Love Kpop Smut & Making AI Bot On Janitor & Spicy

October 4

She ordered the barley tea again, sipping from the cup with both hands wrapped around it as if it was going to escape. The cafe was as loud as usual, but she had a way of making noise irrelevant. All you noticed was her.

On the way out, she said, okay, okay — next we should — then grabbed you by the wrist, pulled you towards the river and sat you down for an impromptu picnic. She started pointing at the clouds and made up stories on the spot, found one that looked like a rabbit, then one that she swore resembled you. It definitely didn't, but all you did was stare at her, watching her look at the sky, taking it in like the world was still offering her something and she intended to accept every bit of it, so you just agreed.

October 7

Bukchon today, and she walked ahead of you, same as always, turning back every few steps — look at this, look at that one! — a fat cat purring, a big red door, a bicycle mural on the wall with a rideable seat, a vendor selling keyrings she decided you both needed immediately. She looped yours onto your bag.

I want to come back here in the winter, she said, looking up at the roof lines. Everything's going to look so different in the snow.

You said yes, then took a photograph in your mind — her coat, her breath in the cold air, the keyring swinging from her fingers as she danced across the street, turning back to look at you.

Before long, she started moving again. Okay, okay — next we should —

So you follow. You always follow.

I hope you can read this later, photograph still fresh in your memory. Please don't forget it for me.

October 10

The cafe in Mapo. She's become obsessed with trying out every flat white the city had to offer. So far she's twelve cafes in and every single one has been given full marks.

She was quieter today — not much, just to a degree. Usually she'd be talking about how good the last show she watched or the last book she read was, but today she just looked out on the street, her hands wrapped around her warm mug, and you watched something move across her face. You didn't really have a word for it. The expression of someone doing arithmetic.

She caught you staring. What? she asked, then melted into a smile.

Nothing, you said, and grinned back. You stared at her, and she looked back at you. Then you both cracked, her infectious laughter pulling you in as you chuckled.

Her cup went cold, so you ordered two more. She moved to sit next to you, leaning on your shoulder. You took her hands and wrapped yours around them, then took another photograph.

I really hope you're not forgetting these any time soon, because they're not taken on phones. A phone couldn't do it justice — her breath against your skin before it grew more regulated as she dozed off, her head resting on the crook of your neck, your hands taking in the daintiness of hers.

Before she knocked out completely, you heard her murmur the faintest of thank yous and I love yous. And that was all you needed to keep everything from cracking.

October 19

You would've met up again sooner, but she had to reschedule. Of course, you understood why, and wanted to visit. But her mother refused, so you waited, painfully, for a week.

This time it's the flower garden, the one next to the zoo — which you suggested at first, before she broke down crying. You asked what happened.

They took Rocket away, I don't want to go.

Rocket, her favourite monkey at the enclosure. You couldn't bear her crying, so you settled for the next best option.

The day didn't last as long as you wanted, but you pushed that selfish thought away for her. She's getting tired more easily now, and you've slowly learned how to walk slower without appearing to. To choose the closer seat. To carry everything. If she noticed, she didn't say anything.

October 20

Tonight she said, I don't want you to be sad.

You told her you wouldn't be, lied straight out of your teeth. She looked at you the way she looks at things she's deciding whether to believe, then she nodded, and tucked herself to your side.

I am writing this down for you even though we didn't go anywhere today because I know you will have forgotten, by the time you read this, how to do anything other than be sad. So I'm writing it here: she asked you not to be. Try for her.

October 24

The Han River again, her choice. This time you came better prepared for the picnic. You spread the snacks out on the mat and lay down next to her, where she was staring at the sky again, though she wasn't narrating this time. She stayed quiet, the way she has been for the past week or so, blinking slowly, fatigued.

You stare at the sky with her, and she says, in the softest voice possible, I'm glad it was you.

You take it in. Not trusting your voice, you didn't speak for a while. Then, me too.

More so than any time she ever uttered the eight letters, that moment was worth infinitely more.

December 19

I don't know how else to write tonight so I'll just write what happened.

I spread the snacks on the mat, the same ones as last time, her favourites. Sitting next to the triangle kimbaps and Market O brownies as they lay there untouched between me and the water, all I could think about was how we should’ve been back in Bukchon now.

The sky did nothing in particular. I looked for the rabbit cloud, and the cloud that looked like me, but I think they drifted away a long time ago. I took photographs anyway, the dark water, the empty space beside me, both keyrings. I took them on my phone this time. Maybe that's why they feel different.

After a while I reached for her hand.

I didn't feel anything there, but I opened my mouth anyway. Okay, okay — next we should — before I lost it completely.

I stayed for a little longer before I couldn't bear it anymore. I packed up the snacks and both keyrings and took the long way home.

I visited her parents a week ago. Her dad consoled me with a hug, but when his arms wrapped around me all I could think of was her, and how she felt the same. Her mom invited me onto the balcony for a smoke. I think neither of us knew what to say, so we sat in silence. Eventually she said, God can be so cruel, huh?

It took all of my self-control not to scream out at the skies before I told myself she wouldn't have wanted that.

But she would've wanted me to remember. That's why I wrote all of this down in the first place. You, when I read this in the future, need to remember her. How she smiled with her entire face. How excited she'd get over her favourite movie, or spotting a stray dog on the long way home.

And so I'll say the thing I've been wanting to say across all of these pages:

It was good. Every single moment with her was so unbearably, completely good.

And she was glad it was you.

Remember that. Hold it with both hands, because it might escape.

You haven’t moved from the door.

“You keep saying that but you also just said I’m not allowed to come over there.”

“Did I really say that?” Her mouth forms a pout meant to destroy you.

“You said ‘don’t come over here until I tell you,’ which is, you know, the same thing.”

“Mhmmm.” She wrinkles her nose. “But that was at the chapel, babe.”

“That was half an hour ago.”

“And? Time flies when you’re trying to seduce your husband.”

Her hips lift a little. The wet sound is very faint and very specific. You think about closing your eyes but you decide not to.

“Oppa~”

“Yes, my wife?”

“You should see what I’m going to do to you tonight.” Her smile widens. “I’m going to make you put it in me so many times the cabin’s gonna get a noise complaint.”

“From who? The roaming wildlife outside? The deer? There’s no one out there.”

“Seems like you’ve thought about this.”

“I’ve thought about this all day, babe. Even while the officiant was talking.”

“Romantic.”

“Mhmm.” Her fingers move faster. “Come closer.”

You take three steps. The floorboards creak. She immediately lifts her right foot, heel still on, and tips it forward into the air toward you.

“Nope nope nope nope.”

You stop.

“Baby—”

“Did I say you could come that close?” She pouts. That pout again. The cutest thing in the world and it’s yours now. “I said come closer. Not, like, all the way.”

“Magenta.”

“Don’t ‘Magenta’ me.” She nudges the air with her heel and you take a small step back. “There. Stay.”

“This is my cabin too. I’m on the rental agreement.”

“It’s our cabin, Oppa, and on our cabin’s rental agreement I am the boss until I say I’m not. I’m pretty sure it’s clause four.”

“That doesn’t exist, babe.”

“There absolutely is. I added it just now.” Her hand still hasn’t stopped. “Stop arguing. I’m trying to be horny here.”

“You know what I’m thinking about right now?”

“Mhmm.” She tilts her head. “Tell me.”

“I’m thinking about how fast I can get this dress off you and how much of me I can put inside you before midnight.”

Her hand stutters.

“Oppa.”

“What?”

“You can’t just say things like that.” She bites her lip. “I’m going to lose.”

“Lose what?”

“The game. The waiting game. Where I make you wait. All. Night. Long~”

You unbuckle, unzip, take yourself out. You hear her inhale and you wait. She is staring. Her hand has slowed down. Her foot is still up in the air between you, holding the line.

“Okay that’s not fair.”

“You started it, baby.”

“I know I started it but you can’t just bring your cock out, like, that and expect me to keep my composure.”

“You’re going to cum in about thirty seconds.”

“How dare you.” But her hand is moving faster again. “Take that back, baby. I have so much stamina, yknow~.”

“You’re slurring your words now, baby. You’re losing your mind.”

“Oppa~”

“What.”

“Just shut up and let me cum.”

She bites her bottom lip hard and her hand moves faster and her thighs start to shake and the heel still pointed at you starts wobbling in the air. The bodice of the dress slips off one shoulder. She doesn’t notice. Her hair sticks to her forehead.

“Oppa—oh god, oppa, oppa I’m—”

She cums with her foot still half-raised between you and a moan she’d never make on a normal day. Her thighs clamp around her own hand. The heel finally drops to the duvet. Her toes curl inside it.

She doesn’t move for a moment.

“Oppa~”

“Yes, my wife?”

“I take it back.”

“Take what back?”

“All of it.” Her voice has gone soft. Wet. She’s still breathing hard. “Please come here.”

“You sure, baby?”

“Please. Please. Please. I want it now. I want to still feel it tomorrow. Please please please come breed me, oppa, now, please—”

You’ve never undressed yourself faster.

See it on fanprose

“I… I don’t know if I can handle this anymore… (sob) It… It’ll be better if we both just… move on!” Dead silence afterwards, followed by the ruthless beeping sound from your phone.

That’s the last sentence you heard before your girlfriend Kim Jiwon hung up the call. To be more exact, she is your ex-girlfriend right now. You let your phone slide down on the mattress in awe, by the moment you realize to call her back, her number is already in voice mail mode. Within expectation, Message is sent and left on read. A few days later, your number was added to her Blocked list, no more “Can I talk to you?” or “Liz, please let me explain!” ever got through.

---

Her cracked and sad murmuring lingered in your head like a curse over the past week. Why? You swear everything in your relationship was going so smoothly. Hell, it was better than the few romances you had before you met Liz.

The first anniversary was just last week. You took a huge chunk of your PhD stipend to book a fancy restaurant that serves little food on very big plates and surprised Liz with a bouquet full of pink roses. You hid the bouquet behind you as you walked towards her. She’s wearing a brown tank top beneath a black cardigan. Her hair dyed brown, her plump lips are glassy under the orange late-afternoon sun. “She’s literally an angel.” You thought.

“Jiwon, I made a guess that you’ll probably like this.” You hand her the bouquet, trying to act calm despite your face is just as pink as the flowers.

“Aw~ they’re so lovely! How do you know I like pink roses?” Liz is blushed as well; your gaze meets each other’s. Her endearing dimple makes you fall deeper each time you look at her.

“I thought gorgeous and elegant girls all like roses. Like yourself.” You squeeze a faint smile, pulling her close on your side while she holds the bouquet with both hands, eyes flickered full of joy from your compliment.

“You’re trying to make me blush again, stop~” Liz hides her face into your neck, her warm breath brushing your skin. That fresh vanilla scent of her shampoo makes you smile.

You hug her closer to you and she hums softly, your palm never leaving her waist.

The rest of the date was phenomenal, you thought.

The way how she couldn’t hide her smile when you held her hand into the restaurant and told her to order whatever she wanted to eat.

The way her cheeks turned so pink after the second glass of wine was down to her stomach.

The way she covers her face shyly while mumbling something like, “Babe… I love you so much. Hehehe…”

The way how she eagerly kissed you when you shut her apartment door and she pinched you to the wall.

The way how she let out soft moans like melodies from heaven when you really felt her with your body.

The way your bodies and the sheets tangling together the morning after, her room filled with nothing but love.

---

“I loved you too, Liz. I still fucking love you right now. I still do…” Maybe it was the sixth can of beer tonight? Maybe seventh. You lost track.

---

But that was all in past tense. It wouldn’t change the fact that you’re now single again for reasons that are still unknown to you. You wish you have something to do, just to distract your attention somewhere else. But unfortunately, this year is the time you took to fully prepare the upcoming GRE exam so your life is nothing but doing practice exams and studying.

How the fuck you’re supposed to study when your girlfriend just cut you off after your first anniversary? You stare at the window with a pair of eyes that are red from too much crying. Even the weather is not on your side right now, 5 days of consecutive raining already. There is no sunlight, just non-stopping tears dropping down from heaven.

You rub your eyes with the back of your bandaged palm: injured from slamming the table while you re-watched every video clip you filmed from the past dates. Blossom bite marks turned into purple bruise still clearly visible as you bit your forearm as a desperate measure to stop your never-ending grief. You caress your neck, where Liz left you a hickey at that night – the final proof of her existence on your body.

For maybe the tenth time today, you persuade yourself to pick yourself up. You throw your phone onto your bed without mercy; it bounces a few times before it lands on the pillow. The lockscreen is still the first picture you ever took with Liz. In that amusement park. She forced you to wear cat ears like she did and it had been your wallpaper ever since. You have yet to replace it.

You stare into the empty practice exam booklet, each problem is easier to solve than to figure out why she left you like this, broken and messy. The knots in topology are like how your heart is tangling and twitching. Those non-converging sequences in those metric spaces are cruel reminders of how the distance between you and Liz is approaching infinitely, no matter how you define it.

“What did I do wrong that you abandoned me like this, Liz?” You ask yourself this one question. For many years since you really dived into the world of academia, intellect had been the only weapon you had against the world. And apparently you want to know the answer to this more than anything else on the booklet. So, you attempt to solve your broken heart.

Maybe someone else is doing the same.

---

Liz is working her shift in the boba shop next to your campus. She looks tiny in front of the shelves full of tea jugs and syrup bottles. Never enough makeup can cover her grief and joyless face. The good news is, it is not busy because of the endless rain in the past a few days. The bad news is, it is not busy that Liz is guaranteed to be mourning the lost love.

“How can I help you today?” She manages to smile weakly, letting her dimple to the work of greeting a new customer walking in.

“An iced Thai tea, half sugar and half ice, please.” The young man says.

She picks up a sharpie on the cash register, writing the man’s order on the cup.

“50% of sugar and 50% ice, but 0% of probability that I can stop thinking about him.”

Liz lets out a quiet sigh as she turns to make the drink. She isn’t living a good life for days either, dark circles from sleep deprivation. Her apron is stained with tea and the residues of brown sugar that she’s too exhausted to clean up.

She adds the tea base into the plastic cup, one pump of syrup instead of two. Then she fills the cup with ice, the ice cubes bounce with each other, that crisp sound temporally overrides the sad rhythm of rain drops onto the roof.

“Shuck-a-shuck” Liz shakes the cup harder than usual, maybe she is hoping that she can shake you off her mind. But she knows for a fact that she cannot.

For the past a few days, she asked for longer shifts from her manager as she claimed she is free and willing to help. But certainly, Liz herself knows the exact reason why. She needs work to numb herself.

Each time the door chimes, she’d forget to breath for a fraction of a second before realizing it is just another stranger walking in for drinks.

She started to make mistakes.

“Excuse me, miss? I believe I didn’t order for extra espresso and less sugar? It is too bitter, it is undrinkable.” A middle-aged woman grumbles, pushing the cup on the table aggressively, while pointing at the dark sharpie inks, saying “Espresso +2”.

“I… I am so sorry ma’am, I’ll make you a new one right now.” Liz stares into the plastic cup.

Vietnamese Iced Coffee, light ice and half sugar, adding two shots of extra espresso. There is no way she gets the order wrong, the lady literally just asked for a plain Vietnamese Iced Coffee, no customizations.

It is because of her muscle memory.

It is because that was your favorite drink.

Liz pours the mistakenly made drink in the sink. The brown liquid swirls on the metals, trying one last time to resist before getting dragged to eternal darkness by gravity. She sighs, the cup is being thrown into trash, but that sharpie ink is like a mark that she can never erase.

She quickly remakes the drink; the woman grabs it from the table and leaves without looking at Liz again. Glad that she didn’t, because Liz is zoned out again.

“Oppa… How can you sleep? Two extra shots of espresso at 10 P.M.?” Liz winked her puppy eyes at you as you visited during one of her late-night shifts.

“Don’t worry about me, Liz-ah. I’m going to pull an all-nighter, I am so behind on the topics and I need to catch up!” You smiled, putting your credit card onto the card reader.

“Okie~ Give me a moment! You’ll be my last customer tonight anyway!” Liz gave you a big, warm smile as she started to make the drink for you.

“Take your time, babe. I’m not going anywhere until you’re home safe.”

“You’re the best, you know that right?” She was so happy.

It was beyond suspicious if you say you didn’t plan all this beforehand. Because the late-night walk to Liz’s place inevitably led to further events. You kissed her while you were still in the doorway. Her finger trembled so hard while trying to insert the key to her apartment. Her face looked like a peach that you eagerly wanted to taste.

Your hands were already all over her slim frame as Liz impatiently kicked the door shut after you.

“My room, Oppa…” Her breath hitched, one hand on your belt with another cupping your face.

---

The first night was rather a fever dream for both of you, she insisted you to sleep over as it was already past midnight when you two were done with the “stuff”. You oblige.

---

“We’re never going back… I am sorry Oppa, I… I wasn’t good enough for you.” Tears in Liz’s eyes drag her back to the reality.

As the final customer has his drink and leaves the door closed, Liz walks out to the door to flip that sign from “Welcome in!” to “Closed”. She stands under the dripping roof, staring into the heavy fog under the city lights. She sees your silhouette like a mirage that she always couldn’t catch up on.

“He’ll be better off without me.”

She thinks too much. Always too much.

Liz recalls that one night before your last final exam before you put that Bachelor’s degree in your bag. She called you for dinner together. You didn’t reject her, but you brought your laptop with you.

As much as she tried to cheer you up and said something like, “Oppa, I know you will be fine, you’re the smartest person I’ve ever met!” You didn’t respond. Your eyes are lifeless and locked onto the pages of complex variables.

“Oppa~ Take a break! Does my outfit look cute tonight?” She insisted, tapping on your shoulder. You flinched.

She saw you flinched.

You knew you didn’t mean to dismiss her like this but you were caught up in the middle of a theorem - unfortunately she thought you did.

“I’m so sorry, Liz-ah… I am really behind and the exam is tomorrow, if I don’t get an A, my GPA falls under the scholarship threshold and my Grad school will be a huge financial burden on me. I promise I’ll compensate you this weekend, do you want to go to that amusement park again? It’s gonna be on me.” You packed your stuff up, paid the bill and walked out the restaurant.

“It… it is ok Oppa, I understand.” She remained seated, tried her best to finish her plate of spaghetti. When she was done, she ran out of the door trying to chase you. But you were nowhere to be seen already.

“I’m a distraction… and he’s so far away… there is no way I am catching up with him”

That was the start of her grand scheme of overthinking.

And the storyline inevitably shifted to the day of your anniversary.

---

Liz is still standing under the roof. The shift had already ended, her only colleague had finished their cleaning tasks and locked the front door. Liz farewells the girl as her boyfriend comes to pick her up. She tried to hold it longer, making sure they’re far away enough.

She ducks down, burying her face into her palms and start crying.

“Oppa… I’ll try to get better; will you ever want me back?” She sobs.

Her mind travels back a week before, to that anniversary date. She hated herself for being smart at the wrong moment, that she got all the “messages” she THOUGHT you were giving her.

Liz could not contain her happiness when she saw your approaching her with that bouquet of pink roses, she dived into your embrace, mumbling how much she loved you.

Until you ‘accidentally’ slipped the fact that you took out a big chunk of your stipend for that night.

The rain has no sign of stopping, so does Liz’s crying. She looks so small under the huge banner of the boba shop, the raindrops ruthlessly accelerate into the ground before splashing onto her face. Her face that she intentionally put on extra layers of makeup to cover up her sadness.

How she wished she never overthought about a simple dinner and kept playing the game with you?

But she could not when you two finally sat down in the fancy restaurant and when the waitress handed the wine menu to you.

Liz was nervous, she didn’t know what to order.

“Oppa… we… we really don’t have to drink wine! It’s too expensive… I am fine with water, really.” She pulls the bottom of your shirt nervously.

But what she saw was how you confidently skipped two pages of the “By Glass” section and went directly into the “By Bottle” ones. She saw how you confidently pointed at the Tignanello on the reserve list that easily surpassed two days’ worth of her salary. Liz watched the waitress quickly returns to the table with a big smile like she treated you two as some VIPs. Her stomach dropped.

Liz took a sip of the wine when the waitress politely poured her half a glass. It tasted like velvet: smooth, soft. But it also tasted like some debt that she felt she could never pay back. She took a peek at you, tried to guess what’s hiding beneath your emotionless face.

A horrible idea had emerged from the bottle of her heart.

“It feels like a pity gift… I feel like I’m drinking away his future…”

Once the seed of doubt has been planted, it started to grow violently.

She recalled ten minutes before, when you explained to her the reason you picked Tignanello from the menu. Liz remembered you mentioned something about “elegance”, “high-end”. She couldn’t stop herself from thinking about your future academia society. You’d be no strangers to those fancy wines for those social gatherings, yet she’d still be the boba shop girl who would never fit in.

The compliments you gave her every five minutes to make her feel more confident, turned into “duties” in her ears. She didn’t hear you sincerely said how pretty she was at that night, but instead interpreted as your one last attempt to make her feel like she belonged in the place. The live band was grooving in the beats; saxophones were playing beautiful harmonies. But Liz’s heart was nothing but dead silence.

When the food was served, Liz tried one more time to observe you. But what she saw was just another big hit to her fluttering, overthinking heart. You were in the middle of introducing something interesting you read recently to Liz, while effortlessly picked up the smaller fork to eat your salad.

Yet, she froze when her main course was brought to her by the waitress. Liz stared at the row of polished silverwares like huge walls that separate her world from yours. She looked at your face one more time, you seemed pretty relaxed and like you were no strangers to those “big plates and little food” places.

She frightened. Your hands waved in the air while you commended the food, and you told her with a big smile on your face, “Liz-ah… their steak is really nice, do you like it? If you like it here, we can come here more often. You deserve the best, babe.”

“Do I really?” … Her heart skipped a bit.

It was at that moment; a decision was made by Liz.

“He… he’ll be better off without me, without someone who takes away his meal stipend for flowers and tuition money for a bottle of wine…”

You didn’t see a drop of tear fell of her beautiful chin in silence.

“But tonight, I’m going to give him everything. I’m leaving but I am going to love him so well that he’ll have enough warmth to last the entire lifetime…”

“Babe, it was really a nice meal. I love you so much! Wanna come to my place?” Liz managed to smile as happily as she could.

“Hell yeah…” You could read her implication; your face started to burn but you couldn’t contain your excitement and eagerness.

But maybe for the only time, that intellectual brain of yours guessed it wrong.

The taxi ride back to her place was nothing but silence. You thought you were both nervous for the incoming romance and intimacy for the anniversary night. But Liz had a mental breakdown, repeating the breakup message she’d sent you like a mantra.

You held her hand tightly as you exited the taxicab, you let her lead the way up the stairs. You loved her, you were excited and impatient. You started to plant soft kisses onto Liz’s neck on the stair case. The night breeze blew through your body and you both shivered, you pulled Liz closer to you for a hug, murmuring maybe for the fiftieth time for the night, “Liz… babe, I love you so much.”

It all sounded like a pitiful lie to her.

The door was unlocked; Liz flicked the light switch open. The dim, orange lamp adds a bit warmth to the atmosphere. You remembered how eager Liz was.

Her mouth was already all over yours. You thought it was the alcohol kicking in as you felt a bit lightheaded. But you didn’t expect Liz to be this... aggressive. It was not the first time you two had intimate moments like this, but she was always on that shy side. You were the one that initiated and took the lead.

Instead, she pushed you against her bedroom wall while she impatiently kicked off her flats. “Babe... give me everything tonight. Don’t leave any regret behind.” She said as she gave you another wet, open-mouthed kiss.

“Regret? Damn... this girl is going all in!” You felt like a winner. It must’ve been the date night you spent a lot of efforts planning made her so happy. It must’ve been that you showed how deeply you loved her, that she was moved and wanted to love you as much in return.

So, when her fingers scratched and dug a little bit too deep into your chest, you didn’t feel the pain. Instead, you took it as a love language of how deeply she loved you. But for Liz, as she watched the angry red lines bloom across your chest—marks left by her own desperate, searching fingertips - Liz didn’t see a sign of passion.

To her, those scratches were a handwritten ledger of everything she was about to give up. They weren't meant to hurt you; they were Liz’s final, selfish attempt to make sure that for at least a few days, you couldn't even change your shirt without feeling the ghost of her touch. Of course, you never knew it.

You felt so triumphed that you finally won her.

You felt so inspired that Liz finally gave herself to you.

You felt so loved that her body and yours are merging into one.

For Liz... it was how she tried so hard to trace every inch of your skin for one last time. It was her attempt to touch you, to feel you as much as possible. When she left, she could hold on to the texture of your body a bit longer. Liz was mentally archiving the shape of you. The knob on your shoulders for days of sitting and studying, the muscles of your arms.

Liz moved with a desperate, silent greed, memorizing the weight of your limbs like a student cramming for an exam she was destined to fail. She wanted to lock the heavy rhythm of your heartbeat into her bones, creating a relic of you inside her mind that she could mourn once she exiles herself from your future.

You kissed her back, only to realize Liz’s eyes were shut the whole time. Maybe she was just lost in the sensation, maybe you made her feel so overwhelmed from the desires that she needed to mute one of her senses to focus on the others.

What you didn’t know was how she tried her best to not lock onto you gaze before her decision crumbles. Her decision to break her heart, and yours, for your future success.

You shifted your hands lower and lower, light touches here and there. Her small but perky tits, flat tummy and eventually to her swollen entrance beneath the black lace pantie.

“Liz-Ah... you’re already so wet for me.” You teased, sliding one finger into her.

“Mmph....” She responded with nothing but a breathy moan. Her hips locked onto your hands a bit tighter, eyes still closed.

Although she tried her best to not let go of your finger inside her, the pleasure pushed her to give in. Her arms crossed around your neck; her pretty doll eyes started to flutter from the sensation.

Once, twice. She started to grind into your finger, so you added in one more into her.

“Oppa... you are making me feel so good... don’t ever leave me...” Liz slipped out a weak murmur. You thought it was just a “standard” thing girls say when they’re aroused.

Liz meant it. She never wanted you to go. But she knew she had to leave herself.

Your hardness almost broke through the fabric of your boxers, so you removed your fingers from Liz and started to unbuckle your belt.

She was lying on her back, breath hitching from the sensation. Liz put her delicate finger onto her clit, drawing lazy circles.

“Mmph… Oppa, give it all to me tonight… Let me feel you already.” Liz murmured.

“Yes… babe, tell me any time if it is too much, ok?” You can’t wait, lining the itching tip of your shaft against her wet entrance. You rub it a few times before pushing into her tight walls. For a moment, you wondered why she didn’t tell you to put on a condom like every single time you two had sex before.

Maybe she wanted to really feel you for once.

You kneeled on her mattress, hands hovering on her waists. Liz put a pillow beneath her back to support it, her big, watery eyes finally locked straight into your gaze. You couldn’t resist the way she looked at you, it only made you want to love her more.

Hence you started your thrusts, deeper and faster each time.

“Mmph… just like that Oppa… I love you… I LOVE YOU!” Liz cried out. “She must be really enjoying the pleasure right now.” You thought, your hips never stopped moving.

Her angelic moans were the catalyst of your unstoppable climax and you were surprised that how closely she clung onto your body and how tightly her fluttering folds squeezed your itching length. It had never been like this before. You grinned; felt so fucking proud of everything you gave her tonight.

“Liz… babe… come for me, don’t hold back…” You noticed how her eyes started to dilate; her legs started to tremble under your grasp. She was close.

“Yes! Yes… I’m gonna come… shit!” Liz rarely cursed, when she did, you knew she was on hell of a ride. She sat up from the bed, hiding her face into your neck as you kept pushing deep inside her. You relocated your palms from her small but firm butt onto her face, pulling her close for a long, wet kiss as you felt her giving herself into you.

“Oppa! I… I am coming! Ah shit… I can never love you enough.” A hitched cry came out from Liz’s glossy lips as she planted another kiss onto your neck.

But what came with her climax was unexpected. First of all, you felt her walls started to spasm, flooding your hard shaft with her sweet nectar. It lasted quite long, longer than it ever had. Meanwhile, you felt a hard sting on your neck. Liz bit down onto your skin with a force that was as hard as her orgasm.

A hickey? Liz had got that dark romantic spirit in her. You thought.

She didn’t feel the same.

Liz didn't just want to kiss you; she wanted to leave a bruise that looked like a blooming rose—a twin to the bouquet you bought her.

She wanted a mark that would turn purple and then yellow, a slow-fading sunset of your relationship. She silently screamed a goodbye into your soul while you groaned out her name in a victory cry.

“Liz!... Fuck…” You quickly felt the urge to come after her, with the pain on your neck surprisingly boosted your pleasure.

“Don’t pull out! Oppa… Let me feel you inside me… please!” Liz begged, eyes already full of tears.

“Did it feel that good?” You didn’t have the time to finish the thought as the pleasure started to emerge and rushed down your spine. Your abdomen started shaking violently, you could’ve help but to push Liz down to the bed and give her one final, deep thrust.

You soon gave in. Spurts after spurts of your essence were pumped into Liz’s body, mixing with her own nectar. Her walls kept fluttering, milking every last drop that you had left in your balls. The oxytocin soon kicked in, you dived your face into her chest, inhaling the faint scent of her vanilla body wash, mixing with a hint of the salt from her sweat.

You planted kiss after kiss on her tits, each time murmuring something like how you loved her and how you would never let her leave you.

“I really love you too… Oppa.” She smiled, faintly.

Your world soon blacked out as Liz kept caressing your messy hair with her fingers. Her addicting scent and soft strokes made your eyes feel heavier and heavier.

That was the last time you see her. What you didn’t witness after was how Liz hid herself next to your body for the whole night with non-stop sobbing and crying.

Next morning, she was already gone by the time you woke up from the beyond-exhausting sex that took place. A short text was sent to you, Liz told you she headed to work already. Your clothes were nicely folded beside you, a cup of coffee was already half-cold, still waiting for you to drink it.

“Last night was a new start of Liz and I, we’re destined to be lovers forever.” You told yourself.

“Last night was the finale of Oppa and I, we’re destined to be apart from now.” Liz cried again in work.

---

Two more cans of beer had been dumped into your stomach that’s filled with nothing but alcohol.

You don’t understand. You genuinely don’t. You thought that anniversary date was a banger. It was an extraordinary attempt to compensate Liz for not being able to take care of her as a girlfriend during the busy days of your exams.

You don’t understand why she’d left despite she seemed so happy at night when she held the bouquet. That bouquet you acquired by skipping your daily caffeine: your only source of happiness in this world besides Liz herself. You thought the roses were a promise. You didn't know she was looking at them like they were a funeral wreath.

You don’t understand why she felt so timid in that restaurant and asked you shyly, “w.., which fork is for salad again?”

“Ah babe, take it easy, use whichever one you feel like. You can even use the spoon, no one is gonna judge you here.” You responded with a confident grin because you wanted her to feel at home. But in this room filled with alcohol-scented air, you realized it was probably a mistake. Maybe the way you tried to liberate those etiquettes for her was making her feel uncomfortable and not belonging.

Your stomach had growled through the entire three-course meal, a hollow reminder of the breakfasts that you’d skipped for a month. But every time you looked across the candlelight at Liz, the hunger didn't matter. You’d trade a thousand meals just to see the way the restaurant’s gold light caught her eyes.

You had a spreadsheet. You knew exactly how many days of ramen it took to afford that bottle of wine she liked. You felt like a genius for pulling it off, like you were finally playing the part of the successful man she always deserved.

You had calculated the cost of that night down to the cent. You felt like a king when you handed the waiter your card, even though you knew your bank account was screaming. But now, staring at the empty beer cans, you feel like a fraud.

“Maybe she saw the way my hand shook when the bill came. Maybe she left because she realized she was dating a man who had to choose between a bottle of wine and a week of proper meals. Maybe she didn’t need someone who needed to skip his coffee just to buy her roses …” You murmur in the darkness.

She deserved better.

You stumble your way to the bathroom, not even bothering to turn on the lights. The dim moonlight shines through the curtains, projecting your silhouette onto the walls. The strong urge to vomit makes your gut tangle, but you can only cough and nothing comes out of your mouth. Because you haven’t eaten for a damn long while.

You try to ease the discomfort by splashing cold water onto your face. You stare at your reflection in the mirror but you don’t recognize this person in front of you. Eyes are red, beards are unshaved and hair is messy. Days of skipping meals had already made your jaw line visibly thinner.

Why would Liz ever love a guy like this?

A sense of self-pitying and guilt starts to wrench your exhaust heart. All those sweet moments you had with Liz started to become bitter. You begin to doubt yourself.

Maybe if you didn’t study at that dinner date, she would’ve not seen you as an academic prick that values textbooks more than his girlfriend.

Maybe if your lips didn’t twitch when you signed the bill, she would’ve really trusted you that her life would be better being with you.

Maybe if you didn’t slip the fact that the bouquet was the product of you cutting your caffeine… at least you should’ve still gone to the shop to see her after work.

Or maybe, if you were simply a better person… better to the extend to deserve an angel like her.

You think, at this point, the reason why she left you was clear enough. But you want to give it one more chance because something you see from the mirror.

The hickey that she planted on your neck.

It had already turned yellowish, the bruise that you interpreted as a mark of eternal love was actually an unforeseeable goodbye. By the time it fades, Liz will be long gone. Your relationship with her would already vanish into the void. You hover your trembling fingers onto the faint mark, so afraid that the last tether you have to Liz would disappear. You stare dead into your reflection. One last time.

You wake up your phone, the picture of you and Liz wearing cat-ears is still there.

You just turned it into black and white.

You click into your contacts; the entire page of recent calls is nothing but Liz. But none of the calls ever went through, why should it be any different this time?

“She’s not coming back…” You cry out, tapping the call button regardless.

---

Liz is still standing beneath the roof in the pouring rain. Perhaps an hour had passed? Maybe two. She couldn’t keep track. She had been waiting. Waiting for what? She didn’t even know.

“Oppa… if you still have feelings for me, would you call me? I blocked your number before because I was so afraid that I couldn’t stop myself from running back to you the moment I hear you speak. But, I… I don’t dare to call you first, I’m so afraid that you got mad at me. Even you did, I am not blaming you at all. It was my fault that I left you like this… you… you’re just so far away, I’ll never be able to catch up to you.” She sobs.

Liz then feels something vibrating in the pocket of her jeans. She pulls out her phone and the screen is lit. The same lockscreen as yours: you, her, cat ears. She thinks it is her colleague calling to check if she’s home safe.

“Oh my god…” A fire is lit both on her face and inside her heart.

---

“Liz!!! Can you hear me? Liz!!!” You scream as for a miracle; Liz picks up your call.

You can hear nothing but rain dropping to the ground and occasional car-honking. She does not say a world. Only the consistent, non-stopping rain is reminding you she’s still there. Is she listening?

“L…Liz-ah, I am so sorry.” You quiet down, afraid that you’ll scared Liz away and this one and only chance will go to waste. Chill until you at least figure out the reason.

“Liz... I... should’ve not studied when you asked me out.” You start what you know is the chain of confession and apology.

“I… I was so afraid that if I fucked up that test, I would miss that scholarship threshold. If I didn’t get that stipend, I would be forced to go back to my parents’ house and attend school in my hometown! I… I couldn’t risk to leave you, Liz-ah…” You try your best to be calm, but the sobbing betrays you.

She does not say a thing. You can barely hear Liz’s uneven breath through the call, maybe she is giving you a chance? You don’t know, but you proceed.

“I am so sorry Liz… I should’ve been more confident that night. I really looked like a fraud, weren’t I? I must’ve been wolfing down the steak because I’d never been to such a fancy place before, I am sorry if that made us look bad. Liz-ah, please forgive me! I… I was indeed very hungry…” You are a stutter, crying mess although you tried your best to behave.

“Because I ate fucking instant noodles for weeks to save up money! Liz… I promise I’ll work harder; I’ll find a part-time job to give you more. Please! Please give me a chance!” You are both drunk and sad as hell, your neighbor may even call the police if they can see you hysterically screaming into the phone.

She is still speechless. Only a wet, repeating sound of something hitting onto the walk way.

“Thud, thud, thud…”

You see your own lifeline slip through your finger. But you want to give it a last stand.

“Please… don’t hang up! Liz-ah… I didn’t lose interest in you because I visited your boba shop less frequently!” You heart sinks, tears dropping without control. This is the last thing you want her to know. But this may be the final chance you get to talk to her, she has to know.

She deserves to know… even if that makes you look really bad.

“I HAD to cut my daily iced coffee… not because I didn’t want to see you! I switched to drinking Celsius instead… it was cheaper that way. So, I could add one more dozen of pink roses to the bouquet to make it 24… Liz-ah, do you know why?” You sigh, anticipating a response that you have no faith in receiving.

“Because I love you 24 hours a day. Liz…” You fall onto the floor.

Nothing. Only the frantic noise through the phone as the wind blows harshly into her microphone.

There is a weird sense of relief creeping up your chest, you stare into your phone emptily.

“She’s letting me speak, not because she wants to stay, but because she’s kind. Liz was always kind. She’s giving me a final defense before reading out my death sentence. She’s waiting for me to finish so she can say 'Goodbye' and hang up forever.”

You’ll be glad that you made the biggest mistake in this relationship with Liz.

“Liz! I am sorry! I never deserved you …” You scream one last time into the phone.

Weird enough, you hear your own voice echoing back to your ear through the door. Fortunately, the excess alcohol (double digits of cans, to be exact) did not fully take away your ability to speculate.

You dash to your apartment door like a mad dog, swing the door handle open violently. The door smashes your arm but you don’t care. Because Liz is there.

She is a sobbing mess, just like yourself. Her breath is still hitching; her chest moves up and down so fast that you think she is about to pass out. Her makeup is almost gone, only a faint line of her eyeliners staining on each side of her cheeks. Strands of her messy hair stick onto her forehead because of the rain.

“Oppa… I am so sorry…” Liz falls into your chest, looking up to you. Her pretty doll eyes are watery, filled with nothing but pure guilt.

It is at this moment; you figure everything out. Liz was not acting to be patient; she was not trying to offer you her final bit of mercy by letting you finish everything you wanted to say to her before burying your relationship in the past.

She was sprinting in the rain.

She was running like she was about to lose it all.

She was letting the rain showering her slim frame, hoping that can cleanse her guilt.

She was letting the storm brushing through her shaking body, praying that can blow away how much she was mistaken.

Occasional cars drove pass her, splashing water onto Liz. But she didn’t give a damn.  

People gave her weird looks as a girl was running in the rain, crying like someone had hurt her. But Liz couldn’t care less.

Because all she cared was you.

---

She can barely stand from the exhaustion of sprinting a mile in the heavy rain. You gently pull her into the apartment so she doesn’t catch a cold. “Oppa... I owe you an apology… is it too late to apologize?” Liz’s tone is weak, but her gaze with nothing but sincere.

“It is never too late… Liz-ah! I… I am the one that should say sorry.” You take off her rain-soaked jacket, leave it on the couch while pulling her closer.

“Oppa… I thought I was a liability of you… I am so sorry…” Liz murmurs, her chest moves up and down unevenly.

“Liz-ah… you’re never… I can never love you enough. I promise I’ll give you more from now on, would you give me that chance?” You inhale deeply, trying to take in all of her scent. The vanilla shampoo is fading, gradually replaced by the fresh smell of the rain.

“Oppa, I will never leave again!” She sobs.

You stare at her face; she is still gorgeous despite the blurred makeup. Her cheeks are flushed from the intense running, looking a peach that you suddenly have the urge to acquire a taste.

“Liz-ah, we can save that conversation for later. Now we are gonna get you dry before you get sick, ok?” You let her go, fingers caressing her wet hair. Liz’s tiny body is still shaking; you know for a fact that she’d get a fever if a hot shower is not applied soon.

You carefully hold her hand through the messy kitchen area that you didn’t bother to organize at all: bear cans everywhere, some instant noodle crumbs are just idling on the table, dished still yet to be washed.

“Oppa, did you drink all of this?” Liz asks, while sneezes heavily.

“Yeah… was too sad to have you go like this, but hey! Aren’t you here again? Let… let me worry about it later, we’re gonna take of you first, princess.”

She is amused from the title, one hand covering her mouth shyly but her grin is so obvious that she can’t hid even with both of her hands. You turn the water to the hottest temperature; the mirror starts to fog up as you look at Liz and yourself in the reflection.

Now you know how difficult was the past few days for both of you. Liz’s dark circles are almost at the size of her big eyes, her jawline just visibly thinner like yours. There is her tiny smile as she notices you staring at her through the mirror.

You won’t let her go this time. Not again. You turn around and lean in to kiss her.

Her pink lips are like fire that ignites the foggy bathroom, you cup her face with both of your palms as you keep savoring Liz’s plump lips. You both feel the hunger and eagerness that you tried so hard to suppress for days, now it is like a ruthless flood rushing through a falling dam.

Your tongue quickly enters her mouth, swirling with hers like you’re about to lose it all. You are. Your fingers impatiently unbutton Liz’s blouse, while she stumbles back a few steps to sit on the sink for support.

“Oppa…” This time you don’t let her finish, rarely. Days of separation and yearning for Liz had turned you into a desperate soul, if you had any left. Your hands wrap around her back, unhooking her bra in a shaky motion. The straps fall onto her body, revealing the full view of her upper body.

“I… I love you.” You stutter, before diving into her small but beautifully shaped tits. You put one of her nipples into your mouth softly, sucking her carefully. You are letting Liz know that you never abandoned her, instead you are always worshipping her.

“Mmph!” An airy moan comes through her mouth. You don’t stop. You know she needs it.

You flick your tongue back and forth around her nipple, you feel Liz’s breath hitching each time your hungry movement touches her sensitive tip. You don’t ignore the rest of her stunning frame, of course. Hands all over her firm butt – not the biggest in size, but absolutely perfect for you to grab.

Liz starts to feel the sensation that had been absent for the past week as well, her shaking hands are already on her jeans, unzipping the denim herself before lifting her hips to let the fabric drop to the humid wooden floor.

“I wanna see Oppa too, take your pants off for me~.” Her voice is like honey. You oblige without any hesitation. Your fingers are just as unsteady as hers, missing once before unbuckling your belt and kicking off your pants and boxer.

Your length springs free, Liz wraps her hand around it immediately. A shiver travels up your spine, assaulting your brain that you let out an involuntary moan. “I see it now, Oppa is not lying. I still turn you on~” She teases.

“Fuck… Liz, you always did. Always.” You manage to respond with a cracking tone, hands sliding into her plain black pantie with a white bow on the tip. She is already wet. Wet to the point that friction is almost non-existent as your finger slides directly into her juicy pussy.

“And you’re doing the same to me, oppa… you’re stretching me open with you finger… give me more, Oppa.” Liz mumbles into your ear while you bury your face into her other nipple. You leave slurpy, wet kisses all the way from her tits down to her tummy, to between her legs. The mushy, slightly salty scent of arousal dashes directly into your nostril through the thin fabric.

You kiss her folds through her damp panties; Liz’s response is instant. Her body locks tight and her watery eyes lose focus for a heartbeat. You take your time, hands roaming on her inner thighs and you alternate between touches and light scratches with your fingers.

“Oppa… Please do it already!” Liz moans while her legs clamping your head slightly.

“Aw~ Liz babe… look at you, how impatient. Weren’t you the one that made me wait, baby girl?” Suddenly a twisted thought comes across your head: her innocent, aroused face turned you on in such of a wicked way. You always gave her everything without any second thoughts, but maybe you want to listen to her ask for it?

“Honey, you deserve everything from me. But you are going to use your words, say it out loud and I’ll give it to you. Now what do you want from me?” A smirk climbs up to the tip of your lips.

“Hhmph… Oppa, you’re so bad! I… just… please!” Liz’s face turns from a peach into a tomato.

“Oh. Am I the bad one? I thought I was the victim,” you pout with an obviously fake impatience. “I think you are the bad girl that blocked me without a heads up! But it is fine, because I loved you as always… Tell me exactly though, ‘please’ what? Please let go of you so you can shower, right?” You tease.

“Oppa… I hate you! Please… please eat…” She now let’s go of your cock, instead both hands are covering her faces right now. Her face that is so red from the arousal and the embarrassment.

“Please eat a proper meal? Yeah… I’ve been dumping instant noodles into my poor tummy cuz of you, baby Liz? Hmm?” You push one more time.

She snaps. “Ah! Oppaaaa~ Please eat my pussy already! U… use it however you want if it makes you feel better!  T…treat me as your cumdump for the night if you wish… (sobs) I am so sorry Oppa…”

You snap too.

You never expected such lewd words would come from the purest girl you had in your life. But you also did not mean to hurt her even more. You’re here to make her feel your love, not to treat her as someone who exists just to fulfill your desires. You don’t want her to feel sorry for you, you just want her to be there. To simply exist.

So, you answer her by gently pulling off her panties down to her ankles and approach her swollen folds slowly. “Liz-ah… I was just kidding… I’ll make you feel really good. I try.”

You plant a soft kiss on Liz’s clit; her hands reach for your head in a blink of an eye. She pulls you closer as you slowly worship her beautiful pussy. Your lips wrap around her clit, sucking it like you’re tasting the cherry on top of a cupcake. The effect is electric, her body shivers faster – you are certain that it is not because of the rain previously, it is purely from arousal.

You insert your tongue into her folds, gently slides it across Liz’s wet, smooth walls. You look up to her. Her doll eyes are already shut from the sensation and her back arches forward to let you take in more of her.

“Look at me baby, look at how I am taking care of you, how I am making you feel good.” You murmur while your mouth is still doing its work – non-stop licking and kissing.

“Mmph…” Liz opens her eyes; you kneel on the bathroom floor while your head is deep between her thighs. The view makes the gap between her breathes shorter and shorter. “Oppa... don’t stop, I am so close!” Your oral movement is nowhere close to a halt, not when your precious Liz asks you like this.

You keep lapping her pussy with nothing but pure hunger and devotion. “C…come for me, Liz-ah… I am always yours.” You encourage.

“Don’t stop! Oppa… don’t you ever stop!” Liz is almost there, her pupils start to dilate and her thighs clamping even tighter.

“Give it all to me Liz… I’ve been waiting, fuck… I missed you so bad. Come for me…” You plant another soft kiss onto her swollen clit, and there it comes.

“F…fuck! I am coming!” Liz reaches her climax; her legs shake violently that she has to hold on to your head to not fall of from the sink. Her pussy flutters, waves of waves of her nectar flooding into your mouth. You take them all in, licking her folds continuously through her orgasm.  

You get back up on your feet; legs already numb from the kneeling. But you feel so relaxed because you gave Liz the pleasure, she’s always deserved. She pulls you in for an open mouth kiss, tasting herself from your lips.

Maybe a minute had passed, maybe more. You finally pull back, Liz walks into the shower before embracing her from behind. Liz’s body is still trembling from the aftershocks of her orgasm; her thighs slick not just from the shower but from the way she came so hard on your tongue.

You hold her closer, water streaming down her back, washing away the rain and the days of grief. Her small frame fits perfectly against yours, her wet hair plastered to her shoulders, those big doll eyes half-lidded and glassy with lingering pleasure and fresh tears.

“Oppa…” Liz whispers while turning around, barely audible over the spray. Her fingers trace the fading hickey on your neck, then the scarlet scratches she left on your chest the night she thought she was saying goodbye.

“I was so stupid… I thought I was saving you from me.”

You silence her with a deep kiss, tasting the salt of her tears mixed with the clean heat of the water. “No more thinking, Liz-ah. Just feel me. Let me show you how much I need you.”

Liz reads it. She arches her back forward, hands supporting herself on the door handle. Her full, bouncy butt is on full display. You gulp, already anticipating the long-gone warmth of Liz. You waste no time, lining up your itching cock in front of her folds – still wet from the previous release.

“Liz-ah, I… I am going in, let me know any time if you want me to chance anything.” You nervously make an announcement.

“Give it all to me, Oppa… however you like.” She turns her head around, before biting her bottom lip intentionally to allure you.

And it fucking works.

Her fucking dimple always works, never fail to trap you.

“Liz… you’re fucking gorgeous, do you know that?” You grunt, pushing all the way into her slick pussy in one go. She is incredibly wet, and warm like she had always been. Her walls are clenching onto your twitching length so hard like she’s so scared to ever let you go again.

“Mmph… I missed you Oppa… I missed you in me like this, filling me up really good.” Liz moans softly – she normally wouldn’t talk in sex, but you know she means every word if she does say something.

“Liz-ah, I missed you so much too.” You realize you haven’t released yourself for a week too. And as expected, the urge to do so is incredibly strong thanks to how smooth and velvety Liz feels.

Then you start your thrusting. The shower room is like a sauna right now; the mirror had been fogged up and the view of you slamming into Liz’s body becomes a blur.

You hold on to Liz’s hips as you gradually lose yourself into her wetness and warmth. A few breathy moans escape your throat while you keep pushing in and out of Liz in an almost frantic motion. The gut-wrenching self-pitying and loneliness are replaced by neediness and hunger.  

You fuck into her harder, the hot water amplifies the sound of your wet skin slapping onto hers. Liz’s sobs and moans are getting louder at the same time, raw, aroused. “Oppa… just like that, don’t stop please!” Her tone cracks, half from the relief and half from the pleasure after all those empty days.

You lean forward, body pressing again her back. One hand slides up her chest and caresses her tits while the other tightens the grip on her hip. Every thrust is sending ripples through her tiny frame, her ass bounces back against me with each deep stroke.

“Mmph… Liz-ah, you are perfect, so fucking perfect.” You groan against her, kissing her lobe. She whimpers, pushing back harder, her body demanding more. She reaches back, nails scraping your thigh, urging you even deeper.

“I love you… I love you so much, Oppa…” The words tumble out between shaky breaths, her walls fluttering wildly around you. You feel her getting close again, legs trembling, breath coming in short desperate bursts.

You slide your hand down between her legs, rubbing tight circles on her sensitive clit while you keep pounding into her from behind. “Come for me again, baby. Let me feel it.” That’s all it takes.

Liz cries out sharply, her walls pulse violently. Her second wave of climax is doing its work to push you through the finish line with her.

“Liz… I love you…fuck!” You groan, slamming deep one final time. The flood overwhelms your sanity, your cock twitches violently, spilling every drop of your own essence inside her. You keep yourself deep inside her until the mixture of your nectar and her juice leaks out around your cock and running down Liz’s thighs. You stay locked together, panting heavily, her back still pressed to your chest as the water keeps pouring over you both.

Slowly you pull out, turning her gently to face you. Her eyes are glassy, cheeks flushed deep pink, that sweet dimple showing even now. You kiss Liz softly at first, then deeper, holding her tight under the steady spray.

There’s no word needed. You’ve already found your rhythm under the pouring, warm water.

Neither of you want to move as you two enjoy the most perfect moment. Euler’s stupid little formula doesn’t even come close in terms of perfection.

---

A proper shower took place. You took your time washing every inch of your purest angel clean, before wrapping her around with a big towel and kiss your forehead gently. Liz laughs shyly, “Oppa~”

“Hmm?” You raise an eye brow.

“I… I didn’t bring my clothes over, hehehe…” She smiles.

“Ah, that is no problem at all Miss, I shall be right back.”

You walk into your bedroom and open your wardrobe. There is that oversized T-shirt you always let her “borrow” when she stayed over. You return to the bathroom, patiently putting the shirt on Liz’s tiny body. The tip of the shirt even reaches her knees and you cannot stop yourself from laughing. She’s back.

“Stop~ Oppa…” Liz blushes.

“Alright princess… it was a really… tough night. We shall get some rest?” You offer.

“Yes, Oppa.” Liz nods quietly.

To her surprise, you scoop her into your princess carry. Liz keeps laughing, mumbling something like, “Let me down!” or “Are we really doing this?”

She then notices the fading hickey on your neck. She then kisses the mark she left on you last week, bringing your attention back to her.

“Hmm?” You ask.

“The hickey, Oppa. I thought it was a farewell kiss.” Liz says.

“That’s too naïve of you babe, it is a milestone and a new beginning.” You pout, putting her onto your bed.

You fall onto the mattress after her, no more mess, just clean sheets and each other. You pull the duvet over both of you, the fabric still smelling faintly of the laundry detergent you stole from Liz a month ago - a scent you had spent the last week burying your face in while you sobbed.

“Oppa?” she whispers, her voice small and muffled against your skin.

“Yeah, babe?”

“No more skipping meals,” she says, and you feel her grip on your shirt tighten. “I heard everything. I was running, and I was crying, and I was so mad at myself…” Liz looks up, “I thought I was the one distracting you.”

“L…Liz-ah, I… was trying so hard to be someone who can give you everything. But I forgot to be the man that just… loves you with my heart.” You confess with a shaky laugh.

She leans in, her forehead resting against yours.

“Tomorrow,” she whispers, a tired dimple appearing. “We’re going to the market. We’re buying real food. And then... I’m taking you to the shop. I’m making you the biggest boba on the menu, and you’re going to sit there and watch me work, and you aren’t going to think about a single equation. Okay?”

“Okay Liz.” you breathe out, the last of the tension leaving your shoulders.

---

Morning.

The sun does not come out like it is supposed to, like a grand finale of a fiction. But you have Liz still snoring quietly on your side. And that’s enough. That’s more than enough.

You stare at outside of the window, the rain is still going non-stop, the sky is still dim. But you reach out for your phone, unlocking it and go directly into the settings. Your fingers move fast, and a satisfied smirk is on your face.

You put your phone back onto the night stand and hide yourself back under the duvet again.

Your phones are side by side; you tap both of the screens at the same time. The identical picture shows up on the lockscreen.

You.

Liz.

With cat ears.

Colorful this time. The black and white filter is gone.

Although she found it stressful sometimes, like today where she'd only just gotten back from class to find David already waiting for her extra lessons, most of the time she actually enjoyed the challenge and opportunity to push herself.

Despite being fairly attractive with her pale skin, subtle Asian features, long hair and slender athletic build she spent most of her time studying or practicing so she had never had a 'proper' boyfriend. She didn't even think about sex all that often and just didn't get involved in her girlfriends' giggly chats about famous firsts.

"You know you don't have to wear a uniform at the college right?" David said looking up at here a smile on his lips.

"Haha, I know…but I like it. It helps me get into the right zone ya know? Anyway what's wrong with it?" Ningning shuffled and looked down at her plain grey skirt, blue sweater vest and white shirt.

"Oh..hehe no don't get me wrong I like it, I was just wondering is all."

"Usually you're not early or I would have had time to change!" she stuck her tongue out at him in a playfully mocking gesture.

"Nah stockings are definitely you," David said and moved his hand over onto her thigh.

Ningning looked up at him slightly surprised at the warmth of his hand, their eyes met as he slid his hand slowly under her skirt.

"Errm…what are you doing?" she asked as she explored the feelings suddenly rushing through her body.

"Just tell me to stop if you're uncomfortable Ningning." As he spoke his hand reached the warm centre between her legs and began to press against her panties.

"I..err..ss..David." She instinctively opened her legs slightly, letting them uncross as David moved closer and began caressing her pussy.

As he moved in and planted a soft kiss on her lips, his other hand stroking her hair she realized she'd been consciously ignoring how she felt about him for weeks. He was older but fit and well built but what really made her lie awake at night, was how gentle and patient he was. He seemed to know the answers to all her questions but never looked down on her for not knowing something. Not like some of the professors at the college did.

David's fingers had made their way round the side of her panties and were now gently probing her moist slit which brought her attention back to the moment. She kissed him deeply letting her tongue slip into his mouth.

"Lie back," he whispered huskily as he turned her side ways across the bed and slid down her body pressing his face and hands over her pert breasts as they forced against the material of her shirt.

Ningning sighed as David slid his thumbs under the sides of her panties and slipped them down over her legs. He then returned to her slit quickly and paused for a moment his mouth inches above her pink virgin pussy.

"You're so fucking beautiful Ningning," he said and slid his tongue slowly over her pussy lips.

Ningning gasped and pressed her head back hard into the bed as David began teasing and sucking on her pussy and clit. Every now and then he'd probe within her body with his tongue each time forcing a deep moan or excited yelp from Ningning.

David knew what he was doing and it didn't take long for Ningning to climax. Her tight young body tensing as her thighs and hips shook. As she panted enjoying the sensations, he leaned over her and planted a wet kiss on her lips while gently un-buttoning her blouse.

He then took her hands and lifted her up to the edge of the bed. The front of his pants were taut around his dick which popped out as he undid his belt and fly. Ningning looked up at him with a slightly unsure nervous expression.

"You wanna try?" David asked as he dropped his pants and held his rock hard cock in front of her face.

"Hmmm I guess…"

"You don't have to, if you don't want to…" he said stroking her hair.

"No it's okay I'd like to try it." She took his cock in her hand and cautiously licked the tip. David took her head in his hands and guided her mouth onto his meat. She slid her lips carefully around the head and explored the tip with her tongue tasting the salty precum.

David pushed slightly, sliding his cock deeper into her mouth; she slurped around the shaft as saliva dripped over her chin. Eventually David reached her gag reflex and pulled back as she continued to play her tongue over his meat.

"Fuck you're good at this Ning!"

He continued to pump slowly into her mouth for a few minutes and then pulled out. He knelt down again and slipped his hand between her legs probing her wet mound.

"Are you ready?" He asked pushing her back onto the bed and planting another passionate kiss on her lips as he continued to finger her.

"Mmmm…yes." David slid onto the bed near her and lifted her up onto his lap. "We should take it easy okay? Just go at your own pace."

Ningning took off the rest of her shirt and bra leaving only her skirt and stockings on, and then lifted herself up to position David's cock against her wet pussy. David took her by the waist and supported her weight as she slowly pressed downwards.

"Oh my god," Ningning gasped as his head penetrated her. David gave her time to get used to it before lowering her further onto his shaft. Eventually he felt resistance and Ningnings face bunched up into a wince. David paused for a moment and then lifted his upper body and pulled her down sharply onto his cock.

"OH FUCK!" Ningning squealed and started to struggle but David held her tightly until she stopped squirming and opened her eyes which glistened with tears.

"It's okay, just give it a moment for you to get used to it baby…relax."

The burning tearing pain in Ningning's pussy began to subside and was replaced with a wonderful sense of being full. It still hurt and felt like he might be tearing her apart but she was getting used to it slowly. Eventually David let her move and she slid off his shaft leaving a few blood trails.

David took control of her again and thrust back into her pussy holding her against his body as he thrust slowly and deeply into her.

"Un, un, un..oh," Ningning moaned with each thrust closing her eyes and enjoying the building sensation inside her.

Again her body convulsed and contracted sending shock waves up her spine and making her arch her back against David's arms that were clasped around her. Her once virgin pussy gripped tightly around his dick almost bringing him to climax with her. Ningning felt his meat twitch and throb within her and suddenly opened her eyes.

"Wait don't cum in me!"

"Don't worry Ning." David turned her over and laid her on the bed, then thrust a few more times into her tight wet pussy, before pulling out and blowing his load over her heaving belly and crumpled skirt. He then lay down next to her and smiled planting a quick kiss on her cheek.

"Wow, you are so fucking hot Ningning!" Ningning slid her hand in a circle on the sticky cum that was pooling on her belly and lazily rubbed her slightly sore pussy with the other hand. They lay there for a moment and then David got up and helped her back to her feet. "Okay you go grab a bath and I'll make lunch…when are your parents coming back again?"

"Not until like tomorrow. Probably pretty late too."

"Perfect. Get cleaned up and I'll be in the lounge…oh and make sure you put your stockings back on sexy," he winked and walked out.

About an hour later Ningning came through to the lounge wearing nothing but her towel and white stockings. As she entered the room she paused when she saw David and four other men sitting and standing around the room.

"Oh…errm did you invite people?"

"Hey Ning…yea these are a few of my friends, I was telling them about how cute you are and they asked if they could come over and meet you. It's okay don't be shy babe."

Ningning looked around the room nervously as a couple of the men moved closer to her on either side.

"Hey honey, I'm Matt and that's Rich. You know it's so warm out, I bet you could air dry pretty quick. What do you think Rich?"

"Yep I bet so. I know I'm feeling warm, might have to take my shirt off soon."

As they spoke the men slowly removed Ningning's towel and let it fall behind her.

"Holy Shit!" gasped Rich as various other remarks and compliments were muttered around the room, which made Ningning blush. While she felt very exposed she kind of liked the attention she was getting from all these sets of hungry eyes around her, and she could already see their hard-ons pressing against their pants. This made her heart pound with both fear and excitement.

"Come over here sweetie. I'm Vance and this is Tony. And I hear you know David pretty well already."

Vance was a tall guy who was standing near the couch. He beckoned her over and then pushed her shoulders slightly till she knelt.

"So, I also hear you have a hidden talent," he said with a smirk as he undid his belt and dropped his trousers. His cock was slightly thinner than David's but a bit longer and it stood pointing at the ceiling.

"Wanna show me how good you are honey?" he said as he took hold of Ningning's head with both hands.

"Wait…David?" Ningning asked turning to try and see where David was.

"It's okay Ning, these guys are my friends they'll take good care of you."

Vance directed her head back to his stiff member, pressing it against her lips. Ningning's heart was pounding but the thought of this room full of fit older men all looking at her naked body, kneeling on the thick white carpet of her parent's lounge was making her pussy wet again. Plus she didn't actually see any way out of this so she opened her lips and allowed Vance's cock to slip into her hot mouth.

Vance let her suck his cock for a few minutes then began slowly thrusting into her mouth. This made Ningning gag once or twice but she found that her reflex could be controlled more and more as she felt his engorged head pressing down her throat. She was actually getting into it with her eyes closed and low hums escaping her mouth round the meat, when suddenly she heard Vance grunt and his shaft twitched. He grabbed her head and pressed his cock hard into the roof of her mouth before blowing his load down her throat.

Ningning's eyes shot open and she gasped coughing and choking at the sudden taste. Vance let her go and she fell to the ground still coughing and wiping her mouth with her arm. As she recovered herself she felt strong arms lifting her up at the waist and she was picked up and dropped, still in a kneeling position on the sofa.

David moved round in front of her leaning down to kiss her cheek and as he did he whispered, "Relax sweetie." He then straightened up with a smile and presented his stiff cock to her face. As Ningning looked up into his eyes still unsure and scared, she felt fingers slide down over her pert ass and into her slit. She tried to turn to see who it was but David caught her head with his hands and guided her mouth down onto his rod.

As she began to suck she felt the fingers exploring her pussy, probing gently until they brushed her already sensitive clit. She involuntarily let out a quiet moan around David's meat which elicited sniggers and comments from around her. Then she felt warmth around her pussy and a tongue began lapping against her cunt lips. It was forceful and he clearly knew what he was doing as it didn't take long for her pussy to begin leaking juices again. As she sucked David's cock deep into her throat, she closed her eyes and moaned louder and louder.

For a few moments that felt like forever she was in ecstasy as the hot mouth pleasured her throbbing clit, and then suddenly it was gone. She whimpered around David's cock and tried to look back but her head was held firmly. She didn't have to wait long though, soon she felt the eager head of one of the guys' cocks slide over her dripping slit and press against her tight tummy. Then he drew back and pressed into her body hard, her eyes squeezed shut as she moaned loudly around David's meat until the guy bottomed out in her and held it for a moment for her to adjust.

David took hold more tightly on her head and almost in synchronization they both began fucking her. The guy behind thrust hard and deep but kept the pace slow, so she felt every inch of his cock ramming into her tight, wet pussy as David slid his shaft equally slowly down into her throat while she sucked, licked and drooled over it.

It only took a few thrusts more from David before he also blew his load deep into her throat. This time she was more ready for it and sucked hard swallowing every last spurt from his twitching dick. Most of her mind was focusing on the deep fucking she was getting from behind, and as David's cock withdrew from her mouth followed by trails of cum and drool, she grunted and moaned with each impact.

"Oh my god you are so fucking hot and tight!" the guy behind her exclaimed as he continued thrusting deep and hard into her soaking pussy.

"Oh…oh…oh," Ningning moaned again and again each time she felt her tight hole filled. Her eyes closed and mouth open she had almost lost herself to the intense sensations engulfing her body. She suddenly realized as the thrusting from behind became slightly more irregular and she heard the guy panting and grunting over her, she'd not seen any condoms on any of the guys.

"Wait!" She panted suddenly tensing up. "Where are you going to cum?!"

The guy behind her slowed and then pressed hard into her as he leaned down over her back so that his lips were near her ear.

"Five guys are gonna fuck every one of your holes all day long sweetie…don't worry we're gonna fill you up." He chuckled as he straightened up again gripping on to her hips and resuming his fucking fast and hard. Ningning's heart was now pounding and her eyes were wide as the fog of new sensations was lifted by what she'd just been told. She tried to move but the guy fucking her was holding on tight and ramming his cock into her as fast and hard as he could almost knocking the wind out of her with each slapping impact.

Ningning was being pressed forward as the guy's hands pressed down hard onto the small of her back. She squealed as her pussy burned from the intense fucking then suddenly the guy thrust one last time hard into her, jolting her body forward as he unloaded deep inside her young pussy. She felt every hot spurt as it blasted into her ravaged hole.

"Oh my fucking god…oh my fucking god," She moaned between ragged breaths.

Finally the guy slipped out of her tingling pussy dragging a trail of sticky cum that oozed out and down her pale thigh soaking into the stockings. Ningning was dazed again and just laid there her ass high in the air; her eyes squeezed shut and her mouth a breathless 'O'.

She didn't have long to recover before another set of hands was around her waist, lifting her up and re-positioning her over the third dick she'd taken today. She tried weakly to protest but the other guys were close in around her holding her legs and arms, caressing her breasts and fingering her dripping tender pussy lips.

The guy holding her waist sat down on the couch resting her on his pelvis, his rock hard cock pressing against her pussy. He let her fall back onto his bare chest and reaching round her sides guided his dick into her.

"Ow..ow..hmm..mmm."

Ningning's cunt felt sore and tender but the sensation of having it filled again was nice. This guy's cock felt wider than the others, stretching and satisfying her. Once he was all the way inside the others backed off, except for Matt who stepped up on the couch next to her and took hold of her head.

"Suck it slut."

Ningning looked up at him as he pressed his meat to her lips. 'Oh my god' she thought '…I am a slut'. Sure she's not exactly chosen to fuck all these guys but here she was and deep down she knew she was enjoying it.

Rich lifted her up slightly and then began thrusting up into her stretched pussy. At first Ningning was a little awkward in this new position, only able to focus on either being fucked or sucking but not both. Eventually as both dicks sawed into her she began to get her bearings and started using her legs to rock herself up and down on the shaft she was impaled on.

Once again the deep warm feeling flooded over her and she closed her eyes sucking noisily and wetly onto the hard cock between her lips while she bounced up and down, pulling almost all the way off Rich before slamming down until her ass pressed into his crotch. As she got into the rhythm she suddenly felt a new intensity building within her young body. She'd felt it before of course when she masturbated, but this time it was so much deeper and more intense; it built slowly growing with every thrust. Unconsciously her free hand moved to her bouncing breasts and she gripped and tweaked her rock hard nipples, then suddenly her orgasm hit her.

It was the most intense orgasm she'd ever had. Her tiny body shuddered; her legs flopped and shook while her pussy gushed around the meat that was still slamming into it. As her body was rocked by the climax she tilted her head back and howled around Matt's cock sucking onto it deep and hard as she tried to breathe.

"Holy shit!" Matt exclaimed as he looked down on her convulsing body still bouncing up and down on Riche's dick as she came. "You are one hot fucking slut!" He fucked her mouth hard for a few thrusts as she struggled to breathe and then withdrew jacking off vigorously until he too exploded over her face, blasts of hot cum covering her cheeks, sticking to her hair and landing in her still open mouth.

As her climax subsided Ningning stopped thrusting and went limp against Rich, who took hold of her waist again and used her to fuck his dick. Her pussy was still tensing and wet, gripping his cock like a glove each time he pulled her back down. It wasn't long before he came, pulling her down hard onto his cock and dumping his hot load right up against her cervix.

Ningning whined as she felt him cum, letting her self slump sideways as he let her go. Panting and exhausted from her intense orgasm she barely resisted as David picked her up by the waist rearranging her so that her legs hung off the arm of the sofa; she could just about rest her knees on the soft white carpet. She lifted her hand up to brush a few bedraggled strands of hair away from her face that had become stuck to the streaks of fresh cum and then tasted her fingers. All she could smell and taste was sex and her throbbing pussy ached to be full again, but she was still nervous and didn't really want to let on how much she was enjoying being used like this.

David slipped his hand down over her asshole and dripping pussy, pressing in and up against her clit. Ningning groaned deeply as he forced his fingers hard into her pussy. As he pressed, cum from the two guys who had already fucked her and her own juices oozed out into his hand. He then slid his fingers up spreading wetness over her virgin asshole and butt cheeks.

Ningning closed her eyes and sucked onto her fingers as she enjoyed this new sensation and David kept rubbing but she was naively totally unaware of his intentions…that is until she felt his finger pressing against her asshole.

"What are you doing?" She suddenly yelped lifting up and turning, but strong hands caught her and pressed her back onto the sofa.

"You'll see." David's fingers slipped and pressed harder over her tight virgin asshole, until he finally pressed one well lubricated finger into her hole. Ningning's eyes went wide and then pressed shut as he slid deeper into her ass.

"Oh fuck, fuck, fuck…please, please don't fuck me there!"

David just smiled and kept slowly but forcefully finger fucking her ass, while he caressed her wet cunt lips with his other hand. It didn't take long before her protests became less frequent interspersed with moans as she once again gave herself to the intense sensations. By now David had easily gotten two fingers up to the second knuckle in her tight hole and he could feel her pussy was hot and wet with fresh arousal.

Ningning sighed as he withdrew from her ass and felt a tremble of anticipation as she felt him stand close behind her, pressing the hot tip of his cock against her asshole. He paused for a moment sliding his strong hands over her pale ass cheeks and up her back eliciting a deep moaning sigh from her, before he thrust hard and deep ramming himself almost to the hilt in one go.

Ningning screamed in shock and pain as David thrust deep inside her, and her hands clenching into fists on the cushions. David pulled almost entirely out and slammed home again, leaning over her and fucking her hard as the other guys watched cheering and laughing.

Every time David thrust it felt like he was splitting her apart but even though it hurt Ningning could feel a warmth building deep inside her. Every time her hips were pounded into the arm of the sofa the cool air passed over her dripping pussy, sending shockwaves through her body which combined with the intense pleasure/pain of David's rock hard cock driving deep and fast into her asshole, and pounding her insides into the sofa.

Her eyes were wide, her mouth a big O shape as she gasped for breath with every impact and then suddenly she started to come again. It rippled through her body causing her pussy to gush, her juices leaking down the insides of her thighs as David continued his assault on her asshole, each impact sending new waves of pleasure through her convulsing body.

"Oh my fucking god, you are so fucking tight! You dirty little whore, you fucking love this!" David kept fucking her driving her hard into the sofa as she gasped and her knuckles turned white.

Finally David couldn't take it anymore and blew his load deep inside her raw asshole, pressing as hard as he could his hips flat against her ass cheeks. Ningning was breathing hard and deep, whining as she savoured the sensation of his hot seed pouring spurt after spurt into her asshole. Her body glistened with sweat and her mind was in a haze of sensation and lust as David's softening cock slid from her ass leaving a trail of sticky cum that dripped down over her engorged pussy lips and mixed with her own cum in streaks down her legs.

"Holy shit man, you fucked the hell out of that chick. How's that ass feel man?"

"Unbelievable…it's nice and lubed up for ya," David winked at Vance and gave him a high five.

Vance once again lifted Ningning up but this time she didn't have the strength to resist, she was just limp letting herself be used and abused by anyone who wanted her, her pussy and asshole felt empty and ached for more cock, despite the fucking she'd already had. Vance lay on the ground, and guided her cum dripping asshole onto his cock, her used hole resisted for a moment then she felt his hot dick driving inside her. He held her upright on top of himself as he slowly thrust up to meet her weight coming down, impaling her deeply on his manhood as she stabilized herself by spreading her legs wide, exposing her pussy which was still oozing it's creampie. He began fucking her slowly making her grunt and moan as he forced inside her used ass. His dick felt slightly longer than David's and the new position meant she felt him even further inside her than before.

Tony then came over and knelt between Vance and Ningning's legs. "Hold her down man; I want some of that pussy." He said to Vance, who reached up and round Ningning's waist pulling her backwards on top of himself. Ningning just moaned and closed her eyes as she felt Tony's cock rubbing over her pussy. Even though she was pretty stretched already, the sensation of two cocks filling both her holes at once was pretty painful and she winced as Tony thrust into her. The two men went slowly for a while until they reached a rhythm, and then they began fucking her with long hard alternating strokes, forcing deep grunts and moans form her with each thrust.

David had taken a seat, and was watching Ningning's tiny body as she heaved between the two guys. Her pale legs splayed out on either side, one high up supported by Tony while she tried to find a footing with the other on the smooth floor. Her pussy and asshole were a bright cherry red and glistened with cum which also stained her thighs and stockings. Rich who was getting turned on again at the sight of this once innocent teen being double teamed on the floor like a whore, headed over and guided his meat into her gasping mouth.

Ningning couldn't focus on half of what was happening to her and took the cock almost on automatic, breathing heavily through her nose she sucked him into her throat tasting his cum and her own juices as he began fucking her mouth like a pussy.

They continued to fuck all her holes in unison for several minutes before Tony finally came hard in her pussy, joining the previous two loads. He pulled out letting the final spurt cover her stomach as he stood up, then he moved round to her side and took her head from Riche's grasp so she could clean his dick off. Ningning sucked him letting cum and saliva dribble down her chin, her eyes closed as she focused on the thrusting cock still deep inside her ass.

Rich took her head back and slid his wet cock back into her hot mouth, using her head to fuck his shaft until he too came, pulling out and unloading over her lips and tongue.

Vance continued his intense deliberate fucking of her asshole for another few minutes and then pulled her down hard cumming deep inside her and holding her until it oozed out around his cock.

Ningning was in a total daze having had what seemed like a string of orgasms one after another for the last half an hour or more and just lay on the carpet panting and breathing heavily as she felt her pussy and ass tingling from the hard fucking she'd just received.

The guys helped her up and got her back in the shower where they cleaned her off making sure to wash the multiple loads of cum out of her used holes. Then they carried her to her room and let her rest.

“What the fuck? My tyranny? What are you yapping about?” She seems confused.

“Rule from the Club Constitution Section 9.1: ‘Any member of the Taekwondo club can challenge the current president for their position in a manner determined by the latter.’ Are you scared, huh?” You swallow, and join her for the staring contest, but only she can see you dilating pupils.

“Hmm… interesting. Ok, I accept your challenge. But for what reason?” Yujin closes the distance between you; the warm air of the practice room is being replaced by her scent – deadly perfume mixed with her sweat from the practice.

“M… me and my fellow club members are done with your iron fist!” You exclaim, “2 hours of practice every afternoon? Two-mile runs as a warmup? You’re making our life so miserable, this is supposed to be a healthy and recreational club!”

“How is conditioning not healthy, hmm?” Yujin gets closer to you, you stumble backwards.

“A… and those so called ‘One-on-One extra practice?’ You randomly pick people to stay after. Every single one who’s been selected stumbles out and can barely walk straight the next day! What the hell did you do to them?” Your accusation is nothing but pure anger, yet the way your voice cracked showed exactly how scared you are in front of a strong woman like An Yujin.

“Aw~, the ‘one-on-one’ huh? I can swear they ALL had a good time… you want to find out what I did?” Yujin smiles at you mischievously, making you more frightened.

“I… I don’t have to know! Because after today, you’ll no longer be the president of the Taekwondo club! I… I shall replace the tyrant myself!” You give a final verdict, despite it is nowhere close to be promising.

“You stated the rule, and I pick the way of the duel. Any objections?” Yujin ignores your weak statements, instead she starts to kick off her sneakers that she just put on after the practice.

“No! Just say it.”

“Okay, I hope you won’t regret your decision. Now get on the mats.”

“What?”

“I said, ‘lie on the floor’. Is it not clear?” Yujin smirks, her normally cute dimple is now nothing but pure mischief.

“I…isn’t this supposed to be a Taekwondo contest? S… since this is a Taekwondo club?” You don’t dare to disobey the powerful president but you’re still confused as hell.

“I am going to challenge your endurance and strength, to see if you are capable of the position of the president. Which, I don’t think you do.” Yujin taunts, her grin grows even wider. “By the way, this is exactly what the one-on-one practice is about, but unfortunately? So far no one can finish the whole set without saying the safe word and chicken out.”

“What the fuck? T… this is not BDSM type of stuff, why is there a safe word?”

Apparently, Yujin is not as patient as you thought. She doesn’t like her club members when they ask too many questions. That’s why she decides to answer you physically.

“Ouch!” Within a blink of an eye, Yujin executes a sweep and tackles you onto the foam mats.

“Oh, by the way? The rule is simple, endure my assault and don’t tap out. Thirty minutes and you are the new President. Sounds easy, huh? I hope you have better stamina than your peers, candidate?” Yujin climbs up and mounts on top of your chest. Is this even a Taekwondo position anymore? You’re confused, but maybe she’s just gonna attack you? And you defend?

Well, that’s almost it.

Until Yujin starts to undo your uniform.

“Hey! What are you doing! What the fuck?” You scream as Yujin’s hands are already all over your bare chest.

“Uh… you seem to have very weak emotion control? That’s not good for the future president of the Taekwondo club? How can you lead, if you cannot even endure the slightest exposure?” She teases, while completely removing your uniform and the only piece of fabric covering your skinny body is that boxer of yours.

And for some random reason, it is damped and looks utterly unprofessional.

“Wow, not even compression shorts? No cups as well? You said you want to challenge me, but where your gears?” Yujin coos, while giving your crotch a teasing smack.

“Ahhh!!!” You gasp from the pain, but a weird sense of pleasure starts to overtake the discomfort.

“Hey! Are you ok? Why are you hard?” Yujin repositions herself on the side of your body, her strong, meaty legs clamping either side of your hips.

“Mmph…” A pathetic moan involuntarily comes out of your throat.

“Oh no! A future president of the club is not capable of resisting basic teasing! How can you stay calm and authoritative and manage your club members?” She approaches your right ear, whispering right into the very core in your brain. Meanwhile, her elegant fingers pinch your exposed nipple.

You itch even more; the final bit of your control is almost gone.

“Alright, let me finally see what your equipment is capable of doing.” Yujin yanks your boxer all the way down to your ankles, your fully hard length springs free in the chill air of the dojang.

She bites down on your earlobe, spilling more filthy words like a devil. “Smart boy, can you make a guess now? Why did your fellow club members couldn’t walk straight the day after?”

“Fuck!” You are falling deeper to the sensation.

“That’s the right answer, boy.” Yujin grins whiling grabbing the base of your throbbing cock.

“But since you’re not being a good boy and instead decided to challenge me?” She starts stroking, “I might not give you the same level of treatment as your clubmates.”

“Oh... shit... Yujin” Her name slips through your lips that you’ve been biting down.

“Stay still, a good leader should be able to resist external pressure and keep their composure. Where is yours?” She starts to accelerate her movement, and yeah, your twitching length is at its maximum hardness already.

“Oh fuck... Yujin, you’re making me feel so good.” You never expected a *challenge* would lead you to this, but hell, you’re more than willing to do so.

“Bet you wanna come already, look at how your cock is leaking like a faucet!” She sits up on the mat, smiling at you amusedly.

Then, while you’re closing your eyes to enjoy the sensation, she suddenly takes her hands off your cock.

You protest by thrusting your crotch upwards to seek for more friction, but Yujin instead puts her feet on your hips. You take a peek at the obscene view down below - Yujin’s wiggly toes painted in a glossy black - scratch your inner thigh softly but never actually touching your cock.

“What’s essential in Taekwondo? Footwork! Let’s see if you’re capable of defending my footwork, hehehe~” Yujin giggles, she steps her beautifully arched foot onto your shaft. You immediately tremble from the point of contact where her soft skin meets your hot length.

Yujin spreads her foot wide, letting your sensitive head slide into the gap between her big toe and the rest of her gorgeous little foot. Your cock had already been leaking crazily, the precum provides an extra layer of lubrication. She keeps sliding her foot up and down along your itching shaft, a new drop of precum oozes out of your slit each time her toe brushes through your frenulum.

“Holy shit… Yujin, your foot is doing me so well.” You manage a gasp to compliment her excellent footwork but obviously she does not need to hear it. That’s probably the reason why she smacks her other pretty foot onto your face. Her heel lies between your lips and her toes press your nose, trapping your face under her sole.

You uncontrollably sniff Yujin; her alluring scent immediately rushes to the very core of your nostril. The light, vanilla scent from her body lotion mixes with a faint hint of her sweat from the practice earlier. You never knew a Taekwondo girl would have such soft, sweet feet. You kiss her sole following your instinct as you put both hands onto her foot, caressing her.

“Mmph… Yujin, your scent makes me so hard.” You confess while Yujin doesn’t even bother looking at your face, instead she puts her focus on her footwork like a true master.

“Nah, that’s not the right way to say it, challenger.” She finally looks into your eyes, “In order to be a qualified president, you cannot be too honest and spill out what you really think.”

“But your smell like heaven… mmph.” You ignore her indirect warning, instead you plant more wet kisses with your mouth onto her pretty foot.

“Haiya… you’re helpless.” Yujin sighs, “maybe it’s better for you to stop using words, use your actions instead. Show me what you’ve got.” She then shoves her foot through your lips; your tongue gets greeted by her taste and silky sole.

“Mmm…” You spontaneously start sucking her toes, you savor each one like eating a lollipop. You greedily acquire her taste through your tongue, the wet, obscene sound of licking and sucking echoes between the walls. Your cock twitched hard against her sole even as shame burned your ears.

“That’s it, keep enjoying my footwork like a good boy you are. Maybe you’re better off being a club member instead of a leader… since you enjoy getting obedient this much? Hmm?” Yujin’s smile is dangerous but you are her willing prey.

You keep moaning helplessly as Yujin fucks your itching shaft and your naughty mouth at the same time. You’re getting close. Too close. Maybe Yujin is right in the end of the day, you’re just a sub little boy who enjoys being beneath a powerful woman like herself.

“Fuck… I’m gonna come on your foot, shit!” Your breath hitches as Yujin finally starts her merciless assault onto your leaking cock. She picks up her phone from the mat, taking a selfie of this utterly unholy scenery – Yujin sits on the foam mat with her legs wide open. Her left foot is still somewhere in your mouth, whilst her right foot presses your hardened cock onto your stomach and rubs your swollen tip with her wiggling toes. Meanwhile, she throws a cheeky “V” sign right between your messy face and the camera with Yujin biting her lips with pure ecstasy.

“Look at the camera. Do you wanna say ‘cheese’ for mommy?” The word hits you like a thunderbolt. It turns on something deep in your soul. “Oh fuck…” The humiliation turns your face into a beet root, but oddly you feel a strong-than-ever sense of pleasure. Your moans are louder and louder as your hips buck upwards to chase her foot each time she brushes through your sensitive top.

“You came to challenge me, but now you’re moaning like a little bitch boy? Hmm? Is that what you’re like?” Yujin giggles.

“Hmmnn… I am mommy Yujin’s bitch boy, please don’t stop!” You mumble with her foot still stirring in your mouth, your brain gives up any final effort to stay sane as the pleasure from the friction starts to overwhelm each sense.

“Oh? Now you don’t call me a tyrant? Or an iron fist? You call me mommy… Hmm. Don’t you worry, I’m not stopping until you cry and cum on my foot like a slut.” She picks up her pace, alternating between squeezing your tip and stroking your entire shaft with her sole. Her entire right foot is glistening with your precum leaking all over the place, shining obscenely under the afternoon sunlight through the certain.

The sensory is overloading, your hands are all over her pretty foot that keeps thrusting in and out of your math and your legs start to tremble violently – it’s time to release!

“I think you’re close, hmm?” Yujin teases while slowing down her movement, you groan painfully from the loss of friction.

“Please… please let me cum.” You beg pathetically.

“Aw~ poor boy, surrendering to my swift footwork already? Your endurance is a big issue, isn’t it? I think you need to hold it longer.”

“N…NO! I need to cum so bad, please Yujin.” Your eyes are teary, every cell of your body screaming for more of her foot on you. You’re a goner.

“You annoyed me, do you know that?” Yujin hums, but amusedly instead of angrily. “You were so arrogant to even think about challenging me.” She says, while starting to untie her own dobok.

“But surprisingly you haven’t come yet, most of your peers either ran away already…” She stops as she swings the dobok off her body, “or they already exploded their seeds all over the place.”

“Damn! That’s what you did to them in the one-on-one practice? No wonder they couldn’t walk straight the next day…. That’s coercion!” You shout.

“Exactly, but they always had the option to tap out by saying the safe word, you know?” She stands up onto the mat; Yujin is now only in her sports bra and a plain spandex short.

“W…what’s the safe word?” You seem confused because she never told you what it is.

“Oh! You wanna know? It is ‘mommy’! You already said it, so assume you don’t wanna continue? Aw~ how pitiful… okay imma leave then.” Yujin pouts, while pretending to leave (of course you don’t know if she means it or not).

“Hey! What the fuck! Please don’t…” You lie on the mat, trying to grab Yujin’s ankle – but obviously you also need more training of your agility as you miss by nearly a foot. Well, she doesn't even flinch, instead Yujin looks down at your trembling hand knowing you’re at the exact place she wants you to be.

“Oh, really? I thought you can be satisfied jerking off thinking about me, maybe you want more?” Yujin turns around, winks at you teasingly.

“Y…yes, I want more of you Yujin… please?” You mutter weakly.

“Aw~ use your words then, pretty boy… and just ‘Yujin’? Where’s the honorific?” She laughs.

“I meant ‘Mommy Yujin’, please! I want to feel your outstanding footwork on me again!” You exclaim.

“Hmm, maybe? The way you beg me is actually kinda cute. Fuck, it’s making me wet even...” Yujin murmurs as she turns back towards you.

“Yes! Please gimme all... your skin is smooth like butter, so soft on me. I want it so badly.” Filthy words escape out of your filthy mouth, and Yujin find another way to shut you up.

“You know... sometimes you talk too much. Besides that, you’re kinda a cute little boy toy for me. So say less.” Yujin stands tall, her 173 centimeters of height is simply dominance (or equivalently, 5’8” for my fellow American readers).

She then positions herself on top of you, before sinking herself down onto your face in one go. Yujin supports herself with her hands and her feet are finally back on your itching, desperate cock again.

The moment when she sits on your face is electric. Yujin’s weight and alluring scent assault your face all at once. The firm, warm muscle of her body settles directly over your face, the slick, sweat-dampened spandex of her shorts molding to your nose and lips. You gasp, but all you inhale is her deadly scent, especially the intoxicating pheromone from a dominating Yujin.

You manage to open your eyes and even that takes a lot of effort. What you see above you is definitely worth it though. Yujin’s glory body is all full display.

You can clearly see how the spandex shorts hug her thick ass and her athletic thighs. The dark fabric is slightly damp from the sweat but damn, the way her muscle stretches beneath the shorts? The way her thong is still barely visible through the shorts? You swear you’ll empty yourself soon if you don’t look somewhere else.

You moan as you gradually lose yourself in lust. You close your eyes again to stop the sensory overload. But there is this good old say: muting one sense only emphasizes the other ones. And that’s exactly the case.

The dojang is very quiet, but you can clearly hear the sound where Yujin’s shorts are brushing your nose. You can hear each time she lands her gorgeous butt onto your nose, as well as the slick sound where she massages your cock with her sole.

Your hands hover on Yujin’s perfect ass, only for her to slap them off. “Did I say you can touch?” She teases.

“P... please, your ass looks so fucking juicy...” You mumble.

“Hmm, really? You think so too? Many of your fellow members said it before. But you haven’t really seen it yet, bitch boy?” Yujin sits back onto your face, smothering you with her weight. “If you want it, you gotta earn it... you know? Perseverance is a nice trait for good leadership.”

“Mmph... But I can’t take them off without my hands!” You squeeze out a few words through her suppression.

“Aw~ you’re really struggling now huh? Use your mouth, little boy. Use your filthy mouth which spits out stupid words.” Yujin taunts while grabbing both of your wrists and pinning your hands to the mat effortlessly.

“P... please! I swear I won’t disobey you anymore! I won’t protest against your leadership again!” You beg in desperation as you’re so close - just need more of Yujin.

“I meant, use your mouth. Physically. Take my shorts off with your silly mouth.” Yujin pouts devilishly.

You’re in awe, but you oblige regardless. She lifts herself slightly, just enough for you to have room for some air. Her curve is perfect shaped, wiggling and hovering on your face. You lift your head just high enough to level up at the waistband.

You bite down onto the elastic band of the spandex shorts and pull the plain black shorts down. She stretches her leg muscles a little bit to help you out while smiling at you teasingly.

Yujin’s heavenly ass is finally at full display. You gulp starring at the curve, your hip pushes upwards to chase for more contact. Yet, there’s still a final layer of barrier before you gain full access to her pussy. A crimson laced thong.

“Shit, Yujin. Why are you wearing this to practice?” Your hands are already groping her ass, but this time she lets you.

“Come on naughty boy. Don’t act like you don’t like it.” She responses you with a dimpled smile.

“Hmm fuck, I like it so bad... You’re so hot.” You confess as you lose yourself in her cute and seemingly innocent face.

“Good. I bet you’ll do anything to taste my pussy, is that right?” She flexes her ass that has been hovering on your face for too long.

“Oh God, please just let me eat you out already!” You beg.

“Another fail. A president cannot be this impatient, your self-discipline is basically nonexistent.”

“Fuck. How do I have any self-control when all I see is your butt cheeks wiggling in front of my eyes?” You groan in protest. “Plus... your ass looks so pretty and juicy...” You add on weakly.

“That’s valid to be fair.” Yujin seems pleased from your compliment, “Don’t fuck up.” She finally slides her thong off and just throws it on your stomach. 

Your skin can immediately feel how moist the fabric had become.

Yujin then sinks her glistening, shaved pussy onto your waiting face. You open your mouth wide to acquire her alluring taste. Her vanilla-scented body lotion, the salt from the practice and her arousal all mix together as they ruthlessly attack your nerves.

“Hmm, Mommy...” you mumble as you keep lapping her folds hungrily “You taste so good.”

“Of course I do.” She answers you proudly. “And now you remember the honorifics, good boy… Now serve me well, let me feel good and maybe I’ll consider letting you cum.” Yujin orders.

“Yes mommy, yes! I want it so bad.” You immediately dive back to licking her wet, warm folds. You quickly locate her clit and give it a long lap with your tongue.

“Mmph...” Yujin moans, she sounds like heaven. Her leg muscles visibly tightens as you keep focusing on her most sensitive part.

Your cock is already a leaking mess down below as Yujin occasionally teases you with her feet. To urge to cum starts to become unbearable. You then accelerate your oral movement. Your lips open apart, taking in Yujin entirely.

You stick your tongue through her wet lips with ease; your finger now rubs her clit in tight little circles from below.

“Mmph... oh! Fuck!” Maybe a strong woman like Yujin herself has weakness. She soon succumbs from the pleasure and loses her balance.

“*SPLAT*” Yujin falls down onto your face.

“%#*+^”&$}]%!” You inhale in panic as your vision suddenly blacks out.

“Fuck, are you ok?” She finally picks herself up from your face after sneakily grinding her pussy one more time on your mouth.

“Oh shit, you almost smothered me.” You face is already full of Yujin’s juice.

Yujin purrs, “Even so you’ll be gone happily.” She switches up the position, lying sideways besides you and supports herself with her elbow instead.

You don’t wait, quickly bury your face back in between her thighs. Yujin now starts stroking your ignored cock with her foot again.

You moan like crazy as her soft, perfectly arched foot keeps gliding up and down your cock. Your hum vibrates through her pussy, Yujin hums happily.

“Mmph Yujin, I’m so fucking close, I wanna cum.” You mumble between her folds.

“Fuck, I’m close too... maybe I just found a better use of your silly mouth~” Yujin’s voice is slightly cracking as you project your desperate  urge to cum onto fucking her pussy with your mouth.

You grab her foot and holds it in place, before thrusting along her buttery sole. Your breath starts to become uneven and hell, your heart hammers your chest frantically.

It’s similar for Yujin.

“Hmnnn, mmph...” Yujin’s moaning is like sweet poison, her fingers slide in to rub her clit as you leave wet licks everywhere on her pussy.

“Oh fuck, Yujin, I’m coming!” The pleasure is overwhelming. But Yujin comes first.

“Fuck!” A high-pitched cry comes out of her throat as she reaches her orgasm in your sucking mouth. Yujin’s legs squeeze your head tightly; her walls flutter violently between your lips. Her juices squirts all over your face, dropping down to the mats as she grabs your hair to keep your mouth on her pussy through her climax.

You immediately cum after her. Spurts and spurts of your own nectar burst through your slit. The first few shots go through Yujin’s toes and land on your stomach. And the rest of your cum flows between her toes, turning that glossy black into white.

You’re left between Yujin’s legs, chest heaving from the orgasm. She scoops up the mess on your stomach with her toes while smiling at you mischievously.

“Fuck... Yujin, that was intense.” You look at the woman above you who had just milked you using only her foot — the very same woman you had tried to dethrone just moments ago.

“Hold on tight, pretty boy. We’re far from done with you and your naughty ass.” Yujin smirks as she stands up and presses her cum-covered foot onto your face.

“Clean it up for Mommy,” she orders.

Your face burns with humiliation, but your mouth opens anyway. Yujin pushes her high-arched foot between your lips.

You carefully take her toes into your mouth and lick them clean one by one, tasting the bitter evidence of how quickly your ambition had crumbled before her.

“Hmm... Good boy, cleaning your own mess off Mommy’s foot. Where’s the brave challenger who wanted to kick me off the president’s position, huh?” Yujin teases, giving you an innocent puppy face.

Your heart races faster as you see her effortless, sweet smile — the same smile she wore after cumming on your face. “M... maybe I do enjoy being under you sometimes, Yujin...” you mumble once you’ve finished licking your cum off her foot.

“You’re being very honest, and I love honest boys.” Yujin giggles. “Now go get my bag over there on the bench. I’m not done with you yet.”

“Wait, what? There’s still more?” Your half-soft cock is apparently more excited than you are, as it quickly stands up again.

“You’re hard again? For real?” She coos. “I’m just asking you to bring my training equipment over and you’re already this horny.”

“Ah, for real? Then it’s actual Taekwondo training? Bruh!” You protest in disappointment.

“Go. Don’t make me repeat myself.” Yujin gives your ass a light side kick, sending you stumbling forward as the embarrassing slap echoes through the empty dojang.

Her navy-blue sports bag sits on the wooden bench beside the dojang. You try to pick it up with one hand, expecting it to be light, but the surprising weight makes you grab it with both hands.

“What’s in here? Does she really carry a thirty-pound bag every day? It feels like there are water bottles in it too,” you mutter while slowly walking back to Yujin.

“That took you quite a while,” Yujin says, her tone flat.

“You can’t blame me! Your bag is heavy as fuck... what do you even have in there?” you complain.

“Don’t ask questions. Now kneel for Mommy,” Yujin smirks.

“F... fine. Mommy.” You obey, dropping to your knees.

“Open it.”

You place the bag in front of you and unzip it.

“What the fuck!” You fall backwards in shock.

“Hehehe~” Yujin giggles proudly.

“Otherwise… what else did you think I used to train my weak club members?”

You stare at the items inside Yujin’s bag, eyes growing wider at the scene before you. You tilt the unzipped bag over, the items inside fall onto the dojang floor one by one.

Yujin sits down onto the foam mat, legs crossed. She rests her chin on her hands like a professor that’s ready to give a lecture.

“Go on, baby boy~ Don’t be shy! Ask mommy nicely what each one is for?” Yujin says sweetly.

“W…what is this for?” You pick up this string of red grape-sized anal beads. “T…this is definitely NOT a skewer of Tanghulu.” You swallow nervously.

“Oh? This? This is for your pelvic floor strength training! What’s wrong with that? You need a strong core for better Taekwondo!” Yujin says with a straight face.

“What the fuck?” You scream to yourself, but you don’t dare to say it out loud.

“Then what is this? This has absolutely NOTHING to do with Taekwondo!” You hold up a leather harness and a… black strap-on with your shaking hands.

“Who says they don’t? They are both very essential equipment I use to train endurance and obedience to your seniors! Very crucial leadership skills, aren’t they?” Yujin says smugly.

“O…ok.” You look up and Yujin looks at you harmlessly. “Then I assume this is for… protection?” You grab a liter-sized plastic bottle of water-based lube from the ground; the bubbles are still visible from the fall earlier as it makes a thick, glug-glug sound that echoes a bit too loudly.

“Exactly! You get the point.” She doesn’t even fucking blink. “I don’t want my club members getting hurt during the intense training.” Yujin gives a look at the harness and strap-on, “Lubrication is the key, you know.”

Your heart races faster, “And how about the blindfold?”

“Muscle memory, very important to hit your target without looking.”

“And the fucking leg-spreader?”

“Oh, come on! How can you execute overhead kicks if you can’t even spread you legs wide? It is Taekwondo in the end of the day!” Yujin nods like she’s approving her own point.

“Fine…” You sigh. “The final one, definitely for mommy yourself to train your focus? When facing distractions from the opponent?” You lift the almost-empty bag upside-down, a pink, vibrator falls onto your waiting palm. Why is it a bit sticky?

“Oh shit. That’s my personal toy. I forgot to take it out this morning. Oopsie~” Yujin scratches her cheek with an embarrassed smile.

“Damn!” Yujin snatches the toy with the precision of a master, her fingers grazing your crotch with enough deliberate pressure to make you gasp out loud.

“Hmm... which one should I try on you today?” Yujin’s finger taps on her cheek as she starts to decide what type of training you need.

“From what I’ve been observing, you tend to surrender quite easily, huh? I think this will be perfect for you.” Yujin murmurs while picking up that red string of anal beads.

“A... are you sure about that?” You panic.

“Aw~ have you never tried it before?” She raises her eyebrow with a devilish grin.

“No? Why would I ever put stuff in my ass?”

“You’ll know exactly why today. Now stand up and back against the wall.” Yujin orders.

“Yes...” you obey.

Yujin sways her hips as she walks towards you slowly. With every step her bare feet take on the mat, your heart pounds harder against your ribs.

Her eyes are dangerous even when she’s smiling, a hint of hunger is hidden beneath that puppy face. “I wanna see how long you can last before you start begging me.”

“I... I don’t know?” You try to avoid eye contact because you know you’ll lose control at the exact moment her gaze meets yours.

“Maybe… two minutes? Hmm?” Yujin half closes her eyes as whispers; her warm breath brushing your face. You’re already itching with need.

She wraps her fingers around your newly hardened length and gives it one long, lazy stroke.

“Mmph…”

“Good boy,” she purrs, resting one arm on your shoulder while holding up the string of red anal beads with her other hand. “Get these nice and wet for me.”

You open your mouth obediently. Yujin slowly pushes the first bead past your lips. “Come on, use your tongue. They need to be slick before I put them inside you.”

You feel your ears burning as your tongue touches the cool texture of the silicone. Yujin’s free hand roams over your bare ass, squeezing lightly.

“Hmm… It feels wrong,” you murmur.

“Shhh…” She leans in, biting your earlobe gently. “It only feels wrong because you’re still pretending you don’t want it.”

She slides a second bead into your mouth as her voice drops into a sweet whisper. “But deep down, you’re dying to be a good boy for mommy… aren’t you?”

“Oh fuck… yes… I’m mommy’s good boy…” You close your eyes, letting this strange pleasure take you.

“Thwack”

The sound of Yujin flicking open the bottle of lube drags you back to the dojang.

She positions herself right in front of you, pinning your back against the cold, concrete wall. A few strands of her hair stick onto her forehead from the sweat, but her gaze is still with pure mischief.

Yujin pulls the beads out of your mouth; a thin string of your saliva connects the tip to your lips. She wipes the beads on your chest, ignore your mumbling protest.

“I’m very kind to my club member, especially the weak ones who need extra proper trainings…” Yujin squeezes a pea-sized amount of lube from the bottle as it lands perfectly onto the red beads. She reaches behind you, knocking your backdoor with the tip.

Your body tenses at the cold, slippery sensation of the lube.

“Chill, baby boy. It’s only gonna hurt if your pelvic floor muscles don’t relax. Or if it actually hurts anytime, tell mommy to stop and I won’t force you. Consent is sexy, you know. It’s your call.” Yujin mutters, her voice like a sweet poison.

“Yes mommy, please keep going.” You take a deep breath and try to relax your muscles. Yujin pushes the first bead through the tight ring; a strange and taboo feeling immediately emerges.

Your eyes shut close as you experience a weird fullness - instead of pain - from the bottom of your body. “Good boy, taking it in nicely for mommy~.” Yujin smiles at you proudly.

She quickly pushes in one more bead with a slightly bigger size before lifting your chin up and commands you to open your eyes.

“See that mirror over there?” Yujin smirks.

“Y…yes?” You stare at the mirror that’s on the other side of dojang and realize how the “challenger” is now being pinned to the wall pathetically and how Yujin towers over you with her dominance figure.

“Good. Because I want you to see very clearly what I’m about to do to your poor little cock.” Yujin nods as she stretches her waist. Her juices are still glistening on her inner thighs from when she came on your face mercilessly earlier.

Then, she spreads her juicy thighs and slides your fully hard cock right between them.

“Mmph…” You moan instantly as her warm, wet muscles tightly wrap around your shaft.

“Don’t just moan like a little bitch boy, tell me what do you see in that mirror?” Yujin orders.

“Your ass.”

“OUCH!” Certainly, Yujin is not satisfied with your answer so she squeezes your cock hard with her thighs and pushes one more bead into you.

“You’re helpless, my ass? At least be more specific, huh? I know you already don’t wanna be the president anymore, but public speaking is still a very important skill nevertheless. Trust.” Yujin winks at you with that innocent puppy eyes.

“Your ass… it looks like it’s the only thing in the mirror. Juicy, so fucking juicy. It’s squeezing me so nice and tight.” You confess as you keep staring at how Yujin’s curve flexes in the mirror surrounded by the faint sunlight through the curtain. Her slick thighs glisten in the reflection as it ruthlessly traps your poor cock in between.

“Hmm… not bad. See? I told ya you had the talent, just need more training. Now, keep that energy and tell mommy… Why is that boy in the mirror blushing redder than the beads in his ass?” Yujin drops the bomber question casually.

“W…what?” The embarrassment makes you dazed.

“Is it because it’s hot here?” She suggests, but you take the bait regardless.

“It’s because you’re too hot…mommy.” You surrender to Yujin’s force and her body.

“Ah, so in the end of the day, you didn’t want my position, you wanted my attention.” Yujin says with a playful tone.

“Maybe. I can’t think anymore.” Your words dissolve as Yujin begins properly fucking you with her thighs.

You try to distract yourself from the inevitable urge to cum between Yujin’s legs, but every piece of rational thoughts is being shattered by the loop her muscles tightening then relaxing. The wet, slick sound of your cock sliding in and out of Yujin’s legs are drowning your own frantic heartbeat.

And damn, Yujin kisses you.

She leans in to take in your lips aggressively with hers. Her tongue immediately swirls around yours, claiming every bit of your space. You’re overwhelmed by the pleasure that’s everywhere on your body – the friction down below, the itch on your lips and the fullness from the inside. You cannot resist anymore and you collapse onto the wall.

Well maybe you forgot you’ve got that thing in you. I mean the beads. An additional one passes through your entrance and the tip finds that mushy spot in your rectum. You gasp out loud as you suddenly want to pee really badly.

“Shit… I’m gonna cum!” You jolt.

“Chill, that’s prostate simulation.” Yujin calmly explains.

“What? How do you know? You don’t even have one!” You object.

“Need me to remind you how many times I’ve done this?” She laughs proudly. “Plus, if you study your biology with ten percent of the effort than memorizing that Club Constitution bullshit? You’ll know exactly what it is doing.”

“Fuck…” Yujin is right, she’s obvious very experienced in terms of the pelvic floor muscles training so you decide to give in. You start to get used to this odd yet pleasant fullness down below.

But damn, the sensations are building rapidly. With Yujin milking your shaft with her thighs? Beads stimulating your prostate? And her occasional tease on your bare nipples? You know you aren’t going to last long. But it’d be a real pity if you just let go of this moment that easily.

You try to look somewhere else in the dojang to distract your attention, but unfortunately the mirror just traps your vision like a magnet. You clearly see how Yujin’s muscles flex each time she takes your cock in between her thighs, her alluring curve oscillates along with the movement pivoting at your shaft. You witness how your sensitive tip is sliding in and out between her leg and how your itching length is throbbing under her force. It’s just too much.

Yujin knows exactly what you’re trying. “Baby boy, mommy is only using my legs and you’re shaking like this. Try to think about if it’s my pussy? Hmm?” She gives you an evil suggestion. Don’t go that way, it’s dangerous to think about it right now.

“Imagine how wet and tight my pussy is going to wrap around your little cock, hmm? I bet you’re already thinking about me pinning you onto the mat and ride you senseless, aren’t you?” Yujin keeps teasing you.

“Oh shit. Yujin… please don’t! Imma come very soon if you keep saying this. Ugh.” Your eyes are already rolling to the back of your head.

“Oh, really?” She pretends to be surprised although she definitely isn’t. “You’re doing good for mommy, maybe your endurance is not any worse than you peers. Hmm?”

You groan as a weak response.

“I bet your filthy little head is already losing its mind just thinking about how tight I am, isn’t it? Tell me if you want it ~” She continues.

“Y...yes, Yujin. Please let me...”

“Too bad. Maybe you really want to, but I’m about to drain your poor balls with my legs. I doubt it’ll have anything left for my pussy.” Yujin giggles as she pushes you even tighter to the wall.

“Hmmph...” It is dangerously close; your cock is throbbing madly between Yujin’s thighs. Your palms grab onto Yujin’s juicy ass and you start to thrust forward to chase for more stimulation.

She can tell you’re losing it, but her posture is perfectly straight. Yujin continues her rhythmic squeezing and flexing her thighs like a true master punishing her naughty student.

“Mommy... mommy I’m gonna cum!” You bury your face into her neck, scream for release.

But she stops abruptly and yanks your hands off her ass, smiling at you teasingly.

“Fuck. Oh.... fuck.” Your legs shake violently and your back collapse onto the wall behind you from the sudden edge. Before you can react and complain, Yujin swiftly picks up the pink vibrator on the floor - the one which she used and forgot to take it out of the bag.

“I think I decided that you can last a bit longer, hehe.” Yujin gives you a puppy smile while she effortlessly grabs your wrists and pin them above you head. “No jerking yourself off, bitch boy~ only mommy can make you cum.”

“Shit...” You mumble as your hips buck forward into nothing.

“Relax, you’re leaking like a fountain again.” Yujin spreads your slick precum on the tip with her fingers, and the stimulation turns you into a sobbing mess.

She pushes the finger into your mouth, forcing you to taste your own lust as she turns on the vibrator to pleasure herself.

You feel like a century had passed until Yujin finally turns around and slides your cock back in between her thighs. Her bouncy ass presses firmly into your abdomen as she puts the vibrator right against her clit.

The vibration conducts through her body onto your tip, causing more precum oozing out of your clit onto her thighs.

For a moment, the dojang is becoming the mixture of filthy noises.

The higher pitched moaning from Yujin as she draws little circles on her clit.

The more breathy and broken groans from your desperate mouth begging for a release.

The lower, steady buzz of the pink vibrator in Yujin’s hand, stimulating both her body and yours at the same time.

And that slick, wet gliding of your cock — lubricated by your precum and Yujin’s juices — sliding between her heavenly thighs.

You open your eyes and the scene in the mirror is the final thing you see before you lose it all.

Your shaft pushing in and out of Yujin’s legs, as she bites her own lips to try to contain the pleasure. The mixture of her own juice and yours are dripping down her inner thighs, making them glistening in the afternoon dojang. You see how Yujin’s facial expression starts to get a bit overwhelmed by the vibrator. You can’t resist for even a second longer.

“Look at your slutty face, huh? Enjoy getting put in your place by me. Hmm?” Yujin knows. She pulls the string onto the anal beads and pulls them out all at one, making sure you’re fully surrendered to the pleasure for your mommy.

“Fuck, mommy... I’m coming!” Along with a breathy cry, your lower body shakes violently and you release for a second time onto Yujin’s gorgeous frame.

Her thighs clamp onto your cock tightly as you burst strings after strings of your juice between her legs, painting her pale skin even whiter.

“G... Good boy, just came for mommy again. Mmph... your cock is doing its job for me.” Yujin murmurs as she turns up the vibrator.

She slides two fingers into her pussy after finally letting go of your wrists, her moans are starting to get more audible. Your liberated wrists automatically wrap around Yujin’s chest as you dare yourself to grab her tits and brushes her nipples with your still shaky fingers.

Her cheeks become pinker as her nipples are standing up from your touching. She doesn’t stop you as she’s getting close too. You lean in kiss her neck and her soft skin under her ears.

“Mmph... Good boy, you know to make mommy feel good too?” You answer by planting more open-mouthed kiss into her earlobe and caressing her swollen nipples. Yujin still traps your soften shaft between her legs and you can feel they’re getting shaky - even for a master like Yujin herself. Maybe you found her weakness! Next time when you fight her, you should pinch her nipples and stuff a vibrator into her folds.

Well, you doubt if you ever want to fight her though... And Yujin soon succumbs to the pleasure; her moans are cracking as she toggles the pink egg into the max.

“Mmph... fuck! I’m coming!” Yujin finally releases herself again under the strong stimulation, her folds are drowning by her flooding juice dripping all the way down her leg onto the mat.

“Shit... that felt so good.” Yujin sits onto the mat as you also give in to your shaky legs. You’re still yet to recover from the two orgasms in a row but Yujin’s posture is already straight. It is at this moment, you realize you fucked up.

“Shit, we are screwed! Look at the mat!” You pant, pointing at the stains on the foam - Yujin and you just recklessly released yourselves onto the training mat without a second thought.

“Shit!” Yujin grabs a pack of napkin amongst the equipments on the floor and throws it to you. “We better clean ourselves first, we’re fucking messy... then you’re gonna organize the stuff. Go go go!” She commands.

“Fine.” You start to wipe the nectar off your legs and stand up. But your weak legs fail you. Told you not to skip leg day.

“Hahaha why are your leg shaking like this? How can you do Taekwondo if you can’t even stand” Yujin taunts, but with a big dimpled smile on her face.

“I...I don’t need to be good at Taekwondo! I only need to be a good boy for mommy!” You find the right answer like a true fucking professional.

“Aw~ how cute! I’m very satisfied at your performance.” Yujin winks at you amusingly.

You finally stand up and walk towards the shower in the locker room.

“Clean yourself, baby boy. I’ll take care of the mat and join you later.” Yujin giggles behind you, but wait, what does she mean by joining you?

Is it gonna be another round? You smirk, lips curving upwards happily.

“And no, you are not fucking me in the shower.” Yujin suddenly shouts like she knows exactly what are the filthy scenes in your mind right now.

“Wait what? I don’t know what you’re talking about?” You speed up walking before she can see how red your face is.

“Well... you aren’t fucking me, but that doesn’t mean the other way around is not gonna happen.... damn look at that ass... hehehe” Yujin licks her lips behind you as she reaches out for something on the ground.

You let the warm water embrace you, washing off the evidence that you just came twice onto your President in the dojang. And Yujin gives you the impression that it’s not the first time she had done this - she’s really a master at it. You splash water onto your face to clean, but then you hear the door of the locker room being opened.

A few seconds later, Yujin brushes open the edge of the curtain of your stall and peeks into the steamy shower. “D... damn, at least notify me before coming in! That scared me off.” You protest, but only to see Yujin winking at you mischievously with her big eyes.

“I’ve got some surprise for you, you wanna see?” She teases, but of course she isn’t asking for your opinion. Yujin quickly yanks open the curtain and your heart immediately starts to pound your ribs like how Yujin is going to pound you.

You are thinking that because you see she is standing there naked, well this isn’t the important part. She is standing there naked with her cock hard and ready to go.

Yujin’s tall frame is now at the full display; her small but perky tits are like cherries on top of her athletic body. The muscles of her legs tell you who’s the real expert at dealing with situations like this. There is nothing but a mysterious smile on her face that you cannot guess the meaning behind. You gulp staring at the leather harness and the black silicon strap-on, a strange sense of anticipation starts to override the fear of the unknown that you even forget to cover your hardening manhood with your hands.

“Fuck… Maybe I am going to let her fuck me. Maybe…” Your mind screams.

Yujin’s hips sway, she catwalks slowly and suggestively while stroking the strap-on with her hand. “Baby boy~” She finally stops before you and leans down – her hair falls to both sides of her ear and your back hits the wall as you try to retreat.

“Aw~ why are you running away from mommy?” Yujin smirks.

“I… I thought we’re calling it a day? You said we’re not fucking in the shower… I… I’m already drained!” You stutter; desire mixed with exhaustion from the earlier orgasms – yet you don’t know if Yujin is doing what you think she’ll be doing to you.

“Poor boy, it must be that you came too hard on mommy that you misheard it. I said you’re not gonna fuck me in the shower, but I never said anything about the other way around, hmm?” Yujin is full on laughing right now but her grip onto your shoulders is reminding you there is no escape. “Now be honest. You don’t really want to stop, do you?”

Hell, why would you want to escape in the first place?

You don’t even hesitate. The words burst out before you process them. “…No, Mommy.”

You gather your courage and lean in to kiss her, she’s surprised but quickly adjusts her posture. Yujin pins your back onto the metal handle on the wall that prevents people from slipping in the shower. The cold metal sends shiver down your spine, or is it because Yujin’s strap-on is pressing onto your abdomen?

A brief moment of your tongues swirling in each other’s mouth, Yujin thinks you’re ready. She picks up the bottle of water-based lubricant resting on the steamy floor. (A/N: Please refrain from using silicone-based lube with silicone toys if you don’t want your backdoor to burn…)

“First time?” Yujin breaks away from the kiss, giving you a wet and alluring look.

“Mmph… yea… I hope it’s not gonna hurt.” You mumble.

“Good… your first time belongs to only mommy.” Yujin whispers into your ear, flicking open the bottle and squeezes a generous amount of lube onto her strap-on.

“Ass up for mommy.” She orders.

You oblige, your hands hold on to the metal handle and arch your back, your backdoor is exposed to Yujin as your heart rate accelerates for what’s coming next.

“Relax… it’s going to feel good. And damn, you’ve got a nice ass… Such a perfect little slut for Mommy.” Yujin smacks your cheeks playfully and she spreads your ass open.

“Mmph… yes.” A cracked moan comes out of your throat as she slides a lubricated finger through the tight ring.

“Damn… you’re tight, taking me in so well.” Yujin commends.

Your back arches even higher instinctively, allowing Yujin to slide in one more finger to test the water. Her fingers scissor inside you, making you groan each time they brush through that mushy spot of yours.

Yujin chuckles, satisfied as you let out several weak whimpers.

“I think you’re ready to receive some training on obedience in front your seniors, wanted to challenge me huh?” She pulls her fingers out of your boypussy, leaving you itch and clenching around nothing.

“See? You can still chicken out right now.” Yujin teases as she presses against your back but the strap-on is already hovering between your cheeks.

You shake your head frantically, taking short breaths but you both know you’re more than ready for it.

Yujin lines up the thick head of the strap-on and pushes into you slowly. Your tight ring gets stretch open – a little bit of burning at first but immediately follows is a strange sense of fullness. The lube makes the process smoother as half of the length is already deep into you by the time you realize to breathe again.

“Hmmph… so tight… You’re taking mommy’s cock like you’re made for it, little slut.” Yujin murmurs as she grabs your hip with one of her hands and the other lazily stroking your half-soft shaft. But it is quickly recovering from both Yujin’s dirty talks and the sensation from behind.

After making sure you’re taking her in nicely like her boy slut, Yujin starts her thrusting.

She pushes in deep in rhythmic pulses, making sure each one of the thrusts sends sparks through your prostate. Your moans mixed with broken cries echo off the tiles full of neediness. Yujin does not slow down as she keeps fucking you with a control power like a true Taekwondo master she is – right on the target, rapid but steady. The pleasure is still building despite your exhausting body and almost-empty balls. But Yujin’s relentless stimulation on your prostate simply makes resisting not an option.

“Tell me, who owns this ass?” Yujin grins as she slaps your cheeks with force, but the pain is soon getting overpowered by the will to submit.

“Mmph… fuck, it’s all yours Yujin… I’m mommy’s boy slut!” You scream.

“Aw~ Really? I thought you really hated me. But now look at who is getting fucked by me with shaky legs. Hehehe~”

Your final bit of rational thoughts is stripped away as Yujin grabs your hips with both hands and ram into you in a relentless fashion. Your cock is springing between your legs; dripping precum down to the slippery shower floor.

Yujin applies even more lube, letting it drip all over your bare ass down to your legs. But you’re at the edge of the cliff.

“Oh fuck… fuck… I’m gonna come.” You moan.

“Really? You’re so weak… I thought you could last longer, (sighs) come for mommy then~ drain those balls for me.” Yujin giggles but she never stops her slow but steady thrusts into you.

You follow your instinct and want to stroke yourself through that finishing line, but the moment hits a bit too fast – you reach your climax handsfree and your length twitches weakly down below and sprays all the remaining juice you’ve got onto the floor.

“M... mommy!” You scream out loud as Yujin pushes deep in for the final time and the tip of the strap-on applies huge pressure right onto your prostate. You are a goner; the whole world converges to that single point of contact where Yujin shows you exactly who you belong to.

“Good boy~ you did so well for mommy, took me in nice and deep.” She pulls out, praising you while padding your wet hair from the shower. You collapse onto the ground, leaning on the wall in the steamy air of the stall. Yujin caresses your hair slowly, “No more dethroning me?”

“I… I only want you to fuck me…” You confess, tone with nothing but pure submission.

“Ah, that’s my good boy~ You’re really nicely trained right now, mommy is really proud of you.” Yujin pouts, while nodding proudly. “Maybe that little body of yours is not built for fighting and Taekwondo…”

“W… what?” You are confused.

“It’s built for serving your mommy, hmm? Gosh, I never knew there is such a sub little boy in my club. ‘I’m mommy’s boy slut?’ That’s lame as fuck, but well it was also kinda cute.” She smiles.

You face becomes as red as an actual skewer of Tanghulu, “I… I never knew I needed all this too… until today.” You mumble.

“You definitely do, maybe it’s more than need, even. Now another bad boy becomes a good boy.”

“W…what? What the fuck do you mean by another?” You don’t get it.

“There is this naught student in my class… that fucked up his Finals and went to me and begged me to let him pass.” Yujin sighs.

“Huh? Aren’t you an undergraduate? What are you talking about?” Your eyes open wide, looking at the woman before you yet you still refuse to acknowledge the fact that she’s a teacher.

“I take that as a compliment, baby boy~ You’re implying that I look young? Thank you so much!” She seems happy.

“Hey stop joking, you seriously teach?”

“I do. Well, I was messing with you, I am not that older than you. I just got my degree when I was in high school. On Pocanomics by the way.”

“What even is that subject? And don’t you have to go to university and shit?”

“It’s basically gambling, if you will. But honestly, it was a fascinating subject and since it relies so much on luck? You need luck to get your degrees! I got it in one try in a lottery, so here I am now. Luck is skills.” Yujin laughs in a puppy face with full pride.

“You… you got your degree from a lottery? What type of bullshit is this study?” You shout out loud.

“Trust me baby boy, that’s the most normal thing of the subject… hey! Why are you questioning your mommy?”

“S…sorry mommy.”

“Alright, get yourself cleaned up. I’ll go pack up the stuff first.” Yujin stands up and stretches her long legs, ready to go back to the dojang.

“W…wait! Mommy Yujin!” You hesitate for a second, but eventually call her name as she’s pacing out.

“What’s up?”

“W…when is the next training session? I think I wanna make an appointment…” The end of the sentence is barely audible due to the embarrassment.

“Gosh… you’re really asking it already… Fine! Maybe I’ll even let you pick what toys I’m going to use on you since you took me in so well today.” Yujin doesn’t turn around, but that’s enough to make your heart race again.

Before Haerin came into your life, it felt like you were living in a simulation. You had a normal, boring routine—you stocked up the books at the library, directed the kindergarten teachers where to lead their students, and went home. 

That’s what you did because you were a fresh grad with a journalism major and no backups and also, nobody wanted to fucking hire you. They said something about mental ability, which was insulting, to say the least. Why should they let some stupid doctor define how you could prove yourself? You had batchmates with less amazing CVs than you and one of them is an author now. New York Times bestseller. Signed copies going for thousands of dollars.

And you? You’re stuck in your local public library, getting sick quite literally because of the dust (endless dust), and pretending that you still want to live. You had no parents or siblings to be of service to. All you had in this world was you, and you weren’t an ideal person to love. You can be honest with yourself.

But then Haerin walked in. The moment the door of the library clinked open, so did her entrance to your life. You knew you loved her immediately. It had to be fate, because this girl—this impossibly beautiful girl—walked up to you and asked:

“Where can I find a book about dreams?”

You stared at her dumbly, your Adam’s apple bobbing. She had curly hair and serious almond eyes that stared into your soul. 

“Hello?” she said. “My name is Haerin. I need a book about dreams.”

“A-Are you looking for anything in particular?”

If Haerin was weirded out, she didn’t show it. Her face didn’t move an inch in spite of its soft lines. “No,” she replied. Always so straightforward, even… now? 

“No authors? Because—um, I have a manuscript right now about a dreamer.”

“Really,” said Haerin, and you couldn’t tell if she was fascinated or sarcastic. 

“He had a dream about a girl with catlike eyes. She kept appearing in his dreams until one day, she walked in as if she was real.”

Haerin stared blankly at you. You really fumbled big-time. You looked around at the dusty shelves and the dozing librarian and the dim lights. Here was a girl who had a classic beauty straight out of paintings with the composed clarity of a musical sheet. She didn’t belong here. She deserved to be somewhere she could be recognized and lauded for how beautiful she is.

And instead, she had a nosy librarian’s assistant using a cheesy pickup line on her.

Haerin started to laugh. Her serious eyes looked soft for a moment there, and all you could see in the caramel brown was you. You wanted to tell her about the silence rule but you couldn’t. You were laughing, too. Both of you could get in trouble.

“I’m sorry. That was really corny,” you admitted, scratching the back of your neck.

Haerin stifled the last of her giggles. “That’s fine. We can always start again. Watch.”

She snapped her fingers before turning on her heel. Her Mary Janes brought her back where you started, and back to the desk where you would start again. She was smiling this time as she held out her hand.

“Hi, I’m Kang Haerin,” she said. You shook hands firmly. “I dreamed about a guy who used a corny line to hit on me. But it’s fine, because he was really cute and I could tell he’s nice. Do you think I can find a story like that anywhere?”

Above you, the lamp flickered once. It never did that before. Must be a sign.

You smiled back at her. “I have just the thing.”

-

It didn’t take much dating for you to know she was the one. You knew from the second you saw her. But Haerin was shyer than she had let herself come across, and that didn’t matter anyway because you were willing to wait. You would wait forever if you needed to.

Forever lasted four months. On the first date, she wore a chic black dress with her hair now straightened in dark locks. You had coffee together. She talked about how, like you, she was also a fresh grad. She took theater, which surprised you because she didn’t look the type to show expression. One time, you made a funny joke and Haerin laughed without smiling. You apologized for your lack of humor and she had to clarify that she loved the joke.

But Haerin had many faces. One she often used was the expressionless look that made her a blank canvas.

“People are going to take me the wrong way whatever I do,” she explained over a sip of her black coffee. “So I just don’t respond at all and let them think about what I meant.”

“Do you ever show them what you actually feel?” 

Haerin shrugged. “Only to the people I know could take me the wrong way but still love me anyway.”

Another face Haerin had was one that showed her wide, toothy smile. It took a lot to get it out of her, until it didn’t. It made you realize that Haerin wasn’t as hard to make happy as people thought. She said she was often told she was a strange girl; her exes never knew what she wanted and broke things off when they gave up. 

But when you moved in together, she laughed when she heard you speak through a mouthful of toothpaste. She smiled when you kissed her under the moonlight at the balcony. Her eyes lit up whenever you told her you got her a new book. 

“How do you always know what I want?” she asked in disbelief, flipping the hardbound on her lap. She looked even prettier without the makeup or distressed perm, when she lounged on your sofa with her natural straight hair wearing your shirt.

“You said you wanted a classic mystery, and you could never go wrong with Sherlock Holmes.” You waved it off. You turned the television off for the night. Haerin hated the drill of the multiple-of-five volume dialogue when she’s trying to get herself sleepy.

“But how did you know? It’s so perfect.”

Doesn’t she get it? “It’s easy to tell what you want, Haerin. Ridiculously easy, I don’t even have to try.”

Haerin rolled her eyes, but she got an idea. She crawled over to you and made herself comfortable on your lap. Her bare thighs were smooth against yours. You held her waist as she stared deeply into your eyes. 

Not only was Haerin attentive and sweet. It was like God took her qualities and made her physical form just as beautiful. She had a tiny, blemishless face with a nose you loved to nuzzle against. Her body was small and her waist fit into your hands perfectly, like you were made to hold her.

Haerin was smirking. “Alright then,” she said. “If you always know what I want, tell me what I want now.”

Her voice was soft. You looked down at her pink mouth and back up into those dreamy eyes. Like you said, way too easy.

“Me.”

“Don’t get smart,” said Haerin, but she proved you right with a deep, literally breathtaking kiss.

When Haerin kissed, it was like she was trying to pull the soul out of your mortal form and join it with her own. She closed her eyes and shoved her tongue deep in your mouth, her hips working in circles on your lap. The tiny pair of lace panties quickly got wet, and she moaned when your tip bumped against that patch of arousal.

This face was one she only showed to you. You slipped your hands under that big shirt and felt her toned abdomen and perky breasts, feeling her up and down. Every little touch made Haerin’s breath catch. It made her grind her clit more urgently against your erection, looking for something only you can give her. Most of all, it made her face twist and contort into one of pure pleasure, eyes widening and lips parting.

Haerin couldn’t take it anymore. She slipped her panties to the side, showing how wet you made her. She’s soaked as she took you inside her. Her body tightened up and curled into your arms. Your T-shirt long gone, Haerin started to ride you like she needed it. Like you’d disappear if she didn’t get what she wanted while you were here.

“Oh, oh fuck, right there…” Haerin shivered when you started thrusting up to meet her halfway. She had coated your length from base to head with her juices. There’s an endless stream of it.

You pulled her down with you. The sofa springs bore the intensity of your strokes. You held her hand as you kissed and bit her neck, groaning into her vanilla-sweet flesh. She was so easy to take when she was always so wet for you. Her legs locked behind your back in order to keep you there.

“Don’t stop, please,” whimpered Haerin, eyes filled with stars. “I love you. Don’t leave me.”

The lamp sitting on your center table went out. You couldn’t see Haerin’s face bathed in reds and oranges anymore. But you loved her, and so you kept your promise.

-

You were finally sure after years of not having things figured out. You were unsure about what you wanted to be. You were even more unsure when the time came for you to choose a course. When you graduated in that stadium with flowers surrounding you and cheers deafening you, you didn’t know what to do with your degree. You had no idea where to go.

But Haerin made you so certain of yourself. You didn’t want to paint her as someone who was the solution to all your problems and illustrate her to be a savior she never chose to be. But it wasn’t a coincidence that she came right when you were lost and suddenly you were on track for the first time in your life.

She made you want to become something. Just looking at her caused you to think of all the beautiful things a beautiful girl like her deserved—a good boyfriend, a nice car, a relationship that nurtured her. So you worked hard to give her all of that.

She held a hand to her mouth when she saw the gorgeous car parked in the garage. She was half-sobbing, half-laughing. “This is so sweet. What did I do to deserve you? Thank you, but—”

“What?”

She burst out laughing like never before. “I don’t know how to drive…” she replied. She looked a little sullen now. You took money out of your own pocket to get her a beautiful car only for her to be unable to drive. She couldn’t even parallel park. You probably thought it was a waste.

But you placed an arm around her and kissed her on top of her head. “It’s alright, baby,” you said. “I’ll do it for you. We can go wherever you like.” 

All she had to do was say the words. You took her everywhere: malls, forests, airports. Funny; you only got a driver’s license the year before. You commuted back and forth but with Haerin, you revved the car up and picked her up from the salon. 

All she had to do was ask. So now, you were at a beach where the shores were nearly white and the skies seemed to fall down on your shoulders. The clouds bore the weight of it all. It was nearly winter, so there was but a faint bit of sunlight. It refracted in the bubbles Haerin blew into the wind. 

She was smiling so brightly. That was the only sunshine you needed.

Later that night, she said she didn’t want to leave yet. So you started a campfire while she bought soft marshmallows from the nearby grocery. A woollen quilt kept her warm. You let the fire toast your marshmallows into a rich brown.

“What if we get lost doing this?” Haerin asked. She looked at the stars in the sky, the sand around her. “Doing…” She gestured vaguely with her hands. “All of this. These wild adventures without a map or even a GPS.”

“We won’t,” you replied. You sounded so sure of yourself. It didn’t once occur to you that you could live a life without Kang Haerin. She belonged in your passenger seat, your lap, the deep brooks of your heart.

She bit off a piece of marshmallow from her stick. “We still have to be careful though. We won’t know every street forever.”

Right. Because one day, when you two got older and hopefully wiser, these roads would change. You wouldn’t know everybody in the neighborhood as soon as the newer, younger ones filed in. Everything would be nothing like you knew it was.

You hated to say it, but in spite of the darkness that dressed Haerin’s words, she was right. It wouldn’t be like this forever.

“Okay,” you said finally, thinking for a moment. “If I lost you, what would you do to lead me back?”

Haerin sat back into the sand. So many thoughts ran into her head at all hours of the day, and if you didn’t love her to death, you wouldn’t know. She often looked too mature, too composed to ever be bothered by anything. The Kang Haerin everybody knew was resilient. And when she was too resilient, she could risk being malleable to people. They could lie to themselves by saying they could mold her into whoever they wanted her to be. 

But that wasn’t Haerin. So she turned up her chin and said, “I’d open a light.”

“What kind of light?” 

“I dunno, anything.” She shrugged. “A fire, lamplight, or campfire. It doesn’t matter. If I shine it, I know you’ll get me out of the dark.”

The flames danced in golden flickers in her eyes. Haerin stared at it until her marshmallow burned and joined the ashes at the bottom of the log pile. You gave her your share.

“How about you?” Haerin asked. She scooted closer until the contact of your bodies seemed to spark hotter than the campfire itself. “How would I know if you’re lost?”

“Don’t worry about that. Leave the saving to me.”

-

Haerin didn’t like fighting with you. It made her cry real tears that could fill a pool if either of you were rich enough to afford one. She didn’t like all the yelling. She didn’t like how small it made her feel and not in the good way you managed to make it out to be when you’re in the chambers of your bedroom.

You tried not to yell at her. Whenever your voice got too intense, you turned away from her so she couldn’t see that you were angry. It helped you too because you couldn’t bear to see her sad. It felt like you were one with her emotions and tore you into pieces as it did to her.

“I just don’t know why you’re doing this,” she said. “You said you loved me. Why don’t you fucking show it?”

Unbelievable. You curled your hands through your hair and stopped yourself from pulling it out of the scalp. 

“What else do you want me to do? I give you everything, Haerin. My car, my clothes, my time.” 

The calendar pages ripped faster than the seams on your jacket. It’s been months since you graduated and she’s nearly twenty years old. You’re happy with each other. You’re the best company both of you could ever ask for. No one can understand you quite like Haerin does.

But oftentimes, that isn’t enough.

It’s what she’s trying to get across. Haerin’s dress tatters were crushed in her fists. She’s crying her heart out because she didn’t like being reminded of that. Ever. Youth was so comfortable it tricked you into believing it was something eternal. 

You finally had the courage to turn around and look her in the eyes. To look her in those big, beautiful eyes and force yourself to recognize the truth. There were real problems in the world that trips and outings and sex couldn’t solve. 

“Time, baby,” you said softly, in a broken voice you couldn’t claim as your own. It had been a while since you sounded so unsure. “Do you know how little time we have left?”

Neither of you should be blinded by the quick bliss you had now. You shouldn’t be fools. The lamp’s starting to look weird again. You needed to wake up—

Wake up.

-

Wake up. 

The air that hits you is cold. You open your eyes groggily and quickly find out why. A blue hospital gown doesn’t really help warm your legs. The blanket is thin and cheap. The only warmth you can find is from the dull sting of pain from the needles shoved in the veins of your arms. 

What an odd dream that was. You lift yourself up on the bed the best you can. Your body still feels tired. Part of you wants to go back to sleep again, but you stop yourself. If you close your eyes, you’re not sure if you’re going to wake up again.

You trail your fingers on the thick bandage taped to your skull. Around you, colorful balloons dance in the steady AC wind. You squint. One reads, in cursive: Happy 20th! 

Before you is a wide television screen. Right now, it presents a photo of a girl with catlike eyes and hair curled for what looks to be a music show event. She’s smiling, but the headline gives her no reason to. It tells you of the lawsuit that follows her and her band at their heels, how it won’t leave them alone.

But then the night would fall, and the dynamic would shift.

It was always unannounced. A sharp, impatient knock on your door at eleven PM, or one in the morning. You’d open it to find her there, sometimes still in her day clothes, sometimes changed into something looser, easier to remove. She never greeted you with a smile; she greeted you with a look of hunger, a need that stripped away the social niceties.

"Stressed," she’d say, pushing past you into the small entryway of your apartment, a bottle of soju or cheap wine in her hand. That was the code. It was the only explanation you ever got.

She would drink, just enough to take the edge off, turning her sharp intellect into something hazier, more tactile. And then she would turn to you. Those encounters were blurs of skin and heat—her straddling you on your couch, her fingers gripping your shoulders, her mouth demanding yours. She used you to chase away the pressure of her classes, the expectations of her family, the weight of being the smart, beautiful senior everyone looked up to. You were her outlet, her release valve. When she was done, when the tension had been fucked out of her system, she would redress, her demeanor shifting instantly back to cool detachment.

"Thanks," she would mutter, already heading for the door. "I'll see myself out."

And then she was gone, leaving you alone in the quiet of your apartment, the scent of her perfume lingering on your pillows, a lingering ache in your chest that had nothing to do with the physical exertion.

You realized, with a sinking feeling that settled in your gut like a stone, that this was exactly what you’d signed up for. It wasn’t a romance. It wasn’t even really a friendship. It was a Friends with Benefits situation in the truest, most cynical sense of the word. She benefited from the stress relief; you benefited from the scrapes of affection she threw your way, the moments when she let you see the cracks in her armor.

You told yourself it was enough. You told yourself that being this close to her, even in this fragmented way, was more than you’d ever dared to hope for back in high school. But as the days dragged on, the silence between the knock on the door became louder. The way she ignored you on campus started to sting. You’d watch her laughing with Nakyoung over iced coffees, looking so effortlessly charismatic, so distant, and wonder if she ever thought about you when you weren't inside her.

Then, the visits stopped.

It had been seven days. A week of silence. No late-night knocks. No texts. You’d walked past her in the quad on Tuesday; she’d been deep in conversation with a professor, nodding earnestly, not sparing you a single glance. You’d started to settle back into the monotony of your own life, the strange, adrenaline-fueled routine fading into a memory. Maybe she was done with you. Maybe she’d found someone else, or maybe the stress had lifted enough that she didn't need a distraction anymore.

The thought left you hollow, but you tried to accept it. It was bound to happen eventually.

It was a Friday night, the rain drumming a relentless rhythm against your window, filling your small apartment with a grey, melancholy light. You were sitting on the couch, staring at a paused movie on your laptop, nursing a lukewarm beer, when the buzzer rang.

The sound was so unexpected, so jarring in the quiet, that you jumped. Your heart hammered against your ribs, a Pavlovian response. You glanced at the clock. It was late. Too late for a social call.

You moved to the intercom, your finger hovering over the button. "Hello?"

"It's… open up. Please."

The voice wasn't Sohyun's. It was lower, slightly huskier, and unmistakably familiar. You frowned, your brow furrowing. You knew that voice. You’d heard it echoing across lecture halls, laughing at tables you couldn't sit at.

You buzzed the door open, waiting with a growing sense of confusion. Heavy footsteps thundered up the stairs—not Sohyun's light, quick tread, but something heavier, more purposeful. Then, a sharp knock on your door.

You unlocked it and pulled it open.

The first thing you saw was a pair of long legs, ending in expensive-looking boots scuffed with mud. Your eyes traveled up, past a soaked trench coat, to a face that was usually composed and regal, but was currently scrunched up in a mixture of annoyance and exertion.

Xinyu.

The "Goddess" of the campus. Tall, imposing, with features so sharp and elegant they looked carved from marble. But right now, she looked like she was struggling under a significant weight. You realized, with a start, that she was half-carrying, half-dragging someone slumped against her side.

Sohyun.

Your breath caught in your throat. Sohyun was a mess. Her hair, usually so sleek and perfect, was a tangled curtain obscuring half her face. Her clothes—a silk blouse and a skirt that looked far too thin for the rainy weather—were damp and clinging to her. Her eyes were closed, her head lolling dangerously against Xinyu’s shoulder. She was muttering something, a low, repetitive string of syllables that you couldn't quite make out.

Xinyu grunted, shifting her grip. "Are you going to help me, or are you just going to stand there ogling?"

"Sorry!" you stammered, stepping forward quickly. You reached out and took Sohyun's other arm, draping it over your shoulder. The smell of alcohol hit you instantly—sharp, pungent, mixed with the scent of rain and expensive perfume. "Is she okay?"

"She's drunk," Xinyu snapped, though her tone lacked real malice. It sounded more like exhaustion. "F wasted. She insisted on going to some shitty dive bar in Hongdae, and now I'm stuck playing nurse. Move her."

Together, you maneuvered Sohyun through the doorway. She was dead weight, her legs barely moving, her body completely limp. It was a surreal experience, touching Xinyu at all, even indirectly—the brushing of shoulders, the coordinated effort to lift Sohyun. Xinyu was taller than you, strong, her presence commanding even while she was sweaty and annoyed.

You guided Sohyun to the couch. "Easy," you murmured, trying to lower her gently. Sohyun groaned as she hit the cushions, her head rolling back. Her eyes fluttered open for a fraction of a second, glassy and unfocused. She looked right at you, but there was no recognition in her gaze. Just a vague, swimming confusion.

"Your… name…" she slurred, before her eyes slid shut again.

Xinyu straightened up, pressing a hand to her lower back and letting out a long, dramatic exhale. "Fuck, she is heavy," she complained, running a hand through her own hair, which was frizzy from the rain. "How does someone that tiny weigh so much? It’s like dragging a sack of bricks."

She looked around your apartment, her gaze critical, taking in the small living space, the paused movie on the laptop, the empty beer bottle on the table. The contrast between her usual polished environment and your modest, student-apartment reality was stark.

Then, she seemed to realize something. She paused, her posture stiffening slightly. She looked back at you, really looking at you for the first time. "Fuck, I'm sorry. I haven't even introduced myself. That was rude." She extended a hand, her expression shifting from annoyed to something more polite, almost formal. "I'm Xinyu. Nice to meet you."

You stared at her hand for a second, slightly bewildered by the sudden whiplash in the conversation. You wiped your palm on your jeans—not that it mattered, given she was drenched anyway—and took her hand. Her grip was firm, her skin cool from the rain.

"Nice to meet you too… I guess," you replied, feeling a bit lame.

Xinyu let out a short, dry laugh. "Yeah. 'I guess' covers it." She didn't let go of your hand immediately, her eyes studying your face with an intensity that made you want to squirm. She had sharp, intelligent eyes, the kind that missed nothing. "You're the one from the party, right? The freshman she's been… hanging out with?"

"Uh, yeah," you said, not sure how much Sohyun had told her. You certainly didn't think Sohyun advertised your arrangement to her inner circle.

"Right." Xinyu dropped your hand and walked over to your armchair. Without asking, she sank into it, letting her head fall back against the cushion. She closed her eyes, letting out a sound that was half-groan, half-sigh. "God, I'm bloody tired. I swear, if I ever have to listen to Nakyoung talk about her diet plan again while Sohyun does shots, I’m going to scream."

You watched her, unsure of what to do. This was Xinyu. The girl who had headlines in the campus newspaper for winning debate nationals three years in a row. The girl who walked around with an entourage. And she was currently sprawled out in your second-hand armchair, looking like she'd just run a marathon.

"Yo… A-are You okay?" you asked, feeling stupid as soon as the words left your mouth.

She cracked one eye open, giving you a withering look. "Do I look okay? I've been dragging her drunk ass around for two hours. She refused to get in a taxi, she refused to tell me where she lived, and then she started mumbling your name and your address like a broken GPS. It was either bring her here or leave her to drown in a gutter on the side of the road."

She sat up slightly, wincing. "And I just realized I barged in. Sorry about that. I just wanted to drop her off and get out of this rain."

"No, it's fine," you said quickly, moving toward the small kitchenette. "Really. Do you… do you want some water? Or anything else?"

"Water," she said decisively. "Please."

You opened the fridge, the cool air washing over you for a second. You grabbed a bottle of filtered water—the nice stuff you bought for yourself, hoping Sohyun might drink it someday if she ever deigned to visit sober. You twisted the cap off and walked it over to her.

Xinyu took it, her fingers brushing yours. "Thanks," she said, bringing the bottle to her lips and drinking deeply. You watched her throat move, the elegant lines of her neck. It was strange to see her like this—unguarded, human. Usually, she seemed untouchable, a paragon of campus success.

She lowered the bottle, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. She looked over at the couch, where Sohyun was sprawled on her back, one arm dangling off the edge, snoring softly.

"She's going to have a massive headache tomorrow," Xinyu commented, her voice quieter now. "She's been stressed lately. More than usual. That debate tournament is coming up, and she's obsessing."

You nodded, leaning against the counter. "Yeah. She mentioned something about that."

Xinyu turned her gaze back to you. The scrutiny was back. "You know," she began, her tone shifting, becoming more conversational, almost probing. "I've known Sohyun since freshman year. We go way back. And I have never seen her act the way she has this past week."

You stiffened slightly. "How do you mean?"

"She disappears," Xinyu said, gesturing vaguely with the water bottle. "She ghosts us. No texts, no calls. And then she shows up the next day looking… well, like she got exactly what she needed. Disheveled. Glow-y." She paused, letting the implication hang in the air. "It's not like her to be so… reckless. She's usually so controlled. Everything is a calculation with her."

You didn't know what to say to that. You picked at a loose thread on your jeans, avoiding her eyes. "She's just busy. I guess."

"Busy," Xinyu repeated, testing the word. She let out a short, humorless laugh. "Sure. Busy." She took another sip of water, her eyes never leaving your face. Then, she dropped the bomb.

"So, did you two fuck each other or something? Cause ain't no way Sohyun could've remembered some guy's name and address, let alone a freshman's, without something."

The bluntness of it made you choke on your own spit. You coughed, your face heating up instantly. "What?"

Xinyu didn't flinch. She just watched you struggle, a faint smirk playing on her lips. It wasn't a mocking smirk, more like an amused, knowing one. "Oh, come on. Don't play coy. You know what I mean. Sohyun doesn't do 'friends' outside the circle. She certainly doesn't do 'random acquaintances' who live in studio apartments off-campus. For her to know exactly where you are, and to come here when she's like that…" She nodded at the sleeping girl on the couch. "There's a reason."

You looked at Sohyun, then back at Xinyu. The lie died on your tongue. There was no point denying it to someone this sharp.

"We…" You started, then stopped, clearing your throat. "Yeah. We're… I mean, we've been hanging out."

Xinyu raised an eyebrow. "Hanging out. Is that what they call it these days?" She leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees. The movement caused her coat to fall open slightly, revealing a fitted top underneath. "Look, I'm not judging. God knows Sohyun needs to get laid. She's wound up so tight she's going to snap. It's just…" She tilted her head, studying you. "Surprising. That's all."

"Why?" you asked, feeling a spark of defensiveness. "Why is it surprising?"

"Because you're not her type," Xinyu said, bluntly.

You blinked. "Oh."

"Not that you aren't cute," she added, as if that softened the blow. "You are. In a puppy-dog kind of way. But Sohyun usually goes for guys who challenge her. Guys who are arrogant, who think they're smarter than her, who fight back. She likes the debate. The struggle." She glanced at the couch again. "You seem… nice. That's the problem. Nice is boring to her. Usually."

You felt a strange pang in your chest. It was the validation of your own worst fears. The transactional nature of your relationship, the way she ignored you in public—it all made sense under Xinyu's analysis. You were a convenience. A "nice" distraction. You weren't a challenge; you were a solution.

"But," Xinyu continued, her voice dragging out the word, "she came here. Tonight. When she was at her lowest. When she was wasted and vulnerable. She could've called any of us. She could've called Yooyeon, or Nakyoung. We would've picked her up in a second. But she mumbled your name."

She looked back at you, her gaze losing some of its sharpness, becoming more curious. "So, you must be doing something right. Or maybe," she paused, a thoughtful expression crossing her face, "maybe she's changing her mind about what her type is."

You didn't know how to respond to that. You looked at Sohyun again, really looked at her. She was pale, her breathing shallow. The commanding, confident woman who rode you with such authority just a week ago seemed miles away. She looked small. Fragile.

"Is she going to be okay?" you asked softly.

Xinyu sighed, the sound heavy. "Yeah. She just needs sleep. And about a gallon of water." She finished her own water and stood up, placing the empty bottle on your table. "I should get going. I have a study group at eight AM and I smell like a wet dog."

"Thanks for bringing her," you said sincerely. "Really."

"Yeah, yeah." Xinyu buttoned her coat, checking her phone. She paused at the door, her hand on the handle. She turned back to you one last time.

"Listen," she said, her voice lower. "Sohyun… she's complicated. She has walls up higher than the campus library. Don't take it personally if she's an asshole. She doesn't mean to be. Usually." She gave you a wry smile. "Just… take care of her tonight, okay? And maybe… don't let her pretend she doesn't know you tomorrow when she's sober."

With that, she opened the door and stepped out into the hallway. "By the way," she added, poking her head back in. "Your apartment is cozy. It's got… character."

"Thanks," you said.

"See you around, Freshman." And with a final, enigmatic nod, she was gone.

You closed the door behind her, the lock clicking into place with a finality that echoed in the sudden quiet. You stood there for a moment, listening to the rain outside, the silence inside. Your apartment felt different now. It had been invaded by the "real" world, by the people Sohyun actually belonged to.

You walked over to the couch. Sohyun hadn't moved. You sat down on the edge of the coffee table, facing her. Watching her sleep like this felt more intimate than anything you'd done with her sexually. This wasn't the persona she put on for you, or the mask she wore for the world. This was just Sohyun. Unconscious. Vulnerable.

You reached out, brushing a stray lock of hair away from her forehead. Her skin was cool to the touch.

"You really are a handful, aren't you?" you whispered to the empty room.

Xinyu's words rattled around in your head. "Nice is boring to her." "She mumbled your name." "Don't let her pretend she doesn't know you tomorrow."

You looked at the clock. It was past two AM. You were tired, your own head starting to throb from the unexpected drama of the night. But you couldn't just leave her on the couch. She’d be stiff and miserable in the morning.

You stood up and gently maneuvered her, lifting her upper body. She groaned again, murmuring something unintelligible, but didn't wake. It was a struggle, but you managed to get her arms around your shoulders and half-carry her to your bed. You laid her down gently, pulling the duvet over her. You took off her boots, setting them neatly by the side of the bed.

She curled up instantly, burrowing into the pillow. You stood there for a moment, looking down at her. The bed still smelled faintly of your laundry detergent, but now there was the smell of her too—rain and alcohol and that distinct floral scent.

You grabbed a spare pillow and a blanket from the closet and headed back to the living room. The couch was lumpy, but it would do. You lay down, staring up at the ceiling, listening to the rain and the soft, rhythmic sound of Sohyun breathing from the other room.

Tomorrow would be awkward. You knew that. She’d wake up, realize where she was, likely be horrified that her friend had delivered her to your door like a package. She’d put her walls back up. She’d probably ignore you on campus again.

But as you closed your eyes, a strange thought settled over you. Xinyu was right. Sohyun had a choice. And she’d chosen you. Even in her drunken haze, she’d chosen your apartment over her friends.

You didn't know what it meant. You didn't know if it changed anything. But for the first time since this strange, fractured relationship began, you felt like maybe, just maybe, there was a crack in the glass. A real one. And you weren't ready to give up on finding out what lay on the other side just yet.

Morning light sliced through the thin gaps in your blinds, harsh and unforgiving, rousing you from a sleep that had been more like a series of long blinks than actual rest. Your neck was a stiff, knotted column of pain from sleeping on the couch, and your mouth tasted like stale air. You sat up, groaning as your spine popped in protest. The apartment was quiet, save for the low hum of the refrigerator and the faint, rhythmic breathing coming from the bedroom.

Sohyun was still in there.

The events of the night before flooded back—Xinyu’s sharp gaze, the weight of Sohyun against your shoulder, the smell of rain and expensive perfume saturating your small living space. It felt surreal, like a fever dream that had spilled over into reality. You rubbed your face, trying to scrub away the grogginess. You needed coffee. You needed a lot of coffee.

You shuffled to the kitchenette, the floorboards cold under your bare feet. You were filling the kettle when a sharp knock rattled the doorframe. It wasn't the hesitant buzz of the intercom, but a solid, authoritative knock. You knew who it was before you even reached for the handle.

You pulled the door open to find Xinyu standing there, looking remarkably put-together considering the state she was in last night. She held a tray carrier with two iced coffees and a paper bag that smelled of sugar and burnt beans. She was wearing a large, oversized trench coat over a hoodie, her hair tied back in a sleek, no-nonsense ponytail.

"Morning, sunshine," she said, breezing past you without waiting for an invitation. "I brought supplies. I figured you’d be operating on about three percent brain function right now."

"Thanks," you managed, closing the door behind her. "You weren't wrong."

"I usually aren't." She set the coffee down on your small table and leaned against the counter, eyeing the closed bedroom door. "Sleeping Beauty still dead to the world?"

"Yeah. Haven't checked in a bit, but she hasn't moved."

Xinyu nodded, crossing her arms. "Good. Let her sleep. God knows she needs it." She popped the lid off one of the coffees and took a sip, her eyes scanning your apartment again with that same critical curiosity from last night. "So," she started, her tone casual but laced with an undercurrent of interrogation. "You survived the night. She didn't choke on her own vomit. You didn't try anything creepy. I'd say that's a win for you."

You felt a flush creep up your neck. "I wasn't going to try anything. She was wasted, Xinyu."

"I know, I know." She waved a hand dismissively. "Just messing with you. You're too earnest for that. It’s almost nauseating." She cracked a faint smile, taking the sting out of the words. "But seriously. Sohyun doesn't do this. She doesn't do the 'damsel in distress' routine. She doesn't let people see her messy."

"Well, she was pretty messy last night," you noted, leaning back against the opposite counter. The kettle began to whistle, and you turned it off, the sudden silence amplifying the proximity between you.

"That's the thing," Xinyu said, her voice dropping an octave. "For her to end up here, with you… she trusts you. Or she's desperate. Maybe both." She studied you over the rim of her cup. "She’s been talking about you, you know. Vague stuff. 'That freshman.' 'The quiet one.' I didn't put it together until I saw her practically drooling on your shoulder last night."

You looked down at your coffee, stirring it with a straw to avoid her gaze. "She talks about me?"

"In her own way. She complains about you. How you look at her. How you're always there." Xinyu swirled her cup. "It’s funny. She pretends it annoys her, but I think she likes it. She likes that you're… constant. The rest of us, we're all climbing over each other to be the best, the smartest, the loudest. You’re just there. Static. It probably grounds her."

The compliment, if it was one, felt heavy. You opened your mouth to respond, but a sound from the bedroom cut you off. A low, miserable groan, followed by the unmistakable retch of someone waking up with their stomach in revolt.

"Speak of the devil," Xinyu sighed, setting her coffee down. "Showtime."

You were already moving, bypassing Xinyu and heading for the bedroom. You pushed the door open to find Sohyun sitting up in your bed, her hand over her mouth, her skin the color of parchment paper. Her hair was a wild halo around her head, and her eyes were squeezed shut in pain.

"Sohyun?"

She heard you, or maybe she just sensed the movement. She bolted.

She scrambled out of the bed, nearly tripping over her own boots, and stumbled toward the ensuite bathroom attached to your room. You followed right behind her. She made it to the toilet just in time, collapsing to her knees and heaving.

It was visceral and ugly. The sound echoed in the small tile space, sharp and wet. You didn't hesitate; you stepped in, grabbing her hair and holding it back from her face with one hand while you rubbed her back with the other. Her shoulders shook under your touch, her body wracked by the force of her illness.

"Fuck… I'm sorry," she gasped between retches, her voice raspy and broken. "I drank… too much."

"It's all good," you murmured, keeping your voice low and steady. "Just let it all out. You're okay."

You didn't look away. It wasn't pretty, but there was something strangely intimate about it, about being the one person here to see her at her absolute lowest and not flinch. She continued for a moment, long agonizing seconds where she purged the toxins from the night before. You kept circling her back, feeling the knob of her spine, the heat radiating off her skin.

Xinyu appeared in the doorway, leaning against the jam, her arms crossed over her chest. She watched the scene with a mixture of disgust and amusement, rolling her eyes so hard you thought they might get stuck.

"Don't you fucking dare pass out again, alright?" Xinyu said, her voice cutting through the sound of Sohyun's hacking. "You are fucking heavy to carry. I’m not doing that twice in one weekend."

Sohyun let out a weak, breathless laugh, resting her forehead against the cool porcelain of the toilet seat. "Fine… fine…" She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, taking a deep, shuddering breath. "I think… I think I'm done."

She sat back on her heels, turning to look at you. Her eyes were red-rimmed and watery, her makeup smudged, but she was still undeniably Sohyun. She looked at your hand on her shoulder, then up at your face. For a second, the arrogant senior was gone, replaced by something softer, something grateful.

"Thanks," she whispered.

"You need water," you said. "And a toothbrush. I can find an extra one."

"Please," she groaned, trying to stand up. Her legs wobbled, and you caught her arm, steadying her.

"Easy does it," you said, guiding her back toward the bed. "Sit. I'll be right back."

You left her sitting on the edge of the mattress, looking like a wilted flower, and went back into the kitchen where Xinyu was already waiting. She had opened the paper bag and was pulling out a couple of pastry boxes.

"She alive?" Xinyu asked, taking a bite of a donut.

"Barely. She's toughing it out."

Xinyu chewed thoughtfully, watching you fill a glass of water from the filter. "You're good at that," she observed.

"Good at what?"

"Taking care of her. Most guys would be freaking out, or they'd be turned off by the whole… puke thing." She gestured vaguely toward the bathroom. "You just… jumped in. Like it was nothing."

"It's not nothing," you said, grabbing a spare toothbrush from the cabinet. "She needed help."

"Yeah, well." Xinyu dusted sugar off her fingers. "Don't get used to it. She's usually a nightmare when she's hungover. She gets snappy. She says mean things she doesn't mean." She fixed you with a sharp look. "Don't take it personally if she bites your head off in ten minutes."

"Noted."

You took the water and the toothbrush back to Sohyun. She accepted them with a mumbled thanks, disappearing into the bathroom to brush her teeth and splash water on her face. When she emerged, she looked marginally more human. She had washed her face, removing the smudged makeup, leaving her skin bare and pale. She had re-tied her hair into a loose knot.

She sat back down on the bed, looking around the room. Her eyes landed on you, then flicked to the doorway where Xinyu was lingering.

"Am I… interrupting?" Sohyun asked, her voice still rough but regaining a bit of its usual edge.

"Nope," Xinyu said, breezing into the room and perching on the edge of your dresser. "Just enjoying the show. It's not every day I see Campus Queen Sohyun looking like a drowned rat."

Sohyun shot her a glare, but it lacked her usual venom. "Shut up, Xinyu. If you didn't want to deal with it, you shouldn't have dragged me here."

"I dragged you here because you were begging for it," Xinyu countered smoothly. "You were like a broken record. 'Take me to him. Take me to him.' It was pathetic."

You felt your ears heat up. You looked at Sohyun, trying to gauge her reaction. She didn't deny it. She just looked down at her hands, picking at a loose thread on the blanket.

"I was drunk," she muttered.

"You were honest," Xinyu corrected. "There's a difference."

The room fell into a heavy silence. The tension in the air was thick, a three-way knot of secrets and hangovers and unspoken things. Sohyun shifted on the bed, clearly uncomfortable. She wasn't used to being the one on the back foot, the one being exposed.

"So," Xinyu said, clapping her hands together and breaking the moment. "Should I leave or something? Let you two lovebirds have your awkward post-drink cuddle?"

Sohyun looked up, her expression clearing. She let out a short, dry laugh. "Hey, don't be like that. Spend some time with him too, you know. He's a great guy."

She looked at you when she said it, her eyes locking onto yours. There was a sincerity there that you hadn't expected. It wasn't a performance for Xinyu. She meant it.

Xinyu rolled her eyes, but a small smile played on her lips. "Yeah, yeah. I can tell. He brought me coffee." She looked at you. "Alright. I'll stay. But only if you feed me. I'm starving."

You felt a wave of relief. You didn't want to be alone with Sohyun yet—not while she was like this. Having Xinyu there acted as a buffer, a bridge between your worlds.

"I can order delivery," you offered. "Fried chicken? Tteokbokki?"

Sohyun's stomach visibly lurched at the mention of spicy food, but Xinyu nodded enthusiastically. "Yes. And grilled meat. Lots of it. We need to soak up the alcohol."

You spent the next twenty minutes scrolling through delivery apps on your phone while Sohyun slowly rehydrated and Xinyu paced around the small apartment, commenting on your lack of decoration and your "cozy" vibe. It felt domestic in a way you never could have imagined. You, a freshman, sitting in your apartment with two of the most senior, admired girls on campus, waiting for fried chicken.

You stood up to go check the hallway for the delivery driver, but as you neared the front door, you heard Xinyu’s voice from the balcony. You hadn't even realized she’d stepped out there.

You moved closer, intending to tell her the food was here, but her tone stopped you cold. It wasn't the bored, sarcastic drawl she used with you. It was low, vibrating with a fury that made the hair on your arms stand up.

"You fucking bitch," she hissed into the phone. "How long are you gonna fucking cheat on me? Do you think I'm stupid?"

You froze. You shouldn't be listening. This was private. But you couldn't move.

"I saw the messages, Han. Don't lie to me. You think just because she's that rival from Seoul Uni, you can just—" She cut off with a growl of frustration. "You're pathetic. You're actually pathetic. I'm done. I am so fucking done."

She ended the call with a violent tap of her thumb. You heard the clatter of the phone hitting the railing of the balcony. You hesitated for a second, debating retreating, pretending you hadn't heard a thing. But then you heard a sharp intake of breath, followed by the distinct click of a lighter.

You walked out onto the balcony.

Xinyu was standing with her back to you, one hand braced on the railing, the other bringing a sleek, white device to her lips. An electronic cigarette. She inhaled deeply, holding the vapor in her chest before exhaling a thick, sweet-smelling cloud into the damp morning air.

"A-are you sure that's healthy?" you asked, your voice sounding loud in the quiet morning.

She didn't jump. She didn't even turn around. She just took another drag, her shoulders tense. "Don't bother me right now," she snapped, her voice tight. "I'm fucking stressed out."

You stood there for a moment, watching the way the mist curled around her silhouette. You thought about what she had said—Han. You knew the name. He was a senior too, a guy in the business school who always seemed to have everything together. Apparently not.

"Well," you said slowly, stepping up beside her but keeping a respectful distance. "The food is here. I guess we should eat."

Xinyu lowered the device, turning to look at you. Her eyes were rimmed with red, whether from anger or lack of sleep you couldn't tell. She looked at you for a long moment, really looked at you, as if seeing you for the first time. Then, her expression cracked. The anger melted away, replaced by a weary, fragile amusement.

"You heard," she stated. It wasn't a question.

"Heard," you confirmed softly.

"Great." She sighed, dropping the vape into her small purse. "Now you know my tragic backstory. I'm dating a lying piece of shit who thinks with his dick."

"He sounds like an idiot," you said bluntly.

Xinyu let out a short, surprised laugh. "He is. The biggest kind." She pushed off the railing, smoothing down her coat. "But enough about that asshole. You said chicken? Let's go eat."

You walked back inside together, the air between you shifting. She didn't seem like the untouchable "Goddess" anymore. She just seemed like a girl who had been kicked in the teeth.

In the living room, Sohyun had moved from the bed to the couch. She was sitting cross-legged, scrolling through your TV list, looking for something to watch. She looked up as you and Xinyu entered with the bags of food. Her eyes darted between the two of you, narrowing slightly at Xinyu's flushed face and your close proximity.

"What took so long?" Sohyun asked, her tone sharp. "Did you get lost?"

"Just catching up," Xinyu said breezily, dropping onto the couch opposite Sohyun. "Don't worry your pretty little head about it."

You began unpacking the food—boxes of golden fried chicken, sizzling tteokbokki thick with rice cakes and fish cakes, and a platter of grilled pork belly. The smell instantly filled the room, rich and savory, cutting through the lingering scent of stale alcohol. Sohyun perked up immediately, her stomach apparently forgiving her for the earlier abuse.

"Oh my god," she groaned, reaching for a piece of chicken. "I need this."

You sat down on the floor, leaning back against the couch near Sohyun's legs. Xinyu sat on the other side, grabbing a pair of metal chopsticks. For a while, the only sounds were the clinking of chopsticks and the hum of the TV. You put on a random action movie, something with explosions and car chases that required zero brainpower.

As you ate, the atmosphere began to thaw. The tension from the morning, from Xinyu's phone call, from Sohyun's hangover, began to dissolve into the rhythm of food and comfort.

Then, Xinyu spoke. She set her chopsticks down with a sharp snap.

"So," she said, her voice calm but carrying an undercurrent of steel. "Han cheated on me."

Sohyun froze, a piece of pork halfway to her mouth. She slowly lowered it, her eyes widening. "What?"

"You heard me. With that slut from Seoul Uni. The one he debated against last month." Xinyu grabbed a can of soda, cracking it open. "He thinks I don't know. He thinks I'm oblivious."

Sohyun's face transformed instantly. The grogginess, the hunger, the reserve—it all vanished, replaced by a cold, lethal fury. "That fucker," she whispered. "That absolute piece of shit."

"He doesn't deserve you," Sohyun said, her voice rising. "He never did. I told you, Xinyu. I told you he was arrogant."

"I know," Xinyu sighed, rubbing her temples. "I know. I just… wanted it to work. You know? For once, I wanted to be the one who had the stupid, normal relationship."

You sat quietly, chewing on a piece of tteokbokki. You felt like an intruder, witnessing a private moment between best friends. You shifted slightly, trying to make yourself smaller, less noticeable.

Sohyun seemed to sense your retreat. She looked down at you, then back at Xinyu. Her eyes narrowed again, this time with a different kind of intensity. She watched the way Xinyu was leaning toward you, the way she had confided in you just minutes ago on the balcony.

"You okay?" Sohyun asked Xinyu, but her eyes flicked to you.

"I will be," Xinyu said. She looked at you, a sly, thoughtful look entering her eyes. She picked up her chopsticks again, tapping them against her lip. "Actually. I'm feeling a bit better now."

"Good," Sohyun said, tearing into a chicken wing with a little too much force. "Because he's trash. Forget him."

"I will," Xinyu agreed. She turned her gaze fully onto you. It was heavy, loaded. "Hey. You. Move up here."

You blinked, pointing to yourself. "Me?"

"Yes, you. Come sit on the couch. My neck hurts looking down at you."

You hesitated, glancing at Sohyun. Sohyun was staring at Xinyu, her expression unreadable, but you could feel the waves of tension rolling off her. She didn't say anything, though. She just watched.

You stood up and moved to the cushion between Xinyu and the armrest. It was a tight fit. Xinyu immediately shifted, closing the distance. She didn't leave an inch of space between you. Her thigh pressed against yours, warm and firm.

"See?" Xinyu said, leaning back and draping her arm casually along the back of the couch behind you. Her fingers brushed your shoulder. "Much better."

You stiffened slightly. You were acutely aware of her scent—sharp and floral, different from Sohyun's. You were acutely aware of Sohyun sitting on your other side, her presence like a furnace.

"Xinyu," Sohyun warned, her voice low.

"What?" Xinyu asked innocently, though her eyes glinted with mischief. "I'm just getting comfortable. We're having a bonding moment, aren't we?" She looked at you, tilting her head so her face was inches from yours. "Right?"

"Uh, sure?" you managed.

Xinyu smiled. It wasn't her usual sarcastic smirk. It was something softer, something dangerous. She leaned her head onto your shoulder, her hair tickling your neck. You froze. Your heart hammered against your ribs. This was Xinyu. The Ice Queen. The girl you had admired from afar for months. And she was currently using you as a pillow.

She shifted slightly, nuzzling into your shirt. "You're warm," she murmured. "It's nice."

You didn't know what to do with your hands. You kept them in your lap, gripping your knees like a lifeline.

"Am I not pretty?" Xinyu asked suddenly.

The question came out of nowhere, soft and vulnerable. She lifted her head slightly, turning her face up toward yours. Her eyes were searching, looking for cracks in your composure.

You glanced at Sohyun. She had stopped eating. She was watching the two of you with a look that was a mix of shock and something else. Something dark and possessive. Her jaw was clenched tight.

"What?" you asked, confused. "What do you mean?"

Xinyu's gaze never left yours. "Han. He cheated on me. Was I not pretty enough? Was I not… enough?"

The question broke your heart a little. It was such a human question, stripped of all her arrogance and armor.

You looked at her—at the sharp elegance of her jawline, the high cheekbones, the intelligence burning in her eyes even now. "What do you mean," you said, your voice firm. "You are pretty. You're gorgeous. That guy… your boyfriend… he must be dumb to cheat on someone like you."

You said it with total conviction. Because it was true.

Xinyu’s breath hitched—a tiny, sharp intake of air. Her eyes widened slightly, and a faint blush dusted her cheeks. She hadn't expected such a direct, unguarded response. She chuckled, a low, rich sound that vibrated against your shoulder.

"You're sweet," she whispered. "Too sweet."

She didn't move away. If anything, she pressed closer. Her hand, which had been resting on the back of the couch, slid down. Her fingers traced the line of your shoulder blade, slow and deliberate. It was a teasing touch. A testing touch.

You felt a jolt of electricity run through you. This was wrong. Sohyun was right there. Sohyun, the girl you had been obsessed with for years, the girl who was currently sitting three feet away, watching her best friend feel you up.

You risked a glance at Sohyun.

She was staring straight ahead at the TV screen, but she wasn't watching it. Her hand was gripping her soda can so hard her knuckles were white. She looked… furious. But underneath the fury, you saw something else. She looked neglected.

She looked at the way Xinyu was leaning into you, the way your shoulders were touching, the way Xinyu was looking at you with those hungry, appreciative eyes. Sohyun, who was used to being the center of attention, the one in control, was suddenly on the outside looking in.

And you saw it—the curiosity. The strange, dangerous spark in her eyes. She wasn't just angry that Xinyu was invading her space. She was interested. She was watching to see what you would do. She was watching to see if you would push Xinyu away, or if you would lean into it.

Xinyu’s fingers moved higher, brushing the back of your neck. She leaned in closer, her lips grazing the shell of your ear.

"I think you're lying," she whispered, her voice hot and teasing. "I think you've had a crush on me for months. Just like you have on Sohyun."

The air left the room. Your heart stopped.

Xinyu pulled back just enough to look you in the eye, a smirk playing on her lips. She knew. Of course she knew. She saw everything. She saw the way you looked at both of them on campus, the way you lingered near their table in the library.

"Am I wrong?" she challenged softly.

You couldn't speak. You couldn't breathe. You were trapped between the two most important women in your world, and the ground was shifting beneath your feet.

From your other side, Sohyun shifted. She turned on the couch, pulling one leg up underneath her. She looked at Xinyu, then at you. The anger was gone, replaced by a cool, calculated gaze.

"He's not lying," Sohyun said, her voice smooth and low. "He's nice. He wouldn't lie."

Xinyu laughed, the sound vibrating through your arm. "Nice. There's that word again." She looked at Sohyun, a challenge in her eyes. "Maybe nice isn't what I need right now, Sohyun. Maybe I need someone who looks at me like I'm the only person in the room. Like he looks at you."

Sohyun’s eyes darkened. She leaned forward, invading your space from the other side. Her hand came out, resting on your knee. It was a possessive gesture. A warning.

"He looks at you because you're throwing yourself at him," Sohyun countered, her voice sharp. "He's a guy, Xinyu. We're tactile creatures. Don't read too much into it."

"Am I throwing myself at him?" Xinyu mused, her fingers tracing the hem of your collar. "Or am I just appreciating what's right in front of me? Something you've been taking for granted for weeks, I might add."

The tension in the room was no longer just awkward. It was thick. It was sexual. It was a charged, volatile current flowing between the three of you. You felt like a piece of meat being claimed by two predators, but God help you, you didn't want to leave.

Sohyun’s hand tightened on your knee. She looked at Xinyu, and for a second, you saw something pass between them. An understanding. A dare.

"You're playing a dangerous game, Xinyu," Sohyun said quietly.

"I'm just getting started," Xinyu replied.

She turned back to you, her eyes dropping to your lips. "So, tell me the truth. If I kissed you right now… what would you do?"

Your pulse hammered in your throat. You looked at Sohyun, terrified, expecting her to explode. But she didn't. She just watched, her own lips parting slightly, her breathing hitching in a way that had nothing to do with hangover nausea.

She was waiting. She was waiting to see if you would betray her. Or maybe… maybe she was waiting to see if you would handle this.

You swallowed hard, your voice barely a whisper. "I… I wouldn't stop you."

Xinyu’s smile widened, triumphant and hungry. She leaned in, slow and deliberate, giving you every chance to pull away. You could feel Sohyun’s gaze burning a hole in the side of your face, her hand a heavy weight on your leg.

"Good answer," Xinyu breathed.

And then, the door buzzer rang.

The sound was so jarring, so loud in the heavy silence, that you all jumped. Xinyu pulled back, the spell broken. Sohyun snatched her hand back from your knee as if she’d been burned.

"What the hell is that?" Sohyun snapped, her voice regaining its usual bite.

"Probably… the delivery guy forgot something?" you guessed, your heart still racing a mile a minute.

You stood up, your legs shaky. "I'll get it."

As you walked to the door, you could feel the eyes of both women on your back. The air behind you was electric, charged with unanswered questions and dangerous possibilities. You grabbed the handle, taking a deep breath to compose yourself before opening the door.

Whatever was happening between the three of you, it was far from over. And as you stepped into the hallway to deal with the mundane reality of a missing soda, you knew that your life had just shifted onto a trajectory you never could have predicted. The line between friend, crush, and something else entirely had been blurred. And Sohyun, for the first time, wasn't the only one holding the eraser.

The buzz from the intercom wasn't the delivery driver. It was the sound of your life imploding.

You pressed the button, the static crackling through the speaker. "Hello?"

"Open the fucking door," a voice snarled, distorted by the cheap speaker but unmistakable. It was Han.

You froze. Your stomach, already queasy from the rich food and the lingering hangover tension, dropped into your shoes. Han. Xinyu’s ex. The guy who had been cheating on her with the rival from Seoul Uni. He was the last person on earth who should be here.

"Just a second," you stammered, your finger hovering over the 'deny' button. But before you could press it, the heavy thud of a fist pounding against the wood from the hallway vibrated through the floor. He was already in the building. Someone must have let him in, or he’d tailgated a resident.

You opened the door.

Han looked worse than he sounded. His usually polished, business-casual appearance was disheveled—his shirt untucked, his hair a mess, and his eyes bloodshot and wild. He smelled like cheap whiskey and stale cigarettes. He shoved past you the moment the latch clicked, his shoulder slamming into your chest with enough force to knock you back a step.

"Where is she?" Han shouted, his voice bouncing off the walls of your small living room. "Xinyu! Get the fuck out here!"

The atmosphere in the room, previously charged with a thick, sexual anticipation, curdled instantly into something sharp and violent. Sohyun was on her feet in a heartbeat, moving with a predatory grace that made the hair on your arms stand up. Xinyu stood up more slowly, her face draining of color, then flushing a dark, angry red.

"What the hell are you doing here?" Xinyu demanded, her voice shaking not with fear, but with rage. "You have some nerve showing your face after—"

"Shut up!" Han screamed, cutting her off. He paced the center of the room, gesturing wildly. "I saw you. I saw you leaving the club with him. With this guy?" He pointed a trembling finger at you, his lip curling in disgust. "This nobody freshman? You left me to go fuck this loser?"

He was spiraling. You could see it in the way his eyes darted around the room, looking for something to break. He wasn't here to talk. He was here to lash out, to punish Xinyu for injuring his ego.

"Get out, Han," Sohyun said, stepping between Han and Xinyu. Her voice was ice cold, but you saw the way her hands were clenched into fists at her sides. "You’re drunk. You’re making a scene."

"I'm making a scene?" Han laughed, a high, ugly sound. "My girlfriend runs off in the middle of the night to fuck a kid, and I'm making a scene?" He lunged forward, grabbing Sohyun’s arm to shove her aside. "Move, bitch. I'm taking Xinyu home."

Sohyun stumbled but recovered instantly, slapping his hand away. "Don't touch me."

"Or what?" Han turned his fury on her. He was bigger than both of them, a solid wall of muscle and rage. "You think you're tough? You think you're better than me?"

He shoved Sohyun again, harder this time. She fell back onto the couch, breathless.

"Hey!" you shouted, stepping forward. You didn't think. You just moved. "Don't touch her."

Han spun around, his eyes locking onto yours. They were filled with a terrifying, jealous insanity. "Stay out of this, you little punk. This doesn't concern you."

"She told you to leave," you said, surprised by the steadiness of your own voice. "You need to go."

Han’s face twisted. He lunged at you.

It happened fast. Han was a football player back in high school, and he moved with the momentum of a freight train. He tackled you, driving you backward into the hallway wall. The air left your lungs in a rush as your back slammed against the drywall. Pictures rattled on the hooks.

"You think you can take my girl?" Han spat, grabbing you by the collar of your shirt. He slammed you against the wall again, your head cracking against the plaster. Stars exploded in your vision. "I'll fucking kill you."

"Get off him!" Xinyu screamed.

You could hear Sohyun shouting too, but your focus was narrowed down to the face in front of you. Han’s fist was drawn back, ready to connect with your jaw. You brought your arms up to block your face, bracing for the impact.

But the blow never came.

Sohyun threw herself at Han’s back, wrapping her arms around his neck in a chokehold, trying to drag him off you. "Get off him! Han, stop it!"

Han roared, bucking his hips violently. He shook Sohyun off like she was a fly. She stumbled backward, crashing into the side table and sending a lamp crashing to the floor.

"Sohyun!" you cried out.

That moment of distraction was all Han needed. He grabbed a handful of your hair, twisting your head to the side, and slammed his fist into your ribs.

Pain exploded, sharp and blinding. You gasped, your knees buckling. You slid down the wall, clutching your side.

"Stop it! Please stop!" Xinyu was crying now, tears streaming down her face. She rushed forward, grabbing Han’s arm and trying to pull him away from you. "Han, you're hurting him! Stop!"

He rounded on her, his eyes wild. He didn't see Xinyu. He saw a target. He saw the reason he was humiliated.

"You fucking slut," he hissed.

He backhanded her.

The sound was wet and heavy. Xinyu’s head snapped to the side, her body whipping around with the force of the blow. She crumpled to the floor, silent, her hand coming up to her swelling cheek.

The room went dead silent.

For a second, you couldn't process what you were seeing. Then, the red haze descended. It didn't matter that he was bigger. It didn't matter that he could break you in half. He had hit her.

You surged up from the floor, ignoring the screaming protest from your ribs. You tackled Han around the waist, driving him into the kitchenette counter. The impact knocked the breath out of him, and you heard the wind rush out of his lungs.

You weren't a fighter. You had no technique. You just threw yourself at him, fueled by adrenaline and pure, unfiltered rage. You grabbed his shoulders, shoving him back, but he recovered quickly. He shoved you hard, sending you staggering backward into the sharp corner of the open dishwasher door. It caught you right in the thigh, tearing a line of fire through your muscle, but you barely felt it.

Han came at you again, his hands going for your throat. You ducked, dodging a clumsy right hook, and tackled him again. This time, you both went down. You hit the floor hard, Han on top of you, his hands closing around your throat.

His grip was iron-tight. You clawed at his wrists, gasping for air, your vision starting to spot. He was heavy, crushing the breath out of you. You bucked your hips, trying to dislodge him, but he was too heavy.

You were going to pass out. You were going to die here, on your living room floor, while the two girls you loved watched.

Then, something heavy collided with Han’s side.

So hyun had launched herself at him again, but this time she wasn't trying to pull him off. She was attacking him. She was clawing at his face, her fingernails raking deep gouges down his cheek.

"Get off him!" she screamed, her voice raw.

Han howled in pain, letting go of your throat to bat her away. You sucked in a ragged, desperate breath, choking on the air. You saw Han raising his hand to hit Sohyun, his face contorted in fury.

"Hey!"

This shout wasn't from a woman.

It was Xinyu.

She was standing by the kitchen counter, clutching one of your cast-iron skillets in both hands. Her face was pale, her lip bleeding, but her eyes were blazing with a cold, terrifying resolve.

"Get the fuck out of my apartment," Xinyu said, her voice low and trembling. "Or I swear to god, I will split your skull open."

Han looked at her, then at the skillet. He hesitated, the adrenaline fading just enough for logic to seep back in. He touched the scratches on his cheek, his fingers coming away bloody. He looked at the three of you—Sohyun on the floor, her chest heaving; you coughing and wheezing on the ground; Xinyu standing over him like an avenging angel with a weapon.

"Fucking psychos," Han spat, wiping his bloody face on his sleeve. He scrambled to his feet, backing toward the door. "You're all crazy. Every single one of you."

He kicked the doorframe on his way out, sending a final shower of dust raining down, and then he was gone. The heavy slam of the front door echoed like a gunshot.

The silence that followed was heavy, suffocating. You lay on the floor, staring up at the ceiling, your chest burning. You could hear Sohyun crying softly, a sound you had never heard her make before. It was broken, terrified.

You sat up slowly, your body protesting every movement. Your ribs throbbed with every breath, a sharp, hot pain. Your head was swimming. You looked over at Sohyun.

She was sitting against the wall, her knees pulled up to her chest, rocking back and forth. She was looking at her hands, shaking violently. She looked… small.

"Sohyun?" you rasped. You started to crawl toward her, needing to be near her, needing to know she was okay.

She flinched when you reached out to touch her arm. She flinched like she was scared of you.

You froze. The rejection hit you harder than Han's fist. "Sohyun… it's me. It's over."

She looked up then, and the look in her eyes shattered you. It wasn't just fear. It was horror. She was looking at your bruises, the scrapes on your knuckles, the way you were wheezing. She was looking at the damage she had been powerless to prevent.

"I… I couldn't…" she whispered, tears streaming down her face. "I tried to stop him. I tried. But I couldn't. I was too weak."

"Sohyun, no," you said, reaching for her again. This time she let you pull her into your arms. She buried her face in your neck, and you could feel her hot tears soaking into your shirt. "You distracted him. You saved me. If you hadn't jumped on him when you did…"

"I was useless," she sobbed. "He could have killed you. And I just… I just watched."

"Hey."

Xinyu’s voice cut through Sohyun’s breakdown. It was steady, firm.

Xinyu knelt beside you two. She dropped the skillet on the floor with a heavy clang and reached out, gently taking Sohyun’s face in her hands.

"Look at me," Xinyu commanded.

Sohyun looked up, her eyes red and swollen.

"You're not weak," Xinyu said, her voice fierce. "You're the strongest person I know. But you were scared. That's allowed. We were all scared."

Xinyu turned her attention to you. Her eyes scanned your face, lingering on the bruise forming on your jaw and the scrapes on your neck. Her expression softened, the hard edge melting away into a devastating tenderness.

"You," she whispered. She touched your cheek, her fingers light as a feather. "You idiot. You stood up to him."

"He was going to hurt you," you said simply.

Xinyu let out a shaky breath. She leaned forward and pressed her forehead against yours. For a moment, you just breathed together, the shared adrenaline fading into something else.

"Let me see," she said, pulling back to inspect you. "Lift your arms."

You obliged, wincing as she probed your ribs. Her touch was clinical but careful.

"Just bruised, I think," she murmured. "Nothing feels broken." Her hands moved down to your leg, where you had slammed into the dishwasher. You were bleeding there, a thin line of blood welling up through the tear in your pants. "You're going to need stitches for this one."

"I'll be fine," you said. "I'm just glad he's gone."

Xinyu didn't smile. She stood up abruptly. " Bathroom. Now. We need to clean this up."

She helped you stand, supporting your weight as you hobbled toward the bathroom. Sohyun remained on the floor, watching you go. She hadn't moved. She hadn't stopped shaking.

In the bathroom, Xinyu sat you down on the edge of the tub and rummaged through your cabinet. She found the first aid kit—a small plastic box with bandaids and antiseptic.

"This is going to sting," she warned, tearing open an alcohol wipe.

She cleaned the cut on your leg with efficient movements. Her hands were steady, but you could see the tremor in her shoulders. She was still coming down from the adrenaline.

"You were amazing," you said softly, watching her face. "With the skillet. You saved us."

"I should have done it sooner," she said, not looking at you. "I shouldn't have let it get that far."

"It's not your fault he's crazy."

Xinyu finished bandaging your leg and moved to your face. She cleaned the scrape on your cheek, her thumb brushing gently over your jawbone. Her touch lingered, tracing the line of your bone.

"You were so brave," she whispered. She looked into your eyes, and the raw admiration there made your chest tight. "I've never seen anything like that. No one has ever… no one has ever fought for me like that."

She leaned in closer. Her body was pressed against your legs, her warmth seeping into you. You could smell her perfume, mixed with the metallic tang of fear and the lingering scent of your apartment.

"Xinyu…" you started.

She cut you off by pressing her lips to yours.

It wasn't like the kiss with Sohyun. It wasn't slow or exploring. It was desperate. It was a thank you and an apology and a confession all at once. Her lips were soft and demanding, tasting slightly of salt from her tears. She kissed you like she was trying to memorize the shape of your mouth, like she needed to anchor herself to you.

You melted into it, ignoring the pain in your ribs. Your hand came up to cup the back of her neck, tangling in her ponytail. She sighed against your mouth, a low, vibrating sound that went straight to your core.

She pulled back slightly, her forehead resting against yours again. Her eyes were wet, but they were burning with an intensity that made your breath hitch.

"I was so scared," she whispered, her voice cracking. "I was so scared he was going to hurt you. And I felt… I felt so safe when you stepped in front of me. Like nothing in the world could touch me."

She grabbed your hand, guiding it. She placed your palm flat against her chest, right over her heart. You could feel it hammering against her ribs, a frantic, bird-like rhythm.

"Feel that?" she asked. "That's what you do to me."

You looked at her, really looked at her. The swelling bruise on her cheek where Han had hit her made your blood boil all over again, but it also made you want to wrap her up and hide her from the world.

"You're safe now," you said. "I won't let him near you again."

Xinyu let out a shaky laugh. She kissed you again, quick and hard. Then she grabbed your hand and pulled it downward.

She guided your hand between her thighs, pressing your palm against the heat radiating through her jeans. The air in the bathroom instantly grew thick, heavy with a sudden, electric tension.

"Do you feel that?" she whispered, her eyes locking onto yours. "I'm so wet right now. It's sick, isn't it? Adrenaline makes me crazy."

You swallowed hard, your fingers twitching against the denim. You could feel the heat of her, the undeniable pressure of her body responding to the danger, to the violence, to you. It was a primal, raw reaction.

"Xinyu," you breathed. "Sohyun is outside."

"I know," Xinyu said, not moving your hand. If anything, she pressed it tighter against herself. "Let her watch."

You looked past Xinyu, toward the open bathroom door.

Sohyun was standing there.

She had gotten up from the floor. She was leaning against the doorframe, her arms wrapped around herself. She looked pale, her eyes wide and fixed on the two of you.

She looked at where your hand was, pressed between Xinyu's legs. She looked at the way Xinyu was leaning into you, the possessive, hungry way she was holding your gaze.

Sohyun’s reaction wasn't what you expected. She didn't look angry. She didn't look disgusted.

She looked terrified.

She looked like she was realizing that while she had been paralyzed by fear, Xinyu had been taking everything she wanted. While Sohyun was frozen, Xinyu had been staking her claim.

"Are you… are you okay?" Sohyun asked, her voice barely a whisper. She was talking to you, but her eyes were glued to your hand on Xinyu.

You gently pulled your hand away from Xinyu, though it pained you to do so. You turned fully toward Sohyun.

"I'm fine," you said, giving her a reassuring smile. You winced as the motion pulled at your bruised ribs. "Nothing permanent. I'll live."

Sohyun stared at you. She looked at the bruises blooming on your skin, the bandage on your leg, the way your shirt was torn at the collar. And she saw the way Xinyu was touching you, the way she had just kissed you.

She saw that she might be losing you.

It was written all over her face—a dawning, horrific realization. She had taken you for granted. She had used your devotion, your obsession, as a safety net, assuming you would always be there waiting in the wings. But now, standing in the wreckage of your apartment, seeing you through Xinyu's eyes, she saw what she had almost let slip through her fingers.

She saw that you weren't just a quiet freshman. You were the person who had almost died protecting her best friend. You were the person who made Xinyu feel safe.

Xinyu turned to look at Sohyun. There was no malice in her expression, just a quiet, possessive triumph. She wrapped her arm around your waist, resting her head on your uninjured shoulder.

"He's amazing, isn't he?" Xinyu said softly.

Sohyun didn't answer. She just took a step into the room. Then another. She walked until she was standing right in front of you. She reached out, her hand hovering in the air for a moment before she gently touched the bruise on your jaw.

Her fingers were cold, trembling.

"I was so scared," Sohyun whispered, echoing Xinyu’s words but with an entirely different weight. "I was so scared that he was going to kill you. That I was going to watch you die."

She looked up at you, her eyes swimming with tears. "I've never been that scared in my life. I felt… helpless. And I hate feeling helpless."

She leaned in, her forehead resting against yours, just inches from where Xinyu was still resting. For a moment, the three of you were tangled together, a web of trauma and adrenaline and shifting loyalties.

"You're not going to lose me," you whispered, looking at Sohyun, then at Xinyu. "I'm right here."

Sohyun pulled back slightly. She looked at Xinyu, a silent plea passing between them. Xinyu sighed, but she loosened her grip on you, shifting slightly to the side to make room.

Sohyun stepped into that space. She didn't kiss you. Instead, she wrapped her arms around your neck and buried her face in your shoulder, holding you so tight it hurt your ribs, but you didn't care. You held her back, one hand on her waist, the other reaching out blindly until you found Xinyu’s hand. You grabbed it, squeezing tight.

Xinyu squeezed back.

The three of you stood there in the tiny bathroom, the smell of antiseptic and fear hanging in the air, but something else was blooming underneath it. Something dangerous and new.

"We need to call the police," Xinyu said eventually, her voice muffled against your shoulder. "We can't let him get away with this."

"Not tonight," Sohyun said, her voice muffled against your other shoulder. "I just… I just want to stay here. I just want to be with you."

You felt a tremor run through both of them. You closed your eyes, leaning your head back against the wall, exhausted and hurting, but feeling more alive than you ever had in your life. The lines were blurred. The rules had changed.

And you knew, with a certainty that settled deep in your bones, that nothing would ever be the same again.

The hot water beat against your back, a stinging cascade that did little to wash away the grime of the evening but succeeded admirably in making you aware of every single bruise blooming across your skin. You leaned your forehead against the cool tile of the shower wall, hissing as the spray hit the raw scrape on your thigh. The adrenaline had finally faded, leaving behind a hollow, aching exhaustion. Your knuckles were swollen, the skin split, and your ribs felt like they’d been put through a trash compactor.

You turned off the water and stepped out, dripping onto the bathmat. The mirror was fogged up, but you didn't need to see your reflection to know you looked like hell. You dried off roughly, the friction of the towel sending sharp little sparks of pain through your nervous system. It was grounding. You were alive. Han was gone. That was the metric that mattered now.

When you walked back into the living room, the silence was heavy, but it wasn't the oppressive silence of before. It was fragile. Xinyu was sitting on the edge of your couch, her long legs crossed, staring at her hands. Sohyun was by the window, looking out at the dark street, her silhouette stiff and unmoving. They looked like statues in a museum dedicated to ruined evenings.

Xinyu looked up first. Her eyes, usually so sharp and calculating, were rimmed with red. She didn't smile, but the tension in her shoulders dropped a fraction when she saw you.

"Hey," she said, her voice raspy.

"Hey," you replied, wincing as you adjusted your waistband. "You two okay?"

"We're alive," Sohyun said, not turning around. Her voice was distant, brittle. "Thanks to you."

There was a heavy pause. You stood there, feeling awkward and massive in your small apartment, looming over them like a damaged guard dog.

"I don't want to go back to the dorms tonight," Xinyu said suddenly. She looked up at you, her gaze direct and pleading. "I can't… I can't be alone right now. And I don't want to be around other people. Just here."

"Me neither," Sohyun added, turning from the window. Her face was pale, but her eyes were burning with an intensity that made your stomach flip. "I’m staying."

You looked between them. The logical part of your brain, the part that wasn't currently swimming in endorphins and pain, screamed that this was a terrible idea. Three people in a tiny one-room apartment? After the night you’d just had? It was a recipe for disaster.

But looking at them—seeing the fear still lingering in the lines of their bodies, the way they held themselves like they expected the door to burst open again—you couldn't say no. You were just a freshman. You were the guy who fixed things, who carried the boxes, who took the hits. You weren't the guy who told Xinyu or Sohyun 'no'.

"Okay," you said, rubbing the back of your neck. "You can take the bed. I'll crash out here on the couch."

Sohyun opened her mouth, a protest forming on her lips. She looked at the narrow, lumpy couch, then at your bruised ribs, her brow furrowing. "You're hurt. You shouldn't be on that spring-loaded piece of shit. We can all—"

"It's fine," you cut her off gently. You couldn't handle sharing a bed with both of them tonight. Not after the bathroom. Not after seeing the look in Sohyun’s eyes when she watched Xinyu kiss you. The air was too thick with unspoken things. "I need the space to stretch out anyway. Trust me, I’ll sleep better here."

Sohyun hesitated, her jaw working silently. She wanted to push, but she didn't. She just nodded, looking at the floor. "Okay. If you say so."

They gathered their things—minimal, since they’d arrived with nothing but the clothes on their backs—and disappeared into your bedroom. You heard the door click shut, and you let out a breath you felt like you’d been holding for hours.

You collapsed onto the couch. The springs groaned under your weight, digging into your side exactly where Han had punched you. You stared up at the ceiling, counting the water stains. It was uncomfortable, but you were right. You needed this distance. You needed to let your heart rate slow down, to let the images of Han’s face, of Sohyun’s terror, of Xinyu swinging that skillet, fade into the background.

You closed your eyes, drifting in that grey space between wakefulness and sleep, where the pain was just a dull hum.

rustle of fabric. A scent—jasmine and stale rain.

You were pulled from the fog by a dip in the cushions beside your legs. Your eyes snapped open, adjusting to the dark room. The streetlights outside cast long, faint shadows across the floor.

"Xinyu?" you whispered, sitting up slightly.

She was there, kneeling on the floor beside the couch. She had changed out of her torn clothes and was wearing one of your oversized t-shirts, the fabric swallowing her petite frame. Her hair was loose, a dark curtain around her face.

"Shh," she whispered, placing a hand on your knee. Her touch was hot, electric. "Go back to sleep."

"What are you doing out here?" you asked, your voice rough. "Sohyun is—"

"Asleep," Xinyu cut you off, crawling up onto the couch. She moved with a slow, deliberate grace, straddling your legs. "She's out cold. She cried herself to sleep in five minutes flat."

She leaned forward, her weight settling on your thighs. You could feel the heat radiating from her body, soaking through the thin blanket you'd pulled over yourself. She was so close you could see the faint bruise on her cheekbone, a dark purple mark against her pale skin.

"I couldn't sleep," she murmured, her voice dropping an octave, turning into something husky and dangerous. "I kept hearing him. I kept feeling him." She took your hand and guided it to her chest, right over her heart. It was hammering, a frantic rhythm against your palm. "But then I thought about you. About what you did."

"Xinyu, we shouldn't," you said, your breath hitching. You glanced frantically at the closed bedroom door. "Sohyun is right there. If she hears—"

"She won't," Xinyu said, her eyes locking onto yours. They were dark, dilated with a hunger that terrified you. "I need this. I need to know I'm alive. I need to know you're real."

She leaned down and kissed you.

It wasn't a gentle kiss. It was a collision. Her lips crashed against yours, tasting of mint and desperation. You tried to pull back, your brain screaming about Sohyyun, about the door, about the sheer insanity of the situation, but your body betrayed you. Your hands found her waist, fingers digging into the soft skin above her hipbones.

"Xinyu, wait," you gasped against her mouth. "She wouldn't… she wouldn't want this."

She pulled back just enough to look you in the eye, her lips swollen and wet. "She doesn't have to know," she whispered, the words sending a jolt of guilty arousal straight to your groin. "Don't worry about her. Worry about me. Worry about us."

She captured your lips again, and this time, you melted. The resistance in your chest shattered, replaced by a raw, overwhelming need. You were hurt, you were exhausted, but she was here, and she was choosing you. Her tongue pushed into your mouth, dominating, exploring, claiming you.

Xinyu sat up, breaking the kiss but keeping her body pressed flush against yours. She grabbed the hem of your t-shirt she was wearing and pulled it over her head in one fluid motion.

The air left your lungs. She was naked beneath it. The moonlight caught the curve of her breasts, the dip of her waist, the flare of her hips. She was stunning, a work of art carved from ivory and shadow. Her skin was flawless, save for the fading marks of the day's violence.

She reached down, her fingers nimble as she undid the drawstring of your sweatpants. You lifted your hips to help her, unable to look away from her face. She was watching you with a predatory intensity, her eyes raking over your bruised chest like she was memorizing the map of your pain.

She tugged your pants and boxers down just enough to free your cock. It sprang free, hard and throbbing in the cool air.

"Fuck," she breathed, wrapping her long fingers around the shaft. "Look at you. You're so fucking hard for me."

She stroked you slowly, her grip firm and sure. Her thumb brushed over the sensitive head, spreading the bead of pre-cum that had gathered there. The sensation was electric, shooting sparks up your spine. You groaned, your head falling back against the armrest.

"Xinyu, please," you rasped. You didn't even know what you were begging for. For her to stop? For her to never stop?

"I've wanted this for so long," she admitted, her voice a sultry murmur. "Watching you watch her. It drove me crazy. But tonight… tonight you're mine."

She lowered her head, her dark hair cascading down like a curtain to create a private world between you and the cushions of the couch. You felt her breath, hot and damp, against the head of your cock before her tongue swiped out.

She licked you from base to tip, a long, slow drag that had your toes curling. She took her time, exploring every inch, tracing the thick veins that bulged along the shaft. She wasn't rushing. She was savoring it.

Then, without warning, she took you into her mouth.

The heat was incredible. Her mouth was wet and tight, her tongue swirling around the underside of your shaft as she bobbed her head. You gasped, your hands flying to her hair, tangling in the silky strands. She took you deep, deeper than you expected, her throat relaxing to accommodate your size.

You watched her, fascinated and horrified by the sight. Her cheeks were hollowed out, her lips stretched wide around your girth. She looked beautiful like this—vulgar and elegant all at once. She moaned around your cock, the vibration humming through your pelvis, making your hips buck involuntarily.

"Jesus, Xinyu," you hissed. "That feels… fuck."

She pulled back with a wet pop, saliva glistening on her chin and connecting her lips to your tip in a thin, broken string. She looked up at you, her eyes glassy and wild.

"You like that?" she asked, stroking you with her hand, slick with her spit. "You like me choking on your big fucking dick?"

"Yes," you groaned, unable to lie. "It's so good."

"Good," she said, a dark smirk playing on her lips. "Because I'm not done."

She dove back down, sucking harder this time, her head bobbing with a frantic rhythm. She was messy, letting the spit dribble down your shaft, using it to lubricate her hand as she twisted it in tandem with her mouth. The sounds were obscene—slurping, gagging, wet sucking noises that filled the quiet apartment.

You could feel the pressure building in your balls, a tight, heavy coil. You were getting close, too fast. The adrenaline, the danger, the sheer taboo nature of what was happening—it was all too much.

"Wait," you gasped, gently tugging on her hair. "I'm gonna… if you keep doing that…"

She pulled off, panting, her chest heaving. "Not yet. I want you to come inside me."

She moved up your body, straddling your waist. Your cock slapped against her stomach, leaving a wet smear on her skin. She grabbed your wrists, pinning them to the couch on either side of your head.

"I'm going to fuck you now," she declared, her voice leaving no room for argument. "And you're going to take it."

She reached between her legs, positioning your cock at her entrance. You could feel the heat radiating from her core, could feel how wet she was. She was soaked, her juices coating your tip as she rubbed it against her slit.

"Look at me," she commanded.

You looked up into her eyes. She bit her lower lip, her brow furrowing in concentration as she slowly lowered herself onto you.

The stretch was incredible. She was tight, tighter than you would have imagined, her walls gripping you like a velvet vise. She took you inch by inch, her body shuddering as she adjusted to your size. You watched your cock disappear inside her, her lips parting to swallow you whole.

"Fuck, you're big," she breathed, her head falling back. She bottomed out, her hips resting against yours, completely full.

She stilled for a moment, her inner muscles fluttering around you, pulsing and squeezing. The sensation was almost too much to bear. You groaned, your hands gripping her thighs, feeling the muscle tense beneath your fingers.

"Xinyu," you whispered. "You feel amazing."

"Ready?" she asked, looking down at you with a wicked grin.

"Ride me."

She didn't need to be told twice. She began to move.

She started with a slow, grinding rhythm, rolling her hips in circles. The friction was exquisite, rubbing against every sensitive nerve ending. She bit her lip again, suppressing a moan, her eyes locked onto yours.

"Like this?" she teased, her voice breathy. "You like watching me ride your cock?"

"Yes," you choked out. "God, yes."

She picked up the pace. Her movements became wilder, more erratic. She was riding you in earnest now, slamming her hips down onto yours. The sound of skin slapping against skin echoed in the room—thwack, thwack, thwack—a primal, rhythmic beat.

Her breasts bounced with every thrust, jiggling with the momentum. You reached up, cupping them, feeling their weight in your hands. Her nipples were hard points against your palms. She leaned into your touch, arching her back, thrusting her chest out.

"Harder," she demanded, her voice rising in pitch. "Touch me harder."

You sat up as much as you could, wrapping one arm around her waist to pull her closer, burying your face in her neck. You tasted the salt on her skin, smelled the scent of her arousal mixed with the lingering smell of your apartment. You bit down on her shoulder, leaving a mark.

She cried out, her hips bucking wildly. "Yes! Fucking mark me. I'm yours tonight."

The dirty talk was pouring out of her, a stream of filth that seemed to shock you as much as it turned you on. She was usually so composed, so controlled. Seeing her like this—wild, uninhibited, sweating and cursing as she fucked you on a ratty couch—was a revelation.

"You're so fucking tight," you groaned into her ear. "You take my cock so well."

"I love it," she panted. "I love how you stretch me. You fill me up so fucking good."

She shifted her angle, and suddenly she was hitting that spot inside her, the one that made her toes curl. She let out a loud, uninhibited moan, her head falling back, her black hair sticking to her sweaty face.

"Right there," she gasped. "Don't stop. Don't you dare stop."

You grabbed her hips, guiding her, helping her slam down onto you. You were meeting her thrusts now, arching your hips up to drive deeper into her. The friction was intense, a burning heat that spread from your groin out to your fingertips.

The couch was squeaking loudly beneath you, a rhythmic squeak-squeak-squeak that seemed deafening in the quiet apartment. You glanced nervously at the bedroom door, terrified that Sohyun would wake up and walk in.

"She wouldn't know," Xinyu whispered, catching your gaze. She saw the fear in your eyes and smirked, a look of pure, unadulterated lust. "Let her hear. Let her know what she's missing."

She tightened her walls around you, squeezing hard. The sensation ripped a groan from your throat.

"I'm getting close," you warned. "Xinyu, I can't hold it."

"Me too," she panted. "Come with me. Fill me up."

She reached down between her legs, her fingers finding her clit. She rubbed it frantically, her movements desperate and clumsy. The visual was almost enough to send you over the edge right there—this stunning, high-status debater, sweat-soaked and naked, riding your cock like her life depended on it.

"Come for me," you commanded, your voice rough.

She let out a scream, muffled by her biting down on her own lip. Her whole body seized up, her back arching into a perfect bow. You felt her pussy spasm around you, pulsing rhythmically, milking your cock.

That was it.

The dam broke. Your hips jerked upward, driving yourself deep inside her one last time. You exploded, your vision whiting out as you emptied yourself into her. You could feel the spurts of cum painting her insides, hot and thick. The release was intense, shattering, leaving you gasping for air.

Xinyu collapsed against you, her body limp and trembling. You held her close, your chests heaving together, your hearts racing in sync. The room smelled of sex—sweat, cum, and the metallic tang of adrenaline.

For a long time, neither of you spoke. You just listened to the sound of your breathing slowing down, returning to normal. The guilt began to creep back in, cold and insidious, but you pushed it away. For now, you just wanted to hold her.

Xinyu stirred, lifting her head to look at you. She was disheveled, her lips swollen, her eyes glassy. She looked beautiful.

"Okay?" you whispered, brushing a strand of hair away from her face.

She smiled, a genuine, soft smile that reached her eyes. "Yeah. I'm okay."

She leaned in and kissed you, a soft, lingering kiss that was miles away from the desperate mashing of lips from earlier.

"We should get cleaned up," she murmured against your lips.

"Yeah," you agreed. "Before Sohyun wakes up."

Xinyu pulled back, a mischievous glint returning to her eyes. "Let her wonder," she said, climbing off your lap.

She stood up, your cum dripping down her inner thigh, gleaming in the moonlight. She didn't even try to hide it. She looked down at you, naked and vulnerable on the couch, and winked.

"Thanks for the rescue, hero," she whispered, grabbing her t-shirt from the floor.

She pulled it on, covering her body, but the image of her standing there, marked by you, was burned into your brain. As she turned and slipped silently back toward the bedroom, you knew that everything had changed.

“Is that what you want?” You ask.

“It’s what we need,” she says after a while. “We— we can’t be apart, but when we’re together, it’s like we’re suffocating each other. Like we’re walking on threads.”

“We didn’t even fight last night”

“We sat on my couch for 6 hours. We barely talked, barely looked at each other.”

Your voice goes thin. “I don’t want to lose you Hanni.”

“But we’re losing ourselves. I— I don’t even know how to be me anymore.”

You try to push whatever it is you need to out, to beg, to apologize, to tell her you love her. But the line stays silent.

“I don’t want to lose you either.” She says.

“Then why?”

“I think that’s what we have to figure out.”

Your bed feels like thorns.

“It’s late. I’ll call you. When I do. Figure it out,” she says when the silence feels too close.

“Han—,” but the line is already dead and the tears have already started.

You look at the phone, now just a phone and not a 7 inch box burning a hole into your heart. It’s 2:52 in the morning, and you want to call her back. But you don’t. Instead, you do what you always do. Lay there.

And the blackness is painful but familiar.

No, not blackness, you realize. Because your brain is doing that thing it does. In the back of your mind, you can almost see it. A little timer, dropping in ticks like acid burning through a beaker.

You’ve been to the doctor about it. They say it’s just a psychological response, something your mind does when your stressed, or excited, or anxious; when you’re waiting for something. It’s something your brain does to give yourself some sense of control, to not have to wait in agony. They say it’s not accurate— but it is. Every single time.

I’ll call you. When I do. Figure it out.

2 weeks, 3 days, 7 hours, and 23 minutes.

That’s when she’ll call.

A near 3 weeks. You’ve not gone 48 hours without talking to her since, well, you’ve met her.

You don’t sleep tonight

---

You didn’t even check who was calling when you answered. It was 11:11. She always called at 11:11.

“Morning,” Hanni said.

“What happened to not calling? I thought we called too much,” you teased.

“You don’t seem that mad, you’re smiling!”

“How would you know?”

“I can hear it.”

“You can hear me smiling?”

“Of course I can. I missed your voice.”

“I called you last night.”

“That doesn’t count, I was walking home alone.”

“So?”

“So it doesn’t count. What are you doing?”

“Cleaning.”

“Perfect, you’re free!”

“No, I’m cleaning.”

“I want to see you.”

You looked around your living room, littered with hoodies and an empty coffee mug. That TV needed dusting too. Plus that bookshelf was definitely not organized.

“I’ll be there in 10.”

---

It’s 11:11. You can barely close your eyes, lest you see the timer, still mockingly counting down the 2 and a half weeks before Hanni calls.

She hasn’t called you at this time in over 2 months, and today would be no different, you’re on ‘a break’ after all. Your timer confirms it. Hanni won’t call you until it ends. Still, you can’t help but stare at your phone, hoping it buzzes. The Sun shines through your apartment windows, softened by the blinds you’ve kept drawn for the past who knows how long.

You throw your phone down on the couch, standing up and kicking the takeout box you still haven’t thrown out from last night. It’s still on the floor. Because apparently you keep takeout boxes on the floor now.

You keep replaying the conversation, the NOT breakup in your head. Over and over. We’re suffocating each other. We’re losing ourselves.

You love Hanni; Hanni loves you. You know that, you know in your hearts very cells that it’s true. So why? What good would taking a break do? She says she’s losing herself, that she doesn’t know who she is anymore. So why couldn’t you help her with that? You close your eyes.

2 weeks, 2 days, 23 hours, and 4 minutes

She’s gonna call, you remind yourself. She’s gonna call and you’ll talk it out, and you’ll get back togethe—

Your phone rings and you nearly trip on the cardboard boxes you’ve been storing near your door— kept there to remind you to take them out next time you leave. They’ve been there for 2 weeks.

You’re at your phone in a second, answering it before you can process who it is.

“Hanni I—” you start.

“Hanni?” A familiar voice questions.

“Oh, sorry Danielle. I—”

“Yeah, I heard,” your oldest friends voice pierces through the phone. It was a different type of tightness, to hear someone else confirm your situation. If it was just you, if it was unknown, you could pretend, pretend like everything was okay, like you and Hanni were still happy.

“What did she say?” You asked, though you weren’t sure you wanted to know.

Danielle’s cheerful inflection never leaves. Maybe it’s mockery, but probably not. This is Danielle. “She just said she needed— both of you needed time.”

“And? Did she say anything else?”

“No, that’s why I called. But you better not let her go. I didn’t introduce you two for you to break up 2 years later!”

“We won’t,” you say, closing your eyes to the timer. “We won’t. I just wish I could talk to her. But maybe it’s best— to, I don’t know, figure things out.”

“Maybe,” Danielle ponders. “Things have been different lately— between you two I mean.”

“I hadn’t even noticed,” you lament.

“Well, maybe that’s the problem.”

---

Lemon. That’s what it needed.

You squeezed some over the chicken piccata. Something she’d never had. You closed your eyes, welcoming the blackness, welcoming the enhancement it brought to your other senses. The smell, fragrant and rich.

It was 10:30. Hanni’s shift ended at 11. The timing, perfect. Save for the dishes, you’d have to do those later. Still, you gave the counters a wipe down, organized the pans by size, and put them in the sink to soak.

You stepped outside, Tupperware wrapped in a plastic bag. Feeling the chill, you turned back and grabbed the black wool cardigan hanging on your coatrack. Colder than yesterday. The walk to the diner was short if you took the back alleys. It was nice, walking in the dim glow of the streetlights and looking at the graffiti, of the harsh lines of spray paint coalescing into beautiful murals.

You passed the old park, the one you and Danielle used to play at with the other kids your age, the park you got the small scar above your eye at, and the park where you and Hanni had your first kiss. 10:42, still time. The diner wasn’t too far now.

Hanni always described the diner as shitty. It’s décor corny and outdated, with the checkered floors, bright red vinyl booths and tables that seemed to be perpetually sticky. You thought that’s what gave it character.

Still, you could tell she loved working there— everyone could. You watched through the window as she delivered a plate to an elderly couple, smile full and bright. She said something to them, and the old man laughed so hard he almost spat his sprite. You imagined he was drinking sprite, for whatever reason.

You circled around to the back, close enough to the back door, but far enough from the trashcans to wait. It was times like these you would’ve lit a cigarette in the tranquility of the night air. Not anymore, though. Hanni didn’t like it.

Soon enough the backdoor opened. She hadn’t noticed you yet, so you just watched. Her hair tied up in a loose pony tail above her head, thick bangs covering the forehead she thought was too big even when you showered it with kisses. She wore the blue button up shirt and long skirt that fell down below her knees like it wasn’t just a diner uniform, like it was something more, something elegant.

You watched her shiver in the cool air, watched her brush a lose strand of hair back behind her ear.

“Cold?”

Hanni perked up at your voice, running towards you with arms outstretched.

“What are you doing here?” She asked, pulling you in, head sinking into your chest.

“I missed you.”

“You saw me on Sunday.”

“That doesn’t count.”

“Why not?”

“Mmm, I don’t know, just doesn’t,” you teased, wrapping her black cardigan around her shoulders. “Plus, it’s late. I don’t want you walking home alone.”

“I wouldn’t have walked home alone! I was just about to call you.”

“You’d still be alone.”

“No, you would be there.”

“How could I be there on a phone?” You grabbed your hand in yours, fingers interlocking.

Hanni fake sighed, but the smile that could bring you to your knees still lined her face. “You don’t get me, do you?”

You returned the fake sigh. “I get you Hanni.”

She gave your hand a squeeze. “I know you do. What’s that?” She asked, pointing to the plastic bag in your hand.

“I made dinner.”

“What’d you make?”

“It’s a secret,” you said.

Hanni ran off, hand still intertwined in yours dragging you away. “C’mon, I’m hungry.”

---

Your routine hasn’t changed much, really. You still wake up past noon most days, order some shitty take out that costs too much, turn the TV on and sit until the Sun starts to come down.

Except now it comes with an anxious vision in your head.

1 week, 6 days, 14 hours, and 39 minutes

And of course, a gnawing at your chest replacing the spot Hanni - all of her - used to occupy. You’ve barely touched the pasta you ordered. A couple of bites from the place you love. It doesn’t taste much.

You almost don’t get up when the ring of your doorbell interrupts your show— something about regular people? You never bothered remembering the title. Too melancholic anyway.

It’s only when you hear the unmistakable charm of your best friends voice that you answer.

“I know you’re in there! Open up,” Danielle knocks.

It’s only about a 6 second walk from your living room to the front door. It takes you about 45 second to haul yourself off the couch and shuffle your way there.

“Danielle?” You ask, covering your eyes from the light.

“What the vampire?” She asks, looking at the sky. “The Sun’s not even out. It’s sunset. The sky is literally purple.”

“It’s not literally purple,” you say annoyed.

“No, it literally is. Otherwise I wouldn’t have said ‘the sky is literally purple’”.

“What are you doing here?”

“I’m your next door neighbour. I haven’t seen you in like 5 days. It was trash day today, and your bin hasn’t moved an inch. I thought you were dead!” And she smiles, for some reason.

“I forgot.”

And she does that thing she does where she rests her her hands on her hips like a teacher. “You forgot? Before I introduced you to Hanni, what did I tell you?” You just stare at her for a second, incredulous. “What, did you forget that too?”

“No— you said, you said I’d want to marry her.”

“And has that changed?”

“No! Of course not!” You say.

“There’s the passion I know from you. And what, do you think she’s gonna marry some slob?”

“I’m not a slo—”

“You weren’t.” Her expression softens as she looks at you. “You’re not. But look at you! It’s Hanni too. You’ve grown too comfortable.”

“What’s wrong with comfortable?” You ask.

“What’s wrong with comfortable,” she says all highbrow, “is that you forgot to take your trash out! And I think Hanni realized that. That she— both of you, were growing comfortable.”

“It’s not Hanni,” you say in reflex.

“2 weeks ago she didn’t leave her house for a week! She took time off from work just to rot in bed.”

“That’s just self care.”

“That is not self care.”

“Then what is?” You ask.

She smiles. You roll your eyes, but really, you’re glad she came. Of course she would have the answers. She turns heel and runs down your front steps, grabbing something before running back.

“This is self care!” She says, shoving a guitar into your hands.

“Is this my guitar?”

“Yup. I took it, like 2 months ago.”

The weight of it feels familiar in your hands. “I didn’t even notice it was gone.”

“Exactly!” She says.

“Exactly what?”

“Self care!” She yells before dashing off back to her house.

And you’re left there, standing in your doorway confused.

---

“I want a snack,” Hanni said.

“Yeah, but you’re comfy,” you retorted, head lolled on her lap, Hanni’s hand stroking your hair. “What do you want?” You said, caving in. You knew she knew you would cave in anyway.

“Mmm, I don’t know.”

“You never know.”

“Yeah, because you know for me.” Her hand finds your cheek, resting there in a gentle cup.

“I have chips.”

“I don’t want chips. Let’s just go to the convenience store.”

“But you’re comfy.” You said, eyes still closed.

Her other hand found your other cheek, squishing your face together. “C’mon, we skipped date night last week.”

“That’s ‘cause you said you were tired,” you teased, hands finding hers and rubbing the back of her palms as she continued to squish you.

“I want a fruit sando,” she decided. “Doesn’t that sound good right now?”

“Mmm, no. I had one yesterday.”

“When did you have a fruit sando?”

“Yesterday. Me and Danielle went.”

“Danielle? When?”

“I don’t know, it was late.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” She asked.

You opened your eyes, sitting up from her lap. “Are— are you mad I went out with Danielle?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“You look mad.”

“I’m not.”

“She’s my next door neighbour, Hanni. She’s your best friend— she introduced us.”

“I told you, I wasn’t mad. But I would’ve told you if I went out.”

“It was late, and I was going anyway. She was already outside, so I asked her if she wanted to come. I don’t see the problem,” you said defensively.

“There is no problem,” Hanni said, voice raised.

“It sounds like it’s a problem.”

“You’re making it a problem.” She retorted.

“There’s nothing going on between me and Danielle, if that’s your problem.”

“Are you even listening to me? I know there isn’t. I’m just saying, you could’ve told me you went out.”

“Fine. I’ll let you know,” you sighed.

Hanni looked at you, searching. Eyes flicking to each of yours, her own, watery. She plopped back down on the bed. “Just get me the chips.”

---

For some reason, you’re at a pottery studio.

Scratch that, maybe you started to realize what Danielle was saying. Maybe. Because honestly, you haven’t touched the guitar she gave you. Well, gave back to you.

But it was Sunday. Historically, date night for you and Hanni. Recently, though, it was the times you and Hanni would lie on your couch, or her bed and not talk for 6 hours. Still, you missed the way she felt in your arms, or the way her lap more comfortable than any pillow.

There was that word again, comfortable. You close your eyes, feeling the soft wet clay in your hands. Better to not look at the mess you’re making anyway.

1 week, 1 day, 21 hours, and 59 minutes.

A rush of excitement fills you. 1 week! The timer dropped by almost a whole week! You almost topple over your mound of clay still attached to the pottery wheel.

“Remember,” the soft voice of your pottery teacher says. One of phony transcendence. “Mistakes are okay.”

Why did the timer drop? This has never happened before, not when Hanni was on her 3 week vacation to Australia, not when you were waiting for your thesis grade, not even when your father was stuck in the hospital bed, cancer slowly witling him away.

Was she doing okay? Was she getting better, less comfortable, and ready to talk it out and make up? Or did she realize something? Realize she was better off without you? Was she ready to call you back to rip your heart out of your chest?

You slowed your breathing. This doesn’t— shouldn’t change anything. You’ve still committed to giving Hanni space, to respecting her wish to think things over, timer or not.

You look down at your mound of nothing. A plate should be easy, right?

---

“Where should we go?” Hanni asked, clinging to your arm. You always loved her style. Date night, but the yellowish-green top that slanted up to only cover one shoulder and layered translucent skirt that fell to her ankles still screamed chic and coziness with that backdrop of elegance.

“I already made reservations,” you said smugly.

Hanni hits you playfully. “Without asking me? What if I wanted—”

“That new Italian place that just opened?”

Her face went into the cutest pout you’d ever seen. But her smile still etched her face, even brighter if that was possible. “How did you know?”

“I always know,” you said, squeezing the arm wrapped around yours even tighter. “You sent me a Tiktok. Said you liked the plates, as if that’s a reason to go to a restaurant,” you said in response to the pout that still lined her face.

“Mmm, sure. You booked it for me. Not because you want their tiramisu.”

It was your turn to smile. “You caught me,” you said, as you ran playfully away of her.

“Get back here!” She chased.

---

It’s 11pm. Miraculously, you’re already in bed. You still wonder if Hanni is okay. If she’s eating properly, if she’s remembering to plug her phone in every night, if she’s getting home safely. You scour over every memory you’ve ever had with her. Interestingly, it’s the little things you remember, the way she rolled her eyes, the way she would play fight you whenever you took her side of the bed. It’s the simple things that make you long for the call she promised.

5 day, 11 hours, and 38 minutes

So soon now.

But the sound of your phone’s ring jolts your hand to it despite the timer you’ve been staring at, still ticking down the days..

“It’s Danielle, FYI.”

“I know.”

“Oh. Thought you’d think Hanni was calling.” It’s meant to be teasing, but Danielle says it as fact.

It’s already been over a week since your break, and hearing her name, hearing ‘Hanni’ said so casually feels as if you’re drowning in knee deep water.

“Have you seen her? Hanni I mean?”

“I’m seeing her tomorrow.”

“Oh,” you say, because you don’t know what else to. “Tell her—,” you stop yourself. “Or, no. Just, I hope she’s alright.”

“Are you alright?” She asks, with none of the facetiousness she usually carries.

“Yeah,” you blurt. “Yeah, I’m alright?”

“How’s that guitar?”

“Haven’t touched it.”

“You haven’t— what did I say about self care? Hanni won’t want to get bac—”

“I took a pottery class.” Danielle’s laugh doesn’t help you feel better. Maybe it does, though. “It’s just, I think I know what you meant. About self care.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Good,” she says.

---

“You’ll have fun, trust me,” Danielle said, annoyed.

“Who’s going again?”

“Minho’s going. So is Minji—”

“Minji doesn’t like me,” you pointed out.

Danielle’s voice grew even more impatient, said, “you keep saying that, she doesn’t hate you,” then clicked her tongue at you.

“I never said anything about hate. Who else is going?”

“One of our other friends.”

“I know them?”

“They’re nice. You know, cool. Chill,” she reverted to a less annoyed but still annoying voice, probably hoping it would help convince you.

“I think I’ll pass.”

Danielle grabbed you by the collar. “You have to come!”

“And why do I have to come?”

“To meet our friend.”

“Oh because they’re nice? Cool? Chill?” You mocked.

“Just trust me. She’s kind of perfect for you. You’re gonna want to marry her.”

You laugh, but really it’s more of an annoyed exhalation.

“Seriously.” She said, and for some reason, you believed her. Not the part where you thought you’d want to marry a girl you’d just met, but just that Danielle believed it.

“Fine,” you sigh. “I’ll go.”

“What’s the hold up, we’re outside.” Danielle bellowed into your cars speakers. “We’re gonna be late.”

Minho’s voice pierced through your cars sound system. “Just a sec, the new girl forgot to charge her phone.”

Hmm, the car. That’s probably why Danielle wanted you to come so bad, you realized. For your car.

“Who, Hanni?” Danielle smiled.

“Yeah,” Minho replied annoyed.

“Just tell her she can charge it in my car,” you yelled too loud, before ending the line— something about talking on the phone in cars tricked your voice.

“You think I’m gonna want to marry a girl who can’t remember to charge her phone?”

“Just wait until you meet her.” She was confident— smug. You didn’t believe her. But when Minji, Minho and the new Hanni exited the house, Danielle rushed out of the car. “Minji! Hanni! Go sit in the front so you can charge your phone,” she said before turning back to you with a wink.

She climbed in sheepishly, and maybe you were starting to believe Danielle. Her hair tied in a loose ponytail, her impeccably chic fasion, the way she looked so effortlessly cool but approachable at the same time.

“Hey, it’s okay if I use your charger right?” The new Hanni asked.

Safe to say, you wanted to marry her.

---

You’ve been cleaning your place again. Not that it was dirty, just messy; you used to not like messy. You did it in waves, figuring if you organized it all at once you’d let it get messy again. Binge cleaning, you’ve heard it called somewhere. So instead, day by day, you organize. Taking out the boxes here, organizing your pantry there.

Other times you would just sit, closing your eyes and focusing on that damned timer in the back of your head. It didn’t exactly bring you comfort, but it was nice, nice knowing you and Hanni’s story wasn’t over, that there was still a chance.

3 days, 18 hours, and 19 minutes.

You think of her often, constant. Not in an ‘I need to get her back’ kind of way, just about… her. You never resent her for her choice to take a break. But still, the thoughts of her are consuming, so you commit to this self care nonsense Danielle pushed on you. And although your thoughts linger on the thing you know you want most, Hanni, your days are getting better. You no longer stay awake until the ungodly hours of the morning, no longer sleep in until the afternoon on the days you don’t work.

And today, you decide to deal with the mess that is your front yard. You always wanted a garden. Now’s as good a time as ever, you decide. You’re knee deep in the dirt, wrangling overgrown weeds in the 5 o’clock Sun, when it’s heat less overbearing when Danielle’s voice sings behind you.

“So he does leave his house.” She mocks, standing on the sidewalk in front of your lawn.

You silently thank her for the distraction from the weeds, tossing your trowel on the grass. “I told you, I went to pottery. Did you—”

“I saw her.”

“How is she?” You ask, and you drop the pretense. Your voice is hoarse and desperate.

“She’s good. Better, like you,” she says, and it’s weird to hear that you’re doing better when a week and a half ago you thought everything was okay. “Here,” she says, crossing the lawn. It’s a small Tupperware.

“What’s this?”

“Muffins. Chocolate chip. Hanni made them, she’s learning to bake!”

You stare at the container like it’s gold. “Hanni made them?”

“She told me to give you some.”

You don’t know what your heart does. Maybe it’s yearning, to see her again. Maybe it’s relief, to know she still thinks about you, or maybe it’s something else. Something you can’t say. “Hanni made them,” you repeat, soft.

Danielle eyes you like you’re a lost puppy. “Yeah… they’re good,” she says before turning off.

“Wait did you— did you guys talk about me?”

She turns, just her head, before smiling. “Only a lot!” She cheers before walking off.

The cupcakes were indeed good.

---

11:06pm, a call from Hanni. That was weird, she told you she was fine walking home from work alone now. You had told her it was fine, you liked being there when she walked, even if it was just on the phone. Weirder in fact because your fight the previous night wasn’t exactly resolved. You and Hanni just snacked on the bag of chips in silence.

It took you longer to answer than you’d want to admit. “Look, if this is about yesterday, I still don’t think—”

But when she says your name her voice is filled with urgency.

“Hanni? Hanni, what’s wrong?

“I think,” pauses, voice going quiet. “I think someone’s following me.”

You stood up, knocking the takeout box you’d been eating from to the floor. “What? Where are you?”

“I just left work,” she said, voice barely audible.

“Go to the convenience store,” you rushed, gathering your things at the same time. “I’ll be there.”

“It’s fine,” she mumbles, trying to mask the fear in her voice. “Just— stay on the line with me.”

But you ignored her, leaving anyway, still clutching the phone to your ear. Hanni just breathed, assured you that she made it to the convenience store. You assessed the situation once you arrived. A man, middle aged, wore a dark sweater, hood strings drawn tight lingered outside the door, walking side to side with practiced patience. He was eerily calm. He looked dangerous.

You strolled past him into the convenience store, rushing to find your Hanni. She flinched at the sound of the chime when you entered. “It’s just me, Hanni,” you said through the phone. She turned to the front, locking eyes with you, and relief flooded her system. You hung up, and ran to her. The hug felt warm and present, but you weren’t paying attention to that. You just held her. “Are you okay?”

“I am now.” She breathed into you.

Another chime of the bell and the man was inside. He didn’t seem so calm now. You gripped Hanni close as the man wandered the aisles with faux interest in the snacks that lined them. But his eyes kept darting to Hanni. You were starting to get nervous, even here, in the light of the convenience store with the burly cashier standing at the register. You could only imagine how Hanni had felt.

You gripped Hanni by the waist now, exiting the building. You didn’t know the plan, but you couldn’t just walk Hanni home, revealing her residence to the guy. So you crept along the edge of the window, Hanni still in your arms, until you were in eyeshot of the cashier.

You had seen him before, knew him well enough to know his name was Marc, had even seen him at the gym a couple of times, back when you went at least. He locked eyes with you, and you gestured over to the hooded man. He had completed his fake round of the store, and was headed to the exit. Marc understood the gesture, nodding to you, and before the hooded man could leave, Marc’s hands were on his shoulder. You’d need to thank him later.

Before you could register what had happened, you and Hanni dashed. Back to a main street, back to safety. You imagined Marc would have just distracted him, said he thought he saw him steal something and needed to confirm before letting him go; you hoped he’d punched him.

---

You did a lot of reflecting the past near-2 weeks. How you and Hanni would fight but brush it off, let your words sit unresolved as you pretended everything was okay. How she would brush off date night because she was tired, or how you would let her texts go unanswered for hours.

Danielle was right: you two were too comfortable. Too okay with not progressing, too fine with letting yourselves forget what it was like before you’d gotten comfortable. Until Hanni asked for a break.

And she was right too. Because you don’t think you would’ve realized it if you hadn’t had this separation.

You scrub the dishes from the dinner you just cooked, something simple. Sometimes you close your eyes, letting the timer tick down.

12 hours and 14 minutes.

The call is right there. You don’t know if you dread it, you just know you miss her voice. It’s been great, up until now, ever since Danielle reintroduced self care to your life. Scratch that, not great, just okay. You’ve just always kept track of it, that little timer in your head, but you never let it consume you.

But tonight is different. It’s the only thing on your mind. Everything you want to tell her, everything you’ve realized, it sits there on your mind like fire. You think of calling her, you have the whole break, but tonight the action sits there on the tip of your fingers. But you can’t let up this far into it. Plus, she’s at work right now, if her schedule hasn’t changed within the past couple of weeks.

You haven’t done much today, really. Just watched the time tick away. It’s only 10pm and you’re already in bed, jittering at every phantom ring of your phone. The anxious yearn is killing you. You don’t know when sleep starts or ends today. The timer is there either way.

---

“You’re late, it’s 11:17,” you said in a faux disappointed voice, but when Hanni chuckles it wipes away all pretense of the feeling.

“Sorry, I slept in~”

“That’s okay baby,” you let up.

And Hanni yawned through the phone, asking you: “What do you think love is?” As if she were asking you the time.

“Love? Well, it’s this, isn’t it. Us.”

You could almost hear her smile through the phone. “Well yeah, dummy. But what about us.”

“Well, we talk every day; I tell you I love you every day. I can’t help to wait for Sunday’s because I know every week, come rain, work or sickness, I get to see you. You’re in my thoughts and my dreams, my heart and my mind.”

Hanni giggled and you wished you could hug her through the line. “I know baby. But isn’t that the result of love?”

“The result?” You thought of a second. “I guess.”

“Then what is love?”

“I don’t know,” you admitted.

“Me neither. Usually you know for me.”

“Well I know I love you. Isn’t that enough?”

“It’ll always be enough,” she cooed.

---

You wake up to perfect blackness. You keep your eyes closed, let your mind slowly crawl out to consciousness. You’ve gotten used to waking up early, but still, on days like these you keep your—

Where’s the fucking timer?

Your body acts like a spring, shooting up. Please, please let her have called during the night. In the scramble you barely find your phone. Under your pillow, in case she called. But there’s nothing there. Hanni, from your phone background just stares up at you, notifications clear.

Okay, calm down, what could this mean? Did she decide she was done with you? And wouldn’t end up calling like she promised? No, she wouldn’t do that, not your Hanni. So then why?

She had work last night. You try not to think of the worst, but the memory of the hooded man following her home not a month ago sits in your mind like a brick.

And you don’t care anymore, don’t care that you’re on a break.

You call her with shaky hands, and it barely goes to voicemail before you’re out your front door, rushing, running to Hanni’s with her spare key in hand.

It doesn’t matter that you’re out of shape; that you just started going back to the gym this week, your legs work like wheels.

You’re running through every scenario in your head. You’re hoping to God she blocked you, she decided she didn’t need you anymore and cut you off, because the alternative— the alternative is something you won’t even think.

You’re up her front steps in a second, jamming the key in the lock with precision. You dash up the stairs.

And swinging her door open, your worst fears are stifled. She’s there, safe, asleep. And she looks so peaceful.

But it’s replaced with another fear. Is this what she can be? Without you? Sound and safe, and most importantly, happy? She lies there with a smile on her face, sprawled out in true comfort.

You shouldn’t have come, should’ve just called Danielle, asked her to check up on her and left her to live her life. A life without you.

Your hand is still on the doorknob, lingering there as if to say goodbye.

You try to turn to leave, but your hand can’t find respite. But then she stirs in the way she always does when she wakes up. With a yawn, first, then a stretch of her back as if she’s a cat after a particularly refreshing nap. She sits up, leaning back on her palms before her eyes open, and her irises are already locked on you.

“Oh,” she says, and it’s loaded, but you know what none of it means.

“I— I shouldn’t be here,” you say out loud. “I’m sorry.” You tear your hand away from the doorknob, even harder now that she’s looking at you.

“You can stay. If you want,” she says.

You turn to her, searching, searching for any hint of what she wants. But she acts as if all is right, as if the man she’s on a break with hasn’t just barged into her room unannounced. “What time is it?” She asks, noticing the high Sun shining through her window, like it’s the most important thing of note.

She reaches for her phone. “Oh, I forgot to charge it. It’s dead.”

Relief washes over you. She forgot to charge her phone. Like always. Is that why the timer disappeared? Was it linked to the phone, and not her? Usually you would scold her, but today, you smile. She notices.

And she puts your heart back to where it should be with an “I missed you.”

“I missed you too,” is what you say, but it’s not enough. You want to run into her arms, to hold her again, to stroke her hair and tell her everything, every little detail of the two weeks you hadn’t seen her. “I’m sorry Hanni.”

It’s loaded too, but Hanni was never one to let things hold in the air, until you lost yourselves. Something on her face breaks. “Come here.”

You cross the room with unrestrained need, and she takes you in her arms as you fall into her bed.

“I missed you so much, Hanni. I’m so sorry, sorry I let you get away from me, so sorry I let us lose ourselves,” you cry, and you can tell by the wetness on your shoulder and her shuddering that she is too. “I thought you were— I thought you’d—”

“I’m right here.”

Her hold feels like warm liberation, like honey on oats, and you quench every moment of it.

“I should’ve realized— that I was pushing you away.”

“It wasn’t just you,” she says, pulling away so she can look in your eyes, and they’re deep and wet but they’re also what you’ve been craving. “It was both of us— it was me too.” She takes the sleeve of her shirt and wipes your tears away. “But,” and she stutters, “but I can’t do this if nothing changes— I can’t do this if we continue like we’ve been.”

“I know,” you say, and she she rests her forehead on yours. “I’ve been thinking a lot. About what love is.”

“I asked you that like, 8 months ago,” she chuckles.

“And I didn’t know the answer then. But I think I do now.”

Her hands find yours, fingers interlocking. “What is it?”

“It’s choosing each other every day. It’s taking care of each other, it’s two people coming together to form one. Two wholes in one unit. But we can’t do that if we’re not taking care of ourselves, if we ourselves aren’t whole. I can’t put you first when I’m putting me last, can’t take care of you if I’m not taking care of myself. I think that’s why we started to resent each other.”

“Self-care,” Hanni laughs.

“Danielle?” You laugh as well.

“Mm-hmm. I guess we should thank her, for getting us back together.”

You break your forehead away from her, just a little. “Does that mean you want to get back together?”

“If you’ll have me. The new-old me.” You stay there for a moment, eyes locked. But when her eyes flick down to your lips, you close the distance.

And she tastes like she always has, like tea and rain and Hanni.

The kiss is slow and deep, but your heart is racing. You’ve felt— you’ve tasted these lips a thousand times, but you savour them. It’s pure and it’s raw, the kiss. No pretense of anything more, other than ‘I miss you’, and ‘I love you’.

She breaks away, breathy, uncomposed. “I didn’t mean to hurt you,” she says with her forehead still on yours.

“I know,” and your voice is equally breathy.

“I just— I needed to think—”

“I know.”

“And I’m sorry, I wanted to call you every day—”

“Hanni, I know.” You bring your hand up to her cheek, brushing it with your thumb.

“Come here,” she says again, but this time you don’t leave a shred of restraint. You take her lips again, and this time it’s passionate and soft, but unfiltered. Your tongues dance in each others mouths, hands in each others hair. She holds you tight, but her comforter is still wedged between you despite the closeness of your bodies.

You manage to break a way for a second. “Maybe we should slow down. Talk things out more,” you throw out.

“We can talk later,” she says, voice still laced with desperation. “I need you right now,” and she pulls you back in. Her hands claw at your shirt, still the one you slept in, and through tangled limbs and tongues, you manage to get it off. Her hands roam your chest with practiced knowledge, as if she already has the whole thing mapped, but the vigor of someone exploring something new.

Your hands work to slide the blanket from between you to, and eventually, you do. The contact of her on you is ecstasy, just her thin sleeping shirt separating you two. But you need to feel her, feel her flesh on yours. But your lips barely separate, only the few short breaks saving you from suffocation.

She wants it too, to feel your skin on hers, but your hands are in her hair, on her cheek, wrapped around her— everywhere. So when she eventually slides it up you’re forced you to tear away. And the sight of her is everything you need. Her toned midriff, her skin so smooth it could be frictionless, climbing up the breasts that always fit perfectly in your hands, her otherworldly collarbone. You can see her legs, her black lace panties framing her hips, because she never did wear pants to sleep. You stare for a moment, and she stares back.

And it’s like you’re still waiting for the call, still yearning for her. But she’s right in front of you. She reaches out again, and you take her hand in yours, your other sliding your pajama pants off of your throbbing member. It springs free, already lined up perfectly with her.

Her other hand slides the strings of her panties to the side, revealing her light stubbled and already wet pussy.

You can’t wait anymore, can’t put it off any longer. With a squeeze of your hand, she signals it too. You enter, feeling the wet hotness inching up your member. You almost lose it, almost release right there, but Hanni’s eyes are trained on yours and you know you must keep your composure.

There’s no words— they’re unnecessary. Her soft breaths, wanting moans say it all as you slide ever slowly deeper. The feeling engulfs you, her tightness wrapping perfectly around you.

Hanni shudders as you bottom out, hand squeezing yours.

Every movement conveys a feeling, every shudder a response as you continue your pace. Slowly, her hips match your rhythm and her hands reach out to your body once again. Your hands find her breasts, nipples like gems in your hands, and the sensation proves overwhelming. Hanni’s moans grow more frequent, every flick of her nipples causing her to tighten.

You fall into her, latching your mouth onto hers again. Your rhythm increases as she tightens and she breaths moans into your mouth.

Pressure starts to well up through your hips, crawling up your spine. “I’m gonna come, Hanni.”

“M-me too,” she manages.

Your bodies connect in the pleasure, and she compresses around you as you burst your load. The sensation is blinding, and all you can do is collapse into her, your load spewing into her in waves.

She gasps, throwing her head back in an arch of her back.

The comedown is a haze of breath and pecks. You collapse beside her, and she crawls up beside you. The two of you just lay there, letting the sex, the admittance, the two weeks sit between you. And none of it matters, because Hanni is beside you, leaning her head on your chest and looking up at you, eyes dreamy and brown. Just like it should be.

---

It’s 11:11 in the morning. You’re tending the garden. Finally, you can plant some flowers, weeds having been cleared.

You wish you stayed with Hanni, wish you could’ve spent the night just laying with her on your chest. But alas, she had plans with Danielle. And you weren’t the type of couple to stop living life for each other anymore.

Your phone rings. Your head doesn’t jolt, your body doesn’t react on its own, scrambling for your phone.

Instead, you slowly pull off your gardening gloves, smiling all the way.

You pick up the phone without checking who it is.

“You called,” you note.

“I did,” Hanni admits. “Do you want to come over? I learned how to make tiramisu.”

“Funny, I have the perfect plate for that.”

---

A/N 3: Really wanted to practice dialogue in this fic, so yeah. Wrote this a while ago so IDK what to say but Hanni so cute n pretty n perfect. I love you all!

—

By the time they were in their second year of high school, everyone knew Y/N.

It was not because he tried. It was because he breathed and walked through the hallways like the universe had forgotten to give him an awkward phase.

He was tall, broad-shouldered, all clean lines and a smile that showed one chipped tooth from when he fell off his bike in third grade. His hair fell into his eyes in that way stylists tried to recreate idols. He laughed too loud in the cafeteria, made teachers reluctantly smirk when he cracked jokes, and somehow remembered everyone’s names.

He did not know any of that.

Karina did.

She watched girls straighten their backs when he walked by, watched underclassmen linger at the stairwell a little longer if they heard his voice, watched boys drift toward him during lunch because it was fun to orbit someone like that.

What she hated most was that he did not change at all.

He ruffled hair, shared notes, lent out his pen that had half its grip chewed off, and never once looked like he knew people were staring. He only seemed flustered when teachers called on him in math.

“You know everyone likes you, right?” Karina said one afternoon, the words slipping out sharper than she meant.

They were on the school rooftop, legs dangling through the metal railing, cheap bread from the vending machine in their hands. The wind tugged at his hair and blew hers into her lip gloss.

He blinked up from the chocolate milk carton.

“Huh?”

Karina rolled her eyes. “You are not stupid. You know.”

“Know what?” He took a sip and squinted at her. “You are being weird about something again.”

“People like you.”

“I hope so.” He shrugged. “It would suck if they all hated me.”

She glared. “You know what I mean.”

He only grinned, lazy and bright. “You like me too. So I must be doing something right.”

It was infuriating how easily he could say that and not realize it made her heart skip.

She made a face to cover it up. “You are barely tolerable.”

“You were not saying that when I carried your bag up five floors because your legs were ‘weak from PE’.”

“The elevator was broken. I am short, not weak.”

He laughed and leaned back on his hands, head tipped to the sky. The afternoon sun softened the angle of his jaw, and the breeze tugged at his shirt.

Karina stared a second too long and then looked away, annoyed at herself.

Everyone liked him. Of course they did. He was easy to like. Easy to talk to. Easy to fall for.

And he was stupidly, stubbornly hers.

At least, she intended to keep it that way.

—

Their relationship had never had a clean border between “friends” and something else.

They were the kind of kids teachers automatically seated together because they worked well in pairs. They went to each other’s houses often enough that both sets of parents stopped asking when or why. His mother kept a pair of indoor slippers for Karina by the door. Her father grumbled less when Y/N was the one walking her home late.

They had their first fight in middle school when a boy from class 2–B confessed to Karina behind the gym.

He had been red to his ears, clutching a crumpled letter, stuttering through practiced lines. Karina had listened politely, heart pounding with nothing but discomfort, and then said, “I am sorry. I like someone else.”

She did not. Not properly. Not yet.

But she could see Y/N through the window, face smashed against the glass, wearing an expression like someone had stolen his lunch. Later he claimed he had been “just curious” about what a confession looked like in real life.

She had gone home that night and stared at the ceiling for hours, realizing that her first instinct, when a boy told her he liked her, was to look for Y/N’s face.

Years later, in their final year of high school, that instinct had not changed.

Their classroom was loud with end-of-day chatter. Exam season meant everyone was half hysterical, half resigned. Some kids took pictures, some slept on their desks, some copied homework they had conveniently “forgotten.”

Y/N sat sideways in his chair, one leg stretched out, twirling a pen between his fingers. There was a smear of ink across his knuckles. He was asking if she wanted to hit the convenience store before going home, already listing the snacks they could get.

Karina watched his mouth move and suddenly could not hear anything over the thud of her own pulse.

It occurred to her then, with the bluntness of a thrown brick, that nothing outside that classroom felt solid without him. Not graduation. Not college. Not her secret daydreams of singing on stage.

Every future scene she imagined had his laugh in it.

The thought terrified her.

People left. Friends lost touch. She had moved schools twice as a kid and watched faces blur together into old class photos. But not him. Never him.

Unless someone took him.

Unless he woke up one day and realized someone prettier, smarter, kinder was waiting with both arms open.

The idea made something bitter twist under her ribs.

She slapped her notebook closed.

“Be my boyfriend,” she said.

Y/N blinked. “Huh?”

The classroom noise dimmed in her ears. She leaned forward across the shared desk, eyes locked on his, daring him to misunderstand.

“Date me,” she clarified. “Starting today.”

He stared at her, searching her face for the punchline.

There was none. Her cheeks were warm, but her eyes were steady. No laughter, no teasing curve of her mouth.

“Why?” he asked, honest as always.

Karina’s fingers curled around her pencil so hard the wood creaked.

Because I cannot stand the thought of you with someone else. Because I have been saying “mine” in my head since we were six and I need it to be true in a way that does not disappear when we graduate.

“Because I want to,” she said instead, blunt, almost brusque. “Is that not enough?”

He opened his mouth, closed it, then laughed under his breath, like he still half expected someone to jump out and shout a prank.

“Sure,” he said.

No stars. No fireworks. No dramatic buildup.

Just that. Sure.

He said it like she had asked if she could copy his notes. Like this was inevitable. Natural.

“Really?” she pressed, eyes narrowing. “Do not say it if you are joking.”

He put down his pen, propped his chin in his hand, and gave her a look that had always been reserved for her when nobody else was listening.

“I am not joking,” he said. “I like you. So… yeah. Let’s date.”

Heat flooded her chest, sharp and dizzying.

From then on, “mine” was not just a word in her head anymore.

—

Dating Y/N turned out to be exactly like being his best friend, but with more hand holding and less pretending she did not want to lean into his side all the time.

He carried her bag even when she insisted she was not weak. He stole the pickles off her burgers and rolled his eyes when she put melon soda on top of instant ramen and called it “gourmet.” He walked her home, fingers curled around hers like second nature. They shared airpods and playlists and increasingly shameless amounts of skinship.

He had never been touch shy with her. But now there was a quiet intention behind every brush of his thumb over her knuckles. A new warmth in the press of his palm against the small of her back.

If people stared before, they stared more now.

“About time,” was the general consensus. Some classmates clapped when they first saw them holding hands in public. Someone tried to start a betting pool over how long they would last and got chased off when Karina fixed them with a deadpan stare.

For once, she did not mind the attention.

He was hers. Officially. Publicly. Everyone knew. It should have been enough to silence the old fear.

But sometimes in the hallway, when girls from other classes called his name with too-familiar smiles, that ugly, sour feeling still crawled up her throat.

“Your fan club is noisy today,” she muttered one morning as they pushed through a knot of first years obviously pretending not to look at him.

“Fan club?” He choked on a laugh. “There is no fan club.”

“Sure.” She tugged on his sleeve, forcing him to walk closer to her. “Maybe they can form a line and get your autograph later.”

He slung an arm over her shoulders in that easy way he had, pulling her into his side. “You sound jealous.”

“I am not jealous.” She clicked her tongue. “I am realistic.”

“Realistically,” he said, leaning down until his breath brushed her ear, “I am walking to school with my girlfriend and not with them. So they can be as noisy as they want.”

Her heart flipped. She scoffed to cover it up.

“Corny.”

“You like it.”

She did.

That was the problem.

—

The man in the suit appeared on a Wednesday.

They had just finished cram school and were cutting through the back street behind the main road. It was one of their usual routes, lit by a flickering streetlamp and the neon wash of the convenience store sign at the corner.

Karina was scrolling through her phone, complaining about homework. Y/N was balancing a carton of banana milk on his head for reasons known only to himself.

“Stop that,” she said without looking up, catching the carton before it fell. “You are going to waste it.”

“Art requires sacrifice.”

“Art can pay for its own snacks next time then.”

He was laughing when a shadow stepped into their path.

“Excuse me.”

They both stopped.

The man was in his thirties, clean cut, black suit pressed so sharp it caught the light. He had a leather bag slung over his shoulder and a lanyard with an ID peeking out from under his blazer.

Karina tensed automatically, body shifting half in front of Y/N without thinking.

“We are not interested in religion,” she said flatly.

The man blinked, then chuckled. “I am not here about that.”

He took out a wallet, flipped it open, and showed them his card.

SM Entertainment. Casting Manager.

Karina’s brain stuttered.

She knew the logo on sight. Everyone did. Trainee reality shows, debut announcements, legendary senior groups. SM was not just an agency. It was a myth machine.

“We have been observing the area around this station for a while,” the man said smoothly. “Looking for potential talent.”

He looked at Y/N then. Really looked. His eyes sharpened with something like satisfaction.

“You,” he said. “Have you ever considered auditioning?”

Y/N glanced over his shoulder, like there might be someone else behind him.

“Me?”

“Yes.” The manager stepped closer, professionally polite. “Great proportions, good face. You stand out in a crowd. Have you had any experience singing or dancing?”

Y/N scratched the back of his neck. “Um. Not… professionally. Just karaoke and… YouTube? And school festivals, I guess.”

Karina could not breathe.

She had watched trainee videos in secret for years. Practiced choreography in her bedroom when everyone was asleep. Built silent castles of fantasy around stages she had never stepped on.

To hear those words directed at him with such easy confidence hurt and thrilled her at the same time.

The manager’s gaze flicked to her for a moment.

“You too,” he added, almost as an afterthought. “You have a good look. Sharp features. You would show up well on camera.”

Almost.

Y/N’s brow furrowed. “Is this… real?”

The manager smiled like he had heard that question a hundred times.

“You can call the company number if you want to verify,” he said, handing each of them a card. “Auditions are open, but a recommendation from scouting helps your profile stand out. We are holding first–round evaluations next month.”

He turned to walk away, then paused and looked back at Y/N again, eyes gleaming.

“You especially. It would be a waste if you did not at least try.”

When he disappeared down the street, the world felt slightly tilted.

Y/N stared at the card in his hand. The SM logo glinted under the streetlight.

“Holy shit,” he said.

Karina did not say anything.

Her heart was beating too hard, her palms slick. SM. The company she had seen in every late night search bar. The one she had never had the courage to approach.

She had always imagined that if this moment ever happened, she would explode with joy or cry or scream.

Instead, her first thought was ugly and selfish.

Of course they notice him first.

He was still looking at the card, mouth parted in faint disbelief. “Do you think it is fake? Like a scam?”

“No,” she said quietly. Her voice did not sound like hers. “It is real.”

He glanced up at her then, eyes bright, boyish excitement starting to dawn.

“This is crazy,” he murmured. “Me? An idol?”

You would be perfect, she thought bitterly. Of course you would.

“How about you?” he asked. “You love music. You should try.”

Her head snapped up.

He was not mocking. His eyes were warm. Encouraging. Like he genuinely wanted her there.

“I…” Her throat tightened. Stage lights. Crowds. Cameras. Panic.

“I cannot,” she said, too fast. “I would die of embarrassment.”

“You will not.” He bumped her shoulder with his. “You sing better than half the people on those shows anyway.”

“That is not true.”

“It is. I have ears. I use them sometimes.”

She stared at the card. It felt heavy.

All those nights of practicing choreography in front of her mirror with the sound turned low came back in a rush. All the times she had fantasized about someone, anyone, looking at her and saying I see something in you.

Now that moment was here and it hurt like a bruise.

He had not come for her. Not really.

But he had looked. And he had said potential. And Y/N was watching her with that open, earnest face, waiting for her to say yes so they could jump into this new world together like they always had.

If she said no, what would happen? He might still go. Alone. Into a place full of people who would see every good thing about him and want a piece of it.

She pictured trainees crowding around him, laughing at his jokes, girls confessing backstage, older idols patting his shoulder. Pictured herself outside, watching through a screen while someone else became his default.

Her grip on the card tightened.

“Come on,” he coaxed. “If it sucks, we can quit together and pretend this never happened. At least you will know you tried.”

He always talked like that. We. Together.

He had no idea how much she had built her life around that word.

“Fine,” she said. “I will do it.”

—

Audition day smelled like sweat and cheap perfume.

Dozens of kids lined the hallway, some clutching lyric sheets, some fixing their hair in tiny compact mirrors. There were girls in full makeup and heels, boys in practice clothes and branded sneakers, a few parents hovering anxiously near the doors.

Karina’s stomach churned so much she wondered if she should have skipped breakfast.

Y/N sat beside her on the waiting bench, bouncing his knee like an excitable puppy. He was in a simple black T–shirt and joggers, hair pushed off his forehead. He looked stupidly good without trying, which irritated her and steadied her in equal parts.

“Number 43,” an assistant called.

Y/N glanced at his number tag. “That is you.”

Karina swallowed.

She stood on wooden legs. Her palms were slick.

“You will be fine,” Y/N said. He reached up and squeezed her hand. “Pretend it is just karaoke. With some men in suits staring at you.”

“That is not helpful.”

“You are going to kill it.” His smile was so confident it was almost offensive. “I promise.”

She wanted to say I am only here because you are. Instead, she nodded and walked into the audition room before she could talk herself out of it.

Three judges behind a long table. A camera pointed at her. A mark on the floor for her to stand on.

She introduced herself, voice shaking a little, then forced herself to breathe, the way she had practiced.

When the music started, her body moved automatically.

She sang a song she had never admitted out loud was her dream debut track. Her voice was not perfect, but it did not crack. Her hands did not shake. She hit the high note clean.

By the end, her lungs were burning and her heart felt strangely light, despite the nerves.

The middle judge scribbled something on his paper. The one on the right hummed thoughtfully.

“You have a pleasant tone,” the left one said. “You are stiff and your breathing needs work, but there is potential.”

That word again.

“Thank you,” she managed, bowing.

Outside, Y/N was pacing.

“How was it?” he asked immediately, searching her face. “Did they like you?”

She blinked. “I… I think so. They said I have potential.”

His grin lit up. “Of course you do. See? I told you.”

His name was called then.

He bounced to his feet, made a face at her, then walked in with that same easy posture he wore to school.

Karina sat down, pressed her hands between her knees to stop them from shaking, and stared at the closed door.

Through the wall, she could barely hear the echo of his voice when he greeted the judges, confident and clear.

When it was over, he came out smiling.

“And?” she demanded.

He shrugged, too casual. “They said my singing is rough and I need breath control. But they liked my dancing. One of them said my expression was good.”

Of course it was. Looking at him felt like watching a stage director’s dream even in practice videos. He moved like music lived under his skin.

“They said they will call in a few weeks,” he added. “If we pass.”

He said we again without thinking.

She hung onto it like a rope.

—

They both passed.

Karina found out from an email after school, her hands trembling so badly she nearly dropped her phone. Her parents were skeptical. Her mother frowned at the contract. Her father asked if this was some kind of elaborate scam.

But when she said SM, their expressions shifted.

“You still have to finish school,” her mother said. “You are not dropping everything for a dream.”

“I know.”

“And if it affects your grades…”

“I know,” she repeated, firmer this time. “I will handle it. Please. Let me try.”

Her father studied her for a long moment. It was the first time she had sounded so certain about anything that was not Y/N.

“Fine,” he said at last. “You get a year. If it is all nonsense, you focus on university.”

She nodded.

Y/N called that night, voice crackling over the line.

“You got in too, right?”

“Yes.”

He whooped so loudly she had to hold the phone away from her ear.

“See? We are going to be idols,” he crowed. “You and me. I told you this would be fun.”

His joy was contagious. For a little while, it drowned out the small, mean part of her that whispered they wanted him more than they wanted you.

—

Trainee life was hell with shiny floors.

The SM building was intimidating from the outside, all glass and chrome, but inside it smelled like disinfectant and effort. Practice rooms with mirrored walls, corridors with posters of seniors who felt like distant gods. A cafeteria where everyone looked either exhausted or too awake.

On their first day, they were given ID cards and schedules.

“Y/N,” the coordinator said, sliding his across the desk. “You will be in the male vocal and dance classes. You are in the B batch for now.”

He turned to Karina. “Karina, right? You are in the female dance C batch and vocal C as well.”

C.

She told herself it meant nothing. Just letters. Just a starting point.

They changed into practice clothes and stepped into their separate rooms.

Karina’s first dance class left her gasping, knees weak, T–shirt drenched. The trainer did not raise his voice, but his comments cut sharp and clean.

“You are thinking too much. Your upper body is stiff. Loosen your shoulders. If you cannot breathe, your lines look dead. Again.”

Each “again” felt like a hammer.

She saw the other trainees. Some younger. Some older. Some clearly already at a high level, bodies moving with a crisp snap she could not replicate yet.

In the mirror, her own face looked pinched.

When class ended, she dragged herself into the hallway and nearly collapsed against the wall.

Y/N found her there, sweat plastering his hair to his forehead.

“You survived,” he said, dropping down beside her.

“Barely.” She wiped her face with her towel. “How was yours?”

He scratched his cheek, sheepish. “Vocal was rough. They said I have good color but no control. Dance was… okay.”

“Okay” turned out to mean the trainer had made him demonstrate steps for the others by the end. Within two months, he was moved from B batch to A.

“Monster trainee,” one of the boys muttered under his breath once, not unkindly.

Karina heard it from the open door as she walked past for her own class.

Monster.

Of course.

He took to this world like he had been born for it. His body responded; his rhythm sharpened; his voice, under proper training, grew steadier. That same natural charisma that made classmates flock to him now drew trainees too.

“Y/N sunbaenim, can you help me with this step?”

“You hit that note so clean, did you always sing?”

“You should audition for the next boy group, you would get in for sure.”

She watched from the periphery, hands knotted in the strap of her bag.

At first, she was happy for him. Proud. This was good. This was what he deserved.

But pride curdled on the days when trainers asked him to stay back and practice with seniors, while she was told to run basics again. When she saw girls from vocal class laughing with him in the hallway, shoulder to shoulder, too close.

“Your boyfriend is popular,” one of the trainees commented to her in the locker room, tone light.

Karina forced a smile. “He is just friendly.”

“Still.” The girl giggled. “If my boyfriend was that handsome and talented, I would not let him out of my sight.”

Karina laughed too, as if playing along.

The words stuck like a thorn.

—

“Is this about that girl again?”

They sat in the tiny convenience store near the station, the one that had become their unofficial post–practice crash site. It was almost midnight. The fluorescent lights buzzed. The clerk was half asleep behind the counter.

Karina stabbed a fish cake on a stick and glared at him.

“I am not ‘about’ anyone.”

“You get weird every time she talks to me.” He slurped his ramyeon, oblivious to the soup splashing onto the table. “She is just a classmate.”

“She touches your arm a lot for ‘just a classmate’.”

He blinked. “Does she?”

“You do not notice because you are an idiot.”

He laughed. “Hey. I am not an idiot. Just clueless sometimes.”

She set her chopsticks down harder than necessary.

“What if,” she muttered, staring at the stew instead of his face, “one day you stop being clueless and realize you like someone else?”

The words came out more fragile than she intended.

The question hung between them, heavy.

He chewed for a moment, oblivious at first. Then he saw her expression and his gaze softened.

“Jimin,” he said quietly.

She hated how much that name could still calm her down.

He reached across the table and hooked his pinky finger around hers.

“When have I ever not picked you?” he asked. “Since we were kids. Every group project, every game, every stupid thing. It is you. I am not suddenly going to wake up and forget that.”

“That is not how it works,” she muttered, but some of the ice in her chest melted.

He squeezed her pinky. “I picked you as my girlfriend too, remember?”

“You only said yes because I asked out of nowhere,” she said. “You did not even think about it.”

“I did.” His voice was so serious she had to look up. “Maybe not in that exact second. But I thought about it a hundred times before without noticing. It felt… obvious. When you asked, it just clicked.”

Her throat went tight.

“You are so cheesy,” she whispered.

“You like it.”

She did.

She also liked hearing him say I picked you, as if it was a choice he kept making, not a default he could get bored of.

She held onto that, even as the gap between their growth in the company slowly widened.

—

The break came during a holiday.

Most trainees went home for a few days. SM’s schedule eased slightly around the national break, but the serious ones stayed to practice. Y/N was one of them, of course.

“You should rest,” Karina told him that morning, standing in the empty dance room with her hands on her hips. Sunlight filtered through the blinds, cutting the room into stripes.

“I will rest when I am a superstar,” he replied, grinning. “Come on. One more run–through.”

He had found a new choreography on YouTube the night before. Some insane routine from a senior boy group that involved spins, jumps, and footwork that made her ankles ache just watching.

Karina followed him as best she could. They were both tired from the week, but moving together felt familiar. Safe.

Halfway through the song, her lungs started to burn. Sweat ran into her eyes. She made a mistake on the turn, bumped into him, muttered an apology, and kept going.

He did not complain. He only pushed harder, effort etched into the line of his shoulders.

On the final chorus, there was a jump. A full spin and land.

They did it once. Twice. Three times.

On the fourth, Y/N’s foot slid on a patch of sweat on the floor.

Karina saw it in slow motion. His leg extended, weight wrong, knee twisting grotesquely to the side as his body went down.

There was a sound like someone snapping a thick branch. Then his scream.

“Y/N!”

The music cut off as she fumbled for her phone with shaking hands. He was curled on the ground, clutching his right leg, face white, sweat suddenly cold on his skin.

“It hurts, it hurts, fuck, it hurts,” he gasped, voice ragged.

She knelt beside him, useless, trying not to panic.

“Do not move,” she said, though he clearly could not. “I am calling someone. Hold on. Just hold on, okay?”

He gritted his teeth, eyes squeezed shut. Tears leaked out despite his effort.

By the time staff rushed in and an ambulance was called, his breathing had turned shallow. He went quiet with the kind of stillness that felt worse than the screaming.

Later, at the hospital, a doctor in a white coat said the words “multiple ligament tears” and “surgery” and “six to twelve months minimum recovery.”

“Will he dance again?” Karina asked, voice thin.

The doctor hesitated. “We will do our best. But he should not rush. If he pushes too hard, he could cause permanent damage.”

Y/N stared at the ceiling. His fingers clenched in the bedsheet.

“I am sorry,” he said, voice shaking. “I am so fucking sorry.”

Karina did not understand why he was apologizing until he looked at her, eyes wild.

“I ruined it,” he said. “We just started. We were going to do this together and I ruined it. You could have been practicing instead of babysitting me in a hospital.”

“Shut up,” she snapped, because the alternative was crying. “None of this is your fault.”

That night, she sat in the uncomfortable visitor chair and watched him sleep through the pain medication, his leg wrapped in bandages and metal.

He looked small for the first time in years.

It hit her then, with ugly clarity, that he might not come back from this the same. Physically. Mentally.

He had thrown himself into this dream for her. Because she asked. Because he always went where she went.

Guilt twisted with a quieter, more shameful feeling.

If he could not dance anymore, if he decided to quit, he would be free from this world that wanted too much from him. He would go back to school. Back to being just hers.

The thought made her sick.

She hated herself for even thinking about it.

But she did.

—

Recovery was brutal.

The first days post–surgery, Y/N could barely move without cursing. Physical therapy made him sweat through shirts he was not even allowed to stand in. His muscles atrophied quickly. The leg that had once carried him through endless choreography now refused to cooperate, stiff and untrustworthy.

SM sent get–well baskets. Trainers visited once or twice. The casting manager came, patted his shoulder, and said, “Focus on healing. We will reevaluate later.”

The word later stretched into something fragile.

Karina’s schedule did not pause. She still had dance classes, vocal drills, monthly evaluations. She siphoned every free minute to visit him, carrying class gossip and ramen and stupid jokes to fill the silence.

He tried to stay upbeat, but sometimes, late at night when the pain was bad, his mask slipped.

“What if this is it?” he whispered once, staring at the dark ceiling. “What if I never get back to where I was?”

“You will,” she said reflexively.

“You do not know that.”

“I do.”

“Jimin.”

She flinched.

He turned his head, eyes tired.

“You always say that,” he murmured. “Like if you believe hard enough, the universe has to listen.”

“Has it not worked so far?” she shot back, too sharp.

His mouth twisted. “We are in a hospital, and I might lose the only thing I am good at. I do not think it is working this time.”

She had no answer for that. Only her own selfishness coiled in her chest.

“You were good at things before this,” she said finally. “You are not… only a trainee.”

He laughed without humor. “Yeah. Class clown. Neighborhood dog–walker. Very impressive.”

She reached out and took his hand.

“You were mine,” she wanted to say.

Instead: “You came here because of me. If you decide this is not worth it anymore, it is okay.”

His eyes searched hers, sharp.

“Do you want me to quit?” he asked.

The question cut her open.

“No,” she lied automatically. “Of course not.”

“You hesitated.”

“I was thinking.”

“About what?”

She swallowed.

About how walking into the practice room without you makes me feel like the floor is gone. About how every time a trainer praises me now, I hear their unspoken but not as good as him. About how the idea of you coming back and being surrounded again, shining, terrifies me in a way I do not know how to name.

“About your future,” she said instead. “If you push your leg and hurt it more, then what? You will not even be able to dance at karaoke.”

He snorted. “Tragic.”

“I am serious.”

“So am I.” He squeezed her fingers back weakly. “We started this together. It feels wrong to stop now.”

There it was again. We.

He did not see what she saw. That this thing, this dream, wrapped around him easier than it did around her. That with or without her, he would have been scouted if he stood on any other street on any other day.

The guilt swelled, hot and acid.

“Maybe,” she said slowly, “this is a sign.”

He frowned. “A sign of what? That gravity is a bitch?”

She managed a humorless smile. “That you were never meant to be here in the first place.”

His eyes stilled.

“You only auditioned because of me,” she pushed on, quiet. “You had plans. University. Music production. That business major you pretended you did not want but your mom kept talking about.”

“So?”

“So maybe this was never your path. Maybe… maybe it is better if you go back. Before it gets harder to leave.”

It sounded almost reasonable out loud. Logical. Concerned.

Inside, something ugly sneered at her own hypocrisy.

He stared at her for a long moment.

“Do you want me there alone?” he asked. “In the company?”

The way he phrased it made her feel like dirt.

“You think everything is about what I want?” she said weakly.

“Is it not?” He tried to make it a joke, but the edge was there.

She bit her lip until she tasted blood.

“I am saying,” she whispered, “I do not want you to hurt yourself more because of me. If you decide this was just… an experience, that is okay. You do not owe this place anything.”

He closed his eyes.

The worst part was that he heard concern in her voice and believed it. It was concern. It was also a quiet, desperate attempt to keep him from stepping back into a room where everyone else seemed to want a piece of him.

“I will think about it,” he said eventually. “After the therapy. After school decisions.”

Karina nodded.

She left the hospital that night feeling like she had swallowed glass.

—

He did not go back.

It did not happen all at once. There were months of rehab, stretches where it looked like he might heal faster, days when he joked about stage names and fan chants.

But when the year mark approached, when his leg finally bent and straightened without a knife of pain, he stood at a crossroads.

SM asked him to come in for reevaluation.

He looked at the text for a long time. Then at his acceptance letter to a good university’s music production and business program.

Karina sat beside him on the park bench where they had eaten ice cream through half of middle school, watching his profile as he thought.

“What are you going to do?” she asked.

He blew out a breath.

“When I think about going back,” he said, “I remember the injury first, not the dancing. The panic. The way it hurts to move. It is like… something in my brain rewired it from joy to fear.”

She listened in silence.

“I do not want to be scared every time I step into a practice room,” he confessed. “I do not want to flinch every time I jump.”

“You could get past that,” she said quietly.

“Maybe,” he replied. “But I keep coming back to what you said. About signs.”

Her stomach twisted.

“This feels like a sign to try something else,” he went on. “I still love music. I still want to be around it. But maybe my place is not under a spotlight. Maybe it is behind it.”

He smiled then, small but surprisingly peaceful.

“I think I will focus on college,” he said. “At least for now.”

The words were a relief and a gut punch at once.

“You are sure?” she asked.

He nodded. “Yeah.”

He looked at her, eyes warm.

“You are staying, right?” he asked. “You are… happy there?”

She thought about the endless drills, the stress, the hierarchy. The trainers who had started nodding at her more. The one time a vocal coach told her, “You are starting to sound like a singer, not just a trainee.” The way her body had started to move when music played, not stiff but almost free.

She thought about the posters on the wall she still sometimes touched with her fingertips.

“Yes,” she said, and this time it felt true. “I think I am.”

“Good.” He bumped his shoulder into hers. “Then I will be your biggest fan.”

He said it easily. Without irony.

She smiled back and leaned her head against his shoulder, ignoring the way guilt gnawed somewhere far beneath her ribs.

It would be years before she admitted to herself that she had nudged him toward that choice. Softly. Gently. For his sake. For hers.

For both.

—

Karina debuted in aespa on a cold November day that smelled like hairspray and nerves.

The build up felt like drowning slowly. Years of training, monthly evaluations, cuts. New girls coming in, old ones disappearing without goodbye. The constant hovering threat of injury, of being “not quite what we are looking for.”

Then one day, the company called her into a room and told her she was in a new girl group.

“You will be Karina,” they said. “This is your concept. Here is your teaser schedule. Here are your members.”

Winter, sharp eyed and deceptively soft looking. Giselle, loud laughter and quick comebacks. Ningning, a voice like liquid gold and a mischievous streak.

They became a second kind of family.

The day their debut MV dropped, Y/N sent a screen recording of the YouTube page to their old group chat with nothing but a string of capslocked swearing.

“Look at you,” he wrote after, spamming emojis. “Are you even real? Proud of you.”

She watched the video in the practice room bathroom on break, staring at her own reflection in the polished tiles as she mouthed along to her own lines.

The girl on screen did not look like the one who had clung to a boy’s sleeve on a playground and declared him “mine.”

This one was sharp, ethereal, eyes lined black, lips painted. She stood in formations that made use of her height. She moved with control she had bled for. Her voice slid into harmonies and hooks people might hum without knowing her name.

aespa exploded faster than even the company had dared to hope.

Staggering streaming numbers. Variety shows. Award shows. Stage after stage. Fancams. Trend videos.

Karina’s life became schedules, cameras, and snatched hours of sleep. Managers knocking on van windows to wake them. Stylists fussing with hair while their artists ate kimbap between makeup touches.

Sometimes, at two in the morning, she would lie in a hotel bed in another city, phone screen dim on the nightstand, and watch old photos of her and Y/N from high school.

Him holding an umbrella over both their heads. Her making a disgusted face as he tried to feed her tteokbokki. His arm slung around her neck like a human scarf.

It felt like looking at someone else’s dream.

They stayed together. Somehow.

It became harder.

He juggled university life, part time jobs, and their relationship. She juggled comebacks, training, and the constant threat of fans or reporters seeing them together.

They texted. They called. They met in hidden corners of the city, hoods up, masks on.

“You are losing weight,” he would say, thumb brushing under her cheekbone.

“You are getting eye bags,” she would retort.

He would laugh, but his eyes would stay worried.

He supported everything. Sent her flowers secretly to the company building when she got her first solo magazine cover. Stayed up to watch music show live streams and texted reactions like a fan.

“You looked fucking insane today,” he wrote once after a particularly intense performance. “That last dance break? I am suing.”

She basked in it. In him.

Even when their calls were short. Even when she snapped at him out of exhaustion and he went quiet on the other end.

She always expected him to be there when she reached.

He always was.

—

He went viral on a night she was not there to see it.

She was overseas for a concert. Another city, another hotel room that looked like all the others.

aespa had just finished a chaotic V Live. Her throat hurt from singing and laughing. Her shoulders ached from the weight of the mic pack. She showered, changed into pajamas, and collapsed onto the bed, scrolling through social media on autopilot.

A video popped up on her explore page.

No caption. No tags. Just a screengrab of a familiar profile under neon karaoke lights.

Karina froze.

She pressed play.

The clip started mid–song. The sound quality was shit, muffled and uneven, but his voice cut through clean.

Y/N was in a cramped karaoke room, holding a mic in one hand, the other gesturing loosely as he hit a high note most people would have murdered. He wore a casual oversized sweatshirt, hair pushed off his forehead, sweat darkening the fabric around his collarbone.

Two friends sat on the couch behind him, cheering. One idiot was yelling, “Look at this guy! Why is he not an idol?” in the background.

The song shifted into a dance track. Someone shouted for the instrumental to play. Y/N laughed and obliged.

He moved.

Not the half–hearted jokey moves people did at parties. Real choreography. Sharp, clean angles. Footwork is smooth but precise. Expression on point, eyes lit up in a way she had not seen in years.

He hit the chorus perfectly, voice and steps both aligned.

Karina’s chest squeezed.

He looked like he belonged on a stage. Even in that stupid cramped room with peeling wallpaper and colored lights, he looked like someone the camera wanted to follow.

The video cut abruptly. Then replayed.

She checked the view count.

Five hundred thousand. No, wait. Refresh.

Eight hundred thousand.

Comments scrolled down faster than she could read.

Who is this???  

He is hotter than half the idols out now  

SM HOW DID YOU LET THIS ONE GO  

His dancing is crazy and his voice too???  

The fact that he said “I was a trainee but quit” casually??? Sir what  

Her blood went cold.

She scrolled further.

There he was in the comments, under his own username, replying to someone.

“I used to be an SM trainee,” he had written. “I stopped because of a leg injury and decided to focus on college instead.”

Someone had screenshot that too. It was trending on a smaller forum already.

Former SM trainee. Viral video. Insane visuals.

The algorithm smelled a story and sank its teeth in.

Karina dropped her phone onto the bed, heart hammering.

The door clicked open. Winter poked her head in.

“Unnie, did you see that video? The guy in the karaoke room? People are saying he was from SM. He is hot.”

Karina’s nails dug into the mattress.

“Yeah,” she said, voice tight. “I saw.”

—

JYP contacted him first.

Not SM, which stung in a petty way she knew was irrational. SM had moved on years ago. Trainees came and went. Injuries happened. People disappeared from the system all the time.

She heard about it from him, on a call that felt too calm for what he was saying.

“They want to meet,” he said. “JYP. For a solo artist contract.”

Karina sat at her dressing table in the green room, surrounded by half–finished makeup, the hum of other staff in the background.

“A solo?” she repeated.

“Yeah.” There was a note of disbelief in his voice. “Not a group. Not ‘we will see if you fit anywhere.’ They want to build something around me.”

She swallowed.

“Did you tell them no?” The words were out before she could catch them.

Silence.

“I am going to hear them out,” he said slowly.

“Y/N.” Her voice came out too sharp. “You know how this industry is.”

“I know,” he said. “I watched you go through it, remember?”

“Then why would you jump back in?”

“Because I am not eighteen and clueless this time,” he shot back, uncharacteristically impatient. “I took a business degree for a reason. I know how contracts work. I know what to ask for.”

“Your leg…”

“Is fine,” he said. “I would not even consider this if it was not.”

She pinched the bridge of her nose, fighting for calm.

“You already have a path,” she tried. “You are good at what you are doing. Music production, right? Why risk all of that for… for some viral video hype and an offer from a company that will eat you alive if you let it?”

On the other end of the line, he went very quiet.

“Wow,” he said after a moment, voice flat. “Okay.”

Guilt pricked her skin, but the words kept tumbling out, driven by a fear she did not know how to name gently.

“You said it yourself. Trainee life is brutal. Being an idol is worse. You see all the shit I deal with. The schedules, the fans, the scrutiny. You really want that?”

“Do you regret your debut?” he asked.

The question cut her off.

“No,” she said instantly.

“Then why is it okay for you but not for me?”

“Because I have been doing this for years,” she argued. “Because I built my whole life around it. You have options.”

“And you do not?”

“That is not what I meant.”

“What did you mean, then?”

She paused, floundering.

She could not tell him the truth. The thought of him on stage, under lights that were not SM’s, with people screaming his name and claiming pieces of him, made her feel like the floor had vanished under her feet. That some paranoid, poisonous part of her was whispering He will outshine you without even trying. He will be everywhere and nowhere near you.

“That you only came into this world because of me,” she said instead, softer. “I do not want you to sacrifice yourself again for something that is not even your dream.”

“This is my dream,” he said quietly. “Now it is. Not because of you. Not for you. For me.”

She sucked in a breath.

Before she could respond, someone knocked on her dressing room door.

“Karina–ssi, standby in five minutes,” a staff member called.

“I have to go,” she said, forced back into professional mode.

“Of course,” he said. “You are busy.”

“Y/N, I am not saying this to hurt you, I just–”

“We will talk later,” he cut in. “Good luck on your stage.”

The line went dead.

She stared at her reflection, makeup half done, eyes too bright.

In the mirror, the girl in lashes and glitter bit her own tongue.

—

He accepted.

Of course he did.

JYP trained their idols differently than SM. A different flavor of polish, a different kind of pressure. But they knew how to make a soloist. They had history.

He told her in person, sitting on the same rooftop where she had first asked him to be her boyfriend.

“They made a good offer,” he said. “Creative control. Time to develop. They want to build me, not squeeze me dry. At least, that is what the contract looks like.”

Wind tugged at his hair. The sky was gray.

She stared at him, feeling the ground tilt.

“So you are really doing this,” she said.

“Yeah.”

“For you.”

“For me,” he said firmly.

She laughed, brittle. “You sound so proud of that.”

“I am.” He watched her carefully. “Is that so bad?”

The answer was no. It was good. It was healthy.

It scraped against every selfish thing in her chest.

“You are going to be competing with me,” she blurted. “Do you get that? People will compare you. To me. To aespa. To everyone.”

“People compare you already,” he pointed out. “You do not let it stop you.”

“That is different.”

“How?”

“Because…” She flailed. “Because I am used to it. Because I chose this a long time ago. Because I thought if one of us was on stage and one of us was not, that would be… simpler.”

“How convenient,” he said dryly. “For you.”

She flinched.

His gaze hardened slightly, the way it did when he was really, truly angry, which was rare.

“You keep saying this is about me,” he said slowly. “My health. My options. My happiness. But every time you talk about it, all I hear is how it affects you.”

“That is not fair,” she snapped, hurt and stinging. “I have been supporting you since day one. I was the one in the hospital with you. I was there when you were depressed. I pushed you to go to therapy. I told you to chase what you wanted before you even knew what that was.”

“And I am grateful,” he said. “I always have been. But this is the first time I have wanted something this big for myself. Really for myself. And the only thing you have done since is look like you are waiting for me to change my mind.”

Her hands fisted in her lap.

“Because I am scared,” she said, the truth bursting out, ugly and raw. “Okay? I am scared. I watched this industry chew people up and spit them out. I watched people go crazy from the pressure. I am terrified you will get hurt again, and I am so tired of being the reason why.”

“The reason why?” he repeated. “You think you are the reason I exist?”

“You know what I mean.”

“Do I?” He leaned back, eyes on the sky. “Sometimes it feels like you want me to stay small. Where you can reach. Where nobody else can see what I can do.”

“That is not fair,” she said again, weaker this time.

“Is it not?” He looked at her, gaze sharp. “You loved it when I supported your dream, Jimin. When I put college on hold to be your backup dancer in practice rooms. When I quit SM and told you to stay. You called me your biggest fan.”

“You are,” she whispered.

“What about you?” he asked. “Can you be mine? Or do you only like my dreams when they do not collide with yours?”

The silence between them hummed.

He had never spoken to her like this. Not with this much frustration, this much tired hurt.

Fear crawled up her throat.

“Y/N,” she started. “I just do not want to lose you.”

He laughed once, without humor.

“You know what is funny?” he said. “That is exactly what this feels like from my side. Like I am losing you by daring to want something you do not control.”

Her breath hitched.

“Do you think I am controlling you?” she asked, voice so small it disgusted her.

He sighed, rubbing a hand over his face.

“I think you are scared,” he said. “I think your fear makes you say things that sound like support but feel like shackles. I think you love me. I know you do. But sometimes it feels less like love and more like you are holding on for dear life, even if it chokes us both.”

The words landed like blows.

She wanted to cry. To scream. To tell him he was wrong, that she had always, always tried to be good for him. That everything she did was because she loved him so much her bones hurt.

Instead, she stared at her own hands and realized he was not completely wrong.

“Are you breaking up with me?” she whispered.

The question came out so quietly that if the wind had been louder, it would have swallowed it whole.

He was quiet for a long time.

“I do not want to,” he said finally. “I have never wanted that.”

Her heart lurched.

“But I cannot do this?” she finished for him.

He closed his eyes.

“I am about to walk into something huge and terrifying,” he said. “I need people around me who will hold my hand and say, ‘Go. I have your back. I will be there when you fall.’ I did that for you. Gladly. For years. I did it when it was not even my dream.”

He opened his eyes again, meeting her gaze dead on.

“If the best you can manage is to tell me all the reasons I should stay small, then no,” he said. “I cannot do this. Not as your boyfriend.”

The hurt was numb for a moment. Then it came in a wave.

“So this is my fault,” she said dully.

“It is not about fault,” he said. “It is about… what we have become to each other.”

His voice broke a little on the last words.

“I love you,” he added, almost angrily. “You know that, right? You are not… some fling. You are my entire childhood. You are every memory that matters. Breaking this is the last thing I ever wanted to do.”

“Then do not,” she said, desperate. “I can change. I can–”

“You should,” he cut in gently. “For you. Not to keep me.”

Tears blurred her vision.

“What if I cannot?” she choked.

“Then at least I am not helping you hurt yourself or me anymore,” he said quietly.

He stood up.

Panic clawed at her chest.

“Y/N,” she said, reaching out.

He stepped just out of reach.

“I am going to debut,” he said, voice steady now, lined with something like resolve. “I am going to do it with or without your support. I hope you can be happy for me. Someday. Even if it is from far away.”

He hesitated, every muscle in his body screaming reluctance.

“I am not doing this because I stopped loving you,” he said. “I am doing it because I finally started loving myself enough to not let your fear decide my life.”

Then he turned and walked away.

She did not chase him.

Her legs would not move.

She sat there on the rooftop where they had once decided a relationship in a single, casual “Sure” and realized things did not break all at once.

Sometimes they cracked over years, under the weight of words like mine, mine, mine.

The wind was cold.

For the first time in years, she was alone in a way that felt real.

—

He debuted the following year.

She watched it happen through a screen first, then through endless clips shared by people who had no idea who he was to her.

Stage name different. Styling sharp. Vocals strong. Dancing better than ever, refined by time and intention rather than panic and fear.

He looked incredible.

Karina hated him a little for it, in the way people hate what they cannot stop looking at.

JYP knew what they were doing. They built his concept around contrast: clean visuals, sharp performance, lyrics that cut deep. He wrote some of his own songs. They let him talk about fear, about failure, about getting back up.

Fans ate it up.

Her staff started playing his debut track in the waiting room before she even had a chance to ask them not to.

“Have you heard this?” a makeup artist asked one day, dabbing concealer under her eyes. “This new JYP soloist. He is insane. My little sister is obsessed.”

Karina looked at her own reflection as his voice filtered in from the speakers.

“Yeah,” she said softly. “I know him.”

Outside, the world spun on. Schedules piled. aespa kept climbing. He did too. Interviews, variety shows, special stages. Collabs with other idols she passed in hallways but never stopped to talk to.

They did not speak.

At first, it was because everything was raw and every notification with his name felt like a blade.

Then, slowly, it was because she did not know what to say anymore.

She watched from afar as he navigated the same storm she did, but on a parallel track.

When reporters asked him about his time as an SM trainee, he smiled and gave neutral answers. When fans asked if any of his songs were about someone specific, he laughed and said, “Aren’t they always?”

Sometimes in the car, between schedules, she would pull up fancams of his performances. Alone. No screaming fans in the background. Just him and the stage.

He looked free.

It hurt like hell.

It also made something inside her crack in a way that felt… necessary.

She started seeing a therapist.

At first, it was for “stress.” The company liked to pretend that was a progressive move. Idols taking care of their mental health made for good PR.

Karina told the therapist about schedules, about pressure, about panic.

Eventually, she told her about a boy on a playground and the first time she had said “mine” in her head.

She told her about the buzz she got from his attention. About the way fear had wrapped around that buzz like barbed wire. About how every girl who looked at him felt like a thief, even before they did anything.

“I thought loving someone meant never letting go,” she said once, voice hoarse. “I thought if I held on tight enough, they could not leave.”

“What did you think would happen if he did?” the therapist asked.

She thought about it. Really thought about it.

“I would disappear,” she whispered. “I did not know who I was without him.”

“Who are you now?” the therapist asked.

Karina did not have an answer.

Not yet.

—

Growth was slow and ugly.

It came in little realizations. In late night thoughts that made her cringe at herself. In remembering arguments and seeing her own words from his perspective.

She remembered the hospital room, her voice planting ideas about signs and college. Remembered the way his brows had furrowed. The way relief and shame had warred in her chest when he chose university over the practice room.

She remembered every time she had used “I am just worried” as a way to steer him away from things that scared her, not him.

She remembered his face on that rooftop when he had asked, “Can you be my fan?”

She cried, sometimes. In bathrooms with the fan on. In vans with her face turned to the window. On her therapist’s couch, when the facade finally cracked and she said, “I was selfish,” out loud for the first time.

“You were scared,” the therapist said. “And you coped with that fear by clinging. It does not excuse the ways you hurt him. But understanding why you did it is the first step to changing.”

“Is it too late?” Karina asked once. “To change? To… fix anything?”

“For him?” the therapist asked. “Or for you?”

“Both.”

“For him, I do not know,” the therapist said honestly. “That depends on where he is now and what he wants. For you? It is never too late to be better.”

She clung to that.

aespa’s schedules did not slow down. She did not get a neat sabbatical for self discovery. Growth had to happen in the cracks between comebacks, in tired moments in hotel rooms, in quiet talks with her members who had seen enough to know something was wrong.

“You are hard on yourself,” Winter said once, sitting cross–legged on the bed with a sheet mask on. “And on him, I think.”

“I am not anymore,” Karina said. “He is… gone.”

“He is not dead,” Ningning called from the bathroom. “He is just across town on a bigger stage.”

Giselle threw a pillow at the door. “Insensitive.”

“I am just saying,” Ningning protested, head peeking around the frame. “If you still like him, you could talk to him. We do collab stages with JYP. It is not like he is on another planet.”

Karina stared at her phone.

She still had his number. Of course she did. She had hovered over it more times than she could count, thumb shaking over the call button.

“What would I even say?” she asked.

“Sorry,” Winter said simply. “And then… whatever else comes after.”

Easier said than done.

—

They saw each other again for the first time two years later.

Not by design.

It was at a year–end music festival. One of those sprawling events where every group, soloist, and their stylists congregated backstage in a massive, chaotic maze of hallways and dressing rooms.

aespa performed third in the lineup. He performed fifth.

She knew his set time. She had checked the schedule unconsciously the moment they had arrived.

“Do not freak out,” Giselle murmured, bumping her shoulder as they waited in the wings. “You do not have to talk to him if you do not want to.”

Karina focused on the stage. The roar of the crowd. The familiar rush of adrenaline.

Their performance passed in a blur of movement and sound. When they came off, hearts pounding, she barely registered the staff crowding around them with towels and water bottles.

“Great job,” their manager said, voice distant in her ears. “Stay nearby. We have interviews later.”

Karina drifted toward the corridor where the monitors were set up, intending to watch the next stage on autopilot like she usually did.

His face filled the screen.

The cheers were deafening.

He stepped onto the stage alone, bathed in sharp white light, wearing a fitted black outfit that made his lines look even cleaner. The intro to his latest single thrummed through the floor.

He smiled at the crowd. The same smile he used to give her over convenience store ramyeon. More polished now. More controlled. But underneath, she could still see the boy who had once balanced banana milk cartons on his head.

He performed like the stage belonged to him.

Every move precise. Every note steady. Expression alive, drawing the camera in. At the bridge, his voice cracked slightly on a sustained note, not out of pitch but out of emotion, and the crowd roared.

Karina’s throat closed.

He was doing exactly what he had said he would. He was chasing his dream. For himself. Without her.

He finished to a wall of sound.

“Please look forward to more from me,” he said into the mic, bowing. “Thank you.”

He turned to walk off stage.

And saw her.

She had not realized she had drifted so close to the entrance. For a second, it was just the two of them in that narrow space, separated by five meters and years of history.

He stopped.

Their eyes met.

His expression flickered. Surprise. Something like pain. Something like… softness. It passed too quickly to name.

He nodded once, a small, polite gesture, then moved on, swallowed by staff.

Her chest ached.

Later, in the chaos of the dressing room, she stared at her phone again.

Her thumb hovered over his contact.

This time, she pressed call.

It rang. Once. Twice. Three times.

She almost hung up.

Then he answered.

“Hello?”

His voice was deeper than she remembered and exactly the same.

Her own caught in her throat. For a moment, she could not speak.

“Hello?” he repeated, cautious. “Who is this?”

“Me,” she forced out. “It is… Karina.”

Silence. Then a faint, disbelieving laugh.

“Jimin,” he corrected automatically.

Her heart twisted.

“Yeah,” he said after a beat. “Hi.”

“Hi.” The word felt absurdly small.

They stood on opposite sides of the same building, phones pressed to their ears, separated by walls and people and the things they had never said.

“I saw your stage,” she blurted.

“Yeah?” He sounded wary.

“It was… incredible,” she said, fists clenching to keep her voice steady. “You were… I mean, you are always good, but… you looked… happy.”

He exhaled slowly.

“Thank you,” he said.

The words that had sat in her chest for two years crowded her throat. Apologies. Explanations. Half formed sentences.

“I am sorry,” she managed finally. “For… everything.”

Silence stretched.

“I know,” he said quietly. “I could tell. From… the outside. From how you are now.”

She blinked. “What do you mean?”

“You talk about other people differently in interviews,” he said. “About your members. About fans. About… old trainees. You used to sound like the world was something you had to keep in your hands or it would run away. Now you sound like you are willing to share.”

Heat burned behind her eyes.

“You watch my interviews?” she asked, stupidly.

“Sometimes,” he admitted. “Old habits.”

She sat down on the nearest chair, knees weak.

“I was scared,” she said. “Back then. More scared than I can explain. I did not know how to keep you without… keeping you.” She laughed, shaky. “That sounds insane.”

“It sounds human,” he said. “Does not make it right. But… I get it a little more now.”

“I pushed you away from SM,” she whispered. “In the hospital. I made it sound like concern. I was concerned. But I was also relieved. Because if you stayed with me there, I was terrified everyone else would see what I saw in you and take you.”

He did not respond right away.

“I know,” he said eventually.

“You do?”

“I thought about it a lot too,” he said. “Therapists are dangerous like that. They make you replay everything.” He chuckled weakly.

“You went too?” she asked.

“Yeah. Different reasons. Same couches.” He paused. “I was angry at you for a long time. For… making me feel small. For making my dreams feel like a threat to you. But I was also angry at myself. For letting your fear weigh more than my own desires.”

“I am so fucking sorry,” she said, voice cracking. “I do not expect you to forgive me or… or to want anything to do with me. I just… needed you to know that I know. That I see what I did. That I am trying not to be that person anymore.”

He sighed.

“Jimin,” he said slowly. “Look. I… I forgave you a while ago.”

She almost dropped the phone.

“What?”

“Forgiveness is for me too, you know,” he said. “I did not want to carry around that much resentment. It was heavy. We were kids. We fucked up. You were selfish. I was passive. We both hurt each other.”

Her vision blurred.

“That does not mean we can just go back,” he added gently. “I do not even know who you are now. You do not know me.”

“I want to,” she said, the words out before she could stop them. “Know you. Again. Not the version in my head. The actual you.”

He was quiet.

“I do not know if that is a good idea,” he said honestly. “Our patterns were… not great. I do not want to fall back into them.”

“I do not either,” she said quickly. “That is the last thing I want.”

Footsteps echoed outside her dressing room. Someone called her name. She ignored it.

“How about this,” she said. “Not… dating. Not yet. Maybe not ever. Just… one conversation. In person. Somewhere we are not being watched. No expectations. If after that you decide you never want to see me again, I will respect it. I swear.”

He let out a breath that sounded like it had been trapped for a long time.

“Where?” he asked.

—

They met at a small, out of the way music festival two weeks later.

No idol lineups. No cameras. Just indie bands on rickety stages, food trucks, and people in mismatched outfits dancing in muddy fields.

He wore a plain cap and a mask, which he took off once they were swallowed by the crowd. She did the same.

Nobody looked twice. It was almost disorienting.

They stood awkwardly at the edge of the main stage area for a moment, both at a loss.

Then he nodded toward a patch of grass.

“Sit?” he suggested.

“Yeah.”

They sat.

The band on stage was mid song, some dreamy track about lost summers. The sun was beginning to set, painting the sky in colors that did not look real.

“I used to hate festivals,” she said suddenly. “Too many people.”

“You are an idol,” he pointed out. “You are people’s festival.”

“That is different.”

He smiled faintly. “I like this kind.”

“Me too,” she admitted.

They listened to the music for a while. It filled the space between them so they did not have to fill it themselves.

“I did not support you,” she said eventually. “Not when it mattered.”

He did not argue.

“I want to,” she went on. “Now. Not because I am scared you will leave if I do not. Not because I think I have to keep you. Just because… I like seeing you on stage. Even if it is not my company’s logo behind you.”

He glanced at her, something like surprise and cautious hope flickering through his eyes.

“I watched your last comeback,” he admitted. “The one with the crazy dance break. You looked… free. Less like you were trying to prove you belonged. More like you knew you did.”

She thought of the nights on her therapist’s couch, of the members’ support, of the long road from that girl who had needed one boy to define her worth.

“I am starting to know,” she said softly. “Who I am. Outside of you.”

“That is good,” he said.

They were quiet again.

“Do you… hate me?” she asked, because she needed to hear it out loud.

“No,” he said. “I did. For a while. But not now. I do not think I could ever fully hate you.”

“Do you…” Her mouth was dry. “Still… love me?”

He stared at the sky.

“I do not know,” he said honestly. “I love who you were to me. I care about who you are now. I am… scared of what we could be if we are not careful.”

She nodded, throat tight.

“Me too.”

“But,” he added, turning to look at her fully, “I am willing to… see. Slowly. As friends. As… something that does not try to own each other this time.”

Her heart stuttered.

“You are?”

“On one condition,” he said.

She held her breath.

“We promise to be each other’s fans,” he said. “Not managers. Not puppet masters. Just… people in the crowd. Cheering. Even when we do not understand every decision.”

It was simple. It was everything they had never managed to do before.

She smiled, small but real.

“Deal,” she said, and held out her hand.

He looked at it for a second, then took it.

The music swelled. The crowd cheered for a band that did not know who they were. The sky darkened, stars peeking through.

They sat there, hands clasped not like chains, but like something they both could let go of if they needed to.

For the first time, love did not feel like possession.

It felt like choosing.

—

Two years later, fans lost their minds when SM and JYP announced a special joint stage for the year–end festival.

“A once–in–a–lifetime collaboration,” the posters read. “Two generations of excellence on one stage.”

Online, people guessed.

BoA and some JYP veteran? NCT and Stray Kids? Red Velvet and Twice?

No one guessed it right.

When the lights went down and the VCR ended, the opening beat of a brand new, unreleased track shook the arena.

Karina stepped into the light first.

She wore a black and silver outfit that cut clean lines along her body, hair pulled back, eyes rimmed in glittering shadow. The crowd screamed.

On the second verse, as she hit a turn, another voice cut in over the track.

Familiar. Powerful.

Y/N walked out from the opposite side, mic in hand.

For a heartbeat, the arena went silent in shock.

Then it erupted.

They moved together like they had been doing this for years. Because they had. Just not in front of this many people.

His voice slid under hers in harmonies that felt inevitable. Her footwork complemented his, sharp where he was smooth. There was tension in their choreography, a push and pull that told a story without hitting anyone over the head.

The lyrics talked about fear. About breaking chains. About letting go enough to be held properly. About standing on different stages and still calling out to each other.

When the final chorus hit, they met in the center, backs almost touching, gazes turned outward to the crowd.

They did not need to face each other to show how far they had come.

The last note rang out.

They bowed.

Backstage, amid the chaos of congratulations and staff herding them to interviews, they found a quiet corner.

Karina’s heart was still racing. Not from nerves. From something like joy.

“You were crazy out there,” she said, grinning despite herself.

“So were you,” he replied. “As always.”

She hesitated, then stepped a little closer.

“Thank you,” she said. “For… letting me share that stage with you.”

“Thank you for inviting me,” he countered. “It was your idea, right?”

She shrugged, suddenly shy. “It felt… right.”

He smiled, soft.

“It did.”

They stood there in comfortable silence for a moment, the echo of the crowd still buzzing in their bones.

Then she leaned in, close enough that no mic could pick it up, and whispered, “I used to be scared you would leave me. Now I am just grateful you came back.”

His eyes softened.

“I did not come back,” he said quietly. “We both just finally walked in the same direction.”

He held out his hand, palm up, not demanding, not pleading.

She took it.

Not because she was afraid he would vanish if she did not.

But because she wanted to.

Love, this time, did not feel like a cage.

It felt like a stage big enough for both of them. 

—

There it was again. The constant feeling that he was being watched even while going about his daily routine. 

Y/N was a temp hired at SM Entertainment to help with setting up the shows for Aespa’s new performance. He had to constantly be at new venues to help set up the props and decor. While the pay was not nearly enough, it barely covered his living expenses during the summer, which was all he needed. It was all grunt work that Y/N had hoped to leave behind when he got into university, but it seemed like he was stuck sweating bullets behind the scenes of these idols.

Ever since he had been hired two weeks ago, Y/N felt that someone was watching him. Initially, he assumed it was just the managers making sure that the temps weren’t slacking off, but after the first few days, they had disappeared, but the feeling did not. It was especially strong today, and Y/N knew he had to get to the bottom of it. 

—----------------------

Backstage, it was as crowded and hectic as usual. Stylists were running all over the place to get the makeup just right, not that the Aespa girls needed much, and the tech team was making sure the mics were in working order. Y/N, knowing that he had no place among them, continued his labor of moving the set pieces on stage. While picking up a particularly red ball, he felt himself on pins and needles. Making sure not to make it obvious, Y/N set down the ball and spun his neck as if he was cracking it like usual. Looking around, the only person Y/N could spot was Karina on the stage with him. 

Well, that doesn’t make any sense, mused Y/N.

Karina should have been backstage getting her makeup touched up for the hundredth time before being able to go on stage, and yet here she was, wandering aimlessly around the stage as if she had no care in the world. Which, now that Y/N thought about it, could very well be the case. 

Ever since their debut, Aespa had been making headlines and topping the charts like no other K-pop group. Karina, in particular, had drawn the gaze of men all around the world, with Y/N being no exception. While he would like to think only pure thoughts and he only hoped the best for the idols, Y/N knew in his heart that there was one big reason he was a fan of Karina. Well, two that he thought of it. 

While Karina’s breasts may not have been the largest in the industry, they were certainly among his favorites, especially since he got to see them so often in the ridiculous stage outfits the SM insisted on. 

Today was no different as Karina was supposed to be in an all black outfit wearing loose high-waisted pants that hid her ass from the world, which was a loss to his fellow men, and a black suit jacket over a tube top. This was all he should have seen. Instead, Karina was walking around the stage wearing just her tiny tube top and the pants as if her tits bouncing around with every step were of no concern to her. 

“Hard at work today, are we Y/N?” 

Up until today, Y/N did not have a single interaction with Karina, so imagine his surprise when she addressed him by name. Trying to get his brain to kick back into gear, all Y/N could muster was a desperate nod.

Karina's laughter was like bells jingling as she went on, “You usually act so composed around everyone, what are you acting shy for now?”

“Uhhh. I’m sorry, Ms. Karina, I just did not expect you to know my name, that's all.”

“Oh come on, Y/N, stop with the formalities, you’re going to make me feel old. It's not like we are that far apart in age, and I will have you know that I try to keep track of everyone helping make Aespa a success. Especially someone who has been staring at me from the moment they got hired.” 

Now that right there caught Y/N off guard. He had always assumed that he was being discreet with his glances, because really, when you are backstage with some of the most beautiful women in the world, it’s fucking hard not to stare. Even now, he had a difficult time looking her in the eyes when he knew just a quick glance down would reveal some of the best cleavage in the industry, with the tube top literally designed to show off her chest. 

Sweating bullets, Y/N through clenched teeth mustered out, “I’m not sure what you mean, Karina. I will apologize in advance if anything I’ve done has offended you, but please let me go just this once. I really can’t afford to lose this gig.”

“Really, Y/N? You think I cornered you just to reveal your little secret?” said Karina while crossing her arms under her chest, making her tits almost spill out of the already tiny top. “I will have you know that I quite enjoy the looks I get. I know how sexy I am, but affirmation never hurt anyone.”

Now realizing that maybe he was not completely screwed as he originally expected, Y/N took a look around and realized that Karina had somehow maneuvered him out of the line of cameras all over the stage. Not only that, but she was slowly but surely shortening the distance between them, up to where now they were almost chest to chest, and Y/N had to look down to see her, and what a view it was. Everyone knew just how impressive her tits were, but her face drew him in like never before. The sultry eye shadow highlighted her eyes, making them look like she was peering into his soul, and her plump, juicy lips looked like they were just made to be kissed.

Watching those incredible lips turn into a smirk, Y/N knew he had been caught. 

“Instead of just staring, why don't you be a man and do something about it?”

Pulling the courage from God knows where, Y/N bent his head and kissed Karina like a lover coming home. 

Now, Y/N knew the cliches, but he swore that her lips truly were the sweetest thing he had ever tasted in his life. He had hoped for it to be just a peck, so that he could leave with his dignity still intact, but it felt like leaving would be a sin.

“God, Karina. How can you be the best thing I’ve ever tasted?” sighed Y/N, pulling back to get some air in his lungs.

With her now trademark smirk, Karina simply whispered, “Why don’t you come over later, and I can show you a whole new world,” before turning around with an extra sway of her hips. All Y/N could do was watch in regret as her body moved before he was able to get a feel.

—----------------------

The show went off without a hitch, but all Y/N could do was sit backstage and stare at Karina. If he thought she looked good before, during her performance, she was simply divine. Her long, shapely legs were taut with muscles built from hours of practice, and the blazer did nothing to cover the beauty of her naturally endowed body. Every time she looked at the crowd, they went crazy with cheers from the fans. During the performance, Y/N tried his best to make eye contact with Karina to get even a hint of what she was thinking about. Instead, all he got was the sheer focus she was putting into her performance. 

Even after the show, he desperately tried to get her attention with the hope that the offer from earlier still stood. Instead, it was all in vain as the managers quickly ushered Aespa in the designated vans and sped off to their apartments. 

After a deep sigh, Y/N resolved himself to going back to his tiny apartment and simply rubbing one out. His imagination and the kiss from earlier would have to suffice as his material for today and the coming days, since there was no way he could forget about it. 

Taking a look at his phone just to figure out when he would get home, Y/N saw a text from an unknown number.

838-11, Daerim 1(il)-dong, Yeongdeungpo-gu, Seoul. I’ll be waiting for you.

Y/N took off without giving it a simple fucking thought. He knew it had to be Karina, and he was not going to let her get away so easily this time. 

“Get me to this address as soon as possible, and the tip will be more than you’ve made all day,” Y/N spewed out while getting into the back of a taxi, not caring that it would drain his meager savings. Right now, the only thing on his mind was getting to the apartment as soon as possible. 

Getting to the apartment, Y/N acknowledged that he may have been a little overzealous. His first obstacle ended up being the doorman looking him up as if he were a vagrant trying to disturb the peace. 

“Hey, man, I’m here to visit a friend on the 3rd floor,” projected Y/N with as much confidence as a man in his position possibly could. The doorman, having a good 4 inches and easily a hundred pounds on him, did not help his case in the slightest.

“Unless you can get the resident to come down and verify that, you are not getting anywhere near this building.”

Pulling out his phone, Y/N thought about how he could best word begging Karina to come get him. Realizing that he didn’t really have much to lose, he took his phone and, through shaking hands, called the number. 

The line did not even ring for a single bell before Karina answered with a simple “Well, took you long enough, now hurry up and put Sung Hoon on the line.”

Gingerly handing his phone over, Y/N witnessed the man melting like ice cream on a summer day. Even though he could not hear Karina, he could imagine her sweet-talking the man into letting him upstairs. And to no one's surprise, Karina got her way and Y/N was quickly ushered over to the elevator.

Y/N tried to keep his imagination from running wild, but every second that the elevator took to get upstairs was another moment he had to spend thinking of anything and everything that could happen. 

Approaching her apartment, Y/N steeled himself before knocking on her door, which opened right up for him. Taking a step inside, it took everything within him not to drop to his knees right there on the plush carpet. 

On the couch, lounging was Karina in a way that even his wildest imagination could not fathom. She was sitting on a plush white sofa in nothing more than a set of the sexiest black lingerie that Y/N had ever seen.

“Don’t just stand there! Come in and close the door behind you, Y/N”

Without taking his eyes off of her, Y/N reached out behind him to shut the door. 

She kept taking, but at this point, Y/N’s brain had been overclocked to a whole new end. All he could do was swallow his saliva and take her in. The bra pushed up her already incredible cleavage, making it look like a caveman could go exploring in that ravine. Her light brown nipples, which Y/N noticed were already hard, were poking through the bra just begging to be taken into his hands. Her legs, which went on for miles, led to her barely covered pussy. The black lace panties did everything in their power to show it all off. 

Looking back at her lips, Y/N saw that she had stopped taking, which was in his best interest. He had not heard a single thing she said after he closed the damn door. Making sure not to stumble over himself, Y/N tried his best to calmly walk over to her, but failed miserably as he broke into a flat sprint. 

Before going for her body, the first thing Y/N went for were her lips, which had left him starving all day. This kiss was nothing like the soft, loving kiss of prior. Y/N made sure Karina felt all the lust that had been building up. He felt Karina stiffen up under him, but he pressed forward into her mouth. Karina, now having come to her senses, kissed him back in equal fervor, with their tongues jousting for position. Cupping her face, Y/N pulled her up from the sofa without breaking contact. 

Glassy-eyed, Karina pulled back from him, panting.

“Put those muscles to good use, pretty boy, and take me to my bed.”

Cupping her juicy ass, Y/N lifted Karina like she weighed nothing. With her legs wrapped around his waist, Y/N dove into her slender neck. Throwing her head back, Karina let out the breathy moans. Just her voice was enough for Y/N to make sure he left his mark. 

Blindly making his way through her apartment, Y/N kept his lips on her pulse, making sure that it blossomed red. 

Finally pushing open her door, the only thing Y/N had eyes for was her bed, which she kept prim and proper, much like herself. 

Giving her one last nip, Y/N threw Karina onto the bed, watching her covered tits bounce like they were trying to spill out. 

“During the performance, I was scared that they could all see how horny I was. I’ve been waiting for this all day. Don’t you dare make me wait longer.

With a command like that, who was Y/N to resist?

Working his kisses up her legs, he finally reached her covered pussy. Kissing it over her panties, Y/N pulled them to the side and dove in like a man starving. 

“Fuuuck, just like that, Y/N. Taste what you could've had all summer if you worked up the courage.”

Choosing to ignore that last part, Y/N focused on her pleasure and drove his tongue deeper into her pussy, which was leaking like a fountain. While keeping his tongue moving, he reached for her panties and ripped them off her hips like paper, giving him full access to her hard little clit. 

Moving his lips up just a touch, he enjoyed his new access point while filling her greedy pussy with his index and middle fingers.

“Mhhh, fuck.”

“Don’t stop. Don’t you dare stop,” was all Karina could muster before threading her hands through Y/N’s hair and pulling him into her pussy. 

Enjoying having the nation's princess melting around him, Y/N's fingers went searching in her pussy. Her G-spot was so easy to find with her sharp intake of air.

“N-no, not there. Please, anywhere but there.”

Smiling over her slit, Y/N attacked her with a newfound fervor. He pulled back and slammed his fingers into her pussy as fast as he physically could. His head even left his favorite spot right between her thighs to now reach up to her tits, pushing her bra up. 

“Wa-wait Y/N, I’m too close. Let me suck your dick. I can’t cum this quick.”

“I want to shove my dick down your throat, but I think making you lose your mind isn’t something I can give up so soon,” was his response as he latched onto her left nipple, playfully biting it, expecting some token resistance, especially since she kept her tits covered usually. 

Instead, what he got was her pussy pushing his fingers out as her body went rigid. 

Y/N watched in amazement as her mouth was left in an open scream while her pussy gushed and squirted across the room. 

Licking his fingers clean, Y/N told her in amazement, “I guess it makes sense that with a rack like that, your nipples would be the most sensitive part of your body.”

Karina, now coming back down to earth, started Y/N down, making him realize that he had disobeyed her direct orders. However, she couldn't argue with the results. Still, he let Karina push him off the bed so that he was standing up. 

Now on her knees, Karina reached behind her to unclip her bra, throwing it to some corner of the room. 

“I can’t believe that even after all that you still have these stupid pants on.”

As if to rectify the situation, Karina unbuckled his pants, pulling them and his boxers down in one swift motion.

Y/N’s cock sprang out like a coiled snake and hit her right on the forehead, laying flat as if it had finally found its natural resting spot.

“Did it really have to be this fucking big?” Karina, biting her lips, pulled her face back before wrapping her tiny hand around it, giving it a few tentative strokes. 

“I’m sure an idol like you has seen hundreds of cocks. Why’re you acting shy now?”

“Those are just some limp dick executives. I haven’t seen a monster like this yet,” pouted Karina before placing a kiss on the tip. 

“A kiss is not going to be nearly enough, darling. Why don't you put that talented throat to use and learn to pleasure an actual man?”

Taking his advice to heart, Karina dove right into the deep end. With no warm-up or experience, Karina shoved his dick as deep as it would go. 

Y/N watched in awe as Karina got half his dick down her throat before choking and sputtering. Using her head to help pull her back, Y/N watched tears roll down her cheeks, and saliva dripped down her lips.

“That was way worse than Gigi makes it sound like during her stories.”

Stroking her cheeks with his thumb, Y/N made sure she knew he still appreciated her. “I’m sure she has a lot of practice, but don’t you worry, I’ll make sure you get caught up to that slut in no time.”

Karina, now knowing that she couldn’t take it all in one shot, took his cock inch by inch. She looked at him through her lashes as if begging him to help her, which he gladly did. 

Once she reached halfway down his cock again, Y/N placed his hands on her head and slowly pushed her further into his hips. 

Seeing her struggle bit by bit and the drool seeping from the corners of her mouth, Y/N knew he had to do something.

“Shhh, it’s ok, honey. You’re doing wonderful.” Distracting her with his words, Y/N took his right hand off her head and snuck it down to her nipple. 

The second he gave it a small pinch, Karina gasped in pleasure. That momentary opening was all he needed. As her throat opened to gasp, Y/N stuffed the rest of his cock into her mouth. 

“What a good girl you are,” grunted Y/N as he bottomed out in her throat, holding her there.

After a few seconds, Y/N finally let go of her head, letting Karina pull back, gasping for air.

“You can train my throat all you want later, but I can’t wait any fucking longer.”

Putting her arms on the bed, Karina got up and looked over her shoulder, “Come claim your prize, Y/N.”

Lining up his now slippery, wet cock, thanks to her throat, Y/N pushed into her waiting pussy. Feeling her hot, velvety core, it took all of Y/N’s willpower not to push it in with one smooth stroke. 

“W-wait Y/N. It’s too fucking big. There’s no way it’s gonna fit,” whimpered Karina as her pussy pulsed around Y/N’s cock.

Leaning over her back, Y/N moved Karina’s hair out of the way and started to kiss her neck slowly. 

Now rubbing her clit to help her relax, Y/N whispered, “You’re doing great, honey, just a few more inches.” Knowing damn well that he was barely halfway in.

Pushing in inch by inch, Y/N finally bottomed out with his hips flush to her ass and just had to admire the view. He had a world-famous idol twitching around his cock, begging him to start moving. And move he did. Barely pulling back halfway, Y/N started his slow strokes into her. 

Thanking gravity for all its gifts, Y/N kept his pace up while moving his hands to her hanging tits. He wasn’t going nearly fast enough for them to be bouncing around, but he couldn’t just let these gifts hang about. 

“You know, for a woman who has some of the best tits in the industry, you sure spend a lot of time making sure they’re always covered. Like, come on, you should have easily beaten Eunbi at waterbomb, but instead you did nothing to advertise these tits.”

Rolling her crinkled nipples between his fingers, Y/N waited for a response. 

Seeing her defiant look, Y/N rolled his eyes before slamming her into her particularly hard, making her moan beneath him. 

Seeing that she wasn’t going to dignify him with a response, Y/N moved his hands to her hips and started to pick up speed and move for real. Using his strength to keep her pinned in place, Y/N started slamming into her ass, watching it ripple. 

“Pant. Pant. Y/N, can you. Please slow down. I’m —” SMACK! Y/N slapped Karina’s ass, making it bounce and redden. 

“I’ve had enough of this slow-paced bullshit,” growled Y/N. 

Pushing her head into the bed, Y/N started to fuck Karina from behind like a man on a mission. 

All he could hear from her was her deafened moans, which was exactly what he wanted. 

Feeling her pussy tighten around him like a vice, Y/N knew that she was about to cum. 

Slapping her on the ass once again, Y/N guided her through it, “That’s it, you little slut. Cum on my cock like you’ve been waiting months to do.” Hearing that was all it took. 

With a keening sound, Karina shattered around his cock.

Fucking her through her second orgasm of the night, Y/N felt his own impending doom and knew this was perfect. 

Pulling her hair, Y/N tilted Karina’s head back. “I’m going to cum right in your tight little pussy. I’m going to fill you up so much you’re leaking during your next performance.”

“Oh god, yes, Y/N. Put a baby in me.”

Hearing Karina asking to be bred was all it took. He painted her insides white just as she came down from her high.

Panting and out of breath, Y/N pulled both of them into the bed and slipped under the covers. 

Karina, with her sun-kissed skin and tousled dark hair, wore a flowy white dress that caught the breeze, while Winter, her fiery red curls tied in a loose bun, sported a bright yellow sundress. They were a striking pair, their contrasting looks drawing admiring glances as they made their way through the crowded bar. The music pulsed with energy, a mix of reggae and pop that seemed to vibrate through the very air.

They found a spot at the bar, ordering colorful drinks with tiny umbrellas and laughing as they clinked glasses. The bartender, a friendly guy with a wide smile, chatted with them briefly before moving on to serve other customers. Karina leaned against the bar, her eyes scanning the crowd. She loved people-watching, imagining the stories behind the faces around her. Winter, meanwhile, was already swaying to the music, her drink held high as she hummed along to the tune.

It wasn’t long before a figure caught Karina’s attention. Across the bar, a man stood alone, his gaze locked on them. He was tall and lean, with dark hair that fell just above his shoulders and a confident smile that seemed to light up the room. There was something magnetic about him, an aura that drew Karina in despite herself. She felt a flutter in her chest, a mix of curiosity and anticipation.

You began to make your way through the crowd, movements graceful and deliberate. Karina’s heart quickened as you approached, your deep green eyes meeting hers. “Mind if I join you?” You asked, voice smooth and low.

Karina glanced at Winter, who was now fully engrossed in the music, her hips swaying to the beat. “Sure,” she replied, gesturing to the empty stool beside her. “What’s your name?”

You stated your name as you start sliding onto the stool. “And you are?”

“Karina,” she answered, extending her hand. His grip was firm, his touch sending a tingle up her arm. “This is my friend Winter.”

You nodded in Winter’s direction, your gaze lingering for a moment before returning to Karina. “Beautiful names for beautiful women,” you remarked, his smile widening.

Karina felt a flush creep up her cheeks, but she played it off with a laugh. “Smooth talker, aren’t you?”

You chuckled, raising your hands in mock surrender. “Just stating facts. So, what brings you two to this little slice of paradise?”

“Vacation,” Karina replied, taking a sip of her drink. “Needed a break from the real world.”

“I can relate,” your eyes glinting with a hint of mystery. “Sometimes, you just need to escape, you know?”

The conversation flowed easily, your charm and wit keeping Karina engaged. Winter eventually joined in, her laughter adding to the lively dynamic. As the night wore on, the bar grew more crowded, the music louder, the energy more electric. You leaned in closer, his voice barely audible over the noise. “You two seem like you know how to have a good time. Want to continue the party somewhere more private?”

Karina exchanged a glance with Winter, who raised an eyebrow, a mischievous smile playing on her lips. “Like where?” Karina asked, her pulse quickening.

“My place,” you replied as your gaze intense. “It’s not far from here. I promise, it’ll be worth it.”

There was a moment of hesitation, a silent understanding passing between the two friends. They had come on this vacation to let loose, to embrace the unknown. And you, with your enigmatic smile and magnetic presence, was an opportunity they couldn’t resist.

“Alright,” Winter said, draining the last of her drink. “Lead the way.”

Your smile was triumphant as you slid off the stool, gesturing for them to follow. The three of you navigated through the crowded bar, the music fading into the night as they stepped outside. The moon hung low in the sky, casting a silvery light over the beach. You led them along a winding path, the sound of the waves growing fainter as they moved inland.

Your house was a sleek, modern structure nestled among the palm trees, its windows glowing softly in the darkness. You held the door open, gesturing for them to enter. The interior was just as impressive as the exterior, with clean lines, minimalist decor, and large windows that offered glimpses of the ocean.

“Make yourselves comfortable,” you said, your voice warm as you closed the door behind them. “Can I get you anything to drink?”

“Wine would be nice,” Winter replied, sinking into a plush couch. Karina remained standing, her eyes taking in the surroundings, her mind racing with anticipation.

You disappeared into the kitchen, returning moments later with a bottle of red wine and three glasses. You poured for them, his movements fluid and practiced. “To new friends and unforgettable nights,” you said, raising your glass.

“To that,” Karina echoed, clinking her glass against yours. Winter did the same, her eyes sparkling with excitement.

As they sipped their wine, the tension in the room thickened, the air charged with unspoken desires. You set your glass down, your gaze shifting between the two women. “I have to admit,” you began, your voice low and husky, “I’ve been looking forward to this all night.”

Karina’s heart pounded in her chest, her breath coming in short gasps. She knew what was coming, what they all wanted. Winter leaned forward, her expression hungry, her lips parting slightly.

You stepped closer, your presence dominating the space. You reached out, your fingers brushing Karina’s cheek, your touch sending shivers down her spine. “You’re even more beautiful up close,” you murmured, your lips hovering inches from hers.

Before she could respond, Winter was there, her hand tangling in your hair, pulling you into a deep, passionate kiss. Karina watched, her pulse racing, as Winter’s hands roamed over your body, her movements bold and uninhibited. Your hands slid down Winter’s back, your touch firm and possessive, as you returned her kiss with equal fervor.

Karina felt a heat build within her, a longing that demanded to be satisfied. She stepped closer, her hands trembling as she reached out, her fingers brushing the hem of your shirt. You broke away from Winter, your gaze locking with Karina’s, your breath coming in ragged gasps.

“You’re not the only one who’s been looking forward to this,” Karina whispered, her voice barely audible.

Your smile was wicked as you pulled her into your arms, your lips crashing against hers. Your kiss was hungry, tongue delving deep, tasting her, claiming her. Karina moaned, her hands clutching at your shirt, pulling it over your head, her fingers tracing the contours of your chest.

Winter watched, her eyes dark with desire, as she began to unbutton her dress, letting it fall to the floor. She was a vision, her skin glowing in the soft light, her curves inviting and sensual. Your gaze flickered between the two women, your expression raw with need.

“Both of you,” you growled as your voice thick with desire. “Together.”

Karina’s heart raced as she stepped back, her dress pooling at her feet. She was naked before you, her body on display, her skin flushed with anticipation. Winter joined her, her hand sliding into Karina’s, their fingers intertwining as they stood before you, their breaths coming in unison.

Your eyes raked over them, gaze hungry, desire palpable. You reached out, fingers brushing Karina’s shoulder, trailing down her arm, your touch sending sparks through her body. “You’re both so fucking beautiful,” you murmured, voice hoarse.

Winter stepped closer, her lips brushing your ear, her breath hot against your skin. “Show us how much you want us,” she whispered, her voice a sultry invitation.

Your hands moved to the button of your jeans, your movements slow and deliberate as you undid them, letting them fall to the floor. You are now hard, cock thick and throbbing, your desire undeniable. Karina’s breath caught in her throat, her body aching for you, for the touch of you skin against hers.

You stepped closer, hands sliding around Karina’s waist, pulling her against you, your lips capturing hers in a fierce kiss. Winter pressed against your back, her hands roaming over your chest, her touch bold and demanding. Your hands moved down Karina’s body, fingers tracing the curve of her hips, sliding between her thighs, your touch sending waves of pleasure through her.

“Fuck,” Karina gasped, her head falling back as OC’s fingers delved deeper, his touch expert and knowing. Winter’s lips trailed down your neck, her teeth grazing your skin, her hands moving to your cock, stroking your warm rod firmly, her touch sending a shudder through your body.

“Both of you,” you groaned, voice thick with need. “I want both of you.”

Karina’s eyes met Winter’s, their gazes locking, their desire mirroring each other’s. Winter smiled, her hand sliding from your cock to Karina’s hip, pulling her closer, their bodies pressing together, their skin electric with anticipation.

Your hands moved between them, touch guiding them, fingers teasing, your lips trailing kisses along Karina’s neck, breath hot against her skin. Winter’s mouth found Karina’s, their lips meeting in a passionate kiss, their tongues tangling, their bodies moving in sync.

Your hands slid down, fingers brushing their cores, touch sending shivers through them. “So wet,” you murmured, voice a husky whisper. “Both of you, so fucking wet for me.”

Karina moaned, her body arching into your touch, her hands clutching at your shoulders. Winter’s breath came in ragged gasps, her body trembling, her desire overwhelming. Your fingers moved between them, your touch expert, lips trailing kisses along their necks, breath hot against their skin.

“Now,” Winter gasped, her voice desperate. “We need you now.”

Your smile was wicked as you stepped back, hands gesturing to the couch. “Let’s make this unforgettable.”

Karina and Winter moved as one, their bodies pressing against the cushions, their skin glowing in the soft light. You stood before them, gaze raking over their bodies, desire raw and unfiltered. You knelt between them, hands sliding up their thighs, your touch sending waves of pleasure through them.

“Spread for me,” you commanded with your voice low and dominant.

Karina and Winter did as you asked, their legs falling open, their cores exposed, their desire on full display. Your hands moved between them, fingers teasing, touch sending shivers through their bodies. Your lips trailed kisses along their inner thighs, breath hot against their skin, your tongue teasing, touch expert and knowing.

“Oh fuck,” Karina moaned, her hands clutching at the cushions, her body arching into your touch. Winter’s breath came in ragged gasps, her body trembling, her desire overwhelming. Your mouth found Karina’s core, tongue delving deep, your touch sending her over the edge.

“Yes,” she cried, her body shaking as her orgasm ripped through her, her release intense and all-consuming. Winter watched, her eyes dark with desire, as your mouth moved to her, tongue teasing, your touch sending her spiraling into her own release.

You rose with your body gleaming with sweat, your cock thick and throbbing. You stepped between them, hands guiding them, your lips trailing kisses along their necks, breath hot against their skin. “Ready for more?” You asked, with your voice as husky whisper.

—

They may say it’s a great opportunity to be in your position, walking around the university with a silver spoon up in your arse? Well, you’ll say that’s a myth from the oblivious freshmans new to the block or the people thinking it’s all sunshines and rainbows but in reality, you’re in this constant state of stress and improvement that seems to get long so well yet contradicting.

You cursed yourself for the better, but it’s fine because there’s someone to lean on in times that truly tests you as a person, and maybe even yourself as your own enemy.

“Hey… you alright?” A faint voice murmurs onto your shoulders, you huffing a breath once you hear her voice, expressing your relief and that hint of anxiety.

“I don’t know honestly…” You’re stressed and in this battle with yourself, grasping the situation and fully digesting it was just a poison you’d love to get rid of. “I’m just a little rivaled if I deserve this spot or not.”

The girl’s face paints concern and doubt, patting your shoulder as soon as she hears those words alongside the reassuring words like: “Don’t say that, babe—you deserved this! Don’t be too heavy on yourself…”

She’s a girl you’d go to war for, would fight until the end of time because of how much you love her, even though it’s sometimes over the scope of things and that’s Yu Jimin, mononymously known as Karina. She’s a girl which everyone leaves in awe with her beauty, charisma and her clever mind (even though she can be silly sometimes), and a personality that’s caring and funny, truly, you’re hitting the jackpot having a girl like her.

These are true and that’s why you love her unconditionally—it’s just not that she’s possibly the most beautiful girl to ever exist in the world (honestly, you’d vouch that this is factual because her visuals are something surreal) but it’s mostly the fact on how she’s so down-to-earth and that alone makes you even fall for her more.

Her words of comfort alone can make your mind tranquil, and you adore it, even in the simplest terms.

“I know this sounds dumb, babe, but why are you feeling like this? Like right now, randomly?” It actually piques Karina, on why you’re suddenly like this. She knows that you’re in a different mood, far from your usual self with this given moment right from the start and her curiosity won’t do any better for her.

You scoff, looking at the distance. “No, I just—like, feel nervous or uneasy, I guess?”

“On what, exactly?” Karina’s eyebrows furrowed, interested in what may come out of your mouth. Even with the interest, a bright idea flashes onto her mind, supposedly knowing the roots of your nervousness.

“Let me guess, is it about Winter?” She hit the bullseye, your pupils dilating says so and it’s too late to lie right now.

“Yeah…” You scoff, Karina’s eyebrows furrowed, head shaking a little as she can’t believe you’re almost in shambles just because of a single girl. 

“Oh god, I thought it was something to really worry about.” Karina laughed a little, finding the situation hilarious as you’re perplexed with her unserious demeanor.

“You’re not worried about Winter?”

“Really, her?” Karina clicks her tongue, still registering how relieved she is when she hears the name and continues to reassure you, yet this time in a playfully silly manner. “I’ve been friends with her for a while and let me tell you, you shouldn’t be bothered about her…”

Those little words help you a little, more uplifted than before as she adds, “By the way, why do you feel nervous though? And why did you mention her? Something working on with her?”

She straightforward yet still quizzical, her questions remained her interest floating in the air and it’s for you to answer it. “Uhm, like—here: we’re going to work on a project that’s been approved by the campus’ director and I feel like Winter is something I won’t be comfortable working with…”

There lies the truth: you don’t despise Winter, not even in the slightest, yet there’s a faux inkling in your brain that’s keeping you away from making yourself comfortable with her, and it’s something dumb. 

“How so?”

“I don’t know, Rina…” You gave her this furrowed look, slightly shy and ultimately indecisive. “She looks intimidating and hard to approach. I may just feel the slightest bit of enthusiasm working with her.”

Karina feels something is off, analyzing your expression as it’s enough to make a conclusion: “Winter being intimidating? Come on now…”

“What?”

Karina rolls her eyes, laughing with your words and you paint a puzzled face alongside her chuckles. “Babe, don’t worry about Winter. If it’s anything, she’s cordial and approachable, just a little shy, alright?”

Right. 

“Now exactly tell me the real reason why you’re feeling uncomfortable working with her.” She knows you, reads you like a book she always bothers to read.

The truth unfolds, saying everything to Karina and this is what it really meant: you deemed to your life that you’ll never interact with Winter ever again just because of a predicament. Accidentally spilling copious amounts of milk tea on her skirt months ago is enough to tell the tale—it never really got better than that, and as soon as she glared at you and angrily left the cafeteria with her backpack, you know you introduced yourself in an atrocious way. It was embarrassing to say the least, interrupting her study time because of your clumsiness was the worst thing to ever happen, even though there’s like four people who saw the mess.

You apologized on the spot and never got a reply back. You even tried to contact her but to no avail, she doesn’t really respond. Ever since, you’ve tainted a picture that she’s grumpy and there’s no way on this planet she’ll forgive you (it’s probably childish but what can you do?).

“Wait, that sounded familiar…”

“Huh, how?”

You’re constantly in this puzzled state, expecting words that can surprise you at any moment. “No, coz like—Winter said this too the other day to me and let me tell you, it’s not really a bad thing but she can’t help but feel annoyed too.”

She’s down to earth, and it hurts. If you only knew this, then it would not besmirch her image to your brain. “Also, babe, she also wanted to apologize to you because of her attitude but she didn’t seem to contact you—what a destiny, huh?”

Your face paints visible shock and delight, a little baffled that she’s actually trying to contact you. You’d love to believe that Karina’s lying, but it’s one of the things she’ll do last, barely doing it with you. 

“R-Really?”

“Yeah, I can even call her right now—”

“Wait, wait, wait! Not yet!” You pout, eyebrows furrowing as you felt conflicted with the information she had given you. You don’t know what to genuinely feel—delight, relief, nervousness or embarrassment—but one thing’s for sure: you’d know Winter would be such an angel in disguise, clearly a good person all throughout.

Guess Karina’s words really shifted your view on Winter? Yes, that’s mostly her power against you.

“Why not? I am even here to sort the mess you made.”

“It’s not that, okay?” You sigh, facing her again as her cockiness is probably admirable knowing she can genuinely help you (she knows it). “I’ll just sort these things out with just Winter and I.”

You genuinely appreciate her efforts, helping you even though she sounds like it’s nothing much of a deal for her—that’s another element that you love about her, albeit her usual unserious self that’s sometimes intolerable (it’s rarely experienced, though). Even though she’s her close friend and having a supposedly close relationship, you wouldn’t need her to tolerate the fear of being beside Winter because of your own battles within yourself. 

This time, you’ll establish a greater relationship with her and you’ll do that for the sake of making such an ambitious project possible, leaving no doubts nor regrets.

---

Yes, it’s ambitious and clearly, a lot is on the line, especially your reputation as the highest member in the council and the stakes are even higher considering you're working with a person that’s an integral part of the council, another linchpin, as they say. You’d wonder why the director chose the both of you to possibly lead this proposal, but you’ll soon hope to leave those questionable thoughts in the gutter.

Luckily for you, you'll meet Winter again for like the third time (this time, it’s influenced by Karina and you thank her for that even though you said you won’t need her, yet you lied.), and hoping to talk through something to make yourselves truly comfortable with each other.

You tap your foot, fidget your fingers as you wait for her, looking at the distance in hopes for her appearance sooner. 

“Uhm, hi? Hi…” You looked onto your shoulder, bowed at each other, a little startled with the blonde fingure’s appearance and she seemed to be slightly bubblier than your last two meetings with her, and it’s probably the sole reason for Karina's effect with her words in accordance with you.

She’s no doubt, really shy yet actually approachable—guess she is breathing a different set of fresh air and you won’t even complain. “You, uhm… probably know why you’re here.”

You’re a little uneasy, teeth shivering a little as she nods, then appears that cute little pout that you find adorable in a way. “To talk about something?”

“Right.”

“Right.” Winter fixes her seat, you clear your throat and do the same thing as her, and now, you regain confidence and lock eyes to her. 

“I—uhm, yeah… I really want t—”

“No!” It was clear, falling onto your ears and you’re awkward within this given moment until she continued. “I should be the one apologizing… so I’m sorry for what's been with me for the past days.” Winter falls onto this shy demeanor of hers, flashing a coy smile while still maintaining eye contact with yours and deeply, you’re convinced.

Not really convinced in the way of knowing it’s all her fault (the incident was yours to blame) but in a way of convincing yourself that she’s this captivating to look at. You shouldn’t be distracted, your attention invested in taking this seriously but you just can’t just brush off the fact that she’s beautiful.

“No, no, this is bad—Karina’s gonna kill me—just talk with her and nothing else.” And so you did, fighting the urge of just being in awe with such a woman.

“Uhm—yeah, it’s fine, Winter… I’m sorry too if I just ruined your day back then—”

“No!”

“No?” You’re confused, questioning why she would say a confident “no”. She looks away, off the distance as she felt that her confidence fazed you, keeping her mellow voice audible again after such an enthusiastic approach. 

“I mean you did but like—I shouldn’t have brushed you off like that…”

You inch yourself a little closer, leaning an elbow onto the table and painting a smile, it’s growing and becoming more sincere and it reassures her, little by little. “Thanks, I’m sorry if I—like, introduced myself in such a bad way.”

Winter laughs and it’s contagious, doing it too at your own end as she tucks her blonde locks behind her ear, her eyes sparkling in interest and totally surging with keenness. “Hah… You know, actually, uhm—hoo… I found that a little hilarious.”

You clear your thoughts, raise your eyebrows and assess if you really heard her right—in fact, you really did and you just can’t fathom how she found such an embarrassing event would spark such little entertainment. “What do you mean, Winter?”

Winter sighs, looking down and possibly regretting what she said and it doesn’t help with your tone a little raised up (you’re not angry but at her end, she doesn’t like this and thinks the other way). “No, I-I don’t mean it in a bad way! Like, maybe a little bit but honestly, I felt a little bad too…”

She coats her embarrassment with words you can’t be sure if she’s sincere about or not, but one thing’s for sure, that she’s actually a great person to be with. You can feel how she’s like more vocal—Karina said that Winter isn’t much of a person that talks that much, and she also does it whenever she feels comfortable—and you like it and knowing she’s still hinting that miniscule shyness, you reassure her that you’re not mad about anything, but rather even finding your predicament a little hilarious too.

Guess the both of you are getting too comfortable with each other too fast than what you’ve expected.

“Not much of a thing?”

“Yes, Winter.” You grin, letting her know that what happened from the past prior to this moment wouldn’t be a hindrance in order to develop a friendly relationship with Winter, especially in these times where you’re going to experience working with her. You extend your arm a little onto the table as she eyes it, taking it as a move signifying your comfort. “Looking now, I think we’ll work well together.”

She’s probably fluttered hearing your words, hinting a faint blush onto her cheeks and looking down with the sudden surge of joy hitting her and of course, still sheepish. “I’m flattered you think that way.”

“Why wouldn’t I?” 

Winter paints that set of her dulcet smiles that you would grow accustomed to love because of how vibrant they are—you swear to god, her smiles alone can make your day better, alongside Karina’s too, of course. “I don’t know—everything feels much better right now that we’re just talking face to face.”

“And not with the pressure of anyone?” You assume that she felt much more comfortable with you knowing there’s no one around that will possibly judge or interrupt the both of you, compared to the last two meetings with the influence of the director and the people involved with this project. Also, as Karina said, Winter isn’t much of a first-initiative kind of girl and is often shy, so you wouldn’t blame her for being like the opposite of herself right now and you find this confidence of her amusing and great.

“I do think so…” Winter nods, knowing that having all eyes onto both of you and the others really defeats the purpose of being assured but knowing how this personality of hers can be her bane is enough to make yourself vocal about that judgment of yours. “But I do think that you should get used to this—like this kind of environment.”

Winter sighs, then averted her eyes back to yours. “Karina-unnie has been saying that too and yeah, I should consider that.”

“You know, Winter, it still baffles me that you’re friends with Karina.”

Winter’s mouth is ajar, a little shocked with your words. “Oh, how so?”

“I don’t really know but like, she barely talks about you whenever we’re together and is it the same at your end? If you don’t mind though.”

You could sense that she probably doesn't mind it and that’s a sigh of relief. Her amicable tone sets off the mood right, and that’s what matters. “I mean it’s pretty bare too, but I knew you before… like when you’re still in the lowest positions in the council.” 

You’re piqued and nodded with Winter’s enlightenment. Knowing this conversation will stir away to the supposed reason why the both of you are here, you let her know that and you’re just grateful that the two of you are getting comfortable with each other, and realized that the saying of “don’t judge the book by its cover” is always evident and factual.

“Uhm, by the way, about the uhm… the project we’re working on, I thought about an idea on how we can start it.”

Winter’s eyes sparkle in utter investment of her attention towards you, tilting her head and smiling as she mutters, “I actually have something in mind too but, lead the way, please.”

Maybe it all falls down to this moment, and you can’t wait what this day has in store for you. You never anticipated something so positively summarized for a conclusion, but of course, you’ll take these small victories and let yourself be invested with this ambitious endeavor.

---

You never knew how Winter and you could be so comfortable with each other, establishing a robust relationship after the both of you part ways and it ends up on a greater note, finally getting her number and having a greater contact than ever before. Of course, boundaries need to be tolerated and it's further shown by her, knowing how respectful she is because of her awareness between you and Karina.

And it’s not like Winter’s that type of a homewrecker, but you could never be so sure since you barely knew her. Albeit all of that, you protest to the thought that Winter’s going onto that route, her modest and friendly personality says so and you could feel how genuine it is.

Well, it is a great day but nothing’s going to fulfill such greatness without laying your eyes on indisputably, the most beautiful person that ever walked on this earth, inches away from her and you’re captivated with her presence whenever she’s around.

Her voice resonates around your ear, and instantly, you curled up a smile. “Long day?”

You sip on your drink, then let out a sigh with her words. “Possibly, yeah…”

Karina sees this as something that can be considered alarming, your sighs deep enough to make her think of an assumption that you’re probably lying. “You alright? You seem like, pft… unsatisfied.”

“Okay, honestly, I’m just tired and I’ll be like this most of the time…” Karina understands this, with your current responsibility with such a hierarchical position deems such exhausting endeavors possible. You’re grateful for having a thoughtful girlfriend like her who perceives things thoroughly, and you’ll be thankful with that. “Anyways, this flavor rocks by the way—what flavor is this?”

“Dark mocha frappe—just how you like it, babe…” You smile knowing these small victories are wholesome, even knowing how you like your frappes is a great thing.

“I owe you something then, no?” Karina’s mouth is agape, shocked and playfully becomes mad, feeling her efforts aren’t taken seriously by you. You then laughed with her frisky retorts, her face painted with little annoyance and shocked is such a sight to see, further teasing her as she replies. “No! Yah, why do you think like I’m owing you something most of the time?”

You sip, humming in satisfaction with the strong, sweet taste as you laughed right after. “Sometimes, I just feel like it but anyways, thanks, Rina.”

Karina’s demeanor shifted into those glowing eyes of hers, in awe with your amicable words that made her a little shy. “Anyways, how’d it go, babe?”

You paused for seconds, taking another sip as you flash a smile, full of vanity on how the events unfolded and she knows exactly what you’ll say. “Pretty great, honestly—never knew Winter would be such a great girl to talk with.”

Karina continuously stirred her light-colored frappuccino, sipping on it and then faced you, mouthing the words, “Told ya, she’s a great girl.”

She places the cup onto the marbled table, approaching you and palms your shoulder with a caressing touch and she continues. “Glad my girl’s doing well, honestly—this is such a great opportunity for her, and for you.” 

Then Karina’s eyes dart onto yours, a breath brushing against your lips as she smirks, and you know that her façade is possibly ambiguous right now. “Why get too dangerously close, Rina?”

Karina chuckles, eyes off the distance then back to yours, her tone a little interrogative. “Is it just bad for me to feel happy for the both of you, hm, babe?”

“Right, Rina…” You’re a bit sarcastic, as she pulls away a little bit, and retorts playfully against you. 

“Yah! Anyways, I just missed being this close to you, y’know?” You can sense how much she missed these intimate and wholesome moments with you, probably neglecting these because of your own endeavors which seem to not meet its demise. You’re subtly complaining, but it’s now a part of you, so you will bear with it and live with your responsibilities as a hierarchical linchpin. 

You won’t miss out on chances like this, opportunities lingering within your hands’ reach is a must. “I missed this too, Rina.”

Tilt her chin and then you indulge onto that apotheotic act—lips clashed onto yours; tongues tangled as its carnal instinct. Every second that counts delves deeper into killing that deprivation that roamed all over your bodies, and instantly, found that longing gem that’s been buried for quite some time—satisfaction.

She brought the light of your dying star, and you’re welcoming her abilities to bend the laws of physics—normally, this sounds impossible and immoral, yet ambiguously speaking, she can probably ignite that feeling again.

“Kiss me more—kiss me more, baby…” Pecks and its resonating sounds fill the air, the love emanating all throughout sets up the mood vibrantly and you got to thank Karina for that. 

You just reciprocated, can’t be bothered to translate your feelings through words and she succumbs to the feeling. Your lips pepper hers just right, insatiable with the way you run your expertise and cupping her cheeks is a great leverage. Her hands just roams its way onto your waist, tracing your abdomen then inadvertently (there’s a high chance it’s not), she hikes up the hem of your shirt until you stop her.

“Calm down for a second, Rina.”

“But I can’t, baby…” She wants it, but there’s more ways to do it before achieving such a climax, and you’re voicing it out with no hesitation.

“Let us finish these foods and drinks first, no?”

Karina pouts, an audible hml can be heard as she knows you have a valid point. “Fine then, but after this, we gotta dive for more.”

You chuckle, knowing where this will descend into. “Whatever you want, my love.”

Karina’s eyes just widened with your given name towards her, and you knew you picked her locks with it.

“Clever minds could bear such blessings in the smallest things.”

---

There’s nothing denying this, not even God himself—you’re way too in love with Karina. It’s such a blessing getting yourself in a position where you can be intimate with your movements, peppering her with kisses up to her abdomen or even going over the roof. Yet now is just full of warmth, her embrace against yours is something you’ll cherish, even engaging into deeper, warmer cuddles as her head rests onto your shoulder.

“It’s going to be a big event tomorrow, ain’t it, babe?”

“Not really, big, but like—” You tuck her hair behind her ear, endeared with her beauty as you can't help but just be in awe but you continue. “—mostly a crucial part for us, probably.”

The both of you are under the covers, feeling each other’s heat and the lingering feeling of the attachment she’s been longing for, caressing her hands onto your bare skin and moaning a little with her enchanting and sensitive touch. You let Karina go berserk, suckling onto your collarbones and your neck, kissing it with a renowned fervor and her actions just makes you feel something that you’re possibly dying to feel in a long while. “You know babe—mwah, hm, thinking of that, we should probably hangout or some sort…”

You paint that puzzled face, averting her attention towards you with a touch on her shoulder and is eager to clarify what she’s trying to say. “What do you mean? We’re hanging out right now, no?”

Karina chortles, hands now roaming onto your arms as she replies, “Not that babe… I’m thinking about us with Winter.”

That name just becomes a ring onto your brain, and you ultimately poised yourself in a different approach whenever she calls that name out. “Why involve Winter with this? What are you try—”

Karina shushes you with a finger, your eyes widening with her actions as her reassuring tone calms your mind. “Come on, just trust me, babe—think of this as a way for the both of you to be more comfortable with each other, okay?”

The emphasis is clearly something underlying suspicion, but nonetheless, you know Karina wants the best for both worlds, and it’s up for you to seal the deal. She still maintains eye contact with you, chin resting against the upper part of your sternum as her eyes glisten with anticipation, an anticipation with your words needing to complete the puzzle.

“So, what do you say?”

You scoff, rolling your eyes as you gaze back to her. “Promise me this isn’t something I will be worried about, alright?”

Another chuckle, and Karina’s confidence fades your uneasiness. “Why would I make you feel like that? Of course not.”

You trust her, you ultimately do and she knows she won’t let yourself be in the brink of harm or anything that can make you feel anxiety. “Okay then, I’d love to see your dynamics with Winter too…”

You both laugh faintly, as she kissed your collarbone and averted those orbs of hers towards yours for the umpteenth time. “Oho, there’s a lot and gosh, I’m excited for tomorrow…”

You yawn, almost burying yourself onto the pillows that signifies your drowsiness. “You know, I should probably sleep now, Karina—tomorrow’s a long day.”

“For both of us too…” Karina adds, and her hands tuck your hair behind your ear, then muttering the words, “Good night, baby.”

“Good night too, Rina.” You kissed her on the lips again, and then pulled away, matching her energy as she laughed and became more flustered because of it. 

“You know that I love you so much, right, babe?”

“Of course, I love you too—like, so much, Rina.”

You pulled her into another torrid kiss, her hands finding your neck as you indulged for more and god, this felt like it would never stop, until dawn.

Not going to lie, whatever happens tomorrow, you’ll look forward to it and you’re reassured knowing it’s Karina within your side. A great way to end this day is probably another animalistic approach and you can’t be bothered to make yourself deprived with that.

Or is it?

The night is still young, and limits are still onto the horizon on what’s possible to do…

---

It was one hell of a night, mostly in the excitement of missing each other’s intimate presence and the little bonds that you’d take as a win. You’ll eventually receive texts from Winter which you eagerly responded to, feeling butterflies whenever you reply and it’s one of the best things to happen nowadays.

You’re getting ready for the first milestone on this day, and the best way to encounter a nuisance is a buzz from your phone, coming from Karina.

katarina_for_u at 13:14 - “I’ll be just meeting the both of you outside the university’s grounds, ok?”

You’re a little surprised, knowing she probably has a class at this given time frame, and possibly ending before the sun settles. 

You reply, “Don’t you have a class right now?”

You wait for a little while, before you can see Karina typing again and anticipating her answer.

katarina_for_u at 13:15 - “Well, it’s actually postponed and ㅠㅠ I forgot to say it to you…” 

You won’t mind that honestly and see it as an absolute win. You never felt those little triumphs in you once she texted that, and you could never start yourself standing so proudly. You didn’t mind it that much once she said that she never told you about it, so you replied back only for another notification popping up onto your phone and that averted your attention.

kim_winter at 13:18 - “Hi! I’ll be waiting for you in the AVR, the right side of the seats, a little in front. See you!”

These girls have their own appeal and you’re just in shambles with it. Winter’s amicable tone when texting is something adorable, you may even say it’s opposite to what you’ve thought of her prior to yesterday’s meeting. You can really sense growing that attachment towards her within your friendly relationship with her, and that’s all that matters, whether it’s benefiting inside the university or solely just expanding your circle. 

And it’s just great for your popularity and how you’ll see things—clearly, knowing a lot of people will help you with improving your social skills and the way you approach them, or even strangers.

Yet the circle is mostly sequestered between the three of you, concealed from the others and you’ll live with that most of the time.

You reply back to Winter while brushing your teeth, and you look at yourself in the mirror, feeling that confidence in you and the trust within you on what this day can offer.

Really, you’re just in the tip of the iceberg…

---

“Never knew there’ll be so many people in here, Winter.”

Winter bites her lips, playing with her lips as she nods slowly. “Yeah, and it’ll be a long one too…”

You could already sense the boredom laced within her voice, and it’s going to be the battle on who’s going to be utterly invested at the of the event (not going to lie, you’ll probably will be interested in this but you wouldn’t lie to your teeth to say this won’t delve down onto such ennui). 

Your eyes wander around the people that’s taking their seats and the people working behind the scenes of the event. You do that for a few more seconds, then check on your phone and then scroll onto the endless blue light it emits, then at the end, earn a smile or possibly, a faint chuckle.

Winter then interrupts you with a light tap onto your shoulder, and immediately, you turn off your phone and shift your attention to her. “Anyways, did Karina tell you something about us three like—hanging out or some sort?”

You fake a cough, covering your mouth with a tight fist as your eyes widen, amused with the fact that she’s also aware of what’s going to happen after this (Karina and her have connections, so it’s not surprising to bear such news to the very least). “Yeah, yeah—actually she said it first to me and had that first thought but like…”

You produce this vacuum-like sound, which can be considered tinnitus or some sort and then bite your lip as Winter anticipates, “Like what?”

You scoff, averting your eyes to her, “Like do you really like this? Like, if you would hang out with us, would you?”

Winter hitches a breath, scoffing too as she feels like your question sounds a little dumb since the answer is probably obvious. “Tch, o-of course! You know, I really wanted to know more about you and Karina is such a great friend to hang out with—I can just see ourselves in a win.”

Totally convinced right from the start of her tone, you nod slowly and have yourself some peace of mind, knowing Winter is eager to do this. 

This coursing sensation within you distracts you, and it’s like a bugbear you can’t seem to get rid off—and still, the peace of mind is still faux. This is risky for a girl like her to know such things you want to address, even if it’s some sort of an enigma that has some double meaning. Your mind is shouting at you to do it and with the fire in you ready to burst out, you knew it was time but you’re going to play safer.

“Winter…”

“Yeah?” She continued viewing her eyelashes onto her phone, and then averting those alluring eyes of hers to you.

“You know Karina’s one hell of a girl, y’know?” Your eyes feel weightful, head tilted by a little and weirdly enough, she’s piqued on what you’re trying to imply.

“Like in what way?... Like something crazy, wild or—”

“That!” You exclaim a little-too-loud as you paint a sheepish façade, and then brushed off when no one possibly hears your tone’s ebullience. “Sorry, like that—oh gosh, how would you know?”

Winter’s face is confused, but eventually, got the grip on what hit your buttons. “So wait… her being wild? Am I right?.... Like…”

“Yeah, that, actually…” You feel a little ashamed of why you’re bringing this out, and eagerly apologize. “God, I’m sorry for bringing this out…”

Winter’s hands roam to your shoulder, reassuring you that it’s not really that taboo at her end. “Oh no no, actually, Karina-unnie’s other side is pretty common on my end too…”

Honestly, right now, you’re fucking shocked on how she is straightforward, composed and not even disgusted to the slightest. You felt yourself on the edge of a cliff but saved with how she took this possibly embarrassing conversation effortlessly. You sighed in relief and your curiosity’s at an all-time high right now. 

“Oh wow, I thought you'd be like weirding out—”

“Oh, hah…” Winter scoffed, rejuvenating herself with a light shake of her head, eyebrow raising and then down, as she continued, “Maybe if it’s the other girls, then probably that will end there but not me…”

You don’t know why, but you admire her composed demeanor and you love it. Your mouth is slightly ajar, still rendering how she’s taking this so calm. “You don’t mind if I ask how often she’s sharing something like this?”

“Honestly, it’s pretty rare and please don’t get mad if I say something like this, alright?”

You fixed your posture, cleared your throat, welcoming every word that comes out of her mouth with open arms. “It’s fine, you can share it, Winter.”

“She talks about you, on those given times too…”

Oh god, you were expecting it in the slightest, but you’re still baffled with that given fact and it’s evident with the gasp you let out.

“Gosh, I’m so sorry—god, please don’t—just keep this thing within us three, okay?” You’re a little weary, nervous too with the fact that Winter knows the factual sin between you and Karina but she assures you that everything’s going to be fine.

“I can assure you every secret with me is safe, and I will never tell anyone about this thing you’re having with Rina-unnie.”

At least she’s something to rely on with her given words, at least, for what you heard. “Ohh… glad it’s tight shut for anyone to know.”

“Truly, truly.” You should start and trust her, gain that building faith towards her and this is a great start and the best part here is her genuine approach.

Even if it’s just this quick for the both of you to be too comfortable, it’s just in the right pace considering having attachments with Karina eased both of your socializations with each other.

You just pray to god that the secret never sees the light of day. Hopefully…

---

Sun’s starting to set, hours have been spent on something that’s probably helpful, to the very least knowing that you've learnt something and it goes the same with Winter. Your lazy ass wouldn’t appear onto these kinds of events if you weren’t having a name for yourself.

But those flew away from the fabric of time, and all that matters is between the three of you and what Karina has in store for the both of you. You walk with Winter out of the halls of the conference building and onto the parking lot, escorting her and you immediately give her the green light to be your passenger for this night.

“You sure you don’t mind?”

You scoff, “Of course, Winter—you gotta go to the backseat though, if you don’t mind it.”

“Of course, it’s not much of a deal—thanks anyways.”

These small things of appreciation makes your heart flutter, and you’re liking her even more—her respect towards you grows exponentially, and it’s an element you’d grow accustomed to adore. 

You open the door, and let her in like a princess as she playfully remarks, “Oh~ thank you… such a gentleman.”

“Small thing, Winter.” You can see the evident fluster up her cheeks, and you took it as a genuine reply with your actions.You closed her door and got up to your seat as a ding piques your attention.

katarina_for_u at 18:03 - “Fetch me at the resto just meters after the first turn of the university gates. See you, babe ;)”

It’s short and sweet, enough to curl your lips up to a genuine grin. You let Winter know about this, and she just nodded with that ramping vigor, feeling faintly excited with what’s going to happen.

You’re forming this judgment of thrill, anticipation in an all time high.

You’d expect the best to come and it’s yet to extract that ingenuity within you, an emotion sincere.

---

So, everything was just according to her plan? Walking together around and then ending it up with some nice dinner in some classy restaurant was something she was planning? Well, it surely won’t end so anticlimactic even though you enjoyed the talks you had with these beautiful women—some are engaging, little-to-no chances of dull topics and enjoyed it all throughout.

It was pretty tiring right now but not when you’re around them—you feel this surge of energy coursing within you everytime, filling up your tank.

“Oh, unnie’s choices are amazing. From food to places, wow…” 

Karina laughs with Winter’s subtle compliments even though some are probably laced with sarcasm, and you laugh with their playful banters and conversations while keeping your focus on the road. How could they act such dorks and be so unserious when they look like the most modest people that had walked on this planet—maybe, the dualities do wonders and it’s such a great contrast.

“You don’t have to wear something so elegant, Rina.”

“Why not?” Karina’s tone is uplifting, curious on why you would ask such a thing. “This is not even that elegant, but just enough for something classy…”

“Unnie’s probably making herself look more beautiful for you.” Winter adds to the spice of the conversation, which she felt proud with and chuckled right after. Karina’s probably blushing right now with what she had said and given the enlightenment, she’s probably riding with that motive.

Karina pretends to be annoyed with Winter’s remarks, and keeps the vibe lively and delightful as possible. “Yah! I just wanted to dress like this, don’t you like it?”

You’re not going to lie, in every outfit she wears, she kills it everytime and there’s nothing she can’t pull off because of how she’s a natural breed in the world of fashion but you stand with what you said—this looks way too classy but you’re not complaining, she even looks stunning and surreal with this outfit.

“Well, I guess there’s something we needed to do to conclude this day.”

Both you and Winter’s faces contort onto this bewildered expression, utterly curious too as you asked what’s on her mind. 

“Well, I’m thinking we’ll stay at your place for the night—you know, to have some fun, haha…”

That chuckle is nothing close to being innocent. You and Winter probably know this other nature of Karina, and you know this fun she’s describing is involving something that’s off the charts.

You’re hesitant and didn’t lose your focus, a little perplexed why Karina would choose your place for the three of you to stay. “I don’t know, Karina—if you’re pulling up something again, it’ll better to your—”

“Please, babe?” Her tone is enough to make yourself feel endeared and mostly, convinced. Gladly, you can’t see her doe eyes pleading for you or else, you could have lost it and given in immediately—either way, you’ll eventually fall for her spell because she’s that irresistible.

“Okay, it’s fine—but whatever you have in mind, there’s no turning back, alright?” You plant this mischievous smirk curling up your lips and immediately, she knows what you’re talking about even though it wasn’t anything straightforward.

It’s the lust that powers her, and inadvertently, you steal glances with Winter on the front mirror, raising both eyebrows as she knows what’s up with Karina’s plans.

“Of course, well you gotta get that beast ready.”

Right, like you thought about earlier.

---

Events unfolded like the speed of light and it’s deemed to be factual, as actions could make time flow faster than usual. Now at your place, there wasn’t much of something with an introduction and only so subtly. Winter eyes your place and commends how simple and neat everything is and as usual, Karina was frankly remarking everything you needed to know, and how Winter is something more than what you already thought—also, it was clear that she was still naïve with what’s underlying the real thing and everything behind it.

Winter’s shy with Karina’s boldness and she’s not denying anything. All of your assumptions of Winter being just like any other girl was fading as soon as Karina unravels her other nature.

It was a bold and a truthful assumption from your side, clearly thinking that she was all innocent but you never thought the fact her duality can be deceiving. You can’t blame yourself to think Winter just has the same energy as Karina, and the stars could never align so perfectly. You’re also lost within the thought, touching Karina intimately, hands running down her waist as you handle her with that ramping aggression until she stops and inches herself away from you.

Of course everything starts with a little hint of spice, their dispositions clearly shifting and you assure yourself that you’ll get used to both of them being in their own nature with their given sides. 

“Care to eye for some starters, Winter?” Karina raises an eyebrow, clearly willing for an aid to her fantasies.

Winter is thinking, lost in the thought deeply as seconds come by until she parts her lips, “I would want some, yes…”

You thought she wouldn’t care for that, but a visual representation would be the safer bet as echoing what’s said earlier, she's still clearly oblivious about the real thing, assuming the lack of her knowledge of how these things work.

She wouldn’t be up in the ranks if it weren’t for her intelligence, so that assumption was deemed to be proven false.

Karina kneels, looking at you, through your soul as she talks to you about it. “Don’t cum that fast, I’m going to put on a show for Winter here.”

You chuckle, clearly letting herself get ahead and over, and subconsciously admiring her playful intent. “Bold for you to assume that, huh?”

Karina’s mischievous grin was the last thing she flashes you before she could get onto work. The air permeates the cool breeze but is later rivaled with her hands onto your boxers, finger twirling onto your conspicuous tent teasingly. She wouldn’t waste such precious time just to tease a man like you and to her own defense, you’re clearly insatiable.

Both up to the like, every second is golden and shouldn’t wasted—

Karina pulls your boxers down, and down to your ankles they go and kick it off just to the side, deeming it worthless and just a nuisance with your aching tent. You coo with the coldness and moan once she places her hand onto your vigorated length, clearly stroking it to elevate the pleasure.

“Look, Winter…” Karina strokes you in need, spitting onto your cock as every twist and dexterous movements is taken down as a note by Winter, and you can just see her eyes shine with lust and amusement. “See what I’m doing? You just need to rile things up first.”

And she didn’t miss.

Karina’s tongue swirls around the red-purplish crown, and a shudder is your response as well as a faint moan that strokes her ego and a signal of approval. She withdrew her touch from yours and faced Winter, “Your bright mind would take notes of these without my words, hm?”

Karina’s tone wakes Winter up from her not-so-apparent trance of drool, looking at her with such adorable and innocent intent as a nod follows. “Yes, I can, Rina…”

“Call me your unnie for now, would you?” Her face exudes utter seduction, clearly built to be like a charismatic vixen while she asks Winter about this little name-calling. 

Winter nods and Karina curls up a satisfied smirk. “Good… Also, just ask my boyfriend what do you want to call him.”

You’re a little perplexed, unable to even be a step ahead of how you want to be addressed for this moment and with a conclusion, you’d like to see Winter try.

Winter’s eyes expand by a little, hands fidgeting the hem of her jacket as you know how shy she is, given how Karina’s actions are making things awkward but she manages to not let those battles be a hindrance. “How do you want to be called?”

You gulp and try to clear your mind, possibly fighting the urge to moan with Karina’s enervating touches while talking to Winter. “Just call me daddy, okay?”

Winter’s eyes are alluring and those scintillations proved that fact, and you smirk with her apparent nod and with her coy smile. You find your hands combing and caressing Karina’s hair as she slobbers all around your length, hungry and desperate to put a memory for Winter that she would remember until the end of time.

You don’t need to invest into some extensive research to know if Winter’s enjoying this, her subsequent lip bites and eyes laser-focused onto the bobbing figure is enough evidence. 

Karina’s supreme display of talent shows and she knows how to get it done. Picture this, crystal clear: She’s alternating between strokes onto your base and furious bobs, the incredible stimulation of your balls with her hands and the lathered drool seeping out of the caldera of her mouth and all over to her pants. 

The nigh-absence of gag reflex makes the sight even more hotter (the numerous blowjob sessions with her helped a lot) as it allows for more opportunities to display her limits, and so she does.

She’s taking you fully, nose flushed onto your lower abdomen and closing her eyes, testing how far and long she can be in this state. It’s probably eight or ten seconds that had passed and she’s not pulling out, and you decided to do the little game of asphyxiation. Her hands grip your thighs for leverage, nails digging deeper as you pinch her nose, blocking her airways.

It stays for a few more seconds until she’s flushed red, and the inevitable is bound to happen: pulling out of your length and gasping desperately for oxygen.

“Hah—w-what are you doing?” Karina’s visible frustration sends you chuckling, and you reassure and let her know something.

“Don’t you always want that, Rina?”

“God—” Karina hitches a breath, clicking her tongue and she looks up at you, eyes in contact with laced vexation. “—don’t do that! I’m putting up a show for Minjeong here!”

“Hey, uhm—it’s totally fine…” Winter butts in, putting up a halt on an escalating argument as you and Karina’s eyes widen, interesting with the fact that she wants these kinds of stuff.

“You don’t mind the little asphyxiating play?” You ask her, a little bothered by the fact she probably doesn’t like the fetishes. “I’m sorry if it’s—”

“No, it’s really fine!” Winter’s reassuring and bubbly tone makes you conclude up the final verdict, and a sigh leaves your lips regarding that. “I wanna see from you daddy, and Rina-unnie…”

Karina’s hands stroke your rock-hard shaft as the sudden action makes you avert your attention towards her, and her expressions just signifies hubris. You let her know Winter’s wants, and you don’t want it unattended. “You heard her, Rina.”

Karina hisses, and smiles faintly, directing towards Winter. “Use your words, Winter.”

“Please unnie, suck him off.” You heard it loud (mostly it’s faint, but who cares) and clear yet Karina has other plans.

“Can’t quite hear you princess…”

Winter gulps, parting her lips as she raises her voice, “Please suck daddy off, unnie! Want to see everything and your skills, unnie s-so—please!”

This egotistic slut. When in bed, Karina’s becoming a totally different person, gone are her bubbly and loving personalities once she gets to feel or even see your throbbing cock and it’s such an unbreakable spell. 

Knowing Winter’s words is sincere enough, Karina won’t let her deprive off her needs of a tutorial as she takes you in, slowly and sloppier than ever.

A clench, she grips you tighter. A touch, she gives more. A moan, she ups the pace. It’s a given cycle, a wheel spinning around, repeating the patterns that you could never get tired of.

You’re lost under her control yet Winter’s voice piques your attention. “Daddy, why doesn’t unnie gag that much?”

Well, the conclusion is mostly approved—she wasn’t so naïve about these things, huh? 

Your groan, taking a second before you could respond, “Well, Winter—your slutty unnie right here has been blowing my dick for numerous times that she just grew accustomed to it.” Your eye contact with Winter was something enchanting, genuinely delightful seeing how interested Winter is before averting your attention again to the slobbering picture of Karina impaling her throat with your entire length. “You see the way she bobs her head, taking me down fully? That’s how you know she’s a slut for my cock.”

Even if Karina protests, truth is too powerful to be hidden and she wouldn’t pull out to your permeating succulence just because she wants to retaliate in words. 

Karina just dugs deep, messier and god, the sight is turning Winter on so much—knees meeting each other, feet apart as her face just defines lust with the sight.

Curiosity still imbues through Winter, willing to learn from the both of you. “Gagging is just normal when you’re inexperienced, right, daddy?”

You nod, a reassuring action that lets her know about the wonders of such a show. “It’s completely normal—fuck, right, yeah it’s normal, Winter.”

Winter nods as her eyes continue to watch Karina with her oral expertise, pleasuring you with such talent that you can’t define how stupendous she is when she’s on her knees. As much as you like to probably paint her throat white, or the immediate besmirchment of that angelic visage of hers, Winter is the star here and Karina is just a tool for learning.

You tap Karina’s shoulder, and she obliges quickly, knowing how she shouldn’t be rewarded right after. Karina just stands up, looking at you as you giggle, marveling with the fact she did put up one hell of a show for Winter. “You’ll get your reward later, Karina.”

Karina parts her mouth, shaped like an ‘O’ as her eyebrows are raised from the shock. “You know it’ll be better for Winter right here—you’ve rewarded me plenty of times already…”

Karina’s confidence is through the roof, and it’s just a great recipe to be a mentor for an inexperienced Winter.

“Come here, Winter.” Winter stands up from her seat, coming closer to the both of you as immediately, Karina commanded her to kneel down in which she obliges. “You can take it easy first, and when you feel like diving for more, let yourself be, is that clear, Winter?”

Winter nods, pouting her lips as she looks up to you and then, towards her. “Mhm, yes, unnie.”

“Good.” Karina pats Winter on the head, caressing those blonde locks of hers and Karina averted her attention to you, straightforward and clearly leaning for you to handle Winter with care. “And you, use your words, okay? Minjeong likes being praised—strokes her ego definitely, hm?”

You smirk, hubristic towards Karina’s remarks, “Of course I am, and you Winter—” You caress her porcelain cheeks, admiring those innocent face of hers, as she looks up to you, clearly hungry and shy yet you have faith with what she can bring to the table. “—you’ll do great, have trust in you.”

Winter analyzes your length, eyeing every inch as she blows nervous breaths because of what she’s going to be tackling. You saw this and reassured her with your actions of playing with those pigtails, and Karina vocalizes her assurance through words. “You got this Winter, trust yourself.”

A simple nod is what it took before she took a hold of your shaft, from the base and got herself ready for what’s bound to happen. She parts her lips, kissing the head of your cock and you moan with the sensitivity she brings. She alternates between licks and kisses which eventually became redundant, and you wouldn’t complain since you wanted Winter to be comfortable around your length.

She takes your full tip, Karina motivating her with such praise that was evident with the way she works around you. “Great start, Winter, great fucking start.”

Winter hums, vibrations sending waves of gratification all over you as she dives in deeper, then bobbing her head with such a slow pace that you wouldn’t mind. She closes her eyes, feeling every movement devoted to wring out the pleasure within you and it’s effective—she’s a natural at this.

Her tongue works well for a rookie like her, constantly licking your head while she works up her pace moderately. You could feel a little bit of that tooth of her, and you wouldn’t mind that given the fact that it compliments the pleasure she brings—you got that masochistic side in you, too. 

“You can hollow your cheeks if you want, or you can go deeper and keep that pace…” Karina mouths her suggestions, as she bites her lips with Winter’s oral endeavors, absolutely marveling her sullied face full of her spit. She does what Karina told her, coming up on a conclusion that it would elevate both of your experiences with the given situation. 

She does wonders around your throbbing length, creating a vacuum as she hollows those puffy cheeks of hers, and you can sense how she’s been wanting for god knows how long. 

Karina chuckles with your current disposition, succumbs and drowns in the state of bliss but clearly fighting it. If Karina would know how soft, tight and pleasurable Winter is doing around your lengty then wouldn’t be laughing as such.

“Use your words.” Karina tells you, imperatively, about how you can tame Winter and how you can use your advantage against her, benefiting the both of you.

“Such a good girl, Winter—fuck, that’s great.” You can’t manage to lock a gaze onto her bobbing blur, clearly being lost with the pleasure as you savor every second of it. 

Winter achieves greater depths, and eventually, she gagged and tried to tame it but in the end, wasn’t deemed successful.

“Oh shi—fuck, I’m sorry, daddy…” Winter catches her breath, face flushed red as she apologizes more about her sudden testing of her limits. You tilt her chin up, facing you as you smile with her skills given her inadequacy on the real scope of things.

“It’s fine, Winter—you did such a great job for me.”

“Yes, he’s right—you did a fantastic job, Minjeong.” Karina smiled mischievously, patting the back of her head and Winter felt more flustered with it, ears with a rosy hue as both your compliments boosts her mood. 

“I’ll always be a great girl for daddy…” 

She will be. 

Winter gains that confidence, immediately taking you in, more sloppier than before as her pace is fast enough to make a mess out of her mouth. She took mental note from earlier, fondling your balls in aims to draw your orgasm closer, to the edge and you admire her initiative. You continue to caress her blonde locks, even tugging onto those nicely-tied pigtails of hers as Karina whispers in her ear, urging her to do more and make you even writhe under her oral control.

“Swirl your tongue, Winter. Stroke his cock too while you’re at it—he loves it.” You sure do. 

Winter’s tongue dances around the length of your shaft, as her other hand pumps your shaft in an alternating pattern with her bobs. Up, down, then left and right, the sight down below looks like a dream—no one could possibly know how an innocent looking secretary would be such a cockhungry woman and honestly, you’re here for it.

Karina lifts Winter’s chin up, making her break the trance of solely closing her eyes to feel everything, and maintaining that eye contact that you always wanted.

“There you go, he likes it too when both eyes have contact.” You sure do, again. Winter’s eyes glisten under the moderately vibrant lights the room brings, maintaining such eye contact while bobbing her head repeatedly with an intent to please you. You caress her chin and play with hair, even brushing off some strands that get onto her beautiful and ruined countenance. 

Winter gags frequently but she fights it, taming and pushing what she can do and that alone, earns a commending action from her.

She pulls out of her tight encapsulation, eyes lost within yours as she mutters faintly and desperately, “Did I do good, daddy?”

Fuck. They way looked at you, adorably and begging to be ruined could never go wrong. Karina strokes her head, proud for what she's done as you say your own judgment. “Of course you did, Winter—you’re a natural at this…”

The final touch elicits a moan from Winter that makes your cock throb. It was worse when Winter found your length again, handling it and resuming what she’d started.

While being impaled with your shaft inside her heavenly mouth, Winter looks to her right, focused onto Karina as Karina mouthed the words that drop the green light. “Keep sucking him, okay? I’ll make out with him while you’re busy.”

Winter just nods and smiles, mouth full of your cock as your attention is diverted towards Karina, her seductive never failing to make you fall for her as she knows how desperate she became once she saw Winter’s blowjob image.