GooseGooseGoose

Leehan and Sungho dragged you with a few other guys here after your sophomore finals. You wouldn’t say that it’s a chore, but there are definitely better things to do than get drunk. These two are the most outgoing guys of your diverse group. Meanwhile, you aren’t much of a social butterfly, preferring the more busy student council member life. Sitting in between them, you can only scroll through your phone to pass the time.

“To our grades!” Sungho raises his glass and looks around, inviting you and the other friends to join him.

“To our grades,” you say, barely able to hear your own voice before clinking your glass with others.

You chug half your beer, ready for a long night, your friends laughing as they do the same.

Sungho sighs, putting down his drink, and saying, “Thanks to Seokjin, or we wouldn’t have today, drinking beers and listening to music!”

All eyes on your table turns to Seokjin, the kind, quiet nerd of your group. “It’s nothing really, you’re my friends, and—”

“To Seokjin!” Leehan puts his glass up for another toast, while Seokjin scans around him, seeing all his friends doing the same, smiling. 

“Thanks, guys.” Seokjin says, as he raises his glass for a toast with yours.

—

As the night goes on, the music shows no sign of calming down. NewJeans booms through the speakers, interspersed with remixes of local songs. Alcohol has started to take hold of you, plaguing your inhibition with sharp tingles as you chug your glass away.

“Shit, I have to go to the bathroom,” Leehan suddenly says.

“I’m coming with you,” Namjoon follows. “Anyone else?”

Everyone around the table stands up except for you, and you watch as they shoot you apologetic glances. “Watch the table for us!” Sungho shouts at you, his voice struggling to carry through the loud music. “Use your student committee power to protect this table or whatever.”

“Fine, and I’m only a secretary, by the way. Don’t be gone for too long.” You smile, waving to your friends as they leave one by one. 

“I think Leehan is going to stay there for quite a while. I saw him heaving a bit earlier,” Seokjin sighs, worried.

Your eyes widen. “Well, I’ll wait for you guys here. Take your time,” you assure Seokjin, with him gesturing a thanks with a grateful smile. 

—

On the other side of the bar, another group revels as their finals come to an end.

“Jiwon, pass me the liquor, please,” Gaeul asks.

Jiwon holds the half-full rum bottle. “Gaeul, this is your fourth glass of the night. Are you sure you wanna drink more?”

Gaeul scoffs, voice already slurring. “Yeah, why not?” 

“Well, the last time this happened, I was holding your head above my toilet by the sixth shot,” Yujin adds.

“It will be different this time, come on~” Gaeul pleads, sulking in her chair, matched by her descending tone.

“Fine,” Jiwon huffs, finally passing the rum to Gaeul. “I’m not holding your hair again, though,” she pouts, with Yujin nodding in agreement.

“Thanks!” Gaeul pours the drink into her ice-filled glass before topping the golden liquor with cola. She glances around her table. “I promise, I’ll be the one who holds Wonyoung—,” her stream of thoughts is cut off, as she catches your presence not too far from her, alone, sliding one video after another, gleaming her with flame.

Yujin follows her sight to you. “Well, well, another freshman, huh?” She scoffs.

“Oh, come on, I never get to do this. God, Jiwon brought like three guys to her place in the same month before,” Gaeul deflects.

“Hey!” Jiwon reaches to slap her hand. “You say that like it’s an insult.”

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to,” Gaeul pouts, making Jiwon roll her eyes, smiling.

“If you want him, then go get him!” Wonyoung adds. “We may not have another chance in our senior year. They are going to kill us with those goddamn projects.” She takes a sip from her glass and contorts her face after that.

“You know men don’t like older women, right?” Gaeul turns her head back onto Wonyoung, who’s still trying to make peace with the content of her glass. “He’d say no.”

Yujin laughs, “That attitude is why you’ve brought no one back to your place!” She pushes Gaeul’s drink into its owner’s hand, pointing at her face. 

“Don’t live to regret this.”

Gaeul taps the table with her fingers rapidly, contemplating her approach. Her friends watch her hesitation with anticipation, until Gaeul retorts, “Alright, fine. If that’ll make you guys happy,” before getting up from her chair and walking towards you, glancing back to see her peers watch the scene unfold from afar.

—

It has been twenty minutes since your friends left. You are caught under the crushing weight of the foreign sounds and solitude among the crowd. Leehan is probably having his face in the toilet. And being the good friend you are, you bring up your phone to text Seokjin to ask about the situation.

Before you hit send, a sound comes from your right, catching your attention.

“Hi!”

You turn to see a woman with short, raven black hair standing before you. Her hand is holding a glass of what your best guess seems to be cola. Her nails are cut short and plain. She’s wearing a black cardigan that somehow shows off her lean curves. Her jeans don't make it even easier for you, leaving you with little to imagine.

“Is this seat taken?” she asks, bending down to hover her glass above Sungho’s seat.

“Hey!” You greet her. “Yeah, it’s taken. I’m sorry about that.” You plant your hand on the vacant chair, inadvertently touching her long fingers, eliciting a giggle from her.

“Shit, sorry! …Again.” You pull your hand back as you feel her warm skin. You can feel a small fire in your cheeks.

Gaeul lifts her glass to cover herself laughing. “Haha, it’s fine. Still, are your friends coming back soon? I’m kinda looking for… company tonight.”

It’s quite rare to find someone approaching you, let alone stating their romantic needs this clearly. Yet, it’s a bar after all; alcohol strips people’s inhibitions off here. And who are you to say no to this beautiful woman?

“Oh, sure! They are probably taking care of my friend in the toilet. Go ahead.” You gesture at her to sit down, as she moves the chair a little to comply.

“I’m Gaeul, by the way.” She offers you a handshake, smiling, to which you happily accept. Unlike yours, her hand is silky soft, 

“Hi, Gaeul. I’m from engineering, civil. What do you study?” You ask.

“Architecture! I’m just beside you, haha,” as she pulls her hand back and placing her glass on your table. The architecture faculty is bordering your engineering main building, and you’ve walked past it often during lunchtime.

“Have I met you before?” You inquire, squinting your eyes on you to examine her shadowed features.

“I don’t think so. I would have remembered you with that face.” Gaeul playfully points at your face, chuckling.

You chuckle along to hide the fact that she’s really influencing you with such an irresistible charm. “Thanks, I guess.”

“What year are you in?” Gaeul asks. “I’ve recently finished my junior finals. I made a lot of home models this year.” She rolls her eyes and sighs while recounting her experience.

“You are a year above me. I’m just a sophomore.” You answer.

“So, I’m your noona, right?” She giggles, tapping your shoulder softly with her finger.

“Yes, Gaeul noona,” you pout, placing your hands on your thighs.

Gaeul giggles, “No need, haha. Just Gaeul is fine, really.”

“Alright, Gaeul.” You smile along with her.

The night with Gaeul advances, while you quickly forget about your friends taking care of Leehan. You learn about her aspirations of being an architect, and how she also hates drawing to death. 

“And you want to become an architect?” you ask, baffled in such contradiction.

“Yeah, haha, I’ve always loved elegant buildings, and I really want to create them myself as I grow up.” Gaeul smiles, gladly sharing her wishes. 

She continues, “But when it comes to drawing, I’ve always had the feeling of having to perfect them. And that eats up a lot of my energy, really.”

“So, you’re a perfectionist?” you continue to shoot questions at her, giggling.

Gaeul laughs. “You can say that.”

She then tells you about the pets at her home, as she learns about your ambitions. And you feel like the conversation is sparking everywhere; it flows like the alcohol in your blood, suppressing your shyness just for her.

—

“Yeah! I just got my driver’s license a few months ago.” The clock strikes almost ten, over half an hour after your first words with her, and the topic is lingering on driving at the moment.

Gaeul takes a deep breath before gaining the courage to ask. “Hey, do you want to go back to my place?”

“Really?” you ask.

“Yeah, talking in here doesn’t give us much privacy.” Gaeul seems to be going all-in here.

Unable to bother yourself under these waves of songs you can’t sing along to anymore, you answer in a quickfire, “Sure! Where do you live, though?”

Gaeul points her thumb behind her, towards the outside. “Just across this bar. I usually have my friends crashing for the night if they can’t walk to their dorms.”

“Lead the way, then.”

—

“Well, show’s over, girls,” Jiwon huffs, seeing Gaeul guiding you out of the bar. “It’s the three of us now. Anyone you guys are eyeing on?”

Yujin and Wonyoung shrug. “Let’s just enjoy the rest of the night first,” Wonyoung says.

“Yeah.” Yujin adds and signals a toast, as Jiwon and Wonyoung join her.

—

Gaeul unlocks the door to her room before leading you inside. Her room is pretty tidy, aside from the lump of unfolded clothes on her bed on the left, covered by brown bedsheets. She has a few stuffed animals sitting at the top of it: some Care Bears, a cylinder piggy doll, with Shaun the Sheep gracefully sitting in the middle, and a few more aquatic animals.

“I’m saving up my money to buy my fifth Care Bear,” Gaeul says with a smile, determination sparks in her eyes.

On the opposite side, there’s a drawing table with a few sketches of buildings, showcasing her architecture works. You close the door and lock it for her.

Noticing the mess, she darts toward the bed. “It’s a little messy, sorry,” she says, picking up the pile before cramming it inside her closet. “I didn’t have time to take care of it when I was coming out.”

“I don’t mind, really.” You smile, understanding her struggle of doing laundry.

Gaeul smiles back as she shuts her closet door. “Where were we again?” she leans against it, giving you a questioning look.

“I—,” you pause, further taking in the atmosphere of her room. You find a few movie posters on her wall above the bed: Thirteen, Little Women, and After Hours are the ones standing out. She also has her Jubilee vinyl on display just by her table.

“So, you like Japanese Breakfast?” you ask, before she follows your gaze onto the album. You’ve never expected someone you find at a bar to listen to Michelle Zauner’s band, to be honest.

“Yeah, it was my sister’s before she moved out,” Gaeul answers. “But the album itself is pretty good. I pick it up now and then to let it loop while I’m drawing.”

“I’ve heard about its quality.” You tap your fingers on your thighs, eyes darting everywhere except onto her.

Gaeul taps her chin in a staccato rhythm; she seems as unsure of her next action as you do. The humming of the air conditioner lulls from behind her. She ponders for a while, before stepping towards you.

“You know the implications, right?”

And that’s it; the way she says ‘right’ tingles you in a peculiar way. Gaeul looks into your eyes as she does, eliciting an indescribable feeling inside you. Your hands shake as she closes her distance to the point where you can feel her breathing.

“May I?” she asks, lips just inches away from yours.

“S—sure,” you stutter out in front of this gorgeous woman.

Without further ado, Gaeul kisses you ardently. Her tongue doesn’t let your mouth simply rest on hers, as she invades your cavern to display the passion she has been holding. She cups your cheeks so that she can taste you more thoroughly. You moan at such a confident act right into her mouth, before you let your tongue wrestle with hers.

As the kiss deepens, Gaeul draws her hand down your neck, and you shudder in response. “Fuck, noona,” you utter through the connected lips. Your hands cup her face, letting her take control. And without initiation from you, her fingers sliding down your abdomen seem to invite you to engage with her under the same depravity. Yet, your hands linger on her facial features.

Soon, Gaeul’s hand works its way to your crotch, stroking your erect length through the pants. “Wow, all excited for me, huh?” she says, suppressed under the kiss, and you moan through the gaps, having your shaft fondled.

Gaeul breaks off from the torrid act, but her lips leave just a little distance from yours. However, it’s far enough to keep you wanting her more. She lifts her arms to wrap around your neck. “I want to ask you something.” She says in a whisper while looking into your eyes; her deep voice shakes you.

“Go ahead.”

Gaeul clicks her tongue a few times, glancing at the wall before asking. 

“Are you comfortable calling me noona again? I know I told you back in the bar to drop it, but seeing you being all obedient because of me is a bit of a…” She bites her lip as if to resist the inevitable. “…turn on.” She grins, unsure, not even believing the words coming out of her mouth.

You chuckle before answering without another hesitation. “Sure, Gaeul noona.”

Gaeul smiles. “Alright, baby boy.” She slides her hands down to work on your top button. “Let’s go to our main course.”

You quickly unbutton your shirt upward to meet her trembling hands. And quickly, your shirt is up for Gaeul to toss it away into the void. She runs her right hand down your chest. “You take care of yourself well, don’t you?” As her fingers tap on your flat stomach, hitching your breath.

“C—Cardio from time to time, noona.” You stutter out; fuck, this woman is burning your skin.

“Good for you.” She says in a deep tone, while her right hand is still feeling your midriff.

“Now, leaving you like this wouldn’t be… fair, right? Bare for me to—” The next word cut short for her to plant her lips on your nipple, tasting your body and eliciting a moan from you.

“Noona…” You are now lost in the pleasure; jolts after jolts from her lips rush through your body, making you shudder. Her saliva coats your nipple, and you lock your hand behind your noona’s head to keep yourself from falling over.

Gaeul keeps switching her suction on your peaks before she pushes you onto her bed. “I was talking about fairness, right?” She says with her fingers tilting your head down on your chin a little to meet her eyes. Her legs are straddling yours, keeping you in place.

“Y—Yes, noona,” you speak out.

“So, since you are half naked… under me.” She traces a line down your abdomen, igniting a fire in its wake. “You get to choose which half of me… that you want to see.”

You gulp, eyes wide. Fuck, this woman is really having her way with you now, and there’s nothing you can do to resist her seductive endeavor. Your mind goes into overdrive with the choices: top or bottom, top or bottom, top or—

“Every second counts, my baby boy.” Gaeul taps her bare wrist, grinning.

You swallow another gulp. “Your pick, n—noona.”

Gaeul giggles. “Well, since I’m a believer in justice…” She moves her hands to the top button of her black cardigan, ready to unlock it. “Say please, baby,” she says with her sultry voice.

“Please, noona.” You succumb to her domination. As Gaeul unlocks the first button, putting her soft cleavage into view.

“Please what, baby boy?” She continues her seduction; her hands are toying with the second button now. She pulls the neckline down to reveal the strings of her bra and the full view of the valley between her mounds.

“Please take your top off, noona,” you plead.

Giggling, “Alright, baby boy.” Gaeul quickly unbuttons the remaining locks, as her unending tease also seems to affect herself. Her toned midriff quickly reveals itself to you, decorated by the sky blue laced bra above, sending you further into a spiral.

Slowly, she strips herself off of her cardigan, your tongue becomes drawn to the thin string that holds two sides of the chest cover together. You can taste the hints of her salty sweat absorbed by the cloth.

“Fuck,” Gaeul whimpers. “S—So needy, aren’t you?” She tosses the outer garment away before pressing your head onto her. Being pushed even more, you map a straight line up the hollow of her chest with your tongue, causing her to moan out.

“Alright, I—I get it, you’re a—a tits person,” Gaeul cries out, quickly retreating her hands to unclasp the back of her remaining top attire. “This doesn’t mean y—you have p—power over me or anything, though.”

“Yes, noona,” you say through your licks, her bra falls off right between you two. As you pull yourself back to take a break from your appetizer, you are given the heavenly sight of her succulent tits. They are small, but you’ve never been the one to care, anyway. Her nipples are already erect, aroused as she expects the divine rapture from no one but you.

“You like the view, baby boy?” Gaeul chuckles at the sight of you salivating in front of her perky mounds. 

As an answer, you dive in to savor her excited brown nubs. There’s no particular taste to them, yet you’re being commanded by these peaks to satisfy her overflowing lust, making her a writhing mess right before you.

“God, fuck!” Gaeul moans out. You remain fixated on her tits, sucking on them as if your life is hanging on the strings of her cries. And to further stimulate her, you use your hand to caress the freed side of her frame. You roam from her shoulder to the waistline, squeezing her chest with each passing.

Gaeul, again, presses you onto her soft chest, yet she’s unable to let herself being satisfied just on the outside anymore.

“F—Fuck, shall we go to the m—main course, baby boy?” her words come out ragged; she can’t further shackle herself from the peak of intimacy.

You remove yourself from her nubs. “Yes, please, noona.” Gaeul pushes you down onto her bed, signaling you to unzip your pants while she does so. And within a blink, your erect cock and her soaked cunt are just a breath away from each other. She seems to be an all-natural girl too, choosing to let her hair grow above the canal, and that just makes her even more mouthwatering.

Still, the sex education lessons hold you back on the ground. “Do you need protection?” you ask, concerned about the prospect of unwanted consequences.

“I have my contingency plans, baby,” she huffs with a smile as she hovers her sex just above your shaft now, ready for the ride of her life.

With no words, you nod, and she slowly sinks herself onto your rod. You cry out as your tip gradually disappears into her. You pull your head back under the overwhelming sensations. “Fuck,” and you can do nothing but whimper.

“D—Do I feel good on top of you?” Gaeul asks, voice and her body shuddering in the descent. You are halfway inside her now. Her hands are roaming on your writhing frame, determined to push you off the edge even faster.

“Yes, fuck, noona. You feel so fucking good.” You’re enamored by the throes of pleasure surrounding your body. She slowly impales herself down to the hilt, fully coating your cock with her nectar.

“Fuck!” Gaeul’s tone becomes a scream now. She bends herself back, showing her fragile frame. Traces of ribs are visible under the room light, and her immaculate chest stretches for you to view.

Gaeul remains in the position for a while, before she drags her wet cunt off of you, just barely seeing your tip, grazing your dick with such an unbearable pleasure. Your length now glistens with her honey, but the shackling gratification lets you register only her up and down motion. And as she slams down, you can do nothing but moan under such divine elation.

Wet squelches and moans echo throughout the room, as Gaeul picks up her pace to quicken this perversion. She cries out in every movement, and you echo out every moan. Her short hair becomes really helpful in situations like this, since, with each bounce, they don’t seem to cover her face as much as it should. And you’re one lucky man to see her all invested in the depravity - every contorted face, every line drawn on your abdomen with her hands, and God, how her moan is a symphony you’ll remember for the rest of your life.

Inevitably, with each of her bounce, it drives you toward the precipice. Her angelic moans and the bouncing chest ramp you up closer to paradise. The sight of her riding you - mouth agape, perky tits bouncing, hands shuffling her strands to make sense of the pleasure, creating such an immaculate image - with the sensations around your cock is just unyielding.

“N—Noona, I’m gonna cum, slow down,” you plead, and Gaeul looks down at you, hands still locked in her olive hair. Her breaths become ragged, and her whimpers seem to scale up with each insertion.

“Me too, baby boy, me too,” Gaeul cries out. “Cum with me.” 

She keeps the moderate tempo she has been putting on you. Her bare, untrimmed, drenched cunt rams your cock with steady speed to keep your orgasms alight. Sounds of fleshes crashing into each other; an unyielding amount of Gaeul’s honey is mixing with the notes that come out of her gorgeous lips, creating a concoction that sends you into ecstasy.

And with one last thrust, along with you, Gaeul becomes a squirming wreck. With eyes fluttering, delectable chest heaving, wailing such a symphony that only a deity can sing. Her entire frame shakes with exaltation. You cry from the depths of your lungs, and the knot in your stomach becomes undone. Your cock shoots spurts of cum inside her, as Gaeul’s delicate cunt gushes out torrents of clear juice onto your crotch.

With each twitch of your length, they serve the purpose of unloading into her womb to the brim, and they shake you to sing out such a beautiful melody, joining Gaeul into composing an amorous masterpiece. Your nectar finds its way out to concoct with hers, pooling on your crotch. It’s a breathtaking sight, seeing her undone like this - juice spilled, wails unrestrained, walls contracting to drain you dry.

Gaeul’s climax subsides; her moans show signs of her normal voice again. “G–Good job, baby boy,” she chuckles through her whimpers. Her pace decreases, and you’re thankful that she doesn’t ride your consciousness out.

“You’re getting sensitive, right?” She brings her motion to a stop, but still enveloping your length within her needy core. It’s warm; she’s warm.

“Yeah, noona. You can–,” you stop halfway for a few breathers. “You can stay like this, to be honest.”

“Oh, my poor baby boy~,” Gaeul laughs. “We can stay like this if you really want it.” Her voice still carries hints of intoxication, yet you can’t deny that the potential of it being genuine affection entices you. “I’ll have to go to the bathroom first, though. I can’t sleep with our cum being everywhere like this.”

She bends down to give you a peck on your forehead, before slowly, agonizingly, pulling herself off of you. And doesn’t that make you whimper out, as your cock is still sensitive from shooting spurts of your seed inside her dainty cunt? The feeling of unloading still lingers in your filthy mind.

Maybe it’s a mix of all the sensations you’ve ever felt - mostly pleasure with pain. You moan out as she chuckles at the sight of you crumbling under her final touch. “Alright, baby boy, wanna take a shower?” Gaeul gets up from the bed before sauntering towards the bathroom. “Maybe we can have another round~,” she winks across her shoulder, before going into the shower.

“I’ll be there, noona,” you reply, as you collect your inhibition enough to take another shot of intimacy with her under the running water.

—

Sunlight peeks through the curtains, waking you up after the rough night, naked. Last night’s debauchery remains clear in your head, as the images of Gaeul commanding you around are still in high definition. You look around the room to catch your noona examining the contents of her fridge, bending over to show you her bare, plump ass, only slightly covered by her baby blue shirt.

“Up already, sleepyhead?” She notices you through the gap between her arm and the single garment on her. “I have some banana cake left, not expired yet,” she says before picking it up and surveys the package. “Yeah, a day left. You want one?”

“How much is it? Can you send me your QR code after this, noona?” The memory of you acting all-obedient shows up again, and you can only cover your mouth after that. 

“No need, ‘baby boy’,” Gaeul chuckles, pulling up an air quote, mocking the tone she used last night. “Consider this as part of the one-night plan.”

God, she looks flawless under this morning’s light. The way her short hair is messy; the tired eyes, and that pair of legs - the pair you wish to be caught between - makes you want to spend another day with her. 

“Can I extend my subscription?” you utter out involuntarily. The alcohol hasn’t returned your reticence yet, perhaps.

Gaeul considers your proposal for a while, nibbling her chin with her free hand, while tapping her feet with the cake still in the other hand. 

“Well, I’m not sure, really,” she says. “I have only known you for barely half a day, with the help of alcohol.”

“I know, Gaeul,” you groan. “But like, I want to know you more.”

“I don’t know.” She chuckles as she closes the distance between you two. 

Gaeul continues her interrogation, “do you, really?” Her bare, untrimmed pussy comes in at your face level. She changes her motion to crossing her legs forward, slowly, covering the lower part of her sex as she gets right in front of your eyes.

You drool at the sight, tranced, as your morning wood is twitching. Your tongue involuntarily sticks out, aimed at her nub, and you are magnetized to her cunt again. You are so ready to please your noona again, making her a drenched disarray before you, before Gaeul breaks your train of desire, grabbing your chin and tilting your head up to watch her smile.

“Alright, I believe you now.” She simpers with your tongue still out. “I’ll give you my Instagram before you leave.”

You sign an okay to her, as you retreat your tongue back into your mouth.

“Good boy,” Gaeul laughs. “Here, your breakfast.”

You take the banana cake from her. “Thanks, noona.”

“I’ll give you more than this the next time, if you can make me fancy you.” She lets go of you before climbing onto her bed to the other side, giving you a view of her luscious cheeks once more. She bends down to pick up your discarded, now-creased clothes, involuntarily (or not) putting her sex into display, and you can do nothing but let your length twitch at the sight.

You gulp at the sight, mustering the courage to ask out, “Really?”

She sits back up after her teasing act, legs crossed, but you can still see flashes of her. Gaeul ponders for a while, tapping her chin in the same veins she did before the explicit scene of you two.

“Definitely, maybe.” She laughs again, shooting the garments at you, and you can only join along with her.

—

As you walk back to your dorm, your phone suddenly rings. You pick up the phone, eyes widen. It’s Sungho, the ‘friend’ you left with no trace for him last night.

“Shit.” You utter before accepting the call.

“Where the fuck have you been last night, bro?” His breath is coming in shorts. “We were worried about you. We came back around ten—”

“I was with a woman; her room is just across the bar. I’m fine, Sungho,” you reply.

“Oh.” Sungho pauses. “Oh damn. Wow.” He’s left speechless for a few seconds.

“Yeah, and we—, uh—” You stop, contemplating on whether to tell him.

“No need, bro.” You can hear Sungho chuckling through your phone. “Who’s the lucky woman who takes your virginity, huh?”

“Architecture,” you play coy, withholding Gaeul’s identity. “And we trade each other’s contact just this morning.”

“Goddamn, you had been inside her, and you just asked for her contact after that? Fucking hell, man.” Sungho laughs again. “Well, we’re happy that you didn’t lose an arm or anything, bro.”

You smile before remembering about your sick friend. “Oh, what about Leehan? How’s he now?”

“Fine, he’s still sleeping on my bed,” Sungho affirms. 

You smile, and reply, “Alright, good, thanks for calling.”

“No problem, see ya!” Sungho says.

“See ya.” And you hang up the phone.

On the way back, the prospect of building your relationship with Gaeul reels in your mind. The probability of you two working remains shaky. Emotions might take hold of only one of you, dragging its victim into an unbearable sorrow. What if a crush turns into a craving? Either way, the shared moment of your bodies clashing into each other is going to be etched into you, and, hopefully, her.

And as you unlock the door, a notification pops up on your phone, and it reads as:

actualgaeul started following you.

They bark loud with a posture bigger than they are, and also (hilariously) flinch when you look them in the eye for a second or two. Sure, the term "delinquent" means a young person tending to commit crime, but it means nothing when they themselves understand when to back off, when to lower their voices, and when to stop pushing because of the bigger force in front of them. Ok, bigger force sounds excessive, but you don't need to fight (maybe a few sucker punches here and there). Mainly, you just stand there with back straight, flat expression, and the will of an iron fortress, then they slowly start to fold. 

Your school is full of fuckwits like that — infested with rusted lockers, cracked windows, and teachers who are too afraid to speak out. You could've picked any other school applicable with your entrance exam results, but wasting time commuting is not ideal when that wasted 30 mins can be used to finish a math exercise. The boys thought you're an easy target, especially when you join in the middle of the year, but now all you get are whispers and a respectable distance behind you.

(Something along the lines with "Don't fuck with him.", "He's weird", and "How to fuck he doesn’t trip while solving that damn chemistry book?" But hey, it sounds like a compliment if it means you don't get mogged — gotta be the bigger dog in the dog-eat-dog world, right?)

After school, you walk home alone, passing by the prestigious school that is a few blocks down from yours, with clean buildings, open fields, and students in their fancy vests and bags. And as always, you despise the fact that you belong to the former just because you are a few points short in the entrance exam. 

Whatever, living with Minji is the consolation prize. 

Her place is calm and comfortable in a way that it aligns well with your neat freak. Shoes lined up properly at the entrance, Dishes washed the moment after being used. Coffee smells waffling through the morning air. You like it. 

She has been like this since she first found you sitting alone in the library as your upperclassman all the way to being a college student, which apparently grants her the authority to sigh at nothing and still be taken seriously. And you have been living with her long enough that she doesn't even bother knocking your door. 

The bedroom is small and modest. The desk pushed against the window for maximum sunlight and vitamin D for morning studies. The lamp positioned just right to not glaring to your eyes for night. You sit there every time, proper posture, and doing mock exams until formulas and exam key notes are ingrained. It's quiet. Orderly. Easy to concentrate. Your future feels achievable here.

Well, maybe not 100%.

Because as usual, your studying comes with the screech of metal on metal. The window across from yours slides open. And here comes the menace that is worse than those delinquents.

It’s Yujin.

You don't even need to see that she's home — you just know when the smoke drifts in (which smells horrible). And the music comes afterwards — loud, bass-heavy, and absolutely disruptive. It rattles the pen on your desk, vibrates through the wood like she's mocking your effort. 

And then her damn brazen voice. "Ya, four eyes."

And every damn fucking time, the sigh through your nose is heavy. Worst of all, she takes another drag and exhales deliberately in your direction.

"Sit properly, bookworm. Your back is going to hurt."

"I don’t need your words, chainsmoker."

She taps ash out the window. It falls somewhere between your building, most likely on the bushes.

"Do you ever do anything fun?" she asks. "Or is it just study, sleep, and die from stress?"

"Just be quiet already."

By now, the delinquent boys would've listened and wagged their tails already. But not Yujin — she’s beyond a menace. Instead, she turns up the volume to another notch, and makes the bass punctures through the wall. Of course, she hums along, off-key, like the whole world is her oyster.

You throw your rubber to her window. "Turn it down. It's past ten."

This girl has the audacity to gasp out loud, acting like an idiot. "Oh my gosh. Did you hear that? He knows how to read a clock!"

"An Yujin."

She perks up at that. "And remember my name too? Good job!"

"Unfortunately, we lived here for far too long."

"Aw. You hurt me."

She flicks her cigarette away and folds her arms on the sill, resting her chin on top. And, fucking hell, she smells like smoke and citrus (the worst combo of smell imaginable). Who would actually believe that this same girl with lack of basic decency is on the news — something about 1st place in Women's sprint in High School Competitions. Not once, twice, but three times, a trait she still gets from middle school. Literally kickstart the sports department at her new sparkly pretentious school (or whatever she puffed to your face). No wonder she's still miraculously attending there, because you definitely would've expelled her ass if you're the principal.

Anyway, the grown ups there are a bunch of dumbasses, wagging their tail to a disobedient pup— what are you saying? Ew. What you should say instead is:

"You look ugly when you smoke."

"Weak insult, four eyes."

"Just verbalising my observation, chainsmoker."

"Sheesh, a blizzard over there. No wonder the mutts are scared of you."

"Nah, they just know to leave me alone."

She tilts her head. "You talk quite big for a boy studying at a dead-end school."

"You're talking like an obnoxious rich brat."

"I'm not rich, you know?"

"You don’t even deny that you’re obnoxious." You flip another page to write. "Anyway, don't smoke when I open the window to study."

"I didn't know you're my teacher now."

"So childish."

"And your so boring."

"It's you're. R E. Now shut up."

You…really should've paid attention to the creaking on the stairs until you feel a hard smack to your head. Your hand flies to the back of your head, looking up to see Minji standing there with her arm crossed. She's in an oversized hoodie, loosely tied ponytail, and a calm expression that you know is anything but calm. (And damn, your heart keeps beating irrationally seeing her like this.)

“Did you just tell a girl to shut up?” she asks.

“She’s provoking me,” you say immediately. “Intentionally!”

“And?” “And that makes it justified.”

She smacks your head again. A tad lighter, but still rude.

“You don’t tell girls to shut up.”

“She’s not—” you stop yourself. “She’s Yujin.”

As if summoned, both of you can hear the wheezing across from you. "That's right, listen to Minji-unnie, four eyes! Bleh~"

"I can hear you, Yujin."

That made the mad dog straighten up. Like actually straight back, lips shut, uptight. Hell, she even takes the cigarette off her mouth and lowers the volume. Minji sticks her head out and looks at the younger girl. "It's late, by the way."

"Y-yes, unnie." "And you're blasting music and smoking?"

"It helps with my stress." Minji remains silent, but instead gives her a look that is not angry, just disappointed. 

Yujin can only sigh. "…Yes. Ma'am." She flicks the cigarette away, the ember gone in the dark. "Happy?"

You stare. It happens every time the three of you hang out together since middle school. And it still shocks you…somehow.

-

Korea has been in a state of panic, all the way back then all three of you still don’t know what a cigarette is.

Ok, not like a world ending, asteroid-hitting-the-peninsula panic, or anything. Just more like bureaucratic projections of uncertainties about whether we will have a future generation. For a period, everything you see on the news are just graphs after graphs that slope down far too often. Headline? Low birth rate. And a multitude of reasons pile up — current generation's unemployment rate, shitty life expectants, the old model that things will get better if you just hang on.

Solution?

The government calls it Produce 48 — a nationwide matchmaking system backed by genetics, health records, projected longevity, compatibility algorithms, and whatever else sounds scientific enough to justify playing god. The moment you turn eighteen, you're evaluated, paired, and then assigned.

Stupid name aside, social media eats it up so hard, purely by the promise of optimal families. When it was mandated a few years ago, all the kids were already on the list, which is not totalitarian at all.

It doesn’t mean much to you at first. You’re fifteen when the news breaks. You’ve got an English exam the next day, and whether the country survives the next fifty years feels significantly less urgent than whether you’ll lose points on grammar. You focus on studying, as you always do. Although you understand it, objectively at least — for the greater good, necessary sacrifice, all those words adults and boomers love to use when they’re not the ones paying the price.

But since when do you give a shit about the country when you’re the one being dragged into a dating game you never signed up for?

Answer: no one gives a shit until it’s their turn, because the letter arrives on a Wednesday.

You know because Wednesdays are trash days, and you always check the mailbox on your way back from taking the bags down. Most of it is junk, flyers, utility notices, something for Minji that you put it back. 

And then you see it.

A beige envelope. Thick paper. Red government seal stamped dead in the middle. And clearly yours with your name labelled in the corner. You open it right there, because there's no point being secretive about it. Inside is a single sheet (duh) — barcodes on the top, percentages scatter throughout the pages. Neutral languages sound very corporate while deciding your future. 

Ok, let's see. Compatibility score: high. Genetic viability: optimal. Projected offspring health: excellent. Wow, this sounds promising.

Result?

An Yujin.

…Wait. Wait wait wait, let's close your eyes and open it again. One. Two. Three.

No. Still An Yujin.

…Fuck. Not so promising anymore, crap.

You open your mouth, but nothing comes out. Your hand tightens on the paper so hard it creases. Your pulse spikes loudly in your ears, trying to warn you before your brain even registered. The government must've made a mistake. Surely. Definitely. Maybe. Nah, they fucking do it wrong — statistically, practically, cosmically.

You did an audible gulp. But your next door neighbour playgirl is even louder.

"WHAT THE FUCK?!"

You flinch at the sound and look up just in time to see Yujin leaning against the fence, eyes scanning her own. Honestly, you wish you could enjoy the rare moment that Yujin is annoyed without knowing what is in that letter, because her five stages of grief says it all. Let’s go through it step-by-step.

One. Denial:

She reads it once. Then again. Then flips the paper over like there will be an announcement that says 'SIKE' (It doesn't).

Two. Bargaining:

“Genetic compatibility score… ninety-eight points… no, that’s insane. There’s no way.” She jabs a finger at the page. “This has to be adjustable. Right? Like, appeal process. Retest. I can run another physical. It will be different, I'm sure. How the hell am I compatible with that study freak?!”

Three. Anger:

"This is bullshit!" Yujin crumples the letter in a quick squeeze. "Absolutely dogshit! Who decides the whole damn program anyway? Old fucks in grey suits playing houses?"

Then, inevitably, her glare snaps to you standing in front of your house.

“And I am not going to date—let alone marry—some stiff, socially awkward, notebook-hoarding weirdo with a superiority complex.”

“But I don—” “Shut the fuck up!”

Fair.

Four. Depression. Ok, this one hits you harder than it hits Yujin.

You'd never said it out loud, but a part of you hoped (like, stupidly hoped) that if it's your turn to be matched, the girl would be Minji, who you have been paying ridiculous attention to since you hit puberty. Like come on, she makes so much sense — top grade, college student, kind, pretty, and straight up your ideal type. She never dates (well, from what you assume, but she doesn’t go out as much). But instead it's Yujin.

…fuck, it’s really Yujin, instead.

Then five. Acceptance: 

You are stuck with Yujin, and she is stuck with you.

See? Five stages of grief. Lovely.

-

One thing you learned since middle school about An Yujin is that…this bitch is full of spite. To be specific, the one that looks you dead in the eye and does the things that she knows will piss you off, just to show that she can. It’s just the matter of when you will get hit with it.

The official matchmaking letter doesn't mean shit to her. Not even a little. 

The first time you see the shitshow, it's a week after you two read the letter. You're walking home like always, with a backpack heavy with books and a head already deep in memorised formulas, when you spot her across the street leaning too casually against a lamppost, her school vest slung low, and fingers hooked into another girl's belt loop like it's another day.

She sees you, because of course she does, and prepares her little show. Her head tilts to the side, giving the girl a sultry smile (well, mainly to you), before leaning it and kisses the girl. Slowly. And exaggeratedly.

You don't know why you stop walking, but you do.

The (unfortunate) girl laughs, probably a different girl from last week, and Yujin wraps her arm around her waist, glancing back at you and checking whether you're still her audience or not. You are. But that's because you were stunned. Totally.

When you finally approach them, your voice comes out flat. "You're just trying to rage bait now, Yujin."

"This? I'm just living my life, no?"

"I am not that dense."

Her hum is borderline mocking. "Looks like you should mind your own business."

"We are literally contractually binded by the government."

"And I literally don't care, four eyes." She flips you off without breaking eye contact.

And this is light in comparison to when she is NOT en-route, because she's doing it next door instead as usual. Just another concoction of loud music, open window, and more laughs from Yujin and another fling of hers, but much, much more deliberate. You're halfway through an English mock exam when the said fling's giggle cuts through the wall, followed by Yujin's smug voice.

Sometimes you hear the bed creak. And sometimes you hear the damn fucking moan (either from the girl or from her).

There was one time you threw a pebble at the window frame. Of course she ignores you. At times the music cuts, and you wish that she just ignores you instead of throwing out more smug comments.

"It's late" you complain. "And you're being a bitch."

"Oooh, jelly, four eyes?"

"I'm trying to make us work." 

"You try then. I didn't ask for this."

The worst part is that you do try like you do with exams — study the pamphlets, follow-up emails, looking up past experiences on Facebook for a happy relationship. Hell, you show up to the mandatory counselling sessions with an advisor recommended by the government just to tell how to quote-on-quote "gauge on the metrics"... or whatever that means.

Yujin either shows up 10 minutes before it's done, or doesn't show up at all.

And the worst part? Even worse than the shitshow that Yujin constantly gives? 

Minji. Not that she does anything, it's just that she is so close yet so far. 

She is always there for you as always — same kitchen, same living room, same mornings where she hands you the coffee and bread the way you want, and same evenings where she listens to your endless rants about Yujin. But this one particular night hurts you the most, with one line from Minji while scrolling through her phone. "You two look great together. I'd assume you're a couple if I just passed by."

Your spoon halts halfway to your mouth, and you can only manage to say "Oh". 

And it stings more when she smiles at you, and completely ignores the constant arguing through the window. "Opposite attracts, you know? It's pretty cute."

Cute, huh.

"B-but, we argue like almost every week! You even come up to shut us up!"

"It's a recipe for a cute rom-com, tho." Minji laughs it off. "But you two are so cute together."

Your inside twists. Painfully so. Because Minji is right there. She's everything you ever wanted without trying to be. And you…and you're putting in effort for someone who treats this whole fucking mandates like a game, while the girl you yearn for is cheering you from the sidelines.

And that night you also realise something — Minji is treating you like a child, and you hate it.

So, so much.

Which only makes An Yujin's spite land harder.

-

'Ask those who walk before you' they said. You don’t even get the chance to ask. Minji tells you anyway.

It happens over dinner. Nothing special — rice, vegetables, some meat. The air smells faintly of the soy sauce and steaming rice. Very normal. Very unorthodox. Yet she just spills it out while you're chewing absentmindedly.

"You know you only have to comply for a year right?"

"Comply what?"

"Produce 48."

Your chopsticks pause mid-air. "The fuck what now?"

"Oh. They didn't tell you?" "Tell me what?"

Minji sets her chopsticks down. “After one year, you can file to switch partners, as long as they’re not already paired and both sides consent.”

"Is that allowed?" "Yeah."

"Since when?" "Uh, second revision. I thought you knew."

"No one tells me." "Wow, they are incompetent people."

You both laugh, but then something clicks: “Wait,” you say slowly. “How do you know this?”

"I did it."

You choke on your rice. "You WHAT?"

She reaches over to pat your back, laughing. “Hey. I didn’t like the guy I was matched with. So I complied for the minimum period and switched.”

Switched.

The word follows you all night.

You don’t sleep. Not because you’re anxious, but rather because that single word plants a small, stubborn light somewhere in your chest. You should feel relieved and hopeful. But instead, all you can think about is the way Minji said it so easily. Sometimes she is so composed you forget she’s older than you by only one year. Sometimes you actually forget she’s had more time, more chances, and more people to meet.

No. That’s fucking stupid, you tell yourself. But the doubt spirals.

(Why didn’t she tell you? When did she switch? Who was the previous guy she was mandated with? And who is she see—)

You confront Yujin on a Sunday afternoon.

After half a year of idling over this conscripted love nonsense, you finally barge into her house where she is lounging in her living room and scrolling on her phone. No music. No girls. No audience. Ok, good. You need quiet for this.

"We need to talk."

She doesn't look up. "Pass."

"It's important."

She sighs exaggeratedly, her thumb still moving. "Yeah, you always say that, four eyes."

"Please."

That gets her attention. "Did you jus—" "Yes."

"Wow. Must've been desperate, huh."

"An Yujin."

She turns off her phone and absentmindedly throws it to the corner of the couch. "You got five minutes before I kick you out."

You inhale. "There's an option. After a year."

"Option for what?" "Switching partner."

"Since when?" "Since the revision that I just found out, apparently."

"Ok…and…?" "I need you to stop sabotaging us and just fucking do your job properly."

She lets out a short laugh. "Fuck no."

"I'm not asking you to like me." You say quickly, tumbling your words, and your heart palpitates. "Jus— just cooperate. One year. And that's it. We wasted half a year already."

She tilts her head. “Why would I do that?”

Because you’re exhausted. Because you’re losing ground every day. Because Minji's smile hurts more than Yujin’s cruelty ever could. Instead, you say, “Because it benefits you.”

Her interest sparks. “Go on.”

“You can date whoever you want,” you say. “I won’t interfere. I won’t nag. I won’t—” you hesitate, then force it out. “—care. Just try, at least.”

You don't realise you've moved until your knees hit the ground. It fucking hurts — ground is cold, your knee probably bruised, and your pride is hitting rock bottom.

But her usual smug is gone. "Bro, four eyes, what the fuck are you do—”

You bow your head. "Please."

It feels wrong in your mouth. Begging is never your thing. Not teachers. Not bullies. But now you're kneeling in front of the biggest pain in your life. "Just one fucking year. For both of us, please."

She stares at you. "Get up. You're embarrassing me."

You don't move.

"Fuck, this dam— Fine. I'll comply."

You look up.

"One year, like you said."

Relief crashes into you so hard your vision swims. "Really?"

"Don't get it wrong. I just want to date girls without you bitching around."

"Deal."

-

The deal is…functional. 

Ok, it’s not good. And not exactly friendly, either. Just like two co-workers trying to get through till the end of the shift. Yujin gets to the counseling session on time more often now. You scorned her less. In the public eyes, you two are one adequate couple. 60% will be the mark if this is an exam.

You’ve been counting weeks now, not months. So no wonder you didn’t hear murmurs around her school.

“Told you she peaked early.” “Yeah, no shit. Guess all the hype finally caught up to her.”

You catch it by accident.

It’s late afternoon, the sky already washed into that dull orange that means the day is finally done. Your feet ache from the walk home, backpack digging into your shoulders, and you’re cutting past her school like you always do when the voices drift over. You slow down, mainly out of curiosity.

“She hasn’t shown up to training in days. The Sports Coach said ‘injury’, but surely not right?”

“Falling off already? That was fast.”

That… sounds uncomfortably specific. And annoyingly familiar. Surely not. Yujin might be a menace, but she’s not reckless enough to torch her own reputation over something stupid. You both have been doing the obligations normally in front of the officials and in public. She wouldn’t—

You look over and uh….

Cast. White, ugly, and running from just below her knee down to her ankle. The crutches tucked awkwardly under her arms. Her long hair tied up sloppy, barely any makeup, and her tracksuit jacket zipped up all the way to her chin.

Ah, it is Yujin.

She’s standing just inside the gate, laughing at something on her phone. Somewhat like her brazen usual self, but the sound doesn’t match how her smile doesn’t go all the way up. 

You tell yourself it’s just concerning your dealmates as you move your feet. And passing through a group of students still talking, your ears perk up to one of them snickers again. “I mean, injuries happen, but An Yujin should’ve have no—”

You turn around. “Finish that sentence.”

They blink. “Huh?”

“I said,” you repeat, deliberately louder, “Finish that sentence, you fuckwit.”

“Who are you supposed to–”

“Someone who doesn’t run their mouth over someone on a bad day.” You snap. “Now shut the fuck up and mind your own business.”

One of them scoffs. “Relax, man. We’re just saying—”

“—that you have peas for brains,” you cut in. “Now shut it.”

They grumble and roll their eyes, but keep walking away. Bunch of spineless fuckwits, these pretentious kids.

“Immediate speculation the moment someone did a hiccup is just lazy,” a calm voice says behind you and Yujin. “And cruel, too.”

You turn to see Minji standing there, arms folded, her expression polite in that way that’s only polite on the surface. She must’ve just gotten back from campus too. She offers the retreating students a gentle smile. “If you’re worried, maybe try supporting your peers instead.”

That makes them run away.

“Kids.” Minji exhales.

Both you and Minji turn back to Yujin, and her smile drops. “What are you looking at?”

“The fuck happened to you?” You point. She follows your finger to the cast and clicks her tongue.

Minji steps closer. “Yujin.”

“It’s nothing,” Yujin mutters. “Just a little trip during the run.”

“That’s not ‘a little’, you fucki–” you sigh. “That’s months!”

Yujin is clearly annoyed with the sudden attention from both of you. “It will heal, the doctor said.”

“Well what are you going to do until then?” Minji asks.

“I wait.”

That’s when you find out her parents are away right at the worst time. Something about an urgent business trip that makes her huge, modern and quiet house even more…huge and quiet. And Yujin is not used to that at all.

So you stay. Well, both of you, just in case this tall bean begins to have weird self-doubting thoughts when she can barely move without knocking something over. Her place slowly rearranges itself around Yujin’s immobility. The couch becomes her bed. Pillows pile up like makeshift barricades. A chair is dragged closer so she can hook her cast over it comfortably (after a few complaints about how the angle is still wrong. Fuck you, Yujin.) Crutches lean uselessly against the wall most days, abandoned the moment she decides it’s too much effort to move at all.

At first, it’s pretty awkward.

Minji comes over in the afternoons straight from campus. She brings over the smell of library air and instant coffee, the cardigan shrugging off her shoulders as she slips her shoes by the door. She cooks just like how she cooks for you, and narrates out of her habit.

“My professor has been getting increasingly cruel to us lately, making us redo our drafts.” Minji rants as she rinses the rice in the sink. “I swear, these old farts think we don’t sleep.”

Yujin lies on the couch and scrolls aimlessly. “Now you make me not want to go to uni.”

“You will one day, kiddo.” Minji laughs.

You sit on the floor with your back against the couch, pretending to read while listening anyway.

Everyday, Minji talks as usual. About classes. About a girl in her seminar who won’t stop asking weird philosophical questions just to hear herself talk. About how the cafeteria food is somehow worse this semester. She’s filling the space on purpose, just to keep Yujin tethered to the world outside these four walls.

Yujin pretends not to care initially, but her phone stays idle at times.

One evening, while Minji is cutting fruit into neat little bite-sized pieces, Yujin asks casually. “Unnie, did you really switch your partners?”

The knife hovers mid-air. “Uh, did he tell you?”

Yujin glances at you reading a book in the other corner of the couch, clearly tensed up, and then  back to the older girl. “Uh, maybe.”

Minji glances at you as well before answering: “Mhm, after a year.”

“The guy must have been a piece of work for you of all people to switch.”

Minji laughs. “He kind of was.”

Yujin hums. “Well, who did you switch to?”

The room goes quiet. Minji clears her throat. “Someone I trusted.”

“Booooooo! Boring!”

You threw a sunflower seed shell you have been munching to her head. “Stop it, Yujin. Don’t bother her.”

Yujin groans, and then somehow has an idea, judging by how she flicks her gaze sideways right at you. “What about this four eyes?”

Your stomach drops. “What about me?”

Minji freezes. It’s subtle but unmistakable. You catch the way her shoulders tense. And how she grips the knife a bit too tight. For one horrible second, you think she might actually answer…or slice you into pieces.

You move before your brain catches up (also out of your safety), and immediately clamp over Yujin’s mouth. “Nope. Nope. Conversation over. The injury has clearly affected her brain.”

“Mmph—!” Yujin thrashes, trying to bite you.

“She’s trolling like back then, remember?” you say quickly, too loudly, to Minji. “She’s bored. This is what happens when athletes are put on bed rest.”

The older girl blinks. Once. Twice. Then she exhales, the tension leaving her shoulders. “Gosh, you two are such adorable younger siblings I somehow have.” She comments before getting up to wash the knife.

The moment she leaves, Yujin finally pulls free, scowling. “You’re such a fucking coward.”

“Shut up and eat the fruit.”

She flips you off and complies anyway.

Later, after Minji leaves the place first for her early class tomorrow, only you are there to take care of Yujin. Her house settles into a rare late-night quiet moment where every sound feels louder than the bass Yujin always puts on to annoy you. You stay close to her, adjusting her leg when she gets a bit too uncomfortable.

“You should go home, too.” she mutters.

“After you go to sleep.”

She scoffs. “She could’ve answered.”

“She didn’t want to.”

Yujin stares at the ceiling, her jaw still tight. “Still. She didn’t say no.”

You say nothing. Because you don’t know what scares you more: that Minji didn’t answer, or that Yujin noticed.

-

The timing is cruel in the way only these conscripted love experiments can be. 

Three hundred and sixty-something days of teeth-grtting compliance and chaperone. Of learning how to sit next to Yujin without flinching nor snapping back while taking care of the injured girl. Of continuing to pretend that you and Yujin are still that one perfect couple to the officials and then still arguing over the smallest issues the moment none of them are the audience. And of course, counting the days when things are supposed to change…or end…or reset. 

But things change the moment Minji texts you one afternoon.

Minji:

Can I tell you something later?

She has been doing that a lot lately (both offline and online). Just little messages about her uni life, the people she meets, and then him. The "crush", she calls him, with his cool cap and whatever, but you deduce it’s the lucky bastard that is paired with her. She always laughs whenever she brings it up nonchalantly like it's not supposed to mean anything, or probably because she never sees you as anything beyond her friend/little brother. Still you nod along for months. Just let her talk and ramble. Pretending it doesn't sink its claws into you every single time and inhaling a big gulp of copium hoping that she sees you as someone romantically.

Yeah, no.

Minji:

He asked me out. I'm thinking about saying yes.

Your fingers hover over the keyboard. You could've asked questions, or teased her like usual; you could congratulate her, be supportive of your long time friend/older sister, be everything you have mentally trained yourself to be.

Instead, your phone slams to the table, face-down.

You don't trust your voice, nor face, and most of all, not your reaction to Minji saying it out loud — how much she likes him, how long she actually does, and how this has been real while you feign ignorance like a little kid.

So you just leave. Bolt straight out of your door. You don't even think where you want to go, but your feet instinctively rush to Yujin's house and bang her door loudly…or is it your heart that is hammering loudly, who the fuck knows.

You let yourself in without knocking. Yujin sprawled on the couch (finally out of cast) and was still in her school uniform — white shirt, red tie, blue skirt. Her legs over the armrest, TV on but muted, phone abandoned on her stomach like she forgot it existed, and a cigarette hanging at the corner of her mouth. She looks up, startled.

“…Wow,” she says. “You look like shit.”

“Hi to you too, chainsmoker.”

She sits up when she hears your voice crack, killing the embers and trying to clear the smoke away. “Hey. What happened?”

You laugh. It comes out wrong and hysterical. "She…might say yes."

"Who?" "Minji."

"…Oh, unnie."

The word breaks you. “I’ve liked her for years,” you blurt out, the confession ripping out of you before you can stop it. “I told myself it was nothing. That it was timing. That I was just being stupid. But I—fuck, Yujin, I really tried not to—”

Your voice shatters.

“I can’t even be mad at her,” you say quietly. “She didn’t do anything wrong. She just… found someone. And I’m still here. Acting and whining like a fucking kid about my damn crush for her.”

Not really sure why you're spilling your deep secret to your sworn enemy, but that time, you're desperate to hear her laughing and scorn at you for whining like a nerd, scoffing, or telling you that karma is a bitch.

She doesn't. She listens. None of the usual banter, not at all. 

When you finally stop talking, the silence is suffocating.

“Is that…why you ran here?” she asks.

You nod. “I didn’t know where else to go.”

She exhales slowly, then steps closer. Too close.

“You’re an idiot,” you never know Yujin's voice can be this soft.

"Yeah…"

The room suddenly feels even smaller.

Before you can actually react, she steps into your space and gently places her hand onto your chest. She pushes you gently towards the wall behind you and—

THUD.

You're fully aware of the barrier behind you as she plants her palm next to your face, her body boxing you in. You freeze instinctively, unsure if it is out of fear or…something you don't fucking dare to say.

"An Yujin, you just recov—"

“Just shut up and let me.”

She leans in. 

They say that the first kiss meant to be sweet and careful. This one isn’t. Cigarettes are all you can taste, and you can definitely feel how experienced this playgirl is. She crashes her lips against yours unapologetically, feeling all the heat and frustration boils up, and with such hunger. She's making a point, telling you to 'look at her, and only her'.

“Yu—Yujin…” Your mind blanks, yet your hand immediately grabs her tie on instinct, gripping and pulling closer like you’re afraid she’ll disappear if you don’t.

She pulls back enough to look at you. "…are you ok? Is it too much?"

What is too much? The fact that she just boldly manhandled you like you’re no different from her side chicks? The fact that your body responds with a shiver? Or the fact that deep down, buried under all the scoffing and arguing, you’ve always known that…An Yujin is one damn fucking hot playgirl. 

You’re not blind (you wear glasses). The damn smug, the grin, the attractive face, the confidence that borders on cruelty, and the way she just invades spaces and owns it. You told yourself that she was just being arrogant, bitchy, and whatever negative connotations you try to come up to justify your hatred for Yujin.

Now that she is this close, knowing exactly which switch of yours she can flip? Yeah, you can’t even answer.

And she fucking knows it.

“Thought so.”

She kisses you again, albeit slower this time. And your thoughts completely dissipated. You stop thinking about whether this means anything to her. Whether you’re just another distraction. Another side note in her long list of girls. You stop thinking about Minji. About her laugh. About the quiet way she’s already moved on. Then you stop thinking about the rules, the day until your conscripted love game is done, and whatever else. They all dissolved into the awareness of Yujin's arm snaking her way behind your back and pushing you closer to her. 

And how you are hyper aware of how her tongue coils around yours greedily. With the mixture of that bitter taste of the cigs and the sweet taste of Yujin imprints onto your brain. Your hand did a quick whirl to her tie, making sure she stays right there kissing you.

When you finally loosen your grips to let her pull away, she stays close enough that you can feel her breath against your lips. 

"I'll make you forget completely about unnie, starting tonight."

Hood pulled low, strands of hair clinging to her cheeks, her eyes red not from sleep, but something else. She's clutching her phone so tight her knuckles are pale, the other just hangs limply by her side.

She doesn't say a word. Just standing there, chest rising and falling in uneven bursts as if she just rushed to here (she did, you found out later), and her lips trembling like she's still deciding whether to speak or not.

"Soda?" you murmur her nickname, voice still thick with sleep. "What are you-"

"He broke up with me."

It's quiet. Flat. Like she had recited the news to herself, as nonchalant than it should’ve been. But she couldn't hide the crack in her tone, enough to give her away. You’ve known her since middle school.

“Who?”

“Who else?”

You blink once. Twice. The sentence sinks in like a slow burn like your consciousness back to life.

Then you step aside. "Get in."

She doesn't hesitate. Dahyun walked past you without meeting your eyes, the faint smell of rain and the scent that is undoubtedly hers following her in. She kicks off her shoes with a dull thud (one of them landing sideways) and drops her phone onto the couch before collapsing beside it, knees drawn up, arms wrapped around your huge Snorlax plushie like she's trying to squeeze the ache out of her chest. 

You would've snatched a photo already if the air wasn't so suffocating.

Instead, you close the door behind her. The click sounds far too …final.

For a while, neither of you says anything. The TV in the background was still mumbling nonsense, but it did fill up the silence with half-hearted laughter. It felt almost wrong to even keep it on, like the world outside didn't get the memo that your best friend was just trying to keep every piece of her from falling apart.

You move toward her slowly, scratching the back of your neck. "…want some soda?"

She shook her head (she would've laughed at that by this point, you knew she loved that joke). Her eyes stay fixed on the floor, seemingly distant.

"He said that it doesn't work."

"What does that even mean? What doesn't work."

"That I'm…too much, apparently. Too clingy."

Her voice breaks on the last word. Small. Bitter. Feels like she's trying to turn the pain into sarcasm (just like you. Wow, best friend certified.) and failing miserably.

You dropped onto the spot next to her on the couch, being extra careful of every single movement. "Too much? Too clingy? How? You're the most empathetic girl in the world."

She lets out a dry laugh. "Can you believe that? Too clingy. Like caring is not allowed now. What the fuck."

You finally take a proper look at Dahyun. She tried so hard to stay composed, trying to joke about it away as usual, the way she always does when she's hurt. But her eyes couldn't hide it this time. There was this deep, hollow sadness sitting behind them, the kind that comes from being made to feel like her utmost love was too heavy for someone to carry.

She exhales shakily, her shoulders rise and fall in slow, uneven waves. "It's stupid, right? It's the same shit every time. I care too much, I ask too many questions, I…I text first too often. It's like —" She presses her palm to her mouth, her breathing shaky, and her voice clearly cracking, "-- It's like I'm not allowed to love people unless I pretend not to care about them."

Her words hang heavy in the air. You can hear, no, FEEL the frustration behind them. The anger that bottled up when you're tired of being gentle, tired of being told you're too much for people who don't know how to appreciate it.

It took you a full minute to find what barely was the right word to comfort her. "Soda…you just gave your time and heart to someone who didn't deserve it."

She didn't move for a second. Just stares down at her hands, the fingers picking at the hem of her sleeve. And then, without looking up, she whispers, "Then why does it keep happening to me?"

You wanted to answer, but nothing managed to come out of your throat. "I–-"

"You wouldn't understand anyway." She turned her head slowly, like the motion itself is a betrayal. The Snorlax plushie slips from her arms and lands face-down on the floor with a soft, defeated thump.

"Soda—"

"You don't understand!" The words rip out of her, jagged and raw. "You've never been the one left behind like this!"

You flinched. Not from the volume (though it's the first time you've ever heard her raise it), but from the venom oozing out of it. Seo Dahyun, who once apologised to a chair she bumped into, is screaming at you, her best friend. And she’s up, pacing the narrow strip of floor between the couch and the coffee table. Bare feet slap the rug, then the cold tile, then the rug again. Her hoodie’s zipper is half-down, revealing the thin strap of a tank top underneath, damp from the rain. Wet strands of her hair stick to her cheek in the dark.

"You always act like you have your life all figured out."

"Soda, I don't have my life figure—"

"Like you are so fucking calm. Like nothing ever hurt you!”

“Soda, listen to me—”

“I hate it! I hate how your life is just stable and quiet, while mine is in fucking shamble!"

The accusation hangs in the air, unfair and sharp. You don't move. You can't move.  Your hands stay open on your thighs, palms up, like you are offering something she doesn't want. You know she's not yelling at you. It's the ghost of every single exes who told her she was too much, too needy. The echo of her own voice, telling her she's wrong.

Then she stops in front of you, chest heaving. Her eyes are glassy, red-rimmed, but the tears haven't fallen yet.

"I just—" Her voice cracks again, but smaller now. "I just need to feel something else. Anything else."

Her hands are on your shirt before you can answer, fisting the fabric, and tugging you forward. It wasn't gentle, and it certainly wasn't asking. You just lift your arms and let her yank your shirt off, the fabric catching on your ears for a second before it's gone. She tossed it aside absentmindedly, and couldn't give a damn where it landed.

Her hoodies then followed, fully zipped down in one motion. It puddles on the floor like shed skin. She's in a thin white tank now, her perky nipples visible through the damp fabric, and you try so hard not to stare. You tried to stay within the line, but she already threw it when she climbed onto your lap, knees bracketing your hips, her thighs trembling.

"Soda" You say, with utmost care. "Hey, Soda, listen to me—"

"Shut up." She whispers, but it's more like pleading than demanding. "Just, don't talk for a second, okay?"

Her fingers fumble with your belt, metal clinking too loud for comfort in the quiet space. She gets it undone, shoves your jeans and boxer down just enough. And then her own short. Then her underwear. She rises up on her knees, one hand braced on your shoulder, and the other guiding your exposed member to her entrance. She's wet already (unsure how, but you didn't dare to question), and her breath hitched as your head brushed her folds.

"Tell me you want this…" She whispers, eyes locked on yours. "Tell me you want me. Please."

"Fuck…" You groaned. You should've stopped her. Should've calmed her down, but what came out was: "I always do, Soda."

With the approval, she sinks down in one slow, deliberate slide, taking you to the hilt. The sound she made was half-sob, half-relief. Her head falls back, throat exposed, and you watch all the reliefs pouring out through her tears, tracking down her cheeks and dripping down onto your bare chest.

"Gosh…" she panted, her hips rolling in a circle, grinding down like she's trying to memorise the shape of you in her. "You - mmph, you feel so good…"

She then starts moving, her hips rolling in tight circles and grind down like she's trying so fucking hard to erase the bad memory away. Her breath hitches every time she bottoms out, a small and wounded sound that makes your heart ache.

"Tell me.." Her voice trembled. "Tell me I'm not too much, you idiot. "

You swallowed hard. "You're not. Soda. Never."

She makes a broken sound and kisses you. Messy, desperate, teeth clacking. Her tongue slides against yours, tasting like salt and rain and something very her. She pulled off the kiss and rested her forehead against yours. Her hand slides up to your chest, nails grazing your skin. It does hurt, yes, but it was still light, careful, like she's afraid to leave deep marks. Afraid to ruin you. Afraid to ruin what you both have.

"Say it again. Please." She pleaded. "I'm not too much."

"You're not too much." You repeated, rougher this time. "You're…more than they deserved."

Her pace quickens, hips snapping harder and slamming down harder, but there's still hesitation in it, like every thrust is still a question. The couch creaks beneath you. The TV is still on, running some nonsense infomercial. It's absurd. It's obscene. It's just enough.

"Harder," She whispers, "Yes, fuc- yes~" and you weren't sure if she meant you or herself. You slide your hands to her waist and her back, just holding there and letting her take what she needs. She rides you like she's trying to outrun the pain, but her eyes kept flicking to yours.

She leans back to your touch, and you watch her. Tank top riding up, breasts bouncing with every roll of her hips, the slick slide of her pussy taking you again and again.

"Am I...hurting you?" She whispered.

"Not at all." You panted. "You're doing fine."

She bites her lip, nods (good that she is still responding well, that's the Seo Dahyun you know), and moves again. Faster. Rougher. But her hands stay gentle, her fingers splayed across your chest like she's anchoring herself. Or relying on the anchor that is you.

"I don't want to be mean…" She moaned, almost to herself. "I just…I just want—"

"I know…" You smiled. "I got you. Do you feel good?”

" Yeah, fuck…you feel so good in me." She looked at you, her glassy eyes were on the verge of shattering. "You'll,,, stay with me like always…right?"

"Of course." Without hesitation. Without missing a single beat. "I'm always here for you."

And then she breaks. Sobs. A real one. It was raw, guttural, like she was finally being allowed to let it out. Her face crumples, forehead pressed to your neck, and the tears come hot and fast. You feel her clench around you. You don't think because it was deliberate, but it was just reflex from all the emotions, her thighs trembling violently as the wave hits.

Her fingers dig deeper into your shoulders. Just holding you tightly like you're the only thing left in her world. "I'm sorry," she chokes out between sobs, voice muffled against you. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I’m sorry—"

You don't want to answer with words (Not the thing she wanted to hear at this moment. You can read her more than enough times). Your arms around her tightened even more, one hand sliding up to cradle the back of her head, fingers threading through her damp hair. She's shaking so hard. So fragile. So small. Yet she still moved her hips in tiny, involuntary jerks, chasing the last of it even as she fell apart.

And then, the orgasm crashes through her. Her whole body locks up, back arching, a mantra of "fuck" and "I'm coming" tearing out of her throat as she let herself go. Hard, messy, tears and snot and sweat mixing on your skin. (It was a pain to clean it off, but that's not important right now.)

"Let it out." You whispered. "I got you, Soda. Do it for me."

And she did. Hard. With a broken cry that was half your name, half a curse. You feel it the way she pulses around you, the way her breath stutters as she begged you to hold her tight and not let go, and the way her nails dug half-moons into your flesh before going slack. It was too much for you to hold back, and you followed soon after. All the built up spilled into her with a low, helpless groan. Your hips jerked up once, twice, before stilling.

She doesn't pull away.

Just collapse fully, her weight grounding you both. Just the warmth from the heated session and the bond between you two.

"I…didn't hurt you, did I?" Her tone too careful. Too fragile.

You shake your head. "You bonking me accidentally with a metal bat last week hurts more."

“Damn you…” That finally brings out a weak chuckle out of her. "I just…I just… didn't know how to be angry without breaking something."

"It's fine." You smiled. "You’re not breaking anything.”

“Really?”

“Mhm. You're still here. And I'm still here for you."

She exhales into your skin, shaky but light. The silence stretched, but it was comfortable.

And then, the TV cuts to a commercial for a blender. Hearing the rambling, Dahyun snorts, "We're literally fucking to the sound of a NutriBullet ad."

You soon followed with an airy laugh. "Don’t point that out, Soda, damn it."

She shifts, still on your lap, and winces. "Damn you, I'm gonna be so sore tomorrow."

"Well, it's your fault for riding too hard, Soda. I get it, I'm too irresistable."

She smacks your chest lightly, cheeks flushing. "Shut up…I was just processing."

"Mhm…hope that was a great processing time you had."

"Stop teasing me, damn it." She pinched your shoulder, forcing a groan out of you. "You didn't exactly complain."

"Why would I?" You brush a strand of hair from her face, tuck it behind her ear. “Hey.” 

She hummed.

“You want that soda now?”

She let out another snort before she looked up to you with the smile you adored so much. Small, tired, real. Undeniably hers. “Diet Coke. With ice. And a straw.”

You sighed, a grin managed to escape. “Tsk. So bossy.”

“Deal with it, idiot.”

But she doesn’t move to get off you yet. Not yet. Just stay there, and breathe with you.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Where did you even—” She says as she rushes to kneel in front of it.

“It’s my older brother’s. He had it boxed up in his attic. When you told me you’ve always wanted to try the original Super Mario Kart, I just knew that I had to borrow it for you.”

“Oh my God…”  Sullyoon’s in awe of the prehistoric gadget, staring at it like it was some sort of relic. “Wait! So you still have the original cartridge?” On cue, you pull it out of your pocket. “Yup. I hid back when I was a kid.” You say as you hand it to her. “I also spent the last few weeks making sure it could still run, and would work with our TV.” Like clockwork, the screen lights up when you press the power button. Sullyoon’s eyes light up as well in amazement. 

“Oppa, this is amazing! But I can’t help but feel like this just to get me to stop using Kirby.” She jokes. “Oh no! You’ve seen through my plan!” You joke back. “But honestly, when you told me you wanted to try it out, I thought it would be a perfect gift. Especially with how many memories I made with it when I was a kid.”

Sullyoon waits for you patiently as she sits down in front of the couch. You take your place beside her with the heated leftover slices of pizza in hand.

“I’m gonna be so bad at this.” She whines as she watches you insert the cartridge. “Oh come on. You’re an ace at gaming no matter what console we use.”

The game doesn’t work on the first go. So you do what you did as a kid. You motion to Sullyoon to come over and help you. Together, you blow into the cartridge before loading it back in. Like how it did back when you were a kid, it somehow worked this time.

“Still, this is my first time on an snes. You’ll probably win against me.” Sullyoon whines as she sits back down beside you, hugging your arm in premature defeat.

“Tell you what, you can be player number 1 and get a few rounds of practice before we race for real.” You say as you hand her the first controller. “Oppa… I can’t. It’s basically your console.” “Yoona, it’s fine. Besides, I prefer being player number 2. I spent most of my childhood playing alongside my older brother. I don’t mind if I have to again as long as it's with you.” You give her a smile of assurance. She smiles back softly to you in reply. 

For the first hour or so, Sullyoon spends the time getting used to the new console. Getting a feel of the controller, adjusting to the graphics, and so on. She rests her head on your shoulder, leaning on you as she goes through each of the courses. You sit beside her, watching her play, chuckling at the little sounds she makes. Every so often you’d hold up a slice of pizza to her mouth, feeding her while she continues to race. She gets into it, like really into it like she does with every new game she tries out. It’s after her second win against the npc’s when she suddenly turns to you. “Alright Oppa. I think I’m ready. Prepare to eat my dust!” Her exclamation is accompanied with a bright smile. 

The renewed confidence makes you chuckle as you grab the second controller. It amazes you how good she got with just a few hours of playing, but the muscle memory and the comfort of your old controller helps you just edge out Sullyoon for the win. Your cheers were met with whines.

“Ugh! I almost had you!” Sullyoon complains. “One more game!” You smile from the challenge, because you know it won’t be just one. Hours pass. Race after race. Game after game. Trading wins and losses. Going on winning and losing streaks. Sharing laughs, whines, screams, and cheers. Soon enough, the sunrise breaks through your curtains. After the… fiftieth game, you finally concede and finish the night (or morning) with a win for Sullyoon.

“Heh, told you I’d get you!” Sullyoon cheers, but a yawn escapes and interrupts her jubilations. “I can’t believe we played through the night.” You say as you lean back on the couch.

“I… didn’t want to… stop on a loss.” She manages to say as her body starts succumbing to the fatigue. 

More yawns start to escape Sullyoon’s mouth as she leans her head on your shoulder. You welcome her weight, letting her get comfortable after your hours of gaming. You can feel her breathing start to slow, letting you know she’s close to falling asleep. You slowly power down the console, not letting her head fall from your shoulder.

For a few minutes, you do your best not to move from in front of the couch. You continue to look at Sullyoon, just remembering how happy she was while playing. How much she was laughing and enjoying herself. You’ll carry her to the bed sooner or later. You always do when the two of you get carried away while playing. For now, you just sit there and let her rest. You stroke a few strands of loose hair from her face before you whisper in her ear.

“Happy Birthday Yoona.”

You're seated in the chair — that same infamous chair from your first encounter with Rei, the one she had claimed you on so thoroughly after her Tango special stage. Gaeul stands right beside you, one hip cocked, her hand resting lightly on the backrest as she looks down at you with those sharp, knowing eyes.

The chair feels heavier than before, like it carries the ghost of Rei's hips grinding down, her laughter echoing as she claims her "privileges.” Your phone rests on your thigh, the screen frozen on the YouTube teaser. Gaeul is sprawled low on the glittering floor, propped on her hands, legs lifted high — one stretched straight toward the ceiling, the other bent sharply with her knee pulled in. Her hips are arched with shorts riding up to expose those slick, sparkling thighs under the pulsing violet haze.

You've watched it 23 times already tonight, each loop making your cock ache harder.

You clear your throat, trying to sound as casual as possible. "It's... it's really good, Gaeul. As good as the rest. Maybe even better in some ways. The lighting, the way you move—”

“Heh.” She cuts you off with a small, begrudging laugh, one that’s a stark contrast from her energetic bubbly cheers when all five members toyed with you after their cheerleader special stage a few weeks prior. She steps closer, her thighs brushing against your elbow — yes, those same thick, luscious thighs that you've watched 23 times.

“As good as the rest? That's not very convincing." Her fingers trail along your shoulder lightly, making you shiver. “You’re stammering. You're blushing. And —" she leans down, lips brushing your ear "— you're hard just talking about it."

You shift in the chair, embarrassed heat flooding your face, but there's no hiding the bulge straining against your pants. “I —”

“Shhhh~” Gaeul places her finger on your lips, hushing you. She straightens her body, before climbing on to the stage right in front of you and turns slowly so her ass is level with your gaze. The high-cut shorts clings to her firm cheeks, the curve perfect and inviting. "Maybe the teaser was too short," she muses, her voice dripping with seduction. "Didn't give you enough time to really appreciate it. So let me show you the real thing.”

She doesn't wait for your permission. She backs up, her heels stepping onto the tight empty spaces on your seat on both sides of your thighs. She bends forward, then downwards, folding herself while standing until her hands grab on to the chair’s armrests for support. Her long pink hair hangs downwards, tickling your thighs and knees, and her eyes look at you from between her legs. Her firm, tight ass is a mere inch away from your face, her heat radiating through the thin fabric as you inhale the intoxicating smell of her sex.

"Rei got the chair all to herself the first time, didn't she? Rode you like she owned you.” She pushes her butt closer, stuffing them right into your face, rubbing her clothed pussy across your face from side to side. "I'm a little jealous. So tonight... this chair is mine. I'm the one in control.”

Gaeul continues rubbing herself on your face, her ass round, firm, begging to be touched. "But I'll tell you exactly how I want it. Start with my thighs. Feel them. They're so soft... but strong enough to crush you if I wanted.”

Gaeul kneels forward, her body now crouched on the elevated stage, her calves lying flat on your chair’s seat as she kneels on all fours. She raises her ass up high, turns her head and looks back at you, eyes drunk with need.

“Touch me.”

You reach out, your hands trembling as your palms slide along the smooth skin of her thighs, thumbs brushing the inner crease where thigh meets hip. She shivers, pushing back into your touch. "Higher," she commands softly. Your hands glide up, squeezing the plush flesh, feeling the muscle flex beneath.

"Good boy." She spreads her legs wider, her pants pulling taut. "Now... my ass. Grab it. Hard.”

Your fingers dig into her cheeks, kneading the firm globes. Gaeul moans in satisfaction, arching her back to present more. "Mmm, that's it. You love how it feels, don't you? So full... so perfect for spanking, or spreading, or burying your face in.”

You map the outline of her cheeks, two hands sliding across in round circular motion. Each time your hands meet between the gaps of her thighs, your thumbs rub against the outline of her clothed pussy lips, drawing a subtle shiver from her. Her body relaxes and tenses in rhythmic waves with each cycle, and her legs begin to lose strength.

You can't resist the urge. You raise your hands up high, drawing a whine from Gaeul at the loss of sensation. “Why did yo —”

A loud crack cuts her short, and she moans with a yelp. You crashed both of your hands down onto both of her cheeks, slapping them hard, the sharp sound piercing across the violet rays. Before she even says anything, you dive your face between her thighs, rubbing your nose up and down her clothed sex as you spread her cheeks wide with both hands.

“Oh fuck — right there —” Gaeul moans, her arms losing strength. You rub faster and harder, until her slick soaks through the fabric, her sweet essence staining your nose.

“M-more, I want more. I want your mouth on me.”

You don't hesitate. You hook your fingers into the hem of the shorts, tugging the fabric slowly down across the curve of her ass, just enough to expose her glistening pussy and the tight pucker above. No panties. She's utterly soaked, and her lips are swollen and pink.

You dive in without warning, pushing your tongue flat against her folds, lapping up her sweetness. She gasps, her hips rocking back into your face. "Fuck — yes, eat me like that. Deeper."

You oblige, plunging your tongue inside, swirling around her clit, sucking gently. Her moans fill the room, filthy and unrestrained. "God, your tongue feels so good... lick my pussy like you starved for it. Taste how wet I am for you.”

You don't stop, plunging your tongue deeper into her slick folds, curling to trace her sensitive inner walls while your lips seal around her clit. Her hips jerk instinctively, grinding her soaked pussy against your mouth like she’s trying to ride your face. The taste of her floods your senses. It’s sweet and tangy, warm and addictive, and her arousal coats your lips and chin in a glossy sheen.

“Fuck — yes — just like that,” she gasps, her voice breaking into a needy whine. Reaching one hand back, her fingers tangle roughly in your hair to hold you exactly where she wants you. “Don’t you dare stop. Suck harder. Make my clit throb for you.”

You increase the pressure, sucking the swollen bud between your lips in rhythmic pulses while your tongue flicks relentlessly over the tip. Her thighs tremble violently around your cheeks, the plush muscle clamping down in waves that threaten to crush you, and god, you’d let her. Every time she rocks back, her ass cheeks spread wider against your palms, giving you full access to devour her.

“Mmmph — your mouth is so — filthy,” she pants, her words slurring with pleasure. “Licking me like this… tasting every drop… you’ve been dying for it since you saw that teaser, haven’t you? Watching my legs spread on screen, wishing it was your tongue instead of just your eyes.”

You groan into her cunt in agreement, the vibration making her cry out sharply. Your hands knead her ass harder, thumbs pulling her cheeks apart even more so you can press your face deeper. Her pussy flutters around your tongue, leaking fresh wetness that drips down your jaw and onto the glossy floor below.

Gaeul’s breathing turns ragged, and her commands grow more desperate. “Deeper — fuck — get inside me. Tongue-fuck my pussy like it’s your cock.”

You spear your tongue as far as it can go, thrusting in and out in quick, wet strokes while she shudders violently, a string of broken moans spilling from her lips.

“Oh god — yes — right there — don’t stop — don’t you fucking stop —”

You don't stop. You want more. You want to push her further, to hear her beg in that wrecked voice. Slowly, you drag your tongue upward, leaving a wet trail along her perineum until you circle the tight, puckered ring of her ass.

Gaeul freezes for a split second, then lets out a long, filthy moan that echoes through the violet-lit room.

“Yesss — fuuuck — do it. Rim me. Get that tongue in my ass, baby.”

You don’t make her wait. You flatten your tongue against her rim, lapping broad, slow strokes at first, letting her feel every inch of the warm, wet pressure. She pushes back greedily, trying to force you deeper.

“Harder — press in — fuck my ass with your mouth —”

You point your tongue and push past the tight resistance, sliding inside her in shallow thrusts. The taste is different here, musky and intimate, but it only makes your cock throb harder against the confines of your pants. One of your hands spread her wider, holding her open so you can fuck her ass with steady, insistent strokes while the other occasionally dips down to rub slow circles over her neglected clit.

Gaeul’s entire body quakes. Her arms give out and she drops to her forearms, forehead pressing against the cool stage floor as her hips rock back and forth between your tongue in her ass and the ghost of friction on her pussy.

“Shit — shit — your tongue feels so dirty — so good — eating my ass like that… you love it, don’t you? Love how tight I am around your filthy mouth…”

You hum in affirmation, the sound vibrating straight through her. One hand leaves her cheek to guide your two fingers into her dripping cunt without warning, and you plunge deep, curling strokes that find her g-spot immediately.

The combination breaks her.

“Oh fuck — fingers — tongue — both — don’t stop — don’t you dare stop —”

You pump your fingers faster, curling them in time with the thrusts of your tongue in her ass. Her walls clamp down hard around your fingers, fluttering wildly as her thighs start to shake uncontrollably.

“I’m — gonna — fuck — I’m so close — make me cum — make me cum on your face — on your fingers — please —”

Her voice cracks on the last word, turning into a high, desperate shriek. You double down, your tongue spearing deep into her ass as your fingers hammer her g-spot relentlessly.

Gaeul’s body locks up. Her back arches so sharply you think she might snap, ass pushing back hard against your face as a raw, broken scream tears from her throat.

“Fuuuuck — cumming — cumming so hard —!”

A gush of wetness floods your fingers, her pussy spasming violently around your digits while her ass clenches rhythmically around your tongue. She rides the orgasm in frantic little jerks, grinding herself against you like she’s trying to wring every last drop of pleasure from your mouth.

She keeps trembling through the aftershocks, little whimpers escaping her lips as her hips twitch involuntarily. Finally, after what feels like forever, she collapses forward onto her stomach, legs still spread, ass up, pussy and ass glistening with your spit and her release.

Panting, she glances back over her shoulder. Her pink hair is a wild, sweaty mess streaking across her face; mascara slightly smudged under her eyes from the intensity. But her gaze is still sharp, still hungry.

“Fuck…” she breathes hoarsely. “That was… better than the teaser could ever show.” A slow, wicked smile curves up her lips. “But we’re not done. Not even close.”

She shifts, rolling onto her side, then props herself up on one elbow so she can look at you properly. Her shorts are still tangled around her thighs, and her white top is pushed up just enough to expose the undersides of her breasts. Cum and spit shine on her inner thighs, catching the neon glow, shining like amethyst into your eyes.

“Come here,” she commands softly, patting the space between her and the edge of the stage. “I want to feel that cock between my thighs next. Slide it over my pussy… get us both dripping… then you’re going to fuck me so hard I forget Rei ever touched this chair.”

Her eyes flick down to the obvious, painful bulge in your pants.

“Strip. Now.”

You obey her command without a second thought and stand. Your hands fumble at your belt, and the zipper rasps open in the heavy violet silence. Pants and boxers shoved down in one rough motion, your cock springs free. It's hard, flushed, already leaking at the tip from the taste of her still coating your tongue. The cool air of the room hits your skin, but it does nothing to dull the ache; if anything, it sharpens it.

“Perfect,” she coos with satisfaction. “Look at you… so hard for me already. Rei probably had you begging by now, didn’t she? But tonight it’s my turn to make you leak.”

She bends her top knee — the one closer to the ceiling — lifting it high and straight, exactly recreating that paused teaser frame you’ve replayed 23 times. The other leg stays bent sharply at the knee, heel tucked close to her ass, creating that perfect asymmetrical V that opens her hips and frames the slick, swollen lips of her pussy peeking between her thighs. The high-cut shorts are still caught midway down her legs, fabric stretched taut across the thickest part of her thighs, but she doesn’t bother pulling them off. Instead, she reaches down with one hand and tugs them just a bit lower, enough to bare the full plush curve where thigh meets ass, enough to let her press her legs together snugly.

“Come here,” she orders again, softer this time, almost coaxing. She pats the narrow space right against her body, between her raised legs and the edge of the stage. “Slide between them. Let me feel how much you want this.”

You stand in front of her, your hips sinking slightly into the edge of the cool, sticky stage. The glitter everywhere clings to your skin immediately, tiny specks sparkling like embedded stars. You position yourself, cock throbbing as you guide it toward the tight channel she’s created. Her thighs are warm and impossibly soft yet firm, her plush muscle flexing under her smooth skin as she squeezes them together, trapping the head of your cock between them the moment it makes contact.

A low groan escapes you at the first slide. Her skin is slick from earlier — her juices, your spit, her cum, fresh arousal still leaking from her pussy — and the friction is torture: hot, wet and gripping. You push forward slowly, inch by inch, until your length is fully nestled between her thighs, the underside gliding right along her swollen folds without penetrating.

“Fuck… yes,” Gaeul breathes, head tipping back slightly so her pink hair spread wide across the stage, the glitter clining . “Just like that. Feel how wet I still am? That’s all for you… coating your needy cock because of your filthy mouth.”

She rocks her hips in a slow roll, dragging her pussy lips along the length of your shaft. The head of your cock catches on her clit with every pass, making her hiss softly through her teeth. You grip her raised leg for leverage, fingers digging into the soft flesh just above her knee, holding it high so the angle stays perfect, so you can see everything: the way her thighs clamp and release around you,

“Move,” she commands. “Fuck my thighs like you wish you could fuck me right now. Slow at first… let me feel every inch.”

You start thrusting with shallow strokes at first, savoring the way her skin molds around you. Each glide pulls a fresh bead of precum from your tip that mixes with her wetness, making the channel even slicker, the sounds obscene with wet schlicks with every pump. Her bent leg flexes, heel pressing into your shoulders as if urging you deeper into the vise of her thighs.

“Mmm… harder now,” she purrs, her voice dropping to that husky tone that makes your balls tighten. “Make it messy. I want to feel you leaking all over my pussy… marking me like Rei never could.”

You obey, snapping your hips forward with more force. The head of your cock drags directly over her clit on every upstroke and she moans louder each time. Her hips roll forward to meet you, and grinds back so her folds part around your shaft like she’s trying to swallow you without letting you inside. Her raised leg trembles in your grip, the muscles jumping under your palm as she fights to keep it lifted high. Her hips tilt with every thrust that rubs her open cunt along your length.

“God — look at us,” she gasps, glancing down between her legs to watch. “Your cock sliding between my thighs… so fucking hard… so wet from me… you’re dripping everywhere, baby. Feel that? That’s my cum mixing with yours… making everything slick.”

You groan, quickening the pace. The glitter on her skin sticks to yours now — your thighs, your abdomen where you press close. The violet rays turn it all surreal — her body glowing, your cock disappearing and reappearing between those plush thighs, every slide leaving a glossy sheen behind.

Gaeul reaches down with her free hand, fingers spreading her pussy lips wider so the next thrust glides directly through her folds, the torturous friction of her clit grinding against your underside. She whimpers brokenly.

“Faster — fuck — fuck my thighs like you’re trying to cum right here… paint my pussy with it. Do it. Cum for me. Mark me.”

The permission snaps something inside you. You pound harder, hips slapping lightly against the back of her bent leg. The sensation builds fast. Her thighs squeezes rhythmically now, milking you with every stroke, and her pussy leaks copiously around your shaft until it drips onto the stage in tiny, glittering pools. Your balls draw tight, the pressure in you coiling hot and unstoppable.

“Gaeul — I’m fuck— I’m gonna —”

“Yes — do it — cum on my pussy — give it to me —”

Three more slams and you break. A guttural groan rips from your throat as you pull back, your cock slipping free from her thighs with a wet pop. She spreads her legs wide as you stroke yourself, thick ropes of cum erupting across her exposed folds, splattering hot and white over her swollen clit, dripping down her slick lips, mixing with her own wetness in messy, glistening streaks.

Gaeul moans at the first hot splash, her hips jerking as if the warmth alone could make her cum again. She reaches down immediately, fingers spreading the mess wider, rubbing your release into her clit in slow, filthy circles, smearing it over her pussy lips until everything shines.

“Fuck… look at that,” she whispers smugly. “You came so much… all over me. Rei never got this messy, did she?” She lets you see every detail of your cum dripping slowly down her folds, pooling onto the stage below.

Panting, her eyes lock on yours, still hungry, still in control.

“Now flip me onto my hands and knees,” she says, licking a stray bead of your cum from her fingertip. “Pound this ass until I scream. Make me forget anyone else ever sat in that chair.”

Your turn.

Gaeul doesn’t give you time to catch your breath. She rolls fully onto her stomach, then pushes up onto her hands and knees in one fluid motion. She’s on all fours again, her ass presented high, back arched in that perfect, practiced curve from the teaser. Her shorts are still tangled uselessly around her knees now, and it's no longer an obstacle, just a reminder of how quickly things escalated.

She glances back at you over her shoulder. “Get behind me,” she orders. “Fuck me like you mean it. Hard. Make this ass bounce until I can’t think about anyone else who’s ever had you.”

You move without hesitation, climbing onto the stage, your knees sliding across the glitter-dusted floor until you’re positioned directly behind her. Your cock is still slick from her thighs and your own cum, throbbing painfully at the sight: her pussy glistening with your release, lips swollen and parted, and a thick pearl of your seed slowly dripping down her inner thigh. The violet lights catch it all, turning the mess into something almost hypnotic and drug-like.

You grip her hips, digging your fingers into soft flesh. One of your hands slides up to fist a handful of her pink hair, tugging her head back gently so she arches deeper.

“Yes — pull it,” she hisses. “Make me feel it.”

You line up and slam in balls-deep in one brutal thrust.

Gaeul’s entire body jolts forward with a sharp, broken cry. “Fuuuck — yes — so deep — stretch me —”

Her walls clamp down immediately, hot and slick and greedy. You don’t give her time to adjust. You pull almost all the way out, then drive back in hard, hips crashing against her ass with a loud smack. The sound echoes through the empty room, mixing with her moans.

“Harder — fuck me harder — make it hurt so good —”

You set a brutal pace, thrusting with deep, punishing strokes that make her ass ripple with every impact. Glitter transfers from her skin to your palms, marking where you grip her with sparkling handprints. Her thighs tremble, and her knees slide wider on the glossy floor as she pushes back to meet you, desperate to take more.

“God — look at you — pounding my pussy like you own it,” she pants between thrusts. “Rei never took you this rough, did she? Never made you lose control like this —”

“No,” you grunt, yanking her hair a little harder. “Never.”

She laughs breathlessly. “Good. Then ruin me. Make this cunt yours. Make me scream louder than she ever did.”

You angle deeper, hitting that spot that makes her walls flutter wildly. Each thrust drives a fresh gush of wetness down her thighs, mixing with the drying streaks of your cum earlier. The wet slapping of skin on skin fills the air. It’s obscene and relentless.

Gaeul’s arms start to shake. You lean forward and press her head down onto the floor, her cheeks sticking onto the glitter everywhere. Her ass is still high and her back arches into an obscene curve. The new angle lets you pound even deeper.

“Right there — fuck — right fucking there — don’t stop — don’t you dare stop —”

You pound harder and faster, your hips blurring. One hand leaves her hair to slap her ass, sending sharp cracks that leave glittery handprints glowing under the neon. She clenches around you violently at each impact, milking you, pulling you deeper.

“I’m — gonna — cum again — fuck — make me cum on your cock — please —”

You reach around, fingers finding her swollen clit and rub with fast, rough circles.

That breaks her.

Her raw and animalistic scream tears through the room. Her pussy spasms hard around you, walls rippling in violent waves as she comes undone. Fresh wetness floods out, soaking your thighs, dripping onto the glittering floor in shining puddles. The intensity of her clenches pushes you out of her, but her whole body locks before shuddering violently. She gasps and jerks her back against you desperately, stuffing your cock back in her like she’s trying to fuck herself through the aftershocks.

You don’t stop thrusting, riding her orgasm out, prolonging it until she’s whimpering, oversensitive and trembling.

But she’s not done.

Suddenly she pulls forward and your cock slips free, before flipping onto her back in one swift motion. Before you can react, she’s pushing you down onto the floor, straddling your hips.

“My turn,” she growls.

She sinks down hard, taking you to the hilt in one smooth drop. You both groan at the sudden, deep heat. “B-back home. This cock is mine.” Gaeul grunts possessively, her walls still pulsing from her climax, fluttering around you like they’re trying to pull you in forever.

She plants her hands on your chest and she starts to ride fast and rough, her ass slamming down onto your thighs with wet smacks.

“Look at me,” she demands. “Watch my tits bounce.”

The white top pushed up, bunched under her pits. Her small tight breasts bounce freely with every downward thrust, perfect perky with nipples hard and dark against pale skin. You reach up immediately, spreading glitter across her body as your hands cup them, thumbs flicking over the peaks.

“Yes — squeeze them — hard —”

You knead roughly, pinching her nipples between your thumbs and middle fingers while your index fingers rub the top, rolling them until she gasps. She leans forward, her pink hair falling around you like a veil, trapping you in her sweat, glitter, and scent.

“Fuck — bite them if you want — mark me — make them hurt —”

You surge up, mouth closing around one nipple, sucking hard, teeth grazing just enough to make her cry out. She grinds down harder, hips circling frantically, then slamming again and again, riding you like she’s trying to break you.

“God — your cock feels so good — filling me up — stretching me — better than anyone —”

Her pace turns brutal and her ass bounces wildly, thighs flexing with every rise and fall. Sweat beads down her spine, dripping onto your chest.

She reaches down between you, fingers rubbing frantic circles over her clit while she rides.

“I’m close again — fuck — cum with me —cum inside — fill me up — don’t pull out —”

“The contract —”

“Fuck the contract,” she snarls, slamming down even harder. “I want it. Breed me. Spill every drop deep where it belongs.”

Her legs lock around your hips, pinning you in place. She smashes down relentlessly, pussy walls clamping like a vice.

You can’t hold back anymore.

The pressure snaps.

You groan, hips bucking up as you erupt inside her, spilling in thick, hot pulses that floods her depths. She keeps riding through it, milking every spurt, drawing it out until you’re both oversensitive and shaking.

Gaeul collapses forward onto your chest, her pussy still clenching around your softening cock. Cum starts to leak out around you, dripping down your balls and onto the glittering floor.

She kisses your jaw lazily, her breath hot against your skin. “See?” she whispers, smug and satisfied. “My teaser was better. And the real thing… will be unforgettable.”

She shifts slightly, letting more of your release drip free, watching it with a wicked smile.

“Next time,” she murmurs as she traces a glittery finger through the mess on your chest, “maybe I’ll make Rei watch. Let her see exactly how jealous she should be.”

The violet lights pulses continuously overhead, and the room is thick with the scent of sex and stardust.