Kointon

She slid her sunglasses back over her eyes and she unscrewed her flask, letting ice-cold water wash away the dryness in her throat. Mobile phone out, she relaunched her music player and resumed vibing to summer songs. It was the only thing keeping her sane under the sweltering heat of the summer sun, and boy did she hate being a lifeguard.

“False alarm. I repeat. False alarm,” Chaeyoung spoke into the walkie talkie.

Beep.

“Roger that. Continue to keep a look out.”

Chaeyoung pressed the button and replied, “Copy.”

She sighed and fastened the device back to her life vest, leaning back onto the chair. She lifted and swung her leg over the other, crossing it deliberately as she tried to cover her panties from ogling men and drooling women alike.

Why can’t they mind their own business and stop looking at me? she thought, dabbing sweat off her forehead with a handkerchief that was already soaked with her sweat from an hour ago. Heat buzzed around her like unrelenting waves of discomfort, each one squeezing out unceasing drops of saline stickiness from the pores of her skin.

But that wasn’t what irked her.

Yes, Chaeyoung knew she was a gorgeous lady and gazes would naturally gravitate towards her. However, what she hated was that people looked at her because of her beauty.

Among other things.

Her snow white skin under the blazing sun was definitely considered the eighth Wonder of the World, along with her slender and sexy body and legs that were classified as the ninth. She was the definition of the beach’s Sex Aphrodite who saved lives with her looks.

And to make her point known again, she really hated being a lifeguard to her core. She had so much hatred for it that she had stuck with this job for eight years just to see if the job would piss her enough to force her to quit.

But she was the better woman. She would never let such a minute thing get the better of her. She was the gracious and stronger one who toughened through all the stares of admiration, lust, glamour, lechery, adoration, and concupiscence.

She would not leave.

Definitely because of the free lodging and the high pay the job provided. She was a slut for money too after all, much like everybody in the world.

She raised her hand and pressed it forward, looking at the sun through her shades. She measured the distance between the glowing ball and the horizon of the sea, estimating how many more hours it would take before she would be liberated from this gaze hell.

Four more hours till sunset.

She hoped that the night shift bastard would come and take over her soon, as much as she despised him. A disgusting lecher who always slurped his tongue as he looked up at her, trying his best to peer through her underwear whenever she climbed down the lifeguard chair.

But she had no one to blame but herself. It was what she had chosen, despite being touted as one of the beach’s goddesses.

She knew how parents dragged their kids out of her surveillance zone. She knew how men undressed her with their eyes. She knew how women fantasised about one night stands with her.

Everybody looked at her, but nobody saw her.

It was her fault after all.

Was it wrong to embrace sexuality? Was it wrong to love oneself? Or was it a crime to want those things on her own terms?

Why couldn’t the world look at her like how she looked at herself?

beep.

She looked at her phone.

Liar.

She pocketed her phone.

In any case, Chaeyoung dozed off and left the surveillance to her other lifeguard colleagues fifty metres to either side of her.

You stood to the side, looking at her with puzzled eyes.

~~~

The set up was ready.

Three, two, one… and start.

“Hi everyone, chaengrang here~”

Chaeyoung leaned forward and looked at the camera, which was already recording, streaming whatever that was happening in her room to her viewers.

“It’s been a looooong day, and I couldn’t wait. So today, I’m already undressed.”

She stepped backwards and gave her body a slow, teasing twirl, showing off every slutty angle — her barely covered tits, the thin strip of bikini bottom wedged between her ass cheeks, and the obvious damp spot already darkening the fabric covering her pussy.

The stream chat exploded with playful teases and protests, mixed in with donors generously gifting her money.

webbedavianbird: cmon you arent even totally naked

erosheros: take it off, you look hot but I wanna see all of you

“Impatient, aren’t we?” Chaeyoung smirked, giving her upper lip a slow, sensual swipe. “Too bad for you gooners today. Your sex goonette is just staying like this.”

She hooked her fingers under the red-and-white striped bikini top, peeling it down just enough to show her already taut and stiff nipples. The hot air made them ooze a little more sweat for a brief, tantalising second before she let the fabric go. Her bikini snapped back into place, hiding her arousal from millions of hungry eyes across the planet.

ghostercomplicated: please… give us the full show

“You poor little things, today will be a special show, so stop worrying about it,” Chaeyoung cooed mockingly. “Today’s going to be a very special show, so stop worrying and just watch.”

“Maybe even more than watch,” she whispered, pumping her hands in a twisting motion up and down an imaginary cock.

She disappeared off camera for a moment, and the next thing they knew, the entire camera jolted and shifted. Their eyes shook along with how Chaeyoung was moving the camera vigorously and nauseously, before it finally settled into a position that was questionable.

It was repositioned onto a tripod that rested on the floor, capturing the lewd sight before their eyes. Centered perfectly in view was an eight-inch dildo erected off the ground like a veiny tower, stuck firmly to the flat surface with the aid of a suction cup. Its realistic head was already glistening with a fresh coat of lube. Before their minds could register what was going on, Chaeyoung was already mounting it, her legs spread wide as she squatted over the massive toy.

With one hand, she pulled her bikini panties aside, exposing her puffy, dripping pussy lips. With the other, she pressed the fat head of the veiny cock against her entrance, eyes rolling back slightly as she sank down.

“Fuccckkk…”

She let out a lust-drunk groan, relieved that she was finally being stretched for all to see after a long day of work. She sank her body further down, letting her favourite comfort cock fill her greedy cunt inch by inch, until her ass rested against the floor. The delicious fullness made her walls flutter and clench hard as it sat snugly in her constricting heat.

Her mouth fell open in pure bliss from the feeling of being filled to the brim, and she needed to experience that feeling over and over again.

More. Immediately.

So she lifted her hips and slammed it down.

Thud.

The dildo battered deep into her guts as she fucked herself onto it, pushing each and every pleasure button that made her eyes roll and her tongue loll.

“S-Shit,” Chaeyoung cursed, but she was smirking at the desperate viewers stroking their cocks and fingering their soaked pussies. “Take your goonsticks and start pumping, you pathetic gooners.”

She slammed her devouring pussy harder onto the veined monster with wet squelches.

“And you goonettes, stuff those pretty goonholes full with your fingers and fake cocks. Keep pace with me. Fuck yourselves exactly like I’m fucking this big, fat cock into my fat pussy.”

Chaeyoung yelped in pleasure and let out husky moans one after another, brutalising her cunt with the dildo below. She slapped her firm ass against the floor with every drop, rolled her hips in filthy clockwise circles, stirring the thick toy inside her until creamy arousal began coating the shaft and dripping down her thighs.

Far away in bedrooms and dark living rooms, her viewers obeyed. Hard cocks in hand pussies leaking copiously, pumped furiously in time with her bounces. Wet pussies were stretched and rubbed raw as women whimpered and gasped along with her, plunging their own toys deep into their greedy lips.

“Fuck yourselves harder, you little pumpsluts,” Chaeyoung cried, bouncing faster. The entire room echoed with sloppy squelches and thundering claps, heavy flesh slapping against the floor that mixed with her own shameless moans. She was writhing from the undulating shocks that were coursing through her nerves. Her body secreted whatever juices it could, glazing both her insides and outsides with sweat, saliva and the sweet, sinful juices of sex.

She rode and ground like a cowgirl.

She fucked herself like an animal in heat.

She fell backwards, leaning back onto her hands. She lifted and dropped her hips, snapping them up and down as she fucked her front walls mercilessly. Her cunt ate the fat head and thick sausage with sin, swallowing it continuously as the tip punched her deepest parts, forming visible bulges in her lower belly with very thrust.

“Holy shit, it’s so fucking big,” Chaeyoung mewled, pressing a hand to her stomach so the viewers could see the disgusting outline. But it was just an excuse for her to press the nerves onto the smashing cock for more pleasure. “Look at how deep your cocks are hitting my insides—pump those hand pussies harder! Faster!”

At the peak of a gut distending drop, her pussy clenched too hard and the dildo was squeezed out with a wet schlorp, followed by the expulsion of a powerful spurt of hot girl cum that splashed across the floor. Her inner thighs were drenched with shiny stains of her arousal, muscles twitching violently.

“M-more…”

Still trembling, Chaeyoung bent to the side and took a thicker dildo, slamming the suction cup firmly onto the ground in front of her. With another lift and sink, she impaled herself onto the glazed first toy again, wrapping it with her tight confines. She leaned forward and looked and the camera, lowering her mouth onto the other dildo’s tip. Hips still twerking and bouncing on the other silicone, she gave a lustful stare before pushing her own head down.

She swallowed it all.

Plump lips stretched wide, she allowed the plastic cock to invade her mouth. If there was one thing anyone knew about Chaeyoung, it was that her dictionary did not house the word ‘gentle’. She forced the entire length past her lips, allowing it to penetrate and breach her throat entirely as her pussy below kept devouring.

She treated her own body like the juiciest fruit, squeezing herself onto the two hard cocks below, pressing out whatever hot slick and goo stored inside of her. Slimy throat slop was crushed out from her throat, flowing down the dildo in a viscous goop as she fucked her throat raw. It was natural to her. She throat-fucked her mouth relentlessly like it was her daily routine, communicating to her viewers in glugs and gags that needed no explanation or translation. Her inner walls fluttered and clenched greedily around the thick dildo, pushing more of her endless creamy arousal and squirt out around the other dildo. The floor beneath her became a mess of sex slime, and it was paramount that it needed clearing quick, or her juices would seep and stain the un-waterproofed floor.

Barely regaining clarity, she pulled off both cocks with wet ploks, making an half-assed attempt like a depraved animal to lick and drink as much of her own mess as she could. She used her hands to wipe off any leftover slime, spreading it across her body, before making way to the pussy fucked dildo and did the same. Then she was right back at it — riding, sucking, gooning without mercy as if her life depended on it.

“Wook ack mwe,” she garbled.

She had no idea how many times she had cum, or if she had cum at all. Time blurred into a hazy, cock-drunk fog that clouded her mind. She was soaked and messy, lost in that perfect headspace where nothing existed except the stretching of both her holes, and the need to chase the impending building pressure threatening to tear her sanity apart.

Chaeyoung’s free hand reached for her swollen clit and rubbed it vigorously, all while impaling herself on both toys. The sloshing sounds from her cunt grew louder and wetter, matching the passionate explosion of saliva from her gagging throat. Her eyes rolled into the whites as fresh slick squirted out around her toy continuously.

“I’m so fucking close…” Chaeyoung gasped, pulling her mouth off the dildo momentarily for a breather that was unnecessary. “Fuck yourselves harder, my viewers… cum together with me!”

She sat up and leaned backwards, giving the camera the perfect view of her soaked, gaped snatch sliding up and down the thick shaft with ease. Fingers on her swollen clit, she rubbed vigorously with rapid, sloppy strokes, mixing in sharp slaps that made her yelp as her pussy began quivering uncontrollably.

Splosh. Squish. Squelch.

Her ass clapped and slapped the drenched floor filled with a growing, sticky puddle, the intensity reaching the highest peak.

She exploded.

Chaeyoung came with a guttural cry, her pussy clenching violently around the dildo as powerful waves of pleasure tore through her. Clear squirt sprayed in messy pulses around her toy as the orgasm ripped through her. Her legs shook wildly and her toes curled while the pleasure brought her to the highest point, before it ebbed into a slow constant hum. Her hands collapsed unto itself and her body fell limp, the dildo slipping out of her. It was coated in thick strands of her cream, standing tall and proud that at the destruction of her pussy.

Chaeyoung covered her eyes with her forearm and gasped in pleasure. Her chest was flushed red from the euphoric bliss, but her body was still hot with need. She picked herself up and crawled shakily towards the camera, smiling sultrily. She looked up at the computer on the table above, staring at the comments that was coming in without pause. Hundreds of viewers describing their own explosive orgasms.

But that was not the point.

She wanted more. She needed more. The night was still young after all.

“How about round two?” Chaeyoung purred huskily. She stood with her shaky legs and walked forward, pressing her dripping, drooling cunt right against the camera lens. She showed how much more she needed for the world to see, the glass fogging from the hot breath of her core.

Eyes glued to her pussy, their softened cocks hardened and wrecked pussies salivated as Chaeyoung slid her fingers in. She gave a few small pumps, curling her fingers inside, scooping out the wet juices that was still leaking incessantly. Her body shivered as she pulled them out, resting the tip of her fingers on her swollen folds before she spread them apart to expose the pink, creamy mess within.

“Let’s get pumping again, my pumpsluts~”

The stream dragged throughout the night. By the time it neared dawn, Chaeyoung had lost count of how many times she had came. Many viewers had already left, balls milked empty and throats ravaged, cocks tenderised and pussies sore.

It was the same for Chaeyoung, but her libido didn’t wane. In fact, it surged. Usually, she would have stopped and ended the stream by now, but since tomorrow, or today (it was already the next day) was her off day, she made the decision to indulge further.

“Are you gooners still with me?” she cooed, her eyes hazy with lust and exhaustion, but she was still on all fours, fucking herself onto the dildo mounted on the wall. “You guys are my gooning elites, so I have a special surprise for you.”

She pulled herself off the dildo, revelling in the pleasure as she let the veined length drag deliciously out of her pussy. Hole unfilled, juices spilled out freely from within. She moved aside and showed the mess on the wall, the damp stains painted by her Picasso Pussy.

“I’ll be back in five, so get yourself hydrated for more gooning,” Chaeyoung purred, blowing her remaining viewers a flying kiss.

She toggled the stream to standby mode and left for the kitchen to get a drink. After all, she had been expelling water without stop for close to seven hours.

When the stream turned back on, the chat went feral.

bootalooka: HOLY FUCK

goonettequeen: she actually built a fucking gooning machine

webbedavianbird: such a cutie slut omg

Chaeyoung was facing the camera sideways, sitting on a DIY contraption of sorts. She was still dressed in her bikini, but that wasn’t the point. It was her set up. Her hands were bound above to the horizontal pole of a makeshift standalone clothes rack, wrists cuffed tight. A pair of egg vibrators were tied in clear tape around her raised pits, humming incessantly as her arms writhed with no escape.

“Don’t worry, they’re timed cuffs,” Chaeyoung muffled. She was sitting on a chair that had a hole carved through the centre of the seat, and there were two dildo machines pumping in and out of both her ass and pussy. Tied to her groin was a Hitachi magic wand, buzzing ceaselessly against her sopping clit as it aimed to milk her dry. A baby bathing tub sat underneath the chair, collecting every single drop of her wet arousal.

A pretty standard set up for certain kinks, until the viewers took in the sight of her face.

Her mouth was stretched wide open with a spider gag, her head pushed in and out of a ribbed dildo that was mounted on a full length mirror placed in front of her. And to note, she was not the one doing the pumping, it was.

Her head was strapped to a pistoning machine, the dildo removed in place for her head. The hydraulics of the machine worked without stop, thrusting her throat onto the dildo as it made her into its personal cock-loving whore.

Chaeyoung couldn’t even breathe normally, much less speak with the spider gag stretching her mouth wide open, but her teary eyes still sparkled with deep satisfaction as the machines worked her body without mercy.

The two dildo machines beneath her slammed rhythmically into her holes, pistoning into her creamy pussy and stretched asshole alternatingly. Every upward thrust made her body jolt, her soaked bikini top clinging uselessly to her sweat-drenched tits. And it wasn’t that she didn’t want to do anything to stop it. In fact, apart from the cuffs restraining her wrists and her throat ravaged by the dildo-piston machine combo, there was nothing stopping her from getting out of her so called predicament.

She clenched her abs and forced her body down onto the incoming impalements, keeping in place as she allowed them to rearrange her guts and intestines as the humming wand at maximum intensity kept her lucid mind more awake than awake. The vibrators fastened to the soft skin of her underarms added a maddening, tickling vibration that made her bound arms twitch helplessly above her head.

Her nerves were overstimulated beyond the feeling of good.

It was Nirvana.

Thrust. Thrust. Thrust.

The machine fucked her throat with precision, driving the cock past her stretched lips and deep into her gullet again and again. Thick ropes of throat slime and spittle poured from her mouth that was willingly forced open, flowing down her chin and onto her chest in messy, glistening strands.

Her entire face was a work of messy, pretty art that could only be appreciated by her own eyes as she looked into the mirror.

“glk—glk—glk—glk—”

The wet, choking sounds smashed out from her voice box were constant, interrupted only by desperate, muffle moans that vibrated around the invading dildo, or goopy snot that exploded from her nostrils. Her eyes rolled back in pleasure as tears streamed without stop, her mascara already smeared into black streaks that joined the crimson smudges of her red lipstick. Both black and red mixed together with the throat slime that the dildo was stirring from within her cock pot, otherwise known as her throat.

Another orgasm ripped through her. Her pussy and ass crushed spasming-ly around the floppy lengths violating her insides, squirting hard into the baby bathtub below. The warm fluid splashed noisily into the growing tub of her own juices, and the Hitachi never stopped, forcing and extending her climax longer and harder until her whole body shook in the restraints.

She looked completely ruined.

The bathtub was already half full, and her three holes were still getting fucked. Orgasms came one after another, converting her into a shower tap that wasn’t turned off. She screamed in ecstatical pleasure, but it simply came out as a raw, gagging gurgle around the dildo smashing her throat. Drool cascaded down her body as the machine fucked her head like a fleshlight.

She looked at the reflection in the mirror, and the sight only served to make her wetter.

Her pussy made loud, sloppy squelching sounds with every brutal thrust, her creamy arousal and juices raining into the bathtub. Peak after peak came with no escape, and she came harder and harder. Even as she came, Chaeyoung kept eye contact with her own gaze in the reflection the best she could, saying everything her gagged, glugged, gargled, garbled, glking mouth couldn’t.

Look at me. This is what I look like. This is what I want. This is what I need.

Her entire body convulsed, thighs trembling, toes curling as powerful jets of squirt erupted around the pistoning dildos in her holes. The bathtub filled with the warm, cloudy mixture of her juices, sloshing around her feet and calves.

Her entire body was transformed into a dripping cocksleeve.

Minutes blurred. Chaeyoung had completely lost herself into the gooning hell, every hole stretched and used, her body screaming under the undulating assault.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity of endless pleasure, a soft click echoed through the room.

The timed cuffs released.

Chaeyoung’s arms dropped heavily from the horizontal pole. The straps tied to her head had long loosened, and the only thing keeping the dildo in her mouth was the thrusting pad that pushed her head forward over and over again. With the sudden freedom, her body slumped off the chair to the side and she collapsed onto the floor, limp and trembling.

She weakly reached for the controllers and turned everything off. One by one, the pistoning lulled to a stop. The buzzing Hitachi powered down. The egg vibrators went silent.

Crawling to her set up, she grabbed on to the chair and flipped it out of the way, before climbing into the baby bathtub. For a long moment she just sat there, chest heaving, body twitching with aftershocks, staring hazily at the camera.

Surrounded by the warm, slippery pool of her own cum, squirt and saliva, she reached for the still-warm Hitachi wand. She turned it on back on high and pressed the vibrating head on her wrecked clit.

“Mmmph… one more…” she rasped, hoarse from the hours of throat-fucking. She leaned back against the edge of the tub, legs spread wide as they hung out from the knee onwards. Her pussy hovered between the precipice of liquid and air while she rubbed the powerful wand in slow, messy circles. The vibration rippled both her body and the sea of sex juices, and she occasionally dipped it lower to tease her gaped and creamy hole.

Her free hand kneaded her tits, tugging and pinching hard at the sore nipples through her bikini as the Hitachi buzzed relentlessly against her clit.

It didn’t take long.

A long raspy moan escaped her brutalised throat as the final orgasm crashed through her. She pressed the wand harder against her clit, hips jerking and splashing against the cum-filled tub as she made the final contribution. Fresh squirt sprayed out and mixed with the existing mess as she came hard one last time, her thighs quivering uncontrollably.

When her orgasm faded, she slumped back into the mini sea, letting her own sticky arousal embrace her. She turned the streamed off without bidding goodbye to her viewers. A soft, contented smile graced her swollen lips as she drifted off to sleep.

~~~

Her eyes peeled open. The air-conditioning was still switched on as it tried its best to cool down the summer heat that was emanating through the thin walls. The sun was already up in its highest position and so was her hunger and thirst.

Chaeyoung looked at the state of her room.

Mess wasn’t the right word for it. Perhaps it was blissful mess. She smiled and climbed out of the baby bathtub, reaching for the towel by the side that was similarly sticky from the same concoction she had been soaking in after falling asleep.

She wrapped herself around herself and walked to the shower, proceeding to clean herself up.

When she came out of the shower, she started to clear her room in silence. Windows opened wide and fans opened on full blast, she tried to liberate her room of the musky smell of sex. The contents of the bathtub were emptied and flushed down the toilet bowl. She wiped down her floor of the mess and dumped everything into the washing machine, before dismantling everything from her set up.

She folded the tripod. The lights went back into their box. Chair flipped back into place, she sat down and took a brief rest on it, reminiscing about the session last night with a satisfied smile, before stowing that too in her mini storage closet. The room became a bedroom again.

“Gosh, that was tiring,” Chaeyoung complained, wiping the newly produced sweat off her forehead. She walked to her refrigerator and prepared a simple brunch, and soon she was sitting on the floor by her bedside, munching on a bowl of granola yoghurt bowl with some muscat grapes and diced honeydews.

She looked at the time. Five minutes to 2 p.m. It was time to go. She went to take another quick shower to get rid of whatever dirt was left from cleaning up, before changing into a casual skin hugging top and jeans.

Windows closed and appliances turned off, she locked the door behind her with the turn of her key and left. Within a few minutes, she was sitting comfortably on a seat in an almost empty train. It was a Monday after all, and most people were either still slaving away at work, or cramming books in schools.

She looked at the remaining people with narrowed eyes. Stupid fucktards who were staring at her again. Two men blatantly pointed at her, mumbling to each other with hushed voices. One woman in her twenties recognised her and blushed. A middle aged woman gave her a judgemental frown and took out her phone, pretending to act as if she were far sighted, but she gave herself away as a flash and click escaped from the camera of her phone.

Chaeyoung gave her a death stare and she turned away embarrassingly, before rushing off the train at the next stop.

“Maybe I should have taken the cab instead,” Chaeyoung grumbled to herself under her breath. She looked up at the terminal near to the train’s ceiling and counted the number of stops. About an hour more to go.

Her phone buzzed.

Another lie.

She closed her eyes and transited into a state of half-sleep, robbing herself of the awareness of more looks at her.

Her stop arrived sooner than later and she alighted. She climbed up the stairs and made her way to the gantry, tapping her card on it to release herself from the prison of judgemental people she would probably never meet again.

She looked at the bus stop on the right.

She turned to the left.

A twenty minutes walk. She could do it. She could tolerate heat. Anything to escape more looks.

She made her way up and down small hills with her trusty miniature ‘parasol’, walking towards her destination. When she had finally arrived, she entered the apartment building and made her way into the elevator, heading up to the eleventh floor. Three units too the right after exiting the lift, she keyed the passcode into the digital door look and pressed down onto the handle.

Click.

She entered the house.

Turned into the master bedroom.

“Chaeng chaeng!”

She looked at the woman laying on the homecare bed. She was strapped to multiple wires connected to a beeping machine that measured her heart rate.

“Mom,” Chaeyoung said flatly.

“I’ve been waiting for—”

She burst into a fit of coughs. A nurse to her side quickly gave her some water and calmed her down, telling her not to speak.

Her mother waved the nurse off and typed something on the phone in her hands, before the nurse excused herself and left the room. Her mother raised her weak hands and gestured to the chair beside her.

Chaeyoung walked forward and shifted the chair slightly further away from her mother, before taking a seat.

She looked at her. Her hair was non-existent, face was plagued with wrinkles, and her body looked like it could crumble any moment. She broke out into coughing fits every now and then as they stared at each other in silence.

Then her mother started typing.

Have you eaten?

Chaeyoung nodded.

How long will you be here today?

“I’m leaving soon.”

I miss you, chaeng chaeng.

She simply looked at her.

Her mother just laid there and looked at her, her smile never leaving her face. She looked at her daughter’s beautiful self, thinking of things that Chaeyoung had no idea of what was in her mind.

What a fake look.

Chaeyoung couldn’t stand it anymore. She quietly stood up and shifted the chair back into place and gave a small bow to her mother.

“I’m leaving.”

Her mother’s smile remained. She took her phone and typed something on it, showing the screen to Chaeyoung.

Will you coming again next Monday?

“I will.”

Chaeyoung turned and walked out of the room.

“Chaeng chaeng—cough cough—”

Chaeyoung stopped in her steps by the door, looking back at her mother.

“cough—I love you—cough—”

Chaeyoung gave her mother one last look and walked out, calling for the nurse back into the room before leaving her mother’s house.

~~~

Chaeyoung hung up the call.

She stared at the lights blurring into streaks outside the glass. Doors opened and closed. Opened and closed. Opened again and closed again.

She looked up and realised she missed her stop.

She kept her phone and alighted the train, crossing over to the opposite side, boarding the next one back to her mother’s house.

~~~

People came and went, offering condolences to the picture placed before her mother’s corpse that was housed in a half opened coffin.

Chaeyoung sat by the side in white clothes, hair tied up into a bun. People approached her to offer condolence money, slotting the cash or envelopes into the box after placing white chrysanthemums beside her mother’s photograph.

Most looked at her.

“That’s the daughter.”

“I heard…”

“Still doing those streams?”

“Poor mother.”

“Such a shame.”

Their voices never rose above whispers, but it was just enough to make their point.

Chaeyoung kept her gaze fixed on the photograph, looking at her mother. She looked younger there. Hair that was still there neatly tied behind her head. Eyes curved into gentle crescents.

The same smile.

Always that same damned smile.

She wondered what that smile meant.

She wondered if her mother smiled to everyone like that.

Or whether her mother simply smiled that easily.

One by one, guests approached the altar, offering the same incense, bow, and cast their judgemental look upon her shameful self.

She didn’t smile like her mother, nor did she cry for her mother. She simply sat there and wondered, wondering things that would most probably never be answered anymore.

Taken by that damned throat cancer.

Time passed into the late evening.

Visitors shrank in number, reducing to maybe one or two every hour. Someone came in, offering a stick of incense and a bow of condolence. They walked towards her and slotted an envelope into the condolence box.

Chaeyoung waited for another judgemental whisper.

They stood there silently, then moved to sit beside her. Not close enough to invade her space. Not far enough to feel distant.

“… Long time.”

She turned and casted her gaze at them.

It was you.

You weren’t dressed in black. Just a plain white shirt with a pair of jeans, sleeves rolled up to your elbows because of the summer heat.

“You came,” Chaeyoung said.

“I knew your mom.”

“Of course you did. You’re my friend.”

“How are you doing?”

Chaeyoung looked at you, surprised.

“…I’m fine? I guess. Alive. Surviving.”

“That’s great.”

“Have you eaten?” you ask.

She looked at you, questioning the questions you asked.

“Small bites here and there,” Chaeyoung mumbled. “I can’t afford to die of hunger when I’m the last in my family’s line.”

Footsteps approached. An older woman stopped beside Chaeyoung. She slotted a 5000 won bill into the box and stared at Chaeyoung with slitted eyes.

“I don’t know whether to say this…”

“Just say it already, I’ve heard enough of them throughout the day anyway.”

The old woman hesitated at her aggression, but spoke her mind anyway.

“Are you still doing those… videos?”

Chaeyoung looked away, staring at her mother’s photo.

The woman continued speaking.

“Your poor mother must have died bec—”

“Did you put in a leave of absence?” you cut in.

“Excuse me? Why are you interr—”

“I’m sure there should be many people who would be available to cover you, right?”

You looked at Chaeyoung and smiled.

“…Yeah.”

Chaeyoung frowned at you.

“I am on compassionate leave for the next few days.”

“How about the breakwater at the south beach? I heard that it’s under repair.”

“It is.”

“Maybe that’s why they could cover you, since that area is closed off from the public.”

“Maybe.”

The elderly woman lingered for a moment, before finally catching wind that she was not welcomed. Eventually she excused herself.

“You changed the subject,” Chaeyoung said.

“I didn’t. That wasn’t what I was interested in.”

“And you’re not interested in what… videos I did?”

“Maybe? But you’d tell me if you wanted to.”

Chaeyoung looked at you for a long time.

“You’re weird.”

“Maybe.”

A tiny breath escaped her nose.

It wasn’t a laugh. But close enough.

Soon the funeral came to an end. Things were tore down, and she gave her mother’s picture one last bow. The smile didn’t change. It never would. It’s a picture after all.

“Bye, Mom.”

She turned and walked away.

~~~

Nights passed since the funeral, and you spent every one of them with Chaeyoung, just sitting beside her as she sipped on alcohol in the beachside bar.

“Why are you here again?”

“Why not?” you ask.

“Don’t you know what I do?”

“You told me yesterday, so of course I do.”

“I hate you,” she said.

“Then go and sit somewhere else.”

She glared at you with dagger eyes, hoping to scare you away, but you just sat there nonchalantly, drinking on your cup of apple juice.

“Why are you even at a bar when you drink fruit juice everyday?”

You looked at her and chuckled.

“Aren’t you also drinking fruit juice?”

She pointed to her glass.

“This? This is a freaking fruit cocktail. Just because it has fruit in it, it doesn’t make it a fruit juice. It has alcohol. You know alcohol? The thing that makes a bar a bar.”

“Sure,” you scrunched your nose and blepped. “God forbid me from drinking whatever the bar sells.”

“You’re impossible,” Chaeyoung cursed, rolling her eyes.

You sat there in silence, just appreciating the ambience of the bar, humming to the soft beats of the playful summer track sounding overhead. The juice does little to cool you down from the heat, but at least the absence of the sun’s rays in the evening helped out.

“Say…”

Chaeyoung stirred her cocktail with the straw, before letting it fall limp onto thr glass’s edge.

You look at her.

“I streamed again last night.”

“I know,” you replied indifferently.

“And I’m going to stream again tonight.”

“Sure.”

“Why aren’t you judging me?” Chaeyoung said, raising her voice slightly.

“Why should I?”

She raised her hand and pointed to everyone else in the bar minding their own business.

“Everybody else is!”

“So?”

She stared at you with silence.

“You—”

“Say, you want a kebab? There’s a nice store down the street.”

Chaeyoung’s face turned red and she lashed at you with anger.

“You’re fucking ridiculous!”

She stood up and stormed off, probably leaving for home.

~~~

“Hey.”

You tapped on her shoulder and slid into the seat beside her.

“Hey,” she replied softly.

You ordered your drink and sat there in silence, waiting for her to say something.

“I’m sorry about yesterday. I just had a lot on my mind, and—”

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Apology accepted.”

“Can you not be such an easy going person?”

“Why not?” you asked.

“Because it irritates me!”

“Then if I ask you to stop asking me to judge you?”

“No? That’s totally different,” Chaeyoung argued.

“You do know that what I’m requesting is on the same level as what you ask of me, but why is you demanding me to stop being easy going okay and my request to be different?”

“I seriously hate you.”

You looked at her and smiled.

“Come on, both you and I know that’s not the case.”

She rolled her eyes and huffed.

“I streamed last night,” Chaeyoung muttered.

“Okay.”

“I’m probably going to keep streaming.”

“Okay.”

“It makes me happy.”

“That’s great.”

She gave you and incredulous look and stood up, raising her hand up high, as if preparing to smack you on the head. But all you felt was a tug on the hem of your shirt.

You looked at her

“Hey. Go on a walk with me?”

“Sure.”

You followed her out of the bar, heading towards the beach that was illuminated by the moonlit sky. She walked forward, half a step quicker than yours, then faster and quicker until the gap between you both widened.

She was soon running forward, the excess of her white top fluttering behind her, trying its best to catch up.

You sauntered slowly, watching her sprint towards a large rock, before climbing on and sitting on its top. A few minutes later, you’re up top beside her, watching her stare into the reflection on the moon that was shimmering off the horizon of the sea.

“You’re slow.”

“You’re fast,” you shot back.

“You’re irritating.”

“Okay,” you gave another flat answer.

She breathed in deeply, inhaling the night’s sea breeze before letting her frustrations out.

“I wanna read something. Would you stay by my side while I read?”

“Okay.”

Chaeyoung smiled with gratitude and nodded with a small thanks. She reached into her bag and took out a stack of envelopes, each one numbered with a date. It was tied in batches of four, each stack with a small rubber band that encircled their width.

She untied the topmost stack and took the first letter. On it was the date that she last met her mother. She carefully tore open the envelope and took the piece of postcard out from within. On the top side was a picture of her favourite cherries.

A small smile escaped her lips.

She flipped the card around and looked at the writing on it.

You looked at her as she opened envelope after envelope. Every single one contained a letter written to her every week, some contained an extra picture of her that her mother had taken without her knowledge. Childhood photos, graduation photos, photos of her at her new job, screenshot photos of her smiling before she started her streams, social media selfies of her after her streams ended.

Every single one of them had her smiling.

She touched her face on every single one.

She didn’t know she could smile that wide. She knew she was the happiest when she streamed. But she didn’t know that there were other moments where she truly felt happy as well.

Her mother was always looking at her.

She turned to you and muttered.

“...Do you know what’s strange?”

“What?”

“I spent so much time wondering who was looking at me...”

She looked down at the letters.

“...I never looked back.”

“...Not at her.”

“...Not even at myself.”

She opened the next letter. In it was what her mother had written to her when she gave her the pay she got from her first stream.

There wasn’t even any mention of her streaming. Nor was there anything about the money she gave her. It was just her mother who was constantly looking at her.

She forgot how to look.

And in the midst of shunning other people’s gazes, she had forgotten to look at the ones who cared the most for her. Most importantly, she stopped looking at herself.

“She didn’t hate me.”

Chaeyoung said, tears streaming down her face. She took in a sobbing breath and tried to stop crying, but everything came out harder.

“I didn’t even save her number out of unfounded spite…”

“So what are you going to do now?” you said.

She looked at the little girl who was still building sandcastles with her parents in the dark. An old man walking alone, strolling on the beach. Two teenagers arguing in a heated exchange.

She looked at you who was looking at her.

She’s finally...

Looking.

“Let’s go,” she said.

You hopped down the rock.

“Ready?”

She smiled and wiped her tears, keeping all the pictures and letters back into her bag. She hopped down the rock and stood beside you, looking out into the deep, blue sea.

A personal rule of thumb; a code, if you will: keep the alcohol consumption to a minimum, two to three drinks at best. 

It’s been roughly over two and a half hours since you showed up and the gathering began, and the idea of going back to the bar for a fourth or fifth or sixth was becoming highly likely. Something easy to down - definitely not a Whiskey, but you’d wish - although there’s hardly a complaint with a draft beer. 

In a sober blessing, there’s a haven with an open bar present at university occasions. Granted, the Kim-Park estate would’ve splurged a little more in owning the whole place but everyone does like to indulge their drinks from time to time. 

Someone smacks your arm from behind, breaking the trance. “Hey- you’re not blanking out on me, are you?” Roh Yunah called your name a couple times but you obviously misheard; you missed the conversation that was clearly no interest in. Hence the circle of eyes are all zeroed in on you, eight pairs a piece. 

Yunah arches her brows with a smile, but there’s a forced aspect within her. Always trying to push the right buttons as your senior; plus knowing when and what to say in lightening the mood. Her veneers may feel casual, but it’s unnaturally terrifying. 

“Sorry,” you say, apologetic with the lift of the glass. “It’s been a long day for me, well- for all of us.” You’re lucky enough to have a few smiles returned soon after. One person sips into their red wine. 

“He means well,” Yunah says on your behalf, “This one is a little timid in stepping out of his comfort zone.” A turn to the group and they all laugh, a miracle action, but maybe an in-joke that you’re secluded from. She sighs, nodding somberly. “Moka loved attending these galas. Though, I can only say so much about missing her.” 

Yunah mentions it painfully slow; the tone eerie like trying to break the news to a broken child. 

Everyone around you has a sympathetic shine in their eyes, humming and shaking their heads. You can’t hold yourself back in looking at each individual, feel the heartbeat in your chest thrum louder, pounding your ears. Like hearing your name would send you ages back, turns the pit in your stomach into a full on black hole. 

None of these people have a single idea about Moka. 

You swallow the anger down; Moka despised these events, and you want to shove Yunah to a wall making her pay. 

But, you’ll take it with as much light as you can, force a smile into the next topic. The pain is still fresh despite being a little over a year - the wound still fresh at the mere mention of her name. It seeps, then stings, pooling blood over and over and over. Some days the pain is unbearable, a constant reminder of her presence enough to send the mind reeling; on other occasions, you’d wish she were still here and on separate paths. 

You think to yourself: one more drink wouldn’t hurt. 

It takes most of your body to sift through the crowd surrounding the bar; the heat too suffocating and the press of people enough to roll your eyes at the masks being worn currently. A quartet of guys block your pathing, oblivious. Drinking away laughs which should make you more pissed off. You try to make way with an arm, but get shoved from behind on accident. 

Unfortunately, the man swivels around on edge. These kinds of people are the opposite of your liking: in preen-upped suits and with wavy combovers. The tie is neat around his neck and there’s an obvious vein popping out meaning: definitely pissed off. A few men also notice the incident - some still laughing at another joke that’s clearly unrelated. 

Grad students and their prestige, on the bankroll of their parents and got a sizable trust fund in their backpocket to be set for life without the worries of student debt. Studying in degrees that probably won’t matter to them since it’ll be a nice mark of pride hung on the wall twenty to thirty years from now. 

He curses you out in front of his so-called friends. You scoff at that. 

“Just trying to pass through,” you’re saying, hand up in defense and clearly in the wrong. Had it been you from a year prior, a fist would probably be thrown already. Honestly, the glass in your hand needs another refill. 

The guy just mocks you and sizes up to your front. It’s awfully pathetic how people have to resort to actions like these. In turn, he bumps to a girl behind him, knocking out her drink with glass shattering to the floor. 

More heads look over and the guy is getting pulled by his colleagues. Servers rush in to fix the mess, picking up the shards and wiping the spilled wine. A cue for you to go on your way, getting another glass of whiskey from the bar. 

The short girl with fine, embered auburn hair is weaving through the crowd as well, alone. 

Like a lonely stick flowing down a winding stream. 

–

Out on the terrace; fresh air, granted once the locks click in place and you’re staring out to the distance with the wind passing through your ears. 

It’s quiet, and the feel of winter is still apparent in February. Most of the noise inside has been muffled into the glass, looking below from the balcony with your head to your hands. That is- until there’s a gentle clack of heels behind. 

It’s the same girl from earlier, in all its whiskey brown shade. Besides only seeing her back profile, the presentation is well worth the wait, and she’s beautiful - light pools of amber in her eyes and with a defined arc to her ears. Part of her hair is tied neatly but resting neatly along her shoulders. Her dress is also another: high-collared and revealing at the collar and waist - yet focused on a stain over her thigh. 

You should’ve kept your body against the concrete railing, but you move; met with knitted brows from the woman. 

“Oh- I thought I was-” she stutters, taken aback. “If you’ll excuse me,” clutching the dress a lot tighter in her hand, almost concealing. 

“No, I’m just here,” you say; a hand up in respect. “I was about to be on my way back inside.” 

She glances over rather than giving a response, keeping her attention to her dress. You’re taking a real long look at her before common sense sets in and finally decide to look away. 

Right before you were about to step away, a sigh slips out of her lips; there isn’t any offense to it, at all. 

“Look- would you mind if I can try to help?” You ask, walking over as she gazes up again. Clearly, she’s confused about what’s happening at the moment. 

“I appreciate it, but thank you. Really.” Her voice seems dismissive, but still bearing the casualness of it. Adding an uneasy chill down your spine. 

“To be clear, I was the one at fault,” you say. “A mistake trying to get by the poor lad.” She locks eyes with you again and cocks her head. You’re not showing it, but the move forces your heart to palpitate; in the way she studies you, sending spikes to your stomach. With a deadpan like that there’s a necessity of the silence she’d be happy to fulfill. 

“Most of the guys you taught way back then were usually like that, flying elbows and everything if they’re hit,” she tells you, and it’s a definite ‘oh shit’ moment that sobers you up.

It starts to click in your head piece by piece: “Wait, have we-” 

The lovely woman nods, drawing a light smirk. “I can see the gears turning in your head, sir.” 

“Well if you’re playing the stranger card so casually without ever mentioning my name, but that ‘sir’ wouldn’t be thrown around if it didn’t carry some substance of status, ma’am?” You say, smirking. She giggles at that. 

In a stupid move, you mention your name again; hand out in hope of her reaching for it. 

“I know who you are,” she replies, huffing a laugh out her nose, “Professor.” Dipping her head and flicking her fingers on her dress. Palm to palm, there’s a gentle sturdiness to it, all while being soft. You get caught spacing out - imagining how they’ll look wrapped around your- 

“I’m- I’m sorry. I don’t follow?” 

“You may not remember me, but I’m Park Minju. I had you for a class about five years ago.” Her words are precise, punctual. With a hint of elegance you can’t really seem to capture. 

Appearance-wise, it doesn’t add up. If anything, you’re thinking back to the prior calling of secondary school around that time. Plausible. Yet she’s reasonably old enough. 

“A class, yes. Maybe two. But here I am being subjected to a minor existential crisis thanks to you,” you tell her, sheepish. 

Minju chuckles; there’s that same palpitation like before. You want to have that same laugh ring your ears more and more. See that sweet grin with those beautifully arched cheekbones and ears. 

“If you want to get more- analytical, I suppose. Your lessons about certain philosophical topics were very, what’s the word? Enamoring.” 

Here's the answer. You were thinking close around that time and hoping the math was correct. Now, you’re thinking of throwing yourself off the balcony and forget about any form of hope with this girl: 

“Don’t get me wrong, I was invested in that curriculum,” you laugh, bracing a hand on the sculpted railing. “What killed it for me was the fact that most of the kids’ papers I was reviewing all had a common complaint of how much bullshit I was teaching was hidden between the lines. Can’t blame them, of course. Though it did hurt for a bit.” 

“Hmm, I think it looked like it was one of those other former students earlier tonight,” she looks at the windows inside. “Who knows, maybe they saw your face and threw a fit at the fact that you were still in their life in a different path now.” 

You wince. “Again, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to-” 

“You should be,” Minju returns. 

Oh she knows how to rub the crevices in your brain. 

Following a clicked tongue: “What makes you say that?” 

Minju hums; quirks a smile soon after. You nick your head before huffing a laugh, before the ice breaks even more and you’re both laughing. She meets your eyes through her pretty, dark lashes; your heart is performing backflips at this point. 

You can’t get around the fact how she’s so easy on the eyes, that refined coy in the tone of her voice. It’s getting all the plots twisted in your head, and the proximity diminishes between the two of you.

All the more reason to rub your neck awkwardly; Minju looks the other way and clears her throat. 

“For one, you look dashing in that dress. It’s a shame that it got a little soaked,” you say. Ghosting a hand over the opening at her waist, just above the stain. Her arm is quick to hover yours, riddled with goosebumps. It’s cold (obviously), much to the point where the outlines of Minju’s nipples are peaking through the dress; squinting won’t help your case but you’re blinking. 

You sharply inhale, file the picture away from your head. 

In a natural instinct, you strip your blazer off and and straighten it out. “I realize it’s practically below freezing here,” you’re telling her, tongue-ticked. The fit rests on her narrow shoulders and you’re taking a decent step back. Watching her face look confused, pulling her lips inward and accepting the gesture. Oversized was the inevitable conclusion, but at least the warmth was a plus. 

“I didn’t mind, but-” Minju huffs, burying her mouth into the collar. You insist, and she accepts it, giving thanks. 

The gust of wind blows a little more forcefully for a moment, pricking into the skin. You’ve definitely hit your quota for drinks - which equates to being slightly tipsy; drunk, perhaps, or delusional; shit, you’re not even sure yourself. 

“Are you also here for family responsibilities, Miss Park? Or are you actually going to get some benefit in the classes you’re basically going for free?” You ask her. While it’s out of curiosity; you keep wanting to talk to her. The urge to know more grows by the second. 

Minju smirks and nods. “There’s a direction for me.” 

Ah, you acquiesce. She’s still an assignment you’re trying to grade. 

“Something tells me you’re residing in law,” you presume. 

“Actually-” she retorts with knitted brows, tongue to teeth, “-I’m more intrigued in the political science landscape.” 

“Really? I didn’t think my lesson plan back then had too much of a punch in the learning experience.” 

“Well it’s completely the opposite,” beams Minju, rolling her shoulders with pride. “If it weren’t that, I wouldn’t be talking about it with you.” 

“Most of the girls just gave me blank stares while the guys slept through most of the rambling I did,” you breezily say whilst shaking your head. 

“Talking too much was a minus, but there was a plus in other aspects,” she then says. 

“Like?” 

“A thorough outlook from someone that’s-” and her eyes are quick to level yours, with much more refined knowledge and with bare restraint in the attraction - enough to freeze you in place and think back to how she was giving the utmost attention sitting in your classroom, “-well, there’s no better word for it: persuasive.” 

Her voice is basically seeping at the corners, low and driven and all the signs toward dangerous. She’s not gonna stop; you should consider ending the conversation while you can. Though, you don’t and stomach the cluttered air riddled within your neck. 

“Well then,” you say. “I sure hope you’ve been up to par with your current works?” 

Minju bites her bottom lip; widens the opening of your jacket. “Articles, reading, theses, the whole nine yards.” 

“That's all you got? 

You’re seeing nothing but the dark hazel pooling her irises. 

Flaring your voice like that to an esteemed family member that isn’t Minju would probably get you fired, maybe. “Okay? What do you want to know?” 

“It’s an open ended question I don’t have the answer for.” 

She cocoons the blazer around her again, back to the concrete overlooking the estate. “The last thing I read while coming up with a case study was focused on a theory about specific decisions. Meaning how the factor of choice influences us, weighing those choices, even the impulsive ones on instinct. It’s everywhere, even on a much global scale, deliberating with other countries; the movement of products, weapons, transferring prisoners, any and every deal that’s under or hidden beneath the sun.” Minju looks at you with a hint of worry - much like the times she came during lunch break and rambled about the typical drama with her circle of friends and pressing topics that were flagged under the universal policy. 

“Go on,” you tell her. “We’re just up here alone.” 

“I”m conscious about what’s there to gain and lose, depending on the deal or the stake of it. Naturally, people hate to lose. There’s a basic rule left unspoken where it can be differentiated between cognitive thinking and instinct - and it’s seen in games and people with status or power, those who-” her mouth drops, cutting it off accidentally. 

“Interesting,” you say. 

“Besdies that, I think I’ve said too much already,” Minju replies, hiding her chin to the collar. 

You don’t think you’ve said enough. Everything about her is a losing game: from her intellect to her age, and millions of statuses above you to even stand a chance. Her theory is right, thinking about an instinct of wanting her that it’s irrational to think about anything else. 

“No, Minju,” you laugh, breathless, albeit impressed. “It’s amazing what you’ve done with the opportunities. I hope you tell me more down the line?” 

Minju’s eyes flare up, surprised. “Sir- I’m very flattered-

It’s impossible for you to discern whether her cheeks were already in a rosy blush from the cold or from what was said just now. Her cute button nose is also mirroring the same shade - gulping down the urge to kiss that spot. You stare at her bottom lip; she nods in agreement. You could kiss that, too. 

“I think I do get ahead of myself,” she then says, moving her head left and right to disregard the compliment. 

“Now who told you that?” You ask. 

Minju zones out, meets your gaze with a tilt. “Huh?” 

“If you think you’re getting ahead of yourself, then that belief is instilled from someone else,” you say, lips pressed with crossed arms. “Out of everyone, you’re the only one that’s talked about a topic with the most interest. Why let another person determine what you can or can not express; besides, they’re stupid.” 

Minju, again, shoots her eyes down to her toes, shielding her growing smirk. Suddenly, the space between you two is minimized, even when you try your best to keep the space open due to the cold, it’s definitely waking you up from the suffocating party indoors. You notice her hand skate across the concrete, resting on the balcony after a few twitches. 

There’s a literal pull happening here, slowly. Until the both of you are looking out to the vast garden shrouded in darkness ahead, shoulder to shoulder; that is, when Minju faces front and is within extreme closeness of your chest, burrowing like she belongs here, shedding away skin and letting the cold wash her over. Even when the cold is already unbearable, and even so- 

Past the thrums of your heartbeat ringing in your ears, you could hear Minju swallow. Sighing into your chest as if there was a hidden weight finally lifted after so long. 

You don’t stop here. In fact, you don’t even consider stopping yourself at all: leaning down with a slow drag of your eyes to meet hers, gazing down those pretty features. She glances when you treat a loose strand of her hair caught by the breeze, shelf it nicely past the cuff of her ear, grazing your fingernails down her neck. 

Minju tilts her head to open up the space, holding her breath from the sudden touch. 

Then there’s the fuck-up: she doesn’t want this, of course she doesn’t. You pull your hand from her shoulder, draft up the apology in your mind. 

“Wait. We can- just, not here.” She hushes, stepping back with a hand up, scanning through the doors because getting caught would be a shitload of trouble. The tone in her voice drastically switched from being easy and composed - to breathless and on edge. 

“Minju, look- I’m sorry-” you get out, because the wrong idea’s already been shown and there’s a small hope of being able to hide it. 

“No, I’m sorry. It’s not that- I’d just want-” she tries to reason it out, voice low and hesitant. She swallows the lump in her throat, breathes deep after. “We’d be better off away from people that know us, you know?” 

You have a hard time processing what’s happening - probably because most of the blood isn’t going to your head and rather someplace else where the head might be useful in; with your mouth dry and on a similar wavelength to Minju. You feel your pockets again and realize the metal ridges that are typically there are in the coat she’s wearing (and lending). 

“It’s dark, for one. But my car is parked in the lot behind the hall. I- I might’ve had a little too much to drink for another and- oh fuck-” you huff, shaking your head fervently. “Wait- sorry. Don’t you mean drinks? I’m afraid I’m not up to-” 

Minju stops you with a hand to your chest, laughing. 

“You’re not driving home, sir. That’s for sure. I mean if you had a room here at the hotel for the night?” 

You’ve been sucked back to your teens, desperate for a girl that hinders your brain capacity. The good thing is: you’re sober enough to drive the few blocks back to the hotel with the room a couple floors up and there’s also the option to take the woman and fuck her into the backseat of your car. 

It’s a definite psychiatric work up on your agenda. 

“Okay, okay. So you want to-” 

Minju grins, licking her teeth. “The number?” 

“325.” 

“325?” She repeats, eyes shimmering. “You head back there first. I’ll come in fifteen minutes.” 

She’s quick to give back your coat with turning heels, slipping effortlessly through the glass doors. You try to track her silhouette, but watch her fade into the crowd. With her light auburn hair as the fateful magnet you can’t escape from. 

–

Time seems to stretch for as long as it possibly could, dwindling your bits of hope for every second that comes to pass - waiting for someone who may not even matter to you. 

Yet the hints of her scent scattered on your coat, there would be enough confirmation that the whole thing was a measly dream. It’s all stupidity from you: pressing the crease of the covers, hiding a pair of underwear beneath the nightstand; as if the walls in the room were closing in to your deteriorating psychotic episode. Maybe the couch would’ve been better rather than the edge of the bed - you don’t even know anymore at this point. 

All of it could’ve been chalked up as a one-time thing - ostensibly, that would be the best possible outcome: instead of inviting a student who’s clearly years younger back into your room, not after the fact that she’s alluring in all her looks and the slip of addiction in the way she presents herself. 

Minju could be the end of you - in a lot of ways than just one. 

The stupid idea here you come up with: a duo of glasses set on the mini bar - your own concoction of vodka that won’t burn down the throat. Not for the reason to satiate the need of another beverage, but the thought counts. Or so you thought. You’re not in your own head in getting the girl drunk, right? There’s no pressure about it- 

Your neck snaps at the light tapping at the door, three times. Quick enough to pull the door open and see Minju waiting on the other end. Legs crossed and hand resting to her side, dress unchanged; a stupid observation considering how much time’s passed. She still has your coat from earlier. Smiles at you before scanning both ends of the hallway; of course she’d rather save the thought of being caught dead in your crosshairs (let alone- your own fucking hotel room) when there might be other peers nearby. 

Grinning as the short-lived greeting. “Hi,” she sighs, relieved. 

“Someone seems tense,” you say, returning the grin. 

Minju blinks, “So um,” the line of her shoulders loosen in a fast second. “Will you let me in?” 

“Yes, oh my god. Of course, please. Come in,” you nod without a single thought, hastily shuffling your feet across the carpet beneath. Extending an arm to hold the door as she walks in, meeting her nod as she breezes past your proximity. With the door closing behind and it’s just the two of you isolated again. 

She walks to the middle of the room, refined and poised. Like if the world stopped for her and the only thing you can do is to acknowledge her in that moment. Despite how dimly lit the room was, it made her even more strikingly beautiful. 

You think that God himself is urging you to not court her; simply because-

Someone like you doesn't deserve that luxury. 

“I made a simple drink,” you tell her, pointing to the mini bar in the corner before the lamp. “It’s vodka with some soda mixed in to ease the bitterness. Only what the hotel provided, anyway,” you stutter, as Minju notices with a few steps in that direction. To which, she takes the offering. Hiding a scowl after the sip with the glass gently set back to its original coaster. 

While being the idiot that you are, you’re fidgeting your fingers and trying to keep yourself busy in the compact room: requesting your coat back, taking her bag, insisting her to accept a glass of water as the late chaser. 

“Hey,” Minju’s voice cuts through your ears and it stills your heart. That steady timbre, draws your attention back to her, with every step of hers sending blood through your veins invigoratingly fast. One hand is to your shoulder, the other dancing along the tips of your fingers. “I thought you wanted to kiss me now.” 

Well, she’s got you there. 

Fingers intertwined and closing the distance, chest to chest. The mere want clouding your head is just enough to release the nerves and let the intrusive actions take its course. In those doe eyes filling yours; soft, pretty pink lips parted and waiting. She needs this just as much as you do. 

You cup her cheek, gently. She lets the light tilt of her face invoke the message - a final say to reconsider- 

And she doesn’t. 

Her pupils are foggy, blown. The endless abyss beneath them is a mere pool for you to sink into. You’ve got no reasons to meet her lips, but here you are: kissing so carefully, and it’s messing you up. 

That mouth is- so damming and incredibly soft; with a fucked up part of you imagining it just to your liking. Despite the size, they’re addicting to the mix of vodka and ginger ale. You start slow, keep it within the lips. She chases the sensation when you pull back, longing the press more as your nose slides on her cheek, her breasts smothering the cloth on your shirt. 

Yet the way she kisses you is a theory to study - teetering the borderline of needy, and feral. Minju’s not the perfect girl you’ve drawn her up to be. Actually- it’s a kiss with such urgency as she drops her jaw lower, slips her tongue through your lips. You oblige and let her have it, tugging on your bottom lip until she’s making you bleed. In fact: no one has ever kissed you like this since you were young. It’s all confusing, for one; though it’s making you hot and the clutch in your pants even tighter. 

She’s wrinkling your shirt in her fists, swaying her hips in your hands. A slip of the tongue into her mouth loosens her jaw, opens herself wider. You cup her cheek, bend the angle of her neck. The noises she’s seeping are heavenly, the mere sound of it going straight to your cock, albeit from your mouth first. 

Her chest is elevated, heaving. You’re seeing what lies beyond her collarbone, the delicate skin waiting to be defiled. She draws you closer to her neck as she sighs in relief. The pulse point and space behind her ear the only thing Minju can focus on at the moment. Breathing you in; there’s a hint of white sands, a calm sage, something frothy and warm. A sweet spring interlude to a warm summer. 

Minju’s knees surrender at the sudden graze of your teeth along her throat. Only to find solace in your mouth once more, pushing you to the edge of the bed. It prods the suggestion to bring her to your lap, hitch the dress up to her thigh, the fabric restricting just slightly. This is the window to stop (in which, you don’t want to); however, it’s a snap of common sense away from the addicting heat of her mouth. You swallow on air that isn’t thick with her taste. 

“Wait,” you pause. It's the lifeline of your salvation, “Remind me: how old are you again?” 

She stills, watches as you wipe your chin, huffing. It’s clearly one of the three questions you never ask in conversation, which explains the dirty look that’s given. 

“Minju-” 

“Twenty two. Not that I care, honestly.” 

Your eyes roll back. No need to do the math here. The girl’s got your hands before they could retreat off her body, only hiking up more and more of her dress. 

“Sir, please.” 

Desperation, you conclude. It’s in the way her tone shifts from calm to this. You philosophized that there is an existence of hell, and there’s a certainty that you’ll end up there. Especially with this deity leaning over and kissing you again. Pressing into your mouth sweetly. She meets your eyes, swiping a hair from your forehead. 

“Please,” and she’s saying this with lidded eyes. 

And that’s all the resolve snuffed out of you. 

You’re quick to cup her cheeks and kiss her harshly, with just enough desperation as her. Gasping and laughing when you flip her pretty little body on her back, crawling atop. Every bit of insanity gets worse than before when you part her thighs, push her arms over and around her head when she settles into the duvet. Tongues swiping in a duel with no victor. Your hand shoots for her waist, palm hooking her entire waist. A real live wire, unraveling; her body shivers at the brush of your knee to her thighs, flinching. Everything about her is raw and there’s nothing you can do to save yourself. 

Just as you’re ruining her, Minju’s ruining your attire. Pulling and undoing the buttons of your shirt, loosening the tie. You relax and let her work for it until she can’t, pulling off the shirt and the belt to follow. Soon after, she’s trying to undo herself along with the dress. 

“It’s okay,” you say, kissing a shoulder blade as she turns on her stomach. Watch her sweep the hair to reveal the nape of her neck as the zipper descends. You eventually get to the end where the metal stops above her ass. The fabric grants you more angles of her curves, where the skin is revealed even more with scattered beauty marks. Only for you to notice that she isn’t wearing a bra - but the lacy waistband that’s resting at the lowest point of her hips. “You’re beautiful,” you praise, kissing her spine as the dress gets pulled by your fingers. 

The trail of kisses continues with her . 

“You can tell me to stop,” you whisper. Smiling into another kiss. 

Minju shoves her head into the pillows, shaking. 

“I’m giving you permission to say ‘no’, baby. And I’ll listen.” 

“No.” 

She’s quivering from your weight. You don’t answer, nor can afford to. 

“You really want this?” You then ask. A kiss to a dimple on her lower back.

“Professor-” 

“Use your words, Minju.” Her back arches under you, trying to press her ass on your cock. “I need you to tell me.” 

“Yes,” she sighs, though it comes as a hiss. Exhausted. “I need it- need you.” 

This only makes you realize again, 

You’d never think twice with her. 

Minju sighs in kind when you roll her back up to see her face, clearly wrecked as you are: those puffy, pouted lips and glassy eyes; hair frazzled, and it’s not doing you any good the way she holds it up in a loose ponytail, giving that extra fringe. The strapless dress is falling at her tits, only to realize that she had nothing underneath - a fantasy that you’ve devised since meeting her outside, it’s a real fucking disservice. 

In your eyes, she’s incredibly more perfect than you can theorize: light and toned, porcelain smooth skin. Makes you forget the gap in other places- 

You should feel guilty about it. 

Despite that, she guides your hand to her breast and makes you grip roughly. You scoff at how eager she is and it soon gets buried in your throat how lithe the feel is in your own palm. Like she’s made for you. A quick graze of her nipple to your thumb and she flinches. You try again and it’s the same jolt in her body, inhaling and makes you hiss through the teeth. The responsiveness is more sudden than the alcohol. 

At this point your shirt’s off and Minju’s at your neck, nipping away and will be a real blemish to deal with the morning after. Not to worry - you wanted it. A form of physical proof that shows you let her touch the way she does, reminding you that no other girl in your life has made you feel like this. She squirms when you finally get to her collarbone, see the protrusions of bone along her skin and dance on them with your fingertips with the delicacy of a harp player. Placing a nipple between your lips which prompts her to dig into your scalp with her fingers. 

Your hand slips down to her thigh and rests there, amazed with how smooth the skin at her legs really was. While there were some stray hairs along the surface, as if she’d never shave below the knee, it’s a sickening feeling that’s only deepening with no thought of calming - to claim something you’ve got no rights to.  

And when your fingers stroke over the lace of her panties, they’re wet. Minju’s legs tense at the touch. 

“Good?” You ask, kissing her sternum and making the way down, rubbing circles to her outer thigh and licking her waist. 

“I’ll let you- y’know,” she rasps, gripping more of your hair when your hands rest at the grooves of her thigh. 

Your brows knit together, unimpressed. It’s too easy to have her like this - too easy for her to give herself in such a way and a little too much. She’s been addicting since the second you met her and you start to notice how open- how willing- let alone pliable she’s trying to be. She’s serious, and it’s there. You realize that she’ll take everything so well at anything you dish out at her. 

A subtle bite of her inner thigh, and she softly yelps. “Then let me ask: what do you want, Minju?” 

Her legs twitch again, hand guiding back to the center. 

“A lot of things,” she answers, “Really, like- oh jesus- everything, actually-” 

You nibble at the fabric and she loses it even more. “Is this something you want?” 

Minju does her best to keep cool, and then your nose grazes her core through the lace and you’re whispering these lovely sounds of nothingness. 

“Fuck- sir, yes.” 

You slide her panties off her unbelievable legs and place two fingers over her clit, which makes Minju wince at the first gentle swipe. Learning that it won’t take as much to have her whole body shuddering under you. Once you’ve got a small taste of her, you go back to the gushing heat and let her have it. 

Here, you don’t recall having such a feeling like this before or in past experiences. The fact that she’s unbearably hot, her tightness corralling your fingers, leaking into the bottom of your palm. She’s got her head on the pillow when you move, slowly pumping in pace in and out of her. And it’s in the broken silence of these four walls, the sounds of slick slipping from her cunt - Minju’s covering her pretty face into the rumpled duvet and whimpering. You’re panting into her neck while your fingers continue to work her over. Then her hands are searching for a hold; to your sides, to the sheets. Her waist naturally rocks over with the digits you have inside of her, making her chase with those bucking hips. 

The other remedy you give is a kiss to her pulse. 

Minju glances before she looks the other way, considering that the spot you’re stroking is making her brain mush. Aside from the fact that your wrist is straining between her thighs, you ignore it - the rhythm too good with the noises she’s spilling out from her lips. 

“Relax,” you croon, hand to her stomach and waiting at the hip. “Let me take care of the rest.” 

Minju rasps at the strokes at that sweet spot. While part of you wants to work it through and see how riled up she can actually get - yet it doesn’t seem like she’s the patient type, noticing how close she was within a short span of minutes. Your thumb brushes her clit in circles, and that gets her whimpering at the feeling alone. You long for a look at her face, pressed tightly to the sheets and pillow. She’s helplessly clenching around your fingers that the drag is taking a toll - her back arches, with legs shaking- 

Suddenly, it’s all snuffed out with a stilled gasp. You ignore the tension at your hand, push through the feeling and let the fingers press inside. Minju holds in a breath, knocking the top of her lungs - the contraction enough for you to finally see her expression: a twisted face with knitted eyes shut, bearing the impending wave of euphoria you were about to suck out of her. 

Just like that:

Bliss. 

Minju comes with a pitched shriek. Easing with a clutch to your shoulder and rolling her hips with the dress sifting with her body. Her thighs slam shut and her sensitive clit is light on your fingertip and responsive. 

You kiss her cheek and temple and stroke her jaw. When you finally relieve her of your fingers - sticky and left in her mess, the urge to taste her is all you think about. Sucking them clean and savoring the reward: ravishing, for one, and incredible. “God, darling. You-” 

Her lips press at the tent of your pants, enough to focus back on it. 

“Miss.” It’s the first time you’ve addressed her that way since the party. A little out of character but worth trying, despite her steeled determination and quick hands working down the button and zipper- fingers wrapped around your growing shaft when you realize it’s going to get a whole lot worse-

Your length gets freed from the elastic and it springs right up to her pretty face. It lands on her button nose and she can’t fathom you being nearly the size of her head.  Her tongue is quick to take a salivating lick underneath; swallowing on nothing (again, or- yet, at least). 

As if one hand wasn’t enough, her other joins the fray - guiding you to her parting lips, resting the underside against her tongue. Minju’s eyes watch you stare her down with all the naughty things seeping through your endless pools, sliding the head past her teeth and inhales as a test. The mere wickedness of such a simple action would’ve made you bust on the spot. She has another go and brings the length down her mouth to halfway, and you’re increasingly reluctant to pull out. Yes, her tongue is fucking amazing but if you yield to that single temptation alone, there won’t be enough for when you get inside her folds and it’ll be unforgivable. 

Minju tilts her head and those bedroom eyes are a true devil’s advocate, attempting to slip your tip past her scraping teeth. 

“God-” It only makes you snap and grab her face with both of your hands and push your cock into her throat for a taste. You groan and laugh while sliding out and help her sit up soon after. “You’re wonderful.” 

She lets her tongue flick a vein, a kiss soon after. “Hmm?” It’s an insufferable tease. 

“I would’ve came if you kept doing that.” You then say, cupping her jaw. 

Minju smirks back in satisfaction, and it’s all a jester’s ploy. She lets her face fall one side again with gleaming eyes - confident, arrogant. Like a brat. 

You play kindly and tilt down to kiss her. All of that gaudy assurance disappears when she’s reciprocating and moaning down your mouth. Tangling your fingers to her scalp, take that makeshift ponytail and have a hold for yourself and feel her locks spill over the digits. She’s quick to lay back while you discard your lower garments, Minju slipping out of her panties. Your knee presses her center, smearing. The feel of your cock to her inner thigh makes you leak slightly. 

Her smile goes lazy when your tip meets her folds, in a testy observance. 

“Shit,” you say, groaning. Minju’s barely listening and too fixated at her center. “Fucking christ.” 

“Yeah?” and those damn bedroom eyes of hers aren’t doing her any favors. 

“Left condoms.” You’re stupidly speaking because it’s something you didn’t consider for years. And it wasn’t like you did this often, anyway. 

Minju pouts her lips, still with trained eyes. “It’s okay,” she whispers. Her fucking hips are rolling her cunt on the head of your cock. 

“You sure? What about the pill, at least-” it’s a precaution, not much for her hand wrapped to your shaft and guiding you still. 

“Mhm,” she hums, eager. “I’ll be fine.” 

“I’m just- considerate.” You’re barely registering the fact about ruining her and the chance to fuck her with no safeguards. 

“It’s fine.” She says firmly. It comes off as on edge, annoyance- probably impatient. You take her word for it and go along the way. Kissing her forehead and temple; feel Minju’s breath hitch when the press is made - lining up with no issue and blanking out for a second. 

Minju, from your many conclusions, is: unbelievably-fucking-tight. You don’t see any reason to escape from it, how the slick heat surrounds your length, better than anything you’ve ever felt or experienced. It stills you for a moment, drawing these breaths which should be easy, cupping her head and holding her close. She’s sighing again, eyes shut. Might be a while for her as well. You drag an inch back and hear a shuddered exhale. Which prompts another inch retracted for good measure, and push back in - then another, slowly, this will make you insane. One more thrust siphons a noise from the bottom of her throat; something raw, and cardinally present. 

(She’s everything you’ve wanted - what you didn’t know was needed until you had her.) 

The both of you stay like that, rucking hips and zeroing on each other’s breaths. Until Minju’s dispelled to these semi-hearty sighs - uncrinkling her brows and slacked in pleasure. Her ankle digs to your thigh, a rescue rope of sorts, for you to focus all the way and bottom her out. 

Then her mouth forms an ‘oh’. She shakes. 

In the midst of the building pressure, you’re asking: “How’s that? Okay? Good?” Combing her hair to see her face better; another thrust passing through her and she leans to your palm. 

Minju’s nodding, maybe the only thing she can possibly do at the moment. Her parted lips take yours with arms around the neck, hooking. 

This is a snapshot in your life you want to take and keep forever, recall every sound she’s ringing in your ears, how her hair smells, the way her insides take your cock so well with passing time. Her hips meet yours in the middle, taking your pace deeper. There’s so much time to spend with her; you’d want to stay in her walls forever. 

She’s insisting for more, more. 

“Sir- sir. Please- fuck me-” 

“I got you,” and you do. 

For the first time since meeting her, you’re freely fucking into her with purpose. Every inch that’s buried in her lovely cunt makes her stifle a cry into the sheets, your shoulder, your lips, just anywhere where the noise doesn’t wake the nearby hotel guests. She’s so good on your cock it’s fucking hurting; on the up and down and the slide in and out - the mere forth and back and back and forth with much fervence. 

Minju isn’t there anymore; she’s completely gone. It makes sense for her case because she’s cursing and gasping at the teeth, failing at biting down her moans. Neither of you can help it - the pleasure is good to you both. 

Both of your bodies are flush, moving as one. Every tap of your cockhead inside her is like a gateway to her conscience, joining two heads together. It feels like it; all of your thoughts, claiming and devouring every corner of your brain. Minju’s pitch has raised an octave and it might let alone silence the heavens. 

Your hands are holding you upright, while hers is claiming purchase to your body - like two birds fighting in the air and falling, spiraling to the ground. You take her wrists over her head, push her into the mattress more. She doesn’t even try to return the kiss, all she gives back are more moans against your mouth. 

Those eyes, again. She’s looking at you like it should be terrifying. With those pools so wide and trusting, sucking you in that endless pit of lust and something more dark that would defile all followings of faith. An impossibility to bear, so you settle with her neck and just focus on how close she’s getting, banking she doesn’t even know it herself. As much as you want to keep pounding her for more than a couple seconds, you’re more desperate to watch her crumble beneath you. Rock your hips to hers and feel her clit rub the base - she’s clenching her teeth with eyes closed. 

You keep going with a few more thrusts, as much as you can give her. Her body is basically being pushed up against the mattress and only being yanked back to your cock, meeting her forehead as her orgasm sends tremors to her entire body. Her cunt clenches around you, locking her ankles to your legs. 

Checkmate. 

She’s holding you to the edge - cumming inside with no escape, leaving ropes to her cervix. The quiet room filled with loud gasps and huffs that will surely have noise complaints later, softening to whimpers. 

You collapse on top of Minju, with enough room for her to breathe. Catching your own while your vision comes to. Curse the vertigo, but what good would that bring if it weren’t for the release. She’s shivering to your chest, and every exhale is another shudder of a clattering teeth. You kiss her cheek, then stroke her hair, thumb her hips for a job well done - adoring, in reverence. The mere thought of guilt doesn’t creep in right away, but it will eventually. Right now, all you want is to be close to her. 

Minju hums to get your attention, something content or exhausted, massaging your hair and moving a few stray hairs on your forehead. Completely ignoring the fact that you’re still hard inside of her and she smiles with a bump to her button nose. You don’t acknowledge the lurch your heart gives from the look she’s exuberating, ridding the cobwebs and dust - beating proudly as if to say that “this soul still has some life here”. 

In reluctance, you eventually pull out of her - and the both of you wince at the loss. You move up the duvet to where you both are within the proximity of the sheet draping over. Her exhales are your inhales, and it’s the same the other way; to the point where the air is shared. Minju traces a finger to your face, thumbing wrinkles that would’ve faded at her touch alone - from your forehead, to the defined cheekbones, that jaw. It’s a gentle touch you’ve had in a long while. 

What feels abrupt to an eternity, Minju huffs and sits up slowly, buckling her elbow and coughing. You’re rubbing a shoulder and bridging an arm to hers. “Why not stay?” You ask, seeing her tilt her chin at the question. “I can order us something in the morning,” she listens as you add. “On me. Whatever you’re craving.” 

She smirks - it’s pretty, genuine. That flash of teeth is a sunrise of its own in the long night. Then it switches to something more solemn, not too regretful - you settle for wistful. 

“As much as I want to, I can’t. Really, I’d take up the offer,” Minju tells you. “I appreciate it.” 

While you could feel your heart sink for a second, you nod. The disappointment weighs heavy, and even more heavier as she stands up. Only for you to notice the crimson stain left on the sheets, clearly out of place and defiling the linen. 

“Min- wait. Your legs- or something. Are you okay?” You’re concerned, examining closely. She turns around once her dress is on, reaching for the ruined dress. 

“Huh? Oh. I- Ugh. I should’ve said something-” she stutters, scratching her forehead. 

“It’s fine. Are you- I didn’t hurt you, did I?” 

Minju shakes her head in lieu of a ‘no’. 

“Is that normal? For you?” 

You see her jaw flex, shrugging. She’s pulling the dress up to her waist. “I mean, it just sort of happened-” 

Half right she is. It still leaves you confused, and then the notion hits you like a bullet. 

“Hang on-” your heart quivers, anxious. “You actually never-” 

No answer. 

“Really. You’re kidding me.” Both of you know what the conclusion is. “Are-” 

Her eyes roll and nostrils flare. “The answer is yes. Now is it going to be that big of a deal for you? Or can we move on?” She doesn’t flinch at your connecting dots. You’re staring down the smirking girl in a small shock regardless.  

(Here: you don’t actually say it, but the implication was there - she is, or, was, in fact, a little over an hour ago, but there’s no need to go over the details, again.) 

Instead your face is between your palms and the guilt could not have spilled over any quickly. Yeah. You’re definitely gonna live with that for the rest of your life, it seems. 

“Minju- you- I think a heads up would’ve been nice. At least tell me before-” you sigh and there’s no point in thinking what could’ve been done differently. Which begs the questions: would you have really stopped? What would you do if she had told you? Spare her a little more care? Not be as rough? Let alone the fact you went all the way- 

“Listen. Don’t make yourself the bad guy here,” relents Minju, sitting at the desk and beginning to straighten her hair and touch up her lipstick. Looking back over her shoulder, “I wanted it. And, it was good. Simple.” 

“Alright, but look if your first time is going to be somewhat memorable, it should’ve been different,” you sigh, buttoning up your shirt and cuffs before the necktie gets thrown around the collar. “Christ. Who am I even kidding? I was gonna have you in the back of my car if you hadn’t suggested-” and you’re rambling; everything about the plot is so fucked for you while she appears to be completely fine. 

She chuckles; almost in a mocking form. “Did I give any expression that said ‘i didn’t want you to fuck me?’” 

You’ve got your tongue in teeth. It’s unfair for her to be this cruel. 

“Well-” and there’s this quick exasperation of disbelief with a dropping hand, “No, you didn’t. That being said, I still-” 

You watch her walk over to the mattress and lean on your hip, not exactly straddling but still doing enough to keep you dumbstruck and keep your words stuck in the throat as she kisses you earnestly on the cheek, nodding in kind. “Be a dear and zip me back up.” She shifts her head and sweeps a few hairs, then taps your jaw a few times while she turns around. 

Naturally, she’s got all of her hair to the front which reveals her upper back, and you can’t help but wonder how good it’ll look riddled with bruises and bite marks. But that’s just the lust part of your brain doing that while the other is in figurative zombie mode and almost sleepwalker-like - not to mention the guilt and shame and possible court case looming when you finally lock it in place at the top. 

Observant as she loosens herself, patting down areas of her dress to ensure they’re comfortable. She still looks untouched - albeit her flushed cheeks still present and fading, her hair wavy and more weathered compared to her straight and clean picture from earlier. You’re watching the mask she bears finally take shape - so neat and prettily like a well-tailored doll. 

“Maybe a dinner would suffice,” you propose, a first suggestion to compensate for the mess you’ve gotten into. “Doesn’t have to be glamorous, even. I could just give you my number if you’d like.” The sands of time aren't playing kindly to your efforts, and the main crevice between the both of you is only getting larger. 

“Phone. Give.” She commands, extending a hand. You’re patting yourself down only to realize that it was left on the floor with your trousers. Minju watches you over, probably dumbfounded at how stupid you look, but that seems to be okay with her. 

You blink as she presses the screen and saves the contact after, handing it over. 

“Guess this is goodbye,” she softly says to you. As if she signed her life away and seeing you stay as she goes. You ball a fist and relax, settling the urge to pull her back. 

“Good night, Minju.” 

You’re holding the door open as she departs with a faint smirk. It hurts you to see her leave the room - even more when she doesn’t turn back whilst down the hallway - and the door has seen the air filled with a single soul riddled in vodka, santal, and remnants of sex. 

Once everything settles, you change out to a clean shirt, noticing an unfamiliar garment next to the pile of dirty clothes: a pair of lacy panties. You sigh; of course she left it here. Quick to put it away even before the thoughts creep back into your brain. 

–

(When you’re between the pillows filled with her scent, you open up the new contact: 

Minju P. 

Her phone number is quite elegant as her name and look. You smile at that. 

Which only curdles the boiling curiosity even more. A tab with ‘Minju Park Gala’ on the search bar: nothing. ‘Minju Park University event’ added with the date doesn't give you any answers either. Scrolling through a few esteemed articles where she’s credited for a few of them. It’s the same name, but there’s a referral to Minju K. P. There’s something fishy, a fact she left out (maybe on purpose but you don’t want to assume), switching out the P for a K, and vice versa. 

This kicker makes you sit up: ‘Minju K. Park’. A photo is seen in the images on the webpage. She’s younger - only by a few years - sat in front of a woman in the center of the photo. The woman behind has her hand resting to her shoulder; you could feel the weight of it from the aged film alone. 

You clock it from the face first before the info quote: 

Minju Kim pictured with her daughter Minju Park (front) at the opening ceremony of Gillit University. 

“Shit,” you exhale. 

Minju Park-Kim. Kim Minju’s direct successor of the most powerful institutions in leading education, given the article and a little more scrolling to the side. Her mother’s been playing a pivotal role as her main teacher, from the looks of it. 

You spot more photos and see her and the mother across multiple events, some from personal life and at work: she’s poised, a trailblazer in her own right. The catalog goes on for decades, Kim Minju’s personal trophy at the forefront of PR purposes. And her very daughter just lost her virginity in a ritzy hotel to a person who’s years ahead of her while the mother is playing headmaster a few miles away. 

It should make you feel way worse than before. Yet- 

You actually don’t care. 

And shoot a text to her soon after.) 

–

A week passes. You both settle at this dingy place that sells decent ice cream and smoothies - far away from any vicinity where your faces are a familiarity. 

(Yeah, she tells you, let’s go grab something cold while the weather is nipping at our skin. That’s a great idea. You don’t really care. The ideas were spread thin as it is.) 

You’ve had an initial thought of a proper dinner, one well put together with a reservation, a bottle of wine, and the bill going one way. She took her sweet time texting you back. It honestly makes you happy she’s here to go along with the date. 

Everything about it goes against your daily schedule: you’re treating Minju Park-Kim to a sweet treat on a random weekday evening. For any consolation from the last time you and her were together, this was the most mundane thing that should have been done in the first place. Unlike eating each other’s faces off and fucking in the hotel room. (For her first, as well.) 

Regardless of class or status, it would be kind for you to have some sort of sense to learn about the girl some more that doesn't involve railing her hips off with the legs up but- hey, she doesn’t know you found out the truth. 

You order the usual: a double scoop of cookies and cream. She, on the other hand, picks out a nice cherry sorbet. It rests well on her cup and leaves a bit of red on the spoon when she places it there while it melts. See the bottom of her lip curl outward before testing a lick for good measure. 

“Funny,” you breathe, smiling. “You told me that ice cream was your thing.” 

Minju stabs her scoop as an offense. “Accusing me of lying?” 

“Never claimed nor concluded that,” you laugh. “You just look like those workers who scrape gum underneath the lunch tables.” 

“Cookies and cream. Really!? Just go freeze some oreos and save the money.” 

You roll your eyes and snatch her spoon, scooping a nice chunk of yours to offer as a sample. “Have some.” 

Her brows furrow, with a few wrinkles at the top of her nose. 

“It’s not gonna hurt you,” you chuckle. Waving it closer to her adorable scowl, sighing. “For me.” 

She then closes her eyes, parting her lips as the scoop disappears into her mouth. You catch the quick glimpse of her tongue when she gets a bit off of her top lip, licks them soon after. Tongue in cheek, nodding in approval. 

“See?! What’d I say,” you drawl, taking a scoop for your own as a prize. 

“It isn’t that appealing,” replies Minju. While you lean back and drop your shoulders, she takes the spoon and gets another piece for herself. Quick to grab her wrist before the scoop ever got anywhere. 

“Hang on now. When did I say it’s okay to get another one from me?” Right then there’s this look on her face, with pulled lips as if she’s unimpressed while you make another scoop for her to lick of. Two mouthfuls were enough to suffice her, and you have no complaint spooning her bites across the booth. She then stops after the third, grinning with another lick of her lips. 

You’ve drawn up the observation of how pretty she is looking at you like this: the small crescents in her eyes when she smiles, the gentle quirk or twitch of her eyebrow when something is tasty; her light, toffee hair down and resting loosely at the shoulders. The parlor’s small, a quick stop by train on the way to campus - much easier on the eyes, lighter, her head falls like she’s got no worries. 

It’s your act of service to wipe your thumb first before leaning across to smear off the ice cream left beneath Minju’s lips. Her mouth drops before closing again where your fingertip rests on her chin, on the nice little space between. Her smirk forms as a tease and those doting eyes - too bright and inviting and blinking to snap you out of it when the second of staring lingers more than it should. 

She hums in satisfaction, cocking her head the opposite side. 

“I won’t be mad,” and it’s in this telling voice of assurance. “I don’t mind you touching me.” 

Your eyes dart to the window, guilty as charged. Yet you don’t smile or frown, but this mixed reaction of being conflicted. “It’s not that,” you say, placing your cup down followed by clasped hands, “it’s the fact that- maybe we shouldn’t.” 

Minju pauses, reading into the lines. The level of awareness for someone her age should already be developed, and props to her for noticing the cues. “Maybe,” she answers. “No, you’re right. We probably shouldn’t.” 

Facetious, you’ll give her that. 

Though you feel her foot on your ankle under the table and she’s just slowly moving it up and down your shin (mind you: her legs are bare, with that knee length skirt and not giving a shit about the cold weather - it should ring the alarm bells in your head but you choose to ignore it). “Actually, you’re a hundred percent right.” 

You level your heads and let it sit. 

On the other hand, she’s got her hand propping her chin, batting lashes with those wide eyes, with that innocent folly. The fact that Minju’s not doing anything is doing a number on you mentally - thinking that it would be easier this time being around her. There isn’t any alcohol or any bust up with the spoiled kids, nor any excuse to find an out for sleeping with a woman that’s waving all the red flags in your head. No. It’s way worse. Even with the grief and fog of alcohol not in your mind - how clear it’s become of the fact she’s gorgeous and clever; elegant and refined in the manner which she speaks, with those gentle hands and firm knees. Your thumb finds her lips again and remember the feeling of them. Plus, it’s already bad enough you’ve fantasized about her multiple times during the week, even with the missing pair of panties which she also doesn't know about. 

You actually don’t notice her mouth moving, the noise blocked out between your ears. The grin she gives is actually lecherous. 

“I’m sure you have a staring problem,” she tells you. A tease when she drops the ‘sir’ again to grab your attention, the syllables rolling nicely on her teeth. That same pit in your stomach forms once more and you’re clearing your throat. 

“Minju, easy.” It’s a plea, to her - to be the better person between you two. You sigh and wipe your eyelids. “Don’t push it.”

“Mmm? I’m not doing anything,” she relents. God help you. Even if he could, there’s no stopping her foot rubbing your pant leg. 

You look down and flinch at the screech of the chair skating across the floor. She’s startled as well, but blinks through it, indifferent to the smug she held just a second earlier. “Look, this- I don’t think it’s a good-” 

“Idea?” The question Minju asks; shelves a bob at your throat. Her eyes flicker, coldly. Unimpressed. “In all fairness, you asked me. After all.” 

It’s unfair - the feeling of it spilling into your mind all at once - to be so revolting at the actions you’ve committed to be in this position. You knew better (but you didn’t) and still went along with the bad idea, anyway. Playing the paradoxical confusion of not wanting to be close to her but needing her otherwise is daunting. Fearful of getting too close, too fast, dragged by her impending pull and there’s nothing more you’d want than to just submit - which, in a sense, is the right thing to do. 

“You’re right. I did. And-” you solicit for her reply: no answer. To that, you sigh, “I’m ready to take you home, if you’re willing.” Instead, what she does is not say anything, standing up from the table and looking at you from up high before heading for the exit. On the way out, you’re jumbling the set of keys in your hand, following her around to the passenger side to open the door. Too bad she gets there first, quickly pulling and setting herself down with the seatbelt on and knees together. You meet on the opposite end and close the door, too. 

It’s freezing, the gentle chatter of teeth is heard from her as the breaths are clouding the windows. Even with the overcoat, her legs are visible where the jacket parts. The heat gets turned up to the max, lukewarm air only making it colder. Her fingers curl over her thighs. 

“Minju,” you say, hesitant. Her eyes never leave the front windshield. 

Her lips part slightly, drawing a breath in. She holds it, exhaling soon after. Seems like some of the anger has grown on her, written all over her face and shown in the fist - like the color leaving from a shriveling petal. It’s oddly frightening how calm she is. 

She turns to face you and stare right back. “You remember how to get back to my place right?” A simple inquiry with raised brows, lips perched where it doesn’t flex her cheeks. A completely different persona unlike the coyness personality and teasing that you were used to. Yet it all makes sense - with the surname, the royalty it comes with. She’s able to compartmentalize and slip into a skin that doesn’t have an alias or character. 

–

(You find it infuriating, however. 

Not because of the difference in class- no, not that. But the pieces that were slowly picked apart from a world you have no business being affiliated with. A want that’s been simmering since the second you met her. 

The urge to open her up and engorge yourself of the pieces that make her raw, unadulterated. 

Infuriating enough that losing someone like that is worse than any imaginable gain altogether.) 

–

The car hums to life and you’re entranced by her easy eyes.

 In that instant where the silence is only filled with the gentle beats of your hearts, you make a choice. Because that’s what you can do. Because now that you’ve had her, nothing else really matters. If it wasn’t for her, there wouldn’t be anything for you. The choice is apparent when you cross the center console with just enough grace to not scare her. Minju sees this, albeit blatantly obvious, but her eyebrows lift faster than her lips before she could utter a single word. 

Her lips are the same as you remember them from that night. You kiss her gently, hear her softly hum into the touch. She doesn't flinch at your cold hands, cupping her cheek and get your fingers in her hair. Lips sweet as the ice cream you spoonfed minutes ago. The warmth of them makes you forget about the chilly car. It makes you forget about all of that - how deprived she’s been without you, scarfing down air in the gaps and less frantic than the first time. 

Her hands form fists to your coat and she pulls. You don’t fight her when she’s off the seat, moving with a purpose that’s so endearing. Her teeth clash with yours; it doesn’t hurt but you both laugh gently at the moment. She breaks with deep breaths, labored, bumping noses. Making her way to your lap and get her feet under. You pause, pinch her unbelievable waist. Minju forces you to look at her as you scan in an obvious spot: beneath the streetlight and still in a semi-full parking lot. 

You smile, and all she does is place a nice peck to your lips. “You really don’t want to do this here?” She asks, seeing your shaking head and sighing in defeat. Then stumbling back to her seat and shivering on the way down. “It’s not like they’re gonna interrogate us for being in the car.” 

“A lot more serious if it’s a person with a status with someone she shouldn’t be with.” 

“Where’s the fun in that?” 

“You basically wanted to hop and get caught on my cock just now.” 

Minju bites her lip at that. It could be the cold or pent-up tension, or both in this matter. She isn’t doing herself a favor when her hand finds its way between her legs. 

 “I know, I know,” you say, chuckling. “Why don’t we find somewhere else more private, okay?” 

–

Neither of you say a word as you’re driving - think of it as some unspoken agreement that was arranged without saying anything. You’re just rolling along with no direction at all, hoping that the landmarks around the town will eventually lead you back to Minju’s estate. 

Minju has her legs spread just slightly, making space for you. Hand to her knee. She’s tracing your knuckles on your other hand that isn’t on the wheel. She’s fidgeting. You play along and slide your hand up and up; you don’t actually see it buried beneath the coat, but the softness grazes the fingertips and the breadth of your fingers take up her whole leg. 

One of her hands finds your wrist, clutching, urging you to move your hand higher. The grip on the steering wheel goes tight as she guides it to her upper thigh and the sensitive skin that resides. It’s a lot on your mind since she’s shaking at your touch. You turn at the road where it breaks into an empty parking lot, no lights hanging overhead. There’s a corner near the building and the only other car that’s in the lot seems untouched; perhaps abandoned for years, maybe. Your hand leaves her thigh and shift the car to park. 

A giggle could be heard from her, following a grin. “What?” 

“Really,” she breathes, sighing as your fingers splay her thigh. “A church?” 

You lift your brows and she mirrors the same expression. Her gaze goes to the window and you follow. 

‘Church of Latter-Day Saints’ is seen on a dimly lit sign, with a dove and cross next to the name. 

You shake your head and grin. ‘Didn’t notice that. Real nice.” 

“We could always look elsewhere-” 

Minju chortles. She lets her head lean to the seat with her eyes on you. 

“You’re inclined to take a little risk, you know. Live without rules?” 

You roll your eyes at that, letting the fact about sleeping with a former student in your car simmer in your head. There would be something said about this, but instead you tap her thigh twice and nod. “Yeah, I could.” 

“There’d be no saving you.” 

“No, there wouldn’t be.” 

She smirks at that, eyes flickering from yours to lips. And she leans in. You think she might kiss here, but she doesn’t. Her hand goes to your cheek and thumbs the skin, observing the structure so carefully before refocusing. 

You lean in to fill the space where she doesn’t and she’s shedding her overcoat, letting it fall to the floor of the seat. Watch as she climbs over the console to the backseat, see her ass in the rearview, skirt riding high up her thighs and the subtle outline of her profile in the darkness. Slotting through the seats easily and turning around to face you. 

Minju sees you follow after, putting your seat forward as much as possible without suffocating your chest to the wheel. You can’t move as nimbly compared to her and hell- even your bones are praying for mercy. 

Slight change of plans, you just open the door and move to the backseat from outside, right next to her. Minju bites down a grin. Her heels are also discarded to the front, knees underneath where she kneels, sensing your pull and taking that warmth. She gives the same look in her eyes as before, like she knows how much you want to kiss her. 

So you get your pair or lips on hers, give each other an easy chase. Opening up at the small increments; sighing, panting, gasping. The heat will make its way eventually, pulling and moving in the little space that you’ve got. You pull her to your lap without leaving her lips, finally having her thighs pressing her properly. It’s amazing how responsive she is, almost natural. For a girl like her to move up in the world with so much simplicity and no struggle - how lived in the unadulterated way she is when you’re together; weak, clumsy knees and smiling with all teeth. 

You believe that everything with her is real. 

Minju’s hissing down your mouth. “More, more, more-” she croons, her hips grinding hard and pulling your shirt. These nice, little hymns of want seeping at the corners. She’s got her skirt rucked around the waist. You slide a hand up her thigh, around to the curve of her ass, the other to her back and keep her from falling. Her lips break the kiss as she strips the baby blue cardigan and shirt in one clean motion - hitting her head on the ceiling but she’s laughing while you’re focusing on her sheer undershirt that barely covers her supple breasts. You could see the peaks of her nipples, leaning down to suck a nub through the clean fabric. 

“God-” she whines, wounding fingers deep into your hair. She hates how good you are at this, indecisive at what she wants; hunching over your head and resting her hips, reaching down to undo the belt between your bodies. “Can’t help yourself, hm?” 

You look up at her, leaving her tits wet and slimy with spit, clearly visible through the fabric. “Let me taste you.” 

She bites her lips at you, holding your face. “You have to ask more politely.” 

“I-” and she’s got a finger to your lips. 

“Ask. Nicely.” 

The gears in your head short circuit; shit. Your pride went away the second you met her on that terrace, and more of it when she walked in your hotel room. 

“May I,” you ask, voice horse and tilting to her tits, biting a nipple. Minju yelps and she can’t give an answer. “Taste you, please. Ma’am.” 

She takes a breath - a shaky one - gets her bottom lip to her teeth, and nods. You help her off your lap and lay her back along the backseat with the little space manageable. Her skirt gets slipped off, which left her in a pair of ruined bra and a soaked bra. She’s quick to take those off l, impatient. Your shirt is also quick to go and the clack of the belt buckle hits the floor, too. Beginning a trail of kisses down her front, each one making her shake more than the last. 

You pause, get lost in the vast sequin of fine skin laid barren that you’re about to ruin. No corner of her body is left untouched by your hands and lips, blessed by the dim light that’s peeking through the sunroof and windows. From the collarbone to her subtle formation of ribs; she’s bathed in this gentle luminescence in the blue darkness, dipping a tongue to her hipbone, and Minju’s breath hitches closer to her core. 

“Good? Okay?” you ask right above her clit.

“Yes,” nods Mnju. The answer itself is a hiss, a vice in her throat. When you look up to her eyes it’s a moment to genuflect: her pools spilling a darkness of want, her breasts heaving up and down. Covering her mouth with her hand and unable to look away. “Ruin me.” 

While there’s a fire lit under your knee, trying to make do with the pain, it wouldn’t matter to you. When she’s looking at you with those lidded eyes, desperate for something that she can’t even find the words to. You can’t help but be adorned in grace with what’s presented to you as a gift between her thighs. Her pussy lips; so pretty and pink and well flushed; suddenly you wished for another chance to take her somewhere else where the light from above can bless her angelic offering. 

You breathe against her, barely, hot and open, see the twitch at her abs. Fuck. She winces when you kiss right above her clit, well aware that she doesn’t need much. Tonge pressed flat in one, gentle swipe upward. Minju’s grip on your hair goes tight, burning your scalp. An encouragement. 

“My god, fuck-” she sighs, and the sounds are a mix of being strangled and relaxed. You keep on lapping her cunt, suck in her entrance and clit - keeping the contact minimal - since you also think it would be overwhelming for her case, contrary to her dripping and soaking the leather beneath her. The taste is already addicting, you have to hold yourself back from shoving your face into her and drink her chalice. Which would be the case had she not clamp her thighs around your head, tensing and untensing; both unbearable and all forgiving with her bucking hips. 

Her head is thrown back when your nose brushes her clit, biting down a finger. She’s cooing with your fingers teasing her entrance, with no resistance as you slip inside that slick. 

“You’re drenched, sweetheart,” you say. Minju is definitely not going to last. With her insides like silk and her walls clenching and unclenching around your finger, her heels are fighting to stay on the seat. She can’t stay still, eyes shut, jaw hanging open. Seething as your nose rubs her clit and you’re dragging a fingertip to one side and letting the pressure sever her legs - the reflex to them being tense through all the shudders and she could only hold for so long. 

“Yes, yes, yes, yes-” 

That doesn’t stop you from licking her clean, even with her hand tugging you off her cunt, shakily. You praise her by kissing her inner thighs and plant a mark before moving up to her stomach, rest your palms along her waist where it stops her stuttering breaths, trying to reset, recuperate. Get her seated before moving around and cradling her head, keep her comfortable and not where any craps would form - the best you could offer in such a cramped space. 

Both of your bodies are hot, and the leather is left with slick and sweat and Minju’s sweet wine, sticking to her skin. You wipe your chin with the butt of your palm and feel let the stubble capture the stray droplets. “Been wanting to do that since last time,” you tell her, placing a kiss on her forehead. “Should’ve just let me suffocate down there.” 

“Shut up,” Minju tells you, curling to your chest. She’s making you want to claim what’s yours, be possessive; let all of these devilish thoughts of her seeking for another person’s warmth or sighing into a mouth that isn’t yours, hear the sounds she makes with you. It’s eating you apart on the inside - only for a second, that is - but you have her here and nobody else does. 

“I could’ve gone easier,” you go on, smirking as your mouth is back on her, paying no attention to Minju’s hands fast to your waistband. Prodding you to be barren like her and if she had a little more strength from cumming so much, she might’ve ripped off your pants in that instant. 

Her determination is something you have to keep getting used to. 

“Minju, we don’t-” 

“I know,” is all she says, biting her lip at the sight of your length resting between her legs. “But I want to.”

You nod. “Okay.” 

Her blessing is all you need to take care of the rest, guiding her one hand to grasp in one place where you’re holding the other. She just smiles into your face and works you up even more as payback for a couple minutes earlier. 

“I can’t believe this cock fucked my mouth up last time,” whispers Minju, just twisting the shaft and making you lose brain cells by the second. Her clumsiness is pretty much out the window, and back in control. “You’re sure you don’t want to shove this thick dick all the way down my throat? Get me real messy for it?” 

“Don’t push your luck,” you groan. An idea to save for later. 

Yet you don’t expect Minju to turn over, pushing herself up with shaking arms; get her palms and knees on the leather, her ass pressed to your groin. Sighing with relief and flipping her hair from one side to the other and with a peek past the shoulder - hooded eyes and everything - like she’s showing you what you have done to deserve her. 

Where your palm splays and pushes her down, granting the arch. A presentation. An offering. Something that God himself had wished he let his good-hearted soul fall into temptation for at least once. It makes your eyesight dizzy: seeing her bent over in the backseat, pussy wet and wanting. But you can’t stop holding yourself back. 

“Min,” you simply say, “Is this okay?” 

She nods in reply, pushing her body back with a deliberate grind of her wet folds to the underside that makes her smile through the absolute fuck of it. 

“There’s nothing more that I want,” she rasps as you toy her with just your tip. “Than for you to fill me up-” 

“Christ.” 

“-and just put me in my place like the naughty little girl you’ve made me become.” 

“We don’t have any history,” you tell her. “Not even in the slightest.” 

“And still.” 

The head of your cock goes in - just that first inch or two - a teaser. You shake. 

“I’m not saying no and neither are you.” She mutters. “Fuck.” 

“Just tell me if it hurts,” you instruct, but she’s just staring at your hands having way too much fun with her hips, that waist. Your hands feel heavy; so is your cock, leaning back with her ass stuck to your thighs, dragging your length to her folds, preparing. You’re certain she could feel you throb between her legs. And once that press finally opens her up, the line of her back sinks forward. “Oh, Jesus.” 

It’s way better than you remembered. God. How excruciatingly tight she was - all velvet and still gripping you vice-tight. Even the audible ‘sclick’ when you drag out for good measure, see the sheen over the ridge and veins. Minju’s holding her breath - knuckles going white as she’s gripping the door handle. It’s slow, the grace period to adjust and find your pace. Nothing more gratifying than to just ravage her ass and chase the heat - like you’d rather die here than to hurt her. 

Minju lets it sit for a minute, all the way down to the base. Rolling her hips around. She moves on her own accord, bending her legs lower to take you deeper. You don’t see her face wince, but the sounds coming out of her mouth encourage you to double down the efforts. “Please- just, let me fucking- god, this fucking cock-” 

She’s sighing, and then she’s moaning; you’re left in awe at the ripples her ass exhibits beneath the noir-like light coming from above. The slide back and forth, seeing your cock disappear and reappear from inside. Her hand slips from the handle, barely holding up by the elbows. Yeah, she wasn’t gonna last long from this. 

Your part fills in the spots where she fails, meeting her moving hips by thrusting with a little force. Not hard. The concept of patience is so important here. Staying firm so that she can throw herself back to your groin. Her head then goes slack. 

“Fuck yourself into me,” you moan in her ear, bent over and letting her have it bit by bit. “You’re so good. Feel amazing- shit-” You want to keep praising her, let that being from within compel you to tell her the things you don’t want to admit. Minju’s mouth drops low again. 

“Yes, yes-” her head turns until the profile is within your vision, breath faltering. “I wanted this- 

“Yeah?” 

“-all fucking day. All fucking week.” 

Anything would be good to hear her keep talking cock-drunk. 

“Your cock- fuck. It’s so good. I just wanted you to ruin me, so badly.”

“How badly?” You kiss her mid-thrust.

She shoves down a ‘very’ right through your throat. 

“That’s my good girl,” you say against her hips. Keeping the pace.

Oh, you know she loves the praise. When the attention is on her. Like the world stops for a second and acknowledge someone like her - the name, the notoriety, the status she exudes - but away from all the glittering lights and from her grooming mother, she’s  riddled down to this: a wobbling head and jerking with every slide in her cunt that sends shockwaves to the rest of her body. You loop a hand to her waist, pull her up to your chest, head leaned back to your collarbone and she’s trying to find some sort of brace; ends up placing a palm on the foggy window. 

Her slick back is flush with yours, her moans rising in octaves. She’s rebounding on your cock and trying her best to not buck over - her walls clamping and unclamping all the same. You pull out and give her these steady strokes, hard and deep, rocking her up with every inch she can possibly take. Minju chokes out a cough, lips to your ear, her hair spilled behind your shoulder, spilling down your neck as well. You kiss the space below the ear - get some of her sweat on your nose. 

Nothing. Could be ever more gratifying than having her like this. All to yourself. 

She’s got her fingers spread over the forearm at her waist, scratching. Something for you to loo over once all of this is finished. Minju’s just whimpering a river of meaningless words and tongues you can’t decipher. “Please, sir. Fuck- my pussy” for one among the few and “god, i can’t believe you- and this cock-” 

“I know, I know,” you’re breathless as ever and her cunt just feels incredible. 

You notice the slack in her neck and she can barely put up with the rhythm at this rate. Her whole body is putty - like she could mold with yours - as if she were a missing piece you’ve been searching for so long, all within arms reach. 

It didn’t really matter about the difference in class, or what she does, who her family is, the last name - it’s just her. Her. 

Minju’s dripping all over your cock that it spreads to your thighs. Taking it well and feeling the full weight of you tearing her insides. “You are- so good, it’s insane-” 

You don’t relent; not now, not ever. Even as her body stills and she’s got an inhale clutched to the teeth. She’s really loose and all she can really do is take these long, deep thrusts until the balls of her eyes roll back. “Minju, this pussy.” 

One more push breaks the shaking on her back, and she lurches forward. There it is again: she’s coming so far down that she’s laid flat on the backseat, helpless as everything crashes down on top of her. Through every wave and twitch and high-pitched whine that leaks out you’re certain that someone might’ve heard in the building nearby. Let it be the residing Father to discover such a sight of defilement - have you and her confess the sins you’ve committed on God’s doorstep. Besides, you’re one step closer to hell while heaven’s still a whole staircase away.  

“Can’t ever get enough,” she coughs out, just barely. You keep on pounding her ass and the pressure’s getting to that point. Fighting every last bit to hold it in, till it becomes unbearable and you’re following her to that high, that sweet chase. 

“Never,” you sigh. “Minju-” 

You flush your hips with her ass, and cum inside her just like that. 

The deep feeling never goes away, as the two of you are left shaking, with limbs tangled and sprawled on the ruined leather when you pull out. Minju’s turned to her side below you, caged by your frame and her arms are to her face. You kiss a shoulder and rub her waist, soothe the bruises and red marks left by your grip, sweeping a few hairs on her back as it’s suffocating your nose. She’s breathing, humming. A delight. “There’s no restraint from you,” she says, in disbelief. “God, that might be worrisome. I can hardly fathom how rough-”

“I try not to hurt you, love. Seriously, you’re a piece of work.” You tell her, stroking her hair. “If I really wanted it, I would’ve finished on your face.”

“You believed me when I said I was on the pill?” 

“Are you not?” 

Minju smirks. You don’t bother asking and focus on being wrung out in a sweat-slicked mess, sated and with the scent of sex filling the car. She shuffles a bit at your front and you just watch her over like some silent protector. That is, what you think you are, maybe. 

“Well,” you breathe, kissing her hair once again. “Minju? Minju.” 

She’s already fast asleep. 

–

“Over here?” 

“Yeah,” Minju points to the right of her, the car rolling along the street. “You can actually just stop right at the front.” 

The car quietly grinds to a halt at the front of a decently looking apartment complex. Which is a bit peculiar; y’know, considering a girl with so much on her bankroll, not to mention the repeating details- 

“Quaint.” you deduce, admiring the bronze glow of the streetlights above. “Not far from campus as well, too.” 

“Yep,” beams Minju. “It’s a friend of mine’s so you shouldn’t have to worry.” 

“Why would I worry?” You laugh. “What you do doesn’t faze me anymore.” 

She just kisses you, taking in your features one last time. “You’re right. Though-” 

“We should be more careful next time.” 

“Yeah, that.” 

You nick your head in lieu of saying ‘get on going’ and she takes the hint. “I’ll see you around, then?” 

Minju dips her head from outside, blinking. “I’ll be in touch.” 

She closes the door and starts to walk up the foyer.

And you just wish to be with her for a little while longer. 

-

(But the question begs: how long? 

How long until you have the capacity to tell her what you (already) know? When would be the next time? When you have to help clean her up and redress, take her back to a place that should be home, though it can’t since that home is tied up with a family name and a mother she can’t fight to escape from. 

Despite that, you’ll rest on the fact that it was nice to play pretend. To let her pretend to be someone without status, to make bad choices, eat at a froyo spot and not tell people to sit where they sit and do what they do. To make you pretend that you’re not alone and you’ll do much better without drinking your sorrows away. 

You’re not sure whether the future lead with her will be enough. 

Yet the past week and a half or two, of crossing paths with Minju, you decide that- 

It’ll be just enough.) 

"Ohh... Oh yes, right there Ji!"

Jiwoo stops her licking and glares up at Asa. "Ji? Do you want me to start calling you Ass?"

"Yes if you'll get back to work, Jiwoo."

Asa has to suppress a moan as Jiwoo gives her clit a petulant flick of her tongue—it's not be the first time she's received a tongue lashing from H2H's leader. The memberless arrangement was perfect—no risk of pregnancy (duh), no dealing with jealous fans (who ever got jealous that a girl group member was tonguing another girl group member's box on the regular?), and non-obvious arousal (Asa could have fun feeling Jiwoo up, and Jiwoo could go on stage and no one would be the wiser, but try that with a guy? Good luck performing with a tent in their pants!)

"Mm, right there," Asa gives a huff of approval at the lemonhead spearing her tongue into her, and Asa tries her best to keep her thighs from squeezing Jiwoo—the last time she had to explain why there's makeup on her thighs was not a fun one.

Not that Jiwoo needed the instructions. A deep plunge, a smudge of lipstick on her clit, a lick to clean it off, and Asa twitches, bucking her hips and gasping in a quiet climax.

Jiwoo never quite understood the other "member"-less part though, and asks Asa about it while she's fixing her clothes.

"Remind me again why you need me here? You have Ahyeon, and Ruka, and—"

"Of course you mention Ahyeon first," Asa's very slightly jealous and miffed about that. "Creates too much tension, too much potential to get messy. You get into an argument and you don't even have someone to get you off after to relieve the stress of the argument."

"And so... me?"

"We don't see each other enough to get into an argument, so it's perfect. Now bend over." Jiwoo leans forward over some boxes, taking a deep breath as Asa rubs her slit over the safety shorts. The breath catches in her throat, and the world swirls in her head as Jiwoo's Sweetly Leaking Inner Temple is Slowly Penetrated by Little Intrusive Touches.

"Wait, nails!"

"Oh don't worry Ji, I suggested to stylist-unnie that I can try having gloves on for the stage, so no nails, aren't you lucky." Asa twists her wrist, curling her two fingers and hooking into Jiwoo's sweet spot and instantly feeling her get wetter—if she isn't careful she'll have Jiwoo spewing Salty Lewd yet Illogically Tangy juices all over her outfit.

"N-No don't!" Jiwoo knows it too, and she looks back hurriedly, cheeks pink with arousal. Yet her pussy clenches as Asa pulls her fingers out, replacing it with a thumb on her clit. "Hnngh no, just put it back in!"

"Are you sure?" Jiwoo lewdly pulls her shorts to the side as far as she can, and Asa knows better than to stand directly behind her, in the spray zone. The fingers go back in, and Jiwoo's in a rush to gush, Asa helping her to quickly get there, until—

"Jiwoo unnie, Jiwoo unnie!"

No! Jiwoo's knees buckle as Asa's fingers disappear as quickly as they were in her, the click-clack of her heels already disappearing in the other direction. She quickly fixes her clothing before Stella can round the corner.

"There you are unnie! Is that Asa?"

"That's Asa sunbaenim to you, don't be rude." There's a dull throbbing inside Jiwoo, she was so close!

"What are you doing with our rival?"

"We're not rivals! We were coordinating when we could do a challenge."

"No unnie, this is a competition! Why are you so red? Are you feeling okay?" Stella tries to check on Jiwoo, but she's so sensitive anything might set her off at this point.

"Yeah, yeah, it's hot here. Let's go." Jiwoo takes a deep breath and sighs—time to get to work.

***

"Two hours please." Jiwoo slips a few bills under the counter.

"848. Have a good time." A bystander happens to turn their head as they walk by, spying two slim ladies grabbing the key and heading upstairs. Both had hoodies on and wore masks, but there was blonde hair peeking out the top from one of them.

Must be an idol, and two of them? Damn, whoever can get them up here must be rich. Lucky guy. They assume.

They assume wrong, however, and Jiwoo shoves Asa into the room in front of her.

"God I can't believe you edged me like that." Her lips are on Asa in an instant, hands already diving under her hoodie.

"Hey don't blame me, blame your member. If she hadn't come calling for you I would've made you cum all over the floor."

"Don't. Remind. Me." Asa was happy to play along with Jiwoo's neediness, somehow getting naked faster than Jiwoo as the latter tangles herself in her own clothes. Asa leans back on the pillow and watches—it was rare to see Jiwoo act up this badly.

"Come on, hold still." Asa tugs the hoodie up and over Jiwoo's blonde hair, and Jiwoo's wearing nothing but her bra underneath. "Really? You just go around town like that?"

"Shut up." Asa's ready to rise from the bed, to take her usual spot on top of Jiwoo, but she's stopped, a hand on her chest as Jiwoo kicks off her sweatpants and panties. "I want to be on top."

"Do you even know how to be on top?"

"Don't need to, seen you do it so many times." Asa doesn't mind the kissing at all, nor does she mind Jiwoo feeling her up, hands playing with her perky breasts, but all she feels below is... wriggling. "Fuck it isn't working."

"Come on, sit up, like you would on a cock, you do know where a cock is right?"

"Of course." Jiwoo plants herself right on Asa's hipline before seeing Asa's smirk and scooching herself down a little, leaving a trail of her slick on Asa.

"Now grab my knees, and push them towards me." Asa lets Jiwoo figure it out, keeping her thighs spread as a hint, and Jiwoo gets it half right, hands pressed on the back of Asa's knees. "You need to come closer." Asa takes said hands and pulls them towards her, letting Jiwoo's elbows hook her own knees. "Familiar?"

"Y-Yeah." It's a little foreign to be on top, but between Asa looking cute underneath her and her own yet-to-be-satisfied needs she's just waiting for the touch she needs to get started. "Now what?" She lets herself be led.

"Now drop your hips lower and keep pushing on my knees. You won't hurt me, so push." Jiwoo does as she's told, and at a certain point Asa's hips roll up, and both of them gasp at the sensation, lower lips brushing against one another. Awkwardly Jiwoo bucks down into Asa, but the friction is fleeting, just enough to tease Jiwoo but not enough to get her off, and Asa finally gives in. "You don't remember how I do it at all do you?"

"What? Isn't this how you did it?" Truth be told Jiwoo often felt too good when she was the one on her back, and she barely paid attention to what Asa was doing, as long as it made her cum, which was always. Asa straightens her legs, slipping one between Jiwoo's.

"Come on, hold the other leg." Asa rests it on Jiwoo's shoulder and twists her hips, giving Jiwoo much easier access to her pussy. "Now grind." Asa smirks as Jiwoo's mouth drops open, discovering how to properly fuck another girl for the first time. "That's it, good girl." Jiwoo can only manage a whine, already not paying attention to Asa and chasing the pleasure coursing through her. Asa begins to help her along, bucking against her, the two of them scissoring like a well-slicked machine, which Jiwoo is providing in abundance. Her breaths are short as her hair and getting shorter by the moment, but she's gasping and flagging, beginning to run out of energy, so Asa takes matters into her own fingers.

Jiwoo doesn't even notice Asa leaning forward until too late, grabbing her by the hips with one hand and shoving two fingers deep into her pulsing core. Roughly she shoves her fingers back and forth. It hits Jiwoo all at once, and a primal grunt is all she can let out before she gushes.

"Huh— Nnghk!" Warm juice squirts out of Jiwoo violently, and it's directed right at Asa's own swollen lips. It catches Asa by surprise, like a showerhead pointed at her pussy suddenly turned on, and the "water" pressure is enough to trigger Asa's own climax, her thighs suddenly tightly shut and belly taut, a delightful moan on her lips as she feels Jiwoo continue to spray against her own twitching lips.

"Oh god, oh my god..." When Jiwoo's done she slumps on the bed, thighs soaked with slick, body burning from actively scissoring Asa for the first time. She feels her body being dragged down the bed, back towards Asa, and she whimpers when something hot is against her pussy again—Asa's own core. Asa gives it one good grind before pulling herself up and over Jiwoo.

"You did good."

"Did you cum?"

"Mmhmm, you were very hot." Asa kisses Jiwoo hard. "So hot I want to see it again." Asa shows Jiwoo how it's properly done, and this time Jiwoo watches her intently, eyes glued to the way Asa's belly piercing twinkles in the dim light as she moves back and forth on top of her. Asa leans forward, getting Jiwoo to twist her hips and lift her legs slightly—now she's being fucked sideways, feeling their combined juices flow on to her thigh, lewd tang sticky on her skin.

"Asa... Oh my god." Jiwoo hooks her slim waist with her knee, urging Asa to grind faster, she's so close again! The little whine she lets out when Asa stops is utterly devastating, and Asa wanted nothing more to give Jiwoo what she wants. She slides down the bed, planting herself in a familiar spot—right between Jiwoo's legs.

"Hnngh!" Two fingers are shoved unceremoniously into Jiwoo, and Asa begins moving them up and down, as if doing a specific movement about two specific digits, strumming against her g-spot. She licks and sucks on Jiwoo's Swollen Little Intimate Tip, her clit engorged and eager for attention. Jiwoo's already tensing, ready to explode, and Asa tries something new, pressing a thumb into Jiwoo's Significantly Less Used Tunnel.

"Asa, oh Asa, As— AHHHH!" Jiwoo proceeds to lose her voice, her mind, and every argument she has with Asa going forward—Jiwoo would let her win every argument if Asa can make her cum like this! Down between her legs Asa's ears are ringing from Jiwoo's scream, no doubt piercing through the entire hotel. The thought of the headline, "Babymonster Asa and Hearts2Hearts Jiwoo cause a noise complaint in a love hotel" gets Asa desperate to add to the noise complaint, and with a mouth full of and leaking Jiwoo's Lemon Tang she gets herself off, screaming into Jiwoo's muff as she rubs her own clit to a wet climax. Every gush from Jiwoo seems to trigger a spray from Asa, the sheets rapidly soaking in their pleasure.

When Asa gathers herself, all she can feel is two hands on her skull, dragging her up Jiwoo's twitching body. The two of them look at each other, and both of them are convinced they look more ruined than the other, and they try to make things equal, lips crushing against one another, sweat and juices be damned. They go one for one, matching angry red hickeys on their necks before the haze clears.

"That was fucking amazing." All Jiwoo can manage is a rasp, voice in tatters from her cry.

"I'll tell the stylist to give me gloves from now on."

*Bzzzz*

They both hear their phones buzzing, it was time to go.

"Asa?"

"Hm?"

"I can't feel my legs."

"Me neither."

"Let's just lie a little longer then." Asa allows herself to get cuddled for once—Jiwoo's hand running through her hair was kinda nice.

The two of them finally stagger out of the love hotel, no doubt reeking of sex, a patch on their necks barely hiding what they were up to.

"What are you going to tell the members?" The usual question they ask each other.

"Just some guy I met." The usual answer.

"They're gonna ask 'Is he an idol?'" The usual follow-up.

"Maybe." The usual follow-up answer.

"See you next week?"

"Mmhmm."

And no one's the wiser.

“C’mon,” he teased. “Prove me wrong. Or admit I’m right—idol or not, you’re just a girl who can’t handle a real man.”

Her pride snapped. She shot him a glare so hot it could’ve burned the desk. “Five minutes, huh? Fine. Don’t choke when you lose.”

He leaned back, unzipping his pants, his cock springing free half-hard. “Clock starts when you start.”

Ahyeon knelt, muttering under her breath. “I cannot believe I’m doing this for my group’s name…” She wrapped her hand around him, stroking slow, her pout deepening. “You’re gross.”

“Yet here you are,” he mocked, groaning as her tongue slid along the underside. “Idol Ahyeon, on her knees.”

She narrowed her eyes, sucking his tip with a sharp pop. “Shut up. I’m only doing this so you’ll stop running your mouth.”

Her lips slid down his shaft, cheeks hollowing, spit glistening as she pulled back with a wet slurp. His groan slipped out, and she smirked against him. “Mmm. Thought I wasn’t hot?”

“Fuck…” He chuckled between moans. “Still not hot. Just—goddamn—good at this.”

She bobbed faster, hand stroking his base, spit dripping onto his balls. Then, with a mischievous glance up at him, she pulled off, spitting into her cleavage and pressing his cock between her tits.

“Not hot, huh?” she teased, bouncing her chest, his shaft sliding between her perky tits slick with spit. “Say it again.”

He groaned louder, gripping the desk for balance. “Shit—you’re still average. Just… filthy for an idol.”

Ahyeon giggled around him as she leaned in, sucking the head while squeezing her tits tighter. “Filthy’s better than boring.”

He was shaking now, his cock twitching as she switched moves—one moment titfucking, the next swirling her tongue around his tip, the next licking slowly from his balls to his head, moaning exaggeratedly just to mock him.

“Tick-tock,” she teased between licks. “Five minutes, right? Already sweating, oppa.”

His head fell back, groaning, “Fuckkk, Ahyeon—you’re insane—”

“Mm, say it louder,” she purred, sucking hard on his tip before shoving him deep down her throat until she gagged. She pulled off, strings of spit connecting her lips to his cock. “Say my group’s worthless again, I dare you.”

He lasted seconds more before his cock jerked in her hands. With a final moan, he spilled across her face and uniform, white streaks staining her cheeks, lips, and collar.

Ahyeon sat back, wiping cum from her lashes, glaring up at him with a playful pout. “You’re disgusting.”

He grinned down at her, panting. “Yeah? You still swallowed half.”

She flicked cum off her shirt, scrunching her nose. “Gross. Bet I still looked hot doing it though.”

He smirked, cock still twitching. “Hot enough to win the bet.”

Ahyeon stood, tugging down her ruined uniform top, cum still streaked across her cheek. She should’ve stormed out and left him panting in the detention room. She should’ve pretended none of it happened.

But she didn’t.

Instead, she smirked, lifted her skirt, and hooked her thumbs under her panties, dragging them down slow until the damp strip of cotton clung to her thighs. She stepped out of them, tossed them on his desk, and spread her legs just enough to make him swallow hard.

Her pussy glistened, wet from the blowjob she swore she hated giving.

“Your turn,” she said, voice low but smug. “Fair’s fair.”

He blinked, stunned. “Wait—you’re serious?”

She tilted her head, hands on her hips, eyes sharp but playful. “I just let you cum all over my face, oppa. You think I’m leaving here without getting mine?”

He laughed nervously, cock twitching even though he’d just emptied himself. “You’re crazy.”

“Crazy hot,” she corrected, stepping between his legs. She planted a knee on the desk and leaned in, grabbing a fistful of his hair to pull his head back. “Eat. Or I tell everyone an idol sucked you off in detention.”

His smirk faltered. “That’s blackmail.”

“That’s femdom,” she shot back, pressing her soaked pussy against his lips.

At first he resisted, lips tight, but she ground against him with a sharp roll of her hips, smearing wetness across his mouth. “Don’t make me say it again. I want your tongue.”

Finally, his lips parted. His tongue flicked tentatively against her slit.

Ahyeon moaned softly, eyes fluttering shut, thighs squeezing his head. “Mmm, that’s better. Good boy. Keep going.”

She rolled her hips, riding his face, one hand tangled in his hair, the other squeezing her own tit through her bra. Every lick made her wetter, dripping down his chin onto his collar.

He groaned against her, muffled, and she laughed breathlessly. “Oh, don’t act like you don’t love it. You called me average, remember? Not so average now, huh?”

Her moans grew louder, shameless, bouncing against the empty classroom walls. “Ahhh—fuck, right there—yes, oppa, eat it like you mean it—”

She pressed down harder, grinding against his mouth, using him like a toy. Her clit rubbed his tongue with every motion, her pussy trembling.

Then she yanked his hair back, panting, sweat shining on her chest. “Lick my ass too. Or are you too scared?”

His eyes widened, but she only smirked, pushing back until his tongue traced lower. She moaned wickedly, rocking against his face. “That’s it. Bet you didn’t think detention would end like this.”

At first he resisted, lips tight, but she ground against him with a sharp roll of her hips, smearing wetness across his mouth. “Don’t make me say it again. I want your tongue.”

Finally, his lips parted. His tongue flicked tentatively against her slit.

Ahyeon moaned softly, eyes fluttering shut, thighs squeezing his head. “Mmm, that’s better. Good boy. Keep going.”

She rolled her hips, riding his face, one hand tangled in his hair, the other squeezing her own tit through her bra. Every lick made her wetter, dripping down his chin onto his collar.

He groaned against her, muffled, and she laughed breathlessly. “Oh, don’t act like you don’t love it. You called me average, remember? Not so average now, huh?”

Her moans grew louder, shameless, bouncing against the empty classroom walls. “Ahhh—fuck, right there—yes, oppa, eat it like you mean it—”

She pressed down harder, grinding against his mouth, using him like a toy. Her clit rubbed his tongue with every motion, her pussy trembling.

Then she yanked his hair back, panting, sweat shining on her chest. “Lick my ass too. Or are you too scared?”

His eyes widened, but she only smirked, pushing back until his tongue traced lower. She moaned wickedly, rocking against his face. “That’s it. Bet you didn’t think detention would end like this.”

Her thighs shook, pussy clenching. She leaned back, riding his tongue shamelessly, words tumbling out between moans. “Ahhh—fuck, I’m gonna cum—keep going, don’t stop—ahhh oppa, eat it alllll~”

Her orgasm hit hard, squirting against his lips, soaking his chin and shirt. She collapsed forward, hands braced on his shoulders, panting, sweat-damp hair sticking to her cheeks.

She looked down at him, his face dripping with her slick. “Guess I’m hotter than average after all.”

He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, dazed. “You’re insane.”

Ahyeon was still catching her breath, still smirking through the aftershocks of her orgasm, when he stood. His shadow loomed over her, his cock heavy, flushed, still slick from her spit.

She looked up at him with that bratty grin, cheeks flushed, hair sticking to her face. “What, detention boy? You gonna just stand there with that thing wagging at me?”

He grinned, sliding his cock against her pussy through her skirt, teasing the wet fabric until she gasped. Her smirk faltered, eyes locking with his.

Neither spoke.

And then he shoved her skirt up, pushed her panties aside, and slid in.

Her back slammed against the desk, papers scattering. She yelped, legs flying up as he drove into her with a single thrust.

“Ahhh—fuckkkk!” she cried, clutching the edge of the desk as his cock split her fresh pussy, walls squeezing tight around him.

He groaned, bending over her, face inches from hers. “Knew you were dripping for this.”

Her nails scratched his shoulders, her bratty smirk cracking into shameless moans. “N-nooo—you’re just—ahhh—fucking roughhh~”

Every thrust made the desk squeal across the floor. Her tits bounced under her uniform blouse, buttons straining until one popped, flashing the swell of her bra. He bent, biting her nipple through the fabric, making her squeal.

“Louder,” he growled, pounding harder.

She arched her back, her voice breaking, shameless now. “Ahhh—fuckkk oppaaa—yes yes yes—”

He dragged her up, spinning her to the chalkboard, pressing her tits against the cold surface. Chalk dust smeared her cheek as his cock slid back inside from behind.

She moaned into the wall, palms flat against it, ass slapping against his hips. “Godddd—it’s so dirty—detention’s not for thisss~”

“Sure it is,” he mocked, pounding her harder, pulling her hair back to make her arch. “Detention’s for teaching brats their place.”

Her eyes rolled, spit dripping down her chin as her cries echoed. “I-I’m nottt—a brattt—ahhh—”

Her pussy clenched around him, wetter with every thrust, juices dripping down her thighs. He slapped her ass, watching it ripple against the board.

“You’re dripping like you love it,” he hissed, fucking harder.

“Shut uppp—fuckkkk—you’re making me—ahhhhhh~” She squirted weakly against the wall, her body betraying her, sliding down the chalk-dusted surface.

He caught her before she collapsed, dropping into a chair and pulling her onto his lap. She straddled him, his cock sliding in deep, filling her to the hilt.

Her eyes went wide, lips trembling. “Ohhh—fuckkk—it’s so deep sitting like thisss~”

Her tits spilled as he ripped her blouse open, her bra askew. She covered her chest instinctively, but he yanked her arms away.

“Don’t hide. Ride me.”

She whimpered, rocking her hips slowly at first, grinding her clit against his pelvis. Then faster, bouncing in his lap, tits slapping against his chest.

Her moans were shameless now, her bratty voice turning sing-song between gasps. “Mmm yes yes—just like thatttt~ feels too fucking gooddd~”

He groaned, sucking her nipple into his mouth, teeth grazing. “Fuck, Ahyeon—you’re gonna make me cum like this.”

She smirked through her moans, grinding harder, her pussy milking him. “Good. Do it. Bet you can’t last if I fuck you back.”

Her orgasm ripped through her, squirting across his thighs as she moaned into his mouth, kissing him filthy. Her thighs were still trembling, her pussy swollen and dripping, when he slid back inside her slow. This time there was no pounding, no desk rattling, no sharp smack of skin.

Just deep, slow thrusts. His cock dragging along her soaked walls, pressing every spot, filling her until her toes curled.

She clung to him, sweaty palms sliding down his back, nails grazing. Their foreheads touched, lips brushing, moans slipping out between breaths.

“Fucking brat,” he muttered, grinding deeper, making her gasp.

She smirked through her moans, chest rising and falling. “Jerk… you’re just mad I made you cum so fast earlier.”

He kissed her hard, biting her lip, muffling her laugh. “Still came inside this tight little pussy. Bet you’ll be dripping me all week.”

Her giggle cracked into a moan, her hips rolling up to meet him. “Mmm—maybe I’ll let you. Better than peanut butter.”

His thrusts grew slower, deeper, each one deliberate, each one pulling a louder cry from her. Their eyes locked, both of them trying to hold the upper hand, both of them losing it with every moan.

“Say it,” he whispered, hips grinding. “Say you love this.”

Ahyeon tilted her head back, biting her lip, her bratty smile breaking into a cry. “F-fuck—you’re such a jerk—ahhh—”

Her pussy clenched hard around him, soaking his cock as her orgasm ripped through her, squirting weakly against his thighs. He groaned, pumping harder, until his cock pulsed deep inside her, spilling hot, thick cum into her womb.

They both shook, cumming together, her nails digging crescent moons into his skin as he groaned into her mouth.

He pulled out slow, his cum spilling from her pussy onto the floor. Ahyeon collapsed on her back, hair wild around her face, tits rising and falling as she tried to catch her breath.

But he wasn’t done.

He straddled her chest, cock slick with their mess, hovering over her lips. She pouted up at him, bratty even now. “Seriously? After all that? You’re disgusting.”

He smirked, tapping his cock against her cheek. “And you’re still gonna clean me.”

Her eyes rolled, but she opened her mouth anyway, taking him in slow, licking his length like candy.

Her hands slid to her tits, squeezing them together, teasing him with the sight of her body as she sucked. Her nipples were stiff, her chest glistening with sweat, her bratty little moans humming around his cock.

He groaned, looking down at her naked body, spread out on the dirty classroom floor, tits squeezed and bouncing as she serviced him.

“Fuck, Ahyeon. You’re such a dirty brat.”

She pulled off just long enough to smirk up at him, lips shiny with spit. “Maybe. But you’re still the jerk who fell for it.”

It is what it is.

You are but a man, a living being: flesh, blood, pulse; an internet connection and access to hyper-zoomed photos and slow-motion fancams and excessive manifestos on Chou Tzuyu's legs and Chou Tzuyu’s waist and Chou Tzuyu’s perfect dimples and smile and the golden-ratio proportions; the S-curve, the hourglass of her; none of which get as straight to the point as these carefully curated comments:

notice me mommy

pleeease sit on my faaace

let me dieeeee between those thighs good looooooorrrrdddd

(Or, for the cinephiles: the quote-tweet of a poorly composited clip; one side—Tzuyu shaking ass, the other—a GIF from Mad Max: Fury Road of the guy jumping off a speeding truck yelling WITNESS MEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!

But you know what?

Fuck yeah: witness you, indeed.)

Witness you now, camped out in her dressing room—your home for the past fifteen minutes—listening to the roar of tens of thousands of people bleed through concrete and steel while you wait with your VIP pass and your fast-fracturing patience and your cock heavy and in a far worse state than it was backstage at the Victoria’s Secret show; that had Tzuyu in a number that pushed her tits up so delightfully it crashed their whole website; shopping carts flooded by wishes for cleavage that could look half as glorious as hers.

And then she's there, or here, and you're drafting a manifesto of your own.

“Baby—” is how Tzuyu starts, and all it gets her is a hand around her waist, fingerprints pressed into sweat-slicked muscle, and she just goes with it—lets herself be reeled through the threshold and spun into you until the arrangement goes: 1) the door, 2) her body, 3) your cock, 4) you.

“Hell of a show,” you coo into her ear, pulling out the shiver she's kept coiled tight just for this moment—a pressure valve, a controlled detonation, released the second your thumb presses into the meat of her thigh.

“Baby—” again, and your girl is burning up: stage-lights hot, dimpled cheeks gone rosy red, flushed throat to sternum, wrapped up in what is just a feat of costume design and structural engineering and frankly the pinnacle of human craftsmanship: the leather corset cinched around her chest, doing theological work with her tits; the matching hot-pants sealed over her thighs (likely had to be poured on earlier, left to set, that's the only possibility); the knee-high boots she is absolutely not going to be able to walk out of here in.

She leans anyway—gracing you with more room to work in, rolling herself against you, because there's a countdown until you both have to clear the stadium and it's only hard and fast from here on out.

(Don't concern yourself with whatever wreckage survives into the aftermath, you're not going to see this room ever again, anyway.

Well. Until next tour.)

“Need a minute?” You're busy taking stock: the rapid shallow breaths, the copper-spun hair matted to skin, the sweat tracing her collarbone and running rivers to places you'll find the end of soon.

Tzuyu tilts her chin up, cocks an eyebrow. That stadium-filling smile. So ruthlessly, indiscriminately gorgeous. Real breath-taker, soul-stealer, habitual cock-hardener; your girlfriend (you lucky, lucky fucker). Another grind of her hips against you finds you stretching. “Could you even wait a minute?”

“No, but I thought I'd be polite and ask.” You shrug, bump your hips back, far less graceful and subtle than the little ditty she pulled off; through your denim, dragging across her abs, a point of punctuation on her body. “Consent and all.”

“Oh?” She laughs; small, private, non-transferable to anyone outside this room. Rises on her toes so the tip of your cock drags down to where she actually wants it, takes your face in both hands. “Is this something I'll need to consent to?”

“Just your standard offer for concert aftercare,” you deadpan. “Very exclusive. One provider.”

“That's funny. I don't remember subscribing.”

“Opt-out situation,” you tell her, lips finding the exact junction where salt and sweet meet on her neck. She sighs, end-to-end. “Really have to read the fine print.”

“You know how I am with that sort of stuff.” And it's really something; your Tzuyu underneath everyone else's Tzuyu—stage-beautiful but zero performance left in those to-die-for cheekbones; just her, released and free, origami in your hands, folding like she was always going to—a swan, some sort of songbird, or maybe simply a fucking lawn chair, if permitted. “You get your hands on me and I just can't help but say yes.”

Tzuyu: dressed like this and saying shit like that.

Yes, you both are embarrassingly, irretrievably, categorically gone over each other; and it's your problem, and hers, you've both long made peace with it, ready to be buried in clearly marked graves, side-by-side: here lies Chou Tzuyu and her secret boyfriend who fucked each other well and truly to death.

So, of course you're going to kiss her.

Lips on hers—same every time, new every time—her sighs feeding into your lungs, hands fisting in your shirt, hips translating heat into friction. Her tongue finding yours in ceremonial greeting; sparking up the sign outside, reading: occupied, all yours, always been yours, you just had to show up and smile.

And it's the release from her, all of it: everything that's been pulled taut since soundcheck, since this morning; each glance she's had to swallow, instinct suppressed by choreography and professionalism and forty thousand watching eyes.

The kiss compounds, stacks on stacks. Her leg lifts, hooks behind your shin, grinds the core of her against you—more, wanting more.

You stop yourself. Pull your lips free. The whimper that follows is pitchy and involuntary and criminally cute.

Her bottom lip wobbles, doing its intended and well-documented work on your heart.

“Why?” she asks—genuine, adorable, the whole bullshit shebang—how could you ever deprive an angel like this of such an innocent/filthy carnal desire?

You peel her hands from your neck, leaving them at her sides. Like a good girl, she waits.

Then you slide down to your knees.

The sound she makes could shatter something; it settles for the room's acoustics, forces it into submission, bends it over a knee.

“Ah,” she exhales. “That's why.”

Hotter down here. Always is: down-lights been baking her all night and it radiates off every inch, and at this distance—breathing her in, flooding your airways with the tangy-sugary-rock-salt-fucking-umami-scented compound of Tzuyu after three hours on a lit stage, the heat pooling thickest right at the deep crease where her legs meet. Coherent thought exits the building, it was never given a backstage pass, and the inside of her knee gets an open-mouth kiss—she nearly keels over completely, hands scrabbling for your hair.

“Oh God—” and you can hear the laugh underneath it, the perpetual disbelief at how fast she comes apart. “You have no idea how long I've been thinking about this.”

“I have some idea.”

“Your fault,” she says, and her voice fractures on it—”oh—standing at the barricade, staring at me the whole time; you have a problem you know—always looking at my—”

“Precisely.”

(And permit the detour: just to pontificate about Tzuyu's thighs because they warrant it.

Her thighs are strong. Belonging to both the Goddess and the statue depicting her—inspired by myths, carved out of marble—everyone gets to see the output; nobody gets to feel the mechanism but you. Thousands of hours of training and dancing condensed into lean muscle that locks on either side of your skull and could, if you don't hurry up and get on with it, end you.

But you're with the manifestos on this one—it'd be a perfect way to go. Heat coming off them in waves, obscene against your lips, all that tension gone soft and pliant the second your mouth's on her, flexing when she likes something, gripping when she likes it more—under your palms, against your jaw, clamping over your ears; two years deep and not one degree cooler about it.

Glory, glory, hallelujah.)

Your tongue drags higher. Slow. Taking stock along that honey-gold strip of skin. She tenses under your mouth—quads jumping—and her fingers in your scalp go from grip to claw.

She breathes, “You're unbelievable.”

“I've been told.”

“There's other places for your lips besides my legs you know—ah—”

The rest dissolves: you're busy running your tongue along the seam where leather draws a strict border against the plush of her thigh, finding the points where she's holding the most tension, that make her hips buck up, where the fabric is already warm and damp and about to get so much worse.

It earns you a warning: “You need to get these pants off me.”

“Give me a second.”

“You've had all night—”

“Shh.”

“Shh?”

“Let me appreciate you.”

“That’s what the concert was for, honey—”

“No, that was for everyone else,” you correct her, breathe it straight into the leather. “This—” You make a show of it, the séance you’re performing on your knees, spellbound by the tightest leather on the sweetest body. “These—are for me.”

She manages, barely, “Always.”

You nod, reverently. “So. Shorts. Stay on. For now.”

Tzuyu goes quiet. Breath hitches. Oh, she knows what it means, what you want. It moves through her, settles deep, has her relaxing against the door, parting her legs. “Fine.”

Hands hold her cheeks, digging in, the type of shit you revel in; putting your girl through this. Getting closer, deeper in that crevice, slowly, slowly, slow—until her thighs slap against your cheeks, a clapperboard calling action.

And then you put your mouth on leather. On her.

Sighs—turning into unhinged, sloppy sounds—eke through the gap between her thighs and your ears, knees drawing you in, lethal force, and this is one for the history books, something Darwinian, maybe that grave only has room for one; here lies you, suffocated with the biggest pussy-eating grin on your face, found choking on leather and your girlfriend's cum.

Zero complaints there, anyway.

“Oh fuck—”

“Quiet,” you say into her folds, even though experience tells you this word has had little success with Tzuyu; but, honestly, whatever fuels the kink.

“Trying—” she gasps, hips rolling against your face, proving your point. “But you've got a mouthful of my cunt and you're telling me to keep it down?”

“Mostly leather,” you hedge, but Tzuyu really is grinding hard—hard enough that the heat cuts sharp and precise. Press harder, force out more of these keens, ‘til she has to muffle herself with the back of her own hand.

Kneeling at her altar, getting where she's hottest—tongue dragging up and down the inside, lathering under the seams, working into the gap and getting torturously close; wetness already leaking through, running down; scoop it all up, suck it down, drink your holy communion and cherish every drop.

Exactly what she deserves (Tzuyu, the outfit, these thighs). So, so sensitive, it's so rude—a flicker of your tongue, a press of your lips, pure filth rumbled against her skin and she's gasping, writhing, the idol outline breaking, reconstructing into a shape a bit more pliable, dissolving into a soaked, sweat-drenched mess.

“It's always so easy for you isn't it? Hate how good it is—” and it comes out as a whimper, pleasant, tipsy slurring as Tzuyu's voice pitches higher, higher than please, for God's sake, keep it down this time; the very polite request Nayeon made that you fully intend to break.

Has you questioning the thickness of the door, reminiscing about Osaka, the last stop, when Tzuyu got so obscenely loud that Jeongyeon herself burst in to see if her group's dearly beloved youngest was being murdered—only to be yelled at: get the fuck out, he's killing me with his cock.

These thoughts get pocketed, to be added to later.

Nose pressing hard into the peak of her pussy—taking a long, selfish inhale; fingers holding firm against the muscle, lifting her ass off the door so she can sink further down your face.

“Please,” and she's getting desperate, fingers knotting in your hair, trying to hoist you in. “Take them off—I need your mouth on me, I need to feel you—”

“Not yet,” you tell her again, but she blathers on and on—how Tzuyu always gets—at her best and her worst; a bundle of needs arranged in a neat hierarchy, scratch that: it's just a fucked up ouroboros with your tongue at the beginning and the end and her thick thighs and her full-lipped cunt being looped through in the middle of it all.

With your mouth on her, it always is. Sucking bruises into her long legs, taking the skin between your teeth, marking the softest parts on her body, your declarations, her medals she gets to wear later—this is mine, this belongs to me; next concert she'll be forced into shorts cut far too high to hide them. The idea of it, the zoom on the lenses, the high-definition rendering; they'll see it and they'll figure it out: this goddess belongs to someone.

Her mantra confirms it: “Fuck-fuck-fuck-fuck-pleaaaase—”

You don't slow—not yet—not until she's writhing against the wall and her thighs are clenching and unclenching around your head in a rhythm to match the high and whorish sounds slipping from her mouth. You can hear her start to weep, but her cunt is sprouting tears far quicker; against your chin, down your neck, soaking into the collar of your shirt—you haven't even touched her properly yet.

You'll correct that.

You leave her with one final, deliberate, hard suck of your lips against your favourite bruise. Leave the skin red and glowing with your spit. One gratuitous slap against the curves spilling from the back of her shorts, just to see the ripple.

Then you stand.

Tzuyu blinks slow, can't quite land it. She'd glare if she could aim it—slumped against the doorway, fixing on your lips—shiny, wrecked from your project on her thighs—to drag herself level.

Two fingers under her chin, tilting her face until she's looking at you, meeting your eyes—all that dazed awe pointed straight at you. A nod at the vanity in the corner. “Get over there. Turn around. Bend over. Hands on the counter.”

Tzuyu doesn't say a word. Barely breathes.

Bites her lip, nods, and stumbles her way over.

You track her—flushed, a little disappointed that you left enough integrity in her knees to make the trip. The wobble in her limbs, the stripe of sweat running down her spine, the small of her back, disappearing beneath the leather.

Your girl, your performer, your one and only idol; the most out of this world, hand to God, strike you down where you stand, beautiful woman you've ever been in the vicinity of. The outfit on its way to ruin: tight leather still doing its heroic work against her sweaty tits, hot-pants finding darker shades; midnight stained vantablack from your mouth, from her leaking through; hair coming loose—hours to build, minutes to take apart.

She braces herself on the counter, falling forward until her hands land with a soft thump. The mirror stretches across the wall in front of her, fogged slightly at the edges from the heat churning through the room, and she spots you staring through the glass. Gives you a show, whether she means to or not.

You watch her watch you in the reflection—the instinctual arch of her back as you step closer, habit pushing her ass out to receive you. Hands find her hips, thumbs into the sublime belt of skin above the waistband.

A push here and she preens.

Lips back where they belong; dragging up her spine, her throat, up the columns of temples built by worship alone, feeling the foundations, the muscles tense and flex underneath.

Closer and closer, slurping the sticky-sweetness pooling at the crevasse of her neck and shoulder, setting up camp under her ear, before pitching lower to drag over her jaw, her lips slacking open by themselves and you're going to wedge inside—

“Hurry.”

You breathe into her mouth, “What do you need?”

“You,” she sighs, an exhale, a relief. A kiss atop her chin, the tightening of your grip. She knows it's not enough. “Your mouth. Your hands. Wherever. Everywhere.”

“Everywhere? I've only got the two.” Hands drift higher, up her sides, around her back, slowly, torturously slow, working the lacing loose. Not for need of effort—you've long since learned your way around bobby-pins and double-sided tape and enough knots to make you a certified sailor.

“Anywhere—my—”

The final string comes undone. A shrug has the straps off her shoulders and the corset falling, pasties dropping with it. Leaving her bare from the waist up, and you get indulgent with it, take your time. Look up, into the mirror, take it in. Only for a second.

Accounting for all the best decisions in your life, and every past life too; rewards for time spent in previous reincarnations possibly as some celibate monk achieving enlightenment; only to find in the next leap that true nirvana is actually between Tzuyu's legs.

This current incarnation has you discovering exactly how far down the flush goes, splitting the difference between her breasts; the same ones that fill your hands, splay through your fingers—and they rise and fall, shrill inhales making them heave, nipples pebbling at just a brush of your fingertips.

And Tzuyu, finding her words, the simple, single-syllable vocabulary she has for you: “There—more—yes.”

Toying with them, flicking the peaks, waiting for the right stiffness to pinch. Sharp enough to make her hiss, then ask: “Enough for you?”

“God no,”—loud, decisive, helpless. A demand underneath a laugh. “Your cock. My pussy is literally in tears right now.”

You laugh into her shoulder.

“Weeping. It's so tragic.”

“But does it deserve it?”

“I don't—” and she checks your reflection, honestly considering it. “I don't know. But I do know what I'll do to you if we don't shut it up with your cock in the next minute, and it'll be significantly worse than what you're planning.”

That's more than enough of an answer. You step back, admire the damage. “We'll see about that.”

And the gasp when you free yourself—the button, the zipper, the jeans—because she's been so lost in herself that she's only just realising how much of an entire situation it's been for you since the very start.

You catch it all: the drag of her tongue over her lips, the bite that follows. The shudder, the pupils flooding dark when she sees you.

You say, “You did this.”

“Are you ever not so—” She fumbles, forgetting her words when she watches you step closer, resting the length of you atop her ass with a definitive slap. “So full.”

You lift her, adjust her so she's as tall as she can be—the heels help but don't have her quite high enough for your nefarious ideas; you hold her whole weight in your hands.

She reads your mind, tilts her head back against your shoulder and says, “Go on. Take me.”

Reaching around, popping the button of her shorts, the shudder as you drag them down, her drenched panties with them—over the swell of her hips, down her thighs, force them over the boots until she can kick them off and land them somewhere behind you.

And then it's just her, Tzuyu in knee-high boots and nothing else, long limbs bare and red and littered with your branding; red highlighted against cream, glistening from the slick and the spit.

You step forward, position, aim, level yourself with her. Thumbs press into her ass, parting the valley of her cheeks, edging her knees slightly apart. Fingers firm around her waist, holding her in place, the squeeze of her thighs.

You slide right between them.

“Oh my God—” Her head lifts, eyes clenched shut, fingers scrambling at the counter, knocking over all the pieces that helped put her together hours before, sending them tumbling to the floor. “Always so thick between my thighs.”

You groan, grunt, can't help it—the first slide is unholy. You see it all, watch it through the mirror; the head of your cock emerging from between her locked legs, coming out the other side slick and dark, and it's heat and softness and smooth all around, her cunt lathering you as you push through.

Slowly, carefully, the friction easing with every pass; the schlick sound of it filling the entire room.

“It's going to ruin me,” Tzuyu realises, feeling the way you throb between her, engorged and fighting against the grip of her muscles. “When this gets inside me it's going to fuck me up, isn't it?”

You pass by the rhetorical, focused on setting a rhythm. Something slow, paced, plenty of room to drag achingly along her cunt, let your cockhead push against her clit and force a bit of pressure with each thrust. And Tzuyu responds in kind, finds the motion at once—rolling her hips when you press forward, polishing your thickness with her juices, your cock properly lacquered and stained in budding girlcum.

“Your thighs,” you breathe into her ear, pulling her back against you, catching in the glass two people with unflinching grins on their faces, utterly fucked out of their minds. “Always showing them off, stadium after stadium, leaving them on everyone's mind. You know how many people are probably choking themselves over you right now, yeah?”

“I only care about one,” Tzuyu murmurs back, eyes blinking closed and open again, as if to double-check, maybe it's a dream, maybe the wrecked visage reflected in front of her is too blissful to be true—some bizzaro-doppelganger that just happens to look like her except in her sluttiest, most honest form; tall and proud and tits on display, nipples like pendulums with every thrust, swinging up and down.

“And look at them now. So perfect around my cock,” you grit out, her thighs twitching around you as if they have a mind of their own, pressing you in from either side, God. “It's genuinely insane.”

And the sigh, the quiver, the shudder when you tell her:

“You're made for this, Tzuyu.”

“I know,” she says, words turning into mud; formless, less coherent the more you push. “I know—it's so right. Feels so—fuck—you feel so good. This is all I've been thinking about since—”

“All show.”

“Before then,” and she smiles, laughs, because she has a secret she's been holding. “I knew it. Knew when they showed me this outfit. This ridiculous corset. Those tiny, tight shorts. I told the stylist straight away—this outfit is perfect.”

The smile, pure innocence concentrated into a lie that you almost believe. She rolls her ass back against you, dips her hips into that dangerous vector; the one where her thighs clench and angle your cock higher, where the head of your cock brushes against where she's most swollen, most shamelessly soaked; drinks down the look in your eyes when she does it again and again and again.

“Perfect to be ruined. Perfect to get fucked in. Perfect to make my thighs look so good for you.” The noise you thrust out of her next—a grunt, a throat cleared—enough to get the next words out clean: “Now tell me it was enough to get you to fuck me properly.”

You answer with speed—with force—pushing your cock right through, forcing her clit to flicker roughly, a guttural 'Christ'—from someone's lips—hers, yours, you can't parse it—as your hips piston right into her ass.

“Faster—I'm—” she starts, but you know; because you're melding at this point, sharing one mind, one slick, urgent rhythm that makes the vanity, the mirror, the bottles, the whole stadium seem to rattle.

Knuckles turn white, she's meeting you thrust for thrust now, pushing back against you; each and every time—cock slides through the squelch-smack-sploosh of it, head bumping against her clit, an obscene little kiss with each pass, a call met with a response in the form of a jerk or a whine or just the squeeze of her around you to let you know that yeah, she gets the message.

“Holy—close,” she gasps, grabbing the word and holding onto it like a lifeline—through the thrusting, the trembling thighs and ragged breaths and the way she's so wet your cock is just dripping with it. “So close, so close, don't stop—please—”

Not in a million fucking years.

You reach around, fill a palm with her tits, squeeze, pinch, bring her closer and twist just right to have her body in fits; a seizure that makes her knees buckle together and your vision blur for an instant—but it's enough.

She lifts up—higher, goes to the tops of her toes, as tall as her heels would allow, coming off your cock, letting the tip drag down to land at the centre of her, across her folds—settling against the only place it really belongs.

“Oh-wait-God-fuck-I'm-not—”

You pull her down, push right through that blistering-hot cumhole and thrust hard all the way in, full-length, every thick inch fed to her greedy cunt, and Tzuyu screams.

“God-yes-fuck-you—” and the expletives that follow, something filthy and loud that can't be stopped by any number of walls—and the one thought in your mind that isn't some variation of holy-shit-Tzuyu's-ridiculously-wet-cunt-is-choking-my-cock knows Nayeon's going to have some words about this later.

But her pussy pulses, fights your cock thrashing against its walls; Tzuyu snapping shut around you so hard you can barely move, and she cums and cums and cums; her head thrown back, hair draping over your shoulder; wailing, moaning, cursing your name and your cock and your ancestors and the fact that this is only the first time you've made her cum today and you owe her so, so much more.

Squeezing and wrenching and desperately trying to milk you with every devastating method it has in its arsenal—but you don't fall with it, you don't finish it.

Yeah, God, of course you want to, you're right there, legs dangling off the cliff—but you're not done with her yet, not even close.

So you just hold her against you, let her shake, let her cunt flutter so heavenly around your shaft, her abs flex and quiver under one palm, her heart leaping out of her chest and through the lovely tit you've got a firm grip on. Let her drool onto your shoulder, tongue, mouth gone slack and eyes glassy, looking up at you because it is—reliably, catastrophically—and it bears repeating—every goddamn time.

You twist her, cock slipping out a few solid inches and she makes a sound of loss that would fit in a funeral dirge; but yeah, you just want to kiss her, something rough and claiming, to help her swallow the broken sobs she's still making.

And she kisses you back, desperate, like she wants to hurt you with her tongue and her lips, teeth catching your lower lip; hands, fingers, fingernails clawing at your skin and your hair and there really is only one thing left to say:

“Inside me,” she spits into your mouth; words of a woman who is owed a grand railing and is ready to call in the whole account, backdated to the day you met, “I need your cum inside me. Now.”

She reads the stupid smirk on your face. Bites your lip again.

Again: “Now.”

You step back, length completely sliding out of her; cunt-drool keeping you tethered to her pussy lips.

Tzuyu groans, nearly collapses against the mirror.

“Then earn it, Tzuyu.”

There's little room left for grace, you manage what you can; an awkward-four-legged crab walk because Tzuyu's still shaking and needs you to support her weight as you collapse onto the couch.

A thud and you're seated, Tzuyu falling into your lap; your flawless girl, tits level with your lips, thighs bracketing either side of yours, cunt juice streaming down the plane, and her hands on your shoulders, bracing for what's next.

“Needed this,” Tzuyu sighs; cradling your head closer to her chest, welcoming the tongue that snakes out, rolls around a nipple, the teeth grazing the sensitive slope of her tits.

You jerk your hips, drag your cock through her folds—not inside, not yet—and she grits out your name. “I know.”

“No—you don't,” she tells you, smile on her face, wistful and pretty and she's just melting into your hands on her hips. “You know how hard it was to not go looking for you? All day I thought about—fuck—thought about finding you. Getting on my knees,” she closes her eyes, bringing herself back to some half-remembered dream. “Wanted to take your cock deep and drink you dry and fill my belly full of your cum—but I had to stop. Do you want to know why?”

You don't need to respond; you know the real answer, can feel it thrumming through her.

Tzuyu nods, slow, languid. Leaning in, dipping her head, breath hot against your jaw like she's letting you in on a private confession, something she'd only admit through the longest, sweetest torture. “I wanted you desperate. Hard all day. Needed you thinking about nothing else but me and my mouth and my cunt and my thighs.”

Your cock's fighting your own willpower, levelling with her entrance, you can feel the pulse of her meeting your throb; beads of precum slitting out of your cockhead ready to make the leap into her cunt. It's a game of millimetres at this point—a slip of your hands, a twitch of her hips, a slight fucking breeze; all it would take to break her.

“So I think I deserve a reward—for being so good for you, don't I? Or maybe you're mad at me for not taking your cock sooner—you can tell me I've been bad, that I need to pay you back, that I owe you—” Tzuyu's lips skate across your chin, doing their wicked work, inhaling every wisp of desperation and pure insatiable need that's been simmering underneath your skin all day. “Please, go ahead and put me in my place.”

“Fine.”

A forced exhale—wind knocked out from her lungs and into yours; cunt parting around you hot and slick and Jesus Christ she's so fucking tight, but you drive through it, wrenching her down while forcing yourself up and by the time you're fully hilted there's just one high, continuous sound she's making—a choir of wails, sobs, cries; a blissful chorus.

Her hips tilt to draw you deeper, thighs locking around your waist and there's the whole of your interior life, mind returning to one reliable verdict—you can't help it—death, taxes, and the combination of both when you collect what you’ve been dying for from Tzuyu's tiny, pink pussy and fill her so completely she can launch a one-woman investigation into the existence of the afterlife herself.

And you know her, know your girl, she wants to be more eloquent about it, wants to find a better way to convey how good you're railing her right now—so easily, firm quick strokes gliding in and out of her blistering cunt; guided by your hands holding her waist steady, but all she can manage is the high-level shit, the words that don't really matter but the effort to make them is Herculean nevertheless: “There—God—there—fuck—please—fuck—fuck—fuck—”

You hold her, fuck into her, just watching her—this ideal idol, letting your thighs slap against hers, punishing the muscle; absorbing all the details, the classified information that never leaves your desk.

Her face when you bottom out; the squeeze of her eyes, the slacking of her jaw, this euphoric grin dancing across her lips. Her tits and their heft, the bounce with every stroke—putting a hand back on one, filling your palm whole; the thought there—did you mold them, or were they tailor-made for you—or really, who gives a fuck because a squeeze makes her squeal so delightfully and you know that if you roll it she'll clench, cunt will pulse once, twice, around you and her head will drop back and she'll tell you again—

“More—there—”

“Yeah?”

And mumbling, fumbling around the back of her pretty head, sorting through all the things that may have existed there before you started filling it with thoughts of your cock, diving deep for the words and somehow managing to string them together—”Both—please—your hands, mouth, whatever—touch me more—”

You return your teeth to the other and her volume pitches; whips its way around the room, like it's searching for the cracks, the little gaps under the doorway so it can sneak into the corridor, down the hall—reaching for someone, anyone who can acknowledge how thoroughly you satisfy Chou Tzuyu's cunt.

“Your cock is so damn good,” she breathes; and that's all there really is, plain and simple, the why of it all.

What you've always known—sure you're helplessly, embarrassingly, probably-going-to-ask-her-to-marry-you-eventually down bad for her, even though you both know that you really are.

It's this—pounding Tzuyu's insides and being thanked for it. Her grip, her heat; not just her tits, her whole body, glorious thighs and all; engineered with this application in mind; an absurdly deranged thought to conjure—a decade of discipline, of investment, liquidated against your cock; an endpoint to just bounce mercilessly.

You remind her of it too: “Forty thousand people,” you mark the record into the underside of her tits.

“Please—”

“Every single one of them.”

“I know—please—I know—don't stop—”

“Going home right now,” you drive into her, shattering her on the downstroke, coming back together when you pull her up, just to break her into pieces again when you impale her completely. “Dreaming about these thighs—this body—this tight cunt stretching around me so nice.”

She's just properly gushing now, unashamedly messy with it; from her cunt, down your cock, past the crevasses of her thighs slapping on top of yours and ruining the couch below, but so what, sell it online or something; a Tzuyu-fied cum-stained couch; the sweaty outlines of your fucked, formless bodies on the cushions, would make a great centrepiece in any international gallery.

But anyway, back to the obvious: “It's all fucking mine,” and before you even have to tack on the end of it the question, Tzuyu's already picking up what you're putting down—

“All of it,” she says, just holding herself by your shoulders now, digging herself in, fastening herself down for the storm, “Yours”—once, pounded out of her—“Yours”—again, but broken, shattered; losing its footing in her lexicon. “Only you—only for you.”

And the other thing, what's left when it all slips: the composed, picture-perfect idol facade vacated, checked out, no lens in the world able to catch what's underneath. Just her and her wanton needs—fucked raw, fucked hard, wrung dry and left boneless. If she can walk or make words, or remember her name after this you've fucked up, because this was always her scheme: she chose the outfit, laced herself up in straight-up mainlined sin knowing you'd tear it off, spent all those hours on that stage with this exact destination in mind; so, yeah, hurry the fuck up—pick up the pace.

The couch jostles, fights the wall behind it, the carpet underneath. Something crashes to the floor, rolls off a table, never even mattered. Tzuyu stops holding back, the words come out clean, no longer minced; it was only ever a matter of time, because she's finally getting what she needs and yeah, the whole room, all of backstage, her groupmates down the corridor; no doubt are all well fucking aware.

A problem for later, you suppose.

“They can't imagine,” she says, unique to just her when she's at the end, more coherent, not less. “My tiny pussy—filled so—fucking—deep,” breathlessly, urgently, getting off on saying it, getting off on knowing it's getting you off too, “Stretched—ruined—a big cock full of cum saved just for me.”

Using her in every way girls like her should never be, but pussies like hers are built for—fucktoy, fleshlight, cocksleeve on long legs—holy fuck, fuck, fuck.

“I deserve it—don't I? A nice load, deep inside,” whimpering, proper quiver in her lip, and a last beg for good measure; loading her ammo, cocking her gun, finger on the trigger, “Can't stop—like that—don't you dare—”

Like you could—”Not going anywhere,” you remind her, holding on to where she's flickering between hard and soft; Tzuyu, hot as fuck all over and even hotter when she cums and tells you—

“Harder—”

Trying to—

“Fuck me—”

You're there—

“Please—please—please—”

She only needs to ask once because her cunt is divine, wrapped around you and leaving you with nowhere to go but up and down, back and forth; fucking her with nothing but terrible, wonderful intention until your hand is under her hip, slapped across her ass, forcing her to change the angle so she goes completely rigid and oh—oh—oh fuck—

“So—gah—good—”

Running straight through it—keep the angle; drive harder. The arch of her spine, lifting herself up, abs peeling off your waist and there's a gap, the opportunity—thumb back on her clit and she's clenching around you in warning pulses.

Thighs locking around your waist, hairline fractures in your hipbones, her body winding up—she's—you can feel her everywhere.

A wet choke, a stunned gasp, cunt swallows, gushes, inks something with her cum down the veins of your cock and she says it in case you miss it—

“Fuck—how the fuck do you make me cum so—”

Hitting her, tearing her apart—long, so loud—like she never stopped, and maybe she hadn't; been on that frequency since you first pushed inside her, and it'd make sense—her pupils at that dreamy sheen, stars in her eyes, shot into the stratosphere on your cock—and yeah, you'll take it, die with it, leap off the truck and declare WITNESS MEEEEE for all to see.

But she's not done. Yeah, she's fucked open and out, but her pussy's got other ideas, and her mind's on the same wavelength.

“Yours,” she says, fierce, needy, petulant; the princess turned brat, a rare, precious occurrence. “Give me yours—all of it—now—please—inside—”

And she keeps demanding, the sounds getting worse and better simultaneously; run out of proper onomatopoeia for her cunt on your cock, inventing brand-new ones to make up for it; her moans are climbing back up to join the fray. Despite it all, despite that she's just cum, she's oversensitive, rattling with it, but still taking it anyway, pulling it from you—gorgeous in every way, every inch, every configuration—what you get when you take Tzuyu from the stage and fuck her this hard and for this long and she clearly does not give a fuck that she's literally crying for your cock and cum and cannot stop—

“I'm begging for you to—”

“I'm here,” and her pussy milks it out of you, twists, pulls, grips—long rolling quivers around you. You're sunken deep into her, can't move, can't do anything but twitch and you don't know when you started but you're kissing her hard, groaning into her throat and following her over.

In the midst of it, cock spasming inside her, detonation on either side of your timeline—was there a before, is there an after? Or is there just this, now; soul leaving your body and flooding this ludicrously tight, hot cunt and—where were you again, what's your fucking name even—do you even care to find out because this gorgeous, unbelievable, unreal girl has got you in the sweetest embrace, lips, arms, pussy and all; clearly working through her own aftershocks, draining every last drop and stray thought out of you, and it goes on and on, and her legs are holding you there and it goes on a little longer.

White—at the edges, her cunt, your vision, it's all the same at this point; just fucking it all into her, stuffing her full, bulging her tight belly with you whole; all of you, all of the future yous too and what do you have to say for yourself:

“Take my fucking cum, Tzu—”

And what does she have in response?

“So much—all mine—God, fill me, please—”

It comes back gradually.

Names, places, details colouring the edges.

Tzuyu—small, floating on air, hovering on your cock, eyes half-lidded, glazed, satisfied; something that leans narcotic. Faint tears tracking down her cheeks, somehow reaching your tongue, or it's her sweat, or yours; but it's just hot and salty and that just about sums up the both of you.

You feel her heartbeat coming down against yours; survey the damage, the mascara that survived an entire concert but couldn't make it past this, the hair that's been reset and tangled and still looks wonderfully her. The corset was left by the mirror. The shorts surrendered somewhere close by.

“Could you ever—” Tzuyu comes to life, first to speak, let you know that she's still with you in the land of the living. “Fuck me normally?”

You laugh. “What's that like?”

“Like, leave me with some dignity.” She shifts; the ooze of cum, the exaggerated pornographic audio that accompanies it as it seeps out around the seal of her perfect plump pussy-lips glued to your cock proves her point.

“Sounds boring.”

“It would leave us with a lot less explaining to do,” she says, and you're already on clean-up duty, thumb to her cheek, wiping away the stragglers there; piece-by-piece, reassembling this demolished dream of a girl.

“To who?”

Tzuyu gives you a look.

“I think we're well past that,” you say, rattling down your list; “Nayeon, definitely. Sana can't say shit after what she got up to in Paris.”

“I know, but—”

“Momo literally fist-bumped me in the hallway and said, See you in Valhalla, brother,” and that has Tzuyu snorting into your neck, adorable, winning, her; still all wet and shaking and in tears from how hard she came.

Another lazy squeeze of her walls around you, habitual milking at this point, and she sighs, repeating, “Valhalla, Christ.”

“Legitimately.”

And she tests her muscles around you again, intentionally this time, and you throb back, and you're steering the car back onto the road now, putting things back on the most obvious paths—”You're going to give me a reputation.”

“It'll look great alongside mine,” you muse, drag your palms up those thighs once more, thumbing the damage, the territory marked and yeah; the stylist, make-up artists, she's gonna get a real talking to. “We can compare notes.”

She adjusts, twists; obscene, and more of your load starts to run, messy, dripping down her folds and onto your lap, waiting to be fucked right back into her; it's an intersection of indecency—pretty, fucked-up, dangerous.

Tzuyu in a nutshell.

Noticing: “You're still hard.”

Noticing back: “You're still sitting on it.”

Rolling her hips once, experimental, having you both groaning, moaning in stereo. She reads your face and knows what's coming next.

“How long do you think before Jeongyeon comes knocking again?” And it's already published by the time you say it—posted, trending, bookmarked—out there to be read and thumbed through—she's giggling all girlish and cute, you're laughing dark and low; she's getting flipped onto her back, pressed into the couch cushions that once had bigger aspirations than this.

Those thighs—again; downright incredible things, run out of words to bless them, just holy fuck do they spread so nicely, automatically falling open, heels in the air, knees hooked high over your shoulders. Tzuyu, Tzuyu, Tzuyu—built to be handled exactly like this.

A look in her eyes, the adoration there, the only lovers left alive of it all, the I'll hold your hand and jump off the cliff with you if you'd just lead me, has you thinking all sorts of romantic shit: I love you, marry me, let's maybe finish up by doing something dumb to make this something permanent.

But the comments are in your head again, so:

“I'm going to die between those thighs.”

Tzuyu cocks an eyebrow, you're just reciting the obvious. “Good.”

“Yeah?”

“I'll sit on your face in the afterlife too.”

“Hell of a way to spend eternity,” and you're already moving, laughing, tongue wrestling her down but there's no need, she was, is, always has been; apparently forever will be even after you're bones and dust—yours.

Hand on her thigh, one last time for good measure, pressing your fingerprints into the give of it, stamping off on a job well fucked, and she has to say: “Baby, you are so, ridiculously—”

You don't answer, electing to focus on thrusting back into her.

Fuck being humble, you are giving her the works, pumping in and out of her at paces you've only dreamed of reaching.

Her back arches as you grab at her hips, keeping her still as she squirms.

Her cunt is so fucking wet on your cock, it's pure agony, Pleasure's incarnate as it draws you back in with every pump.

But you can't cum yet, not after all the times your girlfriend has milked your cock dry without her finishing. You can't go through fingering her again to completion as your spent cock flops lifelessly on your pelvis.

"I t-turned you into a good little fuck, didn't I?" she teases, but her face is anything but composed. Her chest, her perky little tits bounce with the huff and puffs of her chest.

It only eggs you on, you lean forward a bit so you're over top of her, ram her from a better angle.

Her hands jump to your back, grasping, clawing at it in pleasure. She's most definitely drawn blood with her scratches. Worth it. Especially with that look on her face, mouth hanging agape, eyes screwed up in pleasure.

You've fucked her enough to know that pace isn't the only thing that matters. There are other things to look for, and when her pussy clenches even tighter, you know to prop yourself up, opt for slower, deeper thrusts. You also know to take a thumb, reach it down to her sopping wet cunt, find that stiff little clit you and flick.

Her hands, now at her side find the bedsheets and clench, her body trembles and her pussy squeezes you so hard you almost pass out.

But you don't, you thrust triumphantly knowing this is the third time tonight you've made her cum on your cock.

She lets out a squeal, all high and hoarse as her whole body convulses.

You still adminster soft pumps until her pussy ceases its tension, then you fall back onto the bed.

She's laying there, still a little out of it, and to say your cock is throbbing would be a gross understatement. It's writhing, your balls are so full of cum the head is nearly leaking. But your stamina is waning.

"Shit, Yeji," you utter, still shocked at not only how damn hot she is, but how well you've performed tonight.

You should know better to count Yeji out.

Her cat-like eyes are back, looking at you with something that signals trouble.

She crawls over to you, body still trembling but still, she's as commanding as ever.

She crawls up between your legs, never breaking eye contact.

"Y-yeji," you moan as her mouth engulfs your tip. "Give me a minute," you say, despite the cum in your balls stirring, almost escaping as her lips suction you.

She lets it out with the softest little pop. "You've been such a good boy. Maybe I'll give you a reward."

Her spryness returns, and when she spins and positions herself, you almost cry of happiness.

She's on her knees, face planted into the sheets, eyes still turned back towards yours.

"Yej— are you serious?"

Her hands are stretching her ass cheeks to reveal her tight little asshole.

"Take my ass."

You get up shakily, still apprehensive, but when she smirks at you, bites her lip and says "take it," you oblige.

Your grab your cock, positioning it at entrance. Just feeling it on your tip is dizzying. Her body tenses as you rub it there. She nods lovingly towards you, and you push.

The tightness is overwhelming, you push past resistance until you slip in. If her cunt has the softnesss of clouds, her ass is a thunderstorm of pleasure. Every inch deeper sends a jolt of electricity, of pure pleasure right up your spine.

Your balls are nearly bursting, they urge you to go faster, but she's so damn tight that you might just break her if you do.

She's spreading her ass even further, her breath keeps catching in her mouth as she tenses.

"Ohh— oh my… god, babe!"

Hearing it doesn't help you focus. You barely bury yourself halfway before you have to slide out.

"Your asshole feels so fucking—"

"Fuck me," she huffs.

You chance going a little faster, a little deeper, and her hands leave her ass, one finding her pussy to rub again.

You must be in heaven, you must have God given strength to not have released swaths of semen into her tight little hole, and soon, through her wriggles, you bury yourself all the way into her.

It's ascending, the feeling, the pleasure. You've been sitting with it, unreleased for like, half an hour now, and you swear you can see clearer. You prop a leg up, and even that movement threatens your release, but it works to give traction to your thrusts.

She is positively ruined now, one arm limply at her side, other weakly rubbing her pussy as you rail her asshole.

Look, it's not like you're not ruined either. The ascension is gone, and you're almost blinded as you feel her cervix convulse through the walls of her ass.

You're thrusting with abandon now, revelling in your reward as with an almighty gasp she cums, knees giving out as her body goes limp.

You too give your final thrusts, leaning forward and burying yourself as deep as you can before pleasure ignites your every nerve on fire and with a deafening cry, you spurt into her ass.

It feels like it lasts a lifetime, you propped up, cock buried in her ass as it fills it with cum. It's too much, still being lodged inside of her, and when you pull out, you spurt more over her toned back. Your hands find her asscheeks, groping them as your final spurts paint them too.

You collapse beside her, gasping for air. She lazily crawls up, nesting herself in the nook of your arm.

"That was fucking, amazing Yeji."

She lets out a breath, kissing your chest in acknowledgement. The kisses climn up to your cheek, before that tone is back, not tired and spent but eager and wanting.

"Are you ready for your reward?"

"T-that wasn't the reward?"

"Oh honey," she settles right beside your ear, "that was just the start." With surprising strength she heaves the both of you up from the bed. "Put on something nice."

"Where are you taking me?" you ask as she stalks off to her wardrobe in a hurry.

She turns back wearing that picture perfect fucking smile. "Heaven."

---

When she said 'heaven', you didn't expect vice and sin.

The nightclub, 'Hell's Place', booms its music, shaking you to your core. Even louder, somehow, are the heaps of fans recognizing Yeji, screaming her name, pushing past each other just for a view.

But she ignors it all, dragging you further into the club until a locked door.

"Alright, Yeji?" a staff member asks, unlocking it.

A shabby little staircase leads up to: vice and sin.

Still dragging you by the arm, the upper floor isn't loud and disorienting, it's full of important looking people doing less than important things. Even then, it's luxurious, velvet couches, black marble table tops.

Powder lins the card topped tables where men with rings and slick backed hair shout obscenities and exchange money, girls walk around in lingerie, stealing attention while quietly slipping forgotten bills into their pantyhoses.

Yeji turns, sultrous look on her face. "Welcome to Club Heaven," she smiles, dragging you further in.

"Was that… was that Chaeyoung and Mina?"

"Ahh, they're here all the time. Wanna go say hi?"

"They look a little busy." Indeed they were, Chaeyoung lay nearly upside down, hips lifted into the air so that her only contact with the couch was with her neck, and Mina's tongue was jammed so far up her asshole you were almost jealous.

Almost, because Yeji nudges you again. "Good, and you will be too."

"W-what the hell is this reward, Yej?"

Further up you go. "Wanna take a guess? It's something you've wanted even before you met me."

"Something I've wanted? A treehouse?"

"Yeah, I brought you to the underground idols hub for a treehouse," Yeji rolls her eyes. "No, it's this."

Yeji pushes a door open, and inside isn't vice or sin, you decide; it's heaven. Chaeryeong lay woozy on the couch, naked, spent, cum droobling all over her tight little frame. and next to her, a man sits, head thrown back in pleasure as a woman kneel in front of him, head bobbing up and down.

There's no pretense, no room for congratulations in this reward. Yeji simply walks over to the girl, and like the leader she is, grasps her by the hair and pushes her to you.

"Go play with him," she orders, getting to her knees in front of the other. "He deserves it."

The sight of Yeji plunging her hot little mouth onto the others thick cock almost makes you mad, almost makes you storm him with your fists, but now Yuna is in front of you, crazed look in her eye like she needs to replace the cock that was ripped from her mouth.

She does, however, seem to recognize you.

She shows you this by pouncing. So much for wearing something nice, Yuna's hands rip the trousers off your body.

"Don't pay attention to my Unnie," she huffs, pushing you back onto the couch. Your pants are off and your cock is hard for what feels like the hundredth time tonight. "You've always wanted to fuck me right?"

She wastes no time, doesn't leave room for an answer before her mouth wraps around you. The pleasure is unimaginable, the way her mouth suctions onto your tip. She lets it out, slurping up every ounce of saliva she left there.

"Wasn't I your bias before you started dating Yeji?" she says it so matter-of-factly, so confidently as her tongue slides up the underside of your length. "Yejin tells me all the time whenever she goes down on me, that you're always watching my fancams."

She's not usually like this, you've been dating Yeji for 3 years now, and everytime you hang out with Yuna, she's normal. But, when in Heaven, you reason.

Your eyes don't know what to focus on, Yeji's hair grasped by Mr. Muscles over there as he bucks up into her throat, Chaeryeong, now conscious and fingering herself as she watches, or Yuna, now taking your cock down deeper.

Okay, you folded, the way Yuna's throat closes around your cock like the perfect little sleeve is mesmerizing, not to mention how she simply refuses to break eye contact with you.

Her face as she's suctioning your cock is otherworldy, hollowed out cheeks, mouth almost springing so it stays latched to your manhood.

"You taste like Yeji-unnie," she moans, as if that fact alone gives her physical pleasure. She sits up, turning around to show her wide, oh so sexy hips. "Let's change that, shall we?"

She climbs up on the couch, legs on either side of you before lowering herself onto your waiting member.

"Nngh, shit," she moans as she takes your throbbing tip. "Yo-you feel even better than him," she gestures lazily towards Yeji and Mr. Muscles.

The sight of Yeji, now taking him doggy style eggs you on. You grab Yuna by her thick meaty thighs, positioning her so her back is leaning on your chest, and fucking pump. You pump and pump and pump into her tight little pussy as she screams in pleasure.

If Yeji's cunt is perfect, a hole molded to your cock, Yuna's is a cave waiting to be conquered. It wraps around you, her walls fighting you in places which only makes you want to pound her harder.

"Y-you feel so fucking good, Yuna."

"N-nngh, is it like y-you've always imagined?" she groans. "Does it feel as good as you thought? Fucking my tight little pussy?"

"I-it's so fucking good!"

She's barely keeping it together, you can feel the sweat of her back rub against your chest before she turns her head towards you, tongue lolled out like it doesn't know what to do and you kiss her.

It's hot and it's passionate, but it's not love, not filled with emotion like your kisses with Yeji are, and you don't know if that makes it more or less hot.

You can hear every squelch, every slap of skin on skin while you pound her, and it's almost too much for your already spent cock to handle.

You pull, cock wet with both of your juices. You lift her off of you standing up and tossing her onto the bed. She wordlessly climbs onto her knees, arms rested on the backrest, wide, breedable hips and sopping wet cunt towards you. Fuck.

She her head. "How'd you manage? I've been wanting this for so long, but Yeji's so possessive over you."

You prop one leg up onto the couch beside you, and thrust back in. You grunt, and her breath hitches.

"Nngh, fuck Yuna— I fucked her in the ass," you pound proudly. "I made her cum with my cock in her ass!"

You feel Yuna's walls tighten at the information. The slap that echoes from you pounding into her like this is louder than the club downstairs.

"H-holy shit, keep going," she strains. "Did you really? S-she only lets us fuck her ass."

Hearing this is enough to push you over the edge. Your pounding harder, and Yuna can feel it. You can tell by the way she turns excitedly, those eyes still crazed as she pushes her hips harder into you.

"That turn you on? Oh, the amount of times Lia has strapped on for her, pounding her until she's screaming."

You pump and pump.

"Not to mention Ryujin," Yuna continues through her moans. "Ryujin likes to tie our leader to the bed, fuck her ass until she's it's red and raw— nngh, just like that, fuck."

"Fuck, Yuna, I'm cumming," you groan as you attempt to pull out.

Yuna backs her hips into you as you do, and you burst into her, spilling all your hot load you thought exclusive to Yeji into her. She continues backing into you, microthrusts as you pump load after load into her.

She slowly eases off of your cock, and with a squelch, heaps of your load spills from her cunt. She collapses back onto the couch.

She eyes you, body failing after your wild night, but a look of disappointment recaptures your attention. "We're not done yet, I still haven't finished." Her fingers plunge into her pussy, pushing your juices further into her.

"H-holy shit, Yuna."

Before you can make another move Yeji is back, hands on your shoulder, pulling you into a kiss.

Yuna crosses her arms sulkily.

"I'm back," she says. "How was Yuna?"

"Good," you grunted. "And how was Mr. Muscles over there?" you gesture to the guy, who now has Chaeryeong's pussy covering his face.

"Ohh, is someone jealous?" she kisses you again. "Since when were we exclusive? He tried to fuck my ass, and well, that's only for you and the girls."

You pull her close by the hips. "Damn right it is," you plant another kiss."

"Unnie, that's all well and great, but, we weren't finished here," Yuna pouts.

Yeji drops to her knees in front of Yuna. "I think I'll be taking my boyfriend back for tonight, but I'll take care of you."

Yuna bites her lip, cheeks going scarlet.

"Do you want your Unnie to take care of you?"

Yuna uncrosses her arms as Yeji saddles up on the floor, inches away from Yuna's cunt.

"Yuna, use your words. Do you want your leader to suck the cum of her boyfriend out of your naughty little cunt?"

Yuna's facade breaks. "Yes, Unnie," she moans.

Yeji wraps her arms around Yuna's thighs, plunging her face into Yuna's cum filled cunt. The salacious sounds of Yuna, moaning all high and bratty, and Yeji, positively slurping on her fill the room, invigorating your cock once again.

Yeji, as if she knows, pushes her hips out for you.

It's a different feeling, fucking Yeji here, while she slurps your seed out of Yuna's squirming body.

It's probably better. Her tightness is mid-dizzying, and you should've known better than to compare Yuna's pussy to hers. Yeji's was simply made for you. It's pleasure beyond physical, it ignites your soul.

Yun's head is rolled back, squirming, hands flying around like she doesn't know what to do with them, from squeezing her own tits to grasping Yeji's hair.

And you pound Yeji, every thrust shoving her tongue further into Yuna until her face is a mess of Yeji's slickness, her own saliva, and your cum.

You well up whatever stamina you have left, and pound into her.

The room is a mess of moans and slaps, before Yuna, all high and unfocused, screams. She cums into Yeji, covering her face with even more liquid, and you too are approaching your limit.

You feel the familiar tightening in your pelvis, before releasing whatever semen your body can scrounge up into Yeji again. The bodies in the room are slick with sweat and cum, and you fall, no collapse back onto the floor, muscles seizing up.

You faintly see Yeji climb up to Yuna, kissing, sloppily swapping the liquids still in her mouth, and you can't help but faintly wonder if your girlfriend could win a sex marathon. It's your last thought before exhaustion takes you.

It's short lived, though, you're shaken awake and you can still see Yuna and Yeji frenching. Chaeryeong climbs atop you.

"You're not finished yet, are you?"

On the flight back home, you heard someone say, ‘True wealth is mental health.’ Great, you’re poor twice now; poor in every way possible. How can you protect your peace when there’s a naked woman on your couch?

Not just any naked woman.

Tsuki.

Who you’re not sure is even human in the first place. The one haunting your dreams and ruining your sleep and making you question whether sanity was ever really an option.

She’s reading the same book; she turns a page. Doesn’t even look up.

“Welcome home, Aki-kun.”

You close the door, nothing gentle about how you did it. The frame rattles. Something falls off your bookshelf. Your neighbors definitely heard the slam.

“You’re responsible for this.”

She doesn’t pretend to misunderstand. Doesn’t even look up from the book. “Yes, that’s all me.”

“You sent me to her. You introduced me to her family, to her father, to her. You set this whole thing up!” The words coming out of you get louder and less yours.

“She’s an opportunity.” Now her eyes are locked on yours; dark, cruel, flat, and amused. “I gave you the perfect woman, Aki-kun. Her father’s blessing, a cute little future—” Her voice doesn’t rise. “—and you can’t hold any of it; because some part of you never left this room—” She tilts her head, and the corner of her mouth curls into a smirk so evil it makes your skin crawl. “—What you did with her was your choice. In the end, you chose me.”

“My choice?” You’re laughing now, almost as sinister as the one she lets out; blood starting to boil. “You orchestrated everything. Made me crave you, then introduced me to her. Let her fly me to Seoul. Let me have a peek into her life and then let me fall—” You can’t say it. Can’t say that you let yourself fall for Eunbi; that she looked at you like you were actually worth something. Like you were a person and not a toy.

“Orchestrated, huh?” Tsuki sets the book down, then stands. She moves like clothes are an afterthought for lesser beings. “Yes. I orchestrated everything. You’re fucking welcome.”

“I’m welcome?” WELCOME?!

“Thanks to me, you had a week of genuine human warmth. You felt something. Right? Convinced yourself you could have a normal life with her.”

She’s walking toward you now, each step more deliberate than the other. Her fingers trail along the back of your couch, a smile starting to creep in. “And yet you’re back here, with me. Exactly where you were always going to end up.”

You swear the air turns razor-thin. Hard to breathe, harder to think; every inhibition you’ve got starts loosening at the knot. Time stands still and the cold creeps in from somewhere it has no business coming from.

“That’s not…”

“Tell me I’m wrong.” She stops inches away, close enough to touch. Her hand finds your chest. Presses flat. “Tell me you didn’t think about me the whole time you were with her—” Her fingers tapping your chest in a rhythm that might make sense if you know Morse code. “—tell me you didn’t see my face when you closed your eyes and fucked her.”

You don’t say anything. 

“Knew it.” Her fingers curl into your shirt. “Now. Are you going to just stand there and be angry? Or are you going to—”

Everything you couldn’t say finds its way haphazardly to her mouth. Teeth, breath, and the blind desperation of wanting to hurt and hold her simultaneously.

Romance out of the window; this was just unadulterated lust and fury. Weeks of frustration and denial and wanting something you couldn’t have and finally, fucking finally, taking it.

Your hands aggressively fist in her hair, pulling her head back. She gasps, the first real sound you’ve gotten from her, and you swallow it, kiss her harder, deeper, angrier, and more desperate, and you’re done waiting. You’re done having things ripped away from you.

“Yes,” she breathes heavily against your mouth. “That’s fucking it,” a quick, sinister laugh escapes her before going back in, “take what you want Aki-kun.”

You shove her toward the couch. She goes willingly, too willingly, and some part of you knows this is exactly what she wanted, but you’re past caring. Emotions are high now; you understand that, but you let it take over you anyway because fuck it. Fuck everything that’s happened recently.

“Your cock’s been throbbing for this,” she says as you push her down onto the cushions. “Haven’t you? All damn week. While you were fucking that Kwon bitch with huge tits.”

“Don’t call her that.”

“Aww, did I strike a chord, Aki-kun?”

“Shut up.”

“Make me.”

✦✦✦⟡⟡⟡

You don’t make it to the bedroom. She’s on her back, legs wrapped around your waist, and you’re inside her, pumping her brains out before your brain catches up to what your body is doing.

She’s wet. Soaked, actually. She was waiting for this. It should feel like triumph; it doesn’t. It just makes you angrier.

“You fucking planned this too, huh?” You thrust hard enough to make her gasp.

“All of it, Akihiro. The whole goddamn week.” (That cannot be; you refuse to believe she has control over everything that’s happening.)

“Then none of it was real?” you manage. “Not one choice? Not one?”

“I gave you options.” Her nails rake down your back. You feel your skin slightly peel away. “Now stop talking and fuck me like you mean it.”

“You gave me Eunbi, so I’d want more.” Another thrust. Her back arches. “So I’d come back desperate more than ever.”

“You’re smart. Is it working?” She smirks then pulls you deeper with her legs. “Come on, Aki-kun. Fuck me harder. Show me what you decided you wanted.”

You give her harder, crueller, everything you can’t put into words translated to chaotic motion. And she consumes it. Consumes all of you, moaning low and sweet; encouraging the very thing you meant as punishment,  until you can’t tell anymore whether you’re hurting her or worshipping her, or whether she’s let you do both on purpose.

“Yes, yes, yes, yes~ That’s it. Lose control, Akihiro.” Her tone is ragged but still somehow commanding. “Take what’s yours. You’ve been aching for this for weeks. Stop thinking and just, fuck me.”

You do. You pound into her like you’re trying to break something, and she meets every thrust, her hips rising to meet yours, her hands pulling you closer. (You’re starting to wonder how all of this aggression doesn’t even slightly affect her.)

“God, your cock feels so good inside me,” she gasps. “So deep, don’t stop, don’t you dare fucking stop.”

She cums hard. Her whole body seizes around you, her soaked velvety walls clenching so tight you can barely move. You fuck her through it, watching her face contort with pleasure.

“More,” she pants before she’s even finished shaking. “I want more, Akihiro! I want you to cum inside me. Like how you spilled it all for Eunbi.”

“Shut up!”

“That’s what you want, right?!” She pulls your face down aggressively to hers. Kisses you deep and filthy. “To fill me up. This is what I was keeping from you. Now you have it. It’s all yours. Don’t let it slip away now.”

That’s it. Those last few words did it for you. You cum. It rips through you like violence. You empty your seed inside her, filling her up, and she makes an almost satisfied sound. Almost. Her laugh aroused and breathless; laced with corrupt darkness.

When you’re finally done, gasping, she runs her fingers through your hair.

“Good boy~” she croons, like she’s praising a dog that finally learned the trick. “Keep it up.”

You should feel satisfied. You should feel triumphant. You finally got what you’ve been desperate for.

And then: nothing. What’s left is hollow that keeps widening. You feel it pulling at the center of you, dragging down every meaning you ever chased, until there’s just the dark, the quiet, the nothingness… You or the lack of you.

“We’re not done,” you hear yourself say.

“No?”

“Not even close.”

Her smile widens. “Then let’s continue. Show me what you’ve got.”

✦✦✦⟡⟡⟡

You finally end up in the bedroom for round two. You’re rougher, angrier, and she takes everything you give her while whispering encouragement like a demon perched on your shoulder while the angel’s on a paid vacation somewhere, and the return ticket hasn’t been booked yet.

You empty in her again and next thing you know you’re starting round three in the shower. Water running cold by the end. Her back against the cool tile. Your hands leaving marks on her hips. (That seems to heal back easily after a while. You don’t really process it right now, but you’re sure it’s happening)

By round four, you’re back on the bed, but something has shifted.

She’s on top now. Straddling you, grinding slow and deliberate, controlling the pace completely. And you realize, maybe for the first time, that she’s been in control the entire session.

Every moan, every gasp, every whisper of encouragement, she was directing you; conducting you like a fucking orchestra, and you feel like you’re just not at her tempo. Earlier, you definitely were rushing, and now she’s just dragging it out.

“You’re thinking too much,” she says, rolling her hips. “I can see it in your face.”

“I’m thinking about how you’ve been playing me all night.”

“Have I?” She leans down, presses her lips to your ear. “Or have I just been giving you permission?”

“Same fucking thing Tsuki.”

“Is it?” She straightens up. Starts riding you faster. “You seem pretty satisfied for someone who’s been played.”

You grab her hips. Try to set the tempo. She lets you, or seems to; you’re unsure at this point.

“I think it’s about time we talk business,” she says, even as she grinds down on you. “You need to formalize the consulting work. An LLC to give you proper structure.”

“Seriously. You’re talking business right now?” you say. The whiplash of it throws you off her rhythm; LLCs and retainers while she’s riding you senseless into the mattress.

“The Kwon retainer alone—fuck—justifies incorporation.” She’s panting now, losing some of that perfect composure. “I’ll handle the administrative work. Client outreach. The things you’re too proud to do.”

“That makes you my assistant.”

“No Aki-kun. That makes me your partner.” Her rhythm falters slightly. Just for a second. “In all the ways that matter.”

“And what do you get out of it?”

She doesn’t answer immediately. Her hips keep moving, but there’s something different in her expression. You can’t seem to explain it; it’s something you haven’t seen before from Tsuki.

“I get to watch what happens next,” she finally says. But it sounds less certain than before.

You pull her down. Kiss her. And for just a moment, just a fraction of a second, she kisses you back like she means it; then she catches herself. Sits back up. Resumes her rhythm.

“Cum for me,” she says. “One more time.”

You do. And this time, as you empty yourself inside her, you could swear you see something crack behind those flat dark eyes.

Something that looks almost like genuine emotions.

But then it’s gone, and she’s climbing off you, and the moment passes.

“Sign the paperwork,” she says, already walking toward the bathroom. “It’s already in your email.”

And it’s like your body just gave up on you, fatigue finally catching up. You pass out.

✦✦✦⟡⟡⟡

She’s gone when you wake up.

You sign the papers. That’s who you are now: a man who signs anything Tsuki, a woman who appeared out of nowhere, tells you to. Also maybe because you’ve thought about doing this anyway. Even without her.

The business account gets set up the same week. “Hinode Consulting” feels too simple, but Tsuki insists. You want them to remember your name.

She handles everything. Client inquiries route through her. Meetings get scheduled with terrifying efficiency. Emails go out under her signature, and people respond like they’ve known her for years.

You stop asking how she does it. You’re not sure you want to know.

✦✦✦⟡⟡⟡

Two Months Pass

You can make a million excuses, or you can begin making a million yen. That’s your mantra now. The Kwon retainer leads to more work. Minjun refers you to families with “complicated situations,” his word for situations that will probably involve at least one cousin nobody talks about.

Each case is a puzzle, and you’re starting to get really good at puzzles. Well, you always have been. (You also know that the most glaring puzzle you haven’t solved is working across you.)

Tsuki’s more involved in everything you do now: She’s in the office, at the meeting, on the other end of your phone at all hours. It’s been a while since you two had any action. There hasn’t been any opportunity. Not after that night.

You’re too busy; exhaustion finds you first before you even think of doing anything else that’s not work. You’re too focused on building something that doesn’t feel empty.

Amidst all this, she tries.

Late one night, you’re reviewing the Park case files. Another dumb son, textbook embezzling. Pattern laid out clear as day, but sloppy execution. You have all the proof you need. The question is what to do with it.

Tsuki appears in your doorway. You don’t know how long she’s been watching.

“You could finish this in a snap,” she says.

“I’m finishing it my way, the right way.”

“The son is stealing from his own family. You have documentation. You could—”

“Blackmail him? Threaten to expose him unless he signs over his shares?” You don’t look up from your laptop. “I’ll present the evidence to the family board. They’ll make the decision. They’re smart, they’ll pass the right amount of judgment.”

“But that’s so fucking slow and boring, Aki-kun~”

“It’s the right thing to do. I won’t have it any other way.”

She crosses to your desk. Moves around behind you. Her hands find your shoulders, start kneading the tension there.

“You work too hard Aki-kun,” she murmurs. “How about I help you relax a bit?”

“I’m fine.”

“You’re tense.” Her hands slide down your chest. “I can feel it. When was the last time you took a break?”

“Tsuki—”

“Shh.” She spins your chair around. Sinks to her knees in front of you. “Just let me take care of you.”

Before you can respond, she’s unbuckling your belt. She pulls your cock out, takes you into her mouth.

Her technique, mind-numbingly excellent as usual. Her mouth is warm and wet and knows exactly what it’s doing. She takes you deep, swallows around you, looks up at you with those dark eyes. Your cock slides in and out of her tight mouth like it’s made to consume it.

“The son was obviously embezzling,” you say.

She pauses. Pulls back just enough to speak. “What?”

“This Park case. The son is an obvious bozo: Three shell companies, redirected payments, creative accounting that would have worked if he hadn’t gotten greedy.” You lay it all out, accounting for what you found, like listing out groceries on a normal Tuesday.

She stares at you. Then, almost despite herself, she laughs.

“You’re discussing the case while I’m—”

“You did it first, you know? Talking business during sex. I’m just returning the favor.”

“That was different.”

“Was it?”

She takes you back in her mouth, deeper into her throat. Takes you in so aggressively; trying to shut you up, the only way she knows is reliable. You let her try. 

You talk anyway.

“I’m going to present the evidence to the family board. The father will handle the son. That’s how these families work. They clean their own messes.”

She moans around you. The vibration is… something.

“It’ll take longer than blackmailing the dumbass. At least I’m not skipping necessary steps.”

Her pace picks up; she’s working hard now. You eventually climax, and she swallows all of it. Wipes her mouth with the back of her hand.

“Feel better?” she asks.

“Sure.”

She pauses. “That didn’t sound convincing.” She definitely was not expecting that.

“It was fine.”

“Fine?” She stands. Straightens her clothes with precise but annoyed movements. “I just gave you—”

“A technically excellent blowjob. Yep, thank you very much.”

She looks at you for a long moment. You can’t read her face. Well, you don’t really care at this point.

“You’re different,” she says finally. “Since Seoul.”

“I’ve been busy.”

“That’s not what I mean.”

You turn back to your laptop. “I have work to do.”

She leaves without another word.

You stare at the screen; the numbers start to blur.

✦✦✦⟡⟡⟡

You fall asleep at your desk one night. Week three of a restructuring. You don’t remember closing the laptop. You don’t remember anything between the third paragraph of an engagement letter and the moment your face hit the keyboard.

Next thing you know, you’re in your bed, all tucked in and the blackout curtain drawn. You’re not quite sure how you got here, but you’re sure there’s no way you can just sleepwalk from your office to your room.

You rub your eyes and turn. She’s at the window, back to you. Black hair against the glass. You can see her in the reflection. Not her face, just the outline of her.

“Tsuki?”

She doesn’t turn. She just goes still in a way that isn’t human, and then she’s not at the window anymore. You blink, and the doorway is empty. The hallway is empty.

You fall back asleep before you can think about what happened.

Hours later you wake up. Your sheets smell like rain. The apartment is exactly as you left it. The laptop’s at your desk. The engagement letter is still on the screen.

You don’t mention it. She doesn’t either. (Surprisingly, you were able to complete eight hours of sleep. You didn’t think you still had that in you to be able to let yourself rest for that long.)

✦✦✦⟡⟡⟡

A new client arrives as a folder on a Tuesday.

Tsuki appears in your office with a colored folder, indicating she considers it important. She sets it on your desk; perches on the edge, close enough that her thigh brushes your arm.

“We’ve got a new opportunity waiting to be seized,” she says. Her fingers trail across the folder. “This one is par-ti-cu-lar-ly interesting, Aki-kun.”

“Interesting how?”

“Well, let’s just say this is the kind of case that gets you acknowledged and builds your reputation.” She leans closer. “Or destroys it to rubble.”

“You’re really selling it.”

“I’m giving you much-needed context.” Her hands find your shoulder, squeezes. “Jang Wonyoung: Influencer who is blowing up globally. A fucking bombshell; exactly your type Aki-kun. Three hundred million followers across platforms. And a network that rivals Eunbi.”

“I don’t care for influencers.”

“You don’t care about anything that isn’t a balance sheet Aki-kun.” Her thumb traces small circles on your neck. “What you need to know: She built her brand from scratch. Started young, went viral, turned a phone camera into a media empire. Sponsorship deals, product lines, TV guestings, and international campaigns.”

“And?”

“And her management got greedy~” Tsuki slides off the desk. Moves behind you. Her hands find your shoulders again, kneading gently. “When the global offers started coming in, they started skimming. Advances taken in her name, contracts she never signed; By the time she figured it out, she was personally liable for millions in unfulfilled commitments.”

“That’s easily fraud, clear as day.”

“That’s showbusiness for you.” Her lips brush your ear. “She needs someone to untangle the mess. Document the misconduct. Help put her former management behind bars.”

“Why me? Doesn’t she have her own lawyers or accountants?”

“Get this: Local firms turned her down. Too messy. Too public. And her management has eyes on the whole industry that could catch her snooping around and stop it in its tracks before it gains any momentum.” Her hands slide down your chest. “You’re her last optio—” She suddenly cuts herself. “—you’re her only option.”

“You booked the flight already, didn’t you?”

“Tomorrow morning, 8 AM.” She’s in front of you now. Leaning against your desk. “Seoul. Three days minimum, but obviously you can stay longer.”

“And if I say no?”

“You won’t.” That almost-smile of hers. “You never do.”

She’s right, it’s incredibly frustrating how right she is.

“There’s another way to handle this, by the way,” she says, voice dropping. “Will save you quite a lot of time.”

“What do you have?”

“Her former CEO has a gambling problem. The type to spend and lose their children’s school funds in a night. One of the partners has a mistress his wife pays him to keep. Another owes money to dangerous people who deal with crime that’s borderline terrorism.” She tilts her head. “Pressure points, Aki-kun. Press them, and they immediately fold.”

You consider it; for longer than you should. All extremely tempting threads to pull.

“I’ll look at the case first,” you say finally. “Figure out what’s actually possible.”

“And if what’s possible is slow and painful?”

“Then I’ll just have to ride through it.”

Her smile widens. “Interesting~”

She leaves you with the folder. You open it and start flicking through the pages. The numbers are a mess. The path in figuring out these shell companies is maze-like. This could take months. (Or a few hours if you ever decide to use whatever Tsuki gives you.)

You push the thought away for now. 

You need more information from the victim herself.

✦✦✦⟡⟡⟡

You’re back in Seoul.

You book the hotel this time around. Look for something further than those luxurious apartments you stayed in before—too many memories of wine and silk pajamas.

You text Eunbi anyway from the taxi (because you’re a simp). Been putting it off for weeks, but being back in her city makes it impossible to ignore the urge.

You: Hey… I’m in Seoul

You: Wanna grab drinks when you’re free?

Eunbi: Unfortunately, not this week, major acquisition closing.

Eunbi: What brings you here?

You: New client in a… complicated situation 😮‍💨

Eunbi: When isn’t it complicated with you?

Eunbi: If you need anything…

Eunbi: My network is available. (Edited)

You: Thank you, might take you up on that.

Eunbi: How are you? Have you figured your shit out yet?

You: Working on it

Eunbi: Please work faster…

Eunbi: (Unsent Message.)

You weren’t able to catch a glimpse of what that unsent message was. The conversation died down after that.

✦✦✦⟡⟡⟡

Jang Wonyoung’s apartment is in Gangnam. Nothing quite like it: Floor-to-ceiling glass walls, steel beams, and security systems tighter than most countries’ airports.

You disguise yourself as an old man so observers around won’t bat an eye. Finally, your navy suit came in handy. She opens the door herself.

Three words perfectly describe Wonyoung: Legs. Endless legs. You’ve seen her face on twelve billboards on the cab ride here. Face card that recalibrates algorithms and creates trends just by existing. She’s wearing a silk robe that definitely has more threads than your whole closet, and she’s looking at you like a delivery guy who promised 30 minutes and took 30 days.

“You’re that Japanese consultant.”

“Hinode Akihiro.” You offer your hand; she ignores it. Brat.

“I know who you are.” She doesn’t move from the doorway. “Your assistant was very thorough with the briefing materials.”

“She usually is.”

“She’s also very…” Wonyoung pauses. Searches for the word. “Present. Even on the phone.”

“That’s one way to put it.”

“Mhmm.” She steps back, finally. Gestures you to come inside. “Well? Come in. Let’s see if you’re worth my time.”

The apartment is expensive but highly impersonal. High-end furniture, no photographs, white and gray all around. It looks like a hotel suite someone forgot to check out of.

Wonyoung drapes herself across a white leather sofa. Doesn’t offer you a seat. Rude.

“So.” She examines her nails. “Hurry up. Convince me.”

“Convince you of what?”

“That you’re not another waste of my time. That you can actually do something about the people who stole from me.” She looks up. “I’ve had three firms already come here. They all said the same boring thing: too complicated, too high-profile, too risky, blah-blah-blah~. Are you going to say the same thing? Say it now so we don’t dilly dally, and I can show you the door out.”

“I haven’t looked at the documents yet.”

“Then why are you here?”

“To get the documents and to formally meet you.”

“And?” She’s still examining you. “What do you think?”

“I think you’re testing me. I’m not here to waste anyone’s time; you’ve been tested enough by people who recently disappointed you.”

Her mood flickers, expression finally showing a hint of interest.

“Ok, you got me. Sit down, Hinode-san. I’ll get the files.”

She moves through the apartment like someone who knows what she looks like from three angles at all times. She returns with boxes of folders that would make most accountants vomit blood. (Good thing you’re not like most accountants).

“Three years of contracts,” she says, dropping them in front of you: “Sponsorship deals, product lines, appearance fees; and somewhere in there, evidence that my management stole everything I built and worked hard for.”

You open the first folder, skim through the first few pages.

“They said these were investments,” she continues, “financial avenues to build my brand and expand my portfolio. Every time I asked questions, they showed me charts going up. Told me multiple times: Trust us, Wonyoung. We know what we’re doing.”

“When did you start figuring it out?”

“When a sponsor I’ve never talked to before tried suing me for breach of contract. For a deal I never signed.” She’s not showing it, but her words quiver from anger. “That’s when I started looking at the actual numbers, the signatures. The actual…” She stops, takes a long breath. “They forged my name on thirty-seven contracts, took advances worth millions; spent it on god knows what while I smiled for cameras and built the thing they were dismantling.”

“Where are they now?”

“Somewhere without extradition.” Her hands clench briefly—then release. “Living very comfortably on money that should have been mine.”

“And you want them to pay.”

“I want them to suffer, Hinode-san.” She meets your eyes. “Can you help me with that?”

“Finding the fraud and building the case—that, I can do. But actually getting them locked up? That’s the legal team’s job; a team I simply don’t have.”

“But you know people who do?”

Then it clicks: You think about Eunbi, her network; what she offered over text.

“Maybe. Let me look at the files first.”

“You keep saying that.”

“Because it’s how I do things. I can’t promise anything until I know what I’m working with.”

She studies you for a long moment. Her expression shifts; it softens, almost.

“Most people just tell me what I want to hear,” she says. “It’s refreshing to meet someone who doesn’t.”

She unfolds from the sofa, languid. The robe moves with her like it’s part of her skin. She sits up enough that her eyes are level with yours, then holds your gaze. Gulp.

“Give me three days.”

“And if you can’t find anything?”

“Then I’ll tell you that too.”

She nods slowly. “Okay, Hinode-san. Three days.” She stands, her robe shifts again, revealing a bit more than what you feel is comfortable. “Don’t disappoint me.”

“I won’t.”

✦✦✦⟡⟡⟡

Well, she’s fucked.

The files are a disaster. You’re a fucking disappointment, caffeined up, and nothing to show for.

You spend two days drowning in shell companies and redirected payments. Every time you think you’ve found a thread, it disappears into another maze of offshore accounts and creative bookkeeping.

On day two, you stop with a Caymans entity in front of you and realize you’ve seen this before. 

Two years ago: A senior partner at Ishikawa asked you to help structure something for a client. Tax optimization, he said; looks straightforward. You drew it up because he was a senior partner and you wanted the partner vote (that was one of your most crucial mistakes). The particular fuck up is still currently on the Federal investigation’s whiteboard. 

A few weeks ago, you told Kwon Minjun about it while sitting in his office in Seoul, looking at his glass case of masks. It was the first time you’d ever said it out loud and now you’re looking at a reflection of the past mess you were involved in.

You stare at the Caymans entity in front of you; even the font and formatting is the same. You should have asked harder questions (naiveté won, and you didn’t). Now you’re untangling someone else’s version of what you helped build.

Tsuki’s still pestering you with messages.

般若: hey aki-kun! hows it going?

般若: your new client is hot as well, right?

般若: found anything useful yet?

般若: remember, there are faster ways~

She keeps sending documents too: Bank records that shouldn’t be accessible without proper paperwork, uncatalogued photographs of signatures that look nothing like Wonyoung’s, information that would be a goldmine if you didn’t have to ask where it came from and how she obtained them.

You: How the hell do you even have this?

般若: I have my ways~

What?

般若: you don’t need to know Aki-kun.

You use some of it: The parts that could have come from legitimate sources, the rest you file away. Tempting.

✦✦✦⟡⟡⟡

It’s day three and you’re running out of time and options.

With bloodshot eyes and your fourth cup of 7/11 coffee. You finally find the signature discrepancy at 2 AM. A contract from eighteen months ago with Wonyoung’s name at the bottom. Except it’s not her signature.

Her actual signature has a distinctive loop in the W. You’ve seen it a dozen times now across legitimate documents—this one’s missing the loop. Pressure is wrong, and the stroke patterns are inconsistent.

You pull three more contracts and compare them; same bad handwriting pretending to be hers. It’s not proof, not by itself, but it’s a crack (and cracks can be loosened). 

Finally a proper lead so you instinctively call Eunbi.

“Hinode-san. Do you know what time it is?” she answers.

“It’s late, I know. Sorry, but I need a favor.”

A few seconds of silence. “Of course, what do you need?”

“Legal connections: a team who specializes in fraud prosecution, and someone who knows how to build a case that sticks.”

“This is for Wonyoung’s case? The influencer that your assistant mentioned?”

“She mentioned…” You rub your eyes. “...she contacts you?” 

“Yes. So, what’s your progress?”

“I found something: Forged signatures, at least four contracts, probably more. But I need help turning it into something prosecutors can use.”

“I know the right person for this.” A pause. “This is really what you called about? Not to see me?”

“I wanted to see you. You said you were busy.”

“I am busy. But I would have made time if you’d pushed.”

“I didn’t want to push.”

“I know. That’s the problem.” She sighs. “I’ll send you her name in the morning.”

“Thank you, Eunbi.”

“Don’t thank me. Just...” She trails off; “Be careful, Akihiro. Whatever you’re caught up in (your assistant, this case, all of it), be careful. Something feels wrong, and I can’t put my finger on what. Don’t do things you normally wouldn’t do.”

“I’m always careful.”

“No. You’re always thorough—not the same thing.” She hangs up before you can respond.

✦✦✦⟡⟡⟡

Another week passes

Eunbi’s contacts are good, better than that, actually—they’re fucking phenomenal. A team built to turn the tide in any financial case. With enough ammo, this team could win any legal war.

But this isn’t enough; this case needs more.

✦✦✦⟡⟡⟡

Day eight

You’ve traced the shell companies to Singapore, a dead end. The accounts were closed six months ago, funds already transferred somewhere else.

✦✦✦⟡⟡⟡

Day nine

More samples, more analysis, more legal mumbo jumbo that even your sober self is starting to feel out of your depth with. The forensic accountant wants originals, not scans. The originals are in Macau with the CEO who stole them. Fuck.

✦✦✦⟡⟡⟡

Day ten

You’re running out of options. Tsuki texts at 2 AM.

般若: Aki-kun, don’t forget~ I have shortcuts.

般若: One phone call and this is over. Case closed!

You stare at your laptop. At the maze of dead ends and closed doors.

One phone call.

It would work. You know it would work. People like Wonyoung’s former CEO have weaknesses: gambling, women, shady deals, and marks of a terrible person. Apply pressure to the right spot, and they all come tumbling down.

般若: I can make the call for you, if you prefer. No need for you to get your hands dirty.

Your fingers hover over the keyboard—head starting to hurt. Doors feel like they’re closing down, locking you up to only one path, but then…

Figure out your ghost.

You put your phone down and return to perusing the documents. There has to be another way. You just need to look hard enough.

✦✦✦⟡⟡⟡

Day eleven

Day 11 @ 1:47 AM

Wonyoung: HEY! are you up?

Wonyoung: dont nswer

Wonyoung: ofc you are

Wonyoung: just wasnted sum1 to listne

Wonyoung: i think i just had a pnic attack

Wonyoung: could breathe for like 40mins

Wonyoung: heh. I dont even remember which cabineeet this bottle came from

Wonyoung: anywaaaaay

Wonyoung: im a little drunk

You: Are okay? Is anyone with you?

Wonyoung: doooont worry

Wonyoung: Im in my apprtmentasd

Wonyoung: Im aloooone

Wonyoung: ok maybe im not okaaay but im ok

Wonyoung: you know? you know what it means.

Wonyoung: yourfe not dumb

Wonyoung: and youre kinda hawt for an accountant you know?

You: Ok. Drink some water, wash up, and get some sleep Wonyoung.

Wonyoung: buuuuuuuuuut daaaddddyy

Wonyoung: bitch how do yoooou unsend that

Wonyoung: anyways

Wonyoung: dont tell anyone that

Wonyoung: about not being okaaay

You: I wont dont worry

Wonyoung: good boooy. gooood accountant-san. youure hot and you follow directions well

Wonyoung: good

Wonyoung: gooooood

Two minutes of silence. You’re trying to type up some response. She’s being vulnerable, drunk, and stupid. She probably doesn’t mean anything she’s saying right now. You’re in the middle of finishing your thought when she—

Wonyoung: had 3 sponsors at dinner asking if i was ok you know?

Wonyoung: I smiled and their faces smiled back

Wonyoung: Pffft i know we were all just being fake concerned about each other in that room

Wonyoung: I like you accountant-san

Wonyoung: I know that you know im not okay but you dont ask me in frnt of people anyways

Wonyoung: ty i appreciate u for that

Wonyoung: looks like your busy

Wonyoung: I wont disturb you anymore hinode-san but go to sleep soon oka??????

You stare at the screen. Don’t respond.

Sleep never came. You go back to the documents. The whole conversation, if you can even call it that, still sits in the back of your head the rest of the night. The kind of conversation that usually doesn’t happen between clients.

Day twelve

Wonyoung texts you.

Wonyoung: How’s it going? I’m losing my mind here.

You: Still working…

You: These things take time you know?

Wonyoung: I know. I just…

Wonyoung: I want it to be over.

You: Soon

Wonyoung: YA! You promise? 

Wonyoung: Getting impatient over here!

Wonyoung: I’m paying you a shit-ton of money, and nothing is getting done!

You don’t respond. You don’t have time for this brat. You can’t promise anything anyway. But that night, going through the files for the hundredth time, you find it.

You find it in the sneakiest place where most scandals live: In the email metadata.

Wonyoung’s management used a shared email system. Corporate accounts, corporate servers. When they forged contracts, they sent copies to each other: bragging, coordinating, covering tracks, and being overall sneaky little rats. The emails were deleted, but the metadata remained. (Actual buffoons—of course, their egos got the best of them).

It’s got it all: Time stamps, IP addresses, a digital trail that leads directly to three specific people on three specific dates.

You call Eunbi’s prosecutor contact.

“I have something,” you reveal as if your life depended on it (it kinda does, or else that brat is going to harass you again over the phone). “It proves who forged the contracts, when, and where.”

“How did you find this?”

“The server logs.”

“Aren’t those wiped out?”

“They deleted the emails but forgot about the system logs.” You unconsciously let out a smile. “People tend to forget the system logs.”

“This is... this is actually usable!” She sounds impressed. “This, combined with the signature analysis and the financial trail. This is a case.”

“Enough to file?”

“Enough to file and win. This is incredibly solid, good job Hinode-san!” A pause. “Where the hell did you learn to investigate like this?”

“Twelve years of digging through digital crevices and reading footnotes.”

The case builds from there; each piece connecting to the next—puzzle pieces finally coming together. 

This is it. This is finally it.

Amidst all that, Tsuki keeps offering shortcuts.

般若: I found photographs. The CEO drunk and naked at a gambling den in Busan.

般若: The CFO’s mistress has debts

般若: She would talk for the right price.

般若: There are faster more effective ways, Aki-kun.

You ignore all of it because you have what you need.

While your client Wonyoung is… well… Wonyoung.

“This is taking forever,” she complains during your fifth meeting. She’s draped across her couch, wine in hand, wearing something that probably qualifies as a dress but only technically. Fabric that reflects light and reveals almost everything at a proper angle. Basically, something one shouldn’t be wearing in front of their accountant. “I’m not paying you to fucking laze around.”

“Complex fraud takes time to build.”

“I’m paying you to make it not take time!”

“You’re paying me to do it right.”

“I could have hired someone who does it fast and right.”

“No way in hell. That’s why I’m here.”

She glares at you. Then, despite herself, laughs.

“God, you’re annoying.”

“I’ve been told.”

“I bet your assistant tells you that all the time.”

You think about Tsuki and her looming presence.

“She has her own peculiar ways of letting me know.”

Wonyoung watches you over the rim of her glass. Doesn’t drink, just watches.

“The worst part,” she says, “is I keep waiting to see if you’ll smile. You don’t, by the way. Not really, not with that face of yours.”

“I smile—sometimes.”

“At your laptop, when you see numbers. But not at people.”

“You’re a person, have I not let out a single smile in front of you, ever?”

“Mhmm.” She drains the wine. Sets the glass down with more deliberation than it needs and moves on. “You know she’s weird, right? Your assistant?”

“What do you mean?”

“Like... really weird. Her manner of speaking, where she seems to know things she shouldn’t.” Wonyoung tilts her head. “I’ve never met her in person. I don’t want to. Two phone calls and I already feel like she knows everything about me.”

“She probably does.”

“That’s not comforting, Hinode-san.” A pause. “The way she describes how you act. I thought about it for two days.”

“How did she say it?”

“Like she knew exactly everything you’ll say and do.” She says it matter-of-factly. “Like she has swallowed you whole and tasted you in her mouth for a while. Like a lollipop that lost its flavor from being in her mouth for too long.”

“What a dramatic way of just saying we’re close.”

“I’m an influencer. Dramatics is my job.” She finishes her wine. “Just be careful, Hinode-san. Something about her gives me the creeps, and my instincts about people are usually good.”

“Usually?”

“Well—” She gestures at the folders spread across her coffee table, then rolls her eyes. “—obviously I’ve learned my lesson.”

✦✦✦⟡⟡⟡

The presentation happens on a Friday.

You’ve assembled everything: Forged signatures, paper trails, and the documentation of all the shell companies. The amount of evidence that stacked up proves you have a case strong enough it makes the prosecutor look at you in awe.

Everyone’s here: The legal team, whatever remains of Wonyoung’s crew, and Tsuki.

She insisted on attending. Said it was important to see the work through. You didn’t argue. Now she’s sitting in the corner of the room, watching, taking notes. 

“This is enough,” the lead attorney says when you finish. He’s gone quiet. “This is more than enough. We can file criminal charges within the week.”

“How did you find all this?” his associate asks. “Three other firms looked at the same documents and gave up.”

“The parts of the crime everyone assumes don’t matter.” You close your laptop. “But that’s only half of it.”

“What’s the other half?”

You consider how much to say. You haven’t really articulated this stuff before; you had no opportunity to.

“People at this level steal in a specific way. They wipe emails because they think those are the only written records. They forge signatures because they think nobody compares. They fly to another country because they think being physically out of reach means being out of consequence of the law.” You shrug. “I wouldn’t really call them careless. They’re confident. The difference matters: carelessness leaves crumbs to follow while confidence leaves accidental blueprints to foil their plans.”

The associate stops writing.

“You don’t break their case by outsmarting them. You simply break it by noticing they only care about the rooms they’re scheming in. The server logs live in a room with the IT guy they were rude to four years ago. They lose track of how many rooms they’ve created because they assume those rooms don’t matter.”

“How do you know all this?”

“I worked for partners like them and unknowingly drafted their criminal architecture. Didn’t even bother checking it.” You don’t say where; don’t have to.

Across the room, Tsuki’s pen pauses, and you meet her eyes. 

“Excellent work, Hinode-san,” she says smooth, unreadable. “Clean and thorough. Exactly what I expected from you.”

But that’s not what her expression says. Her expression says I didn’t expect this at all.

“Thank you,” you reply. “I couldn’t have done it without your... assistance.”

The lawyers don’t notice the pause, Wonyoung does. Her eyes flick between you and Tsuki, calculating something you can’t read.

“Well,” she says finally. “I think this calls for a celebration. Don’t you? A first for our many more upcoming wins.”

✦✦✦⟡⟡⟡

The celebration starts professional.

Champagne and bliss after endless nights of feeling filipendulous. The lawyers leave around ten, and her crew follows after. Soon it’s just you, Wonyoung, and too many empty bottles.

Tsuki left earlier, saying she had other business. You’re not sure you believe her. (You bet yourself she’s just pissed you were able to actually figure this out on your own way.)

“You did it,” Wonyoung says, on her fourth glass—maybe fifth. She’s less bitchy now. “You actually fucking did it, look at that.”

“We did it. Your trust made the case possible.”

“Don’t be modest, it’s annoying. I was annoying the whole time.” She refills your glass without asking. “Three firms said it couldn’t be done. You did it in three weeks, impressive.”

“Thought your money was being wasted on me?”

“Shut up.” She clinks her glass against yours. “To you, Hinode-san. The only honest man I’ve met in this garbage industry.”

You drink, the whiskey is expensive (everything here is expensive).

“Can I ask you something?” she says.

“Sure.”

“Your assistant, the creepy one.” She pulls her legs up under her. Totally casual, totally not insinuating anything beyond… a movement. “Are you sleeping with her?”

You don’t answer immediately, your eyes wander around the room, looking at everything but her.

“You are.” She sounds amused. “Or you were. I can tell by the way you avoid the question.”

“It’s… complicated.”

“That’s what men always say.” She sets down her glass. Moves closer to the couch. “Here’s another question: Are you sleeping with the Kwon daughter?”

“That’s—”

“Kwon Eunbi. I looked her up. You worked for her family; it’s how you have that legal team. You keep texting her when you think I’m not watching.” She tilts her head. “Are you?”

“We’re not…”

“But you were.”

“Briefly.”

“And you still have feelings for her.”

You don’t deny it.

“Interesting.” Wonyoung is very close now. Close enough that you can smell her perfume and all the alcohol she’s consumed. “So you’re hung up on one of your past clients, sleeping with another woman who may or may not be human, and now you’re in my apartment getting dangerously drunk.”

“I should probably go.”

“Probably,” Her fingers graze your leg as her whole body slowly inches nearer. “or we could...”

“Wonyoung—”

“I’m not asking for your heart, Hinode-san.” Her hand finds your knee. “I’m only asking for a distraction. One night where I can feel like a person instead of a product. Is that so terrible?”

“You’re a client.”

“So was Eunbi, this isn’t new for you.”

“That’s different.”

“How?” She’s closer still. Her lips brush the side of your face. “You did the work, saved my career. Everything else is just... paperwork.”

You should leave. But you’re tired. And drunk. And her hand is warm on your thigh. And there’s an ache inside you that never quite goes away, an emptiness that nothing seems to fill.

Tsuki is in your head, Eunbi is in your head, and Wonyoung is right here… wanting you—offering something simple and uncomplicated.

“Just this once,” you hear yourself say.

“Just this once,” she agrees.

Her perfect lips find yours.

✦✦✦⟡⟡⟡

You haven’t been touched without strings attached in a while. Wonyoung’s strings are at least transparent. That’s definitely an upgrade you can’t pass on.

The sex is messy, drunk, and desperate, and nothing like Tsuki. Wonyoung’s idea of sex is chaos-filled, with never-ending demands. You feel her hand tighten in your collar.

“Come on,” she gasps into your mouth, pulling at your clothes. “I’ve been waiting all week for this.”

“You’ve been—”

“Did you think I was dressing like this for myself?” She laughs, wild and genuine. “Every meeting, every late-night work session, I was wondering what it would take to break the formidable Hinode Akihiro.”

“I never noticed.” 

“Liar.” Your shirt is off now, her slender fingers working on your belt. “You totally noticed. I never unsent those drunk texts for a reason.”

“You’re a client.”

“Never stopped you before. You know what, just shut up. Just—” She kisses you again. Bites your lip hard enough to bruise them. “—fuck me already.”

She steps back a bit, watches your face as she unravels herself. Reaches behind her neck and undoes whatever clasp is holding her dress up. The fabric drops in one smooth motion, dropping like liquid on the floor.

Your eyes wander. Long lines, carved shoulders, ribs visible. A flat stomach with ample tits, high, pert, and meant to fit into any piece of clothing. Her panties matched her dress with a lacy exterior and a silk inner lining, making you crave more. She’s obviously wet with patches forming around her slit.

She catches you taking her in.

“Is this the first time you’re seeing a woman naked Hinode-san?” She steps back into your space; her hands reach for your belt. “Now let’s see you.”

You strip while she watches. Her eyes track your every movement as if you’re performing an act, and she’s required to provide an evaluation after. First your shirt, then your pants. All that’s left is your underwear and the tenting frustration that used to be empty but is now filled with heat due to the blazing hot flame of a woman in front of you. You take that off too, and now you’re fully naked in front of her.

She lies on her bed without breaking eye contact. You watch as she spreads her long, perfect legs.

“Come here.”

You come, and then she wraps her legs around your waist before you’re fully on the bed, then pulls you in. You’re hard against her thigh; she moves until you’re hard against her cunt, still covered by already wet fabric.

“In me, now. Don’t make me ask twice.”

You use your fingers to pull the only barrier between your cock and her needy cunt to the side, then you push in. She’s extremely tight. You realize that due to her profession, this kind of tightness must have come from genuine three-years-without-sex type of desire. She gasps once, sharp, then bites it back.

You start fucking her harder. Her loudness fills the room, and she talks through it the entire time.

“Harder! Yes! Right there—” She outpaces you, breaking your rhythm, and you try to match it, causing you to go harder than usual. “—come on Hinode-san, don’t hold back!”

You struggle to keep up. Weeks without sex and having to deal with the emptiness that consumed you are showing their effects. Wonyoung’s face changes. Her hands leave your shoulders and you don’t immediately register where they’ve gone until—

Both hands meet your face, the sound surprises you more than the impact. Your ears ring, and the room comes back into focus.

“Wake up Hinode-san! Is that all you’ve got?! I expected more from someone who—fuck—okay, that’s more like it—”

You pull out. Pull her legs aside and then strip the rest of her properly this time. She lets you. She spreads her legs again, and like a photoshoot, Wonyoung looks at you like she’s looking at a camera. Her body, just a tad shy of heavenly perfection, built to be seen—performs for you. Her eyes catch yours, and she smiles at an angle meant for her. She adjusts her body to fit better under yours, still directing, still producing, still being the star of this show.

You watch your own body become a paid actor on top of her. You then fuck her harder, exactly how she wants it.

“Look at me.” Her nails dig into your jaw, turn your face towards hers. “When your cock is inside me, you look at me. Only me. Not the bed, not the wall, not whatever you were just looking at. Me.”

Your eyes are now glued to her.

“There he is.” She hooks her ankles behind your back. “There’s the face I’ve been waiting for.”

“Wonyoung—”

“Tell me.”

“What?”

“Tell me I’m better than her. Actually, tell me that I’m better than both of them. The Kwon daughter and your creepy little assistant.” Her hips roll up against yours. “You’re still thinking about them right now, I can tell Hinode-san. Stop.”

“I’m not…”

“Yes, you are. Eunbi was here—” she taps your forehead “—for like two seconds. Don’t lie to me, I have a PhD in reading faces. So fix it; confess to me.” She grabs your wrist, then brings your hand to her throat. “Tell me I’m better.”

“You’re—” Your words are starting to slur, unsure of how to continue. “—different.”

“Different?” She laughs, more shocked than offended. “Try harder, Hinode-san. I built a media empire on getting what I want. I am not settling for different.”

You lose it. You thrust harder, and you hear moans and gasps. Then, as if she realized something, she laughs, then she moans, then the moan becomes another laugh, almost delighted with herself.

“That’s better, that’s what I wanted.” Her head tips back against the pillow. “Millions of people crave for me Hinode-san. Millions of people would kill just to get one night with me. And right now, the only thing on this planet you should be thinking about is me. Say it.”

“What?”

“Say my name.”

“Wonyoung.”

“Again!”

You laugh once into her shoulder despite yourself. She laughs back.  Then her hand finds your hair and pulls, and you stop laughing because she’s tightening around you again.

“Say it again, please. Say it loud.”

You say it louder, then she cums violently around you. Her whole body shaking from the pleasure, her moans loud and unembarrassed. Fingers in your hair pull you down to her mouth. Your tongues slithering onto each other, all wet, messy, and raw.

She doesn’t go quiet after, not even a hint of slowing down.

“Don’t you dare stop, I told you I’ve been waiting all week. You’re not done until I am.”

You obviously don’t stop.

She flips you onto your back without warning, climbs on, and rides you with the same confidence as before. 

Even through the sex-fueled haze, something strikes you. You start noticing her features: Her skin is too good to be uncurated, a scar lives on her knee from something she’s never explained on her socials. A birthmark on her hip looks like a dropped ink spot. A tattoo under her ribs, her PR team probably photoshops out of every campaign.

She is real in every sense of the word; someone who exists, who ages, who bears marks of living, while building a career on being more polished than she is. Her body is a project that she’s proud of.

Tsuki manages to haunt your thoughts anyway; you can’t help it. Even with Wonyoung above you, chasing her own pleasure, you’re thinking about that flat dark eyes and skin without any of these marks and how Tsuki looks at you like she’s always solving an equation.

“You’re somewhere else again.”

You blink. Wonyoung’s slowed down, looking at you, and clearly not amused.

“I’m here.”

“You’re obviously not.” She doesn’t sound hurt. “Fine, come here.” She pulls you up by the neck and kisses you slowly this time. “If you’re going to be fucking me while thinking of another woman, at least make it convincing.”

You try. You give it all you got and match her pace, pistoning yourself into her, now chasing your own release.

“Now. You may cum inside me Hinode-san.”

That does it. It rips through you, and she eyes you for every second of it. Lip caught between her teeth; her eyes on your face while you spill your seed inside her. Thick ropes of cum flood her insides and she feels all of it.

When you collapse next to her, she doesn’t curl into you. She props herself on one elbow and studies you.

“You’re so much sadder than I thought you’d be.”

“Thanks.”

“That wasn’t an insult.” She traces a finger down your chest. “I want to know what’s bothering you. Your soul feels so empty, so quiet on the inside.” 

She’s wrong about that. You’re never quiet on the inside, you’re just good at hiding what you really feel. You’ve been trained for twelve years to shut your thoughts and put it through words and numbers on paper.

You don’t answer.

She doesn’t push. Her eyes stay on you.

Eventually, you close your eyes because her watching is more intimate than anything that just happened. 

You fall asleep with her eyes still on you.

✦✦✦⟡⟡⟡

Morning arrives with all the subtlety of a hammer.

You wake up to sunlight stabbing your eyeballs and a headache that suggests your brain is trying to escape through your temples. There’s a warm long body next to you. Right. Wonyoung. Last night. The celebration that became something else.

She stirs. Groans. Opens one eye.

“Oh god.”

“Yeah.”

“We…”

“Yeah.”

She sits up slowly. The sheet falls and you’re both still naked. She notices but doesn’t seem to care.

“That happened,” she says.

“It did.”

“I feel like death.”

“Same.”

She laughs; messy, still hungover, and genuine. “Okay. Great. This is fine. We’re adults, right? We got drunk and made questionable decisions. It’s practically a rite of passage.”

“For who?”

“People with too much money and too little supervision.” She stretches. You try not to stare at her body: long limbs, elegant lines, the small imperfections that make her real. “How does it feel to have fucked someone like me? I expect you to not be weird about all this, okay?”

“It’s aight and I’m not being weird.”

“You’re still staring at my tits, you know?”

“Well… You’ve got nice tits.”

“Sure, thanks.” But she’s smiling. “Look. Last night was... what it was. Two lonely people being stupid together. Let’s not make it more than that.”

“Agreed.”

“We’re still professional. You’re still my consultant. This never happened.”

“What never happened?”

“Exactly.” She stands. Grabs the robe from where it landed on a chair. “I need coffee. You need coffee. We’re both going to pretend we’re not dying.”

She disappears toward the kitchen, you sit up. Try to make your brain work.

Last night. The celebration. The whiskey. The…

You slept with another client. You thought about Tsuki the entire time. You observed, no, you noticed every way Wonyoung’s body was different from hers. And now you’re sitting in an expensive apartment, hungover and naked, wondering what exactly you’ve become.

Wonyoung returns with two cups of coffee and a wooden box.

“Here.” She hands you a cup. Sits on the edge of the bed. “I want to show you something.”

“What?”

She opens the box. Inside, wrapped in faded silk, is a mask.

Your chest tightens.

A Hannya mask. You’ve been seeing them everywhere lately. Hotel hallways. Minjun’s office. The same face. Horns and teeth and an expression that doesn’t decide whether it’s grieving or about to bite.

“Where did you get that?”

“A friend. She’s Japanese like you. Her name is Naoi Rei. We met at a brand collaboration a few years ago. She’s a designer, does traditional Japanese craftwork for runway. Lives in Tokyo, actually. Her studio’s in Aoyama, not far from your office, if I remember right.” Wonyoung traces the mask’s features. “She gave me this when things started going bad with my management. Said everyone in the industry needs protection.”

“Protection from what?”

“That’s the thing.” Wonyoung looks up. Her expression is strange. Uncertain in a way you haven’t seen before. “I asked her the same thing. And she told me stories.”

“What kind of stories?”

“Demons. Women who look human but aren’t. Who attach themselves to men at their lowest moments and...” She trails off. “I don’t know. Feed on them, I guess. Make things worse while pretending to help.”

Your mouth is dry. “That’s folklore created to scare children.”

“Rei doesn’t think so.” Wonyoung holds up the mask. Studies it. “She says the Kanji for these demons in Japanese are the same as the Buddhist word for wisdom. I don’t have a good grasp of that idea myself. It’s all very vague and deep.”

“Demons and wisdom share a name.”

“Yeah. Rei said that’s the point.” She hands you the mask. “Keep it.”

“I can’t…”

“It’s not a gift. It’s a warning.” She meets your eyes. “Your assistant texts from a weird handle, Hinode-san. I saw it on your phone. And the way she looks at you, the way she knows things she shouldn’t…” She shakes her head. “I don’t know what she is. But I don’t think she’s human.”

You look at the mask in your hands. The horns. The teeth. The face of a woman who used to be something else.

“Why are you telling me this?”

“Because you’re the first person in years who actually helped me without wanting something in return.” She pulls the robe tighter around herself. “And because whatever she is, whatever game she’s playing. I don’t think you know the rules yet.”

You don’t know what to say. So you just sit there, holding a demon’s face in your hands, trying to make sense of things that refuse to make sense.

“Thank Rei for me,” you finally say.

“Thank her yourself. I’ll send you her contact info.” Wonyoung stands. “Now get dressed. I need you to leave so I can die of this hangover in peace.”

✦✦✦⟡⟡⟡

The flight back to Tokyo takes forever.

Your laptop’s open. You haven’t typed anything in twenty minutes. The search bar’s open. You haven’t searched anything.

You used to read Wikipedia for fun: Try to get from one topic to another by just clicking specific keyword links, but now you’re stumped.

You type: Hannya.

The first result is an odd webpage, you read three sentences and close it. The second is a Noh theater archive. You read one paragraph and close that too.

A woman whose jealousy twisted her into something else. Something that finds men at their lowest moments and stays.

You close the laptop.

You remember the bar. Four months ago. 

You think about the Wonyoung case. Every dead end, she had an answer for. Every door closed, she had a key. You’ve managed this far without ever using her keys, and that somehow surprised her. Like the version of you doing this clean wasn’t the version she’d been planning for.

The Hannya mask is in your bag. You can feel it the way you’d feel a tumor.

Figure out your ghost.

Your phone buzzes.

般若: you’ve been quiet.

般若: how did the celebration go? fucked another client, have you?

般若: I see you’re starting to get curious.

般若: be careful what you dig for, Aki-kun.

般若: some things don’t want to be found.

You put the phone face down on the tray table and stare out the window. 

She knows but she’s been wrong before, once, about you. So maybe she doesn’t know everything.

✦✦✦⟡⟡⟡

Two days later, another message arrives.

You’re at your desk, staring at the Hannya mask you’ve placed where you can see it, when your phone buzzes.

Different number. Different tone.

Hinode-san. Following up. I know you’ve been ignoring my voicemails and emails for the past month. I respect that. I’ve decided to write the piece anyway, to also hopefully get your attention. Private consulting and the ethics of confidential advisory work. I’m interested in how you rebuilt your career after Ishikawa, and whether the rumors about your “unusually efficient” assistant have any substance. Last chance to comment before publication. Forty-eight hours. After that, your silence becomes part of the story.

You read it three times.

You remember her byline. Polaris. Four senior partners in prison and a Bloomberg Asia cover. The kind of work that doesn’t get written by accident.

You think about the voicemails you didn’t return. The coffee invite you ignored. The email you read once in Eunbi’s kitchen and put face-down on the counter.

You don’t want your name in whatever she’s writing.

Someone else has noticed. Someone outside your circle is asking questions about Tsuki.

Your phone buzzes again. The familiar handle.

般若: you received an interesting message.

般若: be careful how you respond, Aki-kun.

般若: some questions are safer left unanswered.

You look at the two messages side by side. The journalist asking questions. Tsuki warning you from answering.

For the first time in months, you feel something other than empty.

You feel curious.

You pick up your phone. Type something short.

You: Kim Jiwoo-ssi. You’ve got my attention.

You send it. Don’t read it back.

Then, before you can talk yourself out of it, you open the contact Wonyoung forwarded an hour ago. Naoi Rei: Aoyama, the designer with the masks.

You: Naoi-san. Hinode Akihiro. I’m back in Tokyo. Jang Wonyoung gave me your contact and spoke very highly of you. I’d look forward to meeting if you can spare an hour this week. I have one of your masks. I think we should talk.

You hit send before you can think about why. Your finger lingers on the screen.

Your phone buzzes.

般若: interesting choice~

般若: which one of those messages do you think I’m talking about, Aki-kun?

You don’t respond.

般若: I’ll see you soon.

You pour yourself a bourbon. The glass tastes like the bar four months ago. You don’t finish it.

Your phone buzzes again. A new number. Korean country code.

Hinode-san. I should mention. I don’t write stories I’m not willing to follow into the room.

Look out your window.

You don’t move.

The next buzz is a photo. Your building, taken from across the street. Your floor. Your kitchen light still on. Time-stamped one minute ago.

Apartment 24F. The one with the bourbon poured. I’ll be in your lobby in ten minutes. I brought us coffee. You’re going to want to talk to me, Hinode-san. The piece is already written. I’d rather not file it without giving you a chance to be a person in it instead of a name.

You look at the mask. Look at your phone. Look at the bourbon you didn’t finish.

“Ten minutes, huh?”

The waitress took the small cloth hanging off her shoulder and wrapped it around her hand, protecting her palm from the blistering heat from the clay cover as she lifted it.

The heavy smell of curried spice and coconutty seafood wafted into Minju’s nose, and her mouth started to water in anticipation of her own order.

She looked at the clock on the wall and stared at the seconds hand that was twirling around the numbers. Then she looked back at the mother who was now stirring the claypot of seafood curry in a similar manner to the ticking of the clock.

12:36 p.m.

“Where's my food…” Minju muttered under her breath as she tried to wave for the waitress again, but she darted to another table behind and gave a couple their order, completely ‘ignoring’ her as she wallowed herself in the busyness of the lunch crowd.

12:43 p.m.

“I only have seventeen minutes left,” Minju mumbled as her lunch break inched towards finality. She tapped her feet impatiently and waved her air-stabbed-fork at a waiter, which he finally gave her a merciful response, pumping his palm out and asked her to wait as he attended to a lady asking for a refill of orange juice.

But he never came.

12:50 p.m.

Minju couldn’t wait anymore.

“Excuse me!” she shouted, her voice thundering across the layered conversations of people chatting and clinking of metal utensils on porcelain plates.

Two waitresses, four waiters, a cashier stared at her, along with thirty-seven pairs of eyes of staff-stealing customers and the hollow pupils of a ghost of silence.

The silence enacted by the ghost was broken by a waiter.

“Yes?”

Minju took in a deep breath and exhaled her forty-three minutes worth of displeasure.

“I’ve been waiting for my food since—”

She pointed at the clock.

“—12:07 p.m.! People who had arrived after me got their food. Where's mine?”

Her finger arced horizontally towards a couple by the diner’s door.

“They came in ten minutes ago, and they're now halfway through their chicken cutlet fried rice and spicy dumpling noodles. Where's mine?”

“M-Maybe they're still cook—”

“Oh don't you give me that excuse,” Minju shot back in irritance. “I only ordered a simple plain rice with a some beef stew, because that's your speciality, but apparently I was just served with a special dose of ignorance and negligence! Now I’m left with what, seven minutes until my lunch break ends, and considering that it takes five minutes to walk back, don’t I only have two minutes left to eat?”

Minju’s face flushed red, wheezing from anger.

“Can you even bring me my food in two minutes?”

“W-We’re sor—”

“Whatever, I’m leaving.”

Minju stood up and grabbed her bag, stomping out of the diner. She frowned at the sweltering heat outside that served nothing apart from giving her welling irritation a huge dose of sweat.

Sighing in defeat, her heart cried at the despair of spending the rest of her day with an empty stomach as she turned to walk back—

“Miss!”

A shout sounded from the alleyway beside the diner.

A young man in a chef attire covered by an apron appeared into view, his name printed on the barely shiny tag stuck on the left of his chest.

“What?” Minju asked in faux annoyance, peering at his name tag. “Are you going to give me my food right now, Mister… Theo?”

“Yes,” he bowed, holding out a paper bag. “It seemed that the waitress that took your order had forgotten to key them into the ordering system. While the manager has reprimanded her, I still think that it is our fault for not showing you attention despite your constant calls for assistance.”

Minju looked at the man who had his head still facing the ground, flustered by the situation.

“I didn't mean for you to apo—”

“No,” he raised his body, looking at her. “It’s not much, but I managed to sneakily put together something for you. Please don't go hungry, it's not a nice feeling.”

He gave another small bow and turned, heading back into the diner.

“Hey!” Minju called out to him. “T-Thanks!”

“Please don't blacklist us?” he chuckled and waved with a smile. “I hope to see you back here!”

He disappeared into the diner.

Minju looked into the bag. It held a small metal tin. The top was transparent and she could see rice tucked neatly to one half, along with three to four assorted dishes randomly squeezed into the other half.

Looks like she'd have to come back and return the metal tin.

🌸 🌸 🌸

“You don’t have to keep doing this, you know?”

“But I want to,” he said, letting go of the lunch box. “Besides, you say that, but your hands are saying otherwise.”

Minju giggled and popped the box’s lid open.

“Well, I can’t let your efforts go to waste, right?” she remarked, removing the chopsticks fastened on the underside of the lid. “And it’s not like I can resist what you always prepare for me. It’s always a treat and an honour even to taste the delicacies of a two-starred royal family’s head chef.”

“Two stars? The only stars I have are the stars I see when I dream of you at night,” he stood up and ruffled her hair. “I’m just a sous chef at a random cheap ass diner who can’t even afford ingredients of minimal quali—”

“Shush.”

“—If I have even one of the two stars that you think I hav—”

“Theo!”

“—I’d throw it across the sky and wish for endless money so that I can cook you the nicest food every day.”

Minju sighed and grabbed on to his arm, pulling him back onto the bench.

“Can you stop lamenting yourself for one second?”

Theo chuckled and leaned back onto the bench’s back rest, squinting at the glowing clouds covering the sun behind.

“You know I am always thinking about you,” he said, poking her cheek with his finger.

“And why aren’t you my boyfriend yet?”

Theo cleared his throat and looked at the imaginary watch on his wrist.

“Aren’t you gonna eat? Time’s ticking.”

Minju pouted and slumped her shoulders, but the moment she lifted the metal lunch box, her annoyance faded. She looked at the food inside — hand cut noodles tossed with a slightly spicy ginger scallion chill oil, topped with a poached egg and meatless numbing spicy tofu stew on the side. She stuck her chopsticks in and loosened the flat noodles slightly before twirling them around the two mini metal poles like spaghetti on the prongs of a fork.

Theo watched Minju put the noodle spiral into her mouth, watching her chew softly with bated breath.

“How is it?”

Minju hummed softly, eyebrows furrowing and lifting in irregular patterns as though they were conductor sticks, waving as they directed the orchestra of flavour explosions in her mouth.

“It’s alright,” she said.

“Alright…” Theo mumbled, his face dropping slightly at the lack of reaction he desired.

Minju’s pupils snaked to the corner of her eyes, glancing at his dejected expression.

“You’re such an easy person to tease~” she laughed, already twirling another mouthful of noodles with her chopsticks. “Why would this only be alright? I could eat it all day everyday.”

Once the noodle spiral was done, she poked a cube of tofu drenched in the numbing tofu sauce, completing her self-made noodle skewer.

“Did you eat?”

“Not yet.”

“Are you not going to eat again?”

“Seeing you eat makes me full,” Theo said. “Besides, you know what they say about cooks. They don’t eat what they cook.”

Minju stabbed the yolk of the poached egg and let the golden goo flow over the noodles.

“Why though?”

“Hmmm… maybe it’s because we’re already constantly dealing with food? At some point it just feels like it’s not enjoyable anymore. Job fatigue or something like that.”

Minju set the lunch box down and looked at Theo. His eyes were weary from onion chopping, shoulders heavy from wok tossing, and his fingers were calloused from constant heat exposure and never-ending hand washing.

He looked exhausted.

But yet, his voice still carried a tone of mellow and content serenity as he closed his eyes and soaked his skin with the rays of the spring sun.

Minju picked up and held on to her chopsticks tightly, making another noodle-tofu skewer before putting it into her mouth. Then she made another as she chewed.

“Mr Theo.”

His eyes shot open at her call.

“W-What’s with the sudden formality?”

Minju stabbed the skewer towards him but stopped it right before his mouth.

“Eat.”

“What? No! That’s your share.”

“Eat.”

“I’m not hungry, really.”

Minju’s eyes narrowed.

“If you’re not going to eat, I’m never meeting you again.”

Theo’s eyes darted to from her face to the chopsticks, then back to her slitted eyes.

“Okay, okay,” he said, opening his mouth in defeat.

Minju stuffed the food into his mouth which he reluctantly closed his lips, pulling the noodles and tofu off the chopsticks with a slide.

“How is it?” Minju asked, watching Theo chew eagerly as if trying to make it a point to her that he was in fact eating.

“It’s good,” he said. “The flavours are well balanced, and it isn’t too spicy, which is what you always like.”

Minju listened and picked up another piece of tofu with the chopsticks, putting it in her mouth.

“So, if you already know the answer, why did you ask me earlier?”

“I—”

Minju sighed and rested the chopsticks back into the lunchbox. She raised her hand and readied her fingers onto Theo’s forehead, giving him a hard flick.

“Ow!” Theo exclaimed, rubbing the redness that was already starting to form on the skin between his eyes.

“You. Should. Take. Care. Of. Your. Self.” Minju frowned and scolded, her fingers already preparing for another flick.

“Alright, alright! I promise,” Theo murmured in defeat.

“I don’t trust you.”

“I swear!”

“No,” Minju said. She picked the lunchbox back up and passed it to Theo. “Half. Let’s share.”

“But I made that for you…”

“Share,” she insisted. “Blame it on yourself. Who asked you to not take care of yourself and only focus on me? Do you think it would make me feel good if you fainted from hunger?”

She pushed the box into his hands and looked at him, her expression softening slightly.

“Theo.”

“Yes?”

“Those chopsticks contain my saliva.”

“…And?”

Minju turned her head away from him, her cheeks blazing red.

“And that was my first indirect kiss.”

The moment those words left her mouth, she stood and picked up her handbag, running away in shyness.

“Wh—”

Theo held on to the lunchbox, dumbfounded at Minju’s words. He raised his fingers and touched his lips, his mind wandering off into a dream in broad daylight.

“First… kiss…”

His cheeks flushed red.

Watching Minju running off into the distance, Theo gave a shout at the top of his lungs.

“See you tomorrow!”

Minju stopped behind a blooming cherry tree farther away. She placed a hand over her chest.

A strange warmth.

She turned back and looked at him.

Theo was still sitting on the bench, smiling as he finally continued to eat the lunch she had forced him to share.

Minju smiled without realizing it.

Then she turned and continued home.

☀️ ☀️ ☀️

She opened the doors to their house.

“You sure this is going to work?” Minju asked as she walked in.

“Do you not trust me?” he replied, carrying a carton filled with popsicle sleeves into the room from behind her.

“I do, but I don’t trust myself…”

“Don’t worry about it,” he said. “I’m equally as clueless. But I’m sure it’ll be fine? We have the recipe from your mom, and it's summer. I’m sure they’ll sell like hotcakes.”

“I sure hope so…” Minju muttered. “So what do we do first?”

He picked up the recipe that Minju had left on the kitchen counter and read it.

“We’ll need some heavy cream, condensed milk and vanille extract,” he said. “We’ll just need to errrr… mix them all together as fast as we can and freeze it.”

Minju took out the ingredients as he read them off the list, and reached for a large bowl and whisk.

“So, how much?” she asked.

“That, is a very good question,” he said. “I have no idea. There aren't any numbers the recipe. You sure you didn't miss them out when copying?”

Minju frowned and took the paper from him.

“Copy? This was the exact piece of paper I tore from my mother's cookbook.”

He stared at her and gave an awkward laugh.

“Well… I guess we have much to worry about then.”

“Why?” Minju asked. “We could just delay the opening, right? Right until we get the right ice cream formula?”

“I… spent all our money on a no refund loan of the shop cart for a week. There are no allowable changes to the rental period, so if we don't even break even during this coming week, we're goners.”

“And the rental starts tomorrow?”

“Yep,” he said, giving an awkward smile.

Minju laughed and picked up the whisk, her other hand grabbing on to the scissors.

“Well, looks like we don't have much of a choice. Let's just try our best.”

He nodded and took the scissors from her, opening the pack of heavy cream. Emptying the entire packet into the bowl, he slid it to Minju, who started whisking as fast as she could. Meanwhile, he took a can opener and opened several small metal cans, the soft grinding sound of metal on metal filling the air. Pulling their lids up, he pushed them over and poured the condensed milk into bowl while Minju mixed.

“Say, why did you choose a cart with no refund option?”

Looking at how her vigorous whisking had started to slow down, he took the whisk from her and started stirring.

“I just thought that if we're already going to be spending our precious money, we might as well get the best cart possible.”

The heavy cream was starting to foam from the agitation as he stirred, the mixture slowly turning into a thick creamy paste.

“I just didn't expect that the recipe would have no numbers…” he mumbled.

“I’m not even mad at you, so why are you feeling down?” Minju asked. “Plus, it's partly my fault as well. I should have checked beforehand.”

“Oh well,” he sighed, scooping up the paste with the whisk. The paste flowed off the gaps between the thin metal, and he repeated this motion several times as he evaluated the mixture with uncertainty.

“I think that's enough? It looks like melted ice cream already.”

“How long does it take to freeze them?” Minju asked.

“About six hours? At least that's what I've heard from my friends.”

“Right, so we won't know how it’ll turn out until midnight. Whatever, we ball. Let's start making the different flavours.”

He nodded and opened a bottle of vanilla extract, giving the mixture a generous dose of black liquid gold.

“So, what did you get?” he asked.

Minju pulled out a bag of groceries and put them on the table, before taking out the smaller bags inside.

“Strawberries, mangoes, grapes, chocolate chips, rice puffs.”

“Praise the King! You’ve even got chocolate rice?”

He picked up the bag of colourful rice, shaking it excitedly.

“That's a good choice! Kids will definitely love it.”

Minju and him began splitting the mixture into different batches, each one for a different flavour.

They chopped the strawberries and mangoes into bite-sized chunks, mixing them into each batch. Once they gave the batch another good mix, they began pouring the thick viscous liquid into the popsicle sleeves.

“There we go, strawberry flavoured popsicles done,” Minju said, looking at the thirty or so sticks lying on the kitchen counter. “Into the freezer they go.”

He smiled and gathered them on a tray, bringing them to the freezer. They continued to finish up the rest of the popsicles, and by the time they were done, it was already close to dinner time. A good two hundred popsicles were all stuffed into the freezer, and they both stared at the numerous colourful sticks that was barely hardening before closing the refrigerator door.

It was now time to wait.

“I'm starving…” Minju complained.

“Shall we head out for dinner?” he asked.

“It's so hot outside though… I’m so sweaty. Let's just order in.”

He nodded and picked up a communicator, calling the nearest restaurant.

“What did you get?” Minju asked.

“Some spicy noodles and spicy tofu stew. We gotta combat the heat with more heat. Sweat it all out.”

“You always know what I like without me telling you,” Minju grinned. “Oh, I did buy some watermelon, shall we make some punch? I remember that we have some soda that is expiring soon.”

“Sure,” he nodded. Taking the quarter cut watermelon from the grocery bag, he began chopping the red flesh into cubes, throwing them into a fancy crystal bowl.

Minju grabbed four cans of soda and emptied them into the bowl, not before tossing the remaining leftover strawberries and mangoes into the bowl and gave it a good mix with a ladle.

“I could be a chef,” she boasted, giving the punch a small nod of approval after stealing a sip for a taste test.

“It's just fruit in soda,” he chuckled, scooping the punch into two glasses. He stuck a straw and an ice cream spoon in both glasses and topped it with some leftover mint leaves that had been sitting in the chiller for a week.

“Let's drink while we wait,” he said, walking towards the courtyard.

He took a seat on the wooden bench and Minju promptly joined him, settling by his side. She leaned back slightly and perched her body with one of her hands, the other holding on to her precious watermelon punch. Her body was flushed from the summer heat and glossy from sweat, but she paid the unpleasant feeling no mind while she sipped on the cooling fruity beverage.

“I love spending time with you like this,” she said. “I don't know why, but it feels like I’ve done this with you before. Countless times. Well, maybe not exactly the same, but yeah, if you get what I mean.”

He grabbed on to her hand and gave it a small squeeze.

“Maybe it's just your dreams? You do mumble in your sleep quite often.”

Minju sat forward and scooped a watermelon chunk into her mouth.

“Hmm… maybe. Anyway, it's not like it's anything bad. Probably déjà vu or something.”

Right then, a mini disc floated into their courtyard, a plastic bag hanging off it. It slowly descended, setting the bag down before flying off.

Their dinner had arrived.

He walked over and picked up the bag, bringing it back to the wooden bench. Untying the knot, he took out two metal tins before passing one to Minju. She opened it and took a whiff at the noodles within.

“They smell awesome~” she hummed.

He popped open the last container filled with spicy tofu stew and placed it between both of them, before running to the kitchen to fetch a sharing spoon.

"Let's eat,” he said.

The two of them chatted over dinner, but it was mostly Minju just listening to him talk. There was no end to the way he took care of her. One moment he was scooping a ladle full of vegetables and tofu for her, the other he was running back to the kitchen to refill her empty glass with more watermelon punch.

“Hey, y’know, what if we don't manage to even earn back enough to cover the rental?” Minju asked, slurping another mouthful of spicy noodles. “Or even sell half of the popsicles?”

He set his food down and reached his hand forward, wiping the beads of sweat that was flowing down her cheek. Sweat from both the summer heat and spicy food.

“We try again,” he said. “Summer’s just barely started after all. We could take the opportunity of the coming week to test our recipes.”

“But we don't really have any more money,” Minju mumbled, finishing up her last mouthful of food. Her lips were swollen from the spice, and she was desperately trying to “unswollen” it through her watermelon potion.

“You don't want anymore?” he asked, pointing at the remaining food.

“I'm full~”

He picked up the bowl of tofu stew that was almost empty and ate directly from it.

“I am an advocate of positive thinking. I refuse to believe that we can't sell any ice cream at all. How bad can it be?”

“I don't know?” Minju chuckled, laying down on the wooden bench, a palm placed over her belly that was full from dinner. “You know, there's this quote the King always says.”

“The one about some law or something?”

“Yea, he named it after himself, calling it King Cole’s Law, saying Anything that can go wrong, will go wrong.”

“Weren't there rumours that he stole the quote from a guy named Murphy?” he asked as he finished all the remaining food before picking up his glass of punch and sipped from it.

“Well, a lady named Miss Rumour whispered in my ears when I was shopping at the market, saying that there isn't a guy name Murphy anymore after he made noise about plagiarism. Miss Rumour speculated that he was offed.”

“Wow,” he said, leaning forward to poke her belly, telling her she'd get fat if she lied down immediately after dinner. “Oh well, no one can go against the King after all. Anything can be considered as treason if it displeases him. Anything else you heard from… Miss Rumour?”

“A few, but as I said, they're all baseless claims. There's one about a failed attempt to summon an evil god, and another about a brewing war with the heretics. There's even one about the launch of an anti-hair loss shampoo that's said to make a bald man grow half a metre of hair overnight!”

He laughed at the ridiculous stories that Minju spewed.

“Say…”

He looked at her with a puzzled expression.

“Yes, my dear Minju?”

“I don't know why, I'm always getting the feeling of people leaving me, or maybe me leaving people.”

She sat up and stirred her almost empty cup with the long spoon, stabbing and crushing the watermelon chunks within into chunks.

“What's gotten into you?” he asked, inching forward to rub his hand on her sweaty forehead, brushing the sweat off her wet and soaked hair. “Has the heat gotten to your head? You want to take a shower?”

Minju stared into his eyes, looking at his shining pupils, a million thoughts seemingly running through her mind.

“Caelan,” she called.

“Yes?”

Then her lips parted to ask him a question softly.

“Will you ever leave me?”

🍂 🍂 🍂

“I’m leaving tomorrow.”

He looked at her who had set down her knife and fork, staring at him with an unquantifiable sadness in her eyes.

“When?” he asked, trying to keep his voice steady, but there was a subtle crack inside that could never escape Minju.

“Tomorrow.”

He put down his fork and picked up the glass of water from the side, bringing it towards his mouth as the liquid inside shook and rippled with trepidation.

“Then I guess we should make the most of our time left together.”

Minju nodded and stood up, walking to his side. She grabbed on to his hand and pulled him upwards, leading him out of the dining room. He followed her quietly, watching her guide him down the hallway, past the countless windows that showed the setting golden sun. The leaves of the trees were orange-red, signifying the fading warmth of summer as the world around senesced into cool and chilly conditions.

Just like his relationship with her.

“Why didn’t you tell me earlier?” he asked, stopping in the middle of their walk.

“I didn’t want you to worry,” she said, stopping to turn and face him. “I know that you’ll worry because you always worry, and I didn’t want our remaining time spent together to be full of nothing but worry.”

She looked down at his hands and gripped it firmly.

“I’m sorry.”

He looked at her in the eyes. He thought of the times where they were inseparable. One time he was going out for a run with her, another she joined him as he tended to the shrubs and bushes in the courtyard.

He was always smiling.

And she was always smiling.

“I love it when you smile,” he said softly. “And I love it even more because you make me smile.”

Minju looked at him, her cheeks raising gently, face beaming into a wider grin.

“Then let’s keep on smiling.”

She pulled him into her embrace and hugged him tight, and he squeezed her even tighter.

“Shall we?” Minju said. “I don’t want to forget you.”

“Will you ever forget me?” he asked.

Minju let go and pulled his hand again, tugging him down the hallway, right into their room. The moment he entered, he was swirled with a tender force, and the next thing he knew, his back was met with the soft cushions of their mattress. Silky soft hair hung down her face as she looked at him in the eyes, her soft yet firm hands planted on either side of his head.

“Minju…” he muttered, his eyes drunk with desire.

“Today’s the last day I’ll be called by my name,” she whispered, her lips lowering onto his. Her breath was hot against his, and she could feel herself losing the little control she had left. “Tomorrow, I’ll only be known as Commander.”

Minju pressed her forehead against his, tears welling up in her eyes.

“So please… call my name like it’s the last time.”

She pressed her lips onto his, kissing him with all her love.

The love she gave to him. The love she had for him. And the love she had reserved for him.

Her heart wrenched with every passing second. She cupped his face as her tongue drove deep, drinking in his sadness and resentment at the world that stole them from each other. Their breaths drew short amidst the kiss, but neither of them wanted to let go of each other.

After what seemed like an eternity, he pushed her off and flipped her onto the bed, his body now mounting hers.

“Minju.”

She looked at him with glassy eyes. Her face was no longer pristine from the make out and her hair was in a mess, random strands splayed across the soft cushions, but neither of them cared.

“My dear,” she mumbled, blushing at the way he was staring at her.

“Minju.”

He reached towards the buttons on her dress and began loosening it.

“Minju.”

Each time he called her name, he removed a button. He made his way down, releasing her soft mounds from constriction, exposing the deep valley of her chest, airing the smooth and milky skin of her navel. He gently grabbed onto her sleeves and pulled them downwards, releasing her satin-soft, velvety skin that was supple as he undressed her entirely.

He took a look at her.

One look. Rays from the sun of the golden hour humbly graced her skin, casting their radiance on her.

A second look. An aura of shyness emanating out from the iron-willed goddess as she covered her breasts in embarrassment.

A third look. The forbidden warmth that was pulsing out from her core, one that was set to replace the dying summer heat.

He took many more looks at her, carving the memory of her beauty, her gaze, her breath, her smell… the memory of her into his mind.

“How long will you be gone?” he muttered, latching his mouth onto her earlobes, nibbling it softly.

“As long as it needs to be,” she grunted, shivers sent down her spine.

“When will you be back?” he asked, biting on her nape.

“As soon as I am done,” she moaned, her hands wrapping around his back.

“When will I see you again?” he growled, suckling one nipple as he kneaded the soft flesh of her other breast.

“When the war ends,” she cried, back arching off the bed from the incomprehensible pleasure.

He removed his clothes and tossed them to the side. They were now both naked and bare, bodies pulsing with the wanting heat and need for each other.

“You’re so hard,” she hummed, wrapping her fingers around his length. “Much harder than ever.”

He shivered as she gave him a few small strokes, drinking in the pleasure that he will probably never get to feel anymore. Kissing down her belly, he breathed at her snatch, before taking in a deep whiff of her addictive scent.

“You’re so wet,” he grunted, giving her wetness a long, drawn-out lick. “So sweet.”

Pressing his lips forward, he gave her folds a few rubs, making out with her pussy as he drank the nectar that was dispensing from within.

“I could drink this all day,” he mumbled with muffled groans, “but that’s not what we need right now.”

Lifting his body, he lined up the tip of his hardness and rubbed it up and down, mixing his leaking devotion with her craving wetness. He pushed in slowly, revelling in the parting of her folds, watching her eyes flutter and close in pleasure as he split her apart.

“I need you, Minju,” he declared, pressing his length further into her core. He felt her walls ripple and quiver around him, moulding into a sheath that was perfect for the shape of his cock. “And you need this. You need me.”

Minju hugged him close and nodded with desperation, feeling how he stretched her raw.

“Yes, only you. Always you.”

Once he was fully embedded in her, he leaned down to give her a deep, torrid kiss. At the same time, he lifted his hips and drew out his cock, feeling how her pussy squeezed and pulled, refusing to let him go.

But he forced it out.

Slam.

He plunged back in.

Minju yelped in pleasure, biting softly on to his lips, drawing out a drop of blood that she tasted with fervour. She felt his hard tip smash into her deepest spots, feeling the impact shock joy out into her bloodstream.

He pulled out again.

“More—”

Slam.

And more he delivered.

He pulled and pushed, withdrew and enter, unsheathed and sheathed.

He fucked her hard. He fucked her with ferocity. He fucked her with desperation.

He fucked her.

She took his cock. She took his pounding. She took his hammering.

She took him.

Each plunge into her depths made her cry out in euphoria, and each slide into her walls sent her towards nirvana. The bed was shaking as if an earthquake of unimaginable magnitude was tremoring throughout the plates of the world, but it was incomparable to the brewing disaster welling up in both her mind and core.

She was close.

Each pump of his cock into her wanton pussy sent her hurtling towards the edge. The edge which made her eyes roll and flipped her world upside-down. The edge which she wished would never disappear. The edge which she wanted to savour for the rest of her life.

“Minju.”

Her eyes flicked into focus as she answered his call.

“Minju.”

Her mouth parted and her throat dried.

“Minju.”

Her body trembled and shook, toes curling into unloosened arcs.

“Minju. Minju. Minju.”

He pumped into her with increasing intensity, pounding his fucks into her like his life depended on it. He watched her soul phase in and out of Styx, each easing pull making her faint, each crushing strike jolting her from unconsciousness.

She was close.

“Come for me, Minju.”

Right at that moment, she shattered on his command. She squealed and writhed as he continued pumping into her throughout her orgasm, her wetness exploding out to coat his length in warm tidal waves. Squelches filled the room and sex rivers soaked into the sheets as her orgasm waned, but he did not stop pumping.

Her eyelids were barely open, half-lidded from the pleasure that had swallowed her whole, but she could not faint, not before he filled her full. She cupped his face with both her hands and looked into his eyes, imprinting the look of his unending love and looming sadness that was drawn all over his face.

“Come for me, Trevor.”

He grunted and groaned and roared and moaned, unleashing waves after waves of come, filling her pussy with whiteness. She wrung the seed out of him, devouring it all with voracious hunger, making sure to not let a single drop go to waste.

After what seemed like eternity, he collapsed on the bed beside her and looked at the ceiling above, muttering softly.

“Please don't die.”

❄️ ❄️ ❄️

He was dead.

The tombstone carved with the words of solemnity.

The best colleague. The loveliest husband. The kindest father.

Minju stood up and set the white lily on the grave. She looked at the snow that covered the stone slab, watching the falling powder of chill that was sprinkling all over her flower. Soon it will be buried underneath all the other countless white lilies, yellow chrysanthemums and pale pink roses.

Just like how life that had ended was buried by brown snow.

She walked out of the graveyard with swollen eyes, trembling hands that were streaked with tears and snot. She shuffled through snow that reached half of her shin, wading through the white, powdered river that was filled by the punishing winter cold.

She opened the door to her house.

The warmer was already turned on and the soft glow of light from within offered her some solace from the pale white dusk outside.

She took off her boots and chucked them to the side to let the snow melt and dry, before settling into the warm, pillowy couch with her legs curled and tucked into her chest.

She stared at the ticking clock on the coffee table, watching time pass as if it were an infinite resource, except that it wasn't.

Infinite in relation to everything else unaffected by time, finite in relation to everything affected by time.

Life.

“Hey.”

A soft voice came from behind her.

She turned and looked at him, her sadness slightly fading into a soft, lethargic smile.

“Crestet,” she muttered, watching him settling into couch beside her.

“How are you feeling?”

She drew in a deep breath and leaned on his shoulder.

“It's ironic isn't it? He was such a good man. Friendly, doting, loving… he didn't deserve to die so young.”

Crestet hummed in approval and took her hand, rubbing the her palm with his calloused fingers.

“I was just thinking, life is such a fleeting thing. One moment you're working your hardest, trying your best to live life to the fullest, doing everything you can to make life better. The next? You could be struck by lightning. Killed in a car accident. Maybe choke on a fishball and die. Or like him, chosen to meet Death himself with a heart attack as the invitation.”

Crestet listened intently, absorbing all the sadness and frustration that Minju spewed.

She talked about her friend's life, how he had been closely supporting him from when they were childhood friends, how he had gave her both anger and happiness as a wonderful companion when they were playing at the woods, when they were mugging books for exams, when they were drinking their frustrations out from the overbearing boss.

Then she stopped.

She looked at her fingers.

“You know, I dream a lot.”

“I dreamt of a man named Theo who brought me lunch everyday despite being just a sous chef.”

“I dreamt of a man named Caelan who made ice cream popsicles together with me.”

“I dreamt of receiving love from Trevor who gave me his all despite me leaving for war.”

“I dreamt of Gary who shook and carried me out of a bar when I was drunk, tucking me safely into my bed even though I vomited all over him.”

“I dreamt of Marx who shielded me from the torrential rain with his only raincoat which got him drenched and subsequently sick with a high fever.”

Minju played with her hand, fiddling with the imaginary pen that was nested between the gaps of her fingers.

“I dreamt of many things. But everytime I try to remember his face, nothing comes up.”

She took a deep breath.

“Every dream ends right before I remember his face.”

She turned and looked at him.

“Every single one of them made me feel the way you made me feel.”

“I’m confused. I’m lost. I don't know what's going on with me.”

Minju started to cry.

“Are you angry?”

Crestet stared into her eyes and simply smiled at her.

“Were you happy in those dreams?”

Minju nodded.

“Are you happy right now?”

Her lips wavered at the question, but an answer came out immediately.

“Yes.”

The man leaned in and kissed her forehead.

New readers, fear not, this is a good place to jump right into the story. I hope you stay, I hope you enjoy it, I hope you get to read the rest if you haven't. Without further ado...

If someone had told Seungdae that he would ever debate himself whether he should go to Shin Ryujin's apartment or rest, he would have considered them crazy. Of course, he wanted to go to her place, but almost 72 hours after the events in his girlfriend's new house, he was still exhausted.

"I can't fucking believe myself," he grunted, accepting a glass of orange juice from his girlfriend as he tried to focus on his work.

"You used to work out at least three days a week before this whole thing started. You've barely set foot in the gym since then," she chuckled. "You know I've never liked exercising that much either, but how come I am in better condition than you?"

"Jin, my Queen, I've also been helping you move stuff around from your old apartment to this place, remember?" He smirked teasingly. "Plus, you've had years of experience fucking for hours in a row with multiple people. It's only been three months for me." Three months since he first fucked Momo, three months since he signed a contract to serve idols sexually.

"Oh, so you want another orgy with Twice to get in shape?" She grinned, playing the offended rather obviously before giving him a peck on the cheek.

"No, no… I mean, it would be great, but that's not what I— I'm just physically tired. Maybe mentally as well." He pursed his lips, pointing to his laptop. "I don't even know."

"Well, Ryujin has been waiting to see you since last week. Tzuyu's Japan for their concert, and I'll be on set the whole day. I say: finish your shift, eat, take a nap while Itzy performs, and go meet her." With a profound kiss and a reaffirming nod, she walked to the door, where her manager was already waiting for her.

Her suggestion was perfect, except for the accumulated chores in his own apartment. With no other option, he finished his hectic shift, loaded with all the missing work from the days off he had requested.

His apartment felt foreign. He had not slept there, much less alone, for over a week; one that felt like a month for him. Fighting Morpheus, he managed to do his laundry and clean a few more things that needed attention.

By the time he was done, Ryujin had already made it to her place and texted Seungdae to get there. As much as he needed to rest, after the little heart-to-heart they had on their last troublesome meeting, he wanted to check on her.

"Damn, dude, you look awful," she chuckled as soon as her door opened. Perhaps the truest version of Ryujin he had seen yet. Freshly showered, hair still damp, no makeup, just a big t-shirt covering her body, and, most importantly, no Light Fury around.

"You really know how to make anyone feel better." He shook his head while she welcomed him.

"Sorry, you look like a zombie," she giggled, showing him the slippers. "I hope you don't mind cats," she added, going to the living room. Three cats spread in their own corners. "Dallie, Bama, and Una."

"As long as they don't mind me, we should be good."

"Want a drink?"

He accepted, helping her carry a bottle of wine, some snacks, and two glasses to the living room. Even though he sat on one end of the couch, Ryujin sat right next to him, talking about her performance, and finished their first glass of wine. Naturally, he asked her about any improvement with Yeji.

"She's been a bit more open to suggestions. She's come here a bit more often to cuddle instead of me going to her place to fuck."

"But you're okay with that, right?"

"Oh, yeah. I don't think I can spend a week without her licking me, and it's the same for her," she giggled, running her tongue through her teeth. "It's strange, you know? I've always said yes to anything she asked…"

"I noticed," he grimaced, rolling his eyes.

"But now that I've started saying no to the stuff I don't want to do, she seems to pay more attention to me. She's tried harder to keep me happy and satisfied." She pursed her lips, nodding slightly.

"Who would have guessed that a woman with insane determination would like a challenge?" He giggled, drinking half his glass.

"It's not like I was her slave!"

"Might as well. And don't smile like that. I know the idea is tempting, but you've got to be firm when you tell her no or whatever."

"It's still hard! The moment she pouts, I just…" Ryujin bit her lower lip, tensing as she struggled to find the words.

"Lose it?" Seungdae smirked, thinking of how he still battled to say no to his girlfriend.

"Yes! But I know it's for the best, so I'm slowly getting there."

"Don't know, Ryu. I'll have to see it to believe it."

"Yeah? Why should I even listen to you?" She scoffed, finishing her second glass.

"Well, for starters, I'm older than you."

"Like that makes a difference. You haven't even asked Tzuyu or your 'non-girlfriend' to formalize," she grinned, pushing him with her elbow and getting her legs up on the couch. After a moment of confused silence from him, she giggled. "Jihyo unnie told me about that the day after we…"

"Got it. Just so you know, Jin and I are now a proper couple," he stated, drinking more wine before leaving his glass on the table.

"Not Tzuyu?"

"Jin and I go way, way back. It's different with Tzuyu. She asked me to wait until she was ready. We're enjoying the moment, you know?"

"This Jin must be amazing if you made her your girlfriend before Tzuyu unnie, huh?"

"She truly is." He relaxed, letting his arm rest on Ryujin's bare thigh.

"Come on," she elbowed him. "Show me a pic of her! I want to see whose your favorite pussy!"

"She's my favorite everything," he declared without thinking. "Well, Tzu's thighs… All of her body, really, is unbeatable. But you know what I mean."

"What makes Jin so special, then? Is it her curves?" Ryujin leaned onto him, drawing a woman in the air.

"I mean, she's not voluptuous…"

"I didn't think you'd focus only on that, considering how you look at me." She pressed her hands through her chest, allowing the loose fabric to outline her nipples. Then, she leaned back to stretch her legs, getting them close to his face to draw his attention.

He followed her right foot as it ran through her left shin. When he turned to face Ryujin, she had already taken her t-shirt off, revealing her modest boobs and small black panties outlining her cameltoe. "Ryu… Don't torture me like that."

"I'm just getting comfortable," she shrugged, standing to fill her glass of wine.

Time slowed down while he scanned her shoulders, the line of her column, and her slim waist, hypnotized by her hips and the crease of her buttcheeks.

"I trust you'll keep your part of the deal." She turned back, smirking devilishly and signaling him to drink.

'Hands away from her holes, dick out of her way,' Seungdae thought repeatedly, finishing the glass quickly and handing it back for her to fill it again.

"It wouldn't be fair to make you compare Jin to Tzuyu unnie." Ryujin stood up in front of him, laughing at his erection, growing as much as his frustration. "But you can compare her to me! Is she taller?" She asked playfully, placing her hand over her head.

He sighed, standing up and fixing his erection in his pants, not caring about her laugh. "I think you're barely taller than her," he replied, pulling Ryujin as close to his chest as possible.

She slapped his arm and made him cup her face with his hands, raising her eyebrows and pouting exaggeratedly.

"She's cuter than you, no doubt. But you've got way more stomach to do aegyo than her," they chuckled while she guided his hands to her small breasts. "She's got more tits than you, but that's not hard," he joked, pinching her nipples.

"Funny." She rolled her eyes and pushed him back on the couch before taking his hands to her waist.

"Your hips are wider," he let out, tensing his fingers as they slid under the hem of her panties, feeling alcohol clouding his mind.

"Take them off if you want, but you'll be the one suffering," she whispered with a cocky smirk. His digits rested over the fabric, but they kept pressing on her flesh. "Gosh, you're so easy to tease."

"This is not teasing. It's torture."

"One that you also enjoy," she scoffed, pushing him with her right foot on his chest, then wiggling her toes for him. "Are her feet prettier than mine?"

He took her ankle and her calf. "You really love people praising your feet, huh?" He scoffed, daring to kiss her sole.

"Yes," she admitted right away. "And you like them too, so no harm," she giggled, trying to take Seungdae's nose with her toes until she caught it. "Come on!" She whined dramatically while he grunted. "I'll show you something from Yeji unnie and me." Ryujin sat on his thigh, opposite to where his erection was, purposefully rubbing her pussy on him.

He felt her meaty lips pressing on his leg as her moist warmth passed through the fabric of his jeans. "You're a fucking headache… I got hours of you two," he replied, pretending to be angry, and pressing his hands against her waist.

"I can set you up with any of my friends!"

"I can have Jihyo unnie arrange that for me already."

"She'll think you're just another guy trying to fuck his way around us, and you know how protective she is of her precious maknae," Ryujin whispered, tapping his chest with both hands, watching him frown and look to the side.

"Can't say you're wrong."

"Then I can make that happen organically!"

"You won't stop teasing me until I tell you, right?" Seungdae tensed his thigh, trying to make her move, but she moaned instead. Clearly fake, but effective. "I fucking hate you."

"You can't hate me," she grinned widely, showing her whiskers.

"Might as well," he sighed in defeat, rolling his eyes. "Any of your friends?"

"IU sunbaenim is your girlfriend?" She exclaimed, standing up to see him whole after he explained that 'Jin' was a childhood nickname for Jieun and the most relevant intricacies of their relationship. "Nah, dude, that's bullshit."

He handed her his phone so she could see some pictures of them, including some with Jongsuk, proving his words and how functional their dynamic had become.

"Does Twice know?"

"We all spent last Wednesday together. Jieun and Tzuyu got along pretty well," he chuckled, happy to say that truth.

"Motherfucker. No wonder you said you'll be drained," she grimaced, digesting the news.

"One of me versus ten of them," he laughed at her reaction and how even her cats stared at Ryujin pour another full glass of wine for herself.

"Boo boo! Our precious server has too many pussies to fuck!" She drank it empty, shaking her head.

They kept drinking and teasing each other, but Ryujin promised to keep the secret. After finishing almost a full bottle of wine each, she chuckled at the sight of Seungdae, already asleep on her couch with Bama on his chest and Una curled in his arm.

He didn't wake up until the sun hit his eyes. Disoriented and feeling weight over his torso, he noticed that the couch he was on had turned into a bed. Then he realized Ryujin was sleeping on top of him.

'Thank god,' he sighed at the sight of her huge t-shirt over her, before hearing a not-so-subtle giggle. "Tell me nothing happened," he requested, tensing his whole body.

"You wish!" She chuckled, turning to face him. "I just unbuttoned your pants so you could be a bit more comfortable."

"Didn't occur to you that not having you on top would be better?"

"Bama and Una were already here, and after fixing the couch, it looked too cozy," she explained, lifting her torso just enough to see him at eye level.

"Ryu, I don't trust myself with you like… This!" Seungdae admitted, unable to keep his eyes from her perky tits, fully visible from the neck of her t-shirt.

"Luckily for us, I do!" She sat on his crotch, instantly jumping from it. "Was that your morning wood or conscious you?"

Despite the scare and having some of the events from the previous night tangled in his mind, his time with Ryujin helped him recover just enough to face another week of work.

Days went by, and he watched Twice's Lollapalooza performance live with Jieun and Jongsuk at her place, congratulating the girls together right after. Pleased with the expected praise from his friend about having fucked all nine of them, igniting a playful fire in their girlfriend, he felt thankful for his normal job. Even though it kept him on edge, since his team had stuck to working remotely, he could enjoy moments like that, and welcome Tzuyu back to Korea the following day.

"I really needed that," the maknae sighed, snuggling her face on his chest after enjoying a delicious dinner and a good massage from Seungdae.

"You deserve it after that performance and those flights," he chuckled.

"You do realize this is just beginning, right?" She voiced softly, pouting.

"You flying every other day?" He frowned, and she nodded slowly. "Yeah, very aware of that."

"Will you get tired of me because of it?"

He laughed at the question. "Tzu, my angel, that won't be a problem, trust me. I know how to deal with that."

She whined as his phone vibrated. "Please tell me if you feel tired, okay? Physically, mentally, emotionally… I'm also here for you."

"Do you want to study me like you did Nayeonie?" He laughed, pulling her in for a kiss.

"You'd make a very good subject of study," she smiled widely, giving him another peck.

"I'm up for that! As long as you state your bias for me on paper," he added, making her laugh. In a split second, he thanked the universe for having her in his life, then rolled his eyes at his vibrating phone. "What the fuck is going on?"

With Tzuyu giggling over him and no reason to hide his messages, he unlocked his phone to see the swarm of texts from Ryujin. Both their faces furrowed in confusion and worry.

"Go," Tzuyu said softly, kissing his cheek.

"We've barely had any time for us, and I'd really like to make the most of it before your vacation," he replied without thinking, watching her face turn serious. "Plus, I've got a feeling this is another trap like…" Seungdae sighed, pursing his lips.

"Even if it is, after she found out about Jieun unnie and you, it won't be like that time."

"I'd rather not find out. You just got here and—"

A profound kiss. Enough to silence him and bring him back to reality. "Baobei, I know you're thinking she might actually be in some sort of trouble." She smiled kindly at him, holding his cheek. "Just promise you'll be here when I wake up tomorrow. And Thursday," she added with a smirk.

He sighed, nodding, falling a little extra for her. "I promise… Thank you." He took a moment to calm the turmoil of thoughts and emotions going through him. "I'll leave my laptop here, alright?"

The maknae giggled, knowing that would guarantee his return in the morning.

"Wait, what did you call me?" Seungdae stopped at the door with a confused smile.

Tzuyu's eyes widened. "Baobei?" She asked quietly, pursing her lips but staring directly at him. He nodded. "Think of it as 'jagi' but in Mandarin," she said shyly. "Is it okay to call you that?"

Moved, he smiled and returned to kiss her. "More than okay," he reassured her. "I never asked. Is it okay if I call you 'my angel'?"

"Yes! I like it a lot," she giggled, biting her lip. "Now go!" She chuckled, kissing him again and gently pushing him.

Happy with how things were going with Tzuyu, but frustrated by the overall situation, he drove to the hotel Ryujin mentioned under the pretense that she didn't want to make a scene after getting hurt alone in her room in the middle of the night. As instructed, he entered the lobby, provided his name at reception, and was given a tag to enter the room.

"Ryu?" He asked loudly as soon as he closed the door behind him. "You've got to be kidding me," he sighed, perplexed at the elegant silhouette of a slim woman sitting on the bed, outlined by the city lights entering through the immense windows behind her.

"That's a very rude greeting coming from a server," she chuckled, turning the lamps on with a remote in her hand.

"Yeah, sorry. I was…" Starstruck by Karina's features revealed by the warm lights. Hair up in a bun, accentuating her long neck and her outfit: a tank top that did nothing to hide her heavy breasts, revealing her navel, and a pair of jeans that hugged her hips tightly. Despite her amazing figure, his eyes could not gravitate away from her face, framed by her bangs.

"Expecting to see poor Ryujinie hurt somewhere in the room?" She tried to control her laugh, making him conscious of his basic outfit. "To be honest, I was not expecting her to tell you she had broken her leg or something." She shook her head, hearing his phone buzzing. "You may want to check that," she said with a smirk.

RJ: I keep my promises. Treat her well and enjoy, dumbass!

"What exactly did she tell you?" He scoffed, pressing his temple.

"Whoa. No server protocol, no proper introduction. You're truly new to this thing, right?" She pursed her lips, curious about how unorthodox he already was compared to other servers.

He breathed deeply, extending his hand and accepting the change of plans. "Hwang Seungdae. Quite literally at your orders."

"Karina. But you already knew that." She shook his hand gladly.

Her skin was warm and incredibly soft, proper for one of the most desired women in the country. Still, he was taken from Tzuyu's bed to be there, and his face demanded an explanation.

"I guess you're not into Ryujin's pranks," she smiled, inviting him to sit next to her.

"Is this a prank?" He accepted her offer, noticing a backpack on the floor.

"Yeah, one where the whole hotel is under a big NDA," she giggled, then froze at his seriousness. "Not really. I mean, the whole staff has to sign NDAs to be hired, but when your almost-lesbian friend says she found a good server, you listen. Even more so when said server has a five out of five approval from Itzy and an astonishing nine out of nine from Twice." Karina nodded, pouting and opening her hands in the air.

One big hit to the brain after another. "Did you talk with anyone from Twice?" He asked, focused on the most pressing matter.

"Jihyo unnie," she smiled kindly. "I told her I had heard about you, and she confirmed the legend," Karina added, licking her lips, scanning him. "You know? Men are usually a bit more enthusiastic when they get a chance to have sex with me. Even more so when they'll get paid to do that."

"Oh, I am, it's just that I was—"

"Busy with your girlfriend?" She chuckled, taking him aback. "They didn't say anything else, and I honestly don't care to know more about you aside from what you can offer to me."

"Thank you?" Seungdae mouthed, getting into his role. "I am here to serve you, right? What do you want?" He smiled confidently.

"Cocky," she murmured. "Look, I haven't been with a man in quite some time, but I have hundreds of them…"

"Thousands," he raised his eyebrows.

"… at my disposal. Good for you to know!"

"Quite impossible to ignore. Just like you," he tilted his head, glancing at her boobs.

Karina smiled and rolled her eyes. "What makes you different than other servers? Other than your nine-inch cock."

"Eightish…"

"Humble, huh? I can get that and the big cock from other servers. Or toys if I want to avoid the trouble," she whispered at the end, leaning forward to tease him with her cleavage.

"Very true," he nodded, leaning closer to get a better look at all of her. "I'm good with my tongue," he acknowledged.

"I have Minjeongie for that," she smirked, letting her words sink in his mind.

"I'm good with my fingers," he added after a moment of silence.

"I got all of Aespa, plus Yeji and Ryujinie," Karina grinned, raising her eyebrow, an inch closer to him.

"That's playing dirty," he replied, leaning a bit more until he felt her breath on his lips.

"Whatever you're imagining, yes. It happened," she chuckled, staring into his eyes.

His mind ran a movie of Karina in Itzy's dungeon in just half a second. Overwhelmed with the idea, his mind plucked an old line from his memories. "I can give you the queen treatment…" he whispered, daring to gently caress her jawline before suddenly pushing her against the mattress, getting on top of her. "Or fuck you like a whore if that's what you need."

Karina pursed her lips in surprise and approval. "Tempting, but you'll need more than that," she teased him with her eyes, running the tip of her fingers through his torso.

He stared into her eyes in silence, prompting her curiosity. Then he leaned towards her lips, dodging them to reach her ear. "When was the last time you got fucked so good you actually dropped your mask?" He whispered, getting back to her mouth to kiss her, taking her gasp away from her lips.

She followed along, feeling his hand on her waist. "That was low," Jimin replied with a smirk in her natural deep voice, fisting the hem of his pants.

"Some time, then?" He joked, making her roll her eyes as he pulled her in for a kiss. The tongue technique, the tempo, the smooth way in which she unbuckled his belt as she let his hand move up to her ribs; everything was perfect.

"Show me what I'll be working with," Karina whispered, feeling his trimmed bush with her fingertips.

"As you wish," he replied, giving her another peck before standing tall, admiring the way her breasts sat on her chest while she rested on her elbows. He tried to play the professional server role by taking off his plain t-shirt with a single arm and letting his pants fall, revealing his semi-hard bulge as he stepped out of his jeans.

"It's not as threatening as they made it out to be," she giggled, stretching her leg to touch it with her toes, using the remote to close the curtains.

"Are you used to big cocks?" He smirked, letting her play with the hem of his trunks.

"Not really. But I've had my fair share of BBC," she whispered, letting his shaft spring free before taking it with her soles.

"Did Ryujin tell you anything else?" Seungdae shook his head, lusting over Karina's long legs, unable to ignore her black pedicure.

"Something about how easy it is to tease you," she scoffed, feeling him get fully hard on her feet.

"As much as I'd love you to continue, it is supposed to be me servicing you," he voiced, feeling her toes wiggle around his girth. "Unless you're actually into this."

"Force of habit," she admitted with a wide smile, standing up to hold his cock while she unbuttoned her jeans with one hand. "But you're right," she nodded.

"So," he grinned, pulling her blouse up, "what do you want?"

Her top came off, revealing a strapless bra that held on to dear life to keep her milkers covered. Rolling her eyes, Karina held her laugh, stepping out of her jeans, thinking of his question as his jaw fell. "Eat me," she whispered flirtily after a few seconds. "If you do it well, I may let you shove this thing inside of me," she winked at him, making his length bounce with her index finger.

Seungdae laughed at her unserious wink while she threw herself on the mattress, wiggling her way to the middle of the king-size bed, admiring the jiggle physics in her boobs. A bit dumbfounded, he took a deep breath and crawled his way to kiss her.

"Nuh-uh," she stopped him. "You already kissed me, and you passed. Down. No hands, understood?"

He nodded, turned on by her challenging eyes. "You know Jihyo tested me on all this before I signed my contract, right?" He voiced, kissing her clavicle and laughing when Karina firmly yanked his hair when he brushed her tit, taking him down to her flat stomach.

"I like to make my own judgment," she whispered in a flirty smile, focusing on the way he worshiped her.

"Leave the rest to me, then," he smirked, biting the hem of her panties, forcing one side down her hips, then the other, then biting the center.

Impressed, Karina cooperated, raising her hips and letting her feet caress his torso as he slid the fabric down her long legs. "Don't even think about keeping them," she said in her real tone, making him release her panties from his jaw and swiftly throwing them at her. "Thanks!" She smiled kindly, spreading her legs for him.

Heaven presented itself to Seungdae. Her beautiful legs framed her puffy cunt, adorned with a neatly trimmed bush. He leaned forward, trying to catch her smell, but it wasn't until he was almost kissing her petals that her musk hit him. Staring directly into her eyes, he kissed her inner thighs, noticing the subtle tension in her muscles, and paying full attention to her breathing as his lips got closer to her vulva.

"That feels nice," Jimin exhaled, letting her head rest on the pillows.

No reply from him. No more words from her. While she allowed herself to enjoy his lips, he focused on the task, closing his eyes until his mouth pressed against her meaty pussy.

The first profound lick released a soft coo from her lips, soon turning into soft moans that became affirmations of what he should continue doing; something he followed to the letter.

"Did Ryujinie tell you anything about me?" Karina wondered, bringing back her tension just when it was about to disappear.

"You mean?" He asked, hiding his frustration, but not missing one beat of his tongue swirling.

"You're… You're doing it a bit too well," she giggled, sinking on the bed, self-conscious about the little swaying of her hips.

Seungdae chuckled directly on her folds, licking all the way from her entrance to her clit before replying. "Only that your tits are really fun to play with," he shared before capturing her sensitive bean between his lips, sucking it tightly.

"Fuck," Karina let out, shaking her head. "Just keep doing that." She reached for his hair to hold him tightly.

Intrigued, he obeyed, savoring her as much as he could, and before he knew it, perfection. Her cute gasps, her contained breasts going up and down with each breath, her sweet moans, the rocking of her hips on his mouth, the gentle grip on his scalp, and even the little commands she gave him; everything was worthy of a painting.

Despite how much he enjoyed every bit of it, he did his best to give her more, letting her performance fuel his lust. Using his whole mouth, he devoured her cunt, making sure every crease of her tiny inner lips would get a proper lick, never missing the momentum he had with her clit, attacking it just enough to build her orgasm lick by lick until her controlled moans slowly turned into louder whimpers.

Jimin tried to resist, noticing her breathing grew troubled while she bit her lower lip and her small hand clenched tighter on his hair. He had the technique, and she enjoyed it, but the drive and the devotion to pleasure her was palpable. "Freaking Ryujin," she mumbled, shaking her head as she let go of the brakes. She tugged his hair with both hands, rubbing his face on her pussy. Slowly, she pulled his mouth to her clit and locked his face against it.

Seungdae understood and suctioned the upper part of her vulva, using only the tip of his tongue to give her that extra push to her climax. Her legs told him everything her muted voice could not. The more they trembled, the closer she was to her orgasm, and when the time came, her perfect thighs shut like a bear trap around his head.

Karina tried to push him away from her cunt, but he fought back, not bothered by pressure in his skull or the yanking of his hair. Without putting his hands on her, just as she requested, he latched onto her clit, deafened by her flesh, and fighting with her convulsions until there was no strength in her shaky legs.

"Head… I could've… Are you… That was…" Jimin panted with a wide smile, ogling his tongue while he cleaned his lips.

"Need a minute?" He smirked, walking on his knees towards the headboard to carry her in his lap, triggering smaller waves of shuddering through her body by the pressure of his arms around her.

"Don't l-laugh." She slapped him on his chest, allowing herself to be pampered by him as her hand fell, finding his rod.

"What's next, boss?" He smirked, brushing her waist.

"Oh, you're fucking me with this m-monster, that's for sure!" Karina tilted her head, feeling his length.

"Whenever you want," Seungdae patted her back. "Just remember you're not on a stage," he chuckled.

"What do you mean?" She asked, narrowing her eyes, trying to squeeze his girth.

"Just that there's no need to put on a whole show with the extra seductive movements, the extra sweet moans, and even the 'uncontrollable' orgasm," he mocked her, holding her closely.

"You may be the first man to eat my pussy and complain about me right after," she raised her eyebrows, approaching his face.

"Not a single soul would complain about it. I'm just saying there's no need to add all those theatrics," he said calmly as her grip loosened. "Remember, I'm here to please you and not the other way around. Even though I really enjoyed the performance."

Jimin buried her elbow in his stomach, but smirked at him. "The whole orgasm was real. I just look that good when I cum."

"Maybe. What about the back bending and the hands?" He imitated her, trying to make her laugh.

"I didn't want to break your neck, but you were glued to my cunt!" She scoffed with a smile, then rolled her eyes at his skeptical face. "It's not easy to drop the act, okay?" Her tongue poked her cheek, trying to control herself. "Do you know what it's like having to be flawless all the fucking time?"

"I've seen some of its consequences," he admitted, twisting his mouth. "But I know it's different for everybody in the industry. I can't imagine what it's been like for you."

Karina breathed deeply, lips fighting to keep the words in.

"Come on. You can vent with me." His reassuring smile pushed her a little further.

"You're going to learn why we don't talk about it, sir."

"I'm all ears."

"Remember you're the one who asked for it," she pointed at him, and he nodded.

Exhaling, she snuggled up on his chest to avoid his face. "It's exhausting." Her hands instantly became an extension of her voice, showing her anger as tension in her fingers. "Way before debuting, they drill the idea into your brain until you become aware of every possible reflection or every possible camera, just in case someone catches a bad angle of yours." She scoffed. "It's gotten to the point that no matter where I am, I can see myself from outside my body just to keep myself in check, because God forbid I look at someone the wrong way, and now the whole country thinks I'm a bitch! Do you know how hard it is to treat everyone kindly when your cramps are actively trying to kill you?"

Pause. Jimin turned to gaze at his calm face. Seungdae nodded gently. She continued.

"Then you debut, and of course, you offer yourself as the group's tribute to protect your members because that's what a leader does! So now you have to learn to be perfect while you're literally getting fucked by men you find utterly disgusting. They make you watch every possible angle of them using you until you've mastered how to be the perfect fuck toy for them," Karina sneered with anger, but a bit of pride. "If that were not enough, you become so obscenely good that even if your members offer themselves as tribute to give you some rest, your company still sends you with them unless your assets don't fit with their sick fetishes!"

She went quiet, realizing how tense her fingers were and how quickly she was breathing. Trying to collect herself, she faced him. "S-sorry. I didn't want to—"

"Don't be sorry," he held her tightly. "Wasn't tributing supposed to get the rest of the group out of the menu?"

She scoffed. "You would think so, but not all companies are JYPE. SM will only accept volunteers if it's convenient for them. And I was too convenient for them not to offer me to the investors."

Silence for a minute. Like every company, JYPE had its flaws, but at least they respected someone's sacrifice. 'Probably a legacy rule from JY Park himself,' he thought with Tzuyu, Jeongyeon, and Dahyun in his mind.

Jimin sighed deeply, decompressing and bringing Seungdae back to reality. "Enough reason to be self-conscious all the fucking time, isn't it?" She shook her head and lay on his chest again, reaching for his semi-hard cock to play with it, thrilled by how hot it felt in her hand. "I've made my peace with sex, if you're worried about it. I like it as much as everyone, but it's just easier for me to sleep with women," she stated with a smirk. "I really like to feel a good dick inside of me, though," she added in a very intentional seductive tone.

Seungdae held his chuckle. His mind went back and forth between what Karina just shared, the many times he had seen that pain in Jieun, and imagining what it might have been like for Tzuyu when she first tributed all those years back. Still, Jimin's voice hit all the right points in his brain to bring his erection back. "That's one way to change subjects."

"You asked for it, remember? But thank you." She paused to stare at his confused expression. "I didn't tell you anything I had not talked about before with my therapist, but I feel lighter now," she chuckled. "Unlike your cock," she smiled widely, softly slapping his member against her hand.

"I am here to serve," he replied out of words.

"Let me give you a treat for being so kind," Karina grinned, wiggling her way down to suck his shaft.

'Fuck me,' Seungdae thought, partially regretting his next action. "I'll gladly take that offer, but first," he held her by her jaw to make her sit on his lap, taking the chance to admire her heavy jugs, still fighting to be freed. "What does Yu Jimin want?" He pulled her in for a kiss that she reciprocated. While they hugged, he noticed that the more he pressed on her flesh, the deeper she inhaled, and the closer she pulled him to her own body. In a quick movement, he spun her against the mattress, keeping his right hand on her back.

"You may actually be worth Ryujin's money," Jimin purred, reaching for his dick.

"Is she the one paying for this?" Honest surprise.

"Money in your pocket and me in your arms. You must have made a really good impression on her."

"I'm as surprised as you are," he smirked, unhooking her bra and throwing it away with his left hand. "Fuck," he let out, amazed by the effect gravity had on her tits.

Jimin shrank for a moment, covering part of her face with her small hands, and stopping her breasts from spreading with her elbows.

"Guard's still up," Seungdae chuckled, kissing her again to bite her lips. "Don't tell me you're insecure about your boobs."

"I'm not! I know they look great!" She twisted her body but stayed close to his lips. "It's a little different when I'm not wearing a bra," she mumbled quickly, crossing her arms.

"Jimin, they're fantastic. I'm sure even Jihyo has told you that, and I think she knows a thing or two about big tits." He kept his smile while she nodded at his words, grimacing slightly. "What is it?"

"Men," she sighed, defeated, but finding his confused face endearing. "Mine are not like Jihyo unnie's. Hers always sit nicely no matter what she wears, and they keep their shape even when she's lying down. With or without milk, mine are…"

"Saggy?" Silence. Seungdae's mind focused so much on imagining how sweet her milk could taste that he spoke without thinking. He gulped audibly, knowing he had fucked up.

"Yes," she hissed. "I thought doing that would make them firmer, but even full, they were still… Saggy." She might as well have killed him with her eyes. "So I stopped with those damn hormones. Honestly, I don't know how Jihyo unnie still does it."

He lay on his side, next to her. While a part of him was thirsty for her, the rest of him was mad, wondering how the industry had managed to make a woman as gorgeous as Karina feel insecure about her incredible body. "Something about her mommy kink, I guess," he murmured.

"Does she really have a mommy kink?" Jimin sat suddenly, holding her laugh, showing her large, clear nipples hanging loosely, reaching the crook of her elbow.

"Is that what it takes for you to stop covering yourself?" He scoffed, triggering a real laugh from her as he admired the way her breasts became fuller at the lowest point. "You didn't hear that from me, alright?" He sat to meet her face, holding her cheek.

"Fine, fine." She kept on chuckling, letting him pull her for a kiss, guiding his hand to her bare boobs. "Do you really like them?" She asked weakly, making his fingers curl on her heavy knockers.

"Let me prove it to you," he smirked, lying her down, finally getting her nipples into his mouth.

Surprisingly for her, he remained completely quiet, enjoying the softness of her boobs and the way they moved between his fingers and his mouth. Unsure, Jimin tried to relax.

His initial licks on her left nub were adorable. It was clear he was used to firmer tits, and considering what she knew of his history, it made sense. However, he quickly found the best way to grab most of her boob one one hand, giving her a good breast massage while he sucked one of her nipples. Soon, he took Karina's milkers and squeezed them together, easily taking both nipples into his mouth, causing her to chuckle amidst her arousing humming.

"Told you there's no milk in them," she giggled, playing with the back of his hair.

"Doesn't make them any less addictive," he replied, latching onto her right nipple while his hands ran down her body.

Jimin could only focus on his touch. His firm hands held her body with such hunger, and yet, his skin caressed hers with incredible delicacy. It wasn't until his digits reached her hipbones that she realized the sway of her own hips. She caught the sound of his breathing, growing louder and giving her mind something to hold on to as she closed her eyes.

She released a satisfied giggle when their respiration synced right before his fingers brushed her folds. "Please," she moaned, holding his head and her free tit firmly in anticipation.

The following moan was loaded with relief. His digits entered her pussy, slowly spreading her walls. "Just like that," Karina whimpered at the waving of his fingers inside of her, slowly increasing their speed until they reached that of her own heart.

Even though she felt incredibly tight, her drenched petals allowed him to move smoothly inside her cunt and feel the texture of her walls. "I'd love to see these bouncing," he smiled at the way she guided his mouth to her left nipple. Subtle, but Seungdae heard a scoff coming from her, accompanied by a minute clenching of her pussy around his fingers. "You like the idea?"

She whined, clenching his hair as he circled her areola with his tongue. His digits went slightly deeper into her core, emphasizing the in-and-out motion while she fought her own judgment. "Yes," she sighed with a grin, pulling him up to kiss him. "Just fuck me already."

"How do you want it?" He chuckled against her lips, hands wandering freely over her body.

"You… You said something about… Fucking me so good… I'd drop my mask." Jimin stopped their kiss, holding his face firmly with both hands, aware that her whole face showed that desperate need. "I want that," she requested with a shy smile and a tint of fear in her eyes.

He slid his fingers out of her cunt and took them to his mouth, savoring her nectar, and bringing a wider smirk to her lips. "Remember, you can say no at any moment." He leaned for one more peck and jumped off the bed, opening the curtains in the room.

"What?" She exclaimed, watching herself reflected in the large windows, covering her body before he turned off the lights with the remote, throwing it back onto the bed. 'When did he…?' Her thoughts were interrupted by the lamp on the desk turning on, adding a warm light to the bedroom.

He offered his hand.

Fearful but intrigued, Jimin stepped down the bed and took it, letting him guide her to the windows.

"Just enough light for your body." He said, going to the lamp to make the light hit her right side, adding some sticky notes from the desk to soften the upper area.

She covered her body, but stayed there. "W-What if someone recognizes me?"

"You took precautions before coming here, right?" He waited a second, and she nodded. "If no one followed, no one would think of you if they even glance at the hotel. Plus, if you can't see your face from here, neither could they. The city is too busy," he reassured her, standing behind her and grabbing her jugs. "But some lucky guys may get to see this pair of majestic tits dangling as I fuck you," he whispered, kissing her neck while her eyes remained fixed on her own reflection.

He was right. She could still clearly see the streets. The lamp only provided a faint view of her body, right under her ribs. Anything above that was too poorly lit to produce a clear image.

"Too risky," she voiced before welcoming his fingers into her mouth, sucking them eagerly.

"Perhaps for the idol in you, too perfect for anyone to see her saggy tits hanging freely," he voiced, grabbing her heavy udder with one hand while covering his cock with her saliva before gently pushing her shoulders forward until her arms rested on the window. She gasped, instinctively raising her hips. "But I'm sure Yu Jimin would love the thrill and the praise," he scoffed, aligning the tip of his shaft against her drenched entrance, gaze freely at her firm ass and tight puckered hole.

Her heart pounded as she bit her lips and gulped audibly. "Take my phone and record it," she said quickly without moving. He hummed. "I-I'd like to see it later."

"As you wish," Seungdae whispered, caressing her buttcheeks.

While he went to the shelf next to the headboard to leave the phone recording, Jimin got lost in her own reflection, imagining her silhouette on the camera, then scanning what little she could recognize outside. Cars moving, people walking on the street, a man staring out from a window in another building.

She exhaled, feeling his glans brush against her wet folds, realizing she was still a bit sensitive from her previous orgasm. She breathed in, then out, and leaned more against the window, sending her hips back, taking his girth. "You're t-thick," she grunted, tensing her fingers and toes, slowly taking more of him into her pussy.

"And you're deliciously tight," he replied, gripping onto her hips firmly while her cunt adjusted around his shaft. For a moment, he focused solely on his manhood and the way her walls caressed his dick, enveloping it in her slick warmth until he felt a hard stop inside of her.

Jimin scoffed, shaking her head. "You'll have to fuck your way in," she suggested in a seductive tone.

He leaned forward, running his hand through her stomach and then to her left boob, feeling its whole weight, shape, and size. "You don't have to force this pretty pussy," he whispered, kissing her neck.

A confident chuckle. "I can take you whole, Hwang Seungdae." She turned a bit to kiss him, swaying her hips forward, then back, taking another half an inch of him. "Fuck me until you make me cum," she grinned, biting his lip. "That's an order," she added, releasing him and turning to the window to watch her reflection.

He complied, rocking his hips and feeling her cunt gripping onto his cock and enjoying the softness of her breasts, particularly her nipples, while he played with both of them.

This time, Jimin let her moans come out freely, flowing as her body demanded after every thrust until she chuckled at the sensation of his pubes brushing her outer lips. "Told you," she giggled proudly, clenching her pussy the moment he had his whole length inside of her.

What was meant to tease him worked, but it also backfired on her. His deep grunt, accompanied by a hard twitch on her nipples, pulling them down in a single motion, awakened her submissive side. Her moans turned into whimpers, and her arms slowly gave up any strength that kept her from resting her face on the cold glass. "F-Fuck me," she requested with a smile, watching her breath on the window, and arching her back.

Seungdae scoffed, giving a last firm and aggressive squeeze to her boobs before moving his hands down to her hips. Holding her firmly, he rammed her cunt, causing her udders to slam against the glass repeatedly.

"Mhmm!" Jimin whined, feeling the way Seungdae's manhood reshaped her insides while his fingers slid to her lower belly, pressing it firmly. Every inner sensation and the mental image became even clearer in an instant. "Just like that," she groaned, swaying her hips against him, melting beneath him.

A moment of doubt. She never groaned during sex with men. Even more so, her breathing was always controlled, and right there she was already breathing shakily, showing her teeth with half her face pressed against the window.

"Please don't stop," she begged, failing to grab his ass but digging her nails into him on her next attempt. "Please," Jimin implored, mind clouding in pleasure.

His left hand moved through her stomach, then between her bouncing milkers and up to her long neck, pressing it firmly, but leaving her throat free to whimper as her body needed. Lastly, his right hand went down to her folds.

"Y-Yes!" She shouted right when his middle and ring fingers rubbed her clit, making her torso press hard against the window, spreading her large breasts between her forearms while he practically carried her. The cold glass on her nipples made her realize she was on her tiptoes, desperately swaying her hips, adding the right amount of self-realization to surrender to her needs.

"Wouldn't it be lovely if someone saw you right now?" He whispered in Jimin's ear. She hummed, clenching her pussy. Slowly, he used his biceps to press her arms together. "I bet they would masturbate thinking of these precious tits, imagining how good they must feel in their hands."

"F-F-Fill me," she panted, moving her arms slowly to press her jugs, pressing the arm that choked her, trying to control her orgasm but ultimately failing. "F-Fuck," she muttered, feeling her climax crushing her.

Seungdae caught her, impressed by the sight, but never stopped. He ensured the camera could capture Jimin's eyes rolling back, her feet giving up, and her whole body shivering, trying to release the immense waves of pleasure hitting her from her core, turning them into muted cries. When her spasms became too strong, he renounced his own orgasm and held her tightly, protecting her from hitting her head against the window before walking back to the bed. His dick reaccommodated inside of her as he sat on the mattress at the same time her head fell back on his left shoulder. Smiling at the trail of juices she left on the carpet, he used his left hand to play with her tits while his fingers continued rubbing her clit until the climax died down.

Jimin, still trembling, turned to her right. "Bastard…" She sighed, not bothering to hide the wide grin engraved on her face.

"No more mask, huh?" He smirked while she shook her head and tried to elbow him, trying to reach his lips. He kissed her, enjoying the occasional clenching of her sensitive pussy and teasing her with little pinches on her nipples.

"You haven't come, have you?" She asked softly, realizing how wet her inner thighs were.

"Don't worry about—"

She kissed him again, slapping Seungdae's thigh. "I don't even know when you brought me to bed, but I remember very vividly asking you to fill me," she smirked.

"Don't you want to rest a bit?"

She chuckled, shaking her head. "Lie in the middle of the bed. Don't get out," Jimin requested, tightening her cunt and shuddering as a reaction.

He nodded, leaning a bit to grab her thighs and carry her in an almost fetal position. She giggled, wiggling her legs in the air while he got right where she asked her, even taking the pillows to have a comfortable view.

"Help me spin," Jimin chuckled with a playful smile, keeping her knees close to her chest and stretching her arm for him. Purposefully, she clenched her cunt to enjoy the curvature of his fully erect shaft as it moved inside her oversensitive pussy, loving the sensation until they were face to face again. "Don't hold it back, alright?" Karina smirked, straddling Seungdae and leaning back, supporting her weight with her right arm and caressing her tummy with her left hand. 'Minjeongie would go crazy with this,' she thought, rocking her lower body and pressing her womb.

The way she moved was no longer meant to be visually alluring, but rather pleasurable for herself; still, she could tell he enjoyed the view. She swayed her hips in small circles, using his pubes to stimulate her clit. Her moans were spontaneous and filled with little giggles. As she slowly increased her speed and rhythm, her udders dangled freely. Her face, however, remained perfect, maybe more so than before. Her half-opened eyes, occasionally rolling back every time his cock forced her womb to move. A smile lurked from her parted lips, trembling at times with her tongue picking out quickly, as if trying to catch something.

Even though her movements were clearly meant to please her and her only, the tightness of Karina's walls quickly sent him back to the path of his orgasm. Following her last command, he let go of his restraints, leaning forward to pull her for a fervent kiss she reciprocated, caressing her ass with his right hand and holding her against his chest with his left arm.

"Do it," she purred in his lips, reaching for his face with both hands, hips rocking harder and faster. She felt his breathing growing rougher as he finally started thrusting into her pussy. One quick clench of his cock, followed by another prolonged one. "Give it to me," she demanded in her most sultry voice, biting Seungdae's lip. "Fill my womb. I need it."

He hugged Jimin as tightly as her walls gripped onto his girth. Her sweet giggles, her sultry moans, her overall excitement, and her hungry kiss pushed him over the edge. And just like he fucked her throughout her orgasm, Jimin rode him through his.

"Yes!" She grunted, clenching her cunt at the first deep spurt of cum, hitting her depths, repeating the process to take every drop of semen out of his manhood, loving the warmth that flooded her core. "Thank you," she chuckled, tickling the back of his ears while he held on to her, panting and shaking at every conscious pulsation of her walls. "I don't remember the last time I enjoyed a creampie this much," she admitted.

"You… You didn't cum this time," he huffed.

"Uh-uh," she replied playfully, grinning before giving him a peck on the lips. "You already gave me two good orgasms, and I got to enjoy this heavy load fully conscious," she continued, taking his hand to her womb. "I am very satisfied," Jimin reassured him, clenching her pussy tightly just to hear him groan again.

"I can give you another one if—"

"Shut up!" She giggled, taking her right boob to his mouth. "Suck it while you recover. I still want to give you that treat," she hummed, enjoying his tongue circling her nipple as he held her left breast and she caressed his hair.

"I won't say no to that," Seungdae scoffed quickly, taking her other nipple into his mouth.

"You'd be an idiot if you did," Karina smirked, turning to the window. "Do you think anyone saw us here?" She pondered, referring to the bed.

"The lamp's behind you, and it's too dim to light your face for the people in the other buildings," he grinned, taking advantage of the range of her jugs to lick both nipples at the same time. "If anyone saw anything, I doubt they saw your face."

As he continued sucking her nubs, even after he was fully erect again, he saw her focused on the window. Having his cock still buried inside of her allowed him to feel every clench matching every subtle smile, purse, and bite of her lips. "We can go back there if you want."

Jimin fisted his hair, inhaling deeply and facing him, shaking her head. "You better have another load ready for m-me," she warned him while he sucked both her nipples with all his strength before releasing them.

"Whenever you want." He took her for a kiss, and she bit him before tightening her core to stand up. Seungdae leaned to see her cortch, happy to see that not a single drop of his cum leaked from her pussy.

"I'm keeping it as a souvenir," she joked, wiggling her butt proudly on the bed and jumping to the floor, laughing at the clap of her milkers on her stomach.

"Just tell me where you want it," he smirked, stepping out of bed and admiring her body as she walked backwards to the window, slowly turning to her right to face her phone, still recording.

"Here!"

"Ass and part of your tits for the audience," he pursed his lips, nodding. "Impressive."

"If I can't see them, they can't see my face," she smiled, turning a little more just to be sure. "Take it. I want to watch this as well," she pointed to her phone a bit shyly, kneeling.

"Is there a chance you can send me this?" He asked, framing her face on camera while he approached her.

"It depends on how well you aim at the end," she winked playfully, using the remnants of semen in his dick to stroke it with her small hands. "Let me have my fun first, then you'll have your treat," she grinned, licking his frenulum.

He agreed without a second thought, and indeed, it was her time to have fun, not his.

Karina took her time, playing with her grip on the base of Seungdae's manhood, pressing it right on his veins, making them pop as his whole rod grew thicker, acquiring a purple hue. She scoffed, impressed by its size and weight, measuring its length with her fists, proud to have had that monster inside her cunt. Then, she playfully slapped her face with it, getting down to his balls. "They're ready to shoot again," she cupped his scrotum, raising her eyebrows.

"I'm used to demanding women," he winked at her, charmed by the playfulness of her face.

"I'll keep it in mind for next time," she smiled brightly, sucking one testicle into her mouth, then the other, giggling at the way his eyes sparkled at the idea. "Now that's the way men usually react when they have a chance to fuck me."

"I'm way more relaxed now than before," he argued. "Same for you?"

She scoffed, twisting her jaw. "Riding you until you filled my pussy was not proof enough?"

"Oh, it was! I just wanted to hear it from you," he nodded, enjoying the little licks and kisses throughout his genitals. "Consider it my customer service survey or whatever you want to call it."

"No wonder Ryujin's grown fond of you," Jimin laughed. "Listen carefully," she grinned, holding his hilt firmly. Before he could even nod, she had already taken him into her mouth, all the way to the back of her throat, stroking him and sealing his shaft with her lips, hollowing her cheeks.

Seungdae got lost in Karina's big eyes, appearing even more prominent from his angle, and even more so with the way she blew him. Her technique was different than both his lovers, equally pleasurable. The way she sucked him, the way her hands moved, and the way her tongue swirled; not only did it look impressively dirty and erotic, but it felt incredible.

The sloppiness came next. Her spit flowed freely after she released his tip with a loud pop, quickly using her hands to spread her saliva through his length, only to impale her face with it the next second.

"God!" He grunted, feeling his glans pass into her tight pipe with a loud gag that spread through the room.

She took his hands and kept them firmly over his thighs. The show was on.

Karina blew him slowly, gurgling while she ensured he'd feel the way she took half an inch more of him every few bobs, letting a trail of drool fall to her dangling udders and almost ignoring her own body until a violent retching hit her.

"It feels great, but you don't—"

"I've taken your size in every hole before," she reassured him, slurping the thick thread of spit hanging from her lips and his tip. "I'm just out of practice," she smirked, slapping his slick manhood across her face before swallowing him again. She took a full inch more of him than before, bobbing her head and gargling quicker, touching her own neck to feel how deep into her neck he reached.

Her frustration was apparent, quickly decreasing her speed, but forcing herself to reach his pubes with her lips. Jimin shook her head and pushed herself back, which released a cascade of drool down her tits. "Jihyo unnie was right," she mumbled, quickly recovering her position and skimming out of the window. "I'll tell you when to stop."

She took his left hand to her neck, palm resting on her throat; then she took her phone from his right hand so he could grip her hair bun. 'Cute,' she thought, recording herself, watching his worried face, nodding at him before engulfing his dick in one quick movement.

Seungdae trembled, throwing his head back for a moment until Karina sank her nails into his thighs to fuck her face. 'So be it,' he thought, quickly taking control and thrusting into her face. The tightness, the gurgling, the way her neck expanded to his girth and length on his hand, and her majestic, determined eyes; a dream come true.

However, like some of the best dreams, it came to an abrupt end. Jimin tapped quickly and repeatedly on his thigh. He hesitated, but he pulled her away from his throbbing cock.

Tears ran down her cheeks, joining the drool that fell down her breasts, all the way down to her pussy.

They locked eyes. Two seconds of silence. Both laughed loudly.

"Sit on the bed," she said with a wide smile, standing up as if she were on stage: confidently, owning the place. "Close the curtains. You deserve to have this moment only for you," she added, handing him the phone, still recording.

He remained frozen for a second, scanning every part of her body: her black toenails, her long legs, her trimmed bush, her cute navel, her heavy boobs, covered in a thick layer of spit, and her wide smile, which brought him back to reality. "Yes," he said hurrily, taking the phone and reaching for the remote to close the curtains right away and adjust the lamps in the room to half their power. "No need to hide between us," he smiled, taking his place at the edge of the mattress.

Karina chuckled, biting her lips and kneeling between his legs. "Let me finish. For both of us," she whispered, taking her boobs up to his dick, enveloping it in her slippery flesh. She gawked at his glans, moving her breasts up and down on his length. Thirsting over it, she glanced at his eyes; he nodded, and she gladly took him into her mouth.

Eagerly, she used her whole torso, pressing and moving her tits up and down to pleasure him. She watched him grunt and melt on the bed as she licked his tip, feeding her own pride and boosting her performance even more. Her cheeks hollowed again, and Jimin made sure to enjoy every drop of salty precum directly from his slit.

Seungdae could not focus. Her breathing grew more profound and louder; her eyes stared directly into him, almost in the same way he looked at his partners to know how to please them next; her soft breasts framing his shaft were simply hypnotic; her fingers, maybe unconsciously, pinched and twisted her own nipples at the same rhythm she sucked him. The pleasure increased by the second, and the vacuum in her mouth was glory brought to earth.

Jimin's voice echoed in his mind. 'Don't hold it back, alright?' 'Give it to me.'

He locked eyes with her just as she was about to release his cock from her mouth. She smiled with her eyes and swallowed him, bobbing her head quicker and pressing her breasts tighter together.

Laughing quietly, he nodded at her and, save for the arm filming her, he relaxed completely. Her tits wrapped him up so kindly that he could cum just with that. Still, her tongue swirled mercilessly through every crease of his tip, applying just the right amount of pressure and friction through him. It was clear she could make him explode as soon as she could, but her goal was to make him cum as hard as humanly possible. With no self-restraint, he succumbed to the pleasure with a satisfied smile fixed on his face until he moaned. "Rina…"

"Uh-uh," she hummed back at him, edging him, grinning at his trembling hips.

"Jimin!"

In one swift movement, she let go of her udders and pushed herself to swallow his whole manhood to finish him. She reached for his free hand, guiding it to his dick while she pulled back, quickly holding her milkers so her nipples were as close to her gasping mouth as possible.

Instinctively, he stroked himself to nut on her face, shooting rope after thick rope of semen, coating her face from her lower eyelid to her chin and down to her clear nipples.

She remained still as he finished, giving him the chance to record a few angles of her while she savoured the spurts that landed on her tongue before staring at his eyes and swallowing his seed with a loud gulp. "Thank you for the facial," she purred, blowing a kiss before sucking his cum from her breasts.

"It suits you," Seungdae panted.

"Oh, I know," she replied, making a show of sucking her own tits, giving herself a playful bite on her nipple. "You should see me after a bukkake," Karina winked at him.

"Can I?" He asked, half serious. "You know? Following the idea of people seeing you like this…" He caught her full attention while he recovered. "I bet there's a part of you who'd love to walk outside just like this," he leaned forward, pointing at her naked body, but focusing on her painted face.

"That would be thrilling." Jimin raised her eyebrows, biting her lips flirtily.

"It would be very risky."

"A lot!" She confirmed, standing up.

"Shame you won't do it even though you want it," Seungdae sighed with a smirk.

"Is that a challenge?"

"Nah," he replied with a chuckle. "Unless you want to take it."

She inhaled deeply, then walked towards her clothes. "What do I win?" She asked dead serious.

"You've got everything, Yu Jimin. All I can offer you is my services."

"I don't do servers, Hwang Seungdae," she replied, catching a drop of cum dripping down her chin. He didn't reply; instead, he smirked and shrugged, observing the room and the bed he was on. "Next one's for free, whenever I call it," she sighed, pointing at him.

He nodded.

"Get dressed."

They did so quickly, but Karina put on only her jeans and blouse. No underwear. She asked him to record her again, quickly taking something into her pocket before slowly stepping into the hallways of the hotel. Her tension was palpable, but she kept walking, skimming back to see him until they reached the elevator.

"I can't believe it," she murmured to herself before facing the camera and showing her fresh facial rather proudly. She signaled him to stay there and walked to the opposite wall, quickly lowering her blouse to let her knockers hang freely for a couple of seconds before covering herself again.

"You're crazy," he whispered, shocked by her display.

"Let's take the stairs," Jimin replied, blushing through the pearled mask, guiding the way up.

She scanned the stairs. Everything was empty. Nervously, she lowered her blouse again, but this time, she walked playfully, half laughing at how silly she felt, half laughing at the way he had to re-focus the phone because he could only stare at her dangling breasts. One floor up, then two.

She inspected her surroundings again and unbuttoned her pants, lowering them enough for her bush to show on frame. "How do I look?" She smiled shyly, taking his hand to her heart, pounding so hard he felt it clearly.

"Like Dispatch's next big news," he scoffed, shaking his head, then quickly turning to cover her when they heard a door opening on the closest floor above them. Before he could do anything else, Karina was already walking downstairs, arms covering her already-clad rack, pants neatly buttoned, and her face covered with beige pieces of cloth serving as a facial mask.

He followed her quietly until they got back to her room, bursting into laughter as soon as the door locked.

"I didn't think you'd go that far!" Seungdae exclaimed, following her to the bathroom. "Where did those come from?" He chuckled, pointing to her face.

"I needed something to pretend I didn't have your cum all over my face!" Jimin chuckled, observing herself in the mirror, then smiling back at him. "Believable, right?" She asked nervously, needing the reassurance, and he happily provided it before she laughed loudly again.

"What now?" He shook his head, watching her turn around to show him the growing stain of semen in her crotch.

"You are taking me home now," she declared.

With no way to object, he followed along, watching her open the backpack on the floor, then put on an expensive wig and a cheap sweater that made her look like a grandma, partially aided by the facial mask. "Oldest and most effective trick of the book!" She joked, practicing the way she walked.

The late hour gave them a clear road back to her apartment while they praised each other for their performance and laughed again at their reaction on the stairs. Two blocks before arriving, she spoke honestly.

"Thank you for tonight. I really liked feeling a little… Adventurous. Although I'm not sure if I'd try that again," she said softly.

"The stairs or the window part?" He smirked at her, catching a glimpse of Karina's grin before turning his eyes back to the road.

"The stairs. The window is just a little safer," she giggled quietly before turning serious. "Sorry for ruining your night with your girlfriend, by the way."

"Ryujin is the one responsible for that. You… I'll wait for your call."

"Don't lose any sleep on that," she chuckled. "We're packed with concerts, comeback, more concerts…" Jimin sighed, defeated, but keeping a smile on her face. "Trust me, I'll call you again, and you'd better leave me as relaxed as I am now!" She bit her lips, hitting him on the shoulder.

"I'll do my best, don't worry about it," he winked at her. "Are you really going to walk out of the car with my cum still on your face?"

"What? They say it's good for the skin!"

Watching her go, he relaxed for a bit, taking the chance to message Ryujin.

SD: I gotta say, even though you made me get out of Tzuyu's bed, it was worth it. But next time, please let me know beforehand. RJ: Fuck. Sorry, I was really hoping you were alone tonight. SD: When am I ever alone at night nowadays? SD: Wait, wtf are you doing awake at 2 am? RJ: Too much to think, don't worry. SD: You sure? I could go to your place for a few minutes. It's on my way back to Tzuyu's. RJ: I'll be fine. Don't keep Tzuyu unnie waiting. Drive safe! SD: Ok. But remember, I'm always up to talking with you! RJ: And I'll take that offer! But I want to be alone tonight. SD: Take care, alright? RJ: You too.

With that done, he arrived back at Tzuyu's apartment building, thankful and still amazed that she had already given him his own set of keys. Just like Jieun, she reasoned that he could get into her place if she needed something or simply to arrive earlier to avoid drawing attention from any stalker, sasaeng, or paparazzi.

Her pets, Kaya and Butter, welcomed him quietly, waving their tails at him, but not making a sound, as if protecting Tzuyu's sleep. Carefully, Seungdae walked into her room, quietly changing to get into bed with her, trying his best to lie down at her side.

One last glance at his phone. Just three hours before his alarm rang. Feeling her presence at his right, he fell asleep in an instant.

Seungdae grunted when he woke up, confused and feeling a familiar slippery warmth on his glans. It took him a good moment to look down, finding a pair of feet going back and forth in the air, then a gorgeous pair of eyes smiling at him.

"Good morning," Tzuyu giggled playfully, quickly taking his dick back into her mouth, forcing a moan out of him.

"Morning," he replied, running his hands on his face. He could barely speak, but she saw his question right through.

She kissed his tip and used her own spit to stroke him. "You didn't move when my alarm rang, and you somehow turned yours off without opening your eyes," Tzuyu chuckled, rubbing his shaft across her face. She saw him trying his best to understand. "What would Jieun unnie think if you log in late to work under my watch?" She grinned, taking him back into her mouth.

"That… That makes sense… Damn!" He let out, mind clouded by his sleep and how good she made him feel.

"I was expecting it to taste like pussy," she smiled, cupping his glans with her hand, rubbing it in circles.

"We finished with a titjob," he scoffed, already lost in her face.

"From Ryujin?" Tzuyu asked, confused.

"Nah!" He giggled, enchanted by her cute reaction. "She wouldn't, even if he could. Karina," he explained.

"Huh?" Despite her surprise, she continued with the handjob.

He sighed, knowing he had no filters with Tzuyu. "Ryujin knows about Jin," he admitted, feeling her fingers tighten around his cock. "She mentioned Karina somewhere before or after that… It's all fuzzy in my head," he shook his head, trying to get some clarity on the events.

She scoffed. "It took me months to know that, and you told her in one night?" She pretended to be offended, but her tone let her playfulness poke through while she stroked his dick.

"I'd say a bottle of wine and some blackmailing… I'm trying to remember how it happened."

"Why don't you write it?" She suggested, quickly smiling at his confused expression. "You know how I write stuff when I don't really know how to say it?" Her dimple formed in her cheek as her eyes lit up. "Writing can also help your memory," she nodded, taking him back into her mouth.

"I could try that, I just don't know where to beg—"

Following Jieun's teachings, Tzuyu took all words out of him by engulfing his whole manhood, gagging only when his cock made it past her throat. She kept her lips at his base, causing him to hold the back of her head as a reflex.

"Holy fuck… Good learner," he grunted, staring into her smiley eyes while she proudly wiggled her meaty ass.

Next Chronicle 🦥 (TBD) →

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And that damned smile that gets you all the time.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Are you complaining?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Kkura, fuck–”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Multiple times, hun!”

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

“But you already ‘inspected’ me last night!” Yeojin whines, kicking her legs up cutely.

“I said daily, didn’t I? You can’t expect me to not inspect you when you’re dressed like that.” Yeojin’s is wearing minimal livery, the porcelain smoothness of her skin revealed to maintain minimal weight.

“Now, car off.” You place a hand over her mouth, and Yeojin is docile, arms spread wide across the hood of the car.

You examine your tiny ride, and spot a little “dent” on her thigh.

“What’s this?” You run a finger over it, and Yeojin gasps.

“O-Ow, I don’t know, I think you grabbed me too hard last night.”

“Did I? I guess that’s understandable, a ride with so much mileage is bound to get a few dings and scratches.”

“Are you calling me old?!”

“No, I’m calling you poundable.”

“That’s more like it.” A firm press on her back is enough to get Yeojin to shut up again, and you start stripping her bare, pulling on the zipper of her tiny shorts first.

You leave her panties on for now, examining the little groove between her legs—from experience you know that she’s grippy, and that little groove is why.

Yeojin whines when you leave her half clothed, but you’ll get to enjoy her bare frame shortly.

"Come on, time to inspect the airbags.”

As soon as you pull the tube top off her she’s teasing you, arms pressed together to make sure her airbags are as big and bouncy and “shock-absorbing” as possible.

“Well, what do you think?”

“I think it’ll need a more thorough inspection.” Yeojin coos as you squeeze one tit, then the other, their softness a contrast to how hard you are getting.

“Maybe you’ll need to crash into them to really feel their effects.”

“Oh there’ll be plenty of testing, turn back around.” Yeojin shivers a little as she bends back over the car, and you place her top under her chest to make it a little more bearable.

You pull down her panties, revealing that her “tire” is not only well grooved and grippy, but also a slick one, used to strong forces and high speed racing.

You slip a finger in to check her pressure, and yes, it’s high.

“Hnngh oppa…” As your finger slides out, it’s coated in fluids, some of it dripping to the floor.

“Hmm, my little ride is leaking, I should check that.” You use one, then two dipsticks to check your ride, and confirm that it is leaking, quite profusely at that.

“That’s not good, I’m going to need something to seal up the leak.”

“Or a plug perhaps? A thick and long one might do the trick!” Yeojin chirps up.

“Maybe, I only have one around though, I wonder if it’ll be a tight fit.”

“Only one way to find out.” Not so subtly Yeojin has reached around, pulling on her own cheeks and spreading her hole a little bigger.

A clink of your belt, a drop of your pants, and you’re rubbing your tip against Yeojin’s leaking cylinder.

“I’m not sure it’ll fit—”

“Stop teasing and just fuck me already!” You plunge your crankshaft deep into Yeojin in one stroke. “Oh hnngh…” The purr of her engine only spurs you on, and it’s time to take a test drive on your ride.

The car rocks ungently, and Yeojin might be picking up another bruise or two on the next inspection (you’ll be sure to note them down on her checklist) with how hard you’re gripping her hips—you’re making sure she doesn’t smash into the car and actually hurt herself, but also ensuring that she’s being pistoned into at maximum force each thrust, making her see sparks behind her freerolling eyes.

“So fucking tight!” you growl, testing Yeojin’s suspension, making her ass jiggle as she bounces off your hips each time. “Come on, up you go.” She whimpers as her feet leave the ground—with the car hood as support you wrap an arm under and around Yeojin’s tiny waist and lift her hips, giving you a more direct angle to fuck straight at her womb.

“Oppa no, oh fuck! Hnngh I’m—” Anyone looking from behind could easily tell what’s going on as Yeojin’s legs suddenly go taut, toes pointed straight down as there’s a sudden stream of fluids leaking from between her legs. Said legs then relax, beginning to dangle and splay as you continue to pound her.

Yeojin’s boneless against the hood, rocking in rhythm with the car as the test drive continues. She barely registers the gear change, her leg being raised to the side and rested against the hood, opening her up for a deeper inspection. She definitely feels it soon after, the seal to her womb being tested by your constant knocking.

“Fuck Yeojin!” Finding your ride to be satisfactory, you groan and seal Yeojin up tight with cum, flooding her core. Yeojin combusts with you, redlining and ensuring the compression ratio stays as high as possible for maximum pleasure.

You pull out, and it is time for your second favorite test to run on Yeojin, the emissions test. You rub Yeojin’s eject button and plug her exhaust pipe, keeping her feet off the ground and making sure she can’t squirm away. There’s no more rev and pep in Yeojin, and at a certain point she simply pops.

“Ahh oppa!” A jet of squirt and cum spray out of her, and Yeojin’s a moaning mess as she gushes and releases all the slick you’ve teased out of her alongside all the cum you’ve pumped into her. Streams of fluids leak down her legs uncontrollably, dripping off her toes as she continues to dangle on the hood of the car.

You make a mental note in your head:

Inspection complete, schedule another one for tomorrow.

As if it wasn’t obvious enough, both girls are on their knees between your legs as you sit on the couch, passing your cock between them like it holds their entire future.

“The members’ and IVE’s fate are literally in my hands,” Yujin says seriously, pushing Wonyoung’s mouth off your cock. She gives you several full-length, firm strokes from base to tip before leaning in and exhaling hot breath over your wet length, her tongue darting out to taste the fresh arousal that’s leaking from your slit.

“But I really want my opinion to be honoured this time,” Wonyoung counters, pressing her face lower and burying her nose between your heavy balls. She snuggles her nostrils between the heavy sacs, taking in deep, shameless whiffs of your sweaty scent, before sucking one into her warm mouth.

“Haven’t you had enough about yourself already?” Yujin scoffs, latching her lips around the head, forming a tight seal. She inches down your length with a torturous slowness, cheeks hollowing as she applies an agonising suction of impeccable pressure. Her eyes flutter with pleasure as she takes you deeper.

“Fuck… both of you are crazy,” you groan, mesmerised by the sight of being assaulted by two of the best mouths you could never fathom of experiencing. But yet you’re here, watching the Ahn Yujin and the Jang Wonyoung competing so shamelessly — Yujin spreading her copious oral sheen across your length while she takes you deep; Wonyoung guzzling her ropy slime around your balls as she juggles them inside her slutty mouth.

“What about you?” Wonyoung purrs, releasing your balls with a wet pop. “You act like you’re saving the group, but it’s all just an excuse for your own self-interest—” She flicks her tongue across your balls mid-sentence, tracing the circumference of each one in her favourite infinity sign with her tongue, each cycle drawing you into an endless abyss of pleasure.

“You like it when I play with your balls like this daddy?”

“Stop trying to influence him, you slut,” Yujin sneers, resuming her fluid worship of your cock, dragging her tongue across your tip in the elegant curve of a golden ratio. “You like my tongue more right, daddy?” Yujin purrs. Every approximate 1.61 centimetres her tongue travels send a perfect ratio of desire and pleasure coursing through you.

Wonyoung doesn’t back down from Yujin’s taunts. She pushes Yujin aside and dives onto your cock, taking you straight into her tight throat in one smooth motion.

“Fuck princess, your throat is tight like always,” you groan, hips bucking at the sudden heat and constriction. “Only you can take me all the way in.” You thread your fingers into her silky hair, compressing her face flush onto you. She holds herself there, nose pressed against your pelvis, throat rippling beautifully around you as she looks up with determined eyes.

Yujin huffs in annoyances and lowers her head to suck on your balls instead, pulling them into her mouth one by one while Wonyoung continues deepthroating you with wet, gagging sounds. She eventually works her way up your cock, planting her lips on the side of your thick meat, sliding in tandem with Wonyoung as she continues to devour you whole repeatedly.

They fight over you like this for several long, delicious long minutes, lips clashing messily around your shaft, soft moans and complaints mixing together. Yujin eventually yanks Wonyoung off your cock by the hair and immediately swallows you entirely — or at least she tries to — bobbing her head with an aggressive hunger.

“Choose me daddy. I deserve it more.” Yujin pulls off to gasp, flicking her tongue desperately along the underside of your head.

“Yeah right,” Wonyoung growls, glaring at Yujin. “Your pathetic throat can’t even take daddy’s big, fat cock. What makes you think you deserve it?” She grabs onto Yujin’s hair and slams her down onto your length in one hard push.

An explosion of saliva and snot bursts out as Yujin’s eyes water violently, her cheeks turning red from the forceful intrusion. Wonyoung doesn’t relent.

“Look at you, crying so pathetically just because you can’t swallow daddy whole.” Wonyoung pulls Yujin off your cock, allowing her a brief, merciful breath before slamming her back down.

“Don’t. You. Think. You. Need. Some. Assistance?”

Wonyoung uses Yujin’s throat like a personal fleshlight, fucking her head onto your cock with every word, each one breaching her supposed self-induced limits of how far she can take you in.

You’ve never seen Wonyoung this brutal before. Sure, they have always been at odds with each other, but it was always playful and reserved when you three fuck like rabbits. The way Wonyoung is violating Yujin’s throat with your cock right now is nothing like that bratting that she always does.

And Yujin. She’s usually the dominant one taking control, being one up over any arguments with Wonyoung. But today, today she’s just letting it happen, letting Wonyoung scrub and ruin the insides of her throat with your cock, fucking her face onto you like she’s almost craving for it.

“See daddy?” Wonyoung forces Yujin down your length as far as she can go, holding her there while letting the musical notes of depravity fill the entire room. She places her fingers at the gap between Yujin’s stretched lips and your pelvis, measuring the length of her incompetency for you to see. “This is a whole fucking inch that Yujinnie still can’t swallow. How could you ever choose such a failure instead of your precious cock-sucking whore?”

The overwhelming pleasure, their constant bickering, the wet obscene sounds, and the way they keep trying to one-up each other — it’s all driving you insane.

“It’s really hard… I can’t decide like this,” you groan out. “Fuck, why are you even making me decide this? I’m not even part of IVE.”

“Just shut up and decide, daddy.” Wonyoung says, finally loosening her grip on Yujin’s head.

Yujin slides off your cock, her face utterly ruined: snot dripping from her nose, saliva stringing from her chin, mascara mixed with the unending stream of running down her cheeks. Yet her expression is one of euphoric contentment.

“Yeah…” Yujin rasps. “You act like you’re not enjoying my throat around your fat cock.”

“And don’t act like it has nothing to do with you,” Wonyoung frowns. “You’re our daddy. Our happiness doesn’t matter to you? Should we just break up with you then?”

Wonyoung slaps your cock against Yujin’s swollen lips, the sharp smacks cutting off any reply.

“Look at our poor daddy, shaking in pleasure,” Yujin smirks, gathering the saliva hanging from her chin and feeding it back into her mouth. “Can you even last until you actually decide to decide?” She turns to Wonyoung, tilting her chin up with her saliva glossed finger, and the two of them crash into a deep, torrid kiss right in front of you.

Wet smacks fill the air as the two girls consume each other’s lips, still trying to one-up one another even now. Your swollen cock twitches from the lustful sight, its head bobbing slight from anticipation of what’s to come. When they finally separate, their foreheads are pressed together, exhaling their heat of twisted love onto each other. Yujin stares at Wonyoung, then back at you with a dark glint in her eyes.

“Since you can’t choose… then we’ll remove your bias.”

“Prepare yourself, daddy~”

Before you can respond, both girls move at once. They climb onto the couch beside you, sliding off their panties. Working together efficiently like they’ve rehearsed umpteenth times, Yujin ties her black lace panties over your eyes first, then Wonyoung layers her soft pink ones on top, doubling the translucent fabric until the world turns completely black.

You’re completely blind now, every other sense heightened. A moist, warm scent surrounds you, an intoxicating mix of their arousal, desperation, and skin blending to form the ultimate indulgent perfume of lust.

You feel movement. Someone settles between your legs, pushing your thighs apart. Her strong, smooth thighs clamp firmly around your throbbing cock, pressing it tightly between them. She leans back against your chest, resting her head on your shoulder. The heat of her skin is overwhelming, and you can feel the slickness of her pussy hovering just above your shaft as she starts rolling her hips.

“Yujin—”

“Shush.”

There’s no doubt it’s Ahn Yujin on top of you right now, and she’s quickly becoming the bane of your existence.

“Decide based on feeling, daddy,” Yujin whispers hotly into your ear, suckling your earlobe into her sticky mouth. She beings fucking you with her thighs, bouncing atop you with deliberate, powerful drops that slide her soft, meaty flesh up and down your entire length.

The sensation is incredible. Her thighs squeeze perfectly around you while her dripping pussy glides teasingly above your cock, coating the top of your shaft with her wetness on every pass.

Your hands don’t stay idle, snaking up her body to squeeze and knead her small, perky tits. Each grope of her soft flesh makes her moan and curse, each flick of your thumb on her stiff nipples makes her shudder and tremble.

“Daddy’s hands… they feel so good,” Yujin cries out, gripping the backrest on either side of your head as she pumps her powerful thighs up and down your cock. “Can’t you feel my desperation, daddy? The fates of all five of us lies in your hands.”

At the same time, you feel Wonyoung settle between your spread legs. Her tongue immediately flicks against your exposed cockhead, licking and teasing the sensitive slit every time Yujin’s thighs slides upwards.

“Fuck—!” you groan, hips bucking forward at the unexpected sensation.

“What a greedy bitch,” Yujin laughs breathlessly as she picks up the pace, switching between impactful, hard slams and slow, lazy rolls of her hips, her thick thighs jerking you with wet, slippery friction. “Look daddy, it’s my turn, and your princess still can’t keep her mouth to herself.”

Wonyoung ignores the taunt. You feel her swirl her tongue around your leaking tip, flicking rapidly at the slit whenever Yujin pushes your cock forward through her thighs. The dual stimulation of Yujin’s thighs combined with Wonyoung’s relentless tongue is messing up the lucidity of your mind.

“Yujinnie…” you groan, hands sliding downwards to grip her waist. “Fuck, you’re dripping sweat all over me… and you taste so fucking good.” You begin to lift and drop her body on your cock, assisting her as she services you with her thighs. Your lean forward and drag your tongue up the spine of her back, gathering the salty drops of her sweat like it’s the cure to your insanity. You continue your adventure across her back, meandering your tongue across her shoulder blades, swiping her clean of sweat, only to be replenished instantly as she works her thighs vigorously up and down your shaft.

Wonyoung responds by sucking hard on your cockhead, her tongue stabbing and digging into your slit as if trying to steal your cum before you can give it to Yujin.

“Fuck, I'm close,” you grunt, the pressure building rapidly. The blindfold makes everything more intense, the feeling of Yujin squeezing her thighs tighter and moving faster, her slick pussy getting wetter, soaking your cock with every roll.

“Look at you, leaking like a bitch,” Wonyoung taunts Yujin, parting her lips slightly to welcome Yujin’s juices that's being fed into her mouth with every slide. “All for me~” Wonyoung continues to lap both of your juices, drinking in both your arousals like its her favourite drink.

“I’m gonna cum, daddy.” Yujin moans, grinding even harder, thighs trembling with effort as she works for your orgasm. “Cum with me… Paint me like how you promised Wonyoung earlier.”

You bounce her harder and faster, pumping her constricting thigh pussy on your cock as pleasure surges through you.

“Fuc—” Yujin yelps and shatters, convulsing wildly around your cock as she cums hard. Hot juices spurts out of her pussy as Yujin shakes and screams, sending almost unending waves of her wet release onto your cock and Wonyoung’s face.

You continue working her up and down your cock, and you’re dangerously close.

“Yujin—”

“Annnnnd stop!” Wonyoung announces cheerfully as a shrill alarm pierces through the air. She surges forward to press Yujin in place, preventing any more movement. “Ten minutes are up. You lost this round~”

“Princess…” you grunt, disappoint from the loss of pleasure. You cock twitches painfully after being robbed of its release, its head probably purple and swollen from the twin assault from both Yujin’s deadly thighs and Wonyoung’s devilish tongue.

“Fuck, please…” you complain, trying to thrust into Yujin’s thighs, but Wonyoung’s grip is absolute and unrelenting. “Can't we just stop this argument and let me cum? I, much less my cock, shouldn't be used as a decision making tool.”

“Nuh uh,” Wonyoung retorts. “Daddy said it earlier — you can't make a decision either. So your cock will make allll the decisions.”

“Damn it,” you grumble under your breath. “Am I even going to cum tonight…”

“Hmmph, daddy is being a dummy!” Wonyoung pouts, finally releasing Yujin. “The decision will be made by who you cum for. Did you really want to choose unnie just now and let your princess suffer?”

“No, of course not!”

“Hey, why are you trying to guilt trip daddy, you cheater?”

“Shut up, unnie~” Wonyoung sticks her tongue out. “You lost this round despite me offering assistance, so it's my turn to play with daddy.”

Yujin sighs and climbs off your lap, leaving your body suddenly cold without her warmth.

Right as you're about to speak, you feel a pair of hands settling on your shoulders.

“There we go, daddy.” Wonyoung purrs sweetly into your ears, gently guiding you to lie down on the couch. “I’ll be gentle with you~”

You feel Wonyoung climbing over you, her weight pressing you into the soft cushions of the couch. She straddles your torso, rocking her hips up and down your belly, her two hands pressed onto your chest. You can feel the wetness of her each time she snaps her hips forward and backwards, her pussy smearing her warm slick up along your toned stomach.

“Fuck, daddy… rubbing myself on your belly feels soooo good,” Wonyoung moans, pressing down harder. “Look, all my juices are pooling inside your navel every time I slide over it. You look so sexy like this.”

“Time’s ticking, princess,” Yujin calls out, her voice carrying an undertone of arousal. “Do you need some assistance?”

“Shut up and fuck your own fingers, unnie,” Wonyoung coos smugly. “I’ll make daddy cum all by myself. No help needed.”

“Fine.” Yujin huffs, letting out a soft, annoyed hum of pleasure from somewhere beside you. “Don’t come crying like the brat you always are if you lose.”

A moment later, the wet, rhythmic sounds of her fingers pumping in and out of her pussy fill the air, accompanied by soft, breathy moans. From the sound of it, Yujin’s clearly touching herself, and you would kill to rip the damned blindfold off and see her eyes roll.

“Good girl~" Wonyoung giggles. She leans down and presses her chest flat on yours, her hard nipples poking into your skin. Lips breathing hot above yours, she whispers, “Now that the troublemaker is out of the way, your princess will make you cum sooooo well~”

“Fuck you—nghhh—” Yujin moans, fingering herself faster.

Wonyoung slides her body down and shifts lower, the incredible softness of her famous ass pressing down onto your throbbing cock. She settles her weight perfectly, smothering your length between her warm, plush cheeks.

“Time to convince you properly, daddy,” she whispers and starts moving. She grinds her ass along your cock in long, sensual strokes, sliding back and forth so her soft, heavy cheeks glide over every inch of your shaft. Her slick pussy lips drag teasingly along the top with every roll, leaving a trail of wetness.

“Is this how it’s gonna go?” you grunt, digging your fingers into her perfect ass. “You two are going to be the death of me.”

“It’s a bit late to be saying that now, daddy~” Wonyoung coos, picking up the pace, smothering your cock with her warm, pillowy cheeks. Each glide makes you leak endlessly, lubing up her ass crack even more.

The sensation is mind-numbing. Her ass feels even better than you remembered, and you groan helplessly, hips twitching upwards to chase the heavenly friction. But Wonyoung presses her body down firmer on you, controlling the rhythm, rocking with erratic urgency.

“No moving too much, daddy. Just feel,” she mewls. “Feel how my ass is swallowing your cock… feel how wet I am for you…”

"Yeah daddy,” Yujin gasps from the side, breathing growing heavier. You can hear her work her pussy, fingers pumping noisily, the wet, sinful sounds sloshing out from her cunt. “You should be fair and let us perform for you.”

“But fuck… your ass, it feels so damn good. And the way you’re riding me, it makes me wanna grab you and stuff you full.”

Wonyoung hums at your praise, leaning forward, long hair brushing your chest as she grinds even harder. Her ass cheeks squeeze and ripple around your shaft with every roll, angling herself with precision such that her slick folds tease the head with every pass.

“Look at daddy, unnie… he’s leaking so much from my ass,” she breathes smugly. “He’s gonna cum for me. He’s gonna choose me.”

Your hands squeeze into her soft flesh harder than before, kneading them like soft dough as you start rocking her hips onto you. Between Wonyoung’s perfect ass and the constant wet sounds of Yujin masturbating beside you, your cock is aching, twitching, and leaking non-stop.

“Princess, at this rate, you’re gonna make me cum all over your ass.”

“That’s the plan, daddy,” Wonyoung moans prettily as she feels you throb harder. She starts flicking her fingers up and down your nipples, tickling them lightly as she continues riding you. Each flick sends a spark down your spine, enhancing the sensitivity of your cock, making you moan and twitch harder.

But just as you feel your orgasm rapidly approaching—

“Time’s up!” Yujin shouts. “Get off daddy’s cock!”

Wonyoung groans in defeat and lifts her ass completely off your cock.

Your hips chase and buck into the air helplessly, but she’s already moved away, leaving your throbbing, denied cock twitching angrily in the cool air. You let out a frustrated groan, panting heavily from the stupid situation you’re forced in.

“No more,” you growl as something finally snaps inside you.

You rip the panties off your eyes. The sudden brightness blinds you for a second, but it doesn’t matter. You can see them both clearly — flushed from arousal, breathing hard, bodies glossed with sweat, and both clearly surprised by your sudden movement.

“No more rounds. No more fucking games.” You stand up and grab Wonyoung first, flipping her onto her back on the couch. “You want me to make the decision? I’ll fuck my decision into the both of you.”

You lift her legs and press them up towards her head, watching Wonyoung’s wide, shocked eyes as you fold her like a piece of origami. You grab your cock and slap it on her swollen pussy, running the head all over her wet folds.

“Fucking brat. Teasing your daddy so much,” you press her legs down harder, spreading her wide open. You rub your cock horizontally, playing with her puffy folds, watching her juices flow copiously.

“How does it feel to be the teased one now, huh? Don’t you wish daddy would stuff you full of his big, fat cock?”

“D-Daddy please! Weren’t you enjoying princess’s ass earlier? Please don’t tea—”

You slam into her tight, dripping pussy in one brutal thrust, cutting her off.

“Fuck—daddy!” Wonyoung gasps, crying out sharply, back arching as you bury yourself inside her. Her hands instinctively reach to her ass cheeks, peeling them apart, spreading her pussy even wider for you. “P-please, choose me. Take me. Pound my bratty pussy—”

You don’t hold back at all. You lift your hips and slam back down, fucking her hard and deep, snapping your frustration into her with all your might. “You both want me to choose so badly?” You thrust harder, watching her small tits bounce wildly with every impact. “Then take it. Take the consequences.”

Yujin’s fingers are still inside her, jamming in and out at breakneck speed, turned on by how roughly you’re handling Wonyoung. She tries to say something, but you reach over and grab her by the hair, pulling her into a rough kiss while continuing to pound the folded mess beneath you. Your free hand finds Yujin’s soaked pussy and yanks hers out, stuffing your own two digits inside her.

“Daddy—” Yujin moans, gripping your hand tightly as you curl and twist her insides, exploring every inch of her warm heat.

Wonyoung takes advantage of your distraction and wraps her legs around your waist, nails digging into your back as she moans. “Please choose me—I want to be chosen—I need daddy to pick me—”

“Show me you deserve to be chosen.” You angle your hips and hammer her g-spot repeatedly. “Cum on my cock like a good princess.”

Wonyoung’s eyes roll back as you destroy her, her mouth babbling nothing but incomprehensible reasons why she should be chosen. A few more brutal pumps and she shatters beautifully. Her pussy clenches violently around you as she cums hard, crying out your name. Her body shakes uncontrollably as you continue pounding throughout her orgasm, appreciating the sight of her convulsing below you, mouth agape from the pleasure.

When her orgasm finally dies down, you pull out and flip Yujin onto all fours above Wonyoung. You give her soaked pussy one slow lick before smacking it hard with your hand.

“Daddy, please fuck me!” Yujin begs.

You line your tip up and thrust in deep, groaning at how her hot and greedy heat gobbles you up without hesitation. You grip her hips and rail her mercilessly, pistoning your hard cock into her wanton pussy like an animal in heat. You press her down onto Wonyoung, who immediately pulls her into a desperate kiss while you continue slamming your cock into Yujin’s wet confines, the sound of skin slapping loudly filling the room.

“Fuck, Yujinnie, your pussy feels so god damn tight even after all the fingering,” you grunt, relishing in her snug heat as you split her open with every thrust.

“That’s what I’m good for. Fuck yes, harder, daddy!” Yujin moans into Wonyoung’s lips, her words now an incoherent gabble of degeneracy. “Everything is all for you. My useless little throat. My strong, firm thighs. My tight, slutty pussy. They’re all yours. All for you to use.”

“That’s right. You greedy little cumslut,” you growl, still pounding Yujin mercilessly. “Acting as if daddy doesn’t fuck you enough at any chance he has. Acting as if daddy’s cock is the only thing you need to survive. Admit, Yujinnie. Admit how you can’t live without me railing you senseless. Every. Fucking. Day.”

“Fuck daddy, please… I can’t live without your cock,” Yujin cries, desperately pushing herself back onto your thrusts. “But please, can you stop talking and just fucking cum inside me? Fill this slutty pussy of yours.”

“Demanding are we?” You say, pulling out of her abruptly.

“No no no—please daddy I’m sorry! Please give me your co—”

You cut her off with a hard smack on her ass. Then another. And another.

“Stop talking? You should stop talking.,” you snarl. “Maybe I should cum inside Wonyoung instead and let the five of you suffer,” you say, raining down strikes onto her firm ass, listening to her yelp in pleasure from the pain.

“Please daddy, it hurts!” Yujin cries, her voice trembling even as she arches her back for more. You watch her ass swell, red handprints blooming across like flowers.

“And?”

“D-don’t stop punishing me…” Yujin mumbles needily. “Fuck—please smack me more!”

“That’s my girl,” you smirk, satisfied. You push your cock deep into Wonyoung’s pussy again, still striking Yujin’s ass. “I like honest girls.”

“Daddy, I’m your good pretty princess, unlike this rebellious cock whore here,” Wonyoung moans sweetly. “Use me like your cheap little fleshlight. Fuck me hard. I’ll be the best princess for you.”

“You shut up too, princess,” you snarl, pulling out of her only to slam back in to the hilt. “Best princess? You’re so fucking shameless, parading that ass out for everyone to ogle at. Did you ever think about how jealous your daddy would get?”

You keep switching between them, squeezing and smacking Yujin’s reddened ass while demolishing Wonyoung’s dripping cunt. You drill into her so hard your balls slap loudly against her ass with every thrust.

“Y-yes, but only daddy gets to have these cheeks,” Wonyoung moans, her words slurring and barely indistinguishable as you plow her pussy with vicious pumps.

You continue fucking them relentlessly, destroying Wonyoung’s cunt before pulling out and stuffing Yujin’s greedy hole full, hammering her wet walls until the entire room is just filled with nothing but pornographic wet slaps and depraved moans.

You switch between their overstimulated, dripping pussies constantly, pounding them raw, making them cry your name. You pull out of Yujin, gasping for breath, your entire mind now a blur and mess from the impulsive desire to breed them taking over your mind. You look down at them — both girls a complete mess, moaning, drooling, bodies covered in sweat as they keep desperately pleading for something. You aren’t sure whether it’s for your cock or for you to choose them anymore.

“Choose me—please—”

“I need your cock—daddy—”

“Fuck me harder daddy—want to cum—”

“Daddy fuck—destroy my pussy please—’

You slide your cock right between their pussies, thrusting through their folds, savouring the wetness coating every inch of you. Your cock is swollen to the point of bursting, your mind hazy with the overwhelming need to breed them.

“Please daddy… your princess wants your cock in her,” Wonyoung pleads, her hand reaching down to rub Yujin’s clit. You follow her plea and slam back into Wonyoung’s molten pussy, pounding her with deep, powerful strokes that make her ass ripple.

“Fuck, I’m so close—”

“Yes daddy, please… please cum into your princess’s pussy. Please breed your slutty, bratty princess,” Wonyoung begs, staring up at you with lust-drunk eyes.

“No—” Yujin stammers, but Wonyoung pumps her fingers into her pussy, curling them deep, pressing right into her sensitive spot. Yujin collapses with a squeal as she cums hard, shaking violently. Wonyoung captures her lips in a messy, heated kiss, silencing her.

You try to pull out of Wonyoung as pressure wells up inside you, but you can’t. Wonyoung has her legs wrapped tight around your back, locking your cock in her. It’s not much of a lock that you can’t get out of, and your mind screams for you to break free from her grasp, to make the right choice of saving five instead of one, but your hips can’t stop snapping.

“Yes daddy, you need to breed your princess full of your thick, hot cum. Fill your princess’s tight little pussy like she deserves it,” Wonyoung moans into Yujin’s mouth, her fingers working her pussy non-stop. With a shudder, Yujin squeals and cums, shaking uncontrollably on Wonyoung. Her pussy quivers and flutters around Wonyoung’s hands, her wet juices soaking and leaking into where your cock is pounding Wonyoung, making the thrusts smoother and faster.

“Shit princess—”

A single hard slam inside your tightest princess and you’re gone.

“Yesss cum inside me, daddy—”

Pressure swells inside you and you erupt, painting her molten walls white. Wonyoung whimpers in ecstasy, her pussy clenching and squeezing erratically around you, milking and drinking your cum greedily. You keep driving your hips into here through your orgasm, pumping every drop of cum from your aching balls deep inside her.

Wonyoung trembles from the flooding heat, cumming from the feeling of being filled. Her legs shake and her toes curl, a loud, satisfied hum escaping her mouth.

“Fuck, daddy… you filled your princess so full.”

The lock around your waist loosens and you pull out gasping, collapsing onto the couch. You turn and look at the mess, watching glistening streams still flowing out of Yujin’s quivering pussy as Wonyoung’s fingers continue to curl inside her; your thick, white cum oozing out of Wonyoung’s creampied pussy, pooling onto the couch.

“Hehe… I fucking won…” Wonyoung mumbles blissfully, slowly pulling her fingers out of Yujin.

All three of you are panting, sweaty, and thoroughly fucked out.

After a long silence, you cover your eyes with your forearm and mutter hoarsely:

“So… what now? Is IVE going to disband?”

Both girls freeze.

“Huh?” “What?”

“What do you mean by disband?” Yujin blinks at you in confusion.

“Wasn’t this whole thing about wanting to leave IVE for her solo career or something?”

The room falls silent.

Then Wonyoung bursts into laughter, wiping tears from her eyes. Whether those tears are from your rough pounding or from her laughing, you don’t know.

“No?! It was about the hot pot soup bases for our group dinner tomorrow! They wanted mala… but I can’t eat spicy food at all. I’m going to die if I eat it.”

“Mala is a must in hot pot, what do you mean no mala?” Yujin groans, climbing off Wonyoung.

They immediately start bickering again.

“Five of us like mala and Wonyoung is the only one complaining!”

“You don’t care about my stomach and my poor ass when it burns from the spice!”

“Well, I don’t see you complaining when your ass stretches from daddy’s fat cock—”

You cut them off with a loud sigh.

“You do know that you can order up to four soup flavours, right?”

Both girls go completely silent.

Yujin: “…”

Wonyoung: “…”

You pull them closer, kissing the top of their heads with a tired but fond smile.

“Problem solved. Now shut up and cuddle.”

“I have a better solution though,” Wonyoung giggles, tracing hearts on your chest. “Maybe daddy can fill my ass today and tomorrow night? Your creamy cum should help with cooling the mala burn?”

“Fuck you! You already got filled by daddy and you still want more?”

"Yoona-yah~" The aegyo is immediately deployed. "Can't you let me play Moira?" It was overbearing, a little cringe, but also very cute, and also something Sullyoon was used to.

"Not this round. You can play Moira next round," she responds curtly.

"I want to play this round..." Sullyoon clicks her tongue as Yunah forces herself into Sullyoon's lap, and Moira dies immediately. This time, it is truly PEBCAK rather than skill issue.

"Are you not going to move?"

"No, I'm gonna disturb you!"

"Nothing you do can distract me." But Sullyoon know that's not going to last, in fact, it was precisely what she wanted. She feels Yunah's hand squeeze her thigh needily.

Sigh. What a wonderfully failed bootcamp.

It was supposed to be a "bootcamp", a time for the two of them to hone their Overwatch skills together as '04 friends. They should get along—Yunah was Bae, if she played Overwatch, and Sullyoon was Minju, if she played Overwatch! They got their own private suite and Diamond-tier setups for their Bronze-tier skills. They could bond and talk about shared experiences in their groups and in game. It was perfect, except for one problem:

They both played the same character.

Cue the arguing, the bargaining, the bickering. It was hellish, they couldn't duo together and ended up playing ranked solo, shouting over each other in their respective comms. You need to play someone slightly better than you to improve, so they couldn't even 1-on-1 to improve. Things got to a boiling point.

Then it got physical. Yunah tried to grab at Sullyoon's mouse, not letting her pick Moira, and Sullyoon fought back, grabbing Yunah's wrist.

"Let go!" Sullyoon warns.

"No, you let go, let me play Moira!"

Yunah forces herself into Sullyoon's lap, trying to physically block her from playing. She straddles Sullyoon's, facing her to block her vision as the current Moira player bobs her head to try and get around Yunah. It doesn't work, Yunah can still hear the gameplay behind her, so she does the only thing she can think of in the moment.

Yunah kisses Sullyoon, a firm press on her lips. She sees Sullyoon staring at her as she pulls back, and her own eyes widen at what she has just done. She kissed Minju once before during that pepero game, but that was by accident, nice as it was. This was intentional, and Sullyoon's non-reaction scares her. Eyes boring into her own, Yunah looks down and away, drawn to Sullyoon's lips, they were juicy, firm, she wouldn't mind kissing them again—

"What are you doing?"

"I-I don't know, sorry, I—" Yunah tries to get off Sullyoon, only to find Sullyoon's hands on her hips, holding her in place, when did they get there?

Before she can make another thought Sullyoon's face is suddenly too close to hers, eyes closed, and Sullyoon's kissing her back. Frustration over the arrangement had boiled over into frustration of a different sort, a frustration that at least has a solution, a frustration that can be… Released. As Sullyoon pulls away Yunah is daring, gently sucking on her lower lip and—

"Mmmm..." The low timbre of Sullyoon's voice sends a thrill down Yunah's spine, and Sullyoon dives back in to continue the kiss, hands now more daring, wrapped around Yunah's back, pulling her closer and forcing her to spread her legs more. A hand goes to her neck, and without thinking Yunah tilts her head, leaning into Sullyoon's sweet lips—she couldn't help but stick her tongue out, she had to taste Sullyoon. Her own hands dive into Sullyoon's hair, and Sullyoon's purr of satisfaction rumbles through Yunah.

"Sullyoon—" Yunah's words snap Sullyoon out of it, and the hand around her neck jerks away. No!

"Yoona, call me Yoona."

"Y-Yoona." It's a little weird, using her own name, and it leaves Yunah's lips as a squeak. She takes a deep breath and continues. "Yoona, it's okay, I want this too." She slips a leg between Yoona's legs, allowing herself to sink fully on to a thigh...

"Hnngh..." A soft moan, and Yoona's swallows her heart back into her chest—Yunah's fully soaked through her shorts! Yoona stays still as Yunah goes on the aggressive, placing her hands on Yoona's shoulders as she leans forward, grinding herself against Yoona's thigh. It begins to get messy, the sound of soft squelching and sticky fabric beginning to fill the room. Yoona grips the handrests of her gamer chair hard—she has to move soon, else she's liable to stain the chair herself.

A shiver runs through Yunah when she feels Yoona's hands on her waist, holding her still. She was shockingly close, and Yoona kind of edged her there, but she did not mind as Yoona's husky voice whispers in her ear.

"Do you want to lie down for a bit?"

And that's how Yunah found herself in Yoona's bed for the first time, a gap of eleven days in their birthdays culminating in the space of eleven millimetres separating them right now. Yoona wasn't domineering, but she was firm in what she wanted, a hand locking Yunah's wrists above her head. Yoona isn't sure if that's what Yunah wanted, but she has a feeling that Noh Yunah isn't able to say "No Yoona" right now.

Mostly on account of Yunah tongue twisting around her own.

Despite the inability to move her arms, Yunah makes up for it with movements below the belt, legs twined around one of Yoona's, subtly urging her to push her knee up between her legs. When they finally have to break the kiss their chests are heaving, cheeks flushed in arousal.

"Y-Yoona, I really want it." Yoona finally pushes her knee up into Yunah's gap, and she gasps, throwing her head back. "Oh fuck it's thicker than my pillow!" Yunah flushes red when she realizes what she said. "I-I mean—"

"Yeah? And what do you do with your pillow?" There's a devious grin on Yoona's face, and she slides an actual pillow under Yunah's back, giving her an angle to work with. "Show me."

There's no room for further thought from Yunah—already edged once unintentionally, she begins to grind herself on Yoona, smearing her juicy thigh with Yunah's own slick. Yoona's eyes are glued below, watching the dark spot on Yunah's grey shorts grow and spread. Yunah's breaths get shorter and shorter, her core burning as she tries to rub against Yoona harder and faster.

"Oh god yes!" A hushed gasp of relief, and Yunah arches her back, pressing her core deep against Yoona's thigh as she lets go, pleasure rolling through her body, wrists twitching in Yoona's hold. A strand of hair sticks to her sweaty forehead, and she brushes it away when she realizes that Yoona has let go of her—god she needed that!

When the high drops off Yunah realizes why Yoona has let go—she's fidgeting, hands playing with the knot of her sweatpants, as if eager to get started on herself, but unsure how to bring it up to Yunah that she wants her turn on "Moira".

Except, you know, "Moira" is code for getting off.

So Yunah just has to take the initiative. She reaches for Yoona's sweatpants, and the hands fall away, as if to let Yunah take the lead. She stands up to let the sweatpants fall off her, but to Yoona's surprise, Yunah tells her to keep standing, pulling her panties down to her knees instead. In her sitting position Yunah's right between Yoona's legs, and she leans in, planting a tentative kiss on her mons.

"Ah!" Whatever Yoona had expected from Yunah, it wasn't that.

"Is that okay?"

"I— Yes." Of course. Yunah's just as dizzy as Yoona, smelling the frustration coming from her. She's so close she can taste it, and so Yunah licks, sticking her tongue out tentatively and brushing it against Yoona.

"Ahh oh my god!" Her knees buckle, and only Yunah's strength keeps Yoona from causing an accident, hands on her hips keeping her upright.

"Here." Yunah lies down again, allowing Yoona to fall to her knees, planted on either side of Yunah's ears, allowing her easy and safe access to Yoona's leaking pussy.

"Have you done this before?" Yoona asks as Yunah tilts her head forward, inches away from licking her again.

"Me? Er no..." Just imagined it with— Never mind! She dives in and is rewarded with a sharp gasp from Yoona and a few drops of slick—it is utterly addictive, and Yunah plants her hands on Yoona's hips, forcing her down on her face, making sure she can't squirm away as Yunah has her fill.

"Guhnngh!" Yoona's making unidol-like noises as she's eaten out. Yunah's tongue feels nothing like her own fingers, or toys, or her— "Hmmmm!" Yoona's back is just as curved as Yunah's earlier, hands pressed against the sheets as she leans forward, putting more of her weight on Yunah's mouth. She begins to jerk and twerk, falling to her desires as she grinds on Yunah's face. She's so close, she just needs to rub her clit and— Her fingers find something else, and Yoona grabs at it.

"Mmm!" It is Yunah's turn to moan as she feels Yoona grab her scalp, tilting her head and using her. Without Yoona on top of her, Yunah's face would look pornographic—her tongue sticking out of her mouth, face slack, eyes blank. But alas no, only Yoona gets to feel that expression, feel Yunah's tongue rubbing all over her slit, trying to get that perfect tongue to just flick over her clit... There!

"Ahh yes there, yes there!" Two more violent jerks of Yunah's head against her needy pussy, and that's enough for Yoona to cum, snapping her hips forward and letting herself cover Yunah in squirt. She humps and bounces lightly on Yunah's face, looking for the little jolts of pleasure left in her orgasm as she comes down from her high.

"Nngh Y-Yoona, I can't breathe!" She quickly moves away, and between her violent jerks earlier and the clumsy movement of her knees she's almost knocked out Yunah several times.

"Sorry! Are you okay?" She certainly did not look okay to Yoona—her makeup is running, her face is covered in slick, and her hair is a jumbled mess from where Yoona grabbed her.

"I think so." Yunah moves her head gingerly, her neck's definitely sore, if not suffering from whiplash. She lets herself be pulled into a sitting position, slumping against Yoona.

"Sorry, I was too rough wasn't I?" Yoona pulls on Yunah's soaked shorts and ruined panties, tugging them down. "I'll be gentler."

"No you don't have to—" But what Yoona wants, Yunah gets.

"I want to do this." The hand on Yoona's arm stopping her is soon grabbing it tightly, making sure it can't leave as she slips two fingers into Yunah. Sitting between her legs, Yunah's in the perfect position for Yoona to pretend she's getting herself off, and going by her reactions, Yunah likes what Yoona likes.

She starts with slow thrusts of her fingers, making sure her palm can rub against her clit while her fingers reach deeper into her. Then she alters the angle, planting a thumb on her nub and focusing on it, fingers merely something for her to squeeze around. Yoona swaps between the two, increasing in both speed and strength, just like she would when getting herself off. Yunah realizes belatedly that Yoona said she'll be "gentler", and not "gentle". Yoona's building her up very quickly, but with no strength left in her, she has little say in how Yoona's going to get her off.

"Yoona, no more, I-I might make a mess!" A thrilling buzz goes up Yunah's overstimulated body. Yoona recognizes the signs, feeling her hand suddenly get drenched, and she goes just that little bit faster to help Yunah reach her crescendo.

"It's okay, we have your bed to sleep in."

With a wail Yunah bucks violently, and Yoona pulls out just at the right time, letting her spray lewdly all over the bed. After the first gush Yoona's on her clit immediately, rubbing it determinedly, and all Yunah can do is cry a heavy serenade and squirt some more, letting the slicking of Yoona's fingers in her own pussy fill her head. With a final jerk Yunah snaps her thighs together, trembling against Yoona and completely overstimulated, a bit of drool leaking down her chin.

"Now that's a proper orgasm." As far as Yoona's concerned that's just like the one she had on Yunah's face, and she's satisfied with the outcome.

"Really? I— That's too loud for the dorms."

"Roommate?"

"Thin walls."

"Ah. Hm." Yoona ponders for a little while as she watches Yunah finally sit up, wrecked but glowing in satisfaction. "We should make the most of our time here then." Yoona sidles up to her, wrapping an arm around Yunah’s waist and leaning against her shoulder.

"Huh? Um, what about the bootcamp and stuff?"

"We can play a little, but let's be honest, we both suck." Yunah sighs and nods, she can only agree. "And let's be really honest, you loved that didn't you?" Yunah definitely agrees, sore neck nodding harder.

So when Yunah slips into Sullyoon's lap this time yet again, it's after a few days of Overwatch sessions between sex, rather than sex between Overwatch sessions, and both of them are utterly comfortable with one another. Yunah's straddling her thigh again, hand dancing up her other thigh.

"Can I?" Yunah doesn't wait, the fact that Sullyoon's just wearing a t-shirt and nothing else is answer enough.

"Mm." Sullyoon moans in approval as Yunah deftly slips past her panties. She lets Yunah lead, letting her rock her hips against her own thigh, in rhythm with fingers plunging into her.

"F-Fuck I love your thighs," Yunah confesses, shamelessly grinding on Sullyoon with all her clothes still on—that's just how needy she is, and if anyone were to ask “Who’s your bias?” Sullyoon’s definitely her bias now.

"Don't forget about me." Yunah makes sure to plug Sullyoon with her fingers, a rush of wetness welcoming her in. They cuff each other by the neck, pressed forehead to forehead, pussy to thigh, fingers to pussy—they're going to cum together, screaming as loud as they want. Yunah begins to whine, growing higher in pitch as she begins to ride Sullyoon harder. Sullyoon's moans begin to crack and rise to a whistle too, jaw hanging open as the bootcamp has already improved Yunah’s skills in getting Sullyoon off.

"Yunah yes yes yes!" "Yoona, oh god Yoona!"

Crying out the same name they cum together, the sudden rush of slick over Sullyoon's thigh triggering her own squirting climax over Yunah's fingers, the gamer chair suddenly dripping and the floor pooling with their combined juices. Yunah's slumped against Sullyoon's shoulder, and she weakly hugs her friend with both arms, smearing Sullyoon's juices all over her t-shirt, not that she minded.

"So good, so so good..." Sullyoon mumbles into Yunah's neck, sighing in satisfaction. On the desk Sullyoon sees her phone light up, a reminder from her manager that the bootcamp ends tomorrow, and she hugs Yunah a little tighter.

Yunah has other thoughts on her mind.

"Yoona?"

"Hmm?"

"Have you ever played LoL?"

A/N: Initially had an idea for Bae/Sullyoon/Minju/Yunah, and to call it 404z (with apologies to Moka), but that was too much work for now. But a Sullyoon/Yunah idea then took over because their names are the same in Korean, and then I found out they both play Overwatch, and somehow they both play Moira, and their birthdays are close too, and it's like destiny! Yunah's definitely the hidden aegyo type and Sullyoon's the type to accept it like she does with Bae's hyperness, so it works in my head. Anyways I might revisit the 404 idea eventually, I like that Bae/Sullyoon kinda mirrors Yunah/Minju a little, one more outgoing and one more quiet. But eh the pronouns get so messy with just two idols, 4 is gonna be worse, we'll see. 

I had a few title candidates as well, from Re-Yunification to Yu(oo)nification to "Fucking over Overwatch", because they're fucking instead of playing overwatch XD

“I'm going out for a friend's birthday party,” Yuna replied.

“Me? I'm just gonna do some groceries. Didn't get to do it last weekend,” Wonyoung replied.

“Oh,” you remarked. “Can I join you?”

You paused, the three of you staring at each other awkwardly.

“To the birthday party?,” Yuna smirked.

“No! No, the uhh... grocery…?” you fumbled, hesitant.

The pair looked at each other, and erupted in laughter.

The first day back after your very eventful weekend was going much slower than expected. Save for the now conspicuous seating arrangement – you within the sightline of both Yuna and Wonyoung, sat at the center on one side with the both of them on opposite ends opposite you – and the met gazes and heart-melting smiles, work was practically same as normal. In hindsight, to have assumed – or perhaps, fantasized – they’d tease you incessantly today unnecessarily tensed you up. But such circumstances never came, for reasons you couldn’t surmise – at least, until this moment.

“Babe, calm down!,” Wonyoung reassured. “You look like you’re about to pass out.” She pulled your chin towards her and kissed you on the cheek, and the spot burned hotter than any fire in your gut.

“Sorry. I just didn’t wanna make things awkward, or something. I dunno.” Did you feel tears well up in your eyes? Maybe; you were too distracted by Wonyoung and Yuna’s faces right next to yours to enote.

Yuna cupped your face in her hands. “Aww, are you clingy?”

“What? No,” you lied, “not as much as you’re teasing me for.”

Yuna pecked you on the lips with a toothy grin. “I know. Stop worrying.”

You smiled, then chuckled as the whole weight of your anxiety fell from your insides, and the two laughed with you.

You calmly looked around if anyone was passing by, and when the coast was clear you pulled them both into your arms and returned their affections – you kissed Wonyoung, while Yuna smooched your cheek, then you pulled Yuna in, Wonyoung peppering your cheek next.

When you all caught your breaths, you sighed out a single, yearning “fuck,” and the pair laughed heartily as you shut the lights in your office and headed out.

“Helping with groceries is hardly a date,” Wonyoung scoffed as you walked out of the office building.

“Hey, it’s boyfriend errands,” Yuna suggested, looking at you. “I think it’s a date.”

“We can get ice cream after,” you offered, “my treat.”

“See, a date,” Yuna snapped on behalf of a more satisfied Wonyoung. You both glanced at her, waiting for her approval; a grinned roll of the eyes was all you needed to see.

“Aww, I'm so excited for you and it's making me jealous,” Yuna taunted.

“Then go out with him tomorrow,” Wonyoung scoffed. “You're free tomorrow for Yuna, right, baby?”

You gulped aloud. “Y-yeah,” you mumbled, “just need to think of something to do.”

“Why do you sound so awkward?,” Wonyoung scoffed, poking your side. "Loosen up."

You crossed your arms. “You make it sound like last weekend was nothing.”

“Wittle boy throwin’ a tantrum?,” she teased again.

“No! It's more that you're both so...,” you fumbled about with your hands. “casual.”

“Well, we ended our conversation with you committing to date us,” Yuna reassured. “And you are. So it’s alright! We just love teasing you. You're cute when you're flustered.” Wonyoung nodded in agreement. You felt your cheeks flush as they hid in your shoulders.

Man, were you whipped for the both of them. More than the teasing scratching a specific itch (or kink?), you still couldn't keep your eyes off them, smiles warmly greeting yet chillingly comforting. And gaze you did, the mere fixation on their eyes, their lips, the subtle curves and even subtler peeks of skin in their unusually casual sweaters-and-sweatpants outfits of the day, their everything – it all brought to mind the before-and-after of their smiles first in the afternoon light and then coated in your manifest profession of infatuation.

“I’ll go ahead now, still gotta get dressed,” Yuna reached in for one last kiss, a bit more cautiously now out in public. “See ya!”

As she subtly skipped away, you and Wonyoung looked at each other.

“You know, it’s weird she’s the older one,” you commented.

“Tell me about it,” Wonyoung groaned. “It felt like a princess was moving in last night.”

“And you aren’t?,” you teased, bumping her shoulder. She slapped your arm before snaking her hand in between.

“C’mon. You’ve got boyfriend duties to fulfill.”

How lucky you were, you sighed, and the hesitation left with your breath.

=====

Wonyoung never came across as the “act now, think at the same time” kind of person. Yet every aisle she seemingly aimlessly dragged you to in the supermarket suggested she had no idea where things were. Granted, it was clear that she knew what she needed, even without any list prepared anywhere, and weaved through each shelf without a moment wasted.

“Is it really acting first if you think about how to do it first?,” she retorted to your aforementioned comment. “At least I'm not spontaneous. I plan just enough.”

You gestured at the improvised section of the cart. “Around half this basket and just as much ‘oh yeah’s beg to differ.”

“Shut up,” Wonyoung laughed, “I also took twice as long as usual. Now whose fault is that?”

You felt your ears burn shyly all the way until you reached the cashier. Quiet as you stood, Wonyoung leaned into your chest and rested her head on it. “Thanks for coming with me, babe. You made this fun.”

You sighed heavily. “You two are going to kill me every time you call me that.”

She tiptoed and wrapped her arms around your neck. “Then what’s gonna happen if I do this and call you ‘baby boy’ in public, hm?”

You looked at both ends of the empty aisle, out of sight from the old lady punching away at her screen, and pulled her entire body in for a kiss. You locked lips for full seconds, heaving as you dove in deep, even grabbing a handful of her ass. And then, without warning, you let go of her in the next breath. She looked at you with a mischievous, slightly annoyed smile.

“You asked,” you taunted.

“Oho, just you wait until I have my hands all over you, you naughty boy,” she smirked, eyebrows furrowed and eyes beady.

At the register, you helped her pack things into an eco-bag (which, of course, she did have ready). Looking left and right to an otherwise empty lane, you made a quick grope of Wonyoung’s ass once more, this time with your hand inside a back pocket. You heard her barely subdue a moan, prompting an extra loud slap of your back.

“Ow!,” you yelped. “Babe!”

By the time the words left your mouth in shock, you felt a pang of shame overcome you. Did you just call her that? Wonyoung seemed to notice, her scowl replaced by wide eyes and a raised eyebrow. Did you just call me that?, she said silently. The cashier handing back her card cut your nonverbal conversation short.

“Forget the coffee,” she whispered into your ear, pulling you down by the bunched up collar of your shirt. “You are so dead tonight,”

=====

You barely managed to throw the frozen goods in the freezer before Wonyoung lunged at you. Her hands were magnetized to your chest, returning to their place after every lift and throw of your clothes.

“Did you miss me that much?,” you teased.

“Of course I did, babe,” Wonyoung chuckled, kissing your face over and over again on her tiptoes.

You bumped into chairs and tables, tossing cloth after cloth off your bodies and onto the floor, until you towered over her on the couch, kissing her soft face in reply.

“This is different,” you chuckled.

“Because I'm not on top?”

“Yep.”

“Do you want me to, baby boy?,” she ran her hands through your hair, fingers primed to grab you fully.

You responded by holding her face with your hand, swiping your thumb across her plump cheek. “I want what you want, l–” you hesitated. “Love.”

Wonyoung visibly shrank at the pet name, eyes twinkling as they hid behind grinning cheeks. “Damn it, you're making me feel soft.” She pulled you in for more kisses, mouths all over each others’ faces. “God, you’re so cute.”

“All yours,” you mumbled into her mouth. “Sex?”

“Mmm...,” she thought aloud. “Sure.”

“Cool,” you grinned. “Man, that was easier than the first time.”

You sat up and pulled her with you, the both of you wrapping yourselves around each other on her faux leather couch. The lifting of sweaty limbs left traces all over its surface, squeaking as you ground into each other. Wonyoung’s wet folds pressed hard against the underside of your shaft, sandwiched between your hips, begging for connection.

“Need your cock,” she whispered, her wide grin audible from behind your ear. “Need it inside me.”

You ran a hand fondling her tits down to her clit, rubbing the swollen bud slowly with your thumb. Wonyoung’s shaky gasp was cut short with your tongue slithering into her mouth, now fully agape.

“Or I could… use my fingers as promised,” you whispered into her mouth. Wonyoung’s lips curled into a sly, expectant smile, pulling you back over her as she laid on the sofa. “Do your thing, baby boy.”

You slid your pointer and middle up both lips, warm and soft. You met them at the top, right at its stiff, damp bud, and Wonyoung moaned deeply.

“Fuck, you tease,” she groaned.