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The doorbell rang. Jiwon groaned into her hands. The repair guy was early. She hadn't even finished stacking her worksheet onto the crooked IKEA shelf, the same one she'd assembled wrong twice before giving up and kicking it into place.
"Just a second!" she called, tripping over a half-unpacked box of teacups. The AC wheezed behind her, blowing lukewarm air. She yanked the door open expecting an old technician. Instead, a guy in a faded gray shirt stood there, toolbox in one hand, scratching his cheek with the other.
"Lee Jinho," he said, blinking slowly. "From 3B."
Jiwon stared. This wasn't some repairman this was *the* Lee Jinho from 3B, She heard about him when she arrived at the apartment. "Oh," she said, voice cracking slightly. "Right. The… handy guy."
Jinho grinned. "Handyman, but yeah." He nodded toward the AC, which chose that moment to shudder loudly. "Sounds about right."
Jiwon stepped aside, suddenly aware of the mess, laundry piled on the couch, unopened ramen packets stacked like a monument to her procrastination. Jinho didn't seem to notice. He walked past her and dropped his toolbox by the AC.
"Damn," he whistled, crouching to check the vents. "This thing's older than my grandma." He pried open the panel easily, revealing dusty wires and what looked like a dried leaf. "You ever clean this?"
"I just moved in," Jiwon said defensively. "It was like this when I got here."
Jinho snorted. "Landlord special." He pulled out a can of compressed air and blew out a cloud of dust so thick it looked like a sandstorm. The AC gasped and went silent.
"Did you kill it?" Jiwon asked.
"Nah," Jinho said, voice muffled as he dug inside. "Just gave it a break." There was a clang, then a curse. "Found the problem." He held up a corroded fuse like it was a dead bug. "This thing's been running on hope."
Jiwon squinted at it. "Can you fix it?"
"Not yet." Jinho wiped his hands on his jeans. "I need a new fuse. I'll grab one from my place."
Before she could protest, he was already at the door. "Be back in five," he called, jogging down the hallway. The door clicked shut.
Jiwon wiped her sweaty forehead. The apartment felt hotter without him. She cracked a window, but the outside air was just as stale. Her shirt clung to her back. When the knock came, she nearly tripped rushing to answer.
Jinho stood there, slightly out of breath, holding up a small bag. "Got it," he said, shaking it. The fuse rattled inside.
He went straight to the AC, popping in the new fuse. Jiwon hovered behind him, arms crossed. The air felt thicker now, her skin prickling with sweat.
Jinho flipped the breaker. For a second, nothing happened, then the AC roared to life, blowing cool air.
"Told you," Jinho said, grinning as he wiped his dusty hands on his jeans. "Just needed love. And a fuse that wasn't Jurassic."
Without thinking, Jiwon hugged him tight, face pressed into his shirt. He smelled good even when drenched in sweat. She registered his solid warmth for a few seconds, then jumped back like she'd been burned.
"Sorry!" she squeaked, flapping her hands. Her face burned hotter than the apartment had been. "I don't know why I did that."
Jinho just laughed. "No worries, Miss Park." He gathered his tools. "Consider it part of the service." He snapped his toolbox shut. "You can pay me later, if the AC doesn't act up in the next week." His grin was teasing. "Which it won't. Because I'm that good."
Jiwon tugged at her shirt, suddenly aware how ridiculous she must look sweaty and flustered. "Thanks," she muttered stiffly.
"You should change the filter soon," Jinho added, nodding at the vents. "Unless you like breathing old dust."
"How much would that cost?" Jiwon asked, mentally calculating her budget.
"80 to 100k won," Jinho said. "Or cheaper if you buy the filter. I'll install it for free."
Jiwon blinked. "For free?"
Jinho grinned. "Well, you *will* pay me for the AC repair. The filter's complementary." He winked at her.
Jiwon's brain short-circuited. "That's not how business works."
Jinho leaned against the doorframe. "It is when your neighbor's cute," he said casually.
Jiwon pointed at him, finger hovering. "That's *unprofessional*."
Jinho laughed loudly. "Relax, Jiwon-ssi. I'm kidding. Mostly." He swung his toolbox. "The free labor's a 'welcome to the building' gift. Everyone gets one."
The next day.
Jinho parked his van crookedly across two spots. The brakes squeaked. He didn’t care about lines, never had. As the afternoon light faded, he turned off the engine with a twist of his wrist. His back cracked when he stretched. Three jobs today: leaky pipes and a chatty grandmother who forced kimchi pancakes on him until he could barely move.
Jiwon saw the van first. The dented bumper and peeling "Handy Man & More" decal were unmistakable. She was coming from the bus stop, her satchel heavy with worksheets and half-graded student assignments. Her steps slowed without meaning to. She watched Jinho hop out, his shirt riding up just enough to show a strip of sun-warmed skin as he grabbed his toolbox.
The elevator doors were closing when she ran up. "Hold the door!" she called, more breathless than she meant to be. Jinho’s hand shot out, stopping the doors effortlessly. "Fancy meeting you here," he said with a crooked grin as she slipped in beside him. His fingers tapped his toolbox.
Jiwon adjusted her satchel strap, hyper-aware of how close they stood. "Long day?" she asked, nodding at his dusty shirt.
Jinho rolled his shoulders with a groan. "Mrs. Lee’s ancient plumbing picked today to give up," he said, rubbing dried grime off his arm. "Three hours of convincing her pipes not to flood the place." He flashed her a grin. "You?"
Jiwon lifted her satchel slightly. "Middle schoolers who think Mozart 'needs more bass drops.'"
The elevator dinged at the third floor. Jinho stepped halfway out, then turned to hold the door. "Tell them to try Beethoven with trap beats," he said flatly. "Really mess with their heads."
She snorted. "Maybe that’ll stop them from requesting BTS arrangements for cello quartet."
His laugh echoed as the doors closed between them. Through the narrowing gap, she caught the shake of his shoulders and the edge of a tattoo under his rolled-up sleeve. Then the elevator jerked upward, cutting off her view.
At home, Jiwon barely remembered locking the door before yanking off her damp shirt. It clung stubbornly to her sweaty skin. Her satchel hit the coffee table hard, scattering worksheets everywhere. She kicked off her socks mid-stride, leaving them crumpled near the bathroom. Her jeans fought her, that stubborn button before she finally shimmied out with a groan.
The shower hissed to life before she was fully in. The first lukewarm spray hit her shoulders like a slap. She gasped, flinching away before forcing herself under the water. The pressure was weak, another thing to complain about later but right now, it was perfect. She tipped her head back, letting the water rinse the day away. Steam filled the tiny bathroom.
Blindly, she grabbed the soap. as she scrubbed. The water warmed finally, easing the knots in her shoulders. She closed her eyes, letting the heat sink in.
After the shower, the humid air clung to her skin. She toweled off fast, digging through her dresser for something breathable. She landed on an old spaghetti strap top and shorts so short they’d shock her mother. Perfect. She pulled them on without thinking. The cool cotton felt good against her warm skin.
She paused just a second before pulling out an old hoodie from the back of her closet oversized, frayed at the edges, stolen from an ex years ago. She tugged it on, the sleeves swallowing her hands, and stared at herself in the mirror. Did she look homeless, or just defeated? The mirror seemed to say *both*.
The convenience store doors slid open with a tired wheeze just as she adjusted the hoodie’s drooping neckline. Harsh fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, stretching her shadow across the linoleum. She headed straight for the refrigerated section, flip-flops slapping against the tile. A pack of kimbap, the last one, slightly crushed caught her eye. She grabbed it without thinking, along with a bottle of soju so cold it stung her fingers.
The store’s AC blasted so hard she could see her own breath as she turned toward the cashier then froze. Jinho was already there, dumping instant rice and boiled eggs onto the counter like a man who’d given up on cooking. His ramyeon packet slid after them. He didn’t notice her at first, too busy digging for his wallet while the cashier sighed at his sad dinner choices.
Jiwon’s grip tightened around the soju. She could still retreat, pretend she forgot something but Jinho glanced over his shoulder and spotted her. His eyebrows shot up. "Jiwon-ssi," he said, grinning. "Fancy meeting you here." He nodded at her soju. "Big plans?"
Her palm was sweaty. His sad dinner ramyeon, a boiled egg, and instant rice sat between them. Before she could stop herself: "You wanna drink this at my place?"
Jinho nearly dropped his bag. The plastic crinkled loudly as they walked back toward the apartments. "That’s sudden," he said, amused. "Everything okay?"
She kept her eyes ahead, swinging the soju lightly. "Just being neighborly."
He shrugged. "Sure. Why not?"
Silence.
The quiet between them was thick. Jinho drummed his fingers against his thigh. Jiwon focused on the sound of her flip-flops. She could feel him glancing at her, but when she looked, he was staring straight ahead.
Three steps later, he cracked first. "So," he drawled. "Middleschoolers and Beethoven trap remixes, huh?"
She snorted, tension dissolving. "Oh my god," she laughed, punching his arm. "You’re *awful*."
He clutched his arm dramatically. "Violence? I thought music teachers were supposed to be *gentle*." He wobbled like a Victorian heroine, his dinner swinging absurdly. "I’m wounded, Jiwon-ssi."
They laughed, breathless then their eyes met. Jinho’s grin froze. Jiwon’s laughter died. The streetlamp flickered, casting his face in gold. Two realizations hit her: his eyelashes were unfairly long for a handyman, and they were standing *way* too close.
The silence buzzed until Jinho cleared his throat. "So," he said, voice rough. "We’re here."
She blinked. The apartment lobby loomed ahead. They both reached for the keycard sensor at the same time, fingers brushing. A spark real or imagined jumped between them. She yanked her hand back like she’d been burned.
The elevator doors slid open. They stepped inside. Jinho leaned against the back wall, shifting his weight. The plastic bag in his hand crinkled. His thumb hovered over the third-floor button but Jiwon caught his wrist.
Her grip was light. Just fingers brushing his pulse. But Jinho froze like she'd shocked him.
She stared at him. The elevator light flickered. Her jaw was set. Her bangs clung to her forehead, damp. Jinho's breath hitched when her eyes dropped to his mouth.
"You have," Jiwon whispered, "the most annoying smirk." Her grip tightened slightly. Thumb pressing into his wrist.
Jinho didn't pull away. His fingers twitched under her touch. The rice bag crinkled as his grip loosened. His free hand moved to the buttons then pressed the fourth floor.
The elevator lurched up. Jiwon gasped when Jinho twisted his wrist, palm up to catch hers. His skin was rough. Calluses scraped her knuckles. The light buzzed overhead, flickering shadows across his smirk.
"You missed our floor," she said. The panel blinked *4*. Jinho's thumb circled her pulse.
The doors opened to a dim hallway. Jiwon yanked him forward. Flip-flops slapped linoleum as she dragged him toward her apartment. Jinho stumbled after her,his dinner swinging wildly.
"Jiwon-ssi," he started, voice rough. But she cut him off with a sharp look. Her hoodie slipped, revealing her tank top strap. Jinho swallowed hard. His fingers twitched in her grip.
She barely got the door unlocked before shoving him inside. The Plastic Bag hit the floor as the door slammed shut.
Jiwon grabbed his shirt and yanked him down. Their mouths crashed together. Teeth clicked. Jinho staggered back against the door. His hands slid up her waist, gripping tight.
He cupped her ass through her shorts and lifted her effortlessly. She gasped. Legs wrapped around his hips. They stumbled over near the coffee table. The couch dipped under their weight as he lowered her onto it.
Her hoodie bunched around her elbows. Jinho's mouth trailed down her neck. She arched into him. His teeth grazed her collarbone. His work shirt scratched her bare stomach where her tank top had ridden up.
His lips found her tank top strap. Teeth caught the fabric. A sharp tug and it fell away, baring her breast. His mouth descended before she could gasp.
Jiwon yanked his head up by the hair. "You're that hungry, huh?" she teased, breath hot on his lips.
Jinho grinned. "You're just too delicious to pass up, Ms. Park." He kissed her again, swallowing her laugh. The couch creaked as he leaned over her.
She pulled his shirt up impatiently. He wrestled it off and tossed it aside. They shifted to sitting. Jiwon shrugged out of her hoodie and threw it away. She grabbed the back of his neck and shoved his face back to her breast. "Again," she demanded.
Jinho groaned against her skin. His tongue flicked her nipple in quick circles. She arched with a gasp. Her nails scraped down his bare back.
His stubble scratched the soft underside of her breast. Teeth grazed just enough to make her thighs clench. "You're—*fuck*—good at this," she moaned.
Jinho yanked his pants down and kicked them aside. Jiwon tore off her tank top and shorts in quick motions. A flip-flop skidded across the floor.
They paused. Her in just lace panties. Him in boxers. Chests rising fast. His gaze dragged down her body, lingering on her quick breaths, the sweat on her throat.
She hooked her ankle around his. He stumbled forward with a grunt. Caught himself on the armrest. Hand digging into her thigh. "Impatient," he muttered, voice cracking.
Jinho's teeth grazed her nipple. Tongue flicking in teasing circles. His calloused hand slid down her stomach. Fingers dipped under her soaked panties before she could catch her breath. "Christ, you're wet," he muttered against her skin.
Jiwon laughed a breathy, half-moan sound as she tangled her fingers in Jinho's hair and pulled just hard enough to make him groan. "Fix my pipe too, Jinho-ssi?" she gasped, thighs tightening around his wandering hand. "Heard you're good with... tools."
Jinho's head snapped up. His pupils were so wide they swallowed the brown of his eyes. He stared at her for a second, mouth wet, chest heaving before a slow grin spread across his face. "Depends," he murmured, dragging his thumb through her slick folds with agonizing slowness. "You want a quick fix?" His finger circled her clit once, twice—just enough to make her hips jerk. "Or a full remodel?"
Jiwon tugged him down by the hair. "Both," she whispered against his lips before biting his lower lip and kissing him again. Jinho groaned into it, hands scrambling at his waistband. His boxers slid down with one impatient shove, his cock springing free to slap against her stomach with a wet sound.
The heat of him made Jiwon gasp. She broke the kiss to look down. His cock was hard, thick, the tip glistening where it pressed against her soaked panties. She could feel the wetness seeping through the fabric, his precum smearing on her skin as he rocked his hips in a teasing grind.
"Christ," Jinho hissed, forehead dropping to her shoulder as he rubbed against her. "You're fucking drenched—" His voice cracked when Jiwon hooked a thumb under her panties and yanked them aside, exposing herself. The air felt cold on her bare skin, but Jinho's groan was hotter, his cock twitching against her thigh as he lined up.
Jiwon yanked his hips forward—hard. The scream tore from her throat before she could stop it. "Fuck—*fuck*—" Her nails dug into his hips as he bottomed out inside her in one rough thrust. She hadn't expected his size, hadn't prepared for how he stretched her, the burn sharp enough to make her toes curl.
"Jesus *Christ*," Jinho gasped above her, body trembling. Sweat dripped from his brow onto her collarbone. "You just *yanked* me in—"
Jiwon tried to laugh, tried to make a joke about plumbing, but Jinho rolled his hips just once and the sound she made wasn't laughter. It was a ragged moan, her thighs clamping around his hips like she could keep him there forever.
Her thighs tightened around him as her orgasm hit. She arched off the couch with a choked cry, vision whiting out as Jinho drove into her. Each thrust dragged against her oversensitive walls until she was sobbing into his neck.
Jinho groaned against her collarbone, teeth scraping skin as she pulsed around him. With a curse, he pulled out just in time, cock twitching violently in his hand as he came. The first thick stripe hit her cheekbone with a wet slap. Her tongue darted out instinctively to catch the second spurt that landed on her lips. The taste, salt, musk, *Jinho* flooded her mouth as he groaned above her.
"Look at you," he rasped, thumb smearing cum across her chin before pushing into her mouth. She sucked it clean with a moan, thighs still twitching from her own climax. His cock dripped the last few drops onto her nose with absurd precision. She licked it off, giggling at his reaction.
Jinho wiped her face clean with his hoodie, touch unexpectedly gentle after how rough he'd been. He kissed her soft, chaste before pulling back. "So," he said, voice rough but light, "are we still drinking that soju?"
Jiwon smirked. "Maybe we should eat first," she murmured, fingers tracing his throat. "Then soju... *then* fuck again."
Jinho laughed hoarse, strained as his cock twitched against her thigh. "Demanding," he teased.
The next morning, Jiwon woke to Jinho's arm draped possessively over her waist. Memories flooded back how he'd dragged her back to bed after their shower, growled *"mine"* against her throat, left sticky evidence of their third round drying on her skin. She twisted free, knee bumping his thigh as she scrambled off the mattress.
Jinho grunted, hand flopping onto the warm spot she'd left. "Five more minutes," he mumbled into the pillow.
Jiwon whacked him lightly with a pillow. "You gotta go, Oppa." The pillowcase smelled like sweat and sex. "We both need to get to work."
Jinho cracked one eye open, grinning. "Make me," he challenged, fingers tracing lazy patterns up her bare thigh.
Jiwon wrapped her hand around his half-hard cock and yanked—hard. His hips jerked off the mattress with a choked gasp. "We need to shower," she announced, dragging him toward the bathroom by sheer force of grip and anatomy.
Jinho hissed through his teeth as she hauled him off the bed, knees hitting the hardwood with a thud. The cold air slapped him awake better than coffee as she marched him naked toward the bathroom, his erection bobbing with each stumbling step. "Christ, woman—" he wheezed, clutching her wrist "you're gonna rip it *off*"
The shower spray hit Jiwon's back in tiny pinpricks. Jinho's soapy hands slid down her waist. "Missed a spot," he murmured against her ear, teeth grazing her earlobe. His fingers traced the bruises he'd left on her inner thighs last night.
"*Jinho*," she hissed as his other hand cupped her breast. "We don't have time—*ah*—" Her protest dissolved into a moan when his teeth scraped her shoulder blade.
"You started this," he reminded her, fingers working her open with agonizing patience. Steam fogged the bathroom into a hazy dreamscape where time didn't exist, just the slick slide of his fingers inside her, the way her toes curled against the wet porcelain.
By the time they stumbled out damp, sated, catastrophically late, Jiwon's blouse was half-untucked, skirt zipper refusing to cooperate. Jinho watched from the doorway, shamelessly shirtless, jeans straining over his hips. "Stop staring," she muttered, though her gaze lingered on the fresh bite marks she'd left on his collarbone.
Jinho grinned, grabbing her wrist as she tried to pass him. "You forgot something." He yanked her close and kissed her hard enough to make her knees wobble. When he pulled back, her lipstick was smeared beyond repair. "Parking lot," he reminded her, swatting her ass with a crisp *smack*. "Don't keep me waiting."
It starts with silence. The announcement drops quietly, no buildup, no warning beyond what could be mistaken for routine corporate scheduling. But in reality, nothing about it was routine at all. It was almost too detached, too clinical. The announcement that hit harder than it should:
“We would like to inform you about the status of ITZY member Lia’s health and her future activities…”
“…we decided that Lia will not participate in scheduled activities starting from today and will take a break for the time being to focus on her treatment.”
It was a simple statement of facts “Lia is going on Hiatus until further notice” there was no drama in the wording. That made it worse. Because for everyone outside the group, it was news. But for ITZY, it was a rupture, for Yeji, Ryujin, Chaeryeong, and Yuna— they were as clueless as to Lia’s condition as MIDZY was.
Yeji reads it a second time, and then a third time. It wasn’t that she didn’t understand, but because she did. She is the leader, but the title suddenly feels meaningless when she realizes she had been kept in the dark too. Yet despite the feeling of betrayal running in her blood at that moment, there was only one question that kept running on repeat within the confines of her mind: “How long was Lia carrying this alone?”
It wasn’t even hours after the announcement and inside the dorm— the dynamic shifts immediately. No one said anything related to the topic out loud, the members were already affected by the sudden news, and everyone was already walking on eggshells.
Ryujin wasn’t loud or subtle about it. She started to withdraw emotionally, distant in ways that feel intentional.
Chaeryeong became more careful with her words, she was already fragile from her own internal conflicts and with becoming informed of Lia’s hiatus— as if the slightest mistake might shatter whatever fragile balance remained.
Yuna kept a façade. She talked more than usual, as if believing that overcompensating would make up for Lia’s absence or would bring her back sooner, but that only felt like a noise filling in empty space. Words that believe they were hiding a pain with loudness instead.
Yeji just stops sleeping, questioning herself as the leader her group deserves to have. Running back anything in her mind to what she could’ve missed that would have hinted to the pain Lia hid from everyone else.
The comeback cycle does not stop. The industry demands continuation even as if nothing has changed. The managers were hesitant on the day to announce to them about the upcoming comeback, and its name was bitterly ironic— BORN TO BE. As if the company was hinting that the group was about to be reborn as four. Every schedule felt heavier the passing day. Every rehearsal slightly longer. Evert crack within the members slightly more noticeable.
Every crack within the members became slightly more noticeable. Not all at once— that would have been easier to confront. It happened in smaller ways. A missed laugh here, a delayed response there. A water bottle left untouched after rehearsal because no one remembered who it belonged to anymore. The practice room became the first place where Lia’s absence stopped being an announcement and started becoming a shape. One empty space in the formation, adjusted by the choreographer with professional efficiency, as if rearranging bodies could make the loss feel smaller.
“Again, from the second verse,” the choreographer called.
No one complained. Ryujin wiped the sweat from her neck and returned to position without a word. Chaeryeong nodded too quickly, already apologizing under her breath before she had even made a mistake. Yuna smiled at the mirror, bright and practiced, but it didn’t reach her eyes. Yeji stood at the center.
“Music.” The track started again.
They moved like professionals because that was what they were— Sharp. Clean. Controlled. Four bodies forcing themselves to fill a space that used to belong to five. For the first few counts, it almost worked. Then Chaeryeong’s foot landed half a beat late. She caught herself immediately. “Sorry.” No one blamed her. That made her look even more ashamed. “It’s fine,” Yeji said quickly. Too quickly. “Again.” The choreographer glanced at the clock. “You’ve been at this for hours. Take five first.”
“I’m okay,” Yeji answered, she didn’t ask the others.
Ryujin looked at her through the mirror, expression unreadable. For a second, it looked like she wanted to say something. Instead, she turned away and reached for her towel. Yuna clapped once, too loudly. “We’re almost there! It’s fine, right? We just need to clean it a little more.”
Her voice bounced against the walls and came back thinner. Chaeryeong only nodded.
The music played again. And again. And again. By the time the staff finally called the rehearsal over, the room smelled of sweat, floor cleaner, and exhaustion. The kind of exhaustion that no amount of sleep could fix because sleep was no longer the problem. One by one, they packed their things. Yuna was still talking as she zipped her bag, asking if anyone wanted convenience store snacks, if they should order food, if they should maybe watch something funny back at the dorm. She kept offering pieces of normal life like she was handing out bandages.
No one really answered. Chaeryeong smiled anyway, small and tired “Maybe later.” Ryujin slung her bag over one shoulder “I’m going ahead”. She didn’t wait for anyone to respond. The door closed behind her. For a moment, the room was quiet. Then Yeji walked back to the center of the floor. Chaeryeong noticed first “Unnie?” Yeji didn’t even look back to Chaeryeong “I’ll just run it once more". Yuna’s smile faltered. “But we’re done". Yeji faced the mirror “I know, just one more.” No one believed her. But no one stopped her either. That became the pattern, not because they didn’t care. Because everyone was too tired to know what caring was supposed to look like anymore.
The dorm was quieter now than it had ever been before, it wasn’t a peaceful silence either. The television stayed on most nights without anyone truly watching it. Variety shows played into empty space while half-finished drinks gathered on the table beside unopened delivery containers that had long gone cold. The members moved around each other carefully, like people afraid of making too much noise in a room already filled with tension. It became normal to hear footsteps at three in the morning. Sometimes it was Chaeryeong walking into the kitchen for water she barely drank before returning to her room. Sometimes it was Ryujin sitting alone on the couch in the dark with her phone face-down beside her, not scrolling, not sleeping either. Yuna filled silence whenever she could, but even she slowly started running out of things to say. And Yeji— she stopped pretending she slept at all.
At first, it was subtle enough to hide behind makeup and schedules. Dark circles covered by stylists who were paid to make exhaustion invisible. Energy drinks appearing more frequently beside practice notes. Longer moments staring blankly at mirrors before someone called her name and she snapped back into herself. But exhaustion always collects interest eventually.
One night after rehearsal, Yuna fell asleep sitting upright against the side of the couch, head tilted awkwardly with her phone still in her hand. The television cast pale blue light across the dorm while rain tapped quietly against the windows outside. Chaeryeong had already gone to bed. Ryujin emerged from the hallway with damp hair and an oversized shirt hanging loosely over her frame. She slowed when she saw Yuna asleep. Then she noticed Yeji who was still awake. Still sitting at the dining table, papers spread out in front of her. Schedule sheets, notes, performance breakdowns, handwritten reminders layered over company printouts until it all blurred together into meaningless clutter.
Ryujin leaned against the wall. “You’re still doing that?”
Yeji didn’t look up immediately. “Mm.”
RY: It’s two in the morning.
YJ: We have recording tomorrow.
RY: We always have something tomorrow.
Yeji finally glanced up, tired eyes meeting Ryujin’s for only a second before dropping back to the papers. “I know.” Ryujin observed her leader— that was becoming normal too. Not arguments. Not concern spoken aloud. Just observation. The kind people did when they noticed something getting worse but didn’t know where to place their hands without accidentally breaking it further.
“You missed dinner again,” Ryujin said eventually.
“I ate earlier" Yeji said unconvincingly. Ryujin socffed at her “You’re a terrible liar.” That almost earned a smile. Almost. Yeji rubbed her eyes instead. “Why are you awake?” Ryujin shrugged lightly. “Couldn’t sleep.” Neither of them acknowledged how often that answer had started appearing lately. Rain continued tapping softly against the glass. For a while, neither spoke. Then Ryujin walked closer to the table, gaze drifting across the papers scattered there.
“You reorganized the rehearsal schedule?”
“The spacing was off,” Yeji muttered.
Ryujin frowned slightly. “You know that’s the staff’s job, right?”
“If I can make things easier for everyone, then why not?”
The answer came too fast. Too automatic.
Ryujin’s eyes lingered on her longer this time. There it is, she thought. That isn't leadership anymore, it was compensation. Yeji was trying to carry everything now. The performances. The atmosphere. The morale. The silence. Lia’s absence. The pressure of making sure four people still looked complete under stage lights designed for five. And the frightening part was how naturally she was accepting it. Ryujin pulled out the chair beside her and sat down without asking. Yeji blinked. “What are you doing?” Ryujin just sat there looking at her phone.
“Keeping you company.”
“You don’t have to.”
“I know.” Another silence settled between them.
A silience that showed tiredness no one wanted to say outloud. The kind built between people too exhausted to perform normality anymore.
Ryujin leaned back slightly, arms folded loosely across her chest. “You know none of us blame you, right?” Yeji’s hand stopped moving.
Only for a second— then she continued reorganizing papers that no longer needed reorganizing. “I know,” she said softly. But Ryujin could tell from the way her shoulders tightened that she didn’t believe it at all.
After that, the days started losing their shape. Morning schedules bled into evening rehearsals. Airport terminals became more familiar than the dorm itself. Staff voices, countdowns, makeup touch-ups, stage cues— everything eventually merged together into one endless routine of movement and noise. The comeback preparations consumed them completely. At some point, meals stopped becoming something shared. Food turned into half-finished containers left around the dorm table for whoever remembered they were hungry first. Energy drinks appeared more frequently than water bottles. Sleep became something negotiated between schedules instead of something naturally expected at the end of the day. And somehow, despite everything— BORN TO BE was successful.
That was the strange part. The stages trended online. The performances were praised. Fans admired how stable they looked despite continuing as four. Articles called them resilient. Strong. Professional. Yeji started quietly hating those words. Because strong people were expected to continue. Strong people didn’t get to stop. The practice room mirrors reflected the proof of that every night.
Sometimes Yuna still tried to hold the atmosphere together. Small jokes thrown into rehearsals. Dramatic reactions exaggerated just enough to make the others laugh for a few seconds. Sometimes she would intentionally mess up choreography near Chaeryeong just to hear her complain and smile at the same time. But even Yuna’s energy started fading around the edges eventually. The louder she became, the easier it was to notice how exhausted she really looked afterward.
Ryujin changed more subtly.She stopped joking during rehearsals as much. Stopped teasing staff members between takes. Stopped reaching for conversation unless someone else started it first. Instead, she observed.
Yeji staying behind after rehearsals. She even rereads schedules during van rides. Yeji would answer questions before managers could. She started apologizing for things that weren’t her fault. The frightening part was how natural it all started looking.
Even Chaeryeong adapted to it eventually. Her apologies became automatic. “Sorry" would slip out of her constantly now. Sorry for mistakes. Sorry for delays. Sorry for being tired. Sorry for forgetting things. One night Ryujin counted seven apologies in less than ten minutes before silently giving up halfway through. No one pointed it out anymore.
The schedules only became worse after promotions began. Interviews blurred together into identical rooms and repeated questions. Hotel hallways all started looking the same. Some nights the members fell asleep still wearing partial stage makeup because nobody had enough energy left to finish removing it properly. And through all of it, Yeji continued moving forward like someone terrified of what would happen if she slowed down even once.
The world tour started not long after— despite all four of them not wanting to tour without Lia, but it was the company's choice. That was when the isolation truly settled in. Airports, security escorts, fans screaming loud enough to shake the walls outside terminals. Then silence again the moment hotel doors closed behind them. Different country, a different room. But the same exhaustion. The members spent more time together than almost anyone else in their lives yet somehow began feeling further apart emotionally with each passing month.
Conversations became shorter. Everyone started saying “I’m okay” too quickly. There were nights where the only sounds inside hotel rooms were television noise and the humming of air conditioning units running too cold. One evening somewhere halfway through the tour, Yuna fell asleep during hair and makeup while staff members quietly continued working around her. Nobody laughed. Not because it wasn’t endearing. Because everyone else looked one bad day away from doing the same thing.
Another time, Chaeryeong burst into tears in the middle of rehearsal after forgetting choreography she had already practiced dozens of times. The crying itself seemed to scare her more than the mistake did. “I’m sorry,” she kept repeating through uneven breaths. “I know it already, I don’t know why I can’t—”
Yeji hugged her immediately. Too immediately. Like it was instinctually her responsibility as the leader instead of as a friend. Like if she held everyone together tightly enough, maybe nothing else would fall apart.
Ryujin watched from the side of the room, jaw tightening slightly. Because even then— even exhausted, even emotionally drowning herself Yeji still only knew how to become stronger for everyone else first.
The tour continued anyway. That became the answer to everything eventually. Fatigue, homesickness, and silence. The answer was always the same: Keep moving.
Country after country blurred together until the members stopped remembering where certain memories came from. Hotel ceilings changed shapes but never atmosphere. Waiting rooms stayed cold no matter what city they were in. Staff members rotated in shifts while ITZY continued existing in the strange in-between state of constantly being seen and never truly perceived.
The performances remained good. That was the unsettling part of it— maybe even better than before. There was a desperation hidden inside them now that audiences mistook for passion. Every movement sharper. Every stage heavier. Every expression carrying an intensity that translated beautifully under lights and cameras while slowly hollowing them out behind the scenes. People praised their professionalism constantly.
Yeji learned to smile every time she heard it. Somewhere during the middle stretch of the tour, Ryujin stopped trying to convince Yeji to rest. Not because she stopped caring. Because she realized Yeji no longer knew how. Instead, she started staying nearby. Sometimes beside her during flights while Yeji reorganized schedules she had no responsibility handling herself. Sometimes sitting silently in rehearsal rooms long after staff members left. Sometimes awake at four in the morning in hotel kitchens where neither of them touched the food sitting between them. No dramatic conversations ever happened. That somehow made it sadder.
Chaeryeong became more emotionally careful over time. She watched everyone closely now before speaking, as if constantly measuring the emotional temperature of every room she entered. The more exhausted everyone became, the more she shrank herself instinctively trying not to become another problem someone else needed to carry.
Yuna noticed it too. So, she compensated harder. Louder reactions. Brighter smiles. More touching. More attempts at pulling everyone together during meals and backstage downtime. Sometimes she would drag the members into group selfies nobody really had energy for anymore just because she missed how things used to feel. Most of those pictures still ended up online. Fans called them cute. None of the members had the heart to say those moments usually ended in silence seconds later.
Then eventually— Lia came back. There was no dramatic reunion. No tears the moment the door opened. No emotional release powerful enough to undo over a year of accumulated exhaustion. Just hesitation and carefulness. The strange awkwardness of people trying desperately to return to a version of themselves that no longer existed in quite the same way anymore.
The first rehearsal as five again felt unfamiliar. Not wrong. Just unfamiliar. Everyone kept looking at Lia like they were trying to reassure themselves she was actually there. Lia noticed the changes immediately. Yeji smiling too quickly whenever someone asked if she was okay. Chaeryeong apologizing before speaking. Yuna filling every silence before it could fully settle. Ryujin watching everyone constantly while pretending she wasn’t. And beneath all of it— exhaustion. Not temporary exhaustion. The kind that settled deep enough into people that they started mistaking survival for normalcy.
Lia carried guilt for it almost instantly. Not because anyone blamed her. That was the problem— nobody blamed her at all. Which somehow made her feel worse. The group slowly adjusted again after her return. Interviews became easier as five. Formations looked complete again. Fans celebrated the feeling of wholeness returning to ITZY after months of uncertainty.
Then GOLD happened, the first comeback as five— and publicly, everything finally looked fixed. The performances were stable again. The group chemistry looked natural during promotions. Variety appearances felt lighter. Smiles came easier on camera now that Lia was back beside them. To everyone outside the group, ITZY looked recovered. That illusion became dangerously convincing. Because even the members themselves slowly started believing it sometimes.
Until the cameras turned off and schedules ended. Until the dorm lights dimmed and exhaustion settled back into their bodies like something permanent waiting patiently for morning to come again.
Yeji got worse quietly. Not visibly enough for headlines. Not dramatically enough for intervention. Just small things. Skipping meals more often. Falling asleep sitting upright. Longer silences. Forgetting conversations midway through them. One night Lia found her asleep at the dining table with schedule papers still clutched loosely in her hand. Another time Yuna realized Yeji had been wearing the same ring on the wrong finger for nearly three days without noticing. Ryujin started looking at her with poorly hidden concern now. Even Chaeryeong noticed. But inside ITZY, concern had long since evolved into adaptation. Everyone saw the damage and nobody knew what to do with it anymore.
With the volatility that had long been noticed but never truly addressed beginning to surface more openly between the five of them, someone else eventually started noticing too. Not management. Not staff members. Someone who understood the difference between temporary exhaustion and the kind that settled into people slowly enough for them to stop recognizing it themselves.
(Jihyo's POV):
I had seen this before, not in the exact same shape. But close enough, it was the close enough to the time where my own group imploded within itself to threaten the very existence of TWICE, my TWICE. The first time I truly noticed it was during a music show waiting room sometime during GOLD promotions. ITZY was laughing about something Yuna said when she passed by the open door with one of the managers beside her.
At first glance, everything looked normal. That was the problem. Years in the industry had taught me how to recognize when idols became too good at pretending. Yeji smiled through conversations half a second too late now. Ryujin kept scanning the room whenever silence settled for too long. Chaeryeong looked like she apologized with her eyes before words even reached her mouth. Lia had the careful attentiveness of someone trying to make up for an absence nobody blamed her for. And Yuna— Yuna looked exhausted in the way only people trying the hardest to appear energetic usually did.
I didn’t say anything that day, I couldn’t but after that, I started paying attention. Small things became difficult to ignore once she noticed them.
Yeji falling asleep during downtime between recordings.
Ryujin lingering nearby afterward instead of waking her immediately.
Chaeryeong quietly checking everyone else’s mood before speaking during group interviews.
The way the members looked relieved whenever schedules ended early, not because they were lazy, but because they genuinely seemed unable to process another hour being added onto the day.
It reminded me too much of something I recognized. The dangerous stage of exhaustion where functioning became so normal that nobody realized how badly things had deteriorated anymore. And once I recognized it— I couldn’t stop seeing it. At first, I was going to tackle it alone. But there was only little I could do by myself. But I remembered I had someone with me. Perhaps I could talk to John with my concerns, technically this is part of the job description of our managerial boyfriend.
(John's POV):
It was the night before MISAMO left for Japan again. HAUTE COUTURE promotions overseas always shifted the atmosphere slightly within the dorms. Different schedules. Different pacing. Different forms of chaos. For once, it also meant the rest of us would finally have room to breathe again after months of nonstop movement. At least, that had been my plan before Sana decided otherwise.
“You’re thinking too much again” her voice came muffled against my neck while she remained comfortably tangled against me beneath the sheets, both of our bodies completely free from any form of clothing and she unconcerned with the fact that I was still trying to organize schedules on my phone moments earlier.
J: I’m literally doing my job.
SN: You stopped looking at your phone ten minutes ago.
J: …That’s not the point.
SN: It kind of is.
I felt her smile against my skin before she shifted closer purely to annoy me further. Typical. The room itself was dim outside the soft lamp near the bedside table. Comfortable silence settled naturally between us in the way it only could after years of familiarity. Sana always had a strange ability to pull people out of their own heads whether they wanted her to or not. Usually against their will.
J: You’re going to Japan tomorrow
SN: Mhm.
J: And instead of sleeping—
SN: I wanted attention.
J: That sounds like a “you” problem.
SN: It became your problem when you started dating me.
J: Fair point.
“Now be a good boy for me” Sana’s mood changed like clockwork, it was as simple as flipping a switch. She gave me a quick peck on the lips before going down to my neck, then giving my chest a few bite marks “Something to remember me by when I’m in Japan” her giggled showed more of a territorial side than clingy. I decided to meet her halfway— directly flipping her over to have me be the one on top this time. “Let’s make every second count then” I whispered in her ear as the tip of my already erect cock was rubbing the around the folds of her already wet entrance, to which Sana stared at me showing that she didn’t need to say anything to let me know what she wanted.
She cooed in pleasure the moment she felt me enter her. I took my time to make sure she felt me inch by inch. Though I didn’t give her time to settle into anything. The moment I was full length inside her I pulled out leaving only the tip left inside, and before Sana could say anything in protest— I slammed my entire length going back inside in an instant. This gave Sana a jolt of extreme pleasure enough that for a very split moment it cause her to black out before instantly regaining consciousness. She was very used to me making love to her gently and her very sexual nature wasn’t opposed to it, but she loved it more when I was extra rough with her and since she was going to leave for a while I wanted to make sure to give a little extra treatment the way she likes it.
The change of pace was enough to make Sana reach her the near of her climax faster than normal, and I was still sensitive from earlier which worked in my favor— almost. The feeling of Sana’s walls hugging around my shaft as the tip kissed the entranced to her cervix was stimulation to much for me, it led me to finish first the feeling of pleasure overwhelming me to a point where I stopped moving as globs of my cum flooded Sana’s insides. The feeling of her insides being filled to the brim with my seed was enough to push her to orgasm as well, her insides contracted simultaneously around my already sensitive cock prolonging the rush of pleasure both of us felt.
I slowly pulled out of her and the cum started to escape out of her pussy “Oh wow, if we keep this up I might actually get knocked up, oppa” she looked at me with awe while rubbing her abs. “Dear God, Sana. It’s not like I’m against it, but we all know what’s going to happen to me if that does.” I laughed while falling on the bed with her right next to me “Either PD-nim is going to personally murder you, the rest of the members, or the wave of angry fans” Sana giggled as she slowly led her mouth to my already soft member as she tried to spring it back to life.
Then there was a knock on the door, and before I could tell whoever was on the other side to wait, they already opened the it "Aishh— I feel like we already did this before" as Jihyo looked at the sight of me in the bed. Sana was covered underneath the sheets not stopping despite being caught, her head kept bobbing without the slightest care of being caught. She was about to leave for a while— being seen by someone from the other eight whom she shared me was not Sana's concern.
"I'm borrowing John for a bit after you, there's something I need to talk to him about" Jihyo said in a serious tone as she told Sana who still didn't stop, her only confirmation was her hand leaving the sheets forming the okay hand sign.
Jihyo only stared at the two of us for a moment longer before rubbing tiredly at her forehead. “You know, normal couples would at least pretend to be embarrassed.” Sana finally resurfaced just enough to grin lazily at her. “That sounds judgmental.”
JH: That’s because it is.
SN: It’s not my fault he’s cute.
JH: You literally say that about all nine of us.
SN: And I mean it every single time.
Jihyo sighed deeply, though the corner of her mouth still twitched upward slightly despite herself. The atmosphere inside the room remained warm in the familiar way it always became whenever the members naturally drifted around each other. Comfortable. Chaotic. Intimate without effort. It reminded me how different things felt now compared to years ago. Which was why the expression lingering behind Jihyo’s eyes stood out almost immediately. Sana noticed it too. Her teasing softened first. “…Something happened?” Jihyo hesitated. And that alone was enough to tell me this wasn’t casual concern. The room grew quieter afterward.
Sana slowly sat up properly beneath the sheets this time, finally giving Jihyo her full attention while I reached over to mute the television still playing softly in the background. For a few seconds, only silence remained. Then Jihyo finally spoke. “It’s ITZY.” That got my attention immediately. Not because the topic itself was surprising. Because of the way she said it. Carefully. Like she had already spent weeks trying to convince herself she was overthinking it before finally deciding she wasn’t. Jihyo moved further into the room before sitting near the edge of the bed, arms folding loosely across herself. “I think something’s wrong with them.” Sana frowned slightly. “Wrong how?” Jihyo exhaled quietly. “I don’t know if I can explain it properly. They’re functioning too well.” Neither of us interrupted her. Because we understood exactly what she meant. “They remind me too much of us back then,” she admitted softly. “Not publicly. Privately.”
The warmth inside the room dimmed slightly after that. I leaned back against the headboard slowly while listening as Jihyo explained everything she had been noticing for months now. Yeji pushing herself too hard. Ryujin watching everyone constantly. Chaeryeong growing smaller emotionally. Yuna overcompensating. Lia carrying guilt nobody blamed her for. And beneath all of it— exhaustion that had stopped looking temporary a long time ago. By the time Jihyo finished talking, Sana’s expression had completely lost its earlier playfulness.
“…That bad?” she asked quietly. Jihyo nodded once. I stayed silent longer than either of them liked. Because the truth was— I had noticed pieces of it too. Not enough to fully understand the situation from a distance, but enough to recognize the pattern forming underneath everything Jihyo described. And patterns like that rarely resolved cleanly on their own. “That kind of exhaustion changes people,” I said eventually. Jihyo looked at me carefully. “I know.” I added “And if nobody steps in early enough, they normalize it” which Jihyo shared my concern “That’s what I’m scared of.” The room fell quiet again.
Sana shifted closer beside me instinctively, her hand resting lightly against my arm while she listened. I already knew where the conversation was heading before Jihyo asked the question. “Can we help them?” I exhaled slowly through my nose. Not because I didn’t want to. Because I understood exactly how complicated the answer was. Emotional dependency inside this industry was dangerous. Lines blurred too easily when people spent too long isolated from normality. Support became attachment before anyone realized it was happening. And once that happened— things stopped being simple. Jihyo knew that too. Which was why she looked nervous asking me in the first place. For a long while, none of us spoke.
Then eventually, I ran a hand down my face before reaching toward the bedside table for my phone. “I know the right guy,” I muttered quietly. Jihyo’s posture straightened slightly. “He’s good at reading people. Better than anyone I know, honestly.” I glanced down at the dark screen in my hand for a moment before continuing. “But whether he agrees to this or not is completely up to him.” Sana tilted her head slightly. “That friend of yours?” I only nodded while reaching for my phone. “The psychology major who psychoanalyzed you in ten minutes?” Sana tilted her head in curiosity, “He was right about me, unfortunately.” That almost earned a small laugh from Jihyo. Almost.
I unlocked my phone slowly. “Even if he says yes,” I said carefully, “this doesn’t magically fix anything. And if this goes wrong—”
“I know,” Jihyo interrupted softly. No optimism. No naïve expectations.
That made this harder somehow. I stared at the contact for another second before finally pressing call. The line rang once. Twice. Then:
“John?” a calm voice answered from the other side. I closed my eyes briefly “…Hey, Ben.”
(Ben's POV):
I frowned slightly at my phone before leaning back deeper into the couch. “You usually only call this late when somebody’s either dying or pregnant” A muffled snort immediately echoed somewhere on his side of the call. Female. Sounded like Sana— Interesting. “Good evening to you too, jackass” John muttered dryly. “You didn’t deny either possibility” I commented only for John to annoyingly reply with “Because neither possibility should’ve been your first assumption.”
B: That sounds like denial.
J: You sound unemployed.
B: I technically am unemployed.
J: You own SEVEN businesses.
B: Own. Having passive income is not employment— I refuse to disrespect actual workers like that.
That earned another laugh somewhere near him, that voice definitely belongs to Sana. I rubbed tiredly at my face while sitting up properly this time, abandoning my PC on the table. The clock on the wall already pushed dangerously close to midnight which usually meant one of two things whenever John called. Either something genuinely serious happened, or one of the girls did something catastrophically stupid. Both were equally possible.
B: So, who’s dying?
J: No one.
B: Did you get one the members pregnant?
J: What the hell? Again. No.
B: Financial crime? Extortion?
J: Can you be serious for five minutes?
I had my fun with John, I dropped my playful tone “Depends. Are you asking as my best friend or as whatever the hell your job title actually is nowadays?” Silence. That was enough for my expression to slowly flatten. Ah. So this actually WAS serious. I stood from the couch afterward and walked toward the kitchen automatically, phone tucked between my shoulder and ear while grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge. “What happened?” The joking disappeared from my voice completely. John noticed immediately too. “It’s not about TWICE.” That narrowed possibilities slightly. “But?”
A quieter exhale answered first. Then— “It’s ITZY.” I stayed silent. Not because I didn’t know who they were. Because I knew exactly enough about them for those two words to already sound exhausting. A young group. Heavy schedules. Leadership pressure. Public resilience. And JYPE announced recently that one of their members went on hiatus. That was an emotionally dangerous combination. I twisted the bottle cap open slowly. “What about them?” Another pause. Careful this time. John choosing words. That interested me more than the situation itself initially. Because John wasn’t someone easily intimidated by emotional complexity anymore. Which meant whatever this was— he considered it delicate.
“I think they’ve been surviving too long without realizing how bad things got.” And there it was. Not scandal. Not behavioral collapse. It was a burnout, the ugly kind too. I leaned silently against the kitchen counter afterward while processing that answer. Then eventually “…And you’re calling me because?” Another silence. “Jihyo noticed first.” Very interesting. Because if Jihyo was concerned enough to involve John— then this wasn’t ordinary exhaustion anymore. “When are you free?” John finally asked. I glanced toward the clock hanging above the kitchen entrance. 12:47 AM.
B: You do realize normal people discuss emotional crises before midnight, right?
J: You were awake anyway.
B: That’s not the point.
J: You answered on the second ring.
B: You know that if you called me even if I was in the middle of a car race I would still pick up. But… that’s also not the point.
A quieter laugh echoed somewhere near him again. “Fine. When do you want to meet?” John asked for tomorrow afternoon. “That sounds less like a request and more like kidnapping.” I told him “You’ll survive.” John ignored that completely. Typical. “The NDA’s already prepared.” That earned a short laugh out of me immediately. “Jesus Christ. You people are serious.” John still was serious, “We have to be.” There it was again. That carefulness. I rolled the cold water bottle lightly against my forehead while thinking. Young group. Hiatus instability. Solo pressure. Emotional suppression. Yeah. I could already see where this probably went wrong psychologically. “Alright, send me the location.” I muttered eventually. “Get some sleep first” I frowned slightly. “You can’t even see me.” John’s voice softened slightly afterward though “But I know you,” the atmosphere settled again naturally. “Tomorrow. Two in the afternoon.” The line disconnected not long after that.
I stayed leaning silently against the kitchen counter for a while afterward, phone still loosely in my hand while the apartment settled back into silence around me. Then eventually I glanced toward the laptop abandoned on the couch. Defeat screen still open. Unbelievable. I made a mental note to never play ranked past midnight again.
The café John picked the following afternoon looked exactly like the kind of place wealthy people pretended wasn’t expensive. Minimalist interior. Quiet lighting. Private enough to discourage attention without looking intentionally exclusive. The type of place celebrities used when they wanted to convince themselves they were still having normal conversations. John and Jihyo were already seated when I arrived. And immediately— John frowned.
J: You look like shit.
B: Good afternoon to you too.
J: No, seriously. You look exhausted.
I slid into the chair across from them before pulling my cap off loosely. “I stayed up too late.” John was looking at me again, that frown in face growing “Doing?” I stared at him flatly “…Making terrible life choices.” he narrowed his eyes at me “That narrows it down to everything.” I ignored him completely and reached for the glass of water already sitting nearby instead. “Some psychopath kept queueing into my ranked matches all night.” John looked mildly interested “And I lost. Repeatedly.” He finally broke into a smile “Huh, sounds like a skill issue.” That pinched a nerve in my pride.
Jihyo quietly laughed into her drink while I rubbed tiredly at my forehead. “The worst part is the IGN sounded pretentious too.” John raised an eyebrow. “What was it?” I tried recalling it properly. “Something elegant sounding.” I frowned slightly. “PenguinNoona? SilverPenguin? Something rich-person coded.” The silence afterward lasted exactly one second too long. Then suddenly John started laughing. Not normal laughing either. The genuinely disrespectful kind. Jihyo blinked between both of us immediately. “What?” I narrowed my eyes “…Why are you laughing?” John leaned back in his chair, still grinning. “Because that was Mina.” I blinked once “No it wasn’t.” Then again until John affirmed what I denied “It absolutely was.” Jihyo’s expression immediately shifted from confusion to visible amusement. “Wait,” she said while trying not to laugh herself now, “you spent all night getting destroyed by Mina?”
“She was reading my rotations before I even committed to them”. John muttered “That’s somehow worse since you challenged her first apparently.” I had no other play except to keep on making more excuses “I DIDN’T KNOW IT WAS HER.” That only made John laugh harder, that jackass. I rubbed tiredly at my face while Jihyo laughed softly into her drink now too “…Tell her I want a rematch.” He held up his phone “You already said that six times last night apparently”. I stared at him blankly, that definitely was my IGN, and she even sent him screenshots? Unbelievable.
The atmosphere loosened naturally after that more familiar. Which honestly made what came next feel slightly stranger by comparison once the conversation gradually settled again. Jihyo’s eyes drifted briefly toward my wrist while I reached for the water again. Small movement that was easy to miss. But observant people always noticed expensive things eventually. Especially people surrounded by luxury branding professionally. The glance lingered only half a second longer before she looked away thoughtfully. John noticed too. “You’re still wearing that?” he asked casually. I glanced down at the watch. “It tells time”. He was visibly stressed “That’s not what I asked”. I raised my arms “Hey, it was free.” Jihyo looked up in the middle of sipping her drink “…Free?” I pointed to my watch “It was a gift.” John looked genuinely offended now. “You cannot call a limited allocation Patek Philippe ‘free.’ That’s not how reality works.”
“I didn’t pay for it” which was the basis of something being considered a gift. “That’s somehow worse.” Jihyo stared at the watch once more quietly before finally looking toward John “You did mention he was rich but… How rich is he exactly?” I immediately pointed at him. “Don’t answer that”. John ignored me completely. “Last I checked was a few years ago?” he muttered casually, “and by that time he was already wealthier than any of us.” then after a beat— “Barring Mina. That woman’s terrifyingly wealthy that it’s now even funny at this point.” Jihyo admitted immediately, “That’s fair.” I sighed deeply into my water. John continued anyway because apparently betrayal built character “After I lost the NewJeans job, he actually offered me one of his businesses so I could get back on my feet.” Jihyo blinked. “…One of?” John was waving his hand as he continued “I said no.” I muttered back “Because you’re dramatic”. He look back at me as if I was a crazy person “Because you were talking about handing me an entire company for FREE. Besides, I don’t like feeling like a charity case.” I shrugged lightly. “And I respected that.”
The conversation settled quietly for a moment afterward. Not awkward. Just thoughtful. Jihyo’s expression changed slightly then. Not impressed. Understanding. The puzzle pieces clicking together for her. To why I didn’t seem particularly concerned about industry politics. Why I moved carefully around obligation. Why agreeing to this meeting despite not needing anything professionally mattered more than it normally would. She’s an interesting woman. Finally, John leaned back slightly before gesturing toward the folder sitting on the table.
“So,” he said, “we should probably explain why we’re actually here before Ben decides this entire conversation was a mistake.” I glanced toward the folder sitting on the table. It was clean, organized and it had that expensive paper too “Please tell me that’s not the—” both of them answered at the same time “— it’s the NDA”. I leaned back slowly afterward. “…You know, most normal people buy someone dinner before legally binding them into psychological warfare.”
“That’s HR’s job,” John muttered “I hate that you said that with confidence.” Jihyo laughed softly under her breath while sliding the folder closer toward me. The atmosphere loosened slightly again after that. Not fully relaxed, but enough. That was good. People usually spoke more honestly once rooms stopped feeling interrogative. I opened the folder afterward, flipping through the pages casually while half-listening to the quiet jazz drifting somewhere deeper inside the café. Standard confidentiality clauses first. Entertainment privacy. Internal operational discretion. Then— there it was “This is broader than entertainment confidentiality.” Neither answered immediately. Which honestly answered enough already. I glanced up from the papers quietly. Not scandal. Not criminality. Emotional complexity. “You two are acting like you’re hiring me to negotiate a hostage situation.”
“Some days that industry feels close enough,” Jihyo muttered dryly. Fair. I skimmed through the rest carefully. Nothing unreasonable. Strict. But understandable. Honestly, if anything, the wording felt protective more than threatening. That interested me. I signed the final page anyway. Not impulsively. Consciously. That mattered. Once the folder slid back across the table toward them, the atmosphere shifted almost immediately afterward. Less guarded now. “So,” I finally said while folding my arms loosely, “what exactly am I walking into?” Jihyo looked toward John briefly before answering. “Burnout.”
Simple answer. Honest and incomplete, I stayed quiet. People usually filled silence when they wanted understanding badly enough. Sure enough, John continued. “Yeji adapted by over-functioning after Lia’s hiatus,” he said calmly. “The others adapted around her. And after enough time passed, everyone stopped recognizing how unhealthy it became.” Yeah. I’d seen versions of that before. Not identical. But familiar enough to leave a bad taste in my mouth anyway. “She’s preparing for a solo debut now,” Jihyo added quietly. “Which means the pressure’s only getting worse.” I nodded once slowly. That tracked psychologically. Group exhaustion could still distribute emotional burden. Solo work couldn’t. Especially not for leaders— especially not for someone already carrying too much by default.
I leaned back slightly deeper into the chair afterward while processing everything carefully. Then finally— “And the company agreed to let an outsider manage this?” That earned the faintest humorless smile from John “Jihyo asked.” So there it is, that explained the authority issue immediately. Not unlimited power. But enough institutional trust to override resistance. Dangerous amount of responsibility to hand somebody. Especially someone like me. “I’m assuming there’s a reason you’re not just assigning another internal manager.” Jihyo answered immediately “There is. He needs to understand emotional pressure without treating them like liabilities,” she continued quietly. “And he needs to care more about Yeji’s wellbeing than maintaining schedules perfectly.” That narrowed things down significantly. Most companies protect the schedule and very few said “protect the person”. I was interested in the scenario “And you think I fit that?” as I took a sip of my coffee. “I think John trusts you enough to call you.” That answer landed heavier than she probably intended.
I glanced briefly toward John afterward. He looked annoyingly calm about the entire thing.
Typical. “You’re making this sound more serious every five minutes,” I muttered. “That’s because it is serious,” John answered this time. No humor, just honesty. The atmosphere quieted slightly again afterward. Outside the café windows, the city kept moving normally, meanwhile inside this conversation, two people were essentially telling me an idol group had been quietly falling apart in slow motion long enough for veterans to finally notice. Emotionally dangerous. I rested my fingers lightly against the untouched coffee cup in front of me.
“What does Yeji know?” I asked them bluntly. “Not much yet,” Jihyo admitted. “Only that we’re trying to arrange additional support for the solo.” I was intrigued with the lack of protest “She agreed to that?” John answered quietly “Well she didn’t really argue,” that bothered me immediately. Not because agreement was bad. Because exhausted people stopped resisting help once they got too tired to fight properly. And something about the way both of them described her made me increasingly certain Yeji had already crossed into that territory a while ago. Interesting and concerning, I exhaled quietly afterward before finally asking the question both of them were obviously waiting for. “And what exactly do you want from me?” Another brief silence settled over the table. Then Jihyo answered carefully. “Help her breathe again.”
…Ahhh. That was worse somehow. The words settled strangely in my chest afterward. There was no desperation in Jihyo’s voice. No exaggerated pleading or emotional manipulation, just exhaustion. The kind that only came from watching people deteriorate slowly enough for everyone around them to normalize it. I leaned back deeper into the chair afterward while thinking quietly. Outside the café windows, the world kept on moving— but inside this table, meanwhile, two people were essentially asking me to emotionally stabilize a group leader before her first solo debut pushed her into complete collapse.
Dangerous responsibility. Especially considering the amount of authority they were apparently prepared to hand me. “And the company’s genuinely allowing this?” I asked eventually. Jihyo nodded once. “Officially, you’re being brought in as temporary personal management support for Yeji’s solo activities.” I repeated that word she said that piqued my interest, “Temporary” I repeated “For now.” Interesting wording. “And unofficially?” I asked calmly. John immediately rubbed tiredly at his forehead beside her. “There it is,” he muttered. “There WHAT is?” that man really knew how to press my buttons “The part where your psychology degree becomes annoying.”
“That sounds like projection” I said
“It is projection” he admitted. Fair enough.
I rested my elbow lightly against the table afterward while studying both of them carefully “You two keep talking around something.” Neither denied it. So not scandal then. Intentional secrecy. Finally, John sighed quietly beside me “There are… emotional dynamics within our situation that aren’t exactly conventional.” That was the first genuinely direct thing either of them had said all afternoon. I stayed quiet and let him continue. “Nothing illegal,” he added immediately. “That’s really comforting, best buddy. I’m listening.” John glanced briefly toward Jihyo first, an unspoken request for permission “The girls rely on me emotionally more than most people would probably consider professionally appropriate.”
That was not a full answer. But enough of one. I leaned back slightly afterward while processing the implication quietly. Not because it surprised me. Honestly? I’d already suspected something adjacent to it the moment confidentiality expanded beyond standard entertainment protection. “And you’re telling me this because?” Jihyo answered in John’s behalf “Because if you agree to this,” Jihyo answered carefully, “there’s a chance Yeji might eventually rely on you similarly. Romantically, sexually, and emotionally.” That distinction mattered. Even if all three of us understood those lines rarely stayed clean forever inside emotionally isolated environments like theirs. I glanced briefly toward John again afterward “…How bad are your boundaries exactly?” “Better than they sound.” John was no longer planning on hiding it. “That is not a reassuring answer, best buddy.” I grinned at him. “It’s the truthful one, and will you stop calling me that?”
I stayed quiet for a few more seconds afterward while turning the situation over mentally. Emotionally exhausted idols. High-pressure environment. Isolation. Dependency. Trust structures forming around the few people allowed close enough to consistently see them as human beings. Psychologically speaking, none of this was actually shocking. Dangerous?
Absolutely. Unusual? Not really. Which honestly might’ve been the worst part.
Finally, I exhaled quietly through my nose “For the record,” I muttered while reaching for my coffee again, “sleeping with Yeji is not secretly part of my career development plan.” Jihyo nearly choked on her drink immediately. Meanwhile John just closed his eyes slowly like he regretted inviting me already. “What?” I asked flatly. “You cannot say things like that with a straight face.”
“I’m clarifying expectations professionally.”
“That is NOT professional phrasing.”
“Would you prefer a PowerPoint presentation?”
Jihyo was openly laughing into her hand now while John looked spiritually exhausted beside her. Good. That probably meant the atmosphere needed it. Eventually, though, the humor settled naturally again. And once it did, I noticed something important almost immediately. Neither of them actually looked worried about me crossing lines intentionally. Interesting. That meant this conversation wasn’t about predatory concern. It was about emotional gravity. Much more complicated. I rested my gaze briefly against the city skyline outside before eventually speaking again. “I’ll do the job,” I said calmly. “And I’ll do it properly.” The atmosphere shifted subtly afterward. Not relief exactly. Then I added “But if I think this situation is genuinely becoming psychologically dangerous for her, I’m pulling her back regardless of schedules.” John nodded immediately “Fair.” That told me more about him than the entire partial confession earlier honestly did. Because people abusing emotional dependency usually became defensive once limitations entered the conversation. John didn’t. Which meant despite however messy the situation actually was— he genuinely believed he was helping them survive.
Complicated. But genuine. The conversation settled quietly after that. Schedules. Logistics. Formalities. Nothing emotionally explosive, which honestly made me trust them slightly more. No manipulation. No emotional recruitment. No savior complex. Just concern. By the time the meeting finally started winding down, the late afternoon sunlight outside had already begun fading gold against the café windows. I stood first. Jihyo followed shortly after while John stayed seated another moment finishing the last of his coffee. As I rolled the sleeve of my hoodie back down loosely, I noticed Jihyo’s eyes briefly catch against the tattoo wrapping partially beneath my wrist near the watch, a curious gaze. Most people expected wealthy men to look cleaner than me. Less ink, lack of carelessness, less visibly damaged. Interesting thing about appearances, people trusted polished images too easily. Unfortunately for everyone involved, I stopped looking polished years ago.
The watch probably didn’t help either. And neither did the ring resting against my finger. Minimalist. Dark emerald stone. Understated enough that most people missed it completely. But people surrounded by luxury long enough eventually learned how to identify quiet money instinctively. I noticed the exact second Jihyo recognized it too. A tiny pause “…Wait,” she said slowly. Her attention lowered briefly toward the ring again “That’s Graff.” I glanced down absentmindedly “Unfortunately so”. John immediately sighed beside her “You wore THAT here? ARE YOU INSANE?!” I looked at the ring “It’s jewelry, not a nuclear weapon.”
“That ring literally requires financial screening before purchase, it’s probably worth more than this entire café” Jihyo blinked once. “…Wait seriously?” John pointed it out “Made-to-order line,” John’s voice tired “You can’t even request one unless they already know you can easily afford it.”
“That sounds discriminatory,” I answered calmly.
“That’s because rich people are terrifying, and specifically you are insane.” That was a fair observation. Jihyo stared at the ring another second longer before finally looking back toward me again. Not impressed or intimidated, the puzzle pieces clicking together.
Why industry politics didn’t particularly impress me. Why leverage didn’t seem to matter much to me. Why agreeing to something this emotionally complicated despite not needing anything professionally mattered more than it normally would. Eventually John stood too before glancing toward me once more. “So?” I slid both hands casually into my pockets afterward.
Jihyo laughed softly under her breath while shaking her head “Thank you, Ben.” That one sounded genuine enough to make refusing later significantly more difficult. Park Jihyo is a dangerous woman too, apparently.
The drive back toward the company building was quieter than expected. The late afternoon traffic crawled slowly through Seoul while soft music played somewhere low through the speakers of the car. Beside him, Jihyo rested her chin lightly against her hand while staring out the window. “You know,” he muttered eventually while stopping at another red light, “you could’ve warned me before telling Ben you thought I was sleeping with somebody.” Jihyo laughed softly beside him. “I didn’t say that.”
“You absolutely implied it.”
“I implied emotional dependency.”
“That sounds worse somehow.” Jihyo’s amusement faded slightly afterward though, something quieter settling into her expression instead. “…Do you think he’ll actually help?” John’s fingers tapped lightly once against the steering wheel before answering. “Yes.” No hesitation. “You trust him that much?”
“I trust him to leave if he thinks the situation’s unhealthy.” John glanced briefly toward her afterward. “Which is exactly why I trust him around them.” That answer quieted the car again. Outside the windows, the city kept moving normally. Inside it, meanwhile, the atmosphere shifted back toward concern naturally once Ben’s presence disappeared from the conversation. Eventually Jihyo exhaled softly. “We should talk to Yeji tomorrow.” John nodded once immediately “She’ll try to downplay it.” Jihyo agreed “I know. She’ll also think this is her fault somehow.” That earned the faintest tired smile out of him. Leader instincts, unfortunately predictable.
It happened on Dahyun’s day— which unfortunately meant Jihyo technically had to negotiate for John first. Dahyun had been comfortably laying across the dorm couch earlier that evening with John half-trapped beneath her while some movie played in the background neither of them were actually paying attention to. The moment Jihyo explained she needed to borrow him tomorrow for something related to ITZY, “So let me get this straight, you’re taking my boyfriend during my rotation” Dahyun immediately narrowed her eyes in suspicion “… to have him meet with some other woman?” Dahyun said feigning a reaction as if what Jihyo was asking was absolutely monstrous. “It’s work related. And this is Yeji we’re talking about— not some random woman” she pointed out. “That somehow sounds more criminal.” Dahyun told her while tightening her grip on John’s chest, John already looked exhausted before the conversation even properly started “Dahyun.” he was also trying to convince her by patting her head. “No, no.” Dahyun waved him off dramatically before looking back toward Jihyo instead. “You may borrow him temporarily under one condition.” Jihyo already knew that tone, more importantly— Dahyun knew the cards were in her favor “…What condition?” Jihyo asked carefully. Dangerous, more importantly— Dahyun knew the cards were in her favor “…What condition?” Jihyo asked carefully. Dahyun hummed thoughtfully while still laying comfortably across John like she physically intended to prevent him from leaving the couch—then slowly “The next time he’s on my rotation, nobody interrupts us.” John muttered tiredly beneath her “That’s already the rule.” Dahyun tightened her arms around him slightly afterward “No. I mean NOBODY interrupts us.” A dangerous emphasis. Jihyo immediately narrowed her eyes in suspicion “…What exactly are you planning?” Dahyun gasped dramatically “You think so lowly of me.”
“It means,” Dahyun continued proudly, “I want twenty-four uninterrupted hours where nobody steals him because they suddenly ‘miss him emotionally’ or because Sana decides she wants attention or because Jeongyeon unnie gets jealous halfway through the day.” From somewhere deeper inside the dorm, Jeongyeon yelled immediately “I HEARD THAT.” Dahyun yelled back “GOOD.” John looked exhausted instantly “…Why are you all like this?” Jeongyeon answered from the other room “Because you enabled it!” That was valid, I spoil all of them in their own way. Jihyo was already laughing softly into her hand now while Dahyun continued like a lawyer finalizing contract terms “I want breakfast together” she raised one finger, “Lunch together,” another finger “Dinner together,” another “And if anyone tries emotionally manipulating their way into my day, I reserve the right to become annoying about it for an entire next month.”
“That sounds threatening,” John muttered.
“It IS threatening.” Jihyo shook her head while still laughing quietly “Fair enough. You treat your relationship like custody negotiations.” Dahyun looked back at John, “That’s because sharing requires organization.” Dahyun looked genuinely proud afterward though. Then finally she loosened her grip around John slightly before giving him a kiss and pointing toward Jihyo. “Approved. But you owe me too” Dahyun was looking at John’s concerned face “…What kind of owe?” Dahyun smiled immediately. “I want you to be rough, make me scream so hard no one gets to sleep that night” John closed his eyes slowly “That’s somehow worse”. And just like that, the negotiation ended.
The following afternoon, Jihyo and John found Yeji between rehearsal breaks. The practice room was quieter than usual, though the silence felt more like exhaustion than peace. Backup dancers rested near the mirrored walls while staff members quietly reorganized equipment nearby. Yeji herself sat off toward the corner with a tablet resting against her lap, eyes fixed on schedules even during downtime. Jihyo noticed immediately that Yeji still hadn’t really learned how to stop working even while technically resting.
Yeji looked up once they approached before immediately straightening slightly. “Oh— hello Jihyo unnie, and John Manager-nim.” There it was again. Automatic composure. “You busy?” Jihyo asked gently. Yeji glanced briefly toward the tablet before shaking her head. “Not really.” John and Jihyo exchanged the briefest glance. That was a lie, a small one though “Can we steal you to talk for a bit?” Jihyo asked. Yeji hesitated only briefly before nodding.
The conversation itself happened inside one of the smaller meeting rooms deeper inside the building. Quiet. Private. Neutral enough not to immediately feel intimidating. Yeji sat across from them while loosely holding onto an unopened bottled drink the entire time. Not nervous exactly, but she was guarded. Jihyo spoke first “We’re arranging additional personal management support for your solo preparations.” Yeji blinked once “…Additional management?” John clarified calmly “Temporary though. Mostly for workload management, schedule restructuring, and helping you navigate solo activities.” Yeji nodded slowly at first, though the hesitation still lingered afterward.
“Is it… because I’m struggling?” Straight to the point “No,” Jihyo answered gently. “Because solo promotions are different from group activities.” John nodded once beside her. “In a group, pressure gets distributed naturally. Solo schedules don’t work like that.” Yeji lowered her eyes briefly toward the bottle in her hands afterward. “I can handle it.” There it is again.
Not “I’m okay.”
Just “I can endure it.”
Jihyo leaned slightly forward afterward. “We know you can,” she said softly. “And that’s not the issue.” Silence settled briefly across the room. Yeji didn’t argue again after that. Eventually she glanced back toward John instead “…Who is it?”
“A friend of mine, his name is Sung Benjamin” that immediately earned the faintest uncertainty across her expression. Reasonable reaction, John noticed it too “He’s qualified,” he added calmly. Yeji looked mildly embarrassed immediately afterward “I didn’t say he wasn’t.”
“You were thinking it.”
“…Maybe a little.”
That was a good reaction, a tiny bit of personality surfacing beneath the exhaustion. A human response. Not leader one. Jihyo smiled faintly while John continued “A few years ago there was an idol whose career was basically collapsing after a severe mental breakdown.” He paused briefly afterward. “Ben was one of the people responsible for helping them recover.” Yeji’s expression shifted slightly. Everyone in the industry knew stories like that. Some idols disappeared quietly and never fully came back afterward.
“He never took public credit for it,” Jihyo added softly. “Most people don’t even know he was involved.” That seemed to catch Yeji’s attention more than the actual achievement itself. “He’s not there to control you,” Jihyo continued carefully. “His job is to prioritize your well-being and make sure this doesn’t destroy you.” The room quieted briefly again afterward “…Okay.” No enthusiasm, not resistant either. Just tired honesty. Honestly, that probably worried Jihyo more than if Yeji had argued.
The company building felt quieter than expected when I arrived the next afternoon. A disciplined environment. People moved quickly, conversations stayed low, schedules existed five minutes ahead of wherever everybody currently stood. Entertainment companies always felt like that to me— entire buildings functioning on controlled exhaustion while pretending it was passion instead. One of the staff members assigned to guide me through the building glanced toward me every few seconds while walking. I don’t think it was recognition. Not familiarity either. My guess is probably trying to figure out whether I was important, connected, or somebody dangerous to accidentally disrespect. The tattoos usually complicated that process for people. Good— I preferred it that way.
“You’ll be meeting with Yeji-ssi inside,” the staff member explained carefully once we reached one of the upper floors. “The rehearsal break should still have around twenty minutes left.” Twenty minutes. Not enough rest for a day of rehearsals. The practice room doors were partially open when we arrived. Music echoed faintly inside while dancers stretched near the mirrored walls and staff members reorganized equipment nearby. And immediately— there she is.
Yeji sat near the corner of the room with a tablet balanced against one knee while speaking quietly with one of the choreographers. Even from a distance, I noticed the exhaustion almost instantly. Not because she looked weak. Because she looked functional. That distinction mattered. People expected burnout to look dramatic. It rarely did. Most of the time it just looked like someone becoming increasingly efficient at surviving themselves. It was interesting… and concerning too.
The staff member quietly excused himself afterward, leaving me standing near the entrance while Yeji finally noticed the movement near the doorway. Her eyes landed on me briefly. Then narrowed slightly in recognition. Not recognition of me specifically it was a recognition of “Oh. That’s probably him.” That was professional instinct.
I raised one hand casually in greeting “Hi.” The response came a second later than normal. Not rude. Tired “…Hi.” her voice calmer than I expected. Yeji stood shortly afterward while the choreographer beside her quietly excused himself, leaving the two of us awkwardly existing near the edge of the practice room for a few seconds.
“You’re Benjamin-ssi?”
“There’s a horrifying possibility John forgot to warn you about me, but yes.” That earned the faintest blink out of her “Just call me Ben, formalities aren’t really my thing. At least she still reacted to humor.
“I’m Yeji.”
“I don’t think there’s anyone in this building that doesn’t know you, Yeji. But it’s a pleasure to official meet you.” That finally earned the smallest hint of amusement at the corner of her mouth before it disappeared almost immediately afterward. There were still tiny flashes of personality beneath exhaustion— those mattered more than people realized.
I glanced briefly around the practice room afterward. Empty water bottles. Schedules. Music paused mid-track. Dancers resting against mirrored walls. Nobody in this room looked fully rested. But Yeji somehow still looked the most tired. “You just finished rehearsal?” I asked casually “We’re still in the middle of it.” Well… even worse than what I had in mind. I nodded slowly afterward while mentally recalculating the schedule standards they were probably operating under. Unpleasant numbers already forming. Yeji stayed quiet for a moment before eventually speaking again. “John said you’d be helping with the solo.”
“Allegedly.” That earned another small reaction from her.
“You don’t sound very confident.”
“I’m confident,” I answered calmly. “I just think the word ‘helping’ creates unrealistic expectations.” That actually made her pause. Not offended but thinking. It was good sign. I leaned lightly against the wall afterward while studying her expression carefully. Guarded. Polite. Holding herself together very intentionally. And underneath all of that— tired enough that even standing still looked like effort. Jihyo wasn’t overreacting. Not even slightly.
Eventually Yeji glanced toward the practice room floor again before speaking more quietly. “Did… they tell you about me?” Interesting wording. Not “the situation”, but “Me”.
I answered carefully “They told me enough.” Yeji nodded once slowly afterward. Then after a brief pause “…And you still agreed?” There it is. That one mattered. Not professionally, but emotionally. She is an interesting girl. I stayed quiet for a second before eventually answering honestly. “Curiosity mostly.” That seemed to surprise her slightly “Curiosity?”
“I wanted to see if John was exaggerating.”
“…Was he?”
I glanced around the practice room once more. The schedules. The atmosphere. Her exhaustion. Then eventually back toward her again “No,” I answered calmly. “If anything, he undersold it.” The room quieted briefly after that. Not awkward. Just honest. And for the first time since I arrived, Yeji stopped looking like she was trying to perform normalcy perfectly.
The first thing I learned about idol rehearsal schedules was that everybody lied about breaks. A “ten minute break” somehow became reviewing choreography, checking recordings, answering staff questions, adjusting wardrobe fittings, discussing camera positioning, or practicing transitions. Which meant nobody was actually resting. An intriguing and horrible system. I stayed mostly quiet during the first few days. I observed, listened, and watched patterns. That part mattered more than people realized because burnout didn’t usually expose itself through dramatic collapse first. It exposed itself through normalization— and unfortunately, Yeji had normalized an alarming amount already.
“You skipped lunch” the words left my mouth casually while she remained crouched near the practice room monitor reviewing another playback recording. Without even looking up “I’ll eat later.” It wasn’t denial but more of delaying which was functionally worse. I leaned lightly against the mirrored wall afterward while glancing toward the untouched food container sitting beside her “Define later” I asked invasively. “After rehearsal.”
“You’ve said that twice already” that finally earned a small pause out of her before she looked up toward me properly. She knew that she caught “I’m busy” I still pointed to the food container with her name “Unfortunately true”. Yeji looked back down toward the monitor afterward like that settled the conversation. “You’re running on caffeine and muscle memory right now”. That earned the faintest crease between her brows immediately “…I’m fine.” I stayed quiet for a second afterward before speaking again. “You know people usually become defensive when they already know something’s unhealthy, right?” That finally made her fully look up at me “I’m not being defensive” with a tone that was ironically more defensive than angry. “Uh huh” I let her hear that while looking unconvinced “…I’m not” she tries to assure me. “Still counts if you say it twice”.
That clearly irritated her slightly. Good. Not because upsetting her mattered. But because frustration meant she was reacting honestly instead of professionally. Much more useful. Yeji finally set the tablet down beside her afterward. “You’ve been here three days.” I pointed back at her “Correct”. And with furrowed brows “And somehow you already think you understand how this works?” There it was— a comment not out of ego, but a sense of responsibility and it was an important difference. I straightened slightly from the wall afterward. “No,” I answered calmly. “I think you’ve been functioning like this long enough that everybody around you stopped questioning it.” The room quieted immediately after that. Not dramatic silence. Just uncomfortable honesty. Yeji folded her arms loosely afterward. “This is normal during comeback preparation.” I pointed out that “Normal and healthy aren’t interchangeable concepts.”
“That’s easy for you to say.” There was no hostility in her voice, just exhaustion. And underneath it— something dangerously close to guilt. I studied her quietly for another second before eventually asking “When’s the last time you slept properly?” Yeji answered too quickly “I sleep”. Not what I asked “There’s a difference between unconsciousness and rest”. That visibly frustrated her now. A tiny reaction, but a real one nonetheless. That was good. “People are depending on me right now,” she answered quietly afterward “I don’t really have the luxury of slowing down.” The real problem was starting to show itself, it was not perfectionism— but obligation. I nodded slowly afterward “That explains the behavior”. Yeji blinked once “…Behavior?”
“Overworking. Skipping meals. Monitoring everybody else before yourself.” I gestured lightly toward the practice room around us. “You’re treating self-destruction like responsibility”. That one landed. Immediately. Her expression shifted before she could fully stop it. For a second I genuinely thought she might argue again. “…You talk like a psychologist” she said looking away instead. “I paid an irresponsible amount of money to become one.” That finally pulled the faintest unwilling reaction out of her again. Small. But there.
I pushed off the wall afterward before casually picking up the untouched food container beside her and holding it out “Eat”. Yeji stared at me for a second “Are you always this pushy?” before taking the container from my hands. “No,” I answered honestly. “Usually people rest before I need to become annoying” I pointed out. “That sounds threatening” she told me. “It’s a promise.” That earned an actual visible exhale out of her this time. Not quite laughter. Closer to disbelief. But honestly? It was probably the first emotionally genuine reaction she’d had all afternoon. I would consider that progress.
The strange thing about exhaustion was how quickly people built personalities around it. By the second week, I started noticing patterns that had nothing to do with choreography anymore. Yeji automatically checked everybody else’s condition before acknowledging her own. She apologized whenever staff members adjusted schedules around her. She thanked people for things that should’ve been expected. And somehow— she still looked mildly uncomfortable anytime I forced her to sit down for longer than five consecutive minutes. It’s starting to be concerning. “You’re staring again” her voice pulled me out of thought while we sat near one of the side rehearsal rooms waiting for a delayed recording setup to finish “I’m observing” she squinted her eyes at me “That sounds creepier somehow”
“That’s because psychology as a profession is fundamentally invasive.” Yeji looked down briefly afterward, unsuccessfully hiding the faint reaction at the corner of her mouth. It is much easier to make her smile when she forgot she was supposed to act composed. The room settled quietly afterward. Staff members moved back and forth through the hallway outside while somebody farther down the corridor tested audio loud enough to echo faintly through the walls. It was just me and Yeji at the edge of the practice room then she suddenly broke the silence “…You really think I’m that bad?” The question didn’t defensive this time. I leaned back slightly in the chair afterward before answering carefully. “I think you got used to functioning exhausted.” Yeji lowered her eyes toward the bottled drink resting between her hands “That’s normal here”.
“See, that sentence specifically is the problem.” That earned the faintest crease between her brows again. “You keep talking like I’m doing something wrong.” A hint of guilt in her voice. I stayed quiet for a second before eventually shaking my head. “I don’t think you’re doing anything wrong,” I glanced briefly toward the hallway outside afterward, “Honest opinion? I believe you adapted to survive an environment that rewards self-destruction”. The room quieted again afterward. Yeji didn’t respond immediately this time. Instead she sat there silently turning the unopened drink slowly between her hands while thinking. People became quieter once conversations started reaching places they usually avoided, so this was another good sign. Eventually she exhaled softly “…You sound like you hate this industry, do you?” Interesting question. “I think this industry confuses endurance with worth.” That made her look at me properly again. Not because the statement shocked her. Because it sounded familiar.
I continued before she could disappear back into her own head again “That doesn’t mean I think idols are weak for enduring it,” I added calmly “I just think people stop questioning unhealthy things once enough talented people survive them”. Yeji stayed quiet afterward. Thinking again “…John talks similarly sometimes”. That was the first time I’ve been compared with John and that answer honestly explained more than she probably realized “TWICE sunbaenim”. The words left her mouth casually. Then immediately afterward, Yeji looked mildly caught off guard that she said it aloud at all. I leaned back slightly deeper into the chair afterward. “He was around during a pretty ugly part of my life”. Yeji didn’t pry— another interesting thing about her. Most people became more curious once they sensed damage in somebody else. Yeji instead looked almost careful around it. Like she understood boundaries too well. “…And you trust him too?” she asked quietly.
I laughed softly once under my breath “Unfortunately for me— I trust him with my life.” That finally earned another small reaction out of her. Tiny moments of ease were becoming more frequent now. Not comfort yet just a rhythm and that mattered. Outside the hallway, somebody called for Yeji a few moments later to prepare for the next recording setup. The moment her name was called, her posture immediately shifted again. Straightened. Focused. Ready. And that happened too fast, it was more dangerous behavior I got to see.
Yeji stood quickly afterward before instinctively reaching for the tablet and schedule folder beside her at the same time. Then paused. Because I was already holding one of them “…You don’t need to carry that”. I looked at her before calmly answering “You also don’t need to carry everything yourself”. That immediately earned a look from her. Not irritation or gratitude, it was something more complicated. Like she didn’t fully know what to do with somebody noticing things she normally handled automatically.
The next week became progressively worse in ways most people probably wouldn’t have noticed. Unfortunately for everyone involved, noticing things was apparently my job now. Schedules tightened. Rehearsals ran longer. Sleep became negotiable. And somewhere in the middle of all that, Yeji slowly started looking less like somebody preparing for a solo debut and more like somebody trying to outrun exhaustion through sheer momentum alone. It was a very common strategy, and an extremely risky one at that. The problem with highly functional people was that they usually collapsed privately first. Which meant by the time everyone else noticed— things were already bad.
I started restructuring what I could quietly. Longer transition gaps between rehearsals. Mandatory meal windows disguised as schedule adjustments. Reducing unnecessary media overlap. Pushing less urgent recordings later whenever possible. Small changes. But Yeji noticed every single one immediately. Of course she did. “You moved the dance review again” the accusation came the moment she stepped into the hallway outside one of the rehearsal rooms late that evening. I glanced up from the schedule tablet in my hands “I optimized it”. She pointed out my decision “You delayed it” it took a second for me to correct her “Those are emotionally different statements”. She looked serious this time “That doesn’t answer my question. Why?” she sounded more awake when frustrated.
I looked at Yeji in her eyes, I wasn’t going to back down on this “You slept four hours.” She didn’t see what was wrong with that, “It’s plenty enough” she said. “The hell it is,” I answered neutrally “That’s barely survival”. Yeji folded her arms loosely afterward “We don’t have enough time right now to prioritize comfort”. Interesting wording, comfort— not health. “You think sleep is a luxury,” I observed quietly “I think this debut matters.” I could tell from that response that she wasn’t afraid of failure, It was the fear of disappointing people.
The hallway quieted briefly afterward while staff members moved around farther down the corridor preparing equipment for the next setup. Yeji looked exhausted. But more than that—
she looked frustrated that exhaustion was becoming visible at all. “You’re treating yourself like a deadline instead of a person again,” I said eventually. That immediately made her expression tighten slightly. Not because the statement offended her, my words landed too accurately. “You make it sound simple” she told me. “It’s not simple” I disagreed with that observation. “Then stop talking like it is.” There it is. First genuine emotional pushback. Honestly, it was overdue too. I stayed quiet for a second afterward before answering more carefully. “I don’t think taking care of yourself is simple,” I said calmly. “I think you’ve spent so long believing your value comes from enduring things that resting now feels irresponsible.”
The silence afterward felt heavier. Not dramatic. Just honest enough to become uncomfortable. Yeji looked away first “…People are counting on me,” she muttered quietly. “And you think collapsing helps them?” I pointed that out. “That’s not what I said” she tried to argue. “No,” I agreed softly. “But it’s where this ends if you keep going like this.” That one landed harder. Immediately because for the first time since I met her, Yeji didn’t have a response ready. Just tired silence. Then eventually somebody farther down the hallway called her name again Schedule continuing. Yeji exhaled softly afterward before pushing herself away from the wall “…I have to go.”
“I know” she took maybe two steps before stopping unexpectedly. Then without fully turning back “…You’re really annoying, you know that?” she wasn’t mad or dismissive. And honesty I smiled faintly afterward “I’ve been told worse”. That finally earned the smallest breath of laughter out of her before she disappeared farther down the hallway again and that worried me more than the arguments did. Because people didn’t start letting somebody disrupt their coping mechanisms unless exhaustion was finally beginning to outweigh resistance.
After that, something subtle changed between them. Not closeness or comfort. Just familiarity settling into places where resistance used to exist. Yeji still argued occasionally whenever Ben rearranged parts of her schedule, but the arguments started sounding less like rejection and more like somebody frustrated that another person kept noticing things she was trying very hard to ignore. Unfortunately for her, Ben was professionally difficult to discourage “You moved the recording review again.” I didn’t even look at her since that was a sentence I’ve heard too many times, “You say that like I committed tax fraud.”
She sounded serious this time, “You’re delaying it.”
“No, I optimized it.”
“That’s still delaying it.”
“Emotionally different.”
Yeji sighed tiredly afterward while pinching lightly at the bridge of her nose. I noticed another thing too during those days. Yeji’s exhaustion no longer looked sharp. Earlier on, she burned brightly— tense, overfocused, constantly moving like momentum alone kept her upright. Now? Everything about her started looking quieter. And somehow that worried him more. People expected burnout to look explosive. Most of the time it actually looked like somebody slowly disappearing inside their own routines. The first moment that genuinely unsettled him happened during choreography rehearsals late one evening.
One of the dancers missed a formation transition badly enough for the music to stop mid-run. Normally, Yeji would’ve immediately stepped in to help correct positioning before staff members even asked. This time she just stood there silently for a second too long while staring toward the mirrored wall. Barely noticeable for people, but enough for me. The choreographer repeated the correction afterward and Yeji apologized immediately despite the mistake not even being hers. Still carrying responsibility for things beyond her control. But slower now. Like even guilt was becoming exhausting. I didn’t say anything about it immediately, I just started to observe her more carefully afterward.
And the more I watched, the more something about her behavior started feeling wrong in a way exhaustion alone couldn’t fully explain anymore. Because Yeji wasn’t just tired now. She was starting to detach from things she normally cared about instinctively. That part worried me the most. I didn’t mention it immediately. Mostly because I was still trying to figure out whether I was overanalyzing things or not. Occupational hazard. Psychology teaches you very quickly that there’s a dangerous difference between observing patterns and projecting fears onto them. And I’d made enough mistakes in my life already to know I wasn’t immune to the latter.
But the feeling stayed. Something about Yeji had changed. Not externally enough for most people to notice. She still rehearsed. Still smiled when cameras appeared. Still thanked staff members politely. Still carried herself like a dependable leader. But now it all felt… quieter. Like she was performing responsibility from memory instead of conviction. That thought sat badly with me for the rest of the week. The final rehearsal stretch before the solo debut became brutal even by industry standards. Everybody looked exhausted. Yeji somehow looked both exhausted and emotionally absent at the same time. That combination started to raise alarms in my head. I started catching smaller things afterward. She stopped checking playback monitors as obsessively. Stopped correcting tiny choreography inconsistencies immediately. Stopped rereading schedules during every spare moment. At first glance, somebody probably would’ve called that improvement. I didn’t. Because none of it felt like relief. It felt like withdrawal. And that scared me more than any of her overworking ever did. One night after rehearsals ended, I found myself walking through one of the quieter hallways near the upper practice rooms while answering emails on my phone. The building had mostly emptied out already. Only a few staff members still moved between floors. Then I noticed one of the rehearsal room doors partially open. Music wasn’t playing inside. I glanced up briefly while passing by— and stopped walking immediately afterward.
Yeji sat alone near the mirrored wall with her knees loosely pulled closer toward herself while staring blankly at the dark practice room floor. No tablet. No schedules. No reviewing choreography… Just silence. Something unpleasant settled heavily in my chest immediately afterward. Because suddenly every small behavioral shift from the past week connected all at once in my head. Shit, how did I miss that?
I stayed near the doorway for a second longer than normal before finally speaking “You know sitting alone in dark rehearsal rooms is usually how horror movies start, right?” The response came slowly. Not startled. Just delayed “…You’d survive the movie.” that was her reaction? Not a “Hi” or “You scared me”. Just quiet acknowledgment that I existed there beside her. I stepped inside carefully afterward before closing the door behind me halfway. Not trapped. Just quieter. Yeji still hadn’t moved much. Didn’t look embarrassed either. That worried me immediately. I lowered myself down beside the mirrored wall a short distance away afterward, giving her space.
For a while neither of us spoke. The silence didn’t feel awkward. Just heavy. Then eventually “…Do you ever wonder if people can just run out of wanting things?” She sounded like she was drowning in hopelessness. For the first time since taking this job, I genuinely felt uncertain about whether I was equipped to handle what came next.
I stayed quiet for a second too long afterward. Not because I didn’t hear her. Because I was trying very carefully not to answer that question carelessly. People said dangerous things quietly long before they ever acted on them loudly. And something about the way Yeji asked that didn’t feel hypothetical at all. Eventually I leaned my head lightly back against the mirrored wall behind me before answering honestly “Yeah, I do. All the time actually”. Yeji didn’t look surprised by the answer “I think people get exhausted enough that eventually wanting things starts feeling heavier than giving them up” I continued. The room stayed silent afterward. The faint hum of the building’s ventilation somewhere above us. Yeji lowered her eyes toward the floor again “…That sounds depressing.”
“It’s psychology.” I shrugged lightly. “We market depression professionally”. That finally earned the faintest breath of amusement out of her. Small and weak, but real enough that I kept talking afterward “The important part is that exhaustion lies to people”. Yeji stayed quiet while listening. “It starts convincing you that permanent decisions are rational solutions to temporary emotional states.” that one landed immediately. I could tell. Not because she reacted dramatically. Because she went still— dangerously still. I kept my voice calm afterward despite the unpleasant realization slowly settling heavier in my chest “You’ve been thinking about leaving, haven’t you.” Not a question, I have fears that she was this far and this had just confirmed my fears.
Silence stretched between us immediately afterward. Long enough that a part of me almost wished I was horrendously wrong this time. Yeji eventually broke the silence “…I don’t know if I can keep doing this.” That was conventionally worse than just wanting to quit. Because she sounded guilty about reaching the thought. I exhaled slowly through my nose afterward while trying very carefully not to mishandle what this conversation was actually becoming. This wasn’t burnout anymore. This was somebody emotionally detaching from their own future. Very dangerous territory, dangerous enough that the wrong sequence of words would fuck everything up.
“You don’t need to decide your entire life tonight” Yeji laughed softly once under her breath afterward. No amusement in it “That’s easy for you to say”. There was no hostility in those words— just tired enough that hope itself probably sounded unrealistic right now. “I’m serious.” I looked toward her properly afterward. “You’re exhausted, overworked, emotionally isolated, and carrying enough pressure to distort your judgment.”
“You make me sound unstable” those words were wrong, she isn’t unstable— she was just pushed near her breaking point, and that was a far breaking point. “I think you’ve been strong for too long without resting properly” I paused briefly “Those aren’t the same thing.” That quieted her immediately again. This was an important distinction. Because the last thing she needed right now was to feel broken on top of exhausted. Yeji pulled her knees slightly closer afterward while staring down toward the floor “…Everybody keeps depending on me.” That was the obligation shackled to her. Always obligation. “And somewhere along the way,” she continued quietly, “I think I stopped knowing if I still wanted any of this for myself.”
That one hurt to hear. Not because it sounded dramatic. Because it sounded honest. It was that moment I suddenly understood why Jihyo sounded so worried back at the café. Because this wasn’t somebody collapsing loudly. This was somebody quietly preparing themselves to disappear from a life they no longer believed they were surviving correctly. I rubbed lightly at my forehead afterward before speaking again “Can I say something potentially annoying?” That earned the faintest glance toward me “…You usually do anyway, why ask permission now?”. Good a tiny reaction like that meant that she’s still there, Yeji wasn’t far gone.
“I think you’ve spent so long treating yourself like a responsibility that you forgot you’re also a person” the silence afterward felt heavier than anything else we’d said all night. Yeji looked away first. And for the first time since I met her, she genuinely looked close to crying.
That scared me more than if she actually cried immediately. Because people like Yeji didn’t usually break all at once. They held everything together for so long that by the time emotion finally surfaced, it usually meant they were already dangerously close to their limit. She kept looking away from me like maintaining eye contact would make the conversation too real somehow “…I don’t know how to stop”. That sounded like an exhaustion so deeply integrated into her identity that she genuinely no longer understood what existing outside of it looked like.
I answered carefully “You don’t have to figure that out tonight.” Yeji laughed softly again beneath her breath. Still tired. Still hollow. “But tomorrow still happens.” That one landed harder than she probably intended— because she was right. Schedules still existed. The debut is still happening. Expectations still existed. That was the ugly truth, part of what made this industry so psychologically dangerous was how little space it gave people to fall apart safely. I stayed quiet for a second afterward before speaking again.
“Okay.” I nodded once slowly. “Then don’t think about next month. Or next year. Or whether you stay in the industry forever.” Yeji finally looked toward me properly again “Then what am I supposed to think about?” I pointed at the clock “Tonight, for starters.” That quieted her immediately. I continued before she could spiral back into her own head again “You don’t need to decide your entire future while emotionally exhausted.”
“That sounds irresponsible” her instinctive belief that suffering somehow produced better decisions. “No,” I answered calmly “What’s irresponsible is making permanent decisions while psychologically cornered”. The room went silent again afterward. But this time the silence felt different. Less detached and more fragile. Yeji lowered her eyes slowly afterward before finally admitting something quieter than everything else she’d said so far “I’m scared that if I stop even for a second, everything will fall apart.”
That was her real fear. Not failure. Not criticism. Collapse. And she was dangerously near the edge of collapsing too. I leaned my head lightly back against the mirrored wall again afterward before answering honestly “You know what the worst part is?”. Yeji blinked once tiredly “What?” I looked towards Yeji “You actually believe the people around you only deserve the version of you that’s suffering correctly”. That one hit immediately. I saw it happen in real time. Her expression tightened slightly before she looked away again too quickly and suddenly, I understood something else too. Yeji didn’t just feel responsible for people. She felt that she was easily replaceable. Like the moment she stopped functioning perfectly, somebody better deserved her place instead.
That kind of thinking destroyed people slowly. I rubbed lightly at my jaw afterward while trying very carefully to choose my next words correctly. Because honestly? I still wasn’t fully confident I had the right words, I just knew the wrong words and that I should avoid those. “I’m going to tell you something professionally irresponsible now”. That finally earned the faintest confused reaction out of her “…That sounds concerning.” I laughed a bit “It probably is.” I looked toward her properly afterward. “I don’t think you actually want to leave”. The room quieted instantly. Not because she disagreed. Because she needed to hear the rest.
“I think you want the pain to stop,” I continued softly “And right now your brain is trying to convince you those are the same thing.” Yeji stared at the floor silently afterward. Then very quietly “What if it never stops?” That was the moment I realized this had already gone far beyond anything I could safely handle through professionalism alone. The room stayed silent for a while after Yeji asked that question and I didn’t answer immediately, because honestly— I didn’t have an immediate answer. People liked imagining psychology experts as individuals who always knew the right thing to say during emotional collapse. In reality, most of the job was quietly hoping your words reached someone before their hopelessness did. Because false reassurance would’ve insulted her intelligence. Eventually I exhaled quietly through my nose before answering honestly “Then we adapt”. Yeji blinked slightly. Not the answer she expected “You say that like it’s simple.”
“It’s not simple.” I shook my head lightly afterward. “But neither is convincing yourself you need to disappear just because you’re exhausted.” that quieted her again. I leaned my arms loosely over my knees afterward while looking toward the dark practice room floor ahead of us. “You know the biggest lie high-functioning people tell themselves?” Yeji looked toward me quietly. “That needing rest means they failed” her expression shifted immediately. “I don’t think you actually want to quit” I carried on talking, “I think you’re emotionally cornered enough that you started treating self-removal like responsibility.” The room stayed completely still afterward, the exhaustion finally being spoken out loud instead of performed through professionalism.
Yeji lowered her eyes slowly “…I hate how accurately you read people”. I sighed lightly. “Trust me, it’s significantly less fun from this side.” That finally earned another small breath of laughter out of her. It was a fragile laugh, but better. Then eventually she spoke again “What if I disappoint everyone?”
There it was again— the fear of failing others. Always others. I answered carefully. “You’ve attached your worth to how much suffering you can endure for people.” I glanced toward her briefly afterward. “That’s not leadership. That’s self-destruction with a good marketing team”. That one made her laugh properly. Real enough that it echoed faintly through the otherwise empty practice room. That sound alone relieved something in my chest I didn’t realize had been tightening for the past hour. Yeji rubbed lightly at her eyes afterward before exhaling slowly “You really are annoying.”
“There it is,” I smiled in relief “That’s the version of you I’ve been waiting to hear again.” That immediately made her pause. The room quieted again afterward, it was softer this time— less hopeless. Yeji stared toward the floor silently for a few seconds longer before eventually asking “You really think I can still do this?” A careful question yet still a dangerous one too. Because this wasn’t asking if the debut would succeed but asking if she was still capable of her role without self-imploding. I answered honestly “I think you’re exhausted enough that you stopped recognizing yourself properly.” Yeji listened quietly. “And I think making permanent decisions from that emotional state would be unfair to yourself”. Another silence settled afterward then finally she added “I don’t want to disappear.”
That was when I saw the real Yeji. Not Yeji the leader or Yeji the idol— Just Yeji. And that was probably the first moment since taking this job that I genuinely believed she was going to survive this properly. The relief that followed that realization hit harder than expected. Because suddenly I became a little too aware that this situation had already stopped feeling professionally distant to me a while ago. Yeji turned toward me slightly afterward. Still tired and fragile, but present again. And for a few seconds neither of us spoke. We just sat there quietly in the dim practice room while the city outside the building kept moving completely unaware that somebody inside had just barely talked themselves back from disappearing emotionally.
“Thank you” it were simple words. Honest ones too. I nodded once lightly afterward “You don’t need to thank me for staying”. The moment the sentence left my mouth, I saw the shift happen. It was tiny, barely visible. Because suddenly Yeji looked at me differently. Not as a manager or a nosy-pain-in-the-ass psychology major or just somebody temporarily hired to help her survive the recent schedules— just someone she emotionally found herself reaching toward instinctively. The timing was dangerous too. Honestly? I probably should’ve looked away first.
Instead, Yeji moved before I fully processed the expression on her face. Small movement.
Careful movement. Like she was still uncertain even while choosing it. Then suddenly—
warmth against my lips. Brief and soft. Hesitant enough that it almost felt like a question instead of a kiss, and somehow that made it hit infinitely harder. For a second neither of us moved afterward. Not because the kiss shocked me. Because my brain was trying very hard to decide whether responding to it would immediately make me a terrible person professionally. Occupationally inconvenient timing.
Yeji pulled back first. Not far. Just enough that I could finally properly see the expression on her face. And honestly? That destroyed any possibility of misunderstanding what just happened. She didn’t look impulsive. She didn’t look emotionally unstable. There wasn’t even a look of embarrassment. Just terrified of being rejected for choosing something selfish for once. Shit… a dangerous realization. A VERY DANGEROUS realization hit me “You probably shouldn’t have done that,” I said quietly, not harsh— just honest. Yeji lowered her eyes immediately afterward “…I know”. No defensiveness, no regret either. That was an important difference.
The silence stretched between us again for a few seconds before I finally rubbed lightly at my forehead and exhaled quietly through my nose. Because unfortunately, professionalism became significantly harder to maintain once somebody looked at you like you were the first place they emotionally felt safe landing in months. Terrible design flaw in humanity honestly, and one that I wasn’t immune to either. “You’re emotionally exhausted,” I continued carefully. “And I need you to understand that I’m taking that seriously.” Yeji nodded once slowly “I know.”
“That kiss can’t become something you use because you’re falling apart.” that one hurt her slightly. I saw it immediately. Not because she thought I was rejecting her. Because she thought I misunderstood her. Yeji looked toward the floor quietly for a second before finally answering “I didn’t do it because I’m breaking.” her voice stayed soft the entire time. “But?” she hesitated briefly afterward “…I did it because you stayed.” That one nearly destroyed my remaining professionalism on impact. Because suddenly every moment from the past few weeks rearranged itself differently in my head.
The arguments. The resistance. The exhaustion. The trust. The gradual honesty. None of it had been impulsive. This girl had been consciously choosing emotional proximity little by little the entire time. I looked away briefly afterward while trying unsuccessfully to reorganize my thoughts into something psychologically responsible. That didn’t work. Unfortunate. “You’re making this difficult for me.” That finally earned the faintest tired breath of amusement out of her “…Sorry.”
“There’s the apologizing again” that actually made her smile slightly. And somehow the sight of it after the past few days hit significantly harder than it should have. Concerning to me more than to Yeji. I stayed quiet for another second afterward before finally speaking more honestly than I probably should’ve “I’m trying very hard not to become somebody who takes advantage of emotionally vulnerable people”. Yeji’s expression softened immediately afterward. Not offended. It was understanding “You’re not”. Another dangerous answer. Especially because part of me wanted very badly to believe her immediately. I leaned my head lightly back against the mirrored wall afterward while staring toward the ceiling for a second “This is usually the part where I make terrible life decisions.”
“That sounds oddly specific” a giggle escaped her. “You’d be horrified how common emotionally compromised attachment is in this field, even for people like me who don’t professionally practice.” That earned another quiet laugh out of her. Much better sound now. She sounded more alive again. That realization alone probably should’ve warned me how emotionally involved I already was becoming. Yeji shifted slightly closer afterward. Not enough to touch. Just enough that the distance between us no longer felt accidental “…Do you regret it?” Carefully questioned. It wasn’t her asking me if I like her or if what she did was wrong— it was her subtly asking if I liked that it happened.
I answered honestly “…No” despite the professional choice was to lie— the word left my mouth much easier than professionalism probably would’ve preferred. And judging from the way Yeji’s shoulders relaxed slightly afterward— it mattered more to her than she intended to show.
The strange thing afterward was that nothing became dramatically different overnight. That probably reassured me more than anything else could’ve. Because if Yeji suddenly became emotionally impulsive after that conversation, I would’ve immediately known the kiss came from emotional instability instead of clarity. But she didn’t. The next few days still looked exhausting. Still chaotic. Still overloaded with rehearsals, fittings, recording reviews, and endless adjustments leading into the debut. The difference was subtler than that. Yeji started feeling present again. Not constantly. Not perfectly. But enough. Enough that I started catching small moments I hadn’t seen before. Like actual irritation instead of exhausted compliance “You moved the rehearsal review again”. I glanced up from the schedule tablet calmly. “Correct.”
“You’re abusing authority.”
“No, I’m exercising competence.”
“That sounds narcissistic.”
“That sounds like somebody who slept five hours instead of three.”
“You’re impossible.”
Yeji narrowed her eyes immediately afterward while I continued walking down the hallway beside her completely unbothered “And yet your blood pressure’s improving. Curious.”. Yeji walked up close to my face “That’s not funny.” I just looked at her without a sense of shame “It’s a little funny, you have to admit that”. The fact she rolled her eyes instead of shutting down emotionally afterward mattered significantly more than she realized. Small behavioral recovery, but real. That became enough for me to start breathing easier too.
Despite the positive changes it felt dangerous on my end. Because somewhere along the way, I stopped measuring her condition professionally and started measuring it personally instead. I noticed when she smiled more naturally. When she ate without being reminded.
When she stopped rereading schedules obsessively during downtime. When she started talking to staff members casually again instead of mechanically. And the worst part? She noticed me noticing. That became a problem almost immediately.
“You’re staring again.”
“I’m observing.”
“You say that like it’s legally distinct.”
“It IS legally distinct.”
Yeji laughed quietly beneath her breath afterward while adjusting the oversized hoodie hanging loosely over her rehearsal clothes. That sound still affected me more than it should’ve. Occupationally inconvenient. Very inconvenient.
The solo preparations became more intense the closer debut approached. But strangely enough— the atmosphere around Yeji stopped feeling like slow emotional collapse and started feeling like pressure again. Still difficult and unhealthy pressure. But no longer hopeless. That distinction mattered a lot. One evening after rehearsal review, I found her sitting cross-legged near the edge of the practice room floor while reviewing camera positioning notes. Normal enough. Except this time, she actually looked focused instead of emotionally detached. Progress.
I lowered myself beside her afterward while handing over the protein drink she forgot sitting near the mirrors twenty minutes earlier “You keep leaving these everywhere”. Yeji accepted it quietly before glancing sideways toward me “…You remember small things annoyingly well.”
“Psychological profiling.”
“That’s not how profiling works.”
“You don’t know that.”
“I literally Googled it after meeting you.”
That genuinely caught me off guard enough to laugh once “You researched me?” Yeji looked mildly embarrassed immediately afterward “…That sounded worse out loud.” I couldn’t hold back my grin to the admission of guilt “Ohh it’s significantly worse”. Yeji was flustered “I was curious.”
The room settled quieter afterward. Not awkward. Just softer now. That softness between us was becoming harder to ignore every day. Because nothing dramatic kept happening between us after the kiss. No stolen make-out sessions. No reckless emotional escalation. No relationship-defining conversations. Just consistency. Me staying. Her letting me. And somehow that became infinitely more intimate than impulsiveness ever would’ve been. One night closer to the debut showcase, the company finally cleared rehearsals earlier than expected after one of the production teams ran behind schedule. Miracle-level event honestly. The dancers left first. Then staff members. Then eventually the practice rooms emptied one by one until only scattered voices remained farther down the hallway.
Yeji sat near the edge of the stage platform afterward while loosely stretching one leg absentmindedly. Tired. But not hollow anymore. I leaned lightly against the mirrored wall nearby while reviewing tomorrow’s schedule from my phone.
“Your first live showcase interview starts at ten.”
“That’s cruel of them.”
“You’ll survive.”
“Debatable.”
I glanced up briefly afterward “You nervous?” That made her pause. Not because she didn’t know the answer. Because she was actually thinking about it honestly now “…A little.” That was a healthy answer. Before she would’ve said that she was fine, now it was different. “You know,” I muttered while locking my phone afterward, “normal people usually celebrate before major life events”. Yeji looked toward me curiously “Celebrate how?”
“I don’t know.” I shrugged lightly. “Food. Alcohol. Property damage. Irreversible consequences and whatnot.”
“Wow… that escalated quickly.”
“I believe in emotional range.”
That finally earned another real laugh out of her. God. There it is again. That feeling in my chest was becoming a genuine issue now. The fact that I could even recognize the difference between her real laughter and the polite versions she used around cameras now probably said enough about how emotionally involved I was becoming. Occupationally? It was catastrophic. Yeji eventually shook her head softly afterward while standing from the floor and stretching lightly.
“You sound like somebody banned from multiple establishments.”
“Allegedly.”
“That’s not denial.”
“It’s legally safer than honesty.”
“Here I thought you’d just buy the establishment to unban yourself.”
“I thought I told John to keep that a secret.”
Another laugh. Smaller this time. The practice room slowly settled quiet around us afterward while both of us began gathering scattered notes and water bottles left behind from rehearsals. That normalcy almost affected me more than the emotionally intense moments did. Because two weeks ago, this room felt like the emotional equivalent of a sinking ship. Now? Yeji looked tired, overwhelmed occasionally— but alive again. That mattered a lot.
She eventually slung her bag over one shoulder afterward before glancing toward me again “…You’ll be there tomorrow, right?” Interesting question. She wasn’t asking if I’ll be managing tomorrow, which I would still be doing. It was just asking if I would be there— if I wanted to be there. This girl started to ask the dangerous questions. I answered anyway.
“Unfortunately you’re professionally stuck with me for the foreseeable future.”
“That sounds threatening.”
“It’s meant to be reassuring.”
Yeji smiled faintly beneath her breath afterward while walking beside me toward the hallway outside the practice room. The company building had mostly quieted down now. Only scattered staff members still moved through the upper floors preparing final showcase logistics. Tomorrow suddenly felt very close. That realization probably should’ve made me more nervous professionally than it did emotionally. Because now the debut no longer felt like another project or management assignment. Now it felt personal.
The elevator ride downward afterward stayed mostly quiet. At one point Yeji leaned lightly back against the wall beside the elevator buttons while staring ahead absentmindedly. Then quietly “…I’m still nervous” a healthier reaction. Before? She would’ve swallowed the feeling entirely. I glanced sideways toward her “That’s good”. That earned an immediate confused look. “You WANT me nervous?” I shook my head lightly. “I want you honest.” That quieted her again “…What if I mess up tomorrow?” I answered without hesitation this time “Then you’ll survive messing up tomorrow.” Yeji blinked once. Not because the answer comforted her. Because it reframed the fear entirely. “I think people around you accidentally made perfection sound fatal,” I continued calmly. “It isn’t.”
The elevator doors opened a second later toward the lower parking levels. Neither of us moved immediately. Then finally Yeji exhaled softly through her nose before stepping forward first “You really are annoyingly good at this”. If only she knew how uncertain I actually felt most of the time.
The next day disappeared into controlled chaos almost immediately. Hair styling. Wardrobe adjustments. Stage blocking. Last-minute technical corrections. Staff members moving through hallways at speeds that probably violated workplace safety regulations. Standard debut atmosphere honestly. But somewhere in the middle of all that noise, Yeji stayed surprisingly steady. Still nervous. Still overthinking occasionally. But no longer drowning in it.
That difference mattered more than flawless execution ever could. I caught smaller signs throughout the day too. She actually ate during breaks instead of pretending coffee counted as nutrition. Stopped apologizing every five minutes whenever minor delays happened. Even argued with one of the stylists over an accessory choice at one point. Excellent psychological recovery indicator honestly. Nothing says emotional stabilization quite like reclaiming the ability to become mildly difficult again. The showcase itself passed almost too quickly afterward.
One second we were still backstage reviewing final timings. Then suddenly lights, music, the deafening screams of the crowd. Performance mode. Truthfully watching Yeji walk onto that stage felt strangely different from every rehearsal leading up to it. Because this time she didn’t look like somebody desperately trying to survive expectations anymore. She looked like herself again. Confident. Sharp. Alive. The performance ended to overwhelming noise shortly afterward, I wouldn’t except less from the crowd’s reaction— I actually liked the title track, myself. But I wasn’t going to tell that to Yeji anytime soon. Then the staff members started rushing again. Applause. Adrenaline. Everybody speaking too loudly because emotional regulation apparently disappeared backstage after successful events. More standard industry behavior honestly. The moment Yeji fully stepped backstage again, the rest of ITZY immediately swarmed her.
Ryujin almost tackled her into a hug.
Yuna looked one emotional sentence away from crying.
Chaeryeong kept repeating “You were insane” like she still hadn’t fully processed the stage properly.
And Lia— mostly just looked relieved.
That one probably hit Yeji hardest. I stayed farther back near the hallway entrance afterward while giving them space naturally. Professional distance. Mostly.
Then eventually Yuna suddenly pointed toward me mid-conversation. “WAIT— you’re the psychology guy”. Great, just great, that title somehow sounded significantly more suspicious than my actual job. Ryujin looked between me and Yeji immediately afterward “…You hired him secretly?”
“That sounds illegal when you phrase it like that,” Yeji muttered tiredly.
“I mean technically Jihyo unnie introduced us,” I added calmly.
“That somehow sounds MORE suspicious,” Ryujin answered immediately.
Ryujin was an interesting one, sharper than she lets off too. Chaeryeong looked toward Yeji afterward before quietly asking “You’ve been with him this whole preparation?” Yeji hesitated briefly. Then nodded once. The atmosphere shifted slightly after that— subtle but noticeable. Because suddenly the members weren’t just looking at some temporary manager the company recommended, now they were looking at somebody who had been beside Yeji through the worst parts of the solo preparation they themselves only partially witnessed from the outside.
Lia understood first. I saw it happen almost immediately in her expression. Recognition, not in how Yeji looked at me or the way I secretly struggled to stay professional about Yeji, but the recognition of Yeji’s burnout. Honestly a dangerous thing to recognize in another person. “Thank you” Lia said quietly afterward. Simple yet heavy words. And somehow that affected me more than the louder reactions did. Because unlike the others— Lia understood exactly how ugly emotional exhaustion could become once somebody normalized surviving through it too long. I answered carefully “She did most of the work herself”. Yeji looked away immediately afterward in embarrassment— that didn’t help me look innocent at all despite me being actually innocent in all of this.
“Okay but professionally speaking, the vibe here feels suspiciously emotionally healthy” Yuna suddenly pointed dramatically between the two of us. “That’s because you’re used to dysfunction,” Ryujin answered instantly. “THAT SOUNDED TARGETED” Yuna yelled “Because it is” Ryujin retorted in amusement.
The backstage room immediately dissolved into overlapping noise afterward while Yuna fake-argued and Ryujin looked entirely too pleased with herself. For the first time since this whole situation started— the atmosphere around Yeji no longer felt fragile anymore. It just felt alive.
Later that night, after the official congratulations, staff photos, and endless “you did well” comments finally died down, Yeji found me near the parking entrance. “You said normal people celebrate.” I looked up from my phone. “I also mentioned property damage.” She grabbed me by the arm “Food and alcohol first”. Feeling like I declining her would be a death sentence “Responsible escalation, that’s good.” she smiled, tired but real. “Come with me?” There it was again. Choosing. I should’ve said no. Instead, twenty minutes later, we were tucked inside a quiet private booth at a small restaurant where the owner clearly knew better than to ask questions. Yeji ordered more food than she could realistically finish and one drink she kept pretending affected her more than it did.
“You’re a terrible actress,” I said. “I’m lightheaded” she blinked too innocently.
“You’ve had half a glass.”
“Emotionally, it was strong.”
“That’s not how alcohol works.”
“It is tonight.”
She laughed into her sleeve, and honestly, that sound probably ruined the last usable piece of my professionalism. After dinner, she leaned closer across the table, eyes clearer than she wanted me to believe. “When this is over tomorrow…” she paused, then corrected herself softly, “No. It is over now.” I stayed quiet. Her fingers tightened around the edge of her sleeve. “Can I choose something selfish again?” the room seemed to narrow around the question. Because I understood “Yeji”.
“I’m not falling apart tonight,” she said quietly. “I’m not asking because I need saving.” That mattered more than she knew “I know” I could only mutter acknowledgement “Then don’t treat me like I don’t know what I want”. For a second, I didn’t answer. Then I exhaled, defeated by the one thing I could never argue against properly. A conscious choice “…Okay.” Her smile came slowly. Soft. Relieved. Certain. And when she reached for my hand under the table, I let her.
By the time they left the restaurant, Seoul had already settled into the quieter side of the night. The streets weren’t empty— just calmer now. Yeji walked beside me with her hands tucked halfway into the sleeves of her oversized hoodie while the cold air carried the leftover exhaustion of the day out of both of us little by little. For the first time since this entire situation began, neither of us was talking about anything work related— just about normal and pointless things. She complained about one of the stage outfits. I informed her professionally that fashion was an organized crime syndicate. She laughed hard enough at that to nearly miss a step off the curb afterward. Somewhere during the drive back, the emotional atmosphere between us shifted again. Like both of us understood something irreversible had already happened emotionally and neither person particularly wanted to pretend otherwise anymore.
When we finally reached her residence building, I parked the car but didn’t immediately move to unbuckle my seatbelt. Neither did she. The city lights outside reflected softly across the windshield while silence settled between us again. Just aware. Yeji eventually leaned her head lightly back against the seat before exhaling quietly “…I really did almost quit.” an honest sentence. I looked toward her carefully afterward.
“I know.”
“And somehow that feels unreal now.”
“That’s usually how surviving emotional collapse feels afterward.” she smiled faintly beneath her breath “You make everything sound psychological.”
“That’s because unfortunately I am psychological.”
“That sounded medically concerning.”
“It probably is.”
Another laugh. Smaller this time. Sleepier. Then eventually the silence returned again. But this time neither of us seemed interested in escaping it. Yeji slowly turned toward me afterward. No uncertainty, not emotionally spiraling. Just plain clarity that never yielded. That probably affected me more than alcohol had to. Because this wasn’t exhaustion choosing closeness, not desperation, or emotional dependency clawing for comfort— this was simply her choosing. “…You’re thinking too hard,” she said quietly. “Can’t help it, occupational hazard” I exhaled softly through my nose afterward before finally admitting “I’m trying very hard to be responsible right now.” Yeji’s expression softened immediately “…You’ve been responsible this entire time” This was especially because she sounded so certain about it.
She shifted slightly closer afterward. Slow enough to stop if I wanted her to. I didn’t, the moment I realized that— I already knew professionalism had lost this fight a long time ago. Yeji’s fingers lightly curled against my hand first. Then her shoulder against mine “…Ben” that careful tone again, the one that was going to psychologically destroy me someday “Yeah?” Her eyes met mine quietly in the dim lighting inside the car. A warmth that showed no hesitation or second thoughts. She pressed her pressed her lips softly on mine, and this time I gave up on resisting and hiding behind that professional hurdle because I knew I would just be lying to the both of us. The silence afterward didn’t feel uncertain anymore. It felt inevitable. Yeji slowly pulled back just enough for both of us to breathe properly again, though judging from the way her fingers still lingered lightly against my hand, neither of us was particularly interested in creating real distance anymore “…Come upstairs.”
I should’ve probably still thought harder about it. Instead, I reached for the door handle first. That alone made Yeji laugh quietly beneath her breath while following beside me out of the car. The night air felt colder now or maybe that was just the adrenaline finally catching up. Neither of us spoke much while walking toward the entrance of her residence building. Not because there was tension. Because there was a lack of it along with the lack of uncertainty— just two people very aware of each other now. The elevator ride upward felt significantly smaller than before. Yeji stood beside me quietly with her hands partially hidden inside the sleeves of her hoodie again while the dim lighting reflected softly against the mirrored walls around us.
“You’re thinking again.” I glanced sideways toward her. “You say that like it’s a disease.” she smiled “I’m beginning to think it is.” I mirrored her grin “That’s medically offensive to psychologists everywhere” another smile. God those were becoming genuinely dangerous to my self-control. The elevator doors opened a second later toward her floor. Then suddenly we were walking down the quieter hallway toward her unit while Seoul’s city lights glowed faintly through the larger windows farther behind us. Yeji slowed slightly once she reached the door. Keys in hand then a pause while unlocking it. Something about the normalcy of that moment broke the last surviving piece of restraint I still had left.
Maybe it was the realization that she chose this— she chose me, or maybe I was simply tired of pretending I didn’t want her back just as badly anymore. Probably both. Yeji barely got the door unlocked before I reached for her first. The moment she turned toward me again, I kissed her properly this time. No hesitation. None of that careful emotional distance. Just accumulated restraint finally giving out all at once.
She made the softest surprised sound against my lips before immediately kissing me back just as hard, one hand instinctively catching against my jacket while the other still struggled half-successfully with the door handle behind her. The door finally opened behind her a second later, but neither of us immediately cared enough to separate first as we walked into the hall. My leg slowly kicked the door closed shut and her hand reached around my body to lock it back in place.
Neither of us stopped kissing long enough to breathe properly— I lifted her up against the narrow walls of her home, she proceeded to wrap her legs around me for stability as her both of her hands reached for my face before finally letting go the kiss. She took a moment to watch my face as I met her gaze as in return “Wow, what… happened to… all that… restraint?” she said in between her panting. I laughed softly beneath my breath afterward while keeping her pinned lightly against the wall, one hand still firm against her waist as if letting go now would somehow be physically impossible.
“Honestly?” I muttered while brushing another slower kiss against the corner of her mouth. “I think you psychologically wore it down over time.” Yeji laughed breathlessly at that, though it immediately dissolved into breathless sounds when I kissed her again before she could properly recover.
“That sounds irresponsible for a psychologist” as she slowly took off her the jacket that hid the frames of her body, leaving her sleeveless top to expose the skin of her neck and collarbone.
“It probably violates every professional guideline to ever exist.” I told her as I drew my face closer to her.
“That should concern me more.”
“It really should.” And yet neither of us sounded particularly interested in stopping anymore. This time my mouth the crevice of her collar, she started cooing when I led my tongue all the way to the side of her neck.
I didn't let her go. I carried her from the wall all the way to her room, my fingers digging into the soft flesh of her waist while my tongue traced the sensitive line of her jaw. The air in the small entryway felt thick, charged with a static that made the fine hairs on my arms stand up. Every breath she took was a jagged, uneven thing, echoing the frantic rhythm of my own heart. I shifted my weight, sliding one hand from her waist to the hem of her sleeveless top. I didn't ask. I didn't have to. The way she arched her back, pressing her chest into me, was the only answer I needed. I pulled the fabric over her head in one fluid motion, tossing it blindly into the hall.
She stood there in the dim light, her skin glowing like polished pearl. Her breasts were small, firm, with nipples already peaked and hard, straining against the cool air. I took a moment, just a second, to map her. I let my eyes travel from the delicate slope of her shoulders down to the dip of her waist and the flare of her hips. She was lean, a dancer's body, all hidden strength and supple grace. Yeji reached for the buttons of my shirt, her fingers trembling. She fumbled with the second one, a small huff of frustration escaping her lips. "Let me," I whispered.
I stripped out of my clothes with a haste that bordered on desperation, my eyes never leaving hers. When my pants hit the floor, my cock sprang free, fully erect and pulsing with a heavy, aching need.
Yeji stopped. Her gaze dropped, her eyes widening as she stared at me. She didn't move for a long moment, her breath hitching in her throat. Slowly, as if drawn by a magnet, she reached out. Her fingers were cool as they wrapped around the base of my shaft. She didn't know how to grip it—her hold was loose, tentative, her thumb brushing awkwardly against the underside. "Ben," she breathed, her voice a fragile thread. "Yeah?" She slid her hand up, her palm grazing the velvet heat of my glans. She let out a soft, shaky exhale, her eyes flickering back up to mine.
"I didn't expect... this."
"Too much?"
She shook her head quickly, though her brow furrowed with a flicker of genuine concern. She tightened her grip slightly, trying to encompass the girth, but her fingers didn't even come close to meeting on the other side. "It's just... you're so large. I think... this is the largest I've ever seen.” I felt a surge of possessive heat hit my gut. I stepped closer, the tip of my cock brushing against her thigh.
"Does it scare you?"
"No," she whispered, her gaze intensifying. "Not with you. I want it. I want all of it."
I didn't waste another second. I scooped her up, her legs locking around my waist instinctively, and carried her toward the bedroom. I dropped her onto the mattress, the springs creaking under the sudden weight. I hovered over her, my body a heavy shadow against her light. I spent the next twenty minutes mapping every inch of her. I wanted her skin memorized. I kissed the hollow of her throat, the valley between her breasts, and the soft skin of her stomach. I moved lower, my tongue tracing the line of her hip before diving between her thighs.
Yeji gasped, her hips jerking upward as I found her. She was already drenched, her pussy dripping a thick, sweet musk that filled my senses. I used my tongue to part her lips, tasting the salt and the heat. I focused on her clit, circling it with a precision that had her clawing at the sheets, her head tossing from side to side.
"Ben, please," she whimpered, her voice breaking. "I can't... I don't know what's happening."
"Just feel it, Yeji. Don't think. Just feel."
I moved back up, positioning myself between her legs. I reached down, guiding the head of my cock to her entrance. She was tight—terrifyingly tight—and as I pushed in, I felt her muscles stretch and protest. I stopped, letting her adjust, my breath hot against her ear.
"You okay?"
"Yes," she gasped, her eyes squeezed shut. "Just... keep going. Please."
I pushed deeper, my cock started to feel like a slow invasion within Yeji. I felt the friction of her walls hugging me, the heat of her internal muscles clamping down on my shaft. A wet, squelching sound filled the quiet of the room as I slid fully home, my pelvis slamming against her with a heavy thud.
Yeji let out a strangled cry, her eyes snapping open. She looked shocked, her chest heaving.
"You're... you're actually all the way in," she whispered, her voice sounding distant.
"Every inch," I reached in to give her a kiss.
I started to move. I kept it slow at first, pulling back until only the tip remained before slamming back in. The sound of our bodies colliding—a rhythmic, fleshy slapping—became the only thing in the world. I watched her face, the way her eyebrows knit together, the way her lips parted in a silent plea. I increased the pace, the friction building into a searing heat. I could feel her getting wetter, the lubrication making every thrust a sliding, shlicking mess. I shifted my angle, driving my cock upward to grind against her G-spot.
Yeji's reaction was instantaneous. Her back arched, her fingers digging into my shoulders, her nails were definitely going to leave some marks later.
"Something is... something is happening," she cried out, her voice rising in pitch. "Ben, I feel... it's too much!"
"Ride it, Yeji. Give in to it."
I didn't stop. I hammered into her, my movements becoming primal and uncoordinated. I could feel her insides beginning to quiver. Then, it happened.
Yeji's entire body stiffened. Her internal walls suddenly contracted, squeezing my shaft in a series of violent, rhythmic pulses. A loud, guttural moan tore from her throat, her eyes rolling back as her first-ever orgasm ripped through her.
For me, it was electric. The sensation of her clenching around me was an overwhelming pressure, a vacuum that pulled me deeper into her. The feeling of her climaxing while I was still buried inside her pushed me over the edge. I let out a soft moan, my muscles locking as I surged forward one last time, burying myself as deep as possible.
I felt the hot, thick jets of my cum flooding her, filling her to the brim. I stayed there, pinned to her, our hearts hammering in unison, the only sound the heavy, ragged breathing of two people who had just discovered a new language. Yeji lay limp beneath me, her eyes slowly fluttering open. She looked dazed, a small, bewildered smile on her lips.
"What... was that?" she whispered.
"That," I panted, kissing her forehead, "was an orgasm, Yeji."
She let out a soft, breathless laugh, her hand coming up to rest on my chest. "I didn't know... I didn't know it could feel like that. I feel like I just woke up for the first time in my life."
I rolled off her, pulling her into my arms. We lay there in the aftermath, the smell of sex and sweat clinging to the sheets. But as the minutes passed, the silence didn't feel like an end. It felt like a bridge. I looked down at her, seeing the flush still lingering on her cheeks, the way her eyes looked wider, clearer. The desire returned, not as a frantic need, but as a slow, simmering hunger. I shifted, my cock already stirring again, reacting to the proximity of her warmth. "Round two?" I murmured. Yeji didn't answer with words. She simply flipped over, presenting her backside to me, her hips tilted up in an invitation that made my blood boil.
I didn't waste time with foreplay this time, she was already wet again— I guess the thought of going another round was enough to flip a switch. I knelt behind her, my hands gripping her hips, pulling her toward the edge of the bed. I rubbed dick around the folds of her pussy, lubricating the head of my cock before sliding back into her from behind.
The angle was different, deeper. I felt the tip of my shaft kiss the entrance of her cervix, and Yeji let out a sharp, high-pitched gasp.
"Oh god," she whimpered, her face pressed into the pillow. "That's... that's even deeper."
"You like it?" I asked, my voice a low rasp.
"Yes... please, Ben... more… no one has ever… reached that far." she was trying to speak in between her moans.
I began to move, my thrusts becoming more vigorous, more aggressive. I wasn't being gentle anymore. I wanted her to feel every bit of the size she had been worried about. I drove into her with a rhythmic intensity, the sound of my skin slapping against her skin echoing in the room. The friction was intense, the squelching sounds of our interaction becoming louder as we both became drenched in sweat. I reached around, my fingers finding her clit, rubbing it in sync with every thrust.
Yeji was losing it. She was sobbing now, not from pain, but from a sensory overload that was stripping away every last bit of her composure.
"I'm going again!" she screamed, her voice echoing through the apartment. "I can feel it! Ben, please don't stop!"
I didn't. I pushed her harder, my movements becoming a blur of heat and friction. I felt her build up again, the tension in her legs shaking, her breath coming in short, sharp bursts. Then, the wave hit her. It wasn't just one orgasm this time. It was a cascade. Her internals clamped down on me in a series of prolonged, rolling contractions. I felt her body shudder beneath me, her voice dissolving into a series of incoherent whimpers as she experienced multiple, overlapping peaks of pleasure.
The sensation was intoxicating. Having her unravel beneath me, feeling her body completely surrender to the pleasure I was providing, sent me spiraling. I felt my own climax building, a pressure in my loins that felt like it was about to explode. I let out a choked sound, my grip tightening on her hips as I delivered a final, powerful thrust. I felt my cock pulse violently inside her, sending another massive load of cum deep into her womb. I groaned, my forehead resting against her back, my entire body vibrating with the force of the release.
We collapsed together, a tangle of limbs and damp skin. I pulled her back against my chest, my arm draped over her waist. The room was silent again, save for the sound of our breathing. Yeji turned her head, looking at me with eyes that were soft, exhausted, and entirely content. "I think," she whispered, her voice sounding raw, "that I might actually be able to sleep tonight." I chuckled, kissing the back of her neck. "Mission accomplished."
She shifted, snuggling closer into my warmth, her hand finding mine and interlocking our fingers. For the first time in years, the weight of the world—the schedules, the expectations, the crushing pressure of leadership—felt light. It felt irrelevant.
"Ben?"
"Yeah?"
"Don't ever leave me alone in a dark rehearsal room again."
I smiled, closing my eyes. "Deal."
Morning arrived significantly softer than either of us expected. There was a lack of emotional panic, regret, or awkward distance. Just quiet. Yeji stood barefoot in her kitchen wearing one of her oversized shirts while scrolling through fan reactions on her phone with visible concentration the same way I was working on my doctoral thesis when I was still getting my master’s degree. That piqued my interest “Okay this one’s lying,” she muttered while reading another comment. I glanced up briefly from the coffee I was making “Which one?”
“‘Yeji looked calm and relaxed on stage.’” She looked toward me suspiciously. “I was fighting for my life internally.” She let out a laugh. God, the domestic normalcy of this morning was affecting me significantly more than the sex itself had. Which honestly felt medically concerning. Yeji eventually walked closer afterward before silently leaning against my side while continuing to scroll through her phone letting the moment soak in before looking back at me “…We should probably talk to them.”
I already knew who she meant immediately. Jihyo. John. God, I wish we could skip John. The atmosphere softened slightly afterward. The both of us understood the same thing now without needing to say it aloud first. Last night changed something permanently— professionally and emotionally and neither of us regretted it. I handed Yeji her coffee afterward before answering honestly. “We crossed a line we can’t really uncross anymore”. Yeji nodded once quietly. “…Yeah” I didn’t sense any fear or second thoughts in her voice “…Are you okay with that?” A careful question, an important one to boot. I looked toward her properly afterward “I think I stopped pretending this was professionally salvageable somewhere around the second time you kissed me.” That immediately made her laugh quietly into the rim of the coffee mug she was holding. Then eventually she lowered the mug slightly again “…Good.”
It was a simple answer full of certainty. But certain enough that something in my chest settled instead of tightening afterward. A dangerous development for me honestly. A little while later, I was sitting beside her on the couch while absentmindedly scrolling through my phone when Yeji suddenly shifted closer again. I glanced toward her briefly before realizing she was staring directly at my shoulder with visible concentration.
“…What?”
“You have a lot of tattoos.” as she was looking around me, observing every detail of my body.
“That sounds judgmental.”
“It’s observational.” Yeji tried to sound like me.
“That’s just judgment with better marketing.”
Yeji laughed softly before setting her phone aside completely now. Her fingers lightly brushed against the ink near my shoulder almost absentmindedly. The contact nearly short-circuited my nervous system significantly more than expected. “This one looks older,” she murmured quietly while tracing one of the darker faded lines near my collarbone. “It is.”
“What’s it supposed to be?”
“You say that like you don’t recognize a snake.”
“It looked philosophical.”
“It’s literally just a snake.”
“That somehow feels disappointing.”
I let out a quieter laugh afterward while Yeji continued studying the tattoos scattered across my arms and shoulders with visible curiosity now. The fact she looked this interested in something as mundane as my tattoos was affecting me more emotionally than it reasonably should’ve. Then suddenly her expression shifted slightly “…Wait”. Her eyes narrowed briefly toward my shoulder “…Are those scratch marks?” I blinked once. Then immediately looked down. Ah. Right. Yeji followed the realization almost instantly before covering her mouth while trying unsuccessfully not to laugh.
“Oh my god.”
“That feels slightly accusatory.”
“You look like you survived a wildlife attack.”
“In my defense, somebody became significantly less emotionally stable after midnight.”
“That sounds like deflection.”
“That sounds like accountability avoidance from YOU.”
Yeji immediately folded into laughter again while I rubbed lightly at my forehead in defeat. Watching her laugh this freely after everything she went through emotionally over the past several months was beginning to affect me in ways I was not psychologically prepared for. Then eventually her eyes shifted downward again. “…You’re surprisingly fit.” I looked toward her slowly afterward.
“That sounded more offended than complimentary.”
“I just didn’t expect it.”
“What exactly did you think psychologists looked like physically?”
“I don’t know.” She tried unsuccessfully not to smile again.
“Slightly weaker.”
“That’s devastating.”
“It’s true.”
“I carried you against a wall yesterday.”
“That sentence sounds significantly more threatening in daylight.”
“Fair.”
Yeji laughed softly again before eventually leaning more comfortably against my side afterward. Then quietly
“…I still can’t believe you have this many tattoos.”
I glanced down briefly toward the ink across my arms before shrugging lightly again “Grad school was psychologically difficult.”
“That explains absolutely nothing.”
“It explains enough.”
Another smaller silence settled comfortably afterward. Then eventually I looked toward her again before speaking casually. “If you want, I can always add a portrait tattoo of you somewhere.” Yeji stared at me for exactly two seconds “…What?”
“I’m committed to emotionally terrible decision-making now.”
“That is NOT a normal thing to say after sleeping with someone.”
“I think it would add professionalism to the workplace.”
“You’re insane.”
“Clinically functional.”
“That’s debatable.”
I laughed softly afterward while Yeji shook her head in disbelief beside me, though the faint redness lingering across her face betrayed her significantly. Then eventually she leaned lightly against my shoulder again afterward while still smiling quietly to herself. A little while later, Yeji sat beside me on the couch while the phone rang through speaker mode. John answered first “…Hello children.” I immediately narrowed my eyes “You’re trying to sound emotionally intelligent again” it was too early for John to give me a headache “I’ve evolved psychologically” I could feel the smug from the phone “The hell you have”.
Yeji immediately folded into laughter beside me. Terrible start already. Then somewhere farther away from the call “John stop making things weird,” Jihyo’s voice cut in immediately “I’m helping”. I rubbed lightly at my forehead afterward “…How do nine people emotionally survive you?” That quickly blew a hole in his whole act “That sounded targeted,” John muttered. Yeji was still laughing quietly beside me by the time Jihyo finally spoke again “…Do you two want to meet later?” There it was, a calm tone— too calm. Yeah,” Yeji answered first this time, her voice quieter afterward. “We should probably talk properly”. A brief silence followed “…Okay,” Jihyo answered simply. “Come by later this afternoon”. That somehow made the entire thing feel significantly more serious.
The drive later that afternoon felt strangely calmer than it probably should’ve. Maybe because the difficult part had already happened last night or maybe because neither of us was particularly interested in pretending this was some catastrophic mistake that needed undoing. Yeji sat beside me scrolling idly through her phone while soft music played quietly through the speakers. At one point she looked over briefly “You’re thinking again” I gave her a look at her as the stoplight was still red “That accusation has become emotionally abusive” she instantly retorted “Well you’re making it easy” that was fair. I kept my glance toward her “Nervous?” Yeji considered the question honestly “…A little”. By the time we arrived, John was already waiting near the café entrance wearing sunglasses despite being indoors like somebody trying very hard to look mysterious and failing catastrophically.
“Oh good, the emotional support golden retriever is here” I muttered while stepping out of the car “That’s hurtful”. I waved him off “It wasn’t inaccurate, that’s what matters”. John looked deeply offended for almost three seconds before immediately shaking Yeji’s hand “Congratulations by the way. You killed it yesterday” Yeji smiled softly afterward “…Thanks”. Then John turned toward me dramatically afterward “And you, you look suspiciously emotionally fulfilled.” I immediately pointed toward him “See? THIS is why you can’t pretend to sound like me. You overcommit to the bit emotionally”. Yeji laughed quietly beside me while John looked personally attacked. Before he could retaliate, the café door opened behind him, and there she was. Jihyo stepped outside holding a folder beneath one arm while looking significantly calmer than everybody else present. Which honestly felt threatening somehow.
“Why are you holding paperwork?” I asked immediately. Jihyo glanced down briefly toward the folder “…Preparation.” that answer garnered a horrified expression from me “That answer psychologically upset me, the one with a Master’s Degree in Psychology— that should account for something”. John immediately pointed toward her. “SEE? I TOLD YOU.” Jihyo showed visible confusion for a while “Told me WHAT exactly?” Neither of them answered.
We eventually settled into one of the quieter private rooms farther inside the café afterward. The atmosphere wasn’t hostile. Serious, yes. But not condemning. Yeji sat beside me while Jihyo calmly placed the folder onto the table between us. Then finally “I’m going to ask one question first,” Jihyo said quietly “Was last night emotionally impulsive?” a direct question. I answered first “No”. Yeji nodded immediately afterward beside me “No regrets either”. Jihyo watched both of us silently for a second longer afterward. Assessing. Leader mode, then finally— she exhaled softly through her nose before leaning back slightly in her chair “Okay”.
That was it. no explosion. No dramatic lecture. No accusation… Just okay. Yet that somehow felt heavier than anger would’ve. John, meanwhile, looked between all three of us like somebody trying very hard not to interrupt emotionally important adult conversation with stupidity. Predictably unsuccessful. “So,” he muttered carefully, “are we all pretending this isn’t horrifyingly predictable in hindsight?”
“John,” Jihyo warned immediately without even looking at him. “I’m contributing emotionally.” I didn’t even look at him “You’re making it worse emotionally, for me at least.”
“That’s subjective.”
“It’s really not.” Yeji nearly laughed beside me while I rubbed lightly at my forehead. Strangely enough the fact that this somehow already felt less like damage control and more like some sort of relationship ecosystem maintenance, and it was deeply concerning. Jihyo eventually opened the folder afterward before sliding two documents calmly across the table toward Yeji and me.
NDAs. Of course they were. I stared at them for a few seconds before slowly looking back up at her “You had these prepared already?” Jihyo took a sip from her drink first. Calm. Composed. Terrifying “I prepared them after realizing emotional attachment between managers and idols was probably inevitable eventually.” then simultaneously “That should not be a normal sentence,” I said. “SEE?” John pointed aggressively toward me. “I SAID THAT TOO.” Jihyo ignored both of us professionally. Psychologically she was a horrifying woman honestly. Yeji picked up the NDA quietly beside me afterward while scanning through it briefly. Then paused “…Wait.” even I felt the danger in that word. Jihyo blinked once “What?”
Yeji looked between Jihyo, John, and then back toward the paperwork and I physically watched the realization happen in real time “…Hold on” Yeji narrowed her eyes slightly afterward. “John isn’t just sleeping with one of the TWICE members, is he?” That made Jihyo choked violently on her drink. I folded forward laughing almost instantly while John looked like his soul briefly exited his body. “Oh my GOD,” I wheezed while trying unsuccessfully to recover. “SHE FIGURED IT OUT IMMEDIATELY.” John muttered in genuine horror “That was FAST”. Yeji blinked once slowly afterward while looking increasingly alarmed “Wait seriously?” Jihyo was still coughing and John looked ready to fake his own death. And genuinely I hadn’t laughed this hard in years.
“You people are INSANE,” I finally managed through laughter while wiping briefly at my eyes. “I thought this was like… one emotionally complicated relationship.” John pointed toward me immediately. “In my defense—” I didn’t even let him finish that statement “You have NO defense.” John continued regardless “Actually I have several.” that somehow made it worse. Yeji looked between everyone again like she’d accidentally walked into the middle of an emotionally unstable cult and her reaction was completely valid. Eventually Jihyo recovered enough to speak again “…To be fair,” she muttered weakly afterward, “it didn’t exactly happen the way you think it did.”
“That sentence also should not be normal,” I answered immediately. John leaned back dramatically in his chair afterward. “You adjust eventually.” hearing that is the opposite of reassuring. Yeji was still visibly trying to process the scale of what she apparently just uncovered. Then quietly “…Wait. ALL of them?” John closed his eyes in defeat. Jihyo covered her face. And I completely lost composure again. “I cannot BELIEVE this is a real conversation I’m having right now,” I managed through laughter while John looked spiritually exhausted across the table. “In my defense—”
“You need to stop starting sentences like that,” Jihyo interrupted immediately. “It implies there’s a defense,” I added “You’re dating an entire nationally beloved girl group.” trying to compose myself “That sounds worse when YOU say it.”
“Because I’m emotionally framing it correctly.” Yeji looked genuinely stunned beside me. Not judgmental. Just deeply, profoundly confused “…How does that even work?” John immediately pointed toward Jihyo. “Leadership?” Jihyo answered while covering her eyes briefly “That is NOT the answer, JOHN.”
“It’s a little the answer,” he muttered. Interesting ecosystem honestly also very concerning too. Yeji slowly leaned back in her chair afterward while still processing everything. Then suddenly, another realization. Her eyes shifted slowly toward Jihyo “…You already knew this was probably going to happen with me and Ben?” Silence— even that question caught me off guard. Jihyo stayed calm for exactly three seconds too long “…I suspected emotional overlap was possible.” I answered immediately “That sounded PREPARED”. Jihyo finally sighed softly afterward before resting her chin against one hand “You both spent months emotionally depending on each other during an extremely vulnerable period”.
“Okay but hearing it phrased clinically somehow made it worse,” John muttered. Jihyo ignored him professionally, what a terrifying woman. Then she looked toward me properly afterward “You stabilized her emotionally without isolating her from herself”. The room quieted slightly after that, less comedic now. More honest. “She didn’t become dependent on you,” Jihyo continued calmly “She became herself again around you”. That sentence hit harder than expected. Because somewhere deep down, I think part of me was still worried about that exact thing. Yeji looked toward me quietly afterward too. Warmly. Then Jihyo continued like she hadn’t just emotionally sniped me across the table.
“So no,” she finished calmly. “I wasn’t surprised this crossed into something personal eventually”. I leaned back slowly afterward while staring at the ceiling briefly “…That should not be an emotionally healthy intuition.” John pointed immediately. “SEE?”
“Stop validating each other,” Jihyo muttered tiredly. “No,” me and John answered instantly. Yeji laughed quietly beside me before eventually setting the NDA back onto the table again. Then softly “…I want Ben to officially manage ITZY.” The room stilled again afterward.
Yeji continued carefully. “I know what happened between us changes things.” She glanced briefly toward me first before continuing. “But I also know the others are struggling too.” that was Yeji’s leader instinct, and she was right on the bat. Even now. “I don’t want to go back to pretending everybody’s fine when they’re clearly not.” That quieted the table completely afterward. “You realize what that probably means long term, right?” Jihyo asked gently. Yeji nodded once slowly “…Yeah.” No hesitation. Then finally she glanced sideways toward me again before adding “And honestly? I already accepted that this might happen naturally with the others too eventually.”
I blinked once slowly “…I’m sorry WHAT?” Yeji blinked once afterward like she didn’t fully understand why that answer shocked me so much. “What?”
“You accepted that possibility WAY too calmly.”
“Because I already thought about it.”
“That sentence emotionally terrified me.” John immediately pointed toward Yeji across the table “See? That’s exactly how this starts.”
“You are the LAST person qualified to say that,” I answered instantly.
“Fair.”
A disturbingly self-aware ecosystem. Yeji looked toward me quietly afterward before speaking again “I’m not saying it has to happen.” She paused briefly. “I’m saying… I know how you are.” Dangerous statement especially because she sounded completely sincere. “You care deeply,” she continued softly. “And they’re important to me too.” Even now, she wasn’t viewing this possessively, true mark of a real leader. She was thinking about everybody else first too. I leaned back slowly afterward while rubbing lightly at my jaw “…You’re all emotionally abnormal.”
“That’s rich coming from you,” John muttered.
“I’m at least aware I’m psychologically concerning.”
“That somehow doesn’t help.”
Jihyo finally sighed softly before reaching for another document inside the folder. The fact she had MORE paperwork ready nearly made me leave on principle alone. “There’s also the updated management transfer proposal,” she said calmly. I stared at her “…You already prepared THAT too?” Jihyo blinked once. “You think slowly for someone with a Master’s Degree in Psychology.” I was beat from all angles, “I take it back. You’re the scariest person here.”
“Correct,” John answered immediately.
Yeji looked visibly relieved afterward though as Jihyo slid the paperwork toward us. “The company already trusts your judgment after the solo debut,” Jihyo continued calmly. “Officially, the recommendation is expanded emotional and schedule management support for ITZY as a whole.” Emotionally dangerous wording. Professionally brilliant wording too. I skimmed briefly through the proposal afterward before immediately stopping at one section “This compensation package is ridiculous.” John snorted instantly “THAT’S the part bothering you?”
Yeji leaned slightly closer beside me afterward while trying to peek at the paperwork. “Wait, how much is—”
“It’s not important.”
“That means it’s horrifying,” John answered immediately. I set the paperwork back onto the table afterward. “Honestly, I don’t need the money.” The room quieted slightly. “That is NOT a normal sentence,” Jihyo said. “See?” John pointed aggressively toward me. “THIS is what I’ve been trying to explain.” I ignored him “What I DO need,” I continued calmly, “is a company-issued vehicle.” That finally shifted the atmosphere slightly back toward seriousness. “Security concerns?” Jihyo asked immediately. “Exactly.” I nodded once. “Using my personal car long-term around idol schedules is risky. You of all people know how some of those nutjob fans eventually identify patterns.” The room quieted again afterward. Because unfortunately? That concern was realistic.
“I’d rather not have somebody tracing ITZY’s movements through my license plate eventually.” Yeji looked toward me quietly after that. Warmly. Jihyo nodded slowly afterward. “That’s fair. We can arrange that.” Then Yeji tilted her head slightly. “Hold on, Ben.” she looked toward me carefully afterward. “Looking back your car actually IS expensive if you think it would be that easy to trace back, isn’t it?” I immediately narrowed my eyes toward John before he even opened his mouth. “You stay out of this.”
“I didn’t even SAY anything yet.”
“You looked financially enthusiastic.”
“That’s profiling.”
Yeji laughed quietly beside me afterward. “But seriously,” she continued, “the brand wasn’t Korean. I didn’t recognize it.” John immediately folded his arms. “Oh it’s expensive-expensive.” This bloody traitor. “It’s custom-built too,” he added helpfully. “John” that didn’t make him stop. “What?” John looked immediately defensive. “What? I’m contributing context.”
“You’re contributing financial slander.”
“That thing probably costs more than my apartment.”
“That’s statistically possible.”
Silence. Then immediately “What?” Yeji stared at me now. Jihyo slowly lowered her drink afterward. And honestly? I could physically feel this conversation becoming more psychologically irritating by the second. “It’s just a car.”
“That is ABSOLUTELY not how rich people say ‘just a car,’” John answered immediately. Yeji narrowed her eyes slightly afterward. “Are you actually rich-rich?” I immediately leaned back in my chair. “We are not doing this conversation.”
“That means yes,” Yeji answered immediately. “Psychologically invasive behavior.” John added helpfully “Deflection”. I turned back at him “You traitorous asshole.” Jihyo looked mildly entertained now too. Concerning development. Then eventually Yeji glanced between me and John again “…Okay but how rich are we talking exactly?” I pointed toward John immediately “If he answers this incorrectly, I’m revoking his friendship privileges.”
“You can’t revoke those.”
“Watch me.”
John looked entirely too entertained now. “Well…” He leaned back slightly afterward. “You know how Mina is terrifyingly wealthy, right?” Yeji blinked once slowly. “How wealthy are we talking?” John and Jihyo exchanged a look first. That made the answer significantly worse already. Then eventually John sighed dramatically “Mina could probably buy JYPE herself if she genuinely wanted to.” Silence. Yeji stared. I rubbed lightly at my forehead. And somehow the fact nobody denied it probably answered enough already. “That should not be normal,” I muttered. “You’re not allowed to say that anymore,” John answered immediately.
Then Yeji slowly looked back toward me “Okay then, what about YOU?” Oh no. Absolutely not. I immediately stood up slightly from my chair “I’m leaving.” John answered instantly. “You signed paperwork already, you legally can’t.” Jihyo finally rubbed lightly at her temple afterward. “Sit down, Ben.” This was emotional abuse, but I sat back down anyway. “Theoretically” John began carefully while visibly trying not to laugh already, “if Ben liquidated and pooled most of his CURRENT resources together—”
“John.”
“—he could probably buy enough shares to own majority control of JYPE. Something around 80 to 85% of the shares. I did the math already.” The silence was broken by singular “…What.” from Yeji who looked genuinely horrified now. I immediately pointed toward John again. “This is why rich people don’t tell people things.”
“That wasn’t even the weird part.”
“There’s a WEIRDER PART?”
John looked deeply entertained now. “He gets richer accidentally.”
“That is not a real sentence,” Jihyo muttered.
“It IS,” John continued. “I swear this man wakes up wealthier every six months without trying.”
“That sounds villainous,” Yeji answered immediately.
“I invest intelligently,” I defended calmly.
“You bought a company once because you were annoyed at their customer service.”
“That was strategically justified.”
“That was psychotic.”
Jihyo covered her face briefly afterward while Yeji stared at me like she was reassessing every interaction we’d ever had. Then eventually Yeji looked toward me again. Much quieter this time “…You genuinely didn’t need this job financially, did you?” The room softened slightly afterward. I answered honestly “No.” Yeji watched me carefully afterward “Then why take it?” Honestly, answering that felt easier now than it probably ever had before “Because of the people mattered” a simple answer yet a true one too. The room stayed quiet afterward for a second longer than before.
“That was disgustingly sincere.” John immediately ruined the emotional atmosphere “Oh shut up.”
“No seriously that sounded emotionally cinematic.”
“Coming from the man who practiced confession lines in front of a mirror for three hours.”
Silence. Complete silence “YOU DID WHAT?” Yeji nearly folded forward laughing. John looked like his soul physically left his body. “You PROMISED never to bring that up again.”
“Hey you made fun of my sincerity first, best buddy.”
“That was DIFFERENT.”
“It absolutely was not.” Jihyo was laughing hard enough now that she physically had to lower her head into one hand while Yeji looked seconds away from crying from laughter beside me. Watching John die internally across the table healed something inside me spiritually. “It gets WORSE,” I continued calmly while John looked ready to leap across the table and strangle me.
“BEN.”
“He kept rejecting his own confession lines out loud because he thought he sounded manipulative.”
Yeji actually covered her face laughing now “No way.” John was red all over “I was trying to sound sincere!” I couldn’t hold a straight face anymore, “You sounded like somebody negotiating a hostage release emotionally.” Jihyo was openly crying laughing now while John looked deeply betrayed by everyone present. Then suddenly Yeji glanced sideways toward me again. The from the look of her terrified something in me. “…Benjie.”
Oh hell no. I immediately narrowed my eyes toward her “Nope.” Yeji looked entirely too pleased with herself now “Benjie.” John folded forward instantly laughing. “OH that’s sticking permanently.” My face was buried deep in my hand “I will leave.” John didn’t waste the chance to clap back “Remember, you legally can’t” John answered immediately. This traitorous golden retriever of a man. Yeji looked openly delighted now too— I guess I’ll let this slide for now. “…You look like a Benjie.” never mind, I take that back. “That sentence psychologically harmed me, Yeji.”
Jihyo finally wiped briefly beneath one eye afterward while still recovering from laughter. And somewhere between emotional collapse, NDAs, psychological intervention, accidental relationship ecosystems, billionaire allegations and John’s public humiliation. The atmosphere at the table stopped feeling heavy entirely. It just felt alive. Which might’ve been the healthiest thing about all of this.
By the time the four of us finally left the café, the sun had already started dipping lower across Seoul’s skyline. The conversation somehow never fully recovered afterward. Not professionally at least. John was still emotionally damaged from the mirror-confession incident. Jihyo looked one inconvenience away from revoking everybody’s speaking privileges permanently. And Yeji still looked entirely too pleased with herself every time she quietly muttered “Benjie”. This has got to be a psychological war crime somewhere.
John eventually stopped near his car first before trying say another smug thing I cut him off “Say one more thing and they’ll never find your body” I told him gave him a death glare. But this was cut short from what I could tell was Yeji muttering out her new favorite word “…Benjie.” I closed my eyes slowly “Yeji, I’ll admit I’m more than happy with you calling me that. But not in front of John, please?” this warranted more hysterical laughter from John. Yeji looked genuinely delighted beside me while John nearly collapsed laughing against his car. Jihyo looked exhausted. Reasonable reaction honestly. Then eventually she glanced toward both of us properly afterward. And for the first time since this entire conversation started— her expression softened fully. “…Take care of each other,” Jihyo said quietly. Those were simple words. But heavy enough that neither Yeji nor I joked afterward. “We will,” Yeji answered softly beside me. The certainty in her voice affected me more than expected.
A few minutes later, the city lights blurred quietly outside the windows while I drove us back through the slower evening traffic. This time neither of us spoke much. Not because things were awkward. Because they weren’t anymore. Yeji eventually leaned slightly closer against my shoulder while absentmindedly scrolling through messages on her phone again. Then suddenly “Ryujin wants to meet you properly.” Well, there was the beginning of my downfall “What does ‘properly’ mean in this context?”
“She added a shark emoji.”
“That clarified absolutely nothing.”
“It probably shouldn’t.” I sighed softly afterward while Yeji laughed quietly beside me again. For the first time in a very long time— the future no longer sounded exhausting anymore.
A/N: This story is part of the Underpaid & Overloved series that originally belongs to @electro469. I will be updating this story along with the planned Season 2 of Underpaid & Overloved as well since Electro has given me permission to continue the story
A Continuation From A Trip With My Stepsister & Her Friends. Hope You All Liked It.
The scent of coffee, rich and bitter, was the first thing that pierced the haze of your deep, satiated sleep. The second was the light—not the silvery moonlight of the night before, but the bold, golden glare of a Maldives morning slicing through the gaps in the bamboo blinds. You lay still for a long moment, memories of the previous night washing over you in a warm, disbelieving tide. Karina’s whispered confession. Ryujin’s vulnerable plea. The feeling of being so deeply, completely wanted. It felt like a dream, yet the ache in your muscles and the faint, lingering scent of sex and sweat on the sheets confirmed its stunning reality.
You were alone in the vast bed. The space beside you, where Karina had eventually fallen asleep curled into your side, was cool to the touch. Ryujin’s side, where she’d finally settled after watching over you both for what felt like hours, was similarly empty. A thread of anxiety, thin and cold, tightened in your chest. Had it been too much? Had the morning’s light brought regret?
Pushing yourself up, you winced at the stiffness. You found your discarded shorts and t-shirt on the floor and pulled them on, the soft cotton feeling alien against your skin after so much naked intimacy. The living area of the bungalow was quiet, awash in sunlight. The low table was cleared of last night’s bottles, the cushions neatly arranged. It was as if the passionate chaos of the Truth or Dare game had never happened.
Then you heard it. The rapid, soft tap-tap-tap of fingers on a laptop keyboard. You followed the sound to the small, modern kitchenette that adjoined the living space.
Su-A was there, perched on a stool at the breakfast bar, her back to you. She was already dressed for the day in sleek, charcoal-grey athleisure—a fitted zip-up jacket and matching leggings that showcased her toned figure. Her dark hair was pulled into a severe, high ponytail. Her laptop was open, a spreadsheet glowing on the screen, and a half-empty mug of black coffee sat steaming beside it. She was engrossed, frowning slightly at something on the display.
You watched her for a second. This was a different Su-A from the provocative orchestrator of last night. This was the Su-A who had a life, a career, responsibilities waiting back home. The transition was jarring.
“Noona?” you said, your voice raspy from sleep.
She didn’t jump, just finished typing a line before swiveling on the stool to face you. Her expression was focused, but it softened around the edges when she saw you. “Morning, sleepyhead. Or should I say, afternoon?” She glanced at a delicate silver watch on her wrist. “It’s almost eleven.”
“Eleven?” You ran a hand through your hair. “Why didn’t anyone wake me?”
“You looked like you needed the sleep,” she said, a ghost of her trademark teasing smile playing on her lips. “It was a… big night.” She turned back to her laptop, her fingers resuming their tapping. “Ryujin and Karina went for a walk along the waterline about an hour ago. Said they needed some air.”
“Oh.” You shifted your weight, feeling suddenly awkward. “Are you… working?”
“Mhm. Just tying up a few loose ends for a client. Crisis never takes a vacation, apparently.” She sighed, not looking up. “I told them I was offline for three days, but of course, the world doesn’t stop.” Her tone was matter-of-fact, but you caught the faint strain of irritation beneath it.
You glanced at the kitchen counter. Aside from her coffee mug, there was nothing. No plate, no crumbs, no evidence of food. “Did you eat breakfast?”
“Hmm? Oh. No. Not hungry. Coffee’s enough.” She took a deliberate sip, her eyes never leaving the screen.
A familiar protectiveness stirred in you. It was an old habit, born from years of sharing a home. When Su-A got like this—hyper-focused, dismissive of her own needs—you’d often step in. It was a small thing, a sibling thing. It felt grounding, normal, amidst the surreal new landscape of your relationships.
“You should eat something,” you said, moving into the kitchenette. You opened the sleek stainless-steel refrigerator. The resort had stocked it well: eggs, butter, a packet of bacon, cheese, some vegetables, a loaf of crusty bread. “It’ll help you think.”
Su-A finally looked away from her laptop, raising an eyebrow at you. “Since when did you become my nutritionist?”
“Since forever,” you replied, pulling out the eggs and bacon. “Scrambled? With cheese?”
She watched you for a long moment, the keyboard clicks ceasing. Her gaze was assessing, unreadable. Then, that soft smile returned, more genuine this time. “Fine. Chef away. But make it quick. I have a video call in forty-five minutes.”
You got to work. The rhythmic, mundane actions were a balm—cracking eggs into a bowl, whisking them with a fork, the sizzle of butter hitting the pan. The rich, savory smell of frying bacon soon joined the aroma of coffee, filling the small space with a sense of domesticity. You found a block of cheddar and grated a generous pile into the eggs.
“So,” Su-A said, her voice casual. She’d closed her laptop lid, giving you her full attention. She swiveled the stool to face you, resting her elbows on the breakfast bar. “How are you feeling?”
The question was loaded. You kept your eyes on the pan, scrambling the eggs gently. “Good. Weird. Good-weird.”
“Good-weird is the best kind of weird,” she mused. “No regrets, then?”
You shook your head, a firm, decisive motion. “No. None.” You dared a glance at her. “You?”
She laughed, a light, airy sound. “Me? I got exactly what I wanted. A front-row seat to the culmination of… let’s call it a long-term project.” Her eyes sparkled with mischief, but there was a warmth there too, a satisfaction that went beyond mere voyeurism. “They’re crazy about you, you know. Like, ‘planning-the-wedding-in-their-heads-already’ crazy. It’s adorable.”
Your face grew warm. You focused on plating the food. You spooned the fluffy, cheesy eggs onto a plate, added several strips of crispy bacon, and toasted two slices of the bread quickly in the pan. You slid the plate in front of her, along with a fresh set of cutlery.
“Eat.”
She looked down at the plate, then back up at you. For a split second, her confident mask slipped, revealing something quieter, more touched. “You didn’t have to do this.”
“I know,” you said simply, leaning against the opposite counter. “Eat before it gets cold.”
She picked up her fork and took a bite. Her eyes fluttered closed for a second. “Oh, wow. Okay. You’ve been holding out on me. This is fantastic.”
The simple praise made you smile. You busied yourself making another plate for yourself, the comfortable silence stretching between you, filled only with the sounds of eating and the distant cry of seabirds.
The tranquility was shattered by the swoosh of the main bungalow door sliding open.
“I’m telling you, the water is literally turquoise. It’s not a color that should exist in nature!” Ryujin’s raspy, energetic voice preceded her into the room.
“It was very pretty,” came Karina’s softer, agreeable reply.
They walked into the living area, both glowing from their walk. Ryujin was in her element: black bike shorts, a loose, faded band t-shirt, her hair in a messy bun with strands stuck to her damp neck. Karina wore a simple, pale yellow sundress that flowed around her calves, her hair down and slightly windswept. They both stopped short when they saw the two of you in the kitchenette.
Their eyes went to Su-A, then to you, then to the food. The dynamic in the room shifted palpably. Last night’s intimacy hung in the air, a silent, shared secret. Karina’s cheeks immediately dusted pink. Ryujin’s sharp eyes darted from Su-A’s plate to your face, a slow, knowing grin spreading across her features.
“Well, well,” Ryujin drawled, strolling over. “Someone’s being domestic. Smells amazing in here.” She leaned her hip against the breakfast bar, right next to Su-A, and peered at her plate. “You made her breakfast? How come I never got breakfast in bed?”
“You were too busy trying to smother me in my sleep,” you retorted, falling easily into the familiar, teasing rhythm with her. It felt natural, but now it was underscored with a new layer of fondness.
Ryujin barked a laugh. “Fair.”
Karina approached more slowly, her hands clasped in front of her. She gave you a shy, radiant smile that made your stomach flip. “Good morning,” she said, her voice like honey.
“Morning, Karina-noona,” you replied, your own voice softening.
Her smile widened at the honorific, a blush deepening on her cheeks. Her gaze was so openly affectionate it was almost overwhelming.
“We’re starving,” Ryujin announced, breaking the moment. She looked at you with exaggerated puppy-dog eyes. “Any chance the master chef is taking orders? I’d kill for some of those cheesy eggs.”
“Me too,” Karina added softly, her eyes still on you. “Please?”
Su-A, halfway through her meal, waved her fork. “Don’t look at me. I’m just a grateful client. He’s in charge.”
The sense of normalcy was an illusion, but a comforting one. You were just making breakfast for your stepsister and her friends. The fact that two of those friends had, less than twelve hours ago, been wrapped around you in a tangle of limbs and profound declarations, was a truth you quietly held close.
“Coming right up,” you said, turning back to the stove. You pulled out more eggs, more bacon. The kitchenette became a hub of quiet activity. You cooked; Ryujin hopped up to sit on the counter next to the stove, swinging her legs and stealing a strip of bacon straight from the pan with a yelp when it burned her fingers. Karina, ever helpful, found plates and set the breakfast bar with them, pouring glasses of orange juice from the fridge. Su-A finished her food and reopened her laptop, but she wasn’t really working anymore. She was watching the three of you, a contented, almost maternal smile on her face.
It was… nice. Peaceful. The sexual tension of the past days had transmuted into something else—a warm, settled intimacy. There were glances, of course. The way Karina’s hand brushed yours when she took a plate. The way Ryujin’s foot nudged your leg playfully as she sat on the counter. But they were gentle, affirming touches. Connective tissue.
You served them both heaping plates. Ryujin dug in with her characteristic gusto, barely pausing to breathe between bites. “Oh my god,” she moaned around a mouthful. “This is fucking heavenly. I’m keeping you.”
Karina ate more delicately, but her enjoyment was evident in every small, pleased hum. “It’s really delicious,” she said, looking at you. “Thank you.”
“See?” Su-A said, not looking up from her screen. “I told you he was a keeper. Practical skills.”
“You were right, unnie,” Karina said, her voice sincere. “About everything.”
Su-A finally looked up, meeting Karina’s gaze. A silent communication passed between them, full of understanding and something that looked like gratitude. “I usually am,” Su-A said lightly, but the warmth in her eyes was unmistakable.
You made your own plate and joined them, pulling up a stool. For a while, the only sounds were the clink of cutlery and the contented sighs of a good meal. The sun streamed in, highlighting the dust motes dancing in the air. The ocean whispered against the bungalow stilts below.
“So,” Ryujin said eventually, pushing her clean plate away with a satisfied sigh. “What’s the agenda for our last day in paradise? We fly out tomorrow afternoon, right?”
Su-A nodded, closing her laptop for good. “Yeah. Check-out is at eleven, flight is at four. So today’s our last full day.”
A pang shot through you. The trip had been a whirlwind, a bubble outside of reality. The thought of it ending, of returning to the mundane world of separate homes and routines, was suddenly depressing.
“We should do something chill,” Karina suggested. “My feet are still a little sore from all the snorkeling yesterday.”
“Aww, poor baby,” Ryujin teased, nudging her shoulder. “How about we just… be? Lounge on the deck. Read. Swim right off the back. No schedule.”
“That sounds perfect,” you agreed. The idea of a lazy, sun-drenched day with the three of them, with no games, no dares, just coexistence, was incredibly appealing.
Su-A checked her watch again. “I’ve got that video call now. I’ll be holed up in my room for an hour or so. You three… ‘be’ without me.” She stood, collecting her laptop and mug. She paused behind your stool, and for a second, her hand came to rest on your shoulder, giving it a firm, brief squeeze. It was a gesture so rare from her it felt monumental. “Good job on the eggs, dongsaeng.”
Then she was gone, slipping into her bedroom and closing the door with a soft click.
The three of you were left in the sunlit quiet. The dynamic shifted again, more subtly this time. It was just you, Ryujin, and Karina. The memory of the night was a living thing in the space between you.
Karina was the first to move. She stood and began quietly clearing the plates. You and Ryujin jumped up to help. The three of you moved around the small kitchenette in a wordless, efficient dance—rinsing, loading the dishwasher, wiping counters. It felt eerily natural, like you’d been doing this for years.
When the kitchen was clean, Ryujin stretched her arms over her head, her t-shirt riding up to expose a strip of her taut, tan stomach. “So. Deck time?”
You all migrated to the massive wooden deck that extended over the lagoon. The sun was high and hot, but a constant, gentle breeze made it bearable. Ryujin immediately claimed one of the wide, padded sun loungers, lying flat on her stomach and pulling out her phone. Karina chose the swinging daybed, curling up on it with a contented sigh and the book she’d brought on the trip. You stood at the railing for a moment, looking out at the impossible gradient of blues.
This was it. The calm after the storm. The comfortable silence of people who have said the big things and now just get to be.
You eventually took the sun lounger next to Ryujin. The heat seeped into your bones, and the exhaustion from the night’s activities and the early wake-up began to pull you toward a doze. The sounds were a lullaby: the lap of water, the distant putter of a boat, the turn of Karina’s book page, the tap of Ryujin’s thumbs on her phone screen.
“Hey,” Ryujin said after a long while, her voice quiet. She wasn’t looking at you; she was still on her phone.
“Hmm?”
“Last night… with the baby and marriage talk.” She paused. “That wasn’t just the heat of the moment for her, you know. Or for me.”
You opened your eyes, turning your head to look at her. Her profile was sharp against the bright sky, her expression uncharacteristically serious.
“I know,” you said, just as quietly.
“It’s a lot to put on you,” she continued, finally setting her phone down on the lounger and rolling onto her side to face you. Her eyes searched yours. “We don’t… we don’t expect you to have all the answers right now. Hell, I don’t have all the answers. This is… new. For all of us.”
From the daybed, Karina’s page-turning had stopped. You knew she was listening.
“It is a lot,” you admitted, your voice low. “But it’s a lot I want. More than I ever let myself dream of wanting.”
Ryujin’s serious expression melted into a soft, relieved smile. It transformed her face, making her look younger, more vulnerable. “Good.” She reached over the gap between the loungers and found your hand, lacing her fingers through yours. Her grip was strong, sure. “Then we’ll figure it out. The three of us. And the four of us, including your nosy-ass stepsister in there.”
You chuckled, squeezing her hand back. “She’s part of the package.”
“Damn right I am,” Su-A’s voice called from the doorway. She stepped out onto the deck, having changed into a simple black tank top and shorts, her video call evidently over. She looked relaxed, the work-stress gone from her posture. She surveyed the scene—you and Ryujin holding hands, Karina watching from the daybed with a soft smile—and her own smile was one of deep contentment. “Don’t think you’re getting rid of me. I’m the architect of this masterpiece. I demand lifetime visitation rights.”
“You’ve got them,” Karina said, her voice firm and happy.
Su-A grabbed a fourth lounger and dragged it over, creating a loose circle. She lay down, putting on a pair of oversized sunglasses. “So,” she said, tilting her face to the sun. “What’s the consensus? Are we officially a weird, modern, polyamorous… thing?”
The question hung in the air. It was the first time anyone had tried to put a label on it.
Ryujin was the one who answered, her raspy voice clear and decisive. “We’re a us. That’s all the label I need.”
“I like that,” Karina murmured.
“Us,” you repeated, testing the word. It felt right. It felt huge. It felt like home.
The afternoon melted away in a haze of sun and quiet conversation. You talked about nothing important—movies you wanted to see, a restaurant Ryujin insisted you all try back in Seoul, Su-A’s annoying client. The heavy conversations of the future were gently set aside, acknowledged but not pressed. There would be time for logistics, for navigating the real world. For now, there was just this: the four of you, a unit, basking in the afterglow of a seismic shift.
As the sun began its slow descent, painting the sky in streaks of orange and purple, a resort staff member arrived with a small, wheeled cart. “Complimentary sunset drinks and canapés,” he announced with a smile, setting out a pitcher of something fruity and non-alcoholic, glasses, and several plates of elegant little bites.
It was the perfect cue. You all sat up, gathering around the low table on the deck. You poured drinks. The mood was festive, tinged with the sweet melancholy of a journey ending.
“A toast,” Su-A said, raising her glass. Her sunglasses were off now, and her eyes shone. “To my brilliant, meddlesome plan.”
“To your brilliant, meddlesome plan,” Ryujin echoed, clinking her glass against Su-A’s.
“To this trip,” Karina added, her gaze sweeping over all of you.
You raised your glass. Words failed you for a moment. So much had happened. “To… new beginnings,” you finally said. “And to ‘us’.”
“To us,” they all chorused, and the clink of glasses was a bright, cheerful sound against the backdrop of the darkening sea.
You drank. The beverage was cool and sweet. You ate the delicate food, the flavors bursting on your tongue. The conversation flowed easily, laughter coming more frequently now. The anxiety about the return trip faded, replaced by a steady, thrilling certainty. Whatever came next, you wouldn’t be facing it alone.
Ryujin told a story about a childhood mishap involving a bicycle and a fish market, her animated gestures making Karina laugh so hard she snorted, which made everyone else laugh even harder. Su-A shared a surprisingly funny anecdote about her corporate job. You listened, your heart feeling impossibly full.
This, you realized, was the true destination of the trip. Not just the physical intimacy, but this: the easy camaraderie, the shared silence, the collective laughter. The foundation of something real.
The sky deepened to a velvet blue, the first stars pricking through. The resort lights twinkled on across the water. Your last night in the Maldives was here.
Su-A stretched, a contented groan leaving her lips. “I’m going to go pack,” she said. “Get a head start on the misery.”
“I should, too,” Karina said, though she made no move to get up from the daybed, where she was now leaning against your side, your arm around her shoulders.
“Ugh, don’t remind me,” Ryujin grumbled, finishing the last of the juice in the pitcher. She stood up, though, and started collecting the empty plates and glasses onto the cart. “Come on, lazybones. Let’s at least get the room in some kind of order. I don’t want to be scrambling tomorrow.”
Karina sighed but acquiesced, untangling herself from you with obvious reluctance. “Okay.”
You all moved back inside, turning on the soft interior lights. The bungalow, which had felt like a secret, passionate playground, now just felt like a very nice hotel room that needed to be vacated. Su-A disappeared into her room. Ryujin and Karina headed toward yours.
You stood in the living area for a moment, watching them go. Karina glanced back over her shoulder, giving you that shy, heart-stopping smile once more before disappearing into the bedroom.
Ryujin, however, stopped in the doorway. She turned, her expression thoughtful in the low light. “Hey,” she said. “Before we get bogged down in packing… there’s one last thing I want to do here. One last memory to make.”
Ryujin’s words hung in the doorway, charged with a quiet intensity that cut through the mundane task of packing. Her eyes, usually so sharp and playful, held a softer, more desperate edge. The mention of a “last memory” wasn’t a suggestion for another game. It was a need.
“What did you have in mind?” you asked, your voice lower than you intended.
She didn’t answer with words. She simply stepped back into the living area, letting the bedroom door swing shut behind her. The soft light from the table lamp painted her face in warm gold and deep shadow. She walked toward you, each step slow and deliberate on the polished wooden floor. When she was close enough that you could smell the salt and sunscreen still on her skin, she stopped.
“Last night was… everything,” she began, her raspy voice barely above a whisper. “But it was also frantic. Hungry. It was about catching up for lost time.” She reached out, her fingers tracing the line of your jaw, a touch so tender it made your breath stutter. “I haven’t had nearly enough of just… this. Of taking my time with you.”
From the bedroom, you heard the soft shuffle of feet. Karina appeared in the doorway, having changed into a simple, thin cotton sleep shirt that fell to her mid-thigh. She leaned against the frame, watching, her expression one of gentle understanding.
“I can’t sleep,” Ryujin continued, her thumb brushing your lower lip. “My mind won’t shut off. All I can think about is your mouth. The way you taste. The sounds you make. The weight of you on top of me, inside me.” Her confession was blunt, stripped of her usual teasing armor. It was raw. “I’ve been thinking about fucking you since I was dumb enough to think you were just Su-A’s cute little brother. And now that I’ve had you, the thought of leaving this place without… without savoring you… it feels wrong.”
Your heart was a pounding drum in your chest. “Ryujin-noona…”
“Shh,” she murmured, shifting her hand to cradle the back of your neck. “Just let me have this. Let us have this.”
She closed the final distance, her lips meeting yours. It wasn’t the aggressive, claiming kiss from the night before. This was slow. Painfully slow. A soft press, a retreat, another press that lingered, her mouth moving against yours with a sensual patience that melted your bones. Her tongue traced the seam of your lips, asking, not demanding. You opened for her, and the kiss deepened into something lush and explorative. You could taste the fading sweetness of the sunset drink on her tongue, the unique, warm flavor that was just her.
Her hands slid down your back, pulling your body flush against hers. Through your thin t-shirt and her band tee, you could feel the firm planes of her stomach, the rapid beat of her heart. One of her hands slipped under the hem of your shirt, her palm scorching against the skin of your lower back. The touch drew a low groan from you, swallowed by her mouth.
A soft clearing of a throat made you both break the kiss, but only just. Your foreheads rested together as you turned your heads.
Su-A stood at the entrance to her room, having changed into a silky, emerald green camisole and shorts set. She wasn’t smiling her usual catlike grin. Her expression was one of deep, rapt attention. “Don’t stop on my account,” she said, her voice a husky murmur. She leaned against her doorframe, mirroring Karina’s pose across the room. “This is the memory she’s talking about. I want in.”
Karina, emboldened by Su-A’s presence, pushed off from her doorway and walked toward you. She came to stand beside Ryujin, her gaze soft and full of wanting. “Me too,” she said simply.
Ryujin pulled back just enough to look at Karina, then at Su-A. A slow, genuine smile spread across her kiss-swollen lips. “Good.” She looked back at you, her eyes dancing. “Then let’s do this properly. No dares. No games. Just us. And I want to take my fucking time.”
She took a half-step back, her hands moving to the hem of her loose band t-shirt. Her eyes locked on yours as she began to pull it up, revealing the taut, tan skin of her stomach inch by inch. The muscles in her abdomen flexed subtly. The lamp light caught the smooth curve of her waist, the defined lines leading down to the waistband of her bike shorts. She pulled the shirt over her head and let it drop to the floor with a whisper of fabric.
She stood before you in just her black sports bra and the tight bike shorts. Her arms, lean and defined, were on full display. The sports bra hugged her small, pert breasts, the cut highlighting the elegant line of her collarbones. She was all compact strength and graceful lines, a tomboyish elegance that was utterly captivating.
“Your turn,” she said, her gaze dipping to your t-shirt.
Your fingers felt clumsy, but you grasped the hem of your shirt and pulled it off, tossing it aside. The cooler air of the bungalow kissed your skin, raising goosebumps.
Ryujin’s eyes darkened as she looked at you. “So good,” she breathed. She stepped close again, but this time her hands went to your shoulders, then slid down your arms, feeling the muscle there. Her touch was worshipful, mapping you. “I’ve wanted to look my fill for so long.”
As her hands explored your chest and stomach, Karina moved. She came up behind you, her body pressing against your back. You felt the soft, heavy weight of her breasts against your shoulder blades, the whisper of her cotton sleep shirt. Her arms slid around your waist, her hands splaying over your abdomen, her chin resting on your shoulder. Her breath was warm against your neck.
“You’re so warm,” she murmured, nuzzling into the space between your neck and shoulder. Her lips brushed your skin, a ghost of a kiss.
Su-A watched for another moment, then pushed off the doorframe. She didn’t speak as she approached, her movements fluid and confident. She stopped in front of you, her eyes studying the tableau—Ryujin before you, Karina behind you. A faint, approving smile touched her lips. Then her hands came up to the thin straps of her camisole. She pushed them off her shoulders, letting the silky green fabric slither down her body to pool at her feet. She stood in just a matching set of emerald green lace panties, her figure toned and graceful in the soft light.
“If we’re savoring,” Su-A said, her voice a low purr, “then we’re all in.”
The sight of the three of them, in various states of undress, focused entirely on you, was almost too much to process. It was a dizzying, breathtaking form of worship.
Ryujin’s attention was pulled to Su-A for a second, a smirk playing on her lips. “Always have to make an entrance, unnie.”
“Always,” Su-A agreed, her eyes gleaming.
Ryujin’s focus returned to you. Her fingers found the button of your shorts, popping it open with a deft flick. The zipper rasped down. “These are in the way,” she said, her voice thick.
Karina’s hands at your waist helped, pushing the fabric over your hips. Together, they eased your shorts and boxers down your legs until you could step out of them. You were naked now, exposed to their combined gaze. The air felt electric on your skin.
Ryujin didn’t immediately touch you again. She just looked, her eyes traveling down your body with a heated appreciation that made your skin flush. “Perfect,” she whispered.
Then she sank to her knees.
The world narrowed to the sight of Ryujin on her knees before you, her head level with your hips. Her hands settled on your thighs, her thumbs rubbing slow circles on the sensitive inner skin. She looked up at you, her eyes huge and dark. “I’ve dreamed about this view,” she admitted, her voice rough.
Karina, still holding you from behind, tightened her arms around you. One of her hands drifted lower, her fingers trailing through the hair at the base of your stomach, but going no further. She was content to hold, to be connected, while Ryujin took the lead.
Su-A came to stand beside Ryujin, looking down at her friend with a mix of affection and arousal. She reached out and ran her fingers through Ryujin’s dark hair, pushing it back from her forehead. “Show him how much you missed him,” Su-A murmured, her words a clear encouragement.
Ryujin didn’t need more invitation. She leaned forward, but instead of taking you in her mouth, she pressed her face against your stomach, kissing the skin just above your navel. Her lips were soft, warm. She trailed kisses lower, along the line of hair, her breath fanning over you. Her hands slid to your ass, gripping firmly, pulling you just a fraction closer.
“You have no idea,” she whispered against your skin, her words a hot vibration. “The nights I lay awake, imagining your cock in my mouth. Wondering how you’d taste. How you’d feel on my tongue.” She kissed the base of your shaft, a slow, open-mouthed press that made your legs tremble. “The reality is so much fucking better.”
Finally, her tongue swept out, a broad, wet stroke from root to tip. A ragged groan tore from your throat. Karina’s arms squeezed you in response, her own breathing growing uneven against your back.
Ryujin took her time, her tongue painting slow, maddening circles around the head, licking away the bead of moisture that had gathered there. She savored it, humming softly. “So good,” she mumbled, her lips brushing against you as she spoke. “All for me. For us.”
She opened her mouth and took you in, not with a sudden plunge, but with an excruciatingly slow descent. You watched, mesmerized, as your length disappeared between her lips, her cheeks hollowing slightly. She reached about halfway, her tongue working along the underside, before pulling back with a soft, wet pop.
“Fuck, Ryujin…” you gasped.
She grinned up at you, a wicked, beautiful sight. “I plan to,” she said, before diving back in. This time she took more, her head beginning to bob in a slow, sensual rhythm. Her hands kneaded your ass, guiding your gentle movements. Every pull of her mouth, every flick of her tongue was a masterpiece of controlled pleasure. She was savoring you, just as she promised.
The dual sensations were overwhelming—the hot, wet suction of Ryujin’s mouth, and the soft, full press of Karina’s body against your back, her occasional kisses on your shoulder blade, her hands stroking your stomach.
Then Su-A moved. She knelt beside Ryujin, her face close to her friend’s working mouth. She watched, her own lips slightly parted. After a moment, she turned her head and captured Ryujin’s lips in a deep, messy kiss. You could see their tongues slide together, taste mingling. It was intensely erotic, a shared intimacy that included you completely.
Su-A broke the kiss, her eyes finding yours. “She’s good, isn’t she?” she said, her voice breathless. “But she shouldn’t have all the fun.”
Su-A’s hands joined Ryujin’s on your thighs, her touch slightly cooler. She leaned in and began to kiss and lick the skin of your hip, her mouth working in tandem with Ryujin’s. When Ryujin pulled back to breathe, her lips slick and swollen, Su-A took her place, taking you into her own mouth without hesitation.
The difference was striking. Where Ryujin’s technique was all playful, passionate control, Su-A’s was confident and deep. She took you to the back of her throat almost immediately, a low hum of pleasure vibrating through you. Her hands slid up to your stomach, her nails scratching lightly through the hair there.
Ryujin watched for a moment, panting, a look of pure lust on her face. Then she turned her attention to your balls, cupping them gently in one hand while her mouth and tongue lavished attention on the sensitive skin beneath.
You were lost in a vortex of sensation. Karina’s whispers of encouragement in your ear. The wet, hot heat of Su-A’s mouth. The clever, teasing flicks of Ryujin’s tongue. Your fingers tangled in Su-A’s hair, then in Ryujin’s, not guiding, just needing to hold on.
“That’s it,” Karina whispered, her voice trembling with her own arousal. “They love you so much. We all do.”
Su-A pulled off with a gasp, a string of saliva connecting her lips to you. “Okay,” she panted, her eyes glazed. “My turn for that view.” She shifted, moving to sit on the floor beside you, leaning her head against Karina’s leg, looking up the line of your body.
Ryujin reclaimed her position, her mouth enveloping you once more, her rhythm growing a fraction more urgent, a fraction more desperate. The buildup was exquisite, a slow coil of tension in your gut.
But you didn’t want to finish like this. Not yet. Not when the promise of more hung in the air.
With a force of will that felt superhuman, you gently pulled Ryujin’s head back by her hair. She released you with a surprised, wet sound, looking up at you with questioning, lust-drowned eyes.
“My turn,” you breathed, your voice barely recognizable.
You turned in Karina’s arms, facing her. Her eyes were wide, her lips parted. You cupped her face and kissed her, pouring all the building intensity into it. She melted against you, her hands coming up to clutch at your shoulders. You walked her backward slowly until her legs hit the edge of the large, low sofa in the middle of the room.
“Lie down,” you murmured against her mouth.
She did, sinking into the soft cushions, her cotton sleep shirt riding up to the tops of her thighs. You followed her down, settling between her legs, bracing yourself over her. You kissed her again, deeply, while your hand slid up her thigh, under the hem of her shirt. You found the damp heat of her panties, and a shuddering moan broke from her lips into your mouth.
From the floor, Ryujin and Su-A watched. Ryujin crawled closer, coming to kneel beside the sofa at Karina’s head. She leaned down and kissed Karina’s temple, then her cheek, then captured her lips in a searing kiss of her own, her hand coming to rest on Karina’s stomach, under her shirt.
Su-A stood and walked to the other side of the sofa. She looked down at the three of you, her gaze hungry. Slowly, she hooked her thumbs into the sides of her lace panties and pushed them down her legs, kicking them aside. She was now fully naked, her body a stunning silhouette against the room’s light. She climbed onto the sofa, kneeling near Karina’s hips.
You broke your kiss with Karina, both of you breathless. You looked at Su-A, then at Ryujin. “All of you,” you said, the command soft but undeniable. “I want to see all of you.”
Understanding flashed in their eyes. Ryujin sat back on her heels and pulled her sports bra over her head in one swift motion. Her breasts were small, high, and perfectly shaped, with dusky pink nipples that were already peaked tight. She didn’t shy away; she arched her back slightly, offering herself to your gaze.
Su-A, already bare, simply smiled and ran her hands over her own curves, from her breasts down to her hips, a slow, proud caress.
Karina, beneath you, bit her lip. With a shy glance, she gripped the hem of her sleep shirt and pulled it up, over her head, letting it fall to the floor. She was left in only a pair of simple, pale blue cotton panties. Her breasts spilled free, full and heavy, their weight shifting as she breathed. Her nipples were a deeper pink, large and beautifully erect.
The sight stole the air from your lungs. Three stunning women, all bare, all focused on you and each other. Ryujin’s athletic leanness. Karina’s lush, generous curves. Su-A’s toned, confident elegance. It was a mosaic of desire, and you were at the center.
You lowered your head to Karina’s breast, taking one taut nipple into your mouth. She cried out, her back arching off the cushions. You sucked gently, then with more pressure, your tongue circling the peak. Your hand found her other breast, kneading the soft, heavy flesh, thumb brushing over the nipple.
Ryujin’s hand joined yours, her fingers tracing the curves of Karina’s breast you weren’t touching. “So beautiful, Kka,” Ryujin murmured, before leaning down to kiss Karina’s stomach.
Su-A watched for a moment, her hand drifting between her own legs. She touched herself, her fingers sliding through her folds, a soft sigh escaping her. She wasn’t just an observer; she was a participant, getting off on the sight and the energy in the room.
You moved your mouth lower, trailing kisses down Karina’s quivering stomach. You hooked your fingers into the waistband of her panties. She lifted her hips, a silent plea, and you pulled them down and off her legs. She was completely exposed now, her thighs falling open slightly.
Her pussy was beautiful. Neatly trimmed, her lips full and already glistening with her arousal. The scent of her, musky and sweet, filled the air around you. You knelt between her legs, your hands spreading her thighs wider.
“Please,” she whimpered, her hands fisting in the sofa cushions.
You didn’t make her wait. You lowered your head and pressed an open-mouthed kiss right to her center. Her whole body jerked. Her taste exploded on your tongue—salty, earthy, uniquely Karina. You groaned against her, the sound vibrating through her sensitive flesh.
You began to eat her pussy with a focused hunger, but with the same slow, savoring pace Ryujin had set. Your tongue traced long, slow strokes from her entrance up to her clit, which was already swollen and peeking from its hood. You circled it, lightly at first, then with more firm pressure.
Karina’s moans were high and breathy, music to your ears. Her hands flew to your hair, not pushing, just holding on. “Oh, god… right there… yes…”
Ryujin moved. She stretched out beside Karina’s head, facing her. She kissed Karina deeply, swallowing her moans. One of Ryujin’s hands slid down to cup Karina’s breast, pinching and rolling her nipple.
Su-A crawled closer. She positioned herself near your hip, her eyes on your face as you worshipped Karina’s cunt. Her own fingers were busy between her legs, moving in quick, slick circles. “Look at you,” Su-A breathed, her voice thick with lust. “You’re a natural. Making her feel so good.”
You doubled your efforts, your tongue spearing into Karina’s entrance before flattening against her clit. You sucked the sensitive nub into your mouth, and Karina shattered. Her orgasm hit her suddenly, her body bowing off the sofa. A sharp cry was torn from her throat, muffled by Ryujin’s kiss. Her thighs clamped around your head, her hips bucking against your mouth as wave after wave of pleasure rolled through her. You felt her cunt clench rhythmically around nothing, her juices flowing freely over your chin.
You gentled your tongue, licking her through the aftershocks until her grip on your hair loosened and her body went boneless against the cushions, her chest heaving.
You lifted your head, your lips and chin slick. Ryujin broke the kiss with Karina to look at you, her eyes blazing. Without a word, she grabbed your face and pulled you into a fierce, deep kiss. You could taste Karina on your lips, and Ryujin groaned into your mouth, her tongue licking the flavor from yours.
“My turn,” Ryujin growled when she released you. She pushed you onto your back on the sofa, right next to the spent and trembling Karina. Ryujin swung her leg over your hips, straddling you. Her wet, bare cunt pressed against your hard stomach. She leaned down, bracing her hands on either side of your head, her small breasts dangling above your face.
“You made her come so pretty,” Ryujin whispered, her hips grinding slowly against you, smearing her own arousal on your skin. “Now I want you to make me scream.”
She lowered her mouth to yours in a devouring kiss. As she kissed you, her hand snaked between your bodies, her fingers wrapping around your shaft. She guided you to her entrance, the head of your cock nudging against her soaked, hot folds.
She paused, hovering there, letting you feel the incredible heat of her, the way her body welcomed you without even taking you in. She was dripping, her wetness coating you.
“I’ve wanted this for so long,” she confessed against your lips, her voice breaking with emotion. “Not just the fucking. You. I want you. All of you.” She looked over at Karina, who was watching with hazy, loving eyes, and then at Su-A, who had stopped touching herself to watch this moment with rapt attention. “And I want them to have you, too. We’re sharing you. We’re keeping you.”
With that, she sank down, taking you inside her in one slow, breathtaking inch.
The sensation was blinding. Her tight, silken heat enveloped you, a perfect, glove-like fit. She was so tight you saw stars, her inner muscles fluttering around the intrusion. She took you another inch, a low, guttural moan spilling from her lips. Her forehead dropped to yours, her eyes squeezed shut.
“Fuck… you’re so big,” she gasped. “So deep.”
She began to move, lifting her hips and sinking back down, setting a slow, grinding rhythm that had you seeing stars. Each descent was a deliberate, full-bodied surrender. You could feel every inch of her inner walls gripping you, massaging you. Her breasts brushed against your chest with every movement.
You gripped her hips, helping her set the pace. Your mouth found her neck, sucking and biting at the sensitive skin there. She cried out, her pace faltering for a second before becoming more urgent.
Karina recovered enough to prop herself up on an elbow. She leaned over and captured one of Ryujin’s bouncing breasts in her mouth, sucking the nipple deeply. Ryujin’s moan turned into a ragged sob of pleasure.
Su-A moved then. She came around the sofa and knelt on the floor near your head. She bent down and kissed you, her tongue plunging into your mouth as you fucked her best friend. The multitasking of sensations—Ryujin’s tight cunt milking your cock, Su-A’s hungry kiss, Karina’s mouth on Ryujin’s breast—drove you to the edge of madness.
“That’s it, baby,” Su-A whispered against your lips when she broke the kiss. “Fuck her just like that. She’s wanted it for years. Give her everything.”
Ryujin’s movements became more erratic, her breathing sharp pants against your ear. “I’m close… so close… don’t stop…”
You drove up into her, meeting her downward thrusts. The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room, a lewd, rhythmic music. Karina’s hand slipped between your bodies, her fingers finding Ryujin’s clit and rubbing tight, fast circles.
That was all it took.
Ryujin’s body seized. A raw, shattered scream tore from her throat as her orgasm ripped through her. Her cunt clamped down on you in a series of violent, fluttering spasms, so intense it was almost painful. She collapsed forward onto your chest, her body convulsing, her internal muscles pulling and squeezing every last drop of sensation from you.
The feeling of her coming apart on top of you, her hot release flooding around your cock, pushed you over the edge. With a shout of her name, you erupted inside her. Your hips pistoned up, burying yourself to the hilt as your own release surged through you in thick, pulsing waves. The pleasure was catastrophic, wiping out every thought, leaving only the feel of her, the scent of her sweat and sex, and the sound of her weeping with release against your shoulder.
For long moments, the only sounds were ragged breathing and the faint hum of the air conditioner. Ryujin lay boneless atop you, her heart hammering against yours. You were still buried inside her, both of you pulsing with the aftershocks.
Slowly, gently, Karina and Su-A’s hands were on you both, stroking Ryujin’s back, your arms. Tender, grounding touches.
Ryujin finally stirred, lifting her head. Her eyes were glassy, her makeup smudged, her lips swollen. She looked utterly wrecked and more beautiful than you’d ever seen her. She leaned down and kissed you, a soft, trembling kiss full of unspoken emotion.
“I love you,” she whispered, the words a secret just for you in the aftermath. “I’ve loved you for so long.”
Before you could even process that, the world shifted again. Su-A’s hands were on Ryujin’s shoulders, gently easing her off you. Ryujin slid off to the side with a soft, sated sigh, curling into Karina’s waiting arms on the sofa.
You were exposed again, lying on your back, spent but still throbbing. Su-A looked down at you, her eyes dark with intent. She wasn’t finished. None of them were.
“My turn,” Su-A said, her voice a velvet promise as she swung her leg over your hips, her own wetness now
Ryujin’s spent body curled into Karina’s embrace, their shared warmth a soft island on the vast sofa. You lay beneath Su-A, her weight not yet fully settled, her thighs straddling your hips, her gaze a storm of intent. The air was thick with the scent of sex—musky, salty, sweet—and the low hum of satisfaction.
Su-A didn’t speak. She just looked at you, her eyes tracing the lines of your face, your chest still damp from Ryujin’s sweat and her own release. Her fingers, cool and deliberate, brushed over your stomach, tracing the path of a drop of sweat. Then her hand moved lower, her palm cupping your cock, which was still semi-hard, slick with Ryujin’s juices and your own.
“You’re still so ready,” she observed, her voice a low, velvet murmur. She squeezed gently, her thumb brushing over the sensitive head. A fresh jolt of arousal sparked through your fatigue. “Even after fucking Ryujin’s brains out. You’re a greedy boy.”
From the side, Ryujin chuckled, a tired, happy sound. “He’s ours, unnie. We can be greedy too.”
Karina shifted, her hand stroking Ryujin’s hair. “Should we… help?” she asked, her shyness returning but tempered with a new confidence.
Su-A’s smile was predatory. “Yes. But not like before. I have a different fantasy.” Her eyes locked on yours. “I’ve watched you with them. I’ve watched you take them, make them come. It’s fucking hot. But I’ve also watched them worship you. Ryujin’s mouth on you… Karina’s hands on you… I want that. I want to watch them do it again, but this time, I want to be in the middle of it. I want to feel it.”
You understood. “What do you want?”
She leaned down, her lips brushing yours, a ghost of a kiss. “I want you to lie back. And I want Ryujin and Karina to give you a double blowjob. While I watch. While I touch myself. While I get so fucking wet just looking at my friends choking on your cock.” Her breath was hot against your ear. “And then… I want you to drag me into it. I want a triple. I want all three of our mouths on you, licking, sucking, sharing you. I want to see you slap their asses while they gag on you. I want to see you own them. The thought of it… it makes my cunt ache.”
Her confession was pure, unfiltered lust. It mirrored your own deepest desires, the ones you hadn’t even fully articulated.
Ryujin was already moving. She disentangled herself from Karina, a new energy in her tired limbs. “Fuck yes,” she rasped, crawling off the sofa. She stood, her naked body gleaming in the lamplight, and walked to the other side of you. “I’m not done tasting him. I want to taste him with you, Karina.”
Karina, with a shy but determined nod, also rose. She moved to join Ryujin, both of them now kneeling on the floor beside the sofa, facing you. Their faces were level with your hips. Ryujin’s expression was eager, hungry. Karina’s was soft, but her eyes held a dark, wanting fire.
Su-A shifted, swinging her leg off you and sitting back on the sofa cushions beside your hip. She gave you space, but her presence was a palpable force. “Go on,” she purred. “Show me.”
Ryujin didn’t hesitate. Her hand wrapped around your shaft, her grip firm. She leaned in and her tongue darted out, licking a long stripe from the base to the tip, cleaning away the mixed fluids. “Still so perfect,” she mumbled, before opening her mouth and taking the head inside.
Karina watched for a second, then mirrored her. She didn’t take you in her mouth yet. Instead, she kissed the side of your shaft, her lips soft and warm. Then she nuzzled the skin just below, her cheek rubbing against you. It was tender, almost affectionate, before her mouth joined Ryujin’s.
They didn’t coordinate with words. It was an instinctual teamwork. Ryujin took the upper half, her mouth sinking down until her lips met her hand. Karina focused on the lower half and your balls. Her tongue swirled around the base, then licked over your sensitive sac, her mouth gentle but insistent.
The dual sensation was incredible. Ryujin’s suction was strong, rhythmic, her head bobbing with a practiced ease. Karina’s mouth was softer, wetter, her tongue exploring every inch she could reach. Their heads bumped occasionally, a soft collision that only seemed to spur them on.
Su-A watched, her breathing becoming audible. She spread her legs wider, one hand coming up to cup her own breast, pinching her nipple. The other hand slid between her thighs. You could hear the wet sound of her fingers moving through her folds. “Look at them,” she whispered, her voice trembling. “They’re so fucking good at this. They love your cock so much.”
Ryujin pulled back, her lips releasing you with a wet pop. She looked at Karina. “Switch,” she said, her voice thick.
Karina understood. She moved up, taking the head into her mouth as Ryujin shifted down, her mouth now lavishing attention on your balls. Karina’s technique was different—less aggressive, more exploratory. She sucked gently, her tongue fluttering against the underside of the head. Her full lips enveloped you beautifully, and the sight of her, usually so shy, being so brazen, sent a surge of heat through your gut.
“God, Karina,” you groaned, your hand reaching out to stroke her hair.
She moaned around you, the vibration traveling straight down your spine.
Ryujin wasn’t content with just your balls. Her hand joined her mouth, her fingers stroking the length Karina wasn’t sucking, her thumb rubbing the frenulum. Then she moved her mouth higher, kissing and licking the shaft alongside Karina’s working lips. They were sharing the space, their mouths sometimes meeting, tongues tangling around your flesh.
Su-A’s moan cut through the room. “I can’t… just watch…” Her fingers were working faster now, her hips rocking slightly. “I need to be in it.”
You reached out, your hand not gentle, grabbing a fistful of Su-A’s silky hair. “Then get in it,” you growled, the possessiveness in your voice surprising even you.
She didn’t resist. She leaned forward, crawling off the sofa to kneel on the floor in front of you, between Ryujin and Karina. The three of them now formed a triangle around your cock, their faces all within inches of each other.
“All of you,” you commanded. “Now.”
Ryujin grinned, a wild, excited look. She took the initiative, leaning in and taking about half of your length into her mouth again. Karina, seeing Ryujin’s position, focused on the remaining half, her mouth meeting Ryujin’s, their lips touching around your shaft. It was a double blowjob, but with their mouths overlapping, a messy, wet, shared effort.
Su-A didn’t take you in her mouth immediately. She lowered her head and began to lick and kiss wherever she could find space—the base, the skin above your balls, the side of your shaft pressed against Ryujin’s cheek. Her tongue was hot, her kisses desperate. Then she found a spot. She pressed her open mouth against the side of your cock where Karina’s lips were, sucking the skin there, her tongue dancing alongside Karina’s.
The view was hot as fuck. Three beautiful, naked women, their hair falling around their faces, their lips swollen and slick, all focused on one goal: worshipping your cock. Their cheeks hollowed as they sucked. Their tongues flicked and swirled. Saliva dripped, mixing with pre-cum and their own arousal. The sounds were obscene—wet slurps, soft gagging noises, low hums of pleasure.
You let your hands roam. You reached out and grabbed Ryujin’s ass, her toned, firm cheek fitting perfectly in your palm. You squeezed, then slapped it—not hard, but with a sharp, crisp sound that echoed in the room.
Ryujin gasped around your cock, her body jerking, but she didn’t pull away. Instead, she sucked harder, a challenge.
You turned your attention to Karina. Her ass was fuller, softer. Your hand smacked her cheek, the flesh jiggling beautifully under the impact. She whimpered, a sound of pure submission, and deep-throat you further, taking more of your length than she had before.
Su-A, still licking, looked up at you, her eyes begging. You didn’t slap her ass. You grabbed her hair again, pulling her head forward. “Suck,” you ordered. “Take it.”
She obeyed. She opened her mouth and took the head of your cock into her mouth, her lips sealing around it just below where Ryujin and Karina were working. Now you had three mouths on you at once. Ryujin on the upper half, Karina on the middle, Su-A on the head and the underside. The pressure, the heat, the wetness was overwhelming. Their tongues collided, their lips slid against each other, a symphony of shared pleasure.
They were yours. The thought of it, the visual proof of it, made your cock swell harder, thicker, pushing against the confines of their mouths. You could feel the veins on your shaft throbbing, the head swelling almost painfully.
“You’re choking them,” you muttered, more to yourself than to them. And they were. Ryujin’s eyes were watering as she took you deeper. Karina’s breath was coming in ragged gasps between sucks. Su-A was gagging slightly, but she didn’t pull back; she pushed forward, taking more.
You slapped Ryujin’s ass again, harder this time. A red mark bloomed on her pale skin. She moaned, a guttural, desperate sound, and her cunt, visible from your angle, clenched visibly, dripping fresh arousal onto the floor.
You slapped Karina’s ass, the sound a satisfying thud. Her whole body shuddered, and she released you for a second, coughing, before diving back in with renewed fervor.
Su-A’s hand was still between her own legs, frantically rubbing her clit. “Fuck, fuck, I’m so close…” she panted, her words garbled around your cock.
You wanted to see her come. “Keep going,” you urged, your voice rough. “Make her come while she sucks me.”
Ryujin and Karina understood. They increased their pace, their bobbing heads becoming a synchronized, frantic rhythm. Su-A’s moans grew louder, higher. Her body began to tremble. Her fingers moved wildly, and then her hips bucked. A sharp, broken cry escaped her as her orgasm hit. You felt it through her body, the tension snapping, her mouth going slack around you for a moment as she was lost in the peak.
But she recovered quickly, her mouth resuming its work, sucking with a desperate, post-orgasm hunger.
The combined assault was too much. The coil in your gut tightened to a breaking point. Your balls drew up, a familiar, urgent pressure building.
“I’m gonna come,” you warned, your fingers tightening in their hair.
They didn’t pull away. They pushed in. Ryujin took you as deep as she could, her throat opening around you. Karina swallowed half your length, her nose buried in your stomach. Su-A sucked the head fiercely, her tongue massaging the tip.
The release was volcanic. Your hips bucked off the sofa cushions, thrusting into their collective mouths. The first blast shot directly into Ryujin’s throat. She gulped, swallowing convulsively. The second pulse flooded Karina’s mouth, and she drank it down, her eyes closed in ecstasy. The third, and fourth, and fifth surges filled Su-A’s mouth, spilling over her lips, dripping down her chin.
You came for a long time, a seemingly endless eruption of pent-up need and ownership. They took it all, sucking, swallowing, licking clean every drop that escaped. Their faces were slick with your cum and their saliva, a messy, beautiful painting of submission.
When the last tremor passed, you collapsed back onto the sofa, your body drained, your mind blank. They slowly released you, pulling back with soft, wet sounds.
Ryujin was the first to speak, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, a proud smile on her face. “Fuck, that was intense.”
Karina nodded, her cheeks flushed crimson. She leaned forward and kissed your stomach, a tender, post-service gesture. “You taste so good,” she murmured.
Su-A sat back on her heels, looking dazed and satisfied. She ran her fingers through the cum on her chin, then licked them clean. “I’ve never… done that before. A triple. It’s fucking incredible.” She looked at Ryujin and Karina. “You two are amazing.”
Ryujin crawled forward, not to you, but to Su-A. She kissed Su-A deeply, their tongues sliding together, sharing the taste of you. “We’re a good team,” Ryujin said when they broke apart.
Karina joined them, kissing Su-A’s cheek, then Ryujin’s. The three of them, naked, covered in the evidence of your shared act, formed a small circle of intimacy on the floor. They weren’t jealous. They were happy. Harem-sisters, pleased with their work, pleased with each other.
You watched them, your heart swelling with an emotion beyond lust. It was a deep, warm possessiveness, yes, but also a profound gratitude. They had given you everything, and they had done it together.
After a moment of soft murmurs and touches, Ryujin turned her gaze back to you. “You’re spent,” she observed, her raspy voice gentle. “But we’re not done with our last day.” She glanced out the window, where the first hints of dawn were painting the sky a pale grey. “We have a few hours before we need to pack and leave.”
Su-A stood up, her body elegant even in its fatigue. “A shower,” she declared. “A shared one. To clean up. And then… maybe we can take this energy somewhere else. The private deck. The sunrise.”
Karina’s eyes lit up. “Outside?”
The idea was enticing. The memory of the previous night’s intimacy under the moon, now followed by a sunrise with all three of them…
The shower was a wide, open space, tiled in cool grey stone, with a rainfall showerhead the size of a dinner plate centered in the ceiling. It was built for luxury, for relaxation, not for the kind of frantic, multi-bodied intimacy that was now unfolding within it. But that’s exactly what it became.
Su-A led the way, her posture still regal even as she stepped onto the slick tiles. Ryujin followed, her hand reaching back to pull Karina along. You were the last to enter, the glass door sliding shut behind you with a soft click, sealing you all in a world of warm steam and shared vulnerability.
The water wasn’t on yet. For a moment, you just stood there, the four of you naked in the pale morning light filtering through a high window. The air was cool on your skin, a contrast to the heat still lingering in your blood. You looked at them, and they looked at you. Ryujin’s sharp, athletic frame, marked by the faint red blotch from your slap on her ass. Karina’s softer, curvier silhouette, her breasts heavy and full, her cheeks flushed. Su-A’s toned, confident body, a canvas of controlled power and recent release. And you, standing amidst them, feeling both exposed and utterly accepted.
Su-A reached for the control panel. A dial turned, and a moment later, a cascade of warm water fell from above, drenching you all in a sudden, unifying downpour. It was hot, almost scalding at first, then adjusted to a perfect, enveloping warmth.
“Okay,” Su-A said, her voice clear under the water’s patter. “No more fucking for now. Just… cleaning up. Talking. Being together.”
It was a directive, but it felt like a permission. A space to breathe.
Ryujin stepped under the central stream, letting the water run over her face, her short hair plastering to her scalp. She sighed, a sound of pure contentment. “God, that feels good. My mouth feels… used.”
Karina giggled, a soft, shy sound. She moved closer to Ryujin, letting the water hit her back. “My throat feels the same. But… good. Used in a good way.”
You moved to stand beside Su-A, who was already soaping up her hands with a bottle of expensive-looking body wash from a shelf. The scent was clean, herbal, with a hint of citrus. She began to wash her arms, her movements methodical.
“So,” she said, not looking at you directly. “How are you feeling? In your head. Not just your body.”
The question was unexpected. It cut through the physical afterglow, probing the emotional landscape. You took a moment, letting the water run over your shoulders.
“I’m… overwhelmed,” you admitted. “In a good way. It’s like… everything I ever fantasized about, but it’s real. And it’s with you. All of you.” You glanced at Ryujin and Karina, who were now listening, their expressions open. “I’ve had a crush on both of you for years. Since you first started coming over to our house. Ryujin’s confidence… Karina’s smile… I used to think about it when I was alone. But I never thought…”
“You never thought we’d be on a trip together, sucking your cock in a triple blowjob?” Ryujin interjected, her raspy voice laced with amusement.
“Yeah,” you said, a laugh bubbling up. “That’s exactly what I never thought.”
Karina’s smile was tender. She stepped closer, the water making her skin glisten. “I thought about you too,” she confessed, her voice barely audible over the shower. “When I saw you studying in your room, or when you’d smile at me. I thought… he’s so kind. He has a nice smile. I wanted to talk to you more, but I was always too shy.”
Ryujin nodded, moving to Karina’s side, a protective, supportive presence. “Same. I hid it better, I guess. Teasing you, playing around—that was my way of showing I liked you. But the real feeling… it was deeper. When Su-A suggested this trip, and said you were coming… I knew it was my chance. To stop hiding.”
Su-A finished washing her arms and turned to you, her hands slick with soap. “My turn,” she said, her tone gentle but firm. She began to wash your chest, her palms sliding over your skin, spreading the soap in slow, circular motions. It wasn’t a sexual touch, but it was deeply intimate. Her fingers traced over your collarbone, your pectorals, the dip of your sternum. “I knew about your crushes,” she said, her eyes focused on her task. “I’ve known for a while. I see how you look at them. And I see how they look at you, even when they think no one’s noticing.”
You stood still, letting her cleanse you. “So this trip… it wasn’t just a vacation.”
“No,” Su-A confirmed. “It was a setup. A gift. For you, and for them.” She rinsed her hands under the water, then started on your back. Her fingers worked over your shoulders, down your spine. “I have a… fantasy, like I said. Seeing you happy. Seeing you taken care of. By people I love. And seeing them happy, too. It’s a kink, I guess. A deep one. But it’s also just… love. In a messy, complicated, fucking perfect way.”
Ryujin took the body wash next. She didn’t soap herself up first. She stepped towards Karina. “Let me,” she said softly. Karina nodded, turning her back to Ryujin. Ryujin’s hands, strong and sure, began to wash Karina’s shoulders, her back, the dip of her waist. Karina closed her eyes, a soft sigh escaping her lips.
“You’re so beautiful, Karina,” Ryujin murmured, her voice devoid of its usual teasing edge. “I’ve always thought that.”
They shared a look, a silent communication that spoke of years of friendship, now deepened by a night of shared passion and service.
The shower became a choreography of care. Su-A washed you. Ryujin washed Karina. Then Karina, gaining confidence, took the soap and turned to Ryujin, washing her toned arms, her lean stomach. You watched, the warmth of the water and the warmth of their actions seeping into your bones.
After a while, the roles shifted again. Su-A finished with you and stepped back under the rainfall to rinse. You took the soap and turned to Karina. She looked at you, her gaze trusting.
“Can I?” you asked.
She nodded. “Please.”
You started with her shoulders, just as Ryujin had. Her skin was incredibly soft, like warm silk under your soapy palms. You moved down her back, feeling the subtle curve of her spine, the swell of her hips. She was quiet, but her breathing deepened. When your hands slid around to her stomach, just above the water’s stream, she trembled slightly.
“You okay?” you whispered.
“Yes,” she breathed. “It’s just… your hands feel so good. Safe.”
You continued, washing her front with a tender, respectful touch. You avoided her breasts, focusing on her ribs, her stomach, the tops of her thighs. It was an act of service, a return of the care she’d given you.
When you were done, she turned and, without a word, began to wash you again, a reciprocation that felt like a silent vow.
Ryujin and Su-A were talking under the shower stream, their voices low.
“What happens after today?” Ryujin asked Su-A, a pragmatic question cutting through the tenderness.
Su-A tilted her head back, letting the water run over her face. “We go home. Back to reality. Jobs, routines, all that.”
Ryujin’s expression sobered. “And… this? What we just did? What we are?”
Su-A looked at Ryujin, then at you and Karina. “This doesn’t end because the trip ends. This is… a new part of our reality. If we all want it to be.”
Karina paused her washing of your arm. “I want it,” she said, her voice firmer than you’d ever heard it. “I don’t want to go back to just being your stepsister’s friend who visits sometimes. I want… more.”
Ryujin grinned, that familiar, wild smile returning. “Hell yes. I want more too. I want to fuck him in my apartment. I want to cook tteokbokki for him and have Karina there. I want to share him. With you, Su-A. With Karina.”
The word “share” hung in the steam-filled air. It wasn’t a dirty word here. It was a promise.
Su-A nodded. “It’ll be complicated. Logistics. Feelings. But we’re all adults. We can figure it out.” She looked at you. “What do you want?”
You’d been listening, your mind racing through scenarios. The idea of returning to your normal life—college, your part-time job, your quiet room—and then having this… this incredible, secret network of intimacy with these three women… it was dizzying.
“I want it all,” you said, the truth simple and stark. “I want Karina’s shy smiles in my kitchen. I want Ryujin’s teasing texts during my classes. I want Su-A’s… orchestrations. I want to be with you. All of you. In whatever way works.”
Ryujin laughed, a happy, relieved sound. “Then we’ll make it work. We’re a fucking good team, remember?”
The water continued to fall, rinsing away the soap, the sweat, the remnants of your shared climax. You were clean now, physically. But emotionally, you were raw, open, newly configured.
Su-A turned off the water. The sudden silence was striking. The only sound was the drip of water from bodies and the distant hum of the resort’s infrastructure.
“We should dry off,” Su-A said, practical again. “And then… the deck. The sunrise.”
There were thick, white cotton towels stacked on a heated rack. Ryujin grabbed a few and started handing them out. The act of drying each other became another intimate ritual. Karina toweled your back, her movements gentle. You dried her hair, blotting the water from her long, dark strands. Ryujin dried Su-A’s athletic limbs with a brisk, efficient touch, and Su-A returned the favor.
When you were all mostly dry, standing in the steamy bathroom, a new kind of tension began to weave itself into the air. It was the tension of anticipation. The promise of the sunrise, of the private deck, of a “last memory” still to be made.
Ryujin was the first to move towards the door leading to the deck. It was a sliding glass panel, currently showing a view of the dark ocean and a sky that was transitioning from deep night to a pre-dawn indigo.
“It’s cold outside,” she observed, “but the deck has those loungers. And we have towels. We can wrap up.”
Karina hesitated, looking at her naked body. “Outside… naked?”
Su-A smiled. “It’s our private deck. No one can see. And the sunrise… it’s worth it. It’s the last thing we’ll see here together.”
That decided it. Karina nodded, a brave little gesture.
You all stepped out of the bathroom, padding across the cool floor of the bungalow’s main room towards the deck door. Ryujin slid it open. A rush of cool, salt-tanged air swept in, a shock against your warm skin. It was exhilarating.
The deck was wide, made of smooth, treated wood. It extended out over the water, with a railing around the edge. There were two wide, padded sun loungers, a small table, and a couple of thick, waterproof blankets folded on a shelf.
Ryujin grabbed the blankets. “These’ll help.”
You all stepped out onto the deck. The world was quiet, the resort asleep, the only sound the gentle lap of water against the bungalow’s pylons below. The sky was a masterpiece of gradient color—deep blue at the horizon, fading to a lighter, star-studded expanse above. In the east, a thin line of orange was just beginning to bleed into the darkness.
Ryujin spread one blanket on a lounger. “Come on,” she said, gesturing for you to sit.
You settled onto the lounger, the padded surface cool under your thighs. Karina sat beside you, close, her body leaning against yours for warmth. Ryujin sat on your other side, and Su-A took the space next to Karina, completing a circle on the single, wide lounger. Ryujin draped the second blanket over all of you, a shared canopy of warmth.
For a few minutes, you just sat there, wrapped in the blanket, watching the sky change. The silence was profound, but not empty. It was filled with the weight of the night’s events, the honesty of the shower talk, the promise of the future.
Karina’s hand found yours under the blanket. She laced her fingers through yours, her grip firm and sure.
“I’m not scared anymore,” she said, her voice a soft murmur against your ear. “Not of you. Not of this. I feel… free.”
Ryujin leaned her head on your shoulder. “I feel the same. I’ve been hiding this part of me—the part that wants to submit, to serve, to share—for so long. With you… it’s just out. It’s just me.”
Su-A watched the horizon, her profile elegant in the dim light. “I feel satisfied,” she said. “My fantasy… it’s real now. It’s not just a thought in my head. It’s you, here, with them. And you’re happy. They’re happy. That’s… everything I wanted.”
You listened to their confessions, each one a piece of a puzzle that was now, finally, assembled. Your crush on Karina—her shyness melted into a brave, free desire. Your crush on Ryujin—her tomboyish teasing transformed into a raw, open vulnerability. Your relationship with Su-A—her playful orchestrations revealed as a deep, loving kink aimed at your happiness.
The orange line on the horizon thickened, bleeding upward into a band of gold. The stars began to fade, surrendering to the coming light.
“What will it be like at home?” you asked, the practical worries surfacing. “You two live together, right?”
Ryujin and Karina nodded. “We share an apartment,” Ryujin confirmed. “It’ll be easy, in a way. He can come over. We can… continue.”
Su-A shifted under the blanket. “I live close by. I can be part of it. Or… I can be the planner. The one who sets up the next ‘trip.’” She smiled, a sly, knowing smile. “Maybe not the Maldives next time. Maybe a cabin. Or a beach house.”
The idea of a future, of continuity, solidified in the cool morning air. It wasn’t a fleeting holiday fantasy. It was a blueprint for a new kind of life.
The gold band in the sky now erupted into a brilliant, fiery orange. The sun itself wasn’t visible yet, but its light began to paint the underside of the clouds in brilliant hues of pink and lavender. The ocean, previously a dark mirror, started to gleam, reflecting the dawn colors in shifting, liquid patterns.
Karina squeezed your hand tighter. “It’s so beautiful.”
Ryujin sighed, a contented sound. “A perfect last memory.”
But as the light grew, the intimacy of the blanket-shared lounger began to feel… charged again. The cool air, the breathtaking vista, the naked bodies pressed together for warmth—it was a recipe for renewed tension.
Su-A’s hand, under the blanket, moved. It didn’t go to you. It went to Karina’s hip, resting there, a gentle, possessive touch. Karina didn’t flinch; she leaned into it.
Ryujin’s head tilted, her lips brushing your shoulder. “You’re getting hard again,” she whispered, her raspy voice full of amusement. “I can feel it against my leg.”
You were. The combination of their words, their touches, the majestic sunrise, the sheer improbability of this moment—it was stirring your body despite your fatigue.
“Sorry,” you mumbled, half-embarrassed.
“Don’t be sorry,” Ryujin said, her tone turning low and hungry. “It’s a compliment.” Her hand slid under the blanket, finding your thigh. Her fingers traced upwards, not towards your cock, but just stroking your skin. “The sunrise is beautiful. But watching it while feeling you get ready for us… that’s even better.”
Karina’s breathing changed. She felt Ryujin’s movement, heard her words. Her own hand, still holding yours, began to tremble slightly. Not from fear, but from arousal.
Su-A watched the two of them, her expression serene but her eyes dark with understanding. “The tension is back,” she observed softly. “We said no more fucking in the shower. But we’re not in the shower anymore.”
The implication hung in the air, as bright as the rising sun.
The orange glow intensified, and then, a sliver of the sun itself breached the horizon—a brilliant, blinding crescent of pure light. It painted the world in sharp, golden outlines. Your skin, their skin, the wood of the deck, the water below—everything was illuminated in a sudden, glorious dawn.
In that burst of light, Karina turned her face to you. Her eyes were wide, reflecting the sunrise, but also reflecting a deep, unwavering desire. “I want to feel you,” she whispered, her voice clear and sure in the new light. “Not like last night. Not like in the living room. Something… quieter. Just you and me. While the sun comes up.”
Ryujin’s fingers paused on your thigh. She didn’t protest. She nodded, a supportive, happy nod. “You should,” she said to Karina. “You deserve a moment that’s just yours.”
Su-A agreed. “We’ll watch. We’ll be here.”
The offer, the permission, was breathtaking. Karina wanted a private moment with you, within this shared space, with her harem-sisters witnessing but not intervening.
Karina shifted under the blanket, moving so she was facing you more fully. The blanket fell away from her shoulders, exposing her upper body to the cool air and the golden light. Her breasts, full and heavy, were illuminated, the nipples tightening in the chill. She was breathtaking.
She leaned forward, her lips meeting yours. The kiss was different from any before. It was slow, deep, and filled with a profound emotional current. It wasn’t a kiss leading to a fuck; it was a kiss affirming a bond. Her tongue touched yours gently, a soft exploration.
When the kiss ended, she pulled back just enough to speak. “Lie back,” she murmured.
You did, shifting on the lounger so you were reclining against the padded headrest. Karina moved with you, settling between your legs, her body covering yours. The blanket was now mostly off, a discarded pool of fabric beside the lounger. The sunrise bathed your naked bodies in warm, vivid light.
Ryujin and Su-A sat on the edges of the lounger, their bodies close, their eyes on you and Karina. They were spectators, but their presence was supportive, loving.
Karina’s hands slid over your stomach, your chest. Her touch was worshipful, tender. She didn’t rush. She traced every line, every contour, as if memorizing you in the dawn light. Her fingers brushed over your nipples, your collarbone, the dip of your throat.
Then her hands moved lower. She took your cock in her hand, not to suck it, but to hold it. She just held it, her palm warm against your hardening flesh. She looked at it, then at you, her eyes soft.
“I love this part of you,” she said, her voice a reverent whisper. “I love how it feels. I love what it does to me. To us.”
She began to stroke you, her hand moving up and down with a slow, deliberate pace. It wasn’t the frantic pumping of a blowjob. It was a sensual massage, a communion. Her thumb brushed over the head, spreading the bead of pre-cum that had gathered there.
The sunrise continued its ascent, the sliver becoming a half-circle, then a full, blazing orb lifting from the sea. The world was now fully awake, golden and bright.
Karina’s strokes continued, her rhythm steady, her gaze locked with yours. You could see Ryujin and Su-A in your periphery, watching silently, their expressions soft and approving.
“I’m not going to make you come,” Karina said, her voice still that gentle whisper. “I just want to feel you. I want you to feel me. I want this memory to be… slow. Perfect.”
You nodded, your throat tight with emotion. “It’s perfect.”
She leaned down then, not to take you in her mouth, but to kiss the tip. A soft, lingering press of her lips against the sensitive head. Then she kissed your stomach, your thighs, everywhere but the core. It was a map of affection drawn on your body with her mouth.
Ryujin, watching, let out a soft sigh. “God, she’s good at this. So gentle.”
Su-A smiled. “She’s learning herself. And teaching us.”
Karina continued her gentle worship for minutes, her hands and lips exploring you as the sun climbed higher, its light warming your skin directly now, chasing away the chill of the dawn air. You were fully hard, aching with a need that was more emotional than physical. The need to be close to her, to be known by her in this quiet, sunlit way.
Eventually, she shifted her position. She rose up, kneeling between your legs, and then she lay down on top of you, her body aligning with yours, her breasts pressing against your chest, her stomach against yours, her legs straddling your hips. She wasn’t positioning herself for penetration; she was positioning herself for closeness. Her face nestled into the side of your neck, her breath warm against your skin.
“Hold me,” she whispered.
You wrapped your arms around her, holding her tight against you. Your cock was trapped between your stomach and hers, a hard, warm line of connection. You could feel her heartbeat against your chest, fast and steady.
Ryujin and Su-A moved closer. They didn’t touch you or Karina. They just sat beside the lounger, their hands finding each other’s under the discarded blanket. They held hands, watching you and Karina embrace under the full sunrise.
It was a moment of pure, unadulterated romance. The sex was in the past, and in the future. But right now, it was just this: holding Karina, feeling her love, witnessing the dawn with your harem-sisters as witnesses and participants in this new, complicated love.
Time seemed to stretch. The sun rose fully, turning from gold to a bright, daylight white. The magic of the sunrise moment passed, but the intimacy of the embrace did not.
Finally, Karina stirred. She lifted her head from your neck and looked at you. Her eyes were clear, happy, and utterly without shyness.
“Thank you,” she said.
“Thank you,” you replied.
She kissed you once more, a brief, sweet kiss, then she sat up, disentangling herself from you. The cool air hit your skin again, a reminder that the moment was over.
Ryujin stood up, stretching her arms overhead. “Okay. Now I’m hungry. And we need to pack.”
Su-A laughed, the sound breaking the solemn atmosphere. “Back to reality. But with a new map.”
Karina stood too, reaching for the towel to wrap around herself. You sat up, your body feeling lighter, clearer than it had all trip.
The sunrise had been witnessed. The last memory, as Ryujin had wanted, had been made. It wasn’t a frenzied fuck. It was a tender, sunlit embrace that solidified everything that had happened in the dark.
You all stood on the deck for a final moment, looking at the now-bright ocean, the fully awakened resort. The trip was ending. But something much bigger was beginning.
Ryujin turned to you, her playful grin returning. “So. Breakfast first. Then packing. Then the airport.” She paused, her eyes glinting. “And then… planning the next trip. My apartment first. I have a new fantasy too. I want to fuck you on my kitchen counter while Karina makes tteokbokki.”
Tags : Threesome, Female Co-Workers, Body Worship, Feetlicking, Choking, Reverse Cowgirl, Sixty Nine Plus One, Penetration Plus Stimulation, Double Blowjob, Double Oral, Deepthroat, Kissing, Semi-Hardcore, Breeding, Office Wife, Kinky, Creampie, Spanking
Words : 10,200 Words
The fluorescent lights hummed a low, constant drone, a sound you’d long ago learned to filter out alongside the soft clatter of keyboards and the occasional, weary sigh from a neighboring cubicle. Your eyes burned, the lines of code on your monitor blurring into a gray, indecipherable soup. Another midnight oil session. Another deliverable that Yunjin had declared “urgent” at 4:59 PM on a Friday. Your body felt hollow, a vessel filled with nothing but caffeine jitters and a deep, bone-deep ache that no amount of stretching could reach.
Across the aisle, Kazuha’s head was pillowed on her folded arms, her dark hair spilling over her desk like an ink stain. She’d been that way for twenty minutes. Chaewon, two desks down, wasn’t faring much better. She was staring blankly at her screen, the vibrant purple of her sweater a stark, almost cruel contrast to the pallor of her face. The three of you were the last souls in this particular wing of NexaCorp’s innovation hub, the “promising young talents” Yunjin loved to trot out for investors, now ground into fine dust.
You pushed back from your desk, the wheels of your chair squeaking in the profound silence. The sound made Kazuha stir, lifting her head. Her eyes, usually bright and curious, were glassy with exhaustion. “Still alive?” she mumbled, her voice raspy from disuse.
“Barely,” you said, the word tasting like stale coffee. “My brain feels like overcooked noodles.”
Chaewon swiveled her chair slowly, the motion deliberate and tired. “Yunjin’s new timeline is a war crime. A literal, Geneva Convention-violating war crime.” She ran a hand through her blonde hair, which was usually sleek and perfect but now had a frizzy, defeated quality. “I haven’t seen my boyfriend in three days. He thinks I’ve joined a cult.”
“A cult of misery and stock options,” Kazuha added, resting her chin back on her arms. “I used to think this job would be… enlightening. You know? Cutting-edge. Instead, it’s just cutting away my will to live.”
A shared, humorless laugh passed between the three of you. It was a familiar ritual. The complaints were the same, the fatigue was the same. The only thing that ever changed was the depth of the despair. Tonight, it felt bottomless.
Chaewon’s gaze, however, shifted. It lost its vague, thousand-yard stare and sharpened, focusing on you with an intensity that felt new. She looked you up and down, not with the casual glance of a coworker, but with an appraisal that made the skin on your neck prickle. Her eyes lingered on your shoulders, your hands resting on the desk.
“You look like shit,” she said finally, but her tone wasn’t cruel. It was observational, almost clinical.
“Thanks. You too.”
“No, I mean it.” She stood up, the movement fluid despite the hour. She walked over, her heeled boots clicking softly on the linoleum until she was leaning against your cubicle partition. The scent of her perfume—something expensive and floral—cut through the sterile office air. “We all do. We’re rotting in here. Our brains are mush. Our bodies are… just sacks of tired meat.”
Kazuha watched, her head still on her arms, but her eyes were tracking Chaewon’s every move.
“What’s your point, Chaewon?” you asked, too tired for riddles.
“My point is,” she said, lowering her voice to a conspiratorial murmur, “we need a release valve. Something the company health plan doesn’t cover.” Her lips, painted a deep, smudged berry red, curved into a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. It was a hungry, brittle thing. “My boyfriend is across the city, probably asleep. I’m here, vibrating with this… this awful, coiled-up energy. And you’re here.”
The implication hung in the air, thick and sudden. You blinked, sure you’d misheard her exhaustion-addled brain. But the look in her eye was unmistakable. It was a look of pure, unadulterated need, stripped of all pretense.
“Chaewon…” Kazuha’s voice was a whisper, but it held a note of warning, or maybe curiosity.
“Don’t ‘Chaewon’ me,” she shot back, her eyes still locked on you. “You feel it too. This place sucks the life out of you. It leaves this… this hollow, angry space. And sometimes, you just need to feel something else. Something real. Even if it’s just friction.”
Her words were blunt, vulgar in their honesty. They bypassed your tired mind and spoke directly to the part of you that was just as frayed, just as desperate for a sensation that wasn’t numbness. You’d noticed Chaewon before, of course. Everyone did. She had that effortless, sharp beauty—high cheekbones, a slender neck, legs that seemed to go on forever in her tailored pants. But this was different. This wasn’t admiration. This was an offer. A transaction of stress relief.
“The supply closet,” she said, nodding her head toward the far end of the floor. “The one with the broken light. No one goes in there after hours.”
“You’re serious,” you said, not a question.
“Deadly.” She reached out, her fingers brushing the back of your hand where it lay on the mouse. Her touch was electric against your tired skin. “Come on. Let’s be unprofessional for fifteen minutes.”
You looked at Kazuha. Her expression was unreadable, a mixture of shock, fascination, and something else—a flicker of the same desperate hunger. She gave a tiny, almost imperceptible shrug, as if to say, Why the hell not?
That was all the permission you needed. The rebellion of it, the sheer audacity, was a shot of adrenaline straight to your core. You stood up, your chair rolling back to bump softly against the desk.
Without another word, Chaewon turned and walked, her hips swaying with a purpose that had nothing to do with work. You followed, your heart hammering against your ribs, the fatigue momentarily burned away by a raw, buzzing anticipation. You heard the soft scrape of Kazuha’s chair behind you. She was following too.
The walk to the supply closet was the longest thirty seconds of your life. The empty office felt cavernous, every shadow a potential witness. Chaewon didn’t hesitate. She pushed the door open, the darkness inside yawning wide. She stepped in, pulling you after her by the wrist. Kazuha slipped in last, closing the door behind her with a soft, definitive click.
The darkness was absolute, smelling of dust, paper, and industrial cleaner. Then a phone screen flared to life, held by Chaewon, casting her face in an eerie blue glow. It highlighted the determined set of her jaw, the dark pools of her eyes.
“No light,” she whispered, her voice a low vibration in the confined space. “Just us.”
In the dim, shifting light from the phone she’d tossed onto a shelf, you saw her move. Her hands went to the waistband of her trousers. The button popped open. The zipper hissed down. She hooked her thumbs into the fabric of her trousers and her black lace panties and pushed them down in one smooth, decisive motion, just past the curve of her hips. The fabric pooled around her thighs, held up by her stocking-tops. She didn’t take them off. She just… made an opening.
The sight was profoundly illicit. The pale skin of her lower stomach, the dark shadow of her pubic hair just visible, the way her trousers and panties constricted around her strong thighs. She braced one hand against a shelf stacked with reams of paper, the other reaching back to guide your hand.
“Fuck me,” she said, the words not a request, not even a command, but a statement of fact. A solution to a problem. “Just fuck me. Don’t think. Don’t talk. Just… make me feel something that isn’t this.”
Your own hands felt clumsy as you fumbled with your belt, your own fatigue replaced by a throbbing, urgent need. This was madness. This was perfect. Kazuha was a silent statue in the corner, her eyes wide, reflecting the phone’s light as she watched.
You moved behind Chaewon, the rough fabric of your trousers brushing against the bare skin of her thighs. She was warm, so warm. You guided yourself, finding her entrance with a blunt, unceremonious push. She was wet. Slick and hot and ready, her body betraying a readiness her sharp words hadn’t hinted at. A soft, punched-out sound escaped her lips as you entered her, a gasp that was half relief, half pain.
And then you were moving. There was no tenderness, no slow build. It was a frantic, driving rhythm, a physical exorcism of every frustrating meeting, every impossible deadline. The sound of skin slapping against skin, the rustle of clothing, Chaewon’s sharp, controlled breaths turning into ragged moans she tried to stifle by biting her own wrist. Her free hand scrabbled against the metal shelf, knocking over a box of staples.
You gripped her hip, your fingers digging into the soft flesh above the bunched fabric of her trousers. Your other hand found its way to her throat, not squeezing, just resting there, feeling the frantic jump of her pulse under your palm. She arched her back, pushing herself onto you harder, faster.
“Yes,” she hissed, the word a serpentine sound in the dark. “Just like that. Fuck this job. Fuck Yunjin.”
It was over quickly, a storm that broke with sudden, violent intensity. You buried your face in the crook of her neck, smelling her perfume and sweat, as your bodies tensed and shuddered in unison. For a few seconds, there was only the sound of heavy breathing in the dusty dark.
You pulled away, the reality of the situation crashing back. Chaewon straightened up, pulling her trousers and panties back into place with efficient, unembarrassed motions. She turned, her face flushed, her berry lipstick smeared slightly at the corner of her mouth. She looked at you, then at Kazuha, who hadn’t moved.
“Better,” Chaewon stated, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. She picked up her phone, the light now feeling intrusive. “See you at the stand-up tomorrow.”
And she was gone, slipping out of the closet and leaving you and Kazuha in stunned silence.
The air felt charged, thick with the scent of sex and shame and a strange, exhilarating defiance. Kazuha finally moved, stepping away from the wall. In the faint light from under the door, you could see her expression wasn’t one of judgment, but of dawning comprehension.
“Well,” she said, her voice barely audible. “That’s one way to handle a performance review.”
A week passed. The incident in the supply closet wasn’t mentioned. It hung between the three of you like a shared, dirty secret, a circuit breaker that had been tripped. Work was the same soul-crushing grind. Yunjin’s demands were relentless. But something had shifted.
You caught Chaewon looking at you sometimes during meetings, her gaze lingering just a second too long, a ghost of that hungry smile on her lips. It was Kazuha, however, who surprised you.
It was another late night, just the two of you this time, battling a server migration that was going spectacularly wrong. The stress was a tangible thing, a metallic taste in your mouth. You’d been troubleshooting for five hours straight.
“I can’t,” Kazuha finally said, throwing her headset onto the desk. “My eyes are crossing. If I see one more error log, I’m going to scream.”
“Don’t scream. Yunjin might hear and give us more work,” you muttered, rubbing your temples.
Kazuha stood up and walked over to your desk. She didn’t have Chaewon’s predatory grace. Her energy was quieter, more coiled. She leaned against your desk, her thigh brushing your arm. She was wearing a soft, cream-colored sweater and a knee-length skirt.
“Chaewon was right, you know,” she said, her voice soft. “About needing a release.” She looked down at you, her dark eyes searching your face. “It’s all just… pressure. Up here.” She tapped her temple. “And down here.” Her hand drifted, almost unconsciously, to her lower stomach.
You stared up at her, the code on your monitor forgotten. “Kazuha…”
“I’ve never done anything like that,” she admitted, a faint blush coloring her cheeks. “I’m the ‘good one’. The one who follows the rules. And look where it’s gotten me. I’m just as miserable as everyone else.” She bit her lip, a nervous habit you’d seen a hundred times before, but now it felt charged. “I think about it. What you two did. I can’t stop thinking about it.”
She reached out, her fingers tracing the line of your jaw. Her touch was tentative, exploring. “Would it be so wrong?” she whispered. “To feel good for a few minutes? To forget?”
This was different from Chaewon’s blunt demand. This was a question, an invitation wrapped in vulnerability. It was infinitely more dangerous. You stood up, the motion bringing you close to her. You could see the fine tremble in her lower lip.
You didn’t answer with words. You leaned in and kissed her.
It was nothing like the frantic, angry coupling in the supply closet. This was slow. Painfully slow. Her lips were soft, yielding at first, then parting with a small, surprised sigh. You tasted the coffee she’d been drinking, and something sweeter, uniquely her. Your hands came up to cradle her face, your thumbs stroking her cheeks as your mouths moved together in a deepening, searching rhythm.
One of your hands slid down, over the soft wool of her sweater, to the small of her back, pulling her gently against you. You could feel the warmth of her body through your clothes, the rapid beat of her heart. Her own hands came up to clutch at the fabric of your shirt, holding on as if she were adrift.
You broke the kiss, both of you breathing heavily. Her eyes were wide, dark pools in the dim office light. “The conference room,” she breathed. “The one on the south side. It has a lock.”
Hand in hand, you walked there, a silent, urgent procession. The empty halls felt like a dream. Inside the conference room, you flicked the lock and turned to her. The large glass table reflected the city lights bleeding in from the window.
This time, there was more undressing. Not all of it, but enough. You helped her out of her sweater, revealing a simple, lace-trimmed camisole beneath. You kissed her again, pushing her back gently until she was sitting on the edge of the massive table, the cool glass seeping through her skirt. You knelt before her, your hands sliding up her stocking-clad legs, feeling the powerful muscles of her thighs tense under your touch.
You kissed the inside of her knee, then higher, your mouth moving up the sensitive skin of her inner thigh. She gasped, her fingers tangling in your hair. You reached the hem of her skirt, pushed it up, and found her panties—simple cotton, now damp with her arousal. You mouthed her through the fabric, feeling her jump, hearing a low moan tear from her throat.
“Please,” she whispered, her voice shaking.
You hooked your fingers into the waistband of her panties and slid them down, just enough. You didn’t remove her skirt. You just created an access, a secret space in the shadowy folds of fabric. And then you lowered your head.
The first touch of your tongue made her cry out, a sharp, sweet sound that echoed in the empty room. She was different from Chaewon—softer, more responsive in a trembling, overwhelmed way. You licked a slow, broad stripe through her folds, savoring her taste, musky and clean. Her hands tightened in your hair, not pushing, just holding on.
You focused on her clit, circling it with the tip of your tongue, then sucking it gently between your lips. Her thighs trembled on either side of your head, trying to close, but you were there, holding them open. Her hips began to move, rocking in tiny, desperate circles against your mouth. You slid a hand up under her camisole, finding her breast, her nipple hardening instantly against your palm. You rolled it between your fingers as you continued to taste her, the twin sensations pulling ragged sobs from her.
“Oh, god… oh, fuck,” she chanted, her head thrown back, the cords of her neck standing out. “Don’t stop, please, please don’t stop…”
You didn’t. You drank her in, licking and sucking until her movements became frantic, until her pleas dissolved into wordless cries. Her orgasm hit her like a wave, her body bowing off the table, her thighs clamping around your ears as she shook, a long, silent scream on her lips before she collapsed back, panting.
You rested your forehead against her thigh, breathing heavily. The taste of her was on your lips, the scent of her filled your head. After a moment, she slid off the table, her legs wobbling, and sank to her knees in front of you. Her eyes were hazy with pleasure as she looked up at you, her smudged lipstick a dark bloom on her mouth.
“My turn,” she said, her voice husky.
Her hands went to your belt. This was new. This was reciprocal. As she worked you free, you realized the dynamic had irrevocably changed. This wasn’t a one-time stress relief. This was a pattern. A pact.
And you were a willing participant.
The next day felt different. The weight of the work was still there, a constant low-grade ache in your skull, but now it was layered over with a buzzing, feverish memory. The scent of Kazuha’s skin, the taste of Chaewon’s sweat. It was a secret fuel, burning quietly beneath the surface of spreadsheets and code reviews. You moved through the morning tasks in a haze, your mind replaying the conference room, the supply closet, the feel of bodies yielding under your hands.
Chaewon was at her desk, typing with a ferocious speed that seemed to mock the sluggish pace of your own thoughts. Kazuha was quieter, her movements deliberate, but you caught her glancing at you once, a quick flicker of her eyes that held a warmth you hadn’t seen before. It was noon when the first break came. Yunjin had declared a mandatory fifteen-minute “mental reset” period, a hollow corporate gesture that everyone used to scavenge for coffee or stare blankly at their phones.
You wandered into the break room, a sterile space of stainless steel appliances and beige walls. The smell of burnt popcorn lingered in the air. You poured yourself a cup of water from the cooler, the plastic cup feeling flimsy in your hand.
Chaewon appeared at the doorway, her silhouette sharp against the fluorescent hallway light. She didn’t look at the snacks or the coffee machine. She looked directly at you, her expression devoid of its usual brittle humor. It was flat, focused, predatory.
“You,” she said, her voice cutting through the quiet hum of the refrigerator. “Come here.”
She didn’t wait for you to respond. She turned and walked back into the hallway, but not toward the main office area. She headed for the smaller, secondary break room—a narrower space with a single counter, a sink, and a microwave. It was rarely used. You followed, your pulse kicking up a notch.
She pushed the door open, and you stepped in after her. She didn’t turn around. She walked to the counter, a laminate surface that ran along one wall, and placed her palms flat on it. She leaned forward, her back to you, her head bowed. The posture was deliberate, a statement.
“I didn’t get enough,” she said, her voice low and taut. “Last week was a tease. It scratched the surface. Today… today I feel like I’m going to tear someone’s head off if I don’t get fucked properly.”
She straightened slightly, turning her head to look at you over her shoulder. Her eyes were dark, intense. “This isn’t a negotiation. It’s a requirement. For my sanity. For yours, probably. Get over here and fuck me on this counter. Hard. Fast. No talking.”
The vulgarity of the demand, stripped of any pretense of romance or seduction, was a shockwave that went straight to your gut. You felt your cock stir, thickening against the fabric of your trousers, a blunt, obedient response to her raw command. You moved toward her, the small room shrinking around you, filled only with the scent of her perfume and the aggressive energy she radiated.
She didn’t adjust her clothes. She kept her sleek black trousers on, her heeled boots planted firmly on the tile floor. She simply hooked her thumbs into the waistband of her trousers and her panties—black lace again, you knew without seeing—and shoved them down just enough. The fabric slid past the curve of her hips, bunching around the tops of her thighs, creating a narrow window of exposed skin. The pale swell of her ass, the shadowed cleft, the dark hair of her pussy just visible.
“Now,” she breathed, the word a final punctuation.
You unbuttoned your own trousers, your movements quicker this time, less clumsy. You freed yourself, your cock already hard, standing thick and eager against your stomach. You stepped up behind her, the rough wool of your trousers brushing against the smooth skin of her thighs. You placed a hand on her hip, feeling the firm muscle beneath. The other hand you brought to her throat, not to choke, but to hold, to claim a bit of control in this storm she was orchestrating. Your palm felt the rapid flutter of her pulse.
You guided yourself to her entrance, finding it slick and hot even before contact. She was wet, a ready, welcoming heat that defied her aggressive tone. You pushed into her without ceremony, a single, deep thrust that buried you inside her to the root.
A sharp, guttural sound tore from her throat, a mix of pain and profound relief. Her body arched, her back bowing, her hands gripping the edge of the counter for stability. You began to move immediately, a driving, punishing rhythm that had no patience for gentle exploration. Each thrust was a solid, heavy impact, your hips hammering against the backs of her thighs, the sound of your bodies colliding a wet, rhythmic slap in the small room.
Chaewon’s breath came in ragged, torn gasps. She pushed back against you, meeting every thrust with a fierce counter-force, her hips rocking to take you deeper. “Faster,” she snarled, her voice strained. “Harder. Fuck me like you hate this job.”
You obliged. Your grip on her hip tightened, your fingers digging into her flesh. Your other hand stayed at her throat, feeling her swallow, feeling her muscles tense as she absorbed each plunge. The angle was deep, each push grinding your cockhead against the innermost parts of her, a brutal pressure that made her gasp and curse.
“Yes… fuck, yes…” she moaned, her words dissolving into a stream of filthy encouragement. “Use me. Just use me. Pound this fucking stress out of me.”
The counter shook under her weight. A mug sitting near the sink rattled. The world outside this room—the deadlines, the emails, Yunjin’s voice—disintegrated into a white noise behind the pounding beat of this raw, physical exorcism. You fucked her with a single-minded intensity, your own stress, your own coiled frustration, translating directly into the force of your thrusts. Sweat beaded on your forehead, dripped down your back. Her perfume mingled with the salty, musky scent of sex, of exertion, of release.
You felt her pussy begin to clench around you, a series of tight, involuntary spasms that gripped your shaft. Her breathing turned jagged, erratic. “I’m… I’m gonna…” she choked out, her body tensing, her fingers scrabbling at the laminate countertop.
You didn’t slow. You kept fucking her, pushing her through that threshold. Her orgasm hit her violently, a convulsion that rippled through her entire frame. Her thighs shook, her back arched impossibly high, and a sharp, guttural cry erupted from her, loud and unfiltered in the small room. Her pussy clamped down on you, a series of rapid, fluttering contractions that felt like a velvet fist milking your cock.
As her climax subsided into trembling aftershocks, you felt your own peak approaching, a tidal pressure building in your balls. You drove into her one last time, burying yourself as deep as you could go, and let go. A hot, urgent rush flooded out of you, filling her, a thick pulse of release that seemed to echo the frantic rhythm of your thrusts. You stayed there, pressed against her, your cock twitching inside her as the last of your cum spilled into her depths.
For a few seconds, there was only the sound of heavy, labored breathing, the hum of the refrigerator, and the wet, intimate sound of your bodies still joined.
Then, a new sound. A soft, hesitant clearing of a throat.
You both turned your heads, still connected, to see Kazuha standing at the open doorway. She hadn’t entered. She was just there, watching. Her face was flushed, her lips parted. Her eyes were wide, fixed on the scene—Chaewon bent over the counter, trousers and panties bunched at her thighs, your hand still on her throat, your body still flush against her backside.
Chaewon, still panting, let out a low, breathless laugh. “See something you like?” she rasped, her voice hoarse.
Kazuha didn’t answer immediately. She stepped into the room, closing the door behind her with a soft click. The space was now crowded with three bodies, the air thick with sex and sweat. She looked at Chaewon, then at you, her expression a complex tapestry of shock, envy, and a hungry curiosity that mirrored Chaewon’s own earlier look.
“I didn’t want to miss out,” Kazuha said softly, her voice trembling slightly. “I was… walking by. I heard.”
Chaewon slowly straightened, pushing you back with a slight shift of her hips. You withdrew, your cock slick and glistening, dripping with a mix of her fluids and your own. Chaewon pulled her trousers and panties back up with that same efficient, unembarrassed motion. She turned to face Kazuha, her face still flushed, her lipstick smeared.
“It’s not a private club,” Chaewon said, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. “Membership is open. Stress is the only prerequisite.”
Kazuha’s gaze dropped to your still-exposed cock, then back up to your face. Her own need was palpable, a quiet vibration in the air. “I feel it too,” she admitted. “All day. Since yesterday… it’s just sitting there, in my stomach. A knot.”
Chaewon smirked. “Well, we have a solution for knots.” She looked at you. “You’re not done, are you?”
You weren’t. The sight of Kazuha, her vulnerability mixed with this new, bold hunger, reignited the fire in your gut. You stepped toward her, and she didn’t retreat. She stepped closer, her body almost touching yours.
“What do you want?” you asked her, your voice rough.
She looked down, then up, meeting your eyes with a newfound resolve. “I want… what she got. But… different.” Her hands came up, trembling, to the buttons of her blouse. She began to undo them, one by one. “I want to feel… everything.”
Chaewon watched, her eyes gleaming with a feral interest. “This room is too small for just standing,” she observed. She gestured to the floor. “Get creative.”
The suggestion hung in the air, a catalyst. Kazuha finished unbuttoning her blouse, letting it hang open to reveal a simple white camisole beneath. She didn’t remove it. She just let it hang, an open invitation. Then she knelt on the tile floor, the cool surface probably uncomfortable, but she didn’t seem to care. She looked up at you, her eyes pleading.
Chaewon moved too. She came to stand beside Kazuha, then lowered herself to the floor as well, mirroring Kazuha’s position. They knelt side by side, facing you, their faces level with your groin. The visual was staggering—Chaewon’s sharp, predatory beauty and Kazuha’s softer, earnest need, both focused on the same target.
“Sixty-nine,” Chaewon said, her tone instructional. “But with a plus one.” She glanced at Kazuha. “You take him. I’ll take you.”
Kazuha’s eyes widened, but she nodded, a slow, accepting motion. She understood. She leaned forward, her hands reaching for your cock. Her touch was softer than Chaewon’s, more exploratory. She gripped your shaft, her fingers stroking the length, feeling the thickness that made her own fingers seem small. She brought her mouth to the head, her lips parting, and took you inside.
The sensation was immediate and intense—the warm, wet seal of her mouth, the gentle pressure of her tongue sliding along your underside. You groaned, a deep sound that echoed in the room.
Chaewon didn’t wait. She shifted her position, turning to face Kazuha’s lower body. Kazuha was still in her skirt, a knee-length, conservative office garment. Chaewon simply pushed the fabric up, bunching it around Kazuha’s waist, exposing her thighs and her simple cotton panties. Chaewon didn’t bother removing them. She hooked her fingers into the side, pulled them aside, and dove in.
Kazuha gasped, the sensation of Chaewon’s mouth on her pussy interrupting her focus on you. Her head jerked back slightly, but Chaewon’s hands held her hips firmly, keeping her in place. Chaewon’s technique was different from yours—aggressive, direct, her tongue moving with a ruthless efficiency. Kazuha moaned, a sound muffled by your cock still in her mouth, her body trembling.
You watched, your hand coming to rest on Kazuha’s head, fingers threading through her dark hair. Chaewon’s head was buried between Kazuha’s thighs, her blonde hair swaying as she worked. Kazuha, in turn, was sucking you with a growing desperation, her mouth moving down your shaft, taking more of you in, her cheeks hollowing as she tried to accommodate your thickness. Her face strained with the effort, her jaw working, her eyes squeezed shut in concentration.
Chaewon’s hands moved from Kazuha’s hips to her own trousers. She unbuttoned them again, pushed them down just past her ass, and then guided your free hand to her. You understood. While Kazuha sucked your cock, and Chaewon ate Kazuha’s pussy, you would touch Chaewon. The “plus one.”
You reached down, your fingers finding Chaewon’s exposed wetness. She was already slick, swollen from your earlier fucking. You slid a finger inside her, then two, feeling her inner muscles clench around your intrusion. She groaned against Kazuha’s flesh, her rhythm becoming more frantic, her tongue driving harder against Kazuha’s clit.
It was a circuit of sensation—a feedback loop of pleasure. Kazuha’s moans, vibrating around your cock, spurred Chaewon’s efforts, which made Kazuha buck and writhe, which made her suck you harder and deeper, which made your fingers work Chaewon more intensely. The room filled with the sounds of wet, sloppy sucking, of Chaewon’s hungry licks, of Kazuha’s choked gasps, of your own ragged breathing.
Chaewon’s head moved with a relentless pace, her tongue spearing into Kazuha’s folds, then circling her clit, then plunging back in. Kazuha’s body began to convulse, her thighs shaking, her hips trying to thrust against Chaewon’s face. Chaewon held her firm, eating her with a voracious hunger that seemed to consume Kazuha’s stress, her tension, her pent-up energy, transforming it into raw, physical release.
Kazuha’s orgasm arrived with a silent, shuddering intensity. Her body locked, her back arching, her mouth clamping down on your cock in a sudden, tight suction. A flood of wetness spilled from her, soaking Chaewon’s chin, dripping onto the tile floor. Kazuha cried out, the sound garbled around your shaft, as she trembled through the peak.
Chaewon didn’t stop. She kept lapping at Kazuha, drinking in her climax, her own hips rocking against your hand. You added a third finger inside her, stretching her, feeling her pussy grasp and release around your digits. Chaewon’s own moans grew louder, more urgent.
Kazuha, recovering, renewed her efforts on your cock. Her mouth moved with a frantic, needy pace now, her tongue swirling around your head, her hand pumping the base of your shaft. She looked up at you, her eyes tear-filled and hazy, a silent plea for you to finish.
Chaewon pulled her face back from Kazuha’s thighs, her chin glistening. She looked at you, her eyes wild. “Now fuck her,” she commanded, her voice thick with her own arousal. “While I watch. While I feel you in me.”
You pulled back from Kazuha’s mouth, your cock dripping with her saliva. Kazuha collapsed back onto her heels, panting, her blouse hanging open, her camisole damp with sweat. Chaewon shifted, moving to sit against the wall, her trousers still bunched at her thighs, her pussy exposed and glistening from your fingers. She spread her legs, an open invitation.
You turned to Kazuha. She understood. She moved, not to stand, but to position herself on her knees, facing Chaewon. She leaned forward, bracing her hands on Chaewon’s thighs, and lowered her head between Chaewon’s legs. She took Chaewon’s pussy into her mouth, mimicking what Chaewon had done to her.
Chaewon groaned, her head tilting back against the wall. “Fuck yeah,” she breathed, her hands coming to Kazuha’s head, guiding her.
You moved behind Kazuha. Her skirt was still bunched up around her waist, her panties pulled aside. Her pussy was swollen, wet, open from Chaewon’s ministrations and her own orgasm. You positioned yourself, your cock finding her entrance with ease. You pushed into her, a deep, smooth penetration that made her cry out, the sound muffled by Chaewon’s flesh.
You began to fuck her, a slower rhythm now but still firm, still deep. Each thrust pushed Kazuha forward, her mouth driving deeper into Chaewon. Each withdrawal pulled her back, her lips leaving Chaewon briefly before diving back in. It was a synchronized motion—your hips pumping, Kazuha’s body rocking, Chaewon’s hips lifting to meet Kazuha’s mouth.
Chaewon’s hands gripped Kazuha’s hair, holding her in place as Kazuha licked and sucked. Chaewon’s eyes were locked on you, watching your cock slide into Kazuha, watching your body move. “Look at that,” Chaewon moaned, her voice ragged. “Look at you fucking her while she eats me. God, that’s hot.”
You focused on Kazuha, on the feel of her tight, wet channel around you, on the way her body yielded to each thrust. You reached around her, your hands finding her breasts under her open blouse and camisole. You squeezed them, feeling her nipples harden against your palms. Kazuha moaned again, the vibration traveling through her mouth into Chaewon’s core.
Chaewon’s breathing became frantic. “I’m close… fuck, Kazuha, don’t stop… and you… fuck her harder…”
You obeyed, increasing your pace, your thrusts becoming more forceful, more demanding. Kazuha’s body shook with each impact, her ass slapping against your thighs, her moans growing louder, less controlled. Chaewon’s thighs tensed, her hips bucking against Kazuha’s face. Her head thrashed back against the wall.
“Now,” Chaewon snarled, her body convulsing. “Fuck, now!”
Kazuha redoubled her efforts, her tongue driving deep, her lips sucking hard. Chaewon’s orgasm erupted—a sharp, loud cry that filled the room, her body stiffening, her pussy clenching around Kazuha’s tongue. A fresh gush of wetness spilled from her, soaking Kazuha’s chin.
The sight, the sounds, the feel of Kazuha tightening around your cock as she witnessed Chaewon’s climax—it pushed you over your own edge. You gripped Kazuha’s hips, holding her steady, and drove into her one final, deep time. You buried yourself as far as you could go, feeling your cockhead press against the deepest part of her, a pressure that made her gasp and shudder. Then you let go.
Your release was a flood, a hot, urgent rush that filled Kazuha’s pussy, spilling deep into her. You kept thrusting through it, pumping your cum into her, feeling her inner muscles flutter and grasp around your shaft as she received you. She moaned, a long, trembling sound, her body accepting every pulse.
When you finally slowed, pulling out slowly, the room was a tableau of exhausted, sweaty bodies. Kazuha collapsed forward, her head resting on Chaewon’s thigh, panting. Chaewon slumped against the wall, her eyes closed, a sheen of sweat on her forehead. You stood, your cock slick and dripping, the air thick with the musk of sex—sweet, salty, profoundly human.
For a long minute, no one spoke. The only sounds were the ragged draws of breath, the hum of the appliances, the drip of fluids onto the tile.
Chaewon finally opened her eyes. She looked at Kazuha, then at you, and a slow, genuine smile spread across her face—not the brittle, hungry smirk from before, but something softer, more satisfied. “Well,” she said, her voice hoarse but bright. “That definitely cleared my head.”
Kazuha lifted her head, her face a mess of sweat, saliva, and Chaewon’s fluids. She smiled too, a shy, dazed grin. “Mine too.”
You pulled your clothes back into some semblance of order, your body humming with a deep, satiated fatigue that was entirely different from the work-induced exhaustion. The three of you helped each other up, straightened clothing, wiped faces with paper towels from the sink. There was a strange camaraderie in the aftermath, a shared secret that felt heavier, more binding, than before.
You left the break room together, walking back into the main office area. The fluorescent lights felt different now, less oppressive. The hum of computers was just background noise. You returned to your desks, to your screens, to the unfinished code.
But the rest of the day was transformed. Chaewon typed with a relaxed, almost playful speed. Kazuha moved with a quiet confidence. You found yourself solving problems with a clarity that had been missing for weeks. You exchanged glances, small smiles that held a world of meaning. Their hair was messy, strands escaping from careful styles. Their clothes were damp with sweat, blouses clinging to skin, skirts wrinkled. And underneath their clothing, their pussies were wet, filled with your cum, a secret warmth they carried through the afternoon.
The dopamine from the encounter was a palpable drug, brightening their moods, softening the edges of Yunjin’s harsh emails. They laughed at things that weren’t funny, smirked at passing colleagues, shared a private, knowing look across the aisle. The stress was still there, but it was background noise now, drowned out by the lingering echo of flesh and pleasure.
At 5:03 PM, as you were packing up your laptop, your phone buzzed with a notification. You glanced at it. An Instagram DM. A new group. Kazuha had created it. The group name was just a period, a simple dot. The members were you, Chaewon, and Kazuha.
The first message appeared, from Kazuha.
“My apartment. Tonight. 8 PM. No excuses.”
A second message, from Chaewon, followed immediately.
“Bring your fucking stamina.”
The elevator hummed, a low mechanical purr that did nothing to calm the frantic drumming in your chest. The plastic bag in your hand felt absurdly light, the bottles of soju and wine within clinking softly with each movement. You were late. Not fashionably late. Stressfully late. The clock on your phone had mocked you all through the stalled traffic, the frantic stop at the liquor store, the sprint to Kazuha’s building. Now, standing in the mirrored elevator, you saw your own reflection—hair slightly mussed, shirt wrinkled from the day, eyes holding a wild, anticipatory gleam.
The doors slid open on the fourteenth floor. And there she was.
Kazuha leaned against the wall opposite the elevator, a vision that made your throat go dry. She wasn’t in office attire. The risky, sexy red lace bikini was more a series of strategic connections than actual clothing. Tiny triangles of crimson lace barely contained the full, pale swell of her breasts, the nipples visibly peaked and dark beneath the sheer fabric. A matching scrap of lace sat low on her hips, doing little to hide the neat triangle of dark hair beneath. Over it all, she wore a black lace robe, utterly see-through, the gossamer fabric doing nothing but adding a layer of tantalizing shadow to her form. The robe hung open, revealing the entirety of the bikini and the smooth, toned planes of her stomach.
Her face broke into a smile that was both sweet and dangerously knowing. “You made it,” she breathed, her voice a husky whisper. She pushed off the wall and closed the distance between you in two graceful steps. The scent of her hit you—jasmine and something warmer, skin-warmed and intimate.
She didn’t wait for you to speak. She took your free hand in both of hers, her fingers cool and soft. She tugged you gently out of the elevator and down the plush, silent hallway. As you walked, she pressed herself against your side, her head tilting to nuzzle into the crook of your neck. Her lips brushed your skin, a ghost of a touch.
“Mmm. You’re warm,” she murmured. Her breath was hot. “What did you bring us?”
You managed to lift the bag. “Soju. And a cabernet. I wasn’t sure…”
“Perfect,” she interrupted, her teeth grazing your earlobe in a gentle bite that sent a jolt straight to your groin. “We’ll need the fuel.”
She stopped at a door, number 1407, and produced a key. With a click, she pushed it open, still holding your hand, and pulled you inside.
The apartment was warm, dimly lit by a few lamps, smelling of sandalwood incense and clean linen. And in the center of the living room, caught in a pool of golden light from a floor lamp, was Chaewon.
She was in the process of stepping into a pair of black lace panties, the fabric sheer and intricate. She hadn’t yet put on the matching bra, which lay discarded on the back of a sofa. Her small, pert breasts were bare, the nipples a deep, flushed pink and already hardened. She froze, one foot through the panty leg, and looked up as you entered.
Her face, which had been focused, transformed. Her eyes, sharp and intense, lit up with a predatory delight. She finished pulling the panties up, the lace settling high on her hips, and then she was stalking toward you, completely topless, her movements a fluid, confident prowl.
“Why the hell are you so fucking late?” she demanded, but she was smiling, a wide, wicked grin. She didn’t stop until she was right in front of you. She smacked your arm, a playful but stinging slap. “You’ve been making us wait. We’ve been sitting here, thinking about you, getting all… worked up.”
Her gaze dropped pointedly to your trousers. You could feel your cock, thick and heavy, already straining against the zipper, twitching violently at the dual presence of them—Kazuha’s soft, perfumed warmth at your side, Chaewon’s bare-chested, aggressive energy in front of you. The air in the room felt charged, thick with intention.
You swallowed, your mouth suddenly dry. “Traffic,” you managed, the word sounding weak.
Chaewon scoffed, rolling her eyes. “Excuses.” She reached out and plucked the bag from your hand, her fingers brushing yours. She peered inside. “Good. Now, clothes. Off. We’re not doing this with you dressed like you’re still at your desk.”
But Kazuha was already moving. While Chaewon turned to place the bottles on a low coffee table, Kazuha stepped in front of you. Her hands came up to frame your face. Her eyes, dark and liquid, searched yours.
“Ignore her,” Kazuha whispered, her voice trembling with a need that felt raw, untamed. “She’s just impatient. I’ve been waiting too. Thinking about your hands. Your mouth.” She leaned in, her lips hovering just a breath from yours. “Fuck me up. Use me however you want. I need it. I need to feel… owned.”
Her kiss wasn’t gentle. It was a hungry, open-mouthed collision, her tongue sliding against yours with a desperate urgency. The taste of her was mint and wine. Her hands slid from your face into your hair, gripping tightly, pulling you deeper into the kiss. The sheer robe slipped from one of her shoulders, baring the red lace strap and the smooth curve of her shoulder.
A low, approving chuckle came from Chaewon. “That’s my girl. No more good-girl bullshit.”
The kiss broke, and Kazuha was panting, her lips swollen and glistening. “Please,” she breathed, the word a plea that bypassed your brain and went straight to your cock.
You didn’t hesitate. You bent, sliding one arm behind her knees, the other around her back, and lifted her. She was light, her body yielding as she wrapped her arms around your neck, her legs around your waist. The flimsy robe fell open completely, and the heat of her core, separated from you by just a whisper of red lace, pressed against your stomach. You carried her, following her murmured directions, through an archway into a bedroom.
It was Kazuha’s space—softer, with cream-colored bedding and a large, inviting bed. You laid her down on the duvet, her dark hair fanning out around her. You followed her down, your body covering hers, and your mouth found her neck. You kissed, then sucked, then bit down gently on the tender skin where her neck met her shoulder. She cried out, a sharp, beautiful sound, her back arching, pushing her lace-covered breasts against your chest.
“Yes,” she hissed, her hands scrabbling at your shirt. “More. Mark me.”
You complied, leaving a rosy bloom on her skin, your lips traveling lower, over her collarbone, toward the tempting swell of her breasts. But you didn’t stop there. You moved down her body, your hands pushing the open robe completely out of the way. You hooked your fingers into the sides of her tiny red lace panties. She lifted her hips, a silent, eager cooperation, and you pulled them down her thighs, past her knees, and off, tossing them aside. They landed on the floor with a soft, insignificant whisper.
Now she was bare from the waist down, the black lace robe framing her nakedness like a sinful portrait. Her thighs fell open, an invitation. The sight of her pussy, already glistening, the lips swollen and parted, the dark, neat curls damp, made your own breath catch. You settled between her legs, your hands sliding under her thighs, pushing them wider, lifting them to rest over your shoulders. The position opened her completely, exposing every delicate, wet fold to your gaze.
You didn’t tease. You leaned in and buried your face in her.
The first, broad stroke of your tongue from her entrance all the way up to her clit was a revelation. She tasted clean, musky, intensely female. A sharp, guttural moan tore from her throat, and her hands flew to your head, her fingers tangling in your hair, not to push you away, but to hold you there. “Oh god, right there, fuck, your tongue…”
You ate her with a single-minded hunger, your own stress and the day’s tension dissolving into this act of worship. Your tongue delved into her entrance, fucking into her with short, firm strokes, gathering her wetness. You circled her opening, then moved upward, focusing on her clit. You sucked the stiff, swollen bud into your mouth, applying gentle pressure with your lips while your tongue flicked rapidly over the tip.
Kazuha’s body became a live wire. Her hips bucked off the bed, trying to grind against your face. Her thighs tightened around your head, trembling with the strain. A stream of filthy, broken praise fell from her lips. “Yes, like that, suck it, lick me, don’t stop, I’m gonna come, I’m gonna come all over your fucking face…”
You added a finger, sliding it easily into her sopping channel alongside your tongue. You curled it, searching, and found that rough, spongy spot inside her. You pressed against it, rhythmically, in time with the flicks of your tongue on her clit.
Her reaction was instantaneous and violent. Her back bowed off the mattress, a strangled scream ripping from her lungs. Her pussy clenched around your finger in a series of brutal, rhythmic pulses, and a gush of hot, clear fluid erupted from her, soaking your chin, your mouth, dripping down onto the duvet beneath her. She squirted, the release sudden and profuse, a testament to the intensity of her climax. Her legs shook uncontrollably, her heels digging into your back as she rode out the wave, her cries dissolving into shuddering, helpless sobs.
You kept your mouth on her, drinking her in, licking her through the aftershocks until she was whimpering and pushing weakly at your head, oversensitive.
A weight dipped the bed beside you. You looked up, your face wet, to see Chaewon. She had shed her panties and was now completely naked except for the black lace bra she’d finally put on. She knelt next to Kazuha’s head, her eyes dark with lust.
“My turn to play,” Chaewon purred. She leaned down, her small breasts swaying, and took one of Kazuha’s peaked, lace-covered nipples into her mouth. She sucked hard, her teeth grazing the sensitive nub through the fabric.
Kazuha, still spasming from her orgasm, jolted again, a fresh moan breaking from her. “Chaewon… fuck…”
“Shhh,” Chaewon murmured, switching to the other nipple, sucking just as fiercely. “Just feel it. He’s not done with you.”
She was right. The sight of Chaewon sucking Kazuha’s tits while you were between her legs, the taste of Kazuha’s climax still on your lips, drove you into a frenzy. You pulled back, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. You needed to be inside her. Now.
You moved up her body, your knees pushing her thighs wide. You fumbled with your belt, your button, your zipper, your fingers clumsy with need. Chaewon, noticing, chuckled against Kazuha’s breast. She reached over, her hand deft and sure, and finished the job for you. She yanked your trousers and boxers down just enough to free your cock.
It sprang out, fully erect, thick and veined, the head already flushed a deep purple and beaded with precum. Chaewon’s eyes widened appreciatively. “Fuck, look at that,” she breathed. “No wonder she’s a mess.”
You didn’t need guidance. You positioned yourself at Kazuha’s entrance, which was swollen, puffy, and dripping wet from her orgasm and your mouth. You looked down at her. Her face was flushed, her lips parted, her eyes glazed and fixed on yours. She reached down between her own legs, her fingers spreading her folds wider for you, an invitation that was almost obscene.
“Breed me,” she whispered, the words raw and desperate. “Please. I need to feel you fill me up. I want it. I want your cum so deep inside me it never leaves.”
The crude, primal demand shattered your last shred of control. You gripped her hips, your fingers digging into the soft flesh of her thighs, and you shoved into her.
The penetration was a blunt, overwhelming stretch. She was tight, incredibly so, but so wet that your cock sank in, a slow, inexorable invasion that made her eyes roll back. You buried yourself to the hilt in one long, deep thrust, your pelvis meeting hers with a soft, wet smack. You were sheathed completely inside her, your cockhead pressing insistently against the deepest part of her, a pressure that felt like it was bruising her cervix.
“Fuuuuck,” Kazuha wailed, her body accepting the intrusion with a full-body shudder. Her inner walls fluttered and clenched around you, a desperate, velvety grip.
You began to move. You fucked her with a slow, deep, punishing rhythm, each withdrawal almost complete before plunging back in to that same profound depth. The angle was perfect, the head of your cock grinding against her cervix with every inward stroke. The wet, slapping sounds of your bodies meeting filled the room, a lewd soundtrack to the scene.
Kazuha was incoherent. Her hands flew to her own breasts, pinching and pulling at her nipples through the red lace. Her head thrashed side to side on the pillow. Chaewon watched, rapt, her own hand slipping between her legs, her fingers working her clit in fast, tight circles as she observed you claiming Kazuha.
“Look at her take it,” Chaewon moaned, her voice ragged. “Look at how your fat cock is splitting her open. She loves it. She’s a fucking breeding slut for you.”
Kazuha could only nod frantically, tears leaking from the corners of her eyes. “Yes! Yes, I am! More! Harder! Make me yours!”
You obliged. Your pace increased, the thrusts becoming faster, harder, more animalistic. Your balls slapped against her ass with each drive. The bedframe began a rhythmic creak of protest. You leaned forward, bracing yourself on your hands beside her head, your body covering hers. Your faces were inches apart. You could see every flicker of pleasure and pain in her eyes.
“You want my cum?” you growled, the words coming out rough, foreign to your own ears. “You want me to knock you up?”
“Yes!” she screamed, her legs locking around your waist, her heels digging into your ass, trying to pull you even deeper. “Do it! Fill my fucking womb! I don’t care! Just give it to me!”
The visual, the feel, the filthy, breeding-focused demands pushed you to the brink. You felt the telltale tightening in your balls, the heat coiling at the base of your spine. You drove into her one last, final time, hilting yourself so deep you felt your pubic bone grind against her clit. You held there, buried to the root, as your orgasm erupted.
It was a volcanic release. Thick, hot pulses of cum shot from your cock, directly into her depths, flooding her channel, spurting against her waiting cervix. You groaned, a deep, guttural sound of absolute release, as you emptied yourself into her. Kazuha felt it. Her eyes flew wide, a look of shock and profound satisfaction crossing her face as she felt the hot rush filling her. Her own body clenched around you in a second, lesser orgasm, her pussy milking your cock for every last drop.
You collapsed on top of her, spent, your cock still twitching inside her, still plugged deep, keeping your cum contained within her. For a long moment, there was only the sound of ragged, panting breaths.
Chaewon’s voice broke the silence, husky with her own arousal. “My turn.”
You slowly, reluctantly, pulled out of Kazuha. A soft, wet sound accompanied your withdrawal, and a trickle of your mixed fluids—her slickness and your cum—escaped her, staining the cream duvet beneath her. Kazuha made a soft, disappointed sound but didn’t move, her body boneless, her eyes closed in satiated bliss.
You turned to Chaewon. She was on her knees on the bed, her back to you. She had pushed her lace bra up, exposing her small breasts, and was looking at you over her shoulder. Her expression was pure, unadulterated lust.
“I want you to fuck me rough, daddy,” she said, her voice low and commanding. She reached back, spreading the cheeks of her ass with both hands, offering you a view of her tight, pink asshole and, just below, her glistening, swollen pussy lips. “This hole of mine is yours. Wreck it.”
A sliver of rationality pierced the haze. You remembered the boyfriend. The pictures on her desk. The normalcy that existed outside this bubble of stress and sex.
“Are you sure about this, Chae?” you asked, your voice still rough.
She froze, her brow furrowing in genuine confusion. She turned her upper body to look at you more fully. “What’s wrong?”
“You have a boyfriend,” you said, the words feeling stupid and out of place in this den of sin.
Chaewon’s confusion melted into a look of utter contempt. She let out a short, sharp laugh. “Fuck him,” she spat. “His dick is so tiny, it couldn’t even reach the entrance. It’s like being poked with a fucking pencil.” She turned fully now, crawling toward you on the bed until her face was close to yours. Her eyes were blazing. “I want you. I want this.” Her hand reached down, wrapping around your cock, which was still semi-hard, slick with Kazuha’s juices and your own cum. She pumped it firmly, and it responded, thickening rapidly in her grip. “So forget about that loser. I want a real man. And I want you to breed me, as much as you just bred Kazuha. I want to feel your cum dripping out of me tomorrow at my desk.”
Any hesitation evaporated, burned away by the sheer, vulgar force of her desire. You grabbed her, flipping her onto her back. You didn’t kiss her. You pinned her wrists above her head with one hand. With the other, you guided your cock to her entrance. She was wet, but tighter than Kazuha, her muscles coiled with a different kind of tension.
“You want it rough?” you growled.
“Fucking destroy me,” she challenged, her eyes locked on yours, defiant.
You slammed into her.
It was a brutal, punishing penetration. She gasped, her body arching, but she didn’t look away. You set a furious pace from the start, your hips pistoning, your thighs slamming against hers. The sound was louder, harder, a wet, meaty smacking that echoed in the room. You released her wrists, and your hand went to her throat, not squeezing enough to cut off air, but applying a firm, dominant pressure that made her pulse hammer against your palm.
“Is this what you wanted?” you grunted, fucking her with deep, jackhammer strokes.
“Yes! Harder! Choke me, you fucking bastard!” she screamed, her own hands flying to your forearm, not to pull it away, but to hold it there, to feel the pressure.
You spanked her ass, your palm connecting with the pale flesh of her cheek with a sharp crack. A red handprint bloomed instantly. She cried out, a sound of pure ecstasy. You spanked her again, on the other side.
Your rhythm was relentless, a machine-like fucking that focused on pure, deep penetration. Her pussy was a tight, hot vice, gripping your cock with a fierce intensity. You could feel her walls straining to accommodate your thickness, stretching around you with each brutal thrust.
“You feel that?” you gasped. “You feel how deep I am? I’m hitting your fucking cervix, Chaewon. I’m gonna break through it.”
“Do it!” she shrieked, her body beginning to tremble beneath you. Her eyes were wild, unfocused. “Fuck my womb! Fill it up!”
Her arousal was a waterfall. With each thrust, a fresh gush of her fluids spilled out, soaking the sheets beneath her, mingling with the mess already there from Kazuha. The squelching sounds were obscenely loud. Her body began to seize, her orgasm building not from gentle stimulation but from this raw, brutal pounding.
“I’m gonna squirt!” she warned, her voice a strained rasp. “Oh god, I’m gonna fucking drown you!”
You didn’t let up. You fucked her through it. Her back arched violently, her mouth opened in a silent scream for a second before a guttural, ragged cry tore free. And then it happened. A torrent of clear fluid erupted from her, not in a gentle trickle but in a sudden, shocking flood. It gushed over your cock, your balls, soaking the sheets in a wide, dark patch. She squirted violently, her body convulsing, her pussy clenching and fluttering around your shaft in erratic, powerful spasms.
The sensation of her hot release, combined with the visual of her losing complete control, sent you over the edge again. You buried yourself to the hilt, your cockhead mashing against her cervix, and roared as you came. Your second load shot into her, a slightly thinner but no less voluminous flood, mixing with her own fluids inside her already-stretched channel. You pumped into her, spurting jet after jet, claiming her just as she’d demanded.
As the last pulses faded, you collapsed beside her, both of you gasping, dripping, utterly wrecked.
A warm, soft body pressed against your side. Kazuha. She had recovered enough to move. She curled into you, her head on your chest, one hand lazily tracing circles on your sweat-slicked skin. She leaned up and kissed you, a slow, deep, sensual kiss that tasted of sex and shared exhaustion. Her other hand drifted down, her fingers gently stroking your spent, sensitive cock, which lay heavy and softening on your thigh.
“Mmm,” she hummed against your lips. “You’re incredible.”
Chaewon, still panting, rolled onto her side to face you. A slow, sated, utterly genuine smile spread across her face. She reached out, her fingers intertwining with yours on the damp sheet. She didn’t say anything. She just held your hand, her grip firm, her eyes soft in a way you’d never seen before.
The night was still young. Your body was tired, but a low, simmering energy still hummed beneath the surface. The bed was a ruined landscape of soaked, wrinkled sheets, stained with sweat, saliva, squirt, and cum. The three of you lay tangled together in the aftermath, a sweaty, sticky, sated knot of limbs and quiet breaths.
Kazuha’s lips found your ear. “Don’t fall asleep yet,” she whispered, her voice a promise. “We’re just getting started".
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tags: threesome, breeding, overstimulation, blowjob, squirt, facefuck, voyeur, hard sex, bi, creampie, pussy eating, party sex, public sex
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Month and a half since you were in Los Angeles. Month and a half since Miyeon saw you, Soyeon and Yuqi naked in her own room.
You thought about it often; her reaction had been hilarious to say the least, but you were afraid that it would change your relationship with her in some way. Luckily that didn't happen. However, every time you saw her you couldn't help but remember that day. You were sure the same thing happened to her.
When the recordings of the Queencard and Allergy music videos were finished, you returned with the girls back to Korea and everything continued as usual. To no one's surprise, Queencard became such a hit that it gave the girls a PAK. An achievement like this, desired by so many groups and artists within the country, was not something that was achieved every day. It deserved celebration.
You had already had a small meeting at Soyeon's apartment to drink and do karaoke, but the idea for something bigger came from Minnie: the only person among them capable of spending absurd amounts of money without the slightest remorse. Her idea was to organize a big party, with a multitude of idols and their respective companions—if they had them—as main guests. It seemed crazy to you, but neither Soyeon nor the rest of the girls thought it was a bad idea.
Although Minnie was the leader of that initiative, the rest of the girls, in her eagerness to participate, convinced her to also help with the expenses. This is how they inaugurated the fund from which all the money destined solely and exclusively for the party would come. You, of course, couldn't contribute anything even though Soyeon was always in charge of giving you everything you needed; the amount of money you earned was tiny compared to the current most famous group in Korea. You had no choice but to help with all the logistics, at least.
No expenses of any kind were spared: they hired private security personnel, apparently among the best. They also bought alcoholic beverages of all kinds, snacks and sweets to fill the cupboards, and a sophisticated sound system. The jewel in the crown was the place that was rented for the event: a big house located in an exclusive neighborhood under construction in Yongin-si, a city located 40 kilometers south of Seoul.
The fund was made up of all the girls, but Minnie was responsible for all that uncontrollable spending. The speech she used as an excuse was that 'the fund would never fall short as long as she was the main investor.' You couldn't argue against that, besides, it was her problem.
You were with Soyeon like a limpet, glued to her at all times, doing preparations and errands everywhere. Aside from this, a big part of your job—or rather your girlfriend's—was making calls to every entertainment company you could think of to fill them in on the details. The big hook that Soyeon had going for her was that they wouldn't have to worry about security and privacy issues. Some bigwigs objected and dismissed the idea as crazy almost immediately, but in these cases Soyeon used her influence to get CUBE's own staff—who had no choice but to obey the person who fed them—to convince them in person.
So, with a bit of tug-of-war all the corresponding permissions were obtained, and invitations began to be sent to every possible idol in the girls' contact book. If your calculations were correct, by the end of that day around 60 people had been invited. That's not counting the possible companies that each one will bring.
What a mess.
"Hey, remember what I told you that night with Minnie?" Soyeon asked you.
You were in her apartment, sitting on the couch with the table in front of you full of papers and folders. You had been making expense calculations and adjusting budgets, and then sending the documents to Minnie. After a couple of hours Soyeon had gotten up to get cups of coffee and take a break.
You sipped the steaming energizing nectar, a pen held to your ear.
“Huh…” you thought about it for a moment. "The thing about...?"
"Aha." she nodded, crossing her legs, the coffee cup in her hand.
"Yeah, I remember. Why?"
Soyeon leaned forward, arms crossed over her knee.
"Because this will be the perfect opportunity to make Miyeonie take the bait." she said, lowering her voice, as if someone else, in the apartment where it was just the two of you, was going to listen.
You had had few interactions with Miyeon since that day, but all of them were normal, pleasant. Of course you acted like she hadn't seen your dick a month and a half ago, but you were sure she thought about it every time you talked, because every time she zoomed out looking down. You didn't know if she was looking where you thought she was looking, but she was, which was suspicious enough.
"And how do we plan to do that?" you said.
"Bringing her to a point where she can't resist. Cook her over low heat." She took a sip of her coffee.
You hesitated.
"She's not like Minnie or Yuqi. She's not easy to corrupt."
"And you're right, but," she held up a finger and set the coffee cup down next to a folder. "It's easier to make her give in on her own."
You wrinkled your forehead.
"What are you supposed to mean by that?"
"You'll see, darling," she patted your knee. "you will see."
—A week later—
Getting ready for an event where everyone was more attractive than you was a pain in the ass.
The day finally arrived. A Saturday night. You and Soyeon got ready at her apartment; three long hours that seemed eternal while Soyeon took even more time than you to choose what to wear. More than once you were honest with her and gave her the go-ahead for many outfits, but she just kept dismissing them. In the end she opted for a short black dress with long sleeves, wide wrists and pointed shoulder pads. She adorned her neck with a necklace of black pearls, and on her feet she wore wide, high platform heels.
The dress code was elegant, and the color was black. That was supposed to make things easier, but it didn't. You were Jeon Soyeon's partner, you just couldn't look dull.
You already had the complete outfit: black cotton sweater, high-waisted dress pants, and wide-soled formal shoes; but you were missing something, you could tell at a glance what it was, so Soyeon took you out of the house and bought you a nice leather blazer to wear over it. Now you were perfect for the occasion.
After an hour and a half by car you arrived at the neighborhood in question.
There were rather very few inhabited houses around; everything was in the process of being remodeled, and all the residences that had already been put up for sale were at least three blocks away in the case of the closest one. One of these houses was the one that stood in front of you, but the girls had only rented it for two nights. It was a masterstroke, not only were you out of the eye of the hurricane, but within that same block no one was going to be able to bother you.
As soon as you got out of the car you saw Minnie in the doorway, talking to two tall, robust men dressed in suits. You moved to the lower sidewalk and walked past the garage door until you stood behind the men. Soyeon cleared her throat, and they immediately moved aside to make way for you.
You and Soyeon greeted Minnie—who also looked spectacularly luxurious, in a black top and skirt and a black feather coat—and walked through the gate to stand behind her.
The men were the heads of security, who repeated the information they had given to Minnie so that she would be aware as well. Basically, a surveillance perimeter had been set up around the house to monitor any suspicious movement and act immediately against a potential photographer. You doubted how legal that last one thing was, but they seemed like completely professional people. Besides, you trusted Soyeon and Minnie's judgment.
After the explanation, one of the men left and the other stayed as a doorman, with an iPad with the guest list in his hand. You three went inside.
"Damn, you've worked on it, haven't you?" you asked Minnie, as you walked through the front entrance and into the living room.
She turned to look at you with a sneaky, almost arrogant smile.
"What did you think, that we were going to invite half of the industry here and not have security well covered?" she raised an eyebrow.
The living room space was divided into two zones: the left side, with doors leading to a small private dining room and a small space that led to a bathroom and a guest bedroom; and the central part, where you were standing, with an opening that offered a view of the second floor ceiling, from which hung a set of circular lamps that floated at least two meters above your heads.
The entire front part of the living room was glass panels facing the yard, where Yeh Shuhua was taking selfies and taking photos of the mountain scenery. Minnie went to sit on the large sofa installed behind one of the wooden beams, but you went through the door on the right to get to the kitchen. There you met Yuqi, with whom you exchanged a few words while you drank more than necessary glasses of cold water.
There were no traces of the leading star down there, so you went up to the second floor. The master bedroom was just up the stairs, behind a door on the right. There you found her, standing in front of a tall floor mirror; she fixed the short dress she was wearing, adjusting the thin straps with which it was held around her neck.
The aura of confidence that she emanated was one of the most attractive things she had in her arsenal. That, of course, is not counting a beautiful pair of legs and killer shoulders. One side of her shiny black hair fell in front of her left shoulder, and the other fell behind her right. Half of her back was exposed, a sight for which you had to thank the almighty himself.
She looked at you sideways and smiled at her reflection in the mirror. She then took out a lipstick from a small bag.
"You could at least knock on the door," she said, putting on lipstick. "I could have been in my panties."
"And what would have been wrong with that?" Soyeon replied, walking behind her to sit in the corner of the gigantic bed.
You put your hands in your pants pockets and stood five feet behind Miyeon, looking her up and down. She glanced at you through her reflection, and to your surprise she winked at you.
"Well, that would have been a pretty unfair way to get revenge for what happened in L.A."
Your gaze was lost and your thoughts went blank, not expecting her to take out that dirty cloth so soon. You stayed quiet for a second until Soyeon evaded the topic.
"My goodness, woman," she said, looking her up and down. "You look fucking beautiful."
"Yeah." You nodded. "Nothing new about you tho, but something tells me you know you'll have competition today huh?"
Miyeon adjusted her earrings and turned to look at you. She raised both eyebrows as if you had said the most absurd thing in the world.
"Competition?" she asked, amused. "Ha! Who's going to compete with me? That's ridiculous."
Soyeon laughed.
"At levels of egocentrism, well, quite a few people, you're right about that." she said before standing up.
"Your boyfriend's eyes don't say the same," Miyeon gave you a look and turned towards the door with a mischievous smile. "I'll wait for you downstairs."
Soyeon waited for Miyeon to come out of the bedroom before standing in front of you and look at you with a raised eyebrow.
"What?" you asked.
"Couldn't you be a little more sneaky?"
"But what did I do!" you protested.
"Yeah yeah, forget it," she said with a swing of her hands. "Listen to me carefully," she grabbed your face. "I won't be able to be with you for the entire party, unfortunately I have to play my role as hostess and I can't leave the guests unattended. Anyway, I'll be going with you frequently, so don't worry."
You nodded throughout her explanation, and did so again as you grabbed her waist.
"Yeah, don't worry about me, I think I can acclimatize well." You leaned down to peck her lips. She gave you another one immediately and looked into your eyes.
"Hey, don't forget," she lowered her voice. "This is your perfect opportunity to spend time with Miyeonie. Golden opportunity, actually."
The music began to boom from downstairs, getting louder with each passing second. It seemed like they were testing how high they could go without making it unbearable.
"I don't promise anything. That woman looks innocent but she's… scary."
"I was too when you met me," she objected. "And now I'm taking you late at night to the mall to buy you a jacket."
You and her shared a laugh, gave each other one last kiss before leaving the bedroom and headed downstairs.
The music resonated throughout the house through an interconnected series of powerful speakers installed at different points on the ground floor, connected to a main sound system located on the yard porch. Yuqi and Shuhua were in front of it fiddling with things on the console, since they were in charge of the playlist. The two of them had a pretty solid taste in music, so you were calm about that.
Soyeon left you to go talk to Minnie, leaving you alone with Miyeon at the bottom of the stairs. Kanye West's Gold Digger started playing.
She turned to look at you.
"I'm going to go take some photos, are you coming with me?" she asked.
"I mean I don't have much to do in here, come on," you gestured with your chin towards the yard.
Miyeon walked ahead of you, you followed her from behind. Soyeon's gaze was fixed on the two of you for a few seconds, but she didn't take long to hide it.
As you walked out onto the porch you gave Shuhua a friendly tap on the back of the head in greeting. You had to run away so she wouldn't kick your ass in response.
Miyeon took you to the side of the house, where there was a dining area covered by a large patio umbrella. You walked ahead and pulled out one of the black chairs for her. She giggled.
"Woah, what a gentleman," she said, taking a seat.
"I know right?" You sat next to her and left your phone on the table. "I'm clearly a different breed."
"Oh yeah?" She raised both eyebrows and laughed again.
You nodded your head slowly, sinking into the seat.
"Yeah, there are few like me left in the world you know?"
"Right," she nodded as well, pulling her phone out of her clutch. "That's appropriate then, if you're going to be my company for the night you must be one of those."
She entered the camera on her phone and started taking selfies. You stared at her, your hands inside your jacket pockets.
"As long as you let me be, I'll be delighted."
"It's not like I have a choice," she said without looking at you, doing different poses and angles. "Sana is on tour and Jiwoo has a busy schedule."
"Ouch, that means I'm the last option."
She turned to look at you with a confused expression.
"Don't talk nonsense, silly." She looked back at the screen. "You're far from being a last option. Besides, I need few things on a night like this, and you can fulfill all of them more than well."
You raised your eyebrows and tilted your head, nodding.
"May I know what those things you are talking about are?"
Miyeon put the phone down and looked you up and down. Again, she stayed looking down for too long, but when you tried to follow her gaze she quickly raised it.
When she was about to answer you, you realized that there was beginning to be movement inside the house. The guests had begun to arrive.
From your seats you saw how the yard began to fill with people that you had only seen through a screen or from far away during your work. Miyeon didn't look fazed about it, but it was overwhelming for you. On top of that, it got worse when some idols came up to greet Miyeon: Wendy from Red Velvet, Jiwon and Seoyeon from Fromis, Mingyu and DK from Seventeen, Sehun from EXO, Eunwoo from Astro and even Somi herself, to name a few.
At one point you realized how truly gigantic the industry really was, as the place was packed with people. And that didn't even represent 20% of all of them. But you were sure that every big shot that could be there, was.
There were few who went with a non-famous person, you could count them on the fingers of both hands. One of them was Isa from STAYC, who was arm in arm with a foreign guy who seemed very familiar to you, but you didn't know where from. They were talking to Minnie and Ryujin, with whom you knew Isa was friends.
While you looked in that direction your vision was obstructed by Soyeon, who was accompanied by some of her close friends that you didn't know until now. Somi was behind her, as were Elkie, Sorn, and Yeeun, the three former CLC members. She formally introduced you to everyone. They were kind enough to you, but that didn't make you feel any less like a little ant in the middle of a metropolis. You still seemed confident and fun on the outside, or at least you tried to.
She left with them, and she left you and Miyeon alone again.
You stood up and wandered around the house, striking up short conversations—or rather Miyeon—with several of her friends, many of whom had already gone to say hello previously. By then you had already started drinking. You two drank from thermal mugs to make it more comfortable while you went from here to there. Yours had vodka and lemon soda, and Miyeon's had white rum and watermelon juice.
You hadn't been drinking for long, you had barely finished a drink and you had just finished refilling your mugs. But you already noticed that Miyeon was behaving slightly differently, she seemed eager to move her body, you noticed it while you were starting a small conversation about your favorite vocalists.
"Wait a minute," you interrupted her, while she was talking about Christina Aguilera. "Wanna dance?"
Miyeon tilted her head and looked at you as if you had guessed the lottery number. You decided not to point out how much it showed on her.
"Oh, actually… yeah,” she nodded. “Come on," she smiled, and she took your hand to lead you inside the house.
The heart of the party was there. If outside it seemed like the place was at maximum capacity, inside you felt like you were in rush hour in Seoul.
You made your way through the crowd, Miyeon leading the way as she held your hand. Having that point of view was kind of comforting: all those people you saw on screens, shiny and seemingly perfect, being ordinary people. There was nothing new under the sun, it was evident that these young people enjoyed their private lives as much as anyone else. But being there, meters—even less—from them, made you forget that they were famous people. That made you feel more comfortable.
Miyeon led you to a corner of the living room, near the stairs leading to the second floor. You stood with your back against the wall, and Miyeon turned her back to you to corner you against it.
You had four guys from NCT Dream nearby, but you only recognized two: Mark and Jisung; you knew the other two, but you couldn't remember their names. They were talking to two girls you didn't know even by face and to Sehun from EXO. They all gave small polite bows to Miyeon and went about their business.
You weren't dancing as such at first, you were just moving subtly to the rhythm of the music while you drank and enjoyed the atmosphere. She just made sure that you were pressed against the wall at all times, so that you could soak in the scent of her hair and the warmth of her body as much as possible.
She turned her head and leaned closer to your ear.
"Won't Soyeonie be upset if she finds us like this?" she asked.
You thought about it for a moment and let out a chuckle.
"No, I don't think so," you shook your head.
"Great, then it's my time to check something."
Miyeon pressed her body against yours, her ass, firm under her short dress, rubbing against your bulge. You let out a sly smile, realizing that your mission was not going to be as difficult as you expected.
"Hmm… even this way it feels really good against my ass," she continued, then took a sip of her drink. "Come on, let's dance."
She had dared, now you had to dare too.
You wrapped your hand around her waist, placing it right in the center of her abdomen, which she didn't seem to mind. You didn't want to get hard, but despite your efforts you were sure she ended up feeling the firm bulge press against her.
You danced for a couple of songs. Nothing too flashy or risqué, but you remained close during every second. You were lying if you didn't say that you wanted to bury your face in that long, slightly sweaty neck, or kiss those pretty lips with the aftertaste of liquor on them, but you couldn’t rush.
You were forced to stop when Yuqi appeared in the crowd. Her gaze dropped to your hand on Miyeon's abdomen. She raised her eyebrows in surprise, but she didn't say anything about it.
"Hey, Soyeon sent me to find you!" she said. "We will hold a hate convention towards CUBE."
Miyeon jumped away from you and smiled broadly at Yuqi.
"I'm in!" She looked at you and offered you her hand. "Come on!"
She was the happiest you had seen her all night. That said a lot about the experience of those girls under the yoke of a disgusting company. Of course you took her hand and followed Yuqi.
Yuqi led you back to the side alley of the house. In the dining area, where you and Miyeon were before, Soyeon and Minnie were sitting along with a good number of people you already knew beforehand: Elkie, Eunbin, Yeeun, Sorn, Dawn, Wooseok, Kino, Sanghah, Juhyeon and Hina. All former, or idols under CUBE Entertainment. It was going to be a more than entertaining talk.
"Hello everyoneee!" Miyeon greeted, taking a seat in a free chair. You sat on the side. "Where is Shuhua?"
"We have no idea," Soyeon responded from across the table.
"The last time we saw her she was with a guy I don't know, three girls from STAYC, Hanni from New Jeans and... her name is Rei, right?" Yeeun said next to Soyeon, looking at Lightsum's Hina, who was also Japanese.
"Aha," Hina nodded.
"Oh, I just saw her with Hanni and Isa in the dining room," said Yuqi sitting on your left. "I didn't see the other guy or the other three."
"And why didn't you tell her to come with us?" Elkie asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Of course I did!" Yuqi protested. "But you know how that girl is, she didn't listen to me."
"It doesn't matter girls," Soyeon said. "That shouldn't be an impediment for us."
Of course, the main subject of the conversation was CUBE and why they were a huge garbage company.
You didn't have much or practically anything to contribute to the conversation, since you weren't even an employee within that company or had any connections of any kind beyond the girls. Even so, they came to you from time to time to find out what someone's point of view was like from the outside, so you enriched the conversation anyway.
Listening to their experiences was heartbreaking for you. They had all been through horrible, unfair treatment, but you were surprised by how lightly everyone talked about it. You even noticed that they took it with a certain amount of humor. You couldn't blame them, after all it was a very natural defense mechanism in everyone, but you knew how they felt. In the end you all agreed on the same thing: CUBE deserved the worst.
Over time—about an hour or an hour and a half—the group began to dissolve piece by piece, either because they were going to dance, because they were going to refill their drinks, or because they were going to talk to other people at the party.
Soyeon also left, telling you that she also wanted to spend some time with her Lightsum hoobaes. She gave you a kiss and winked before leaving with Sanghah, Juhyeon and Hina.
In the end, only you, Miyeon, Yuqi and Minnie were left at the table.
"Now why are you two so close together all of a sudden?" Minnie asked cross-legged.
"Yeah," Yuqi nodded. "I can count the times I saw you together during these months."
You were about to jump to your defense, but Miyeon beat you to it, placing her hand on your right thigh.
"He's just looking out for me," she said. "You know, neither Sana nor Jiwoo can be with me today," she pouted and looked at Yuqi. "I thought you would know what a good company he is."
As she said that last sentence she slowly moved her hand up your thigh and squeezed it very close to your crotch, even touching your bulge with the side of her hand. You couldn't say a single word, you were frozen.
Yuqi opened her eyes wide. You noticed that her cheeks turned into an intense blush and that she shifted nervously in the seat.
Minnie wrinkled her brow and looked at Yuqi with a raised eyebrow.
"What is she talking about?" she asked.
Yuqi looked at you, looking for help. You just shook your head. She then looked at Minnie.
"Uh… oh!" She pretended someone was calling her from behind you. "Chenle is calling me!"
She stood up and ran with small jumps around the table, grabbing the skirt of her dress so as not to trip.
"Wah! And Xiaoting unnie too?" she said again, as if her flight had not been false enough already.
The three of you looked at her as she left, in disbelief. She didn't end up going anywhere. She stood in the middle of the yard looking for one of the people she had just named, but when she didn't see anyone she quickly went into the house.
"Very well, I won't be anyone's third wheel," Minnie said as soon as she locked eyes with you. "Have a good time, cuties."
Minnie stood up and blew you both a kiss before leaving as well. Only then did Miyeon remove her hand from your thigh. You looked at her, narrowing your eyes.
"What are you playing, Cho Miyeon?" you asked.
She turned to look at you with an innocent expression.
"Huh?" She was playing dumb. "I only said that because I know how much fun you guys had in L.A."
"A certain part of me caused so much fun, can you imagine what I'm talking about?"
Miyeon put a finger to her lips and wrinkled her forehead, pretending to think. In the end she shook her head.
"The truth is that I have no idea, I'll try to search my memory to see if I remember anything."
"I could help you with that, don't you think?"
"Yeah," she nodded, looking into your eyes. "I'm sure you could."
"Do you want to go inside?" You gestured towards the house.
"Yeah!"
She pushed the chair back and stood up, but when she put one foot away from it she 'tripped' and fell sitting on her side right on top of your bulge. You instinctively held her waist. Her sexy little waist.
"Oops," she said, her face inches from yours. "The heels played dirty on me."
"Thank god you landed in a safe place, then," you said, looking at her lips and then at her sideboob inside her dress.
Miyeon nodded slowly, holding onto your shoulders.
"Very comfortable, too," she added, looking at your lips. "I wouldn't mind falling here more times."
Your lips were very close to each other. You thought it was time. You could smell her breath, hot and tempting. She approached you, squeezing your shoulders with her fingers. But just as your lips touched, a commotion meters behind you interrupted you. You turned to look.
It turned out that some guys, among whom you recognized three from The Boyz and a couple from Enhypen, had brought out a ping pong table—god knows where from—and were installing it there, along with a bunch of party glasses and a ping pong ball. One of them had a bottle of vodka in his hand, which he placed in the center of the table before starting to play.
Miyeon turned her gaze to you.
"Do you want to go play?" she asked.
"I would like to play with you, not gonna lie."
She raised an eyebrow and grabbed your face, her lips pressed into a mischievous smile. She scrutinized your face and ran her thumb over your bottom lip.
"Later..." she said. "I don't feel horny enough yet."
"No rush, then," you smiled.
You made an attempt to kiss her, but she pressed her index finger against your lips and slowly shook her head before standing up. The damn proud smile she wore on her face only made you want her more.
Reluctantly you stood up and walked with her to where the crowd was gathering around the game. There you met Shuhua, accompanied by Isa and Hanni. Soon they were joined by who you assumed was the guy Yeeun told you about; with him came Yoon, Seeun and Rei. You spent another little effort trying to figure out where you knew him from, and finally your mind clicked: you knew him from a viral clip of him playing Fortnite, he was a famous English-speaking streamer.
Once you took off the weight of knowing who he was, you didn't pay him any more attention. You focused on beating Cho Miyeon at beer pong.
She was kicking your ass in a somewhat humiliating way. You didn't know whether to associate it with beginner's luck or the discouraging fact that, at that moment, the universe was against you. Out of 10 balls you could score, maybe you got 3 or 4. Miyeon scored 8 of those 10.
Every gulp of vodka burned your throat and made you wrinkle your nose. It went down your entire body too quickly, as it didn't take long for you to feel dizzy. You needed a break, so you motioned for Miyeon to stop and move aside. This was a roundabout way of accepting defeat, and she didn't hesitate to tease you for it.
"Are you ok?" she asked between silly laughs, her hand on your shoulder.
You looked at her with a frown. You noticed her flushed cheeks, a sign that the alcohol was also affecting her.
"Fuck yes, perfectly," you replied, concentrating on not losing your center of gravity. "Since when the hell are you the Stephen Curry of beer pong?"
Miyeon laughed harder and hugged your neck, almost making you fall backwards with her. You wrapped your right arm around her waist and anchored your right foot behind you.
"Beginner's luck, I guess?" she said in your ear.
Yeah, that was the answer.
"Your beginner's luck just destroyed me," you grabbed her waist and subtly pushed her away because you really felt like you were going to fall.
"Let's eat something in the kitchen, that will help," she said with her hands on your chest.
"I hope you're right, come on."
You let Miyeon pull you with her. You had no choice but to trust her and let her guide you, since your body couldn't coordinate movements with your brain very well at all.
When you got to the kitchen you found at least a dozen people pouring drinks or mixing them as if they were in some kind of bizarre laboratory. Miyeon pushed everyone out of your way just with her presence, and the first thing she did when you arrived in front of the refrigerator was push you back against it.
"Wait a minute, you're in all your senses right?" she asked, both of her hands on the refrigerator on either side of your head.
You frowned. What a random question.
"Uh… yeah?" you said. "I mean, my motor sk…."
Before you could continue speaking Miyeon grabbed you by the neck and crashed her lips against yours.
Surprised and still confused, you wrapped both arms around Miyeon's waist and reciprocated her kiss. You felt that all that preparation had been worth it; her lips felt delicious, with an addictive aftertaste that made you want to go deeper and deeper. She granted you that pleasure, adding her tongue to make clear what an excellent kisser she was.
While you pressed her body against yours and made the gesture of lowering one of your hands to her ass, something happened that completely took you out of your bubble: Miyeon pushed you to the side, opened the refrigerator and took out a box of Choco Pies .
She pulled away from your lips and looked into your eyes, showing you the box with a little smile, as if nothing had happened.
"Do you want a Choco Pie?" she asked innocently.
You stayed silent for a few seconds, trying to solve the indecipherable enigma that Cho Miyeon was.
"Yeah..." you nodded, looking at the box. "Sure."
Miyeon took your hand, closed the refrigerator and led you to the area on your left: an extension of the kitchen that housed the dining room and some appliances and also led to the yard.
You sat on two empty chairs and began to eat the Choco Pies while you saw many of those present making fools of themselves. Among them was Yuqi, dancing with Elkie, Chenle, and Yiren. You put your hands to your foreheads when she tripped over her own dress and fell on her butt against the grass.
About twenty minutes and several Choco Pies later you already felt composed and ready to continue, so you went with Miyeon to the kitchen and refilled your mugs with more drink. This time you put less alcohol in yours, not wanting to push your limits further.
"Let's dance again, handsome?" Miyeon asked, looking at you with mesmerizing eyes.
You grabbed her waist, pressed the side of her body against yours and gave her a small kiss that she gladly accepted.
"Only if you promise not to hold back this time," you said against her lips.
"Oh don't worry, I won't," she assured, with a smile that should have terrified you, but instead turned you on.
This time it was you who led the way to the living room. The corner where you had previously danced was occupied by a couple who were kissing. You noticed that they were Chaeyoung from Fromis and Soobin from TXT. Who was going to say it.
You went to the opposite side of the room, just below the threshold of the passage that led to the bedroom and bathroom doors. There you were clearly blocking the way for anyone who wanted to enter, but you didn't think about it—or rather, you did but you didn't care.
Now you and her reversed her roles: her back against the wall and you cornering her against it. She wrapped her arms around your neck and you grabbed her waist. You began to dance face to face, with your lips inches from each other at all times.
Every few seconds you let your lips touch in a fleeting kiss. Your hands began to run up and down Miyeon's waist, who gently stroked the hair at the nape of your neck. You discreetly placed one of your hands behind her, on her lower back, and then lowered it to grab her buttock. It felt too good not to do it again with the other one.
The song changed to A Milli by Lil Wayne, a moment that Miyeon took advantage of to turn around and press her ass against your cock. She began to move it like you knew she knew how, making wonderful use of her hips to rub against you to the rhythm of the music.
You buried your face in her neck and breathed against it, clinging firmly to her waist as she moved her ass against you. You heard a gasp from her, and then she went against all your expectations: she reached between your bodies and reached down to grab the now hardened bulge in your pants.
You hid the surprise as best you could, in order not to draw too much attention from the people around you (they didn't give a damn anyway). You put your free hand on Miyeon's abdomen, while she squeezed your cock and massaged it through your pants. You lowered your hand to try to reach her crotch, but she gave you a pat to stop you in your tracks.
“Hold it there, cowboy,” she said in your ear. "If you want dinner, let's go upstairs."
You smiled from ear to ear and licked your lips.
"Are you horny enough yet?" you murmured, peppering the side of her face with kisses.
She gave your cock another firm squeeze.
"Pretty much," she simply replied, then bit your bottom lip.
You took a step back and grabbed her by the forearm to separate her from the wall. Then you took her hand and went to the other side of the room, towards the stairs. You went up and tried to quickly go to the master bedroom, however, you ran into an unexpected problem.
It was locked from the inside.
"Huh?" Miyeon said, frowning. "Did you close it when you came down?"
“Nope,” you shook your head. "In fact I'm pretty sure I left it open."
You tried opening it once more and then pressed your ear against the cold wood. You couldn't hear anything inside. It was to be expected: whoever was inside must have had a good scare when they saw the knob turning unsuccessfully. They were trying not to get caught.
"It doesn't matter," you said, renouncing. "Let's go to the other one."
As you walked through the short hallway that led to the other side of the second floor, you couldn't help but think about Soyeon. You were making a move without her, a giant one, how was she going to react if she found out about it? You didn't think about the consequences at the time: you were so clouded in your desire for Miyeon that you took it as a secondary problem, something you would deal with later.
You reached the end of the corridor to enter the bedroom, which luckily was open and empty.
That bedroom wasn't much smaller than the main one, in fact, they were practically the same: both with dressers and beds of the same size. The only differences at first glance were that the master bedroom had a small library room and was better furnished.
It wasn't even important. The last thing you and Miyeon paid attention to was the quality of the bedroom. You only needed a bed, and even that was optional.
As soon as you locked the door behind you, you left the mugs on a dresser, and Miyeon lunged at you with her arms around your neck to kiss you.
Without the annoying restriction of being surrounded by people you now let yourself go, wrapping your arms around Miyeon's waist and pressing her against your body in the middle of a kiss that lacked tenderness.
Miyeon clung to your neck with both hands, breathing heavily as a result of the intense exchange of saliva. You were moving stumbling to the right, towards one of the side edges of the bed, which Miyeon collided with and fell back onto the mattress. You fell on top of her.
"Would you let me eat your pussy, Miss Cho?" you asked, biting her bottom lip and pulling on it.
Miyeon let out a tiny moan and pulled the jacket off your shoulders. Her eyes burning with desire fixed on yours.
"Eat whatever you want from me," she replied with a gasp, bringing one knee up to rub against your crotch.
You dove into her pretty, soft neck, showering it with kisses as much as possible.
"Fuck… watch your words, I can use them against you," you muttered against the end of her neck, almost touching her collarbone.
That had been an invitation that you did not hesitate to reject.
Not wanting to leave her neck too quickly, you stayed there for a few more long seconds, just kissing it and filling it with eager hickeys that were soon reflected in light dark marks. Miyeon just let you work, rubbing her thigh against your cock.
You put your hands under her and reached behind her back, to untie the small knots that held the straps of her dress to her neck. With her dress already loose at the top you were able to slowly lower it, covering each new area of bare skin with deep, wet kisses. Before releasing her tits you went up again to her marked collarbone, and one last time to her neck. You went back down, and with a single pull you revealed a pair of perfect perky breasts.
You didn't hesitate for a second to put one of them in your mouth.
"Hfmmm..." Miyeon moaned, bringing her hands to your hair to tangle her fingers there.
You grabbed your right arm behind her waist and lifted her forward to bring her further into the center of the bed, sucking on her nipple and licking it up and down. She kicked off her heels and hugged her legs to your waist, as she let out small moans.
Because of this, her dress went up to the elastic area that kept it attached to her abdomen. Her beautiful pair of legs were now fully exposed to you. You placed a hand on each of her thighs, squeezing them on the underside with your fingers and then rubbing them up and down.
After leaving one nipple covered in saliva, you moved to the next. Miyeon's moans, although still small, became more desperate with every second that you didn't touch her. You brought your right hand to her crotch, rubbing her slit with your thumb over her soaked lace panties.
"Fuck, are you going to eat me or not?" she asked between gasps.
You lifted your mouth from her nipple and smiled to look at her. Her cheeks were burning with blush.
"Are we needy, Princess Cho?" you asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Yeah..." she nodded slowly, looking at you. "Too much, so please give me what I want."
"What you want? How do you know it's not what I want too?" you said, giving kisses to the outline of her tits.
"Because it's obvious," she replied. "How can you not want to eat a princess's pussy?"
You should have seen that response coming. You laughed, and lowered the top of her dress even further, until it joined the bottom. Now every part of her dress was bunched just above her navel.
You freed yourself from the embrace of her legs and moved back onto your knees to get comfortable. With your face now at the level of her sexy belly, you covered the lower part of her abdomen with a lot of kisses that you eagerly enjoyed, and later reached her crotch.
You grabbed her panties by the curb and pulled them off her legs. You were met with a perfectly shaved and beautiful pussy, soaked in a light layer of shiny fluid, the product of so much foreplay. Miyeon held her breath, thinking you would attack her pussy all at once, but instead you moved towards her inner thighs.
"Oh, come on!" she whimpered, hitting the mattress with her clenched fists.
You had to hide your smile behind her thigh, which you kissed very slowly on purpose. Her hips writhed with subtle movements, and her chest rose and fell in desperate breaths. You moved to her other inner thigh, now kissing so close to her pussy that she let out a high-pitched squeal, grabbed your hair and buried your mouth against her pussy herself.
"Fuck, finally." she said with a sigh of pure release.
Once you were there you couldn't just back out, you would let her win just this once.
Her pussy felt so good against your lips that you were afraid you would become addicted to the sensation. You started with soft kisses and sucks between her folds; then you moved up to her clit and licked it slowly, drawing deep moans from her.
Miyeon caressed your hair and tangled her fingers in it to give it little tugs. You gripped her thighs with both hands, holding them back so they wouldn't move as you picked up a gear. Now you could tell that you were eating her pussy properly.
"Oh yeah..." she moaned, arching her back slightly. "Just like that daddy!"
You certainly didn't expect that word attributed to you from her, but it didn't bother you, on the contrary it awakened a deep instinct in you: it was the sensation of wanting to make her your property, the wild desire to show yourself as a possessive animal.
You grunted in a short breather and wrapped your arms around her thighs, hugging them, to dive back into her wet pussy.
You began to devour her with hunger, driven by the uncontrollable desire of wanting to flood your ears with her beautiful moans of pleasure. Every time she let one out of her, your hands pressed firmly against the flesh of her thighs, and your mouth, as well as your tongue, moved in the most frantic ways possible.
Miyeon writhed on her mattress, both hands outstretched at her sides with her fingers crumpling the white sheets. She was trying to close her thighs around your head, but you simply wouldn't let her; instead, she grabbed onto your hair again to push you harder against her pussy.
"Don't you dare stop!" she screeched, her thighs shaking. "Keep going, keep going!"
Seconds later Miyeon reached her wonderful, electrifying orgasm. You let go of her thighs, and she instantly trapped your head between them to grind her hips against your face. You ate her all that little while, with long tasting licks and loving kisses as her peak slowly subsided.
“Oh my god…” she gasped, letting go of your head. "Take off your clothes. You deserve a good blowjob."
You got up so quickly that in a way you were even embarrassed.
You took off your shoes first, then you moved on to your sweater and finally your pants. Miyeon settled on her stomach, her head just above the edge of the bed. In front of her was your hard throbbing bulge, which almost ripped the fabric of your boxers in its eagerness to be released.
"Come on, show me that thing daddy," she said in a provocative tone, then approached your cock and kissed the outline.
You let her worship your cock for a few more seconds. You stared at her, mesmerized by how she pressed her lips against your shaft and balls, eager to receive more. Soon you would give her what she wanted: slowly pulling down your boxers so that your cock, once freed, would slap her pretty face.
She let out a loud breath of surprise. You smiled, holding your cock by the base to rest it flat on her face.
"Just like you remembered?" you teased.
“I think even better…” she replied, opening her mouth to slide her tongue out and press it against the back of your shaft. "I should have seen it closer that time."
Miyeon's lips and tongue moved into action; she took your cock in her hand to kiss the sides of it, highlighting each path of kisses with sensual licks. She looked up at you, kissing just below your tip before swirling her tongue there.
She made a move to take you into her mouth, but as soon as your tip passed the threshold of her lips she changed her mind and went down to your balls, using her hand to rub the first few inches of your shaft while she salivated them between sucks. You growled and clenched your fists, knowing well that this was a revenge.
"Fuck, is this really necessary?" you complained.
Miyeon let out a smile as she licked your balls and around your base.
"Are we needy, daddy?" she asked, in a mocking tone.
Damn woman.
‘You reap what you sow.’ There, helpless in the face of Miyeon's torturously slow advances, you understood that saying perfectly.
You stayed as still as you could stand, watching through gritted teeth as Miyeon teased you. She repeated the same damn movement without stopping, hoping that you would finally feel the warmth of her mouth. At least what she was doing felt good: by this point your entire shaft was covered in saliva thanks to the tireless sequence of kisses and licks.
But no, damn it. You needed more. And if she had given in to her own impulses, you wouldn't be shy about giving in to yours.
You grabbed a handful of her hair in your right hand and held her still, but she, perhaps anticipating that you would do that, immediately stuck out her tongue to greet you. She had beaten you again.
"You clever bitch..." you muttered, finally taking your cock inside her mouth.
Miyeon accepted you gladly, with a deep resolute moan. She wanted it, she was crazy about the idea of having you inside her mouth, but she just wanted to make you give in to your desperation. It felt like a chess game in which you had received a checkmate.
She sucked a few inches of your cock, her hand gripping the base. Her mouth felt so good that she made you gasp multiple times from the beginning; she moved it slowly, each time taking it further. Finally she stopped a couple of centimeters past the middle. She looked up, evoking pure lust from her dilated eyes and her flushed cheeks.
She pumped her head a few times, moaning around your cock before pulling out.
"I know you'd love to fuck my face..." she murmured, placing kisses on your tip. "But I waited a month and a half for this moment."
"Ah yeah?" you said, raising an eyebrow. "Then enjoy it, slut."
"That's what I plan to do… daddy," she said, adding rasp to her voice on that last word, before returning to your cock.
You gathered Miyeon's hair and held it with one hand behind her head, in a ponytail, to make her job easier.
She slurped your cock hungrily, as if she wanted to give truth to her words. She did it slowly, with sensual, noisy pumps that covered just over half of your shaft.
You let out soft moans, hypnotized by how Cho Miyeon's pretty lips moved faster and faster on your cock. You leaned forward slightly to grab her ass, giving each of her butt cheeks a small spank that made her moan.
From that position you did not hesitate to put your fingers between her buttocks, to rub between her folds and take them inside her. Miyeon let a small moan escape her and she pulled you out of her mouth for air, giving your cock a long lick along the underside to sink back in.
Your fingers pumped in and out of her tight pussy, as she moaned between the now intense bobs of her head. Her ponytail was still firm and taut in your fist; you used it to force her to take your entire cock in a rough and messy deepthroat.
Miyeon didn't expect it; she latched onto your thighs with prickly nails, struggling to minimize the coughing as the tip of your cock rubbed against the beginning of her throat. You didn't let her go soon, not until thick drops of saliva spilled from the corner of her mouth and fell to the ground between your feet.
Once satisfied, you decided to let her go, also releasing her ponytail so that her hair flowed freely down her back. She let her head fall down and brought her fist to her lips to let more coughs come out, between labored breaths. You leaned to the side to look at her, noticing that her eyes were watering.
You took your fingers out of her pussy, and with that same hand you grabbed her chin to make her look up.
"Would you like something, princess?" you asked in a whisper, running your thumb over her lip dripping with saliva.
"Yeah..." she started to say, taking your cock to rub it slowly. "I want you to put it inside me and fuck me... raw."
Driven again by your wildest instincts, you cradled her face in your hands and forced her to her knees, to share a steamy, sloppy kiss with her.
A few seconds later you grabbed her by the waist and made her turn around on her knees, then put your hands on the back of her neck and pushed her forward, so that she fell on her hands with her ass raised.
Miyeon's ass wasn't exactly the biggest, but it made up for it with a perfect shape and softness, like all of her; you spent a few seconds admiring it, rubbing your hands in circles on her buttocks, which you also squeezed before adding a strong spank to each one.
Miyeon squealed and leaned on her elbows. She looked at you over her shoulder, biting her lower lip.
"Enough teasing, fuck me already!" she demanded with a hint of desperation in her voice.
You smiled and applied another spank, harder. Miyeon screeched.
"You don't need to whine again, baby, I got you."
She spread her knees further and put her ass at the perfect height for you, making a beautiful arch with her lower back. Her pussy looked delicious, inviting you to destroy it. You grabbed her by her waist and pulled her back just a little, to grab your cock and press it between her folds.
As soon as she felt your tip rub against her pussy she leaned forward, away from you, and she gave you a stern look.
"What do you think you're doing?" she said. "Put on a condom right now, that's my only rule."
Coming from her, that didn't surprise you in the least. She might be one of the sluttyest members of the group, but you figured some degree of decorum she had to maintain.
"Fuck, it's okay, I'm sorry," you replied. "But don't look at me like that, I might cry."
You took a step back and picked up your pants from the floor. From it you took your wallet. You searched through the partitions until you finally found the condom; you opened it carefully, then threw the envelope on the floor and quickly put it on.
Now ready, you wasted no time and resumed your position behind Miyeon, standing in front of the edge of the bed. She returned her ass to the previous position, watching over her shoulder as you prepared yourself.
You looked into her eyes, and took your cock with one hand to bring it to her slit, where you made slight pressure forward to finally feel Miyeon's pussy slowly engulf you to the core.
She let out a loud moan and clutched at the sheets, her mouth open in an O shape and her brow furrowed as she stared into space. You held your breath, overwhelmed by how tight she felt around your shaft, which had already disappeared between her buttocks.
"God..." she muttered to herself, letting her head fall between her shoulders. "I have never felt anything like this. Please fuck me hard and show no mercy."
That was an easy task, it was your idea from the beginning after all.
The first pumps were slow, in order to stretch her walls as much as possible so that your cock would slide in more and more easily. It was a wonderful sight you never thought you would see: Cho Miyeon on her hands and knees, with her shiny hair falling down her back and her expensive dress wrapped around her waist, at the complete mercy of your cock.
Soon you demanded more of yourself, and she did the same with her eyes.
Happy to comply with her demands you moved your hips faster, making the crashes of your pelvis more pronounced and louder. You had one hand on her left buttock, which you squeezed tightly, and the other on her waist to keep her in place as you let yourself be carried away by your own desire.
Miyeon sighed contentedly, crumpling the sheets with her fingers and biting her lip with her eyes locked on yours. Her moans filled the room, becoming more frequent and uncontrolled as the seconds passed. She let her face fall, her cheek now pressed against the mattress. Her hair covered her face, but you, needing to look at her at all times, uncovered it.
"Harder daddy..." she moaned, pressing her open hands against the mattress. "Be fucking ruthless with me... I'm ready to take it."
The response you gave was a spank that reverberated throughout the room; multiple more like this followed, each with the sole intention of making her really sting. Soon her buttocks were each glowing an intense red color.
Miyeon screamed again and again, her body being shaken between violent thrusts. She grabbed all of her hair and brushed it behind her back, then looked over her shoulder at you and gave you a suggestive look. You got the message: you grabbed her hair in a ponytail to forcefully pull it back, making her raise her head.
With a strong push you rested for a few seconds, with slow but strong pumps that left Miyeon breathless. Then without warning you returned to hammering her pussy so hard that the bed wobbled. She let out a scream, loud and desperate.
"For God's sake, keep going!" Miyeon groaned, hitting the bed and clutching the sheets again. "I'm cumming daddy! Ahhhh!"
You dragged her to her peak in a matter of seconds, pulling her closer to you so you could grab her neck and lift her back, which you pressed against your chest as you fucked her with frantic thrusts.
Miyeon exploded; you surrounded her abdomen with one arm, and with the other hand you clung to her neck. You turned her face to kiss her, drowning out her loud screams against your lips. She moved her hips back, fucking herself against your cock while you held her upright with your arms.
When her orgasm had passed you let her fall like dead weight forward; with that your cock came out of her pussy, but not for long.
She had fallen stomach flat against the mattress; you took her right leg and flexed it upwards, leaving the other extended. Then you went back inside her, with one hand on her right buttock.
Miyeon, with glassy eyes, let out a small tired moan and just relaxed.
"Come on daddy..." she murmured, feeling you deep again. "Use me for your pleasure. Let my pussy drain you."
You were too turned on at that point to be able to formulate a response. A growl rose from your throat and came out through your clenched teeth, as you fucked her again with rapid pumps, this time up and down.
Miyeon allowed herself to be used as a sex doll, an insignificant piece of meat that you could use at will to fulfill your carnal desires. She was just panting, her mouth half open with her weak eyes fixed on yours and her body being brutally railed.
The tickling in your abdomen was the indication that you were approaching that long-awaited orgasm that you had been wanting all night. You pumped quickly, your veins showing on your neck and one on your forehead.
Just as you were going to cum you pulled your cock out of Miyeon, took off the condom with a hasty yank, and masturbated over her ass until your orgasm hit.
She let out a satisfied sigh, watching as multiple jets of thick semen came out of your cock and fell onto her buttocks; these were covered with the thick liquid, forming a viscous layer that reflected the light from the ceiling.
When you discharged each drop you let out a long breath and sat back on your ankles. Miyeon put one hand on her ass and with two fingers collected some of your cum to take it to her mouth.
"Mmm..." she said, tasting it and then swallowing it. "Thank you for not being a selfish bastard and cumming outside."
"I figured you'd want to taste some after begging me like a whore," you replied, catching your breath.
Miyeon gave a low giggle and lay down on her side, letting the rest of your cum fall from her buttock onto the mattress.
"I knew from the first moment that you would know how to use that thing," she looked at your cock, still throbbing, and then at you. "I have no doubt that Soyeonie and Yuqi had a blast."
"Oh yeah? Well you looked horrified, woman," you laughed.
"How would you react if you arrived at the room where you will sleep for the next few days and found three naked people on your bed?"
You thought about it for a moment, staring into space. You then shrugged, finding no fault with her logic.
"Yes, I thought so," she continued. "Now, can you please find something to clean me with?"
"There's no bathroom in here," you pointed out. "I have no idea what I can get you."
"Just look for some clean sheets in the dressing room, I'll use that."
You nodded and stood up to go inside the dressing room. You took out a thin black sheet from one of the drawers in the third closet at the back. When you returned to the bedroom you threw it at Miyeon, who hurried to clean herself.
She then invited you to lie down and cuddle together to take a break.
After about ten minutes—maybe a little more, since Miyeon's body felt very comfortable in your arms—you got up and dressed again. She did her best to look as presentable as before, giving her makeup a few minor touch-ups and combing her hair.
Once Miyeon was as pretty, elegant and superb as always, you took your mugs back and left the bedroom laughing.
"Did you have a good time?" said a high-pitched voice behind you, as you exited the small hallway that led to the glass railing area.
You and Miyeon almost died of a heart attack. You turned around. Leaning against the wall to the left of the hallway was Soyeon, with her arms crossed and one eyebrow raised, staring at you.
That was the closest you'd ever come to knowing how those condemned to be executed by guillotine felt.
Your heart beated fast and strong. You gulped and gave a small glance at Miyeon—who was a living reflection of yourself—before taking a step forward.
"Soyeon, I-"
She pushed herself away from the wall and raised her hand to interrupt you.
"Shut up you fool," she snapped, putting her arms on her hips. "I'm not mad."
You and Miyeon wrinkled your brows and exchanged glances.
"Aren't you?" you asked, looking back at Soyeon.
"No, on the contrary, I'm even hornier because of this," she looked at Miyeon, who avoided her gaze. "You loved that cock, huh? With all that daddy daddy daddy. I could hear your screams from here."
Miyeon's cheeks burned with blush, no longer in pleasure like before, but in shame. She stammered a few clumsy syllables, looking at the floor.
"I know you did," Soyeon cut her. "You don't need to say anything," she looked at you. "Walk back, come on," she ordered, gesturing toward the bedroom.
The two of you led the way back, with Soyeon behind, as if she were a teacher taking two unruly students to her office.
You walked back into the bedroom, embarrassed by the fact that you hadn't even bothered to fix it when you came out. The black sheet was still there, with a white glob exposed to the naked eye. Soyeon didn't say anything about it, but it was something else that caught her attention.
"A condom huh?" Soyeon asked with a giggle, picking up the torn envelope from the floor. "How responsible."
Miyeon couldn't find a rock to hide under to appease the embarrassment; she had cheeks so red that you could mistake her for a dull-colored apple.
"I always fuck with a condom, please shut up," she finally dared to say, crossing her hands on her belly.
"Ah, really?" Soyeon raised an eyebrow, approaching you after placing the envelope on the nightstand. "Adorable. But it takes all the fun out of it."
Soyeon jumped with her heels still on and clung to you with her arms and legs to crash her lips against yours. She took you by surprise, but you accepted it: wrapping your girlfriend's petit frame with your arms.
Her intentions were not unknown to you: you already knew her well enough to know that what she was looking for was for you to throw her into bed; but to give it a little twist you let yourself fall on your back, so that Soyeon fell on top of you.
"Guys... uhm," Miyeon said to your right, sitting on the corner of the bed as the two of you kissed. "Are you just gonna pretend I don't exist or what?"
You broke away from the kiss to look at Miyeon, but before you said anything, Soyeon put her hand over your mouth and made you look at her. Those eyes made the message clear to you without her needing to say anything: 'Shut your mouth.'
Normally, that woman always had an elaborate plan in her prodigious head, so you didn't question her, even though part of that plan included completely ignoring Miyeon.
It wasn't until Soyeon attacked your neck with kisses that your mind lit up. The memory of what she had told you hours before came to you: 'It's easier to make her give in on her own.' There, looking at the ceiling between gasps, everything made sense to you.
Mother of god, Soyeon was evil.
From that moment on everything happened very quickly: in a matter of a couple of minutes you and Soyeon were already completely naked; you had groped and kissed every corner of your body before the expectant eyes of Miyeon, who couldn't stop moving nervously in the corner of the bed. She wanted to get into the action, her eyes showed it, but she wouldn't be the one to take the step.
You had settled yourself in the center of the bed; Soyeon had an idea that only strengthened the desire she had to make Miyeon desperate: she had turned around on top of you, adopting a 69 position only for Miyeon to see her sucking your cock while you ate her pussy.
"I want to at least be touched by you, just a measly little finger, please!" Miyeon whimpered.
Soyeon took your cock out of her mouth—which she had been sucking with an uncontrollable frenzy—, reached out to grab her own panties, and shoved them roughly into Miyeon's mouth to shut her up.
Miyeon let out a moan with Soyeon's panties inside her mouth: a moan that was more like a complaint than anything else, but your girlfriend had done her job. Despite your limited vision—with Soyeon's entire ass and pussy in your face—you could notice that she was now undressing at record speed.
"Pleaseee!" Miyeon whined again. "Either of you two, I'm begging!"
When she received no response from either of you, she began to touch herself. Her patience was already bordering on non-existence, and you could understand it more than perfectly; the worst thing you could do to a person like her was to deprive her of the attention she demanded.
The constant and somewhat exaggerated moans that Soyeon emitted with your cock inside her mouth didn't help either. You were eating her with hunger and dedication, squeezing her ass in the middle of passionate licking.
Miyeon's moans, small and adorable, now joined Soyeon's; these intensified when you brought your girlfriend to her orgasm.
Her body writhed on top of yours; her muscles were tensing and her joints were shaking. She could not have taken your cock out of her mouth, in fact she never did when you made her cum in that position, but this time she did it just to torture Miyeon.
"Fuck me now!" she said, hoping that her turn would be next.
You thought that was your entrance onto the scene; Soyeon had already gotten off you and was sitting on your side. Miyeon's gaze immediately fell on your cock, soaked and throbbing; it was a predatory, eager look.
But the evil did not die, it did not disappear. It rested and woke up when it was poked with a stick.
"No one's going to touch you until you say the words, baby." Soyeon said, brushing her hair off her sweaty forehead and brushing it behind her back.
Miyeon frowned, tilting her head with her mouth open.
"Are you kidding me?" she asked. "What words?! Jeon Soyeon!"
Soyeon ignored her—again—and climbed on top of you. She rested her feet on either side of your hips on the mattress, facing away from you, and took your cock inside her with a single downward thrust. You, like her, moaned out loud.
Miyeon's pussy was tight, but nothing was a match for your girlfriend; it was simply another level of grip and constriction around your cock.
You held on to Soyeon's waist with your hands, while she jumped up and down on your cock in a reverse cowgirl position, so that Miyeon could see in detail how with each jump Soyeon took you in and out completely.
"What the fuck are you talking about, dammit!" Miyeon moaned, hitting the bed as she rubbed her clit in circles with her other hand. "I just want you to fuck me and treat me like the princess I am!"
No word from you two, just moans, the sound of flesh slapping against flesh, and a fluid-soaked cock moving in and out of a tight pussy.
Soyeon jumped non-stop, with the seemingly inexhaustible energy that characterized her. Her loose hair formed a curtain that prevented you from seeing your cock disappear between her legs, so you gathered it all into a ponytail and held it in your fist.
After a few seconds she suddenly stopped and looked at you over her shoulder.
"Fuck me, baby," she said, panting. "Fill me with that load."
You let go of her hair and brought your hands to her waist, then planted your feet on the mattress and pumped quickly up and down, intensifying your own pleasure and consequently, your moans.
Adding to the cacophony of lewd sounds coming from you and Soyeon were more moans from Miyeon, including the constant slapping of her palm against her pussy as she fingered herself.
If you were going to fill your girlfriend's pussy to give Miyeon a good show, you were going to do it in style.
You made Soyeon fall back with a tug on her hair, her back now pressed against your chest; then you lifted her legs up and hugged them around the back of her knees, and now fucked her in full nelson.
"Oh fuck yes baby," Soyeon groaned. "Fuck that tight little pussy, destroy it, fill it deep!"
Soyeon's words came true a few seconds later.
The aggressive and rapid pumps brought you too quickly to an intense orgasm; it electrified your entire body, causing you to be unable to stop moaning as you filled your girlfriend's pussy between slower pumps.
"God... it feels so warm, so fucking delicious." Soyeon said after a long moan.
The load was too big and thick, to the point that you felt your cum leak out of Soyeon's walls and down your shaft until it pooled around your base. For Miyeon, the shock must have been such that she even stopped fingering herself.
It was happening.
"For the love of God, I can't take it anymore!" she screamed out of nowhere, like she was about to cry. "Fuck the condom, I just want to be fucked and breeded right now! I'm begging!"
Soyeon nodded satisfied. The princess had relented.
"Then start by coming here and cleaning, you needy little whore." Soyeon said between pants.
The speed with which Miyeon lunged forward made her look like a jumpscare from Five Nights at Freddy's. It even made you laugh a little.
She herself took out your cock from inside Soyeon's pussy, to greedily clean both parts soaked with cum. First she licked and slurped every drop that leaked from inside your girlfriend's pussy, and later she moved on to your cock to lick it all over. Soon your entire load—which had not been small—was swallowed by her.
When the work was done Soyeon got off you and looked at you. She nodded, giving you the green light.
Damn, finally.
The first thing you did was sit up and wrap your arms around Miyeon's body, pressing her against you and kissing her. Miyeon moaned against your lips, running her hands all over your body; one of these went to your cock, only to rub it gently with her palm as she knew you should still be sensitive.
After a few seconds you grabbed her thighs and pushed her back. She fell face up, instinctively with her legs wide open; Soyeon attacked them with kisses and bites, and you went to the upper body, to eat her tits and kiss her from her neck to her abdomen.
Soyeon began to eat her pussy, eliciting a moan from her that could be translated into sincere gratitude. You meanwhile knelt on the side of Miyeon's face, took your cock in one hand and rubbed it all over her face.
“Fuck my pretty face daddy, please,” Miyeon moaned, kissing your cock and looking at you with a pair of glistening eyes.
"I thought you were never going to ask for it."
Miyeon opened her mouth and stuck out her tongue, you took your cock in there with a long sigh.
You grabbed the sides of her head with both hands and lifted her to turn her towards you; then you started moving your hips back and forth.
She moaned against your cock, which was going in and out almost all the way; the only thing stopping you from going all the way in with each pump was that little limit she had that you didn't want to push carelessly either.
Soyeon brought her to an orgasm too quickly, but that didn't stop the two of you; she continued to eat her out furiously, and you continued to fuck her mouth faster and harder.
Miyeon screamed with pleasure around your cock, which she also licked from behind with her tongue as it went in and out of her mouth. Her body shook between sharp spasms, her pussy grinding against Soyeon's mouth.
Eager to give her more pleasure, you leaned just enough to the right so you could reach out and rub her clit in quick circles, driving her even crazier.
She could no longer close her mouth around your cock due to the uncontrolled series of moans coming out of it, causing all of her saliva to spill out of her mouth and soak your shaft.
You grabbed a handful of her hair on the top of her head, using it to push her against your cock as you pumped, feeling yourself getting closer to cumming with each passing second.
Then Miyeon came again, twice as hard and twice as pleasurable for you to feel.
Soyeon had to make a tremendous effort to keep her pinned to the bed, holding her thighs. You on the other hand reached your peak after a few seconds, now cumming inside Miyeon's mouth.
“That's it, fuck…” you moaned, pumping slowly as you shot your cum down her throat. "Take it all, slut."
Miyeon swallowed your entire load diligently, even though she could barely control her body and the sounds emanating from her throat; you could hear the little chokes she had as she tried to swallow every drop.
"Damn, I need a break," you said between heavy breaths. You looked at Soyeon. "Honey, all yours."
You pulled out of Miyeon's mouth and went to lay your head on one of the pillows on the side of the bed. You made yourself as comfortable as possible, to enjoy the show that was coming.
Soyeon then left Miyeon's pussy, only to climb on top of her and straddle the princess's face. She moaned immediately, and you knew Miyeon's tongue had been the cause.
Unwilling to give Miyeon a break, your girlfriend leaned forward and took her two fingers inside her; you heard her muffled scream under Soyeon's ass, who held onto her thigh with her free hand, while with her other she quickly pumped her fingers.
"Mmm, come on princess, I know you know how to do it," Soyeon moaned after a couple of minutes, grinding her hips into Miyeon's face as she moved her wrist at supersonic speed.
You frowned, not knowing what she meant by that. But when you saw Miyeon raise her hips you knew, and you prepared accordingly.
After a few seconds Miyeon came, and an immense, pressurized squirt came out of her pussy; she wet you from your knee to part of your foot, also staining the sheets beneath her as the stream lost strength.
"What the fuck..." you muttered, watching as Miyeon's hips trembled. "Since when does she know how to do that?"
You received no response as the next one to cum was Soyeon. She held onto Miyeon's thighs and buried her face in her pussy, while she ground her trembling hips against her face.
The next few seconds were probably just muffled moans against flesh, until Soyeon, already tired, got off Miyeon with a heavy, satisfied sigh.
Miyeon's chest rose and fell violently, as if she had run two marathons in a row. You sat up to look at her; her eyes immediately met yours.
"Are you okay, Miyeonie?" you asked, kneeling next to her.
"Daddy..." she took a deep breath, trying to get her brain working for a moment. "Fuck me, please... Fuck me and put a huge fucking seed inside me."
You raised both eyebrows in amusement.
"And you're sure you can handle it?" you pointed to her shaking legs.
"I didn't ask for your mercy, you damned fool," she snapped with a frown. "I asked you to put a baby in my damn belly."
A laugh escaped Soyeon. You exchanged glances with her, impressed by that last bit.
"Just give her what she wants, otherwise the spoiled bitch will cry again," she said, kneeling next to her.
"Well," you shrugged. "Clearly I'm not going to refuse."
You grabbed Miyeon by her thighs and pulled her close to you; she then spread her legs wide open, giving you the green light to penetrate her pussy with a single thrust.
She greeted you with a whimper. You held on to her waist and then she held on to your wrists, receiving quick thrusts from the start. Soyeon joined in immediately, getting on her hands and knees to kiss Miyeon's lips and tits.
Miyeon's thighs served as a grip for the next few seconds; you squeezed them under your fingers, hard and backwards, pressing them against her upper body. You were already hammering her pussy hard, mercilessly, just like you knew she wanted it.
Soyeon slipped a hand between Miyeon's legs, where she once again set out to stimulate her clitoris so quickly that it brought her to another inevitable orgasm.
Miyeon squirmed and rolled her eyes, her mouth permanently open. You felt her legs shake and her back bend upward as her spasms attacked her, but that didn't stop you, on the contrary you went even stronger.
"You better get ready, bitch," Soyeon told Miyeon, removing her hand from between her thighs. "You will have no rest until that load is inside you."
She was absolutely right. You weren't planning on giving that woman a break after making a whole scene of whining and tantrums to get fucked. You would give her what she deserved.
No sounds of any kind came out of Miyeon, only hints of moans that got stuck in her throat and disappeared with each thrust. Her eyes were half-closed; in them you could only glimpse a fixed white spot. Her hands were paralyzed as well, one on each side of her hips, with her fingers bent downwards and her nails digging into the sheet.
Another orgasm shook her as if she had received the shock of a defibrillator, but that didn't stop you either. You adjusted her position a little: you extended her left leg and sat on top of her thigh, and put her other leg on top of your shoulder. In this way you continued pumping between grunts.
Miyeon had reverted to her sex doll status, to a piece of meat whose only purpose was to drain your cock. There was a moment when she finally opened her eyes and looked at you; you only saw two wells of tears, which spilled down her cheeks and ruined some of her makeup.
She reached out a hand towards you, brushing your abdomen with the tips of her fingers as you fucked her.
"Give me your seed daddy..." she managed to say with complete serenity, even though her body was shaken non-stop and was full of sweat. "Put it all inside me… every drop… I beg you."
Soyeon put her hand to her mouth, watching the whole scene. She shook her head.
"Jesus Christ, what a fucking whore," she said.
Miyeon came one last time, and a few seconds later you followed. You gritted your teeth; your entire jaw clenched and your fingers gripping the flesh of her thigh as you sank inward. You shot every drop of cum that was left in your balls, making sure to leave that load deep inside her pussy.
"Oh fuck yes..." Miyeon whimpered, bringing her hands to her face and combing her hair back, overcome with pleasure. "My god, it feels so fucking good... put it all in, fuck, all of it. Don't you dare waste any drop."
You pumped slowly, with your mouth half open and your gaze fixed on Miyeon's weak, teary eyes. She arched her back and shifted on the bed, her nails digging into your lower abdomen.
Seconds later every possible drop of cum was inside her. You knew you did a good job when you pulled out of her pussy and only a small trickle managed to leak past her folds.
Already completely exhausted and drained, you fell next to Miyeon, lying on your side and supported by your elbow. You looked at her, realizing that she had fallen asleep instantly. You then exchanged glances with Soyeon, who was staring at you from before.
"What?" you asked.
"I want you to know that whatever happens in that womb is your responsibility."
You thought about it for a second and then realized that Miyeon shouldn't be on birth control for the mere fact that she always used a condom.
But fuck it, there were solutions and you didn't have time to think about it. You plopped down, head now lying on the mattress on the side of Miyeon's face.
"I'll go out in the morning to buy her the pill," you said, closing your eyes.
"It can't be more than 12 hours, otherwise it won't be as effective," she pointed out.
"Don't worry honey, I've got it under control," you nodded, clasping your hands on your abdomen. "Are you coming to cuddle?"
Soyeon stood up and crawled until she was on top of you, straddling you and covering your face with kisses.
"I would love to, handsome," she said between kisses. "But I can't disappear for the rest of the night and leave Yuqi and Minnie alone and drunk."
You laughed and opened your eyes, wrapping your arms around her.
"The last time I saw Yuqi she fell on her ass, and she wasn't even that drunk.
"Then I must go with greater haste to put things in order, lest a disaster occur."
Soyeon gently cradled your face in her hands and planted a soft kiss on your lips before standing up.
"You stay and take care of the princess. Rest," she continued. "It's up to you if you want to rejoin the party, but she won't wake up until morning."
You gave a thumbs up.
"I'll be down there in an hour, you have my word."
"I'll be waiting there, honey," she replied as she got dressed.
Soyeon left the bedroom a few minutes later, leaving you alone with the sleeping beauty.
You were forced to place her with you on the opposite side of the bed, on top of the pillows. You tried to separate her from you so she had space, but as soon as she felt your warmth she clung with her arms and legs to you like a koala.
Trying to push her away was useless, but it didn't bother you either; you were so exhausted that you just wanted to close your eyes and rest.
And so you did, since after a few minutes you had already fallen asleep. The last thought you had was the inevitable anguish that if luck wasn't on your side, you would have gotten Princess Cho pregnant.
A/N: I am taking an aespo sabbatical after this fic. Too much thighs, need to calm myself down with other fics in the queue.
Fanprose link here.
Enjoy.
“You have a lot of channels.”
“That's what I'm saying.”
“In other news–”
“So have a good on–”
“No, Diego, he was just a stupid fling–”
“Jesus, it just keeps going.”
“Alright, I’m fired up–”
“Here we have the Australian brown snake–”
“And away we go–”
“You know you don’t have to go through all of them.”
“Have you?”
“Have I what?”
“And a one, two, three–”
“So next up, you'll be doing some–”
“Check this out, yo–”
“Went through all of them.”
“Didn't bother to, there's too many. Now can you please pick what we’re gonna watch?”
“Give me a sec, this is fun.”
“Oh boy, it's a me–”
“I did not hit her, it’s not true–”
“Fuck yes, baby!”
Your eyebrows shoot up, your fingers pause, and the sounds of skin slapping skin fill the room.
“Aeri, why do you have porn in your TV channels?”
“Must've come with the channel package.” Her nonchalance about the whole thing is astonishing, really. Like watching a girl get her ass fucked being broadcasted to late night viewers of whoever the fuck channel provider she's subscribe to is a normal occurrence for her.
“Right.” The disbelief is thick in your voice, extremely skeptical that Aeri of all people doesn’t know about it.
“Hey, I’m just finding out about this now. I never go this far out,” she says, making your turn just as she nudges your shoulder with her feet. Gives you a full view of her ass in those shorts that are criminally tiny, slowly moving up to the pink tube top that looked way too tight on her, to the immaculate features of Uchinaga Aeri, fiery red hair propped up by an arm, looking like she’s enjoying what’s being played on the television.
You could very well frame it all as another wonder of the world; a very dangerous one at that. And to think you get to see this every week for movie nights.
It’s sort of routine, this relationship you have with Aeri. The only free time she has after wasting away the mornings sleeping and the evenings working and slash or partying depending on the day spent with the one person she can call a best friend.
An odd way of putting things, you know. But when has it ever been normal around her?
“Though–” She turns to look at you, the smirk on her face further reinforcing that fact. “Do I need to be worried that you stopped browsing?”
“I thought you said it didn’t matter what I chose?” you snark, a grin playing around your lips as you lean back and watch. Wasn’t exactly how you were planning to spend your night with Aeri this time around, but you’re not complaining.
You can hear Aeri roll her eyes at you, this playful scoff she’s let out making you shake your head. “We are not watching porn.”
“You said you didn’t wanna watch an action movie–” You shrug your shoulders. “–And this isn’t an action movie.”
“Oh come on,” she whines—laughs, really, but you weren’t focusing on that—before propping herself up and gesturing to the table in front of you both. “I can’t eat pizza, drink diet coke, and watch porn. I mean, who the hell does that?”
“Look at them go though,” you comment, fully focused on watching the debauchery in front of you. Watching the luscious spectacle of having a woman’s ass reamed by cock ever so slowly, letting her get used to the intrusion in her ass, the soft cushion of her ass pressing down against the guy’s groin—
“Are you even listening to me?”
“Yeah, yeah, just–” You inhale. “Mesmerized.”
Aeri laughs. “You act like this is your first time seeing anal.”
Because it was. It was never really something you were into, or bothered to look up. You were happy enough to explore the realm of sex when the opportunity to get laid arose, or watch whatever it was that caught your eye in hopes of getting yourself off when the need came.
And, sure, you and Aeri have fooled around before, fucked on occasion for a multitude of reasons—getting back at her ex, getting back at your ex, or just plain old sex for the fun of it—but the thought of fucking Aeri’s ass?
You’re almost blown away at how stupid you must be for how the idea has never once crossed your mind.
She doesn’t bother waiting for a response, only going on about how the girl is clearly paid to do this. “Like, mad cash for ass,” she reiterates. “I bet you she doesn’t even like this.”
That gets your attention. “You’re awfully knowledgeable,” you say, raising an eyebrow at her.
“Please.” The sass in her voice is undeniable, and you just know you’re in for a treat now when she starts to–
”You know how many times I’ve had to fake my orgasm so that they can get off quicker? It is stupidly high, I’ll tell you–” You nod along, pondering if she’s ever done that with you. You’re quite surprised she’s telling you this at all, as this can be regarded as forbidden knowledge to some. “–And if I really like the guy, I’ll go along with their weird ass kinks. Whatever the fuck those could be. I mean who knows, I might enjoy it.”
She sighs, propping a leg up to rest her chin on. “So it’s kinda not hard to think she’s doing this for the moolah, cause not everyone likes a cock up their ass.”
Does Aeri like it though? Another stray idea comes to your mind, but you file it away alongside her other bombs she’s decided to drop.
“I bet the guy does.” It’s a factual statement, something the both of you can agree on. Your hand lazily extends toward her, the remote dangling on your fingers. “Here, you choose what we’re gonna watch.”
“Finally.” She gladly takes it off your hands. Points it towards the TV, gives it a few clicks, watch the screen turn block for a moment before—
“Aeri, what the fuck am I looking at right now?”
“This–” She makes a whole show out of it, stretching her hands out as if she was presenting a new concept to you. “–is my kind of porn.”
Before you lays a woman surrounded by various men, all dressed up in formal wear as a narrator explains whatever the fuck is going on. You tune it out, really, because Aeri makes a much better explanation of things.
“Watching guys join a competition to fawn over a woman that'll dump them after a few months for the dumbest reasons is amazingly funny,” she says, resting an arm over the sofa's back. “More so when they start getting kicked off the show cause the girl didn't like ‘em.”
“There's gotta be one relationship that worked out.” Surely, there had to be one couple that got off to live a happy life.
Aeri nods, shaking her hand. “Fifty fifty, really,” she answers, before humming in thought. “Well, more like seventy thirty. There's been like, I don't know–two couples that got married?”
You watch as the woman looks at a line of balloons, a pencil in her hand. The narrator goes on about who the girl will be choosing to not continue on to woo her, alongside some dramatic cuts of the guys.
“And you watch this?” you ask, glancing at her. “From start to finish?”
“It’s a guilty pleasure,” she admits, reaching out to grab a slice of pizza. “Besides, it makes a girl feel special.”
“What, choosing your partner in live television?”
“Yeah!” She grins, gesturing to the screen with her pizza. “Like, look at this guy–” In comes some random dude talking, pouring his heart out to her in dire hopes that she doesn’t eliminate him. “He’s got flowers, the speech, the looks, everything. And I bet you she’s still gonna pop his balloon.”
And right on cue, a pop rings out.
You wince. Aeri chuckles.
“Jeez,” you mutter. “That’s tough.”
“It’s cause she’s got options.” Another piece of forbidden knowledge, you think. “All these guys to choose from, and she can still be picky.”
“Sounds a lot like dating apps, Aeri,” you say, as another pop rings out of the television. “Choose who you like and hope you two match.”
“Those are a lot worse than this.” Debatable, but you’re willing to listen to her reasons. “You don’t get ghosted after a date, or catfished and find out they’re not what they look like on the photos they send.”
Okay—
“Yeah, that makes sense.” You know the feeling. It’s a little dismaying, being on the receiving end of those situations. Distressing, actually, looking back at your recent dates and they all somehow manage to fall into either category. It doesn’t help that Aeri laughs at you when she finds you sulking about it.
Brutal, this woman is. And it wasn’t like her own dating life was the same. Which is strange, considering that it’s Aeri you’re talking about. Girl can get anyone in the world and she’s somehow still single.
Makes a guy like you wonder what’s up with that.
“I’m serious,” she continues, and you’re over here thinking she might’ve misinterpreted your words. “Everyone in the show knows what they signed up for. On those apps, you could be talking with someone for days then suddenly it’ll just stop.”
Yeah she definitely took it the wrong way.
“Yeah, I agree with you.” You nod your head, watching another poor sap get eliminated. “That’s why those apps are out of my phone.”
Aeri finishes up her pizza, moving back to lay down on the couch. Her feet resting on your lap, head resting on the pillow, doubt written on her face. “You? Not looking for hookups anymore?”
“What?” Your palms rest on either side of her foot, rubbing your thumb around the arch of her sole. She makes a satisfied hum as you turn to look at her. “It’s not like you didn’t do the same. When was the last time you went out with someone?”
“Oh, fuck you,” she laughs, kicking you with her other foot. “I can still get laid without those shitty apps. Not like you.”
“And when was that?” You ignore her jab, knowing that humoring that line of thought would only entail an incredible amount of trash talk from Aeri.
She clicks her tongue, waving a finger at you. “Baby, I don’t kiss and tell,” she quips, though you know better. She will, eventually, ultimately, tell you—it’s just a matter of how you can get it out of her. It’s her way of getting deeper under your skin, the tease that she is. “Now be a good boy and keep massaging my feet, hmm?”
“Only if you change the channel.” You’ve gone lower, rubbing down the heels of her foot.
She raises an eyebrow. “What’s wrong with this?”
“Oh come on,” you start, repeating the same words she told you moments ago. “I can’t eat pizza, drink diet coke, and watch this shit show.”
It’s almost as if you’re calling the tragedy, when another balloon gets popped and another contestant gets thrown out the show. You have to ask yourself if it was worth it to be a part of these types of things if you only get embarrassed at the end.
“And what do you propose we watch?” It’s like she knows what you’re about to say, when she beats you to it. “We are not going back to watching porn.”
“I’d take anything except this,” you tell her, fingers still working her soles as you nod to the screen. “I swear if I see another balloon pop I’m turning this off.”
Aeri sits up with a grin, making you stop what you’re doing to look at her. It was never a good sign when she gets all excited, as trouble normally tends to follow soon after. And that’s the thing with her that keeps you hooked; the way things get easier whenever you're around her chaotic orbit, the risk that is intuitively revolving around her.
“Wanna play a game for it?” You've heard that line countless times, ranging from the easy games such as the classic rock-paper-scissors all the way to the ridiculousness of who can get the most numbers after a night of partying.
And you fall for it every single time.
You sigh. “Lay it on me,” you agree, and she gets up, scurrying off to her bedroom after telling you to wait. Leaving you to continue watching this god awful show. The temptation to swap channels takes you, but you decide against it, muting it instead while you wait for Aeri.
Which wasn't too long, as she comes walking back with a pistol, a small box and a shooting stand.
Wait, what—
“Relax,” she sings, waving the gun around. “It's airsoft, and it's not loaded.” She takes her place back next to you, watching her open the box to show a few magazines and a net. “Yet.”
“We're not actually shooting inside your apartment, are we?” you ask, because it is the sensible thing to question, really. Even if it was airsoft, one wrong hit from either of you can result in one of her things—god forbid it would be the TV—would break.
“Where else would we be doing this?” She's gone on to load the gun, pulling the slide back and placing it down, facing away from you both. “The rooftop? If anyone saw us fucking around with this, they'd think it was a real gun.”
You sigh, knowing she was right. Even if the orange sticking out the barrel would tell people it wasn't shooting real bullets, it still looks quite like a gun. And at the dead of night and far away, you don't think anyone would ever think it's an airsoft.
And it’s not like you can ever say no to her. She always has her ways of convincing you, and you would rather not get a headache from what she’ll try to pull to get you to say yes. Agreeing is the better option than that.
“Fine, fine.” You stand up, picking up the target stand. “But at least not in your living room, please.” Setting it up by the hallway heading to her door, you ask her what this ‘game’ will be.
“Fastest shooter wins.” Aeri's leaning on the wall, gun in her hand with the safety thankfully on. Staring at you intently, the grin on her face is almost infectious as the excitement starts to bubble within you. “Gotta hit all twelve plates to say you're done with your set.”
You give the stand a once over, making sure that the net behind it is secure enough to hold any missed pellets, and you scoff. “Damn Aeri, you gonna make these things spin too?”
“Oh–” Your name comes out of her so endearingly it makes your skin tingle. In dread or in delight, you can't be so sure yourself. “That’d make things impossible for you.” Ouch. “Now get over here so I can shoot.”
A timer and three quick metallic twangs later, and she's starting off strong. She hits another one, the slide of her gun cycling back a few too many times, missing a couple of shots before more plates swing back.
“Maybe I should stand further away.” Even has the gall to make it harder for herself. She hits two more in quick succession, and it’s just unfair how good she is with a pistol. Well, sure, she misses every now and again which you can attribute to her dim lights (for the aesthetic, she swears), but for someone who’s only picked this hobby up for a few weeks or so after being convinced by a friend, she sure has everything down.
It's oddly arousing to think that she looks drop dead gorgeous doing this. Taking aim down her own hallway, unwittingly bragging about her skills with nothing but those short shorts and a flimsy top that causes her rather generous chest a few bounces when the lightest amount of recoil hits.
The way those shorts accentuate her thighs, filling the clothing in nicely—makes you ogle at how damn thick she is before the back view turns you into a drooling—
“Time,” she states, cutting off your thoughts. She lowers the gun down as she turns to you, glancing down to where you're holding your phone.
Your thumb clicks on the screen as you straighten up. “You got–” A quick glance down. “Nine point seventy eight. That's not too bad.”
She makes a disappointed groan. “Could've been better.”
“We aren't really shooting in an open area, Aeri,” you console, since it's all you can do, really. Aside from doing this so late in the night, you'll be surprised that she won't be getting a noise complaint from the amount of noise you two have gotten up to. “That, and your lighting's pretty bad here.”
“It is great!” she refutes, crossing her arms.
“When you're not shooting things, sure.” You get a light kick in the leg for that one.
Aeri flips the gun around, the grip pointed toward you. “Come on, asshole. Your turn.”
The two of you swap items; her gun for your phone. Hers is a lot smaller than the ones that you shot with when you joined her for a session, granted that those were rentals. And it is a gun regardless, after all.
You're giving it an inspection; feel the weight of the metal in your palm, check the amount of pellets that are still in the magazine and check if there's enough gas. You give it a press check, and look up to–
Jesus christ her ass.
Aeri didn't have to lean down to fix the shooting stand. She could've knelt down or stood up straight or hell, anything that would have avoided giving you a free show of that backside of hers being so tight. But no, she just had to bend over at the perfect angle to show off how those nonexistent clothes of hers emphasize what she has.
You really are stupid for never having the idea to fuck that ass of hers. You're even more of an idiot now that it's all you can think about. Blame your interest for being piqued, you suppose.
Seriously, why the hell is there porn on her network?
Steadying yourself with deep breaths, you focus back on the airsoft in your hands. Purely out of beating her in this unnecessary bet to avoid watching that shitty ass reality show in favor of a pornstar getting her ass fu—
Okay, pause. This is getting out of hand now, really. Brain twisted into thinking the most insane shit that you can’t even make sure that you can aim properly. It’s a lose-lose scenario, almost, when you try to and get greeted by Aeri still fixing the plates. Still bent over.
Still showing you her ass.
“Goddamn it, Aeri,” you mutter under your breath, turning to the side, bringing the weapon up to eye level. Looking through the sights, peering down to focus on the one can of diet coke standing on the table. You’re almost tempted to squeeze the trigger, although the mess it’ll cause would cause Aeri to riot.
Can’t keep that carpet dirty or else it’s your head.
“Done!” Your head turns, and now you understand why she chose those lights. Gets her that cinematic look—the light dim enough that it makes her look alluring, mysterious, hitting her face in that orange glow that floors you.
Even felt like time slowed, when she’s walking back to you in slow motion. Your eyes gawk at every inch of her body, and it really is dumbfounding how this woman is still single after seeing this once in a lifetime sight.
“What’s wrong–” She’s so close now, bumping her shoulder with yours, that soft smell of mangoes hitting your nose. You blink, being greeted by her grinning features, looking all so smug that gets your pride going. “Scared of losing?”
Yeah, no.
“Come on, Uchinaga,” you state, pistol at the ready, sights aimed down at a white circle. “Time it.”
She holds the phone up. “In three–”
You breathe deep. “Two–”
Your fingers squeeze. “One–”
“Go.”
Admittedly, you are not the best at this. With two practice sessions in your belt compared to her doing this on a regular basis, your aim isn’t going to beat hers. And as much as you want to win this, you are very outmatched.
Doesn’t mean that you won’t try to beat nine seconds.
You get through the first few easily, being able to knock them down quickly. The transitions always get you, slowing you down, your shots getting messy. Missing a few here and there before the metal slams back, the ding ringing out as you keep going.
Aeri’s letting out all sorts of noises that tell you what she sees—whistling at a made shot, hissing as you miss four in a row, huffing a laugh when you finally hit the halfway point. She's mocking as much as she is encouraging, and it's only serving to get you to concentrate harder, if that was even possible.
Have to lock in and all.
You hit the next few shots you make, leaving you with the last plates to score. Your fingers adjust their hold on the gun; a minute thing to do at a time like this, more so that you're sure as shit not beating her time now.
But it helps. Gets you your last few plates, a disappointed sigh out of your lips knowing your bad time, and a few congratulatory claps from Aeri on your side as she stops the timer.
“What do you know,” she drawls, and you already know what she'll say. You lost by thirty seconds. She'll tell you, tease you about your poor aim. Submitting you to watch that god awful show for the night, her ego through the goddamn roof.
“You got a good eleven oh three.” Can't say you were surprised. But being two seconds slower than her does send a kick to your pride. She probably sees the dissatisfaction in your face when she gives you another shoulder bump.
“Don't beat yourself too much now,” she adds as you unload the airsoft.
You had to scoff at that, a smile slipping past your lips. “Asking the impossible here, Aeri.”
“Blame the lighting.” Of course she brings that up again. “Now can the loser clean this up while I prepare what we’ll finally be watching?”
You hand her the pistol before waving her away, already walking to the stand. “Where’s your vacuum?”
“Don’t worry about that,” she replies, wedging the gun between her elbow as she walks back to the living room. “Just hide the stand back in my room!”
You unhook the net and pick the stand up, carrying it back to her room which looked incredibly, oddly tidy. So unlike her, you think, as she’s easily the messiest person you’ve met. You had to pause, because actually seeing a neat bed and a clean desk is actually making you raise an eyebrow.
“Huh.” It’s all you can say, really. If at all. You shake your head, forgetting about this for the time being, heading to place the stand down at the corner of her room, just next to her cabinet. “Hey Aeri!”
“Yeah?” she echoes.
You bring the net up to your face. “You want me to throw away the pellets?”
There’s a short pause, and you can picture the face she must be making when she answers you. “Yes, throw them away. I don’t wanna jam my airsoft with shitty BBs, thank you!”
Your foot hits the pedal of the trashbin, and the little spheres fall into the chute. Leaving the mesh by her desk, you head back to Aeri, finding her languidly draped across the couch, laying down with her legs in the air, chin in hand, smiling and waving at you with the remote.
“Ready to chill?” she asks, her eyebrows wagging up and down.
“Might as well get this over with,” you reply, sitting down on the free spot next to her. She immediately decides to get comfier, exchanging her palm with your lap as a pillow. You look down, and you can’t believe you’re actually pleading with her not to—“Can we please not watch that bachelorette show?”
Aeri laughs. “Got you something better.” She points the remote to the TV and turns it on—
“Yeah, sexy, get it–”
The low sounds of slapping hit your ears, and your eyes are once again treated to the sight of a woman—a different one this time—getting her back blown out. More enthusiastically, you notice immediately.
“Aeri–” Air blows through your nose in an attempt to keep yourself sane. You know she felt your cock twitch; how couldn’t she, when she’s practically breathing down your lap. “Why are we back to watching porn?”
“Already saw that episode earlier. That entire season’s been on replay for the past two weeks,” she says, placing the remote down by the table, her hands joining to rest on your lap. “So we can watch this instead.”
“But I thought you didn’t want to watch porn?” The fucking in the screen gets faster, the same guy (you can’t help but think he’s lucky, but then again it’s his job) pounding down on the bent over girl.
“I’m down to entertain whatever weird ass kink you have,” she chuckles, eyes glancing up towards you, mischief dancing along her features. “Don’t think I didn’t see you peeking at mine. ‘Sides–” Aeri wiggles her hips, showing her own ass off. “You could learn a thing or two from the guy.”
“Right,” you mutter, accepting that she knows—and likes—that you are a normal, horny young male that doesn’t know whether to look at Aeri’s ass or the ass getting fucked in the screen. Your eye twitches, slowly losing your sanity at what’s happening. Forcing to keep things casual, you make an offhanded comment. “Guy’s really going at it.”
“She’s definitely enjoying it,” she adds, grabbing your hand with hers, your fingers lacing together. Her getting touchy is a bad, bad thing to be doing, the bells in your head ringing. Sounding off the good signals; ones that make you breathe deeper, your own fingers getting twitchy.
Seeing it as an unspoken permission to speak what’s been on your mind since the moment this network decided to invade your night, since the moment the thought of Aeri’s ass took over your entire thought process, since she decided to choose on porn as your Friday movie night, you ask:
“Are you into this type of thing?”
She chuckles. “Straight to the point tonight, are we?” She’s getting up, making sure to unnecessarily arch her back first before standing.
“It’s a no, then.” You shake your head.
“No, no,” Aeri says as she walks away. “Keep watching, I need to go get something.”
“I can swap the channel, you know.” That makes her stop and turn her head. Hair framing her face so unfairly perfect it makes the smirk she has hit so much more deadly.
“You won’t.”
And she’s resumed her walk, off to her bedroom as you sit on the couch, watching porn on the big screen while there’s pizza and diet coke in front of you. It’s a bit awkward, you’ll admit, having to take a bite out of your pizza while the exaggerated moans of the woman echo in the room.
A lot more awkward, actually.
You manage to finish a slice, getting a few gulps of diet coke before your name gets called from the hallway, followed by the dull footsteps and—
“Catch.”
A bottle gets thrown in your direction, and your hands scramble to grab it. It rests in your palm, looking at the liquid inside the clear bottle. “What's this?”
“Just a little something to spice up tonight,” Aeri answers, sitting down next to you, body pressed up against yours—almost cuddling you with her feet curled up on the couch. She's made you wrap an arm around her shoulders, and she's twirling a pink rubber stick, balls sticking out on them like—
Oh. Oh what the fu–
“Watch your porn,” she says, reaching up with her free hand to turn your head back to the TV.
You will your face back towards you, the weak restraints that you call her hand not fighting back against your movements. “That is a lot more interesting than the porn, Aeri,” you quip, taking a closer look at what’s in her hands. You’re counting five, six spheres that get smaller the farther out it was from the base.
Suddenly the bottle in your hands makes a lot more sense.
“Is it?” She’s being coy with you, leaning her head on your chest. Looking completely focused on the action happening in front of her, gripping the anal beads in her hand, raising it up to her head. “And what, pray tell, do you think we’ll be doing with this?”
“I don’t know, Aeri,” you start, your palm slowly drifting lower. Yet the words are lost now, its cadence muddled the lower your hand goes. From her shoulders, down to her waist, finally resting yourself on the curve of her ass. You’re tempted to give it a good, nice squeeze; wanting to begin appreciating what she’s got after seemingly ignoring it for so long.
And to be fair to yourself, you were only thinking about how lucky you were that you get to fuck Uchinaga fucking Aeri without managing to completely screw over what friendship you two have. It’s almost a miracle in itself, you think, that neither of you have ever brought up what this was.
Were you fuckbuddies? Friends with benefits? Is that what it will ever be—
“Keep watching,” Aeri chuckles, forcing your head back to the porn on the screen. Leaving your cheeks with a few playful taps, she wanders down herself, coming down to palm your cock over your pants. Rubbing you over the fabric, squeezing lightly that makes you twitch.
“Christ, Aeri,” you exhale, legs parting to allow her more room. It was a sign of permission on both ends, groping her asscheek, fingers squishing her asscheek. It causes her to giggle impishly, biting her lip to slow the coquettish smile that's begun forming.
“You like that dick?”
“Fucking love it, sexy—”
Her grip gets firmer around your length as she leans in to whisper you a question. “Still have that lube?”
You breathe out your answer. Of course, speaking out of your lips, eyes closing; thoughts wandering. Trying to remember the last time you’ve seen her bare ass, thinking of how you’ll be able to bury yourself between her thighs, tongue prodding lower than you normally would.
Would her moans sound different? Would it be the same when you play with her pucker, letting your tongue explore her in such a different way. It’s getting you harder, pulling you in deeper into the rabbit hole that Aeri’s dug wide open.
“Hey now,” she says, elbowing your stomach lightly. Getting you back to reality as she pushes herself off of you, laying her toy down on the table and taking the bottle from your hands. “Why don’t you take your pants off for me?”
It’s your turn to play pretend, even as your actions speak otherwise—already unzipping your pants, tugging them down to your ankles. “And why should I?”
“Because,” she drawls, thumbing the cap open. Glancing back at you as a dribble of the liquid inside starts to fall down to her palm. “We gotta get you ready, sexy.”
“I should be telling you that,” you say, and it makes her laugh.
“Don’t you worry, you’ll get to play with this ass all you want later,” she replies, giving you a saucy wink. “But for now, let me have some fun.”
“This is what I get for telling dating apps to fuck off, huh?” you joke, your boxers tugged down, and your legs are kicking them off to the floor just as Aeri comes back to your side.
“Tell them to fuck off later.” Her arm’s wrapped around your shoulder this time, as she lets her wet palm wrap around your cock. “Right now, you're going to fuck me.” The cold warmth makes you tense, and you’re putty in her hands as she slowly begins to pump you.
“Aeri–” You turn your head towards her, and she’s so damn close that one push of your head and you’d be meeting her lips. Although you imagine she has other plans in mind when her breath tickles your neck, and her voice is sent directly to your ear.
“Shh,” she coos, her hand spreading the lube all over your length. Her thumb circling your tip whenever her fingers pump up, making sure to get you all nice and wet for what’s to come. You let your arm snake around her waist, pulling her as close you can. You can only let out a small prayer to god, allowing yourself to lean back further on the couch. She lets out a breathy giggle, clearly enjoying the reaction she’s getting out of you.
And in her mind, that only means that she can take things up a notch.
“You like how he’s fucking her ass like that?” Oh, it’s over for you. “Pinning her down–” Your grip tightens around her waist, a shaky exhale spilling out of you as her hand goes faster. “–Making her beg for more of that thick cock inside the fat ass she’s got?”
You can only let out a chuckle at her words. She’s jerking you off like this and she’s more interested in if you think porn is fucking hot? “I’m not even watching anymore, Aeri,” you admit, more focused on the feeling of her hand pumping up and down your cock, the lube coating you in a light sheen.
Aeri scoffs playfully, blowing air into your ear. “You should,” she urges, her teeth grazing your earlobe. “It’s really fucking hot.”
“You think–” Your eyes open, and you’re once again saying hello to the debauchery being played on her TV. The dirty talk accentuates what’s happening, the man pounding down the woman’s ass, just like the woman’s been begging him to. “That she likes it?”
“Oh, she fucking loves it,” she purrs, and it’s a completely different response you’re getting from the earlier rant she’s told you. But your perverted brain can’t comprehend that, too caught up in enjoying this than to think of anything that is rational. “This one’s in it for the game, y’know? Not like that other chick–”
“And which one are you?” Your other hand comes to her chest, finger dancing around the top of the fabric. You can’t stop yourself from hooking a few fingers inside her top, tugging it down to expose the supple flesh underneath.
The grin on her face answers everything and nothing. She doesn't say anything just yet, only reaching behind her to unzip her top, loosening the cloth enough for her to pull it over her head. It fully exposes her chest, such irresistible, impeccable breasts that makes your mouth water.
Such a perfect pair, even as she jokes how there's always bigger ones than hers. One of her friends alone tops everyone you've met, but Aeri's has something so much more special.
It's hers. And you cannot wait to have them in your mouth.
“Take a guess,” she teases, grabbing the bottle from the table and letting her tits get lathered in them. She lets the lube drop on the couch, her hands playing with her breasts as she's climbing on top of you, straddling you and pushing her chest out as an invitation.
You come up to cup one of her breasts, feel the weight of them in your palm as you give a generous squeeze. “You’re the type to be doing this for shits and giggles, Aeri,” you answer, your idle hand resting in her hip as she chuckles.
“Normally, you’d be right,” she says, getting comfier on your lap, a hand on your shoulder as she leans back just a tad to give you more space to play with her tits. “But I think we both have something to talk about after this.”
As ominous as that sounds, you don’t let yourself worry about it. Simply nod your head at her, telling yourself it’s a future you problem, because right now you're worrying more about trying to survive her teasing. Grinding down on your cock as she pulls you into a teat, the hard nub meeting your tongue as you lick away.
“Just focus on this for now,” she mutters, letting you enjoy her full breasts. Your lips wrap around her nipple, your tongue tracing circles around her bud, kissing every inch of skin you can get. You revel in it, sucking on her teat, cupping her breasts together to swap between them, giving them playful bites that make her sigh in pleasure. Aeri doesn’t let you linger for long, pushing you away to plant her lips on yours.
Moaning into your mouth, letting the sound reverberate around your lips as you taste her lips. You never tire of how soft her lips feel, the utter need that begins rising inside you to have more of them, to taste more of her. And she reciprocates all of it, her tongue prodding your lower lip for permission that you wholeheartedly allow.
You don’t miss the way she’s rolling her hips as you lock lips; the lazy circling she’s doing on your cock, your palms getting to experience every twirl she makes. It’s driving you crazy, groaning into her mouth as she grows ever faster with her hips, her lips, her arms wrapped around your neck to keep you close.
The need to breathe takes one of you first, and she pulls away. She’s licking her lips, breathing deep while gripping her hips to stop her from moving. “Aeri,” you gasp, letting out another groan as she comes to attack your neck, planting wet pecks all around you. “Fucking hell–”
It’s become noise now, the pornography in front of you. Barely incomprehensible at this point. Only the sounds of skin hitting skin being the few things you can understand aside from the words that are being screamed out. A phrase must’ve gotten Aeri’s attention, because the second they were heard she paused her actions.
“Come on, sexy, spank my ass!”
Aeri lets out a chuckle, her tongue swiping up your neck before she’s getting off you, spinning around and allowing you the beautiful sight of her legs that go on for miles, her shorts that do nothing to hide her thighs, to the beautiful line of her back. She’s got her thumbs hooked under her shorts, her movements torturously slow when she begins to pull them down.
She’s testing your patience—seconds that feel like hours as she bends over, the clothing low enough to expose just that hint of ass hiding underneath. It comes lower, until you see her panties come down with her shorts, lower, until she exposes her wet pussy lips to you, lower, until they are loose enough to let go of. She’s picked them up by her toes, joining the discarded pile of clothes you’ve left before she turns her head, her red mane almost lighting up from the TV.
“Come on, sexy, spank my ass,” She repeats, a smirk on her face, her ass so close to your shaft. Her hands rest on her knees as she starts to grind herself on you, your tip brushing her folds. You're holding onto your dick by the base, not allowing yourself any lost sensation of Aeri’s ass on your cock as she gyrates and rolls her hips back to you.
Leaving your other hand free to do as you wish with her ass. It comes crashing down her cheek, a sharp crack sounding out as she arches her back, a momentary pause as she lets the sting of your palm sit. “More,” she moans, grinding down harder, pushing her ass back against you. And you give it to her.
Your hand’s coming down her asscheeks, enjoying each gasp she makes when you do. And every time it happens she grows restless, backing down on you harder, making you twitch as she’s rolling her hips at you. It’s an impossible challenge, having to survive this while you’re all but egging her on with each spank. But you make do, making sure that her ass is red by the time she’s decided to get on her knees for you.
Doesn’t grace you with any form of a warning—simply pushes the hand holding your cock to allow hers to take over. Holding you by the base and taking you in deep. No preamble at all, just her lips wrapping around your length, pushing down until she's taken every inch of you down her throat.
“What the hell, Aeri–” is all you can muster out, your hands coming to grip her hair. Holding on tight as she throats your cock, eyes locked onto yours. Bobbing her head quickly, hand pumping what her lips can't reach, her tongue twirling around your length. “Oh my god–”
“What’s wrong?” she teases, tapping your tip against her tongue. Letting the spit that’s accumulated fall down her mouth and coat you, jerking your cock and getting it all over you, her hand, her lips. “Too much for you, sexy?”
That damn pet name’s going to get you killed, more so when she’s doubled her efforts; not even bothering for a response except for your fucked stupid expression. Giggling up at you, the vibrations sending shivers, your thighs clenching from the way her tongue just moves all while she’s fucking her head on your cock.
It is, quite in fact, too much for you to handle, needing to physically get her pouty lips off your cock to stop her from making you finish inside her mouth. “Hold on–” You’re left gasping for air, while Aeri is simply looking at you; all innocent and doll-like, like she’s done no wrong to you in the past few minutes.
And to be fair, she hasn’t. Except for maybe the fact that she isn’t waiting anymore, pulling you in for another kiss. Getting you on the floor with her as your recovering lungs allow her to explore your mouth with no resistance at all.
She knows your body just as much as you know hers—on your lap to keep grinding her bare cunt on your dick, no respite given at all. Her arms are wrapped around your neck to keep her lips kissed with yours while your own hands are holding onto her hips, tapping them, squeezing them, going lower to paw at her ass; anything to get her to slow down because she’s become voracious, always unsatisfied at what she’s getting, what you’re offering. Wanting more of your lips, your cock, of you.
“What–” You had to push her away to get her to pause, leaving you both breathless. “What’s going on with you, Aeri–” You’re cut off with a groan, her hips persistent, wet folds kissing your cock at each roll.
“I just–” Her tongue’s licking her bottom lip, hands steadying her on your shoulders. “Just–want you so fucking bad,” she says, sighing at the slightest bit of tension being released by her grinding.
The admission gets you aching, gets your fingers digging into those cheeks of hers as she’s lazily letting her folds brush against your cock, the desire to pick her up the tiniest bit to get her impaled on your cock sitting in the back of your mind. Everything about you is screaming that you want her too, want her so bad that you’re letting her do whatever she wants with you.
And she knows it—has her chuckling into your lips, arms locked around your neck growing tighter. It’s almost annoying how easy she can read you at times. Yet as much as you want to keep this going, to see what happens when you let her have her way, what’s being played behind her returns you to what you should really be doing.
Your palm hits her ass, making her freeze. “Up,” you order, nodding to your side. “On the couch, Uchinaga.”
“And if I don’t want to?” She’s challenging you, trying to see how far you would go for what you really, truly are craving for. And hell, you are going to get it one way or the other.
“Fine.” Aeri lets out a cute yelp as you pick her up by the waist, her legs locking around you. Standing up and turning back around to place her down on back on the soft leather, slowly untangling her long legs. And you’re back on your knees, a complete one-eighty to both your positions.
Taking off your shirt and letting it join the increasingly large pile of clothes, you part her legs, giving them a push to show her pussy, dripping wet now from all the foreplay, looking utterly mouthwatering. Yet you’re eyeing her little asshole, speculating at what the taste would be, salivating at the thought you are finally, irrevocably, going to eat Aeri’s ass.
Pulling her closer by her thighs, hearing her sweet mutters and moans of getting your tongue in her cunt. Wide, pleading eyes look down on you, arms spread on the couch to fist whatever she can of it, and the sight of it alone gets you to smile.
Something about seeing Aeri look so messy and begging makes the need to worship her all the more important to you. Hungry to see her lose more of herself in the wreckage of pleasure that you’ll be giving her, to hear her gasp and whimper and cry at how you’ll devote yourself to that pucker of hers, her own excitement showing with her winking rosebud.
“My turn, Aeri,” you tell her, bending forward and giving her left cheek a kiss, right where your palm has left its mark. Then her right, moving back and forth between them, a hand coming down to rub at her clit. It drives her mad, trying to roll her hips towards you, wanting to have your mouth satiate what she needs. Yet it only causes you to keep delaying, keep kissing her marks away, keep playing with her sweet spot.
“Stop fucking playing around–” She’s getting frantic, a hand grabbing your hair in an attempt to get her way. You’re fighting back against the pull, licking up her asscheek, to her thighs and giving her folds a slap with your fingers. It makes her thighs tremble, her hold on you immediately slacking.
“Thought this was what you wanted,” you say, planting a kiss on the plush thighs, your digits leaving her folds. Going lower, tracing the rim of that little hole; looking so tight that you doubt your finger would be able to go in. “I’m focusing on you, just like you told me to.”
You reach out to her side, grabbing the lube and squirting some on your hand. Making sure to get more on your index, you’ve moved back to her ass, back to tracing circles on her backdoor. You’re looking straight at her as you talk about having your complete attention on her ass, just as you push your digit in.
She’s tensing against your grip, flexing the muscles of her thighs as she takes your finger. Watch your lone digit push in ever so slowly, hearing her hiss and sigh at the sensation. “W-Wait,” she gasps, reaching out to take hold of your arm. “Use the beads.”
Your gaze returns to the table, where the pink rubber’s been left since the beginning of this all. Pulling your finger out slowly, you give her asshole a soothing rub before you go and pick it up. Giving it a quick look before you go back to Aeri. “What do you need me to do?”
“Pour some lube on it,” she says, hands coming to pull her asscheeks apart. “And put it in me. Not all of it, okay?”
“Oka–”
“I’m serious,” she cuts you off with a stern look, before biting her lip and looking away. Seemingly in debate with herself for a quick moment before she confesses something that makes your heart race. “It’s my first time doing this, so take it easy alright?”
You’re moving without even noticing it, leaning in to give her a peck. A whisper of your promise to her between your lips. “I’ll make sure to stop if it hurts, Aeri.”
“Fuck you.” It’s an automatic response, almost on instinct that gets the both of you chuckling. “Just–get back over there and stick it in. Slowly, please.”
You’re pouring lube over the rubber, praying that Aeri doesn’t notice that you dripped a bit of lube down her couch—
“You’re cleaning that up tomorrow, by the way.”
Well shit.
“Yeah, yeah,” you laugh, pointing the edge of the beads towards her pucker. Her hands are back to spreading her ass for you, giving you an easier time to push it in. “Like this?”
Aeri’s humming her consent, watching your every movement as you slowly push a bead in. It was the smallest one, each ball getting bigger the closer it is to the base. “D-Do half.”
Pushing two more in, watching it stretch her, her entrance widening to take each sphere inside her. “What now?”
“Give me a sec,” she replies, eyes closing and taking deep breaths. Your decision to help relieve her tension comes in the form of gently circling your fingers once more above her clit, making her gasp. Cursing at the sensation, moaning as she tells you to keep pushing more.
So you do. Every time she takes another bead she tenses up, your fingers playing with her folds more to help her relax, her entrance widening further to take bigger and bigger beads. It’s good that the difference in sizes weren’t too big, else she’d be taking longer to get used to the feeling. You talk to her in between insertions, asking the most natural thing that comes to mind:
“Why do you have this anyway?”
“What?” Her eyes snap open, a raised eyebrow following as you look up at her. “Have what, toys?”
“I mean, I know you have them–” Remembering the time she threw her dildo at you one time was a funny memory to recall at a time like this, though it still comes to mind. And you got domed in the head with it for no good reason too. “But I didn’t think you’d be into playing with–” It sounds odd, thinking about your next words in your head. It doesn’t stop you from continuing this line of thought, your curiosity taking over everything. “–your ass.”
The next natural thing comes to mind, and you’re already asking her the question before your brain can even catch up with whether you really should be asking it or not.
“Were you planning to have me fuck your ass or something?”
You—honest to god—might have screwed up your possibly one and only chance of ever getting a whiff of anal sex with that question. The sheer ego to think that she would do all this for you makes you cringe internally. What if she just wanted to do this for the fun of it, the adventure, the thrill of doing something new to her—
“Kinda?” What the fuck did she just say? “I thought it'd be a good birthday gift for you–” Oh my god was she actually planning on this? “–and since we're both single and we were already fooling around before and–”
She takes another deep breath. Calming herself down before she starts to ramble. “Can we–” She says them so slowly, carefully, going over each word in her head before she speaks (unlike your dumbass), looking at you with so much emotion that it gets you to just stop. “Can we talk about this later? When you're not about to actually fuck my ass?”
Her first time, giving it to you of all people. The thought sounded so impossible, so insane that hearing her say it out loud causes your entire being to lock up under the total, pure insinuation of it causes your world's axis to tilt.
Yeah, you two really should talk after this.
A chuckle of sheer disbelief leaves your lips at her words, before you stop to look at her. And you really look at her, from the tense muscles due to the beads, the sweat dripping down her cheek, that hint of a smile on her face—all forgotten when you see the fond look in her eyes.
Definitely need to talk about this.
“Alright, Aeri,” you breathe out, kissing her thigh. Saying the only thing you can say that encapsulates everything you want to convey. “Thank you. Even if you were planning on such a crazy birthday gift.”
A laugh escapes her lips. “Happy birthday in advance–” Aeri says your name so adoringly, that familiar teasing lilt in her voice that gets you grinning. “Now, can you stick it all in please? I really want to have you in my ass.”
You see what she means by when she really likes a guy now.
“So impatient,” you chide, pushing the last two beads in. Making sure to let her get used to each additional one you push in her asshole. “Now what?”
“Pull them out, slowly too.” And you follow them to the letter. Tighten your grip on the base and slowly pull each bead out. Treated to a front row seat of having her asshole get stretched out, each bead widening her back entrance. You can hear Aeri's panting as you take each bead out, until you've popped every last bead out from her.
And you're left mesmerized, seeing her asshole look so tight, so ready, so fucking delectable it makes you stop and think how she would taste like.
Never was one to back down from trying something new.
You come back down, your tongue out and reaching for her asshole. Her taste takes your palate, and she is divine. Aeri’s calling out to you, trying to get your attention but you're already tensing your tongue and pushing in, feeling the slightest bit of resistance as you go. Even with the beads making way before you, she’s still so fucking snug that you lather her entrance up even more with your spit.
You can feel her tighten against your tongue, the moans that are muddled by her thighs wrapping around your head and you swear that this might be what you’ll be experiencing once heaven comes knocking about for you.
It’s a contrast, what she’s saying and what she’s doing. Asking you to stop eating her ass and get on with sticking your cock in (as enticing as it was), telling you that the lube and spit that she’s prepped your length with is gonna be gone (which, are really just excuses). And yet—warm, soft thighs are tightening around your head at every single minute thing that your tongue is doing. Her hand digging deep into your scalp as she pushes you forward, making you go deeper, treating this asshole like it was your last meal.
And you try not to keep yourself too preoccupied with just her ass, snaking a palm up back, running your fingers through her soaked folds and coating your fingers in them. Pressing a few fingers against her lips, allowing her wetness to slide your digits forward.
Aeri's gone, calling your name, broken phrases and words mixing in that gets you even more enthusiastic about this. Slowly pumping your fingers inside her in this rhythm, making sure one hole of hers is full.
“Oh my god–” She's slumping back against the couch, surrendering herself to you, no longer deciding to fight back. Letting you have your way with her, continuing your worship of her asshole, giving her pussy more attention from the neglect it will inevitably receive once you'll take her ass.
“You like this ass, sexy?”
You almost forgot that that was playing in the background, and it's funny that that was the one thing you both decided to pick up on. Makes Aeri pull your head out from her thighs, and you're looking up at her.
Red cheeks, a lazy, perverse grin as her head tilts to the side. “Well, sexy? You like my ass?”
“Love it.” You let a finger come play with her pucker, making circling motions as you pull the fingers out of her folds. “Can’t wait to fuck it.”
“Don’t have to wait much more,” she says, loosening her hold on your neck as she gives your scalp a gentle tug. “Come on, I think I’m ready for you.”
“You sure?” Your throat is bobbing, gulping as time’s finally come. You’re positioning yourself between her legs, holding yourself by the base. Your other reaches out to caress a thigh; a hand she comes to give a gentle squeeze of with her own.
“Course I am,” she tells you, letting out a chuckle. “Had my mind set on it since forever. And besides, you’re the only one I trust with this.”
You give her thigh a squeeze back. “Tell me what to do then.”
“Well,” she exhales, leaving your hand to spread her asscheeks. “You can start by sticking your cock in my ass.” She adds a stern glare at the end of it, slowly coming out of her lips as your tip meets her asshole.
“Slow, I got you.” You take a deep breath, lining yourself up properly against her. She’s looking up at you with a bitten lip, waiting, anticipating your move. You push agonizingly slow, allowing her entrance to get used to the head of your cock, slowly, slowly, until your entire head’s inside of Aeri’s ass.
She lets out a long hiss, trying to ease herself in with your tip, each second passing making you keep on pushing as she makes you fit inside her tight little hole. Aeri’s cursing, groaning as you continue filling her with your cock. An arm snaps down to grip onto the leather, closing her eyes and letting you feed her more of your length until—
“Tell me that’s all of it,” she says, eyes opening slowly to look at you.
You take your time to answer, because you’re stuck in a trance of an ever-looping state of sanity and intensity. The way that it feels like she’s pulsing around your cock, squeezing and clenching around you with such tightness you almost think she’s trying to milk you of your load right out the gate. Or if she was trying to cut your dick off.
Hopefully the former.
“Halfway there,” you reply, gritting your teeth at the sheer pressure she’s surrounding you with. Only half, and it feels so mind destroying, more so when you realize that you are her first.
You snap out of your daze when Aeri lets out a scoff. “Fucking christ why do you have to be this big?”
Yeah, you’re a goner for this woman.
“Don’t–” Her eyes flutter shut. “–put in more of that.”
“What do you want me to do?” The temptation to push further in is strong, but you don’t want to hurt Aeri anymore than she must already be, even with the lube and foreplay to prepare her with this.
“Just start fucking me,” she answers, and your breath hitches from the thought. “But don’t go past half or whatever the fuck length you’re in me.”
An implausible task she is asking of you. And all you can tell her is—“No promises.”
You start pulling back, setting a slow pace for yourself. Taking her ass as delicate as you can, rocking your hips back and forth, her asshole clenching so damn tightly around you it drives you insane with just this much already. You’re almost scared of what would happen if you decide to push every inch of yourself in her.
Fingers caress her legs, in an attempt to give her comfort from the pain, yet every small sigh she airs, every clench of her ass around you seems to break your resolve.
“This looked a lot easier on the TV,” you grunt, steadying yourself, grabbing her legs and pulling them upwards, laying her feet on your shoulders.
“Yeah?” She manages a chuckle out, mouth curling up into a smirk. “She wasn’t taking one this big, you fucking–”
Aeri’s groaning at each thrust, muscles squeezing down on your once more as you push a little further. “Fuck, you feel so–” she mutters, gasping as you go slightly faster. “So much more bigger in my ass.”
Your rhythm gets all fucked up at that, pushing in a bit more than you should’ve, past that barrier that you two have agreed upon. A barrier that quickly gets destroyed as her lips open wide, a curse singing out of her.
“More,” she groans, that familiar hunger in her eyes settling in; it’s one that you’ve seen every time she gets further into things, starting to really let herself enjoy the perversion. And every time you see it, it gets you falling deeper into her, deeper into her body, her tightness, her eyes—fuck, how the hell is this woman still single?
“Go faster.” She’s going to make you fall in love at this point.
You follow her to the very letter, hips thrusting faster, gripping onto her thighs harder. Pretty sure you’ll be leaving handmarks by the end of it but you just can’t find it in yourself to give a fuck anymore, taken completely by Aeri’s ass wrapped around your cock.
“God you feel so tight,” you praise, your hips getting closer and closer to meeting her ass at each push of your hips, each time sending more tingles around your body as the sheer pressure of it gets you addicted.
“And you’re the only one special enough to get this first,” she says, moaning as you finally, finally hit skin upon skin, the sound immaculate. Your arms have wrapped around her legs, thrusting turning into pounding. Eyes closing as you let all restraint come loose, your fucking growing longer, pace going faster, all the while she’s speaking all these dirty sweet nothings that serve to chip away even more at your shot nerves.
“Careful now, I might ask for seconds of this.” You peer over her legs, watching every small change in her expression. That grin on her face growing wider, her gaze almost rabid in the way she’s looking at you.
Aeri laughs—a sultry, slow tone that gets you thrusting deeper. “You can have me as much as you want, sexy.” It’s a statement, one she turns into a speech when she says that you can eat her sweet ass anytime, as long as you promise to fuck it straight after. “Bet you’d like that, huh?” She sounds so damn cocky because she's right; you would like it. You'd love it, even.
Just be on your knees, a face constantly full of her ass. Your tongue digging in, savoring her taste before you go mental the second your length sinks inch by every fucking inch inside her asshole. It'd be a dream come fucking true, honestly.
“Aeri–” You gulp down the thoughts that have become swirling around your head, the imagery that her words have given you, making your strokes harder, pushing her legs down bit by bit as she moans.
Her hands begin to pinch at her nipples, her moans joining that rhythmic slapping. You barely hear the fucking from the TV, engrossed utterly in Aeri's ass. Pumping your length into her, hearing her spit out words along the lines of fuck yes, more, this ass is yours, sexy to go rougher, to take every hole she has as yours.
It’s a treat to watch, all of it—got the front row view of the complete thing. Everything meshes with the groaning that you hear coming out of the screen, and a quick peek to the bright lights makes you pause in your thrusting, engrossed at the ending show; a cock pulling out of the woman’s ass to show her leaking all the cum that’s been dumped inside of it.
“Bet you wanna do that to me.” Aeri’s chuckles turn you back to her, propping herself up with her arm, her other reaching out to you. “Pump me full of cum in my ass, give me my first anal creampie–” Her palm presses against your chest, and she’s pushing you away, your cock pulling out of her pucker. “Gotta wait a little while longer first, sexy.”
She’s pushed you back down the couch, your dick aching and throbbing and fuck you’re so close as she's grabbing the bottle of lube and pouring the remains of it in her hand. Lathering her palm up and grabbing hold of your length to give you another coating. “I want a ride.”
You let out a shaky exhale as she turns around and gets on your lap, legs up on the couch next to your legs as she takes hold of your cock one more, giving you quick tugs before she points the tip right back into her asshole. You’re both letting out pleasured noises as your cockhead widens her hole, taking you back in her intense tightness.
She takes you in faster than the first time, taking you in your entirety as she sinks down, her plush ass meeting your groin. A hum comes out her lips, grinding down and gyrating her hips, making you groan out in response.
“Fuck, Aeri, babe–” You snap your mouth shut, the petname slipping from your lips like it was the natural. As if you should’ve been calling her that from the start. The revelation sparks something in you, and you can feel it in her too.
“Yeah?” She’s looking back at you, rocking her hips back and forth, that damn smile that’s on her lips telling you everything that it is you need to know. Your hands come to rest on her waist, and the curl of her lips widens into a grin. “Need something, sexy?”
“I need you–” A strangled moan cuts you off as she starts to bounce on your lap, not even bothering to hear the rest of your answer. She already knows what you need—what you’re craving for. It's gotten you both wanting it, a hunger that's grown out of control.
And when she said she's riding, she means it. Hands on your chest, fucking herself on your cock so hard it makes the couch creak, and you're left holding on for dear life. Her hole so overwhelmingly snug around you, clenching and pulsing at every second that you're inside of her that your grip on her waist gets firmer. Her moans grow louder, filthy phrases coming out of her in droves.
You know you're not going to last at this point—understandably so, when she's set her sights on having your load inside her ass—but you want this to prolong this for as long as you can. And that makes you move.
Fingers roam down to find her clit, and you begin drawing circles around the swollen nub. Your other comes up to a breast, cupping and kneading and getting Aeri off her relentless pace.
“Fuck–” Aeri stumbles, moans and arches her back when your fingers plunge into her dripping cunt, before her body falls down. Almost laying limp on your lap as your cock feels so snug inside her hole. “That's not fair–”
“All's fair in love and war, baby.” You thrust upward; once, enough to get her keening. Twice, and she's mewling at you. Arm wrapping around your neck when you take her ass once more.
“Oh, fuck off with that.” Aeri's chuckling, laughing at your words, pulling you into a messy kiss to dampen the moans she's letting out. It's of no use, when you're fucking her so well it makes her cries all the more bewitching. That exquisite symphony she's creating as she pulls away, sending music straight to your ears mixed in with the unfiltered filth coming out of her mouth. “Just–fuck me, sexy–fuck my ass till–till you cum in me–fuck me harder–”
You settle into your own flow; fingers pulling out of her soaked pussy just as you thrust into her ass, the sounds that she makes are as beautiful as the day you first heard her sob her name in pleasure. And yet, even when you’re in control, the only thing that it’s done was send you falling down deeper, sending you closer and closer to having your load deep in her ass.
Aeri knows—and she wants you to. Fucking begs you to, whispering so much depravity in your ears as a hand comes to help you out, circling her clit with her digits as your own are fucking her folds. She’s leaving kisses along your neck, clenching her walls around you, tightening around your fingers, your cock.
“Come on, sexy–cum for me, cum in my tight little virgin asshole–” There’s a delirious giggle mixed in with them, your pounding getting harder, faster, deeper. The reminder sends you into overdrive, makes you groan, your name being whispered so wantonly that you can’t hold it back any longer.
Your fingers come out of her cunt, choosing to grope her breasts just as your hips meet her ass, sinking every inch of yourself inside of her ass, and you finish—spurts of white flooding Aeri’s tight ass, your vision blurring. Your fingers dig into the pert flesh as your orgasm is so overwhelmingly, mind-fuckingly stupidly hard you think you would pass out from the sheer act of cumming.
The only tangible thought in your brain is that you’re cumming inside Uchinaga Aeri’s ass, the very first to do so, and that only makes your release all the more monolithic that you start seeing stars.
Her own climax follows, her screams all you can comprehend aside from her body convulsing on top of you, her muscles clenching, milking you of every drop of cum, wanting it all dumped inside her ass. Your name repeats off her lips like a mantra, silenced only when her mouth comes crashing towards yours. Desperately, softly, never wanting to let you go from her arms.
You respond in kind, pouring every bit of emotion you can into the kiss. Kissing her until your balls stop cumming, until your lips turn raw, until the need of air hits your lungs. And even when one of you pulls away the other comes to lean in for soft, needy pecks. Even when Aeri’s coming up to release your spent cock out of her asshole, feeling your load drip down her hole and onto your shaft, your thighs, the leather—you’ve come to spoon her in your arms, holding onto her as if she’s the only thing that matters right now.
And she is. Really, truly is.
You couldn’t dwell on it for much longer when she lets out an airy laugh. “I can’t feel my legs,” she says, slumping into your embrace. “God, that was–what the fuck was that even?” There’s disbelief in her tone as she looks at you.
“You're asking me,” you chuckle, catching your breath as the aftermath of your debauchery lingers in your body. “You're the one that offered.”
“Hope you liked your birthday gift then.” Her legs stretch, and you're pulling her down to lay on the couch.
“Loved it, Aeri–hey!” You flinch as the pinch she gives your arm. “What was that for?”
“You called me something else earlier,” she explains, moving to lay on top of you, her chin resting on your chest. “Call me that again.”
“What, are we–” You're almost afraid of opening this topic up. That even after this, you're still so hesitant of something you know in your heart you shouldn't be. “Are we putting a label on us now?”
“I mean, aren't we something?” she asks, an eyebrow raising. “We've known each other a while, we've fucked a few times–shit, you just fucked my ass–” Both of you chuckle at that. “And you're the only guy that's stayed. That means a lot to me.”
“You mean a lot to me,” you say, hand coming to cup her cheek, brushing a strand of crimson stuck on her cheek. “A lot more than you know.”
She leans into your touch, cheeks reddening at your words. “We don't gotta rush anything, you know. We can even count this as our first date.”
“I don't know about that one.” You laugh along with her.
“Why not?” There's that familiar mischief twinkling in her eyes. “We watched a movie, shot airsoft, had sex at the end–” She inches closer to your face. “I'd say it's a wonderful first date.”
“Does that mean you put out on the first date too?” you joke, and she rolls her eyes at you.
“Only to guys I really like.” She smiles, all teeth and confidence. “And right now, it's only happened once.”
“Must be a lucky guy then.” You can't help but grin right back at her, before you lean in for a kiss.
Aeri smiles into it, an arm coming to rest at your nape. “So?” she mutters into your lips, pulling away just enough to ask you. “What'll it be, sexy?”
“Sure, baby,” you answer, and she seals your agreement with a kiss. You feel yourself come alive, an emotion you've long given up on being evoked by her. And it rejuvenates you, your length twitching back to life with each kiss exchanged.
She senses it too, wiggling her hips at you. “Someone's happy.”
“Can't help it,” you say, peppering her neck with kisses. “You bring it out of me, I guess.”
Aeri scoffs playfully. “You're just happy your dick's getting wet again.”
“Well, I was gonna ask if you want to go out for dinner next week–” You shrug, and she pauses to look at you. “By that new Chinese spot we passed by last time.”
“Thought you'd never ask.” Aeri softens, looking at you with such fondness it makes your heart skip a beat. It comes as quick as it goes however, that usual playfulness returning to her eyes. “Now, would you like your baby to help you with this?”
She's grinding against you, your length hard and throbbing at her actions.
You shake your head. This girl, sometimes. Wouldn't change her for the world.
“If my baby would be so kind to.”
Aeri grins, leaving a trail of kisses down from your lip, to your neck, your chest, your stomach, until she reaches your cock.
"I told him, 'Boy, does it look like I could care, I couldn't even care less!'"
"Aww, I'm sorry to hear that."
"Yeah, what an asshole right?"
"Mmhmm, yeah, I guess."
H2H stands for head to head, specifically when Jiwoo dings herself against your head and kisses you, a hit of something she really shouldn't have. She's all over you, kissing you hungrily.
"You could afford to be a little nicer to my groupmates." Her hands slip under your t-shirt.
"What did Stella say this time?" You leave her jacket on the floor.
"You said she was rude?" She leaves a hickey on your neck.
"I said she was impudent." You pull her top off and leave one on her chest.
"And she called you an asshole." Down go your shorts.
"Like I said, impudent." Flip up her skirt and pull down her panties.
"It'll help me if you're nice." Jiwoo sinks down.
"How, they're not supposed to find out about us." You thrust up. "Not supposed to know why their leader keeps her jerk friend around." Jiwoo whines as you slip a hand under her bra, pinching her nipple not too gently.
H2H stands for hip to hip, and that's exactly what you two are, your hips flush against Jiwoo's as you bend her over the bed.
"Harder! Please harder!" There's no more talk about being nice to anyone.
"Yeah? Harder?" You slam yourself forward—Jiwoo's hips are going to show bruises if she wears her jeans too low.
"Yes, make me take it, give it to me!" Deep, hard, fast, the three things Choi Jiwoo kept you around for. "Hnngh so big!" That too. Her legs sag as she begins to lose strength, but you have enough for both of you. You keep her pinned against the bed, making her yelp and wail. Jiwoo came to you to let loose, for stress relief, or whatever other excuse she tells herself.
To feel good.
And Jiwoo came plenty of course—there’s already a wet spot on the floor, and she's due to make it a pool before you're done with her.
"Oh fuck I'm cumming again!" she shudders, and the puddle of slick grows beneath her.
"Give me one more Jiwoo." You rub her clit, and she can already feel it coming.
"Yes please..."
H2H stands for head to head again, but this time Jiwoo's lips are pressed against your tip, enveloping it as she kneels in her own wet spot and strokes you off.
"Don't swallow," you grunt as she gets you off, filling her mouth and making sure she tastes your saltiness, your cum pooling on her tongue. "Now spill it."
Jiwoo shifts slightly, and your load flows out, covering your head, leaking out the sides of her mouth, dripping off her chin and joining the mess on the floor—it is utterly obscene perfection.
"Mm!" She waves her hand vaguely, but you're already handing her a tissue, H2H also stands for how the tissue travels, hand to hand.
"Why do you always make me do that?" Jiwoo mutters as she finally cleans your load from her mouth.
"Because you look hot when you make a mess."
"I—" Jiwoo glares but doesn't continue. "I'm going to wash up."
"Should I stay or do you want me to head out first?"
"Stay."
H2H ultimately stands for heart to heart, your chest pressed against her back, slow heartbeats soothing each other as you spoon her.
"How is everything?" you mumble into her neck.
"Good, alright... A lot," Jiwoo finally admits.
"A lot, but manageable?"
"Barely."
"Knew you could do it, you're doing great."
"For now."
"I'm here. Add all the qualifiers you want, but I'm here always." You can feel Jiwoo's heart rate rise against your chest.
"Treat them nicer then, for me."
"You really want them to think better of me?"
"I'd rather hear them complain about other stuff than you." Jiwoo brings your hand to her heart—hand over hand, hand over heart. "For when they find out."
*****
"Whoa Jiwoo unnie, look!" There's a huge coffee cart outside their filming spot, and Jiwoo's face is plastered all over it. "Who got this for you? You're so lucky!"
"Ah, I'm not sure..." Jiwoo had an idea.
"They're such a big fan of you!"
"Yeah, big umm, fan." Jiwoo blushes and gets in line for coffee.
"Unnie, your guy friend, do you know what he said to me yesterday?" Oh no, here we go again.
"No, what?"
Sorry.
A/N: Just a short thing, mainly wanted to make a bunch of "puns" about H2H and what each could stand for: head, hand, hips, hearts lol. Rude's also a fun song so I had to include those lines XD Jiwoo gives big Saerom vibes. Thanks for reading!
Hello all! I present to you my submission for our server's latest prompt challenge, where my task was to write a story using the time of sunset, and the added challenge of "The story must open with the end of the time duration, then rewind to the beginning and play through again".
Hope you guys like it <3
~~~
"You lasted longer than I thought you would," she says between breaths, and even now—completely fucked out, thighs still trembling—she's got that fucking pleased little smirk on her face.
You don't have the energy to respond, just managing to flip her the bird while you stare at the ceiling, pulse still racing.
There are scratches down your back that sting when you shift position, her nails having carved you up badly when you'd finally pinned her against the mattress.
The sheets are ruined—no saving them. Not with the mix of sweat, cum, and whatever's left of Yujin's makeup smeared across the fabric. She's sprawled beside you, chest still heaving, her hair a complete disaster fanned across the pillow. Her sundress is crumpled by the door, one strap torn clean off.
Yujin rolls onto her side to face you, and you can see the aftermath of everything that just happened all over her body. Her lipstick is smeared from her mouth to her jaw, dark bruises already forming on her neck and collarbones. Cum is still leaking from between her thighs, making a mess on skin that's flushed and marked with your fingerprints.
"Worth it though, right?" She traces a finger down your chest, lazy and satisfied, like she's admiring her handiwork.
"You're impossible," you finally manage.
"You love it."
She's not wrong.
~~~
Six hours earlier, you'd been stupid enough to think this would be a normal date.
Yujin had texted you that morning with a simple "pick me up at 2 <3" and you'd thought—fine, easy. Lunch, maybe walk around, watch the sunset over dinner. Standard relationship stuff. You should've known better the second you pulled up and saw what she was wearing.
The sundress is light blue, thin cotton that does absolutely nothing to hide the fact she's not wearing a bra. It hugs her waist before flowing down to mid-thigh, and when she bounces over to the car, you can see everything move in ways that make it very clear she planned this outfit specifically to fuck with you.
It's working.
"Hi baby," she says sweetly, sliding into the passenger seat and leaning over to kiss your cheek. Innocent enough, except her hand lands directly on your thigh and stays there while she buckles her seatbelt.
"You're evil," you tell her.
"I'm adorable." She grins, adjusting the dress that's already riding up her thighs. "Where are we going?"
"That café you wanted to try."
The drive is only ten minutes, but Yujin makes it feel like an hour. Her hand doesn't leave your thigh, fingers tracing lazy patterns while she chatters about her week. Every time you glance over, she's doing something designed to distract you—adjusting her hair so the dress pulls tighter across her chest, crossing and uncrossing her legs, biting her bottom lip while she looks out the window.
At the café, she orders an iced vanilla latte and immediately wraps her lips around the straw in a way that's just absolutely not necessary for drinking coffee.
You watch her take a slow sip, eyes locked on yours.
"What?" she asks, like she doesn't know exactly what she's doing.
"Nothing," you mutter, taking a drink of your own coffee and trying to focus on literally anything else.
She leans forward on her elbows, and the neckline of her dress dips low enough that you can see the curve of her tits. "You seem tense."
"I'm fine."
"Mm." She doesn't believe you, and that little smirk says she knows exactly why you're tense.
You finish your coffees and decide to walk through the nearby park since the weather's nice and you're clearly a masochist. Yujin loops her arm through yours, pressing close enough that you can feel the heat of her body through that thin dress.
"Isn't this romantic?" she says, full of fake innocence as her free hand traces up your arm.
"Very," you say flatly.
She's already sliding that hand down, lacing her fingers with yours, bringing your joined hands to rest at her hip where the dress cinches.
The park is busier than you expected—couples on blankets, families with kids, people walking dogs. Yujin doesn't seem to care. She steers you toward a quieter path lined with trees, and the second you're out of immediate sight, she stops and turns to face you.
"I want a picture," she announces, already pulling out her phone.
"You take like fifty pictures a day."
"And I'm going to take fifty-one." She steps close, arm around your waist, phone up for a selfie. You're about to smile when her ass presses back against your crotch—a deliberate roll of her hips.
You grab her waist on reflex.
The camera clicks.
Wow. That is not a graceful expression.
"Perfect," she says, grinning at the photo before tucking the phone away.
She doesn't move away from you. You don't let go of her waist. She leans her head back against your shoulder.
"You're being very well-behaved so far."
"I'm being patient."
"And how long do you think that'll last?" She turns in your arms, and suddenly you're face to face with her, close enough to kiss. Her hands slide up your chest, fingers playing with the collar of your shirt. You can smell her perfume, feel her breath against your mouth.
"Yujin—"
"What?" Those big, innocent eyes blink at you, like she's never done a thing wrong her entire life. Her thigh presses between your legs, just enough pressure to make her point. "We're just taking pictures, baby."
Someone walks past on the main path and you step back, mostly to maintain some semblance of dignity in public. Yujin just laughs, bright and delighted, before grabbing your hand and pulling you back toward the park exit.
"Come on, I want to look at the shops before dinner."
The boutique she drags you into is small, full of expensive clothes and a bored-looking attendant who barely glances up when you enter. Yujin immediately starts browsing through racks, pulling out dresses and holding them up against her body.
"What do you think of this one?" A black one that would barely cover her ass.
"It's short."
"That's not a no." She grins and drapes it over her arm, moving to the next rack. You follow behind. Her fingers trail over the different materials, hips swaying just a little more than necessary.
She disappears into the dressing room with three dresses, and you lean against the wall outside to wait. The curtain doesn't close all the way—you can see flashes of movement, the sundress pooling at her feet. Then her hand appears, crooking a finger at you.
"I need a second opinion," she calls out.
You glance at the attendant, who's fully absorbed in her phone, and slip behind the curtain.
Yujin is standing in just her panties. Holding up one of the dresses in front of her body.
Not wearing it.
The dressing room mirror shows everything—the curve of her bare tits, those panties sitting low on her hips, the cheeky smile that says she knows exactly what she’s doing.
"Well?"
"You're not even wearing it," you point out.
"I wanted to see your reaction first." She drops the dress entirely, closing the small distance between you. Her hands find your belt, fingers tracing the leather. "Are you going to do something about it?"
"There's a person right outside."
"So you'll have to be quiet." She's already popping the button on your jeans, and fuck, her hand sliding into your boxers is not helping your resolve.
You grab her wrist, stopping her before this gets completely out of hand. "Get dressed. We have dinner reservations."
The look she gives you is pure frustration, but there's need underneath it. "You're no fun."
"I'm RESPONSIBLE."
"I don't like responsible," she pouts, but she lets you pull her hand away and picks the sundress back up. You slip out before you do something stupid.
She emerges a minute later. Doesn't buy any of the clothes she tried on.
She does, however, grab your ass when you're walking out of the store.
"An Yujin."
"Hand slipped!"
The restaurant is one of those places with floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the water. You'd picked it specifically because Yujin mentioned wanting to watch the sunset over dinner.
Romantic as hell. Seemed like a good idea this morning.
You’re having second thoughts.
The golden light of the sunset coming through the windows catches in Yujin's hair when she sits down, makes her skin glow in a way that's entirely unfair. She's gorgeous in normal lighting, but with a sunset behind her she looks… unreal.
"This place is beautiful," she says, and she actually sounds genuine for once, looking out at the water where the sun is starting to paint the sky in shades of orange and pink.
"Yeah," you manage, trying to focus on your own menu and not the way the light is hitting her.
The waiter comes by and you both order—she gets the salmon, you get the steak, and she requests a wine she definitely can't pronounce but sounds expensive. (She knows you’re paying, after all). She's suspiciously polite, ordering without any funny business.
Then the waiter leaves and you feel her foot slide up your calf.
"Yujin."
"What?" She’s staring at the sunset like she’s never done a thing wrong in her life.
"We're in public."
"I'm just getting comfortable." She blinks at you as her foot reaches your thigh and stays there, and you become very aware of how thin her dress is, how the sunset behind her makes it… almost see-through in places…
The wine arrives and she takes a slow sip, eyes on you over the rim of the glass. When she sets it down, her hand disappears under the table, and a second later you feel her fingers on your knee, sliding up your thigh with clear intent.
"Can't you just wait for the food," you plead, grabbing her wrist under the table.
"I'm not hungry for food." She leans forward, and the neckline of her dress dips dangerously low. The sunset behind her creates this halo effect that would be romantic if she wasn't currently trying to get her hand on your cock in a public restaurant.
You don't let go of her wrist, keeping her hand firmly on your thigh and nowhere else. "Behave."
"Make me," she says, and there's that fucking smirk again.
The food arrives. You let go of her hand so the waiter can set down the plates.
Yujin thanks him sweetly. He's barely gone before her hand is back—making it all the way to your crotch before you can stop her.
She palms you through your jeans, and fuck, you're already half-hard from her teasing all day. Her fingers trace the outline of your cock while she cuts into her salmon with her other hand like nothing's happening.
"How's your food?" she asks conversationally.
"Yujin, I swear to god—"
"You should try the salmon, it's really good." She takes a bite, and her hand squeezes you just enough to make you bite back a groan.
The sun is almost touching the horizon now, the entire sky turning brilliant shades of orange and red. The light hits her face and she looks like a fucking angel.
An evil little cock-teasing angel who’s decided getting you off under the table is way more fun than eating.
"You're so hard already," she murmurs, leaning closer like she's sharing a secret. Her hand works you through the denim, and you're trying to keep your expression neutral while she's clearly enjoying watching you struggle.
"Stop," you say, but it comes out strained.
"You don't want me to stop." Her thumb finds the head of your cock through your jeans, rubbing in slow circles. "You've been wanting to fuck me since I got in your car."
She's not wrong, and you're done.
You grab her wrist, pull her hand away. Harder than necessary. "We're leaving."
"But we haven't finished—"
"Now, Yujin."
Pure triumph on her face. This is exactly what she wanted.
She doesn't argue, just grabs her purse while you flag down the waiter and hand him your card without even looking at the bill.
The sun is halfway below the horizon when you walk out, the sky on fire with color, and Yujin is practically skipping to the car.
She beats you to the passenger side, slides in with that pleased smile still on her face.
You're barely in the driver's seat. She's already leaning over the center console, hand on your thigh again.
"That was mean," she says, not sounding very sorry at all.
"You started it." You turn the key and pull out of the parking lot faster than necessary, and the sky is deepening now—brilliant orange fading to pink and purple at the edges.
"So you're admitting I won?"
"I'm admitting I'm going to fuck you until you can't walk."
The way her breath catches is supremely satisfying, but she recovers quick. "Promises, promises."
Her hand slides higher on your thigh and you grab it, pinning it in place. "You're going to make me crash."
"Then drive faster."
"You… want me to make our crash worse?"
"Just drive, idiot!"
The sunset is in your rearview mirror now, the sky ahead darker where night is already creeping in. You make it maybe two minutes before her other hand finds your belt, and you have to move your grip to catch that one too.
"Yujin."
"What? I'm just sitting here." She's absolutely not just sitting there—she's shifted in her seat so that dress is riding up her thighs, and when you glance over at a red light, you can see the lace edge of her panties.
"You're insane."
"You love it," she says again, and manages to get one hand free to palm you through your jeans. You're fully hard now, have been since the restaurant, and her touch makes you grip the steering wheel hard enough that your knuckles go white.
The light turns green. You have to let go of her to shift gears.
She takes full advantage—gets the button of your jeans open before you can stop her.
"Jesus Christ, Yujin—"
"Keep your eyes on the road, baby." Her hand slips into your boxers, fingers wrapping around your cock, and the feeling of her actually touching you after hours of teasing makes you groan.
You catch her wrist but don't pull her away, too far gone to pretend you don't want this. The sky outside is streaked with the last colors of sunset, deep purple and orange, and her hand is stroking you slowly while you're trying to drive through downtown traffic.
"Let me reiterate. You, me, a semi-truck, all meeting in less than a second if you don't get your stupidly smooth hand off my cock."
She laughs but settles back in her seat, pulling her hand away with clear reluctance. You make it three more blocks before you have to pull over at another red light, and the second the car stops you're hauling her in for a kiss.
It's messy and desperate, her mouth opening for you immediately, and your hand finds her thigh, pushing that dress up until you can feel the heat of her through those thin panties. She's soaked, and when you press against her she makes this needy sound that goes straight to your cock.
Someone honks behind you and you realize the light's green.
"Fuck," you mutter, pulling back and trying to focus on driving. Your hand stays on her thigh though, high enough that your fingers brush against the lace edge of her panties every time you shift.
The sun is gone now, just the afterglow painting the sky, and you can see your building up ahead. Yujin sees it too, and her hand goes right back to your cock, stroking you through your open jeans.
"Almost there," she purrs, and you don't know if she means the building or something else entirely.
You pull into your spot and kill the engine, and then you're both out of the car and you're crowding her against the door, kissing her hard while she fumbles with your keys. She gets the door open and you're inside, kicking it shut behind you, and her back hits the wall in the entryway.
"Now?" she asks breathlessly, and there's triumph in her voice even now.
You don't even dignify her with an answer.
The dress hits the floor before you've even moved away from the door, and Yujin's hands are already pulling at your shirt, yanking it over your head while you work your jeans down. She's in just those lace panties now, and you can see the wet spot where she's been soaked for hours.
"Took you long enough," she breathes, but you shut her up by shoving her harder against the wall and kissing her like you're trying to devour her whole.
Your hand slides between her legs, fingers pressing against the soaked lace, and she gasps into your mouth. "You've been wet all fucking day, haven't you?"
"Since the car," she admits, hips rolling against your hand. "Maybe before."
You hook your fingers in her panties and drag them down her legs, and the second they're off you're dropping to your knees. Her eyes go wide.
"Wait, I thought you were going to—oh fuck!"
Your mouth is on her pussy before she can finish the sentence. Tongue dragging through her folds.
She tastes as good as she looks.
Your hands grip her thighs, holding her against the wall while you eat her out like you're starving for it. Maybe you are, after the torture she's put you through today.
"Oh god, oh f-fuck, yes—" Her hands fist in your hair, and she's trying to grind against your face, shameless and desperate. You focus on her clit, sucking it between your lips, and her whole body jerks.
You don't. You work her with your tongue until her thighs are shaking, until she's practically sobbing, and when she cums it's with your name broken on her lips and her pussy clenching against nothing.
She's still trembling when you stand up and kiss her, letting her taste herself on your tongue. "Bedroom. Now."
"Fuck the bedroom," she pants, already reaching for your cock. "Right here."
Her hand wraps around you and strokes, and you're so fucking hard it almost hurts. But you catch her wrist, spin her around so she's facing the wall, and kick her legs apart.
"You wanted this so badly," you growl against her ear, lining yourself up. "So take it."
You push into her in one thrust and she cries out, hands splaying against the wall for balance. She's so wet and tight that you have to pause, breathing hard, trying not to cum immediately like a teenager.
"Move," she demands, pushing her hips back. "Fuck me already."
"Greedy, aren't we?"
You pull out and slam back in, and the sound she makes is perfect—broken and needy and so fucking desperate. You set a brutal pace, one hand on her hip and the other sliding up to grip her throat, not squeezing, just holding her in place while you fuck up into her.
"Yes, yes, fuck, harder—"
The angle is incredible, and you can feel her getting wetter with every thrust, slick dripping down her thighs. Your grip tightens on her hip, hard enough to leave marks, and she loves it, pushing back to meet you.
"Is this what you wanted?" you ask, voice rough. "Teasing me all day just so I'd fuck you like this?"
"Yes," she gasps. "Knew you'd—ah!—knew you'd s-snap eventually."
You pull out suddenly. She whines at the loss.
Then you're turning her around, lifting her up. Her legs wrap around your waist automatically. You push back inside her, using the wall for leverage.
"Oh fuck, so deep—" Her nails dig into your shoulders, and you can feel her pussy clenching around you, tight and perfect.
You kiss her while you fuck her, messy and hard, and she's moaning into your mouth. The angle has you hitting the spot inside that makes her gasp every time, and her tits are pressed against your chest, nipples hard.
"Gonna cum again," she warns, "don't stop, please—"
"Cum on my cock," you tell her. "Let me feel it."
She does, her whole body tensing and then releasing, pussy spasming around you in a way that almost takes you over the edge. You carry her to the couch—fuck the bedroom—and lay her down, pulling out just long enough to flip her onto her stomach.
"Ass up," you command, and she scrambles to obey, presenting herself to you.
The view is impeccable—her pussy swollen and dripping, cum already leaking out of her. You push back inside and she moans into the cushions, and this angle lets you go even deeper.
You fuck her hard, hands gripping her hips. The wet sounds of your cock driving into her pussy fill the room.
She's babbling now—words barely coherent, just broken pleas and your name and "yes" over and over.
"So fucking perfect," you groan, watching your cock disappear into her. Wet coating your shaft. Dripping down to make a mess on the couch. "Look at you, taking it so well."
"More," she gasps. "Harder, p-please, I need—"
You give her what she wants, slamming into her with enough force that she has to brace herself against the arm of the couch. Her pussy clenches around you, still sensitive from cumming twice already, and you can feel how close you are.
Your hand slides around to find her clit. She practically screams, body jerking. "Can't, too much, I can't—"
"Yes you can." Your fingers rub tight circles. "Cum with me."
She's shaking, thighs trembling, and you can feel her getting tighter. You lean over her, changing the angle, and she sobs out something that might be your name.
"Gonna fill you up," you warn, thrusts getting erratic. "Gonna cum so deep inside you."
"Please," she begs, "please, I want it, want you to—fuck!"
She cums first, pussy spasming around your cock, and that's all it takes to drag you over with her. You slam in one final time and cum hard, spilling deep inside her while she moans. You can feel it flooding her, so much that it starts leaking out around your cock even while you're still inside her.
You stay buried in her for a long moment, both of you breathing hard, before finally pulling out. Your cum immediately starts dripping down her thighs, obscene and perfect, and she's so thoroughly fucked that she just stays there, ass in the air, too wrecked to move.
"Bed," you finally manage.
She makes a sound that might be agreement. You both stumble to the bedroom, collapse onto the sheets.
You should probably stop.
You don't stop.
You're on her immediately, pinning her wrists above her head, and she gasps when you push back inside her. She's oversensitive and so fucking wet—cum from earlier mixed with how turned on she still is—and the slide is almost too easy.
"Sure you can handle one more round?" she teases, but her legs are already wrapping around your waist, pulling you deeper.
"You started this," you remind her, rolling your hips. "We finish when I say we finish."
She moans, head falling back against the pillow, and you take the opportunity to bite down on her neck, hard enough to leave another mark. Her pussy clenches around you in response, and you can feel how swollen she is, how thoroughly fucked.
You let go of her wrists, brace yourself above her.
Her hands find your back. Nails dig in immediately, dragging down your shoulder blades as you thrust into her.
The sting is perfect.
"Fuck, Yujin—"
"Harder," she demands, and her nails scrape down your back again, definitely breaking skin this time. "Give it to me harder!"
You shift the angle, driving deeper, and she cries out. The bed frame is hitting the wall with every thrust, and the sheets are getting soaked beneath her—sweat and cum and her pussy dripping everywhere.
"Look at me," you tell her, and when her eyes meet yours they're glazed and desperate. "This is what you wanted all day, isn't it? To get fucked until you can't think straight?"
"Yes," she gasps, nails carving new lines down your back. "Yes, god, don't stop—"
You don't. You fuck her hard into the mattress, one hand gripping her hip while the other slides up to wrap around her throat. Not squeezing, just holding her there while you fuck her apart.
She's babbling again, that incoherent mix of your name and "fuck" and "please," and you can feel her getting close. Her nails are brutal on your back, scratching hard enough that you know you'll be marked for days.
"Gonna cum again?" you ask, and she nods frantically.
"Can't help it, you're so deep, I can't—"
"Do it," you command. "Cum on my cock one more time."
She does, and it's like her whole body seizes up. Her nails rake down your back viciously as she screams, pussy clamping down so tight around you that it's almost painful. The sensation drags your own orgasm out of you, and you bury yourself as deep as possible, filling her up for the second time.
You can feel it mixing with the first load, so much cum that it's leaking out around your cock, soaking into the sheets beneath you. When you finally pull out, the evidence is everywhere—her thighs covered in it, the sheets stained, her pussy absolutely wrecked and dripping.
You collapse beside her, and she immediately sprawls out, chest heaving. Her makeup is completely destroyed now, smeared down her face, and her hair is a disaster. She looks thoroughly, completely fucked.
Perfect.
Your back is on fire where she scratched you, and when you shift, the sting reminds you of every mark she left.
"You lasted longer than I thought you would," she says between breaths, and even now—completely fucked out, thighs still trembling—she's got that fucking pleased little smile on her face.
You don't have the energy to respond, just managing to flip her the bird while you stare at the ceiling, pulse still racing.
~~~
Sorry for the wait! I have a big project waiting to go, and also maybe another Twice smut that should be out within the next week or two :)
It has been decided. Jeewon fic for no other reason than I was reminded of these pictures, and the plot came naturally.
Length 2.5K
Jeewon X Mreader
Jeewon’s head bobs slowly as she takes her time with her actions. She pants, already tired but still using what energy she has left. Her body is slick with sweat, uniform sticking to her skin. “Is this good, Master?” she asks, her chest heaving. “Am I doing a good job?”
You pat her head, “You’re doing well, but keep going.”
“B-but I’m so tired.”
“You’re not done yet.” You tell her plainly. “And here I thought you were a good maid.”
“I’m a good maid, I’m a good maid,” she repeats, her motions slowly to a crawl.
You stare at the young woman. “C’mon, Jeewon, you’ve barely been working for 10 minutes.”
“10 minutes!? It’s only been ten minutes?” You sigh as you look at your worn-out maid. She had only been cleaning the floor for ten minutes, and she was in such a state. You already knew Jeewon was kind of hopeless when it came to actual made work, but this was taking things to an extreme.
“Yes, it’s been ten minutes. I don’t even know how you’re sweating that much.” You place your hand on her forehead and realize that she wasn’t even sweating. While you weren’t looking, she must’ve sprayed herself with water to make it look like she was working up a sweat. “Is this water?”
Jeewon looks away, knowing she’s been caught. “N-no,”
You lightly smack the back of her head. “You idiot, this is totally water.” You look at the cart Jeewon had nearby and see the spray bottle, the tip leaking. You grab the bottle, “You just sprayed yourself with this!”
“Nuh uh!” Jeewon denied your claim; it was all she could do despite the evidence against her. It was circumstantial at best, but she had absolutely sprayed herself with water and made herself look tired for the sake of getting a break. “Ack!’ Jeewon recoils as you spritz her with the water.
“Bad, bad maid,” you tell her, spraying her again. Jeewon shuts her eyes, her entire face grimacing as you spray her two more times. “I swear, you can barely get any work done. You’re only good at one thing.”
“Does that mean-“
“No,” Jeewon frowns; her hands were already on the buttons of her uniform. You grab the other broom in her cart. “We’re going to finish this together.” The ends of her lips curl into a slight smile. The two of you work together to sweep the floor, the first step in cleaning it, as you move on to mopping after. Jeewon complains the entire time, saying things like her legs hurt, her hands hurt, and she couldn’t see. Her explanations for wanting breaks got wilder the longer this went on, but eventually, you were able to finish cleaning the floor. “Alright, that’s enough for now.”
Jeewon lets out a long sigh and throws herself onto your couch, covering her face with her arm and taking deep breaths as if she had just completed a marathon. You grab the spray bottle and walk over to the tired woman, pointing it right at her, “Jeewon.”
She moves her arm, shutting her eyes as she feels the water hitting her face. “Ah,” she yelps. She tries to cover herself, but you grab her hands and force them over her head.
“Bad, bad maid.” You repeat.
“But I did the work!”
“I had to help you, and even then, I did most of it!” You spray her twice more, then put the bottle down. You walk away from the scene, letting Jeewon rest. While you had planned to clean more of the house, it was quite obvious that even with Jeewon around, the task would still take up all day. You go to your room and lie down. From the couch, Jeewon hears your door shut. She sits up immediately and scurries over to the bathroom. She unbuttons the front of her uniform, unrestricting her heavy mounds. She reaches behind her, her fingers struggling to reach the zipper, brushing against the small piece of metal.
“C’mon, almost got it,” she mumbles, turning around so she could see how close she was in the mirror. Jeewon pinched it after struggling for minutes and pulled the zipper down. She sighed with relief as her maid uniform started to fall. She let it drop to the floor. Jeewon smiled to herself as she looked in the mirror. The intricate bra she wore pushed her bust up and together, making her already large rack look bigger. Her matching panties hugged her lower half well, digging in just that little bit to where her ass looked fuller as well. As good as Jeewon looked, she knew it would all come off quickly. She unsnapped her bra and held the cups against her chest. She carefully laid it on the vanity. Jeewon grabbed at her breasts, squeezing the large mounds and letting out a soft moan. She brought her fingertip around her nipple, the soft nub slowly growing hard as she ran her fingernail over the top of it. She flicked the now hard nub a few times, her moans continuing to flow. Jeewon stopped pulling her hands away from her pale flesh, knowing that if she didn’t stop now, she wouldn’t stop until she came.
Jeewon slipped her fingers under her panties, pulling them down until they naturally fell. She placed the thin piece of cloth beside her bra and looked at herself in the mirror, adjusting her hair before smiling again.
Now she was ready.
Jeewon made her way to your room. Her eyes were shining as she opened the door and saw you lying there, your cock hard as you slept. She climbed onto your bed, crawling until she was right next to you. She kisses your cheek before reaching into your pants and grabbing your cock. Jeewon licks her lips, her eyes glancing at your crotch. She lets go for a moment, pulling your pants down so she’d have easier access. Once your cock was free, she started jerking you off. Her hand moved slowly from base to tip, her thumb rubbing the slit as it leaked precum. You moaned softly, your eyes cracking open to see Jeewon lying next to you. “Jeewon? Is it that time again?”
“Yes, Master.” The time you were referring to was the only thing Jeewon seemed to enjoy and do well at. It was pretty much the reason you kept her around, considering her skills as a regular maid. Jeewon raised her chest, offering you one of her tits. You latch onto the pale mound, your tongue swirling around her pink nipple as you suck on her tit. Jeewon moans softly, smiling as her hand continues to move along your shaft. “You’re so good at this, Master.” You squeeze Jeewon’s other tit, making sure they both get the attention they deserve. Jeewon’s big tits were soft, like pillows; you couldn’t help but squeeze them. When your thumb found her hard nub, you toyed with it, resting your thumb on top of it and moving it around like it was some sort of joystick. Because Jeewon’s nipples were sensitive, she found pleasure in it. She rubbed her legs together, her body already craving more action.
She stayed still, however, letting her hand glide along your length until she felt it begin to throb. “It would be a waste if you came in my hand, Master. Why don’t you put it inside?” She asks kindly.
You nod along, letting go of her chest. Jeewon giggles as she gets on all fours, shaking her ass for you. You get behind your maid, watching her ass jiggle. You give her a sharp smack, making her yelp. “Mmm, Master.” She hisses. You press the tip of your cock against her entrance, teasing her by rubbing it against her slit instead of immediately going in. Jeewon whines, “Master! Please, I want it inside me!” You laugh and continue to tease her for a few moments longer, coating your length in her nectar to prepare. Once you’re ready, you press the tip against her entrance again. This time, you ram your length into her tight cunt.
You grabbed Jeewon’s pig tails, wrapping her hair around your hands and pulling her head back as you drove your cock into her again. “M-Master,” she mumbled. Jeewon’s eyes were rolling into the back of her head. Your deep, quick thrusts were making her a mess. You look to the side at the mirror and see the beautiful sight of Jeewon’s big tits swinging back and forth as you move inside her. Your thrusts become rougher, and the sounds of your bodies colliding fill the room as Jeewon cries out with pleasure. “M-Master’s cock—filling me,” she mumbles, half thoughts coming and going.
The sight of Jeewon’s swinging tits was too much for you. You let go of Jeewon’s pigtails and grab at the large mounds, squeezing the soft flesh as you pull her against you. You knead the heavy mounds, treating them like dough. Jeewon’s hard nipple rubs against your palms, you slide your hands down, just enough to where you’re able to pinch the hard nubs. Jeewon cries out again, her sensitive nipples are being toyed with. You pull them until they’re taut as you drive your cock into her womb with each thrust.
Your maid drools over herself as her mind goes blank. “I love you, Master. I love you; I love you, I love you!” She cries, her words slurring together. Jeewon’s walls clamp down on your length, her body twitches as she cums on your cock. Her sensitivity shoots up, bringing more pleasure crashing over her as your thrusts continue. She can feel your hands digging into her soft mounds as you knead them. The details of your cock are being etched into her walls as you fill her cunt. The moment you let go of Jeewon’s tits, she falls forward, drooling onto the bed. You hold her waist up, your cock beginning to throb.
“I’m going to cum inside, Jeewon.”
“Yes! Fill your naughty maid, Master!”
Your thrusts quicken. Jeewon grips the bedding tightly as she begs you for your cum. You bury yourself inside of Jeewon and unload inside her, filling her tight cunt with your semen, painting her walls white. Jeewon’s body shakes again as you force another climax on her. Jeewon feels the warmth from your cum spreading across her body. She struggles to keep her eyelids up, and a sense of bliss washes over her.
You let go of her waist, but keep yourself buried in her as they collapse flatly onto the bed. Jeewon moans softly as she feels your cock throbbing inside her. “I might have Master’s baby,” She mumbles.
“You’re on the pill,” you remind her, smacking her ass.
You slowly pull yourself away from your maid, leaving her warm cavern. Jeewon gives you a hum of mild disappointment as a feeling of emptiness hits her.
You lie beside Jeewon, resting on your back as she lies there, tired. You watch as Jeewon slowly raises her head, her eyes locking onto your softening cock. Her arms shake as she lifts herself off the bed and crawls between your legs. Her thin fingers wrap around your shaft, her warm breath hits the tip, before she presses her lips against the head. Your cock forces her lips apart as she takes you into her wet mouth. Her tongue gingerly swirls around the tip. You watch Jeewon’s cheeks hollow as she gently sucks your cock. Jeewon bobs her head slowly, taking more and more of you in with each pass. You groan her name, enjoying the way she works her skilled mouth. You place one hand on the back of her head, pushing her forward until you hit the back of her throat. Jeewon moans around your cock, saliva coating it as she gags on it.
When you let go of her head, Jeewon pulls back, her eyes watering as she takes deep breaths. While she does that, her hands wrap around your length, her wrists twisting in as she jerks you off. “Master’s cock tastes so good,” she says softly, remnants of your cum lingering on her tongue.
Jeewon pulls you out of her mouth with a pop. She lifts your waist, giving her a better position for what comes next. Your big-titted maid placed your cock between her soft mounds, pressing them together around your shaft. You grunt as Jeewon uses her tits to please you, the large mounds massaging your cock, “Do you like this, master?”
“Y-yeah.” It was hard not to like it when this was Jeewon’s specialty. She made sure every inch of your cock got the chance to enjoy being between her soft, warm mounds. When the tip wasn’t between them, coating the valley in precum, it was in her mouth. You felt your orgasm approaching as she continued to use her tits on you. Seeing you were getting close, Jeewon slowed herself down. She slips one of her hands under her heavy mound and raises it, letting the head of your cock rub against her hard nipple.
She moaned softly, her sensitive nipples making her feel just as good as you felt. “I really wish master would let me get off the pill.” She said with a slight frown. You already knew what she was getting at. It was a constant thing with her; at this point, you were certain she had a kink for that sort of thing. You listen along as she continues with her thoughts, “It would be a lot better. I could give you a lot of milk. Wouldn’t you like that, Master? These nice big tits, swollen with milk, that would be all for you?” After she talked about this so much, the idea didn’t sound so bad; it was growing on you. That being said, you also didn’t want a child, not yet, at least. You stay quiet as Jeewon lets you fuck her tits. Seeing that you wouldn’t give her an answer, she whines. “Please, Master?”
“I’ll think about it,” you tell her. “The bigger thing right now is I’m going to cum.”
Jeewon perks up and slips you back between her breasts. “Cum all over these big tits, Master. Cover them in your spunk.” She says, moving her heavy mounds quickly. You throw your head back and moan. Jeewon was pressing down near the tip of your cock, making the pleasure unbearable. You cum between her tits, coating the inside with your cum. As Jeewon moves her tits, it spurts out the top, landing on her neck and the tops of her tits. Your maid keeps stroking your cock with her heavy mounds, milking your cock until nothing comes out. “You came so much.” Jeewon leans back, your semen flowing down onto her stomach. Jeewon runs her hands along her breasts, rubbing your cum into her skin, making it glisten. She brings a finger to her lips, tasting your salty semen.
“I think we need to get you cleaned up, Master.” She says, a devious smirk on her face. A trip to the shower just meant she would get the chance to use her tits to clean you off, and you weren’t going to complain.
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Word count: 3.3K | Tags: Smut, No Plot, (FFM) Threesome, Ass/Pussy Eating, Anal, Squirting, Ass to Mouth.
Amidst the orgy in IU's new house, an eager Mina and a hungry Nayeon get to share a moment of their own, accompanied by the hostess' boyfriend.
…
Scoffing, he walked to Mina's back. "Since our girlfriends are busy…" He whispered as his hands took her waist, letting his member rest on her skin.
"I've been thinking about this for two weeks already," she chuckled, tilting her neck to let his lips run through her skin, reaching for his dick while she enjoyed the trail of kisses on her neck.
"How can I pay you for keeping the secret?"
"What?" Nayeon asked in an almost offended tone, trying to ignore the improvised foursome made by IU, Jeongyeon, Chaeyoung, and Tzuyu. "Did you know?"
Mina and Seungdae stared at each other, then back at Nayeon. "I'll tell you more during dinner," the short-haired girl giggled before they cornered the eldest member against the L-shaped couch. Mina pinned her down, using her knees to keep her friend's legs slightly open as she kissed her plump lips.
Seungdae let his hunger take over him. He knelt, admiring the meaty set of thighs and buttcheeks he had in front of him. Taking advantage of Mina's legs having stopped Nayeon's from closing, he kissed the older woman's thighs, spreading them as he got to her groin until he reached her bum. He took his time to lick Nayeon's ass, feeling her clench when his tongue ran through the small creases of her puckered hole.
Her coy moans were muffled in Mina's lips. In only a matter of seconds, she had already acclimated to her new spot. In another minute, just as Seungdae's tongue ventured inside her butthole, she had already accepted that she had no domain, say, or power between him and her friend. Her legs relaxed, and her thighs went up to be held by Mina, giving the man full access to eat her holes.
"Always so obedient," the Japanese beauty whispered, holding Nayeon's cheeks.
"It's not fair with that face," she whispered, weakened by Mina's eyes and warm smile, feeling her hands run down her neck to kiss her again.
Watching up close how her pussy clenched at the touch of Mina's lips, Seungdae chuckled and gave a few more licks to her asshole, fucking her a bit with his tongue, before going a few centimeters up to kiss Nayeon's fat pussy, licking her already drenched folds.
His tongue and how it went as deep inside her cunt as he could felt glorious. His subtle giggle let her know he liked her taste, and the immediate subsequent swirl of his muscle throughout his inner lips confirmed he was hungry for her.
That gave Nayeon the little push she needed to let her hands run free all over Mina, taking her neck first, then slowly going back and forth between her waist and her small boobs, subconsciously mirroring her friend's actions as their tongues danced together, encapsulating her whimpers as soon as Seungdae captured her clit.
He loved her taste and how quickly her pussy got drenched, even after having licked all of her juices thoroughly. Her flavor, her heat, her musk; he could truly spend hours licking that cunt and not get tired, but he had just started, and he knew he would get more time with Nayeon later. He kissed, licked, and bit her inner thighs, her groin, her fat outer lips, and every corner of her slit, before sucking on her clit, stopping when her hips shook, leaving her begging for more.
"Why?" She whined, rocking her pelvis, looking for his touch.
"Shush," Mina purred before he could say anything, rubbing Nayeon's clit. She heard a scoff coming from Seungdae, and remembering how good she made her feel their first night together, she arched her lower back to present her pussy to him.
"I love my life," he sighed, shaking his head with an ear-to-ear smile. He took a second to contemplate Mina's glistening folds surrounded by her meaty thighs and ass. Shoving his fingers into Nayeon's cunt, he outlined Mina's slit with slow kisses, using the time to breathe her scent, letting her folds gather more of her precious nectar before he went wild on her.
The trio moved smoothly together. The background of Chaeyoung's cute moans, muffled in Tzuyu's lips, and the intense breathing of Momo, vigorously fingered by Jihyo, guided them on their own tempo.
Mina showed her eagerness by moving her pussy towards his lips, finally getting his tongue to run through her folds while she chuckled mid-kiss devilishly, letting her fingers go crazy on Nayeon's bean.
Nayeon reciprocated it. Her ankles hugged Mina's back, forcing their torsos to touch completely. Her big hands went down to that juicy pair of buttcheeks and spread them wide open.
'Dinner is served,' Seungdae thought, enjoying Mina's flavor, kissing her clit very carefully, making her flinch at every gentle touch until she relaxed, no longer afraid of any attack on her sensitive bean. Instead, he focused on the entrance of her cunt, purposefully shoving his tongue into her walls, resting his nose right on her pucker hole.
Their hunger pushed them to demand more of each other. Nayeon's fingers moved down to Mina's abs, caressing them as her hand reached her friend's pussy, pushing Seungdae's mouth from those slippery folds to the relaxed, already gaping asshole of the Japanese woman. Mina moaned hungrily as Nayeon's long fingers curled in her walls, doing the familiar dance only her unnie could perform inside of her. The man's lips kissed her rim eagerly, shoving his tongue in and out, making her tickle in that particular way she loved so much.
Seungdae allowed himself to go from Mina's tight slit to her puckered hole. Regardless of how roughly that first night with her ended, savoring that gaping pink butthole was a highlight worth repeating at any cost. Having it offered in a room with his girlfriend and the rest of Twice getting frikier by the second gave him the perfect opportunity to shut any thoughts.
The sound of Momo grunting as Jihyo shoved Seungdae's replica into her cunt caused the same reaction in the trio. His fingers stiffened against Nayeon's G-spot, causing her to mirror the same reaction inside Mina's pussy, which made her hips tremble and her asshole shut tightly, capturing the man's tongue.
"I want it," she moaned, reaching for his hair, pulling him.
"Can I go first?" Nayeon whined, pinching one of Mina's nipples. Her giggle and smirk suddenly turned into a moan, and her eyes rolled to the back of her head as Seungdae impaled her guts with his whole shaft.
"I'm sorry," he scoffed, already rocking his hips against Mina. "Queen's orders. You'll have to wait."
"Why?" She complained, kneeling on the couch with him lying on his left, lifting Mina's left leg as they spooned, Nayeon's fingers firmly curled inside the short-haired woman.
"Because you'll love what Jin and I will do to you later, and because you're a good whore who'll do as she's told," Seungdae scoffed, running his right hand through Mina's body until he reached her jaw to kiss her, keeping his eyes on Nayeon.
She loved the view. Her friend was thriving. Eyes closed, tongue swirling with his, hips swaying against his shaft, left hand pinching her own nipple, right hand softly scratching Nayeon's tummy. It was her subtle way to beg her to move her digits.
"Unnie," Mina whispered, moaning, getting the woman out of her trance.
"Will you keep her waiting?" He chuckled, letting the Japanese beauty bite his lower lip.
"Will it be worth it?" Nayeon asked, slowly moving her fingers inside Mina, more so to feel his length moving than to please her friend.
"I wouldn't dare disappoint my favorite slut?" He grinned, bringing a slight blush to her cheeks.
"Am I not your favorite?" Mina pouted, taking her delicate fingers to her mouth, and clenching her ass tightly.
He moaned, feeling her take his soul from his cock. "You may be an evil anal-addicted lunatic, but not a slut," he panted, smirking at her, making her smile with his words.
"Can you two fuck me like one?" She replied, biting her lip, staring cutely at them without stopping her hip movement.
"Any day," he scoffed, choking Mina with his right hand and ramming her butthole. "Nayeon?" He raised his eyebrow, challenging her.
The older woman shook her head, getting off the couch to kneel and kiss him while she shoved her thumb in her friend's mouth. This time, her fingers moved inside Mina's pussy as hard as Seungdae was thrusting into her.
Mina smirked warmly, gazing at their tongues swirling while she sucked her digit. She could spend hours getting her ass drilled, simply enjoying the constant reshaping of her guts, but it was Nayeon's fingers that slowly pushed her towards her first orgasm of the day. Not caring one bit to hold back, she let her lust guide her body, looking for her own climax, holding the man's hand on her neck and Nayeon's wrist in place.
For a moment, all Seungdae could process was the tightness of Mina's butt. No matter how insanely wide she could gape, or how absurdly deep she could get a dildo lost her guts, the control she had over her muscles made her insides feel incredible. The only thing that brought him back to reality was Jieun's grunt. That tone that combined her lust with a tint of pain.
Without stopping, he stretched his neck to find his girlfriend in all fours over Dahyun, chuckling as she pressed Jeongyeon's hand on her own asscheek.
Finally, he witnessed Jeongyeon's dominant side, ramming Jieun's butt while the soloist scanned the room and found his eyes. Unconsciously, he had stopped for a moment, drawing Mina's and Nayeon's attention to IU, although the older woman kept fingering her friend.
The look in the soloist's eyes was clear. Jeongyeon was moving just like she liked it, and she wanted more. They grinned, as if encouraging each other.
He resumed his pounding at Mina's asshole, reactivating his own threesome right before Jeongyeon pulled IU's hair.
"Nayeon," Seungdae hissed, causing her to shake her head and turn to see Mina's needy eyes. "Should we?"
"Eh?" Mina voiced, confused at the mutual glance they shared before staring directly at her. His grip tightened around her neck, and he thrusted so hard and fast into her guts it seemed a whole audience was clapping.
Nayeon's fingers went equally intense inside her cunt, pushing her G-spot with enough precision and technique that she could have made Mina explode without any other stimulation. Knowing that, her free hand captured her nipple to pinch it and twist it.
Mina melted on the couch, unable to face them as her eyes rolled to the back of her head. Her core shook first, a sign of her last bit of control before her whole existence convulsed in place, squirting in Nayeon's hand.
Seungdae had to focus on his grip and Mina's face to avoid exploding in her guts. Lost in the Japanese beauty's face, he managed to endure it until her pupils were visible again. She giggled, shrinking in their embrace, victim of her own sensitivity.
"Adorable, isn't she?" Nayeon grinned, biting her lower lip.
"A work of art," he smiled at Mina, leaning for a peck, then giving space for Nayeon to do the same.
"Can you keep going?" The short-haired girl asked, grinding her hips on him.
"You're never satisfied, are you?" He chuckled, and she shrugged, biting her lips seductively. Not waiting any further, he pulled her with him until his knees were on the floor, and her ass was on the edge of the sofa while her legs made a full split.
With a smirk, Nayeon knew what to do. She made her way to straddle Mina's face. When she looked down, her friend's mouth was open wide, and her tongue was moving eagerly, welcoming those dripping folds.
Mina acted immediately, rubbing her clit, rocking her hips on Seungdae's manhood, and devouring her friend's folds. Despite the evidence literally dripping from Nayeon's hand into her mouth, to any witness, it would appear as if the Japanese woman was just getting started.
Aided by Seungdae holding her ankles, Mina gripped onto the older woman's buttcheeks, spreading them to taste her folds. Soon, she had her grinding her hips over her face, leaning to the man, and trying to contain her moans.
Nayeon ogled at Seungdae, watching his girth captured by Mina's rim. "I need your cock," she panted, reaching for his abs, almost pleading.
"Told you: Queen's orders," he chuckled, leaning forward to lick her plump lips.
"Please!" Nayeon moaned, licking his tongue, exhaling on his mouth.
As much as he liked feeling her breath and her helplessness, and as much as he would love to demolish her pussy, he also needed to wait. "Uh-uh." He hugged Mina's legs with one arm, practically framing their faces with them. "I don't want any toy entering this precious cunt, understood?" He grunted, biting her lip as his free hand reached for her slit, pulling her a little forward, forcing Mina to eat Nayeon's ass.
"W-why would I torture myself with so much to play with around me?" The older woman smirked, failing to pretend she wasn't already shaking on his hand, and loving her friend's tongue entering her butthole.
"Because, as much of a nympho as you can be, you are a good and obedient whore. So you'll do as you're told." He growled, staring at her eyes as closely as possible. She nodded, whimpering as his middle finger pushed her G-spot. "Hold it until you can't bear it anymore."
Nayeon hummed in confusion, even more so when he offered her Mina's right foot. "I hate you," she shook her head, moaning louder as he fingered harder and harder. Giggling, she welcomed her friend's cute toes into her mouth, sucking on them as intensely as her ass was getting eaten.
She felt Mina's chuckle on her puckered hole. It felt degrading. Despite having licked all of the members' feet, doing that under his command, knowing she'd have to wait to get his meat inside of her pussy, was slightly humiliating, but incredibly arousing; as much as witnessing him take Mina's left toes to his mouth while locked eyes with her. She understood it was his own way of saying 'look what you're missing,' and rubbing it on her face.
With his gaze on her, Nayeon let him take her to her climax, no longer trying to ignore how good his fingers felt inside of her and how deliciously wild Mina's tongue was running in her butthole. Her pleasure built up, letting it show not only by the occasional clenching of her holes, but also by how desperately she licked her friend's toes, going between her digits so quickly her drool was already falling.
She obeyed, feeling every bit of pleasure accumulating and holding it until her orgasm filled her whole system.
With eyebrows frowning as she begged with her eyes, a tear shed down her cheek. He nodded so subtly that blinking may have made her miss it.
Nayeon succumbed in front of him. In a millisecond, her eyes disappeared on the back of her head. She shuddered, held in place by Mina, who somehow got enough force to maintain her hovering over her face, and Seungdae, choking her firmly. At the same time, his fingers stormed her G-spot, letting the first waves of squirt fall on his hand until his stiffened fingers came out of her cunt and attacked her clit, causing Nayeon to convulse violently.
The sudden movement caused Mina's ass to clench tightly while the never-ending squirt gushing from Nayeon's pussy rained all over her torso. The Japanese beauty continued rocking her hips, however, at least until she heard Seungdae grunting.
Close call to his climax, but Mina stopped just in time. Panting, he admired Nayeon's broken smile and the seductive way her eyes returned to ogle at him, thanking him for already making up for their last encounter, even if it wasn't with his dick.
He hugged her tightly to kiss her, knowing every brush on her skin was sending little shock waves of pleasure through her brain.
"I may not h-hate you," Nayeon panted with a weak smile.
"I shouldn't have made you cum, then," he smirked at her, shoving his fingers back in her cunt to lift her from Mina's face. He stopped for a moment to see her run her digits through her torso and savour her friend's squirt.
"I can't lick myself clean," she scoffed, proudly displaying her body at them.
In a blink, she had both of them licking and sucking every part of her, from her lips to her neck, going down her collarbones and her small tits.
"Thought you'd drain me with that cute, little hole," he whispered to Mina, kissing her jawline.
"It would be a waste not to inject that load into someone's cunt," she giggled, fully relaxing. Seungdae took his time, enjoying Nayeon's flavor from Mina's midriff, while Nayeon herself went further down to lick her friend's folds and then her gaping hole.
"Can't I get at least a little bit?" The older woman pleaded, holding his thigh.
He eyed Mina. "I need to get my dick clean before shoving it in someone else's cunt," he smiled, taking a seat to Mina's left. Surprisingly, the short-haired woman wiggled her way into the corner of the couch, instantly taking his glans into her mouth.
"Yah, that was for me!" Nayeon whined.
"You can clean the rest," she scoffed. "Let me enjoy my own taste," Mina smiled cutely, biting the tip of her tongue as she licked his slit.
Nayeon set her eyes on him. His smirk and shrug made her angry, but he, having the boldness of reaching for Mina's folds with his right hand, may have pushed her a bit further. Just as he lay his back on the sofa, she pulled him a bit down and to his left, and jumped over his face, pressing her fat pussy on his mouth.
He welcomed it, enjoying her juices while their tongues swirled through his shaft, running over every bit of skin. The relaxation was so deep that he didn't mind when he stopped feeling their mouths, as long as his fingers were still inside Mina's walls and his mouth was filled with Nayeon's flavor.
"Great One," Jieun called him, causing Nayeon to jump from his face.
"Yes, my queen?" He turned quickly to see her with Sana and Momo standing behind his girlfriend. Seungdae chuckled, removing his fingers from Mina's cunt and kneeling to kiss his IU's bald pussy, tracing a path of kisses until he met her lips. "Is it time?"
She nodded quickly, biting her lower lip. "You may want to see your little sweetheart; you won't want to miss what she's doing," she winked at him, stroking his dick.
"Take Mina, I'll drop this one with Jeongyeon and Jihyo." Both nodded, and the man turned quickly to carry Nayeon in his arms, causing her to yelp.
"When will you fuck me with this cock?" She asked him, reaching for his meat.
"Oh, Jin and I have something in mind specifically for you," he smirked before interrupting Jihyo from eating Jeongyeon's folds, and Chaeyoung from drinking milk directly from the leader's udder while she fingered her. "Take one, leave one, right?" He joked as he left Nayeon in their embrace, quickly taking the tattooed girl as she playfully raised her arms for him.
With just one arm, he carried Chaeyoung, shoving his Mina-flavored fingers in her mouth before turning to see Tzuyu's tanned ass and pussy contrasting with Dahyun's pale butt and pink folds. "You have no idea how much I wanted to see that," he told the slim woman in his arms.
…
Author's note: While writing the whole orgy, I had to decide where I wanted the focus to be, so this wasn't fleshed out in the actual fic. Since I have a lot of other things waiting to be written and I'm not sure if I'll have another chance to write MiNayeon, I also had that little itch begging me to write this little piece.
Of course, if you want more of this, you can read the whole orgy here.
Also, a few extra pics because I love them together, and they've been so clingy lately.
This was originally posted exclusively on Fanprose. Please follow me there to see my next fic early. (It's also just better than tumblr).
"And this is..."
"Yeah, I know," you interrupt, staring down the woman across from you. Of all the parties in LA, Yuna had to be at this one. You didn't want to see her, fuck, you could go the rest of your life without seeing her again, and it'd be a mercy. But here she is, her hair a little longer, wearing a dress so simple yet expensive.
The stranger who made the introduction, a lanky filmmaker named Ben, looks between the two of you, eyes wide with dawning understanding. He holds a plastic cup halfway to his lips. "Oh. Oh, shit. Okay. I'll... I'll just go. Over there." He makes a hasty, awkward retreat, melting back into the thrumming bodies and thumping bass of the party.
Silence descends on the decking for a beat. Too long. The warm evening air, thick with the smell of jasmine and chlorine, feels suddenly cold. Behind you, the pool lights cast an aquamarine glow on the rippling water. Laughter erupts from inside the house, a distant, alien sound.
"What are you doing here?" she asks. That sweet voice - as fake as fucking ever now, but it still hits you where it hurts.
You give a short, bitter laugh. "I could ask you the same thing."
"I'm here with someone," she says, her chin lifting a fraction, a defensive gesture you remember all too well.
"Aren't you always?" The words slip out, quiet but sharp enough to cut.
A muscle in her jaw tightens. She takes a sip of her own drink, her gaze shifting to the dark, manicured garden behind you. "I didn't know you'd be here. I wouldn't have come."
"Likewise." You can't stand looking at her, but you can't look away either. She's got that haunted look in her eyes, the one she gets when she's been drinking. You hate that you still notice these things.
She takes a step closer, the scent of her perfume - something with gardenia and sandalwood - wafting over, a ghost of intimacy. "Listen, we can't just..."
"Just what? Avoid each other forever? Yes, we absolutely can. In fact, I'd pay good money for that privilege."
"Fine. Be an asshole about it," she snaps, the facade cracking for a second, revealing the rawness underneath. That, too, is familiar.
"I am being an asshole about it. I'm a world-class asshole. You should know that better than anyone."
She scoffs, a small, humourless sound. "You're not a world-class anything. You're just... you. Immature. Same as the last day I saw you."
The last day. You remember the heat of that afternoon, the suffocating humidity that clung to your skin, mirroring the atmosphere in your shared apartment. You remember the shouting, her throwing that ridiculous ceramic cat you hated against the wall. You remember her face, streaked with tears and anger, as she yelled, "He was just a friend! We were at work late!" and the way her voice broke when she screamed, "And Chloe was just a lab partner, right?"
The memory is so vivid that it is a physical blow. It feels like it's happening all over again.
Without a word, you walk away, back to the comparative safety of the party's thrum. The sliding glass door to the main room is slick with condensation. You push through it into a wall of sound and heat and bodies. The bass from the speakers vibrates through the soles of your shoes, a physical heartbeat for the house. The air is hazy, a visible fog of vapes and artificial smoke from a cheap machine, and the sweat of too many people packed into a space not built for it.
You need a drink. Something strong, something to numb the reverberating echo of her. You shove your way through the crowd, past a girl in a sequined top laughing too loudly at something a guy with a man bun is saying, past a couple making out against a wall, their bodies pressed together as if they're trying to merge into one being.
Three quick, strong drinks later, and you're feeling single and seeing double. You find yourself leaning against a makeshift bar set up on the dining room table, the varnished wood sticky with spilt cocktails. You're nursing your fourth. Whiskey. Neat. It burns going down, and you welcome the pain.
"Impressive," a familiar man says next to you. You glance over. It's Ben, the well-meaning idiot who introduced you. He’s holding a beer, looking apologetic. "Sorry about that earlier. Outside. I had no idea."
"Everyone's got a past," you say with a low rasp. The whiskey is starting to do its job, blurring the edges of everything. "I've got several. Mostly bad."
He offers you a small, sympathetic smile. "Yeah. Well, if it's any consolation, I think she was just as thrown as you were."
You scoff, drink, and then reply, "She has a way of looking thrown that's really more of a dramatic flourish. She learned it from a movie, probably."
Ben chuckles, a nice, easy sound. He seems okay, for a stranger. For a reminder. "I see. You guys have, uh... history."
"You could say that." You look at Ben - an utterly forgettable face - and then down at your drink. Finally, to the crowd, where you spot her, ass pressed against the hip of some guy in a tailored jacket. She's laughing, head thrown back, exposing the elegant line of her throat. She's giving him that look, the one that says you're the only person in the room, the one that had felt so real when it was aimed at you. Now it's a performance, a cheap trick. It’s a performance you remember every line of. "I think we wrote the first few chapters. Then she started writing in a different book."
Ben winces. "Ouch. End in a storm?" he prods, before pouring you another drink. You almost wave him off, but the bottle of amber liquid is a tempting shield.
"End in a hurricane," you correct, your words slurring just enough to feel deliberate. "Category five. And we both forgot our umbrellas." You wrap your fingers around the cool glass, the condensation slick against your skin. "She was fucking some arsty guy with a man-bun and a typewriter. A 'creative spirit'. I was fucking Chloe from my stats class. Turns out, she had a boyfriend who looked like a quarterback. I think we broke even."
Yuna's grinding on her new guy now, her hips moving in a lazy, hypnotic circle to the beat. You know that move. You taught her that move, one humid Tuesday night in your cramped living room with the curtains drawn and a bottle of cheap tequila on the coffee table. She'd been clumsy at first, self-conscious. You'd laughed, held her hips, guided her. "Just feel the music," you'd whispered against her ear, her shampoo smelling like coconut and summer. "Feel me." And she had. For a while, she had.
"Sounds messy," Ben says, pulling you back to the present. "I hate messy."
"Everyone loves messy. Just not when they're the ones stuck with the cleanup," you say, knocking back the whiskey in one smooth motion. The room tilts, then rights itself. The cheap fog from the smoke machine curls around the strobing lights, turning the writhing bodies into a series of disconnected, jerky images from a damaged film. Someone shoves past you, their elbow digging into your ribs, the jolt a sharp, physical reminder that you're here, now, not then. You're standing in this loud, bright house full of people you don't know, and the woman who broke your heart is giving a private dance to another stranger ten feet away.
"I should..." you start, but you don't know what you should do. Leave? Start a fight? Drink another? The options blur into a single, meaningless impulse: move.
"I get it, man," he says, backing away, sensing the shift in your mood. "Live long and prosper, and all that shit." He gives a little two-fingered salute and disappears into the pulsing crowd, leaving you alone with your thoughts and the ghost of gardenia perfume that still seems to cling to the air around you.
You push off the table. The floor is treacherous, a sticky terrain of spilt drinks and god knows what else. You navigate through the mass of bodies, a ship with a shattered compass. All the faces are a smear of neon and skin. You’re not aiming for anything, not the door, not the bathroom, not the crowd. You're just moving, letting the thumping bass dictate your pace, a frantic, stumbling rhythm that echoes the chaos in your chest.
You're headed right for Yuna when a pair of hands grab your arm, pulling you into a clumsy spin. You nearly lose your balance, stumbling into a girl with bright pink hair.
"Whoa there, mister," she slurs, her grin wide and loose. She's pretty in a way that's loud and unapologetic, all glitter eyeshadow and a crop top. She smells like cheap vodka and artificial strawberry. "Dance with me."
It's not a request. She drags you towards the centre of the makeshift dance floor, the space in the living room cleared of furniture. The lights are frantic here, sweeping across the room in reds and blues, catching the sweat on skin. Pink Hair grinds against you, her back to your chest, her hands on your hips. She's trying to pull you in, to make you move with her.
She moves a little awkwardly, but your hand is on her waist, guiding her, a motion you could do in your sleep. You remember teaching Yuna to salsa in your kitchen, her laughter as you spun her, the way her dress flared out, her bare feet sticking to the linoleum floor.
No words between the two of you, just charged energy. Pink Hair, Yuna, the music, the thrum of the bass—it’s all a blur. When the song ends, there's a sliver of silence before the next track begins, something heavier, angrier. You both pull away from each other, breathing heavily.
"Hey," she says, her breath warm and smelling of vodka, her hands still on you, "you're not half bad."
"Yeah, well," you mumble, wiping a bead of sweat from your brow with the back of your hand.
"You've got moves," she continues, leaning in close to be heard over the new song. "Who taught you?"
"Just a lot of practice," you say, your eyes already scanning the room. You find her immediately. Yuna. She's stopped dancing, her tongue lodged in the mouth of the tailored jacket guy.
"You could probably teach me a thing or two," Pink Hair says against your ear.
"Something tells me you know more than you let on," you reply, looking back at her.
"Maybe," she giggles. "Maybe you should find out." She pulls you in again, her body flush against yours. You comply for a moment, letting the music, the lights, the cheap vodka and whiskey wash over you. But your eyes, they betray you, and search, but there's no sight of Yuna.
Pink Hair has her hand on your face now, turning it towards her. "Hey," she says, her tone slightly annoyed. "Eyes on me, buddy."
You blink, focusing on her. Her eye makeup is smudged around the corners, her pupils dilated to black pools. "Right," you say, forcing a smile. "Eyes on you."
She buys it, or pretends to, and moves in to kiss you. Her lips are soft, but they taste of nicotine and desperation. It's a hollow gesture, a mechanical act that does nothing to quell the ache in your chest. You're thinking about Yuna's lips, the way they used to part slightly when she was thinking, the way they felt when she whispered your name in the dark.
Don't fucking think about her. The anger fuels a firm grip of Pink Hair's ass, and you kiss back, a little more fiercely than you intended. She melts into it, her hands tangling in your hair. The music thumps, a primitive beat that matches the frantic, useless energy coursing through you.
You're lost in the sensory overload of the party, the cheap warmth of the girl in your arms, the burn of whiskey in your throat, the flashing lights that make everything feel unreal. You're a ghost haunting a stranger's body, a passenger in a stolen car careening towards a cliff. And you don't care. You lean into the kiss, deepening it, trying to pour all the hurt, all the rage, all the regret into this one, meaningless act.
She pulls away and takes you by the wrist. You follow without thinking, stumbling after her as she weaves through the crowd. She leads you down a hallway, the noise of the party receding with each step. The walls are lined with framed photos of the homeowner's family—smiling faces on beaches, at birthday parties, on ski slopes. It's a curated life, a collection of perfect moments that feels a million miles away from the raw, messy reality of your own.
She pulls you into a bedroom and locks the door, before jumping into your arms, wrapping her legs around your waist. You stumble back against the door, the wood groaning under your combined weight.
"What's your name?" she whispers, her lips brushing against your ear.
You hesitate for a beat. "Does it matter?" you reply, your hands roaming over her body, the cheap fabric of her top a stark contrast to the warm, firm skin beneath.
"No," she giggles, her teeth nibbling at your earlobe. "Not really."
You're moving towards the bed now, a tangled mass of limbs and desperation. You're fumbling with the clasp of her bra, she's tugging at the hem of your shirt. It's a clumsy, urgent dance, a silent, frantic negotiation. One controlled fall into the pile of coats later, and there's a loud yelp from beneath them.
The two of you scramble, half-undressed, back to your feet. A familiar guy rises first, topless and wearing his torn jeans. Then a woman said, "What the fuck?" Yuna sits up, clutching a sheet to her bare chest. Her hair is a mess, her mascara slightly smudged, her face flushed.
"Oh, this is just fucking perfect," you say, your voice flat, devoid of emotion. You feel numb, detached, as if you're watching this whole scene unfold from a great distance. The alcohol is a dull, distant hum in your veins.
Pink Hair looks from you to Yuna and back again, her face a mask of confusion and dawning horror. "Wait, you two...?"
Tailored Jacket, whose name is probably Chad or Brad or something equally insipid, runs a hand through his perfectly styled hair, a sheepish grin spreading across his face. "Whoa. Uh. I’m into it if you are."
"Get out," Yuna says, her voice dangerously quiet. She's not talking to you. She's talking to the guy. To Chad-or-Brad.
"Honey, come on," he starts, but she cuts him off.
"No. Get out," she repeats, her eyes burning. "Now."
He shrugs, a gesture of casual dismissal that sets your teeth on edge. He starts gathering his clothes, a slow, deliberate process that feels designed to prolong the agony.
"Did this on purpose, didn't you?" Yuna turns to you, her eyes spitting fire. "Saw me with him and just had to follow me in here and ruin it."
You can't help but laugh, a harsh, ugly sound. "Ruin it? As if I care enough to stop you jumping the bones of Ken doll over there."
"Fuck you," she spits.
"Uhhh," Pink Hair girl reminds us she's here. "I'm gonna... yeah." She grabs her shirt, her face burning with embarrassment, and scrambles out of the room.
Well, now it's just the two of you. And Tailored Jacket, who is finally pulling on his shirt. The silence that follows is heavy and thick, suffocating. You can hear the muffled thump of the bass from the party outside, a distant, irrelevant heartbeat. "I'm going, I'm going," he says, holding up his hands in mock surrender. He gives you a look, a flicker of something unreadable in his eyes - sympathy? contempt? - before slipping out of the room.
The click of the door latch echoes in the sudden quiet. Now it's just you and Yuna. The air in the room is stale, a cocktail of cheap perfume, spilt liquor, and the sour tang of sweat. You're both half-dressed, a ridiculous, pathetic tableau.
"This is what you've become?" you ask, your voice low and tight, your gaze sweeping over her, taking in the smudged mascara, the sheet clutched to her chest, the raw vulnerability in her eyes that she tries so hard to hide. "Screwing random guys in bedrooms at parties you weren't even invited to?"
"You just tried the same fucking thing," she spits back, defiantly. "With that glittery, pink-haired skank."
"Always been a fucking whore," you scoff, flippant and cruel, even though a small, treacherous part of your brain is screaming at you to stop. But you can't. You want to hurt her, to make her feel even a fraction of the pain you've been carrying around like a lead weight in your gut for months.
"And I'm still the best that you will ever have." Her anger translates into her arms through gestures, letting the sheet fall from her chest to a heap on the bed. Her bare breasts are exposed, a sight that used to make your heart pound in your chest, and now it's just another weapon in this endless, brutal war between you.
You look away, a momentary flicker of discomfort. "Until you get bored and find some other 'creative spirit' to inspire you."
The jab hits its mark. Her face, for a split second, crumples. The facade of anger shatters, and the raw, wounded girl you once loved shines through, but it's gone as quickly as it appeared, replaced by a cold, hard mask of indifference. "Oh, and what about you? Still fucking your lab partners?"
"Well, I don't need a mental escape from you anymore, so no. I'm good."
She's climbing onto her knees to meet you eye-to-eye, the sheet bunched around her waist. The dim light of the bedside lamp, a cheap Tiffany-style thing, casts a colourful, mottled glow across her skin, highlighting the pale lines of her shoulders and the curve of her hips.
"Because you were so damn emotionally distant, I had to look elsewhere for connection," she says with intensity. She's not yelling anymore. She's whispering, and it's somehow more terrifying. "You'd sit there on that ugly brown couch, staring at the TV, not even seeing it. I'd be talking to you, and you'd just... nod. Your body was there, but the rest of you was a million miles away."
"That doesn't give you a free pass," you say, the words tasting like ash in your mouth, "to be a whore."
She slaps you across your left cheek
You're too stunned to react at first. All you can feel is the hot, stinging imprint of her hand on your skin, the sharp, cracking sound of the slap still echoing in the sudden, heavy silence of the room. A thin, red line starts to form on your cheek, the skin already beginning to swell. The pain is sharp, immediate, but it's nothing compared to the raw, searing ache in your chest.
"Say that again," she says, low and dangerous, her eyes blazing with a fury so pure it feels like it could incinerate you where you stand.
"I said, 'You're a whore,'" you repeat, the anger is hot and metallic. "Doesn't matter how you try to justify it, how much you want to blame me for your choices. You cheated. You lied. You snuck around behind my back with some pretentious fuck who probably quotes Baudelaire at you over artisanal coffee." You move closer, invading her space, the air between you crackling with enough electricity to start a fire. "You wanted to be the victim so badly, you forgot you were the one holding the knife."
The accusation hangs in the air between you, a living, breathing thing. She swings another open palm at your face, but this time you're ready. You catch her wrist, fingers digging into her skin, hard enough to leave a constellation of bruises. She tries to pull away, but you hold on.
"Let go of me," she seethes, her face contorted with a mixture of pain and rage.
"You wanted a reaction, Yuna?" you growl. "You got one."
She tries to slap you with her free hand, but you block that too, grabbing her other wrist. Now you have both of them, her arms pinned in front of her. You can feel her pulse, a frantic, fluttering bird beating against your thumbs. Her breath comes in short, sharp gasps. Her breasts are still bare, the nipples hardening in the cool, conditioned air of the room.
It's just silence. A distant party and some deep breaths. A long, drawn-out beat of your own heart thrumming in your ears. Her wrists are fragile in your grip, the skin soft and delicate. You could snap them, if you wanted to. The thought is so ugly, so alien, that it makes you feel sick to your stomach. You've never been this person. She's turned you into this.
And then her lips are on yours, and you're kissing her, a violent, desperate collision of teeth and tongues. It's not a kiss of reconciliation or forgiveness. It's an act of war. You're biting her lower lip, hard enough to taste blood, the coppery tang mixing with the familiar, faint sweetness of her mouth. She's not passive in this. Her hands, still trapped in your grip, twist and writhe, her nails digging into the backs of your hands. She's kissing you back with a ferocity that matches your own, her tongue invading your mouth, a battle for dominance.
You let go of her wrists, and her hands are immediately on you, tearing at your shirt, the buttons popping off and skittering across the hardwood floor. Her nails rake down your back, a line of fire, a claim. You rip the sheet away from her body, the flimsy fabric no match for your brute force. You're both a tangle of limbs and frustration, a mess of anger and a desperate, gnawing hunger. There's no tenderness here, no memory of gentle caresses or whispered endearments. This is raw.
It becomes an immediate battle for dominance. Both of you on the bed, half-rolling off, the bedsheets tangled around your legs, your jeans catching uncomfortably. You manage to push her onto her back, but she uses the momentum to flip you over, straddling your hips, her hands on your chest, her nails digging into your skin. She leans down, her hair a curtain around your face, her breath hot against your ear.
"I hate you," she whispers, the words a puff of air, a promise and a threat all at once.
"I hate you more," you growl, grabbing her hips, pulling her down onto you, the rough denim of your jeans a barrier you can't stand. You buck your hips, trying to throw her off, but she's stronger than she looks, her thighs like a vice, pinning you to the mattress.
She grinds against you, a slow, deliberate motion that's both a taunt and a command. "Is that the best you've got?"
With a grunt, you sit up, wrapping your arms around her waist, and throw her off you, onto the other side of the bed. You're on top of her in a second, your hands pinning her wrists above her head, your body a heavy weight on hers.
"Better?" you growl, your face inches from hers. You take your mouth to her neck, not kissing it, but biting it, marking it. She gasps, a sharp intake of breath, a sound of pain and pleasure that's indistinguishable from the other. You feel her arch against you, her body betraying her. You move your mouth to her collarbone, leaving a trail of red marks, a map of your rage.
You let go of her hands, needing to take off your trousers. Her hands, now free, take control of your head, pulling you to her chest. You take a nipple into your mouth, sucking and biting, and she cries out, her fingers tangling in your hair, pulling hard enough to make your scalp tingle. You taste the salt of her skin. She is a fever.
"Fucking hate you," she pants, as you fumble with your belt, the leather stiff and uncooperative. Your hands are shaking, the combination of adrenaline and alcohol making fine motor skills a distant memory. "Always so clumsy," she scoffs, a flicker of the old contempt in her voice. "Let me."
She pushes you away, you stumble back for a second and then stand. She slides from the bed and onto her knees. Yuna looks up at you, wide-eyed and defiant as she works on your belt and then the button of your jeans. The zipper's teeth part with a metallic rasp. She pushes the denim down your hips, your boxers with them, and you kick them away. Then her hands are on you. Her nails scratch the sensitive skin of your inner thighs, and you wince.
You look down at her. Her cheeks are flushed, her lips swollen and slightly parted, her chest heaving with each ragged breath. She looks like a ruin. She looks beautiful. She looks like she hates you, and you love it. You love this. This ugly, terrible thing between you - it's the only thing that feels real anymore.
Those plump lips take hold of the head of your cock, and you gasp. Her tongue swirling around the sensitive underside, her hands massaging your balls with a practised expertise. You remember this. You remember her practising on you, on that same ugly brown couch. Her giggles, her initial shyness, the way she'd look up at you, her eyes wide with a mix of trepidation and adoration.
But this is not that. There's no adoration here. There's a violent, possessive fury in her eyes. She's not trying to please you; she's trying to consume you. She takes you deeper, her throat constricting around you, a gag reflex she used to be so self-conscious about, now wielded like a weapon. Your hands find her hair, your fingers tangling in the long, dark strands, not guiding her, but holding on, anchoring yourself to this maelstrom of sensation and emotion.
She's trying to speak, but at this point you're fucking the words back into her throat, and she's gagging on your cock and your cruelty in equal measure. Tears are welling in her eyes, dark streaks running through her smudged mascara, but she doesn't pull away. She looks up at you with a defiant glare that begs you to break her.
You pull out, a string of saliva connecting your cock to her lips. "What was that?" you demand. "Didn't quite catch it."
She wipes her mouth with the back of her hand, a defiant smirk playing on her lips. "I said," she pants, her voice raspy, "has your cock got smaller? It feels... smaller."
The insult is so childish, so out of place in the midst of this brutal intimacy, that for a moment you're just speechless. And then you're laughing. "You're a fucking piece of work, you know that?"
"I try," she says, before you thrust back into her open mouth.
This is the real punishment. This is the penance. Every wet, gagging sound, every tear that stains her cheek, every brutal thrust into the tight heat of her throat. Her tongue is still working, a frantic, desperate rhythm that belies the defiant glare in her eyes. You're watching her face, watching the way her mascara runs in black rivulets down her cheeks, the way her nostrils flare with each desperate breath.
You look down at the sight of your cock disappearing into her mouth, the obscene stretch of her lips around you. Her nails are digging into your thighs now, ten sharp points of pain that only serve to heighten your arousal.
You pull out, just to grab your cock and press it hard against her cheek, smearing her own saliva across her face. "You wanted to connect, Yuna?" you snarl. "Is this connected enough for you?"
A single, perfect tear escapes from the corner of her eye and tracks a clean path through the mess on her face. But her smile, a small, venomous thing, doesn't falter. "If this is all you've got," she says, "then I'm even more disappointed than I thought."
"Put that mouth to better use," you say as you slap her across her wet cheek. "Open."
She does. And you slide back into that blessed, torturous heat. This is different. It's slower. More deliberate. A punishment. You're fucking her face, but it's controlled, even if still forceful. Each thrust is measured, a statement. You're watching her throat work as you push deeper, watching the way she has to fight to breathe. This is control. This is power. This is the antithesis of the disconnected, thousand-yard stare she accused you of because you are here; in this room, in this moment. You are the absolute fucking centre of her world.
Then, you pull out again, leaving her gasping, a string of saliva connecting your cock to her swollen lips. She doesn't move, doesn't wipe her face. She just kneels there, on the hardwood floor, looking up at you, her chest heaving, her defiant, tear-streaked face a masterpiece of ruined fury.
"You always looked so good just like this, on your knees for me."
She smirks. The smirk is a miracle of endurance, a flag planted on a battlefield of her own making. "And you always wanted to be there," she counters. "So desperate to feel needed."
The words hit you, but you don't flinch. You just smile, a slow, cruel stretch of your lips. She rises to meet your gaze as best she can. A stand-off. A silent battle in a strange bedroom. You're both naked, vulnerable, and armed to the teeth.
Without breaking eye contact, she slaps you. Hard. Across the other cheek. A matching set of red handprints blooming on your face. The crack of it echoes. And then she's pushing you, shoving you backwards. You stumble, your feet getting tangled in the discarded jeans on the floor, and you fall onto the bed, the springs groaning in protest.
She's climbing on you, looking entirely different now. Her face is stricken with a wicked kind of lust, and she is now in control. She crawls all the way up you until she sits on your chest, pinning your arms with her knees. Your vision is all her: the sweat-slicked valley between her breasts, the lines of her toned, flat stomach, the wetness of her that glints in the dim light. The scent of her, thick and musky and familiar, fills your lungs.
"Now you're going to be a good boy," she purrs, a low, silken threat. "And you're going to shut the fuck up." She shifts, planting herself firmly on your face. Your world becomes dark.
At the start, it is a punishment. The rough, demanding way she uses you for her own pleasure. But then, your body, traitor that it is, remembers. Your tongue remembers the specific topography of her, the sensitive ridges, the way she shudders when you apply a certain kind of pressure with your lips. You taste her anger and her desperation, a bitter, complex flavour that's both repulsive and intoxicating. Your jaw begins to ache, but you don't stop. You can't. You're a starving man at a feast of poison, and you're going to devour every last drop.
Her fingers tighten in your hair, pulling hard enough to make your eyes water. She is grinding against your face with a rhythm that is both brutal and needy, her hips undulating in a wave that threatens to drown you. You can feel the muscles in her thighs clenching and releasing against your head. She is a storm, and you are the landmass she is determined to tear apart.
"Fucking look at you," she gasps, a ragged pant that seems to come from a great distance, muffled by her thighs. "You'll do anything, won't you? You always were so weak."
You chase her clit with your tongue and catch it, a hard, desperate press that makes her whole body jolt, her cry sharp and unbidden. A victory, small and fleeting, in this ugly war. You do it again, and again, a relentless, focused assault that is all instinct. You are an automaton of a lover, a perfect, memory-driven machine designed for her destruction. Her movements become less controlled, more frantic. She's losing her composure, losing the battle she started. Her thighs are trembling now, and you know she's close.
A series of high, choked sounds escape her lips, and her entire body goes rigid, her muscles locking in a final, desperate convulsion. A wave of her release washes over your face, hot and sharp and smelling of a war you've already lost. For a long moment, she stays like that, perched on your face, a panting, victorious ruin.
You're smothered while she laughs, a dry, breathless sound that has no humour in it. It's a laugh of pure contempt. "Look at that," she says, finally shifting her weight, lifting herself off you just enough for you to drag in a ragged, desperate breath of air. "Face is a mess."
You can feel the slickness of her on your skin, and you can smell her on your own breath. You feel like you've been marked, branded. Owned. She runs a finger through the mess on your chin, a gesture that's almost tender in its intimacy. Then she shoves the finger into your mouth, forcing you to taste the evidence of her victory.
"Taste that?" she whispers, her eyes burning into yours. "That's what failure tastes like."
You bite down. Not hard enough to really hurt, but hard enough to make her yelp and snatch her hand back. "And that," you growl, your voice a raw, wrecked thing, "is what happens when you get too close."
A flicker of something – surprise? respect? – crosses her face, but it's quickly extinguished by a renewed wave of fury. "You're going to regret that," she promises, in a venomous hiss.
"I regret a lot of things about tonight," you say, pushing yourself up onto your elbows. "This is not one of them."
You lunge, wrapping your arms around her waist and pulling her down onto the bed with you. The room spins for a second, a kaleidoscope of lurid colour and blurred shapes, and then you're on top of her, your body a heavy, unforgiving weight pinning her to the mattress. Your knee forces its way between her legs, spreading them, and you can feel the heat of her, the yielding wetness that mocks your anger.
Yuna struggles, her hands pushing against your chest, her body writhing beneath yours, but it's a futile effort. You're stronger than her, your rage a tangible force that amplifies your strength, narrows your focus to a single, brutal point of entry. You catch her wrists in one hand, pinning them above her head, just like before.
"You always were a fucking bully," she spits, "Using your size to get what you want."
"And you always used your tears," you retort, your free hand fumbling between your bodies, guiding yourself to her entrance. "You think I don't remember? The way you'd cry when you didn't get your way, when you wanted me to stay in and watch your stupid French movies instead of going out with my friends. You think I don't remember how you'd wrap yourself around me, all soft and weepy, until I gave in?"
"That's not how it was," she protests, but her voice is thin, her defiance wavering as you press the head of your cock against her. Her body betrays her, her hips tilting, a silent, desperate invitation that negates her words.
"Isn't it?" you growl, and then you're inside her, one hard, unforgiving thrust that sheathes you to the hilt. Yuna is a scorching, velvet heat that clenches around you, a perfect, agonising fit. A shared, ragged gasp escapes both your lips.
For a beat, you don't move. You just stay there, buried deep inside her, a stillness that is more loaded, more charged than any violent motion. You can feel her heart hammering against your chest, a frantic, desperate drumbeat.
"Maybe if you'd fucked me like this once in a while," Yuna manages to say, her eyes locked on yours, "instead of just... going through the motions, I wouldn't have had to look elsewhere."
The accusation is a splash of gasoline on the fire of your rage. "Don't you dare," you snarl, pulling out almost all the way before slamming back into her, a brutal, punishing thrust that makes the bedframe shudder against the wall. "Don't you dare try to make this my fault."
A choked cry escapes her lips, a sound that's half-pain, half-pleasure. "But it is your fault," she gasps, her hips rising to meet you, a contradiction that makes your head spin. "All those nights you'd come home and just... collapse on the couch. You were there, but you weren't. I had to beg for it, for a little bit of attention, for you to just... see me."
You're moving now, a hard, relentless rhythm, each thrust a retort, a denial, an accusation. You're filling her cunt in a way that's both an act of possession and an act of erasure. You're trying to fuck her out of your system, to fuck the memory of her out of your head, to replace every gentle touch, every whispered endearment, with this raw, violent act. It never works.
"See you?" you growl, punctuating the words with a particularly deep thrust that makes her whole body arch off the bed. "I saw you. I saw you every morning when I woke up, with your makeup smudged and your hair a mess. I saw you when you burned the spaghetti, and we ate charred noodles and laughed until we cried. I saw you when you came home from work, so tired you could barely stand, and I'd run you a bath and just sit with you while you soaked. I fucking saw you, Yuna."
"You saw a version of me you wanted to see!" she cries out, her nails raking down your back, a stinging, welcome pain. "You didn't see the parts you didn't like! The parts that were messy, complicated, and scared! The parts that didn't fit into your neat little box of what a relationship should be!"
Her words are a series of cuts, precise and deep. You're a beast now, all instinct and fury. Your hands are everywhere, tangling in her hair, gripping her hips so hard you know you'll leave bruises, a collection of angry purple blooms that will be a testament to this night. You're trying to leave a mark, to brand her, to make it so she can't forget you, can't move on, can't feel the touch of another man without remembering the feel of you, the brutal, consuming force of you.
"Is this messy enough for you?" you snarl, your breath hot against her ear. "Is this complicated enough?"
Her only response is a choked moan, a raw, ragged sound that's torn from the depths of her. But her body, that treacherous, traitorous body, is still moving with yours, her hips rising to meet each brutal thrust, a desperate, frantic rhythm that's a language all its own. Her legs wrap around your waist, pulling you deeper, a silent plea for more.
"I hate you," she gasps, the words a prayer and a curse, her head thrown back, the elegant line of her throat exposed, a vulnerable stretch of skin that's an open invitation.
"Liar," you growl, your teeth sinking into the tender flesh of her neck, a sharp, stinging bite that makes her cry out, her whole body convulsing around you. "If you hated me, you wouldn't be so wet."
She shudders, a deep, full-body tremor that has nothing to do with the force of your thrusts. You can feel the subtle shift in her, the way the tight, clenching heat of her becomes even wetter, a slick, yielding response that betrays her, that confirms her lie. The sound of it is obscene, a wet, rhythmic slapping that fills the room, punctuated by your ragged breaths and her desperate, broken cries.
"Hating you is what makes me wet," she manages to retort. "Knowing this makes you sick, knowing you still want me even when you hate me. That's what gets me off."
Her words undermine your anger. They poke holes in your carefully constructed fortress of rage. But you don't back down. You double down. You fuck her harder, a brutal, punishing rhythm that's a denial of her claim, an attempt to prove her wrong. You're trying to hurt her, to make her feel the gnawing, empty ache that's been your constant companion for months, but every thrust, every bruising grip, every savage bite, only seems to spur her on, to feed the fire of her own masochistic desire.
You shift your weight, pushing one of her knees up towards her chest, changing the angle, driving deeper. You're watching her face, transfixed by the raw, unguarded emotion playing across her features. Her eyes are squeezed shut, her brow furrowed in a mask of what looks like agony, but the sounds she's making, the way her body is responding, tell a different story. This isn't agony. It's ecstasy. It's the two of you, twisted together in a knot of hate and lust and a desperate, pathetic longing for something you can never have again.
Your orgasm builds, a slow, inevitable tide rising in your groin, a tightening in your balls. You try to fight it, to hold back, to prolong this sweet, venomous torture, but her body is a perfect, relentless instrument, and you're a clumsy, desperate fumbler at its mercy. She can feel you getting closer, the subtle change in your rhythm, the way your breath hitches in your throat.
"You going to cum for me?" she taunts, her eyes fluttering open, a cruel, knowing glint in their depths. "I know that look. I always knew. Just before you lost it."
Her words are the final push. You let go, a groan torn from your chest, a ragged, broken sound of release and defeat. You spill into her, a hot, violent rush that feels like a surrender, an offering of the last remnants of your resistance. It's a draining, hollow victory, a pleasure that's so intense it's almost pain. Your body goes rigid, your vision blurring at the edges, the world narrowing to the feeling of her, the tight, clenching heat of her, a final, brutal convulsion.
For a long, stretched-out moment, you don't move. You stay buried deep inside her, your forehead pressed against hers, your breath mingling with hers in the hot, humid space between your faces. You can feel your own heartbeat, a frantic, fading drumbeat, and hers, a slower, more steady rhythm beneath your hand. The room is quiet now, the distant thump of the party outside a muted, irrelevant heartbeat. The only sound is the shared, ragged sound of your breathing, a quiet punctuation to the storm that has just passed.
Then you pull out. A sudden, jarring emptiness. A trickle of your own release follows, a messy, damning evidence of your failure to resist her. You roll off her, landing on the cool sheets beside her, a boneless, sweating wreck.
"God," she whispers, the word a puff of air, a prayer to a deity that has long since abandoned this room, this house, this whole sorry situation.
"Yeah," you manage to say, in a hoarse, unfamiliar croak. You don't look at her. You stare at the ceiling, at the cheap fabric of the lampshade, at the cracks in the plaster that look like a map of a country you've never been to. "God."
You can feel the heat radiating off her skin, the gentle rise and fall of her chest. The scent of her, a potent cocktail of sweat and sex and gardenia perfume, fills your lungs. It's the scent of a battlefield.
You lay there for a while, two strangers in a strange bed, the silence between you a physical presence, heavy and suffocating. It's a mutual lull, a temporary ceasefire in a war that has no end. The party outside is a distant hum, a world away from the charged, toxic quiet of this room.
"We have to stop doing this," she says finally, now devoid of her earlier venom. She's the one to break the silence. "This isn't... healthy."
You let out a short, harsh laugh. It hurts your throat. "No shit." You finally turn your head to look at her. She's staring up at the same ceiling you were just staring at, her face a pale oval in the dim light. The angry red marks on her neck are already starting to darken. You can feel a satisfying, petty pride in that.
"I'm leaving the city," she says so quietly you almost don't hear her. "Next week."
The words land like a punch to the gut. All the air rushes out of your lungs. Leaving. She's leaving. A jolt of something sharp and painful lances through your chest. It's not relief. It's not indifference. It's something much uglier.
"You think running away is going to fix this?" you scoff, your voice dripping with a contempt you don't entirely feel. "You think you can just pack up your shit and move to some other city and suddenly you're not... you?"
"Got to try something," she says, turning to face you now. Her eyes, in the low light, are dark and fathomless pools. "This isn't a life. This... It's pathetic. We're pathetic."
She's right, and you hate her for it. This whole night, this whole sordid, ugly mess, is the epitome of pathetic. A cycle of violence and sex that you can't seem to break, a toxic feedback loop of hurt and regret. But the thought of her leaving, of putting an ocean, a state, any amount of distance between you, is an even more potent poison.
"Right," you scoff. "I'll see you around, Yuna." She will never go through with it.
Okay, finally, after so much trouble. Here we are with the Tsuki fic. Related to the Tinkerbell au by the way
Length 2.1K
Tsuki X Mreader
Tsuki walked into Tinkerbell through the back entrance. It was easier getting down from here. She walked down the steps, the clicking of her shoes against the tiles the only sound. Ever since the gangbang she had signed up for, her body was in constant heat. She could barely make it to work with the constant need to touch herself or have sex. Nevermind that touching herself often did more harm than good; she had a problem. One that the owner graciously solved by allowing her down below the shop into a place made purely for sex. She would’ve rather called it the play place, though. Calling the space a dungeon made it sound scary, or so she thought.
The deeper she went, the more clothes she saw. It was a sight Tsuki was used to by now. Her clothes soon joined the pile: first her coat, then her shirt and skirt. Tsuki didn’t bother wearing bras or panties anymore. They only got in the way. As she made it to her floor, Tsuki opened the door, her heart rate rising as she walked in. The night had already begun down here. Tsuki spotted some coworkers fucking to their hearts' content as she walked through to her favorite spot. Her thighs became slick, her cunt aching with need. She brought her fingers down, rubbing her clit as she walked.
She moaned softly as she found her favorite spot empty. A smile crept onto her face as she lay down on the bed. A quick thought came through Tsuki’s mind, she jumped off the bed and went to one of the nearby cabinets, grabbing a thick dildo before heading back. She jumped back onto the bed, mind already thinking of what would happen. She adjusted her place on the bed before grabbing one of the cuffs.
Tsuki raised her leg, locking the cuff around her ankle before letting go. The chain connected to the cuff became taut. Tsuki smiled and repeated the process on the other leg, struggling a little more because of the first restraint. Her legs were now being held up and apartby the chains connected to the wall. The young woman got herself ready, grabbing the toy she had brought along and rubbing it against her slit. Tsuki couldn’t wait, though. She quickly plunged the thick toy into her cunt, she threw her head back, moaning as she dragged it out of her tight body. The young woman was lost in the pleasure, time seeming to both stand still and fly by as she punished her body.
Elsewhere, you were walking down from the main shop. It was your turn to help the ladies below deal with their insatiable lust. You made sure to have the little blue pill, so you survived the night. While the job would seem like paradise on earth, you would disagree. Sex with beautiful women and getting paid for it sounded nice on paper, but including the fact that those women were beasts, and that was another thing. You knew, though, that people would still chide you on it not being that bad, but you knew that fucking tens of times in one night was awful and draining.
You correct your thoughts for a second: it wasn’t that bad, but still not idyllic, like most people made out. You would be targeted by any and every one of those women. Your only hope was to choose a partner quickly and hope that the other ladies would wait their turn. You were fully aware, though, that it was entirely possible they were too horny to wait, and you’d turn into little more than a dildo for them to use with no breaks at all.
As you reach the door, you push it ajar and peer inside. You could already see some of the women having sex, some with your coworkers, while others decided to play with each other. You manage to spot one lying on a bed, legs chained to the wall. You recognize her as Tsuki. You take a deep breath, preparing yourself to enter and be immediately rushed. You crack the door open a little bit more before slipping inside. You walk slowly, hoping to avoid any attention, and fortunately for you, the women were too focused on their current activities to notice you. As you get closer to Tsuki, you speed up. You’d rather start your night off in control rather than immediately being thrown to the wolves.
You approach Tsuki’s spot, and she spots you quickly. A sly smile crosses her face, and she pulls the thick dildo from her cunt, tossing it to the side. “Come to play?” Tsuki asks, her voice laced with lust. She brought her hand down between her legs, spreading her lips for you. “I need that cock,” she said, licking her lips. You waste no time and rub your cock against her slit. Tsuki moans softly, raising her hips, trying to get you to push inside already. Seeing that she didn’t want to waste time, you align yourself with her and move inside her wet cunt.
Tsuki moaned loudly as the first cock of the night slid into her needy cunt. Her time in the dungeon had shown her new pleasures. As such, this position had become one of her favorites. The presentation was a good portion of why Tsuki loved it. Her pretty pink pussy was being shown off to potential suitors at all times. It was hard to resist such a needy and “helpless” girl when she begged to be fucked. As your cock slid deep inside her, Tsuki arched her back. There was nothing like a real cock.
“Harder,” she moaned. You grip her ankles, the cold chain rubbing against your fingers as you push her legs closer to the wall. Tsuki’s tongue wags as she feels your thrusts become more forceful. Her body shook, and the sweat that had built up on her body slid down her sides. Her soft breasts bounced and jiggled as you slammed your body against hers. Tsuki’s moans grew louder. She worked her muscles, forcing her walls to squeeze you tightly. The pleasure wasn’t enough yet, though. Tsuki turned her head, moans still flowing as she spotted the dildo she had left beside her. She reached for it, bringing it to her lips and sucking on the tip while her other hand kneaded one of her soft mounds.
As you continued to drive your cock deep into her cunt, Tsuki played with herself, amping up the pleasure she felt. The young woman pinched and pulled her nipple as she pushed the dildo into the back of her throat. She gagged momentarily, but her throat relaxed around the toy. Her moans became muffled as she slid the dildo in and out of her. Tsuki’s mind started to become muddled, but it was exactly where she wanted to be. Her body was solely focused on the pleasure she felt. The pleasure she felt across her body as you ravaged her lower half and she played with the top. Tsuki continued to play with her tits, groping them roughly as she got closer to her orgasm.
You stared at the young woman, lost in her own world. The look of bliss and lust on her face was arousing, more so each time she pulled the dildo back and revealed the slick mess she was leaving on its thick shaft before she plunged it back down her throat. Your grip on her legs tightened as your orgasm neared. The entire time, Tsuki had managed to keep her walls tightly wound around you. Your cock began to throb, and the young woman could now feel that you were close. Your rapid thrusts pushed Tsuki over the edge first. It was hardly a surprise to her, considering she had spent who knows how long playing with herself. To you, though, it was a little surprising; you hadn’t expected the young woman to squirt. Her nectar sprayed upward where your bodies met, ultimately landing back on top of her. Her hips thrust upward, uncontrollable as the highs of her climax hit her. You pull out at the last second and cum on her stomach, mixing the fluids. Tsuki felt the warm liquid splatter on her pale stomach. She pulled the toy from her mouth and looked down at her body, seeing the precious resource scattered across her stomach, with small bits reaching her chest.
Tsuki slowly reached down, her hand shaking as she scooped up some of your cum and brought it to her lips. Her tiny tongue slipped out, licking at her sticky mess. She hummed softly, the salty taste lingering in her mouth as she played with it across her tongue. She opens her eyes slightly, half-lidded. “You should’ve cum inside me,” she whines. Tsuki reaches between her legs and grabs your softening cock, stroking it, her thumb running across the tip. “Your cum should always go inside me. It doesn’t matter if it’s my ass, my mouth, or my pussy. It needs to be inside. I want to feel you claim me.” She mumbled. Tsuki brought her other hand down and spread her puffy lips apart. “Back in you go,” she said with a tired smile. She aligned your cock with her entrance and waited.
It felt like you were being sucked in; you couldn’t resist and instead pushed into Tsuki's tight cunt once more. You gripped her ankles tightly, the pleasure greater than before due to your sensitivity. You weren’t the only one going through it, though. The pleasure was greater for Tsuki as well. She moaned loudly, enough to turn some heads. “Come on, fuck me. Fuck this little cunt and fill it with your nice thick spunk.” You began to move, your cock sliding in and out of the slick hole with ease. Tsuki threw her head back and gripped the bed, “Oh, fuck!” she screamed. You hadn’t realized, but you had begun folding the young woman in half. You see no reason to stop and continue the process, bringing Tsuki’s feet beside her head as you put your weight on her.
You discover deeper parts of her cunt, and with the position, her walls wrap around you more snuggly. The pleasure was electric. Tsuki reaches for you, pulling you in close and pressing her lips against yours as you pound away at her cunt. “I’m so close,” she moans, her hair sticking to her forehead. Your thrusts speed up until you reach your climax. Tsuki cries out at the same time, her climax hitting her hard as she feels your searing cum rush into her body. Your semen paints her walls as it makes its way in before settling in her womb. Tsuki is speechless, a silent moan escaping her lips as she feels you claim her. You stay buried inside Tsuki, your cock throbbing as you pump the last of your load inside her.
You drag your cock out of the young woman, pearly drops sliding down her body. You’re both breathing heavily, but Tsuki is quick to recover. She rubs her messy slit, pushing her fingers inside as her body demands more. You needed to move on, though; there were many women who needed to be pleased. It was moments like this that you were thankful you had taken the little blue pill before you had arrived.
You take your chance to leave as Tsuki is distracted. You're a few steps away from her when she finally notices. “Wait! Come back!” she whines, unable to move, her feet still chained to the wall. You’re quickly approached by another woman, the petite but equally needy Chaeyoung. She grabs you by your cock and brings you along, bending herself over one of the tables and spreading her cheeks for you.
Tsuki would’ve continued to whine, but Yuna had shown up. Yuna got between the young woman’s legs and lapped at her messy cunt. The pleasure Tsuki felt was enough. Yuna would make a good partner for now; she had spent enough time down there to have learned how to please women just as well as she could men. So the night continued, with Tsuki eventually getting her needs met again, ending the night covered in semen, her body completely used and painted white.
Jiminjeong Karina x Winter (Minjeong)
Word Count : 1.4k - Chapter 1
"The Gala's Secret Pulse"
The gala’s crystal chandeliers cast a dizzying prism of light over the crowded ballroom, but all Minjeong could focus on was the low, insistent hum against her inner thigh. It was a phantom pulse, a secret heartbeat known only to her and the woman watching her from across the room.
Karina stood near the marble column, a sleek silhouette in an onyx gown that seemed to drink the light. She held a champagne flute casually, her smile a cool curve as she listened to the balding CFO from Lee Holdings drone on. Her thumb, Minjeong noted with a shuddering breath, rested idly on the small, matte-black remote in her palm.
Buzz.
A gentle vibration, level two. A reminder. A promise. Minjeong’s fingers tightened around her own glass of mineral water. She had to be sharp tonight. She was the linchpin, the lure. She offered a polite, professional smile to the young tech executive who had been hovering near the shrimp tower for the last ten minutes, his eyes repeatedly darting to the neckline of her emerald green dress.
“The synergy between our cloud infrastructure and your AI models is undeniable, Mr. Park,” Minjeong said, her voice steady despite the warmth pooling low in her belly. She crossed her legs, the silk of her dress whispering, the movement pressing the small, egg-shaped device more firmly against her.
“Please, call me Jaehyun,” he insisted, leaning in. His cologne was overpowering. “Your analysis on the quarterly projections was… insightful.”
It was the analysis Karina had dictated to her this afternoon, while Minjeong was on her knees under the desk, her mouth otherwise occupied. The memory alone made her cheeks flush. Karina’s voice, calm and authoritative over the speakerphone with a client, while her other hand fisted in Minjeong’s hair…
Buzz-buzz.
Level three. A sharper pulse. Minjeong’s breath hitched, a tiny, almost imperceptible sound. Jaehyun Park mistook it for interest. He stepped closer, his shoulder brushing hers. “Perhaps we could discuss the details over a proper drink? Somewhere more private?”
From her pillar, Karina’s gaze sliced through the crowd and pinned Minjeong in place. She gave the barest, most elegant tilt of her head. Proceed.
“My evening is quite accounted for,” Minjeong demurred, letting her gaze drop to Jaehyun’s mouth for a fraction of a second before looking away, a classic show of flustered interest. “But I’m sure Ms. Yoo would be pleased to schedule a follow-up. Your offer is certainly the most… stimulating we’ve heard tonight.”
Bzzzzzzzt.
Level four. A sustained, teasing vibration that made Minjeong’s knees feel weak. She pressed her thighs together, a desperate, hidden motion. The pleasure was a live wire, sparking under her skin. She was acutely aware of every brush of fabric, every point of contact. Jaehyun was puffing his chest out, emboldened. Another executive, from the rival Choi conglomerate, was now watching their exchange with keen interest. The game was in motion.
Karina finally extricated herself and glided over, the crowd parting for her effortlessly. “Mr. Park,” she said, her voice a velvet blade. “I see you’ve found my most valuable asset.” Her eyes flicked to Minjeong, holding a universe of possession. “Don’t monopolize her. We must share.”
She placed a hand, cool and heavy, on the small of Minjeong’s back. It was a brand. A claim. The vibration ceased abruptly, leaving a shocking, aching emptiness. Minjeong almost whimpered at the loss.
The next hour was an exquisite torture. Karina played them all, Jaehyun, the Choi executive, a nervous venture capitalist, like a master conductor. With a smile, she would send Minjeong to fetch a specific document, knowing the walk across the open floor in her heels, with the constant threat of the vibrator’s return, was its own ordeal. With a pointed comment, she’d force Minjeong to lean over the table to point out a clause in a contract, the position straining her dress and her composure. Each time Minjeong returned to her side, Karina’s hand would find her back, her waist, her arm, a casual touch that sent fire through Minjeong’s veins.
Finally, Karina announced their departure with a regal air. The executives were left competing over who had made the best impression, completely unaware the real prize had never been on the table.
The silence of the private elevator was deafening. The doors slid shut, sealing them in a mirrored box. Minjeong leaned against the wall, her composure crumbling. Her chest heaved. Karina didn’t look at her. She simply lifted the remote.
BUZZZZZZZZZZZ.
Level eight. A brutal, immediate onslaught. Minjeong cried out, her head thunking back against the mirror. Her hands flew to the wall for support as her legs buckled. The vibration was no longer teasing; it was a demand, a direct line to the core of her need. It rattled her teeth, blurred her vision.
“You were perfect,” Karina murmured, finally turning. She watched Minjeong unravel with dark, hungry eyes. “Every smile, every blush. You had them eating from your hand, and they never knew you were eating from mine.”
She advanced, the remote held steady. Minjeong was panting, little desperate sounds escaping her lips. She was so close, teetering on a razor’s edge, the public tension coiling into a private, screaming need.
The elevator chimed. Penthouse level.
Karina killed the vibration as the doors opened, and Minjeong slumped, gasping. Before she could recover, Karina had a fistful of her hair, guiding her firmly out of the elevator and across the dark, spacious living room towards the master suite. She pushed Minjeong through the door, following close behind.
“On the bed. On your back. Now.” The command was guttural, all pretense of the polished CEO gone. This was her Domme, her keeper, the woman who owned her nights.
Minjeong scrambled onto the vast bed, the duvet cool beneath her feverish skin. Karina followed, kneeling over her, one knee on either side of Minjeong’s hips. She didn’t touch her yet. She just looked down, drinking in the sight of her secretary, flushed, disheveled, dress ridden up, utterly exposed and wanton.
“All night,” Karina said, her voice low. “All night you belonged to them, and yet you were utterly mine. Do you know what that does to me?” She didn’t wait for an answer. Her hands, finally, found Minjeong’s breasts, cupping them through the silk, thumbs circling her nipples which were already hard peaks. The touch was electric after the hours of remote torment.
Minjeong arched into it, a moan tearing from her throat. “Karina… please…”
“Please what?” Karina leaned down, her lips a breath from Minjeong’s ear. “Use your words, kitten. You’ve been so quiet all evening.” One hand slid down, over Minjeong’s trembling stomach, past the waistband of her lace panties. She didn’t go for the vibrator, still nestled in place. Her fingers found the soaked, swollen flesh beneath it. Minjeong jerked, a sharp cry escaping her.
“Tell me what you want,” Karina commanded, her finger tracing slick, maddening circles around Minjeong’s clit, avoiding direct contact.
“I want… I need you to touch me. Really touch me. Please, I can’t ” a gasp cut off Minjeong’s plea as Karina finally, blessedly, slid a finger inside her. It was a deep, slow penetration that made Minjeong see stars. Her hips rolled, seeking more.
Karina added a second finger, the stretch exquisite. She began a slow, devastating rhythm, her thumb now applying perfect pressure on Minjeong’s clit. “You need this, don’t you?” she breathed, watching Minjeong’s face contort in pleasure. “You need to come after being my good little toy all night.”
“Yes! God, yes, I need it, I need you ” Minjeong babbled, her world narrowing to the feeling of Karina’s hand moving inside her, the weight of her body, the smell of her perfume mixed with arousal. The coiled spring from the gala was snapping, violently, wonderfully. Karina’s pace increased, her fingers curling, finding that spot that made Minjeong’s back bow off the bed. The pleasure was a cresting wave, huge and inevitable. Minjeong clutched at the duvet, her cries growing louder, unabashed.
“Come for me,” Karina ordered, her own breath growing ragged. “Come for your Mistress. Show me what I own.”
The command shattered the last of Minjeong’s control. The orgasm ripped through her, a silent scream breaking into a raw, broken wail. It convulsed through her, wracking her body, pulling Karina’s fingers deeper as she clenched around them. Sparks danced behind her eyelids, the intensity magnified a thousandfold by the hours of denied, public teasing.
As the tremors began to subside, Karina slowly, gently, withdrew her fingers. She brought them to her own mouth, her eyes locked on Minjeong’s dazed ones, and slowly sucked them clean. The act was more possessive, more intimate, than anything that had come before.
She leaned down again, her lips brushing Minjeong’s sweat-damp temple. “Mine,” she whispered, the word a final, definitive seal.
Purple Kiss' Mori Koyuki x Rocket Punch/ELZ UP's Kim Yeonhee x Male Reader Smut
12,204 words
Categories | fwb!Yuki, pool sex, clubbing, threesome, anal, oral
Sorry it took so long! Here's a fic of two cute underrated idols <3 I miss Rocket Punch and Purple Kiss :(
Routines are a religion.
You like to start your mornings slow. You’re already running on coffee and misplaced adrenaline for projects; the only thing that you want to do is relax. Something that goes like a good night’s sleep, a gentle wakeup call, and a filling breakfast to start your day. That’s what your ideal morning is.
Well, it was—you much prefer Yuki under the covers and with her mouth all over your cock.
The sleep’s barely out of your eyes when the sensations take ahold of you. Her pretty little mouth, hot and wet, works you out like no other. Her tongue is magical, but what more are those eyes, siren-dark as she takes you in.
“Good morning, handsome,” she says. The covers drape Yuki’s naked frame. The outside lamplight pours on her silhouette and makes her look like a succubus. “Had a good sleep?”
What a way to wake up. Those gorgeous lips pepper kisses all over your cock. Her hand closes around the base to gently jerk you off while she sucks all-too-cleverly at the tip. Yuki knows you inside and out.
“I was,” you reply. Your hand sifts through her dark hair. “Until you came along and couldn’t wait to get me in your mouth.”
Yuki’s eyes shine with mischief. “Don’t tell me you’re complaining.”
“I’m not,” you say, and close your eyes as she takes you in her throat again.
Yuki is insane. Everything about her, from those dangerous eyes to the naked, plentiful tits pressing to your thighs, is a provocation. You remember staring at her in class, taking note of that glossy black hair and waist, then wondering—
How the hell do you do it?
She hid her confusion that one day with a charming smile. Nobody mustered the courage to talk to her; you were one of the few brave soldiers. Do what exactly?
I—I just don’t get it, you said. How the hell does a girl like you not have a boy on your arm?
Yuki stepped closer, her voice dropping low. I dunno. How does a boy like you not have a girl like me on your cock?
After she’d drained the life out of you in the school bathroom, you figured out why: Yuki is fucking wild. Nobody could handle her. Many have tried, you found out—she told you about the multiple women and men she left broken. You’re the only one who stayed around.
Pity them. Now, they don’t get the opportunity to have her taking care of their morning wood. They don’t feel the expert suction of her mouth or her hard nipples against their flesh. They don’t see her eyes as entrancing as Medusa’s as you empty your load in her.
This girl just keeps you shaking. She doesn’t stop sucking until each heavy spurt ends up in her wet mouth. She provokes more hot semen with sharp licks, welcoming you into her throat again and again until you collapse on the pillows.
And it’s like nothing to Yuki. She opens her mouth, shows you the pool of cum that settles there, and swallows. “Mmm, better than any milk.”
There’s that smile again, wicked with the knowledge that you’re hers and no one else’s.
“Jesus, Yuki…” Your heart thumps fast against your naked chest. “Good morning to you, too.”
-
You’re all smiles as you walk together arm in arm to class. You moved in with Yuki a long time ago; your old crummy dorm was no use if you spent all the hours of your life in her bed anyway. It’s a chic, tall house in a gated subdivision where everyone knows everyone. You insisted on paying half, but Yuki declined. “I have another house in Tokyo anyway,” she said nonchalantly, as if an inherited mansion was something everybody had.
This was why she couldn’t wrap her head around why you didn’t want a twenty-dollar frappe. She’s nursing hers right now, manicured fingers gleaming against the wet plastic. “You sure you don’t want some?”
You shake your head.
“Aw, come on. You’ve had my tongue in your mouth, haven’t you? What’s keeping you off a shared straw?”
You choke. “I-it’s a frappe, Yuki. I prefer real breakfast.”
“Whatever, you’re boring,” says Yuki with a roll of her gorgeous eyes. It’s the kind of attitude a prefect would call her out for. Many monitor this hallway, but none of them dare correct her.
“If I’m so boring, I wouldn’t be fucking you every night.”
“Keep it up and you’ll lose that privilege,” warns Yuki. One look at her fit body in that blue tank top and low-rise jeans—yeah, you’re not going anywhere.
Your business classroom is right up the hall. From its door, a pretty head of auburn hair looks both ways until she spots you. Yeonhee. A girl with too little time in her hands, a bookbag weighing her down, and too cute for her own good. Just the sound of her stomping as she marches up to you is adorable.
Yuki waves at her. They’re best friends who met in senior high school, inseparable ever since. And, since you’re friends with benefits with Yuki, that makes Yeonhee your friend, too. Friend-in-law? Friend by acquaintance? You’ve no idea, but you’re definitely not bringing her into whatever twisted dynamic you have with Yuki. Yeonhee’s too innocent for that.
“Hi, babe.”
(Oh, another thing—you’re sure if you didn’t come into the picture, she and Yeonhee would definitely have been girlfriends. The affection is both way too intimate and casual at the same time.)
Yeonhee pouts at her. “Don’t babe me. You’re late!”
“Only by like fifteen minutes,” says Yuki. She shows her the sugary frappe. “Besides, I had to pick up breakfast. Want some?”
“Ew, no. I’m not sharing anything edible with you after that time.”
You blush. You know exactly what she’s talking about. One time, she stayed over at Yuki’s to study. Her roommate was gone and she was too afraid to review alone. She had just gone into the kitchen for some water when she saw her best friend blowing you. Your dinners were still untouched.
Yuki isn’t fazed by it. “Don’t be a prude. When’s the last time you had a good dicking down?”
Yeonhee glows bright red. She draws herself up the best she can in her sandals, clutching her notepad tighter. “For your information, I am not interested in partaking in debauchery. Being promiscuous would greatly damage my reputation in orgs.”
Yuki told you about this before. It’s something you’ve noticed, too. While her batchmates party and go out, Yeonhee stays in the library to read. The girl’s a damn saint.
And it’s so clear that it’s something she’d like to maintain down to nitpicking things. The clogged schedule taped to her notebook, the dialogue straight out of a committee letter, the ribbons in her hair…
“Has anyone told you you’re a little tense?” you ask as politely as you can.
Yeonhee pauses, deep in thought. She recalls all the moments she chose her grades before herself, a deadline over breakfast. She bites her lip. “O-only a few times.”
“A million times, actually,” Yuki corrects her. “Don’t you want to do something for yourself? Not for the professors or panelists? It won’t hurt you, ya know.”
Oh, but it would. Yeonhee’s already shivering at the idea of being out of a classroom. You’ve been standing here discussing the tension she’s carried all her life. Meanwhile, the professor’s probably gone over a million slides already.
But she finds herself nodding in agreement. There’s no use denying it. She missed out on so many parties and fun. She abstained from the distractions of dating so much that the idea of letting a guy talk to her is scary.
Well, except you. She certainly doesn’t mind you at all. Might even… Yeonhee shakes her head. Nope, don’t even think about it. You belong to Yuki—sure, she insists that there’s no label on your odd relationship, but she sees how Yuki burns up when another girl approaches you.
The look on her face is hard to read. Gently place a hand on her shoulder. “C’mon, Yeonhee. What’s something you’ve always wanted to do?”
Yeonhee looks around, as if afraid anyone would actually catch her being vulnerable. Her fingers nervously smooth the ends of her ponytail. You roll your eyes; Yuki shoots you a dangerous glare and you're obligated to switch on a sympathetic look again.
“Skip class…” she finally mumbles.
You and Yuki share a confused look. Yuki raises her brows. “Skip class?” she asks, just to be sure she heard that correctly.
“I—I haven’t skipped classes the whole year! I haven’t done it ever, actually.”
It sounds ridiculous. You’re definitely not a regular tardy student. Even Yuki has little record of truancy on her file. But of course, Lee Yeonhee takes the dedication to new heights. She’s never missed a class ever. You remember the pity you felt seeing her get into stats with a face mask and a readied roll of tissue.
Yuki seems to be recalling all of these memories, too. She gives her best friend a one-over—takes note of the tiniest wrinkle between her brows, the dark undereyes, and hands muddled with inked formulas. They’re only ever visible once you get closer to Yeonhee. That’s the way you can see past her friendly student leader persona and find the work she put in for it.
Yuki smiles. “Well, what are you waiting for, baby girl? Come on.”
-
Your professor’s probably wondering where the hell you all are, especially Yeonhee, her star student who she told to call you guys in. Lord knows she can’t rely on you and Yuki for anything. You imagine how she’d react when she finds out you’ve corrupted her, too.
Wince. Okay, corrupted is a strong word. An explicit implication at that. But as much as you try to erase the image from your mind, it’s clear. Yuki drives you crazy, but you certainly wouldn’t mind Yeonhee. She’s got a body under those big sweaters. Talk about those thighs, Jesus.
You wonder if Yuki’d be okay with that. Maybe she would? You aren’t dating anyway (everyone just groans when you say it but it’s true). And right now, she’s letting Yeonhee huddle up to you while she contents herself with running her fingers through your hair. When Yuki does that, all the casual petting and touching, it feels like second nature; just something she does with no thought.
“Okay, so we have like three months before we get flimsy diplomas and I can say I officially wasted my dad’s money,” Yuki announces it as if it were a statement to the nation. “Our solemn duty, as Yeonhee’s best friends, is to make sure she doesn’t graduate without a little chaos under her belt.”
“Best friends is pushing it,” you mutter, and she squeezes you a little harder.
Her fingers have migrated to your cheek while she writes notes down on a neat piece of paper. Yeonhee’s eyes narrow at the familiar blue lining.
“Where’d you get that?” she asks suspiciously, and Yuki shrugs.
“The dean’s office.”
“What?” Yeonhee shouts, or at least, the nearest she can do to a scold. She’s incapable of raising her voice. “He got that from Dubai! That’s stealing… i-it isn’t yours!”
Duh. Yuki sighs. She allows you to roll your eyes this time. You imagine your best friend’s parents didn’t have a hard time raising her in her little gowns, with her perfect manners and curfew. The perfect little girl. Only Yeonhee can make it sound like a bad thing.
“It’s a notepad,” Yuki deadpans. “And this is exactly what I’m talking about. You don’t have to follow every little rule. Do you always want to be a good girl who does as she’s told?”
Yeonhee struggles to find an answer. The ethical dilemma is doing her head in, or maybe it’s the control Yuki so confidently wields around everyone. Even you, but that’s already a given. She holds, touches, and drags you with her everywhere like she’s the boss. It’s her love language, Yeonhee guesses.
Yuki tends to do that with her, too. But she finds that she doesn’t mind it. Probably even likes it.
The restaurant suddenly seems to feel claustrophobic. It’s mere minutes away from the university. The thought of anyone finding you here is spiking Yeonhee’s nerves. “I’m sorry, what are we doing here again?”
“We’re making a bucket list,” you inform her helpfully. “We’re going to check off everything you wanted to do but never got to. You’ve already skipped class, so that’s one off.”
Yuki tosses her hair to one side as she marks skip class. There’s a mischievous grin on her face when she lifts her head up again.
“We’re going to fill this list up. I propose sneaking into that fine ass villa pool. Y’know, the one near mine.”
Yeonhee blinks, but her eyes are sparkling this time. It’s the most excitement you’ve seen in them since… well, since forever. “It’s monitored. And chlorinated.”
“Which is why it’s perfect.” Yuki scribbles it down and hands her friend the ballpen. “Your turn, Yeon.”
Yeonhee chews her bottom lip to prevent herself from protesting. Meanwhile, you’re salivating. You’ve seen Yuki naked before and nothing compares to that, but a gorgeous bikini on her wasn’t bad either.
There’s a long pause. Yeonhee’s cheeks turn pink. “I’ve always wanted to get a tattoo…”
Your mouth drops. “I didn’t peg you for a badass tattooed girl.”
“Juri suggested we get one together in first year,” admits Yeonhee shyly. She tucks a strand of her hair back. “I was too scared so I said no.”
Yuki mirrors your surprise with an evil smile. “Make it a tramp stamp!”
“No!”
Fifteen or so minutes later, the three of you have filled your bucket list. The words overflow from the page. It reads:
YEONHEE’S AMAZING BUCKET LIST
* Make this the ONLY thing you cram until the end of the year
* Crash the pool
* Skip a class we all hate and go get bubble tea in the middle of the day.
* Tell Professor Kingston his tie is ugly. (Yuki’s, immediately vetoed by you and Yeonhee in unison. The professor is nuts and you’d rather not be dead before graduation.)
* Miss a terror prof’s deadline. (Yeonhee’s, which makes Yuki clutch her heart in dramatic pride.)
* Get a tattoo.
* Kiss someone.
* Get a good dicking down!!!!!! (Yuki’s again, waggling her eyebrows.)
At that last one, Yeonhee’s entire face goes pink. “That’s obscene!”
“That’s the point,” says Yuki nonchalantly. “Face it, sweetheart. Everyone needs a little stress relief.”
Her gaze flicks to you. She’d know a lot about that, wouldn’t she? You hate how you look at each other at the same time. Her hand creeps up your thigh and you feel that familiar, hot knot in your gut, but you keep your focus on Yeonhee.
“You don’t have to do it first,” you offer. “It has to be someone you trust.”
Yeonhee shrugs shyly. Her big brilliant eyes are smiling. You wonder why she’s always shy around you, as if you haven’t been best friends forever. You got each other through every midterm yet she curls up into a ball each time you squeeze her cheek.
It’s something you’ll have to figure out sooner or later. Yuki’s given you a forkful of cheese pizza.
“Also has to be someone with a big dick,” Yuki says and her friend blushes furiously again. She smiles sweetly at you. “Right, hon?”
“R-Right.”
You try not to choke on the mozzarella. Yuki rests her chin on your shoulder, gently biting your earlobe. She doesn’t care that Yeonhee’s right in front of you or that this is very much a public place. You’re hers—in her head, she’s got every right to stake that claim.
“So,” Yeonhee says just in time to prevent Yuki from jumping you. “Pool first?”
You nod.
“Tomorrow night. Wear your sexiest swimsuit.” Yuki winks. “Or don’t.”
-
Tomorrow can’t come any faster. You’ve been looking forward to it all day. By the end of your last period, you’re practically sprinting to your agreed meet-up point. It’s in the university parking lot, where Yuki’s gorgeous car awaits to take you on your adventure.
Yuki checks her watch with a tsk. Four minutes past the deadline. “Where could that girl be?”
To be fair, it sounds a lot like Yeonhee to chicken out. She’s the epitome of obedience. She probably thought about the laws there were about private property and took the easy way out.
“She’s scared to death.”
“Well, I can’t blame her,” says Yuki. “I have to admit I started the list off a little strong.”
“You did?” you gasp sarcastically. She rolls her eyes. “No, Yuki, she definitely didn’t get scared because you suggested trespassing.”
Before you could let another teasing remark out, she lets the flannel jacket slip from her arms. Your mouth waters at the thin, red bikini she’s got on. It pushes up her plentiful tits and ties at the deep line of her toned back. Her hips hold up the knots of what you could imagine is the skimpiest pair of bikini bottoms ever.
Yuki smirks as she buttons her jacket again. “Another word and you’re not getting any of this.”
You shut up for the rest of your waiting. Yuki kisses you as a reward but now you’re really fired up. She looks too damn good in that flimsy little set, and you wonder how you’ll hold back all day. It’s impossible for your hands not to end up on her body.
You also wonder how she got through the whole day without anyone noticing. That jacket of hers must have ridden up and shown what’s underneath. The shorts leave nothing to the imagination either. But Yuki has her ways.
Yeonhee scurries to you, almost tripping over pebbles. She looks like she just ran a marathon.
“There you are,” you say, giving her a hug. Quickly grab her duffel bag that looks like it weighs more than her. “I thought you were gonna back out.”
Yeonhee looks around for CCTVs before pulling her shirt off, revealing a skintight rashguard. “Why would I? I’m not a coward.”
“Sure you aren’t,” teases Yuki, but she’s smiling proudly.
Yeonhee calls shotgun, ever the passenger princess. You suffer in the backseat with their phones, bags, and clothes. The parking lot stones make the road jagged, and you count two times your head knocked into the painfully solid window.
God, it was gonna be a long ride.
The villa isn’t that far from campus but it feels like it. The traffic is especially hellish today. You take several short naps and you wake up still in the same intersection. It only gets worse as the night falls. Yuki beeps furiously at the cyclists taking up the main lane.
“Fucking Sunday drivers,” she murmurs.
Yeonhee shakes her head sympathetically. She squints as headlights pour through the windshield. “Maybe they have places to be. Maybe their mom’s looking for them, or they need to go to the hospital.”
Yuki gathers her emotions with a deep sigh. She can’t bring herself to yell at Yeonhee. It’s both shocking and nice to see her practice some self-restraint. You recall how she almost got into a catfight with a girl at the bar, all because the poor girl asked if you were single.
You raise a brow. “On a bicycle. They’re rushing to the ER on a bicycle.”
“Yeah!” Eager to relay the numbers of books she read, Yeonhee nods. “It’s called sonder. Textbook definition is it’s like, the realization that people have lives just as complicated as ours. We all have our own thing.”
“I call it being an idiot who doesn’t know how to drive,” says Yuki irritably.
You and Yeonhee laugh. You’re quickly scolded for blocking the rearview mirror. Yuki rebuckles Yeonhee’s seartbelt and keeps one hand on her knee for the rest of the ride.
The villa’s fine architecture comes into view. Big, gorgeous houses shadow your figures. You imagine they belong to families with old money dating back centuries, celebrities, or politicians who’ve pocketed more than what they should. Yeonhee looks up at them admiringly. Yuki, on the other hand, jumps off the car like it’s nothing. She’s no stranger to luxury. It’s exactly why you’re confused by her proposal of invading a pool when she has one of her own.
Yeonhee doesn’t know that of course.
You stop in your tracks. “Wait! There’s a guard!”
Both girls snap their heads to the entrance. Indeed, an armed security guard sits in a chair with his arms crossed. A burnt cigarette hangs between his lips. Rough night, you suppose. It couldn’t be an easy job to protect a stingy, gated community all by yourself. Rich people were scared of everything—places that weren’t airconditioned, mosquitoes, and peddlers.
Most importantly, they were scared of college students such as yourself trying to sneak into private property. They had every right to be.
You think you regret agreeing to this now. “What do we do?”
There’s a CCTV propped above the gate. The boom barrier cannot be moved unless the guard controls it. And the guard in question has a fucking gun.
Yuki presses a finger to her lips. “Just follow me.”
You and Yeonhee look at each other in fear. It's impossible that even a wildcat like her could get past this. You offer a prayer that Yuki would set limits tonight. It’s one that would more likely than not go unanswered—Mori Koyuki has never been afraid of anything.
She slowly, surely tiptoes on the grass leading to the wall that surrounds the villa. You follow suit. You can hear Yeonhee whimpering. You accidentally step on a twig, making Yuki glare at you.
Yuki wraps her hands around the metal, leaning back for leverage, arms flexing with the labor—
“No way—”
—and hoists herself up the wall in one, massive go. Her sneakers scrape the otherwise pure white painting with dirt. Yeonhee muffles her squeal with a sleeve.
“Are you out of your fucking mind?” she whispers. You wholeheartedly agree—she’s so off the rails that she made Yeonhee cuss for the first time ever.
Yuki’s grin is sharp. “Try and keep up.”
At this point, you fully believe that if Yuki jumped off a cliff, so would you. Because you find yourself following her, helping Yeonhee over, your hand steady on her elbow. Her denim shorts catch onto the sharp edges. You then rush off into the night, trying to keep your footfalls as quiet as possible.
It takes three turns to finally reach the pool. Perhaps the adrenaline was worth it? Its turquoise walls reach deep into the water, making it look like a real ocean. Corals line the edges with a ladder. It’s the sort of luxury you’d find in high-end resorts.
And here you are swimming in it for free.
Yeonhee’s reflection looks anxious in the water. “Are you sure we should be doing this?”
Yuki puts an arm around her. Her voice is gentle. “We can go back if you want to, but I’m just saying… we’ll miss out on a lot of fun.”
She nods toward you. It’s your cue. You’re the first to break the surface, diving in with a splash that echoes through the silent estate. The water is cool. It isn’t warm enough to sting, but not cold enough to make you shiver.
Yuki throws her jacket off and steps out of her shorts. Her legs could go on forever. She makes a show of putting her hair down before diving right in.
“Cannonball!” she yells. She crashes right next you, causing a flood to take you down with her. Yeonhee giggles at it all. Finally, she steps right in, albeit settling for the shallower parts of the pool.
For a while, it’s just games. You feel like a kid playing pretend again. You invent “Marco Polo” with a twist, where the “Polo” has to answer a ridiculous trivia question Yeonhee comes up with. It ends with a tie, and Yeonhee, far too kind to declare anybody a loser, says you both win. Yuki organizes a floating race, where you all have to kick from one end to the other without using your arms.
“You cheated!” Yeonhee yells. It’s the loudest you’ve heard her speak. Wild golden flames dance in her eyes.
Yuki laughs loudly. “No I didn’t, maybe you need your glasses. You aren’t seeing clearly.”
“I use reading glasses, you—”
She lunges at Yuki. Both of them end up underwater, giggling and yelling.
Tonight has a lot of firsts. Of course, it’s your first time trespassing (and it’s definitely not something you’d be proud of down the line), but it’s also the first time you see Yeonhee let loose. Like, really let loose. Her hair is tangled from the pool water and sticks to those cheeks that stretch into an infectious smile. You don’t see that smile often. You can tell it’s the same for her best friend, who allows her to win their little “fight” and proposes a rematch.
You have no idea what time it is. Probably seven? Eight? You soon lose the energy in the taxing games you all wage. Yeonhee busies herself with perfecting a handstand she learned in gymnastics. Just how many skills does this girl hace? You shake your head in disbelief as you settle for the edge of the pool. Your muscles are sore. Maybe you strained it earlier from when you were playfully wrestling with Yuki.
Lean against the pool edge, head tipped to the sky. You close your eyes for a while. The light from the pool, lamps, and the moon pierce through your eyelids. It’s been a while since you went swimming. Although you still need to work on your backstrokes, your body feels freer down here than the land above.
Or so you thought.
A loud splash makes you open your eyes once more. It’s Yuki. Of course it is.
Only her eyes break above the surface, dark and inviting, making her look like a siren. Uh oh. You know that look too well. It’s the kind she flashes you before pulling you into the nearest staircase well, your hands ending up between her legs. You never had a chance.
Yuki lifts herself up. Water streams down her cleavage. “Wanna play another game?”
“You’re insatiable. Yeonhee’s right there.”
To your surprise, she doesn’t close on you. Hell, she doesn’t even palm your boner underwater. But she does something more dangerous:
She pushes herself out of the pool. Water streams down her body. There, the moon watches Yuki slip out of her bikini top, then her shorts, letting them fall to the tiles with soft, wet plops.
Yeonhee’s handstand collapses. She stares, wide-eyed, then quickly turns her attention back to the water. Both of your faces are heated. You seem to mirror each other often, especially when it comes to Yuki. The two of you blush when Yuki says another sultry innuendo, flinch when she touches you, and let her do anything she wants. You orbit around her like the sun.
She dives back into the pool. Yuki swims to you underwater, emerging right in front of you before her arms hang around your neck. Her full, supple body presses to yours. Before you could ask if she was crazy (although you know the answer to that already), her mouth finds you. Her tongue traces the seam of your lips before diving in.
Fuck.
You meet her with equal intensity, your hands finding her waist under the water. The smooth dip of her amazing hips fill your palms.
Weren’t you hesitating a few seconds ago? You should be telling her that she was insane, that she can’t just skinny dip when Yeonhee was there, that what she’s doing counts for public indecency.
You can’t find it in you to do it now.
Yeonhee is floating nearby. “This pool looks like the ones my rich aunt has, she got it for a fortune with the house,” she says, having forgotten what she saw. Or is she pretending not to have seen anything?
Yuki’s lips break from yours only to whisper, “Keep her talking,” before she kisses you even harder. One of your hands drifts from her waist, sliding down through the water. With how desperate Yuki’s gasping, it’s hard to throw Yeonhee off your scent. But god, will you have to try. You can’t traumatize the poor girl again.
You find her center under the water. The slick sensation between her amazing thighs is undeniable. Even the pool can’t make her this drenched. Your finger slips inside, and she gasps into your mouth, her body arching against you. Move slowly, your thumb finding a rhythm against her clit while your index finger curls inside her.
Yeonhee is now discussing the cleanliness of the pool water. “It’s very well-maintained. Like not even a leaf or something. The people here must pay well.”
Yuki’s breaths come in short bursts against your cheek. It’s like she wants to get caught. Her hips are moving with your hand, eyes closed tight. She bites your lower lip to stifle a moan. Her own hand is fighting the pressure of the water to jerk you off.
“You think they just… clean this with regular draining?” you ask, your voice remarkably even. Yuki giggles in your shoulder at how stupid you sound.
“No and yes. With traditional chlorine, of course,” Yeonhee corrects. “If you look closely, you can actually notice how the light throws it off a little. That’s why you don’t see fog or dirt. Assuming they don’t have a natural source, regular cleaning would be better than just wasting water each time someone steps in.”
Whatever that means. Your focus is on Yuki, who trembles in your arms. Her forehead rests against yours. You quickly add another finger. Make it your goal to get her there before Yeonhee realizes what you’re doing. The kiss becomes torrid. You can feel her climax building steadily.
Yeonhee, bless her innocent soul, starts speculating on the villa owner’s nationality based on the garden layout. She says something about how culture often influences design even when said designer creates internationally, but you don’t hear any of it. All you can hear is Yuki’s muffled cry in the crook of your neck.
Yuki’s body convulses, sharply jerking against you. You keep your digits still so she has something to squeeze down on as she cums. She neglects her strained handjob to squeeze your side. She can’t think clearly. The thrill of it all—the fact that this pool wasn’t hers and that Yeonhee could catch you if she looked the wrong way—gets her off as much as you do.
Slowly, you withdraw your hand. Her kiss is less hungry this time in an attempt to catch her breath. Beneath you, the rapids of the water finally subside.
Yeonhee finally turns around. You and Yuki immediately look away from each other. Yuki swims a few feet away but Yeonhee already looks suspicious.
She opens her mouth and you hold your breath for the worst.
“Did you guys hear that? I think a car might be coming.”
The spell breaks. She was right. The unmistakable sound of a revved engine was coming your way. Yuki, with effortless nonchalance, swims to where her clothes lie and starts putting them back on. You dry off your hair the best you can. You can only hope you didn’t leave anything in your panic.
-
Later in the car, Yeonhee’s all smiles. “That was fun!”
Her hair is wrapped in a towel. Yuki’s long since given up telling you not to wet her seats. But you try your best anyway, changing into a pair of shorts and putting on a cap. She keeps one hand on the steering wheel while she dabs her face with skincare. She puts some on the tip of Yeonhee’s nose and she giggles.
Yuki smiles at her. If she looked at her with more love than she already is, hearts might pop out of her pupils. Seeing her best friend without all the tension in her shoulders is a different type of joy. She’s literally glowing.
“I told you having fun won’t kill anybody.” She pauses, and looks at the rearview mirror. “Let’s just hope it won’t get us a lawsuit.”
-
Maybe it’s cheating. Maybe it’s a loophole that doesn’t go by the rules you’ve set for the bucket list. But this is about Yeonhee—you two are just in it for the ride. So, several weeks later, you all decide to miss that boring personal development class and push Yeonhee to abstain from her project.
Filling this part of the bucket list is long overdue. Yuki had presentations lined up for each day. Meanwhile, you had to submit several sketches for architecture. But you couldn’t imagine how much busier Yeonhee was compared to the two of you. Two of her organizations required a booth and a meeting, forcing her to play carpenter again plus fish out a few thousand won.
You’re just glad to be in The Cuppa. It’s your safe space. When all the shit you have to do beats you down—particularly toward the end of this semester where your professors unleash all unholy hell on you—this is where you turn to.
“It’s multi-tasking,” you explain to her, twirling your straw through the boba pearls. Then, to put things in her perspective: “Better than missing a class one day then flunking another project tomorrow, right?”
You ordered a classic to save your money. Yeonhee goes for a strawberry milk tea. Meanwhile, Yuki opts for this large, delicious milkshake topped with whipped cream and syrup.
It just begs another question: how the hell does Yuki keep that amazing figure? She’s never been one to go on diets. Right now, she’s chugging a thousand-calorie milkshake with no second thought about it. She never fails to keep you guessing.
The anxious taps of Yeonhee’s ballerina flat breaks your trail of thought. She’s staring longingly at her laptop. It’s at the edge of the table, closed and locked so as not to tempt her. She gives you an accusing look.
“What?” you ask.
She pouts. “You two are a bad influence.”
Yuki laughs heartily. “Oh please,” she says, waving a hand through the air. “That personal development class does nothing anyway. They should’ve kept that shit in first year.”
She gestures around, as if to say, look, you’re having way more fun out here than in some boring classroom. She seems to be the only one appreciating the added bubble tea menu. The Cuppa has a gorgeous, homely aesthetic with relaxing Sade tunes in the background. Not to mention the generous discount given because Yeonhee had connections with Eunbi, the manager. But the girl is still biting her nails nervously.
“Besides,” adds Yuki sweetly, “I’ve got enough personality already. I don’t need that class.”
Yeonhee quirks her lip. “Thank you for that really helpful insight.”
Yuki smirks. It’s rare for Yeonhee to be feisty. It does annoy her, however, that she’s letting out some of that bitchiness over a useless course of all things.
Sensing that nothing is getting to her, you jump in to help. Place your drink on the table for a minute. The tissue complete with The Cuppa logo sticks to the moisture forming around the plastic.
“Look, if this is about the deadline—”
“Yes, it’s about the deadline—”
“—then you deserve the break anyway.” You open Yeonhee’s laptop to show her the island of notifications from her group. One after the other, each message reads of panic. “You carried the dissertation on your back. It’s time they do their part.”
@/KimYeonhee where are you?? 😣 We need you, one message from Yunkyoung reads. It’s followed by a screenshot of a ridiculously constructed paragraph.
Another from Suyun says, hey idk why you’re inactive but… where’s the doc Yunkyoung’s talking about? Is this the map plan LOL
Too many people take advantage of Yeonhee’s infinite patience. For so long, she let them take another three hours of sleep while she lost hers fixing the bibliography. She was the one who sought credible sources both offline and online.
Now that she’s found temporary freedom from it, Yeonhee feels… odd. The darkness under her eyes was gone, replaced by a healthy softness to her cheeks. She’s radiant again but losing the weight of work is something she’s definitely not used to. She was accustomed to fitting her schedule between deadlines and writing up another paper.
Yeonhee looks two seconds away from typing in her PIN and getting back on the Google Doc. “But what if they don’t submit it on time?”
“It doesn’t matter. Professor Goeun is well aware that you’ve been doing all the work. Your groupmates should be the ones worrying, not you. You have to put yourself first.”
“I—I know but it just feels so wrong—”
Before you know it, Yeonhee bursts into tears. She covers her face with her hands, shaking in fear. Her frame is so tense, so paralyzed with anxiety that your heart breaks. You wonder if you’ve taken this too far. This one’s on you. You should’ve checked with her to see if this whole ordeal was okay.
Alarmed, Yuki wraps her arms around her. “Hey,” she coos softly. She runs her fingers through the girl’s hair. “Hey, you’re alright. You’re fine. What’s the matter?”
Yeonhee wipes her tears with her wrist. You offer her some tissues, and she accepts gladly. Her face is flushed red. The tears that puff her face make her look like someone far younger, someone who’s just been brought into the real world and has no idea what to do.
“We’re sorry. We shouldn’t have taken it this far.”
She shakes her head. “No, it’s not that.” The tiny smile on her face is genuine. “I actually had a lot of fun. This is the most fun I’ve had since… well, forever.”
You relax a little. At least you know now that she isn’t crying because you took it too far. The normal fun you and Yuki have could be extreme for her. This was a girl who had gone by the rules all her life, from the dress code to deadlines.
“Well, thank goodness.” Relief washes over Yuki’s face. That’s what matters, isn't it? She holds Yeonhee tighter. “Then why are you crying? Did we say something wrong?”
“Not at all. It’s just that—” Yeonhee hiccups a little, a sound caught between a sob and a groan. She lifts her slim shoulders. “I’ve never heard anyone tell me to put myself first.”
In the silence that hangs in the air, you could almost hear your heart and Yuki’s shatter. Yeonhee bows her head once more. Fat teardrops land on the fabric of her skirt.
You’ve accused people before of taking Yeonhee the wrong way. Yuki told you that she was bullied in high school by people who made her do their homework. She was called names for the sin of being dedicated to her studies.
But you find out now that you’ve misinterpreted her, too. Doesn’t matter if it was unintentional. She wasn’t doing the whole neat freak thing for fun. Nobody who was sane would do that. She was doing it because it was what she was used to. People expected her to fit the good girl stereotype, fitting her into a box since she was a teenager. People lounged back while relying on her to do the dirty work.
You cup her tiny, adorable face in your hands. “Well, you’re hearing it now.”
You thumb away a tear that trickles down her cheek and give her a quick, sweet kiss. Her lipbalm tastes like cherries.
It’s an impulsive thing to do. You know how these always end up. Curse yourself for putting your heart over your head again. But when you pull away, Yeonhee’s smiling gratefully.
She’s your friend. She’s got your back and you don’t have to be scared around her.
You search for any anger in Yuki’s face, already preparing to be scolded, but you find none. Instead, she interlocks her fingers with Yeonhee’s. “Remember we’re doing this for you,” she tells her. “You call the shots. We can stop anytime you want.”
The look in Yuki’s eyes, only reserved for you and Yeonhee, is so tender that it feels like you shouldn’t be witnessing their exchange. They’ve been linked before you even came along: braiding each other’s hair in high school, teaming up for entrance exams, and now, finishing college together. Together, like they’ve always been.
You have the good sense to leave, but then Yuki pulls you in to join the hug. Your eyes close. The warmth of the embrace somehow heals part of you that you never knew needed closure. They’re the friends you prayed for when you had nobody. They’re the closest and realest friends you’ve ever had, and it’s a scary thought, but you truly don’t know what to do without them.
Yeonhee finally starts to laugh. Minutes ago, she was drowned by appreciation for you, and now you’re sandwiching her in a hug. She gently pushes you away with a sniffle.
“You guys are so corny,” she says. “You’re lucky I love you.”
-
One of the many things Kim Yeonhee missed out on is the night life.
Every college student has dipped into it once or twice. Personally, you started seeing the beauty of it after a particularly horrible score. You went out with Yuki, had drinks, sat by the Han River, everything. It was a vice best handled at arm’s length. You knew that if you went regularly, a lot of things would go sideways.
Tonight, only the neon lights from the clubs of Gangnam illuminate the streets. This was the rich kid’s playground—everywhere you turn and look, your wallet practically begs to be emptied. There’s clothes, liquor, and tattoo shops. Samgyupsals are the biggest attraction here, but you didn’t get all dressed up to eat.
Graduation is in a week and you’re here to have unfiltered, shameless fun.
“Do you think you could handle it?” Yuki had asked Yeonhee, her voice tinged with concern. And it seemed as if she should ask the same to you—she has on black leather shorts, a crop top, and a bold lipstick that makes you want to pin her to the wall right there and then. Jesus. How could you handle all of that?
Yeonhee looked around. The wild landscape of the city was a panorama reflecting on her sunglasses. “We didn’t commute all the way here for nothing. I’m not going to chicken out now.”
This was not the Kim Yeonhee you know. Your Yeonhee sways around in little coquette skirts and ribboned top. This one had on a red dress that clung to her body, cut at the sides to show that deadly waist.
Yuki did the honors of doing Yeonhee’s hair and makeup. The almond shape of her eyes looks more dangerous with the sharp eyeliner.
You only noticed now the slight fang she has in the corner of her mouth, making her look like a vampire bathed in neon. You gulp. Yuki must have noticed your reaction, but if she did, she doesn’t say anything. Her knowing smirk says enough.
You party so much you don’t think you could attend the graduation afterparty. This night alone is equivalent to all the parties you’ll have in the future, enough to fill the gaps of your wedding and first car. The alcohol hums in your veins like little jolts of electricity, making your mind fuzzy. Your thoughts blur into one another and dictate your hands around Yuki’s waist. You always turn to her when you’ve got some in your system. Her familiar, reliable touch gets you down.
It cuts the same way for her, too. Yuki, damn her, presses her cute ass flush against your hard-on. The skirt lifts and pins to your stomach.
Yuki starts to move, igniting a fire with the friction of fabric and flesh on your erection. She raises her arms as she dances. There’s no need for pretense anyway. Everyone’s either doing the same thing you are or perhaps chatting their way into someone’s pants. But Yuki loves subtlety, no matter how bad she is at maintaining it.
You groan against her ear. “God—” A hundred bodies dance in huddles around you yet hers is the most magnetic. Nothing can pull you off her, not with those curves and waist.
She giggles, letting her head fall into your shoulder. Her hair against your ear muffles the Ne-Yo they’ve got booming through the speakers. Through the noise, you hear her, sultry and clear: “Are you gonna do it? Gonna cum on my ass in front of all these people?”
“If you keep doing that, I will.”
Your grip on her hips grows tighter. Your groans and whines are a symphony as Yuki does exactly what you fear and want. She bends over a little, shaking those cute cheeks into your core, and directs her grinding to the center of her shorts. You can feel how soaked she is in so little time.
She looks back at you, biting her lip. “You know she’s watching us, right?”
Although you’re drunk, it’s not difficult to know who she’s talking about. Yeonhee, your brilliant, beautiful friend, has gone away to get herself some drinks. She’s a big girl, right? She said so herself. You and Yuki felt comfortable enough to let her into the crowd and have some fun. But while she was gone, you were going to have some fun, too.
And you see her over Yuki’s shoulder. She’s just… standing there, glued to her place on the dance floor at the sight of you and Yuki. She stays there despite several wild moves from the girl in the tube dress and a guy who, when he saw her eyes on you, decided she might not be interested in him. You move to still Yuki’s hips, but to your shock, she doesn’t let herself be held back.
No. Yuki looks straight at Yeonhee as she rubs into you harder. Even flashes her a wicked smile.
You burn up for a different reason. This isn’t the first time Yeonhee caught you—this was just one of the several traumatizing moments she found Yuki unable to keep her hands off you. Now, she’s unlucky enough to see you dryhumping her in a public place. You hope this time, she commends you for choosing the club, which is shameless enough to let it pass.
“I—” Yeonhee’s words die just when they’re about to leave her mouth. She should’ve expected this, right?
Yuki pouts mockingly. “Is there something wrong, Yeonhee?”
Yeonhee realizes there’s no use in giving you your drinks. She had to fight a stampede for them, too. She sets them on a table, wondering what she should say. She has so many questions. The curiosity might kill her if she bites her tongue.
“Why are you looking at him like that…” asks Yeonhee. It’s two in the morning, she’s slightly tipsy, and right now, you’re starting to look really good all worked up.
You could feel the bass of the music pump in your chest. It grows rhythmless when you realize Yuki is, in fact, undressing you with her eyes. She doesn’t even stop grinding on you. She has no problem showing everyone what she likes to do to you.
And hearing the innocent possessiveness in Yeonhee’s voice takes you higher than any drug.
“Am I not allowed to?” Yuki laughs, taking no offense because Yeonhee clearly meant none. The girl was only curious, almost naive. “I’m just trying to figure out the perfect place for the tattoo. We talked about it earlier, remember.”
She isn’t totally lying. To finally complete the bucket list, all three of you had agreed on the friendship tattoo you’ll get. Yeonhee volunteered quotes, but when she heard the vulgar double entendres Yuki suggested, that was quickly shot down. You finally settled for a small moon (you), star (Yeonhee), and a planet (Yuki.) You don’t know when you got sidetracked from going to the tattoo parlor. You’re willing to bet it was when Yuki saw Swan again after a while near the entrance. One thing led to another, and now you’re here in this extremely compromising position.
Yeonhee doesn’t buy it; her cheeks are cherry red. She manages a little white lie anyway because, well, you were her boyfriend. Yuki might not like labels but that gives her no right to stake her claim over you. “I was just concerned.”
“Are you jealous?”
Both you and Yeonhee stop dead in your tracks.
“What?”
Yuki stops grinding against you. She has another idea, and Mori Koyuki isn’t one to have hesitation. Her hips sway as she approaches Yeonhee.
“Do you want me to look at you like I look at him?” she asks, and does exactly that: shamelessly letting her dark eyes wander over her amazing body. She knows more about Yeonhee beyond that steadfast dedication to her degree and her favorite color. She knows what she’s hiding under those big clothes.
Yeonhee looks like she’s going to explode. You’re both speechless as Yuki circles her like prey.
(Not far off. See the scene earlier, before you booked a taxi to Gangnam:
“No offense,” said Yuki as she towered over her, putting mascara on her fine lashes, “it’s fine to be cute, really. But it’s getting old. We know you’re capable of being a hottie.”
They were on top of each other on the rocking bed. You tried not to look but there was a clear, mutual feeling between you and Yeonhee. You had no idea how to handle an enigma like Yuki, especially when she had you wrapped around her little finger. She knew that well.
Yeonhee attempted to move, but was held back by Yuki pressing her weight more firmly on top of her. She still had to do her eyeshadow. The smokey color on her eyelids made the flustered color on her cheeks more obvious. Funny. Yuki hadn’t put blush on her yet.)
Yeonhee’s throat bobs. So often do words fail her when she’s around Yuki, when the younger girl sizes her up like this. With them, the fact that she’s older is completely disregarded, honorifics out the window, the pointless performative respect gone. Yuki already claimed the upper hand.
She wields control like it’s nothing. “Oh, you’ve been dreaming of it, haven’t you, baby?” she asks. Yeonhee doesn’t shake her head. “I’m right, aren’t I? You want me to fuck you like I fuck him.”
Wait wait wait, this was absofuckinglutely nowhere on the bucket list, you scream in your head. You can’t tear your eyes off the scene in front of you. It’s the way Yuki drives her crazy, and how Yeonhee doesn’t even make a move to fight or deny anything. Whatever Yuki’s saying is the plain truth, in all its obscenity. Her flimsy excuses won’t hold up in court, where the jury’s taken Yuki’s side. A unanimous ruling in Yuki’s favor.
That’s just how the world works for her. Yuki gets what she wants no matter what.
“I—” Yeonhee stammers nervously. What percentage of her life has been spent cowering and blushing around Yuki? The words often die on her tongue when she gets close. No one can say no to her.
Not even a mathematician like Yeonhee can calculate it fast enough before Yuki puts her lips on hers.
Yeonhee goes still. Yuki’s hand cups the side of her face so she could slip her tongue inside, capturing her mouth even harder. She could feel the heat radiating from Yeonhee’s cheek on her fingertips. She liplocks her more passionately, making it something she’d never forget, putting on a show for you. Their tongues pass over each other, plump lips soft.
She smiles as she pulls away. To you, it felt a lot longer than that. Your cock strains in your pants while Yeonhee looks positively turned on. Yearning’s etched all over her blushing features.
“Well, that’s one off the list,” Yeonhee jokes, trying to pretend as if it were nothing. You share awkward laughs to brush it off. Hate that there aren’t automatic sitcom laughs to hold up.
But she knows that was an unwise decision when Yuki places a hand on her waist.
“Want to check off another one?”
-
Yuki would do anything for her best friend.
They’ve known each other since the days of puppy love and hormonal acne. Seeing each other grow up was a privilege. It’s the kind of thing that sustains a friendship. They took entrance exams together, cried over exes, everything. Yuki knows they’d do it all over again to preserve what they had.
And so when she checks in to a five star hotel suite just to fill up the last of the bucket list, she knows Yeonhee would do the same if need be.
You’d argue that it was ridiculous to spend so much for the sole purpose of fucking. The premise itself was ridiculous. But you can’t exactly complain when you’ve got Yeonhee’s hungry lips on your mouth, and Yuki kissing the back of your neck. You feel her teeth sink into your shoulder and you groan helplessly. You’re stuck between two magnets that are both attracted to you. There’s nowhere to run.
You don’t plan to.
If news gets out before graduation and makes it onto the university’s gossip page, this is the best excuse you can come up with: all of you were pretty drunk.
But lord knows that with or without alcohol, you can’t say no to the girls’ amazing bodies. Your hands are attached infinitely to Yeonhee’s waist. Occasionally, you reach back to cup Yuki’s cheek, pulling her closer to you.
Yeonhee finally pulls away. It’s like your breaths were sealed into a vacuum and left you in this expensive suite, with her bra half unclasped and Yuki’s lipstick already smeared. Only they can make you sweat in an airconditioned room.
You’ve found her nipple, twisting it under that excuse of a dress. She heaves a delicate sigh. She’s so sensitive. Each little touch causes the sweetest noises to spill from her pretty mouth. “God,” she whines, breathless, “you’re such a good kisser.”
Yuki smirks. “You’ve been missing out on a lot more than French kisses, Yeonhee.”
As if to show off the example, she gropes your clothed cock. It’s making a dent through your boxers. Yeonhee can’t take her eyes off it. You’ve never quite seen this needy look on her before. It suits her, to be honest, but god, you really did corrupt her, didn’t you? She looks far from the good girl she was months ago.
Or maybe she was never the good girl she claimed to be. Perhaps her eyes lingered longer than they should when she caught you and Yuki going at it, or watched your arms around each other, wishing for something she didn’t quite understand.
The thought makes you shiver. The temperature provides some refuge, sort of, reaching an all-time high when Yuki pulls your boxers down. Her fist is a velvet grip around your length. She jerks you off quickly, making your knees buckle as she twists her hand around. She giggles at the precum leaking from your tip.
“Aww, did I turn you on too much? You’re so fucking hard and you aren’t even inside me yet.”
Yuki leaves an open-mouthed kiss on your shoulder while Yeonhee watches, too stunned to even speak. She’s squirming. She wants to slip her hand under her dress the moment Yuki’s kisses turn into little love bites. Your flesh is peppered with the stain of Yuki’s lipstick under purple bruises sure to hurt tomorrow.
Your teeth grit against each other. It’s impossible to cope with the smooth friction of Yuki’s hand. You can’t even survive Yeonhee’s sultry gaze alone.
Yuki nods at Yeonhee. Her other hand strokes the bone of your hip. “Get on your knees, gorgeous. Show him how badly you want that dick.”
Curse under your breath. What’s happening now is a fantasy you’ll never admit to having. Nobody can beat this information out of you.
But Yeonhee seems to already know. She looks hypnotized as she sinks to the floor. She doesn’t even hesitate. Her dress looks better on the carpet. A fast fashion piece like that doesn’t deserve to drape Yeonhee’s wide hips, or those perky tits just begging to be played with.
Tighten your abs to keep you from blowing. Each scene unfolding at this very moment is a dream come true. The loss of Yuki’s quick hand on your cock feels foreign. You were used to always touching each other, joining your bodies so often that a few centimeters apart feels like hell.
No matter: Yeonhee brings you right back to heaven with her lips on your shaft.
Her tongue drags a trail of hot drool on your underside. She’s an amateur, her skills unable to parallel with Yuki’s. But she’s getting there for sure. Besides, Yuki had the unfair advantage of blowing you a million times. There was that one under the table as you gamed, or some mornings ago when she felt your cum was a better alternative to milk. You can appreciate the innocent lapping at the sensitive flesh of your balls and cockhead.
“Oh, don’t be a tease now, Yeonhee.” Yuki kneels next to the older girl. “You’ve done that for far too long.”
Their lewd conversation is an aphrodisiac, you swear. Hearing Yuki guide her friend in blowing you feels straight out of your dreams. Have you maxed your luck out? You can’t aim higher than this: having two gorgeous girls prepare to drain your cum.
When Yeonhee’s wet mouth greets your dick, it’s final. You don’t want to wake up from this dream.
Your head falls back. You stumble a little, overwhelmed by the sensation of that vibrating whimper and that tongue of hers. You fall back against the edge of the bed. A few inches slip out from the clench of her lips. But it’s back once she’s gotten her hands on your quads to help her out.
Your sex is completely drenched with her work. She sucks you off harder before she pulls away for a breather. Her shoulders rise in sync with her heavy panting. A string of spit connects her swollen lips to you.
Then she goes in for the kill. Yeonhee pushes herself forward and welcomes you into her tight throat. Your knuckles turn pale on the edge of the mattress.
“Jesus, Yeon…” Can’t even get her name out. Her lips are glossed with drool as she takes you. Her soft cheeks hollow and you’re able to dent the skin gently with your tip. The feel of the side of her cheeks alone makes you shiver. It isn’t even that which makes you weak at the knees, gripping at the edge of the hotel bed. It’s the fucking pace she sets, too fast even for her to keep up with, reintroducing your girth into the column of her throat. It brings tears into those pretty eyes.
You have to fist your hand in Yeonhee’s glossy hair when she starts to gag a little. The contraction of her throat has your toes curling, and you have to remind yourself that you aren’t allowed to pull her hair or force your cock deeper even if she wanted to. There’s a boundary here that is still there despite how blurred it is. She’s still your best friend.
But then Yuki breaks the tension and fixes her fingers over yours in Yeonhee’s hair. She starts to force Yeonhee’s head down your cock, guiding her back and forth. You feel Yeonhee’s grip on your thighs grow tighter.
“Y-Yuki, what the hell!” you gasp. Your muscles wound tight, the friction of Yeonhee’s throat and deliciously plump lips torturing you. You want to reprimand Yuki, tell her Yeonhee’s not ready for that. Let her take her time. She’s not as wild as she is.
But Yeonhee doesn’t even fight the pressure any less than you fight to free yourself from the overwhelming pleasure. Encouraged by Yuki’s stern fingers curled on her scalp, she takes in quick breaths through her nose (or tries to) as she takes your cock. Her whimpers only add to the pleasure when they buzz against you.
Guilt is what you should feel in this situation. Yeonhee always pushes herself to take more than what she can. Her hands deftly play with your balls, eyes trained on your face to see if she’s doing well, your cock from tip to base pleasured by those deadly lips. But it’s only mindnumbing ecstasy that envelops you now—no thoughts, no consequences, only Yeonhee and that fuckable face.
“That’s it, pretty girl,” says Yuki in a whisper. Her grip loosens and then becomes almost comforting. She’s stroking Yuki’s strands, wiping away the stray tears and assessing the bruises. “Always knew you could do it. You just wanted to be a cocktease this whole time.”
Whatever. You’d say those months before this night spent filling up the bucket list paid off in the end. You’re going to cum. The furious bobs of Yeonhee’s face are throwing you over the edge.
Much to your disappointment, Yuki keeps her from finishing the job. Her glistening lips depart from your aching dick with an obscene pop. And lord, Yeonhee looks utterly wrecked. Her hair, which was done with hairspray and attentive combing, falls down her shoulders in a mess.
And through all that, Yeonhee still looks like the prettiest girl in the world.
She whines in protest. “What’d you do that for? I was getting so good.”
“That’s only the beginning,” replies Yuki simply. “Doesn’t count until he really gets that big thing inside you.”
You’re too fucked out to even see right. It’s the alcohol or something,, blurring things together and making up what isn’t there. But if the scene of Yuki reaching under Yeonhee’s legs and stroking her is real, that’s just another surprise of the night.
Yeonhee purrs at the feeling. She’s drunk with pleasure. She’ll have a hard time weaning herself off the feeling of Yuki’s fingers against her soaked center. You know the feeling too well.
She’s made a mess through her panties already. Yuki focuses the pressure on her clit, making the girl squirm and finding relief in clinging to your flexed arm. “Yuki, please…”
“No, don’t look at me like that. Be a big girl and tell him straight up what you want.’
Yeonhee lifts her head to you. The light seems to single her out, contouring each perfect shape on her face and figure. Where do you even start to look—her glorious thighs wet with her own slick or those eyes that, for the first time, hold your gaze?
“Want you to fuck me,” she says. “Want you to make me cum so hard I can’t think. Please, I deserve it. I’ve waited so long.”
The filth in those words is ridiculous, so removed from the Yeonhee who wouldn’t curse even if nobody could hear her. The raw confession is a direct trigger to the blood rushing to your shaft. Waited so long.
Maybe that’s why you lift her onto the bed carelessly.
Maybe that’s why you tower over her as you hold her legs together, all sane thought out of the window at the sight of the dress bunching up at her hips.
Maybe that’s why despite all the reasons why you shouldn’t do this, you slip your length between her thighs and realize you’ve forever dreamed of doing that.
The combined wetness from the previous blowjob and the waterfall between her thighs makes you tremble. She’s so fucking wet. Her thighs are slick and allow you to set a mindless pace, chasing after the soft friction they provide. The underside of your cock grinds against her pussy lips, hitting her clit along the way and making her whimper.
“Please, oh god, please—” Her eyes screw shut. It feels way too good. Each part of her tight body is screaming for you to fuck her. The poor thing’s about to cry from desperation.
Yuki, definitely not allowing herself to go without a little gratification, climbs over the bed. Her clothes join Yeonhee’s on the floor. She straddles Yeonhee’s shoulders, lowering herself until she’s seated fully on Yeonhee’s face. Yeonhee makes a little sound of surprise. But if there’s anything you know about Yuki, one taste always makes people come back for more. Once they get their tongue in her mouth or on her clit, it becomes an addiction. It’s the kind you never want to recover from.
So it’s no surprise when Yeonhee’s hands come up to grip Yuki’s hips. She starts lapping at the soaked flesh eagerly, tongue running along her folds. You can hear just how well she’s eating Yuki out, how wet she’s making her from the obscene sounds filling the suite.
It’s final. You have to relieve yourself.
You withdraw from the clasp of Yeonhee’s thighs. Sweat shimmers on your bodies. You position yourself at her entrance, and although Yuki’s insane midriff blocks you from her view, you can picture how needy she is, written all over her face and in the way she’s frantically eating Yuki out.
“Fuck!” You can’t take it any longer. Finally, finally push into her. Her spasming walls grip onto you like they won’t dare you to go anywhere. “Yeonhee, you’re so goddamn tight.”
You can barely move. Her pussy has a death grip on you. You can only manage to get more of yourself inside when her walls flutter.
Yeonhee moans into Yuki’s cunt. You set a deep, relentless pace, each thrust driving her harder into the mattress. Your moans blend into theirs. It’s filthy. You’re hypnotized by how your cock dents the flat of Yeonhee’s tummy, how Yuki’s riding grows more erratic. Her thighs bear the indentations of Yeonhee’s fingernails.
The only sensation is dizzying pleasure and heat. You’re a triangle of sin, grinding and moaning and pushing against each other. You’ve no idea how it got to this point, but you never want to leave.
“I’m so fucking close,” whimpers Yuki. Her thighs crush Yeonhee’s head. Her hips crash into her mouth again and again. There’s no room to breathe. Her pitchy moans turn into screams. “Oh my god!”
It’s Yuki who shatters first, trembling against Yeonhee’s face. Her juices flood the girl’s mouth and down to the sheets. It dribbles down her chin in messy drops. Soon, you feel the convulsion of Yeonhee’s own body around you, triggered by Yuki’s climax and the overwhelming fullness. Her hole seals around you as she cries out.
“Don’t stop,” orders Yuki. Her voice is rough and low. She dismounts Yeonhee’s mouth so you can hear the full extent of her screams, how good you’re making her feel. “You’re not going anywhere until you cum inside her.”
That’s something you won’t hesitate to obey. Yeonhee’s ecstatic face pulls you over the edge immediately after. Each heavy thrust is met with a bounce of her tits. You fall forward into them before painting her walls with thick cum.
It’s a total mess. You pity the hotel staff who will have to clean up this room tomorrow. Your cum spills out of Yeonhee’s pussy and into the sheets. Lipstick stains the pillows as a permanent reminder of what happened here. Take a mental note to leave a big tip as a formal apology.
A minimum of a hundred dollars, maybe?
The two women lie panting on the bed. Messy streaks of hair circle Yeonhee’s head like a halo. You smirk. It would be fitting if you hadn’t just creampied her. At least Yuki isn’t pretending to be a saint. Once you’ve got the energy to pull yourself up, tear your body away from theirs, she stops you.
“Where do you think you’re going, boy toy?”
You freeze. Accusation’s written all over Yuki’s face. It’s a challenge you always lose.
“Have you forgotten about me?” Yuki asks. Her mile-long legs have a clear path to you. “You still have to fill my ass up.”
She captures your lips again. The protest dies in your throat. You’ll always give in to her, no matter what, and she knows this well. Her lips taste like strawberry chapstick.
You rub your hand against her arousal, and press a finger against Yuki’s other entrance. She stiffens for a second, then nods frantically against your mouth. Yes, she seems to say without the need for words, yes, please. You replace your fingers with the head of your cock; she lets out a sound that’s pure ecstasy. The teasing penetration is slower, but the chills still run down your back. Her puckered hole is begging to be ruined.
“Stand up,” you command, your voice rough.
Yuki obeys. Sex is the only time you have a semblance of control over her. She quickly retrieves a bottle of lube from the side table drawer. You’re puzzled. She must have kept it in her bag, smirked at the bouncer when he realized what it was.
She turns around and presents herself to you, her shorts around her ankles. You come behind her and help to pull her panties down.
Yuki lets out a choked sob of anticipation. The leather of the ottoman is cool against her forehead. The crown of your cock kisses the tight rim of her asshole.
“Watch and learn, Yeonhee,” you murmur, and in time with her exhale, you push inside.
She’s a hot vise around you. Yuki lets out a vulgar cry that morphs into a moan. She sounds more and more broken as more inches of your shaft pierce through her plump ass.
Each thrust jolts through her slender frame. The ottoman creaks. Yuki’s knuckles are white where she grips it. Her moans are continuous now, mixed with your name and Yeonhee’s. The latter’s glassy eyes are fixed on the two of you.
“Fuck, oh fuck, Just like that! Ruin my asshole!”
You feel the coil in your gut tighten. It’s a pressure you know all too well. You reach around Yuki’s hip, your fingers finding her clit, rubbing hard, fast circles.
It sends her over the edge immediately. Her body clamps down on you in rhythmic pulses, pulling the orgasm from you with violent force. You bury yourself to the hilt as far as you can go. Your hands take leverage on her hips as you drive yourself in her asshole again and again.
You slowly pull out. Yuki’s legs feel like jelly. She slumps against the ottoman. You’d help her up but your own bones feel broken. You collapse against the bed beside your other friend. All of you are thoroughly spent.
“See?” Yuki whispers. Her finger traces Yeonhee’s lower lip. “Now you’ll know what to do next time.”
-
No matter how filthy your story is, it remains what it is: one that shows how fast you grow up. You’ve grown a few inches taller (can’t say the same for the girls), but none the wiser. You’re still young. Graduating won’t magically make you know what to do with your life. A good course doesn’t guarantee a good job. Even Yeonhee’s high grades won’t mean a high salary. If worse comes to worst, you’ll all have to beg Yuki to let you move in with her.
She’d probably call the two of you dumbasses. You’d reason that she has another house anyway—she’s the one who’s got it easier while you and Yeonhee have unsure tomorrows ahead of you. She’d roll her eyes again before agreeing anyway.
But that’s what you think will happen. For now, it’s this:
A furious matriarch knits her brows at the glitchy footage in front of her. She raises a finger in the poor guard’s face and asks why the hell he couldn’t afford better videos when she pays him so well. Now, the pool is ruined and it’s his fault. He failed to protect the villa from three people who could’ve been burglars if they hadn't had a little luck.
“What is this, a charity house? How the hell did they get in?”
“I’m sorry, ma’am—”
“I want you to find out who they are or I’ll have you fired!” she screams, and that’s that. He couldn’t lose his job.
He asks a friend of a friend if they can upscale the video. She does, but the quality of the original is so low that the aftermath is still incomprehensible. The three culprits’ faces are still pixelated.
All the evidence left at the scene won’t help either. It’s only a wet piece of paper. It’s drenched through the material, resulting in the only readable line being:
dick !!!!!!
The security guard rips it up in his frustration and throws the stupid thing into the pool. “Fucking kids these days.”
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So there was a little prompt challenge I took part in.
Length 2.3K
Eunha X Mreader X Sana
“You again, and bothering us during our coffee break,” Sana says, rolling her eyes as she watches you walk in. The ends of her lips rise slightly, but she purses her lips, forcing them back down. It wasn’t their coffee break, but they would take any chance to tease you.
“Always so hostile,” You bring yourself to sit on the old leather armchair you always sit on when these sessions begin. “So what are you making? A cafe latte, just a shot of espresso, or something else?”
“Wouldn’t you like to know?” Sana says sarcastically as she closes the lid, listening to the machine stir to life. “How should we do this?” Sana asks her partner, Eunha.
“Do we want to test him a little?” Eunha smirks, her tongue popping out as she runs it between her lips. Eunha glances at the coffee as it drips down into the carafe. “I do have an idea.”
“Ooh, I think I know what you have in mind. Let’s go ahead with that.”
“New challenge for you, make us cum before the coffee gets cold,” Eunha says plainly.
“Such vulgar language, Eunha,” you tease.
“It's so a person like you understands,” she bites back.
You focus on the matter at hand. “No milk.”
“If you need the handicap,” The women giggle to themselves while you sigh. You were going to let them enjoy their little joke. “Do you want us to put it in a thermos, too?” That comment stung a bit; you knew they were joking, but it still stung. “I’ll pour it, Eunha. You can help strip him.”
Eunha approaches you, her hands drifting to the hem of her shirt. Her fingers curl around the fabric as she pulls it off. Eunha hadn’t bothered to wear a bra; the heavy wool fabric was more than enough for her. You smirk. It was always enjoyable seeing the pink peaks of Eunha’s mounds, more so when she was walking towards you, and you got the chance to see them bounce. Eunha stops as she reaches you, motioning you to stand up. “Come on, make it easy for me.” You push off the armrests and stand for the young woman. Eunha places her gloved hand over your crotch, rubbing your growing bulge. “A look is all it takes, huh?”
“Can you blame me?”
“No, no, I can’t.” She says with a smile, her hands moving to your belt. The metal clangs together as she gets it loose and unbuttons your pants. Eunha’s fingers slip under your briefs, and she pulls both them and your pants down to your knees, letting gravity do the rest of the work for her. She runs her hand along your shaft as she moves to strip you of your shirt. She gets it over your head without much fanfare, looking over her shoulder as she says, “He’s all set over here. Ready to start?” You lean to one side and see Sana’s naked form grabbing the full pot of coffee.
“Let’s start,” Sana states, pouring a cup of coffee and letting it rest on the counter as she walks toward you. Both Sana and Eunha kneel before you.
“Hold on, shouldn’t I get to decide how we start things?”
“Are you afraid you’re going to lose if we don’t?” Eunha asks. You knew their goal was to have you fail. Yet, you didn’t want to give them any opportunity to say they made it easy for you.
“Alright, fine.” The pair shares a quick smirk before beginning their work. Sana wraps her hand around the base of your shaft, moving her hand slowly while Eunha presses her full lips against the tip. Her tongue slips out from between her lips, rubbing against the tip. You grunt, reveling in the feeling of Eunha’s lips slowly enveloping the head. Her tongue circles your cock, her cheeks hollowing while Sana continues to move her hand along your shaft in quick jerky motions.
Sana smiles up at you, “See, you love this.” You weren’t going to argue; you did enjoy the way they worked together. You didn’t get to enjoy it for long; however, Sana released her grip over you, allowing Eunha to bob her head as she wished while she took care of other things—namely, the clothes Eunha still wore. Sana crawled behind her Korean cohort, first slipping her hands over Eunha’s soft mounds, giving them a gentle squeeze before moving her hands down Eunha's soft flesh. Sana reached the zipper of Eunha’s skirt and slowly brought it down over Eunha’s wide hips, letting the roll all the way down before tossing the skirt to the side. “There we go,” Sana coos, her hands wandering around Eunha’s body.
Eunha moans softly as she feels one of Sana’s soft hands grab at her tit again. The small hand kneaded her soft mound, while the other went south, down Eunha’s stomach and toward her sensitive nub. Eunha let her friend do as she pleased, focusing as much as she could on you, knowing the erotic sight was more than enough to help push you over the edge.
It certainly helped that the pleasure made Eunha moan, those vibrations sending more waves of pleasure your way as the young Korean woman had you down her throat. You grunt and groan as Eunha moves her lips along your shaft, staining it with her lipstick. She ensured that you would reach your climax quickly, her tongue snaking along the underside. Eunha can feel your cock throbbing, your veins pulsing quickly as your heart rate quickens. She brings one hand to stroke the base of your cock while she focuses on the head, the loud slurping pushing you over the edge. You cum quickly, your semen shooting onto Eunha’s tongue and down her throat as she sucks you dry.
Eunha’s hand goes from quick movement to slow twists as she sucks the last of your cum from the tip. She lets out a satisfied sigh as she lets you go. “You can still go, right? You’re not going to get soft on us?” Eunha didn’t even need to ask; her eyes never left your cock. It was still hard.
“Alright, I guess you earned a chance. Who do you want?” Sana asks, slowly rising from behind Eunha.
“Looks like you’re volunteering yourself.”
Sana smiles and walks over to the couch, bending herself over the armrest. “Alright, do your worst.” Sana had to admit, she was excited to see what you’d do. You had been impressing her on the last few visits. As much as she played someone uninterested, she had grown fond of these escapades with you. Sana groaned softly as the tip of your cock rubbed against her puffy folds. “Getting right to it, I see,” She managed to say before you drove your cock into her with reckless abandon. Sana’s body tensed; she felt you in her core. “That’s the ticket,” she thought to herself. Sana placed her hand on the armrest and arched her back. “So rough, you really can’t get enough, can you?” You didn’t say a word, letting your actions speak for you. Sana kept her head down, smiling now that you couldn’t see her face. She tried to hold back her moans. It worked for a little bit, but eventually the dam broke, and Sana let her moans fill the small room. Her hands gripped the sofa cushions. She used what strength she could to push herself back as each of your thrusts sent her forward.
Eunha stood beside you, her fingers circling your nipple as she watched you take her friend. “Look at you go. You have her moaning so much. I bet you think you have her all figured out.” Eunha says softly, “Well, it pays to pay attention.”
You slip one hand from Sana’s waist to her upper half, pulling her back and against you. “Treating me like a toy, h-how rude,” Sana mumbles, the pleasure slowly building within her. She grits her teeth as your hand finds its way to her tawny rouge nipple. You roll it between your fingers, increasing the waves of pleasure Sana felt. She was reaching her limit, and you both knew it. Sana's body took over, pushing back against you as you drove yourself deep into her cunt. The coil that had been tightening in Sana’s core finally broke as you buried yourself inside her, your cum shooting into her. She cried out in pleasure, her walls clamping down around your shaft. Sana turned her head just as you pushed yours forward, your lips meeting in a kiss as you pumped the young woman full of your cum.
You linger for a moment, enjoying her warm, tight depths for a little while longer before remembering your challenge. You pull out of Sana and turn toward Eunha. The young Korean woman is baring her teeth as she smiles at you. “You almost forgot, didn’t you?” She places her hand on your chest, tilting her head slightly as she asks, “So, how do you want me?”
“You’ll see,” you reply, pulling Sana away and toward the armchair. You push Sana against it. Sana falls back, her back arching over one of the armrests as her legs hang off the other. You shift your attention back to Eunha. You press your lips against Eunha’s as you press her onto the couch.
You break the kiss early, flipping Eunha onto her stomach. “Can’t you be more creative?” She asks, noting the similarity between her position and Sana’s. You stay silent, your hands move down Eunha’s side until you reach her plush rear. You knead her cheeks, the soft flesh melding into your hands as you slowly spread them apart. You gather your saliva and spit on Eunha, letting your saliva run in the valley you created. Eunha shudders, knowing what you planned to do. “I guess you do take notes,” She says, recalling how she mentioned loving anal during your last meeting. You press the head of your slick cock against Eunha’s puckered hole, pushing in slowly. Your actions earn you a groan from the Korean woman. Eunha grabs at her breasts, squeezing the soft mounds and shutting her eyes as she revels in the pleasure washing over her. She feels you stretching out the tight ring of muscles as you push deeper, your cum and Sana’s nectar acting as a perfect lube.
You’re forced to take things slow, pushing in before moving back out, only to go further the next thrust. Eunha’s walls are tight, clinging to you as you try to force more in. Eunha doesn’t try to hide her moans, letting pleasure take hold of her. After what seems like ages, you're finally buried inside Eunha’s ass. You feel like you could cum at any moment. Sana’s cunt could barely compare right now. You place your hands on Eunha’s waist, holding her tightly as you attempt to pull out. The act is difficult, but every inch that you do earns you another moan from Eunha, her voice practically piercing the heavens as you push back in. Eunha’s head shoots back as she feels you buried inside her again. Eunha tries to think of something to say to you, but her mind is blank. She can only think about the pleasure she feels as you begin to move inside her with more ease. Each thrust makes her walls slicker, allowing you easier access.
Eunha’s bubble butt presses against you with every stroke. You watch it recoil, her flesh jiggling in those moments between thrusts. The pale flesh calls to you, and you deliver a hard smack, the sound bouncing off the walls. “Oh, God,” Eunha moans, the sting from the strike adding to her pleasure. She wasn’t going to last much longer. Eunha bit the couch cushions as she tightened her muscles around you. It was unbearable. You were feeling just as much pleasure as Eunha was. You can only give her a few more thrusts before you impale her on your cock and give her a deep cumshot. Eunha was sent over the edge at that exact moment. She feels you unloading into her stomach and lets her moan fill the room.
You collapse on top of her, your cock still buried inside Eunha’s ass. As you both try to catch your breath, Sana slowly stands from the armchair, her legs shaky as she makes her way to the counter. She takes a small drink from the cup and smiles. “I think you lose this one.” Sana walks over to you and brings the cup to your lips. It was barely lukewarm. While you could argue it was still technically warm, it would be a losing battle when it was in both their interests to say it was cold. You place your hands on either side of Eunha and use your remaining strength to pull out of her, her body refusing to give you up. When you're finally free, a small pop comes with it. Eunha rests her head on her arms, her eyes still shut as she enjoys the warmth across her body.
“Looks like it’ll be double today,” Eunha says.
“Don’t be so sad, you still got to cum plenty,” Sana states, kissing you on the cheek. That didn’t help with your wallet being drained more than you expected today. Not even Eunha’s kiss on the cheek would help with that. The women lay on the couch against each other as they watched you put your clothes back on.
“Come back again, maybe on your next visit you’ll be able to do it.” Eunha teases.
“Maybe, or maybe not,” Sana replies. “Stop by whenever. This was fun, hope you think so, too.” You wave goodbye to the women, cursing yourself for making things harder by trying anal when it took way too long. Still, you had to admit Eunha and Sana made for great workers at the brothel.
The late morning sun filtered softly through the curtains of Somi’s spacious apartment, casting a warm glow across the living room. It was a rare peaceful day—no schedules, no photoshoots, no rehearsals. Twice was currently on hiatus, and Somi herself had cleared her calendar completely. For the first time in months, she had an entire day to herself.
Well… almost to herself.
A small, excited smile played on her lips as she remembered her promise.
She had told Momo yesterday that they would go on a shopping spree together. Just the two of them. No managers, no staff—pure girls’ day out. Momo had sounded so happy on the phone that Somi couldn’t help but feel giddy too.
Somi stood in front of the full-length mirror in her bedroom, wearing nothing but a tight white tank top and tiny black shorts that barely covered her toned ass. She raised both arms and gathered her long, platinum blonde hair, tying it into a high, bouncy ponytail. The simple motion made her body stretch naturally, and she took a moment to admire herself in the reflection.
“Damn…” she whispered with a satisfied smirk.
Her sexy, busty figure was on full display. The tight tank top clung to her full, heavy breasts, the thin material stretched taut over her deep cleavage. Her waist was slim and toned, flaring out into wide, curvy hips that gave her that perfect hourglass shape. Her long legs looked endless, smooth, and lightly tanned. As she stretched her arms higher, her back arched, pushing her chest forward. Her breasts bounced slightly, straining against the fabric, her nipples faintly visible through the white material.
She turned sideways, still stretching, and admired the way her ass filled out the tiny shorts—round, firm, and juicy. The ponytail swayed cutely behind her as she tilted her head, checking herself out from every angle.
Somi had always known she had an incredible body, but today she felt especially sexy. Maybe it was the freedom of having no schedules. Or maybe it was the thought of spending the whole day with Momo—her cute, bubbly unnie who always made her feel playful and a little naughty.
She lowered her arms and gave her reflection one last look, hands sliding down her sides, tracing her narrow waist and the swell of her hips.
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Chapter 1 - Momo
Chapter 2 - Momo
Chapter 3 - Momo x Somi
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