Untitled

"EUNBI! EUNBI-UNNIE!"

She smiled, waved, the reflexive idol response that years of training had drilled into her muscles. A quick flutter of fingers. Then she turned back to the pitch, where the teams were lining up for the national anthems, and tried to make herself small.

The man to her left wasn't having it.

He was big. Not fat—broad. Shoulders like a wrestler's, a soccer jersey stretched tight across his chest. Late twenties, maybe. His knee pressed against hers as he leaned in, his breath hot and beery against her neck.

"You're even prettier in person," he said.

Eunbi's skin crawled. "Thank you," she managed, and shifted away.

Her movement only seemed to encourage him. His hand landed on her thigh.

"Hey—" She tried to push it off.

The hand stayed. Squeezed.

"I said—"

"Shhh." His fingers dug into the soft flesh above her knee. "Just watch the game, idol-girl."

Around them, the crowd was cheering as the Korean team took the pitch. Nobody was looking at her. Nobody except the man's friends—three of them, turning in their seats now, their expressions shifting from curiosity to something hungrier when they saw where their friend's hand was.

"This is happening," one of them said, not a question.

The broad-shouldered man—Eunbi decided to call him Jersey in her head, because his jersey had SON 7 on the back—just grinned. "Help me get her down."

"What—no—"

Her protest died as hands seized her from behind. Someone had come up the row. Someone else. A fifth man, a sixth. They were rising from seats all around her, closing in like a net drawing tight, and Eunbi's mind raced through every anti-sasaeng protocol she'd ever been taught—

Stay calm. Don't escalate. Look for security.

She spotted a yellow-vested guard three sections over, but the crowd was a solid mass of bodies now, a wall of sweating, shouting fans, and her voice was swallowed by the stadium's roar as Korea took possession and eighty thousand people screamed.

Jersey yanked her out of her seat. The plastic armrest caught her hip, hard enough to bruise, and then she was on the concrete floor, the grit of it scraping her knees, her bucket hat tumbling away.

"Please—" She tried to crawl.

Someone grabbed her ankle and pulled. Her dress rode up. The concrete scraped her thighs, her stomach. Hands flipped her onto her back and she was staring up at a ring of faces, men grinning down at her, their eyes bright with the thrill of it.

"Fuck, she's so scared," one of them said, like it was the best thing he'd ever seen.

"I'm not—please, someone help—"

A hand clamped over her mouth. "Stop that."

She bit down. Hard.

The man yelped, yanked his hand back, and Eunbi saw the blood welling in his palm before someone else's fist drove into her stomach and all the air left her lungs in a single, silent rush.

She couldn't breathe. Couldn't scream. Couldn't do anything but curl around the pain while hands tore her dress up over her hips, her chest, her head. The cotton ripped. Her bra followed—a simple white thing, gone in two tugs that snapped the straps and left her breasts bare to the stadium lights.

"Oh fuck, those are real," someone breathed.

"Of course they're real, she's an idol—"

"Hold her arms."

They pinned her wrists to the concrete. Straddled her chest. Someone's knees pressed down on her biceps, and Eunbi could only kick, her bare heels slapping uselessly against the floor while the men around her unbuckled their belts.

The match was still going. Korea was pressing forward, the crowd was a single roaring organism, and nobody—nobody—was looking at the premium section where six men were stripping a woman naked on the floor.

Jersey knelt between her legs. His cock was already out—thick, uncut, the head glistening with pre-cum that smeared across her inner thigh when he pressed himself against her.

"Look at this cunt," he said, pulling her panties aside with one thick finger. "Fucking perfect. Pink and tight."

"Don't—please don't—I'll give you money, I'll give you anything—"

"Don't want your money, idol-girl." He lined himself up. The blunt heat of him pressed against her opening and Eunbi's whole body went rigid, her muscles clenching, trying to keep him out.

He pushed.

She screamed.

The sound was swallowed by eighty thousand voices as Korea took a shot on goal and the stadium erupted.

Jersey sank into her. No lube, no patience, just the brutal friction of his cock forcing her cunt open around him. Eunbi felt every inch—the ridge of his head dragging against her inner walls, the vein pulsing along the underside of his shaft, the way her body stretched to accommodate something far too large, far too sudden.

"Fuck, she's tight," he grunted.

"She's dry, you idiot—"

"Not for long."

He pulled back and slammed in again. Again. Again. Each thrust was a piston-drive, balls-deep, his hips slapping against her thighs with wet, meaty sounds that seemed to echo even through the stadium noise.

Eunbi's back arched. Her breasts bounced with every impact, and someone reached down to pinch her nipples, twisting until she shrieked.

"She's getting wet now," Jersey announced, and the humiliation of it—the truth of it—made her want to die. But her body was betraying her, her cunt slicking itself despite everything, making each thrust smoother, faster, easier.

"Let me see her face."

Someone grabbed her jaw and turned her head. A phone camera was inches from her face, recording every expression—the tears, the open-mouthed gasps, the way her eyes rolled back when Jersey changed angles and hit something deep inside her that made her whole body convulse.

"Say hi to the internet, Eunbi-ssi."

"No—"

"Say hi."

"Hi," she sobbed.

They laughed.

The man holding the phone moved behind her head. She felt his cock slapping against her cheek, her lips, and she clamped her mouth shut, shaking her head.

"Open up or I'll break your nose."

"Nnn—"

He pinched her nostrils. Eunbi held out for ten seconds, fifteen, her lungs burning—and then her mouth opened on instinct and he shoved himself inside, filling her throat in one brutal thrust.

Can't breathe. Can't breathe. CAN'T BREATHE.

Her gag reflex spasmed around him. He didn't care. He just fucked her face while Jersey fucked her cunt, and the two of them found a rhythm, pistoning into her from opposite ends while the other men waited their turns, stroking themselves, cheering like they were watching the match on the pitch instead of a woman being used like a piece of meat on the concrete.

"Fuck, she's good—"

"That throat's made for cock—"

"Tighter than my girlfriend—"

The words washed over her in fragments. Eunbi's mind was detaching, floating somewhere above her body, watching this happen to someone else. But the sensations kept dragging her back—the ache in her jaw, the burn between her legs, the wet slosh of her own fluids coating Jersey's cock as he fucked her harder, faster, his balls slapping against her ass.

Her nipples were on fire. Someone had attached clips to them—where had those come from?—and the metal teeth bit into her sensitive flesh, sending jolts of pain-pleasure-pain through her chest with every bounce of her breasts.

"She's gonna make me cum," Jersey announced.

"Do it inside."

"Yeah, breed that idol pussy—"

"No," Eunbi tried to say, but the word was just a garbled choke around the cock in her throat. "No, please, I'm not—I'm not on anything, please—"

Jersey grinned down at her. "That's the point."

He buried himself deep and came.

Eunbi felt it. Felt the hot flood of his seed splashing against her cervix, pulse after pulse after pulse, his cock twitching inside her like a living thing. He held her hips down while he emptied himself, grinding against her, making sure every drop was pressed as deep as possible.

When he pulled out, the mess followed—a thick white trickle that dripped down across her ass and pooled on the concrete.

"Next," he said.

The phone camera was still recording.

The second man didn't wait. He flipped Eunbi onto her stomach, hauled her hips up, and drove into her from behind while her face was pressed into the concrete. Her breasts scraped against the rough surface. The nipple clamps dragged and caught, pulling until she screamed.

"Fuck, she's still tight—"

"Of course she is, she's an idol, they're all tight—"

"Add another one."

"What?"

"Another cock. In her cunt. It'll stretch."

Eunbi sobbed against the floor. "You can't—that won't—"

"Yes we can," said the man fucking her mouth. He'd pulled out to let her speak, and now he was stroking himself, his cock slick with her saliva. "We can do whatever we want."

The third man knelt behind her. She felt his cock pressing against her already-stuffed cunt, the impossible pressure of trying to fit two inside her.

"It won't—"

"Shut up."

He pushed.

Eunbi's scream was hoarse, a torn thing that barely escaped her throat. The stretch was unbearable—two cocks inside her pussy, forcing her walls apart, filling her so completely that she could feel them moving against each other, could feel every vein, every ridge, every pulse of blood.

"Oh fuck," the man already inside her groaned. "I can feel him—"

"Move, you bastard—"

They moved. Not in rhythm—that would have been too organized, too mechanical for what this was. They moved like animals, rutting into her without coordination, their cocks sliding against each other inside her cunt while Eunbi's body bucked and jerked between them.

Her vision was going white. The overload was too much—pain and pleasure and humiliation and fear all churning together into something that short-circuited her brain.

Her cunt clenched around them.

"Shit, she's cumming—"

"Is she?"

"Feel it, feel her squeezing—"

Eunbi was cumming. Her body was betraying her completely, orgasm ripping through her muscles, her thighs trembling, her back arching, her mouth open in a soundless scream. The two men fucking her laughed and kept going, pounding her through it, stretching her climax into something raw and painful and endless.

The man at her mouth shoved back in. She tasted salt and skin and the bitter tang of her own throat's protests. He fucked her face with the same brutality as the men in her cunt, and Eunbi's world narrowed to the rhythm of three cocks using her body simultaneously.

Her jaw clicked. Her pussy burned. The concrete had scraped her knees raw.

And the match was still going.

She could hear the crowd's distant roar, the commentator's voice announcing Korea's first goal, the eruption of cheers that shook the stadium. Her country was winning. She was being destroyed.

"Swallow it," the man in her mouth grunted, and then his cock swelled and he came, flooding her throat with a hot, thick load that she had no choice but to gulp down or drown in.

She swallowed. His cum was bitter, viscous, coating her tongue and the back of her throat. Her eyes watered. Her throat constricted around each pulse, milking him dry while he held her head in place and groaned his satisfaction.

"Good girl," he said, pulling out. "Good fucking throat-slut."

Eunbi coughed, gasped, spat. A thick string of cum dangled from her lip. Before she could wipe it away, another man was there, pushing his cock between her lips.

"My turn."

The men in her cunt were getting close. She could feel it in the way they sped up, their thrusts becoming jerky, erratic, their breathing harsh. The one behind her came first, roaring as he emptied himself into her already-flooded pussy. The second followed seconds later, and Eunbi felt the hot twin spurts of their combined loads splashing inside her, filling her, overflowing from her stretched hole and running down her thighs.

Three men down. Three loads inside her.

How many more were waiting?

She got her answer when hands rolled her over again. She was on her back now, staring up at the ring of faces, her body a mess of sweat and cum and concrete dust. Her breasts were red and bruised from the clamps. Her pussy was gaping, leaking, the lips puffy and swollen.

"Ass next," someone said.

"No—please, not there—"

"A virgin ass? Fuck yes."

"Hold her legs up. Spread her cheeks."

Eunbi kicked, thrashed, but they were too many, too strong. Her legs were pushed up to her chest, her ass exposed, and she felt a cock pressing against her tightest hole, the pressure building, building—

"Wait," Jersey said. "Give her something to bite down on."

He shoved his belt between her teeth. Leather and sweat and the cold bite of the buckle. Eunbi bit down and then the man behind her pushed and she screamed into the leather as her ass was torn open.

No lube. No mercy. Just the brutal invasion of cock into a hole never meant for it, the burning stretch of muscle forced apart, the sensation of being split in two.

"Fuck, she's tight—"

"Tighter than her cunt—"

"Move, move, I wanna see it—"

He moved. Deep, grinding thrusts that went impossibly deep, the head of his cock pressing against places that made Eunbi's vision spark with strange, terrifying pleasure. Her body was beyond betrayal now—it was actively collaborating, her ass clenching around the invasion in a rhythm that matched his thrusts, her cunt dripping fresh slick down her thighs.

She was moaning into the belt. Moaning and drooling and rocking her hips back to meet him.

"Look at that. She loves it."

"She's a fucking whore."

"All idols are whores. They just pretend."

The phone camera captured everything. Eunbi stared into its lens and saw herself reflected back—hair tangled, face streaked with tears and cum, mouth stretched around a leather belt, body impaled on a stranger's cock. She looked ruined. She looked…

She looked like she was enjoying it.

The thought made her cum again, a sudden shattering orgasm that seized her whole body and left her twitching on the concrete. The man in her ass laughed and fucked her harder.

"Feel that? She just came on my cock."

"Do it again. Make her cum again."

He did. Over and over, until Eunbi lost count, until her orgasms blurred into one continuous state of overload, her body no longer distinguishing between pleasure and pain. She was just a hole now. Just a thing to be filled. And they filled her.

They filled her ass. They came in her ass, three more loads that pooled deep in her bowels and leaked out when the next man pulled his cock free. They filled her cunt again. They came on her face, her breasts, her hair. They took turns in her mouth until her jaw was so sore she couldn't close it, until her throat was raw from swallowing, until the taste of cum was all she knew.

At some point—she didn't know when—they moved her. Propped her against the seats so they could fuck her in new positions. Bent her over the railing so the section below could see her tits bouncing. Laid her across three seats and took her from every angle while the match played on and the crowd cheered and Korea scored again and again and again.

Four-nil. Five-nil. Six.

The goal celebrations blended with the men's climaxes. Every roar from the crowd meant another load in her body, another pair of hands on her skin, another cock forcing its way into her holes.

She was blindfolded now—someone had tied a scarf over her eyes, and the sensory deprivation made everything worse and better at the same time. She couldn't see the next violation coming. Could only feel it—the sudden hands, the unexpected penetration, the cocks that appeared in her mouth and cunt and ass with no warning.

"Please," she kept saying, her voice a ruined whisper. "Please, no more, I can't—"

"One more."

"There's always one more."

"Open up."

She opened.

The match was ending. She could tell from the crowd's sustained roar, the way the cheering had shifted from celebration to the long, sustained noise of a victory chant. Korea was going to the finals. The stadium was ecstatic.

And Eunbi was on her knees, her blindfold dark with tears, her body a canvas of handprints and bruises and drying cum, her holes dripping with the seed of men she'd never seen, her mind floating somewhere far away where the word "no" still had meaning.

A final cock pressed against her lips.

"Last one, idol-girl. Make it good."

She opened her mouth.

The man shoved in—and then paused.

"Wait. I want to try something."

Hands lifted her. Moved her. Positioned her on her back with her head hanging off the edge of a seat. Her throat was a straight line now, open, vulnerable.

"Throat-fuck position. Goes all the way down."

"Fuck, really?"

"Watch."

The cock slid into her mouth, and then kept going—past her soft palate, into her throat, down, down, until Eunbi's neck bulged with the outline of it and she couldn't breathe at all, could only lay there with her throat stretched around him while the men above her groaned in appreciation.

"Look at that."

"You can see it in her neck."

"Fuck her throat, fuck her throat—"

He fucked her throat. Long, deep strokes that bottomed out against her collarbones, that cut off her air for seconds at a time, that left her lightheaded and floating and strangely, impossibly calm.

This is what I am now, she thought. Just a hole. Just a throat. Just a place for men to put their cocks.

Her cunt was dripping. Her body was still betraying her. Still wanting more.

The man in her throat came, and she swallowed without being told, her throat milking him dry, his cum sliding directly into her stomach with no chance to taste it.

Then he pulled out.

The blindfold came off.

Eunbi blinked in the sudden light, in the roar of the stadium, in the sight of a dozen men zipping up their pants, their faces satisfied, their attention already turning back to the pitch where the Korean team was doing a victory lap.

Jersey knelt down beside her. His phone was in his hand. Her own face stared back at her from the screen—a still image from the video he'd taken, her expression caught mid-scream, her body impaled on two cocks at once.

"We're going to post this," he said, almost conversationally. "Unless you want to make a deal."

Eunbi's voice was a croak. "What deal?"

"There's an afterparty. VIPs. Important people. They'd pay a lot for a night with Kwon Eunbi."

"I—"

"Or we post the video. Your choice."

The stadium lights blazed down on her naked, ruined body. Eighty thousand fans were still cheering. The world was still turning.

And Eunbi realized, with a strange, hollow clarity, that her choice had been taken from her the moment she'd stepped into this stadium.

"Fine," she whispered. "Fine. I'll—I'll go to the afterparty."

Jersey smiled. "Good girl. Now get dressed. You've got a long night ahead of you."

He tossed her the torn remains of her dress and walked away, leaving Eunbi alone on the concrete, covered in cum and bruises, with the cameras still flashing and the crowd still roaring and nothing ahead of her but more.

Twenty-two years old and her social circle consisted of a gelding who nickered when she brought apples. She'd tried the apps. Tried the community college mixers. But the silence always crept back in, thick and suffocating, and she'd find herself back at the fence line, fingers buried in Thunder's mane while he chewed contentedly.

The laptop glowed on her unmade bed, browser tabs multiplying like rabbits. What started as idle curiosity at 1 AM had spiraled. A forum thread titled "Confessions You Can't Say Out Loud" had caught her eye on some anonymous imageboard. Women—dozens of them—describing things SinB had never allowed herself to imagine. Explicit things. Detailed things. Things that made her thighs press together before she even realized what she was doing.

They can't all be making it up.

Her fingers trembled as she typed. The search bar filled with words that made her stomach flip. Videos appeared. Thumbnails she couldn't look away from. She clicked one.

"Holy shit," she breathed.

The sound that escaped her wasn't disgust. It was something else entirely. Something that settled low in her belly and pulsed.

She watched three more. Then five. By 3 AM, her pajama shorts were discarded on the floor and her hand moved with practiced rhythm between her legs, the slick, wet shlick-shlick-shlick filling the dark room as she stared at the screen, mouth slightly open, pupils blown wide.

"Oh fuck," she whispered, not to anyone. Just to the night. Just to the need coiling tight inside her.

The next morning came gray and humid. SinB stood at the kitchen counter, coffee untouched, staring out at the pasture. Thunder had wandered closer to the barn, tail swishing at flies. Perfectly innocent. Perfectly unaware of what his owner had been doing until the early hours.

It's just a fantasy. Everyone has weird fantasies. Doesn't mean I'd actually—

But the thought wouldn't finish. Because underneath the shame was something hungrier. Something that remembered how those women had sounded in the videos. The way their voices cracked and soared. The way they'd moaned like nothing else existed in the world except the feeling of being stretched full.

"Mmmngh." SinB pressed her palms against her eyes. "Get it together."

The day dragged. She went through the motions—mucked the stall, checked the water trough, measured out feed. Every time Thunder shifted his weight, every time his tail flicked against his hindquarters, she looked. And then looked away. And then looked again.

By evening, the decision had made itself. Not consciously. Not with any clear moment of choice. Her body just started moving differently. Slower. More deliberate. She put on the sundress instead of jeans. The one with the thin straps that slipped off her shoulder if she wasn't careful. No bra. The fabric whispered against her nipples as she walked and they stiffened in response, pebbled peaks visible through the cotton.

What are you doing. What the fuck are you doing.

The barn smelled of hay and musk and the warm, earthy scent of horse. Thunder turned his massive head when she entered, ears pricking forward. SinB's heart hammered so hard she could feel it in her throat, a rapid thump-thump-thump that made her dizzy.

"Hey, boy," she managed, voice cracking. "Just me."

Her hand found his neck, stroking the coarse hair in long, slow passes. He blew out a breath, lips fluttering. Calm. Trusting.

He's huge. He could hurt me without even meaning to.

Thunder shifted, and she saw it. The black sheath against his belly, and beneath it, starting to descend, the tip emerging. Pink and foreign and already thicker than her wrist. SinB's breath caught. A tremor ran from her scalp down to her toes.

"This is insane," she said out loud, but her hand was already moving lower, tracing the curve of his flank. The muscle twitched under her palm.

She'd seen it before, of course. Years of grooming, of casual proximity. But she'd never looked at it like this. Never let herself register the sheer impossible size of what a horse carried between its legs. The tip continued to emerge, glistening with moisture, and SinB dropped to her knees in the straw without deciding to. Her sundress pooled around her thighs. The straw pricked her skin.

"Glrk." The sound came from her own throat, involuntary, as she wrapped both hands around the shaft. Her fingers didn't meet. Couldn't. The flesh was hot and surprisingly soft, velvet over iron, and it pulsed against her palms with his heartbeat. Ba-dump. Ba-dump. Ba-dump.

"Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck," she chanted, not pulling away. Not even considering it.

Thunder snorted but didn't move. His tail swished once, twice. Then stilled.

SinB leaned closer. The musk was overwhelming now, thick and animal and somehow not unpleasant at all. Her mouth watered. She pressed her lips to the tip and the taste flooded her senses—salt and earth and something primal she had no name for. Her tongue darted out, lapping at the bead of clear fluid that welled from the slit.

Slrk. Slrrrk.

Her jaw ached as she opened wider, trying to take just the head into her mouth. It stretched her lips obscenely, the corners burning with the strain. Her tongue flattened against the underside, tracing the ridge, and Thunder's weight shifted. He nickered low in his chest, a sound she'd never heard before.

"You like that?" she murmured against his flesh, half-delirious. "You like my fucking mouth on your cock?"

The vulgarity felt good. Liberating. The words she'd only ever typed or thought now spoken aloud to her only companion, her only—fuck, was he her lover now? Was this what they were?

She worked her hands up and down the shaft while her mouth focused on the tip, spit running freely down her chin, dripping audibly onto the straw below. Schlp. Schlp. Schlllp. The sounds were obscene and she loved them. Loved how wet she was getting just from this, her cunt clenching around nothing, her arousal soaking through the thin fabric of her dress.

"Need more," she gasped, pulling back. A string of saliva connected her lower lip to the cockhead, stretching thin before snapping. "Need you inside me, Thunder. Please."

She stood on shaky legs and turned around, bending forward to brace her hands on a hay bale. The dress she hiked up over her hips with trembling fingers. No panties—she hadn't bothered putting them on. Her pussy was exposed to the warm barn air, lips swollen and slick, the scent of her desire mingling with the horse's musk.

Splortch.

Thunder nudged forward, the blunt tip of his cock sliding through her slick folds. Not penetrating yet. Just exploring. Just painting her with his own wetness. SinB whimpered, pushing back.

"Right there. Fuck, please, right fucking—"

The head caught. And then sank in.

Shluuuurk.

The sound of her body stretching to accommodate him was louder than anything she'd ever heard. Louder than the rain. Louder than her own screaming heartbeat. Her cunt resisted, then yielded, inner walls gripping and spasming as inch after impossible inch pushed deeper.

"Hnnnngh—oh—oh god—" Her knuckles went white on the hay bale. Her vision blurred. Every nerve ending in her body had relocated to that single point of entry, that ring of muscle being forced wider than it had ever imagined possible.

It hurt. It felt like being split in half. But underneath the pain was pleasure so intense she couldn't breathe through it, something building and building with every pulse of that massive cock inside her.

Thunder made a sound deep in his chest and pushed again. Deeper. So deep she swore she could feel him in her throat. Her belly bulged slightly, a visible ridge when she looked down, and the sight made her moan like a wounded thing.

Squelch. Gurgle. Splortch.

The rhythm built slowly. Horse and woman found it together—his instinct, her desperation. Each thrust forced more of him inside, stretching her cunt in ways human fingers and toys never could. The wet sounds of their coupling echoed off the barn walls, a symphony of slick flesh and animal need.

"Fuck me," SinB sobbed. "Fuck me, oh fuck, don't stop, please don't fucking stop—"

Her orgasm hit without warning. One moment she was climbing, the next she was crashing, her pussy clamping down on Thunder's cock with rhythmic, milking pulses that made her scream. Squirt—splrk—squiiiirt. Fluid gushed from her, drenching his shaft, splattering onto the straw, running in rivulets down her thighs. She'd never come so hard in her life, and he wasn't even finished.

Thunder's pace quickened. His breathing grew harsher, great bellows of air that stirred the loose straw around them. The base of his cock began to swell, a flare that pressed against her stretched entrance with impossible pressure.

SinB's eyes widened. "Wait—what—"

The knot pushed past her lips and locked them together. Tied. Stuck. The realization made her moan again, a fresh wave of arousal mixing with the aftershocks still rippling through her.

Gllllrrrk.

He was going to come inside her. Fill her with seed meant for a mare, breed her until it dripped from her used cunt and pooled on the floor. The thought was terrifying. The thought was everything she'd been searching for since she'd first clicked on that video.

"Please," she whispered, and the word broke open, raw and true. "Please, yes. Fill me up. Pump me full of your fucking cum. I want it. I want it so bad—"

Thunder grunted, a sound that shook through his entire massive frame and into her, through the place they were joined. The first pulse of his release hit her cervix like a liquid fist, hot and thick and endless. Pulse after pulse, stream after stream, the horse emptied himself inside her willing body while SinB hung there impaled, mouth open in a silent scream of ecstasy.

Shlosh. Shlosh. Spluuurt.

The knot was still buried deep inside her, a thick, pulsing anchor that locked her to Thunder's massive body. SinB's fingers clawed at the hay bale, splinters digging under her nails as another surge of hot seed flooded her already stuffed cunt. The sensation was obscene—a wet, internal shloooosh that made her stomach feel heavy and full.

"Oh fuck," she whimpered, voice hoarse from screaming. "Oh fuck, there's so much."

Thunder's cock twitched again. Pulse. Pulse. Splurt. More cum, thick and ropey, painting her inner walls white. She could feel it sloshing inside her with every tiny movement, could hear the faint glrrrk of fluid shifting in her distended belly. The base of his shaft remained swollen, plugging her entrance so effectively that not a single drop leaked past.

Minutes passed. Maybe longer. SinB lost track of time, suspended in a haze of endorphins and animal musk. Her sundress was a crumpled mess around her waist, sweat-soaked and streaked with straw dust. Her thighs trembled, glazed with a mix of her own arousal and the thin rivulets of fluid that had escaped during their initial coupling.

Thunder snorted, shifting his weight. The movement tugged at her stretched cunt and she gasped, a fresh jolt of pleasure-pain zinging up her spine.

"Easy, boy," she breathed. "Easy."

But even as she said it, her hips pushed back against him. An involuntary twitch. A silent plea for more. Her pussy clenched around his still-hard shaft, and SinB bit her lip hard enough to taste copper.

He's still hard. After all that, he's still fucking hard.

The knowledge ignited something dangerous in her chest. All those videos she'd watched, all those forum posts she'd devoured—they'd mentioned this. Stallions could go multiple times. Could breed for hours. Could fill a mare over and over until she was swimming in seed.

Glrrrk.

Thunder's knot began to shrink. Slowly. Incrementally. SinB felt every millimeter of its retreat, the way her abused hole tried to close behind it and couldn't, gaped wide and dripping. When the flare finally popped free with a wet schlorp, a flood of cum gushed out of her, splattering onto the straw in thick white ropes.

"No, no, no—" She reached back with one hand, frantically trying to press the spend back inside, fingers sliding through the mess. "Stay in me, fuck, stay inside—"

Her cunt clenched. More cum oozed past her fingers, running down her wrist. The loss felt catastrophic, like watching water drain from a canteen in the desert. She needed it. Needed to be full. The emptiness was unbearable now that she knew what being filled felt like.

SinB pushed herself upright on shaking legs. Turned around. Thunder's cock was still fully extended, glistening with their mixed fluids, the dark flesh veined and impossibly thick. The sight made her mouth water again, made her pussy flutter with want despite the ache.

"One round isn't enough," she said, and her voice sounded strange to her own ears—lower, huskier, stripped of the nervous girl who'd walked into this barn. "One round is never gonna be fucking enough."

She grabbed the curry comb from its hook on the stall wall. Ran it over Thunder's flank in long, soothing strokes. The horse's ear flicked back toward her, and he made a low sound of contentment.

"That's it. That's my good boy. Just relax while I—" she swallowed hard, "—while I get you ready again."

The grooming was as much for her as for him. The repetitive motion steadied her trembling hands. Gave her time to think. To plan. She'd dreamed about this, hadn't she? In the dark of her bedroom, three fingers buried in her cunt, she'd imagined being used over and over. Being nothing but a warm hole to fill. Being bred until her body couldn't take any more.

And now she could have it. All she had to do was keep him interested.

SinB dropped the curry comb. Moved around to Thunder's head, pressing her forehead to his broad nose. His breath was warm on her face, smelling of hay and sweet feed.

"You're not done with me yet," she whispered. "I'm gonna make sure you can fuck me all night. Gonna be your personal cumdump. Would you like that, baby? Huh?"

Thunder nickered softly.

She took it as a yes.

The first thing she did was bring water. A bucket of cool, clean water that she held up to Thunder's muzzle while he drank, her other hand stroking the coarse hair of his neck. His cock had retracted slightly during the grooming, sheathed itself in that black pouch of skin, but she knew how to coax it back out.

"Drink up," she murmured. "You're gonna need your energy."

When he'd had his fill, SinB set the bucket aside and turned her attention to the matter at hand. She dropped to her knees in the straw again—the same spot, still damp with her juices and his cum—and reached between his hind legs.

Shliiick.

Her fingers found the sheath, warm and slightly tacky with dried fluid. She wrapped her hand around it, squeezing gently, and Thunder's weight shifted. His tail lifted.

"That's it," she cooed. "That's my fucking boy."

The tip emerged. Pink. Glossy. SinB leaned in and took it into her mouth without hesitation this time. The taste was saltier now, mixed with the remnants of her own cunt, and she moaned around the flesh as her tongue worked the sensitive ridge.

Slrk. Slrrrrrk. Mmmnnnph.

Her jaw ached from earlier, but she pushed past it. Relaxed her throat like she'd read about. Took him deeper, deeper, until her nose pressed against the warm skin of his sheath and her eyes watered from the fullness.

"Glrk—glrrrk—" The sounds were animal. She was making animal sounds now, spit and pre-cum bubbling at the corners of her stretched lips, dripping in long strands down her chin and onto her bare breasts. Her nipples were hard as pebbles, dark against the pale swell of her chest, and she reached up with her free hand to pinch one, hard, making herself moan around the cock in her throat.

Thunder's hips bucked. The movement was slight but it pushed another inch into her mouth and SinB gagged, throat spasming around the intrusion. She pulled back, coughing, spit flying.

"Fuck—okay—okay, slow down, I've got you—"

But her cunt was dripping again. The gagging had made her wetter, somehow. Her body had interpreted the struggle as more foreplay, more preparation, and when she looked down at herself she could see her arousal glistening on her inner thighs, fresh and slick.

He could hurt me. He could shove too deep and tear something and I'd be bleeding out in the straw and nobody would find me for days—

The thought made her pussy clench.

She was so far past the point of caring.

"Screw it," she muttered, and climbed to her feet.

The hay bale wasn't enough this time. She needed something more stable. Something that would let her ride him properly, control the depth and pace while she milked every last drop of cum from his balls.

The mounting block.

It sat in the corner of the barn, a three-step wooden platform she used for saddling. SinB dragged it into the center of the aisle, her arm muscles burning with the effort. The wood scraped against the floor, raising dust, and Thunder watched her with calm dark eyes.

"Don't look at me like that," she said, laughing a little hysterically. "Like I'm crazy. You're the one who just fucked your owner's brains out."

She positioned the block near his hindquarters. Climbed onto the top step. From this height, she could lean back against Thunder's flank and line herself up perfectly, her spread thighs level with his cock.

Shluiiick.

The sound of her fingers parting her pussy lips was obscenely loud in the quiet barn. She was so swollen down there, so wet and open, her cunt a gaping, hungry mouth that drooled clear fluid onto the wooden block.

"Right here, baby," she breathed, reaching back with her other hand to grip his shaft. "Right fucking here."

She guided the tip to her entrance. Pressed down. And sank onto him with a wet, sucking shlllloooooorp that echoed off the rafters.

"HUUUUUNGH—"

The penetration was so much deeper from this angle. His cock speared up into her, past her cervix, into places she didn't know she had. SinB's head snapped back, dark hair cascading down her spine, mouth open in a soundless scream. Her inner walls stretched around him, gripping and releasing in rhythmic spasms, trying desperately to accommodate the impossible girth.

"Fuck me," she gasped, when speech returned. "Fuck me, look at my belly, fucking LOOK at it—"

She grabbed her sundress, yanked it up higher, stared down at the obscene bulge distending her lower abdomen. The outline of his cock was visible through her skin, a thick ridge that moved when she shifted her hips.

Squelch. Shlorp. Splrtch.

Slowly, she began to move. Lifting herself up until only the head remained inside her stretched cunt, then dropping back down, taking all of him at once. The wet sounds of their fucking filled the barn, a lewd symphony accompanied by her breathless moans.

"Oh—oh god—you're so deep—Thunder, baby, you're so fucking deep—"

She braced her hands on his flank, using the solid muscle for leverage as she bounced on his cock. Her breasts swung with the motion, nipples catching the cool barn air, and she wished for a moment that someone could see her like this. That someone could witness the farmer's daughter, the lonely virgin farm girl, riding her horse's cock like a common whore while she babbled obscenities into the hay-scented dark.

"Wanted this for so long," she panted. "Wanted a big cock to fill me up, wanted to be split open, wanted to be bred like a fucking animal—"

Sspssspsssst.

His pre-cum was mixing with her juices now, creating a slick, frothy lube that made the glide smoother. Faster. SinB increased her pace, thighs burning with the effort, using every ounce of farm-bred strength to fuck herself on his shaft.

"Gonna make you come again," she grunted. "Gonna make you fill me up until I can't hold any more. Until my fucking womb is drowning in it."

Thunder's breathing was getting heavier. She could feel his ribcage expanding against her back, could hear the great bellows of air rushing through his nostrils. His cock was swelling again, that tell-tale flare beginning to form at the base.

"Yes—yes—give me that knot—I want it—fucking give it to me—"

She slammed herself down one more time and the knot pushed past her lips with a meaty pop. Locked them together. She was impaled, stuck, and the sensation triggered a fresh wave of pleasure that had her clawing at Thunder's flank and screaming.

Hrrrrnnnnggghhhh—

The second orgasm rolled through her in waves. Her pussy clamped down on the knot like a fist, milking it, demanding what it had to give. And Thunder gave it. His release came in hot, thick pulses, each one audible— splurt, splurt, SPLUUUURT —as he pumped his seed directly into her waiting womb.

"Yesssss," SinB hissed. "Yesssss, fill me, breed me, pump me fucking full—"

She could feel it pooling inside her. The warmth spreading through her lower belly. The pressure building as more and more cum flooded her already stuffed cunt. When she looked down again, her stomach was visibly distended, round and taut like she was three months pregnant.

"That's it," she cooed, stroking his flank with trembling hands. "That's so much cum, baby. So much good fucking cum for your girl."

Shloooosh. Gurgle. Splsssh.

Thunder kept releasing. Long after a human man would have been spent, the horse continued to empty himself inside her. SinB lost count of the pulses. Lost track of time entirely. She just hung there on his knot, limp and sated, while her body was used as a receptacle for his endless seed.

At some point, she started laughing. Soft, delirious giggles that shook her shoulders and made the cum slosh inside her.

"I'm such a fucking mess," she whispered. "I'm a cum-filled, cock-stuffed, animal-fucking mess and I never want to be anything else."

When the knot finally receded and Thunder's cock slipped out of her, the flood that followed was catastrophic. Cum poured from her gaping cunt in thick white waterfalls, splattering onto the mounting block, running down the wooden steps in rivulets. She tried to hold it in—clenched as hard as she could—but her muscles were too exhausted, too stretched, and the seed just kept coming.

Floooosh. Splrrtch. Drip. Drip. Drip.

"Shit," she muttered, watching the growing puddle beneath her. "Gonna need to clean that up later."

But not yet. Not now. Because even though Thunder had just come twice, even though his cock was finally beginning to retract into its sheath, SinB wasn't satisfied. The hunger was still there, gnawing at her insides, demanding more-more-more.

Third time's the charm.

She climbed off the mounting block on wobbly legs, cum still trickling down her thighs. Her sundress was ruined—soaked through with fluids and sweat—so she pulled it over her head and tossed it aside. Naked now, except for the straw clinging to her damp skin and the sheen of horse cum coating her lower body.

Thunder was watching her. His dark eyes followed her movements as she walked—no, swaggered—to the feed room, her bare ass swaying with each step. She could feel his gaze on her, and the thought made her skin prickle with heat.

"Don't go anywhere," she called over her shoulder. "Mama's just getting some supplies."

The feed room was small and dusty, filled with burlap sacks of grain and the sweet smell of molasses. SinB grabbed a handful of sweet feed—the kind laced with molasses and vitamins, the kind that made Thunder practically drool—and returned to the barn aisle.

"Look what I've got," she sang, holding out her palm. "Your favorite."

Thunder's ears pricked forward. His massive head swung toward her, nostrils flaring as he caught the scent. The soft velvet of his muzzle brushed against her palm as he lipped up the treat, leaving a trail of warm slobber on her skin.

"That's my good boy. Such a good fucking boy." She scratched behind his ear, pressing her naked body against his shoulder. Her breasts flattened against the coarse black hair, nipples catching on the strands, and she shivered at the sensation. "You want more? Huh? You want to fuck me again?"

Slrrrp. His tongue dragged across her palm, searching for any last trace of molasses.

"I'll take that as a yes."

She had a plan now. A delicious, filthy plan that had her cunt dripping fresh arousal onto the barn floor. One of the videos she'd watched had featured a woman on her hands and knees in a pasture, and SinB had come so hard to that visual that she'd nearly passed out. Something about being on all fours, naked in the dirt, presenting herself like a mare in heat—it spoke to a part of her psychology she hadn't known existed.

The barn door creaked as she pushed it open. Outside, the rain had finally stopped, leaving the world wet and glistening under a blanket of stars. The grass squelched under her bare feet as she walked to the small paddock adjacent to the barn—an enclosed space where Thunder could move freely without wandering too far.

"Come on, baby," she called, and Thunder followed. Of course he followed. He trusted her completely, this massive animal who could kill her with a single kick. The thought made her heart swell with something that felt dangerously close to love.

In the paddock, the ground was softer. Mud and grass and the clean scent of rain-washed earth. SinB dropped to her hands and knees under the open sky, the mud cool against her shins. She was facing away from Thunder, presenting her ass to him like an offering, and the vulnerability of the position made her pulse race.

Schpsssh.

Her pussy was already drooling. A string of clear fluid stretched from her swollen lips to the mud below, catching the starlight. When she reached back and spread herself open with two fingers, the wet sound was loud in the quiet night.

"See that?" she called over her shoulder. "See how wet I am for you? This cunt is yours. Fucking yours. Come and take it."

Thunder's ears swiveled forward. She watched him approach from the corner of her eye—seventeen hands of muscle and instinct, his cock already emerging from its sheath, glistening and ready. The sight of it, the sheer impossible size of it, made her mouth fall open and a thin whine escape from her throat.

"That's it. Come here. Come fuck your girl."

His muzzle nudged her shoulder first. A gentle touch, almost questioning. SinB reached up and stroked his nose, pressing a kiss to the velvet softness.

"I want this. I want you. Please, Thunder."

His cock found her entrance on its own, guided by scent and heat and the primal drive to mate. The tip pressed against her swollen folds, sliding up through her slickness, catching briefly on her clit. SinB's arms nearly buckled.

"Yes—right there—"

Schluuuurk.

He pushed in. One long, smooth thrust that buried half his length inside her in a single motion. The sound was wetter now, messier, her cunt still full of his previous loads and her own juices. Cum squelched out around his shaft, splattering onto the mud between her knees.

"OH—FUCK—OH—"

Somehow, impossibly, he felt even bigger in this position. Gravity wedded his cock deeper into her body with every thrust, the angle forcing him against places inside her that hadn't been stimulated yet. A spot high up, near her cervix, that made white light explode behind her eyes every time he hit it.

Squelch. Splrtch. Schlllp. Schlllp. Schlllp.

The rhythm was faster now. More urgent. Thunder had learned her body in the span of two rounds, knew how deep to go, knew what made her scream. His hooves churned the mud as he pistoned into her, his massive body dwarfing her, making her feel small and fragile and utterly, completely dominated.

"Yeah—yeah—fuck me—fuck your little human whore—breed your fucking cumslut—"

The words were filthy. They spilled out of her without thought, without filter, all the porn she'd consumed and all the fantasies she'd nurtured finally finding voice. She was drooling into the mud, drooling and moaning and pushing back against each thrust, meeting him halfway.

"Gonna be your broodmare—gonna let you knock me up—gonna carry your fucking foal—"

A particularly deep thrust stole her breath. Her arms gave out and she face-planted into the mud, ass still high in the air, still being fucked with relentless precision. The muck was cold against her cheek, smelled of earth and rain, and she didn't care. Didn't care about anything except the cock splitting her open and the knot that was starting to swell again.

Splrtch—squelch—gurgle—

The sounds of their coupling had become a language. SinB could read the approach of his orgasm in the way the squelches got wetter, more frantic, in the way his breathing changed and his hooves stamped harder into the mud.

"Give it to me," she begged, voice muffled by the dirt. "Fill me up again. Pump me so full I can taste it."

KNOT.

The flare locked past her entrance with a wet, sucking pop that her body felt more than heard. And then the release—God, the release—hot and thick and so fucking abundant. Spluuurt. Shloooosh. Splsssssh. Pulse after pulse of seed flooding into her, mixing with the cum already there, overfilling her until—

Glrrrk.

It started leaking out. Even with the knot plugging her hole, there was too much. A thin trickle of white escaped around the seal, running down her inner thigh in a warm rivulet. The pressure in her belly was immense, a delicious fullness that made her feel heavy and claimed and utterly satisfied.

"More," SinB whispered into the mud. "Please. More."

And Thunder gave more.

Round three bled into round four. Round four became round five. SinB lost count somewhere around the time Thunder's cum started dripping from her nose—she'd sneezed after inhaling some straw dust and the next thing she knew, white fluid was running over her upper lip. She licked it clean without thinking, swallowing the salty-bitter taste.

They'd moved back to the barn sometime around dawn. The gray light was filtering through the cracks in the walls, dust motes dancing in the pale beams. SinB was draped over a hay bale for the—fifth time? Sixth? Her body had become a vessel, a receptacle, a warm hole for Thunder's endless need.

Shlooop. Schlorp. Drip.

His cock slid out of her once more, followed by the now-familiar flood of cum. But this time, when she looked down at herself, what she saw made her moan out loud.

Her belly was round. Actually, visibly round. The skin was stretched taut over her abdomen, the indent of her navel nearly flattened. She looked four months pregnant—maybe five—and when she pressed a hand to the swell, she could feel the fluid shifting inside her.

Slossssh.

"Holy fuck," she breathed. "I'm full. I'm actually fucking full."

She pressed harder and cum gushed out of her cunt, a thick white waterfall that pooled on the hay bale and dripped onto the floor. But even after the gush, her belly was still round. Still heavy. The rest had settled deeper inside her, in her womb, in places she couldn't push out no matter how hard she tried.

Bred. Fully bred.

Thunder was finally, finally showing signs of exhaustion. His cock had retreated into its sheath, and he was standing with one hind leg cocked, head drooping. When SinB staggered over to him on unsteady legs, he blew a soft breath into her hair.

"Good boy," she murmured, pressing her forehead to his muzzle. "Good fucking boy. You did so good. Gave me so much cum."

The barn smelled of sex. Overwhelmingly so. The sweet-musk scent of horse mixed with the tang of semen and the earthy smell of her own arousal. Every surface seemed to glisten with fluid—her thighs, the straw, the mounting block, the hay bale, the dirt floor of the paddock visible through the open barn door.

SinB should have been disgusted. Should have been horrified at what she'd done, at the mess she'd made, at the perversion she'd become.

Instead, she felt something she hadn't felt in years.

Full.

Not just physically—though God, was she physically full—but emotionally. The hollow ache that had lived in her chest since her father left, since her mother chose the city over her, since every friend she'd ever had drifted away into their own adult lives—that ache was quiet now. Muffled. Buried under layers of animal affection and the bone-deep satisfaction of being used completely.

"I love you," she told Thunder. The words came out cracked but sincere. "You're the only one who's ever been here for me. The only one who stayed."

His tail swished lazily.

She cleaned up eventually. Sort of. Grabbed a bucket of water and a rag and wiped down the worst of the mess—the mounting block, the hay bale, her own cum-slick skin. The fluid that had pooled on the barn floor she covered with fresh straw. It would dry. It would all dry, and nobody would ever know.

Nobody except her.

And she'd know forever.

SinB pulled on a clean pair of overalls from the laundry room, leaving the ruined sundress crumpled in a corner. Her hair was a disaster—tangled, straw-studded, stiff with dried fluids in places—but she couldn't summon the energy to wash it. Later. She'd shower later.

Right now, she needed to lie down.

She curled up in the empty stall next to Thunder's, burrowing into a pile of clean straw. He was on the other side of the wood divider, close enough that she could hear his steady breathing, close enough that if she reached through the slats she could touch his flank.

"Goodnight, baby," she whispered.

Thunder nickered softly.

Her hand drifted to her stomach. Still round. Still full. When she pressed down gently, she could feel the liquid shift inside her, a warm and pleasant weight. She imagined what it would be like if it took. If somehow, impossibly, her body adapted and a seed found purchase. A hybrid. A miracle. A permanent reminder of what she'd done and who she'd done it with.

The thought should have terrified her.

Aphrodite incarnate. A goddess coming to Earth. Chou Tzuyu is wearing a cream sweater that's stretched tight across her tits, and yoga pants that should be illegal. Her hair is up in a loose ponytail, with a few strands framing her gorgeous face. And she has the most sweet, most motherly smile on her face.

Anyone who hasn't seen her with lips stretched around a cock would fall for that image in a heart beat.

You, of course, know better.

"Oh you're here!" She gushes the cookie-cutter host greeting. "The girls are so excited—Diana! Hanna! Your friend is here!"

From deeper in the house you hear a faint "Mrow!"

Your sister visibly cringes. Even poor Tzuyu's bright smile falters slightly before she recovers.

"They're… going through a phase," Tzuyu explains weakly, stepping aside. Your sister sulks past like she's heading to her own execution, shooting you a venomous glare as she goes.

The second she's out of sight, Tzuyu's hand brushes yours.

"Coffee?" She asks, entirely too loudly for the empty hallway you're standing in, but her eyes are screaming a very different request. Something close to I need you to fuck me until I forget my own name.

"Yeah. Coffee sounds great."

"Perfect." The way she draws the word out, followed by her dragging her tongue across her lips, should damn well be considered foreplay.

From what you assume is the playroom, your sister's defeated sigh carries over to where you're standing, followed by synchronized meowing.

You purse your lips to contain your laughter as Tzuyu turns to the wall, tapping her forehead against it softly.

"Not. A fucking. Word." She murmurs.

You make a zipping motion across your mouth.

Tzuyu leads you to the kitchen. Those yoga pants hug the curve of her ass, outlining the thick thighs you've had the pleasure of being trapped between more times than you can count.

You're already plotting all the possible ways to get between them again today.

She pours two cups of coffee that you both know neither of you will touch. Her husband is at work as usual. The man is practically married to his job, which means Tzuyu is perpetually horny.

Not that you're complaining, of course.

"So," she starts, leaning against the counter in a way that makes her tits press together, "I was thinking—"

"Bedroom?"

Fuck the small talk. You both know why you're here, why bother with the bullshit game of cat and mouse?

Her expression changes instantly, that sweet, motherly mask cracking.

"Eager today, are we?"

"You sent me that photo during my lecture." You move toward her. "I've been hard thinking about those thick fucking thighs of yours the entire way over here."

She bites her lip, grabbing your shirt and pulling you close. "My bedroom. Now."

No need to say that twice.

"So impatient," you tease, but in no way shape or form are you complaining as she takes your hand and leads you out of the kitchen.

The stairs feel endless. Tzuyu keeps glancing back at you, tugging her bottom lip with her teeth, and you're becoming very tempted to say fuck it and rail her against the wall halfway up.

But the bedroom is probably smarter. And it has plenty of pillows for you to press her face into, which is a great bonus.

The second you're through the door, she's on you. Mouth crashing into yours, her hands pulling at your clothes, backing you towards the bed. You let her push you down onto the mattress, watching her stand over you, chest heaving.

Damn she's beautiful.

She climbs onto the bed, straddles your hips, grinds down against the bulge in your jeans. "You have no idea how badly I need this."

"Why don't you show me then?"

She doesn't bother answering with words.

Her hands find the hem of your shirt, pulling it up and over your head. You do your best to help, shrugging out of it. The second it's off she runs her hands down your chest, nails dragging lightly over your skin.

You reach for her sweater but she swats your hands away. "Patience."

"That's not my strong suit and you know it." You pout.

"I know." She grinds down harder, and you can feel the heat spreading through both layers of fabric. "That's why this is fun."

She leans down, mouth finding your neck. Kisses turn into bites, her teeth scraping against your skin. Your hands busy themselves by gripping her hips, fingers digging into the yoga pants.

"God I missed you," she murmurs against your throat. "Missed this."

"It's only been like three days."

"Exactly, three days too long." Her hands move to your jeans, popping the button. "I've been going crazy waiting."

The zipper comes down and she's working your jeans off, and you lift your hips to help. Once they're gone she sits back, taking in the sight of you in only your boxers, your cock straining against the fabric.

"Look at you," she purrs, palming you through the thin material as you hiss. "So hard already."

"Your fault," you manage.

"I know." The smirk on her face grows. "I'm very good at what I do."

She is. Too good, sometimes. You watch her lean down, hair falling around her face, and just before her mouth reaches your cock—

"Meow," you say.

She freezes.

Sits back up slowly.

The look on her face is full of murderous intent.

"What," she starts, voice barely a whisper, "did you just say?"

"I—" you start, but you're already laughing because the look on her face is just priceless. "I couldn't help it, the girls—"

"You think that's funny huh?"

Before you can react, she moves. Her hands shove against your chest, and she uses her weight to pin you down as those deadly thighs slide up on either side of your head.

Ah fuck.

"Oh, Tzu wait—"

Too late. They're locked around your skull.

The pressure is both immediate and immaculate. Warm, smooth skin pressing against your head, cutting off everything except the sight of her yoga pants stretched tight across her pussy right in front of your face. It's easy to see the damp spot forming.

Your hands fly to her thighs on instinct, gripping the firm muscle underneath.

"Think you're funny?" She squeezes harder. Stars dance at the edges of your vision. "Meowing at me in my own bedroom?"

You try to respond but what comes out is muffled against her skin.

"That's what I thought." She grinds forward, dragging the warm, damp fabric across your face, and you groan into her.

She's appears to be trying to suffocate you. Not that your dick has any complaints.

"Nothing to say now?" Another squeeze. Your vision starts going fuzzy. "No more stupid jokes?"

Your fingers dig into her thighs and you manage to turn your head just enough to press your mouth against her inner thigh.

She shudders and the grip loosens ever so slightly.

You drag your tongue along the inside of her thigh, and she makes a choked sound that manages to make your already rock-hard cock even harder.

"You're such a brat," she breathes, but there's no real anger anymore.

You hook your fingers into the waistband of those damn yoga pants and pull. She lifts her hips just enough to let you drag them down along with her panties, and finally, FINALLY, that pretty pussy is revealed to your gaze.

Beautiful.

Her pussy is bare, inches away from your face. It's glistening and swollen, her clit already peeking out.

"You going to suffocate me before I can eat this pussy?" Your voice comes out rough.

"Afterwards," she decides, lowering herself back onto your mouth.

The first taste of her makes you groan into her pussy. She's absolutely soaked, and you waste no time before getting to work, licking broad strokes through her folds before placing special focus on her clit.

Her thighs tighten around your head.

"Fuck—right there—"

You circle her clit with your tongue, then suck it between your lips. Her whole body jerks violently above you,

"Don't stop, don't you dare fucking stop—"

Yeah. Like you had any fucking intention of doing that.

You double down, sucking her clit even harder, your tongue working in tight circles. You can barely breathe with her thighs clamping your head like a vice, but god the way she's gasping above you makes it all worthwhile.

"Fuck, fuck, just like that—" Her hips start rolling, grinding her pussy against your mouth. She's chasing her orgasm, using you, and your cock is throbbing so fucking hard in your boxers its borderline painful.

You slide your tongue down, pushing it into her entrance. Her soaked pussy drips down your chin, the sweet taste of it making you drool. Your hands grip her ass harder, kneading as you pull her down onto your face.

"Oh god, oh fuck—" Her voice pitches higher. She's close, you can feel it. Her thighs shake, her pussy clenching around your tongue.

You pull back just enough to suck her clit between your lips again, and that does it.

Tzuyu cums with a loud cry, her whole body going rigid above you. Her thighs lock around your head so tight you can see the pearly gates, and her pussy pulses against your mouth dragging you straight back down into hell. You keep licking, keep sucking, drawing out her orgasm as long as you can while she shakes and gasps.

"Stop, stop, too much—" She's trying to lift her hips but you won't let her go that easily. You give her clit one more slow lick and she shudders, a choked whimper escaping her throat.

Finally she manages to pull away, swinging her leg over your head. She collapses beside you on the bed, her face flushed.

You wipe your mouth with the back of your hand, your entire lower face is covered in her.

"You're evil," she pants, throwing an arm over her eyes.

"You literally tried to suffocate me like 2 minutes ago, babe."

"You meowed at me."

"Fair."

She turns to look at you, and even post orgasm with her makeup ruined and her hair fucked up beyond all recognition, she's unfairly beautiful. Then her eyes slowly travel down your body to the tent in your boxers.

"Mm," she says, breathlessly, "That looks uncomfortable ."

"Yeah, no shit."

Her hand reaches over, palming you through the fabric. You hiss at the contact. "Aw, poor baby. You want me to do something about that?"

"I think you know damn well what I'm going to say to that."

She smirks, energy already back. Her stamina is fucking insane. "I don't know, maybe I should just leave you like this. Payback for the meowing. And you look so cute all desperate and worked up for me."

"Tzuyu—"

"I'm kidding." She sits up, grabbing the hem of her sweater. "Besides, I need you to fuck me. Right fucking now."

She pulls the sweater over her head and chucks it somewhere behind her.

No bra.

Of course there's no bra.

Her tits are perfect, full and perky in a way that seems to defy the very laws of physics.

You're staring. You know you're staring. She knows you're staring.

"See something you like?" She shimmies a little, a cocky little smirk on her face.

You consciously pick your jaw up off the floor before responding. "You know I do."

She leans down, kissing you hard. She can absolutely taste herself on your tongue, but she doesn't seem to give a singular fuck, licking into your mouth like she's trying to scrape every last drop out. When she pulls back you're both breathing hard.

Her hands go to your boxers, yanking them down. Your cock springs free and she wraps her hand around it, stroking slowly.

"God, you're so hard." She squeezes and you groan. "All for me?"

"Who else would it be for? Your husband?"

She smacks your chest. "Don't talk about my husband while I'm holding your dick."

"You brought him up last week when—"

"That was different." She cuts you off with another stroke, thumb swiping over the head of your cock. She spreads the leaking precum around, using it as lube.

"How was that different?" You grunt.

"Because I was winning that argument."

"You're always winning arguments when you have your hand on my cock. It's basically cheating."

"Pretty smart strategy though, isn't it?" She strokes you again, slow and torturous. "Keeps you from saying stupid shit."

"No I'm pretty sure I can still say some stupid sh—" Your thoughts scatter when she squeezes again. "Fuck, Tzuyu."

"That's what I thought, baby."

She lets go of your cock and you have to choke back a frankly embarrassing whine, but then she's moving. Swinging her leg over your hips, straddling you again. Her bare pussy presses against your shaft, the heat making you throb.

"I," She grinds down, sliding her wet pussy along your length, "Am going to ride you until you can't remember your own fucking name. Sound good?"

"Sounds fucking perfect."

She lifts her hips, reaching down to line you up. The head of your cock presses against her entrance. She's so wet you could slide in with ease, but she takes her time, lowering herself inch by torturous inch.

She's so, so fucking tight. It doesn't matter how many times you fuck her, it always feels like the first. Her pussy grips your cock like it was made for it, lips clinging to it like it's trying to suck you inwards.

"Fuck," she breathes, sinking down until you're buried completely inside her. She sits there for a moment, hands braced on your chest. "You feel so good."

"This is great. You do all the work and I just get to enjoy."

"Not for long." She rolls her hips, grinding on your cock, and you both groan. "Just let me enjoy this for a second."

"Take your time. I've got an amazing view."

And you do. Her tits right in front of your face, abs flexing as she shifts, those thick thighs spread on either side of you. Your hands find those thighs, gripping the firm muscle.

"Obsessed," she teases.

"Yeah, like any warm-blooded male wouldn't be."

She lifts up slowly, almost, almost letting the head slip out, then slams back down. You both moan at the sensation.

"Fuck, Tzuyu—"

"What's wrong baby?" She lifts up again, slow as can be, then drops back down hard. The slap of skin echoes through the bedroom. "Can't handle me?"

"I can handle plenty. You're just—fuck—."

She does it again, rising up until just the tip of your cock is inside her, then slamming down. Her tits bounce with the impact and you can't help but stare, mesmerized.

"Just what?" She teases breathlessly.

"Being a fucking tease."

"Oh, baby," she leans down nipping at your ear, "you haven't seen half of it."

Then she really starts moving.

Her hips roll in a steady pattern, rising and falling on your cock. Every time she drops down, you can feel her pussy clench around you. The sounds filling the room are obscene. The slick noise of her pussy taking your cock over and over, her moans, your groans.

Your hands move from her thighs to her hips, gripping hard enough to bruise. You help guide her movements, pulling her down a little harder each time.

"Yes, yes just like that—" Her nails scratch into your chest. It stings like hell but you frankly don't give a shit. "Your cock feels so fucking good."

"You're so tight," you manage. Coherent thought is becoming difficult. "So fucking wet for me."

"Always—oh fuck—always wet for you."

She's riding you faster now, chasing her own pleasure. Sweat forms on her skin, a drop rolling down between her breasts. You want nothing more than to lick it off but she's moving too fast for you to reach.

The bed is creaking under you. Somewhere in the back of your mind you remember the girls are downstairs but you can't bring yourself to care. Not when Tzuyu looks like this, head thrown back, mouth open, riding your cock like her life depends on it.

"Touch me," she gasps. "Play with my tits."

You don't need to be told twice. Your hands leave her hips to cup her breasts, thumbs brushing over her nipples. She moans, loud and shameless.

"Harder."

You pinch her nipples and she clenches around your cock so tight you nearly cum right there.

"Fuck, do that again—"

You oblige, rolling the stiff peaks between your fingers. Her pussy floods with wetness, dripping down your cock to your balls warm and slick.

"I'm close," she whimpers. Her rhythm is getting sloppy, desperate. "So fucking close—"

"Yeah? You gonna cum on my cock?"

"Yes, yes, fuck yes—"

You thrust up to meet her, matching her pace, the angle making her cry out.

"Right there, oh god right there—"

You do it again, driving up into her. Her whole body shudders.

"Don't stop, please don't fucking stop—"

Like you could stop now even if you wanted to. You're getting close too, that familiar feeling building at the base of your spine. But you want her to cum first. Want to feel her pussy spasm and clench around you.

You sit up suddenly, wrapping an arm around her waist to keep her steady. The position change makes her gasp. You can get deeper like this, and it finally allows you to capture one of those perfect nipples in your mouth.

"Oh fuck—" Her hands tangle in your hair, holding you against her chest. "Fuck, fuck, I'm gonna—"

You suck hard on her nipple and thrust up at the same time.

She cums with a scream, her pussy clamping down on your cock. You can feel her pulsing, gushing wetness soaking you both.

You slow your movements, letting her ride it out. Her forehead drops to your shoulder.

"Holy shit," she pants against your neck.

You're still rock hard inside her. Throbbing.

She notices with visible interest, clenching around you once to hear you grunt.

"Your turn," she breathes, pulling back to look at you with heavy lidded eyes.

You flip her.

One moment she's on top of you, the next she's on her back with you between her legs. She lets out a surprised laugh.

"Someone's eager."

"You got to cum. My turn."

You hook her legs over your shoulders, pushing them back toward her chest. The position makes her gasp, spreads her wide open for you. Those thighs press against your face and shoulders, warm and soft and absolutely perfect.

"Fuck, I love these thighs," you mutter, turning your head to kiss the inside of one.

"I'm aware." She's still breathless. "You never shut up about them."

"Can you blame me?"

You don't wait for an answer. You thrust into her, burying yourself deep. She's so wet from her orgasm that you slide in easily, and the sound she makes goes directly to your cock.

"Oh fuck—"

You set a hard pace immediately. Fucking her into the mattress while her thighs frame your head like a goddamn work of art.

"Yes, yes, harder—" Her hands grip the sheets. "Fuck me harder—"

You oblige. Each thrust makes her tits bounce, makes the bed creak louder. She's so tight around you it's almost painful, her pussy still sensitive from cumming.

"You feel so fucking good," you grunt, squeezing her thighs. Your fingers dig into the soft flesh.

"Don't stop, don't you dare fucking stop—"

You can feel your orgasm building. That pressure at the base of your spine getting harder and harder to push off. You're close. Too close.

You slow down.

"What—no, why are you—" Tzuyu looks up at you with desperation in her eyes.

"Just pacing myself." You roll your hips slowly, grinding deep instead of thrusting.

"I was getting close again," she whines.

"I know."

"You're such an asshole."

"You love it."

She does. You can tell by the way she's clenching around you, by that pout on her lips.

You pick up the pace again, just enough to make her moan. Your hands slide along her thighs, feeling the muscle flex as she tries to pull you deeper.

"Please," she gasps. "I need—fuck—I need you to fuck me properly."

"This isn't proper?"

"You know what I mean—"

You thrust hard, once, and she nearly sobs.

"Like that?"

"Yes! Just like that, please—"

You do it again. Then stop. Her pussy clenches around you in frustration.

"I hate you," she pants.

"No you don't."

"I'm going to kill you."

"With these thighs, I hope." You kiss her inner thigh again, scraping your teeth against the skin. She shudders.

"You're obsessed."

"Yep."

You start moving again, finding a rhythm that's just enough to keep you both on edge. Not enough to push either of you over. Her legs are shaking around your head, her pussy dripping down onto the sheets.

"Please," Tzuyu begs. The sound of her begging does something to you. "Please, I'm so close—"

"Not yet."

"I'm going to fucking—"

You thrust deep and grind against her, cutting off whatever threat she was about to make. She just moans instead, nails scratching desperately at your arms.

You're playing with fire. You know if you keep this up much longer you won't be able to hold back.

"I need to cum," you grunt. "Fuck, Tzuyu, I need to cum."

"Then cum." She pulls you down, her legs unwrapping from your shoulders to lock around your waist instead. "Cum inside me. Fill me up."

You drop down, bracing yourself on your forearms on either side of her head. You slide deeper.

"I'm close too," she whimpers. "So fucking close."

You kiss her hard. Your hips move on autopilot now, chasing the release you've been craving. The wet slap of your bodies fills the room, mixing with her moans and your grunts.

"Together," she gasps against your mouth. "Cum with me, please—"

Her pussy tightens around you. You can feel her getting close, that little flutter.

"Fuck, Tzuyu—"

"I'm gonna—oh god I'm gonna—"

It hits you both at the same time. You groan as your cock pulses inside her, pumping her full of cum, and you can feel her pussy clenching and spasming around you, milking every drop.

And because you're apparently an idiot with approximately zero self preservation—

"Meow," you moan into her ear.

For a second she's too lost in her orgasm to process it. Her body is still shaking, pussy still pulsing around your cock. You're both riding out the aftershocks, your cum leaking out around your cock because there's just too much.

Then she goes very, very still.

You're still buried inside her. Still trying to catch your breath. Your brain is fuzzy from the orgasm, a dopey smile plastered on your face.

Tzuyu's hands grip your shoulders. Tight.

She slowly, deliberately, pushes you off of her. You slip out with a wet sound, cum immediately spilling out of her onto the sheets. She sits up, and the look on her face makes your survival instincts finally kick in.

"Did you—" Her voice is dangerously quiet. "Did you just fucking meow while you were cumming inside me?"

Oh you're in trouble.

"I—"

"Did you?"

Your brain scrambles for something, anything that might save you.

"...meow?" you offer weakly.

Her eye twitches.

"You're dead."

"Wait—"

Too late. She's on you in a second, tackling you back onto the bed. Those deadly thighs wrap around your head again and this time there's no mercy. She's actually trying to kill you.

"You think you're funny?" She squeezes. Hard. "You think that's fucking funny?"

You try to answer but your face is pressed directly against her cum-filled pussy, your own load dripping onto your face. You're suffocating in the mess you made and honestly? You can't even complain.

"Meowing." Squeeze. "While cumming." Squeeze. "Inside me."

Your hands tap frantically against her thighs but she ignores it.

"What do you have to say for yourself?"

She loosens just enough for you to gasp out, "Worth it?"

That is, apparently, the wrong answer.

The thighs clamp back down with a vengeance. You're genuinely seeing the light now. Your vision is going dark at the edges.

But god, what a way to go.

Just when you think you might actually pass out, she releases you. You gasp for air, coughing.

Tzuyu looks down at you with a satisfied smirk. Your face is covered in cum, hers and yours mixed together. You probably look absolutely destroyed.

"You're lucky you're cute," she says.

"Does this mean I'm forgiven?"

"Absolutely not." She climbs off you, stretching. "But I'll let you live. For now."

"Shame. Death by thighs is actually a bucket list item of mine."

"Can you go 20 fucking seconds without saying something stupid or mentioning my thighs?"

"…no."

~~~

Hi all! If you haven't already heard, most of the writers on this platform have switched to FanProse. I'm a lot more active on there for sure! But, to be fair, I also took a bit of a break from writing to deal with some life shit. I'm trying to ease back into this, but I have two commissions and a new series to work on, so hopefully it won't be another two months this time!!

Thank you all for reading :)

"You pick a door," she says, holding up one finger like she's making a serious mathematical point and not actively committing a war crime against logic. "And then Monty—whoever the fuck he is—opens another door. And now there’s two left. So, you know. Fifty-fifty. You either win the prize or you don’t win shit."

“You’re a fucking idiot.”

And she still doesn’t care. If anything, she revels in your frustration, grinning and taking a lazy sip from her beer.

“I thought you liked your girls a little stupid,” she muses. You like Chaewon. Always have; since before her rejection and until now.

She might be onto something.

“That’s what I saw earlier at the club, anyway,” she mumbles, and it’s pointed, a sharp dagger concealed by a hushed voice.

You pay it no mind. It’s just Chaewon being Chaewon. Doing everything in her power to annoy the fuck out of you. You shake your head. “I like my girls with a basic understanding of probability.”

She hums, her gaze dragging over you, and it lingers. Long. Too long. So long it’s causing the alcohol induced haze to retreat from your brain. Then she just smiles again, takes another sip, and the buzz is back.

Chaewon stretches, arms flexed into a peak above her head, sliding against the backrest of the couch, her head landing against the armrest of the couch opposite of where you're sitting. Her legs stretch out off of the floor, her dress riding up, clinging to and stretching on her hips.

It’s a performance, designed to squeeze out resistance from any sap that would dare defy her. It’s impossible to tell if this is just Chaewon’s purest form, her instincts kicking in to naturally make any man submit, or if it’s a carefully crafted weapon, deliberately utilised and aimed with immaculate precision. Either way, it’s fucking lethal.

Lace-trimmed thigh-high covered feet land in your lap, crossed. You glance down at them. Stifle a thought of fucking the exposed part of skin right below her dress and above her socks. Breathe out through your nose, annoyed.

She sees. She was waiting for you to see, to be more exact.

“What?” she asks, but she knows the answer. Feigning innocence, but the chances of it convincing you are slim. “Is the view not to your liking?”

You flick your eyes up to meet hers. Flat. Unamused. Stern. “Jesus, Chaewon.”

She cocks a half smile, hands up in the air like she’s being put under arrest but confident she can flirt her way out of it. “Relax. It’s just a joke.‘

Right. Just a joke. One she’s been playing at for far too long now. One you’re absolutely not in the mood for tonight. One that is quintessentially Chaewon. Mean. Sloppy. Reckless.

That’s what alcohol does to her. She gets all handsy and touchy and feely, disregarding any feelings or reservations you’d have about being touched meaninglessly by the girl that didn’t want you.

And the joke is not exclusive to you either. You’ve seen her like this before, with other guys. Hands on their shoulders and theirs on her hips, leaning in too close, laughing too loud. It’s just her usual mess. It doesn’t mean anything.

She’s warm, just warm enough that you can feel her through your clothes. But warm enough to make you fear the sparks could ignite something that shouldn’t be. Before you can have any more prohibited thoughts, you shift, trying to nudge her legs off of you.

She doesn’t budge. Deliberately. Straight up refuses to even acknowledge the attempt.

You sigh. “Get your legs off of me.”

Chaewon blinks at you, lashes fluttering faster than your heart can beat, her lips pouting— a poor substitute for saying she can’t believe you’d say that to someone this cute. She chuckles, transforms it into a smirk, and tilts her head.

“Make me.”

She presses the arch of her foot against your crotch. It’s right on target. Light. Testing. Provocating.

It’s impossible not to react. You could sit here, not do anything, let her rub your hardening cock through your pants a bit, enjoy the feeling of her getting you worked up. But that’s not what this is about. You know this pattern. As soon as you acknowledge it, it stops, and even if it didn’t, it would all be meaningless.

So you react. You grab her ankle, and shove her legs off of you.

She lets out a soft “oh,” before laughing, low and amused. She works herself back up right, shifting her legs underneath her, but she doesn’t look the slightest bit deterred.

“Wow,” she mocks. “Sensitive.”

You roll your eyes, reaching for your drink. It’s water. Unlike Chaewon, you know when to quit, much to her annoyance. “Stop being weird and focus.”

“I am focused!” she retorts, all tension and energy. “Are you focused?” she says finally, slow, saccharine, like honey that's taking its sweet time to drip from a spoon into your mouth. “Not too distracted by how fuckable I look in this dress?”

You don’t acknowledge it. Again, no point. You set your glass down with a deliberate clink— any noise to replace what she just asked—then reach for three random objects on the coffee table; her phone, a book, and a coaster.

“We’re settling this tonight.”

She puts her beer back on the table, folds her hands in her lap, and sits with her whole body pointed at you. She shakes her body loose with slight movements. Then, slowly, she smiles.

“Please,” she says, voice sultry and teasing. “Teach me a lesson, professor.”

You’ve probably explained the theory to Chaewon more times than there are episodes of the show that inspired the discussion. It’s time for a practical run-through. You grab the three nearest things you can find and leave standing upright to function as make-shift doors—your phone, your glass of water, and a book Chaewon has been quipping from for the past month, How to Date Men When You Hate Men—and you form a neat row of three. “Let’s drill it into your skull. Three doors. One has a prize. Pick one.”

And for all the effort you put in, she barely looks. Eyes on you, finger pointing in a different direction. “The book.”

“Right, and that was a random choice out of three, meaning—”

“That I was either right or I was wrong. Fifty-fifty.” She shrugs, and shuts the door on this method of having her understand.

She’s perfectly frustrating. “it’s not fifty-fifty—”

She shifts the opposite way from her previous slide, her head landing in your lap. Her cheek rests against your thigh, and her provocation pokes at your heart. She gazes up at you, lashes fluttering a hypnotic rhythm. “This is more comfortable. Keep going.”

How could you?

“Chaewon.”

She hums, but she doesn’t acknowledge your protest. “What? Does having a cute girl’s face this close to your dick make you nervous?”

Ignore it. If you acknowledge it, it only gets worse. You push it down, she’ll eventually grow bored, and as long as the boulder doesn’t slip from your hands, you’ll be done with this forever. “Okay, so now, Monty—”

“You’re looking a little serious,” she muses, herself looking anything but. “Would you look like that while getting head? All furrowed brows, all focused?” Her lips curve deviously like the curveballs she’s throwing you. “Or would you be more relaxed? I can go deep, you know. No need to worry about me.”

Every cell in your body is telling you to push back, take her up on what she’s offering, and let her ruin this night. But you know. You’d get your hopes up, but she’d just call it a silly joke. Keep ignoring it. She’ll get bored.

You take a slow breath. Slow down your rhythm. “Are you done? Monty opens a door that isn’t the prize. That leaves two doors with potential. Your first pick was only right one-third of the time, so if you switch—”

“Aaaah.” Her mouth opens, tongue peeking out like a landing strip, eyes fluttering shut like she’s waiting for you to shove your cock inside.

That’s it.

You shove her off, not rough, but firm, standing up from the couch you might have sunk in immediately. “Can you cut it the fuck out?”

She’s back upright, giggling, back landing against the couch, legs curled beneath her. “What’s wrong? Blood rushing away from your head?”

“Do you ever stop?”

Her arms stretch over her head again, and you’re starting to see a pattern with the way her dress is stretching against her hips. “Not when I’m having fun.”

It’s maddening. Talking with Chaewon is selecting a door, continuing to talk with her is being shown the wrong door and choosing to take it willingly. “You really don’t care how frustrating you make the Monty Hall problem, do you?”

She smirks. She must think she has it all figured out. “I already told you. Either something happens, or it doesn’t. Fifty-fifty, dude.”

“That’s really not how probability works.”

“That’s how life works.”

You shake your head, and accompany it with an equally disappointed sigh. “You just don’t want to admit when you’ve made the wrong choice.”

She stills, and it’s eerie. It shouldn’t have happened. Then, like a mask slipping back, she recovers with a sly grin. “Or maybe I just like my way better.”

Before you can argue, she makes her move, getting up, pressing against your arm, chest squishy, warm and deliberate against you. “But you can explain it to me as many times as you want.”

She’s impossible. “Chaewon—”

And she leaves no room for response. “Go on,” she purrs, pushing her tits smush against your bicep, molding around the way your muscles tense. “Teach me.”

Your patience and her dress have one thing in common. They’re both razor-thin. “I mean it.”

She hums, and she smiles, and she’s convinced you’re going to give in any second now. “Not a fan anymore of me touching you?” Her voice drops, all warmth and provocation. “Would you rather reverse the roles, have you touch me? Be careful. I’m sensitive.”

Your fingers wrap around her wrist, pulling it high with a firm and stern motion. “Cut it out.”

She clicks her tongue, and scowls in return. The joke is over, and you ruined her fun. “You liked it plenty when that slut at the club was all over you.”

“That’s different,” you say, your jaw tightening up. She knows it is, and it’s not fair. Does she think she can get away with it just because you’ve got a thing for her? Or, used to have, you try to convince yourself.

She’s so clearly unimpressed it’s almost hurtful. It wasn’t a lie though. It was different, that girl at the club never tore your heart out. But none of that matters when Chaewon wants to have her fun. She scoffs. “Must’ve been nice. You didn’t even flinch when she touched you. Just leaned into her, didn’t push her away like you do with me.”

You don’t answer. You let go of her wrist, sit back down, unsure what to make if anything yourself. You could have gone home with ‘that slut’. Had a great evening. Instead, you’re here, keeping your promise to Chaewon that you’d make sure she got home safe, wasting another night on a girl that should have long been in your past already.

That same girl plants both her knees next to yours on the couch, dress creeping above her hips, exposing the slightest hint of black and lace panties straddling your lap, settling against you.

You hate how right she feels here.

She rocks her hips down, just slightly, just testing the waters. And like an experienced professional, the joke’s back on. “You sure you don’t want to have a little fun?”

Your hands clamp around her waist—not pulling her closer. Pushing her off.

She doesn’t move. Doesn’t resist. Just concedes as the distance grows.

“Come on,” she murmurs, trying to make sense of it all. “You used to love looking at me.”

Your arm extends fully, pushing her as far as your body allows. “That was a long time ago.”

She lets out a small scoff, more hurt than the lost one, finally relenting and shifting off your lap. The joke is no longer fun for anyone in this room.

You just have to bite the bullet. Separate her from yourself, let the alcohol fade from her system and figure out what to do after that. “Go to bed,” you exhale sharply, a forced sense of finality in your voice. “I’ll sleep here, and be gone before you wake up.”

Chaewon stares at you like you just suggested the unthinkable. Her eye twitches, a habit you’ve long learned to associate with her being so upset that something is going to break. Then, she exhales sharper than you did, standing up. “Fine. Whatever.”

She turns, stomping toward her bedroom, her pumps exploding with sound every step of the way. “It’s still fucking fifty-fifty, by the way!” she yells, right before she slams the door.

It’s suddenly silent. Silent enough to hear your heartbeat going crazy.

She’ll calm down soon enough. Hopefully.

The heat of her body still burns against you, scorching where she was pressed against you. But if you ran after her now, you’d get burned alive. You rub your hands down your face, sinking into the couch, staring into the ceiling as you mentally prepare for what’s bound to be a sleepless night. There’s no escaping those as long as Chaewon is a part of your life. ----------------------------------------

Sleep doesn’t come.

You want to blame it on the horrible way this couch is digging into your back. Or the sounds of the city being ever present. Or the dim glow of some street lights seeping into the living room through Chaewon’s curtains that never managed to fully close. But comfort isn’t the issue.

It’s your damn mind, that can’t shut the fuck up.

Too many thoughts, all tangled together like a string of memories that wrapped around itself far too many times. Her hands, her voice, her weight in your lap. Her unusually prickly temper, and her enhanced sloppiness.

It all feels too fucking familiar, and the moment you admit that, there’s no holding it back.

It started as a night much like this one. You and Chaewon, at her place, sitting too close for friends but too far apart for lovers. Laughing at everything and nothing. Drinking just enough to make the lines blur. You had thought—maybe. Hopefully.

And for a moment, you know, you had been right. It seemed like the kind of night you’d eventually be able to tell your kids about. An edited version, to cut out the once-in-a-lifetime pounding you intended to give her, but still, magical in its own way.

The way she let you kiss her. The way she kissed you back. The way her eyelashes fluttered to pull you into the kiss. How her left thigh rode up yours. The way her fingers locked behind the nape of your neck. The way you told her you liked her.

Then the way she pulled back. The hesitation in her eyes. The way her voice broke when she said “I don’t think we should do this.”

The way a crack formed on your heart, barely being pushed together by the rest of your more logical organs as you forced yourself to nod and agree, to act like it was fine. Like you were fine. Like you hadn’t just managed to secure the right door, only to be forced to step into the wrong one.

And the way your heart formed a second crack when you saw her again. She was still the same. Still Chaewon. Like nothing had happened.

But something did happen to you.

Your phone buzzes.

It’s not easy to ignore. Chaewon is an addiction to you, the next hit of this sweet obsession entering your veins as your screen lights up.

Chaewon: You awake??

You know you should just be failing at sleeping again. This can only lead to misery.

You: Yeah.

It’s quiet for a bit, but a new message makes its way to you all the same.

Chaewon: Cant sleep

If only she knew how she cursed you with the same fate. If not for her you’d be sound asleep in your own bed right now, or even better, in the bed of that chick you met at the club. What did she say her name was again? Kazuha? Instead, you’re here, repeating old patterns with exhausted probability.

You: That sucks.

Your answers are curt. Too perfect with punctuation for your usual back and forth. She doesn’t respond right away. She might be stubborn and annoying about things she’s convinced she’s right about, but she’s never been oblivious.

Then:

Chaewon: Are we okay?

You’re upset, but not heartless. It tugs.

You: We’re fine, Chaewon

Chaewon: Thats not a yes…

You might just scream out of frustration, your phone dropping on your chest, but obviously you can’t. She’d hear. She’s impossible. So fucking stupidly impossible. And yet, you find yourself typing anyway.

You: Do you want me to lie?

The pause is longer this time. Should you feel bad or just so tired that it doesn’t matter anymore?

Chaewon: No

Chaewon: Idk

Chaewon: I just get nervous when ur like this

You: Like what??

Chaewon: Distant

Chaewon: Careful

Chaewon: Upset with me

Your fingers hover over the keyboard without action. She’s not wrong. You are being careful. It’s her fault. She’d break your heart a second time in less time it took for it to beat. That’s dangerous.

You: Idk what you want me to say Chaewon

Chaewon: Idk either…

Chaewon: But I miss how we used to talk

The memories flood in of the two of you just shooting the shit, countless evenings. Still…

You: We’re talking now.

Chaewon: U know thats not what i meant

And she’s right. You do know, but this is just easier. For you, for her. For the both of you.

Chaewon: Cant you just come over here and talk w me?

Chaewon: I miss you…

And before you can even overthink it—

You move. ----------------------------------------

There is a thought that creeps into your mind as the door creaks open and you step into her room. Something about a lion’s den, and then another one following it up about it actually being the lionesses that do the hunting. There’s no point to it. They all fade in an instant. She’s no huntress right now. She’s vulnerable, like prey, enticing you to be the hunter, looking so ready to be pounced on; curled up beneath her blankets, only the soft shape of her against the sheets to lure you in.

“Hey.” It’s a solid way to start a conversation, but you can’t help but expect more from her after calling you in.

You nod, eyes fleeing from hers, shifting awkwardly by the door. “Hey.”

It takes a while before you move. The same goes for her. She’s squinting, her eyes getting used to the darkness. She’s always been stubborn about letting you help her get a blue light filter on her phone.

She finally stops, and for a moment, your eyes meet hers. She carries a soft smile, the kind that made you fall for her in the first place. But there’s a difference in it; barely perceptible; most definitely flown under the radar by people not so obsessed with her face. There’s precaution sewn into it. The sides of her smile are constantly shifting and trembling, like she doesn’t know whether to keep it there or to switch to a more neutral expression. Then, she shifts, her left arm pulling out from under the cover and tapping the sheets next to her, an unspoken invitation.

You sit down with a sigh, back turned towards her. You’re not far, but you’re not close either. A safe distance, you think to yourself. The mood isn’t tense, but also not comfortable. Just… unsure.

You can hear her laps part, exhale, almost say something, and then close again a couple of times. It’s not until you finally turn to face her that she speaks.

“Do you remember that summer at the beach?”

Your eyebrows raise on instinct, disbelief unmistakably painted across your face, impossible not to notice, not even in this darkness. “How could I forget?”

The muscles on her face relax as her eyes drift away from your eyes, seemingly getting lost into her pillow, which she clutches tight. “You remember how you were so worried about me you gave me a piggyback ride back to the house?”

“No,” you scoff, “I remember you guilt tripping me into carrying your soaking wet ass across the sand.” Your face turns away from her again, hands clutching the side of the bed as your eyes veer off into the distance past the window; letting the glass serve as a canvas to project your memories onto.

You hear the sheets rustle behind you as she works herself upright, before reminding you exactly why you helped her back then in the first place. “You weren’t complaining back then! You were way too busy copping a feel of my ass.”

“Okay, now that’s not fair,” you snap back much too fast, much too flustered. “I wasn’t copping a feel, I was keeping you from falling. And besides, you weren’t helping either! Just hanging there all limp, mumbling you’d never be able to walk again.”

“I mean, it just hurt so bad. That jellyfish really fucked me up,” she chuckles back, and you can feel the pressure of her back leaning against yours.

There’s a soft silence, the one drenched in feelings you’d much rather stay in, instead of moving on to an uncomfortable reality. So you keep painting, hoping the window holds your memory-scape just a little longer.

“Do you remember what we kept talking about? To keep your mind off of the pain?”

You can tell she knows in the way she responds with an “Oh my god.”

Both of you say it at the same time.

“The fucking Monty Hall problem!”

There’s a beat of silence. First it’s a chuckle. It turns into laughter, and it quickly grows uncontrolled, unstoppable. The kind that makes the memories seem brighter, makes your body feel lighter, the kind that makes you throw your head back as she does hers. You both open your eyes staring at the roof, now sharing the same canvas to display footage of past days.

“God,” you breathe, your head locked in place but your eyes drifting over towards her face. “I miss those days.”

She giggles, nose scrunching. “I don’t miss what that jellyfish did to me.”

The laughter fades, and you think that maybe, just maybe you could forget about earlier and go to bed without feeling like shit. You shift, and she does too, turning towards her as she moves back to her original spot, leaning against the headrest, crawling underneath the blankets with her legs.

Your breath catches as you look at her. Your stomach turns. “Chaewon.”

She blinks, glancing up at you. “Hmm?”

“Did you—” You inhale sharply, but you can’t afford to give her the benefit of the doubt. “Did you seriously invite me in here just to talk un-dressed like that?”

Her brows furrow. Then she follows your gaze, shifting slightly, and—

Fuck.

Black lace, delicate, thin. Your favorite.

She freezes. "Oh."

Oh? Fucking oh?

“Why the fuck are you like this?” you explode.

Her eyes widen. "No! I—" She scrambles, tugging the blanket back up over herself. “I wasn’t—”

“You said you wanted to talk, Chaewon.”

“I do!” Her voice pitches up. She’s pulling the sheets up hurriedly, using them as a shield from you, all you can see is her cheeks changing color ever so slightly. This time because of the embarrassment instead of the alcohol. “I promise… I do…”

It’s hard to believe that. It’s all so familiar, and all so fucking frustrating. “You know, this is just like you to do,” you ramble, and it’s hard to stop once you get going. “Always so fucking obsessed with getting a reaction out of me, never stopping to think for a second about how I feel!”

Her face softens, and the way she looks at you makes you sick. Like she thinks you’re right. “That’s not—”

“Isn’t it?”

“I swear!” She shouts, looking panicked and it’s enough to finally get you to shut up. “I was still out of it all, too mad and too drunk when I got back here. I just wanted to sleep. I didn’t—” and a big, shallow breath interrupts her, the kind that just appears and leaves you with less air than before. “I wasn’t thinking, okay?”

You want to believe her. But tonight has been too much. Too many provocations, too many lines blurring that she would turn back from, and in turn, you would let form scars.

Then you sigh, sitting back down. “Okay.”

“Are you…” her voice trembles as she tries to figure out the specifics of your answer. “You’re shaking. Are you mad?”

Your mind is still trying to slow down, and answering gets forgotten. She takes that as an answer, obviously. “I’m sorry.”

“I’m not so mad that I’d be shaking, you idiot.” Your voice is quiet. “It’s just way too fucking cold in here. And I was thinking.”

There’s no hesitation, because that’s just how Chaewon is as she shifts, making room. “Get under the covers.”

“Chaewon, please—” you start, but she’s not having it.

“I won’t try anything, okay? I promise,” she interrupts you, sounding calmer already. There’s a touch of pleading in it, but not the whiny kind she uses to get you worked up. It’s more desperate, more real. “Just give me a chance to prove I’m being serious.”

You don’t move at first. Stubbornness is inherent to both of you, after all. She tugs on the sheets impatiently. You sigh, but it’s obviously performative, a last jab at her to let her know you’re only doing this just because you’re cold. And she wasn’t lying. She properly keeps her distance, just sharing the warmth of the bed. It’s immediate and comforting, but you don’t allow yourself to sink into it.

“See?” she murmurs. “Not a trap.”

Not yet. You don’t dare say it, but you don’t have to. She sees the thoughts in your eyes. So she shuffles, turning away from you.

The silence stretches so long you start focusing on the noises it can’t beat into submission. Your breathing. Her breathing. The creaking and crumpling sound of the bed and the sheets as you move.

“I wanted to talk, and we talked so… that’s—that’s good. I guess,” she whispers. “I mean, I wouldn’t mind talking some more.” She lets a little space in between for you to insert yourself into. You never do. “But if you’d rather pretend like I’m not here, I get that too. I’ll shut up.”

It’s endearing, and your response is a little mean, letting her wait in silence for just a little longer before replying.

“I’m not pretending. I need somebody to blame the lack of space I have in this bed.”

She smiles, soft. You can’t see it, obviously, but you feel it. Somehow. She shifts under the blanket, closer but not touching. She’s apprehensive. And she meant what she said.

“Is this the first time we’ve slept in the same bed?” she asks, but she masks her tone enough that she could play it off as talking to herself if you decided to not respond.

“Nope,” you correct her. “There was that one time in sophomore year. You showed up at my door at, like, three in the morning. Absolutely shitfaced, mind you.”

She lets out a small, embarrassed groan, and you know you’re on the right track.

“I remember that,” she mumbles. “Barely.”

“You couldn’t figure out how to get to your dorm. Said not even Monty Hall could help you find the right door.”

“How do you remember all that?” Chaewon questions, like you had no right to have that memory.

“Are you kidding me? How could I forget? I told you to take my bed, and that I was gonna crash on the couch,” you continue explaining, your lips curling upwards.

“But I didn’t let you?”

“Nope. You didn’t trust my roommate worth shit. Which, fair.”

She doesn’t say anything. You keep going though, less for her alone or you alone, both for you both.

“You grabbed my wrist when I tried to walk away. Looked me dead in the eye and said, and I quote, ‘Don’t leave me alone with that guy here, he smells like crusty socks and assault.’”

Chaewon lets out a strangled sound that’s half mortified laugh, half groan. “Oh my God.”

“So I gave in. Got in bed next to you. Fully clothed. On top of the covers. Like a gentleman.”

“You didn’t sleep for a second that night, did you?”

“Of course not. You starfished. One arm across my chest, one leg thrown over me like a fucking seatbelt. You had me trapped, dead to rights. Didn’t help you made me paranoid that my roommate was actually going to do something.”

She laughs—really laughs. Warm, unguarded. Then she rolls onto her side, facing you again. Her eyes search yours. "It was easier, wasn’t it? Back then. In college. At the beach. You carrying me like an idiot, me acting like I couldn’t walk, and you trying to turn probability into a personality trait."

You laugh, but it’s not really a laugh. More like one of those nose breaths that accompanies an abbreviated text. “Because it was.”

Her smile fades. “You never needed me to ask. You always just… stayed.”

You shift slightly, your fingers brushing the edge of the blanket. Her eyes drop there, then rise again.

“I think I’m a leaver,” she says. No warning. No lead-in. Like she had to say it fast before she lost the nerve.

“What?” It leaves your mouth before you can even blink.

But Chaewon swallows, her eyes retreating downwards. “I think that’s just who I am. Some people stay, and some people leave. You’re the kind of person that stays, and I’m a person that leaves. Because if I go first, I don’t have to wait until you become a leaver just like me.”

She looks at you like she’s afraid you’ll flinch. Like she’s already bracing for the recoil.

“I know it’s selfish,” she adds quickly. “But that night… when you kissed me, and then said you really liked me—I panicked. I did what I always do. You were giving me a choice, and that scared the hell out of me. So I picked the choice I always make.”

She breathes in. Exhales slow. Really takes her time, her eyes drifting slightly upwards now.

“And for a while, I told myself it was just another fifty-fifty. You know? Just a game of chance I lost. You either leave or get left. You either lose something or end up lost. And I thought—" she breaks off, swallowing again, part of her voice getting swallowed with it, "—that it would go away like the rest. That I’d forget. That it’d stop mattering."

You stay quiet.

“But it didn’t. It stuck. You stuck.”

She shifts again, knee brushing against yours beneath the blanket. Her voice cracks a little.

“And I started noticing things,” she says. "Little things. Like the first time you didn’t wait for me to text goodnight. Or when you were with someone else and you had that smile that I thought was reserved for me. Or when you stopped arguing with me about dumb shit just to keep talking."

Her voice wavers.

“And then I realized I didn’t just pick wrong. I watched the right door shut. And then I heard it lock. And that’s why I know your stupid fucking Monty Hall problem is wrong. I should’ve had another shot. Another choice. But life didn’t open a wrong door—it just took the right one away. And that’s why I know it’s just fifty-fifty. And I lost my coin toss at happiness.”

There’s a second of silence where your brain short circuits.

“You’re a fucking idiot,” you mutter.

She blinks, but it helps her to finally look at you. “Ouch?”

You sit up, tossing the blanket off like it offended you. “No, I’m serious. You think my door shut? You fucking locked it.”

She opens her mouth, but you cut her off, your pace quickening. “The fact that I stayed around all this time is proof enough that my door is still unlocked. It wasn’t up to me to reopen that door.”

“I—”

“But you had to try.”

Chaewon’s eyes flicker—not away, but deeper. Her breath hitches, and you swear it’s the first real sound she’s made in a while that didn’t have a smirk behind it. She shifts forward just slightly, only enough that her leg brushes against yours again, like she’s testing if the signal’s still green.

“You’re saying… it’s still open?”

You drag a hand through your hair, eyes rolling ceilingward before locking onto her again. “It was never fucking closed.”

Her lips part. They’re trembling now. She’s not teasing this time. “Then why—why didn’t you ever—”

“Because I’m not gonna beg,” you cut in, sharper than intended. “I’m not gonna crawl through the fucking keyhole when you slammed the door in my face.”

She flinches. Just barely. But enough.

“I didn’t need you to beg, just…” she says, softer, like she’s going over the math again in her head. “I don’t know… I—” Her voice dips, trails, then steadies. “I’m here now. I’m trying.”

You look at her. Clear as day in the middle of the night. She's curled up next to you, defensive and ashamed and stubborn all at once. Her eyes are too glossy, her hands fidgeting with the edge of the comforter like they’re looking for somewhere to hide.

And then she breathes, and her voice breaks.

“I just wanted you to want me still.”

And that? That fucking cracks something open.

You reach for her—no grand gestures, no cinematic swoop—just firm, necessary motion. You cradle her jaw, fingers sweeping her hair back, and when you speak, it’s low and final and absolutely everything you’ve been holding back.

“I never fucking stopped.”

There’s no pause this time.

No “but what if—”

No “are you sure—”

No more fucking Monty Hall.

Just her lips crashing into yours, messily, hungrily, like the apology she couldn’t say and the forgiveness you weren’t ready to offer have decided to cancel each other out with tongue.

It’s not careful. It’s not gentle.

It’s honest.

She’s on your lap again, only this time it’s not a joke. Her knees bracket your thighs and she grinds down with purpose, gasping when she feels you through your boxers. Her hands slide beneath your shirt, nails catching skin, and you curse under your breath as heat swells in your gut, undeniable and urgent.

You break the kiss, forehead against hers. “Still cold?”

Her laugh is shallow, much too distracted with making sure she can properly share in your body heat. “Yeah. Make me warm.”

“And here I was thinking you were hot enough as is.”

She smirks, and it’s real this time. Like the one you saw when you barely knew her, but knew enough already. Not a mask. Not a trap. Just her.

And she whispers, “Don’t stop this time.”

Like you could. Besides, you’re not even sure it’s only meant for you. With the way she’s tugging and removing your clothes, kissing your shoulders and pulling you tighter, it’s like she’s making up for lost time. For every second spent being careful. Your hands trace her body, taking your time to really make sure every curve and beauty mark is stuck in your mind forever.

“God,” you mumble under your breath, pressing your lips to her cheek, her neck, her shoulder, working your way down until you’re kissing the edge of a black lace bra that was almost the reason you stormed off earlier. “I can’t believe how beautiful you really are.”

Her breath hitches. “I know.”

And you’ve missed that, too. Her confidence. The way she can say things like that without irony, because she knows exactly what she’s worth—she just never thought she’d be worth it to you once more.

You kiss her through the black lace, and she shivers when you nip at the edge of her bra, as close to her nipple as you can get. She doesn’t waste any time herself flicking open the button of your jeans. You’ve always thought she needed a helping hand, both of yours pushing your pants further down. They’re not even off properly when she pauses, eyes blown wide, honing in on the tent in your boxers leaving little to imagination.

“Wow,” she says, and it’s almost weird to hear her say it without sarcasm.

“Wow?” your voice is rough, coming out in a single breath.

She nods, and her lips part as she yanks your boxers down, eyes almost dazed as she takes you in. “Wow.”

It’s a reverent look. It’s a look that suits her as long as it’s directed towards you, you think. Her fingers reach out like she’s about to wrap them around you, but she stops right before she makes contact, and the look in her eyes changes. Smug now. Knowing.

“I need a moment,” she says, and you know she’s up to no good. “You can’t just swing that in a girl's face and expect me to make it easy for you.”

A throb shoots through your cock, hips twitching without your consent. “Don’t you fucking dare.”

But she just smirks.

“Chaewon.”

“Shhh,” she says as she shuts down any and all protest, and her voice is the perfect combination of exasperating and enticing. “I’ve got my own Monty Hall problem lined up for you.”

You groan, but it’s more of a plea for mercy than a protest. “You can’t be serious.”

“Oh, I’m serious,” she purrs, fingers grazing the base of your cock before pulling back again, making you hiss.

“Three doors,” she says, and the way she looks at you is obscene. “My front door, my back door, and my... ehm... mouth door?”

You’re gone. You’re fucking gone. “You are so lucky you're fucking hot.”

She keeps going, relentless. Her grin is pure mischief. “Which one have I imagined you fucking me with the most?” She rolls her hips, testing you. “Pick right, and you get to fuck it.”

“And if I guess wrong?” Your voice is rough, needy, everything you never let her hear before tonight.

Her eyes burn. “Then you eat me out first.”

It’s a rigged game and you both know it, but you play along anyway, letting her set the rules and stack the deck and deal each card. You lean forward, drag your lips up the line of her jaw. “That’s an impossible choice. You want all of them.”

She moans, a hiccup of laughter and want, and the weight of her shifts in your lap, urgent. “You wish. You only get one.”

But her hips are grinding now, a rolling, deliberate pressure that tells you exactly what her body needs. The answer is and always has been: every option, at once, and all of them leading back to you.

You palm her ass, fingers splaying underneath the lace edge, and the way she shivers tells you she wasn’t expecting you to touch her with that kind of certainty. For all her bravado and gamesmanship, this is how you win: you move first, and you don’t hesitate.

“Let’s see,” you murmur, mouth against the shell of her ear, making her gasp. “Back door—” a squeeze, a knead that pulls a little yelp from her, “—doesn’t seem like your style. At least not as a first move.”

“Don’t count me out,” she breathes, and you hear the competitive edge in her voice, the same edge that made her stay up all night just to prove you wrong about some irrelevant, beautiful, dumb thing.

You laugh, slow and low, and she shakes against you. “Mouth door,” you say, and you can’t help but grin at the way she’s already licking her lips, hungry, needing to prove something. “Obvious contender. But I think you want it right here.” Your hand finds the heat between her legs, cups her through those ridiculous panties, and her eyes go wide, her breath gone.

You wait a beat. She’s never been great at waiting, but she’s trembling now, lips parted, waiting for your verdict.

“And if I told you it’s definitely not the back door? Does your answer change?” she pants.

You consider your odds. “I think—” you start, but she interrupts.

“Actually,” she says, and the way her voice drips with satisfaction is almost enough to make you lose. “I don’t give a fuck. I want your cock. Right here.”

She grinds against you, and you can’t help but think you’re never spending another day without that feeling.

“Fuck,” you groan, because she won this round, and she knows it. “You don’t play fair.”

She bites her lip, smiling, then reaches between you, fingers wrapping around you with a perfect, firm pressure. “And that’s why you love me.”

She’s right. She’s wrong about so many fucking things, but she’s right about this.

You thrust up into her hand, and she moans, her body arching, her hair falling down her back. You reach for her hips, hooking your thumbs under the lace, and she lifts herself up, letting you pull it down, off, away. She doesn’t care where it lands; she’s already lowering herself back onto you, and you’re closing the distance, guiding your cock to her needy cunt.

“Fuck you,” you breathe, so close to her you can taste it, the subtext of admission against her skin. “I’m not saying it first. I’ll force you to.”

She rocks her hips, taking you deeper, her breath catching with a shudder. “Yeah? You think you can make me?”

You grit your teeth, the friction of her tight around you making it almost impossible to think. “I know I can.”

“Big words,” she gasps, riding you faster, harder. “Think you can back them up?”

You reach between you, your thumb finding her clit, and she cries out, her whole body shaking, her walls clenching around you. “You first,” you growl, and you can tell she’s sensitive. “Say it.”

Her eyes roll back, her lower lip caught between her teeth. You know it, you have her dead to rights, this is your win, and then—”Nuh-uh.”

You thrust up into her, relentless, and the pressure builds, mounting, and she’s so fucking tight around you, and you want her to say it, need her to say it.

She grinds down harder, her nails dragging your shoulder blades, and it’s too much. Too good. Too fucking hot. “You’re gonna say it,” you gasp, your thumb circling her clit faster. “I know you.”

“And I know you,” she pants, her head falling back as she rides you with abandon, her whole body trembling, her breath hitching with every thrust. “I know—oh fuck—you.”

You watch her face as she rocks against you, her lips parting, her eyes wide and desperate and defiant. She’s so close. So close you can feel it, the way she’s fighting it, wanting to hold out, wanting to win.

“Say it,” you growl, thrusting up into her again, harder, not easing up on her clit.

She gasps, and this has to be it. She’s trembling, tightening, drowning in ecstasy and she’s— “I’m—Fuck, I’m cumming, you fucker,” she manages to choke out, and she cums hard. Her head drops forward, no further admission, still no winner as her whole body shudders, her walls clenching around you like she’s weaponizing her orgasm against you, trying to pull the words from you.

You swear, a rough sound that’s almost a surrender, and she laughs, breathless, smug, still shaking in your lap. “You first.”

Your grip tightens on her hips, and you’re so fucking close, but you hold on, hold out, your breath ragged. “I’m not going to give up,” you groan, thrusting up into her in a wild frenzy, loud clapping of flesh colliding now strangling the room. She lets out a strangled sound, and her eyes go wide letting you know she didn’t expect this.

Didn’t expect you to only go harder, to keep fucking her through her orgasm, keep pushing her over the edge again and again and again until she might pass out. You thrust harder, deeper, and her voice breaks, her body wild against yours.

You hold on, and she holds on longer. She’s so tight, so wet, and the heat is building, and you feel her clench around you, feel her mold to your shape. Her mouth opens, and you can’t tell if she’s about to say it or if she’s too far gone, and then—

She pulls off of you. You watch, stunned, as she drops to her knees and wraps her mouth around your cock, and the sight alone is enough to make you lose it. You groan, a deep, ragged sound, and she moans around you, the vibration pushing you over the edge. Your hands tangle in her hair as you come, hot and hard, spilling ropes of cum into her mouth.

“Fuck, Chaewon,” you choke out, the last of your breath leaving your body as every drop of cum you had does the same, her lips still tight around you.

Then she pulls back, and her eyes are on you, wide and bright and triumphant. She cups a hand beneath her chin, opens her mouth, and—

“I love you,” she says, letting your cum spill out over her lips, and there’s a laugh behind it, a tremor of amusement, like she knows exactly what she’s doing to you. Like she knows she just won all over again. She wipes her mouth, cum streaking her chin, her neck, her chest, and she looks so absurdly beautiful you can’t even be mad.

“Chaewon,” you breathe. It’s exasperation and wonder, the way you’ve said her name so many times before. “You’re fucking impossible.”

“Really?” She bats her lashes with a coy look, licking her lips like she’s savoring every last drop of the chaos she’s caused. “Aren’t you supposed to say it back?”

You grab her by the waist, pulling her back up to straddle you past your softened cock, and she giggles, squirming in your lap. “You’re such a fucking brat.”

“And you can’t get enough of it,” she teases, her smile widening,

You stare at her, chest heaving, the words settling into the spaces that were empty for so long. Then you let out a breathless, helpless laugh, pulling her face up to yours, kissing her despite all the filth she let drip out to cover her sweetness.

“Fuck you,” you say between kisses, but there’s no heat behind it, just the weight of relief and joy and everything else you’ve been holding back. “How do you win even when you lose?”

She smiles against your mouth, and you feel it in every part of you. “I guess I’m just smarter than you.”

You do. You say it like it’s the easiest thing in the world. Like you’ve spent the last year waiting for your chance.

“I love you, you idiot.”

She makes a soft sound, and for a second you think she might cry, but it’s just a laugh, bright and giddy and so fucking happy. “I’m glad you do.”

“You’re a fucking nightmare,” you say as you shake your head, trying to hide the cartoonishly large smile she forced upon your face.

“And you’re stuck with me,” she says, kissing you again, her body melting into yours, all softness and satisfaction. Her voice dips, teasing, warm. “Or did you forget?”

“Never,” you murmur, and you mean it. Hell, you’d bet on it.

Her body shifts in response, her being melting into you, her skin sticky but hot against yours. “So,” she says, and it’s light and breezy like that summer day still stuck in your memory, like you’re somehow back in a familiar rhythm, but new nonetheless. “You really think you can handle me?”

You laugh, wrapping your arms around her. “I’ve been handling you for years without the benefit of getting to fuck you.”

She pinches your side, but it’s playful, and you can tell she’s trying not to smile. “Asshole.”

“Yeah,” you say, kissing her forehead. “But I’m your asshole, now.”

She nods, and that alone was worth all the suffering. Because it’s honest.

“Shit,” Chaewon breathes, your skin stuck together with dried cum, pulling loose from you. “We’re a fucking mess.”

“Yeah, well, it’s your fault for trying to be funny,” you say like you’re not covered in it too.

She shakes her head, and it’s like she’s saying it’s your fault for not being the first to say you love her. “We can’t go to bed like this,” she proclaims, trying her best not to get too much filth on her sheets. “C’mon. Shower.”

“Together?” you ask, and she just rolls her eyes like that was the stupidest fucking question you’ve ever asked.

You follow her to the bathroom, the air chilly and the tile cool underfoot. She turns on the water of her shower, letting it heat up as she looks back over at you, one eyebrow lifting like she’s pondering if she should just keep it to showering or not.

“Get in,” she says, pushing you towards the shower. “I’m not letting you sleep until you’re clean.”

She’s already stepping toward the shower when she realizes you’re still standing there. Her eyes narrow, but her lips curve. “What? You’re dawdling now?”

You shrug, and she laughs. It’s not the sound she makes when she’s trying to get under your skin, but the one you’d almost forgotten she could make. Uncomplicated. Real.

She starts taking off the only thing she still has on—her thigh high socks that were the main culprit in why you failed to pick up a girl earlier tonight. You were way too busy admiring how good Chaewon looked, and it didn’t go unnoticed.

“Don’t tell me you’re expecting me to do it for—”

You catch her hand, stop her from peeling them off. She freezes, looks at you like a deer caught in headlights.

“Let’s pretend I lost your three doors challenge,” you murmur, and you hear her breath catch. “It’d be a shame not to eat you out with how good you look in those.”

“So you were staring! I fucking knew it,” she shouts gleefully.

You don’t give it a response. You just hoist her up, and she wraps her legs around you like it’s instinct, gasping, more eager than surprised, as you let her ass meet the bathroom counter. You spread her thighs open to admire, sink to your knees in between them, and look up, getting lost in the way she looks down.

“Oh my god,” she sighs out. “Are you really—”

You don’t let her finish. You drag your tongue up her slit, and her head falls back, the sound of the shower almost drowning out her moan. Almost, but not quite.

“Fuck,” she gasps, the first of many. “Right there. Oh, right—”

You swirl your tongue around her clit, and her hips buck, her whole body trembling. She’s close already, too close, and you know you could end this in seconds, but you don’t. Not yet.

Your hand slides up her thigh, and she shudders as you press a finger against her asshole, teasing, gentle. Her breath catches, and you feel her body tense, then relax, opening for you.

“Shit,” she gasps, her voice breaking. “I’m—fuck, I’m gonna—”

You don’t stop. You don’t even slow down. You work her with your tongue and your fingers and your everything, and she’s shaking.

“Holy fuck,” she gasps, her voice breaking. “You’re—shit—you’re better at this than explaining math problems.”

You groan, a low, rough sound, and the vibration makes her shudder. “Careful, I might bite.”

She laughs, knowing you’re all bark, and her fingers tangle in your hair, not quite pulling you closer, but not allowing escape either. “Don’t stop,” she begs, and she wears it so well that ideas flood your mind. “I’m so fucking close.”

feel her body tense, tight and perfect around you. “Right there. Oh—” You curl your finger, the final bit of tension she needed to release, clenching hard, her hands in your hair, her body on fire. “Oh God, oh—”

She cums hard, her body arching, her legs closing around your head as she cries out, the sound raw and desperate and so fucking good. Your finger slips out but keep your mouth on her, not letting up until she’s shuddering, breathless, her hands tensed up tugging at you.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” she gasps, and you feel the last tremors of her orgasm as they ripple through her. “How did you—I can’t—” She’s lost for words, and it’s ammunition for next time you fight over something stupid.

You don’t move until she tugs at you weakly, pulling you up, and the look in her eyes is almost enough to make you drop to your knees again.

You grab her hand, pulling her toward the shower, but she doesn’t budge. Instead, she drops to her knees, fingers splayed on your thighs. “I’ll admit, you’re pretty fucking good,” she says, her eyes gleaming with challenge. Everything’s a competition with this girl. “But I’m better.”

You don’t have time to respond. Her mouth is on you, hot and wet and perfect, and you groan, your head falling back. She works you with a skill you didn’t think she had, her tongue swirling, her lips tight, and all you can do is hold on.

She pulls back, and the sudden loss makes you gasp. “Feel free to cum wherever you want,” she muses, and your mind floods with options. All too enticing.

Her pace is relentless, precise, and you feel her smile around you, a smug curve against your skin. She’s rapidly proving her point.

“Chaewon,” you groan, and you’re not sure if you’re leading into begging or commanding. “Fuck, that feels—”

She hums, a low, teasing sound, and the vibration makes you curse. Her fingers slide down, cupping your balls, and you feel yourself throb against her tongue.

You’re close, too close, and she knows it. You can tell by the way she pulls back again, her lips glistening, her eyes wild. “I’m not done with you,” she says, and you swear you might die.

“Fuck my face,” she says, and you tremble, your whole body going tight.

“Chaewon,” you gasp, but she’s already got you begging for more, her hands on your thighs, guiding you inside.

You thrust, and she takes it, takes you, her mouth so fucking good you can’t believe this is real. She moans and gags around you, and it’s a sound you’ll hear in your dreams for the rest of your life.

She looks up, her mouth full, and the sight is obscene, incredible. She’s not stopping, not giving you a second to catch your breath, just letting you use her, and it’s all too fucking much.

You’re so close, the heat building, your control slipping. You fuck her face, your hands tight in her hair, and she’s caught between you and the counter, letting you use her, letting you lose yourself.

“Oh God, Chaewon,” you groan, your thrusts erratic, desperate. “I’m gonna—”

She pulls back, and you gasp, her lips getting pressed against the tip of your dick. She strokes you, her lips swollen and wet, and—

“Do it,” she commands, tilting her head back, presenting her face and her tits and her abs and every target you could choose, her eyes pleading to cover not one but all. “Come all over me.”

That’s it. That’s fucking it. You cum hard, your whole body tensing, and she moans as your release hits her face, her lips, her cheek, her chest.

“Fuck,” you groan, and she smiles, licking her lips, and you’re so spent you almost collapse right there.

Then she’s pulling you down, kissing you, and you taste yourself on her tongue.

“At least I was worth the wait, right?” she murmurs, and you pull back just far enough to see the way she’s grinning, the way she’s looking at you like she thinks she won. If only she saw herself right now, you’re clearly the winner.

“Think I’m ready for that shower now,” you say, and you can’t help but smile back, because you’re a mess, and she’s a mess, and you came into this room specifically to be less of a mess; and you love it. You love her.

The water is still running, heating up the room, and you both stand up. She pulls you with her, and the water makes quick work of the art you just made. What a waste, but a waste you love to spend with her.

She notices your face change as the cum disappears from her visage, and chuckles lightly. “You’ll get plenty of other chances.”

You wash her and she washes you back, and it’s slow and easy and comfortable. Like you never thought it could be again. But better. No rush, no desperation. She works the shampoo into your hair, but you can’t stand to not annoy her for another second, pulling her under the spray and rinsing her off.

“Hey,” she protests, but she’s smiling, her eyes bright.

“Hey yourself,” you say, dragging your thumb across her cheek, her lips, her collarbone. “Think I like you like this.”

“Wet?” she asks, and she’s teasing, but there’s a softness behind it.

“That too. But no. Mine,” you say, and her expression shifts, her eyes going soft, her hands coming to rest on your chest.

“You know,” she says, her voice quiet, thoughtful, “That makes you equally mine.”

You tilt her chin up, kissing her, and she melts into it, into you. “I guess that means we both won today.”

She laughs, and it’s the best sound, the best feeling, the best everything. “Guess I can get used to it if it’s with you.”

Eventually you turn off the tap, and she shivers as you wrap her in a towel, pulling her close. “Bed?” you ask, and she nods, simple and easy.

She helps you dry off, and you help her, and you just can’t let each other be right now. She tugs at you, at your hand, constantly leading you, hair still wild and just damp enough to be okay going to bed with. She slips beneath the covers fully naked, but it’s too cold to worry about any of that, so you follow.

You pull her against you, or she pushes herself into you. It’s hard to tell who’s more desperate. Point is, her back is against your chest, and it fits perfectly. Like she was made for it.

“So,” she says, her voice a sleepy mumble, “are you gonna lose your shit if I say it’s fifty-fifty again?”

You groan, exasperated and affectionate, and she giggles, burying her face in your neck.

“Chaewon,” you say, and she turns just enough to look at you.

“Hmm?”

You wrap your arms around her, holding her, holding everything. “You’re fucking annoying. Never change.”

She smiles, soft and genuine, and you know this is the real win. Not the game, not the challenge, not the give and take of a thousand heated mathematical arguments—but this. Her. You. Together.

“Promise,” she whispers, and you feel her breath slow, feel her body relax, feel the unlikeliest odds settle in your favor.

You hold her tighter, and the silence this time is comfortable, a weightless, blissful quiet that lulls you both toward sleep. You barely hear her next words, but they seep into you, the last sweet, stubborn thing you need to know.

That’s the only explanation for you meeting Chaewon at a party, because otherwise, it would be at risk of being labeled as fate—and boy, are those dangerous waters to explore.

And now, she’s ruffling her hair like nothing happened, having just taken a shot of something strong enough to get her ears red. You don’t know which; the party’s buzzing with probably each type of vice, liquor, and sin. You don’t usually attend parties for that reason. You don’t need a bad influence in your life when it’s so easy to get hooked onto the wrong thing.

Yet when your eyes find hers in this pool of bodies, you realize you’re just relapsing into an old dirty habit.

It’s written all over her easy smile, the way the fringe falls over her forehead. Chaewon turns up her chin and says, “Why don’t I know you?”

The audacity of this girl, really. Her voice is saccharine sweet. Her words sound like the lyrics to a siren’s song. You’re already six feet deep into the waters and she’s holding you down.

Yunjin rolls her eyes. She’s your best friend, but she’s also Chaewon’s best friend, which means she knows exactly how this is going to play out. It’s an old story. Chaewon does that seductress act, preying onto some poor guy, and the next thing she knows, they’re making out in the master bedroom.

 “Oh my god, don’t tell me you’re already flirting with him.”

“I’m not flirting with him,” says Chaewon, but she’s not even looking at Yunjin, her hand already ending up on your forearm. “What do you take me for, Jennifer? A slut?”

Yunjin thoughtfully places her fingertip on her chin. “Well—”

Chaewon bursts into laughter and tells her to shut up. God, even her smile is gorgeous. She’s a goddess up close—not a pore or a blemish anywhere on that flawless skin. Her scent is faint and sweet, some fragrance you can’t buy for four digits anywhere. You hate that you notice it. It just makes you think how far behind you are to Chaewon. Girls like her don’t look at guys like you.

Hanni catches Yunjin’s attention, dressed in a heart-shaped little top and fairy boots, looking like a butterfly. She squeals when she sees Yunjin, and their reunion leaves you and Chaewon to yourselves. The tension between you grows thicker. It’s impossible to breathe.

“Don’t listen to her. She’s just jealous I get to have you.” She tilts her pretty head and squints thoughtfully. “What was your name again?”

You can’t believe she’s talking to you, out of everyone in this house party. But you tell her your name anyway, and you can already tell it’s something her mouth will keep to memory. She’s circling you like you’re prey.

Don’t you want to fight back? Don’t you want to puff out your chest and say you know exactly how girls like her work? You’re just standing there, trapped by that golden voice and deadly silhouette. You’re not even pretending you want her to fuck off.

“It’s a nice party,” continues Chaewon. “Kazuha did her big one with it. Invited all the rich guys, the buff ones, the hot ones…” She pauses her stroking on your flesh to finally look you in the eye. “Tell me, are you any of those? Because if not, I’m packing my stuff.”

“I—I’m sort of—”

The serious look is immediately shattered from her face with a gorgeous laugh. “I’m just messing with you,” Chaewon assures you. It’s a cruel thing to joke about but she’s so pretty that forgiveness is instant. “I’m here to take my mind off things like you are. I’m not trying to do anything.”

But you should know by now that Kim Chaewon is a liar. From the very first second, she lied to Yunjin, lied to you about just messing with you. Her hand brushes yours as she reaches for a drink. Then it’s on your arm. Then it’s under your chin as she talks her way into a bedroom.

You don’t stop her. 

The yellow lamplight casts shadows over Chaewon, contouring her figure into a tiny silhouette on the wall. That tiny dress that reveals her back looks better in the dark. All you’re thinking is that this only ends one way, and how it shouldn’t because she’s trouble and you’ve already got problems without Kim Chaewon on your mind. What more are you looking to add?

She’s talking about her friends as she sits on the bed. And she’s got a lot of them—Yunjin, the girl she’s forever linked with; Kazuha, the biggest party girl with somehow the most innocent face, and; Sakura, who’s pretty much an introvert. She likes to stay home and crochet. It’s more fun that way, she had argued, and Chaewon rolled her eyes. This time though, she agreed to wait down in the lobby just in case anybody needed a designated driver. 

“But if you ask me,” she says (you didn’t), “Eunchae dresses best among all of us. I think it’s the sort of Gen Z fashion the older girls can’t master. Knows how to do her makeup, don’t you think?”

You realize here that Chaewon is kind of full of herself, only masking it behind asking your opinions then building another story about herself from that. Every word is a plot device leading to her, the main character. It’s something you find in too many people. They think that everyone and everything orbits around them.

It’s actually a pet peeve of yours but you have to give it to her: Kim Chaewon has every right to be narcissistic. Pretty face, great body, a great bank account to back her vices. She’s the girl every guy wants and every girl wants to be. It’s probably a statement made about girls less attractive and magnetic than her, but you know at the end of the day, it’s a title that only becomes true when given to her. She’s a carnal desire, something you cry about when you confess it to a priest.

“I guess I wasn’t really looking at her,” you admit. 

“Oh?” Chaewon sets her drink down. Her voice drops even lower. “Who were you looking at then?”

It’s a trap. It’s a fucking trap. But before you could tell her you’re leaving, Chaewon’s already kissing you. 

She tastes like vodka and sin and everything you shouldn’t be indulging in. But you do anyway.

She gets on her knees like she’s done it plenty of times for you. You get an idea of how an angel would react when they get a taste of sin when she cums around your cock. Her eyes  shut, her body curls around you like it’s the only thing in the world she can hold onto. She looks fucking perfect.

Girls like Chaewon give you heaven for a night then leave you forever. They leave you wanting more but never give it to you even if you get on your knees and pray.

But Chaewon obviously likes something about you. And come on—she’s no fucking angel anyway. You both can go to hell.

-

You have a place of your own, but most of your time nowadays is spent in Chaewon’s luxurious Gangnam apartment. You raise this concern to her as she does her makeup in the living room mirror. The lipgloss makes her lips look plusher, the mascara enlarging those pretty eyes. You raised concern over her vanity as well, but she dismissed it. You love it when I look pretty for you anyway.

(And you hated to say that she’s right. You love when she puts on lipstick that ends up all over your neck. You love when she wears the sexiest dresses of all so you can take them off. So you zipped your mouth shut and waited another hour for her to doll up.)

“Friends share, don’t they?” she replies. Her ass looks great in those cycling shorts. She said she’s going to the gym, but if she sticks her ass out at you one more time, she’d have to delay. 

You laugh. “Even friends with benefits?”

“It’s in the name, baby. Friends with benefits. Your benefit is staying in this chic place with me, while my benefit is that cock of yours.”

At least she’s clear with the fact that she’s using you. Sure, she likes that you’re easy to talk to and that there are no strings attached. But the feeling of your cock in her is too good to let pass.

And right now, Chaewon’s eyeing you like she’s up to no good.

You know that look. “Now?”

“What, you think I’m just horny 24/7?”

Chaewon walks and talks like she’s willing to go against each word. Those toned, perfect legs stride over to you. Her voice is sultry enough to stir a heat inside of you that, ironically, only she can put out.

She adds fuel to the fire by sliding onto your lap, her favorite seat. The curve of her cheeks perfectly aim at your bulge. You groan as Chaewon starts to circle her hips around you, all while she looks back at you with a bite of her lip.

You close your hands around her waist. “Thought you were driving to the gym?” 

“I could do a different type of exercise here instead.” 

“The membership is like, a fortune per month, Chae.”

You’re struggling to get your words out already. Damn those stupid shorts. Chaewon’s practically humping you. The feel of fabric upon fabric and her plump flesh pressed against yours is dizzying. 

“Doesn’t matter,” Chaewon says. Her breaths shorten but she doesn’t stop moving. The sports bra cups her tits that bounce with each rotation. “I can think of certain ways to pay it back.”

“And what could that be?”

She’s already giving you a hint with the hypnotizing sway of her hips. 

The graze of your clothed cock against her clit makes Chaewon gasp. You haven’t even gotten inside her, nor have you taken off that bra that pushes up her bouncy chest. But the feel of her gyrating against you, knowing exactly how you like it, is enough to make you go over the edge.

Not yet.

Chaewon rises from your lap. You almost groan if not for the show she’s offering you this time. She makes a show of stretching upwards, drawing your eyes to her tight midriff, before turning her back to you. Her fingers hook around the hugging material of her shorts to hike them slowly down her thighs. That bubble butt almost pops out of the fabric.

Only a thong. No wonder the wetness soaked through. 

She bends over a little as she shakes her cute little ass to you. You can see how wet she is, arousal sticking to the tiny thong snug between her cheeks. You quickly remove your pants as well because you know how this goes with Chaewon. She’s fucking insatiable. She never takes no for an answer.

And you never give no as an answer either. You’re a match made in hell.

“I was thinking…” Her knees dent the sofa beside your hips. With her palms on your chest, she works your cock, grinding her swollen clit on the head. Both of you gasp. 

“That’s new.”

“God, shut up.” Chaewon’s whimpering now. “Y-you know how we fuck like animals, right?”

She sinks onto the first few inches, her walls pulsing and fluttering around you. You let out a deep sigh. The sight of your cock disappearing into Chaewon’s tight little pussy never gets old. 

She warms your member for a few delicious seconds, her walls pulsating around you. Chaewon bites her lip and throws her head back. 

“Kind of stating the obvious here, Chae.”

“I know, I’m sorry,” she says in that irresistibly cute voice. It doesn’t seem too cute anymore when you compare it to how she begins to ride you, her hips rolling forward as if she’s trying to feed her cunt more of your cock. “But who’s to say we can’t use it to our advantage?”

She isn’t even explaining herself yet but already it sounds like all sorts of bad ideas. Chaewon herself is a bad idea. You told yourself that at the party, but she ends up on your cock anyway. 

Like right now: her clever hips snap downwards, and there’s that timeless feeling of her walls clenching around you. You lay back on the sofa and try to take deep breaths. Chaewon’s done this before, more than you could tally, but the way she fixes herself onto your cock feels new each time. You have to reacquaint yourself with how tight she actually is. 

The toned line of Chaewon’s back arches beautifully. You can’t take your eyes off it. Your abs tighten up as her ass bounces on your cock. 

“Let’s see: we’re both pretty fucking hot—” You laugh, the sound drowned out by a moan of your own. Chaewon bites her lip. “And we both have a pretty hard time keeping our hands off each other. Imagine the money we could make off that.”

Chaewon’s going faster now. Her strangled groans collide with the sound of her thighs slapping against yours. 

“Are you saying what I think you’re saying?” you ask, because the more Chaewon bounces on you, the more you can’t think of a reason it should be a bad idea.  

Her melodic moans strike every chord. How she could even get words out from how hard she’s riding you, you’ve no idea. Chaewon is a strategist anyway. She knows how to make do. So she rises from your lap, letting each pulsing inch leave her cunt, before ramming them all back inside her. 

You groan. Chaewon laughs, but in spite of it, her languid movements never stop. When she gyrates to and fro, you start thinking about how this is probably a ploy to get you to agree. Look, her body seems to talk to you, in all its little motions and curves, look how good it is to see me stuffed with your fat cock. Look how good you make me feel. Wouldn’t you want to see it all on camera?

You both know what the answer is.

Chaewon’s smirking. “I’m saying we should make a movie.” She starts rubbing her clit, and her breath hitches between her sultry words. “And god, baby, we don’t even have to have a script or anything. It could just be me and you, doing what we do best.”

Her voice gets higher. Her hips start to move faster, more frantically than you could handle. And lord knows you’re the only one who could handle Chaewon. If it weren’t for you, who was going to keep her satisfied?

“And you know the camera’s my best friend. I’d look good getting stuffed by that hard cock from any angle. Anyone can watch you fuck me, but they know they could never be as good as you. They could never own me like you do.”

This has to be illegal. It’s the way she’s egging you on, knowing exactly what to say to ruin you, combined with the orgasmic choreography of her hips that renders you defenseless against her. And what harm could be done? Chaewon looks great on camera, even greater when it immortalizes into pixels how her face looks when she cums. It could be something you’d look back at when you’re worked up and she isn’t there (although that rarely happens), or sell with a reminder taped onto the plastic case that she’s yours. They can watch her get her little pussy destroyed but ultimately, at the end of the day, your bed is where she ends up.

You hate to say it, but all in all it sounds like a pretty fucking good idea.

“Fuck, Chaewon…”

“Is that a yes?” she asks eagerly. The lethal grip of her pussy starts to feel overwhelming. “It’s a win-win situation… please, won’t you say yes? Please, please, please—”

You could never say no to her, honestly. Not when she turns to look back at you with those sparkling doll eyes, and definitely not when she’s milking you.

You watch your cum drip outside of her like a waterfall. It’s hard to take your eyes off it, but then there’s Chaewon’s face, sweaty and lost to bliss. Yeah, she would look great on camera. And you did remember thinking back then, when you first met Chaewon, that she was never the type of girl to not be captured by a camera lens. You admit that your idea was pictorials and Vogue covers, not porn videos.

But later on, after Chaewon goes for a shower again to clean your mess up and actually works out, you find yourself setting up an account. Of course, there needs to be a discussion of some kind of how far you actually want to go with this.

“Do you want to be like… a full-on pornstar?” you ask. The question makes your ears burn. It’s not something you’d ask the average person, but you’ve been through this a million times; Kim Chaewon is not an average girl.

It’s late afternoon and you’re on a videocall with her as she drives home. The gorgeous interior of the Mustang looks almost mediocre when put next to Chaewon’s gorgeous face. 

“Nope.” She shakes her head. “I’m not made for Pornhub, sorry to disappoint.”

“How is that disappointing?” you ask in disbelief.

“I dunno. A lot of people wanna see me do porn, but it’s just gonna be a side hustle for me.” 

Nod as you get the verification code from her email. You realize that you share everything with Chaewon. You know all her passwords and she knows yours. Your bank accounts are intertwined with each other. It’s a bad idea, seeing as there isn’t a clear definition on what’s going on between you. 

But right now, you’re literally creating an account to do porn together. It can’t get worse than that.

You pick Chaewon’s prettiest photo for the avatar—one of her in that tight Diesel top with her fingers through her hair. It parallels with the small rectangle in the corner of your screen.

“It’s asking for your age,” you tell her. 

Chaewon rolls her eyes, hands tightening on the wheel. “You know the names of all the positions we’ve tried but not my birthday?”

Cowgirl at Eunbi’s house as you try to be quiet, 69 at that suite after your promotion—okay fine, maybe she has a point.

“I do know your birthday. I just can’t do math.”

“You’re an idiot,” she says. There’s sweat rolling down the sides of her face. It shines on her chest and drips down the fabric of her sports bra. You can’t stop thinking of how her skin looks so good, flushed and stretched. 

Do a little mental math, eyes up to the spiralling ceiling fan. “Was I still an idiot when I made you cum thrice last night?”

Chaewon’s face burns red. The memory’s still fresh in that pretty little head of hers. “Shut up. Just fix my account and I’ll call Minju to give us advice later.”

“Park Minju or—”

“Please use your head for once. Is there another Minju who’s both a friend of mine and a pornstar?”

Alright, so she’s talking about Kim Minju. Pretty face, cute voice, thighs that could crush you. The girl’s a socialite who only does all the indie films for fun—the talent fees mean nothing to her. 

That’s probably why she does the whole porn thing so well. Top creator minjugato.__. earns millions a month from just a camera, her bed, and another girl. She’s fulfiled a whole niche: not too famous to get into an actual scandal, not too invisible for the common guy to recognize her from a small platform movie and think hey, I don’t mind paying for this.

You look at her slim, composed figure fixed on the edge of your own bed. “How long have you been doing this?” 

Minju smiles. “Not long enough,” she says teasingly, leaning over the PC. She’s typing in a caption for your first livestream. So far she’s helped you get a fair amount of followers with a helpful promotion post. 

minjugato.__.: hi all!!! any weekend plans? :3 mine is to watch my best friend ssamuwon’s new movie later tonight. maybe you should come by!! it’s pretty explicit but i don’t think that would be a problem 👀

The stats rise by the minute. Five thousand people await Chaewon’s debut to start. Everytime you look away the number seems to get higher. There’s clear demand for Chaewon, the hottest girl in Gangnam, perhaps even the whole of South Korea itself.

No need for second-guessing. Chaewon’s in your lap, wearing the tiniest tube top known to man. You’ve seen her in less clothes and without them completely but this one’s just explicit. It accentuates her waist and lets a little skin show before her black shorts—somehow even tinier—hug her hips. 

It’s no wonder at all she managed to convince you to fuck her for work. They’ve said to avoid capitalizing off your hobbies, but let the record show that you won’t ever get tired of fucking Chaewon. 

Minju makes a final click on your keyboard. “You’re live in five minutes. I set up a few ground rules in the corner just in case they get wild.” She fires you a wink. 

Chaewon reads the box of rules sent in the chat, pinned to the top of the stream. It’s all pretty basic. No scat, no invasion of privacy, just the usual. Minju conveniently added that requests paired with high donations are prioritized. You shudder. What would the viewers make you do to Chaewon? There’s too many fantasies to pick from. 

“Thanks for helping me slut myself out, Minju,” says Chaewon with a smile too sweet for what she just said. 

It doesn’t faze Minju at all. She actually laughs, the crease of her eyes making her look like a sly fox. “You know what they say: you have to learn from the best.”

Oh, the best, alright: Minju’s videos speak for themselves. They’ve gotten billions of views, spread across every social media platform to the point she had to commission someone for a watermark. It’s all good publicity anyway. More people watching meant more traction and discovery of her account. 

The air in your room is thick with excitement. The ringlight casts a perfect shadow over Chaewon’s body. There she is, much smaller than you while your shadow alone could overpower here.

And of course, Minju’s hourglass shape is there as well. It doesn’t look like she’s leaving anytime soon. You honestly don’t mind it.

One minute to showtime. Chaewon holds your face in her hands. She’s as flawless as the day you met: perfect skin, thick lashes, eyes that could kill. There’s an evil smile sewn on those glossed lips.

“You ready, baby?” she asks. You’ve often wondered how she does that: she could speak in her usual high, cheerful voice most of the time but when the world dissolves to nothing more than you and these sheets, it drops to this ridiculously sexy low note. She’s insane. She’s unpredictable. But she’s also the sexiest woman you know.

If you had to be honest—

“Never been more ready.”

Chaewon is actually the perfect girl for this job.

When it comes to porn, it has to be specific. Every detail should be. The average viewer looks for something that they can’t get anywhere and it’s her job to be that. When every comment’s assumption about her is different, she has to put on a multitude of faces, all to keep their interest.

And it comes as nothing to her.

anonymous_lurk_79: she’s way too cute to be on here NumberOneMinjuLuver replied: it’s the cute ones that are the freakiest i said the same thing about minju

The red light blinks beside the lens. So does Chaewon, getting on her knees before the camera and batting her lashes. She’s whatever they want to be.

“Hello, is this thing on?” Chaewon smiles sweetly, as if she isn’t discussing being fucked for an audience of seven thousand and counting. “It’s my first time doing this stuff. I hope you all go easy on me.”

She looks up at you then at your growing erection. She giggles. “But I hope this one here goes as hard as he likes.”

Minju giggles, too. Chaewon was a natural.

“Shall we start?” she asks. “How do you want me?”

mingmingult: she looks a lot like the girl in minjugato’s videos whenidiethr0wmyphoneintheocean donated $****: suck his cock first like a good girl

Four digits already? 

Chaewon does as she’s told. She wraps her small hand around your cock, giving it a few hypnotic strokes. Feels like your heart is beating right there in her palm, too. She could feel every hot throb of arousal.

She then wraps her luscious lips around your cock and starts to suck. She suckles on the first few inches, letting her tongue dance around the sensitive bits, before she moves on to take more. You can see her shorts ride further down her ass as she pushes her face on your cock. 

You pick up the camera and generously give the viewers a POV shot. Chaewon blinks slowly at the camera, breaking the fourth wall, and sits on her heels so they could see some of her cleavage. She looks even more enticing and tight in this angle. Try to keep your breaths controlled so it doesn’t drown out the sloppy sounds of Chaewon making out with your cock.

“Such a good little slut,” you murmur. Use your other hand to grab Chaewon’s short hair. She moans happily. Her seductive chuckle vibrates and sends ripples of electricity throughout your body.

1800hotnfun donated $****

Chaewon sloppily presses more of your length down her throat. Her breaths arrive shorter. You have no idea if she’s looking at you or the camera. You get the advantage either way; the juxtaposition of those large innocent eyes and the way she’s blowing you could make any man cum in seconds. 

nsfwizone donated $** 69__jonginkang donated $*****: what a fucking tease ANTIFRAGILENTHUSIAST donated $******: need to see this pretty little whore’s mouth filled w my cum

That would answer your rent for the next few months, with money on the side to really get this gig going. Plus, Minju did say that large donation requests should be prioritized. 

And if whoever this guy was wanted to see Chaewon with cum overflowing from her lips, then so be it.

Your grip on Chaewon’s hair borders on painful. You pull it back, angling her chin upwards. Film from the side and the viewers could see how your cock dents Chaewon’s throat, rapidly filling it up again and again. Her nipples are already hard. Her lips provide a tight suction, her hands on your waist an anchor for balance.

You’re really giving it to her now. Chaewon’s helpless little whimpers do things to you, and apparently to the other eight thousand viewers wishing they were in your shoes. The chat is filled with obscenities. The donations rank up higher. Everyone’s waited far too long to see Kim Chaewon get her face fucked.

If it hurts, Chaewon doesn’t say anything. She doesn’t even push you away or tap out. She lies there with her knees red and grazed, taking every shot you eventually pour into her waiting mouth. Each swift plunge makes her tits bounce in that tight top. Your cum fills her soft cheeks to the brim.

The flash makes the tears in Chaewon’s eyes sparkle. “Did you get every drop?” you ask.

Chaewon nods.

“Show me.”

She looks directly at the camera as she opens her mouth. As expected, you’re given a view of the pool of semen she kept for herself. She swallows it all obediently.

pipipi: fuck that was so hot Bunnybaby: we have a new supreme

You look at Minju for approval. It’s tens across the board for her—she looks flushed, squirming on the chair. There’s a lazy smile on her face.

“Was I a good girl?’’ Chaewon asks. The chat responds quickly. It’s flooded with emojis, donations, and dirty remarks. “Shouldn’t I get a reward for swallowing your cum?”

What reward? There’s a million things you want to do to her. You could bend her over the bed, creampie her, then fuck her ass until her cheeks are red. The possibilities are endless.

You look at the stream for suggestions. One particularly dirty comment points out how hard Chaewon’s nipples are, poking through the tube top in need of attention.

Chaewon reads it, too. Her fingers run up the shape of her figure coyly. “Can Chaewonie touch herself, please?”

She cups her boobs, slowly placing her fingers over the soft flesh. A groan immediately leaves her used mouth. She makes sure to look at the camera when she bites her lip. 

She pushes the top down until it bunches just below her perfect breasts. The fabric pushes up her tits even more, as if coaxing the spotlight to focus on them. 

She starts to pinch her nipples, tweaking and pulling them like they were made to be. You can see her getting worked up already. Each roll of her fingers over the hard nubs makes her soak through her lace panties. The little sounds she makes could kill you.

“Please?” Chaewon pouts. “I’m so, sooo sensitive. Can you help me out, daddy?”

You don’t have to say anything for her to know your answer. Your job is to be silent after all. It’s Chaewon they’re paying for, not you.

You set the camera back in its place and gently push Chaewon to the mattress. You tower over her. You’re taller, bigger, stronger; and it’s even clearer when there’s the lack of proximity between the two of you. She could barely reach your shoulders. It’s the little things like that the audience looks for. 

It’s the little things like that which set you off. 

Chaewon looks good in any angle. She constantly proves that with her Instagram photos, where even closeups make her look like a goddess. But she looks the best when she’s underneath you, writhing for your touch. 

You don’t stall more than you need to. The hot kisses on her neck are just foreplay. You attach your lips to a stiff nipple. She arches her back, but you keep her pinned to the soft cloud that is your mattress—she’s not going anywhere yet. You make sure of that by pinching the other nipple, giving both sensitive breasts equal attention.

“F-fuck…” Chaewon’s whimper is nearly inaudible. The rise and fall of her chest is hypnotic. She pushes her tits into your hand as you lick and suck. “You’re so good at that.”

You’re not selling yourself short, but these easy reactions are easily drawn from the fact that she’s sensitive. Dangerously so. The trail of your hand across her body leaves one of goosebumps. The thrill of getting her face fucked still runs high, and you discovered early on that the easiest way to make Chaewon melt was play with her tits. 

You squeeze her hard enough to make her whine. But your other hand’s grown tired of kneading her breast. It’s more interested in the soaked patch of arousal in the center of Chaewon’s shorts. Her legs immediately lock around your wrist, making you finish what you started. You can’t just play with her nipples then leave her to fend for herself. 

“Don’t stop,” Chaewon gasps. Your digits start to work between her legs. Her thighs tremble and her breath hitch in that particular way that drives you wild. The tight fabric of the shorts makes it difficult for you to intensify your movements, but you make do. Chaewon deserves to get fucked within an inch of her life. It’s what she so desperately wants anyway.

It shows in how she’s pushing herself up against you, tangling her fingers in your hair, hoisting her hips up so you could go deeper. The wet squelch of your fingers driving into her cunt is deafening. It makes her blush, but she’s got no reason to be ashamed. The viewers love it. They’re throwing money at her and betting on how fast she can cum.

Chaewon finally makes a mess on your fingers and screams at the top of her lungs, shaking and whining. When the bliss overtakes her features, you suddenly become sure of something:

You’re about to be the richest guy on the planet.

-

“Jesus.” Minju claps her hands together, looking very impressed. “You two are naturals.”

It’s been three days since Chaewon’s debut, but the profit you made could fit five months.  Chaewon’s doll eyes go wide seeing the numbers on the screen. You’re surprised as well at the followers you got in so little time. Other creators needed months of work to get this kind of traction. 

“This is insane,” you say. Hand Minju a cup of tea while Chaewon measures the damage she did on the internet. Mini tabloids are going crazy. And of course, people on your street are starting to look at her differently. They know too much about what goes on inside Chaewon’s luxury apartment, but they can’t tell the world how they found out.

Minju accepts the cup gracefully. For someone who’s been doing this for so long, she’s massively impressed by the quick success. Chaewon’s follower count will match hers in little time.

“I knew we were gonna do well, but not like this,” you tell her. “Thanks for all the help, Minju.”

Chaewon giggles. “Not that we needed any.”

“Little brat can’t even be grateful,” you say disapprovingly. Chaewon pouts, but doesn’t look regretful in the slightest.

Minju’s laugh is as charming as she is. “She’s not wrong. I don’t think getting money would be a problem, but you have to keep the hype going. You don’t want to peak so early.”

She sounds like a PR manager for all the beautifully fucked up films you’re going to make with Chaewon. You trust her word, though. This was a woman who knows what she’s talking about.

Chaewon studies her nails, painted hot pink and only long enough to scratch your back. “Maybe we could open up requests.”

“That’s a good idea,” Minju agrees. “People would pay a lot to see you live out their fantasies.” She sits back on your couch. A look of amusement crosses her face. “One time a guy paid me five hundred for feet pics.”

You raise your brows. “Feet pics?”

Minju doesn’t recognize the implication and only shrugs it off. You couldn’t believe people were actually into feet. It sounds pretty mild to Minju. She’s probably been made to do worse. “It’s easy money. He could’ve gotten videos with that amount.” 

Chaewon thinks of that for a second. It doesn’t sound too bad. It would take less effort than setting up a camera and managing through violent orgasms. But she thinks she likes the latter more anyway.

She used to hear older people give her advice when she was a student. They said to make money off what she liked to do, and she’d never have to work a day in her life. She smirks. How would they react if she told them how she made her money now?

“You could paywall the more intense stuff,” Minju’s suggesting now. “Don’t ever downplay how good you’re doing. If people want to pay for it and would pay for it, let them. But don’t post too often. You want to keep them wanting more.”

“Biweekly sound fine?” Chaewon asks. Oh, she’s serious about this. You wonder how you’ll survive the next week. 

“Perfect, actually.”

You butt in the conversation for a moment. “What about equipment?” Sure, you had a ringlight and a PC, but there’s nothing more. You imagine that this would take a lot of work and stuff, like a professional camera and neon lights. 

Chaewon was wondering about that as well. She looks at Minju, who shakes her head, much to your surprise.

“You won’t have to worry about that. The average person isn’t going to Pornhub anymore to get off. They want something unscripted now.”

Minju’s fox eyes dart pointedly at the two of you. “They want something real,” she stresses.

Her gaze is sharp with accusation. Chaewon laughs and rests her head on your shoulder. You don’t say a word to deny it.

-

Just in case anybody clutches their pearls over it, you’ll clarify here that you still have pretty normal jobs. You’re not totally prostituting yourselves for money, although you hate to use that term and you’re not desperate for the extra income.

You work a corporate job and volunteer at your nearest charity when you have time on your hands. (Taking note of the latter is advice you have to take yourself because it seems you live off sin 24/7.) It allows you to split the rent with Chaewon and buy food. 

As for Chaewon, she also works a regular job. You think? Wait, you realized that you have no idea what she does for a living. You simply assumed that with all her vices and expensive clothes, she must have a job keeping her busy somewhere.

Come to think of it, you’ve never heard her complain about work. It’s been a while since you moved in and got to know each other, but all the sticky notes about deadlines on the fridge are yours. 

“Chaewon, I have something I want to ask you.”

She turns to you, her legs swinging off the seat at the bar. You gulp. All of her beautiful legs are on display thanks to that tiny brown dress. The only things that bother saving anything to the imagination are her boots. 

That stitched cowboy hat too, if it counts. And it does the opposite of what it should. It makes you think of how well it matches her dress, and the way it makes her look like a cowgirl who could ride—

“Yes?” she says, still bopping her head to the music. 

“Where the hell do you get all your money?”

Chaewon ponders over this for some time, then takes a sip of her margarita. “Oh, I don’t know.” Seeing the surprise on her face nearly makes her spit her drink out from laughing. “Seriously, I don’t know! I think it just shows up in my bank account. I guess our little collaboration helps, too.”

She winks at you. Your breaths shorten.

Nope. Just because she’s the hottest girl alive doesn’t mean she can lie to you. “Liar.”

“Don’t be a dick.”

“What was I supposed to think, Chae?” you say as diplomatically as you can. You gesture to your surroundings. “We’re in one of the most expensive bars in Hongdae where the fucking senators’ kids create scandals. You’re wearing another designer set.”

You had a point. Chaewon shrugs off the offense she took. “My fault for assuming you’d think about anything other than me in this dress.”

She stands up and twirls around. The skirt floats around her thighs. Those safety shorts are way too tiny to be considered safe. Chaewon gets a hit out of teasing you though, grinning when the realization registers on your face.

“Don’t you want to take pics of me?” asks Chaewon with a pout. She doesn’t wait for your answer and hands you her phone. It’s the latest one, pink and sleek. “So we have content to upload later!” 

While you have qualms about taking pictures of Chaewon in her ridiculously provocative outfit, she’s right. It’s been a few days since your last upload. Minju said it was important not to post too often, but too long in between posts could throw your followers off.

So here you are again, playing the role of a photographer. You snap several photos of her within minutes. Chaewon switches between poses like they’re nothing. You have one where she’s bent slightly over the bar, a finger on her lips as she looks coyly at her short skirt. There’s one in the bathroom where she looks at the mirror instead of the lens. She’s holding the cowboy hat on her head and winking. 

All that skin, that shameless seductiveness… it feels like you’re getting drunk off of these sexy photos instead of the alcohol. Chaewon is too hot for you to handle.

You return to your private booth to upload them. What would she do without you? You’re her fuckbuddy, best friend, and social media manager all at the same time. 

anyone know where i can find a ride? ❣️🤠

It’s difficult to think of a good caption. Choosing which photos to post is ruining you. Not to mention the filtering to bring out the brown of her eyes and the sunlight. It makes you stall. You have to keep staring. You have to take note of every detail, every delicious curve of her body. Images of Chaewon posing, winking, and showing off are burned forever into your mind.

Your hands shake as you hit post. Turn your phone off. Focus on having a good time and dancing and singing and whatever you do, do not take another look at those pictures. 

“Oh, you poor thing.” 

Oh no. 

Chaewon sounds smug as ever as she takes a seat on your lap. “Hard already? We aren’t even in the bedroom.”

You don’t need this right now. Getting an erection could not come at a more inconvenient time. You can’t say anything provided that you can’t even meet her eyes.

“Don’t worry,” she purrs. “I’m gonna take care of that.”

There’s a hunger in Chaewon that needs to be satiated today. You can see the fire in her eyes as she pulls you out and wraps a fist around your stiff cock. The sight of her small, dainty hand compared to your shaft is provocative by itself. Those large, deceptively innocent eyes stay on yours while she drags her delicious touch up and down, preparing you for her. 

“Been needing you so bad lately…” 

Chaewon lifts her hips slightly. She allows your cock to rub between her slick folds, teasing at her entrance but never quite giving her what she needs. Her breath hitches when you hit her clit. 

“Promise to fill me all the way up,” she whines. “Don’t leave a single drop.”

You wouldn’t dare. There hasn’t been any penetration yet the wetness of her puffy lips feels like heaven. In your hands, her core works her waist into circles. More precum ends up grinding and mixing between your sexes. 

Chaewon whimpers. “Promise me.”

“Fuck, gonna fill this pussy up, Chaewon.” Her nipples poke through the thin bikini. Her grinding grows more desperate as you groan out your obscene promise. “Gonna breed this perfect pussy. Just ride my cock like the pretty little fuckdoll you are.”

She can’t take it anymore. Chaewon slams herself down on your cock in one go.

The stretch hurts so good. Her head throws back with a breathy moan. Her soft walls immediately hold onto you, throbbing and needy. 

The music is a dull thump through the walls. You could feel the bass in your heart time with Chaewon’s bouncing. Her back is against the door. 

“There,” she gasps. “Right there, don’t stop…”

Her eyes are dim with pleasure. You bring a hand up to pinch and roll her nipple, circling the taut peak with your thumb. Immediately Chaewon’s internal muscles clench around you like a vise. 

Her hips start to lift and dance in a little choreography of an impending orgasm. You hold her down, pinning her to your lap while you thrust up in her. The tightness becomes harder to push past through. She’s so tense that you have to rub your thumb against her clit to get her to relax. 

Your eyes meet. Jesus, she was a sight for sore eyes. The toasty, sunkissed color of her makeup makes her look like she’s blushing. The two of you are flushed either way. There’s forbidden excitement in knowing one of the servers could walk in here at any moment and see Chaewon riding you harshly. You shouldn’t be doing this here. There were important people who could raise this complaint to the higher-ups and get you banned forever.

You can stop the bullshit. When has hesitation saved you from getting in trouble? When has anything convinced you not to fuck Kim Chaewon? 

-

You didn’t even mean to execute this request so well.

It just so happens that this is how a day in your life looks like with Kim Chaewon. While they pay to place themselves in your shoes and see it happen, you’re the one who actually gets to touch her. 

A guy who went by the username hanyoooojin sent a large amount of money the moment Chaewon announced requests. Unlike the other ones who filled up the rest of the slots, he didn’t want anything overly specific.

Netflix and chill anyone? 😉

That was the caption you set for the video. It’s something enticing even with its simplicity, and come on, people would watch anything if it had Chaewon in it. 

The camera records everything. It starts out with Chaewon dressed in your shirt. It’s way too big on her, and if the fabric were any more see-through, it would be clear she only had a bra on. She’s lying next to you on your bed as a movie plays on your TV.

The volume is low, almost to complete silence. It’s only static background noise to what’s going to happen.

Chaewon snuggles against you. Her body is already warm. But she does a good job of acting like she’s interested in the movie. She called it boring a million times before, and you remain convinced it was an attention span issue. 

“I fucking hate when movies are slow,” she had said. She rolled her eyes. “What’s the point of making me wait thirty minutes for something exciting to happen?”

“Sounds a lot like you to hate taking things slow,” you replied easily, earning you a punch in the shoulder.

Maybe that’s why her hand slips under the blanket a little too early. You’re supposed to be a sweet domestic couple. It’s just a role you have to play for cash to come in. Chaewon’s the sweet girlfriend and you’re the boyfriend who still wants to hang out with her even when you’re exhausted. You watch a movie together, as requested, pretending you have no idea of what she’s about to do.

Her creamy thighs folded against each other hide her wetness. Chaewon’s become a master at angles. She knows to lift the blanket a little above your thighs so the camera captures her hand in your shorts. 

You look down at what she’s doing and laugh. “Thought you wanted to watch a movie,” you say. 

Her lazy strokes work you to full mast. You remind yourself that this was supposed to be unhurried, but there was no delaying gratification around Chaewon. 

Chaewon takes her eyes briefly off the screen to smile at you. “I do.” Her voice is soft and unfazed. She looks adorable in those puppy pajamas. It really sells the fantasy. “But I can do two things at once, can’t I?”

Her thumb circles your tip with maddening precision. Chaewon kisses you with the same gentleness she uses to jack you off. You can tell she’s struggling not to pounce on you. This isn’t the kind of sex she was used to. Sex for Chaewon was trading orgasms until one of you confessed you ran short. 

For this one, she has to keep herself sane. She has to be tender with it. She takes your hand, squeezes it in hers, and places it right where she needs you. The tiny pajama shorts allow easy access to her cunt. 

“Just keep watching,” she whispers.

The hair at the back of your neck stands up. Your lips find Chaewon’s again. You run your fingers up and down her slick folds while she jerks you off. Aside from a few heavy breaths and twitches of her tight body, she doesn’t take her eyes off the movie. She’s equal parts engrossed by it and focused on getting you off.

Chaewon’s voice runs into a whine as you go faster. Her thighs start to get messy with her own arousal. It’s taking everything in her not to strip off this shirt and ride you. She can do that later, something even the audience can’t pay to see. 

Even though you’re needy and throbbing in the soft grip of her fist, you smirk. “What’s the matter, baby? I thought you said we should focus on the movie.” 

Chaewon is still intent on keeping up the pretense. But it’s clear she wants this, too, the handjob no longer the unhurried routine she initiated.

You thrust your fingers against that sweet spot she’s been aching for you to reach. Chaewon’s body curls around you tightly. Her fingernails find purchase scratching on your forearm. 

She can’t do this any longer. You’re the only actor she can watch now. Her gaze seals onto yours as her movements grow more frantic, like she’s willing you to do the same. You have one common goal here, really. It’s evident from the precum leaking onto her wrist, her cunt pulsing around your digits. This could only end one way.

That’s one of the many requests you and Chaewon fulfill. Besides the need for real stamina, especially for longer videos, it’s actually not that taxing. It’s no construction job anyway, but fucking Chaewon comes easily to you. It takes no work at all when it’s as natural as improv.

Over the weeks, you get people tipping generously just for photos, and you remember what Minju said about them. People paid a lot to see a pretty girl naked and doing whatever they wanted.

“It’s up to you if you want to do them,” you remind Chaewon. It’s one of those lazy afternoons where you’d rather bask in the airconditioning than do anything productive. While you’re fully conscious, your body’s still in sleep mode, draped in the duvet and Chaewon’s form.

Chaewon rolls her eyes. You don’t really see it since she’s clicking away at her phone, but you know her so well that it’s like watching a movie you got a first look at unfold. “Look at you getting all mushy. I told you I don’t break easily.”

You know that, too. You’ve folded her in half and split her legs apart so many times, but you learned not to let her small stature fool you. In no makeup and just an oversized shirt and shorts, Chaewon’s the most antifragile person you know. 

You wave a hand in the air. “Of course you won’t break down. You’re the most dick-addicted girl in the world.” Chaewon snorts at that. “But we’re doing homemade porn for a reason. This isn’t a corporate or something. You don’t have to do every request there is.”

Chaewon sees where this is leading up to. She shuts her phone and shifts on the bed, the ocean blue sheets rustling above her. Her arms rest on your stomach. 

She tilts her head to the side like a puppy. There’s an amused smile on her face. 

“First of all, you should stop worrying so much,” she tells you. The faux sternness in her tone shouldn’t be this cute. “And second of all, nobody’s making me do anything I don’t want to do. I’m a big girl, you don’t have to worry about me.”

Right. It should be common sense already. Chaewon’s always done things of her own accord. She’s not the malleable type of girl who takes no trouble to convince. It’s honestly one of the traits you admire about her outside of the bedroom. Maybe, if you had Chaewon’s heart of steel or one-track mind, you wouldn’t have let her fuck you at that party. You wouldn’t be in this bed with her.

But god, were you glad you’re here.

You lose yourself in these thoughts for barely five seconds and she’s already suddenly too close. One wrong move and you’d end up kissing her. There’s that warmth again, radiating from her body in what you figured to identify as a sign. You get one too many good omens from Chaewon.

“And you know what I really, really want to do?” she asks breathily. Every word is a sultry huff against your lips.

Very few could stand a chance against her. You think it’s why she likes you so much and keeps you around, regardless if she’d admit it. You’re the only guy who could look her in the eye like you are right now and reply, “Do I even have to guess?”

It doesn’t take long for it to happen. These spontaneous sessions are becoming a bad habit. But how can you help yourself when Chaewon looks like that? You’ve no defense against those lithe legs and tight midriff, much less against that even tighter pussy. 

It just so happens all this looks great on camera.

You close the gap between you until it feels like your bodies are bonded together. They’re impossible to break apart. You have one hand closed around Chaewon’s wrists, the other on her hip. The pillow muffles her screams as you thrust into her mindlessly. Her ass is sore and red. 

“God, all that talk was for nothing, wasn’t it?” It’s always worth it in the end. You completely own her. Her pussy was just made for your cock, clinging wetly onto your girth and doing so even tighter when you back it out. “You just wanted to rile me up so I can show you you’re my good little slut, taking my dick like you were born to do.”

Chaewon’s crying out, messy little sounds tumbling out of her drooling lips. The pillowcase bears her weight and those tears of bliss. The truth is she wouldn’t trade this for anything else. She could spend all her life on the end of your length, whining her tiny waist into your palms and her ass perked and ready for you. She wouldn’t know what to do without hearing the sound of your skin snapping against hers.

“Feels so—fucking—good!” Chaewon sobs into the pillow. Senseless words are all you could fuck out of her. She can’t think much when you have your dizzying grip on her wrists like that or when you’re completely destroying her tight hole. “I’m just your personal cumdump, I’m all yours, you’re going so fucking fast—”

She’s absolutely dripping around you. Her body responds to you so well because this is exactly how she likes being fucked. She likes being fucked as if you’re trying to get her cunt to memorize the shape of your member. Not one spot on her body is left untouched. Her pussy tightens dangerously when you drive up into her cunt and those messy moans could be heard even with the fabric against her mouth. 

And it’s incredible without all the lighting and ignoring the camera blinking next to you. You’ve got a great view: Chaewon bent over and her ass up on the bed, the hourglass shape of her waist to her hips even more appealing from this angle, and her toned back shining with sweat. Her tits swing back and forth in response to the force you’re taking out on her. It could make any man go crazy.

You should’ve known to put towels on the bed, because the ending’s always the same when Chaewon feels the entirety of your control, when she’s being fed every thick inch of your cock, being handled like she’s nothing but a doll to release into—

“Oh my god!” Chaewon cries out, the lightning before the thunder, the thunder before the storm. Her scream is equal parts bliss and awe—she’s shaking all over, and the swift deep drills of your cock draw out her squirt. 

Neither of you expect it. The sharp sound of it makes you slow down. She hasn’t stopped pushing her ass into you. The puddle gets on your thighs and hers, splattering on the sheets. You feel suspended in mid-air staring at the mess she’s making. It feels even more surreal knowing you did it to her.

Chaewon collapses forward, her cheek against the softness of the pillow. It’s ridiculous how good she looks in spite of the messy hair and kiss-swollen lips. Always the temptress. The camera shines light on her exhausted, satisfied simper. 

And of course, there’s the evidence that will prove this happened. It will back you up even if Chaewon randomly decides not to post this video on the internet or worse, call everything off. The fresh mess she left on the blanket—the same one you had just been cuddling in a few hours earlier—is all the proof you’ll need.

Chaewon laughs breathlessly. She arches her back beautifully as she pulls away from your cock. It’s the perfect ending scene. 

-

All entertainment industries are parallel to each other in a way. You could work in film (legitimate films, by the way—not whatever you and Chaewon are making), music, or K-pop but what they don’t tell you is they all work the same. They manufacture and process things that appeal to the consumer. You could play the usual tropes, tunes, or concepts. Go down the loveteam road or make another generative pop song. If you’re brave enough, you can search for a niche and make it your brand.

You can do anything—release an Oscar-winning film or write a critically acclaimed album, pick your poison. It all boils down to one thing everyone is looking for anyway:

A big break. 

It will solidify your place in the industry and make sure you stay there, and if not, it makes sure you get a higher spot. A big break would earn you a loyal amount of followers and more money in your pocket. Very few get their big break. Some, although deserving, don’t get theirs at all.

In Chaewon’s situation, her big break was that video. Everyone’s talking about it and everyone’s absolutely obsessed with it. You see it posted in places you don’t expect seeing it: Instagram group chats, the NSFW side of Twitter, and the first Google result that pops up when you search Chaewon’s name. It’s gotten so much traction that you start putting a watermark of her username over the videos, along with a link to her social media profiles should they ever get crossposted again.

It’s an overnight success. You grin when you see Minju’s messages, supportive as always.

Her phone kept vibrating in her hand. She pulled it out and opened her social media apps. The notifications flooded in, mostly from fans. But as she scrolled, the comments turned dirty fast. One said, 'Tzuyu in that lace? Fuck, I want to rip it off and pound her right there on the runway.' Another popped up: 'Those tits are begging to be sucked. Look at how hard her nipples poke through.' Then even more: 'Her ass cheeks peeking out like that— I'd bend her over, spread them wide, and tongue her tight little hole until she screams my name.' Tzuyu's cheeks burned hot. She was just a sweet, shy idol from Twice, new to this kind of modeling gig. These words hit her like a shock, making her stomach flip. But deep down, a strange warmth spread through her body. Her nipples tightened against the thin lace, standing out stiff and obvious. She crossed her legs tight, feeling a tingle between her thighs. She bit her lower lip hard, trying to push away the naughty images filling her mind. She glanced around quickly, hoping no one noticed her flushed face or the way her breathing quickened.

Just then, Lisa, her assistant manager, walked up with a clipboard in hand. Lisa was efficient and always on top of things. 'Tzuyu, that was amazing out there! You owned the runway. Now, let's get you into the next outfit—it's all set up in the private changing room. Come with me.' Tzuyu nodded, her voice soft and shy. 'Okay, thank you.' She tucked her phone into the small pocket of her robe and followed Lisa down a narrow hallway. The sounds of the show faded a bit as they went. The room they entered was small but fancy—soft overhead lights, full-length mirrors on every wall, and racks of glittering lingerie hanging neatly. The air smelled sweet, like fresh flowers mixed with the faint musk of body heat from all the activity.

But Tzuyu froze when she saw the four men already inside. They were huge, with broad shoulders and thick arms that strained against their black shirts. Their eyes locked right on her, scanning her body from head to toe. Lisa didn't seem bothered. 'These are your specialists for the quick change,' she explained casually. 'The show's moving fast, and they're the best at getting models ready without a hitch. Totally professional—everything stays confidential.' Tzuyu's voice came out small. 'Um, where are the female helpers? I thought…' Lisa gave her a reassuring pat on the back. 'They're tied up with other girls. Trust me, these guys know what they're doing. Just relax and let them handle it. I'll be right outside if you need anything.' With that, Lisa slipped out and shut the door behind her, the lock clicking softly into place.

Tzuyu stood there in the center of the room, her heart pounding louder now. Her wide, innocent eyes darted between the men. They towered over her petite frame, their presence filling the space. The tallest one stepped forward first, holding up the next outfit—a shiny red corset that looked even more revealing than the last, paired with a tiny matching thong. His voice was deep and steady. 'No worries, Tzuyu. We're here to make you shine even brighter on that runway. Arms up, and we'll get this lace off you nice and easy.' She hesitated, her mind screaming to call Lisa back or run out. But the show was counting on her, and backing out now would look bad. Swallowing hard, she raised her arms slowly. The men closed in around her, their bodies so close she could feel the heat coming off them.

Hands reached for her at once—strong, calloused fingers working the tiny hooks down the back of her bodysuit. They undid them one by one, deliberate and unhurried, even though the show was rushing. The lace loosened, and the top part peeled away from her skin. Her perky breasts came into view, small but perfectly shaped, with pink nipples already pebbled from the cool room air and the lingering heat from those online comments. One man tugged the suit lower, over her flat stomach and narrow hips. His knuckles grazed the soft mound of her pussy through the fabric, sending an unexpected jolt through her. Tzuyu gasped softly, her arms dropping to cover her chest. 'W-wait, I can…' But they gently but firmly pulled her arms back up. 'Easy now,' the one behind her murmured, his breath warm against her ear as he slid the suit down her thighs. 'We've done this a hundred times. Nothing to be shy about.' He chuckled low, the sound vibrating through her.

In seconds, the bodysuit pooled at her feet, leaving her completely naked except for the strappy heels that made her legs look endlessly long. Goosebumps prickled her skin, and she shivered, her face turning a deep shade of pink. The men didn't let her stand there exposed for long—they moved like a team, efficient but with touches that lingered just a bit too much. The kneeling one picked up the thong first. 'Step in, one foot at a time.' He guided her heels through the leg holes, then slid the thin fabric up her calves, over her knees, and along her smooth thighs. His rough palms brushed the inside of her legs, inching higher until his fingers nearly touched the crease where her thigh met her pussy. Tzuyu's breath hitched; she felt the first hint of dampness gathering between her folds, her body betraying her shyness.

Next came the corset. They wrapped the stiff red material around her waist, pulling the laces tight from behind. It cinched her in, making her waist tiny and thrusting her breasts up higher. As they adjusted the cups over her chest, the touches turned bolder. The tallest man's thumbs traced lazy circles around the edges of her areolas, avoiding the stiff peaks but close enough to make them ache. A spark shot straight down to her core, and Tzuyu squirmed. 'That… that tickles,' she whispered, but her voice lacked conviction. He leaned in closer, his lips near her ear. 'Tickles, or feels good? Your body's telling us it likes the attention.' Her hips shifted involuntarily, the heat building low in her belly like a slow fire.

The men rotated around her, each taking a turn to 'adjust' the fit. One slid his hand down her side, fingers splaying over her hip to smooth the corset. But he dipped lower, his palm cupping the curve of her ass cheek, giving it a firm squeeze that made the flesh jiggle slightly. His pinky finger dipped into the cleft, brushing the sensitive skin there. Tzuyu let out a tiny whimper, her protests soft and fading. 'Please, I think I can fix it myself…' Another ignored her words, focusing on the shoulder straps. He tugged them into place, but his knuckles dragged repeatedly over her nipples—up and down, side to side—until they throbbed. Then he pinched one lightly between his thumb and forefinger, rolling it just enough to send a sharp zing of pleasure-pain through her. She arched her back without meaning to, a quiet 'Ahh' escaping her lips.

They zeroed in on her nipples now, turning the simple change into something far more intense. The second man stepped up, his eyes dark with focus. He took her left nipple between his fingers and rolled it slowly, from the base up to the tip, applying just enough pressure to make it swell and pulse. He twisted gently, watching her face as her innocent features twisted in confusion and growing need. Then he released it, leaving it tingling in the air. Tzuyu's chest heaved, her breaths coming in short pants. He moved to the right one, pinching and tugging it outward before letting it snap back. The pull made her gasp, her knees weakening. Leaning down, he blew a stream of warm breath over both peaks, watching them tighten even more without a single touch. 'Breathe through it, sweetie,' he said, his hand steady on her waist to keep her from pulling away. She leaned into him instead, her body craving the contact despite the shame flooding her mind.

The third man was rougher. He flicked his tongue out, lapping at one nipple in broad, wet circles around the areola. The flat of his tongue dragged slow, coating it in saliva that cooled quickly in the air. He avoided sucking, just teasing the edges until her breast quivered with each pass. Tzuyu's hands clenched at her sides, fingers digging into her palms. 'It… it feels too sensitive,' she murmured, her voice like a child's plea. But when he switched sides, grazing his teeth lightly over the tip—just a nip, not a bite—her resolve cracked. A soft moan slipped out, and her eyes glistened with unshed tears of overwhelming sensation. He pulled back, admiring how her nipples stood out red and begging, every tiny breeze making her flinch.

By the time the fourth man approached, her nipples were hypersensitive peaks, wired straight to her pussy. He captured both between his fingers, squeezing in a rhythmic pulse—tighten, release, tighten—like a heartbeat matching her own rapid one. Each squeeze bordered on too much, blending ache with electric pleasure that made her clit throb in response. He tugged them in unison, elongating them before letting go, and Tzuyu's legs buckled. She swayed, grabbing his arm for support as waves of heat crashed through her. 'I… I don't know if I can stand this,' she breathed, but her body pressed forward, silently asking for more.

Their attention shifted lower, to the tiny thong barely covering her. The wetness from her arousal had already started to show, a dark spot forming on the fabric. The tallest man knelt again, claiming he needed to attach the garters properly. His hands traveled up her leg, starting at her ankle and sliding higher—past the curve of her calf, over her knee, to the soft inner thigh that trembled under his touch. He paused at the edge of the thong, so close to her heat that she clenched her muscles instinctively. 'Just a little wider, Tzuyu. Gotta make sure everything's secure.' Blushing furiously, she parted her thighs a few inches. His finger hooked under the side strap on her hip, pulling the fabric away from her skin slowly. The stretch pulled the front tight against her pussy lips, the seam rubbing directly over her swelling clit. When he let it snap back, the friction hit like a spark. Tzuyu yelped, her hips jerking forward as fresh wetness flooded her folds. The thong clung to her now, soaked and translucent, outlining every detail of her puffy lips and the hard nub above.

He noticed immediately, a smirk tugging at his lips. 'Look at that—you're getting all slippery already.' He tugged the fabric to the side fully, exposing her bare pussy to the room. Her slit glistened with arousal, a neat trim of soft hair framing it. Her clit peeked out, swollen and pink. He traced one finger from her entrance upward, gathering her slick juices, then circled the clit with feather-light pressure. Tzuyu bucked, a strangled 'No, please wait!' tumbling out. But her protest dissolved into a whine as he kept the touch maddeningly light, building the pressure without release. He stopped just as her thighs quivered, leaving her hanging on the edge.

The second man took over, using both hands to part her pussy lips wide. He held them open, letting the cool air kiss her exposed clit and inner walls. It twitched visibly, desperate for more. Tzuyu moaned, her head falling back against the mirror. He finally rubbed, firm circles with his thumb that made her hips grind air. Her inner muscles fluttered, more cream leaking out to drip down her thighs. 'Feels like you need this bad,' he growled, but he eased off right when her breaths turned ragged, denying her the peak.

The third pushed further. He pressed one thick finger against her entrance, sliding it in just the tip—enough to stretch her tightness—then withdrawing. He repeated it, shallow thrusts that teased her walls. Each time, he curled the finger to graze that sensitive spot inside, while his thumb flicked her clit sporadically. Tzuyu's resistance crumbled; she gripped their arms hard, her nails digging in as she panted. 'It's building up… too intense, I feel so full and empty at once.' Her hips rolled to chase the intrusion, her pussy clenching around nothing now, the scent of her arousal heavy in the air.

The fourth man amped it up, cupping her entire mound and grinding the heel of his hand against her clit in slow, deliberate rolls. His fingers danced at her hole, dipping in deeper with each pass—one knuckle, then two—but always pulling out before she could clamp down. Tzuyu trembled violently, every nerve alight. 'Please… I can't take the teasing anymore. Touch me right,' she begged, her innocent facade shattering as raw need took hold. Tears of frustration welled in her eyes, her body a live wire.

The tallest one decided it was time. He guided her back until her ass hit the edge of the vanity counter, the cool surface a shock against her heated skin. Her legs spread wide on instinct, the men holding her thighs apart to keep her open and vulnerable. He plunged two fingers deep into her soaked pussy, filling her completely. They scissored inside, stretching her walls as he crooked them to rub that front spot relentlessly. His thumb mashed her clit in tight, fast circles. Wet squelching sounds echoed with each thrust. 'Let it go, Tzuyu—cum hard for us. You've earned it.' Her last whisper of 'I shouldn't…' faded as the orgasm crashed over her. She cried out, her pussy convulsing around his fingers, squirting a gush of clear fluid that splashed his wrist and the floor. Her whole body shook, waves of ecstasy ripping through her until she slumped, spent and dazed.

They didn't rush her after. Gently, they straightened the corset, wiping away the evidence of her release with soft towels. Their hands were tender now, almost caring. 'All set for the runway, beautiful?' one asked with a knowing grin. Tzuyu nodded weakly, her mind foggy. The shy girl who'd entered was gone, replaced by someone awakened. She straightened up, smoothed her hair, and headed back out—changed, ready, and secretly craving the lights.