want the gag again?" She continues.

"I'll shut up." You lift her by the armpits, fingers slipping under her tank top. She plops down again and again, growing slicker with each bounce.

With your back against the door, Minju pounds you into the corner. Her face is apathetic, but her body is full of fervor. Her eyes roll, following the arch of her back.

You stick an arm out, reaching for a boob, but she digs into your shoulder. Her palm landing on a pressure point, which leaves you weak underneath her. She uses this as the perfect opportunity to speed up her bounces, while you are frozen in pleasure (and extreme discomfort).

But you wouldn't change a thing. Minju's lust is worth it. Her assertive touch. The sweat falling off her face, landing on your chest. Her folds slipping over your head. The pent up need in her eyes. It's all worth it.

"Can I.. have a breather, Minju?" Your request is ignored. Her big eyes lock with yours, a drop of mascara streaking down the side of her face. She's unrelenting, folding you, taking advantage of your willingness to please her.

After minutes of riding, she's ready for release. Digging herself down into you, she gives one last push, before melting around you. Minju gives you everything she has, gushing all over you. Her cum flows down, soaking the door mat you've been hammered onto. She rests a moment, recovering, while you lay under her in complete shock.

"Ok, get up buddy." Minju pats your shoulder, and you slip out of her. She makes her way to the bed, baggy jeans still around one ankle, dragging along the floor.

"That was good," you get up, and take a moment to stretch out, "but you could be a little more gentle."

"It's not my fault," she snaps, "it's this damn trainer. She's always saying 'you're not getting two thousand calories a day!'... 'you're not getting all the nutrients you need!'... blah blah blah." She unlatches a smart watch from her wrist, holding it in front of her. "And this stupid thing. They literally monitor me twenty-four-seven."

"Shhh. Relax. You've burned enough calories, you don't need to stress yourself further."

"Hmng." She falls back onto a stack of pillows.

You join her, abandoning your pants on the welcome mat, with your underwear somewhere between here and there. "So where next?"

"Tokyo," she blows a strand of hair out of her face, "all weekend."

"Uff. You know, you should have a say in your schedule too."

"I should. But I don't."

"You're twenty-two, dude. You shouldn't let anyone work you like a forty-year-old."

"I finally have what I've always wanted. Why should I complain?"

"You have everything you want, but no time for the things you need."

"Forget it," Minju blubs.

"I'm serious. Take a break. I dunno.. London? Or France. Or home." A pause. "Don't even bring me. Just take some time for yourself."

"Home sounds nice. But I can't just go on hiatus."

"Yeah you can. Fuck the company."

She leans into you. "Here. Let me finish you," she says, half of her face grinning.

Moans, chants, and provocative prayers. The room is filled with Wonyoung’s voice, reverberating and leaving nothing to the imagination of the next-door neighbors. Her volume breaks the sound barrier with every circling of your tongue. Her loud wails echo through your roof as you suck out all her juices, letting your tongue be the conqueror of her cunt—realizing she is nearing her limit.

Your lips pucker, and you start sucking around her clit, stimulating it—making her grab the blanket, knuckles white, fighting for dear life, taking in all the pleasure you’re providing her.

“Daddy—please, god damn you’re so good—fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck—” There she is—in flow state, only seconds away from nirvana; she’s chanting your name, what you’re gonna do to her all night long, and blasphemy; all due to the pleasure you’re giving her. She cums, for it might as well be the infiniteth time this evening—her thighs lock around your head, letting you experience the whole ride of her climax, from the initial quake to the aftershock. “Fuck daddy, you’re so fucking good!” She manages amidst all the tremors; her body gives out, shakes endlessly with her release. “Where have you been all my life?”

“Just waiting for you, baby girl.” You coo, as you plant kisses around her pussy, coating it lovingly with your saliva—letting her gather herself. You pepper her inner thighs with praise and gratitude as she recovers from your munificence.

“From now on, my pussy is all yours.” She murmurs—her hand trying to reach your face as her body fully relaxes, letting her limbs drop flat to the bed. “It’s yours, daddy, all yours to eat for eternity.”

You rise up onto your knees, towering over her as she looks up at your hardness—you and your cock have been waiting for this. She licks her lips, knowing what comes next—or who cums next.

“Come on, Wonyoung, it’s your daddy’s turn to be pampered.” Your hand guides her head towards your throbbing cock, aligning her plump red lips towards your length that she eyes from head to base.

“Daddy, you’re so fucking huge.” She says as her whole face marvels at your cock—small, dainty hands wrapping the base of it—slowly stroking you, preparing your cock for the grand entrance to her inviting mouth. “Fuck, daddy.”

“Go for it, baby girl.” You bunch her hair at the back of her head, prepping her for what’s to come. “It’s your turn to make daddy feel good.”

Her tongue starts wetting your cockhead, lubricating the initial point of entry. She kisses your cock slowly, starting from the already leaking slit to your balls. It takes her a few seconds to reach the base—she’s taking her time, preparing for the inevitable, adjusting her expectations because she knows your cock will ruin every other dick that entered her sanctuary.

Her lips part slowly, and she takes you inside the wet, tight heat of her mouth. Her lips wrap around your base. “Fuck—Wonyoung, you’re taking me in so fucking well.” You manage, breathing starts to get labored as you’ve never been inside a mouth so tight, so needy, so perfect—so fucking divine. You can feel her throat starting to adjust to your girth; she strains herself trying to take all of you in, but she succeeds and starts moving her head, making you moan and grunt to the beat of her head bobs.

In-n-out, in and out, her lips pop every time she releases your cock and her throat adjusts as you enter her lovely mouth. Streaks of saliva coat your dick, her chin, and every space that separates your cock from her tongue.

“God, baby, you’re so fucking gorgeous with my dick inside your mouth.” You encourage, as she takes you deeper and faster, trying to milk your dick like she craves for it—as if her life depends on making you cum. “Now look at me while you do it, baby. Look at your daddy.”

She does. “Please cum for me, daddy,” she pleads—Wonyoung’s eyes watery and glassy from forcing your dick inside her tiny mouth. She’s practically begging for your release with her eyes gleaming with anticipation. 

“That’s it. Just like that, baby.” You see your cock bulge out of her throat, then in her already puffy cheeks, then out of her lips. A series of imagery that you can keep, that you can re-experience in high quality—in all its glory, and for all eternity with this goddess who gives blowjobs like she created the concept of it. “I’m fucking close.”

Her whole mouth vibrates with excitement as she anticipates your inevitable climax. “Fuck—” it only tips you further towards the edge—a sensation so tantalizing it makes you take just that one final step into the gushing gates of heaven. “Fuck, baby—I’m cumming.”

Your hands support her head—then you guide her to consume you whole; you then release a barrage of climaxes—ropes of your thick cum coating her throat, the insides of her mouth, making her drink all of it; not a single drop wasted. You see the whole process of her taking it all in as her eyes widen at the initial release—then close as her whole body braces for the amount of liquid running down her throat.

You release her head, and she tries to regain her composure. “Good girl, not letting any of my cum get wasted.”

“Of course, daddy.” Her palm swipes through her mouth, clearing away the last of the saliva from her masterful mouth-venture. “Just keep spoiling me during our dates, and I’ll spoil you when we’re back home, daddy.”

“Of course, baby girl.” You lay down with her, wrapping your arms around her flawless naked body. “You free next Thursday?”

“Depends. Take me out for a date first.”

“Definitely.”

“Then I’m free.”

So, even with those vague forewords, why would you even think that she’s really contradicting those claims? Well, how can you not when she’s just an inch away from dancing with you, and it’s not just any ordinary one, even metaphorically.

“Stop, baby.” Oh, her faint, dulcet voice is honey to your ears, a sweet concoction alongside her doe eyes sparkling against the dim light the hallways emit. “We can’t do it here.”

“Tch, why not?” Her eyes eagerly scan you, and your confidence marvels her, truly. “It’s not like someone can capture us doing this—ugh—little show of ours.”

You can’t blame her, mostly with the fact that you empathize with her in an extent that you would be cautious too of your surroundings. Even with heightened senses, you wouldn’t exactly divert your attention away from her.

Yes, only her, eyes on Sana—up and down, left and right, you scan her features and it’s breathtaking.

She moans with your lips brushing her neck, and that profound reaction would just get better as time runs by.

You stop and she whines, wanting to address something. “What do you even think I’ll do to you in this random alleyway—”

“A hallway, by the way—”

This girl, you swear to god. It’s annoying and she giggles with her miniscule triumphs, and you playfully roll your eyes just to get another chuckle from her.

“Whatever—don’t change the topic.” You hiss with a futile attempt to intimidate her, and as destined, you failed. “Say it, Sana.”

Your hand still roams around the arch of her back to her hips, eliciting a small moan from her as she composes herself to tell the assumption. 

And then, she smirks and smiles deviously. “I thought you’re going to fuck my cunt with your fingers.”

They all lie, they really do. Only you can see the deflowered façade of hers, and she’s boldly claiming it with you. Her words struck something in you, sending magnitudes of amusement as you distance yourself against her by just a little and earning an ambiguous laugh. “And then they say you’re as innocent as an angel, Sana.”

“They’re funny.”

“They really are.” Your voice low and deep, as you close your eyes to initiate another lock with her lips.

You still have some decency in you, and Sana’s attempts are in the form of a taunt. Even though it’s clearly ambiguous, she still remained victorious because she only has a single goal to fulfill herself with what she needs: to lure you in, deeply.

---

It was a quick traverse down to your car and with such comfort no one can ever experience, you let the beast out and really gave yourself in.

“Fuck, babe.” Sana elicits the wonder of your actions, hands onto your back as she praises you and feeds your ego. “Really missed me, huh?”

“How can I not? I miss every-single-thing from you, head to toe.” Your words are on par with your actions, and it’s crazy to think how insatiable she can really get with even just verbal exchanges.

Five weeks was enough to state the obvious. Each party in its own stressful nature and passions was enough to bear the fruit of hunger between each other. There’s nothing in this world you could ask for if you have her, the one and only Sana. 

You’d constantly hate Nayeon’s bombarding of texts and images whenever she’s with her but it was a concluding act to formulate what you’re experiencing right now. In both ways of satisfaction and happiness: one where you’re smiling like an idiot scrolling down those images and contagiously being jovial on your own seeing her seize her cherishable moments; and two, is the fact that you’ll eventually bound to meet her after a while and here you are, definitely seizing every second.

“Baby, I’ve always thought of something while I’m away from you.” 

You part your lips against her porcelain skin, and raise an eyebrow, piqued on what she may have in store for you to be interested in. “Mhm, tell me.”

“But there’s a catch, though.” You roll your eyes with another hindrance that took you off your seat. Her reasons grew exponentially ludicrous yet you got used to it, knowing how playful she can be. 

“Oh please, Sana.” You fake an exasperated breath right after, yet still, she will live up with what her lips have escaped.

“Just drive me home then I’ll let you know.” 

She sealed the deal but then, you realize that it’s riskier at her place, knowing its contradiction of an ideal spot to really let it all out. She’s cognizant about it, and within a second, proposes another reason to check out what’s on the line. “Oh, now I know, baby~”

You reposition yourself a little, tuck her hair behind the cartilage of her ear then attentively listen. “Now I hope this won't be behind another brick wall.”

Sana scoffs, a chuckle radiating that gleeful energy that’s definitely contagious. “No, this is to cross out another one on the list.”

Your eyes widen, eyebrows furrowing with the intent of amusement and the cherry on top, the confounded emotion. “Oh shit, you still have that, huh?”

Her hands roam around your shoulders, and points her index finger at her forehead, and then she permeates that hubristic smile of confidence, utterly in the rush of excitement with what can possibly unfold. “Got it all in this, baby. Really, in my head.”

Sana isn’t afraid to vocalize what she truly feels, and it’s elevated whenever she is with you. What could possibly stop her from saying such profanities or even the most endearing words known to mankind? You ignite her lingering emotions to an extent that she could be also the tool to break you—an instrument crafted to make the both of you in parity, mutually needing each other and then yearning for more. 

If the gods above destined her to do that mission of her, they surely did live up exceeding expectations, and there you fucking go, can’t stop worshipping her.

It catches her off-guard, but eager to reciprocate. Tangled between each other's arms, it seems like you’re only luring yourself deeper and making her dance with you until it all becomes too much. You pull out and she catches her breath, not before cupping your cheek and draws her hand towards your nape. “I need to taste you, baby.”

If this confined space in the backseat doesn’t exist, you would have more freedom to let feel everything. It took a second to render what she just said, and with a smile curling up your lips and a hand on her waist, she knows she’s about to let yourself be unlocked in a different world—and yes, you’ll introduce her with it.

“Is this a new rendition of the bucket list you still have in your mind?”

Sana rolls her eyes, chuckling, preening with your acknowledgement. “Glad about it but not really. Hah… Let this warm you up.”

She tugs onto your belt and you look down onto her clumsy fingers attempting to unbuckle it but she struggles a little. “Getting too cocky, babe?”

“But you’re not stopping me?” And then, you catch her wrists effortlessly, and it’s just a simple investment of energy to hinder her advances. That shock on her face, a circular mouth signifying its sincerity says it all, and you’re triumphant with what she thought you wouldn’t do knowing you don’t have such nerves to impede her.

“Come again?” You’re teasing her, lightly, yet she whines and pulls that card of enervation, that goddamn pouty lips and doe eyes—a fucking Achilles’ heel is worth defying your strength in all aspects.

God, she stares just like that and you simply can’t let your princess be your damsel in distress.

The grip loosened, and the victory of hers was evident and even better, helping her inch closer towards her desired prize.

“You know, Sana, I don’t really know if you can do this here.” You’re clearly doubting her, not by her skills (before you could say anything else, she’s a spectacular showstopper and no one can match her, not even Nayeon or Eunha) but by the fact with such limited space.

“You have to trust me, baby.” Of course, you will and it’s a braindead response. You nod and let her orchestrate how things will go, and you’re eager to comply. “But for now, let me go on top of you.”

If anyone can see such a beauty in the brink of besmirchment, they would be amused and they’ll be met with such a show.

Forget that goddamn foreplay, it’s Sana that runs you over and drives you into insanity.

She’s now on top and you let yourself be comfortable, until her voice snaps you back to reality. “Fancy for some ice cream?”

Ah, of course, another bullet from her magazine full of head-boggling ideas and experiments that can truly test the both of you. The wonder here that everyone would probably disparage is this: it’s not the fact about her creativity in work of filth and lust, but it’s the ways on how she elevates your experience into height you wouldn’t know it’s possible. It’s really what lies beneath such an innocent exterior, is the entirely flummoxing mask—really surprising.

You probably didn’t even notice the bag at the front seat, too occupied with her and her only. She grabs onto the point of the vanilla ice cream, twists it open and yes, she’s seducing you with whatever expertise she can. She licks onto the lid leisurely, her tongue lathering it and going around with a full revolution with one thing in mind: to tease you.

“Oh god, they really don’t miss, do they?” It was rhetorical and you can't invest a nerve to answer. “But in all honesty, baby—nothing can get any better than your dick.”

She rubs the coldness of the container onto your clothed crotch, and you groan on how great it felt even though it’s partially uncomfortable. You can’t possibly describe it thoroughly, nowhere near to be discreet even if you want to for whatever the fuck she’s doing onto your raging tent—

You’re moaning again, and again, and again—it’s just music that fills Sana’s ears, and wholeheartedly accepts what she had crafted you to, a mumbling, needy mess.

For a second, you blink and gosh, she’s dexterous and skillful, now only with just your boxers left to undress for her grand prize.

“Don’t worry, baby.” She cradles your sensitive balls through the fabric, until she tugs your boxers and pulls it onto your knees without a care but her selfish needs. “I’ll make you feel fucking good.”

Sana deemed herself powerless as soon as you got her into your grasp, a pliant girl that suffices your needs yet the tables turned way too hard—she got you squirming under her frozen touch, and it’s euphoric knowing how the emanating hotness of hers rivals it oh-so-perfectly.

The rock-hard mass of muscle stands tall and vigorous, and it’s making her fucking drool to the point that she immediately latched her tongue onto it, an inevitable start to feed her conglomeration of different exigencies that could make your brain in haywire, and it’s a messy fulfillment for your own needs too.

Her lips are soft, like a cushion onto your aching slit as she collects that colorless liquid that’s already leaking. It made her giggle a little, an adorable attempt to mask her sinful façade that she’s about to unveil.

“I knew I’d fuck you up, baby.” She’s coy, eagerly hubristic.

“Don’t be t-too confident.” Sana is just making you stammer just seconds after she latched her lips onto your throbbing cock, and she knows it’s your desired kryptonite. “God—just fucking suck my cock.”

She giggles with a mouthful of your shaft, a vessel pivotal for the success of her acts in making your defense crumble within her feet (should I say, her mouth) even with her gleeful demeanor. 

It didn’t take long though and god, she’s bobbing up and down, not stopping anytime soon.

You look down and cradle those hazel-brown locks of hers, a leverage with two messages: one, to let her know how much she’s making you feel good and exponentially loved; and lastly, an outlet to fight that gratification that she’s a professional about. She looks up, eyes darted towards you and you’re lost in the contact of those orbs on hers towards yours—you would love to get lost into the sea of her beautiful, dark, glinting eyes that represents her laced lust right from the start.

She’s already messy around you, spit seeping out at the crevices of her mouth as she pulls out of your delectable shaft, grabbing a wooden spoon and earning you moans for such an incredible job by hers even though it’s ephemeral.

Those thirty seconds felt like an eternity, and that’s her lethal expertise, breaking you.

“I don’t break promises.” Sana grabs a spoonful of that scrumptious ice cream and lathers it onto her lips like she’s applying that favorite matte lipstick you gifted her a month ago, and god, she’s seductive with it. She lets the melted dessert fall onto your throbbing slit, the spoon static as she continues. “I’m going to make a dessert out of this delicious dick of yours.”

The cool drop of that ice cream hits you, and it’s shuddering, right to your core. She can’t tease you for god knows long because she’s the type of person to never waste her chances with you, as well as her golden time.

Her wet mouth envelops you again, and it’s all too well for you. The rivalry of temperature between those two culprits  of your erection overwhelms you. Everything seems to break you down in pieces, slowly adjusting for her comfort as the mess of the food gets all over you and the leather—all sticky and sweet, and her actions still surprisingly discreet.

She lets go of the overwhelming suction and lets her tongue dance around your length, insinuating the rendition of her upcoming masterclass that sounds generic but feels just as insane as her other oral skills. She doesn’t care if it makes a mess all over her, you and the car, as she scoops more of the ice cream and spreads it out all over your length, coating every inch with the dulcet dessert that just made you throb. It earns a giggle out of her, her bubbly facade an opposition of the sin she’s doing all over you and no one can blame you for feeling this way—it’s just the way her face looks eager to please you, those dexterous fingers spreading it all out and teasing you, and her tongue collecting the colorless liquid that’s spurting out of your slick and the culprit of your weakness.

It’s getting messier and you love it, but this is rather new and still unorthodox.

“God, it’s y-your tongue—just your fucking tongue.” Sana’s eyes are ambiguous, to say the least, flashing out like waning crescents that balances things off, because what she’s dealing with is such great, filthy work no one can ever top. The ice cream’s beginning to melt, so she scoops some and tops your mushroom tip with it, letting the coldness make you utter sounds of pleasure and she just plays with it, with you.

She sucks you like a lollipop, even better than one as the moment your cock becomes clean with all the licking she’s doing, she scoops more and lets the liquid ooze all over your length and repeat the same process again. She continues pumping you into submission, that cruel bit of prolonged pleasure and the agony under her control just sends you into elation. 

She works her wonder between your legs messily while you get to relax and be the only one that can experience this? Well, that’s the wonder of the one and only Minatozaki Sana.

Her mouth lets you loose, and her tongue spirals you out of control yet you contain it and let the periodical throbs be the message of her labor. Your fingers find her brown locks, an outlet to fight a pleasure and a signal that lets Sana know you’re crumbling down slowly.

It’s possibly a hard sight to see such a great outfit slowly being besmirched, but it’s the beauty of a great blowjob—it’s not just her mouth that will be messy, and she knows it too well.

“You wanna know my favorite dessert, baby?” Sana interrupts, holding your cream-sheathed cock firm and occupied while she looks at you endearingly with such a suggestive intent.

You can barely articulate sentences because she fucked you up, but you manage to maintain your composure albeit knees loose, letting her take the upper hand as you mouth spills profanities.

“My cock?”

“Yeah, amongst other things but I’d say a banana split.” Sana returns her proactive assault all over your creamy tip, tongue playing with the leaking slit then she blows you methodically right after, earning the best of moans from your lips. “Hope the cream comes quickly too, though.”

She never really backs down because she never does, and she’ll play and suck you off until you’re probably wrung out dry.

Sana never fails to deliver, but this one is unique and possibly annoying, amongst other things. 

(You’d be damned to dress your bottom-half up with the sticky ice cream all over your dick, on your way to somewhere comfortable.)

“We can actually order a legitimate bana split but you’re choosing to just suck me raw—my god.”

“I mean we can but—” Sana sloshes her tongue over your head, bobs her head up and down before elicit a loud pop. “—this is better. I’ll make you feel good, just relax.”

You already are, and you’re nearing your wit’s end.

It’s sticky and messy, and that’s all you can see when the brunette blur pulls out and there’s nothing more sensational than this when she dives right in, again.

Sana has her hands begin the assault on your sack, massaging the primary reservoir of her reward, wringing it slowly and drawing you closer and closer towards the edge. You weren’t just begging under your words which was almost inaudible, but yearning for her to let you cum as her heavenly mouth does the job, and so are her dexterous fingers that finds every inch of nether regions checked. She preens and keens over throbbing dick, making you elicit the greatest of moans mankind has ever heard, and so are her hums and those seldom gags from her bobbing.

The ice cream smeared all over is just a mere thought from you as the delectable desserts stain your seat covers, but it was a mere predicament since the real problem is lying between your legs, ready to wring you out dry.

“Can feel you throbbing, baby. Let it out—let it out inside my throat.” She dives in, relentless with her pursuits and you throb with her profound name for you again but even with such endearing words,  cumming is all you really care for.

“Your fucking mouth—god, let me cum—” 

You swallow, choke a little on your spit as your hands grip her harshly, pushing her limits as you’re a mess inside her throat, cumming rapidly.

It was in quick succession, spurts painting her throat as the inevitable came, pushing you through with strings of her own drool, an addition to the depraved sight of you being an utter mess.

Sana really fulfills it, and you cream all over her lips and face with your dying spurts, which she doesn’t seem to bother, her hands an utter mess which she chooses to invest annoyance in.

“Well, I think I didn’t think this through.” Sana vents, licking the cum and cream all over her lips as she wipes the remnants on her cheeks, smiling through the debauchery.

“There’s alcohol in the glovebox.”

“Like I can reach it.” Sana laughs with the predicament the both of you are in, and it’s contagious, silly with her actions which you always love.

“Well, that’s a problem we don’t need to sweat for.”

It isn’t technically one, but she may be the biggest problem there is right now, and possibly even later. You never thought of this high subsiding between the both of you, and her ferocious actions says otherwise.

You’re diving in, head first.

Maybe, technically hers. 

—

You’re still in this flummoxed state, letting your thoughts flood in as you can’t believe what Sana’s brain came up on the backseat of your car.

“Well, I guess I may need to wipe that clean tomorrow. Nayeon is gonna kill me if she sees this.”

“You can just bring it to the car wash, duh.” Sana retorts, eyebrows raising as she caresses your clothed thighs with her hands, a form of reassurance. “Besides, don’t mind that, we gotta finish this ice cream once we get home, I’m not wasting this.”

“Possibly dick-flavored now—no thanks.” You laugh and she does the same, eyes still on the road as she hits you playfully.

“You’re no fun! But don’t say you didn’t like what I just did to you.”

You sigh, knowing anything she does gets you swooning or yearning for more. “I never said that so, yeah—but next time, not in the backseat, alright? Guess you’ll cross that down on your bucket list?”

Sana nods, and she curls up that wicked smile on her lips, knowing she won you over. “Yeah, and there’s one more thing I wanted to do with you since nobody can finally see us when we get home.”

You’re piqued, catching a glimpse of her as you’re ready for what monstrosity that may unfold. “What is it?”

Sana whispers, gently and coquettish. “Want you to do it in my ass. Like how you did it to Eunha.”

It’s wicked and insane, yet she always wins in the end. Of course, her triumph wouldn’t end here as there’s still a long night ahead for the both of you, and that is if you wanted to be enlightened with her experiments.

She’ll look offended when she hears that. Of course she will, because she’s perfectly capable of being subtle—practically part of her job description to look so inconspicuous when she’s out and about being the celebrity that she is. Never know when she’ll get asked for photos or autographs or whatever else she needs to do if she bumps into a fan or ten.

And you’ll be laughing and smiling at the bullshit that oozes out of her. Remind her the multitude of times that you’ve had to cover up for her because she needed to ‘rub one out’ before a set or delay the shoot for another half hour because she couldn’t help but get her makeup ruined.

Totally not your fault, by the way.

And you could go on and on and on about it, go take a walk through memory lane with all your shenanigans with Somi across the entire world. Name a place and she’s probably gotten you involved in some obscene scheme somewhere in the area. Busan, Paris, New York—it’s like she’s collecting some goddamn postcards everytime she’s fucked in a country.

But what you’re looking at right now, with your own two eyes ultimately sums it all up.

Because, look: Somi is hot, and she knows it. Her tits are peaking out of that one piece, fabric bulging out at the swell of her breasts just to show everyone that yes, her tits are as big as the deep cut of her swimsuit, her entire goddamn back is out for fucking free which is an entire thing to marvel at on its own and her ass, shapely, superbly slappable as it is, is swallowing up what’s left.

And she doesn’t a fuck who sees. Even flaunts it to whoever's lucky enough to pass by the pool when she's laid out on the lounger like a veritable snack. Which, you know, if you’re being completely honest, more power to her.

It’s not like you’re complaining about it. You’re more just—

“–Saying that you’re really bad at the whole secretive, subtle thing.” A shrug of your shoulders, enjoying the sweet taste of coconut at every sip. “I mean, have you seen what you’re wearing?”

“Of course I have.” Her fingers tiptoe down her thighs, running them through the edges of the blue fabric and giving it a slight tug; that snap filling the air when it hits skin. “I think it makes my ass pop out a lot more.”

And you're inclined to agree, adding the fact that her thighs are accentuating everything else she's got, and she's a walking, talking thirst trap that you try and fail to handle, twenty four seven, seven days a week.

“And my tits too.” Oh, get the fuck out of here.

“You are really not selling your case well.” You’re shaking your head with a laugh when she starts to squeeze her own tits, pushing them up and nearly making them spill out the top.

“Babe, I'm telling you, I can be very quiet.” That smug little look on her face does nothing but convince you of the fact that she really can't. “And really sneaky too.”

Queue the eyebrow wags, that shit eating grin that always spell trouble with a capital T, and she's sitting up straight to look at you.

“If you want to–” Now she's egging you on, jutting her chest out at you as if you need any more encouragement to go along with this game of hers. “I can show you how good I am at both right now?”

She's crossing her legs, tilting her head just the way she knows would hook you in. Braided ponytail resting on one side of her chest, stray strands falling down her face—she has it down to a science when it comes to luring you in.

You're putting your drink down and raising your sunglasses up—Not because it was the polite thing to do when a pretty lady asks you a question.

It's to let her know you're staring right at her tits when you say, “And how, pray tell–” You tear away from her chest to look up at her grinning face. “Would you go about doing that?”

“Well, I heard the bathroom's pretty big,” she starts, playing around with her braid, staring past you for a moment. She stands up, taking a towel with her as she starts her walk.

“And I can be really quiet when I'm on my knees.”

Now that, you're sure, is another concept you'll never associate with her.

That's not to say she isn't trying to be quiet, your cock in her mouth and all, her gags echoing off the walls certainly don't help.

Especially when you're thrusting your hips and making an absolute mess out of her face; tears already starting to run down her cheeks, hand tight on that braid to tug away at your leisure, spit already drooling down in droves over her chin.

You can tell she loves every second of it, those eyes of hers looking up at you with that elated glint in them that you’d think she planned all of this (oh, you bet your ass she did). Hands behind her back, tilting her head back just right for you to slide in deep, groin to nose until she’s gasping for air.

She’s got you right where she wants you, and you have her right where you want her to be, because apparently all Jeon Somi needs to understand the word subtlety is your cock and a room to fuck her in.

And you’re never really given a chance to say no when it comes to her, considering the benefits that she can offer when you agree.

Especially when you hear her gag on your length, and she’s trying to keep some form of decorum fighting back the need to pull you out of her sweet lips to take a breath. She’ll power through it, take it all on the nose and give you a grin while you’re sliding your cock back into her throat.

A proper trooper, she is.

“And here I thought–” You’re almost tempted to pull out of her lips, give her the chance to answer you when you’re questioning how silent she really is when she’s slobbering all over your dick. So when she’s tugging the string holding her one piece up to expose her breasts, and you’re looking at them as if it’s your first time seeing a pair of tits as big as hers. “You can keep quiet.”

You reach down to palm one, feeling the weight of them in your hand; letting the soft pillows give under your fingers as you squeeze, the hard nub of hers rubbing against your palm. And she’s moaning all over your cock, these small vibrations adding to the already addictive sensation of her hot, wet mouth.

Somi makes a move to pull away, finally getting her hands on you to jerk you off. “I thought I was doing a good job,” she says, licking her lips off any spittle, taking it into her mouth before letting a glob fall down onto your tip. “I’m just making sure you’re all nice and wet before you fuck me–” Her lips pout, eyes taking a quick glance around the bathroom, stroking you lazily. “Anywhere, really. Take your pick.”

The choices aren’t much, even with how fancy of a bathroom this was. Every single one has its own appeal—watch her face contort in pleasure when you have her fucked against the bathroom counter, or her tits shoved in your face as she rides you in one of the stalls, maybe even have her chest pressed against the shower wall when you fuck her against it.

All these options presented before you, and you settle with the simplest one. No reason for it, really, except for maybe the fact that you really, desperately need to fuck a load into her, and every second wasted is one that’s not your cock inside of her.

“On your hands and knees for me, please?” The glee in her face as she sends you a devious grin, leaning in to give your head a quick kiss before doing what you’ve told. Stroking yourself as she bends over, the angle of her back arching looking so unspeakable fine that her ass sticks out all the more, and you’re muttering a little ‘fuck me’ under your breath watching it all happen in front of you.

“Like this?” Her head turns back, smirk on her lips, eyebrow raised, ass wagging left and right. You spot that little damp spot right where her pretty little cunt is, and you’re kneeling down behind her, thumbing the stain and running circles over it.

“Just like that, baby,” you murmur, snaking up to pull the swimsuit to the side, her pussy glistening and the thought of having a taste is tempting you so damn badly. Shame you’ll have to postpone it back in the hotel room, though the heat enveloping the tip of your cock as you inch your way inside her walls is doing wonders to you nonetheless. “God, so wet already?”

She’s completely in her element, the satisfaction in her sighs as you bottom out, sticking her ass out even as you’re balls deep in her already. “Been wet since we got here,” she admits, hand reaching back to pull the edges of her swimsuit even more, stretching the fabric over the valley of her ass. “And I’ve been–fuck, right there–been horny since we got down to the lobby.”

Your hand is sliding its way up her ass, following that defined line of her spine, enjoying the way she’s shivering under your touch, up until you reach the back of her neck, fingers reaching up to her braid and giving it a quick tug. She makes this surprised gasp when her head gets pulled back at every deep thrust, letting out a sultry giggle. “So rough today.”

“Can you blame me?” Your palm lands on her ass, that beautiful sound that resonates around the bathroom, fingers digging into the mark you left. “You’ve been teasing me with your ass all day.” Give her another slap on the ass, and you’re ramping up your pace with her.

This teasing hum slips out of her lips, and you just know if she could turn her head back at you she’d have that diabolical little shit eating smirk all over her face. “Don’t be scared, babe,” she purrs, all breathy and moaning and good Lord you’re not going to last long when she starts spouting shit like–“Everyone can look, but no one gets to fuck this ass but you.”

And, really, what else can you do but plow her harder?

Your grip around her hair tightens, cursing at how her cunt tightens up around you, tugging her up so her back is pressing up against your chest, and the view of her tits bouncing at each stroke you is immaculate. Your hands move to wrap around her, one to grope a breast, another to feel her abs flex as she takes you.

Your lips latch onto her neck, sucking and nipping at the wet skin, lapping up the sweat and thinking that you’re utterly fucking gone for this woman’s body—tits, ass, cunt and all. You bite down hard on the one spot that has her screaming, her hands gripping your wrists as you follow it with a suck.

Leaving her with that red mark, pumping her full of cock while you pinch a nipple, whispering filth in her ear; and she’s drinking it all up, grin on her face as you spout just what you’ll be doing to  her once you get back to your room, giggling at the air being blown into her ear.

“Fuck, I’d let you do that in the elevator,” she replies after one of your fantasies—whichever one it was—gets spoken out, and you’re grunting out a chuckle. “Give the security guard watching the camera a good show and all–”

Somi’s as fucked in the head as you are, and that’s one of the reasons why you’ve stayed with her all these years. 

Who wouldn’t, when it’s Somi you’re talking about?

You’re growling her name out, your hips erratic, chasing that high that’s coming closer and closer and closer that you’re not hearing her begs of wanting it too, pleading with you that she’s as close as you are, her pussy gripping snug, as if she’s already milking the cum out of you.

Yet you want her to come apart first, want to feel her convulse around your cock, wail in your ears, grip your wrists hard enough to bruise and fuck me it’s already happening, her juices coating your shaft, drops of it falling down on the tiles. She’s shaking all over, and you’re only adding more pleasure damage to her brain, fucking her over her orgasm that it’s getting her to tear up.

Fuck her till she’s cumming again, letting her go and getting her back down to the ground, pressing your entire weight against her until she’s all mush and putty in your hands. Somi’s still begging you curses and pleases, wanting more and more and please fucking cum you son of a bitch, I need it, the greedy girl that she is, her walls pulsing around you hot, dripping girlcum until you’re pulling out of her, cock throbbing and in need to—

“Shit–” You’re jerking cum all over her ass, staining white on flesh, blue fabric growing darker. Streaks shoot up to paint her back, and it is beautiful. Thick, white lines cover all over, heavy blobs of them landing on her ass that you can’t help but give one last smack, slapping your cock on her asscheeks when you’ve run dry.

You collapse next to her, leaving a kiss on her cheek as she gives you a satisfied smile, the both of you breathing deep, relaxing in the afterglow. Somi reaches out to cup your cheek, fingers running through your hair.

“Told you I can be quiet,” she says, and that gets you to laugh.

“Your screaming might’ve gotten hotel security running over here.” Now Somi’s joining in.

“Good thing I brought a towel. What would they think seeing your cum over my back?”

“That you got dicked down in the public bathroom.” A light slap on your cheek makes you smile.

“Well, duh.” She’s rolling her eyes. “But I prefer not to have to explain that.”

Somi’s getting up on shaky legs, and you’re right there with her, cleaning the cum off her back with the towel, heading back out to the pool like nothing happened.

Your beautiful flower has yet to bloom—bed sheets tangled like webs around your legs. Her fingers still splayed across your chest; small, slender, and warm. Five digits of conductive contact that have kept you tethered through the night. Sunday morn—still quite early, quiet and birds-a-chirpin’. You two have so much time in the world.

She stirs slightly against you—like milk against coffee, her body adjusts but doesn’t wake.

“Mhmm.”

“Go back to sleep, my love.”

“Mhm.” A reply of someone who pretends to—maybe she does, but with her you can never really tell.

You look at her like a miracle you cannot believe you were allowed to keep. The soft, gentle curve of her cheek— the small line between her brows, where she is pondering even in her sleep. You trace them with your eyes— you don’t dare use your hands, because if you woke her, she would furrow like a wasp roused too early, stinging even while dreaming.

Her face is against your shoulder now—migrated there without you noticing. A visage even Aphrodite would be jealous of—okay, that might be hubris, but you’ll happily be Eros and get pricked if it means spending the rest of your life with this Psyche.

You’re used to this, you reason to yourself; every night she starts on her side of the bed—a perfectly soft pillow that is assigned to her, and somehow every morning she is here—tucked against you; a comma inside a sentence that was supposed to have ended a few thoughts ago.

Her lashes flutter—she’s dreaming, a grand adventure must be happening inside her beautiful mind.

Your lips find her forehead—lightly; barely a whisper, barely a kiss, barely a thought in that sleepy-head’s lived bliss.

“...felt that,” she mumbles softly.

“Thought you were sleeping.”

“I’m allowed to be asleep and know things.” 

“I’m pretty sure that’s not how it works.”

“Well, no one else sleeps like me.”

Brightness and contrast, now that she wakes. Slowly uncoiling like a hungry snake. First her eyes flutter, then a small stretch, then a huge sigh of someone forced out of a sketch. Because in that fantasy nothing’s really changed— reality just introduces colors bright yellows, whites, and orange. Because in that dream we were still doing exactly what we are doing now, which is absolutely nothing, which is everything, which is the thing I would trade all my other days for just to keep having over and over and over until the last of my mornings.

Mornings with her have a shape that you can mold with your eyes closed. She wakes in stages: 

First her eyes—oh those eyes that glimmer on a good day, but are absolutely empty when she rises. 

Then her tiny stretch accompanied by the most feral groan—dramatics that would signal neighbors that the bear’s done with hibernation and she’s ready to feast again.

Then the hand that reaches for you before the gears of her brain even begin to work. You wonder if the habit sticks on days you both wake up in different beds—work, travel, obligations that seem to try but usually fail to keep you two apart.

She palms your cheek. “Hngg, you’re so warm, my love…” Her palm is cold on your cheek—and you would happily freeze for it

“And your hands are so cold,” you playfully retaliate.

“You are cold.”

“Warm me up then.”

“Hmmph~ Demanding.”

“Nope, just happily married.”

“Ok, you win.”

You pull her closer—defying physics on how it defines close. Two atoms converging against each other—her body slots against yours, as it’s been attuned to for years. It was never a learned skill—just something that felt natural the second she first fell asleep on your couch in the spring of your second date.

There is hunger in the way she turns her face up to you that has really nothing to do with hunger and everything to do with being known— you knowing her. You know the taste of her mouth at every stage of her waking up; warm and soft and slightly rough from a night of breathing you in. You know the sound she makes when you kiss the corner of her lips. You know the way her hand finds the back of your neck— and stays there, As if it is the answer to a question her body has been asking.

And she has been asking. Her mouth has been begging for an answer ever since her lips first meet yours—a question as silent as the breaths you both exchange and an answer as sloppy as both of your tongues make.

Your hand slides down her back under her shirt, a shirt where ownership is always a point of contention. Her skin feels like the perfect breakfast: milky, smooth, and some parts jiggly (you’re quite unsure if you’re thinking of pancake or a panna cotta, but if somehow there’s a meal that combines both, then that is her.)

“Jieun.”

“Hnng.”

“Wanna?”

“Mhmm?”

“Words, my love.”

“Yes—of course.” Her eyes finally open, wide and clear and looking straight into yours. “Yes, please, my love.”

Your lips sink into her mouth yet again—a warm pressing of lips, hungry and passionate. Her hands find you beneath the clean sheets—gentle, light as the grass when it sways in the wind, patient as the weather in early spring.

There it is—the all too familiar undoing of her, like being searched for by someone in no hurry to find you—not because you are lost (no, no, no) but because she already knows where you are. You slowly realize sheets might not stay clean after all of this, but that’s fine.

You have all morning—all day, really. Mornings that used to be didn’t have it like this; now, they have a pulse, you can feel them, you’re holding her hand right now, and you never want to let go. Not ever—not when it’s this good, not when it’s this perfect, not when it’s her.

Slow— everything about her today is slow. The slow parting of her legs, the slow rise of her hips to meet you—slick and ready, the slow smile that spreads across her face when you finally—finally, slide inside her and she exhales like a woman who has been holding her breath for the whole of the night. Slow— slow like the way you both like it. Slow— slow like the Sundays you’re used to. Because Sundays are days where you are not needed anywhere. Because Sundays you both just get to be here.

“Here,” you coo into her neck. Chest to chest under your shared duvet, her arms around your neck, her legs wrapped around your waist, and your faces so close to each other you breathe the same breath. “Here is the only place I need to be today, my love.”

The bed creaks slowly with the motion it hosts. She rocks slowly with you—a beat with no urgency. The sun gets to do sunny things while the bed gets to be laid by two horny human beings.

And her? She gets to be the entire reason you get up in the morning—except on Sundays, when the whole point is that you two don’t.

“Jieun?”

“Mhmm?”

“I love you.”

“I love you—” You can feel her lips change shape as she smiles against your mouth. “—even when you kiss me too early.”

“That wasn’t too early, was it?”

“It was.” She kisses you again. “My love, I’m almost there.” She is cumming—a small held breath; tiny tremors both of you share. Then comes the release; you feel her breathe in, satisfied, into your mouth. You follow shortly after, and the euphoria still leaves you speechless.

Neither of you pulls apart. Two horny peas in a pod unwilling to be plucked.

There is a word for this, this refusal to leave the warmth of the sheets, of a body, of a moment. Clinomania. The love of the bed— never knew until I met you that a word like that could ever be spoken as a love story. That is what every Sunday with you becomes. A love story told in the language of not-getting-up.

Up is a direction you will consider later. For now—maybe you’ll go down on her.

Right now it was her ass’s turn to be filled again, so the dancer’s cock was relentlessly forcing its way into her no-longer-so-tight hole. The guy grabbed her by the thighs so he could thrust into her harder and bury his cock all the way to the base in her ass. She moaned and gasped louder, opening her mouth and sticking out her tongue like a bitch in heat.

Someone took the opportunity to shove his cock into her mouth, impaling her at both ends. At first, Rei choked, which made her clench her ass involuntarily. The guy who was fucking her back entrance moaned and came as he felt her sudden tightness.

Rei felt her ass being filled with cum for the umpteenth time that afternoon. She felt the heat spreading through her insides as more and more of that viscous fluid was poured inside her, mixing with the loads of many other dancers. Rei was exactly where she wanted to be.

The next thing she felt was the cock that had been fucking her ass so deliciously pulling out of her. The fingers exploring her pussy also withdrew, so that the cock and the hand seemed to belong to the same owner. Rei tried to see who it was, but one eye was still covered by the semen from the last load, and her entire field of vision in the other eye was limited to the abdomen of the person who was fucking her throat.

Strong hands gripped her on both sides of her head; Rei simply gave in, relaxing her throat muscles as much as she could. Just as she’d expected, the cock went as deep into her mouth as humanly possible, but this time she was prepared and didn’t choke, at least not as much. Or at least not enough to clench her ass involuntarily.

Relentless, just the way she liked it, the dancer fucked her mouth nonstop. Thrust after thrust, he rammed his cock down the idol’s throat as if it were a battering ram trying to break down a door; the guy only stopped when it became clear that Rei was gasping for air. It was just a few seconds’ respite so she could catch her breath, and then the thrusts resumed; it wasn’t long before another load of cum was deposited inside Rei.

The cock exploded, shooting cum straight down Rei’s throat; she wondered if that load would end up mixing with the one that had just filled her ass. Maybe that helped her swallow it all without too much trouble, just a slight cough when her throat was no longer being used as a sex toy.

Rei was released and fell face-first, one cheek resting on the floor and her ass still in the air. The eye that wasn’t covered in semen didn’t help her see any better, either, because sweat was drenching her face. Rei was completely at the mercy of whatever the dancers wanted to do to her, and that made her heart race in a sinister way.

She was about to protest because it seemed like everyone had forgotten about her. She could hear heavy breathing and people moving around her, but no one was using her holes or spilling their fluids on her. A shame, in her opinion.

Just as Rei had opened her mouth to speak and was halfway through forming a word, she felt soft hands part her buttocks and someone dive into her center to devour her. Her unfinished protest turned into a moan as a tongue began to explore her holes. With skillful movements, that tongue traced the contours of her pussy, drawing circles that came closer and closer to her entrance, until the tongue pulled away to explore her ass. The girl’s back entrance received the same treatment; the tongue explored it without hesitation, pressing and pushing its way inside.

Just when the girl thought all the attention would be focused on her back entrance, the person who was eating her ass slipped two fingers into her pussy. That’s when Rei realized she was dealing with a female dancer, her delicate hands left no room for doubt. Not to mention the way she knew exactly where to press with her fingers or her tongue.

Then another pair of hands grabbed and lifted Rei’s face. The girl instinctively opened her mouth to take a cock in, but instead her face slammed into a soaking wet pussy. Instantly, that person’s fluids mixed with the many others that were staining Rei’s face. She couldn’t help but smile as the vaginal fluids added to the delicious mix of flavors and scents soaking her beautiful face. She stuck out her tongue to give more pleasure to the dancer who was now using her face to masturbate.

Naoi Rei was being used as nothing more than a sex toy. Naoi Rei was happy; she was exactly where she wanted to be.

A/N: I just had to do this.

Getting her teary-eyed, sloppy with it; manhandling her by the hair, stretching out her jaw, feeling her throat gag while you work yourself in and out of the most divine set of lips; sliding deep until her drool's lacquering your balls and it's all too much.

She just looks up at you: would be grinning if your cock wasn't keeping her mouth busy, would be laughing if you weren't choking every squeal back into her, but it's her eyes doing the real work—sharp, wicked; lit with the most depraved fucking intentions.

You've only really known her for a week, but you get her message loud and clear:

“That all you got?”

Like she's winning. Like she's not the one between your legs, poolside, half-submerged, a natural on her knees. One-piece swimsuit hugging nice and snug, fingers digging into your thighs, tears streaming clean down naked cheeks, gasping for air.

You tug her head back, lips gliding off you until your shaft's slipping out—there's a thick strand that follows, saliva bridging her swollen lips to your cockhead, catching the underwater lights, shiny sheen in the dark.

Her chest heaves, nylon pulls tight across her tits; she wipes her mouth with the back of her hand, it's purely for show—she clearly has little problem getting a bit messy.

And yeah—there's the grin.

You try to slap it off her face with your cock.

“Too much for you?” Yeji asks; and it's probably the first complete sentence you've heard from her pretty mouth.

—

All you've got is half an hour ago: you, stepping out of your suite—Yeji, stepping out of hers. Your temporary next-door neighbour, wrapped in a hotel towel with two thin straps tied at the back of her neck, barely hanging on. A flick of the wrist, that's all it would take.

Would be the closest you'd been to her—except for your adjoining balconies, side-by-side, where you're pretty goddamn certain she'd timed herself to your smoke breaks.

Night after night, leaning over the railing to catch a buzz from her side, a breath through the gap; little choked-off whimpers starting up the same second as your lighter and climbing, shameless and pornographic, until the cigarette had burned down to your fingers.

But face-to-face? She stared you down, dead-to-rights, and let the towel drop.

Gave you a full look at her—that sinful silhouette flooding fantasies into your frontal cortex—shit like getting those long smooth legs over your shoulders; your teeth in the swell of her perky high tits; thumbs digging into the plane of her ridged abs to span that ridiculously tiny waist; just tearing that monochrome chequered swimsuit off her and using her, like every inch of her, head-to-toe, is demanding you take her right fucking now—lips, hips, eyes screaming sex, screaming fuck me, screaming—why am I not already impaled on your big, fat cock?

Putting to shame every single image you'd conjured to accompany the self-fucked schlick-schlick-schlick she'd been piping through your window; until she tired of your slack-jawed, dumbfounded, goon-brained stare, tilted her chin towards the elevator and asked—“Going up?”

(Got your hands on her before the doors shut, looped your tongue around hers and wrenched it out of her mouth, pinned her spine to the handrail—determined to find where to touch to convince her that next time she should just jump balcony-to-balcony, seventy-something storeys up, and hand the heavy burden of making her cum her brains out to someone who doesn't need their batteries replaced.)

—

To now: top floor, infinity pool, suite access only, dark and empty this late past midnight.

You'd have followed her off the roof if she'd tipped her chin at the edge. Basically what she's asking you to do now, busy tonguing the question into the underside of your cock.

“Jesus—fuck—Yeji—” you groan, ripped from your throat, music to her ears.

“You know me?” She hums, lips vibrating along your shaft, curving wider—kinda thing that really fucks you up: lidded eyes, sloppy spit-soaked smile wrapped around the girth of you. Cheeks going hollow, seeing if you can find something to fill them with.

“Looked you up,” slips from you, because, yeah, she's so obviously someone—just how she carries herself, type of girl with a gravity, someone worth idolising. “It didn't take long.”

“Shame,” she says. “I kinda liked the idea of us being perfect strangers.”

“We basically are,” you try, rescuing the thought before it turns to mush with the rest of your brain when her tongue draws a wide stripe from behind your balls, up and over, performs an obscene manoeuvre at the head. “You still don't know my name.”

“True.” She comes up; presses a kiss to your tip, tongue flickering over the beads that seep out, savouring your flavour. “Though something tells me you'll have me screaming it in—oh, five minutes?”

“Two,” you answer, and you're detached, sliding into the water next to her, both hands to her waist, fingertips pressed into that flat stomach (you'll make it bulge soon enough). Ignoring that raised eyebrow, the smirk, the oh, please lead the way, handsome stranger.

A split-second eye-to-eye is all you get for now—so take it: chin tipped up, flawless features soaked and moon-lit. Lashes flecked and clumped, cheekbones that'll scar you, a mouth so soft on a face this wrecked—just stops you dead.

(Yeji from your research, from next door, from now—out from the photographs and fantasies and it's a total catastrophe, more than enough to pull you under and hold you there until it's all you have to breathe.)

That's the taste you get; drink it in then hoist her up, spin her, get her squealing for the first time. Pulling her half out of the pool to brace against the vanishing glass—where it all just stops: water trickling quietly over the lip, the whole city strewn out beneath.

You run a hand over a cheek, unhurried, proprietary. That generous handful, cut to measure—porcelain, pristine, peachy-fucking-keen.

“So. How would you like to be fucked tonight?”

Doesn't even bother turning; throws it out into the air. “Haven't you been listening? I gave you six nights of notes—put them to use.”

Fair enough. “Spread your legs. Hands out.”

You fold her over, palms to the infinity edge; she goes with it easy, gets prone like she's done it in her head a thousand times already. Flawless fuckdoll, posable and pliable, all the perverse shit only the most perfect girls can stir; and there it is—the entire problem, presented.

That tight, firm ass.

You could weep. But things are already wet enough.

Got her hitched up and arched, cheeks pulled taut; gleaming, calling you, siren's song under the starlight. A clean deep line running down the curve of her, and lower and lower and lower. One touch and you know you'll find her drenched. Ripe and open. Fated since that first late check-in.

You need both hands, spreading her open with your thumbs, feeling her flex whole against your palm, watching her clench under the attention.

Taking a sec. A pretty girl's asshole always deserves a level of reverence. It's only good manners.

She clocks the hesitation. Turns her head, ganders over her shoulder. Rolls into your grip—slow. “Knew it.”

Yeah, there's no denying it—you're already pulling the swimsuit over to the side, testing the stretch, peeling it over her right cheek to get a proper view. “Guilty. Not like you've made it easy for me.”

“And yet it still took you this long,” she says—but so what, you've always been one to wait until the water's warm before dipping a toe in. “Just how much are you—”

“An ass guy? Well, for the right one—” You dip low, let the water raise her hips higher, wade in to press her knees to the wall so you can bless the chlorine and salt and skin with a long, lingering kiss. “Incurable. Terminal.”

“So it's a pre-existing condition,” she says, cause, duh, she loves playing the tease, being the centre of attention; her whole occupation. “Since when?”

“It's a whole chronic thing. Flares up seasonally.”

“Seasonally.” Ecstatic; plays with it around her tongue. “Like around the holidays?”

“Something like that. Or I guess, whenever an ass like yours comes around.”

“Charmer,” and it all gets lost in a gasp when you map that unholy crack splitting her in two—from where she's pinkest, sopping, waiting God knows how long, up to the spot she's braced for—and she jolts, frantic and filthy; a whine you push clean through and out her throat.

“Says the girl that's been shoving it in my face ever since I got here.” Just holding her—shivering against your lips, buzzing beneath your tongue—nose buried deep in the undeniably tightest hole that's haunted your entire stay.

She mumbles, then laughs, already breathless; throws your line back at you: “Guess I'm guilty, too.”

(And Yeji's really been your fucking doom—bent over a gym fountain a second too long; ducking into a sauna with a towel desperately hanging on; letting her panties ride up at the buffet line—sending you a wink back, like yeah, you're welcome, catch you at the next loop of amenities.

Gifting you just enough of a taste to put you on edge, type of shit a guy like you can barely handle; forcing you to do the only thing you really could—go back to your room and run the images filthy through every possible scenario while listening to her on the other side.

Fantasies, from top to bottom: following her into the gym showers, fucking her against the tiles with the water still running. Stripping her in the empty cedar heat and sucking the sweat between her toes, right out her pits, drinking what collects along her spine. Bending her over the breakfast bar, scattering the little jam jars, spreading her open right there over the pastries while she's gripping the countertops and telling you to hurry, hurry, hurry—

Well. You've got your buffet now.)

“At least I know you're not boring.” Yeji coos; another slow suggestion, grinding against your nose, down to your chin. “Won't just lay me down, fuck me nice, tuck me in, right?”

“That's not really on the menu.”

“No? What is?”

You laugh between her cheeks, low and mean into her puckered hole; like nice is even an option, like there's another version of all this: drinks at the bar, dinner downstairs, you making a mockery of smart-casual, her in some sheer cocktail dress.

Nah. Fuck that—it'd still end with her in a toilet stall the moment she turned and bent over, silk pulled taut, giving you the slope and the shape and the tuck of her cheeks at the tops of those long legs.

So you settle with: “I think it's pretty fucking obvious, Yeji.”

“Thought so.”

It's holy work; gaping her open with just your mouth. Tentative, then thorough—tongue flat and dragging, then the tip pushed up and in, working spit into that tight ring until it softens and gives. Getting your mouth filthy with it—chin slick, slobbering, chlorine tang giving way until it's just her, Yeji, keening, rocking back onto your lips.

Trying to fuck your face proper, letting you—practically begging you—devour her best you can, until the sun's up and the chemicals in this pool aren't nearly enough to wash off what you've done to her.

She cries out; wails, guttural and nonsensical but you get the gist. The last of her dignity leaving her—ass higher, chasing the thing girls like her are supposed to pretend they're too composed to want; some rough stranger to rearrange their stomachs, fuck them truly brainless.

Makes sense to offer her something to really wrap her pink lips around; slurring it right into where she's tilted up and open and demanding, more honest than her mouth's been all night: “Want to know who I am now?”

“God—” is a good start, might as well be on the money with how you're making her feel; but she's already drifting lanes when your tongue takes another lap. “Yes, fucking—tell me what to scream—”

You give her your name. Then, a spit-slick thumb, sinking knuckle-deep into her cunt—so, so easy, she's soaked enough to take three.

“Oh-fucking-shit—” she whines, wails out; sliding herself down your tongue.

Simply getting her off: thumb curling inside that sopping slit, tongue twisting into her ass; two different rhythms that have Yeji grinding down onto one and back on the other, can't pick, doesn't have to.

Until she's clenching on both at once, flooding your lips, your hand. Cumming apart, so shameless, so noisy, letting every insomniac know who it is that's wrecking their sleep schedules vis-à-vis fucking up Yeji's tightest hole.

Yeah. It sounds so sweet wailed from Yeji's lungs.

So keen to hear it more, over and over, gonna fuck it out of her in every octave.

That has you pulling her along the side to the shallow end, the steps at the corner. Rimmed boneless, happy to be plucked and placed at your discretion—which is a step higher, heart-shaped ass just above the water, buoyant, begging to be broken.

“Where are we going,” she's mumbling, not really asking.

“Somewhere with better traction. Pool water's not the greatest lube. Won't be able to fuck you right.”

“So romantic.”

“I have my priorities.”

Priorities which amount to getting up on your feet, wet cockhead notched against her saliva-soaked hole, pressing at that insanely tight squeeze.

Fuck. It just makes you smile. It makes Yeji laugh.

“What's so funny?”

“Just—” she starts; bending as you please, happily at your mercy, as good as girls get. “One-track mind, aren't you?”

And that gets you to laugh back. Drag the head of your cock down to her cuntlips, making her shiver, before levelling it where you really want it. “Can't help who I am.”

“You could at least pretend to have other interests.”

“Could. Won't. Sorry.”

“Too late to apologise, anyway,” she curses, all fuck-tipsy, “Just gotta find a way to make up for it.”

Yeji opens for you—slow, grudging; the head of you nestled against her then past, breaching, the agonising stretch. Pale around the widest part of you. Tiny little ring, straining to take a brand-new shape.

Each push forces these exhales out of her, shoulder blades pinching together, spine dipping low, and you can hear her teeth grit as she spits—no, she's drooling into the water beneath.

Whining, whimpering through it all, repeating a mantra that gets your blood pumping, cock-to-brain: “so-stupidly-big-so-fucking-good—”

The fucking feel of it. Searing clutch beyond reason, seizing everything it can take, won't give an inch without a fight. Making you work for it.

Her tiny frame trying to decide—keep you out or drink you in—until Yeji cries out something biblical and makes her choice; taking your name, twisting it round her tongue, pulling it as wide as it'll go, until you're seated to the hilt and there's nothing left of it at all.

Mouth agape, lips hanging open. This airy gasp. Fed so fucking full.

You lose her for a moment, somewhere below her own surface, submerged in it all.

Reach down for her: “Yeji?”

“Mm—” and she surfaces, glassy eyes blinking open to find you behind her; shy school-girl crush or insatiable slut, who's to say. The same taunt calls it for the latter—”That all you got?”

You match her smile. “Think you can handle more?”

“I've been handling worse than you in my head all week.” She grins, brilliant, defiant, delirious and spoiling for more; squeezes her ass around you for good measure. “Catch up.”

Game on, starter-pistol fired—pulling almost all the way out, the sight of her clinging on, rim dragging up your shaft, trying to follow.

And then driving your cock all the way fucking home.

Good news—Yeji's got her voice back; screams skimming over the water and plummeting down the building below. You give her no space to shape it into anything but a beg; a plea, one-syllable slurs fucked apart as you set your rhythm.

Something about your cock: size, shape, ability to stretch her so fucking wide and kill any chance of sitting normally for a good while—your hips cracking into her ass hard enough to make it jump, wet swimsuit snapping against the underside of her cheek, the slap, smack of you bottoming out ringing across the empty rooftop.

Yeji happily lets it happen.

“Christ, yes—” throwing her fine ass back to meet you; every pound, piston, piledrive you fuck into her, over and over, “—use me—do anything you fucking want. Bet it's better than any fucking cigarette.”

And this is the real gift of a stranger: no rules either of you signed, no history to handle gently, nothing owed come morning.

You could do anything.

Mark her up, pull her hair, hands around her throat.

The selfish squeeze around you is all the green light you need.

Digging your fingers into the top of her swimsuit, wrenching it down. All that black and white slicking off her wet skin, setting her tiny tits free, nipples going stiff; fabric bunching uselessly at her waist.

“Fuck—” cut off from her when you gather the swimsuit-turned-reins, haul her hips flush; balls-deep in her ass until the sobs choke down into—“More.”

So needy. You bring your palm down on her cheek, a crack across the rooftop. Seeing your handprint bloom pink; a nice little souvenir, something to find in the mirror tomorrow.

“I know you can do better than that,” she needles, primed for worse. “All that eye-fucking and now you go shy on me—”

The other cheek—harder—breaking the taunt into a whiny moan.

“Getting there, but—” she recovers, something mean and vicious being prepped, something that'll deserve punishment; spat back at you with what's left of that grin, “—why are you still fucking me like you're going to see me again?”

Well.

Pulling your hips back; raising your palm high—and cracking both down faster than friction should allow, harder than you should; chasing that fucked-out-pain-pleasure hissed from her lips that means you're finally getting it right.

“Careful.” You reach, fist a wet rope of her hair, wind it once around your knuckles and pull. “You're gonna make me do some shit we both can't take back.”

“Was that supposed to be a threat?” No hesitation. “I fucking dare you.”

(And that's the thing you've had backwards all week. The whole framing, actually. You've been running this as your fixation—your fetish, your problem to drag back to the room and handle quietly, like you'd packed some shame in your suitcase.

When really she's the one who said take it before you'd laid a finger on her. This cockdrunk, corridor-gaped, irreversibly drilled idol folded over a ledge getting her ass carved out—as if you ever had a say in the matter.)

“You dare me?” You push in deep, wincing at the squeeze, the choke; the slap of your balls against her pussy and she's crying, fucking filth filling your ears. “No, babe—you'll beg me.”

Yeji's straight-up creaming for it, so messy; cunt empty yet spilling anyway, running thick down the inside of her thighs, dripping off her pussy into the water below.

Barely touching her pussy at all—this is all ass. But it's turning her inside-out, wet enough to clog the pool's gutters as surely as you're clogging Yeji's.

Landing you on a diagnosis for your apparently flighty fuck-buddy. You deliver it straight away: “Anal slut.”

That has her head whipping around, scandalised, hilarious to act like this now; like she shouldn't be updating her resume to pitch-perfect anal-cocksleeve.

“Excuse me—”

Another pound, another spank; real fucking joy in railing the comeback out of her before she can land it.

“What did you call me?”

“Don't backtrack.” Getting deep this time. Right where she's hottest, plundering your way into that needy mess, letting it all sit. “Dirty little anal slut. That's who you really are.”

“I—”

“Acting like you're here being very busy, very professional—celebrity bullshit.” You bottom out; she chokes, remembers your fucking name and tries to burst your eardrums with it. “But you were really trying to find this.” Mouth at her ear, the grip of her ass tells you she can feel every word fucked into the back of her skull. “Tell me I'm wrong.”

Nothing comes out—nothing can, apparently. The air's gone from her lungs, whatever she had to say strangled somewhere on the way up. This mouthy little anal slut so thoroughly stunned you almost feel bad for her.

Almost.

Spanking her back to life. Palm to her cheeks, trying to resuscitate her—get a little juice back in her, enough to see your girl through to the end.

“Yes—” and there's the plumbing breaking, pool flooding, ready to overflow; has to recite the unholy porn-star's prayer, just to let you know: “—fuck, yes, fine, I'm your anal slut, I'm your—I don't even care. I'm your filthy little anal whore. Do it. Ruin me. Treat me like I fucking deserve—”

There she is.

You reward her (reward yourself, really) with everything—on that brutal borderline—the give and take; thick throbs in her aching asshole, pincer pulses back, a fuck-fight in the dark—marble-sculptured ass turned impressionistic watercolour; every shade of purple and red bruising and marking her skin.

“So deep—oh that's not fair, that's—I'm gonna—I'm—”

It's all going to shit—she's getting greedier and greedier with each go, messily squelching and squeezing, gonna be no other way out of this besides flooding her sphincter with enough cum hoping to slide your way out.

“Every night, making me listen, putting on a fucking show,” you tell her, intent on staking your cock into every square-inch of Yeji's rear-real-estate. “Just for this—so I'd know how you sound when you're fucked right. Now look at you.”

“Yes—God, yes, keep it, keep it exactly—”

It's a dead ringer—hearing it up close instead of through the window. Yeji on edge, about to cum, and now you get the full picture of it, the raw feel—knees giving out under her, hands that stop bracing and start clawing, ass that pushes her full weight onto you and makes it your job to see it through—

—and an urgent, stupid need hits you: can't let this happen without getting her even closer.

Reaching for the swimsuit still bunched at her hips—hopelessly stretched out and loose, ready for its last job. Hauling her up by it, hand over hand, until her back comes up and slaps against your chest. Don't even have to tug to manage it, just an honest suggestion—come up, join me, let me fix this geometry and fuck you into next year.

Bent-over becomes upright, and upright leaves her with nowhere to go but down on your cock, deeper into her ass. Gravity doing you every favour—sinking that tight body until she's feeling all of you and you're bulging right through her.

Snaking your hands free, one finds a tit—palming, groping, laying claim, thumb dragging rough over a nipple; she curves whole into it. Throat working around nothing at all, and that just won't do—two fingers under her jaw to turn her head, to find your mouth, your tongue, been waiting for her this whole time.

“You could've just said you wanted to look at me,” she manages, when your tongue slips from the corner of her mouth, lining her jaw, her neck, lost investigating her collarbone.

(Through the static of your brain; any neurons that aren't firing on Yeji grinding herself into a puddle on your cock, catching up late to the rest of her and realising it might be more than just her glorious ass.

Bare-faced. Never needed anything to start with. All she's got on is what you or the pool or the ledge put there: hair shoved wrong in a hundred different directions, lips an angry pink, eyes red and full of tears, a mark blooming under her jaw that'll have company in due time.

Just so—

So annoyingly pretty; this girl who's been crying and climaxing for twenty minutes straight cause she fucking loves being thrown around, and is still, no contest, the hottest piece of ass you've ever got your cock in.)

Giggling, laughing into your mouth; gets the idea of what's running through your head when you kiss her again—her lips plush and soft and sweet and yours anything but.

Yeah, maybe she is winning after all.

Pumping her asshole crimson; too hard, too fast, going overboard. You slip backwards, lose your footing, recover somewhere down the steps and into the water without ever slipping free. Her back still against your chest, the pool climbing warm around your bodies and taking you entirely; a forearm banded under her tits and a hand splayed low on her stomach. Weightless. Feet touching nothing at all, still speared on your cock, where else would she go.

“Come on,” she breathes, head lolling back onto your shoulder, like you even need the encouragement. “Just fucking flood my ass.”

Of course you do.

The water can't keep up. It sloshes, climbs, pours over the vanishing edge in fat silver sheets with every slam of your hips, fucking into her swollen ass; the rooftop, your whole world trying to drain itself over the side.

Just as you've found the pace she likes best—rough and mean; stuffing her dumb. Tugging her down to the root, driving up into her on the buoyancy, feeding her ass full of your cock.

“You can feel it—can't you? I'm gonna cum—you're gonna make me cum so hard—you asshole—it's all you—”

“I know. Eyes open.”

“I can't—it's too—it's so much—”

“Should've thought of that before you—fuck—”

And she cums, and it takes the fucking floor with it—dropping clean out from under your feet, nothing stopping you from crashing through each storey but the clutch of her ass.

All of her—Yeji: dancer's build, shoulders, abs, thighs, lovely-little-tits—seizing and staying seized, rigid against your chest, around your cock.

Her ass, her ass, her fucking ass—fucked wide, mercilessly milking you, godforsaken grip, crushing clutches that make you wince, bite your lip, call her things that'd go a step too far for anyone else but land as nothing but praise for this cum-starved hotel hookup.

Pulling you into the deep end with her—no run-up, straight off the springboard.

“Inside—” in pieces, one hand pawing back at your neck, “—give it to me, make me feel it, don't you dare pull out, don't you look away, please in my ass—”

As if there's any other choice.

Up into her, letting go; balls emptying, spewing sperm, cock throbbing out the last of it, heavy load fucked past her guts and packed in tight to stay.

Taking every fucking drop—each spurt landing flush. Her lip quivering, stomach fluttering under your palm, pupils blowing wider cause she just can't stop cumming.

She wants this.

Wants to be watched taking it—blissed-out face she can't help making, the proof of what you've fucked into her, every bit of it witnessed.

Winds up the best it can—Yeji cries out what's left; voice wrung hoarse to one sound, just your name, screamed like it's always been hers instead of a word your tongue branded into her cunt a handful of orgasms ago.

“Take it,” you say—but you mean keep it, because it's all hers, locked and loaded since she looked your way and turned around to make sure you got the complete picture. “All the cum you want—like a good fucking girl.”

You hold her, buried in her, plugging her ass full, smearing it around her insides, until you pull back just enough to catch it well up and spill. Thick and white, squelching out past your cock, wisps in the water before it's all washed away, obscene and glorious and gone.

—

It all goes still—the water, the rooftop, the pool around you both. The pair of you casually floating like you might have really drowned up here.

But whatever, you'll deal with it all later; you're cummed out, spent, she's orgasmed into a higher plane of existence and yet you can't stop touching her: mouth at her chin, her throat, wet along her shoulder and collarbone and it's impossible to imagine ever having your fill.

Her lips find yours, and you realise she might be in the same boat.

“I don't feel like myself anymore,” she states, matter-of-fact, dragging a hand over her own belly, incredulous. Still feeling you twitching inside her ass. Reaching her conclusion: “Perfect fucking strangers.”

You chuckle. After all that. “Still strangers?”

She goes quiet, considering it—thumb worrying at her bottom lip. “Haven't decided. Who knows if you're even half as interesting as your cock?”

“Probably not.”

“Doesn't mean I won't give you the chance to prove me wrong.” Deciding for you already. “Carry me back to my room and we'll work it out from there. Tell me things. What you do. Where you're from. How you got so good with—everything. Then I'll let you know if I'd rather keep you around a little longer.”

You shrug. “Seems a bit backwards, doesn't it?”

“Isn't that how you like it?” The grin resurfaces, sharpening on the challenge.

She hooks an arm around your neck as you lift her out of the water; turning your back on the city, legs locking around your waist on the way up.

“We'll be efficient about it,” she continues, planning it all out; the rest of your night, hopefully the rest of your stay. Her mouth finds your ear, teeth to the cartilage, tongue to the lobe. “Tell me whatever you want. We'll keep going while you talk—I've got an unused cunt you haven't ruined yet, and you already know how many times I can cum in a row.”

“Dive right in, huh?”

“How the hell are you tying all these? I can barely get one done, and then I look over, and I see you tossing one after another.” Asa asked as she tried her best to tie the used condom she was holding onto. 

“So what you’re saying is, I’m better with my hands,” Rei replied, stifling a small chuckle. The older woman was referring to a conversation they had been having throughout the day. 

“Whoa, don’t get ahead of yourself. I never said that.” Asa said, still struggling to tie off the condoms. She was growing more frustrated every time she looked over and saw Rei toss another onto the bed. 

Asa had about ten sitting on her lap while Rei only had two left. The pair had been draining people all night long, and during their small break, they had decided to tie each condom they would use as part of their outfit, or lack thereof. After so many rounds, Asa and Rei had long since given up wearing their masseuse uniforms. Now they waited on the edge of the bed, their bodies slick and glistening from the oil they had used. The only part that remained on them was the thigh straps. Asa looked over once more to see Rei hard at work tying each condom around that strap. It was an erotic sight even for Asa. It showed off Rei’s prowess; each one was practically filled to the brim, and Asa had watched each one get filled up. 

It was only a matter of time before Rei finished decorating her thigh strap with her trophies and began helping Asa with hers. “How are you so good at this?”

“Tell me I’m better and I will.” 

Asa huffed; there was absolutely no way she was going to give Rei credit and tell the older woman she was better with her hands. Asa had too much pride in her work. Even if Rei was better, there was no way she would tell her that. 

Rei laughed as she continued working on Asa’s condoms. She loved annoying Asa and making her flustered. “You could just end this all and tell me what I want to hear.”

“Never,” Asa said adamantly. The pair broke into a laugh; they were tired after a long shift. They wanted nothing more than to finish up, shower, and then get some nice sleep in their beds. 

“There we go; now just tie them around the strap.” A familiar ring told the pair that their next customer was approaching.

“Shit,” Asa was trying her best to tie the used condoms around her thigh strap, but much like with tying them off, she was struggling. 

Rei couldn’t help but crack a smile. “I’ll start them off; you just take care of that…unless,”

“Not happening.” Rei giggled as she walked forward, shutting the sliding door in front of Asa. “Really? I’m only going to be like a minute.”

“We’ll see.” Rei brushed down her hair as she took a deep breath. “You just stay back there until you finish up.” 

The room Rei and Asa had chosen for their night of work was split into two sections; the first, where Rei currently stood, looked like a massage parlor. That had been their gimmick, one that at this point had fallen to the wayside as they got tired of dressing and undressing themselves. Rei made sure the massage table was dry and ready for the customer. A thought flashed through her mind, though. She could just plop herself on it and start fingering herself. When you walked in, she’d be caught, and then you could just move on to sex. Rei waved the thought away. She had a job to do, plus with Asa busy in the back, it would give her a chance to use her skills. The older Japanese woman smiled to herself. If she could get you to cum before Asa came out, it would drive the younger woman mad.

Rei had her plan now. She stood in front of the door, rubbing her slick thighs together as she waited for you to appear. “Hurry up, hurry up, hurry up,” she thought to herself. As soon as the door opened and she saw you standing on the other side, she pressed herself against you. “I’ve been waiting for you, mister.” She said, a slight teasing tone in her voice as she pulled you inside. “You really kept me waiting. The table is all set. I just need you to strip out of those clothes, and then we can get started.” You do as she commands, your eyes never leaving her body. You had expected her to be in some sort of uniform, but to see Rei in her birthday suit the moment you came in was something you weren’t going to complain about. You hadn’t even noticed that Asa was missing. You kept looking at Rei’s tits, the soft mounds looking even better considering they were covered in a light layer of oil and sweat. “Now up on the massage table while I get something.” 

You climbed up on the table as she asked, and watched Rei make her way to the nearby counter, your eyes sliding down her pale body until you reached the full round globes of her backside. Your cock twitched at the sight, your heartbeat quickening as Rei turned around, a wide grin on her face as she coated her hands in the massage oil. “You need to do your best to relax. Your whole body is so tense.” Rei giggles as she stands beside you. She places a hand on your arm. “Do you want me to start here?” Her hand moves along to your chest. “Or here?” Rei’s hand continues lower, down your stomach until she reaches the base of your cock. “Or do you want me to start here?” You twitch in her hand, drawing a giggle from the Japanese woman. “Oh, I guess this is where you want it. Well, don’t worry. I’ll take great care of you until my colleague gets here.” 

On the other side of the door, Asa was still struggling with the condoms. “Son of a bitch,” she mumbled to herself, fingers fumbling as she rushed her efforts. She knew exactly what Rei was doing. “No way, I’m going to let her do this,” Asa said. Now that she was in a rush, it seemed like Asa’s hands didn’t want to cooperate with her at all. “Fuck, son of a…” Asa’s struggles seemed to multiply the more she tried to do things quickly. It was giving Rei ample time to work you over. 

You were putty in her hands; Rei wasn’t even trying, but she had you moaning constantly. Her soft, gentle hands moved one over the other as she moved them down along your shaft. It was a constant stream. “That’s it; let all that stress melt away. You know I can’t do this to everyone.” Rei leans in, getting by your ear as she whispers, “I can only do this to guys with really big cocks. It’s turning me on. Do you mind if I give it a quick taste?”

“N-no, please,” you groan. 

Rei smiled and paused, her grip tightening around the base as she inched her lips closer to your slick cock. You watch as she takes a deep whiff, exhaling slowly before wrapping her lips around the tip. Rei’s skilled tongue circles you slowly; her hand begins to move along the remaining part of your shaft. You moan louder than before, the pleasure getting to you. Rei stops before you near your climax, however. She drags her tongue over the center of your cock once more before leaving you. “You go awfully close there,” she says sweetly. “ You saw these, right?” Rei flashes the used condoms tied around her thigh strap, the various colors swinging as she does so. “I want to save them all for a nice big drink at the end of the night. So I’m going to need to put one on you. You don’t mind, do you? A girl needs a nice drink at the end of the night, and I have a special way of putting it on.”

You shake your head quickly. “I-I don’t mind.”  You watch as Rei goes over to the table. She rips open one of the condoms and carefully places it between her lips. She hurries back, trying to hold her smile back as her hands grasp your cock again. The Japanese woman continues where she left off, hand over hand moving across your length. She can feel your cock throbbing, and Rei can’t hide her smile any longer. She leans down and swallows your cock, the condom stretching over it as she moves down your length. She holds the base in place, making sure it doesn’t move an inch. You hit the back of her throat eventually; the pleasure overwhelms you, and you cum. You feel Rei’s hand massaging your balls, her hand gently cupping them, giving them small squeezes as she keeps her lips sealed around your cock. When you finally come down from your high, Rei pulls you out of her mouth. Saliva drips from the corner of her lips.

Asa slides the door open, witnessing the finale of Rei’s act. “There we are.” Her hand moves across your shaft, milking you of the last remaining drops. “I hope you have more to give me; we still have a lot of condoms.” The younger woman’s head dropped for a moment; she was too late. “Ah, who do we have here? Finally ready to join us, Asa?” You turn your head to your other partner for the night. Asa had the same attire, or lack thereof, as Rei. You hungrily look her over; her perky tits glistened from the layers of oil she had used throughout the night. Your eyes move downward, noting her hairless cunt and puffy lips. Rei can feel your cock twitch in her hand. “Oh, looks like someone is excited to have another partner. Do you want to take this one, Asa?” 

The situation amused Rei. By the look in the younger woman’s eyes, she could see Asa needed to let out some of her frustrations. It made her feel giddy; she just loved when a plan came together. Annoying her juniors was something Rei took pride in. She watched as her coworker grabbed your hand and pulled you out of the massage table. “Follow me, now.” Rei did her best to stifle a chuckle; it was always funny to her how Asa handled her frustration. Rei leaned against the massage table, watching as Asa dragged you onto the bed and immediately straddled you. “Aren’t you going to use a condom?” She asked, knowing full well Asa was absolutely going to drain you dry and didn’t care about their little game anymore. 

Asa doesn’t say a word; she merely gets herself ready, rubbing your cock against her went cunt. She hums, enjoying the slight pleasure of it before she sinks onto your cock. Asa cranes her neck back, moaning softly as you fill her. “Oh, fuck,” she mutters under her breath. This was what she needed after being teased by Rei the entire night about who was better at handjobs. Asa places her hands on your chest; they nearly slip off. They were somewhat slick given she had just grabbed your cock. Asa doesn’t waste a second, bouncing on you quickly. You let out low, guttural moans as Asa bounces on your cock. Her tight cunt was squeezing the life out of you.

“C’mon play with my tits,” she mumbles, bringing your hands to her perky chest. You squeeze the soft mounds instinctively, your thumb crossing over her nipples. Asa grips your arms, holding them tightly as she slams herself on your cock. It wasn’t quite the experience you were expecting, but you had no complaints with a woman like Asa fucking herself on you. The only problem you had was the sensitivity. Asa hadn’t let you cool off, and as such you were already on the verge of cumming. “Do it, cum in this pussy.” She growled. The young Japanese woman impaled herself on your length, letting the head sit by her womb as she grinded on you. It felt like you were melting inside her core. It only took a moment before you exploded inside her. “That’s it, fill this little pussy up.” She groaned, continuing to grind on you. Asa could feel your hot cum coating every nook and cranny as it flooded her womb. 

She was far from done, though. As soon as Asa felt your climax come to an end, she lifted herself, leaving just the head inside before dropping back down and beginning to bounce again. The loud claps of her body against yours filled the room. You had completely forgotten Rei was in the room as well; you could only think about the young Japanese woman riding you like you were a toy. 

For her part, Rei was enjoying watching Asa ravage you. She had laid herself on the massage table and began touching herself, fingers dipping into her cunt with the same rhythm of Asa’s bounces. She knew at this point she wouldn’t get a turn with your cock, at least not a satisfying one. 

So, instead she decided to enjoy the show at least. When your second orgasm came, she giggled; your cock was thoroughly painted white now as your previous load leaked out of Asa. While her fingers did feel good, Rei knew she wouldn’t be able to cum like she wanted to. She took a deep breath, smiling at Asa as she straddled your face. “If you’re not going to fuck me, then at least eat me out.” She said softly. Rei firmly planted herself on your face. She knew how long a person could hold their breath on average. She would just give you a chance to breathe then. Your job was to eat her out now.

Rei pressed her soft thighs on either side of your head; they acted as perfect earmuffs. You struggled to do your job, though. Asa was giving you no breaks; you were moaning into Rei's cunt between licks. Your hands slipped down from Asa’s tits, and Rei took them, placing them on her thighs as she grinded her needy cunt against you. 

“Feeling better?” Rei asked, her hand reaching for Asa’s nipple. The older woman trapped the hard nub between her fingers, pulling on it as Asa rode you.

“Mmm, fuck…you,” Asa moaned. She was finally getting close to her climax, and now came along Rei ready to tease her some more. 

“I mean, I’ll let you,” Rei said, sticking her tongue out at her coworker. The older woman placed her other hand on Asa’s toned stomach. “Oh, I can feel him moving inside you. I bet it feels great, doesn’t it?”

“Y-yeah,” Rei twisted the younger woman’s nipple, making her cry out. From under her, you felt Asa’s walls clamping down on your cock. Another load of your cum flooded her cunt because of it. “It feels really good.”

“His cock or being cummed in so many times? You haven’t been able to get any creampies until right now.”

“Both, both feel fucking fantastic.” Asa could feel your cock softening inside her, but she continued to ride you. She reached back, grabbing your balls and giving them slight squeezes, hoping it would be enough to get you hard for one more orgasm. Rei smiled and leaned in, pressing her lips against Asa. The younger woman accepted it. She could feel Rei’s tongue tracing her lips, and she let her in. Rei explored the younger woman’s mouth, forgetting about you for a moment. She rose off your face, letting you catch your breath for a second before setting her ass back down on her seat. Rei could sense you trying your best, the way your tongue smashed against her walls because you were having a hard time controlling yourself due to the pleasure was rough, but she enjoyed it. She was getting close to cumming. 

Asa could feel Rei’s hands wandering around her body, touching and grabbing whatever she could. The younger woman broke the kiss, biting her lip as Rei gripped her ass. “Go on, bounce that pretty ass on that dick,” Rei told her. “I want to see you cum.” Asa wrapped her arms around the older woman, her moans turned into whines as she reached her climax. “Fucking cum on that cock.” Asa cried out as she came on you; her walls had you in a vice grip as they milked you for the last time. Every drop was drained from your body as her walls fluttered around you. You were all certain that if Asa weren’t on the pill, she definitely would’ve gotten pregnant from this. Asa leaned against Rei, her body struggling to support itself. “Such a good girl,” Rei whispered into her ear. 

You all take a moment to catch your breath. Rei was the first to climb off you, turning to see your chin absolutely drenched in her nectar. She leaned down, kissed you, and thanked you for your hard work. “You did great, sir. Did you like our service, too?” You were too weak and tired to say a word. Rei smiled and pinched your cheek. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

The older woman turned to Asa, smiling at her coworker as she helped her off you. Your cum came pouring out of her cunt, what wasn’t escaping from her had already coated your lower half. “It looks like you really drained him. Proud of yourself?”

“S-shut it,” Asa stuttered. Rei let Asa rest on the bed before helping you to the shower. She let you relax in the tub, coming back to her tired coworker. 

“Such a greedy girl, draining our customer of all his cum. You didn’t even let me ride him.” Rei whines; the pout she has on her face quickly shifts to a smile as she stares at Asa, the younger woman’s spread out from fatigue. “Well, at the very least I can have a taste.” Rei straddled the younger woman’s face, holding Asa’s legs apart as she dove in, her tongue diving deep into Asa’s folds. Asa’s legs tensed in her hands as she pushed her tongue deeper into Asa’s cunt, tasting the salty semen she hadn’t gotten the chance to taste. Asa could do very little but lay there and take the tongue lashing. Having Rei’s slick cunt in front of her did have its perks, though. Asa stuck her tongue out and took small licks at it, tasting the older woman's nectar. The pair remained attached until they brought each other to their climax. By then you had finished your bath and left; they hadn’t even noticed your leaving, far too engaged in their current activities. 

When they did finally notice you were gone, the pair laughed. “I think that’s the last one for the day, and I have one more used condom than you do,” Rei said with a smile. Asa’s eyes went wide as she stared at the used condom in Rei’s hand.

“Fuck!”

Rei laughs. “I guess that means you pay for dinner tonight.”

“Noo! That’s not fair, you-you baited me into–”

“I asked you before you started riding him if you wanted to use a condom.” Rei counters, holding her smile, knowing that there was absolutely nothing Asa could do to argue. She had given the younger woman a chance to proceed, and she hadn’t taken it. “Now, there’s a pizza place I really want to go to. I hope you have enough saved up, because it’s really fancy.”

You know this move; known this for more than two years. She has a plethora of ways to make you feel dumb—well, you are; it’s why you’re perplexed how you landed a goddess like Kim Minjeong. There is no argument you’ll win when she starts pulling off the next couple of moves.

“Have you been well?” she quietly asks again; she already knows what she wants to hear, and you’re just catching up now.

“Of… course… not…”

Her lips twist into a crooked smirk; one corner hooks upwards until her tiny nose crinkles. Her head slowly tilts while she looks at you like you are the most pitiful little puppy she has seen this year.

“That’s what I thought, baby.”

“Minjeo—”

“Three months.” Her fingers ponderously slide from your hair down to your jaw. “Three months, and you thought about me every night, didn’t you?”

“Yes.”

Her hand grips your face tighter. “Say it properly.”

“Every single night, babe.”

“Hm.” She pats your head like the good boy that you are, then kisses the corner of your lips, teasing you just enough to crave and salivate for more. “And what did you do about it, hm? Did you cry?”

“Minjeong…”

“Oh, tell me. You cried a little, didn’t you?”

“I did not cry.”

“Not even one manly tear? Like, into your pillow?”

“Just tell me what you want to hear, babe.”

“I want to hear you say what you did with your right hand every night.”

Her hand slides down your chest, past your stomach, to the front of your pants—where you are incredibly hard against the denim. Her palm adjusts to the shape of your hardening crotch.

“Fucked my own hand thinking about you, babe.”

“Every night?”

“Every night.”

“Mmhm. My poor baby~”

She lifts on her knees. Her tight black silk nightgown slides up her thighs. She reaches for the hem, pulls it over her head in one motion, and her perfect figure reveals itself to you with only her lacy panties protecting the treasure you have long been yearning for.

You have not seen her body in three months, and it is somehow more mesmerizing than you remembered. This is not a fair distribution of biological gifts

Truly, the gods have crafted a perfect being.

“Minjeong—”

“Shhh~”

She lowers herself back onto your lap, feeling the heat of her cunt crowd against the growing erection south of you. She grinds against you slow. Her pink nipples brush your chest through your shirt while her hands gently cradle your face.

“Baby, take this off.”

You pull your shirt over your head. She sighs when your chest touches hers.

“Ugh, I missed this,” she murmurs—then catches herself.

You let out a smirk; ahah, you know this bit. She has been doing it for two years—the nonchalant-I’m-meant-to-be-cool reset. She will do this a few more times before she gives up and lets her true emotions take over.

Almost on cue—“Oh my god, baby.”—there we go.

She reaches down, unbuttons your pants, hurriedly pulls them off along with the rest of your bottom wear, wraps her hand around you; so—fucking—warm, so perfect around your length. Her thumb drags across the tip, and her hand was the only one meant to hold your throbbing cock; so perfectly shaped around it.

“Babe—”

“You want it, baby?”

“Of-fucking-course, babe.”

“How badly?”

“Very.”

“Then say please.”

“God. Please, babe.”

“Please what?”

“Please let me fuck you.”

She scoffs. “Baby, I have been imagining this for three months, you know? I get to be the one doing the fucking, and you just get to be the one apologizing.”

“Apologizing for what, now?”

“For not flying out to Seoul last month.”

“Minjeong, I had work—”

“Apologize anyway.”

“I’m sorry, babe.”

“Mhm. Good enough.”

She pulls her panties aside—does not take them off—and lines her needy slit up; then, sinks slowly. You see your cock slowly disappearing into her cunt, and you feel the slick, velvety, tight walls of her accept you fully. She takes all of you in one long slide, and her breath catches for half a second before she recovers.

“There. That’s better.”

She starts to move, and you feel all of her insides working your cock. Her hand cradles your face, and her eyes are fixed on yours the whole time.

“You missed this?” She susurrates. “You miss making me yours?”

“Yes.”

“Say what you missed the most.”

“I can’t choose.”

“Say them all anyway.”

“Your fucking hot body—” You feel her walls tighten. “—your mouth—” She moans louder on every thrust. “—every fucking part of you that I own.”

Her rhythm falters, briefly for one stroke; then catches it.

“Mhmm. Good.”

She rides you in a tempo that keeps you crazy: Slow at first, then faster. With each beat, her tits bounce, and all you can do is admire the piece of work molded to fit you. Her hair falls into her eyes, her hands produce scratches all over your body, and her cheeks are flushed with arousal.

“Look at me, baby.”

“My eyes are all yours.”

“You’re mine, okay?”

“Of course.”

“Give it some more conviction!”

“My life is all yours, Minjeong, and you are mine.”

“Good boy.”

She rides harder; thighs flexing on either side of your hips. You do your best not to ruin her pace—making sure she feels in control—but your hand goes to her waist without permission.

She grabs both your wrists, pulls them off, then pins them to the bed above your head.

“Nooooo, baby. Did I say you could hold me?”

“No.”

“That’s right.”

She keeps riding you hard, your wrists still pinned. Her mouth is close to yours but not kissing, just trying to catch her breath at every thrust.

“Baby—” Then—small, sudden—her composure cracks. She kisses you: Deep, hungry, and desperate. Her mouth is chasing back the past three months where her lips were looking for yours.

Her hips move faster—she stops pretending; her hands leave your wrists. She wraps her arms around your neck and holds on.

“Uhhh, baby—”

“Yes, babe?”

“I missed you. I miss your stupid laugh.”

“Eh?”

She lets out a giggle in between her sweet moans.

“I miss your dumb jokes.”

“Like the one about the bee?”

“Oh, shut up. You’re ruining the moment.”

“Babe—”

“I missed pretending I hate you. Missed how you take care of me. Missed how you make me feel safe. Missed—”

You cut her off; you kiss her because if she keeps going, you know one of you (mostly you) will start tearing up.

Her lips aggressively kiss you back. Her rhythm hits its stride while her forehead leans against yours.

“Baby, I’m—”

“Me too, babe. Let’s cum together.”

Both of you moan in an imperfect unison; she cums on your cock, and you release every little bit of your seed inside of her—your juices creating a concoction inside of her enough to create new life, probably. She screams onto your neck, and her cunt locks you down and squeezes you further—deep inside of her, filling her the way she has been aching for since Seoul.

“I love you, baby.”

“I love you too, babe.”

She lifts her head, looks at you, and her mouth twists into a crooked smirk again; that same bratty look that never fails to get you in a chokehold.

“Do not tell anyone I said that first.”

“I would never.”

“Good boy.” She kisses you, slower this time. Then, against your mouth: “Now, ruin my life and put a baby inside of me.”

“What?”

“You heard me.”

Her susurrations only mean one thing: she’s serious about this.

“You… sure, babe?”

“Do I not sound sure?”