Jaewon

I finished what was left on my tray in record time, muttered something about needing the bathroom, and stood. Nobody paid attention. They never did. Karina waited a full minute before she followed, collecting her bag and saying she had to grab something from her locker. Classic. We’d done this enough times that the excuses almost wrote themselves.

The hallway outside the cafeteria was quieter. Most people were still eating. I headed straight for the restroom on the far side of the building, the one that stayed emptier during lunch because it was a little out of the way. I pushed the door open, checked the stalls. Empty. Good. I texted her the number and waited just inside, heart already kicking harder than it should for something we’d done before.

She slipped in a minute later, locking the main door behind her with a soft click. That look on her face—half mischief, half need—hit me square in the chest.

“Jihoon,” she whispered, already closing the distance. “You really couldn’t wait until after class?”

“You answered pretty fast for someone who didn’t want it,” I said, voice low. My hands found her waist under the sweater vest, fingers sliding over the soft fabric. “Missed you this morning.”

She huffed a quiet laugh and kissed me, quick and hungry. The bow tie brushed my chin. I backed her toward the nearest stall, the bigger one at the end, and pulled her inside with me. The door shut. Latch clicked. Suddenly the space felt tiny and too loud at the same time—every little sound echoing off the tiles.

“Condom?” she asked against my mouth, already working at my belt.

I froze for half a second, then cursed under my breath. “Forgot. Meant to stop by the store last night.”

Karina pulled back just enough to look at me, dark eyes searching. Then she shrugged, that same soft smile returning. “Okay. Just… pull out. Or don’t. Your call.” Her hands kept moving, tugging my zipper down. “I want you anyway.”

That did it. I kissed her harder, one hand sliding up under the short plaid skirt. She wasn’t wearing anything underneath. Warm, already a little wet when my fingers brushed between her legs. She made a small sound into my mouth and pushed closer.

“Quiet,” I murmured. “Someone could walk in any second.”

“Then stop talking and touch me properly.”

I dropped to my knees on the cold floor, pushed the skirt up around her hips, and buried my face between her thighs. She tasted like she always did—sweet and a little sharp, the kind of thing that made my head spin. My tongue dragged slow over her, then faster, licking into her while my hands held her open. Karina’s fingers tangled in my hair, pulling just enough to sting. She was trying so hard to stay quiet. Little bitten-off gasps, the softest whimpers when I sucked on her clit.

“Jihoon—fuck—”

I didn’t stop. Kept eating her out like we had all the time in the world instead of maybe five minutes before someone tried the door. Her thighs started shaking. I slipped two fingers inside her, curling them while my tongue worked, and she came with a broken little cry she immediately muffled against her own hand. Her hips jerked against my mouth. I stayed there through it, licking her through the aftershocks until she tugged my hair harder.

“Up. Now.”

I stood. She was already dropping to her knees in front of me, plaid skirt still hiked, sweater vest a little crooked. She pulled my cock out, warm fingers wrapping around the base, and looked up at me with those big eyes.

“Missed this too,” she said, voice soft, and then her mouth was on me.

Hot. Wet. She took me deep on the first try, the way she always did when she was impatient. I braced one hand on the stall wall, the other resting lightly on the back of her head. She didn’t need guidance. She just worked me with that perfect mix of tongue and suction, cheeks hollowed, making soft wet sounds that felt way too loud in the quiet restroom. Every now and then she’d pull off just enough to lick the head, then take me back down.

“Karina—baby—”

She hummed around me and the vibration nearly made my knees give out. I watched her, the way her long hair fell forward, the little crease between her brows when she focused. Best friend. The girl who sat next to me in lectures and stole fries off my tray and now had my cock halfway down her throat in a school bathroom during lunch.

She pulled off with a soft pop, spit-slick lips shiny, and wrapped both hands around me instead. Stroked slow and tight while she looked up.

“Want my tits?”

I nodded, already reaching for the buttons of her white shirt. She helped, pushing the sweater vest up and the shirt open enough that her bra came into view. Soft, full, the kind of chest that always made me lose track of conversations when she leaned over my desk. She freed them, pressed them together around my cock, and started moving. The heat of her skin, the way she squeezed them tighter and let the head of my cock peek out between them on every upward stroke—fuck. I thrust a little, careful, watching the way she watched me.

“Like that?” she whispered.

“Yeah. Just like that.”

She kept going, occasionally leaning down to lick the tip when it appeared. The dual sensation was almost too much. I could feel the edge creeping up fast. Too fast. I pulled back before I could finish, breathing hard.

“Turn around.”

She stood, turned, hands bracing on the wall above the toilet. I pushed the skirt up again, lined up, and slid into her in one slow push. No condom. Just the tight, wet heat of her around me. We both exhaled at the same time. I started moving, short and deep, trying to keep the sound of skin on skin as quiet as possible. Her soft little moans still slipped out every time I bottomed out.

“Quiet, baby,” I murmured against the back of her neck. “You’re being loud.”

“Can’t help it. Feels too good.”

I reached around, found her clit again, rubbed slow circles while I fucked her. She pushed back to meet every thrust. The stall door rattled once when I went a little too hard. We both froze. Footsteps outside? No. Just the building settling. Still, my heart was hammering.

I pulled out, sat down on the closed toilet seat, and tugged her with me. “Come here. Ride me.”

Karina straddled my lap facing me, skirt bunched around her waist, and sank down onto my cock with a shaky breath. The angle was deeper like this. She started moving, slow rolls of her hips at first, then faster when she found a rhythm. Her hands gripped my shoulders. Mine stayed on her waist, helping her lift and drop. Every time she came down it forced a quiet sound out of both of us.

“Jihoon—”

“I know. Keep going.”

She leaned in and kissed me, messy and open-mouthed, trying to swallow the noises. The sweater vest was half-rucked up between us. Her breasts brushed my chest with every movement. I could feel her getting close again—the way she tightened around me, the way her thighs started to tremble.

Someone tried the main restroom door.

We both went completely still. Karina’s eyes were huge. The handle jiggled once, twice. Then footsteps moved away. Whoever it was must’ve decided it was locked for a reason and left. My pulse was in my throat. Karina let out a tiny, breathless laugh against my mouth.

“Almost,” she whispered.

“Almost,” I agreed, and thrust up into her hard enough to make her gasp.

She started riding me again, faster now, chasing it. I kept one hand on her hip and the other between us, rubbing her clit in tight circles. She came with her face buried in my neck, body shaking, walls clenching around me so hard I had to bite the inside of my cheek to stay quiet. I held her through it, still moving in small shallow thrusts, until she went soft and pliant in my lap.

I wasn’t done. I lifted her off me carefully, stood, and turned her to face the wall again. Pushed back into her from behind, one hand braced beside her head, the other holding her hip. This time I didn’t hold back as much. Harder, deeper, the wet sound of it filling the small stall. She reached back and gripped my thigh, nails digging in.

“Gonna come,” I warned, voice rough.

“Mouth. Please.”

I pulled out, spun her around, and she dropped to her knees again without needing to be asked. Opened her mouth. I stroked myself twice and came across her tongue, thick pulses that she swallowed without looking away. A little spilled over her bottom lip. She licked it up, then leaned in and cleaned the rest of me with slow, careful swipes of her tongue until I was twitching from oversensitivity.

We stayed like that for a few seconds, just breathing. Then she stood, fixed her bra and shirt and sweater vest with practiced hands, smoothed the plaid skirt back down. I tucked myself away and fixed my pants. Her hair was a little messier than before. The sunglasses still sat crooked on top of her head. She looked thoroughly fucked and trying very hard not to look like it.

“Lunch isn’t over yet,” she said quietly, checking her reflection in the small mirror above the sink once we left the stall. “We should go back.”

“Yeah.”

She stepped in close one more time, kissed the corner of my mouth, soft this time. “Next time bring a condom, idiot.”

“Next time,” I promised.

We left separately. I went first, washed my hands like nothing had happened, and walked back to the cafeteria. The table was still full. Someone asked where I’d been. I shrugged and said the line was long. Karina showed up a couple minutes later, sat down across from me again, and stole a piece of fruit off my abandoned tray like she always did. Her foot found mine under the table and stayed there.

Best friend. Classmate. The girl who let me fuck her in a locked restroom during lunch and then went right back to laughing with the others like her thighs weren’t still a little shaky under that short plaid skirt.

I texted her under the table while the conversation around us continued.

Jihoon:

Dessert was good.

Her reply came a second later.

Karina:

Starving again already. After last class?

I smiled at my phone and typed back.

Jihoon:

Yeah. My place. I’ll remember the condom this time.

I cupped her face and kissed her properly. Slow at first, tasting the cherry balm she always wore on stage, then deeper when she opened for me. Her hands found the hem of my shirt and slid underneath, palms flat against my stomach. The apartment was quiet except for the low hum of the air conditioner and the distant traffic far below. Perfect.

I walked her backward toward the bedroom without breaking the kiss. She laughed once against my mouth when the backs of her knees hit the mattress, the sound light and private. I tugged the jacket off her shoulders, then the thin top underneath. Her bra was black lace, already slightly damp between her breasts from the long night. I unhooked it and let it fall. Wonyoung’s nipples were already tight. I cupped both soft mounds, thumbs brushing the peaks, and watched her eyelids flutter.

“Daddy,” she whispered, the word small and practiced. It still sent heat straight down my spine every time.

“Yeah, baby?” I leaned down and took one nipple into my mouth, sucking gently, then harder when her fingers threaded into my hair. She arched into me. I switched to the other side, teeth grazing just enough to make her gasp. My hand slid down the flat plane of her stomach and into her pants. No panties. Just smooth, warm skin and the slick heat between her legs. She was already wet. I dragged two fingers through her folds and circled her clit slowly.

“Fuck, you’re soaked.” I kissed the corner of her mouth. “Been thinking about this all night?”

She nodded, cheeks pink. “During the last song. Couldn’t stop.”

I pushed her pants the rest of the way down. She stepped out of them and climbed onto the bed on her knees, looking back at me over her shoulder. Long dark hair spilled down her back. I stripped quickly—shirt, sweats, everything—and joined her. My cock was already hard, heavy against my stomach. Wonyoung reached back and wrapped her fingers around it, giving a slow stroke that made my breath catch.

“Want me to take care of you first?” she asked, voice soft.

“No. You first. Always you first.”

I laid her on her back and settled between her thighs. The first long lick from entrance to clit made her hips twitch. She tasted clean and sweet, a little salty from the stage. I flattened my tongue and dragged it over her again, slower, then focused on her clit—soft circles, then firmer suction. Two fingers slid inside easily. She was tight and hot, walls already fluttering. I curled them upward the way she liked and kept licking.

Wonyoung’s hands fisted in the sheets. “Wonwoo—Daddy—right there—”

I hummed against her and kept the same rhythm. Her thighs started to tremble around my head. I sucked harder on her clit and pumped my fingers deeper. She came with a sharp cry, back arching off the mattress, a sudden rush of fluid spilling over my tongue and chin. I stayed with her through it, licking softer until the shaking eased. Then I did it again—slower this time, building her back up until a second orgasm hit even harder. She squirted in short, powerful pulses that soaked the sheets beneath us. Her voice broke on my name.

I crawled up her body and kissed her, letting her taste herself. She moaned into it, hands sliding down to wrap around my cock again. This time I let her. She stroked me slowly, thumb spreading the precum at the tip, while I kissed along her jaw and down her throat.

“My turn?” she whispered.

I nodded and rolled onto my back. Wonyoung moved between my legs without hesitation. She licked a long stripe up the underside of my cock, then took the head into her mouth. Warm, wet heat closed around me. She bobbed slowly at first, tongue swirling, then deeper until I felt the back of her throat. One hand stroked what her mouth couldn’t take; the other cupped my balls gently. I brushed her hair back so I could watch—those familiar eyes looking up at me while her lips stretched around my shaft.

“Fuck, baby. Your mouth feels so good.”

She hummed and took me deeper. The wet sounds filled the quiet room. I let her work for a few minutes, hips twitching up into her throat, before I gently pulled her off. A thin string of spit connected her bottom lip to the tip of my cock. She wiped it with the back of her hand and smiled, soft and a little shy even after everything we’d done.

“Want you inside,” she said.

I sat up, pulled her into my lap so she straddled me, and guided myself to her entrance. She sank down slowly, taking every inch until I was buried to the hilt. We both exhaled at the same time. She was still so tight and wet from earlier. I held her hips and let her adjust, kissing her collarbone, the soft underside of her jaw.

“Move whenever you’re ready,” I murmured.

She started rolling her hips in slow circles. I met her with shallow thrusts, hands sliding up her back to hold her close. The position let me feel everything—the way her walls gripped me, the soft bounce of her tits against my chest, the quiet little sounds she made every time I bottomed out. I reached between us and rubbed her clit with my thumb in tight circles. Her rhythm stuttered.

“Daddy— I’m gonna—”

“Come for me. I’ve got you.”

She came again, forehead pressed to my shoulder, body shaking as her pussy clenched around me in rhythmic pulses. I kept thrusting through it, slower now, until the aftershocks faded. Then I tipped her onto her back without pulling out and settled between her thighs. Deeper angle. I hooked one of her legs over my arm and started fucking her properly—steady, deep strokes that made the headboard tap lightly against the wall.

Wonyoung’s hands gripped my shoulders. “Harder. Please.”

I gave it to her. The wet slap of skin, the soft broken moans she tried to keep quiet, the way her eyes stayed locked on mine—everything felt sharper after weeks of only seeing each other through screens and hurried backstage kisses. I leaned down and kissed her while I thrust, swallowing the sounds she made.

When I felt myself getting close I pulled out, flipped her onto her hands and knees, and slid back in from behind. One hand on her hip, the other reaching around to rub her clit. She pushed back to meet every stroke. The new angle made her even louder. I watched the way her ass moved, the way my cock disappeared into her over and over, shiny with her wetness.

“Gonna fill you up,” I told her, voice rough. “Want it?”

“Yes— Daddy, yes— inside—”

I buried myself deep and came hard, pulsing thick ropes straight into her. She clenched around me through it, moaning my name. I stayed there for a long moment, forehead pressed between her shoulder blades, breathing hard. When I finally pulled out a slow trickle of white followed, sliding down her inner thigh. I gathered some on my fingers and brought it to her mouth. She licked them clean without being asked, eyes half-lidded.

We didn’t stop.

I lay back and pulled her on top again. She rode me slow this time, hands braced on my chest, hair falling around her face. I watched every movement—the way her stomach flexed, the soft bounce of her tits, the wet shine of where we were joined. When she got tired I took over, hands on her hips, thrusting up into her until she came a fourth time, quieter but longer, body folding forward against me.

Later I had her on her side, one leg hooked over my hip, fucking her slow and deep while I kissed the back of her neck and whispered every filthy soft thing I could think of. She came again with my fingers on her clit, squirting in weaker pulses that soaked both of us. I followed soon after, filling her a second time.

We cleaned up in the shower together—lazy soaping, more kissing, my hands roaming over every inch of her under the warm water. Back in bed she curled against my chest, one leg thrown over mine, fingers tracing idle patterns on my skin.

“Three whole days,” she murmured, already half-asleep. “No schedules. No one knowing.”

I kissed her forehead. “Just us.”

She hummed, content. Outside the city kept moving, but inside the apartment everything was quiet and warm and ours. I held her tighter and closed my eyes, already planning how many more times I could make her come before morning.

She shook her head, scooting closer until her bump pressed against my side. “No… well, yes, but that’s not it. I’m hungry.”

I smiled sleepily and pulled her closer, kissing her forehead. “There’s fruit on the counter and some yogurt in the fridge. I can get it for you.”

Irene pouted. That full, dramatic pout she had perfected over the years. “Not that kind of hungry. I want something specific.”

I already knew where this was going. Her cravings had been getting more creative — and chaotic — as the pregnancy progressed. Last week it was kimchi jjigae at 3 AM. The week before that, it was peanut butter on rice cakes with pickles. I braced myself.

“What do you want, love?”

She bit her lip, looking almost guilty for a second before the demand came out. “Samgyeopsal. And those spicy tteokbokki chips. And… ice cream. The mint chocolate one. But not just any the one from that convenience store two blocks away because the supermarket kind tastes weird now.”

I stared at her in the dark. “Irene… it’s two in the morning.”

She sat up slowly, one hand supporting her lower back the way the doctor taught her. Her expression shifted from cute to dramatically tragic in record time. “I know what time it is! But the baby wants it. I can feel it. He’s kicking like he’s protesting right now because his dad won’t get his mom the food she needs.”

The baby wasn’t even kicking that hard. I could tell from the way her belly moved. But Irene had entered full bratty pregnant wife mode.

“Baby, we have snacks in the pantry,” I tried reasoning. “Can’t it wait until morning? I’ll make you a big breakfast with all your favorites. Promise.”

Her eyes widened like I had suggested something horrible. She gasped dramatically, hand flying to her chest. “Tomorrow morning? You want me to suffer until morning? With your child kicking my ribs because he’s craving samgyeopsal? I’m carrying him for nine months and you can’t even go get me snacks?”

She was really laying it on thick now, scooting away from me on the bed and crossing her arms over her bump. The bratty side was in full swing.

“Irene…” I said, trying not to laugh because I knew it would make it worse.

“No, it’s fine,” she continued, voice dripping with theatrical sadness. “I’ll just sit here hungry and uncomfortable while you sleep peacefully. Don’t mind me. I’m only growing a whole human inside me.”

I sat up, rubbing my face. She was impossible when she got like this, but I loved her for it. The way her lower lip jutted out, the little huffs she made, how she rubbed her belly like she was comforting our son from his mean father. It was equal parts adorable and exhausting.

“Fine,” I sighed, swinging my legs out of bed. “I’ll go. But you’re staying here.”

Her face lit up instantly, the drama disappearing like it had never existed. “Really? You’re the best husband ever.” She leaned over and kissed my cheek, then my lips, then my cheek again. “But… can you bring me back here so I can eat while you watch? I like eating in front of you. It makes the food taste better.”

I raised an eyebrow. “You want me to watch you eat at 2 AM?”

“Yes,” she said, nodding seriously. “It’s part of the craving. I need moral support. And maybe you can rub my feet while I eat.”

I couldn’t help but laugh as I pulled on a hoodie and sweats. “You’re really something, Bae Joohyun.”

She grinned, looking far too pleased with herself. “That’s why you married me.”

I made the quick run to the 24-hour convenience store, grabbing everything on her list plus some extra fruits and her favorite yogurt just in case. When I got back, Irene had propped herself up against a mountain of pillows, looking like a queen waiting for her feast. The bedside lamp was on, casting a warm glow over the room.

I set everything out on a tray and climbed back into bed beside her. She immediately grabbed the samgyeopsal package, tearing it open with surprising speed for someone who claimed to be exhausted earlier.

For the next twenty minutes, I sat there rubbing her swollen feet while she happily ate. She made little satisfied sounds with every bite, occasionally holding a piece up to my mouth so I could share. The spicy chips came next, followed by big spoonfuls of mint chocolate ice cream.

“You know this combination is weird, right?” I teased, watching her dip a chip into the ice cream.

Irene shrugged, licking her spoon. “The baby likes it. And I like it. Therefore it’s perfect.” She suddenly gasped. “Oh! The baby is kicking a lot now. Feel.”

She grabbed my hand and placed it on her belly. Sure enough, there were strong little thumps. I smiled, leaning down to kiss her bump.

“Hey, little guy. Let your mom eat in peace, okay?”

Irene watched me with soft eyes, the bratty energy from earlier completely gone. She fed me another spoonful of ice cream, then leaned her head on my shoulder.

“Thank you for getting up,” she said quietly. “I know I’m dramatic sometimes. But these cravings hit so hard and I feel like I’m going crazy if I don’t eat exactly what I want.”

I wrapped an arm around her, pulling her as close as her belly would allow. “I don’t mind. Really. I love taking care of you. Both of you.”

She hummed happily, finishing the last of the ice cream before setting the empty container aside. “You’re going to be such a good dad. I already know it.”

We stayed like that for a while, her eating the last few chips while I rubbed her back. The dramatic demands had turned into soft cuddles and quiet conversation about baby names, nursery colors, and how her members kept sending her baby clothes.

Eventually, her energy started fading. She yawned widely, rubbing her eyes. “I think I can sleep now. The baby is satisfied.”

I cleaned up the wrappers and helped her lie down comfortably, adjusting the pregnancy pillow behind her back. She reached for my hand once I was back in bed, interlacing our fingers.

“Stay close,” she murmured, already half asleep. “I might have another craving in an hour.”

I chuckled softly and kissed her temple. “I’ll be right here. Always.”

As her breathing evened out and she drifted off with a content little smile, I lay there watching her. Eight months pregnant, dramatic, bratty when the cravings hit, but still the most beautiful and loving woman I had ever known. These midnight adventures were tiring, but I wouldn’t trade them for anything.

Yuna’s voice cut through the music. I paused mid-step, heart still jumping with the bass, and turned.

She stood in the doorway wearing one of my old black hoodies and nothing else that I could see from the waist down. The hem hit the tops of her thighs. Long black hair a little messy from the pillow, cheeks still soft with sleep. She blinked at me like she’d just woken up and the world hadn’t fully loaded yet.

“I want to eat something,” she said, voice low and a little rough.

That was all I needed.

“Yeah? Okay. Stay right there. Don’t move.” I was already grabbing my keys off the counter, shoving my feet into the nearest pair of slides. “GS25 is two minutes. I’ll get the honey butter chips and that peach drink you like. Anything else? Just nod if you’re starving.”

She opened her mouth. I was already halfway out the door.

“Be right back!”

The night air hit cooler than I expected. Streetlights painted the sidewalk yellow. I jogged the whole way, bag bouncing against my thigh, replaying the way she’d looked leaning on the doorframe. Established relationship or not, Yuna still managed to scramble my brain on a regular basis. One sleepy sentence and I was sprinting for convenience-store snacks like the world would end if she got hangry.

I loaded up: two bags of honey butter chips, the peach yogurt drink, a banana milk just in case, and a pack of those soft chocolate-filled cookies she pretended not to like but always finished. The ajumma at the counter gave me the usual look—young guy buying late-night snacks, nothing new. I paid and ran back.

By the time I unlocked the apartment door I was out of breath and grinning.

“Got everything—”

Yuna was still standing in the living room. Music off now. Arms crossed under her chest, one eyebrow raised in that quiet way that usually meant I was about to get roasted.

I held up the plastic bag like an offering. “Honey butter. Peach. Cookies. You’re welcome.”

She stared at the bag. Then at me. Then she exhaled through her nose, the smallest almost-laugh.

“Seojin.”

“Yeah?”

“I said I want to eat something.”

“I know. That’s why I—”

“Not food.”

The bag lowered an inch.

She stepped closer, bare feet silent on the wood. The hoodie shifted with the movement and I caught the briefest flash of the soft curve of her hip. No shorts. No underwear line. Just skin and the loose black fabric that suddenly felt like a personal attack.

“I came out here,” she said, voice still low, “because I woke up wanting you. I was going to say I want to eat you. Or sit on your face. Or just get fucked until I stop thinking about that stupid dance video you keep practicing. But you heard ‘eat’ and vanished before I could finish the sentence.”

Silence stretched. The fridge hummed. Somewhere outside a scooter passed.

I set the bag down very carefully on the counter.

“…Oh.”

Yuna’s mouth twitched. “Yeah. Oh.”

I dragged a hand through my hair, half-embarrassed, half already hard. “In my defense, you looked hungry.”

“I am hungry.” She closed the last bit of distance and hooked two fingers into the waistband of my sweatpants. “Just not for chips.”

That was all the warning I got before she dropped to her knees.

My back hit the edge of the counter. Yuna tugged the sweatpants and boxers down in one smooth pull, and the cool air of the apartment kissed my cock a second before her hand did. She wrapped her fingers around the base and looked up at me through her lashes—half amused, half already focused.

“Next time,” she murmured, “let me finish talking.”

Then she licked a slow stripe from base to tip and took me into her mouth.

The sound I made was embarrassing. Soft and punched-out. Yuna hummed around me like she approved, the vibration traveling straight up my spine. She didn’t tease for long. She never did when she was actually hungry. Wet heat closed over the head, then more, until her nose almost brushed my stomach and her throat fluttered. One hand stayed wrapped around what she couldn’t take; the other braced on my thigh for balance.

I threaded my fingers into her hair without pulling, just holding. The sight of her like that—my hoodie sliding off one shoulder, lips stretched around me, eyes flicking up every few seconds to check my face—nearly ended me early.

She pulled off with a soft, wet sound and replaced her mouth with her hand, stroking slow and tight.

“You ran out of here like the place was on fire,” she said, voice a little wrecked already. “Didn’t even put on real shoes.”

“You said you wanted to eat,” I managed. “I panicked.”

“Cute.” She kissed the tip, then sucked it back in, cheeks hollowing. Her tongue worked the underside in that specific way she knew scrambled every coherent thought I had left. Spit slicked her fingers. The wet sounds filled the quiet apartment and mixed with my uneven breathing.

I lasted maybe three more minutes before I had to tug gently at her hair.

“Bed,” I rasped. “Or I’m finishing right here and you’ll be annoyed.”

Yuna let me go with one last slow lick and stood up, lips shiny. She wiped the corner of her mouth with the back of her hand and smirked.

“Race you.”

She turned and walked toward the bedroom like she hadn’t just had my cock down her throat. The hoodie swayed with every step. I kicked the sweatpants the rest of the way off, abandoned the convenience-store bag, and followed.

By the time I reached the bed she’d already peeled the hoodie off and tossed it somewhere. Naked in the low light from the hallway, all long lines and soft shadows. She climbed onto the mattress on her hands and knees, looked back over her shoulder, and arched her back just enough to be deliberate.

I didn’t need a second invitation.

I crawled up behind her, hands sliding over the warm skin of her hips, thumbs pressing into the dimples at the base of her spine. She was already wet when I reached between her legs—slick and ready, like she’d been thinking about this longer than just the few minutes since she woke up. I dragged two fingers through her folds, slow, collecting the wetness, then pushed them inside. Yuna dropped her head forward and made a soft sound into the sheets.

“Still hungry?” I asked, curling my fingers just to hear her breath hitch.

“Shut up and fuck me.”

I replaced my fingers with my cock in one smooth push. The tight heat of her pulled a groan out of both of us. I stayed still for a second, buried deep, forehead resting between her shoulder blades, just feeling her pulse around me. Then I started moving—slow at first, deep strokes that let me feel every inch, then harder when she pushed back to meet me.

The bedframe creaked. Yuna’s fingers twisted in the sheets. Every time I bottomed out she made this soft, punched-out little noise that drove me insane. I reached around and found her clit, rubbing tight circles while I fucked her, and her thighs started to shake.

“There—don’t stop—”

I didn’t. I kept the angle, kept the pressure, until she came with a broken sound and her whole body clenched around me. I fucked her through it, slower now, until the aftershocks faded and she went a little boneless under my hands.

I pulled out carefully. She made a small protesting noise.

“Turn over,” I said.

She rolled onto her back without argument, hair fanned across the pillow, cheeks flushed, lips still shiny. I settled between her thighs and slid back in, slower this time, watching her face. Her legs wrapped around my waist. One of her hands came up to cup the back of my neck, pulling me down until our mouths met—messy, open, tasting like the faint mint of her toothpaste and the salt of earlier.

We moved together like that for a long time. Not rushed. Just deep and steady, the kind of rhythm that builds instead of races. Every time I dragged almost all the way out and pushed back in she exhaled against my mouth. I could feel her getting close again in the way her nails bit lightly into my shoulders and her hips started rolling up to meet every thrust.

I kissed her harder and gave her what she asked for. A few more deep strokes and I came with my face buried in her neck, cock pulsing as I filled her. The wet heat of it made her gasp; she clenched around me like she was trying to keep every drop.

“Inside,” she whispered. “Want it inside.”

We stayed locked together while our breathing slowed. My arms were shaking a little. Hers were looped loosely around my back. Eventually I eased out and rolled to the side, pulling her with me so she ended up half on my chest, one leg thrown over mine. The mess between her thighs was already starting to leak onto the sheets. Neither of us cared.

Yuna’s fingers traced idle patterns on my collarbone.

“Next time,” she said after a while, voice sleepy and satisfied, “when I say I want to eat something, ask for clarification before you sprint to GS25.”

I huffed a quiet laugh and pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “Noted. Although the snacks are still there if you get actually hungry later.”

“I might. After round two.”

I tipped her chin up so I could see her face. Soft smile. Eyes half-lidded. The same girl who could own a stage in front of thousands and still look like this in our bed—flushed and warm and mine.

“Round two already?”

She shrugged one shoulder, the picture of casual. “You bought cookies. We should work up an appetite.”

I rolled us carefully so she was under me again, elbows braced on either side of her head. She looked up at me with that quiet little smirk that always meant trouble in the best way.

“You’re going to kill me one day,” I said.

“But what a way to go.”

The apartment was quiet except for the low hum of the city outside the windows and the soft clink of ice melting in the glass Mijoo still held. The party had ended hours ago. Her friends had piled into taxis laughing and loud, leaving her alone in the living room with the leftover bottles and the heavy, restless heat that the pills and the alcohol had left burning under her skin. She had wanted someone rough that night. Someone who would not ask questions or be careful. No one at the party had matched the hunger that was still clawing at her.

She kicked off her heels and stripped out of the black zip-up hoodie, leaving only the tight black crop top that barely covered her breasts and the matching high-waisted leggings that clung to her hips and thighs. Her long brown hair fell loose around her shoulders as she dropped onto the couch, the glass forgotten on the table. Between her legs the ache was sharp and insistent. She slid one hand down the front of the leggings and pressed her fingers against her already soaked pussy, rubbing slowly while her other hand pushed the crop top up so she could pinch a nipple.

A low, wet sound came from the hallway. Max, her Great Dane, padded into the living room on heavy paws. He was massive even for his breed—broad chest, long powerful legs, the black-and-white spotted coat shining under the apartment lights. The red bandana around his neck was the only soft thing about him. His dark eyes fixed on her immediately. The thick pink length of his cock was already half out of its sheath, swinging heavily between his hind legs as he walked. He had been restless all evening, pacing and whining whenever she left the room. Now the scent of her open arousal hit him fully.

Mijoo’s hand stilled. She stared at the dog’s cock as it continued to drop and harden, the pointed tip glistening, the shaft thickening until it was longer and heavier than any man she had taken that night. The alcohol and the drugs made the decision feel simple. She wanted something nasty. Something that would not talk back or leave in the morning. Something that would just take.

“Come here,” she said, voice thick and slurred. “Come show me what you’ve got.”

Max crossed the room in three long strides and stopped between her spread knees. Mijoo sat forward on the edge of the couch and wrapped both hands around the warm, slick shaft. It was hot and heavy, the skin smooth and already leaking clear fluid. She stroked him slowly from the thick base to the tapered tip, watching the way the knot at the root began to swell under her fingers. Max’s hips jerked forward into her grip. A low, almost human groan rumbled in his chest.

She leaned down and dragged her tongue along the underside of the cock, tasting salt and musk. Then she opened her mouth and took the pointed head past her lips. The size forced her jaw wide. She could only manage a few inches before the thickness pressed against the back of her throat, but she worked what she could, sucking hard while her hands stroked the rest of the length that would never fit. Spit ran down the shaft and over her fingers. Max’s front paws planted on either side of her on the couch cushions as he began to thrust shallowly into her mouth, the instinctive fucking motion of a dog who had found something warm and wet.

Mijoo pulled off with a wet pop, strings of saliva connecting her lips to the glistening tip. She stood on unsteady legs, shoved the leggings and the thin black panties down in one motion, and kicked them aside. Completely bare from the waist down, she turned and dropped to her hands and knees on the thick living-room rug, ass raised high, knees spread. The crop top was still shoved up under her breasts.

“Mount me,” she ordered, the words rough. “Fuck your drunk owner like the horny bitch she is tonight.”

Max needed no further encouragement. He climbed over her in one smooth motion, heavy front paws landing on the rug beside her shoulders, the solid weight of his chest settling across her lower back. The long, slick cock dragged along the cleft of her ass, then lower, the pointed tip finding the soaked entrance of her pussy without help. He thrust once—hard and deep—and the entire length buried itself inside her in a single powerful stroke.

Mijoo’s cry was loud and broken. The stretch was immediate and brutal. He was thicker than she had expected, the pointed shape forcing her walls open as it drove all the way to the growing knot at the base. Her arms shook under the weight of him. Max began to fuck her with the short, rapid thrusts typical of a dog in heat, hips snapping forward again and again, the wet slap of his sheath against her ass filling the quiet apartment. Each thrust drove the thick shaft deep enough that she felt the pressure against her cervix.

“Fuck—yes—just like that,” she gasped, pushing back to meet every thrust. “Use me. I’m so fucking drunk and so fucking empty and you’re the only thing big enough to fill it. Breed your owner’s cunt like you own it.”

The knot at the base of his cock began to catch at her entrance with every outward pull. Mijoo reached back with one hand and spread her own cheeks wider, helping him. On the next hard thrust the swollen knot forced past her entrance with a thick, stretching pop and locked inside her. Max’s hips continued their rapid, shallow grinding even while tied, the pressure of the knot grinding against her walls. Hot, heavy pulses of cum began to flood her almost immediately—thick ropes that painted her insides in long, rhythmic jets. The volume was more than any human partner had ever given her. She felt it filling her, the heat spreading deep.

She came hard around the locked knot, cunt clenching and milking him while she moaned into the rug. Max kept pumping through her orgasm, the last of his load still spurting inside her. They stayed tied for several long minutes, the dog’s weight heavy across her back, his breathing loud above her ear. When the knot finally softened enough for him to pull free, a thick river of mixed cum followed the cock out of her and ran down her inner thighs onto the rug.

Mijoo did not give him time to recover. She rolled onto her back, still panting, and pulled the dog’s head down between her spread legs. Max’s broad tongue cleaned the mess from her folds in long, thorough strokes, the rough texture making her hips jerk. When she was somewhat cleaner she pushed him back, then rose onto her knees and guided his still-hard cock toward her face again. She took him into her mouth once more, tasting her own cum mixed with his, and sucked greedily while her hands stroked the thick shaft and the swelling knot.

After a few minutes she pulled off, turned around, and presented her ass this time. She reached back with both hands and spread her cheeks, showing him the tight, untouched entrance above her still-dripping pussy.

“Here,” she said, voice raw. “Take my ass too. I want every hole used tonight.”

Max mounted her again without hesitation. The pointed tip of his cock pressed against her tight anal ring. Mijoo pushed back and forced herself to relax as the thick head slowly stretched her open. The burn was sharp and deep. Inch by inch the long shaft forced its way into her ass until the knot once again pressed against the rim. Max began to thrust, the motion shorter and more urgent now that he was buried in the tighter channel. Mijoo’s arms gave out and she dropped to her elbows, forehead pressed to the rug, ass still elevated and fully claimed.

“Fuck my ass,” she moaned, the words half-slurred. “Ruin it. I’m just a drunk slut who couldn’t find a man rough enough so I let my own dog split me open. Look at me—taking dog cock in both holes like I was made for it.”

The knot forced its way past her rim on a particularly hard thrust and locked inside her ass. Max’s hips ground against her as the second heavy load of the night began to pump deep into her bowels. The pressure was intense, the heat of his seed filling her in thick, continuous pulses. Mijoo came again from the sheer fullness and the dirty knowledge of what was happening, her empty pussy clenching around nothing while her ass milked the locked knot.

When he finally pulled free, more cum leaked from her stretched hole and joined the mess already coating her thighs. She stayed on her knees for a long moment, breathing hard, then slowly turned and sat back on the rug. Max’s cock was still half-hard and glistening. She wrapped both hands around it again and stroked him slowly, watching the way the knot pulsed under her fingers.

“One more,” she whispered. “Give me one more in my cunt. I want to feel you leak out of me all night.”

She lay back on the rug, knees pulled up and spread wide, and guided the thick cock back to her pussy. Max mounted her from the front this time, his heavy body covering hers, front paws planted on either side of her shoulders. The long shaft sank into her cum-slick entrance with ease. He fucked her with the same rapid, instinctive rhythm, the wet sounds louder now that both of them were soaked. Mijoo wrapped her legs loosely around his flanks and held on, the crop top still shoved up under her breasts, her long hair spread across the rug.

She talked the entire time—filthy, drunken, unbroken dirty talk that mixed self-disgust with pure hunger. She told him how good it felt to be used by something that could not judge her. She told him she wanted his cum in every hole so she would still feel it when she woke up hungover and alone. She told him she was never going to look at him the same way again after tonight.

The third knot locked deep in her pussy and the final heavy load flooded her already full womb. Mijoo’s orgasm this time was slower and deeper, her body trembling under the weight of the Great Dane as he emptied the last of himself inside her. They stayed tied for a long time afterward, Max’s heavy head resting near her shoulder, his breathing gradually slowing. When the knot finally slipped free, a thick stream of white cum followed and pooled beneath her on the rug.

Mijoo lay there in the mess, legs still open, one hand resting lightly on her lower belly where the heat of his seed still sat heavy. The apartment was quiet again except for the soft sound of the dog settling beside her. The alcohol and the drugs were still warm in her blood, the ache between her legs deep and thoroughly satisfied. She reached out and stroked the soft fur of Max’s neck, fingers sliding under the red bandana.

SinB stood alone in the center of the vast, empty stage, the lights dimmed to a soft amber that cast long shadows across the polished wood. The concert had ended hours ago. The crew had gone home. The arena sat silent except for the faint hum of the ventilation system and the distant drip of a leaking pipe somewhere backstage. She had stayed behind on purpose.

Her black off-shoulder crop top clung to her small breasts, the thin straps digging into her shoulders. The matching cargo mini-skirt sat low on her hips, zippers and metal rings glinting under the lights. White fishnet stockings hugged her thighs and disappeared under the short hem. She looked exactly as she had during the final encore, except now her makeup was slightly smudged and her lips were parted with something that was not stage presence.

In her hands she held the small leather-bound book she had found months ago in an antique shop while touring. The pages were handwritten in a language she only half understood, but the diagrams and the ritual words had been clear enough. She had never used it before. Tonight the need had become too sharp.

She set the book on the stage floor, opened it to the marked page, and began to speak the words in a low, steady voice. The air grew colder. The lights flickered. A circle of black smoke rose from the wood around her feet, swirling higher until it formed a tall, dense column. Then the smoke collapsed inward with a wet, heavy sound.

What remained was not human.

He stood eight feet seven inches tall. Broad shoulders, thick arms that ended in four large hands instead of two. His skin was a deep slate-gray, marked with faint ridges like scales along his ribs and the outsides of his thighs. A long, powerful tail flicked behind him. His face was almost handsome in a brutal way—strong jaw, sharp cheekbones—but his eyes glowed a dull red and two thick, flexible tongues slid out past sharp teeth, tasting the air. Between his legs hung two massive cocks, already half-hard, each nearly nineteen inches of thick, veined flesh with flared heads that looked almost too wide. Four heavy balls hung beneath them in a tight sac. As he straightened fully, both shafts thickened and lengthened further, the heads flushing darker until they stood rigid at twenty-three inches, the weight of them pulling slightly downward.

SinB’s breath caught. Her thighs pressed together under the fishnets. The book had worked. She had summoned exactly what her body had been aching for.

The monster’s red eyes locked on her. One of his lower hands reached out and closed around her waist as easily as if she were a doll. He lifted her off the floor without effort. The other three hands moved at the same time—one cupping her ass through the short skirt, one sliding under the crop top to find a small (big)breast, the fourth wrapping around her throat just tight enough to feel the pulse racing there.

“You called,” he said, voice deep and rough, the words distorted by the two long tongues that kept sliding over his lips. “Little idol. Horny little human. You wanted this.”

SinB’s answer came out as a shaky moan. “Yes. Please. I need it.”

He carried her to the edge of the stage where the lights still cast a soft glow. One of his upper hands ripped the crop top open down the front; the thin fabric tore easily. Her breasts spilled free, nipples already tight. The cargo skirt followed—zippers yanked, metal rings snapping, the entire thing shredded and tossed aside. Only the fishnets remained, stretched across her hips and thighs. He did not remove them. Instead he tore a hole right between her legs with two thick fingers, the mesh giving way with a soft ripping sound.

One of the long tongues dragged down her stomach, then lower, pushing through the ruined fishnets to lap at her already wet cunt. The second tongue followed, thicker, hotter, sliding over her clit in slow, deliberate strokes. SinB’s head fell back. Her hands clutched at the thick wrist holding her throat. She was already shaking.

He lowered her just enough that both of those enormous cocks pressed against her. The upper shaft rubbed along her stomach, the lower one nudging between her thighs. Pre-cum leaked in thick strands, coating her skin and the remaining fishnets.

“Look at you,” he growled. “Tiny little body. Soft. Wet. You’re going to take both.”

He shifted his grip. Two hands spread her legs wide while the other two supported her weight completely. She was suspended in the air, her back against his hard chest, feet dangling. The lower cock found her entrance first. The thick head pressed against her pussy and began to push. SinB cried out as the stretch burned. Inch after inch forced its way inside, the flared ridge dragging against her walls. He did not stop until more than half of the twenty-three-inch length was buried in her, her belly visibly distended around the shape of him.

The second cock pressed higher, against her tighter hole. He spit—thick, hot saliva from both tongues—and worked the head against her ass until it began to open. Then he pushed. SinB’s scream echoed across the empty stage as both cocks sank deeper at the same time. Double penetration stretched her beyond anything she had imagined. The two shafts rubbed against each other through the thin wall inside her. Every slight movement made her see stars.

He started fucking her in long, powerful strokes. The hands holding her thighs kept her open while the ones around her waist and throat controlled the depth. He could lift her completely off both cocks and drop her back down in one smooth motion, forcing her to take every thick inch again and again. The wet sounds of her body accepting him filled the arena. Her fishnets tore further with each thrust. Her ruined top hung off one shoulder. Makeup ran down her cheeks.

One of the long tongues slid into her open mouth. She sucked on it automatically, tasting salt and something darker. The second tongue stayed between her legs, lashing her clit even as the cocks hammered her.

“Such a good little hole,” he rumbled against her ear. “Taking monster cock like you were made for it. Feel how deep I am? Feel both of them stretching that pretty cunt and ass?”

SinB could only moan around the tongue in her mouth. Her body was already overstimulated. The first orgasm hit hard—her pussy clenched so tight around the massive shaft that the monster growled in pleasure. Clear fluid squirted out around the base of his cock, soaking the stage floor and the remaining fishnets. He did not slow down. He fucked her through it, the dual thrusts never stopping, until a second climax tore through her almost immediately after. More squirting, harder this time, her thighs shaking violently in his grip.

He pulled both cocks free with a wet sound and turned her in the air. Now she faced him, legs wrapped loosely around his waist while four hands held her up. He shoved both shafts back into her at once—pussy and ass—and resumed the deep, punishing rhythm. Her small breasts bounced with every impact. Her black hair stuck to her sweaty face. The ruined outfit hung in scraps.

One hand moved to her throat again, tilting her head back so he could watch her face. “You’re going to take every drop,” he said. "Both holes. Full of me."

He fucked her harder. The stage lights caught the sheen of sweat and spit and her own fluids running down her legs. Another orgasm built fast—too fast. SinB’s eyes rolled. She came with a broken cry, squirting again, the force of it making wet streaks across his gray stomach and the thick bases of both cocks.

Still he did not stop. He carried her deeper onto the stage, never once setting her down. The four hands adjusted constantly—supporting her weight, spreading her wider, holding her still so he could drive both cocks as deep as her body would allow. He changed the angle, fucking upward so the upper cock pressed hard against the front wall of her pussy while the lower one dragged over every sensitive spot inside her ass. The dual stimulation was relentless.

“Dirty little idol,” he murmured, both tongues licking across her collarbone and up to her ear. “Summoning a monster because your human cocks weren’t enough. Look at you. Ruined. Stuffed. Squirming on two dicks that barely fit.”

SinB’s voice was raw. “Don’t stop—please—fill me—”

He obliged. The pace turned brutal. Wet, heavy slaps of his hips against her ass echoed. Her third and fourth orgasms blurred together; she lost count. Clear fluid kept spraying out around the cock buried in her pussy every time another climax hit. Her body had become one continuous wave of overstimulation. The fishnets were nothing but torn strips now. Her skirt was gone. The crop top was a shredded rag.

He shifted again—doggy style in the air. Two hands gripped her hips, the other two supporting her chest and holding her arms behind her back. Both cocks slammed into her from behind, the angle even deeper. SinB’s head hung forward, black hair swinging with every thrust. Drool ran from her open mouth. She could feel the four heavy balls swinging against her with each impact.

“Take it,” he snarled. “Both holes. Milk them.”

She did. Her pussy and ass clenched in helpless rhythm around the massive shafts. He growled low and long as the first load began. Thick, hot cum flooded her cunt in heavy pulses, so much that it immediately began to leak out around the base even while he was still buried to the hilt. The second cock followed seconds later, pumping an equal volume deep into her ass. The pressure was intense—her belly rounded slightly from the sheer amount. He kept thrusting through the orgasm, forcing more cum deeper, until both shafts finally slowed.

Even then he did not pull out. He stayed locked inside her, both cocks still hard, still filling her completely while the excess cum dripped down her thighs and onto the stage in thick white strands.

After a long moment he withdrew with a wet sound. Cum poured from both of her holes in heavy ropes, pooling on the wood beneath them. SinB hung limp in his four hands, trembling, fishnets destroyed, body marked with spit and her own fluids and the monster’s seed.

He was not finished.

He turned her again, this time sitting her on the edge of the stage while he stood between her spread legs. Both long tongues dragged over her used pussy and ass, cleaning some of the cum only to push more of it back inside with the tips. Then he lifted her once more—face to face—and sank both cocks into her again in one smooth motion. SinB’s cry was hoarse. Her body accepted the stretch more easily this time, already ruined and open, but the fullness still made her eyes water.

He fucked her standing, carrying her weight entirely, walking slowly across the empty stage while both shafts stayed buried. Every step forced them deeper. Her arms looped weakly around his neck. Her legs dangled. The dual penetration never stopped moving inside her.

“Still so tight,” he said against her mouth. One tongue slid between her lips again. “Still squeezing. You were made for this. For monster cock. For being carried and filled until you can’t think.”

SinB could only moan in agreement. Another climax rolled through her—softer this time but still strong enough to make her squirt weakly around the cock in her pussy. The fluid mixed with the cum already leaking from her.

He set her down on her back on the stage floor, knees pushed wide by two of his hands. The other two pinned her wrists above her head. He mounted her fully, both cocks sliding home again, and began a slower, deeper rhythm. Face to face. Eyes locked. The heavy weight of him pressed her into the wood. She could feel every ridge, every vein, every pulse of the two thick shafts as they dragged in and out of her stretched holes.

“Look at me while I ruin you,” he ordered.

She did. Her dark eyes stayed open even as another orgasm built and broke. Tears of overstimulation slipped down her temples. Cum and her own fluids made wet sounds with every thrust. He leaned down and both tongues licked the tears away before one of them pushed back into her mouth.

When he came the second time it was even heavier. Thick ropes flooded her pussy and ass simultaneously. He stayed buried, grinding in small circles, forcing every drop as deep as possible until her belly looked softly rounded again. Only then did he pull free. Cum gushed out of both holes in a steady stream, soaking the stage and what little remained of her fishnets.

He still wasn’t done.

He lifted her once more—spooning position in the air this time. Her back against his chest, one of his upper arms locked across her breasts, the lower ones spreading her thighs wide while the fourth hand guided both cocks back into her. He walked the length of the stage again, fucking her in that position with long, rolling thrusts. SinB’s head rested against his shoulder. Her voice was gone; only soft, broken sounds left her throat each time the flared heads dragged over her most sensitive spots.

“Good girl,” he murmured. “Taking everything. Letting a monster breed both holes on the stage where you sing for humans. Dirty. Perfect.”

She came again—weak, shuddering, a thin spray of fluid escaping around the shaft in her cunt. He followed soon after, the third load even thicker, the force of it making her whimper as her body was forced to accept more than it should.

Finally he slowed. He kept both cocks inside her while he carried her to the center of the stage and carefully lowered them both to the floor. SinB lay on her side, still impaled, still held by four large hands that stroked her hair and her trembling thighs. Cum continued to leak around the bases of the shafts with every small movement.

The monster’s two long tongues gently cleaned the tears and spit from her face. His red eyes watched her with something like satisfaction.

“You called,” he said again, quieter now. “And I answered. Next time you open that book, little idol… I’ll be waiting.”

The soft morning light filtered through the kitchen windows of the quiet suburban home as Kim Sohee stretched her arms overhead, the fabric of her tight navy athletic top pulling taut across her full breasts. She had chosen the outfit deliberately that morning—the long-sleeved crop with the high neck and the matching mini skirt that barely covered the black shorts underneath. It clung to every curve, the purple stripes along the sleeves and the orange accents making her feel athletic and exposed at the same time. Her short black hair framed her face as she bent forward to touch her toes, the motion lifting the hem of the skirt and presenting the firm roundness of her ass to the empty room.

Behind her, the golden retriever shifted on the cool tile. Max was a big, fully grown male, his thick golden coat shining under the light, heavy muscles shifting beneath the fur. He had been restless since the day her son brought him home, always following her from room to room, nose twitching whenever she moved. At first she had laughed it off as playfulness. The way he would press against her legs while she cooked, or rest his heavy head on her thigh while she sat on the couch. Then the mounting started.

It began with her calves. Whenever she stood still too long, Max would rise onto his hind legs, front paws finding purchase on her lower legs, hips thrusting in short, instinctive pumps against the fabric of her pants. She would push him down with a soft scold, cheeks warming, telling herself it was just a dog being a dog. But it kept happening. During her morning stretches in the living room, the moment she folded forward, he would be there, paws on her hips, the hard length of him rubbing along the cleft of her ass through her clothes. When she did yoga, dropping into downward dog, he mounted her without hesitation, the warm weight of his body blanketing her back, his cock sliding along the thin material covering her pussy.

She had started noticing the way his knot swelled when he got worked up, the thick base of his sheath pushing against her. The scent of his arousal mixed with her own growing heat. Sohee had always been a woman with a high sex drive, the kind who needed more than her husband could give on the nights he was home. Now, with her husband gone on a week-long work trip and her son away on a field trip with his class, the house was empty except for her and Max. The silence made everything louder.

She finished her stretch and straightened, glancing down at the dog. Max’s dark eyes were fixed on her, tongue lolling slightly, the tip of his pink cock already peeking from its sheath. Sohee’s pulse quickened. She walked slowly into the living room, hips swaying more than necessary, and dropped to her hands and knees on the thick rug in front of the couch. The athletic skirt rode up immediately, exposing the lower curves of her ass and the black shorts stretched tight over her mound.

“Come here, Max,” she said softly, voice already husky. “Come show Mommy what a good boy you are.”

The retriever approached without hesitation, nose first, sniffing deeply along the backs of her thighs. His wet muzzle pressed against the fabric covering her pussy, inhaling the scent of her growing wetness. Sohee shivered, pushing her hips back toward him. Max’s tongue came out, broad and rough, dragging over the thin material of the shorts. The heat of it soaked through almost instantly. She reached back with one hand and hooked her fingers under the waistband of the shorts and the skirt, dragging them down over her hips until they bunched at her knees. Her bare ass and glistening pussy were fully exposed to the cool air and the dog’s attention.

Max’s tongue found her immediately. He licked with long, thorough strokes, from the base of her slit up over her clit, then lower again to circle her entrance. The rough texture made her gasp. He was thorough, the way a dog is thorough, cleaning every fold, pushing his muzzle deeper as if determined to taste all of her. Sohee’s arms trembled as she held the position, spreading her knees wider on the rug.

“That’s it,” she whispered, the words thick with self-disgust and heat. “Lick your bad mommy’s cunt. I’m such a filthy wife, letting the family dog eat me out while my husband is away and my son is at school. What kind of mother does this?”

Max’s tongue pushed inside her, thick and insistent, lapping at the wet walls of her pussy. She moaned openly now, rocking back onto his muzzle. The dog’s front paws planted firmly on either side of her hips as he continued to feast, his breath hot against her skin. After long minutes of the relentless licking, Sohee felt the shift. Max rose fully onto his hind legs, the heavy weight of his chest settling over her lower back. The blunt, slick head of his cock prodded between her thighs, sliding along her soaked folds.

She reached back between her legs, fingers wrapping around the hot, tapered length of him. He was thick, the shaft already slick with his own pre, the tip pointed and ready. She guided him carefully, lining the head up with her entrance. The moment the tip caught, Max thrust forward with a single powerful drive of his hips. The dog’s cock sank deep into her pussy in one smooth push, stretching her walls wide around the increasing thickness.

Sohee cried out, the sound half pleasure and half shame. He was bigger than she had expected, the pointed tip reaching places her husband’s cock never quite hit, the shaft forcing her open as it buried itself to the growing knot at the base. Max began to thrust immediately, short, rapid pumps of his hips, the way dogs fuck—fast, instinctive, relentless. His front paws gripped her sides, claws lightly pricking her skin through the athletic top as he held her in place.

“Fuck—oh god, Max, you’re so deep,” she gasped, pushing back to meet each thrust. The wet slap of his hips against her ass filled the quiet house. “Your bad mommy’s taking the family dog’s cock like a whore. I’m a terrible wife. A terrible mother. Letting this happen… letting you breed me while everyone is gone.”

Max’s thrusts grew more urgent. His tongue hung out as he panted above her, the golden fur of his belly rubbing against the small of her back with every pump. Sohee’s pussy clenched around him, the stretch and the friction building heat low in her belly. She could feel the swelling of his knot beginning to catch at her entrance with every outward pull, the thick base of him demanding entry.

She reached back again, fingers spreading her own cheeks wider, helping him. “Come on, boy. Push it in. Knot your dirty mommy. Fill me up.”

Max gave a deeper, harder thrust, and the knot forced past her entrance with a sudden, stretching pop. Sohee’s moan turned into a broken cry as the thick bulb locked inside her, sealing them together. The dog’s hips continued their rapid, shallow thrusts even while knotted, grinding the swollen base against her inner walls. Hot pulses of his seed began to flood her almost immediately—thick, heavy spurts that painted her insides in long, rhythmic jets.

She came hard around him, pussy spasming and milking the knot as wave after wave of her own release soaked their joined bodies. Max kept pumping, the dog’s instincts driving him to empty every drop deep inside her. Sohee’s arms finally gave out and she dropped to her elbows, forehead pressed to the rug, ass still elevated and locked to the retriever. The athletic top had ridden up under her breasts, the orange straps and high neck still in place while her lower body remained completely exposed and claimed.

They stayed locked for long minutes, Max’s weight heavy on her back, his cock twitching inside her as the last of his cum continued to leak around the seal of the knot. Sohee’s breathing slowed, the self-loathing and the afterglow mixing into something darker and more addictive.

When the knot finally began to soften, Max pulled free with a wet sound, a thick rope of mixed cum following his cock and dripping down her inner thighs onto the rug. Sohee stayed on her knees for a moment longer, feeling the heat of his seed still deep inside her, then slowly pushed herself up. She turned to face the dog, who was already sniffing at the mess between her legs, tongue cleaning what he could reach.

She stroked his golden head, fingers sinking into the soft fur. “We’re not done, Max. Not while the house is empty.”

She led him upstairs to the master bedroom, the same room she shared with her husband. The large bed waited, sheets still neatly made. Sohee stripped the rest of the way—pulling the navy top over her head, the long sleeves sliding free, the sports bra beneath following until she stood completely naked except for the bunched athletic skirt and shorts still around one ankle. She kicked them free and climbed onto the bed on all fours again, presenting herself once more.

Max needed no further invitation. He mounted her from behind a second time, the tapered cock finding her cum-slick entrance with ease and driving home. This time Sohee reached under herself and rubbed her clit in tight circles while the dog fucked her hard and fast, the wet sounds of their coupling louder in the quiet bedroom. She talked to him the whole time, the words spilling out between moans.

“That’s it, breed your bad mommy again. Fill this cheating cunt. I’m the worst wife in the world, the worst mother, letting the family pet use me like a bitch in heat. My son’s dog is breeding me while he’s away at school. My husband’s side of the bed is empty and I’m taking dog cock in it.”

Max knotted her a second time, the thick base locking deep as another heavy load of cum flooded her already full pussy. Sohee came again, harder this time, the pressure of the knot and the knowledge of what she was doing pushing her over the edge. When he finally pulled free, she rolled onto her back, spreading her legs wide and guiding the retriever between them. She lifted her hips, helping him find the angle, and watched as the dog’s hips worked between her thighs, his cock plunging in and out of her swollen, dripping pussy.

She held his heavy body against her, legs wrapped loosely around his flanks, encouraging every thrust. “Good boy… deeper… cum inside Mommy one more time. Make sure it all stays in.”

Max’s final knot of the morning locked them together again, his weight pinning her to the mattress as he emptied the last of his seed deep into her womb. Sohee stroked his soft ears and the thick fur of his neck while they waited for the knot to subside, whispering the same filthy truths over and over—that she was a bad mom, a bad wife, a woman who had given herself completely to the family’s golden retriever.

When he finally slipped free, a thick river of cum followed, coating her thighs and the sheets beneath her. Sohee lay there breathing hard, one hand trailing down to press against her messy, well-fucked pussy, keeping as much of Max’s seed inside as she could. The dog settled beside her on the bed, heavy head resting on her stomach, already half-asleep after the long session.

The house remained quiet around them. Outside, the day continued as if nothing had changed. Inside, Sohee knew she would do it again before the afternoon was over—on the couch, in the kitchen, bent over the bathroom counter, wherever the urge and Max’s restless mounting took them. She was alone with the dog for days still, and the hunger that had been building since the first time he pressed against her legs was nowhere near satisfied.

She closed her eyes, fingers still resting between her legs, feeling the slow leak of his cum and the pleasant ache of being thoroughly used. A soft, shame-tinged smile curved her lips.

“Such a bad mommy,” she whispered to the empty room and the sleeping retriever. “And I’m going to keep being bad for you.”