Emrys Lim

You look at her who is still in her seat, hand clicking and sliding rapidly across the frictionless mousepad as she tries to weave past attacks flying towards her.

“Give me a minute, babe. Let me finish this up.”

You drag a chair from an empty cubicle behind her and sit down.

And you wait. Wait. Waited.

Your wrinkled fingers tremble. Your baggy eyes waver. Your drooping back falls lower.

You're exhausted and tired.

But it's time.

“Victory!”

A deep, booming and resonant voice announces her win directly into her ears. You don't hear anything of course, since headphones are only meant for one person’s use.

Headphones that you bought for her. A Razer Kraken Kitty V3 Pro — Quartz that cost a fifth of your meagre part-time salary. And because you were so worried that she might damage it, you even offered to yourself to add on the extended warranty for its protection of an extra three years.

Who would have known that extended warranty does not protect your already crumbling feelings for her. Your ‘friends’ have called you blind, lovesick, or a dumb idiot, among many other nastier names, but at least someone chose to be with you.

Well, you're her cash cow after all.

She doesn't need to bat her eyelashes to get that limited edition Razer Enki X Hello Kitty and Friends gaming chair that burned half a hole through your pathetic wallet. She doesn't even need to whine and pout with the sole aim of draining your monthly cheque to buy the SHEGLAM Full Collection Set when she already has a CHANEL LES BEIGES HEALTHY GLOW SUMMER ESSENTIALS makeup set at home. That one was from the courtesy of your funding too, you remind yourself.

She turns around and looks at you. She's pretty. Pretty because you have worked your sorry ass to the bone just to keep her happy. Everything on her and used by her was and is from you.

But you're going to ensure that the tense doesn't become a future one. No more gifts for her that will be coming from you.

“So, what is it babe?” she coos, this time somehow magically batting her eyelashes.

You take in her victory-drunk expression from the game match which she has just won and swallow down a non-existent glob of saliva that your malfunctioning salivary glands are producing.

“I said, let's break up.”

“Like us?” she asks, pointing her finger between you and her repeatedly.

“Yes.”

“B-But why?”

“You don't love me anyway,” you say. “Nothing you say is going to change my mind, so let's just make this a clean break.”

You immediately stand and turn to leave, in fear that if you stay any longer, you’ll actually change your mind.

“Wait! No!”

She grabs on to your arm and clings to it with both hands, shouting at you with an exaggerated cutesy voice.

“But what about that skin that you promised to buy me? I already told my friend that I’ll buy it for her, and if you leave now, I’ll be labelled as a liar!”

You freeze in your step, heart clenching in helplessness.

“There’s also my monthly subscription for the battle pass! What about that? How am I going to pay for that now? Can you pleeeeaaasseeeee not terminate the recurring payment?”

Your fists clench. Your teeth grit against each other.

“And that new keyboard that you’ve already ordered for me, you won't be cancelling it, right? It's my favourite after all.”

That's it.

You yank your hand away from her and turn to her. Your mouth opens and your chest expands, ready to launch a bombardment of accusations of how much of a money grubber she is (not an accusation, by the way), but in the end, your lips simply close to a shape just enough for a growl.

“No. I had enough.”

Her face instantly switches. From a cute puppy to a devilish three-headed hell dog reminiscent of Cerberus, she begins to berate you.

“Enough? What do you mean enough? Haven't I been giving you more than you deserve? You should be glad that I even bothered to hang out with such a loser like you. You don't even have any friends, and you should fucking consider it a blessing from god that I see you as pitiful enough to cast eyes on your loathsome self.”

You stand there and take in the verbal assault, just like how you always do when there's nobody around, except that this time, you have close to sixty pairs of curious eyes from all around the PC Bang probably scoffing at you.

“Wait…” she hums, before continuing. “I see what it is. You're mad that I haven't spread my legs for you right? All these gifts and presents bought for me, but here you are, still a virgin that can't even get any pussy.”

She gives a mocking laugh and digs her finger into your chest.

“Virgin. Loser. Pussy,” she sneers, enunciating every syllable. “I’m sooo fucking glad I haven't even allowed you to even hold my hand.”

And you, who upholds the thinking of women shouldn't be retaliated against, regardless of whether its physically, verbally, or mentally, you just stand there and soak in every negative emotion enacted upon you like a sponge. Your clenched fist relaxes but your nerves twitch. Your heart pounds and adrenaline rushes, but you divert that to calm your surging rage.

“I bet if I—”

She raises her hand and stretches her palm wide.

“—fucking slap you right here, you wouldn't even do anything about it.”

Air whooshes and she swings it down.

You close your eyes on instinct, your muscles tensing to harden your skin and soften the incoming impact.

Air graces your cheek instead of flesh.

“What the fuck—”

You slowly open your eyes and look at her.

Or them.

“Let go of me—” she yells, yanking her hand off Nagyung’s grip. She had barely managed to step in at the last second, stopping you from getting a temporary tattoo of red handprint on your cheek.

“Leave,” Nagyung steps in between the two of you. “Or I’ll call the police on you for public nuisance and disruption of businesses.”

“I’ll be fucking back,” she says, glaring at you which Nagyun had promptly shifted her face to cut her eye contact. “I’ll bring all—”

“The only thing you’ll bring is bringing your stuff back,” Nagyung declares. “You will be hereby blacklisted and banned from this internet café, as well as any of our other branches. We will however allow you one additional day to collect your—”

Nagyung points to all ‘her’ equipment that you have gifted.

“—stuff, otherwise, they will all be promptly discarded.”

“You fucking bitch!” she screams, raising her hand once again to slap Nagyung this time round.

“Leave already!” “Stop being such a bother!” “Fuck off!”

Protests and complaints from other patrons came from all around, jeering at her.

“Stupid ass café,” she grumbles, flustered at the turn of situation. “You're all in on this together.”

She turns and grabs her belongings, storming past glaring gamers with her own death glares.

“I’ll ask each and every one of my friends to review bomb this place!” she screams before the door closes, muffling her unfounded outrage.

“I apologise for the commotion,” Nagyung says, bowing deeply. “However, please be considerate to your fellow customers, otherwise, we will blacklist you like that Karen earlier.”

The café returned to its still busyness, with the sounds of keyboard buttons and mouse clickings filling the air once again.

Nagyung grabs on to your wrist and pulls you into the kitchen.

“You alright?” she asks.

“Yeah,” you answer unconfidently. “Just…”

“You don't have to explain to me. I saw everything.”

“I'm such an idiot, huh?” you mumble.

“Yeah. It was about time. I was wondering when you’ll cut her off. Why were you even trying to keep that toxic of a relationship alive?”

You fall silent, leaning back against the kitchen counter and stare at the unopened packs of ramen lined in the cabinets above through the see-through glass.

Nagyung sighs.

“You want to clock out early today?”

That knocks you out of your daze.

“N-No! I need money. I’ll have to pay for her battle pass subscription still…”

Slap.

“Ow!” you shout, rubbing the back of your head. Nagyung smacks you, and if there's one thing you know about her, it’s that she doesn't hold back.

“You’re really an idiot. If you're going to continue feeding her, why break up with her in the first place? I know you're a people pleaser, but that isn't a battle pass for people to step all over you.”

She takes in a deep breath and continues to nag.

“Why are you even allowing people to step over you? Is your dummy brain that dumb?” She placed four fingers on her forehead and shook her head in disappointment. “If you're gonna continue to do that, I'm not going to issue your salary to you anymore.”

“Hey!” you argued, your voice’s volume increasing in intensity. “I'm not an idiot. And I'm not going to work for free. Who are you to decide if I get my money or not?! This isn't even your shop. It's your parents. You're just like me, a person who’s a loser—”

You mouth snaps shut at the misspoken words, and panic wells up in you.

“I-I’m sorry. I was just—”

“Go home,” Nagyung says.

“I—”

“I said, GO HOME.”

You look at her, trying to decipher her emotions, but you learn nothing. She doesn't look angry nor sad, and obviously she doesn't look happy. You open your mouth to speak, but she simply points her finger to the locker that houses your backpack.

Raising your hands in defeat, you sigh and walk past her, grabbing your stuff before heading out.

“Hey,” Nagyung calls out.

You turn and look at her.

“Come here.”

You walk over.

“Ouch!”

She had kicked your shin so hard that the tremor travelled from your bone up your spine into your head.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” she says, sticking her tongue out at you before walking off to the counter, accepting an order for a bowl of instant noodles.

For the first time that evening, you smile.

You walk out of the PC café, head seemingly clearer from the liberation of your now-ex girlfriend and the head shock from Nagyung’s kick.

———

And so you think.

Your wallet finally feels full after like what, six years?

You take a sip of the bitter herbal tea.

Yes. Six years. You can't believe yourself either. You had actually waited six years of financial and emotional exploitation before mustering up the courage to free yourself from the shackles of that toxic relationship.

Was it her fault?

You boot up the PC in the closed internet café.

Yes, definitely. It was totally her fault. That scum of a woman who was a money loving whore.

Right. A little too harsh on your words there, but it's a fact. She still is a money loving whore, by the way — she had sent you a text message earlier asking for some funds to a new weapon skin.

That message was ignored, of course.

You stare at the loading screen of the computer, watching the dots appearing and disappearing in a circular path as a software update installs.

But somehow, you couldn't bring yourself to hate her. Sure, she was the metal cuffs of greed that drained and milked you of your finances, but you were the one who placed them upon yourself.

Cuffed yourself up. Locked your wrists with them.

The screen switches and you key in the password. The familiar wallpaper advertising the PC café’s name greets you. Double click, and the game she always plays launches.

Anytime you could have used the keys in your hands to free yourself, to break out of your predicament, but you chose not to. You stuffed them into your pocket — your self imposed cage of your innermost desire for companionship.

A match starts. You choose a character that she always asks you to — one that only acts as a support to hers.

Perhaps you just wanted someone to be around you, to laugh, to talk, to appreciate each other without any favours or transactions that powers the relationship.

You wander around aimlessly, spamming buffs at allies randomly without a plan. A heal comes before a tank gets hit: they die because your skill is on cooldown. You buff a thief with intelligence stat instead of strength: they get deleted because their critical hit fell short of the opponent’s remaining HP.

Why do you feel so empty despite your wallet being full?

You get kicked out of the team.

The cursor hovers over the lobby’s different rooms. You pick a random one, one filled with the maximum number of players. Battle royale game mode. You ask for allies, try and form alliances. This time, you wake out of your stupor and support your team well, well enough that you and your three teammates are the last surviving players.

The elimination zone closes in towards the map’s centrepoint as the match reaches its penultimate showdown.

Four players, three ranking spots.

You four meet in an empty plaza.

You press F7 on your keyboard and start typing in the chat box.

How are we going to deci—

YOU DIED

A concentrated ice beam. A overhead guillotine drop. A barrage of missiles.

Before you can even hit the escape button and toggle out of text messaging mode, all three skills hit you squarely. Your HP bar drops to nil and the red words of death flood the screen.

Three different attacks kill you.

No.

It was only one.

An attack of betrayal.

This was premediated, no doubt. You had once again been used and discarded. Just as how your life had been like.

Perpetual giving and no receiving.

You quit the game and turn off the computer, leaning back into the chair. At least the soft cushions of your seat don't betray you.

You grab the glass and give your bitter tea its last bitter sip. It makes your tongue cringe and your mind grimace, but somehow, you feel a little better.

You need more—

“Here.”

A fresh glass of cold herbal tea appears in front of your face.

“Nakko.”

You sit up slightly, but she pushes you back onto the chair.

“Relax. We’re not at work anymore.”

She shakes the glass of tea slightly.

“Aren't you gonna take it?”

“R-Right,” you say, swapping your empty glass for the full one. “Thanks.”

“It’ll be deducted off your paycheck, by the way.”

You spit out the half sip that was already past your throat, discharging it back into the cup through the straw.

“You serious?”

“Employees are only entitled to one drink and one meal per day,” she says. “Don't tell me you forgot. You've been working here since like I was working here.”

“Fuck…” you curse, but you suckle on the straw regardless, drinking back the now saliva-contaminated-beverage.

“I’m joking. The rule is there but it can not be there,” she says, pulling a chair from the cubicle beside yours. “Why are you still here? You're usually home by now.”

“Bored. Free. Finally have some time to myself other than that bitch.”

You tap on the keyboard, playing with the buttons. You press it with every passing second, imagining how the black space on the unturned-on screen expands infinitely with every spacebar that you punch with your index finger.

Nagyung tucks her two hands under her thighs and swings her legs, looking at you with an unreadable expression.

“As you should. But why aren't you playing more?”

You close your eyes.

Your mouth opens and you want to tell her how empty you feel.

Instead, you suck in the remaining four hundred and seventy six millimetres of tea and stand up.

“Did she pick up her stuff?”

“Why are you even asking me the question?” Nagyung says. “You saw that her stuff was shifted out for her to claim when you came in. The stuff is now gone.”

She gives you the ‘it’s obviously picked up’ look.

“I was just… curious.”

Nagyung sighs and mutters.

“She did. She showed up with two males, which I assumed were her new boyfriend candidates. They helped her move everything into a truck that was driven by a third male friend before they all got in and drove off.”

You look at the arrow keys this time, playing with the left and right buttons as you tapped them alternatingly.

“Do you think she let them fuck her?”

“How would I know? Is that even important?”

“…Yes,” you mumble. “Because apparently I’m not worthy of even holding her hand.”

Nagyung stares at you, her eyes wavering slightly, unsure of what she should say.

“I should go,” you say, heading to the kitchen to grab your bag. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Nagyung watches you leave.

“Dummy,” she mutters.

———

“Ya, you look like shit. What the fuck happened to you?”

You look at her who enters the kitchen.

“Hey,” you mutter, casting your gaze back to the terminal and accept an order for a bowl of instant noodles.

“Have you even eaten?” Nagyung asks, donning her work apron.

You hesistate with your answer.

“Oh look, they asked for two extra eggs and three cheese sausages,” you say, diverting the topic. “Can't forget that.”

You turn to the induction stove and turn it on, placing a pot filled with water to the premarked dot that had been determined to be the secret of perfect chewiness of PC café noodles.

Water boils, noodles in, a right amount of time to cook. Not a minute more, not a second less. Seasoning in. The timer beeps and you turn off the induction, cracking two eggs in. Whilst you allow the residual heat to cook the eggs, you turn to take the sausages off the warmer and place them on a side plate.

Done.

You pour the spicy soup noodles into a bowl and garnish with a small serving of subtly sourish kimchi, then place them all onto a serving tray.

“You missed something,” Nagyung said, her arms crossed.

“I didn't.”

She raises her eyebrows and looks at you.

“Two extra eggs and two cheese sausages,” you say, pointing at each extra ordered topping. “See? One, two. Two eggs. One, two. Two cheese sausages.”

She plucks the order receipt from the holder above the countertop and presses it to your face.

“It's three,” she says, pointing at the cheese sausages. “One, two. Two cheese sausages.”

“Right. S-Sorry.”

You turn to take another sausage from the warmer, before walking out of the kitchen with the right order in your hands.

Nagyung clicks her tongue distastefully.

You walk towards the customer on the far end and serve it to him. Once you hear a hum of approval after he gives the noodles a slurp, your job is accomplished.

“Hey, could I get some potato chips?”

“I need some help with my PC here!”

Callouts reach you as you try to make your way back to the kitchen, so you attend to them.

You help a lady who has her PC frozen from opening three games. You take an order from a boy who wants ten pack of chips. You clear empty glasses and bowls onto your now empty tray.

“I need to go to the washroom,” Nagyung calls out to you. “Help me with finishing up this order!”

She takes her apron off and leaves the kitchen, leaving you scrambling back with fifty thousand things to do. You take the chips and place it on the counter — you’ll bring it out together with the other order later. You dump the dirty crockery into the dishwasher.

Phew.

Time to finish up the noodles on the stove. You take a look at the order. Same thing. Two eggs, three cheese sausages, but this one came with even more extra add ons of beansprouts and tofu slices.

You promptly cook everything and place them on the tray like a ritual, bringing it out again.

Aisle D10.

You walk in, making your way to the customer. Except that it's empty.

“What?”

You look to the cubicle beside D10 and tap on a student’s shoulder.

“Was anyone here?”

He peels off his headphones and looks at you with annoyance, seemingly irritated that you disrupted his mob farming momentum.

“No.”

“You sure?”

“What part of No do you not understand?” He rolls his eyes. “Now leave me alone.”

What a rude little—bzzt.

Your phone vibrates.

You set down the food on D10’s table and take your phone out.

You pocket your phone and settle into D10. Seconds later, you're already digging in to the noodles, chewing on the sausage, breaking the gooey yolk. She even added tofu and beansprouts to the order to make sure you have a balanced meal.

Fuck. How will you even repay her.

Halfway through the meal, you suddenly stop.

You had forgotten.

This was the exact seat that she was always using. She always used to order you to cook her meals as she played, disregarding if you were slaving away or not. She slurped her noodles here, pressed the keyboard here, and abused you here.

Your appetite is gone. You gag a little, but you decide to swallow back the minute amount of food you puked into your mouth.

Can't be dirtying the area.

You picked up the food and walked back to the kitchen, dumping everything into the wastebin.

Nagyung looks at you by the side.

You ready your ears for a beration and scolding for wasting food, but nothing comes. Nagyung just looks at you with a pair of eyes that you've seen like maybe twice? Thrice?

Point is, she rarely looks this soft and gentle.

“You alright?”

“Yea,” you answer immediately. “Why wouldn't I be?”

“Why would you be?”

“I—”

“Give me a minute.”

She walks out of the kitchen into the café and picks up a small microphone.

Ahem. Attention please. Due to an emergency, we will be closing the café in ten minutes time. We apologise for the inconvenience. As compensation, your next session here will be free of charge. Once again, we apologise for the inconvenience.

She walks back into the kitchen.

“What are you doing?!”

“Shut up.”

Nagyung shushes you and retreives a piece of paper, noting down all the customer IDs as they pack up and leave the café. She makes a mark on the paper after the last person leaves, signing off with a: Customer List for Compensation.

“Help me out, will you?”

She takes an empty tray and rag, passing it to you. Once you’ve gotten yours, she takes her own and heads out into the café, cleaning up the mess and trash that the customers left.

You walk out and join her.

You half expect her to ask you questions while the both of you work, but nothing flies your way.

Silence.

Nothing but the shuffling of feet, sounds of the chairs’ roller wheels being pushed back into place, clinking of dishes, and the clattering of keyboards buttons as you both run sanitary wipes over them.

8.32 p.m.

An hour has passed since you both started cleaning up.

You pull the rack off the dishwasher and pick up a dry cloth, wiping the water off the washed dishes.

One bowl after another. One spoon after a fork. Plates stack high, but not taller than bottle of soy sauce.

Nagyung stands there and looks at you, watching you place the last dish into the cabinet.

“So,” she finally speaks. “Fancy a walk outside?”

You look at her. You're tired. You want to go home and sleep. At least you hope that you get some sleep.

Bur you nod anyway.

She hums in approval and turns to her locker.

“C’mon, grab your coat.”

You both walk down the cool streets.

The night was just beginning as people hopped out of diners and offices, but they also stumbled into bars and clubs.

“What's with you lately?” she asks, hand stuffed into her pockets. “You've been looking so… distracted.”

“I don't know. I really don't know. I feel so… empty.”

You stare down at the square tiles that line the pavement, trying to place your foot in every tile’s dead centre with every step that you take.

Childish, you know. But that is what that interests you right now.

“I just feel lost. Not in the way you think.”

“Me?” Nagyung asks. “How would you know how I think?”

You shrug.

“I don't know. I’m thinking that you think I'm a pathetic bastard who can't think for himself now that his overbearing and manipulative girlfriend is gone.”

“Well…” Nagyung mumbles, looking at you as she weighs her words and thoughts. “I agree with the pathetic part. But unable to think for yourself? That's a hard no.”

“Tell me more,” she says. “Tell me how you actually feel.”

“I thought I would feel happy. You know? More money and time to spend on myself.”

You stop by a roadside stall that's selling spicy tteokbokki. Nagyung orders a plate and adds some soondae (bloood sausage) to it. Then you settle into the small tent by the side, waiting for the order to arrive.

“I can finally play all the games I wanted. To use all the characters I didn't have a chance to experience.”

The owner brings over the plate and sets it down on the table. The rice cakes and blood sausages are covered in spicy and sweet red sauce, and two skewer sticks are stabbed into random pieces.

Nagyung takes one stick and pokes a rice cake, popping it into her mouth. She chews the white cylindrical national dish with pondering eyes, watching and listening to you while she eats.

“But with every game I played, I hated what I loved doing even more. I was constantly reminded of how she ordered me around, how she shamelessly whined for skins, how she gets mad at me for mistakes that she makes.”

You stare at the red plate, red equally flooding your eyes and chest.

“I didn't want to play anymore games. Not when it reminds me of her.”

“That I understand. But what about your meals? I can't be having a skeleton serve my customers, right?!”

“I’m afraid I’ll vomit if I do.”

“What? Are you not going to eat because instant noodles remind you of her?”

“They do…”

Nagyung sighs and pokes a piece of blood sausage, passing it to you.

“Eat.”

You look at the purplish-brown slice that's covered with red sauce. Nagyung shakes it slightly, nudging the piece towards you with a go on look.

You take the stick from her and put the food in your mouth.

You chew. You swallow. Chew and swallow, chew and swallow.

You chew and swallow.

The next thing you know, you're theee quarters through the plate, and Nagyung had unknowingly pushed it towards you.

“I-I'm sorry, Nakko,” you stutter, flustered at how you had basically ‘stole’ her share of the food.

“You're really an idiot,” she smiles, propping head up by the chin as she puts her elbows on the table. “I bought it for you, so eat it all up. Don’t choke.”

She looks at you with soft eyes as you slow your wolfing down of the food.

“Does fucking her really matter for you?” she asks.

You look at her, taken aback by the sudden interrogation, but you answer anyway. You've been close to Nagyung since god knows when, and talk about such matters was never something you both shyed away on.

“Not really,” you say, poking another piece of rice cake. “I just wanted to be… appreciated.”

She nods her head and just listens to you, taking in all your inner feelings and thoughts.

“You know, I used to think to myself. Am I really such a detesta—”

“Say, wanna do something else?” Nagyung cuts in. “It's Friday night. I know I did a diabolical thing and closed the café when there's so much money to be earned, but I guess I needed a break too.”

You stare at her blankly, since you too were taken aback by her actions.

“What could we do?”

“I don't know, something to distract yourself? There's an arcade a little down the road. Wanna hit that up?”

Arcade. It's been a while since you visited one. It's a money sucking land, but somehow, you're already deep into a claw machine, donating your seventeenth dollar coin to them profit makers.

Nagyung’s by your side, cheering you on, squealing useless directions she wants you to move the joy stick for the optimal clawing position. And of course like 99.8375% of attempts, the empty box of iPhone 17 Pro Max gets shifted a few inches before dropping back among the unobtainable stash of desirable treasures.

“And it's a net loss,” you declared, raising your hands in defeat.

“I really wanted it though,” she chuckles.

“Why do you even want an Apple product? There's like no room for self customisation.”

“What? I want it so that I can sell it, of course,” she giggles. “Why would I want a phone when I already have one that's perfectly fine.”

“You can't say that, you know?” you say. “You better go touch some wood, otherwise, the next thing you know, your phone is gonna spoil.”

“I never believe in such things,” Nagyung says, but she's already touching every possible wooden surface in the arcade.

She looks at the spoils for today: one generous keychain of a simple pink heart.

“I want it.”

“You can have it. I’ll be labelled as a gay under societal norms if I hang that on my bag.”

She bursts out laughing.

“Who says you need to hang girlie stuff to look like a gay. What makes you think you aren't already one?”

“Ya,” you curse at her, but somehow, how just break into a smile.

“Feeling better already?” Nagyung asks.

“Thanks,” you say, nodding.

“Let's head back,” she says. “I have more things planned for you.”

When you’re back at the café, Nagyung promptly turns on enough lights to make sure things are at least visible. She brings you to booth D10, which is apparently your nemesis right now.

She sits you down and boots up the computer, before taking her place in front of a PC beside yours.

“What is this?” you ask, your face already uneasy from being in this spot.

“We play.”

“I don't want to.”

“Hey, look at me.”

You don't. You just stare at the keyboard. Looking at the letters on the keys. Your mind keeps thinking of how she would not even bother to look at you and command you to do things. Your mind keeps thinking about the keyboard she made you buy. The mouse she wanted. The headphones that costed nothing to her.

It reminds you of—

“Look at me.”

Nagyung’s voice snaps you out of your trance. She grabs your hand, what the hell this is so weird, she's your best friend why would she grab your hand, but you don't pull away.

“You're just escaping,” she says, holding your hand tight. “I know you love playing games. I know you love eating instant noodles here. Are you going to let your love for what you love disappear? That doesn't seem very fair to yourself, right?”

“Uh… Nakko,” you mutter.

“Hmm?”

“Why are you holding my hand right now?”

“W-Well, you’ve been harping about how your stupid ex never lets you hold her hand, so I thought I would let you hold mine. Why? Are my hands not worthy? Are they not to your liking?”

“Yes. Wait I mean no! No!”

You squeeze her fingers tight.

“It's just, we aren't anything but friends, so wouldn't it be weird if we like… do this?”

“R-Right.”

She releases her hands from yours and turn to her monitor, muttering something under her breath.

“It’s not like you cared when you held my hands when we were small kids anyway.”

“What was that?” you ask.

“N-nothing,” she diverts. “Anyway, point being, don't stop doing something you love just because it reminds you of something bad. If anything, shouldn't you forge happier memories to replace them?”

You lean back onto the chair, taking in Nagyung’s words as you look at the screen.

“Are you gonna wallow in the past and stay unhappy perpetually?”

You close your eyes and ponder for a second. Many seconds.

Right. Maybe it is time to let myself be free.

“Nakko.”

You open your eyes and look at her.

“Thanks.”

“Dummy,” she says, smiling at you cutely. “Boot it up. We’ll play some matches together.”

A few moments later you're already deep into the game, blasting enemies to death with your mini-alliance with Nagyung. You both die early once, unable to do a thing except for spending the next twenty minutes watching how the rest of the game pan out. In another, you both manage to survive until the end, to which you rock paper scissored her and lost, so you let her kill you to take the number one spot.

But she disconnects from the game and lets you win.

“Then what was the point of me throwing scissors and you paper?” you say.

“You're stupid,” she says, rolling her eyes and bleps at you. “Men are supposed to always throw rock. You're the dummy for throwing a scissors.”

Games continue into the night, and by the time your stomachs are growling, time has passed into the domain of pre-morning where you both should be getting your daily dose of REM sleep. But who the fuck cares when you're having the time of your life. You can't even remember when you had so much fun or smiled this wide.

“I’m hungry,” Nagyung said, raising her arms up high as she stretches with a unholy moan. “Instant noodles?”

“Bet.”

You both stand and walk to the kitchen, only to be dismayed by the fact that there are no instant noodles left.

“Right,” Nagyung sighs. “Stock comes in tomorrow.”

“Bummer.”

“Alcohol? I got some beer stashed in here.”

“I’ll pass. We still have work tomorrow. Plus, I don’t want to get drunk and do stupid things.”

“Oh? What kind of stupid things?”

“N-Nothing. I mean, obviously stupid things like vomitting all over the place, falling onto the ground. Definitely not things like kissing or touching you or anything.”

“You sure?”

“Yea. I wouldn’t do that to you. Much less my best friend.”

“Wow. I’m offended. Am I that unattractive to you?”

“What? No! You're pretty, you're hot… hell, you're one of the hottest women I know. I don't even know why you aren't doing modelling or anything.”

Nakko puffs her chest up and flicks her hair backwards.

“Guess you have some conscience left in you.”

This time, you let your eyes linger. The colorful top hugs her figure, exposing the gentle curve of her shoulders and the sliver of skin above her shorts. Her long caramel hair hangs effortlessly around her, but your eyes draw towards her toned belly and the smooth expanse of her milky legs.

She's always been beautiful, but somewhere along the way, you don’t know when, your eyes had stopped seeing her as your best friend and quietly started seeing a woman.

“You're drooling.”

Your hand snaps to your mouth, wiping away nothing.

“Don't tease me, you shit.”

She laughs and opens the fridge, bending down to take two packets of milk. You swear she jutted her ass out towards you. Not exactly purposeful, but subtle enough for you to notice.

She chucks it to you.

You catch it and poke the straw in, taking a small sip of the cool liquid cream.

“Say, did you really love her?”

Nagyung shifts towards you and stands by your side, leaning against the counter.

“Love… I don't really know. She was the only one who approached me after all.” You swirl the packet of milk in your hands, looking at it as if you can see through the opaque carton. “Rather than love, maybe I think it was more like I was just accepting anyone who showed interest in me.”

You give the carton a big sip, drinking away your sorrows with the non-alcoholic calcium supplement.

“Now that I look back, I was really such an idiot huh. I had someone who really cared about me, but I didn't think much of it.”

Nagyung put down her milk and stared at her shoes.

“What am I to you?”

You put down your milk and also stare at your shoes.

“A friend. My best friend. My only friend who has been my best friend since forever. I'm afraid. I'm afraid of losing the only thing I have left.”

“Why would you?” Nagyung mumbles.

“Because I think I like you more than a friend. You've been with me for so long that I was just blind of your existence to me.”

Bzzt.

Your phone vibrates. You pull it out and it's a call from your ex. You pick up.

“Hey.”

“About damn time you picked up. When will you send me my keyboard? Oh and also the subscription for the battle pass next mon—”

“You money grubbing bitch.”

“What the fu—”

“Yeah you. You think I want to hold your hand? You think I want to kiss you? Even if you spread your legs, I wouldn't even look at you. I'm sorry, but I'm not attracted to narcissistic mosquitoes.”

“The fuck are you talking about? Who would even—”

“It's me, you bitch.”

Nagyung snatches the phone from you.

“Why? Are you jealous? Are you mad that your money cow is going somewhere else? If only you could see us right now. I'm holding his fucking hand. Maybe even hands. He's mine, you got it. He's mine and mine and mine forever. And you? You can go suck those three pussy thirsting gooners who want nothing other than to get in your pants. And guess what? Those gooners won't stay with a slut like you. Unlike you, my relationship with him will be perpetual. So fuck off.”

Beep.

She hangs up the call.

“That was… quite the speech,” you mutter, looking down at her fingers that were and are still threaded around yours. “So, what are we now?”

“Whatever you want us to be,” Nagyung says.

You stare at her silently, the words she had just spewed to your ex downloading into your mind.

“Nakko. I don't want to be your friend anymore. Nor do I want you to be my friend. I want you.”

She looks at you with a raised eyebrow, egging you to continue.

“I’ve been perpetually in love with you, but I just didn't want to admit it. I know you like me, but I didn’t trust my judgement. I just wanted your—”

Nagyung cups your face and smashes her lips onto yours.

She holds on to your tongue with her lips, her own flicking and swirling around yours as she kisses you hard. She steals your breath, your saliva, and your sanity, drinking them in as if it were what she had wanted since god knows when.

And you think you're god, because you've known it since forever, but you were just lying to yourself. The fuse has been lit, the bullet has been shot. You have now progressed past friends and handholding, and you want more.

You moan into her lips.

“Nakko…”

She licks your lips harder and digs into your mouth deeper.

“I want more.”

She pulls you off her, a thick string of saliva connecting between you two.

“I need more.”

“Then take me.”

You press your body forward, but she holds you off.

“Not here. I don't want our first time to be in this god damned kitchen.”

She holds on to your hand.

Fuck. It's the third time this night, or dawn, or pre-morning, whatever. It’s the third time your hand was held this night alone, and it feels so damn good. It makes your heart warm and fuzzy, and you feel as if you won't ever be alone again.

She guides you out of the kitchen into D10, settling into the seat.

“Tell me,” Nagyung says. “Tell me what you love about me.”

“You're so kind—”

“Shhh. Not those. I already know why you fell in love with me. I want to know what you love about me. Tell me what you were thinking when you stared at me earlier.”

You stand over her and bent down, breathing hot into her lips, forehead presses against hers. You lean in and give her a small peck.

“You have the cutest face when you get mad.”

You lean in again, this time suckling her neck.

“You give me the hottest stares when you get mad.”

Nagyung raises her head as you attack her sensitive spots, humming softly.

“How can I be cute and hot at the same time,” she gasps, feeling you plant kisses down her neck to her shoulder bone, which was already kindly exposed courtesy of her off-shoulder outfit.

“Ask yourself,” you say, snaking your fingers into the hem of her top and peeling it down. You pull off her bra at the same time, letting the fabric bunch just below the curvature of her underboob.

“Perfect,” you mumble, already latching your mouth onto one tit. “Cute and hot like your face.”

Her back arches off the chair, hands clinging onto the arm rest as she shakes from the pleasure of being suckled. You draw circles around her nipples with your tongue, teeth grazing them lightly to give her a virgin dose of pain-pleasure.

“Tell me more,” she rasps.

You stick out your tongue and leave a trail of saliva down to her belly, spreading oral slime all over her toned abdomen. You kiss it with wet smacks, worshipping her like you've wanted this for so long.

“Fuck. You tummy, it's so tight. It tastes just like how I’ve imagined.”

“Y-You idiot. If you've been thinking and fantasising about me for so long, what took you so long?”

“I don't know. I don't care. I just know I need you right now.”

“Then take me.”

You grab on to her shorts and pull it down, throwing the obstructing fabric to the side. What's left is just a pair of laced thongs, the pink translucent sheer fabric doing nothing to cover the wetness of her pulsating core. You lean in to give a small lick, tasting her sweet tartness through the cloth.

“I can taste your desperation, Nakko.”

You pull and peel the panty to the side, and the smell of her sex wafts into your nostrils.

You dive in.

The first broad lick has her mouth open. A second swipe makes her groan. The third slurp makes her toes curl. You draw symbols of pleasure with your tongue, digging into her cunt like its a shovel excavating gold.

Her pussy is a trove. A treasure trove of unexcavated potions that have been reserved just for you. You stab your tongue deep and flick a moan out; carve it right to harvest a grunt; swirl in curves to draw a squelch; swat down to force a stream out.

Up. Down. Left. Right. Circle. Square. Triangle. Cross.

You draw her cunt with your tongue as if you're keying into a controller the cheat code for her pussy juice, and it fucking works because you can't drink without stop.

Not a single drop can go to waste.

At this point, your lips are drenched. You pull them off her lips to which she gives a cutesy whine of disappointment, but you immediately force that back into her as you stuff her full again with a finger.

Then a second. A third. Soon, her pussy is gaping with your hand resting within its confines.

“Y-You’re stretch me so wide…” she moans, her eyelids fluttering as her pussy quivers around you. “She won't hold your hand. So… so I’ll hold yours. I’ll hold yours with my hand.”

She grabs your other hand and presses it into her mouth, sucking on your fingers hard.

“I’ll hold yours with my mouth.”

She looks at you and grunts.

“Look at it.”

You look.

Her folds are pulled taut on either side of your hands, and an endless amout of lubricant flows out of her sex hole.

“And I’ll hold yours with my pussy.”

Her words set you off. You curl and twist your fingers, feeling how she grips your hand like they're begging you to never let go, but you're also begging for her to not do so either.

Squelch. Splosh. Squish.

You fingers dance around and inside her like you're carving the juices out of her, and you're succeeding. Her toned belly starts to clench and relax. Her breath starts to grow ragged. Her nipples turn impossibly hard.

“I’m gonna cum,” she mewls, hands reaching for you, but she's too submerged in bliss that she clambers at nothing. She settles for the inhuman arms of the chair and cums.

Her pussy explodes as she orgasms, clenching down on you with crushing force as you work her through. She whines and squeals in ecstasy, juices flowing out of her without stop until her orgasm wanes into a hibernating hum.

You pull your hand out of her soaked pussy.

“You're a squirter,” you whisper in awe.

“Shut up, dummy,” Nagyung rasps in a trembling voice, but she's smiling. “I want more.”

She stands up and turns you around, pushing you into where she just sat. The cushion is wet, but that's the least of your concern. She unbuckles your belt with urgency and tugs your pants down, removing them and throwing it to the side. At the same time, you take pull off your shirt and drop it to the ground.

Your cock is already at its full length, swollen and angry at the lack of attention you both gave it.

Nagyung wraps one hand around it and gives it a few shallow strokes, feeling your intense hardness.

“You're so hard,” she marvels, drawing her hand up from base to tip.

“If it’ll make you feel more confident, I’ve never gotten this fucking hard for her.”

She trembles at your words, leaning into your ear and whispers.

“You hate this place, don't you? Don't worry about it. I’ll make this become your favourite place after tonight.”

She stands and walks to your pants, taking out your phone from within your pocket.

“Let's be cheeky,” she says, turning on your phone. “Password?”

“…”

“Password?”

“Your birthday.”

Nagyung giggles.

“Wow. Like wow. That, made me super turned on. I'm going to milk my cock so fucking hard.”

Your cock twitches from her declaration.

She unlocks your phone and calls your ex, setting it down on the desk beside.

“What the fuck do you want, loser? Are you going to apologise for what that stupid girl said to me?”

Nagyung smirks and stands over you, climbing up onto the chair. She rests her feet on either sides of your thighs, settling between the tight gaps of the cushioned seat.

“If you're going to apologise, I only take cash. Maybe two hundred? Since I'm kind—”

A moan rips through the air.

Your mind reels as Nagyung lowers her pussy down, swallowing your cock whole as she snugs her pussy walls around your shaft.

“—the fuck was that?!”

You grunt as Nagyung impales herself fully onto you, revelling in the sensation of being filled to the brim fucking with both the rationality in her cunt and her mind. She doesn't even give herself time to adjust to your size. She just bends forward and lifts her hips, drawing you out of her cunt. The moment your tip is the only thing left in her, she slams herself back down.

Slap.

As if she's reading your mind, she moans into your ears.

“I don't need to adjust. I’ll let your cock fuck the adjusting into me.”

As if the meat entering and exiting her is not enough, she smirks and bites onto your shoulder, nibbling on your flesh like it’s a piece of delicacy.

“Are you both fucking? How dare you call me when you are having sex?”

“Fuck—your cock feels so good inside of me,” Nagyung cries in pleasure. She straightens her back and grabs on to your hands, once again threading her fingers between yours.

“Gosh your hands feel so big and warm around mind. Fuck, if only she knew what she missed out on.”

“Fuck you both—”

“Kiss me,” Nagyung demands.

You pull her towards you and smash your lips on hers, eating her oral cavity with a voracious appetite.

She moans into your mouth exaggeratedly, letting the muffled and wet smacking fill the air, all while she slams her tight cunt down onto your cock. The sounds of depravity transmits through the microphone of your phone, amd the next thing you know, a soft moan comes through the speaker.

“Please… more…”

You let go of her hands and grip her voluptuous chest, squishing and kneading her soft mounds that rests perfectly in your hands.

“Your tits… they're so soft and perfect. Nothing like hers.”

You lean in and suckle on one, the now free hand snaking to her waist. Gripping tight, you pull her down onto you with more force, pushing your cock further into her, albeit not much.

However, that extra few millimeters strike her most sensitive spot.

Nagyung cries out in pleasure as you pound into her depths, pushing her voice past her limits as she screams and moans and mewls and squeals, saliva drooling out of her open mouth as her eyes roll to the back of her skull.

Her mind is a haze as you assault her pussy, sending her on the path to another orgasm.

She cums.

Her hand slaps your chest in need for more, begging for you to fuck her harder, to give her everything that should have belonged to her instead of the money grubbing bitch.

“Fuck… I bet your cock would feel so good in me too… nghhh…”

Your ex moans through the phone, but you treat it as an erotic backtrack that only serves to drive both your libidos higher.

You stand and flip push Nagyung onto the table, pressing her back into the desk as you kiss her hard. Your chest press against her tits and her hands scramble for support, knocking your phone onto the ground and several PC equipment off their balances, but neither of you care.

Your cock needs no help. You simply push forward, and the unimaginable hardness of your cock guides itself back into the scorching hot confines of her pussy, and you hammer into her with an agenda.

To make her yours forever.

“I think I'm going crazy for you, Nakko.”

You're reply with a soft moan and lust-drunk eyes.

“I think I’m stupidly in love with you, Nakko.”

You receive legs that wrap around your back.

“And I think I want to cum inside of you.”

She looks at you with glassy eyes and nod.

“Fuck me with your thick, fat cock. Make my pussy yours and yours only. Shoot your thick hot cum until I'm loaded with all your baby batter.”

Her words act like a spell, and you groan and thrust into her wanton cunt like nothing matters. Her pussy squelches as juices overflow from another orgasm, slicking your cock up only for you to pull and push harder.

“Nakko, please.”

She stares into your eyes and nod desperately.

“Please stop being my perpetual friend.”

You grab on to her hand and take her lips.

“Please be my perpetual lover.”

With a grunt, you roar and cum inside of her, filling her womb full of your white seed. Ropes and ropes of cum shoots out of your slit, painting and coating her walls like a promise that you’ll give to her for eternity.

When you're done, you collapse back onto the chair, your cock pulled out of her tenderised and swollen snatch with a wet plok. You watch as your cum flows out of her, pooling onto the table, but she reaches her finger down, scooping it up and stuffing it back into her pussy.

“I need more,” she whispers. “Plug me full again and make sure none of it ever comes out.”

“Fuck, I’m sorry. Please, will you let me fuck your coc—”

You pick up your phone and hang up, proceeding to block her number.

You turn to her and look at the clock.

2.36 a.m.

“We open at 11,” Nagyung says. “Don't worry. We have plenty of time. And if you want, we could close the shop for another day. I have craved you since forever.”

You smile and rush forward to give her another kiss, pushing your now hard cock back into her creamed cunt again.

“This is now my favourite spot. And you're now my favourite food.”

And that—

Nagyung points to the pink heart keychain hanging off her bag in the kitchen.

You lose yourself observing how expressive she is, how her words mean less than the way she moves her hands, how by looking at the light in her eyes you can probably expect the sentiment of what she’s saying next.  

Sometimes you catch up on little things—how good this place’s milkshakes are (bet, especially since she's not paying), or how much she misses her hometown, or again, how annoying and invasive her new coworkers are (what?).

“Do you know why I told you to get lost?” 

A bell suddenly rings in your brain, and brings you back on Earth. She's talking about you, last week specifically, and you can only shake your head dumbfounded.

“I was sure one of you would come back crawling to beg me.” She pokes at her own cheek playfully and looks up, her eyes wandering towards something that could catch her attention. “I don’t know, I think I liked the scene in my mind.”

She laughs out loud and it’s crystal clear. 

See, that’s when you understand there’s not really much of a difference between how you, Sohyun and a milkshake’s texture are perceived in Kaede’s mind. You are just items on a menu, flavors meant to be tasted out for her own momentary craving

“I’m sorry, we—” you stutter in a poor attempt to turn this thing into a two-way conversation.

“Don’t be it,” she cuts you short, and giggles again. “Besides, better be useful than sorry.”

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t think you are really that dense,” she says, rolling her eyes, every gesture as theatrical as it gets. You stare, blank, as she huffs and brings a palm to the forehead. “Try a little harder”

“I’m not following,” you repeat, and maybe you should have stuck to nodding.

“Maybe you are really that dense.” 

-

Your run to wherever the hell Kaede brought you was quite an anticlimactic series of events: 1) you bumping with a server and getting served fresh strawberry milkshake with double whipped cream right on your shirt; 2) Kaede laughing at you as you tried to apologize with the personnel; 3) a mandatory I hate you message to Sohyun; 4) you bumping your head once again as you tried to enter this spare bathroom in the shop’s basement (why would they even make the door so short?).

“I'm still not convinced,” she mumbles as you try to defeat the giant pink spot on your shirt with sink-water and bad manners. And again you have no idea what she’s talking about.

“How is that supposed to happen?” 

“What?”

“You and me. And Sohyun, of course. I’m just curious.”

“I’ll spare you the details.”

“But I want the details. Tell me, how would you like me?” You notice in the past three minutes  you tried your best at being useless, she must have gotten closer. Your rubbing gets erratic, the warm feeling of her breath against your shoulders distracting you more than you’d like to admit.

“Listen, Kaede. We are sorry,” you blurt, your voice straining in the most pathetic way known to man.

You hear a puff, then her hand, soft on your collarbone. It’s gelid.

“That’s all you can say?” 

Kaede looks up at you, long fingernails graze over your stomach. There’s an intentional agonizing slowness in the way she moves around you. Your heart flips.

“Let me guess,” 

Anticlimactic is probably today’s special, as she starts guessing button by button, one hand fleets over your length to check if you are as hard as she thinks you are. Thumb pulls your waistband down to mid-thigh and she doesn’t really need to think about it anymore.

“It would be something like this,” she begins, small fingers wrapped all around your shaft. Her entire palm cups you firmly before settling into a slow and gentle stroking. 

“But there’s an important difference, huh. I’d be down on my knees, mouth full of—” Her thumb rubs all over your tip, the friction killing you inside. “This.” 

“Eyes watering but searching for yours,” she continues as her hand fastens the rhythm. “A clichè but, eye contact is important, isn’t it?”

Her question falls into the void, you arch your back slightly and look upward. There’s no way you can look her in the eyes now.

“And I’d be slobbering all over it. I wouldn’t be able to talk, of course, but my pupils would tell you everything you wanna know, right?”

The image lives vivid in your mind as her grip gets firmer and firmer.

“Something like: oh please daddy, fuck my slutty little mouth, please,” she says, her voice hitching into a thin, whistling strain.

You groan through your teeth in a weak effort of protest, and she just laughs.

“But let’s be more specific. Your friend would be there too. Shirt open to display those nice full titties, because let’s be real, that’s all she’s good for,”

Every downward stroke presses a little harder than it should and it starts hurting.

“One hand pinching her nipples and two fingers deep in her cunt as she watches us wishing it was her in my place sucking this nice cock.”

Why do you even listen to Sohyun? (And more importantly: did you actually send that I hate you message to her?)

“Then the inevitable will happen, you’d lose your patience. You’d yank my hair and force me down on your groin. Your cock hitting the back of my throat, Sohyun squealing like the slut she is, and me barely functioning because not enough oxygen is getting to my brain.” You throb and twitch at the implied imagery, knowing you can’t let this keep going for much longer. “And suddenly warm cum deep in my throat, and I’ll make all those little gag sounds as I choke on your load, and—Oh!”

Her mouth gets closer to your neck as she stops her motion. She breathes hot air on your skin before leaving a wet kiss on your neck. 

“You wanna cum so bad, don’t you?” she whispers in your ear.

“Please..”

Hips jerk, desperate, muscles tense, taut. Your gut aches for release, and you cock pulses within Kaede’s firm grip.

“Do it.”

She flashes that smug grin once again, and that’s the last thing you see before your eyes shut down. Fingers milk you out of every spasm, the sound of it getting squelchy as you coat her hand in white ropes.

Despite the mess she keeps going until there’s not much left of you (figuratively). You open your eyes and she’s there, all content and awestruck by her doing.

“So, how far off was I?”

Her hand flashes triumphant to your face with sticky evidence of an undeniable truth. You don’t really need to answer.

“Clean it up,” she adds, beaming, “Pretty please?”

You offer a tissue and she laughs out loud, dimples now never more evident. “Oh no, oh boy. With your mouth.”

Of course, how stupid.

A breathless moan escapes your lips as your tongue drags along the lines of her fingers. The texture is icky, the savour salty, but you suck on them dutifully. She pushes two fingers deeper and amusement paints her face as you gag over your own filth.

Then she lets go, you swallow, soundly. Her mouth ghosts over your ear and you hear a faint good boy. You are ablaze, but a chill runs down your spine.

“Men are really all the same. Aren’t they?” she recounts, casually, as she drags her panties down her pale legs.

“A little gift,” she says as she hands them to you. “Use them to jerk off or whatever, I don’t care.”

“Or maybe, you can stuff them in Sohyun’s mouth next time you fuck her. I bet she’d love it.”

“I guess. Thank you.” 

Your cheeks are burning. Her smile brighter than the sun. “Oh no need for it. I’m just that kind.”

“On your knees”, there’s a tilt in her voice, almost playful. You think she’s starting to enjoy this a little too much. 

“Eye contact, remember?” 

You nod as her fingers run through your scalp, nudging you to look at her—there’s a gentleness in the gesture you don’t really expect.

She tilts her head downward as she lets some spit dribble on your face.

Smile. Teeth.

Your run begins.

It's a pretty simple route, you've practiced it down to a simple science. The first thing you must do is throw yourself out of the observable universe, go outside of your bedroom and jump on the cardboard box. Do a few spins and watch as the earth becomes a barely observable spec in your eyes.

Then you blink three times, and you are exactly where you need to be. In Jiyeon's bedroom, now– the difficulty from this section is supposed to come from the fact there's a blinking camera spying on your actions. You have to disable it, bla bla bla.

That isn't the case, because you never made hit the check to activate said camera. Therefore, free game. You skip through the dialogue as much as you could, there's a bit of unskippable text.

"Mmh, nice cock… Glad you've came back here." Your clock's ticking needlessly as Jiyeon jerks you off, stroking you hard and firm– she keeps that same rhythm that's been measured. You know what happens, she pumps and pumps with her spit covered hand up until you throb in her hand. Then she says.

"Can I suck it?"

The optimal route is no, move straight onto blowing her back out. But luckily, as long as you cum you can mark your split. So, fuck it. Have a bit of variety.

"Yes."

And she's off, her lips parting as your tip disappears into the warmth of her mouth, it's euphoric. She's the most talented head-giver on the route, which is high praise to say the least. She doesn't waste time, like she knows you are on a timer of your own. Bobbing her head up and down while maintaining the cutest eye contact, it's a sleeper agent, threatening to make you cum instantly.

Which is what you want, but unfortuantely quick-cumming is considered an exploit, you have to get the bar up to a specific amount. But Jiyeon is very quickly helping you get across the bar. You put your hands in her hair, thrusting in and out of her mouth as you look around her room. It's a nice place, looks very basic, bland. Almost like whoever made it was considering the fact there was a hot woman in front of you would be enough for you to not pay attention.

"You are good at that, fuck." You groan, even with all the familiarity it's still euphoric. You are close to a red split, that's not good. You consume a bit of energy to put Jiyeon against the pillows, mouth-fucking her to the absolute fastest pace you can, your mind overwhelmed with the speedrun, the feeling of her throat constricting around your tip. The gagging, the spit everywhere.

"Fuck." You moan, firing your load in her mouth.

You disappear, phasing through her floor with a well timed glitch out. Then comes the most annoying part of this run, stealing Jiyeon's car and driving way too far, a whole uninterrupted 30 seconds required for you to get to the ocean side.

Now here's the hardest part as well, kicking Jiyeon's car into the ocean then falling underneath it. So you clip onto the nearby boat, all to circumvent having to join the Voidbound. Worth it though, you get to plow the hottest captain of them all.

It takes a few times for you to get the skip correct, but you've never got it right. World-record doesn't even get it right first time. So you don't feel too bad.

Especially since when it works you end up naked and in front of the smoking hot dominant woman. "Good fucking boy." Okay you've skipped a bit of dialogue, if you do it intentionally you submit a bit, she praises you. Gives you a kiss etc etc.

But you are balls deep inside her, she bounces up and down as she rides your cock like a piece of meat. She's tighter than a vice and her tits feel great in your palm, shes so hot. You can't help it.

"Mommy."

And it's said, then the tie she was wearing is around your neck. You throb inside her as she softly asphyxiates the oxygen away.

"Good, good boy, taking it exactly how I want you to. Keep it up and I'll have to reward you. " It's a shame you won't be here to endure that, oh well. It's about the glory and prestige, she ruffles your hair with her spare hand.

"fuck…!"

"Keep going, good."

There's no skip out of Jiu's segment that doesn't make you cringe, you have to walk out with your pants down while she's confused. But oh well, it works. Bae's not too far away, just got to fast travel to Brazil and there she is, in the club partying.

"I'm your Bae ayyy." Bae introduces herself in the same cringey way that only works because she's grinding herself against your shaft in the club bathroom. She's bent over the sink, the mirror reflecting how beautiful she looks. You pull off her outfit, push yourself inside in one smooth action and the time's clocking.

"F-fuck, what's your name again?" She asks, you don't tell. It gives you three additional lines of dialogue, unoptimal. So you just grip onto her ass tighter, pound a bit harder and the conversation disappears. "Oh god, oh my god!"

The club music pierces through, she can't hear your moans and you can barely hear her, but it's fine. You've already came twice right? It's an underrated pain of the category, six orgasms in such a short time but you keep it pushing. Pushing your cock deeper inside, hitting spots that only you can hit. (not for any reason other than you've optimised this.)

Bae cums quick, quicker than a cum on a back till it comes back. She's already came twice in this interaction, bad for the bar fill but thus is the route. She shrieks and the club door starts to open. Oh shit!

Late night concert section, complete sidequest in the actual fic. But it allows you to skip two other idols (Wonyoung and Karina) so Asa is your piece for tonight. She's underneath the stage light with her back to the floor. You are deep inside her, stuffing her tiny cunt with every inch of you. Slamming in and out of her, she's the wettest pussy you've ever had the invitation of being inside of.

"Fuck me! Fuck me harder, oh my– make it so I can't feel anything but you forever!" It's a bit dramatic, but with the squelching noises and the clawing of her long nails on your back. You have to abide, have to obey.

Asa will feel it forever.

"Harder!" She demands, you feel the muscle pain start to flair up. The sound of skins slapping is reverberating throughout the air, it's honestly quite impressive. You nip at her neck, leave marks all over her sweaty flushed skin.

"Take it!" You groan, she's cockdrunk– not listening to the words you are saying, just moaning along to the vibe of your sound. Asa cums all around you, thats your halfway indicator. Slipping out of her and picking her up, throwing her onto a randomly leftover chair. Immediately back inside, you are struggling like an animal. She's struggling like the prey. You both share the same thought, holy fuck I need to cum.

"Ruin me, ruin me!" She chants, you oblige. Ruining yourself to ruin her, it's for the route you say. Like you aren't taking pleasure out of it, trying to focus on too many things and focusing on absolutely nothing at the same time.

Unfortunately, you can't spend more time with Asa. Even more awkwardly you have to swipe her underwear for this one, summon the gooner patrol to fast travel you to Moka's bedroom. This one is decorated, full of pastel colours and pretty little lights.

Oh, and a half-naked woman spreading herself open for you. But details, this part doesn't have sex in it anyways. Moka's hand grips you slowly, then pumps you super fast. Your hand tease Moka's entrance, rubbing her lips before your finger slip themselves inside of her puffy cunt. She has the softest and prettiest moans of everyone.

"That's nice, mmmh." Moka moans, you spit on your cock to give her a bit of a hand. She smiles brighter than the sun, it's a cute crime. One rewarded with a second finger, watching as she adjusts and takes it. Moka's a beauty worth watching, one that goes directly at odds with your run.

"You are pretty." You praise, give her a kiss on the cheek as you hit all the right spots. Moka's mess spreads in wetness on her sheets. "Pretty mess, pretty girl."

"T-than, please, more." A curl of your fingers and your other hand teases her clit. Moka is nearly there, the most beautiful part of it all. "I'm–"

The final part of the route, heading to the bottom of the depths of hell. Why? Well because the run ends with you fucking a demon? Right? Duh, obviously. Demons and anal is not just a sick band name, but also the finale. Jinsoul's ass stretched open by your cock as her horns flare red with pleasure (and literal fire!)

"You are pleasing, human thrall." Her tail teases your ass at the same time, it's synergistic. By a fluke of a good run you manage to get her on the bed, it saves you time in the long run. You might actually get world record, holy. Just need to keep going, hit the cheat codes.

The cheat codes are simple; you spank her. Swatting Jinsoul'ss asscheeks with enough force to turn them as red as the hell surrounding her. "Keep pounding me, human."

"You got it." Yeah this sections not the sexiest, the dialogue isn't very good for the imagination. It sounds like a christian demonstration of sex, down to the hell and everything.

Wait? Is that the messaging of this fanfiction? There's got to be some irony there, make a porno and make it end in the least satisfying climax ever. If it didn't have so many neat exploits and tricks nobody would be running this, but oh well.

"Human, I'm feeling a coil in my nether r-" You shut her up mentally, tuning out all sound. Because you can't handle it, what a boring ending. At least Jinsoul's hot ay? Not the worst finale visually.

Holy hell you did it.

Absolute champion.

Rei's pussy is a spire the way you slay it, your cock is a spire the way she

slays it. You could call it Slay The Spire 2…

But let's back up, there was a bit more before that.

The night started simply, Liz told you to BEGONE! So you went over to your best friend's house. You knocked on her door, she was half naked with her headphones on. Both excited and unexcited to see you, she dragged you in before you could think of an Escape Plan.

She pushes you to her bedroom, Lifting you up the stairs. You'd never guess what's on her computer monitor, hey at least she's on Aeonglass. She must be a Master of Strategy, where were you?

Oh yeah, the 'fucking' thing.

There wasn't any Prep Time. "You interrupted my gaming, so you will be my game." She groans, pushing you onto her comfy bed– adorned with all the Slay The Spire makeship plushies money could buy, "Understood?"

"Yes, Rei."

"It's the Reigent to you."

You are so not calling her that, she's quick to Expose her lower half in one go. Pattering over as she climbed over your face. More accurately you are Crushed Under the weight of Rei's pussy on your mouth, but that's more a blessing than a curse. You greet her instantly, letting her ride your tongue. There's No Escape from the pace she sets, fast and hard as all of her taste hits you.

"Know Thy Place!" She moans, rolling her hips, holding on to the headboard and using you for her pleasure. You aren't above showing Greed, drinking up all of her, feasting on her cunt more than just what was allowed. Perhaps that is what this is, an endless Folly.

But if this is your Folly, may you toil eternally.

You moan, she moans, the soundtrack of her game is the backdrop for all of these sounds. "Fuck! Mm, that's a good interruption, pretty glad you are here, fuck." Rei Monologues, while you Prolong your actions. Oxygen is irrelevant right now.

Though evidently, sexual action with Rei is just like the game, being turn based. Now its your turn, an Energy Surge empowers you to push her off your face. She falls into her mattress and you are Unrelenting, grabbing her thick thighs and pulling close.

She trembles as your tongue is back up against her, this time though its fully in your control. Through sheer True Grit you devour her, it's erotic, filthy and disrespectful. Her wetness gets smeared all over your lips, the corners of your mouth. If you are her game and the win-condition is an orgasm.

You will Make It So.

"Mmh!" You have to keep Rei on the bed, her legs actively trying to Defy and reach Act Three. She's the best elite combat you've ever had, she's in a Haze while you keep up your combo. Rei's whining and the games truly back, two of your fingers join in. Thrusting in and out, doing some Hand Tricks. Hitting all the right spots, sucking her clit.

It's all a Well-Laid Plan, your eyes look up at her, her mouth's agape, she's so close.

"I'm, gonna, gonna cum!" That's a Victory? The orgasm has her Glowing, gushing all over your fingers and her sheets. You Wish to be in this moment forever, but the show isn't over yet. Rei recovers in a Blur, suddenly she's back up and your pants are down.

"Let me see what you are working with." She treats your cock like the Ironclad's sword, holding it firmly. Spitting on tip and rubbing it in recklessly. "Let me Stoke it a little, get you ready for what's to come."

She does just that, making out with you as her hand pumps you, both of you Huddled Together. Rei's hand is warm, really warm. It feels like the Brightest Flame. Fuck.

Rei's shamelessly sticking her tongue as deep into your mouth as you did her hole. Her spit mixes with yours (there's a lot of it.) Sloppily making out while she gets to terms with your cock. She's The Smith the way she's made you harder than a steel beam.

Her lips pull off yours and you are Dazed. "There's so much I could do, suck your cock until you shoot it down my throat. Or I could slide it in, ride it until you pass out. Maybe I could push my thighs around it, lift up and down until you helplessly spurt all over them. Decisions, Decisions."

Rei has her mind made up, truly in Demon Form as she pushes you down. "So big, so hard." You breathe heavily as your tip is brushing against her, a Tremble while Rei rubs against you, it's bliss, hell, how quickly she's got you Enthralled.

"This cock is going deep inside me, I need it so badly." With that, Rei Follows Through, slipping down and engulfing every inch of you. She's intoxicating, like taking every Elite even though you know it's a bad idea. You just lay there and take it, she bounces and you watch your cock come out wetter than it was before.

She's quick, a Bombardment of bounces, skin slapping against each other. Rei is a very adamant woman, nothing is going to stop her from riding you like the world's going to explode. Not even an Heirloom Hammer to the face.

"You are going to see stars, generate stars, whatever, fuck." Well logic was out of the window awhile ago, you are just happen to get Bury'd deep inside of Rei. She's so horny that she can't maintain rhythm, just chasing her Ascension 10. you both knew from the moment you began you were on Borrowed Time.

And now here you are, back at the beginning. Rei's the spire and you are the spire, she's delivering her attempt to finish the game by making you finish. Her turn's not over yet, being inside her raw has truly Captured your Spirit.

Sweat shines on her deliciously smooth skin, if her hands weren't forcing you into the bed you'd lick it all clean. Ravage her body like the eager slut you are. But you are always Thinking Ahead, and when she starts to slow you say nothing. Just pick her up and throw her back onto the bed. Your sex is the true roguelike experience, pick a different build (face riding, cock riding) and still go onto the same route.

How poetic.

You pounce onto her, sliding into her cunt at the same time you are on top of her. Your dick must be enchanted with Momentum the way her moans get louder with every time you push deep, targeting the right spots. "Fuck ne harder, fuck!"

You lick all the salty sweat off her skin, it turns you on so much that you throb helplessly inside of her. But this is not where the run ends, you are far too Feral. "Oh, oh my god, okay! Fuck me, fuck me harder!" You were surprised you were even able to, Overlocking your thrusts and Doubling your Energy. Everything to make Rei feel euphoric, even if you have to Scavenge the power to keep going.

"I, your cock is so good! I can't hol-" Rei gives up, cumming her brains out as you plow her through it. impressive how you don't follow, she Claw's at your back while you pound her like a Osty. You are fucking her full, the only thing left to do is…

Your orgasm Rattles you, dumping your thick load deep inside, filing her to the brim– you are truly the Conqueror to her spire, hitting the Knockup Blow instead of the Knockout Blow. The legend, another Victory? Her walls milk more of your cum out. she's bred, happy.

But, there's four acts.

Something happens, a spark, you've been fucking on video game logic and this is no different. A few minutes and you are inside Rei's tight asshole, lube was the three keys. This is the summit, you've never been here before but your memory is crystal clear.

Normally you fight a spear, this time you are the spear, spearing inside of her. The easiest way to a girl's heart is to make her cum, so it seems like you will be finishing this final act. Rei's ass cheeks Thunderclap with every thrust, it's total Havoc. It's sort of like a multiplayer card, you pound her ass like she begs and she fingers her cum filled pussy.

Teamwork.

You continue to Heavenly Drill the another orgasm out of her, another shriek and more. No matter how many times you make her cum, you never seen to get further in winning the fight. An infinite stalemate, though her juices Splash off her fingers and into the bed, which is close enough to a victory.

"Please, treat my ass however you want! Fuck, keep going!" The entire street hears it, a Countdown is active. You can only go for so long, a final Spur to make sure this orgasm is The Bomb. "More, please, please, please, I Am Invincible I can take it!"

Helix, Heavenly, what does it matter? You are drilling her, time is drawing to an end. You are Doomed, flooding her asshole with a load of it's own, that's the true Victory. Rei completely dripping, both your cum and her sheer arousal. Converged into one.

It's complete Mind Rot when you pull out, watching it flow out all into a pile, your body is Withering. This run might be over. But you and Rei can definitely do another some other time.

"That was really… really good. You are my new fuck toy, got it?"

"Hey, babe. Long day?" you ask softly, rising from the couch. Minjeong doesn't answer, blank eyes looking forward. She takes a while to register your presence, neck dragging to face you. "Evening," she croaks.

You pout, wanting to comfort her. "Wanna talk about it, or need distractions?"

Her eyes bounce lazily, tongue licking her dry lips. "No talk. Want quiet."

"Okay. Come here, I got you." You extend your arms, but it earns you a sharp glare. 

"Shut up."

"Sorry?"

"Shut...the fuck up. Want quiet!" she growls. You lower your arms and gulp, sweaty hands rubbing on your thighs. Walk towards her slowly, keeping your eyes on hers. Closing the distance, you gingerly wrap your arms around her; a light hug.

Several seconds pass before Minjeong sighs and rests her head on the crook of your shoulder, dropping her bag. She doesn't hug you back, doesn't have to. You keep the light embrace, listening to each other's breathing. 

Suddenly, Minjeong pulls herself free, putting an arm's length between you. Then she yanks your sweatshirt's collar, sending your lips crashing into hers. 

She isn't gentle whatsoever. Her mouth is hungry, insistent, devouring yours with burning fervor. You yelp and moan and she unlatches briefly, slapping you hard. "Shut up I said. How many times do I gotta say it?"

Oh she is stressed stressed. Work must've been a real bitch. You remember she's going through her PMS as well. This will not be easy on you, and you're equally thrilled and terrified.

Minjeong keeps your mouths locked as she pushes you towards the couch. She's groaning, whining into your lips. You, meanwhile, try your best to stay silent as she asked. Every little audible slip-up is met with a harsh slap, stinging your cheek and hardening you below at the same time.

Your legs hit the couch. Fall backwards, no attempt to get up. Just lie there while you watch Minjeong ditch her blazer and unbutton her shirt, untucking it from her pencil skirt.

"Strip. Everything." Her command is short and clear, you obey straight away. "Faster!" You make haste, abandoning any regard to pride that you foolishly kept.

The moment you're bare, Minjeong leaps onto you, straddling your hips. She bites her lip, grinding hard and slow, her heat driving you crazy even through all the fabric. 

Another moan escapes you. She's fast to discipline with a hard slap across your face, the hardest one yet. "You...are gonna give me what I want. Exactly as I tell you, or you'll get more of that. Understood? Nod."

You nod just once, feeling any extra will earn another slap. Minjeong's mouth stretches to a predatory grin, hiking up her tight pencil skirt to slide off her panties. Gosh, she is so hot.

"Open." She stuffs her white panties into your mouth. "Good boy. Don't think that means you can make sounds. Got it?" 

You nod, getting high off her musk. Minjeong lines up her wetness with your tip, then slams down. She lets out a guttural moan, fingernails digging into your shoulder. It takes all of your might to maintain silence but you manage, tearing up instead.

"Fuuck yes...needed this dick. So fucking hard..." Minjeong doesn't bounce, she rolls her hips, letting every inch of her depth feel you. The motion is equally arousing for your eyes and shaft, you bite down on her panties hard.

Your arms go to her waist by instinct, she knife hands them away. "No...touching. Did I say you can touch? Keep them where they are!" They resort to grabbing the couch instead, increasingly difficult as time passes and they get sweaty.

Some thrusts in, one in particular is too much for you, letting out a choked cry in response. Minjeong snarls and delivers a slap, her hand resting around your neck. Not choking, but enough pressure to establish herself.

"I've—had enough...of those—ahh! Assholes telling me around. Yelling and treating me like—mmhhh! Like I'm trash." She laughs, a daunting sound among the claps of skin. "So you shut up and take what you're given. I'm giving the orders here, got it?"

Your eyes struggle to stay open as you nod, tears obscuring your vision. Minjeong's hips pick up speed, her rolls becoming shallower and more intense. "Oh fuck! Ahhh!" Her first orgasm surges through her, drawing out a long, melodic moan as her body spasms.

"Ngghhh! Don't you dare fucking cum before I tell you! You don't decide how I use this dick. Got it?"

Your nod is accompanied by a loud, helpless whimper. No way you're staying quiet and not busting with how insane her pussy's grip and wetness is. It's met with a slap as expected, but you’re starting to go numb. Heck, it's downright enjoyable.

"Mmhhh, my baby boy. You're so adorable under me," she sighs, bending down and licking your cheeks as a brief remedy. You shudder at the sensation, then gasp as Minjeong gets going again, hard and fast from the off.

"Ahh...babe. You wanna—argh! Fuck! Wanna cum? Wanna breed this—pussy?"

Nodding multiple times now, to hell with the single nods. You're desperate, begging for release. Panties are completely soaked with drool, flowing down the sides of your head. 

Minjeong shifts her angle, now she actually is bouncing. It's shocking and  borderline painful, arching your back, knees bucking up. But she just giggles in between her long, loud moans, eyes hazy with euphoria.

"You're so desperate, aren't you?" she mewls. "Wanna let go? Fill me up? Want it so bad?"

You nod continuously, knowing it's the only right answer anyways. Minjeong shrieks and grabs your hands, bringing them to her waist. "Touch me." You waste no time gripping it like a lifeline, cock aching for release.

"Gahhh, what a good boy. Now give it to me, baby. Let go, fill me u—arghhh!" 

Not one second after hearing 'fill', you burst. Pent-up load blowing deep in her cunt. Broken cry slipping past your mouth, but Minjeong doesn't hear it. Not over the wails of her second orgasm, eyes rolled back as she milks your cock.

Minjeong collapses forward, her heavy breaths softening into thin wheezes next to your ear. Your eyelids become heavy, you relax your body, about to doze off—

"Hey," Minjeong's soft albeit slightly hoarse voice brings you back. "You okay, babe? Oh, your cheeks are so red!"

You chuckle weakly in response as she takes out her panties and drums her fingers over your cheeks. "Does it hurt?"

"It–urgh. It did, but...no problem. Really...liked it. Ehe."

"Tsch. You little freak." Minjeong pokes your reddened cheeks before kissing them gently, earning a delighted hum from you. "My freak."

"Mhm. How are you feeling? Feel better?" you ask, lightly playing with her damp hair.

"Yeah. Got...got it outta my system. Thanks, babe."

"Anytime." Your turn to kiss her now, once on the temple and another on her lips.

"Dinner?"

"Mmm...I gotta—we...clean up first. Carry me to the shower?" she murmurs, resting her chin on your chest.

You giggle at an idea that popped up in your head. "Sure...but there's a toll."

Minjeong raises an eyebrow, her breath hitching as she feels your cock twitching and hardening inside her. "Yeah? What is it?" She smirks and tilts her head.

"Another round. In the shower," you reply, rolling your hips slowly. Minjeong bites her lip and sighs, her eyelids fluttering. "Deal."

Deal sealed, you heave yourselves off of the couch, carrying Minjeong in your arms as she wraps her arms and legs around you. A good few pecks and giggles are exchanged throughout, gradually reigniting your passion.

That passion manifests as a slow candle flame rather than the firestorm that was the couch. Minjeong lets out small mewls and whimpers as you worship her neck, back and shoulders with your lips. Below, your hips roll into her tight pussy from behind, thrusting deep but gentle.

“Can you like… stay fucking still??” She hissed as she firmly squeezed your wrist, holding it right above her palm.

She was hunched over your hand. Her face was obstructed by locks of her bob, so close to your fingers you could feel the soft warmth of her breath coursing through them. Her gaze was fixed on your nails while she drew perfect, deliberate strokes on them.

She was doing nail art, on your nails. Not that it hurt your masculinity or anything—in fact, you had always liked how she did her nails. It was just that it was the first time she’d asked you to be her “guinea pig” for her designs. Well, “asked” was putting it too nicely. She had practically kidnapped you out of your 67th play through of Baldur’s Gate III. Though, for someone who ran a nail art shop—a side hustle, as she’d always corrected you—it was ridiculous that somehow she had run out of practice tips.

“You know you have your own nails, right?” you said, earning yourself another squeeze, her sharp nails now digging into your wrist. Heh, fortunate you were masochistic enough for the pain. Hell, the wincing from your bitten lower lip could’ve been mistaken for a moan had she not been so focused on drawing the final stroke.

“I hope you stub your toes, actually” she said, rolling her eyes as she applied the final coatings. “I told you I ran out of rounded tips. I’ve done my nails already, and you just happened to have… neatly clipped nails, ‘kay?”

“You could always ask Jiwoo to come over,” you shrugged.

“And let you ogle at my girlfriend again? No thank you, perv.” She scoffed, doing a final check, admiring her brand new design.

She carefully brought both of your hands into the UV machine. “And as much as I wanna nail my girlfriend,” she looked up expectantly before turning on the machine, checking to see if you’d misinterpreted her words. And of course, you were putting on the most annoying grin ever. “Her nails are usually long. Not only that, she’s also currently away.” The UV light cast upon your fingers as she pressed the power button. “And this is a practice anyway. Soo… I don’t wanna mess up her nails, if I were to mess up.”

“So if you mess me up, that is okay?”

She crossed her arms on the desk, grinning so smugly it was so obvious to her “Why else would I drag you here, bozo?”

“To… ogle at your girlfriend’s girlfriend?” you said, so lightly you started to wonder how come she hadn’t kicked you out yet for being so down bad for her for the longest time.

“Ha, ha. Don’t even need to drag you along with me when you’re fucking ogling me all the time.” She rolled her eyes distastefully, yet somehow endearingly. “You’re lucky you somehow happened to be my bestest friend—”

“With benefits?”

“—of high quality nail art, that is.” she said, putting on a mocking smile, flexing her nails centimeters away from your face.

“Unfortunately…” Your gaze shifted from her decorated nails to her obstructed face across her fingers. “They are really, really cool though. You know I love them all.”

“See? You can be somewhat nice.” She threw her hands up as she leaned back on her chair, quite taken aback by your genuine compliment. “Is it really so hard to appreciate your home girl’s work, instead of her body all the time?”

“Can’t help it,” you shrugged innocently, as if it was normal to begin with. You were lucky indeed she was also weird like that. “So… how long does this usually take?” You looked back at your illuminated fingers under the violet light.

“Couple minutes tops.” she says dismissively, opening her phone to check on her girlfriend.

“You’re taking my sweet sweet time from finishing the game, y’know?”

“Sweet time my ass, you’re still in Act 1, save scumming tryna steal Voss’ Sword for HOURS! IT’S YOUR 67th PLAYTHROU-” She cut her own words off to catch a minuscule movement of your hands. She dropped her phone and immediately halted your hands before you could even attempt to pull them out.

Oh, how she knew you very, very dearly.

“Nooo you are NOT doing the 67 HAND THINGY, KEEP YOUR HANDS IN!! HOW OLD ARE YOU??”

“Old enough… according to Miss JiU next door.” you grinned ever so smugly with such confidence, name-dropping the MILF next door the two of you had been thirsting over ever since moving in.

“She is such a MILF isn’t she… yeah….” Her mind instantly got distracted, wandering off to the resident MILF. Then, it dawned on her. She shook off the thoughts to fully process what you’d just said. “W-wait… YOU’RE FLIRTING WITH HER?”

“Jealous much?”

“Nah, with that behavior of yours? Highly unbelievable actually.” She leaned forward mockingly, her arms crossed on the desk.

“AckSHualLy ☝️🤓… I’m only like this when I’m with you, bestie <3” you winked.

“Okay, gross.” She cringed. “Sweet, but gross.”

“I have always been sweet, what is you talm bout.”

“You have been, weirdly, INAPPROPRIATELY sweet—even for your standards, which are in hell. If I were dense, I wouldn’t have noticed the pattern that you want something.” She said, her eyes suspiciously narrowing.

“I suppose I am deserving of a small form of gratitude for being your… object of interest today, my Lady.”

“Disinterest, actu-” she shot her eyes out before you could even air out another AckSHualLy. She sighed. “But fine, whaddya want, my… Unbecoming Lord?”

“Let’s just say I happened to have uhh… other rounded tip you can practice on too. Would that be of your interest as well, madame?”

“You’re saying you want me to prick your dick with the brush, 2 kids 1 sandbox style??” That was a deep cut, literally.

“YOU’RE OOLLLD”

“SO ARE YOU!!! So keep your dick to yourself… eugh.” Her eyes drifted back to her phone as it was vibrating.

Jiwoo sent a video.

She stood up, moving from her chair to her bed just behind it, sitting on the edge.

The play button still unpressed—she didn’t even need to. She could tell it was a spicy one just by looking at the blurred thumbnail, filled with colors akin to Jiwoo’s skin tone.

This has gotta be the worst timing ever, she thought. But truly, she blamed herself. She couldn’t possibly be mad at her girlfriend for sending a spicy video, nor could she blame the timing, for she had been so fucking horny for the past week since Jiwoo left for a work trip.

She glanced at you. Then back to her phone.

You again, then back.

Her eyes resorted to her fingers, though with such pity. Her own fingers hadn’t been doing it for her the past few days, not to mention she currently had sharp nails on.

Then she looked up at you once again, lost in thought, probably thinking of another multi-class combo.

I’m going fucking crazy, she cursed herself. I can’t possibly be even considering this mf…

“... Unless…” her heart skipped a beat. Her body acted faster than her mind. She was desperately horny.

“Am listening…” You locked the fuk in.

“Unless you’re the very last person on earth. Then, I’d consider it.”

“CONSIDER??? Girl you’d be fucking no one but me.”

“No, I meant it when I say you’re the very last person on earth. I’d kill myself before we even—”

Fuck, she cursed. That was somewhat a nice save, but her last sentence? She’d be lying to herself knowing she was actually considering you. But time was crueler still, never sparing her, as the alarm on her phone rang, forcing her to nod at you, beckoning you to come.

“Sooyoung-ah…” You towered her, showing off the finished result to her face. “These are fucking rad.”

“I know.” She held your hands, pulling them slightly to observe the details, while you, instinctively, knelt before her lap, resting your arms on her thighs.

She grabbed her phone to take pictures of your nails, another masterpiece added to her catalog.

As she angled her phone for the final pic, she saw you through the screen.

On your knees.

Between her legs.

Your elbows positioned off her shorts, touching her bare exposed thi-

“You done?” you interrupted her tweaking, tilting your head into view of her screen.

“Y-yeah…” She shook her head, then took the final picture.

She reviewed every picture attentively. Her thumb tapped in to zoom, then swiped onto the next pic every other second. She kept swiping and swiping, even after the final pic, she didn’t keep track of how many she’d taken, and it happened.

Jiwoo’s video slid into view of her screen.

That’s it.

“Ookaayy… I’m keeping these on, by the way. Lowkirkenuinely sick af.”

I can’t hold it anymore.

“Uuuh… Sooyoung?”

I’m so sorry, Chagiya.

“I’ll… Leave it to you then… Hope it sells a fuck ton tho.”

Before you could even stand up properly, she held you down. Her grip firm on your shoulder, pinning you onto the floor.

You were preparing for the worst. You did pull your hand out from the machine once to scratch your balls when she wasn’t looking. Well, at least that’s what you’d thought, perhaps she had seen you after all, and now you were so fucked.

“S-sooyoung-ah… I-” You looked up to her.

“Shut up.”

“A man has his needs… And I needed to sc-”

“Exactly. And I have mine too.” She stared down at you.

“huH……. You have a girl dih??” Your eyebrows shot up through the roof, and you were down for whatever she had down there.

“W-what??? Well, I kinda wish,” she recoiled before taking your query thoughtfully for a second, “but no, what the fuck are you talking about??” She groaned at your stupid question. But despite that, she sighed—not at you, but at her own resignation to temptation.

You would do.

“Anyways…” she finally pressed the play button. “Jiwoo’s been away.”

Heavy breathing.

“W-what is this……”

Faint squelching.

“And my fingers not doing it as of late.”

Soft whimpers.

“So, I’m giving you this one chance...”

A sudden sharp moan.

“... Of…?” You asked.

Then came a soft feminine voice, calling out to… Sooyoung??

“To…” She hesitated, but eventually broke off her own shackles… kinda. “K-… kiss my… kitty…”

“… But, we don’t have a kit-”

“MY PUSSY GOD DAMMIT!” She yelled as she grabbed the hem of her shorts and pushed them down off her legs, together with her panties. Her movement was ragged and desperate, her legs kicking you off your balance, your elbow propping you up on the floor.

And there you had it.

For years you had been so down bad for the hottest woman you’d ever known. No visual cues, hints, or even reciprocal teasing that’d lead to anything. Somehow life was worth living again, as now Ha Sooyoung, your lifelong hot best friend, had her kitty out in the open, mere centimeters away from your senses.

“Oh… THAT kitty….”

“Yes, this kitty…”

Her face was lush red, both embarrassed and horned tf out. She gathered all her courage, and with a groan, she said. “Let’s just say this is your reward for… whatever reason.” She scoffed. “Tch, my girlfriend just sent a video of her fingering the fuck out of her pussy, and I’ve been horny af for the past week, and I wanna touch myself but my fingers not cutting it anymore.” She sighed. “Look, just fucking eat me while I watch my girlfriend finger herself.”

All your down bad comments towards her, your teasing—all of them just gone. Nothing in your life could’ve prepared you for all that. You tried to process the series of words she’d just said, especially the last one. She was asking you to eat her out, WHILE she watched her girlfriend screw herself??? You didn’t even know if you were being a cuck or if Sooyoung was just being sinfully unfaithful—maybe even both. But none of that mattered anymore when you were rock hard, mouth agape, still fixated on her pussy with Jiwoo’s moaning in the background.

You gently wrapped your arms around her thighs from below, you were so close to her pussy you could breathe in her musk doing you like crack. It was dripping, through the tendrils of her well-kept bush. Not that it bothered you—somewhere in the back of your mind, a voice definitely yours said Even better. The hem of her black tank top rode up, your eyes tracked the soft thin happy trail up to her exposed navel, then eventually you met her flushed gaze from above. You could never be happier in life, being put in place by your hot lesbian home girl.

“Y-you sure about this…?”

Her left hand ran through your hair, grasping what she could palm. You could feel her desperation in her nails poking your scalp, while the other held the moaning device for her to watch.

“Just fucking eat me, bozo.”

And so you did, unleash the beast.

You kissed her kitty—though not the way you’d kiss a real kitty, obviously. You ate her like you hadn’t eaten for weeks. You ran your tongue in laps and laps all over her pussy as if cleaning her girl juice off, replacing it with your own saliva. She tasted nothing like the countless 2AM sessions in your head (and hand). She tasted miles better, intoxicating as you breathed her in, the folds and crevices felt like they’d been perfectly sculpted for your tongue to slip into.

But that was putting your hunger too nicely.

It was more like you were in a biology exam with a blindfold on, mapping out her pussy with your tongue and trying to answer what part, what flesh or folds of her pussy it was. But the best part was, you didn’t know shit about biology.

You swirled around her clit, then sucked it with such suction you were basically slurping on it. Congratulations—you earned yourself a guttural moan from her. She started slow, but eventually rode your face, finding the right answer—which you weren’t going to spit out to begin with.

“F-fuck… Chagiya…” She moaned, her eyes totally fixated on Jiwoo’s sticky fingers pumping into her pussy.

Well, that wasn’t your name, but it was now. You were standing in for a lesbian with supple tits and the most God-sent DSL apparently. Was it cuck-ish? Kinda. You’d argue Jiwoo was the cuck, considering you were the one eating Sooyoung. But that was beside the point, and the point being how Sooyoung wasn’t even complaining or bullying you for your tongue game. Knowing her, she would’ve bullied you for the most nothing-burger reason ever, and honestly, she might’ve been for the past few minutes. But you wouldn’t have heard it anyway, all you could still hear were both of them moaning, though faintly, due to her plush thighs suffocating you from both sides. You could feel all the pressure of her grasping hand from above, all around your head, wrapped between her legs.

She’s fucking enjoying this, you patted your ego in the back.

Your tongue game matched that of a lesbian eating a pussy. Your ego blasted off the roof, you’d successfully masked yourself as Jiwoo, with a rock-hard cock down under, that is.

Jiwoo with a cock.

Jiwoo with a cock? Jiwoock??

That didn’t sound bad at all, actually. But you were Jiwoo now—did that count as self-cest? You’d been given a chance to be in heaven—that was, Ha Sooyoung’s pussy—and you were still thinking of another girl with a cock. By Merlin’s beard, you were greedy.

You grew bolder as your left hand slithered up, roaming on her flat tummy, which you’d cummed on multiple times in your dreams. Meanwhile, your right hand was in the rightest place of all, slipping under her tank top to join forces with her own hand groping her tits.

“You’re not allowed to be this— Aah…!” You squeezed her nipple. “F-fucking go~od!” She finally referred to you for the first time in minutes. Not Jiwoo, you. Thank God it wasn’t self-cest after all.

She looked ungodly above you. Darker spots of moisture started wetting her top. She was still holding up her phone, her arm pinned high, perfectly exposing a small, tantalizing opening of her right armpit to your view from below. Your eyes greedily tracked down all beads of sweat trickling down from her flushed forehead and neck, pooling right at the delicate, sensitive hollow at the base of her arm. She is swelteringly sweating. It was so damp you could literally see small reflection from the room lighting gleaming off her slick skin.

The intoxicating musk of her raw sweat mixed with her arousal sending a feral jolt straight to your broin—brain and groin. A thick bead of sweat trailed down the soft crease, soaking the trim of her tank top’s armhole. Your mouth practically watered along with her wetness, down dripping on the floor. You stared at the glistening textured folds of the hollow, a degenerate, desperate, pathetic thought crossed your mind.

Maybe, if you ate her out hard enough, she would actually indulge your sickly, filthy fantasy on her.

So you nuzzled her clit as you buried your face deeper. But not as deep as your tongue, working inside her pussy so hard she crossed her calves behind your neck, locking and pulling you deeper in her pussy. Suddenly, death by suffocation didn’t sound bad at all.

Though as much as Sooyoung loved getting fucked by your… no, Jiwoo’s? Nah, it was your tongue—she needed something more. Something that could reach deeper, something more rigid. And she could only think of your digits, for now.

So her wish was your command.

You trailed your left hand down to her mound, stopping right on her clit. You’d dreamed about this. Numerous times you had sacrificed enough sleepless nights jacking off while writing about rubbing one out for Ha Sooyoung. But somehow your fingers worked her clit with way too much care in contrast to the beast, that was your tongue. They were stiff, careful, and definitely not sensual at all. So you switched up the strategy.

You were now back to sucking her clit while your fingers down there hesitantly rubbed, and rubbed, and rubbed. You knew how to finger a woman—you had seen videos, read fan fics, and pretty sure this wasn’t your first rodeo with a woman. You were being awkward af.

Then, it hit you. You still got your nails on. You really didn’t want to ruin it, you actually liked her design and genuinely appreciate the art. You really wished you had Mage Hand right now, on second thought that’d actually be so hot. But again, that was beside the point, you had a better question. Is it even safe…?

Sooyoung noticed, of course she did.

“The fuck… Are you doing…?” She said, in the middle of her panting.

You pull off your tongue out of her pussy, your lips smothered by her girl juice. “It’s… Been a while, y’know?” You reasoned weakly.

“No shit. Somehow your foul mouth works better in my pussy than your neat fingers.” Backhanded as it was, you took half the compliment to your ego. “You never touched a woman before??”

“I have-!”

“Eaten a woman? Yeah, I can tell. But your finger game lacking so bad omg you’re ruining the mood!” She yelled, her brows furrowed as she glared at you intensely from above, and of course your ass only got hornier seeing her angry like this.

“I-… I don’t wanna mess up my nails, okay!?”

You could see a faint blush on her cheeks. Despite her blazing arousal, she was genuinely flattered that you actually cared that much about her work.

“I-it won’t mess ‘em up!” she argued, reaching down to grab your wrist.

“Is it even safe???” you hesitated. As much as you wanted to ruin her, you didn’t want to actually make her sick or anything.

“YES!”

“How would you know?”

“… Grok.”

“I’m leaving.”

“I’m fucking kidding!” She let out an exasperated laugh, her nails digging firmly into your wrist. “I’m a nail artist, dumb ass! I WOULD KNOW.”

She let her phone slip from her grasp, tumbling onto the messy sheets to her right, though you could still hear Jiwoo’s soft moaning hands free. She twisted your freshly painted digits, angling it directly against her soaking entrance.

“So, shut up,”

She didn’t even give you a chance to argue. With a firm, determined pull of your arm, she forcefully thrust two of your fingers deep inside herself.

“And stop thinking about your nails.”

So you did.

At this point, you were sure your pre-cum was already wetting your boxers just from the extremely lewd, shattered moan ripped from her throat the second your fingers cave in. But alas, you let go of your restraint completely. Fuck your nail, literally. You curled your fingers and drove them deep into her core. She could feel the smooth, cold surface of your freshly cured nails rushing along the slick of her soaking walls. You fell into a ruthless rhythm, thrusting and curling your knuckles upward against her sweet spot relentlessly like it was a button mashing Quick Time Event, all while your tongue kept its starving, aggressive assault on her swollen clit.

“F-fuck! God, y/n!” Sooyoung shrieked, her back arching off the mattress, she was seeing stars.

At last, she succumbed to you. She lost it the moment she found it fucking hot seeing you under her mercy like a dog. She had completely forgotten about who she was fantasizing on her knees. The last remaining remnant of Jiwoo was the moaning on her phone she’d discarded next to her face. It was a man, only you, her perverted gooner best friend between her thighs giving her the best oral she had ever gotten.

Her hips bucking against your fingers while she threw both her hands up, grasping the sheets above her head. She was basically presenting herself to you. With a loud slurp on her clit, you started trailing wet kisses up her happy trail, tasting the sweat up pass her navel, to the hem of her tank top just below her tits. Her small under boobs peaked just enough to get you riled up even more. With your free hand you took her top off.

You had seen her braless in a thin see through shirt before, you swore if someone were to ask where exactly her nipples are placed, you’d know it by heart. But seeing her fully topless like this was just a whole another level. You squeezed it with your free hand, earning another italic moan from her. Sure, she wasn’t as well endowed as your ex Hyeju. But you couldn’t care less.

Tits are tits, and man’s gotta eat.

Your tongue hit first, swish and flicking around her light brown nipple. With a firm squeeze of your hand, you sucked on it hard you were practically milking the fuck out of her.

“Harder!” She arched her back, catching your mouth.

“Which one?” You asked as you lightly grazed her nipple with your teeth, slightly biting on it.

“HnnGHh~ FUCK!” She howled. “Both, fucker.”

“Say less.” You upped your fingers tempo, more ragged and messy, while your mouth switch between her tits sloppily, covering them with your saliva.

Then it was time.

Your free hand pinned hers above as you dragged your tongue from her left tit, upwards, not to her neck nor collarbone, but the sensitive, glistening armpit. Your tongue glided along the axis, lapping all the sweat pooled at the now fully exposed hollow.

Sooyoung flinched, a sharp gasp ripping from her throat.

“Wait—what the fuck??” she shrieked, her body squirming against your hold. She looked down at you lavishing her armpit, her face burning, humiliated red. “EW, Y/N, STOP! That’s mmngHh~ disgusting! I haven’t showered all fucking day!”

She tried to twist her arm away from your pinning, glaring at you with a mix of genuine disgust and a newfound arousal. “You’re a fucking FREAK oh my G~od!”

But you paid her no mind, her protests fading into the background beneath the deafening, wet slurping of your own depravity. You definitely rolled a NAT 20 today. You had always secretly loved how she smelled every morning you passed by her at the kitchen counter. Since it was a lazy holiday afternoon after all, meaning she had no plans, home all day, there was absolutely no need for her to put on any deodorants or perfume. So the Unwashed status effect multiplied to her natural pheromones, and having her arm pinned securely above her head gave her an automatic Disadvantage on all Strength saving throws. And it left you with a 100% guaranteed hit chance to feast upon the raw, unfiltered, intoxicating musk that was uniquely her.

So you took full advantage of her debuff completely. You nuzzled your nose into the damp skin as you dragged your wet tongue deeper into her sensitive hollow, meticulously mapping out the topography of her underarm like a starved explorer. You could literally feel the delicate texture as your tongue pushing ruthlessly into every tiny, slick crevice and fold, slurping obscenely, savoring the sharp, salty tang of the raw moisture straight out of her pores.

Her disgusted remarks now fractured into breathy, needy whine. Her pinned arm went limp, fingers twitching helplessly on the mattress. She couldn’t help but get aroused by your weird kink.

“F-fuck… You’re so gross.” She whimpered, her voice cracking.

Contrast to her own insult, her free arm suddenly flew, wrapping tightly around the back of your head. Her fingers tangled deeply into your hair, nails pricking your scalp, forcefully shoving you deeper into the damp hollow, smothering you in her raw musk, all while her hips subconsciously bucked harder against your fingers still relentlessly plowing her soaking core.

“Oh my God…” She sobbed out. “Don’t stop.”

She was finally close. You could feel the tension in her thighs, her walls inside tightening, trapping your fingers like that one scene in A New Hope as she desperately chased her climax.

You were both entirely preoccupied, blissfully lost in the filthy, undeniable sin you were committing on this God-forsaken mattress. But you felt something missing from all of this.

You consented to this, she definitely consented to this.

Then it dawned on you. You asked yourself, isn’t there somebody you forgot to ask?

“I don’t!” Time said, ever so cruel.

The screen of her phone lit up brightly, cutting off the spicy video that was somehow still looping after what it felt like 30 minutes, with a deafening, obnoxious ringtone.

“Ring-ding-ding-ding-dingeringeding!“

You froze.

You heard it right, you couldn’t possibly mistake it. It wasn’t the generic default ringtone of any normal device. It wasn’t as if the writer didn’t know how phones ring—they definitely knew exactly what a default iOS or Android ringtone sounded like.

No, this was definitely a targeted assault on the reader. The writer had specifically chosen to ruin it with the 2013 viral electronic dance hit “What Does the Fox Say” by Ylvis.

“Wa-pa-pa-pa-pa-pa-pow!“ the phone blasted at max volume from the messy sheets, obliterating the filthy tension between the two of you.

Incoming Call: Jiwoo

“SHIT!” Sooyoung hissed.

With sheer panic, she violently shoved you off your balance. You tumbled backward off the mattress, hitting the floor with a hard thud, bruising your elbows.

“What the fu—”

“SHUT UP! Shut up, shut up, shut up.” she frantically shush-ed you. She scrambled to sit upright, cleared her hoarse throat, and accepted Jiwoo’s call on loud speaker.

“H-heeyy… Chagiya!” Sooyoung answered, her voice was an octave higher than usual.

“Heyy… Are you… Okaay?” Jiwoo’s sweet, concerned voice echoed through the now quiet room. “I was just… Worried. I sent you the video like half an hour ago and you haven’t replied since. Was it a bad time…? I’m so so—”

“NO!” Sooyoung even startled herself. She cleared her throat again. “I mean, yeah! I saw it! It was… Great!” She stammered. Her pants ragged, chest still heaving as she tried to regulate her breathing. “There is… Absolutely nothing wrong. I was just… Busy!”

There was something so hot the way she referred to both your uncouth shenanigans as busy.

Heh, busy? I’ll show you busy

A mischievous, wicked grin stretched across your face. You got back on your knees, moving right back between her dangling legs off the edge of the bed. Sooyoung’s eyes widened in horror as she realized exactly what you were about to do. She glared down at you, silently mouthing “Don’t you fucking dare.”

Despite her glaring, her legs didn’t show any sign of restraint or fight as you spread it wide open once again. You leaned in and aggressively buried your face right back to where it belonged, Ha Sooyoung’s soaking, edging core.

Sooyoung jolted, her spine snapping straight. Her free hand flew up, slapping it over her mouth to hold her squealing. But of course, that wasn’t enough to contain the pleasure in from her phone.

“Chagiya…?” Jiwoo’s concerned voice now had a slight suspiciously teasing tone to it. “Are you… Out of brea—”

“NO!” Sooyoung forced out an answer through her gritting teeth. Her knuckles gripping the phone turned white as you swirled your tongue mercilessly, slurping her dripping folds. “I just… Dropped something!”

There was a moment of silence on Jiwoo’s end of the line. Then, a soft, incredibly sweet giggle echoed from her line.

“Chagiya… Are you…? Are you touching yourself to my video right now??” Jiwoo teased, her tone completely shifted playfully.

Sooyoung was in absolute chaos. She was terrified of getting caught, but the sheer thrill of her girlfriend unknowingly listening to her get eaten out by her bestie was too much for her to handle. She wanted to deny it, push you away and end whatever the fuck this was. But her body betrayed her completely, and so did her mind, consumed by the unfaithful arousal.

“… Perchance…”

“Oh my God!” You could hear Jiwoo’s laughing echoed through the room. “But it was only like one half a minute video! Were you looping it? You’ve been gooning to me this whole time?”

“Yeah… You, only you!” Oh how fired up you were listening to Sooyoung’s lies.

“You wanna kiss my kitty so bad hmm? Want me to kiss yours too?” Jiwoo teased, which Sooyoung could only give an agreeing moan as an answer. Ah, so this where the kitty kissing came from, you thought.

The absolute, catastrophic irony of the situation messed up your already messed up broin. You were eating the fuck out of Sooyoung’s pussy, while Jiwoo gave gooning instruction to her … And you? At this point, it worked both ways for Sooyoung and you. Of course, you wanted in too like yeah you wanna kiss Jiwoo’s kitty too. Now you and Sooyoung both were gooning to Jiwoo. This is so weird and fucking hot, you both thought respectively.

“So I was interrupting your gooning! Were you close, Chagiya?” God, Jiwoo’s cute giggle was so out of place yet her husky tone right now was so right.

“Mhmm…” Sooyoung whimpered, her fingers messing up your hair as your tongue relentlessly lapped her folds.

“Then tell me.” Jiwoo’s voice grew even huskier. “Tell me what you would have me do, if I was right, there. On the bed. With you. Tell me, Chagiya…”

You could see the massive lump going down Sooyoung’s throat. She turned her eyes to you as you greedily slurped her core. Unfortunately fortunate, she was just as fucked up as you. A wicked, fucked up idea sparked into life within her.

She didn’t even have to use her imagination, when she had you on her kitty.

“I’d want you… to spread my thighs,” she breathed heavily into the phone, live reporting your exact movements, word for word. “I want your face buried in my pussy… Swirling your tongue right on my clit… Sucking on it so ha~ard I can’t eve- Aah! Breathe!”

“Hmmm yeah… What else?” Jiwoo urged for more, her own breath hitching.

You smirked against Sooyoung’s wetness. You were more than happy to put on a live… Show? Podcast? Smut audio book for Jiwoo? Hell, whatever this was, you were nailing your role. But a stagnant, repetitive narration would only bore the audience. You had to be creative, feed more narration into Sooyoung, keep the audience entertained, you had to be the star.

So you flip the script.

You pulled your face off of her dripping slit and with firm grips under her thighs, you lifted her legs upward, exposing an entirely new different map. Sooyoung’s brows furrowed in confusion, she was positioned as if she was trying to give birth to electro pop.

And before she could even ask, you dragged down your soaked tongue from her pussy, then pressed it firmly onto the concave surface of her musky tight, puckered rim that was her asshole.

Sooyoung violently jolted you could feel her entire body shudder. “HNGH— FUUUUCKKK!” she shrieked, the unfiltered, no audio gate, soul-leaving-the-body kind of shriek. Her free hand flew up, grasping the sheets hard. Nothing in her life could’ve prepared her for an ass eating, they didn’t teach her about this in school. Her face burned aflame, mortified as you stared right back beneath her. She really didn’t want to narrate this newfound arousal, but she had to. She had to commit to the bit.

“I… I want...” She took the sheet to cover up her burning face as she shamefully confessed. “I want you to go lower…”

“L-lower…?”

“Yeah…” She whimpered, her hips bucking deliberately as you pushed the tip of your tongue into her tight pucker. “I want you to lick my ass…”

Another brief silence on the other end of the line. You could imagine Jiwoo’s stun locked face by Sooyoung’s confession.

“Wai-… Wha-… Really??” Jiwoo squeaked, Sooyoung’s confession completely rendered her off guard. “You… You want me to rim you…? Well, I… I never done it but… Since when are you into that?!”

“N-now??”

“I… I don’t know what to say!” She let out breathless laugh. “I mean, I would do it if you want to, Chagiya~” Her tone shifted back into that husky whisper.

That was it. That was your entry for Best Directing at the Academy Awards.

Jiwoo’s green light was basically a “Yes I will, in fact, eat ass.” for you, it was now lore accurate. With another swish and flick of your tongue, and her lower back literally levitating off the mattress, giving you unrestricted access to lap and scoop all the tangy, bitter sweat and musk. Professor Flitwick would be proud of you.

You flattened your tongue, made it rigid, and deliberately, you forcefully thrust the tip straight pass her puckered ring. It was incredibly, very, very tight. But Thank God your tongue was already warmed up and practically ripped the fuck up from the earlier biology exam. So you pushed through as hard as you possibly, physically could, essentially tongue fucking her dirty hole in a wet, filthy rhythm.

But then, you decided that the layer of filth was not enough for the climax.

So you added another.

While your tongue was busy violating her asshole, you brought your old friends, brother and sister finger, right back into the frame. You drove them straight back into her core, thrusting upward, pumping them against her sweet spot while perfectly in sync with the brutal movement of your tongue.

“Ch-chagiya—!” Sooyoung sobbed, she couldn’t even stand a chance, the double stimulation on both her holes rendered her overwhelmingly devastated. Her phone slipped and tumbled onto the mattress again as she grabbed fistfuls of your hair. “I’m— FUCK!”

Her spine arched so high and her trembling thighs clamped down aggressively, suffocating you in the splash zone.

Then, the dam finally broke.

She upcast Climax with a level 6 spell slot, her core convulsing as she flooded your hand with her release. She came so fucking hard that her spasming inside crushed your fingers, forcing them to slip out with a wet pop, drenching your face with her sweet, sticky girl juice.

“D-did you just… I never heard you cum that hard…” Jiwoo’s voice stunned from the discarded phone. “Maybe I should eat your ass when I go back home…”

“You… Should, Chagiya… T-thanks?” Sooyoung said out of breath, still coming down from her high.

“Anything for my baby apple <3 We’ll try it out next week~”

The call finally ended.

After you licked her sensitive pussy clean, you crawled over her on all fours. You both stared each other, flushed and exhausted. You licked your lips, wiping the last remaining of her cum as you put that smug grin back on your face.

“You’re… You’re fucking crazy…” She panted.

“You’re crazy too.”

“Armpits?? Really…??”

“Yeah… Really.”

“That was…” All of a sudden, she felt conscious of her armpit still sticky from your saliva earlier. “Fuck… I also can’t believe you ate my ass while— Tch, JIWOO WAS ON THE CALL!”

“And you fucking loved it.”

“Th-… That’s beside the point!” She blushed, she couldn’t deny how hot it was for her too. “Not a fucking word to her, you hear me??” She grabbed a fistful of your shirt.

Then, she felt her wetness in her palm, she had forgotten how hard she came, she didn’t realize she soaked your shirt. Her eyes then trailed down your whole body and stopped at the protruding relief on your pants, you were still completely clothed and hard. She scoffed, looking away from your face above. Then, with a deep sigh, she finally gave in.

With all the strength she had left, she shoved you to the side. The room lighting cast over her from above, she set the scene so fucking good as she was now on top of you, you could still see the glistening sweat, your drying saliva and her cum on her backlit body.

“I suppose… You deserve a reward.” Her hands scrambled to unbutton your pants.

“I thought that earlier was the reward?”

“Oh, so you don’t want me to go full on glizzy overdrive??” She let go the hem of your pants. “Fine.” She said dismissively.

“WAIT!” You instantly grabbed her before she could get off of you. “Hehe, please commence glizzy overdrive.”

She rolled her eyes as she got off the bed, getting on her knees and with a firm pull, she took off your pants and boxer altogether.

For the first time, she finally took witness of your cock, standing proud, towering her flushed face. She was expecting it to be disgusting, or ugly given to her preference. But the sheer size of your cock rendered her into a loading state you could see the clogs working in her mind, calculating the size of it compared to her face.

“Holy fuck…?” she said in awe.

“Nothing we done this afternoon has been hol-.”

“You’re fucking huge!” she cut you, her face shocked, with a spice of concern of her well-being as images of your cock if it were to get inside of her flooded her mind.

“Aw, you don’t have to sa-”

“NO LIKE… You’re HUGE huge…!” She reiterated, bringing her arm into frame. “It’s almost as big as my arm!!”

She hesitated, her expression was a mix of disgust and curiosity. But eventually, she reached for your cock. Her touch was hesitant, nails grazing along your length. She then tried wrapping her fingers but her index couldn’t even meet her thumb around the diameter. It felt painfully hard, like literally, you were holding it in for what it felt like a whole day. And considering the sun setting by the window, you were probably right.

“I literally can’t wrap my hand around it.” She said dumbfounded.

You sit up straight, and your dream came true.

Ha Sooyoung on her knees, holding your hard wet cock, ready to suck the life out of you.

You admired the ungodly sight for a tad bit too long, you were woken up by her squeeze on your shaft.

“Eugh… Just so you know, I never done this, obviously.” She started stroking half of your length with such distaste. “Is this fine?”

“Hmmnggh… A bit faster…” You moaned.

So she tried, her best at least.

As much as you want to bully her for her stroking game, you really, really needed this. This was literally the dream, you wouldn’t want her to leave you blue balled just because you were teasing her all the time. Though, eventually she caught onto a steady rhythm, her small hand pumping your length with just enough pressure, and surprisingly good grip. You threw your head back with a groan.

“Fucking perv.” She sneered. “You dreamed about this, huh?”

“Yeah…” You confessed so lightly, completely shameless. “Every night.”

She scoffed at your raw confession, rolling her eyes in exaggerated annoyance. But despite her protests, she applied more agonizing pressure to her strokes, her sharp nails would lightly graze against your throbbing length every one or two pumps.

“What a freak, jerking off to your best friend…” she mocked, leaning in closer as if she was inspecting the disgusting rod she were never interested in at first.

At first.

Fuck.

She paused her pumping. Her face was mere centimeters away, and as her bare chest heaved, she breathed in the musk radiating off your cock. Something about your musk just put her in a trance as she felt the shudders running along her body.

This is fucked.

Slowly, but hesitantly, she parted her glossy lips and stuck her tongue out. She pressed her flattened tongue to the base of your shaft and dragged it in one long, agonizingly slow lick all the way up to your tip, lapping up the dripping pre-cum from your slit.

She pulled back, her eyes widened in deep regret.

Not because it was gross—well, it was still gross for her, but she actually, highkey liked how you tasted.

She couldn’t believe what she was feeling. The sharp, salty tang of your hour long arousal completely turned something on within her. At this point, her cheeks were toast by how many times she had gone red. She lost the plot. She was supposed to be disgusted by your cock, but now it looks so disgustingly delicious I wanna swallow it whol— WHAT THE FUCK IS HAPPENING TO ME.

Before she hastily wiped her lips with the back of her hand, she glared up at you with masked arousal. You were utterly, pathetically desperate for her, and God he looks so pathetic I love it, she thought.

Fuck it all.

“You’re lucky I’m your best friend, perv.” she purred, deliberately, slowly licking the remaining slick off her glossy lips as she resumed her stroking.

“Can’t help it when you walk around half-naked around the place all the time” you countered.

“Oh, so it’s my fault you’re a fucking degenerate??” She squeezed harder, her voice dark yet clearly she turned on by your candidness. “No wonder I heard someone calling my name every other night, I thought this place was haunted. It was you after all, huh? Whining my name while you stroked this stupid, fucking massive thing.”

“Fuck… Yes… Sooyoung please—”

“Please what?”

“Suck my— Agh!” you hissed as she grazed her sharp nail along your slit.

“Hm? Can’t hear you.” She teased, letting out a breathy, arrogant laugh.

“Fuck you.”

“Hmph, you wish.” She smirked, deliberately misconstrued your cursing. “Beg for i—”

“Please please pleeasseee, suck my cock, Ha Sooyoung I’M TIRED OF JACKING OFF TO YOUR PICS EVERY DAY PLEASE JUST LET ME HAVE ONE CHANCE.”

…

Dead silence.

The sheer, unadulterated weight of your pathetic preaching hung heavily in the air. Sooyoung stopped her stroking on your shaft, her eyes went wide, blinking almost comedically as she tried to process the absolute all time low of your dignity.

For a moment, you thought you pushed it too far.

That was, until her lips twitched, followed by a snort, then immediately a full-chested laugh that shook her entire system. She laughed so fucking hard she collapsed against your thigh, completely obliterating her composure for a brief moment.

“Oh… My fucking God.” she wheezed, wiping her teary eyes. “I knew you were pathetic, but I didn’t know you were THIS pathetic.”

She let out another breathless giggle, shaking her head in disbelief. Then, with a sigh, she went back to your towering erection. She scoffed in disdain, though hungry as ever.

“I mean, seriously, look at this… thing.” she mocked, squeezing the thick base firmly, making your hips bucked helplessly. “It’s ridiculous. It’s disgustingly huge, it’s way too veiny, and honestly? It’s just fucking ugly.” and I fucking love it.

You let out a pathetic whimper, not even trying to defend your pride. You loved this.

“But…” she trailed off, her voice an octave lower as she smeared your pre-cum over your tip with her thumb. “I’m only going to suck it just because you’re begging me like such a good, pathetic, little dog.” She said, dangerously close you could feel her hot breath making you throb harder.

She puckered her glossy lips and with a smack, she kissed your frenulum.

She parted her lips, her eyes staring right back at your heavy dirty soul.

“And you’re lucky I actually like you this way.”

Before the red could fill your entire face, she flattened the tip of her tongue on your frenulum, then slowly, she took your weeping head directly into her mouth. Her plush lips sealed around it, in an ever so agonizing pace, she sank down with her tongue flattened, gliding along the underside of your length. You let out a guttural groan, bliss rushing through your veins.

This was it.

You had finally reached the absolute peak of your existence.

Countless sleepless nights and pathetic, desperate fantasies…

Ha Sooyoung actually had your cock in her mouth.

However, as she started to bob on your length, a sharp sting followed.

“Aish— FUck,” you hissed, your cock twitched and tensed as her front teeth clumsily scraped against the sensitive skin of your shaft.

Despite the blazing hot dominant aura she just put on, it was a painful reminder that she was still very much a lesbian. She had absolutely zero idea how to suck a cock properly. She was rather amateur, sloppy and uncoordinated. Not that you actually minded the pain, you had established you were a pathetic, masochist when it came to her. And honestly? Her sheer, stubborn effort as she hollowed her cheeks, trying to force herself to sink down half of your length was truly commendable.

And if you were being entirely honest… You found her inexperience rather… Cute.

The way her nails grazed your skin as she pumped you at the base, her eyes teared, fluttering upward every time she pushed herself too deep. The obscene, bubbling mix of spit and pre-cum slipped out of her glossy, plush lips as she coughed and gagged around your length.

God her gagging is so lewd, you mused.

It was terribly, uniquely, endearingly her.

You had never been so painfully, euphorically happy in your entire life.

Her throat spasmed, and with a slippery sloppery schlorp, she pulled her mouth off of your cock to catch her breath.

Lumps of saliva dripped down from her lips to your tip, you could see the glistening string connected still to her lips. She coughed hard, her free hand wiping her mouth as the other remained its chokehold on your cock.

“Fuck… You’re too fucking huge!” she managed to gasp out as she glared up at you. Her bangs damp with sweat, stray hairs plastered, sticky all over her flushed forehead and temples. “God, I can barely swallow half of it without choking.”

She sighed as she finally took witness of your shiny cock coated in her spit. “This is so gross…”

“Heh, you do seem a tad bit too engrossed in it for a wuhluhwuh.” you grinned ever so smugly.

“… A what??” She blinked.

“En-gross-ed…? Get it? Because you said gross, but you seem to—”

“No, I fucking know English, dick head.”

You tensed up your cock, your head twitching in response “He begs to differ. You clearly don’t get the jo—”

“WUH-LUH-WUH!!!” she yelled exasperatedly. “Did you just try to pronounce W-L-W??”

“Yeah, isn’t that what you guys are? Lesbians?”

“YOU MEAN WOMEN LOVING WOME—”

“OOOHHH yeah, that’s what I meant.”

“I’m starting to regret doing this…” She cringed.

“NOOOO, you’re actually doing great, Sooyoung-ah hehehe~”

“Fuck, no! Don’t patronize me, I was terrible! You squirmed every time my teeth were on it, you were literally hissi—”

“What makes you think I don’t like it?”

“…” She blinked. “The fuck?” She recoiled, thoroughly confused.

“I find it particularly cute, actually,” you admitted nonchalantly, rendering her speechless.

She didn’t expect you to genuinely enjoy her terrible blowjob, even she knew she was absolute dogshit at it, yet she couldn’t help but feel lowkey flattered.

“You are so weird...” she rolled her eyes, though the corner of her lips smugly curled as she resumed her stroking. She milked the slick skin of your coated shaft, but as she did, her eyes drifted lower, completely hypnotized by the twin pendulums that were your balls, swaying beneath her hand.

She stared at them, her eyes flickering mischievously as she went down on you. You let out a muffled groan as she pressed her plush lips against them, tentatively kissing the sensitive skin of your sack.

“How much longer do I have to suck this thing before you pop?” she murmured, her tongue darted, down to scoop one of your balls into her mouth.

Your fingers instantly tangled into her bob, knuckles turning white. “Fuck… not long if you keep doing that…”

With her hand still working on your length in a steady rhythm, she finally sucked your balls. Her tongue swirled, fondling them lewdly with a filthy slurping, smacking, and popping of her lips. The wet tip of her tongue would occasionally glide dangerously low, tracing the stretched skin near your asshole, making you squirm helplessly on the mattress.

I am a wuhluhwuh, she muttered inside.

Women are soft, smell like vanilla, taste like honey. Yet there she was, eagerly slurping on a disgusting pair of sweaty, musky, dirty balls like they were Michelin fucking star. Her soaking core throbbed all over again as she tasted the degrading filth that felt like sin on her tongue.

“Fuck, Sooyoung-ah…” you breathed heavily, your hips twitching as her lips took your balls in and popped them out in tandem. “I’m so close… Like… Really fucking close.”

She pulled back with a smack, your balls glistened with her spit. “Well, you’re gonna have to help me then,” she said invitingly, her thumb deliberately smearing your pre-cum on your frenulum. “I can’t possibly do allat again by myself.”

She upped her tempo, letting out a stifled laugh. “I mean, I can’t exactly get the goat milk out all on my own.”

Your edging broin stalled for a moment. “… Goat milk?”

Her smirk quivered, her broin rotten to the core. “Yeah. If I milked you, I’d get goat milk…”

Despite her brutally quickening stroke, a snicker escaped her lips as she laughed at herself.

“’cuz you da #goat”

You snapped.

You didn’t even let her have a full-blown laugh as your hands flew to grab her head from both sides, violently tangling them into her roots. With a surge of brain-rotten adrenaline, you stood up from the mattress and forcefully impaled your throbbing cock straight into her open mouth, plunging down her throat.

Hmpphkk!

Hnghk

Gawk

Glorp (Bogos binted?)

Now that was the sound of heaven.

You pulled her head hard every time you pushed your goat in. Your pace was unforgiving and brutal. Her hands instinctively anchored to your thighs, nails digging as you mercilessly fucked the joke out of her.

But the devastating momentum of your thrusts was quickly becoming too much for the poor girl as your hips kept pushing and chasing her mouth, forcing her to tilt backward. Her hands shot back to prop herself from collapsing on her back. With her body arched, you took full advantage of it as your hand palmed the crown of her head while the other wrapped around her slender neck. Looming over her, you angled your hips and drove your heavy length downward with gravity.

Gag reflex be damned, you managed to bottom out nearly all of your length—you could literally feel your bulge plunging in and out of her neck.

Tears trailed from the corner of her eyes down to her flushed cheeks. But she didn’t even try to tap out. Her arms stood their ground, bracing hard as you fucked her throat into Oblivion so hard that it actually got remastered.

You nailed her mouth in a feral rhythm, balls slapping against her chin each time you tried to burrow even deeper into her incredibly tight throat. You could only think about how tight her ass would be if her throat was already this tight, but that was a story for another day. Perhaps. It was time to end this fuck-ass fic, the writer thought. So, eventually, you felt it coming.

“Fuck!” you roared, shudders running all over your body. “Take it all!”

You locked her in place, and with a one-hundred horse power thrust—maybe a hundred and twenty four—you bottomed out like a dragoon and blew your load.

Torrents of your release erupted straight down her esophagus. Suffocated by the sheer volume of your cum, you could feel the peristaltic spasms of her throat violently milking the goat. She tried to swallow it all, but you kept coming and coming she couldn’t keep up.

It was just too much. Her throat completely overflowed.

She coughed so violently it popped your cock out of her throat. Freed from the confines of her mouth, your cock sprayed the remaining ropes across her ruined face. Sticky mess splattered over her cheeks, nose, and damp fringes on her forehead as she collapsed back on her hands, coughing and gasping for air.

As the stream began to subside, you got back on her lips and milked the pulsing trickle down into her cum-filled mouth. You could only stare, mesmerized by the absolute filth that was Ha Sooyoung, face and mouth fully covered with your cum.

Her tongue darted out slowly, lecherously licking your slit off the final rope, then wiped the ropes around her lips as she finally downed your pooling cum in her mouth.

Gulp

Gulp

Gulp

It took her three fucking gulps to down all your hot cum into her tummy.

You stared down at her, chest heaving as you took in the absolute masterpiece of her face, beautifully dazed and glistening with your release. She had never looked better, and you had never felt better.

“I guess I really am the goat.”

You press your back against the double hinged doors, pushing through whilst carrying a heavy crate of beer. You grunt in effort as you lift the crate onto the counter, releasing a sigh of relief as you step back, elbows perchiing on the sink behind.

“Looks like it won’t be as busy today, sunbae.”

You turn your head, and watch as she saunters her way to the crate with an exaggerated sway in her hips. She crouches down in front of you, her shirt riding up and exposing the small of her back. Your eyes drop before you can stop them, admiring the dimple. You look back up only when her head turns to you.

“Pass me the beers.”

You push off the sink, and walk to the crate. You pull out one beer, and place it in her open hand. Again and again. The movement is almost mechanical. Your eyes stay trained on her—the soft curve of her chest from above, and her thighs, all tense from crouching. You breathe sharply through your nose, your grip on the neck of a beer bottle a bit too tight. You want to put your mouth there. Between her legs. You don’t even try to take it back.

After the last bottle, she rises to her feet so slow it’s almost performative. You know you’re staring, but you can’t wrench your eyes away. She stands up tall next to you, fluttering her eyelashes, a small smirk pulling at the corner of her mouth.

Anna Tanaka is a shameless flirt. Has been since she first stepped foot into this small, decrepit place your boss calls a bar. Throughout orientation, her eyes stayed on you. Only you. And she made no effort to hide it, either. She even personally asked for you to train her.

Not that you’d object. One look at her and you’d have said yes to anything.

Both of you stare out to the rest of the place, watching the few patrons already here. Jackasses in office suits, nursing a couple beers that will later evolve into buying tequila shots or whiskey bottles. A lone man at the other end of the bar. Looks like he’s been crying. Not your problem as long as he pays and doesn’t make a scene. There’s one person dancing to some shitty bar music you no longer care to remember the name of.

It’s a wonder you haven’t gone deaf yet with how terrible and loud it is.

“It’s rarely busy on a Wednesday night Tanaka. People who come into bars on a Wednesday are here for two reasons: one,” you lift your index finger. “They fucked up so bad at work, they have to drown their sorrows. And two,” you lift another finger. “Their home life is so shit, they’d rather be anywhere else.”

She looks over to you. “So what does that make us?”

You meet her eyes, holding her gaze far longer than necessary. “We’re the exception. We’re here to make money.” You flash her a toothy grin, one that she reciprocates.

You glance over her shoulder, and you see someone wave for service. You point with your eyes. She scoffs before making her way over, and you watch as she taps her fingers across the counter, the other hand coming up to her hair, shaking it loose.

You gulp unconsciously.

Her forearms press against the hard counter. She’s on her tiptoes, leaning closer to hear his order, and you can’t help yourself. Your eyes travel from her long, toned legs to her ass. Her skirt is so short that it rides up, revealing its curve and the panties underneath.

Black. Lacy.

You grip the counter harder than you intended, standing there for a second, jaw tight, cock already half-hard, reminding yourself that you’re here to work.

Once your breathing is under control, your eyes travel up and meet hers.

She’s smiling that sultry smile that tells you this was all on purpose. Her eyes travel lower to your tight jeans, biting her lower lip before turning her attention back to the customer.

It started with mindless flirting. She’d tell you that you look good, and you’d say that pigtails suit her, like you haven’t been thinking about them all shift or imagining wrapping them around your hands. And it evolved from there. Your hand lightly grazing against her lower back, her pressing up against you to light slaps on her ass and not so light gropes on your balls. You never complained.

A new customer pulls your attention to the edge of the bar.

“Behind.”

You try and squeeze past her except she arches her back and presses her ass against you and the sound that leaves you isn’t professional or controlled or anything close. You feel yourself strain against your jeans.

She doesn’t look back, but you see the way her thighs press together and you know she’s just as affected.

She later joins you in making a drink and she has the audacity to press up against you. Her chest presses against your arm as she reaches for a whiskey glass. You feel the stares from behind, the daggers thrown at you by men who thought they had a chance with her.

You breathe out slowly, head tipping back.

“You’re playing a dangerous game, Tanaka—”

“And you’re a willing participant sunbae.” She’s right, but you’re not going to answer her. “Pass me the bottle.”

You grab it without looking, handing it over and ignoring the way her fingers linger on yours for a few seconds. You watch as she pours the content into a shaker, watch as her wrists snap back and forth, and you can’t help but imagine it’s your cock in her hands. And that thought has your pulse thrumming in your ears, and your throat dry.

She leaves your side, moving to serve the customer, and already you miss her scent.

The alarm on your phone rings out. 6PM. You finish serving your customer before you walk behind her, one hand on her waist, mouth grazing against her ear, your breath washing over her. If the customer she just served had anything to say, he didn’t, not when it’s clear she’s enjoying you behind her, her eyes slightly rolling back, a shaky breath escaping.

“6PM. Evening rush.” You gently blow against her ear, your hand tightening on her waist. “Want a shot?”

She turns her head slightly to look at you, eyes travelling down to your lips. For a moment, you see it, the composure slipping. Her tongue darts out, wetting her lips, her cheeks flushing. Her breath is warm against your mouth, and you push yourself further into her.

“Y—yeah.”

Your free hand reaches down, grabs two shot glasses and a bottle of tequila from under the counter. Your eyes stay on her as she turns her head, watching you pour two shots and making a mess of the counter. The hand on her waist travels up, slowly. Fingertips grazing her exposed midriff, between the valley of her breasts before planting themselves at the base her throat. She swallows hard, and you can’t help the smile on your face. You put the bottle down, take a shot glass, and hold it to her mouth.

“Open up.”

Her head tilts back, resting against your shoulder and you’re hit with her scent, surrounding you. Vanilla and sweat mixing together. Intoxicating and arousing. You harden at her feel and smell, your cock pressing firmly against her ass.

She can’t help the moan escaping her, quiet like a whisper. Only you and the person she just served could hear her.

You tip the shot into her mouth. Watch as her face grimaces at the taste and burn, her throat working it down to her stomach.

“Good girl.”

A drop of tequila lingers on her bottom lip, threatening to make its way down her chin. You place the shot glass down on the counter hard, moving your thumb to swipe at the offending drop.

She watches, eyes half-lidded, as you press your thumb against her lips. They open without resistance, sucking with fervour.

You groan in her ear, loud and obnoxious. If she sucks your thumb like this, you can’t imagine what she’d do with your cock.

A squeaking barstool interrupts your little performance. The customer adjusts himself, the drink already gone.

“Take this,” you push your shot glass of tequila towards him. “On the house.”

You turn to face her again, your lips coming down and pressing on her temple. Your voice is soft yet rough, your arousal seeping through despite your best efforts to cover it. “Let’s finish our shift early.”

She nods enthusiastically. Whines when you step away just as more customers enter the bar.

The next couple hours were hectic.

You go through through the motions. Taking orders, mixing drinks, and the occasional wave to the security guard to kick someone out. There are too many bodies. The room smells like sweat and a concoction of perfume that don’t mix well. You watch people move to the dance floor, grinding all over each other as if they won’t have regrets come tomorrow morning.

The bass from the speakers vibrate throughout the bar, the music muffling the orders from the patrons. The floor and counter is sticky from spilled drinks, and other liquids you don’t want to know about.

And through it all, Anna is the only one that makes working these shifts all worth it.

The two of you work in sync, moving around each other like it’s a practiced dance. Neither of you speak, already knowing what the other needs. Whenever you go high to reach something, she’d go below you, occasionally brushing your cock with her arm. She doesn’t look back at you as you shoot a glare in faux annoyance, stuck standing in that awkward position until you’ve calmed yourself down. 6 months of training, of teasing and being teased—it adds up.

A patron flags you down. “I don’t want you. I want her!”

Your expression turns cold. “I’m sorry sir, she’s busy with a customer right now. You can wait but it could take a while.” You turn to her, watching as she makes eyes to some nervous university student, chin propped up in one hand, the other placing featherlight touches against the back of his hand. You smirk despite yourself, watch as he goes red in the face, stuttering incoherently. She smiles, eyes turning into crescents as if she was genuinely interested. He pulls out his wallet, slaps more bills down onto the counter as a tip.

You chuckle, turning back to the man. “Or you could get a drink now and enjoy the rest of your night.”

He grumbles his order, turning around to look for someone more willing as you move off to make his drink.

It’s simple really. You deal with the sleazy, old men that come to leer at her, some of them don’t even bother removing their wedding rings. And she takes care of the young, and shy interns or students who don’t know what to say to someone as hot as her. You protect her from unwanted advances and she rakes in huge tips.

Simple. Effective.

Eventually, activity at the bar slows down. Besides the men eyeing her up, no one has come up for drinks in the last five minutes.

You lean against the wall, eyes darting from a group of girls making a nuisance of themselves on one of the tables to a man being overly aggressive with the DJ. The place is getting warmer, unbelievably so. Everything feels damp, your hands are clammy from doing nothing, and it feels like you’re breathing in sweat more than anything else.

“Sunbae…” You turn to Anna, pushing through the doors, walking up and joining you against the wall. “You were right. AC is down."

You suck air through your teeth. “Of course it is. What did the boss say?”

She leans against you, head resting on your shoulder. She takes one of your hands, intertwines her fingers through yours.

“Nothing much. Can’t do much about it now he said. Technician’s coming in tomorrow.”

She keeps talking. You don’t hear any of it though, eyes trained on the way her hand melds perfectly with yours, how your thumb instinctively rubs the back of her hand as if you’ve been in a long term relationship.

Your eyes travel up her arms, glistening with sweat, rivulets finding their way down before falling on to the floor. Her crop top sticks to her like a second skin, the top of her breasts shining against the strobe lights. You watch her face, and how matted her hair is, sticking to her forehead, and you think you want to see her like this again. But in bed.

“Seriously?”

You swallow thickly. “W—what?”

She turns, properly facing you now. “Tell me.” One leg moves between yours, a constant, pleasurable pressure on your cock that you can’t help but release a rough moan. “Tell me what you’re thinking about. It must be good if it has you like… this.”

You smirk devilishly. “Are you sure you can handle my fantasies?”

Your hand moves from your side, presses against her navel. Your thumb swipes against the smooth plane before you bring it to your mouth, tasting her.

It’s tart. And addictive all at the same time.

Anna’s eyes grow wide, pupils swallowing the colour of her eyes. Her breathing becomes shallow and the flush on her cheeks from the heat in the air, darkens further in lust.

You lean down until your mouth brushes against her ear. You start whispering just as your hand on her stomach inches its way down.

“I want you so bad. Ever since you first joined. Your constant teasing…” your hand dips underneath the hem of her skirt, “… made it so hard for me. How are you going to repay me?”

“I—I—” She doesn’t finish.

You press down against her pubic bone, and the sound that escapes her is a revelation. Far better than whatever sound your mind concocted. Her eyelids become heavy and her breathing erratic against your face. Her lips are parted, and you stare at them for the longest time, trying your best not to kiss her right there.

Your hand travels lower against her panties. Soaked through. You leave your hand there, rhythmically tapping against her core in time with the beat of the music, and you watch as her composure slowly falls away.

She’s pushing herself onto your hand, grinding against you in such a way that it’s not obvious to those on the other side of the bar. The movement is light and miniscule, bouncing on her tiptoes for more friction.

You laugh in her ear, mocking. “Is that enough?”

Her eyes flutter shut, head falling and resting on your shoulder. Both her hands have a hold on your arm, keeping your hand right where it is.

You’d be lying if you said you weren’t affected by all this. The top of her hair right under your nose, the smell of her shampoo filling your lungs. Her chest touches yours, her erratic breathing pushing her tits into you. The soft mounds a sharp contrast to the stiff peaks of her nipples poking you. What’s affecting you the most though is the wetness coating your hand. It’s soaking through the lace and it’s sticky and the fact you’re the root cause feeds your ego.

“Hey, you two.” Her eyes snap open, body frozen against yours. You both turn towards the voice. Your co-workers come through the door, one on their phone, the other struggling to carry a new crate of beer. “You’re on break. Take—”

You don’t hear the rest.

Anna forcefully pulls your hand out of her skirt, her grip tightening on your wrist so that it’s almost painful. She drags you through the doors, ignoring the puzzled look from the others. She doesn’t stop, not until you’re in the storage closet, shutting and locking the door behind you.

You’re already on your knees as she turns around. Your hands finding her waist, pushing her flat against the door.

You hear the sharp intake of breath, feel her thighs quiver as your breath washes over them. She looks down at you, her eyes screaming, begging you to follow through. You press a kiss on the inside of her thigh, and she’s snapped, her head hitting the door with a heavy thud.

You take things slow. A soft kiss against her knee, a lick up her thigh followed by quiet suction, and eventually, your teeth grazing against her core. You repeat this on both legs. 10. 20 times. You don’t know. But the painful strain in your pants and the way her fingers thread through your hair means she’s done waiting.

“Pl—please sunbae… please…”

Her sentences are incoherent, too lost in the feel of you to properly say what she wants. But you know. And you’re excited to give it to her.

Your hands travel down from her waist, and climbs up underneath her skirt. Her skin feels hot against yours, and you suddenly remember all the times you’ve touched her prior to this moment. Like when she used the shaker for the first time, her small hands encompassed by yours as you taught her your technique. Or when she brushed hair out of your eyes during that one shift, her fingers lingering against your temple longer than necessary.

You’re not stupid. Her signals were obvious. And so were yours. Both of you were bound to fall off the edge at some point.

Your only regret is that you’re going to fuck her in the dirty storage closet of your workplace.

Your hands find what they’re looking for. Her panties. You pull them off slowly, watching as it clings onto her lips before peeling off. You inhale her scent, breathing in deeply. It’s intoxicating and it makes your head dizzy. Your tongue darts out your mouth, one long lick and you can’t wait to taste more.

“Oh… fuck…”

You stay down, tasting every inch of her, focusing especially on her clit, sucking and flicking it with your tongue. Her arousal starts coating your mouth as you keep going despite the ache in your jaw and the lack of oxygen as she clenches her thighs around you.

Soon enough, her legs start to give out, back sliding down the door. Your hands quickly move, throwing one leg over your shoulder before making their way to her ass, holding her up as you continue eating her out.

Her moans are loud, unrestrained. She’s repeating the same word like a chant, slowly devolving into broken noise. They used to be measured, coming out every few seconds or so. Now it’s an endless stream of curses and your name spilling out of her mouth. If it weren’t for the loud music at the bar, you’d surely be caught by now.

You can’t see her, face covered by her skirt but all the signs are there. The way her walls flutter around your tongue as you push in. Her thighs shaking incessantly around your ears, and how her grinding has become more forceful. She’s lost all semblance of control, the dull ache from her grip in your hair turns into searing pain. It’s like she’s forgotten you’re a person; you’re a toy, your sole purpose being to help her reach her high.

“Fuck… fuck…”

You’ll gladly be a toy if it meant seeing her like this again.

You lap at her folds, tasting every inch of her like she’s some delicacy no one’s heard of. The pressure of your tongue is consistent, driving her crazy. It’s enough to keep her on edge, just not enough to push her over it. The hand in her mouth leaves, and the music from the bar is replaced by her.

You move up, tongue darting over her clit with precision, circling it with the tip. Or you press it flat, feel her shake at the constant stimulation. You replace your tongue with your mouth, sucking on her clit gently. Her whimpers grow louder, pitched higher, and she’s arching her back, pressing herself firmly into your mouth.

She goes quiet first, her body frozen. And then she breaks. Her whole body convulsing, thrashing hard enough that you’re losing your grip. Her mouth is open in a scream, and you feel her arousal coat your chin and stain your shirt.

Your mouth returns to her folds, lapping as much as you can while she whimpers, oversensitive. Her grip on your hair loosens, her arms like jelly as she tries to push you away.

You eventually relent, lowering her down to the floor, her leg falling limply from your shoulder. You remove yourself from under her skirt, and already you miss her smell and taste.

It’s the first time you’re actually seeing what you’ve done. She’s folded against the door, her exposed stomach glistening from exertion, chest heaving, an attempt to get as much oxygen into her lungs. Your eyes move to her mouth, lips parted, tongue partially out as she looks at you with glassy eyes. Her hair is matted against her forehead and her cheeks are flushed a deep crimson.

You crawl over her, hand moving behind her neck before you kiss her. It’s messy and languid, her tongue gently caressing yours. She moans against your mouth, tasting herself on you—sweet yet tangy—and she wants more, kissing you with so much fervour, it catches you off guard.

“I—I taste so good…”

Only now you realise this is your first kiss with her. And it’s in the back of the bar, with her cum all over your mouth. You don’t know what you expected your first kiss with her to be like but it certainly wasn’t this.

You move your lips down as she tilts her head up, sucking hard against her skin. She moans, hand coming up and cradling your head against her as you leave a bruise. You swipe your tongue along the column of her throat, all the way up to the shell of her ear as you use your free hand to free yourself from your jeans.

You’re harder than you’ve ever been before, the head is swollen, red, and dripping precum in the small space between you.

You slowly get to your feet, one hand on your cock as you shuffle closer, the jeans around your ankles making it awkward and annoying. And Anna’s staring at it the whole time, her glazed eyes focusing, tongue wetting her lips as she swallows thickly.

Her head is still pressed against the door as you press the head of your cock against her lips, coating them with your precum. She opens without resistance, letting you push all the way until you’re at the back of her throat. She gags around your length before closing her lips around it, tongue flicking underneath the head. You rest a hand against the door, the other pulling her hair into a ponytail as you start slowly thrusting into her mouth.

The haze of her orgasm has made her pliant, more willing to your advances. If it were anyone else, you wouldn’t consider fucking their face like you are with her. She just brings that side of you out.

“Fuck… your mouth feels so good.”

You hear a muffled mewl at your praise, and she starts working harder, timing her head bob with your thrusts. She pays extra attention to your tip, circling her tongue around it and flicking at the slit. You watch the way her lips cling to your cock as you pull out, at the spit escaping from the corners of mouth, dripping slowly down her chin.

Her arms that were limp at her side, suddenly gain strength, and slowly makes their way from her toned, sweaty midriff to her crop top. She pulls on the neckline, releasing her breasts from their confines just as the spit falls, landing in the valley between. She pushes her tits together, coating them in spit, twisting and pulling at her nipples. She moans, and the vibrations along your length almost sent you over the edge.

You grab her head with both hands, forcing yourself further down her throat. She’s gagging at the intrusion, cloudy eyes that were staring up at you now squeezed shut with tears threatening to fall. Your pace turns brutal, the slap of your balls against her chin drowns her gagging and the patrons outside. Occasionally, her head bangs against the door. She doesn’t complain though, hands moving to your ass, pushing you further in until her face is flush against your stomach. You keep her there, amazed at how well she’s doing. How she swallows around you, massaging you, and how, despite your attempts to pull away, she traps you there, refusing to let you leave despite her tears mixing with her mascara down her cheeks.

You breathe heavily through your nose, the grip on her head loosening, replaced by gentle pats on her head. “Good girl.”

She swallows around you, tries to push you in deeper. As if your praise was the encouragement she needed to deepthroat you further. But eventually, she had to let you leave.

Your cock is slick with a mixture of her saliva and your precum. You look over at her, chest heaving, coughing every few seconds. You don’t give her much rest though, already pushing back in, slower, gentler. You’re not chasing the high, only the feel of her wet mouth around you.

The suction, the vibration of her moans all becomes too much. Your hips stutter, the rhythm of your thrusts breaking.

You pull out immediately, catching your breath, your hand resting on the door, keeping you up.

“W—why did you stop?” She looks up at you with wide eyes, the flush on her cheeks spreading down her neck to the top of her breasts. She tries reaching for your cock again, mouth almost over it before you press two fingers against her forehead, stopping her in her tracks.

You don’t say anything. Instead, you reach your hand out to her, and you see how quick the decision was made in her eyes. She takes it without hesitation, allowing herself to be pulled up by you. Her hand is small in yours, dainty too. Like she doesn’t belong in a place like this, making drinks and relying on tips to get through the months.

Her feet are still unsteady as she stands, her hand reaching out and landing on your chest as she steadies herself. Your free hand instinctively wraps around her waist, pulling her flush to you.

You stare at her for the longest time, memorising her features. The tiny freckles along her nose, her deep, dark eyes that you could get lost in if you let yourself. She’s staring at you like she belongs to you, waiting for you to do something, and it tightens something in your chest. Your eyes start mapping her face and you see what you’ve done to her. The mascara streaks down her cheeks, the smudged lipstick across her parted lips. She’s still panting, her breath washing over you.

You let go of her hand, placing it where your heart is. You caress her cheeks, wiping at the mascara before doing the same at her lips. You watch in silent surprise at the way her mouth automatically opens wider as your thumb brushes against it before entering. Her lips, red and swollen, wraps around it, sucking on it gently. Her cheeks hollow as she stares into your eyes with a sultry look.

You’re breathless, eyes dilating at the scene, your cock hardening too, especially when her free hand reaches down, stroking you against her stomach, twisting at the head.

You close your eyes, your forehead finding hers as you let her continue sucking your thumb and stroking your cock. The sensation is wonderful. Her soft, lithe hand feels exquisite on you, the way she squeezes at the head or rapidly jerks you off at the base and it reminds you of when she uses the shaker.

“Anna…”

You slowly open your eyes, removing your thumb from her mouth. You place both your hands on her cheeks before closing the distance.

The kiss is different. It’s not an act of passion or an in the moment kiss. It’s one that highlights how much she’s liked you in the time you’ve known each other. All the emotions poured into it as if words aren’t enough to tell you everything.

You just hope you were able to show how much you care for her through yours.

You begin to move, stepping out of your jeans, hands still on her face, and your lips still attached as you drag her further into the closet until her back is pressed against the shelves. A groan escapes her as her back softly slams against it before she finds your mouth again. The spare pint glasses on the shelves start shaking as you push her further into it.

You both separate, foreheads touching as you both breath heavily in the space between. Both your eyes fall to your cock, twitching against her folds, leaking precum, and the pair of you moan at the sight. You hold it by the base, sliding it along her folds, and she pants against you, her head falling onto your shoulder, biting you gently to muffle the sounds spilling from her mouth.

“S—sunbae…”

You don’t wait any longer. You continue rubbing yourself on her as your other hand finds the back of one of her thighs. You lift it high. Until her foot is beside your head, and her leg is sandwiched between your bodies.

“F—fuck…”

You push inside, groaning at the overwhelming heat and tightness. Her orgasm has left her wet and dripping, making it easier to slide in further. Anna exhales shakily against your mouth, her breathing uneven. Her hands find your shoulders, nails digging deeper the further in you go. When you finally bottom out, your pelvis pressed flush against hers, do you release a breath you didn’t know you were holding, and you watch as her eyes flutter close, head falling backwards, knocking a few tumblers down.

You stay like this, enjoying the feel around you, the way her walls flutter along your length. You look down at where you join, and her name comes out your mouth subconsciously.

“Anna… look.”

And she does. Watches as you start grinding. She’s moaning softly, and her eyes start dilating. The hands on your shoulders move down to your chest, weakly pushing at you. “Move.”

You start slowly, pulling all the way until your tip before slamming all the way in. Your thrusts are heavy and hard. She takes your whole length with every stroke, and every time you bottom out, a whimper spills from her mouth, broken and desperate. Her back arches against the shelves, and the way she clenches around you as you pull out—like she’s trying to stop you from leaving—is overwhelming.

“Y—you’re so deep…”

Her eyes roll back at a particular hard thrust, jostling her against the shelves. More glasses tip over but you don’t care anymore. Your entire focus is on her.

You fuck her faster, harder. Her walls start fluttering around you with no rhythm, trying to milk you. She breathlessly repeats your name, eyes closing in pleasure, hands grabbing the uprights. The slap of skin on skin, and your panting, drowns everything out, even your ringing phone.

You see everything. The way she bites her lip in a futile attempt to stay quiet, her tits bouncing with every hard thrust. You look down, and you can see where you connect, how she has a tight grip on you, how she stretches around your girth. Every time you pull back, more of her arousal escapes, running down the one leg she’s standing on.

“Shit… don’t stop—please…”

The leg on your shoulder starts shaking violently. Your hand moves, gently grabbing the ankle, thumb soothingly caressing it while you plant soft kisses against her calf. The smooth skin feels wonderful against your lips, and you imagine how great it would be to have them tangled with yours in bed.

“M—more…”

Your other hand grabs her breast, kneading the flesh, her nipple poking through your fingers. You hold on as your pace increases, your hips snapping against hers. You’re breathing heavily, eyes travelling to her face where her eyes are closed, tears spilling.

Her walls clench around you erratically, her moans growing louder, becoming more high pitched, more desperate. “I—I’m gonna c—cum…” Your thumb and index fingers find her nipple. You pinch and pull and that’s all it takes.

Her orgasm hits her hard, back arching high, a scream tearing from her throat. It’s so loud, you had to cover her mouth. Her pussy strangles your cock, gushing around you, and you feel wetness on your thighs.

You keep your pace steady, ignoring her oversensitive gasps. Her hand claw at your shoulder, and she tries to remove her leg. You hug her leg, keeping it on your shoulder as you continue to fuck her through her orgasm, her tears flowing freely now.

Her flushed cheeks, parted mouth, and her glazed over eyes. She’s so distractingly beautiful like this that you temporarily lose your rhythm.

You feel your balls tighten, pleasure coiling at your spine, and the fact that she whispers your name—all broken, desperate, and rough—sends you over the edge.

You slam into her one final time, burying yourself deep. And you cum. The orgasm is blinding, your vision blurring as the pleasure rips through you and you empty yourself inside her, filling her with rope after rope of cum. She moans brokenly as she milks you for everything you have and more.

For a few seconds, nothing exists except the two of you. Your heavy breathing mingles in the space between you. Her slick skin presses against you, and you wish you could stay like this forever. But reality comes back—Anna’s chest moving up and down quickly, the mess between her legs, and your legs start shaking too.

You pull out slowly, and she whimpers at your loss. You slowly lower her leg onto the floor, catching her as she falls forward. You gently bring her down to a sitting position, back against the shelves as you take a seat opposite. Your cum starts leaking out of her, mixing with her arousal, staining the floor underneath.

She starts laughing breathlessly, her foot tapping against your thigh as she looks at you with what can only be described as adoration in her eyes. “My legs are numb.”

You chuckle under your breath. “Sorry. Guess I got a bit carried away.”

Her hand moves to her hair, ruffling it slightly before it makes its way between her legs, scooping up your cum with two fingers. You watch as she plays with it. “Don’t be. That was the best sex I’ve ever had.” She puts her fingers in her mouth, cleaning them before pulling it out with a loud pop, showing you the evidence.

“You’re going to be the death of me Tanaka.”

She moves, crawling towards you with an exaggerated sway of her hips and a predatory grin on her lips. She settles on your lap, fingers gently grazing your cock back to full mast. She leans toward you, until her lips are inches from yours.

Outside the open doors, the training ground rings with disciplining shouts. Your Green Standard troops drill in neat squares, spears thrusting in unison, bows drawn and released with sharp twangs, officers barking corrections. The red-and-gold banner with your coiled dragon, wave, and crossed sword-anchor symbol snaps overhead in the sea breeze. You glance up now and then to watch the formations shift, satisfied with the crispness after months of Penghu blood and sweat.

A young servant boy - barely sixteen, one of the new household additions - bursts through the side door, sandals slapping against stone. He drops to his knees so quickly his forehead nearly kisses the floor.

“General!”

His voice cracks with haste.

“Lady Xinyu bids you come at once to her chambers. She says the matter is urgent and cannot wait.”

You set the brush down. The ink bead trembles on the tip, then falls. Urgent from Xinyu is never trivial. You rise, robe whispering against the mat.

The boy scrambles ahead. You stride through the middle courtyards, past lotus ponds where carp glide beneath lily pads, past the private theater where musicians sometimes play at dusk, then through the moon gate into the women’s quarters. The garden here is quieter, jasmine heavy in the air, silk lanterns swaying gently even though it is still daylight.

Xinyu’s pavilion stands at the center. It’s the largest and most ornate. Red-lacquered pillars, silk curtains the color of ripe persimmons, carved peonies climbing the screens. Already a small crowd has gathered on the stone path outside. Maids in plain blue ao stand with lowered eyes. Your chief steward hovers nearby, hands clasped behind his back. And then there are the three of them.

Tzuyu waits closest to the door. Her posture is perfect, hands folded inside wide pale blue sleeves. Her long hair is pinned with a single jade hairpin shaped like an orchid. The silk of her robe catches the light so it shimmers like water. She meets your gaze for only a heartbeat before looking down again. She looks elegant, composed, yet you know the quick pulse at her throat betrays her.

Shuhua stands a step behind, arms crossed loosely under her chest so the vibrant green silk pulls taut across her figure. A small smirk plays at the corner of her mouth, but her eyes are sharp and watchful. She has added a thin silver chain with a tiny shell pendant around her neck. Something she brought from the island.

Nien casually leans against a pillar, in soft peach silk, sleeves rolled to her elbows as though she was in the middle of some light chore when the summons came. She twirls a jasmine blossom between her fingers, but the playful tilt of her head does not hide the way her gaze flicks between you and the closed doors of Xinyu’s chamber.

The steward bows low as you approach.

“General.”

You nod once. The crowd parts. You push the curtain aside and step into Xinyu’s receiving room.

The space is warm, perfumed with aloeswood and a faint trace of medicinal herbs. Xinyu sits on the low platform bed, back straight despite the slight curve already visible beneath her loose rose-pink robe. Her hands rest in her lap with her fingers laced. She looks up at you and, for the first time in weeks, there is no carefully schooled calm on her face. Only quiet, radiant certainty. Behind you the three concubines enter in single file, silent, each taking a place along the wall. Tzuyu to your left, Shuhua to your right, Nien nearer the door. The maids withdraw, letting the heavy curtain fall.

Xinyu draws a slow breath.

“My lord, this morning the physician confirmed it. I carry your child.”

The words drop into the room like a stone into still water. You feel the shift in the air at once. The way Tzuyu’s breath catches, the way Shuhua’s smirk vanishes, the way Nien’s fingers still on the jasmine blossom until the petals bruise. Xinyu’s gaze moves past you to the three younger women. Her expression is gentle, almost kind, but there is steel beneath it.

“The household will rejoice.”

She continues softly.

“But the child will need brothers and sisters to strengthen our line. I trust my lord will see to that duty… in due time.”

She looks back at you, eyes shining.

The evening arrives with the slow fade of sunset over the harbor, turning the sea into molten gold. Lanterns are lit along every path and pavilion, their warm glow pushing back the creeping darkness. In the grand banquet hall, long tables are set with lacquered trays. Steamed abalone glistening in ginger soy, crisp-skinned duck glazed with honey, platters of fresh crab from the morning boats, bowls of fragrant rice studded with lotus seeds, and delicate sweets shaped like peaches, symbols of longevity and fertility.

You sit at the head of the main table, Xinyu to your immediate left. Her rose-pink robe has been changed for one of deeper crimson silk. The wide sleeves are embroidered with subtle phoenixes that rise as she gestures. She looks radiant, the faint curve of her belly hidden but somehow announced by the way she carries herself. To your right sit the three concubines in careful order: Tzuyu closest, then Shuhua, then Nien. Tzuyu’s pale blue silk falls in perfect folds, her movements careful. Shuhua’s vibrant green catches the lantern light every time she leans forward. Nien’s soft peach seems almost to glow against her skin. They sit with the practiced grace of women who know they are watched.

A handful of guests fill the other seats. Two wealthy Fujianese merchants who supply your ships, a minor magistrate from the nearby prefecture, and Lady Wei, the wife of a coastal garrison commander. She’s sharp eyed, silver haired, and already deep in conversation with Xinyu about midwives and auspicious birth dates.

The congratulations begin almost immediately. Cups are raised again and again.

“To the General and Lady Xinyu. May the child be strong, wise, and bring endless prosperity!”

Xinyu inclines her head with perfect modesty, accepting each toast with a small smile. The women cluster around her, asking about cravings (none yet, but she jokes about sudden desires for Taiwanese mangoes), sharing remedies, laughing softly over old birthing tales. For this evening, at least, the household orbits her.

Your own conversations pull in a different direction. The merchant across from you leans in, voice low beneath the music of the pipa and erhu players in the corner.

“General, the new trade route from Tainan is open, but the pirate remnants still lurk near Penghu. If we could station another squadron-”

You nod, swirling wine in your cup.

“I’ve already drafted the request to Admiral Shi Lang. Two more junks with swivel guns should suffice. The Emperor wants steady rice flowing north before winter.”

The magistrate chimes in about tax exemptions for settlers willing to farm the interior. You listen, respond, commit details to memory. Politics and business weave through every sip and every bite.

Then the musicians shift tempo. A livelier melody rises. Strings get plucked in quick, playful runs. Nien sets her chopsticks down. Without a word she stands, smooth as water, and steps into the open space between tables. No one seems surprised. In households like yours, especially after a victory feast or good news, a concubine dancing is not unusual. It is entertainment, a display of grace, a way to honor the host. Nien moves as though the music has simply pulled her in.

Her peach silk flutters as she turns, arms lifting in slow arcs, wrists flicking like willow branches in wind. She spins once, twice. The hem rises just enough to show the delicate curve of her calves, then sinks low, one knee bending, head tilting back so her dark hair spills like ink. The lanterns catch every motion, turning her into flickering light and shadow.

You glance at her again and again. Her form is elegant and fluid, unmistakably inviting. The way her hips sway, the intended pause when she extends a hand toward the musicians as if offering herself to the melody…it is artful and practiced, but tonight it feels personal. Her eyes find yours once, twice, three times. Each meeting lasts only a heartbeat, yet in that look there is no coyness. It is direct. Hungry. A silent question.

You look away, toward Xinyu. She watches Nien with calm amusement, one hand resting lightly on her belly. Lady Wei says something. Xinyu laughs softly, then replies. There is no tightness in her shoulders, no flicker of irritation. The pregnancy has shifted something fundamental. Xinyu is no longer merely first among equals. She is the mother of the heir, the uncontested center. The three foreign concubines, beautiful as they are, suddenly seem less threatening. Almost decorative. The dance ends to polite applause. Nien returns to her seat, cheeks faintly flushed, breathing a little quicker. She does not look at you again, but you feel the weight of her earlier gaze lingering.

The evening stretches. More dishes arrive. lotus root stir-fried with pork, clear broth with fish maw, and more wine is poured. Guests begin to excuse themselves one by one. Lady Wei departs with effusive promises to send her best midwife. The merchants bow and leave with assurances of loyalty. The magistrate lingers longest, finishing a quiet discussion about harbor patrols.

Xinyu rises at last, graceful despite the hour.

“My lord, I will retire. The child demands rest.”

You stand and offer your arm. She takes it briefly, presses your hand once, then slips away toward her pavilion, maids trailing like shadows.

The hall empties slowly. Servants clear trays. Musicians pack their instruments. Only the last merchant remains, the one who spoke of pirates earlier. You walk him to the outer doors, sealing the final details of tomorrow’s orders. He bows deeply and then vanishes into the night.

Silence falls over your estate. You turn left toward the moon gate that leads to the inner garden. Halfway down the shadowed corridor, you round the corner.

Shuhua stands there. She leans against a red-lacquered pillar, arms folded loosely under her chest, the green silk of her robe catching the faint lantern light from the garden beyond. Her chin lifts when she sees you. She doesn’t say anything at first, but her face is in conflict with herself. A mischievous smile tugs at the corner of her lips, but her eyes are full of determination.

Shuhua straightens from the pillar as you approach, her arms unfolding slowly. The moon light catches the silver shell pendant at her throat, making it twinkle a little.

“My lord, I dislike seeing you walk these corridors alone at night. Must be tiring, carrying the weight of the household on your shoulders.”

You stop a few paces away.

“It’s a familiar burden.”

She tilts her head, studying you.

“The banquet was long. Everyone fawning over Lady Xinyu and her precious news. You barely touched your wine.”

“I had business to attend.”

A small laugh escapes her.

“Always business.”

She pushes off the pillar and takes one step closer.

“Did you like Nien’s dance at least? She moves like she’s trying to remind everyone she exists.”

You don’t answer immediately. Shuhua’s eyes narrow, pleased by your silence.

“She’s sweet.”

You say at last.

“Sweet.”

Shuhua echoes, rolling the word like it tastes sour.

“How boring. You must be starving for something with bite.”

The air between you thickens. She closes the last distance, stopping so close you can smell the faint jasmine oil she favors. Something she brought from the island, stubborn and defiant against the mainland scents of the estate.

“Walk with me.”

Not a question.

She turns without waiting, green silk whispering as she moves down the moonlit path toward her pavilion. You follow. The garden is quiet. Only the distant lap of waves against the harbor and the occasional rustle of leaves break the silence. At her door she pauses, glancing back over her shoulder.

“You’re still here. Good boy.”

You raise an eyebrow at her attitude, but it’s not unfamiliar anymore.

Inside, the room is smaller than Xinyu’s but brighter. The lanterns hang low, casting warm pools of light across silk screens painted with crashing waves and distant islands. A low bed dominates the center, piled with embroidered cushions and a thin quilt the color of young bamboo.

Shuhua doesn’t hesitate. She turns, places both hands flat on your chest, and shoves. You fall back onto the bed, the mattress yielding under your weight. Before you can sit up she’s on you, straddling your hips, knees bracketing your thighs. Her robe parts at the front just enough to show the smooth line of her collarbone and the dip of her breasts beneath thin silk.

“You didn’t look at me all evening. Every time Nien spun, your eyes were on her. But you’re mine now.”

Her breath is warm against your skin. You slide your hands up her thighs, feeling the heat of her through the fabric. She shivers once, then presses harder into your lap.

“Not slow tonight. Never slow with me. You know that.”

She starts with kisses. Quick, hungry ones across your cheek, your jaw, the corner of your mouth. Then she finds your neck. Her teeth graze just enough to sting before she sucks a mark there. Her hips roll in a slow, heavy grind, pressing her heat against the growing hardness beneath your robes. Your hands move higher, cupping the firm curve of her ass through the thin silk. The fabric is slippery, barely a barrier. You squeeze. She gasps softly against your throat, then bites down again, sharper this time.

“Good. Touch me like you mean it.”

One hand leaves your neck. She reaches between your bodies, deft fingers working the ties of your trousers open. Cool air hits your skin for only a second before her palm wraps around your cock.

“Look at you.”

She whispers, lips still at your ear, voice dropping lower.

“Already so hard for your bratty little island princess. You pretend to be so composed in that hall, but here? Here you’re just a man who wants to fuck me raw.”

She continues to stroke your cock with slow, teasing up-and-downs, then squeezes at the base.

“Say it.”

Her demand is soft, almost sweet.

“Tell me you want this. Tell me you’re going to ruin me tonight while your perfect wife sleeps with your heir safe inside her.”

Her hips rock forward again, grinding her clothed heat along your length. The friction is maddening. You grip her ass harder, pulling her down so she feels every inch of your dick pressing up against her. Shuhua laughs and leans in to kiss you properly this time, all teeth and hunger, no gentleness at all.

You flip her, rolling so Shuhua is suddenly beneath you. Her back hits the quilt with a soft thud. Her green silk robe fans out around her like a bed of grass, dark hair spilling across the embroidered cushions. She gasps once, surprised by your switch, then immediately tries to mask it with that familiar smirk. You brace yourself on one forearm beside her head, caging her in. Your free hand pins her wrists above her head.

“You’re being unusually annoying tonight.”

Shuhua blinks up at you, eyes wide and innocent for half a heartbeat before the mask cracks. She flutters her lashes.

“Me? Annyoing? I don’t know what you mean, my lord. I’m just… keeping you company after such a long day.”

You don’t smile. You don’t need to. You can see the calculation behind her wide-eyed act, the way her thighs shift restlessly beneath you. You don’t particularly care about the quiet tension that simmers between her and Xinyu. Petty jealousies, veiled barbs in the garden, the way the three concubines sometimes glance at your wife like she’s stolen something they never quite had. As long as they keep it away from you, let them claw at each other all they want. But tonight? Tonight she didn’t even give you the chance to choose whose pavilion you’d visit. She ambushed you in the corridor, dragged you here without a word of invitation or permission. You can put two and two together.

You lean closer, lips brushing the shell of her ear.

“I don’t care what games you play with Xinyu. But when it comes to me? Be a good woman. Look pretty. Stay quiet.”

Shuhua’s breath hitches. Then she laughs, clearly defiant, the sound vibrating against your chest.

“Quiet?”

She whispers back.

“That’s no fun. That’s what Tzuyu does. You like it when I talk back. Admit it.”

You don’t answer with words. Instead, you shift your weight, turning her over so she’s on her stomach beneath you. She lets out a startled huff, palms pressing into the quilt as she tries to push up. You plant a hand between her shoulder blades, applying pressure. Your other hand finds the hem of her robe. You drag it up, bunching the silk at her waist until her lower half is completely bare to the lamplight. The curve of her ass, the smooth dip of her spine, the faint sheen of arousal already glistening between her thighs…it’s all exposed. You settle behind her, knees bracketing her hips. Your cock, still hard from her earlier teasing, nudges against her entrance. You lean down, chest pressing along her back, mouth at her ear again.

“The only thing you need to know tonight is how to take my cock.”

Shuhua opens her mouth, probably to fire off another bratty retort. But you don’t give her the chance. You push in with one steady thrust. She chokes on whatever words were coming, body arching sharply beneath you. A raw, broken sound escapes her - half moan, half gasp - as you sink deep, stretching her open in one go. Her walls clench wildly around your length, hot and slick and greedy despite her earlier bravado. You don’t pause. You pull back almost to the tip, then drive in again, harder this time, hips snapping forward. The wet slap of skin on skin fills the pavilion, louder than the distant waves outside. Shuhua’s fingers claw at the quilt. Her cheek presses into the cushion, mouth open, breaths coming in short, ragged bursts. Every thrust rocks her forward, every withdrawal drags a whimper from her throat. You keep the rhythm steady, just like she would if she were on top: deep, punishing, no gentleness. One hand slides up to grip her hip, holding her exactly where you want her. The other tangles in her hair so she can’t hide her face. She tries to speak again, but it dissolves into a moan when you angle your hips and hit that spot inside her that makes her whole body tremble. You lean down once more, lips grazing the nape of her neck.

“Quiet.”

You remind her.

“Pretty and quiet.”

She shudders beneath you, walls clenching hard around your cock. But she doesn’t talk back. At least not yet.

You keep the rhythm harsh, each thrust slamming deep, hips colliding with the soft curve of her ass in sharp, punishing slaps that echo through the small pavilion. The bed frame creaks under the force. The quilt bunches beneath her fists. Shuhua’s earlier pretense of quiet vanishes entirely. Instead, she moans. Loud, unrestrained, throatier than you’ve ever heard from her. The sounds spill out raw, carrying through the thin silk screens and into the garden beyond.

She wants the whole estate to hear. Every cry is pitched just right, high enough to pierce the night, drawn out enough to linger. It’s not pleasure alone, it’s performance. A declaration.

“This is me. This is who he’s choosing tonight. This could be the one who carries his next child.”

Your hand shoots forward, clamping over her mouth. Your palm seals tight against her lips, fingers pressing her cheek into the cushion.

“Quiet.”

Shuhua’s eyes flash. She doesn’t obey. Instead, she bites down hard enough to sting, teeth sinking into the meat of your palm. You hiss through your teeth but don’t pull away. She twists her head just enough to speak around your fingers, voice muffled but dripping with bratty triumph.

“Mmph-make me.”

She manages, the words fractured by another loud, broken moan as you drive in particularly deep.

That’s enough. You decide she doesn’t get to keep that smug little voice tonight. You pull your hand free only to slide it down, fingers wrapping around the slender column of her throat. Not choking…yet. Just firm enough to feel her pulse hammering against your palm. You give a light squeeze, then another, timing them with your thrusts. Each press makes her cough, short, startled gasps that cut off her moans mid-note. Her walls spasm around your cock in response, slick and clenching like she can’t decide whether to fight or surrender.

You pound harder. Relentless. No pause, no mercy. The wet slap of skin on skin grows louder and faster. Your hips snap forward with bruising force, burying yourself to the hilt every time, grinding against her cervix until her whole body jolts. Shuhua’s moans fracture completely, reduced to choked whimpers, then to breathless little ah-ah-ah sounds that can’t quite form words anymore. Her nails rake the quilt. Her back arches sharply, trying to take you deeper even as her lungs fight for air. You feel the heat coiling low in your gut, the telltale tightening. Your rhythm stutters for half a second as you chase the edge. Shuhua feels it too. Her body knows exactly what’s coming. She tries to speak again, voice wrecked and trembling, forcing innocence into the words even as her hips push back desperately against you.

“Please… fill me.”

She whispers, soft and sweet like she’s begging for a favor.

“Inside… please, my lord…”

You see straight through it. The wide eyes, the trembling lower lip, the way she clenches around you like she’s trying to milk you dry...She wants your seed. Wants the chance to swell like Xinyu, to claim the one thing your wife already has secured. After tonight’s attitude - the corridor ambush, the loud moans meant to taunt the entire household - you’re not in the mood to reward her.

No. When the pressure builds to breaking, you pull out quickly enough. Shuhua lets out a sharp, disappointed whine, cut short as you stroke yourself twice and spill across her ass. Thick ropes of cum paint her skin in hot streaks, dripping down the curve of her cheeks and pooling in the small of her back. She trembles beneath you, thighs shaking, breath ragged.

You release her throat. She coughs once, twice, then goes still.

For a long moment there’s only the sound of both of you breathing. Shuhua doesn’t move. Doesn’t speak. Her face is half-buried in the cushion, hair tangled, cheeks flushed dark. The disappointment is plain in the way her shoulders slump, the way her hips twitch once like she’s still hoping you’ll push back in. But she doesn’t dare say it. She doesn’t dare ask why you didn’t finish inside her. She just lies there - marked, used, unsatisfied - while the night outside stays quiet, as if the rest of the estate never heard a thing.

Eight days later, the morning sun filters softly through the carved wooden screens of the garden pavilion. The air carries the fresh scent of sea breeze mixed with jasmine from the nearby bushes. Servants move quietly, setting out steaming bowls of congee topped with pickled vegetables, fresh steamed buns, salted fish, and fragrant tea brewed with Taiwanese herbs. Xinyu is absent this morning. A maid quietly mentioned that the lady woke with mild nausea and chose to rest in her chambers. No one questions it. Pregnancy has its demands.

You sit at the head of the low table. To your right, in their usual order: Tzuyu closest, then Shuhua, then Nien. All three wear light morning robes.

The conversation flows easily, as it always does at these meals. Nien chatters about a new shipment of mangoes that arrived from the island yesterday.

“They’re so sweet this season, my lord. Much better than the ones we get here in Xiamen.”

Shuhua laughs and teases her gently.

“You say that every time a ship docks. One would think you’ve never tasted mainland fruit before.”

Tzuyu adds a soft comment about the weather and how the garden lotus flowers are beginning to bloom. She serves you a perfectly steamed bun with her usual grace, placing it on your plate without drawing attention to herself.

You eat steadily, nodding at their words, but your mind keeps drifting back to last night.

Tzuyu’s pavilion. The way her long legs wrapped around you, her quiet gasps turning into soft cries as you filled her twice. Two creampies that left her belly slightly swollen with your seed by the time you left her bed. The memory is still vivid: her elegant face flushed, eyes half-lidded with satisfaction, whispering your title like a prayer while her body trembled around you.

You glance at her now. Tzuyu catches your eye for a brief moment, a faint blush coloring her cheeks before she looks down at her bowl. You wonder silently what would happen if Xinyu gives birth to a daughter… while Tzuyu, after last night, carries your son. The first male heir coming from one of the Taiwanese concubines instead of the principal wife. The shift in power, the whispers among the servants, the way the household balance would tilt…You picture Xinyu’s face. That carefully controlled expression cracking into agitation and quiet fury. The drama that would ripple through the inner quarters, the three girls suddenly competing even harder. The thought amuses you. A low chuckle escapes your lips before you can stop it.

At that exact moment, Shuhua is in the middle of telling a light, exaggerated story about one of the kitchen maids mistaking a crab for a sea monster during yesterday’s market trip. Her delivery is sharp and funny, the timing perfect. Everyone at the table turns toward you, assuming your laugh was for Shuhua’s tale.

Nien giggles.

“See? Even the General finds it amusing!”

Tzuyu smiles softly, though her eyes flicker with a hint of curiosity. Shuhua’s back straightens instantly. Her shoulders square with visible triumph, a small, satisfied smirk tugging at her lips. She usually doesn’t get open favor when all three of you are together. You keep things balanced to prevent open jealousy. But this morning, that chuckle lands squarely on her. She sits a little taller, her emerald robe shifting as she leans forward just enough to emphasize her figure.

“Thank you, my lord. I’m glad my silly story could brighten the morning.”

You don’t correct them. Instead, you take another sip of tea. Shuhua’s eyes sparkle with quiet victory, while Tzuyu lowers her gaze again, fingers tightening slightly around her chopsticks. Nien watches the exchange with open curiosity, popping a piece of fruit into her mouth. Conversation picks up once more around the table. You glance at Tzuyu one more time. She meets your eyes again, before looking away. The breakfast continues with the gentle clinking of porcelain. Nien is now telling a lively story about a mischievous monkey she once saw near the harbor in Tainan as a child, while Shuhua occasionally interjects with teasing remarks. Tzuyu eats quietly.

You set down your chopsticks and reach for the tray of letters next to you which is holding several folded papers sealed with wax or tied with silk threads. You take the tray and begin sorting through them one by one while the girls continue eating and talking around you. The first is a routine report from one of your merchants in Fuzhou: dull matters of silk prices and shipping delays. You scan it quickly and set it aside. The second is a polite note from the local magistrate, thanking you for the recent favor regarding harbor patrols. Nothing urgent. You unfold the third letter. The paper is fine, the handwriting elegant and careful. The seal belongs to a respected Han family from the Tainan region. Tzuyu’s parents, a merchant-official clan that had aligned itself with the Qing after the conquest. They address you with the proper respect due to a victorious general.

“Honored General,

We are overjoyed to hear of the great blessing that has been granted to your household - a child on the way. May Heaven continue to smile upon you and grant your line strength and prosperity for generations.”

“News travels fast.”

You murmur with an amused scoff. The three concubines glance up at you almost simultaneously. Tzuyu’s chopsticks pause mid-air. She must recognize her family’s seal Shuhua’s eyes narrow with interest. Nien tilts her head.

You continue reading. The tone shifts from polite congratulations to something more direct, as expected from ambitious parents who see their daughter as a bridge to greater favor.

“We humbly pray that you will also bestow the same blessing upon our daughter Tzuyu. She is dutiful, graceful, and eager to serve you fully. A son from her would bring even greater glory to your household and secure the bonds between our families. We entrust her completely to your wisdom and care.”

You lower the letter. Your eyes lift and meet Tzuyu’s across the table. She is watching you now, a faint flush creeping up her neck, probably able to guess what the letter of her parents includes. You remember last night vividly: the way she clung to you, the two thick loads you pumped deep inside her, her quiet moans as her body accepted every drop. The thought flickers through your mind again: what if Xinyu bears only a daughter… while Tzuyu is already carrying your son from last night? The potential drama makes the corner of your mouth twitch.

You set the letter down without further comment and pick up the fourth one. This one carries the official seal of Admiral Shi Lang’s command. The handwriting is brisk. You unfold it and scan the contents. It is an order.

“General,

Pirate remnants loyal to the old Zheng cause have grown bold again near Penghu and the southern Taiwan coast. They have raided three merchant junks in the past month and threaten the new settlement routes. You are commanded to take your squadron of ships and two hundred Green Standard troops to suppress these bandits. Depart within ten days. Stabilize the sea lanes and ensure safe passage for imperial trade.”

You read the key lines in silence, then fold the letter neatly and place it on the tray. You take another sip of tea, mind already turning to preparations. Ships to ready, troops to muster, supplies to organize. A campaign of several weeks, perhaps two or three months if the pirates prove slippery.

The morning sun climbs higher as breakfast ends. You leave the garden pavilion with the weight of the military order already pressing on your mind. Preparations for the campaign will take most of your upcoming days.

A few hours later, in a shaded pavilion overlooking the lotus pond, Xinyu sits across from Lady Wei, the wife of the coastal garrison commander who had attended the dinner the night she announced her pregnancy. They play a quiet game of Weiqi on a low rosewood board. Xinyu moves a white stone with elegant precision.

“Your defense is as sharp as ever, Lady Wei.”

The older woman chuckles, placing a black stone to surround a small group.

“One must stay vigilant, especially when new life is growing. How are you feeling this morning? The nausea has passed?”

“A little better. The physician says it is normal in the early months.”

Lady Wei nods knowingly, then adds with a light smile:

“A strong son will make all the discomfort worthwhile. The household will feel more secure once the heir is born.”

Xinyu’s fingers pause over the next stone. The word “son” lingers in the air. She had said the same thing to you many times. She is certain it is a boy. Yet the comment makes her think. She knows you have been spending your nights with the three Taiwanese concubines ever since the pregnancy was confirmed. It is expected, of course. A man of your status cannot be left wanting, and she herself had told you to seek siblings for the child. Still, the reality stings more than she cares to admit. Every morning she notices the faint marks on your neck, the way the girls glance at you with fresh satisfaction. What if one of them is already carrying? What if she gives you only a daughter while one of those island girls produces a son? Her position as principal wife is secure in name, but influence in the household is something else entirely. As the game continues, Xinyu turns the stones over in her mind. She should actively support one of the concubines in front of you. Better to guide the choice than let the competition spiral out of control. Tzuyu is quiet and reserved, but Xinyu suspects it might be a clever front. The girl could be far more calculating than she appears. Shuhua is too wild, too unpredictable. Her sharp tongue and bold nature would make her dangerous if she gained real power. Nien, though… Nien seems the safest. Cute, playful, loveable. She doesn’t scheme openly for status or influence. She simply enjoys attention and seems content with whatever affection she receives. A son from Nien would be easy to manage.

Just as Xinyu settles on that thought, she glances toward the main path and sees you walking toward the outer gates, already dressed for the day’s duties. Dark robe with a military sash, boots ready for the harbor. She excuses herself gracefully.

“Please continue without me for a moment, Lady Wei. I must speak with my husband before he leaves.”

Xinyu rises and walks over to you with slow steps, her crimson robe flowing around her still modest belly. You stop when you see her.

“Xinyu. Are you feeling better this morning?”

She smiles softly, placing a hand lightly over her abdomen.

“Much better, my lord. The boy is behaving himself today.”

You nod, eyes flicking to her hand.

“Good. Take care of yourself…and him.”

Xinyu hesitates only a moment, then speaks with careful subtlety.

“The girls have been attentive lately. Especially Nien. She has such a gentle, cheerful way about her. It brightens the household.”

You acknowledge the comment with a small hum, already thinking about the campaign preparations. Xinyu continues, making it a touch more obvious.

“She would make a fine companion for your nights while I rest. Playful and easy to please. I think you would enjoy her company more often.”

You raise an eyebrow, finally catching the suggestion.

“Nien?”

Xinyu meets your gaze.

“Yes. She seems the least likely to cause unnecessary trouble. A good choice for now.”

You study her for a beat, then nod once.

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

She smiles again, satisfied that the seed has been planted.

“Go safely with your preparations today. The household will be waiting for your return.”

You bid her farewell and continue toward the gates. Once you are out of sight, Xinyu stands still for a moment, then turns to a waiting maid. She knows your weaknesses well. You can be firm with troops and merchants, but when it comes to the four women in your life, you sometimes let things flow too easily without seeing the undercurrents.

“Call for Nien. Tell her I have a small errand for her in the Xiamen market. She should fetch some fresh Taiwanese mangoes and herbs for my tea. Make sure she leaves soon.”

The maid bows and hurries off.

The midday sun beats down on the bustling Xiamen docks, turning the sea into a glittering expanse of blue. You stand on the raised deck of one of your junks, overseeing the final preparations for the upcoming campaign. Sailors and soldiers swarm the ships, loading barrels of fresh water, crates of dried provisions, bundles of arrows, and extra matchlock muskets. Officers shout orders while carpenters hammer reinforcements onto the hulls. The air smells of salt, tar, fish, and sweat.

You gesture to one of your lieutenants, pointing at a list on a bamboo scroll.

“Double the rice stores. We may be out for two months if the pirates scatter into the smaller islands.”

While the man nods and hurries off, your eyes drift across the crowded waterfront market that sprawls along the docks. Merchants hawk goods straight from newly arrived ships: bolts of silk, crates of tea, Taiwanese fruits, and baskets of wriggling seafood. Fishermen call out their morning catches, their voices blending into the lively chaos.

Then you spot her. Nien moves through the crowd with a small group of maids trailing behind. She wears a simple but pretty peach-colored robe suitable for an outing with subtle floral embroidery that catches the sunlight. Her dark hair is loosely pinned with a few fresh flowers, and her face glows with genuine delight as she examines a stand piled high with ripe mangoes and exotic herbs. She laughs at something one of the maids says, her smile bright and carefree, completely at ease in the noisy market.

You watch her for a moment from your higher vantage point. She looks beautiful, youthful, playful, radiating that innocent charm that always seems to lighten the mood. For a few heartbeats you simply enjoy the sight, the way she tilts her head, the gentle sway of her robe as she reaches for a piece of fruit. Then you remember Xinyu’s words from earlier.

“…Nien. She seems the least likely to cause unnecessary trouble. A good choice for now.”

You hesitate, fingers tightening around the railing. It is broad daylight. You are in the middle of important preparations. Usually, you do not ask for such things so directly, especially not outside the privacy of the estate. And Nien… she is always so bright and cheerful, almost too pure for the kind of raw hunger stirring in you right now. Taking her in some semi-private corner of the market feels almost sinful. Like treating her like a common dockside whore instead of one of your cherished concubines. But the order to depart in ten days hangs over you. The campaign will keep you away for weeks, maybe months. And Xinyu herself planted the suggestion.

You descend the gangplank and stride into the crowded market, your military sash and commanding presence causing people to part instinctively. Merchants bow quickly as you pass. Your eyes stay fixed on Nien. She is standing at a merchant’s stall, happily bargaining over a bundle of fresh Taiwanese herbs when you approach from behind. One of her maids notices you first and quickly bows. Nien turns, and her face lights up with a bright, surprised smile.

“My lord! A wonderful coincidence!”

You nod, suddenly unsure how to steer the conversation. The usual elegance of the inner quarters feels far away in this noisy, public place. Nien tilts her head, still smiling that sunny, innocent smile.

“The mangoes are especially sweet today. Would you like me to pick some for the journey?”

You look at her.  At the way her eyes sparkle, the soft curve of her lips, the way her robe clings lightly to her figure in the sea breeze. Xinyu’s suggestion echoes again in your ear. For a moment the contrast hits you hard. She looks so cheerful and lovable standing here among the common people. It almost feels wrong to pull her away for something so base in the middle of the day.

Yet the hunger wins. You step closer, voice dropping so only she can hear.

“Nien… come with me for a moment.”

She blinks, still smiling, though a flicker of curiosity enters her eyes.

“Of course, my lord. Where to?”

You glance around quickly. The market is crowded, but you know this waterfront well. There is a large merchant warehouse belonging to one of your loyal suppliers just a short walk away. The upper floor has private rooms used for business negotiations, and the owner would never dare question your presence.

You gesture subtly in that direction.

“Follow me. Quietly.”

Nien hands the bundle of herbs to one of her maids with a quick instruction to continue shopping, then falls into step beside you. As you lead her through the crowd toward the warehouse, the sinful contrast lingers in your mind. She chatters lightly about the market finds, completely unaware of what you have in mind, while you feel the growing heat of anticipation. The warehouse door looms ahead. A quick word to the guard at the entrance, and he bows, clearing the way without a single question. The heavy warehouse door slides shut behind you with a solid thud, cutting off the noisy clamor of the market and the sharp smell of fish and salt air. In the sudden quiet, the only thing left is Nien. Her soft, feminine scent hits you immediately. Warm skin, faint jasmine from her hair, and that sweet, light perfume she always wears, mixed with the faint tropical sweetness of the mangoes she had been handling. It floods your senses and triggers a rush of memories. Her giggles in the dark, the way her body arches so willingly beneath you, the soft little sounds she makes when you’re gentle with her.

Your lust surges hard and fast, climbing with every step you take deeper into the dim corridor. You never make it to the private room upstairs. Two steps in, you lightly shove her against a tall stack of wooden crates and barrels. Nien’s back meets the wood with a soft gasp. Her eyes widen in surprise. The playful sparkle is replaced by genuine shock.

“My lord…?”

She stutters, voice small.

“Are you alright?”

You don’t answer with words at first. Your mouth is already on her neck, lips pressing hot against that sensitive spot just below her ear. The one you know makes her knees weak. You kiss, then suck gently, tasting her skin. Nien melts instantly. A shaky breath escapes her. Her hands come up to clutch at your robe, but she still tries to hold onto some dignity.

“W-wait… my lord.”

She whispers, voice trembling even as her head tilts to give you better access.

“Shouldn’t we… go somewhere more private? My chambers… or at least upstairs…”

“I can’t wait another second.”

One hand already roams over her body through the thin peach silk. You cup her breast, squeeze her waist, slide down to grip her hip.

“I’m sorry, Nien. I hate doing this to you like this… like you’re some commoner’s whore in the middle of the docks.”

Nien gasps sharply at your words, her body shivering against yours. Then, to your surprise, a tiny, cute laugh bubbles out of her. Nervous but genuine. She pulls back just enough to look up at you, cheeks flushed pink.

“Do you… want me to act the part?”

You blink, stepping back half a pace in surprise. Nien lets out another soft laugh, shy but playful, covering her mouth with her fingers for a moment.

“I love how careful and loving you always are with me.”

She admits quietly.

“It makes me feel special. But… whenever I hear Shuhua moaning so loudly through the estate, or when I walk past Xinyu’s chambers and hear her begging for more… I can’t help but wonder how it feels to be treated rough sometimes.”

You stare at her, caught off guard by the confession.

“I only treat you this way because of how you look and act. You’re always so cheerful and loving… like a beautiful flower that should be handled gently. Shuhua is just exaggerating when she-”

Nien shakes her head, a playful smile tugging at her lips.

“You really don’t believe the three of us talk about these things? Shuhua brags about it all the time.”

She closes the small distance you created, stepping right up to you again. Her small hands reach down and slowly start undoing the ties of your pants, fingers deft and steady despite the blush on her cheeks.

“You can treat me however you want, my lord. Even if that means I’m just an object for you to release your lust into. I’d… appreciate being treated like that from time to time as well.”

Her fingers finish loosening your pants and slip inside, wrapping gently around your already hard cock. The innocent, cheerful Nien is still there in her bright smile, but now there’s a new spark of curiosity and desire in her gaze. A quiet invitation to be rougher, dirtier, to use her the way you use Shuhua.

“So… what will you do with me, my lord?”

She asks sweetly, almost innocently, while her hand works your length.

“Here, against the crates… like I’m just your little dockside toy?”

The contrast between her cute voice and the filthy offer makes your blood burn even hotter. Your hands tighten on her waist, the raw need from moments ago now completely unleashed. You spin Nien around without warning and shove her forward against the stack of wooden crates. You’re careful not to be too rough at first, just enough force to pin her in place, her palms flattening against the rough wood as she braces herself. Nien lets out a sharp little gasp, her body jolting. A moment later she pushes her ass back against you instinctively, grinding softly, silently asking for more. Your hands roam over her body from behind, sliding up her waist, cupping her breasts through the thin peach silk, then moving down to grip her hips again.

She tries to speak. Her voice is a little awkward as she attempts something filthy.

“I… I’m your little… dockside toy now.”

She stammers a little, the words sounding almost cute despite her effort.

“Use me… however you want…”

You can’t help the small smile that tugs at your lips.

“You don’t have to try so hard.”

You murmur against her ear, one hand already pushing her robe up. You bunch the silk around her waist until her lower body is completely exposed. Nien whimpers softly.

“I’m sorry… I’ll learn. I want to pleasure you as good as I can. I really do.”

You line yourself up and push into her in one thrust. Her pussy is soaked. She’s hot, slick, and surprisingly tight around your cock. Nien moans immediately, a sweet, surprised sound that echoes softly in the dim corridor.

“Oh… my lord…”

She pushes back against you again. You start fucking her from behind, slow and deep at first, letting her adjust. But the hunger from earlier is too strong. You gradually lean into it, picking up speed, pounding harder with each thrust. The wet slap of skin against skin fills the narrow space between the crates. Nien does her best to keep up. Her hands grip the edge of the crate stack tightly, knuckles whitening. She’s never taken you this roughly before, and it shows. Her body trembles as she tries to get used to the intensity. Still, she keeps trying to talk, her voice breaking with every hard snap of your hips.

“You… ah!… you feel so big like this…H-hurry… before anyone sees us…”

There’s no real worry in her tone. If anything, the idea of getting caught seems to excite her. Her pussy clenches tighter around you with every teasing word, and her moans grow a little louder, a little sweeter. You grip her hips harder and thrust deeper, the pace turning rougher. Nien’s legs shake. She bites her lip, trying to stifle another moan, but it slips out anyway.

“I… I can take it…Please… don’t hold back… I want to be good for you…”

Her walls spasm around your cock as you pound into her, the contrast between her usual bright, cheerful self and the way she’s bent over crates in a warehouse only making you fuck her harder. Nien’s breathing turns ragged. She’s clearly still adjusting to the rough treatment, but she’s doing everything she can to please you, pushing her ass back to meet your thrusts, moaning softly with every deep stroke, even trying to keep up her awkward dirty talk between gasps.

You grip Nien harder and start fucking her with real roughness. Your hips snap forward with sharp, punishing thrusts, driving deep into her soaked pussy again and again. The wooden crates creak under the force. One of your hands slides up her back, tangles roughly in her dark hair, and tugs her head back. Several of the pretty flowers she had pinned in earlier tumble to the dusty floor.

“Ahh-!”

A loud, broken moan rips out of her, much louder than before. Her body jolts with every hard thrust, but instead of tensing up, she starts pushing back to meet you, her hips rolling greedily. The awkwardness from moments ago has completely vanished. Now her words spill out naturally, filthy and eager, each one making your cock throb harder inside her.

“Yes-! Fuck me harder, my lord…! Use your little dockside whore… I don’t care if someone walks in right now-I’ll still take every inch of your cock!”

You pound into her faster, the wet sounds of her pussy echoing in the narrow corridor. Nien keeps going, her voice growing bolder with every thrust.

“Take my sweetness away… ruin me…! Fuck the cheerfulness out of your cute little flower… Make me your dirty toy every single day… Please-use me like this whenever you want… I’ll spread my legs for you anywhere!”

You’re genuinely surprised by how loud she’s getting…and how much she’s talking. Shuhua has always been the loudest by far while Tzuyu is the quietest, usually only soft gasps and whispered pleas. Xinyu and Nien normally fall somewhere in the middle, depending on their mood. But right now? Nien has clearly surpassed Xinyu. Her moans are high, sweet, and shameless, filling the warehouse corridor without restraint. If she keeps this up, she might even challenge Shuhua for the top spot. The thought sends another surge of heat through you. You yank her hair a little harder, slamming into her with deep strokes. Nien’s legs shake violently, but she doesn’t try to quiet down. Instead, she cries out even louder.

“Harder-! Please, my lord… I can take it… I want you to break me… Fill me up right here where anyone could see… I don’t care-just use me!”

Her pussy clenches rhythmically around your cock, slick and hot, clearly loving the rough treatment. Every dirty word that leaves her mouth turns you on more, the contrast between her usual bright, innocent personality and the filthy things she’s begging for right now driving you wild. Nien’s voice cracks into another loud moan as you pound her without mercy.

“Do you like hearing your sweet Nien talk like this…? I’ll be louder for you… I’ll scream if you want… Just don’t stop-!”

You can feel her getting closer, her walls clenching around you with every rough thrust. Her cheerful, lovable demeanor has cracked wide open, revealing a hungry, surprisingly vocal side you never expected. She’s still pushing back against you desperately, flowers scattered on the floor around her feet, robe bunched uselessly at her waist, moaning and babbling dirty promises without any shame left.

But the rough pace suddenly changes the moment Nien reaches her peak. Her walls clamp down hard around your cock, fluttering and pulsing in strong, irregular waves. A loud, trembling moan tears from her throat. Then it softens, breaking apart into the familiar sweet sighs and delicate gasps you’re used to hearing from her.

“Ah… ahh… my lord…”

She whimpers, voice turning small and breathy again. For a few heartbeats she sounds exactly like the same old Nien - cute, sweet, almost innocent - as if the filthy words from moments ago had never left her lips. Your body reacts on instinct. You slow down immediately, thrusts turning gentler, almost protective. Something inside you refuses to keep pounding such a sweet, soft girl against dirty crates in a random warehouse. Your hips roll slowly, carefully, letting her ride out the aftershocks while you stay buried deep inside her.

Nien’s breathing gradually steadies. Her head rests against the wooden crate, eyes half-lidded, cheeks flushed a pretty pink. Then, to your surprise, her soft voice returns. Still gentle, still sweet, but now carrying a new, shy request.

“…Please… give me your cum. I want it inside… Fill me up, my lord…”

You blink, caught off guard. Nien has never asked for your seed like this before. The words sound almost too filthy coming from her usual bright, cheerful tone. You wonder if she picked that up from listening to Shuhua’s loud bragging sessions through the walls. You aren’t pounding her anymore, just slow, gentle thrusts, keeping her full while you process the contrast. Her innocent voice begging for something so dirty makes your head spin even harder than the rough fucking did.

“I want to feel it… deep inside me… Please cum for me…”

That sweet, lovable tone combined with her filthy plea finally pushes you over the edge. Your orgasm hits hard. You groan low against her neck and spill deep into her waiting pussy, thick ropes of cum flooding her warmth. Nien gasps and moans sweetly as she feels every pulse, her walls shaking again around you as if trying to milk out every drop.

“Thank you…Thank you for using me…”

Your lust slowly drains away, leaving your body heavy. You slump forward slightly, pressing her gently between your chest and the stack of crates. She’s trapped there, unable to move, your cock still buried inside her cum-filled cunt as it slowly softens.

For a long moment neither of you speaks. Then Nien lets out a shy little laugh.

“I… I enjoyed that very much. I don’t want to ask you to be so rough with me all the time… but whenever you’re in the mood for it… you can have me like this. Anytime.”

You lean down and press a soft kiss to her naked shoulder. The robe had slipped down earlier when you were tugging at it. Her skin is warm and slightly damp with sweat. Your eyes drift to the floor. A few scattered flowers lie among the dust. You make a mental note to buy her new ones on the way back to the estate later today. Her favorites.

You stay locked together like that for a while longer, your body shielding hers, cock still nestled inside her. Then Nien’s usual bright energy slowly returns. Even with you still buried deep inside her, her mind seems to drift far away from sex. She starts chattering again in that cheerful, playful voice you know so well.

“After you come back from your duties today… do you think we could play a game together? Maybe Weiqi in the garden pavilion? Or that new card game the merchants brought from the south? I’ve been practicing!”

You can tell she’s genuinely excited. Not about more sex, but simply about spending time with you. Her tone is light and happy, as if the intense moment against the crates had already become a fond memory rather than the main focus. You smile against her shoulder.

“I’ll make sure I have some time before dinner.”

Nien lets out a delighted little hum, her body relaxing even more against you.

A month has passed. The campaign against the pirate remnants has been grueling. Weeks of chasing shadows across the Taiwan Strait, stormy seas, and tense night raids on hidden coves near Penghu. Your squadron has sunk three pirate junks and scattered the rest, but the work is far from over.

Three days ago, while your ships were resupplying at a small harbor on the western coast of Taiwan, a messenger arrived from Nien’s family. Somehow, they had learned of your presence and extended a formal invitation. You and a small retinue were welcome to stay at their modest but respectable estate near Tainan for the remainder of the campaign. It would give your men safer anchorage and better provisions while you coordinated with local Qing officials. You hesitated for several reasons. Staying with the family of one of your concubines carried political weight. It could be seen as favoritism. It might also encourage the very competition you preferred to keep balanced. But refusing the offer outright would have been a grave insult to a family that had already lost much influence after the conquest. So, you accepted with measured gratitude.

Now you stand in the guest quarters of their estate, quickly cleaning yourself after another long week at sea. Servants bring fresh hot water and clean robes. You wash the salt from your skin, change into a simple but dignified dark silk robe, and make your way to the main hall for dinner. The hall is warmly lit with lanterns and candles. A long lacquered table is set with an impressive spread of fresh seafood, braised pork, fragrant rice, pickled vegetables, and delicate soups. Nien’s father, a scholarly looking man in his late forties named Master Lin, rises to greet you with a deep, respectful bow. His wife, Madam Lin, stands beside him, elegant in a muted green robe, her expression warm.

“General.”

Master Lin gestures for you to take the seat of honor.

“We are deeply honored by your presence. Please, make yourself comfortable. This humble home is yours for as long as you need it.”

You bow slightly in return and take your seat.

“I must thank you again for your generous hospitality. Your offer has made the campaign far more bearable. My men and I are grateful.”

Master Lin is tactful and measured as the meal begins. He speaks of the weather, the recent trade routes, and the stability the Qing has brought to the region. He never directly mentions Nien or any expectations. Yet you can read between the lines. This invitation is strategic. By hosting you, he strengthens his family’s ties to a powerful general and hopes his daughter will rise in your household. Still, he remains polite and respectful.

His wife is different. Madam Lin smiles sweetly as she serves you a choice piece of fish.

“Our Nien has always been such a bright and loving child.”

Her eyes flicker toward you.

“She brings such joy wherever she goes. We pray every day that she continues to bring that same joy… and perhaps even greater blessings… to your esteemed household.”

The hint is gentle but unmistakable. She doesn’t say the words “get her pregnant,” but the meaning is clear. They hope Nien will soon follow Xinyu’s example and give you another child…ideally a son.

You nod politely, murmuring thanks, but inside you feel the weight of the conversation. Eating with Nien’s parents is proving almost as exhausting as fighting pirates. Every smile, every carefully worded comment feels like navigating hidden reefs. As Madam Lin continues praising Nien’s sweetness, her gentle nature, and her “pure heart,” your mind drifts unavoidably to memories that make you feel strangely guilty. The warehouse a month ago. Nien bent over those crates, moaning filthily while you fucked her raw in broad daylight. The way she begged you to ruin her sweetness, to use her like a toy. The flowers scattered on the dirty floor.

And then the night just two days before your departure from Xiamen…You had gone to her chambers expecting another gentle, sweet night. At first it was exactly that - soft kisses, her bright laughter, her body warm and welcoming beneath you. But then, to your surprise, Nien had gently pushed you onto your back. For the first time ever, she climbed on top of you, straddled your hips, and slowly sank down onto your cock. She rode you with shy determination, her small hands on your chest, her hair falling around her face as she moved. Her moans had been softer than in the warehouse, but there was a new hunger in her eyes. She had whispered things she had never said before, asking if she was pleasing you, if you liked the way she took control for once. You can still picture the way her breasts bounced gently with each roll of her hips, the cute, concentrated expression on her face as she tried to ride you to completion.

Now, sitting here at her parents’ table while her mother praises that same “sweet, innocent” daughter, the contrast hits you hard. You feel almost like you’ve corrupted something pure. The cheerful, lovable Nien who chatters about games and flowers is the same girl who begged you to treat her like a dockside whore and then sweetly asked for your cum while riding you.

Madam Lin’s voice pulls you back.

“…and we are certain that with your guidance, our daughter will continue to grow and flourish in every way.”

You raise your cup in a polite toast, hiding your thoughts behind a calm expression.

The dinner continues. The food is excellent, but the conversation is a careful dance. Master Lin steers topics toward safer waters like local governance, the pirate situation,  and your recent victories. Madam Lin occasionally slips in another gentle hint about family, legacy, and the blessings of many children. You eat and respond with politeness, all while vivid memories of Nien, both the innocent and the surprisingly eager versions, linger at the edge of your mind.

Your ships slipped into Xiamen harbor just before midnight, the sails heavy with salt and victory. It took nearly two more hours to organize the docking, unloading wounded men, securing captured pirate banners and weapons, assigning guards, and sending preliminary reports to Admiral Shi Lang. By the time you finally mounted your horse and rode toward the estate, the moon was high and the streets of Xiamen were quiet.

As you approach the main gates, you notice something unusual. Despite the late hour, lanterns are lit along every path and courtyard. Warm golden light spills from windows and pavilions. The entire estate is awake. The moment the heavy gates swing open and you step into the main courtyard, you are greeted exactly as expected. Nearly the entire household has gathered. Servants line the sides holding lanterns. Your steward stands at the front with a deep bow. And in the center, waiting for you, are the four women who rule your inner world.

Xinyu stands slightly ahead of the others, her crimson robe flowing around her noticeably larger belly. Three months have transformed her. The gentle curve has become a full, rounded swell that she carries with quiet pride. Her hair is neatly pinned, and though fatigue shadows her eyes, she holds herself with the dignity of the principal wife. Behind her stand the three concubines in a neat row. Tzuyu on the left, elegant in pale blue silk, posture perfect as always. Shuhua in the middle, vibrant green robes hugging her figure, a small smirk already playing on her lips. Nien on the right, soft peach silk glowing in the lantern light, her bright smile lighting up her face the moment she sees you.

As one, they all bow deeply.

“Welcome home, General.”

Xinyu says first.

“Welcome home, my lord.”

The three concubines echo, their voices blending together.

You return the greeting with a nod.

“It is good to be back.”

You step closer to Xinyu, eyes dropping instinctively to her swollen belly. You reach out and gently touch her arm.

“Are you doing alright? You shouldn’t have stayed up so late or woken the entire household just to welcome me. You need rest, especially now.”

Xinyu meets your gaze. There is clear love in her eyes, soft and genuine, even beneath the exhaustion.

“It is my duty as your wife.”

She replies simply.

“And… I wanted to see you return safely.”

You nod, then turn to address everyone.

“Go back to sleep. All of you. The night is late and tomorrow will be busy enough.”

The servants and steward immediately begin to scatter with bows and quiet murmurs of:

“Yes, General.”

Xinyu starts to turn with you as you guide her gently toward her chambers, one hand resting lightly at the small of her back to support her. Before you’ve taken more than a few steps, Xinyu pauses and glances back at the retreating maids.

“Prepare some warm food for the General. Light congee, steamed buns, and tea. Bring it to my chambers.”

The maids bow and hurry off to obey.

The three concubines remain standing for a moment longer, watching as you lead Xinyu away. You can feel their eyes on your back. None of them speak, but the air is thick with unspoken anticipation. They know you have just returned after three long months. They know the nights ahead will be filled with competition once again.

You continue walking with Xinyu, the lanterns along the path lighting your way toward her pavilion. Her steps are slower now, weighted by the growing child inside her. She leans into your touch, the love in her eyes still visible even in the dim light.

You reach the entrance to Xinyu’s chambers. The heavy silk curtains sway gently in the night breeze. Xinyu looks up at you, one hand resting protectively over her rounded belly.

“Will you stay with me tonight, my lord?”

She asks softly, though she already knows the answer may not be simple. You look down at your salt stained robes and travel worn appearance, then gently shake your head.

“I do not dare enter your halls in this state. I smell of the sea and weeks of campaign. Let me bathe first. I promise I will return afterward.”

Xinyu studies you for a moment, then a small, teasing smile curves her lips.

“Very well, my lord. But do not take too long. A wife can only be patient for so long… especially when her husband has been away for three months.”

You give her a nod and a faint smile before turning toward the private bathing courtyard.

The bathing pool is one of the few luxuries you allow yourself. Set in a secluded corner of the inner garden, surrounded by high screens and flowering jasmine vines, it is fed by heated water carried in by servants. Lanterns hang from the wooden beams overhead, casting a warm, golden glow over the rippling surface.

You sink into the pool with a low sigh of relief. The water feels impossibly soft and clean compared to the harsh, salty waves you have lived in for months. Heat seeps into your tired muscles as you lean back against the smooth stone edge, closing your eyes for a moment. The night is quiet except for the gentle lap of water and the distant chirping of insects.

Then, from the corner of your eye, you catch a shadow moving near the edge of the lantern light. Your body reacts instantly. Your hand shoots out toward the knife you had placed beside your folded clothes on the low bench behind you.

Before your fingers can close around the hilt, the shadow steps fully into the light.

It is Tzuyu.

She stands at the edge of the pool, wearing a simple but elegant white inner robe that clings lightly to her figure. Her long hair is loosely tied, a few strands framing her face. She looks slightly more confident than usual. Shoulders straighter, chin lifted just a fraction higher. The change is subtle, but you notice it immediately.

You relax your hand and let it fall back into the water.

Tzuyu has always been quiet and reserved, but right now you cannot help wondering if she has schemed something while you were away. The letter from her parents three months ago still lingers in your memory. The polite but clear urging to get their daughter pregnant. If Tzuyu takes after them at all, she might be here with similar intentions. Yet, just like Xinyu, you can never quite tell with her. Is this quiet confidence a calculated move, or simply her natural grace?

She hesitates at the edge of the pool, fingers lightly twisting the sash of her robe. You watch her in silence, already expecting what is coming. Tzuyu finally meets your gaze.

“My lord… would you allow me the honor of your company?”

She takes one graceful step closer.

“After all, a man of your status should not have to wash himself alone.”

She stands there, waiting, the lantern light casting a gentle glow on her skin and making her eyes shine with quiet expectation. You lean back against the smooth stone edge of the pool, the warm water lapping gently at your chest.

“You don’t have to be so formal when we’re alone, Tzuyu.”

Tzuyu lowers her gaze for a moment, a faint blush touching her cheeks.

“I’m sorry, my lord.”

Then, after a small pause, she adds, almost shyly:

“Since we are alone… it should be fine if I join you in the water.”

You don’t answer right away. You simply watch her. Tzuyu takes your silence as invitation. She reaches for the sash of her white inner robe. With slow, teasing movements she unties it, letting the fabric part. Your breath catches as she begins to undress right there on the other side of the pool. The robe slides off her shoulders first, revealing the elegant line of her collarbones and the gentle swell of her breasts. She continues, letting the silk glide down her body like water, exposing the smooth curve of her waist, the flare of her hips, and the long, graceful length of her legs. Finally, the robe pools at her feet, leaving her completely naked.

You have never seen Tzuyu like this before. Fully bare, standing at a distance where you can take in every inch of her at once. In the dim lantern light of her chambers, it was always darker, closer, more intimate. Here, under the warm glow of the lanterns, she looks almost unreal: tall, slender, perfectly proportioned, with smooth pale skin and long black hair cascading down her back. Her breasts are full and firm, nipples already slightly hardened by the night air. Her waist is narrow, hips gently curved, and between her thighs you can see the delicate line of her pussy.

Tzuyu seems a little shy under your undivided stare. She shifts her weight slightly, one hand instinctively moving to cover herself before she catches the motion and lowers it again. But there’s also a quiet pleasure in her eyes, as if she enjoys the way you’re looking at her. She steps slowly into the pool. The water ripples around her ankles, then her calves, then her thighs as she wades toward you. When she finally stands directly in front of you, the water reaching just below her breasts, she hesitates for only a heartbeat. Then she leans in carefully, giving you time to pull away if you wish.

Her lips meet yours in a soft, tentative kiss. You respond naturally. Your hands rise from the water and find her naked body, roaming slowly over her wet skin, tracing the curve of her waist, sliding up to cup her breasts, thumbs brushing over her nipples. She trembles slightly under your touch.

When she finally draws away just enough to look at you, you are too relaxed after the long campaign to take charge. You simply watch her, hands still resting on her hips under the water. Tzuyu’s cheeks are faintly pink. She moves closer, carefully straddling your lap beneath the surface. You feel the heat of her body even through the warm water. Your now hard cock presses against her tight, flat tummy as she settles on top of you.

You let out a low chuckle.

“You said you’d wash me.”

Your voice is rough with amusement and growing desire.

“Not pleasure me.”

Tzuyu’s blush deepens, but she doesn’t look away.

“Can’t I do both?”

The warm water laps gently around your bodies. Lantern light flickers across her wet skin. She is beautiful, elegant, and clearly offering herself to you after three long months apart. You lean back against the edge of the pool, the warm water lapping at your shoulders, and give her a slow smile.

“I’m sure you can do both.”

Tzuyu’s lips curve into a gentle, pleased smile.

“Then I will try my best, my lord.”

Her hand slips beneath the water. You feel her slender fingers wrap around your hard cock, stroking you slowly from base to tip. The sensation is smooth and teasing in the warm water.

“I’ll start with this.”

You rest your arms along the stone edge and watch her. Tzuyu’s naked upper body is beautiful in the lantern light. The elegant curve of her shoulders, the full swell of her breasts with water droplets sliding down them, the graceful line of her neck…She keeps her eyes on you as she strokes, her touch growing a little firmer, a little more confident with every pass.

After a few moments, Tzuyu rises slightly on her knees. She positions herself over you, one hand still guiding your cock. Then she slowly lowers herself. You watch her face closely. Pleasure washes over her features the moment the head of your cock parts her folds. Her lips part in a soft gasp. Her brows furrow slightly as she sinks down. Her eyes flutter half-closed, and a quiet, trembling moan escapes her. It’s clear she has been just as eager for this as you have been for her. Three long months apart have left her hungry too.

You feel every inch as her tight, silky pussy lips glide down your length, enveloping you slowly, warmly and completely. She is wetter than the pool water, her inner walls clinging to you with familiar perfection.

Tzuyu is not like Shuhua. She prefers it slower, especially when she’s on top. She begins to move with graceful rolls of her hips, grinding down deeply, then lifting and bouncing in a smooth, controlled rhythm. Her hands rest on your chest for balance as she rides you, doing her best to make your head roll back with every motion.

For several long minutes she works you like this: slow, deep grinds mixed with gentle bounces, her breasts swaying softly with the movement. The water ripples around your joined bodies in steady waves. Tzuyu’s breathing grows heavier, her quiet moans filling the night air. Then she leans down, pressing her wet breasts against your chest. Her lips brush your ear.

“My lord…”

She breathes, still moving on you.

“I think… I am with child.”

The words hit you like a quiet thunderclap. She continues riding you slowly as she speaks, her voice trembling with both pleasure and nervousness.

“All the signs are there. The missed courses, the tenderness, the way my body feels different… but I haven’t told anyone yet. Not even the physician. I wanted you to know first.”

Tzuyu pulls back just enough to look into your eyes, still gently rolling her hips, your cock buried deep inside her. She searches your face, waiting for your reaction while her body keeps moving on you with that same graceful, needy rhythm.

The night is quiet as Nien stands just outside the kitchen courtyard, hands clasped in front of her peach-colored robe. She had been waiting patiently for several minutes when the two maids finally emerge, carrying a lacquered tray with warm congee, steamed buns, pickled vegetables, and a pot of fragrant tea. Exactly what Xinyu had ordered for you.

Nien steps forward with a bright, innocent smile.

“Let me take that to the General.”

She offers sweetly.

“He must be very tired after such a long journey. I would be happy to bring it to him.”

The maids exchange a quick glance, but they know better than to refuse one of the master’s concubines. They hand over the tray without argument.

“Thank you.”

Nien says cheerfully, balancing the tray carefully as she turns and heads toward the private bathing courtyard. She knows exactly where you are. The lanterns glowing softly in that direction are impossible to miss.

The garden paths are dimly lit, the night air cool and filled with the scent of jasmine. Nien walks quickly but gracefully, her mind already imagining the your tired smile when she arrives with food. She rounds a corner near the moon gate…

… and nearly collides with Shuhua.

Both women stop short. The tray wobbles dangerously in Nien’s hands. A few drops of tea splash over the edge. Shuhua startles, stepping back with a sharp intake of breath, her vibrant green robe swirling around her legs.

“Nien!”

Shuhua hisses.

“Shuhua!”

Nien replies, steadying the tray with both hands. Her usual bright tone carries a hint of surprise and wariness.

For a moment they simply stare at each other in the half dark. They don’t hate each other - there has never been open hostility between any of the three concubines - but Nien has always found Shuhua suspicious, and Shuhua clearly feels the same about the overly cheerful youngest.

Shuhua crosses her arms, one eyebrow raised.

“Going to the bathing courtyard? With food? How thoughtful of you.”

Nien tilts her head, still smiling but with a sharper edge.

“Xinyu asked me to bring it. The General needs to eat after his long journey. Why are you heading in that direction so late?”

Shuhua lets out a short, scoffing laugh.

“Don’t play innocent. You’re trying to get to him first.”

“And you aren’t?”

Nien shoots back, voice still light but now clearly defensive.

“You’ve been waiting for him to return just as much as I have. Don’t pretend you were just taking a midnight stroll.”

Shuhua steps closer.

“At least I’m honest about wanting his attention. You act all sweet and harmless, but we both know why you’re really bringing him food at this hour.”

Nien’s cheeks flush, but she doesn’t back down.

“And you act all bold and fiery, but you’re doing the exact same thing. We’re both trying to gain his favor tonight. There’s no point in denying it.”

A tense silence stretches between them. The tray remains steady in Nien’s hands, but the air crackles with mutual suspicion.

Finally, Shuhua lets out a sigh and rolls her eyes.

“Fine. We both want to see him. There’s no use fighting over it right now.”

Nien nods, her bright smile returning, though it’s a little tighter than usual.

“Exactly. So… shall we go together?”

Shuhua hesitates for half a second, then gives a small, reluctant nod.

“Together. But don’t think this means I’m sharing nicely.”

The two women fall into step side by side, heading toward the glowing lanterns of the bathing courtyard. Nien carefully balances the tray while Shuhua walks with her usual confident stride. The rivalry simmers just beneath the surface, but for now, they have reached an uneasy truce. As they approach the entrance to the private bathing area, both can see the warm light spilling out and hear the faint sound of water rippling.

Nien and Shuhua step quietly into the bathing courtyard together, the tray of food balanced carefully in Nien’s hands. They both stop dead in their tracks the moment they see what is happening in the pool. Tzuyu is in your lap, facing you, her long bare back and elegant shoulders glowing in the lantern light. Her hips move in slow, graceful rolls as she rides you. The water ripples gently around your joined bodies. From behind, they can see the elegant line of her spine, the way her muscles flex and shift with every movement, and the subtle bounce of her long black hair.

Tzuyu lets out a soft, needy moan.

“More… please, my lord…”

Shuhua’s expression instantly darkens. Her jaw tightens and her eyes flash with fury. She crosses her arms tightly over her chest, practically vibrating with irritation.

“Tzuyu is such a slut.”

She hisses under her breath, loud enough for Nien to hear. Nien bites her tongue hard to stop herself from snapping back that Shuhua is easily the biggest slut in the entire household. Instead, she feels a quiet wave of sadness wash over her. She isn’t really angry, just disappointed. She had hoped to have you to herself tonight, even if only for a little while. Now she will only get a third of your attention.

While Shuhua is still fuming, Nien sets the tray of food down on a nearby stone bench without a word. She doesn’t want to fall behind. Shuhua makes the decision first. Without saying anything else, she starts pulling off her robe, letting it drop carelessly to the ground. Her naked body is revealed in the lantern light: bold curves, smooth skin, and an unmistakable air of confidence. Nien quickly follows her example. She unties her peach robe and shrugs it off, stepping out of the silk puddle at her feet. Her own body is softer and more delicate than Shuhua’s, but no less beautiful.

Both women move toward the pool together. They step carefully into the warm water, the liquid rising around their legs, then their thighs, then their hips. The ripples they create spread outward, disturbing the calm surface.

Tzuyu is still riding you slowly when the sound of their movement reaches her. She doesn’t stop, but her head turns slightly, eyes widening as she notices the two new arrivals. Shuhua and Nien wade closer until they are only a few steps away from where Tzuyu sits impaled on your cock. The air in the bathing courtyard grows thick with tension, jealousy, and unspoken competition. Tzuyu’s hips continue their gentle, graceful motion as she looks at the other two women, a faint blush on her cheeks. Shuhua stops with her hands on her hips, water lapping at her waist, and stares directly at you with a challenging glint in her eyes. Nien stands beside her, quieter, her expression a mix of envy and shy hope as she watches Tzuyu’s flawless back and the way her body moves on you.

You notice the movement at the edge of the pool and lift your gaze. Nien and Shuhua stand there, both completely naked, the warm lantern light dancing across their wet skin. Shuhua’s body is bold and curvaceous, perky breasts and strong hips cutting through the surface. Nien’s figure is softer, more delicate, her skin glowing with that same innocent charm she always carries.

The moment you see them, your cock twitches hard inside Tzuyu. Tzuyu feels it immediately. Her walls flutter around you in response, and she lets out a tiny, surprised gasp, her hips stuttering for a second before she continues her slow ride.

You can’t help it. An amused chuckle escapes your throat.

Tzuyu’s cheeks flush deeper as she realizes the other two are watching her ride you so openly. Shuhua’s usual confident smirk falters for half a heartbeat, replaced by a flicker of awkwardness. Nien’s bright eyes widen, her hands instinctively moving to cover her chest before she catches herself and lowers them again. They’ve never seen each other fully naked like this. The usual private intimacy of the bedchambers has suddenly become very public. None of them quite know how to act now that they are all together in the same pool. You feel a brief moment of uncertainty yourself. Three naked, beautiful concubines surrounding you after three long months away is almost overwhelming.

You motion with your head.

“Shuhua. Left side.”

You turn slightly and gesture to the other side.

“Nien. Right.”

Shuhua moves first, wading through the water with that bold stride until she’s pressed against your left side. Nien follows more shyly, slipping into the water on your right until her soft body brushes against you. The moment they settle, Tzuyu - clearly not willing to lose her place on your cock - starts putting in more effort. Her hips roll deeper, grinding down harder, her tight pussy squeezing around you with renewed determination. Her breathing grows heavier as she rides you more purposefully. You reach out with your left hand and grope Shuhua’s perky tits, squeezing the firm flesh and rolling her nipple between your fingers. Shuhua lets out a sharp, pleased breath and arches into your touch. At the same time, you pull Nien closer with your right arm, tilting her chin up so you can claim her mouth in a deep, hungry kiss. She melts into it instantly, her soft lips parting for you, a tiny whimper vibrating against your tongue. While you kiss Nien and fondle Shuhua, Tzuyu continues riding you steadily, her long legs flexing under the water as she works herself on your cock.

In the back of your mind, the news Tzuyu whispered earlier still burns. The possibility that she is already carrying your child. The thought sends another throb through your length, making Tzuyu moan softly.

You hope Xinyu doesn’t mind you indulging a little tonight. After three months away, and with her own belly growing heavier by the day, she might even understand. For now, you focus on the three women surrounding you. Shuhua presses her breasts more firmly into your groping hand, her usual bratty energy already starting to surface again. Nien kisses you back sweetly, her smaller hand resting shyly on your chest. Tzuyu keeps riding you with quiet determination, clearly trying to remind everyone that she was here first.

The warm water laps around all four of you as the night air grows thicker with tension and desire.

The morning sun beats down on the training ground, turning the dirt courtyard into a haze of dust and heat. You move through the forms, wooden practice sword clashing against your partner’s in sharp, rhythmic strikes. Sweat runs down your bare chest and back, soaking the waistband of your trousers. Your breathing is heavy, muscles burning after weeks of pushing yourself hard since returning from the campaign. You parry a strong overhead blow, then counter with a low sweep that forces your opponent to jump back. The soldiers watching from the sidelines murmur in approval.

Just as you reset your stance for another exchange, you catch sight of a servant hurrying across the edge of the training ground. The man is moving quickly, his face tense. You raise your hand and step back, lowering your sword.

“Enough for now.”

You tell your practice partner, who bows and retreats. You wipe sweat from your brow with the back of your arm and motion the servant closer. He approaches, bowing deeply the moment he’s within speaking distance.

“General, Lady Xinyu… she has gone into labour.”

You straighten immediately, chest still heaving from the exertion. Sweat continues to trickle down your temples, but the fatigue in your muscles is forgotten in an instant.

“When?”

“Just now, my lord. The midwife and her maids are with her. Lady Xinyu asked that you be informed right away.”

You nod once, already turning toward the inner quarters.

“Prepare hot water and clean cloths if they haven’t already.”

You order as you start walking.

“And send word to the physician if he isn’t there yet.”

The servant bows again and hurries off to carry out your commands.

You stride across the courtyard, practice sword still in hand, sweat cooling on your skin in the morning breeze. The training ground and your soldiers fade behind you as your focus narrows entirely to Xinyu’s pavilion. Your mind races with a mix of anticipation and concern. Xinyu’s belly had grown significantly. The child - the one she has been so certain is a son - is finally coming.

As you pass through the moon gate into the women’s quarters, you can already hear faint activity ahead: maids moving quickly, low voices, and the occasional strained sound that might be Xinyu.

The three concubines are nowhere in sight yet, but you know they will learn of this soon enough. The news will spread through the household like wildfire.

You reach the entrance to Xinyu’s chambers. The heavy silk curtains have been pulled back, and several maids hover nervously just outside.

One of them bows deeply when she sees you.

“General… Lady Xinyu is in her bed. The pains have started strongly. The midwife says it is progressing well, but it may take some time.”

You hand your practice sword to the nearest servant without a word and step inside.

The room is warm, scented with medicinal herbs and incense meant to ease the birth. Xinyu lies propped up on the large bed, her face flushed and damp with sweat. Her crimson robe is loosened and pushed up, her swollen belly clearly visible and tight with another contraction. She grips the sheets tightly, breathing through the pain with determined focus.

When she sees you enter, her eyes soften despite the discomfort.

“My lord…You came quickly.”

You move to her side, taking her hand in yours. Her fingers are surprisingly strong as they squeeze yours during the next wave of pain. The midwife, an experienced older woman, kneels nearby, quietly giving instructions to the assisting maids.

Xinyu looks up at you, her free hand resting protectively on her belly.

“It is time. Our child is coming.”

Outside the chamber, you can already hear hurried footsteps, the news spreading fast through the estate. The three concubines will likely arrive soon, drawn by the commotion and the weight of what this birth could mean for all of them.

“Mhmm,” Gaeul says, walking in with quiet footsteps. “Just had the 2026 Reading Korea event done.”

“Wanna watch TV? Or maybe play some games?

She shakes her head with a gentle smile. “I just want to read a little and unwind.”

“Then come here first,” I say, patting my lap. “Let’s get that overdue ear cleaning appointment done today while you read. You deserve to relax from all the chaos.”

Gaeul sets her bag down by the kitchen counter and walks towards me, settling comfortably as she rests her head on my lap. Book in her hand and the ear cleaning kit in mine, I thread my fingers through her dark, smooth hair that’s spilt across my thighs like ink, gathering it to the side to expose her ear. With a slight shift of her head to get herself in position, she opens Scythe and starts reading aloud in her soft, steady voice.

I open the box and take out the ear pick, starting slowly and carefully to trace the soft flesh of her outer ear with the cool metal end of the ear pick, before sliding in with careful scrapes.

Working gently, I clear away the invisible weight of her endless practices, stages, cameras and judgmental stares. Each drag triggering a small shiver of pleasure, each curl drawing a soft moan of approval. Between strokes, my free hand brushes the stray strands of hair from her temple, swaying softly from the cool breeze of the air-conditioning.

“This line here is pretty nice,” she says, turning up slightly to look at me when I lift the ear pick off for a brief clean.

I look down at her glassy eyes.

“You’ve been blooming so beautifully,” I murmur, sliding the pick back in. “Aphrodite with your lovely pink hair, Persephone with jet black… The world is finally seeing how radiant you always have been. But right now, you don't have to shine for anyone.” I rub my thumb across her cheek, leaning down to plant a kiss on her forehead.

“Just stay right here with me.”

“If you keep saying sweet things while digging my ears, I really won't be able to finish this chapter,” she chuckles softly, cheeks pink from my affection.

I swap sides to work on her other ear, making sure to be as tender and as loving as possible, removing the weight of her burdens and worries that’s clouding her. The room is soon replaced with deep and calm breathing, her body melting and relaxing further into my lap as the gentle cleaning continues. The silent intimacy wraps arounds both of us like soft silk.

No spotlight, no pressure. Just the soft sound of the metal against skin, her calm presence, and the occasional turn of a page.

When I’m done, I gently tap her shoulder after setting the tool aside.

“All done~” I whisper.

Gaeul closes the book with a contented sigh and turns her head to look up at me.

“All clean. I’ll go shower now—”

“Wait.” Her fingers catch my wrist. “Let me do yours too. It's only fair.”

“No need, baby. You should get some rest—”

Greeted with her insistent pout, I give out a sigh of reluctant defeat. She shifts and guides my head into her lap, mirroring my actions from before, cradling me like a baby between the warmth of her thighs.

“You feel nice,” I mumble, snuggling into her.

With focused care, Gaeul picks up the other pair of ear picks and begins to clean my ears. Free hand threading lightly through my hair, her hands dance across my face softly like she’s playing pianississimo on a piano.

“Read to me?”

I pick up the book and continue from where she left off, feeling her gentle, loving scrapes that sends small waves of comfort through me. With each passing second, the words linger in the soft lamplight, letting them settle between us, seeping into our hearts.

“Love remained mortal, while we became eternal.” I read, turning a page.

Hearing the words, her movements grow even gentler, as though she is savouring this small, shared moment as much as I am. She hums a small approval at the words, pondering deeply about its meaning.

“I like that line,” she says. “Don’t you think it's fascinating? We live in a world that wants everything to be perfect for eternity, and yet real love still feels so fragile and precious, especially in the small moments.”

“I do~” I hum, closing my eyes to let her words simmer within me. “It makes me want to cherish small simple things more, like us right now, cleaning each other’s ears after a long day, listening to you read, or even just us sitting together on this couch in silence, accompanying each other.”

I set the open book against my chest and draw in a slow measured breath, letting my feelings for her come through. “Because love stays mortal and fleeting… and that's what makes it much more beautiful,” I say, turning to the next page.

Time goes by as Gaeul works on my other ear, her soft soothing hums and my steady words forming a dome of shared, sacred space around us, one that at least keeps our love for each other intact and deeply bound.

When she finally sets the tool down, I look up at her. She's smiling at me with a small, quiet affection, her fingers still threaded through my hair, thumb grazing the warm smoothness of my forehead.

I close the book and sit up, speaking the last line I have just seen like a promise I have made just for her and her alone.

“We are imperfect beings, and perfection is not our goal.”

Resting my forehead gently onto hers, I cup her cheeks on both sides and whisper into her mouth.

Whether to go should have been simple.

Every sensible reason pointed in one direction.

Don’t go.

Don’t stand in a room dressed for celebration while your chest caves in quietly beneath rented lighting and floral arrangements. 

Don't watch Mayu walk toward a future you once built in daydreams.

Don't shake hands with the man who was brave in all the places you had been careful.

Don't become a witness to the fruit of your own absence.

The logic was there, you didn't need to think twice.

Yet grief rarely respects logic.

Because another voice kept answering.

Go because she asked you once, long before any of this, if you would be there when it mattered.

Go because you had spent years loving her in silence, and silence had already cost enough.

Go because some part of you still wanted one final look, even if it ruined you.

You hated that voice most of all.

At night, you lay awake replaying the scene in your apartment with the obsessive cruelty memory reserves for fresh wounds. Her standing by the window. Her saying she loved you. Her saying it too late.

You revisited every expression, every pause, as if somewhere inside them there might be a version of events that ended differently.

But there was none.

Some mornings, your anger made the decision for you.

You would stare at the invitation and think, absolutely not.

Let her marry without your blessing. Let her wonder if you stayed away because you hated her. Let your absence speak where words have failed.

By afternoon, the anger thinned.

Then came the tenderness that was equally unhelpful.

You would remember her laughing in your apartment over that old DVD. The way she straightened the photograph before setting it back. The tremor in her voice when she said she had loved you badly.

And suddenly not going felt less like a choice and more like another unfinished what-if between you.

So the days kept passing, and the answer kept changing.

You tried to imagine each version of yourself.

The man who stayed home, who muted his phone and endured the day by refusing to know what time vows were exchanged.

The man who attended, smiled politely, applauded at the right moments, and died in small invisible ways throughout the reception.

Neither looked admirable. Both looked tired.

By the week’s end, the invitation was bent at one corner from being handled too often.

You sat at your kitchen table with it in your hands and understood something bitterly simple.

There had never been an easy answer.

A thought came to you with the kind of clarity that only arrives after days of thinking of every other possibility.

Maybe this was how moving on began.

Not with speeches, not with sudden strength nor promises and not with waking up one morning mysteriously healed.

You had spent too long living inside alternate versions of your life. Worlds where you confessed sooner. Worlds where she chose differently. Worlds where timing was useful for once. Worlds where one brave sentence from either of you changed everything that followed.

You had built entire memories from ifs.

If you had spoken in university.

If you had kissed her that night after the festival.

If you had stopped answering her calls.

If she had been honest.

If you had been less careful.

If love had ever been enough on its own.

Those versions of life had kept you company, but they had also kept you where you were.

As long as possibility remained hidden, some part of you would keep feeding it, keep polishing it, keep returning to it when the real world felt too much.

Maybe the only way forward was to watch the door close with your own eyes.

To see her walk toward someone else under full light, with witnesses, with vows, with music, with all the ceremony required to kill a daydream properly.

To stand there and know, finally, that no hidden chapter was waiting after this one because grief thrives in uncertainty, it grows in hesitation, unanswered questions, and in things that almost were.

Truth, even the brutal truth, was a pill that was difficult to swallow yet you still could.

You looked down at the invitation in your hands.

The corner was creased. Your thumb had worn a faint softness into the paper from holding it too often.

Maybe this was evidence.

Evidence that something real had existed, even if it had never become what you wanted. Evidence that you had loved deeply enough to be broken by it. Evidence that life does not always reward sincerity, but that sincerity still counts for something.

You exhaled slowly.

Maybe going would destroy the last of your hope.

Maybe that was exactly what hope had become, something that needed ending.

You imagined yourself there. Watching her smile. Watching her choose. Feeling something in you collapse and, afterward, realizing you were still standing.

That possibility felt almost merciful.

Because if you could survive the worst version of it, then everything after might finally become peaceful.

No more rehearsing confessions to an empty room.

No more checking your phone when it buzzed.

No more treating the past with regret.

Eventually it'll only be silence, plain and clean, instead of pain mixed with imagination.

You set the invitation on the table and stared at it for a long time.

Then you reached for your phone and checked the ceremony time again.

Not to make a decision.

But because you already had one.

You arrived in front of the hall an hour early before the main event started.

From the back seat of the taxi, you watched the entrance through the tinted window.

Guests were already arriving in small groups. Men adjusted their cuffs and coat hems before stepping out of cars. Women smoothed dresses at the waist, checked lipstick in compact mirrors, lifted skirts over puddles that weren't there.

Older relatives moved slower, carrying envelopes. Younger couples arrived holding hands until they reached the doors, then separated just enough to look formal again.

At a table near the entrance, two attendants smiled as people signed the guest book, pens passing from hand to hand. Cards were placed into a polished box. 

Then everyone disappeared inside.

You stayed where you were.

The driver glanced at you once in the mirror, then wisely chose to not say anything.

The air conditioner hummed softly. Somewhere on the radio, a song played low enough to not be a bother. 

You looked down at your hands.

They were steady, which felt insulting.

Outside, another taxi pulled up. A laughing group of friends got out, one of them carrying a bouquet wrapped in pale paper. Someone nearly forgot a gift bag and had to run back for it. Their laughter rang briefly across the curb before the doors swallowed it.

You wondered what it must feel like to arrive happy.

Your gaze lifted to the hall again.

White flowers framed the entrance, the same ones she picked. Gold lettering displayed the couple’s names on a polished board with her name beside his. 

You looked away.

There was still time to tell the driver to leave.

You imagined giving an address at random, going home, taking off the suit and spending the afternoon face down in bed while somewhere across the city vows were exchanged without your witness.

Part of you wanted the easy way out.

Another part knew you had not come this far for mercy.

A staff member opened the main doors wider as more guests arrived. Through the gap, you caught a glimpse of warm light, floral arrangements, people moving inside like figures in another life.

The driver cleared his throat gently.

“Sir,” he said, “are you getting out?”

You stared at the entrance a moment longer.

Then you reached for the handle.

You stepped outside, and the city met you with its usual self, traffic continued, a bus sighed to a stop at the curb, someone across the street laughed into a phone call that had nothing to do with you.

The sky remained bright, untroubled. It was almost mocking you with how ordinary the world could stay on the day you were asking it to witness something private and catastrophic.

You paid the driver, thanked him out of habit, and closed the door.

Then you crossed the road.

The suit jacket sat neatly on your shoulders, your shoes clicked against stone with more confidence than you felt. 

By the time you reached the steps, another couple had fallen into pace beside you. They were talking quietly about table numbers. You let them pass first, grateful for the cover of strangers.

At the top, the attendants turned to you with the same polished warmth they had offered everyone else.

“Welcome,” one of them said with a practiced smile. “Thank you for coming.”

You nodded.

The other gestured toward the guest book table.

“Please sign in here, sir.”

The pen felt oddly heavy in your hand.

Rows of names already filled the pages. Friends, relatives, colleagues, people who belonged cleanly to this day. You searched for an empty line longer than necessary, then wrote your name in careful strokes.

“I'm glad you could make it.” You looked up, placing the pen on the guest book.

Rin approached you from the entrance, standing clean and confidently in the suit he was about to be wedded in.

You gathered enough will to etch on a believable smile as you reached and shook his hand.

“I told her I was going,” you replied. “I wasn't really planning on missing a big day.” 

Liar.

Up close, he looked exactly as he always had whenever you had briefly met him before, put together, honest, easy in his own skin. There was a hint of nervousness there too, but it was the softest kind, the nerves of someone about to promise forever, not the nerves of someone watching forever happen to someone else. 

“Looking good,” he said, glancing at your suit.

For one dangerous second, you nearly told him she picked it.

Instead, you said, “Thanks.”

Rin adjusted his cuff absentmindedly, then looked back toward the hall doors where staff moved in quick, purposeful lines.

“Everything’s a blur today,” he admitted. “I thought I’d be calm, but apparently my body disagrees.”

“You seem calm enough.”

“Outside, I’m trying to be calm.” He smiled. “Inside, I’m a nervous wreck.”

You nodded as if that were funny.

Part of you hated him for being kind.

Choosing to be cruel would have been easier and choosing to be arrogant would have been useful. If he had been smug or shallow or unattentive, you could have built an enemy out of him and carried that into the ceremony.

Instead, he was nothing else but a man in love.

Which made your loss feel less like robbery and more like failure.

Rin glanced at the guest book, then back at you.

“Mayu should still be in her dressing room.”

You snapped your head almost immediately before looking away again.

“Oh yeah?” you shrugged as you tried to keep anything from slipping. “I mean, she should be. The ceremony doesn’t start until an hour from now.”

“Would you like to see her?”

Your mind lurched in opposite directions at once.

No.

Yes.

Absolutely not.

More than anything.

You looked past him toward the hallway beyond the entrance where staff moved briskly in and around the place, where somewhere behind closed doors Mayu was preparing to be a bride in layers of silk, powder, nerves, and jewelry.

You imagined her seated before a mirror while hands adjusted her veil. Imagined her laughing too brightly to hide her nervousness. Imagined her alone for one brief second between preparations, staring at herself as if asking whether reflection counted as consent.

“I don’t want to interrupt,” you said.

“You won’t be interrupting anything.” Rin’s smile held no suspicion, only warmth. “She’s been looking for you since she got here.”

That sentence struck harder than it should have.

Even now, even here, she was reaching backward while stepping forward.

You swallowed.

“I’m sure she has enough on her mind.”

“She does,” he said lightly. “Which is why seeing a good friend might help.”

You almost declined again. You should have. There was still dignity available in small portions far from this.

Rin gestured toward a side corridor. “Come on. I’ll walk you there.”

You followed before common sense could catch up.

The hallway behind the main lobby was quieter, carpeted thick enough to muffle footsteps. The noise of arriving guests faded behind closed doors, replaced by distant voices, the rustle of fabric, a burst of laughter from some unseen room, then silence again.

Framed photographs of flowers lined the walls and everything smelled faintly of perfume and the specific smell of polished wood.

Rin walked beside you with the relaxed pace he always had.

He stopped in front of a door, “I’ll leave you here. I’m afraid the groom can’t see the bride before the wedding starts.” he says with an easy grin, tapping the door once with the back of his knuckles.

“Apparently I’m only allowed to ruin tradition after the ceremony,” he added.

You managed something that resembled a smile.

Rin rested a hand briefly on your shoulder, the gesture casual and sincere enough to be unbearable.

“Thanks for coming,” he said. “Really.”

He turned and walked back down the corridor, one hand slipping into his pocket, already being called by someone halfway down the hall.

You watched him go.

For a moment, you considered leaving.

The door stood in front of you, ordinary as any other door in any other building. Your hand slowly reached out as the same voice told you to walk away, to run, to keep distance and call it respect.

For once, you didn’t listen. Your hand held the knob and turned it to click open. 

The room beyond blinded you with light.

Not brightly in the harsh sense, but golden, softened by bulbs circling a long mirror and the divided daylight slipping through half-drawn curtains. The air carried the mixed smell of sweet perfume, strong hairspray, and fresh flowers.

It wasn’t long before you saw her.

Mayu was sitting in front of her mirror, hands intertwining on her lap with her thumbs tapping against one another— something subtle she did when she was nervous.

For a second, you didn’t move.

You just stood there, half inside the room, as if stepping any farther would push you to run away.

Mayu’s eyes met yours through the mirror.

Her hands stilled.

The small, restless movement of her thumbs stopped like it had been caught mid-thought.

She turned, slowly, carefully, as if even that needed to be done right today.

For a second that stretched longer than it should’ve, neither of you said anything.

“Hey.” you broke the silence first, raising a hand before being unsure what to do with it.

“You came.” her voice wasn’t loud, but it crossed the room anyway.

“I said I would, didn’t I?” you closed the door behind you.

Her eyes grazed over your suit, “You wore it.”

“You picked it for me.” you walked closer, taking each step with intent of not breaking in front of her.

“I didn’t think you would listen.”

“I don’t, usually.”

A faint smile touched her lips but it didn’t stay long.

The silence that followed wasn’t empty. It pressed in from all sides, filled with everything you hadn’t said in your apartment, everything she had said too late.

Mayu stood.

She moved carefully, gathering a small part of her dress as she stepped toward you, the fabric sweeping softly against the floor.

“I came here to watch you get married,” you said then added right after, “And to apologize.”

Mayu’s lips opened, as if she was about to object but you spoke again.

“I meant what I said back then but I didn’t mean to raise my voice at you, I didn’t mean to scare you away.”

Mayu stared at you as if the apology had arrived in the wrong language.

For a moment, she only blinked then she shook her head once, small and immediate.

“No.” The word came out soft, but certain. “You shouldn’t apologize for that.”

“I want to.” 

“You should just be angry at me because you have every right to be.” Her voice trembled on the last word.

You looked away first, toward the table cluttered with brushes, pins, a lipstick left uncapped. 

“I still shouldn’t have spoken to you like that.”

Mayu stepped closer, the hem of her dress whispered over the floor.

“You think you scared me?” she asked quietly.

“You walked out.” You met her eyes again.

“I walked out because you were right.” She drew in a breath, thinking of her words.

“I left because for the first time, I heard what I had done from your side. Not the version I told myself. Not the softer one where I was confused, or overwhelmed, or unlucky.” Her fingers tightened around the folds of her skirt. “The real version.”

You said nothing.

Because there was nothing to defend.

Because truth had already done its work.

“I went home,” she continued, “and I sat on the floor in my apartment and cried for the next hour.”

Despite everything, the image of her nearly loosened you.

“I kept hearing you say I took years from you.” her eyes filled again, though her tone stayed the same. “And I hated that it was true.”

“I didn’t come here to make you cry before your wedding.” You swallowed.

“Too late now.” a weak laugh escaped her.

You looked at her properly then, at the careful makeup that hid the bags under her eyes, at the pearls at her throat, at the veil waiting behind her like a door she was ready to go through.

“You look beautiful,” you said, the words slipped out before pride could stop it.

“W—what?” Mayu’s breath caught.

“I remember you asking how you looked with the dress,” you smiled, despite the moment. “I just figured out what to say now.” 

A sound left her that was almost a laugh and almost a sob.

“You’re unbelievable,” she said, covering her mouth for a moment as tears gathered anyway. “You wait until now?”

“I’ve never been known for timing.”

“That much is true.”

She dabbed carefully beneath one eye, trying not to disturb the work someone had spent an hour creating.

You watched her do it and thought, absurdly, that heartbreak required a surprising amount of maintenance.

When she lowered her hand, she was smiling through it. Not long after, you watched you step closer and closer until she stood in front of you.

Her arms then placed themselves around you, pulling you deeper.

For one stunned second, you did not move.

Your body forgot every instruction it had rehearsed on the way here. Keep distance. Be polite. Survive this. Leave intact.

Then instinct took over dignity.

Your arms came around her slowly, then fully.

The dress was softer than you expected, layered fabric and delicate structure beneath your hands. Beneath that, her body trembled with the effort of holding itself together.

You closed your eyes.

This was bad for you in every possible sense.

The scent of her hair, the warmth of her against you, the familiarity so immediate it passed thought entirely. Your hands remembered her before your mind could object.

Outside the room, someone laughed in the hallway.

Inside it, the world had narrowed to breath and heartbeat.

“I hate you,” she whispered into your shoulder.

You let out a soft, broken laugh.

“I doubt it.”

When Mayu pulled back, there were faint marks of her makeup on the fabric of your suit. She reached up slowly, thumb brushing them away slowly as she looked up at you.

“Thank you.” she said. “For having stuck with me for so long, for always being so reliable, for being there when you didn’t want to and for choosing me even when you were scared. And I hope someone else does the same for you, someone that’s braver.”

A smile grew on your lips then, one that was bittersweet to the taste.

A knock sounded at the door suddenly.

“Mayu? Five minutes,” a woman called cheerfully, unaware of what was happening inside.

“I should go.” you told her, still with the same smile.

Mayu’s hand caught lightly at your sleeve before you could step back.

“Wait.” The word came out small, but urgent.

You looked at her.

Her fingers loosened immediately, as if even touching you now required permission she no longer believed she had. She let her hand fall between you.

“I mean...” She swallowed. “Not yet.”

Another knock sounded, gentler this time.

“Five minutes, Mayu.”

“Fine,” she called, though her eyes never left yours.

You nodded your head at her before you turned and your steps led you to the door.

Until you turned on your heel.

She had already turned around too, half way back to the front of the mirror when she heard you from behind.

“Koma Mayu!”

You shouted, not caring for the people on the other side of the door.

She turned around, brow raised at the sudden volume of your voice in the quiet room. Seeing you smile brightly across the room despite the tears welling in your eyes, she didn’t just see the man that stood there, she saw the boy who took the fall for her in elementary, the teenager that always walked her home and the young man that had loved her for years.

“I hope you live a happy life!”

You continued, arm finding itself raised from your side with your fist balled.

Mayu almost laughed at that but she held her expression down.

Then as her eyes gleamed and shimmered against the afternoon light to look back, you shouted again,

“I love you!”

You didn’t cry as you spoke the truth that had been hidden for so long. Instead, a laugh broke through your smile and one that she shared with you.

You waved at her now, one that meant goodbye for now but also meant I'll always be here.

That was when you reached for the door again and after one last look at her, you walked out.

The ceremony started not long after.

You chose to seat with a couple of old and recognizable classmates from way back then, some still certain that it should had been you waiting at the end of the altar but you didn’t say anything to object instead you just accepted their words and said,

“I guess I wasn’t really good with timing.”

That earned you a few small, knowing laughs that didn’t quite reach anyone’s eyes.

The hall was too bright for something like honesty to hide in it. Light spilled over everything in soft gold, floral arches, polished seats, the careful arrangement of a day that had been rehearsed into perfection. Even the air felt arranged, like it had been ironed flat.

Someone beside you leaned in slightly. “Still…weird, right?”

You didn’t ask what they meant since you already knew.

So you just gave a small shrug, the kind that doesn’t invite more afterwards, and kept your eyes forward.

The music began, gentle enough to make everything feel slower than it was.

And then she appeared.

Mayu.

For a second, your mind did that infuriating thing where it tried to protect you by pretending she didn’t know you yet, the illusion broke almost immediately, because there was no version of her that could ever be ordinary again once seen like this.

She stood at the entrance of the aisle, framed by light and white flowers that looked almost unreal against her, silk moved like water around her steps. The veil softened her outline behind the cloth, made her look slightly distant, like she had already begun crossing into somewhere you couldn’t follow.

Her hands were folded carefully in front of her.

You noticed that immediately.

She walked forward, each step was measured, but not effortless. There was something contained in it, something held tightly behind her ribs that no one else in the room seemed to notice.

Except maybe you.

Maybe only you.

Her eyes didn’t immediately search the crowd.

That was the first strange thing.

Instead, she kept them forward, fixed on the end of the aisle where Rin waited.

Rin stood there in a suit that fit him like certainty. He looked steady in a way that made the entire room feel more grounded just by comparison.

When she reached him, he smiled.

He looked like someone ready to take the next step forward and then he extended his hand.

Mayu didn’t hesitate before placing hers in it.

The ceremony began.

Words were spoken.

Promises were made.

The officiant’s voice rose and fell in practiced rhythm, turning something deeply irreversible into something that sounded almost gentle.

You didn’t hear most of it. Well, not really.

When it came time for vows, Rin spoke first.

His voice was steady, warm, unshaken in the way people sound when they believe in what they’re saying without needing to survive it first. He spoke about time, about choosing someone every day, about something like certainty shaped into language.

Mayu spoke next, voice steady like his and sure of the words she was reading off of. When she joked in between them, you laughed with the crowd and didn’t feel that pang that twisted inside of your chest.

Rin smiled at her when she finished speaking. Not the relieved kind. The kind that believed he had just heard something true.

The officiant spoke again, voice lifting toward the part everyone had been waiting for.

Then the question was asked.

It was simple.

It had always been.

And yet the entire room seemed to hold its breath.

Rin spoke first.

“I do.” 

Applause flickered through the hall like a reflex before silence returned, gentler now, expectant.

All eyes turned to her.

Mayu stood there for a second longer than necessary, not enough for anyone else to notice, enough for you to feel it anyway.

Her fingers tightened faintly at her side as she spoke.

“I do.”

The room exhaled all at once, as if permission had finally been granted for everything to continue.

Someone beside you smiled. “See? Told you it was meant to be.”

You didn’t respond.

Because there wasn’t anything left in that moment that felt worth shaping into words.

The officiant continued speaking, voice smooth again, carrying the ceremony forward. Around you, the hall reacted exactly as it was supposed to. Applause softened into smiles then softened into relief that finally softened into celebration.

Rin and Mayu turned slightly toward each other as instructed, bodies aligning in practiced choreography. There was a brief pause before the next instruction, that small suspended gap where the world waits for something intimate to be made public.

Mayu’s hands remained steady.

That detail stayed with you longer than anything else.

The officiant lifted his hand slightly.

“You may now kiss the bride.”

Rin leaned in first.

The moment was gentle, deliberate, and carefully contained, like something placed down rather than taken.

The kiss was brief, not to show too much to the crowd.

The room responded instantly, applause rising like it had been waiting behind everyone’s teeth the entire time.

You clapped with them.

Beside you, someone let out a quiet laugh of satisfaction, same as the other people in the room.

Mayu pulled back after the kiss, her expression composed in the way people learn to be.

She smiled, the kind of smile that was practiced for the occasion.

Rin was smiling too.

The officiant spoke again, voice brightening as he announced them.

The hall rose gradually, chairs shifting, fabric moving, bodies preparing to transition from witnessing to participating.

You stayed seated a moment longer than most as applause continued.

Music began again, softer now, celebratory in a way that required no interpretation.

Rin and Mayu turned toward the crowd.

Hand in hand.

The beginning of something officially acknowledged.

Mayu’s gaze moved across the room again, slowly this time, as if acknowledging each section of the day she had agreed to belong to.

It passed over relatives.

Over friends.

Over rows of carefully arranged approval.

And then, for the briefest fraction of a second, it reached where you were standing.

It didn’t stop.

It didn’t linger.

But it did recognize you before moving on.

The applause did not change.

The music did not falter.

And the ceremony continued exactly as it was supposed to.

When the reception began winding down and each table was called one by one to take photographs with the newly married couple. You nearly forced yourself to leave before it was your turn.

You watched guests rise in groups, smoothing jackets, fixing hair, laughing as they made their way toward the stage where Mayu and Rin sat beneath flowers that had already begun to curl at the edges.

Every few minutes another burst of applause followed the camera shutter.

You checked your watch though you already knew the time. You reached for your coat though you had no real reason to. You considered slipping out through the side doors while everyone’s attention was elsewhere.

It would have been easy as quiet exits always are.

But each time you thought to stand, another table was called, and you remained where you were, caught between the urge to disappear and the strange obligation to stay long enough for her to see you.

Then someone over the mic called for your table.

You stood last, letting your old friends move ahead of you so their figures could become a temporary shield. They joked among themselves as they walked, unaware or kind enough to pretend they were unaware. You followed a step behind, hands in your pockets, eyes fixed somewhere near the floor.

The path to the stage felt longer than it should have.

By the time you reached it, everyone had already arranged themselves with the easy instinct of people who still belonged in one another’s lives. You took the remaining space at the edge of the group.

Mayu and Rin continued to smile as the other people huddled behind their seats.

“Sir, could you move a bit more to the center?” The photographer said, looking at your direction.

You hesitantly raised your hand and they nodded.

A few people shuffled aside to make room, someone patted your shoulder as if that made any of this simpler. You stepped forward, careful not to brush against anyone more than necessary, until you found yourself nearer the center than you had wanted.

Nearer to her than you had planned.

Mayu turned slightly when you approached. Up close, her makeup was still spotless, as if she hadn’t shed any tears during the ceremony and even before. She still looked beautiful in your eyes.

For a moment, her smile changed.

It did not disappear, but it loosened around the edges into something less public and more familiar. Something that remembered smaller rooms, ordinary afternoons, versions of both of you that no one else here had known.

“Thanks for staying,” she said softly enough that only you could hear.

You nodded once.

“Congratulations.”

The word came out clean, you were grateful for that much.

The photographer lifted his camera.

“Everyone closer, please.”

The group compressed inward. You felt Mayu’s arm brush lightly against yours as everyone adjusted for the frame.

“One more smile!”

The shutter clicked.

Then again.

And again.

When it was done, people relaxed instantly, already laughing, already stepping away, already moving toward the next part of the evening.

Mayu looked at you one last time.

There were a thousand things neither of you said, and perhaps that was enough.

“Take care,” she said.

“You too.”

Then someone called her name. Rin leaned in to answer another guest. A cousin tugged at her sleeve for another picture. The current of celebration reclaimed her without resistance.

You stepped down from the stage.

By the time the next table was being called, you were already walking toward the exit. Before you walked out, you excused yourself with reasons everyone pretended to believe, though the truth was simpler than any of them would have admitted. You had already seen everything you came there to see. 

The air outside felt different, much colder than the air inside. 

You stood at the curb for a moment longer than necessary, as though waiting for your body to catch up with the decision your mind had made minutes ago. Then you raised a hand.

A taxi slowed to the curb. You stepped inside.

The driver asked nothing at first, only a brief glance through the mirror.

You gave him your address, your voice spilling out steady enough to pass for ordinary.

As the car pulled away, the wedding hall receded behind traffic and distance, back into the city.

Streetlights passed in predictable turns across the window, people crossed intersections with groceries, umbrellas, conversations, all the small things of life that were still in motion. No one paused for what had ended inside you an hour earlier.

And the world continued whether you liked it or not.

-

Months passed after that.

You lived in a smaller, quieter version of life. One that asked little of you and, in return, offered to be as predictable as it could be.

Days returned to normalcy, though dimmer at some points, as if something that used to be there had been removed from the room. Work filled the hours in tidy portions. Meals happened when they were meant to happen and nights arrived without much struggle and left the same way.

Mayu remained absent from all of it.

Sometimes your phone would light up and your hand would pause for half a second, an old reflex refusing to change.

But it was never her name.

Eventually even that instinct learned to move on.

You told yourself this was what it was supposed to look like.

It wasn’t supposed to feel like triumph and you weren’t supposed to be healed overnight. Moving on was just the slow return of ordinary things.

And you start to regain the years you had lost, with newer experiences and newer memories that took space in your mind with other people.

-

One afternoon, you found yourself entering the same bakery she brought you along to but without her memories lingering in the air. Warmth wrapped around you immediately, carrying sugar, butter, and something faintly floral from the baked goods cooling behind glass. 

The same display case. The same handwritten labels. The same neat rows of pastries were arranged like they had always been waiting for someone to choose carefully.

You approached the counter.

“How may I help you?” The attendant looked up with a practiced smile.

“Um, I was actually looking for a slice that I saw months ago. I’m not sure if it’s still available.”

“What was it?” They asked.

“The Gateau Debord? I think that was how you say it.” you chuckled, embarrassed by your own interpretation.

“Ah, I’m sorry. I’m afraid we just ran out.” The attendant replied.

You nodded in understanding when you heard rustling coming from the back then someone else walked out.

The same girl that had told you about the cake months ago.

She stepped out from the back with a small tray in her hands, pausing mid-step the moment her eyes landed on you.

For a fraction of a second, her expression didn’t change before recognition settled into a place where surprise had taken over.

“It’s you again—” she began, then stopped, as if deciding whether memory had the right to speak first.

You blinked once.

“Hey,” you said, because your brain defaulted to politeness before anything else could form.

“Can I help you with anything?” she asked, setting the tray down on the counter and looked over the display glass.

The other attendant then explained it to her before you could continue.

“Ah, I think I could help with that.” she smiled shyly looking at the two other people in the bakery.

Moments later, you were seated by the window. Outside, the street kept moving in its unbothered rhythm. Cars slid past in muted colors. A cyclist weaved through a gap like it had been there for him alone. Somewhere down the road, a bus sighed to a stop, then carried on without hesitation.

Inside, the bakery held its warmth around you.

A small plate was placed in front of you a few minutes later.

“Here you go, our last slice of Gateau Debord.” The attendant stood in front of your table, her tray folded neatly against her chest as she bowed her head.

“I thought you guys ran out.” 

“We did…until I remembered I kept a slice hidden.” The attendant’s voice softened, eyes glancing over to yours then over to the empty seat in front of you.

You looked at her then leaned to the side to see the older attendant still at the counter.

“Does your boss know about this?”

She froze for half a second then she smiled, a little too quickly.

“It’s not exactly…against the rules,” she said, though her tone made it clear she wasn’t fully convinced by her own defense. “It was reserved. Just not officially labeled for today.”

Your eyes glossed over her nametag.

Kawai Ruka.

“Well, I’m really the type to take anything from someone else. I think you should have this.” You pushed the plate back. “I’ll take anything else.”

“R—really?” she said immediately before retracting, “I mean, you could have it.”

Her words came out too fast, like they were trying to outrun her hesitation.

You glanced at the slice on the plate again. It sat there neatly, almost too carefully presented for something that was apparently “not officially labeled for today.”

“I could,” you said, voice calm, “but it feels like something you’re supposed to regret later if you give it away that easily.”

Silence settled between you again, that wasn't uncomfortable letting the bakery’s soft hum fill it instead.

Ruka finally shifted her hands, fingers curling lightly around the edge of her apron.

“It was reserved,” she said again, softer this time, as if repeating it made it more legitimate. “Someone ordered it earlier and never picked it up. So technically… it would’ve been thrown away.”

You looked at her properly then.

“Then why don't we share it?” 

Ruka blinked.

The suggestion seemed to reach her a second later than it should have, as if it had to pass through several layers of caution before arriving somewhere she could react from.

“Share it?” she repeated.

You gave a small shrug. “That way nobody steals from anyone, nobody breaks policy, and the cake gets shared between two people who apparently want it.”

Her fingers tightened around the tray she was still holding. For a moment, you thought she might refuse out of habit alone. Some people were so practiced at declining kindness that they mistook it for discipline.

Instead, she drew in a breath and glanced toward the counter where the older attendant was busy wrapping bread for another customer.

“I can take my break now,” she said after a pause.

She disappeared for a minute and returned without the apron, her nametag removed, her hair tied back more loosely than before.

She sat across from you by the window, careful in the way people sit when they are not yet sure they are meant to stay.

You moved the plate to the center of the table.

Ruka reached for a second fork she had brought and placed it beside yours. The metal touched porcelain with a small, clear sound before she took a small piece for herself.

You held in a laugh.

“Is it good?” you asked.

Ruka paused with the fork halfway back to the plate, as if the question required more care than it should have.

She finished chewing before answering.

“It is,” she said quietly. “Though I’m not sure if that’s because it’s actually good or because I’ve wanted to try it for weeks.”

A faint smile touched her mouth, brief and sudden.

You took a bite of your own.

The cake was rich without being too much, layered with dark sponge and cream that carried a bitterness just sharp enough to keep the sweetness level. It was better than you expected, that felt fitting somehow.

“It’s good,” you admitted.

“I told you.”

She seemed to realize what she’d said only after it had left her, and her eyes lowered immediately to the plate between you.

Outside, rain began without warning.

It started as dots against the glass, then steadied into the start of a shower. People quickened their pace. A man across the street unfolded an umbrella too late for him to stay dry.

The bakery lights grew brighter.

“The next time you go here, I'll make sure to have a fresh batch waiting.” she said after a moment. 

You looked up at her.

“The next time?”

Ruka seemed to hear herself only then.

A faint flush rose to her face, subtle but noticeable. Her fingers adjusted needlessly around the fork in her hand.

“I mean,” she said carefully, eyes lowering to the plate, “if you come back here again.”

There was something earnest in the correction, and something smaller beneath it that did not want to be corrected at all.

“I guess I’ll come visit more often,” you said, a smile growing.

For a moment, she only stared at you, as if deciding whether that answer was serious or simply polite. Then she gave a small nod, the kind people offer when they do not trust themselves to say more.

Neither of you had noticed how long you had been speaking without names.

You set your fork down.

“I should probably introduce myself before I start promising repeat visits.”

Her eyes lifted again.

“You probably already saw mine,” she said softly, glancing toward where her nametag had been earlier.

“Kawai Ruka,” you said. “I saw it when you were deciding whether you wanted the slice for yourself.”

She let out a quiet laugh before trying to hide it behind her hand.

The laughter stayed in her eyes even after her mouth dropped down. 

“And you?” she asked.

You told her your name.

She repeated it once under her breath, then once again more clearly.

“It's nice to meet you.” she said before seeming surprised at herself again.

You reached your hand out then.

“Likewise.”

Ruka slowly raised hers, shaking your hand gently.

Her palm was warm from the bakery, from plates and ovens and the steady labor of the afternoon. The touch was light, careful, as though she was uncertain how much of herself she was allowed to show.

That was when you felt it.

It wasn’t recognition exactly, nor was it memory. It was something older than both. The quiet shift inside your chest when life, without warning, gives you another chance at something you once thought had closed for good.

A breath left you before you could stop it.

Ruka’s eyes lifted to yours. They were clear in a way that made them difficult to hide from, carrying the kind of sincerity that asked for nothing yet still offered something.

Outside, rain pressed softly against the glass. Inside, warmth gathered around the table, around the unfinished cake, around two people who had not expected this afternoon to go into the way that it unfolded.

You held her gaze for one second longer than strangers usually do.

And here we go again.

───✱.｡:｡✱.:｡✧.｡✰.:｡✧.｡:｡.｡✱───