kooya

–

This would be very apparent from the dinner leaving a horrible taste in your mouth. Even with the five-course meal curated by the most fine dry-aged meats, the savory dishes spliced in immaculate presentation, and the fine refreshments of dessert after, you can’t help but feeling- 

Sick. 

The dinner had been pure, psychological torture from the moment you walked in. In kindness, you’ve excused yourself with a fist in your pocket, reaching for a pack of smokes as a way of coping (or in this case: relapsing). It’s safe to deduce that you’d be better off away from the crowd of people inside and finding solitude outside on the balcony at the long end of a corridor. 

While the quick bliss of smoke, corroding your lungs with every puff and pass, it oddly clears your mind while staring out into the distance. It all hits you in quick flickers - flashbacks blinding you in a mixture of regret and wanting of reconciliation: the image of a woman with her hair swept so beautifully, wearing a dress with thin straps that look like they could fall off her shoulders so easily, standing in front of you with your hands wrapped around her hip ever-so slightly. 

One cigarette goes, and another comes. You can’t stop your twitching hands. She definitely saw it, even from a distance. Staring at the ground a few floors up and the gentle breeze soothing your mind as the two women glanced at you from across the table - how one of them quickly put it altogether. 

Despite how cushy the job was, it was literal hell trying to keep your sanity in check with all these women twisting your mind into a man fucked- 

“I take one good look at you and think you’ll just throw yourself off the building,” a voice grabs one ear from behind, seeing the very woman who might as well point the gun at you and fire at your head, her face just as gloriously cold like the night, bare shoulders and thighs exposed beneath the slit of her dress. 

For one, you’re leering - though not too much - since it’s best not to ogle and give into the urge to consume her entire look, ‘cause the girl’s close but still so far out of reach. Ripping into your stare before your eyes dart elsewhere. “Why are you here, Dahyun?” 

“You look out of it, so I just wanted to see how you’re doing.” 

Surprisingly, it’s dangerously appreciative of the concern, but you know well her silent anger is enough to kill a world leader if the cards aren’t played right. “Cut the bullshit, babe. I know.” 

She blinks, pulls her lips flat. “Okay. Then-” 

For the record: you’re an idiot. A complete fucking imbecile at that. Yet it’s in just the general nature for a man like you to give into desires that you shouldn’t be bothered by in the first place- 

“How long, hm?” 

-to be at an end recuperating such a sinful act. And you’re about to experience Dahyun reaping the absolute benefits of it. 

“You have to understand,” you plead. “It wasn’t my fault-” 

“Save it,” she says, her tone remaining calm; pitying your sorrows (in mourning for breaking the vow you swore at the altar). Reaching, Dahyun steps forward; not in anger, you think. But rather, willing to get the whole story before she comes to her own verdict of the situation. “First Momo, now Sana’s trying to get a piece of you for herself again. I always knew.” 

God, she’s your own grim reaper looking deathly beautiful beneath the shining moon, her dress hugging the curves delicately that you can’t help but surf along them with your eyes. You’ve got this smoky look in your eyes which she notices - and she knows what they could mean, because she can’t break her gaze away. 

“What exactly are you defending here, dub?” You mumble, a hurtful plea, just the thought of Dahyun (and Sana) is making you lose your mind more than just being disappointed with yourself, a part of you that wishes to take everything back and fill that craving of her that’s all-consuming. 

Dahyun’s got no words to suffice, because it’ll just be a revolving door of the same issues over and over again. She can’t help herself, in the way you look at her and how she reciprocates it, like you’re back to wanting her after being pulled away from other beautiful women that are just as equally whipped for her. They can get you all they want, but Dahyun’s yours at the end of the day, drinking in your eyes; kissing you because she’s yours. 

Against red wine and tobacco and you told Dahyun that you’d quit being a chainsmoker, but your tongue slips into hers and she’s falling in love with the very same mouth that did so from the beginning. Your hands grasp around her waist desperately, feigning less care that you’d rip the dress right off of her body; a drastic engulfing as if you’d never want to let her go. Dahyun’s feet then get her pinned against the wall, shrouded away from the world where you’d let your deepest sins rise from the darkness - kiss her until she begs to breathe once more, hushed through slack lips: “Everyone here drives me crazy, including you.” 

It was never meant to be this sort of cruel reminder or notion of how things are; no, not even in the slightest. In the end, she’s the one who’s got the ring on her finger and you’re hung up on whether yours should be taken off or not. “I was angry with you once, but not anymore” she whispers, lips stuck in this heated inferno when you descend down the lower parts of her neck. 

Kissing her pulse, the tip of your nose brushes her cheek. “We both know that’s a lie and you know it,” you say, “You know it; I know it. Why don’t you confront Sana and see what she says about this.” Since this has been a revolving door of many occurrences and girls falling in and out of your arms; though the one who has always stayed is keeping you right where you are. “What could she say, hm?” You propose, blindly angered. 

“What could she say? As if she wasn’t the one to find out about you and Momo in the first place-” 

“And you remember when she called me that night,” you grin, “Yeah you scare me sometimes, but I don’t fear you. Not when you’re like this.” A shrug is what you give when your hands claim her wrists, raising them higher above her head. “Everyone wants a piece of me just as much as they want a piece of you.” 

Dahyun’s gaze freezes, watching as you make way a familiar path of placing an ear to her breasts. “I get that, but-” 

“Don’t bullshit me.” 

“Even if I were to say something, what difference would it make with the others? When Momo got you-” 

“The first time was already rough as it is,” you grumble, “It’s not like I’m being shunned, am I? Besides; they don’t have me. You do.” Your eyes shimmer in hers. “So what if I’m being passed around like a boytoy-” 

Dahyun’s shoulders loosen from your gripped wrists. “Maybe this was a mistake,” she sighs. “I shouldn’t have checked on you.” In lieu of saying: you’re fucking inssufferable is what you are - she blinks right through your face. 

So: to hell with it. Fuck everything and everyone is the best presumption. 

She tries to leave, but you don’t let her, keep her confined to the corner. “What do you think you’re gonna do? Who are you gonna go to? Sana? What would she say?” You ask, eyes narrowed. 

“No. But I might if you don’t let-” 

“Let go? Wow. I thought you’d stay and watch me wallow in my emotions.” Dahyun scoffs at this, since there've been many ‘disagreements’ before. Even when Jihyo made way to you that other time at an event like this, Dahyun was pissed. Your hands find solace at her hips, rustling fabric to skin. “I’d never let you off that easy.” 

You hear her breath shorten as she tries to wriggle out of your touch; drinking in the dark, salacious intent your eyes pool out. “Babe- wait. We can’t, no. Not like this,” she says suddenly, because she knows what’s about to happen - even more humbling and pathetic to her own mind - much less of a plea or surrender in your name. Trying to break free from your hands but you raise hers high; higher actually. 

“Didn’t you want to see how I was holding up?” You murmur, breath warm and lavicious. “For the record: I wasn’t doing okay until you came around.” There’s truth to this statement, overshadowed by the sneer in your tone. Your fingers slip in the opening of her dress, at her waist while the other cups her ass. “I could tell it was bothering you the way you slammed your glass on the table.” 

“Sana and Tzuyu-” and her groan is the first real break in her act. “Ugh. Those two don’t know when to back the fuck off,” she admits, shaking her head. Turns out she was subjecting herself to her own psychological warfare of the other girls ogling at you from a distance. 

You don’t buy her alibi at first, studying her figure as your hand traverses down between her legs: “I did say that you’re even hotter when you’re mad, but you being soaked is another,” you huff, “Look at you, Hyun. You’re dripping.” Normally, you’d take pleasure in finding this out, but it’s overshadowed. “Don’t tell me you’ve thought about Sana on me, too.” 

“Do you really think that lowly of me?” She asks, doing all she can to not notice the press of your thumb on her little clit through the fabric. The assumption alone could be enough to not be on speaking terms, yet it’s very invigorating how frustrated the both of you are. Her head dips - an admission, “It would’ve been so hot, though.” 

“Oh?” You say, settling between her legs, rumpling waves of fabric that were a measly barrier between the growing tent right at the seat of your pants, waiting to meet her long-awaited cunt. “What if I told them I’d also do the same thing I’m doing right now?” you gruff, “If that’s what my girl wants. Fine. Have it your way.” 

Dahyun shudders at the voice; everything about the way your words are presented are so enunciated and punctual: “I’m going to take this body of yours as mine like it’s supposed to be.” 

Her body follows the flow of your mouth and hands, responding to them with their own violation, thighs pressed against each other to sustain the feeling. One knuckle up her cunt wasn’t enough, so there goes another - or two, even - and the fabric between the inevitable crime is only making it worse in the need for more, and rough. 

You’re taking it all in, in the sound of her hot mouth funneling in your ear. Utilizing all the friction you can to make her ache before you’ve even sunk your cock into the poor girl. Cumming in no time flat which is a small testament to how you want her to be, and how she wants you desperate to go all the way. 

So much for her panties anyway: ripped from her hips and lost into the darkness behind. “Whoops,” you say, unbothered (yet you like it despite the little effort), “Didn’t mean to do that. Just hope you don’t drop anything in front of Sana, or Tzuyu, for that matter.” 

(It’ll be an idea for her sometime in the future. Maybe when she’s been riled up enough to get an entire coalition to deal with your insufferable antics - to use you as their own personal servant until they feel like they’re willing to switch the roles around. You hope so, too. Dahyun will never know before the day it happens.) 

Just like how she picked the ideal dress that hugged her body, adorned with all the curves and angles perfectly fitting with the intent of making you notice. Because she knew that you wouldn’t stop. She looks over the dim lights shimmering through the small windows, a small clamor of people stepping outside of the ballroom. “Someone could hear us, y’know,” she whispers, biting her lip as she feels the third knuckle bathing in her slick.

“Wouldn’t be the first time,” you drawl, the gentle groan of your zipper undone. Divide and conquer: work her lips while she gets herself open for you, whimpering at the feeling of your tip pressing hard into her entrance. 

Not that it was some form of protest, wrapping a leg around you, pushing her hips forward for the angle where she likes it deep. Dahyun holds you close, to the neck and with fingers in your hair. You, on the other hand, are shameless and gripping her ass as the pace is being found, snapping your hips upward and letting her back hit the concrete behind her. 

Dahyun’s body is a map you know all too well. It’s easy, and (always) good. She throws her head back and moans, letting the clenching cunt do its work around your length. “Right there, hon,” you rasp, quietly. “Not too loud. Cover your mouth if you have to.” She nods in reply, neck going slack as she can’t fathom the same spot of her cunt being worked over one thrust in the next - like she’s being transformed to a being that your only purpose is to love her. 

For a girl like her- 

One that comes off as inviting and prude in a second, to being an unfiltered deity who won’t back down in voicing her demands where she sees fit. 

Fuck me. 

The dark dress being lifted to reveal more is your own twisted version of a veil. 

Harder, babe. Please. 

“God, Dahyun-” 

“Fuck me like you want me,” she commands, and you have to wonder if she truly wants to get so fucked over and make it the constant reality (which it already should be) to get you apologize with more than your mouth attached with apologies. 

“Christ, you fucking tease.” It’s hardly an insult, but rather an affirmation of what’s owed: “You’re the biggest and neediest girl that needs to know where she stands. Insufferably whipped like there’s nothing else than that.” 

Dahyun winces in reflex, as noticed by her cunt gripping your length like a vice. Her eyes blown in a hazy black, closing them in humiliation while the arousal continues to out her with every slam and drag back of your hips. Her face is against your neck, gently kissing the pulse; one more thing to worry about that’s clouding the impending edge you’re getting yourself off on. 

The preferences in a short amount of time come in quick succession: hosting her up to the moonlight; fucking her fast and painstakingly slow, to the point where she has to slap your face to get your attention, despite that with one more slide down your shaft, she can’t bring herself back to earth as she cums all over your cock. 

“You’re-” you choke because her whine was loud enough for someone to notice, but honestly getting caught would be better than being like this. “Absolutely wonderful, my love. Look at you, sopping all over my cock like you can’t help it. 

“Fu- it’s so good, it’s too good I can’t fucking stop-” 

“Don’t,” you sneer, letting one of her legs back down as she stops halfway, sharply inhaling at the flex of your cock inside her, clearly displeased. “If you don’t stop me, I’m going to fuck you until I cum in your pretty little cunt; we don’t want them to notice it after now, would we?” 

The groan slipping out of your fiancé’s lips is pure music, mixed with her climax, but with every upward stroke inside she then realizes what was currently happening. Dahyun pulls your head close, where her mouth is back on your ear, and it’s a siren’s call: “If you really want to show that I’m yours, then you better mark me where everyone can see-” 

“An absolute fantasy, baby. Oh my fuck-” you slip here because the idea’s way too rewarding with how the whole thing unfolded. “I bet you’d like the thought of seeing me get off with the others just as much as you are right now.” Because it could happen, and it will; just entirely a matter of when that time comes. 

You kiss her, brutally, with teeth and tongue and every mixed emotion of anger and denial and wanting to own up your regrets to take back what’s yours. Dahyun feels it in the rough heat, and she’s hot all over. A bad desire that’s only boiled from the tension prior because you’d much rather have a mattress to fuck her in as opposed to sleeping in shame on the couch. “I’ll make it up to you. Here,” you confess, thumbs pressed to her hips as they hold her in place while you’re pushing the angle a little more deeper. “I’ll fuck you as many times as it takes if it helps you forget what the other girls have done with me; when you’re full and cock drunk and begging for more, then you could at least stop pretending like you’re not mine.” 

“Please,” your girl sighs, and she’s begged for your cock multiple times, enough to tattoo it into your skin and bones. It almost makes her feel guilty; it’s in her eyes, and you might’ve both misunderstood each other- maybe. You get yourself off in her, thrusting without any sense of remorse, letting her moans fill your ears until it all becomes white noise- 

“Yes, yes, yes, yes-” 

You blink right through the simple praise, naturally cumming inside her like she’s meant for it. 

It then gets messy, lackadaisical. Your entire body shudders as rope after rope is put inside her hole. Her head nods in approval, rubbed against your cheek. She’s melting in your hands, almost enough to make you worry she’ll slip right through your fingers. 

“Fuck,” rasps Dahyun. “You came so fucking much.” 

A groan is all you give in response. 

She coos as you slip out and see her wobble, sinking to her knees, holding her breast and swiping her tongue to the underside for a quick second. “Think I can make you cum with my mouth in a minute?” 

You gaze down to her beady eyes, breath hot on your balls. It makes your cock twitch on impulse. “I have a better idea.” 

“Scared?” Dahyun tilts her head in confusion, which also forces her to stand up without you telling her. “What’re you-” 

“You can clean up my cock later when we get home,” you say, lifting her leg and place your cock back in her needy entrance, revitalized from her small taunt. A few more thrusts even long after you’re spent, and you’ve came in her again. The tightness squeezing around your cock makes you leak when you pull out and land a little more cum on her inner thighs. 

“Oh my god.” says Dahyun. “Fuck- you really couldn’t help yourself-” 

“Save it,” you spit, take a moment to stop the shaking in your legs and get your pants right. Dahyun dips a finger to the mess below and has a taste for herself. She looks at you without any care, and your hips feel stiff once more. 

“Do you realize how hot you are when you’re angry?” And she acts like the cloth doesn’t cut both ways.

“If you want Sana to know where we’ve been,” you tell her, grabbing her chin and forcing to your height advantage, yet she bites her lip because you know she likes it. “You’d show her yourself what’s under that dress, while also thinking of me.” 

–

Granted, it's been a few days after the message.

God forbid the efforts to come crawling back to her would make anyone insane for that matter - considering the occasion she was at and the amount of prestige it carried. 

The wonders of fashion shows: glamorous in all its might; the kind that would put her on the map. 

When that door swings in, she doesn’t really need any further introduction:

“Kept ya waiting?” asks Momo, hand sliding up the frame and flaunting an elbow on her hip. Taking her downtime to the usual standard of Hirai Momo she stunningly owns you know all too well. That trademark head tilt and simple smirk -  a small telltale of which you wonder if the sun should’ve stayed along the horizon just a little longer for someone like her. 

“Please,” you say, following her in as she walks backwards, eyes trained well on your stature. Attentive-  too attentive. As if  she wants something. “If I really despised your guts, you’d have a restraining order from me already.” 

“Yet here you are,” she replies, letting you fill the opening in front. A familiar proximity you catch yourself in with not just her - but with Dahyun, Sana, Tzuyu, and freaking Jihyo of all people at times. There’s a pattern to be drawn in this. Somehow you haven’t sensed it yet. 

“Here I am,” you repeat. And that’s the usual track, unfortunately. From every angle, you’re recalling the recent escapades you’ve done with her. How the lingering thought of omitting any idea of her from your mind was forever the impossibility. You’re keeping it slightly professional with your hands behind your back, the posture upright. 

“I’m in a sour mood with you,” Momo then says, swiveling her body into the wider space of the hotel room - a recurring solitude that’s considered one of her many homes. “Hanging me out just because you’re a little scared? What’s Dahyun gonna do? Dismember me?” 

“You’ve seen her angry,” you laugh, settling your bearings and sitting on the edge of her bed. “Trust me, I’ve had to do a lot so she wouldn’t kill you instead.” 

“So what? It’s not like you’re being put on trial - having a little fun. Get a little scandalous from time to time.” 

“Momo-” 

She laughs, fingernail to her lip. The neat pink and white robe she’s wearing is molding to her figure. Especially with the “V” neck cut: it does everything to exemplify her tits. 

“I’m just saying,” and there’s a hush in her tone, once the space at your lower half is filled by her legs. Again, you’ve seen her build multiple times - more than you would like to count or admit - how the details can be noticed on her waist, her ass, the flawless proportions where you’ve bent and mangled until she’s a mix of an unapologetic, screaming mess begging to be belittled in all the ways you adore and love. Her hands dance on your shoulders, twiddling on the small hairs on your neck. “You’ve got a lot of nerve, coming to me behind your girlfriend’s back. Remind me again: Was it- hm, girlfriend? Fiancé? Or- here I thought you’ve asked the golden question to her-” 

“Good things come with time,” you say. To that, Momo rolls her eyes. She’s smirking at the loose sentence - since she knows her word will be more superior to yours. 

“You could say the same thing about your cock,” she then says, fiddling with the bow at her middle. “That and your charm- I mean, seriously. I’m jealous of Dahyun sometimes. How she’s managed to keep you all to herself.” 

“I could propose that we have an intervention together.” Your expression lights up slightly when you look up, full of Momo’s star-studded, sly gaze, the dreamy lashes she bashes over yours that really shine when she’s glowing in the low lights. The illuminating ambience of yellow and orange mixed in the background. In the late hours of the evening above the busy streets and meeting atop the clouds. “Talk about the many, many issues you and I have going on. One where we draw the line of who gets the final say; one’s word over the others.” 

Momo pouts at that, defeated. Or at least that’s what she wants you to think. “Not even gonna let me persuade you into changing your mind?” 

“Depends.” You’re lazily holding her ass, probably on purpose. Every move from this point on won’t be managed by your words. Now that your mind is made up and there’s nothing left to say. “What’s in it for me?” 

She unties the ribbon of her robe, and lets it fall onto the floor. 

There’s a lot of questions as to why you did what you did - why you keep doing it. Why you spend a good amount of your schedule doing the devil’s work with every sin committed enough to place you at the top of his list. She’s partly the reason you’ve been in this position over and over and over. A recurrence of the sweet libations offered by her are an addiction of their own. Her words are one thing. Her body- 

(Well, let’s just say that the company knew what they were doing when she flew out to do this gig.) 

She’s coated in grey with leopard prints canvasing the fabric. Most of the seams are at the right tightness that forms her silhouette in curves you didn’t think were possible. You note the second layer beneath and a nice contrast of that fluffy pink bra on her chest - where the small gems were neatly placed and the pendant is buried right at her cleavage. 

Oh, she’s model material for sure. There’s no denying that. You don’t need to think back on all the brands proffering for her signature. The selling point was pretty much the given factor. 

You’re no different than any other person cordially invited to fashion week. With the observing eyes showing and the parted mouth as a plus. 

Momo looks the part: the fuckable girl everybody wants. 

Though, you’re a cut above the rest, because you’re the only one who knows her well. 

(How much she likes it when you fuck her rough, pull her hair back and into the mattress, pin her arms on the wall trying to brace the impact of your cock pushing up her cunt; disregard her for anything else. A personal toy for your own disposal. The late night booty call you’ll always make time for. The girl who’ll match beat for beat at everything you dish out. She knows no matter how hard you try, there’s a piece of you that belongs to her.)

“Well?” asks Momo, wiggling her body in your hands. “Any first impressions?” 

“I’ve got a lot on my mind,” you say, enamored, tapping the groove on beneath her bottom by reflex. “Like they really didn’t have to capitalize on your ass like this-” 

“Bless the stylists,” she replies, lowering herself slightly so only your eyes are full of her cleavage. “Bonus goes to the cameras for getting the angles right.” 

“Now I’m starting to wonder-” 

“How could a wonderful girl like me be able to pull off a look like this?” Momo laughs, cradling your head as you breathe her tits in. A terrible habit, but it’s a natural instinct given the features. “I mean- Jihyo fits hers very well. And if you think back to Nayeon’s Louis Vuitton towel-” 

“I can go down the list over and over,” you say with a palm between her legs, pressing roughly; she seethes. “Though, I’m off the clock currently.” 

“I figured, but-” she chuckles, reaching over for her phone while you observe her movements. 

The screen lights up, eyes darting up and down with record pace. A part of you assumes that she’s sending a message to one of the other girls you work with as a way to stir the pot and spice up the competition- maybe. Yet her lip-biting grin is impossible to interpret. 

“-thought I might show you this.” 

For a better lack of response: you’re just left speechless. Then, you helplessly look up as she wiggles the phone in her hand, eyes and mouth sharing the same smirk. “Awwww. What’s the matter? Cat got your tongue?!” “I’ve been reduced to staring at this point.” 

“As you should,” says Momo, beaming with victory. “Haven’t you been getting my texts?” 

“You’re aware of my policy when I’m working: permanently on do not disturb.” 

By punishment: Momo lays claim at the scene of the crime with her lips. Normally, she would bend to your will, take her time; usually, that’s not her style, but that soft side is an exclusivity on days where she can let her walls crumble for a rare moment. Her lips are always sweet, carrying the kind of kisses that would sweep anyone off their feet or rewire their brain. Though, there’s a sense of urgency behind this, as if it was something long overdue. 

Her arms slither around your neck, straddling your thigh. You hold her close with one arm while the other acts as a support behind you, leaning back. 

She smiles into it, taking ownership. You try to utter a response but it’s swallowed down your throat and her fingers claw deep into the scalp. There’s only one way where this was going: one of you is going to be ruined by the other. 

Momo pulls your lip - a slight pinch with her teeth, and your hand shoots for her hip as a sign of restraint. Drawing back with lidded eyes; the gentle swipe of her tongue, savoring the taste. The grasp of your fingers doesn’t faze her at all. 

“Holding yourself back, are we?” She asks, fanning her breath across your sloping cheek. Ghosting your head while her arms press inward - pushing up her tits. “I thought you were able to handle this-” 

“Your questions aren’t gonna flatter me, sweetheart.”

“Oh, I’m sure,” says Momo, settling on top of your hips, inhaling sharply as the pressure from the seat of your pants pulls her head back. “God- you’re gonna drive me insane if you don’t get your fucking bottoms off right now-” 

You help her arms up, motion them to the straps of her outfit. She lowers the first layer below her tits; that neat, pink push-up bra would leave you ogling for hours if she just had that by itself. Thankfully, she’s got the bodysuit to her waist, ruffling her hair nicely to her shoulders with a lean to the right. 

An opening for the next move: kissing her neck. To that, she presses you in while her other hand grasps her left breast, grinding against your hips while the shivers work their way up her body. 

“So eager- and forward,” she breathes, airing a laugh. “Fuck, I’m jealous of Dahyun when you touch her the way you’re touching me-” 

You bury your nose into her cleavage, lick the beauty mark above her left tit. Looking up earnestly. 

Momo holds an expression over you. Intrigue, for one. Teetering deeper into insanity, as another. Seeing her slack mouth is enough to tell you she couldn’t comprehend just how much missing you had been driving her crazy. She winces when you’re happily biting away at her skin. 

“Wait.” 

The puckering pop of your lips echoes into the walls of the room. 

Momo freezes for a second, which isn’t like her. A smirk breaks from the corner of your lip while you stare up, and she gets thrown off by the person hidden deep beneath your eyes. 

Gyrating her hips to yours, her mouth twitches. You lick your lip. Anticipating the next move. 

“This poor kitty too stunned to speak?” You ask. 

The girl in your lap hovers a hand above your face, her thumb tapping your lip. This is the kind of power that women dream of over a man. It’s one of the few moments that rewires brain chemistry for a second. You lick the pad of her thumb and watch as her brows arch in surprise. 

“I could never tell if you right now is for show or it’s actually for the things I want you to do to me,” says Momo, eyes trained when her thumb slips between your lips, unable to move from this position. “Jeez. It’s actually like- really bad. How dangerous you can be.” 

“It isn’t just me,” you say. 

“No I know, but-” and Momo is caught of guard when you’re catching her off guard with the next move: pulling from the neck and getting those perfect lips of her in the right place - where they belong - with more reverence into the feel and every audible smack getting more addicting than the last. Her palm rests on your cheek and your hand slides down the firm line of her back, stopping at the one of the two dimples right above her ass. It’s an unrefined tension, a forsaken oath left unspoken; the mere infidelity of it should be enough to make you single after this. Though, Momo sucks on your lower lip and you’re sure that the pit in your stomach deepens; a cable waiting to snap; when it does, it’ll flare up every nerve end in your body, making the synapses grow more desperate. 

“But what?” It’s a taunt, and it’s all certain this girl is going to lose it. 

“You’re never easy,” she sighs, in a gruff tone that rolls nicely with her register in all the things sultry and begging for more. Her nails scratch the ends of hair behind your neck. “It hasn’t even been that long since our last meeting and you’re driving me insane.” 

Your hand makes its way down her bodysuit in response to her rocking body as her mouth stays to your neck. The fabric’s gotten more damp compared to a few minutes ago, but the friction of your fingers will soon add to that. It’s similar to operating through fog - figuring out where her cute little clit is and when you guess the general area: right above the wetness, you press down  and Momo sighs in relief. 

“Haven’t even got to the best part yet,” you groan, “and you’re already dripping before this is even off.” 

“It isn’t just me,” Momo says in a subtle callback. She lowers the clothing to her waist, revealing that same pink, fluffy bra. Her hand goes back, unclipping it in this well-practiced party trick. You’re left staring again when she pulls it from the middle band and out, letting it fall to the ground. At the same time, your tongue immediately darts for her nipple. “I can tell you’ve been wanting this too-” 

With little control she had left, Momo slips your hand inside her body suit in guidance, where your fingertips swipe against her folds, and that makes you notice one thing: 

“No panties during the runway performance? Oh you had this planned all along, huh?” 

Momo bears no response, a crack in her facade when your mouth stays on her breast and keeps your fingers still to her shifting hips. She’s already gotten you this close away from Dahyun that every second spent with you is an advantage. 

Her whole body shivers in pleasure. The only language she can speak at this time is in tongues, mixed with sighs and pants and pleas and more moans. 

You’ve got your whole hand between her legs beneath the bodysuit, and how she wished it was your mouth instead, but she’ll be content with just this. These circling fingers and slipping between her folds, her thighs press against yours, longing for that release. 

As if she deliberately planned (which is unlikely, but the possibility isn’t entirely out of the question) for you to come all this way to see her. With that cryptic text and that extremely fuckable outfit that the stylists have blessed her in. But you know well that Momo (most of the time) doesn’t think things through. For this instance, you’re convinced that has. 

“Please, baby. More-” she begs. And her yelp is a nice noise to her when you bite on her nipple. 

“I’m gonna-” 

“Mhm?” 

“You’re gonna make me fucking cum-” 

The desperation rises with her body, only staying with your gravity and grasp on her. Her mind can’t keep up with your efforts. Once the moment of bliss finally strikes through her body, she hardly contains the sensation tearing through her body. 

Momo’s cunt quivers as she cums on your fingers, seething a breath between her teeth when the butt of your palm grinds against her sensitive clit. Her forehead rests on the top of yours as she hunches forward, prolonging the orgasm you’ve gifted her. 

“Look into my eyes, Momo.” You order. “I wanna see my pretty girl’s face after cumming.” 

She lifts her head- slightly. Oh, you know she’ll listen to the praise when she deserves it. This girl heaving and parting her mouth low as she feels your fingers slip inside for more fun. Momo’s quick to get her arms wrapped around your head, suffocating you with her tits. Not that you’re complaining, of course. But her weight might tip you over if you get caught in the moment. 

Then, you noticed she hasn’t complied with the instruction. Which earned her a slap to her thigh, and her skin newly marked red. 

“Does my slut have to be told what to do again?” You tell her, harshly kissing her neck and leaving an obvious bruise with your teeth. 

Momo, as eager to inflate that being shrouded deep in your mind, nursing that ego. She listens. 

There’s this state of elation that’s experienced with her, how much control you’re willing to give her with cuffs around your wrists, only to switch it around and have a makeshift bind made with your belt with her hands behind her back as you pound her into the mattress. Or, slapping her face with fingers wrapped to her neck. It can get raw, then sensitive: she’s a walking sex magnet and it wouldn’t take much for you to bury your cock deep into her wanting, open cunt in the exact way she wants you to. 

There’s a keepsake in that regard. As fucked up as it may be. 

That street goes both ways. 

“Baby- mmmm, fuck.” A rasping Momo breathes, trying to stay composed as you mark up her neck. Lathering up a layer of spit on her porcelain skin, mixed with the blemishes of reddish pink spread across her chest. “I can’t wait anymore.” 

“Use your words, bun,” you play into the exchange, hushing her with another assault of love-bitten kisses. 

She cups your face, biting her lower lip. You see her eyes flick back to the head of the bed. For a second, you’d want to follow her words - her orders - but you’re reminded: she made you come to her. Now she has to work for her long awaited reward. 

“I thought you were capable of using your mouth to speak, hon.” You taunt, lightly grabbing her chin and pulling her closer. “Unless you’re trying to use that mouth for something else.” 

“Yes. Yes,” answers a needy Momo. “If you let me- I can only say please-” 

“Then get on the bed.” Is what you tell her. 

You’ve never seen Momo’s eyes light up with so much excitement before. Then again, you’ve caught that same spark in many moments: like the first time she lured you away from Dahyun and had you moaning her name not long after. It should’ve been the last time, too. Then, it started to turn into a pastime. 

She shifts from your lap to the front of the bed. Each movement of her arms and legs, so meticulous and fluid which fit her dancing appearance. Resting nicely on her stomach and head perched to her elbows. The back of her bodysuit is in view from above, and it highlights her ass exceptionally. You can’t help but stare again. 

“Someone’s been waiting.” 

“Can’t you tell?” Momo asks, sticking her tongue out. “It was all I could think about earlier.” 

“Uh huh.” 

“I’m serious!” She exclaims, leaning forward and burying her nose against the fly, inhaling. “Besides, you were getting hard while I was grinding earlier. And god I can even catch the smell. Your pants aren’t even off yet.” 

“Mind giving me a hand, sweetheart?” 

Momo, dutiful as ever, reaches for the seat of your pants as you get your hands to the belt buckle. Like a practiced duet between two performers: she’s got your zipper between her teeth and her shimmering eyes can be seen in the dimmed hotel lights. 

One layer, then the next. You keep your hands to Momo’s as she bites your waistband and pulls it down after. With your cock springing out to her cheek, brushing the tip of her nose to the underside and lowering her eyelids as she lets her face get the feel for it. 

“Finally,” she breathes, thoroughly examining the length. Her personal (and favorite) toy. You can recount the number of stories she’s told you, fantasizing how much you wreck her with this one ‘charm’. It’s too known; all too well. 

The tip of her tongue sweeps the base, and you feel those plump lips kiss a vein. On varying occasions, Momo would get right into it, forcing your cock deep into her throat and letting you fill that hole for your own pleasure. Though tonight, she wanted to savor what she’d been missing out on for the past couple weeks. Despite being the unlikeliest characteristic, Momo takes you by surprise again and again. 

Her lips and tongue only spare you a mere second or two before they’re back on the skin of your shaft. Coating it with her spit and getting you wanting for more.  

Soon, she’s got the lovely duo of her finger and thumb, barely wrapping the root. You let go of her other hand and she cradles your balls. Heavy, you hear her say, but most of it is muffled as she presses a nose right at the middle ridge. 

God, it’s an act in reverence. Your knees buckle at the weight of her touch. She eggs on with the teasing: only slipping the head of your cock between those thick, pouty lips and letting the tip of her tongue slash the underside that straightens the length on reflex. Momo’s edged you like this before, in a litmus test of sorts. Always wanting to try new things and each and every single of them has nearly killed you (and her both) in the process. 

“Momo-” you slip, palming her cheek as she sucks harshly on the underline. “We’ll be here all night if you keep this up.” 

“That’s the plan,” she laughs, grazing her teeth with that damned smile. Legimately: fuck her. And you will. “Just wanted to show you how much I missed my toy.” 

“You’ve got a problem.” 

The girl at your cock spits on it. “Could say the same thing to you.” 

You hold her jaw, guiding the cock with her hand attached to the right angle. “Shh,” you coo, biting your lip because the mere thought of holding back would only make it worse. “Be a good girl and open up for me.” At this point, Momo makes a gaze when she looks up, and it’s a similar gaze that she has for concept teasers: the blown-out-smoky-eyes kind of expression, like she’s aware of the effect she has on people. The ungodly things that they would do to get a girl like her in this position. Here’s the worst part of it all: she’s right between your legs and fingertips, and she smirks. Lowering her jaw - and only her jaw. 

Slotting your cock into her slack mouth is utter perfection. The girl gags for a second; expected, and you adjust with a slight pull back out. Adjusting her head, she sleeves your cock into her throat again, and it’s effortless. 

Her hands are back to the sides of your thighs, nose to your groin. The sound she emits from her vocal chords onto your cock is heavenly. A struggle of breath mixed with a cough, which only led to soaking the length more with spit. 

You watch her take her time getting used to your length. Holding your breath, flexing the muscles in your stomach. She wants to make sure the tip of your cock is tucked into the deepest part of her mouth, to the point where the rest of the room fades toward blackness, and Momo’s head is the only thing you see in your blurred vision. Yet she looks up, dragging your tip against the inside of her cheek and it’s an image you want to treasure forever. 

Bless this girl and her practice; the gag-reflex is practically nonexistent. Sliding you out of her mouth before she finally lets her mouth do the rest of the work. 

She hums when your fingers comb her hair in purchase, adding the bonus of gripping where you know her preferred tension. A heavy sigh passes your lips when her tongue sweeps the underside, right where the flick meets the tip of your balls. “My god, Momo. Fuck- just like that,” you rasp, barely keeping it together as your hips buck forward. 

Momo gasps for air, taking your shaft and slapping the weeping tip across her wet lips. “Hmm I know you’ve been missing this too. I just can’t help it. You have the greatest cock I have ever seen.” 

Cradling her head, she takes care of the rest as she holds you back in her salivating mouth. If the heat was already this good. You could start to imagine how it would feel to be wrapped around her walls in the next few minutes. But for now, the tension and release of her throat contracting and her clenching tongue is good enough. The woman’s brows knead in determination, focused on massaging your cock in the back of her throat. 

The only thing that’s keeping you standing is the foot of the bed against your knees. Makes you stand against the tide of Momo’s perfect mouth. She’s having all the fun in the world, keeping her lips where you want them to be and ruining you from the inside out. It’s a practiced rhythm, and you’re palming her neck and cheek; feel the graze of her nose to your waist in a seamless motion. 

“Good slut,” you hiss, keeping her head in after there’s an audible click in her throat. There’s that tongue again, flicking in all the ways you love and like. 

“Mmfmhf.” 

Momo taps your thighs, granting her the ability to breathe again. A thread of spit forms from your tip connecting to her upper lip. She licks it off along with your soaked cock. You discard your blazer and the rest of your dress shirt underneath, toss it off aside for her to wear once all of this is over. 

“You’re not done yet, are you-” 

She shuts you up with her throat begging for more, burying your cock once more and gripping your thighs ferociously. You hear her mumble a sentence of sorts along the lines of ‘i’m not letting you relax just yet’ but all could be heard is the sloppy suck-licked mixture of her lips and tongue, moaning over your length that spikes the nerves in your muscles. 

“Mo-” you barely get out of saying, but Momo mumbles a ‘mhm’ instead and she’s nearly getting you there. “Your fucking mouth, I swear to god-” 

The hums and slurps only get louder. 

She might just siphon the fun out of this if she doesn’t stop.

And the worst part of it all? 

She keeps going. 

You grip her jaw and drag yourself out of her face. In doing so, you huff at the graze of her teeth, resisting the slip out to the best of her ability. She loses; you twitch as the tip hits the pad of her tongue and bottom lip, and she smirks. 

Her head lowers right beneath your cock. Fixated on the bead of precum peaking at the slit. You see her eyes cross, and she doesn’t stop smiling at the sight of it. Licking it clean off as a small appetizer for her (eventual) hard-earned reward. 

“You taste good,” she praises, and you stop her from treating her mouth to your balls. 

“I’m done going by your way,” you tell her, patting her cheek to which she bites her lip at the feeling. 

“Party pooper. You were enjoying it. I saw your face. How much you missed my filthy mouth.” 

“That fucking mouth of yours will kill someone if you don’t control yourself.” 

“Why would I have control in the first place?” Momo asks, closely matching your height as she brings herself to her knees on the mattress. “I’d rather have no restraint if it brings out the best in people, no?” 

You clutch her neck again, and her hand clasps your wrist. Keeping it there. “You’ve got a fucked up sense of character.” 

“Sana calls you ‘daddy’ from time to time,” she replies. “Do you want me to start calling you that as well? Or what are you gonna do about it?” 

Momo brings her face closer to yours, just inches away from your lips. Your hand is still attached to her throat. The proximity can lead to another kiss, and it almost gets there - almost. But you push her back to the bed, tug the makeshift leash which is one of her legs, turn her around so her backside is now to your hips. That remarkable ass is all you want to see and hold for days. 

“I think I know what I have to do to knock some sense into you,” you say, feeling out the fabric of her bodysuit, stopping at a spot right close to where her seeping cunt resides. She seethes at the feeling of your fingernails finding a hold in the ridges, yelping at the tear of threads that reveal another hole for you to fill. 

But it’s met with another surprise-

“C’mon Momo,” you chuckle in disbelief, not because of the image that’s in your eyes, but the fact that she would be the kind of person that would go to such lengths to do it. “You’re telling me you had a buttplug up your ass during the entire performance?” 

While you’re trying to come to grips with the sight of her perfect, pretty pink cunt, it’s highlighted with an obvious object protruding Momo’s ass cheeks right above it ; shining with a glossy metallic finish, but it’s Momo-ified to her standards: molded into a heart with her member color of dark pink. 

Gratuitously fucked up, could be the best way to describe this girl. 

“I wanted to try it out,” Momo responds, wiggling her ass in front of your cock. Her back arches deep as her arms splay flat on the covers. “Nayeon made a bet with me and I lost. That was punishment.” She looks over her shoulder and flicks her hips up and down. A tease that goes on endlessly. “I can see the gears turning in your head, lover boy.” 

You puff your cheeks and pull a flat-lipped expression. 

“I was gonna keep sending you pictures to spite you. Because you never see them, anyway. Dahyun has you wrapped around her finger as it is.” 

“Well then,” you say as you take a knee, eyes full of Momo’s hands on her ass, spreading her plugged pucker and cunt. It’s a gratifying art to admire. The girls you oversee - each of the nine bringing their own charm to the table, masterfully created and tilting your head in angles where your neck might break through all of the melting. She shifts her hips side to side with your fingers attached - you never want to let go. “Consider you have my full attention.” 

“Then what are you waiting for-” she spits midway when your tongue gets that first, satisfying lick of her folds. “Ugh. Fucking finally.” 

The mere thought of Momo in this state is pure debauchery. None of that could be exemplified with every lap your mouth makes to her sweet pussy. Like she’s a forbidden apple in the Garden of Eden and you can’t help but submit to that low saccharine tone she speaks in: praising and moaning one moment, cursing your being the next if she doesn’t get what she wants. 

“For the record,” you're breathing hot over her cunt, biting one of her folds as another taunt. “You rode my face the last time you had a fashion schedule.” 

Momo rolls her head around, planted to the comforter. “Yeah, and I had your cock in my hand as a punishment. What about it?” 

Your nose fills the space, and the tip of your tongue messes with her clit. She curses again, loudly. Her attitude unravels more and more by the second. It could be enough, but it isn’t. 

“How many more times can you say ‘fuck’ in a single sitting, hm? Think you can hold it together while I split you apart?” 

“Oh please.” She looks over her shoulder; the curve on her spine only curls further. “I don’t need to answer that for you.” 

Right when she tries to rise from the bed, you’re quick to push her back down; take the reins in her hair, and pull. Momo’s eyes flutter in surprise, but it can be easily read that it’s all an act of what she expected of you. 

“What does my perfect whore want from me?” 

“To bend me over-” followed by an audible slap on her ass, where the first mark of red forms. “And fuck me- fuck me full, again and again. Make me your cumdump and mess up this pretty pussy with your cock.” 

God. 

God help you. 

God help her. 

Everything about her is a calling you fail to ignore. 

You rest the head of your cock underneath her weeping entrance. She’s close, so close. The restraint is eating away at both of you for holding back still. 

Until you carefully weather the worry away, pushing your tip past that first press of her folds. Watching the line of her shoulders tense even tighter at the first thrust. Drag back for good measure, get your bare length wet and ready with her slick, and push harder the second time around. 

“Fuck!” 

“My god,” you breathe, angle her ass higher at the press of her beck. “Tight.” 

Momo’s body follows on its own accord, her walls clenching tight around your shaft. You make do by spreading her legs wider, perch the hips at an angle where you can rut your cock in the deepest part of her cunt; figure out the precision first, then let it be sloppy after. The one-two combo of her ass and pussy will make up for the slack when your brain’s been reduced to mush and all there is to focus on is pounding her enough for the other guests to hear.

You lean forward, let your cock push itself to the hilt by her entrance, reach for her tit and pull. 

But the slide out is just as rewarding as thrusting back in. Every pleasurable inch almost makes you think twice on whether you want to take away this sensation from her. 

“Baby - ‘swear to god- fuck-” 

She shudders when your tip is nestled right between her puffy folds, gasping. Her whole ass wobbles. It’s incredible. 

“Atta girl,” you croon. Kissing the line of her back - everything else is blurry but she’s giving you the only lifeline you’ll ever need. 

There’s a moment of pride when you push back in again, hard. Momo’s head flicks back in whiplash. Writhing in the feeling a bit considering how long it’s been since she last took your cock, but it’ll come to grips sooner than you think - you know that much. 

Every impact you dish out is rebounded well with Momo’s bouncing pair of her cunt and ass moving in a staggered combo: her ass to your hips with her pussy following the next second. You hear her swallow more air as an attempt to shelter the moan rumbling in her throat, but it’s pointless. The anchor your hands have to her hips, resting in the groove where the tops of her thighs meet keeps you in place - a press that pushes her deeper into the mattress beneath. A maneuver that is perfected when Momo’s face is looking down, and her ass is offered up to you; grazing her walls to that sweet spot where the nerves throb a little more roughly. 

“Can’t- can’t. ‘m gonna- fucking- sweetie-” 

“I’ve got you. I’m here,” you mouth into her shoulder blade. There’s only one thing she wanted you to do: to use her. A far cry in the form of a cryptic message and all you could think about was her immaculate figure and curves flaunted for everyone to see, but she’s yours. Oh, she’s so yours. 

Your hand can only support you so much, so the next option to resort on is hooking to her waist, listening to the thick groan when the angle doesn’t change and you’re still rucking that sweet spot where you’ve figuratively killed her over and over. Her knees are about to give too; the press of her ass on your cock makes you throb harder. 

Momo’s hand reaches for your neck, sobbing. There’s a laugh mixed into that as well. You can tell her eyes are closed and mind is blown, fucked. 

“Like this,” she says, gritting her teeth when you suddenly slow the pace, give her these singular thrusts of your hips: (not) nice and slow. “Fucking use my pussy like this.” 

“Yeah? Is this what you wanted?” You manage, caught off guard as her body twists, kissing your lips. “Do you realize how good you look when you’re like that?” 

She goes limp, panting. You grind your cock against her walls slowly still; hands canvasing her back and waist, feeling out those same curves you’d want to kiss and lick until she tells you to stop. Then Momo mumbles into the duvet, “i know you love how my pussy takes your cock,” and all you give her is a sigh of disbelief.

You stop your movements as Momo does the work for you, pushing her ass back to your groin and overachieving with a similar wiggle from earlier. The next best thing you can get around by is cupping the swell of her ass, have the skin ripple before you meet her halfway and fuck upwards, watching your cock get coated with her essence even more. 

“It’s so fucking thick inside me- jeez.” Momo grits, and every curse she spits is more punctual than the last. “My perfect pussy good enough for you, pretty boy?” 

“That fucking mouth of yours,” you spit and your voice is coarse. Matching Momo’s antics. 

“Then fuck me more,” she tells you, lips slipping against your cheek. The skin contact is way past electric - getting more and more desperate. “Want you to own this cunt - ‘cause it’s all yours.” 

“You have no idea,” and this comes after you bury your dick in the hottest part inside her, make her body stiffen and you’re pushing her further into the mattress. “How absurd you are- this fuckhole, Momo. My god-” 

At this point, the front of her body is flushed with the comforter, pinning. An angle where the pressure around your shaft is just at the right level where every slip and drag back would be enough to drop a load inside - it’ll happen, but you struggle to believe how much she clenches even tighter. 

“Baby,” breathes Momo. There isn’t much she can do in this position, feeling her cunt full of your cock. 

Frankly, she just has to lay there like a good slut. You’re telling her this as the pace gets more primal, reduced to a pure instinct. Momo’s eyes meet yours for a quick second: blown out and past the threshold of the first of many orgasms you’ve fucked her through. 

Only to watch her hide and muffle her voice into the pillow. This version of Momo is where you like her best. Belittled and disregarded as a pure vessel of pleasure. Get off with her holes and claim her for the night before reality sets in come the next daylight. 

Her moans and sighs clash inconsistently. Your hand flushes with hers as it grips the covers. “So good; so fucking good - I can’t believe this cock isn’t even mine. What the fuck - you selfish motherfucker. Fucking me like you mean it because it’s too addicting to forget-” 

Well, yes. 

She’s right. 

“My lovely doll getting her pussy stretched out? Cute.” And your mind is trailing to a knife’s edge, watch as a layer of white forms on the top of your cock. Giving you more finesse into the slip in and out in one continuous flow. “You’re just saying nonsense, hun.” 

“Please- please-” 

She’s beyond savoring the feeling. The only reason you’re here in the first place was to get her off. Yet that sword is piercing her as it is the same for you. 

“Breathe for me, Mo,” you murmur, licking her ear. “Lemme fuck this cunt for you, okay? Relax.” 

Momo’s hand places yours to her face, sucking on a finger to satiate her heaving exhales. Her mouth parts with the tilt up and hook to her neck. “Need you, need your cum. Please, baby. It’s yours. So yours. This fucking cunt is all yours.” 

“Yeah?” 

“Want you to burst,” she sputters. On the precipice of falling off that edge even more. 

Suddenly, you stare at Momo’s back as the rest of her body tenses, reaching that high. The shrieks she makes aren't like her, but that’s all credit to your hard work. You notice the buttplug again, just right in the middle where it covers her puckered asshole, blocking it. She tenses even more when you press on it, and her whole figure just spazzes out of control. 

“Fu-fuck! Right there! Right there, right there, right there-” 

“Where should I-” 

Momo grabs your arm as her cunt’s bottomed out; the flex of your embedded cock could only prolong the release as much as it could, and the seized muscles in your hips and legs keeps you still. “Inside,” she whispers, “nowhere else.” 

But- 

You have other ideas. 

In a fast act, you pull the buttplug out of Momo’s ass. Her hole swollen and opened up well once it was deprived of metal bead that she’s been hiding. You pull your cock and aim it at the spot above; the first rope going through and the second immediately after. Part of your brain short-circuts and snaps back into consciousness as your load gets pumped into her uncovered asshole. 

“Oh my god,” Momo gasps in pure disbelief, biting her lip and humming at the threads of white being plastered in her asscheeks. “You dirty fucking boy,” she says coyly. 

You gaze on her face and watch the flush of pink come back to her, then fixated on the sudden wave of heat all over the head of your cock, trying to stay the course in each sinking inch as Momo’s ass takes in all the length. You’re leaking white from the tip still, and it’s equally cruel when you’re spreading her pussy lips below and circling it to overstimulate. 

“Fuck- Momo. Your ass - holy shit.” 

“Can’t help yourself to gape me,” she shudders. “Fucking your cum into my perfect little ass; never wanting to pull out?” 

But your brain can only handle so much of the new sensations to your nerves. Your cock is bathed in white, vanished into the lovely canvas of Momo’s irresistible ass. When you eventually slip your cock out of her ass (and press into her folds for good measure), your eyes kind of just- stay there as the first glob leaks out of her cheeks, dripping onto the covers. 

Momo lays there, zoning out as you fall right next to her on the bed, fingers grazing the tip of her chin. “You - have got serious issues.” 

She laughs at you. “Yeah, but what else is new?” Kissing one of your knuckles - maybe two. You’ve got a thumb to her plump lips and there isn’t really anything else left to say about it. “I don’t mean what I say when you’re railing me from behind.” 

“Slut,” is what you end with. 

“Oh but you love me.” 

–

(In standard Momo fashion: 

You’re hiding a smile when she pushes you out of the hotel room. Staring at your disheveled hair and rumpled dress shirt with your blazer hung to your shoulder. She didn’t even bother tying up that robe, and the tits and waist are like another pair of eyes lasering you as well. 

“What if someone sees you like that?” 

“What if they see us?” Momo huffs, unimpressed. “That article is gonna burn one of our careers and it is for damn sure it isn’t yours.” 

Looking around, there’s no one to be seen down the long winding hallway. “Be lucky that no one’s watching.” 

“Don’t fucking jinx it?” 

“Only saying it if you want to see me again.”

Momo, being Momo, walks out on her tiptoes. She’s good at faking the part of being the calm-hearted, pretty girl where you know it’s completely the opposite. You’ve told her many times. Everyone’s told her the exact same thing - though she does it anyway. 

She lifts herself up to kiss your lips. No need for her nor your hands as they’re bound to your back, since she’s got that natural rule to always be gravitated by you.

“I could’ve sworn I sent you flowers before the show, no?” 

The girl pouts, humming a long tone. “I’m just messing with you. Of course we did.” 

“Just making sure,” you smile.

Momo goes for one more kiss - because she can’t help herself. “I’ll see you soon, okay?” 

You nod, because the assurance is more sobering than the guilt. Even with the girl who has the biggest doe eyes you’ve ever laid on, she still manages to create some sort of lifeline: 

“Thanks for coming over. And-” right as she steps back into the room for the night, there’s a pause with her hand on the door. As if there was something holding her back. To which she says: 

“Happy Valentine’s Day.” 

–

“Ready?” Anna asks you, anticipatory. 

You nod in compliance; the routine finally begins: 

First step: your right foot goes forward, Anna’s goes backwards - she’s one to seek first when you least expect it, falling under introspection- Step two: left foot goes to the side - Anna, like always, is adamant to introduce a new concept to you she discovers- 

Step three: right foot follows same pathing as the left - it’s something new (plausible), plus it’s something you’ll find intriguing (perhaps), and lastly I appreciate you trusting my ideas, a lot- 

Step four: left foot backwards, and Anna’s foot does your pathing now - and it adds the suggestion of how she paints these expressions - these stepping stones into her heart- 

Step five: right foot goes to the side - and you’re feeding into the curiosity because of the wanting to go beyond the nearness of each other- 

Final step: left foot trails behind - then suddenly, once the tension’s thickened to a point where it’s nearly suffocating, inches away from closing the space; you break away from kissing her, and the loop repeats- 

Like a neverending record - going on forever and ever; which in itself, is also a dance. You dance with Anna hoping to have the waltz embedded into the learning algorithm. Hope to eclipse the feelings, dangerously calculated to an eventual outcome. Before the new mission parameters were delivered, you browsed through Anna’s tarot cards since most of the checks were already completed by then. Diagnostics and readings were leveled; other amenities were stored properly. You’re coworkers, crewmates, two beings longing for warmth. Your reflection doesn’t see you any different. 

You remember the first time Anna offered to dance. Ignorant and dismissive aside, you couldn’t bring yourself to match her gaze. And it’s not often that you would dilute time into anything else outside of protocol, for one thing. 

At times, Anna would wander in the ship with her mind clouded with slumber and darkness, wearing her fleet’s blazer or some dusty jacket over her sleepwear - considering the Primrose was cold, and (as you’ve deduced) the nights were colder. It’s especially a rarity to see Anna’s bare shoulders, let alone the chapped lips up close and in detail, or question the thought that it's worrying to study her in a more intimate appearance. 

She’s not an object subjected for your pleasure. You know this well enough, and it’s all the more reason to not delve beyond that conclusion. 

You’ve exceeded in doing so. Countless cycles lost in the vastness of space until you felt her tongue clash against yours. Mistakes like that are what makes us human. 

Passionate. Engulfing. It had those two characteristics and so much more. Why wouldn’t it have more? It’s easy to notice in the exchanges you two share: explain to me how we get ahead of ourselves is one of the many caveats she presents, and soon your composure warbles away from common sense and nothing seems to compute. You have a hard time picking up the semantics and decoding because some of the terms are indiscernible, trying to process and understand. Another slow waltz, maybe. Don’t hide. It’s futile to try. Kiss me. 

Once everything eases, and the sweat subsides on the shores of skin faded into the covers of her bed. Your mouth slacks, frozen. Anna’s paintings: with a boat and two figures sitting inside, on the endless ocean, give a close interpretation of the threshold waiting to be passed - the Primrose’s mission, to be exact. 

Though Anna’s paintings are her stories - her soul, and you’ve looked there rather than her eyes. Found desperation and desire to escape. Left her quarters riddled with in her taste, and stare deep into the reflection of the mirror and feel the sticky gloss on your cheek. 

You’ve processed (and stabilized) the state of elation. Straying away from comfort you deemed as ‘unstable’. Though some aspects were appropriate, change was always an incalculable factor, therefore: unstable. States on the brink of war and terror were unstable. Unstable synapses firing in your brain seeing Anna’s nightgown in its sheer appearance. You have trouble computing the idea of her - how you want her, and quite literally: all of her.

-

(Here’s what you did since the kiss: going through the log of reports and requests that were for her eyes only. Countless days and hours in the mission and Anna’s been far removed in being professional (and luckily, it’s just you and the computer receiving these messages): 

> status report, Anna Tanaka, quoting on the screen: "unfortunately ive decided to not care and will not read the attachments sent to me.” 

> service inquiry, Anna Tanaka, about the sudden drop in oxygen levels, quoting: “so what if i don’t breathe, one of us will be alive anyway.”

> mission advisory, Anna Tanaka, at approximately 00:00 hours, quoting: “what if we just steer this fucking ship off into the burning sun representing our love, huh?” 

You are both idiots. As Anna would allegedly claim.)

–

Thankfully, you’ve disciplined yourself in running through the usual checks, rather than acting like you don’t know what’s going on. 

In your discovery, this would’ve been the perfect time to do that order from a few megacycles ago: get in the spacesuit and fix that shitty panel that kept blinking on the monitor while getting tangled with the cable while laughing with Anna about how dense you were about your emotions; say a shitty comeback about Anna’s bedside manner and justify the warning was from a few scrapes of damage left by the small debris when traveling through the rings of Indiga (eloquently summarized in your readings back to mission control): “we had to adjust our course to help compensate for the trajectory of the planet’s ring pathway.” 

Once that was done, now you could debug the Primrose’s balance from the cockpit. No way to tell when you might make landfall at the next world nearby. What might happen when Anna steps off the ramp without any protective gear on; finds out the ground is incredibly toxic, and melt right off the face of the planet. 

–

Anna insisted on going outside, but you rejected the suggestion and took her place instead. 

Venturing into an atmosphere mixing the pressurized gas of the decompression chamber - the sub-zero temperatures acting as a good barrier to start in creating space. New objective: distance yourself ; keep focus and all thoughts rational.

You wander and think while crossing the icky, green fog blending into the hills. 

In doing so, you helplessly think about her. 

–

When you return. She’s wearing the same nightgown from before. 

“You’re back!’ Standing in the middle of the sliding door watching you dust off the collective dirt on your arms. “Do you wanna practice dancing again?” 

Twisting your gaze, she leans forward, the strap skating off her shoulder. It’s a brief moment in the dialogue - the one running through your head, frozen at the request. “I think you got it this time.” Anna’s so willing - I know, I’m overbearing, letting you do these things out of tempo as we’re kissing, so please- I beg- and she’s frightfully intentful in making it worse. 

Intentful for one thing, yet thrilling for someone like her to be ambitious - making you fold in a game of poker while she held her hand (a pair when you bought her bluff), and it’s simple to deduce all other hypotheticals as well. She’s a bug in your line of code, manifested to to defy all rational calculations. How she easily reads what you tell - even more horrifying to be solved and understood. 

She makes you feel like a human being; help defy your maker that much more difficult. 

–

So, again- 

You’re dancing with her. She praises the improvement, humming. You’re not stepping on her feet as much compared to the first time. Every step and move is carried with precision, sometimes hazy and fritzing the logic; falter one motion, and your hand slides lower to the divots on her back. 

“I still have trouble understanding,” you tell her, “The significance of dancing on Toyama.” 

Anna slots herself at your arms and middle, blinking. She doesn’t say anything to answer, going through the steps, saying, “it’s an intimate connection with the person you like.” 

Swaying left, then right, your feet do the same. Her skin touching feels electric. “Somewhat answers my question,” you drawl, hesitant, “doesn’t help the prolonged eye contact, though.” 

“Like what you see?” 

“I’d prefer to consider it uncouth.” 

Anna shelters her smile. “Here I thought wearing this gown would get you more curious.” 

Your foot skates forward on accident. Faltering. Stumbling. This dance, you presume, isn’t entirely subtle - the same could be said for coming up with a lousy alibi, too - but it would be extremely unordinary for either of you to take the long way ‘round in the space with each other. Any flash of impatience simply taints the comforting moments, and you’re not willing to try. 

“You still believe I’m not bad news for you?” She asks, pressing closer; your hand holding hers and the warmth so close. A finger brushes her cheek and the touch sensitive, makes you wonder about the adversities her mind and figure has gone through to get to this moment. I could’ve fucked you off if I wanted to, she probably would’ve said, the weight frugal and heavy in her words. You blank out and don’t actually answer, which leads to Anna lecturing another lesson: “In Toyama,” she starts, “dancing has a very special meaning, one that transcends beyond connections. It’s dangerous to the point that the practice had to be prohibited by the nation.” 

Though you shake your head at that. The State didn’t have a say in this setting at all. You ponder and get inquisitive. “Why would it pose a threat in the first place?” 

“Unity,” answers Anna. “With dance-” lifted into a spin and your raised arm, and the surroundings start to blur in your optics, “it’s not just the bodies joining as one. Your hearts, too. Linking that forms a bond, and binds all of us together. Yet the State seems to think otherwise.” 

“Destabilization and discord, yes?” 

“Not exactly. I was thinking more of being- intimate,” she chuckles. “Think of it as dissension and intimacy going up against facism. We’d be probed by others because it’s so foreign.” 

Here your feet and hers start to mirror. Then the thought of being intimate creeps into your mind, how your build isn’t meant for it - the design is flawed - you can’t help but feel automatically dejected because of it. Being curious about yourself has left you so disappointed that it can’t even be self-pleasure let alone masturbation. Your body is desperately wanting to be something more than just an object at rest - something more, something that can not be at rest. 

Tilting your gaze, Anna reflects. “Maybe the Higher One is seething at us making the most of this journey,” you smirk. 

“I believe so. They can’t relate to us,” she says. “We’re impossible to punish, and willing to defy; every step in dance is just a symbiosis of angling the bodies together, counting and feeling the music-” 

“There you go again, Anna. God, you really can’t help yourself.” You huff, which rewards a hearty laugh out of her.

“What?! Did you hear what you just said?” You notice the twinkle in her brown eyes when she knows she’s unbearably bewitching. “I’ve been teaching you the wrong thing - do you see your feet? Why are they matching mine? They’re both the same?” 

“I find the humor to be confusing, still.” 

“You’re still stuttering behind me, and listening to my terrible rendition of reciting literature,” says Anna. “I find you to be adorable and want to show my affection by never losing you.” 

You agree. Of course I don’t want you to let go of me, but the physical aspect of your body and hands meeting hers is still a work in progress. Which can also be noticed in being gullible to her antics and the ugly handwriting of practicing Kanji she wanted you to try every now and then. 

“The letters change the whole meaning of the word,” you say. “Now I know there’s a difference between ‘go’ and ‘ko’ depending on the context.” 

Anna’s laugh fills your ears. “I commend you for the effort.” Her heels are above the floor with a chaste kiss to your lips - deliberate, but full of life, she could’ve worn a different garment without being aware of shifting fabric morphing to her figure. It’s that, and how she would’ve done a different activity rather than dancing without welcoming the risk. You try your best to guess her next move before she makes it, which ends up failing every single time. 

At the corner of your eyes: memories of a time long past, the blend of thick and thin lines tearing like a faulty television screen. Flickers, you’ve deduced. Visions of a love finally found - a love finally complete. 

One step to the side, then back. Your frame bends to her will and you wished it was the ship’s hull instead, because it was pointless to compute. For someone that isn’t really you - it can be discouraging as a clone- 

To hell with all of that. 

“Do that again,” Anna instructs, requesting a spin. 

And you comply. 

Her dress slithers off at the shoulders, uncovering skin healed from scratches and bite marks. Holding back was an option you deeply thought about, and might’ve been the right choice the other night. You did hold back and restrain from doing any more damage, but the urge can easily break like glass, and things like that are meant to be destroyed. 

The first spin request flows her hair so nicely, and you repeat the same move because it’s enjoyable. Because she’s beautiful. And because this moment might be captured in this floating time capsule across space. Her firm body against fragile threads; the move slips the strap down to her arm. Anna giggles. Tugs it back with two fingers onto her collar. 

Aw. You see her eyes dart at the porcelain skin. I meant to do that. 

You pull her close. Raise her left hand to your right. “You’re not fooling anyone,” she announces flatly. 

“What?” 

Anna’s eyes squint, “Staring at what happened. I saw that,” it’s a careless praise. 

“Why yes,” you nod proudly. Explaining isn’t a thought when you’re deeply influenced (and to her eyes, she finds you cuter like this). Being irrational is also against your logic, but it’s really nothing but these ideas: pinning Anna to the wall behind you and kissing her, or getting her on your lap (to kiss her) before she drops to her knees (and spreading your legs); the simplicity of yielding to addictive temptation fueled by her intentions, strip her singular garment and watch as the color blossoms on her skin. It’s all leveled. You’re swaying one side of the room with her. Left foot out, right foot follows. Right foot out, left foot follows. Continuously. There isn’t a reason for you to keep your mouth closed around her, and soon you feel your voice tightening with one end grasping to rational thought, as the other tied between Anna’s fingers. 

She sees it in your face; the lump forms in the throat. “Having fun, my love? Happy?” 

“Very,” you say. Grinning, drunk on her uplifting gaze. “Not sure how much I can keep myself together.” Being honest can also be a mistake, too. To that, Anna smiles: she knows, and it’s horrifying. “Because you want me,” she deduces, guiding your arms down to her hips. You hold them there. It’s awfully cute how she has to get on her tiptoes to try to whisper. “The tension’s rising higher between us, yes?” “It’s because,” you sigh, “you’re incapable of persuading.” Your name rings through your ears, every tap of her fingertips is a new surge of electricity. Soon her palm is on your cheek; you keep staring down. “Hey, hey- my eyes are here.” The fine beauty is all in the details: the gentle blush canvased across her cheeks, the humble glow on her chest; with the cool air running through the hull, her nipples poke through the nightgown. Behind those pretty lashes and eyes is a constellation that’s gentle and inviting. The real fine beauty above everything is the balance of arousing need she exudes that seems to match, well- yours. 

Anna taps your cheekbone, giggling. “It’s impressive that you’re failing to realize the effect I have on you.” She makes you feel small - not in fear, but in the rush of reality. “Your gambit rarely succeeds in holding up to mine; with my desires, at least.” Here - the lingering thoughts of regret are snuffed out. You’ve played her games full of deception and bluffs over the little things, and this wasn’t any different. When you finally speak, your jaw is trembling. “I’ve done my best to- stay composed and professional.” 

Despite this, Anna’s face winces; her body seizes as she starts to break. “This again,” her voice seethes, “if you really stopped giving a fuck about control, you would push me down, rip off my skirt, we would both get the same thing in the end.” You stop her movements, and the dance ends. The grip on her wrist grows steel tight. “Anna,” and her eyes roll back at the hiss passing your teeth. “God- fuck. How can you be so fucking straightforward?” “Because I am,” she answers, pushing off. Not meeting her in the eyes is equally painful. “Mind you, that wasn’t a request. I’m being vocal about what I want- what I’m begging for.” Memories come flashing back in flickers: you, spent, uncontrollable - this revolving game with Anna; like the main rockets shot the Primrose deep into the unknown corners of space, there wasn’t a way back home to where things were normal - and honestly, why should either of you care?

You and her can’t help yourselves. Unbridally kissing with flung arms over each other.

The only thing you hear above the smacked lips is the occasional beeping of the flight controls. This new abode - now one with the stars.

Her lips push you back and you’re matching it. Two days ago, Anna was ecstatic to discover your tongue; feel the subtle clack of teeth - her lovely laugh when she’s riddled with bite marks after figuring out all the forms your bodies meld together. Even now - it’s an unknown concept in itself, still- that control was still a possible option to consider.

“It’s not fair - how perfect you are,” praises Anna, thumb grazing beneath your eyes. “Why are you so-”

“You’re beautiful, it’s fucking absurd,” you compliment. Simple, for one, but it makes her smile brighter, and the talk is pointless when all you want to do is make out with her.

Anna gets you good with her mouth. How they slot themselves against yours, easy to pass air between them before it’s all suffocated in teeth and tongue. The only thing that splits your being apart is the fact that you can’t sweat and she can. You have an automated pulse, unlike hers which is real. Blood does not rise in your skin compared to Anna’s; you can’t resonate the same electricity flowing through her body at the merest graze of your fingers that makes her shudder- There’s a reason to be vocal here, to communicate. Actually, you should communicate and speak up; since you haven’t a clue what you’re doing at all.

You pause and pull back. “Wait,” you slip out in a rush, “what are we even doing?” Anna sighs with an inward lip, catching the spit left behind on her chin. “What do you think we’re doing? Being straightforward. Intrusive- shit, when isn’t a time where I wanted to keep kissing you?”

“Maybe we- ugh.” No point in reasoning: you have to shut her up. “I’m not even sure about-” “So what if we’re overcomplicating it, hm?”

“If we are-” her lips are back smacking in between words, “there wouldn’t be a reason to reflect on it at all.”

“That’s it,” says Anna. Kissing you fervently. “I want this- let me-” It’s impulsive - infectious, even. It doesn’t click in your mind once she’s pinned you to the beam of the cargohold, raising your arms. You let that happen. Are you allowed to want it? Would you be okay to rethink your existence and your place in this life? Giving everything beyond your body? For her? Plus- isn’t she your fucking captain?

The conversation bleeds into physical touches. Perhaps your questions may serve more purpose through your bodies, but you find a pointless question worth asking: “is this okay for me? To do this?”

“Kiss me again. Hard.” Anna commands. You kiss her, she kisses back. “Touch me. Play with my body.” Her mouth presses to yours once more. “Reject this if you want, I’ll keep begging, please-” she stops halfway and meets your eyes, “make me yours, as you never want to let me go-”

“What do you want, sweetheart?”

“Fuck me. I want you to fuck me.” Pinching the hem, and all you see is the skin of her exposed thigh. “This is the right way to wear this, for your information.”

She lifts the fabric like it’s the final barrier of your restraint.

Anna’s tongue slips into your mouth sweetly, fingers joining yours. She’s putting everything on the balls of her feet and submitting you to her will. All of your thoughts - your words; hell, you could even include the whole damn ship with it - these pretty, meaningless thoughts quell within your throat. Nothing could ever predict this, the shifting dynamic in the rising power and diminishing submission, just the pure desire and lustful look beneath those eyes.

Her leg slots between yours. Mistake #1: you slip down the wall. Mistake #2: you’ve fallen to the floor where Anna has to kneel (on your lap). Her body has a mind of its own when she settles down and the dress is spread between her thighs and the fabric rises at the crease of her leg. Past the harsh liplocks, the teeth get involved, biting. Accidentally first and soon on purpose. You like to brand her body that way, tug the roots of her hair and hear her gasp into your mouth.

“Bed- I need you in my bed, now.” Anna says with urgency. The catch here is that she doesn’t move nor allow you to move. Judgment is a small choice, but it’s nowhere to be found: neither logical or one to seek an agreement towards. Planning could never happen even if you tried. The same could be said for the ideas since they’re fizzled into kisses once you breathe a single word, laced in the dripping spit on your chins or suffocated in your throats entirely. Your mouths are one way to be inside each other.

The floor remains cold, uncomfortable. Not having Anna’s mouth on yours or the other way around for a few seconds - by your shared preference - is much, much worse that it’s not even sought after.

“-pretty, so pretty,” you praise - and, possibly the only thing you can say to Anna. She shuts you up. Stop- stop talking. I fucking need you.

Finding the breakthrough, and there’s a middle ground: your leg high up the opening where she hunches over to your chest, gasping in reverence. Finally. Her teeth find places on your neck and shoulder to bite. She’ll taste iron and polyethylene, but in the subconscious, you’ll feel it; unlike the other memories in movies and polaroids and the many, many emotional breakdowns you’ve experienced in this spot before - the moment is warm, and very comforting. In its full, real rawness.

“Baby,” Anna groans. She says the pet name in a string of others amongst the actual one. The real name is really the only secret of yours she has some relent towards. You realize Anna’s small frame: how the slopes of her ribs deviate and the vertebrae compressing when she’s tense, the fragility of it is reckless against yours, and your hands are having a fun time in the forward and back movement, grinding.

You keep kissing Anna, kiss her to the point where she can barely breathe and her voice doesn’t go beyond a whimper. Nibble her bottom lip, then the skin around it. Her nails, although chewed, would mark indents of crescent moons into your back or create sketches of red - or you’d wish that’d be the case if you had skin like hers, but she’ll leave her scars elsewhere. Studying her expressions lost in the rapture of you is enough; the grind on your leg is already enough. The desire she exudes is purely authentic, unadulterated, clearly seen in the places she wants to seize- it’s fucking you up. You’re belittled to nothing but a person with disintegrating ideas you once thought about her: how these assumptions may all be a façade, these contradictory wishes, you being too dull, too cold or insensate, too- artificial.

Anna cums. She cums all over your leg. The second it happens surprises you both. Your uttered name is no more than a sound following a seeping moan into your chest. Her head falls forward: shattered, breathless, her body goes loose; her sobbing eyes and cunt wetting you, her delicate fingers, and that dangerous, dangerous mouth - it’s- a lot, too much, unbearable, you hold her, hold her up until-

“Fuck. I-” she sputters, tense at the shoulders. “Why am I-” All of a sudden, she’s- laughing? “I’m the worst. I’m a fucking whore.”

Hesitant to move, you keep your hands to her hips. Blotches of a light purple will blossom in the form of your fingertips. You’re stuck processing the entire occurrence still. “Well that’s-” you barely get out (and your voice is static), “-adorable. Very adorable of you, Anna.” “Yeah,” says Anna, shaikily. “Sorry, uh- I didn’t mean to do that. On you.”

You purse your lips, smirking. “Just taking care of things.”

Anna lets the rest of the weight fall onto you. She likes to hit your forehead with her own; for affection. Exhaustion is a quiet intimacy, and you breathe her in, observe (omit the interaction) the beads of sweat and little baby hairs on her hairline, the cute blush of pink below her eyes, the tiny hairs she’s missed while shaving. The strings on her dress from behind are tangled in a disorganized web: meticulous, but the former since it was impossible for it to be done by her hand. Before the program, you learned that her mother was a seamstress - pledging to an endeavor of exploration in the Primrose with a blank map into the unknowns. You assume she wanted to feel sexy (sometimes). Like she knew that touching herself would be a surefire way to pass time, and you’re curious enough to find more secrets about her.

There were countless times when the secrets were revealed. There was always a reason behind them; learning how an orgasm was plausible enough for Anna to call herself a whore, for example, and while the term may be loaded, it’s possible to think that there’s more to the word. Reasons for behaviors tend to have thorns, and (complexity aside) it’s the best judgement to never expand on them.

Anna’s second kiss is quick. Heavy. Sensual. Dials back the desperation, lets the intimacy simmer there, separating when she can and joining when she’s ready for more, not closing her eyes all the way. Her hand cradles your face before it drifts down to your chest, the fine muscle at your abs, staying there. Slowly. Graciously. Unintentional.

Her fingers skate over where the sensation of touch is still foreign. Diverted away from how she holds your face, Anna’s presence is a binary yes or no with no nuance or eroticism. She breathes color into aspects where they lack, and it’s the irony in your tragic existence: the cryptic soldier riddled with trauma you’ve adopted would have yearned for the goodness between her thighs, in the same fashion you’ve shared the longing for a dysphoric body like hers, if only you could feel anything.

Unlike that version of you in a past life, you’ll abstain from making the same mistake and leap at the chance to live through your partner, and it’s a choice you won’t regret making.

Anna rejected any kind of that delirious thought. “Join me, on my bed. Please, I need you,” she says. Her voice is spent. It takes nearly the little strength she had left, hobbling and soon crumpling in a way her dress exposes the remaining arousal stained on her legs.

Fuck. You rasp in deprecation. “Anna. Anna?”

No response.

“Anna?” Anna repeats.

Your mouth slacks. Being clinical about sex wasn’t the best case to carry on from committing such an act, but for insurance. “Hey. You have to tell me- and I understand if you’re feeling hesitant, but-” your hands are doing this gesture like you’re explaining complete nonsense, and maybe it is complete nonsense. You can’t talk dirty to the girl for your life- “may I- and how you say, perhaps clean you up with consent?” 

Anna laughs, incredulous. She gives an ‘why do you even have to ask so cutely’ face. “Are you kidding?” The eye smile and shattering grin is teetering towards insanity, and her voice trembles. “Look at me.” You blink through it. “Look at what you did to me- honey, I’m fucking dripping-” 

Impulse floods your brain like an ocean sinking you to the bottom. Freezing awkwardness creeps in at the same time. There’s no denying it: you want to taste her. Pick her up from the floor and fling her into the mattress and feel her quivering cunt throb over your tongue. Things would be a lot easier to take your cock inside her on the matter - but your fingers will have to do for now - a lazy attempt where the memories of your prior versions have had the same feeling too- -then it all spins in your head. Anna’s palm flat on your chest, pushes you upright. “Stop.” Fuck- you didn’t mean to- that wasn’t supposed to happen. Did you fuck up? “You’ve got something there,” she points. “On your leg.” You part your legs further as she kneels to lick her own cum off your thigh. The sound released from your mouth exemplifies the break in composure. You’re sure it echoed into the ship. It’s just the two of you, after all. The overarching notion of subtlety - if any  remained - dissipates into the air. Slow, intimate, romantic sex is fun and unattainable until it’s a thing you no longer want - even when your figure is hollow and all you can do is fuck your psychology into her till her body breaks. Sex is another way of communication; to fuck with someone equally as it’s fucking them. The dynamic resets; a passion reignited. You grasp at Anna’s hair. “Look at you, just a fucking-” and whore would be too on the nose, too nice. Slut is a good reach, but the intent is deep in the actions (and embarrassingly so), she grins right back. “Baby.” Anna calls, playful. She’s pretty when she’s on her knees. “We do it your way. How ‘bout I clean you up and have my own fun-” it stops short with a hum and a bit lip, you’re smiling along with her, absurdly. Someone like her can be embarrassing without bite, but she lets it be known. You’re both idiots; sex is a silly thing to inherit, and that’s exactly how this will go. “Yes please,” you confirm - it’s improv at this point, fancying a gamble and nervous about what's to come. “Please.”

The script flips. Anna’s tongue laps the spot where her clit would be, but it’s your cock. She lifts back, slightly. Her kisses are wet and real. Now your arousal is the gravity and past the event horizon, succumbing to its merciless pull. You struggle to believe this is fiction. Watching Anna’s face, when she lets you see it, one full of curiosity that you disregard the deficiencies of your body, leave it as your cap on her nightstand the next morning. You’ll come back to get the insecurities later, when everything’s settled. Anna peppers a kiss to your underside, her breath canvasing the crown. Some of her slick is still on her chin and now on the shaft (another believable fiction, if you will). She doesn’t use her hands (not yet), and has her way of working you up with just her mouth, like a toy. You stare right at the impasse of her sweet lips past the tip and halfway, and you don’t tense. The more she sinks, the more spit sprinkles down her neck and onto the fabric every time she gags . She knows to keep you here for an eternity, and she might just do that. Hell, the silence you had earlier returns in your throat, harboring a newly refined tension. “God, do you realize how good you taste right now?” Anna asks (again, believable) - and she’s aware that it’s rhetorical. Fantasizing your being in an actual body with a beating heart (this is a small testament to your dilemma); if Anna truly loved you - she’s yet to say it, but there is no other explanation - if she loves you, she does- she will. (At the same moment: a gate appears. The point of origin, and you don’t question it. Now wasn’t the time to think back the life before-) Anna spits on your shaft, her hand coming into play. “Is this okay? You didn’t move.” 

You’re not entirely there, and she’s right. The image of the gate goes to the back of your mind, looking at Anna. She has a hand under her gown, fingering herself. Indulgence with her is shameless, and pitifully adorable; she knew it wouldn’t take her that long to resort to such lengths. This is also the first time you’ve seen her where the roles are reversed, where she’s got her head between your legs and not the other way around: purely genuine the way her mouth feels around you. It’s new. Of course you fucking like it. “Good?” asks Anna, thumb tapping your slit and a thick bead of precum weeps. The slight slide of her palm leaves you in a breathless response. “Fuck.” Say something else, goddamit. Sure, it’s unoriginal, for how you’re uncovering these masked emotions. You’re begging- like her, sighing in rapture, humming in this somber swan song. “Anna, god-” Don’t stop. You begged to keep going. Anna then spreads your thighs wider. Your head hits the wall. Her drool’s coated all over your cock. Moaning is all you basically do underneath her hand. You don’t feel anything; this doesn't affect you (well; it’s making you shiver - which, in turn - it’s affecting you). Her: spit-stained all over her gown, wearing it in a way that’s more intimate than being naked. In what’s another handiwork well crafted by her standards: the fact she hasn’t revealed much (yet). She’s being cruel, you think. The squelch of her folds parted by her fingers makes you ball your fists, almost to make the polyethylene tear when the purrs from her throat bombard your cock, how she’s only doing this to painfully remind you of how delicately you want to fuck her. You realize, when she cups your balls with her other hand- “Does this feel good?” She murmurs into your tip, corkscrewing the sensation. 

Yes. The nodding is actually pathetic. You’re losing grip between fantasy and reality; it’s incredibly easy how that happens, like jumping off a cliff or setting your body on fire. “My good baby,” Anna praises, swallowing your tip between her lips. “Should I keep going?” “Yes, yes,” you’re saying, and she never fails to submit you to her will. There’s a groan and maybe a holy fuck- Her grip tightens. The shift from friction to slick wriggles your spine, arching in a sense of cumming had you imagined the experience to go this way a few nights ago. You have pieces scattered - between machine and repurposed flesh - not far from their origin; with those parts making you flawed, it motivates you (in that human nature) to seek that. “My lovely girl,” you compliment Anna, stroking her hair as she bobs down. A surprise on her end, sending vibrations along your shaft. Easy to tell she’s enjoying this as well, but will somehow find an excuse to say otherwise, be in denial- Tell me, tell me how good this feels, she might say, or have already said. Tell me how much of a fucking slut I am for you. Anna pops her mouth off, licking her lips. “Don’t be so tense,” she tells you, her tone dazed, “relax, okay? Just- let me have this. Don’t force it further. I want you to fall.” (You think back to the gate; failing to understand it still, but it’s not the first time you’ve set foot here. Despite its grandeur appearance being unknown, you do know this: it’s a cornerstone to the person (rather, persons) you might’ve been before. At times, the bleeding memories, triggered by chance or in a random instance, and you’ve felt the thought swallow you whole. Love, sadness, and anger, adjacent with a gunshot wound, tattered skin torn from stained metal, leaving you in an anguish so pure it emulates the form of a primrose. It’s always dangerous to stand in this headspace - and the pleasure was always a perilous catalyst.) Once past that barrier, the separation between you and your previous versions stretch and thin, divided in the conflict of perception and transformation. That too, is a dangerous game, but with Anna she instills you with such confidence; you’ve learned through her, you’re allowed to want, and harness that want. Her, the idea of her, her body, her being- it’s a rope falling short out of your reach, a hope to grasp your mind back from above and onto her hands and lips- “Anna, god- you’re so good at that,” you moan when she has her lips pressing right at the base, swirling her tongue underneath. An affirmation made true ascending fiction. When she moves her eyes, adoring, proffering, its perfection in all rights. You’ve seen so many expressions from her; here’s one more for you. Fall for it, Anna’s eyes tell you, fall for me. Anna gasps off with strings of spit and precum laced on her mouth. “I know you love when I do that, please- keep telling me.” Oh, you’re in love with her, but the conclusion isn’t absolute; an answer to an inevitable question. Fucking is equal as living in the present, dancing with no grace is equal as to not dancing at all. You are going to be a mess; a mess with her. You will experience the highest of highs in this endless journey with her, and eventually- You’re going to gracelessly fall from everything. –

(Your subconscious slips into a momentary dream again, replaying multiple occurrences: 

memory playback #1: (target breaker five seven twelve jack) SOS, danger, achtung, error error error - a phrase called upon the last time you truly wanted to be free. You taste a tinge of gunmetal in the kiss. Amidst the desecrated land where peace hardly rests on the crushed stone. You’ve had ideas of crushes before but they never burned or ripped your heartstrings apart like this. memory playback #2: water fills the space where the concrete once stood. A haven- the place where all the nightmares have failed to touch. You fall into the ocean, drown in both exhaustion and exhilaration. Soon, you’re cradling Gawon, on her back, watch her hair blossom into a halo over the saltwater, ignore the fact you might be sinking as you both kiss and kiss and kiss recklessly, see the flame beneath her shimmering eyes and when she finally cums you both feel human- memory playback #3: Gawon leads you to a greenhouse (rather, what’s left of it) near a library; a moment passes, and all of your fractured shards are their own being, in multitudes: your genderbent body next to her female body, the faint hum of the cicadas in the distance subjected to their own repertoire. You wonder if this is what real love feels like- 

-but you also think: are you really worthy enough to be cherished for one so filled with such faults? 

memory playback #4: her long, dainty fingers carve into your back the same fashion yours did to her waist. These scars are going to last forever and somehow you’re okay with it. It’ll be the same as hers. The claws of war never asked permission to ruin your body but Gawon did it anyway, fueled by lust and worry mixed in her eyes. How desperate they were, as she’ll deliver the killing blow with the singular bullet in the chamber- 

memory playback #5: her hand claims your neck as she sinks onto your cock, suffocating you until there’s resistance - like you’re her sacrifice in a ritual. She swipes a line of red on your cheek and the clutch on your heart is nearly lethal- 

memory playback #6: smoke fills the air across ruined infrastructures, old base camps, even the bombarded bunkers. Small pebbles of rubble fall from your back until it’s against the concrete, Gawon’s mouth attacking you viciously (plus there’s never been an instance where you two have fucked if it wasn’t laced with an ounce of desperation). Her tongue clashing yours, forcibly hollowing your cheeks with every suck and all you want is to reciprocate the same feeling, please her, share this feeling, to revel in the connection and disparity of your bodies communicate, shove a few fingers deep in her cunt and fuck your cum into it the next, call her everything but sweet- you fucking slut, my good little girl- “Now now, puppy,” Gawon tells you, palm flat against your mouth, her hot cunt pilfering what’s left for the taking with your cock, caressing her walls over every possible inch she can get, “i’m allowing you, it’s okay. Letting you fill my pussy. How much it wants your fucking cum-” 

Oh, it’s twisted. You have to look at her; you’ve got no other choice. She tips your chin up with a finger and it barely does anything with her gyrating hips, grinding the length down until it pokes her womb. Gawon hasn’t even lifted her hips once, yet the edge would be damming had it been the other way around with the thrusts, but you’re close. She pulls a lock of hair over her ear as she sinks for another kiss, and your legs are fucking shaking; most of the sounds coming out of you are inhumane, let alone robotic. “Tell me what you want,” she hushes, whimpering - the blade cuts both ways. 

“God-” you say, it’s muffled into Gawon’s hand. “Just do it, please. You want this just as badly as I want it,” and the merciful act she commits is raising her hips and feel the weight of her ass slam back down to your balls.

And the next thing she does which may seem unnecessary (but it rewires your brain chemistry because of how dashing she looks doing it) is with the finger to the corner of her mouth and gazing down with every pleading blink you give her - each time you beg or say please and fight against her pressure, arch your back while the waves of pleasure get more treacherous to handle. You can’t breathe with every impasse and slam of her cunt gliding and grinding until she finally has what she wants inside her womb.) 

You blink and suddenly the world shifts again. Anna, oh fuck. Your back arches with hers, then you hunch forward into her chest, pulling her with you to the floor. Soft skin riddled in bruises and clenched fingers. Then there’s the heaving and your voice tearing between breaths, spilling out curses the same rate as Anna would in a normal conversation (but it gets a laugh out of you, adorably) - while all of this may be silly, settling with ease: the accomplishment of diving into your body’s memories without staying in one headspace (a major plus), sharing this pleasure with Anna (an even better plus). To your best judgement, there’s no plausible reasons in your system that could explain cumming mush-fucked brain out on the floor; it’s enticing, fuck- you wonder the indulgence, how long it took to get your cock spent. 

A blessing it can be, to have someone like Anna take up your attention for that long. Maintaining that from the very beginning: that first cycle where the Primrose’s hyperdrive was primed and ready, staring into space with the biggest smile imaginable; to be so forward in creating the everlasting loop of you; in this space where it takes two, to become one. (memory playback #7: “Don’t be surprised by this,” Gawon tells you offhandedly, even though the tears streaming down her face says otherwise. “But I’m an idiot for being in love with you.”) 

It’s a lot to handle, for sure. “Anna,” you groan. She’s on you still, with the slightest move of her hips and you can’t stop your legs from shaking, warming up her cold body the only way she knows how (because she really- really, can’t help herself in embedding you inside) and the floor grows colder and “Anna,” with a lot more urgency, since her chest is to yours and her hips are elevated. “Fuck- baby, I’m- I’m gonna cum in you.” “I know,” says Anna, lips hot to your ear. “I love it when you’re like this: so perfect for me and ready to burst.” 

You reach for something, anything to grab - for your hand to clutch on as her hot cunt grinds through your load filling her up, and Anna takes it upon herself to use her own hand to hold yours. Her fingers still slicked from touching her folds, and you’re grinding teeth to keep yourself sane instead of cleaning them dry. All you can do is lay there and feel her fuck herself on your cock like a toy, petting you, praising, calling you these sweet names, tracing the line of your jaw. “Christ. What have you done to me?” You chuckle, defeatedly. There’s a stutter in the sentence. Almost resonating Anna’s emotions - very cutely, too. “Refining your brain chemistry,” she suggests. Blowing into your ear to mask the sound of your cock gushing into her pussy. “It’s a long and arduous process. Not as easy as wind passing through the ears.” 

“Can you like-” there’s a choke and a laugh, “-shut the fuck up?!” Absurd as it might’ve sounded, you’re aware what she meant: her blowing you on her own bed before falling onto the floor and fucking without a second thought; your coworker, your captain- cumming inside your fucking captain - okay, there’s a lot to unpack, but you sigh tirelessly. “How long has it been since we-” “Fucked?” Anna looks at you funnily, because your circadian rhythm wasn’t something to be questioned nor talked about. “Give or take an hour or two,” giggling with a finger between her teeth. Adorable. “That was nonstop, by the way.” 

“Another round, then?” you say. Rolling your eyes in embarrassment. “Maybe if we have a sliver of self control the break would have come sooner.” 

“Ugh, how scandalous,” Anna coos. You realize that she’s got your cock inside her still, unwilling to move. Basking in the light afterglow. Comparing sex to a beaming moonlight or orgasms to waves isn’t remote, but the shores of oblivion aren’t that damning if she’s sharing the same burdens as you. 

“Oh please,” you whistle, poking Anna’s belly. “Someone’s a little hungry.” 

“Yeah that,” she replies, kissing you. She kisses you again. Both of your bodies are spent and heavy. “Why is it that when I’m this riled up, and I’m having an angry craving because of it. What am I supposed to do?” 

You smirk, let your head hit the cool floor, tilting your chin by Anna’s fingers until she slips a thumb between your lips in the hope the taste stays. “A tragedy,” you breathe. “Even Sisyphus or Odessyus can resonate.” 

“Swan,” grumbles Anna. “I could hop back on your cock if I wanted to, but I’m doing everything to hold myself back.” 

“Commiseations to you for being so highly restrained,” you drawl. 

Anna refutes by pecking you on the forehead before she loosely rises to her feet. You admire her responsibilities in not letting lust take over her body - as you remained motionless to not grab an arm and tug her down. From the floor, you see Anna’s legs: her knees, specifically, how they’re tainted red and look battered, impressed at the functionality of them since the recovery would take a while after what you two did. Your cock doesn’t flex, but it does. 

“Leave me here,” you then say, as a request, quick to answer Anna’s tilted brow before she messes up in asking it. “You said you were hungry, so if you stay here, one of us is going to break, and you’ll be sad and even more hungry and the next round is gonna be terrible and you’ll get in a more pissy attitude.” 

Anna goes motionless, flaring her nostrils but exemplifying the due diligence. “You can kiss your sleep schedule goodbye, then.” 

“Fine by me, hehe-” you smile. “Anna, you’re amazingly beautiful. Did I ever tell you that?” 

“Little dove,” she answers with a lowered gaze, on one knee - both of you know that one more move or touch would be paramount to disregard basic needs and thrive in the exploration of your bodies. “God- fuck. You really gone and done it-” her hands are on her head, “No, stop. Don’t do this.” It’s taking everything in her brain power to resist. “I need to eat, shower, and clean up the quarters. We have a lot to do tomorrow, and on our next location so why don’t we just go rest-” 

“I need my midnight cravings,” you then offer, fingers trembling at the graze of her cheek. “I need- everything that has to do with you, please.” 

You watch Anna stumble back and trip on your cap, bracing an arm to the hallway. “I- oh!” she’s smiling with her head to the beam. “I can’t with you - being so fucked beyond belief. I really can’t do this- oh my god, ugh. Why are you like this? Why am I so hungry? I swear I can eat on my own without you spoonfeeding me!?” She’s rambling and the voice fades (thank goodness) down the walkway- “Also I am very capable of keeping myself accountable, babe. I promise!” 

“Well, yes.” You call back thinking she’d hear it. “Whatever you think, love.” The pet name teeters off your tongue for the first attempt, but you decide to let it stick. “Whatever you like.” 

–

On the occasion you’re not all over Anna and vice versa, the bearings remain with you. 

While taking advantage of the ship’s free time, you’ve found yourself theorizing a plethora of questions worth reflection. Maintenance on the vessel can only go so far (guidance controls are repaired too late, or perhaps without enough care, especially with Anna’s cum still warm on your lips). Personas begin to split, what once felt like a first thought now revealing itself as a connection steadily withering with each cycle. The prevailing sexual tension; the constant are-you-or-are-you-not, has passed. What remains is a return to the first square of restraint, stripped of ambiguity. For future reference: productivity is no longer optional; you’re expected to fulfill the subpar tasks left behind when desire stopped pretending it was direction.

The tension being studied: is it viable? compatible? sustainable, even. Whether it's worth conjuring up a label that substitutes romance or solitude or just pure, unadulterated sex because the both of you have literally nobody else? Will there be a moment when this has to be addressed, or the eventual confession that escalates to something more? Anna, sharing her art, for one. Will she carry on curating such pieces or use the art to replace the time in fucking? That would be the case if she did - you love her works. The expression it possesses. Teaches anew. 

More on the study: would she sketch or paint you? How would you look in one of her artistic creations? Would it be a gaze from a direct mirror, an interpretation, how evocative could you become, a perfect version she envisions you through her eyes? If you proposed the idea of painting you like a bionic human, would you look like Sooin? Sure, it could compensate for the memories, I suppose. They have little significance, you can’t remember who’s who and what’s real; in the end: you are you and why (no seriously, like- why) is it that there’s a resemblance of Gawon with Anna? 

–

(You’ll leave it off as this: 

one: you’re fucked in the head. 

two: maybe Sooin [or Gawon] is fucked into your frontal lobe. 

or three: your brain is fucked. 

It’s one of the three, you know that much.) 

–

Not long after, Anna’s made it to the dining quarters - your dining quarters, as you’d coin it. Shared spaces and all. Couples have that aspect, usually, you overthink it from time to time. 

“Hi,” you greet her, casual, nonchalant, nicking your shoulder into the wall because of how pretty she looked. It’s worth mentioning: “You look good. Like- really good. How is that possible?” 

Anna, on the other hand, leans back on the kitchen counter with an egg sandwich, her fair skin shining and glistened with spit, her nightgown in place (despite the annoyance of not being able to rip it off her. She quirks the corner of her mouth before biting. “I didn’t think of myself that much, if we’re honest. Never was the type to stand out over the others.” 

“That’s a matter of perspective, ma’am,” you reprimand. A good tip in the personal scale of your deteriorating thoughts. “I’d be an exception, because it’s you; the woman I love? a gravity I fail to escape from? you’re beautiful. 

She pouts. “So you’re one to say I was a slut before we did what we did?” 

You can’t afford to fall into old habits. Anna nibbles another piece off, and considering how poor you’ve been carrying out orders, it’s critical to maintain her routines and needs. So you carefully continue: “No. Not exactly, but that also means-” 

“You and your tangents,” Anna shrugs. You see the opened bag of tangerines, peeled and eaten halfway. That does beg the question, but you don’t address it. Given the travel time in space and with the amenities overstocked with the same kinds of foods that exhibit redundancy, and bland as they are - okay, you decide to let it pass and move on. “You love talking about these things and I love to listen,” she lifts a hand forward, seeing that your face remains unchanged. “Why don’t you indulge me in your thinking?” 

Ugh, she’s unbearably cute. 

“Okay,” you say. Composure is broken glass beneath your bare feet and you don’t even have feet to begin with. “Right- my point is, and I’m motivated to belittle you in all the ways you like-” Anna tilts her head with curiosity, and you’re failing to keep this deliberate and chaste, but- “words like whore and slut, or-” 

“If they fit the mold, and said ‘mold’ being me?” Anna assists in the connection. 

“-yeah, and you’re completely fine with it? None of those things affect you in any way, shape, or form?” 

Silence falls between the two of you. “Back in Toyama, most of the girls said those kinds of things- to me. Calling me a lowlife, a slut, whore, a pretty pick-me girl - I mean, I was a whore at some point back then,” she says. Ketchup drips down to her breast and she swipes it on a finger, licks it clean. “I may or may have not written about my teachers and classmates - in a sexual manner-” you bite your lip at her stifled laugh, “-until someone found my stuff when I was away.” 

“Doesn’t mean you had it coming,” you reply. 

“But then I thought: if people who claimed to be not a whore are willing to treat whores as such- what’s so bad about it? It’s not my fault they’re spiteful because they can’t relate. What if I want to be a whore, huh? At least that was until the conversation veered off into the freaking space project-” her arm falls with a scowl on her face, accusatory, and you feign ignorance. “-and that’s just a roundabout way of how you were with me.” 

“Finish that sandwich first and then we’ll have another go,” you supply a reminder. 

“Why don’t you eat it for me instead? 

“Would you rather ache on an empty stomach while I dick you down? Or have enough energy to suck me off while I wrap your hair nicely into my fist? If you don’t take care of that, you're going to be disappointed one way or another, so which one will it be?” 

Anna then bites another piece of the sandwich. “Alright. As I was saying: those girls were idiots. Calling me a slut or a whore is a compliment, and whether or not I am one-” she glances again with food in her cheek, “-you should know with the cum on your thigh and my lips on your cock after. It isn’t really all science, just look at me. Look-” and she slips a hand under her gown, showing the soaked fabric, “-well, it’s been a little while since that, yeah.” 

You can see her eyes move at a frantic pace, the neurons firing every bit of electricity from her brain, then she lets another drop of ketchup fall on her chest. A few more to follow. “Ah,” she sighs. “Needs more water.” 

It makes you consider: the option to surender and push her body down and fuck her over the sink like she deserves it. She’s a mess. You’re the same, but you’re able to make more of a mess with her. How good she could look squirting like a faucet and getting the cabinets wet - another tangent to daydream about, the potential your asymptomatic self could handle. You are both idiots, idiots in love with wants that are albeit predictable. By now you should’ve checked the thrust capacities in the primary boosters, but you couldn’t be bothered with something so boring if it wasn’t for you spending another second with her. 

“You- I can’t. You’ve got issues, Anna.” 

“I’m an undeserving bitch,” she tells you. “You have the personal account first-hand; I got the evidence. It’s gone through all the checks. My pussy and your cock are going to have a very constructive discussion.” 

That turns the gears in your head. “Uhm- fuck. So. I’m just gonna completely ignore what you just said, but this exchange will be brought up in the next debrief.” 

“What is that gonna do? Scare me? Fuck if I care. Do it anyway.” Anna laughs, loudly. “Maybe the universe will finally realize how fucked we both are.” 

“Oh, I’m perfectly fine, thank you.” It’s an announcement that goes over her head. “Sane for that matter. I haven’t a clue what you were talking about just now.” 

“Sane, my ass. You didn’t act like this when you were breeding my pussy the other time,” she says (it short-circuts your brain a bit, too). “Let’s do this. A litmus test to assess how your brain’s holding up. Take this.” 

She tosses you a pack of fruit snacks. Technically speaking, you’re not built to eat most foods, but there’s an exception for a few bites here and there - and thank the maker for understanding that food is fuel, and the acquired tastes for a bionic also gives meaning for a molecular analysis. A part of you wonders whether someone has moved the heavens and earth to grant you as much humanity as possible. On the other hand, you’re torn to be content or deep in thought, but this is natural to think deeply about your personal ethics. None of that mattered, anyway. You nibble down a piece or two. Er- at least make it look like you are. You do get through the package with no problem, but the juices are squished out and required a little bit of tongue and sucking at the bottom- 

“Great, I’ve got this to deal with.” You laugh, wiggling the bottom of the plastic. 

“Aww, a baby can’t finish their food,” says Anna. “I’ll give you another pack.” 

“Why waste your nourishments on me?” You ask. It’s unwarranted. Considering the percentages diluted to your space travel (Anna having a fit because the unit had to be down to an even number ever since she cried - well, ugly cried - about how unfair it was for you two to be shipped off into nowhere, and that you understood perfectly). If anything, you’ll stretch out the rations for another four to five thousand cycles, just before you activate the slate protocol and go into status back into the magnetosphere.

Once that’s all done: it would be a few more cycles after adjusting course to compensate for the dip in starboard trajectory, return to Toyama and spend the first night back in an alleyway making out just right outside the naval base. Anna wouldn’t be hungry, and you’d be reassigned sooner or later. 

All of these tangents, broken down like a square root but none show a result of stability. Technical difficulties and maintenance serve a good distraction of fucking her - a mistake on your own part by following her to the mess before she finished her meal, but you didn’t have a subroutine for that in the first place. You’re a fool that’s led into the whimsical panache and desire from your best friend cumming into your mouth and standing across from her talking about groceries while the overarching topic was about being accountable with basic needs. It’s only natural; normal even. Gawon or Sooin would applaud the both of you. 

Your name rings through your ears, Anna’s high-haltered tone another hymn to repeat again and again (and it’s delightful when she says it). “Who cares if the spreadsheet for the amenities has my name on it. You’re welcome to take some, too y’know. It’s not like the fleet views you as damaged goods, huh?” 

She has a point, it makes you think. “If anything, I wanna gift you nice things, too because-” you pause and look, “-seeing you happy makes me complete. Who knows, I’m only speaking half the truth here.” 

“Half the truth like this last piece of grape? Or my breadcrumbs?” 

“I was thinking maybe a little of the asparagus-” 

“An asparagus eating swan?” 

“Now you’re just speaking nonsense,” you sigh. “I’m thinking of one full grape. Even the whole sandwich.” 

“All of the crumbs fall off the crust in the sandwich.” 

“That’s not- okay. You know, Anna- forget it. A swan is elegant when they have all the attention on them.” 

“I told you this!” Anna exclaims, squinting her eyes. “But you deserve all the attention, too! You can’t keep giving me everything. Let me do the same for you.” Her chin dips, a smirk forms. “How good you’d look with a collar- OOH. Even a rope around your neck.” 

“Anna-” you choke. Nothing would ever push you over the edge of a mineshaft unless it was pure sex talk. “God. Why do you even- for fuck’s sake, Anna. Holy shit-” 

She snorts. “Be a good lapdog and fuck me yourself.” 

Forget logic. Impatience triumphs common sense. You bolt across the dining area and press her to the fridge, ready to reign fire with your mouth- 

“Now now, sweetie,” says Anna who stops you with a finger to your lips and before you could put your tongue to good use. Her voice is firm, serious, looking you in the eyes through the heavy breaths. “You didn’t let me finish my snack.” 

Like a fucking musician, playing you as some instrument, controlling you like a servant pet. “Anna,” you rasp, graveled. “I swear- I’m gonna be insane if you don’t- Let. Me.” 

“Hush.” A dismissing command. “Do pets speak? Or do jesters play when they’re not asked to? Sit down, now.” 

You take a step back, defeated, shuddering. She’s managed to break you. This part of the script wasn’t in your hypothesis filed in the ‘mess hall scenario’. The fact that she could even act like this despite the lacking ability-

One push of her hand has you stumbling to the chair. Anna walks from the fridge, letting both straps of her dress fall from her shoulders, revealing her tits. She smiles, laughs at you to make the image less obscene (but not by much). “You look tense.” No fucking shit, you’re thinking, of course I look fucking tense. “Be my little songbird, honey. Sing all the sounds you want. I just want to have my fun before I ruin you.” 

You stare at her with a parted mouth. “Sure,” you say. Switching to another topic would be a viable option here. “Allow me to add,” and the hint of being a fearful avoidant rises with the sentence, “an idea I’ve been contemplating about you.” 

Anna opens another pack of fruit snacks. An impulse spikes deep in your consciousness; it papers over your cracking persona.  Having settled in the psychoanalysis of this exchange wouldn’t last another second without the urge to not think but do. “For one to bear such thoughts in this condition,” she tells you. “It intrigues me.”

“Like you, I have my limits when it’s relevant.” 

She mumbles the same sentence, probably in annoyance. “As if you weren’t the one in heat and wanted to get on me right away-” 

“You don’t have the warrant to make that accusation,” you grit. “I don’t break. Easily. “ 

“And yet you were,” she retorts and your expression matches against her relent. “Why would I care? This is me taking care of my needs, without your deliberation. Contemplating about what, exactly?” 

“A person- a person that I remember-” you stop short. Most conversations like these should be civilized. You are civilized beings having dinner - and the topic that usually returns to the table is often engaging. “It’s-” you breathe again, “with these fragmented memories, they just exist, right?” 

“Mhm,” grins Anna. “Hopefully it’s something steamy.” 

So, that washes away the nervousness even Anna has no idea about from earlier, but you add: “It was, and why I had- enjoyed that-” 

“My, are you shy from what we did?” asks Anna. “Is the brain reduced to mush during sex? Or how I grinded on your leg and cumming-” 

“I’m being serious. If I can’t hold myself back-” you smirk at the thought, “-okay. The whole point I’m trying to make is that while we do that, I realize that my past self was in love with another woman.” 

“Really?! Hell yeah! That’s good!” Anna exclaims, undeterred. “I hope they fucked, too.” 

“Definitely, and I think with those blips of memories is a chemical reaction waiting to happen. Because whoever I remember-” you wave your hand to your face, “-and I know her name, but it feels invasive from time to time, seeing these memories, and they’re starting to creep in while we fuck.” 

“Hang on,” Anna shakes her head, biting down a piece from the fruit pack. “Should I be upset by this?” 

“No- not really. You shouldn’t,” and you see Anna’s gaze soften. It’s sobering (for all the sexual tension built between the two of you) she doesn’t let it slide if she’s aware of a problem. You’ll provide the explanation: “That being said, I-” 

“-looked into my inner self and found a caveat,” she says. 

“And I wanted to forget about that past self, rather to be present, in this body, with you.” 

“I appreciate your concern. If it makes you feel better, I’m not mad at you for that. We’re just managing as we go. Rendering how complicated it may be.” 

“I feel the same,” you reply. “Believe me- it felt good. And you’re right, there’s a limit how much my body can take, and the sex is good and my previous clone is the same as me- so it makes sense; but at the same time, it isn’t entirely mine - to also add, when we talked about the Ship of Theseus, Anna, I know that look you’re giving. I wanted to hear your- thoughts.” 

“Yes,” Anna crumples up the foil in her hand, “We can go through your manual. Maybe run through the directives and experiment what you like?” 

You emit a deep breath, keeping composure - as in: you need her on your lap, bind your wrists together - not yet. “Going by the manual isn’t technically sex education. You’re not supposed to fuck your bionic companion,” you cough, clutching your chest. “Things like that are off the books and shouldn’t be addressed in the mission logs.” 

“Shit,” says Anna. She laughs at this (and, endearingly): “If there’s someone we know that was experienced at overlooking the black ink and redacted texts-” 

“Unprofessional- we’re unprofessional,” you dismiss with a smirk, to which Anna matches. “Prospective, actually. If I can get myself off from these memories, we can also toy with the idea of conducting you into the mix-” 

“-this is so hot coming from you-” 

Anna hears you out: “Like- it’s a recurring trial, each with a different result at the end. For every time we-” your jaw slightly drops and forms a wicked grin, “-when we continue to practice unsafe sex-” 

She puts her hands on your face, forcing you to look up. “Why is it you’re making this sound like it’s a one-off?” 

“Absolutely not,” you answer, a little too quickly. If anything: i’m helpless here, falling into an admiration i cannot seem to escape, you think - and having that in mind, you carry forward. “I- I can’t really be sure. I want you so bad that it’s fucking up my cognitive functions. Now- can you just finish your fucking food?!” 

“Safe to say you’re dying to have me. Push me on the counter with that cock of yours?” Anna tuts. “You can be a good puppy and wait. I know your body likes to suffer.” 

Having someone who understood you so well leaves you stripped cold. You’re not the kind to shiver, but the instinct persists. When the night falls, well- the period of your inner circadian rhythm which Anna claimed to be your ‘sleep cycle’ convinced you to call it like hers as ‘bedtime’ - another ritual you’ve attempted to grasp. There’s no reason to create a protocol in the Primrose where the temperature drops enough to suggest mending bodies together to produce warmth, but you have. 

(“I’ve always wanted to live in a burning planet,” Anna had said to you one time, shuddering next to you all thanks to your alterations, and even implementing seasons; dancing in the rain, and creating a makeshift nightstand so that the gentle radiance greets her sloping cheeks every morning - a gift that had always left her in tears at times.) 

To circle back: you want her, badly. Patience is running a thin line and all it takes is one hasty movement to unravel everything at once. With the benefit of hindsight, you often catch yourself in depreciation (spilling curses in a comical manner) over how the relationship with Anna would never change. Out of the many stories she shared with you, she claimed: “y’know i could never tell when other people were flirting at me” to which you chuckled at that, sitting together in the cockpit and doodling constellations - in all the things of friendship-wise. Who knows. You could’ve kissed her then along with countless other times after. 

Time doesn’t dwindle away into a black hole, but the uncertainty sucks the life out of you. Getting older was a guarantee; not just in your bodies, but in the aging metal around you. The Primrose’s missions are an odyssey of their own; so is challenging the antiquated sense of moralities every now and then. How dehumanizing, it must be for all the ‘what if’s’. In the end: you are you and the choices you make are almost calculated, even if Anna was old-fashioned with her arts and books and ideas to understand. 

(She asked another time: you know about Swan Lake by Tchaikovsky? Or the Shakespearian tale of Macbeth? And while watching the gray colored screen late into the night through a voice: “But now I am cabined, cribbed, confined, and bound into saucy doubts and fears.”) 

Anna slants her head - the conversation's gone dry again. “You blanked out,” she assesses. “Did you have another flash of memories just now?” 

To play into the question: yes, you did have memories of that past life, remembering her- and maybe it’s tragically romantic. “You finished. And we haven’t gotten to kissing yet. I wonder why.” 

“You and I are both messy. A pair of fucked up beings in this universe,” she supplies. Handing you the foil to toss away in the garbage bin behind you. “Luckily it’s something we can fix together.” 

“And you mean-” 

“Exactly what I mean. Come get me.” Anna commands, acting like you needed a trigger word to not jump on her for over an hour. It comes off as a surprise on her end that you do the opposite: walking over with a gentle push back into the fridge and kissing gently. There isn’t an explanation of the rush in lifting her up the metal with your neck in a figurative leash (a metaphoric tether, but it ties the connection down seamlessly), and she’s hot and light in your fingers, and there’s a reaction bubbling in your emotional cortex.

You kiss her without letting go. From your eyes it’s romantic; in Anna’s - it’s undetermined. Her skin heats up like the sun greets her eons ago. Her body shudders; riddled with goosebumps. 

“I like this. You. I like you. I love how fun this has become,” you admit, forehead to forehead. Anna smiles, softly; creasing skin in corners all over her face and eyes. More. Previous impulses course through your mind: her voice drenched with at the need of you on her bed, falling soon after and fucking on the floor the next. Her slick mouth working your cock to the back of her plush throat; touching, grasping, needing the sensation and warmth in each other, for something to hold once everything’s reduced to dust- 

Toyama is a long way from you two, a mere dot among the stars. Even if those who knew you, or knew of you could see what you have become, they would look with such judgement. What Anna had as baggage here has either been lost in the blanket of space or hidden with the many other regrets she carries. If this floating asylum is the only place where you could have mutiny. If her longing for home has equaled the distance. 

Anna kisses you; much, much more gently. You’re all soft lips and battered hearts. Suffice with another memory: the fear of intruding a sacred ground, letting love succumb you over with all its might, and how you’ve let it die at your hands. 

“Baby,” she coos. “Tell me what it is. What do you want?” 

Keep her hands on you; kiss me softly, then harder. “Pointless wants, they’re stupid- illogical. One word doesn’t get the point across. “I need your body against mine.” Artificial can’t match authenticity. “Make me go insane and have you feel the same way.” You’re a hopeless romantic. “Make love with me until our arms and legs are aching-” and once more, you hold back on confessing the truth. It hasn’t been that long since the first kiss, so this is a bit of a rush, going into things recklessly. 

But when has that ever stopped you from feeling so good about it? 

Intent and desire burns deep into your nerves and heart, flashes of your past life bends the perception of what’s real and what isn’t. The thrill of your body being lit on fire from artillery strikes or when you sank to the bottom of the ocean. There was also the time where there was a singular bullet in the chamber, and spinning around the old glock fueled more excitement once the barrel’s to the side of your head, waiting for the hollow, audible ‘click!’ when the gun didn’t go off. Nothing scared you that much and that was the empowering (or frightening) part you miss. 

(memory playback #8: Gawon runs ahead of you to an end where there’s no return and a crossroad that alters fate. She’s got a cigarette to her teeth and offers it between her fingers, gazing tenderly. You dance with her and the heart in your chest feels like it’s going to be pierced from your ribs. When you think about her, you fail to cry. The red ribbon around her neck is on your wrist and the scent of her hair is all but ash. 

memory playback #9: The grief you carry is unexpressed love, without a receiver. It leaves your body, like a flock of doves creating a constellation into the sunset, greeting the stars for her, searching for their lost companion they wish to love and cherish.) 

“I care a lot about you,” Anna rasps into your cheek. “I really do, believe me.” She understood your internal conflict, and perhaps it's this moment where you could finally make peace with it: letting Sooin and Gawon cuddling past the gate now shut in your head. In another life (that past life), your intimacy is the same as theirs, and the kind you’d want to keep close. You’re entranced into another slow dance with Anna, one without music, holding her in a tempo that’s a little too slow, locking lips again and again, and that would be more than enough. 

“Your happiness will always matter more to me than my own,” you tell her. Heresy in its true form, but you’re honest, and that isn’t made more obvious than embracing each other in the kitchen. Your hand sinks to her side. Risky. Some of her hair is covering her ear: even more risky. You want to keep charming her. 

She looks down to your fingers at her thigh, tensing and giving at the feel. “This is okay, right?” you ask, knowing very well there’s one answer you want to hear; longing (basically yearning) for Anna to say it. 

Anna nods in approval. “Mmm, I-” You can tell she wants more - more of you. Yet you play into the teasing. Surrendering isn’t the only way to get power, and pushing her buttons doesn’t always have to be the endgame. Her eyes dart from one end to the next, and the reactions are cute to see up close. She gets pulled closer at her own pace; a loose arm pressuring around her once you settle back on the chair and (finally, at long last) in your lap. Between the short asphyxiations, you know she’s ready, bestowing the responsibility back to you - aware of how this game is being played, and while she’s completely flustered and plastered pink on her face, she goes along with it: “Why don’t you tell me more?” 

“Show me more of those old western films you’ve been watching. Paint cute things all you want,” you answer. Right away, these are foolish things. “Cook those meals from home. Look up at the stars and fall face first into the planets that we explore.” Oh, you’ve got the saccharine plot all set up, but it widens the grin on her face while she’s dripping between her legs. 

This side of you is the most raw and inescapable version you’ve ever been, and Anna has had her fair share of going through these phases, and while you’re rattled in dread of being more explicitly, you perch on her ear: “and please, I want you to teach me more of these dances,” and you’re sure the answers will come as they go. 

“Dancing has a sensual approach to it,” says Anna, seeing through the facade. “Once you see past the veneer, the art transcends to a whole lot more.” This has you smiling like an idiot, and you can’t stop it from happening. The additional, and hilarious fact of you wanting to canvas her body more than what space has to offer - but she’s here on your lap and so close to your heart. The line of her collarbone, the small beauty marks sprinkled on her shoulder and chin and ear, her firm mounds; a small hint of her nipple peeking above the gown and the strap to her arm. 

“Anna,” you call out to her; her hand guides yours to her breast before she responds. Forces your fingers to clutch and grasp as she barely does anything to stay still. “Anna. Can- please. I know-” you’re pushing it, it’s driving you insane, circling her nipple and not even giving a pinch. 

“You don’t have to fucking ask,” she grits, but it’s mixed into her whimper. “I swear- I’m gonna have to toy with myself if you’re not going to do it for me-” 

Pinch. 

A press, pull, then a little flick. Soon your tongue will do the same. “Because you’d rather use your hands than mine? I guess my hand will have to do while you take care of that.” 

“Oh please. I can touch myself at the thought of you whenever I fucking want,” she groans, shivering when you have a hand to her shoulder keeping her in place. “You don’t even know about the time I laid on the table and fucked myself in the hopes of you seeing and taking care of my problem-” 

“Huh-” you drop the act, slightly. “When did you- what?” 

“What? No- I mean, I just grinded against the corner. And maybe the chair that you’re sitting on right now. Okay, look- I’m just- fuck! 

You laugh into her neck. “When did you even do it? And why’d you keep that from me?” 

“A while ago. Probably the first few cycles into our mission period. I even had it journaled in.” Anna beams. “Can you just fucking touch me already?!”

The inner curve of your thumb and finger moves up to the crease of her hip and leg, then her stomach, then the underside of her breasts, all the nooks where you can touch. “Do tell, Anna,” you propose, indulgent. “What was the appeal?” 

“That you’d drop to your knees and proclaim the same desperation you have for me,” she answers. “Use me like a toy, and just rail me on the table with a hand to my neck and-” a gasp once your thumb flicks her pretty little clit. “-you just fucked me senseless. God, I beg-” 

Your mouths are clashing again. There’s been too much of the talking and less of kissing. The both of you aren’t sure what you’re doing. A finesse of feeling her body, you assume. You also presume there’s an optimal route to explore her body - to hell with going by the book, you’ve no need for it. Anna wants to be touched; she likes to be touched. Her body is going to be pliant and soft and you’ll love nothing more than to lick the sweat of her waist and feel the friction get together - okay, stop fucking overcomplicating it. Worship your lover with all your might. The drunk pleasure will happen regardless. 

“Don’t- don’t,” Anna shoves a whine down your throat. “If you think about stopping, I’m going to make you crazy about me-” she begs, and her character finally breaks into impatience. She’s got two fingers deep in her cunt, fucking herself. 

“Look at me, honey-” she hisses, pathetically. “You’re only holding yourself back.” The next thing she does is lift the same hand from her legs, slipping those same two fingers into her mouth. 

–

Time waits for no one, not even you. 

Her hot lips laving yours enough to make you lose it even more. She doesn’t play nice (but she never played nice.) Anna’s face is difficult to read; is it control? rapture? ruin? or perhaps gratification? Too much to tell, and there’s a lot of ground to cover. A winner like her takes it all and the loser - unfortunately, has to fall and suffer. You have your directive, and there’s the added order of acting on whatever she bids you to do. Her puffy lips coat your cock delicately, tongue stroking the roof of your mouth as she lets her hips settle on the length. 

“How much do I have to do to make you- ugh!” She grits, grasping your neck soon after. Because the concept of power is somewhat new to her and she’s got her priorities straight. “Do me a favor: get the fuck on the table.” (You believed it at first of her not having the authority to rest it heavily on your head - but god, you’ve never been proven so wrong.) 

Her knees creak the wood once you’re laid on your back, peppering trails of spit from her waist down between her legs. Thank the creator for compensating; being able to respond to the wetness was one thing that couldn’t deliver in terms of granting you the five senses, but you make do. Anna’s leaning forward, bending. Most of her gown’s been discarded, revealing skin. Your optics can’t process all of the new pieces of information all at once- 

“I like where you are,” she hushes, the breath alone should’ve made you shiver. “Always willing to submit.” 

You’ve never wanted to breathe so desperately in your life. Feeling the weight of her hips crushing your face. 

What’s more rewarding than the skullfuck is the constant grazing of Anna’s cunt brushing against your lips. She’s rubbing her clit too, the poor needy thing. As much as you’d love to keep this going, to satisfy your own needs, there’s a bedside rule left unsaid: to return the same subservience. 

Anna’s so close to cumming. That, at least, until you bite her inner thigh. 

It’s met with: “Ah-!” And Anna’s body convulses, scowling into your eyes. Temporary. This is fun, and you know she doesn’t want to stop. 

“Satisifed?” You ask, eyes lidded. 

“Love, you- oh. You have no idea.” She’s starting to break. You notice she’s overly strung out on her own confidence; like you, she needs to have her buttons pushed. 

“Oh my god. You’ve wanted to do this on me for a while now, haven’t you?” 

Anna winces. “Maybe. Who’s to say?” 

“You and your fantasies. I love to see you try.” 

Her face falls flat, determined. She wonders on something for a moment, disregards the second thought and does it anyway: shoving her whole ass across your face and making you suffocate. Even better: her hand grips the edge, you brush your tongue deeper into her. The wood creaks and the servos in your jaw are trying to accommodate as her makeshift vibrator- “Anna,” you muffle, then the eyes go back to your head. “Mmmf-” 

“Yes, right there- that,” she groans. “God-” 

She lifts and you hold her thighs where they are. “You are something,” you praise. “How is that you’re this sexually precious?” 

“What about you? Is it too much?” 

“Nonsense,” you answer. Her being concerned is thoughtful. “You’re doing just fine. I mean- we did fuck on the floor the other time-” 

“And it won’t be the last,” she replies. “We finally have more use of our time now.” 

“Slow is steady,” you remind Anna. Unsaid words are carried through expressions. You’re too drunk on Anna’s essence seeping out her legs, so you’ll keep the talking to a minimum and kiss her (other) lips. 

“Baby, baby, baby, oh my-” Next her hands dig into your scalp, and judging from the reaction alone it’s only stimulating her mind more, slipping out words and each utterance more incoherent than the last. 

Nothing could stop your tracing tongue dancing on her cunt, switching the flick at the slightest pitch change. The mission hasn’t changed. It’s always been the same since the beginning, only now where you and her have come to realize that to truly survive- 

You both need each other. 

Sensory inputs are overloaded with data: at the graze of your nose to her clit, the nibble of her inner leg, the shimmy of her hips and once she’s had enough, you force her to take more. A tap of her clit when she lets you breathe. Another one earns a whimper. She’s a molten mess in your hands. 

She grabs your cock and it throbs. “Tease,” she groans with her head back, biting her bottom lip. You want to test the limits of how much she can handle; where she can keep her head leveled before losing it completely. Once again: she shudders, swiveling your length, and you look up earnestly with your mouth to her folds. Any more forms of contact could legitimately kill her (and there’s another directive to unpack for that matter), suck her dry before she even has the chance to recover. How you could give her that dream of railing her on the table, but you’ll hold back. Anna’s legs shudder when your breath meets her cunt. 

“Anna,” you say, and it’s wonderful to say her name while being under, “just let me- relax, babygirl. Give yourself to me. I promise to take care of you.” 

You’ve got the intent down to a ‘T’. It’s just you: this model, her lover, her toy. She doesn’t even let you off once she’s moved down to your hips, her hot cunt just within reach of your tip. Which was safe to say: she couldn’t wait or take it anymore. When the thick tip pushes her folds, her body shakes; the expressions are amazing. You want to see more of them. 

The pleasure is sharp enough for you to sit upright and in the present. You kiss her, kiss her head, shove your hand deep into her scalp so your mouths stay touched. Her fingers corral your neck, your back - you can do better than that - tensing the line in your bodies to an unknown measure, something that can be learned errorlessly. “Hey,” you shudder, filling the whole length inside her. She doesn’t move. You’ve got your hands to her hips and take up the gaps in her mind; makes her gasp. 

“My good girl too fucked out? Need me to get you going since you almost came?” 

Her head tilts, she’s cock-drunk. Perfection. 

“It’s you,” cupping your head, “this pretty face, and this fucking cock-” she sputters, the grip getting tighter motion picking up in waves. “Please, fuck me. I beg- I’m fucking ordering-” 

She knows you can’t be hurt, and only one of you is going to be sore. 

“Shh, I know hun,” you coo, hoisting her hips up and yanking them back down with a little more force. You have no regard for the things around you: the wood creaks against the metal flooring; Anna knocks over a cup off the tabletop; your hips thrust upward into her heat. It’s gotten you both delirious. You’re sitting up, licking the beads of sweat off her breast; brush your cock where her cunt’s the hottest. 

You know so much but also so little. There’s a nibble here, you might’ve sucked her nipple a little too hard, don’t give her time to breathe as she rides you, and she’s smiling through it. Granted, neither of you are inexperienced with this whole concept of fucking, but there’s so much to learn regardless; there’s you: split between memories and the remorse of a body that was never your own; her, and her intimate experiences in the past she’s never breathed a word about. If anything, the closest you’ve ever approached the topic was one of those conversations where time seems to stand still in the vastness of space - answering the question about her past and all of the events before with ‘look, I had nothing else to lose, so why stick around when there’s nowhere else to go or turn to?’ 

Even now, there’s a covered painting in this room Anna does while she eats. She never gives you a straight answer about it, and there really isn’t anything you could do to make her budge and open up, but that’s fine. The tension in the air is thick and heavy just like her body as she grinds her hips to yours, and she could be setting aside her emotional baggage to never be spoken about again. 

Anna’s face buries into your neck, fingers clenching into your hair. Her pussy is tethered to your cock and each slam down is another pull of reality bringing you back. You could just draw it to simply losing your being to the person you love. 

“So deep. It’s so, so deep,” she moans, and you focus on her voice as it makes you remember where you are. You grip her ass the same way hers did around your neck - an unspoken message to share on what feels good and where to keep her keening. Communication here can be fallible: you’re mindful that Anna never answers the questions truthfully or ignores you, and how her past could never be addressed in the corners of darkness; you’re aware that saying nothing oppresses your free will; despite this, it’s just how things are between you and Anna. 

But maybe you should focus on this plane of existence. Anna has both the beauty and flaws and the big plus is (you also have your own faults) that you can’t help being in love but feign from the admission. Your skin doesn’t bruise as easily compared to hers, as well as respond to toxic environments since you can’t feel pain. Thanks to her, you’ve learned the aspect of pleasure while stimulating your own learning synapses; with your thumbs to the crease on her legs, keeping her there, flexing your cock deep inside to her walls and focus on her lips clashing to yours. She’s a slick and gushing mess. 

You also recall an instance where Anna put a book down and said: “for erotica, why are they doing so much into detailing the feeling of one’s cock inside their lover?” Then she stemmed it off into saying a cock isn’t the only appeal for a woman’s pleasure and all of a sudden you don’t recall much. 

The bruises across her legs are starting to bloom in reddish-pink. More decorations to deviate from the usual purple you’ve seen on her that suit her state more or less. She’s leaking on your artificial shaft, insistent for all of it. It earns her another deep thrust upward, a few bites to her neck, hot breaths into her mouth: these things you want to leave as many as you possibly can so that they serve as reminders of an intoxicating poison she’s taken whenever she’s bathing or doing the little makeup. What would be even better: if she got herself off to ease her mind off of this. 

It hasn’t even been that long; probably a few weeks since she asked you to dance. Yet the both of you have been forever changed. Who knows what will become of you when this comes to pass: something new - or whole, even. You can be adamant about where you kiss her; you’ll also learn her preferred fragrance, and kiss more of those bitten lips. She might teach you new things: like how to braid her hair, come up with a theory to create a body that can withstand time - and it could be drawn up as a failure, but everyone has their end, right? When you and her cease to exist, this spacecraft will live on possibly through someone else. 

Anna’s cunt clenches around your cock. Her tight little hole is the only stimulus keeping you focused. She moans, a little erratically. Keeping your head leveled may be easy, but you don’t fight her clawing hands. You’ve felt like this before, and the memories of that form in waves, encroaching the imaginary sand around the island, but it’s yours to share, and you’re going to sink beautifully. 

“Louder,” you say. “Moan for me louder, sweetheart.” 

She angles your chin up, devilishly grinning. “Try me,” is where she settles with. 

You lift and meet her in the middle with a heavy upstroke. There’s tears seeping from the corner of her eyes - like paint being rubbed down on a palate. She’ll commend her own effort, but there’s the fleeting restraint of ruining her more when she says so. 

You fuck her harder once her legs wrap around your hips, incessantly begging. Her moans are mixed with whimpers and whines and you could feel your head go hazy. There’s a memory you recall where the sky flashes white from blue and the world was never the same after that. Your memories of love and yearning are here; pure and impure in ways that make up your existence. 

Stiffening and sweating both have their characteristics, those where they grow all the same. It’s preposterous that fucking her would be an experience- let alone, how you’d be wanting to have these feelings again and again within these confines of this home away from home. Anna was always complicated, but you’ve dealt with it. 

She mewls into your neck and it's a sound you’re familiar with. “Let me hear you,” you offer, a last gasp for restraint. If her hand were a rope, she knew you’d jump at the first opportunity to tie yourself to it like a collar. Your fragmented self would only thrive with these memories, and not wither down to a selfish being hidden underneath your skin. 

I hope my life will matter to you someday, you remember telling her the first few weeks on this expedition - a mere fantasy to delude yourself that she could, but it’s never been more true. 

Anna whines when the head of your cock brushes right to her womb. Her fingers claw the polyethylene on your collar, wincing. It’s still a beautiful sight to behold. 

(memory playback #10: the spray paint in your hand is tossed from a bombed out wall: “you may forget but let me tell you this: someone in some future time will think of us,” a mantra that speaks high of the future, what might come after death - and you share a kiss, another prayer for what higher being may be observing with the stars, and there’s another kiss, then another, then another, then-) 

Your tongue slips out of Anna’s mouth, and the kiss ends. She can taste herself - off of you, with those plush lips, how easy it can really be to fall into her heart. Her toffee eyes are just eyes, but they see you as you are. It’s daunting to be known, how frightening it is to be accepted, alone. You’ve seen terrors before, and so has she. Through it all, it’s love that can transcend for those who can no longer speak. 

It’s a funny thing, really. 

Maybe one day you’ll watch her fall off the ramp and you’ll run after her on a beach with two sunsets. Make love to her on the sand and learn a little more about her then and there. Simple things like loving her can bring ease; free from all pain, guilt, and shame. There’s no point in thinking twice. 

Despite this, Anna tells you to, “please keep fucking me,” and you do. There’s a more dignified approach into how you’ll have sex with her; ideally, a fashion that doesn’t nearly kill her. You’ve memorized every corner and crevice of her body in a short amount of time. It's like a second reflex. Pumping her full of your cock she has to sit up straight by your hand as her limbs try to tangle around where she can cling. 

“Gonna cum?” You ask, slowing the pace. 

Anna’s face pulls another wince, then relaxes. “You’re-” and she’s laughing through it, settling on your shaft. “You’re going to fucking kill me, maybe,” leaning into shoulder. “I’ve made you cum, so it should be similar, we just have to try-” 

You lean forward and lay her back, piercing her womb. She didn’t want you to take it easy - this is what she wants, but the sex was always a form of strategy and compromise. Her cunt makes this unholy noise, and she’s gushing more by the second. Anna gets too ahead of herself, too fast, and she bucks in reflex while your cock slips out and she’s squirting into your hips. You grab your length and wriggle it back on her folds, there’s more. She’s a dripping, leaking mess and her legs are shaking. 

“Anna, god. Anna, oh my god-” you gasp. She’s blabbering nonsense, biting into her wrist, spazzing out from the pleasure. Those marks on her arm will be there for a while, and you’ll have to treat those accordingly once all of this is finished. You’ll always submit to the aftercare even if you resign from doing it initially; for no reason - which may be a different case - but it doesn’t stop you from saying: “Oh, my sweet thing. Cum for me. Slut.” Love in this sense can be ferocious. She can’t even breathe with you pilfering her mouth and cunt at the same time. 

She mutters your name down your throat, voiced in a way so elegantly that it's like she’s singing in appraisal: cumming over your cock. Her teeth clack against yours and she screams, choking as you hold her down by the neck. For how brutish you may be, it’s justified to how much she’s loving this version of you. You would love to hold her up by the waist and fuck her to the brim on this table; exhaustion isn’t a concept that’s applied to you, but your alternating thrusts from slow to fast makes it all worthwhile. Yet pain is a human feeling and your hips actually hurt and you’re panting and the wrongdoing washes down like a waterfall it hurts-

“Please, please, please-” she pleads, weeping. “Don’t- wait, okay. We need to- I can’t go on like this-” 

So you comply once the thrusts have been made. Once the cum settles deep inside her, the romance lingers: you’re cradling her in comfort (unlike those times where life hung on a thread; the many what-ifs), sliding your cock out and seeing a glisten of white seep out of her opening, where she’s warm and you want to keep her that way. 

It’s also easy to stay close to her, and never let her go. Easy to be attentive and be accepting of her like she is with you. And it dawns, cruelly: she’s all you have left and- you’ve let it pass. Weathering that in your mind helps you stand stall against the tide. 

Anna’s lip wobbles, “Slut. You said ‘slut’ to me.” She hasn’t stopped; seen with a hand to her chest and the other between her legs. “What have you done-” 

“Did you like it?” 

“I did.” She says while struggling to get up. “In the moment it was-” and the sigh she makes is hellishly pleasing, the devil would be proud. Oh fuck, she mouths repeatedly, pressing her hand to her thighs. “You’re so good.” 

“Glad it was- enjoyable,” you say, helping her up and she’s still close to you. Kissing your neck softly. And it connects: exhaustion. You’ve had sex with Anna more frequently in the past few hours since you’ve started dancing, and it’s been a while since you two have relaxed. Utensils have fallen to the floor, there’s a print of sweat on the table from her back and shoulders; her knees a bruised (again), you don’t recall smacking her ass, and the fucking marks-

Anna kisses you again and holds her side, smacking her lips. “I need water,” she pouts. 

You thumb one of her bruises. “I can get you a cup if you’d like.” 

She meets your eyes, dreamily blinks. Even with her messy hair and blushed skin it doesn't set in on how you and Anna fucked on the table in the dining quarters. You help her down and give her a cup, seeing the water stream down calmly. She looks at the liquid, contemplating. And you realize sex has that effect indeed. 

“We need to have more control,” Anna concludes. “This can be a serious problem.” 

“The sex of the mess?" 

“You wanted me so bad that I can barely walk,” she tells you, trembling so much you swoop in and help her up. “This needs to be addressed later. And we have to make ground rules. Because if not, I’m going to end up dead and you’re gonna fuck a dead corpse-” 

She hears you sigh and chuckle, stopping her train of thought. “Before we can acknowledge the other issues, there’s cleaning up and walking back to bed. The list goes on if you want me to continue.” 

“I should have you carry me,” says Anna. “Folded me up akimbo and so pretzel-like. My bones are mush. My brain is mush. I’m gonna have an osteo condition now thanks to you-” 

Executive decision: “Let’s get you to bed, honey.” 

You swoop Anna off her feet. A closer look at her features: the fluttering lashes and small blush she applies when she can make you stare a little longer at her than she liked - considering how it’s a smeared mess and perhaps you did fuck a little too much. Appealing as it is, you like her pampered more than the latter. 

“You are okay, yes?” It’s worth the curious inquiry. 

“Aside from paralyzed from the waist down,” she jokes, “I guess you can say that I’m in good shape.” 

“The offer still stands for treatment, ma’am. A suggestion, after all.” 

“I am okay. Thank you for asking,” she smiles brightly at you. “Sweaty, messy. The usual deal. Also you came in me. Twice.” 

“We should be more mindful next time,” you say, laying her back on the bed. After all the attempts from earlier, you’ve finally made it. It’s a small win to log in your books. Definitely worth taking. 

“Hey,” Anna grabs your wrist, unwilling to let you leave. “You know: we just fucked.” 

“Mind I add more than once, too?” 

Anna purses her lips. “And you feel, okay?” 

You ponder for a second. “Exhilirating, aside from being messy and such.” 

“Me too. Not to mention sore-” 

“Yep. Even the sore part.” 

“God I feel amazing,” Anna huffs. “How long should I wait before we try it again?” 

“You’re just asking for another go at me, really? Whatever happened to resting, Anna.” 

Anna laughs, slapping your arm. “Could’ve just taken me to the shower, silly. Grab my washcloth and run it through some water. That’ll do for now.” 

–

(There’s an afterglow this time around - different from the other times you’ve seen it up close. A calming presence, a little more sensual. And it tugs at your core when you reach the bathroom, keeping the door ajar so she can see you in her peripheral. The washcloth goes warm in your hands - per her request - and the door closes back to her room. 

It’ll never be the same from this point on, and it’s something you’ve settled with.) 

–

Anna calls you over once she’s recovered, coming out of the bathroom not long after. She slips out of her bath towel, and this is the second time you’ve seen her naked. “You’re not going back to your pod, right?” 

“You propose that we are-” and your hands are out to divide the syllables: “sl-eep-ing to-ge-ther.” 

“Precisely. Do you want to sleep together?” 

“Follow up question: can we sleep together?” 

You freeze. “Something I believe we can try.” 

“I agree,” Anna concedes. “Now that I think about it, fucking on the bed would’ve been a lot more comfy.” 

“Anna, apologies.” You kneel at her feet before the bed. How badly you can crumble at the touch of her hand to your chin. “Promise that we shouldn’t be as rash.” 

Anna shakes it off. “Good fucking luck to us. We were always rash to begin with.” 

“Change can occur at any time.” 

“Customarily, sex has its own ecosystem,” she says, drying the ends of her hair. “When we’re done, we should have all the spots covered in the ship where we haven’t like ‘habitually fucked’ in the next couple cycles.” 

“You’re asking for a deathwish if you’re wondering if we fuck in the decompression chamber.” And Anna shares a smile. “Maybe somewhere we can easily relax and don’t have to move as much.” 

“The cockpit?” she sighs. “Romantic. But- I suppose that would be nice.” 

“Mhm?” 

“Yeah.” Anna replies, kissing your shoulder. “For the record: you’d make a fantastic lover. Date worthy.” 

While your reaction might be off-putting and bewildered, it’s easy to conclude that you’re blushing over the compliment. Then past the wave of happiness is despair, and here you’ve learned that the emotions boil over to something more solemn, regretful. You sniffle. That in itself is foreign to you, balling your hands into fists and not meeting her eyes. You actually go quiet. 

Anna leans over with concern. “Hey- did I mean to make you confused?” 

“I’m not even sure myself,” you answer looking over. 

“How do you feel right now?” 

“Can’t put it to one thing. Reminiscing for no reason- mourning as the other thing, I-” you cough, pinching your forehead. “I shouldn’t be regretful- okay. Anna, can we-” 

She doesn’t let you finish and tugs you over further to her bed. A few moments pass with you two figuring out the small arrangement. But then you see the inside of her bunk more and notice the new details about her: a sakura flower drawn to remind her of home, the faded polaroid of her first day in the academy. 

“You’re surprisingly warm,” says Anna while nestling to your side. “As if you’ve done this before.” 

“I’ve learned a few thing or two.” 

Anna hums, unconvinced. “Is that so?” 

You kiss her hairline, pull her closer. Safe to assume that she’s comfortable. Her arm goes across to your left. You breathe in relief. “Would be lying if I said I didn’t practice,” you answer. “Emotions are one thing; though, if it weren’t the movies we watched together. I would be lacking in the intimacy category.” 

“You’re already exceeding my expectations,” Anna ends off with. “I knew you’d like those movies.” 

–

Later, she switches the lights off. Well aware of what you want to keep sacred. You’re her saving grace, a blessing she’d never expect to have. 

When you two kiss again, it feels deep into the shrouded darkness. 

–

(memory playback #11: When you meet Gawon for the first time, you’re treating a wound to your stomach and have become numb to the medicine spray. Somewhere in a city of Aurelia you kiss her through a rusted blackbox recorder; look up from the wreckage and mark your love with bombs and paint before the waters get too tepid just on the surface. Maybe the roots will grow deep through the water, and you think a slit throat would be the solution for your pierced heart- 

final playback: “I love you too. I hope you know that,” you say. Holding each other’s face dear in the chaos of war. Her trauma is equal as yours and it’ll burn you two up like the rest of the world-) 

–

You learn again: 

Anna’s quarters (along with her bed) is in complete disarray. She’s got the blankets covering the vents; her pillows are smushed into a heap and there’s so many things here that are out of place in the ship. In her case, she never really understood the sleep subroutines you deal with. Despite how smart she is studying astrodynamics, it does not show in engineering. All the more reason to write little post-it notes everywhere on the ship to keep her from not fucking things up.

In the end: it’s really cute.

You place an unfinished canvas on the easel, she hugs you from behind. 

There’s a simplicity to this. 

“I love the whole idea of you,” she says, pulling your chin to her. “My cute big owl, hm?” 

“Take it that you’re okay?” 

“Dear, I’m fucking sore.” Anna groans, begrudgingly. “Blame my own arrogance that we won’t be able to do it again for a few days.” 

“Pushed your luck and see what happened? How many orgasms did you have?” 

“You made me cum four times,” she counts on her fingers. “I made you cum half of those times. But seriously. We need to have an intervention about those dreams of yours. They’re wickedly fucked up.” 

To that, you smile. Actually, you laugh. It’s not in your code to elicit such a reaction, and the leniency needs to be reviewed. You’ve kept your guard up, but Anna has managed to melt you down to a puddle of metal. Change isn’t instantaneous - let today be the nexus of a psychoanalysis that may take days- week- or even months to figure out. A relationship doesn’t happen like the big bang, obviously, but it’s good to have a theory about it. 

“What else did you see?” You ask. “How fucked up were they?” 

“Someone that’s obsessed,” she answers. Finger to her lip. “Issues and things that we need practice on. That’s what I think.” 

You square shoulders, crossing arms. “Elaborate.” 

“Imagine a parallel world. Where everything is perfect, and we wouldn’t have any baggage to carry, sharing the simple life that we’ve dreamed of having. With the best part being the fact that it never ends.” 

It’s worth imagining. “Right,” you say. “Our reality isn’t like that, sadly.” 

Anna rolls her eyes, slumping her back. “Ugh, I had a feeling you were gonna say that.” Humbling, for one, yet she flashes a smile nonetheless. “Everyone’s always told me that I dream too much. Dream, dream, dream. Never wondering about the ‘knowns’ of our world. Makes me feel stuck.” 

“You can dream with me,” you reassure. ‘that’s one of the reasons why I’m in love with you.’ “I admire these aspirations.” 

She hugs you, yawning. “Okay,” she hums. “Promise me you’ll watch?” 

And you’ll keep this star closer with the cosmos. 

///

here i have winter. as of right now there is a solo fic draft of her that is cooking very (and i mean: very) slowly. her character is stemmed off the giselle fic here; where she's: 1.) quick witted with a remark, sassy, and very intelligent. 2.) confident (as fuck. we just haven't seen it yet), and 3.) a girl that is unapologetically herself. having known that, this is an excerpt for everyone to see:

in my head, winter in this draft still has the same characteristics attached to her that were glossed over originally (informative, perceptive, notices the little things, no bullshit deal and says how they are, etc..) but the direction is in a slight curveball when she's romantically interested in someone who will eventually turn their back on them (spoilers? oh well.). based on these loose aspects, the plot kinda forms in between the interactions she has with not just the reader, but the characters around them too. i've cemented winter to a specific mold in my head, considering she's a complete package deal in both the plot, writing style, and maximum brain hemmoraging. planning the plot/premise around her like this doesn't leave my head for a freaking second, and the usual method i like to try (even though it fails) is remembering whatever the hell i daydreamed about with her in my personal schedule. the second (and correct) method is jotting down little notes and details or headcannons that fit with the specific idol in particular. most of the doc is just a sentence or two but important pieces of the puzzle if you know where to take the story. that being said, it's finding a balance between how you want the dynamic to be in the dialogue, the pretty features on her face, what she does in a situational circumstance, the list goes on. if you think winter is a yapper, have her yap. if you think winter is a glorified semen demon that won't stop at nothing until you're completely drained, goon tf out.

gosh i sound like caps now that i'm reading this back :yapp: always around for your insight about these (such sweet) stories. :P

The heat beams down, adding to the unwellness present with the pool of blood around your feet. Though, it’s been like this since you were young, having grown with surroundings and refined with experience. Like your mother - queen of higher beings, ruler of all - has shown you the landscapes of these battles, to watch with such vigor, internalize the scent, how their limbs were mangled. In time, you’ll be no stranger to such wrath. 

It’s only natural, however. You can only hold so much back to admit you adore this. 

You kneel down to a deceased from the North, their blood dried up on their skin when a yell is heard further down the battlefield. Perching up, a silhouette is seen in the distance; hair fairly short and shaded, skin riddled with dirt and blood too. When you walk near them, their posture is hunched, leaving you perplexed. 

The girl becomes frightened when you ghost her shoulder. Up close, her features are fair: sharp, cat-like eyes and a pert mouth. Tears are seeping at the corners. Despite this, she’s quite beautiful. 

“Why weep?” You ask. She looks up and blinks, composing. “I don’t see why you spill tears over-” 

“I don’t know,” the girl answers, “I just found myself here and there’s nothing but-” 

“Bodies,” you shrug and she winces. Despite the obvious being stated, you’re left curious about her choice of words: “Wait. How did you get here?” 

“I’m not sure. I can’t remember where I was before- this. And then-” 

Oddly, your mother has told this tale a long time ago: how the manifestation of gods could occur both in conception or by some miraculous circumstance; the only explanation- actually, was simply without grievance. 

She’s the same as you. Born out of blood. Out of war. 

You take her hands and lean in closely. “We’re not safe here,” you say. “My mother may have the answers to all your questions. I can assure you that.” 

“Mother?” The girl repeats quizzically. 

“Above heaven and earth,” you praise, like it’s branded into your mind. “Jihyo. Lord of all gods.” 

“Jihyo.” The girl’s gaze lights up, wistful. Unsure of the name at first, but she remembers, rising. Before you speak about anything else, your name passes your lips. It’s peculiar how this girl didn’t exist minutes ago, despite appearing in a similar age as you. 

Peculiar could be one word to describe it - strange as another while you say: “I’m not a God. Not yet, I think, but this would be my territory.” 

“Yeji,” she replies, brows cinched. “If we’re on this- ruined land, then maybe we’re gods of war?” 

“Only one way to know for sure,” you say while you pull Yeji across the field. Your fingers curl around hers; and there’s the slight pressure from them, too. 

A faint idea sprouts in the back of your head: claiming Yeji to be yours.

–

Since you were little, Jihyo was seen to be gentle; as someone with a bright smile - beneath all of that is a pressure that demands respect, carrying authority. Her power is so raw, there’s a hint of lighting - flickering deep in her eyes. Yeji’s stricken look on her face is a justifiable one when you and her meet away from the chaos. 

“Want to tell me who’s the girl?” Jihyo questions with a finger to your direction. Yeji, shields herself behind, with you unfazed in the front. 

You and Jihyo have a staredown - a brief test to see who yields first. “This is Yeji,” you announce. “Are you fine with me taking care of her, mother?” 

“I’ll consider it,” muses Jihyo, tilting her chin up. “If you explain what’s the meaning of this?” 

“I found her lost in the landscape. When I asked her, she told me that she just appeared there.” You say, seeing Yeji scoot further and further past your arm. “Makes me think she’s the same as us.” 

“Maybe.” Jihyo tilts her head to get a better look, motioning her hand for Yeji to walk forward. “Here, my darling. Don’t be afraid.” 

Yeji acknowledges, her eyes tired to the ground. She looks back and you nod in assurance, taking another step forward in front of your mother. Jihyo rubs her thumb over the bridge of her nose. Yeji then inhales sharply, causing Jihyo to smile in approval. “By the Gods. The energy budding within her is similar to ours. Fascinating.” 

You smile, astonished. “In what way?” Watching as Jihyo smiles down at Yeji, shifting it over to you now. 

“She’s the same as you, a god like us.” 

Born out of blood, out of war. 

Your face is filled with excitement. “I have ideas for her, if that’s okay.” 

Jihyo palms Yeji’s face, standing up soon after. She grabs your hand and hers, pulling them from the battle, the odor still prominent from the long hours. “She’ll stay with us, don’t worry.” Jihyo tells you. “As for your requests, we’ll save those for a future discussion.” 

–

Yeji recites the Covenant three days later. 

Following the ceremony, she jumps into Jihyo’s arms, high on spirits. “I want to do more.” 

“I’m not understanding,” chuckles Jihyo, combing Yeji’s hair and taps her back. “What do you mean by more?” 

“When they said infinity.” 

“Are you aware of what the commitment is?”

“Lady Yuna pulled me aside earlier and shared the proposition,” Yeji explains, slightly sulking. Her palms clap together like a prayer. “Oh Goddess Jihyo. Please. Please, let me-” 

You can only stand and watch her beg to your mother, vision turning foggy. Anger boils in your veins; brain clouded with resentment. 

Only a few goddesses have sworn to partake in the Covenant. The meaning - still foreign to your ideals, but it’s one that’s against intimacy, connections, and love. Jeongyeon was one who came to mind - taking the oath; recalling the time after a date with death you refuse to believe is true coming from her. 

“Think of it as insurance,” Jihyo said to you as she coaxed you to sleep on her lap. “A reminder of what we must do. To stay focused. To have no distractions.” 

(Part of you wants to be against it. You could be the one- you are the one for her. You could give her everything she ever desired, but it’s daunting for her not to know-) 

“You can,” says Jihyo, burying her nose into her hair, cupping her face soon after. “I can grant your long-awaited wish.” 

“Yes.” 

“If you’re willing to accept the responsibilities.” 

“Which I do.” 

“Very well then.” Jihyo’s voice booms, and the audience erupts. Yeji tightly hugs Jihyo while you stand frozen. Just to be prompted for a reaction by Lia tapping your shoulder. She looks confused when you lock eyes with her, filled with a growing rage. 

You start to walk away, Yeji noticing you disappear into the sea of people in the grand hall. Feeling a chill run down her spine. 

She doesn’t see you storming past the door. Nor the bundle of tears welled up, either. 

–

Wreathed in sparkling gold, Yeji bows at Jihyo’s feet. Hands stacked across her chest, looking up dutifully, waiting for the gifts. Yuna, tends to the fireside, sprinkling incense into the flames. Jihyo lifts her hand, tells Yeji to rise. “Why are we here, Yeji?” 

“To accept the offering. The promise of infinity, my queen. Ruler of the divine, overseer or all.” 

“And you pledge to take this covenant for the rest of your life? For the good of our kind, until time reaches an end?” 

“I do,” Yeji says. Temptation alone could never withstand her willingness. “I accept these conditions.” 

“Do you also intend to accept the damnation of your existence from this world, if this oath is broken or defied for any reason?” 

No one ever mentions this because very few have been exiled from the empire. The sentence: plunge into the depths of Tartarus and make the tormenting climb back up. That, and crossing the River Styx while your skin is melting off your body. You like to believe that those who met that end died peacefully. You also can’t help wonder what being one would become if they’ve suffered through it all - what monster they might become, and Yeji’s pale expression would be evident of that. 

“Yes. I accept.” 

“By the powers and through higher beings, “Jihyo declares. “I hereby ascend your purpose to the institution. Arise, Yeji. For you are reborn.” 

An overwhelming pressure floods the room, the shrine behind Jihyo bursting brightly with fire. Which only meant one thing: the coronation had been successful. Yeji takes the chalice given to her with two hands, sipping the blessed wine. Everyone in the room applauds to congratulate her, slightly embarrassed through it all. Jihyo brings her in for a hug, embracing the milestone. “My child, I could not be even happier for you.” 

“I’m blessed to have you by my side,” replies Yeji. 

She twists to the crowd, scanning for you. You stand behind Lia and Nayeon, grasping your right first. Seeing your eyes filled with rage, Yeji slowly looks back at your mother, uncomfortable. 

You haven’t faced much loss- not yet, at least. But this would be the first time in your life you’ve ever envied someone for a legitimate reason. Nayeon tries to get your attention, and you’re reluctant. Silently damning everyone in the hall to hell if they ever got to Yeji first. 

If you must suffer, so shall they. 

–

Time waits for nobody; and the growth highlighted on Yeji’s features have become apparent. Her hair is much shorter than when she was little, well-toned and figuratively sculpted by Aphrodite herself. Adored by her sisters, worshiped by all. As for you, you’ve grown as well, more weather, and frame are accustomed to the demands of your duties. 

Most people won’t admit to your face: how the beaming eyes have too much life in them, a demeanor too aggressive - where the thirst for something bigger is unquenchable. You can blame the drive for action, the rush of adrenaline accrued by risks. 

You’re the God of War. Yeji was adorned in virtue in contrast to your immorality. She was idolized in goodness opposed to people mouthing you for iniquity, threatening to take a life for your own benefit. 

Despite this, it’s impossible for one factor to succeed without its counterpart. No battles aren’t won without a motive; no strength without grit, and someone left standing to victor the spoils. 

Yeji is the other half of your soul. The one to complete your existence. 

–

She stands in the open field, aiming a bow down range. You’re observing her draw back, ready to fire. Ryujin stands next to her in training. 

You carefully watch her side profile, the corner of her mouth pulled way further than usual, earnestly speaking in moderation. Ryujin pauses every now and then to see if Yeji’s listening, but you’d like the idea of her not acknowledging her presence to be enough already.

A trailing hand grazes the rack of bows, taking one from the wall. Examining the feel, shouldering a quiver and walking over to the open windows. Then, you’re back where you were, mirroring the same movement as Yeji, waiting for the wind to ease in the direction. 

Ryujin’s caught in the crossfire, too. Oh well. 

You pause, pull the arrow back, releasing your fingers. The target’s hit, but not without breezing over Ryujin’s head in the process. Her head ducks down, immediately swivels back. 

“Hey! Has Medusa looked at you today, you blockhead?!” She exclaims, covering her head and seeing if there was any loss of blood. No surprise from you seeing her pissed. “Watch where you’re shooting?!” 

“Must’ve been the dust,” you deadpan. “I was totally aiming for your head.” 

“Bitch-” 

“Ryujin, it’s okay.” Yeji interrupts. 

Ryujin flashes a look, displeased. Before she could refute, Yeji lifts her hand to calm her. You see Ryujin balling her fist, sighing and walking away, hitting your arm in passing. She gives you a dirty look before moving on. 

You hold the bow and arrow proudly, like you’ve returned from an animal hunt. Smiling. 

“Don’t know what you’re trying to achieve, but that was stupid,” says Yeji. 

“Was it?” You laugh dryly. Watching her draw her bow again for another shot, hits dead center. “Hello to you, too.” 

Yeji squints at the target, unimpressed. “You don’t practice shooting usually.” 

“Sometimes change is good.” 

“What’s there to change if your specialty is fighting?”

You cross your arms. “So. You and Ryujin, huh?” 

“No comment.” 

“Do you always have this attitude?” You ask, admonished. “For someone painted as a queen-” 

Yeji swivels her head back, releasing the notch. She misses the target, and ends up hitting yours. “May I remind you of almost taking off Ryujin’s head a minute prior?”

“Still got heart, don’t ya?” You scowl. 

Yeji scoffs in reply. “You idiot.” 

She takes aim again, honing her breath and when the wind dies down from the momentary rush. Letting go, and it’s back to hitting the center. It’s the same for the next shot. For the following two, they start to deviate from the rest of the arrows. Much to one of them tagging another arrow and hitting the edge. 

You lean your head closer, sensing the pressure getting to her. “Rushing your shots isn’t helping, dear. Ever thought of taking your time?” 

“Maybe I will listen to your advice.” 

“How so?” 

“If I take my time like you did with Ryujin, I’ll get the bullseye again.” 

Scoffing, you move behind her. The proximity is close - and you’re not even touching her - but you smirk at the smallest tense of muscle in her body, hovering your mouth to her shoulder. “Just relax for me, okay?” 

“I’m fine. Believe me, I am.” Yeji assures. 

“Which also irks me, how you’re faltering. You’re not one to miss these shots.” 

“I’m just distracted,” Yeji says, shrugging you off and readying her bow once more. “You’re breaking my concentration.” 

She becomes startled when she fires another arrow way off target, attention now on your arm to her waist. You laugh, helping Yeji bring her bow back up, steadying. “Seems like you could use a hand.” 

Yeji tenses. “Trust me, I’m fine. I’m-” 

You shush her, point down to the target. “Here, I’ll do this once.” She listens, letting you reposition and posture her shoulders to the right height. Raise your arms like this, and you can pull the arrow back more than needed, believe me. Though this isn’t said out loud; but Yeji follows. 

“Like so.” Her shoulders are pulled up and back, slowing her breath. Stable with your hand to her backside, keeping her straight.She closes her eyes when the breath on her ear is a bit warm, hushing: “Now release.” 

Right down the middle, all with a good eye. The tip of your nose grazes her cheek. “Another.” 

Yeji goes through four more attempts. You aren’t guiding her at this point - nor you never needed to - so your hands are at her hips, pressing gently. As soon as the last arrow settles into the hay, she sighs and falters into you. “What’s wrong? Exhausted?” 

“Yeah,” admits Yeji. “A bit.” 

“That’s not all, is there?” 

“It’s just,” she says, licking her lips. You longed to have yours on hers. “Most nights are difficult without-” 

“Me?” 

Yeji goes quiet, unsure to think of a response. Without making it awkward, you snake your arms around her waist again, well moulded by her tunic. “It’s alright. Good shooting, by the way.” 

Her body sinks into you, head lolling over your chest. She looks up to meet your eyes with hearts - an underlying pull, urging you to lean down - closer and closer, if she permits it so. Your grasp becomes tighter- 

“Yeji,” you breathe, her name spilling out your mouth in this reverent, fragile tone. 

But the both of you look up to your names being called by Haewon, waving from inside the range. While she got your attention, Bae trailed behind her, bow and arrow slung over and walking to an open spot. Yeji squeaks in surprise while seeing who it was. 

“Hey! Are you guys sticking around the range some more?” Haewon asks. 

Much to your disappointment, you look at Yeji while she smiles gleefully, as if nothing ever happened. A good thing was that you guys were out on the field and not in the main part of the place, otherwise the flushed color on her cheeks would be a lot more noticeable. 

“Ah, I was just about to leave and see Jihyo.” Yeji answers, hand to her head. “Told me about some important matters.” 

“Aw, okay,” pouts Haewon, seeing you and Yeji walk back in to return the items. “Next time then?” 

Yeji bobs her head yes, smirking before seeing you two off, walking away without turning her head around. 

Once she’s out of sight, Haewon smacks your arm. “The hell was that for?” 

“I saw your look back there,” she grunts. “Don’t even think about killing me.” 

–

It’s one of the many nights that aren’t like the others, when you feel a shift in weight somewhere around your bed. You’ve trained for circumstances like these, sitting straight up and reaching out in the dark, grasping a firm part of the supposed intruder. They resist, until they’re flipped over and you’re hovering them, feel a small hand pressed to your sternum. 

The hairs on your neck stand, and your mouth warps when you finally see who snuck into your room. 

“It’s me,” whispers Yeji, finger to her lips. Her face, amazingly calm despite having your hand wrapped around her neck, curling your wrist. “If I wanted it, you’d be dead already.” 

Your grip loosens, but now you’re just cupping her neck. “That’s my saying. Also what are you doing here? You should be sleeping since you’ll be out later today.” 

“Why not? It’s not like we’re related or anything.” 

“You’re missing the point.” 

“Am I really?” 

“Yes,” you hush. “When you took the oath, everyone you have a connection with should be seen as a loved one. Nothing more.” 

“You say that but you act otherwise.” Yeji tells you, trying to break free from your grasp. Instinctually, you slide your hand down from her neck to her middle, pulling her close as you lean. She scoops under and flips the position where she’s on top and now you’re back on the bottom, falling to your chest, aware your fingers are glued to her. 

She tries to pull herself out, but you reel her back in. “Ugh, can’t ever get enough of me, hm?” 

“If I haven’t made it obvious enough.” 

Yeji lets the thought of going out simmer in her mind, only to rest on your chest, smushing her face into the firm muscle. She relaxes, and so do you. 

“Sleeping’s been difficult for me,” she breathes. 

“How so?” 

“I- I don’t know. Not since-” and Yeji doesn’t say anything more. 

“It’s because of Lia’s condition,” you say, feeling dejected. “We haven’t had that since Jeongyeon and Mina’s incidents.” 

“Those were pretty bad, in their own right.” 

Definitely some truth to that statement by her, you know that for sure. The war itself has taken a toll on everyone. Your sword drenched in dark red, scent heavy with blood, soot on your face, but Yeji watched from afar; the devastating sight of terror. In your eyes, her reaction was justified. She was a steadfast figurehead in the tactics, unlike the brutal matters. She left that to you. If anything, she hasn’t deemed herself ready for a step up in the task. 

(You’re certain with time, she’ll come to her own. Yeji’s been one to act on change if it feels right. 

Whether she’ll like it or not, is up to her.) 

“Not just them but-” her breath bundled in her throat. “It’s difficult to have that in mind when it could happen to us.” 

“People are dying regardless,” you say. “Maybe because of us, or even when they have something- or nothing to fear. War could even be about hurting the other person more.” 

“You’re not wrong, but I-” 

“You haven’t seen-” you stop short, rethinking your choice of words, “-what some of us have gone through. Jihyo should’ve shown you more, like she has with me.” 

“She should’ve.” Yeji agrees. “I should’ve.” 

You breathe her in, pull her close. The wave of haziness grows heavier and heavier. Yeji’s hand wiggles into your hair, nestling her leg between your thighs. She kisses your neck, nuzzling her head back to where it was before sighing in relief, sleepy. 

–

Much later, she’s the reason why you can’t sleep. 

Only because she’s wrapped to your side more, curling her figure where she could appear to be straddling you. With a knee near her hips, and a hand ghosting her shoulder. 

You could wake her up, or do nothing. Nudge her into consciousness so she can adjust comfortably - even keep her close so that she doesn’t leave at all. It kills you to do so; have faith that she could see you on a deeper level and gain her trust. You may be self-centered, egotistical. That’s the truth, and you’re swallowing your pride and pushing her down. 

“Mmnh,” a moan murmurs in Yeji’s mouth. 

But it’s in the slightest movement imaginable - similar to her shocked noise - you can’t second guess that. Soon, all your thoughts flood your mind, of the possibilities, solely focused on her. It’s defying, even freeing. 

You’re too fucking sensible to mindlessly run into the fray. Go off the deep end with your ideas. You just have to be sure. 

In the bend of your knee, you feel the cozy embrace at Yeji’s legs. Her breath hitches, fingers gripping the sheets, and you can sense the tension come to a halt in both of you. Neither of you move a muscle. 

Stay. Stay here. All I ask, okay? You bite down the want to speak, in pleading. What you’d do in worshiping her. Please. Please. 

All Yeji does: she looks up. 

You’re far gone. “I love that look in your eyes.” 

She’s still at your bracketing arms, burying her into your collar. “I don’t care about anything else. Please, I’m just- begging you to not-” 

Her fingers find your jaw, calming you. She rises, bringing her face closer. “You could never hurt me.” 

“It’s not that.” 

“Then what is?” 

“Aren’t you, well-” 

“Afraid?”

Yeji smirks, flares her nostrils. “Kind of.” 

The ends of her hair brush your skin, tickling. She guides your hand to her middle, right below her breast. Holding you for a moment - in assurance, or with a lasting impression. Neither of you are sure what’s to happen next. 

“What would be your biggest regret?” You ask. 

“It’d be you.” 

You blink. “I don’t understand.” 

Between rising breaths, you both move closer. Her nose bumps yours, eyes lidded. It’s close. So close, yet Yeji remains hesitant. “I- I don’t think you-” Your breath tangles with hers, lips parted. 

“You don’t even know.” 

Ah, little does she know: you do. Of course you do. It’d be an endless scripture of how much you yearned for her. Siphoning up the very air you inhale until there’s an endless void in the center of your heart. She reduces you to nothing, leaving nothing behind. You’re only heartless because your life is beating through someone else. She should know it. 

“Believe me,” you proffer taking her in, nose to her hair. “Do you have any idea? What you do?” 

Yeji’s eyes match the cosmos, shimmering. You keep stargazing. 

Till gravity says otherwise, by her own force, kissing you. 

It’s open-mouthed, at first. Then it gets erratic - frantic even. She leans down while you’re doing your best to keep up, pulling her bottom lip and letting her pepper your face with kisses; to your cheek, then your mouth, anywhere she sees an opening. 

Could you handle her? Let alone the rising beat of your heart claimed by her? 

“I can’t begin to describe,” you sigh, slack-jawed and in pure awe. “How wonderful you are like this. My beautiful girl.” 

Her fingernails graze your cheek, and you don’t give her another thought besides your lips. The hand to her waist a firm hold, leg pressed higher between her. It alters your brain a bit when the slightest whimper rumbles on her tongue. 

She holds your leg still, rocking her hips back and forth gently. Yeji likes having control, until the urge to want more consumes her mind. Moving up to where her hips grind down your stiff cock, buried under the heat. Sighing blissfully, her neck opens up and you lave your tongue over it. Your fingers hang along the curve of her boob, but Yeji holds your wrist there. 

You could stare at your hand later and memorize the mere detail of it: the softness of it, just a bit smaller to your hand, the fact it’s so easy to knead and how cute her slightly tanned nipples were. Grasping every other second. 

You don’t even pay attention to her slick spreading across your thigh. That is, when she jolts her hips, clenching at the friction. The motion goes sloppy. Yeji’s face warps into something deterred, almost tantrum-like. 

“Shh- shh. I’m here,” you coax, nose to her chin, and attentive. “What is it, hm?” 

Yeji’s eyes flash in fear, uncertain. Like the temptation of lust is a cardinal sin (which it is) and she’s defying the one pledge she swore to keep. The idea of stopping and walking away from you is a plausible choice, but for all the wrong reasons. 

The way she sits still repulses you. In retaliation, you skate her firm but with your thumb, lowering your head and catching the other with your teeth. You feel her pussy gush even more at the sensation. 

She shrugs at your nose to her hair. “It’s okay, Yeji. You can tell me-” 

“Don’t, you-” but her sentence is subsided by another whine, taking your hand and guiding it to her legs. And you can easily tell how damp her panties are, which inflates your ego much more than it should. 

You’re exploring, mostly going by feeling rather direct hints. Gliding your fingers over her lower lips and her head bucks forward, huffing. It’s also another thing where you slip a digit inside and wiggle her clit on your thumb. Oh, it’s even more twisted when you’re smirking at her clawing hands - though it's worse when she sinks over your throbbing erection, gyrating her hips in a back and forth motion. 

(This has to be a dream, right? Like- there’s surely no way you’re hearing these obscene noises from Yeji’s lips, spilling out from the warm flesh moulding at your touch, straight out of your fantasies from a hidden part in your mind. But her breath blows on your face, and the weight of her body is taking its toll on you. 

And it does turn out: you’re not dreaming.) 

She holds you tightly, much like she’s afraid to lose you. From below, you’re grinning into her marked up skin, high on the delightful sounds you’ve never imagined to be real. 

Nothing lasts forever, evident of the piercing shriek soon to fall down to nothing. As for you, chasing that same high, too, coming undone to your own devices. Your hand snakes out of her pussy and back to her waist, holding her still. In addition to the comforting kisses left to her jaw and neck, moving up until a tangy distaste coats your lips. 

“Yeji,” you’re echoing, softly. “Are you-” but to your shock, she looks remorseful, seen in her tears. 

“Yeji,” you breathe. “Baby.” 

Here she winces, throwing herself off to you and hiding away. It doesn’t help the deepening pit growing within, fearful of your heart being sucked away with regret. “Have we made a mistake, Yeji?” 

She shakes her head. “No, it’s just me. I swear.” 

“You can talk to me,” you whisper, pulling her closer. 

“I’m sorry,” she says while turning around, clear threads streaming down but her face grows cross, pressed. “We both made a mistake tonight. I made a promise and I don’t want to ever dishonor it.” 

Yeji has you stumped. Amidst the confusion mixed with anger, you don’t let this go. “To hell with your promise, love. You came on my fingers-” 

“Enough.” 

“This isn’t something you brush off. You wanted this.” 

“So what?!” Yeji says aggressively. Part of you agrees with her, while the latter is still stuck from the moments prior. “We shouldn’t- we shouldn’t have-” Her lips close. “I made a lapse in judgement. And I really am sorry.” 

“You-” is the last thing you sputter before your eyes are full of her figure, retreating away and into the hallway. The fingers are pressed firmly on your palm, still warm from Yeji’s slick. You plop back on the bed, breathe in the scent left by her as well. It doesn’t stop you from sniffling, or the tears seeping silently from your eyes. 

The thing is: you actually don’t sleep for the rest of the night. You couldn’t afford to. 

Not without this new discovery plaguing your mind. 

–

Yeji made it her mission not to cross paths with you, but she fails. A literal impossibility, for that matter. 

She can’t blame herself for having her room down the hallway, as one thing. It’s just- regardless of her efforts, you and her are knowingly tethered together. 

About a week and a half passes since that night, where her temper got the best of her emotions from your unimpressed smirk, she drags you into a storage closet in the hall after dinner, right before a gathering- 

“You piss me off,” she whispers to you between parted mouths, slick from kissing. “Please, don’t be mad at me. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry-” 

The room may be dimmed but you’re sure she can see your smirk. 

(Less than three days later, she’s squirting on your face in one of the many studies in the pavilions. 

Here’s the more insane part: she slips your cock into her mouth just seconds after.) 

Because you’ve learned this about Yeji: she can’t keep her word, ever. In the times where she shoves you off only to come back around. She’s losing, and not just with you, but her oaths, where she promised to herself, cursing in deprecation, words spilling like her slick. 

She deduces that she can’t stop. Plus the evidence is substantial to back the claim up. 

–

You and her go round and round, endlessly. 

Oddly, it’s kind of poetically infinite. 

–

You learn not long after: Tzuyu is on the same boat as you, sailing the similar troubles. 

She doesn’t share much, but you’re aware her lover was a goddess named Sana. 

Though unlike you: who vents their frustration on withered sacks of training dummies tied to a pole; Tzuyu channels it through scriptures, writing broken vows on soiled paper for it to be reduced as embers in a flame: 

“she cradles my head so sweetly, even if it’s spoiled with her essence. when all i hear are her pants - as i lie still on her chest. i hate how quiet she is - even when she speaks passionate tongues - these declarations i give on her body, it grows exhausting at times.” 

“the most damning part of it all?”

“i love her, but i worry she doesn’t feel the same.” 

–

On the battlefield, Yeji’s your enemy. 

You’re aware of the sudden chill in the tent when she walks in; acknowledging her presence with a look over the shoulder, see her lowered hood and turning the other cheek. 

“Fighting me is pointless,” she tells you, pleasantries disregarded. “You underestimate the number stacked against you. Even Sullyoon said-” 

“Chances are high, yes,” you say. “Optimistic from your part, I must say. But you have to realize, Yeji. You’re not one to steer away from the majority.” 

“Sullyoon is a siren,” she relents. “Just like me. I chose to protect my heritage.” 

“Then you really are lost.” You walk away, only for Yeji to stop you in your tracks. She stands her ground, looking you in the eye, determined. 

“This is a mistake. You’re making a mistake. All because you got mad at me.” Yeji says. You flare your nostrils, pull a faint smirk. She knows very well that you’re not one to hold a grudge against her. 

You then move a few locks of hair from her ear, caressing her neck. “Don’t be so melodramatic. We have differences today, but it’ll be a different story tomorrow. My devotion will be towards you, because in time, I’ll be the one protecting us.” 

“You idiot.” Yeji cringes. “I find your ego agonizing. Taking pride in battles all because you ‘feel like it.’ 

Her eyes flutter when you lean down to kiss her. She pulls away, unsure. The soft look in her eyes stacked with a faint smile is all it took for her to crumble. 

You know very well that she’s yours. 

“No guarantees out there,” you whisper to Yeji, winking. “Protect yourself.” 

Yeji’s face falls in dread when your back’s turned, watching you walk out of her sight. 

–

(Very few things bring you joy to this world. Amongst gods and men, there’s no competition at all. 

The thrills it blesses you: 

How it’s fulfilling - piercing flesh with aged steel. 

Hearing the wailing cries and then nothing. The heat blazing from above and the red spray baptising you with every offering by your blade. 

It’s so, so terrifying, but beautiful, to you. 

You can’t die, yet this vein-pumping sensation of excitement is the only thing you’ll ever get to feeling anxious - maybe even fearful. 

Wondering how it would feel, for your life to end. To be a mortal- 

Yes, well- 

That isn’t even all of it.) 

–

You search for Yeji, head so high you’re laughing with blood all over your face. 

She stands in the center of corpses, flicking her sword to rid some of the muck off. Once you’re in her eyes, your smile drops. Her face goes grim - like she’s unsure of her actions. If anything, you can tell that she despises losing; Yeji never liked being below someone who wasn’t better than her. 

Examining her sword, “What would this prove, hm?” she asks. “You being superior than me?” 

“Depends,” you say with a calm tone. You pause when her chin tilts, and you grip your sword a lot more tightly. 

You walk closer, stopping across from her, drenched in red like you were dunked in it. Safe to say that this domain was yours; and much more comforting than how it was on Olympus, where the only action was bickering in politics and lacking a real fight. 

One part is deprived from you, etched deep in the open wound within your heart. A quest of yearning where it would’ve sent your mind into madness. Just for it to be in arms reach: the precious girl who completes you. 

“Spare me your theatrics,” grits Yeji, displeased. “I’m not willing to hear your brash remarks about how good you feel.” 

You laugh. “How cute.” 

“It wasn’t funny.” 

“I’m aware,” you smirk. 

“Then why do you continue to spite me?” 

“Because it’s an amazing feeling to gloat.” 

Yeji huffs. “You could take it somewhere else.” 

“I’d rather brag in front of you.” you then say. 

Her eyes then dart in a different direction, mouth ticking upward. You step forward when she takes a step back, only to be backed into a nearby barrack, grazing the chipped wood mixed with dirt and soot. She doesn’t move when your bloodied hand holds her waist and shifts her over to a stack of hay bales. Yeji shakes her head while you’re humming with mirth. 

“You have no shame,” she tells you, face locked with yours. Yeji sees you as some unrelenting storm, the purest sins from the depths of her mind come to life; the cardinal sin she keeps coming back to. You’ll have pride in those regards, since you were great in delivering where it matters most. 

The knife cuts both ways, with all bad decisions in mind. 

As long as the both of you belong to each other. 

“Are you saying I’m careless?” 

“Have you seen your face in battle?" 

Her forehead taps yours, eyes drooping. “For the record, I take great care in combat,” you answer, fingers skating the fabric on her thighs. “The fray is always enjoyable if you go headfirst.” 

“Enjoyable? Do you hear yourself? People are still dying.” 

“Maybe,” you remark airily, meeting her lips. “They are, and we’re not.” 

Yeji’s brows crease, ready to retort, though you don’t give her a chance with another sweep of her mouth. She lets her body go loose, sliding her hand to your neck and angling up. Your hand slips under her gown, grazing the top of her thigh. 

Though your hand is already close to the familiar space in between. Luring you in with its heat, and she helps you get a better view below. “Please,” she whispers, almost scared even, remembering her oath. “Don’t-” 

You kiss her jaw, hard. As if to make a statement - a point. “I need you, Yeji.” 

“You know we can’t.” 

“I know.” You cared, but didn’t all the same. She bites her lips at the feeling of yours, nose brushing her skin atop her breast. “Let me have this- have you.” 

Yeji pulls away, gazing still. It doesn’t help with your nervousness, what you need to do. Closing her eyes, and moving her legs apart. 

You can share the shame with her, greedily or regretfully. She’ll forget about it in a moment. 

Without any warning, you curl her folds, not quite slilpping in yet. Yeji hisses at this, clawing your arm while you thumb her clit. She whimpers a bit too loudly, and you’re smothering her lips by yours. 

“Everything besides your mind says otherwise,” you harshly say, nibbling a patch of her jaw. Her whole body twists and bends to your hands, twitching. “How much you badly need this.” 

“No, I-” she stutters, nearly heaving. “I’m not-” 

“Liar.” You say with your sinking fingers to her squelching cunt, pinching down your thumb to not sate the ache she so desperately craves. Her eyes are no where to be seen, arching her back, chest forward and opening. “You’d let me.” 

“I fucking don’t-” 

“Wrong answer,” you grit. Pushing your fingers deeper, past the first knuckle with her legs clamping you. You could feel more slick pooling on your palm. “Don’t be in denial.” 

“Baby-” 

That’ll inflate your ego. “Ah ah, Yeji.” 

She snaps: “I fucking need you, okay?!” Her cry is in front of the circle of mutilated bodies. “How much more do I have to say it-” 

Her cunt quivers on your fingers, chasing that everlasting high. She’s got her breasts out from her gown, your tongue treating to a nipple and her entire body trembles. Yeji’s stomach bucks and bucks and bucks- 

Then your hand slips out. 

“No. No.” She gasps, reaching out to your hand. Instead of going for your help, she tends to it with her own fingers; though you hold her wrists tightly when she gets between her legs. As evil as you are: licking the slick clean from your digits, eyes full of a desperate Yeji clouded with unbridled want. “You can’t just- please. I beg of you-” 

“Keep your hand there,” you say dryly. 

Yeji’s eyes flash in fear. 

“Lie down,” you instruct, pushing Yeji up the seat. “Relax for me.” 

Thankfully, she was able to take the hint: lifting her knees while you’re traversing downward. You give a chaste kiss to her inner thighs, brush the end of your nose on the nub, smirk in content when she tries her hardest to stay still. She’ll give you shit for being such a tesae, licking her up like a poor kitten on her leaking slit, how her hand claws into your scalp, but that’s all the more reason to bury your face deeper. You absolutely love it. Yeji knows it too. 

Your tongue moves all over her as it pleases. “You taste so good,” you praise. “I could clean you up for days. You have no idea.” 

Keening, Yeji slips her fingers deeper into your locks, nails grazing your scalp - stirring your mind. She doesn’t need to say much - if anything at all. With so much above her to consider, she knows you won’t bend a knee, even when you could. 

Where your hands are at the plush of her ass, pressing your tongue deep inside. You treat yousrelf to her sensitive folds, the sweet pucker beneath, sip her down like wine, and you imagine it. Every sigh a relief - sounds of affection never to be spoken - and her moans a passionate refrain. 

(You can’t help but think of Tzuyu’s words: because you relate to them so much.) 

You’ve got her close to cumming like this, hanging on a thread. In all the humming and grind of your nose to her clit, she can’t pick whether to sputter nonsense or hiccup an incoherent sentence. Her heel digs into your back, the inner press of her thighs crushing your head, but you groan into it, hold her convuilsing figure down as a punishment. 

She has to take the licks, pushing your head away for fresh air when she’s legitimately shaking. Hands going haywire and you need much more than the sweet ambrosia leaking out of her. Which is why you’ve never been fast to undo your pants- 

Yeji notices and panics, propping up on an elbow. “No! The oath-” 

“I’m just,” you huff, stroking the length. “Gonna be like this, I promise.” 

Deep down, you wished to be proper and make it right: slipping inside her hot, warm cunt. Yeji rubs herself to you while you’re about to spill, vision going foggy with every impasse- 

You cum right then and there, all over her, spurting on her legs and right above her soaked pussy. 

It’ll be the closest you’ll ever get to cumming in her. 

Yeji sits up, apologietic. Fingers skating up the cum left by you. Her lips swollen, cheeks in a rosy shade, gown undone and exposing her breasts, legs still spread apart and coated in white. Debauched is one way to describe it, thoroughly fucked is close, but you’ll never get past the last hurdle. 

Because you and her didn’t actually fuck. 

“Hey,” she huffs, worried. “Look at me. Look at me, please.” 

“It’s alright,” you say, meeting her lips. Some of the dried up crimson chipping away on your face. You pinch her thigh until she giggles into your mouth. She could taste the anxiousness of your tongue. “I’ll be back for that.” 

She fixes her hair while you gather your things, smiling before turning the shoulder. Yeji adjusts her appearance the more you walk away. You still feel the rush, the imaginary high turned into reality: marking her as yours, just like you wished. 

Although it isn’t. No. You and Yeji have done this countless times and it still feels like you’ve come up short. 

It’s a sinking feeling. One that you hate for eating away at you. 

–

Boundaries shift, war rages on. And no matter which side, power always finds a head to rest upon. That’s the true nature of humans in this wretched world. 

This could be written as a prophecy - a story within itself: you and Yeji, bound by an invisible string of fate, always standing at the end of every skirmish imaginable.

You see it not as a blessing, but as a curse. 

–

After dinner in the grand hall, you’ve got Yeji pinned against the pillars away from the group, glistening thighs parted, and head facing up while you’re attacking her neck. 

You couldn’t deny how ravishing she looked, which is all the more reason to sneak away with her when you had the chance. Given the fact that her form-fitted dress was exposing all the curves at once. Yeji came off a bit hostile, kindly indulging in a light-hearted conversation with you and never escalating it past that. It only took one look; and within minutes, sheltered away from the lights, hand slipping into her dress, and circling back to the current dilemma. 

She twiddles a few ends of your hair, breath irregular when the head of your cock rubs her clit, spreading her sopping folds. 

It’s close enough to your liking, and the pleasure is aching. You longed to push past that brink, have her walls cling to you like a vice, make her feel full, but she refused. She won’t. She can’t. She’s loyal by the rules to a fault and compensates it for making it up in other ways, determined to stay true. 

Here is where you and her are different. You’ve been honorable to listen to her wishes whether you liked it or not. 

“Make it quick,” she whispers, breath hot on your face. You look over to hear the clamors of cheers and laughter behind - the implication still apparent. 

“What’s wrong with not hurrying?” You grin. “Worried you’ll lose your oath with a sister catching us like this?” 

“You- ah- that’s not, oh-” 

You roll your hips forward, grinding into the friction. Her head falls loose, jaw slacked. “I really could, y’know. Just push myself inside you and- fuck. It would be so easy, Yeji. It’s amazing to think. Look at how wet you are. How much you want my cock.” 

Yeji leans back when you brace her to the wall, thrusting forward and up with your face at her neck. Like you’re fucking into her. You bite her throat and soothe it with your tongue, feeling her body seize up when the feeling gets too much - pressing her legs together and claiming your cock as her own. She’s getting there again: that feeling she knows all too well to the point she won’t keep quiet. You wonder if the others can hear you nearby. 

Your fingers form a ‘V’ around her cunt and cock. Hushing into her ear, when she’s slicked over your hand, biting down on your shoulder to muffle the screams wanting to be let out. 

She cries, shaking and jerking. “Stay with me,” you coax, holding her still. “Don’t fight it.” 

Yeji bobs her head, a yes is what you get from it. Her cunt over your shaft is just too damn good, and you’re sighing: “God, Yeji. I’m gonna ruin you, girl. I swear-” 

Coming back to her senses, Yeji reminds you: “Not inside. Don’t even think about it.” 

“It’s tempting, this cunt of yours.” 

“I told you.” 

“I know, I know,” you say, thumb to her lips. “Maybe your face? Or your tits-” 

“Is that really what you want?” 

To your twisted desires: yes. 

But you’ll make do, licking her bottom lip while her eyes roll back. Soon you’re gently rubbing your thumb over them. Yeji goes the extra step, sucking down on your finger, and it hits you: “Your mouth, Yeji. Are you okay with that?” 

Yeji dazes off for a moment, but she snaps out of it. “Huh?” 

“Is that fine? You can tell me no-” 

“It’s okay,” she says, easing her breath. Her knees sink, lowering down to the floor. You gander the same way as well when she wraps a hand to your shaft, bringing it to her lips. She swipes the underside a few times - breathes you in. Watch as the tip slips through those pouty lips, sliding like she already knew how to make your legs shake. The most warming thing she does is look up with lidded eyes, shining with want, and you pray she’d have a change of heart, making you choke on your pride. 

Soon you’ve got your hand to her luscious locks, fisting with intent when she spits on your cock. Head falling further and further back with euphoria subsiding your rage. 

Yeji bobs her head down, and up. Rucks the inside of her cheek to your thick tip. “Mmrf?” 

“Yeji, sweetheart,” you coo. “Fuck. That’s incredible."

–

“You’re a prick. You know that?” Ryujin snaps at you when you’re walking back to the hall. All you do is smirk at the backhanded compliment. 

“Yeah? What of it,” you say carelessly. 

“Are you that much of a dumbass to pretend you don’t know what I mean?” She spits, pushing you out of spite. “Everyone here can see through your heinous intentions and you’re just drunk on your own benefits. Taking Yeji away from the group so you could do- unspeakable things?! Do you know what they’ll do to her if they find out she broke the oath? You selfish, heartless, little bitch. I hope you didn’t-” 

“Fuck her?” 

That only made Ryujin’s temper flare even more. “You’re the fucking problem around this land. I can’t believe-” 

“Wouldn’t you like to know what it was like? Tasting her lips?” 

Ryujin grabs your neck and shoves you into the wall. Finger to your lips, but you’re smiling. “You can take that shit to your grave. I’m not having any of it.” 

“Don’t you want to know what it was like? Having her undressed?” You ask, reveling in the madness. “Her mouth so sweet like nectar, body so hot until she’s sinking to her knees when I make her cum-” 

“I can’t believe you’re saying this out loud,” Ryujin huffs. 

“She’s lovely with a pink blush on her face, by the way. Clinging to me when she’s all fucked out of her mind. Oh, Ryujin. It’s so lovely.” 

“You’re insane,” she grits. Her eyes lock with yours, visualizing what would never be hers. You chuckle, lifting your hands up when she releases her grip to your chiton. 

“Do you want to know why? Why Yeji, of all people?” 

Ryujin balls her fist, unwilling to give an answer. 

“You, or anyone else would never understand. How much she means to me. That day, when I found her alone on the battlefield, crying her eyes because she was so lost. It changed something in me.” 

Ryujin huffs at you, gaze cross. You don’t expect her to say anything. She won’t tell on you, maybe. That’s for her to decide; the grudge she wants to carry. 

She could be right with everything. 

–

The temple glows with ambient lighting when you reach the top steps. 

It’s been hours since the last procession. Most of the clerics have already returned to the monastery, leaving gifts at the shrine. Basked in the moonlight, her golden statue, it’s a sight to behold. 

This was the last place you should be in. 

She knows this. You know it. 

Yet you can’t ignore the change in pressure - as if someone was stalking you from afar, waiting for the right moment to strike. 

“You don’t have to hide,” you say aloud, facing forward. “If my opponents wanted it so badly, I would’ve been dead already.” 

Yeji walks out from the tall shadow behind the monument, skin beautiful in white and in all its elegance. “Would death be the answer to all your problems, though?” 

“Depends,” you say. “Who’s willing to test me.” 

Neither of you speak a word after, aware of the tension thick in the air. You look in her eyes, now unsure why you even thought of coming here. This was the perfect place to meet, hide away in the night, kiss her with the stars above, and the thought of reciting adorable tongues to her pussy till she breaks was enough for you but- 

Tonight felt much different than the others. 

Haewon is the moon’s descendant, but no one shines brightly beneath it like Yeji. Like a fairy brought to life, willing to grant your every wish. 

“Why are you here?” Yeji asks. 

You blink, swallowing the guilt. It’s pointless. You have to speak up now or else- 

“I love you,” you proclaim, it’s needy and irritating your throat, but it’s finally out. “I love you. Yeji.” 

Yeji panics, stepping closer, making sure no one else hears your declaration. “What are you doing? You-” 

“It hurts me, y’know?” You say. “I really do love you. Much to the point where it’s eating my brain away and like you’re shoving a knife down my chest every time we’re like this. As much as we try to ignore- everything. I hate how we’re like this, when we could be more.” 

Yeji’s expression is full of remorse, and hurtful. She can’t hide the emotions held deep within - not with her heart full of life and spreading everywhere outside her being. The fact she says you’re greedy while she holds two hearts in her hands. You’ve never had a heart your entire life; that is, until it’s standing right across from you, beating proudly, nearly breaking. 

“You have the same feelings as well, right? Surely you have.” Your hand finds her face, wiping away a tear. Yeji makes you wince in her presence because that’s the effect she has around people. “I just- I just want to hear it. Just this one time and we’ll never speak of it again. I’ll never talk to you again. You won’t have to be put on trial for it, or executed. If you want me to leave you alone, I’ll do that too. Please, Yeji. It’s all I want from you. All I have left-” 

“You knew I can never say those words,” she tells you, sniffling. 

“And why is that, hm?!” You quietly exclaim. Her face is dangerously close - to where your noses meet. You want her crying, begging, on her knees like the good girl she could be for you, but you know that won’t make anything better. “Why is it that- we can’t be together? If you don’t have sex, the oath stands. Mother won’t find out, either. You can’t say three simple words to express your feelings?” 

“It’s not that easy for me,” says Yeji.

“I love you. My heart. My love. My everything-” 

Yeji hides her face but you pick it back up, kissing her cheek and pulling her close. That would never be enough, so you kiss her again: from her lips to her neck, her collarbone and down at her chest, until you’re on your knees - proffering your lips for a greater cause. You hold her by the hips and feel her stomach buck, the sobbing seeping through her lips as well. From both of you. 

“This is all that I am,” you mutter into her stomach. “I’m meant to love you. I love you to death that it fucking hurts.” 

This pantheon is filled with the mix of sobbing and loose prayers. She holds your head to her middle while covering her mouth, realizing how this is killing her too. 

–

(Neither of you say another word to each other after, but the message is clear: How can I make you love me?

Her answer could’ve been the solution to all your issues. If Yeji were to deem it true. 

Except it never becomes the truth. 

Yeji’s calling is much greater than your measly purpose.) 

–

When the horizon is broken by the rising sun. You feel Yeji still wrapped in your embrace, face to your chest. You bury your nose in her hair, and kiss her hairline. 

“Does right now sound better?” 

“I thought you were working?” 

“I worked five days nonstop last week so they were nice to give me the day off. A pretext for being the first contact if something goes to shit, so go figure I guess.” 

“Sucks.” 

“I know.” Karina sighs dismissively. “Where are you on campus?” 

“Near the science building. Walking.” 

“Wait for me there. I’ll scoop you up at the drop off zone.” 

“Waiting,” you say in a sweet tone. 

“Good,” says Karina, but the line hasn’t gone cold. You wonder if she forgot about the call, and you see the timer still increasing until she adds, cutely: “Can’t wait to see you.” 

She hangs up before you could utter a response. 

–

Thirty minutes of switching between socials and fiddling the phone is a good way to pass time. Until Karina’s car pulls up and she opens the door, grinning with sunglasses on her head. “Hi.” She greets, smiling. You haven’t got used to the red leather seats of her car yet. 

“Hi,” you’re saying back, cringing inside how dumb she makes you act. Karina however, knows the effect she has on people- on you. 

“So,” she says, chuckling. Leaning in her seat and putting the car forward. You watch her hands move the wheel with such finesse - one handed and everything. “Class went alright?” 

“Just a lecture. Nothing significant to report.” 

“Lecture on what?” 

“Eh, perhaps the challenging undertones presented at different stages from a sociological standpoint.” You say casually, freezing after. “I don’t think you’d want to hear that- uh, I mean- at least how I’m explaining it-” 

Karina’s side eye makes you inhale a smile; gears winding inside her head. “Productive lesson it is.” 

Your palm’s to the ceiling. “The topic itself is stretched across two lectures. Apparently they mentioned a guest speaker coming next month to discuss it. Said she focuses on psychotherapy and that already sounds interesting when the time comes.” 

“Who’s the guest speaker?” Karina asks. “Now you got me wondering who they invited.” 

“They didn’t say.” You smirk at Karina’s willingness to know more. Chaewon, at times, blocked you out entirely - when she felt needed to. “Enough about me. Anything happened at work this past week?” 

Karina scrunches her nose. “Well, we almost called the wrong time of death for a rolled-in trauma patient; had a bullet wound in his head and the metal was cascading into the brain if it wasn’t treated right away. They even had the audacity to make him a donor since he wasn’t responding. 

“Jesus,” you gasp. “Did you guys-” 

“Thanks to me. My coworker’s on the hospital’s shitlist after the stunt he pulled.” 

“You mentioned that they were brought on board very recently. To already have them cut off doesn’t look right.” 

Karina lifts her brow. “I already did.” 

–

When you see where Karina lives, you can’t stop looking from the sunroof. 

“Really? Here?!” 

She laughs at you, turning into a driveway and placing the car in her designated spot. Once out, she watches you gawking - your neck at a complete right angle looking up. “I wouldn’t be surprised,” you say, breathless, “Seriously, this place is-” 

“I know,” Karina shrugs as she takes your hand. She greets the green-dressed woman with a bob-cut standing under the awning and enters inside. Everything in the foyer is spacious and looks to be ready for a backdrop at a movie shoot. Not to mention the lift to Karina’s floor- which didn’t even feel like a lift at all. Down the hallway and the door into Karina’s estate, it didn’t stop there. You’re gagged - eyes wide as an entrée plate. Karina giggles with a scrunch. “Expecting something more grand?” 

“You and I have a different idea for a high-rise apartment.” 

“Coming from someone who could be the head of the state.” You tell her, in trade with a baffled look. 

Karina grins behind her finger, “Depends on how you define the term ‘high-rise’.” 

That said, her place isn’t exactly glamorous like you initially thought, but it was still a decent spot in the city. Most of the space has been occupied with modern furnishings, let alone the flatscreen floating over the fireplace. A moon pit couch dressed in a rich, green shade, recently bought it seems. 

You walk around and look up, spin on your toes. “You haven’t eaten, right?” Karina asks you from the kitchen, “I’ve got some bites from yesterday’s lunch.” 

“What’s on the menu?” 

“Some exotic spot, catered too,” she says, walking with an open container in her hands. “My supervisor Jisoo recommended it to the other members on the floor and we got it. Go on, it’s pretty good.” 

You pout, accepting the offer, hand in Karina’s on the way back to the couch. Your legs stretch out and the cushion molds beneath your thighs. Karina puts both legs over yours, schooching closer. 

A spoonful goes to your mouth, and you offer the utensil back to Karina, to which she refuses. “You don’t want any?” 

“I already had some earlier.” 

“How early?” 

“Like on-break-at-my-work early.” Karina answers and you hum and unimpressive noise, but you feed her a scoop with a smile before taking the rest away. 

A thought sparks in your head: “What do you mean by, you already did?” 

“Hm?” 

“About that new coworker who almost shit the bed in the ER. I mentioned that you should give them another chance to redeem themselves but you said that already happened.” 

“With the new hires,” Karina scratches her head, slightly embarrassed. “I suppose there’s more power to my word compared to the other seasoned surgeons there.” 

“What makes you say that?” 

Karina looks at the blank television. She inhales sharply, “My mom’s in charge of the board.” 

That’s something you didn’t know about her: “You profited the easy way up.” 

“Something like that. Though- ugh. I signed up there along with all the other top places in the city. My mom isn’t even involved in the freaking hiring process.” 

“Though she must’ve done something to get you in, no?” 

“Connections can benefit those who take advantage,” drawls Karina. 

“Shit.” You sigh. Then again, it shouldn’t even come as a revelation. Privilege is a concept you’re very familiar with. Gaeul’s family was regal throughout high school, and Momo’s a trust fund baby traveling the world, working on an island without any debts. The realm of wealth has orbited in your life for as long as you could remember. 

Maybe Karina isn’t like the others, the way she bears this cross on her own. It’s not for recognition nor praise. For one, she’s got a decent closet, but her attitude negates the appearance altogether. She views the world differently when one has deep pockets. 

That kind of wealth is something you know little about, too. 

You sigh. “Are you the only one in your family focusing on medical?” 

“My sister-” Karina pauses, pondering on her choice of words, “-step-sister, actually. She’s one. And my uncle was a pharmacist for a while before he decided to switch endeavours to things more worth his time.” 

“What kind are we talking about?” 

“He went into freelance photography. Bless him.” 

“So is medicine the common thread in your lineage?” 

Karina cackles, the hand on belly kind. “Not really. My parents wanted me to find something fun, and seeing how it played out with Ningning - my stepsister, by the way - they gave me full support in whatever I wanted.” 

“Why medicine?” 

She swallows another piece of the soft, lukewarm dumplings. “It was appealing to me back in high school. After graduating, I was undecided whether or not to pursue it fully. Then my uncle’s coworker at the time convinced me to keep going.” Karina explains, face brightening up the more she talks. “I thought about it for a long while and went: okay, why the hell not? And I stuck with it.” 

You’re amazed by the mere simplicity of it. Karina gazes into your eyes - seeing a sliver of her younger self. “Look at you now.” You coo, lips pursed. “Especially at your age. I wish I did something like that for myself.” 

“It isn’t all that,” she shrugs, chuckling. “Working to get the education covered in high school was a bit draining. Though, it made more sense considering med school was going to take up most of the time anyway.” 

“I admire your thinking,” you say. “I admire how you go about your life. Your mind. Just-” 

You. The thought makes you wince. Tugs on the heartstrings a little more harshly. Like you’re yearning, longing. The idea of you. You. All of you. 

It’s damning to admit. So you won’t. That’s not the reason why you’re here. 

“-how you figured all that out,” you say instead. It stings silently after. “I wish I had that for my story, pfft.” 

“Ah, you’re fine,” comforts Karina. Grin spreading across her face, veneers brighter than her fair skin. As smart as she is, it’s rare for her to be dense for a second. “I can tell you the tale about how my roommate and I got locked in my department’s building for a night or two.” 

–

You knock on the door of Karina’s study hours later. “Is this a bad time?” 

“Not at all,” you hear her answer on the other side, muted into the wood. “Come on in.” 

When you swing the door slowly, you’re hesitant; as if you’re intruding a space you have no right stepping in. The office itself is nice (just like the rest of the freaking house). In the middle was a desk with all assorted items like the desktop, files, the cup full of different pens. On the side is a bookshelf with thick spines and marked in names you’ve never seen before. A couch on the opposite end with a thick duvet next to the armrest. If she ever needed to nap, she wouldn’t have to go far. 

Karina smiles at you with her glasses. A relief for her case - considering she’s been essentially locked up here in a call for the past hour or so, probably more. “Everything okay?” 

“Yeah, I just wanted to check in on you.” You answer, standing behind the chair, arms to her chest. 

“It’s past eight.” Karina realizes on her desktop, squinting. “You should probably eat something.” 

“I’d say the same for you.” 

“Can’t. I’ll join you once I get through this last stack of files.” 

“And I’m telling you to take a break,” you tell her, locking your arms. She shifts over so you’re half sitting on the edge, carding fingers into her hair. Her face looks tired - you could see it in the eyes alone. “Five minutes is all I ask. Maybe ten.” Karina hums low, looking up, wisps of hair falling at the front and her arms at the sides, exhausted. A mere luxury to see her like this. Your lip slightly quivers because of it. 

“I’m telling you,” she says, “No.” 

“Five minutes,” you repeat. 

“These binders aren’t gonna be cleared themselves. This stack on the desk should be the last of them.” 

“You can do that right after,” you’re saying. Knees in the space of hers and cupping her nape. “I want three minutes of your time.” 

“Three minutes is all I need for one binder.” Karina muses. 

“Also enough time to have a few bites of leftovers.” You reply back. 

“I can eat later.” 

“You don’t even want your beef broccoli?” 

To that, Karina stifles a laugh, hands around your bottom thighs. “If I can work through these, we’ll have a late night munch somewhere. Sound good?” 

Your lips fall flat. To be fair, you’re not asking for much - not the presence or the lovely meal treat. You were never one to reinforce bad behavior to get what you want or the attention along with it. If anything, you just want to be seen; a preferred approach would be Karina to think more than just herself. 

Karina gets up thanks to you, thumb dancing along her jaw. She leans down and kisses you, slowly. Each peck matching a step backward, unknowingly pulling her away from the desk and to the couch. You take the chance to gander down her slender neck. 

“Couch,” you beg, quietly. “For a few minutes.” To that, she complies, spinning around and sinking onto the cushions beneath. She exhales, dispersing breaths racked in her chest, eyelids lidded, fluttering; you dip down again to her neck, visible tension at the lines of her shoulders. 

She knows the untapped power you possess, carding your fingers through her hazel locks. Karina doesn’t flinch when you lay your palm flat over her crotch, feel her mouth go slack. You grin at that. 

“You’ve got a taste of me,” you whisper. “More than once, but I never got the chance to return the favor.” 

“It’s always better to hear you cry than have your fingers buried in me. Though, I won’t stop you,” Karina chortles, but the tone of her voice sounds unsure, sealing her own fate. 

You can’t ignore the throbbing between your legs, hopping on Karina’s lap and kissing her once more, panting down on her tongue as she helps you fiddle with the bottom buttons of her shirt - her pants. She tenses up even more, clawing your thighs and nearly tearing skin. 

“Baby,” you chant the pet name, it could drive her insane. “You deserve to.” 

Karina tilts her chin, eyes unwilling to meet at first, but soon locked with yours. Behind hers is the unrelenting desire of taking, selfishness would be an understatement. 

“If you let me,” you’re saying, lowly, between begging and desperation, “You won’t regret it.” 

She bobs her head on reflex, then repeats the same motion firmly: there’s your answer. 

Your fingers hook her pants and you pull them down as you kneel. 

The shudders her body makes when you lazily kiss her waist, fingers sliding up her thighs, the fabric of her panties tethered to her skin. You could spot the damp spot at the center - the evidence caused from you; she tenses at the mere hush of your breath over her core - you haven’t met anyone that’s wanted you this badly. 

Karina opens her shirt more as you slip her out of her panties, your face gets warmer. Glistening folds consuming your view, tongue coating with the first slow licks. You grin at the twitch in her hips, pepper her cunt with more kisses, and she fights against the press of your hands on her thighs, burying your mouth. 

You keep pace, see what responds to most. Sucking on her clit, slipping a finger or two inside her walls; even the subtle drag of your nails to her legs. She doesn’t offer you a moment to breathe, pulling your head back in, humming at her hot core - the grip in your scalp enough to be ripped off. 

“Oh- oh my christ-” moans Karina. “Like that. Honey, just like that-” 

She digs her heel into your collarbone, to help compensate for the three-digit-curl you got buried in her pussy. Nose to her clit, lapping up the slick as she comes down. Karina seethes as her eyes fall on you - the sight of licking your lips enough to make her lose it on the sofa. 

It’s a tumble from a kick of the foot, Karina straddling you with your wrists pinned above your head. “That’s the only one off you’ll get,” she sneers wickedly, the corner of her mouth twitching with power. “Now it’s my turn.” 

Somehow you’ve kept yourself calm, ignoring the pulse between your legs with her knee brushed up in the space. You try to break free from her grasp, only to fail. She meets you with another desperate kiss, sliding your pants down and ripping your panties off. Every move Karina does is a practical vice: clutching every bit of you and with no chance to resist. Your shirt is next to be slipped out, and her hot mouth adds on to the rising heat on your chest. 

You wince as she pinches a nipple, clawing your breast. “I love every part of you,” she breathes. Dipping down to your collar. Her hand pushes your leg, spreading you open. Fondling. 

The ache is unbearable. You need her to satiate it. 

Karina hushes into your ear, coaxing. “Shh, shh. I’ve got you. What do you need? Tell me.” 

“Karina,” you gasp, “God, please.” 

“I’ll give it to you,” she whispers back. “If you want me.” 

You nod feverishly as she palms your cunt. As soon as the press of her thumb nubs the entrance, your gut tightens like it’s ready for a punch. “Look at you, all ready for it.” 

“You- fucking-” 

“Oh, I know darling.” She says into your shoulder, finding that sweet spot she discovered a while back. “It isn’t enough anyway.” 

Karina loves doing this - while you’re clenching around her fingers. You grab her hand and she groans, curling two digits inside. She licks the tears weeping out at the corners, reveling in adoration. 

“Deliberate little girl,” she praises, looking down at the motion of her fingers spreading you open. “Love having you like this; having you clamp my hand-” 

“Yes,” you agree, mind and body twisted to the touch. 

She doubles down on the rubbing, clashing tongue and teeth with you as your whole body goes slightly limp from the stimulation. It’s everything you’ve wanted - dreamed of - cumming with no reprieve and yelling at the top of your lungs. Karina’s three fingers and thumb press at your clit makes you cum again in no time. 

You lean up weakly to kiss her, taste the salt on her taste buds and suck up her mouth once the pleasure’s all washed away, in thanks. You’re thankful she could make you feel like you’re in heaven and it goes way beyond just the sex. The nook in your brain is occupied by her, and only her. 

“Very lovely of you,” sighs Karina, licking your chin, eyes lidded like she’s the one cumming now. “One more, for me.” 

She places her hand in the same spot as you bracket her hips, building the same pace in her fingers as before. “Hold me- just like this, just like-” 

Then she pauses, failing to register the ear-piercing squeal ringing the glass and her eardrums by you. Her other hand pressing firmly on your bottom lip, feeling the gush of your pussy on her fingertips. 

“Sorry,” Karina says first, hesitant. “I’d keep going, but I’ll kill you in the process.” 

Your fingers curl around her hand, pushing in deeper. She drops a confused look over you. “Why not?” 

She scowls at the clench. “You’re asking for it, aren’t you?” 

“Who says I am? It’s just the reaction.” 

Karina’s eyes shimmer with a renewed fire, sparked with intent. “I’ve never failed in achieving all the things I’ve sought out to do. Because I knew I could do it. You’re not safe either because there’s things I want involving you too, right?” 

Oh fuck. Your mouth quirks, without the sound airing the words. “Why don’t you prove it-” 

She’s quick to scoop you up from the floor, arms hoisting you by the ass. “I’m gonna make you cum again, but I need you to sit on my face first.” 

You laugh heartily as Karina rushes down the hall to her bedroom, the laughing progressively getting louder deep in the apartment. 

–

Yunjin calls you once the cooler, autumn air starts to prick at the tips of your ears. Her name on the phone screen and you’re dancing with the idea of not answering, but for another time: “Hi, Jen.” 

“Cousin.” Yunjin greets that isn’t a hello. “Are you busy right now?” 

“Class got dismissed,” you drawl, smirking. “On my way home actually.” 

“Usually you’re with one or two people if I recall.” 

“I mean, yeah?” You answer. “Not today since everyone’s out within speed dial.” 

“Even the two girls who look like top models for the MET gala?” 

“Wonyoung? Or Yujin?” You remark. “That’s a cute compliment, but they’re also focusing on their own studies. Even when they’re not putting the dating title to themselves, yet.” 

“What about you? Are you doing the same thing?” 

You stop short. It shouldn’t mean much, anyway. Knowing Yunjin, she’d ask depending on the importance. You’re hoping the safe answer would be enough to suffice: “I don’t have time for lovey dovey stuff.” 

“You said that last time.” 

“Yet you’re asking me again.” You dart back. “I would’ve brought it up as the first thing if that were the case, especially since the holidays are around the corner.” 

“The occasion doesn’t technically apply to this conversation.” 

“Jen, we all have things that aren’t worth sharing.” 

“I wasn’t even prying to begin with. It was just making sure you’re not sulking around being lonely.” Her voice rises aggressively. “Jeez, listen to the intonation.” 

You wince, stopping at the top of the stairway onto the main street from campus. “Sorry, I just wanted to know why the sudden inquiry.” 

“You’re doing the same thing again: not texting or calling me back. I assumed that you were busy getting your life in place that wasn’t just talking to auntie Sakura.” 

“This grad program is the ticket to my dream life, Yunjin.” You say, voice soft and with a scrunch of your nose. “Things have been a bit- hectic, recently.” 

“I’ve figured.” Yunjin replies before the call gets muted - which you can only assume that she was still at work and typically on break around this time. “By the way, auntie said she can’t make it up for the weekend. Plus I’m gonna be busy well into the break, so there’s a high chance we won’t see each other.” 

It was always work, that’s the excuse. Yunjin’s been like this since your high school days. You’ve tried to pry every now and then, but it would always end with Yunjin hanging you out without an answer. “Finals are coming up anyway, plus the supplementary courses are taking a toll as it is.” 

“But we always see each other for thanksgiving since you got to college.” 

“It’s just one of those times where it doesn’t work out, I get it.” 

“You’re sure there isn’t anything fishy going on with you?” 

“There isn’t, Jen.” you into the phone. “If there was, you would’ve been the first to know.” 

(A part of you cares, but the rest could be disregarded. You think Yunjin would be concerned for having the same feeling hidden within as well.)

Yunjin sighs. “If you do call me, I’ll answer right away. I hope you remember that.” 

You stare down Yunjin’s name and contact photo, looking up with a weight off your shoulders. 

–

A few days later, the doorbell gets your attention. You swing the door open with the heater running and there’s- 

Wonyoung. 

She stands across with folded arms, her prime resting bitch face for you to see. “Am I like your cousin now?” 

“What?” 

“You haven’t been getting back to me,” she accuses, walking past you with the trail of Tiffany & Co. wafting behind. She slips out of her trench coat and sets her bag down on the counter. “Spill,” Wonyoung demands. “I need to hear everything she did.” 

“Wony, what the fuck.” 

“Don’t ‘what the fuck’ me. Ms. "I'm hooking up with my older-rich-secret-girlfriend’.” 

You’re left astounded. Wonyoung usually has that effect on people. “Look, I can explain-” 

“I let it slide for the past few weeks or so,” says Wonyoung. “But putting your phone on perma DND - without giving me a heads up? That shit doesn’t fly by me.” 

You nod. “So that’s what this is about. I didn’t even realize-” you’re checking the calendar app, ensuring her point adds up. “Oh shit. Wonyoung, I- oh no, I’m so sorry-” 

To your assumptions, you have been closing yourself off from the others. Wonyoung’s messages on the left side occupy the whole screen. Messages from your best friend. Besides her, Karina was only the other person (and auntie Sakura on occasion) you’ve kept your time open to; when you brush over the last conversation with her, it was about exchanging- 

Hm. 

“Fuck,” you huff, head full of disappointment, taking Wonyoung’s hands and pulling her towards the couch. “Wonyoung, I’m so fucking sorry. I’ve been meaning to tell you, Yujin, fucking Miyeon- hell, anybody about my recent updates. I guess-” 

“Sounds like somebody’s in love.” Wonyoung eases. 

“Pretty much,” you laugh, “I mean- my TA said my current research project is coming along well. If anything, life’s been pretty good to me.”

Wonyoung applauses, patting your thigh. “That’ll be cool to see you showcase it at the department event next spring! Aren’t you excited?” 

“Hell yeah,” you grin. 

Wonyoung scooches closer. “I didn’t mean what I said, about the whole ignoring me part. Yujin and I used to be like you, and I know it was a pain in the ass to make time for me.” 

“In some ways,” you admit. 

“You wanna elaborate?” 

“Well you and Yujin are dating, Karina and I are-” 

Your mouth freezes, looking away. Wonyoung always noticed when something was up. She pulls you in for a hug, cheek to the bridge of your collarbone. “You don’t have to say it, I know,” she whispers. But you slightly shake your head in denial. 

“It’s a bit confusing to say, let alone think.” 

“You’ve been on the honeymoon phase already. Maybe it’s time to finally step back and reconsider what you want for yourself.” Wonyoung says. “There’s other ways to make money and plus-” she massages your arm, “-you don’t really need her.” 

You’re somewhat in denial, but hopeful to stay with the truth. “I don’t,” you breathe, it’s an instilled belief. “I can get by on my own.” 

–

Remind yourself: one thing shouldn’t affect the other. 

Even if the one of many things are your thoughts with Karina occupying your mind way more than it should, it’s substituted with a variety of options: socializing, the thesis, keeping Wonyoung in the loop. With the additional money left over, it also calls for some makeovers- 

“When I said a ‘makeover’,” Karina says over the phone, you smirk while shoulder to ear. “I thought it meant like- freaking clothes or bags amongst all things, but-” 

“I’ve been meaning to get new stuff for the place,” you exclaim, phone now on speaker, on top of a box against the wall. “It was between the new desk or the dresser. Those were top priority.” 

“So you went with the dresser?” 

Granted, Karina wasn’t asking about the furniture. It was more on the amount of money sent being enough to get the damn thing in the first place. You’ve got your tongue on teeth, smiling. “The dresser.” 

“Babe, I gave you my card so you could get some stuff for yourself.” 

You examine the card between your fingers. “And I did. It is something for myself.” 

“You’re not actually gonna start building it, right?” 

“Uh, I am.” 

“You’re gonna need help. I’ll do it if it’s fine with you.” 

You shake your head, “I’ve done this already, and with Wonyoung’s help of course.” 

“How much do you wanna put if I can get it finished before your initial answer, hm?” 

“We are not doing an over-under on a freaking dresser, Karina.” You groan. 

“Watch me,” she huffs over the phone. “I’ll be there in twenty.” 

–

Karina manages to get most of the dresser done, in the midst of all the curses and wiping sweat off her face from time to time. Her hair’s in a low and loose ponytail, shirt folded and hanging off the waistline of her pants. It’s salivating for you to see her a black sports bra. “I can help you if-” 

“You’re not moving from that bed,” she points to you with the pliers, scowling. “Give me a few minutes.” Funnily enough, she was almost done. The last bit was putting the drawers in and putting the handles together. 

While that was happening, you made an effort to work on your thesis- or study, but most of the words in the book started to blend together. The same could be said for reading, no luck there. Irene’s texts were even drier than the heat after you found out she and Seulgi went out together. Yes, it was good news, but Karina fixing her bra is the current report. 

“This mesh is fucking terrible,” she says to herself. 

“Should’ve taken off the last layer,” you mutter. 

“That would be flashing you, indirectly.” Karina snaps, eyes narrowed. “I apologize if it’s distracting.” 

“It wouldn’t be,” you retort. She was already on edge earlier when Wonyoung spontaneously called you about Yujin’s latest shoot. The next worst thing you could’ve possibly done is unintentionally give Karina a show on the bed but the pride got overshadowed by the shyness altogether. 

“Alright,” she twists the screw and pushes the drawer in, sighing with relief. “I think we’re done.” 

You sit up on the bed and see Karina fiddle with the six drawers. Kneeling at one end before moving around for a final check. Once she’s done, she pats the top, happy with her handiwork. “Should’ve put money on it.” 

“But it would’ve been a meaningless bet,” you laugh. 

“In the end, I get to keep my money.” Karina beams, raising her arm to stretch one side, and her face warps. She’s rubbernecking her neck and shoulder in discomfort. “God damnit.” 

That makes you stand up and walk over. “What happened?” 

“I don’t- ah,” she winces. “Of course it’s the same fucking- muscle, jesus.” 

Luckily, she doesn’t fight your help towards the bed, nestling in the cushions while you feel out her body on your palms. She squirms a bit at the double stack of thumbs on the spine, waiving with her fingers. “A little more to the left.” 

You take that into account and listen to her request, knee to her side and pressing firmly. Karina’s head plops into the pillow. It makes you giggle. 

“You’re enjoying this,” she says into the sheets. 

“So you don’t want the help?” 

She resists your moving fingers, tensing. “You’re definitely enjoying this.” 

“To be fair- your back was hunched most of the time, I think the signs showed as soon as you got up.” 

“I rarely hunch my back,” drawls Karina. “Except this once, I guess.” 

“Which is completely fine, and look-” Karina tenses up again and balls her fists with the sheets between her fingers, “-okay, you’re not gonna get anywhere if you don’t like my hands all over you.” 

She mumbles a soft sentence. You notice at the last second. 

“You’re not old,” you tell her. “I heard that.” 

“It’s not common to have a strained back from standing all day,” Karina huffs. “I swear-” 

“Pretty common if you don’t deal with it right away,” you say dryly. “And I’m not the one studying medicine here.” 

Karina curses into the pillow, fully relaxing to your touch. You kiss her neck and tickle her ear. “I’m just messing around.” 

“You really like taking advantage of my groveling,” she says, perking her head around while you finish kneading the tense knots. “It kinda concerns me.” 

“I’m just good at managing your sour attitude,” you sigh, kissing her temple. “My own words of wisdom.” 

You pinch both of her shoulders, burying your nose into her hair. She turns her head the same direction and pecks your cheek. There’s a quick moment of gazing into each other’s eyes before meeting lips again; no rush carried, but that gets negated with the urgency of hands to thighs. Karina slips out of her bra while you straddle, chest exposed for you, yearning at the sight of the rolling hips on hers. 

She’s quick to grab your neck and pull you in, breathing into your mouth. Her thigh lifts and brushes your clothed cunt, making you freeze at the sudden pressure. You push down on her leg and move your hips, feeling her breath quiver from the sounds escaping past your teeth. “I was expecting you to touch yourself- watching me all sweaty and icky and-” 

“Fuck, you’re insane.” You could’ve, really. She’s absolutely right. 

Karina pulls you closer and you wrap your arms around her head, heaving into her open mouth. The friction between your legs hunches you over. Her teeth opening to your smile and the both of you laugh at the same time. 

That is, until the doorbell rings. 

You look over before Karina steals your attention back on her. “Nuh uh,” she coos, licking your collarbone. “Stay on my leg, just like that.” 

Your fingers card her hair, grasping the scalp, imagining the hunger in her eyes once she’s down on you - enough to send tremors in your throat. Then the beeping of the new lock on the door fills your ears. 

“It’s me.” Yunjin’s muffled voice is heard beyond the door. “When the fuck did you get a passcode knob?” 

“Why now,” you mutter, hushed curses weeping past your lips. Of all times, why the fuck would you show up now? 

Karina loosens her grasp, sitting up as you hobble off the bed. Fixing your clothes and checking your face. “Who’s at the door?” 

“Yunjin,” you answer, panic coursing in milliseconds. “She’s my cousin.” 

“Oh,” Karina freezes, “Is that a-” 

“Exactly what it is,” you quip. “If I’m seen with you, I’m in deep shit.” 

“You’re not serious.” Karina’s shoulders slump. “Why can’t I-” 

“Don’t try it, Karina.” You instruct and you’re bolting to the front door. A turn of the lock and you open the door, seeing Yunjin shoulder her bag, flipping a few ends of her hair. 

You tense before putting on the figurative mask: “Yunjin!!!! Hello!!” She purses her lips back at you, tapping your arm as she walks in, noticing the small bundle of boxes left nearby the door. “I wasn’t expecting you to make the trip up.” 

“Should’ve mentioned you were redecorating,” she chuckles, setting her things down. “When did that happen?” 

“Well, a few days ago,” you answer. “It was about time anyway.” 

“A heads up would’ve been nice.” 

“What for?!” You exclaim. “You expect me to call you about every little thing about my life?” 

“I don’t. Only in the case where you’re buying things above the paygrade.” 

You pat down the box. “Clearance goes big when it happens.” To that, Yunjin arches a brow, accepting the assumption. “By the way, you didn’t let me know about stopping by.”

“You’re on break,” she tells you. “I figured I'd save the trouble.” 

“Yet you told me about the busy schedule, and Sakura-” 

“She knows I’m visiting,” she adds, giving a long gaze towards your direction. From the eyes alone; they’re cold, but curious beneath the hazel irises. “Two out of three is better than none.” 

“Right,” you say, slow. “I- uh, just ran out of food. And I was gonna go out-” 

“Why is your face red?” Yunjin suddenly asks. “Don’t tell me you were masturbating-” 

“Yunjin. For fuck’s sake. No.” 

Unfortunately, that answer isn’t enough to convince her. Suddenly your name echoes down the hallway, and Karina walks into the light - her appearance cleaned up and smirking devilishly towards Yunjin. 

“You wanna explain to me-” Yunjin stutters, “Who is this woman?” 

“Yunjin!” 

Your cousin folds her arms, eyebrows creased and fingers tapping skin at a fast pace. “This isn’t one of your friends, let alone a person that I know, too.” 

“Yu Jimin,” Karina supplies, sticking her hand out in offering. “I go by Karina amongst friends.” Yunjin, as you’d expect, isn’t buying any of this. She walks back to you, facing off with a similar height and mannerisms.  

“I hope you have a really good explanation for all of this.” Your cousin seethes, in all obvious points of pissed. 

–

Yunjin death-grips your wrist, drags herself out to the walkway outside, pulling you like a little kid having a tantrum type of thing. “So? Who is she?” 

You hesitate - a bad move already. She stands tall across while Karina waits back inside. How having her close by would be a whole lot better than the latter. “Hello? Am I talking to a fucking wall?” 

In her case technically, she is. “My-” 

“Spit it out.” 

“My girlfriend.” Suddenly your tongue feels like sandpaper. 

“I’m not buying it.” She sighs, unimpressed.

“Because she doesn’t match the look of her age?” 

“You didn’t even tell me that,” Yunjin spits after, put-off. 

“She’s thirty.” You supply, indignant. 

“And that’s a seven year gap compared to you.” 

“I’m twenty four in a couple months,” you retort. “Besides, I didn’t ask for your opinion.” 

“I expected you to date someone around your age.” 

“Wow.” You can’t be bothered about the insult. “How old is your little fling? Kazuha was her name, right? Answer me that.” 

“You knew better. Putting yourself out there to be taken advantage of is not how we raised you.” 

“Jen, you don’t think I know that?! My life is my own to live. Sometimes that requires me to thrive in isolation in order to achieve the things that I want.” Yunjin’s expression goes blank. Clearly unconvinced. “Karina’s treated me well, anyway! She makes sure that I’m not in a sour mood, and just very supportive and understanding. Can’t you see-” 

“What about your finances?” She suddenly asks you. “I haven’t heard about that from you in a while.” 

“I don’t complain about it that much anymore.” 

“I’ve seen the tuition bill, genius.” Yunjin deadpans. “Now: where did you get the money?” 

In a nanosecond, your brain short circuits. You can’t blatantly lie in front of your fucking cousin, because that’s just wrong. It’s not in your nature. Honesty is a key part in your personal coat of arms: “Okay, I-” 

“If money is the concern, then that’s something you mention to me. Not her.” A voice swivels Yunjin and your attention to Karina, standing in the open door. She seems calm, but you can see her masked anger hiding within. Your stomach drops ten floors, the bob in your throat clogging up the airway- 

Yunjin, not to your surprise, brings the fight to her: “Alright then. What’s your deal, huh?” 

“My deal is that pressuring your little cousin isn’t gonna get you anywhere.” Karina answers. “Like I said: if money’s the main issue, then you bring it to my attention.”

Karina stares down Yunjin’s subtle nod. “Okay miss priss. I’ll allow that.” 

“I’m just stating my case,” Karina drawls. 

“You haven’t made a case for yourself,” she replies back.

“I have no issue with her, and the same could be said on her part too.” You’re left in awe, jumbling fingers together since you’re nervous. Yunjin notices Karina fixing her wrist, the same seiko watch you remember seeing the night you met. 

“Pretty well off for a woman like you,” Yunjin assesses. “That’s not daddy’s money now, is it?” 

“Yunjin, christ.” You cringe at her backhanded complement.

“The bankroll’s a lot kinder to me,” Karina beams, and Yunjin shakes her head unconvinced. She gets a good look at her appearance and nods, but that could mean a few things. 

Yunjin takes a second to reconsider her angle, gazing down and looking back at you. “You’re still hungry, yeah?” 

“Yeah?” You shrug. “What does that have to do with-” 

“Okay, you’re hungry, End of story.” 

“Alright,” you say with rolling eyes. Yunjin looks right at Karina again. “Can the same be said for her?” 

“I’m starving,” Karina dishes candidly, tone flat. 

“Grab your jacket,” Yunjin tells the both of you. “I’m buying.” 

–

Yunjin takes you two to this one cafè on the eastside, ordering drinks for all three and giving Karina a neat sandwich salad plate since she insisted. You’re nursing your vanilla latte while Yunjin’s eyes are laser focused, burning into your head. Karina bites down her sandwich, humming in approval at the food. 

You place the cup down, meeting Yunjin’s expression and nudge Karina’s bumping knee, clutching to it and feeling her fingers caress yours, calming. 

“I still can’t believe you,” Yunin starts, disappointment unshaken. “Keeping a secret like this from me for a long while.” 

“Since I knew how this would be your reaction,” you snap. “Not liking the kind of shit I do for myself.” 

“Yourself?” 

“How I want to live my life. The way you wanna fucking micromanage every little detail from afar.” 

“In what way?” Yunjin prods, “Like how I’m treating you now?” 

“Calling you to update. Prying whenever you can.” 

“I”m only doing that because I’m worried.” 

“Worried about me lying.” You tense. 

“I never made that accusation.” 

“Yet the implication says otherwise.” 

Yunjin stops, sits up, prompts you to continue: “Every time you call is on a random day or every other hour. I don’t need you hovering the dial button because you think I’m gonna do something stupid.” 

“I’m only worried because-” she hangs her mouth open, losing the words on her tongue. “I just- want you to-” She stares down at her half-full cup of coffee. “Not make the same mistakes Rachel did to me, that’s all. That’s why I’m a bit on edge with you at times.” 

Karina picks up her empty plate. “I’m just gonna go-” 

“You’re fine, Karina.” Yunjin says, eyes full of life, relieved. “I was just about to head out, too.” 

“We just got here.” You say. 

“Already?” Karina asks. 

“I’ll save it for a proper conversation,” Yunjin tells the both of you. 

“Why save it when you can just let it out right here?” Karina suggests, smirking. To that, Yunjin chuckles, fixing her scarf. 

“Don’t get all cocky because I let you off the hook,” says Yunjin. “You want to do good for us? Make the right choices.” 

–

You and Yunjin share a hug outside the cafè, Karina watching with her arms folded. 

“I”m sorry, Jen. I should’ve said something sooner-” 

Yunjin puts a hand up, “You idiot, saying it now won’t save the damage.” She then awkwardly pats your shoulder, fixes your messy hair after. “Look, I just want what’s best for you. Plus, you’re well off with things lined up in your horizon, so keep it that way. Call me back, or don’t. I can’t make that decision for you.” 

Before you could utter a response, Yunjin had already walked back to her car, pulling away from the curb and blending into the traffic. Once she’s out of sight, your posture dips and the depression washes over you. “What in the fuck am I doing?” 

“Self-lament isn’t what she said to me about you, by the way. Lighten up.” Karina helps you straighten out, rubbing your arm for warmth. “She already planned on leaving when we got here.” 

“Why would she even-” 

“Everything she wanted to say was already said,” Karina answers. “For both of us.” 

“What about the convo back in the apartment?” 

“My answer matters more than her question.” 

“What did you say?” You ask, a hint of worry building in your bones. 

Karina hugs you from behind, softly laughing. “What’s important is solely on you.” She says that like it’s the reality - even in the back of your mind you believe it to be true - with her voice smooth as silk and hands cradling your head. You melt into her, sinking. “Don’t be so hard on yourself, we’re fine. Really, we are.” 

“I know-” you sputter, “I just feel like shit about this whole situation.” 

“You shouldn’t. If anything, that only piques my interest even more.” Karina grins. “Comparing your family to mine, my sister’s got her own shit to deal with and my step sister is a different story. That’s why I turned down going home for the weekend.” 

“Does that mean you’re working?” You then wonder. Karina grasps your hands, sniffing your neck. 

“Pain and people are a terrible combination.” She sighs. “But it pays the bills. Big bills.” 

An idea sparks in your brain, “Let’s go somewhere.” 

“What happened to eating?” 

“I eat here way too many times with Irene,” you say. “Plus I’ve been meaning to run errands.” 

“On that note, I never told you that I can make a meal.” 

Karina’s face lights up, eyes perked in excitement. “Dinner’s still on the cards, yes?” 

“You never said you were a chef.” 

“Until now.” Karina notes. “A good chicken dish, too.” 

Your arms drop. “I still need a few things.” 

“Fine. The station is up ahead here and we can just grab the other things spontaneously at the convenience store if needed.” She says as she takes your hand, leading you on this adventure. “Sound okay?” 

“Yes.” 

–

(You wonder. Of all the possibilities. The way she has your hand in her pocket - kissing your hand without a care prior - like she only saw you and the rest of the world faded from her view. Batting those lashes which makes yours mirror the same effect. 

When she holds you close in the cramped subway car, you can’t help but laugh into her sweater. 

Maybe you do settle with the best parts of Karina, and you desperately want it to stay.) 

–

Here’s another thing you learn about her: she’s not one to waste time. 

She grabs whatever she needs and doesn’t float around wandering. Only looking at the assorted wine choices for a minute before checking out. A pack of chicken breast and a few vegetables in a shopping bag. 

You hail a taxi outside and play a game of footsies in the car, stifling a laugh while the driver looks in his rearview and Karina’s pinching her neck when the noise gets too antsy. She whispers to you how normalized misery is among people, because they’re deprived of an aspect they’re longing for. 

Thankfully for the driver’s case, it was only a two-stop back to the apartment. Karina’s got her arm locked with yours and you can’t shake the delight in your bones, heart beating madly like it’s about to burst. You stare up at her while opening the door, sensing the luxury of what coming home with someone feels right at this moment. 

You’re quick to get back inside and turn on the heater. Karina sets down the shopping bag and shrugs her coat off to the chair nearby. She’s assessing the lay of the land, opening cupboards for ingredients within reach. You stop in your tracks and watch her get comfortable. As if she’s been around for a long time. 

“A grilled chicken dish,” you breathe, smiling. “How healthy.” 

“My specialty,” Karina says, placing a bowl in front of her. “Mom used to make it all the time. Probably the only thing I know how to cook and cook it well.” 

“The ‘ol reliable,” you’re cackling. “Yunjin and I would make egg fried rice even if we didn’t crave it specifically.” 

“Fried rice trumps all,” agrees Karina. She sets the two pieces of chicken breast on the wooden  board, testing the pointed edge of the knife, beginning to slice evenly cut slices. “I also noticed, you have a bottle of Petit Manseng just sitting in your fridge?” 

“Gift from a coworker,” you supply. “A going away present when she moved overseas.” 

“There’s a difference between a decent wine and high-end wine.” Karina tells you, placing two glasses and pouting a small amount in both of them. “Trust me, I would know.” 

You coo, swirl the wine in the cup. Clink the glasses together. “To homemade cuisine.” 

“Not bad for a last minute dinner.” Karina says, sipping. The two of you taste the sweet burn of the beverage. You watch as she turns around and tends to the sizzling pot. A thought bubbles in your mind, but you finish off the drink to drown any slimmer of optimism. 

It’s nice, to be honest. How easy living like this could be. The sight of Karina making herself at home - your home. 

You then stand and approach Karina, leaning into her with slithering arms wrapped to her waist, cheek to shoulder. In compliment, she leans back slightly, nuzzling her head with yours. The both of you want the branding of affection to stay on your skin. 

“Food’s almost done,” she tells you, hushed. Forehead to yours and breathing you in. “Go back, babe.” 

You’re pulling away, unable to fight the gravity in your feet, drifting further and further. 

–

Karina sets down the fork on the plate after finishing her spoonful of grilled teriyaki chicken, watching you scrunch your nose at the food melting in your mouth. See? Told ya it was good.” 

You move your head side to side, humming gleefully. “I have so much respect,” you say, tapping your middle and thumb fingertips over the dish, “For you to cook an easy meal.” 

“I never said I was a bad cook,” replies Karina. 

“I didn’t imply that you were,” you retort. 

Out of nowhere, Karina lunges forward and presses you into the cushions, making you laugh uncontrollably. Her hand ghosts over your chest, pinching your middle, and you take a heaving breath while stuttering a warning about the coffee table, but that wasn’t the problem at all. “Karina! No, please!” 

“Why not?” She asks, cradling your jaw. “I thought you were a touchy person.” 

“Around friends!”

“So I’m not your friend.” Ouch. You could see the hidden wince warp on her face. 

“Never said that.” You say. “These are serious allegations, mind you.” 

“Too bad,” Karina tells you, her leg between yours and sinking down on top. “You won’t be able to argue soon.” 

“Don’t!” And that’s the last word you say before Karina’s bombardment of fingers takes over your body. You try to resist with all your might, but it’s hopeless. She relishes in your laugh almost teetering into a cry; when she finally thinks you have enough, she nuzzles her nose into your neck, gently kissing it. 

“Had enough yet?” asks Karina. You don’t give her an answer. 

More fingers join the fray. “Okay! Okay! Karina, stop-” 

“Such an actress,” she huffs, resting her hands on your hips and grants you a few seconds to breathe. When that’s done, you cling onto Karina, nose hovering above your ear canal, sighing like the hurricane of anxiousness becomes no more. 

“Hey,” she starts, “How does a movie sound?” 

“What’d you have in mind?” You then ask. “We can see what they’re streaming.” 

“I was thinking something cozy, melancholic.” 

“Like a romance?” 

“Maybe a sad romance.” 

“Good god,” you chuckle. “I never thought you’d be one to cry over dramatized things.” 

“If they’re done well,” Karina explains. She blinks twice before registering your dull expression. “I’m being serious.” 

“‘If they’re done well,” you repeat. “It would have to be something that takes me by surprise, like something completely unexpected.” 

“Oh, you’re that kind of genre enjoyer.” Karina says dryly. 

“Blame my ex for shifting my perspective,” you dart back defensively. “If anything, it’s her fault.” 

“I guess fuck her too, then,” she agrees in relent. “Don’t blame me if you’re sobbing a puddle by the end of it.” 

“That depends,” you say as she goes through the catalog: Love, Rosie, Me before You, My Oxford Year. Karina goes with the third choice. “What about that old debate about books being better than the movies?” 

Karina leans back as the movie starts on the screen. “Subjective, depending on what you watch.” You snort, trying your best to hide your laugh. All she does next to you is shake her head in disappointment and keep her eyes on the TV as you eventually come back down to watch. 

–

Way later, Karina hands a box of tissues at you because you cried while huddling the armrest of the couch, reaching for the glass of water she got earlier during the movie before finishing it completely. “Sorry,” she says. “They called me in for an early shift tomorrow. I’ll have to leave soon.” 

You have the urge to plead her not to go, scream it at the top of your lungs. Though, you say nothing in the end and watch as she gathers her things, wrapping the burberry scarf around her neck as she stands by the door. She then opens the door - letting the chill in, and she shields you, hugging you close. 

Karina moves a wisp of hair off your face, her shimmering eyes in all its glory for you to see. You still don’t want her to leave. “I’ll be off in the afternoon, most likely,” she announces. “You’re not busy by then, right?” 

You nod, coughing at the air curling your legs. “Yeah.” 

Her thumb grazes your temple, and she dips down to kiss you; a small hint of soy sauce still left on her lips. You get a head of yourself, pushing your head forward, but she sees this and stops the attempt. A soft smile is given as an apology and you pull away. Karina chuckles and pinches your ear cuff. 

“I’ll see you again,” she tells you, kissing soon after. 

“Okay,” you sigh. 

When she closes the door, you don’t move at all. Torn between running out to get her or staying inside. 

–

Right after the break, the guest speaker comes to campus. 

You’re on your way out from the lecture hall when someone calls the name a little too loudly. It's only the next two or three times that the same person is running closer towards you like some crazed super-fan. “Hey! You got a second?” 

“Miyeon. Hi.” You greet, muting a chuckle. 

“Almost thought you didn’t show up,” she says. “You’ve been pretty much non-existent since midterms.” 

“You mean to tell me you’re still mentally stable after our exams?” 

“Oh, of course not,” Miyeon answers with her trademark cheeriness. “I slept for a third of the talk anyway.” 

Your face warps, from genuine confusion to puffed cheeks into a fast cackle. Miyeon scratches her head before you could collect yourself. “I worked closely with her during my volunteer hours.” 

“The lecturer?” 

“Mrs. Ningning Yizuho, yes.” 

“How did you-” 

“Close connection with another colleague.” Miyeon provides a shrug. “She’s very intimidating. I can still bring you two together!" 

“Sure,” you casually agree. “Lead the way.” 

Miyeon enters back into the room and walks towards the pit, seeing a refined brunette in a white quarter-zip speaking with another professor from the department. She calls her name, getting her attention, eyes widening in disbelief. “Miyeon Cho? Oh my goodness.” 

“Indeed it is,” beams Miyeon, acknowledging the other professor’s presence while they step away to give you three some space. “Lovely lesson, by the way. It was amazing.”

“Glad to hear that!” Ningning says back. “I hope you’ve been doing well since our time together?” 

“Splendidly,” Miyeon says. 

“Hopefully your internship with Ms. Song is going well, too.” 

“I’m working on my overall assessment on the given assignment. On top of that, I help in some of the various courses throughout the department. Which reminds me-” Miyeon motions you forward. “I’d like to introduce you to my good friend in one of the lectures.” 

“Pleasure to meet you,” you say, presenting the niceties with an extended hand. “I’ve heard a lot of good things about your work.” 

Ningning’s features are emboldened in close proximity. Her dark, auburn hair in waves highlighted with a gentle blush on her cheeks. Her eyes are similar to another individual, sharp and sheltering intelligence. It’s oddly uncanny. Yet you settle on the fact that she would’ve owned the runway if she didn’t have a PhD. 

“Your name sounds very familiar,” Ningning tells you. “And you said she’s-” 

“One of the top standout students in the grad program,” Miyeon butts in. 

“I see-” Suddenly, Ningning’s eyes spark. Filled with knowledge and realization. “Ah- yes. Yes! I know. Wow!” 

“Yes?” You ask puzzledly. 

“Why didn’t I see it before?!” Ningning exclaims. “Are you acquainted with Karina?” 

“Karina?” The dots in your head start to connect instantly. Ningning. Karina’s family member. The stepsister she mentioned a while back. It was in the freaking family photo next to the dresser. Her and Karina sitting in the front row of the portrait. 

“Oh.” Your mouth forms the utterance. 

“That’s amazing!” Ningning’s voice pitches higher in excitement. “Wow!” 

“May I ask,” Miyeon waves her hands between you two. “Who is Karina, exactly?” 

“My stepsister,” Ningning replies, gaze full of delight. “We both work in the medical profession together.” 

“Karina’s-” your voice hangs for a second. “-talked-” 

“She was with me very recently,” answers Ningning. “Brought up psychology, but didn’t tell me about the institution you were learning at.” 

“Yeah,” you breathe. “I assume the info was need to know.” 

“Well, we most certainly found out,” Ningning smirks. “Regarding your field of study-” 

“It’s psychology with an emphasized focus on kids in an educational setting.” You say, presenting Miyeon in the flip of the plus one. “Miyeon’s been helping me get connections along with my project later in the spring.” 

Miyeon nods her head willingly, a bit thrown off since she just explained your story already. 

“Connections,” Ningning says pensively. “Good thing Ms. Cho here was sweet enough for me to get acquainted with you. Finally, at least.” 

“Better to start now than later,” you smile.

“Karina did tell me that your assignments have been-” Ningning smiles back with higher brows. “-tough, to say the least.” 

You bob your head, taking the truth to heart. “That’s weird,” Miyeon then says. “I’ve only met Ms. Jimin once through Ms. Yiz, but how do you know her? That's my question.” 

Miyeon sees your flashed look, thinking of the mixed aroma of calamari and steak intertwined with decent wine. The night where you’ve got money in your pocket from a complete stranger, and you’ve got no way to explain much like Karina’s demeanor. 

Ningning, sweeps the question her way. “A great girl like her,” she says to you, “Has been the best thing about Karina’s life so far.” 

You let the compliment sink into your mind, swirled with the deep thoughts of dread. As much as you wanted to move, you couldn’t. In Ningning’s words and how she presented it, all of it is drained out in seconds. The ‘great’ tidings she bore, diminished to nothing less than a simple goal of one’s ego. 

It hadn’t even been a week: Karina being in your space, holding you so dearly with her eyes and hands like you’re someone she’s been searching for all her life. All of it made you forget that it was just your head - running the false play as if it were legitimate, and real. 

So full of stupidity, and pride. Shameful. 

“Does anyone else know?” Miyeon bumps your arm, nervously pulling her lips. It doesn’t register in your ears in the deafening white noise. “That you’re getting back into dating again?” 

Karina and you weren’t dating. It stings to admit reality. Mourning what you had. Karina said you were a prize. Not a lover. Just someone to be intimate and get the edge off with. 

“It was nice to meet you,” you say to Ningning, returning your false mask to light. “I’d love to connect with you some other time, really.” 

“Right,” says Ninging, dejected, or so you think. Considering how she grabbed your hands and hooked on to the cuff of your coat. Highlighting some sort of interest there. Maybe Karina told her about you, the things you two did together. Maybe she wanted to have her fun as well. “My info is reachable from your professors. If you need anything, call me.” 

You bow to her and Miyeon, motioning to leave. The linoleum turns into concrete until it meets the asphalt before you even look up. Clutching your phone with a shaking hand while you’re reeling from what just occurred. 

A tear falls on your cheek, then on the other while wiping. You feel like the things you’ve worked towards this were ripped away from you entirely. It probably has. 

Oh, how wrong you were, of everything. 

–

Your phone’s been set to ‘do not disturb’ for the time being. 

Normally, it would be brushed off like it’s nobody’s business - except that she’ll make it her regardless. Some check in with a worry like a ‘you’re okay, right?’ or ‘what happened?” while others are stupid moreso of ‘can I speak some shit about the same idiot at work today?’ 

Simply put: you’ve got no intention to contact Karina, at least for a little while. 

It’s partly your fault - failing to get Karina out of your head. Your productivity tanked and so did the effectiveness, both at work and at school, Miyeon can vouch for that especially. Meals get skipped, which could be doubled down on the depression. The effect of Karina being a key part in your daily routine has shown. You don’t even remember how you were before seeing her. 

Along the line, someone will send their flowers in recognition. Commending you for being as headstrong as you are, impressed to keep your life private as it is. Wonyoung begs to differ, since she’s also the kind of person to not stop until she has what she needs: 

“I am sick and tired of blowing up your phone!” You hear her yell down the hallway, bursting down the door like some FBI agent. It’s nine o’clock on a Saturday and she’s here on her usual antics which you’ve grown to be used to. “Look at me and stop drooping on your goddamn laptop!” 

Your face isn’t fazed. “Who said I was drooping?” 

“The same girl whose phone is practically unreachable,” Wonyoung snaps, tossing her handbag on the vanity and turning on the lights. “Irene and Wendy had to message me about you not showing up to class, meaning you’ve been cooped up here for God knows how long. Also, I had no knowledge of-” She sits prettily and swivels the chair back to you, all priss and royal-like, “-on top of the fact you’ve been moping and hiding. You’re on my personal shitlist.” 

“So what,” you mutter. “I stand by my actions.” 

“You’re also taking action by coming with us.” Wonyoung huffs as she stands and shuffles to the closet. Rummaging through your clothes until she picks out a violet shaded dress, bought by Karina. You look away in regret. 

“I’ve made it my goal, to get you outside,” says Wonyoung. “Yujin’s downstairs and I’ve got a few more faces coming over to meet us on the west side. Whether you like it or not, you’re getting out.” 

“No chance,” you tell her, knees to chin. 

“I think so.” 

“Try me.

“C’mon, why the ‘f’ not?

“Wonyoung,” you say with shut eyelids. “I- I just can’t.” 

“Aw wah,” Wonyoung coaxes, “And I don’t give two shits.” 

“Well fuck you,” you snap, flailing your arms in frustration. “I’m not in the mood. Not for drinking or going to the lower west side-” 

“Karina lives around there, doesn’t she?”

“That’s not the issue.” 

“So how am I gonna fucking convince you to go otherwise?!” Wonyoung raises her voice, exhausted. She picks up the dress and looks at it herself in the mirror. “I’m not leaving until you change your mind. And if you’re gonna be a bitch about it, I still don’t give three shits. You’re better off doing something to keep busy rather than hide here with your soft feelings for the foreseeable future. You fucking loser baby.” 

“Excuse me, rich bitch,” you clap back, agitated. “Maybe that’s just what I want to do with myself. Instead of taking my answer the first time, you couldn’t help but spew bullshit about messing with dating for the fun of it, and now I’m in this ordeal because of you, Wony. Don’t ever tell me you ever give a shit because I would’ve been better off alone than actually belong to someone who ever gave an ounce of care.” 

Wonyoung’s expression stays unchanged: prim and refined how it always appears. “Do you feel better now?” 

“I’m pissed,” you answer. “I’m always pissed.” 

“Which is okay,” she coaxes, corralling you into a hug and hiding in her shoulder. “You have me here as an outlet. Even when some of the things you yell about slightly concern me.” 

“This is all on me,” you tell her. “I’m sorry, Wonyoung.” 

“You are right though.” 

“The most you did was tell me about the app in the first place. It’s the whole reason why we’re at this point tonight. Now that I’ve realized what I really am to her.” 

Wonyoung pats your shoulder. “Sex is essential,” she chuckles, “I don’t need to tell you about my attachment issues with Yujin- or, my assorted toy collection. I’m still sensitive about letting you borrow my dildos.” 

You gasp, playfully freeing yourself from Wonyoung’s grasp. Her eyes light up when you smile. “Now, am I leaving you here or are you finally coming with us?” 

(A moment of pause, seeing the dress at the foot of the bed. You’ve tried it before, know where the spots shine with glitter and the curves are defined the most. How Karina’s jaw was on the floor in the fitting room and booked it to the stall. It pains to think about it, but Wonyoung’s point stands: you can’t do anything while staying in solitude, so it’s worth getting out.) 

Wonyoung’s brows lift high when she sees you grab the dress. “Get my makeup box,” you instruct her, and she’s kissing your forehead in elation. 

–

Yujin rolls down the window outside on the street, hailing you over with a hand raised. “Jesus fuck, girl. Do you wanna bet if you’re getting laid tonight?” 

“Uhm, Yujin- let’s not-” 

“Yujin, save the manners when we’re actually at the bars,” Wonyoung says while settling into the seat. “Plus the name alone is a trigger warning so take it easy.” 

“That bad, huh?” Yujin’s eyes darts to the rear view. “Say no more. We’re gonna have so much fun today, I’m super stoked.” Soon she pulls out into the street, wheeling down while you’re gripping the arm rest a lot tighter than usual. 

“For the love of God, please don’t get pulled over like last time,” Wonyoung tells Yujin, grinning when she sees your eyes bulge in nervousness. 

–

Luckily, on a late Saturday night, the traffic is pretty bearable if the drive’s less than twenty minutes. It’s a karaoke session in the front of the car while you're gazing up to the city lights, mixing them with the stars above, unwilling to gaze down and see the area you’ve learned very recently. Right before you could even close your eyes and breathe for a second, Yujin’s parked along the street and shuts off the engine. 

You’ve seen most of the clubs around this part of town, nothing surprising or stand-offish from most of them. Once past the bouncer, the ambiance of the place is speakeasy, and cozy. Broken by the occasional strobe lights and with the bass from the subwoofer’s past 110%. Wonyoung keeps you close through the crowd until the place breaks off into an elevated portion with private booths, a table with guests sitting on both slides. 

Irene peeks out and notices you three, sliding out and jogging towards you to say hi. Your face and hers go soft while you envelop her in a long overdue hug. 

“Do you get more beautiful every time I see you?” Irene asks, looking down while you’ve got the dress at the ends. “How is that even possible?!” 

“I should ask the same to you,” you yell back, the music way more louder with the roar of the audience. 

“Everyone else is here, look!” 

You follow Irene to the table, slotting back to the open spot where she’s next to a pretty woman with a wavy wolf cut, who you immediately pick out in excitement: “Seulgi!”

“Sup,” Seulgi greets back. “Good to see you.” 

“You and Irene, huh?” You nudge your friend’s elbow. “Happy to see it happen?” 

“Where’s yours?” 

“Don’t worry about it,” you say, noticing a drink sliding across the table. “Still serving me off the clock are we?” 

“I’m not responsible for what happens to you this time.” Seulgi tells you as she presents the beverage. You acknowledge her warning and take the offer. Suddenly a voice gets Yujin’s attention: 

“Wonyoung! Hey!” 

The whole group looks over and sees four people filling in, two stunning women in the front, one guy in the back and a third girl in the middle. When they approach closer, her hair is a bright silver contrasting the all black fit. She waves when her eyes set on the group. 

She gets bombarded by Wonyoung’s hug. Wonyoung failed to hide her exclaiming because she was just really happy to see her. “You’re finally here, Winter!!” She then takes her hands and slither into the booth, glancing over to you, and faintly smirking. “Meet my sister’s coworker, Winter!” 

“Hi,” greets Winter, shaking your hand. She turns her head over and motions her finger for their friend’s attention. “Meet Somi, and that’s Jiwon.” 

“Pleasure,” you say, bowing your head.

“I’ve heard quite a bit from Wonyoung,” Winter continues, moving her shoulders closer to you. “A few times she comes over to see her sister’s shoots.” 

“She cherishes me too much.” 

“Exactly,” chuckles Winter. “An angel living among us. You really fostered pets while rooming with Wonyoung?” 

“One of the many things,” you remark, hand to the back of your head. “She didn’t complain, either.” 

“Are you just naturally kind-hearted?” 

“I’m flattered?” You say in shock while Somi and Jiwon sit on the opposite end. There’s a sense of uneasiness when Winter accidentally brushes your shoulder. 

“Anything else I should know that Wony has told me yet?” She then asks, leaning her head back with narrowed eyes. “If you’re willing to share.” 

“That depends,” you say. “What are you willing to know?” 

“Beats me,” answers Winter, adding: “What about grad school?” 

“Psychology,” you tell her for one. “I work at the library on campus while interning at the department. You didn’t know the last part there, right?” 

“Until now,” Winter says, cup in her hand. 

“What about you?” You ask, mirroring the same action as her and drinking the seltzer as an appetizer. “You work with Wony’s sister?” 

“I”m in the same modeling agency as her,” she says, scratching her neck. “So we’re in the office a good chunk of the week.” 

“And Wonyoung drops by every now and then?” 

Her lips twitch, hushing her chuckle. Winter undo’s her quarter zip halfway, setting her arm on the table. “You’re very impressionable, I like that.” 

“Thanks?” You say, face warm and legs pressed together tightly. Maybe all of this was a bad idea. “I-” 

“We can save the formalities later,” she says slyly, closing the proximity. “We both came here to have fun tonight, yeah?” 

–

In your natural compass, disregarding all morals between right and wrong: you do have fun in the end. 

Two mega glasses of the club’s finest brew is enough to get you over the edge. A bonus with the jello shots that’re too many to count. Winter eases into it as you’re quite the opposite. To let loose from a hard day’s work is enough to suffice, yeah? 

On the dance floor and near the stage is where you somehow find yourself in, bouncing between groups. Wonyoung and Yujin the first, then Irene and Seulgi the next. Both duos are dragging - pushing you back and forth, to the point where you make Irene squeal and drown each other beneath the light. 

This is enough to save you through the night. 

What’s more is that Winter gets on the floor as well, moving with the music. Seulgi spots this and tugs your arm to her direction, where you eventually fall into her arms, hands resting on shoulders. Her mouth is close, a little too close for your liking, but you’ll allow it. She gets closer. It’s damning how the look on her face appears to be one she had for thirty years - albeit thirty minutes in reality. 

“Why don’t we get out of here?” She leans in, her trademark flash of teeth short-circuiting your brain. 

“Maybe.” Your eyelids fall slowly. “What do you have to prove?” 

“What you want to prove to Wonyoung.” 

Probably the easiest thing to do, because of the alcohol, is give in. Nodding along with her lips dangerously next to yours. 

–

There’s quite a lot you give into. Winter’s got her hand wrapped at your neck while the other’s in your pants, curling a finger inside your cunt. Lips caressing the curve of your jaw and it’s really all incessantly fucked up: sleepy smiled and relishing in the blush across your cheeks. You’re pretty sure someone at the street will notice the alleyway, but who would ever look in the club’s primetime hours in the first place? 

“Has anyone ever said-” Winter kisses you when the moan slips out. “How beautiful you are?” 

You whimper at her sliding thumb on your lips, nail pressing on the flesh and one of her few patchwork tattoos. “Not really,” gasping when her ring finger joins the fray. “I rarely get compliments like that nowadays.” 

“A shame,” she says, sliding her arm under your back, nibbling on your chest. “I wouldn’t let that happen.” 

Here’s a backhanded compliment morphed into an observation for you: you’re a fucking dumbass, a hypocrite even. Despising what you preached only to be powerless at your new silver-haired ‘friend’ doing the Devil’s tempting work. You should’ve known better from babbling nonsense where Winter figured out which spots you liked best, how you wanted to be held, where her teeth graze and her fingers pinch. A complete opposite to the Winter you met over an hour ago, since this one likes to see you worked up and needy. 

You slip out of your dress some more, give more space to breathe - let Winter shove her hand in your panties. She giggles at the subtle flinch of your belly button. “Do you wanna keep going?” Winter asks, sinking down. See how your face warbles in delight. “I can give you everything.” 

Randomly, almost on impulse, your eyes refocus on what's happening, panicking as you push Winter down onto the floor. You cover yourself as the wind blows in. “I’m sorry, Winter.” 

“Wait-” 

“I just can’t.” 

You walk away and refuse to look back, fighting back tears. The next thing you do is get in your contact list and scroll down the names, tapping on one with the first ring not even going all the way through: “Hey, what’s wrong?” 

“I need to see you,” you shakily say to Karina, extending a hand out for a taxi. “It’s urgent.” 

“Okay, but are you sure? You sound on edge.” 

“I just-” you stutter, teeth chattering from the chill. “I just need to get out of here, please.” 

“Can you wait? I’ll come down-”

“No, don’t.” You say. “I’ll do it myself.” 

“Honey-” The name pierces your ear, and you end the call. 

–

The cab ride over to Karina’s is a little over ten minutes. An extra minute or so when putting the fee for the mileage, stumbling out of the car soon after. Then there’s also the small tweak of your ankle because of the ridiculously high heels. That bob-cut hotel employee is surprised to see you at this hour, but she lets you in with a confused look on her face. 

You get on the elevator, end at the floor Karina’s apartment is on, trip and stumble in the hallway, and get to her door with a few fast knocks. “I know you’re in there, please!” 

Right on cue, Karina opens it from the other side. Your heart palpitates at the sight of her, her brown locks flowing, in her night gown and slightly on edge. She lets you in before your emotions could, watching you storm inside. “What happened? I could’ve picked you up-” 

“Ugh, I don’t know,” you huff, tossing your jacket off and struggling to get out of those annoying heels. Karina ghosts her hands but you refuse with a tensed noise, disheartened. 

“What did you do?” She says in assessment. “You smell like alcohol.” 

“I was with Wony. We went out.” 

“Did something happen?” 

“I got plastered.” You tell her, and Karina’s eyes blink sorrowfully. It presses you that she has a worry to you, wincing at the groan rumbling in your chest. Why should she care? If at all? 

“I have clothes for you. Do you need anything?” 

You don’t say anything but stare at her. Karina breathes deeply, annoyed. “It’s hard to read you like this, honey. I’ll be honest.” 

“Shut up.” 

“Hm?” Karina sees you fed up, fists balled. “Enough with- the names. I don’t want your money or your gifts. I- I don’t want the fucking money anymore. You don’t even care. I’m sick, sick and tired of all of it.” 

“Okay, hang on,” she says back. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. I do care.” Her face shifts to something hurt. “Can you explain to me what the fuck happened earlier?” 

“Stop fucking asking me!” You scream. “I’m fed up with this bullshit between us.” 

“What are you even talking about? What the fuck is wrong with you?” 

“What’s wrong-” you spit, grinding teeth. “-is I’m done being your little play thing- your sugar baby, okay?!”

“The fuck?”

“You heard me. I don’t want you to be my sugar mommy. Why? Are you hurt when I say it? Because I feel like shit when I do.” Your breathing becomes irregular, anxious, and you keep going: “And I’m done. I’m done. I’m done. I’m fucking done.” 

Karina’s face folds into disgust. “Done? What do you even mean you’re done?” 

“I’m done with everything,” you say with your hands up. “I- I’m fed up with just- being okay with you, coming over to my house, fuck, and then give me money after like that’s totally fine. Honestly, I thought it was okay. That it didn’t hurt to not think about it, but then I started to really think and- hoped something would shift. That didn’t happen tonight and that really makes me shitty.” 

“Sweetie,” Karina coos, fingers on hips. You cringe again. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” 

“Of course you don’t,” you grit, lip quivering to a smirk. “Get this: I met someone earlier tonight. Someone who made me feel deserved and full.” Karina’s face crosses her arms, brow arched to say she’s not buying what you’re selling. How her expression goes cold, moments before a serial killer goes for the killing blow. 

“What did you do?” She asks you, calmly. 

“I let her touch me-” then you choke, because the guilt finally bursts past the truth: “Kiss me in the alley outside the clubhouse but I-” your words start to tumble out with jittering hands. “I just couldn’t. She wanted to take me home and I pushed her away. Only because I thought of you, Karina. I think of you- and these feelings, my heart and even-” 

“You mean to tell me you screwed me with another girl!?” Karina cries. “What good does that mean for me if it also fucking hurts!?” 

“I didn’t know any better! We were never serious! I’m fed up with you treating me like this for your own benefit!” 

“My god- I told you multiple fucking times! About how I felt about all of that. I wanted what was best- that’s why you’re with me and not freaking Giselle!” 

That hits you right on the nail. You fucking idiot. 

Your mouth forms an ‘o’, shredded from anger and heartbreak. Most of the stupidity is clouded from your lack of judgement. “I, I-” 

It dawns, hardly. She gave her point straightaway that time, when she sat at the bar. The money wasn’t even supposed to be a proxy - a clarification in a simple misunderstanding. She’d never treated you in what you hated so- No. Never. Karina cradles you in her eyes delicately. 

Yes, she’s blinded by rage, but holds your face dearly. There’s nothing more you’d rather do and drop down to her feet and recite a penance for your sins. “I didn’t mean it, Karina. I- I just wanted to be happy and not feel like shit all the time-” 

She swoops you in, muffling your wailing sobs. It’s only for a few minutes of calming down then Karina decides to lull over your mistakes, figure out where you finally stand in her mind. What would happen now that she’s finally seen you reduced to nothing. Nothing. 

To which she says: “You’re really something.” And laughs. You’ve never sobered up so quickly. Despite being still hurt. 

“What’s that supposed to-” and she shuts you up. 

With a smoothened brush of her thumb on your cheek and a kiss. 

–

It escalates slightly a few minutes later, your back against the wall and Karina’s sweltering mouth attacking you - on all fronts. 

“Don’t-” you stutter between pecks, tugging at her nightgown. A sharp inhale from the nibbles. “You fucking, little-” 

“Not so little,” Karina grins, pinning your wrists. “What do you want, baby?” 

“To touch me,” you gasp. 

Karina’s hands tend to the zipper behind, and her clothes pool at the floor. Each touch her fingertips make is electric, siphoning every exhale in the slightest graze. 

“Is this good?” she asks, breath hot over the layer above your heart. Your foot slides up the wall, bending. Arching at her low moans into your skin. “I can tell you want more.” 

“Nothing more, just you.” 

Karina’s lips lick another inch of your neck, sighing lowly. “Tell me again.” 

“I just want you.” 

She grabs you quickly and shoves you on the bed, with no chance to fight back. Gripping her hips as she presses your waist down. Her heat spreads over to you, unbridled and blossoming. Karina’s hand glides up your thigh when she breaks the kiss, sighing a silken promise left unspoken. “You drive me crazy.” 

“That’s just my charm,” you stare while she ganders down: a trail of kisses from your sternum, then ur middle, until the tip of her tongue flicks your belly button - pushes your legs apart. “Karina, Karina-” 

Karina quivers her mouth, hesitating. “Lower?” Seeing your eyes squinched shut, tensing. 

“Fuck- just do it already-” 

“Mhm-” 

“Don’t fucking stop,” you order, and Karina doesn’t. 

You breathe in, relieved. Laughing at the newfound sensation of her lips tending to your cunt - turning into a small strain, then groaning. You claw Karina’s scalp, guide her to where you need it most. The only thing you knew how to do, besides berating yourself: was holding her head and the sheets; let your body tremble through the quick high of your release, bucking at her touch, until you’ve felt whole and less of nothing. 

Karina, showing she never made her point wrong, coaxes you through. Taking you gleefully in her mouth for as long as you could hold it. Once she’s had her fill, she climbs up, collapses on you, bask in the afterglow and fading tension built within you two. 

Her fingertips trace your chin, and she still has that same look from that night in the bar: stoic eyes but filled with sympathetic curiosity. 

“I was scared of you,” she hushes, sleepily. “Of something terrible happening.” 

You bump her nose, tap the little beauty mark just beneath her mouth. “Are you still afraid?” Karina chuckles and nuzzles her face to your stomach. 

“Not anymore.” 

–

You’re the first to wake up in the morning. Quick to realize Karina wasn’t next to you, jolting a sense of panic. On cue, she walks out the bathroom and sinks to her knees, levels with you at the edge of the bed. She grasps your knee - as a sign of anxiousness, because she can’t afford to relax, not even for a second. 

“How’s your head?” She asks first, gently tapping your thigh. Watch you try to keep yourself calm the best you can, though that only lasts for less than a minute. 

“Ka- I’m just- fuck, about what I said- what I did. All of it was just me being stressed and I didn’t mean to fuck up our relationship. I was freaking out since Yunjin- and not only her-” Your words jumble together, to a point when Karina shushes and reminds you to breathe. It’s ok. One thing at a time. I need you to relax and take it slowly, please. 

“Me being pissed at you is one thing,” she says, “Trying to figure out your episode is another. And I think there’s one common point between this.” 

“I’m such an idiot.” Way to apologize without saying it, girl. 

Karina knows you don’t mean it. “It’s because of what we talked about that night.” 

“Yeah.” 

“Even when I held an olive branch for your situation, which explains the money.” 

“Now that I think about it, yeah. That also explains why I got with you after-” 

“Because I was interested.” 

“After the Astoria, when we had dinner, you-” 

“You don’t just throw out five grand to a girl without having a legitimate reason,” you laugh, because it’s still genuinely insane. “Did it ever occur to you how ridiculous of an investment that is?” 

“Your situation,” says Karina. “Like I said, I was in your shoes before.” 

“That’s a bit deranged, too. No?” 

“I don’t think so.” Her hand stops at the crease of your knee. Shifting her thumb and index to rest below your jaw. “If it were for anyone else, then yes.” 

“Wow.” You ball your fists, nervously. “Seriously, what the fuck-” 

“About last night, in the alleyway.” Karina’s face goes cross, “When you-” 

“I swear to you, she didn’t do anything more than what she did,” you plead. “Yes, it was in the moment, and with the alcohol. Then I fucked up and stopped before things got worse.” 

“You would’ve been in a lot more shit if you escalated it,” she deadpans, face flat. “Someone could’ve died that night.” 

“I didn’t mean to,” you say while grabbing both hands. “Please, on my life.” 

“It’s okay. You made it up to me last night, anyway.” 

Now realizing how sore you were, that’s one part in your brain you’d hope to remember. “But that’s not the point, either-” 

“If Kim Minjeong-” 

“Karina, how?” 

“She called you. I answered and told her to never come near you again. Worse comes to worse, there would’ve been a crime scene already.” 

“Wow, you didn’t have to go that far.” 

“You’re one to talk.”

Oof. Karina. 

That sets a nerve off, and right when you’re about to yell your mouth off, Karina clings onto you. Arms moving up your back, holding you there. “I- I realize now after a few days. How much you really mean to me. I love you.”

You sigh her name, so much it comes out in a ‘damsel in distress’ tone. “I’ll say it again: I love you. For a while. I believe it to be true.” 

“Karina-” 

“I even dabbled the idea of you moving in with me to my roommate Ryujin!” 

She stops her train of thought when you stare up at her, look down at her chest, prompting her to press her lips to your crown. Let her hold your face with such earnestness and she catches the mumbling wisps- 

“You what?” 

“I said,” you inhale, preparing: “I love you.” 

Karina rolls her eyes, “Oh, I know that. Why don’t you punch me again as you say it.” 

As much as the offer is tempting, you remain still. Melt into her embrace. Let the rest of the world fade into obscurity- until you hear: “I’ll still be able to take your hand in marriage?” 

You say nothing. “What?” Karina continues. “We both said we loved each other, did we not?” 

“Skipped the whole ‘getting down on one knee and the ring’ part.” 

“It’s verbally put in existence by me.” 

“We both have different interpretations, Karina.” You sigh. “We haven’t learned at all. Plus, marriage isn’t in my plans as of now.”

“So when?” 

“We’ll know when we get there.” 

“Guess we’ll do this,” Karina lifts you up on her arms, making you smile widely as she hoists you against the wall. Grinning like an idiot. Kisses you like an offering from the heavens. “You’re just gonna have to deal with me until then.” 

-

a/n: been a min... thank you for the support as always. to readers/followers old and new, i appreciate you <3

–

A part of your brain starts to wonder: well, shit. how the fuck am I getting another dinner with someone I barely met? 

(Opportunities like these aren’t difficult to come by, especially for those struggling to make ends meet. 

If there was a pedigree in that regard - you, my friend, would be the cream of the crop.) 

–

Instead, let’s lay it out this way. 

–

You keep rolling your eyes at Jang Wonyoung, who continues to laugh at you while she lays out the overlooked proposition: 

“The dating app itself isn’t a bad idea. If you really stop thinking for a second, you’d be making money.” 

This isn’t the first time you’re hearing the money convos from her, and it certainly won’t be the last time you decide to listen either. 

“Money,” you say, eyeing your best friend who’s treating herself to the assorted makeup items in your box, tossing a color back having no care - which is how she usually is with most things in her life. “Don’t you think that’s related to sex-” 

“Sex work?” 

“Yeah, that.” 

“Sort of, but-” 

“Why the hell would I do that?” 

“You’re too close-minded,” Wonyoung tsks in correction. “Point being: you’re a sugar baby. That’s what it’s called. Honestly, it could be worse. Sex is only half the conversation; maybe the company is all they need. They take and treat you out for dinner and that’s it. Exclusivity isn’t even supposed to be an afterthought.” 

“You sound like you’ve done this before.” You tell her flatly. 

“Who, me?” Wonyoung snorts. “Pfft, of course not. But I’ve heard good things about it online.” She looks up at her fingers and shifts her gaze to you. “I’m not telling you to do it; but if you’re looking to get some paper in your pockets, the option’s there. You won’t know until you try.” 

There she goes - her underlying pretense which leads to more and more misfortune - as always, with a peaked brow and a soft sigh of defeat. Wonyoung pretends to let things go, but deep down she knows you’ll come back around to reconsider. 

Your phone buzzes on the bed and that changes your attention instantly. Among the messages between your tutoring gig to the rescinded application of the restaurant Wonyoung insisted not to work at, her face goes smug and she has a good guess as to who’s texting: 

attitude diva: shoot’s ready. where r u? 😔

attitude diva: you better not leave me alone with just my hands tonight 🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️🫠🫠

Wonyoung clicks her tongue, “Is that who I think it is?” 

You completely ignore her question and slip on your sweats and hoodie at the door. “Let me think about it, okay? Then I’ll see where I stand with the offer.” 

“If you really need it, then Yujin wouldn’t be on top of you in ten minutes-” 

Unfortunately, you don’t hear the rest of Wonyoung’s plea - nor bear the mind to wave her off into the sweet breeze of the night. 

–

They should’ve put this on the pamphlets, talk about it on the campus tours, hear it from a random professor on their way to class - the pursuits people fall into within the four-to-five years of obtaining their degree; using their education for bigger endeavours and typical jazz to reel in more students, implement numbers on graphs and personal destinies with some meaning behind them. Amongst the pack, you’re ambitious in one part - mostly lazy on the other, but willing to get by any means necessary without putting too much effort into the work required. Cutting corners, essentially. Because who wouldn’t? 

(Take Jang Wonyoung for example: 

Yes, she’s got the looks, fashion brands lining up to sign a deal with her when the time is right; even her brains is also a plus -  if she feels like it - she wants to waste her time paying no care  pleasing her peers with her smiles and light-hearted pick me demeanor (if she deems you worthy of getting to know her). 

In short: She’s the kind of girl you’d want to be close with from the get-go. Someone to stay by your side through thick and thin when the balance between work and classes are in disarray.) 

As for An Yujin:  

“Bet that feels amazing, hm?”

The sound ripped out from your lungs is all confirming. A meld of being tense and pliable: just how she wants you. 

“Shhh,” she murmurs into your sweat lined neck, “Lay back down for me, hun. I’ma fuck you good.” Her eyes are clearly blown out, lidded. Lips tiredly placed across your skin and the purple lighting on the ceiling above is all too hazy. “Lemme hit like it’s mine.” 

“You can because it’s yours,” you rasp, gasping from the slide of her silicon cock slipping inside, parting your walls. Yujin’s already made you cum from her fingers - that wasn’t even ten minutes upon arriving. Soon after, you returned the favor by letting her ride your face, making you chase that reward until she eventually lets go. Now, she’s getting off at the sound of your breath stuttering, dragging back and slapping the rubber at your swollen folds. She’s already ruined you once, now she wants to do it again. 

Yujin angles the phone up toward your chest, ensuring that your face isn’t in the picture. Thank god you made that agreement with her. Considering how word travels fast around the school and only very few people know about this secret side hustle. Her hair’s already a mess, running a hand through, biting her lip when she sees you wince at the dildo being halfway in - stomach clenching in reflex. “You look so good for me baby,” she says while gripping your breast, pinching a nipple. 

“Fuck- please.” You sigh, mindlessly moving your hips to meet her thrust in the middle, eliciting a small whine past your teeth. Yujin’s hand then goes to your waist, fingers pressing down and pulling you towards her more. “Yujin, oh my god-” 

“Yeah? You like that? Gonna be a good girl for me?” She asks, laughing at the expletive.

“Yes, yes-” 

Yujin sees through your pained expression, pressing her body down, lifting the arch in your back to go higher, dip her fingertips in the small divots right above your ass. “Hold still - just like that, there we go.” 

Her pace picks up in small increments, little by little for it to not hurt. Just the way you like them: slow and steady - get a rhythm going, let her earn the edge she desperately craves. 

(It’s a bit ironic, thinking about your words and Wonyoung’s insight, because all the evidence Wonyoung needs to see are the marks where she imagines them to be on you and prove herself right.) 

“Oh my god, oh my god-” 

“So fucking wet for me,” says Yujin, wickedly astonished, her hips now hitting yours in full force - spreading you open and pushing her rubber cock deep, “tight little thing you are, hm?” You could feel the clench in your stomach get uncomfortable, the pulsing between the legs rising in heat. 

She smiles at the lazy blinks, giggles at your bucking hiccups. “Baby, baby- please - keep pounding my pussy, hold my tit till you rip it off-” 

“Asking for so much - jesus-” 

You gasp, stray hand reaching for her neck. “Cause I know you wanna give it-” 

“A filthy slut is what you are, babe.” 

“You like it when I - ah - talk back- anyway.” 

Yujin slips the silicone out, lays the underside on your clit, rubbing against it harshly. She sees you grind your teeth and white-knuckle her wrist, chest heaving and every passing breath more wrecked than the last- 

“Honeybun,” she coos, finger-thumb combo to your chin, following her movements when she leans down for a kiss, slips her cock right back in - bottoms you out. The next move - reflexively, almost by instinct - rolling the hips into hers and making her stare at the body move, through the phone or with her own eyes. “Shit, look at you.” 

Your lips are tilted at an angle, airily humming a sort of ‘mhm’, the side of your head on the mattress and pussy gushing all over the rubber. Yujin hunches over - the phone with the perfect money shot: kissing your cheek as your entire body bobbles against hers, placing a few more marks on your neck, your chest, anywhere where the red can be seen. 

You swear when she raises her head over, you see her eyes shimmer a twinkle in adoration to the hot pink blush spread across. Hand caressing your cheek, cherishing the obscene picturesque look of her friend beneath - wanting to freeze this moment in time and capture it behind a screen. 

The last shot for the video was capped off with Yujin’s thumb caught between your lips, eye mask covering the upper half of your face for insurance, then she tosses the phone somewhere on the bed. Lifts the eye mask and smirks in approval. 

“That’s my good girl.” 

–

Despite the short sprees of intimacy, it’s a bit humbling to remember that the relationship between you and Yujin is- 

“Thanks for doing this with me again. People really liked the last one we did and requested for another.” She says to you, slapping the side of your thigh. 

-mostly transactional. 

You chuckle at Yujin, watching her plop down over your leg. “You texted me first, plus the half of my cut the first time was a lot more than I expected.” 

Yujin ruffles her hair, pulls out the purple dildo left on the bed, sets it next to another sitting on the nightstand. She examines them closely and brushes it aside to deal with later. The phone she tossed is back in her hand and quickly reviewing the footage from earlier, showing care for the quality and checking to see if anything stands out to her. 

“I liked the bandana mask from before,” you say, leaning to her side and feel her hand pat your face. “The eye cover was even better, removing one sense and elevating the others. What if we-” 

“Are you asking about the ski mask now?” Yujin laughs, putting the phone closer for a better look. “Hmm, now that you’ve mentioned it, I’ll think about the idea and let you know my thoughts. To be honest, I kinda want Wony to be the one to wear it.” 

“Is that why you got one in black and the other in pink?” 

“Hey,” says Yujin, kissing your shoulder, “She told me about your situation, by the way.” 

“Who? Wony?” 

“What do you mean who?” 

“Okay,” you’re sighing - not because of exhaustion, but because it wasn’t worth brushing aside - especially if one of your sources of income is aware of what's going on. “What did she say this time?” 

Yujin clicks off the phone, twirls it between her fingers. “I’m saying that you should give this a try and make some money for yourself, instead of relying solely on me for half the cut.” 

“Tempting, but I’ll pass.” 

“Why?” 

“Money is one of my issues,” you admit, knees to chin with a lowered gaze at Yujin. “I never liked the concept of putting my body on the internet for people to rub one out - just doesn’t sit right with me.” 

“You do realize there’s other ways to get cash, right?” 

No shit. You’re mouthing. 

“If you really sit and think about the options,” Yujin continues, holding the phone in passing before taking it back, feet on the floor and shuffling over to the bathroom. “A decision would’ve been made already. Besides, for your case-” and Wonyoung's words ring again, “it could be worse.” 

You rub your cheek, get your eyes full of a stretching Yujin and her swaying ass (since you have nothing else better to do) and take the advice: think. 

“Well don’t just be moping around on my bed,” you hear her say. Watch as she lets one of her arms slide up against the doorframe. An art piece forming in real time - the kind you would caricature instantly with your irises. “Come wash up with me.” 

–

Wonyoung and Yujin both tell you it could be worse; when that phrase is said, it’s (somewhat) comforting. Then you look at your bank statements and the hope is sucked right out:  

Rent was due at the end of the month. 

The utilities were just paid for, thanks to whatever was left from the recent loan you pulled, along with the decent tip money scrounged up to cover for other important necessities around the house. Lighting was also another debate since that could be solved with a few placed candles around the apartment for way less; the internet was already covered, and that one was a given. You purse your lips at the water bill; cheap and as it should be. You didn’t have to use it more than you liked or needed but- the fucking rent.

The fucking rent wasn’t something you could bullshit your way out of. 

Most of the wine sitting at the coffee table’s been ran through, watching the minute pass on the computer screen. A check of the phone on your lap, contemplating. Yunjin did tell you to not hesitate on asking- 

No. You knew your cousin didn’t have much to give on hand, and you couldn’t expect her to keep spewing out dollars upon dollars for every instance you catch yourself wanting- or needing, not when she herself needs it more. Not while she’s the one who gave you the heads up of how much grad school would cost, proving her point like she had said. You just can’t. It wasn’t right for doing that to her and being okay with it. 

The issue stands: you can’t pay rent let alone live in general. Your landlord’s been on your ass for last month’s payment as it is. 

So you lean your head back, sigh, pinch your temple on both sides, frustrated. Scratching your head and grinding teeth. There’s no easy solution to this, and you don’t know what to even do. 

You’ve been living like this for as long as you could remember, compartmentalizing. Focus on not letting one part of your life take over the other. School shouldn’t bleed into your social and work life. One bad exam grade doesn’t give you the luxury to sit in the corner of your room and panic. There was one thing - only, one thing to do: get better, improve from yesterday, and spare the emotions. Find a groove. Yunjin kept preaching to you through college: “find a groove, and stick with it.” 

A groove. Staring into the black void of your phone. If you can’t find a groove, then make one. 

“It could be worse.” 

You inhale, click your tongue, feel the rush of blood in your veins. Adrenaline pricks at your nerves at the slap-down motion of your laptop and swap of the phone, tapping the app store icon. The thought fills your mind somewhere along the lines of: ‘look, i don’t want to, i don’t need to’. Then again, you have to, because you never have enough of the money, and a second job - on top of being a full-time grad student - that alone still won’t be enough; it’ll never be enough. You have to. You’ve got to. Rent stays due once the sun goes down. 

A nail taps the screen on the rosy colored app, downloading. Once installed, you push past the idea of tossing your phone across the room and forget trying; go to the balcony and just get rid of it entirely. That’s just another expense to pay off, and you can’t afford the current one either. 

One sip of the wine, you swallow your ego and make the profile. 

–

Matches start spilling in like emails, and your phone’s receiving a disgusted look from you. 

The line was already drawn pushing 30 and above; plus the idea of talking to someone older than you was a big no no, even if it’s for a simple dinner. Most of the women you see are very unappealing. Most of the superficial profiles are either cookie cut with a short synopsis of their life and skeevy. Worst case scenario and all, it wasn’t a viable solution in terms of money. 

Disappointment flushes out the last bits of hope you had left, tears almost start coming out. 

(You’ve only had three relationships in your entire life - more or less serious to a degree. Two of them were in high school, and the recent one back in undergrad: Chaewon. She was a sweetheart, kind, and very understanding. Sometimes she could come off as arrogant, having brought up most things practically handed to her, but she was a good one, down to a ‘T’. Most of the blame falls on you; because of your high ceiling while Chaewon wanted to take it easy, and you couldn’t make ends meet, knowing that there was a lingering hold. Despite having all the boxes ticked off and encapsulated in a human being, despite the fact you loved her - earnestly, and truly - she wasn’t the one: Chaewon wasn’t the person you wanted to spend the rest of your years with.)

Giselle Uchinaga isn’t a strong pick either, big woop, you’re thinking to yourself here, distancing yourself from the screen, another new notification. It shouldn’t even come as a surprise. 

Like any of that mattered, right? A long term lover wasn’t what you signed up for on the app. 

You click the bolded name. Her profile comes up sparse as it was a few hours ago. With a description of her job: head prosecutor - attached with five photos, none of them were glamorous, but in a tailored blazer or dress. All of the photos exuded an importance, although - with severity. This was a woman who clearly knows what she wants and for her to attain it was all but guaranteed. In the scheme of levels, she’s leagues above a nobody like you. 

So you press the message icon. You expected nothing less: 

Aeri <3: fancy a nice outing with me? 

You: hi! You’re messaging back, brows creased white your thumbs have a twiddling mind of their own. i’d love to have dinner with you! 

Aeri <3: awesome! A few moments pass at the three dots next to her icon, the lump ballooning in your throat as you’re reading: how does this weekend sound? And before anything else, yes. you will be compensated at the end.

The air passes your teeth, tapping the edge of the screen. Heart thumping between your ears, above the ringing. You have the choice to say no, delete the app and convince yourself you never had a part in this debacle to begin with. Click on Yunjin’s contact info and call her. What could cover the cost of your pride anyway, that could suffice this? 

Too bad your mind’s already set on what to say before you message back: 

You: deal. tell me the details. <333

–

“A fucking sugar mommy?” 

Hunting her down on campus was one thing - Wonyoung dragging you to the library once she got the bombshell news in pure disbelief was definitely another: “Do you hear yourself?! A sugar mom-” 

“I know!” You’re shushing, looking over the cubicle. And it looks like some of the other students sitting close by seem to have noticed the spike in sound. “Look- nothing’s set in stone. I verbally agreed to go have dinner with her.” 

“Still,” adds Wonyoung, leaning back with a leg crossed, eyes dazed. “It’s you. Of all people, to actually take my advice and- girl you just lost your virginity a while back.” 

“Whoa, what the fuck does that mean?” 

“A vibrator or dildo doesn’t count, by the way.” 

“I was referring to Chaewon!” 

“The same Chaewon you split with three years ago. Case in point,” Wonyoung says. Bewilderment now transferred to you, greatly amused. “You really outdid yourself here.” 

“Only because I took your word.” 

“Yeah! But when the hell do you ever listen to me?” She retorts, palms on her chin and staring. “Well? Aren’t you gonna show me what she looks like?” 

“Didn’t really need to,” you say dryly, pulling your phone out. “Her and I aren’t exactly talking.” 

“Oh but she is,” Wonyoung replies, taking it. You glance from her face to Giselle’s profile, expression shifting to a slight frown. “She’s pretty, but I don’t know-” 

“Don’t know what?” 

“Well- I mean…” 

You tense, nick your head. “You did say, some women will pay for company. She also said there’s compensation for the dinner but that’s about it.” 

“Sounds good enough,” Wonyoung chuckles, scrolling down the exchange, stopping at a selfie you sent to prove that you were a legit human and not an ai: per her request you might add. “Any idea what you’re gonna wear when you see her?” 

“Maybe a simple cocktail piece. The restaurant she suggested is at a hotel. Probably nothing too crazy.” 

“Honey, I’ve seen your closet. Not a single cocktail dress in sight.” 

“Uh, the dark blue one. Where it stops at the shoulders.” 

Wonyoung’s face is written with shock. “The same dress you wore to senior prom? When you were seventeen?” 

“What’s wrong with it? I think it’s nice.”

Wonyoung then slaps her hand down on the table, gripping your wrist. With a look that makes your middle clench from embarrassment; the kind of look that entails a variety of her statements and the difference in priorities, the obvious gap between classes. “No offense, but you’re fucking gorgeous. I think you’d look dashing in a threaded burlap sack; but with that dress? No way. Not at- what was the name of the place again?” 

“The Astoria.” 

She then lets go of your arm in a slapping fashion - like she’s disgusted to touch you, a passerby looks down at the both of you. “The Astoria? My god. Fuck no. I’m not letting you step out of the apartment if you’re gonna wear that dress, especially if it looks like you just thrifted the damn piece.” 

Fair to her for calling you out, since she was right. No point in arguing. “It’s not like I have anything else to fall back on.” 

“I have a bunch of dresses I don’t use. I’ll lend you one.” 

“It won’t fit. I’m your height but your waist is more defined than mine.” 

“That’s true, so it’ll fit!” Wonyoung beams with hands on her hips. 

“Yujin can also be of help with her opinion.” You suggest at the thought of it, shrugging.

“Go ask her! We have a similar frame and she should have something for you to borrow.” 

You slouch on the comfy seat, uncomfortable. It wasn’t your style to ask for anything. “Is that fine? The dress I have should be fine-” 

“Believe me, it won’t. And Yujin adores you but also loves having fun even more. She’ll be hooked if you text her right now.” 

“I’ll take your word,” you remark while Wonyoung speeds to her best friend’s contact info, fingers moving at high speed. A millisecond passes before she smiles and puts the phone in your eyes. You can see the dry reply - quite predictable, too - since she’s busy working and not with you two: i’m down. have her come over later and we’ll see what works. 

“Odds are she hands you the black one.” Wonyoung tells you, mocha eyes shimmering, the muted lights from above enhancing the effect. “I bought her that a while back. It’s a bit tight at the hips but it makes the shoulders pop, let alone wrap around the neck. Oh- you’re gonna look so hot now that I’m imagining it.” 

“Hot is one thing,” you laugh, face flushed. “It’s just-” 

“Dinner, right.” She nods, texting. “A first impression on a date is always important. When is it happening?” 

You cringe at the word date, leaving an uneasy feeling in the chest. A twisted formation so perverse what romance is in today’s world. “Friday.” 

“Sick. I’ll grab the dress and head over to help. You’re gonna need my makeup too, if you’d like?” 

You blink at Wonyoung, heat rising on your face. You could’ve said no; you didn’t know how to. How to remind her that this was transnational, and there shouldn’t be any excitement towards this. Before you can even utter a word, Wonyoung clasps both your hands, grinning. 

“Ooooh you’re gonna have so much fun!” 

–

Friday comes around quickly, leaving you little to no time to prepare, but Wonyoung arrives exactly as she said. Right at 7:30 pm, smiling at the door with the dress in one arm and the makeup bag in the other. Waltzing in and flaunting her hair, dressed up as if she was the one going out. 

Hanging the makeup bag to her head. “How do you want to do this?” 

–

Now in your bedroom, last from the kitchen and bathroom down the hall. Wonyoung sets the bag on your bed before turning on the vanity and settling in on the seat. Pulling a pouch with the assorted products, in all name brands: the eyeshadow, blush, bronzer, eyeliner pencils. Chanel, MAC, Dior, YSL. 

“Are you excited?” Wonyoung asks cheerily, hair neatly done in a low, messy bun. “Hm?” 

“Not really.” The answer alone comes out easier, in truth. You’re not excited, clearly. You’re- “Terrified.” 

“Huh? Why?” 

“I don’t even know the woman.” You plop on your bed, sighing, looking at the dress then shying away since it’s haunting. “Her and I have only talked a bit. She’s way older with a status and rich and-” 

“And?” Wonyoung asks, swiveling to you. “You’ve met my sister and dad. Both equally important, not to mention- one’s a board chairman and the other’s a full time model.” 

“You see- that’s different, Wony. I’m not your dad’s sugar baby.” 

“No I know, though-” 

“I’m being serious.” You snap, nerves thin, as they have since you agreed to the date in the first place. Since you were running on fumes money wise as there was no other option but this. “Going out with a complete stranger for money? I can’t tell what’s gonna happen and I’m fucking scared.” 

“Right.” Wonyoung yields, sobering. All her humor soaked up in a second. “I’m sorry for being a total bitch.” 

You mumble an apology, steering your head away, embarrassed by the harsh tone. Wonyoung stands up and shuffles her way to you. Grabbing your shoulders, steeling a sharp look. “Do you want to call it off?” 

“What?” 

“Do you want to back out?” She repeats. “If you’re feeling uneasy, you can cancel it. There’s nothing wrong in doing so.” 

“I- I don’t,” you look Wonyoung in the eyes and down at the floor. It’s been a bit overdue for a cleaning day, but you’ve been caught up with other priorities that overshadowed a simple chore like that- 

“No. I can’t. I can’t do that.” 

“There’s always another way to make money. Why don’t you call-” 

“Call Yunjin and ask her,” you say dejectedly. “I’d rather sleep with Giselle than ask Yunjin for her help.” 

Wonyoung pulls a grin and stands tall with her hands up in surrender. “You did say it was just dinner, after all.” 

“Just dinner,” you’re sighing, relieved. That’s the truth. The only truth. If she expected more, it would’ve been brought up by now.

“Okay.” Wonyoung smiles, crossing her arms. “Let’s get you ready, then.” 

–

The uber - paid by Wonyoung - sends you off to the Astoria right at 9; just like Giselle said she’d be there. 

You wave off the driver as they roll away, tugging the coat tightly around you. Beneath the layer was the black dress, stopping right above the knees, still tight. Tighter than expected, but you’re reminded of the item’s true owner. You have always kept yourself in shape, aside from the hips and breasts are- defined, for a better word. At the ripe age of eighteen and the history of finding the correct bra size since then. 

Yujin and Wonyoung, both tall and slim, like couture models. Thus, the dress lent to you would be a more snug fit than you first hoped, stretching at the swell and lifting your breasts up a few inches than what you’re used to. A better description would be one of those mannequins on the window, and the thought clouds your mind once you step inside the pristine hotel, palming your stomach to relax the anxiety: owned. 

You’d rather plaster the marble floor with your earlier meal. 

A lady at the desk motions you to the restaurant once you ask. While walking away, you wonder if she can sense the regret wafting off your shoulder. Plus if she noticed, what does she think? This wouldn’t be the first time she saw a girl like you. Look the way you do, with cheap heels and expensive clothing, handed down from refined women. How old would they be? Are they younger? You can’t shake the feeling. Someone like you who’s young and resorting to this. 

One of the hostesses greets you with a smile. “Good evening, ma’am. Are you meeting with someone?” 

“Yes. I believe there’s a reservation?” You answer, rushed. “Giselle Uchinaga. Said to come at 9. Is she here already?” 

“Let me see.” Looking down at the iPad on the podium, scrolling down. Her brows furrow, then her gaze returns. “Ah, got it. I do see a Giselle Uchinaga on the list but she hasn’t checked in.” 

“Oh.” You breathe, ignoring the relief rushed down on your body. “Can- is it possible for me to wait for her at the table?” 

Her face goes sympathetic. “I’m sorry. I’m afraid I can’t get you seated until we have final confirmation with the person who made the reservation. Just to ensure no tables get mixed up or stolen.” 

“Ah. Er- so, do I just wait? Or leave?” 

“We have some seats open at our bar in the meantime,” the hostess tells you, hand directing you to the left. “I assume it’s only for a couple minutes.” 

You give a smile and say thanks, heading for the bar. Angled adjacent to the main tables. The appearance is like the hotel: opulent. Most of the counters are coated with a dark shade. Stools are golden to the ground, the cushions soft and velvet when you sit atop it. A woman with pretty features smiles once the bearings are in place. Thankfully, you aren’t the only one sitting at the bar. “Hi. Can I get you started with anything?” 

You pause for a second. Drinking wasn’t on the agenda tonight. Not to mention you’re a lightweight, and you didn’t want fluids in your system that could hinder the sensibilities, but- 

“Yeah, I’ll have an appletini, please?” 

She tells you right away and gets to business, mixing up the beverage with efficiency that leaves you impressed. A good distraction for where you are. Soon the martini gets placed in front of you; give a nod in acknowledgement, pinching the straw. “Y’know, I was a bartender too, for a time.” 

“You were?” 

You tweak your head. “Swapped over to waitressing, instead.” 

“Really?” The bartender’s eyes flick down to your dress, now curious. You play the blush off your face. “Nice date planned tonight?” 

“Um, well-” 

Suddenly, an older woman sitting a few chairs over calls the bartender’s attention. She gives you a look while stepping away. You glance over and sigh, preparing a sip of the martini. It goes down quickly, and you’re trying to keep a slow pace going. 

–

Unfortunately, you don’t. 

–

Nearly an hour passes; you’re still sitting at the bar, a second glass now next to the empty first one, and you’re woozily staring at the half-drunken bev. The bartender - Kang Seulgi, aka: your new friend - stands on the opposite side, washing a cup and drying it; a bit clichè for her taste and everything. 

“Should I call someone?” Seulgi asks, concerned. 

“I think my friend Irene would like you,” you tell her, sitting forward; the question doesn’t even register in your head. “She has black hair, a tad shorter-” holding a hand out and in waves above your head, “-plus she’s cute.” 

“I’m flattered,” she remarks. “Don’t remember asking for a matchmaker, so-” 

“A good amount of people don’t ask for a lot of things, but some are given to them regardless.” 

“That’s very honest of you.” 

“Hah,” you laugh and swivel in the chair. “My cousin did say I’m just a gloomy brat with a loud mouth.” 

“Is your cousin around the area? Are they able to pick you up?” 

“Nah,” you sigh. “She lives, like- two hours away. I live here for school.” 

“Okay, then what about your friend Irene? Can she pick you up?” 

“Irene’s studying or sleeping, either one of the two,” you answer, waving her off. A revelation crosses your mind, and you smirk. “I can set you up with her. Show her insta profile.” 

Seulgi’s shoulders drop and stares. “Sure- yeah, lemme see.” 

Your teeth show and you’re fishing through your coat, messily folded on the seat next to you. Pulling out your phone and scrolling down the texts. No message from Giselle, but that was anticipated, long after you convinced yourself about being stood up - which didn’t affect you that much. The loss of money crept your mind above anything else. It’s the reason why you haven’t gone home yet. 

“There,” you’re saying, now on instagram. “Her handle’s cute: renebaebae. You could shoot her a DM.” 

“She’s pretty,” Seulgi smiles, settling a wink. She darts a look up from the phone, slips into the professional demeanor again. “Hello, welcome. What can I get started for you?” 

A woman takes the seat over on the right. She’s set her coat off next to her with both sleeves rolled to the elbow. You notice the length of her forearms, stopping at the silver seiko, moving up to see the mixed wolf-bob cut she has going on. Every part of your body freezes when she takes notice - her brown eyes pool cold, curious. 

A whisky glass is set in front of her. It’s just you and her on this side of the bar. Seulgi is nowhere within eyeshot. 

“I’m sorry,” she starts, “Is something wrong?” 

“No.” You shug her off with another sip. Sadly, she doesn’t have the same regard. 

“You’re drunk, aren’t you.” 

“No.” You look back, holding the glass. “I’m not.” 

The woman huffs, glances down at the seat occupied by your coat, motioning a silent inquiry. You move the coat to the opposite seat and let her move into it. Her perfume is the first thing you catch: a cozy aroma calming to the nostrils, warm even. The shine of green in her watch reflects from the hazy lights above, sleek black heels and the unbuttoned wrists folded nicely. Like she’s comfortable in this environment - a palace riddled with wealth. She could probably sense the fraudulent appearance underneath your dress, the paper-thin expression on your face and clearly see through- 

“Were you on a date?” She asks again. 

“No.” Playing on the defensive, compounded with regret, and you wished the alcohol kicked in earlier. “What brings you here?” 

“Drinking.” She answers, downing the whisky with ease. Your eyes get full of the bob of her throat while her mouth airs out the burn of the aftertaste. “Also had a late shift, some last minute calls,” she tells you, lips tugged. 

“A meeting at the Astoria?” This might be a bigger deal than you thought. 

“Actually, it was a meeting at the J Medical Center followed by a small team dinner. A majority of my coworkers are stingy guys who stay out late and talk about hitting on the nurses so I ditched them to come here instead. 

“Medical- doctor?” 

“Neurosurgeon.” She supplies, soft smiled. “What’s your gig?” 

“Server,” you answer lazily, clearing your throat. “Plus I’m in uni. Grad program too.” 

“Cool. Must be going well, I hope.” 

You stare, tilt to your fist. “You don’t look like the neurosurgeon type.” 

“Says everyone else.” 

“Tell me your age.” You say, and her gaze shifts, enough to slice through yours in one swift motion, harshly. “Oh- I didn’t mean-” 

“You’re not lying when I asked if you were on a date?” She asks once more, and you grab the glass on reflex, turning away for another swig. You know what she meant and unsure to determine if it was genuine or she’s having fun mocking you. She turns her wrist over and presses the latch, taking off her watch, clutching the arm soon after and moving her hand, confessing: 

“Thirty.” The woman with a misleading appearance tells you, “Name’s Yu Jimin. Though, Karina is what they usually know me by on the nametag.” 

Seven years, huh. Good enough, I guess. Then you roll your name off to her. She repeats it, discovering how well it curls across someone else’s tongue, and you’d want to hear it more. “Lovely to meet you.” 

Seulgi swings by, taking the hint with another whisky and martini. You catch her look of reservation when offering - the expenses on the tab tallying up, but why should you care. After the shitshow you just went through, all stress and anxiety pent up, you don’t see any reason to contemplate; it’s a downward spiral as it is. 

So you keep plummeting: “I suggest a toast?” 

“It’s your third drink of the night.” 

“What about it?” 

“I need more than two whiskeys to deal me in.” 

“No, then.” 

“Have you even checked your tab tonight?” Karina exhales, making you wince. “Three appletinis, and a Long Island. Hell, they don’t cost that much, but that’s over a hundred, easy; especially in a place like this. You didn’t come to the Astoria just to get drunk here, did you?” 

Ah, and the condescending tone doesn’t make it any better. So the admission of guilt spills easy. “I- got invited.” 

“Who invited you?” 

“Someone that isn’t here.” 

“A date, then.” 

“No.” 

“So who gave you the invite? ‘

“A person.” 

“Person of your age? Guy? Girl? I don’t wanna assume too much.” 

You smirk bitterly and swirl the glass. “Not my age.” 

“Older, gotcha.” It’s enough to be a conclusive answer. “Let me get this right: it’s not a date, but we have you - an attractive graduate student - invited here by someone years older. Are they? Uh-” 

“A woman sent me the invite.” 

“Can I ask another thing?” 

“Keep ‘em coming.” 

Karina hesitates before her eyes go flat. “Why did you say yes?” 

“For the money.” There really wasn’t any other explanation than that. 

You could feel her gaze ooze over you, in judgement - probably in disgust as well; worse comes to worse, she could tear up the vulnerability and give her piece of mind. To your surprise, she sighs with a curse beneath her breath and rubs her cheek, raking fingers in her hair. “That’s too bad,” she tells you, glancing. Her sympathy leaves you in a slight shock. “I feel sorry for you.” 

“Y-you, it’s fine.” 

“She’s a bitch for hanging you dry, fuck her. It isn’t everyday women make those kinds of decisions. It’s even more insane they don’t put in the time to search for a proper lover and resort to girls like you, the kind who can’t take no for an answer.” 

“Love was never in the equation.”  

Her face frowns, balling a fist. “So it’s sex, then.” 

Your mouth drops. “Not sex. God, no.” 

“If not sex, now what?” 

“Just the presence,” you say, posturing. “Dinner is the common outlier. They pay and that’s it. It’s what everyone’s been talking about on social media these days.” 

“Spoken like true dumbasses. What good does a women get in being a sugar mommy and take advantage of a younger woman who looks like you for a simple fucking dinner? Where’s the connection?” 

Karina’s words mince your heart into shreds. All of the things she’s saying is the truth you’ve been blindly denying for the past week and a half, and you’re beating yourself down for thinking you could be at their level; to have full pride in their wallets, like Wonyoung. 

“Did you drive here?” Karina asks, snapping you out of your trance. 

“I, uh- huh?” 

She then stands up, shrugging on her coat. It dawns once the realization sets in that she’s freaking leaving. “Did you drive here?” 

“No, I got an uber.” 

Karina waves a hand up, motioning Seulgi to come back. She turns her head away to whisper a request - the tab, you assume, before turning around. “What time was the date?” 

“Nine.” You deadpan. 

Her lips pull outward. “Not sugarcoating it or anything, but you got stood up.” 

“Yeah,” you shrug. It’s better when she says it like it is. 

Karina adjusts the watch back on her wrist, fixing her disheveled hair, but with an intent. Enticing. Seulgi keeps her gaze as she hands a red, thin booklet, and Karina whips out her wallet. You stare down at the coaster, shying away from transactions. 

“This girl is a waste of your time,” says Karina, giving Seulgi a nod as she swivels to the computer behind her. 

“Among other things,” you relent. 

“My advice is to delete the- app?” She adds on, putting on her glasses with an arched brow. You nod. “Right, the app. I’m not a fan of how it sounds already.” 

“You’re not wrong.” 

Karina steps away, and you’ve got your tongue in cheek. 

Nothing else is said between you too, besides a gentle chin dip of acknowledgement. One heel turn and you focus on her back, sliding away between the tables until she eventually exits. Soon, you’re facing Seulgi again, flinching when she’s holding the same red booklet to you. “Did- am I? Did she-” 

“Mhm,” nods Seulgi, smirking. 

You take the bill away from her hands, letting the red cover’s weathered texture graze your fingertips. Once you open it, the price isn’t the first thing you see, but the cute stack of cash; a couple hundred dollars. Shit- it might be even more. 

Aside from the numbers written on the tip line and the total above it, there’s a note in the blank space below with the penmanship so elegant it’s a mere tidbit of high intelligence: 

“Something for you to help with grad school, although not by much. And for answering most of my questions without getting drunk. 

- Karina.” 

“Gave me a good tip, too. Covering you and her,” Seulgi says. “I think you scored big without even trying.” 

You keep the booklet open, feeling the gentle fuzz off the cash, bewildered. 

–

You’re fiddling with the folded wad of cash, totaling up to six hundred. Six. Hundred. 

A thoughtful gesture by a stranger, and yet you thought being stood up was the craziest part- 

In the purse was the receipt, undecided whether to toss the slip of paper out. If it wasn’t for Karina’s company, her willingness to stay. You would have to call her eventually, in thanks, give back the money, then ask why you - of all people, would even hand that amount of cash to a poor human being; wallowing away in drinks at a bar. It literally makes no fucking sense- 

The buzz of your phone catches you off guard, turning over a shoulder to fish it out of your bag. Wonyoung’s smile appears on the screen, hesitating for a second before answering. “Hi, Wony.” 

“Heyyy,” she answers, all sing-song-like. “I’m with Yujinie right now and you’re on speaker. Go say hi.” 

“Hi, Yujin.” 

“Yo,” Yujin says back. Wonyoung’s voice then returns. “How’d it go?” 

“Well, uh-” you look through your purse, the wad of cash in your fingers, slightly shaking. “Okay, I guess.” 

“Take it that Giselle wasn’t as terrifying as you thought?” Wonyoung chimes optimistically. 

“She- I, she never came through.” 

“HUH?!” You cringe away from your phone. “She never came through?! What do you mean??” 

“Left me hanging. She left me hanging.” 

“Aw, babe. I- I don’t even know what to say…” 

“You’re good, don’t worry.” 

“So we did all of this for nothing?” Yujin asks, shocked. “You mean to tell me I gave you my dress and you went to one of the most prestigious hotels in the entire city and you got done dirty? Fucking wild.” You could hear Wonyoung tap Yujin to settle down but you huff in relent, very much appalled on your own part. 

“Wasn’t for nothing,” you mumble as the line goes silent. 

“Hm? Did you say something, love?” Wonyoung asks again.

“Um- nothing. It wasn’t for nothing,” you repeat. “But I met someone there, and she- 

“She what?”

Telling the tale alone wouldn’t make much sense, but you confess either way in little faith. “I got six hundred dollars from her.” 

You’re left hanging on the call. Picturing them trying to put it together. Until- Yujin bursts out laughing, “Please don’t tell me you made a scene at the restaurant to get that kind of cash-” 

“Yujin!” Wonyoung butts in. 

“I’m just saying! A rich, older woman gives our girl here, money- for free, and not be interested?” Yujin reasons, a valid take all three of you might agree on. 

“Yujin, you-” the stutter dribbles along your teeth while you roll your eyes. “We just talked. That’s it. Nothing happened and plus, she isn’t old.” 

“So, is she cute, though?” You hear Wonyoung ask. 

The image of Karina’s side profile, the unbuttoned shirt, her toned forearms, and that syrupy-sweet tone in tandem with her tongue pops up in your head. “Yes.” 

“Why did she give you cash, then? If you’re saying nothing happened between you two?” Yujin then asks again. 

“It doesn’t make sense to me, either,” you tell Yujin, setting the stack of cash on the table. “My guess is that she was sympathetic to my situation.” 

“Sympathetic?” And Yujin's chortle sounds off on the phone. “You really think so?” 

“She asked me why I was at the bar. Didn’t like the whole summary of it. Uneasy, bothered.” 

“Sounds to me like a real catch,” Wonyoung then says, imagining the smile on her lips; even with the good-willed act, to say that Karina was a blessing out of thin air would be an understatement. You could sense the intensity to her being - a kindness going above natural decency. You still can’t determine if she would do it for someone other than you.

(It still leaves your head wondering: why me? You didn’t do jack shit to get anything like that at all.) 

“Maybe there’s more to it than what’s shared,” Yujin concedes bluntly. “Doesn’t sit right with me why she would be so nice to you.” 

Wonyoung coos in agreement. “What’s the verdict, then?” 

“I’m not sure. If it wasn’t for that, I would’ve said something by now.” 

“My next move would be to ask her why.” Wonyoung suggests, and Yujin makes a sound in disgust, laughing soon after. “There’s nothing bad about being curious.” 

You get the receipt out of the purse and the stack of cash set beside it, examining both pieces of the event to get some theories going. Karina’s name written in cursive is all you see. 

“I wish that weren’t the case,” you mumble, fiddling the pieces of paper. 

–

Curse the optics, for making you think the way you do.

Shamelessly doom scrolling on the app (which you should’ve deleted after the abysmal ‘date’) before you see the unnamed contact and click on the texts to Karina. The blue bubbles on the bottom right fill your eyes, and you should’ve thrown your phone off the freaking balcony earlier: hi! sorry to bother. you remember me, right? from the bar earlier? 

hey. Karina messages right away, just as you expected at this hour. ofc i remember you. how could i not? 

nice. You reply back, thumbs frozen mid text. i think you left something of yours, with me 

it was on purpose

i’m really sorry. as much as i appreciate the kind gesture. i can’t accept this amount of cash 

what makes you say that? 

you’re a complete stranger and the money is a lot

i’d prefer to give it back 

you don’t have to- Karina types before you could even double down on the offer. i just did what i thought was right 

And not even a second later: is it okay if i call you? 

You stare at the lone message, stumped. Saying no would be playing it safe - pass on the chance of hearing her voice not long after she’s given you divine kindness. Doesn’t change the fact, however: she gave you a lot of freaking money. Having a conversation regarding the matter would be the next best course of action. 

You’ll bite at the proposition: go for it. 

–

By fine timing, you’re quick to switch over to the phone app and call the contact, letting the line simmer for a second before it picks up. “Uhm, he- hello?” 

“Hi.” Karina answers on the other end, deep and monotone. The girl had been asleep - possibly waking up just for you. “Do you know what time it is right now?” 

“No- I know. I just-” 

“-wanted to talk?” 

“For one part, yes.” Your ear hears the gentle rustle of the sheets in the background. “Why won’t you let me repay the favor?” 

“What’s the reason for it? It was completely my choice.” 

“I want to. I just- can’t.” You breathe. “Even if I could, I’m not exactly liquid with my funds-” 

“I didn’t give you the cash because I assumed you would owe me; and if I’m being truthful, I didn’t think I’d ever cross paths with you again. Consider me being nice.” 

“I can’t accept this,” you repeat. “Though I admire the thought. This is your six hundred dollars which you worked for-” 

“I can make that amount within a few hours.” Karina replies back. “It’s nothing.” 

“I’m not saying you can’t, but-” you pitifully look up to the ceiling, “Look, as much as I appreciate it. I just can’t.” 

The line goes quiet, then: “Do you ever take kindness from others?” 

“What?” 

“From the gist of it, you don’t like it when people do favors for your behalf.” 

This woman. “You- I, what do you mean?” 

“Forget it.” Karina sighs, definitely pressed. “It’s not like I can make you keep something you don’t want.” 

Now it’s back to square one: “Would you let me give you back the cash?” 

“You could either do that, or just use it for a good cause. Maybe shred the money if it makes you feel better-” 

“God, no.” You say, petrified. “I can just return it.” 

Karina’s end goes silent again. Your toes curl against the hardwood floor beneath and you have this overbearing sensation on your head, waiting for the final answer to be said. And then- 

“Let’s backtrack. Why don’t we discuss this over lunch?”” 

“Lunch?” 

“Tomorrow at 3. Lunch.” Karina repeats again. “Is that okay with you?” 

“Well, I- uh-” 

“If it makes it easier then you can mail it to me. Whatever works best.” 

“Did you just ask me out?” 

Her laugh curls in your ear canal, cracking along the spores in the speakers. Like it’s intentional, deliberate. “I mean, if that’s alright with you.” 

You think back to meeting Karina at the bar, beneath the ambient honey lights. How she gave you her utmost attention while speaking, the way her cold gaze shifted to a more gentle comforting one when she found out why you were down. When you kept your eyes on her as she left, after waiting to be noticed for so long. The agreement passes your lips so fast you barely think twice about it: “Okay. We can have lunch. I’ll have lunch- with you.” 

“Awesome,” and you swear you can picture the smile on her face. “I’ll message you beforehand?” 

“Yep.” 

“Gotcha. See you soon.” 

“Goodnight,” you mumble, and your phone hits the floor once she hangs up. There isn’t much time to process, speed-dialing Wonyoung’s phone number. 

She sounds annoyed, not to mention a gruff the first few seconds of answering. You’re certain her and Yujin were fucking. “What- what the hell do you want now?!” 

“This is more important. I need to borrow another dress from one of you two.” 

–

Forty-five minutes prior, Karina sends a text: gonna need a raincheck on that lunch. i got paged.

You, with your back straight away from the chair, in the middle of fixing your lashes, you look confused at the phone: paged? what the hell happened? 

one of the fucking doctors in my department suffered a freak accident so i had to step in for his shift 

As if today couldn’t be any shitter already, some fucking life i have, hm? 

im sorry to hear that, you reply, with the most forced, sad faced text you could ever pull from your ass: :( 

Like that ever did much to stomach the disappointment rising within, feeling sympathetic. However, that’s not your style as you type. do you actually have to cancel today then? ://

yes. technically, Karina says. its just for lunch. tho i can move it back to dinner 

you’d reckon you’ll be out by then? 

best bet i’ll be off by 8. if you’d want i can swing by around 9 so there’s more time for u in getting ready and all 

You’re pinching your neck, leaning down on your thumb. 

deal :) 

great, and it’s a done deal for Karina’s part alright: see u at 9. 

–

You flinch at the knock on wood when it’s heard, turning back to see the clock: ten past nine. You’re also not a picky person for time, so it isn’t anything to lull over about. 

“Just a second!” You’re yelling down the hallway, glossing over a final check of your appearance. Keeping it mellow with the velvet red dress Yujin loaned you (god bless her, seriously). Like the black one prior: it’s short but fitted, with the neckline right past your upper chest. Even the lipstick’s a matching shade, in red. Wonyoung always said that was one of the few colors you stood out in. 

A quick touch up on the hair at the entryway, and you’re toeing the black pumps. Here’s the moment of truth: opening the door after calming the nerves. 

Karina stands on the other end, hand pocketing in her slacks and the other with a small bundle of roses she promptly extends out as an offering. You cradle them and look her in the eye, seeing her gaze traverse from head to toe. Then in reverse. “Hi,” she greets, and you’re already forgetting the anxiety. 

“Hi,” you say back, sheepish. “Very thoughtful of you. Bonus points for the construction paper.” 

Karina grins in acknowledgement, and you notice the flush of red peeking through the sides of her ears. You take it upon yourself to set the bouquet down to the nearby table behind, biting down the laugh. 

She sees you come back at the door, open-handed. “Ready?” 

“Please,” you reply, taking her arm and wrapping around it, amazed with the mannerism. “Lead the way.” 

–

“Now that we’re here,” Karina starts, menu flat to the table, face motionless and grave. “Tell me about the deal.” 

“What?” You snap your gaze back from the crystalized light strips. The diner she took you to was a little less fancy compared to the Astoria. 

(Emphasis on the less.) 

“We’re not just eating good food,” Karina prods, “Part of this was for us to get talking. In a more proper setting.” 

You huff. “Did I mention your car? I mean, with that price, I swear that’s more worth than my-” 

“Hey,” she stops you. It’s got the same effect as being slapped in the face. “You want to say something. I can tell. Go ahead, say what you want to say. Cut the bull.” 

“Alright,” and props to her for helping you fall back into the mindset - compartmentalizing what matters most: “Why’d you give me the six hundred dollars?” 

“Because I wanted to. You looked like you needed it.” 

“Yeah, but-” you slouch your shoulders with a small pout, “-why? Did you actually feel bad about my predicament?” 

“A bit.” 

“Then why pity me?” You ask, voice solemn. 

“I didn’t.” 

“If you say you didn’t then what is it?” 

“I used to be like you at one point. I understood.” 

“I’m not following.” 

“Dead end job, struggling to make ends meet, bottom of the barrel methods to get cash. Everyone’s who on the track to grad school; regardless if it’s law, medical, public work, the fucking circus- they’ve all come to a point where they realize how really fucking hard it is to get by.” 

You pinch the table cloth from beneath, blinking. “You showed empathy to me?” 

“Essentially,” is what Karina agrees on, leaning back all smug. Your eyes wander in thought. “I thought it’d be pretty straightforward for your sake.” 

“Giving a random person like me hundreds of dollars within an hour isn't as common as you think. Pardon my interpretation.” 

“Would it make you feel better,” she begins, “to give the money back?” 

“Oh, yes.” You answer easily. 

“Why don’t we switch things up?” Popping up another icebreaker in no time flat. “What’s your major?” 

“Karina, don’t-” 

Her hand reaches for yours. All you see is brown eyes in your field of vision. “What are you studying in?” 

You hold your breath. Falling into Karina’s charms wasn’t the plan; Yunjin would have your head if she knew Karina was taking it. But fuck she’s making it extremely difficult, nodding as you share: “I’m working towards to get my master’s in Psychology, and using that to help with kids.” 

“Working well with kids, huh.” 

“It’s cool,” you smile, softening up. “I had a stint in a school district where I worked with kindergarteners and I loved it. Kids are- easier to handle in comparison to people my age.” 

“Wait- hang on, you lost me for a second. Explain.” 

“They’re not complicated in any way,” you say. “Expectations are low, nothing much besides asking for more playtime or water and food. And they’re easy to get along with. They don’t talk much unless they want to and they aren’t super judgemental, so it’s nice.” You hit all the marks, and Karina’s lips are parted with a quirked brow from the facts.

“Amazing you see them like that,” she tells you, thumb skimming your knuckles. “Doesn’t sound too bad coming from you.” Your heart stutters in place and it feels like electricity coursing over your skin. “Very comforting.” 

“What makes you say that? Are you speaking from past experiences?” 

“I’m more in between one and the other. But it’d be cool to have that luxury,” replies Karina.

“You got siblings?” 

“I do. A sister.” 

“Wow.” That’s a new one. 

“Doesn’t seem like it, yeah?” she laughs, “Even though it is. Anyone ever mentioned you’re hilarious?” Karina’s eyeline peaks as you’re chuckling, in moderation. “Are you the same?” 

“Unfortunately I’m an only child,” you answer. Usually you’d stave off expanding on this - the typical turnabout tale of your upbringing, but Karina’s presence robs any kind of reticence whatsoever. “Both of my parents weren’t around that much so my aunt and cousin have been taking care of me since.” 

“Aw,” Karina laces her fingers into yours and clings at the minor pull. “Forget I asked.” 

“Oh- you’re fine,” you awkwardly play it off. “Besides, it was a long time ago. That doesn’t hurt me as much.” 

“Can I ask you another question?” 

“About the situation or more insight about my life?” 

Karina’s mouth quirks at the corner. You study the gaze more with the discovered beauty mark underneath. “Why not ask for their help? Let alone tell them about your problem?” 

“It’s bad enough for me to take money from them. I can’t afford to.” 

“Even in a dire situation like yours?” 

“They would’ve made the effort. I’d just turn them down.” 

“Wouldn’t be the first time,” she sighs, and you flutter your lashes. Getting the menu from the table, you open it right where Karina’s eyes float over the top. 

“My stomach’s empty and I don’t wanna get kicked out for hogging the table.” You jokingly grumble. “We should eat.” 

–

Commiserations to the Astoria, because the pasta and wine combo outmatches the appletini’s by a landslide. 

You’re back in the car; Karina’s motions are flawless - the way she uses the bottom of her palm against the wheel at every turn, her fingers curling the wheel on long straights. You want to feel the warmth of it gliding your skin. 

Seoul is glamorous, just that it’s never not busy. 

“The nice car is one thing,” you breathe, a little tense on the handle. “It’s more of the driver, if anything.” 

“Do you drive around here?” Karina grits, but she knows you’re pulling her leg

“I thrive with the bus and subway.” 

“Thought so,” she tuts, “My advice to you, it’s better to be a dick at the wheel than dead. Or be in traffic for more than three hours. Take my word for it, is the absolute fucking worst.” 

Despite the sarcastic complaint, Karina seems to take your words to heart. Prolonging this outing for as long as she could, as you’re gazing out the window of all the passing streetlights which lead back to your apartment. You also think about asking to stop by a convenience store, maybe sit at a playground, stop the car somewhere that isn’t my house- just don’t let this end. Her car is a haven where you don’t want to leave. 

Her voice also calls back to you, “Hey, you dozing off on me?” 

“No, I wasn’t,” you shake your head. 

Karina cards a few locks of your hair off the gearshift, gaze soft. “Heh, okay. Just making sure.” 

She rolls into an open spot at the front; you’re clinging to the side of your seat, bending leather. You’re also paying no attention to her parallel parking (deliberate as she is). Karina’s open arm - all consuming, in her car, the purr of the engine rumbling softly. The proximity is too much. You can’t inhale without her being so freaking close. 

Her right arm is still open, and she’s noticed. Eyes faded, mixed in the dark. “Thanks for- letting me do this,” she says hesitantly. “It turned out to be pretty fun.” 

“Yeah, same here.” 

You see her lips quirk. “Still gonna try giving the money back to me?” That alone makes you tense, clutching for your handbag, but Karina grabs your wrist, rests it on your thigh. “Look,” and she laughs, “It’s- I- I was just messing with you. I don’t need it, nor expect you to-” 

“Karina, please-” 

“I already told you,” she interrupts. “I don’t want the money back.” Her lip twitches again, towards a grin, and very wicked. “If I’m being honest, you can offer something more valuable.” 

You shake your head in denial, but it’s futile. The more you do it starts to make you think otherwise. “I should. You shouldn’t- I can’t. You’re way too thoughtful to even think of me-” 

Why? Why? This should be nipped in the bud - right here and now. But here is Karina: thumb to your chin, eyes leveled, melting to her touch. 

“Am I not thoughtful enough?” She asks with a hushed tone, but you’re frozen to even listen. Your body moves on its own, mouth open to proffer, clasping her hand on your cheek, and she meets in the middle - your bleak plea down her throat. 

Karina’s whole being intensifies as she kisses you. Hand now deep into your hair while the other holds your thigh. Your body feels tingly - like little needles pricking your insides, growing with every second your lips are on hers. It’s been so long since you’ve felt like this, and even Wonyoung would agree. A welcoming tongue, against and so willing- so eager to pry you apart. 

The rush consumes you, so much that you try to shift over to the driver's seat, but Karina stops your motions, pushing. She breaks the lip lock to get them on your neck, grab a more salivating taste through your skin, smiling at the passing sigh from your mouth. You tense a lot when she’s nipping- and sucking the sensitive pulse point. 

“Hmm,’ she hums, grinning as she moves her way up. “A little forward, are we sweetie?” 

It’s a full whiplash coming from sharp words cutting her mouth. Karina’s barely laid a finger and you’re fucking desperate. So she doubles down at the opening, hand well pressed against your groin you’re grinding on the jagged palm. God forbid if she let you touch yourself, you’d be off the edge, but you’re also thinking she wouldn’t do such a thing. 

Karina’s tongue laves your throat, alternating between the sucks and nibbles she continues to please. Her fingers pull gently in your hair - a marionette in her own right. Slowly adjusting her hand to your slow grinding, experimenting and exploring. Doing everything in her power to not touch you. And it’s about to cut the coil within you - at your legs. The friction between your hips, a measly little dance curated by her, waiting for the right moment to swallow you up. 

And when she pulls the swell of your lower lip, it rips a whine within you. “M-more, please-” 

“What do you need? Tell me where,” she says, tugging the endline of your dress, another tease. Her hand slides up the inside of your thigh. “You’re so good for me, baby. You want it here?” 

“Almost, fucking-” 

“Guide me,” instructs Karina, consumed by your needy eyes, voidless as they’ll ever be; and you’re despising every second into the madness, how she keeps her gaze trained, it won’t be enough till she has all of you.

To hell with the suspense, taking Karina’s fingers and slipping it beneath your panties, forcing you to spread wide. Wider. You were so afraid she’ll just leave you to your own devices, so high in the position of power, she’s caught off guard to the point she just groans and kisses you harshly, pinching your clit in the process. 

“There she is,” she rasps, loving this new version of you. Her fingers electric across your skin sends your head back. Craving for more force- more friction, and she takes, in awe and pure delight. “You’ve been waiting for me to do something about this-” 

“Fucking right you are-” 

“You need more- because you can’t cum just from this, no way.” Karina smiles, voice buried in your cheek. Her thumb pinches your clit as her two fingers glide along the leaking slit, and it’s fucking amazing. You could almost feel it, the taste alone worth the torture- 

She positions her fingers over your clit soon after. The first circular motion is slow, in measurement. Her forehead against yours and eyes wide open. She’s willing to learn what takes you to the brink, and you know well enough that it isn’t this- not yet. Your hand is quick to grab hers and you rut your hips deep to where she can bend the digits. 

“There- fuck, I like it there. A little fast-” you sputter, losing your head. “Keep, keep-” 

Karina siphons the remaining air, biting down on the words with another kiss. Her fingers increase in pace, holding the butt of her palm to your clit when she slips one inside, stretching little by little. You grind down, get it deep. Hell- you’re mimicking a thrust for the fun of it. You’d wish she’d just throw you to the backseat and fuck you with more than just her hands. 

A hot thought as that might be, your cunt clenches around her hand. She exclaims over your yell, holding your head close. 

“You’re a needy one when it matters,” hisses Karina, getting her fingers inside where you want them to be. “Are you always like this with other girls?” 

The pressure in your stomach is familiar. You’re chasing it- a full sobbing mess while Karina’s head is against your collarbone, mumbling listless things. You’re fucking amazing, honey. Beautiful. So lovely for me. Jesus- just like this for me? 

“You’re so good,” she adds, amidst the stream of endless praise. “My lovely girl. So perfect.” She makes you lose it. That smothering heat, washing all sense away. You’re shaking in Karina’s hands, holding her shoulder as you ride out the orgasm, kissing sloppily and slowing her embedded fingers. 

When you’ve calmed down, you gaze down to see the glossy strings on her digits. You’re even sighing in relief at the sight of her cleaning them off, but you wanted more. Even before you could think where to strike next - hands quick to her belt, set aside with her lips in interruption. 

“Please,” you plead, unfazed with how much you’ve said it up till this point. “Let me- make you feel good. I want-” 

Karina clutches your hair and pulls you for another kiss, enough to slide the words back down your mouth. It’s all mush in your brain. Your body pliant- 

“Not now,” she says, holding herself firm. “Promise. I’ll let you make it up to me next time.” 

“Next?” 

“You heard me,” she laughs, thumb to your cheekbone. “Besides, it’s late. Rest is important for you.” 

“Yeah,” you blink. “Right. Okay.” 

Karina catches your lips, then pecks your button nose, leaning to open the door. She watches as you shimmy out with an unsure step; see her wave from the window at the foyer. Once she drives off and you’re inside, you rush to the door and try your best to ease the swell building in your chest. 

You’re grabbing anything within reach: the door, the wall, kicking your shoes off and staggering your way to the couch. Every move is all routine at this point; seeing the lights, but still can’t think past the cozy warmth in your mind. A short second to contemplate, and you’re giggling. 

Relief. Relaxation. Whatever you’d like to call it. All you can remember is the grip of Karina’s hands - the taste of her lips, how her perfume smelled. Everything about her now is worth value - valuable enough you want to keep. 

“Next time,” you mutter. It’s stupid and giddy. “Can’t believe she said that.” 

The buzz of your phone vibrates behind you and you grab it instantly. Your face suddenly becomes warm again at Karina’s text, reading: goodnight. Typing up a response, another ping from your checking account gets your attention. 

to help you w classes, the message reads. Next to it was an amount: five thousand dollars. 

(Yes, five with an ‘f’. You can put the zeros together easily.) 

Your hand trembles, back flush with the door and sinking to the floor. You can’t stop blinking - even with the facts settling in- 

That night, when you crossed paths. Karina felt sympathetic once she learned why you were at the bar. Saying Giselle wasn’t the right person- faintly implying you deserve better. The money was an act of goodwill, in kindness. 

“To help you,” she had said earlier. “I don’t want you to pity or refuse me in doing so.” 

The impression alone might have been enough - to convince yourself that Giselle had simply been one-upped. 

–

Karina stops by your place next week. In far more casual attire this time around. 

Then the second. On a Saturday morning at the farmer’s market because why not? 

The third and fourth times were on alternating days - despite being between fifteen to thirty minutes on her scheduled breaks (plus you’re ignoring her trek to and from the hospital, which you’ll applaud the effort). 

Frequency increases, much to the point where she’s stopping at your doorstep every day she can. 

When she leaves you breathless with a parting kiss on the sidewalk, and rolling away not long after. You can’t help but think. It’s too nice- too easy. Her lasting tinge of her lips makes you crave it, and her- 

(There might not be much to read into at all.) 

–

You’ve been in this position before: sprawled on the bed, the room dimmed in muted lights, filled with the mix of smacking skin and heaving pants. 

The sheets crumple at your grasp underneath you, sitting yourself up as best you could, gyrating your hips to match the pace of Karina’s fingers inside your cunt. She then buries her other hand in your locks, pulling you in for a kiss that keeps taking. For a second, then it’s your parted mouths and quick breaths. It’s sweet, grounded. 

The tightening in your stomach starts to weigh down deep, falling back on the bed; the pressure overshadows Karina’s presence, but she’s here to go along with what your body’s showing her. Soon her arm slithers behind your back, lifting you, cupping your cunt while you feel her mouth over your already-marked-up chest. 

“One more,” she breathes, in a ragged voice. “You can give me one more, sweetheart.” 

She’s chasing that high you gave from her sitting on your face, seeing her eyes crinkled and posture buckle, grinding her pussy lips all over your mouth. Tongue splitting her open until she’s lost all feeling in her lower half. In the end, you learn that Karina wants things done her way - resulting in two orgasms back to back: one when you’re bent over on all fours with a strawberry-shaded ass and the other just now flipped over your back. 

Not even a chance to let you breathe, mind you. But you’re relishing in it; you still are, in all the ways that matter to her. 

You feel her fingers slide in your slit as you’re still sensitive, shimmying the way down till she’s at a stable pace - until she gets rough and brings you back to the edge once again. A divide and conquer with a hand at your cunt, the other at your tit, then her lips capturing yours. Your brain’s all foggy you don’t realize her burying nose at your clit, lapping up what remained from the earlier high. 

“I fucking adore you,” she mumbles, barely. Hand to your hip and forcing you to arch at the suction. You swear, and that fucking mouth- 

“You’re amazing,” Karina praises, and it sends a chain reaction to your nerves. The affection curdling in your entire being. She doesn’t let up in fucking you, mouth and fingers working in their verison of holy matrimony, and soon you’re letting go. 

At this point you’re fucking whimpering - hips bucking and twitching along with the rest of your convulsing body, letting the ecstasy flow without a fight. Karina keeps ramming her fingers, letting you feel: it’s at the bottom of your throat, the curved spine, the uneven switch from slow to fast. And when you’re finally spent, the ridiculous pull withering away from your core, slick spread dripping to your inner thighs, air cooling your body, followed with a stray lick from Karina’s tongue. 

“Okay. Okay. Relax,” you groan. “That’s good enough.” 

“But you taste wonderful,” Karina mutters, helping you up before treating another go at your neck. Rubbing your stomach and massaging a boob. “I’ve never had anyone clamp around my hand like that, not to mention squirt- ” 

“Karina,” Christ almighty, she’s a wolf in sheep’s clothing. 

“Jus’ sayin,” she chortles, watching you put your head on her shoulder with a peck. Karina helps herself to hugging you, patting some hair and dancing her fingers in various areas of your figure. Tapping on the shoulder, an oblique, grinning into the kiss delightfully. 

“Do you have to go?” You ask innocently. Karina’s face shifts and you feel the disappointment set in. 

“Unfortunately.” That makes you wince. “I have a meeting first thing in the morning. The monthly meeting.” 

“Right.” You can’t even be upset in the first place - especially you forgetting she has a job - but it’s spiraling as it is, adding onto the growing feeling Karina’s got what she wanted and has cast you aside. She notices this, bringing herself close and tapping her nose at the tip of your forehead. 

“I’d stay,” she whispers, “Believe me. If I could, I’d stick with you longer.” 

It cuts like a blade, considering what it meant between you two (and you, especially). You negate the thought, replace it with a subtle mock: “You’re already there longer than here.” 

“Tell that to my superior and they’ll have someone cover me. I’m sure the next guy called up won’t have an issue taking a bullet out of a patient’s brain.” 

“Ew-” you cringe at the new information. “Warn a girl next time, will ya?” 

“Because of what I said?” 

“I’m joking.” You answer that with a finger to Karina’s clavicle, poking her rapid heart, swiping your thumb at her lips. “I am a little worried, however.” 

“Are you subjecting me to a psychology consultation now? Normally that comes after ten, even twenty years.” 

“Issues can occur at all ages. Can never be too late nor early.” 

“Wonderful,” Karina chuckles as she gets your finger between her teeth. “For the record: I’ve been like this. Always.” 

“This, as in-” but the cutoff happens when Karina drags you flat on your back; straddling and leaning down for a long, wanting kiss, breaking away. 

“Your enchantment over me,” she answers, grinning. That alone makes you blush, followed up with a delightful kiss by her. You could feel her lips tap your forehead and down to your cheekbones - even the spots where you want her to touch over and over. Once she meets your lips, you can taste the sweetness coming off it. 

“I really want to stay,” rasps Karina, pulling away, but you hold her close. 

“Stay.” It’s all you want her to do. 

“Me staying equals leaving at four in the morning to my apartment- along with the commute to the hospital while beating early traffic. Plus you told me there’s class tomorrow. You’d sleep in instead of waking up and that means you’ll miss the lecture.” 

Karina’s opinion shouldn’t be seen as an excuse, since she’s right. It’s not the first time it’s happened to you, and that thought burns in your head: that idea of anger clouding your judgement - going through the motions and not thinking twice. After all- 

It’s only transactional. 

“I guess you should go,” you say, calmly. 

“You’ll be fine without me,” says Karina, kissing you. “Get some rest.” She then smothers you with more kisses, stopping at your nose before rising. You watch as she pulls on her clothes, walking around the room to gather her things. Only to return and slide a few hairs from your face, lips to the crown. “Call you later?” 

“Sure.” Karina steers her head to the side of yours. “Be safe, okay?” 

You come against her lips. “I will.” 

With satisfaction, you see Karina’s eyes pulling away; filled with nothing but darkness behind them, hoping to be full of you. That alone makes you want to shut the door once she leaves and bury your face into the bed. You hear her curse once she’s at the door, fiddling with the knob a few times when it doesn’t budge. She clicks her tongue and jams the thing again. 

“You’re supposed to turn it slowly,” you say while sitting up. “Normally I keep the thing half open most of the time.” 

“Well how long has the door been like this?” 

“Since I bought the place.” 

“Fuck me,” Karina exclaims. “Luckily this is an easy fix, I hope.” 

“Wait till I tell you about the water bill.” 

“What about it?” 

“There’s no hot water for me some days.” 

“And you didn’t bring this up with your owner?” She asks, angrily. 

“Multiple times,” you answer, shrugging. “Brushed it off aside because he didn’t want to deal with it.” 

Karina huffs, gripping the doorknob, the hinges creaking from the force. “What a complete asshole.” 

“I’ve got by this far; Karina, it’s fine-” 

“I’m bringing my guy next week to deal with this,” Karina butts in, unwilling to argue. “The doorknob I’ll help you with and I’ll get the shower fixed properly.” 

You wince in embarrassment. “Karina, you don’t have to-” 

“I want to,” she replies, her gaze wistful looking back. “I applaud you for living like this for so long, you should at least make it somewhat bearable.” 

“Alright, I hear you.” 

“I’ll have a repairman see the place.” That being said, Karina manages to get the door open and walks away. Not long after, the front door shuts. You get ready for bed and pat down your pillow, leaning in to get Karina’s scent, curling it as you fall asleep. 

–

(Right before you leave for class, you check your phone to see two things: 

(1). A payment wired from Karina for breakfast. 

(2). The contact information for the handyman she also mentioned.) 

–

“Have you been getting my texts? My calls?!” Yunjin asks the moment you answer the phone, muting your laugh. 

“Hi, Yunjin. I’ve missed you too.” 

“Everything’s okay? School is not too much for you?” She asks again. 

You slouch on your speakeasy chair, socks sliding across the hardwood. You place the phone on the armrest and inhale the aroma of your asahi tea. “All is good,” you answer. “I’ve just been- caught up with, well- y’know: life.” 

“You don’t sound sure.” 

“It’s just school,” you supply. “These next couple years are precious to me, graduate program and what not.” Yunjin hums a sound of approval. “Plus the communication goes both ways. If you feel like calling me, then do it.” 

“Work’s been alright, just busy.” Yunjin defends promptly. 

“Exactly my point.” You remark, sipping your tea, zoning out to different parts of your home, waiting to hear from Yunjin. The both of you tend to yap at times - most of the calls go this route usually: short updates, the long spells of silence; maybe a tad bit of resentment too, but you don’t go that far. Yunjin has her soft side (more than she would like to admit) but holds a high standard in your very different lives. 

Her final question after these conversations: “Is your money situation holding up?” 

“Yes-” is the go-to answer, “-and before you say anything, I’m fine with you, uncle, or auntie not sending me money for the time being.” 

“Tips flowing this time around this year?” 

“Swimmingly,” you laugh. 

Yunjin chuckles, “Good to know you’re holding up. Don’t hesitate to call me, hm?” 

“One call away.” 

“Take care, kid.” 

She then hangs up right as you mumble a ‘bye’. 

–

A bit peculiar when it’s a random one o’clock in the afternoon, hearing a knock from the kitchen. To your curiosity, you’re caught in Karina’s arms before you could even mutter a simple ‘hi’. Her mouth is all over your face and you’re laughing as she shuts the door behind her

“How are you-” you could feel her grin against the row of your bottom lips, “-even here? What the heck?!” 

“I'm on my extended break,” beams Karina, tugging the waistband of your sweats, humming at your whimper. “Though, it was worth coming all the way here.” 

“What about lunch?” You ask.

“What about it?” 

You could feel Karina’s fingers slide up from the little groove of your ass to your waist, pinching. Your breath hitches, toes curling on the floor. “I was just asking.” 

She drags her head back from your collarbone to smirk. “The only thing I have on the menu is you.”

You both laugh, and you let the urge to kiss her consume your thoughts. Fueled by passion, your heel hooks around her thigh, pulling your legs close as Karina’s hand cups your panties, the fabric shifting at her touch, clinging. She then holds you by the neck, leaning down to deepen the liplock - feel her hand grasp behind your ass, hand pressing firmly your toes are curling. Cumming like this would be the fastest way to do things, but you want Karina’s pair of lips in a spot where it’s useful. 

So you yank her by the hair, see her face full of want spilling from her eyes - lidded and far gone she’s practically drooling with her mouth hung open. Karina palms your cheek, grazing your lip. “C’mon,” you beg, moving along with Karina’s hand. “I want you to fuck me-” 

Karina smiles, psychotic. Pins your body hard against the wall - it suffocates you. “So needy. You don’t care about the neighbors complaining this time?” 

You’re blushing brighter and listen to Karina’s giggle. She’s willing to give your request, yanking your body off the hallway and stumbling back to the bedroom. Kicking the door open it slams into the wall. 

It’s all out of pure giddiness when Karina pushes you down so she’s the first one to get her clothes off, tossing them one layer onto another - ripping off your sweats and clutching your head for another kiss. Tensing up as her fingers tap the wet fabric of your underwear. 

“Fucking tease,” you grit, heat rising to your skin; every move of muscle another ache to satiate for your own pleasure. “I’m gonna go insane if you don’t touch me.” 

“Well we can’t have that, can we?” Karina says, eager to be the overseer of your own undoing. “Especially since you’re a lot rude compared to before,” she tells you, closing the proximity, right as you’re pushing for more, when suddenly- 

The power’s cut off from the place. 

Karina stops her movements, looking up. It is out of nowhere, just to be clear. So you’re just waiting a few seconds for the lights to go back on. As uncommon as it is- well, the building is a bit outdated by twenty years, and the aged wiring has been mentioned, but the apartment’s still dark. 

“Are you fucking serious?” You huff, pleasure now flushed from your body. You tap Karina to move. “God, I swear I- ugh, what the actual fuck-” 

“What happened?” Karina asks, and you’re off the bed and into the kitchen. You swipe the small stack of envelopes from the coffee table to scour, squinting because of the lack of proper lighting. You then grab your phone and turn on the flashlight mode. Karina hovers over you, concerned. “Is everything okay?” 

“My electricity,” you say. “I think they upped the amount to pay and I gave them the old amount in short without checking. It sucks but- I thought they didn’t say it’ll happen till the following month-” 

“Ah- it happens, don’t worry,” remarks Karina. She pats your shoulder and kneels down to your hunched state. “If you just explain and pay the remaining amount, they’ll be fine with it. Best that I can assume.” 

“There’s just one catch, I-” 

Don’t even have the cash. You stop your mouth, and exhale loudly. Karina can imagine the look on your face even when she doesn’t see it; you could feel the anxiety rise up to the air. 

“You just need help-” and that’s what scares you: the implication. “I can, if you let me.” 

“Karina, it’s fine.” 

“It’s not fine.” She snaps. “I can because I want to.” 

“Asking you won’t make me feel any better-” but Karina cups your face. Gazing into your eyes, sympathetic. 

“I’m giving you an offer-” she laughs, and you’re undecided if it’s pitiful - it shouldn’t be. “-to help. You don’t have to deal with it all by yourself.” 

You stare, ignore the alarming pang of your heart. “Okay,” you’re saying, somewhat relieved. 

Karina then kisses your chin before patting your head. “If you have an account for your lease, I can pay it through there.” She checks the time on your phone screen as well. “Okay, I also have less than an hour until the power comes on so I can chill with you until later.” 

“Laptop’s back in the room,” you sigh. “My password is my birthday.” 

“I have a good memory, I remember.” Karina chortles, nodding as she marches back to your room. You smile but once she’s away, your face folds and is riddled with depression. 

–

(Wonyoung phones you, er- or at least, tries to: “So you’re not gonna fill me in until later or what’s happening?” 

“Uh,” you lick your lips, since the ostense sounds pretty enticing. “Yeah, don’t worry about it.” 

“Wai-” and the line goes dead. 

It’s definitely on sight for her when she spots you sometime in the week.)

–

–

Look, if there’s anything you’ve learned about Kim Dahyun: is the fact that she doesn’t spill the whole tale straight away. 

Contrary to popular belief - as her plus one - you might add, her style of being coy and mysterious, always backfires in the end eventually. Yet here you are again: trailing behind or at her side, playing along in the usual antics she puts up to ease the boring periods of these stupid events you’ve been forced to be dragged along. 

“Suits and ties, and flashy smiles. That's all they are.” She had said to you hours before, sitting on your desk with her veneers up on high, ankles crossed with heels, wearing the tightest dress imaginable - the kind of dress where it shows just enough skin to get people’s heads turning. 

A shame that white was her ideal color too, since you and her both know very well how good she looks in it. 

(Your dress shirt in the morning or in a different dress at night, there’s no difference between them.) 

Speaking of which: 

“It’s a splitting image,” you’re telling Dahyun, head at an angle, squinting in the dimly lit room. “I swear she was just in a white dress the other day. When the hell did she get the lapis lazuli piece?” 

“Beats me,” she replies, tugging your arm closer to her, finger directing your gaze as the second crown jewel of the night takes center stage. “I know you’re not denying it, but she’s pretty too.” 

“That makes two of us.” 

Smug smiled, Dahyun brings it upon herself to swoop the drink in your hand, down the leftover alcohol while the events at the opposite end of the room takes up everyone's attention. You’re part of the viewing crowd too, watching in wonder and from afar while the underlying ambiance of people conversing amidst the host greeting with the proper niceties like any other person would have when opening up the occasion. The lights dimming above with the scattered camera flashes the only sight visible to your eyes - aside from the recipient of tonight’s many awards.

“I still don’t know how you do it,” you remark, chuckling. “These outings - gala’s even. I mean- it hasn’t even been that long after you got the confirmation for the role, not to mention the invite-” 

“To be honest, I don’t really know either.” Dahyun agrees, placing the empty glass to the passing server with an empty plate in hand, nodding in approval of thanks to make their job easier. Happily going along their way to assess the next area of need. Her eyes mirror yours - paying attention, spectating along with you until the undivided focus diverts to something else worth the time. “If anything, it’s good that you're with me. That way I can’t have all the fun myself.” 

“Gotta spend my nights somehow.” You let your head fall sideways, she meets in the middle. “Rather be here than have your take of ‘rotting away alone at home’.” 

“Nonsense,” chides Dahyun, stomaching a giggle down. “Wasted time with me is time well spent.” 

“That I can concur,” you remark. “Though, it’s worth mentioning who convinced who earlier, remember?” 

“You wanna expand on that a little more?” 

“I can. It involves some hands-on work, actually.” 

“Right.” 

Everything from the events earlier is all panned out in your minds. Something about bending her over the desk and ignoring the call from her manager which almost resulted in being late - she’s not the kind to be on thin ice; as for you, this isn’t the first time this happened, and the warnings have only increased since then. 

(A side of you few people know; exclusively for Dahyun to see. Bless the concealer for working its magic; most of the people won’t even be aware of the band-aid stuck onto her thigh.)

“A mouth can do so much more wonders than we expect.” Dahyun says cheerfully, concluding. Finger to her temple then to the lower rim of her lush lips. 

Can’t deny her overbearing confidence at times. 

“Really,” you say. “You’d reckon?” 

“What the hell do you want me to ask for? A demonstration?” She herself knows fewer words are spoken between her and the other person. “Though, I technically don’t have to say anything to you at all since you can just tell from-” 

You raise your eyebrow; solidifying the point. Nodding. 

The crowd then erupts in a wave of thunderous applause, diverting both of your attention away from each other, seeing the award’s recipient bow before the audience before the event’s emcee steps on, keeping the proceedings flowing smoothly as possible. Most of the sounds are overstimulating as it is, seeing the groups of tables surrounded by people, not to mention the bar station working overtime. The flashing lights. Clamoring of paparazzi wanting the stars to look in their direction. Yeah. It’s a lot. You’ve had the rundown multiple times way more than you could count. 

So you take the sight in. The usual work perk: better to be here than to sit behind a desk working into the late hours of the night, get an adequate amount of alcohol in your system to use the excuse of not being able to come in the next day, or even have the additional benefits traveling places you’d ever dream of going as a kid. 

(In short saying: you liked your job, at least looking from the surface level. You don’t love or hate the gig, but you’d be willing to do what’s needed or asked without a reason or for something in return:

“Stay with me on the set?” 

No problem. 

“Run to the cafe down the corner and get drinks for us?” 

Sure. 

“I’ll give you a thank you note for your hard work. With a little extra prize at the end of it.” 

No need to say ‘you’re welcome’ for that one.

You don’t even think twice about the things at all. Talk about being a sucker for love, leaving out the admission.)

It’s in the acts of service, much contrasted to doing it with a romantical intent. There might be a catch hidden deep within your heart and in those almond pools of hers; you and her had the discussion before, reapproaching it too many times for it to be pinned as a label. She says it’s a lot on her plate as it is - you’re harboring the feelings a bit too selfishly. 

(Yearning and pining, everyone. The few answers to fill for those unanswered questions.) 

And, it’s worth mentioning that for these brief periods of introspection, it doesn’t take much for you to snap out of the usual trance right away. Dahyun tugs the fabric of your coat for good measure, doubled down with a shoulder bump to put the vertigo in disarray, soon she has your attention again. 

“What are you thinking about this time?” She asks. 

That’s one prompt out of the many you find weaseling your way out easily. 

“Well,” you start, pressing the buttoned-up collar up against your neck - negating the discomfort, soak some of the sweat into the threads, have the dry cleaners deal with the rest. “For one: it’s the drink they were passing around just now. And two: definitely the lack of air conditioning in this corner of the room-” 

“So sensitive.” Dahyun laments, offering her small palm to your middle. “That shirt’s choking you as it is.” 

“Ouch.” You sarcastically say. “Always clocking me for no reason. Unprovoked, I might add.” 

“Lightening the load,” replies Dahyun, scrunching the bridge of her nose. Your coat suddenly no longer has a weight on your shoulders, finding its new place on smaller collarbones. Sure, the broad appearance depresses at the lapels, her fingertips are barely peeking out at the cuffs. Bonus points go to you for putting a considerate offer.  

The top button of your shirt gets undone, freeing your throat. “What’s the plan now, miss?” 

Dahyun swivels around, fiddles with the middle button of the coat until it’s in. “After party not far from here. I also think my publicist told me they have a small keynote thing I have to speak about.” 

“Since when has anything ever kept you out of the spotlight?” 

“Shouldn’t you be asking yourself if you’re my publicist or something?” 

It takes two. The playing field’s still leveled. 

But you happily oblige: “Lead the way, ma’am.” 

Dahyun tilts her chin up, the corner of her mouth slightly ticked. Victorious. Some of the people around you two start to make a pathway to the exit. A little homage to Moses parting the sea for his people. 

You’re already imagining the same scenario happening in traffic outside later, and you’re definitely telling Dahyun to keep her feet off the dashboard.

–

Here’s the thing. A clause in the signed contract, written and hidden deep between the lines. 

You realize there’s no proper explanation to the level of engagement - exposure even - in these outings you’ve thrown yourself into. If the briefings prior are to be considered the shallow part of the pool, then the red carpets are without a doubt the deep end, it’s always going to be difficult to determine which one is easier to get used to. 

Yet, you find yourself in the same spot as earlier. Except you’re lacking the usual occupant to your side back at the bar. 

–

“I would like to greet everyone a good evening and thank you to the hosts for putting together-” says Dahyun, the collecting wave of applause scattering in pockets of the audience, “-such a wonderful gathering here tonight.” She then continues, now the center of attention before the occupying room, no short of most likely a hundred guests in the space if not more. The mic stand was casually adjusted by one of the stage workers, which made the appearance look more comical. Though, she bears no mind because she’s used to it on the regular. 

Besides, not much time has passed once you two arrived at the second venue. Maybe a little shy of thirty minutes or something to that degree. You stopped looking at the watch on your wrist as it is - the first sign of how detached you’re slowly starting to become. 

Worth noting the amount of alcohol in your system, leading to a single inevitable conclusion: one drink isn’t enough. 

Luckily, the concoctions being created behind you have already been making the rounds to the guests; another cup manages to find its way to your hand again; this time with a little more kick compared to the main event’s refreshments, but the urge to grab another is a tempting thought. 

There’s also the promising appeal of the balcony to your right - an opportunity to step outside, get some fresh air; you’ve got the dwindling pack of cigarettes in your right pocket, thumb reflexively twitching to ignite the lighter, the second sign of relapse waiting to happen. You don’t know how long you’ll be here, and you’re not the kind of person to push your hours for a faster paycheck. 

Normally, on outings like these - they’re intended to celebrate, commemorate, congratulate, connect - then there’s the secondary layers of networking, creating connections for future projects, attached with the occasional icebreaker through the food and drinks where people are there to have a great time, socialize, share tales of what doesn’t get shown on cameras or what’s kept from being said on the record - the inner workings gradually forming once everyone’s settled in with the job done for the night. 

While it may be a rinse and repeat on a different day, this face in particular does anything but that: 

“Suppose you’re laying low for another hard day’s work?” She asks you, slotting herself into the spot where Dahyun would always be when she’s fulfilled her duties as an attending individual. 

Speaking of Dahyun, she’s still on that stage with another co-star joining her, exchanging niceties and getting showered with compliments she plays off nonchalantly. Again, you told her to take as long as she liked, convincing yourself while walking away she’ll eventually find the way back once her minutes are up on the schedule. Until then, the oddly familiar face next to you is worth passing the seconds for now. 

The girl waves a waiter nearby, nods in acknowledgement as the rim of the glass meets her fingertips, swirls it around while pursing her lips, looks in your direction and offers a toast- 

You’re blinking as the action is mirrored. Ah, okay. She has your full attention alright. 

You begin to see why there was a sudden influx of flashes at the photo-op earlier. This girl was amazing. The headlights shining in the dark with you as the innocent deer caught in the middle. 

A drink like the one in your hand has never been swallowed faster than ever in your life. 

“Ugh,” she utters, the small bump in her throat returning to its normal position, the tip of her tongue peeking out from her lips, savoring the taste. “Gotta say, this is way much better than what they were handing out in the other place.” 

Turns out you’re not the only one who thought the drinks were a little fuzzy in terms of taste. So your face motions an expression of agreement and pulls a light chuckle out the mouth. 

“No kidding,” you reply, examining the glass more closely, set it down on the bar, don’t ask for a second one - there’s no point, every ounce of coherence is needed to keep this conversation going, inhaling sharply for composure. “These have a little more kick,” you add on. Not much to expand as it is, but you’re getting somewhere. 

“Right? It’s just enough to savor, but also not too much for you to end up in the bathroom later.” She pulls her head back, revealing the dips in her shoulders. Her necklace is an astonishing piece to notice, clearly worth in the five-digits. The shade of her dress is also another part of the appearance you’re doing multiple checks in. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed but, some of the guys here are already wasted.” 

Not quite blue, not quite a dark color either. You’re noticing something else here anyway. 

“Hasn’t even been that long.” You’re playing it safe, observant. “The waiters are pretty much vultures in this setting; circling around the crowd until one of them drops to the floor out of exhaustion,” you tell her, checking your surrounding for anything out of the ordinary, the mix of tailored suits and dresses, elegance flooding the floor - filling up every pocket of space where it can. Some people are glancing over and immediately turning the other way, as if you had stolen a piece at the art museum. In a figurative sense, she’s drenched in blue, a siren in human form and she knows what the others are thinking around her. 

“Attention always follows when you least expect it.” 

“Isn’t that the epitome of this industry?” You lift your hand up towards the crowd of people, and higher up to point out the ambience. “Safe to also add there’s a lucky few that get the royal treatment and fawned over because of looks and status.” 

“For all we know that could be you up there,” the woman drawls, eyes rolling and shaking her head. You can tell right off the bat she’s in denial, laid-back and totally doesn’t give a fuck; the kind of person you take pride in confiding in. “In the end, who’s really winning? The idiots who didn’t bet on their potential or the fools who were dumb enough to follow a stupid dream?” The girl runs her hand down her face. “I can tell which side you’re on.” 

“I’ve been around long enough to know where the line’s drawn,” you scoff. “There’s pride in that choice for me.” 

“It’s their job to use me,” she tells you. There might be a double meaning to it if you think long enough. “Just like it’s my job to be of use.” 

“I’ll leave the interpretation for another time,” you nod, swirling the drink like you’ve got nothing else to do. 

Her gaze doesn’t falter when you turn to put your elbows on the bar. “Well kudos to you, I guess.” 

Your shoulders move again, facing towards her, elbow still on the edge of the bar. The rest of the room begins to fade out in your ears. “I don’t need an introduction, by the way. Since I already know who you are.” 

“That so?” 

“Minju.” You answer. “Kim Minju, to be exact,” you confidently say. A smirk tugged once the casual banter’s finally broken in. “Impressed much?” 

Minju gently applauds at the meaningless achievement, smiling and giggling in a gentle tone. “Congrats. I’m assuming you totally didn’t read my name in the headlines let alone a file at your workplace?” 

“There’s much more to it than your name being on the guest list.” 

She blinks. The grin on her face spreads wider. 

A handshake would be a nice touch to the introductions, but you’re past that point, unknowingly pushing to a higher stride. 

“Alright then,” says Minju, threading her brows, teeth nipping the inside of her lower lip. “What else do you know about me? Or have you heard?” 

“Loved your performance in that lawyer series,” you compliment. “Care to expand on what made you want that role in the first place? And is it true you learned sign language for the upcoming movie you’re starring in?” 

This could be drawn up to be a fanboy image, but the interest is in the working passion. You don’t know whether or not the landing is sticking, but that’s just the natural flow of things. Minju herself has shuffled closer to lessen the proximity. You’re giving less care to the logistical side of the job, settling in letting loose since there aren't any plans for you after tonight. You haven’t had much to drink as it is plus this was a good way to keep the schedule moving. 

“My my, so many questions for me.” Minju is a bit appalled at the sudden bombardment in the exposition and commentary you’re spilling. “Are you sure you’re working for the right agency? When were you so interested in making an impression for someone who’s clearly out of your league?” 

She’s noticing the effort, that’s for sure. It isn’t like you to act this way, especially if it’s someone that’s not in the typical clientele you’re used to working with. Though, giving the informative part is easy, no doubt. If anything, this is taking a bite out of what she’s set out on the table; sooner or later, it’s going to take a lot more for her to buy into what you’re selling - especially when you don’t have all your cards laid out in front of you. 

Minju watches you look left to the stage, and that was all she needed to know. 

–

There’s not much to catch up on after. Consider this the transitional sequence - capped off with the polite waves and exit left once the minutes are up on stage. Everything resumes to normal: people exchanging laughs, getting plastered, acting like you’re aware of what’s happening here half the time. Dahyun spots you at your most preferred place and- 

“Nice to see you two got acquainted while I was away doing my ‘obligatory’ duties,” she remarks - her way of weaseling into the conversation with a hand to your arm and chest, presenting you like some prized possession - a one of one. “I hope you’ve been keeping him occupied?” 

“For the most part.” Minju’s face beams the same expression you have and your brows give off a tale of: yeah, that’s usually her thing around here. Though the mood’s already been set even before Dahyun managed to find her way back, she’s also capable enough to slot herself in effortlessly. “He’s a real charmer, this one.” 

“Really?” Dahyun asks. 

You scoff. “Not a chance.” 

“Oh c’mon,” Minju says, and her head twists the opposite direction - noticing the sudden commotion somewhere off in the endless crowd. The three of you assume it’s a good sign - due to the cheers of approval with one of the awards is up in the air. “Never really thought you’d be one to get a little shy in showing their piece.” 

“Piece?” You look at Dahyun, slightly pressed. 

She shoos off the question in ignorance. “Minju doesn’t mean that.” Looks at Minju with a refined demeanor. “She, on the other hand, isn’t new to this kind of thing.”

Minju flashes a brow and that all glittering grin. “He must not be as familiar to me as you say.” 

“And you’re underestimating my potential,” you drawl. “Have we met properly?” 

“Not yet,” Minju responds, and Dahyun glances at the both of you - like a mastermind deep in the shadows, plotting moves on the chess table. “You’re the first person Dahyun’s brought along to and from events, though it looks like she’s managed to keep you around for a while.” 

“Out of how many?” You add. Minju’s chin tilts an angle and Dahyun squints her eyes out of suspicion. It’s interesting enough how the two share the same mannerisms when around friends; the way their dresses are molded to their small waists - a nice curve in the swelled hips, enough for an average guy to do a double take every time they walk past them. 

Dahyun clears her throat then blinks. “Let’s just say you’ve lucked out getting assigned to me for the long-term.” Minju brushes up your left side like she’s someone you’ve known for a while, despite only a few minutes. “May I remind you’re still on the clock?” 

“Is he actually,” an intrigued Minju butts in. 

“The phrase is a practical technicality, but yes.” You shrug. 

“Does this remind you the other time where both of our managers got into a pissing match cause we fucked around with the livestream chat.” Dahyun sticks the peak of her tongue out - another eyebrow raiser. An instance predating your time. The topics switch to the next seamlessly: 

“Oh and the one thing where we-” 

“-or when your bikini pics got leaked-” 

“When you got cozy with your male lead a while back-” 

“-the whole accident on set with one of the staff-” 

“You’re still dancing for fun and hanging out with the girls from your last group-” 

They’re trading memories back and forth, with the deposit for more shenanigans beckoning to be cashed. In all of this you’re just an innocent bystander, fixated on the sudden pressure of Dahyun’s ass against your crotch with Minju fixing up her hair in a tiny, messy bun. The slim line on both pairs of collarbones reeling your eyes and gazing into their eyes. Minju’s cheekbones at the highest peak they could ever be with that photogenic grin; Dahyun looks up from underneath to see and realize you’ve been enamored from the event earlier. 

“That’s right, I forgot. He hasn’t stopped noticing you with your fabulous dress, Minju. Since we crossed paths in the hotel before driving over.” Dahyun declares, in the most roundabout way of letting it known you wanted her. All you do is nod in admission. Then, Minju bites down her lip - eyes unfailing because apparently the girl knows everything. “Speaking of which-” 

“Same hotel, right?” Minju offers. You could imagine the scattered sparkles over her head. “I suppose I can hitch a ride with you guys on the way back?” 

–

The worst part about these events would definitely be the traffic. 

With the streets packed with cars and taxis, waiting for every red light to turn green with the fingers tapping on the wheel starts to get a little more erratic out of impatience. You’re already in a sour mood on the way out because the valet couldn’t stop bitching and there was a scuffle near the door; but your attention isn’t on the road- rather, Minju in the driver seat - on your lap, in fact- feeling your mouth more than you feeling hers. 

“Isn’t this a bit restricting?” Minju asks as she draws back, fingers in the opening of your necktie and pulling. “Looking flustered with a pretty woman on top of you, hm? Or is that the alcohol blushing your face.” 

“It’s a bit confining,” you’re saying (and thinking), adding onto the fact of the growing tent at your crotch - accepting the weight of her ass holding you down - there’s no way in hell she hasn’t noticed it yet- 

“Careful now,” Dahyun jumps in from the seat behind, happily watching. You’re unsure if she’s saying that to you or Minju - there’d be no difference in that regard anyway. “We wouldn’t want to have something bad happen to all of us, right?” 

“Do you know who I am?” you mumble, getting caught in Minju’s lips and her hands doing all the right things to make sure your foot stays on the brake pedal. The light then turns green, stopping at the sudden movement of the car, bringing her knees higher to give your arm more space. “You’re lucky the hotel isn’t far this time around.” 

“Oh? What happened before?” Minju inquires, “Don’t tell me you got pulled over with her sitting on your lap like this.” 

“Almost,” answers Dahyun, slipping Minju’s heels off from her feet, leaving a few kisses on them. Another hint to keep as to what this girl likes - what she’s into. Dahyun wasn’t kidding when she explained what Minju is behind closed doors and she convinced you without lifting a finger to help her along in doing the honors. “Except you wouldn’t believe what the company had to do to keep the headline from hitting the main news birds.” 

Minju gasps. “So that wasn’t a rumor.” 

“Never happening again,” you rebuke, “Trust me when I say that I dealt with her once we got back.” 

Dahyun sighs out of spite and Minju coos. Slipping your tie from the collar and handing it to the woman in the back like a baton. Un-do’s the top two buttons on your shirt, exposing your neck - freeing up the air. The dress at her legs starts to ruck up in loose rolls, showing more of those incredible thighs- shit, they’re on par with Dahyun’s, that’s for sure. 

“Assuming you two missed the flight back home, I suppose?” Minju keeps talking, leans her head on the window, gets more lapis around her fingers. You look down and- okay, fuck- 

She isn’t wearing any underwear. 

“I don’t really remember,” Dahyun answers, and you notice she’s not at your shoulder anymore. A quick look up at the rearview, her posture is beyond slouched, leaning her head back, fluttering her eyes shut - already ahead of what she’s lacking, hoping you won’t make her wait any longer, but for now, her fingers will have to do. 

No underwear for her, either. She really is playing both sides to this plot. 

“It started with something like that,” you say, paying no further attention to the Dahyun fingerfucking her cunt open in the backseat - as compared to the Dahyun from a few months ago, who did the same exact thing in the passenger side before hopping on your lap - the red and blue lights are shining from the rear. Minju’s case however is a bit different: the girl’s running her hand up and down her waist, dancing along your jaw, finger to your lip and that’s an offer you can’t really refuse, so you lick the pad of her thumb, staring at you in awe, building up the profile in how to get you going. 

“You really are a keeper,” Minju breathes, and Dahyun laughs in agreement, sighing - her fingers clamped by her cunt. Yu could imagine how soaked her digits are. You want to help clean the mess up later. “Do you hear that? Sounds like your girl’s enjoying herself in the back.” 

“Is she? Good to know.” 

“Wanna give her a little show?” 

“What did you have in mind?” Playing into the role so easily Minju doesn’t flinch when your arm goes up and under her legs. The wonderful blessing of pairs, they do come in handy. “I’m an auditory learner, by the way. I like to get an idea of what I’m about to do.” 

Minju was about to explain what was about to happen, but your muscle memory had other ideas: palm feeling out the surface of her soft skin over her ass, thumb lazily tampering the end of her slit, and you hear a sudden hitch - the hook of her fingers around your neck press harder in anticipation. “Here’s a hint: Dahyun’s doing it right now, too.” 

“If it wasn’t obvious enough.” 

“You-ah, you’re a smart guy,” says Minju, biting her finger. “Okay, god. That’s- wow. That’s really fucking good.” 

You sink your thumb in deeper, coat it around that warm slick - swap it for a proper finger, watch her (and the road, mind you) melt at your touch. She mewls at the slow place, and breathes carefully. The same woman who had a captivating sense of beauty talking to you and on stage is withering away by the second. 

“Wait- you, fuck.” She grins. You look back again to Dahyun in the rearview, her head on one side and bobbing her head in approval. Nothing more delightful than the gentle purr of the engine - the light smacks of skin to skin a nice plus. “Please, please-” 

Her eyes are lidded and shimmering at the same time. How is she able to do that? 

“Nice to see you’ve kept yourself busy,” Dahyun chuckles, leaning back forward, nose to your temple. Gently laving her tongue at you, nibbling a bit of skin, the first mark of the night. Her hand keeps your gaze to the front, smears her slick fingers across your lips and when you’re at another red light, she pulls your head to her, claiming your mouth as her own. 

The air’s only getting hotter, the fabric of your shirt’s starting to mold to your body. 

Dahyun’s tongue is already addicting with Minju’s keening at your fingers. You feel helpless with the seatbelt around you and time; it’s also worth noting the shared blessing plus curse in being a very skilled multitasker. Minju’s body jolts, crumpling smaller, pinching her cunt from inside and at the clit, her face scrunching once you’ve discovered her sweet spot that makes her yelp. Oh, oh my. You’re saving that for later. 

You wouldn’t want to have any other problem than this. A prisoner sitting up in heaven. Until the driver behind you holds his horn way longer than you’d liked. 

Dahyun then pushes your face to the windshield again. Minju’s granted a moment to breathe. The pair laughing at the sudden embarrassment of you just now. 

“Mind that you’re still at the wheel, sir?” Dahyun grins, departing her lips and hands to shift the focus to the current task. “The agency’s gonna have your dick if something bad happens to me.” 

“I’m counting on it,” you dart back. Minju shuffles her body to a more comfortable position, slipping her tongue into your mouth intentionally - resulting in an increase over the speed limit, and that gets her cackling. “If it means I get to run away with you.” 

Dahyun tugs the stray end of your hair. “Don’t push your luck.” 

“You didn’t cum yet, Dahyun?” Minju asks, tracing a nail on your cheek. “I can’t believe I just got edged.” 

“We’re breaking you in little by little, sweetheart,” Dahyun replies to Minju, “don’t worry, our lover boy and I are gonna take good care of you when we get there.” 

“You promised?” Minju then adds, sounding like an excited little kid, waiting for their reward. 

“Mhm,” hums Dahyun, “Why don’t you give him a little space to concentrate,” she suggests, the blood running through your veins starts to flow much faster. “How about, giving him a proper trade off for getting you all riled up.” 

As if the night couldn't be any worse (for the better, actually), you’re holding your breath - straightening the posture. 

(You’re just happy this happened to you.) 

So far, Minju’s got a bag full of surprises. What she does next really blows the whole aspect right out of the gate - the kind that risks all your lives in the car if it were to end up off the road. 

Dahyun helps Minju off your lap, ends up back in the passenger seat, her dress rumpled amidst the shuffling to get her knees on the leather, elbows resting above the compartment, staring back - her eyes full of greedier intent. Coy smile and everything, without saying a single word. 

“You’re sure I can?” Minju asks, pinching her lip delicately and Dahyun shelters her grin, aware of what she’s about to do. “I’m not gonna kill him, am I?” 

“Oh please,” Dahyun sighs, hand to shoulder, showing comfort to the approval. Letting go of the reservation. “He lets me have my way all the time. I don’t think he would mind.” 

“Not like I can do anything in this situation,” you shake your head, bearing the sudden influx of movement around your pants. Fingers getting a feel at your thighs, then your crotch-

“Looks like someone’s ready for some action,” Minju breathes, nails clinging to the zipper, tugging. The belt unbuckling soon after. You’re lucky she didn’t go for the seatbelt - for safety reasons. How considerate. 

When your cock is finally brought into the mix, her hand is finally able to wrap around the size of you. She’s left in a slight state of shock, trying to come to grips at the long awaited reveal. 

“Jesus christ,” she breathes, Dahyun’s smirk is one you would like to wipe off of her yourself. Minju’s still reveling at the hold she has on you, in ownership. “How do you deal with this?” 

Dahyun’s answer is an open-ended one: “I just do.” 

No warning is given, Minju’s small nose grazing the head, getting one good whiff at the scent. She sighs, and it’s euphoric. Her tongue is the first to have another sense unlocked; the taste, the feel, the sensitivity - it’s a mutual agreement without diplomacy: you want her, she wants you. 

One more look back at Dahyun, the final confirmation. “May I?” 

You could imagine the subtle nod of approval. And Minju’s mouth takes you. 

All of that sensational alcohol is suddenly in the back of your head, replaced with a new stimulation. 

There is a slight bit of resistance - on reflex: your stomach and legs tensing when Minju slides her mouth, brushing saliva over skin. She stops halfway, coughs, soaking  your cock even more. Even though you can’t see it, you could imagine her eyes cinched shut, enlightened to pleasure you more. 

“Wow,” you’re saying, and the hand grips the wheel even tighter. 

Dahyun’s taken the indulging upon herself, pulling Minju’s dress up from behind, revealing those wide hips, and the irresistible ass attached with it. Palm flat - kneading it where Minju hums at the touch, vibrating it down on your slick shaft, stuffing her mouth as much as she can, swirling her tongue all over, adding more spit to the surface. 

“Can you believe,” says Dahyun, sliding her fingers in Minju’s poor, open cunt, “how wet you made her? You should have some shame.” 

“That isn’t my fault-” 

“But it is.” Dahyun tells you with another kiss to your cheek. 

“Damn right it is.” 

“Just listen.” Dahyun instructs you, letting silence fill up the car and it’s all just the gentle ticks of Minju’s mouth taking you in the driver’s seat. Meticulously calculated to the finest point of your nerves, throat bobbing you - getting used to the unfamiliar girth of your cock. To which she does with ease, like a natural. It’s another story for you to ask about the two once all of this is over. Though you don’t want it to end. 

All of the current thoughts are filled with Dahyun’s moans filling your ear, Minju’s mouth slipping over your lap. 

“Everything okay, Minju?” Dahyun asks, and Minju’s lips pop off the tip with an audible noise. Eyes full of you. She looks at Dahyun with the look of a girl who’s discovered fire. Lips smeared with spit mixed pre-cum. Her tongue licking off the remnants is a telltale of a job not finished. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves now, shall we?” 

“I’m just having my fun with your toy, that’s all.” Minju reprimands. “I was hoping you’d believe me when I told you before we went on stage.” 

“Are you done showing him what you’re made of, or are you gonna give him more than he asked for?” Dahyun adds, her eyes lidded once again when she sets them on you. 

“If that’s what he likes,” says Minju. 

Your hand would definitely be rather tangled up in Minju’s hair over the wheel. When you wanted to satisfy that necessary impulse- 

“Ah ah,” Dahyun tells you, Minju taking that as her cue to get your cock back in her mouth again, with much more motivation now carried behind the action. It’s a sensory overload on all fronts: the steering wheel, the windshield, Minju’s mouth lapping up your cock all the way in the velvety clinch of her throat, the sounds she’s making. “Shh, I’ve got you. Try to relax. Take us home, and let Minju be a good girl for you.” 

Once you hear the gags become much more louder, the tip of her tongue teasing the base where your balls meet- 

You groan and press on the pedal a little too much, dancing over the speed limit. 

“Mmm,” Minju moans into your skin. The arch in her back now coming to form, Dahyun’s hand still to the rear of her ass. All three of you are playing into the act - curated by Dahyun’s fantasies. 

She’s so good, Minju. Too fucking good. Ever since you’ve laid eyes on her. Now the pretty sight is her face to your hips, makeup messy, dress left in ruin, both holes occupied by you and Dahyun. 

The hotel’s on the right in the next two lights. You can hold it, keep yourself together. Or- have Minju have her fun - make you burst right her and now; not to prove a point, but to show that she’s up for what you’re willing to dish out as soon as you could get back to the room, put the ‘do not disturb’ card out on the handle and eventually tell housekeeping to come back later - if there is a later. 

These two, they’re relentless. They know you’re wrapped around their fingers and there’s not much for you to do except get them back in one piece. It’s on the assignment, but Minju’s bobbing mouth - Dahyun’s snarky dirty comments of how you’re going to fuck her into the mattress is something that the mangers didn’t mention. Rather the exclusivity perk told by the girl herself, a walking apparition of sin and her sexy advocate. You couldn’t ask for anything more than that. 

“Minju, I swear to fuck-” 

Dahyun doesn’t really falter if you were to speak for your own sanity, Minju keeps on sucking to the point where you’re relying on the sheer instinct of keeping the car on the street, deepthroating to submission, letting the friction of her hand bring you closer to that sweet release. 

Christ. 

It really can’t be helped. 

If the right hand is busy, then the left hand is there to pick up the slack on the wheel.

The way you grip Minju’s hair, push her past the comfort zone, take her mouth in - deeper, where you don't believe she’s able to handle, but does. She keeps the rhythm, peak consistency. Her sly mouth filled with heat. Dahyun notices- assists in the movement, hand stacked on yours and she’s amused. 

“Aw, you really like her,” says Dahyun, guiding her tongue into the cuff of your ear, her breath soothing and alarming. “Makes me wonder whose mouth is better: mine or hers.” 

“Shit, baby.” You’re trying, but Dahyun smiles again when she hears the combined sound of Minju’s muffled remark and your loud moan. Minju’s mouth is a literal dream, deliberately filthy; stuffing your cock, fitting the size in a matter of minutes. The taste of you already addicting and she doesn’t let up on the tension, flicking her tongue on the underside and swapping it with her hand, holding you tight where the grip is almost white-knuckled. Tracing every layer from the skin to the veins, memorizing how wide and where to make you lose control. “You shouldn’t test me like this.” 

“How long are you willing to keep it together for me? For us?” Dahyun asks, biting down a patch on your neck and watching the rise and fall of Minju’s head. Her savagery coming to light, deep within the darkness. “You could cum for our little cumdump and she’d be happy with it.” 

“Mmph,” Minju garbles onto your cock. 

“Fuck-” 

“That’s right,” Dahyun murmurs, a hot wet kiss to the same spot where she nibbled, pushing Minju’s head down and holding it there. “Make our slut earn for it.” 

And then- 

You slam on the brakes. 

The movement was sudden (and forceful). Dahyun and Minju share a reaction: gasping in shock where one’s pulling the other for air, eyes quirking like they’re seeing you walk in on them and the appropriate reaction to stare seems the most reasonable one. Dahyun’s hand is still in Minju’s hair, with you paying no attention and pulling the car into the valet lane of the hotel. “We’re gonna make you pay for that,” Dahyun tells you, letting go of Minju - to where she leans over to get the head of your cock wrapped around her pretty lips once again. 

“Uh huh,” you say, tapping Minju’s shoulder, signaling to stop for now, right when your balls were about to burst. “Help me out and make yourselves look presentable, will ya?” 

Minju rises up and wipes the layer of spit spread from her mouth, jaw slack-open and trying to memorize how your cock fills her throat. She’s good and she knows it. You and Dahyun don’t need any other confirmation to tell you she’s ready. 

“If that’s what you want,” hushes Dahyun, nodding Minju to follow your wishes, she carefully puts your cock away while the car’s slowly rolling in the line. Thank god for the tinted windows, and you’re starting to imagine what the pictures would look like if they got leaked. 

Any more time spent in this car and it would’ve ended up off the street. Minju’s lips capture yours first, and then Dahyun’s after. You can’t help staring, because it’s a pretty sweet view. 

–

(Nobody bats an eye at the three of you at the venue, easily the center of attention whether you’d like it or not. Nobody really bats an eye if it’s the hotel doorman seeing you carrying a girl on your shoulder and heels in your hand - another girl in front of you wearing your coat, happily acknowledging the service as if it’s just a normal night. Doesn’t hide the fact the doorman wished he could trade places with you and be in that predicament instead. 

He holds the door when Dahyun goes first, looks you in the eye with Minju bowing her head from behind in a fun way of saying hello and the doorman gives you this look of light confusion, but also: one of those nights, isn’t it? 

Man to man, you just smirk and nod. No need to elaborate any further.)

–

In the elevator, it’s also a one-way ticket to a destination you’ve been to many times with Dahyun before. Whether to put it as your personal heaven or literal hell, it might be simply considered as purgatory. 

If you were half the honest man you were - have a little more truth to your name, you would’ve gotten to know Minju a little more. Break the ice, learn what her hobbies are when she’s not in front of a crowd or camera. When her laugh echoes in the lobby and Dahyun’s trying her best to keep her quiet - even that is near impossible to do. She didn’t even drink that much to begin with, but she sure as hell looks like it. 

She even looks better on her knees, with the panel behind highlighting all the floors to not make it a one-way trip back to the room. 

“Fucking hell,” you hiss, hand deeply planted into her mocha shaded tresses, wet lips prettily wrapped around your cock, slipping a tongue to the slick, sensitive plane every other second making your grip around the railing a little less pleasant. Dahyun’s also lowered herself, tending to your balls and holding your thigh. Neither of them are in competition for your cock- not yet, at least, but the genuflection at your feet is enough to make you think that you’re someone worth worshipping. 

Though, there’s not much to think about when they’re both swallowing your dick down their throats respectively. 

Minju bobs her head up, pops, and Dahyun swallows your dick back in. You’re flexing your stomach as hard as you can. 

“This isn’t too much for you, right?” Minju asks sweetly, batting eyelashes in second nature. Gazing at Dahyun who’s repeating the same moment Minju has been doing since the elevator started working. Your right hand is far off from Dahyun’s head, and you hover it over to keep the pace going. 

“I’d be dead if I said it was,” you admit to Minju, to where she just fucking- looks up, face at the underside and those doe eyes, swimming in black, glistening with such innocence- lapping up the spots where Dahyun can’t reach. “But christ- you two are-” 

“Relax.” You imagine that’s the word Dahyun is saying; but with her mouth filled so full up of your cock the sound comes out as garbled, saliva leaking at the corners. She’s hungry, deprived, longing for your cock. And now she finally has it dancing on her neat little tongue. 

“All the stories she tells me- like, fuck, she looks so hot seeing it happen in person.” 

“Minju.” You’re calling the name like putting the blame on her, staring deep into your soul. She grabs your wrist for you to not let go - to stay - just like this, you’re not going anywhere; you let the back of your head hit the wall as it feels like gravity is leaving your body. “God,” you’re gasping, suffocated by Dahyun throating your cock. “Her mouth is just-” 

“I know, baby,” Minju tells you, above the half-gagged sounds of Dahyun sliding your shaft in and out of her throat, the motion selfish in every bob she does - like she doesn’t want Minju to have her fun. Your breaths staggering with every pass, smothered by the vibration between your legs, moaning with watery eyes. “She’s too good for you, we know.” 

Dahyun lets you breathe, slips her hand all over her newly created mess. Minju stacks her hand right on top. The friction strong enough to pull your weight over them. You could feel your back slide against the metal, knees buckling. 

“Looks like we softened him up, huh Minju?” Dahyun says sweetly, innocuous. “Got it nice and throbbing for you-” 

Minju’s tongue darts at the bead of cum weeping out your slit; makes your hips twitch in the draw-back. “He’s raring to go, have you seen the look on his face?” 

When they both look up: you’re dumbstruck, ogling - but all that pride you had at the start of this is nowhere to be seen. 

“What floor is your room again?” 

“29th.” 

“Just a couple more floors up,” you say and they’re both giggling. Either at you, specifically - or the limitless amounts of tricksd how you’re going to pull and bend their gorgeous little bodies. Sensibility and control has no meaning to them. It probably has no meaning to you after everything that’s unfolded thus far. 

Dahyun and Minju tilt their heads up to the underside of your cock, and the urge to grab both shades of brown to black flashes through your mind, but you digress. 

They (or even you) wouldn’t have to wait any longer. 

–

There’s no subtle preamble. No- that went out the door the moment you stepped in. 

It’s the same order since the foyer: Dahyun first, followed by a clingy Minju and her lips with you the last one to file in line. Minju hasn’t been forthcoming in freeing you from her grasp, but you’re not the kind to fight in these situations - so, you let her kiss you anyway. 

Dahyun tosses your jacket on the chair adjacent to the bed, stains fading from the earlier session, heels gracefully thudding the carpet. The blinds are parted just wide enough to get the backdrop of the cozy blue lighting hitting against the beachfront, the sound of waves crashing into shore. Bags upon bags zipped open with the assortment of essential wear and toiletries. 

Minju’s not letting you go still, arms well hooked to the nape. Like she wants you to pin her to the wall straight away and let Dahyun be the lone spectator, standing in the dark. 

“Can’t even spare one second of decency,” she breathes; you and Minju both look at her, not insulted - technically - but rather in a mere taunt. 

“And what are you gonna do about it?” Minju asks, slyly. You shift your head back on her, let the height do the talking - make her feel small. In hindsight, she’s roughly about Dahyun’s height; that part you figured out the second Dahyun stepped into the conversation back at the party. “Are you going to stand there and watch? Or are you gonna join in on the action?” 

Her voice is beyond casual, and almost a siren’s call. Dahyun doesn’t hesitate with her small stature, pulling one end at the collar of her dress, undoing it. You remember hearing that the dress itself that she was wearing was worth six figures - and she isn’t fazed when the fabric crumples at her hips - then to her thighs. 

The audacity of this woman. Her figure is much more alluring to look at when there’s nothing on it. 

You give your neck a gentle tweak, put any implication of soreness in the back of your head. It’s going to be a long night as it is. 

“Someone’s feisty to get the ball rolling,” you’re saying, lips fast to Minju’s neck; the clutch of her hands and arms already with enough pull. Needlessly. Graciously. She tries to get your shirt off but all you give her is two hands on her shoulders and put her back against the surface. Her head hits the earthy shaded drywall - it might be intentional, or not, you won’t give any quarter either way. 

Dahyun slots herself in, like she did back at the party. Only this time, she’s playing your role as second fiddle, peeling Minju away and giving her some breathing room - just to be snuffed out as she’s treating her lips to the exposed collarbone. 

Minju’s leaning back, arching. Her hands don’t know whether to go to you or to Dahyun. It’s a win-win situation for her (probably a win for all three of you across the board). Two of the most attractive beings she’s ever crossed paths with and finally living out her wildest wet dreams. 

The reality of it hasn’t set in yet, but the cracks are showing when Dahyun hushes into her neck: “We’re going to take good care of you tonight, honey.” She leaves a hot kiss right on the bridge of her collarbone, and you see her lip quivering. “I hope you’re ready for what’s coming.” 

“Do you have any-” Minju’s sentence gets cut short when the press of your fingers gets a little too greedy, bending the blue frame under your will. “-idea of- fuck, how long I waited to finally have a go with your guy?” 

“No,” replies Dahyun, tilting her chin up. Your lips are at her throat again and Dahyun seizes the chance to let Minju speak. “Maybe, I don’t really remember.”

“Let’s not forget,” Minju gasps and the heat rising on her face starts to become noticeable. “That you’re the one who set all of this up.” 

“Did I?” Dahyun’s airheadedness is worthy enough for her to get the dunce cap. “Hmm.” 

“She’s got a point,” you’re dishing out the unsolicited reality check. “I’m on Minju’s side here.” 

Minju smiles as Dahyun rolls her eyes. The air in the room is thicker here compared to the car, shared breathing amongst you three intoxicating enough to get high on. It’s a higher plane of existence - a nirvana. Minju’s fingers trace the cotton on your waist, goes lower, till her fingertips get the cool touch of the belt buckle. There isn’t much to be said here; nothing but sly comments and filling the other’s ego to the brim. “Heh. The majority is two to one.” 

You realize that it was a collective effort a while ago. Though, you liked the idea of being the bigger person over the both of them, literally. 

You’ll have pride in that regard, especially in the ways you want to go about things. Dahyun lets her fingers slide over Minju’s body, canvas the curves in her wrinkled dress and slowly drag the material down in a fashion that makes your cock throb even harder against the cotton, beneath Minju’s hand. Showing care in the craft before the messy idea of undressing fills her mind. It’s Newton’s third law in real time: Dahyun setting the vision in motion and everything else seems to topple down like dominoes. 

“Should we take things slowly?” Dahyun asks; proposing a challenge with the heavy implication of doing the opposite - albeit a complete rhetorical. “Make him lose his mind in being gentle and get him antsy?” 

“Please,” Minju says with a hitched inhale, a hiccup, when the cool air finally hits her skin. “Anything but that.” 

“You want more than just a hot mouth and fingers, huh?” Cute.” She tells Minju, dryly. “Well, why don’t you show him again how ready you actually are.” 

Minju’s way ahead before you get the chance to register it: her hand well below your waist, wrapping her dainty fingers around your cock and the reflexive suck of your gut is the exact same as in the car when her lips make contact she can- god - she’s gonna- 

Both exchange and share a glance, leaning their heads and drinking the sight of your inevitable demise. Minju raises her leg in the open space of yours and Dahyun’s happily helping along - hand to her thigh and making her feel lighter. 

And your mind feels the exact same way when you kiss Minju once more. Which shows how much passion she has in somebody she likes; it’s sweet, wonderful, and really just pushing to keep going. Dahyun watches the whole thing unfold: you gripping tighter on Minju and handing you over the work while she pulls the dress lower and lower until it’s nothing but a pool of blue at her feet. Then she pitches in the effort. If a pair of hands and mouth isn’t enough for Minju, what’s wrong with adding another? Your clothes are soon falling out of your rigid frame not long after, and that’s the last piece finally unraveling. Minju’s still got her hand to your cock still and you’re tending to her breasts - her collarbone, Dahyun letting the width of her hips fill her palms and settles in the place of Minju on the wall. 

You really can’t help yourself. Hands feasting over the unclaimed skin. You’re grasping Minju’s waist, her unimaginable ass - you hear Dahyun laugh as you’re nibbling on her jaw. The facial structure itself reminds you of another girl you and Dahyun had escapade with not long ago: Tzuyu was her name- was it? Probably. Now isn’t the time to think about it. 

Because you keep kissing Minju. There isn’t really any other motive than that. Her pert mouth with those pouty lips, the sticky-messy kind and perfect enough to get more sloppy. Dahyun covers her breasts and pinches the hard buds as Minju accustoms your leg in the space between her legs. And she’s just- having the most fun out of the three of you. You think it would be Dahyun having her ‘i made it moment’ right at this second, and you’re sure she has that thought somewhere in her brain. This is Minju’s time to shine, between you two, and she’s living in it. One hand is full of Dahyun’s ass from behind, and the other’s pulling your cock closer and closer to her hips until the bits of precum starts to smear over her stomach, jerking and jerking. 

“I haven’t mentioned how much I love this cock,” Minju spills with an airy laugh. Biting her lip down at feeling she got back in the car. Though she lays an admission: “If you really let me, I would’ve hopped on it in the driver's seat while we were on our way back.” 

“You should’ve,” you were about to say, but Dahyun beats you to it. “Had you been riskier enough.” 

Minju bites her lip down a little harder, head tipped by Dahyun that shines a spot on her chest where you notice a beauty mark- actually two beauty marks. Something to keep focus on with your eyes and not gander down to her hand had your cock. Rubbing your head right at her clit and she- 

“No doubt she’s ready,” you tell the both of them, putting your two fingers between your cock and her cunt for confirmation. “I was surprised you didn’t jump on the opportunity in the car.” 

“Thought I could skip to the part where you take me as I am, like I haven’t been touched in my life.” Minju threads the phrase out smoothly; little does she know that would be the last coherent thing she will say tonight. Blatantly point out the most obvious thing in your eyes: “you’ve got two of the most beautiful women in your hands and your cock isn’t fucking me yet. Is- is that gonna change anytime soon-” 

“To hell with the foreplay and toying,” Dahyun coyly says, setting the declaration. “Say goodbye to your legs for the time being. You won’t be able to feel them once we’re done, or even if you’re ready for seconds.”

“Or thirds.” You smirk. 

“Even if your manager calls him, he won’t answer.” Dahyun assures. 

Somehow the three of you were going to end up in the bed one way or another, but right now: Dahyun raises Minju’s arms up, her wrists crossed instinctually, and opens up the chance for you to lift her leg. The stability is there with Dahyun behind, closing the distance where it’s skin on skin on skin. 

Dahyun’s dreamy gaze captures her creation coming to life, holding her hips along with you, then her nuzzling cheek to the back of her neck. “The perfect girl.” All sleepy smiled with her eyes closed, “A clean slate for him to just-” 

Right when you slip your cock inside, it’s behind closed doors - no flashing cameras, no name being called to the stage. 

You’ve got Minju right where she is. Where she wants to be. 

“Oh sweetheart,” you breathe, and you don’t flinch at the broken pitch Minju sings. 

“-fuck your brains out to your wildest dreams. Isn’t that right, Min Min? Look into his eyes and show him how badly you want it.” 

You freeze. Because you’re just staring into the endless void of those illustrious, beautiful irises Minju bears. Her face pulls a minor wince at the sensation - like she’s about to cry, but she’s nodding despite it; her arched back, the tipped head, her leg bound to your thigh - curling her toes and sinking her nails into your shoulders- holding on for dear life. 

The only thing you want to manage: “Minju, baby- this cunt.” This is something you want to capture, fulfill a desire you didn’t think you had. Dahyun will be expecting your thanks later, and you’ll owe her big time. 

“Mhm, I figured.” Dahyun laughs, victorious. “Go ahead, fuck those pretty lips of hers. Make her cum like you do with me.” 

“You’ll get me again.” You’re saying that as some routine, rather than a promise. The groan falling out your tongue is a red herring in itself. Minju’s ass rests on your hands, still getting used to the insane width of her hips when rounding at the swell. Spread her raised leg wider to push your cock all the way in. Murmuring and mumbling the same in loose prayer. 

Minju’s learning curve isn’t hard to follow, nor get used to. Even though it’s the first time you’ve got yourself inside all night, that's evident with the amount of ‘holy shit’ you keep mouthing as she puffs her chest out, lifting her upper half as the lower is hopelessly slipping down your length. Dahyun wasn’t kidding when she told you her body was primed for sex: hips broad enough for you to palm (and not grip if needed), to her slick cunt, swallowing up the shaft with an endless supply of heat. 

Dahyun hums above the tics Minju gives with her exhales, sliding her hips down to yours; rolling them on the slight elevation provided by her other leg still on the floor, tip-toed. “Okay- holy shit,” she grits, her sly and elegant persona ripped out of her; in disbelief and in reverence: “How does this even fucking-” 

A hold and yank at the apex. The audible slap is loud for someone to hear next door. Minju’s yelp doubles down on the point. 

In the heat of everything. In the heat of Minju’s cunt swallowing your cock whole now. Dahyun caresses her friend’s pleasure-stricken expression, nibbling and kissing the cuff of her ear. Hand now to her clit to get her closer- faster- to that fine edge. Minju’s back bucks the opposite of the arch she managed to hold impressively well, but Dahyun (again, you can thank her for the literal support) presses down on her upper back, opens her breasts up for you to smother yourself in. 

“It just does. He just does.” Dahyun supplies Minju’s working theory. “Your pretty pussy is made for a cock like his. Such a good girl for taking him so well-” 

“Fuck-” is all Minju stutters. Unable to say anything else. 

Her body is unbelievably responsive with the slip in, drag out motion. After all, you’re the one giving the goods. Fucking her poor pussy and splitting her legs open and listen to her whine and whimper in the same repeating fashion before Dahyun swoops her lips in to shut her up. “Oh my god,” she mumbles into the pair. “It’s so good,” and it’s everything to her. “His cock fills me up so well-” 

“Right? Just let him take care of you, baby? Okay?” Dahyun’s fingers corral in a ‘v’, where she catches some of the slick and your cock sliding and feel how wet you two made her. She looks down in the low lights, gasps. “You see that? So much fucking cream down there. You naughty girl.” 

You look down as well, and it’s a gentle layer of white spread all over. Minju’s liking this, and you are too. 

“Holy shit,” Minju spits. The sound competing between the wails and moans - you feel her leak more. “So good. So good-” 

“Yeah?” You and Dahyun say in unison. Softly. Cradling poor, pretty Minju. 

“I can’t- I need. I need you two-” 

You can’t stop this. Dahyun will have your dick severed and in her hand if you do. But who in their right mind would ever think of dropping her while she’s coming undone. Not while Dahyun’s arms are hooked beneath Minju’s shoulders; you, holding her dangling leg up higher, stretching Minju’s body in the hopes of furthering the sensation. Break that cunt up along with her voice. 

“Breathe, Min Min. Let him take you,” Dahyun shoots a glance at you, mouth hovering yours like a tease at the crossroads. Minju’s hand clings to the back of your head, lips to the ear, head bobbing amongst the hitched gasps and clench of her teeth. 

“Minju.” You’re saying her name that way for the second time tonight. “God- look at you. Such a good fucking girl for me, letting us hold you while I fuck your cunt up all the right ways,” you groan, “-Dahyun holding you up while I dick you down-” 

“Bless her, bless you,” she sighs out in thanks. “You’re too good to me.” 

The rhythm keeps going. Your mind doing everything it can to keep up with the beats down your heart and hips. Minju’s body is in complete euphoria the way you pull halfway and drive back in, watch her face light up a million times brighter when Dahyun slips a finger in along with your cock. 

“As if you wanted anything else- fucking- unreal.” She’s still got that confidence from earlier. Hoping that you can take that away from her. 

“Wouldn’t trade the world for this,” you say. 

“Why would we?” Dahyun adds on, and it just- feels right. Those two got all the awards. You’re just acknowledging them with your own reward. 

Minju clings on tighter. The arch in her back going the opposite direction as before, hunching, embracing; hopelessly becoming a puddle soaking your body. Her sweet little cunt and those fox like eyes, the low timbre of her voice coming around only to be replaced with a high pitched moan - it’s a splitting image, in the appearance and feeling - embedding your cock inside to the same spot you hit before and you almost feel bad for the girl. Like she was meant to take the hitting hips- because she’s made for it. 

Dahyun - to her own fun, coils her fingers around your shaft. To add to the pressure, the friction. She even teases the outer rim of Minju’s pussy lips because she can. Those small hands: so delicate and light, touching and pinching and even gently slapping- 

Minju wails. 

“You- you’re- you’re gonna make me fucking cum-” 

“Goodness, are we?” Dahyun inquires, sneering into Minju’s cheek. 

“Yes, yes-” 

“I don’t think he heard you just now,” Dahyun hushes, “say it one more time for us, Min min,” and you know well that power isn’t one of Dahyun’s key archetypes, but when she grips Minju’s chin and wiggles a finger past her teeth. She doesn’t even register the nice nerve pinch at the bite. “You fucking little slut. Minju, take that fucking cock in your pussy like it’s yours-” 

“B- Be” 

“What’s that?” The pleads are helpless, because Minju’s fingers slip and grasp onto you, raising her body like that was the thing holding her back. It doesn’t stop you from fucking her cunt into oblivion - having the tight heat and engulfing sopp of her pussy be the only thing for you to focus on. 

“You’re gonna cum, aren’t you?” Dahyun says, and her circling hand doesn’t let up as Minju’s voice reaches those similar tones, “Why don’t you do it. Cum. Cum right now. All over his fucking cock-” and at this point, most of the superiority complex has fully taken over. Enough with all the nice praise and encouragement, Minju will do exactly what Dahyun tells her to do: “Let his cock cum up all inside your pretty little belly, make you feel so full. I better see that small bump where it’s poking so deep-” 

“Yes-” 

You’re blindly nodding along. Hips coming to contact with hers in muscle memory. “I know you want everyone to hear you, huh Minju? How much of a whore you can be when you got a nice cock all up inside you, breeding-” 

“Yes, please.” Minju gasps. “Please, just- give me that-” 

“Say it.” Dahyun announces. “We wanna hear your pretty voice.” 

Minju, at the center of everything; the center of you two, lays it out: “My god- yes, I want his cum so bad. I want him to - shit! Yes, yes, have him breed my - fucking - pussy and nothing else-” 

You look to Dahyun for the revelation, and she gives you this look saying: Yeah, you heard the girl. Go ahead and give her a baby. 

Then she adds: “If that’s what she likes, don’t stop.” 

So you keep fucking her. Slam your hips harder. Minju’s downfall ripples over her body as she tries to stand on her leg. Her head rests at your chest, at the collarbone, her tongue licking up the sweat off your skin. She murmurs a “hmm’ with her jaw chattering, in response to you saying her name, every angle of her cunt shaping itself to your cock. Bottoming out in a seamless fashion which does feel like you’re fucking Dahyun again - the feeling eeriely the same. Since she utters the same words Dahyun said to you multiple times before: 

“Cum,” she sputters. “Want your cum so bad. Want you to breed me over and over and over-” 

Dahyun’s massaging her belly as you could feel the nerves in your body go haywire. Minju’s body goes limp at the hold as you keep pushing your cock deep into her cunt at a consistent pace, taking it slow with one good stroke - and you breathe, deep. Look in Dahyun’s eyes and see her veneers peering into a smile, right where you’re about to lose it. There, in Minju’s stomach, and Dahyun’s words cross your mind as to how deranged the proposition was in the first place. 

You don’t even register the pulses, cumming inside her. She’s wailing so loudly that it mixes with the tinnitus ringing in your ears. 

Minju’s lips goes slack, mouthing incoherent nonsense, head tipped over the shoulder making her neck look longer. 

“Aw, there we go,” Dahyun coos into Minju’s ear, patting her belly. “Got it warm and thick- in your nice little stomach.” She then swipes her slit, now coated in white, gets a taste for herself - a small little appetizer. “Mmmm, yummy.” 

It takes your entire being to fuck her whole one last time, wrenching out the last few shots of cum in Minju’s cunt. “Fuck-” Minju slurs out, letting her limbs go limp; lazily kissing you and her fingers graze the ends of your hair - lightly clinging. 

“Honey,” you breathe, and it’s fucking wonderful. “Was it everything you wanted?” 

Her throat bobs as Dahyun makes you take over the weight, carrying her by the ass, the loosely wrapped legs giving weight. The smirk she bears is enough to show you. Yes. You wonder. Perfect. Perfection at its finest. 

–

“Dahyun,” you’re calling out, and she shows her side profile over her shoulder, hand to her chest behind her back, the naked hourglass figure impossible to look away. 

She replies, “Hm?” Asking like she doesn’t know what’s about to happen. 

Minju’s hobbling along, hand wrapped to your cock and jumpstarting your sore muscles, kissing your arm since the girl can’t get enough. 

“There’s a reason why the blinds are open.” 

“Is that so?” She’s teasing, walking on the balls of her feet until the moonlight cascades around her frame, outlining in the brightness. “I hope you’ll keep your promise in fucking me on the balcony.” 

“We’ll burn that bridge when we get to it,” you tell her, and Minju snorts in the back - still cock drunk and lust ridden where she’s finding everything to be funny. 

Minju gets ahead of the curve, leaving you for the woman in front. Hand caressing her backside; from her ass, working the way up. Dahyun may not look like it, but she’s been waiting for you to have a go at her. Most of the outside has faded out from your vision; leaving you, her, and Minju. 

“Had I not been here, it would’ve just been you two in this room together,” Minju says, leaning over next to Dahyun and arching her back the same way as she is. “Guess I should consider myself lucky,” she says, smile widening when you finally reach Dahyun’s backside. 

“We’re not done with you,” Dahyun tells her, a sharp inhale passing her teeth when the head of your cock slides across her aching folds. Up, down, maybe a little slap to just be evil. “Oh, babe. Don’t do this to me.” 

“What is it that I’m doing exactly?” You ask naively, eyes hypnotized at the width of her ass, brushing against your cock without you having to do anything. “I’m not the one who’s a little antsy to get split apart.” 

“That’s what she wants out of you,” Minju groans, slipping her two fingers inside her own cunt - probably to mimic the feeling. “Maybe you need a reference to look at.” 

“No need,” you retort, pursing your lips the more you push your cock into her sopping cunt, stomach billowing for the unexpected blowback. Get your hands at the swell of her sloping hip and lean down to kiss her back. 

“Oh, oh-” Dahyun’s mouth cobbles out, putting her face against the glass and she lifts her body to the feeling of your lips. “There- right there, that fucking cock is just-” 

“Big? Amazing? Too much?” Minju teases, burying her nose into her temple, licking her cheek. “I had a feeling you’d clench a little harder when he slipped it in.” 

You remember like it was the first time, how she fits so snug around your cock like a sock or a glove in the first slow strokes, getting acquainted with how her wals kiss every sensitive part and nerve and vein across your shaft. How she messes around with the angle and even getting on her tippy toes - to deepen the arch in her back and lift her ass up since the flexibility is always a-fucking-must. Pushing down with your hand for one second and grabbing the ends of her the next. Soon you’ll imagine the ripples on her skin match the waves below, creaming her cunt as her heat swallows you whole. 

Minju treats herself, which makes the whole job easier. Dahyun knows well how you’ll take her however you’d like. Faster, harder, softer even. And she won’t hesitate to tell her needs. Your grip around her hair tugs a little harsher, but she can take it. When the strokes start to increase in pace, where you’re dragging back as far as you can and yank her hips back onto yours - make her yelp, let the whole world know who’s yours. 

“Fuck- fuck, he feels-” Dahyun spills out, kissing and telling. Minju hums in agreement because she knows and doesn’t need her to explain anything else. “Don’t- shit, just keep your fucking cock inside-” and your grip on her ass isn’t kind from this point on. The sensation choking you like a vice, the tightness, her heat leaking in the wetness around your cock. Minju brings Dahyun’s arm around her back, another hold for you to grab, and you can see the fist she forms which doesn’t help to the trembling legs below. “Fuck- you’re rubbing me up so good, how the fuck do you do that?” 

“He just does,” Minju says, and it’s a callback - a full circle moment of sorts, really. 

“Hey, those are my words-” 

“Not anymore,” she tells her, hand deep in her hair and keeping her neck upright, cheek away from the cold pane of the glass. “Not while lover boy here’s finally owning your ass to thank you for bringing us all together here. So he’s gonna hold you- like this, and fuck your pussy full until you beg him to stop. Even if he does- it’ll be done with a hot load up in your fucking guts.”

The further you push your cock in, the more addicting the feeling gets. Your hands are leaving red over the pale canvas and her neck is riddled in crimson. This is what she wanted after all - what she asked for. She pleas for a breather, which you give: “Wait- wait; fuck, I need a second- okay,” while you slide the length all the way, pull her body up and pin her where her tits spread across the window, the coolness absolving the heat away. Minju’s kissing her shoulder, then yours, and manages to get her lips to the both of you when Dahyun’s back is flush with your front. 

“How much time do we need?” Minju asks, gauging the conditions. 

“A few seconds,” you supply unknowingly, to which Dahyun shakes her head. “Don’t know about her, though.” 

From her, through blown out eyes, “I still want him.” 

“You already have him.” Minju tells Dahyun, and her body goes even further back when she feels the friction inside her. 

So. You keep going. Even when the sound ripped out of your lungs is agonizing because the wetness is making you desperate for that chained release. Dahyun groans - growling with shut eyes and taking your cock deep. 

(She may not admit it for the next few moments, but she’ll also beg for the same thing you gave to Minju.) 

“I think she’s ready,” is what Minju says, eyes flaring in excitement at the sudden slip of your fingers in her cunt, a pinch to her cunt as a reminder of her place in all of this. “Okay,” she’s telling you, “Sorry, I- fuck; can’t even have my own fun, can I?” 

“Be a darling and try to keep her quiet, or don’t,” you say, one full stroke in and pulling your hips all the way back. “I love when she gets this way.” 

Minju’s face forms this look, with a twitch when Dahyun clenches around your cock the second or third thrust, twitching her brows at the sound of knees banging the glass on accident, but the pain is subsided by pleasure instantaneously. “Why don’t you show us how messy you can get with her then?” 

Dahyun’s voice lifts when the pace resumes to normal. She’s gotten herself so soaked that it’s leaking onto your cock - out her folds. She bites down a squeal or two when your fingers bury themselves into her hair, tip her head backwards and her muscles are reduced to pure putty. You and her try your best to keep track of the strokes - the fifth, the sixth, the seventh one where it grants an ass slap. Minju, in the midst of all this, serves a poetic justice of her own when she grabs Dahyun’s chin and slips a finger inside - something to keep her mind off of the pounding from the back and lets you test how deep her back can bend. Or even slip around to her stomach and bring her body the other way where it curves your cock deep in her womb and that’s a spot you don’t remember hitting before, but- God, the yell reaches a new note tonight. 

One touch. One touch is all it took, to ease Dahyun’s mind from the endless wrath of pleasure coursing all over her body. That’s given by Minju, in the most Minjuest way possible - kissing her swollen lips, swallowing her moans down her throat so Dahyun can only hear the claps of skin, waving and rippling in your eyes. 

“Oh fuck!” Dahyun screams into Minju’s face, but she just laughs it off since it’s nothing personal. 

Minju just kisses Dahyun again. Muting her cries and smiling into the girl. She loves her. Adores her. You’re pretty sure these two have hooked up without you knowing and it’s already shown in how much passing they’re both putting into it. 

Dahyun loves having it rough - you’re happy to give that to her. For how badly she needs this. 

It’s all riding on the feel of her cunt, how it’s managed to get you in every nook where your cock touches inside her, the trick of her tongue and mouth working you to that point earlier - ripping the sounds deep in your lungs, but it’s her who cums the second out of you three. 

You’re fucking her so hard she can’t control her voice. 

A ripple effect in real time. Her heat washes over every corner of her body - you swear you haven’t gotten your cock deep enough so she can grab and curl around to own you, where you think she already has. Coming all the way undone. And it’s messy. So fucking messy. 

Her hands hold you so dearly, lips so close to yours. You could see the hint of her reflection, how the light shines on her porcelain skin and the faint lines of her eyes closed, encapsulated in pleasure. Minju’s chin is stacked on your shoulder and pulls a lazy smile. Mumbling sweet nothings beneath the rising moans, adjusting to you and Dahyun’s height where she stands a tad bit taller. 

In another corner of the universe, the roles could be switched between them, leading to the same inevitable outcome. 

“Fuck me full,” Dahyun tells you, alternating with every wince and groan spilling out of her lips. “Want it- so fucking bad. You perfect bastard-” Here you’re cupping her chin as her voice gets raised - more, more, or some substance of the syllables where you’ve heard them before. With a lover's touch and mindful care for a face and body like hers, unlike the slick noises of your cock jutting out and embedding itself back in, Minju licking your neck which slightly helps the condition but not by much. 

You and Minju can see Dahyun’s breath bless the class with a white, grayish fog, lip quivering until she has to hold it down to proffer a few more parting words: “hold me, love me, don’t let me down, please,” then, “your cock is-” 

“Hold her up until she can’t take it anymore,” Minju growls, “She’s not gonna last any longer-” 

“You fucking slut,” you snap back at Minju, probably to Dahyun too with her mewling in some form of an agreement. The pounding of your hips keeps its pace. 

She clenches a bit harder to the increased tempo. 

Sooner or later, you’ll have to wind up on the bed. Not just to rest, relax, or take a breather, but to swap the idea of putting your legs up rather than on the ground, fighting against gravity. Though, you’d love to stay like this- for as long as you could hold it, where the mix of blue and white illuminates through the looking glass and to your bodies. Dahyun’s fingers slide up on the pane, fingers spreading, high to where she could get them, extending her figure to the heavens where the imaginary gods could look down in astonishment. 

“Dahyun, you feel- fuck, I’m cumming,” you sputter, “God, baby-” pushing her body flat and railing her ass beyond the breaking point. 

Two good strokes would be the last good moves from you, fucking your cum into the muscles of Dahyun’s cunt, where you want to add fuel to the fire - soak up all the slick with more spill. The three of you are all collectively groaning and saying obscene words, burying the evidence and hope to god a scandal won’t come out of it. You pull out, slowly, let Dahyun savor the feeling of your cock leaving her. Minju’s pulling her head the other direction and sloppily slicking up her lips. Some of the cum gets on the head of your cock; so, you rub her pink folds and push right back in, see Dahyun’s body tense up since you gave her no warning, and Minju just laughs. You’re even kissing her first then Dahyun’s backside, with your cock warm in her cunt still. 

Neither of you three move. It’s a moment to breathe, reflect. Normally you would be the first to panic for every slip into the mess up with Dahyun. 

(In reality: you fucking love it. Despite the denial in the admission.)

You’ll just wait for the pregnancy scare to come back around again. 

“Is our lovely little princess all fucked out and bred up like she asked?” Minju says, rubbing Dahyun’s back and belly and peppering her shoulder with more kisses. Holding her while you take a step back and plop to the side of the mattress. 

Dahyun, still breathing in between smacking lips, “I want another.” 

You and Minju both look at each other in surprise. “She’s usually competitive with me,” you say, “so it’s nothing new.” 

“I figured,” Minju brushes it off, helping Dahyun walk over to you, one straddling leg over the other. Where Dahyun truly shines in the height advantage. Can’t deny she looks pretty with her straight hair now frazzled, from all the pulling and grabbing- 

“Min min,” Dahyun calls Minju, “Do you mind grabbing something for me?” 

“What is it? And where.” 

“Michael Kors duffle bag, middle zipper.” Is all she says, and her lips are back on you. The kiss alone in a normal occasion would be enough for you to lose the air in your chest, away from the public eye and you two can fully embrace each other between the intimate, slow sex to the fast, rough fucking depending on the mood - usually one outshines the other and it’s an open ended interpretation. 

Minju disappears out of your view for what seems like a few seconds, comes back with a hat in her fingers, holds it as she sees you and Dahyun cross further away from the edge. Refusing to keep your eyes on Minju, Dahyun’s hands are quick to shift your gaze back on her - hitching between muffled words and sighs and moans all the same, pressing down hard on skin where the shade goes beyond red. 

You, of all people too, should know this: what Dahyun has is hers to keep.

“Greedy little girl isn’t she?” Minju asks, with a little smirk peeking at the corners. Scooting herself closer and closer to the action in excitement. The unspoken law of attraction, possessed by you and Dahyun both. “So tragic - like she can’t get enough.” 

“You too,” Dahyun darts back, shimmying her pussy lips down at the underside and it’s the slightest bit of -fuck, pressure applied at the underside, her gyrating hips doesn’t help the case either. 

Minju passes the hat off to her; as fitting for the position that she’s in: a cowgirl hat she puts on to make the appearance true to life. 

You catch yourself staring much longer than usual. 

“Makes no sense,” breathes Dahyun, brushing the head of your cock against her folds with such ease, and you move her hand away to tap lightly on her clit. Made you want more. “How his cock is still hard after he-” 

“Fucked your ass raw?” 

(I mean, yeah-) 

“Mmm, I think she’s ready,” Minju says, huskily,  hand to cheek and you don’t think twice when her thumb slips past between your lips. The wicked smile eliciting as she’s doing so only sparks a multitude of different things to try after- or later. “Ride his cock, Dahyunie. I wanna see how good you can tame him.” 

It’s very possible, and she’s done it before. 

Dahyun pushes you back into the sheets, lets your hands roam all over her front, “My lovely girl,” you coo, smirking. 

She gasps, bites down hard on her teeth at the feeling of your cock pushing in, filling her up. “God- okay, wait-” 

The fucking stretch. Slow at first, but once she took more than half the seamless movement of her taking the entire length is a sight you’re hoping to see again and again. Your thumbs find themselves at the indent of her hip and thigh, greedily pressing down and unwilling to let go. Rigid to smooth, the breaths steadying with every rock of her hips. 

You lean up and fix the hat for her, leave a kiss on her neck for the good job. “Good?” 

“Mmm,” Dahyun hums with a smile, getting more and more confident with the feeling. “Feels so fucking good.” 

Minju grabs hold of her waist and raises her up- just slightly, where you could feel your shaft tense up in anticipation. But instead, you buck your hips to meet in the middle, wrap your hand to her waist along with Minju’s arms as Dahyun grinds her cunt onto your cock. 

“Bet that must feel real good for you, doesn’t it?” Minju giggles out. 

“Oh, I can’t even begin to describe it,” you barely whisper, because Dahyu’s cunt sucks the air right out of you. 

“Won’t be long for seconds then, are we?” 

Minju’s words fizzle out in your ears the more you watch Dahyun lean forward one second, back the next, hips rising and falling on your shaft. The expressions written on her face changing every beat of skin hitting against itself, alternating between fucking herself to you thrusting. If Minju’s words couldn’t register in your head, then the sounds of Dahyun whining on top is literal music happening in real time. 

Minju’s on her knees, rubbing herself up at the sight of Dahyun hopping along. Until you decide to help along to reach that high again. In the embrace of your head on your chest, you’re scattering kisses all over her breasts and soon the idea of Dahyun and Minju getting off to you becomes more and more of the current reality. 

Dahyun sucks in, through her teeth and stomach, curling her lips when the upward thrusts start to get ruthless. Her hands are gripping and soon the patchwork of nails will start clawing their way into your skin. Despite all that, her body holds still to your grasp, like it’s used to the clutch and all she has to do is keep herself still. 

“My- fuck, it’s not even fair; so- so fucking big, you are,” she strains out, hooking an arm around your neck and your hand’s to her ass. “Baby please- ‘m gonna fucking-” is the last thing she says before her own cry cuts her off, burying her lip into the dip of your shoulder - the ache coursing through her body she has to channel it through her teeth onto your skin. 

“Cum,” Minju orders, knowing very well Dahyun’s getting to that point. Fixing the hat so dutifully and moving the wisps of hair falling to her front. “I know you want to. You can take it. You can take him.” 

You’re certain you could hear the squelch of her cunt the faster you move. 

“For me,” you say, the low rumble in your tone slightly trembling, trying to keep up. “Just a little more.”

“Yours- yours. So yours, please. It’s all yours-” 

She’s biting hard on her bottom lip, and you’re shushing her. 

“Breathe, babygirl.” 

“God- it’s, ugh,” groans Dahyun. “K-keep going-” 

Little do you realize, she’s been working you up again. In those wobbling lips and the gasps in the little spaces of your bodies, shadowed by the echoing of wet skin hitting against itself. Dahyun switches from the fast fall of her hips, to the agonizing grind of your cock filling her up - all the way down to the hilt. 

It doesn’t take much - not that it had to. Dahyun’s helpless to stop the second spill of cum flooding her womb; the sounds of her the same as always: fucked to the brim, where the head of your cock gets to the deepest spot in her cavern and you see her ruby shaped eyes meet yours - half-lidded and hazy. Just the way you like them. 

“Fuck, Dahyun-” 

“Ah,” Minju sighs, ‘There we go. Finally.” She’s saying like it’s some relief, cradling Dahyun’s pleasure stricken head as her body freezes when she rests her hips for the last time, leaning down to kiss your mouths in a lazy fashion, then to your jaw, whispering a string of words you’ll ask her later when she’s back to her sense. 

Her lips are back to where they never leave: yours. “Do-” she tries to say, and you’re laughing. 

“What is it, love?” You like throwing the pet name around. Maybe the meaning behind it doesn’t apply to her (yet), but it does for your case. “Use your words. Anything.” 

“Let. Let-” 

“Take your time.” You’re speaking oh-so softly to her. She’s still got her hat on, sliding off her hair and behind. 

Dahyun takes a few breaths to collect herself. All her thoughts as best she could conjure up. Which she does: “I want him to milk you again.” 

Comically on cue, you and Minju both gasp. Is it in shock? Surprise? No. Neither of those assumptions could suffice the wicked grin Minju has on her face. Not that it was a competition or an endurance test. You’ve concluded that both of these girls are absolute freaks having fun with a cock together. 

“Didn’t he just-” 

“He’s a good one.” Dahyun explains with no elaboration to Minju, for (hopefully) the last time. Sucking in a shared inhale when her pussy lips slide up and off your cock, the audible wet sound beyond obscene; some of the locks on her hair actually get caught to the slick underside, licking the evidence and pursing her mouth right above your balls. “What? You don’t trust me?” 

“No, it’s not that. I just-” 

“Why don’t you lay down and let him make you feel good? Don’t you want him to fuck your hole full again? Until you’re sick and cock drunk you go dumb?” 

By your own standards, this is teetering to pure insanity for Dahyun. Minju doesn’t see it that way, since her expression hasn’t changed, putting no fight when Dahyun’s hands are on her body, flipping her over on her back and spreading her legs wide. The hand-off is something to take note of - the coordination.  Soon you’re slapping your cock on her clit, making her body tense up. She doesn’t even blink when you slip inside. 

Her eyes go wide, and you swear you see sparks flying beneath them. 

“There’s that face,” Dahyun urges, holding your chest from the rear. A kiss to your neck, with a departing tongue. “She’s all yours.” 

Your hips move on their own, hands fast to the hourglass curve of her waist- her fucking hips. With every passing stroke it wriggles up to her tits in the same motion: down then up, up then down. A quick gaze to the action below and you can’t understand how well she’s meant for this kind of work. 

“This fucking cunt,” you grit, “My fucking god.” 

“No room for control.” Dahyun’s wrapped around your middle in quick succession. “The best girls like her are always meant to be bred. Pounding her pretty little fuckhole because she always has you coming back for more.” 

Minju’s arms are all over the place. First gripping the sheets, then covering her face - touching her hair. She’s so goddamn pretty and even more beautiful when completely fucked out - the pink now apparent in her cheeks with the lighting provided by the blistering moon through the windows. Her brows are creasing and the opposite, mouth canted and spilling in tongues. “Mmnh, fuck, you’re so good- so deep- ah-” 

You can’t help but be amazed you’ve got her to be like this in a short span of time. Legs open and letting your cock push and drag its way out. The shadow creating this mosaic on the wall - where all of your bodies are meshed into one. 

Somehow you manage to bring Minju closer, have her (somewhat long, lengthy) legs curl loosely around your thighs. Where the motion of your hips hit that same spot you discovered earlier unintentionally, bend the springs deep in the mattress where the frame is moving along with your thrusts. The harder you grip her waist, the louder the slaps are. You don’t even show a hint of worry when Minju goes limp in her arms, her back arching towards you, using the position to the fullest potential. 

Dahyun observes from above, smiles when you grab both of Minju’s wrists and she takes it upon herself to grab your necktie conveniently at the edge of the bed. You don’t even notice her tying it around her hands and putting them above her head, holding as you find the perfect angle and aim for the same spot to get her cumming in no time flat. 

“Thanks,” you’re panting out. 

“Breed my little girl again.” Dahyun says to you. And you feel it in the grip, that addicting clench - massaging your cock around her slick walls. “Hold her hands, her wrists, just make sure you empty every drop inside her.” 

“More, more,” the girl beneath you cries out. “Let me be good- milk your cock like she asked. I want it in my fucking pussy- you motherfucker, just do it already.” 

“You heard her, have Min min here take it,” Dahyun growls into your face. You don’t even yield to look for the assurance, because it’s drawn up in her mind. “I want her to have it in her fucking stomach.” 

Dahyun’s role in all of this isn’t common: to be the one calling the shots, but you’re welcoming it anyway with her at your side. 

As for Minju’s case: she’s been reduced to a river of breath, bent into hisses and hums from the soft flesh of her mouth and throat. 

Even when you want your mouth to comply with the demands, your body does the talking. Before it sets in: you seize the movements when the first rope of cum coats Minju’s walls; hell, you don’t keep track of the countless pulses of cum shooting inside her cunt, slamming your face onto hers and groaning so loudly she could choke on the sound alone. Her breathing shudders and you go with the slight tip of her head back, feeling every push of fresh cum inside to the point you fail to control it. 

Dahyun smiles in approval as you bring it upon yourself to keep thrusting, forcing every fiber in your body and using everything - even using a whimpering Minju at your hips - to make sure she wrings out all the bits of white from your cock. 

When you slow down, lightheaded and the scent of the room is full of sweat and sex, Minju’s swollen cunt keeps you grounded while she keeps your cock warm. “Good job,” you hear Dahyun whisper, and manages to get her slack lips onto yours, then leans over to show some love to Minju as well. “Well done, sweetie. We’re both proud of you.” 

You didn’t want this to end - and Minju makes it known with an unrestrained sigh when your cock finally leaves her properly fucked cunt. 

There she lays once the soreness sets in, cum leaking out and you hear Dahyun giggle when her pussy makes a subtle ‘pop’. You lift a brow in the bubble that forms in the mess, but they’re both looking at you- 

“What?” The two ask in unison. 

You shake your head, and smile. “Nothing,” you say. Which is the whole truth.

–

(Seconds before you doze off, you twist your head to them sitting up. Actually, Minju’s on her back still with an elbow for support. Dahyun’s hand is between her legs and scooping the lasting bits of cum from her pussy, licking it up and kissing Minju. 

You don’t bother asking about the debauchery happening across. Someday the inquiry will come from you, just not today.) 

–

“No.” 

“Yes.” Is what Minju says, but it’s not directed at you.  

“No way. No freaking way.” 

Minju’s sitting near the nightstand, in one of your shirts. Knees stacked elegantly as she maintains the professional mannerisms on the phone. You assume it’s her manager, but she ends the call on one hand and switches over to the hotel phone, resuming her conversation. “Yes I understand. By the way, can I order some room service?” 

Dahyun shuffles from the open balcony, welcoming in the morning breeze. Bathrobe coated around her figure and in the oversized slippers. Two small boxes are in her hands, and she meets you with the same eye smile she always flashes. 

You bite your knuckle as Minju’s nodding her head. Curious as to what was discussed. “Okay, we’ll come right down in fifteen minutes.” She hangs up the phone soon after. 

“Well?” You ask. 

“Believe it or not,” Minju starts, and she’s trying her best not to smile. “They want to see us in the lobby to talk about- last night.” 

Dahyun tips her head down with a grin and you’re arching your eyebrows in relief. “Thank god, I hope it wasn’t another noise complaint.” 

“Oh they mentioned that as well,” Minju says, killing your whole mood. 

“See? I told you,” Dahyun laughs, and it’s the kind where it’s cute and unbearably impossible to not go along with. There weren't plans in the schedule today, especially with Minju tagging along, so that alone could be drawn up as a free day. “How many complaints are we at now? Five? Six?” 

“Seven,” you deadpan. “What’s with the boxes in your hand?” 

“Pregnancy tests.” Dahyun answers. You look at Minju and all you see is her pursed lips with a thumbs up. 

Oh god, you’re mouthing to yourself. As if this new adventure didn’t have much to unravel - turns out you’re absolutely wrong. 

(When the two ask you ‘what’s the problem?’, they’re left puzzled with the facepalm you give. Little do they know about the smirk hidden behind your hand, and it goes to show that you’re just as sick and twisted like the both of them.) 

-

(a/n: one year of kooyabooya fics, and what better way to go back with the two that started it all <3)

–

It already feels wrong to commit the action, and even worse to say it. Most of the day has been pretty bad as it is. Dahyun had a rough day at work when a bunch of things didn’t go her way. Just one unfortunate instance onto the next. Woke up late, missing a few makeup supplies, late to work because of a stupid ticket, and didn’t even get to reshoot the one scene for her role because the director apparently ‘forgot’. She really was just sitting in her trailer till she felt like dying. 

As for your case. You had a long day too. So, you slept. Just- not in the way neither you or Momo had suspected. It’s not her fault she flaunted a body too tempting for the average man to resist, especially with that mouth of hers. You had to shut her up, and it’s somewhat safe to say that this was a tipping point of what was happening in the workplace leading up to the incident. 

You’re setting the record straight, even if the lines are beginning to be scribbled lazily. Dahyun’s gaze remains unfazed while you’re trying to down as much wine as possible and she just told you that you’ve slept with one of your coworkers plus her best friend and you’re not sure how much worse this ultimatum could get. 

Clearing your throat, sighing. Because the day can’t get any shitter. “You- didn’t even give me a chance to speak?” 

“Which is why I’m letting you speak now.”

“Can we not make a big deal out of this?!” 

“A big deal? Christ- do you hear yourself? With Momo?!” Dahyun raises her voice in agitation. You couldn’t have seen that coming. Scratch that: you definitely should’ve seen it coming. 

Did you even think of what was gonna happen? Fuck no. 

You and Momo are equally blamed for that. 

Recalling the memory of Sana’s party, you remember seeing Momo in that strapless red dress, hot off the sewing machines showcased from the Met Gala, and Chaeyoung herself was even appalled at the appearance. Dahyun also was in agreement, unfailing to look away because she would’ve asked how your reaction would’ve been if she was sheathed in red. And the way Momo strutted her way to you two felt right out of a movie where all the girls are working towards stealing something valuable later. 

(In a slight retrospect, yeah. You’ve seen the signs before.) 

“Well, aren’t you gonna explain to me why?” Dahyun demands, and you’re wishing the wine was a whiskey instead. This kind of conversation was not one to be done sober. 

“What do you want me to say!” You’re exclaiming, a mere move of the arm not tantamount to what you’ve done. “It’s not my fault that she’s equally all over me as you!” 

And Dahyun, of all people, knows this. You and her are both sides of the same coin when it comes to Momo being the sole catalyst. Not since you’ve walked in on them accidentally while visiting their dance practice and that was the fastest one-eighty you did ever in your life. Or when Momo pulled you off to the side in some bar and made you forget about the belt left in the bathroom when everything’s all said and done. Or- the time they made you feel like a hotshot when they both visited your office and that was the talking point in the break room for freaking months. 

You can sense the rage boiling in Dahyun, so much of it you can actually smell. Steaming off her pale skin in these rare occasions to where it turns into wanting to fuck someone into the sheets. You feel it. It’s hot when Dahyun gets like this, and you want it. The same could be said for Momo when she makes you wanna pop a blood vessel. Depending on the circumstance, and the girl, it varies from moment to moment. 

While you can sense the blistering warmth enveloping the room, your hands grip the obsidian countertop to cool your nerves. If you wanted to make the hard choice - and you really, really wished you didn’t - it’s Dahyun. You want the girl who’s been at your side since college but can’t say a word without getting a slap on your arm or pinch of the ear, who willingly gives you a few extra napkins while eating out because she could never finish her meal and doesn’t say much to be annoying in order to get a rise or even when her other friends tease you and she can’t do much to protect either you or herself. Some days her face lights up when she walks out of the office and sees you waiting on the second step leaning on the railing and you look at her at the other corner of the room and wonder how she’d handle your cock. There’s also the fact she would taste so much better than the wine, a fine course once indulging in the appetizers.

Momo, in some corner of the world is probably thinking of this moment and watching with her palms rubbed together, devilishly smiling. Dahyun still can’t believe that you went to Momo. You had a sliver of interest to her friend as much as she did (again, another topic to be saved for another day, but if Dahyun’s pulling your finger, Momo’s doing the exact same thing too) but she’s funny and chaotic and if you really look into it - where you’ve done time and time before - then Momo’s in it for the fun at ripping the seams and leaving no care for the damages she leaves behind. Nayeon or Sana, whoever can get to Momo first, this girl is a problem. 

“The fuck you say?”