Girl group smut stories (F Idol/M reader)

It is what it is.

You are but a man, a living being: flesh, blood, pulse; an internet connection and access to hyper-zoomed photos and slow-motion fancams and excessive manifestos on Chou Tzuyu's legs and Chou Tzuyu’s waist and Chou Tzuyu’s perfect dimples and smile and the golden-ratio proportions; the S-curve, the hourglass of her; none of which get as straight to the point as these carefully curated comments:

notice me mommy

pleeease sit on my faaace

let me dieeeee between those thighs good looooooorrrrdddd

(Or, for the cinephiles: the quote-tweet of a poorly composited clip; one side—Tzuyu shaking ass, the other—a GIF from Mad Max: Fury Road of the guy jumping off a speeding truck yelling WITNESS MEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!

But you know what?

Fuck yeah: witness you, indeed.)

Witness you now, camped out in her dressing room—your home for the past fifteen minutes—listening to the roar of tens of thousands of people bleed through concrete and steel while you wait with your VIP pass and your fast-fracturing patience and your cock heavy and in a far worse state than it was backstage at the Victoria’s Secret show; that had Tzuyu in a number that pushed her tits up so delightfully it crashed their whole website; shopping carts flooded by wishes for cleavage that could look half as glorious as hers.

And then she's there, or here, and you're drafting a manifesto of your own.

“Baby—” is how Tzuyu starts, and all it gets her is a hand around her waist, fingerprints pressed into sweat-slicked muscle, and she just goes with it—lets herself be reeled through the threshold and spun into you until the arrangement goes: 1) the door, 2) her body, 3) your cock, 4) you.

“Hell of a show,” you coo into her ear, pulling out the shiver she's kept coiled tight just for this moment—a pressure valve, a controlled detonation, released the second your thumb presses into the meat of her thigh.

“Baby—” again, and your girl is burning up: stage-lights hot, dimpled cheeks gone rosy red, flushed throat to sternum, wrapped up in what is just a feat of costume design and structural engineering and frankly the pinnacle of human craftsmanship: the leather corset cinched around her chest, doing theological work with her tits; the matching hot-pants sealed over her thighs (likely had to be poured on earlier, left to set, that's the only possibility); the knee-high boots she is absolutely not going to be able to walk out of here in.

She leans anyway—gracing you with more room to work in, rolling herself against you, because there's a countdown until you both have to clear the stadium and it's only hard and fast from here on out.

(Don't concern yourself with whatever wreckage survives into the aftermath, you're not going to see this room ever again, anyway.

Well. Until next tour.)

“Need a minute?” You're busy taking stock: the rapid shallow breaths, the copper-spun hair matted to skin, the sweat tracing her collarbone and running rivers to places you'll find the end of soon.

Tzuyu tilts her chin up, cocks an eyebrow. That stadium-filling smile. So ruthlessly, indiscriminately gorgeous. Real breath-taker, soul-stealer, habitual cock-hardener; your girlfriend (you lucky, lucky fucker). Another grind of her hips against you finds you stretching. “Could you even wait a minute?”

“No, but I thought I'd be polite and ask.” You shrug, bump your hips back, far less graceful and subtle than the little ditty she pulled off; through your denim, dragging across her abs, a point of punctuation on her body. “Consent and all.”

“Oh?” She laughs; small, private, non-transferable to anyone outside this room. Rises on her toes so the tip of your cock drags down to where she actually wants it, takes your face in both hands. “Is this something I'll need to consent to?”

“Just your standard offer for concert aftercare,” you deadpan. “Very exclusive. One provider.”

“That's funny. I don't remember subscribing.”

“Opt-out situation,” you tell her, lips finding the exact junction where salt and sweet meet on her neck. She sighs, end-to-end. “Really have to read the fine print.”

“You know how I am with that sort of stuff.” And it's really something; your Tzuyu underneath everyone else's Tzuyu—stage-beautiful but zero performance left in those to-die-for cheekbones; just her, released and free, origami in your hands, folding like she was always going to—a swan, some sort of songbird, or maybe simply a fucking lawn chair, if permitted. “You get your hands on me and I just can't help but say yes.”

Tzuyu: dressed like this and saying shit like that.

Yes, you both are embarrassingly, irretrievably, categorically gone over each other; and it's your problem, and hers, you've both long made peace with it, ready to be buried in clearly marked graves, side-by-side: here lies Chou Tzuyu and her secret boyfriend who fucked each other well and truly to death.

So, of course you're going to kiss her.

Lips on hers—same every time, new every time—her sighs feeding into your lungs, hands fisting in your shirt, hips translating heat into friction. Her tongue finding yours in ceremonial greeting; sparking up the sign outside, reading: occupied, all yours, always been yours, you just had to show up and smile.

And it's the release from her, all of it: everything that's been pulled taut since soundcheck, since this morning; each glance she's had to swallow, instinct suppressed by choreography and professionalism and forty thousand watching eyes.

The kiss compounds, stacks on stacks. Her leg lifts, hooks behind your shin, grinds the core of her against you—more, wanting more.

You stop yourself. Pull your lips free. The whimper that follows is pitchy and involuntary and criminally cute.

Her bottom lip wobbles, doing its intended and well-documented work on your heart.

“Why?” she asks—genuine, adorable, the whole bullshit shebang—how could you ever deprive an angel like this of such an innocent/filthy carnal desire?

You peel her hands from your neck, leaving them at her sides. Like a good girl, she waits.

Then you slide down to your knees.

The sound she makes could shatter something; it settles for the room's acoustics, forces it into submission, bends it over a knee.

“Ah,” she exhales. “That's why.”

Hotter down here. Always is: down-lights been baking her all night and it radiates off every inch, and at this distance—breathing her in, flooding your airways with the tangy-sugary-rock-salt-fucking-umami-scented compound of Tzuyu after three hours on a lit stage, the heat pooling thickest right at the deep crease where her legs meet. Coherent thought exits the building, it was never given a backstage pass, and the inside of her knee gets an open-mouth kiss—she nearly keels over completely, hands scrabbling for your hair.

“Oh God—” and you can hear the laugh underneath it, the perpetual disbelief at how fast she comes apart. “You have no idea how long I've been thinking about this.”

“I have some idea.”

“Your fault,” she says, and her voice fractures on it—”oh—standing at the barricade, staring at me the whole time; you have a problem you know—always looking at my—”

“Precisely.”

(And permit the detour: just to pontificate about Tzuyu's thighs because they warrant it.

Her thighs are strong. Belonging to both the Goddess and the statue depicting her—inspired by myths, carved out of marble—everyone gets to see the output; nobody gets to feel the mechanism but you. Thousands of hours of training and dancing condensed into lean muscle that locks on either side of your skull and could, if you don't hurry up and get on with it, end you.

But you're with the manifestos on this one—it'd be a perfect way to go. Heat coming off them in waves, obscene against your lips, all that tension gone soft and pliant the second your mouth's on her, flexing when she likes something, gripping when she likes it more—under your palms, against your jaw, clamping over your ears; two years deep and not one degree cooler about it.

Glory, glory, hallelujah.)

Your tongue drags higher. Slow. Taking stock along that honey-gold strip of skin. She tenses under your mouth—quads jumping—and her fingers in your scalp go from grip to claw.

She breathes, “You're unbelievable.”

“I've been told.”

“There's other places for your lips besides my legs you know—ah—”

The rest dissolves: you're busy running your tongue along the seam where leather draws a strict border against the plush of her thigh, finding the points where she's holding the most tension, that make her hips buck up, where the fabric is already warm and damp and about to get so much worse.

It earns you a warning: “You need to get these pants off me.”

“Give me a second.”

“You've had all night—”

“Shh.”

“Shh?”

“Let me appreciate you.”

“That’s what the concert was for, honey—”

“No, that was for everyone else,” you correct her, breathe it straight into the leather. “This—” You make a show of it, the séance you’re performing on your knees, spellbound by the tightest leather on the sweetest body. “These—are for me.”

She manages, barely, “Always.”

You nod, reverently. “So. Shorts. Stay on. For now.”

Tzuyu goes quiet. Breath hitches. Oh, she knows what it means, what you want. It moves through her, settles deep, has her relaxing against the door, parting her legs. “Fine.”

Hands hold her cheeks, digging in, the type of shit you revel in; putting your girl through this. Getting closer, deeper in that crevice, slowly, slowly, slow—until her thighs slap against your cheeks, a clapperboard calling action.

And then you put your mouth on leather. On her.

Sighs—turning into unhinged, sloppy sounds—eke through the gap between her thighs and your ears, knees drawing you in, lethal force, and this is one for the history books, something Darwinian, maybe that grave only has room for one; here lies you, suffocated with the biggest pussy-eating grin on your face, found choking on leather and your girlfriend's cum.

Zero complaints there, anyway.

“Oh fuck—”

“Quiet,” you say into her folds, even though experience tells you this word has had little success with Tzuyu; but, honestly, whatever fuels the kink.

“Trying—” she gasps, hips rolling against your face, proving your point. “But you've got a mouthful of my cunt and you're telling me to keep it down?”

“Mostly leather,” you hedge, but Tzuyu really is grinding hard—hard enough that the heat cuts sharp and precise. Press harder, force out more of these keens, ‘til she has to muffle herself with the back of her own hand.

Kneeling at her altar, getting where she's hottest—tongue dragging up and down the inside, lathering under the seams, working into the gap and getting torturously close; wetness already leaking through, running down; scoop it all up, suck it down, drink your holy communion and cherish every drop.

Exactly what she deserves (Tzuyu, the outfit, these thighs). So, so sensitive, it's so rude—a flicker of your tongue, a press of your lips, pure filth rumbled against her skin and she's gasping, writhing, the idol outline breaking, reconstructing into a shape a bit more pliable, dissolving into a soaked, sweat-drenched mess.

“It's always so easy for you isn't it? Hate how good it is—” and it comes out as a whimper, pleasant, tipsy slurring as Tzuyu's voice pitches higher, higher than please, for God's sake, keep it down this time; the very polite request Nayeon made that you fully intend to break.

Has you questioning the thickness of the door, reminiscing about Osaka, the last stop, when Tzuyu got so obscenely loud that Jeongyeon herself burst in to see if her group's dearly beloved youngest was being murdered—only to be yelled at: get the fuck out, he's killing me with his cock.

These thoughts get pocketed, to be added to later.

Nose pressing hard into the peak of her pussy—taking a long, selfish inhale; fingers holding firm against the muscle, lifting her ass off the door so she can sink further down your face.

“Please,” and she's getting desperate, fingers knotting in your hair, trying to hoist you in. “Take them off—I need your mouth on me, I need to feel you—”

“Not yet,” you tell her again, but she blathers on and on—how Tzuyu always gets—at her best and her worst; a bundle of needs arranged in a neat hierarchy, scratch that: it's just a fucked up ouroboros with your tongue at the beginning and the end and her thick thighs and her full-lipped cunt being looped through in the middle of it all.

With your mouth on her, it always is. Sucking bruises into her long legs, taking the skin between your teeth, marking the softest parts on her body, your declarations, her medals she gets to wear later—this is mine, this belongs to me; next concert she'll be forced into shorts cut far too high to hide them. The idea of it, the zoom on the lenses, the high-definition rendering; they'll see it and they'll figure it out: this goddess belongs to someone.

Her mantra confirms it: “Fuck-fuck-fuck-fuck-pleaaaase—”

You don't slow—not yet—not until she's writhing against the wall and her thighs are clenching and unclenching around your head in a rhythm to match the high and whorish sounds slipping from her mouth. You can hear her start to weep, but her cunt is sprouting tears far quicker; against your chin, down your neck, soaking into the collar of your shirt—you haven't even touched her properly yet.

You'll correct that.

You leave her with one final, deliberate, hard suck of your lips against your favourite bruise. Leave the skin red and glowing with your spit. One gratuitous slap against the curves spilling from the back of her shorts, just to see the ripple.

Then you stand.

Tzuyu blinks slow, can't quite land it. She'd glare if she could aim it—slumped against the doorway, fixing on your lips—shiny, wrecked from your project on her thighs—to drag herself level.

Two fingers under her chin, tilting her face until she's looking at you, meeting your eyes—all that dazed awe pointed straight at you. A nod at the vanity in the corner. “Get over there. Turn around. Bend over. Hands on the counter.”

Tzuyu doesn't say a word. Barely breathes.

Bites her lip, nods, and stumbles her way over.

You track her—flushed, a little disappointed that you left enough integrity in her knees to make the trip. The wobble in her limbs, the stripe of sweat running down her spine, the small of her back, disappearing beneath the leather.

Your girl, your performer, your one and only idol; the most out of this world, hand to God, strike you down where you stand, beautiful woman you've ever been in the vicinity of. The outfit on its way to ruin: tight leather still doing its heroic work against her sweaty tits, hot-pants finding darker shades; midnight stained vantablack from your mouth, from her leaking through; hair coming loose—hours to build, minutes to take apart.

She braces herself on the counter, falling forward until her hands land with a soft thump. The mirror stretches across the wall in front of her, fogged slightly at the edges from the heat churning through the room, and she spots you staring through the glass. Gives you a show, whether she means to or not.

You watch her watch you in the reflection—the instinctual arch of her back as you step closer, habit pushing her ass out to receive you. Hands find her hips, thumbs into the sublime belt of skin above the waistband.

A push here and she preens.

Lips back where they belong; dragging up her spine, her throat, up the columns of temples built by worship alone, feeling the foundations, the muscles tense and flex underneath.

Closer and closer, slurping the sticky-sweetness pooling at the crevasse of her neck and shoulder, setting up camp under her ear, before pitching lower to drag over her jaw, her lips slacking open by themselves and you're going to wedge inside—

“Hurry.”

You breathe into her mouth, “What do you need?”

“You,” she sighs, an exhale, a relief. A kiss atop her chin, the tightening of your grip. She knows it's not enough. “Your mouth. Your hands. Wherever. Everywhere.”

“Everywhere? I've only got the two.” Hands drift higher, up her sides, around her back, slowly, torturously slow, working the lacing loose. Not for need of effort—you've long since learned your way around bobby-pins and double-sided tape and enough knots to make you a certified sailor.

“Anywhere—my—”

The final string comes undone. A shrug has the straps off her shoulders and the corset falling, pasties dropping with it. Leaving her bare from the waist up, and you get indulgent with it, take your time. Look up, into the mirror, take it in. Only for a second.

Accounting for all the best decisions in your life, and every past life too; rewards for time spent in previous reincarnations possibly as some celibate monk achieving enlightenment; only to find in the next leap that true nirvana is actually between Tzuyu's legs.

This current incarnation has you discovering exactly how far down the flush goes, splitting the difference between her breasts; the same ones that fill your hands, splay through your fingers—and they rise and fall, shrill inhales making them heave, nipples pebbling at just a brush of your fingertips.

And Tzuyu, finding her words, the simple, single-syllable vocabulary she has for you: “There—more—yes.”

Toying with them, flicking the peaks, waiting for the right stiffness to pinch. Sharp enough to make her hiss, then ask: “Enough for you?”

“God no,”—loud, decisive, helpless. A demand underneath a laugh. “Your cock. My pussy is literally in tears right now.”

You laugh into her shoulder.

“Weeping. It's so tragic.”

“But does it deserve it?”

“I don't—” and she checks your reflection, honestly considering it. “I don't know. But I do know what I'll do to you if we don't shut it up with your cock in the next minute, and it'll be significantly worse than what you're planning.”

That's more than enough of an answer. You step back, admire the damage. “We'll see about that.”

And the gasp when you free yourself—the button, the zipper, the jeans—because she's been so lost in herself that she's only just realising how much of an entire situation it's been for you since the very start.

You catch it all: the drag of her tongue over her lips, the bite that follows. The shudder, the pupils flooding dark when she sees you.

You say, “You did this.”

“Are you ever not so—” She fumbles, forgetting her words when she watches you step closer, resting the length of you atop her ass with a definitive slap. “So full.”

You lift her, adjust her so she's as tall as she can be—the heels help but don't have her quite high enough for your nefarious ideas; you hold her whole weight in your hands.

She reads your mind, tilts her head back against your shoulder and says, “Go on. Take me.”

Reaching around, popping the button of her shorts, the shudder as you drag them down, her drenched panties with them—over the swell of her hips, down her thighs, force them over the boots until she can kick them off and land them somewhere behind you.

And then it's just her, Tzuyu in knee-high boots and nothing else, long limbs bare and red and littered with your branding; red highlighted against cream, glistening from the slick and the spit.

You step forward, position, aim, level yourself with her. Thumbs press into her ass, parting the valley of her cheeks, edging her knees slightly apart. Fingers firm around her waist, holding her in place, the squeeze of her thighs.

You slide right between them.

“Oh my God—” Her head lifts, eyes clenched shut, fingers scrambling at the counter, knocking over all the pieces that helped put her together hours before, sending them tumbling to the floor. “Always so thick between my thighs.”

You groan, grunt, can't help it—the first slide is unholy. You see it all, watch it through the mirror; the head of your cock emerging from between her locked legs, coming out the other side slick and dark, and it's heat and softness and smooth all around, her cunt lathering you as you push through.

Slowly, carefully, the friction easing with every pass; the schlick sound of it filling the entire room.

“It's going to ruin me,” Tzuyu realises, feeling the way you throb between her, engorged and fighting against the grip of her muscles. “When this gets inside me it's going to fuck me up, isn't it?”

You pass by the rhetorical, focused on setting a rhythm. Something slow, paced, plenty of room to drag achingly along her cunt, let your cockhead push against her clit and force a bit of pressure with each thrust. And Tzuyu responds in kind, finds the motion at once—rolling her hips when you press forward, polishing your thickness with her juices, your cock properly lacquered and stained in budding girlcum.

“Your thighs,” you breathe into her ear, pulling her back against you, catching in the glass two people with unflinching grins on their faces, utterly fucked out of their minds. “Always showing them off, stadium after stadium, leaving them on everyone's mind. You know how many people are probably choking themselves over you right now, yeah?”

“I only care about one,” Tzuyu murmurs back, eyes blinking closed and open again, as if to double-check, maybe it's a dream, maybe the wrecked visage reflected in front of her is too blissful to be true—some bizzaro-doppelganger that just happens to look like her except in her sluttiest, most honest form; tall and proud and tits on display, nipples like pendulums with every thrust, swinging up and down.

“And look at them now. So perfect around my cock,” you grit out, her thighs twitching around you as if they have a mind of their own, pressing you in from either side, God. “It's genuinely insane.”

And the sigh, the quiver, the shudder when you tell her:

“You're made for this, Tzuyu.”

“I know,” she says, words turning into mud; formless, less coherent the more you push. “I know—it's so right. Feels so—fuck—you feel so good. This is all I've been thinking about since—”

“All show.”

“Before then,” and she smiles, laughs, because she has a secret she's been holding. “I knew it. Knew when they showed me this outfit. This ridiculous corset. Those tiny, tight shorts. I told the stylist straight away—this outfit is perfect.”

The smile, pure innocence concentrated into a lie that you almost believe. She rolls her ass back against you, dips her hips into that dangerous vector; the one where her thighs clench and angle your cock higher, where the head of your cock brushes against where she's most swollen, most shamelessly soaked; drinks down the look in your eyes when she does it again and again and again.

“Perfect to be ruined. Perfect to get fucked in. Perfect to make my thighs look so good for you.” The noise you thrust out of her next—a grunt, a throat cleared—enough to get the next words out clean: “Now tell me it was enough to get you to fuck me properly.”

You answer with speed—with force—pushing your cock right through, forcing her clit to flicker roughly, a guttural 'Christ'—from someone's lips—hers, yours, you can't parse it—as your hips piston right into her ass.

“Faster—I'm—” she starts, but you know; because you're melding at this point, sharing one mind, one slick, urgent rhythm that makes the vanity, the mirror, the bottles, the whole stadium seem to rattle.

Knuckles turn white, she's meeting you thrust for thrust now, pushing back against you; each and every time—cock slides through the squelch-smack-sploosh of it, head bumping against her clit, an obscene little kiss with each pass, a call met with a response in the form of a jerk or a whine or just the squeeze of her around you to let you know that yeah, she gets the message.

“Holy—close,” she gasps, grabbing the word and holding onto it like a lifeline—through the thrusting, the trembling thighs and ragged breaths and the way she's so wet your cock is just dripping with it. “So close, so close, don't stop—please—”

Not in a million fucking years.

You reach around, fill a palm with her tits, squeeze, pinch, bring her closer and twist just right to have her body in fits; a seizure that makes her knees buckle together and your vision blur for an instant—but it's enough.

She lifts up—higher, goes to the tops of her toes, as tall as her heels would allow, coming off your cock, letting the tip drag down to land at the centre of her, across her folds—settling against the only place it really belongs.

“Oh-wait-God-fuck-I'm-not—”

You pull her down, push right through that blistering-hot cumhole and thrust hard all the way in, full-length, every thick inch fed to her greedy cunt, and Tzuyu screams.

“God-yes-fuck-you—” and the expletives that follow, something filthy and loud that can't be stopped by any number of walls—and the one thought in your mind that isn't some variation of holy-shit-Tzuyu's-ridiculously-wet-cunt-is-choking-my-cock knows Nayeon's going to have some words about this later.

But her pussy pulses, fights your cock thrashing against its walls; Tzuyu snapping shut around you so hard you can barely move, and she cums and cums and cums; her head thrown back, hair draping over your shoulder; wailing, moaning, cursing your name and your cock and your ancestors and the fact that this is only the first time you've made her cum today and you owe her so, so much more.

Squeezing and wrenching and desperately trying to milk you with every devastating method it has in its arsenal—but you don't fall with it, you don't finish it.

Yeah, God, of course you want to, you're right there, legs dangling off the cliff—but you're not done with her yet, not even close.

So you just hold her against you, let her shake, let her cunt flutter so heavenly around your shaft, her abs flex and quiver under one palm, her heart leaping out of her chest and through the lovely tit you've got a firm grip on. Let her drool onto your shoulder, tongue, mouth gone slack and eyes glassy, looking up at you because it is—reliably, catastrophically—and it bears repeating—every goddamn time.

You twist her, cock slipping out a few solid inches and she makes a sound of loss that would fit in a funeral dirge; but yeah, you just want to kiss her, something rough and claiming, to help her swallow the broken sobs she's still making.

And she kisses you back, desperate, like she wants to hurt you with her tongue and her lips, teeth catching your lower lip; hands, fingers, fingernails clawing at your skin and your hair and there really is only one thing left to say:

“Inside me,” she spits into your mouth; words of a woman who is owed a grand railing and is ready to call in the whole account, backdated to the day you met, “I need your cum inside me. Now.”

She reads the stupid smirk on your face. Bites your lip again.

Again: “Now.”

You step back, length completely sliding out of her; cunt-drool keeping you tethered to her pussy lips.

Tzuyu groans, nearly collapses against the mirror.

“Then earn it, Tzuyu.”

There's little room left for grace, you manage what you can; an awkward-four-legged crab walk because Tzuyu's still shaking and needs you to support her weight as you collapse onto the couch.

A thud and you're seated, Tzuyu falling into your lap; your flawless girl, tits level with your lips, thighs bracketing either side of yours, cunt juice streaming down the plane, and her hands on your shoulders, bracing for what's next.

“Needed this,” Tzuyu sighs; cradling your head closer to her chest, welcoming the tongue that snakes out, rolls around a nipple, the teeth grazing the sensitive slope of her tits.

You jerk your hips, drag your cock through her folds—not inside, not yet—and she grits out your name. “I know.”

“No—you don't,” she tells you, smile on her face, wistful and pretty and she's just melting into your hands on her hips. “You know how hard it was to not go looking for you? All day I thought about—fuck—thought about finding you. Getting on my knees,” she closes her eyes, bringing herself back to some half-remembered dream. “Wanted to take your cock deep and drink you dry and fill my belly full of your cum—but I had to stop. Do you want to know why?”

You don't need to respond; you know the real answer, can feel it thrumming through her.

Tzuyu nods, slow, languid. Leaning in, dipping her head, breath hot against your jaw like she's letting you in on a private confession, something she'd only admit through the longest, sweetest torture. “I wanted you desperate. Hard all day. Needed you thinking about nothing else but me and my mouth and my cunt and my thighs.”

Your cock's fighting your own willpower, levelling with her entrance, you can feel the pulse of her meeting your throb; beads of precum slitting out of your cockhead ready to make the leap into her cunt. It's a game of millimetres at this point—a slip of your hands, a twitch of her hips, a slight fucking breeze; all it would take to break her.

“So I think I deserve a reward—for being so good for you, don't I? Or maybe you're mad at me for not taking your cock sooner—you can tell me I've been bad, that I need to pay you back, that I owe you—” Tzuyu's lips skate across your chin, doing their wicked work, inhaling every wisp of desperation and pure insatiable need that's been simmering underneath your skin all day. “Please, go ahead and put me in my place.”

“Fine.”

A forced exhale—wind knocked out from her lungs and into yours; cunt parting around you hot and slick and Jesus Christ she's so fucking tight, but you drive through it, wrenching her down while forcing yourself up and by the time you're fully hilted there's just one high, continuous sound she's making—a choir of wails, sobs, cries; a blissful chorus.

Her hips tilt to draw you deeper, thighs locking around your waist and there's the whole of your interior life, mind returning to one reliable verdict—you can't help it—death, taxes, and the combination of both when you collect what you’ve been dying for from Tzuyu's tiny, pink pussy and fill her so completely she can launch a one-woman investigation into the existence of the afterlife herself.

And you know her, know your girl, she wants to be more eloquent about it, wants to find a better way to convey how good you're railing her right now—so easily, firm quick strokes gliding in and out of her blistering cunt; guided by your hands holding her waist steady, but all she can manage is the high-level shit, the words that don't really matter but the effort to make them is Herculean nevertheless: “There—God—there—fuck—please—fuck—fuck—fuck—”

You hold her, fuck into her, just watching her—this ideal idol, letting your thighs slap against hers, punishing the muscle; absorbing all the details, the classified information that never leaves your desk.

Her face when you bottom out; the squeeze of her eyes, the slacking of her jaw, this euphoric grin dancing across her lips. Her tits and their heft, the bounce with every stroke—putting a hand back on one, filling your palm whole; the thought there—did you mold them, or were they tailor-made for you—or really, who gives a fuck because a squeeze makes her squeal so delightfully and you know that if you roll it she'll clench, cunt will pulse once, twice, around you and her head will drop back and she'll tell you again—

“More—there—”

“Yeah?”

And mumbling, fumbling around the back of her pretty head, sorting through all the things that may have existed there before you started filling it with thoughts of your cock, diving deep for the words and somehow managing to string them together—”Both—please—your hands, mouth, whatever—touch me more—”

You return your teeth to the other and her volume pitches; whips its way around the room, like it's searching for the cracks, the little gaps under the doorway so it can sneak into the corridor, down the hall—reaching for someone, anyone who can acknowledge how thoroughly you satisfy Chou Tzuyu's cunt.

“Your cock is so damn good,” she breathes; and that's all there really is, plain and simple, the why of it all.

What you've always known—sure you're helplessly, embarrassingly, probably-going-to-ask-her-to-marry-you-eventually down bad for her, even though you both know that you really are.

It's this—pounding Tzuyu's insides and being thanked for it. Her grip, her heat; not just her tits, her whole body, glorious thighs and all; engineered with this application in mind; an absurdly deranged thought to conjure—a decade of discipline, of investment, liquidated against your cock; an endpoint to just bounce mercilessly.

You remind her of it too: “Forty thousand people,” you mark the record into the underside of her tits.

“Please—”

“Every single one of them.”

“I know—please—I know—don't stop—”

“Going home right now,” you drive into her, shattering her on the downstroke, coming back together when you pull her up, just to break her into pieces again when you impale her completely. “Dreaming about these thighs—this body—this tight cunt stretching around me so nice.”

She's just properly gushing now, unashamedly messy with it; from her cunt, down your cock, past the crevasses of her thighs slapping on top of yours and ruining the couch below, but so what, sell it online or something; a Tzuyu-fied cum-stained couch; the sweaty outlines of your fucked, formless bodies on the cushions, would make a great centrepiece in any international gallery.

But anyway, back to the obvious: “It's all fucking mine,” and before you even have to tack on the end of it the question, Tzuyu's already picking up what you're putting down—

“All of it,” she says, just holding herself by your shoulders now, digging herself in, fastening herself down for the storm, “Yours”—once, pounded out of her—“Yours”—again, but broken, shattered; losing its footing in her lexicon. “Only you—only for you.”

And the other thing, what's left when it all slips: the composed, picture-perfect idol facade vacated, checked out, no lens in the world able to catch what's underneath. Just her and her wanton needs—fucked raw, fucked hard, wrung dry and left boneless. If she can walk or make words, or remember her name after this you've fucked up, because this was always her scheme: she chose the outfit, laced herself up in straight-up mainlined sin knowing you'd tear it off, spent all those hours on that stage with this exact destination in mind; so, yeah, hurry the fuck up—pick up the pace.

The couch jostles, fights the wall behind it, the carpet underneath. Something crashes to the floor, rolls off a table, never even mattered. Tzuyu stops holding back, the words come out clean, no longer minced; it was only ever a matter of time, because she's finally getting what she needs and yeah, the whole room, all of backstage, her groupmates down the corridor; no doubt are all well fucking aware.

A problem for later, you suppose.

“They can't imagine,” she says, unique to just her when she's at the end, more coherent, not less. “My tiny pussy—filled so—fucking—deep,” breathlessly, urgently, getting off on saying it, getting off on knowing it's getting you off too, “Stretched—ruined—a big cock full of cum saved just for me.”

Using her in every way girls like her should never be, but pussies like hers are built for—fucktoy, fleshlight, cocksleeve on long legs—holy fuck, fuck, fuck.

“I deserve it—don't I? A nice load, deep inside,” whimpering, proper quiver in her lip, and a last beg for good measure; loading her ammo, cocking her gun, finger on the trigger, “Can't stop—like that—don't you dare—”

Like you could—”Not going anywhere,” you remind her, holding on to where she's flickering between hard and soft; Tzuyu, hot as fuck all over and even hotter when she cums and tells you—

“Harder—”

Trying to—

“Fuck me—”

You're there—

“Please—please—please—”

She only needs to ask once because her cunt is divine, wrapped around you and leaving you with nowhere to go but up and down, back and forth; fucking her with nothing but terrible, wonderful intention until your hand is under her hip, slapped across her ass, forcing her to change the angle so she goes completely rigid and oh—oh—oh fuck—

“So—gah—good—”

Running straight through it—keep the angle; drive harder. The arch of her spine, lifting herself up, abs peeling off your waist and there's a gap, the opportunity—thumb back on her clit and she's clenching around you in warning pulses.

Thighs locking around your waist, hairline fractures in your hipbones, her body winding up—she's—you can feel her everywhere.

A wet choke, a stunned gasp, cunt swallows, gushes, inks something with her cum down the veins of your cock and she says it in case you miss it—

“Fuck—how the fuck do you make me cum so—”

Hitting her, tearing her apart—long, so loud—like she never stopped, and maybe she hadn't; been on that frequency since you first pushed inside her, and it'd make sense—her pupils at that dreamy sheen, stars in her eyes, shot into the stratosphere on your cock—and yeah, you'll take it, die with it, leap off the truck and declare WITNESS MEEEEE for all to see.

But she's not done. Yeah, she's fucked open and out, but her pussy's got other ideas, and her mind's on the same wavelength.

“Yours,” she says, fierce, needy, petulant; the princess turned brat, a rare, precious occurrence. “Give me yours—all of it—now—please—inside—”

And she keeps demanding, the sounds getting worse and better simultaneously; run out of proper onomatopoeia for her cunt on your cock, inventing brand-new ones to make up for it; her moans are climbing back up to join the fray. Despite it all, despite that she's just cum, she's oversensitive, rattling with it, but still taking it anyway, pulling it from you—gorgeous in every way, every inch, every configuration—what you get when you take Tzuyu from the stage and fuck her this hard and for this long and she clearly does not give a fuck that she's literally crying for your cock and cum and cannot stop—

“I'm begging for you to—”

“I'm here,” and her pussy milks it out of you, twists, pulls, grips—long rolling quivers around you. You're sunken deep into her, can't move, can't do anything but twitch and you don't know when you started but you're kissing her hard, groaning into her throat and following her over.

In the midst of it, cock spasming inside her, detonation on either side of your timeline—was there a before, is there an after? Or is there just this, now; soul leaving your body and flooding this ludicrously tight, hot cunt and—where were you again, what's your fucking name even—do you even care to find out because this gorgeous, unbelievable, unreal girl has got you in the sweetest embrace, lips, arms, pussy and all; clearly working through her own aftershocks, draining every last drop and stray thought out of you, and it goes on and on, and her legs are holding you there and it goes on a little longer.

White—at the edges, her cunt, your vision, it's all the same at this point; just fucking it all into her, stuffing her full, bulging her tight belly with you whole; all of you, all of the future yous too and what do you have to say for yourself:

“Take my fucking cum, Tzu—”

And what does she have in response?

“So much—all mine—God, fill me, please—”

It comes back gradually.

Names, places, details colouring the edges.

Tzuyu—small, floating on air, hovering on your cock, eyes half-lidded, glazed, satisfied; something that leans narcotic. Faint tears tracking down her cheeks, somehow reaching your tongue, or it's her sweat, or yours; but it's just hot and salty and that just about sums up the both of you.

You feel her heartbeat coming down against yours; survey the damage, the mascara that survived an entire concert but couldn't make it past this, the hair that's been reset and tangled and still looks wonderfully her. The corset was left by the mirror. The shorts surrendered somewhere close by.

“Could you ever—” Tzuyu comes to life, first to speak, let you know that she's still with you in the land of the living. “Fuck me normally?”

You laugh. “What's that like?”

“Like, leave me with some dignity.” She shifts; the ooze of cum, the exaggerated pornographic audio that accompanies it as it seeps out around the seal of her perfect plump pussy-lips glued to your cock proves her point.

“Sounds boring.”

“It would leave us with a lot less explaining to do,” she says, and you're already on clean-up duty, thumb to her cheek, wiping away the stragglers there; piece-by-piece, reassembling this demolished dream of a girl.

“To who?”

Tzuyu gives you a look.

“I think we're well past that,” you say, rattling down your list; “Nayeon, definitely. Sana can't say shit after what she got up to in Paris.”

“I know, but—”

“Momo literally fist-bumped me in the hallway and said, See you in Valhalla, brother,” and that has Tzuyu snorting into your neck, adorable, winning, her; still all wet and shaking and in tears from how hard she came.

Another lazy squeeze of her walls around you, habitual milking at this point, and she sighs, repeating, “Valhalla, Christ.”

“Legitimately.”

And she tests her muscles around you again, intentionally this time, and you throb back, and you're steering the car back onto the road now, putting things back on the most obvious paths—”You're going to give me a reputation.”

“It'll look great alongside mine,” you muse, drag your palms up those thighs once more, thumbing the damage, the territory marked and yeah; the stylist, make-up artists, she's gonna get a real talking to. “We can compare notes.”

She adjusts, twists; obscene, and more of your load starts to run, messy, dripping down her folds and onto your lap, waiting to be fucked right back into her; it's an intersection of indecency—pretty, fucked-up, dangerous.

Tzuyu in a nutshell.

Noticing: “You're still hard.”

Noticing back: “You're still sitting on it.”

Rolling her hips once, experimental, having you both groaning, moaning in stereo. She reads your face and knows what's coming next.

“How long do you think before Jeongyeon comes knocking again?” And it's already published by the time you say it—posted, trending, bookmarked—out there to be read and thumbed through—she's giggling all girlish and cute, you're laughing dark and low; she's getting flipped onto her back, pressed into the couch cushions that once had bigger aspirations than this.

Those thighs—again; downright incredible things, run out of words to bless them, just holy fuck do they spread so nicely, automatically falling open, heels in the air, knees hooked high over your shoulders. Tzuyu, Tzuyu, Tzuyu—built to be handled exactly like this.

A look in her eyes, the adoration there, the only lovers left alive of it all, the I'll hold your hand and jump off the cliff with you if you'd just lead me, has you thinking all sorts of romantic shit: I love you, marry me, let's maybe finish up by doing something dumb to make this something permanent.

But the comments are in your head again, so:

“I'm going to die between those thighs.”

Tzuyu cocks an eyebrow, you're just reciting the obvious. “Good.”

“Yeah?”

“I'll sit on your face in the afterlife too.”

“Hell of a way to spend eternity,” and you're already moving, laughing, tongue wrestling her down but there's no need, she was, is, always has been; apparently forever will be even after you're bones and dust—yours.

Hand on her thigh, one last time for good measure, pressing your fingerprints into the give of it, stamping off on a job well fucked, and she has to say: “Baby, you are so, ridiculously—”

You don't answer, electing to focus on thrusting back into her.

Fuck being humble, you are giving her the works, pumping in and out of her at paces you've only dreamed of reaching.

Her back arches as you grab at her hips, keeping her still as she squirms.

Her cunt is so fucking wet on your cock, it's pure agony, Pleasure's incarnate as it draws you back in with every pump.

But you can't cum yet, not after all the times your girlfriend has milked your cock dry without her finishing. You can't go through fingering her again to completion as your spent cock flops lifelessly on your pelvis.

"I t-turned you into a good little fuck, didn't I?" she teases, but her face is anything but composed. Her chest, her perky little tits bounce with the huff and puffs of her chest.

It only eggs you on, you lean forward a bit so you're over top of her, ram her from a better angle.

Her hands jump to your back, grasping, clawing at it in pleasure. She's most definitely drawn blood with her scratches. Worth it. Especially with that look on her face, mouth hanging agape, eyes screwed up in pleasure.

You've fucked her enough to know that pace isn't the only thing that matters. There are other things to look for, and when her pussy clenches even tighter, you know to prop yourself up, opt for slower, deeper thrusts. You also know to take a thumb, reach it down to her sopping wet cunt, find that stiff little clit you and flick.

Her hands, now at her side find the bedsheets and clench, her body trembles and her pussy squeezes you so hard you almost pass out.

But you don't, you thrust triumphantly knowing this is the third time tonight you've made her cum on your cock.

She lets out a squeal, all high and hoarse as her whole body convulses.

You still adminster soft pumps until her pussy ceases its tension, then you fall back onto the bed.

She's laying there, still a little out of it, and to say your cock is throbbing would be a gross understatement. It's writhing, your balls are so full of cum the head is nearly leaking. But your stamina is waning.

"Shit, Yeji," you utter, still shocked at not only how damn hot she is, but how well you've performed tonight.

You should know better to count Yeji out.

Her cat-like eyes are back, looking at you with something that signals trouble.

She crawls over to you, body still trembling but still, she's as commanding as ever.

She crawls up between your legs, never breaking eye contact.

"Y-yeji," you moan as her mouth engulfs your tip. "Give me a minute," you say, despite the cum in your balls stirring, almost escaping as her lips suction you.

She lets it out with the softest little pop. "You've been such a good boy. Maybe I'll give you a reward."

Her spryness returns, and when she spins and positions herself, you almost cry of happiness.

She's on her knees, face planted into the sheets, eyes still turned back towards yours.

"Yej— are you serious?"

Her hands are stretching her ass cheeks to reveal her tight little asshole.

"Take my ass."

You get up shakily, still apprehensive, but when she smirks at you, bites her lip and says "take it," you oblige.

Your grab your cock, positioning it at entrance. Just feeling it on your tip is dizzying. Her body tenses as you rub it there. She nods lovingly towards you, and you push.

The tightness is overwhelming, you push past resistance until you slip in. If her cunt has the softnesss of clouds, her ass is a thunderstorm of pleasure. Every inch deeper sends a jolt of electricity, of pure pleasure right up your spine.

Your balls are nearly bursting, they urge you to go faster, but she's so damn tight that you might just break her if you do.

She's spreading her ass even further, her breath keeps catching in her mouth as she tenses.

"Ohh— oh my… god, babe!"

Hearing it doesn't help you focus. You barely bury yourself halfway before you have to slide out.

"Your asshole feels so fucking—"

"Fuck me," she huffs.

You chance going a little faster, a little deeper, and her hands leave her ass, one finding her pussy to rub again.

You must be in heaven, you must have God given strength to not have released swaths of semen into her tight little hole, and soon, through her wriggles, you bury yourself all the way into her.

It's ascending, the feeling, the pleasure. You've been sitting with it, unreleased for like, half an hour now, and you swear you can see clearer. You prop a leg up, and even that movement threatens your release, but it works to give traction to your thrusts.

She is positively ruined now, one arm limply at her side, other weakly rubbing her pussy as you rail her asshole.

Look, it's not like you're not ruined either. The ascension is gone, and you're almost blinded as you feel her cervix convulse through the walls of her ass.

You're thrusting with abandon now, revelling in your reward as with an almighty gasp she cums, knees giving out as her body goes limp.

You too give your final thrusts, leaning forward and burying yourself as deep as you can before pleasure ignites your every nerve on fire and with a deafening cry, you spurt into her ass.

It feels like it lasts a lifetime, you propped up, cock buried in her ass as it fills it with cum. It's too much, still being lodged inside of her, and when you pull out, you spurt more over her toned back. Your hands find her asscheeks, groping them as your final spurts paint them too.

You collapse beside her, gasping for air. She lazily crawls up, nesting herself in the nook of your arm.

"That was fucking, amazing Yeji."

She lets out a breath, kissing your chest in acknowledgement. The kisses climn up to your cheek, before that tone is back, not tired and spent but eager and wanting.

"Are you ready for your reward?"

"T-that wasn't the reward?"

"Oh honey," she settles right beside your ear, "that was just the start." With surprising strength she heaves the both of you up from the bed. "Put on something nice."

"Where are you taking me?" you ask as she stalks off to her wardrobe in a hurry.

She turns back wearing that picture perfect fucking smile. "Heaven."

---

When she said 'heaven', you didn't expect vice and sin.

The nightclub, 'Hell's Place', booms its music, shaking you to your core. Even louder, somehow, are the heaps of fans recognizing Yeji, screaming her name, pushing past each other just for a view.

But she ignors it all, dragging you further into the club until a locked door.

"Alright, Yeji?" a staff member asks, unlocking it.

A shabby little staircase leads up to: vice and sin.

Still dragging you by the arm, the upper floor isn't loud and disorienting, it's full of important looking people doing less than important things. Even then, it's luxurious, velvet couches, black marble table tops.

Powder lins the card topped tables where men with rings and slick backed hair shout obscenities and exchange money, girls walk around in lingerie, stealing attention while quietly slipping forgotten bills into their pantyhoses.

Yeji turns, sultrous look on her face. "Welcome to Club Heaven," she smiles, dragging you further in.

"Was that… was that Chaeyoung and Mina?"

"Ahh, they're here all the time. Wanna go say hi?"

"They look a little busy." Indeed they were, Chaeyoung lay nearly upside down, hips lifted into the air so that her only contact with the couch was with her neck, and Mina's tongue was jammed so far up her asshole you were almost jealous.

Almost, because Yeji nudges you again. "Good, and you will be too."

"W-what the hell is this reward, Yej?"

Further up you go. "Wanna take a guess? It's something you've wanted even before you met me."

"Something I've wanted? A treehouse?"

"Yeah, I brought you to the underground idols hub for a treehouse," Yeji rolls her eyes. "No, it's this."

Yeji pushes a door open, and inside isn't vice or sin, you decide; it's heaven. Chaeryeong lay woozy on the couch, naked, spent, cum droobling all over her tight little frame. and next to her, a man sits, head thrown back in pleasure as a woman kneel in front of him, head bobbing up and down.

There's no pretense, no room for congratulations in this reward. Yeji simply walks over to the girl, and like the leader she is, grasps her by the hair and pushes her to you.

"Go play with him," she orders, getting to her knees in front of the other. "He deserves it."

The sight of Yeji plunging her hot little mouth onto the others thick cock almost makes you mad, almost makes you storm him with your fists, but now Yuna is in front of you, crazed look in her eye like she needs to replace the cock that was ripped from her mouth.

She does, however, seem to recognize you.

She shows you this by pouncing. So much for wearing something nice, Yuna's hands rip the trousers off your body.

"Don't pay attention to my Unnie," she huffs, pushing you back onto the couch. Your pants are off and your cock is hard for what feels like the hundredth time tonight. "You've always wanted to fuck me right?"

She wastes no time, doesn't leave room for an answer before her mouth wraps around you. The pleasure is unimaginable, the way her mouth suctions onto your tip. She lets it out, slurping up every ounce of saliva she left there.

"Wasn't I your bias before you started dating Yeji?" she says it so matter-of-factly, so confidently as her tongue slides up the underside of your length. "Yejin tells me all the time whenever she goes down on me, that you're always watching my fancams."

She's not usually like this, you've been dating Yeji for 3 years now, and everytime you hang out with Yuna, she's normal. But, when in Heaven, you reason.

Your eyes don't know what to focus on, Yeji's hair grasped by Mr. Muscles over there as he bucks up into her throat, Chaeryeong, now conscious and fingering herself as she watches, or Yuna, now taking your cock down deeper.

Okay, you folded, the way Yuna's throat closes around your cock like the perfect little sleeve is mesmerizing, not to mention how she simply refuses to break eye contact with you.

Her face as she's suctioning your cock is otherworldy, hollowed out cheeks, mouth almost springing so it stays latched to your manhood.

"You taste like Yeji-unnie," she moans, as if that fact alone gives her physical pleasure. She sits up, turning around to show her wide, oh so sexy hips. "Let's change that, shall we?"

She climbs up on the couch, legs on either side of you before lowering herself onto your waiting member.

"Nngh, shit," she moans as she takes your throbbing tip. "Yo-you feel even better than him," she gestures lazily towards Yeji and Mr. Muscles.

The sight of Yeji, now taking him doggy style eggs you on. You grab Yuna by her thick meaty thighs, positioning her so her back is leaning on your chest, and fucking pump. You pump and pump and pump into her tight little pussy as she screams in pleasure.

If Yeji's cunt is perfect, a hole molded to your cock, Yuna's is a cave waiting to be conquered. It wraps around you, her walls fighting you in places which only makes you want to pound her harder.

"Y-you feel so fucking good, Yuna."

"N-nngh, is it like y-you've always imagined?" she groans. "Does it feel as good as you thought? Fucking my tight little pussy?"

"I-it's so fucking good!"

She's barely keeping it together, you can feel the sweat of her back rub against your chest before she turns her head towards you, tongue lolled out like it doesn't know what to do and you kiss her.

It's hot and it's passionate, but it's not love, not filled with emotion like your kisses with Yeji are, and you don't know if that makes it more or less hot.

You can hear every squelch, every slap of skin on skin while you pound her, and it's almost too much for your already spent cock to handle.

You pull, cock wet with both of your juices. You lift her off of you standing up and tossing her onto the bed. She wordlessly climbs onto her knees, arms rested on the backrest, wide, breedable hips and sopping wet cunt towards you. Fuck.

She her head. "How'd you manage? I've been wanting this for so long, but Yeji's so possessive over you."

You prop one leg up onto the couch beside you, and thrust back in. You grunt, and her breath hitches.

"Nngh, fuck Yuna— I fucked her in the ass," you pound proudly. "I made her cum with my cock in her ass!"

You feel Yuna's walls tighten at the information. The slap that echoes from you pounding into her like this is louder than the club downstairs.

"H-holy shit, keep going," she strains. "Did you really? S-she only lets us fuck her ass."

Hearing this is enough to push you over the edge. Your pounding harder, and Yuna can feel it. You can tell by the way she turns excitedly, those eyes still crazed as she pushes her hips harder into you.

"That turn you on? Oh, the amount of times Lia has strapped on for her, pounding her until she's screaming."

You pump and pump.

"Not to mention Ryujin," Yuna continues through her moans. "Ryujin likes to tie our leader to the bed, fuck her ass until she's it's red and raw— nngh, just like that, fuck."

"Fuck, Yuna, I'm cumming," you groan as you attempt to pull out.

Yuna backs her hips into you as you do, and you burst into her, spilling all your hot load you thought exclusive to Yeji into her. She continues backing into you, microthrusts as you pump load after load into her.

She slowly eases off of your cock, and with a squelch, heaps of your load spills from her cunt. She collapses back onto the couch.

She eyes you, body failing after your wild night, but a look of disappointment recaptures your attention. "We're not done yet, I still haven't finished." Her fingers plunge into her pussy, pushing your juices further into her.

"H-holy shit, Yuna."

Before you can make another move Yeji is back, hands on your shoulder, pulling you into a kiss.

Yuna crosses her arms sulkily.

"I'm back," she says. "How was Yuna?"

"Good," you grunted. "And how was Mr. Muscles over there?" you gesture to the guy, who now has Chaeryeong's pussy covering his face.

"Ohh, is someone jealous?" she kisses you again. "Since when were we exclusive? He tried to fuck my ass, and well, that's only for you and the girls."

You pull her close by the hips. "Damn right it is," you plant another kiss."

"Unnie, that's all well and great, but, we weren't finished here," Yuna pouts.

Yeji drops to her knees in front of Yuna. "I think I'll be taking my boyfriend back for tonight, but I'll take care of you."

Yuna bites her lip, cheeks going scarlet.

"Do you want your Unnie to take care of you?"

Yuna uncrosses her arms as Yeji saddles up on the floor, inches away from Yuna's cunt.

"Yuna, use your words. Do you want your leader to suck the cum of her boyfriend out of your naughty little cunt?"

Yuna's facade breaks. "Yes, Unnie," she moans.

Yeji wraps her arms around Yuna's thighs, plunging her face into Yuna's cum filled cunt. The salacious sounds of Yuna, moaning all high and bratty, and Yeji, positively slurping on her fill the room, invigorating your cock once again.

Yeji, as if she knows, pushes her hips out for you.

It's a different feeling, fucking Yeji here, while she slurps your seed out of Yuna's squirming body.

It's probably better. Her tightness is mid-dizzying, and you should've known better than to compare Yuna's pussy to hers. Yeji's was simply made for you. It's pleasure beyond physical, it ignites your soul.

Yun's head is rolled back, squirming, hands flying around like she doesn't know what to do with them, from squeezing her own tits to grasping Yeji's hair.

And you pound Yeji, every thrust shoving her tongue further into Yuna until her face is a mess of Yeji's slickness, her own saliva, and your cum.

You well up whatever stamina you have left, and pound into her.

The room is a mess of moans and slaps, before Yuna, all high and unfocused, screams. She cums into Yeji, covering her face with even more liquid, and you too are approaching your limit.

You feel the familiar tightening in your pelvis, before releasing whatever semen your body can scrounge up into Yeji again. The bodies in the room are slick with sweat and cum, and you fall, no collapse back onto the floor, muscles seizing up.

You faintly see Yeji climb up to Yuna, kissing, sloppily swapping the liquids still in her mouth, and you can't help but faintly wonder if your girlfriend could win a sex marathon. It's your last thought before exhaustion takes you.

It's short lived, though, you're shaken awake and you can still see Yuna and Yeji frenching. Chaeryeong climbs atop you.

"You're not finished yet, are you?"

It’s one thing to be playing strip blackjack with your roommate for the fun of it, bored out of your mind because the semester’s over and the both of you decided not to go back to your hometowns for reasons out of both your control. It’s another to be playing strip blackjack when you’re down to your boxers and she’s still somehow halfway to getting into her birthday suit.

You probably should’ve told her to take off her jacket and all the accessories she was wearing. Having each one as an individual piece of clothing is the most bullshit excuse you’ve ever heard, more so when you realized she has earrings and socks on.

“Oh come on,” she starts, throwing her hands up in the air. “Are you that scared of me seeing your dick? It’s not that small from what I remem–”

“Fuck you.” You send a middle finger her way. “I'm on eighteen and you’re on fifteen. You hit.”

Playing safe normally isn’t what you prefer doing, the need to throw down another card tempting you. But the odds of getting anything below a three is so goddamn miniscule, you’d be guaranteeing your loss.

And this is not how you thought having Sooin see you naked after God knows how long would go.

Sooin grabs the stack of cards, taking the first off the deck. She doesn’t flip yet, only placing it down next to her two fours and a seven. “I bet this is a six,” she says, tapping on the card.

“And I bet that it’s anything but a six,” you counter, and she graces you with a laugh.

“Willing to bet your boxers on that?” she asks, nodding to said clothing. Your last line of defense to your dignity, pride, ego. But if that saying about a good defense is a good offense applies here, then you might as well use it to your advantage.

“You willing to bet your entire top off for it?” you counter, leaning back on your chair. It’s a gamble, not one you’re sure she’ll bite on, yet you’re desperate. In dire need of a hail mary, and this—this is your one shot to getting it.

Besides, seeing her tits is a major plus.

“Bitch, I’ll bet everything I’m wearing it’s a six.” The way she sounds so confident about it makes you think she’s somehow rigged the deck when though you’ve been the one that’s been shuffling it since the beginning of this whole thing.

She does the job for you, when she slams the cards down on the table. Crossing her arms and smirks at you. 

“I’ll even bet something better for you,” Sooin starts, her legs crossing, and the smooth expanse of her skin starts to entice you, her shorts riding up and showing even more of those thighs. “If I don’t get a six, I’ll be free use for you for the entire week,” she states, the glee in her face dropping an offer that only the devil would ever give. “And we got all week.”

“Sooin, what the fuck–” You’ve known this woman for years, since she barged in your life as your roommate in the middle of your sophomore year and called the supposed guest room as hers. With the amount of shit the both of you have gotten up to with all that time—the rare sex with her included—this has got to be the most dangerous thing she’s ever done. “You don’t offer that up like it’s nothing–”

“Sure I can,” she says, rolling her eyes at you. “We’ve fucked before, what’s so difference about this?”

“We don’t have to be betting shit like that.” You dodge the question, your own legs cross to hide the growing erection in your pants. “We can stick to clothes–”

“Boring.” Her fingers twirl around the curls of her hair. “You need some spice in your life. Some flair. And I’m offering it to you.” Her head tilts. “‘Sides, when was the last time you got laid? Was it that Chaeyoung girl–”

“Chaewon,” you correct, shaking your head. Now she has you hooked on the deal being offered. Your entire wager flipped on you, and you can’t tell if she’s being serious or not. “And that’s pretty rich coming from you.”

“Whatever her name is–” She shrugs, avoiding your own question by picking up one of her cards and tapping it on the table. “I’m here offering you a once in a lifetime deal. And we’d both be happy at the end of it.” 

Tap. Tap. Tap.

“Anytime you want.”

Tap. Tap. Tap.

“Anywhere you want.”

Taptaptaptap—

“Anything you want–”

“If you don’t get a six,” you enunciate, syllable by syllable. “You’ll just–what, do as I say?”

“If I don’t get a six,” Sooin repeats, hand pausing the drumming of the paper. “I’ll do whatever the fuck you want. No holds barred. No questions asked. You can have me on my knees right now if you win–”

“Jesus Christ, Swim.” Your palm meets your face, in complete disbelief of what she’s saying. You sigh, real fucking deep, gaze going up to the ceiling for a moment, trying to think about the whole thing. Yet your mind’s already made up, and all you can do is ask about the one thing that you’re sure will happen.

“And if you do pull a six?”

“Then you be free use instead.” The answer is instant, and that is where she gets you. When you think about it, it sounds like a win win situation. “Actually, let’s make this easier for the both of us.” So nice of her, you think.

“If you have a worse hand than mine, you lose.” That’s mildly easier, but still impossible. Besides, only the crazy ones would ever think of hitting on an eighteen. “And the same goes to me.” She points to the one face down on the table. “Shittier hand than yours, I lose.”

“This has to be bait.” The comment slips out, airing out the first thing that came to mind hearing the terms.

“It’s not.” The look of disbelief on your face makes her gape at you. “I’m not joking, it’s not.”

“Sure, and you didn’t rig the deck so you win again.”

“I didn’t rig jackshit, thank you very much. You need to believe in the heart of the cards.”

“Whatever you say, Yugi,” you chuckle. You glance at the deck, and that top card is begging you to take it. Get the whole thing over and done with, the result be damned. 

Though, there is an instance of—

“What happens if we both go over?”

“Easy.” She shrugs. “Then we both win.” 

Your head leans back in surprise. “How the hell does that even work?” 

“I get to fuck you whenever, you do the same. It’s not rocket science.” Another shrug. “Your other head would do the thinking.”

“And I’m starting to think you’re the one who needs to get laid,” you comment, and she graces you with a smirk.

“It’s a win win type of deal.” She ignores the dig, propping her chin up with her hand. “Just depends who wins more.” She gives you a pointed look. “So, you in or out?”

Sooin’s not wrong. It is a win win deal, and you’d be an idiot not to take it.

You sigh. 

“Fine.”

Your hand grabs the card, sliding it off the stack and placing it next to your two cards. “Who goes first?”

“Same time?” Sooin asks, fingers ready to flip the card on her side. 

You nod, hand prepped to do the same. “This is insane, you know,” you mutter, licking your lips. Foot tapping rapidly—in anticipation or nervousness, you don’t know—and shaking your head at her. “Absolutely fucking crazy.”

“You can always back out.” She takes her time with it, pushing the edges up slowly, her gaze focused on you rather than on the piece of paper in her hands. “Or are you really a pussy?”

Well, those are some fighting words. And you didn’t get raised like a bitch to back off.

“Just fucking do it already, Sooin.” 

She smirks, and with a flourish, she turns it over faster than you can. Your eyes land on her hand, and lo and be-fucking-hold, it’s a goddamn eight.

Everything rushes at you, all at once—relief, shock, joy, unease. It’s all there, because on one hand, you just won a bet against Sooin. On the other, the bet’s stipulations scare the utter life out of you.

“Would you look at that,” Sooin scoffs, grinning at you. “We both lost.”

You blink, and you look down to your own hand.

Twenty Eight.

Heart in the fucking cards your ass—

“No fucking way that just happened.” She huffs a laugh, staring at your hands. “Did we seriously both fucking lose?”

“You’re the one that said to believe in the heart of the cards,” you retort, shaking your head at how things have ended up.

“You know what?” She stands up, picking up the cards and fixing them up back into a single deck. “I’m going to hold up my end of the deal.” Doesn’t even let you soak it in, simply takes your hand away from you and places it back onto the set. “That better be the same for you too.”

“What the fuck does that mean–”

“It means,” Sooin cuts you off, placing the deck neatly on the center of the table. “I’m going to be riding the fuck out of you tomorrow. Or, you know–”

She gives you an innocent smile, as if her words are to become a common occurrence in your household for the week. She bends down, her lips so close to whisper temptations in your ear. Whatever you want, she says, your name rolling past her lips. “All week long.”

Leaves you with a kiss on the cheek and a pat on the shoulder as she heads to her bedroom. Doesn’t bother waiting for a response, instead settling for a—

“Goodnight!”

While you’re over here slumping on your chair, staring at her door and shaking your head at the absurdity of it all.

What the hell did you get yourself into?

—

Sleeping late came naturally to you.

The mental gymnastics you’ve done to convince yourself that everything Sooin said was some sick prank she’s pulling on you, that you’d be waking up to another normal day with her, lazing about and wasting another day doing nothing along with all the other reasons you tell yourself—made you lose your mind trying to instill all of that in your head.

Add to trying to understand why Sooin started that bet at all when she really didn’t have to, aside from the obvious one that your brain is telling you isn’t at all the reason, and you’re almost to a point where you need to admit yourself to a mental asylum trying to figure it out.

You’re almost glad that this didn’t happen during exam week, or else you would’ve been failing all of it left and right with the lack of sleep. Or stamina, if Sooin really was serious.

Which she wasn’t, of course.

You don’t know if you can stop yourself from taking advantage of the bet if she ever gave you any form of a go signal. And if she was, you know she would do the same.

Still, all those days trying to survive the term has made your body’s alarm clock ring, causing you to wake up in the early hours of the morning thinking that there’s some eight o’clock lecture you need to be up for. While you could always stay in, as there is nothing to wake up to this early for the next few weeks, your stomach rumbling tells you otherwise.

So here you are, dragging yourself to the kitchen to make some instant coffee that barely turns you into a functional human being, a bowl of cereal made while you wait for the kettle to heat the water. You would have loved to have some bacon and eggs but alas, someone forgot to do this week’s groceries.

Eventually, Sooin comes out of her room looking the complete opposite of you. It says a lot already, considering you look like a dead man walking and she slept like a baby last night. Arms stretching out as she walks towards you, slumping on the chair opposite of you. Greets you with such energy you’d think she isn't the Sooin you know.

And yet she is, staring at you eating your bowl miserably, a smile on her lips as she leans back on the chair. “You look like shit,” she muses, and she doesn’t need an answer from you to know why. 

“Didn’t get much sleep last night.” You play along with it, pretend that everything about last night doesn’t have you in a chokehold.

“I bet.” Her elbow rests on the top back of her chair. “Need a little pick me up?”

She’s dangling the entire thing in front of you, gauging to see just how far you’re willing to keep up with this charade. And if you weren’t so mentally exhausted you could have—should have—said no outright, trying to prevent the impending roller coaster that’s coming your way. And yet your brain decides to make things as ambiguous as possible.

“The coffee can do.” You nod to the kettle, where you are waiting for the stupid thing to finish heating up.

“You sure?” She raises an eyebrow, her eyes glances at the kettle herself. “I’m available to help out, if you want me to.”

The wording isn’t lost on you, making you smile as you raise a spoon full of cereal and milk. “Yeah, Swim. I’m sure.”

She grins, her mouth opening to speak until the kettle finally pings. The both of you take a glance at it, steam rising out of the opening. You move to handle it, but Sooin tells you that she’ll do it instead. Need a cup myself, she says as she passes by, leaving you to eat your cereal in peace.

You take the moment to take a few more spoonfuls as you think up ways of conveniently not run into Sooin for the week, but living with her makes that a daunting task. Being a shut in is always an option, but you’d go insane doing nothing in your room eventually. Or go out everyday until the week ends, check out the mall or go on a quick adventure out of town somewhere. 

You can feel your wallet begging you not to do it, making you wonder if you can find another part time for a week at some cafe or convenience store. Whatever to get you out and about and not being with Sooin twenty four seven.

Not that you weren’t against the whole thing. Hell, you want it. In the face of last night, anyone would be stupid not to accept it. Much like you are being an idiot about it.

It’s almost like a slap in the face, when you realize that you could’ve had her on her knees right about now.

The doubt slowly begins to leave your mind, when all the signs point towards Sooin taking it seriously come filling in. You’re being a complete dumbass—no, more than that for wasting a perfectly good night’s rest in exchange for losing your mind for something that really, really should not have been worth losing sleep over. 

You’ll be losing sleep over fucking Sooin instead.

The chair you’re sitting on gets pulled away from the table, and the soft, warm weight of Sooin straddles you. Her arms wrap around your neck as she takes a spot on your lap, not allowing you to leave.

“Sooin, what are you–”

“I won last night too, you know.” Her hips roll against yours, making you clench your teeth and tense up. A quick glance tells you that she’s taken her shorts off, leaving her in just her panties and a shirt tight enough to let you know she wasn’t wearing a bra underneath. “And since you won’t start, I figured I would.”

She pulls you in for a kiss, and everything you thought of—the denials, the doubt—fully goes out the window when you can finally have a taste of her lips once again. And she’s a force of nature, infecting your mind and body with an overwhelming sense of Sooin; how she smells, her grinding on your cock, her lips exploring yours for the first time.

“You taste like milk,” she says, a quiet chuckle coming out of her as your hands find her waist. She keeps her pace tortuously slow, your cock twitching and aching and wanting more.

“I did just have cereal.” Stating the obvious, obviously. “What else did you think I’d taste like?”

“I don’t know–” she teases, arms coming down to undo the tie of your shorts. “But I’d be happy to find out. We have all week, remember?”

You raise your hips, helping her fish your cock out from your clothing. “Right,” you sigh out, her hand caressing your length, lightly gripping it and giving you a few exploratory pumps. “All week.”

Sooin smiles, pecking your lips once more. “There he is.” She straightens up, her hand finding a rhythm in her strokes, and your cock hardens at her touch. “Guess a woman’s touch makes you fold quick, huh?”

“Shut the fuck up, Sooin,” you laugh, a hand coming down to squeeze her thigh. “I can feel you dripping through your panties, you know.”

“Blame a girl for finally being able to fuck her roommie again, why doncha.” Her words make you the last time you two fooled around. 

“I don’t remember that.” You do. Of course you do. It was a drunken affair on both your ends because of some party she was attending at her rich best friend’s house on the other side of town. You weren’t even supposed to be there, but someone apparently needed to pick her up. One thing led to another, and you’re waking up on her bed, tangled in her sheets. 

“That’s a shame.” She knows you’re lying. You both acted like strangers for a better part of a month, and the only thing that got things back to normal was yet another party.

Sooin pulls her panties to the side, lining herself up with your dick. Circling her wet folds around your tip, getting you slick with her juices as she slowly plunges down on you. “Here’s a reminder then.”

A deep moan rumbles out of you, head tilting back as her heat begins to wrap around your length. “Jesus, Sooin–” Your grip on her hips grow firmer, your eyes watching her face morph into an expression of such pleasure that the only thing you can do is stare and admire every small microexpression she makes.

“God, I’m going to enjoy this,” Sooin sighs, eyes fluttering shut for a moment when she nearly bottoms out on your shaft, her walls hugging you so fucking tightly. “Sit back and enjoy, yeah?”

She takes a minute to get used to you filling her, let you stretch her out and leave you simmering in her heat. Doing these little rolls of her hips that gets you twitching inside of her, moans coming out of the both of you. “Missed this filling me up so fucking well–”

“So you did just want to get laid,” you tease, taking your hands off her momentarily to push them underneath her shirt, wanting to feel her skin instead of fabric. “Could’ve just asked.”

A scoff escapes her, her fingers giving your scalp a quick tug. “Excuse me for not wanting to get in between you and that Chaewon chick–”

“Sooin, nothing happened.” Her questioning look makes you repeat your words.

“Uh huh.” She presses her weight down on you, bottoming out and taking your entire length. You let out a groan, eyes closing at the sheer pressure of her cunt taking you. Another tug of your hair gets you quickly opening them back up. “And I didn’t watch you mope around the day after.”

“What? No–” You shake your head, confused to where the hell she was trying to take this conversation. You would think she would prefer that you focus on her considering your balls deep in her cunt, and yet Sooin continues to surprise you. “She was just a fling, okay? Nothing else happened.”

And she was. You met her at a party, you two had sex, you went your separate ways. You moping around the day after was because even after getting laid, it didn’t change the fact that you flunked your exam before it. It’s a miracle you managed to tell her all of that while her pussy pulses around you, her grinding on your cock making you stutter your words.

Fingers tap on your neck, her gaze narrowing at your explanation. “So you don’t have feelings for her?” She slowly begins to bounce on your lap, and the insanity of what’s happening right now is starting to get to you. Interrogated about some girl while getting fucked by your—well, an important girl is something to cross off the list.

“Sooin, we fucked. That’s it.” You squeeze her hips, biting your lip at the sensation of Sooin clenching around you. “Can we pl–please go back to focusing on this?”

She doesn’t answer you. At least, not verbally. Her rhythm goes faster, harder, fucking herself on you like she’s chasing her own high. Her weight presses down on you, pulling herself close to your chest, her breath hot in your ear as her moans consume your senses. 

“You fucking focus,” she mutters, her hold on you tightening, ass dropping down on your lap. She’s insatiable, so much more different than the last time. Frantic in how she rides that you can barely hold on with your life. “Just–sit still, stay hard, and make me cum you son of a–”

It’s sending you to the edge fast, barely being able to hang on. Even when you’re trying to hold off and fight back against what your body is demanding you to do. Sooin's increasingly erratic movements; bouncing and grinding and fucking herself on your cock until all you can think of is filling her with your load.

“Don’t think I can, Swim.” It comes out shaky from you, amidst all Sooin’s moans and skin against skin hitting against each other. Arms wrap around her waist, pulling her in and saying her name. Sooin, Sooin, Sooin please—

“Go ahead.” Her words are a shot to the brain, an unraveling of your entire nervous system and turning a singular thought into reality.

“Cum inside me.”

It’s stupid how quickly you crumble at those words. Your mouth finds her neck, biting down gently as your cock unloads inside her. Each spurt comes with a content moan from Sooin, singing straight into your ears. Euphoria consumes your senses, nipping and marking her neck as your eyes threaten to roll back from the pleasure.

“That’s it,” she coos, her grip vice-like around you, each throb of your cock filling her cunt full of your load. She puts her entire weight on you, unable to leave her warm embrace as you try to fuck your load deeper into her. “Fucking needed this–”

Sooin bites her lip, savoring the entire thing, basking in the afterglow of it all. The grin on her face tells you exactly how much she’s enjoyed it, and you can only imagine what else you’ll be looking at for the rest of the week.

“So,” she starts, lips finding your cheek to leave a gentle little peck. “Coffee?”

You chuckle, licking the spot where you’ve left a red mark on her neck. “Sure, Sooin.” Watch her slowly pull away, your cock leaving her walls and letting the cum that you’ve dumped inside her to spill down to the floor.

Neither of you do anything to clean it up right now, considering—

“Coffee sounds great.”

—

You don’t see Sooin until the late afternoon, coming back to your apartment after a day of finally doing her turn to do the groceries. You would’ve tagged along if not for the fact that you had to do the laundry this week around, and pair it up with helping her stock the cupboard full of what she bought and you’re sinking down on the couch.

“I don’t think we needed that much for this week,” you complain, eyes staring up at the ceiling. Buying almost double of what you two normally get makes you wonder where the hell she got enough cash to buy that, but her reply gets you to scoff in disbelief.

“Supermarket had a sale,” she grunts, sliding down next to you, head on your lap as a makeshift pillow. “Thought it’d be smart to buy as much as I can.”

“Your wallet agree with that?”

“Nope.” She pops the syllable, taking out her phone, tapping away at the screen. “Not like my wallet can’t handle it. At least we won’t have to worry about things here for a while.”

A while is an understatement. She bought enough for you both to stop buying any essentials for a month. And while you know she can afford much more than that, you had to convince her that you're not going to freeload off her in your own place.

Because for all the oddest reasons, the fact that she has fuck you money to spend yet only splurges it on things she likes is such an odd combination. Exactly how she ended up taking your guest room instead of getting her own place.

You remember her words clear as day. Too expensive and high maintenance. Which is, again, a weird thing to say when she can pay people to handle it for her, but she says it's for her own good more than anything. Gotta learn to be independent some day, might as well be now, she said. 

“Look at you, being a responsible adult,” you tease, finger reaching down to poke her cheek. She immediately swats it away with a roll of her eyes.

“Fuck off,” she chuckles, eyes never straying from her phone. “We’ve been needing to stock up on all that stuff anyway.”

“I don’t think we needed that much instant ramen though.” Your gaze flicks to the stack of it by the counter. “Seriously, that might be a little too much.”

“To you, maybe,” she says, turning her phone horizontally. “I’ll be eating some too, you know.”

“You mean all of it?” The light jam of her elbow to your ribs gets you laughing.

The conversation ends there, and the only thing left to fill the empty silence are the shooting that comes from her phone and whatever it is that you’ve decided to watch on the TV. It stays like that for a while, and your boredom continues to grow at each passing second, each passing commercial, each movement of Sooin’s head on your lap—

The thought of asking her to, you don’t know, do something to her sounds inane. Breakfast’s events come flooding your memories, and as much as you want to do the same thing to her, you want to test the waters first.

Your arm comes to rest at her stomach, playing with the hem of her top. It gets her to flinch in surprise, gaze flickering up to you.

“What are you doing?” There’s a knowing glint in her eyes; one that tells you that an answer doesn’t need to be told, when she already has an idea of what you want. An eyebrow raises when you slowly drag your fingers upward.

“Nothing,” you say, resting your palm on one of her breasts, covered in layers of fabric. Your eyes are still watching the television—some old cartoon about a cat and mouse—while your fingers play around her chest. “You don’t mind, do you?”

Sooin lets out a scoff, biting her lip to stop the grin on her face as she comes back to her phone. “Do what you want.” 

Well, alright then.

Your hands wander; kneading her breasts with light squeezes, running your hands through the curves of her body. They eventually find themselves pushing under her top, wanting to feel the smooth expanse of her tummy up to her tits.

She doesn’t make a single complaint throughout, allowing all this to happen. When you run up and down her body, all she does is let out these hums. When your fingers pull her bra down so that you can play around with her nipples, her legs squirm and push together. 

And when you ask if you can use her mouth, she hits you back with another question:

“Are you asking or telling?”

A quick tug of your drawstrings, a little repositioning of Sooin’s head as you take your cock out, already at half mast, and pointing it to her mouth, tongue out and waiting. “I’ll be quick,” you say, a laughable lie as you know you’re going to be taking your sweet time with her.

She does fuck all about it, keeping on with her game as your hand rests on her hair as you thrust languidly into her wet mouth. Your shaft growing to full length the longer you stay inside her throat, and she shifts to get into a more comfortable position. As comfortable as she can get, having a cock in her mouth while her hands are busy playing.

Her cheek bulges, her throat takes you deep, her tongue flattens under your length. Yet her eyes never stray from her phone, hearing the sounds of combos being hit and encouraging cheers from her phone. She mutters words you barely understand, and as much as you want to pull out and ask, she hasn't told you to stop.

That only gets you to push it further, a firmer grasp on her head to drive your hips forward. Spit begins to accumulate around her mouth, dripping down to coat you; a sound akin to a whine vibrates around your shaft as her focus on the game breaks.

Her head fights back against your pushes for a moment, your grip relaxing to let her talk. “Let me finish this match first,” she mutters before her lips meet your tip, wrapping around you and keeping you in her mouth.

It’s absurd, how warm her mouth is. Managing to get you squirming without moving an inch, only the sliding of her tongue up and down the tip of your cock. Tongue swirling and cheeks hollowing gets your thighs flexing from the sheer pressure that she’s inflicting upon you. Your fingers come back resting on her hair, gripping her dark locks, wanting—needing to take back control.

So you do. Hands start to push and pull her around your cock, and she’s spluttering; fingers stumbling around her phone, causing it to fall down to the couch. They find your thighs, steadying herself as she manages to fall down to her knees, using her mouth for the sinful pleasure that she offers. Even with the spittle that starts to fall down her chin, the glare that her eyes are piercing you with, and the slight whine she makes as you so rudely interrupt her game, she makes no movement to stop you.

Hell, it feels like she’s leaning into it. Decency thrown out the window as more drool comes to coat your cock, bobbing her head faster than the pace you’ve set. The annoyance in her eyes fading away for this hunger that you’ve caused. 

And you relish in it. Your hips thrust up just as her head comes down, your moans and praises of her lips meshing with the dirty noises that she creates, pushing you further down to your end.

“Sooin–” Your head leans back, hissing in a breath when you make her take you deep, throat convulsing around you. The sheer suction makes you weak, your thighs shaking, the grip on her head loosening. Sooin takes it as a chance to pull away, and you’re already missing the warmth of her lips around you.

“Don’t tell me when,” she says, stroking you with both hands and all that spit on your length makes it feel all so much better than it should. “Just cum in my mouth whenever, alright?”

Sooin takes you back in, and it’s taking everything in your power not to cum right then and there. Her enthusiasm is starting to take control, shining in her eyes and in her actions when her pace grows feral. The squelching and sucking grows insistent, getting your legs to lock up and grow rigid around her frame.

Your hands can’t stop themselves from taking hold of her hair, your breath ragged as you thrust into her mouth. Wanting some semblance of dictating when you inevitably let your load flood her, you take the reins back from her and start to pound away at her tight, wet throat.

Stopping has left your mind; the only thing that needs to be done is feed her your cum, using her mouth as she wants you to—as much as you can for the whole thing. And that single realization gets you to emptying your seed straight into the back of Sooin’s throat.

Each single pump of your hips elicits a moan from you, her hums at every pulse of your cock vibrating around your length. She takes every shot of your cum without complaint, milking you for everything you’re worth. Swallowing it all, even when some manage to spill over, leaking down her lips as the remains of your load begin to tide over.

Sooin makes a slow journey upward, releasing you with a wet pop. “Someone was pent up,” she teases, swiping what she couldn’t swallow off her chin and thumbing it into her waiting mouth. “You made me lose my game, by the way.”

“Yeah, well,” you breathe out, watching her run her tongue across your length, cleaning up any spit and seed that’s coating your length. “Pretty sure you can win the rank back easy.”

Her eyes roll, shaking her head at you with a smile. “Sure, I can.” She taps your cock against her swollen lips, giving the head a chaste kiss. “Can I go back to playing, or do you still need me here?”

“You and your games, Sooin.” Nodding at her with a chuckle, she gives you a few taps on your thigh before she rises up from the floor. Walking away from you for the moment to wash her hands, she comes right back to lay her head on your lap, phone in her hand and continuing her game.

As if she’s ready for you to do the same thing all over again.

The next two games she played resulted in her getting a day ban from going idle too much on ranked games. You tell yourself it wasn’t your fault that it happened.

Not at all.

—

The kiddies gloves come off after that, and the both of you decided to take full advantage of the situation you’ve ended up in. Your reluctance to follow through with this whole free use bet slash arrangement’s faded, and now every waking hour or so is spent with your cock inside of Sooin in some way, shape, or form.

You were eating dinner when Sooin got on her knees to blow you under the table, making sustenance a forgotten necessity in favor of the carnal pleasures of bending her over the table and railing a load into cunt instead.

She’d be in the shower sometime after, and she’s trying to ignore the fact that you jumped in with her, wedging your cock in between her thighs. Lathering her hair up with shampoo as you thrust between the heavenly flesh that she’s blessed with. Painting the shower wall with your cum just as she starts to soap herself up, and you join her in taking a shower after.

Can’t say you two didn’t take an hour in there, considering she wanted a round getting pounded. You’re surprised that you still had hot water by the end of it.

Her bed’s been shared by the both of you by the time you two were heading to bed, Sooin making you remember just how good of a lay she was by wringing a load out of you, the view of her ass rippling as she rides you making her achieve her goal embarrassingly quickly.

And you get her back by waking her up that morning with gentle kisses planted across her neck, your hands roaming around her body and ending up between her legs, two fingers knuckle deep inside her. Getting the sheets wet and ruined by the end of it, and you two end up complaining about who’s gonna do the laundry for it (you will).

The second day was infinitely worse than the first one, when breakfast became brunch due to Sooin wanting you on your knees, eating her out as an alternative to the morning coffee you two normally make. It ends up with the two of you swapping places, using her throat and coating her face with your cum at the end of it.

In reality, it ended when she was fucking herself on your cock right next to where your coffee was brewing, back arched and bucking back against you. It left the both of you tired, and how brunch was the only thing that made the both of you pause.

Absolute fucking degenerates, and it’s only been day two out of seven.

Which was why you invited Sooin out to pay her back for everything she bought by taking her to the mall and—

“Anything I want?” She doesn’t believe you when those words come out of her mouth. Not with how ‘frugal’ you are, or however she puts it when all you actually do is build up your savings. 

Excuse you for being a responsible adult.

“Within reason,” you correct, hands on your hips, stern face and all. “I’m not as rich as you are, Miss Bottega Veneta.”

“Yeah, yeah.” She waves you off, already turning around and walking away from you. “Come on, I know just the place where I can mooch off you.”

“Please don’t tell me it actually is Bottega Veneta.” You can hear your bank account crying out in protest inside your wallet. Quickly catching up to her, you two walk to the elevator. “I literally can’t afford that type of thing.”

“Relax,” Sooin laughs, pressing the up button. Your eyes glance up to the top, where the arrow lights up. “We can check out the department store first. I can probably get something in your budget, you stingy fuck.”

The elevator dings open, conveniently empty. “I’m not stingy,” you refute, entering the elevator first, finger pressing the fourth floor while Sooin follows suit, leaning back against the wall. “I’m trying to budget things. You know, like any adult would?”

“Oh come on–” She’s rolling her eyes at you with a grin. “We’re in college. We can afford to not be adults sometimes.”

“You can,” you argue, hands in your pockets, turning to face her. “I’m on a scholarship and you’re rich enough to probably buy this mall.”

“Let’s not go that far.” Her tone makes you think otherwise, because for all you know she actually could right this second. Another ding rings out, and the elevator doors swing open to your floor. “Come on–” She’s hooking her arm around yours. “Let’s go, Mister Sugar Daddy.”

“What the fuck did you just call me–”

The next hour consisted of you following Sooin around, browsing through the numerous bits and bobbles, clothes and accessories, doodads and thingy-ma-jigs that get her attention. Started off with checking out a new set of tableware (which was maybe needed), to a new TV (definitely not needed), whatever new phone just released (“Sooin, you just bought a new one.”).

You end up by the mattresses, where Sooin jokingly said about buying a king size so that you two can actually fit in the bed and then some. As to which you replied by asking her how the fuck you’ll fit the damn bed into either of your rooms.

And when you start walking towards the clothing section, the oddest combination of dread and excitement settle in your body. Not because you were scared of what Sooin would choose to try out (seeing her in a bikini would be a dream come true for you) but of what she would try to pull with you knowing the bet.

Because you just know she’s going to pull some shit that might get the both of you kicked out the store and the mall. 

So when she picks out a few clothes and heads to the fitting room to try them out, it’s no surprise when you get pulled into one of the stalls when no one was watching. You almost let out a yelp but her hand covering your mouth muffles the noise.

Sooin shushes you, a finger on her lips, waiting for you to show some semblance of relaxing before pulling away to close the door behind her. Hanging up the clothes on the wall rack, you were about to ask her the most obvious question on the planet, yet she speaks before you do.

“You know why I pulled you in here,” she states, pulling her jacket off and adding it to the rest of the clothes that she might not ever try out.

“In public?” Because of course you have to ask the second most obvious question.

“We have a room that can be locked and it’s big enough for two,” she answers, pushing you down to the small little chair tucked away in the corner. “Private enough for me.” She’s on her knees, fingers making quick work of your belt buckle and your zipper. One quick tug and she has your cock in her hands, at half mast and lazily stroking you with a sensual smile and a raise of her brow. “Relax, I picked the furthest room for a reason.”

“Couldn’t wait for us to get home before we do this?” It’s not a complaint so much as it is an observation. Your hands are already moving to weave through her locks when she takes you in her mouth, cock slowly growing harder in her mouth. 

“We can do it quick,” she mutters, almost inaudible when her lips stay attached to you. “‘Sides, ever wanted to see ourselves fuck?”

Your eyes glance towards the wall, glass ordaining and reflecting you both; Sooin blowing you zealously, that smoky look she gives you through the mirror making you throb in her mouth. Scoffing and shaking your head, a grin begins forming in your features. “Fuck it.” You nod to the wall. “Up against the mirror, Swim.”

Sooin grins, standing up and turning around to face the mirror. Her hands rest on the wall, chest flush against it as she pushes her ass back against you, the shorts she has on pulled down to her ankles along with her underwear to show that beautiful, beautiful fit ass of hers that are paired with her toned legs that you’re wishing would be wrapped around your head again.

Oh, well. Much important matters at hand right now, such as rubbing your tip against her dripping folds. It gets her wiggling her ass back at you, Sooin’s heated gaze through the mirror telling you to hurry the fuck up and dick her down.

You’re pushing in, warm, wet heat enveloping your every inch and a soft moan escaping her lips. Letting yourself be taken away into the tight vice-lip grip she has on you until you bottom out against her the plush cushion of her ass. 

Allowing yourself to take your time with her, even for just a small moment, you pull back, taking inch by inch of your shaft out of her until the very last possible moment where you could ram back in, and gasps and grunts begin filling the small space.

She grows louder first, the dirty curses and quiet gasps that can no longer be contained make you thrust faster, pound her harder until the sounds of your skin hitting hers begin to join. And even with the danger of getting caught, her eyes continue to plead with you.

More.

Your grip on her waist tightens, and you’re hammering into her without a care in the world. The sounds no longer matter to you, nor do the dangers of someone unlocking that door and finding you both. 

The only thing that’s important to you is to have Sooin leaving this room satisfied and possibly unable to walk, and you’re damn well going to make sure that happens. 

You reach out, a palm moving to cover her mouth as your strokes become faster, angling yourself higher to deep that spot that gets Sooin to fall apart in your arms. And you feel the change happen; her moans become loud whines, arm gripping up to yours in an attempt to hold herself together.

Yet you don’t want that. What you want is for her to become undone and flooding your cock with her juices, so you lean in close. Hot breath tickling her ear as you whisper those wants of yours and making them into reality.

She’s quivering in your grip, her eyes shutting tight as your words start to dirty her already filthy mind. “Fuck–” Her voice comes out muffled in your palm as you continue to spout out for her to cum on your cock, to make her wet the floor with how much she’d be squirting all over you. 

It does a number on you too, when you feel her walls clench around you so fucking tight that every thrust is a battle of your willpower. She spurs you on, driving you forward into this animalistic urge to rut into her cunt until you spill your cum inside her.

And when her eyes snap open, you can see the need clouding them. The shrill scream that comes out of her is barely contained by your hand covering them, and she’s trembling in your arms, tightening up around your cock that the next thrust in sends you straight spiralling into your orgasm.

Each messy thrust you make spills more of your load inside her, her own dripping down her leg as you trap her between yourself and the wall. You’re leaving pecks on her neck as you fuck your cum inside her, taking your palm away from her mouth, her satisfied sighs music to your ears.

“That was–” You take a deep breath, inhaling her scent; the post-sex smell of her skin that’s bundled with the powdery notes of her perfume calming you down. “Fuck.”

“That’s what we did, yeah.” Her hand comes up to scratch the back of your head, massaging your scalp. “Still think that bet was a mistake?”

“I think we’re a little past that, Swim.” You gently remove yourself from her, and white starts to drip down her legs. “What you might want to ask yourself is if you still want to try those clothes.”

“Nah.” She pushes herself off the wall, fingers coming down to take a dollop of your cum. “Did you have to cum so much?” Even with her complaint, she’s taking it into her mouth for a taste. “Now my panties are gonna be ruined.”

You’re tucking yourself back into your trousers back up, shrugging at her. “Wonder who I have to blame for that,” you say, and that incites a chuckle out of Sooin.

“Right, my bad for wanting a quickie,” she replies, pulling her underwear and shorts back up. “I’ll be sure to tell you to cum down my throat next time so we don’t mess up more of my clothes.”

She gently shoves you away, shooing you off the stall first with a playful smirk. “Head back to the mattresses, I know what I want to get.”

“Sooin, we don’t have space for a bed.”

“Yeah, we do. We’ll just throw away our old ones.”

—

Depending on how you look at it, things either got better or worse the longer the week went on.

Nothing productive has happened inside your apartment the moment you two managed to fit a King size bed into your room, and if there was, it wasn’t for long once one of you got hold of the other.

Getting woken up every morning by her wet mouth enveloping your flaccid length, throating you until you blow a load straight down her stomach or being awake enough to pull her up and get her riding you in bed has become a daily occurrence.

Your breakfasts, lunches, and dinners all end up a messy affair, with her getting you to eat her out or you getting her on her knees after eating. Which oftentimes lead to someone getting bent over or fucked on the chair. 

And don’t even get started on when it happens before you two eat. That only gets you even hungrier for food, and even more starved to continue fucking after.

The risque and riskier kinks start happening, when she gets you to plow her right in front of the apartment window, not a care in the world whether anyone sees or not. And you get right back when you get her to suck you off in the apartment stairwell after grabbing dinner outside for once.

“You know that there’s a camera watching us, right?” she asks, not a hint of concern in her face as she follows you to the letter, knees hitting the floor and hands playing with the button of your pants.

“The same camera that we’ve been telling the landlord’s broken?” Your hands pull her hair into a makeshift ponytail. “Yeah, I know.” And you’re fucking her face until you paint her pretty face in streaks of white.

Sooin’s uncaring of it in the end, your cum dripping down her face as you walk back up the steps, onto your floor and into your apartment. The sight has you immensely fucked in the head, and that gets her fucked somewhere in the apartment again.

You two just do it anywhere, everywhere. Not a single place in your apartment is unsullied, a single area in your apartment building untouched. The rooftop, the parking lot, the fucking lobby—you’re not even sure how you managed to get away with that without getting caught.

You’re sure Sooin finds ways to, of course.

The pair of you keep on going and going and going, the days blurring by full of the filthiest sex you’ve ever had in your entire life. Your dick has never felt more thankful while simultaneously begging you to take a fucking break because really, when are you not fucking Sooin nowadays?

It’s second nature at this point. Wake up, fuck, eat, fuck, take a nap, fuck, do some chores, fuck, sleep—it’s a whole process that runs on either one of you telling the other how they want to get laid, where she wants your load, why you’re asking her how foldable she is or the like. 

There aren't even any sort of verbal cues anymore. Simply walk up to the other and do what sort of debauchery in mind, finish and go back to whatever it was you were doing.

That last part might need some work, considering neither of you can successfully do that.

Jerk off to her face while she’s playing another game on her phone and watch the cum splatter all over her cheek, stain her hair, have it drip down her phone and all she’ll get angry about is the last bit because she lost her game, that stress released by having her bouncing on top of you until she cums.

Sooin on the phone with one of her friends (you can’t be sure whether it’s Anna or Gawon) when she spots you walking out of your room one morning, gesturing for you to get between her legs and eat her out. You’re amazed at how composed she sounded all throughout, especially when you turn her legs into jelly at the end and the most she’s ever let out was a scream that she disguised by saying that there was a mosquito in the room.

Fucking her in an alleyway on the way home from having lunch at the local ramen shop, the sun in the air adding the high of getting caught up a notch. Getting her on her knees to swallow your load right before you two would’ve gotten caught by some random passerby.

Her getting back at you with the magical treat of her mouth, sucking you off while you drove home. Almost ended in a disaster if you hadn't pulled over in time, another batch of your cum sent straight into her gullet.

Can't go an hour go by without one of you getting handsy, and it's like an average day for you now. Part of your daily life, constantly having sex with her, being readily available to fuck and get fucked.

And to think you were against this whole thing at the start.

So when the last day comes by and you’ve fucked another load into her while she did the dishes, you’re left asking:

“What happens when we wake up tomorrow?”

Sooin pauses, blinks, shrugs. “Dunno,” she answers all casual-like. “What do you want to happen?”

It’s unfair how she leaves the ball in your court. Like she wants to hear your answer before she commits to hers, pretending to not care when she doesn’t bother to even look at you, her attention on the television playing some movie.

“Well,” you ponder, pursing your lips in thought. “We’re either gonna keep fucking or we go back to not fucking.”

“That’d be a shame.” She points the remote to the TV.

Your head turns toward her. “What would?”

“Not fucking.” The channel swaps. “We should keep it going.”

“What?” It’s the fact that she looks so unbothered that’s making you question how serious she is. You sit up straighter, entire chest tilting toward her now. “You’re serious?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” Her knuckles rest on the side of her head. “We’d probably need to stop with the random quickies when the semester starts, and it’s not like we can’t go back to not fucking with the amount of sex we’ve had the entire week.”

Your jaw hangs low, unsure of what to say. Thanks Sooin, that’s such a good idea. Maybe we should also put a label on us too? Sounds like such an insane thing to pull, and you’ve grown quiet to the point that Sooin takes a glance at you.

“You don’t gotta say anything.” She nudges you with her elbow. “It’s a good thing we got going. Long as you’re good, I’m good.”

“And that makes us, what–” You shake your head. “Fuck buddies?”

She laughs. Says sure, it’s not like she’ll be looking for anyone else when she’s got you. Long as you don’t go looking for no Chaewon’s or Chaeyoung’s or whatever name they got she’ll be a-okay.

And you’re scoffing, smiling and agreeing to the whole thing with a kiss to her cheek; getting her to roll her eyes at you and give you another, harder nudge with her elbow.

“Okay, man,” she chuckles. “The kiss was a bit much.”

“Oh come on–” you let out a laugh. “You can take my cum on your face but you draw the line with a kiss on the cheek?”

“Well, when you put it like that–” Sooin lands her gaze on you, smile playing on her lips, mischief in her eyes. “It does sound a little stupid, doesn’t it?”

She closes the distance between you, pressing her lips against yours for a quick kiss. “Happy?”

“Yeah, Swim.” You tap your finger between your lips. “Maybe one more for good measure?”

A shove. “Don’t push it, asshole.” A beat passes. Her hands fumble around your sweatpants.

“We can do one more round for the road.”

—

When the morn comes around after a late night of getting Sooin to ruin the bedsheets again (you’ve discovered that she’s a squirter when you pound her ass up, face down), you wake up to a Sooin-less bed, and that alone gets you up and about. Spot her eating a sandwich with some strawberry jam filling, fighting to stay awake as she stares at her laptop.

Greet her a good morning and sit down next to her on the couch. “What’s got you up so early?”

“Gotta get my schedule sorted out,” she mumbles, taking another bite of her bread. “Why didn’t you tell me we already could?”

“I did.” You slide down the sofa, getting more comfortable. “Like two days ago.” You’re not about to tell her that you reminded her of it while she was getting fucked on top of the laundry machine, of course.

You know when your life is on the line.

She lets out a groan, complaining about her classes being so early, getting the shitty professors and the shitty schedule and all you can think about are her luscious thighs peeking underneath your shirt she has on.

Reaching out, fingers resting on the soft skin, caressing upwards to feel more; all to be stopped with a slap on the wrist.

“Not now, dude,” she says, her hand coming back to slide a finger across the touchpad. “I really want a decent schedule for next semester.”

You blink. Your brain catching up to what you’re body is doing and you remember:

Right. Bet’s over, no more fucking for the fun of it and all the shenanigans that it entails (shame, you’ll miss it immensely). It’ll be a smooth transition (it won’t, you’re already suffering withdrawals not being balls deep inside her right now) from not having sex all the time.)

“Alright, alright,” you relent, taking a glance at the kitchen counter. “Want some coffee?”

“Please,” she replies, making you groggily stand up to make two cups. She stops you with a glance and your name, making you turn back to her.

“Fuck me when I’m done with this?”

You chuckle, roll your eyes and wave a hand in the air.

Asa lowers her shoulders just a little, but it does so much more than a subtle movement should ever have the power to do. Now isn’t that the understatement that underpins it all. Fine details and mildly-reserved seduction cooked into the drop of a shoulder, the hike of a leg, the tilt of her hips. It’s Asa’s modus operandi, and you’re her favourite victim.

“Not like you ever cook.”

Avoiding the questions. Gaslighting. This woman has a game to play, and you’re part of it. If you were ever unwilling, you would be dragged, kicking and screaming, into it.

You are never unwilling.

"I baked you a cake."

"Yeah, well, I'm a little distracted here."

"What's distracting you?"

"Oh I don't know... Maybe my girlfriend? Up on the counter? Ass in the air and back arched, wearing some little black leather shorts?"

"Just eat the damn cake."

"I'm thinking about it."

"Yeah?" Asa shoots you a sly smile, biting on one of those long black nails in a way that communicates an opening into a mind you're all too familiar with. Devilish looks with a sinful mind - there's always something in there. "Well, I know you're a messy eater; hope you plan on cleaning up once you're finished. There's a lot of cream filling inside."

Yep, that’s something, alright.

She's doing that thing again - tugging on the little invisible string around your heart, forcing it to thump faster. You swallow thickly. You're walking closer, focusing on her lips as she speaks again.

"And, well, it is your birthday..."

Your birthday. You're too distracted by the fact she's pressing her chest to the counter, deepening the arch of her back even further and lying her face against the smooth surface. Her cute cheek squashed against the marble, dark eyelashes fluttering upwards as she looks at you through them. The way she's wiggling her hips slightly, back and forth, in those tight shorts...

"My birthday," you echo her words.

She's sliding her hand over her thigh now, fingertips pressing into the pale skin. She grips, and she squeezes and fuck -

"Mhm," she's smiling, "so you're allowed to have your...cake. Indulge a little. Eat it up."

Those catty eyes are trained on you as she presses her hand further down. You're standing at the counter now, chest heavy and struggling with each breath. A figurative growl from somewhere deep inside you as you catch her wrist, pulling it away from where it's getting dangerously close to her crotch.

"Let me." You tell her, taking in yet another shaky breath. "Let me...enjoy it how I want to."

Her eyes widen with excitement as she pushes her hips back and, fuck, that’s too hot. "That's the spirit, birthday boy. Do what you want."

"You're really the best girlfriend," you begin to tug the shorts from her hips, watching her skin rise with goosebumps as your fingertips brush over her - subtle things. "You know that?"

"Yeah, well." Asa bites her lower lip for a moment before letting it slip free. "I love spoiling you."

You pull the tight fabric over her ass and the soft flesh spills out, plump and fucking perfect.

"Your ass..." You can't help it. You have to grip it. You drag your fingertips across her skin. It's so perfectly smooth and inviting and...

Her throat rumbles with a laugh. "You act like you've never seen it before."

You dive in without thinking, lips immediately pressing to the skin, teeth grazing, tongue sneaking out to get a taste. Her little whimper makes you want more.

"I like it." You tell her against her flesh. You pepper kisses down to her thighs before pulling back. "Every time is like the first time."

"Cringe," she mocks.

"Hey, it's my birthday, remember? You can't be mean to me."

She lifts a brow. You duck your head down again, allowing your teeth to dig into the skin. Her breath hitches. You smile against her, pulling back, watching the way the spot turns a delicate pink colour. You take your time, letting your hands wander her ass, watching the way her flesh reacts. You slide your palm down her thigh, and she rolls her hips, trying to chase the touch.

"Please..." Asa's breathless, her voice filled with want, "just... eat the cake already." Her tone is playful, but there is something about the edge that makes you think she's really trying to hold back. That she wants you more than she's letting on.

"It looks so pretty." Your fingers move, sliding over her bare pussy, just peeking through the gap at the top of her thighs. You prod your fingertips inside, finding her wet already. Of course she is. Then there's the moan.

Asa's moans - you could wax lyrical about them. You could write sonnets and songs and poetry about them. You want to record them sometimes, just so you can listen back whenever you want, but then you remember just how easy it is to elicit new ones. There's always something so playful about them, even when they're low and gravelly. It's like she's laughing a little as she moans, like she's having so much damn fun.

You place a hand on each cheek. Your birthday cake, in all its glory, is laid out on the counter for you. You lean in, dragging your tongue up from her slit and resting your face between those pert little cheeks.

Fuck, she's sweet - sweeter than the cake you're ignoring, and she smells so good. Her whole body just has this way of making you want to bury your face into any part of her that you can and just melt away into her.

You're tasting her sinful little hole, ass pressed back against your face, and her moans are growing louder. You're swirling your tongue against her. Her fingers grip at the edge of the counter, and she's pushing back more and more.

Eating her ass is one of your favourite things in the world. In part because of her reaction, which is always perfect, and partly because of her taste. The way she wriggles and tries to control it and can't help but just give in to the pleasure of it all. You're rock hard already, and your cock is pressing against your pants.

You pull back, taking a moment to grip her cheeks and watch them spread, spitting on her hole, watching the way her body shivers. You press your thumb to it, and it succumbs to the pressure, swallowing it whole.

Her moans are endless, and she's trying to roll her hips, to fuck back against your finger. You work your thumb inside, and she reacts in all those dirty little ways you can never forget. Her whole body is shivering, and it's honestly the hottest thing you've ever seen in your life (and Asa has given you a whole catalogue to choose from).

"Oh my god," her voice is strained, "please, just... My ass... Oh..."

You have to bite back your laugh, simply because you can't help but find her so endearing. Her cheeks are flushed, and you know if you could see her face it would be bright red. Her hair is damp at the temples with sweat. You move your thumb in and out of her slowly.

"Please what, babe?" You ask.

She's burying her face into the marble; it’s a ridiculous thing to try, but this girl is so used to being face down in the bed that muscle memory kicks in when the brain goes to mush. "Don't make me say it."

You use your free hand to smack her ass, just once. She whimpers. "Say it."

"No!" She huffs. There's a moment of silence where you keep fucking her with your thumb. You hear her suck her teeth. Finally, she relents. "Eat my ass and make me cum. Please."

You let out a knowing laugh. "Good girl."

You're not sure what you enjoy more: making her cum or making her beg. You lean in again - another taste. Her back arches beautifully. Your cock is aching. You work your mouth against her over and over.

You press your middle finger against her cunt, sliding it inside with no resistance. She's gripping it as her wetness leaks down your hand. The moans are getting out of control, her body shuddering and jerking. You feel her tighten around your finger.

"Already?" you ask, and she does not like that.

Asa pushes her face up and off the counter, her whole body trembling. "You're just... fucking good."

That makes you grin. You press your finger deeper, curling it in her, and she's practically screeching now, and despite the description, it’s a blessing to hear. You keep your mouth buried against her asshole, fucking her with your finger, picking up speed. Your cock is straining in your pants, your balls aching. You can't wait to slide your dick into her, which is utterly relatable.

"Oh my god," she's panting hard, her fingers straining where she grips the counter, "oh my god, oh my god... Yes, right there, right fucking there! Don't stop, don't stop..."

It's when she starts cumming that you start lapping up all the cream, sucking her into your mouth. Her pussy is pulsing around your finger. You hear her hit the counter with a dull thud, and it's followed by her hitting her open palm against it repeatedly.

"So good," her voice is a breathy whine, "so, so good."

You keep moving your finger inside her until the fluttering stops, her whole body relaxing into the counter. You pull back and look at the mess you've made. A sheen of sweat on her skin. Her cheeks red from the way you've so roughly spread them.

"Happy birthday to me," you say, as you unbutton your pants.

There's a little chuckle from Asa. She turns her head, her eyes slightly glazed. "That good, huh?"

"You have no idea," you take your cock out, sighing with relief, "can't wait to sink into you."

She's smiling. "My favourite part."

"So, what exactly is this?" It's a valid question from Yuri, you weren't entirely transparent about your intentions. Yena said she was prototyping her guitar, that it was 'electrifying' and 'mindblowingly orgasmic'

So Yuri, fairly or unfairly assumed that was about music.

Technically, she's not wrong.

However, in practice. Yena is synced up to a device that can only be described as a bondage lover's wet dream. Wire's everywhere, some coiled to her thighs, some dangling off her chest. A lot pooling to almost make a tailor-made dress.

"It's one of our new inventions." Yena remarks casually, like there's not a dildo that can self-thrust next to both her pussy and her tight ass. Like there's no vibrating clamps that gently hug her nipples. You have the guitar in your hands, though you'll definitely pass it to Yuri in a little while. Need an unbiased tester, make sure it works fine.

"Last time you told me about your inventions you were making fuel-powered bouncy balls. What even happened?"

"We wanted to pay bills, this is our latest idea." You interject. "It works about as simply as you can expect. Each of these four buttons resonate with another. You play any song you know and see how the woman reacts."

"Show her practically, come on." Yena sighs, you are down. You click the first button, the clamp on her left nipple starts to vibrate, squeeze slightly– gets a short gasp out of Yena. Same for the second just for the right side.

The third one is more interesting, you only do short presses first– make sure to not overwhelm. The toy pushes deeper into her pussy, sits inside until you make it move. This is designed to be easy to use, hard to master. Replayability that can get even the most diehard of rhythm players to get invested.

It's a very specific niche your targeting, rhythm players good enough to do well that also have a partner. Eh, it'll reflect in the mark up.

"Come around." You point, Yuri follows and looks at Yena from behind. You click the last button and it pushes deep inside Yena's asshole, you push it a bit further. Then she stands there filled to the brim.

"Right, I still don't know why you needed me to be here? Me and Yena are close, don't get me wrong. But this is–"

"Oh shut up, before I met him you had your tongue in me every other night. We are definitely that close." Yena cuts through Yuri's lies, she's red as a tomato and doesn't say anything more.

"We need an unbiased participant who doesn't know it inside and out, you are that person." It's a simple exchange, you'll buy her a nice meal for this.

"Okay, sure, fine. Show me it." You've already started, but there's a few other cool features you can't wait to show in more detail. Then, your television screen turns on. (thanks to a hidden button in the frame, otherwise it'd ruin the IMMERSION!)

"We've made it so this guitar can work on all forms of rhythm software. We'll use Fortnite Festival for this because we have it installed." You swap to a song, you need to pick one that's not too hard, not too easy. A perfect highlight, you pick a 7/7 on bass. Should be easy enough.

Here goes nothing.

The music starts to play, though what song is hardly relevant. What matters is Yena braces herself for the first set of notes, though no matter how hard she braces. It still catches her off guard, hitting all four notes at once. Multiple times, the two dildos fucking her holes as her nipples get tormented.

"Ah, fuck!" Yena's caught caught in pleasure, Yuri's blushing. Her friend's got 14 inches (divided by two obviously) inside her and they are drilling her while the person causing it is just strumming a few cords. That's normally a metaphor, but these two inventors be doing stuff differently apparently.

"As you can see, it's quite intense." You lull, hitting your keys to the beat of the music. You can hear the slick noises of her pussy getting thoroughly fucked cutting through the rest of the noise.

"Y-yeah, I–" Yuri is rubbing her legs together, looking up towards the sky as if focusing on Yena is going to make her lose her mind. Her body's sweating under pressure, hands gripping her thighs to avoid them going anywhere else. "It's something."

"Ngh, fuck! Yuri, touch yourself for me– please!" That came out of nowhere, the machine must be have sparkled something. "I don't care he's watching, come on! Please–"

"What?!"

"You don't have to–" You start, your voice trails off because a particularly hard section comes up. Forcing your entire attention, it reflects in Yena's moans. Hits a crescendo that lasts for a solid half-minute.

"Ignore him, do it, let me see your pretty pussy again! It's been so–long!"

Yuri's between a rock and soft place, this wasn't in your initial testing plans but errant data should probably be considered. In the event they got a three player rotation, someone touching themselves is standard, expected.

You just never designed this for three people.

Fool's mistake and in this case, you're the fool. Yena's on cloud fuck knows and therefore doesn't have time to worry about all that. But back to Yuri's ultimatum, surely with the way she shouted what she'd be thinking about it still ri–

Oh, she's wearing less clothes than before.

Hm, oh well.

The problem with your technology you are realising now is you can not focus on your test-partner being so overwhelmingly aroused that her arousal is being launched into the floor. Nor can you focus on her situationship best friend heeding her commands. Hastefully kicking herself out of her shorts and underwear simply and efficiently. Put blandly, your peripherals are doing quadruple overtime.

A few more seconds, the song will be over. But this is the most ridiculous section for Yena, a bunch of hold notes. When the buttons are held the machines work at peak efficiency, fucking the soul out of her. "Oh my, my, fuck– yes, fuck!" Her orgasm hits right at the finish of song, and it's explosive. Spurts of squirt painting a new pattern in your favourite towel.

You play an imaginary song, fuck her insane ass (You'd know, it hugs you like the warmest kindling of affection.) with chords to ride her through it. Then perhaps the most annoying thing happens.

Your frame snaps, the thing keeping Yena from falling over ages ago breaks in two and unsurprisingly she slips. Right between Yuri's legs, face first into her box tongue first. Yuri is quite to take advantage of such a perfectly shown moment of chance, grinds her slit against Yena's pretty face. She quickly sticks her tongue out, devouring her friend while you stand there and savour such a moment.

"Yena! Eating me out so, god, damn well!" The machine is still mostly plugged into Yena, so you do Yuri a favour. Pushing a few buttons that make the girl moan straight into her– resonating within her core. "Don't stop!"

Muffled moans fill the room as you continue to pleasure Yena, pumping the machine's dildo in and out much slower now. Just a consistent rhythm enough to mess with her brain, overwhelming without shutting her down. You need the data. Whatever is salvageable out of this. You stand there bricked up like a virgins first time seeing tits, rubbing yourself through your clothes.

Yuri's moans are ridiculous, hits the walls and bounces back twice as fucking loud. Then you think, you need more data… someone who hasn't been responsible in the design process. "Yuri, say– would you like a turn?"

She looks shocked, but Yena pulls herself away to breathe. "Yeah, you trust my creation right?" No, she definitely didn't. It snapped in front of you. "I'll hold you up."

"Okay, I trust you, for once." Yuri's words brought you two great joy, helping Yena out of the machine and slowly putting Yuri in. Lubing up her tight rim, giving it a finger while Yena gave it two. Working together to make sure she could handle this, proper procedure. (proper bla bla you get the idea by now surely.)

Couple minutes later and it's all set up, Yena holding Yuri up by the armpits to ensure she doesn't replicate her fall over incident. "Ready?"

"I guess?" Yuri is not nearly as assured as Yena was, after seeing the mess that was just made and getting herself ate out though she is far too horny to think logically about this. You pick a song that honestly you just like, Fantasia For The Witch's Hound.

"Don't let her go, I don't know how concussions and orgasms mix." You warn, however Yena is gripping onto her harder than she grips around you so it'll be all gucci. " Here goes nothing.

You start, and this song is absolutely nothing compared to the last one– difficulty erect and ready to go right off the get go. Triple click every note in rapid motion, she's already had her warm up. Shaking and struggling in Yena's grasp, who is doing her divine duty as best she can. Going above and beyond as well– kissing Yuri's neck like it's a fine treasure, letting her teeth scratch against the soft skin.

"Ngh, Yena! This is so over–" It's hard to articulate the beauty of the situation, maybe you've struck gold with this. Market it as a swinger's party device, make millions. While your salivating over potential profit (pp for short) Yuri is salivating at the pressure, crotches stained with both of their arousal intermingled as one slick layer.

"Overkill? Overwhelming? Overtastic?" Yena breaks the rules further, rubbing her clit feverishly, giving Yuri the time of her life. "Take my cocks, fucking you– like old times sake. Cum all around them!" You are the voyeur to time long past and only now you get an idea.

What if you just, stood to the left? So they are directly in your line of sight? Incredible.

"Okay!" Yuri takes Yena like the good girl she clearly is. "So, fucking full!" You stop playing the song, hold down every button to overwhelm the girl. She loses control, taking no time at all to reach orgasm. Gushing so hard it saturates your machine in shiny girlcum.

Yuri gets gently removed from the contraption, you'll clean it later. The second you put the guitar down Yena has a lustful gaze, eyes looking very hungry. "You haven't came."

"Well yeah, the prototype isn’t suited for penises currently–"

From the bedroom, the girl, Eunchae, storms out, head in hands, her steps quick but aimless. On closer inspection, her simple oversized tee is the same shade of purity that’s plastered all over the walls, her hair in a smooth, wavy curtain like she just got it done. 

Behind her, you trail, near lazy, like you’re used to the words, simple black joggers and simple black shirt, clean as the rest of her, as the rest of the house.

“Get the fuck back here.”

“Fuck you!”

“Hey!”

Bang.

“It’s always this shit with you! All the time. It never fucking ends, never fixes itself like it’s supposed to-”

“And you think that this is all on me?”

“Some part of it is you, at least admit that, you fucking prick.”

Bang. Bang.

“I’m sick of your shit, Eunchae.” 

“Yeah? Are you? You’re going to fuck off now, are you? Call it quits for real?”

You click your tongue. You try to steady your breathing. Stay calm. Stay calm. Her words are blunt. Blunt and rude, blunt because they aren’t sharp. That’s what you’ve been reminding yourself every day, right? 

“Let’s stop dodging the issue here.”

Eunchae spins to face you, her face frosty, her cheeks flushed. She looks almost drunk.

“And again with that. Don’t you feel repetitive, always flipping things back on me with that shit? What are you, a robot? Recorder? Metronome?” 

“Stop trying to get a rise out of me! This is pointless!” 

“Is it? Everything that doesn’t help you get your way is pointless? We’re only allowed to follow the plot you’ve made for us, is that it?” 

“No!” You say, finding this whole thing ridiculous, “The fuck? All you have to do is listen to reason! Where is this taking us? Back to the same old shit we’ve always been doing.”

Eunchae’s mouth opens like she’s choking back a laugh, struggling from spitting it right into your face. 

“News flash, dipshit,” Eunchae shakes, “everything we’re doing right now is a repeat. Like a stupid fucking sitcom. And you’re the fucking star, assface!”

You roar. “Don’t yell at me!”

The house echoes your ferocity- literally. When the two of you were shallower, in earlier days, she’d take an unconscious step back, an instinct upon your voice reaching this decibel. But now? Her hide’s grown thicker, which means all she does is raise an eyebrow in that particularly annoying way, the one that gets under your skin. Her lips flat. She looks like she’s about to kick you in the balls. And fuck it, the ethics. You wanna throw hands. 

You swear, the amount of effort required to prevent you from going full on ballistic has popped several veins in your skull. You know how it looks, played this little finicky game before, with the bloody mirror in view as well. 

You redden, purple up, and it takes a hot second before the natural complexion of your face returns. And, pathetically, it’s only then you note your balled fists. You hate it. You don’t like this look, a sentiment shared by your partner. Anger doesn’t get you anywhere.

You drop your tone. Drop everything. She’s just another person. She can’t touch you. All she’s saying are meaningless words. You’re better than this. Than her.

Your next words are sanitised, hands slipped back in your pockets like you don’t give a damn. “We need to start talking like normal human beings.”

Eunchae’s tone follows yours, no longer shrill screech. “And how’s that been working for you? Do the results look satisfactory?”

Her eyes cast to the room around you, like she’s coaxing you to take a look at everything yourself.

Hell, she makes things so difficult.

“We at least get somewhere when we aren’t screaming bloody murder.”

Her reply is scathingly quick. Like repeats turned ad hominem.

“There’s no need to stabilise your driving when you’re on a roundabout with no exit,” Eunchae bites. “Like you always like to say, pointless.”

You snap. “God, fuck. Eunchae, please. For fucks sake! Fucking please!”

Lord knows you’re fucking trying, hands in your hair, wincing and all. Eunchae turns her head to the side, like she’s ignoring you. The truth is, she doesn’t want to let it get to her. You power on, because there’s gotta be goddamn light at the end of this goddamn tunnel.

“We need to settle this issue. And we do that with talking. Not with this… infighting.”

“We need to settle this issue… again.”

You take a breath. “Yes. Again.”

Eunchae levels her eyes on yours. Her arms are crossed, not because she’s angry, but because it’s protective. Protective of all the skin of her arms she has pinched between fingers. “Fine. I’ll make my argument simple. There is no solving this. We’re just wasting our breath.”

“So we should just let this fucking horseshit continue?”

This time Eunchae makes a sound of annoyance. She shifts her weight to her other foot.

“Why do you like that word so much, anyway?”

“Huh?” You furrow your brow, “What? The word ‘fuck’? It’s just a word.”

“Just a word. That’s all that’s ever meant to you, hasn’t it? Just a word. And anyone that doesn’t subscribe to that notion is stupid trash.”

You have no idea what she’s getting at. You’ve been using that word since forever. She uses that word. But you don’t snort. You resist the urge to make any sound that suggests belittlement, any words to betray how it’s raining down upon you. Control. Control.

“Fine. I won’t use that word. Remove the profanity. Whatever. Happy?”

“Really?” Eunchae replies, “What a surprise. Should I be honoured?”

“What is your problem?” Everything that comes out of her mouth seems poised to spite you. Unnecessarily so.

“My problem, dipshit, is your stupid need to level everything to your playing field. It’s absurd. Injust. You’re in control, always.”

“Always? I’m puppeteering your life, am I?”

“You may as well be,” Eunchae says matter-of-factly, “We play by your rules, don’t we? We stop the yelling, talk things out, communicate like we’re in a debate club. Somewhere where you can use your stupid, verbose bullshit to outweasel yourself from being in the wrong.”

You stare. “Are you serious? You think conversing like normal human beings, respectfully and peacefully, is a shit way to resolve our arguments? Even when we descend into playground insults and verbal fuc… warfare? Is this not a logical solution?”

“So nothing else matters, does it? Just the right way to do things? The cold hard facts?”

What is she talking about? “What are you talking about?”

Eunchae scoffs, not even bothering to hide it. The pad of her thumb rubs at her eyes, and it stings, but you’ve gotten used to it. Because this happens every time. And you’re not sure when this bled into normalcy.

“Forget it.”

“What?”

She doesn’t reply. Her lower lip shakes. Your hands are in the space, grasping for something, whole body shaking and shuddering with all the effort you’re putting in to just reach.

“Eunchae, talk to me. What’s all this? What are you on about? We can’t even communicate right now.”

“Of course we can’t!” Eunchae screams, and you can’t even fake your surprise, eyes widening, caught in a moment where nothing makes any logical sense-

“You’re not listening! You never do!”

“Huh?” You say, flabbergasted. Preposterous. You’ve done nothing but try to listen.

“I don’t care anymore. Get the fuck out of my house.”

“Your house?” Your voice rises. Shit. Tone it down. “We bought this place together. Even split. Fifty-fifty.”

Your resist the urge to add, the fuck you mean your house?

“Then draw a line! I’ll stay behind my fifty percent. Just leave me the fuck alone!”

“Eunchae,” you slap a hand to your forehead, “You’re going to run from this? Again?”

“I don’t care! You win! I give up, give in. Whatever you’re going to say, you’re right!”

“Eunchae!” You shout. Fuck it. You need to get her to listen somehow. She’s not receptive to anything right now. You’ll apologise later.

Probably.

“Work with me here! I’m trying my best to talk to you. We can’t keep running away from our problems. They don’t just magically disappear.”

“Don’t they?” Eunchae retorts. She’s forsaken the urge to rub her tears away, to give a crap about the trails down her face and falling off her chin. “Isn’t that how it always goes? We talk, we agree on something. You dictate what I say. Sure. Happy for a couple of days. Otherwise, we take a break. A week where we start over from zero. We kiss, have awesome make up sex, and everything’s forgotten, isn’t it? Pause, incident, pause?”

You don’t retort. You can’t. It’s true, regardless of how wrong it is. That’s how it is. That’s how it always has been. Putting it brutally, the two of you discard each other when shit hits the fan. The attraction is fleeting. Intermittent. Hell. Like… disease.

It takes a moment for you to realise Eunchae’s already stalked away, moving past you. She defeats you, in that moment. You’re still staring at the same spot, because you’re not sure you believe what’s happening right now.

“So we’re just going to let this go?”

“Just tell me what you want from me and I’ll do it,” Eunchae mutters, her voice soft, lost.

This isn’t victory. Not for you, not really. This is a resignation. There was no fight here. There’s no cause for celebration. All Eunchae did was just roll onto her back and tell you to get on with it.

You walk out. Grab the keys, slip into slippers. Anywhere. Anywhere but here. Clear your head, get some space, whatever. You have no idea what to do. Whether to move forward, or to hang back.

Eunchae sits by the dining table, motionless. She’s another piece of the furniture. Pure, clean. Whatever to distract from what this all is. Does it make sense? Pfft, no. Of course not. Does it hurt?

Eunchae hangs her head in her hands and cries.

____

In another instance, maybe, just maybe, things play out differently.

If the rules of the world weren’t written this way. If everyone said, hey, okay, do your thing. It’s your little corner of the world, I won’t intrude. A world free from judgement maybe. Maybe.

It’s like this, see. You try to play things properly, really. You put all the extra little thoughts in. Maybe too many at times. You act, no, play, no, am the perfect boyfriend, to the best of your abilities. On judgement day, you should at the very minimum be tilted to the correct side, wholly because of your own actions.

Things are happy at the beginning, romantic. You wipe the ice cream off her lips. She giggles. The Han river. Noodles and fried chicken. Spicy bokkeumbap. Yeah, things like that.

For a good while, a very good while, you’re happy. Content. She’s support in your fragile little world, and things are great. The two of you push deeper, wading into the marsh, not looking back. Hell, not even looking forward. Looking at each other.

And that’s the moment. Right there. Pause the video. Zoom in. Right fucking there. Take out your notebook.

See, at first you think it’s a joke. Horror stories concocted by your mother told to her friends whenever they come over for dinner and girls’ night. About how cohabitation is a test. A real make or break. About how getting closer means getting further apart. And other nonsensical horseshit.

Taking a step forward, but forward’s the wrong direction. Like bringing this person in means the end for everything else. And look, you’re smarter than this. Smart enough to know not to fuck this up. And to know how not to either.

But the house is a warzone. One that deceives you at first. You enter, weapons lowered, taking in the scenery. Oh, those are some nice flowers. Put them by the side. Look at the paths! They sparkle.

And then you realise the whole fucking place is laced with land mines. Kablooey.

And hell, why do things keep escalating? You’re not on an escalator, you’re not playing a roguelike videogame. What’s this, Tetris? Putting the blocks and pieces into place speedily without fucking up the arrangement?

The first time was bad, sure. Eunchae’s tired of always having to bring your clothes to the laundry room, always having to make the bed in the morning. She just wants things to be neater, nicer.

So you explain how it seems ridiculous to you that she believes a laundry trip is mandatory once a day, considering that two people times two outfits is at most fourteen articles of clothing, a day. Which doesn’t even fill up the machine you bought halfway.

She calls it unhygienic. You call it uneconomical. 

It gets heated. Stupidly so. It’s the first time you find yourself genuinely angry with her, and you don’t know why. She cries, and it’s the first time that she’s ever done that in front of you. So you panic. 

Fine, you give in. Compromise. You’ll even dump the clothes in the washer for her. 

That pisses her off. Because she doesn’t want to just win. It’s never been about the victory in battle for either of you. It’s about the war. She needs to make you understand. And agree that she’s right.

But it doesn’t make sense.

Over time, things change. It’s less emotional turmoil and more brokering, a painful game of sorts. But instead of decapitated heads rolling it’s simply layers unraveling in front of you like unbundled canvas. And the picture it paints, not pretty.

You make deals. Bargain your way to allow you to drag her to your side. Barter trade.

Bring your weapons to the table: Cold hard logic against metaphysical morality. Raise them up and fight.

And after, the two of you have peace. Come back together. Like Frankenstein; your bodies meld. Heat, passion, till your eyes roll back into your skulls. It feels better that way, raw and unprotected, vulnerable after so many hits.

Then your hearts. Stitched together. Smiles. What were we even arguing about? It feels so stupid now. Love blooms, because love is like most flowers. Seasonal.

And the two of you let the festering problem reach further, hold tighter.

——

Your feet are light on the pavement. Coffee. Need coffee. Starbucks will do. A roadside coffee shop will do. Anything will do.

Clangle. Past the Christmas decoration, past the little lights.

The barista is sweet, serene, adorned with an elf hat. She’s pleasant, taking your order with a gentle smile and a clear lack of care for anything in her immediate surroundings.

So coffee takes a while. And she kind of puts too much sugar in it. But whatever. That won’t be enough to ruin your day.

Sweet is the season. Your right hand, clasped around the bag, the bag containing the artificial softness you didn’t really bother to wrap up. Whatever. She’s going to love it.

You shift in your brown wool jacket. No time to waste. 

She’s already got everything set up, of course. The treats, the tree, the candles. She’s got a Santa hat on, a Santa-red dress. Her face lights up when you toss your bag over like you’re going to bludgeon her and bash her head into a pulp.

“Hey babe!” She laughs, hands sinking into the softness of the puffy toy through its protective plastic layer.

“Eun-ah, you’ve done so much. It looks so good!”

You reach over to try to kiss her, but the sheer size of the soft toy provides some resistance. The two of you laugh, but meet anyway, your mouth over hers, dominating the kiss.

“Cute dress,” you smirk.

“Thank you,” Eunchae gives a little bow, swaying from side to side.

“Can’t wait to peel it off.”

“Pervert!”

You laugh. 

“At least let me have dinner first! There’s always only one thing you want on your menu, isn’t there?”

“It’s the only food I need,” you reply, twirling your finger in the air like you’re summoning a spell. “I’m a repeat customer.”

“Well, you’re going to have to wait. Until after we get some actual food in both of our bellies.”

“Ever heard of the term, start with dessert?” You toss the pondering question over. Eunchae hits you with her Christmas gift.

“I told you. Wait. I have more in store for you. You haven’t even gotten to the best part yet!”

—-

Coffee. Coffee. How it clears the mind. Rids the fog, some would say.

You sip slowly. The drink has long gone cold by now, but you’ve been nursing it. Resisting. Taking as long as you possibly can.

Through the glass panel of the kitchen, where you can watch Eunchae. Watch as she moves quickly, rapidly. Ruthlessly efficient are her hands. She does her work. Fingers a blur. She does the laundry. Quick are her steps. Routine. Routine.

Your eyes watch her. Unmoving. A provocation. Seeing when she reacts. Your mind? Cycling a million possible retorts to cook her like a well done steak the moment she opens her mouth.

“Stop looking at me,” she says, obvious with her anger.

“You want me to leave?” You reply, as if one long walk wasn’t enough.

“Do whatever you like. But give me some privacy. Stop looking at me like I owe you rent. It’s unnerving.”

You take another sip. Mug’s empty. “What is?”

“You looking at me. I don’t like it. The more you look at me the closer you get. The more I have to deal with your bullshit. Go away.”

She stacks another one of her shirts on top of the pile, before grabbing the entire folded tower and hurrying off to the bedroom. Like she has anything else to do.

You wash the mug. Place it back on the drying rack the way you know she likes. Your cup kissing hers. You follow.

“So we’re really going to do this?” You say softly. All traces of irritation, anger are gone, replaced by a droning monotone disconnected from emotional appeal. She won’t get to you now, because you won’t allow it.

Eunchae ignores you. The clothes go back into the drawers. Neatly, neatly. Scented with detergent you both agreed to use to clean. Like a promise to blend.

“We’re just going to avoid this, again. For another week. Maybe two. Then we’ll remember to start talking.”

She just packs.

“You don’t give a shit about us.”

“And you’re saying you do?” Eunchae looks up at you defiantly from her kneeling position. She opens the next drawer, turning back not even a second later.

“Clearly, I do. I’m the only one actively trying to solve the issue here.”

“There’s no issue between us.”

“There is an issue.” you say pointedly. 

“No there isn’t. Not one either of us can solve, evidently.”

“Do you want things to improve?”

“In this snail race?”

“Eunchae.”

“What? Go do your thing. Your little distancing routine. Go out. Have a drink. Chat with your buddies. Pretend to check out that chick at the bar. And come back in a couple weeks when you want to fuck me again.”

You sigh. You’re not even irked at that. It’s all so… desensitised. You’re tired. “We have to at least try, babe.”

Eunchae tenses unnaturally. Was it the word? Or everything else? She stands up, making a means to move, but you’re in the doorway.

“Excuse me.”

You don’t budge.

“Excuse me, please.”

“Don’t run away from this.”

“It’s not about how fast I can fucking get away from you, mister. It’s about how quickly you’ll catch me.”

She’s moved up right into your personal space, fearless in a certain sense, but her eyes don’t meet yours. You’re a barrier, and nothing else. Her eyes are motioning to move past. And you feel it’s all grossly unfair.

Is there anything to say that could change the current predicament? Any way to reason yourself out of this one? One that anyone could understand?

Finally, after a few moments, when Eunchae realises you’ve gone still, she looks up. She’s not daunted by the proximity, not affected by the look in your eyes. 

Her eyes, still red like they’ve been rubbed raw. Her lips are slightly swollen, like you’ve been kissing her too much. She looks so much like something that needs protection. And you’re not impervious like you’ve been telling the world. Everything begs you to hold on.

“What, you want to fuck me already?”

You blink. “I thought you didn’t like that word?”

“Yeah, but you love it, don’t you? You love that word, and all the things that come with it. It’s all you want to do, all you want to hear, right? Fuck me. Fuck me. Fuck me!”

“Eunchae!” You say, scandalised. Like you’re scandalised.

“Isn’t that all you want? My body? That’s what keeps you running back, right? You only give a fuck about my body.”

You pop. Zero to a hundred. It’s not true. It’s a blatant lie. It’s everything to rouse you. And what she insinuates, you detest it.

“Yeah, you’re right,” you spit, “I do.”

You repeat the lie, because a part of you knows she hates this just as much as you do, all these naysayers with their opinions on what the two of you can be, will be, should be. Your hand seizes her wrist, bringing the two of you closer like you’re about to kiss her I love you.

“You’re right, Eunchae. That’s all I give a shit about. You. Your body. That’s what you want to hear me say, right? That you’re just a warm body I can use by my bed, a convenient way for me to drain my balls.”

Eunchae’s eyes darken. Magic, the way they manage to switch up like this. Like she wants to eviscerate you with a trebuchet. 

“Fuck you.”

You let her pass, because you can’t stand to look any longer. You shouldn’t let her go, but you feel like screaming at the walls.

You’re wrong. You mean so much more to me.

But they’ll never see that.

——

“Hey, what do you think is wrong with us?”

You glance over at Eunchae from your seat at the glass table. Her figure’s sprawled out on the couch, her head cast skyward like she’s stargazing through the ceiling.

“Wrong with us?”

If she nods, it’s imperceptible. But you heard right.

You turn to your hands, on the table, fingers outstretched and flat on the cool glass, back when they didn’t yet learn to curl into fists. The house smells like human petrichor, mixed in with that suffocating smell of sanitizer, of appearances.

“I think it’s about what’s wrong with me, isn’t it?”

Eunchae frowns. “No. I’m a part of it too. It takes two hands to clap.”

“Does it really though?” You reply, “Besides. I have two on my own.”

Eunchae glances down to look at you. From this angle, with her feet facing you and her body resting comfortably, she looks cute. Her chubby cheeks on her small face. A squishy look.

“A part of it is me. At the very least. We’re both guilty here. That’s why we keep crawling back to each other, unable to call it quits.”

“I mean, hasn’t this gone on for long enough? Why are we still torturing ourselves like this, like a pair of obnoxious siblings stuck under the same roof? Why can’t we just call it quits?”

“...I don’t know,” you say finally. And even if you did have the right answer, the one that solves all of this, would it matter? 

Fundamentally you know, there’s something wrong with all of this. There’s these things called rules, or whatever, lines drawn in the sand you’re supposed to abide by. Wards, fences, walls, signs all pointing in the opposite direction. Don’t do that. Don’t follow your heart. Not to her, young and pliable.

You slowly pick yourself up from the chair, and Eunchae watches closely as you cross over. She doesn’t say a word, doesn’t move a muscle. Her eyes just hold on to you, tracking your movements till you’re kneeled, on one knee, by her head.

Quiet. A moment for the two of you. Just the two of you. You watch her, and she watches you. Her gaze is pensive, pliant, waiting for your next move. 

You reach over to give her a kiss on the lips. One that you give all the time, but the kind she never gets tired of. When you pull away from her delicate softness, the hints of a smile grace her cheeks. You rub her head for a couple gentle moments. Hopeful ones.

And then you get up and start moving again, Eunchae watching you gently as you start busying yourself with life.

—

Eunchae never throws anything, in all her rage. Then again, neither do you.

In fact, the house is often so spotless, so incredibly untarnished, that simply by appearances the two of you seem to be living a perfect life. 

—

One more check. A whiff of your collar, a straightening of your cuffs. Things have still been in an uncomfortable flux, but just because the two of you currently hate each other doesn’t mean you’re going to miss out on important obligations. The tickets to her rehearsal are still there. You’re not going to just not go.

A quick glance in the mirror, which reveals that you look tired, tired from fighting and leaving and being hollow, from avoiding.

Combat between two urges, one that declares that things should be over, and the other that yields to the idea that you need her back by your side, that you miss her warmth.

Fight it out.

Eunchae took the car; You grab an umbrella just in case and start to make your way over, in your navy suit and brown oxfords. You look good, a guy that’s clearly out for a date, some attractive looking event, and you cycle through the million things you’re about to say.

And you think to yourself, the funny thing is this. Adjacent to Murphy’s law, nothing that anyone thinks will actually happen does happen. There’s always that additional layer, that extra hurdle life throws on the track that catches one off guard, that derails, that can’t be prepared for even with a million years of careful consideration.

So you choose to eliminate as many bad options as possible by trying to think of them first. Get rid of all the worst ways this night could go. Scrap the breakup story. Scrap the messed up performance. Scrap the why did you come? I didn’t want to see you here.

And ironically, try not to think of all the good endings. 

Her dress is red, for some reason. Like a Chinese ornament, or something. Hair done up, in a singular, smooth ponytail, a plume that rests gently behind her. And the thing is, she knows your seat, she gave you the damn tickets after all, so she knows immediately once the stage lights cast down on her that you’re here.

Her back straightens. She almost smiles. Almost. A quick bow and she turns to the keys, sitting with her feet tucked together.

She looks good. Nothing like the clipped seraphim she was every day of the past week. Her makeup conceals it all, brings out her eyes, always bright, spotlights in the dark.

She tests the keys, the same little pattern you’ve heard time and time again, at home, at her practices, at her performances. You close your eyes for a moment. You always prepare yourself mentally before her performances. She has her routine. And you have yours.

One. Two. Three.

Eunchae starts to play. The tune wafts in, gentle, romantic. She strikes each key with certainty, precision.

She eats it up right from the start. Her fingers, soft and slow at first, pressing gently when she knows the audience is focusing more on her than the tune. When the music overwhelms, when they start to give in to the message, they speed up, become a blur, tapping notes in succession.

The pieces she chose are good. They always are. And her skill goes without saying. The first song. A short break. A violinist comes on stage. And Eunchae accompanies his second piece.

Her eyes are mirthful. She doesn’t focus too hard on the notes, on the music sheet in front of her. Her fingers already have the song memorised. Her smile mirrors her playing, like she just forgets all about it and seeps into her notes. There’s not a tinge of sadness in her notes, like it never existed at all.

She doesn’t need to glance at you. She just needs to feel.

She gets one more piece. Brisk are her movements. A few people by your side, in the front row, take pictures.

You don’t know if you can live without her.

She comes down five minutes later than everyone else. And you’re not sure who needed to mentally prepare themselves more.

You stand in the first row, watching as all the other performers greet friends and family. All till a swish of red distracts you.

She walks purposefully, smiling and thanking as eyes fall on her. Her pace never falters. Swiftly, she reaches you. By your side.

Come on. You can’t even look slightly pissed if you tried. You smile, and she does as well, her chin dipping shyly.

“You-”

“Yeah. I came.”

Eunchae beams, her pearly whites showing for the first time in two weeks, and she turns away and does a little spin. The crowd parts naturally to give her room.

“How was it?”

“The performances? Great. The band was amazing.”

“But I was better?” Eunchae shifts her weight to her left foot, crossing her arms.

“You’d better be. Otherwise I’d be dating someone else right now.”

“Prick,” Eunchae shakes her head, “can’t you be nice and stop teasing for once?”

You chuckle. “You were amazing, babe. Gorgeous. As you always are. Everyone was transfixed.”

She glows. Everything feels better. No need for anymore words. The two of you communicate just like this. Her eyes glisten.

“Hey, none of that. You still need to receive all the praise and appreciation.”

Eunchae nods since she understands. She blinks a couple times, and they disappear. Later.

“I’m hungry. I’ll see you in a few minutes?”

“Go,” you nod. “I’ll wait for you in the car.”

Eunchae nods, the little angel, turning and leaving like a flare shot away from a flare gun, leaving your life. Others watch her go, then watch you, watching her leave.

You get it. And damn. There’s so much more.

In the car, you’re a shaking wreck. Everything feels wrong. Everything feels foolish.

And that’s even before Eunchae knocks on the windscreen, telling you to let her in. The lock clicks, and she surges in, grabbing a hold of your neck and kissing you hard. 

Her lips meld to yours, mixing cherry lipstick with strawberry lips.

Your hands seized her shoulders, and each subsequent kiss deepens. It feels right, it feels good. Like she left, but dammit, she came back.

“Close the door,” you say between kisses, “the aircon is leaking out.”

She laughs, eyes wet, but does so anyway. She tucks herself neatly into the seat. And contact is broken. Just for a moment.

Because you’re pulling her in right after, again. And it’s a good while before the headlights of your car come on.

“I’m sorry,” Eunchae says first, the two of you on the highway. No, you don’t miss the details. Her hand clasped in yours. The other one fiddling with the hem of her dress, nervous like she’s been hurled back to her past, to your first date. The way she looks to the front because it hurts to look at you.

“We’re so stupid.”

“We’re not. Just… difficult.”

She laughs again. Weakly. Like she’s tired of it. Both of you are.

Your hand leaves hers for just a moment, so you can make a safe right turn onto the highway. And it comes back to rest on her thigh.

Her eyebrow perks up curiously, and you nonchalantly give her thin leg a squeeze. She shakes her head. She doesn’t even need to say it. 

“I’m just telling you, this dress is a bitch and a half to take off. It’ll take like, ten minutes. And a lot more space than the interior of a car.”

You do your best to look disappointed, like that’s really the first thing on your mind. “Later then. What do you want to eat?”

And it’s strange, because food feels almost secondary. And it feels like it’s because nothing makes sense. 

——

And look. The makeup sex is amazing.

Every time the two of you come back, it’s a couple days where the two of you can’t do anything else but tangle up in a mess of limbs and kisses.

It’s so good that in a messed up way it seems almost worth it to keep breaking apart, because returning feels consistent, probable.

The two of you stumble like drunken sailors all over the house, pulling and pushing each other around, gasping, moaning, groaning with round after round of mind boggling pleasure. That’s the only time things appear even a little messy. Her. You. Madness. Psychosis.

She becomes pliable, pudding, doing whatever you want and whatever you ask, loving it, making it feel like everything’s right with kisses down your cheek. A private moment for two, right?

“Let’s go out,” she says.

“When?”

—

“Get away from me!”

“No!” Eunchae screams. “You started this!”

You snort. “I started this? Me? When you literally just barged into the bedroom and screamed your head off?”

“You let it happen again! How did you let it happen again? What’s the point of saying things have changed, will change, if the same mistakes are going to happen again?”

“Things have been improving! I’ve been doing what you asked! Picking up the laundry. Cleaning the toilet. Waiting outside the office for an entire additional hour to pick you up! It’s been two months without incident. This was just a mistake. I was busy. It slipped my mind!”

“Of course! You were so busy you couldn’t remember to not let our house catch on fire? How do you nearly fuck up boiling water?”

“Just get one of those automatic ones that turn off by themselves! My boss dialed me with something important!”

“Made out of moneybags, are we?”

“Oh come on. It’s the simplest solution.”

“Well then, excuse me if I prefer using an item that’s not even spoiled rather than investing in a minor upgrade.”

“Then that’s your problem, isn’t it?”

“My problem? Yeah? Do I have to burn my fingers off the next time for you to get it?”

“The hell? That’s just being bitchy, Eunchae!”

“Fuck you! Can’t you not be such an unbelievable… pricklord?”

“…Okay, that’s just weak.”

“Fuck off! I should pour that kettle of hot water over your head!”

“Are you insane?”

“Maybe I am! God knows I’ve already lost my mind living here long enough. With you!”

“Yeah yeah, everything is me, isn’t it? I’m the problem here.”

“So you think you can pin everything on me instead?”

“That’s not what I said! I’m done with this.”

“Then leave! For good! Has no one grown a pair of balls in this house? I know I definitely haven’t, and the last time I checked, you’ve got enough for both of us! So be a man and move on from me!”

“So it’s on me to leave as well! You haven’t learnt to be an independent woman yet, is that it?”

“There is no independence here, under your charge.”

“Stop saying that!”

—

No, really. You should be the bigger man here. The actual man. The one you’re defined to be. Moving on is logical. This will pass, and so will she. Plenty of fish, in this sea.

—

You know what it looks like. This isn’t a Mexican standoff, poker table, an all-in gamble. There shouldn’t be this much trepidation on the fact that both of you are seated on opposite sides of the dining table for the first time in what feels like forever.

“The truth is we can’t understand each other.”

Eunchae doesn’t react for a moment, like the truth doesn’t faze her. Which makes sense. Because the words have always been written here. On the walls. 

“We don’t agree on things. We don’t see eye to eye. We even… think differently.”

“Your point being?” Eunchae says, and you’ve never felt the coldness in her low tone before, but you do now. “We don’t work. We don’t even have the same value system. What you think is right and what I think is right, they don’t align. It’s like being a shitty MBTI match. I’ve tried. You’ve tried. We do our best to carve a way out for both of us, but we never come out the other side. It’s starting to hurt the way I look at you. And I know it has affected the way you see me as well.”

“So I should go, then.”

“No,” you say immediately, like it hurts. “No. It’s just… it’s bad.”

“Get to the point.”

You look up into her eyes. Her tone is detached, no, lobotomised, and it’s completely foreign. But the look in her eyes is anything but. Exactly the same way as before. Bright, but dimming with each passing moment. Affected.    

“I… I don’t know what to do.”

Eunchae stares. Then the tears burst from her eyes.

And you could say a million things about that moment. About how it hurts, how it feels wrong. About how afraid you are of each next passing second, unsure where this road is going, or if there’s any road at all. 

Your heart knows. Your mind knows. Each sparkle down Eunchae’s cheeks knows. She bites her lips, redirecting the pain outward, into something she can feel. She sniffs.

“You should let me go.”

Your throat goes dry. The right thing is to agree, right? Let her lead a better life, you’d do that if you truly loved her. You had no right to keep her for so long anyway, or to keep her at all. So you should just say it. Everyone would be happier this way. 

But. What’s stopping you? 

Eunchae’s breath catches, half because she actually needs air when she’s dying like this, and half because she’s watching your own tears fall.

“I don’t want to. I really, really don’t want to. I don’t know why-” 

“I don’t want to either.”

And you wish she didn’t say that. Because the truth is you love her. But that doesn’t matter, at least not anymore. Not here. Love is bullshit, disaster, the problem. The only thing that can’t be explained in any sort of rational manner-

“I still love you. So much.” 

And Eunchae sobs. Loudly. Her eyes crush into this ugly shape, her teeth gritted like she’s in pain. And the truth is, the two of you should be sick of each other. The two of you should hate each other. By coexisting, logic states that the two of you aren’t a match. The two of you can’t even decide on dinner sometimes, for gods’ sakes. 

She just says, I eat anything, even when the both of you know she has particular foods she doesn’t eat, and then you go I eat anything, because you actually do. And then the two of you just stand there, in the mall, waiting.

“We can’t keep going back,” Eunchae murmurs, rubbing at her eyes, her whole body trembling with each uncontrolled weep. And love, which is the sweetest pain, the most intense, it all just… seems so pointless. Why? Why couldn’t you have been different? Why are you still fighting for this? Eunchae’s next words make so much sense.

“All we’ve been doing is coming back to this moment. It’s a loop. We break, we fall. We come back. -hic- We never move on. You argue with yourself over and over again if you’re doing the right thing, like it matters to deny what’s in your heart.”

She sniffs again, and your hand shoots out to grab the tissue box by the end of the table. To drag it into the space between you two like a marker.

“...Should we just go?” You say, clearing your throat like you’ve been yelling for seven straight hours at a wall. 

“I don’t know,” Eunchae admits, shoulders hunched, dabbing at her eyes with the tissue. She looks up with this sad smile, this look that tells you she can’t care any more about the consequences. “How could I ever know?” 

She’s right. You’ve always known she’s right. You picked her because she’s always been right. Right in her own way. Just. The whites on the wall don’t need to peel for you to understand. There’s no need for a bell to signal the end of this ballad.

“I’d still try, you know? Over and over again. No matter how long it takes. Regardless of if it matters. If it changes anything.” “At the very least, I’d still be with you. Even if it hurts. I don’t know if I know how to go.”

“I know you would,” Eunchae almost laughs, this unnaturally light sound in this sombre mood, “But it’s okay. We can move on. Pretend this never happened. Pretend you never had the urge to come to me, to take me, use me, communicate something in a way that matters. Pretend you never loved me.”

“It sucks,” Eunchae admits, “We could call it quits here, right now. And it’ll feel like we’ve dumped a pointless amount of something to get to nothing. And maybe in a few years you’ll really forget all about me, realise that this was all pointless. Move on to someone younger, prettier and better. And that’s just how life works. It allows you to fixate on all the right things, and you’ll just get rid of anything that’s even halfway difficult to approach.”

Eunchae sniffs again. Her tears have stopped, and this moment really does feel final. There’s nothing left to write. 

“I should go,” you say.

You should go.

“The house,” she begins, turning to face the walls. Everything the two of you have taken shelter under, that’s been built together. Fifty-fifty. Even. Split.

“Keep it. It’s yours.” You say. The truth is, even the idea of retaining your share of everything feels like a black mark you won’t be able to erase. It’s best to just leave everything as it is. Cut yourself off completely. Remove yourself from any suspicion. 

“This house was made because of you. It should be left to you.”

Eunchae nods, slowly at first, like she’d argue. But arguments now are… needless.

The two of you pack like a couple. An actual one. She just hands things over wordlessly, things that go neatly into the next part of your suitcase. Clothes are easy. Everything else is difficult. Because how do you find things that she hasn’t touched, hasn’t graced? How do you just… remove everything that’s been tormenting you for months?

And it’s the way the tears start again, because each layer you unpack is another thing, another stupid reminder of what the two of you blended and made. Eunchae sinks to the floor, cradling one of those predrawn artworks the two of you never got around to finish painting, and even you can’t find the strength to pick her back up. You called it stupid. She’d promise you it’d be finished in two weeks, together. Bought it last year. On holiday. You watch her. Face concealed, that wavy curtain of hair you always thought hid her beauty from the outside world now looks like refuge, the last thing stopping her.

“I don’t want you to go.”

It’s soft. But genuine.

You zip up your suitcase. “I’ll see myself out.”

You declare it like she doesn’t trail behind you anyway, white following black, all the way to the door. 

“It’s… for real this time,” you say, exhausted. This has been a long time coming. Eunchae nods, like she agrees, her eyes still staring straight at the center of your body. Maybe she can see your heart. But she probably can’t. Because otherwise she probably would have stopped you by now. “... goodbye?” Eunchae says slowly.

And you look past her, at the house. The room. Everything that’s still there, that Eunchae will slowly have to filter out, toss away. And you almost smile. Maybe a part of you will still be here, even though it doesn’t matter. You won’t forget, will you? This should feel important. 

The house still smells like her. You wonder how long it’ll take her to get rid of your scent.

“Bye.”

And the important thing here is not how you leave, turning away, letting the door close on you without support, without either of you having a hand on the handles, but the way she reacts. Because you might not goddamn see it, but it’s everything that’s happening behind the door, the thing you can only imagine is happening, that really gets you.

How she slumps against the door, forehead first, then sinks. The way she has to curl up against it, a ball of ashy hair, her nails scratching at her lower lip, eyes empty. 

The way her fingers still find a way to scratch at the wooden front door, like you’re on the other side, and she’s the one waiting for you to open up and let her inside.

And your feet still haven’t left the dais.

Does it matter? Is everyone right? Is this lie of pretending she doesn’t exist, like she isn’t right fucking there, is this the best thing us as human beings could come up with?

Should you give a fuck? Don’t we pride ourselves on freedom of expression? If this fucked up way of constantly thinking about her, constantly coming back to her is wrong? Then what isn’t?

Desecration. Humiliation. The she knows or she doesn’t. Innocence and youth and the you shouldn’t do her like this, like everything’s true in your heart is false because it cannot be seen. Anguish.

The door clicks.

Eunchae stumbles away from the door, eyes widening like gold is falling from the sky. She barely gets a foot away before it swings open, and you’re quick, rushed.

You grab her by the scruff of her neck, pulling her up, tossing your luggage to the side. You don’t care if the handle cracks the marble.

And yeah, it looks like a fight. And it is a fight. A fight to protect the one goddamn thing you love.

Your lips find Eunchae’s. She’s pretty, all with her rosy lips and panicked gasps, but the kiss is anything but.

You press hard. Your fingers go to her hair, her neck, pulling her in. Her nails curl against your thin tee like she’ll scratch your heart out.

It takes a moment for you to realise she’s crying. Wait no, you are. What does it matter?

You pull apart for a fraction of a second, so you can realign yourself and kiss her again. She cries directly into your mouth, and it’s a rough pound against your chest that finally separates the two of you.

“Why?” She croaks, your lips stained with the salt of her pain, “you were supposed to leave. You had to leave! Now we’ll just go back into that same rhythm again!”

You don’t reply, just pull her in again. And yeah, she goes powerless. She kisses you back, harder than you thought possible, her fingers tugging hard at your shirt, pulling it up and bunching the fabric up.

The two of you break only when desperately necessary, both heaving like the two of you have summited a peak.

“I can’t go. Won’t go. Don’t go.” 

And Eunchae squeezes her eyes tightly shut. And your lips go to her cheek, right below her eye. All this isn’t new to you, save for the fact that this is the latest time you’ve mended back together.

Her hands go to your back, squeezing you tight, keeping you close. She doesn’t draw away, only pulls you in deeper, because the both of you realise losing this is the only real defeat in both your lives.

She pulls your shirt off, over your head. Her hands rest against your chest, next to your beating heart.

“I missed you,” she admits, between laboured sobs.

“Me too.”

“Bedroom.”

The two of you stumble backwards, a clumsy waltz back. You guide her, slowly, all while she starts pressing gentle kisses on your neck, your collar. Breathes in your scent hungrily like your memory can fade away from her nose, given time.

You guide her hands to find the top of the mattress. Her fingers close, take in the textile feel of the fabric.

You reach for the hem of her shirt. And you wait, longer than you should. Long enough to hesitate.

But she nods. And you pull it off of her.

Her bra is simple. Grey. Your lips find hers first, a kiss to reassure, to remind her this is happening, your hands thumbing away her tears, which are stilling.

She doesn’t shiver at your touch, doesn’t flinch when your lips go to that spot beneath her ear. You’ve been in this spot before.

All she does is tug you over her, closing the distance to nada, till you can feel her own need on yours. Her hands disappear behind her back, and it’s quick, the way her bra is tossed aside with her left hand, and her cute little handfuls are bared to you.

And sure. Maybe it’s wrong. Maybe you’ve taken things too far. Maybe what’s important is that you don’t fucking care. You want her. She wants you.

You kiss her shoulder. Then her breasts. You’re painstakingly gentle with each, placing gentle kisses on each mound, your hands rubbing her waist in circles. She arches her back, her breath catching in a delightful little gasp.

“More,” she asks cutely.

You swear you’ll protect her till the day you die. You use your thumbs first, introduce them to the sides of her breasts. It’s a formal greeting, letting her feel the warmth of your touch as you draw the curves of her chest before you start applying any pressure. 

Her fingers find your hair, moaning as your tongue paints her sensitive skin, glides over her nipples. 

“Oh fuck,” you hear. You grin inwardly.

You rub her peaks against your tongue, rub the surrounding flesh with your fingers. They feel good in your hands, good as they always would. That’s the exercise here.

Eunchae shudders, her elbows squeezed to her side like it tickles, her fingers clenching on open air.

“Mmnn!”

“Love you, babe. So much.”

You kiss her lips again. Your fingers brush over her rubbery nubs firmly, insistently, a metronomic motion.

“God yes,” she says, smiling with her eyes.

Below her shirt, she has shorts on, denim booty shorts, previously concealed beneath her oversized tee. Your hands are already slightly edging downwards, and the only thing that stops you is a sudden giggle from above.

“What?” You say, confused.

Eunchae reaches for her own chest, gently squeezing and humming softly. “You look so stupid going to take my pants off while you’re crying.”

You laugh, and she joins in. “Doofus, you’re crying too.”

“Fuck,” she says, grinning as she does so. Then her hands come down to help. One firm push from her, mixed with one sharp tug from you, and everything else falls off of her.

“Damn, beautiful.”

Eunchae laughs, meaning to pull you back up to her, but you’re already snaking your way down below, till your knees are off the bed and on the floor.

“Not wasting time, are we?” She says idly, propped up on one elbow, the other tossing her hand back behind her.

“All we do is waste time,” you reply, pulling her legs apart without another word.

Her pussy, soft, inviting, looking like it can’t fit more than a couple fingers in there. They shine with arousal, and you don’t need to look up to know she’s slightly flushed.

You take the same approach you did with her tits, rubbing gently into the flesh of her thighs, and pressing loving kisses to either side till she nearly kicks you from her giggles. 

“You don’t have to be shy, you know.”

“Funny,” you reply, “coming from you.”

You plunge your tongue between her legs.

Eunchae gasps, her eyes widening as it hits her all at once. You go deep, plunging into the depths of her core while making her sure her legs go still. 

You lap gently. Take what’s coating your tongue and go around her outer lips first, give both sides equal attention before you spread them again, drinking from the pool between them.

Eunchae shudders, throwing her head back, an unexpectedly low tone passing from between her lips.

You press down on your tongue, using your head for added effect to apply more pressure, letting her feel the heat of your own tongue.

“Shit!”

“Mmm, yum,” you reply. 

Eunchae clamps a hand over her mouth, her eyes all wide, doing a remarkable job and concealing her pleasured groans even as your gentle laps against her pussy turns to lashes.

“Now who’s being the shy one?” you tease, gathering spit on your tongue as additional lubricant and letting it fall lewdly between her legs.

“Shut up. This is… different.”

You cock an eyebrow. “Different? What, does it feel like you’re being watched?”

“I don’t know, maybe, yeah.”

“Like you need to care about giving a fuck. Just keep your eyes on me. And you know I like it when you voice your enjoyment.”

“Fine, jeez, it’s embarrassing, you know,” Eunchae says. You don’t reply, already leaning forward for a second helping.

This time, a couple of your fingers work to pull her further apart, because the truth is, she’s tight. She always has been, and maybe always will be. You rub a finger between the slit, because you know it’s better when she has time to get used to it. And you know she loves it when you take your time with her.

And you haven’t even gotten to the button poking out from beneath her hood yet.

“Ah!” Eunchae cries when you seize it by the lips, legs shaking. 

“God, you eat pussy like you’re famished.”

“Only yours,” you reply, pressing another gentle kiss to her thigh, giving her but a moment’s respite. “And like you’d blame me.”

A chuckle is her response, one that’s cut off as you really start to go for it, apply full strokes the way you’ve learned she enjoys.

She enjoys everything really, anything beneath your touch. But you’ve worked hard to know what really gets her going.

“Don’t cramp on me now,” you warn, because it’s happened before.

“Ah! That- guh, that’ll be later.”

It’d be better if it was never, because it really does get in the way sometimes. But occasionally that’s how it is. 

Eunchae locks her feet together behind your head, sinking back against the sheets, arms spread wide. You glance up, able to observe her heavy breathing, her chest heaving as she tosses her head left, then right like she’s having a bad dream.

She decorates the room with her soft cries, her tone a blend of rich timbre and youthful charm. Your hands keep her legs well apart, fingers almost drumming a pattern into her skin.

“Fuck, that feels really good,” Eunchae confesses.

Her hips start to move in time with your tongue, bucking back and forth gently till she hits a particular spot and lets out a shattered moan.

“Right here?” You ask, redirecting yourself to find that spot you brushed by moments earlier.

The increase in amplitude of her voice gives you the answer.

“Oh my fucking-,” Eunchae buries her mouth into her elbow, “please don’t stop. I think I might cum.”

“I won’t stop, baby,” you say, your fingers replacing your tongue whenever you speak. Add one, let her feel the intensity. “I’ll keep going, right here, okay? Till you let go for me.”

You lower your head again, and all conversations stops. Just the soft sounds of you sucking on wet flesh and the louder sounds of what it’s doing to her entire body.

“Hnn- oh, oh,” Eunchae snaps her hips suddenly, like she managed to find even more than what she asked for.

“Oh shit, oh fuck. That’s really good.”

You almost scoff. As if she hates the word.

And the one thing about her is that she doesn’t lie. When she gets going, starts reaching her peak, it’s obvious. It comes in the slight tremble in her legs. Inconsistent at first, little twitches, her toes curling against one another, then more persistently, like a soft electrical hum.

“I’m going to cum soon,” Eunchae says, like you can’t feel it beneath the vibrations of her skin.

You continue your efforts. You don’t speed up, just keep giving it to her at this exact pace, the one that she’s into today, till it’s almost robotic. You don’t speed up, but you don’t slow either, and to Eunchae, it feels like a consistent, growing build up she can’t tug away from.

“Fucking g-mmmhmmph,” Eunchae hums, borderline painfully. Almost there. You will your tongue to continue, no matter how tired it may be.

Her voice comes out in vibrato.

“Fuck! Fuuu-uu-uuu-uu-ck!”

And it’s because her body does too. Her whole body shakes, convulses uncontrollably. You guess orgasms give some people electrical shocks, because her hips twitch and buck powerfully at incredible space, and yeah, you’ve seen this before, but it’s not like the scene isn’t amazing and incredibly hot each and every time.

Eunchae whimpers like she’s afraid, a long and deep orgasm that rocks her entire body, overstimulates every single nerve.

You hold her through it, closing your eyes and letting yourself hear her, hear how well you’ve done her, feel as wetness splashes against your chin.

You hold her till she stops shaking, fingers rubbing into her thighs, easing the muscles. She always gets like this. You pray, no cramps today, please.

Eunchae takes a few moments to gasp for air, a delirious, nonsensical laugh bubbling from between her lips.

“How was that?” You say, fishing for compliments.

It takes a couple of seconds for Eunchae to prop herself back up to look at you. Her eyes are wide, unfocused, her nostrils flared and jaw slightly open.

“You know our makeup sex is the best.”

You snigger, reaching up to pinch her cheeks. It’s still slightly cool from her faded tears. She slaps your hand playfully, scrunching her nose.

“You’re adorable,” you say, and she laughs.

“Come here, you sack of potatoes.”

You pull her towards you, just as your legs clamber back on the bed. Her legs stay splayed open on either side of you.

“Let’s get you out of these, hmm?” Eunchae’s fingers move your pants, almost gently singing a tune as she undoes them.

You watch her for a few good moments, lost in the way she looks, the way happiness evident in every fiber of her being brings a calmness to your heart as well.

You don’t know how you’d deny or ever leave her.

Eunchae seems to notice that she’s the only one actually doing anything, and she gives you that curious look, frowning and for a moment it seems like she’s going to berate you about leaving your laundry hanging about again. You help her hurriedly, shimmying out of your pants.

“Want a blowjob?” She asks, palming your length in her grip. The couple strokes that follow are wholly unnecessary, and only really serve to show how big you are in her hands.

You shake your head. “We have other days for that.”

“Then what are you waiting for?”

No idea. You scoop your hands under her, under her sides, gently flipping her like a pancake. She makes a motion to raise her hips. You push them back down gently.

“Stay,” you say softly, slowly pulling her legs apart, lowering yourself till she can feel the heat of your pelvis above and behind her.

“This is cute.”

“Really, cute?” You say, slowly guiding yourself to her entrance. She’s beyond wet.

“Ye-ah!”

You push your hips forward, pressing delicately with each inch. Eunchae’s feet rub gently against the bedsheets, her voice hitching as her body grows to accept you.

It’s slow. She’s tight, but she’s also incredibly wet, so her body kind of tells you when you can sink fully.

“You good?” You ask breathily, your hands shaking against the bed. She feels indescribably good. Soft.

“Yeah,” Eunchae huffs, and the both of you hold onto your breaths as you thrust the last inch into her.

“There we go,” you gasp, feeling way too much at once. You can even discern her own heartbeat as your body drops over hers.

You press a kiss on her shoulder blades, and she rubs the back of your arms gently.

“God, fuck me,” she murmurs.

“Getting to it,” you mutter, frowning. She’s still somehow impatient.

The two of you shift till your hips are comfortably aligned. And then you lift your hips and slowly draw yourself from her warmth. 

“There we go,” Eunchae says with a slight hiss, “that’s it.”

Plap!

Her perky derrière claps against your pelvis as it drops.

Plap. Plap! Plap!

“Nngh, fuck,” Eunchae groans, her head falling to the sheets already.

“This might be too much for you,” you say.

“Shut up. Prick with a big dick.”

You laugh. That’s a new one.

The pace gets easy. Eunchae lies comfortably, prone, simply making sure her hips are up at the correct angle to make things easier for you. You focus on hilting on each stroke, controlling your energy and making sure each thrust is even.

But in no time at all, she’s bucking her hips back up as well, meeting you back. And it helps. Feels great, too.

“Mmm, fuck, I really don’t know how I could possibly get away from this.”

“Yeah, it’d be your loss. People do say I have a magic penis.”

Eunchae snorts, and, like she didn’t learn her lesson, it’s cut off again by her need to moan.

“What’s with this position anyway?”

“You don’t like it?”

“No, it’s good. mmm... Just curious. You shy?”

Plap!

You roll your eyes. “Yeah, maybe it’s because sometimes you’re too pretty and it hurts to look at you.”

“Bullshit!” Eunchae calls immediately, but then her expression turns serious. “Wait, seriously?”

You press a kiss to her ear; You press another to her cheek.

“Don’t let it get to your head,” you whisper, before you start amping up your thrusts.

And you don’t see it, but Eunchae has a childish grin. And maybe it’s that kid competitiveness in her, but the harder and faster you start to thrust down, the harder her hips seem to rise up to meet yours.

Plap! Plap!

“Fuck,” you groan, tilting your head back. She’s gripping onto you so tight. Your head is swimming. The two of you could melt an ice pack with your shared body heat.

“So good.”

“Yeah? Liking it?”

“Mhmm!”

“Need something more?”

“No, this is great, really! Oh! Just, don’t act like I’ll break, mmkay? You’re gentler than usual today.”

Curious.

“Mmm, just let me know,” you mutter, refocusing your attention on making sure she gets it good. You press another kiss to her cheek, her hair tickling your nose, allowing you to catch a whiff of her pleasant ocean shampoo.

With surprising dexterity, Eunchae manages to reach for one of her hair ties laying next to her pillow, scooping her hair back and tying it into a neater ponytail. And it’s between her incessant moans and coos as well.

She tilts her head to the side, catching your gaze. She puckers her lips, and you get the message, meeting her for a couple of kisses. Difficult to get much more than light pecks in, but she doesn’t seem to complain. 

You rearrange to kiss her better, and her ass rises up naturally, her knees tucking beneath her.

“This is nicer,” Eunchae says between surprisingly chaste kisses, “you looked like you were trying too hard earlier.”

“Really? Is that an insult to my endurance?”

“You talk too much.”

Eunchae tugs you towards her again, and you can feel her smiling against your lips, and you’re sure she can feel you too.

“Harder, babe. Come on.”

You nod, pumping your hips forward, more used to this more elevated position. Eunchae flicks her ponytail back, straightening her back as your hands come to rest comfortably on her waist.

“Fuck, darling, you feel so good. Seriously. You’re the best.”

“Good that you know that,” Eunchae replies, “now fuck me like you mean it.”

Your fingers dig into her skin, truth be told, you’re still a little scared she’ll break. It’s just something about her in general. You blame it on her squishy cheeks. There’s something about her that sometimes makes you hold back. 

But whatever Manchae wants, Manchae gets. So if it’s a good dicking down, you’d be obliged.

The sounds of your hips meeting grows louder, rising to meet Eunchae’s volume. And her words get filthier.

“Oh god, yes! Fuck me! Harder!”

“That’s it,” she growls, “Yes! There!”

You gasp, overtaken by both exhaustion and pleasure. Eunchae doesn’t ever need to try hard to get you there, ever. Her gift, maybe.

“Mmm, fuck, Eun-ah, Chae, shit- babygirl,” your hands find her ass, kneading softly, something to distract you.

But Eunchae has other plans. She reaches behind grabbing a hold of your left hand with her own, and slowly tugs it forwards. 

Towards her back, you think at first, or her shoulders, for stability. But no, she brings you all the way to her head, clasping your fingers and pressing them over the back of her skull.

Then the angle between her thighs widens, and she arches her back fully, letting you see this magnificent view of all of her, that descends past her hips.

Her moans become muffled by the sheets. “Please!”

“Fuck.” You press her down, fully, keeping her head pressed to the bed as you ramp up.

“Oh, yes, like that! Just like that!”

“Are you getting close?”

“Mmm! Are you?”

“You know I am.”

“Just hold on a little bit longer, okay? Mmph! You’re fucking me so good right now, it’s driving absolutely crazy. Keep doing that, you crazy bastard. I love it!”

Ah hell. Whatever. 

You keep her pinned, your right hand grubbing her waist tightly; guiding the way her hips thrust back onto your cock so you can grind yourself as deeply as you can into her.

And you’re definitely on the right track, because her body twitches with surprising force, and she tries to tile her head back.

You release your grip on her locks, and she turns back to look at you urgently. You feel her trying to shift your weight. You slow, confused.

“I wanna see you when you cum in me.”

Your eyes go wide. But she’s already in motion, and the two of you reposition till she’s flat on her back, legs wide, you pressed, leaned between them.

She presses her hips up against you insistently, and it’s muscle memory that gets you fucking her again.

“Yes, I’m gonna cum!”

Yeah, you can feel that. Her legs are trembling again.

“Babygirl–”

“Cum with me! Cum with me, cum with me cum with me!”

Pleasure suddenly spikes throughout your whole body.

“Oh fuck, baby, wait–

“Fuck meee… Cumming!”

“Oh fuck!”

You groan, firing off first. It’s a complete crashing wave, one that knocks you off your metaphorical feet, till you’re dumping and groaning and simply gasping at how much it all is, suddenly spilling and shooting and feeling that it’ll never stop.

Eunchae’s a couple beats behind, her legs quivering and shaking with enough strength to rock the both of you as she shrieks, her hands twisted dangerously tight around your arms. Both your moans reverberate, and your eyes nearly bug out of your skull.

With her full-body convulsions, it’s a completely unbelievable and incredible sensation on your member, and it wrings dry any possible remnants you could have.

It actually takes you a couple minutes to process what happened. You nearly ripped your cock out of her from the amount of sudden, concentrated pleasure. Sure, make up sex has always been awesome? But that?

Eunchae murmurs gently, incoherently, her eyes still firmly shut. She’s tugging at you gently, trying to get you over her, and once you regain your senses you let her, the two of you collapsing in a post sex coma.

“Holy shit,” you murmur. “That was…”

“Nnmm, uh..uh huh.”

“Baby–”

“Yeah.”

You’d laugh if you weren’t gasping for air.

After another five minutes, when the hammering in both chests have stopped, Eunchae presses a kiss to your cheek. You jerk your head up, having already nearly fallen asleep. 

She gives you another kiss on your lips, then rolls onto her side. You slide into that natural spot behind her, spooning you both.

“Covers.”

You tug the sheets and toss them over the both of you.

“I’m gonna pull out,” you murmur.

“Fuck it.”

You smile against her back.

“You’re crazy.”

“Mhm. Night, babe.”

“Night.”

You help to turn off the lights, then settle back into your spot. Everything feels right, just like it always has. The way you cuddle behind her, it’s like it has always been.

Except. Something nags at you, and it takes you a moment to figure out what’s up.

“Babygirl.”

“Yeah?” Eunchae asks a heartbeat later.

“You thinking?”

“...yeah.”

“About what?”

Eunchae doesn’t reply. 

“... Is it about whether anything changed?”

A sniffle.

“Hey,” you say, reaching over. You cup her cheeks. They are damp. You sigh.

“I know. God dammit. I know.”

“It’s the same,” Eunchae murmurs, like it is heartbreak. “Is it? Is it another loop, baby? Is it not working for you?”

“No, I mean… no. It…”

“What?”

You feel Eunchae shuffle in her position. “We’re improving. We are. You didn’t even dump your laundry in the right basket at first. Now you’re doing it for me. I don’t know how you feel, but I feel like every time, we get a little closer. Closer to that perfect thing we both want, the perfect day we can both wake up to.”

You feel fuzzy. “Then why the tears?”

“Because I don’t know if we’re healing fast enough. What if it takes too long to get there. What if the guilt gets to you? What if one of us gets chased out?”

A pause. You rub her cheeks gently, trying to rid her tears with damp fingers. You don’t know, honestly.

“Then fuck it. What matters is our here and now. And that we tried. I won’t run away from it. If I go down, I go down swinging. You’re what matters.” 

“Do you believe that?”

You lie back down, your hand still protectively wrapped around her waist. 

“I do. Because nothing’s worth it if I don’t.”

After a while, Eunchae’s breathing turns regular, smooth. You said something that mattered, something true. And it must have comforted her. And even as you sink into sleep, sink deeper into the confirmation that yeah, you know what, you believe in what you said. What does anything else mean in the grand scheme of things? Does anything matter more than the warm body next to you?

The real question is:

Did any of it matter?

Because what else is any of this? Besides video tapes that are only evidence to two?

____

You’re pretty sure you’ve told your knees to stop shaking three times already. And still, they wouldn’t listen.

You rub your hands together. It’s not even that cold yet. Some of the fleece on your jacket must have peeled off. The insulation feels like shit today. Your eyes scan the campus garden furtively, making sure that none of your friends are in the vicinity. You have to be undercover today, or you’ll never hear the end of it.

“Hey.”

Ah crap. You swallow slowly, turning your head to look at her. Hong Eunchae, hair done up in a ponytail, with those bangs that have become her signature. 

“Hey.”

“You look like a wreck. Did one of the profs assign a surprise test or what?”

“No,” you chuckle weakly, “that’s not it. But I’m sure you can guess what’s really up.”

Eunchae tilts her head to the sky for a moment, slowly walking over and dropping her bag on the seat next to yours. 

“Yes, considering everyone’s eyes on campus will be on you from this day onward, I guess you’d be nervous.”

“Thanks for the sympathy.”

Eunchae laughs. “I mean, what were you expecting? You had the balls to come up to me to ask me out, you’d better have the balls to become the talk of the school for the next few weeks.”

“For the foreseeable future, more like. I can already imagine Yunjin’s instagram post. Comp Eng Loser tries to steal my bestie? I’m gonna smoke his ass.”

“Oh, Yunjin already knows.” 

“What?” You freeze.

“Eh, you’ll be alright.”

“You do realise that the both of us have no idea if this is going to work, right?”

“All the more reason for you to not screw this up, then.”

“...Fantastic.”

____

“Emmchhe!”

Eunchae doubles over, her hands clutching her belly.

You pull the ice cream cone off your face, looking positively furious.

“Are you kidding me?”

“You look like Anpanman!”

“Oh it’s funny to you, is it?” You growl, rubbing the strawberry ice cream on your flushed cheekbones. “Seriously? Ice cream slap? This cone cost fourteen bucks!”

“Worth it!” Eunchae sings, throwing you finger guns. 

“You!” You snarl, swiping at her face with the cone. Eunchae shrieks.

“Ah! You got it on me!”

A long streak of red slices across Eunchae’s features from lip to jaw, like a really bad nosebleed.

“Deserved. I’m taking a photo.”

“Hey!”

Eunchae’s fingers clamp around the hand reaching into your pocket, halting it. You roll your eyes. 

“Fine. I won’t. Let go of me.”

“I don’t trust you! Haha!” 

You sigh, watching as the ice cream starts to melt on her soft features. Without thinking, your free hand comes up to start wiping it off. Eunchae’s eyes widen for a moment. Then she giggles. Laughs. Her hands release your own, and she comes up to tap at your cheeks, like she’s checking if the damage has really been done.

You laugh too. Goddammit.

____ “It’s peaceful here,” Eunchae mutters, leaning her head against your shoulders. It’s nice and cool, the perfect temperature to come to the river. Eunchae was right in dragging your lazy ass over. “I thought it’d be busy, but it’s like everyone knows to keep things quiet and nice.”

“Yeah, it’s nice. But your jjapageti is getting cold.”

“Mmm… feed me.”

“You’re such a baby,” You sigh, but you do it anyway. Eunchae giggles, clapping happily. 

“Delicious!” 

“Yeah yeah,” you smile. Your hand reaches for the fried chicken next. “Try this.”

Eunchae makes an appealing crunch. She hums in joy, her whole body swaying at the taste. You laugh. It’s ridiculous. She even bobs her head.

“You better feed me next.”

“I don’t wanna!”

“Brat.”

___

“So I’m going first?”

“Prepare to have your mind blown, Miss Hong. This dish is about to be so good, it’ll give you an out-of-body orgasm.”

“Pervert!”

“What? It happens in Food Wars! This is culinary expertise here!”

“Sure, sure. But the plating looks kind of simple, don’t you think?” “Blasphemy! How dare you insult my skills. It’s art. A Michelin recipe!”

“Michelin, eh? You know the tire company-”

“Yeah, yeah, just get on with it. I cannot wait to see the look on your bedazzled face when you try my bamboozling bokkeumbap.”

“Alright, Chef Ramsay. Let’s see what you’ve got.”

You watch intently as she scoops up a spoon of rice.

“Get the kimchi! That’s the best part!”

“Jeez, let me eat in peace, will you?”

The food enters her mouth. She chews. Bites. There’s a nice sounding crunch of kimchi. Her face is stoic. You watch with baited breath.

Then she frowns, squeezing her eyes shut and cringing.

“It’s salty!”

“Bullshit!” You leap to your feet, offended beyond belief. You were a goddamn magician in the kitchen earlier!

“It really is!” 

“This is biased judgement. Malfeasance!”

“Settle down, boy who cried wolf. I rate it a five out of ten.”

Your jaw slams into the ground. “A five? Where are my boyfriend pity points?”

“Already included. Two of them, in fact.”

You feel like tossing the frying pan at her. Your hands vanish into your hair. This is outrage!

“Try mine.”

“No! This isn’t fair. We need an unbiased judge! I’ll call the neighbours over.”

“Scared you’ll lose?”

Your eye twitches.

“Yeah right. If mine’s a five, yours is not even surpassing a three.”

“Spoon to the plate, dipshit.”

“I can’t wait to puke all over you.”

“Ew!”

You take your seat. Scoop up a plate of suspiciously orange looking bokkeumbap. So what if her egg is fluffier than yours? The rice is the real deal breaker here. Eunchae watches you like she already knows she’s won. What an egotist.

You send it to your mouth confidently. Yeah right, there’s no way she’s gonna beat you. She nearly dropped the knife earlier, nearly caused a panicked mess. You can’t wait to spit it back at-

Your face blanks. You stare. Your spoon clatters to the table.

Eunchae shows her pearly whites.

You stare at the plate. Then back at her. Chew.

“That’s not fair!” You roar, slamming your hand down on the table like you need a drink. Eunchae shrieks with glee, climbing out of her seat and doing a celebratory spin.

“This is your mom’s recipe! How the hell am I supposed to beat that!”

“Eat my ass!” 

Oh you’ll do that alright. But you’re still fucking mad.

“This was supposed to be an individual competition! No outside help allowed!”

“I cooked it all myself,” Eunchae says matter-of-factly.

“Using other people’s recipe is against the rules!”

“Uh, actually, dipshit, it wasn’t even in the rules. Brains beats brawn, right?”

“Fuck off!” You turn back to the table, shoving another mouthful of her bokkeumbap into your mouth, “Mommy’s girl. Cheater!”

Eunchae laughs, drumming her hands against your back. You continue eating, shovelling the impeccable taste of her mom’s cooking into your goblet, all while ranting about the injustice of society.

“Hey! That’s my lunch! Go back to eating your three out of ten! Asshole!”

____

The cabin shakes slightly beneath your feet, giving both you and Eunchae a slight scare. She looks up at you, sniggering.

“This is safe, right?”

“Yes, you big baby. Now focus on what’s behind you.”

You turn around, watching as the Ferris Wheel starts to ascend, giving you a great view of the Japanese coastline. 

“Wow. Blue, blue, and more blue. Stunning.”

“Killjoy,” Eunchae grumbles, taking out her phone to snap a few pictures to send to Chaewon and the girls. You smile, hands in your pockets, one thumbing a thin chain of metal between your fingers.

“Hey, babe?” You say once the two of you are decently up in the air. 

“Yeah? Could you bend over, baby? I want to take a pic behind you.”

You’ll ignore making the obvious joke this time.

“Are you enjoying our anniversary celebration?”

“Yeah,” Eunchae nods happily, then tilts her head to the side. “Why?”

“Rate it?”

“Ten out of ten? You brought me to Japan, babe. I think that’s definitely a step up.”

It’s good that she’s loving it and all, but you get a cheeky idea.

“A perfect ten? Okay then. Guess my job here is done.”

Eunchae narrows her eyes. “What is it?”

“Nothing?”

Her eyes drop to the hands in your pockets.

“What’s that? You’ve got something.”

“Is that so? Why don’t you guess? What has Bagginses got in his pocketses?”

Eunchae rolls her eyes. “Show it to me.”

“You’re no fun,” you sigh. 

You pull the necklace out from your pocket, grinning as you see her eyes glimmer and her smile widen.

“Oh my god. I could kiss you.”

“Could? You better kiss me. This is worth at least a dozen kisses from my girlfriend. And a blowjob. And buttsex!”

“Freak!” Eunchae’s eyes widen, but her smile is still plastered on. “Give it here!”

“Giveitses?”

“Oh, stop with that. Come on!”

“Come here then!”

Eunchae cheers excitedly as she moves over to your side, giggling as you gingerly put it on for her.

“You lose this, and you’re paying me back with buttsex.”

“Stop!”

You smile at the little glimmer now added to her shine. It’s perfect, like you thought it would be. For a moment, nothing matters. Not the bill, not the time spent, not what’s going to happen next. It’s just you and her. And that indescribable feeling. “What do you think?”

Eunchae looks down, her eyes similarly in a state of wonder.

“I love it.”

“It? Is that all you really have to say for yourself?”

She giggles, like she doesn’t even care how much she’s rubbing it in.

“Fine. What do you want me to say?”

“You even need me to tell you?” You say, shaking your head in disappointment.

“Come on. Say the three words babe.”

____

A/N:

“Don’t you have games that you have to play?” she asks, focus entirely on the yarn in the hands. “You have like, what, ten games you haven’t played yet since the sale?”

“I’m not in the mood to play ‘em.” You let out a deep sigh, fingers rhythmically tapping at the bedsheets. “I don’t even know why I got them in the first place.”

“That’s what you get for buying them all,” she giggles, glancing at her tablet momentarily, holding up the in-progress-cloth. “Why don’t you play that one game?”

“Which one?” You prop yourself up by the elbow, chin on your hand. Watching her fingers deftly weave the wool, admiring how good she looks. Light makeup, glasses that make her look delectably adorable, your flannel over the white top she has on. You’re not sure if she knows that a hint of the black lace underneath is peeking out, but it’s not like there’s anyone that isn’t you have the privilege to see it right now.

“The one with the big number,” she replies, tilting her head. “All about paintings, from what I remember?”

“Oh, that one.” You’re not going to tell her that you bought that game full price and not on the recent sale. A game on the backlog is a game on the backlog, after all. “Maybe I should pick it up.”

“I heard it won a lot of awards,” she adds, face scrunching up cutely when she inspects her work. “And the story’s got everyone hooked.”

“Maybe you can watch while I play?” You grin, knowing that she’ll be taking the controller from you at some point. Even on the intended difficulty, you knew how hard that game was. Add the fact that Sakura gets extremely competitive on wanting to be the best, and you’ll most likely need to add a few controllers to the cart. 

“Later, hun.” She smiles, turning to look at you. “I want to finish this hat for Sana first.”

“But I’m bored,” you whine, pleading with your eyes. Silently begging for her to give you some much needed attention.

“You’re so needy today,” she teases, letting out a little chuckle at your dilemma. “Can’t you play it without me?”

“I can, but I wanna play it with you.” That makes her melt, and her hand reaches out to boop your nose.

“Sweet,” she says, making you smile. “I promise I’ll play it with you later, okay?”

“Fine,” you relent, rolling back down onto the bed. Eyes gazing up on an upside down Sakura, who’s gone back to focusing on the yarn in her hands. “Still bored, by the way.”

“I’m sure there’s something you can do,” she says, her tongue sticking out, struggling at this one part.

Her statement gets you to think. No missed chores that you can pick back up, not in the mood to head to the gym after yesterday’s leg day, don’t want to play without Sakura—

Playing with Sakura is a thought. A fun one, upon giving it much thought. You glance back down to where the hint of her bra is peeking out of that tight top she has on, and even your flannel—as loose as it was on her—can’t hide how busty she is.

You move to sit behind her, arms wrapped around her tiny waist. Pulling her close, her arms come up to face level as she leans back against you. The face she must be making would tell you that she has an inkling of what you have in store to get rid of your boredom.

She’ll still ask what you’re doing. Give you that raise of her brow as she gives you a side eye. Roll her eyes at you when you give her a noncommittal answer, like a shrug and a nonchalant “Just watching you do your thing, sweetheart.”

You let your hands slide underneath her top, feeling the milky smooth skin and the contour of her abs, fingers running through the hard muscle. She lets you, of course; continuing on with completing the beige ‘hat’ that you quite can’t tell how far along it is from being one.

Your chin rests on her shoulder, the view of her deep cleavage from the top gets your fingers feeling frisky, and you gulp at the sight. You distract yourself with a whiff of her shampoo and her body wash wafting through your nostrils. It gets you nuzzling into her neck, lips leaving a peck by her pulse, your breath getting her ticklish and getting her to giggle.

“Stop.” The playful way in her tone along with a small nudge of her elbow against your chest tells you otherwise, and your hands come to join. Touching the spots you know where she’s ticklish, getting your fingers stabbing into them lightly that gets her to reveal the melody of her laugh that never fails to get you to smile.

It gets to a point where the yarn falls down to her lap, her own hands trying to get you to stop your assault on her spots. Every giggle, every laugh—it’s intoxicating, such a beautiful harmony that you could never grow tired of hearing.

Doesn’t help that her thrashing to get you to stop is unintentionally making her ass grind against your pants, her short shorts doing wonders for your cock that’s slowly straining against your pants. 

Sakura manages to end it, one way or another. In this case she puts her entire weight on top of you, trapping you between her and the bed. She grabs hold of one of your hands, getting you to stop at least half of your tickle attack. With a quick swivel around, she faces you, her messy hair along with the crooked glasses that you’re surprised managed to stay on her face takes your breath away.

God, you could stare at the visage of her angelic features. A goddess, right in your arms—such irresistible pulchritude that you’re even lucky to breathe so close next to. Combined with the fond look on Sakura's face, the softening look in her eyes, the slight shake of her head that gets her hair framing her face. 

And that damned smile that gets you all the time.

“Do you have nothing else to do?” she jokes, straddling you properly, her grip on your hand loosening.

The fingers that are on her waist squeeze gently. “Other than doing you, not really.”

Sakura scoffs, rolling her eyes with a grin. “Needy and horny.” She leans in close, her lips inches away from yours. “Whatever will we do?”

“I was thinking if you can maybe, hopefully—” You raise your hips slightly, making her gasp when your erection is against her shorts. “Possibly help me out?” 

“After messing up my hat?” You take the chance to look down at what’s happened with her work. It doesn’t look that bad, though that's what your ignorant brain sees. “I should leave you blue balled for that.”

“I’ll make it up to you,” you say, your free hand resting on her thigh, thumb running circles over the smooth expanse under your palm.

She raises an eyebrow. “You don’t even know how to crochet, hun.”

You reach up to fix the pair of glasses on her face. “I’ll buy you new polaroid film?”

Sakura narrows her eyes, humming thoughtfully. Her answer doesn’t come out quickly, as if she was actually debating on whether she’ll take your offer or not. It comes with a mocking sigh followed by a chaste kiss on your lips. “Deal.” She tilts her head, giving you a smirk. “How does my honey want my help?”

“Well–” you start, already dead set on what you want, running your finger down to give her breast a quick squeeze. “These would be fucking amazing on my face, sweetie.”

Another roll of her eyes. “You and your fascination with my tits,” she comments, shaking her head at your antics.

“Are you complaining?”

“Of course not.” Pulling away to sit upright once more, her legs tuck under into a kneeling position, palms tapping her thighs. “Come on, hun.”

You follow her order, laying your head on her soft thighs while she pulls the flannel down her arms, the buttons of her top becoming undone enough to loosen the fabric and give way for her cleavage. You’re already salivating at the idea of what she’s offering, arm wrapping around her waist to pull yourself closer to her chest.

Your other hand reaches up, parting her shirt in the middle, that lacy black bra of hers an even more thought reducing sight on her than you realize. The exposure has you paralyzed, the one and only action you can do is let out a quiet curse at the fact that you’ll be drooling all over those magnificent tits, followed by—

“I fucking love you so much,” you blurt out, gazing up at Sakura’s smug face, the adoration bleeding through her eyes. 

“Love you too, you horny little shit.” The nickname gets you both laughing, and it’s such a stark contrast to what both your hands are doing that it’s a wonder how you two can get into these situations. Hers fishing your cock out of your sweatpants, yours pulling her bra to the side to expose the soft, mouth watering flesh underneath.

Her laughs become breathless once your mouth latches on to the pink little nub of hers, suckling on her teat like a baby. Giving them a little nibble as your other hand reaches up to grab hold of her other breast, wanting to give her as equal attention as you can. And even through all those layers, you’ll never get enough of playing with her chest.

Sakura isn’t idle throughout, spitting down her hand and wrapping her fingers around your length, stroking you languidly. It gets you moaning, your hips bucking up at her hand as your eyes close. The sweetheart that she is, helping prop you up with her palm resting at the back of your head too, making sure that you never leave her soft, warm, delicious embrace.

“You look like a baby,” she giggles, turning to focus her attention to your cock. She thumbs your slit at every stroke upward, brushing against your balls when she reaches the base, her fingers hitting your every weakness like she was getting revenge for your earlier actions. “Take your time, honey. I’m not going anywhere.”

The words only spur you on, getting you to suck harder, grope rougher. You’re in a haze of pleasure, the pink nipple you’re nursing tasting so scrumptious that you wonder how much better it would taste like if milk were to ever come out of her breasts. You can only let out a muffled noise at the concept, biting down on her nub.

Her strokes grow faster on your cock, cooing such dirty provocations watching you lose yourself. The seduction in your ear, whispering how nice and hard you are for her, feeling you throb in her hands. Her giggles are temptation symphonized, words of encouragement coming out of her in droves as you worship her. That’s it, honey, you’re doing so good sucking on my tits. 

Feeding you more fantasies at every groan you let out, thrusting into her hand in an attempt to chase your release. Growing desperate in her arms, your hunger grows ravenous as you suck fervently on her bud, with the only thing that gets you to stop was a one, simple possibility that she can turn into reality.

“I bet you want to fuck my tits so bad, don’t you?”

That gets you humming excitedly, head nodding, your eyes finally opening to be greeted with Sakura’s gorgeous face—flushed and warm and grinning down at you. You pull away, and if you could get on your knees to beg, you could. “Fuck, please.”

“Stand up for me.” You scramble, your feet hitting the floor in record time, Sakura sitting in front of you by the edge of the bed. She’s biting her lip at the sight of you positively throbbing, leaking precum because of her. “Already so close?”

“Me and my fascination with your tits.” You’re putty in her hands, jerking you off slowly to keep you wanting more. And more she gives, when she’s taking off her glasses and pulling her shirt off her head to expose her bra.

She makes a show of it, pressing them together to remind you just how deep her cleavage can go, of how big her chest is under all those layers of clothing. Baggy, fit, tight—all that doesn’t matter in the face of genetics.

“Starting to think you love my tits more than me,” she says, taking hold of your cock by the base. She gathers drool in her mouth, letting it trickle down her lips and coating your shaft.

“Kkura, sweetie, you know I love you a lot more than your tits, right?” you begin, hands resting on her shoulders.

“Mhmm.” She’s smirking, enjoying you squirm. “Your point?”

“My point is–” You’re interrupted by the softest sensation in the world wrapping around your cock, your words turning into mush when she slips your cock in between her tits, bra still on to entrap you in the pillowy hold. “Oh for fuck’s sake, can I please fuck the utter shit out of your tits?”

Sakura devilishly chuckles, pressing her tits together, the velvety embrace growing tighter. “Love you too, honey.”

You’re fucked stupid, and you haven’t even started fucking her chest yet. She starts it for you instead, fucking your cock on her breasts with this insufferably slow pace, letting another batch of spit down your cock, pooling into her cleavage. And the pressure is intense, thought shattering, god you need to fuck them—

Your hips thrust up, making your tip peek up her breasts. That alone gets your thighs to tremble at the sensation, and you’re biting your lip in a feeble attempt to delay your fate. “Oh my god.” Another thrust, and that unlocks the flood gates. “I’m never gonna leave your tits alone after this.”

“Not like you weren’t already doing that.” She leans down, pressing her lips against your head when you thrust up a third time, and you can only help yourself with a curse slipping out your lips. “Starting fucking ‘em already, hun.” Another dose of spit falls down your cock. “Or are you all talk?”

The pace you set off the bat is harsh; hands gripping her shoulders firmer as your hips snap upwards. The filthy grin on her face as you watch your cock disappear between her breasts adds to the entire sight. Her hands dig down harder on her tits, the embrace impossibly tight that every thrust has the odds of you cumming down her cleavage.

And Sakura has no say as to when you will. She’s given you the reins, letting you whatever you want to her breasts, looking delighted at the mess you must look like by now. You can barely talk, completely taken over by the need to chase that high, and she knows it. 

“Cum for me,” she says, those three words making you growl. Your rhythm goes erratic, and you reach up to hold onto the back of her neck. “Come on, honey. Paint these tits that you love so much.”

“Kkura, fuck–”

“Please?” It’s so innocent, the way she says it. Until the next set of words come out of her mouth, and all you can hear is pure, unadulterated depravity. “Need you to mark me with your cum. Want it so bad, please–”

You come down, taking her lips with your own as your orgasm hits, and your entire body is trembling. Your moans grow muted as the first spurt shoots up her breasts and hits her collarbone. The next few pool in her cleavage, a few strays staining her bra with your seed. 

Her tongue plays with yours as you glaze her, her hands coming up to hold you upright. Her chest follows your hips, moving up and down your cock, each pulse sending another streak of white across her skin.

By the end of it you’re almost slumped against her, your forehead pressing against hers. Your lips linked with a string of saliva, her breath hot against your face. You can barely stand up, lungs in dire need of air, the only thing that’s keeping you up are your hands on Sakura and her own on your hips.

Sakura leans up to plant a wet peck on your lips before she pulls your cock off from between her bra, ruined and stained full of white. “Look at that,” she breathes, looking down at the mess that you’ve created. “I’ll need to throw this bra away because of you.”

You let out a shaky chuckle. “I’ll buy you a new one.” You move to sit beside her, but the aftereffects of your high cause you sagging into the bed.

“Hun, please.” She turns to you with a playful glint. “You’ll just ruin it again.” Her fingers run down her cleavage, scooping up a dollop of your cum and taking it in her mouth. “Yum.”

Her gaze cast downward, toward your softening cock. She takes a glance up to your face, that playfulness turning dark before she sweeps down to take you in her mouth. Your legs jolt, the sudden sensation of her tongue swirling around your length such an overwhelming feeling. It makes you crave for it when she pulls away just as quick.

“Happy now?” she asks, all casual and smiles. Like you’re not dead on the bed and on life support.

“Ecstatic, sweetheart.” You barely have the strength to reach up and cup her cheek.

Sakura smiles sweetly, taking your hand in hers, her lips kissing your palm. “Want me to get some water for you?”

“Please,” you say, and with another, parting kiss on your palm she stands up—cum painted in her chest, bra utterly ruined, and completely glowing that make you shout out—

“Have I mentioned how much I love you yet?”

“Multiple times, hun!”

As she leaves to grab some well needed hydration, you can’t help but let out a smile.

"It's not going to work. Our menu has been exposed for months. Those posters we made teased our upcoming drinks. Tch. Cowards probably planned this months in advance." Chaewon says, squinting so hard you can even see them through the sunglasses she's wearing.

"But we have to try!" Yunjin claps back. We can't just let them take everything we've worked for!" She's wearing a blazer, weirdo.

"Hmph, let me do it," Eunchae says with pizazz. What is this, a spy movie?

"it can't be you," Chaewon says curtly, to Eunchae’s dismay. "But maybe…?"

Three heads flick to you, still in your normal casual clothing. "What the hell is going on? Why are the blinds drawn! Aren't we open?"

Chaewon slams her hand on the table, silencing you. "I told you 15 minutes. Try not to make an embarrassment of yourself first week as supervisor!"

Yunjin nods her head for you to come closer. "Bad time to be late, rook."

"Rook? I've been here longer than you! I-I'm your supervisor!" You say, but still follow her orders anyway. "And what the hell is going on?"

She picks up a folder with 'CONFIDENTIAL' stamped across it in big red letters. "See for yourself."

Eunchae tries again, telling Chaewon she's right for the job, and they trail off with their argument. You open the file.

"Baked and Brewed Seoul, grand opening… oh, that's in two days? Is that what all the fuss is about?"

The question draws Eunchae and Chaewon out of their talks.

"What else is in two days, Mr. supervisor?" Eunchae asks.

"Don't call me that!"

"Our new menu launches, Mr. Supervisor," Chaewon answers. "This is planned. Targeted."

Yunjin, the one you deemed to be the voice of reason for her… normalcy compared to the two nods her head in agreement.

"Guys… am I the only one who thinks this isn't a big deal? So what!?"

"We just got to someplace stable! Remember a month ago? We were about to shut down. Now Baked and Brewed Seoul is opening!? Where do they get off! Copying us like that!" Chaewon yells.

"Copying us? Aren't we just like, a regular ca—"

"Finish that sentence!" Chaewon challenges you. "Yunjin!"

"Baked and Brewed. Sound familiar?" Yunjin asks.

"N-no not really."

"What do you bake and what do you brew!" Eunchae yells. “Coffee and cakes. We’re Cozy’s Coffee and Cakes! Clearly, they’re copying us!”

"Are they? I mean, doesn’t every cafe have coffee and ca-"

"No!"

Look, is it a big deal? Maybe. Is it a ‘draw the blinds and whip on the blazers and sunglasses’ big deal? Probably not. But you've been here long enough to not question things. It's still better than getting face caked. So you play your part as they argue about what to do.

"It's simple! We need to infiltrate their ranks!"

"Infiltrate!?" Okay, maybe you're not playing your part, but you're trying.

"I can do it, General!"

"Since when is Chaewon a General?"

"I have a plan."

Eunchae is back in 10 minutes with: a long overcoat and a fake mustache.

"What the hell is this?" You ask.

Chaewon and Yunjin stare at it, deep in thought.

"Our disguise," Eunchae smiles as if revealing a key bit of information.

"Why the hell is it so big?"

"Duh, I'll sit on your shoulders under the overcoat. They'll never suspect a thing."

This is absurd. This is… definitely the Cozy's you remember. "Why do we need a disguise?"

"Because it's more fun. Obviously," Chaewon cuts in.

"Fun? What does this have to do with fun?"

"What's the point if it's not fun!" Yunjin retorts.

God. You might go crazy.

"No, no. Sergeant has a point." Eunchae concedes. “Maybe we don’t need a disguise.”

"Sergeant?"

"Then it's settled."

"Just like that!?" you reply incredulously

"It has to be him and Yunjin," Chaewon decides.

"General, please! Let me!"

"You and me are out of the question!"

"Why?"

"We've been staring into their windows like, 2 hours a day while they trained for opening. They'll recognize us an instant."

“Wait, what the hell is happening? We aren’t using this damn disguise, are we?”

---

It's settled, then. Seems that means ‘no disguise, you and Yunjin will go in normally’. Thank god, although you still don't think it had to be you and Yunjin, but yeah, Chaewon and Eunchae are insane for staring into their windows.

"Ready, Serge?" Yunjin asks from inside Cozy's.

You roll your eyes at the nickname, but nod anyway.

"Make them pay!" Eunchae yells from behind the counter, making coffees for the short line of customers.

You both cross the street, and there's already a line stretching onto the street for their grand opening. Already, Yunjin notes their storefront is more appealing. Posters in the glass windows, a little logo a coffee mug stamped on everything.

By the time you're past the threshold of the door, the line has grown even longer.

"Were you guys this busy when you first opened?"

"No, I don't think so. Me and Eunchae got hired not too long after we opened, but it was pretty dead back then. Until you came, really."

"So I'm tasked with saving Cozy's again, huh."

"Is it really that big a deal though? I get it, it's not great for business, but cafes are one of the most common places. Is this really a threat to the store?"

"See for yourself," Yunjin pushes the door open.

You're instantly hit with the rich aroma of coffee, but also warmth. It's not the clean aesthetic of Cozy's. There's warm light spilling from antique looking lamps, the glowing fireplace in the corner roars, there are fluffy couches and wooden tables of all varieties, like each section of the cafe has a different vibe. A small bookshelf erupts in one corner, and chess set in the other.

If you're being honest, it's the type of place you'd go to to just, chill.

"Shit."

"Shit," Yunjin agrees.

There are already 3 workers moving with practiced precision, steaming milk with ease, counting cash at the speed of a gun.

You being you, of course, notice something else.

"Stop glancing at them! You'll blow our cover!"

"I-I'm not glancing."

Yunjin eyes you suspiciously. "I feel like I've seen that look before."

"What look?"

"That look."

"I'm not giving them any loo-"

"Welcome to Baked and Brewed Seoul, may I take your order?"

She's short, shorter than Eunchae or Yunjin, even Chaewon by a bit. She has a bright face, even brighter smile with cheeks that would probably be as fun to pinch as Chaew—

"We'll take 2 of your lavender honey lattes and a slice of your cheesecake please," Yunjin says in an equally bright voice, but makes a point to emphasize the words to snap you out of it.

You go through the motions, Yunjin paying with the company card ("When did you get a company card? Even I don't have one!), giving the name for the order, and sitting down.

"You falling in love aside, these are really comfy couches," Yunjin says, plopping down next to you.

"They are. Like, really comfortable."

"Try," she says, handing you the latte.

You take a sip, and that first hit of espresso hits you, warm, nutty, rich, followed by the sweet aroma of honey and lavender, and you can't help but close your eyes as it washes down your throat.

"Fuck."

"Good?"

"You try it."

Yunjin omits a similar reaction as she sips the coffee, and an unholy gasp of refreshment comes after.

"Yeah."

You put your coffee down trying your best to look worried, but honestly, it's a really nice cafe. It's like all your stress washed away at the door.

Yunjin probably feels it too, the way she's melting into the couch.

"Should we try the cake?" you ask.

"You go first."

You pick up the plate, inspecting it. It looks pretty. You take the spoon, scooping up a piece and popping it into your mouth.

You smile.

"What? Oh god, is it delicious? Gimme some! I mean, no, throw it out!"

"No, Yunjin!" you exclaim, mouth full of cake. "We got them beat here."

"You're not understanding, we have better cakes than them!"

"That's not enough," Chaewon sighs. "It sounds like the whole ambience of their cafe could put us out of business." She buried her face into her hands, pinching her visage. "What about their drinks?"

"Pretty damn good."

"And their menu? Lots of selections?"

"Oh actually… I'm not too sure."

"What do you mean 'not to sure', what did I send you over there for? Tch. And their size? How many people can they sit?"

"Errr, maybe like, I don't know, a couple dozen?"

"‘I don't know’ this, ‘maybe’ that, did you do anything useful?" Chaewon scolds. "How about their service?"

"It was… good," you admit.

"He fell in love," Yunjin teases. "That's why he can't answer your questions."

"With who?"

"With who?"

Chaewon and Eunchae of course.

"I did not fall in love!"

"Yes you did, you couldn't take your eyes off of her!"

"Who was it?" Eunchae begs.

"Psh, idiot cow falls in love with anything he sees," Chaewon rolls her eyes.

"Who was it!?"

"You know, I think I recognized her," Yunjin thinks. "Wait— wait hold on," she pulls out her phone, frantically searching.

"I knew it!" she says after a short while

"What?"

"I freaking knew it!"

"Who is she?"

Yunjin turns her phone, revealing an Instagram profile with over a hundred thousand followers. It's the same girl who took your order.

"Her?" Chaewon says shocked.

"Who is that?" Eunchae asks.

"She's like, a coffee expert. She makes latte art content, home coffee brewing, she has a whole page dedicated to it!"

"You weak willed cow! I knew it! You're the type to oogle like a chimp at any cute girl!"

"She is pretty though," Eunchae lets up.

"You fell in love with Pham Hanni!" Yunjin laughs.

"I'm not in love!"

"Stop defending yourself! It's decided, my own supervisor is a dope!"

Again, maybe you liked it when there was turmoil with the girls. When everything’s okay, things like this happen. And you're sure of it, you weren't staring. You weren't. And Yunjin just stands there, laughing at the chaos of it all.

"Guy like him probably wants the cafe to succeed."

"First they steal our customers, what, are they gonna steal our cafe cutie too!?" Eunchae cries.

"I'm not going anywhere!"

"Prove it!"

"I'm here! At Cozy's with you all! It's like my second home!" You're crying, grasping at anything to defend yourself, but you're not lying. It's one of your most genuine statements.

At the very least, they take it that way too. Eunchae smiles all big, Chaewon gets flustered, muttering something about how 'we like you too, I guess', and Yunjin just sits back, nodding.

"Listen, yeah she was fairly pret— err, I was just pretending to be a doting customer, you know, playing my role for the mission! But I'm here now. And I'm gonna help Cozy's win!"

They deem it truthful, and the focus is back on plans and action. The steps you're going to take to keep Cozy's afloat.

The effects of them opening are noticeable, yeah, but you're still getting customers. Eunchae even has to leave the kitchen where you were gossiping to deal with customers ("Unnie, please! I just served everyone, let me stay here for a bit longer!")

"Hey, why don't we talk to the owner?" Yunjin suggests. "You know, it's been pretty busy lately, I'm sure they'd let us spend some money for some improvements."

"Yeah, I was thinking of that," you agree. "What if we installed a sound system so we could play music throughout the store?"

"Oh, and we can add some plants, maybe a mirror and some shelves, something to liven the place up a bit?"

"Who is this owner anyway?" You ask.

It looks like a ghost punted a little ghost football through Chaewon's soul.

"What's wrong?"

"Definitely not," her face drops. “We aren’t asking the owner…”

"What, why?"

"It's out of the question!"

Yunjin sighs. "Well, if we don't have a budget, we might just fizzle out. Then BBS wins. If only we had rich friends."

"BBS?"

"Baked and Brewed Seoul."

"Oh," you sigh. "Well, unfortunately, we don't know anyone ri—"

You and Chaewon face each other. "Liz!" You say in unison.

"Liz? Who's Liz?"

"That girl that always comes in. We're like, kind of friends right? She loves this place. She might just invest." Chaewon grabs some fruit from the fridge to prep, indicating the decision has been made.

"She hasn't been here in a while though," you noted, unwilling to concede you know exactly where she lives, "are we just going to wait until she comes in again? Who knows when that will be."

Chaewon smiles. "Don't worry, my dear supervisor. We're Instagram friends!" She abandons the fruit, pulling her phone out, and with a couple of taps, she turns the phone to you and Yunjin.

[_chaechae_1]

Liz! So, we have some ideas for the shop. Would love to hear your opinions as a customer.

The response comes immediately.

[liz.yeyo]

Would love the hear them ;)

Come by tomorrow, you're boy friend knows where I live.

"Boyfriend?" Yunjin gasps.

"How do you know where she lives?" Chaewon (also) gasps.

"There's a space between boy and friend, thank you very much!" you (also also) gasp.

You don't really have a valid answer for why you know where she lives, other than she blindfolded and fucked you on her couch while telling you to think of Chaewon.

"Have you been there?" Yunjin asks curiously.

"Yeah, you cow, have you?"

"I, uhh, I may have walked by her place once."

"Walked past?"

"Y-yeah, just randomly."

Chaewon's lips go into a line, as if weighing your answer. "Fine," she eventually decides. "Take me there tomorrow."

---

"Well, we can't just barge into her house and ask her for a loan. That's insane! We need a plan."

"You should've told me that yesterday! I thought you had everything under control."

"You useless supervisor!" Chaewon jogs to catch up to you as you cross the street. "What were you doing last night, huh?"

"Budgeting! Exactly what you asked me to do!"

Chaewon's demeanor changes into something jolly. "Ehehe~ I took a bath and slept for 10 hours."

"I'm so glad," you say sarcastically, but it's anything but. It's the reason you put up with this supervisor job. If it means at all Chaewon can finally have her rests days after months of overtime, and hours working just to keep the store afloat, you'd take on 10 times the work. "Well, should we get her a gift then… rich people like gifts, right?"

"Everyone likes gifts."

"Yeah, but what if we bring her some pastries from the shop. That seems appropriate, no?"

"Yeah, actually. Not so useless after all, are you, Mr. Supervisor? We can stop by the store on our way."

"Yeah. Uhh, how do we approach asking her then? Just 'cause she's rich doesn't mean she'll give us a loan."

"Let's just appeal to the business woman in her."

"Is she a business woman? Last I checked—"

"Last you checked, what?"

"Err, nothing. Sure. We can frame it like, she can help scale the company. Like an investment."

"Great, so we figured out 'we're going to ask Liz to invest'. That's literally our whole premise."

"You were the one who suggested the business thing!"

"I say we just wing it!' Chaewon lights up. "I have a good feeling about today."

You on the other hand, couldn't shake the sinking feeling in your stomach, but maybe that was just Liz.

It's the first time you've seen Liz in a while, and you want to run away. Her piercing eyes find you, and that sly smile takes shape as her eyes scan you and Chaewon. You've always been conscious of you two around Liz, all the way back to your first time meeting her, when she walked in on you massaging Chaewon's back.

It doesn't help that her dimple has magic powers. Well, it's not like you have hard proof, but you're sure it's up to something.

She pulls Chaewon into an all too friendly hug, winking at you while her arms are wrapped around her, and you think, even though she's not in her elegant getups like she usually is - just a hoodie and some sweats right now - that maybe you don't have to worry. This is Liz. Her and Chaewon have always had some semblance of connection, maybe you could use that to your advantage when asking her to invest.

She brings you up to her penthouse, and the look of awe on Chaewon's face is similar to yours when you first saw it; the centrepiece fountain in the middle of her fountain, all the art pieces scattered around, the pristine marble floors. You feign the same shock trying to keep up with the illusion that you've never been here before.

She leads you to a room you've never been in before, a living room of sorts where she invites you to sit on a grand couch, more comfortable than any you've ever seen.

She sits on a closeby armchair. "So, how can I help my two favourite baristas?" all velvety and luxuriously.

You and Chaewon catch each others eyes, and with a nod, she stiffly places a box of desserts onto the coffee table between you. "I hear you like our chocolate mousse! We brought you some and a couple other things," Chaewon says, and it's slightly odd hearing her customer service voice outside of work.

She shakes her arms in excitement, opening the box. With the pleasantries out of the way, and sensing Liz is clearly in a good mood, you nudge Chaewon with your elbow. "We were also wondering, so uhh, yeah…"

"What?" Liz laughs, looking at you.

Shit, you're bad at this. And that damn dimple isn't helping you feel any calmer.

"What my supervisor means to say," Chaewon clears her throat, "is we want to… make Cozy's a better place."

Liz takes a bite out of a chocolate croissant, chewing slowly. "I think Cozy's is already a wonderful place." It's really quite genuine.

"Well, we want to make it better." Chaewon's demeanor changes into something more serious, and she leans forward. "But to do that— to do that we need money."

It's Liz's turn for a demeanor change, and you don't know if it signals something good. Her face straightens, she leans forward a bit like she means business.

"So, you're here for?" You've never seen Liz like this. She's usually smiling, using that dimple to control, but now, with her eyes are scanning as you ask her for her money, you think you'd rather have the dimple back.

"An investment," Chaewon says with equal conviction.

Liz's face remains, but underneath it, maybe in her eyes you can see amusement. Still, she leans back in her chair, crossing her arms. "And what exactly am I investing in?"

"Cozy's."

"Cozy's, huh. How much do you want?"

"40 million won."

Liz's eyes narrow. She shifts in her armchair probably worth double that. "That's a lot of money to invest in a small coffee shop. What do you make a month?"

"60."

There's a sort of tension in the air, and you don't know what to make of it. Whether it's a bad thing or a good thing, you don't know.

"The store, it's still been busy after that cake fiasco?"

"You saw that!?" you yelp.

Chaewon silences you with a hand on your shoulder. "It's steady now. But it's not enough."

Liz finally smiles. "See Chaewon, I love to invest. But not in businesses. In people—"

"We're good people to invest in."

Her dimple comes out even more now. "You, I can tell. You mentioned he was a supervisor now?" Liz nods to you.

"He is."

"And yet he's been sitting here, lost the whole time. Do you believe in him?"

Chaewon stands. "More than anyone."

The words take you by surprise. All the teasing and scolding Chaewon gives you, you never thought she'd afford you that level of praise.

"Then let's test it. Like I said, I invest in people."

"Invest in me," Chaewon asks. It's bridled with passion, a promise she knows she can fulfill. But it is evidently not enough.

"One person can't run a cafe. It takes a team, and it's time for him to prove himself. Mind if I speak with him alone for a while?"

Chaewon sighs, but turns to you, nodding with a confidence you're not sure you deserve.

"Make yourself at home, then. I'll come find you when were done."

The echoes of Chaewon's footsteps are like drums celebrating your end. You can feel beads of sweat form on your head. It's all up to you now, and you don't know what awaits you.

What awaits you is a smile. And then a laugh. And then that fucking dimple staring at you (have you mentioned you’re scared of her dimple?).

"Uhh, Liz?"

"Well, I was wrong. You two could get even cuter."

"What?"

"Don't you see?" she laughs, "this is perfect! I pretend to test you, decide 'yeah, you deserve the 40 million', and you become the hero!"

"Wait, what? So, you'll give us the money?!"

"Of course I will. You both are just so adorable for coming in here all nervous asking for 40 million. Hell, I'll give you 60!"

Your head is still woozy. "I— I don't understand, why'd you want to speak to me alone?"

Liz stands up, scooting lazily beside you. "Because then Chaewon will think: 'Oh, my supervisor is so reliable'!"

"Again with this! I told you, there's nothing going on with me and Chaewon!"

"Oh really?" She stretches the words, raising her eyebrows. "Didn't you admit last time that 'she's so damn perfect'? Specifically, perfect while you fucked her?"

Oh right, you told Liz you've had relations with both Eunchae and Chaewon. To be fair, you were blindfolded, scared, and more than a little turned on at the time.

"Ohhh, she's gonna be so excited when she thinks you nailed it! You might even fuck again~"

"What the hell is wrong with you!" you yell.

"Oh honey, a lot. I'm rich, remember?"

Realization suddenly hits you. Although, maybe her motives were a little bit… outlandish, you were still walking away with this with your coveted investment! "Oh, thank you Liz! I'll go get Chaewon and let her know."

"Uh uh uh~~" Liz wags her finger. "I wasn't lying when I said I invest in people." Her eyes flick up and down your body, and a hand slides into her hoodie pocket, taking out the same blindfold she used last time.

"Do you just keep that on you?" You yelp, recoiling backwards.

"Oh, fine, no blindfold. You know the rules though, remember?" she slowly crawls to you on the couch. "My name is the safe word, and no looking at me in the eyes. Unless of course, you don't want your money?" She says, curling her lips into an obviously feigned frown.

You lean back, crawling away. Fuck. This Liz girl set a trap, luring you back into her house, and then, you sprung it.

She springs on you, trapping you on the couch. You almost look her in the eyes. In fact, she's looking at you in your eyes, so you don't understand for the life of you why you're not allowed to do the same. You can feel her lithe body against you, and you remember how god damn tight she felt around your cock.

No, you're doing this for Chaewon. Yeah, you're so strong willed that you're going to fuck this girl for Chaewon. At least that's what you tell yourself when she leans in close and whispers: "I'm not wearing anything under this hoodie".

Her familiar citrusy and obviously expensive perfume hits your nose, but you don't pay much attention because she takes your lips in hers. You almost forget that you're doing this for Chaewon, because you accept them with reckless abandon.

Remember, this is Liz, though, so you're not stupid enough to think you're ever in control. Her tongue finds yours and there's nothing behind it, no pretense other than she wants to play with you.

She's in between your legs, pressing her hips against your growing cock when you buck up.

She detaches her lips from yours with a smirk. "Mmm~, someone's eager. Been a while for you and Chaewon? Oh, please, wipe that look off your face, I'm just teasing you, now let's get this out of the way," she says, lifting your shirt off of your head.

You moan pathetically, and you can only hope Chaewon has taken up Liz on her offer to make herself at home, and that she's not waiting outside the room, privy to all the noises you're making.

The thought is wiped from your brain however, when Liz, all sultry, looks at you and says: "would you like to take off my hoodie?"

This has all happened so fast, but honestly, after all the months in these salacious situations with these girls, you're used to it. You nod your head sheepishly.

She props herself up, taking your arms by the wrist and bringing them to the hem of her sweater. You almost look into her large inviting eyes, but stop yourself at the last moment.

You pull the garment up, a little too fast, and she slows you down with a hand on your wrist.

"Slow down, honey."

Actually, you'd rather make this fast, but you guess you've done the deed with Chaewon right next to you, so this isn't exactly the most precarious situation you've been in. You're too stunned to speak anyway, so you slowly lift the sweater off of her, revealing her silky white skin, climbing up to her impossibly pretty nipples, already hard.

The tightness of it all, her lithe form, it drives you over the edge. You lift it up, and like the sweater, you drop, limp, stunned at the girl in front of you.

She hangs over you, controlling smile still dictating you. Until, she closes the gap, tongue poking out of her mouth before she brings it to your nipple.

Your breath hitches in your mouth, and your hands instinctively go to grab her hair. You stop yourself, unsure if it's against the rules, but when her tongue flicks your nipple harder, sending pleasure through your chest, you grab it anyway.

She doesn't seem to mind, switching from nipple to nipple softly.

Your cock is straining in your pants, and Liz props herself up.

Even with her hair slightly frizzy, she looks divine, unflushed.

You, on the other hand, are huffing and puffing. She grabs your pants by the waistband, mirroring that slow, teasing way of undressing that she forced upon you, sliding it down until your stiff cock is revealed with a pop.

Maybe you were wrong about fucking Liz again, because by the look in her eye, she has no plans to give you anything you want.

"Ready to earn your money?" She doesn't say it maliciously, doesn't say it like you're some street whore, but it has the same effect, probably.

Her hand wraps around you, and it's a bit cold, but only because how fucking stiff and hot your cock is.

"So much precum, maybe I was right when I said it's been a while, hmm?" She's not right, but when she lathers the precum on her hand and brings her palm to lips, licking it, nothing but strangled moans escape your mouth.

Her hand is back on your member, now coated in her saliva. The feeling is indescribable, her strokes are practiced, measured, as if any misstep would cause her to lose control.

"Nngh." Her hand is working you to squirms, her thumb rubbing over your tip in careful motions.

It's getting faster, getting harder to remain still, so hard you're gripping probably two thousand dollars worth of sofa cushion in your hands and closing your eyes in focus.

Every stroke is dangerous, every stroke could be the last as your legs tense. You don't know if it's for this reason that her hand leaves your cock.

You gasp, sitting up and opening your eyes, and of course, the dimple is staring back.

You don't look her directly in the eyes (as per the rules), but you can tell in your peripherals that the controlled look in her eyes is waning, like some untamed beast lies beneath it. You know it does, you've experienced it before. Her hand is still wet with your precum, and she carefully takes her sweats off, positioning herself so your legs are entangled, and your crotches are just inches from each others.

There's a slight huff to her breath now too, and she sits up, facing you. You can practically feel the warmth of her temple as she sits on the couch, and without warning, her fingers, still wet, pierce her sopping pussy.

It's a fucking sight, seeing Liz fingerfuck herself an inch away from your own throbbing piece, but she doesn't let you stop.

"Keep— keep going," she huffs, taking her fingers out. She reaches over and slathers a bit of her own wetness onto your cock, before plunging her fingers back in. "Stroke your cock or you're never getting that money!"

You don't need to be told twice. Her legs are so smooth on yours, and when your hand wraps around your own cock, you can feel her legs shake.

"You're such a good little simp for Chaewon, aren't you? Stroking your cock like that so she can get what she wa- wants," she says. "Y-you must really love her!" The words come out all high and uneven, and she shakes again.

Your own hand is working violently, the sounds of Liz's wet pussy, the smell of her sopping cunt filling the air, it's too much.

You're slightly worried about how disheveled you two will look once Chaewon does return, but it's wiped as pleasure rips through your pelvis.

Your cock strains as you approach release, and you need to see more

"Don't do it!" she yells, convulsing herself, but still staring directly at you. The little space between you and her crotches is soaked wet, and you physically can't obey.

"F-fuck!" you moan, releasing a torrent of cum, but not before locking eyes with her. She looks shocked, bewildered even, but she's still rapidly fingering herself. Your cum flies in arcs, scattering not only on you, but on her. She too convulses as her release comes.

You collapse back onto the couch, catching your breath, but your moment of respite is short lived.

You think she's mad at first, the way her sweaty body appears over you muttering. "You looked me in my eyes."

She hovers over you, hair draping, and funnily enough this isn't the first time you think Liz is going to murder you.

"You said— you looked me in my eyes," she repeats. Before you can close yours, she wraps her hand around your head, forcing you to continue staring into hers.

Instead of the anger you expect, it's that same crazed look, the one that craved pleasure last time, only now it's present tenfold.

Her lips are back on yours, and this time it's different, she sucks on your tongue with abandon. "Why'd you look," she laments through abated breaths and sloppy kisses. "What, do you want me to fall in love?"

You barely mutter a broken response before she snarls at you. "You'll be punished for that," she says, the look in her eyes growing more lustful by the second. She shifts, mouth at your cock and licking up every drop of cum you've spilt.

And then she's back in your vision, and the rules be damned, she can't help but stare into your eyes. Every time you shift your vision, every time you so much as blink, she gives you a squeeze, so you remain, lost in her gaze. It's almost as bad as her dimple. Almost.

She climbs on top of you, eyes still locked. You can't see what's going on below your chest, but you feel a familiar wetness wrap around your cock. Immediately, it stiffens to full mast yet again.

She's ridden you before, but not like this. Finally, her eyes break from yours, and her supple body bounces on your cock. She screams out, turning back to pin you down but working her hips faster and faster.

Turns out, all eye contact does for Liz is turn her into even more of a slut.

She's not a crazy murderer, just a crazy horny rich lady. Cool.

Not cool. You chance pumping up into her as she bounces, but she pushes down on your chest, signaling you to stop. All you can do is sit there as she works to her own release on you.

It's probably coming soon, because her walls tighten around you, hugging, squeezing almost painfully as she quivers, collapsing on top of you.

Her body is shaking and light, and your hard cock is still lodged inside of her quivering pussy.

You wrap your arms around her form, ready to pump even more, but in a surprising burst of strength, Liz straightens up. That elegant look of control is back on her face, and you know even though you're still inside of her, pumping now could signal your doom.

The only sign she felt even an ounce of pleasure is her rumpled hair, and the slight pant in her breath. There's even a hint of disdain as she looks down upon you, slowly sliding up to free your cock. It's throbbing, practically bursting, and when she looks down and sees, her smile returns.

"I think we're done for today," she smiles, giving your member one last pump. "Get yourself in order so we can go let Chaewon know."

Fuck. Maybe you shouldn't have looked her in the eyes. You know how… moody you can get with blue balls. You make a mental note to jerk off later tonight so as to avoid any… repeat situations, but still, right now in the moment, you bemoan your release unhad.

You find Chaewon, twiddling her thumbs nervously in the kitchen. You silently hope she doesn't notice your unkempt hair, and although you've dressed and did your best to appear presentable, you feel dirty. It doesn't help that your cock hasn't fully softened.

She turns to you nervously when you find her.

Liz has this bit, 'to build the suspense', she says so you both walk in with heavy faces, until:

Liz smiles. "Congrats," she says. "Your supervisor just secured you a 60 million won investment."

The look on Chaewon's face is pure ecstasy, and she runs, no sprints towards you, arms outstretched, voice ringing in the air and jumps. You catch her, just to stop her from falling.

"I knew it, I knew I could trust you," she cries.

---

It's a pretty slow morning, which is nice. The coffee machine whirrs as it heats, the oven humming as cheesecakes and pastries bake.

It's supposed to be you and the new hire, but Eunchae texted the group:

Eunchaehey stupid supervisor, this new guy you hired has been staring at every girl customer that's walked in

[Ms. Manager (scary)]

What?

For real?

[Eunchae]

yeah…

[Yunjin]

now that you mention it… I'm pretty sure he hit on a customer while you were in the kitchen last week Chaewon.

I wasn't sure but…

[Ms. Manager (scary)]

Fire him.

Stupid supervisor hired another cow, huh.

So, it's just you opening. No matter, you came in early and you don't open for another 45 minutes.

You're experimenting with milk teas now, something to expand your menu, so you're pouring tapioca pearls into a pot of boiling water when a knock on the glass window rings out.

It appears to be a girl, wrapped in a hoodie to presumably protect against the early morning cold.

Your mind immediately darts to Karina. She always loved to get snuggled up in oversized hoodies, and your heart skips a beat (in a good or bad way, you don't want to deal with at the moment). But then, you realize, it can't be Karina. The girl in the window is nowhere near tall enough to be Karina.

What, just a customer then? You've dealt with this before, customers looking to come early. You ignore them and get to prepping, but she knocks again.

You see a smiling face you faintly recognize. It's warm, welcoming, friendly, all of the damn above of someone you'd let your guard down around, and she's holding a drink with the BBS logo stamped on it.

You shuffle over to the door quickly, confused but curious, and opening it:

"Hi, I'm Hanni! Your new neighbour!"

Small picture.

A/N:

Guys i used to yap so much about my chapters in authors notes but now I don't feel like it #DEALWITHIT

"Quiet," Joonie whispers as she opens the door and leads you to the lounge. Inside, Xinyu and Yuki are on a couch, one on each side, feet mingling in the middle. You sit down next to your girlfriend on the other couch.

Hwiseo is out cold; you zip her pink hoodie up, and pull her blanket over her chest. You breathe in deep, then clear your throat.

"So... uh, you guys enjoy the night out?"

"Yup," Joonie leans on the armrest next to you, "would've been better if you were there."

"He's here now." Yuki chimes in. "So why don't we get started?"

"Wait," you interject, "you guys are all incredibly drunk. We can talk in the morning once you guys sober up."

"He's right. It'd be no fun without Seo awake to watch anyways." Joonie puts a hand on your shoulder. You lean closer into Hwiseo.

"Fine. But that won't stop us from having some fun," Xinyu says, crawling across the couch towards Yuki.

She grabs Xinyu's cheeks and pulls her in for a kiss. The sounds are beautiful and they're clearly trying to put on a show for you. It's working, and you notice Joonie eyeing your growing erection. You slide Hwiseo's blanket over your lap. A clear smile forms on Joonie's lips, something you spot out of the corner of your eye.

"You know you can't keep playing hard to get, right?" Xinyu teases. "You'll crack eventually."

"Yeah he'll crack for sure," says Yuki, in between kisses. "Hopefully me first."

Xinyu takes this as a challenge, pushing Yuki off her and sits down on the couch on the other side of Hwiseo. She nuzzles herself under the blanket the two of you were sharing. Her hand grabs on to your girlfriend's. She puppets it above your bulge, then rubs softly, careful not to wake Hwiseo up. You can't stop her.

Yuki approaches, then ducks down near your feet. She lifts the blanket up, and crawls underneath, in between your legs. Joonie snickers.

Your girlfriend's hand (piloted by Xinyu's own) retreats, and Yuki's reaches for your waistband. Joonie helps lift you up, as the lower girl pulls your pants and briefs down in one swift motion.

You hear a faint voice from beneath you. "Fuck. Seo was right about his cock."

"Guys, I- we shouldn't-"

Joonie shushes into your ear, her breath cooling the heat from the other women. She leaves a kiss on your cheek, making sure to leave extra saliva. She whispers, "relax, just enjoy it."

You look down at the tented blanket, Yuki says, "don't worry, it's not even cheating. Just pretend I'm not here"

Xinyu adds, "yeah, and I'm not even touching you," as she positions Hwiseo's hand on your firm cock. She folds her fingers around it, slowly starting to slide up and down. Yuki reaches up, finding your balls, squeezing gently. This gets a gasp out of you, but Joonie covers your mouth, masking the noise.

"Quiet. You can wait to fuck us until your girlfriend's awake, but let's keep this our little secret for now," Joonie states, pulling away from the wet side of your face.

"What if I can't wait?" The back of Yuki's head under the blanket rises, then stops right in front of the tent. "It's just... looking at me."

The three hands slip away, and are replaced by a wet sensation, just at the tip. This elicits a moan from you, causing your girlfriend to stir, "babe..."

Joonie latches on to Hwiseo's shoulders. "Go back to sleep, Seo." She grumbles in her slumber before settling down.

The sensations resume, the wetness falling lower and lower down your shaft, three sets of fingers twirling around your base and balls, and Joonie caressing your hair. She leans over, covering your entire mouth with a sloppy kiss. You nip at her thin lips, before her tongue invades your mouth. You let her explore; something you've always wanted to happen, despite the nature of her relationship with your girlfriend.

"Shit, I'm leaking." Joonie pulls away, before going back to laying on the arm rest. She pulls down her pants, spreads her legs, then leans into you. She grabs your hand, leading it under her panties. "Feel how wet you made me?"

"Damn, you guys really wanted to do this?"

"Mmhmm.." Joonie moans as you start to work your fingers. It doesn't take much effort before you slide right in, thanks to her abundant juices.

Xinyu speeds up the pace of her strokes, in turn making Yuki bob her head faster. You're reaching the end. It didn't take long, considering the four beautiful women surrounding you stimulating each of your senses: Joonie whispering moans into your ear, penetrating eye contact from Xinyu as she puppeteers Hwiseo, Yuki effortlessly and relentlessly vacuuming you into her mouth. "Stop. I'm gonna cum."

They don't stop. Xinyu jerks as fast as she can without waking Hwiseo up. Yuki slobbers on your head. Joonie lays into you, her face pressed against yours, with three of your fingers tucked inside her. You freeze as Yuki pulls off. Xinyu gets too fast to bear. You signal with a moan that you're ready, and Xinyu pushes Hwiseo's hand down to the base, applying unbelievable pressure around your shaft. You erupt, shooting into the blanket, in a series of pulses. The warm fluid flows down the sides of your dick, covering your girlfriend's hand in its entirety. Joonie dons a massive grin, watching the blanket turn dark, soaking up your semen.

Yuki slowly rises from the depths, hair tousled. She folds her arms, rests them on Hwiseo's lap, then rests her chin on them. Xinyu speaks first, "just so we all agree, I was the one that made him cum, right?"

"The fuck?" Yuki blurts out, "I was the one sucking his soul out down here!"

Joonie holds up a hand, reminding the girls to keep their voices down. "Either way, now we know he can keep up with us." She rises, picking up the soiled blanket, replacing it with a fresh one.

"But.. Joonie didn't get to finish-"

"It's ok dear, we've got all weekend. But for now, it's time to rest up." Joonie leads the girls, still bickering quietly to their rooms, leaving you and your girl alone on the couch. You pull your pants up, and snuggle up to her, clocking out for the night.

---

Your phone buzzes underneath you. When you open it, you're flashbanged by Xinyu's pink panties, framed by her pale skin. A short message follows: 'still soaking.' You get up, tucking the blanket under Hwiseo, heading to the kitchen for a drink. You pour a glass of water, and start to head back to the lounge, but stop when you notice your raging boner. You certainly can't go back to sleep with it, so you take care of it the only way you know how.

So there you are, in the girls' dorm kitchen, with your pants down, dick fully exposed. And there she is, the cause of your erection, in nothing but her underwear, waiting for you. "Thirsty?"

"Ye- yeah," you cover yourself with both hands.

"Don't let me stop you." Xinyu pours herself a glass of water, and leans against the counter opposite of you. "Seriously. Back to it."

She nods in encouragement as she crosses her legs, squishing together her long thighs, letting her mound bulge under her panties. You slowly get comfortable again, gradually stroking yourself, as she smiles. She tilts her head back, taking a sip, then accidentally spills water all over herself. She lets out an exaggerated gasp, sighing, "oh no."

"Where are the towels? Let me help," you offer, but she's quick to refuse.

"Just keep doing your thing." Xinyu reaches behind her back, unlatches, and pulls her pastel bra off like she's used to quickly stripping. Her small boobs fall out as she drops the bra to the ground. She approaches, points to your shirt, asking, "do you mind?"

You shake your head, then she lifts your shirt over your shoulders, using it to wipe down her body. She dabs it around her neck, slowly working its way down her chest, cupping her breasts in it. "Better."

Now dangerously close, locked in eye contact, she reaches forward, replacing your hand on your dick. Your hand moves from your crotch to hers, fingers slipping underneath her garments. You proceed to mutually masturbate in the dim kitchen, leaning into eachother, trying to mask your moans of pleasure. "You weren't lying. You are still soaking."

Xinyu nuzzles herself into your neck, letting out a soft groan, her body starting the shiver. "Fuck, faster."

Your fingers speed up, spreading her folds, the pushing into her, repeating the process, increasingly easier, and increasingly wetter. Xinyu tightens her grip around you, grabbing her own slick, using it as lubrication on your boner. She wraps her free hand over your shoulder, her extremely fit legs losing strength, as she loses composure. You support each other as much as you can while you both approach climax.

The two of you simultaneously release into each other's hands. Xinyu lets out a whimper as she convulses, and you pull her closer, masking the noise with your skin. Xinyu slows down, you release what's left, and hold on to her for a moment.

Eventually she pulls away from your embrace, unsheathing your hand, and picks up your shirt from the counter. Down on her knees, she wipes up the mess, then takes your hand and leads you to their bathroom. Xinyu grabs a spare shirt and tosses it to you, but you're interrupted by a cough.

"Uh. What're you two doing?" Yuki questions.

"He got up for a drink, but spilled all over his shirt." Xinyu covers for you.

"Yeah. Sorry to wake you guys up," you say with a meekish smile.

Yuki retreats with a furrowed brow, and Xinyu gives you a discreet smirk before you all head back to bed.

---

"Ready?"

You nod, smile so wide it almost lifts up the blindfold. The first hand grabs on to you. A familiar warmth wraps around your dick. The long nails, the tight, affirming grip; this could only be one person. "That's my girl. Too easy."

"I'd kill you if you got that wrong." Hwiseo withdraws.

"Practice round," Yuki chimes in, "now it's gonna get harder."

"Give me your hand," Hwiseo demands, "who is this?"

She leads your hand to a set of abs. She flexes under your fingertips. Such a firm tummy could only be "Joonie."

"Mhm," Joonie confirms. She backs off for a second. "Next."

A light kiss lands on your lips. Just a peck, so not Hwiseo, she would have smothered you in affection. They're soft and plump, and taste like cherry. "Xinyu?" you guess with trepidation.

"Disappointing. Still me," Joonie says with a frown (even though you can't see it, it's definitely there).

Shortly after, you're shocked by another sudden kiss, this time on your tip. "Fuck."

The lips fall deeper, accompanied by a tongue. She ends with a quick slurp, and Xinyu replies, "there! Now you know what my lips feel like."

You feel a girl straddle your chest as you lay back in the bed. "Open up," Hwiseo commands from the sideline.

The softest breast you've ever felt lands on your tongue. You pull it in, circling around the nipple as you feel her harden in real time. "Yuki," you murmur, still sucking. She moans with delight.

"Let's go a little deeper now, huh?" Hwiseo pulls Yuki off, and whispers something to the girls. "Hand."

You comply, and Hwiseo holds it open as another mystery girl sets herself down on it. She helps your fingers find the hole, and you slip right in. You've felt this before. "Xinyu!"

"Uhh.. yeah. But why'd you get that so quick?" Hwiseo teases.

"I dunno, her uh.. height I guess." You cough.

"I am the tallest," Xinyu says, patting your shoulder knowingly.

"Okay okay. Time for the final test." Hwiseo withdraws, huddling with the group. "If you guess this one right, you can take the blindfold off. Fail, and you can't fuck me for a week."

"Deal." You lay back and she returns with something in her hand. Hwiseo grabs your cock, holding it still, while using the other hand to put a condom on the tip, slowly rolling it down. It hugs you, and you grow warm with anticipation. The girls shuffle around, then one of them crawls onto you. Her thighs on yours, teasing your monument.

Hwiseo sits behind you, pulling your arms above your head. "No cheating. Just you and her pussy. You ready?"

"So ready." You exhale, and she falls down. Using her hand to guide herself, it takes almost no effort before you wind up fully inside her. It's the most welcoming feeling.

After you're acquainted with each other, she starts to move, slowly grinding herself back and forth. You can hear her cover her mouth, holding back her moans. Hwiseo's grip tightens, a comfortable amount, as the mystery girl becomes more erratic. The other girls help lift her up, before slipping back down your shaft. A small whimper escapes her lips, but not enough to recognize the voice.

You have three choices: Xinyu, Yuki, or Joonie. The weight on your thighs gives you a hint; it's probably not Joonie, she's too light. These legs have heft, she's putting all her weight in this. She's pushing so much force back and forth, digging into herself, grinding onto you. You've felt the inside of Xinyu's pussy twice, but can't determine if this is her. You can't reach for their hair, can't even smell them from this far away.

A name rings out, "Y-Yuki?"

She slows down, making more sensual movements, then Hwiseo takes the blindfold off. There Yuki is, riding you with all her might. Her short hair swaying just over her shoulders as she oscillates. Your hands are freed, and your first instinct is to reach for her boobs; you couldn't get enough from your earlier taste.

"I told you I'd be the first to fuck you," she says with a smirk.

"You did say that. And, fuck- it's worth the wait," you manage to spit out, amidst hefty thrusts.

Hwiseo is watching from the sidelines, completely enamored, while Xinyu and Joonie help Yuki ride you. Thankfully you already busted twice today, otherwise you wouldn't last another second. Yuki's pussy is sliding effortlessly along your shaft, and with the other girls there it's almost too much to handle. But you can't get enough.

Yuki's pace quickens to an almost impossibly fast speed, as she nears completion. One of her tits is gripped by you, the other is falling into Xinyu's mouth, and Joonie is rubbing her clit faster than she can ride.

Finally, Yuki combusts, with a long moan, and slouches over. She's left whimpering as you pull out, condom slick with cum. Joonie pulls her off, then Xinyu replaces her. She doesn't give you time to react before she's bouncing on it too.

"Give him a second, will you, Xinyu?"

She's impatient as ever, but you don't get to watch for long before Joonie's on top of you. With one knee on either side of your head, she sinks down on to your face. You give her slit a lick from top to bottom, before parting her lips, and entering her. She slowly rocks back and forth while Xinyu pounds herself onto you.

You can hear Hwiseo above you making out with Joonie, as a small dribble of cum rolls down your cheek. Your tongue's already tired, but you keep going, pulling her into you, trying to reach every place possible.

After minutes of riding, Xinyu reaches the same high as Yuki, bursting onto your stomach, then slouching over with a satisfied moan. Just Joonie left now, last one standing (or sitting rather). With the help of Hwiseo, you manage to push her to her limit, both of you rubbing her clit, with you taking light nibbles at her flesh. You cup your mouth over her entrance as she erupts, squirt coving your face, flying onto Hwiseo.

Gush after gush pours out, until you need to push her off for air. Joonie rolls onto the bed, you gasp, and Hwiseo wipes the squirt out of your eyes. "Holy shit."

Your girlfriend's not done with you yet. She pulls you by the arms to the edge of the bed, standing you up. "Now my turn."

She lays back, and you position yourself at her entrance, as hard as you've ever been. After holding eye contact and a brief nod, she yanks the condom off, ever eager to get you inside her. You close your eyes, and she pulls you in. You slide deep into Hwiseo, something you've done a hundred times, and still feels just as amazing as the first. She's gasps at your entrance, then exhales slowly once you're inside. You follow suit, then open your eyes, in awe of the four girls in front of you. The bed creaks, following the motion of you driving your cock into your girlfriend, as the rest of them play with each other. You grunt at each thrust, while Hwiseo gasps. Her boobs are bouncing rhythmically, as your hands grip onto her meaty waist.

She doesn't take long to reach her breaking point, after edging herself while you fuck her three best friends. She lets you know she's there with her erratic gasps, and you up the speed as fast as you can.

Hwiseo shatters, her cum flowing out onto the bed. You don't stop. You keep railing her through her orgasm. Her head falls back, as her body shifts along the length of the bed. Fully soaked, she lets out one more moan before falling fully apart.

"Hnng, where do you want it?" you barely manage to get out.

"Mm tummy." Hwiseo stretches out, giving you the perfect canvas. She grabs her tits, one in each hand as you pull out, and ready yourself above her.

You let out a harsh groan as you shoot onto Hwiseo's stomach. Your ropes land on her, cum pooling at the creases in her muscles, and her belly button. You get lightheaded as you unload, but you give her everything you have left.

"So hot." The girls coo from the sidelines. "Paint her."

Xinyu's earlier escapades and the 'group session' drained you hard, but Hwiseo always finds a way to milk the most out of you. After you're done, you switch places with Yuki, laying next to Hwiseo.

"Next time I want it all. You're gonna shoot on me, okay?" Yuki requests, as she gathers your cum in her hand, cleaning up your girlfriend.

"Fuck. Please let there be a next time, babe."

"Of course. After seeing how well these girls treat you, who am I to refuse." Hwiseo gleams. "Three orgasms in twelve hours? You'll fit right in with us."

Your smile drops.

"Wait, three?" Yuki questions. "I knew Xinyu was up to something last night!"

Hwiseo grabs your shoulder from the side, "I was awake the whole time."

You breathe a sigh of relief.

"Even if I wasn't, waking up with a sticky hand is pretty damning evidence, you horny fuck."

"That may or may not have been part of the plan, but it was hot as fuck." Joonie snickers.

You slip the straps off her shoulders. Her dress falls to her waist. She’s bare from the waist up.

The sun on her bountiful chest is the last thing you ever needed to see. You think you might cum without being touched by just staring at it. You stand at the foot of the bed and look at her and you cannot understand what you are seeing. Her tits are bigger than you imagined and you have explored that visual in your head so many times. The skin between them swallows light like no other; cleavage as deep as Mariana’s Trench.

Her nipples pink as the cherry blossoms of spring, erect like thorns from roses, and you have to grip your own thigh to stop yourself from doing something stupid.

“Stop staring.”

Words refuse to come out of your throat.

She laughs, soft as the fields of cosmos you used to play in when you were both young, embarrassed. “Come on, stop it.”

“I can’t—”

“You can’t what?”

“I can’t stop staring. I’m sorry, noona. I’ve been with you for most of my life and I’ve never noticed.”

“Come here.”

You approach her. You climb onto the bed and you put your face into her neck before you do anything else, because her neck smells like her, and you breathe in for a long time, and your brain malfunctions.

“Sohyun-noona.”

“Yes, my dear?”

“You smell like flowers in early spring, the first ones, the wet ones.”

“Oh, how romantic.”

“I want to put my face on every part of you. I want to know what your skin smells like from your ear to your ankle.”

“That tickles.”

“I know.”

You kiss her neck. The skin there is so soft you make a sound in your throat without meaning to. You kiss her shoulder, the bones of it. The hollow at her clavicle that you have looked at across the library table for years. You kiss the inside of her wrist that has rested on a textbook in front of you, and your cock is so hard in your pants, thinking becomes a chore.

“Be careful,” she breathes. “I bruise.”

“Good.”

“What?”

“I want to leave marks on you. I want you to find them tomorrow on the plane and think about my mouth. Please tell me I can.”

“…yes, of course you can.”

You suck on the place between her shoulder and her neck until a deep red spot blooms there. The sound she makes resembles the birds that flock around your garden; small and melodic. You feel her soft thighs shift on the bed below you. You stop and look at her and her eyes are already wet and her cheeks are red.

“You’re insane.”

“You make me insane.”

You move down. Her chest is in your face now and you cannot believe it is real. You take one nipple into your mouth and your eyes roll back. Intoxicating you like a poisonous nectar you’re willing to die for. You suck and you taste every note of musk, and skin, and scent of her that translates to numerous neurons activating and your tastebuds firing off signals that it has never transmitted before.

The tenting arousal under you is starting to hurt. Her hands find your hair and she gasps. You give her tit the time you have spent fantasising about it, which is a fuck ton. You feel her arching off the bed, she’s trying to push more of herself into your mouth and you of course let her.

You move to the other side, give that pillowy-goodness the same amount of attention and time. You spend so long on her tits that her hand goes from gripping your hair to stroking it, slow, like she’s the one trying to comfort you.

“You’re going to be here all night,” she breathes, heavy and labored.

“Oh, that’s the plan, noona.”

“Oh god.”

You move down further. Push the slip off her hips and it falls to the floor and now you can see her fully and you have to close your eyes for a second because the sensation is too much now. You open them. She is the most you have ever seen. You kiss the soft slope of her belly and you bite, not hard, just enough to feel it, just to know what her skin gives like, and she makes a lovely noise.

“Did you just try biting me?”

“Yes and I’m not done.”

You bite her again. You kiss her hipbones. You drag your nose down the line where her thigh meets her hip and your nose is full of her flowery scent and you cannot stop your hips from grinding into the mattress. You are still fully clothed but your cock has been leaking in your pants.

“Ms. Park Sohyun.”

“Yes, baby boy?”

“I’m going to be eating you for a while. Do you understand that?”

“For how long?”

“An hour or so, maybe more.”

“…okay.”

“Now spread those legs.”

She spreads her legs and you stop breathing for a moment.

Her cunt smells like flora in early spring and you can’t get enough of it. You shove your face there and you breathe in and you don’t come up for air for so long she has to ask if you’re still alive.

“Are you okay down there?” She asks while being almost breathless herself.

“I am doing better than okay, noona.”

“Can you still breathe?”

“I can replace this with oxygen for all I care.”

You lick her. You taste her and your eyes roll back once more. You growl from the ecstasy that lands on your tongue. She tastes like something you would walk a hundred miles for just to taste again. You lick her a second time and you start drooling uncontrollably. You don’t care, you stop trying to be a person and you let the animal inside you free.

“Oh my god. Oh my fucking god, you’re—”

“What?”

“You’re so good, you’re shaking.”

“I know.”

You stay there. You learn the topography of her folds with your tongue and find the treasure that sits atop of her cunt that makes her hips lift, and when you find it you make a small triumphant sound into her body and her thighs squeeze your head. You suck, you taste, your saliva mixes with her nectar and you stay there.

She cums and her whole body violently shakes from the intense sensation. Her hand flying to her face to muffle her moans.

You continue.

“Wait! Wait.”

“I told you I’ll be here for a while.”

“Oh god.”

You keep going, you lick the parts of her that are still trembling. You suck the small place that is now so sensitive you swear she starts hiccuping because of it. You drink the honey like it’s the only sustenance you have left on planet Earth. You think about the rest of your life having to taste anything else and you almost lose it from sadness.

She comes the second time louder, with both hands in your hair, pulling.

“You’re going to kill me.”

You make her cum a third time before she can catch her breath. You’re not doing it to take care of her anymore. You’re doing it because you cannot stop. The sun has dropped lower and blue hour covers the sky. The light on her stomach now coming from moonlight and you admire her like she is the most beautiful thing ever conceived in this reality. Words can’t justify how perfect she is.

“When you’re done with your studies, will you visit me?”

“Of course, noona. I’ll find a way to work near where you are.”

“Promise?”

“I promise.”

She goes silent for a long time. Then she takes your wrist and pulls you in for a long messy kiss. Your tongues intertwine as she tastes herself from your tongue.

You break the kiss, and you lower your mouth to her again.

You follow her order, sitting down on her gaming chair. Just as you get comfy with the leather making contact with your bare skin, sullyoon suddenly grabs your shaft. After a few quick pumps to get your blood running, she turns her back towards you, guiding your length into her entrance before she sits down on your lap. In one swift motion she buries you deep inside her, making you both moan in sync.

“Fuck that’s the spot.” Sullyoon moans. “Now just stay still Oppa, you’ll be like that until I’m done playing.”

True to her word, Sullyoon opens up Overwatch and starts playing, all the while your length is being cockwarmed deep inside of her.

With nothing to do, you rest your chin on her shoulder as Sullyoon leans back against you. Your arms wrap around her waist instinctively as she continues to play. Every so often, you would whisper to her some advice:

“There’s a guy on your left.”

“I think their tank is flanking you.”

“Someone’s waiting for you in the corner.”

“You should get to your healer.”

“I told you there was someone to your right.”

“Oppa!” She shouts, “I don’t need a backseat driver! Just sit down and keep quiet while I play!”

You raise your hands in response, letting her go back to her game before your arm wraps around her waist again.

For a few minutes, you follow Sullyoon’s instructions, silently watching her play while you’re balls deep under her. As you start to get bored, a light bulb goes off in your head. A naughty plan starts to form, and you can’t wait to enact it.

Kegels are a guy's best friend.

Or so you’ve read.

Helps with stamina, virility, also increasing length according to some sources. Also helps with what you have in store for Sullyoon.

You manage a controlled twitch while inside of her, and she definitely notices. A slight shudder goes through her body. Her hand shakes, making her in game camera nudge to the right. She doesn’t call you out yet, so you remain silent. After a minute, you do it again, and she reacts again. You do it again, this time only thirty seconds. Then again after fifteen. Soon, you’re just constantly twitching inside of her, each one having you rub against her walls. She still doesn’t say a word, but the subtle moans she tries to disguise as coughs lets you know it’s getting to her. That is, if the jolts throughout her body didn’t. All it takes is one random twitch that has you rub the right area, making her moan and shake in your hold.

“Oppa…” Sullyoon whispers with a heavy breath.

“If you want me to stop, Yoona, just say it.”

She doesn’t say a word. She tries to continue playing, but her eyes keep darting back towards you, waiting for your next move.

As much as you want to keep up the suspense, you decide to vindicate her patience. Your hands start moving, one traveling down to her thigh, the other sneaking under her zipped up hoodie. Both your hands find her bare skin, rubbing and kneading her thigh and waist. She doesn’t bother hiding her moans anymore (thank god she has her mic muted), but she still tries to put up the facade of focusing on her game. A futile attempt, since your teasing eventually has her break down.

Sullyoon’s arms start to relax, falling away from the keyboard and mouse and to her sides as you continue to tease her. The whole time, you’ve been letting your hot breath linger on her nape and shoulders, an added stimulation that you hope would finally take her over the edge. Your hands tease her even more. On her thigh, you massage slowly going up from her knee to just under her core before you abruptly go back down to her knee. For her waist, you build up your movements, getting close to the hem of her tank top before retreating. It causes her to get restless in your hold, desperate for your touch.

“Oppa…” 

“What’s that, Yoona?”

“Oppa… please…”

“I need to hear you say it, Yoona.”

Sullyoon pauses briefly before she turns her head to you, showing her pleading eyes.

“Please make me feel good, daddy.”

You could never say no to her.

Your right hand finally leaves her thigh, sliding over her outer folds up and down before you start rubbing her enlarged clit in circles. Your left hand breaches her flimsy top, finding her soft mounds in your grasp. You knead and massage her tits, holding on to her soft flesh, letting her hardened nipples dance in the spaces between your fingers before you start pinching and tugging on them. The combination of the two stimulations has Sullyoon moaning even louder, not a single care in her body to bother hiding them anymore. Her body melts into yours, her head resting on your shoulder, her arms and hands weakly trying to reach behind her and grip on to you. She’s squirming— shaking in your hold. You could feel her walls start to flutter around your length.

It amazes you how you managed to turn Sullyoon into a moaning wreck without even a single thrust into her. Just a few twitches along with your hands working on her clit and tits. 

Moans and shrieks start ripping from Sullyoon’s throat at a higher volume and quantity as you bring her closer to her climax. Her inner walls get even more active, letting you know that she’s just barely over the edge. Your hands continue working on her clit and tits as you decide to add one last stimulant to push her over the cliff. You use your chin to pull down her hood, along with pushing aside her hair before you find the soft skin of her neck. You let your hot breath be the only thing making contact for a few moments before you finally move in. Your lips make contact with her soft skin, kissing it, sucking on her soft flesh before—

“Oh fuck! I’m cumming! Daddy– fuck! I’m cumming!”

Sullyoon starts quivering in your hold, but you don’t stop playing with her clit and tits. You continue working her through her high as her walls start to violently contract around you, her juices gushing around your length and soaking both your thighs and her chair. You’d be lying if you said that it wasn’t edging you close to your own high. You continue to suck on her neck, marking her for god knows the how many-eth time, kissing on the bruise and licking it with your tongue. The moans and expletives coming from her mouth eventually devolve into whimpers, whispers of your name.

When she comes down from her climax, she melts in your embrace. From her reflection on the small mirror on her desk, you can see her face in complete euphoria, her hooded glassy eyes matched with a blissful smile. Labored breaths and whimpers escape from her mouth as she rests on your body. Under her whimpers, you can hear her whisper a singular plea:

“More.”

Fuck it. You pull off her headset and toss it on her table. You reach towards her desk, closing overwatch’s window before shutting down her PC.

You slowly stand up, Sullyoon still in your embrace, your length still deeply buried into her sopping cunt, and make your way towards the bed. 

You’re more than eager to grant her wish.

“I’m just surprised, that’s all.” You mutter through gritted teeth, she looks up with your cock half way in her mouth with an inquisitive look that requests further explanation. “You’ve shown very little interest in me outside of the occasional project and now you are blowing me, strange really.”

She frees her mouth, letting the thick globs of built up spit fall down onto your tip before stroking it across your length. “Well, you’re hot– never gave me much of a reason to talk to you though.” She says it like that explains this sudden jump.

Alas, she takes you deeper, sucks harder and stares at you like a piece of meat. “Isn’t this a terrible idea? You don’t have tinted windows, we are in the parking lot of the place we work. If the boss sees.”

The scowl is sharp.

“Are you going to let me suck this dick or are you going to keep whining and worry?” She’s visibly annoyed, “Or do I need to fuck the complaining out of you? We’ve got half an hour left, you are either cumming in my mouth or in my cunt. Though I’d make your choice quickly.”

You stare at her, mouth dry.

“How can someone who speaks so boldly to your superiors crumble the minute you have a girl waiting?” She mocks, still stroking you the look in her eyes. You are helplessly leaking pre-cum, completely at her whims and you can’t make the decision.

Gowon luckily is more than willing to.

“Get in the back of the fucking car, now.” You scramble, she gets on top after one more sample of your taste. Her pussy’s so pretty, wet and rubbing nicely against the side of your cock.

She sinks down and the first thing you think is trying not to bust, hold it as she wastes no time getting to work. Normally she hates working through her lunchbreak, this must be the exception. “Fuck, okay.” Gowon’s clothed tits are so close to your face, this angle has practically folded you into a lawn chair.

Instead of saying anything you lay there and take it, every thrust into her tight warmth. It’s heaven that melts away the worries in your mind, the only things left is the urge for her to get off and for you to get off. “You are so fucking deep, gosh.”

There’s room to contribute to this duo project.

So you join, thrust up into her– hit all the right spots as she slams down. The breathy moans are hopefully contained inside this car, though anyone could see Gowon’s bare ass and her getting railed. Though if you get caught and fired they’ll be understaffed and all hell will break lose.

This is all a worthwhile gambit.

“Okay, okay fuck, fuck, harder, faster, whatever!”

Gowon’s body seizes, comes with a moan dying in her throat. Getting tighter, sucking you up and trying to milk every last drop out of your balls. Though you don’t finish in her, sliding out as she looks confused. Yanking her head down and fucking her mouth, following through on what she wanted earlier. If you are her lunch she deserves to be fed, flooding her mouth with your load while you moan the loudest you’ve ever moaned.

She recovers first, slipping her attire back on and straightening her now completely ruined hair. “That was so fucking good.”

“Yeah, wow.”

“Maybe be a bit more assertive and you can see how truly good I can be.” She winks, looking around. Nobody was around, thankfully. “I need to go clean up before lunch ends, so do you.”

“Indeed.”

You have your pants back on just about when Gowon opens her car door, if the intense smell of sex wasn’t lingering nobody would ever know what you two just had. No time to shower though, “See you at work, maybe we can go for a smoke break later.”

That fucking wink, again, straight to the throat.

“We’ll see.”