J Muns

Three years and one week.

That’s approximately one thousand one hundred days. It’s too long, but no long enough for you to truly forget about it. It’s also too short, short to an extent that you feel like it was still yesterday.

Sol Yoona, or as everyone in your friend groups calls her, Sullyoon. She was your first love. The past tense is still a fresh scar on your heart for that ongoing timer to go on. Tomorrow it’ll be three years and eight days since you quitted smoking because you were in love, and your girl didn’t like that you smoked. It was rather unfortunate that the relationship ended not long after.

Of course, the good old excuse of “we can still be friends” seems to work quite nicely on you two, if you will. It wasn’t a messy ending to a messy affair, rather, a mutual understanding of parallel career paths after graduation.

And as we all know, parallel lines don’t intersect. You don’t need Real Analysis to prove that.

You and Sullyoon are in the intersection of many friend groups still, due to the amount of time you two glued together throughout the undergraduate era. Showing up at the same party? Polite and formal chatters. Hanging out individually? Never, for some obvious reasons.

It was just the fact that you never wanted it to happen in the first place, maybe.

Your “going to Seoul and stay there” plan was cut short right after you obtained your Masters - you couldn’t  master the overwhelming stress and the cutthroat competition to stay comfortable. So in the end of the day, you returned to where you’ve started.

It seems to be a bit too late though - that one party your friends set you up to welcome you home? But all you can remember was the fact that you saw a silver ring in Sullyoon’s middle finger.

You soon succumbed to the desire of having someone to love again, and it was when you fell into this trap. A trap that made you going back to nicotine for comfort.

This trap is your now girlfriend. The type that treats you more like a part of her property and a walking ATM machine instead of her lover. Well, you can argue that she showed up right when you needed someone to feel anchored again - and she apparently knew that - so you took the bait naturally. But hey, we aren’t getting too far out there.

Sometimes there needs no reasons to party at all, suddenly an invitation comes through, then a group of friends from college all pull up.

Tonight is those type of night.

You accept the invitation, knowing it is at least a useful coping mechanism to escape. Before you slide your feet into your sneakers, your habit reminds you to make a call.

“Why are you calling?” It is your girlfriend who picks up the phone impatiently, “I’m drinking with my besties, say what you need to say, quick.”

“Hey babe, I’m calling to make you aware that I’ll go to Karaoke with my college friends tonight at 9 o’clock. Only 2 females, all married. Don’t worry. The rest TEN of them are all my buddies.” You emphasize the buddy part, to try to please your girlfriend that apparently has too much to say about your own personal life.

“Obviously I’m not in town, so do it as you wish. Make sure to check your phone, I’ll be texting. Reply in a timely manner.” She dismisses your statement, as she probably took the train up to Seoul again to have some night life there with some of her so-called “influencer friends”.

“Ok, I will. Please take care of yourself, and drink less.” Your response emotionlessly, as these types of conversation had happened for too many times.

“Aw~ you know to take care of me too? I’m touched, really. By the way, do you see that hand cream I sent you? I’d be so happy if I can get it next week!” Why does she sound more excited in the second half of her response?

You can fluently understand that “social cue” between you two. “Oh, yeah, really? I can try look it up for ya. I know you really liked that designer brand; I’ll get it for you if it’s at a reasonable budget...” You stop before you finish as you hear some purring and sighing on the other end.

“Come on! Your pay day was just yesterday, wasn’t it? Don’t you love me?” Again. The classical guilt trip.

“I... I love you, definitely.” You stutter while shaking your head helplessly.

“Then don’t disappoint me, think about when I get back and you’ll too get your reward, isn’t it fair?” She laughs devilishly, instead of kindly asking for a gift, she makes it sound more like a threat.

“No problem, wait for a surprise when you next see me! Catch up with you soon!”

“Yay, oppa is the best man in the world!”

“Alright, take care ok? Bye bye.” Your patience runs low now as your bank account balance will do so soon. More than one of your good friends told you to leave this woman, and you were somewhat moved by them too.

You know what type of person she is. When she gets what she wants? She can be the sweetest girl in the world, and she gets devastatingly good at keeping you around her. With both of her sweet words and her... body.

Well, some might suggest that isn’t this a good deal? It might, if you can endure the surveillance and financial drain. It’s not rare at all for you to get a “quest” for designer items every other week, and it’s certainly a normalcy for her to know all your accounts’ password. So she knows you’re still “hers”, or rather... hers to use.

You know that, but you told your friends last week otherwise. “I see... sometimes she’s a bit... demanding. But I simply can’t let go of her, you know? Look at what happened to me when I broke up with Sullyoon.” You flipped on your lighter, hovering maybe the fourth cigarette during the meal with those two buddies of yours. “I re-smoked, I drank a lot when I was in Seoul. And no motivation to take care of myself, you feel me?”

“Then why did you break up with Sullyoon? Weren’t you two always like, sticking to each other? It was quite sudden, bro.” One of your friend’s chugged his Soju in the tiny glass, mumbling “thanks” as you lit his cigarette for him.

“Nah bro, it was more like a bad timing you know... we stayed in a good position until the very last day. Sullyoon and I just didn’t feel like long-distance, cuz all the Seoul thing. If I was more useful, I would’ve gotten a job there to stay. But well I guess I got defeated.” You inhaled, letting the warm smoke circulate in your systems. The nicotine brought you relief albeit also damage to your already exhausted organs.

“Why didn’t you ask her to start over again after you moved back here? Maybe she’s still into you, no? And you would’ve be having a better relationship than this one, brother. Sullyoon is really a kind person.” The other friend asked you while waving his hands as you offered him a cigarette.

“Bruh... didn’t you see that engagement ring on her finger? It had been like what, two months since y’all had that welcoming party for me? Even if I’m still liking her, it’s too late! But well don’t snitch to my current girlfriend otherwise I’m dead.” You let out a dry laugh.

“So you’re still into her! How unfortunate of a timing it was!”

“Nah, I didn’t say that! Don’t bring me into troubles!” You pushed your friend’s shoulders playfully.

Deeper in your brain somewhere, the image of your sweet history with Sullyoon was gradually fading. The pure image of two sweet lovebirds was getting stained by the toxic nicotine. You felt like you’d eventually let go of her like you once let go of nicotine. Perhaps.

———

It doesn’t take long for you to finish the replay of your memories in that metro ride. As the same two friends of yours are already waving you from the hallway right when you step into the Karaoke.

“Come on bro, we were waiting for you. The group is already singing!” One of them says.

“Brother, it is your chance tonight! Sullyoon is here too, and she doesn’t seem to be too happy for whatever reason. Take your shots, hahaha!” The other friend responses, but from the way he talks and sways his body? At least a bottle of Soju is down.

“Shut up bro, didn’t you see her engagement ring? It wasn’t like she broke up or something. Don’t cause troubles for him, his girlfriend is gonna murder him!” The first friend refutes, as you observe that his sanity is yet to be taken away by alcohol. But it’s just a matter of time before you both collapse.

“Yeah bro, don’t start things! We’re literally two taken people, we both have our other halves.” You laugh, while padding the drunken friend’s back.

———

Crossing the hallway with flashy neon lights and the air coated with alcohol, you soon walk into the lounge where the friend group is located.

People greet you cheerfully: some of them shouting your name out loud, some of them already singing melancholy songs for whatever reason, two of them are in the middle of a beer chugging contest.

And it comes to the person you’re most curious about. Even if you’re technically forbidden to feel so.

Sullyoon is sitting at the corner of the lounge quietly. She isn’t singing along to the guys who’re crying on the microphone. Maybe she drank, because you can see her cheeks are a bit read albeit the dim lighting in the room. And hell, the eye makeup cannot cover the hint of emptiness and exhaustion in her eyes.

She looks a bit... tired.

An intrusive thought invades your brain at this very moment. You stand across the room, hiding yourself amongst the loud crowd of friends. And your eyes scan lower and lower, until you hold your breath to check her hands - you sigh - her ring is still there.

Well, even it is not, what makes you think there’s any possibility for her to go back to you? Maybe she’s just too tired from work - you heard from the gossips that she does some designing for a big clothing manufacturer, that’s tough.

“Anyways... I’m here to drink a few beers and maybe sing. A few cigarettes on the way out and call it a night.” You tell yourself, as it is pretty much the only occasion you truly allow yourself to relax.

“Dang!” A crisp notification pops up on your phone. You know who it is before even taking it out from your pocket.

“Hey~ who are you with? Send pics.”

Of course it’s her.

You take a quick snippet of the Karaoke, avoiding putting the lonely Sullyoon in the frame.

“No need to worry, baby. See those two girls chatting? Their fiancé/bf are the two guys that are singing. Wonder if their relationships are healthy, cuz the men are crying. LOL”

There’s a grin on your face once you plant a sarcastic seed in your response. You swiftly point out the two girls other than Sullyoon, knowing for a fact that your girlfriend was checking on you to see if you’re flirting with other girls.

“What about the other half of the room? Are there no girls?”

“Nah, it’s just Yoonchul and Jihwan. You know them both. They’re alr drunk and fallen apart on the sofa, you wanna see them too?”

“No I’m good, text you later!”

You let out a long exhale, as Yoonchul and Jihwan aren’t even drinking. It is just necessary to borrow their names so your ex isn’t in the conversation.

But now you’re even more curious about Sullyoon. However, there is simply that weird, unspoken agreement between you two.

And there’s no difference tonight as it was for the last three years and one week. The discreet agreement is activated tonight.

Always sit across the long, U-shaped bench in the Karaoke. Or across each other if it’s in a restaurant. No conversations, polite nods, no unnecessary eye contacts. No sitting next to each other without at least three people in between.

These weren’t written rules, of course. They were instead, more like a mutual attempt to forget about the past and make the present less awkward and formal.

It’s just that you sometimes think, there’s no need for a broken man like your current self to be formal at all. Because there isn’t any form left.

You decide it is normal to check-in on your “regular friend” if she doesn’t seem to be too well.

“Hey Yoonchul, what’s up with Sullyoon tonight? Why is she not talking with anymore, and just sitting there? She’s not even like, drinking a lot.” You tap Yoonchul’s shoulder, and the latter turns around from enjoying his alcohol.

“Haha brother, how am I supposed to know?! Why don’t you ask her yourself? It’s not like you don’t know her or anything.” Yoonchul says.

“Could you ask her? I’m just curious hahaha...” you let out a few very fake dry laughs. “You know, just as a friend. Otherwise, I’ll be dead from my girlfriend.”

“Come on, I ain’t adding myself to the Death Notes if that’s the case.” Yoonchul shakes his head.

“Next two beers are on me.” You deadpan.

“Deal.” Yoonchul smirks as he approaches Sullyoon at the corner.

“This fucker...” you sigh, wondering how much of a big hit your wallet just took.

———

“Hey, Sullyoon? How’s it going for ya? Not in the mood today?” Yoonchul leans to the wall beside Sullyoon, the latter manages to give him a faint smile in return.

You hold your breath, trying as nonchalantly as possible to walk closer to them. You involuntarily cross the safe distance of 3 meters - another hidden agreement between you and your ex, but either way you can finally overhear the conversation.

“Not really, Yoonchul. You guys can have fun, I’m just a bit tired.” Sullyoon says, sipping her glass of champagne.

“Aw~ come on! Future bride! Tell us about your fiancé, we barely know anything about him! And when is the wedding?” At least Yoonchul is making your money worth it, he swiftly switched to the topic that you’re most curious about. The engagement ring. Despite you never should.

“Oh right, I haven’t talked about him much. But it’s not that big of a deal, really. Sales manager, always.... ‘Busy with clients’ stuff. And this?” Sullyoon surprisingly sighs, and she spins her ring with her thumb. “It is more like a placeholder, you know? Or a reminder that this relationship is actually still a thing.” You know for a FACT that something is wrong, from her habit when she felt stressed out back in college. She’d always spin her rings or bracelets non-stop.

“O...oh! I’m very sorry, I should’ve not asked. I... imma dip for now! Forgive my question! And please enjoy yourself.” Yoonchul scratches his hair.

“Don’t worry Yoonchul, you’re good. We’ve known each other for too long, so don’t feel bad about it! Plus, I’m not trying to hide anything here.” Sullyoon smiles, but a smile with no joy and full helplessness.

Yoonchul stumbles his way back to you, whispering in your ears like a devil. “Bro, cheating fiancé, absolute drama. Your fucking chance to take her back.”

“Man, just fuck off with your beers, politely. I heard it all, I said I’m not trying to hit on her or something.” You acquire the intel you wanted to know for whatever reason. Maybe she’s on the same boat as you.

“Nah, you can lie to me, but don’t lie to yourself.” Yoonchul sits back down before quickly orders two more beers on the touchscreen. “On you.”

———

You are still blended to the crowd, but the air in the Karaoke feels a tad thicker. “Busy with clients”? You hope it does not imply a cheating fiancé. Well maybe you’re just overthinking it. 

There is absolutely no reason at all to care about Sullyoon’s relationship status. Yet you still do. It is the part of the fading memories lingering in your brain.

A little more than five years ago, a casual late night library studying session took place. And you gathered enough of courage via the help of a lot of caffeine to turn your relationship with Sullyoon from close friends into boyfriend and girlfriend.

There weren’t any designers’ items needed, there wasn’t any process of submitting all of your social media account and passwords. Just a simple bouquet of flower secretly hidden beneath the desk, and a bag of her favorite chocolate. Well maybe a few of scripted sentences prepared months ago.

And Sullyoon’s face became a Peach, she wrapped her arms around your neck while kissing your forehead.

Life-changing experience was an understatement for the relationship. You’ve never felt like this motivated and energetic before in your life. And the fact that dating someone gave you more than a girlfriend.

It gave you a REASON.

It gave you a reason to get better as a person; to take care of yourself and always present your other half with the best version you’ve got.

It gave you a reason to quit. Sullyoon never said anything, but you observed how she always held her breath for a second or two as you kiss her. Then she’d take a short inhale and repeat. You thought she was being nervous, until a day where she casually dropped the fact that she didn’t find the smell of nicotine being pleasant at all.

And she alone is enough for you to battle through the almost undefeated addiction.

“Sorry Sullyoon, I never realized how you had to endure an unpleasant smell for this long. But I’ll quit for you.” You told her.

She said nothing, just resting her hands assuredly on top of yours.

For weeks after, she was by your side. She was your company when you battled through your darkest time.

And since that one day, three years and one week ago: you felt like your Golden Hour has begun. There’s no more Smoke Break needed for stressful academics, because you have Sullyoon in your world. As a girlfriend.

It was that impactful.

Your life felt more refreshing than before. Sullyoon’s blushing cheeks replaced the red flame from the lighter. And her warm embrace was just tiers above the hazy heat from cigarette smokers.

You thought it would last forever. You thought that you’d become her fiancé and spend the rest of your life with the loveliest and understanding woman you’ve met.

It turned out to be a bit short. Your grand scheme of going to Seoul for better opportunities came into conflict with her decision of getting into the workforce fresh out of college. You know it wasn’t a topic that could be solved by talking through it.

In the end of the day? You witnessed your only lifeline vanishes into the void. It wasn’t messy, it wasn’t even emotional. It was a simple farewell at the train station and a kiss goodbye.

“I hope you’d be someone’s dreams come true in Seoul. And best of luck for your Masters.” She squeezes a faint smile.

“And you definitely deserve someone better than me.” You pull Sullyoon close and kiss her for one last time.

“Thank you.”

“I love you.”

The train gate slides close later.

True lovers wish the best to each other, even if it means separation.

———

A wild buzzing in your pocket drags you best from the sweet yet bitter memory with Sullyoon. Maybe if Yoonchul knew all of these, he wouldn’t be surprised why you wanted to know if she’s doing ok.

You take your phone out of your pocket and get ready for another round of interrogation. Well, it cannot possibly be anyone else but her, because she turned off all of your other notifications.

“Hey baby! Everything doing ok? Had anyone joined y’all?” Your girlfriend texts, but she clearly means if there’re any GIRLS joined your party. From your experience.

“Nah, instead two people left cuz they’re drunk asf.” You don’t bother, simply mirror the previous picture and send it back to her - you’re at the boundary point of dealing with her endless surveillance - especially when Sullyoon just made you realize how colorful your life once was.

“Good. Talk to you later.”

You don’t reply.

Instead your hands going into your other pocket and reach for the pack of cigarettes.

And yes, you re-smoked not long ago. Following the two years of dreadful Masters in Seoul, the failure of getting into a PhD position became your final blow.

You didn’t have Sullyoon with you anymore, so nicotine became your friend again. You made the call to come back to your hometown, hoping for a job in a less competitive city. And you have to be honest that you also hoped if Sullyoon is still around.

She welcomed you back with a ring on her finger. And your current girlfriend knowingly showed up at the moment. A simple drink at the bar led to the night which your released of months of stress in her bed.

And you became hers to play with since then. She never told you what part of you that she liked, maybe it is the “Heart-broken from Seoul that works a decent job” part?

That felt wrong. You felt wrong. It was just that you never had the courage to end it all. You were afraid that if you break up, you’d end up being alone at the nights again. You were afraid that you’d again become anchor-less.

You couldn’t admit it was a mistake because you were mostly scared to the fact that Sullyoon is taken but you’re single.

You light up a cigarette in this Blue Hour, and for the first time at the night: your gaze locks on to Sullyoon’s.

She is still sitting in the end other half of the Karaoke, resting her chin on her palms. Sullyoon sees your fluid motion of using your lighter, you instinctively want to hide. She raises an eyebrow but there isn’t any bit of judgement in her exhausted eyes. Only a sense of knowing empathy.

You stare at her ring through the noisy crowd. She shakes her head gently with a faint smile. Sullyoon then raises an eyebrow back at you. You smirk, shaking your buzzing phone screen towards her, hoping she can see the endless message spam from the other side. She exhales, closing her eyes.

That’s all you two need to communicate.

The next hour flies by as you switch in between small talks with your college friends and listening to them singing one song after another. You talked about your life in Seoul; you talked about how it is so different compared to the quiet suburban town that you’re in right now and how you felt like a failure who returned to the starting line after two years of nothing. You asked them what they’re doing now for a living, complained to them how equally tormenting it is to sit through lectures and an office job.

But you did not talk about your relationship. Rather than being afraid that someone may snitch, it is more about the fact that you don’t want to. You want to run away. You don’t bring up something that you want to escape from. It’s simply getting unbearable.

Not long later, a waitress knocks the door and reminds you guys there’re only 15 minutes remaining. People start to pack up and get ready to go.

“Yo! Thanks for the beers, wanna hop on? We’re calling a cab.” Yoonchul puts his jackets on as he asks you. You hesitate for a second and turn your head.

Sullyoon didn’t move an inch, she’s still sipping her cup of wine that she never finished during the night.

“Ah... I guess I’ll wait ‘til later, I wanna get one more drink. Take care brother!” You give Yoonchul a firm handshake, farewelling him and other 2 friends.

“Haha, our future bride! Are you leaving yet?” Meanwhile, the two couples are also heading outside.

“Oh, yea.” Sullyoon puts down her glass onto the counter as she tilts her head towards your direction. Your peripheral vision catches this moment, so you instantly look down on your phone which 3 new notifications had popped up since you last checked 2 minutes ago.

“I’ll wait ‘til the traffic gets lighter, you know.” Sullyoon gives them a polite smile while crossing her legs.

“Alrighty, take care! Remind us when the wedding is close!” One of them waves goodbye at Sullyoon. You peek from afar, catching her smile freezes for a split second that only you could find out.

“Thanks. Good night.” Sullyoon waves at them back.

And as the two couples close the door, Sullyoon and yourself become the only ones remaining.

Tacit.

You say nothing, instead you approach the touchscreen near the door and select “Room Extension for Thirty Minutes” and pay it out of your pocket.

Need to be generous when it’s worth it.

You seat down at the other end of the U-shaped bench. If it was years ago, you would say it makes you feel like Sullyoon and yourself are opposite poles of a magnet that attracts this other.

Rather, it now gives you the feeling that you both are here because you’re repelled by the same pole from your respective partners. She hasn’t said a word since the last friend left. So you decide to break the ice.

“Good morning.” You say, the old-fashioned way.

“What’s so good about the morning?” Sullyoon finally speaks, the first direct conversation since years ago.

“Morning was good cuz sunlight brings us happiness. You know. It was nice. Golden Hours.”

“Too bad, it is at night right now. Everything is dark.”

You look at the final distance between you and Sullyoon, the only girl who can bring some light into your world no matter how the darkness tries to claim you.

“Then I may need to turn on my old lamp.” You grin, testing the water.

“You haven’t changed a bit.” Sullyoon finally laughs. “Then you need to get closer to reach the switch… Are you still gonna sit like we’re in COVID era? Social distance huh?” She’s back. The Sullyoon you knew.

“You know, I gotta make sure you’re comfortable with everything.” You raise your hands into the surrender pose, before sliding to the center of the bench.

“You know about me.” Sullyoon also gets closer to a point where gentle whisper is enough volume. “I wouldn’t even stay if I didn’t want to.”

“Right. So, how’s it going? Your job? Your... uh... life?” You scratch your head, not entirely sure what do you even want to hear from Sullyoon.

“He’s a cheater.” But she drops a bomb on a perfectly still pond.

“W... what?” You get caught off guard.

“You don’t have to act in front of me, you know? Yoonchul told me that you sent him.” Sullyoon grins, watching your face blush amusedly.

“Ah shit, that little bitch. B... but well, y... you didn’t have to tell me that.” The red color on your face is definitely not because of the alcohol.

“That was precisely what you want to know about me. No? Come on, it’s not the first day I knew you.”

“I... I’m sorry, I should’ve not. Not when you’re already engaged, at the very least.” You kinda don’t know what to do at the moment, so you apologize without any purpose at all.

“I don’t really mind...” Sullyoon sighs, “this?” She spins her ring with her thumb, “it’s just like a placeholder. To fool ourselves that a happy relationship does exist.”

“Wait what?” You are not sure if you are ready yet for the amount of information she just gave you. Why is she spilling her relationship secrets all of a sudden?

“I didn’t tell Yoonchul too much about it, but I guess you DO wanna find out, hmm?” Sullyoon stares dead into you with her big doe eyes.

“I... I... I guess? If you want to let me know.”

“Tell me about yourself though, you seem to be really exhausted. What’s up?” Sullyoon knows, she just does.

“I... yeah. It’s pretty much fucked up.” You let out a shaky sigh, starting to spill your own tea that you didn’t dare to for quite a while.

You trust her enough though, albeit the time she was with you was years ago. It is just surprisingly to see how the script flips this fast. You thought you had the upper hand.

“Yeah? I could tell.” Sullyoon’s reaction is nothing but a gentle smile.

“Huh?” You turn to her; she’s still sitting there elegantly with her legs crossed like she’s waiting for you to confess.

“You’ve been checking your phone every thirty seconds. And each time someone’s phone buzzed, you’d check if it was yours. Tell me about her.” Sullyoon states, her tone is calm like a flat line. You don’t seem to understand her emotions towards all of that.

“Y... you’ve been watching me?” Her thorough observation of all of your actions throughout the night is bringing up heat to your face. Sullyoon is still the same Sullyoon. Quiet but observant, knowing exactly what’s behind your small talks and the fake, formulaic smiles in front of other friends.

“How do you know it must be something about a ‘HER’?” You challenge back, as you’re still trying not to fold for whatever reason you have in mind. Maybe, you don’t want to admit that you’re worse off after you left her? Well but isn’t it the sole reason why you want to talk to her again in the first place? Even yourself cannot find out.”

“As far as I concerned, only girls would make you drop your convo with your buddies to reply.” Sullyoon delivers the final punch.

“Wow, you’re still good at this. I can still remember how you guessed my coffee order for the day two minutes after we met each time.” You laugh embarrassingly.

“But that was the past, huh?” Sullyoon tilts her chin, looking at you with both curious and a hint of... condolence.

You don’t know what to say, as you freeze there on the leather couch. The surrounding gets quiet once you two stop talking, it is just the mix of the weak hum from the AC and the chill jazz beats you secretly put on as you extended the room.

“You’re right.” You sigh heavily, “Turns out the present isn’t any better. She’s a... control freak, if you will.”

“Why then?” Sullyoon grins, you don’t know what is she implying. “You could’ve leave, you know? Before it is too late... like myself.” The final phrase was barely audible, but you are freaking sure she said it.

“What do you mean, Sullyoon?” Your tongue twisted just a little, because it had been a while since you last call her by her name. “I... I don’t know why I kept enduring it. I fucking know it is unhealthy. But well, I guess I’m more or less just... blinded?” You grab a bottle of beer whoever left unopened. You start letting the liquid down your throat after a crisp sound from cracking it open.

“I felt bad after I moved back from Seoul, felt like I was a failure... that ended up exactly where I started, no?” The beer is cool, but it brings the liquid courage and warmth to your body. So, you open up even more.

“And Sullyoon-ah, it was more or less your fault!” You feel dizzy, Sullyoon’s frame becomes two copies of the same mirage, then four.

Until her soft voice brings you back to the current dimension. “Well, my fault?” Sullyoon giggles amusedly, she then grabs the same bottle of beer you just chugged and starts drinking it slowly.

Too slow to a point where you feel like it is performative, even.

Your gaze locks onto the agonizing fashion of how Sullyoon’s lips seal the opening of the glass bottle, and how she’s basically kissing the edge where your lips were on literally a minute ago. A twisted kind of urge starts forming from the bottom of your chest.

“Y... your fault.” You sound hollow and utterly defeated, your once favorite girl is again sharing the same drink with you. But now as someone else’s fiancé. “I thought it was a timeout, not a full-time whistle. I thought that... naively enough, I lost a lot of things when I made the decision of coming back here from Seoul. But I thought at least you’d still be around.” You stare at the glass table, feeling like the final bit of strength supporting your body is collapsing.

“Did I not?” Sullyoon hums quietly.

“Not when you wore a ring on your middle finger the first time I met you after two years.” You lay back onto the bench, closing your eyes.

You let this strange mixture of feelings capture your mind. Grief, yearn, regret and also the slimmest silver lining by the fact that Sullyoon is still listening to you speaking.

“Now that, I also had my reason. But it’s not the time for questions yet. Finish your story first, baby boy~” You’re immediately awaken from the dizziness. What on Earth did Sullyoon just call you? 

“What on Earth did you call me?” So you ask.

“Aw~ don’t get too sensitive, you’re yearning for the past. So I’m just reminding you about the past. Don’t lie, you liked it.” Sullyoon is already full-on smirking, but more from some sort of devastated relief, not happiness.

“Right. Anyway.” You shake your head, trying to gain some calmness back to your body. “Everything went wrong in Seoul; I was simply not the talent for the sheer amount of competition. Then I fucked up and didn’t get a PhD position in any of the schools I applied to. And I came back; I guess this part we all know.”

“Right, and then?”

“I felt very bad. Especially when... uhm... I saw that you were engaged.” You confess, “so I have to admit that I was being stupid, and I fell into a trap... to a rather... unhealthy relationship.”

“It seems to be more than unhealthy, at least according what Yoonchul said.” Sullyoon states, her fingers spinning on her ring again.

“W... why do you want to know about me so bad? I mean... my relationship.” You feel so exposed from the fact that not only Yoonchul told Sullyoon that you sent him, but also how miserable your current life is. So you raised your volume just a little bit, but in the end of the day? Sullyoon is not here to gossip on you.

“Don’t pretend you don’t want the same from me. Well, I just wanna make sure you can still afford to fold.” 

“Fold? I wanted to. But I was stuck in there too deep, I’m always afraid that if I leave her, I’d lose the final bit of comfort I can sometimes get. You know, when she’s at her kind state. But shit, I know I’m just coping. I freaking know it is not healthy to spend more than half of my salaries on buying designers’ items for her. And I’m also aware of the fact that I have no privacy life once I handed all of my social accounts and passwords to her.” Your eyes feel watery, so you signal Sullyoon to pass back the bottle of alcohol to you. She does. 

You look at the faint crimson at the rim of the bottle, deliberately pressing your lips onto the mark. You do it like it can turn back the time and bring you back to three years ago. Of course it cannot. Sullyoon looks at you knowingly, a mixture of exhaustion and hollowness creeps onto her face.

“I’ve been just coping, Sullyoon-ah. I didn’t dare to admit I made a big mistake.”

“What mistake?” Sullyoon rests her chin onto her palm, elbow on the handle of the couch. There is a faint hint of empathy in her tired but soft gaze. She cares.

“To give up my true love and all in for nothing, ended up losing both.” You smile, not because you’re happy or anything. It’s more about the sense of relief after being able to look back at the messy past and admit it was wrong. It takes courage that you apparently never had enough.

“I’m glad that you feel the same way. My instinct was right.” Sullyoon lets out a quiet hum, and her story begins too.

“You know? I knew you’re a smart guy, I always felt like that from the bottom of my heart. So when you told me you’re off for Seoul? I never expected you would come back.” Sullyoon looks at you, but you avoid her gaze otherwise you KNOW you’ll soon fall.

“Then? I started to think about if it was my own decision that had caused everything to burn. I COULD go with you, but I ended up feeling not to add an extra burden on you. But well, I always wished you the best. And it was not long after I entered the company, he started to approach me. Well, at least he acted like very sweet and considering. So I said yes when he asked me out, and right, I needed some emotional support as well. You weren’t the only one that felt bitter about the ending. Then? Then things accelerated quite quickly, I sometimes found him talking to other girls in the company too often. But I brushed it off as his Sales Manager nature: small talks here and there type of stuff. Until once when I went out for a drink because he wasn’t replying my message until 1 a.m.? I saw him at the bar, with his female clients. They fucking kissed, and it made me vomit.” Sullyoon sighs, trying to drink more beer from the same bottle but you had already finished every drop. She uncrosses her legs, burying her face in her hands for a split second, her shoulders tensing up as the scene of her own fiancé kissing another woman is rewinding in front of her right now. When she looks back up, the smirking, confident girl is gone. There is nothing left but a broken soul.

“Why didn’t you confront him then?” 

“Because I was too stupid and agreed to his engagement the week before. He felt like once that ring is on, it’s like a spell that can protect him from getting caught cheating. Well, I could’ve confronted him and broke up. But maybe as you say, it’s sometimes hard for people to admit they made a mistake themselves. I even wonder what made him start approaching me in the first place? My body huh? I need that courage just like you do, so I can say no. I just... sometimes wish I’m not this observant so I don’t deal with this mess. It is not that bad of a life, besides a flirty fiancé that’s always ‘with the clients’ after work.” Sullyoon looks at her ring, and gradually lets her story roll.

“Wow... I mean... I don’t really know what to say. Maybe we both made some mistakes...” you add on.

“So, it’s time to correct them.” 

“You ain’t wrong. It’s just... it’s too late.” You sigh, scratching your neck that is burning from the alcohol and something deeper than that. “I mean, I’ve already sent myself into a cage. And you’re already...”

Sullyoon doesn’t let you finish. Rarely.

“Nah, it’s never too late. You could quit nicotine when we were together. We can do this again. And we honestly should.” Sullyoon shifts her position right next to you, looking at you with eagerness and pure devastation.

You hesitate, not sure if proceeding is the correct and sane decision to make. But it is at this moment, you feel a strange sense of relief as your pack of cigarettes is sliding out of your pocket after Sullyoon just added weight on the side.

Maybe she’s right. It was easy to quit nicotine because she was there. But when Sullyoon’s gone, what can possibly help you quit the addiction of her?

Nothing.

“May I?” Sullyoon reaches even closer, her doe eyes are winking at you like the final hammer targeting on the shattering reality.

You exhale, closing your eyes. Your fate is destined.

Sullyoon quickly closes up the final distance left as she presses her lips onto yours. Your whole world is immediately converging into the space where your lips meet hers.

An odd sense of familiarity. It’s been too long. Your wrists spontaneously locate her slim waist and pulling her close. The quiet brushes of her jeans with yours is adding a layer of forbidden comfort amidst two chaotic worlds.

You let Sullyoon take the initiative, she keeps planting gentle but firm kisses onto your lips, as her manicured hands cup your face and caress your hair behind your neck.

“Hmm...” a breathy moan escapes from Sullyoon’s throat, shattering the elegant posture she’s been trying so hard to hold tonight. The overwhelming desperation is getting marked onto your soul by Sullyoon’s lips. Fuck. You missed the texture. So full, so juicy... and so pure.

Your hands are all over her slim frame already, fingers tracing her silhouette like you’re afraid that she’ll vanish into the void once your lips break apart.

You can’t hold it back anymore. The urge to break out of the cage overwhelms you and pushes you to override the so-called forbidden. You suddenly put your hands onto Sullyoon’s shoulders and shove her down to her back on the leather couch.

You straddle her beautiful body and climb on top of her, she lets you. When you reach close and look at Sullyoon’s big, doll-like eyes, you don’t find any resistance. You find her looking at you like you’re her savior, from her miserable relationship.

“Hhmph...” Sullyoon bites her bottom lips, her fingers interlocking yours like a signal that tells you to keep going. You dive down to start kissing her cheeks, her neck, and gradually down to her shoulder.

You start to gently unbutton Sullyoon’s white blouse. One, two, and three. You can already see the black straps of her bra beneath. Your finger trembles as you feel her body again, her collarbone is at full display. You attempt to remove the strap to get more access to the forgotten sanctuary of yours - the one that became your paradise - but also the one that made you feel like Hell after you’ve been forced out of it.

But a sudden noise scares both of you off. As you instantly jump off Sullyoon’s body, thinking if it is the staff member of the Karaoke that comes in to check-out. Sullyoon covers her half-exposed upper body with her jacket on the backrest of the bench.

But it only takes you two some extra seconds to find out it is simply a phone buzzing. To be more exact, there’re two phones buzzing.

Yours.

And Sullyoon’s.

“I think you’ve been waiting for it. Your phone was face up on the table for the whole night, and you checked it every other minute but nothing ever came through.” You take a deep breath, letting Sullyoon know that you’ve been looking at her too.

“Hhmn... I’m more curious about if your, uhm, controlling girlfriend is demanding a picture of your surrounding right now.

Remember to leave me out of it.” Sullyoon giggles, but her lips are curving up after hearing what you just said.

“Haha, why don’t we figure it out together?” You surprisingly are not afraid to receive that “checking in” from your girlfriend anymore. You unlock your phone and put it onto Sullyoon’s palm.

“Would you kindly read what did she send me?” You raise an eyebrow with mischief.

“Oh, of course, my ‘dear’.” Sullyoon seemingly knows your implication.

“Darling, I’m hitting up the next bar for Round 2, won’t be back ‘til afternoon tomorrow. Don’t bother me until then, just let me know where you are right now. And remember that hand cream~?” Sullyoon reads it out slowly word by word, using an exaggerated bratty tone that makes you cackle.

“And that’s just a snippet, but well I guess I don’t have to take a picture. Would you type ‘I already got back to my place’ for me? Darling? Pretty please?” You smirk.

“Aw~ of course! Meanwhile, would you kindly read me what my fiancé just said?” Sullyoon does a bowing gesture as she swiftly unlocks her phone and hands it to you as well.

“That’s a sure. And he said, ‘Business tonight, meeting clients in the bar. Don’t have to wait for me, goodnight.’ Quoted directly from your hard-working fiancé.” You intentionally emphasize the last two words, making Sullyoon giggle on the couch. “Do you want me to send anything back?”

“No, just leave it on Read. Like how he does all the time.” Sullyoon stands up, putting her jackets on.

“Yeah, honestly? Fuck them.” You follow her, getting on to your feet too.

“Fuck them.” Sullyoon agrees.

“I’m sorry miss, I believe I was a bit rushed. But I know a place nearby that can allow us to have some... deep in conversation undisturbed.” You deadpan.

“Say less. Lead the way.” Sullyoon gives your ass a lovingly spank as you start walking out of the Karaoke.

You two both laugh.

When the so-called “taboo” is screaming on your face, telling you to break it apart? There isn’t any reason not to.

And that’s why you’re holding Sullyoon’s hand and leading her to the discreet lovers’ hotel in the next block.

The place you two always went, when either of your roommates filed some sort of ... noise complaint back when you two were technically glued onto each other, especially at nights.

———

“I find this very thrilling.” You say, as the late-night street is greeting you with a cool breeze. That makes you feel like the burdens were taken off from you.

“I know right?” Sullyoon holds your hand tighter.

And neither of you says anything in the next ten minutes of walk.

The next time your consciousness is back online, you’re already walking on the hallway on the soft carpet of the hotel.

Your hands are shaking as you nervously tap the room key onto the door.

“BEEP!” The green light goes up, like the final approval for your actions.

Sullyoon shoves you right on to the door after impatiently kicking it closed.

““Mmph... you still taste the same. But you smoked again.” Sullyoon leaves your lips for a brief moment to get some air.

“Fuck, it was kinda tough without you. Needed some quick comfort.” You pull her closer again, not letting her wait for too long like the past years. Sullyoon’s tight body pushes her weight onto your chest, the wooden door protests by making a squeaky sound. But you don’t care.

You grab Sullyoon’s full and juicy ass through the denim, feeling her alluring curves with hunger. You lean down to kiss her, Sullyoon rests her hands on your shoulder. Meanwhile her lips dance with yours. Your half-conscious mind is soon getting knocked out with how smooth her kissing skill is. You missed it.

Her tongue is swirling pass through your lips, meeting yours in your mouth. The wet, sloppy sound echoes through the tiny but comfy hotel room. None of you had bothered to turn on the lights, it’s just the faint, silver moonlight through the half-closed curtain. Someone might see you from the building across the street, but you’re too desperate to care about them. You just let the moonlight shower onto Sullyoon’s small but insanely alluring frame.

You keep taking Sullyoon’s soft little kisses - as it should be - especially when during your relationship, she had always been the one that takes the initiative. Don’t ever estimate the ... dedication and mighty will she has behind that seemingly innocent baby face, especially in bed.

Your palms have shifted upwards; your fingers finally feel her midriff after pushing her tank top up. The warmth makes you feel so safe, and so anchored. Her body is radiating waves of energy that keeps your adrenaline flowing and flowing, so much better than the hollow, lifeless heat from lighting a cigarette.

Your hands slide up and down on the side of her body, letting the smooth texture of her skin greet your trembling fingers. Sullyoon smirks, biting your lower lip gently like she’s punishing you for being so rushing.

But well, she can’t really blame you. Because she is literally your salvation. Your salvation that makes you forget the mess, at least temporarily.

“It seems like someone really missed me.” Sullyoon teases, as she breaks apart the kiss and instead hovers her lips onto your ear. “Show me you’re still my good boy~ my favorite good boy, will you?” She injects lethal whispers into your ear while blowing soft air through your earlobe.

Your body shakes violently as her words dealt more damage you could’ve controlled. As much as you want to keep a little bit of resistance, the past memory of how you willingly let Sullyoon take control of you had caused your mind to melt.

You craved so badly of the comfort and safety of letting Sullyoon lead the way. She’d decide the positions, the plays and you simply oblige. You now realize how sexy that is, in comparison of your current relationship where the intimate moments between you and your girlfriend are more like a transaction.

More like a transaction that has a price tag made of designers’ items and total surveillance and mental control.

But with Sullyoon, it was different. And it still is. It is the sheer amount of love you had in front of the favorite girl of yours. It is the mutual trust and respect that shaped many of the unforgettable moments with her.

And Sullyoon reignited the ashes in your heart at the most desperate moment possible. That’s enough to make you fold. “Mmph... yes... Sullyoon-ah, I fucking missed it.” You cup her face, looking straight into her doe eyes as your clearest signal.

“Still my good boy. Come on, bed?” Sullyoon tugs the collar of your shirt playfully, just enough to let you know that the chain is back on again. But the chain made of caring and trust, instead of neglecting and control.

You follow her, and she shoves you onto the soft, clean bed. Sullyoon quickly dives down to start kissing all over your face again. You let out a few soft hums, she’s finally back.

Your body is still honest, and has very good muscle memory. As Sullyoon continues her kisses all over you, your shaft down below is already painfully hard. A visible bulge forms beneath your sweatpants as you feel her body on yours after years of absence.

“Fuck... Sullyoon, let’s move on. You’re getting me so hard already.” You groan, trying to persuade her to dive deeper than just the shallow kisses.

“No, baby~ Not yet.” Sullyoon pouts, looking at you amusedly. “You left me waiting for too long, and right when I gave up hope? You came back again. That was so evil of you. Is it not?”

“Shit... I’m sorry, Sullyoon-ah. But can we talk about it later? I’m ... fuck!” Your breath hitch as she palms your erected length through the fabric. You hip bucks upwards, trying to chase after the friction. But she instead uses the very same hand to cover your mouth.

“You don’t call the shot tonight, baby boy~ let me see if that freaky girl changed you... Or are you still the same good boy for me.” Sullyoon teases, while you can only leave out mumbled groans with your covered mouth.

She’s still the same. She only wants yourself. Because she loves you. And that’s why you always gave her everything, and things aren’t seeming to change tonight either.

“Hmmph....” You instinctively kiss and suck her thumb when Sullyoon slides it in between your lips. Her other hand guides your palms onto her chest. “Let me feel it, baby boy. Show me how you missed me like this, making you give me everything.”

“Holy fuck...” You mutter as you slide your hands beneath her tank top and bypass her bra, directly feeling her gorgeous tits again.

They are still soft like before. Even though you cannot see it directly, you manage to locate her nipples and brush them with your fingers. Sullyoon immediately feels the pleasure as you witness her biting her bottom lip in such an agonizing fashion. Her cheeks are slightly blushed, eyelids half-closed like she’s enjoying herself.

Of course she is, that’s when she pulls her thumb out of your mouth, wipes it on your face and leans down to kiss you. Before you have time to feel the wetness on your face, she already greets you again with her lips.

“Yes, just like that... my good boy.” Sullyoon says, tilting her head slightly just to get a better angle to savor you.

“Mmph... I missed you; I missed you so fucking bad...” you manage to leave out a few airy groans between kisses. But your fingers never stop their dedicated work. You grab a handful of her soft tits and squeeze them into shapes. Your fingers are shaking slightly everything you brush through her sensitive nipples as how the firm and perky texture contrasts with the rest of her wonderful buns. So does she, Sullyoon never stops kissing you as you play with her wonderful tits. Her face is getting blushed so pink, that even makes you think if it was the alcohol from earlier.

She seemingly drank a lot.

Sullyoon finally pats your hands gently, signaling you as she’s calling the shot to move to the next action. She leaves one long, wet kiss and pulls apart. A long string of saliva still remains attached between you two’s lips. Sullyoon cuts it off with the back of her hand and casually wipes it down on your shirt.

“Baby, do you still remember the old way?” She looks at you mischievously, starting to pull her tank top up in a tormenting manner. Each second she moves it up an inch, revealing more of her full, gorgeous midriff. And your hands uncontrollably reach on to her soft waist.

“Yes Sullyoon, I’d never forget that.” You dive your face into her chest, greedily acquire her deadly scent. Vanilla, floral and fresh. Unlike the dreadful bitterness of your nicotine.

And you start the old ritual, which was for you two to undress each other in the intimate moments at night. You slowly slide your hands up her slim waist after you sneak a kiss on her tits through her tank top.

“Naughty, just like before. Come on, do it quick so I can also strip my good boy too.” Sullyoon moans lightly from your kiss, but her body is cooperative. She raises her arms to both sides of her face, making sure you can swiftly slide her tank top off her body.

Then it comes to her bra, the only barrier between that pair of flawless tits which occasional drove you crazy and made you doubt your sanity. Your sanity when you decided to abandon them and head up to Seoul to achieve mostly two things - torturing yourself and giving your regrets in the future.

You freeze, staring at her plain black bra, her nipples are hard, visibly behind the thin piece of fabric. You have her at this very moment, but how long can tonight last? When the morning comes, you will both be going back to your own cages. The cages which both of you voluntarily locked yourselves in.

“Why are you staring? Hmm?” Sullyoon notices.

“I... I want tonight to go slower.” You let out a sarcastic laugh.

“We can make tonight last forever. We just need the courage. Now come on, undress me, and we fuck. And we think about the mess next time when we wake up.” Sullyoon just sees through your mind. She fucking knows you more than you do. She gives you a smile with sympathy, unhooking her bra from behind in a fluid motion.

“Yes...” you oblige. You kiss her shoulder and the bra strap; you bite down to the strap and slides it down her shoulder. Repeat for the other side. You do it slow, worshipping every inch of her skin.

Finally, the final piece of clothing on Sullyoon’s upper body is gone. You stare at her flawless frame in awe - her nipple is pink and hard, just like a cherry on top of her soft tits below it. You desperately want a taste.

“Like what you see?” Sullyoon smirks, literally grabbing you by your neck and she gently pushes your face onto her chest. “Be my baby boy again tonight and come make me feel good.”

“Mmm... yes...” the moment of contact lights up a fire both on your face and on your itching length. You feel her smooth skin with your face and takes in her deadly scent with your nose. And obviously that’s not enough when your face is in between Sullyoon’s two tits. So you start worshipping her, leaving open-mouthed kisses everywhere. Each time when you come across her nipple, you intentionally suck it in and brush it with your tongue like you’re trying to suck the cherry fruit off of its seed. Sullyoon is drown into the sensation, she presses on your shoulder and pushes you all the way until your back hits the backboard.

Then she straddles your laps and sits onto your stomach, while both of her hands grabbing your heads to make you worship her gorgeous boobs more. The faint mark of your saliva is clinging onto her small yet surprisingly full frame, shining under the faint moonlight through the plastic curtain. You don’t bother to slide it off, you don’t bother to turn on the lights either. You simply keep kissing and licking Sullyoon’s tits under the moonlight. Neither of you are afraid that there can be a certain “audience” across the street, maybe in the end of the day? It is not two people cheating on their partners.

It feels more like two lost faithful seeking salvations in their own desperate way.

Especially when both of your other-half has their own “business” to take care of.

“Mmph... Sullyoon, you still taste so good.” You mumble, as you slowly drag you tongue through her perky nipple for the one last time.

“Hmmph... it’s just the appetizer; the main dish is not even served.” There is a grin with mischief on Sullyoon’s flushed baby face. “Lie down on your back, babe~ I’m about to have some real fun with ya~” She whispers right into your ear. Your body shakes, and a wet spot is soon found on the tip of your tent down below.

She sees it of course, and she taps your leaking tip through the fabric with her nails. You hip bucks up, humping the air for nothing.

“Please... take it off already!” You hiss, as the desire is overpowering your sanity.

“Aw~ you’re getting so horny, I always liked how you squirm beneath me. It turned me on so much~ and it still does, see?” Sullyoon quickly takes off her soaked panties and throws it onto your chest, you feel her warmth and the wetness from her arousal at the same time.

Sullyoon then puts her hands onto your waist band, “Hips up, baby.” And you do exactly that. It only takes a full second before she slides both of your pants and your boxers down to your ankles. Your hardened and leaking shaft finally spring free; it smacks onto your stomach before bouncing back and pointing straight up towards the ceiling.

“Hmm... that’s about the right size like before.” Sullyoon mumbles.

“H...huh?” You were busy brushing aside her soaked pantie that she just randomly discarded onto your chest.

“Good, because that means the bitch didn’t drain you dry.” She says through her teeth. “You left me, but you’re still mine... at least for tonight, do you know that?” Sullyoon strokes your cock, just one single long and slow pump.

“Mmph... yes Sullyoon, yes... I’m yours, all fucking yours. Just please, more...” a drop of clear precum immediately oozes through your slit as she strokes you. You quickly beg for more, only for Sullyoon to giggle.

“How cute~ still like that greedy boy before. Come on, you know the drill. Now the main dish is served, but be sure to eat it properly ~” Sullyoon seems satisfied, she pushes her body even upper onto your chest, straddles around your ribs as you now lie onto your back completely flat. Her shaved, glistening pussy is just inches away from your face.

“Sullyoon, fuck...” you call her name but soon gets cut off as she sinks herself right onto your face. Your nose is brushing her pelvis and your mouth opens itself to greet Sullyoon’s pink, wet and warm folds.

“Mmph...” You moan, because she is a freaking delicacy. The mix of her arousal, her floral perfume and the faint hint of her vanilla body lotion are ruthlessly capturing every single cell in your nose. You get addicted to the taste back in the day, more addicted to nicotine and that’s why you could quit smoking with relative ease.

You dart out your tongue to lap around her pussy, you instantly feel her body is shaking a little. Sullyoon was sensitive with your tongue, she still is.

“Sullyoon, I missed this so bad. You taste so fucking good.” You throw out a few mumbled syllables as your tongue is still busily tasting Sullyoon’s swollen folds. 

“And your mouth still feels the same, doing so well for me. Mmph...” You know Sullyoon is enjoying the pleasure from her breathy moans, so you flick your tongue on to her clit and suck it gently with your mouth.

“H...holy shit, right there, right there!” Sullyoon’s body is shaking as you assault her most sensitive area, she grabs your hair tightly and tries to hold your face in position.

You wouldn’t move an inch, even without her doing so. You can feel that her juice is starting to drip on your tongue, you eagerly lap every single drop of it clean. Her legs straddle your upper body progressively tighter as you speed up your oral work on her pussy.

“Mmph, baby boy... don’t stop! I’m close...” Sullyoon groans, as she leans down and grabs your thighs for balance. You’re already a goner in her heavenly scent and addicting taste, your cock throbs painfully into the air. You feel her tiny hands near that area, but you can’t see how close they are from your itching length, because in your sight there is nothing but Sullyoon’s pussy and her flat tummy. Her flat tummy that you are dying to make a bulge in.

You hump once, trying to chase any sort of friction you could. But it was only the warm air in the hotel room that greets you. “P...please, Sullyoon, stroke it for me. I’m getting so freaking hard eating you out.” Your hands find Sullyoon’s perfect ass and gently squeeze it.

“N...not until I come first, babe~ Now come on, show me how badly you want my hands on your twitching cute little cock, show me how you are still my favorite good boy...” Sullyoon grabs your wrists and pin both of your hands above you head, right at the headboard of the bed. You’re in a position that fully surrendered yourself. Sullyoon’s fingertip is hovering right above your slit, you can already feel her manicured nail touching your leaking tip. But she stops right there, you want to thrust into her warm hands so bad.

But it was this move from her that broke the dam. “M...mommy....yes....” You slip, as an unstoppable pleasure spreads across your body. You feel utterly safe. Sullyoon being in control is hot, but what’s hotter is how willing both your mind and your body are to submit themselves to the girl you truly trust. 

Your movements start to accelerate in a nearly frantic manner. You make big slurpy sounds as your tongue keeps fucking into her wet folds, you tilt your chin to accommodate the angle of Sullyoon riding your face. 

“F...fuck, I’m close! I’m gonna come... on your stupid face...Mmph!” It doesn’t take too long before your frantic licking and gentle sucking on her clit push her to the climax. After one last time you lips seal around her clit and a wet kiss, Sullyoon releases herself right on your face. Her thighs clamp your chest so hard that you feel like your ribs are about to break in halves. Her hands press your head down to the pillow and suffocates you with her flood. Your world blacks out as she loses her balance and sits right on your face during the orgasm. You can only (but also voluntarily) take in every single drop of her orgasm into your mouth and nose. Maybe you are running out of air if she doesn’t lift herself up soon, but frankly, this isn’t a horrible way to leave.

You keep eating her out through her orgasm, and right when you’re about to pass out, Sullyoon finally lifts herself off your face and collapses to your side. She rests her head on your shoulder, her hands lazily playing with your painfully hard shaft. Slowly, albeit you’re already desperate for release.

“That was intense...” she finally speaks, sounds exhausted but satisfied at the same time.

“And is it finally my turn?” 

“Maybe, maybe not.” Sullyoon teases you even more, like she’s about to use a lighter in a pool of gasoline. “And did you just call me mommy?” Her hand never stops caressing your throbbing cock, she alternates between agonizing strokes and teasingly tapping your tip with her elegant fingers.

“Mmph... we... we don’t really talk about that.” You squeeze the words between your teeth as the stimulation starts to become unbearable. But you’re still obedient, your hands are still over your head despite she’s not grabbing your wrists anymore.

“We surely have to talk about that, what’s so good calling me mommy? Hmm? My baby boy?” Sullyoon spits onto her small hands, and you moan out loud as she resumes to stroke you with her lubricant. Slick, wet, warm.

“Because I wanna be yours, Sullyoon-Ah... fuck, I’m all yours. Please more...” You confess, hoping it will earn your release soon.

“Good, I’m happy to hear you say that.” Sullyoon speeds up her pumping, her other hand now playing with your balls. “You wanna cum?” 

“Yes, Yes!” 

“Then give it to me, cum when your mommy is stroking you so nicely.” Her voice is like honey, melting your overwhelmed brain.

“Shit... mommy Sullyoon, I’m.... I’m gonna cum!” You mutter, as the pleasure is sky high. The threshold is met. 

But she stops abruptly right at the edge. Both hands off your body, you scold out loud in frustration and meanwhile, a solid stream of precum leaks out of your overstimulated length.

“Fuck!” Your chest goes up and down violently, before you react to do it yourself, Sullyoon already grabs your hands again.

“Aw~ someone doesn’t like waiting. But you left me here waiting for too long, baby boy~ now this is your punishment.” Sullyoon’s little smug is so dangerous.

“I... I’m sorry! I never knew I hurt you this bad...” you shout, squirming on the comfy bed while getting your hands pinned over your head.

“Now you know. Say it yourself. Is it a good idea to abandon your lovely girlfriend and go to Seoul? For a life that’s even worse than before?” Sullyoon gets a bit emotional, you can see the sides of her eyes are getting watery. 

“I... I was stupid! I was too ambitious and overconfident! I ... oh please, I’ll do anything, just continue.” You half beg half apologize.

“That’s simple, tell me who owns you.” She pouts with triumph.

“You, Sullyoon. I’m all yours, fuck!” 

“Nice. Very nice. See? That crazy bitch can take away your money, she can take away your passwords. But your body and your soul are still mine, always mine. And you are like a mess when you leave me, do you understand?” Sullyoon stares at you like she’s going to pierce through your heart. But you already fully folded too long ago.

“Yes mommy, I... I’m always mommy’s good boy.” You exhale, telling the secret that you tried to fool yourself otherwise.

“Good, now you get your award~” Sullyoon smirks, as she lets go of your hands and relocates her body between your legs. She hovers her face right on your cock, giving you a knowing smile and she take you in with her mouth.

Holy shit.

You almost come in three seconds. The way how her soft lips create the most perfect seal around your tip which had been desperate for friction over the past thirty minutes. The first contact is short, she simply wraps her lips around your tip and soon releases it with a loud, wet pop.

Sullyoon looks into your eyes, like she’s daring you for what’s to come. She then dives back to the business, this time taking you all the way in.

“H....holy shit.” You hitch, as your whole throbbing cock is enveloped by Sullyoon’s pair of red lips.

Sullyoon takes you in. Deep. She gags a little bit as your hard length hits her uvula, a stream of her saliva drips down at the side of her mouth. She adjusts herself, spitting you out before relaxing her muscles and takes every inch of you into her warm little mouth again.

“Fuck... Sullyoon, you’re still good at this.” Your head falls backwards, you grab the sheet with both of your hands to try to delay the building pleasure from below. She doesn’t stop, instead she blows you even faster and harder.

Every time she takes you in, Sullyoon would drag her tongue along the bottom side of your shaft, making you itch and twitch violently in her mouth. And when she lifts her mouth to let you get some breathing room? She’d squeeze her lips around your swollen tip, creating that wet seal like a vacuum. A vacuum to suck out every single drop of your essence, all that juice you were saving since you last released yourself two weeks ago because your girlfriend allowed you to touch her in exchange of a new purse.

“Fuck, Sullyoon, I’m... I’m close.” You groan painfully, because Sullyoon is now ruthlessly drawing circles with the tip of her tongue around your slit, the most sensitive part of your cock.

Sullyoon doesn’t say anything, instead she responds to you by giggling your full, ready-to-go balls with her small hands. Seconds later, the sensation starts to become unbearable. Sullyoon doesn’t stop, she violently fucks you with her mouth and her tongue is dancing around the veiny cock, making sure the stimulation comes from all directions. You soon succumb.

“Fuck! Sullyoon!” You call her name in desperation, yet the pleasure sends waves after waves of heat to your stomach, and then your crotch. Your leg muscles become tense, your toes curl spontaneously and your cock twitches hard. Pumps and pumps of your hot, thick juice directly explode inside Sullyoon’s mouth. She swallows the first strand or two, as it is so strong that your cum directly travels down her throat. The aftershocks are merciless also, you can feel a pool of your semen is formed inside her warm mouth.

You manage to pull out, the tip of your length is still red and swollen, partially from Sullyoon’s lipsticks but more from the sensation that just made you ascend to heaven. You breath heavily, your shaft gradually calms down and softens. There are still a few drops of remaining juice of yours that drip down onto your stomach, but you’re too exhausted to care. You pant, fingers caressing Sullyoon’s hair as she covers her half-open mouth with her hand. You can see the mouthful of cream soup you just made inside her, and she climbs on top of you. Sullyoon pads the headboard gently, signaling you to sit up. You do so, while commenting her as the huge dose of oxytocin from your violent cumming. “Holy shit Sullyoon, your... your mouth is insane. You fucking drained me dry.”

“Ont say anyying, Cwose yaw eyes wawy.” Sullyoon grins, and you think she just told you to not say anything and close your eyes.

Ah! She is definitely going to play a magic trick! You close your eyes, and the cream soup in your mouth is gone. Yummy in her tummy. Definitely!

“Aw come on, you don’t have to be shy. It’s not the first time I see you drink it all.” You smirk like you’ve just conquered the world. How cute of a girl Sullyoon is! But you still follow her instruction like the good boy you are. Sometimes you just gotta cooperate, no?

Turns out you are very wrong.

Sullyoon claps your face playfully. And the following three things happen one by one.

Your mouth opens itself.

Your brain realizes something is off.

You open your eyes but it’s too late.

Because Sullyoon opens her mouth while winking her doe eyes directly into you, and a thick string of your own cum mixed with her saliva lands precisely to your waiting mouth.

Holy shit. Your heart sinks to your stomach as she forces your mouth open by stretching your cheeks towards opposite sides.

“What the fuck?” You mumble, but Sullyoon stops you by doing the “shhh” gesture on your lips.

“Taste it.” She orders. Voice soft, but with no room for negotiation.

You stare at her in awe, but you feel this strange urge to simply obey to everything she says. Because your body apparently knows she is the right person that you can trust. You feel safe with her. You crave for her dominance over you because you know she’s doing it not to hurt you.

So your gaze locks in with hers, and you oblige by opening your mouth wide and swallowing everything in a big gulp. “Yes...Mommy....” You realize you are hard again, and so does she.

“Good boy. Such a good boy for me.” Sullyoon then presses her lips onto yours, and you two start to exchange this wet, obscene kiss with a lot of your own cum getting involved in the process. It tastes odd, you don’t know if you like it. But you know for sure that you fucking crave the taste and texture Sullyoon’s lips.

“Mmph... Sullyoon, it feels so lewd.” You hiss during the brief moment while catching air.

“It is indeed, my baby boy... you should try it yourself so you know how fucking addictive your juice tastes. So addictive that I can never have enough of it even it’s been a few years.” Sullyoon says lovingly, her hands cupping your face like she’s getting to know you again after years of absence. “You’re doing it so well, drinking it all for me when I told you to. Look at how your own cum is still on your lips. You’re so fucking cute, my good boy~” She then wipes off a drop of your milk that went on to your lips with her finger. Without needing her to say anything, you suck it in and lick it clean obediently.

“You... you’re insane for that Sullyoon, but I have to admit... that’s hot....” You try to acquire more of that taste from her finger, she lets you.

“Look at how you’re sucking my finger like a little boy slut you are for me, I bet that bitch can never, hmm?” Sullyoon seems to quite enjoying herself as she sits on top of your chest and watches you squirming beneath her, but what she just said isn’t that enjoyable for both of you at this moment.

It was rather a brutal countdown before you all go back to your cells. “And I bet your ‘fiancé’ is letting another woman to do this to him right fucking now.” You sigh, not trying to fight back against what she just said. But more like a helpless realization that as much you feel like in paradise under the silver moonlight, in this safe little corner of the town? Next time when the sun rises… You two are converging back to your own destinies.

“Let’s not worry about that for now, babe. I wanna really feel you tonight, we’re not done yet.” Sullyoon forced a faint smile, maybe the reality recaptures her mind as well. She doesn’t feel as calm all of a sudden.

She then reaches her right hand out, planting a kiss on your forehead gently. “Take this ring off for me, good boy.” Sullyoon takes a deep breath.

“W…what? I... I can’t! I’m not supposed to.” You are surprised for her sudden request, or rather, a command.

“We are not supposed to cheat on our partners and fuck in a love hotel while drunk.” Sullyoon says, emotionlessly.

“Well, is it still the case when our so-called partners are being a dick themselves?” You sigh.

“Exactly, so say less.” She nods.

You finally agree, holding her wrist lightly and takes that diamond ring off Sullyoon’s middle finger. The moonlight reflects on the tiny diamond piece on top of the ring, but you don’t get blinded by the cold and icy light. You instead drop it onto the wooden nightstand beside you and let the ring drown in darkness.

“Good. Now we do it. Old ways.” Sullyoon smiles like you just took a big burden away from her.

“Aw, come on! I thought I can finally get some control!” Seeing her smile eases the anxiety deep inside you as well, you joke. Well, because the old ways you two had on bed? Basically, Sullyoon decided how much and in what ways she uses you.

Honestly? You needed this. Because you come to the realization where the hottest control isn’t forced. It should be mutual, and voluntary. You let Sullyoon take the lead, or rather, you WANT her to do so. More or less because you trust her so much that even she’s the one on top, she will always make sure to make it feel good for you. Maybe it was the lovely praises every ten seconds, maybe it was the cuddles and the fluffy aftercare she did with you.

But those were what made you feel safe and loved, not like how you are owing someone money or your freedom for every thrust she “allows” you to. Of course, this “someone” in context is definitely your current girlfriend. She makes you feel like sex is a trade, but Sullyoon let you understand it is about mutual affection and respect.

“Come on, you liked it every time.” That’s why you respond with a knowing smirk when she pulls out a condom after reaching for her purse.

“You seem to be well-prepared to fuck someone.” You tease.

“I should rather say it’s the loneliness that did stuff to me.” She peels it open, but then hesitated for a split of second. Sullyoon then throws it away, letting the latex land on the sheet. “No, I decided to actually feel you again tonight.”

“Wow, that’s a bold move. You sure that he is your future husband but I’m the father of your child?” You joke.

“I wouldn’t mind you being both, but fuck it. Just pull out in time and we’re good.” Sullyoon doesn’t wait for further ado, as she sinks herself all the way down onto your re-hardened cock in one go.

“Mmph... yes....” you let out a few mumbled subconsciously as she greets you with her wet and warm pussy. Damn, she is as tight as you remembered her to be. Maybe, just maybe, there weren’t a lot of stretching-her-open that took place in the past a few years.

“Mmph... you’re big still. Getting hard again for me, such a good boy. Uh...” Sullyoon interlocks her fingers with yours as she starts to slowly roll her hips.

Her walls clench against your cock in every angle, milking you completely. You thrust upwards, trying to chase as much friction as possible. But Sullyoon decides how much you can get; her weight is all slammed down on you after the slow motion of she releasing you almost to the tip before sitting back down.

Your cock gets harder than the first climax, as the familiar feeling of her pussy is back again. You close your eyes, trying to feel her body as your ex is riding your cock in such an agonizing fashion.

“Oh yes... I can feel it; I can feel your cock spreading me so well. It’s doing a good job for its mommy, Mmph...” Sullyoon’s voice is like a drug, assaulting your already horny brain.

“Fuck... yes, you’re so tight. I... I can’t last long if you keep milking me like this, shit...” you say between your teeth, enjoying how Sullyoon’s tight walls are clenching around you. Your fingers are still locking with hers, Sullyoon’s hands are a bit cold, but her folds are like s torch that’s lighting up a fire down below.

“Holy, you’re so big... going in so deep.” Sullyoon moans, as your length pounds deep into her every time she sinks down. “Mmph... g... gonna cum!” She lets out a few breathy moans as she releases one of your hands and starts rubbing her clit with her fingers.

“Damn, you’re so freaking tight. Come for me Sullyoon-Ah, give me all. I missed it so bad.” You groan, as your hips trying their best to match the accelerating rhythms of the wet slapping sound of Sullyoon riding you.

Her body jolts as her fingers are practically dancing on her swollen clit. You can feel how much wetter she is getting, her juice keeps crating that lubrication and makes friction almost non-existent. Your cock slides in and out of her pussy with ease, each time you thrust, her walls spasm and squeeze you tighter.

“So... so good. C... coming!” Sullyoon lets out a few mumbled words as she bites her lips to try to resist the flood of upcoming pressure. But she soon gives in to the sensation from both of her fingers in her clit and your cock that’s stuffed deep inside her.

She slams down on you for the one last time and she comes. Her pussy pulses rhythmically and releases her own juice while wrapping around your cock, her nails dig deep into the skin on the back of your hand.

But you don’t feel any pain, not when you see the prettiest face in pure pleasure and when you hear the loveliest hymn on this world, namely Sullyoon’s quite but satisfied hums.

“Holy fuck, that was intense.” She lifts herself off of you, her own juice dripping down to your stomach in a thick string. Your cock is glistening from Sullyoon’s climax, waiting for its turn to release your pleasures.

Sullyoon lies down beside you, praising you with her usual calm and soft tone. “Good boy, you stretched me open so well... I came right on your cock and it felt so fucking good. You’ve earned your reward, now it’s your turn to come.” Sullyoon says.

“Mmph... yes, Sullyoon-Ah. I wanna come so bad.” You mutter.

“You get to choose where you wanna finish on. My tits? My face? You pick.” She seems satisfied.

“Your face. Holy shit. I wanna paint your pretty face, Sullyoon-ah. The prettiest face I’ve ever seen.”

“Okay~ then give mommy a facial with your filthy seeds. Now kneel and pump yourself, baby boy~” Sullyoon knows exactly how to set you on fire, especially when she inserts her dominance with such an adorable, seemingly innocent face.

“Yes...” you oblige, sitting up and getting onto your knees sideways on the bed. Beneath you, Sullyoon lies on her back and her face is right below your cock. You start stroking, as Sullyoon’s flawless face just simply turns you on.

“Nice, now describe what you see~ and remind me, who owns this cock? Hehehe” She darts her tongue out, giving your frenulum a slow lick. That’s enough to drive you totally crazy, you thrust rapidly into your own hand pussy. Filthy words are leaving your lips without control as you are a goner in front of her gorgeous frame.

“Fuck... Sullyoon, I’m all yours. Everything. Fuck.” You curse out loud as just how her flawless face is right in front of you, waiting for you to paint her with your very own milk. Her cheeks are pink from the arousal, the eyeliner is leaving a faint mark on both sides of her eyes from her gagging on your cock earlier. But Sullyoon’s eyes are always the most alluring. Her face is so small in size, only slightly longer than your fully erected length. But gosh, her doe eyes. They always wink at you in the most innocent way possible, well, even when she’s feeding you your own cum or pinning your wrists to the walls.

“Y... your face? I’ll never forget it in my entire fucking life. Sullyoon-Ah, your eyes alone are enough to make me fall for you. Holy...” the lewd thoughts pushed your right hand to pump harder and faster, while Sullyoon simply lies there in her back, looking at you endearingly with a smug grin on her face.

“Good boy~ I love it when you’re being so honest. Now you earned it, let me help you get there. Hands on your back, no more touching yourself.” Sullyoon smirks, as she takes over and starts stroking your leaking cock again with her soft hands.

“Mmph.... fuck.” You try your best to follow Sullyoon’s instruction and tug your arms to the side of your body. But your hips are losing control and bucking forward on their own, because Sullyoon keeps scratching your sensitive, swollen head with her manicured nails. You feel so itchy, precum keeps leaking out of your slit. You feel like you’re walking in a maze blindfolded, it’s so thrilling because you don’t know when Sullyoon is going to give you your release.

“So... itchy, more please...” You groan, thrusting into her hand just to chase for any more possible frictions. But Sullyoon simply switches being drawing circles on your tip with her nails and rubbing your frenulum. “Watch our baby boy, if you thrust too hard? What if my nails ‘accidentally’ go into your little slit here? I never knew you like sounding, hmm?” She teases as your entire body freezes besides your twitching cock, you’re not ready to accept foreign objects into your penis. Yet.

“Hmm... please, I... I just wanna come so bad.” You beg, despite you know for a fact that Sullyoon likes it when you fall for her.

“Okay~ maybe I’ll let you, you’ve been a good boy for me tonight.” She spits onto her hand, finally starting to actually pump your entire shaft instead of scratching you and making you beg.

“Yes, oh yes... just like that.” Your eyes shut closed, breath hitching. You feel the muscles around your thigh and stomach start to tighten, and your back arches forward. You gradually pick up your speed and fuck into Sullyoon’s wet, smooth hand and it doesn’t take long for the pleasure to overwhelm you.

“Cum for me, baby boy... give me all of the juice that you’ve been saving up. Paint my face with your seeds. Mmph yes~” Sullyoon keeps stroking you fast, and as you thrust deep into her hand pussy for one more time, you cum for a second time.

Ropes after ropes of your white juice splash directly onto Sullyoon’s waiting face. The first shot is not as strong and it dribbles down onto her cheek, mixing with her makeups and it just looks extra lewd. The second wave is much stronger, as they go pass her hand and land on her chest. The rest of them pretty much all land on her hand and dripping down along her wrist.

“Holy fuck... that was intense.” You breathe deeply, not even bothering for your numbing legs for kneeling there too long. Sullyoon looks at her cum-covered hand and she puts it right in front of her face. She sniffs, then licks it off her hand with a mischievous smirk on her face. “Tastes so good, can’t let them go to waste.” Sullyoon then pads your head softly, “Come one baby boy, you look so empty. Hehehe.”

You exhale, lying down on her side. Your head resting near her shoulder like you always did back in the days. She rests her hand on your face; you instinctively take in her fingers into your mouth and licks your remaining juice on her. “Sullyoon... you’re unreal. I wanna just cuddle with you until sunrise.” You wrap your arms around her petite body with perfect curves, whispering into her ear gently.

“Still my good boy, aren’t ya? But I think we need to take a shower first, and we can cuddle and sleep until we wake up. You down?” Sullyoon brushes your hair with her fingers, offering you to extend the short-lasting freedom overnight.

“Hell yeah, bet ‘they’ won’t be back to town until later, huh?” You sigh, implying your girlfriend who’s maybe flirting some rich guys in a bar. And as well as her fiancé, maybe having a late-night conversation with one of his important clients.

“Thanks for reminding me, almost left my ring on the nightstand.” Sullyoon reaches for her ring as she stands up and goes to the bathroom. “Together?”

“Hell yeah.” You follow her in.

The warm steam soon fogs up the mirror, you stare into the reflection of the two former lover birds. But all you see is how the two silhouettes are fading into the haze until your faves become blurry and totally unrecognizable.

“Fuck it, we have until tomorrow.” You slam on the sink, turning around to join Sullyoon in the shower room. Which, her curves are still that alluring even in the mist.

“I know what you’re thinking. I guess we both have some serious, potential proposals to consider. Hmm?” Sullyoon hums as you squeeze through the ajar glass door and hugs her from behind.

“I... I don’t know, Sullyoon-Ah. I just wanna hug you like this for now.” Your head feels like a mess from the violent double release and the alcohol no long before that. So you simply rest your chin on her shoulder and apply soap all over Sullyoon’s body.

“If that’s what you want, then sure. You’re still my baby boy.” Sullyoon turns to plant a kiss on your face.

The warm and relaxing shower ends amidst a lot of casual conversations and washing-each-other-clean, you take one single towel from the shelf and warps both of you around it.

You two stumble your way back to the large bed and tacitly fall onto the soft mattress at the same time.

“I wanna hug you tight when I fall asleep.” Sullyoon stares into you, saying so softly.

“You’re saying like I don’t want to. Come on.” You take the towel off your bodies, leaning sideways like she does and you pull her close so tight that you two almost melt into one.

“Hmmph...” Sullyoon hums happily, putting her leg on top of yours to lock you in place.

“I kinda love you.” You say, pressing your lips onto hers. You feel her warmth and her scents, burying your face into her neck like she’s about to vanish into the night sky out of the window. Your fingers trace down her spine, feeling her curves, letting her soft body and alluring scent wrap around your fragile mind after this crazy night.

The kiss never ended before sleep claims both of you, both of you dreaming of each other in peace, feeling safe and warm like never before.

Sullyoon becomes your bride. She wears the whitest wedding gown, walking down the aisle while her soft hands held tight in yours. You look at the guests, who are your family members and your old friends. They all smile and give you their highest regards, celebrating you like you’re the new king taking the throne. You nod your head smugly, greeting every one of your friends.

But you turn over to Sullyoon.

She is not smiling. She’s crying so helplessly, so fragile.

You see two drops of tears running down her gorgeous face, her makeup is a mess. Her eyes are red, but she’s gripping your hands so tight that you cannot pull them away from her.

“W… what is up? Sullyoon-ah?” You panic, trying to hold her in place. But you look down and see she’s floating away; your fingers lose the final bit of strength. Her small hands soon get out of your reach.

“No!!! Sullyoon!” You scream, but on her fingers, there is only her engagement ring. It is not the wedding ring you put on for her just now; it was the engagement ring from her fiancé.

“Don’t forget me!” She begs.

“No! Don’t leave me alone, Sullyoon-ah!” You jump up to try to reach for her, but instead you find yourself sitting up on the love hotel bed. Your whole body is sweating, a clear wet mark with the shape of your body is still on the thin sheets.

You rub your eyes with the back of your hands, and open them wider to try to see where Sullyoon went. You swear the last time you were conscious, she was in your embrace, her face still blushing from the sex and she tried to hide in your arms like a kitten sleeping in peace. Now? You have no idea.

The bathroom? Lights are not on. Her ring you put on the nightstand? Missing in action. But instead, there is this thin piece of paper that you suspect is a letter from Sullyoon.

You push away the pencil on top, turning on the lamp on the nightstand so you can read – Sullyoon closed the curtains when she left, so you didn’t get waken up by the bright sunlight outside of the window.

“Hey dear,

You get instantly shocked by the title, but you proceed anyways.

“As you might see, I left.”

Well… of course, you say to yourself.

“Last night was fun, or I should rather say, relieving and liberating. I had to admit that I was a bit drunk so things got a little wild, but in a very good way. I woke up just now and saw you were hugging me tight with a big stupid smile on your face, I freaking liked it. And please forgive me that I took a picture of you as a souvenir. Kek… hope HE doesn’t find out. But I guess he won’t even bother to? L.O.L.

Anyways. I think it was time for me to go, because I saw there were at least three digits of unread messages and two dozen of calls from your girlfriend. Nah, I didn’t TRY to figure it out, but it was your phone screen that’s been lighting up every thirty seconds. Good news is, she didn’t demand to know where you are immediately. Glad that she still remembers you were drinking last night, so she said to call her back when your hangover is gone.

As much I enjoyed every second of last night in this little room, and as much I felt blessed to get to see you and feel you again, I think it’s time to say goodbye. I joked about how it is still not too late for us to break the prison and make a run towards the liberty, I realized how the obligation is just too strong to break apart.

I loved you, and maybe I still do. I waited for you for years, thinking if you would still come back to me after you aced your academics in Seoul. But maybe it was the loneliness and uncertainty that broke me? Now I am some other guy’s fiancé. He is not as good as you, I can promise.

I tried to text you, but I think your ‘dear’ girlfriend removed every female’s contact info on your phone so it shows up as a new number on your end. I guess maybe is a signal for both of us to… let go? So I deleted the message and hope it didn’t make you in trouble.

Maybe I don’t have the right to say this, but I truly wish you good luck. And I originally wanted to write, ‘don’t forget me’… but? I realized maybe it would be better, or I should say, easier if you do. Either way, we’re good.

-Yours,

Sullyoon.

Your hands are trembling violently to the point where the letter paper almost slips through between your fingers. You bury your face into your hands, wanting to cry but don’t really know what you SHOULD feel.

Yeah, Sullyoon that you two can break up with your partners and get back together. But she was drunk, so were you. The realization hits hard because it is sometimes a little bit more difficult than just cutting off someone and move on. At this moment, you finally come to the realization that both Sullyoon and yourself know what is the best outcome for you two.

But neither of you had the courage to turn around and face your past mistakes.

You take out the remaining pack of cigarette, lighting up one with ease. You take a deep inhale, trying to let the nicotine give you some comfort, but it only hurts more. You cough, tears flowing out of your eyes. You try to fool yourself that it is because of the smoke, not your emotions.

You sit under the faint glow of the lamp and the dancing flaming of the lighter. You approach it closer to the letter, hoping that the fire with catch the paper and then? The past becomes ash, and you bury it yourself to go back to the shitty present.

But you vaguely see something on the back side of the paper, you then try to stop the spark by blowing air to it. It is still too late.

Your hand lets go of the burning paper, and amidst the igniting sparks? You see a faint scribble of notes. It is Sullyoon’s hand writing. You’ll never in this life forget about it.

“And oh, since I’m not here with you anymore. Smoke less, it’s better for your health.”

The dam is broken.

You dash to the window and swings it open in desperation.

“Sullyoon-ah!!! I… I’ll get through this with you!!! Please!!! Come back!!!” You scream from the bottom of your lung, while crying like a baby with a burning cigarette still between your fingers.

Several pedestrians look up and give you weird looks, but there is this one girl amongst them who doesn’t lift her head and look above.

Instead, she puts the hood of her jacket up and sobs like she just recalls something super sad. She tugs her arms into her chest, despite it is not even that cold outside. It is a morning, but looking like a winter midnight for her. She walks further and further into the crowd, with you shouting like a mad man with a broken heart in the love hotel, head peeking out of the window.

The letter had been burnt into ashes, just like the relationship between you and Sullyoon. You reach out for your phone beside the pillows, trying your absolute best to recall Sullyoon’s number on top of your head.

“Damn it! Just tell me the number!” You smack your own head in frustration, but even so won’t magically make you remember Sullyoon’s phone number. Not if your girlfriend deliberately removed every possible trace of Sullyoon and other girls on your phone.

You are about to light up another cigarette, but your hands stop in the middle because of Sullyoon. Yes. She’s not with you anymore, but she wants you to smoke less for your health.

You stop. Not necessarily trying to become healthier, it is for her. It is your way to yearn the lost one by trying to follow her even after she’s disappeared.

You stare at your phone screen, more than a hundred notifications from the same person - as Sullyoon suggested. But you still have to deal with it, so you dial up your girlfriend’s number.

“Hey! Baby~ you finally woke up!” She sounds surprisingly excited and... soft?

“Oh... hey! Yeah... Hangover, you know? Drank a bit too much of Soju with my old brothers last night. Turns out I woke up in one of their living rooms!” You fake an engaging and sincere tone, meanwhile commending your own lie-scripting skills has a huge improvement.

“Aw~ that’s fine, as long as it was not with other girls! You know, I like loyal boys. Hehe.” You don’t know why as much as she tries to be cute, you know she’s just waiting for the right timing to take what she wants from you.

And it is exactly like that.

“Ah don’t worry, we are all guys. Imma, um... ask them if I can take a shower and I’ll head back to my place. Fuck! This hangover is giving me headaches.” You fake another excuse, but the emptiness and hollowness from your voice are not from acting.

“Actually? I wanted you to make a run to the mall! I sent you a picture earlier, a guy in the party bought that to his girlfriend! I want one too! I know you love me and you’re so kind, I’ll be so happy if I can see one waiting for me tomorrow when I’m back!”

Well, turns out a “get well soon” is too much for her to say before asking you to do her another “favor”. You always say yes without hesitation, but this time? Maybe, just maybe. You want to have a choice.

“Oh? Really? I thought you’re coming back today! I already bought that hand cream for ya!” You test the water, but of course you were fucking Sullyoon last night instead of getting the item your girlfriend wanted for her.

“Good. But they extended the party! It’s so fun, me and my besties are having a good time here so why not? This guy’s house is literally like a mansion; he must be so rich.” She sounds more excited by now when she’s talking about the parties.

“Oh! Good to know.” You cut her off before she goes on for another hour just to flex how her besties’ boyfriends spend for them and get everything they wanted. “I’ll DEFINITELY not let you down tomorrow, see you.”

“Uh ok, bye!” Beep.

You smirk, knowing you just had the final straw you need to make a decision. But you look at the ash of the letter paper, knowing the optimal ending is not achievable anymore. At least you are ready to break free.

You open the picture your girlfriend sent you, and of course it is a designer’s purse. And of course, even though price tag is similar to your wage? She’s still comfortable asking for it like you owe her.

You sigh.

Meanwhile, somewhere across the city.

Sullyoon unlocks her apartment door with her shaky fingers. The crisp sound of the key drags her back to reality, only for her to realize her hands are as cold as the metal door handle.

Sullyoon takes off her light jacket and throws it onto the couch. She flicks the switch on and the warm, orange lights shower her bedroom.

Sullyoon sniffs, it smells clean. Too clean. To an extent that a sane person would know she’s lying when she says there are two people living in this room.

She isn’t. Maybe there are SUPPOSED to be two people that are inhabiting in this neat bedroom, preparing for their grand wedding. But there is just Sullyoon herself. She stares at the ring that she put back on while walking out of the hotel room, she gets speechless.

Sullyoon pours herself a cup of water to ease the discomfort for sobbing all the time on her way from the love hotel back to her place. She could’ve called a taxicab, but she ended up walking. Maybe Sullyoon wanted the cool morning air to wake her up from the lucid dream; to be the alarm for her to go back to her life. Maybe.

She reaches out to her phone in her purse, the very same purse she had been using since the first anniversary of you two. You bought her this, she didn’t ask for it. But you gifted it to her regardless because you knew she deserved the best from you.

There is ten digits already entered in the New Contact in the Message menu, but she first calls her fiancé.

As expected, Voicemail.

“Baby, I still have another very important meeting later tonight and my KPI is on the line. I’ll probably just nap at the office; you can lock the door.”

It took another fifteen minutes for the final hammer to slam down onto the table, making the final verdict for Sullyoon.

She takes a deep breath, then her fingers start dancing on the screen of her phone like she has the script ready to go with a relieved smirk on her baby face.

——————

You had been sitting on the floor in the hotel room for an hour already. You stare at the black screen of the TV that you didn’t even turn on. You’re telling yourself that you are just waiting. Waiting for what? You don’t even know.

Maybe you simply need some time to swallow and digest everything. Gotta eat it up even if it gets stuck between your teeth.

“Ding!”

You groan in impatience as your girlfriend seems like she wants to keep pushing you until you send her the receipt of that purse she wants, with whatever French or Italian names on the logo. All looks the same for you though.

Turns out it is very wrong.

And you’re glad that you made the wisest decision of not dismissing this one single notification.

It is a single line of message from a new number. It is just... this new number doesn’t seem quite new to you.

“Coffee? 2. Need to talk. -S.”

Your fingers can’t afford the weight of this message; you let your phone drop to the carpet. You know precisely the meaning of this, every single fucking letter. Your exhausted brain immediately triggers the fight or flight response; doses of adrenaline rush up your spine.

Your feel shivers all over your body.

Sullyoon? More like your savior.

You stare at your tiny phone screen, kneeling on the carpet. You stretch your arms, looking at the ceiling. You feel like Andy Dufresne showering in the rain of freedom after breaking out of the Shawshank and sets himself free.

You almost run a dash to the family-owned coffee two blocks away, she didn’t tell you which place specifically she wants to meet. But? If she is not doing this where the daily coffee date happened back then? You’d rather accept your destiny.

You try to calm yourself down through the adrenaline spike, but you feel the heat in your stomach starts to become unbearable. You take a quick glance at your phone; you have about an hour. Maybe your girlfriend is expecting you to put the address of that luxury mall into the map and get there asap. Instead, you smile at the monitor, with a sense of lightness that you are just excited to pick up again. You don’t need navigation to the place where you truly want to go.

A quick shower and you walk out of the hotel room feeling fresh. You check-out at the front desk, being told by the staff that “a young lady” had paid for your room.

You grin grows even wider; a drop of tear slides down of your face.

You close your eyes, take a deep breath and walk out of the hotel lobby.

The weather doesn’t change magically because Sullyoon shot you a text. You feel the chill morning breeze brushing through your face. Your heart is still pounding in your chest like it is about to break free. You’re not sure if it’ll actually happen – but you clearly know you are ready to tear the cage apart and welcome a new future.

It is indeed inaccurate to say if you have never thought about the “what if” part of the message. Maybe Sullyoon thought about the letter and felt like she should at least give you a proper farewell in-person. Or maybe it is not actually Sullyoon but it is just coincidence that another random person sent a random message to another stranger, and you just happen to be that guy.

You try to draw your attention away from this matter entirely, your feet go on auto-pilot and your gaze lock on to the city skyline under the warm orange sunlight. What a Golden Hour to be alive… even if the ending is not the one you are dreaming of? At the very least, you gained the courage to correct what’s wrong.

You intentionally slowed down, so the usual twenty-minute walk becomes forty. Even so, Sullyoon is already there, at the quiet corner table that you two always picked.

You gulp nervous, not exactly knowing what to feel. So, you take a deep breath and draw a cross in front of your chest. It is time to figure out.

Sullyoon sees you, and she nods at you at peace. She had changed their outfit apparently; her petite frame is now wearing a plain white dress and a straw hat. You remember she wore this exact dress in your first date, in that library.

You sit down at the opposite side, giving her a warm and peaceful smile.

“Su…” You want to say something, only for her to quietly say “Shhh” and her finger is on her pink, pouty lips again.

Sullyoon reaches her right hand forward, the ring is still on her finger, like the final barrier before you can have your destined one into your embrace.

Then, she starts to do something that almost makes you cry on the spot.

Sullyoon starts to slowly remove the engagement ring off her middle finger. Agonizing. Performative. It took her almost an entire minute before she sets it on the wooden table of the coffee shop. She smiles at you, warm and relieved, like the type of smile like she’s finally at peace after getting imprisoned by a toxic relationship.

At this exact moment, your phone rings again. The buzzing sound draws attention from one or two customers nearby, but you know it is the time.

You exaggeratedly put your index finger above your head, and then presses the red button on your monitor for the first time in months.

“Hey!”

“Why did you hang up my call?”

“Where are you”

The triplet of follow-up message arrives at your phone with in ten seconds.

But you hold your phone right before Sullyoon, giving her a knowing smirk.

You then tap your girlfriend’s profile picture.

You go to her contact info.

“BLOCK”

Your shoulders drop, after months of tension and endless control. Sulllyoon stands up from her seat, and so do you. Neither of you said anything since you entered the coffee shop, but it was more than enough. More than enough to reunite two broken souls.

You lean across the table to kiss her cheek, and Sullyoon lets you. A faint shade of pink climbs up to her face, and she is just cute like the first time you met her.

You pull something out of the pocket and just drop them onto the table, before holding Sullyoon’s hand and walking out of the tiny place where the college dates took place.

You feel her cold but soft hands in your palm, maybe sometimes it is easier to go on with less things. The coffee shop owner will find a ring, half pack of cigarettes and a lighter on her table. But she is not the only who needs to take care of her Loss & Found business.

You and Sullyoon too. For losing, but fortunately enough, finding each other back after some messy drama. You know the future is going to be messy, but at least you both have the best partner possible to fight through every step of it. You are pretty sure she knows it too, right as she rests her head on your wide shoulder.

You quitted nicotine.

You challenged the taboos.

You both crossed the forbidden boundary.

All, because you can never quit a girl that you truly love.

“Don’t you have games that you have to play?” she asks, focus entirely on the yarn in the hands. “You have like, what, ten games you haven’t played yet since the sale?”

“I’m not in the mood to play ‘em.” You let out a deep sigh, fingers rhythmically tapping at the bedsheets. “I don’t even know why I got them in the first place.”

“That’s what you get for buying them all,” she giggles, glancing at her tablet momentarily, holding up the in-progress-cloth. “Why don’t you play that one game?”

“Which one?” You prop yourself up by the elbow, chin on your hand. Watching her fingers deftly weave the wool, admiring how good she looks. Light makeup, glasses that make her look delectably adorable, your flannel over the white top she has on. You’re not sure if she knows that a hint of the black lace underneath is peeking out, but it’s not like there’s anyone that isn’t you have the privilege to see it right now.

“The one with the big number,” she replies, tilting her head. “All about paintings, from what I remember?”

“Oh, that one.” You’re not going to tell her that you bought that game full price and not on the recent sale. A game on the backlog is a game on the backlog, after all. “Maybe I should pick it up.”

“I heard it won a lot of awards,” she adds, face scrunching up cutely when she inspects her work. “And the story’s got everyone hooked.”

“Maybe you can watch while I play?” You grin, knowing that she’ll be taking the controller from you at some point. Even on the intended difficulty, you knew how hard that game was. Add the fact that Sakura gets extremely competitive on wanting to be the best, and you’ll most likely need to add a few controllers to the cart. 

“Later, hun.” She smiles, turning to look at you. “I want to finish this hat for Sana first.”

“But I’m bored,” you whine, pleading with your eyes. Silently begging for her to give you some much needed attention.

“You’re so needy today,” she teases, letting out a little chuckle at your dilemma. “Can’t you play it without me?”

“I can, but I wanna play it with you.” That makes her melt, and her hand reaches out to boop your nose.

“Sweet,” she says, making you smile. “I promise I’ll play it with you later, okay?”

“Fine,” you relent, rolling back down onto the bed. Eyes gazing up on an upside down Sakura, who’s gone back to focusing on the yarn in her hands. “Still bored, by the way.”

“I’m sure there’s something you can do,” she says, her tongue sticking out, struggling at this one part.

Her statement gets you to think. No missed chores that you can pick back up, not in the mood to head to the gym after yesterday’s leg day, don’t want to play without Sakura—

Playing with Sakura is a thought. A fun one, upon giving it much thought. You glance back down to where the hint of her bra is peeking out of that tight top she has on, and even your flannel—as loose as it was on her—can’t hide how busty she is.

You move to sit behind her, arms wrapped around her tiny waist. Pulling her close, her arms come up to face level as she leans back against you. The face she must be making would tell you that she has an inkling of what you have in store to get rid of your boredom.

She’ll still ask what you’re doing. Give you that raise of her brow as she gives you a side eye. Roll her eyes at you when you give her a noncommittal answer, like a shrug and a nonchalant “Just watching you do your thing, sweetheart.”

You let your hands slide underneath her top, feeling the milky smooth skin and the contour of her abs, fingers running through the hard muscle. She lets you, of course; continuing on with completing the beige ‘hat’ that you quite can’t tell how far along it is from being one.

Your chin rests on her shoulder, the view of her deep cleavage from the top gets your fingers feeling frisky, and you gulp at the sight. You distract yourself with a whiff of her shampoo and her body wash wafting through your nostrils. It gets you nuzzling into her neck, lips leaving a peck by her pulse, your breath getting her ticklish and getting her to giggle.

“Stop.” The playful way in her tone along with a small nudge of her elbow against your chest tells you otherwise, and your hands come to join. Touching the spots you know where she’s ticklish, getting your fingers stabbing into them lightly that gets her to reveal the melody of her laugh that never fails to get you to smile.

It gets to a point where the yarn falls down to her lap, her own hands trying to get you to stop your assault on her spots. Every giggle, every laugh—it’s intoxicating, such a beautiful harmony that you could never grow tired of hearing.

Doesn’t help that her thrashing to get you to stop is unintentionally making her ass grind against your pants, her short shorts doing wonders for your cock that’s slowly straining against your pants. 

Sakura manages to end it, one way or another. In this case she puts her entire weight on top of you, trapping you between her and the bed. She grabs hold of one of your hands, getting you to stop at least half of your tickle attack. With a quick swivel around, she faces you, her messy hair along with the crooked glasses that you’re surprised managed to stay on her face takes your breath away.

God, you could stare at the visage of her angelic features. A goddess, right in your arms—such irresistible pulchritude that you’re even lucky to breathe so close next to. Combined with the fond look on Sakura's face, the softening look in her eyes, the slight shake of her head that gets her hair framing her face. 

And that damned smile that gets you all the time.

“Do you have nothing else to do?” she jokes, straddling you properly, her grip on your hand loosening.

The fingers that are on her waist squeeze gently. “Other than doing you, not really.”

Sakura scoffs, rolling her eyes with a grin. “Needy and horny.” She leans in close, her lips inches away from yours. “Whatever will we do?”

“I was thinking if you can maybe, hopefully—” You raise your hips slightly, making her gasp when your erection is against her shorts. “Possibly help me out?” 

“After messing up my hat?” You take the chance to look down at what’s happened with her work. It doesn’t look that bad, though that's what your ignorant brain sees. “I should leave you blue balled for that.”

“I’ll make it up to you,” you say, your free hand resting on her thigh, thumb running circles over the smooth expanse under your palm.

She raises an eyebrow. “You don’t even know how to crochet, hun.”

You reach up to fix the pair of glasses on her face. “I’ll buy you new polaroid film?”

Sakura narrows her eyes, humming thoughtfully. Her answer doesn’t come out quickly, as if she was actually debating on whether she’ll take your offer or not. It comes with a mocking sigh followed by a chaste kiss on your lips. “Deal.” She tilts her head, giving you a smirk. “How does my honey want my help?”

“Well–” you start, already dead set on what you want, running your finger down to give her breast a quick squeeze. “These would be fucking amazing on my face, sweetie.”

Another roll of her eyes. “You and your fascination with my tits,” she comments, shaking her head at your antics.

“Are you complaining?”

“Of course not.” Pulling away to sit upright once more, her legs tuck under into a kneeling position, palms tapping her thighs. “Come on, hun.”

You follow her order, laying your head on her soft thighs while she pulls the flannel down her arms, the buttons of her top becoming undone enough to loosen the fabric and give way for her cleavage. You’re already salivating at the idea of what she’s offering, arm wrapping around her waist to pull yourself closer to her chest.

Your other hand reaches up, parting her shirt in the middle, that lacy black bra of hers an even more thought reducing sight on her than you realize. The exposure has you paralyzed, the one and only action you can do is let out a quiet curse at the fact that you’ll be drooling all over those magnificent tits, followed by—

“I fucking love you so much,” you blurt out, gazing up at Sakura’s smug face, the adoration bleeding through her eyes. 

“Love you too, you horny little shit.” The nickname gets you both laughing, and it’s such a stark contrast to what both your hands are doing that it’s a wonder how you two can get into these situations. Hers fishing your cock out of your sweatpants, yours pulling her bra to the side to expose the soft, mouth watering flesh underneath.

Her laughs become breathless once your mouth latches on to the pink little nub of hers, suckling on her teat like a baby. Giving them a little nibble as your other hand reaches up to grab hold of her other breast, wanting to give her as equal attention as you can. And even through all those layers, you’ll never get enough of playing with her chest.

Sakura isn’t idle throughout, spitting down her hand and wrapping her fingers around your length, stroking you languidly. It gets you moaning, your hips bucking up at her hand as your eyes close. The sweetheart that she is, helping prop you up with her palm resting at the back of your head too, making sure that you never leave her soft, warm, delicious embrace.

“You look like a baby,” she giggles, turning to focus her attention to your cock. She thumbs your slit at every stroke upward, brushing against your balls when she reaches the base, her fingers hitting your every weakness like she was getting revenge for your earlier actions. “Take your time, honey. I’m not going anywhere.”

The words only spur you on, getting you to suck harder, grope rougher. You’re in a haze of pleasure, the pink nipple you’re nursing tasting so scrumptious that you wonder how much better it would taste like if milk were to ever come out of her breasts. You can only let out a muffled noise at the concept, biting down on her nub.

Her strokes grow faster on your cock, cooing such dirty provocations watching you lose yourself. The seduction in your ear, whispering how nice and hard you are for her, feeling you throb in her hands. Her giggles are temptation symphonized, words of encouragement coming out of her in droves as you worship her. That’s it, honey, you’re doing so good sucking on my tits. 

Feeding you more fantasies at every groan you let out, thrusting into her hand in an attempt to chase your release. Growing desperate in her arms, your hunger grows ravenous as you suck fervently on her bud, with the only thing that gets you to stop was a one, simple possibility that she can turn into reality.

“I bet you want to fuck my tits so bad, don’t you?”

That gets you humming excitedly, head nodding, your eyes finally opening to be greeted with Sakura’s gorgeous face—flushed and warm and grinning down at you. You pull away, and if you could get on your knees to beg, you could. “Fuck, please.”

“Stand up for me.” You scramble, your feet hitting the floor in record time, Sakura sitting in front of you by the edge of the bed. She’s biting her lip at the sight of you positively throbbing, leaking precum because of her. “Already so close?”

“Me and my fascination with your tits.” You’re putty in her hands, jerking you off slowly to keep you wanting more. And more she gives, when she’s taking off her glasses and pulling her shirt off her head to expose her bra.

She makes a show of it, pressing them together to remind you just how deep her cleavage can go, of how big her chest is under all those layers of clothing. Baggy, fit, tight—all that doesn’t matter in the face of genetics.

“Starting to think you love my tits more than me,” she says, taking hold of your cock by the base. She gathers drool in her mouth, letting it trickle down her lips and coating your shaft.

“Kkura, sweetie, you know I love you a lot more than your tits, right?” you begin, hands resting on her shoulders.

“Mhmm.” She’s smirking, enjoying you squirm. “Your point?”

“My point is–” You’re interrupted by the softest sensation in the world wrapping around your cock, your words turning into mush when she slips your cock in between her tits, bra still on to entrap you in the pillowy hold. “Oh for fuck’s sake, can I please fuck the utter shit out of your tits?”

Sakura devilishly chuckles, pressing her tits together, the velvety embrace growing tighter. “Love you too, honey.”

You’re fucked stupid, and you haven’t even started fucking her chest yet. She starts it for you instead, fucking your cock on her breasts with this insufferably slow pace, letting another batch of spit down your cock, pooling into her cleavage. And the pressure is intense, thought shattering, god you need to fuck them—

Your hips thrust up, making your tip peek up her breasts. That alone gets your thighs to tremble at the sensation, and you’re biting your lip in a feeble attempt to delay your fate. “Oh my god.” Another thrust, and that unlocks the flood gates. “I’m never gonna leave your tits alone after this.”

“Not like you weren’t already doing that.” She leans down, pressing her lips against your head when you thrust up a third time, and you can only help yourself with a curse slipping out your lips. “Starting fucking ‘em already, hun.” Another dose of spit falls down your cock. “Or are you all talk?”

The pace you set off the bat is harsh; hands gripping her shoulders firmer as your hips snap upwards. The filthy grin on her face as you watch your cock disappear between her breasts adds to the entire sight. Her hands dig down harder on her tits, the embrace impossibly tight that every thrust has the odds of you cumming down her cleavage.

And Sakura has no say as to when you will. She’s given you the reins, letting you whatever you want to her breasts, looking delighted at the mess you must look like by now. You can barely talk, completely taken over by the need to chase that high, and she knows it. 

“Cum for me,” she says, those three words making you growl. Your rhythm goes erratic, and you reach up to hold onto the back of her neck. “Come on, honey. Paint these tits that you love so much.”

“Kkura, fuck–”

“Please?” It’s so innocent, the way she says it. Until the next set of words come out of her mouth, and all you can hear is pure, unadulterated depravity. “Need you to mark me with your cum. Want it so bad, please–”

You come down, taking her lips with your own as your orgasm hits, and your entire body is trembling. Your moans grow muted as the first spurt shoots up her breasts and hits her collarbone. The next few pool in her cleavage, a few strays staining her bra with your seed. 

Her tongue plays with yours as you glaze her, her hands coming up to hold you upright. Her chest follows your hips, moving up and down your cock, each pulse sending another streak of white across her skin.

By the end of it you’re almost slumped against her, your forehead pressing against hers. Your lips linked with a string of saliva, her breath hot against your face. You can barely stand up, lungs in dire need of air, the only thing that’s keeping you up are your hands on Sakura and her own on your hips.

Sakura leans up to plant a wet peck on your lips before she pulls your cock off from between her bra, ruined and stained full of white. “Look at that,” she breathes, looking down at the mess that you’ve created. “I’ll need to throw this bra away because of you.”

You let out a shaky chuckle. “I’ll buy you a new one.” You move to sit beside her, but the aftereffects of your high cause you sagging into the bed.

“Hun, please.” She turns to you with a playful glint. “You’ll just ruin it again.” Her fingers run down her cleavage, scooping up a dollop of your cum and taking it in her mouth. “Yum.”

Her gaze cast downward, toward your softening cock. She takes a glance up to your face, that playfulness turning dark before she sweeps down to take you in her mouth. Your legs jolt, the sudden sensation of her tongue swirling around your length such an overwhelming feeling. It makes you crave for it when she pulls away just as quick.

“Happy now?” she asks, all casual and smiles. Like you’re not dead on the bed and on life support.

“Ecstatic, sweetheart.” You barely have the strength to reach up and cup her cheek.

Sakura smiles sweetly, taking your hand in hers, her lips kissing your palm. “Want me to get some water for you?”

“Please,” you say, and with another, parting kiss on your palm she stands up—cum painted in her chest, bra utterly ruined, and completely glowing that make you shout out—

“Have I mentioned how much I love you yet?”

“Multiple times, hun!”

As she leaves to grab some well needed hydration, you can’t help but let out a smile.

You damn near crash onto the train car’s grab handle, panting. Glance at the station’s scratched, seldom cleaned clock, its minute hand is nay a hair’s breadth away from striking the thirty-minute mark. Climb aboard as soon as you catch your breath. No reserved seating, any empty bench is fair game. Find one on the left. As soon as you drop into it, the conductor blows his whistle and steam hisses from the locomotive’s undercarriage as its pistons work to pull the consist forward.

You made it, not a moment sooner. Panting and huffing almost harder than the locomotive, you lean against the open window frame and let your heavy eyelids settle.

“Excuse me, mister! Tickets please!” The conductor’s stern voice jolts you awake. Your hands roam your pockets faster than your brain regains its bearings, finding the small piece of paper after passing the same pocket thrice. “H–Here you go, conductor. Pardon me.”

The conductor’s wrinkled cheeks tug up as he smirks, checking your ticket and stamping it. “I saw you scramble to this train like your tail’s on fire.” He hands your ticket back with a soft chuckle. “What’s a young fella like you in such a hurry for in that quiet little town anyways?”

You squint and rub your face, peering at the outside. “How far along has the train gotten, sir?” He flips his pocket watch open, clicking his tongue at the same frequency as the second hand. “We just passed the Lorraine Tunnel. Albrecht Tunnel is…fifteen kilometers.”

You nod. “How about the next stop?”

“That’ll be Darmstadt am Gelbbach, four kilometers after the Albrecht—you didn’t answer my question, mister,” he tilts his head, closing his watch. “Oh, do forgive me. What was the question? I…I didn’t catch it.”

The conductor sighs and lowers himself next to you, bracing on the front bench. “What exactly had you running like the devil himself was on your tail? Seven years I worked this line. Never seen anyone done that. Not in that quiet little town.” You shift in your seat as you process his question. He chuckles gently, raising his hand. “Excuse me if I come off as prying. I am merely curious.”

You rub your hands together. Lower your head, your lips weakly curving in the opposite direction. “Well, last night’s drinking didn’t do my schedule any favors, firstly. But uh, I…one could say I was fleeing from my own devils, sir.”

“Hm. Weighted answer for a young man. Something you could share with me, mister?”

You look towards his face. His shaded wrinkles carry history, likely as long as you’ve been alive. A history you don’t wish to pile yours onto, not right now. “No sir, it is not. Forgive me.”

The conductor bursts out laughing, stirring a few other passengers in their sleep. “No need to apologize for that, mister. We’re entitled to our privacy in this here country.” He rises from the seat, straightening his faded blue jacket. “Well, I’ll leave you to your own devices. May you escape those…devils of yours.” He tips his hat and starts walking away, then stops and turns around after two paces. “Or perhaps…they’re something you need to stop for,” he remarks quietly, almost to himself. “Safe travels, mister. Good day.” He turns around and walks again before you could reply. 

Your head rests on the window frame again, trying to catch more sleep. Your eyes drift to the carriage’s interior lighting and scoff. The recent war means oil supply routes are still disrupted, be it crude oil or whale oil. This carriage was just retrofitted for oil lamps before the war, and now it’s back to candles. 

“That cursed war. All for what? Three long years for a morsel of land in the northeast?” Your nails dig into the old varnished wood. Your gazing is interrupted by the glint of an old businessman’s silver ring, pointing towards the landscape while muttering something to what seems to be his wife. Or mistress. 

“No, no, certainly not. It's the coin. It always comes back to the coin. Those greedy, snivelling sycophants we call businessmen will do anything for the damn things.” You fish out your wallet from your jacket’s inner pocket. Pull out a wrinkled banknote, stare at it, squinting. “Just how do you yield such power?”

You fold it between your fingers, resting your elbow on the window. “The power to raze lands, sink ships, take…” Breath catches in your throat, images flashing as a stark reminder. “Take away families. Men. Wives. Children.” Your eyes scan the cabin, spotting the few ladies travelling onboard. One sits at the very front right, next to the gangway. 

She isn’t as covered as the others, long silky hair flowing freely over her shoulders. Clothing’s pristine white. Thin, too. Seems like her skin is visible through the fabric. You raise a brow, murmur to yourself. “Now what are you doing wearing that in winter? All the mud and cold must be a right bother for—” The lady turns her head, exposing her side profile. Your blood drops several degrees, shifting backwards in your seat. 

“No…no, that—can’t be. Not…I must be mistaken.” Caught between avoidance and curiosity, you lean back and angle your head at the same time, trying to get a better look at the woman. “Wandering willows! Doyeon? Kim Doyeon?” Mouth babbles silence, fingers mapping wrinkles on your pants. Something caught in your throat and you cough loudly, tapping your chest. 

The lady looks over entirely upon hearing it, her face displayed in full. You yelp and duck behind the front bench, hunching over. “No…how? How could she possibly end up…all the way out here?”

You spend the next several minutes tucked behind the front bench, peeking out once the train approaches the tunnel. Flinch back down. She seems to be frozen in that last position. The train enters the Albrecht tunnel and you feel a great wind upon you. Its strength is uncanny, blowing around loose dirt, papers and cloths. The cabin is plunged into darkness as the candles are blown out. And then it feels like your consciousness is being blown away as well, eyelids falling against your will, the deafening thrash of wind fading away…

“Excuse me, mister! Tickets please!” The conductor’s voice jolts you awake. You look around, you’re back to leaning against the open window. Brain isn’t hazy like it usually is after a nap. “Didn’t—” Throat is dry. “Did you not check my ticket sometime ago, sir?”

The conductor grumbles. “No sir, I did not. I left you for last ‘cause I didn’t wish to disturb your slumber. But I gotta check your ticket eventually, don’t I?” He chuckles and extends his palm. You find the ticket right away, seeing that it doesn’t have the conductor’s stamp. He takes it and gives it one. 

“I saw you scramble to this train like your tail’s on fire.” He hands your ticket back with a soft chuckle. “What’s a young fella like you in such a hurry for in that quiet little town anyways?”

“Wh—” That question again. Didn’t you go through this already? Was that a dream? Didn’t feel like a dream. You remember it like it was mere minutes ago. “I…it’s not something I’m comfortable sharing as of yet, sir. Forgive me.”

The conductor laughs. “No need to apologize for that, mister. We’re entitled to our privacy in this here country.” He adjusts his hat and straightens his faded blue jacket. “Well, I’ll leave you to your own dev—”

“Wait! Where…where are we, conductor? How far along have we gotten?”

He flips his pocket watch open, clicking his tongue at the same frequency as the second hand. “We just passed the Lorraine Tunnel. Albrecht Tunnel is…fifteen kilometers.” 

Your brows furrow, breath hangs heavy. “How about the next stop?”

“That’ll be Darmstadt am Gelbbach, four kilometers after the Albrecht. Plenty of time until your stop, mister. Get some shut-eye. I can wake you up if you wish?”

You look out the window. You’re not terribly familiar with the landscape, but it does seem like the same one you passed. “No need, sire. Thank you.”

He nods. “Very well. Anything else I can help you with, mister?”

There is something. It’s right on the tip of your tongue. What is it? “No, sir. Have a good day.”

“Likewise, mister. Safe travels.” He tips his hat and walks away. Your eyes follow him all the way to the front gangway and there she is. Same spot. Same questionably thin and pearly layers. Same…unmistakable spitting image of Kim Doyeon. 

Keep your flappy mouth shut this time. Look away, don’t acknowledge her. Don’t acknowledge it. Act like nothing is out of order. “Just…coincidences. That’s it.” A glint from the front catches your eye. That same old businessman with the silver ring, pointing towards the landscape while muttering something to his lady companion of unclear relation. You swallow a dry gulp. “Disturbingly aligned…coincidences. But coincidences nonetheless. What did that N’dhia priest say that time? Dreams are windows into other worlds? Oh, wandering willows! Shut up, man!”

And you do. Head locked towards the landscape, which eventually gives way to the hills which the Albrecht Tunnel cuts through. The locomotive’s smokestack enters, steam puffs up behind it, then your carriage enters. 

Winds surge through the interior again, not the sort that tunnels cause. Not this strong and loud. Not in this weather. Various light objects get blown around again. The candles blown out, cabin plunged into darkness. “No, no, no…” And your eyes. Your eyes grow heavy and begin shutting, ferrying away your consciousness despite your best efforts to will it still. The winds fade out, your body feels light—

“Excuse me, mister! Tickets please!”

You awake with an exasperated whine. “What on earth is happening?” You pant, eyes bouncing around.

“Well, as the conductor it is my duty to check your legitimacy as a passenger—”

“Oh, for—not that!” Your lash at the conductor turns a few heads towards you. Hers included? Don’t know, not looking. “Forgive me, sir. Here you go.” Your hands move on muscle memory at this point. He scrutinizes you for a moment before stamping the ticket.

“I saw—”

“Are you going to say something about me scrambling to this train like my tail’s on fire?”

He lets out a hum. “As a matter of fact, I was. Verbatim.” His eyes squint as he leans in slightly. You cut him off just as he reopens his mouth, “And…and, what about, um. Where are we? How far has the train gotten?”

The conductor leans back and opens his pocket watch. “We just passed the Lorraine Tunnel. Albrecht Tunnel is…”

“Fifteen kilometers. Nearest stop is Darmstadt am Gelbbach, four kilometers after it,” you murmur, completing the sentence in the conductor’s cadence. He scoffs, closing his watch and resting his elbow on the front bench. “By the Lord.” Leans in closer, his voice just enough to reach you. “You read minds, mister?”

You exhale a tight breath, your leg trembling. “No sir, I do not. Merely…confirming something.”

The conductor hangs for a bit before standing straight, adjusting his hat. “Well, I sincerely hope you received your…confirmation, mister. Safe travels.” He turns away and walks a few paces before you once again interrupt him.

“Wait! Wait, I–I need to ask something else, sir.”

He sighs and turns around slowly, his lips stretched. “Another one of your confirmations, mister?”

“No. No, I truly must ask you something.”

He puts away his stamp. “What is it?”

You crane your head around him, getting a better view of the front. “Where did that lady in white board get on?”

The conductor looks behind him for several seconds, scanning it and glancing at you a few times. “What lady in white?”

You click your tongue and point at her seat. “That lady in white. Whiter than the northern snow. Right upfront, sat next to the gangway.”

“Mister…” He pinches the bridge of his nose, sighing. “As much as I try to be of service, entertaining your pranks falls beyond my responsibilities.”

“No! This is no prank, I swear! Is there not a lady in white sitting there?”

“No, sir. There is none. Or anybody, for that matter. Seat’s been empty since we set off all the way back in Port Carrilho.”

A quivering breath escapes you, your legs bouncing harder. “Th–thank you, conductor. Good day.” He continues his walk, pauses near the seat to look it over. Not five seconds pass before he shrugs it off, truly seeming to not see anybody in that seat. Even when you see her clear as day.

You keep your eyes on her. She turns her head, first partly, then faces you squarely. It sends the same shiver down your spine, but this time you’re transfixed. Her lips curve up into a full smile, though not reaching her eyes. You remain like that for the subsequent minutes. Frozen, staring, mind galloping in so many different directions it comes up blank. The tunnel comes and the candles are blown out. The cycle restarts.

Same line, same wake up. You gently bar off any and all curious inquiry from the conductor, sticking to the bare necessities of exchanges. Sure enough, there she is again. You realize this will keep happening. Again and again and again, until you do something about it. Only one direction to go.

You know. You tell yourself that. But you don’t move. Shift in your seat, sliding all over the place. Arms and legs tremble now, briefly inviting the curiosity of the passenger right in front of you. Takes so long for you to finally progress that the tunnel’s fast approaching by the time you’re on your feet. Two long, tense steps in and it’s over. Candles out, start again.

This rinse and repeat continues, each time you cover more distance. They’re small increments, the carriage’s shaking of no help. The last four meters though, you’re way too frustrated to hesitate. Make a mad dash, stopping just in front of the gangway. Clench your fists hard and turn around slowly, a miniscule sliver of hope hanging by a thread. Hope that she’ll be gone and this was all an agonizingly long and convoluted dream. 

“D–Doyeon?” Your voice comes out coarser than the railroad’s old ballasts.

She’s right there. Up close. Surreal. Her red lips curve up just a bit further. “Hello, darling.” That is indeed Doyeon’s voice. But there’s something off about it you can’t grasp. You can tell, even after over three years of not hearing it.

Now you look her down, something in general isn’t quite right. Slick, voluminous black hair frames her sharp features. Makeup that enhances them further, she looks like a damn aristocrat. You’ve never seen Doyeon like this. Never had the money to. 

“Well? Are you going to…stand there for the entire journey?” She points with her chin and pats the spot next to her. “Come, sit.” 

You keep your eyes on Doyeon as you sheepishly approach the seat. Her attire is practically the exact opposite of her luxurious getup above the shoulder. A simple corset covers her chemise. Below it a pair of drawers, not covered by a petticoat. All very basic, very clean. 

“How do you do?” she says casually. 

Your mouth’s gone dry, lubricate it first. “Wh…did—how are you here, Doyeon? And…why are you in these?” Your arms reach out by instinct, trying to cover her. She crosses her legs, cancelling that reaction. “What do you mean why?”

“Look how thin these are! You get cold easily, and these are utterly inappropriate for travel! Nowhere beyond the bed is this…appropriate.” Your heart drops again. This attire is no mistake, it is the spitting image of what Doyeon wore that night. The night you left.

“You…you’re not Kim Doyeon, are you?” You slide away from her in your seat, back against the window. “Who are you? What are you? What have you done to me? To this train? Why do events keep repeating?”

Doyeon’s smile shrinks to a bare semblance of one as she looks forward, sighing. “You are asking the wrong questions, darling.” She turns to face you again. Despite her expression unchanging, the air it carries is different. “The only questions to be asked are for yourself. Regarding what happened between you and this woman.” You recoil as she shifts closer. “So ask away,” she whispers.

“I haven’t the foggiest idea what you mean by that.” 

Doyeon chuckles, stretching her arms and legs to occupy as much space as possible which makes you shrink. “Oh, you know. You know it very well, darling. You always have. And yet…” she trails off.

You’re further agitated. Insides feel like they go in two different directions. Conscious you wants to keep protesting. Subconscious you hears her, he does have an inkling as to what she’s referring to, but not quite courageous enough to communicate.

It ultimately results in nil, just squinting with your mouth hung open. Doyeon claps her hand and rolls her eyes, sitting up straight. “Very well. I’ll get us started. Gone through these cycles enough, haven’t you?” She licks her lip and begins, “Why did you leave?”

And we’re off. “I…it. It was…”

“Avoid any embellishments. Why did you leave this woman? At twilight, without a word?”

Deep breaths. Annoyance rises within you, even as its presence is well understood. “It wasn’t—I left a letter.”

“You left a letter,” she mocks. “Any literate fellow might as well have written her that letter.”

“Are you—” Heat rises in your chest. “Is that what all this is about? Punishment for my ignorance that evening? Curse me to be confined to this train, never to see another twilight?”

“Ugh, you keep doing that,” she growls. “You asked for this, you know.”

“What?!” You’re properly angry now. “Asked for this, how? What do I keep doing? You are not providing any clarity to all this!”

“Don’t deny it.” Her voice is much calmer than yours yet carries more authority. “You’ve thought about it often. So much that your way of thinking has resorted to it.”

“Resorted to what? You’re not making any—”

“Resorted to groveling at your hardships, not making the adequate effort. Wishing that somehow, sometime, somewhere…” She takes a breath. “A sudden savior will appear. With keys to all your exact problems.”

Doyeon’s right on the mark, your chest taking a jab. “It’s…” You sigh. “You’re right.”

“And now you have that divine intervention you’ve so begged for. Whoever sent me is either immensely beneficent…or fed up.”

You scoff. “Perhaps both.”

“Perhaps.” Her expression softens. “So think, Artur Noronha. Is this truly a curse for you?”

You exchange only looks before she resumes, “Don’t answer that. Answer the first question instead. Why did you leave her?”

“I was…anxious. Afraid,” you answer in the next cycle as the previous ended with a long silence after her question. 

“Afraid of what?”

“Of not being able to provide for her.” Your hands quiver hard. “The war was looming over our heads, and…I’d already made multiple unwise decisions by that point.”

Doyeon nods slowly. “What sort of ‘unwise decisions’?”

“The sort that would debilitate us if they kept occurring. So I…took initiative.” She visibly recoils, her face crunching. “Initiative?”

“Yes. There was this…wealthy family near our home. They had been coveting Doyeon for their son for…well, about as long as we’d settled there.”

She gasps. “So what, you sold her to them?” 

“Wandering willows, no! She was not a slave!” you retort. “I merely…suggested it to her. Or pushed for it, rather.”

“Wait, just—” Doyeon holds up her hand. “You told your lover, to her face, that you would prefer she be with another man? Because of his wealth?”

“No—well, I didn’t utter it directly.”

“Oh dear.”

“I…alluded to it in conversation. And wrote it in the letter.” Your voice shrinks with every word.

“Gods above,” Doyeon murmurs in apparent horror. 

“I know! I am a fool, a coward!” You grab your hair with both hands. “It has haunted me ever since. No need to parrot it for me.”

Doyeon sighs, hands running through her hair. “There lies your problem.”

You scoff, looking out the window. “Tell me something I didn’t know.”

“You are no fool nor coward, Noronha,” she states firmly. It catches you off-guard, head snapping to face her. “I beg your pardon?”

You hear wheels squealing a moment later, accompanied by a loud hiss as the train grounds to a rapid halt. You look around in confusion, but not as long as the other passengers. “Did you cause this?”

“Not myself, no.” Doyeon brushes her chest. The conductor appears and is immediately bombarded with questions.

“Please calm down, ladies and gentlemen. We have a technical issue with the brakes. Our engineer is working to resolve it as we speak. Please, sit down.” That was enough to assure most passengers, a few still moaning but not towards the conductor. “These damn new pneumatics. Whatever happened to brakemen?” you hear him grumble as he walks past.

Doyeon paid no attention to any of this discourse, staying on you. “Anyhow, you heard me right. You are no fool nor coward.”

“But…you said my problem lies therein!”

“Not that you are either of those things.”

You stammer and sigh, rubbing your face with both hands. “I do not follow.”

“Look at me.” You do, shoulders slumped. Doyeon shifts closer still. You don’t move away. “No coward is able to fend for himself as well as you did for the past three years. No fool is able to avoid the draft by expertly making himself an indispensable worker, like you did.”

You shake your head, not replying. She continues. “Do you understand? Those actions were courageous, ingenious. Yet do you consider yourself to be a genius? A warrior?”

“No.” Your lips twitch. 

“Exactly. You committed acts of great persistence and intelligence, but do not define yourself as either. So why…” She reaches for your hand, the latter flinching before settling under her cold palm. “ …do you define yourself by the foolish, cowardly acts you had committed?”

You look at her hands, they feel the exact same as your Doyeon’s did. “I think…I understand what you mean.”

Doyeon grins, smile reaching her eyes now. “We will trust you on that. ”

You chuckle, heart feeling warm for the first time in this journey. “So…what—oh!” The train jolts as it starts moving again, its whistle soaring through the landscape. “Marvelous. So what…what’s next for me?”

Doyeon stretches her free arm, yawning. “That’s on you to decide. What is next for Artur Noronha?” She tilts her head side-to-side, clicking her tongue. “Alright, fine. Do you still love this woman?”

Your eyes feel warm as well, tears welling. Take a deep breath. “Yes.”

“Enough to resist resorting to labels, to make the effort towards bringing her back into your life?”

“Yes. Yes, and yes.” Another deep breath. “It will be difficult though, won't it? Haven’t the foggiest where she is, or what she is doing today. Wandering willows.”

“It will. Because it matters.”

“Hm?” You raise a brow.

“It will be difficult because it matters.”

“Interesting.” You groan and bury your face in your palms, anxiety rising from the challenges ahead. “Ugh, will she welcome me again after I left her like that? What if she’s been harboring vengeance? Or worse, will she even acknowledge me? These—”

“Hey.” Doyeon snaps her fingers. “Do you read minds or something?”

You lower your hands and scoff. “That’s the second time someone’s asked me today. No, no I don’t.”

“Perhaps you are familiar with the concept of ‘telepathy’?”

“Telepathy? No, never heard of such a thing. Why are you asking all this?”

“So you do understand there are no means to know what Kim Doyeon thinks of you presently, let alone have reign over it?”

“I—” Something inside clicks. “No, there are none.”

“Then there we are.” She claps her hands. “You restrain, resign, undermine your own abilities over the possibility that she holds animosity. Disregarding the possibility that things will go well.”

“But…I have wronged her badly in the past—”

“Is that the present? The future? Is it?!” she snarls.

“The—” You sigh and whine. “No.”

“Then stop fussing about it!” She taps your shoulder. “This vengeful imagery you conjure of hers is nothing more than a projection of your own insecurities!”

“Huh.” You were about to say something, but started giggling instead, becoming more tickled by the second. 

“What’s so funny?” she asks, eyes wide.

“You sounded—” Burst out laughing now. “You speak more eloquently than she did, but when you said stop fussing you sounded exactly like her!”

Doyeon smirks and scoffs, punching your arm lightly. “Look at you. All smitten when she enters your mind, even now. Still not worth embarking on the challenging journey?”

“Oh, she absolutely is.” You hum, arm raised to brush aside a tuft of hair on this Doyeon’s face. It does nothing to her, expression unchanging. On your end, welled up tears begin to fall. 

“Now I remember, we were amorous far more than we were hostile. Conflicts were resolved amicably.” You shake your head, half-sobbing half-laughing. “Conjuring these awful ideas truly was…foolish.”

Doyeon caresses your cheek with her hand, the only thing different from your Doyeon being the lack of warmth on her palm. “I am satisfied you understand. My task here is done.”

You sniffle and nod, letting her go. She lets you go also. “Thank you. From the bottom of my heart. Please deliver my gratitude to…whoever sent you here.”

“Show us with your actions,” she giggles, sitting more relaxed. “Many men don’t receive such…otherwordly opportunities. Use it well.”

Exhale and wipe your tears, nodding firmly. “I will. For me, and for her.”

Doyeon exhales as well, glancing at you with a small smile. “Farewell, Artur Noronha. Safe travels.”

“Farewell.”

The train reaches the Albrecht Tunnel. The wind isn’t as intense as it was all those cycles ago, its strength more inline with what you’ve experienced with tunnels. Some particles get caught in your eye, shut them and rub it away. When they’re open, she’s gone, vanished with no traces whatsoever.

Emerging out the other side, you leap to your feet, searching for the conductor. Find him one two cars ahead, observing the coupler to the locomotive. “Conductor?”

“Ah, what brings you out here, mister? Anything I can help you with?” he asks, surprised but warm.

“Am I allowed to disembark before the station on my ticket?”

He furrows his brows and hums. “Well, there is nothing prohibiting it, to my knowledge. But why would you do such a thing, mister? It’s a loss to you and your coin. A particularly great loss with how far your station is.”

You smile and nod, perusing the rolling landscape. “I have a different train to catch, as it turns out.”

“Is that so? Where to? I could be of assistance in that regard.”

You laugh freely. “No idea.”

Steam hisses from the pistons, whistle blares as the train pulls out of Darmstadt am Gelbbach. “I wish you an expedient journey, mister! Godspeed!” the conductor yells over the noise, waving his hat. 

Fuck you’re so tight. You whisper to your monthly budget after spending three thousand dollars. You then realize it is in your best financial interest if you just died yesterday.

That’s what the plate costs. You’d balked at the number when you researched it, but then you’d calculated the potential return on investment and transferred the money anyway (you’re starting to feel like you don’t have a choice in Tsuki’s games). 

It’s just a month of eating nothing but instant ramen, all good.

Now you’re standing in the Park Hyatt ballroom, nursing champagne you’re forced to carry around, scanning the crowd for a woman you’ve never actually seen.

Kwon Eunbi. Runs the family’s venture fund. Daughter of Kwon Minjun, the shipping magnate who built an empire from a single cargo container and what your research politely categorized  “aggressive business practices.”

You’ve perused her resume. You know her role in this game of thrones. Her mask is still on and you’ve yet to see her true face.

She keeps a low profile which means no socials—no press conferences; a ghost to people who are not in the same tax bracket. The only photo you found was from a Harvard alumni newsletter, grainy and five years old, mostly obscured by a podium. Smart, probably. When your family’s net worth has eleven digits, anonymity is a luxury worth protecting.

Your phone buzzes. You’re not surprised anymore.

But this time it isn’t Tsuki.

Kim Jiwoo · Seoul Financial Review · Voicemail (3)

Three voicemails. Three. From a journalist whose byline alone makes lawyers nervous. This is fine. You silence the phone in your pocket and pull it out again, this time braced for what comes next.

般若: stop looking so constipated

般若: show them that you belong here

般若: act like it Akihiro-kun~

You glance around the room. She’s nowhere to be found. Of course, she’s never anywhere until she wants to be. You give up trying to figure it out.

You slide your phone in your pocket and try to actually look like you belong.

Nope. It doesn’t work. Who am I kidding?

Three people you recognize from past industry events have already done the classic Tokyo Sidestep: That maneuver when someone spots you; calculates the reputational cost of association; and then suddenly discovers the most fascinating painting on the opposite wall.

The gratitude of the finance world. So fickle. Truly heartwarming.

You’re contemplating whether the open bar is worth the walk across the room when someone appears at your elbow.

“You look like a man who’s doing math he doesn’t want to do.”

The words hit you like a slap. You turn, half-expecting dark eyes and that dangerous smile.

But the woman standing there is nothing like Tsuki.

“Sorry”, you manage. “What?”

She’s short. Barely reaches your shoulder, even in heels. But she carries herself like she’s six feet tall, shoulders back, chin lifted, taking up space in a way that makes you notice her despite her size. Her face is open and expressive, eyes bright with amusement, mouth curved into a smile that’s warm instead of cunning.

“You’re doing calculations.” She points and gestures at your face with her champagne glass. “I can see the spreadsheets running behind your eyes. Let me guess. Cost-benefit analysis of whether the networking potential justifies the plate price?”

“More or less.”

“The answer is no, by the way. The people worth talking to at these things don’t care about the gala. They come for the after-parties.” She extends her hand. Her grip is firm, warm, no hesitation. “Kwon Eunbi.”

Kwon…

Kwon!

Your brain, still hungover from a week of Tsuki’s games, takes a full three seconds to catch up. This is her. The daughter. The one Tsuki pointed you toward.

“You’re…”

“The chairman’s daughter. Yes.” She’s still smiling, and finally lets go of your hand. “And you’re Hinode Akihiro. The Ishikawa refugee father won’t stop talking about.”

“Your father…”

“Mentioned you, raved about you even. Multiple times over dinner, actually. Something about discretion, and restructuring and a man who actually reads the fine print.” She tilts her head, studying you so openly that it’s almost unsettling after Tsuki’s constant obscurity. “He said you seemed like someone who could be trusted. And hmm. I wanted to see that for myself.”

“And? What do you think so far?”

“Hmmm. I’m not sold yet.” She’s still smiling; the corner of lips reaches her eyes. “Buy me a drink or two and improve your odds.”

You’re already walking toward the bar before you realize you’re doing it. I hope she likes water because that’s all you can afford right now.

✦✦⟡⟡⟡⟡

She’s an animated yapper; talks with her whole face and her hands. 

That’s the first thing you notice. Everything she says comes with gestures: pointing, waving, occasionally touching your arm with her soft, warm hands when she’s making a point. 

Normally, it would be annoying. It isn’t; far from it.

“Harvard was a blast but academically, it was fine,” she’s saying, swirling her wine. “The MBA was useful. But true education was watching my father breeze through a hostile takeover when I was just fifteen: Boardroom politics, shareholder manipulation, the art of knowing which knife goes in which back—and when to twist it.” She grins. “You don’t learn that in business school.”

“Uh… Your father seems…”

“Ruthless? Yeah, of course he is. But, he is also fair, which I understand might be hard to believe.” She sets her glass down. “He’s a man who respects competence. Maybe that’s why he’s drawn towards you.”

“He doesn’t know me that well yet.”

“He knows your work. The Taniguchi restructuring, that was all you, wasn’t it? Everyone assumed it was Matsuda leading, but the footnotes told a different story.”

You blink. Closed your mouth you didn’t know opened. The Taniguchi deal was four years ago. Buried in the middle of your tenure, overshadowed by bigger clients, and flashier wins. You’d honestly forgotten anyone outside the firm even knew about it.

“Wait, how did you…”

“My father taught me that truth lives in what people don’t say out loud.” She leans in, conspiratorial, and you notice the curve of her neckline, the fullness suggested beneath her understated black dress. You look away before she catches you. “Font-size twelve is for show. It’s theatre. The real story is buried in font-size eight, where details are synonymous to the truth.”

“And what did you find buried about me?”

“That you’re thorough… you’re careful. That you caught three errors in the Taniguchi financials that could have tanked the whole deal, and you fixed them behind the scenes without stealing the show.” She sits back. “It’s a rare quality you showed there. Most people would have made a scene. You just.. Played your part. And you played your part well.”

Your shoulders drop. You hadn’t realized you’d been holding them so tight. 

“It wasn’t my intention to look noble,” you say. “I just wanted to get the job done, move on, and close the deal.”

“No need to minimize your accomplishments Hinode-san.” She flags down a waiter, orders something in rapid Korean that you don’t catch. “To pose as a noble man is easy. Literally anyone can look noble with an audience. Continuing to do so when no one’s watching? That’s the quality of a man I look for.”

The waiter returns with two small plates. Some kind of appetizer. Looks expensive, it has caviar on it so it must be. She pushes one towards you.

“Eat. You look like you’ve been running on coffee, instant ramen, and spite for a week.”

“I’m fine.”

“You’re clearly lying.” She picks up her fork, takes a bite, side-eyes you until you do the same. “There. Was that so hard Hinode-san?”

It wasn’t. The food is good—sooo fucking good. You’re famished, actually. It’s been the most normal food you’ve eaten in days. You’d skipped multiple meals just to save up for the plate fee.

“My father wants to meet you properly,” she says. “Not in this gala. Somewhere we can actually talk. I’m flying to Seoul on Wednesday. You should come with.”

“I… what?”

“You sound like I’m taking you hostage.” She laughs, nothing like Tsuki’s. Bright and loud and unbothered by who might hear. “It’s a business opportunity, Hinode-san. The family has some restructuring needs. Complicated, sensitive, the kind of thing that requires someone who reads between the lines and doesn’t make scenes.”

“You don’t know me all that well yet.”

“I know enough.” She meets your eyes; holds them. “The question is whether you’re willing to go tit-for-tat. Full disclosure, Hinode-san: I don’t do slow. So… are you in or should we go back to pretending we’re enjoying our time in this gala as just acquaintances.”

What is this? You’re taken aback by the directness. It’s the opposite of Tsuki: She’s not an abyss with the sole intention of manipulating you. Just a woman who knows what she wants and isn’t afraid to ask for it wholeheartedly.

“Why me?” you ask. “Your father could hire anyone, firms or people without scandals attached to their names.”

“Because the firms are slow and people who play safe are boring.” She leans forward, and you catch a hint of her perfume. Airy floral with a hint of citrus and musky notes; subtle, and expensive. Not loud, nothing you can name, like the whisper she imparts: “And I’ve talked with your old firm and one thing is consistent when they mention you: he’s good, but he’ll never make partner because he refuses to play the game.”

“That’s not a compliment at all.”

“Of course it is.” Her hand finds your arm again. “The game is rigged anyways. I don’t need someone who plays it. I need someone who wins despite it.” 

The words land somewhere deep and you just had to take a mental note on it.

“Before I give my answer. There’s something I’ve been meaning to ask.”

“You can ask me anything. Whether I answer is a different question.”

“Why venture capital? With your family’s resources, you could easily do anything. Run a division. Start your own company. Why spend your time evaluating other people’s dreams when you can just build on the foundations you already own?”

Her eyebrows lift. 

“Because building something from scratch is terrifying,” she says. “And I like being terrified.”

“That doesn’t make sense.”

“Sure it does. My father built his empire from nothing: Started with one shipping container, made a lot of friends and enemies, and faced it all head on. By the time I was born, we had everything. Money, power, the whole package. I’ve never had to struggle for anything in my life.”

“Most people would call that lucky, privileged, and being blessed.”

“Most people get it wrong.” She sets her wine down, her expressions stiffen. “I refuse to be a nepo baby coasting life carefree on comfortable ground. That’s how people get soft, weak, and they start believing they deserve things they never earned.” She picks up her glass, takes a sip, and leans back; watching you. “I’ve seen my cousins live like that. Drowning in money, no clue how to survive without it. I’d rather burn than end up like those pathetic losers.”

“So instead you chose the hardest path to get there?”

“I chose a path that scares me. Venture capital isn’t hard, it’s just math and trusting your gut instinct. But every investment is a bet. Every bet can fail. And every failure is mine. Not my father’s. Not my family’s. Mine.” She takes another sip of her wine. “I needed something that was mine.”

“Ishikawa wasn’t mine,” you say. “It only felt like it was. I gave it twelve years. I worked my ass off, but when everything fell apart… they cut me out like I was nothing. Like I’d never been there at all. Like everything I’ve done isn’t the reason why we’re up there in the first place.”

“That’s what happens when you build someone else’s house.” Her eyes lock in on yours. “You’re never going to do that again, are you?”

“No.”

“Good boy.” She finishes her wine. Sets down the glass with a decisive click. “Then we’re quite the compatible pair, aren’t we?”

Your heart did a thing. Your body who you’ve trusted all these years betrays you as well. Those combinations of words are not what you’d expect in this setting. 

You should really be saying no; ask for time to think. You should do the careful, logical thing that twelve years of professional discipline has trained you to do.

“Wednesday,” you say. “What time?”

Her smile could power a small nation.

“I’ll text you the details.” She stands, and when she stretches slightly you finally see her full figure. Compact but curved. Full bust straining subtly against understated fabric. Hips that move with confident purpose. She’s been hiding it well, but now that you’ve noticed, you can’t unnotice. “And Hinode-san? Wear something that fits. You’ve got the shoulders for a good suit. Stop hiding them in whatever that is.”

“This suit is fine.”

“That suit makes you look like a grandpa.” She’s already walking away. “I’ll send you the name of our tailor. Consider it a business expense.”

Why does everyone always have something to say about your suits?

She’s gone before you can respond.

You stand there, holding an empty champagne glass, trying to understand what just happened. A woman you’ve never met just offered you a lifeline, insulted your wardrobe, and walked away like she owned the room. (She probably does own this room—or her family does at least; you figured it’s the same thing.)

Your phone buzzes.

般若: good boy~

般若: she’s exactly what you need

般若: stable, normal, everything I’m not, am I right?

般若: she’ll take good care of you

般若: in ways I won’t~

般若: oh and are you not curious about me yet, Akihiro-kun?

You stare at the screen. Then at the bustling crowd, where Eunbi has disappeared. Then back at the screen.

In ways I won’t.

What the fuck does that mean?

✦✦⟡⟡⟡⟡

Tsuki is waiting when you get home.

She’s sitting on your couch like she belongs there, legs crossed, one of your books open in her lap. The lamp casts warm light across her face, and for a moment you just stand in the doorway, keys in hand, too tired to even be surprised.

“The key under the fire escape,” you say. “Really?”

“You should find a better hiding spot.” She doesn’t look up from the book. “That’s the first place anyone checks.”

“Anyone who’s breaking in, maybe.”

“Anyone who’s paying attention.” Now she looks up. Those eyes. You notice it now in a way you didn’t before. At the bar, in the hotel, in the corridor, and here in your apartment. The same flat darkness, catching light wrong. Human eyes dilate with arousal, fear, interest. Hers don’t. “I pay attention.”

You close the door behind you. Drop your keys on the counter.

“That Kwon daughter,” you say. “That was all you, huh? You set that up.”

“Did I?”

“Don’t.” You cross the room, stop in front of her. “Don’t play games. Not tonight. I’m tired.”

She sets the book aside. Uncrosses her legs. Stands in one fluid motion, close enough that you can smell her. That dark sweet scent that’s haunted you for a week.

“You’re tense, Aki-kun” she says. Her hands find your chest. Presses flat over your heart. “I can feel it. All that anxiety, all that fear about what comes next, about Seoul, about whether you’re good enough.”

“I’m fine.”

“You’re lying.” She steps closer. Her body presses against yours. “But I can help with that.”

“How?”

“How about I take care of you tonight.” Her fingers work at your tie, loosening it. “Let me remind you what you’re capable of.”

“That’s not an answer.”

“Well. It’s the only answer I’m giving.” She pulls the tie free. Drops it on the floor. “Do you want me to stop?”

You should say yes. You should demand explanations, answers, something that makes sense. You should—”

“No.”

“Good boy.”

She kisses you. Hard. Hungry. Her tongue slides against yours and her hands are everywhere, pulling at your shirt, your belt, anything between her skin and yours.

“I’ve been thinking about this all week,” she breathes against your mouth. “Thinking about how you tasted. How you sounded when I had you in my mouth.”

“Tsuki—”

“Shhh.” She pushes your shirt off your shoulders. Her nails rake down your chest, just hard enough to sting. “Stop talking and just…” She drops to her knees. Your belt is already undone. She pulls down your zipper, frees your already throbbing cock from your boxers, and looks up at you with those flat dark eyes.

“Look at you,” she murmurs. “Already aching hard for me. Already. This. Desperate.” She wraps her hand around your base, strokes slowly. “Did you touch yourself this week thinking about me Aki-kun?”

“Yes.” The words come out strangled.

“How many times?”

“I don’t—”

“How many times, Akihiro?” She squeezes. Just enough pressure to make you gasp. “Three. Maybe four.”

“Did you come?”

“No.” You hadn’t let yourself. It felt wrong. It felt like cheating. “I couldn’t.”

“Because you knew, all this belonged to me.” She strokes again. Twists her wrist at the top.

“Your cock. Your cum. Your pleasure. All. Of. It. Mine.”

She leans forward and licks a stripe from base to tip. Slow. Savoring. You shudder.

“Tsuki—”

“I love the way you say my name.” She swirls her tongue around your cockhead. You start almost chanting her name like a prayer—barely coherent; like you’re begging but words won’t form.

She takes you in.

Hot. Wet. Her mouth is impossibly soft, you swear it’s borderline illegal how her tongue moves, and she takes you deep, deeper than should be comfortable, until you feel the back of her throat and she swallows around you.

“Fuck—” Your hands find her hair. Grip without meaning to. She moans around your cock. The vibration makes your knees buckle.

She pulls back just enough to speak, lips brushing your top. “That’s it. Feel free to fuck my mouth. Take what you need.”

“I don’t want to hurt—”

“Don’t worry, you won’t.” She looks up at you through dark lashes. “I can take it. I can take anything you give me.” She opens her mouth. Sticks out her tongue. Looks at you directly with her dark eyes. Waits.

You thrust.

Shallow at first. Testing. But she moans encouragingly, her hands gripping your hips, pulling you deeper. So you thrust again. Harder. And again. Until you’re fucking her face with a rhythm that’s animal and desperate and nothing like the man you thought you were.

Spit starts to drop down her chin. Tears leak from the corners of her eyes. And still she takes it, takes all of it, making sounds that are wet and obscene and somehow grateful.

“God, you’re—” You can’t finish the sentence. Can barely form coherent thoughts. If this is how you die, then so be it. You’re nearing nirvana. “I’m going to—”

She pulls off.

Fucking hell.

“No.” She wipes her chin with the back of her hand. Stands. “Not yet Aki-kun.”

“Please, Tsuki.” The words come out broken. You’re so hard it hurts, cock slick with her spit, throbbing. “Tsuki, please, let me—”

“I know what you need.” She turns. Walks towards your bedroom. Looks back over her shoulder. “Come with me Akihiro.” You follow her with no hesitation.

She’s already undressing when you reach the doorway. Her dress pools at her feet. No bra. Just black lace panties that barely cover anything. Her breasts are full and perfect, nipples already hard, and she watches your face as you take her in.

“See something you like?”

“Everything.”

“Good answer.” She lies back on your bed. Spreads her legs. Hooks her thumb into her panties and slowly, torturously, slides them down her milky thighs. “Your turn.”

You strip. Practically tear off your remaining clothes. Stand at the edge of the bed, naked and aching, and she looks at you like you’re exactly where she wants you. “On your knees boy,” she says. “I want that mouth of yours on me.”

You kneel. She’s already wet, glistening in the low light, and when you lean in and breathe against her, she shivers. 

“Stop teasing Aki-kun,” she warns.

Your tongue navigates through her already soaked folds and when it finds her clit she gasps, her hips jerking up off the mattress.

“Yes,” she breathes. “Right there. Just like that.”

You eat her like you’re starving; like she’s the first meal you’ve had in weeks. You learn the rhythm she responds to, the pressure, the way she cries out when you suck her clit and push two fingers inside her.

“Fuck. Aki-kun~” Her hands find your hair. Pull hard enough to hurt. “That mouth of yours is so good, so fucking good, don’t stop, don’t you dare fucking stop—” You don’t plan on stopping any time soon. You work her with your tongue and your fingers until she’s shaking, until her thighs are clamped around your head and her moans have become one long continuous sound.

“I’m going to come,” she gasps. “I’m going to—oh god—”

She breaks.

Her whole body seizes, cunt clenching around your fingers, her cry sharp enough to echo off the walls. You work her through it, gentler now, drawing out every aftershock until she’s pushing you at your shoulders.

“Enough.” She’s panting. Flushed. “Enough. Come here.”

You crawl up her body. She kisses you, tasting herself on your lips, and wraps her legs around your waist.

“I want you inside me,” she whispers. “I’ve wanted it since that first night. Wanted to feel you stretch me, fill me to the brim, fuck me until I can’t think.”

“Then let me—”

“Just. Kidding~”

She pushes you off. Rolls you onto your back. Straddles you, her wet heat hovering just above your cock, so close you can feel her.

“Not tonight Aki-kun.” She rocks her hips. Your cock slides through her folds, slick and hot, the head catching against her entrance on every pass. “Tonight you learn.”

“Learn what?” 

“That I decide when you get to come.” She reaches down. Takes your cock in her hand. Positions you right at her entrance, just barely pressing in. “That I decide how much you get. That every time you close your eyes in Seoul and think about what you want, you’ll think about this—” She presses down. Just the tip slides in. You nearly black out. “—about how close you were. About how good it would have felt.”

She lifts off. Completely. Your cock slaps against your stomach, wet, and desperate, and denied.

“No.” She’s already climbing off the bed. “That’s enough for tonight.”

“Tsuki—”

“Hush.” She picks up her dress. Pulls it on like nothing happened. Like you’re not lying there ruined. “Go to Seoul. Meet her father. Let her take care of you.”

“And then?”

“Then come back to me~” She pauses at the doorway. Looks back over her shoulder with those flat, dark eyes. “I’ll be here.”

“What are you?”

She smiles. Lips closed. Her face is unreadable.

“I’m what you can’t stop wanting. No matter what happens, some part of you will wish it was me.”

Then she’s gone.

You lie there on your bed, cock aching, body thrumming with denied release, more confused than you’ve ever been in your life. Her underwear from the networking event is still in your dresser drawer. You never threw it away.

You don’t touch yourself tonight either.

✦✦⟡⟡⟡⟡

般若: looks like your flight is at noon

般若: nice suit, her tailor?

般若: oooh, that’s expensive~

般若: did you get a sugar mommy now?

般若: oh, and Aki-kun…

般若: try not to fall too hard, ok? (wink tongue emoji)

You stare at her texts until your screen goes dark. Then you close your eyes and try to sleep. You dream of nothing.

✦✦⟡⟡⟡⟡

Wednesday, 6:03 AM

Kwon Eunbi: Good morning! Here’s the flight details: KE706, Narita to Incheon, 12:15 PM

Kwon Eunbi: First class. My treat. Don’t argue.

Kwon Eunbi: 6:04 AM

You: That’s too generous. I can pay for my own ticket.

Kwon Eunbi: 🙄

Kwon Eunbi: No! I’m gonna reimburse this when we get there. Business expense!

You: What happened to refusing the life of a nepo baby?

Kwon Eunbi: 🙄🙄🙄

Kwon Eunbi: Consider it hazard pay then. You’ll be sitting next to me for a few hours. 

You: Hazard pay?

Kwon Eunbi: I’m a terrible plane companion. I don’t stop yapping 😜

Kwon Eunbi: Also I’ve been known to aggressively critique strangers’ work over their shoulders

You: I don’t think I’ll be able to do any work in the air anyways with you yapping beside me

Kwon Eunbi: Then you’re safe

Kwon Eunbi: Text me your address. Car will pick you up at 10.

Kwon Eunbi: See you soon, Hinode-san

You set your phone down. Stare at the ceiling.

Try not to fall too hard.

Too late for that.

✦✦⟡⟡⟡⟡

By noon, you’re in a window seat watching Tokyo shrink beneath the clouds, and Eunbi beside you with a laptop open, running numbers that would make most CFOs weep.

“Stop watching me work,” she says without looking up. “It’s creepy.”

“I’m not watching you work.”

“Well if you’re not watching me work, then you’re watching something.” She glances over; catches you staring at her hands. You can’t help but do so: the way her fingers almost glide across the keyboard, quick and certain; like each character she inputs has already been considered. “Ah. The hands thing. My ex used to do that too.”

“The hands thing?”

“Apparently I have ‘pianist hands.’” She wiggles her fingers. “I can’t play piano, for the record. Complete waste of good genetics. I wonder what it’s good for though.”

“I wasn’t…”

“You were. It’s fine. I get that a lot.” She closes the laptop. Gives you her full attention. “Talk to me. You’re nervous.”

“Of course I’m nervous. I’m meeting your father. This will be my first job ever since leaving Ishikawa.”

“You’re meeting my dad. A potential client that already thinks of you highly.” She shifts in her seat, angling toward you. “You’re going to be fine. You’ve already passed the first test. Stop catastrophizing.”

“I’m not catastrophizing.”

“Your legs say otherwise.”

You look down. It has. Goddamnit.

“I don’t do well with… uncertainty.”

“Then you’re going to hate this, because nothing about working with my family is certain, like at all.” She says it matter-of-factly; no apology. “We’re extremely complicated. We fight. We scheme. Oh, we scheme a lot, you’re not gonna hear the end of it. Half of my cousins want my father’s job and the other half want him dead. It’s like Game of Thrones but with better skincare.”

“Yeah, that’s totally reassuring.”

“It should be. If I wanted safe, I would have hired literally anyone else, you know.” She reaches over; squeezes your hand once, then lets go. “I want someone who can handle messy. Who doesn’t flinch when things get ugly.”

“And you think that’s me?”

“I think you survived Ishikawa and you walked out of that building with your integrity intact, which is more than most people manage. And I think…” She pauses; studies your face with an intensity that makes you want to look away. “You look like someone who’s tired of playing defense. You’re ready to fight again. You just need someone to point you at the right enemy.”

Fight.

That word again. Tsuki said the same thing. That first night. After she left you aching in the hotel room.

“Is there anything wrong? You’re making a weird face,” Eunbi says.

“What face?”

“It looked like you zoned out there, like you’re somewhere else.” She doesn’t seem offended, just curious. “Where do you go? When you check out like that?”

“Nowhere important.”

“Liar.” But she doesn’t push. Just flags down the flight attendant and orders two whiskeys. “Drink with me. It’ll make the rest of the flight less boring.”

The whiskey arrives. You both drink. The silence isn’t awkward exactly, but it’s become weighted. You’re both starting to feel a bit more loose too. The alcohol doing its job.

“Can I ask you something more personal?” you say.

“You can, but I reserve the right to deflect with humor.”

“What do you do for fun?” Her face changes; like she’s expecting a punchline from you. “When you’re not reading financial records and terrorizing your cousins.”

She laughs without restraint. Surprised, maybe, that you’d ask.

“I watch the worst reality TV shows imaginable,” she admits. “The trashier the better. Singles Inferno, The Bachelor, dating shows, anything where people make increasingly dramatic poor life choices.”

“Really? But why reality tv, specifically?”

“Don’t sound so shocked. I spend all day making rational decisions. Sometimes you need to watch someone throw wine at another person because they’re being a bitch.” She takes a sip of her whiskey. “What about you? What does the Hinode Akihiro do when he’s not staring at spreadsheets?”

“I used to rock climb before everything fell apart.”

“Used to?”

“Hard to motivate yourself when you’re not sure what you’re climbing toward.” You swirl your drink. “Now I mostly drink and read. I must sound so fucking miserable, huh?”

“That’s the saddest thing I’ve ever heard.”

“Thank you. I’m cultivating a specific aesthetic.”

“Brooding middle-aged accountant?”

“Hey, I’m not that old.”

“Brooding almost-middle-aged accountant.” She grins. “It’s a good look. Very Mr. Darcy energy.”

“I don’t know who that is.”

“Oh, what the heck do you read? You are absolutely getting a reading list.” She pulls out her phone, starts typing. “Pride and Prejudice. Mandatory. No arguments.”

“I don’t… I mostly read self-help books.”

“Eew. Self-help books? No. You don’t need that at all. You’re changing that, now. No further arguments.” She looks up. Mock-stern. “This is happening, ok? Consider it part of your professional development.”

“How is reading a two-hundred-year-old romance novel professional development?”

“It’s about a smart woman falling for a man who’s terrible at expressing emotions but secretly has a good heart. Very applicable to our working relationship.”

“Which one am I in this scenario?”

“Not sure yet.” But she’s giving you the biggest smile. “Probably Darcy. You’ve got the brooding down.”

You laugh uncontrollably. You haven’t laughed like this in a while. It surprises both of you.

“Oh and by the way, my father will ask about your failures,” Eunbi says as the seatbelt sign dings on. “Not your successes—he already knows those. He wants to know how you handle losing.”

“What should I tell him?”

“The truth. He can smell bullshit from three prefectures away. So, don’t even try.”

“What if the truth makes me look bad?”

“Then at least he’ll know you’re honest.” She smiles and it’s so different; so warm and unguarded. “That’s infinitely worth more than looking good.”

You swear your heart skipped a beat, but it could as well be the whiskey playing tricks on you. It has enchanted you a couple of times, you might as well not know the difference between fantasy and reality with it in your system.

The plane touches down. And as you taxi toward the gate, watching Seoul sprawl beneath the overcast afternoon sky, you realize something.

You haven’t thought about Tsuki at all in almost three hours.

✦✦⟡⟡⟡⟡

The meeting with Kwon Minjun goes surprisingly better than you deserve.

He’s smaller than you expected. You swear he was a titan back at the networking event; maybe clout in a public setting grows you a few inches.

His place reflects him very well. High ceiling, wood-paneled walls, dim warm lighting, and a single window with a serene view of the river. Modern interiors mixed with traditional accents. One wall has a glass case with three masks mounted. Two are masks you recognize from the textbooks. The third is a Hannya. Female’s face, twisted between rage and grief, small horns curving from the forehead. 

It’s an artform that eludes you but seeing it somehow evokes some kind of fight or flight. You’ve seen it before. The hotel hallway, the night Tsuki took you upstairs. You were not sure what it was called then.

Minjun catches you looking. “My wife’s. She was into traditional Japanese folklore.”

“Was?”

“She passed, twelve years ago.” A pause. “Some of her collection ended up in my office. I look at them more than I should.”

You’re not sure why but that information feels useful, you file it away for now.

He spends the first thirty minutes asking about everything except your business: Your family. Your education. The book you’re currently reading (you’re currently realizing how much of a bookworm this family is, not that it’s a bad thing but it’s making you rethink your current collection.)

Whether you prefer mountains or oceans:

“Mountains,” you answer. “The ocean is vast and deep, it reminds me of how small I am.”

“And mountains don’t?”

“They do but mountains at least make me feel like there’s something worth climbing.”

He laughs at that; a short, surprised sound. He looks at Eunbi, who’s been watching from the corner of the room with barely concealed amusement.

“Tell me about the day you decided to ‘leave.’ Ishikawa”

You set down your tea. “It wasn’t my decision, I was basically forced into it. I resigned because the alternative was being laid off.”

“That’s not what I asked.” His face switched into serious-mode; first time this happened throughout the conversation. “I asked when you decided. There’s a difference between resigning and choosing to resign. You made the call before HR did. I want to know when.”

You think. Honestly. “There was an incident two years ago… An arrangement I helped structure. I had questions but decided not to ask them. When I recalled that I knew I wasn’t fully innocent.”

A long pause. “Then we understand each other.” A pause. “You were right,” he tells Eunbi. “This man is interesting.”

“Father, I’m always right,” Eunbi says. “You should remember that.”

The business discussion happens over dinner: Three hours of restructuring proposals, tax implications, family trust complications that would make a lesser accountant wet their pants and cry themselves to sleep. You take notes on your phone. Ask questions that got Minjun to pause and reconsider. By the time the last course arrives, you’ve outlined a preliminary strategy that addresses concerns he hasn’t even voiced yet.

“Incredible! You’re really good at this, huh, young man?” he says.

“I try, sir.”

“Alright, we’re done for today.” He stands, signaling to everyone in the room that the meeting is over. “My daughter will handle the details. I look forward to working with you, Hinode-san.”

He leaves. And suddenly you’re alone with Eunbi in a private dining room that probably costs more per hour than your rent for the whole year.

“That was terrifying,” you say.

“That was him at his nicest.” She’s grinning. “He usually makes people feel dumb and have them cry by the second course. You made it to dessert with no speck in your eye. That’s impressive.”

“You really think so? I think I blacked out for a better part of it.”

“You didn’t. You were brilliant. Be proud of yourself, I am.” She stands, stretches. The movement pulls her dress tight, and you see her full figure now without obstruction. Compact but curved. The kind of body that expensive clothes are designed to downplay and now you’re suddenly very aware of. “Come on. I’m starving.” 

“Huh? We just ate dinner.”

“We ate business dinner. That doesn’t count. Pretty much empty calories. I know a place nearby that cooks real food.” She’s already heading for the door. “My treat. Don’t argue.”

“You’re going to bankrupt yourself treating me to things.”

“I’m worth eight hundred million dollars, Akihiro. I think I’ll survive buying you food.”

You follow her out into the Seoul night.

(Eight hundred million. You can’t even conceptualize that number.)

(Also: she called you Akihiro. Not Hinode-san. You noticed. Progress. You’re not sure why you’re tracking progress suddenly.)

✦✦⟡⟡⟡⟡

The “place nearby” turns out to be a pojangmacha. A street tent with plastic chairs and a woman who greets Eunbi by name.

“They know you. You come here often?”

“When I need to feel normal and when I want actually good food.” She orders for both of you in rapid Korean. “Tteokbokki. Kimbap. Soju. The essentials.”

“Eunbi-ah,” the woman says, swatting at her arm with a kitchen towel. “Where have you been? You don’t visit auntie anymore.”

“Auntie, I was here last Friday.”

“Aigoo~ You’re getting thin-ah! I’ll give you extra, eat more! Eat more!” She squints at you. “Mmm. He’s new.”

“He’s working.”

“Working at what?”

“Numbers.”

The woman makes a face like numbers personally offended her. “Sit! Get comfortable. I’ll bring you what you should eat. Not whatever you ordered.” She walks off.

Eunbi turns to you. “She’ll feed you something with intestines. Don’t react.”

“Noted.”

“Also, she might ask if we’re married. Just go along with it.”

You wait for the smile to break. It doesn’t. “Are you serious?”

“It speeds up the meal, and they give us more servings because of it.”

The food arrives fast. It’s spicy and cheap and perfect. Everything you’ve been missing this past few hours.

“So,” she says, pouring soju into tiny glasses. “You survived my father. You good? How are you feeling right now?”

“Like I just ran a marathon while someone asked me increasingly personal questions.”

“That’s accurate.” She hands you a glass. “To surviving.”

You drink. The soju burns.

“Can I ask you something?” you say.

“You’re asking that a lot today. But sure.”

“Why are you doing this? The dinner. The streetfood. The…” You gesture vaguely at everything. “You could be anywhere. With anyone. Why are you eating intestines with a disgraced accountant?”

“You’re not disgraced, don’t be dramatic. You’re just… undergoing a transition in your career. There is a clear difference.”

“Well, the world doesn’t see it that way.”

“The world is… well, frankly it’s stupid.” She takes another drink. “And I’m doing this because I like you. Is that so hard to believe?”

“Honestly? Yes.”

“That’s the saddest thing you’ve said yet.” She pours more soju. “You know what I think? I think you’ve spent so long performing competence that you’ve forgotten people might actually just enjoy your company.”

You nod. “That’s a good theory.”

“It’s a fact you dum-dum. You’re funny. You’re smart. You ask good questions and you actually listen to the answers. Most men I meet spend the whole conversation calculating: my net worth, my cup size, or what I can do for their career. It’s exhausting.” She meets your eyes. “You’re also present; like, actually in the room with me instead of three moves ahead. Do you know how rare that is for a man nowadays?”

You don’t know what to say to that. So you drink instead and gulp the burning alcohol.

“I should show you the apartment,” she says eventually. “It’s getting late, and tomorrow’s going to be a long day.”

“What do you mean apartment, huh?”

“Where you’re staying. Family guest suite. It’s nicer than a hotel and the kitchen is stocked.” She’s already standing, leaving won on the table and waves farewell to the auntie with her signature big smile. “Plus it’s attached to my suite, so if you have any questions about tomorrow’s meetings, I’m right there.”

She’s… right… there…

You follow her into the Seoul night, feeling something you haven’t felt in weeks.

Hope, maybe. Or something that resembles it.

✦✦⟡⟡⟡⟡

The Kwon family apartment is less an apartment and more a penthouse that happens to have multiple apartments inside it. Your ‘guest suite’ has two bedrooms, a full kitchen, and a view of the Han River that looks like a postcard. People would kill to get this vantage point.

“This is the small one,” Eunbi says, watching your face as you take it in. “My father’s is upstairs.”

“Seriously? The small one.”

“I know. It’s too much.” She doesn’t sound bothered. “Bathroom’s through there. Kitchen’s stocked, feel free to take anything. I’m through that door if you need me.”

She points to a connecting door between the suites.

“Get some rest,” she says. “Tomorrow’s going to be a long day.”

“Eunbi…”

“Hmmm?”

“Thank you. For today. For… all of it.”

She looks at you. The sharpness leaves her face for a moment. She looks warm.

“You don’t have to thank me. This is all just business.”

“Is it?”

The question hangs there. She doesn’t look away.

“Get some rest now Akihiro,” she says again. Way softer this time.

She disappears through the connecting door. You hear it click shut behind her.

You shower. Change into the one nice pair of pajamas you packed. Lie down in a bed that’s too comfortable, in a room that’s too big, in a life that suddenly makes no sense.

Your phone buzzes.

般若: sooo… how was daddy kwon?

般若: did he make you cry?

般若: mhmmph~! no response. it means you’re either sleeping or sulking

般若: either way~

般若: sweet dreams, aki-kun

般若: don’t think about me too much 💋

You turn off your phone. Press your face into the pillow, cool and soft to the touch.

You dream of dark eyes, dangerous smiles, and the sound of your own name; distorted and mocking.

Akihiro-kun.

Aki-kun.

Akihiro.

✦✦⟡⟡⟡⟡

Day Two in Seoul

Another day. Another opportunity to kill it; or yourself. You haven’t decided yet but work today went well at least.

You spend the morning going through different files with Eunbi, untangling the Kwon family’s trust structures, finding the pressure points and leverage opportunities. She’s extremely sharp, sharper than you expected, catching details you miss and building on your insights.

By afternoon, you’ve developed a preliminary framework. By dinner, you’re finishing each other’s sentences.

“This cousin here, Wonbin, he’s the problem,” you say, pointing at a family tree scrawled on a hotel stationery.

“He’s always been the problem. But we can’t cut him out without destabilizing the whole eastern division.”

“What if we don’t cut him out? What if we give him something he wants more than a chairmanship?”

“Like what?”

“Autonomy. His own subsidiary. Let him feel like a king of a smaller kingdom instead of a prince in a larger one. Let him think he holds the cards.”

She stares at you. Dumbfounded. Proud. A mix of things. Then grins.

“You’re either brilliant or insane.”

“Those aren’t mutually exclusive.”

“No,” she says. “They’re not.”

She orders room service. You eat on the floor of her suite, papers spread around you like a nest.

“Can I ask you something?” she says.

“You’re asking that a lot this week.”

“Touché.” She sets down her chopsticks. “What happened at Ishikawa? What really happened? Not the PR bullshit that spread around.”

You’re quiet for a long moment. You’ve told this story before, to lawyers and HR and partly to her father. But you’ve never really laid it all out honestly.

“I didn’t know,” you say finally. “That’s the short version. The partners were running a scheme, using client accounts to funnel money into shell companies, and I didn’t know. I should have. The signs were all there, if you knew where to look. But I was so focused on my work, on making partner, that I didn’t see what was right in front of me.”

“That’s…That’s not your fault.”

“Isn’t it? I prided myself on catching what others missed. I was that guy. The one that reads between the lines. But I missed the biggest thing that’s happening in my own firm.” You stare at the mess of papers on the floor. “I think that’s what bothers me the most. Not that I lost my job. That I was so blind.”

“You weren’t blind. You were trusting. There’s a difference.”

“The result is the same.”

“No, it’s not.” She moves closer. Sits beside you instead of across from you. “Blind people don’t learn. Trusting people who get burned learn to be more careful next time. You’re not going to make that mistake again.”

“How do you know?”

“Because you’re already looking to be redeemed. You’re already questioning everything. You double-check every assumption. That’s not blindness. That’s someone who got hurt and refuses to get hurt the same way twice.”

You really don’t know what to say after that. So you don’t say anything.

She reaches over. Squeezes your hand. Lets go before it becomes something else.

“Well, we should get some sleep,” she says. “Tomorrow’s going to be long.”

“You said the same thing yesterday.”

“Every day with my family is long.” She stands. Offers you a hand up. “Come on. Out of my suite. You’ve got your own perfectly nice apartment to brood in.”

You take her hand. She pulls you to your feet. And for a moment you’re standing very close, close enough to see the flecks of gold in her eyes, close enough to feel her breath.

Neither of you moves.

“Goodnight, Akihiro,” she says. Softly.

“Goodnight, Eunbi.”

You walk to the connecting door. Open it. Look back.

She’s still standing where you left her. Watching you with an expression you can’t read.

You close the door behind you.

Your phone buzzes.

般若: still thinking about me Aki-kun?

般若: good boy~ ♡

You turn off your phone and try to sleep.

You don’t dream of Tsuki tonight.

You dream of Eunbi instead. (Great. This. Whatever this is. It’s going to be a problem.)

✦✦⟡⟡⟡⟡

Day Three

You’re in a meeting room with three Kwon cousins arguing about a holding entity. Your phone buzzes in your pocket. You don’t check.

Later, in the bathroom, you look.

Kim Jiwoo · Seoul Financial Review: “I know you’re in Seoul, Hinode-san. I’m based here. Coffee? Twenty minutes anywhere you pick. I just want to have a conversation.”

You close the message.

Walking back to the meeting room you wonder briefly how the fuck she knows you’re in Seoul.

The day goes by with more work. A lot more progress. Extremely more time spent in her orbit, gravity pulling you close but not quite touching.

She brushes against you when she reaches for the documents. Her hand finds your arm when she’s making a point. Once, leaning over your shoulder to look at something on your laptop, you feel her breath against your ear and have to excuse yourself to get water. (The skinship that’s happening is beyond what you imagine.)

“You okay?” she asks when you return.

“Fine. Just needed to stretch.”

“You’ve been stretching a lot today.”

“I’m a stretchy person.”

“Who are you? Monkey D. Luffy?”

“No. Sorry. I just panicked.”

You both burst of laughter and the tension ratchets up another notch.

By dinner, you’re both avoiding eye contact.

“This is ridiculous,” she says finally. “We’re adults. I like you and you clearly like me. We can both acknowledge attraction like grown adults without making it weird.”

“Can we?”

“Apparently not, based on the last three hours.” She sets down her chopsticks. “Cards on the table. I find you attractive. I’m pretty sure you also find me attractive. We’re both single, we’re both consenting adults, and we’re going to be working together for the foreseeable future. So we need to decide how to handle this.”

“How do you want to handle… this?”

“I asked you first.”

“That’s… That’s not fair.”

“I never said I was fair.” She leans back in her chair. “Tell me what you want, Akihiro. No wrong answers. Just honest ones.”

What do you want?

If you really are being honest then… You want to kiss her. You want to pull her into your lap and find out what sounds she makes when she’s not the feisty venture capitalist that she is. You want to forget about Tsuki, about Ishikawa, about everything that’s happened in the last month, and just be present with someone who seems to actually see through you.

But you also know there’s something else. Someone else. A presence in your head that won’t let go, no matter how much you want it to.

“I want to figure out what I want,” you finally say. “That’s the honest answer. I’m attracted to you. I like spending my time with you. But there’s… something else. Something I’m still trying to understand. And until I do, I don’t think I can give you what you deserve.”

For a moment the room is filled with silence.

“That’s either the most honest thing a man has ever said to me,” she says, “or the most elaborate brush-off.”

“It’s not a brush-off Eunbi.”

“Then what is it?”

“A rain check.” You meet her eyes. “I’m not saying no. I’m saying not yet. Not until I can be fully present with you.”

She nods slowly; processing. 

“Okay,” she says. “I can work with that.”

“You sure you can?”

“I’m not going to force myself on someone who isn’t ready. That’s not who I am.” She stands. Starts aggressively gathering the dinner containers. “But I’m also not going to wait forever. Figure out your shit, Akihiro. Then let me know.”

She leaves the room. You hear her in the kitchen, washing dishes with more force than strictly necessary.

You don’t blame her.

✦✦⟡⟡⟡⟡

Day Four

Meetings all morning with various Kwon relatives, each more complicated than the last. Then a working lunch with Minjun where he asks pointed questions about your five-year plan and seem satisfied with your answers.

By evening, you’re exhausted. You order room service and eat alone in your suite, staring out at the river.

Your phone buzzes.

Kwon Eunbi: I owe you an apology

You: For what?

Kwon Eunbi: Last night. I was pushy. You set a boundary and I made it weird.

You: Don’t worry about it.

You: You didn’t make it weird.

Kwon Eunbi: I definitely made it a little weird. Let me buy you a drink to make up for it.

You: You’ve bought me a lot of drinks this week.

Kwon Eunbi: One drink. Connecting door. Bring your best brooding face.

You: I’ll be there in twenty

You shower. Change into a clean shirt. Tell yourself this is just a drink. (You know it’s not just a drink. She knows it’s not just a drink. You repeat it over and over inside your head, this ain’t just a drink, right? You’re clearly going insane.)

You knock on the connecting door anyway.

She opens it in silk pajamas. Hair loose. Face bare of makeup.

“Hi,” she says.

“Hi.”

“You came.”

“You asked.”

She steps aside. You step through.

The suite is warm. Jazz playing softly from somewhere. Two glasses of wine already poured on the coffee table.

“I was hoping you’d say yes,” she admits.

“What would you have done if I said no?”

“Drank both glasses myself and pretend it never happened.” She hands you a glass. “Sit. You’re making me nervous.”

“I make you nervous?”

“Everything about this makes me nervous.” She sits on the couch. Leaves space for you. “I don’t do this, you know. Invite men to my suite. Mix business with… whatever this is.”

“What is this?”

“I don’t know yet.” She looks at you. Those bright eyes, so different from Tsuki’s. “But I’d like to find out. If you’re willing.”

You should say no. You should protect her from whatever’s happening in your head, the presence that won’t let go, the unfinished business you have with someone you don’t understand.

But she’s looking at you like you matter. Like you’re worth the risk.

“I’m willing,” you hear yourself say.

She sets down her wine. Moves closer. Her hand finds your jaw, turns your face toward hers.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

“Because once we do this, we can’t undo it.”

“I know.”

“And I meant what I said. I don’t like sharing. If this happens, I need you here. With me. Fully present.”

“I’m here.”

“Are you?”

You kiss her instead of answering.

She makes a sound against your mouth. Surprised, maybe. Then her hands are in your hair and she’s kissing you back, and everything you’ve been holding back floods out.

“Wait.” She pulls back. Breathing hard. “Wait. I need to tell you something first.”

“What?”

“I haven’t—” She closes her eyes. Opens them slowly. “It’s been a long time. Years. I’ve been so focused on work, on proving myself, that I haven’t… this is the first time I’ve wanted anyone in a very long time.”

“Eunbi—”

“I’m not saying that to pressure you. I’m just saying it because I need you to know that this means something to me. I don’t do casual.”

You touch her face. Trace the line of her jaw.

“Neither do I.”

She kisses you again.

This time neither of you pulls back.

Her hands find the buttons of your shirt. She works them open one by one, her mouth never leaving yours, and when the fabric parts she runs her palms across your chest.

“Mhmm~” She pulls back just enough to look. “You’ve been hiding this.”

“I haven’t been—”

“Shut up.” She pushes the shirt off your shoulders. Kisses your collarbone. Your sternum. The hollow of your throat. “Let me enjoy this.”

You reach for her pajama top. She raises her arms and lets you pull it over her head.

God.

Her breasts are fuller than you expected. Heavy and round, nipples already hard, flushed pink against her skin. Nothing like Tsuki’s, which were pert and perfect and calculated to destroy you. Eunbi’s are generous. Soft. Extremely soft. The kind you want to bury your face in and willingly suffocate in.

“You’re staring,” she says.

“I can’t help it.” (You really can’t. Her body is a super massive blackhole and your eyes are getting pulled into it and your mind is in mid-spaghettification)

“Good.” She takes your hands. Place them on her breasts. “Don’t help it.”

You cup them. Feel their weight in your palms. When your thumb brush her nipples she gasps, arching into your touch, her eyes fluttering closed.

“Yes,” she breathes. “Like that. Fuck, like that—”

You lean down and take one nipple in your mouth. She cries out, her hands flying to your hair, pulling you closer. You suck. Roll the other nipple between your fingers. She writhes beneath you making sounds that are nothing like Tsuki’s. These are raw and real.

“More,” she gasps. “I need more—”

You kiss down her stomach. Hook your fingers into the waistband of her pajama bottoms and pull them down slowly, kissing each new inch of skin as it’s revealed. Her hips. Her thighs. The crease where her leg meets her body. She lifts her hips to help you, kicking the fabric away, and then she’s naked beneath you.

A gift from the gods unwrapped in its full glory. All of her. Curved and soft and warm and confident and… all yours.

“Your turn,” she says, reaching for your belt.

She undoes it with fumbling fingers. Pulls down your zipper. You help her get your pants and boxers off, and when your cock springs free she makes a sound low in her throat.

“Oh.” She wraps her hand around you. Strokes. “Oh!~”

“That good or bad?”

“That’s…” She gulped. “Good. That’s very, very good.” She strokes again, watching your face.

“I’ve been thinking about this since the plane. Watching your hands. Wondering how they’d feel.”

“Oh?” She slides off the couch onto her knees. “How does it feel so far?” Looks up at you with those bright eyes.

You fail to give her any sort of response from that assault.

“Let me taste you.”

Before you can respond, her mouth is already on you.

“Fuck,” you groan as she takes you deeper. “Your mouth—”

She hums around your cock. The vibration makes your hips jerk.

“You like that?” She pulls back just enough to speak, her lips brushing your tip. “You like my mouth on your cock?”

“Yes—”

She takes you deep again. Deeper. You feel the back of her throat, feel her swallow around you, and your hands fist in her hair.

“I’m gonna—if you keep doing that—”

She pulls off. Stands. Climbs onto your lap, straddling you, and before your mind catches up to what’s happening she’s reaching between you, positioning you at her entrance. She’s soaked. You can feel it. The head of your cock sliding through her folds, coating you in her wetness.

“Look at me,” she says. “I want to see your face when you finally stop calculating.” You look at her. Time stops. Seconds become years.

She sinks down.

“Oh fuck—” Her head falls back, her mouth open, her whole body trembling. “Christ. Christ, Akihiro. I had a number for this in my head and you just blew right past it.”

You try to find the right words in your head. She’s tight. Tighter than you expected, her walls gripping you, and wet, so fucking wet that you slide all the way to the hilt.

“Eunbi—”

“Shhh.” She rolls her hips. Adjusts. Takes a shaky breath. “Just—let me feel you. It’s been so long. Let me feel how deep you can go.”

“Eunbi—”

She starts to move. Slow at first. Finding her rhythm. Her hands on your chest, her eyes half-closed, making sounds that are high and breathless and abso-fucking-lutely real.

“You feel amazing,” she gasps. “Fuck, you feel—I forgot how good this could—You’re so big inside me—Fuck!”

You grip her hips. Start moving with her. She cries out.

“There—right there—don’t stop—please—fill me up—”

You don’t stop. You fuck up into her while she rides you, the sound of skin on skin filling the room. Her breasts bounce with every thrust and you can’t stop watching them, can’t stop thinking about how different this is from Tsuki. She controlled you, denied you access, always keeping you on the edge without ever letting you fall. But Eunbi is giving everything. All she’s got. Generous. Taking everything you have and giving it back twofold.

“Harder,” she moans. “Fuck me harder—”

You flip her. Put her on her back, her legs wrapped around your waist, and you pound into her tight pussy the way you’ve wanted to pound into someone for longer than you can remember.

“Yes—yes—yes—yes!” She’s almost chanting now, mindless, her nails raking down your back. “Just like that, please don’t stop, I’m gonna—I’m gonna—Fuck!”

She comes. Her whole body seizes, her cunt clamping down on you so hard you start seeing stars constructing whole constellations in your head. You fuck her through it, watching her face contort with pleasure, feeling her pulse around your cock.

“Don’t stop,” she gasps as soon as she can breathe. “Keep going. I told you I don’t do slow. I told you I don’t do half. Don’t make me a liar.”

“Turn around.”

She gives you the horniest grin. Wild. Hungry. The composed heiress is gone; this version wants to devour you.

She flips onto her hands and knees. Look back at you over her shoulder. And the view—fuck, the view. Her ass is round and peach-perfect, her pussy glistening and swollen, her spine curved in invitation.

“Like this?”

You grab her hips. She arches. God that arch. You push inside. She moans, dropping her head, pushing back against you.

“Oh God. There. Right—there. Akihiro, there.”

You fuck her like you’ve never fucked anyone else. Hard. Deep. Starved. Watching yourself disappear into her over and over. Watching her body shake with each impact. Feeling how tight she grips you with every thrust. She’s so wet you can hear it, slick and obscene, and her moans are building higher with every thrust.

“Yes—fuck yes—don’t stop—”

And then—

Something shifts.

Her hair looks darker suddenly. Her skin paler. The curve of her spine changes, becomes something more familiar, and when she looks back over her shoulder her eyes turn flat and dark and everything warm turns cold, everything bright turns dark, and—

Tsuki.

She’s Tsuki. Under you, taking you, moaning your name, and you’re fucking her the way you’ve wanted to fuck her for weeks, hard and deep, and desperate, and she’s finally letting you, finally giving you what she’s been denying—

“This is what you’ve been wanting, Aki-kun,” Tsuki croons. “Take. Take it. I let you, this once. Don’t think I won’t take it back.”

You slam into her. Feral. Desperate. Angry. All the frustration of the past week pouring out. She takes it, takes all of it, crying out with every thrust, and you’re so close, so fucking close—

“Akihiro—”

It shifts again. Eunbi’s voice. Eunbi’s face. Eunbi’s body. The vision shatters.

You freeze. Heart pounding hard. Cock still throbbing inside her. (What the fuck was that?!)

“Akihiro please don’t stop,” she gasps. “God, don’t stop, I’m so fucking close—”

You force yourself to move. Force yourself to be present. This is Eunbi. This is real. She is real. Her warm, soft body. Her genuine moans. Her need that matches your own.

Stay here, stay with her.

I’m gonna cum again,” she warns. “Fuck I’m gonna—”

She does. Harder than before. Her whole body convulses, her cunt milking you, and this time you finally let yourself go with her. You bury yourself to the hilt and come, pumping your seed into her, filling her up while she shakes beneath you.

“Oh fuck—” She’s still trembling. “Oh fuck, I can feel it—you’re cumming so much—so warm”

You collapse on top of her. Both of you panting. Both of you wrecked.

“Holy shit,” she breathes.

“Yeah.”

“That was…”

“Yeah.”

She laughs. Breathless. Turns her head to kiss you sloppily.

But she’s not done. After a minute, she pushes you onto your back. Your cock is still half hard, slick with her wetness and your cum, and she wraps her hand around it, stroking until you’re fully hard again.

“I told you,” she says, grinning down at you. “It’s been three years. I have a lot of lost time to make up for.”

She straddles you. Sinks down onto your cock in one smooth motion, and you can feel how wet she is, slick with you, dripping at each motion.

“Fuck, that’s hot,” she breathes, starting to move. “Feeling you inside me like this. Feeling how wet I am from you. Feeling your cum going deeper in me.”

She rides you slowly this time. Her hips rolling in lazy circles, her breasts swaying in your face. You watch them. Reach up and cup them, squeeze them, roll her nipples between your fingers.

“Yes,” she gasps. “Touch me. Take what’s yours. I love the way you touch my tits.”

You lean up. Take one nipple in your mouth. She cries out, her rhythm stuttering.

“Fuck—and your mouth—” You suck harder. She fucks you faster. Her moans building again, her walls tightening around you, and you can feel another orgasm building in both of you.

“I’m close,” she gasps. “Fuck, I’m close again—”

“Me too Eunbi.”

“Come with me.” She’s riding you frantically now, chasing it. “Come inside me again—I want you to fill me up—”

She comes. Clenches around you, crying out, and you follow her over the edge. Spilling into her for a second time, adding to the mess you already made inside her, and she collapses onto your chest with a satisfied groan.

“Jesus Christ,” she mumbles against your skin. “Where the fuck did you come from?”

“I don’t really know where I came from but just know that now, I feel like I’m in heaven.”

You laugh. She laughs.

“Well you and me both.” She lifts her head. Grins at you, sweaty and satisfied, your cum leaking out of her onto your thigh. “We’re doing that at least three more times before you leave.”

“I might actually die.”

“Worth it.” She kisses you, soft and sweet. Nothing like Tsuki. “Totally fucking worth it.” You hold her. Let yourself be held. You don’t mention anything about the vision.

You really don’t know how.

✦✦⟡⟡⟡⟡

She curls against your side, pulls the blanket over both of you, rest her head on your chest.

“That was so good,” she says, sleepy and satisfied. “I forgot how good that could be.” She traced patterns on your chest. “I was starting to think I’d forgotten how.”

“You definitely didn’t forget.”

“Good to know the equipment still works.” She yawns. “You’re staying in Seoul for another few days. My father has more meetings scheduled.”

“Okay.”

“And I cleared my calendar.”

“Okay.”

“And I’m keeping you.”

You should clarify. Set expectations. Manage whatever this is becoming.

“Okay,” you say.

She falls asleep within minutes

You lie there in the dark, listening to her breathe, watching Seoul glitter beyond the windows.

You’re thinking about the vision. About Tsuki’s face where Eunbi’s should have been.

No matter what happens, some part of you will wish it was me.

Some part of you does. You don’t know how to feel about that.

✦✦⟡⟡⟡⟡

The nightmare comes around 3AM.

Masks. Hundreds of them. The mask you saw from the hotel hallway when you first met Tsuki, multiplied across every wall of an endless room. Their faces shift, anguish to rage, to something that might be hunger, and they’re all watching you.

You try to run. The floor is soft, wet, giving way beneath your feet. Slowly eating you alive.

Laughter echoes from everywhere. High-pitched. Demonic. Distorted. Mocking.

“Aki-kun,” a voice croons. Tsuki’s voice, but wrong. “Where are you going, Akihiro-kun?”

You run faster. The masks lean down from the walls.

“Akihiro.” The voice is everywhere. Nowhere. “Did you think you could escape me?”

“AKIHIRO.”

You jerk awake. Heart pounding. Sheets damp with sweat.

Eunbi is propped up beside you. Her hand is on your chest.

“Nightmare?” she asks softly.

“I—yeah.”

“You were saying a name.”

Your blood goes cold.

“What name?”

“Tsuki.”

The word hangs between you. Heavy. Damning. (You’re fucking screwed)

“So that’s the mystery woman,” she says.

“Yes.”

She’s quiet for a long moment. Then she pushes the blankets aside and stands.

You see her in the low light. All of her. The curve of her spine, the fullness of her hips, her breasts swaying slightly as she moves. Even now, even in this moment, she’s beautiful. Unconsciously sensual in a way that’s nothing like Tsuki.

She walks to the bathroom. You hear water running. She returns with a glass, sits on the edge of the bed, offers it to you.

“Drink.”

You take the glass. Drink. Your hands are shaking slightly.

“How long has this been happening?” she asks. “The nightmares.”

“Since I met her. About a week ago.”

“That’s when you met me too.”

“I know.”

She nods. Processing.

“We all have our ghosts,” she says finally.

“Eunbi, I—”

“Don’t.” Her voice is gentle but firm. “Don’t apologize for your subconscious. You can’t control what you dream about.”

“It doesn’t bother you?”

“Of course it bothers me.” She takes the glass from your hands. Sets it on the nightstand. “But I knew what this was when I started it. I knew you were carrying something. I just didn’t know her name.”

“I’m sorry.”

“You better be.” She lies back down. But there’s distance now. Inches that weren’t there before. “Try to sleep. We can talk in the morning.”

“Eunbi—”

“Morning, Hinode-san. Everything makes more sense in daylight.”

She turns away. Not hostile. Just… done.

You lie there in the dark, watching the ceiling, feeling like you’ve broken something you didn’t know was fragile.

✦✦⟡⟡⟡⟡

Morning comes too early.

You wake to gray light and an empty bed. For a moment you think she left. But then you hear sounds from the kitchen.

She’s making coffee.

You find her at the counter, wearing nothing but one of your shirts. It barely covers her thighs. Her hair is mussed. She looks soft. Domestic. She looks like something you could have.

“Cream and sugar are on the table,” she says without looking up. “I didn’t know how you take it.”

“Black is fine.”

“Of course it is.” She pushes a cup toward you. Meets your eyes. “You look terrible.”

“Didn’t sleep well.”

“I noticed.” She takes a sip of her own coffee. Studies you over the rim. “I’ve been thinking.”

“About?”

“Last night. The nightmare. Tsuki.”

You wait.

“I like you, Hinode-san,” she says. “I think we could be good together. Professionally, personally, whatever. But I’m not going to be someone’s second choice.”

“You’re not…”

“Let me finish.” She holds up a hand. “I believe you when you say you don’t understand what’s happening with this Tsuki person. I even believe you when you say you want to be here, with me.”

“I do.”

“I know.” She sets down her cup. “But I also know what I heard last night. You weren’t just dreaming about her. You were terrified of her. And when you said her name…” She trails off. Shakes her head. “There was longing in your voice. Need.”

“I don’t know how to explain it.”

“Then don’t. Not now.” She takes another sip. “Here’s what I propose. The business arrangement stands. My father likes you. The restructuring work is real. I’ll make sure you get it, because you deserve it, and because it’s the right decision for the family.”

“But?”

“But this—” she gestures between you “—needs to wait. Until you figure out what you want. Who you want.”

“Eunbi…”

“Figure it out Hinode-san.” She says it simply. Without cruelty. “I mean that. Whatever this is, obsession, curse, trauma response, I don’t know, you need to figure it out. Not for me. For you.”

“And if I do? If I figure it out and come back?”

Her jaw unclenches. The sharpness leaves her face.

“If I’m still not taken then we’ll have a different conversation.” She reaches across the counter. Squeezes your hand once, then lets go. “I like you, Akihiro. More than I probably should. But I didn’t build a career by making exceptions for people who couldn’t even meet me halfway.”

“That’s fair.”

“I know it is.” She checks her watch. “You have a meeting with my father in two hours. The car will be here in ninety minutes. I suggest you shower.”

“Eunbi…”

“We’re okay.” She says it firmly. Like she’s decided it. “This isn’t goodbye. It’s just… a pause. Figure out your ghost. Then call me.”

She disappears into her bedroom before you can respond.

You stand alone in the kitchen of her penthouse you don’t deserve, drinking coffee that’s better than anything you’ve ever made, watching Seoul wake up beyond the windows.

Your phone buzzes. You check it more reflexively than expectantly.

Kim Jiwoo · Seoul Financial Review: Hinode-san. Following up. The Polaris piece is closing this week and I think we should talk before it runs.

You don’t answer. You don’t even read past the first line. You put the phone face-down on the countertop.

A minute later it buzzes again. This time you look.

般若: well done

Two words. Nothing else. You stare at the screen until it goes dark.

She knew. She always knows.

I’m what you can’t stop wanting.

You’re starting to believe her.

✦✦⟡⟡⟡⟡

The rest of the week passes in a blur of meetings, contracts, and careful distance.

Eunbi is professional, cordial, and warm; business associates type of warm. A hand on your shoulder during introductions. A smile when you make a clever point. Nothing that would seem out of place to an observer.

But she doesn’t touch you or look at you like she did that night. Whatever door opened between you, she’s closed it. Gently but firmly. You don’t push. You wouldn’t know how.

The work is solid. The Kwon family is complicated but you’re used to complicated (Eunbi wasn’t exaggerating comparing it to Game of Thrones, only unlike the show you’ve produced a better ending).

By Saturday, you’ve outlined a restructuring plan that will save them approximately twelve million dollars in tax liability while keeping the various cousins from actively murdering each other.

“Impressive,” Minjun says when you present it. “You work fast.”

“I had good information to work with.”

“My daughter said you’d be modest.” He signs the retainer agreement with a flourish. “She also said you were more interesting than you let on. I’m inclined to agree.”

You fly back to Tokyo that evening. Eunbi sees you off at the airport.

“Thank you,” you tell her. “For all of it.”

“Don’t thank me. This is business.” But she smiles when she says it. “Figure out your ghost, Hinode-san. Then call me.”

“And if I can’t?”

“Then you’ll have a very successful consulting career and a string of mediocre relationships.” She kisses your cheek. “But I don’t think that’s what you want.”

Your phone buzzes between you. Eunbi glances at the screen automatically. So do you.

Kim Jiwoo · Seoul Financial Review

“The Polaris journalist,” Eunbi says. “I know her.”

“She’s been emailing for weeks.”

“About Ishikawa?”

“About something else, she keeps saying. I haven’t found out what.”

Eunbi looks at you. Says nothing. Files the information away the way you’ve watched her file every other piece of information about you all week.

She walks away before you can respond.

Your flight lands at Narita at 8PM. You take the train home. Climb the stairs to your apartment.

The door is unlocked.

You know who’s waiting before you even step inside.

But when you open the door, what you find stops you cold.

Tsuki is on your couch. Same position as before. Same book in her hands.

She’s completely naked.

Every inch of her exposed. Pale skin glowing in the lamplight. Those full breasts you’ve only glimpsed before. The curve of her waist, the swell of her hips.

She doesn’t look up from the book.

Her mouth opens. Closes. Opens again.

“Welcome home, Aki-kun,” she says. “We need to talk.”

You don’t react. But you’ve never seen her hesitate. Three weeks of texts. Two encounters: the hotel and your apartment. The corridor. And you’ve never seen her need a second to find a word.

You don’t say anything about it.

You don’t think she noticed.

You stand in the doorway, frozen, unable to look away.

“Close the door, Akihiro-kun.” She finally looks up. Those flat, dark eyes. That dangerous smile. “You’re letting the cold in.”

✦✦⟡⟡⟡⟡

Aphrodite incarnate. A goddess coming to Earth. Chou Tzuyu is wearing a cream sweater that's stretched tight across her tits, and yoga pants that should be illegal. Her hair is up in a loose ponytail, with a few strands framing her gorgeous face. And she has the most sweet, most motherly smile on her face.

Anyone who hasn't seen her with lips stretched around a cock would fall for that image in a heart beat.

You, of course, know better.

"Oh you're here!" She gushes the cookie-cutter host greeting. "The girls are so excited—Diana! Hanna! Your friend is here!"

From deeper in the house you hear a faint "Mrow!"

Your sister visibly cringes. Even poor Tzuyu's bright smile falters slightly before she recovers.

"They're… going through a phase," Tzuyu explains weakly, stepping aside. Your sister sulks past like she's heading to her own execution, shooting you a venomous glare as she goes.

The second she's out of sight, Tzuyu's hand brushes yours.

"Coffee?" She asks, entirely too loudly for the empty hallway you're standing in, but her eyes are screaming a very different request. Something close to I need you to fuck me until I forget my own name.

"Yeah. Coffee sounds great."

"Perfect." The way she draws the word out, followed by her dragging her tongue across her lips, should damn well be considered foreplay.

From what you assume is the playroom, your sister's defeated sigh carries over to where you're standing, followed by synchronized meowing.

You purse your lips to contain your laughter as Tzuyu turns to the wall, tapping her forehead against it softly.

"Not. A fucking. Word." She murmurs.

You make a zipping motion across your mouth.

Tzuyu leads you to the kitchen. Those yoga pants hug the curve of her ass, outlining the thick thighs you've had the pleasure of being trapped between more times than you can count.

You're already plotting all the possible ways to get between them again today.

She pours two cups of coffee that you both know neither of you will touch. Her husband is at work as usual. The man is practically married to his job, which means Tzuyu is perpetually horny.

Not that you're complaining, of course.

"So," she starts, leaning against the counter in a way that makes her tits press together, "I was thinking—"

"Bedroom?"

Fuck the small talk. You both know why you're here, why bother with the bullshit game of cat and mouse?

Her expression changes instantly, that sweet, motherly mask cracking.

"Eager today, are we?"

"You sent me that photo during my lecture." You move toward her. "I've been hard thinking about those thick fucking thighs of yours the entire way over here."

She bites her lip, grabbing your shirt and pulling you close. "My bedroom. Now."

No need to say that twice.

"So impatient," you tease, but in no way shape or form are you complaining as she takes your hand and leads you out of the kitchen.

The stairs feel endless. Tzuyu keeps glancing back at you, tugging her bottom lip with her teeth, and you're becoming very tempted to say fuck it and rail her against the wall halfway up.

But the bedroom is probably smarter. And it has plenty of pillows for you to press her face into, which is a great bonus.

The second you're through the door, she's on you. Mouth crashing into yours, her hands pulling at your clothes, backing you towards the bed. You let her push you down onto the mattress, watching her stand over you, chest heaving.

Damn she's beautiful.

She climbs onto the bed, straddles your hips, grinds down against the bulge in your jeans. "You have no idea how badly I need this."

"Why don't you show me then?"

She doesn't bother answering with words.

Her hands find the hem of your shirt, pulling it up and over your head. You do your best to help, shrugging out of it. The second it's off she runs her hands down your chest, nails dragging lightly over your skin.

You reach for her sweater but she swats your hands away. "Patience."

"That's not my strong suit and you know it." You pout.

"I know." She grinds down harder, and you can feel the heat spreading through both layers of fabric. "That's why this is fun."

She leans down, mouth finding your neck. Kisses turn into bites, her teeth scraping against your skin. Your hands busy themselves by gripping her hips, fingers digging into the yoga pants.

"God I missed you," she murmurs against your throat. "Missed this."

"It's only been like three days."

"Exactly, three days too long." Her hands move to your jeans, popping the button. "I've been going crazy waiting."

The zipper comes down and she's working your jeans off, and you lift your hips to help. Once they're gone she sits back, taking in the sight of you in only your boxers, your cock straining against the fabric.

"Look at you," she purrs, palming you through the thin material as you hiss. "So hard already."

"Your fault," you manage.

"I know." The smirk on her face grows. "I'm very good at what I do."

She is. Too good, sometimes. You watch her lean down, hair falling around her face, and just before her mouth reaches your cock—

"Meow," you say.

She freezes.

Sits back up slowly.

The look on her face is full of murderous intent.

"What," she starts, voice barely a whisper, "did you just say?"

"I—" you start, but you're already laughing because the look on her face is just priceless. "I couldn't help it, the girls—"

"You think that's funny huh?"

Before you can react, she moves. Her hands shove against your chest, and she uses her weight to pin you down as those deadly thighs slide up on either side of your head.

Ah fuck.

"Oh, Tzu wait—"

Too late. They're locked around your skull.

The pressure is both immediate and immaculate. Warm, smooth skin pressing against your head, cutting off everything except the sight of her yoga pants stretched tight across her pussy right in front of your face. It's easy to see the damp spot forming.

Your hands fly to her thighs on instinct, gripping the firm muscle underneath.

"Think you're funny?" She squeezes harder. Stars dance at the edges of your vision. "Meowing at me in my own bedroom?"

You try to respond but what comes out is muffled against her skin.

"That's what I thought." She grinds forward, dragging the warm, damp fabric across your face, and you groan into her.

She's appears to be trying to suffocate you. Not that your dick has any complaints.

"Nothing to say now?" Another squeeze. Your vision starts going fuzzy. "No more stupid jokes?"

Your fingers dig into her thighs and you manage to turn your head just enough to press your mouth against her inner thigh.

She shudders and the grip loosens ever so slightly.

You drag your tongue along the inside of her thigh, and she makes a choked sound that manages to make your already rock-hard cock even harder.

"You're such a brat," she breathes, but there's no real anger anymore.

You hook your fingers into the waistband of those damn yoga pants and pull. She lifts her hips just enough to let you drag them down along with her panties, and finally, FINALLY, that pretty pussy is revealed to your gaze.

Beautiful.

Her pussy is bare, inches away from your face. It's glistening and swollen, her clit already peeking out.

"You going to suffocate me before I can eat this pussy?" Your voice comes out rough.

"Afterwards," she decides, lowering herself back onto your mouth.

The first taste of her makes you groan into her pussy. She's absolutely soaked, and you waste no time before getting to work, licking broad strokes through her folds before placing special focus on her clit.

Her thighs tighten around your head.

"Fuck—right there—"

You circle her clit with your tongue, then suck it between your lips. Her whole body jerks violently above you,

"Don't stop, don't you dare fucking stop—"

Yeah. Like you had any fucking intention of doing that.

You double down, sucking her clit even harder, your tongue working in tight circles. You can barely breathe with her thighs clamping your head like a vice, but god the way she's gasping above you makes it all worthwhile.

"Fuck, fuck, just like that—" Her hips start rolling, grinding her pussy against your mouth. She's chasing her orgasm, using you, and your cock is throbbing so fucking hard in your boxers its borderline painful.

You slide your tongue down, pushing it into her entrance. Her soaked pussy drips down your chin, the sweet taste of it making you drool. Your hands grip her ass harder, kneading as you pull her down onto your face.

"Oh god, oh fuck—" Her voice pitches higher. She's close, you can feel it. Her thighs shake, her pussy clenching around your tongue.

You pull back just enough to suck her clit between your lips again, and that does it.

Tzuyu cums with a loud cry, her whole body going rigid above you. Her thighs lock around your head so tight you can see the pearly gates, and her pussy pulses against your mouth dragging you straight back down into hell. You keep licking, keep sucking, drawing out her orgasm as long as you can while she shakes and gasps.

"Stop, stop, too much—" She's trying to lift her hips but you won't let her go that easily. You give her clit one more slow lick and she shudders, a choked whimper escaping her throat.

Finally she manages to pull away, swinging her leg over your head. She collapses beside you on the bed, her face flushed.

You wipe your mouth with the back of your hand, your entire lower face is covered in her.

"You're evil," she pants, throwing an arm over her eyes.

"You literally tried to suffocate me like 2 minutes ago, babe."

"You meowed at me."

"Fair."

She turns to look at you, and even post orgasm with her makeup ruined and her hair fucked up beyond all recognition, she's unfairly beautiful. Then her eyes slowly travel down your body to the tent in your boxers.

"Mm," she says, breathlessly, "That looks uncomfortable ."

"Yeah, no shit."

Her hand reaches over, palming you through the fabric. You hiss at the contact. "Aw, poor baby. You want me to do something about that?"

"I think you know damn well what I'm going to say to that."

She smirks, energy already back. Her stamina is fucking insane. "I don't know, maybe I should just leave you like this. Payback for the meowing. And you look so cute all desperate and worked up for me."

"Tzuyu—"

"I'm kidding." She sits up, grabbing the hem of her sweater. "Besides, I need you to fuck me. Right fucking now."

She pulls the sweater over her head and chucks it somewhere behind her.

No bra.

Of course there's no bra.

Her tits are perfect, full and perky in a way that seems to defy the very laws of physics.

You're staring. You know you're staring. She knows you're staring.

"See something you like?" She shimmies a little, a cocky little smirk on her face.

You consciously pick your jaw up off the floor before responding. "You know I do."

She leans down, kissing you hard. She can absolutely taste herself on your tongue, but she doesn't seem to give a singular fuck, licking into your mouth like she's trying to scrape every last drop out. When she pulls back you're both breathing hard.

Her hands go to your boxers, yanking them down. Your cock springs free and she wraps her hand around it, stroking slowly.

"God, you're so hard." She squeezes and you groan. "All for me?"

"Who else would it be for? Your husband?"

She smacks your chest. "Don't talk about my husband while I'm holding your dick."

"You brought him up last week when—"

"That was different." She cuts you off with another stroke, thumb swiping over the head of your cock. She spreads the leaking precum around, using it as lube.

"How was that different?" You grunt.

"Because I was winning that argument."

"You're always winning arguments when you have your hand on my cock. It's basically cheating."

"Pretty smart strategy though, isn't it?" She strokes you again, slow and torturous. "Keeps you from saying stupid shit."

"No I'm pretty sure I can still say some stupid sh—" Your thoughts scatter when she squeezes again. "Fuck, Tzuyu."

"That's what I thought, baby."

She lets go of your cock and you have to choke back a frankly embarrassing whine, but then she's moving. Swinging her leg over your hips, straddling you again. Her bare pussy presses against your shaft, the heat making you throb.

"I," She grinds down, sliding her wet pussy along your length, "Am going to ride you until you can't remember your own fucking name. Sound good?"

"Sounds fucking perfect."

She lifts her hips, reaching down to line you up. The head of your cock presses against her entrance. She's so wet you could slide in with ease, but she takes her time, lowering herself inch by torturous inch.

She's so, so fucking tight. It doesn't matter how many times you fuck her, it always feels like the first. Her pussy grips your cock like it was made for it, lips clinging to it like it's trying to suck you inwards.

"Fuck," she breathes, sinking down until you're buried completely inside her. She sits there for a moment, hands braced on your chest. "You feel so good."

"This is great. You do all the work and I just get to enjoy."

"Not for long." She rolls her hips, grinding on your cock, and you both groan. "Just let me enjoy this for a second."

"Take your time. I've got an amazing view."

And you do. Her tits right in front of your face, abs flexing as she shifts, those thick thighs spread on either side of you. Your hands find those thighs, gripping the firm muscle.

"Obsessed," she teases.

"Yeah, like any warm-blooded male wouldn't be."

She lifts up slowly, almost, almost letting the head slip out, then slams back down. You both moan at the sensation.

"Fuck, Tzuyu—"

"What's wrong baby?" She lifts up again, slow as can be, then drops back down hard. The slap of skin echoes through the bedroom. "Can't handle me?"

"I can handle plenty. You're just—fuck—."

She does it again, rising up until just the tip of your cock is inside her, then slamming down. Her tits bounce with the impact and you can't help but stare, mesmerized.

"Just what?" She teases breathlessly.

"Being a fucking tease."

"Oh, baby," she leans down nipping at your ear, "you haven't seen half of it."

Then she really starts moving.

Her hips roll in a steady pattern, rising and falling on your cock. Every time she drops down, you can feel her pussy clench around you. The sounds filling the room are obscene. The slick noise of her pussy taking your cock over and over, her moans, your groans.

Your hands move from her thighs to her hips, gripping hard enough to bruise. You help guide her movements, pulling her down a little harder each time.

"Yes, yes just like that—" Her nails scratch into your chest. It stings like hell but you frankly don't give a shit. "Your cock feels so fucking good."

"You're so tight," you manage. Coherent thought is becoming difficult. "So fucking wet for me."

"Always—oh fuck—always wet for you."

She's riding you faster now, chasing her own pleasure. Sweat forms on her skin, a drop rolling down between her breasts. You want nothing more than to lick it off but she's moving too fast for you to reach.

The bed is creaking under you. Somewhere in the back of your mind you remember the girls are downstairs but you can't bring yourself to care. Not when Tzuyu looks like this, head thrown back, mouth open, riding your cock like her life depends on it.

"Touch me," she gasps. "Play with my tits."

You don't need to be told twice. Your hands leave her hips to cup her breasts, thumbs brushing over her nipples. She moans, loud and shameless.

"Harder."

You pinch her nipples and she clenches around your cock so tight you nearly cum right there.

"Fuck, do that again—"

You oblige, rolling the stiff peaks between your fingers. Her pussy floods with wetness, dripping down your cock to your balls warm and slick.

"I'm close," she whimpers. Her rhythm is getting sloppy, desperate. "So fucking close—"

"Yeah? You gonna cum on my cock?"

"Yes, yes, fuck yes—"

You thrust up to meet her, matching her pace, the angle making her cry out.

"Right there, oh god right there—"

You do it again, driving up into her. Her whole body shudders.

"Don't stop, please don't fucking stop—"

Like you could stop now even if you wanted to. You're getting close too, that familiar feeling building at the base of your spine. But you want her to cum first. Want to feel her pussy spasm and clench around you.

You sit up suddenly, wrapping an arm around her waist to keep her steady. The position change makes her gasp. You can get deeper like this, and it finally allows you to capture one of those perfect nipples in your mouth.

"Oh fuck—" Her hands tangle in your hair, holding you against her chest. "Fuck, fuck, I'm gonna—"

You suck hard on her nipple and thrust up at the same time.

She cums with a scream, her pussy clamping down on your cock. You can feel her pulsing, gushing wetness soaking you both.

You slow your movements, letting her ride it out. Her forehead drops to your shoulder.

"Holy shit," she pants against your neck.

You're still rock hard inside her. Throbbing.

She notices with visible interest, clenching around you once to hear you grunt.

"Your turn," she breathes, pulling back to look at you with heavy lidded eyes.

You flip her.

One moment she's on top of you, the next she's on her back with you between her legs. She lets out a surprised laugh.

"Someone's eager."

"You got to cum. My turn."

You hook her legs over your shoulders, pushing them back toward her chest. The position makes her gasp, spreads her wide open for you. Those thighs press against your face and shoulders, warm and soft and absolutely perfect.

"Fuck, I love these thighs," you mutter, turning your head to kiss the inside of one.

"I'm aware." She's still breathless. "You never shut up about them."

"Can you blame me?"

You don't wait for an answer. You thrust into her, burying yourself deep. She's so wet from her orgasm that you slide in easily, and the sound she makes goes directly to your cock.

"Oh fuck—"

You set a hard pace immediately. Fucking her into the mattress while her thighs frame your head like a goddamn work of art.

"Yes, yes, harder—" Her hands grip the sheets. "Fuck me harder—"

You oblige. Each thrust makes her tits bounce, makes the bed creak louder. She's so tight around you it's almost painful, her pussy still sensitive from cumming.

"You feel so fucking good," you grunt, squeezing her thighs. Your fingers dig into the soft flesh.

"Don't stop, don't you dare fucking stop—"

You can feel your orgasm building. That pressure at the base of your spine getting harder and harder to push off. You're close. Too close.

You slow down.

"What—no, why are you—" Tzuyu looks up at you with desperation in her eyes.

"Just pacing myself." You roll your hips slowly, grinding deep instead of thrusting.

"I was getting close again," she whines.

"I know."

"You're such an asshole."

"You love it."

She does. You can tell by the way she's clenching around you, by that pout on her lips.

You pick up the pace again, just enough to make her moan. Your hands slide along her thighs, feeling the muscle flex as she tries to pull you deeper.

"Please," she gasps. "I need—fuck—I need you to fuck me properly."

"This isn't proper?"

"You know what I mean—"

You thrust hard, once, and she nearly sobs.

"Like that?"

"Yes! Just like that, please—"

You do it again. Then stop. Her pussy clenches around you in frustration.

"I hate you," she pants.

"No you don't."

"I'm going to kill you."

"With these thighs, I hope." You kiss her inner thigh again, scraping your teeth against the skin. She shudders.

"You're obsessed."

"Yep."

You start moving again, finding a rhythm that's just enough to keep you both on edge. Not enough to push either of you over. Her legs are shaking around your head, her pussy dripping down onto the sheets.

"Please," Tzuyu begs. The sound of her begging does something to you. "Please, I'm so close—"

"Not yet."

"I'm going to fucking—"

You thrust deep and grind against her, cutting off whatever threat she was about to make. She just moans instead, nails scratching desperately at your arms.

You're playing with fire. You know if you keep this up much longer you won't be able to hold back.

"I need to cum," you grunt. "Fuck, Tzuyu, I need to cum."

"Then cum." She pulls you down, her legs unwrapping from your shoulders to lock around your waist instead. "Cum inside me. Fill me up."

You drop down, bracing yourself on your forearms on either side of her head. You slide deeper.

"I'm close too," she whimpers. "So fucking close."

You kiss her hard. Your hips move on autopilot now, chasing the release you've been craving. The wet slap of your bodies fills the room, mixing with her moans and your grunts.

"Together," she gasps against your mouth. "Cum with me, please—"

Her pussy tightens around you. You can feel her getting close, that little flutter.

"Fuck, Tzuyu—"

"I'm gonna—oh god I'm gonna—"

It hits you both at the same time. You groan as your cock pulses inside her, pumping her full of cum, and you can feel her pussy clenching and spasming around you, milking every drop.

And because you're apparently an idiot with approximately zero self preservation—

"Meow," you moan into her ear.

For a second she's too lost in her orgasm to process it. Her body is still shaking, pussy still pulsing around your cock. You're both riding out the aftershocks, your cum leaking out around your cock because there's just too much.

Then she goes very, very still.

You're still buried inside her. Still trying to catch your breath. Your brain is fuzzy from the orgasm, a dopey smile plastered on your face.

Tzuyu's hands grip your shoulders. Tight.

She slowly, deliberately, pushes you off of her. You slip out with a wet sound, cum immediately spilling out of her onto the sheets. She sits up, and the look on her face makes your survival instincts finally kick in.

"Did you—" Her voice is dangerously quiet. "Did you just fucking meow while you were cumming inside me?"

Oh you're in trouble.

"I—"

"Did you?"

Your brain scrambles for something, anything that might save you.

"...meow?" you offer weakly.

Her eye twitches.

"You're dead."

"Wait—"

Too late. She's on you in a second, tackling you back onto the bed. Those deadly thighs wrap around your head again and this time there's no mercy. She's actually trying to kill you.

"You think you're funny?" She squeezes. Hard. "You think that's fucking funny?"

You try to answer but your face is pressed directly against her cum-filled pussy, your own load dripping onto your face. You're suffocating in the mess you made and honestly? You can't even complain.

"Meowing." Squeeze. "While cumming." Squeeze. "Inside me."

Your hands tap frantically against her thighs but she ignores it.

"What do you have to say for yourself?"

She loosens just enough for you to gasp out, "Worth it?"

That is, apparently, the wrong answer.

The thighs clamp back down with a vengeance. You're genuinely seeing the light now. Your vision is going dark at the edges.

But god, what a way to go.

Just when you think you might actually pass out, she releases you. You gasp for air, coughing.

Tzuyu looks down at you with a satisfied smirk. Your face is covered in cum, hers and yours mixed together. You probably look absolutely destroyed.

"You're lucky you're cute," she says.

"Does this mean I'm forgiven?"

"Absolutely not." She climbs off you, stretching. "But I'll let you live. For now."

"Shame. Death by thighs is actually a bucket list item of mine."

"Can you go 20 fucking seconds without saying something stupid or mentioning my thighs?"

"…no."

~~~

Hi all! If you haven't already heard, most of the writers on this platform have switched to FanProse. I'm a lot more active on there for sure! But, to be fair, I also took a bit of a break from writing to deal with some life shit. I'm trying to ease back into this, but I have two commissions and a new series to work on, so hopefully it won't be another two months this time!!

Thank you all for reading :)

You find it surprising how whenever it rains, the moment that thunder echoes across the city, there's an almost frantic knock that follows. And of course, once you finally open it, the culprit is right there on the other side.

Ning Yizhuo. Your annoying, meddling, definitely too-involved, overly-attached-and-obsessed, whatever the fuck you wanna call the relationship you share with the girl. You'd call her an ex, but you never officially ended anything. Even with an ocean between the two of you, she'd still find a way, at some point or another, to show up at the doorstep in the middle of the night,

So you sigh at her presence—yet, not because you hate seeing her. No, quite the opposite. It's only out of some kind of spite that you keep her waiting, lingering there outside your house in the rain. Like this is the universe punishing you for past transgressions.

Against your better judgment, you open the door, checking if the doorknob is hot first.

There she stands, looking too attractive in all black, thin stockings, torn somehow, a way too tight skirt hugging her waist. Low cut top, visible through a dark coat, with far too much cleavage to defend against.

And somehow, nothing looks out of place—despite having no other option but to brave the rain to see you.

"Is this your doing, I assume?"

The expression on her face drops from hopeful to annoyance in mere seconds. Ningning rolls her eyes and takes a step forward. You take a step back.

"What, the sky? Please, not even I can control the weather."

"Then why do you always show up whenever there's a storm?"

She pauses, folding her arms. "Call it a coincidence. Now, aren't you gonna invite me inside?"

You hesitate as the storm begins to worsen. Not only the rain but the booming thunder and lightning that chases it, so bad that the entire street lights up. In all honesty, you know that you don't really have another choice. It's not like she'll physically enter the house if you don't allow it, yet she's just insufferable enough to camp in the driveway until the sun comes out.

"Do you even get wet, Ning? You're practically standing in a monsoon out there, and not a spot on you."

"Depends if your pants are still on or not," she fires back, that wicked smile always wide and ready to strike.

You've made worse mistakes than this, you suppose—even though a little voice at the back of your mind urges otherwise.

"Come inside," you say, already regretting the words the moment they leave your lips, gesturing to the open door.

Ningning can't help but smirk. "If things go right tonight, that's what I'll be telling you later, baby."

And just like that, she moves past the doorframe into your place—heading inside like she owns the place.

There's no point in pretending that this isn't an impromptu visit from your not-ex. She kicks her heels off, hanging her coat on the rack beside the door and making you wonder just how many times Ningning has shown up completely dry in the midst of pouring rain.

"So, what did I interrupt that was so important that you took forever to open the door?" Ningning asks, standing around as if she didn't show up uninvited, as if you're expected to drop to your knees just because she's arrived.

"Enjoying the peace, Ning, that's what. It's late," you reply, feeling an incoming headache at having to deal with her. "Maybe if you sent a warning—"

She ignores everything. Stares as you sit back down on the couch, your tea more than a little cold now. "Typical."

You roll your eyes, fighting not to pick an argument while she surveys the place. "Typical what?"

She ignores you again. Somehow unbothered and distant, focused entirely elsewhere—just as if nothing has happened between the two of you. The absolute gall, she has.

"Well, I'm glad you're up at this hour. Even better you're alone."

Now you're the one ignoring her, leaning back down on the couch to finish the last sips of tea, a nagging feeling brewing the pit of your stomach—because there's only ever one reason why she shows up late at night, and it's not to chat over tea.

Much to your chagrin, Ningning looks directly at you, but she moves close—very close, until there's a dangerous look in her eyes while she smiles. "Have you eaten yet?

"A bit, but not really—"

Ningning shakes her head, taunting with a feigned annoyance at your response. "How is it you never have food in this damn house?"

"Don't get hungry often enough, I guess," you say, fighting to keep your eyes off of her outfit.

She nods in response, crossing her arms. "I see. Well then—"

The storm rages on outside the living room window, but your focus is stolen entirely away as Ningning approaches, positioning herself in a spot right in front of your line of sight, as if to distract. Not that it's a hard thing to do. Not when she's wearing a tiny little thing she calls a skirt, stockings that do her legs far too much of a favor, and a top that struggles to contain much of anything.

"Yes, Ning?"

There's a moment that passes by where Ningning stares long enough that you're uncomfortable, long enough to where you feel as if the moment can shatter at any second.

"Look, before I say anything else," she begins, still standing in place as those eyes stay locked on you. "Had to take the train here. Nothing was fucking available. Then a taxi—since you had to live out in bumfuck nowhere. I'm tired, and sore—I'm absolutely starving. Not for food, obviously."

"Obviously," you repeat, hardly in shock with her direct nature. She's hardly ever subtle. "Then take what you need. Don't have to ask twice."

Her lips curl up. "Thanks, sweetie. Knew there was a reason why I liked you."

Without anything further, Ningning is quick—far too quick for your liking while she climbs atop, legs on either side, straddling you—close enough so you can feel the heat on your skin. You sit idly by and soak it all in.

"This'll hurt just a little bit—" she says, before her lips press deep so she can pepper several kisses along the side of your neck. "Just keep still. I'll be quick."

"Don't be."

You don't even register the words that come out of your mouth, not fully, at least. Ningning smirks, running her fingers through your hair, smiling in satisfaction that you've somehow fallen into her trap yet again.

"Darling, I will tear you apart if you let me have my way."

You'd damn near let her.

Ningning's not the type to wait around, tilting her head back so she can bare her glistening fangs, primed and ready to devour you whole in the process. They sink in at the crook of your neck, piercing the skin with ease—almost at the exact same spot you remember from the last time.

Sharp pain shoots through your body in a matter of seconds, as blood flows out without pause, succumbing to her hunger, letting Ningning takes what she pleases. You hiss at the sensation—a strange mixture of pleasure and pain, not sure which is winning out, only able to watch her drain you, eyes locked in an almost sinister trance while she feeds.

Then, just like that, Ningning pulls her head back, lips stained with a crimson red that she wipes off with the back of her hand. She looks more vibrant, alive—eyes that pierce deep, more than satisfied for the night.

"Thanks, love. That's enough," she replies softly, running her fingers over the bite mark before planting a little kiss on your cheek. "Took a little more than usual. Hope you don't mind."

You laugh, looking up, lost in her gaze. "What am I gonna do, Ning, take it back? Don't worry."

"That'd be very inconvenient," Ningning says, smiling at that. "You should rest a bit, yeah? How do you feel?"

You shrug. "I'll manage. Little dizzy, but I'll survive."

"Because you have nothing to eat in this shithole. You sure you're good?"

You nod, smile returning to your face as you glance up. "Yeah, of course. Nothing I haven't handled before."

"Good." Those devilish fangs fully on display linger for one more moment until they retract. You'd be lying if you said you weren't a little disappointed.

"So, is this the part where you tell me why you showed up at midnight, wearing next to nothing?"

Ningning presses her body close, offering just enough cleavage for your eyes to wander. "Like it's a surprise I'm here."

You say nothing, and somehow, that's the one thing that actually bothers her a bit. Ningning rises, turning away, more annoyed than offended—a bit different than her usual arrogant nature. "Haven't seen you in a few months. Didn't think I needed an invitation."

"And maybe there's a reason for that."

Surprisingly, Ningning says nothing else for a fleeting moment. Laughing in spite of it all. "Wow. Is there another vampire bitch here giving you what I can't? Because last time I checked—"

"Of course not," you answer immediately, ignoring the tone in her voice.

"Good. Like I was saying, nobody fucks you like I do, and I don't think there's anyone else out there that can."

You sigh, attempting not to feed that overzealous ego even more. "Ning—"

"Don't Ning me," she snaps, the fangs exposed again, retracting within seconds. "You should be so damn grateful that I'm here right now."

"For what, so you can have a midnight snack?"

Ningning ignores that entirely, moving quickly to straddle you once more, wrapping a set of slender, ice cold fingers around your neck.

Her eyes burn into you, and you're too powerless to look away. "Say it. Say I fuck you the best. I won't leave. Not until you say it."

You ponder whether or not to comply, the air leaving your body bit by bit. Ningning squeezes just the right amount—just enough to leave you wanting more, leaving an ache between your legs.

"You're unbelievable."

"In bed, yeah, I am, aren't I?" she purrs, bringing her lips to yours, crashing them into you, hard. You kiss back, already done with resisting, because like it or not—you need Ning as much as she needs you.

"If you didn't look so sexy right now—"

Ningning cuts off the thought, shoving her tongue down your mouth to silence you. "When do I not? You've seen me at every point possible, at every hour, dressed up, down. Sexy is just the norm for me."

"Always so fucking cocky," you mutter under your breath, diving back in for another taste.

"It's not cocky, it's just the truth," Ningning says, sliding off your lap so she can lower to her knees before you. "Let me prove how accurate that statement is. Let's get these pants off…"

You're far too weak to say no, and not because of the blood loss. One swift movement from Ningning, and she has her fingers hooked at the waistband of your pants.

"May I?"

So polite. With a nod, she tugs them down, just far enough for what she has planned, revealing your boxers that aren't doing a very good job at hiding how aroused you are.

"Mmm, yeah," Ningning purrs, satisfied at what she sees as she begins to palm you over the fabric. "Was kinda worried, but got plenty of blood pumping here..."

There's only one thing left, to let Ningning do whatever she pleases, shove your boxers down so your cock can spring out, the tip practically oozing already.

 "All this for me? Gonna milk you dry tonight."

Again, there are no words that come from you, not a single thing outside a gasp. You try and keep your focus on Ningning herself—on that depraved stare when she strokes you. And she gets right down to business, pressing her tongue against the underside of your cock, flicking it a few times before taking a long drag down.

"I really missed this, baby," Ningning admits, planting several teasing kisses from base to tip, giving such satisfying strokes that make your stiff shaft leak.

You barely catch what she's saying—too focused on her touch, one that you haven't felt in far too long, by the person that knows you best. The heat from her mouth as her kisses linger along each and every inch, every vein that her hand travels down, familiarizing herself once more.

"Missed this inside my pussy, feeling how deep you fill me. Missed sucking it, missing making you cum just from this," she murmurs, staring up through those long eyelashes at you while she presses those full lips around your sensitive head, peppering it with affectionate kisses.

You simply moan, unable to get anything else out with her wet tongue swirling all over the head, savoring the taste.

"You missed me too, didn't you?"I know you did. That's why you won't push me away, or kick me out. That's why you won't ever tell me to stop."

Before you have a moment to breathe, Ningning wraps her lips around the head of your cock, trapping it in warmth, sinking down slowly. You can't hold what comes next, another loud moan that escapes as she gives a pleased hum in response, fondling your balls while her head bobs between your legs.

"Ning—"

She descends again, satisfied with that. And keeps at it—never fully down, never allowing her throat to be too full. Just slow, steady suction and delicious warmth while her tongue teases all over, sliding along base to tip, and back down, using all her tricks to draw your bliss out.

"This beautiful cock, fuck, missed the way you taste. The way you throb, how sexy you sound when you moan, mm," Ningning says, pausing just to run her tongue down every last throbbing inch. "And so, so fucking big. Mine. All mine."

Her head lowers, so sloppy and desperate, popping off just to spit on your stiff cock, spreading it all over before that heat envelops your shaft once more. All you can do is stare, every bob of her head drawing you closer to the back of her throat, a sight far too beautiful not to watch.

"God, Ning. Your fucking mouth…"

"Feels amazing, right? Nobody can make you feel this good. Nobody takes care of you like I do, baby? "

Ningning's right—of course, she's right, just like she always is, and you couldn't fight her words even if you wanted to. Because those lips know what they're doing—know how to please you, how to make you groan so pathetically, like her mouth was made just for your cock.

"I could suck your dick all day."

And you'd let her. Let Ningning take everything she wants and more. Everything feels too good—each flick, each slurp, the heat of her mouth—everything is taking you away, especially when she holds your gaze, until she finally swallows you whole in one fluid motion, nose pressed to your stomach as her lips seal tight.

"Fucking hell—"

It's almost a mistake to watch, to watch how her lips slide to the base and back down, this constant urge to please as her throat fills with every inch, tongue out with every stroke. The wetness that covers your shaft with every pass, mouth engulfing you, and all you can do is grab the back of her head, not to guide, not to control, but to simply indulge.

"Feels so fucking good, shit, nobody can do what you do, Ning."

She just stays still, eyes wide, appreciative at your words with her hands caressing your thighs, hardly any strain on her expression to have your entire aching cock buried in her throat.

"The best part is watching you lose yourself," she murmurs, popping off as saliva connects to your tip, breaking that connection so shes can stroke your the spit-covered shaft. "Lucky for you, I have no use for breathing, so I can have that big fucking cock just where it needs to be.

You're practically trembling, so close already it won't be difficult for Ningning to finish you off. That devious look she gives when reaching down to pull up her tight skirt without her lips leaving you. And it takes all you have not to lose it once you realize she has absolutely nothing underneath, her pretty, wet cunt for your viewing pleasure.

"It's a good thing you had an appetite," she says, shifting position just enough so you can see her fingers rub at her bare pussy. "Because my cunt is about ready to devour you."

Ningning says that as she picks up the pace, one finger between her legs, other hand resting on your thigh—bobbing her head at a frantic rate, taking you down and back up like nothing, not a single gag or struggle. You can't do much more than moan and stare, mouth parted and helpless, balls so tense the longer she keeps going, until Ning mercifully pops her lips from your throbbing cock.

"Thinking about how bad I want to ride you, baby. Or maybe you should have me bend over—fill me from behind and slap my ass as you give it to me. Or get all sprawled out, wrap my legs around you so you can't pull out, pound me while I scream how bad I need you. Lots of options for you to ravage my pussy, isn't there?"

The room is practically silent except for the sloppy, hungry sounds of Ningning awaiting your response, bobbing up and down your cock, tongue gliding flicking along every wet inch.

"Upstairs," you say, all out of breath—and it's all she needs to hear.

Ningning swallows you one more time, leaving a wet kiss on your swollen tip once she pulls off, ignoring your body's pleas to stay.

"Well then, lead the way my cute little fangbanger—but do be careful, I did just drain you."

In more ways than one, that's for sure.

There's a surge in motivation as you begin the trek up the stairs, Ningning close behind. Every footstep up the stairs, each thud echoes, like a countdown to your fate that awaits. You can only think of what's about to happen, the way she will take your body, and the sinful things you're going to do to her own in turn, nothing holding either of you back.

Once you arrive at the foot of your bed, Ningning is quick to shove you back with surprising force, giggling as she watches your weakened frame stumble back and land. She steps away, positioning herself close to the window, so you can see everything illuminated in the moonlight.

Ningning is unreal. Her ethereal beauty too much to handle as she undresses, her complexion glowing, that pale skin more beautiful than anything else. Those painted nails that have dug into your flesh almost as much as her sharp fangs, and your thoughts wander, watching each piece fall until a pile of her clothes lingers on underneath her bare feet.

You nearly faint once she's fully naked and turns to face you.

Every delicious curve for your eyes only, you feast on that naked skin, those pretty nipples, hardened by the cool air, those hips, luscious legs—every single inch of her more than overwhelming you. The silhouette of her body can't compare to the real thing once she closes the distance, climbing your lap in record time, hovering dangerously close to your erection.

"Been a while since you last fucked a vampire," Ningning teases, the heat of her cunt teasing the tip of your cock.

"And just whose fault is that?"

Ningning glares, spreading her wetness over the head and doing little else. "Now you're blaming me? When you made it so difficult just for me to see you?"

Before she drops her hips, Ningning allows her fangs to extend again, almost a reminder of her advantage over you. She's grazing over your chest, not using the full force just yet, merely playing with you. Little lovebites left scattered over her favorite parts of you, as if you won't remember the deep ones on your neck from earlier.

"Fucking love you like this—vulnerable, compliant, all fucking mine," Ningning purrs, catching her breath in between bites. "Bet you'd let me do anything to you tonight."

"I'd let you do anything you want anytime," you admit, realizing what comes from that statement.

She smirks at that, at your sudden honestly. Her tongue swipes the side of your face before trailing the shell of your ear, sucking on the soft flesh of your lobe. "Aren't I the lucky one, then?"

Without anything further, Ningning continues her path of destruction, trailing kisses and licks down your body. Like she's for the right moment to strike, or at god knows what else she has planned. Her lips catch a nipple, giving a few swirls that don't allow the pleasure you need, kissing down your abdomen and grazing the flesh with those fangs—those sharp things coming dangerously close, the thought of them puncturing the skin sending an orgasmic mixture of fear and arousal.

"Don't be nervous, baby," Ningning murmurs, lips tracing lower, planting kisses right below your navel that make you gasp. "Would never hurt you or do without warning. Well, without prior permission."

There's no time to give a snarky reply, nothing witty coming from your mouth as she looks at your skin she's made so sensitive, appreciating her work.

"Not nervous, Ning."

"Oh? Then I might wanna let you do what you want for a change," she murmurs into your skin. Ningning's lips hover right above your inner thighs, her hot breath enough to make you flinch, the anticipation of the bite, the delicate tease making every muscle tense up.

"You'll let me?"

Ningning laughs at your question, tongue dancing from where she left off. "Yeah, I'm giving you a freebie tonight. Have your way with me, darling."

It's a hard bargain—you don't trust her intentions, but there's no time for negotiation.

You lift her off with little effort, almost as if your strength returns without warning. Ningning's on her back, legs spread wide, glistening folds exposed to you as she waits for your next move.

"Yeah, this'll do," you say, drinking in that gorgeous view of her pretty cunt that's about to be made yours.

Ningning just smiles at the gesture. "Always knew you were a stickler for the basics. It's cute, really."

That's what she thinks. With that, you lift her legs up, resting both on your shoulders and folding her tiny frame, each of her feet by your ears. In an instant, her face changes from one of disappointment to realization, just at that split second before the plunge.

"Okay, this is different. I've misjudged, it seems—"

You say little else as your cock buries every inch in, sinking inside that soaking mess, making sure you fill her aching pussy perfectly. The groans slip out at her tightness, the wetness that consumes you, the way that Ningning looks once the motion of your hips start.

"You're fucking mine," you growl at the next slam, while her eyes nearly roll to the back of her head, her intoxicating cunt swallowing you up and clenching to make sure you won't dare leave.

"Ah, f-fuck!" she whimpers once you start to fuck her the way she needs. The way you think she deserves, the way you know the bed is going to protest to. No time for her to adjust, Ningning's tight little cunt clamps down with each desperate thrust, making sure you bury every last inch inside her.

"You're so tight—" you grunt, sweat gathering on your forehead already. "Feel too fucking good—always feel so fucking good.

Ningning looks gorgeous when she takes your cock. Hair a tangled mess, all spread out, completely at your mercy. "And you're so deep, so much deeper this way, damn, baby."

"Don't act so surprised, Ning."

"Oh, don't think I can be surprised? As if I expected this? You're never this aggressive."

"Maybe you pulled it out of me," you admit, hips snapping, watching Ningning's expression falter with each slam to the hilt. It's addicting to see her fall apart for a change, to watch those moans escape, pummeling her cunt like there's no other way, no other alternative—like your dick belongs inside her at all times.

"God, baby, look at you go," Ningning huffs out, parting her lips at the forceful treatment you're dishing out. "Making my pussy feel so good, ah—I haven't been fucked this good in ages."

"Then allow me to remedy that situation," you start, taking pleasure in the way she crumbles, the gasp she makes when you withdraw, the frantic moan when you hilt back in.

"Fuck yes, baby—give it to me. Harder, can feel you in my guts, shit," Ning cries out, throwing her head back, content to bask in the pleasure each time your cock disappears fully into her tight little pussy. "God, I needed you so bad. Needed you to fill me up so well."

"Here I am, Ning. Not going anywhere."

There's this rare moment where she can't find any witty comeback, not when that mouth hangs wide open, no snarky comments falling, nothing but pure unadulterated bliss. She's squirming, nails digging into the sheets, lifting her hips higher to let you reach places she'll feel for days.

"Fuck! Fuck, please, god yes," she pleads, struggling to find the words, staring at you through in hopes that you'll get the memo. "Please. Fuck me deeper, wanna feel all of you, want that cock to ruin me."

And that's precisely what you do—holding that position and looking Ningning right in those pretty eyes as you sink deep, pound that wet pussy until she's clinging for dear life to the sheets. She's powerless to you, or at least, pretending to be, words lost to lust as you fill her again and again.

Knowing that for once, she isn't the one in control—there's no strings attached or manipulating factors—that Ningning, that bloodthirsty, cunning, dominating vampire who can bring anyone and anything under her power, is nothing but a toy under you now. She's yours to do whatever with.

That sets something off inside of you, makes you want to push things further, take things to the next level. You shift, spread those legs wider and lift them off you until her knees almost meet her chest, folding her in half even.

Ningning's expression is filled with approval once you do, hips thrusting wildly with no mercy on her drenched pussy, hitting deeper than even before.

And now she looks delirious with pleasure, and your knees are digging into the mattress so you can get that little extra leverage, more power behind those harsh thrusts, hips working to the max, determined to ruin Ning—if it were even possible.

"That's it, destroy me, baby, make my pussy yours. Isn't it funny—you've got me in this, what do you humans call it? A mating press? And it's almost a shame that you can't breed me—makes me wish you could. Give all that hot, yummy cum something to do besides make my pussy gush."

"That's the last thing we need, another Ning. One of you is more than enough."

"You wish you had two. One to suck your hard cock in the morning and another to sit on your face. Yeah, you'd love that."

Your mind can't seem to even grasp the reality of that, picturing it all for a brief moment, only to continue hammering Ningning's tiny wet cunt. The urge, the carnal need to bring her to her brink and beyond consumes you—your hips working without rest, giving the girl no chance to recover, fucking her over and over in that delicate position with no way out of it.

Her body can't keep up with the intensity, and you can't almost either. Pinned against the mattress with nowhere to go, all that attention focused on her soaking cunt—too sensitive, too wet, too inescapable, each thrust becoming impossible to handle. For both of you.

You take pleasure watching her fall to pieces with each thrust that fills her, savoring every gasp that you cause, each plea for you to keep on driving in deep and hard.

"You, baby, keep pounding me like that—fucking my pussy and ruining it. Giving it to me so hard because you know I can take it, I can handle everything you give. Keep it going, keep going and give me what I deserve, empty those balls inside me like you own this pussy."

Hard not to when she's so convincing—staring at you, demanding your load, pleading to keep hammering that greedy cunt, your balls smacking against her asshole more than ready to dump it all in her.

"Get ready then," you say, hips losing all control—that pussy just won't relent, sucking and squeezing all around and making it harder than ever to keep going any longer.

"Oh, baby, please—I was ready to be pumped full of cum the moment you invited me in. You're gonna cum so hard, I know, fill me, make my pussy so messy. Get that hot load nice and deep in me," Ning pleads, bracing for the inevitable, too far gone for anything else.

"Don't you fucking worry, Ning, this tight pussy is getting everything," you say, sheathing yourself deep in that wetness for as long as you can stand.

"Good, then you know what to do—cum inside me."

You groan out—more than compliant with those demands, no longer fighting against the pressure boiling deep inside. No fight left from that tightness you can't escape from, so you give in, unloading as your cock empties into Ningning. The relief is heavenly, each violent throb, each hot spurt that floods her insides, her cunt clenching to demand it all, keeping you captive while you fuck it all deep.

Ningning follows not a second later, struggling to keep her composure as her own orgasm hits, face contorting in pleasure at her reward, toes curling, walls tightening even more as the sticky mess mixes with her own juices together in her hot depths.

And before you can even finishing pumping it all inside her, your fresh load leaks out that sopping, ruined cunt, pooling underneath your pleasure-stricken bodies.

"That's it, fuck… can always count on you to fill my pussy up, baby, just how I need," Ning groans, a tired smile creeping up on her face as she embraces her own bliss. "So fucking hot."

You linger in your high, and do little other than fall against her body and embrace the relief, cock slipping out enough as your cum begins to spill out and ruin the sheets further, something Ningning wears in such satisfaction.

"See?" Ning asks, a bit of smugness returning her voice, playing with your hair. "Aren't you glad you kept that sexy ass mine? "

Your body shifts, so you can focus your gaze on her beautiful complexion. Even if things may end messy again, you have no regrets. For now, all that matters is being right in the arms of the person who's never been more certain.

"You know how much I missed you, Ning," you respond, watching the way her breasts heave with the breaths that follow.

Ningning glances down at you, like that's an obvious conclusion. "Typical."

Too tired to even roll your eyes, too tired to put up with Ningning's usual antics. "Alright, sounds like its time to go back home, and—"

She wraps her legs around you, preventing movement. "And why do you think that is?"

"You got what you wanted, you drained my blood and my balls. Now you can go."

Ningning's quiet as she ponders, just long enough for a mischievous smile. "No, I don't think so. It's late—let me sleep on your sofa."

"Sleep? You don't sleep until morning."

Ningning just giggles, peppering you with kisses that break down your protests. "Then you get to entertain me until then. Deal?"

"And what if I want to sleep?"

She squeezes tighter with her legs around your waist, keeping you firmly in place. "Then you let the wrong girl inside. Do you think I'm done with you?"

Well, no, you certainly don't. That's something she'll make abundantly clear.

"Okay, fine, I'll stay up—but let me take a shower. You really made a fucking mess."

"Me? You were the one that dumped all that cum in me."

You simply stare at Ning, glaring right back at you. The more you stare, the more you both burst out into a fit of laughter, any attempts at acting serious not lasting more than a few seconds.

"No, I think your pussy deserves some blame. It had my cock trapped pretty tight—"

"But you had me all folded like a goddamn chair. Pinned and begging for your cum, that's on you."

Her eyes narrow and Ningning raises one perfectly shaped eyebrow in disbelief. You just remain there, hands lingering atop her waist. "Oh, my apologies for how rough I got with your pussy. Wasn't aware my precious Ningning was so delicate."

Ningning scoffs, using her strength to move your hands off. "I'm a goddamn vampire, don't talk to me about delicate. You can't hurt me no matter how hard you fuck."

"Is that a challenge?"

Her glare continues. "Don't get fucking cocky, love. You'll hurt yourself more than me."

"Hm, sounds like a challenge to me."

"You're such an idiot. You could literally use both hands to choke me with no mercy and I'll just laugh at how pathetic you look. Nothing you can do."

You tilt your head. "Does that mean you'd enjoy the idea?"

"I didn't say I was against it. Just won't do anything, is the point."

There's little sense in debating the merits of that claim. And you're so exhausted that you wouldn't even try. For tonight at least, you can let Ning have this victory.

The rain eventually calms down, enough for the two of you to head outside the balcony and enjoy the weather without risk. Freshly showered, with Ningning in nothing but a stolen shirt from your closet. It's late—so late, but you don't really care.

"Are you planning to make a habit of this?" you ask, knowing what you're asking might be dangerous territory.

Ningning's head turns, the grin on her face looking devilish from so close as she leans over the balcony railing. "Would it upset you if I did?"

An hour ago and you'd have a very different answer—now you aren't so sure. "No, not really. I mean, not like I can ever stop you."

Ningning just takes in your reaction, her own expression not changing a bit. "If I didn't know any better, I'd say you missed me."

You sigh, staring up at the night sky as she inches a little bit closer. "A pretty girl shows up at my door and lets me do whatever I want, lets me fuck her hard against the shower wall—yeah, maybe a little."

Ningning laughs, her hand creeping around to find yours, fingers interlocking and thumb rubbing slowly against your flesh. "Is that all it takes? For me to show up, suck your dick and let you empty your balls into me, then I'm suddenly a good person?"

"Hey, I never said that—"

"Darling," she says, tightening her grip, bringing her head right next to yours, warm breath ghosting over your ear. "I'd bend over and do every dirty little thing you ask without complaint. I'd worship your cock just for the sake of making you happy. All I need is for you to say you want that. That you want me."

That gets your attention. You can't say that this night has been anything but wonderful, despite your trepidation in at the beginning. Your fingers squeeze tightly around hers, eyes focused on Ningning's pretty face in the dark, moon illuminating her features.

"God, what am I getting myself into.."

She laughs, flashing that bright smile before turning back to face the city skyline. "Hopefully me again, love."

You snake your arms over around her small waist until she's tight against you. With no shame whatsoever, you slide your hands underneath, squeezing Ningning's bare ass and pulling her into a kiss.

"But what if I wanted to do all kinds of crazy things to you, Ning? Or wanted you to do them to me?"

Ningning struggles not to smile, doing all she can to not succumb to the giddy laughter that tries to emerge. "Just tell me a time and date then. So I can catch that goddamn train."

Not letting up, you steal her lips, tasting them, savoring how soft they feel against yours, running your hands all over her cold, bare skin.

"Why catch a train when I have a perfectly good sofa for you to crash on?" you ask between kisses, trying to spend as much time pressed up against her body as possible.

"Darling," she interrupts, almost annoyed, staring directly into your eyes. "Please be serious right now. Don't treat me like I'm some random hookup."

You raise an eyebrow, confused. "I wasn't. I'm offering you a place to stay."

Ningning breaks out into a little laugh. She stops herself when you show no sign of joking.

"Wait, you're actually serious? Really? Stay?"

You interrupt her with another kiss. "Isn't that what I said? Not gonna make you sit on some shitty train for hours just to get dicked down at some ungodly hour. Stay with me. Tonight. Tomorrow night. Whenever you want."

She doesn't know what to say to that, only that her smile is spreading from ear to ear. "Of course I'll stay—thought you'd never ask. I'll happily get dicked down any time I come. Suck your dick the moment you wake up. Make breakfast, talk dirty to you while you stroke and cum on my tits, all kinds of crazy, naughty things—"

"Ning, you already have an invite, you don't need to try so hard."

She laughs it off. "What can I say, I get excited by the idea of seeing that cock at any hour."

"Christ. Is that the only reason you want to live here? Just so you can drain me dry every hour on the hour?"

The little giggle that Ningning gives is enough of an answer, knowing she can't deny the fact that it's a strong motivating force behind her plans. "No, of course not, baby. I also need you around so I can take your blood whenever I need it."

You scoff at that, threatening to leave the balcony altogether. Ningning, laughing again, wraps her arms tight around yours, refusing to let you out of her grasp. "I'm not a buffet, Ning."

"Mm," she hums, nuzzling into your neck. "You're whatever I need you to be. Your cock certainly is. Your thick, juicy, delicious—"

"Ning—"

"Yes, darling?"

"Come inside. It's freezing and the rain is starting up again. And you're not wearing anything to speak of."

Ningning laughs, clinging to your side. "Or what, I might die? Vampire, love. I could do this all night."

Another sigh escapes, pulling away only to lift her up into your arms, getting a good grip under her ass so the resounding sound of her squeal fills your ears once you carry her back inside.

"Someone is eager to go again," Ningning says, more than happy with where things are heading. You pretend that the thought doesn't cross your mind.

"No, I'm freezing and wanna go to sleep. I have work tomorrow," you say, depositing her ass right onto the cushions of the sofa before she can put up a fuss.

"It's the weekend, love," she reminds, pulling you down on the couch with her, legs already wrapping around and taking the fight out of you. "Which means you're stuck with me until Monday."

Nothing you can do but laugh at her persistence. You kiss her, once, and then pull away. Staring into her eyes, taking in her beauty, wondering if it would always be this difficult for you to escape.

"Should have listened. When people say you shouldn't feed strays. Because they always keep coming back."

Ningning's expression changes, lips turning into a far more offended pout. "Are you calling me a stray? What the fuck—"

"You always show up on my doorstep, wanting scraps and a place to rest. Is that not far off the mark?" you tease, only to be cut off by her lips.

"Rude," she mumbles between each kiss. "There are plenty of places I could be. Men to see. Bars to visit. Places to collect victims. Yet, here I am. Guess where I've chosen."

"Just sounds like you don't have anywhere else to go if you ask—"

Ningning's kisses stop abruptly, grabbing your head and guiding it down between her legs. "I didn't ask, thanks. Now if you don't mind, be a good boy and eat my pussy before I need to feed again."

You've never been much of an "alpha male", and frankly, you're fine with that. Your childhood is a classic tale: always last picked in school sports, struggled to make many guy friends, called every homophobic slur under the sun just for having basic hygiene. Despite it all, you ended up in an alright place—a quiet and unassuming existence.

Then, you met Kazuha, and your quiet and unassuming existence turned upside down.

"He ordered the chicken sandwich, not the burger," she scolds, dropping the tray of food onto the counter with enough force to send a couple fries flying.

You meekly tug her sleeve. "It's fine, really—"

"Hush, baby." In an instant, she shuts you up with a quick glance with those piercing eyes. "Let momma handle this."

"I'm so sorry, ma'am," the cashier says with his squeaky, prepubescent voice. "I'll have the kitchen put a rush on his chicken sandwich right away. Uh, may I interest you in a free dessert for your troubles?"

Kazuha turns to you, patiently waiting for your answer.

"Uh, I guess a vanilla milkshake wouldn't be so bad—"

"Vanilla milkshake," she repeats, leaning against the counter. "And no cherries. My boyfriend doesn't like cherries."

The cashier gulps, his Adam's apple practically disappearing in sheer terror. "U-uh, yes ma'am. No cherries. Understood."

"Good." Kazuha shoots him one final glare before taking your hand and leading you back to your booth.

"You didn't have to do that," you mutter. "I would've been fine with the burger."

She slinks into the seat across from you with a huff. "It's not what you ordered though. And I know how much you like the chicken sandwich at this place."

You shrug. "The burger isn't that bad."

"Then why didn't you order the burger?" She raises her brow in that "I'm right and you know it" kinda way that you're all too familiar with.

"Well…"

Kazuha reaches across the table and lifts up your chin, forcing you to meet her eyes. "Repeat after me: Thank you for fixing my order, Kazuha. You're the best," she says in a high-pitched voice.

You chuckle softly. "I don't sound like that."

"Say it."

"Thank you for—"

"Do it in the voice."

"Wha—I'm not gonna do t—"

"Do it!"

Her outburst attracts some unwanted attention from other tables, making you shrink in your seat. "Kazuha, people are looking…"

Her lips curl into that smirk—the one that never fails to make your heart do a somersault even after eight months of dating. "Aw, sorry," she brushes her thumb against your bottom lip, "did I embarrass you, baby?"

"W-whatever." You pull away before you do something that'll get both of you kicked out for overt PDA. "Thanks for fixing my order. You're the best," you utter flatly.

Kazuha sits back, arms behind her head and chin held high like those cool kids in old movies. "I know. I'm pretty fuckin' sick."

"And humble too."

The cashier from earlier drops off your food, making an effort to avoid looking Kazuha in the eye. "Here you go, is there anything else I can get you two?" he asks.

Kazuha looks over at you for an answer. "No, thank you," you say. You swear you see him breathe a heavy sigh of relief as he walks away. Poor guy.

"I feel bad," you unwrap your chicken sandwich, the one you ordered initially. "He's probably got enough things going on without us giving him grief."

"Relax babe, we're doing him a favor. Now he knows not to mess up people's orders," she points out, coolly tossing a fry into her mouth.

"Still," you linger on the flakes of salt on her lip for a second too long, "you know how badly service people are treated on the daily. I don't wanna add to that."

"Then don't. I'll do it for you," she smirks.

"Kazuha, that's not funny."

"What, I didn't laugh."

"Yeah, but you're smiling."

"I'm smiling because you're cute."

You bite your tongue, unwilling to give her the satisfaction of a grin. Unknowingly or not, she sets her food to the side and leans forward, eyeing you like a piece of art.

"Ugh, I hate when you do that," you mutter.

"Do what? I'm just lookin' at ya." Her eyes trace over your lips, and you wonder if she'll like the taste of that new chapstick you just bought.

"I'm trying to eat."

"Am I disturbing your eating?" You feel her foot press against your calf, drawing slow lines with the toe of her boot.

Trying to win against Kazuha is a sisyphean task. She does what she wants, and you follow her around like a loyal puppy. Behave well enough, she'll give you a treat—and just like any puppy, you like your treats.

"Not here, at least," you pout. "I haven't had a single thing to eat all day."

"Aww." She gives you one last drag against your leg before settling back into her seat. "Okay, I'll let you eat."

"Thank you."

Even then, you find your foot gently rubbing against hers as you eat. You can act annoyed all you want, but face it: you're completely smitten with Kazuha.

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"Baby?" Kazuha grabs a leather jacket off of the rack and holds it up to her torso. "What do you think?"

"I think," you sigh, "you have way too many leather jackets."

"What's wrong with that? I'm a collector."

"That looks exactly like the one you bought last week." You take a closer look at the oddly familiar looking tag. "I'm pretty sure that is the exact same one."

"Oh." She takes one last look at it before putting it back. "See, this is why I like having you around. I've probably saved, like, a billion dollars thanks to you."

"Whatever," you chuckle, linking your arm with hers. It's just common sense, you think, but the warmth of her compliment is leagues better than being right.

The two of you pass by racks and racks full of the new wave of summer trends. Personally, you've always been a fan of the fall—cardigans, sweaters, the ability to wear jeans without your legs feeling like tinfoil-wrapped burritos. You and summer are just a match made in Hell. Inevitably, it comes around to torment you for three months out of the year and you're forced to scramble for a wardrobe that won't burn you alive.

"See anything you like?" Kazuha asks.

You scan the men's section, grimacing at the typical suspects that plague the shelves—tank tops, cargo shorts, ugly graphic tees with abominations like "summer vibes" written all over them. "Not really."

"You sure?" She grabs a simple black tank top off the rack. "This one seems pretty nice."

You physically restrain yourself from rolling your eyes. Something like that would only look good on her, with her pretty arms that are deceptively strong, and when she flexes, you can see the shadows dance around her biceps, which reminds you of that one time she put you in a chokehold as a joke and you could feel her muscles pushing against your throat, and you were so mesmerized by the feeling that you forgot to fight back, and—

"Baby?" Kazuha shakes you out of your trance. "You okay?" she chuckles.

"I-I'm good." You wipe away the droplet of drool that almost leaked from your lips. "Let's keep looking."

Deeper and deeper through the men's section you go, yet nothing seems to tickle your fancy. Go figure. You knew looking for clothes this time of year would be futile, but Kazuha wanted to hang out and you already said yes before realizing how much of a waste of time this would amount to.

"Ugh, these all suck," you groan.

"Maybe we'd have found something by now if you weren't so picky," Kazuha points out, brow raised at you.

"Not all of us were born to look good in just about anything," you bite back with a cheesy grin. "Some of us have to put effort into looking nice."

"Hey, don't blame me for being sexy." She drapes her arm around your shoulders, and for a split second, you think she's going to put you into another chokehold. So close. "I don't want you overheating just because you're being stubborn, baby."

"I'm not being stubborn, I just—"

You glance over at the women's section and stop at one of the mannequins. It's wearing a simple outfit, fitting for the weather, but what catches your eyes is the skirt—floor length and ruffled, made of a pure white cotton that seems to dance, even on the still mannequin. 

For one reason or another, you can't take your eyes off of it. It wouldn't be too hard to fit into your current wardrobe, and it's a much nicer alternative to the dull beige of all the cargo shorts that seems to infect every corner of the men's options. But, it's just—you're a guy, and Kazuha, well—you already wonder why she even likes you, and—

Kazuha follows your gaze. "Are you getting the hots for the mannequin?" she teases.

"W-what? No, I just—maybe we can find somewhere else to—"

She grips your hand before you have a chance to escape. "Hey, be honest with me." Her voice turns softer, more sincere compared to her usual mischief. "What's going on?"

"Nothing, I—" You peer into her round eyes. They're void of any kind of judgment or disgust, the usual reaction you expect when girls you're interested learn of your 'peculiar tastes'. "I just thought the skirt was pretty. That's all."

"Pretty on me, or pretty on you?"

"Well, of course you'd look pretty in it—"

"Hey." She tilts your chin up, the tip of her thumb pressing your bottom lip. You practically sink into her touch. Never have you felt a presence safer than Kazuha's.

"I… wanna try it on," you admit shyly. "Is that okay?"

She bares her pretty white teeth at you before pressing a soft kiss onto your lips. "Of course you can, baby. You don't need my permission to wear whatever you want."

Heat creeps up your cheeks like lava bubbling to the top of a volcano. "Thanks," you utter, biting back your excitement at the thought of looking pretty.

The second your staring at your reflection in the dressing room mirror, the ruffled skirt in your hands, it all starts to feel a little too real. Your first ever skirt. The thought has crossed your mind a handful of times before, but you never thought you'd actually get to this point. If it weren't for Kazuha and her charming eyes, this moment would just be another figment of your imagination.

You take a deep breath, and you put it on—it fits. Your reflection doesn't look half bad either. The breeze between your legs will take some getting used to, and you'll need to be wary of what color underwear you wear with these, but for now, you're just in awe of how good it looks. How good you look.

You do a little twirl for fun, giggling at the way the dress flows like petals on a blooming flower. Kazuha knocks against the dressing room door. "Did you try it on yet? I wanna see."

"Yeah! Come in."

As soon as Kazuha sees you, her expression drops. In that moment, worry starts to creep into your mind.

Does she not like it?

Does she not like you?

Will she leave just like the rest of them?

All your anxieties are laid to rest as Kazuha envelops you into a tight squeeze. "Holy fuck, my boyfriend is so pretty," she breathes, rocking you back and forth in her arms. You immerse yourself in her warmth, the kind of warmth that steadies your heart and quiets your mind; the kind you want to feel every day until you die.

"Does that mean you like it?" you ask.

"I love it," she says, pecking your lips. "I'm totally buying you every single color they have."

You chuckle at her enthusiasm. "Maybe we can just stick to this one for now? Until I get used to it, at least."

"That's fine with me." Her lips find yours once again, this one a little longer, a little more tender. "It really suits you, baby."

This kiss leaves you wobbly-kneed and blubbering, reduced to a puddle of lovestruck goop in her arms. Her strong, toned arms that you somehow fit perfectly in between.

"Let's hurry up and pay for it so I can take it off you later tonight," she winks, shutting the door behind her and leaving you to feel like the luckiest boy on the planet.

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The two of you kick off your shoes by the front door of your apartment, tossing the shopping bags haphazardly on your coffee table. Those will be for future you to deal with; right now, your feet are dead from all the walking and your body is in desperate need of a bed to collapse on.

"C'mon, c'mon, c'mon," Kazuha urges, dragging you to your bedroom. In there, she collapses back onto your bed, arms above her head and her eyes staring you down like a hawk to a little mouse. "Hurry up and take me, pretty boy."

"O-oh." You gulp. "You mean, like, right now? Um—"

"What's that?" Kazuha asks, a smirk growing on her lips. On your usually tidy desk, a small pile of crumpled tissues sits next to your closed laptop, and the memory of what you did last night hits you all at once.

"W-wait, it's not what it looks like—!"

"You little freak!" Before you have a chance to explain yourself, Kazuha jumps to her feet, grabbing at your laptop with the cunning of a fox. "Ooh, let's see what kind of perversions you were watching!"

"Kazuha, don't—"

She flips open your laptop, and on the screen lies a still of the last scene you had watched—a boy with cerebral palsy and his grandma overlooking the edge of a mountain.

"What?" Kazuha asks. "Where's the porn?"

"I wasn't watching porn," you sigh in embarrassment, "I was watching a movie."

She gasps. "An adult movie?!"

"No!" 

Kazuha falls into a fit of giggles. Real mature of her.

"I was watching a… sad movie." You point at the pile of tissues. "I was crying…"

"Aw." She holds your head to her chest, kissing the top of your scalp. "Sorry, I didn't mean to make of fun of you for crying."

"It's fine." It's impossible to be upset with her when she feels this nice.

"Was it good? Can I watch it with you?"

"You want to? What about the whole, um, 'taking you' thing?"

She chuckles softly. "Maybe some other time. Walking around all day has got me feeling lazy." Kazuha crawls into your bed, cozying up under your covers. "C'mon, I wanna watch!"

You relent, following her onto your bed. "I might cry again."

"That's okay," she wraps you in her embrace, "mama's here."

You drag the little red dot all the way to the beginning and hit play, safe and sound in her arms.

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"Grandma?" Chunhe utters, cradling the box of his beloved cat's ashes in his arms.

"Hmm?" she replies.

"After you take me to school, I'll buy you a meal at the cafeteria."

His grandma smiles at him. "All right."

"And then," Chunhe continues, "Buy yourself a train ticket and go wherever you want. Go look around. Go have some fun. Let me walk the rest of my path my way. All right?"

His words may be slow or clumsy, but his sincerity cuts through like the sharpest blade, and his grandma knows this. No more is Chunhe the helpless little boy he once was; now, he stands tall against the prejudice that the world throws at him.

Even after knowing how it ends, it doesn't get easier the second time around.

"There, there," Kazuha coos, gently brushing your head. "It's okay, baby."

"Sorry," you sniffle, "It's just—"

"I know."

She holds you to her chest, letting you sob your little heart out for what feels like forever. For every tear that falls, Kazuha is there with a brush of her thumb or a comforting kiss to pick up all the broken pieces that the movie left you in.

It feels unfair, undeserved, you think, to know such tenderness like it's home. In the original script, the roles would be reversed—Kazuha sobbing into your arms while you comfort her. 

But they aren't. And even in this tenderness that you cherish so deeply, inklings of insecurities that you've long held still manage to seep through.

"Can I ask you something?" you say, wiping away at the last of your tears.

"What is it, baby?"

You breathe, slowly. "Why do you… why do you like me?"

She leans into you, the soft weight of her cheek resting on your head. "Hmm… Well, other guys just suck," Kazuha answers simply.

"Don't you ever wish I was more, uh, 'manlier' or something?"

"Hell no," she grimaces. "Those kinds of guys are the worst. I say one funny thing and they're all like 'Damn, your energy is different, for real!' and it's so annoying! I just have a personality!"

Kazuha holds you tighter, and it becomes clear just how much she wants you over any other guy. "Besides, I like my boys on the softer side." She kisses your damp cheek. "It means they have a soul."

The thought of it alone is more than enough to freeze the blood in your veins. You still get stiff when you recall the way your face warped from relief after seeing your girlfriend again in the flesh, then into confusion when you began to wonder where this was all coming from, and finally into dread when you finally realized where this discussion might be headed.

What was that supposed to mean? What does that spell for your relationship?

You wish it was that easy. You really wish it could be that simple. To just talk to her. To just ask her directly about it. To confront her and her unspoken fears and insecurities about your long-distance relationship.

But the words don’t come out. You can’t find it in you to scrape them from the pit of your chest and lay them bare before her. She doesn’t seem like she wants to breach the subject either—not again. Whenever your eyes met since she popped the question, you could tell from the way she darts her gaze away within milliseconds that she just wanted to instigate. She was hoping you would progress it.

Did she really think you—let alone anyone—could have prepared for something like this?

You’re happy enough as it is. You have many things to be thankful for.

You’re glad you managed to save up enough money to attend their concert tonight—SVIP tickets. Bougie little shit. She offers to not just get you a free ticket to the soundcheck, but also a special backstage pass so you could hang out with her and the other members during the breaks and lulls of their performances. But you told her some cheesy and cringey spiel about wanting to ‘earn your way’ to be by her side when she’s on the stage. So she let you do it your way.

You’re relieved that your little gambit after the concert paid off. The moment she told you that the flight was almost immediately after their concert, you began planning for a means of escape. You knew it would be difficult to reach her, so you pulled some strings, which included buying a cheap ticket to South Korea, bribing the staff in charge of the lounge areas, and sending her a script meant for her manager to allow her to be excused for a moment before their departure. It was hard enough for her to come up with bullshit reasons for her other members, but you’re just glad it worked.

But most of all, you’re glad that she’s with you. Really with you right now.

Leaning into your stiff body planted firmly against the soft padded cushions of the lounge couch, she’s pressing her cheek between the folds of your lap, holding onto the stretch of leg between your hip and knee, allowing you to caress the stray strands of her hair away from her face, Naoi Rei acts as if nothing had just happened between you two.

As if you two hadn’t soft-launched your break up.

There’s a whole self-service buffet in front of you two: pastries, all-day breakfast, specialty items from the local cuisine, finger foods, light snacks. There’s even a cocktail bar stocking one of her favorite drinks. But she doesn’t budge. And neither do you.

You know you should probably get some food for her—even feed her if you have to. You didn’t want to bring it up before whenever you two got on video call, and you weren’t even sure if it was real or if it was all just in your head, but you couldn’t help but notice the amount of weight she’s losing. One of your hands crests over her bare thighs and squeezes it in comfort. Your other hand dangles just above her laying face and pokes a finger into her cheek to test its plushness. Thankfully she hasn’t gotten too skinny, but it concerns you. Greatly. And you should probably be a decent boyfriend anyway and get her a bite or two to help her recharge after her concert.

And yet, you still find yourself motionless by her side, halfway between wanting to embrace her tightly and helping her sit up so you can walk out and run as far away from the airport as possible.

You shut your eyes and let out a sigh so deep that it rumbles in your stomach, alerting her.

She shifts, swapping from her previous fixation—the F1 race on one of the TVs that she knows absolutely nothing about—and instead now looks up at you. 

You try your best not to look at the sulk in her eyes, at the pale of her cheeks, at the longing in her pout. You feel your pettiness bubble up to the surface. She was the one who hinted at breaking up, so why should you feel any pity towards her?

But who are you kidding? One glimpse of her and your knees buckle. Soon, you find yourself staring right back at her from above.