Lumina

As you hear the footsteps go from one stall to another you freeze, hand hovering over the coil of the XLR cable your boss told you to grab from the makeshift equipment room. It just so happens the room is pulling double duty as the members' prep area.

Who's stupid fucking idea was this?

The muffled bickering continued to come from the changing stall on the other side of the room.

You knew it was just Chaewon and Kazuha left to argue in there since you saw Yunjin, Sakura, and Eunchae already on set for the shoot ten minutes ago. From what you were hearing it was probably going to be a while before the other two joined them.

"Turn around, let me see the tag. Yeah, see? Backwards. You’re fucking hopeless."

"Shut up. Just help me get them off. Or on. Whatever. Fuck. Just fix it before my circulation gets cut off permanently."

Shhh-wip. They were definitely coming off.

Just focus on your job, that's all you should do. You pretend to untangle the cable in your hands to keep your mind occupied while the sounds from the stall become more and more distracting.

"They're soooo tight. I feel like I'm being vacuum sealed. Is this supposed to happen? Does Lululemon hate me?"

"It’s compression wear, unnie. It’s supposed to be tight," Kazuha teases. "They're just letting it sit on your hips like a pair of low rise pants. Are you going for a Y2K vibe or something? You have to pull them up more."

"Excuse me? I've been trying to pull them up! They won't move. It's stuck right here...uhn...on my thighs."

"Let me do it. You’re weak."

"Hey! I am not weak, I’m just...ah! Okay, watch your nails!"

"Stop wiggling, you’re making it worse. Just let me get the these up... there. See?"

"Oh my god, that feels so much better."

"Good. Now check the seam. Is it straight down the middle?"

"Middle of what?"

"Your butt, Chaewon. The seam. It needs to be centered or it'll look weird on camera."

Silence stretches for a moment, followed by the sound of more shuffling.

You swallow hard, staring at the wire in your hands as if it holds the secrets to the universe.

You are a professional.

You are part of the production staff.

You are here to move cables and set up lights, that's all.

Nothing else.

You are definitely not here to eavesdrop on two of the biggest celebs in the country discussing their butt seams.

"I don't know, it feels... crooked. Like, one side is riding up more than the other. Can you see it?"

"I'm looking. Turn towards the light so I can get a better look at it."

"The light? How's the light going to help? It's been flickering all day Kazuha."

"Just turn. Okay? Wait, I see what you mean. They are bunching up right here." A loud slap echoes through the stall, the sound of skin hitting skin. You jump, nearly dropping the cable. Is that what you think it was? "Right on your ass." Yeah, it was.

"It's bunching up?" Chaewon sounds horrified. "Why is it doing that? I thought these were expensive!"

"They are expensive. That’s why they fit like a glove and you just have to learn how to wear them. Hold still. Let me try to smooth it out."

"Ow... don't pull so hard!"

"I’m trying to fix it. Just chill the fuck out. I think it'll smooth out if I pull them up higher."

"Higher? They can't go any higher, if they get pulled up anymore, I’m going to get split the fuck in half."

You stare at the closed curtain that's serving as the door. The pop-up stall is just a metallic frame wrapped in grey velvet that doesn’t reach the floor letting you see two sets of feet shuffling around beneath the gap. Not like you're looking or anything.

You should leave.

Grab the cables and walk out the door. Just go back to the set, let them figure out what's going on with those leggings in peace. Unfortunately, or fortunately, your feet feel like they’ve been cemented to the floor.

"It's still not right, ughhhhh. There's no way I can go out there like this. The camera is going to pick up every little wrinkle and I'm going to get so much shit for it. I can already see the tweets."

"It’s not that bad, but you’re right. It’s being a little... problematic. I think we need a second opinion. Or a third set of hands."

"A third set of hands? Who's? Eunchae is gone. Yunjin is probably out there yapping to the director. Sakura is probably back to playing her Switch."

"There’s staff outside, right? I heard footsteps earlier."

You hold your breath. She heard footsteps earlier, YOUR footsteps.

"No, absolutely the fuck not," Chaewon balks immediately. "I am not asking some random fucking staff member to come inspect my butt. That’s embarrassing. That’s a lawsuit waiting to happen."

"It’s just clothes! Nothing more. We need the fit to look perfect. Director-nim is going to have a cow if we show up late to the shoot because you're self conscious about a seam." Kazuha gets louder. "HEY! Staff member! Can you come help us for a sec?"

"Kazuha, no!" Chaewon hisses.

Too late. The call has been made. You stand there, paralyzed, wondering if feigning sudden deafness is a viable career strategy. The velvet curtain parts a fraction, and Kazuha’s face peeks out. She spots you instantly, standing near the equipment rack like a statue in a museum.

Maybe she won't notice if you don't.... move.... a.... muscle.

"Oh, good," she says, a relieved smile breaking across her face as she waves you over. "You! Please, come over here. We have a code red, a fashion emergency."

You quickly glance at the exit, it’s twenty feet away. You could probably make it. If that's what you want to do.

"Please," Kazuha now pouting. "Chaewon is panicking and I’m losing my mind. We just need a quick check on the fit."

You're just helping them out, that's what you're boss would want you to do right?

Nodding slowly, you force your legs to move toward the stall. "I... I can help? What do you need?"

Grabbing your wrist the moment you're within range Kazuha pulls you into the stall. It’s cramped with a full length mirror, a small bench, and now there's three people fit into a space meant for one. It's so much hotter in here.

Chaewon's standing with her back to the mirror, looking over her shoulder with a face full of panic. Her outfit is... well, it’s hot... you mean a lot. She’s wearing a long-sleeved black bodysuit that hugs her torso like it's painted on, disappearing into the waistband of the black leggings you've been hearing so much about. Wonder where that goes. The leggings are indeed tight, very tight, sculpting her legs in a way that should probably be illegal. She looks incredible, but she also looks like she’s about to fight a ghost.

"Tell me I'm not crazy," Chaewon says the moment the curtain slides shut behind you, trapping you inside. "Look at this. Do you see that? Right there on the left cheek?"

Turning slightly she points to the back of her thigh.

Your brain short circuits and you have to force your jaw not to drop from the situation you find yourself in.

You are in a small, enclosed space with two insanely attractive women, and one of them is asking you to inspect her ass. HER ASS.

Just be cool, just be cool. You got this.

"It’s... bunching up," Kazuha explains off to the side, crossing her arms. She’s wearing black Lululemon shorts and a simple white tank top, looking effortlessly cool compared to Chaewon who is currently losing her mind. "The seam isn't sitting right either. We've tried pulling them up, smoothing them out, everything. But it keeps bunching up."

Clearing your throat you hope your voice doesn't crack. "It... uh... it looks like the sizing might be a little off?" It cracks. Fuck. "Or maybe the cut?"

Chaewon groans, dropping her head forward. "I knew it. I knew I shouldn't have had that extra water this morning. I'm bloated. I'm a potato."

"You're not a potato," Kazuha rolls her eyes, stepping forward. Looking at you, dead serious. "Can you just... check? Tell us if it's noticeable from a normal distance. Like, if you were standing behind me in line at a cafe, would you point and laugh?"

"I wouldn't point and laugh," you stammer, feeling your face heat up. "I'm not a monster."

"Good to know," Chaewon mutters, though she shoots you a small, suprisingly genuine? smile over her shoulder. "Just be honest. If it looks bad, tell me. I'll change. I'll wear something else, fuck it I'll wear sweatpants. I don't care."

"Okay," you manage to say. "I'll... take a look."

You step closer. Did the A/C break or something, it's so hot. Chaewon turns to face the mirror, her back to you. The seam in question runs vertically down the center of her ass.

What...

An...

Ass...

Sure enough, you see the problem, they are definitely bunching up on her left cheek and the seam is all sorts of fucked up.

"See?" Chaewon asks, now whispering. "It's tragic."

"It's barely noticeable," you lie, leaning in slightly to inspect it without actually touching. "It's just... what happens with this kind of fabric." What are you saying, you don't know anything about fabric. "Maybe if you move the waistband a bit?"

"We tried that," Kazuha chimes in, moving to stand on Chaewon's other side, looking at your reflection in the mirror with a playful smirk on her face. "You're being very polite. Just be honest. It's okay to say it looks weird. We’re all friends in here. Well, maybe acquaintances is the better word. Acquaintances who are trapped in a box together."

Just act like you know what you're talking about.

"I think it just needs to be smoothed out," you suggest, gesturing vaguely at the offending area acting like you have any sort of idea of what you're saying. "We should adjust the waistband first to get the seam lined up and then to get that bunched up part smooth we should pull the fabric around it to get rid of it. Then from there work our way up and smooth out anything else while making sure that seam is lined up right." There's no way that word vomit made any sense.

Kazuha nods. "That makes sense." HUH?

Looking at Chaewon, she says, "Just let him... err... let us try. You’ve been pulling at it for five minutes and it’s only getting worse. A fresh pair of hands might help."

Chaewon hesitates, her eyes meeting yours in the mirror. Despite you knowing her, knowing?, as someone who seems super confident all the time, you can see how nervous she is now. "Okay," she breathes out. "Deal, but be easy on me, I’m a delicate."

"Right, I'll be gentle. Got it."

Kazuha snorts. "Don't worry, she usually likes it rough... OWWW! What the fuck Chaewon?"

Chaewon elbows her in the ribs, hard. "Ignore her. She's crazy. Just... fix it."

You step in closer, invading her personal space getting so close close that you can see the hard work she's put into her body thanks to the skintight bodysuit. So close that you can now smell the hint of her perfume.

Just be cool.

Reaching out, your hands hover for a split second before making contact with the fabric.

It’s warm. That’s the first thing that you notice as you place your hands on her hips, your fingers splaying out over the waistband. Chaewon tenses up instantly as she tries to hide a gasp.

"Sorry... cold hands."

"It's... fine... just... do your thing."

Gripping the waistband, you try to ignore the fact that you are essentially holding her hips. WHAT? "Ready?"

"As ready as ever."

As you twist the waistband, the seam falls into place, it actually works.

"First part done." Continue to act cool, you got this.

As you line up where to pull to get rid of the bunching you sense Kazuha watching you like a hawk from the side. Don't fuck up, don't fuck up, don't fuck up.

"Make sure you pull it tight," Kazuha instructs. "Like, really tight."

You pinch fabric right in the area right below where her thigh meets her cheek making Chaewon shiver.

"You good...?" you ask, pausing.

"Yeah," she squeaks. "Just... go ahead."

As you pull the fabric down it stretches easily, sliding over her skin as the bunching goes away. Now for the last part.

"Okay, now you just have to make sure everything is smoothed out," Kazuha commands. " Work your way up and do it slowly to make sure that seam doesn't budge."

You start to slide your hands back up using your palms to smooth the fabric against her skin as you go, making sure it lays flat. Your hands graze over the swell of her ass, her ass is ridiculous. Hyper aware of every inch of contact, the friction of your skin against hers even though a thin layer of spandex is in the way gives you goosebumps.

"Is that... is that better?" Chaewon asks, barely whispering.

"ALMOST," you say way too loudly. "There's still a little bit of a twist right here."

Your hands are currently cupping her ass, your fingers digging in slightly to adjust the seam, you're basically manhandling her as you try to iron out the wrinkles in her leggings with your bare hands. Is this actually happening, like what the fuck?

"Here," Kazuha says as she steps up behind you. Reaching out, covers your hand with hers on Chaewon’s left cheek. "Push it like this. You have to really get in there to make sure it stays flat."

She presses your hand harder into Chaewon’s flesh. "Unnf!" Was that a moan? Chaewon clamps her mouth shut, her eyes squeezing shut in the mirror.

"Kazuha!" she chokes out. "Too hard!"

"That's how you do it though!" Kazuha laughs, squeezing your hand before letting go. "Feel the difference?"

Right.

Adjusting your grip, your thumbs press into the crease beneath her cheek. You can feel the heat radiating off her, and you’re pretty sure your face is bright red.

"Like this?"

"Mmm," Chaewon hums as her head drops forward. "Yeah. That feels... that feels good... I mean right. Yeah... right."

"Don't encourage him," Kazuha teases, leaning in closer to inspect your work. "Okay, looking better. Just keep... smoothing it out. Up and down. Work it out."

You do as you're told for what felt like an eternity as tried to smooth things out as best as you could. Am I just giving her a massage at this point? Chaewon made it seem that way with how flustered her reflection looked and how her breathing started to get more and more shallow. Then, out of nowhere, she shook it off.

"You know I think I'm... it's good, actually," Chaewon mutters, though her weight shifts slightly into your palms. "Problem solved."

"Nice work," Kazuha chirps, stepping back to cross her arms. "See? Teamwork makes the dream work. Now we just need to..."

Before she can finish the thought, her hands shoot out, wrapping around your wrists.

"Wait, we missed a spot. On the waistband."

"On the waistband?"

"Yeah, see right here," she explains, guiding your hands higher, forcing them up the curve of Chaewon's backside until your fingers are gripping the waistband again. "It's bunching up here now. We need to fix it."

"Kazuha, what are you..." Chaewon starts, but it's too late.

Kazuha suddenly yanks your hands downward, pulling the waistband down Chaewon's hips and dragging it all the way down to her thighs in one go.

"OHMYGOD!" Chaewon yelps, instinctively arching her back to stabilize herself.

OHMYGOD. There, just out in the open, is Chaewon's ass, completely bare save for the thong back of her black bodysuit disappearing between her cheeks, leaving absolutely nothing to your imagination. You can see that her skin is so smooth, her ass round, so fucking round...

and firm...

and tight, you mean right...

right in front of your growing fucking bulge.

"My bad," Kazuha shrugs, not sounding sorry at all. She releases your wrists but leaving your hands hovering there, almost cupping Chaewon's cheeks. "Slippery little devils, aren't they?"

"You did that on purpose!" Chaewon accuses, twisting around to glare at her groupmate. The movement jiggles her entire body in a way that makes your throat close.

"I was just helping," Kazuha defends with a wicked grin. "Besides, look at how smooth that area is now. Flawless."

You are frozen.

Look away, apologize, maybe if you literally pass out you can escape this. Your eyes are glued to the sight in front of you. It’s magnificent, might be... no... is the greatest thing you've ever seen. It’s also career suicide.

"Are you just going to stare?" Chaewon asks breathless and flustered. "You can... help pull them back up. Or something."

"Right," you choke out. "Yeah. Pulling. Them. Up."

Reaching for the waistband pooling around her thighs your knuckles graze the bare skin of her ass. You hook your fingers into the waistband, preparing to hoist it back up, but the angle is awkward, you’re too close to her.

"Use both hands," Kazuha says, moving to stand behind you now, crowding your back, her chest pressing against your shoulder blades. "Get a good grip. You have to really yank it."

"I'm trying."

Shifting your stance, you lean forward, bringing your hands down to the waistband at her thighs. As you squat a little to get better leverage, your right hand slips and your palm definitely doesn't find the spandex. Instead, it slides right up the middle, grazing the thong.

HER THONG.

It’s not just warm.

It’s wet.

You freeze. As your eyes snap up to Chaewon's reflection in the mirror her face is now bright red.

She saw you feel it.

She knows you felt it.

"Fuck," you whisper, snatching your hand back like you touched a stove. "Sorry. I didn't mean to..."

"It's fine," Chaewon says quickly, too quickly. She clears her throat, turning her face away from yours. "Just... hurry up and fix it, okay?"

"Wow," Kazuha breathes against your ear, having not moved away at all. If anything, she's pressed even closer. "That's... interesting. You having some technical difficulties there, Chaewon-unnie? Or are you just enjoying the help?"

"Shut the fuck up, Kazuha," Chaewon snaps, but there's no real heat in it. Just panic. "It's just... nerves. The... shoot. You know how I get... right?"

"Nerves?" Kazuha laughs. "I don't think nerves get you wet like that, unnie. That's a whole different kind of feeling you're having."

"Look..." Chaewon says looking at you in the mirror, her eyes pleading. "Can you just... can you not say anything about any of this? Please?"

"I won't," you promise, your heart hammering against your ribs. "I swear. My lips are sealed."

"That's not the only thing you want from him, is it?" Kazuha teases. She reaches around you, her hand finding your wrist again. She guides your hand back toward Chaewon, not toward the leggings this time, but higher, toward the damp fabric of the bodysuit. "If it's bothering you... we should fix it. Right? He's been a good help so far."

"What are you doing?" Chaewon gasps, watching the reflection. She doesn't move away, she instead actually pushes her hips back, into your touch.

"I'm just helping a friend out," Kazuha says looking at you in the mirror. "Filming a video while she's like this? This wet? That wouldn't work. Help a girl out."

"Help her how?" you ask, barely audible. You know exactly what she's suggesting you do. What the fuck, what the fuck, what the fuck?

"Use your mouth," Kazuha whispers, pressing her hips against your ass. "She wants it. Look at her. She's practically begging for it."

"Uhhnnn," Chaewon lets out. She drops her head forward, resting her forehead against the cool surface of the mirror. "God, yes. Okay? Fine. Fuck. Yes. Please. Just... fix it."

Fuck it. Operating purely on instinct now, every rule you've ever learned about workplace conduct has just been tossed out the window into the alleyway behind the studio. You sink to your knees behind her. The view is even more incredible as this angle, her ass with that tiny, wet scrap of black fabric barely hanging on now fully in your face.

"You're sure?" you ask, needing to hear it one last time. No way this is real.

"Do it before I change my mind," Chaewon hisses.

You lean in and the smell of her heat hits you. Fuck... this is real. Fuck formalities. Fuck teasing. You press your face right against her, your tongue flat against her soaked thong.

"FUCK!" Chaewon cries out, her knees buckling bracing her hands against the mirror to not fall.

You lick a long stripe up the center of the fabric, tasting her through it. This is crazy. You want to slide the thong to the side so bad, but it's so hard to pull your mouth away for just a second. Latched onto her, you suck hard, feeling the heat and wetness against your lips.

"Oh my god," Kazuha says from above you, delighted. "Look at that. He's starving, good boy."

Ignoring her, your focus is entirely on Chaewon and her moaning. You can feel her clenching, desperate for more.

"Slide the thong over alreadyyy," Chaewon whines, reaching back blindly. Her fingers scrabble against your hair, then dip lower to the latch between her legs. "Take it off. Do something, just get rid of it. I need... I need your tongue on me."

You take your mouth off, as much as you don't want to. There's a soft click as you unsnap the part covering her core. The thong part of the bodysuit falls away. You don't waste a second and right back dive in, burying your face in her bare folds.

The way she tastes as you lap at her folds, it's insane. You then swirl your tongue around her clit before sucking it. She's sooo wet, so ready, that you feel it on your face already.

"Ahhhh! Fuck, fuck, fuck!" Chaewon's hips buck back against your face. "Yessss! Right fucking there! Don't you dare stop!"

Following exactly what she says, you don't stop, you want to make her fall apart. Your nose presses against her other hole, adding a dirty pressure that makes her gasp, while your tongue fucks her entrance in rapid, shallow thrusts.

"You're making quite the mess," Kazuha observes as you hear her start to move. "Look at him go. He's not even coming up for air."

You try to glance up, your vision filled with the curve of Chaewon's ass. Kazuha is leaning back against the bench, her own Lululemon shorts now pulled down to her knees revealing a white Calvin Klein thong. Her hand is deep down the front of it, moving in slow, deliberate circles.

"Are you seeing this Zuha?" Chaewon pants, her eyes opening to meet her friend's gaze in the mirror. "Are you seeing how fucking good he is at this?"

"Yesss... fuck... it looks... it looks like it feels fucking amazing. He's really into it, it has to feel sooooo good."

"He's soooo...," Chaewon whines, dropping her head again. "It feels so good. I'm not... I'm not going to last long if he keeps this up."

"Don't hold back," Kazuha fingers move faster. "Let him fucking have it. Cover his face."

The dirty talk is spiraling out of control, pushing all of you toward the edge. You double down, sucking on Chaewon's clit with hard, rhythmic pulses. Moving your head down a bit to slip two fingers inside of her, fuck that's tight, you hook them to find that spot that drives women crazy.

"Oh fuckkkkk! Fingers too?" Chaewon screams. "I'm gonna... I'm cumming! Fuck! I'm fucking cumming!"

Her entire body tenses as her back arches and thighs shake. The walls clamp down squeezing so tight around your fingers. She cums as she lets out a long broken moan. You help her ride it out, tongue still deep in her folds until she pulls away gasping for air.

"Hollllllyyyy fuck," Chaewon slides down the mirror until she's crouching on the floor. "That was... that was insane, what the actual fuck? Was not expecting you to be THAT good."

Kazuha pulls her fingers out from her thong, you see how wet they are as moves to stand right in front of you.

You look up at her cleaning your face of Chaewon's juices with your heart still racing.

"I need some help with something too."

Kazuha hooks her thumbs into the waistband of her thong to slide it down her legs before kicking it aside. What a sight. "Stand up... now."

You do.

Kazuha grabs you by the shoulders and pushes you towards the front of the bench. Guess you won't be catching your breath. She then lifts her leg and puts her foot on the bench beside you.

"I now have the same exact problem, think you can fix it like you fixed hers?"

So you do just that, first leaning forward to kiss her lips and then slowly you make your way down her neck before you sit on the ground in front of the bench. Her folds are right in front of you now and she’s just as beautiful as Chaewon. What is your life?

You start licking her, wanting to cover every inch. Kazuha is vocal immediately, her hands tangle in your hair, pulling you closer. Your hands grab her ass to help her maintain her balance.

"Just... like... that," she groans, her head falling back. "Your mouth is... fuck. You're so fucking good at this."

While you're deep in her folds, you hear the distinct sound of a belt unbuckling.

Your belt.

"Look at this," Chaewon murmurs as her face is now near your waist. "Seems like someone's been soooo hard this whole time."

She unzips your pants and yanks them down your legs along with your briefs, freeing your length. It slaps against your stomach. Fuck. Your hips jerk forward and let out a small moan.

"Oh... he's big," Chaewon wraps her hand around the base giving you an test squeeze. "And thick."

"Don't distract him," Kazuha pants, looking down at you. "I'm close."

You redouble your efforts on Kazuha, flicking your tongue rapidly over her clit while slipping a finger inside her the same way you made Chaewon cum. She’s tighter than Chaewon, her muscles grip you like a vice. She grinds her hips against your face, trying to reach the edge.

Then you suddenly have to stop because you feel something so amazing that you feel your soul almost leave your body.

A wet warmth envelops the tip of your length.

You look down just as Chaewon takes you deeper into her mouth as she’s on her hands and knees with her ass in the air. Watching her, she bobs her head up and down your shaft, she takes you so deep. Every time she goes down you feel her throat relax to fit you in and every time she comes up her tongue swirls around your head while you can feel the pool of saliva slowly form around your base.

"Fuuucckkk," you moan against Kazuha's core.

The sensation is overwhelming as you eat out one gorgeous idol while getting the blowjob of your life from another.

"Does her... does her mouth feel good?" Kazuha asks, watching Chaewon work. "Looks like she really... fuck... she really knows what she's doing, she's always told me she's reallllll good at that, no gag reflex at all."

You nod as the words don't, can't, come to mind, as you switch to sucking on Kazuha's clit, grazing it gently with your teeth.

"Ohhhhh! Yesss!" Kazuha cries out. "Keep... keep doing that! Please. Fuck. Fuck, I'm going to cum!"

You keep up the same rhythm, your finger pumping in and out of her as you continue to suck on her clit. Down below, Chaewon's hand is now twisting and sliding up and down your length faster and faster in unison with her mouth. She moans to add even more to what you think is the best thing you've ever felt. Do not cum, you don't want this to end, ever.

"I'm fuck... I think I'm cu... I'm so close," Kazuha's thighs begin to tremble on either side of your head. "Please... please please don't stop doing that, I need this so bad!"

With a final cry Kazuha cums and her juices flood your mouth as you keep her upright through it, still gripping her ass. Never plan on letting go of this amazing ass. Holding your head in place she grinds against you until she's spent.

"Fuckkkkk," she releases her grip on your hair and slumps back against the bench, looking down at you cum drunk. "That was... so fucking good."

You finally let go of her folds. Breathe. You haven't been able to for a while. Gasping for air, your face is slick with a combo of both of their juices. Chaewon is still working your length with all of the enthusiasm. Fuck, you might die right here, right now. She looks up at you and pops you out of her mouth.

"We're not finished yet," pumping your saliva coated shaft with her hand.

She leans forward and runs her tongue up the underside of your shaft to the head and swirls it, without breaking eye contact.

"Are you close? I want... no... need you to cum in my mouth. I want to taste you so bad. Do you think you can do that for me?"

"I don't think so," Kazuha clamps her hand down on Chaewon’s shoulder to pull her back. "Not yet. He not getting off that easy."

Chaewon blinks. "What? That's not fair... ughhhhhhh," actually pouting as she’s dragged away from your lap. "But he's so ready. Look at him."

"Exactly. If he cums now, the fun is over. We can't have that, I don't know about you but I still want to have some fun."

Yep. You're going to die here.

Your length throbs in the open air twitching at the sheer unfairness of the situation. Just beg for mercy, that might work. Kazuha points a finger at the bench.

"Sit."

Fine, if this is your final resting place, so bet it.

The awkwardness in how you scramble and fumble towards the bench with your pants now around your ankles will go down as the most thing to ever happen.

Maybe they didn't see it.

"Good boy," Kazuha says before turning towards Chaewon. "Go on, hop on."

Definitely don't need to tell Chaewon twice. The leggings immediately come the rest of the way off. If only they were that easy to put on. She comes over to the bench and puts her knees on either side of you with her core directly above you tip.

"God, I want you to feel how wet I still am because of you." She reaches down and grips your shaft to line you up with her entrance, your tip now grinding against her slick entrance. God she's still dripping wet. "You feel that? I think I'm ready, hope you are."

"Go on Chaewon, ride him already," Kazuha urges, standing right beside you two, arms crossed over her chest. "Show him how the leader handles it."

"Oh I will." Chaewon sinks down.

She’s tight...

incredibly tight...

but so wet.

You slide in with one smooth, glide.

HOLY FUCK, WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS?

Her walls stretch around you to fit all of you in.

You let out a groan like you never have before.

"Fuckkkkk," Breathe. "You're... just... fuck."

"What? Am I... am I too tight?" Chaewon pitchy and breathless. She starts to move, she lifts her hips up and the drops them down. "You feel so huge inside me."

"Good fucking lord, you feel unreal," you manage to gasp out.

The rhythm set by Chaewon is nothing short of desperate. She braces her hands on your shoulders for, you feel her nails dig in. Her ass slaps against your thighs with every downward thrust. The sound of it. The fucking sound of it.

Plap.

Plap.

Plap.

Your mind processes it in slow motion as you just try to survive.

"Look at that," Kazuha watched intently. She reaches out to poke Chaewon’s bouncing ass cheek. "You're really taking it all. Look at how much he's stretching you out."

"Zuha, don't you dare fucking distract me," Chaewon grinds down harder, making your eyes roll back.

"Distract you? I'm giving you a compliment." Kazuha leans in closer to your face locking into your eyes. "Does she feel good? Is her tight little pussy gripping you tight?"

"Fuck," you choke out, nodding. "So... so so good. Best I've ever felt."

"That's fucking right I am," Chaewon pants. She mashes her chest against yours, seeking out your mouth. You kiss her, messy and wet, tongues tangling as she continues to bounce on your lap.

You can feel the pressure building in your core. Don't know how much longer... so close.

"Fuck... slow down before I cum, I can't take much longer of you going this fast."

"No, that's not allowed, not yet." Chaewon squeezes her internal muscles deliberately.

Your hips buck up involuntarily in response.

"Just hold it a little longer, I'm so close, let me cum first."

"She's sooo demanding today," Kazuha laughs. "Better give the leader what she wants. Grab her hips, help her out."

You slide your hands down her back to grip her waist. Sliding yourself a little off the bench and using your elbows for leverage to thrust up into before she drops all the way down. Yeah this is the spot.

"Ohhhhh myyyyy...! Fuck! That's it... you're so fucking big... fuck!"

The sight of her is something else.

Her flushed face.

Her hair sticking to her forehead.

The way her bodysuit clings to her frame.

"I'm sooooo close... fuck! You ready for me to cum all over your cock! Fuck!"

She slams down onto you one last time. Her entire body seizes up. Her walls pulse around you while she buries her face in your neck to quiet her screams, her breath hot against your skin.

"That's a good fucking girl," Kazuha soothingly pats Chaewon’s back. "There's no way no one else heard how loud you were at all."

"Please just shut up for one sec Kazuha," Chaewon mumbles into your shoulder, still going through the aftershocks. She then looks at you, "Wow. Just wow."

She lifts herself off you slowly, your length sliding out of her with a wet schlick. A string of precum connects you for a moment before breaking. You’re still rock hard, needing to cum, but you know how this is going to go.

"You know what I'm going to say" Kazuha shoves Chaewon gently to the side.

Kazuha turns around shoving that fit ass in your face.

"I want you to watch my ass while I ride you."

She squats all the way down your length to the base.

God how is it this tight. HOW?

"Fuck me, you're so thick."

Kazuha leans back to put her head on your shoulder. She then starts to bounce up and down.

You reach around her body to grab onto her perky breasts. Her nipples are so hard. You pinch them, and she lets out a sharp hiss.

"Harder, I need you to pinch them harder."

You obey and pinch them as hard as you can while she continues to ride.

Watching her ass cheeks ripple every time they hit your thighs is going to be engrained in your mind. She’s incredible.

"Look at us. Two idols, using a staff member like a fucking toy in a changing stall. It's so hot, isn't it?"

"Soooooo... fucking.... hot."

Just thing about baseball or sitting in traffic or LITERALLY ANTYHING.

"Chaewon-unnie, look. Look how much he's stretching me out. It feels so good."

Chaewon lifts her head from her hands, still cum drunk. "It does. He's hitting that same spot he did with me, isn't he?"

"He is. He's fills me up so fucking good. But I need more. I want it harder."

She grabs onto your knees and slams herself down even harder.

PLAP.

PLAP.

PLAP.

In the mirror you see her start to quickly rub her clit.

"Fuck fuck fuck. Yes yes yes yes. Yes!"

You thrust up into her, matching her pace. Every muscle in your body is tense as you try not to cum.

"Come on Zuha," Chaewon encourages, reaching out to stroke Kazuha’s hair. "Cum for him. Soak his cock."

A final, sharp cry then Kazuha gets over that edge. Her back arches against your chest as her orgasm rips through her. She cries out and her walls clamp down.

You freeze, holding your breath.

Not yet, whatever you do, do not cum yet. Don't let this end.

Kazuha slumps against you to catch her breath. It doesn't take that long before she pulls herself off you. Your cock plops out so wet with her. She stands up on shaky legs.

"Fuck, that felt great. How the fuck did you not cum?"

Sweat drips down your forehead. "I'm fucking dying here. I didn't want this to end."

You look at Chaewon, she still has that post orgasm glow. You remember the position she was in when you first entered the stall.

"Get over here." The authority in your tone surprises even you.

Chaewon’s eyes widen. She knows exactly what you want.

"Bend over. Just like you were when I was fixing your leggings."

She bends and sticks her ass out.

"Like this?" she looks back with a smirk.

"Fuckkkkk yes," you growl.

You stand up, finally shoving your pants all the way off. Thankfully not as awkward as before. Linking yourself up behind her, you grip her hips.

"You going to fucking fill me up?" she teases as she wiggles her ass.

"You better believe it."

You push inside.

God it feels so much deeper this way. You bottom out almost immediately, your hips pressing against her ass. Chaewon lets out a loud moan.

You don't wait.

You can't afford to.

You start to thrust, hard and fast.

You take her exactly the way you wanted to since the moment you heard her struggling with those stupid spandex pants.

"Yessssss! Fuck me! Use me!"

The sound of your hips slamming against her ass is so loud. Probably too loud. The stall is shaking with the force of your thrusts.

"Fuck that's hot," Kazuha says from the bench. "Stretch her out. Make her beg for more."

"He's stretching me out so fucking much! It's so deep!"

You reached out, gathering her hair in your fist and pull her head back.

"You like that? You like taking my big thick cock?"

"I love it! I love your fucking cock! It's so thick! It's stretching this tight pussy out so fucking much!" The filth pouring out of her mouth is so dirty, desperate, and it drives you wild.

This is it, you can't last any longer.

"Cum inside me... fuck! Please please please! I want it! I need you to fucking fill this pussy up!"

"Beg for it," Kazuha chimes in. "Beg him."

"PLEASE! Please cum in me! I'm a dirty little slut! My pussy needs your cum! Paint my insides! Own this pussy! It's yours!"

That’s it. That’s the trigger.

"FUUUUUUCCCCKKKKKKK!!!"

You slam your hips against her ass one last time, trying to go as deep as possible. You vision starts to go and your body locks up.

FUCK.

You cum harder than you ever have in your life. It feels like it lasts forever as you flood her with cum. She's squeezing so tight around you, milking you dry.

"Yes! Yes! I can feel it! It... it feels... FUCK... it's so fucking good!" her body shakes violently.

You freeze, you both just freeze, trying to catch your breath.

The world slowly comes back into focus. You pull out and see your release run down her thigh.

"Holy fucking shit."

"Yeah... holy shit."

"Bravo, bravo. What a fucking show," Kazuha quips, tossing a pack of wet wipes from her bag at you.

You catch them even with your still shaking hands. You start to help Chaewon clean herself up when the sound of someone clearing their throat comes from just outside the curtain.

A very familiar, very polite throat clearing.

"Chaewon? Kazuha?" Sakura calls out, cheerful and completely oblivious to the absolute depravity that just went down three feet away from her face. "Manager-nim says we have five minutes until the camera rolls. Are you guys doing okay in there?"

Chaewon’s eyes go so so so wide. She looks at you, then at Kazuha, panic replacing her post orgasm glow.

"We'll be out in a bit Kkura-unnie!" Kazuha yells back, somehow calm as a cucumber. She looks at the two of you and smirks. "We had a... problem with the leggings. We're fixing it now."

"Okay! Don't be late!" You hear her footsteps leave the room and go back down the hallway.

What in the fuck just happened? Did that actually happen?

"We are definitely going to be late."

Chaewon just laughs as she quickly pulls her leggings back up.

The annual Halloween party for BPM was just starting; most of their idols were at other parties, but the Viviz members showed up right after it began. They had taken time to put on costumes after finishing filming for the day. 

You watched them walk into the party from afar. Each member had taken after their representative animal. Considering the party would be just the company employees, the girls had taken to wearing something bolder. Eunha wore a bunny suit and a small skirt that ended just above her mid-thigh. She took care to hide her chest; the corset she had on pushed her breasts up, so she had added another piece of fabric to cover them well. The finishing touches were the rabbit ears, which were absolutely necessary, and a pair of sleek black stockings. 

SinB had chosen to go the Catwoman route for her costume, wearing a skintight bodysuit that left little to the imagination when it came to her form. She added some flourishes by painting her face, whispering to herself, and adding other details. The cat ears were just the cherry on top. 

Umji, being a red panda, went in a slightly different direction. She wore black furry boots and black stockings, an orange pencil skirt with a bushy tail, and a black crop top. Her painted face attracted a lot of attention for its cuteness; people could hardly stay away from the youngest member.

You walked up to them and offered each one a drink, telling them about the different stations around the building, from the snack area Eunha would be interested in, to poker tables and other games you had set up. The girls thanked you for telling them and sipped at their drinks. The party was going well; everyone was having a merry time drinking and chatting. It was also apparent that people were staring at the members, and you couldn’t blame them. They looked stunning in their costumes. You headed over to the poker table, though; it was going to be where you could relax.

Once the drinks began taking hold, the girls started chatting about showing appreciation. “How about we have some fun?” Eunha giggled, playfully grabbing at the others' arms. “They’ve been staring at us all night. Let’s show everyone how much we appreciate them.”

“Eunha, you’re not thinking about that, are you?” SinB asked, feigning shock. She couldn’t deny it; the idea sounded hot, and she was already rubbing her legs together, just imagining being the center of attention. Umji smirked, knowing that her unnies wouldn’t back down now that the idea was in their heads. 

“Let’s not make it easy for them.” She interjected. “Let’s play a couple of games. SinB, why don’t you take over the poker table?”

“Oh, she’s right!” Eunha said excitedly, jumping up and down. “We have a lot of marshmallows; maybe I’ll do chubby bunny.” She said, playing with her rabbit ears.  

Umji’s cheeks puff up, and her brows furrow as she considers what sort of game to play with the staff. “I’ll think of something for myself. You two get started.” Umji says, waving Eunha and SinB away. Both members smile at their maknae before heading in separate directions. 

Umji walked around mingling with the staff as she tried to figure out what to do. Ultimately, she came up with a simple game of hide-and-seek. “Everyone! Who wants to play a game with me?” She shouted to boisterous cheers. “Okay! It’s hide-and-seek; the first to find me gets a special prize! Now close your eyes!” She waited until everyone who was going to play closed her eyes, and she searched for someplace to hide, deciding on the bathroom, where she’d be hiding in the middle stall. Umji giggled to herself as she wondered who would be the lucky person.

Eunha made her way over to the breakroom and searched the cupboards for a bag of marshmallows she knew she had hidden. Once found, she ripped it open and moved to the break room. “Let’s play a game,” she tells everyone in the room, eventually attracting some suitors. After explaining the rules of Chubby Bunny, she was asked what the reward would be. “Hmm, something special, I don’t know what, but it’ll be something good!” she teased them before popping the first marshmallow in her mouth. The rest of the contestants followed suit, and thus began the competition where, marshmallow by marshmallow, their mouths became full. 

“Eunha, you look like you're really struggling,” One of the employees commented.

Eunha furrowed her brow. “I can take a lot more than this,” she mumbled, her cheeks puffing out from the marshmallows. 

“Oh, really?” They asked, 

“Yeah!” Eunha said, annoyed that they would doubt her abilities. She spat the marshmallows onto a napkin before realizing what she had done. She hung her head in shame, feeling bad that she had given the win by accident. On the inside, though, she was a little happy that her festivities would begin early. “Alright then, your reward is a bouncing bunny,” Eunha said with a smile. She flipped the cups of her costume and covered her breasts while doing so. “Get ready,” she said before dropping her arm and jumping, giving everyone a look at her tits. Everyone got closer to the young woman, touching her body, from her legs to her breasts. Eunha cooed as she felt their touch, ready to get started. “Let me show you just how much I can really take,’ she said as she began rubbing the staff’s cocks through their pants.

SinB, all the while, had found her spot at a poker table that the company had set up for fun. You were playing with others when she joined the next game, “Let’s make this a little interesting. How about a few games of strip poker?” You chuckled at the thought, knowing SinB didn’t know much about poker. Maybe it was the drinks making you do it, or perhaps you just wanted to see more SinB, but you agreed.

“Alright, that works for me,” you said, looking SinB up and down. “Well, let’s hope you don’t lose; I doubt you have much to give,” SinB smirked at you and took her cards. Luck seemed to be on her side for a little while, as you had to give up your suit jacket and button-up shirt, leaving you in an undershirt. Her lucky run quickly ended, though, and soon, she lost her first hand; SinB huffed, pretending to be annoyed as she unzipped her skin-tight suit. She slipped one arm out and then the other; her bra pushed up her breasts, and she had to adjust her panties as she stepped out of her leather suit.  You were getting hard at the sight of the beautiful woman next to you, and SinB noticed; she let her hand run against your thigh more than a couple of times as you began another round.

SinB lost the next hand, too, and dropped her bra on the ground, leaving her in just her panties. SinB’s perky breasts captured everyone’s attention; her small brown nipples were hard, and she was ready to move on. She looked around, a sly smile on her face as she noticed how much attention she was getting. She was tempted to start fingering herself, but held off. She played one more round and lost her panties. SinB bent over slowly, making the process a long and slow one, you go to enjoy as you look at her clean-shaven cunt. “Well, that was fun, but I guess you lose.”

“I’m not done yet. One more game; if I lose, you can humiliate me and walk me around on a leash. I also have this:” SinB pulled out a cat tail, the end of which shone; it was an anal plug. “If I win, you all have to strip down and walk home like that.” 

You huff, “Alright, you're on.” You and SinB played on the last game; her hand was no good, a simple pair, while you ended up with a three-of-a-kind. SinB faked a sigh and grabbed the anal plug, spitting on it. 

“I’m going to need some help.” She said before bending herself over the poker table. You smirked and took the plug from her. You made sure it was well-lubed. Before you put it in her, though, you made sure SinB’s ass was ready. You coated your fingers in saliva and pushed them into her ass, making her moan in front of everyone. SinB couldn’t help but crack a smile; she was getting her ass fingered in front of everyone. You push your fingers deep into her ass, curling them and making SinB moan more before finally deciding to use the plug. You run the tip of it around SinB’s ass and begin pushing it in, watching as her puckered asshole stretches around it. “Mhm, ah, it’s big,” SinB said, pursing her lips as she felt her ass slowly expanding. She was getting wet; the pleasure she was getting from being plugged in front of everyone coursed through her body. You continued pushing, the resistance building and building until it was swallowed whole.

SinB felt full; when she shifted her weight, it moved around inside her. “Time for the leash,” you tell her, grabbing the leash she had brought and putting it around her neck. “SinB, let’s find a nice place to have fun.” The young woman was hoping for just that. She got onto her knees and crawled around the office, following you as you searched for a nice place to have fun with her.

While you walk SinB around the office, you spot Eunha, the bunny, having fun stuffing herself. You peeked into the room as she had both holes filled. You stayed a while, letting SinB watch as her friend was pounded from both sides. Eunha’s moans were muffled, too, as she slobbered over another cock in her mouth. Her bunny costume was torn, the cups she had used to cover her breasts were gone, her breasts were revealed and pushed up due to her corset, and her lower half was exposed with her stockings torn. Her skirt had disappeared at some point. 

The beauty rode their cocks roughly, loving the sensation of having each hole stretched and filled. The man below Eunha, Dohyun, was the first to blow, filling the idol’s pussy with his cum. You heard Eunha’s moans reach a new peak as she felt his hot semen pour inside her. Eunha’s walls instinctively tightened around Dohyun and Jiho, the employee in her ass. The pleasure must have been unimaginable as she continued to move her hips and forced Jiho to fill her ass. Still, Eunha continued moving her moans, making her throat vibrate around Juwon’s cock. She was smiling, reveling in the taste of his cum as it splashed on her tongue. Eunha popped him out of her mouth and stroked his cock, giggling softly. 

Her giggles soon turned into lewd moans as she felt Dohyun and Jiho slide out of her. Eunha stood up slowly, her legs shaky, as she watched the other employees waiting for their turn with the lovely woman. She smiled at them and bent herself over, spreading her cheeks for them. Eunha teased them, singing, “Who’s next?” and creating a rush for her. It wasn’t long before Eunha was getting stuffed again. Instead of riding, she was being used like a toy this time. Lifted between junior employees, Siwoo and Seojun, they bounced her on their cocks, taking turns thrusting and sending a constant flow of pleasure through Eunha. They gripped her body tightly, one holding onto her thighs while the other squeezed her breasts. 

You looked down at SinB. She was engrossed at the sight, licking her lips as she watched Eunha get closer to her climax. You turned back to Eunha, watching as the young woman threw her head back and moaned as she came on the employee's cocks; her thighs tensed, and she squeezed Siwoo’s sides; her arms went over her head and clung to Seojun’s neck as she let the pleasure flow through her body. The two continued to thrust into her, though, reveling in the pleasure her body was providing them. 

Eunha’s moans continued to flow through the building as she took their cocks. She could feel them rubbing against each other through her thin walls; their hands wandering her body gave her more pleasure. She felt Seojun’s hands move across her breasts, flicking her nipples before moving on. As she whimpered, Eunha felt his hands return to her nipples; he pinched and pulled them, making her cry out in pleasure.

She was going to cum again; she felt the tension in her body as they continued to thrust into her; they were dragging her body down, forcing their cocks deeper. Eunha felt their cocks begin to throb, and she knew what was coming and began to beg, “Cum inside, cum inside me!” She pleaded until she felt their cum shoot into her body. She exploded on them the second she felt them cum; She curled her toes as the pleasure wracked her body. Siwoo pulled out immediately after; Eunha was barely able to stand, but she got some help in the form of another employee offering her cock. She smirked before quickly taking it into her mouth. Two other cocks  came by, and Eunha took them by the hand, stroking them as Seojun began moving inside her again.

You thought that was enough watching and moved onward, leading SinB and developing a small crowd. SinB glanced at everyone looking at her and felt herself growing wetter. You tugged on her leash, making her whimper, and took her to the practice room. You stood SinB up and pressed her against the pole. You untied her leash and brought it around her hands, wrapping them tightly around the pole. She looked back at the crowd and knew what would come; she smiled shyly at them. 

You move your hands down SinB’s sides, stopping at her waist, where you tighten your grip, digging into her skin. SinB moans and looks back at you. “Look forward,” you command before smacking her ass. SinB yelps and does as she’s told, looking forward. She can see herself in the mirror. 

You pull your cock out, ready to take her, but give SinB a few more seconds to look at herself, surrounded by people who wanted to ravage her and her in the middle, cat ears on her head, and an anal plug cat tail, the only thing she had on. Her mouth was open, about to say something, when you pushed yourself inside her needy cunt. A moan came from SinB’s lips as you went deeper; her walls flexed around your cock, holding you tightly. You pressed SinB against the pole and dug your nails into her waist. She moaned loudly for the crowd, giving them all a reason to cheer. You began to thrust into SinB, and her walls clung to you. 

SinB held the pole and pursed her lips, her eyes scanning the crowd as she watched them masturbating to the sight of her being fucked. She couldn’t help but smile, her body tingling as she imagined them coating her body in their cum, as she imagined them painting her face. 

You brought SinB’s mind back into the action, wrapping her hair around your hand and pulling back. “Yes, yes, yes,” SinB cried out, loving every second of what was happening. You move one of your hands up and knead SinB’s tit, drawing more moans from her. SinB’s legs were growing weak as you continued to thrust, her walls squeezed down on your cock tightly as she got closer to her orgasm. You pushed SinB against the pole, using it to keep her up as you moved quickly, driving yourself as deep as you could. SinB’s cat ears fell off her head, and her moans grew louder until she let out a roar. Her body shook as she came on your cock.

You were close to cumming, only needing a little more, so you continued to thrust. You let go of SinB’s hair and pulled at her plug, making her groan as she felt it stretch her ass. You continued to pull on it and thrust into her, driving SinB crazy. Pleasure filled her body, and she was on the verge of another climax. Your continued tugging of the plug was causing her mind to blur as she felt it inch out of her until it eventually popped out, and when it did, she came. SinB squirted, her nectar splashing onto the floor as you buried yourself inside her and filled her cunt with your cum. SinB weakly held onto the pole she was tied to; as you pulled out and let her go, she collapsed to the floor, kneeling in a puddle of her cum.  

You took a step back, and some of the others took a step forward, jerking themselves off as they got closer to SinB. She raised her head slowly and glanced at their hard cocks before looking at their faces. She shut her eyes and stuck out her tongue, letting them coat her face in their semen. They helped SinB to her feet, and one of the employees took a marker and marked the idol, one; as the next person began to fuck SinB, they marked her again, two. SinB could feel them writing on her body, but she didn’t mind; she loved the attention, and getting to know just how many people used her would turn her on later. 

You leave them to their fun and head to the bathroom to clean up. You step inside, and the moment you do, you hear moans from one stall. It was a familiar moan to you; the voice was Umji’s. You peer between the tiny gaps in the stall and see the young woman furiously fingering herself and groping her breasts. Considering you could hear Eunha’s and SinB’s muffled moans, there was little doubt in your mind that she was getting off on hearing them have sex.

You move into the stall next to Umji’s; it wasn’t the first time fun was had in this bathroom. When Soyou was around, she enjoyed using it for her own benefit. While you intended to clean yourself up, you figured Umji would love to do it for you. You push your cock through the hole and wait. Umji’s moans died down soon enough, and you felt her hand around your cock, stroking it slowly as she got you hard. “You found me,” she says softly. “Congratulations. Let me give you your reward.”  Umji leaned forward and wrapped her lips around the head of your cock. She swirled her tongue around it, tasting the mixture of SinB’s nectar and your cum. Tasting her member on your cock makes Umji’s body grow hot. She snakes her hand down her body and touches herself, sliding her fingers between her folds as she bobs her head and takes in more of your cock. 

You groan and push yourself against the stall, relishing the pleasure Umji’s skilled tongue gives you. Her lips form a seal around your cock, and her cheeks hollow out. Umji toys with you, going from taking every inch of your cock to sucking only on the head and running her tongue around it. “Umji,” you groan, your climax quickly approaching. 

“Cum whenever you want. I’m ready,” she says before continuing to suck you off. Umji rubs the tip against the inside of her cheek as she strokes your shaft. You let go of the tension building inside and cum in Umji’s mouth; she drinks it with ease and continues sucking on your cock, using her tongue to clean it before finally popping you out of her mouth.

You imagine the satisfied smile on the cute woman next door and decide to take things further. You walk over to Umji’s stall and open the door, getting a good look at her. Saliva was running down the young woman’s chin onto her modest breasts, and her thighs were slick with her juices. The red panda makeup she had on was fading away. Umji looked at you before her eyes wandered south and stuck on your cock. She bit her lip before looking into your eyes. She spreads her legs for you, wanting you just as much as you wanted her. You step into her stall and slide your hands under Umji’s thighs, gripping them and lifting her. She yelps and wraps her arms around you as you walk over to the sink and place her there. Once there, she begins giggling and reaches down using her thumb to rub the head of your cock. “Do it; I’ve been waiting all night,” she says with a devilish smile. You deliver, sliding yourself into Umji’s cunt. She leans back and smiles, finally getting to know what the others were getting. You feel the Umji’s cunt stretch around your cock as you stuff her. Moans continued flowing from her lips as she felt you fill her. “Ah, yes!” she cries out as you bottom out and knock against her womb.

“You’re so tight, Umji,” you groan as you try to pull out of the idol. Her tightness makes you crave more, though. You grab her hips and thrust into her in one smooth motion. Umji throws her head back as she feels you tear through her; she grips the sides of the sink, her moans echoing in the small room. You pull out again and thrust into the young woman; she moves her arms to your neck, wrapping them around you. 

“More, please, more.” She whines before kissing you fiercely. You hold her in place as you begin thrusting. Umji’s small body provides you with tons of pleasure; her kisses make you desire her more. You start to move like a piston, ramming your cock into her quickly. She cries out in pleasure and clings to you. “Fuck me!” she begs you, reveling in the feeling of being fucked without a care. 

You slap her ass, making her grit her teeth, “Keep going.” You spank her again as you pound her tight body. Umji peppers you with kisses; her make-up rubs off on you the longer this goes. 

Umji’s moans eventually attract the attention of others, and they find you fucking the idol. “You’ll have to wait your turn,” Umji moans, looking at the employees with lustful eyes before focusing back on you.

Umji wraps her legs around you, using her legs to push you in deeper. You squeeze Umji’s thighs and focus on the way her walls clamp down on your cock. “Cum inside me, cum inside,” Umji says breathlessly before kissing you again.  You bury yourself inside Umji cumming inside her as she wishes. You paint her walls as you fill her womb with your cum. Umji keeps her legs locked around you, keeping you inside until she’s taken every drop of cum from you. Only then does she let you go. Umji rests against the sink mirror, your cum dripping onto the floor as it leaks out of her. You let the next man take Umji and walk out, listening to her moans. 

There was a difference.

Jihyo had said assigned silence until the first checkpoint, and somehow, by sheer force of Park Jihyo existing, everyone had obeyed.

Mostly.

Ryujin had obeyed in spirit, which meant she had not spoken but had communicated several criminal thoughts through facial expressions alone.

Yuna had lasted eleven minutes before silently writing activity notes in her vacation notebook with the intensity of a woman planning a government program.

Lia had watched her do it, sighed once, and taken the pen away twice.

Chaeryeong had spent most of the drive making sure the snack bags were evenly distributed, which became less about logistics and more about survival once Momo’s van pulled beside ours at the first stop and Momo looked through the tinted window with terrifying food awareness.

Yeji sat beside me. Her hand had found mine ten minutes after we left the parking level. No one commented. That was how I knew they were tired. Or plotting. Possibly both… definitely both.

By the second hour, the silence order had dissolved into low conversation.

By the third, Ryujin had fallen asleep with sunglasses still on, which somehow made her look more suspicious.

By the fourth, Yuna had renamed the retreat six times.

By the fifth, Lia had threatened to throw the notebook out of the window if the phrase “Hostile Wellness” appeared one more time.

“It’s not a title anymore,” Yuna protested from the back.

“It is on the page.” “It’s a concept.” “It’s a felony with spa access,” Lia said.

Ryujin, without opening her eyes, raised one hand “I vote felony with spa access.” “No one asked you,” Yeji said. “I live here emotionally.” “You live everywhere emotionally,” Chaeryeong murmured.

Ryujin opened one eye “That was sharp.”

Chaeryeong immediately looked down “Sorry.” “No, keep going. I like vacation Chaeryeong.”

Chaeryeong hid behind a snack bag. I looked toward Yeji. She was trying not to smile. I noticed. Of course I noticed. She noticed me noticing “Don’t,” she said. “I didn’t say anything.” “You were about to.” “I was about to say you look happy.”

Her expression softened before she could stop it. Then she looked out the window “I am.”

That stayed with me longer than it should have.

Outside, the city had thinned into long roads, guarded turns, and stretches of coast that looked too clean to be casual. Eventually, the vans turned away from the public highway and onto a private access road lined with tall trees and security posts so discreet they looked decorative until you noticed the cameras. Yuna leaned forward “Are we arriving or being abducted luxuriously?”

“Both can be true,” Ryujin said. Lia looked out the window “This is… really private.” Chaeryeong shifted closer to the glass “There are no other cars.” “Good,” I said. Yeji looked at me “That sounded expensive.” “Privacy usually does.” “That did not make me feel better.” “It was not meant to.”

The first gate opened before our vans fully stopped. Then the second. Then a third, hidden behind a curve of palm trees and stone walls. By the time the resort finally appeared, even Ryujin sat up properly. The place did not look like a hotel. It looked like someone had taken a private beach, erased the rest of the world from around it, and built a quiet kingdom along the water.

White villas sat apart from each other along the coastline, spaced far enough that no balcony looked directly into another. A private road curved through landscaped gardens toward a central pavilion of glass, wood, and stone. Beyond it, the beach stretched out in pale sand and blue water, empty except for staff preparing shaded lounges beneath the trees.

No crowds, visible guests, camera flashes, distant fans, or noise— except the ocean.

For a moment, no one spoke. Then Ryujin whispered “Okay. This is rich-rich”. Yuna pressed both hands to the window “This is not a retreat. This is where villains recover after losing the first movie”. Chaeryeong’s mouth opened slightly “Is this all for us?”

“For two weeks,” I said. The van went quiet. Yeji turned toward me slowly “Ben”. I looked out the window “Yes?”

“How expensive is this?” “That depends on how you define expensive.” Lia closed her eyes “Bad answer.” Yuna pointed at me “That is a tax bracket answer.”

The van stopped near the private reception pavilion. The doors opened. Warm air, salt wind, and sunlight spilled in. TWICE’s van had arrived just ahead of us, and they stepped out one by one into the brightness.

Nayeon took off her sunglasses and stared. Sana clasped both hands in front of her chest. Dahyun looked around like she was searching for the hidden production crew. Jeongyeon crossed her arms, suspicious. Momo looked toward the dining pavilion first. Tzuyu looked at the beach quietly. Chaeyoung smiled to herself. Jihyo stepped out last, already assessing the entire venue like a leader who did not believe in relaxing until the building had earned her trust. Mina stood beside her, calm as ever.

That was unfair because this was partly her fault. John got out of the van looking like a man who had survived a long drive only to be financially attacked by architecture. He looked at the resort. Then at me. Then at Mina “No.”

I frowned “What now?” “This is not a wellness retreat.” Mina looked at him “It has wellness facilities.” “This is a private country with towels.”

Nayeon walked closer, eyes still moving across the resort “So… nobody else is here?” A staff member approached at a respectful distance but did not stare. That helped. A little.

Sana’s smile softened, but her eyes stayed careful “No guests?” “No public bookings,” Mina said.

The group turned toward her. Mina adjusted the strap of her bag “This resort does not operate through normal channels. There are no public listings, no standard reservations, no casual walk-ins, no press access, and no guest overlap unless approved in advance.”

Dahyun lowered the invisible microphone she had almost raised “That sounds illegal.” “It is not,” Mina said. I added, “It is just expensive.” John looked at me “That is not a defense.” “It is often the explanation.” Jeongyeon looked toward the beach “And staff?” “Vetted,” I said. “Rotations locked. Phones restricted on working areas. Social posting prohibited by contract. Security handles perimeter access. Internal routes are separated.”

Jihyo’s eyes narrowed “That was too detailed.” “Privacy requires detail.”

Yeji stepped closer to me. Her voice dropped just enough “Ben.” I looked at her “What?” “Invoice.” I immediately looked away “No.” Jihyo turned toward Mina “Invoice.”

Mina looked at Jihyo, then at me. Then calmly opened her phone “Mina,” I said. She ignored me. John exhaled “I knew it.” Yeji held out her hand “Show me.”

“It is already paid,” I said. “That is not what I asked.” “Technically, Mina paid half.” Mina nodded “Split evenly.”

Jihyo took the phone first. She looked at the screen. Her face did not move. That was worse than screaming. Nayeon leaned over her shoulder. Then froze. Sana looked. Her smile dropped. Dahyun looked. Her imaginary microphone slowly lowered to her side. John saw the number and made a sound like someone had unplugged him from life support. Yeji took the phone last. She stared. Then stared longer. Then looked at me “Benjie.”

I stood straighter “Yes?” “This is the price of every seat in an arena concert.” Ryujin’s mouth dropped open. Yuna turned toward the resort “We are sleeping inside a sold-out concert?” Chaeryeong whispered, “For two weeks?” Momo looked concerned “Is food included?”

Everyone turned toward her. She blinked “What?” I nodded “Yes. Food is included.” Chaeryeong visibly relaxed. Mina added, “Food, staff, security, medical standby, private venue access, route control, and emergency contingencies.”

Jihyo handed the phone back to Mina slowly “Emergency contingencies?” “Standard,” Mina said. John pointed at her “For who?” “For people like us,” Mina said. He stared “That did not help.” Yeji looked at me “There are staff bonuses on here.” “Yes.” “Why are there staff bonuses?” “So they remain happy.” Jihyo closed her eyes “You bribed the resort staff into emotional loyalty.” “I prefer incentivized discretion.” “That is bribery with better lighting,” John said. Mina looked at him “It improves retention.” John looked physically pained “Why do both of you have the same money disease?”

I frowned “It is not a disease.” Yeji looked at me I corrected myself “It is a condition.” “That is worse,” Lia said. Yuna looked around the resort again, this time with a different kind of awe “So we can really… relax?”

The question softened the air. Because beneath the jokes, there it was. The thing none of them wanted to ask too loudly. Can we stop watching ourselves? Can we stop checking the corners? Can we laugh too loud? Can we walk outside without calculating exits? Can we exist without being consumed?

The ocean moved quietly beyond the pavilion. I looked at Yuna first. Then at Lia. Chaeryeong. Ryujin. Yeji. Then at TWICE “Yes,” I said. “That is the point.” Mina’s voice came softer beside me “For two weeks, this place is yours. Not publicly. Not symbolically. Functionally.” Jihyo looked at her. Mina continued “No press. No guests. No overlap. No staff access beyond assigned areas. If anyone tries to breach the perimeter, security sees them before they see you.” That helped more than the luxury did.

I saw it happen. Not all at once. Not completely. But enough. Nayeon’s shoulders dropped. Sana looked toward the beach like she was letting herself believe in it. Dahyun tucked her phone deeper into her bag without being told. Jeongyeon exhaled. Tzuyu smiled faintly. Ryujin pulled off her sunglasses. Yuna lowered her notebook. Lia looked at the water and said nothing. Chaeryeong held the snack bag a little tighter, but her face softened. Yeji stood beside me. Like the room inside her had finally opened a window.

A resort manager approached and bowed “Welcome. Your villas are ready.” John muttered, “Of course there are villas.”

“There are multiple groups,” Mina said. “I understand the concept. I’m reacting to the price.”

The staff led us down a private stone path toward the villa cluster. The resort opened wider as we walked. Private pool. Beach access. Outdoor dining pavilion. Spa building. Training room. Cinema lounge. Garden paths. A kitchen large enough that Chaeryeong made a small noise under her breath. Momo heard it. Momo looked at the kitchen. Then at Chaeryeong. Something like alliance passed between them.

Jihyo noticed and immediately looked concerned “Do we need kitchen rules?” “Yes,” John said. Momo blinked and Chaeryeong looked down “Maybe.” The room assignments became a separate diplomatic event.

Jihyo wanted structure. Nayeon wanted chaos. Sana wanted “organic bonding.” John said the word organic had become dangerous. Mina provided a villa map. Yuna immediately tried to improve it with activity zones. Lia took the pen away again. Eventually, the arrangement settled into something survivable. TWICE had one large villa wing closest to the garden path. ITZY had the connected wing facing the beach. John had a separate manager’s suite near the central office, which he claimed was for operational oversight.

Nayeon called it cowardice. Jihyo called it practical. Mina had a quiet villa near the end of the path with the best view and enough distance to make John suspicious. I had a room in ITZY’s wing. That alone should not have been a problem. Naturally, it became one. Ryujin looked at the room list. Then at Yeji and then at me. Slowly. “You two are sharing?” Yeji’s face changed by one degree. Leader mode tried to save her. It failed “For logistics,” she said.

Yuna leaned in “Logistics.” Lia closed her eyes “Do not.” Chaeryeong looked down, already smiling. Nayeon appeared behind Ryujin with terrifying timing “Honeymoon logistics?”

Yeji turned pink “No.” Sana appeared beside Nayeon “Wife privileges?”

“No.”

Dahyun lifted one finger “Room assignment confirms ongoing title dispute.” Jihyo pointed at her “No reporting.” Dahyun lowered her hand. I took the key card from the staff member.

“There are enough rooms for everyone to be comfortable. Yeji and I can switch if needed.” Yeji looked at me. The room went quiet. She took the key card from my hand “No.” Everyone froze. Yeji held the card, face warm but voice steady “It’s fine.” Nayeon smiled. Ryujin’s eyebrows rose. Yuna covered her mouth. Lia looked away to hide a smile. I looked at Yeji. She did not look back immediately. That was how I knew she knew exactly what she had done.

Jihyo, mercifully, clapped once. “Unpack first. Meeting in the dining pavilion in one hour. No wandering alone until security finishes the final perimeter confirmation.” Ryujin raised her hand “What if wandering is emotionally necessary?”

“Then wander with witnesses.” Yuna raised her notebook “What if I need to inspect activity zones?” “Later.” Momo raised a hand “Food?” Chaeryeong lifted her bag “I can help check the kitchen.” Jihyo looked between them, then sighed “Thirty minutes. Supervised.”

Momo smiled. Chaeryeong looked like she had been given a sacred mission. The group scattered in pieces. Laughter down one path. Bags rolling over stone. Staff moving quietly around us. The ocean following everything. For the first time, the noise did not feel trapped in a room. It had somewhere to go.

Yeji walked beside me toward our assigned villa. Neither of us spoke at first. The path curved past low greenery and opened toward a private terrace facing the water. Our room sat at the edge of the ITZY wing, close enough to everyone to be reachable, far enough to feel separate.

Yeji unlocked the door. The room opened into warm light. Wide bed. Soft curtains. Private balcony. Ocean view. A couch near the window. A bathroom too large to be reasonable. Fresh flowers on the table. Our luggage already placed neatly near the closet. And silence. Actual silence.

The door clicked shut behind us. For the first time since morning, there was no one else. No paperwork. No John suffering in the corner. No Ryujin listening through the walls. No Nayeon weaponizing the word ‘wife’ from ten feet away. Just the room. The ocean. Our bags by the door, and Yeji standing very still in front of me.

I looked around “Not bad,” I said. “Does my wife approve?” I meant it as a joke. Mostly. Yeji turned around slowly. The look on her face made every surviving thought in my head stop moving “Say that again.” I blinked “What?” Her eyes stayed on mine as she stepped closer. Close enough that I felt the shift in the air before I felt her hand against my shirt “You keep doing that,” she said softly “Doing what?”

“Calling me that”. My throat went dry “Jokingly.” Yeji’s mouth curved. Not quite a smile or a warning. Something worse. Something private “Do you know how hard it was for me not to pounce on you every time you called me your wife in front of everyone?”

The room went quiet. Or maybe I did. Because Yeji had stepped fully into my space now, one hand resting against my chest, close enough to feel the temporary ink beneath the fabric “And then you had the nerve,” she whispered, “to put my name here.”

I looked down at her hand. Then back at her “You chose the font.”

“I know.” “You chose the hearts.” Her fingers curled into my shirt “I know.” “Yeji.”

Her eyes lifted to mine, steady and bright and dangerous “You kept making me blush in front of everyone,” she said. “So now you can deal with me without an audience”. I swallowed. “Is this leader mode?”

“No.” She stepped closer “This is me, making good use of wife privileges.”

The silence of the room didn't just feel like a lack of noise. It felt like a vacuum, pulling the air out of my lungs until the only thing left to breathe was the scent of Yeji—something like vanilla, salt, and a sudden, electric heat.

She didn't give me a chance to answer. She didn't give me a chance to joke. Yeji stepped forward, her movements devoid of the hesitation that usually governed her public persona. She didn't just enter my space; she annexed it. Her hand, which had been resting on my chest, suddenly tightened, her fingers curling into the fabric of my shirt with a strength that bordered on desperation.

"You think you're so clever," she whispered, her voice dropping an octave, vibrating against my skin. "All those little comments. All those looks. Do you have any idea what it does to me? To have to stand there, the leader of the group, pretending I'm not vibrating out of my skin because you're treating me like I belong to you?"

I opened my mouth to say something—probably a joke about how she seemed to be enjoying it—but the words died in my throat. Yeji’s eyes were dark, the pupils blown wide, swallowing the iris. There was a hunger there that I had only ever seen in flashes, hidden behind the professionalism and the poise. Now, it was a wildfire.

"I spent the whole drive thinking about this," she murmured, her breath hot against my lips. "Thinking about a place where I didn't have to be the one holding everything together. Where I could just... take."

Then she kissed me.

It wasn't a gentle invitation. It was a collision. Her lips slammed into mine with a ferocity that knocked me back a half-step, her tongue immediately forcing its way past my teeth to claim my mouth. She tasted like the mint she’d been chewing and a deep, visceral need. We exchanged saliva in a messy, desperate rhythm, the sound of our mouths meeting—a wet, slapping noise—filling the quiet room.

Yeji’s hands didn't stay still. While her mouth worked mine, her fingers flew to the buttons of my shirt. She didn't unbutton them so much as she ripped them, a couple of small plastic discs pinging off the wall as she tore the fabric open to get to my skin. I groaned into her mouth, my hands finding her waist, pulling her flush against me. She was relentless, her nipples peaking through her clothes, pressing into my chest.

"Clothes," she breathed, breaking the kiss for a split second, her voice a jagged edge. "Get them off. Now."

She didn't wait for me to comply. She pushed me backward, her kisses migrating to my jaw, then my neck, biting down on the sensitive cord of muscle there. I stumbled back, my heels catching on the edge of the luggage, but she used the momentum to keep me moving. We drifted across the room in a chaotic dance of limbs and friction. Yeji was a whirlwind, her hands diving into my waistband, shoving my trousers down with a frantic energy.

I managed to kick my shoes off, one of them hitting the nightstand with a thud, while she worked on my underwear. She didn't just slide them off; she peeled them away, her eyes never leaving mine for more than a second. When I was finally standing there, completely naked and shivering despite the warmth of the room, Yeji stepped back.

She didn't look away. She looked at me—really looked at me—from the line of my shoulders down to the heavy, pulsing length of my cock, which was already leaking a bead of pre-cum.

"Finally," she whispered.

With a sudden, forceful shove, she pushed me down onto the bed. I hit the mattress with a soft huff, the white linens cool against my back. Yeji stood over me, her silhouette framed by the golden light filtering through the curtains. Slowly, with a deliberate, erotic precision, she began to strip.

She reached for the hem of her shirt and pulled it over her head in one fluid motion, tossing it blindly toward the corner of the room. Her breasts were perfect, small and firm with aroused nipples. I reached up, my fingers itching to touch her, but she stepped back, a small, commanding smile playing on her lips.

"Wait," she commanded.

She slid her trousers down, the fabric whispering against her skin. She stepped out of them, leaving her in nothing but a pair of lace panties that left nothing to the imagination. The sight of her—the curve of her hips, the softness of her belly, the way her thighs trembled slightly—made my blood roar in my ears. She reached back, hooking her fingers into the lace and sliding the fabric down her legs.

She stood there for a heartbeat, completely nude, her skin glowing in the afternoon light. She looked like a goddess, but the expression on her face was entirely human. She looked hungry.

Before I could even reach for her, before I could utter a single word of praise, Yeji climbed onto the bed. She didn't crawl; she prowled. She moved over me, her knees flanking my hips, and then, with a sudden shift in weight, she pivoted.

She lowered herself directly onto my face.

The air left me in a rush as the wet, hot folds of her pussy pressed firmly against my mouth and nose. The scent hit me instantly—musk, arousal, and that singular, intoxicating Yeji-smell. I could feel the heat radiating from her, the slickness of her juices already soaking into my skin.

She gasped, her voice strained as she shifted her weight, sliding down my body until her face was positioned perfectly between my legs. "I've wanted this since the moment we left the city." The world narrowed down to the sensation of her. I pressed my tongue upward, finding her clit, swirling around the tiny, engorged bud of pleasure. Yeji let out a loud, guttural moan that vibrated through my entire skull. At the same time, her mouth closed around me.

She didn't just suck; she worshipped. Her tongue wrapped around the head of my cock, swirling in a tight, rhythmic circle before she slid her mouth down the shaft. The suction was intense, a vacuum of heat and saliva that made my toes curl. I could hear the wet, shlicking sounds of her tongue working against my skin, the squelch of saliva as she took as much of me as she could handle.

I responded by burying my face deeper into her. I used my tongue to part her lips, delving deep into the creaminess of her center. She tasted sweet and salty, a flood of arousal that coated my tongue. I flicked my tongue rapidly against her clit while sucking on the soft flesh of her inner thighs.

Yeji’s breathing became a series of erratic, high-pitched whimpers. She was shaking, her hands gripping my thighs so hard her nails dug into my skin. The rhythm intensified. Her mouth was a furnace, her tongue dancing over the frenulum, while I worked my way deeper into her, my tongue mimicking the thrusts she would eventually want.

"Ben... Ben, I'm... I'm close," she wailed, the sound muffled by my lap.

She shifted suddenly, pulling away from my cock and sliding back up. She didn't move off my face; instead, she sat directly on it, her weight pressing her pussy firmly against my mouth, sealing us together. She arched her back, her chest thrusting toward the ceiling, her head falling back as the first wave of orgasm hit her.

I could feel her muscles contracting against my lips, the rhythmic pulsing of her walls as she came. A flood of hot, thick juices drenched my face, the taste of her climax filling my mouth. Yeji screamed—a raw, unfiltered sound of release that echoed through the room.

The sight and feel of her coming on my face, the sheer vulnerability and power of it, snapped something inside me. The tension that had been building for months, the longing, the frustration—it all converged into a single point of explosion.

I bucked upward, my hips surging with a violent force. I came with a power that felt like a physical blow, my cum spraying upward in thick, hot jets. Because of the angle, the force sent the white fluid flying, splashing across Yeji’s stomach and chest, and spraying directly across her face.

She gasped, her eyes snapping open as the warm liquid hit her cheeks and forehead. We stayed like that for a moment, locked together, breathing in sync, the room smelling of sex and salt.

Yeji didn't move for a long time. Then, slowly, she shifted, sliding off my face and rolling onto her side. She looked at me, her eyes hazy and pupils still wide. She raised a hand, her thumb wiping a streak of my cum from her cheek.

She didn't wipe it away in disgust. She looked at the white fluid on her thumb, then slowly brought it to her lips and licked it clean, her eyes locked on mine with a predatory intensity.

"Stay still," she whispered.

She moved with a purpose now, her movements slower but more deliberate. She guided my cock, which was already beginning to stir again, toward the entrance of her pussy. She didn't just slide on; she teased the head against her folds, rubbing the slickness of her own juices and my cum across her lips.

"It's time for the wife to give her husband what he deserves," she murmured, her voice a low, sultry purr.

She lowered herself slowly, the friction causing a wet, squelching sound that echoed in the quiet room. I felt my head disappear into her, the tightness of her walls gripping me like a vice. Yeji let out a long, shaky breath, her eyes closing as she settled fully onto me, her cervix meeting the head of my cock.

"Oh god," she whimpered. "You're so... you're so deep."

She began to move, her hips rotating in a slow, grinding circle. I reached up, my hands finding the swell of her breasts, squeezing them as she rose and fell. The sound of our bodies meeting—the slap of her ass against my thighs—became the only rhythm in the world.

Yeji was vocal, her moans turning into passionate, loving declarations.

"I love you," she gasped, her voice breaking. "I love you so much, Ben. I've wanted this... I've wanted you inside me for so long."

She increased the pace, her movements becoming more urgent. She wasn't just riding me; she was claiming me. She leaned forward, her breasts brushing against my chest, her sweat mingling with mine. I could feel her internal muscles clamping down on me with every downward thrust, drawing me deeper into her heat.

As she approached her second climax, she didn't pull away. Instead, she leaned down and captured my lips in a kiss that felt like a seal of ownership. She put both of her hands on my face, framing my jaw, her fingers digging into my cheeks, refusing to let go. She held me there, her gaze locked on mine, as the orgasm ripped through her.

I felt her walls spasm violently, squeezing the life out of me. My own hand slid down, gripping the curve of her ass, pulling her down hard against me, while my other hand stayed at the back of her head, holding her close. We rode out the wave together, the intimacy of the moment far outweighing the physical pleasure.

When she finally collapsed against me, her breathing ragged and her skin flushed a deep pink, she stayed there for a long time. She felt soft, spent, and completely satisfied.

"I'm... I'm done," she whispered into my neck, her voice trailing off into a contented sigh. "I think... I think the wife has made the husband happy. Maybe we should... go meet the others for dinner."

I felt a shift in my own chest. Watching her like this—undone, vulnerable, and utterly devoted—flipped a switch in me. The softness was gone, replaced by a sudden, towering hunger. I didn't want to stop. I wanted more. I wanted to see her break again.

"Not so fast," I whispered, my voice sounding deeper, even to my own ears.

Yeji blinked, looking up at me with a confused smile. "What?"

"You used the wife card to get your way," I said, my hand sliding from her ass to her waist, gripping her firmly. "Now it's time for the husband card. The wife deserves more pampering after all that hard work she's done."

Before she could protest, I gripped her hips and flipped her over. She let out a small, surprised yelp as I moved her onto her hands and knees. I didn't stop there. I guided her further, pressing her chest down into the mattress while keeping her hips high, her legs spread wide.

I entered her from behind, but I didn't just slide in. I angled my body, lifting one of her legs up and over my hip, creating a steep, deep incline. This was a variation of the *Indrani* position from the Kama Sutra, designed for maximum depth and contact.

As I thrust forward, I felt myself hit her G-spot—the sensitive area that had become hyper-responsive after her previous orgasms.

Yeji’s reaction was instantaneous. She let out a scream that was barely human, her back arching violently.

"Ben! Oh my god, Ben!"

The pleasure was too much. She began to shake, her movements mirroring the overstimulation Ryujin often described. Every thrust felt like an electric shock, a wave of intensity that threatened to drown her. She was moaning loudly now, the sounds raw and desperate, her fingers clawing at the sheets.

"Too much... it's too much!" she wailed, but she pushed her hips back against me, demanding more.

I didn't let up. I hammered into her, the sound of our bodies colliding filling the room with a rhythmic, visceral thud. I could feel her internal walls fluttering, pulsing around me in a frantic attempt to absorb the pleasure. She was hovering on the edge of a third, massive climax, her voice reduced to fragmented whimpers.

"Please... please, Ben... give it to me... all of it!"

I felt the pressure building in my gut, a tidal wave that I could no longer hold back. With one final, deep surge, I buried myself as far as I could go, pinning her against the mattress.

I came inside her with a force that made my entire body shudder. I could feel the hot, thick pulses of my seed filling her, the warmth spreading through her core. Yeji let out a final, long moan, her head falling forward as she collapsed into the bed, her body still twitching from the intensity of the release.

We lay there in the wreckage of the room, the curtains fluttering in the breeze, the ocean calling from the balcony. The silence returned, but it was different now. It wasn't a vacuum; it was a sanctuary.

Yeji shifted, rolling over to look at me. Her hair was a mess, her lips were swollen, and her eyes were filled with a softness that made my heart ache. She looked embarrassed for a fleeting second, remembering how aggressive she had been, but then she smiled—a real, genuine smile—and pulled me close.

"I think," she whispered, her voice barely audible, "I really like these wife privileges."

For a second, I forgot how to answer. Not because I did not have a joke. I had several. All of them terrible. All of them dangerous.

But Yeji was looking at me with her hair ruined, her lips swollen, her skin still warm against mine, and that tiny embarrassed smile caught between pride and disbelief. The kind of smile she only gave when she had surprised herself first.

So for once, I did the smarter thing. I kissed her. Softly this time. No urgency. Just my mouth against hers, slow enough that she melted into it instead of trying to win. Her hand slid up my chest, fingers brushing over the place where her name was still hidden beneath my shirt somewhere on the floor, and she laughed quietly against my lips.

“What?” I asked. Her cheeks colored “I’m thinking.” “That sounds dangerous.” “It is.” I smiled “About?” She hid her face against my neck “No.” “Yeji.” “No.” “Wife privileges?”

Her hand hit my chest weakly.

“Don’t ruin it.” “I’m not ruining it. I’m appreciating the policy.” “There is no policy.” “There are clearly benefits.” She groaned into my skin “I hate you.” “No, you don’t.”

Her silence lasted too long. Then, very quietly, she said, “No. I don’t.” That did something to me. More than the teasing. More than the way she had said wife earlier like it belonged in her mouth. More than the tattoo. I wrapped my arms around her and pulled her closer until she was lying half on top of me, her cheek against my chest, one leg tangled between mine. The room had gone still again, but this time it did not feel empty. It felt protected.

Outside, the ocean moved beyond the balcony.

Inside, Yeji traced idle shapes against my skin. For a while, neither of us spoke. That was new. Not because we had nothing to say. Because for once, nothing needed defending. Her breathing slowed first. Then mine followed. I pressed a kiss into her hair, and she made a small sound like she wanted to complain but did not have the strength to commit to it. “You okay?” I asked. She nodded against me.

Then, after a pause, she lifted her head “You?” “Yes.” Her eyes narrowed “That was too fast.” “I’m very okay.” “Ben.” I smiled “I am happy.”

That softened her. She looked down, embarrassed again, but this time she did not hide. “Me too.” I tucked a strand of hair behind her ear “You were very scary.” Her eyes flicked back to mine. “You deserved it.”

“I did.” “You kept calling me your wife.” “I did.” “In front of everyone.” “I did.” “And then you put my name on your chest.” “You chose the hearts.” Her mouth twitched “They were artistically necessary.” “Of course.” “And private.” “Apparently not, since John betrayed me with documentary evidence.” Yeji covered her face “I still cannot believe he showed everyone.” “I can. John is a wounded animal. He wanted collateral.”

She laughed. Soft and happy. Then she kissed me again. That one lasted longer. It started gentle, but Yeji had a way of making even softness feel like a decision. Her fingers found my jaw, holding me there as if I might escape, even though both of us knew I had nowhere else I wanted to be.

I kissed her back until she sighed into my mouth. Until her shoulders loosened. Until the leader finally stopped standing guard behind her eyes. When she pulled away, she stayed close enough for our noses to brush.

“For the record,” she whispered, “I am still your girlfriend.” “I know.” “Not wife.” “I know.”

She stared at me. I stared back. Then she added, quieter, “Yet.”

The word barely existed. But I heard it. My heart stopped so violently that it should have triggered the resort’s medical standby. Yeji realized what she had said and immediately tried to roll away. I caught her “Nope.”

“Ben.” “No. Come back.” “I said nothing.” “You said theology.” “I said one word.” “One devastating word.”

She buried her face against my shoulder “I hate this room.”

“This room has done nothing wrong.” “This room has heard too much.” “The walls signed an NDA.”

She laughed again, and I felt it against my chest. For a while, that was all we did. Cuddle. Kiss. Talk in fragments. Pretend we were not both trying to memorize what it felt like to be this quiet together. Eventually, Yeji’s hand drifted lower and found my wrist. She turned it slightly, checking the time.

Then went still.

I felt it before I understood it “What?” She lifted my wrist closer. Then her head snapped up “Ben.”

“What?” “We’re late.” I blinked “For what?” “Dinner.”

The word landed like a siren. We both moved at once. Badly. Yeji sat up too fast, winced, then pointed at me before I could comment “Do not.”

“I said nothing.” “You thought something.” “That is not illegal.” “It will be if you smile.”

I did not smile. Technically. She scrambled toward the edge of the bed, then stopped when she looked around the room. The room looked like it had lost an argument. Clothes on the floor. One of my shirt buttons near the curtain. A pillow halfway off the mattress. The blankets destroyed beyond reasonable explanation. Yeji stared. Then slowly looked back at me.

“We need to get clothed.” “We need to be at dinner.” “We need all three.”

She closed her eyes.

“We are doomed.” “Probably.” “Benjie.”

I got up. She grabbed a pillow and threw it at me. We managed to shower, dress, and make the room look less like a crime scene in record time. Not clean, but survivable. Yeji fixed her hair in the mirror with the focus of someone preparing for a comeback stage instead of dinner with women who already knew too much. I buttoned a fresh shirt all the way up because I had learned at least one lesson in the past twenty-four hours.

Yeji noticed.

“Good.” “I can behave.” “No, you can be managed.” “That sounds like wife work.”

She pointed the hairbrush at me “Do not start.” I smiled. She tried not to, she failed. We were twenty-three minutes late. Which was not ideal. But also not catastrophic. Until we reached the dining pavilion and the entire table went silent. That was catastrophic. Every head turned. ITZY. TWICE. John. Jihyo. Mina.

Even Momo stopped eating.

That, more than anything, told me we were in danger. Yeji straightened beside me. Damaged, but functional “Sorry we’re late.”

No one spoke.

Then Ryujin leaned back in her chair and smiled. Slowly “Oh?” “No,” Yeji said immediately. Ryujin’s smile widened. “I didn’t say anything.” “You were about to.”

Yuna looked between us, eyes bright with the kind of joy only danger could produce “You both look very… rested.” Lia closed her eyes “Yuna.”

“What? I said rested.” Nayeon leaned forward, chin in her hand “Rested is generous.” Sana smiled sweetly “Glowing?” Yeji’s face turned pink “We lost track of time.” John stared at me “You lost track of dinner?”

“Apparently.” “You?” “I was busy.”

The table inhaled as one organism. Yeji’s head whipped toward me.

“Ben.” “What? With unpacking.”

Dahyun lifted her imaginary microphone “Breaking news: local couple claims unpacking after arriving twenty-three minutes late to dinner.” “I did not claim couple,” Yeji said. Mina looked at her plate “You did not deny unpacking.” Yeji turned toward Mina, betrayed “Mina.” “It is a factual gap.” Ryujin pointed at the two empty seats “Sit down before this gets worse.” “That sounds merciful,” I said. Ryujin smiled “It is not.”

We sat. Unfortunately, sitting did not help. Because the silence kept smiling at us. Chaeryeong, who had clearly been trying very hard not to participate, looked at Yeji with gentle concern “Unnie, are you okay?” Yeji froze. The table froze with her. I looked at my water. Cowardly, but necessary. Yeji cleared her throat “Yes.”

Ryujin’s eyes sharpened “Physically?” “Ryujin,” Lia warned. Yuna leaned forward “Private resort does not mean subtle resort.”

Yeji closed her eyes. I stopped breathing. Jihyo slowly lowered her utensils “What does that mean?” Lia looked at Yuna “Do not.” Yuna looked at her “They were not quiet.”

The table detonated.

Yeji covered her face. I stared into the middle distance and accepted death. Nayeon slammed both hands on the table “I knew it.” Sana gasped like she had just witnessed romance itself walk into the room. Dahyun’s imaginary microphone returned instantly “Breaking news: honeymoon logistics confirmed by acoustic evidence.”

“It was not honeymoon logistics,” Yeji said through her hands. Ryujin leaned toward her “Unnie.” “No.” “You screamed.” “Ryujin!”

Momo blinked. Then looked at John “Is that what we heard?” John choked on his drink. Jihyo closed her eyes “Do not answer that.” Nayeon turned to John anyway “Manager-nim.”

“No.” “You never did that when we arrived somewhere.” “I am begging you not to compare arrival protocols.” Sana tilted her head “Why not?” “Because that phrase already sounds illegal.” Jeongyeon crossed her arms “Ben arrives at a resort and immediately treats his wife properly.” Yeji’s face went fully red “I am not his wife.” Tzuyu looked at her calmly “But the room heard otherwise.”

The table exploded again. I covered my mouth. Not because I was embarrassed— because if I laughed, Yeji would kill me. Lia, somehow, tried to restore dignity “Maybe we should let them eat.”

“Thank you,” Yeji said weakly. Lia nodded, then added, “They probably need energy.”

Yeji stared at her. Lia took a sip of water, expression perfectly calm “Traitor,” Yeji whispered. Ryujin looked delighted “Vacation Lia is dangerous.” Yuna nodded “She has timing.” Nayeon pointed at John “See? Even Lia understands the standard.” John looked betrayed by the entire world “I drove for hours. I handled logistics. I survived Ben. I deserve peace.” Jihyo looked at him “You also streamed his tattoo video to everyone.” John paused and then nodded “I deserved that part.”

Dahyun lifted her imaginary microphone again “TWICE files formal complaint: lack of honeymoon-grade welcome treatment.” John pointed at her “No filing.” Sana smiled “Just verbal complaint.” Momo raised her hand slightly “Can dinner still continue during the complaint?” Chaeryeong immediately nodded “Yes.”

“Good,” Momo said, and returned to eating. Mina looked toward me “Was the room satisfactory?” Yeji made a strangled sound. John put his head in his hands. I stared at Mina “The room was excellent.” Mina nodded “Good.” Nayeon grinned “Apparently.” Yeji grabbed her glass of water and drank like it was the only thing keeping her alive. I leaned closer to her, lowering my voice “You okay?”

She did not look at me “No.” “Do you want me to stop them?” “You cannot stop them.” “That is true.”

Her eyes flicked toward me. Then down to my shirt. Still buttoned. Still hiding everything. Her voice dropped “If you show even one letter at this table, I will push you into the ocean.” I smiled faintly “Yes, my dear wife.”

She kicked my ankle under the table. Hard. I deserved it. Unfortunately, Nayeon saw “She kicked him.” Sana gasped “Domestic.”

Dahyun lifted the microphone “Breaking news: wife disciplines husband at dinner after honeymoon scandal.” Yeji pointed at Dahyun “No more breaking news.” Dahyun lowered her hand “For now.” Jihyo finally clapped once “Enough. Let them eat.” The authority in her voice worked… Mostly.

People returned to their plates, but the table stayed lighter now. The kind of laughter that did not need to be loud to keep circling back. Yuna kept smiling into her food. Ryujin kept glancing at Yeji like she had discovered a new favorite weakness. Lia looked too pleased with herself for someone who had pretended to be the voice of reason all morning. TWICE, meanwhile, continued punishing John in smaller ways.

Nayeon asked if he needed “arrival training.” Sana suggested a retreat workshop. Dahyun offered to document improvement. Jeongyeon said he could start with eye contact and work his way up. Momo said dinner first. Tzuyu quietly added that expectations had now been established.

John looked at me across the table “I hate you.” I lifted my glass “You should have taken notes.” The TWICE side erupted. John pointed at me “You are the problem.”

Yeji, still pink, still embarrassed, still glowing in a way everyone could see, reached under the table and found my hand. No one saw that part. Or if they did, they were kind enough not to say anything. For once.

Yeji’s fingers threaded through mine. I looked at her and she did not look back. But her thumb brushed once over my knuckles. A private answer in the middle of a public execution. The first dinner of the retreat continued around us. Too full of people who knew too much and somehow, for the first time since we arrived, it felt exactly like what we had come here for.

It wasn’t peace, not yet. But release. A place where embarrassment could become laughter. Where privacy did not mean silence. Where Yeji could be late to dinner, red-faced and furious, and still have her hand in mine beneath the table.

Across from us, Ryujin leaned toward Yuna and whispered something. Yuna’s eyes widened. Lia immediately said, “No.”

“I didn’t say anything,” Ryujin replied. “You were about to.”

Chaeryeong smiled into her plate. Momo reached for another serving. Nayeon started bothering John again. Jihyo pretended not to enjoy it. Mina quietly checked the dessert options. And Yeji, my not-wife girlfriend, the leader with wife privileges, squeezed my hand once more. I smiled into my glass. Dinner was late and the vacation, apparently, had started properly.

Dinner lasted longer than it should have. Not because anyone was still hungry. Momo was, obviously, but that was a separate condition.

 Dinner lasted because nobody wanted to be the first one to admit they were tired. The first night of the retreat had settled over us slowly, warm and salt-heavy, with the ocean breathing somewhere beyond the lights of the dining pavilion. The staff had cleared most of the plates. Dessert had appeared without anyone asking. Mina had approved the plating with one quiet nod, which somehow made the chef look more relieved than when Jihyo thanked him.

Eventually, the table broke apart into smaller pieces. Not groups exactly. More like currents.

Momo and Chaeryeong drifted toward the kitchen with a seriousness that suggested diplomatic negotiations over breakfast. Yuna cornered Dahyun and Sana with her activity notebook, which immediately made Lia stand up with a sigh and follow them like a woman trying to prevent a recreational felony. Ryujin and Nayeon had started whispering again, and John noticed too late. “No,” he said from across the table.

Ryujin looked offended “We have said nothing.” “That is usually when the damage starts.” Nayeon smiled “Manager-nim, you wound me.” “I am trying to prevent being wounded.”

Jihyo stood, folder tucked beneath one arm, and looked toward Yeji “Can I borrow you for a minute?” Yeji looked up from beside me “For logistics?”

“For logistics,” Jihyo said. Sana appeared behind Jihyo, smiling too brightly “And wife privileges.” Yeji’s face went red immediately “No.” Nayeon lifted one hand “Emotional logistics.” Dahyun raised her imaginary microphone “Breaking news: senior leaders convene to discuss honeymoon noise policy.” Jihyo pointed at her without looking “No.” Dahyun lowered her hand “For now.”

Yeji turned toward me, still pink, still trying very hard to look like this was a normal dinner and not a public trial “I’ll be back.”

“I’ll survive.”

Ryujin snorted “Barely.” Yeji gave her a look, then leaned closer to me just enough for only me to hear “Behave.” I smiled “You first.” Her eyes narrowed. The wife voice almost came out. Then she seemed to remember where we were and only shook her head, but her fingers brushed mine under the table before she let go.

It was small, private, more importantly— enough.

Then TWICE took her. Not aggressively. Worse, playfully. Nayeon hooked an arm through hers. Sana took the other side. Jihyo walked ahead like this was an actual strategy meeting and not Yeji being escorted to a tribunal. Mina followed behind them, calm as ever, and said something about the morning schedule. Yeji glanced back once. Not worried. Not possessive. Just checking. I gave her a small nod. She rolled her eyes like I had done something annoying. Then smiled before turning away. That smile stayed with me after she disappeared down the garden path with them.

For a while, I remained at the table. John sat across from me, watching TWICE drag Yeji away “That,” he said, “is how it starts.”

“What?”

“First they ask for logistics. Then they ask for feelings. Then somehow you are apologizing for things you did in a hypothetical future.” I looked at him “You speak from experience?” He stared into his drink “I speak from survival.”

Across the pavilion, Ryujin laughed too loudly at something Nayeon said from a distance despite not even being part of that conversation anymore. Yuna was arguing that “optional midnight bonding” was different from “mandatory midnight bonding.” Lia had taken the notebook and was holding it above her head while Yuna tried to reach for it.

Chaeryeong returned from the kitchen with Momo beside her, both looking strangely satisfied. The first night was loosening. The kind of loosening that came from realizing nobody had tried to take a picture of them for hours.

Nobody had shouted their names from beyond a barricade. Nobody had watched them eat through a screen. I stood before the feeling could get too large. John noticed “Where are you going?”

“For air.” He narrowed his eyes “No cigarettes.” I looked at him “Yeji said the same thing.” “Good. I like being alive.” “I’m not smoking.” “Good.” “If I was, I wouldn’t tell you.” “Bad.”

I left before he could continue. The path beyond the pavilion curved toward the beach. Lights were hidden low among the stones, soft enough not to ruin the night sky. The resort was quiet in a way the Top Floor never could be. The Top Floor had silence, sometimes. But it was city silence. Elevator silence. Glass-wall silence. Money pretending to be peace.

This was different. This was ocean and darkness and distance. I stopped near the edge of the sand, where the stone path gave way beneath my shoes. The wind moved warm against my face. For the first time that day, I did not immediately think about logistics.

Then a voice behind me said, “You really didn’t smoke.”

I turned. Lia stood a few steps away, holding two cups. Her hair was loose around her shoulders, her expression quiet in the way it became when she had decided to say something before she was ready. I smiled faintly.

“Were you checking?” “Yes.” “At least you’re honest.” “I brought tea as a cover story.” “That is more suspicious than just checking.”

She looked down at the cups. Then back at me “It’s good tea.” I accepted one “Thank you.” She moved beside me, leaving enough space that it did not feel accidental, but close enough that it did not feel distant either. For a while, we watched the water.

The sound of the others drifted faintly from the pavilion behind us. Laughter. A muffled shout from Yuna. Jihyo’s voice cutting through something with leader precision. Yeji laughing after that, small and embarrassed and happy.

Lia heard it too. Her eyes softened “She sounds different here.”

“Yeji?”

Lia nodded “Lighter.” I looked toward the lights “She deserves to be.” “She does.”

The words were simple. But the way Lia said them was not. I looked at her. She was still watching the water, both hands wrapped around her cup. “And you?” I asked.

Her mouth curved faintly “I knew you would ask that.” “Should I not?” “No.” She took a breath “You should.”

The wind moved between us. Lia looked down into her tea like it might offer instructions.

“I thought coming here would make things quieter,” she said. “Has it?” “A little.” Then she smiled, but it was tired “Also no.”

I waited. That was something I had learned with Lia. If you filled the silence too quickly, she would let you. She would nod, soften, make room for everyone else’s words. But if you waited, sometimes she gave you something real.

She did this time “I have feelings for you,” she said quietly.

I did not move. Not because I was surprised. Because I knew this sentence had cost her more than she wanted anyone to see. Lia’s fingers tightened around the cup “I know that’s not new. Not exactly. I think I’ve known for a while. I think everyone else probably knew before I wanted them to.”

A small laugh escaped her. Embarrassed and soft “But knowing and doing something about it are not the same.”

“No,” I said. “They’re not.” Her eyes lifted to mine. That was the dangerous part. Not the confession. The looking. Lia could hide in careful words if she wanted to. But her eyes had always been worse at lying “I don’t want to be left behind,” she whispered. My chest tightened “Lia.”

“I know no one is doing that to me.” she shook her head gently, stopping me before I could reassure her too fast.

“I know. That’s not what I mean.”

She looked back toward the pavilion. Toward the people laughing under warm lights. Toward the life that had somehow become too complicated to name simply “I just mean… everyone is moving. In their own way. Yeji knows where she stands. Ryujin acts like fear is something she can flirt with until it gives up. Yuna is scared and still jumps anyway.”

Her voice softened “And Chaeryeong…” She paused. I watched her. Lia did not finish that thought. Instead, she looked at me again “I’m not like them.”

“You don’t have to be.” “I know.”

But again, her voice trembled enough to reveal the problem. Knowing was not believing. Not fully. Lia set her tea down on the low stone wall beside us. Then she stepped closer. Not much. Enough that I noticed. Enough that she noticed me noticing. Her breath caught, and for one second, I thought she might step back. She did not.

“Can I try something?” she asked. My voice came out lower than I expected. “Yes.”

She searched my face “You don’t know what it is.” “I trust you.”

That almost broke her.

I saw it in the way her eyes softened too quickly, in the way her lips parted around a breath she did not release. Then Lia reached for me. Her hand touched my arm first.

Careful. Testing. Then slid down to my wrist, like she needed something smaller than my face to hold onto before she could be brave enough for the rest. I stayed still. Lia stepped closer again. Then she kissed me.

It was not like Yeji. Not collision. Not fire finally finding air. Lia’s kiss was quiet. Deliberate. A question asked with trembling courage. Her lips touched mine softly, then pressed a little firmer when I did not pull away. Her fingers tightened around my wrist. For one second, she seemed to freeze inside the decision she had made.

Then I kissed her back. Carefully. Slow enough that she could stop me. Soft enough that she could stay. Lia made a tiny sound against my mouth. Not surprise, it was relief.

That sound nearly undid me more than anything else could have. Her other hand lifted, hovering near my chest. For a moment, she almost touched me there. Almost pulled herself closer. Almost crossed from kiss into something larger.

Then she stopped.

Her fingers curled in the air before they reached me. Not away. Just short of more. I felt the hesitation like a held breath between us. So I kept still. Careful “Lia.” Her eyes opened. Soft. Startled. Like she already knew what I had seen.

“You don’t have to force yourself.” Her hand lowered slightly “I know.”

But her voice said she was trying to. Not because she did not want this. Because she did. Because wanting it made her feel like she had to keep proving she was ready for all of it at once. I covered the hand holding my wrist with mine. Not to keep her there. Only to let her feel that she could let go without losing anything.

“I’m not going anywhere.”

Lia looked at me for a long moment. The ocean moved behind her. The pavilion laughter carried faintly through the trees. Then she exhaled, almost laughing. Almost breaking.

“That’s the problem.” I smiled faintly “Is it?”

Her eyes dropped to my mouth again. Then back to mine.

“No,” she whispered. “Not anymore.”

But she did not move further. And I did not ask her to. For tonight, this was enough. Her choice. Her kiss. Her stopping point. And the first time she did not run from wanting more. Lia leaned forward after a moment and rested her forehead lightly against my shoulder. It was so gentle that it almost hurt “Is this okay?” she asked.

I looked down at her “With me?” “With Yeji.”

The question was quiet. Important. I turned my head toward the pavilion lights. Yeji was still somewhere beyond them, probably being emotionally tortured by Nayeon and Sana while Jihyo pretended not to enjoy it.

I smiled softly “She knows you matter to me.” “That’s not an answer.” “It is.”

Lia lifted her head. I met her eyes “And if you need to hear the other part, I will talk to her. Properly. Not because this was wrong. Because you deserve not to carry uncertainty by yourself.”

Lia’s face changed. Not fully relieved. But steadier.

“Okay.” “Okay?”

She nodded. Then, after a second, she leaned in and kissed me again. Shorter this time. Still soft. But less afraid.

When she pulled back, her cheeks were pink “That’s enough for tonight.”

I smiled “Okay.” “Don’t sound proud of me.” “I’m not.” “You are.” “I am a little.” She groaned and looked away “That is embarrassing.” “It is also true.”

Lia picked up her tea again, but her hand was steadier now. We stood there for another minute, shoulder to shoulder, watching the water. Just letting the first step be exactly what it was.

From the pavilion, Yuna’s voice suddenly rose “Lia?” Lia closed her eyes “I am going to throw that notebook into the ocean.” I laughed “She found you.”

“She always finds me when she needs supervision.” “Do you want to go back?”

Lia looked at the water. Then at me. Then she smiled, small and tired and real “In a minute.” So we took one more minute. The retreat continued behind us. But out here, beneath the night air, Lia had crossed the smallest line in the quietest way. And somehow, that made it feel larger than if she had run.

By the time I returned to the villa, the resort had gone quiet in pieces. Not asleep. Not fully. Somewhere beyond the garden path, I could still hear faint laughter from the pavilion. Yuna’s voice rose once, immediately followed by Lia saying something that sounded like a warning. Ryujin laughed after that. Then the ocean swallowed the rest.

Our room was dim when I stepped inside.

Only the balcony light was on.

Yeji sat outside with one knee drawn up beneath her, wearing one of my shirts like she had every right to steal from my suitcase. Her hair was loose now, brushed soft over one shoulder. The night wind moved through it gently.

She did not turn around immediately. That was how I knew she knew. Not everything. But enough. I closed the door behind me. Yeji looked over her shoulder.

“Hi.”

Her voice was soft. Not suspicious. Not angry. Just awake.

“Hi.” I said back.

I walked toward the balcony, slower than I needed to. Yeji watched me the whole way.

“You were gone for a while.” “I know.”

She turned back toward the ocean. I sat beside her, leaving a careful space between us at first. Yeji noticed. Of course she did. After everything that had happened today, she still noticed the smallest distance.

“Ben.”

I looked at her. Her expression was calm, but her eyes were too clear for me to pretend badly.

“What happened?”

I exhaled.

“Lia kissed me.”

Yeji did not move. The ocean filled the silence for a few seconds. Then she nodded once. Small. Controlled.

“Okay.”

I waited. Because okay did not mean finished. It meant she was making room for the rest.

“She found me by the beach,” I said. “I went out for air after dinner. No cigarette.”

Yeji glanced at me.

“Good.” “I thought you would ask.” “I was going to.”

That almost made me smile. Almost.

“She said she has feelings for me.”

Yeji’s face softened by a degree.

“She said it?” “Yes.” “That must have been hard for her.” “It was.”

Yeji looked down at her hands.

“Did she force herself?”

That question hit me harder than jealousy would have. Because of course that was the first thing Yeji asked. Not whether Lia touched me. Not whether I kissed her back. Not whether she should be upset. Whether Lia had pushed herself past what she could handle.

“No,” I said quietly. “But she almost tried to.”

Yeji’s eyes lifted to mine.

“She kissed me first,” I continued. “I kissed her back. Carefully. She reached for more, then stopped herself.”

Yeji listened without interrupting.

“I told her she didn’t have to force herself.”

Her shoulders loosened. Just slightly.

“That was the right thing to say.” “I hoped it was.” “It was.”

The certainty in her voice settled something in me. I leaned back against the balcony chair and stared out at the dark water.

“She asked if it was okay with you.”

Yeji looked at me. I turned back to her.

“I told her I would talk to you properly. Not because it was wrong, but because she deserves not to carry uncertainty by herself.”

For a while, Yeji said nothing. Then she reached across the small space between us and took my hand. Her fingers slid between mine, warm and steady.

“Thank you for telling me.”

I looked down at our hands.

“I always will.” “I know.”

Her thumb moved once over my knuckles.

“But I still appreciate it.”

That somehow hurt more than being scolded. Yeji looked at the ocean again.

“I’m not angry.” “I know.” “Do you?”

I looked at her. She smiled faintly, but it was tired.

“I wanted to know,” I admitted. “Not because I thought you would be cruel. I know you wouldn’t. But because this is… a lot.” “It is.” “And it keeps getting bigger.” “Yes.” “And somehow I keep standing in the middle of all of you, trying not to ruin something I don’t even fully understand yet.”

Yeji’s grip tightened.

“You’re not standing in the middle alone.”

I looked at her. She looked back. In that way that still felt too undeserved to name carelessly.

“You came back and told me,” she said. “That matters.” “I will always come back and tell you.” “I need that.” “I know.”

“No.” Her voice dropped softer. “I need you to know I need that. Not because I don’t trust you. Not because I think Lia did anything wrong. But because silence makes stories when people are scared.”

That line stayed in the air between us.

“Then no silence.” “No silence,” she repeated.

I lifted her hand and kissed her knuckles. Yeji watched me do it, expression softening despite herself.

“She has been standing at the edge for a while,” she said. “Lia?”

Yeji nodded.

“I think she knows what she feels. She just doesn’t know how to move without feeling like one step means she has to take all of them.” “That’s what it felt like.” “Then don’t pull her over.” “I won’t.” “Let her step.” “I will.”

Yeji turned her face toward the water again.

“She deserves that.” “She does.” “And if she stops, let her stop.” “I did.” “I know.”

Her voice gentled “That is why I’m not angry.”

I looked at her for a long moment. Then something in me broke open quietly. The kind of feeling that arrived without asking and sat directly in the center of my chest.

“You know,” I said, “every time I think I understand how much I love you, you make it worse.”

Yeji blinked. Her cheeks colored “Ben.”

“I mean it.”

She looked down, but I did not let myself stop. Not this time.

“I don’t know how to explain this without sounding insane.” “That has never stopped you before.” I smiled faintly “Fair.”

Her thumb brushed my hand again. So I tried. “Everything around us is complicated. Everyone matters. I care about them. I don’t want to lie about that. I don’t want to diminish it because that would be unfair to them, and it would be unfair to you too.” Yeji stayed quiet. Listening. “But my heart keeps finding you first.” Her breath caught. I looked at her properly. “No matter how loud the room gets. No matter who needs me. No matter what happens with anyone else. I come back to you in my head before I even know I’m doing it.”

Yeji’s eyes softened. “You’re the place I return to,” I said. “Not because you demand it. Not because you hold it over anyone. Because you keep choosing me even when you could make this harder. You keep choosing honesty over jealousy. You keep choosing kindness toward them when it would be easier to make everything smaller so it hurts less.”

Her eyes shone now. She looked away quickly, but I saw it. I always saw her. “That does not make me perfect,” she whispered. “I don’t need perfect. I need you.”

She turned back to me. The words had landed. I could see it in the way her face changed, embarrassment and tenderness fighting for space. “I love them in the ways this life has made possible,” I said quietly. “But I love you like home.”

Yeji’s mouth trembled slightly “Do not say things like that if you don’t want me to cry.”

“I can stop.” “No.” I smiled “No?” She shook her head once “No.” So I leaned closer “I love you, Yeji.”

Her eyes closed for a second. Like she needed to hold the words somewhere safe before answering. Then she opened them and looked at me “I love you too.”

Simple. Barely above a whisper. Enough to undo me. I cupped her cheek. She leaned into my hand without hesitation. For a moment, neither of us moved. Then she said, very softly:

“I’m still your girlfriend.” “I know.” “Not your wife.” “I know.”

Her eyes narrowed faintly “But…” I waited. Her cheeks turned pink again “But if you keep being honest with me like this, I might keep letting you get away with calling me that.” I smiled slowly “That sounds like a policy.”

“It is not a policy.” “Wife privileges?” She groaned “Do not ruin the emotional moment.” “I would never.” “You are actively doing it.” “I love you.”

She tried to glare. Failed immediately. Then she leaned forward and kissed me. Loving in a way that made the rest of the night quiet around us.

I kissed her back with both hands careful at her waist, not pulling too hard, not asking for more. Just holding her there. Letting the kiss be what it needed to be after everything else the day had carried.

When she pulled away, her forehead rested against mine.

“I’m glad you came back,” she whispered. “I always will.” Her eyes stayed closed “Good.” “Because my wife would be annoyed if I didn’t?”

Her eyes opened. She stared at me. Then, despite herself, she smiled “Yes,” she said. “Very annoyed.” I laughed quietly. She kissed me again before I could make it worse.

Eventually, we went back inside.

The room was still softly lit, the bed still imperfect from earlier, the ocean still moving beyond the balcony doors. Yeji turned off the light while I pulled the blanket back. She climbed in first, then immediately reached for me like the conversation had left her too tender to pretend she did not need contact.

I joined her.

She settled against my chest, one arm across my waist, her leg tucked between mine. I wrapped myself around her and pressed a kiss into her hair. For a while, she traced lazy circles against my side. Then her hand drifted to my chest. To the place beneath the fabric where her name still rested in temporary ink.

She did not say anything. She only left her hand there. I covered it with mine. Yeji exhaled softly “Tomorrow,” she murmured, half-asleep already, “no chaos.”

I closed my eyes “Of course.”

A pause. Then, from somewhere deep in her fading consciousness

“That sounded fake.” “It was a little fake.”

Her tired laugh warmed my chest.

“Good night, Benjie.” “Good night, Yeji.”

She shifted closer. Still mine. Still herself. Still choosing me. And for the first time since the retreat began, the silence did not feel like something waiting to be broken.

Despite Yujin’s beauty, she got turned on by sleeping with these hideous creatures. As the leader of IVE, she had been expected to be polished and put-together at all times. She had to sing well, dance well, and also represent the group properly. As a Kpop idol, she was, after all, expected to be a good example to the youth. While she was a good leader, well-loved by her members and vice versa, she often thought about escaping the need to be perfect all the time.

That was when she discovered Role Play (RP) Studio. It was probably one of the best-kept secrets in Seoul. You got to choose from a selection of scenarios to role play, and they would pay you a hefty amount to entertain their highly imaginative and demanding clients. Though, if Yujin were being honest with herself, the large sum of money she was getting was only a small part of what made RP Studio so great. She was actually into it for the simple fact that she could lose herself and get absolutely wrecked by some ugly motherfuckers.

Today, she was playing the role of a nurse who gets raped by a horny old grandfather patient. She had donned a cute little pink dress and a nurse’s cap with a cross, complete with flimsy white stockings and shiny patent shoes. The old man in his hospital bed had asked her to “assist” him at first, which meant giving him a sponge bath. This involved lifting up his hospital gown and feeling around for his floppy, wrinkled penis. She’d then stroked and stroked it until it thrummed to life with all the energy of a young teenager. The shaft had been burning hot and extremely hard in her hands. Yujin had then pretended to be shocked when the old man showed a sudden surge of strength, jumping out of the hospital bed and pushing her onto a wheeled metal trolley. As she laid down, he’d stripped off her nurse outfit, plus ripped off her stockings to boot—thus exposing her massive pale udders to the world.

———

With a sudden surge of energy, the old man pushed Yujin back to the hospital bed. Yujin squealed as his lips covered hers, making out with her restlessly as he groped and manhandled her large, perky tits. Before she could even realize what was happening, the old man was inserting the bulbous cockhead of his penis into her weeping, gaping hole once more. “Again!” he demanded, his breath hot on her ear.

Yujin squealed as he entered her cum-filled pussy and thrust deep inside. His lengthy cock pushed past her narrow passage, forcing itself past her cervix and into her womb. Her huge white breasts bounced wildly with every jerky thrust as he railed her, the fat head of his penis jutting against her insides.

“Fuck, grandpa! You’re in so deep again!” Yujin cried out, moaning loudly. The old man’s ugly face scrunched up in pleasure, panting heavily as he pounded into her. The room filled once again with wet, obscene noises as he pummeled her poor pussy. He came hard, showering her insides with another thick load of semen, making her flat stomach bulge slightly from the sheer volume of his seed.

She leaves the Starship building alone. Bad move. Really bad move.

I follow at a distance, keeping to the shadows of the Seoul afternoon. She's got earbuds in, bouncing slightly to whatever bubblegum pop she's listening to. Doesn't notice me at all. That's fine. I like it when they don't notice until it's too late.

She heads to the mall. Perfect. Crowds, blind spots, underground parking. I've got all the time in the world.

I stay three to four people behind her as she wanders through the cosmetics floor. She stops at a lipstick display, leans in to look at shades. Her shorts ride up just slightly when she bends. I can see the curve of her ass, the way the fabric stretches. My cock twitches in my jeans.

She moves on to a café, orders some iced drink. Sits alone at a small table near the window. I take a seat two tables away, pretending to scroll through my phone. She glances at me once, then looks away. Doesn't register the threat. Stupid little idol. They think they're untouchable because they have fans.

I watch her sip her drink. Her lips are glossy. I imagine wrapping my hand around her throat, watching those lips part for air. Soon enough.

She finishes her drink, stands, and heads toward the restrooms. This is my chance. The hallway to the women's restroom is narrow, with a cleaning closet at the end. I follow, casual, until she pushes the door open. Then I wait.

She comes out five minutes later, wiping her hands on her shorts. I step into her path. She looks up, startled.

"Excuse me," she says, voice polite, trying to move around me.

I don't move. "You're Jiyu, right? From that group?"

Her eyes widen. "Um, yes? Do you want an autograph or—"

"I want a lot more than that."

I grab her wrist. She gasps, drops her phone. Before she can scream, I shove her into the cleaning closet, slam the door shut behind us. It's dark, cramped, smells of bleach and mop water. She's pressed against the wall, trembling.

"Please—please don't—"

I cover her mouth with my hand. "Shut the fuck up. You scream, I break your neck. Understand?"

Tears well in her eyes. She nods slowly.

I don't waste time. My hand slides down from her mouth to her throat, squeezing just enough to make her gasp. My other hand grabs her tit through that striped top. She's small, but there's enough there for me to grip. I squeeze hard, kneading the soft flesh.

She whimpers. Her hands push at my chest weakly.

"Don't," she whispers. "Please, I'll do anything—"

"You'll do anything I want," I correct her. "Now shut up."

I push her top up, exposing her bra. It's pale pink, lacy. I rip it down, and her nipples pop out, small and dark. I pinch one between my thumb and forefinger, twist hard. She cries out, but I clamp my hand over her mouth again, muffling the sound.

"That hurt?" I sneer. "Good."

I keep twisting, pulling, rolling her nipple between my fingers until it's swollen and red. She's shaking, tears streaming down her cheeks. I slap her tit, watching it jiggle. Then the other one. Her whimpers are music.

I drop to my knees, bite her nipple through the fabric of her bra. She jerks, tries to push my head away. I grab her wrists, pin them above her head with one hand, and bite harder, drawing a small gasp.

"Such sensitive little nipples for a slutty idol," I mutter, licking them both before pulling her bra back up. I'll play with them more later.

I stand, grab her jaw, force her head back. Her lips are trembling. I smash my mouth against hers, hard and bruising. She tries to keep her mouth closed, but I pinch her nose. She has to breathe, opens up, and I shove my tongue in. She tastes like that iced drink, sweet and fruity. I force my tongue deep, exploring her mouth, biting her lower lip hard enough to draw blood. She moans in pain.

I pull back, then shove two fingers into her mouth. She gags. "Suck," I order. She hesitates. I press my fingers deeper, hitting the back of her throat. She gags again, but starts sucking, her tongue moving awkwardly around my digits.

"That's it," I growl. "Get used to having something in that throat."

I pump my fingers in and out of her mouth, drool spilling down her chin. She's choking, eyes watering, but she doesn't dare stop. I keep going until I'm satisfied, then pull my fingers out, slimy with her spit. I wipe them on her hair.

"Now, time for a nap," I say.

I wrap both hands around her throat, thumbs pressing into her windpipe. She grabs my wrists, nails digging in, trying to pry me off. I squeeze harder. Her eyes bulge, her face turning red, then purple. She kicks, thrashes, but I'm too strong. I watch her struggle, her mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water.

"Shhh," I whisper. "Just relax."

Her movements get weaker, slower. Her eyes roll back. Her body goes limp. I hold for another ten seconds to make sure, then release her. She collapses against me, unconscious.

I catch her, hoist her over my shoulder like a sack of potatoes. She's light, maybe a hundred pounds soaking wet. Easy.

I radio my contact in the parking garage. "Got the package. Bring the van to the west exit."

Forty minutes later, we're in a soundproofed room I rented under a fake name. Concrete walls, a single mattress on the floor, chains bolted to the walls. I lay Jiyu on the mattress, still out cold. I take my time undressing her, peeling off that striped top, those tight shorts. Her body is perfect—smooth skin, small but perky tits, a neatly trimmed patch of hair between her thighs. I spread her legs, look at her pussy. Tight little hole. I finger it, feeling the warmth.

She stirs as I touch her clit. Her eyes flutter open, confused, then fill with terror as she realizes where she is, what's happening.

"Please—no—no, please—"

I slap her across the face, hard. Her head snaps to the side. "I told you to shut up."

I pull out the handcuffs, click them around her wrists, then chain them to a ring on the wall above her head. She's spread-eagle now, arms stretched up, legs I cuff to rings on the floor. Completely vulnerable.

She's crying openly, snot and tears mixing. "Why are you doing this? I didn't do anything—"

I crouch beside her, grab her chin. "Don't need a reason, bitch. Now I'm going to use that tight little body of yours for what it's meant for."

I start with slapping. Hard open-handed blows to her face, her tits, her thighs. Each slap leaves a red mark. She screams, begging between hits. I love the sound. I slap her pussy, making her jolt. Her clit is swollen and sensitive. I pinch it, rub it roughly, not to please her but to hurt.

I lean down, bite her nipple again, this time drawing blood. She howls. I suck the blood off, tasting copper. "Sweet."

I move down, spread her ass cheeks. Her asshole is tight, pink, untouched. I spit on it, rub it in with my thumb, pressing just enough to make her squirm.

"You're going to take my cock here," I tell her, pointing at her ass. "And you're going to take it like a good little whore."

"No—no—not there—"

I ignore her. I stand, unbuckle my belt, drop my jeans. My cock springs out, thick, dark, already hard. Nine inches, girthy. She sees it, her eyes widening in horror.

"You can't—it won't fit—"

"It'll fit. I'll make it fit."

I line myself up at her asshole, no lube but my own spit. She's screaming, thrashing against the chains. I slap her ass hard, leaving a handprint. "Hold still."

I push. The head breaches her tight ring. She screams, a raw, guttural sound. I push deeper, inch by inch, feeling her asshole stretch around my cock. She's sobbing, begging me to stop. I don't.

I bottom out, my balls slapping against her pussy. I pause, letting her adjust, but only for a moment. Then I start fucking her ass, slow and deep at first, then faster, harder. Each thrust pulls a scream from her throat.

"Fuck, you're tight," I groan. "Best ass I've had in months."

I grab her hips, slam into her, watching my cock disappear into her asshole. The sight is intoxicating. I reach around, grab her throat from behind, squeeze as I fuck her. She's choking, trying to breathe, but I don't let up.

I keep going until I feel the pressure build. I pull out, stroke myself, and shoot a massive load all over her ass, some dripping into her crack, some onto the mattress. She's crying, shaking.

"That's round one," I say.

I flip her onto her back, pull her legs up to her chest, pressing my full weight onto her. My chest crushes hers, my hips align with her pussy. I'm still hard.

"You're going to take it in the front now," I say, and without warning, I slam my cock into her cunt. She's dry, tight, and she screams as I force my way in. There's a slight resistance, then a pop as I breach her hymen.

Her eyes go wide. "You—you took my—"

"Your virginity? Yeah, I know. Lucky me."

I start pounding into her in the mating press, my weight pinning her down, my balls slapping against her ass with each thrust. She can't move, can't escape. Her breasts bounce with every impact. I lean down, bite her neck hard enough to leave a mark.

I fuck her like this for what feels like hours—deep, punishing thrusts that have her crying and moaning in pain. Her pussy starts to lubricate from the abuse, making it easier for me to slide in and out.

I feel the build again, but I don't want to cum yet. I pull out, flip her over onto her stomach, and enter her ass again. The pile driver.

I get her into the pile driver position—her ass up, her face down, head on the mattress. I stand over her, guide my cock into her ass from above, gravity helping me drive deep. She's just a hole for me to use. I hold her hips, fuck her hard from that angle, watching my cock slide in and out of her ravaged asshole.

After a dozen strokes, I switch to prone bone—laying on top of her, my weight pressing her into the mattress. I wrap an arm around her throat, pull her head back, and fuck her ass from behind, whispering in her ear.

"You're nothing but my little cum dump now. You understand?"

She's too broken to respond. Just gasps and moans.

I keep fucking her, and when I'm close, I stay inside her ass, letting my cum pump deep into her guts. I feel her body convulse as I fill her up. Then I pull out, watch a stream of my cum leak from her asshole.

I unlock the cuffs from the floor but keep her hands bound. I pull her to her feet, but her legs are weak, shaking. I grab her by the hair, spin her to face the wall. Bend her over.

"Hands on the wall. Don't move."

I kick her legs apart. Her ass is still dripping my cum. I line up again, this time at her pussy from behind, and shove in. She screams.

I fuck her standing, my hands gripping her hips, pulling her back onto my cock. Her tits bounce. I reach around, pinch her nipples, twist them. She cries.

"No more—please—I can't—"

"You can, and you will."

I keep going, then pick her up by her thighs, wrapping her legs around my waist. Carry sex. I'm strong enough to hold her easily. She has to wrap her arms around my neck or fall. Her bound hands cling to me.

I bounce her on my cock, fucking her in the air, her back hitting the wall. She's limp, barely conscious. I keep thrusting, my pace brutal. I'm close again.

"Cum with me," I growl, though I know she can't. I bite her shoulder, pump my load deep into her pussy this time, filling her cunt. She lets out a weak sob.

I drop her onto the mattress. She curls up, trembling.

I'm not done. I spread her out again, chain her arms and legs to the four corners. Spread eagle, fully exposed. Her body is covered in marks—handprints, bite marks, bruises. Her ass and pussy are leaking my cum. Her face is swollen from crying.

I take a photo with my phone. "For the collection."

Then I climb on top of her, position myself over her mouth. My cock is still coated in a mix of my cum and her juices. I tap it against her lips.

"Open up. You know what to do."

She hesitates. I slap her face. She opens her mouth, and I shove my cock in, deepthroating her until she gags. I hold her head, fuck her face, using her throat like a fleshlight. She's choking, tears streaming, but I don't care.

I feel the pressure building for the final time. I pull out just enough to shoot my load all over her face—her eyes, her nose, her lips covered in thick ropes of cum. She sputters, gasps.

"Swallow," I command.

She doesn't. So I scoop some off her cheek and shove it into her mouth, forcing her to swallow. She gags again but eventually takes it.

I sit back, admire my work. Her body is broken, used, covered in my marks and my cum. She's barely conscious, mumbling in Korean.

I gather my things, wipe down the cuffs, leave her there chained to the bed. She'll be found eventually. Or not. Doesn't matter to me.

I put my clothes back on, adjust my cock still half-hard. That was a good session. Best I've had in weeks.

The Chaewon incident that started this whole thing coming to mind, which you weren’t opposed to at all, considering the events that occurred afterwards. A few more surprises here and there with her closest friends with the other, the more recent one being Kazuha coming home, drunk off her ass along with the girls.

That was a rather interesting Friday night, you’ll say. Your body has never felt so sore in your entire life the next few days after.

Extremely worth it, for all intents and purposes however.

But, to your point, she doesn’t let you know about things that you would very much like to know beforehand. Like today, for example, when you come home from what you thought was going to be an ordinary Wednesday until—

“Hi!”

“Jesus–” This was not what you were expecting when you came home from work. Luggage bags left in your hallway, a woman that is most certainly not Kazuha sitting on your couch, sipping on one of your yogurt milk drinks as she waves at you. Which makes you question where Kazuha is. “Uh, hello?”

“You must be Kazuha's boyfriend.” The woman continues sipping on her drink, the loud slurps coming from the straw pausing as she smiles prettily at you. “She said you'd be here around this time, so I thought of saying hi.”

“Right.” You are, for all intents and purposes, extremely skeptical of this woman. Don’t know who she is, where she came from, why there’s so much of her shit scattered in your hallway. She’s just here, for reasons you have zero idea of. 

You walk to the kitchen counter, placing down your backpack before turning towards her. “Sorry, who are you?”

“Oh!” She practically jumps out of the couch, and skips straight towards you with a grin on her face. “Name’s Rei. Naoi Rei.” She outstretches a hand.

You take her hand and shake it gently, tell her your name and be answered with a cute little nod that you swear is not making you cringe on the inside or make your heart race from how adorable it was.

“So you are Zuha’s boyfriend!” she repeats, and before you could come up with a reply for it, the front door swings open once again.

“Looks like you two are getting along.” Kazuha's striding in, a shopping bag in one hand, and a small handbag in another. She stands next to you, smiling and leaning in to give you a peck on the lips before she hands the bag to Rei. “Here's some extra pillows you can use.”

Rei gasps, and you're confused on whether this woman's a walking adorable little thing or not because every action she does looks way, way too cute to be normal.

“Thank you so much, I'll pay you back before I leave,” Rei says, pulling out a pair of pillows from the bag, the paper falling down the ground.

“Don't worry about it,” Kazuha replies, placing her bag next to your pack, and you watch as Rei squeezes one of the cushions between her arm, picking up the bag on the ground and walking back to the couch with another thanks. 

Which leaves you with Kazuha. You turn to her, blinking slowly and giving her a pointed look. Your hands gesture towards Rei, who's gotten in her own world on the couch, setting up her makeshift bed on it. “So.”

“So,” Kazuha repeats, eyes following your hands. “That's Rei.”

“That is Rei, yes.” Your palms rest on your hips. “Why is Rei here with a bunch of luggage, exactly?”

“She’s asked if she can crash for a few days,” she explains, leaning her elbow on the kitchen counter. “Traveled all the way from Japan for some music festival this weekend.” Said Rei would be gone by Wednesday next week, Kazuha swears. “She won’t cause us any trouble, trust me.”

You turn your gaze back to Rei, legs up in the air while she’s hugging one of the pillows and scrolling down her phone. You can faintly hear the sounds quickly shifting from one topic to another as her thumb swipes up every so often. “And when you say trouble–” Queue your finger air quotes. “You mean she’s not going to be involved in one of your plans?”

Kazuha only smiles at you, hand rising up to pat your cheek fondly. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” There’s that familiar twinkle in your eye that you spot—one that you’re not sure whether to be excited or wary of what she’s cooking up—before she walks away.

Sighing and shaking your head, you take another look at Rei. Still busy with her phone, paying you no mind and not causing any trouble, just like Kazuha said.

You can’t help but add a ‘yet’, though.

—

Trouble, you’ve realized, decided to come in small batches over the course of the next few days.

Nothing that would get you arrested or caught in an indecent way, no. For the most part, it was you doing your usual routine with the added intrusion that Rei is living in your living room. And it causes a few odd encounters with her every now and again.

Like when Kazuha decided to jump you the following Thursday when you got home, kissing you right there in the doorway just as you opened the door to your apartment. And while it was an unexpected surprise that you would normally, wholeheartedly welcome with open arms, seeing Rei pretend that you and Kazuha are not sucking each other’s faces off wasn’t weird at all.

At least, not for Kazuha. It was odd as all hell for you when you realized that Rei was looking pretty earnestly until she got caught.

Or on Friday, where you swear to all manners of religion out there that you heard moaning outside your bedroom door when you woke up in the middle of the night because the bathroom was calling you. Suffice to say it was a quick run to and from the bathroom to avoid interrupting Rei’s potential ‘her’ time.

And you won’t lie, needing to be quiet in your own home because a guest was touching yourself was incredibly awkward, considering that’s not something anyone would ever stumble upon. Even more so when you were left alone on Saturday, when Rei was out at her festival, Kazuha coming along with her when Rei said her friend wouldn’t be able to make it.

“It’d be a great way for us to really catch up!” You remember Rei telling Kazuha before they left this morning. And for the most part, you kinda agree with her. The three of you never really seem to have a good time to sit down and hang out, outside of the two of them since they seemed rather close. You in particular, given that you’re mostly out on the weekdays that Rei started living in your apartment.

And as much as they wanted you to come with, the extortionist pricing to get tickets this late made all three of you exclaim profanities so loud that you were afraid of finally getting a noise complaint.

Aside from the rather relaxing afternoon you had cleaning up your home while watching the weekend motorsport race in an attempt to get rid of any lingering thoughts about Rei touching herself on your couch—one that you sat on for quite a while after doing the chores (you need to clean this couch soon)—and making some dinner for yourself after getting a text from Kazuha that they’ll be coming home late, you decided to call it early tonight and catch up with the two in the morning.

Which gets completely derailed when you wake up in the wee hours of Sunday, where you are awoken from the sounds that are coming from your living room. It causes you to groggily get out of bed, the intimate familiarity of your home allowing you to walk on autopilot even without fully opening your eyes.

Or have your senses wake up until you flick the light on to find Kazuha and Rei making out by the kitchen counter, the former practically shoving her tongue down the latter. 

You blink like an owl. Slowly, peculiarly, until the scene before you registers in your mind and you start looking like a deer in headlights. Then your brain finally catches up to what you’re seeing and—

“Well, good morning to you girls too.” Dragging a palm across your face, you decide to head over to grab a cup and fill it up with water. “Did you have fun earlier?”

Rei lets out a blissful hum, letting out a gasp as Kazuha leaves her lips to kiss down her neck. “Great,” she gasps, holding onto Kazuha’s locks. Rei lets out an even loud gasp when she gets hoisted up onto the counter by Kazuha, and even you were raising eyebrows at how assertive Kazuha is being tonight.

Or today, you’re not sure yourself. 

You take a good, long drink of your cup, downing it all in one go, a quiet, refreshed noise coming out of your lips before putting it down. You have half a mind to walk up and join in on whatever debauchery Kazuha’s planned, and another to go back to bed and let them have their fun, considering they’ve already started without you.

Kazuha might not even know you’re here, what with her buried completely in Rei’s chest, her hands pulling the jacket she has on away before her fingers begin to pull Rei’s top up to expose her chest and holy shit Rei being even more stacked than you thought was not in your bingo card.

Not that you were looking, of course. You were simply appreciating the times her cleavage was in display. Totally not looking down whenever you had the chance, no.

Your bro will never let you live it down. But then again, anyone would be happy to have their faces shoved full of tits, especially ones as big as Rei’s.

Kazuha included.

Speaking of, she’s finally gotten her head out of Rei’s tits and turns to you with a grin. “Hey.” Is all she says, like this is another Sunday for her (and for the most part, this was a normal Sunday before you two were a thing, the player that your girlfriend was. Still is.) “Had a good day doing nothing today?”

“I cleaned, thank you very much,” you answer, walking up next to her, arm wrapping around her waist and leaning in to give her a kiss on the cheek, like this is another Sunday for you. “I’m guessing this is how Rei is paying you back for staying?”

“Oh this was for the pillows I got her,” Kazuha says, taking your free hand and placing it on Rei’s bra-covered breast, and even with the fabric in the way you can feel how soft and large they are in your hand. Rei encourages you further, pushing her chest out for the both of you and your fingers can’t stop themselves from squeezing. “Now she’s paying us back with her pillows.”

“They are some very nice pillows,” you mutter, engrossed in the soft flesh.

Kazuha chuckles, a hand coming down to cup the bulge growing in your shorts, fondling you through your clothing. Her lips come close; kisses starting from your neck, journeying her way up to your cheek all the way until she can nibble your earlobe, cooing a question that you’ll ever answer. “Better than Kkura’s?”

Whether it be because you don’t want to hurt Rei’s feelings (especially cause you’re getting a feel of her tits), Sakura’s feelings when Kazuha eventually tells her (cause you know Sakura’s going to come barging in your apartment one night when she learns about it), or your own physical being, you can’t be sure. What you are sure of is that all three can be an option, but you’re too busy fondling Rei’s breasts to give Kazuha an answer anyway.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” Kazuha sing-songs, tugging your shorts down to your ankles. “Rei, be a dear and help me out here, why don’t you?”

“On it!” Rei’s hands come to the waistband of your boxers, and they end up right above your shorts. Your cock twitching and leaking and Christ her hands feel amazing stroking you so gently it makes you moan.

It makes Kazuha giggle; a sound that makes you fall deeper into this whole rabbit hole of fucking yet another one of her friends. “Excited now, are we bro?” And it’s like she’s reading your mind, even when she’s on her knees and looking at you with those doe eyes. Knowing that you’re just as turned on as she is, that you’ll be sharing Rei between the both of you.

That, or it could be the other way around and she’s sharing you with her friends.

“Well, don’t worry too much,” Kazuha continues, inching closer to your cock. “Let Rei and I take care of you for the night, hmm?” Her tongue gives a quick lick at your tip, making your thighs clench.

“Let me guess–” you exhale, glancing back to Rei. “Is this your thanks for letting you stay?”

“Nope!” she says, her entire face lighting up. She leans in and gives your cheek a quick peck then drops off the counter to follow Kazuha on her knees. “I’m doing this cause I’m so fucking wet right now.” Rei gives that same quick kiss to your tip, holding you by the base all while Kazuha watches by her side.

“Rei’s a little bit of a horndog,” Kazuha adds, nudging Rei lightly. Rei only nods in agreement, her tongue coming out to lick your shaft; from the tip going down to the base of your cock, she leaves no surface safe from her pretty pink muscle that’s eager to get you ready. “And she is very adventurous.”

“I can tell.” Just by the way Rei is worshipping your balls, taking each one in her mouth and rolling them with her tongue, sucking and licking away at them so goddamn well it makes you lean back onto the counter to brace yourself for when Kazuha inescapably joins in. “Christ, Zuha, you’re making me think you’ve fucked all your friends.”

“Not all of them,” Kazuha snaps back, a smirk on her lips. She gets closer to your dick, hot breath tickling you, and the air you need in your lungs gets exponentially bigger the moment her own tongue comes out to have her fun. “I’m thinking we should double team someone one of these days, though.”

Jesus, this woman truly is after your own heart. Even the mere thought of Kazuha wearing a strap, pinning Rei down and getting to stuff her in both holes sounded insane. And here she is, telling you that she’s ready and willing to go; might not even need to be Rei at all.

“Hot,” Rei comments, like her mouth isn’t preoccupied with your balls. “Can that be me? Please let it be me.”

The shit eating grin on Kazuha’s face when she hears that, paired with her eyebrows wiggling at you causes a shaky laugh to spill out of your lips. Knowing that it really, actually, might be Rei that’s going to get stuffed by the both of you in the near future makes you throb harder, pulsing around Kazuha’s hand.

Something you’ll anticipate for later, when the time comes. Right now you need to focus on not cumming too early when both Kazuha takes your cock in her mouth, tongue swirling around your cockhead just as Rei manages to take both your balls in hers. It makes you grip the counter tighter, hissing a curse and looking up at the ceiling just so the view won’t make you explode in record time.

Not that it matters, you’re only delaying the inevitable when it comes to Kazuha.

“Z-Zuha–” you stutter, a hand coming to rest on her hair, running your fingers through her locks when she takes you deep. Mouth locked firmly around your length, she sucks eagerly, cheeks hollowing out as she bobs. Up and down and up and down and down and down until her nose almost reaches your crotch. Letting out a gag before she comes up for air, stroking your spit covered cock and looks up at you with a smile.

“Problem?” The tilt of her head partnered with the grin playing her face is fucking you up seven ways to Sunday, and your fingers curled up in her hair tightens in response. Combined with the fact that Rei’s never let up on your balls, and it’s a constant barrage of pleasure that you do not have the strength to win against.

“I–fuck–” It’s embarrassing to admit, having to lose so quickly against these two, but waking up and having your dick sucked wasn't exactly what you were expecting to happen. “I’m not gonna last long.”

Rei pauses, coming up and finally giving you a moment's rest, and she is a mess. Droll running down her chin that she doesn’t bother wiping off, only slurping what she can in her mouth as she grins at you two. “Can I do the thing please?”

You turn to Kazuha. “What thing?”

“Course you can, Rei.” Kazuha gives Rei a kiss on the cheek.

“Yes!” Rei leaves one last kiss on your cock, her tongue making out with the tip and the surprise almost makes you kick your feet up. 

“Holy shit–”

She doesn't stay for long, kissing you cock one last time before she stands up. Before you can know it Kazuha is pulling you away from the counter, getting you to stand upright.

“Dude, what is she talking about?” You hold on to Kazuha's shoulders, the clothes around your ankles being a pain to move forward.

Kazuha only grins and gives you a wink. “When I said Rei was adventurous–” You can feel Rei behind you now, her hands on your shoulders, face peeking out from behind to kiss you dangerously close to your lips but pulls away to smooch you on the cheek. “She’s really adventurous.”

Rei must know what'll happen if she decides to have a taste of your lips. 

Clothes rustling behind you pique your curiosity, making you want to turn around to see Rei's breasts out of that damn bra. Wanting to feel the weight of them in your palms, pinch and play with her nipples, give them a nice, good squeeze—

A squeaky, girly noise comes out of you, shivers up your spine, your skin tingling all over the place, body locking up; it happens all at once, overloading your senses and almost making you double over if not for Kazuha holding you upright. You don’t know how to react, your body running on instinct at the burst of pleasure that’s hit you, all because of a wet intrusion poking in your taint.

“What the fuck, Rei–” The letters that constitute pronouncing her name slowly become gibberish in favor of a long, drawn out moan, your hands grabbing Kazuha’s head in an attempt to find solace. Even if you must look so fucked stupid in front of her, that smile Kazuha gives you is somehow both endearing and problematic at the same time.

“Relax,” Kazuha says, and that one word—that one, simple word—is enough to let you know that there is, in fact, a problem. “Just let go when you need to, alright?”

And when Kazuha starts to double down on the assault of pleasure being inflicted on you, you just know that you’re not going to last much longer. You’re almost hyperventilating at how potent the feeling is, the tingling becoming a numbing sensation over your body from it all.

The sensation of Rei licking around your pucker, circling it with her tongue before she does a few pokes to test your reaction. Kazuha’s head a blur from how fast her head is bobbing, blowing you so eagerly. Rei digging her fingers in your ass once her tongue plunges in to rim you. Kazuha’s gaze never losing its focus away from you, her lips suctioned at your tip, tongue circling around, flicking the slit of your cockhead while her hands stroke you.

You’re seeing stars. Blots of white start blocking your vision, the hold you have on Kazuha’s head getting firmer to hold yourself together. It’s useless trying to fight back against it, not when these two are tongue fucking you on both sides. You try to warn either of them that the inevitable is happening, but all that comes out is garbled mutterings of a man gone mad.

It just happened, is what you eventually tell the both. When your eyes roll back and your cock erupts straight into Kazuha’s waiting mouth, filling up with cum at each pulse. The hum that vibrates around your cock along with the tongue slowly licking around your taint coaxes more and more of your load to come out, and it all seems neverending.

Rei comes out from behind, leaving your backside to kneel next to your leg. A finger feathers around your taint, even as she stares at Kazuha prolongs your load. And Kazuha manages to stay attached to your cock, jerking you off to gain more of your spunk, swallowing what she can even as it starts to spill out of her lips. The wonder in Rei’s eyes as she watches, the perverse anticipation in her lips—and all you can do is moan and let it all happen.

“There you go,” Rei mutters, her thighs pushing together. “Give her all that cum. Give her everything so I can have some for myself.”

Kazuha’s lips leave your shaft and you’re crumbling to the floor, feeling like you just ran a marathon and back from the experience. Rei makes sure that you don’t hurt yourself, getting your back against the counter before she gets pulled in for a kiss by Kazuha.

Cum gets swapped between their lips, lips savouring the taste, their tongues sliding together and sharing what Kazuha has milked from you. Some spill down, some stick to their lips, most get swallowed from both. It’s all so messy, and they don’t care at all.

Somehow, someway, your cock comes to life from the view. You don’t understand how, and you’re genuinely scared to find out what happens when you figure out that your body is overruling your sense of survival for more of this.

They part, Kazuha turning to you as Rei licks up any leftover cum that’s fallen down to the former’s chest. “You look like you enjoyed that.”

“I look like I’m a fucking corpse,” you reply, causing Kazuha and Rei to giggle. “What the hell was even that?”

“Just a little thank you for cleaning up the apartment while we were off partying.” Kazuha closes the distance between you two, coming to your left. She cups your cheek, and her lips meet yours. 

Arms wrap around her waist to pull her close, and you relax. Letting yourself get swept away by Kazuha’s soft lips for a moment, whispering such a rare phrase to you in between all of the kisses that it makes you smile. You say it back, just when you feel a wet pressure around your length.

It makes you flinch in surprise, pulling you away from the moment, from Kazuha. You look down, and Rei’s in between your legs, cock popping off her lips.

“So about that double team,” Rei starts, slowly stroking you. It was enough to ease you back into hardness. She’s careful with you, making sure that the pleasure doesn’t become pain from overstimulating you. “Can that be my payment for staying here for the week?”

You share a look with Kazuha.

Kazuha shrugs. Takes a glance at Rei. Smirks.

“May I take a break, please?”

You’re thinking about it. You know she’s so tired that her arms will most likely give out any minute now.

“Are you frustrated with me, Sir?” she asks.

“No, Seungyeon. Why would I be? Let’s take a break,” you say, swimming backwards to a shallower depth as she follows you to get out of the pool.

Even as you stare at her, she looks incredibly hot with her hair all wet. Before Seungyeon got into the pool, she had come out of your bathroom in a one-piece swimsuit, and you tried not to make it obvious that you were checking her out. But what’s super obvious is that Seungyeon doing the exact same thing.

“So like..” she says, grabbing the towel from your hand after you give her one, “I have a question. What was your first impression of me?”

“When we walked past each other at the award shows?”

“Yeah.”

“Pretty,” you say, smiling at her. “That dress looked amazing on you.”

“Aw, thank you. I remember seeing you standing out so much from across the hallway before we passed each other. You were very handsome, by the way.”

“Thanks?” you chuckle.

Seungyeon gently places her hand on your chest, shyly, yet very bold. “So, we’re adults, right?”

“You’ve been checking me out, Seungyeon. It’s super obvious.”

“But you’re not checking me out? You said I’m pretty. Something isn't adding up."

“I would be lying if I said that I wasn’t, Seungyeon,” you smirk.

She chuckles, and then you felt a gentle squeeze from her hands on your chest, “pervert.”

“Here we go, I guess I’m in the wrong?”

“Gosh, who knew Twice’s bodyguard was this hot,” she stares at your shoulders, completely ignoring your question.

“You’re acting very different ever since we got out the pool, but I think I like where this is going.”

“See how mature we are? Leave the inappropriate thoughts for later, and later is right now.”

Both of you meet each other’s gaze. It gets quiet with only the birds chirping in the mid-evening. Seungyeon licks her lips, and you follow her lead, doing the same.

“May-” both of you say at the same time.

“You first,” she laughs. You like how she laughs, it’s on the shyer side.

“No, ladies first,” you say.

“May I borrow your lips?”

“If you promise to give it back, Seungyeon.” With a smirk, and a gentle pull on her chin, you lean in, closer and closer together for a kiss. She tilts her head to the right, and you tilt to the left, aggressively kissing each other by the second until it turns to French kissing.

Seconds felt like minutes by fighting over dominance through kisses, and she’s really putting up a fight. Seungyeon’s an actress after all.

“Let’s go inside,” you murmur, breaking the kisses.

“Should we?” she chuckles and puts her arms on your shoulders. You lift her up, hands on Seungyeon’s ass, and carry her inside slowly. “Gosh, you’re strong too,” she utters. “Lift me up so easily.”

As you turn the doorknob, you quickly get inside and shut the door while she makes out with your neck. “Seungyeon, relax,” you whisper. “This isn’t a movie scene.”

“Oh shut up,” she laughs.

Walking past the living room, you have only one place in mind—the bed. She crashes down onto the mattress and stares at your chest, so you crawl right on top of her, guiding her hand to rest on your chest. 'You love this, don’t you?'"

“So fucking charming,” she utters and laugh, covering her mouth shyly with her other hand. “How did we end up here?”

“Beats me,” you chuckle, letting go of her hands as she freely explores, while you grab onto the strap of her swimsuit. “May I?”

“Of course. That’s very respectful of you," she says. You pull the strap to the side as it loosens onto her shoulders. Seungyeon pulls you closer for a kiss with her hands on your shoulders, “I can feel something hard between by legs.”

"It's going inside you in a bit." You gently yank on her swimsuit to reveal her tits and give them a lick, then a passionate suck on her nipple. She chuckles and holds you until her nipples are coated in your saliva.

“It was pretty cute if you. Anyone ever said you look cute when your face is between their tits?”

“First time an actress ever said that to me," you smile, leaning in to kiss her on the lip. “How wet are you?”

“How about you find out,” she chuckles. “Gosh, I can’t believe we’re doing this. It's only been a day with you."

“There’s no turning back,” you say and slowly trace down, kissing Seungyeon’s chest, to her stomach, and down between her inner thighs.

“Oh, gosh,” she utters. “Mhmm.”

Seungyeon arches and lets out a quiet moan once she feels your breath between her legs. “It’s very sensitive right now,” she gasp.

Driven by lust, you couldn’t wait any longer. Before she can even realize, she lets out a deep moan once your tongue licks her pussy with her legs spreading wider. Seungyeon moans, “fuck, yes, yes, right there.”

Her head digs deeper into your pillow, eyes all shut with a smile on her face from being eaten out. Your tongue swirls, and you can feel Seungyeon trying to catch her breath, gasping for air the more you passionately make a small mess on her pussy.

She grips right onto your hair, pulling and squeezing with all her might. You can barely hear her moans after feeling her legs closing in on the side of your face. Seungyeon’s legs were tightly locking you in as she squirms side to side, continuously moaning and chuckling from how you're devouring her.

“Fuck!” she moans, screaming out her pleasures and you pull off from her pussy to let her catch her breath.

“Sorry, I got carried away,” you chuckle, then give her a mischievous smirk.

“Put it in already. I can see how hard you are,” she says, breathing heavily.

You take off your swim trunks, and she’s staring right at your cock after all the curious and inappropriate thoughts of wondering how big you were. She gulps, and gulps again, covering her mouth with her legs still spread open.

“It’s not like you’ve never seen a man’s private part, Seungyeon,” you tease her.

“I just haven’t done it in a while, okay?” she shyly looks to the side, embarrassed.

“I don’t judge, Seungyeon,” you say and lean over to slowly put the tip of your cock inside Seungyeon. She quietly moans, then grabs onto the side of your arms with both hands.

“Slowly,” Seungyeon gasp, gripping onto your arms. “Don’t be too rough on me.”

“I wasn’t planning on it anyways. Why would I hurt a pretty girl like you?”

Slowly, and gently, you push deeper inside her, deep enough where you can see her mouth open without a fight. “Fuck,” she moans. “Ugh.”

You lean closer to her face, and brush her hair while you thrust slowly for her sake. “Is it a problem if I,” you take a breath, “cum in you?”

“I never said you couldn’t,” she gasp with her body in rhythm to the way your body was pushing against her thighs. “You feel so good.”

“I can say the same.” You then kiss her on the lip as it quickly breaks into French kisses. She’s an actress, you know they can kiss, it’s what’s charming about Seungyeon. She holds you in with her arms all over your back, just caressing your shoulder blades as you thrust deeper into her pussy.

“You can go faster,” she whimpers. So you did, enough to make you find a good rhythm where her legs cling onto your hips. “Yes, right there.”

“So demanding,” you grunt right after, stopping deep into her pussy as it throbs. You can feel her chin right on your shoulders to where her moans sound so elegant.

“You’re not cumming, are you?”

“No, just not yet,” you chuckle, trying to cover the fact that Seungyeon’s moan turns you on so much.

“How about we change into a new position?” she says. And you don’t why, but the little conversations with her felt refreshing.

“Lay down sideways, Seungyeon,” you say, slowly pulling out and hearing the wet noises from her pussy.

She doesn’t answer, but gets on her side with one leg out in a ninety degree angle. You gulp from just seeing this woman looking at you from the side, “like this?”

“I was thinking of lifting your leg,” you say, unbothered as you quickly put the tip of your cock back in, and slowly going deeper while she groans.

You see Seungyeon gripping the bedsheets after a few seconds, and from just being on top to see her, your eyes are filled with lust, seeing Seungyeon’s ass slowly bouncing, the side of her tits, her back arching, and even the beauty of her face.

“Fuck,” you utter, grunting, thrusting faster mindlessly to hear her moan louder and grope her ass tightly, squeezing it until you’re satisfied.

Her groans are deep, moans so elegant, and the way she’s starting to whimper only made you want more, selfishly. “Right there,” she gasp, breathing harder.

“You love it, don’t you?” you say in a lower tone.

“Yes,” she gasp. “Fuck me.”

Despite her not wanting you to be too rough, you found a sweet spot, right for the two of you to enjoy each other in bed with an overwhelming amount of built up lust from today. You’re drowning in this feeling. Seungyeon’s purely beautiful, but the tight swim suit she had on added to the fueling desire.

But before you knew it, it’s too late, your cock is throbbing inside her. So you cum, without a second thought.

“Oh-” she utters, feeling a rush of warm cum inside her as you crash down, right on top of Seungyeon.

“Seungyeon,” you moan, gasping and grunting. She starts to kiss you, aggressively, wanting your lips glued to hers.

“Mhm,” she moans, “this was worth the wait.”

“It’s worth it if we both cum,” you say, trying to catch your breath and place your hand on her clit. “May I?”

“Keep it in me. I want you to feel me cumming, at least.”

You don’t reply, but slowly rub her clit in circles, gradually going faster. And out of desire, you couldn’t stare at her lips without giving them some attention, so you continue making out with Seungyeon. You just couldn't help it with an actress.

With her breaths coating your face, and after a few seductive moans, you felt her body squirming.“Cumming?”

“Don’t slow down for me this time,” she chuckles, until it breaks into an erotic grunt, instantly cumming and moaning loudly.

You felt her cumming, right on your cock with the walls getting tighter, to which, you can only utter, “gosh, Seungyeon.”

She grabs your hand, quickly with a tight grip to tell you to stop. And with no words, Seungyeon chuckles.

“That was cute of you, Seungyeon.” You pull out, and cum quickly oozes out slowly from her pussy.

“That was exhausting,” she closes her eyes.

“I didn’t hurt you, right?” you say, getting out of the bed to put on your pants only, because it’s more right to be shirtless in front of her.

“Well, it felt good. So, no? I don’t know. It was fun.”

“Stay the night?” you say, staring right in her eyes and getting onto the bed to brush Seungyeon’s silky hair.

“My car keys are at Jeongyeon. If I stay the night, she’ll know what we did. Actually…well, she did bring us two together today without our respective professions involved, didn’t she?”

You chuckle, “are you going to blame your sister for what we’re doing tonight?”

Seungyeon shrugs, “yeah. Payback. I’m taking her bodyguard for tonight.”

“Are you hungry? We haven’t eaten after we met each other."

“I didn’t know you’re a caring man. But yes, should we order something? Let’s get to know each other more. At least let me know you a little."

“I’ll order. I gave you hell today in the pool either way.”

“Hey, at least you had the time to help me out,” Seungyeon chuckles. “Maybe I should change into comfortable clothes.”

“I’ll be here waiting, Seungyeon. No rush.”

She goes into the bathroom with a set of clothes hanging from her arms. You grab your phone and see a text notification from Jeongyeon from an hour ago:

You'd seen her face everywhere. Billboard in Gangnam. Subway advertisement for soju. The thumbnail of every third video on your YouTube feed. Karina. Yu Ji-min. The face of AESPA, the woman whose wedding had crashed three different entertainment news sites, whose husband, some shipping magnate's son had apparently decided that a wife was something you acquired, not something you maintained.

"That's the job," Senior Park had said. "She called us. Not the other way around. Remember that."

And now here you were, sitting in your Hyundai at the security gate of a house that looked more like a modern art museum, trying to remember how to breathe normally.

The gate buzzed before you could press the intercom.

A woman's voice, softer than you'd expected. "Come in. The front door is around the fountain."

The gate swung open.

The walk from your car to the front door took exactly forty-three steps. You counted them. Anything to keep your mind from spinning out. The fountain in the driveway was one of those minimalist things, a black stone slab with water sheeting down the sides. Classy. Expensive. The kind of thing you could stare at and feel nothing about.

Your professional training ran through your head like a checklist Senior Park had drilled into you months ago. Posture. Eye contact. Don't stare. Let her set the pace. The first meeting is always about making them comfortable enough to admit what they want.

But none of the training had mentioned what to do when Karina opened the door.

She wasn't wearing makeup. That was the first thing you noticed, not what you'd expected. Every image you'd ever seen of her was polished to a high gloss, stage-ready, camera-ready. The woman standing in the doorway had her dark hair pulled back in a loose ponytail, a few strands escaping at the temples. She wore an oversized gray sweater that hung off one shoulder, black leggings, bare feet on the marble floor.

And her face. Jesus Christ, her face.

The bone structure that launched a thousand fan edits. Lips that were slightly chapped, slightly parted. Eyes that held yours with something between curiosity and exhaustion.

"Come in," she said, stepping aside. "Take off your shoes."

You did. Brain on autopilot. The foyer was all white marble and indirect lighting, a staircase curving up into shadow. The house smelled like fresh laundry and something floral… lilies, maybe. A bouquet sat on a console table near the door, still wrapped in cellophane, the card unopened.

"I'm…" you started. "I know who you are." She was already walking toward what looked like a living room. "The agency sent me your file. Do you want something to drink?"

The living room was vast and somehow still felt empty. A sectional sofa big enough for twelve people. Floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking a garden you couldn't see in the dark. No photographs on the walls. No magazines on the coffee table. It looked like a showroom, like no one actually lived here. "Water would be great," you managed.

Karina gestured toward the sofa. "Sit." She disappeared through an archway. You heard water running, the clink of glass. Your heart was doing something ridiculous in your chest—not racing exactly, more like it was trying to relocate to your throat.

The file Senior Park had given you was thin. Married eight months. Husband's name was Lee Joon-ho, heir to Lee Shipping & Logistics. According to the tabloids, he'd been spotted at clubs in Gangnam with actresses whose names you didn't recognize, while Karina attended industry events alone. The word "lonely" appeared in a lot of the articles, usually paired with photos of her looking wistful at award shows. "Here."

She was back, holding two glasses. One water, one something amber. Whiskey, maybe. Your eyes tracked the movement of her bare arm as she set the water down on the coffee table between you. "You're nervous," she said, settling onto the opposite end of the sectional. Not a question.

"A little."

"Why?"

Because you're Karina. Because every man in this country has fantasized about you. Because I'm sitting in your mansion and you're wearing that sweater and I don't know what I'm supposed to do with my hands. "New clients are always nerve-wracking," you said instead. "For both of us."

Something flickered in her expression. Amusement, maybe. Or skepticism. She took a sip of her drink—whiskey, definitely—and let her head rest against the back of the sofa. The movement exposed the long line of her throat, the delicate architecture of her collarbones where the sweater had slipped. "How long have you been doing this?"

"A year."

"And before that?" You hesitated. The training said honesty was valuable, but only in measured doses. "I was a personal trainer. Senior Park recruited me. Said I had the right… temperament."

"Temperament." She said the word like she was tasting it. "Is that what they call it?" The silence stretched. Outside, wind rattled something against the glass—a branch, probably. The house was so quiet you could hear the refrigerator humming from two rooms away.

"Why did you call the agency?" you asked. Karina's gaze slid toward you. "Aren't you supposed to know the answer to that?"

"I'd rather hear it from you." Another sip of whiskey. Her throat moved as she swallowed. "The agency brief didn't tell you?"

"It said you were recently married. It said your husband travels frequently for work."

"Travels." A short laugh, not especially warm. "Is that what they're calling it now?"

You didn't answer. Sometimes silence was the best tool you had. Karina set her glass down on the coffee table with a little more force than necessary. The sound echoed in the cavernous room. "He doesn't travel. He's in Seoul. He just doesn't come home." She was looking at the windows now, at her own reflection in the dark glass. "Three months. I've seen him three times in three months, and each time it was for less than an hour. Photo opportunities, mostly. His PR team coordinates them."

"That sounds lonely." Her jaw tightened. "Don't."

"Don't what?" "Don't do the sympathetic thing. I'm not paying for sympathy."

You shifted on the sofa, turning to face her more directly. "What are you paying for?"

The question landed differently than you'd intended. Karina's eyes snapped to yours, and for a moment the mask slipped—the idol mask, the one she wore in every interview and variety show appearance. Underneath it was something rawer. Something hungry and furious and so tired of pretending. "I want to feel something," she said. "Something that isn't…" She gestured vaguely at the house around her. "This."

"This?"

"Empty." The word came out smaller than the others. She picked up her whiskey again, took a longer drink. "Everything in my life is scheduled and managed and presented to the public in exactly the right light. My marriage. My career. My face." Another drink. "I wake up in this house and I feel like I'm already a ghost. Like I'm haunting my own life." You watched her fingers tighten around the glass. The knuckles went pale.

"So when you ask what I'm paying for," she continued, "I'm paying for something real. Something that isn't polite. Something that doesn't treat me like I'm made of glass." The air in the room had changed. Thicker, somehow. Charged with something you couldn't name.

"Have you done this before?" you asked. "With anyone from the agency?"

"No."

"And you understand how this works? The boundaries, the rules—"

"I understand." She cut you off with a look that was almost defiant. "I read everything. I know about the safeword protocols. I know I can stop anything at any time. I know this isn't…" She paused, searching for the word. "Conventional."

"It's not," you agreed. "Which is why I need to ask you something, and I need you to be honest with me."

Karina raised an eyebrow, and for a second you caught a glimpse of the stage persona, the one who commanded thousands with a single glance. "Ask."

"Are you sure you want this?" The question hung between you. Outside, the wind picked up again, and somewhere in the house a door creaked—settling, probably, or the air pressure shifting. Karina didn't look away from your face.

"Do you want me to prove it?" she asked.

"I want you to tell me." She was quiet for a long moment. Then she set her glass down again, stood up from the sofa, and walked toward you. Her bare feet made almost no sound on the marble floor. The sweater slipped further off her shoulder as she moved, revealing the strap of something black and lacy underneath. When she stopped, she was standing directly in front of you, close enough that you could smell her perfume—something light, citrus and white flowers—and underneath it, the clean scent of her skin. "I've been thinking about this for three weeks," she said. "Ever since I found the agency's number in a forum I wasn't supposed to be reading. Ever since I realized that the only person who's touched me in eight months is my makeup artist." Her voice was steady, but there was a tremor underneath it. "So yes. I'm sure. I want this."

She held out her hand. "I want you to make me feel something. I don't care if it hurts. I don't care if it's ugly. I want to stop being Karina for a few hours and just be… a body. A woman. Whatever is left of me when all of this"—she waved at the house, at the empty walls, at the unopened flowers—"isn't here anymore." Your pulse was a drumbeat in your ears. Her hand was still extended, palm up, waiting.

"Tell me your safeword," you said.

"Red."

"And if you can't speak?"

"Three taps. Anywhere you can feel them." You'd said the same words to half a dozen clients before her, but something about the way Karina recited them back—steady, rehearsed, like she'd practiced them in front of a mirror—made your chest tighten.

"Okay," you said. And you took her hand. Her skin was warm. Soft, the way you'd imagined, but there was strength in her grip too—the hand of someone who'd spent years in dance studios, who'd trained her body to do exactly what she wanted it to. She didn't flinch when you stood up, which brought you close enough that you could see the individual lashes framing her eyes, the tiny mole near her left eyebrow, the way her lips had parted slightly.

"Before we do anything," you said, "I need you to understand something."

"What?"

"This isn't about your husband. This isn't about revenge or filling a void or proving something to yourself." You kept your voice low, even. "This is about what you want. Right now. In this room. Nothing else exists." Karina's eyes searched your face. Whatever she was looking for, she must have found it, because something in her expression shifted—a loosening, a letting-go.

"Nothing else exists," she repeated.

"Good girl." The words slipped out before you could stop them, but the effect was immediate. Karina's breath caught. Her pupils dilated, just slightly. The hand in yours tightened its grip.

"That's what you want?" you asked. "To be good?"

"I want…" She swallowed. "I want to stop thinking. I want someone else to be in charge. Just for a while." You lifted your free hand and brushed a strand of hair away from her face. The movement was gentle, almost reverent, and it made no sense with the things you were about to do—but that was the point, wasn't it? The contrast. The collision of tender and brutal that would short-circuit her brain and give her exactly what she was asking for.

"Your bedroom," you said. "Take me there."

She led you up the curved staircase, her hand still in yours. The upstairs hallway was lined with doors, all of them closed except one at the far end. Soft light spilled out of it, and as you got closer you could see the corner of a bed—a huge bed, king-sized at least, with white sheets and too many pillows. The master bedroom. Karina's bedroom.

The room that her husband had probably not set foot in for months. She paused at the threshold, and for a moment you thought she might hesitate. Might change her mind. Might realize what she was about to do and decide it was too much, too fast, too far outside the carefully constructed image of Yu Ji-min, beloved idol, perfect wife.

Instead, she turned to face you. "What do you want me to do first?" The question was genuine. Not a test. She was waiting for you to take the reins, willing to hand over control before you'd even started.

"First," you said, stepping into the bedroom and pulling her gently after you, "I want you to take off that sweater." Karina's hands moved to the hem of the gray wool. The fabric lifted, revealing the black lace you'd glimpsed earlier—a bralette, delicate and expensive-looking, the kind of thing you wore when you wanted to feel beautiful even if no one else would see it. The sweater came over her head and dropped to the floor.

Her skin was luminous in the low light. Pale and smooth, with the kind of muscle definition that came from years of dancing—toned arms, a flat stomach that tensed as she breathed, the curve of her ribs just visible beneath the skin. "Now the leggings." She hooked her thumbs into the waistband and pushed them down, bending at the waist. The movement was efficient, not seductive, but it didn't matter—the sight of her body unfolding as she straightened up, the black lace of her underwear matching the bralette, the long lines of her legs.

You circled her slowly. She stood very still, the way she'd probably been trained to stand for fittings and stage checks, but there was a tremor in her thighs that she couldn't quite control. Anticipation. Maybe fear. Probably both. "Lie down on the bed," you said. "On your back."

Karina did as she was told. The mattress barely dipped under her weight—memory foam, probably, the kind that cost more than your monthly rent. She arranged herself in the center of the white expanse, arms at her sides, looking up at the ceiling. "Close your eyes." Her lashes swept down against her cheeks. The room was silent except for her breathing, which had gone shallow and quick. You stood at the foot of the bed and watched her. The rise and fall of her chest. The way her fingers curled against the sheets. The faint flush spreading from her neck to her collarbones.

"How do you feel?" you asked. "Exposed."

"Good." You moved to the side of the bed and sat down on the edge, close enough that your hip nearly touched hers. Karina's breathing hitched at the proximity.

"Do you know what I'm going to do to you?"

A pause. "No." "I'm going to use you." The words came out rougher than you'd intended. "I'm going to take everything you're willing to give me, and I'm going to make you feel every second of it. Your body belongs to me tonight. Do you understand?"

Her voice was barely a whisper. "Yes."

"And you want that?"

"God, yes."

"Look at me." Her eyes opened. They were glassy already, the pupils blown wide. The composed idol from five minutes ago was already starting to dissolve, replaced by something more vulnerable and infinitely more real. "Your husband," you said. "Does he ever look at you like this?"

Karina flinched—a tiny movement, but you caught it. "No."

"Does he touch you?"

"No."

"Does he make you feel anything at all?" A tear slipped from the corner of her eye, tracking down her temple and into her hair. "No." You leaned closer. "Then forget him. Forget all of it. Right now, there's only me and you and what your body can take. Nothing else. No Karina. No Yu Ji-min. Just a woman who needs to be fucked like she matters."

The tears were coming faster now, but she wasn't sobbing—just leaking, silently, the release of pressure that had been building for months.

"Please," she said. "Please."

"Please what?"

"Make me forget." You stood up and began unbuttoning your shirt. Karina watched you through blurred vision, her chest rising and falling with breaths she couldn't seem to control. The black lace of her bralette had shifted, revealing the upper curve of her breasts, the skin there flushed and warm.

"Last chance to change your mind," you said, pulling your shirt off and letting it fall. Her eyes traveled over your chest, your arms, the line of your stomach. When she spoke, her voice was steadier than it had been.

"I'm not changing my mind."

"Good." You unbuckled your belt and pulled it free from the loops with a single smooth motion. The leather whispered against the fabric of your pants. "Because I'm just getting started." The belt was still in your hand. Karina watched it loop between your fingers, the leather dark against your palm. Her tears had left shiny tracks down her temples, disappearing into the hairline, and her breathing had gone shallow again—not from crying now, but from something else. Something that made her thighs press together on the white sheets.

“Sit up,” you said. She pushed herself upright, the bralette shifting as she moved. One strap slipped off her shoulder. She didn’t fix it. You folded the belt in half and ran your thumb along the smooth side. “You said you wanted to stop being Karina for a few hours.”

“Yes.”

“Then I’m going to take away your sight.” Her lips parted. A micro-flinch—not fear, not exactly. More like the body’s instinctive response to a cliff edge. The moment before the jump. “The blindfold,” you continued, “stays on until I take it off. If it becomes too much, you use the taps. Three of them. Anywhere you can reach me.”

“I know the rules.”

“I know you do.” You stepped closer, until your knees touched the edge of the mattress. “But I want to hear you say it. What happens if you need to stop?”

“Three taps.” Her voice was steadier now. “On you. Anywhere.”

“And what’s your word?”

“Red.”

“Good.” You reached down and brushed your knuckles along her jawline. The contact was feather-light, almost accidental. “Lift your hair.” She gathered the dark strands and held them up, exposing the nape of her neck. The movement arched her back slightly, pushed her chest forward. The black lace strained against her breasts. You brought the belt around her head. The leather was cool, supple from use. You positioned it across her eyes, careful not to catch her hair in the buckle, and pulled it snug against her temples. Not tight enough to hurt. Tight enough that she wouldn’t see anything but darkness.

“How does that feel?”

Karina exhaled. “Dark.”

“Can you see anything?”

“No.”

“Good.” You fastened the belt at the back of her head and let your fingers trail down the side of her neck as you withdrew. Her pulse hammered against your fingertips. “Now lie back down.” She lowered herself onto the mattress. The movement was different now—less controlled, more tentative. Without her sight, every shift of her body became a negotiation with the unknown. Her hands found the sheets and gripped them. You stood at the edge of the bed and looked at her. The idol that half of Korea fantasized about. The face on every billboard. Reduced to a blindfolded woman in black lace, her chest rising and falling in shallow, rapid cycles, her lips slick where she’d licked them.

“Spread your legs.” Karina’s thighs parted. The movement was slow, almost reluctant—but she did it. The matching black panties were cut high on her hips, the fabric thin enough that you could see the suggestion of her underneath. A dark shadow. A slight dampness already bleeding through.

“Wider.” She obeyed. Her knees fell open, exposing the full length of her. The panties pulled taut across her cunt. The outline of her lips. The little seam where they parted.

You didn’t touch her there. Not yet. Instead you climbed onto the bed, positioning yourself beside her. The mattress dipped under your weight, and Karina’s body shifted toward you instinctively—gravity pulling her toward the heat of your skin. “You’re going to use your mouth now,” you said. “And while you do, I’m going to play with these.” Your fingers found the strap of her bralette. You pulled it down. Then the other strap. The lace caught on her nipples for a moment—already peaked, already hard—before you tugged it free and let the fabric pool around her waist.

Karina’s breasts were full and pale, the nipples a dusty rose color that darkened at the tips. They stiffened further in the open air, and she made a small sound—something between a gasp and a whimper. “You like that.”

“Yes,” she breathed.

“You like being blindfolded. You like not knowing what’s coming next.”

“I… yes.” You traced a circle around her right nipple with your fingertip. The skin puckered. Karina’s back lifted off the mattress.

“Don’t move,” you said. “Stay still and let me touch you.” She forced herself down. The effort was visible—her abdominal muscles tensed, her hands fisting in the sheets. You circled the nipple again, closer this time, and then you took it between your thumb and forefinger and squeezed. The sound she made was not a moan. It was a broken exhale, a noise that started in her chest and caught in her throat. Her hips bucked once—an involuntary spasm—and then she forced them still. “That’s it,” you murmured. “Let your body react. Don’t fight it.”

You rolled the nipple between your fingers, working it slowly. The texture was fascinating—the way it tightened and pebbled under your touch, the way the areola crinkled around it. Karina’s breathing had gone ragged. A flush was spreading down her chest, past her collarbones, toward the swell of her breasts. “Does your husband ever touch you like this?”

“No—” The word came out strangled.

“Does he know what your body does when someone pays attention to it?”

“He doesn’t… he never…”

“He never what?”

“He never touches me.” The confession was barely a whisper. “He never—ah—” You’d switched to the other nipple, giving it the same treatment. Roll. Squeeze. A gentle twist that made her gasp and arch before she remembered she was supposed to stay still.

“Then he’s a fool,” you said. “Because your body is extraordinary.” You leaned down and took her nipple into your mouth. Karina cried out. The sound was sharp and sudden, echoing in the vast bedroom. Your tongue laved across the tight bud, traced circles around the areola, and then you sucked—a long, pulling pressure that made her whole body go rigid.

“Oh—oh god—” Her hands came up, flailing in the dark, and found your shoulders. Her nails dug in. You didn’t tell her to stop. Instead you sucked harder, pulling the nipple deep into your mouth while your other hand continued working its twin—rolling, pinching, tugging in counterpoint to the rhythm of your tongue. She was making sounds now that had no words in them. Just vowels. Just broken, desperate vowels that rose and fell with the movement of your mouth. You released her nipple with a wet pop.

“Hands down,” you said. “We’re not done.” Karina’s fingers uncurled from your shoulders. She lowered her arms back to the bed. Her chest was heaving, both nipples now slick and swollen, darker than they’d been before. The blindfold had shifted slightly—just a millimeter—but she hadn’t tried to remove it. “Good girl. Now.” You unfastened your pants and pushed them down. Your boxers followed. “I want you to sit up. I want you on your knees. Can you do that?”

She nodded. The belt bobbed with the movement. Getting her upright was an exercise in trust. She couldn’t see the edge of the bed, couldn’t gauge the distance. You guided her by the shoulders—first into a sitting position, then turning her so her legs hung off the side of the mattress. “On your knees,” you said. “On the floor.” Karina slid off the bed. Her knees hit the hardwood with a soft thud. The position put her face level with your hips, and even though she couldn’t see you, she must have sensed your proximity, because her breath quickened. “You’re going to use your mouth now,” you said. “The way you’ve been thinking about since you first called the agency. The way you’ve imagined in this empty bed at night while your husband was god knows where.”

Her lips parted. Her tongue darted out, wetting them. “But you don’t get to use your hands. Not yet. Just your mouth. And while you work, I’m going to keep playing with your nipples. Do you understand?”

“Yes.” You guided yourself toward her mouth. The head of your cock brushed her lower lip—just a touch, just enough for her to feel the heat. Karina’s whole body shuddered. “Open.” She did. Her jaw dropped, and you pushed forward, sliding the tip past her lips. The inside of her mouth was hot. Wet. Her tongue met the underside of your shaft, tentative at first, then bolder—flattening against you, tracing the ridge of the head. You groaned. The sound was involuntary. “That’s it. Take more.”

She did. Her lips stretched around your girth, and you watched her jaw work as she accommodated the intrusion. There was no hesitation now—the blindfold had freed her from something. From the performance. From the expectation. From Karina Yu, the idol, and all the ways that identity constrained her. The woman kneeling on the floor was just a woman. A woman who wanted to suck cock. You reached down and found her nipples again. Both of them this time, one in each hand, rolling them between your thumbs and forefingers as she began to move.

Karina moaned around your shaft. The vibration traveled through you, up your spine, into the base of your skull. “Mmm—”

She pulled back, let her tongue swirl around the head, then pushed forward again—deeper this time. Her throat flexed. A gag reflex triggered, and she choked, but she didn’t pull away. She held herself there, breathing through her nose, letting her throat adjust to the intrusion. “Fuck,” you breathed. “You’ve done this before.” She couldn’t answer—her mouth was full—but the way she moved said everything. This wasn’t practice. This was muscle memory. Somewhere in her past, before the fame and the management and the carefully curated image, there had been a girl who knew exactly what to do with her mouth. You pinched her nipples harder. She whimpered. Bobbed her head. The wet sounds of her mouth filled the room—the slick slide of lips on skin, the soft suction when she pulled back, the obscene little pop when she reached the tip and let go for just a moment before diving back down.

“Look at you.” Your voice had gone rough. “The most famous woman in Korea. On her knees. Blindfolded. Choking on a stranger’s cock.” Karina’s response was a moan that vibrated through your entire shaft. She sucked harder. Faster. Her tongue worked the underside of your cock with the kind of precision that spoke to experience—flicking against the frenulum, tracing the vein that ran along the length, pressing flat and wide when she reached the base. You tugged her nipples in rhythm with her bobbing. Pull when she went down. Release when she came up. The coordination turned her body into an instrument—you played her nipples, and she played you with her mouth. Saliva dripped down her chin. It pooled in the hollow of her throat, ran in thin rivulets toward her collarbones. She was messy now. Undone. The composed idol from an hour ago was dissolving into something rawer and infinitely more beautiful.

“Deeper,” you said. “Take it deeper.” She pushed forward. Her throat constricted around the head of your cock—a tight, hot pressure that made your vision swim. She gagged again, harder this time, and you felt her throat spasm around you. “Stay there.” She held. Her shoulders trembled. A tear leaked from beneath the blindfold—not from crying, but from the physical reflex of her throat trying to expel the intrusion. The tear tracked down her cheek and mixed with the saliva on her chin. You released her nipples and cupped her face instead. Your thumbs traced the stretched line of her lips, the bulge of your cock visible through her cheek.

“You’re perfect like this,” you murmured. “Blind. Choking. Desperate. This is what you needed, isn’t it? To be used. To be nothing but a mouth.” Karina made a sound—half moan, half sob—and nodded as much as she could with your cock buried in her throat. You pulled back. Let her breathe. A thick strand of saliva connected her bottom lip to the tip of your cock.

“Don’t swallow yet,” you said. “Let it drip.” She obeyed. The saliva pooled and spilled, running down her chin and onto her chest. It made her skin glisten in the low light.

“Now use your hands. Both of them. Show me how you touch yourself when you think about this.” Her hands came up immediately—eager, almost frantic. One wrapped around the base of your shaft while the other cupped your balls. Her fingers were cool against the heat of your skin. She squeezed gently, testing the weight, and then her mouth was back on you—lips stretched wide, tongue working, throat opening. The blindfold was soaked now. Tears and sweat had darkened the leather around her eyes. You reached down and found her nipples again. Plucked them. Rolled them. Pinched them until she keened around your cock, the sound high and desperate. “You love this. You love being on your knees for a stranger. You love not being in control.”

“Mmmhmm—” The affirmation vibrated through your shaft.

“Say it. Pull off and say it.” She let you go with a gasp. Her lips were swollen, the color darkened to a deep rose. “I love it. I love being on my knees. I love—” She swallowed, her throat working. “I love not being in control.”

“Why?”

“Because…” Her blindfolded face tilted up toward your voice. “Because for once I don’t have to pretend. I don’t have to be perfect. I don’t have to be Karina. I can just be… this.”

“A mouth.”

“Yes.”

“A set of holes.”

She shuddered. “Yes.”

“Say it.”

“I’m a mouth.” Her voice cracked. “I’m a set of holes. I’m just—I’m just a body that wants to be used.” You stroked her cheek. “Good girl. Now open up.” She did. Her jaw dropped, tongue extended—a gesture of pure, shameless submission. You guided yourself back into her mouth and this time you didn’t let her set the pace. You fucked her throat with slow, deliberate thrusts, watching her lips stretch around you, watching her chest heave as she struggled to breathe through her nose.

Your hands never left her nipples. They were dark now, engorged, slick with the saliva that had dripped down from her chin. You twisted them in opposite directions and Karina screamed around your cock—a muffled, desperate sound that was swallowed by the column of flesh filling her throat. “Again.” Twist. Scream. Her thighs squeezed together, and through the thin black panties you could see her cunt clenching on nothing.

“You’re getting wet from this. From choking on a stranger’s cock while he twists your nipples.” She couldn’t answer. Could only whimper and bob her head and take it. You pulled her off again. She gasped, coughed, and then immediately tried to lean forward—to get you back in her mouth. You held her by the hair. “Not yet. I want to look at you.” Karina knelt there, chest heaving, lips swollen and slick, chin dripping. The blindfold was a dark slash across her face. Her nipples jutted out from the flushed mounds of her breasts, hard and dark and wet. “You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen,” you said. “And I mean that. Not Karina the idol. Not the image. This. Right here. A woman who finally stopped pretending.”

Her lips trembled. “Please.”

“Please what?”

“Please let me finish. Please let me taste you. Please—I need—I need to feel you—”

“You need to feel me come down your throat.”

“Yes.” The word was a sob. “Yes. Please. Use my mouth. Use my throat. I don’t care if I can’t breathe. I just want to feel it. I want to taste it. Please.” You guided her back onto your cock. She took you deeper than before—no hesitation, no slow build. She swallowed you whole, her nose pressing against your abdomen, her throat working around the intrusion like it was made for this. Made for you. Your hands found her nipples one last time. You pinched them hard—the hardest yet—and held the pressure as she sucked. Karina’s whole body convulsed. Her thighs pressed together so tightly that the muscles in her legs stood out in sharp relief. A muffled, keening sound escaped from somewhere deep in her throat. She was close. Even without touching her cunt, even without any stimulation below the waist—she was close. The nipple play and the blindfold and the degradation had wound her up to a breaking point.

You felt your own climax building. A tightening at the base of your spine. A coiling pressure that radiated outward. “I’m going to come,” you said. “And you’re going to swallow every drop. Do you understand?” Karina’s response was to suck harder. Her tongue worked the underside of your shaft, pressing and stroking in time with her bobbing. Her hand cupped your balls and squeezed—gently, then harder—and that was it. The orgasm hit like a punch to the spine. You groaned—a deep, guttural sound—and your hands tightened on her nipples as the first pulse of cum shot into her mouth. She swallowed. You felt her throat work around the head of your cock, milking you, drawing out every pulse. The second shot. The third. She took them all, her lips sealed tight around your shaft, not letting a single drop escape.

“Fuck. Fuck, Karina—” She pulled back just enough to let the last pulse land on her tongue. Then she closed her mouth and swallowed again, her throat moving in a long, deliberate gulp. When she finally released you, she sat back on her heels. Her chest was still heaving. Her nipples were dark and swollen. Her chin glistened. A single drop of cum had escaped the corner of her mouth and was tracking slowly down toward her jaw. You reached down and wiped it away with your thumb. Then you pressed your thumb to her lips. She sucked it clean.

“Thank you,” she whispered. You crouched down in front of her. The blindfold was ruined—soaked through with tears and sweat, the leather darkened to near-black. You reached behind her head and unbuckled it. The belt fell away.

Karina blinked. Her eyes were glassy and unfocused, the pupils so dilated that her irises were barely visible. Tear tracks striped her cheeks. Her lips—swollen, bruised-looking, the lipstick she hadn’t been wearing long since replaced by a deeper, more honest color. She looked wrecked. She looked free. “How do you feel?” you asked.

A long pause. Then a smile—small, fragile, but real. “Like I’m still here. Like I’m actually… in my body. For the first time in months.” You brushed the hair away from her face. “We’re not done.” Karina’s smile widened, just a fraction. “I know.” “Lie back down on the bed. On your stomach this time.” She rose on unsteady legs and climbed onto the mattress. The black panties were soaked through now—a dark, wet patch that spread from the gusset all the way to the waistband. She arranged herself face-down on the white sheets, her arms stretched above her head, her legs slightly apart.

The position made her ass look incredible. Round and full, the cheeks peeking out from beneath the lace.

You climbed onto the bed behind her. Your cock was still half-hard, already stirring again at the sight of her. “I’m going to take these off now,” you said, hooking your fingers into the waistband of her panties. “And then I’m going to find out just how wet choking on a stranger’s cock made you.”

Karina’s voice was muffled by the pillow. “Yes. Please. Touch me.” You pulled the panties down. And stopped breathing. The panties slid down the curve of her ass, the black lace peeling away from skin that glistened with moisture. The gusset left a shining trail across the backs of her thighs—a snail's track of arousal that caught the bedroom's low light. You stopped breathing.

Karina's cunt was laid bare before you, the lips puffy and flushed a deep rose, parted just enough to reveal the darker, wetter flesh within. Her arousal had coated everything—the inner thighs, the neat strip of dark hair above her mound, the puckered swirl of her asshole that winked at you as she shifted on the mattress. The scent hit you next: salt and musk and something sweeter underneath, the raw perfume of a woman who'd been sucking cock while her nipples were tortured and had loved every second of it.

"Fuck," you breathed. Karina's response was muffled by the pillow. "What? What is it?"

"You're dripping. You're actually—" You ran one finger along the seam of her cunt, not pushing in, just gathering the slick that had pooled there. The touch made her whole body jolt. "You're soaked. All the way down your thighs."

"I know." Her voice cracked. "I could feel it. While I was—while you were in my mouth—I could feel myself getting wetter and I couldn't do anything about it."

"Did you want to?"

"Yes. God, yes. I wanted to touch myself so badly. But you told me not to move. So I just… leaked." You brought your slick-coated finger to your mouth and tasted her. Salty. Slightly bitter. Clean. The flavor bloomed on your tongue, and something in your chest tightened—not just lust, though there was plenty of that, but something closer to awe. The most famous woman in Korea was face-down on her marital bed, her cunt drooling onto the sheets, waiting for a stranger to decide what to do with her.

"Please," Karina whispered. "Please touch me. I've been waiting. I've been so patient. Please."

"How long has it been since someone touched you here?"

"Eight months. Since before the wedding. He never—Joon-ho never—" She choked on the name. "He never wanted to. Even before we got married. He said it was… messy. He said he preferred—"

"Preferred what?"

"His hand. His own hand. While I lay next to him pretending to be asleep." The confession hung in the air. You looked at the perfect curve of her ass, the trembling muscles of her thighs, the slick heat of her cunt that some man had decided wasn't worth his time. "His loss," you said. "Don't move." You positioned yourself behind her, kneeling between her spread legs. The position gave you a view of everything—the long line of her spine, the flare of her hips, the dark cleft of her ass, and at the center of it all, her cunt. Swollen. Wet. Waiting.

"Two fingers," you said. "I'm going to put two fingers inside you. And you're going to scream into that pillow." Karina grabbed the pillow and pulled it to her face. You pushed your middle finger into her first.

The heat was staggering. Tight—god, she was tight—but so wet that your finger slid in to the second knuckle without resistance. Her inner walls clenched around the intrusion, a rippling squeeze that traveled from base to tip. Karina's back arched. A strangled sound escaped the pillow.

"One," you said. "Here comes the second."

Your index finger joined the first. The stretch made her gasp—a sharp intake of air that she cut off by biting the pillow. You pushed both fingers deep, curling them upward, searching for the rough patch of tissue that would make her see stars.

You found it.

Karina screamed.

The sound was muffled by the pillow but still loud enough to echo in the vast bedroom. Her hips bucked backward, driving your fingers deeper. Her cunt clamped down with a force that made your knuckles ache.

"There it is," you murmured. "That's what you needed, isn't it? Someone to find it. Someone to touch it. Someone who isn't afraid of a little mess."

"Don't stop—please don't stop—"

You didn't stop. You fucked her with your fingers in slow, deep strokes, curling them against that spot every time you bottomed out. The wet sounds were obscene—a slick, squelching rhythm that filled the room. Her juices coated your hand, dripped down your wrist, pooled on the sheets beneath her.

"Listen to yourself," you said. "Listen to how wet you are. You sound like a—"

"Like a whore." The word came out muffled but clear. "Say it. I want you to say it."

"You sound like a whore. A dripping, desperate whore who's been neglected for eight months and finally has someone's fingers in her cunt."

Karina moaned—a long, wavering sound that rose in pitch as you increased your pace. Her fingers clawed at the sheets. Her ass lifted higher, presenting herself more openly, and you watched her cunt stretch around your fingers, the lips clinging to your knuckles every time you pulled back.

"More," she gasped. "More. I need more. I need—"

"You need what?"

"I need to come. Please. Please let me come. I've been so good. I swallowed everything. I didn't spill a drop. Please."

You slowed your fingers. Stopped them entirely, buried to the hilt inside her.

Karina whimpered. "No—no, why did you stop—"

"Because I want to hear you beg properly." You leaned down, your lips brushing the shell of her ear. "You're not Karina right now. You're not an idol. You're just a wet hole that wants to be filled. So beg like one."

A shudder ran through her body. Her voice, when it came, was smaller than before—stripped of the polish, stripped of everything except raw, naked need.

"Please fuck me with your fingers. Please make me come. I've been empty for so long. I've been so empty and so lonely and the only thing that's made me feel anything in months is your cock in my throat and your fingers on my nipples and now I need—I need you to let me finish. I need to feel something break inside me. Please. I'm begging you. I'm begging like the desperate slut I am. Please."

"Good girl."

You resumed fucking her with your fingers. Faster this time. Harder. The curl against her G-spot became a pounding rhythm, and Karina's whole body began to shake. Her thighs quivered. Her ass clenched and unclenched. The pillow was soaked with saliva and tears.

"I'm close—I'm so close—"

You pulled your fingers out.

"No!" The word was a howl. Her cunt gaped for a moment, empty and clenching on nothing, and then she collapsed forward onto the mattress. "Why? Why did you—I was right there—"

"Turn over."

She rolled onto her back. Her face was a wreck—eyes wild and glassy, cheeks blotchy with tears, lips still swollen from the blowjob. Her chest heaved. Her nipples stood out like dark berries against the pale swell of her breasts.

"Spread your legs."

She did. Her cunt was even more obscene from this angle—the lips engorged and spread, the inner flesh a slick, vivid pink, the hood of her clitoris pulled back to reveal the pearl beneath. Everything glistened.

"Touch yourself."

Karina's hand flew to her cunt. Her fingers found her clit and began rubbing in tight, frantic circles. Her other hand grabbed her breast, squeezing, pinching the nipple.

"That's it. Show me how you make yourself come when you're alone in this empty house."

"It's always you," she panted. "Not you—not you specifically—but someone. Someone who isn't him. Someone who wants me. I imagine—I imagine being taken. Being used. Being ruined." Her circles grew faster. "I imagine a stranger's cock. A stranger's hands. I imagine being bent over and fucked until I can't walk. Until I can't think. Until I forget my own name."

"And does your husband ever make you come?"

"Never. Not once. Not even—not even when we—ah—"

"Don't stop. Keep rubbing."

Her fingers were a blur on her clit. Her hips lifted off the mattress. The muscles in her stomach stood out in sharp definition. She was close again—you could see it in the flush spreading across her chest, the way her mouth fell open, the frantic, jerky movements of her hand.

"Please," she gasped. "Please let me—"

"Stop."

Her hand froze. A sound came out of her that wasn't human—a guttural, animal keen of pure frustration. Her clit twitched visibly, denied its release. Her cunt spasmed, squeezing around nothing, gushing a fresh surge of fluid that soaked the sheets.

"Fuck!" She slammed her fist against the mattress. "Fuck, fuck, fuck—"

You grabbed her wrist and pinned it above her head. "Look at me."

Karina's eyes met yours. They were wet and desperate and furious and grateful all at once.

"You said you wanted to be ruined. Ruined doesn't mean easy. Ruined doesn't mean I let you come the moment you ask nicely. Ruined means I take you apart piece by piece until there's nothing left but the animal underneath. Do you understand?"

"Yes." The word was barely a whisper.

"Do you still want this?"

"God, yes. Yes. Ruin me. Please. I want to be ruined."

You released her wrist. "Then get on your hands and knees. I want to see all of you."

Karina scrambled into position. The movement was ungraceful, uncoordinated—the idol's dancer precision abandoned in favor of pure, sloppy need. She presented herself on all fours, her back arched, her ass lifted high. The position opened her completely—her cunt a dark, wet gash between her thighs, her asshole a tight pink knot, everything glistening with the evidence of her arousal.

"Spread your ass cheeks."

Her hands reached back. Her fingers dug into the full flesh of her buttocks and pulled them apart, exposing herself more completely. The vulnerability of the gesture made your cock throb.

"Wider."

She stretched herself open until the pink of her cunt gaped slightly, until you could see the dark entrance of her body, the place where her wetness pooled and dripped in a slow, viscous thread onto the sheets.

"Please," she breathed. "Please ruin my pussy. I need your cock. I need it inside me. I've needed it since you walked through my door. Since before that. Since I first saw your picture in the agency file. Please. Fuck me. Fuck me like you hate me. Fuck me like I'm nothing."

You positioned yourself behind her.

Your cock was fully hard again—thick and veined, the head an angry purple, a bead of precum already forming at the slit. You gripped the base and ran the tip along her slit, coating yourself in her slick. The contact made her shudder.

"Is this what you want?"

"Yes—"

You pushed the head against her entrance. The heat of her cunt kissed the tip of your cock.

"Say it again. Louder."

"YES. Fuck me. Please fuck me. Ruin my pussy. I want to feel you in my womb. I want to feel you for days. I want to walk into my next schedule and still feel where you've been. Please—"

You thrust forward.

One motion. No gradual entry. No easing her open. You buried yourself to the hilt in a single, brutal stroke, and Karina's plea dissolved into a scream that had no words in it.

Her cunt was impossibly tight. The wet heat of her gripped every inch of you—a clenching, rippling pressure that traveled from base to tip. You felt the head of your cock butt against her cervix, felt the resistant give of that deepest barrier, and then you pushed past it.

Karina's scream pitched higher.

"Oh fuck—oh fuck, you're so deep—you're in my—"

"Your womb. I know."

You stayed there for a moment, buried to the root, letting her body adjust to the intrusion. Her inner walls fluttered around your shaft—spasms of sensation that were half pleasure, half shock. Her fingers were still digging into her ass cheeks, holding herself open, and you could see exactly where your bodies joined. The stretched ring of her cunt. The way her lips clung to the base of your cock. The shine of her fluids on your skin.

"You're taking all of it," you said. "Every inch. You feel that? Feel how deep I am?"

"Yes—yes, I feel it—I feel you in my stomach—"

"Good."

You pulled back. The drag of her walls against your shaft made your vision swim. Then you slammed forward again, harder than before, and Karina's head dropped between her shoulders, her whole body rocking forward from the force.

"AH—"

"Again."

Another thrust. Harder. The sound of your bodies colliding was a wet slap that echoed off the bedroom walls. Her ass rippled with the impact. Her breasts swung beneath her.

"You wanted to be ruined," you growled, gripping her hips. "So I'm going to ruin you. I'm going to fuck this tight little cunt until you can't remember your own name. Until you can't remember his name. Until the only thing in your head is my cock and how deep it is and how hard I'm using you."

"Yes—yes—fuck—harder—"

You gave her harder.

The rhythm you set was brutal—deep, driving strokes that bottomed out against her cervix with every thrust. The wet sounds of her cunt filled the room. Your balls slapped against her clit. Sweat dripped from your forehead onto her back, tracing rivulets down her spine.

Karina was making sounds that didn't belong to any language. Guttural moans. High-pitched whines. Broken syllables that might have been words if she'd had enough control to form them. Her fingers had released her ass cheeks and were now fisting in the sheets, knuckles white, arms trembling.

"Look at you. The most famous idol in Korea. On her hands and knees. Getting her pussy destroyed by a stranger. Moaning like an animal. This is what you needed, isn't it? Not the fame. Not the money. Not the perfect husband and the perfect house. This. Just this. Just a cock in your cunt and someone who knows how to use it."

"YES—YES, THIS—THIS IS WHAT I—OH FUCK—"

You reached around her body and found her clit. The bundle of nerves was swollen and slick, hard as a pebble under your fingertip. You pressed down and circled—not gently, not teasingly, but with the same brutal intensity as your thrusts.

Karina's whole body convulsed.

The orgasm hit her like a wave breaking against rocks. Her cunt clamped down on your cock with a force that almost hurt—a rhythmic, pulsing squeeze that traveled in waves from her core outward. Her back arched impossibly. Her head flew up, mouth open in a silent scream, eyes rolled back so far that only the whites were visible.

Then the sound came. A wail. A keening, animal cry that started low in her chest and rose to fill the room. Her arms gave out. She collapsed forward onto the mattress, but you followed her down, never stopping, never slowing, fucking her through the orgasm with the same relentless pace.

"Thaaaat's it—don't stop—don't stop—don't—I can't—it's too much—"

"You can take it. You wanted to be ruined. You're going to take every thrust until I'm done with you."

"It's too much—it's—oh god—OH GOD—"

A second orgasm crashed over her before the first had fully subsided. This one was stronger—violent, almost. Her cunt gushed around your cock, soaking your thighs, soaking the sheets. Her screams dissolved into sobs. Her body shook with a force that seemed to come from somewhere deeper than muscle, somewhere primal.

"Please—please—I can't—I can't take any more—"

"One more. Give me one more."

"I can't—I can't—"

"You can. Feel that? Feel how deep I am? Feel how full you are? That's what you needed. Not his empty house. Not his empty promises. This. A cock that fills you up. A body that knows how to use yours. Come for me again, Karina. Come on this cock like the desperate whore you told me you are."

Her response was unintelligible. A stream of syllables that might have been Korean, might have been English, might have been neither. A confession. A prayer. A surrender.

You drove into her harder—deeper, if that was even possible—and pressed your thumb against her clit. The stimulation was merciless. Her cunt seized around you. Her sobs pitched higher.

And then she shattered.

This orgasm was different from the others. Quieter. Deeper. Her body went rigid for a long, suspended moment—every muscle locked, every breath held. Then the release came, and it came with a flood. Her cunt gushed around your shaft—not just wetness this time, but a clear, copious fluid that sprayed against your thighs and soaked into the mattress beneath her.

Karina's voice broke on a single word: "Fuuuuck—"

Her body went limp. Completely limp. She collapsed into the wet sheets, her chest heaving, her limbs twitching with aftershocks. Her cunt still pulsed weakly around your cock—little flutters of sensation that traveled up your shaft.

You slowed your thrusts. Eased to a stop. Buried yourself deep inside her one last time and held there, feeling the heat of her body, the slick grip of her cunt, the violent thudding of her heart that you could feel through the walls of her core.

The room was silent except for her breathing—ragged, broken gasps that gradually slowed to something approaching normal.

"Are you still with me?" you asked.

A long pause. Then, muffled by the mattress: "I don't know. I think so. I think… I think that was…"

"That was what?"

"That was the first time. The first time anyone's ever—" She swallowed. The movement traveled through her whole body. "The first time anyone's ever made me come. Not just during sex. Ever."

You pulled out slowly. Her cunt made a wet, sucking sound as you withdrew—reluctant, almost, as if her body didn't want to let you go. A gush of fluid followed, clear and viscous, pooling on the already-soaked sheets.

Karina whimpered at the emptiness.

"Turn over," you said. "Look at me."

It took her a moment to find the strength. When she finally rolled onto her back, the sight of her made your chest tighten.

She was wrecked. Absolutely wrecked. Her face was blotchy with tears, her eyes swollen and glassy. Her lips—still puffy from the blowjob—were parted, a thin trail of drool connecting the corner of her mouth to her chin. Her nipples were dark and angry-looking, surrounded by faint marks where your fingers had been. Her thighs were slick with her own fluids. Her cunt gaped slightly, the lips engorged and spread, still pulsing with aftershocks.

She had never looked more beautiful.

"Thank you," she whispered.

"You don't have to thank me."

"I know. I want to." Her voice was hoarse—fucked raw, used up. "I've been numb for so long. I didn't even realize how numb until… until you made me feel all of this. The pain. The pleasure. The—the shame. The humiliation. I felt all of it. I'm still feeling it."

"And right now? How do you feel?"

Karina's eyes found yours. The glassiness was fading, replaced by something clearer. Something almost peaceful.

"Full," she said. "And sore. And wet. And tired. And…" A pause. "Alive. I feel alive."

You reached down and brushed a strand of sweat-damp hair away from her forehead. The gesture was gentle—a stark contrast to everything you'd just done to her body.

"Good," you said. "Because we're still not finished."

Her eyes widened. Then, slowly, a smile spread across her wrecked face—small and fragile and utterly genuine.

"I know," she said. "I was counting on it."

The shower was a rainfall fixture, wide enough for two, the water coming down in a steady, warm curtain. Steam fogged the glass enclosure. You stood behind Karina, cupping water in your palms and letting it run down her back. The rivulets tracked the geography you'd already memorized—the dip of her spine, the flare of her hips, the twin dimples just above the swell of her ass.

She leaned against the marble wall, forehead pressed to the cool stone.

"I can't feel my legs," she mumbled.

"That's normal."

"Is it?" A laugh, breathy and exhausted. "Good to know."

You reached for the body wash—something expensive, sandalwood and bergamot—and worked it into a lather between your hands. When you touched her shoulders, Karina sighed. The sound was different from the ones that had filled the bedroom an hour ago. Softer. Quieter. The sigh of a body that had been wrung dry and was finally allowed to rest.

Your hands moved down her back in slow circles. Over the faint red marks your fingers had left on her hips. Across the small of her back where sweat had pooled and dried. Down to the curve of her ass, where you kneaded the muscle with careful pressure.

"You're going to be sore tomorrow," you said.

"Good." Her voice was muffled against the marble. "I want to be sore. I want to remember."

"Remember what?"

She turned around. Water sluiced down her front, plastering her hair to her neck and shoulders. The mascara she hadn't been wearing was long gone, but her eyes were still rimmed with red, still slightly swollen. The marks on her nipples had darkened. Her lips—still puffy, still that deep bruised rose—curved into something that wasn't quite a smile.

"That I'm a real person. That someone wanted me. That for a few hours, I wasn't just a photograph."

You cupped her face. Your thumbs traced her cheekbones. "You were never just a photograph."

"You know what I mean."

"I do." You leaned down and kissed her forehead. Then the bridge of her nose. Then each eyelid, feather-light, the way you'd close a book you weren't finished reading. "But you need to hear it anyway. You're not what he made you feel. You were never what he made you feel."

Karina's breath shuddered out. Fresh tears mixed with the shower water—silent ones this time, not the wrenching sobs from before. She didn't answer. Didn't need to. You held her there in the steam until the water started to cool.

Later, wrapped in a robe that probably cost more than your monthly car payment, Karina walked you to the front door.

The foyer was different now. Less cavernous. The unopened flowers still sat on the console table, but something about them had shifted—they looked less like an accusation and more like a relic. A fossil from a life she was leaving behind.

She pressed a small folded paper into your palm.

"My real number," she said. "Not the one the agency has. Not the one my manager screens." Her fingers lingered on your wrist. "Call me. Or text me. I don't care which. Just… don't disappear."

You unfolded the paper. The handwriting was neat, precise—idol training, probably, years of signing autographs until every stroke was perfect. Ten digits. No name. She didn't need one.

"I won't disappear," you said.

"You say that now."

"I mean it." You caught her hand and lifted it to your lips. Kissed her knuckles. Then the inside of her wrist, where the skin was thin and the pulse still fluttered. "You survived eight months of being invisible in your own house. The least I can do is answer a text."

She laughed—a real one this time, short and surprised. "That's a low bar."

"I'm a simple man."

Karina pulled her hand back, but slowly, the way you set down something fragile. "Go. Before I ask you to stay."

You didn't say goodbye. The training had taught you better than that. Goodbye implied an ending, and endings were the one thing clients like Karina didn't need more of. Instead you stepped out into the cool night air, the paper clutched in your hand, and let the door click shut behind you.

Three weeks passed.

Senior Park called on a Tuesday.

"New client," he said, the way he always did—like he was offering you a gift and daring you to guess what was inside. "Young. Married. The usual story."

"The usual story" had become a kind of shorthand between you. Rich husband. Neglected wife. A mansion full of expensive things and no warmth. You'd heard it so many times now that the details blurred together—only the faces changed, and even those were starting to feel familiar. Actresses. Idols. The wives of men who'd acquired beauty like a stock portfolio and then forgotten to check on it.

"Who is it?" you asked.

A pause. Park was savoring this.

"Jang Wonyoung."

The name hit you like a bucket of cold water.

"Wonyoung? From IVE?"

"The one and only." You could hear the grin in his voice. "Married at twenty-eight. To Kim Seok-joong. The producer. You know him?"

Everyone knew him. Kim Seok-joong had produced half the hits on the charts for the last five years—a genius behind the mixing board, a tyrant in the studio, and, according to every rumor mill in the industry, a man who treated marriage vows like a suggestion. The tabloids had run photos of him leaving clubs with trainees young enough to be his daughters. Wonyoung's name always appeared in the same articles, usually paired with words like "humiliated" and "trapped."

"She called us directly," Park continued. "Apparently she heard about us through a mutual acquaintance. Someone who spoke very highly of your work."

You thought of Karina. Of the paper still folded in your wallet.

"Mutual acquaintance?"

"I don't ask. I don't want to know. I just make the arrangements." The rustle of paper on his end. "She's in Hannam-dong. The penthouse. Tomorrow night, nine o'clock. Don't be late."

The line went dead.

Hannam-dong at night was a different kind of wealth than the gated mansions of the suburbs. Here the money went vertical—glass towers that stabbed into the sky, each floor a monument to someone's ambition. The penthouse elevator required a code, which Senior Park had texted you an hour earlier along with a single line: She's nervous. Go slow.

The elevator ascended in silence. No muzak. No mirrored walls. Just brushed steel and the soft hum of hydraulics. You watched the floor numbers climb and tried not to think about the fact that Jang Wonyoung was waiting at the top of this building. Jang Wonyoung, who'd debuted at fourteen and been famous before she could legally drive. Jang Wonyoung, whose face had sold a million magazines. Jang Wonyoung, who'd married a man twice her age and apparently regretted it before the ink on the certificate was dry.

The doors opened onto a private foyer.

The penthouse was smaller than Karina's mansion—everything in Seoul was smaller than Karina's mansion—but it made up for it in verticality. Floor-to-ceiling windows looked out over the Han River, the city lights reflected in the water like scattered coins. The furniture was minimalist: a low white sofa, a glass coffee table, a single orchid in a concrete pot. No photographs. No personal touches. It looked less like a home and more like a hotel suite where someone had been staying for too long.

Wonyoung stood at the window with her back to you.

She was taller than you'd expected. Taller than she looked on stage, where the camera angles and the choreography and the other members had a way of shrinking her. In person, barefoot on the marble floor, she was statuesque—long legs, a narrow waist, the kind of proportions that designers fought to dress. She wore an ivory silk robe that fell to her ankles, her dark hair loose and straight, still damp at the ends as if she'd just showered.

"It's a nice view," you said.

She didn't turn around. "I used to think so."

Her voice was different from Karina's. Lower. Flatter. Where Karina's words had crackled with suppressed fury, Wonyoung's came out like the air leaking from a tire—slow, deflated, resigned.

You stepped further into the room. "Senior Park said you wanted to meet me."

"Meet you." A short laugh. "That's a polite way of putting it."

"I can leave."

"Can you?" Now she turned. The sight of her face hit you like a physical force—the kind of beauty that felt almost aggressive, all sharp angles and full lips and eyes that were too big for her face. But there was something hollow behind them. Something that had been scooped out and never filled back in. "You can leave. You can stay. You can do whatever you want. I'm just… here."

"How long have you been 'just here'?"

Wonyoung crossed her arms over her chest. The robe was silk, thin enough that you could see the outline of her body beneath it—the curve of her breasts, the flat plane of her stomach, the long lines of her thighs. She wasn't trying to be seductive. She wasn't trying to be anything. That was the most unsettling part.

"A year," she said. "Maybe longer. I stopped counting."

"A year of what?"

"Of waiting. Of pretending. Of showing up to award shows on his arm while everyone in the audience knows he fucked one of his backup dancers the night before." Her jaw tightened. "Do you know what that's like? To smile for cameras while your husband's mistress is standing ten feet away, adjusting her earpiece?"

You didn't answer. You'd learned with Karina that sometimes the best response was no response—just the space to let the words hang in the air until they lost their poison.

Wonyoung uncrossed her arms. Let them fall to her sides. "I'm not looking for sympathy."

"Then what are you looking for?"

"The same thing everyone who calls your agency is looking for." She met your eyes, and for a moment the hollowness flickered—replaced by something harder. Something almost defiant. "I want to feel like I exist. Like I'm not just… a decoration. A trophy. Something he acquired and then forgot about."

"How old are you?"

"Twenty-nine."

"And how old is he?"

A pause. "Fifty-two."

You let the number sit there. Fifty-two. Older than her father, probably. Old enough to know better. Old enough to treat a twenty-eight-year-old bride like a collectible—desirable right up until the moment the paperwork was signed, and then irrelevant.

"What does he say when you confront him?" you asked.

Wonyoung's laugh was empty. "He doesn't. He just… leaves. Goes to the studio. Comes back three days later smelling like someone else's perfume. And I'm supposed to pretend I don't notice. I'm supposed to be grateful. He made my career, after all. Half my songs were his. Half my image. Half my life." Her voice cracked on the last word. "I was nineteen when I met him. I didn't know anything. I thought it was love."

"What do you think it was now?"

"Ownership." The word came out flat. "He didn't want a wife. He wanted a muse. Something beautiful to inspire him. And now he's inspired by someone else, and I'm just… here. In this penthouse. With this view. Waiting for him to come home and pretending I don't know where he's been."

You moved closer. Not close enough to touch—not yet—but close enough that she had to tilt her head slightly to keep meeting your eyes.

"What do you want from tonight?"

Wonyoung held your gaze. The defiance was back, stronger now, warring with the exhaustion. "I want to stop waiting. I want to be touched by someone who actually wants to touch me. I want…" She swallowed. "I want to feel like a woman instead of a photograph. Does that make sense?"

"Perfect sense."

"And you can do that? You can… give me that?"

"I can give you whatever you're willing to take." You held out your hand, palm up, the same way you had with Karina three weeks ago. "But I need to hear you say it. I need to know you're sure."

Wonyoung looked at your hand. The hesitation was visible—the same hesitation every client had, the moment before they crossed the line from thinking about it to doing it. The moment where the life they'd been living warred with the life they wanted.

Then she took it.

"I'm sure," she said. "I've been sure for six months. I just didn't know who to call."

"Your safeword?"

"Red."

"And if you can't speak?"

"Three taps. Anywhere you can feel them."

Her palm was cool against yours. Her fingers were long and slender—pianist's fingers, though you knew she didn't play. The silk of her robe brushed against your wrist.

"Before we start," you said, "I want you to know something."

"What?"

"This isn't about your husband. This isn't about revenge. This isn't about making him feel what you've been feeling." You squeezed her hand gently. "This is about you. Right now. In this room. Nothing else exists. Do you understand?"

Wonyoung's lips parted. For a moment she looked younger—not twenty-nine, but nineteen again, standing in a studio somewhere and believing that the famous producer who'd noticed her was offering her the world.

"I understand," she said.

"Good. Now take off the robe."

She released your hand. Her fingers went to the sash at her waist, the silk loosening with a whisper. The robe slipped off her shoulders. Pooled at her feet.

Underneath she wore nothing at all.

Her body was long and lean, with the kind of proportions that seemed almost impossible outside of a magazine spread. Small, high breasts with nipples the color of pale tea. A waist that nipped in dramatically before flaring into hips that had launched a thousand fan cams. Long legs, smooth and toned, the muscles of a dancer visible beneath the skin. A dark triangle of hair at the junction of her thighs, neatly trimmed.

But what struck you most wasn't the beauty. It was the stillness. Karina had been trembling with suppressed energy, her body practically vibrating with need. Wonyoung stood completely motionless, her arms at her sides, her expression unreadable. She looked like a statue—beautiful and cold and utterly detached from the body she occupied.

"You're very beautiful," you said.

"I know." Not arrogant. Just… factual. "People tell me that a lot."

"Do you believe them?"

A flicker of something—surprise, maybe, or confusion. "What?"

"Do you believe them? When they tell you you're beautiful. Do you feel beautiful?"

Wonyoung's brow furrowed. "I don't… I don't know what you mean."

"I think you do." You circled her slowly, the way you'd circle a sculpture in a gallery. "You've been told you're beautiful your whole life. It's on every magazine cover. Every comment section. Every introduction. But when you look in the mirror, what do you see?"

Her voice was quieter now. "I see what everyone else sees."

"That's not what I asked."

You stopped behind her. The view from here was just as striking—the sweep of her back, the curve of her ass, the way her hair fell in a dark curtain between her shoulder blades. She hadn't turned to follow you. She was still facing the window, still looking at the river and the lights.

"I asked what you see," you continued. "Not what they see. Not what the cameras see. What you see."

The silence stretched. Outside, a boat moved across the Han River, its lights reflecting in the dark water.

"Nothing," Wonyoung said finally. "I see nothing. I see a body that exists to be looked at. A face that exists to be photographed. When I look in the mirror, I don't see a person. I see…" She trailed off.

"A product."

"Yes." The word was barely audible. "A product. Something that was packaged and sold before I understood what I was agreeing to."

You stepped closer. Close enough that the heat of your body registered against her bare back. Close enough that if she leaned back even an inch, she'd be touching you.

"That ends tonight," you said. "Tonight, you're not a product. You're not a photograph. You're not what your husband neglected or what the cameras captured. You're a woman. Just a woman. And I'm going to make you feel like one."

Wonyoung's breathing had changed. Shallower. Faster. Her shoulders rose and fell in the window's reflection.

"How?" she asked.

"First, I'm going to touch you. Not the way a photographer touches you. Not the way a stylist touches you. I'm going to touch you the way a man touches a woman he wants." You raised your hand and let it hover just above her shoulder—not making contact, but close enough that she could feel the heat of your palm. "And you're going to stand right here and let yourself feel it. All of it. Every sensation. Do you understand?"

Her voice was a whisper. "Yes."

"Good."

You let your hand settle on her shoulder.

The contact was light—just your palm against her skin, your fingers curving over the ridge of her collarbone. But Wonyoung's reaction was immediate. Her breath stuttered. Her spine stiffened. The muscles beneath your hand went rigid, then slowly, gradually, began to soften.

"When's the last time someone touched you?" you asked.

"I don't…" She swallowed. "I don't remember."

"Months?"

"Longer. Before the wedding, maybe. He was… interested then. Before he had me. After that…" She shook her head.

You moved your hand down her arm. Slowly. Deliberately. Letting your fingers trace the curve of her bicep, the dip of her elbow, the smooth skin of her forearm. Goosebumps rose in the wake of your touch.

"Close your eyes," you said.

She did. Her lashes swept down against her cheeks, dark against the pale skin.

"Now I want you to focus on what you're feeling. Not what you're thinking. Not what you're worried about. Just the physical sensation. My hand on your skin. The heat of my body behind you. The cool air on the rest of you. Can you do that?"

"I can try."

"Don't try. Just do."

You brought your other hand to her waist. The silk of the robe had been thin, but her bare skin was thinner—softer, warmer, alive in a way the fabric never could be. You felt the slight give of flesh over muscle, the delicate architecture of her ribs. Wonyoung's lips parted. A tremor ran through her.

"Good," you murmured. "That's it. Stay present. Stay here."

Your hands moved together now—one sliding up to cup her breast, the other tracing the curve of her hip. The contact was gentle, almost reverent. You weren't trying to arouse her yet. You were trying to wake her up. To remind her body that it was capable of sensation beyond the clinical touches of stylists and makeup artists and the indifferent hands of a husband who'd long since stopped seeing her as anything but an acquisition.

Her breast was small and firm, fitting perfectly in your palm. The nipple was already tightening—an involuntary response, the body's language for yes, this, more. You circled it with your thumb, not quite touching the peak, letting the anticipation build.

"Oh," she breathed. Just that. Just the single syllable, but it was the most human sound she'd made since you'd arrived.

"You feel that?"

"Yes."

"What does it feel like?"

"Warm. It feels… warm. And tingly. Like—like pins and needles, but soft."

"That's your body waking up." You brushed your thumb across her nipple, finally making contact. The peak was hard now, pebbled and tight. Wonyoung's breath caught. Her hips shifted—an instinctive movement, barely conscious. "That's your body remembering what it feels like to be touched."

"Don't stop," she whispered.

"I'm not stopping. I'm just getting started."

You turned her around to face you. Her eyes were still closed, her lips slightly parted, a flush spreading across her chest. The cool, detached statue from five minutes ago was already beginning to thaw.

"Open your eyes," you said.

She did. The hollowness was still there, but it had receded slightly—pushed back by something warmer. Something hungrier.

"Lie down on the bed," you said. "On your back. I'm going to touch every inch of you, and you're going to stay present for all of it. No disappearing. No retreating into your head. You're going to feel everything. Do you understand?"

Wonyoung's voice was steadier now. "Yes."

"Good. Then let's begin."

She walked toward the bedroom—the same statuesque stride, but looser now, less guarded. The ivory robe stayed in a puddle on the floor behind her, already forgotten.

You followed her. The penthouse bedroom was all windows on one side, the city lights glittering below like a mirror image of the stars. A king-sized bed dominated the center of the room. White sheets. Too many pillows. The same story, different setting.

Wonyoung lay down in the center of the mattress. Arranged herself with her arms at her sides, her hair spread across the pillow, her legs slightly apart. The position was almost clinical—like she was posing for a photograph. Muscle memory.

"Relax your arms," you said. "Above your head."

She lifted them. The movement pulled her breasts higher, flattened her stomach.

"Close your eyes."

Her lashes swept down.

You knelt on the bed beside her. In the silence, you could hear her breathing—quicker than before, but still controlled. Still holding onto something. You would need to break through that control. Not with force. With patience. With attention. With the kind of touch she'd been starved of for years.

"Now," you said, letting your hand hover over her stomach. "Let's find out what Jang Wonyoung feels like when she stops being a photograph and starts being a woman."

Your palm settled on her skin.

And Wonyoung began to tremble.

Your palm settled on Wonyoung's stomach.

The trembling started small—a flutter of muscle beneath warm skin—then spread outward, rippling through her thighs, her belly, the flat plane of her chest. She kept her eyes closed, arms still arranged above her head in that posing-for-a-photograph way that had become second nature.

"You're shaking," you said.

"I know." Her voice was thinner now. "I can't seem to stop."

"Don't stop. Let it happen."

Your hand moved in a slow circle, tracing the faint definition of her abdominal muscles. The skin here was softer than you'd expected—yielding, warm, the kind of softness that came from being young and healthy and well-cared-for in every way except the one that mattered. Wonyoung's breath stuttered when your palm grazed the bottom of her ribcage.

"What are you feeling?"

"Your hand." A pause. "It's… warmer than I expected."

"What else?"

"I don't know. It's been so long since—" She swallowed. The movement traveled down her throat, a subtle ripple. "Since anyone touched me without an agenda. My stylists touch me to adjust my clothes. Photographers touch me to fix my hair. Seok-joong…" The name came out like a curse. "He doesn't touch me at all."

You traced the lower curve of her breast. Not the nipple—not yet—just the swell where her chest began to rise. The skin was impossibly smooth, pale as cream in the city light streaming through the windows.

"When's the last time you touched yourself?"

Wonyoung's eyes opened. The question had surprised her. "What?"

"You heard me."

"I don't…" Her brow furrowed. "I don't do that."

"You don't masturbate?"

The word made her flinch. A tiny recoil, barely visible, but you caught it. "That's not something I—I mean, I've never really—"

"Never?" You kept your hand where it was, still and warm against the curve of her breast. "You've never made yourself come?"

Wonyoung closed her eyes again. A flush was spreading from her chest up her neck, blooming across her collarbones like spilled wine. "Once. Maybe twice. A long time ago. Before I debuted. Before everything got so…" She trailed off.

"So controlled."

"Yes."

"Show me."

Her eyes flew open. "What?"

"Sit up." You withdrew your hand and sat back on your heels. "I want to watch you touch yourself. I want to see how Jang Wonyoung pleasures her own body when no one else is looking."

The hesitation was visible—a war playing out behind her eyes. The trained idol, the curated image, the woman who'd spent her entire adult life being looked at without ever being touched. Then something shifted. A crack in the facade. Her lips parted.

"Okay," she whispered.

She sat up slowly. The movement was graceful despite her trembling—dancer's muscle memory, the body knowing what to do even when the mind was unmoored. She propped herself against the headboard, the white sheets pooling around her hips. Her breasts were small and high on her chest, the nipples still tight from your earlier attention.

"Lie back," you said. "Spread your legs. Let me see all of you."

Wonyoung arranged herself against the pillows. Her thighs parted with visible reluctance—not resistance, but the shyness of a woman who'd been taught that her body was a commodity, not a source of pleasure. The dark triangle of hair between her legs was neatly trimmed, the lips beneath barely visible in the dim light.

"Touch your breasts first," you said. "The way you like it."

Her hands lifted. The movement was hesitant, almost clinical, like she was examining herself rather than pleasuring herself. Her fingers brushed her nipples and she gasped—a sharp, surprised sound.

"That's it. They're sensitive, aren't they?"

"Yes—I didn't know—no one's ever—"

"No one's ever played with your nipples?"

"No." The word came out strangled. Her fingers circled the tight peaks, tracing the areolae with tentative strokes. "Seok-joong said breasts were for—ah—for looking at. Not for—"

"Not for touching."

"Not for touching."

You watched her hands grow bolder. The circles became pinches—gentle at first, then harder, the way you'd done earlier. Her back arched slightly. Her mouth fell open.

"Good girl. Now move one hand lower. Touch yourself between your legs."

Wonyoung's right hand slid down her stomach. The trembling was worse now—her whole body vibrating with a tension that had nothing to do with cold and everything to do with the forbidden nature of what she was doing. Her fingers reached the dark curls and stopped.

"I don't know if I can—"

"You can. Part your lips for me. Show me your cunt."

The vulgar word made her gasp. But her fingers obeyed—they slid through the trimmed hair, parted the outer lips, exposed the pink flesh within. Even from where you knelt, you could see the gleam of moisture. The way her inner lips clung together, then separated with a wet, sticky sound.

"You're wet," you said. "You're wet and you haven't even touched your clit yet."

"Is that—is that normal?"

"It's more than normal. It's beautiful. You're beautiful." You leaned closer. "Now find your clit. The little pearl at the top. Touch it."

Wonyoung's middle finger found the swollen bud. The contact made her whole body jerk. A sound escaped her—half moan, half whimper—and her thighs snapped shut around her hand.

"Keep them open. I want to watch."

"I can't—it's too—"

"You can. Open your legs, Wonyoung. Let me see what your body does when you stop being a photograph."

She forced her thighs apart. The effort was visible—muscles trembling, breath coming in sharp, ragged bursts. Her finger began to circle her clit in slow, tentative strokes. The hood pulled back with each pass, revealing the slick pearl beneath. Her other hand stayed on her breast, pinching and rolling the nipple in counterpoint.

"There," she breathed. "Oh—there—that feels—"

"What does it feel like?"

"Tight. Hot. Like—like something's building. Like I need to—" Her circling grew faster. "Like I need to—"

"You need to come."

"Yes." The word was a sob. "Yes. I need to come. Please. I've never—not with anyone watching—not with anyone—"

"Come for me, Wonyoung. Let go. I've got you."

Her body seized. Her back arched off the mattress, her head thrown back, her mouth open in a silent scream. The hand between her legs moved frantically—rubbing, pressing, chasing the climax that was crashing over her. A keening sound escaped her throat, high and desperate.

Then she collapsed.

Her chest heaved. Her thighs quivered. The hand on her breast fell away, and the other remained pressed against her cunt—not moving now, just holding, as if she couldn't bear to let go of the sensation.

"That was your first orgasm with an audience," you said.

Wonyoung's laugh was breathless, almost giddy. "That was my first orgasm. Period. I don't think the other times—I don't think they were real. Not like that."

"Not like that."

"No." She opened her eyes and looked at you. The hollowness was gone—replaced by something brighter, something almost hungry. "I want more. I want—" She swallowed. "I want you inside me. But I want to be in control. Just this once. I want to decide."

You raised an eyebrow. "You want to ride me."

"Yes." The word came out stronger now. "I've spent my whole life being positioned. Being told where to stand and how to pose and what to wear. I want—just this once—I want to be the one who decides. Does that make sense?"

"It makes perfect sense."

You stood up from the bed and unbuckled your pants. Wonyoung watched with open curiosity—the way her eyes tracked the movement of your hands, the way her lips parted when you pushed your boxers down and your cock sprang free. She'd seen it earlier, of course, but now she looked at it differently. Like she was sizing it up. Like she was planning.

"It's thicker than I thought," she murmured.

"Is that a problem?"

"No." A small smile played at the corner of her mouth. "It's just… I've never seen one this close before. Not like this. Seok-joong and I—the few times we—it was always in the dark. Always over quickly. He never let me look."

"Look all you want."

She did. Her gaze traveled the length of your shaft—the vein that pulsed along the underside, the ridge of the head, the way the skin pulled tight when you were fully hard. Her tongue darted out and wet her lips.

"Lie down," she said. "On your back."

You obeyed. The sheets were cool against your shoulders. Wonyoung rose on her knees and swung one long leg over your hips, straddling you. The position put her cunt directly above your cock—you could see the pink of her inner lips, still slick from her orgasm, still parted and ready. A drop of her arousal fell onto your stomach.

"Like this?" she asked.

"Reverse."

"What?"

"Turn around. Face my feet. Reverse cowgirl."

Wonyoung blinked. Then understanding dawned, and with it came something you hadn't seen on her face before—a flicker of genuine excitement. "I've seen this position. In… things I've watched. When I was alone."

"Then you know how it works."

She turned around. The movement was awkward—she had to lift one leg, then the other, bracing herself with a hand on your thigh—but the awkwardness was part of the appeal. She wasn't performing. She wasn't posing. She was just a woman figuring out how to take what she wanted.

When she settled into position, facing away from you, the view was spectacular. The long sweep of her back. The curve of her ass, round and firm. The dark cleft between her cheeks, and below that, her cunt—still wet, still open, positioned directly above your cock.

"Reach back," you said. "Take hold of me."

Her hand fumbled behind her. Fingers brushed your shaft, then your balls, then closed around the base. Her grip was tentative—too light, too careful—but she guided the head to her entrance anyway. The contact made her gasp.

"Oh god. You're so—I can feel how big you are just from this—"

"Take your time. You're in control."

Wonyoung lowered herself an inch. The head of your cock pressed against her opening, parting the slick lips. The heat of her was incredible—wet and tight and pulsing with the aftershocks of her orgasm. She stopped there, breathing hard, her thighs trembling on either side of your hips.

"I don't know if I can—"

"You can. Slowly. Just a little at a time."

She sank down another inch. The head slipped inside her, and Wonyoung cried out—a sharp, startled sound that was half pain and half pleasure. Her inner walls clenched around you, a rippling squeeze that traveled from tip to base.

"Fuck—fuck, you're stretching me—"

"You're doing so well. Take what you need."

Another inch. Then another. Her cunt was impossibly tight—tighter than Karina's, tighter than anyone you'd been with in recent memory. The walls gripped you like a fist, hot and slick and pulsing. Wonyoung's breathing had gone ragged. Her head dropped forward. Her hands braced on your thighs, nails digging in.

"I'm only halfway—oh god—I'm only halfway and I already feel so full—"

"Keep going. You wanted control. Take it."

She took it. Her hips dropped the rest of the way, and your cock buried itself to the hilt inside her. Wonyoung screamed. The sound was raw and uncontrolled—nothing like the polished idol voice, nothing like the careful, measured tones she'd used earlier. This was pure animal. Pure sensation.

"Oh fuck—oh fuck—you're in my stomach—I can feel you in my stomach—"

"Good. Now move."

She lifted her hips. The drag of her walls against your shaft made your vision swim. When she dropped back down, the impact sent a visible ripple through her ass. The cheeks jiggled with the force of it.

"Yes—" She did it again. Faster. "Yes—this is—this is what I wanted—this is what I needed—"

"Tell me what it feels like."

"Full. So full. Like—like I'm being split open. Like I'm being—ah—like I'm being claimed." She was moving faster now, finding a rhythm, her hips rolling in a way that spoke to years of dance training. The muscles in her back flexed and released with each stroke. "But I'm the one claiming you. I'm the one—I'm the one in control—"

"That's right. You're in control. Take your pleasure, Wonyoung. Take all of it."

Her pace quickened. The wet sounds of her cunt filled the bedroom—a slick, rhythmic slap every time she bottomed out. Your cock was coated in her arousal, glistening in the city light. She reached back with one hand and grabbed your chest—not for balance, but for leverage, pulling herself harder onto you with each stroke.

"Touch my—touch my breasts—please—I need—"

You reached up and cupped her breasts from behind. The position was awkward but the effect was immediate—Wonyoung's rhythm faltered, then resumed faster than before. You pinched her nipples and she sobbed.

"Yes—yes—harder—"

You twisted. She keened. Her hips became a blur—up and down, up and down, fucking herself on your cock with a desperation that bordered on violence. Her head was thrown back now, her dark hair cascading down her spine, her whole body sheened with sweat.

"I'm close—I'm getting close again—I can feel it building—"

"Look at you. Jang Wonyoung. The nation's sweetheart. Riding a stranger's cock in her marital bed. Moaning like an animal. Dripping down my thighs."

"Yes—yes—I'm dripping—I'm making a mess—Seok-joong would hate this—he'd hate how wet I am—he'd hate how—how much I love it—"

"How much do you love it?"

"So much—so fucking much—I love being full—I love being stretched—I love being in control—I love that you're letting me—" Her voice cracked. "I love that you're letting me take what I need—"

The tears started then.

They came without warning—a sudden spill from her eyes, tracking down her cheeks and dripping onto your thighs. Her rhythm faltered. Her breathing hitched and broke into sobs.

"I'm sorry—I'm sorry—I don't know why I'm—"

"Don't stop." You squeezed her breasts gently. "Don't apologize. Keep moving. Let it out."

"I can't—I can't stop crying—" But her hips kept moving. Slower now, but still moving. "It's just—it's been so long—I've been so alone—"

"I know."

"No one touches me. No one looks at me. No one wants me. I'm just—I'm just a thing he bought and forgot about—"

"You're not a thing. You're a woman. A beautiful, passionate woman who deserves to be touched and wanted and pleasured. Keep moving. Let yourself feel it."

The sobs grew louder. Her hips moved faster, chasing the release that was building despite—or maybe because of—the tears. Her hand tightened on your chest, nails digging crescents into your skin.

"I want to come—please—please let me come—"

"It's yours. Take it. Come on my cock, Wonyoung. Come while you're crying. Come while you're in control. Show me what you look like when you let go."

She shattered.

The orgasm hit her like a wave—a convulsive, full-body spasm that made her back arch and her thighs clamp around your hips. Her cunt seized around your shaft, a rhythmic pulsing that milked you from base to tip. The scream that tore from her throat was wordless and raw, echoing off the penthouse windows.

And then she squirted.

The fluid gushed around your cock—a hot, copious flood that soaked your thighs and the sheets beneath you. Wonyoung's hips kept moving through it, grinding down onto you, drawing out every pulse of her climax. The squelching sounds were obscene. Her sobs mingled with moans.

"Oh god—oh god, I'm still—it's still going—I can't stop—"

"Don't stop. Take everything."

She rode the orgasm until her thighs gave out. Then she collapsed backward, her spine landing against your chest, her head falling back onto your shoulder. Her cunt was still spasming weakly around your cock. Her chest heaved. Her face was a wreck—tears and sweat and smeared mascara that she hadn't been wearing.

You wrapped your arms around her waist and held her.

The silence stretched. Outside, the Han River glittered in the darkness, indifferent to everything happening in this penthouse. Wonyoung's breathing gradually slowed. The tremors in her thighs subsided.

"Thank you," she whispered.

"You don't have to thank me."

"I know. I want to." She turned her head, her cheek pressed against your chest. "No one's ever… I've never cried during sex before. I've never cried at all. Not since the wedding. I thought I'd forgotten how."

"Tears are just your body's way of releasing what you've been holding too long."

She laughed—a small, wet sound. "You sound like a therapist."

"I've had practice."

Silence again. Then, quieter: "Will you stay? Not—not for more sex. Just… stay. Until I fall asleep. I don't want to be alone tonight."

You pressed a kiss to her damp temple. "I'll stay."

Wonyoung sighed. The sound was different from before—not resignation, but relief. The relief of a woman who'd finally let go of something she'd been carrying for years.

"Good," she murmured. "That's good."

She closed her eyes. In the penthouse bedroom, with the city lights glittering below and your cock still half-hard inside her, Jang Wonyoung finally stopped trembling.

You held her until her breathing evened out. Until her body went slack against yours. Until the tears on her cheeks dried to salt and the wetness between her thighs cooled on your skin.

Tomorrow, you'd leave. Tomorrow, she'd go back to being Jang Wonyoung, idol-turned-trophy-wife, and you'd go back to whatever Senior Park had lined up next.

But tonight, she wasn't a photograph. Tonight, she was just a woman who'd remembered how to feel.

And that, you'd learned, was worth more than any paycheck the agency could offer.

Waking came in stages.

First, the soft gray light of early morning pressing against your eyelids. The penthouse windows had no curtains—Wonyoung liked to wake with the sun, you'd learn later—and the Han River was a sheet of hammered silver outside the glass.

Second, the weight. Or rather, the absence of it. Sometime in the night she'd shifted off your chest, and now the mattress beside you was warm but empty.

Third, the sensation.

Wet. Hot. A rhythmic pressure that started at the base of your cock and traveled upward in slow, deliberate pulls. Your hips stirred before your mind caught up—an instinctive response, the body recognizing pleasure before the brain had finished booting up.

You opened your eyes.

Wonyoung was between your legs.

Her dark hair spilled across your thighs in a tangled mess, still sleep-mussed from the night before. The sheet had slipped off her shoulders, leaving her bare—the long sweep of her spine, the curve of her ass, the soles of her feet crossed at the ankle behind her. She'd positioned herself on her stomach, propped on her elbows, and her mouth was wrapped around your cock.

She was still learning. The technique was messier than Karina's had been—more enthusiasm than skill, more eagerness than precision. Her tongue moved in uncertain patterns, tracing the ridge of the head, then the vein underneath, then back again as if she couldn't decide which part she wanted to taste most. Saliva pooled at the corners of her lips and dripped down your shaft, slicking her fingers where they curled around the base.

But what she lacked in experience, she made up for in something else. Something rarer.

She was happy.

You could see it in the way her cheeks bunched—the muscles straining to smile even with her lips stretched wide. In the little hums that vibrated through your shaft every time she took you deeper. In the way her hips wiggled slightly, a tiny dance of satisfaction, like a cat kneading a favorite blanket.

You chuckled. The sound was rough with sleep.

Wonyoung's eyes flicked up to meet yours. They were clearer than they'd been last night—the hollowness replaced by something bright and mischievous. She didn't stop sucking. If anything, she redoubled her efforts, her head bobbing faster, her tongue working the underside of your shaft with renewed determination.

"What a cheeky girl," you murmured.

Your hand found her head. Your fingers threaded through the dark tangles of her hair, not pulling, not directing—just holding. Just letting her feel the weight of your palm against her scalp. Wonyoung's eyes fluttered closed. The hum she made this time was different—softer, more satisfied. A sound of pure contentment.

She pulled back until just the tip remained in her mouth. Her tongue circled the head—once, twice, a slow figure-eight that made your breath catch. Then she pushed forward again, taking you deeper than before, and you felt the head of your cock bump the back of her throat.

She gagged. Coughed. Pulled back with a wet, gasping laugh.

"Too much?" you asked.

"Not enough." Her voice was hoarse—fucked raw from the night before, from the screaming and the crying and now this. "I wanted to… I woke up and you were still here and I just wanted to…"

"To what?"

"To taste you. Before you left." She rested her cheek against your thigh, her breath warm on your damp skin. "Is that weird?"

"No." You stroked her hair. "It's not weird."

"I've never done that before. The morning thing. I've never woken up next to someone and thought… I want to make them feel good. Just because." Her fingers traced idle patterns on your hip. "I've never woken up next to anyone, actually. Seok-joong never stayed the night. Even when we were engaged. He said he couldn't sleep in unfamiliar beds."

"His own bed was unfamiliar?"

Wonyoung's laugh was bitter. "I was the unfamiliar part."

You sat up. The movement dislodged her from your thigh, and she rose with you—sitting back on her heels, her hair a wild curtain around her shoulders, her lips swollen and slick. The morning light caught the angles of her face, the sharp cheekbones and the full mouth, and for a moment she looked exactly like the magazine covers. The nation's sweetheart. The girl who'd debuted at fourteen and never stopped smiling for cameras.

But the smile she gave you now was different. Smaller. Realer. A smile that belonged to her and no one else.

"Come here," you said.

She came. You gathered her in your arms and lifted her—bridal style, her long legs draped over one arm, her head cradled against your shoulder. She was lighter than you'd expected. All those years of dieting for comebacks, probably. All those years of being told she needed to be smaller, thinner, more perfect.

"The shower," you said. "We're both a mess."

"Your fault." But she was grinning as she said it.

"Entirely."

The bathroom was all white marble and chrome fixtures, with a rainfall showerhead even larger than Karina's. You set Wonyoung down on the heated tile floor—her bare feet made a soft sound against the stone—and reached into the glass enclosure to turn on the water. Steam began to fill the room almost immediately.

She stepped into the shower first. You followed.

The water was hot but not scalding, beating down on your shoulders and back in a steady rhythm. Wonyoung tilted her face up into the spray, letting it run over her closed eyelids and down her throat. The mascara she hadn't been wearing was still absent, and without it she looked younger. Not twenty-nine. Not the weary trophy wife from last night. Just a woman in the morning, clean and bare and unguarded.

You reached for the body wash—something floral, jasmine maybe—and worked it into a lather between your palms.

"Turn around," you said.

She did. You started with her shoulders, the same way you had with Karina. The same ritual. The same aftercare. The same reminder that what happened in the bedroom wasn't just about sex—it was about being seen. Being handled. Being treated like a body that mattered.

Wonyoung sighed as your hands moved down her back. "You do this for all your clients?"

"The shower?"

"The… gentleness. The talking. The staying until morning."

"Most of them." You worked the soap into the dip of her spine, the curve of her hips. "The ones who need it."

"And how do you know which ones need it?"

You turned her around to face you. Water sluiced down between you, washing away the suds. Her eyes were level with your collarbone; she had to tilt her head back to meet your gaze.

"Because they're the ones who cry," you said. "And you cried."

Wonyoung's expression flickered—something passing through it too fast to name. Then she reached up and took the body wash from the shelf behind you. Poured some into her own palm. Worked it into a lather.

"Your turn," she said.

Her hands on your chest were tentative at first—the same hesitance from last night, the same uncertainty about what she was allowed to do. But as she grew bolder, her touch firmed. Her palms traced the lines of your pectorals, the ridges of your abdomen, the V of your hips. She was washing you, but she was also learning you. Mapping the geography of a body that wasn't hers.

"You're different from what I expected," she said.

"Different how?"

"I don't know. Less… transactional." She rinsed her hands under the spray. "When I called the agency, I thought it would be like ordering room service. Something mechanical. Something I could pretend didn't happen afterward. But this is…"

"This is?"

She looked up at you. The water had plastered her hair to her skull, darkened it to near-black. Droplets clung to her lashes.

"Real," she said. "This feels real."

You cupped her face in your hands. Your thumbs traced the sharp line of her cheekbones, the soft skin beneath her eyes. She leaned into the touch—pressed her cheek against your palm like a cat seeking warmth.

"It is real," you said. "Whatever happens in this room, whatever you feel—it's real. The pleasure is real. The tears are real. You're not pretending anymore. You're not performing. You're just… here."

"Just here." She tested the words. "I like that. I've never been 'just here' anywhere. There's always been a camera. Or a manager. Or a husband who wanted me to be somewhere else."

"Not here."

"Not here." She rose on her toes. Her lips brushed yours—soft, tentative, a question more than a statement. "Thank you."

"You already thanked me."

"I know. I want to do it again. Properly." She kissed you again, deeper this time. Her lips parted, and her tongue traced the seam of your mouth—asking permission, not demanding it. You opened for her, and she made a small sound, something between a sigh and a hum, as her tongue met yours.

The kiss was different from the ones last night. Last night had been hungry. Desperate. A woman starving for contact and finally given permission to eat. This kiss was slower. Sweeter. A kiss of gratitude rather than need.

Her arms wrapped around your neck. Your hands found her waist. The water beat down on both of you, and the steam rose around you like a curtain, and for a long moment there was nothing in the world but this—the heat and the wet and the soft pressure of her mouth on yours.

When she finally pulled back, her lips were pinker than before. Kiss-swollen. The color had risen in her cheeks.

"I put my number in your phone," she said.

"You what?"

"While you were sleeping. Earlier. Before I…" She gestured vaguely downward, toward the general vicinity of your crotch. "I wanted to make sure you had it. In case you wanted to call. In case you wanted to…"

"To what?"

"To see me again. Not as a client. Not through the agency. Just… me." Her voice had gone smaller. The confidence from moments ago was fading, replaced by the same vulnerability you'd seen last night. "Is that allowed? Is that something you do?"

You considered the question. The agency had rules about this—Senior Park was very clear about keeping things professional, about not blurring the lines between service and relationship. But Senior Park wasn't here. And Wonyoung was looking at you with those too-big eyes, the ones that had been empty last night and were now full of something fragile and hopeful.

"It's allowed," you said. "But I should warn you—I'm not a boyfriend. I'm not going to be. Whatever this is, it's not going to become something else."

"I know." She didn't look disappointed. If anything, she looked relieved. "I don't want a boyfriend. I don't want another man who owns me. I just want… someone who sees me. Someone who touches me like I'm real. Someone who'll answer when I call." A pause. "Will you answer?"

"Every time."

She kissed you again—quick and fierce, a press of lips that was more gratitude than passion. Then she stepped back, out of the spray, and reached for a towel.

"You should go," she said. "Before I ask you to stay again."

The elevator ride down was quiet. No muzak. No mirrored walls. Just brushed steel and the soft hum of hydraulics and the memory of Wonyoung's voice: Please… call me again.

You checked your phone in the lobby. There it was, in your contacts, added sometime in the early morning hours while you were still asleep: Wonyoung ♡. The heart was a nice touch. A little cheeky. A little hopeful.

You smiled despite yourself.

Three days passed.

Senior Park called on a Friday.

"New client," he said, the same way he always did—that particular lilt in his voice that meant he was enjoying himself. "Actress. Very famous. Very married. Although her marriage is…" A pause. "Complicated."

"Complicated how?"

"You'll see. She's been asking for you specifically. Apparently your reputation is spreading."

"Who is it?"

"Moon Ga Young."

The name made you stop walking. You were on the street in Gangnam, the afternoon sun beating down on your neck, and for a moment you just stood there with the phone pressed to your ear.

"Moon Ga Young? The actress?"

"The one and only. Star of True Beauty. The Interest of Love. Half a dozen other dramas I've never watched but my wife loves." The rustle of papers on his end. "She's staying at the Signiel. Suite 2704. Tonight, eight o'clock."

"Wait." You stepped into the shade of a building, out of the flow of pedestrian traffic. "Moon Ga Young is married? I didn't know that."

"Neither did anyone else. She kept it quiet. Very quiet. No press, no announcement, no wedding photos in the tabloids." Park's voice had gone sly. "The husband is some finance executive. American. Works in New York. They've been married for two years, and in those two years, he's been in Seoul for a total of six weeks. You do the math."

Six weeks out of a hundred and four. You did the math.

"Same story," you said.

"Same story, different window. The view from the Signiel is nicer, though. She's booked the suite for the whole weekend. Says she wants to take her time." Another pause. "She also said—and I quote—'Tell him I'm not fragile. Tell him I don't need the gentle version.' End quote."

You raised an eyebrow. "She said that?"

"Word for word. I think you're in for an interesting night."

The line went dead.

The Signiel Seoul occupied the 76th through 101st floors of the Lotte World Tower. It was the kind of hotel where the lobby was on the 79th floor and the elevator ride up made your ears pop. The kind of hotel where the staff wore suits that cost more than your monthly rent and the vases in the hallways were probably worth more than your car.

Suite 2704 was at the end of a quiet corridor. The door was a slab of dark wood with a brass number, and when you knocked, the sound was swallowed by the thick carpet.

"Come in. It's open."

The voice was lower than you'd expected. Smokier. The kind of voice that belonged in a noir film, all shadows and secrets.

You pushed the door open.

The suite was magnificent. Floor-to-ceiling windows looked out over the Seoul skyline, the city lights glittering below like a spill of diamonds. The furniture was modern and understated—a low gray sofa, a glass coffee table, an abstract painting that was probably worth more than everything you owned. The bedroom was visible through an open doorway, the bed enormous and white and untouched.

And there, on the balcony, stood Moon Ga Young.

She was smaller in person than she appeared on screen. The camera had a way of adding presence, of making actors seem larger than life. In reality, she was petite—barely over five feet, with delicate wrists and a narrow frame that made her look almost breakable. Her hair was long and dark, falling past her shoulders in loose waves. Her face was the same one you'd seen in a dozen dramas—the wide eyes, the full lips, the delicate bone structure that made her look younger than her thirty-something years.

But the robe she was wearing was anything but delicate.

It was silk, pale champagne in color, and almost entirely transparent. The fabric clung to her body like a whisper, revealing the outline of her breasts, the curve of her waist, the dark triangle between her thighs. She wore nothing beneath it. The robe was held closed by a single sash, loosely tied, and as she turned to face you, the front gaped open slightly—just enough to confirm that yes, she was completely naked under there.

In one hand, she held a flute of champagne. The liquid was pale gold, the bubbles rising in lazy spirals.

"You're punctual," she said. "I like that."

"Senior Park said you didn't want the gentle version."

"Did he?" A smile played at the corner of her mouth. "I said I didn't need it. There's a difference." She raised the champagne flute to her lips and took a sip. Her eyes never left yours. "Would you like a drink? There's a bottle on the minibar. It's not cheap—I made sure of that."

"I'm working."

"So am I. Or at least, I'm about to be." The smile widened. "One drink won't hurt. Consider it part of the negotiation."

You crossed to the minibar. The champagne was vintage, the label one you recognized from a previous client's penthouse. You poured yourself a glass—not because you wanted it, but because refusing would mean ceding the rhythm of the encounter to her. And Ga Young, you were already beginning to understand, was someone who was used to setting the rhythm.

She joined you at the sofa. The robe gaped further as she sat, revealing the pale curve of one breast. She didn't bother to adjust it.

"So," she said, settling back against the cushions. "You're the man who made Karina cry."

You paused with the glass halfway to your lips. "She told you?"

"She told someone, who told someone, who told me. The idol world is small. Smaller than you'd think." Ga Young swirled her champagne. "The rumor is that you were… thorough. That you gave her exactly what she needed. That you didn't treat her like glass."

"I don't treat anyone like glass."

"No. I don't imagine you do." She leaned forward, setting her glass on the coffee table. The movement made the robe fall open completely, exposing the full length of her body. She didn't seem to notice. Or if she noticed, she didn't care. "Here's the thing. I've been married for two years. In those two years, I've had sex exactly four times. All of them on our wedding night. After that, my husband decided he preferred New York to Seoul. He calls me once a week, usually from his office, usually while he's doing something else. Reading emails. Checking stocks. He's never once asked me how I'm feeling."

"Does he know you're here?"

"He knows I'm at a hotel. He doesn't know why." Ga Young's smile was sharp. "He probably thinks I'm having a spa weekend. That's what he'd do, if he thought about it at all. 'Ga Young's having a spa weekend. How nice for her.'" The mimicry was cruel and precise. "He doesn't know me well enough to suspect anything else."

"And what are you looking for tonight?"

She leaned back. The robe fell open completely now, pooling on the cushions around her. She was leaner than Karina, leaner than Wonyoung—the body of a woman who'd spent years in front of cameras, who'd been told she needed to be thinner, always thinner. Her breasts were small, the nipples a pale pink. Her stomach was flat. The hair between her thighs was dark and neatly trimmed.

"I'm not looking for therapy," she said. "I'm not looking for someone to hold me while I cry. I'm not looking for validation or reassurance or any of the things your other clients probably need." She uncrossed her legs and crossed them again. The movement was deliberate. Performative. "I'm looking for a good fuck. That's it. That's all. I want to be fucked so hard I forget my own name. I want to walk bowlegged tomorrow. I want to feel like a woman instead of a mannequin. Can you do that?"

You set your champagne glass down next to hers. "Safeword?"

"Red."

"Tap-out?"

"Three taps. Anywhere." She cocked her head. "You're very professional. I like that too."

"Part of the service."

"Then let's get started." She stood up. The robe stayed on the sofa, a champagne-colored puddle of silk. "The bedroom's through there. I want you to use every inch of that bed. I want you to use every inch of me. And I want you to stop treating me like I'm going to break." She walked toward the bedroom, her bare feet silent on the thick carpet. At the doorway, she paused and looked back over her shoulder. "I'm not going to break. I promise."

The bedroom was all windows on one side, the city lights spread out below like a circuit board. The bed was king-sized, the sheets white, the pillows arranged in a perfect geometric pattern. Ga Young climbed onto the mattress and positioned herself in the center—on her back, her arms above her head, her legs slightly apart. The pose was deliberate. A parody of submission. The same way she'd done everything so far—with a wink, with a smirk, with the implicit understanding that she was playing a role.

"The last time I had sex," she said, "was my wedding night. He was drunk. I was nervous. It lasted maybe six minutes. He fell asleep immediately afterward, and when I woke up the next morning, he was already on a plane to New York." She looked at the ceiling. "I didn't have an orgasm. I've never had an orgasm with another person. Not once. I'm thirty-four years old, and I've been faking it since I was twenty."

You unbuttoned your shirt. "You don't have to fake anything tonight."

"I know. That's why you're here." She watched you undress with open appraisal, her eyes tracking the movement of your hands. "I've done my research. I know about the agency. I know about Senior Park. I know about the other women you've been with. The idols. The heiresses. The wives. I know you're discreet. I know you're skilled. I know you're exactly what I need."

"Which is?"

She met your eyes. The smirk was gone. For the first time since you'd walked through the door, her expression was completely serious.

"Someone who isn't afraid of me," she said. "Everyone's afraid of me. My husband's afraid of me. My managers are afraid of me. The directors I work with are afraid of me. I'm Moon Ga Young. I'm the nation's sweetheart. I'm the girl next door who's been in a dozen dramas and never had a scandal." Her voice was flat. "People think I'm delicate. They think I'm fragile. They think I need to be protected. No one's ever looked at me and thought—she wants to be destroyed."

"Do you?"

"Yes." The word was barely a whisper. "God, yes. I want to be destroyed. I want to be ruined. I want someone to look at me and see what I really am, not what the cameras see. Not what my husband sees. Not what the public sees." She swallowed. "I want to feel something real. Even if it's pain. Even if it's rough. Especially if it's rough."

You finished undressing. Your clothes made a pile on the floor—shirt, pants, boxers. Your cock was already half-hard, responding to the challenge in her voice, the directness of her gaze. Ga Young looked at you and didn't flinch.

"Good," she said. "Now come here. I've been waiting two years for this. I'm not waiting any longer."

Moon Ga Young watched you undress with the eyes of a woman who'd spent two decades being looked at and had finally decided to do some looking of her own.

"On your knees."

The command landed in the space between you. Her lips curved—not quite a smile, more a recognition. This was what she'd asked for. This was what she'd been waiting two years to receive.

She slid off the bed. The movement was liquid, all those years of dance training and red carpet practice translating into something that looked effortless. Her knees met the carpet with a soft thud. The city lights through the window painted her bare skin in shades of amber and gold.

"Hands behind your back."

She complied. The position made her small breasts lift, the nipples still pale pink and tight. Her eyes stayed on yours. Defiant. Hungry. The smirk was still there, but it had thinned—become something sharper, more expectant.

You picked up the champagne-colored robe from where it had fallen on the sofa. The silk was cool and slippery in your hands. You pulled the sash free with one sharp tug, and the fabric whispered against itself as it came loose.

"Wrists."

Ga Young's smirk flickered. "You're going to tie me up?"

"I'm going to do a lot of things." You crouched behind her, looping the silk around her wrists. Not too tight—you knew the difference between restraint and injury—but snug enough that she'd feel the pull every time she moved. "You said you wanted to be destroyed. Destruction requires surrender. You can't be in control and be ruined at the same time."

"I know." Her voice was quieter now. The bravado was still there, but something else was bleeding through. Something that sounded almost like relief. "I know. That's the point."

You tied the knot. Tested it with two fingers. "Too tight?"

"No."

"Good."

You stood and walked around to face her. From this angle, with her wrists bound behind her back and her knees pressed into the carpet, she looked smaller than before. More vulnerable. The nation's sweetheart, stripped of her armor, kneeling naked in a hotel suite with her pulse visible in her throat.

"Open your mouth."

Ga Young's lips parted. Her tongue was pink, wet, waiting. You took hold of your cock—fully hard now, thick and veined, the head already slick with the first bead of precum—and guided it toward her waiting mouth.

"Wider."

She stretched her jaw. The corners of her lips went taut. You pressed the head against her tongue, and she made a sound—something between a hum and a whimper—as the taste of you filled her mouth.

"Good girl. Now take it. All of it."

You pushed forward.

The first few inches slid in easily. Her tongue moved beneath your shaft—uncertain at first, then finding its rhythm, tracing the ridge of the head, the sensitive spot just beneath. Her cheeks hollowed as she sucked. The suction was strong, practiced, the muscle memory of a woman who'd done this before even if it had been years.

Then you pushed deeper.

The head of your cock hit the back of her throat, and Ga Young gagged. The sound was wet and sudden—a choked, spluttering cough that made her whole body convulse. Her bound wrists strained against the silk. Her eyes watered. A thick string of saliva dripped from the corner of her mouth and landed on her chest.

"Don't fight it. Relax your throat."

She tried. You could feel her trying—the way her muscles fluttered around your shaft, the way she forced herself to breathe through her nose. But the gag reflex was strong, and when you pushed another inch deeper, she convulsed again.

"Fuck—" The word came out muffled, garbled around your cock.

You pulled back. Let her gasp. A bridge of saliva connected your shaft to her bottom lip, stretching, then breaking.

"I can't—" She coughed again. "I can't take it all. It's too thick—"

"You can." You grabbed a handful of her hair and pulled her head back. Her throat was exposed now—a long, pale column, the skin delicate and unmarked. "You said you wanted to be ruined. Ruined means taking cock down your throat until you can't breathe. Ruined means gagging and choking and still pushing deeper. Do you understand?"

Ga Young's eyes met yours. They were wet now, the first tears clinging to her lashes. But behind them, something was blazing. Something that looked almost like joy.

"Yes."

"Then open your mouth."

She did. You pushed inside again, and this time you didn't stop. Your cock slid past her tongue, past the soft palate, into the tight grip of her throat. Ga Young's whole body seized. A guttural, choking sound vibrated through your shaft. Her bound hands clawed at the air behind her back. Her throat muscles clamped down around you—spasming, fighting, then slowly, gradually, yielding.

"There you go. Take it. Take all of it."

Your hips met her face. Your cock was buried to the hilt in her throat, and Ga Young's nose was pressed against your pubic bone. She couldn't breathe. Couldn't speak. Could only gag and choke and let the tears stream down her cheeks while you held her there, impaled on your length.

You held the position for a count of five. Then ten. Her face was turning red. Her body was writhing—not fighting, not trying to escape, but writhing with the sheer overwhelming sensation of being so completely filled.

You pulled back.

Ga Young gasped. The inhale was ragged and desperate, followed by a coughing fit that made her whole body shake. Saliva dripped from her chin. Her eyes were red-rimmed, her cheeks blotchy, her carefully arranged hair a tangled mess.

"More," she rasped. "Give me more."

You slapped her.

The crack of your palm against her cheek echoed through the suite. Ga Young's head snapped to the side. A red mark bloomed on her pale skin—the shape of your hand, stark and undeniable.

"Did I tell you to speak?"

She shook her head. The defiance was still there, but it was muted now—submerged beneath something deeper. Something that looked almost like peace.

"Then don't speak. Your mouth has one purpose right now. Do you understand?"

She nodded. Her cheek was still red. The tears had multiplied, tracking mascara-less lines down her face.

"Good. Now show me you understand."

She opened her mouth. Leaned forward. Took your cock between her lips with a hunger that bordered on worship. This time, when you pushed into her throat, she didn't gag. She swallowed around you—a deliberate, rhythmic clenching that traveled from her throat to the base of your shaft. The sensation was electric. Your vision swam.

"That's it. That's my good little throat-whore."

She moaned. The vibration traveled through her throat and into your cock, and the pleasure was so intense that your hips bucked involuntarily. You grabbed her head with both hands—fingers tangled in her hair, thumbs pressed against her temples—and began to fuck her face in earnest.

The rhythm was brutal. Deep, driving strokes that bottomed out against the back of her throat with every thrust. The wet sounds were obscene—squelching, choking, gagging, the slap of your balls against her chin. Ga Young's bound hands clenched and unclenched behind her back. Her body swayed with the force of your thrusts. Her eyes were squeezed shut, tears streaming freely, but she never pulled away. Never tapped out. Never gave any signal that she wanted this to stop.

"You love this. You love being used like a toy. Tell me you love it."

She couldn't speak—not with your cock buried in her throat—but she moaned again. The sound was desperate. Affirmative. Broken.

"Then take it. Take every inch. I'm going to come down your throat, and you're going to swallow every drop. Do you understand?"

Another moan. Higher-pitched. Almost frantic.

You fucked her throat faster. The tension was building—a coiling pressure at the base of your spine that spread outward, downward, gathering force with every stroke. Ga Young's throat muscles were fluttering around you now, spasming in rhythm with her muffled moans. Her body was trembling. Her bound hands had gone limp behind her back, all the fight drained out of her.

"I'm close—fuck, I'm close—"

You slammed into her throat one last time and held there. Buried to the hilt. Her nose crushed against your pelvis. Her throat working desperately around your shaft, trying to swallow, trying to breathe, trying to do everything at once.

The orgasm hit you like a freight train.

The first pulse of cum shot directly down her throat—thick, hot, copious. You felt her swallow reflexively, the muscles of her esophagus contracting around your shaft. The second pulse followed immediately, and the third, and the fourth, each one painting her throat white with your seed. You kept your grip on her head, holding her in place, making sure she couldn't pull away until every last drop was drained.

"Swallow. All of it."

She did. You felt her throat constrict again and again, gulping down your cum with an eagerness that bordered on desperation. When you finally pulled back, a thick string of saliva and semen connected your cock to her bottom lip. Ga Young's mouth hung open. Her tongue was coated white. Her eyes were glassy and unfocused, staring at something only she could see.

She swallowed once more. Licked her lips. The taste of you was still on her tongue, and she savored it—closing her eyes, letting out a small, satisfied hum.

"Thank you," she whispered.

The words were hoarse. Fucked-raw. Barely audible. But the gratitude in them was real.

"We're not done."

Ga Young's eyes opened. The smirk was back—smaller now, more fragile, but still there. "I know."

You untied her wrists. The silk sash left faint red marks on her skin—nothing that would bruise, nothing that would last, but enough to remind her tomorrow of what had happened tonight. She rubbed her wrists absently. Then she looked up at you, and the question in her eyes was clear: What now?

"Against the wall."

She rose. Her legs were unsteady—the long minutes of kneeling had left her knees red, her thighs trembling. She crossed to the floor-to-ceiling window and pressed her palms against the glass. The city lights glittered below, indifferent to the scene unfolding above them. Her reflection stared back at her—naked, disheveled, marked.

"Spread your legs."

She did. The position opened her completely—the long line of her spine, the curve of her ass, the dark cleft between her cheeks. Her cunt was visible from this angle, the lips swollen and glistening. She was wet. Had been wet since the moment you'd pushed into her throat, probably. Maybe since the moment you'd walked through the door.

You stepped behind her. Your left hand found her throat—not squeezing, not yet, just resting there, a reminder of who was in control. Your right hand slid down her back, over the curve of her ass, between her cheeks. You spread her open, exposing the tight pink knot of her asshole, the darker, wetter flesh of her cunt below.

"Look at you. Moon Ga Young. The nation's sweetheart. Bent over against a hotel window with her cunt dripping and her throat full of cum. What would your fans think?"

"I don't care." Her voice was raw, almost defiant. "I don't care what they think. I don't care what anyone thinks. Just fuck me. Please. Fuck me like you mean it."

You tightened your grip on her throat. Not enough to cut off air—just enough to make her feel the pressure. Just enough to remind her that you could.

"Beg."

"Please." The word came out strangled. "Please fuck me. I've been waiting two years. Two years of empty beds and empty phone calls and pretending I'm fine when I'm dying inside. Please. I need this. I need you. I need your cock inside me. I need to feel something real. Please—"

You thrust into her cunt in one brutal motion.

Ga Young screamed.

The sound was raw and animal—nothing like the polished, controlled voice she used in interviews. This was a scream torn from somewhere deep inside her, a scream that had been building for two years and finally found its release. Her cunt was tight—tighter than you'd expected, the walls clenching around your shaft with a force that made your breath catch. She was soaked, though, and the slick heat of her made the brutal entry possible.

"Oh fuck—oh fuck—you're so deep—"

You didn't give her time to adjust. You pulled back and slammed forward again, harder than before. The impact made her palms squeak against the glass. Her breasts pressed against the window, leaving smears of sweat on the pristine surface. Your left hand stayed on her throat, your right hand gripping her hip, and you fucked her with a rhythm that was punishing.

"This is what you wanted. This is what you begged for. To be fucked like an animal. To be used like a toy. To be ruined."

"Yes—yes—harder—"

You gave her harder. The wet sounds of her cunt filled the suite—squelching, slapping, the rhythmic thud of your hips meeting her ass. You could see her reflection in the window—her mouth open, her eyes half-closed, her cheeks flushed and tear-streaked. The idol image was gone. Completely obliterated. What was left was just a woman, raw and desperate, taking cock like she'd been starving for it.

You tightened your grip on her throat. Squeezed. Not enough to cut off her air entirely, but enough to make her lightheaded. Enough to make the edges of her vision go dark. Ga Young's eyes rolled back. Her mouth opened wider. A strangled sound escaped her—half moan, half gasp.

"That's it. Feel that? Feel how deep I am? Feel how full you are? This is what you needed. Not the fame. Not the money. Not the perfect husband who never touches you. This. Just this. Just a cock in your cunt and someone who knows how to use it."

"YES—YES—THIS IS—"

You released her throat. She gasped—a huge, ragged inhale that made her whole body shudder. Then you grabbed her hips with both hands and fucked her even harder. The pace was brutal now—piston-like, relentless, each thrust driving her against the window with a force that made the glass vibrate. Her ass rippled with every impact. Her breasts bounced. Her reflection stared back at her with wild eyes and a slack mouth, and she looked at herself like she didn't recognize what she was seeing.

"Look at yourself. Look at what you've become. You're not an actress right now. You're not a wife. You're just a wet hole. A set of holes. A body that exists to be fucked. Do you see her?"

"I see her—" Ga Young's voice was broken, sobbing. "I see her—I see myself—"

"And what do you see?"

"A whore." The word came out on a sob. "A desperate, dripping whore who's been neglected for two years and finally has a cock inside her. I see a whore. I see a whore. I see—"

You felt her cunt seize around you. The orgasm was sudden and violent—a convulsive, full-body spasm that made her back arch and her legs give out. You caught her before she collapsed, pinning her against the window with your body, and kept fucking her through it. The clenching of her walls was rhythmic, almost painful in its intensity, milking your shaft from base to tip.

"That's it—that's it—come on my cock—come while you're watching yourself—"

"I'm coming—I'm coming—oh god, I'm—"

She squirted. The fluid gushed around your cock, soaking your thighs, splashing against the window, dripping down the glass in long, obscene rivulets. Ga Young's scream was wordless, primal, a sound that seemed to come from somewhere deeper than her throat. Her body convulsed in your arms. Her cunt pulsed and fluttered around your shaft, and the sensation was so intense that you felt your own orgasm building—a tightening pressure at the base of your spine.

But you weren't done.

You pulled out of her. Ga Young whimpered at the emptiness. Her cunt gaped for a moment, then clenched around nothing, gushing another pulse of fluid onto the carpet. You turned her around—roughly, hands on her shoulders, spinning her like a doll—and pushed her back against the window. Her shoulder blades hit the glass. Her eyes were wild, unfocused, still hazy from the orgasm.

"Hold onto me."

Her arms wrapped around your neck. Her legs wrapped around your waist. You gripped her thighs and lifted her, positioning her cunt above your cock, and thrust inside her in one smooth motion.

Ga Young's head fell back against the glass. "Oh ffffuuuuck—"

"You wanted to be ruined. I'm not finished ruining you."

You fucked her against the window. The position was different—deeper, somehow, the angle letting you hit spots inside her that you hadn't reached before. Ga Young's moans were continuous now, a stream of broken syllables and guttural sounds that didn't belong to any language. Her nails dug into your shoulders. Her heels pressed into the small of your back. Her cunt was a mess—slick and swollen and pulsing, still gushing intermittently with the aftershocks of her orgasm.

"Harder—please—harder—"

You slammed into her. The window rattled. Somewhere in the back of your mind, you registered that there were probably people in the building across the street, people with binoculars, people who might be watching. Let them watch. Let them see what Moon Ga Young looked like when she was being fucked properly. Let them see the nation's sweetheart with her legs wrapped around a stranger, her cunt dripping down his thighs, her mouth open in a scream that had no end.

"Look at me."

She forced her eyes to focus. They were glassy, tear-filled, but they met yours.

"You're going to come again. You're going to come on this cock while I'm choking you. And you're going to watch yourself in the reflection while you do it. Do you understand?"

"Yes—yes—"

Your left hand found her throat again. Squeezed. Harder this time. Ga Young's face began to flush. Her lips parted. Her eyes rolled back. But she didn't tap out. Didn't signal. Didn't do anything except moan—a thin, wheezing sound that vibrated against your palm.

"That's it. Let go. Let yourself fall."

You fucked her harder. The rhythm was punishing—deep, driving strokes that bottomed out against her cervix with every thrust. Your right hand found her clit, the swollen bundle of nerves slick and hard under your fingertip. You pressed down. Circled. Ga Young's body convulsed.

Her orgasm hit like an explosion.

This one was different from the first—quieter, deeper, more devastating. Her cunt clamped down on your cock with a force that almost hurt. Her whole body went rigid, every muscle locked, every breath held. Then the release came, and it came with a flood. Her cunt gushed around your shaft—not just wetness this time, but a clear, copious fluid that sprayed against your thighs and soaked the carpet beneath you.

"Fuuuuuuuck—"

Her voice broke on the word. Her body went limp. Completely limp. She collapsed against you, her head falling onto your shoulder, her arms sliding from your neck. Her cunt was still pulsing weakly around your cock—little flutters of sensation that traveled up your shaft.

You released her throat. She gasped—a huge, ragged inhale—and then she started to laugh.

It wasn't a happy laugh. It wasn't bitter, either. It was the laugh of a woman who'd been holding something inside for years and had finally, finally let it out. The laugh turned into sobs, and the sobs turned into silence, and through all of it you held her against the window, your cock still buried inside her, your hands gentle on her back.

"Thank you," she whispered again. "Thank you. Thank you. Thank you."

She kept saying it. Over and over. Like a prayer. Like a confession. Like the only words she had left.

You carried her to the bed. Laid her down on the white sheets. Her body was marked—red impressions of your fingers on her throat, faint bruises already forming on her hips, her cunt swollen and gaping and still leaking onto the mattress. She looked up at you with eyes that were clearer than they'd been all night.

"Stay," she said. "Please. Just until I fall asleep."

You climbed into the bed beside her. Pulled the sheets over both of you. Ga Young curled against your chest, her face pressed into the hollow of your throat, her breath warm on your skin.

"I haven't felt this alive in years," she murmured. "I haven't felt anything in years."

"Feel it now."

She did. Her breathing slowed. Her body relaxed. The tension that had been coiled in her muscles since the moment you'd walked through the door finally, fully released.

Outside the window, the city glittered on, indifferent and eternal. Inside the suite, Moon Ga Young closed her eyes, and for the first time in two years, she slept without dreaming of being somewhere else.

The morning light through the Signiel's floor-to-ceiling windows was the color of honey. It pooled on the white sheets, caught the edge of the champagne flute still sitting on the coffee table, painted Ga Young's bare shoulder in shades of gold.

She was still asleep.

Her breathing was slow and even, her face half-buried in the pillow, her dark hair fanned across the cotton like spilled ink. The marks from last night were already fading—the faint impressions on her throat, the bruises on her hips. In sleep, she looked younger. Softer. The sharp, sardonic edge that had defined her when you'd walked through the door had melted away, replaced by something unguarded.

You slid out of bed carefully. The sheets whispered against your skin. Ga Young stirred but didn't wake—just shifted, her hand reaching out to the empty space where you'd been, her fingers curling around nothing.

You dressed in silence. Shirt. Pants. Belt. The routine was automatic, muscle memory from a dozen similar mornings. The suite was quiet except for the distant hum of the HVAC system and the soft shush of traffic eighty floors below. Your shoes were by the sofa where you'd kicked them off. You bent to pick them up.

"Where are you going?"

The voice was sleep-roughened but still unmistakably hers—that smoky, noir-film cadence that made everything sound like a secret. You turned.

Ga Young was sitting up in bed. The sheet had fallen to her waist. Her hair was a tangled mess, her eyes still puffy from sleep and last night's tears. She looked nothing like the polished actress from the dramas. She looked like a woman who'd been thoroughly fucked and had slept better than she had in years.

"Home," you said. "You were asleep. I didn't want to wake you."

She laughed. The sound was low and warm and entirely unselfconscious. "Nuh uh." She swung her legs over the side of the bed and stood, crossing the room toward you with the sheet still trailing behind her like a train. "I'm still your client. The weekend, remember? You're not going anywhere."

She reached you and wrapped her arms around your waist from behind. Her cheek pressed against your spine. Her bare breasts flattened against your back, and the warmth of her body seeped through your shirt. She smelled like sex and sleep and the faint floral remnants of whatever expensive soap the Signiel stocked in its bathrooms.

"Ga Young—"

"Shh." Her arms tightened. "You're not leaving. Not yet. Not until I say so."

The suite door clicked open.

You heard it before you saw it—the soft sound of the electronic lock disengaging, followed by the whoosh of the door swinging on its hinges. Two voices drifted in from the hallway, mid-laugh, the kind of easy, familiar laughter that came from years of friendship.

"—and then he said, 'That's not a prop, that's my actual—'" The voice cut off.

Karina stood in the doorway.

Wonyoung was right behind her.

They were both carrying shopping bags—the discreet, expensive kind that came from boutiques in Cheongdam-dong, the logos embossed in subtle gold foil. They were both wearing black outerwear—Karina in a long trench coat, Wonyoung in a cropped leather jacket—and they were both staring at you with expressions that shifted from surprise to recognition to something else entirely.

Something hungrier.

"Unnie!" Ga Young's voice was delighted. She released you and stepped around, completely unbothered by her nudity, the sheet slipping from her shoulders and pooling on the floor. "You're early. I thought you weren't coming until noon."

Karina's eyes flicked from you to Ga Young and back again. A slow smile spread across her face. "We wanted to surprise you." She stepped into the suite, and Wonyoung followed, closing the door behind her. "But it looks like you're the one with the surprise."

"Wait." You looked at Ga Young. Then at Karina. Then at Wonyoung. "You three know each other?"

"We're best friends." Wonyoung's voice was light, almost teasing. She set her shopping bag down on the console table by the door. "We've been best friends for years. Since trainee days. Did you really think it was a coincidence that we all ended up calling the same agency?"

"We talk," Karina said. She was still smiling, but there was something sharper beneath it—a blade hidden in silk. "We talk about everything. The husbands. The loneliness. The emptiness." She paused. "The men we hire to make us feel alive again."

Ga Young had retrieved her robe from the floor—the champagne-colored silk, still wrinkled from last night—and was tying it loosely around her waist. "When I heard that Karina unnie had found someone who actually made her come, I had to see for myself. And then Wonyoungie called me the next morning, practically glowing, and I knew." She turned to you, her eyes bright. "I knew I had to book you. And I knew I had to make it a weekend."

"A weekend?"

"Senior Park didn't tell you?" Karina's trench coat was already unbelted. She shrugged it off her shoulders, and it slid to the floor in a whisper of black fabric. Beneath it, she was wearing lingerie—not the practical black lace from your first encounter, but something deliberately chosen. A deep burgundy set, the color of aged wine, the bra cupping her breasts in a way that made them look fuller, the panties high-cut and sheer. "This booking is for all three of us. The whole weekend. Friday to Sunday."

Wonyoung was unzipping her leather jacket. Her movements were slower than Karina's, more deliberate, but no less confident. The jacket came off, and beneath it was a pale lavender set—the color soft against her skin, the fabric delicate, almost bridal. The contrast between the innocent lingerie and the knowing look in her eyes was intentional. You could see it in the way she tilted her head, the way she watched you watching her.

"Three clients," she said. "Three women who need to be reminded what it feels like to be touched." She stepped closer. "Three women who've been talking about you for weeks."

On the coffee table, you noticed for the first time a folded piece of paper. It was propped against the champagne bottle, your name written on the front in Senior Park's precise, old-fashioned handwriting. You crossed to it and picked it up.

Your client for this weekend is the three of them. They've been planning this for a month. Don't disappoint them. — SP

You swallowed.

The sound was audible in the quiet suite. Ga Young heard it and laughed—that same low, warm laugh from before. "Nervous? The man who made me come twice against a window is nervous?"

"Not nervous." You folded the note and tucked it into your pocket. "Just… recalibrating."

"Recalibrate faster." Karina had crossed the room to stand beside Ga Young. The two of them together were a study in contrasts—Karina's burgundy against Ga Young's champagne, the idol's sharp, aggressive beauty against the actress's delicate, knowing allure. "We've been waiting a long time for this. All three of us. We've been planning it ever since Wonyoungie called me the morning after your session."

"I didn't just call her." Wonyoung had moved to your other side, bracketing you between the three of them. Her lavender lingerie made her skin look luminous, the pale tea-colored nipples visible through the sheer fabric. "I told her everything. Everything you did. Everything you said. Every way you made me feel." Her voice dropped, became something softer, more intimate. "And she told me what you did with her. And then Ga Young unnie said she wanted to find out for herself, and we decided—why not all three of us? Why not a weekend?"

"Because none of us has ever had this." Ga Young's hand found your shoulder. Her fingers traced the line of your collarbone through your shirt. "None of us has ever had a man who knew what he was doing. Who cared about making us feel good. Who looked at us like we were women instead of objects." She paused. "We wanted to share you. Just for a weekend. Just to remember what it feels like."

"To be alive," Karina said.

"To be wanted," Wonyoung added.

"To be fucked properly," Ga Young finished.

The three of them were close now. Close enough that you could smell them—Karina's perfume, something floral and expensive; Wonyoung's shampoo, jasmine and vanilla; Ga Young's skin, still warm from sleep, still carrying the faint musk of last night's sex. They were looking at you with the same expression. The same hunger. The same desperate, aching need that you'd seen in each of them individually but never all at once.

"Take off your shirt," Karina said.

The command was soft but firm. The same voice she'd used when she'd first welcomed you to her mansion, but stripped of the nervousness now. This was a woman who'd spent three weeks waiting for this moment. This was a woman who knew exactly what she wanted.

You unbuttoned your shirt. Slowly. Deliberately. The three of them watched every movement—the slide of each button through its hole, the parting of the fabric, the reveal of your chest. When you shrugged the shirt off your shoulders, Wonyoung made a small sound—a quiet, involuntary hum of appreciation.

"His body is different in the daylight," she murmured. "I couldn't see it properly last time. It was dark. I was…" She swallowed. "I was distracted."

"You were crying," Ga Young said. Not unkindly. Just matter-of-fact. "You told me you cried."

"I did. I cried a lot." Wonyoung's eyes met yours. "But I also came. Twice. The first real orgasms of my life."

"Mine too." Karina's voice was quieter now. "The first real ones. The only real ones."

Ga Young's hand slid from your shoulder to your chest. Her palm was warm against your skin. "And I came twice last night. The first time I've ever come with a partner. The first time I've ever come without faking it." Her fingers traced the line of your pectoral, down to your abdomen. "So you see, we have a lot to thank you for. And a lot more we want to experience."

"Together," Karina said.

"Together," Wonyoung echoed.

The word hung in the air between you. Together. Three women who'd spent years being neglected, being ignored, being treated like accessories to their husbands' careers. Three women who'd found each other in the loneliness and decided to do something about it. Three women who were looking at you now with the same expression—expectant, hungry, alive.

"Are you going to be able to handle all three of us?" Ga Young's voice was teasing, but there was a genuine question beneath the playfulness. "We're not going to be gentle with you. We've been planning this for a month. We have… ideas."

"Three days," Karina said. "Three women. One man." She stepped closer, close enough that her breasts—still encased in that burgundy lace—brushed against your arm. "Think you can keep up?"

"Senior Park seemed to think so." You looked at the note still folded in your pocket. "He wouldn't have booked me if he didn't."

"Senior Park is a smart man." Wonyoung had moved behind you. Her hands found your shoulders, her fingers pressing into the muscle, kneading gently. "He told us you were the best. He told us you could handle anything. He told us you wouldn't break."

"I won't break."

"Good." Ga Young's hand was still on your chest, her thumb tracing idle circles over your sternum. "Because we're not going to break you. We're going to use you. All three of us. However we want. Whenever we want. For the whole weekend." She looked up at you, and her eyes were dark and serious despite the smile playing at the corner of her lips. "Is that understood?"

"Understood."

"Good boy." She patted your chest and stepped back. "Then let's get started. The bedroom's big enough for all four of us. I checked."

She turned and walked toward the bedroom, the champagne robe trailing behind her like a whisper. Karina followed, her hips swaying with that dancer's grace she'd never lost despite years away from the stage. Wonyoung released your shoulders and moved around you, her lavender lingerie pale against the gray walls of the suite, and when she reached the bedroom doorway, she looked back over her shoulder.

"Are you coming?"

The question was simple. The answer was simpler.

You followed them into the bedroom.

The bed was still rumpled from the night before—the sheets twisted, the pillows scattered, the faint impressions of Ga Young's body still visible on the mattress. The morning light was stronger here, flooding through the windows, making everything look clean and bright and new. The three women arranged themselves on the bed with the ease of long practice—Ga Young in the center, propped against the headboard; Karina on her left, sitting cross-legged with her burgundy lingerie stark against the white sheets; Wonyoung on her right, her long legs stretched out in front of her, her lavender set a soft contrast to the sharper colors around her.

They looked at you. Waiting.

"Clothes off," Ga Young said. "All of them. We want to see what we're working with."

You unbuckled your belt. The sound was loud in the quiet room. Three pairs of eyes tracked the movement of your hands—the slide of leather through the buckle, the pop of the button, the hiss of the zipper. Your pants fell to the floor. Your boxers followed.

Your cock was already half-hard. Responding to the attention, the anticipation, the sheer overwhelming presence of three beautiful women watching you undress. Ga Young's eyes flicked down, then up again. The corner of her mouth twitched.

"He's bigger than I remembered," Karina murmured.

"He's thicker than I remembered," Wonyoung added.

"And he knows how to use it." Ga Young's voice was satisfied. "He used it in my throat last night. And in my cunt. And against the window." She gestured at the glass, still faintly smeared from where her body had pressed against it. "I left a mark."

"So did I." Wonyoung's voice was soft, almost wistful. "At my penthouse. On the sheets. I haven't washed them yet. I keep thinking I should, but I can't bring myself to do it."

"I know what you mean." Karina's eyes met yours. "I still have the sheets from my first time with him. They're in the back of my closet. Joon-ho never goes in there. He never goes anywhere in that house except his study and his bedroom." She paused. "He has his own bedroom. We've always had separate bedrooms. He said it was better for his sleep."

"Seok-joong has his own apartment." Wonyoung's voice was flat. "He lives there with his current girlfriend. A trainee. She's nineteen."

"My husband has his own continent." Ga Young's laugh was bitter. "He's been to Seoul for six weeks in two years. Six weeks. He's probably slept with half of Manhattan in that time."

The three of them were quiet for a moment. The morning light poured through the windows, and the city glittered below, and the three women on the bed were looking at each other with an expression that was part grief and part fury and part something else—something that looked almost like hope.

Then Ga Young shook her head. "No. No more talking about husbands. That's not what this weekend is for." She looked at you, and the fire was back in her eyes. "This weekend is for us. For pleasure. For release. For everything we've been denied." She patted the mattress beside her. "Come here. It's time to earn your paycheck."

You climbed onto the bed.

The mattress dipped beneath your weight. The three women shifted to accommodate you—Ga Young making room in the center, Karina and Wonyoung flanking her on either side. You ended up face-to-face with Ga Young, close enough to see the faint lines around her eyes, the small scar on her chin from some childhood accident, the way her pupils were already dilating with anticipation.

"Kiss me," she said. "Kiss me, and then kiss them. We've been waiting. We've all been waiting."

You kissed her.

It was different from last night's kisses. Last night had been about dominance—the rough press of lips, the battle for control, the assertion of power. This kiss was slower. More deliberate. A kiss of greeting rather than conquest. Ga Young's lips parted beneath yours, and her tongue met yours with a soft, exploratory touch. She tasted like sleep and champagne and something indefinably her.

When you pulled back, she was smiling. "Now Karina."

You turned. Karina was watching you with dark eyes, her burgundy lingerie stretched tight across her breasts, her breathing already uneven. She didn't wait for you to lean in. She closed the distance herself, her hands coming up to frame your face, her kiss hungry and urgent and full of three weeks of waiting.

"It's been too long," she whispered against your mouth. "Three weeks. Three weeks of thinking about you. Three weeks of touching myself and pretending it was your hands."

"And now?"

"Now I don't have to pretend." She kissed you again—quick and fierce—then pulled back. "Wonyoung's turn."

Wonyoung was the shyest of the three. She'd been hesitant last night, tentative in the penthouse, uncertain about what she was allowed to do. But now she leaned in with more confidence, her lips brushing yours with a gentleness that was almost teasing. Her hand found your chest, her palm flat against your sternum, feeling your heartbeat.

"I've been thinking about you too," she murmured. "Every night. Every morning. I've been thinking about what you did to me. What you made me feel." She kissed you again—longer this time, deeper. "I want to feel it again. All of it. Everything."

"You will."

"Promise?"

"Promise."

She smiled. The expression transformed her face—made her look younger, lighter, more like the idol she'd been before the marriage and the neglect and the loneliness. "Good. Then let's get started. Ga Young unnie's been waiting the longest. She should get the first turn."

"Agreed." Karina was already shifting on the bed, repositioning herself to give Ga Young more room. "We've got three days. We can take our time."

"Little slut, you feel so good just by inserting it casually. You are going to heaven soon." The director said with a lewd smile and began to thrust slowly and steadily. Each time, he deliberately thrust into Nayeon's pussy, making her feel more and more excited. It was so numb that half of her soul flew away.

"It feels so good... ah... ah... it feels so good... ah... oppa is good at fucking... ah... it feels so good to fuck Nayeon... ah... ah... Nayeon is almost fucked to death by... oppa ..." Nayeon let out a sweet moan while being fucked, screaming, she was so happy that she couldn't help herself.

"Fuck! I've noticed a long time ago that you Twice are all sluts. You look like you need someone to fuck you! Let me fuck you to death today, you stinky bitch." After hearing Nayeon's lewd screams, the director suddenly buckled down hard. Holding Nayeon's waist, he thrust hard and fast, moving like an electric motor, and the long and thick penis pressed hard against her womb, making Nayeon roll her eyes in pleasure and utter nonsense. She was talking gibberish, her lower body was dripping with water, and she was about to be fucked to death as she said.

"Ah, ah ah~~~~ I can't do it anymore... It feels so good... I'm going to go... Haaaaa I am cumming ah~~~~ "

“Fuck you to death! I'll fuck you to death!" The director grinned and didn’t reduce the pace of fucking Nayeon's pussy. He kept the same force and thrust harder, repeatedly thrusting his cock in and out from Nayeon’s pussy and out bringing higher frequency slapping sounds from his crotch and Nayeon's reddish buttocks.

"Ah... ah... it's reaching... it's reaching the womb... oh... um... it's going to go through... I’m going to break ... ugh..." The director's sexual desire and energy were unexpectedly strong.

His cock kept pushing in and out of Nayeon's pussy, constantly bringing out the transparent juice from Nayeon's pink pussy.

Waves of electric shock-like pleasure swept over her, making Nayeon curl up with her toes, her lower limbs twitching, and her pussy clamping on its own, like a greedy little mouth sucking the cock that was rushing inside her body. Nayeon's body kept producing nectar, and her legs were wet. She was worse than the most despicable prostitute. Every time the director thrust, there would be a lustful damp sound. In addition, Nayeon's pair of beautiful breasts were constantly played with by the director. The director is indeed a veteran of sex, when he plays with Nayeon's breasts with both hands, the force and focus are different, sometimes light and sometimes heavy. Sometimes the sensitive right nipple is rubbed by rough thumbs, and sometimes the left nipple is gently pinched and pulled. , the pleasure makes Nayeon couldn't help but raise her head and enjoy his erotic play with her body.

Under the director's crazy thrusting, Nayeon made soft and ecstatic sounds from time to time and pitifully moaned, her white and delicate body trembled and twisted. The man fucked her fiercely, "Puff, Puff", squeezing the pink lips into the vagina every time he inserted it, and then turning the lips out when pulling out. The juice around the vagina had been dried into a thick white mucus.

"You know how to moan, and you know how to suck, fuck! It feels so good! Little bitch! Moan louder... you really know how to shake your waist... shake it hard... oh... oh... it feels so good... fuck you... You need someone to fuck you huh...it's so tight...fuck you to death...fuck you to death..." The director suddenly accelerated his thrusting speed, pressed his whole body on Nayeon’s body, stuck out his tongue, and kept licking her face like a pervert.

"Ah~~~~~~~~~~I can't do it, Oppa~~~~~I can't do it. I can't do it~~~~~~~~I'm cumming. I'm cumming out." Nayeon's delicate body trembled, trying to grab something with both hands as if trying to move forward to escape the impact of the cock.

Seeing Nayeon's avoidance, the director immediately wrapped his hands tightly around Nayeon's slender waist, his face flushed red during the climax. He continued to bombard her already muddy vagina like heavy artillery.

"Ahh...ahhhhhh...I am going...crazy...ahhhhh...uhhhhh...let Nayeon go...Ahh." Nayeon's moans sounded like crying. The sound of flesh hitting together alternately with the sound of flesh hitting the ground.

"Ah ah... ah... oppa, I... feel so comfortable... so comfortable... ah ah... harder... fuck me... fuck me..." Nayeon's alluring body was pressed down to the tree by the director. She was pressed under his body, and her face showed a thrilling and charming look. The director was sweating profusely, shaking out a huge amount of hot sweat in the pumping. His breathing gradually became faster, and the movements of his lower body gradually accelerated, and he no longer deliberately controlled the intensity of the impact.

"O... Oppa, I... I really can't do it anymore... oh... oppa... oppa, please spare me... oh... oh... I have to wear it! I have to wear it... ah... oh... Oh... I'm going to die... Wu... Um... oppa... I'm going to die... I'm going to die... Ah... Ah... Uh-huh... I'm cumming... I'm cumming again... Oh... nearly cumming... uh uh..." The director continued to fuck her wet and soft pussy, which was so sore that Nayeon couldn’t bear it anymore and began to breathe unevenly. When Nayeon was about to climax, the director pulled out his cock and stopped inserting it. He only rubbed it slowly in a circular motion at Nayeon's clit.

Nayeon suddenly felt that her pussy had lost the sense of satisfaction, and she hurriedly shouted: "Eh... Huh? No... no... um... what..." Nayeon realized that the words she was about to say would be extremely lewd, so she only said a few words to protest.

"Huh? Little Nayeon, You don't want what? So you don't want me to continue to fuck you? Then forget it ..." The director tried to pull his cock out of Nayeon's pussy, but Nayeon almost reached orgasm, she couldn't bear it anymore. She couldn't care how lustful her words would be: "Ah...oppa...don't pull out...don't pull out...hurry up...fuck me...I can't stand it anymore..."

"Hahaha, little slut, I really don’t know how JYP has taught you such a slutty female idol! What do you want, where do you want it to be inserted? You need to be clear! Otherwise, I wouldn’t know.”

At this time, Nayeon could no longer care about shame, and she shouted loudly: “O...oppa, I want your... your big cock...insert...into Na… Nayeon’s little cunt... ah...". After hearing Nayeon's begging for mercy, the director thrust his cock in again, causing Nayeon to start moaning again: "Ah...ah...ah...um...ah...ah...oh... So...so full...um...".

A few minutes later, the director held Nayeon's body and sprinted for a while. The glans had swelled to the limit. With a squeak, he quickly pulled out of Nayeon's tender pussy, pulled her body over to face him, and groan in a hoarse voice: "Open up your mouth" Nayeon opened her small cherry mouth blankly, but the director immediately filled it.

"Ugh! Ugh!" Every time the director's cock pulsed in Nayeon's soft mouth, a stream of semen would spurt out. The thick and long cock penetrated straight into the throat, and the semen spurted out was poured directly into Nayeon's esophagus. But even like this, Nayeon's narrow mouth couldn't swallow all the cum, and it kept leaking from the corners of her mouth.

"Humph!" Nayeon groaned as she collapsed on the ground, and two streams of milky white semen slowly flowed down from her small nose, smelling like snot.

"Ahem, cough, cough." Nayeon's body twisted uneasily, but her little head was held down by the director obsessively. The cock was still pulsing, and the glans were still spitting out the essence of life.

"Huh~~" The director let out a sigh of relief, lowered his head and pulled out the penis that was gradually softening, only to find that Nayeon had lost consciousness. Semen kept spitting out from the corner of her mouth, and two lines of milky white were gushing out from both nostrils. It felt like the whole head was filled, and the mouth above and below were spitting out liquid at the same time.

After a short rest, Nayeon first swallowed the semen in her mouth, then stretched out her fingers to dip the slippery semen flowing out of her cheeks and nose into her delicate lips and stretched out her pink little tongue. Licking it clean, she kept reaching out to collect the puddles of semen toward her lips. When she flicked her pink tongue, the semen disappeared from Nayeon's mouth, leaving only a thin layer. The layer covered Nayeon’s chin and cheeks.

"Ah... Chaeyoung, you performed great today~ But because you lost, you have to stay!" Tzuyu winked at Chaeyoung mischievously.

"Yes, yes...I know." Chaeyoung lowered her head, with a bit of embarrassment on her face.

The other members of TWICE looked at each other and smiled, then left the set and went home to rest. Chaeyoung was left alone in the empty waiting room.

Chaeyoung took out her phone and checked the time - her boyfriend would be arriving to pick her up for dinner in half an hour. But now she must fulfill the punishment task of being the loser, becoming the staff's toilet, using her body to thank the staff for their hard work.

Chaeyoung took a deep breath, stood up slowly, and put on a pair of black stockings to make her legs look longer.

"Dong, dong, dong -" there was a knock on the door, and it was the staff who came in.

Chaeyoung immediately knelt down on the ground obediently, raised her head, and said with a smile: " Hello staff, I am Chaeyoung, today's cumdump. Which part of me do you want to use?"

The head of the staff looked at Chaeyoung and said with a smile: " Chaeyoung is dressed very beautifully today, but since you are our slut, please take off your clothes. "

Chaeyoung nodded slightly. In an instant, Chaeyoung was naked in front of everyone, wearing nothing but black stockings.

"Wow, this black stocking suits you so well!" The staff members exclaimed and gathered around, caressing Chaeyoung's beautiful legs in black stockings, and gently pressing her delicate private parts from time to time.

" Well ... thank you for your compliments ... I… I will do my best to meet your needs ... Please feel free to enjoy my body ..." Chaeyoung said softly with a blushing face, holding herself in her hands Breasts, letting the staff's fingers roam around her body.

At this moment, Chaeyoung's cell phone suddenly vibrated, and the caller ID was her boyfriend.

"Eh-" Chaeyoung screamed, quickly turned off the vibrate mode, and then held her phone tightly. She is currently serving the staff. If her boyfriend knows that she has done such a shameful thing on the set of a variety show, he will definitely be angry!

"What's wrong, Chaeyoung? What's the matter?" The staff noticed Chaeyoung's reaction and asked with concern.

Chaeyoung shook her head and said: " No, it's okay ... someone just called me ... I-I won't let other things affect your enjoyment ... Please continue to enjoy my body ..."

After Chaeyoung finished speaking, she relaxed and returned to her role as a slut. One of the staff members took off his pants and pointed his erect penis directly at Chaeyoung. Chaeyoung crawled over knowingly, took the thick penis in her mouth, and began to swallow it up and down. At the same time, another staff member kneaded the two breast peaks on Chaeyoung's chest, making them change into various shapes.

"Ah... it feels so comfortable... Chaeyoung's little mouth is so good... it makes me almost cum..."

Chaeyoung's mouth was full and she couldn't answer at all. She just sucked the cock in her mouth harder, her tongue lingering between the sensitive crown and glans. At the same time, she did not forget to twist her waist and rub the genitals of another staff member with her labia.

"Chaeyoung, you're wet down there...can't you wait to be fucked?"

Chaeyoung heard the movements behind her and hurriedly increased the speed of her little hands, hoping to help the man in front of her reach climax, and then let the man behind her love her. Unfortunately, she miscalculated. As the man in front of her roared, streams of hot liquid poured directly into her throat, forcing her to slow down to avoid suffocation.

" Ahem...oooo..." Chaeyoung finally swallowed the white semen in her mouth. Before she could take a breath, the cock from behind was inserted into her heart mercilessly.

"Ah——!!" Chaeyoung raised her head and screamed, the nectar couldn't stop flowing out, wetting the black silk on her inner thighs. When the man in front of her saw this, his penis that had just softened after ejaculation became hard again. He held Chaeyoung's hair and forced her to take his penis into her mouth again.

At this time, another men took off his pants, rubbed his erect penis against her anus.

"Uh...wu...don't, it can't work there..." Chaeyoung let out a broken plea, but in exchange for the man behind her, he thrust more fiercely, and every impact pushed the cock deeper into her mouth.

The two men looked at each other and at the same time forcefully inserted their genitals into Chaeyoung's two holes and started crazy piston movements.

All three holes in Chaeyoung's body were filled, and the huge pleasure almost pushed her to the edge of collapse. She could only barely stay awake, licking the cock in her mouth and back one after another, and holding two penises in her hand to move up and down.

"Ah... Chaeyoung's mouth and ass are so comfortable... We are going to cum inside you..."

"I can't help it anymore...get ready to catch my cum!"

Chaeyoung heard the man's warning and tried hard to avoid it, but the man in front held her head down, and the man behind pushed her in hard, completely blocking her escape route. So, in the next second, three streams of hot liquid spurted out at the same time, filling Chaeyoung's mouth, vagina and ass.

"Gulu...Gulu..." Chaeyoung weakly swallowed the smelly white cum in her mouth, but a large amount still overflowed from her mouth and flowed to her chin and neck. The semen of the latter two people was poured directly into her body, and her belly quickly swelled.

"Chaeyoung's belly has grown a lot, no wonder it leaks~" the men onlookers joked, some took out their cocks and masturbated, while others couldn't wait to join the gangbang.

"Chaeyoung, have you rested? We still have many staffs who want to fuck you~"

"Yes... I have rested... Please continue to enjoy my body..." Chaeyoung lay on the ground, raising her butt high, as if she was ready for them to take advantage of.

Upon seeing this, the staff immediately swarmed over. Some held Chaeyoung's waist and penetrated her body again, while others penetrated her ass. Some stood in front and let her lick their genitals. Some people grabbed her hands and used them up and down ...

Chaeyoung was completely occupied, every available hole was filled to the brim. Her whole body was shaking like convulsions, but she was still trying her best to please everyone who penetrated her.

"Ah... Chaeyoung's pussy is so tight and hot... I'm going to cum..."

"Chaeyoung, it feels so good...I want to cum in your mouth too..."

"Me too...I want to cum in Chaeyoung's ass...fill her up..."

The staff's urgings came one after another, and soon several more people ejaculated into Chaeyoung's body. Her belly became more and more distended, as if she were pregnant. But this is far from over. A new man takes over the old position and continues to violate every inch of Chaeyoung's skin.

" Oh ... so many ... too many ... I really can't bear it ..." Chaeyoung cried and begged for mercy, but the staff did not let her go, but punished her harder for lying.

"You little bitch, you obviously like to be gang-banged, don't you? Look at the water from your pussy flowing everywhere!" The man mocked, and then he thrust hard again.

"Ahhhh——!!"

Chaeyoung screamed and reached her climax, but what followed was an even more violent attack. The staff seemed to be stimulated and attacked more fiercely than before.

"It seems that our little tiger is being fucked very well~ Then let us cum a little more and fill your belly with our seeds!"

"Yes, you are so beautiful, and your figure is so sexy, we just can't help but want to take possession of you!"

The staff used all kinds of insulting words and behaviors towards Chaeyoung curiously. They not only wanted to conquer her physically, but also completely destroyed her mentally.

"Don't...don't cum anymore...I really can't bear it..." Chaeyoung begged, but she was only greeted with more violations and humiliation.

" Can't stand it? I think you are dissatisfied with your desires! Look, the water below you keep flowing, just like a bitch! " After saying that, the man behind her slapped Chaeyoung hard, on her snow-white buttocks, leaving red palm prints on it.

"Woof woof..." Chaeyoung was so slapped that she lost all her senses and subconsciously started barking like a dog. The man behind her excitedly increased his strength and fucked her like a real bitch.

Seeing this, other staff members followed suit. They kneaded Chaeyoung's breasts and nipples, turning her into a real "cow"; others grabbed her ankles, folded her into a V shape, and inserted her from above. Her vagina makes her look more like a pussy than a human being.

"Ahh... woof woof..."

Under this extreme humiliation and torture, Chaeyoung's consciousness gradually blurred, but the flow of juice under her body never stopped. She could no longer tell whether it was physical pleasure or psychological humiliation that was dominant. She only knew that she was unknowingly indulged in this group sex feast.

"It seems that our Miss Chaeyoung has accepted her identity~" the men teased, speeding up their thrusts.

" Woof woof ... woof woof ... Master ... please enjoy my body ... I am your exclusive doggy ..." Chaeyoung murmured, looking at one stick after another with blurred eyes. A penis moving in and out of one's own mouth.

Her voice had become hoarse and broken, but the resignation and desire in her tone became more and more obvious. The staff were greatly encouraged after hearing this, and the intensity of the attack became a little stronger.

"Miss Chaeyoung is such a naughty bitch, we must make you pregnant with our seed!"

"That's right, let's burst Chaeyoung's belly completely so that she will always remember this day!"

After Chaeyoung heard this, instead of feeling scared, she became excited. She began to suck the cock in her mouth harder, and her hands worked harder on the other ones, for fear that someone would reach climax before someone ejaculated inside her.

For a moment, the room was filled with the moans and heavy breathing of men and Chaeyoung, and the lewd scene was like hell. However, for Chaeyoung at this moment, this is paradise in her heart.

At this moment, Chaeyoung suddenly felt the person behind her speed up, and then a stream of heat shot into her body. Then the second and third one reached climax one after another, spreading their own seeds into Chaeyoung's body.

" Ah ... it's so deep ..." Chaeyoung closed her eyes and enjoyed the aftermath of her orgasm. She couldn't even tell who the semen belonged to.

"Okay, it's time to change." The man in front pulled out his penis, and the other man immediately took his place. The man who had ejaculated behind Chaeyoung just now stepped aside and played with Chaeyoung's breasts and private parts with the others.

Chaeyoung felt that her vagina and anus were filled with different cocks again, but by this time she was already used to this extreme feeling of fullness. She took the initiative to raise her breasts to meet the man's touch, and her slender legs were wrapped around the waist of the man who was fucking her, squirming like a snake.

"Good child, we will take good care of you." The staff gently stroked Chaeyoung's hair, as if comforting a well-behaved pet.

" Woof woof ... thank you, master ..." Chaeyoung showed a grateful expression, with only the desire for cock in her eyes. She was completely immersed in this crazy gang rape feast and forgot about the date with her boyfriend and even herself. She now has only one identity - the exclusive doggy sex slave of the production staffs.

Chaeyoung's moans kept echoing in the studio. Her body was covered with large and small hickeys and fingerprints. Her nipples stood high, and her labia were opened by being fucked, revealing a muddy inside. However, there was no pain in her expression, only extreme comfort and satisfaction.

" Ah ... Masters ... Chaeyoung wants more ..." Chaeyoung moaned, actively twisting her buttocks to match the man's thrusts. Her belly was already swollen and filled with semen from different men. But this was far from enough to satisfy her thirst for sex.

"Our little bitch has a big appetite~" the man teased, increasing the force, hitting Chaeyoung's womb with every blow.

" Woof woof ... yes ... Chaeyoung wants more ... Masters, please give it to me ..." Chaeyoung said incoherently, her mind already overwhelmed by sexual desire.

In this way, Chaeyoung kept climaxing under the men's repeated fuck. Under Chaeyoung's tireless demands, every staff member on the set cummed at least two or three times. Until the last stick of incense burned out, the staff on the set were so tired that they lay on the ground panting, unable to erect anymore.

"Please ... I still want..." Although Chaeyoung's whole body was sore from being fucked, her sexual desire has not diminished at all, and she is still looking for a cock that can still erect. She crawled in front of each man and worked hard to peel off their loose foreskin with her hands or mouth, trying to find one or two fairly hard cocks to continue serving.

"Masters...give me a little more..." Chaeyoung crawled towards the nearest man, trying to swallow his weak lower body. But no matter how hard she tried, the man couldn't get any harder.

It's a pity that these staff members have been completely drained by Chaeyoung. No matter how she teases them, their cocks can only barely lift their heads and soon become soft again.

"Woof woof...please, masters...give me a little more...I still want..." Chaeyoung raised her butt and spun around in front of the men, but she only received a burst of ridicule.

"What should I do... it won't work anymore... I haven't been fed yet..." Chaeyoung muttered aggrievedly, looking at the male staff who were still young and fit, and holding the men's genitals up and down with her small hands, trying to inject some life into them.

" I can't do it anymore ... You can find someone else ..." One of them said helplessly. It seemed that he could no longer meet Chaeyoung's needs.

Chaeyoung kept twisting her body, serving each cock with her mouth and hands, trying to tease them to get hard again. However, no matter how hard she tried, those limp cock could not be brought back to life.

" Chaeyoung, we are really tired. Can we play with you next time? " Another person also said.

Facing everyone's rejection, Chaeyoung seemed a little disappointed. But she didn't stop there. Instead, she crawled up to the male staff who were not yet involved and looked at them expectantly.

"Then...can you...?" she asked carefully.

"Sorry, I can't do it either." The man sighed, "We really can't keep up with your pace."

Just like that, Chaeyoung glanced at everyone present one by one, and got the same answer.

"What should I do...I still want..." Chaeyoung looked down sadly at her private parts, which were still muddy, and cum seemed to be flowing out from there. She longed for a new cock to enter it and fill the void within it.

Sana knows that the current situation could not be reversed, so she simply stops resisting and lays down on the bench obediently, raising her neck slightly to receive the man's passionate kiss.

While kissing Sana, the man stretches out his hand to knead the two bulges on Sana's chest. The other hand slips into Sana's jeans and wanders around the top of her thigh.

"Hmm..." Sana couldn't help but hum softly as she feels the stimulation coming from the sensitive parts of her body.

The man's actions become more and more unscrupulous. He pulls away Sana's jersey, bites and sucks on Sana's fair and smooth skin, leaving wet marks. At the same time, his fingers also penetrated Sana's underwear, pressing and teasing Sana's most private parts.

"Ah...ha..." Sana couldn't help but twist her body and her breathing becomes rapid.

"Sana is so sensitive, already emotional right from the beginning." The man raises his head and smiles proudly.

Sana deliberately put on a flirtatious expression, licked her lips and said, "Yes, when I see a strong man like you, I can't help but get wet down there."

"Really? Then I'm going to take good care of that 'little devil' below you." The man pulls down Sana's underwear with great interest and directly swirls the tip of his tongue on her clitoris.

"Oh...ah...no..." Sana was so stimulated that her whole body was numb, but she still keep saying seductive words in her mouth: "Harder...eat me until I am clean...um."

After hearing this, the man really increasedhis strength. His tongue flexibly rolls and licks Sana's core. Occasionally, he would insert the entire length into Sana's vaginal opening and thrust it a few times.

"Ah... it's so deep... I'm going to cum..." Sana screams, and a large amount of semen spurts out from the her clit, pouring into the man's mouth.

"Miss Sana is having some much water, I'm almost drowning." The man says and swallows all of Sana's juice, and once again takes Sana's lower body and sucks wildly.

"No... I… cum... ah -" Sana screams and spurts out spurts of orgasmic semen, all which lands on the man's naked upper body.

"Finally, I thought you were going to gag me." The man licks his lips, then stands up and unzips his pants.

After Sana sees his size clearly, she immediately covers her mouth and widened her eyes - this man's penis is too big and hard, and it seems that her pussy would be red and swollen from being penetrated.

"Don't be afraid, I will enter slowly later." The man pats Sana's head comfortingly, then turns Sana over and kneels her down on the bench.

"Let's start from the back first." The man holds his huge penis against the entrance of Sana's wet pussy, and slowly but powerfully pushed inside.

Sana couldn't help but gasp as she frld the man's hot penis gradually penetrate into her body. "It's so big...you're going to fill me up..." Sana looks back at the man, her eyes blurred and unexplained.

"You're so tight, just like a virgin." The man enjoys the way Sana's cavity walls clamps around his penis, and he couldn't help but growl in pleasure.

Sana shakes her hips and bumps back in time with the man's rhythm. "Ah...go deeper...insert it all the way inside..." Sana is completely immersed in lust, moaning wildly.

"As you wish." The man suddenly straightens his waist, and the entire length of his penis is being inserted into Sana's pussy.

"Oh!!!" Sana screams as she climbs into another orgasm, nectar leaking from the joint and soaking the bench. The man grabs Sana's waist and fucks her without stopping. He penetrates as deep as possible with every thrust, and his huge cock moves in and out of Sana's pussy like a piston, making a slurping sound.

"It feels so good... Harder... Penetrate me... Ah——" Sana is completely lost in the sea of ​​pleasure, just wanting more and more. The man is also so happy that he growls again and again. He pinches Sana's breasts and rubs them with one hand, and penetrates Sana's anus with the other hand, torturing Sana in three ways.

"Oh oh oh...” Sana feels a tingling sensation coming from her anus. Her anal canal was pried open and expanded by the man's fingers, and her tight muscles contracted instinctively, which makes the man feel even more happy.

"The hole in the back of you is also good at sucking " The man laughs.

Sana blushes with embarrassment, but her brain is soon occupied by the pleasure in both holes, and she could only scream loudly.

"Hurry...don't stop...it's coming...ahhhhh-" Sana collapses to the ground after a fierce climax, but the man does not let her go, but accelerates the fucking.

"Oh...I am going to be broken...how can you last so long..." Sana begs in a daze, but couldn't stop herself from catering to the man.

The man stops and looks at Sana with a half-smile: "Don't you like it very much? Why do you want me to stop again?"

"No...I want you..." Sana doesn't know how to express her desire, so she blushes and lowers her head.

"What do you want from me?" The man approachs step by step, licking Sana's ear.

"I want you to...insert me inside...fuck me hard..." Sana yells out these words without any hesitation, just hoping that the man could satisfy her desires.

"As you wish." The man chuckles and startes again. His cock and finger advanced deep into Sana's body at the same time, as if they were about to penetrate Sana.

"Ahhhh - it's so deep... it's about to burst... but... please don't stop..." Sana cries out as her nipples were pinched hard by the man, and a finger was inserted deeply into her anus. The sensitive points on both front and back were extremely stimulated, causing her to reach another climax very quickly.

"Ahhh... I'm going to die..." Sana rolles her eyes, a large amount of transparent juice gushes out from the place of intercourse, making the man's crotch muddy.

However, the man has no intention of stopping at all. He increases the speed of thrusting and says viciously: "You haven't been fucked enough by me yet."

Sana barely struggles to support her upper body, looks at the man and begs for mercy: "I really can't do it anymore... I'm about to be penetrated down there... You..."

The man suddenly leans down and bites Sana's lips, kissing her roughly. At the same time, the movements of his lower body become faster and harder. His huge penis is rubbing in and out of Sana's body, as if he is trying to turn Sana's vagina completely out.

"Um...slow down...I'm going to suffocate..." Sana is almost choked by the kiss, but she couldn't help but respond to the man's manipulation.

The man let go of Sana's lips, raises her chin and stares into her eyes: "You said you want me to slow down, do you want me to stop or do you want me to fuck you slower?"

Sana is stunned for a moment, and then she understands what the man meant, and her face turns red: "Just fuck me more slowly... I can bear it..."

"Very good." The man smiles with satisfaction. He indeed slows down the speed, but the intensity of the fucking increased a lot, and each thrust is as deep as possible.

"Oh...so deep...so comfortable..." Sana moans unconsciously, the nectar gurgling out and forming a clear spring on the man's thigh.

The man is even more proud when he sees this. He grabs Sana's waist and sprints hard. His thick penis quickly moves in and out of Sana's body, making a "slapping" sound.

"You are such a little devil, this pussy is just full of water." The man jokes.

Sana is ashamed, but also excited by the man's vulgar words. She couldn't help but twist her hips to meet the man's manipulation, and at the same time gently rubs her clit with her fingers, hoping to get more pleasure.

"Ahh... faster... I'm cumming..." Sana screams loudly. She feels that her orgasm is approaching, and she is only one step away from reaching the peak of bliss.

The man seems to be aware of Sana's state. He no longer holds back, but thrust with all his strength. His thick penis moves in and out of Sana's body quickly, making a "Gurgling" sound.

"Are you cumming? I'm going to make you feel so good." The man smiles evilly and suddenly accelerates his speed and sprints vigorously, crushing Sana's G-spot with every stroke.

"Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!" Sana screams as she climaxed. Her whole body convulses, and a large amount of nectar squirts out, spraying all over the man.

The man's face is sprayed with Sana's juice, but he didn't feel disgusted at all. Instead, he looks excited. "You're so horny, you squirted like this." The man teases Sana, stroking her smooth back and gently slapping her buttocks.

Sana's cheeks are so red that they are about to bleed. She never thought that she would reach such an orgasm under the gaze of a stranger. But she also feels unprecedented satisfaction and pleasure, as if her entire body was filled.

"Do you still want it? I can continue to serve you." The man whispers in Sana's ear, his voice full of temptation.

Sana shakes her head, but nods immediately. She didn't know how to answer this question. She knows her job is to satisfy the man, and desire makes her unable to resist the man's invitation.

When the man sees this, he doesn't ask any questions. He picks up Sana and turns her around into a missionary position, then kneels between her legs.

"This time I will make you completely happy." The man says as he straightens his back and inserts his penis into Sana's slippery pussy. "Oh..." Sana let out a sigh of relief. She raises her head and closes her eyes, letting the pleasure engulf her.

The man starts a new round of fucking. His movements are more powerful and rougher than before. Each thrust penetrates to the deepest point, crushing Sana's G-spot hard. At the same time, he keeps changing his rhythm, sometimes slowly, and sometimes he sprintes straight to the cervix.

"Do you like this position? I feel your vagina is sucking me tightly." The man teases while fucking.

Sana blushes with embarrassment. She knows that she must look very lustful now, but she doesn't care about it anymore and just screams loudly along with the rhythm of the man's fucking.

Sana is completely lost in the ecstasy of sex. She only knows how to follow the man's fucking and desperately wants him to penetrate deeper and faster.

"Oh... it's going to break... you inserted it too deep..." Sana cried, she could clearly feel the man's thick and long penis moving in and out of her body, and every time it was inserted as deep as possible...

The man doesn't care about this. He grabs Sana's waist and accelerates the speed. His huge penis quickly slams into Sana's body, making a "slap" sound. "I just want to see you crying and begging for mercy." The man growls, and his breathing gradually becomes heavier.

Sana couldn't bear it any longer, and she cries loudly with tears streaming down her face: "I'm cumming... Hurry up... faster..." The man fucks her more violently as if he is allowed to do so. His penis rushes wildly inside Sana, reaching the deepest point every time. Sana's womb was being hit again and again, and the pleasure sweeps over her like a tide, and soon she reaches another climax.

"Ah——!" Sana screames and bites the man's shoulder. Her whole body convulses, and a large amount of nectar squirt out again, covering the man's body.

The man is aroused by Sana's sudden attack. He growls and accelerates the speed of thrusting. His penis is rubbing rapidly inside Sana's body, and he is about to reach climax. As soon as Sana recovers from the afterglow of her climax, she was pushed up to a higher mountain by the man's wild fucking again.

Sana could clearly feel the man's thick penis thrusting deeper and deeper into her body, reaching her most sensitive sex center. She couldn't help but scream: "Don't...I’m going to break..."

However, the man ignores her cries. He grabs Sana's breasts and squeezes them hard. At the same time, he speeds up and fucks her hard. "I'm going to cum, are you ready?" the man grows, his voice a little hoarse.

Sana's reason has long since disappeared, and she just wants to pursue more and stronger pleasure. So she leaves a deep tooth mark on the man's shoulder, and at the same time twistes her hips to cooperate with the man's manipulation. "Cum in me...give it all to me..." Sana screames loudly. She could feel the man's thick penis swelling inside her body, as if it is about to spurt out in the next moment.

Sure enough, the man suddenly increased his speed, thrusting his long and thick penis rapidly inside Sana's body, hitting the G-spot hard with every thrust. Sana's senses were completely amplified at this time, and every groan and every gasp of the man turned into overwhelming pleasure and hit her.

"Oh——!" The man yells. He holds Sana's waist and penetrates deeply. His thick penis is completely immersed in Sana's body. Then a stream of hot semen shoots out and pours into Sana's womb.

Sana is also stimulated by the burning heat and reaches another climax. Her whole body is convulsing, and only broken moans are left in her mouth.

The man slowly pulls out his still erect penis, and a large amount of white turbid liquid flows out of Sana's slightly open clit, staining the bench underneath her.

Sana is a little dazed in the afterglow of orgasm, but when the man's penis is pulled out, she immediately wakes up. Sana looks at the penis that is still erected and covered with her own bodily fluids, and feels a strong desire for possession. She couldn't help but stick out her tongue and lick it gently, and then takes the entire glans in her mouth.

"Well... what a slut..." The man chuckles, but does not stop Sana's movement. He reaches out and strokes the back of Sana's head, guiding her to start cleaning up the results of his recent victory.

Sana moans seductively while licking every inch of her sex with her tongue. This scene is so erotic that the man couldn't help but sigh.

At the same time, the man does not let go of his attack on Sana. He continues to knead Sana's red and swollen breasts, and occasionally pinches the cherry at the top, causing Sana to gasp repeatedly.

"Ah... don't..." Sana still has half of his penis in her mouth, and the sounds from her mouth naturally turns into indistinct moans. But this sound is supremely beautiful music to a man's ears.

The man increases his intensity, rubbing Sana's breasts vigorously with his palms, and his penis moves back and forth into Sana's mouth, pushing into the depth of her throat from time to time. Sana feels like a lamb waiting to be slaughtered, with every part of her body being controlled by men. But she doesn't hate this feeling.

Sana's mouth is completely filled with the cock, but it was not enough to satisfy her. She swallows the huge thing harder, trying to take it all into her mouth.

When the man sees this, he doesn't stop her. He holds the back of Sana's head and thrusts his penis straight into Sana's mouth until it reaches the depths of her throat. Sana's saliva mixes with the previous body fluids, forming patches of foam between the entrance and exit of the genitals.

"Oh...it feels so good...your little mouth is really good at sucking..." The man couldn't help but growl, Sana's deep throat gives him great pleasure. Sana's mouth is narrow, moist, and hot, and Sana's tongue is very good at licking. All of this makes the man go crazy. So, the man no longer cares about Sana's feelings. He grabs Sana's hair and thrust his penis into her mouth quickly. His thick penis rubs in Sana's throat, and he soon reaches another climax.

"I'm going to cum... Just take it..." The man growls. When his penis is inserted to the deepest, he cums a large amount of hot semen, all pours into Sana's esophagus.

Sana choked and coughed from the sudden ejaculation, but she still managed to swallow most of it. She is not able to breathe until the man pulled out his genitals.

There is white liquid hanging from the corner of Sana's mouth, and there is a hint of longing in her eyes as she looks at the man.

Sana's eyes tell the man that she wanted to be creampied. But time is limited, and their game must end before others come back.

So the man leans down, bites one of Sana's earlobes, and whispers: "Wait for me, I will love you very much until midnight... According to the contract, you are my fuck toy until 12…"

After hearing the man's words, Sana's eyes immediately filled with water. The two spends a crazy afternoon in the locker room. When the whistle is blowed, the men is already dressed and ready to leave. Sana beside him is a little distracted. Although she is dressed as she came, the slightly bulging shape of her abdomen indicates some unusual condition.

On the way, the man asks Sana in a low voice: "Are you still feeling comfortable with my semen?" Sana nods shyly. Her womb is still filled with the man's semen, and she could feel the warm swaying in her body when she walks.

“Okay, Momo.”

You watch the TV as she opens her bedroom. Momo comes out wearing sexy lingerie that surprises you. Stunned as you are, she catwalks right in front of you. Your thoughts begin to run wild.

“Like the view?” Momo said.

“I-I do.”

“Touch me.” You slowly reach for her hips until she slaps your hand. “Do not touch.” Momo giggles after.

“Oh, you’re going to tease me until I can’t hold back? This is easy, Momo.”

“Oppa, don’t be so cocky.”

“We can do this all day, Momo.”

“I know you want me.” Momo teased you.

“I could say the same thing, Momo.”

You decide to tease her, wanting her to surrender to her own games. Momo sits right beside you, shoulder to shoulder, as she leans her head on you. She gets on her phone, scrolling through the internet while you patiently wait for Momo.

“You know you can check me out, right?"

“I know, Momo."

“I’ll order some pork to eat with you, but you have to get the food when they deliver it."

“Understood.” Her tits are amazing as you begin checking her out to your desires from head to toe, gulping secretly as Momo doesn't pay attention but knows you're looking at her.

You sit quietly, waiting until Momo can’t hold back. It becomes a mind game at this point, as you have all the time to make her surrender. She mashes her tits onto your shoulder, trying to get you turned on—you were, in fact, but being mentally patient is in your hands.

“The food is here; may you go grab it, please?” Momo pleaded. You stand up without a word and grab the food, coming back to sit by Momo. She opens the bag and places the food on the table. “Dig in; it’s my treat.”

You open the lids and hand Momo a fork; she stabs the rice cake, tapping your shoulders, and you look at her. Momo sucks on the rice cake, trying to make you lose your sanity and fuck her. You smile at her playfully with a gentle chuckle.

“Momo, I have all day.” You teased her and took off your shirt.

“You look slim when you wear a shirt but have some muscles.” Momo complimented your physique.

“Not much anymore.”

“I bet it’s enough for a threesome.” Momo teased you.

“Momo, don’t get any ideas."

“Is that a bullet wound?” Momo pointed near the back of your shoulders.

“It is; let’s not talk about it."

“Tell me.” 

“No.”

“You’re boring.” 

“Thanks.” You teased Momo.

“Stop being funny and fuck me already. Don’t you want to be inside me?"

“Surrender to your own game, Miss Hirai Momo.”

“No.” She picks up a slice of pork belly.

“I have all day.” You whispered in her ear and took a slice of pork belly to eat.

“Oppa, I bet you caught me checking you out when you started working for us. Even before all of this started happening.”

“It was very noticeable.”

She’s fighting her urge at this point, knowing you aren’t backing down as the pace of her heartbeat rises. You are hard already, but have enough discipline to not let hell break loose. After several minutes, the food on the table was finished. She gets up and throws the utensils away. You stare at her toned back, down to her thighs and ass. You’re amazed at her body; she's meaty and most definitely someone you would use your kinks on. She walks back, takes her bra off, and gives you a view of her tits.

“This should work on you; I know you want to touch my big tits."

“I do.” 

“Touch me.” 

“I know you’re going to shrug me off again, Momo."

“Okay, fine. I can’t take it anymore; you win. Let’s just fuck.” She takes off her panties and gets on top of you.

“Do not touch me, Momo.” You decide to tease her and grab her hands.

“Please?” 

“How bad do you want it, Momo?"

“Oppa….” Momo puts her hands together like a prayer. “Please?”

You don’t answer her and let Momo do what she wants. Momo holds onto your face, kissing you passionately as she starts to grind slowly. You get up with her legs wrapped around you and pin her to the wall near her bedroom. Momo’s tits are mashed onto your chest as she keeps kissing you.

“I love your body, Momo.”

“I know you do.”

“Get off and let me put it in, Momo."

Momo gets off, and you pull her panties down, throw her lingerie back on the couch, and insert your finger inside her. She groans loudly in surprise as you reach deep into her walls. You pull your finger out and give her a quick taste.

“You can call me anytime. Let’s fulfill our fantasies together.” Momo pleaded. 

You take off your pants and boxers, slowly teasing her folds with your tip, then insert your cock inside her. Momo squeals and moans softly as you thrust her while she spreads her legs.

“I love how deep you go into my pussy."

“You’re tight and so fucking wet already, Momo.” You penetrate her walls harder and choke her lightly. She arches her back, her head tilting more towards the wall. A small smile is seen on her face while she’s being choked. You grab onto her tits, squeezing them hard until they leave a print as you thrust slowly and deeply inside Momo. “You rather go to the bed or fuck right on this wall?”

“Fuck me here.” Momo said. 

“Bend over on the wall for me, Momo.” You pull out of her, and she turns around to give you a view of her ass. You give them a firm slap, gripping them from side to side. Momo groans as you caress and grope her. You insert your cock back in Momo as she arches more with her cheeks and hair against the wall. You penetrate her harder and pull her hair back. Momo clenches her teeth, taking your hard cock that’s giving her pain and pleasure.

All you hear are her moans and groans from being penetrated. Momo’s ass bounces each time your pelvis collides with her amazing body. You arch closer to her and grab onto her tits to make her stand up while you keep thrusting. You trace your fingers along her body with one hand and onto her neck, choking her slightly harder as you squeeze her firm tits with your other hand. The room becomes louder with a deeper tone of bodies colliding.

“Your body is perfect to fuck, Momo."

“It’s all yours…either way.” She said as she fought her groans to speak. Her voice was husky from you choking her neck. “Let me give you a special performance after your turn is over."

“I want to cum inside you first, Momo."

“I’ll make you cum again and again after this too."

“I love your confidence, Momo. It turns me so on to hear it while you’re naked."

“Fuck!” Momo yelled. 

“Cum for me, Momo. I know you want to.” You thrust her harder as her ass becomes mashed onto your pelvis. You glide your hand from her tits down to her clit, vigorously rubbing them in circles as she squirms. The room becomes louder, like a deep clap, consistently while you aggressively thrust her to your desires. Momo yells in a different pitch, clenching her teeth, and her eyes become shut. You push her to the wall gently with her cheeks mashed as she opens her mouth. She's breathing harder with her hair all messed up, clenching her teeth once again as she takes all the penetration.

Momo grabs onto your hand that’s rubbing her clit, squeezing tight as she starts to cum hard. She groans loudly, squealing next with her body all tense up and her feet curling into the floor. Her body pushes you, jerking and squirming hard as she’s still cumming. You feel how tight her walls get; thrusting harder is your only option as they become tighter. Her walls get you to your limit, pulsating violently, and you erupt inside her while she gasps for air. You release the pressure from her neck and hold onto her hips while her body is pinned to the wall.

“Momo." You took deep breaths.

“It was amazing. You came so hard."

“You did too, Momo. You’re amazing.” 

“Let’s take a break and drink the coconut water that we forgot about.” Momo laughed. You pull out of her, and thick cum oozes out quickly and onto the floor like a puddle. She squats down, scooping the top layer of cum and giving it a taste. “It tastes so good."

“Jihyo loved it too."

“I bet we all will. It’s like a prize after a hard fuck. Let’s sit on the couch.”

You walk to the couch with Momo and chug down the coconut water. Momo quickly gets on top of you, jerking you off again to get you hard. You stare at Momo; she’s giving you a seductive smile with a confident glare.

“No rest? You’re so horny, Momo.”

“I’m going to make you cum harder. I don’t care how quick it is; I’m going to keep riding.” She spits on your cock after. “You’re all mine until I get off."

“Okay, I’m sorry for teasing you when you had your clothes on.”

“It’s too late, Oppa; it’s too late.” She whispered in your ear. She inserts your cock inside as you both exchange groans again. Momo rides you slowly, planning to catch you off guard as she keeps the slow pace. You play with her tits, circling them and slapping lightly. You see a smirk in her smile as you both look at each other. She giggles after and squats on the couch. Momo picks up the pace as you squeeze her tits harder. She holds onto your shoulder, riding you aggressively, yet it’s so smooth like a wave. You groan harder and louder, closing your eyes while she's staring you down.

“Fuck, Momo!” 

“Cum if you can’t hold back. We aren’t done."

You remain in a trap, forgetting you can get her off without a problem, but she’s riding you so smoothly to the point of feeling paradise. You try to grab onto her tits, and Momo gets a hold of your hands, holding them to pin you down. She knows you enjoy this as she keeps her dominance. You breathe heavily, gasping as she gives you a soft, seductive chuckle.

“Fuck, you’re going to make me cum, Momo."

“Cum for me."

She rides you deeper, satisfying herself to see you getting exhausted quickly. There was no holding back, you erupt inside her and tilt your head back. She doesn’t stop, only wanting more to see you become weak to her riding you. She chuckles and places your hand on her tits to grab onto. You couldn’t lift your head up to see her; your head becomes heavy to even move due to her talent for riding.

“I finally get to see the weak side of you.” Momo teased you.

“You-”

“Want me to slow down?” You couldn’t respond as she kept riding. You breathe harder, trying to catch your breath. Momo doesn’t let you relax and keeps her pace to make you cum again. “I guess it’s a no."

You squeeze her tits as hard as possible, and she moans erotically at your aggression. She picks up the pace with riding and grinding on your cock. You can tell she’s not even tired from all her work, as she somehow keeps going. She lifts your head up and looks at each other. Her hair becomes more messy with stands glued to her opened mouth. She arches towards you to make out passionately, exchanging breaths while her ass collides with your pelvis.

You get to your limit after several minutes, exhausted at this point with your cock pulsating for another round of cum inside her pussy. 

“Momo, I’m-” You erupt hard inside her as your body tenses up. She pauses deep on your cock, letting all the cum flood her walls as Momo moans from feeling you erupt inside her. She aggressively makes out with you. Suddenly, Nayeon opens the door without you and Momo knowing. Nayeon screams at the sudden appearance of you and Momo fucking on the couch. You both stare at Nayeon in silence.

“Na-” You couldn’t finish your word in surprise.

“Oops, we got caught, Oppa.” Momo said. 

“What the fuck is wrong with you, Momo?" Nayeon said. 

“I thought you’d be back in two hours."

“I never said it would take two hours.” Nayeon said in a displeased tone. 

You sit there quietly with your cock still inside Momo and your hands on her tits. Nayeon goes to her room and closes the door. You try to get Momo off, but she doesn’t budge.

“Momo, I should go say sorry to her."

“Let her be until she cools down. How was my performance?"

“I-It was great, Momo. You got me there."

“Did it feel good?” She gives you a hug as her tits glue to your face. “Don’t pull out yet. Let’s rest for a bit."

“If it wasn’t good, then I wouldn’t have cum inside you two times while you were riding me."

“I’m glad you loved it. I did too.” She caresses your nape.

You both sit in silence, with you exploring her tits, kissing and nibbling them passionately as time goes by. She gives you more space, letting you check her body out.

“Can I feel your body for a bit more?"

“Of course.” She looks at you while you caress every part of her body. She happily smiles just seeing how gentle you can be without a wild time together. “Can we fuck gently and passionately next time?"

“We can. I want to see how passionate you can be, Momo."

“Is that how it went with Jihyo?” Momo gets off with more cum oozing out and sucks you off slowly with her tongue licking the underside of your cock.

“Yeah, we both had a good time. Can I go apologize to Nayeon now?"

“Yeah, sorry for making us get caught.” Momo kisses your cock. “Go to her; I’ll lick the tasty cum off myself."

“It’s okay, Momo. We had a good time either way.” You walk to Nayeon after dressing and knock on her door.

“Yes?” Nayeon said. 

“I’m sorry for disturbing you, Nayeon."

“It’s okay, Oppa; I didn’t expect to see it right on the couch. Next time, just do it at your house if you can with Momo."

“I will, Nayeon. See you next time."

“Alright, see you."

You walk back to Momo as she puts on her clothes in her room. “I’ll head out now, Momo."

“I guess; see ya.” She walks you to the door, and you head back home. While you’re going home, Momo walks to Nayeon’s room with a small sample of your cum to give Nayeon a taste.

“Taste it; it’s good.”

Nayeon looks at Momo with disgust. “Um, fine.” 

Under this dual pressure, Jeongyeon’s psyche began to warp. She became obsessed with perverse erotic novels, finding fleeting pleasure in their pages.

When night fell, Jeongyeon would sneak into public restrooms, locking herself in the innermost stall. Stripping off her clothes, she faced the grimy walls and began to masturbate.

Her mind was consumed by the wild plots of those stories: rape, domination, humiliation… The thought of these sent heat coursing through her body. She yearned to be ravaged, to be toyed with until her mind unraveled, like the heroines in her novels.

“Mmm… give me more… harder…” Jeongyeon moaned softly with her eyes closed, her fingers moving rapidly between her legs. She deliberately made louder noises, fantasizing about someone bursting in, stripping away her dignity and boundaries.

After what felt like an eternity, Jeongyeon reached climax. She collapsed to the floor, tears streaming down her face. This perverse pleasure left her feeling hollow and sorrowful, yet she was powerless to stop.

9:46 PM

While the other members of TWICE were preparing for their comeback, Jeongyeon was left alone in the dorm again. While watching erotic novels before going to bed, the power suddenly went out due to a faulty circuit breaker. With no other option, Jeongyeon called her manager for help. The manager and his assistant, who were out dining, promised to come over after hearing about the blackout.

The manager and assistant arrived soon and told Jeongyeon to wait while the assistant went to fetch tools and a new circuit breaker. As they waited, the manager struck up a conversation with Jeongyeon.

Soon, the assistant returned with the tools. In the dark dorm, the manager had Jeongyeon hold a flashlight while he worked on replacing the circuit breaker, with the assistant observing nearby.

At that moment, Jeongyeon noticed the manager and assistant staring at her with lecherous eyes. An inexplicable wave of desire surged within her, making it hard to control herself. Feeling overheated, she handed the flashlight to the assistant and stumbled into the bathroom in the dark. The manager continued working on the breaker, while the assistant smirked mischievously.

In the bathroom, Jeongyeon, overwhelmed by desire, even she had just masturbated crazy in a public toilet, clamped her thighs together, bent over the toilet lid, and supported herself with one hand while the other reached down, frantically rubbing her clitoris. She knew she shouldn’t be doing this, but her body’s intense reaction was uncontrollable.

“Why? Why this sudden, overwhelming lust? Why? I can’t take it anymore!” Jeongyeon thought as she pleasured herself, her hips facing the bathroom door. Suddenly, the lights came back on, and she felt a hand on her buttocks. Startled, she stopped but remained bent over, too nervous to look back.

The manager, caressing her round buttocks, said, “Jeongyeon, are you that lonely? Masturbating in the bathroom when there are men in the dorm? TWICE’s girls are so naughty.” The assistant, seeing Jeongyeon in such a compromising position, was stunned but quickly became aroused.

Blushing and too shy to turn around, but being horny at the same time, Jeongyeon whispered, “Oppa, you can’t do this… we’re colleagues.”

“Haha, it’s because we’re colleagues that we should help relieve your loneliness. We’re just being helpful!” the manager said shamelessly, reaching around to unhook her bra. Jeongyeon let out a reluctant “ah.”

The manager pulled down her pajama pants and underwear, leaving her in just her top, her pale, round buttocks fully exposed to the two men.

“So beautiful,” the manager muttered. Both men eagerly groped her soft, white buttocks, occasionally squeezing the flesh.

“Oppa, don’t… don’t bully me like this… it’s not right…” Jeongyeon squirmed slightly, as if trying to evade their hands, but to the two men, it seemed like she was enticing them further.

“Bro, her skin is so smooth, so soft. I wonder how it feels to fuck her,” the assistant said. Jeongyeon buried her face in the toilet lid, too ashamed to face them, but her position made it all too easy for them to molest her. The assistant slipped his hand under her top, roughly kneading her breasts, shaping them into various forms and tugging at her nipples. The manager knelt down, licking her vagina, which was already wet with arousal. His teasing made her labia glisten, her pink folds irresistibly tempting.

“Ah… mm… ah… you can’t… you can’t do this…” Jeongyeon moaned, her remaining shred of rationality making a final stand. The assistant, still groping her breasts, kissed her ears and lifted her shoulders to kiss her face. Jeongyeon’s face was flushed with desire, driving the assistant to kiss her neck, cheeks, and lips passionately. Jeongyeon, moaning, reciprocated, extending her tongue to meet his kisses.

The manager moved his tongue to the area between her anus and vagina, his fingers relentlessly stimulating her clitoris. He licked around her wet anus, probing it with his tongue.

“Ah… ah… don’t… don’t lick there…” Jeongyeon was incoherent, her mind already surrendering to the assault of the two men.

The manager, licking her anus, stood up and said, “, I’ll let you go first. I’ll play with her tits.” Feeling the absence of the manager’s tongue, Jeongyeon felt a strange sense of loss. The assistant dropped his pants, positioned himself behind her, and thrust his erect cock into her vagina.

“Ah… ah…” Jeongyeon felt a rush of fulfillment, accepting the assistant’s assault.

“So good, Jeongyeon. I’ve wanted to fuck you for so long but never had the chance. You’re always so glamorous on stage, I didn’t dare speak much. Turns out you’re such a slut, seducing us to rape you when the others aren’t around,” the assistant said as he thrust.

He watched his cock slide in and out of her vagina, stretching her opening wide, the visual stimulation intense. His cock glistened with her juices. Her pink vagina opened and closed with each thrust.

“Fuck… fuck my pussy… it feels so good… so big… I can’t take it… mm… ah… ah…” The manager sat on the toilet lid, Jeongyeon’s head resting between his legs. He lifted her face, urging her to suck him. With a trace of rationality left, Jeongyeon was overwhelmed by the sight of his cock. Under his coercion, she took half of it into her mouth. The manager enjoyed her blowjob, grabbing her breasts and teasing her nipples.

The assistant, holding her waist, began thrusting rapidly, continuing for about 20 minutes. Jeongyeon’s legs weakened, her body leaning heavily on the manager. His cock went deeper into her mouth, causing her to gag and choke from the intensity.

The assistant’s thighs slapped against her buttocks, reddening them with each impact. Choking on the manager’s cock and overwhelmed by the assistant’s thrusts, Jeongyeon struggled, but the assistant kept pounding her vagina. As he came, she collapsed to the floor, gasping for air.

The assistant, sweating from the exertion, felt exhilarated watching Jeongyeon collapse. The manager stood, lifted her, washed her face, and stripped off her remaining clothes, leaving her completely naked.

He sat her on the toilet lid, placed her legs on his shoulders, and thrust his thick cock into her vagina. The size caused her pain, and she grimaced, clutching his waist as he pounded her. He moved slowly, grinding against her, mixing her juices with the assistant’s semen, and rubbed her clitoris.

Jeongyeon moaned, “Ah… ah… it feels so good… Oppa, you’re fucking me so good…”

The manager said, “Hold her arms. I’ll show you something exciting.”

The assistant grabbed her arms, pulling them from the manager’s waist. The manager sped up, flipping her labia with each thrust. Jeongyeon, never having experienced such a large cock, screamed, “Ah… ah…” The assistant rapidly rubbed her clitoris, overwhelming her with pleasure.

“Ah… ah… Oppa, stop… you can’t fuck me like this… I’ll break… ah…” Jeongyeon trembled, unable to resist the two men. As the manager thrust and the assistant teased her clitoris, she suddenly urinated, spraying onto the manager. Shocked but thrilled, he realized he had reduced a beloved idol to such a state.

Jeongyeon arched her back, screaming, “Ah… ah… don’t…” before climaxing. Her body was covered in urine, sweat, and juices, experiencing unprecedented stimulation.

Exhausted, her arms hung limply as the manager continued fucking her vagina. The assistant placed his cock at her mouth, and she obediently opened it, letting him thrust inside.

In TWICE’s dorm, the manager and assistant took turns—one fucking her vagina, the other her mouth. The assistant deliberately thrust deeply, aroused by her submissive demeanor.

Five minutes later, the assistant shoved his cock fully into her mouth, causing her to struggle and gag, tears and snot streaming down her face. The manager kept pounding her vagina, pulling out and thrusting back in, making her body tremble. Seeing her pained yet aroused expression, the assistant came in her throat.

After cumming, the assistant felt no fatigue, still stroking her body. The manager continued raping her for another half hour before shooting his load deep inside her.

In over an hour, both men had cummed in her mouth and vagina. Exhausted, Jeongyeon sat limply on the toilet, semen dripping from her vagina, too ashamed to look at them.

The manager, crouching to admire her dripping vagina, said excitedly, “Good thing I was prepared and captured this moment.” A camera on the counter had recorded everything.

The assistant, playing with her vagina, said, “Jeongyeon, want more? We’ve helped you relieve your urges.”

Jeongyeon, head bowed, said nothing, her breasts heaving. The assistant’s fingers teased her vagina, slipping inside.

“…Mm…” Jeongyeon moaned instinctively.

The assistant kissed her, speeding up his fingers. Under his teasing, she moaned erotically again.

“…Ah… ah… no more, Oppa… I’m exhausted… ah… mm… ah…” After a few minutes, she climaxed again, urinating high into the air, to the manager’s delight.

3:30 AM

Jeongyeon lay on the bed’s edge, the manager holding her legs, thrusting steadily into her vagina. She was giving the assistant a blowjob, her head hanging off the bed, aligning her throat for deep penetration. The assistant’s cock went fully inside, his pubic hair covering her face, her throat bulging as she swallowed.

Her deep throating pleased the assistant. After a few seconds, he pulled out.

“Cough… cough…” Jeongyeon choked, grabbing his cock to stop him, saying seductively, “Oppa, you’ll kill me!”

The assistant chuckled, groping her breasts, saying, “How could I? I love you too much! Who else would we play with? Come on, keep going.” He thrust back into her mouth.

Jeongyeon obediently continued. After a night of relentless assault, the men’s rhythm was perfect. Soon, her body writhed, gripping the sheets, legs alternating between closing and spreading, toes curling, breathing heavily.

The men exchanged a knowing smile and sped up. Seconds later, Jeongyeon trembled violently, legs clamping around the manager’s waist, her body arching in a sensual curve.

After two minutes of climax, she relaxed. The men stepped back, their erect cocks twitching. Jeongyeon lay smiling, her limbs twitching slightly.

Ten minutes later, she slowly got up. The assistant hugged her from behind, asking, “How was it? Good?”

Leaning weakly against him, she brushed her hair aside and shyly said, “Damn Oppa… you’ll kill me eventually.”

The manager pinched her chin, saying, “Slut, we haven’t even cum yet. What now?”

Jeongyeon glanced at him, her voice dripping with seduction, “Then let this little slut serve you well!” She stood and kissed the manager passionately.

“Bro, mind if I go first?” the assistant asked.

“Go ahead. She almost sucked me dry earlier,” the manager replied. The assistant kissed Jeongyeon, thrusting into her vagina and pumping away.

Watching them, the manager hugged her from behind, saying, “I’ll take the back door, slut.”

“Mm… mmm…” Jeongyeon, lost in the kiss, mumbled in agreement. The manager spit on his hand, rubbed his softening cock, and pressed it against her anus, saying, “Here it comes,” before thrusting in.

“Mmm… mmm…” Jeongyeon moaned muffledly, her mouth occupied.

“So tight…” the manager gasped.

“Yeah, her front’s tight too. Still like a virgin after all this. She’s perfect!” the assistant said, pulling away from her mouth.

“Ah… Oppa… you bad guys… you’ve played with every part of me…” Jeongyeon panted, her voice intoxicatingly seductive.

“Idols are just different. So much better than regular sluts,” the manager said, groping her breast.

“Yeah… it’s like fucking a corpse with them…” the assistant said, thrusting hard.

“You… pervy Oppas…” Jeongyeon gasped.

Sandwiched between them, she moaned, “Oppa… faster… I’m coming… so good… you’re killing me… ah…” She trembled violently, climaxing again.

The men didn’t stop, continuing to fondle her breasts and body while fucking her vagina and anus in sync.

The wet sounds grew louder. Jeongyeon trembled again, clearly thrilled by the prolonged assault, cooperating fully.

After about 15 minutes, with Jeongyeon climaxing again, she hugged the assistant tightly, unable to make a sound, her hands gripping his back, knuckles white, feet arched, toes curled.

The men, reaching their limit, panted heavily, thrusting faster.

“Oh…” The manager roared, pressing against her buttocks, his scrotum contracting as he came in her anus.

“I’m cumming… ah…” The assistant hugged her tightly, thrusting deep, shooting his load into her vagina.

 SinB sat at home, wondering what to do. She had nothing planned, and while she could go out, she didn't particularly want to. As she turned over in bed, she looked at her nightstand. On the little table were her toys, various dildos and vibrators, shamelessly sitting there. SinB debated using them, but there was little desire to do so. A toy was good and all, but right now SinB felt like it wouldn't be enough; she wanted the real thing.

The young woman huffed. She reached over and grabbed her phone. She flicked through pictures and opened apps, going through everything in her boredom. Then she saw something that caught her eye. It was a cock, a long and thick one. She wasn't shocked; on the internet, people got around to posting things they definitely shouldn't have, and they'd be banned for it. Still looking at it, it piqued her interest. Then she read the caption, which was asking for someone to fuck in their area. Better yet, it was close to SinB; she recognized the address. SinB made another account; she wouldn't be caught using her own to direct message someone.  She took a deep breath and began typing out a message. She saw what she liked and wanted it. SinB might not have known what kind of girl you were into, but she figured with a cock like that, someone submissive might seem better. SinB could play any role, so it didn't matter that much. Once the message was sent, she took a deep breath. Hopefully, she would get a message back soon. In a blink-and-you'll-miss-it moment, she got an immediate response. She was a little shocked to hear back so quickly, but it was all for the better. She had an itch that needed scratching. 

You and SinB chatted, exchanging quick pleasantries before getting down to business. 

“So you’re looking to fuck?”

“Yeah, I really need a big fat cock right now.”

“I’m going to need to see a photo,” you text. SinB furrowed her brow; she didn’t exactly want to show her face. 

“Is a body shot okay?”

“That’ll work, but I want it nude.” 

“Fair enough,” she thought to herself. This was for the purposes of fucking, and they’d see each other later. SinB stood out of bed and walked over to the floor-length mirror. It was a good thing she was already naked—a small perk of sleeping in the nude. SinB gives a quick peace sign before snapping the picture. She looked it over quickly, making sure her face wasn’t visible and nothing of note was in the background. Once she was sure, she sent it over to you. “I’ll be wearing a mask during this. As much as I need you to fuck me up with your cock, I don’t need anyone to know what I’m doing.”

“Fine by me, but I’m going to need one more picture, from the back this time.” SinB rolled her eyes at the request. At this point, she thought she was in for a penny, in for a pound. She turned around and snapped a picture of her backside. The picture was sent, and then the two of you began discussing details. “Can I come over now?” She asked. The response was an immediate yes. Finally securing a fuckbuddy. SinB started to get dressed. The young woman didn’t bother to wear panties or a bra. They wouldn’t be of any use anyway. 

Dressed, SinB went on her way to your home. She did have to make a quick return to grab a mask. In her haste, she had nearly forgotten to put one on. She was right, the place was nearby. The moment she stepped into your home, you commanded her to strip down. Considering you were already naked, she had no problem with it. The young woman’s eyes were glued to your stiff cock. You hadn’t lied about what you were packing, and for that, she was thankful. She was also thankful you happened to pop up on her feed. You lead the young woman to your bedroom and take a seat on the bed. “Crawl for me, let me see what I bagged.”

SinB was glad that what lay before her matched the pictures she had seen. She smiled behind her mask and dropped to her knees. She crawled toward you, keeping her back arched and hips swaying. She would be happy to service you. She wrapped her hand around your length, her thumb tracing one of your veins. She moved along your shaft, watching your cock intently. She was getting wetter just looking at it. A handjob wasn’t going to be enough. “Go on and suck it. I see that look in your eyes.”

SinB smirked. She knew she had a terrible poker face when it came to sex.  SinB inched closer to you. She pulled the bottom of her mask and stuck her tongue out, the slick tip appearing to you, dripping saliva onto the tip of your cock. She moved lower, concealing your length as she wrapped her lips around it. It's like a disappearing act with the mask involved. Your cock disappearing into the young woman’s moist and warm mouth. You groan, enjoying the experienced mouth of your new fuck buddy. She moves along your shaft, reaching the base with a little effort. It turns you on the way she chokes on your cock, the small gags, and the teary eyes as she forces herself to stay near the base. 

You remember her opening messages and take advantage of this opportunity. You place your hands on the sides of SinB’s head and start thrusting your hips, fucking her face with increasing pace. SinB relaxed her jaw, letting you do as you pleased. There was something about having a cock being rammed down her throat that turned her on. Her hand went between her legs, finding her sopping cunt. She rubbed her clit, going in small circles. SinB’s moans were muffled at times, but you could tell she was trying to speak. What she said didn’t matter because you both knew she wanted this. The young woman placed her hand on your thigh, gripping it tightly as she got closer to cumming. “You love being facefucked, don’t you, you little slut.”

“I love it. I love big fucking cocks,” SinB tried to say. It was all but impossible with your cock still ramming the back of her throat. Her eyes shot open for a brief moment as you held her to your crotch. Then they slowly fell, half-lidded as your thickcum poured down her throat. You pulled out a bit, letting the young woman enjoy the taste as it filled her mouth. You might not have been able to see it, but SinB’s cheeks were hollowed out as she sucked as hard as she could, wanting every last drop. Even once your orgasm has ended, SinB keeps sucking, bobbing her head a few more times before leaving it with a pop.

The young woman makes sure to adjust her mask, keeping it over the lower half of her face. Her eyes never leave your cock, though, even after cumming, you were still hard.“Fuck, you really know how to treat a guy’s cock right. Why don’t you climb on up and ride this thing?”

SinB climbs onto you. She squats above your cock, her hand wrapping around your slick shaft as she aligns her aching cunt with you. “I’ve needed this all day.”

“Then go on, ride this fucking dick like your life depends on it.” You bring your hand to SinB’s ass, making her suppress a moan. She giggles before lowering herself. The young woman cranes her neck, eyes shutting as she relishes the sensation of your cock stretching her entrance. The head was splitting her apart, and as she took more into her warm folds, SinB’s voice trickled out. This was just what she had been craving. She took your cock deep into her needy cunt, stretching it to its limits. SinB let out a loud groan. She was absolutely stuffed. You were pressing against her womb. The young woman pushed on her knees to lift herself. It was difficult, though; her walls were clamping onto your cock, refusing to let it go easily. 

“C’mon slut, bounce on this dick,” you tell her, spanking her ass. SinB drops onto your cock one more time. The vice grip she has on you feels incredible, along with the warmth of her core. The pace she was moving at, though, left a lot to be desired. “I’ll do it myself,” you tell the young woman, grabbing onto her waist. You begin to bounce SinB on your cock, with a little force, you can easily slide her along your length, her slick walls still desperate for your cock. SinB grips your arms, moaning constantly. You watch her small tits bounce along with her, her soft flesh jiggling. 

You begin to thrust into her, adding to the pleasure she feels. “Fuck, fuck,” SinB grunts. She places her hands on your chest, supporting herself as you drive yourself into her. “I-I can’t–cumming!” SinB cries out, her walls clamping down on your shaft. As SinB cums on your cock you slip your hands under her legs and around her back. You slowly rise to your feet, keeping yourself connected to the young woman. You walk over to the windows, pressing her against it as you ram your length into her womb. SinB cries out. She presses her hands against the glass; her feet are by her head as you fold her in half. The only support she has is your hands on her ass. She feels your nails digging into her flesh, and your rough thrusts bring her to the edge of another orgasm. 

“Is this what you wanted?”

“Yes! Yes! It’s exactly what I wanted, what I needed.” SinB shouts, more moans spilling from her lips with every thrust, the sound filling the room along with the clapping of your bodies.

“Yeah, tell me all about it.”

“Toys can’t even compare to the real thing. A real fucking cock doesn’t stretch me out and fuck me until I can’t feel my legs.” SinB’s head rests against the glass, her core tightens as her orgasm approaches, and as much as she tries to hold it back, it becomes impossible. 

“A toy can’t cum inside you either,” you remark, burying yourself inside her fertile cunt. SinB lets out a low groan as your cum is pumped into her body. You feel her walls flexing around your cock, dragging every drop of cum out of you. “Such a tight cunt, I bet you want more, don’t you?”

“Please, please, fill my slutty pussy with more cum,” She mumbles. You bring SinB over to the bed, turning her onto her stomach and raising her ass into the air. You bring your hand down on her ass once more; the few strikes you’ve given her already have her skin turning a bright red. “More,” SinB groans, shaking her ass for you. You smirk as the young woman asks for more punishment. You bring your hands down on her cheeks, watching her ass recoil. You deliver more strikes, alternating which cheek gets hit. SinB keeps her face to the mattress and ass raised high, each hit had her biting her bottom lip, pleasure building from each stinging hit. 

She took a deep breath when the spanking finally ended. Then she cried out as you pierce her with your length. You hold onto her waist with one hand as the other grabs her hair. You pull her head back as you drive your cock back into her. SinB has drool dripping from the corners of her mouth, soaking her mask as you drive her crazy. Each thrust makes her lurch forward. When you pull her back, you match it with a thrust, making sure each time you ram into her womb. 

“Oh, fuck, fuck,” SinB mumbles, her body tingling all over. She could only focus on the sensation of your slick cock sliding in and out of her, pushing your cum out of her cunt to make room for more. As your cock began to throb, SinB tried pushing her ass back against you. She had little strength, though at the moment, she was nothing more than a toy for you to use, and she had no problem with that. The itch that had been bothering her was finally gone, and on top of that, she found someone who could be a great fuck buddy. The moment you buried yourself inside her, SinB reached another peak, her vision blurring as you came inside her again. Your searing cum poured into her womb again. If she wasn’t on the pill, she was certain you would get her pregnant with the amount you were pumping into her. Even with your cock inside her, it began to flow out of her abused cunt. Her pussy is left gaping as you pull out and spurt the last of your cum onto her back. SinB lets out a shuddered sigh. She felt content. You take a seat beside SinB, looking at your work. 

After some time, SinB regains enough energy. “That was amazing.”

“Yeah, now why don’t you take a little walk of shame, go back home with my cum on your back?”

“Okay,” SinB said with a giggle. SinB slowly got up, her legs wobbly as she dressed herself. The amount of cum you poured into her left the crotch of her pants wet, and her backless shirt made it quite obvious what she had done. “How about I come back in a couple of days?”

Minutes ago, she'd waved her phone at the massive bonfire circle, claiming she needed pristine starlight shots to make up for her Bubble radio silence.

Every MIDZY knew she was the group's relentless photo spammer on Bubble, but she hadn't posted a single thing since they landed in Jeju. Her camera roll was basically useless right now. The golden hour sunset photos from two days ago were gorgeous, except Minho had taken them, and her face in every shot was a fucking liability.

So the Bubble update was a pretty bulletproof excuse. Nobody questioned content creation.

They'd pushed Minho to sing, then shoved her until she joined him, and the moment his voice slid effortlessly with hers, her chest dragged tight. It sounded too good, too right. She couldn't even finish the song before the panic hit her throat.

I want this. I just want to sit in the fucking sand and sing dumb songs with him for the rest of my life.

That drove her straight out of the firelight. Since when did she want anything but winning that badly?

The sky out here was nice and clear, even if the bonfire smoke kept drifting in ugly grey patches across the beach, and her phone camera had a night mode that was supposed to make this look professional. She just needed ONE clean shot to prove her alibi before Yuna started posing with Winter's failed s'mores, or Ryujin heaved an entire log into the flames just to make a spark explosion. She'd been on dangerous levels of watch this energy all night because Yunjin kept laughing.

Standing near the edge of the basalt drop, Yeji locked her shoulders back and kept her chin high. Her default response to panic - well, to everything, really - was to just brace like she was waiting for a spotlight. The Pacific beat itself white against the lava blocks below. The racer back crop top had been more than fine near the fire, but out here, the wind slid under the hem and spiked goosebumps along her ribs. She ignored the cold, tilting her head awkwardly backward to shove the phone high into the dark, and tapped the moon icon on the screen.

The first photo came out blurry.

"Ah, jinjja," she muttered. Seriously?

She wiped the lens against the cleanest part of her crop top and tried again. The second shot caught a smear of orange from the bonfire, and the third turned the stars into little white scratches like dust on a mirror. On the next try, the wind shoved her hair across her face right as the shutter opened.

Fucking amateur.

Hwang Yeji didn't do amateur. Hwang Yeji trained mistakes out of her body before debut.

Shoving the loose hair behind her ear, her fingers brushed the collar of the crop top. Her hand stopped there against her neck, pressing flat over the tender, swollen mark Minho had sucked into the side of her throat that morning.

They’d ended up on the living room couch under the duvet after absolutely demolishing their bedroom last night. Waking up in the morning light, she'd simply pulled her panties aside, guided him back inside her, too tired for a real round but needing him stretching her out. He’d slid in slow, steadying her hips with one hand while his thumb held firm against her clit to keep her quiet. Every time she rolled her hips, she had to bite his arm and let him suck her throat muffle-tight so she wouldn't make a sound as he filled her up deep, taking the greedy, shameless thrill of his hot load inside her while her members made matcha steps away.

They’d been dead quiet. He'd kept her locked down under the blanket, so they’d gotten away with it. Sure, Ryujin had aggressively slammed the fridge door twice, Lia had kicked the leg of the couch on her way to the sink, Chaeryeong had dropped three whole strawberries into the matcha, and Yuna had walked in, seen the couch, walked right back out, then returned with a much louder "Good morning!" before asking, "Unnie, are you cold?" while staring directly at the duvet until Yeji nearly bit through Minho's arm, but nobody had said a word. They DEFINITELY hadn't suspected a thing.

Focus.

She lowered the phone, annoyed with herself, then raised it again.

Was it ever just the sex?

She waited for the usual shrug to settle into her shoulders, but her skin stayed cold. The phone pulsed in and out of focus, searching and searching stars it couldn't understand, and for a split second the black screen reflected her own face back at her. Wind-raw cheeks and hair in her mouth.

She turned the screen away.

Just take the fucking picture, Hwang Yeji.

The camera struggled to find light. The screen dissolved into noisy gray static, just like that memory from Practice Room B, five years ago.

Cold linoleum pressed against her cheek. The rough edges of the crumpled vocal evaluation sheet bit into her fist. The red D on the paper glared back at her until her head spun.

When Minho had shoved the door open looking for an empty mirror to drill choreo, she hated him for catching her. Except he'd skipped the bullshit trainee platitudes, dropping his bag to sit close enough for their shoulders to touch, and rested his warm hand on the back of her neck to steady her.

She'd sobbed into his shoulder and whispered for him to stay, and minutes later they were fucking on the scuffed floor as she begged him to keep the mess inside so she wouldn't get it on her clothes.

From that night on, it became the fix. Every time the schedule choked her out, every time the pressure made her head hurt, she dragged him into locked vocal booths, empty dorms, and after he quit, his modest apartment in Seongnae-dong, minutes away from the JYP building. Obviously, she loved the sex. It didn't help that he had a stupidly good cock and knew exactly how to pound her pussy until her head shut up.

She also taught him to stop counting steps, because he'd taught her how to stay.

Just sex. Right.

The phone slipped a little in her freezing fingers. Down the beach, Yuna's loud laugh rattled through a high-pitched scream. She should probably go back before someone set a sleeve on fire on the beach.

She held her ground on the rock.

She dragged her thumb down to kill the exposure, forcing the digital sky pitch black until the stars sharpened into clean white points.

The second the stage lights died at her debut showcase, her eyes swept the aisle seats in rows six and seven. She caught nothing but a bulky staff camera and someone's eomma waving a lightstick.

Not him.

Fine. He'd quit. People quit. She didn't.

After that, there'd been more seats to search. Nine days after debut, they broke the industry record for the fastest girl group win. The M Countdown trophy hit her hands, her fingers shaking so badly she almost dropped the acrylic while floor directors shoved them toward their encore marks. DALLA DALLA kept winning. ICY kept winning. By winter, rookie awards had piled up until managers were telling her to switch arms before broadcasts caught her trembling under the bouquets and gold edges.

And every single time the confetti cannons fired, her chin snapped up. Scanning the VIP pits. The sponsor tables. The camera risers. The suffocating crush of staff clogging the wings.

Not him.

Then WANNABE blew up so hard everybody knew the shoulder move. Their practice room mirrors fogged from sweat, Ryujin's shoulders became everyone's business, and Yeji kept smiling through encore stages with tape biting under her costume because being the top girl group of their generation meant they didn't get to look tired. LOCO took them higher. Billboard screenshots appeared in the group chat at insane hours, while hotel curtains opened in foreign cities she only saw through van windows and stage entrances.

She looked there, too. Raking the balcony tiers. Hunting through the catwalks. Squinting past the lighting desks. Staring dead into the absolute black drop past the pyrotechnics.

Not him.

And the bigger the numbers got, the faster the public took their cut, until less and less of her actually belonged to her. CHECKMATE made them million-sellers while everyone argued about SNEAKERS. CHESHIRE sold anyway, but they never performed it after the initial promotions because it'd taken a toll on their vocal cords. CAKE sold anyway, but the comment sections still chewed through them, and when Lia finally stepped back, Yeji read the statement once, blamed herself by the second line, and drove her heels into the next rehearsal floor until the junior staff stopped talking. When the label screamed or the internet turned, she'd gone numb and fixed it. Sang harder. Danced harder.

The world kept handing her proof that she'd made it, but her eyes kept checking the room anyway.

Not him.

Her thumb dragged too far across the screen, and KakaoTalk opened instead of the camera roll.

Of course it did.

His name sat at the top of the list because she'd sent him a photo of Chaeryeong's terrible grilled abalone earlier, which was normal. Sharing evidence of food crimes was normal. Keeping the thread open for no reason was also normal if nobody asked.

Having him pinned was normal too. She had needs. He always answered.

A week ago, in the dorm, she'd lain on her bed with her phone face down on her stomach and typed

Yeji: come to Jeju with me 🖤

before her ears burned up and she deleted it so fast her nails slipped on the glass. The black heart had been hers for so long that MIDZY treated it like official branding, which was annoying because Minho had picked it first, years ago when she'd refused to use red hearts because they looked needy. After one practice where she'd terrorized Lia for blaming a missed count on a slippery floor, he'd texted

Minho: scary girl 🖤

like that was a compliment. When she'd demanded to know why black, he'd said,

Minho: because it's your favorite color

Which, unfortunately, was true.

How the fuck did he know that, anyway?

Then he'd added that red looked too harmless for a girl who smiled like she was about to win a knife fight.

She'd told him to shut up.

Then she'd used it once. Fans loved it. The company noticed. The stupid thing became hers.

Which meant she could send it to millions of strangers after a selfie, but not to him. Not when he knew exactly where it came from. Also, who the fuck sends hearts to their fuck buddy? Too much. Weird. Unnecessary. They weren't that.

She'd tried again the day before they went.

Yeji: I'm going to Jeju with the girls tomorrow. Yeji: Five days. Minho: oh Minho: that's a long time Yeji: We haven't fucked in three weeks. Minho: yeah Minho: i know Minho: do you want me there? Yeji: Bring sunscreen. Minho: ok Minho: what flight should i take? Yeji: Figure it out. Yeji: There's a 21:40 from Gimpo after you get off work. Yeji: I'll ask manager-nim to pick you up. Yeji: Aewol Beach Resort. We're renting a villa.

She let her hand drop to the mattress, ready to lock the screen and be done with it. Except not even a second later, she pulled the phone back up.

Yeji: Text me when you land, ok?

She tossed the device face down on the sheets and rolled onto her side, pressing the back of her hand against her mouth until her jaw stopped aching. He'd taken the demand at face value, accepting five days in Jeju alongside her members - even though he'd never met them properly since the Busan calamity - as a given and jumping straight to flight logistics, leaving her alone with a stomach churning so hard she thought she might puke.

The next evening, after his shift, he got on a plane anyway, still wearing his blue dress shirt.

He showed up with a single backpack and tired eyes, and the new bottle of sunscreen was shoved right into a side mesh pocket so she could see the label. He never actually used it, though. Yesterday, Yuna had snatched the bottle first and rubbed it all over Yeji's shoulders on the beach with both hands, frantic enough to leave white streaks along her collarbone.

Yah, that was weird.

She stared at the old Kakao messages until the screen drifted into gray, and the moment her reflection rose over his name, she clicked the lock button and turned her thumb back to the camera app. She only needed one clean photo. One aesthetic shot to prove her fake Bubble alibi, so she could walk back to the fire and pretend everything was fine.

She lifted the phone and held her breath during the three-second countdown of the lens shutter.

Fuck, still blurry.

Her hands had jumped before the first sound of footsteps even hit the basalt path behind her.

She stared out at the ocean, though her rigid shoulders finally dropped. She slid the phone into her back pocket and stepped straight to the edge of the black columns. The stars burned bright and stubborn over the Pacific. Still unsparkling. Still useless.

***

[MINHO'S POV]

The bonfire had burned down to a low orange flicker on the beach behind me, leaving the wind to drag the last sounds of laughter away until the ocean swallowed the rest of the night.

Yeji had slipped away from the fire a while ago. Ryujin had noticed first, of course. She'd eventually caught my eye across the sand, giving me a look that casually promised murder before jerking her chin out toward the dark.

I found Yeji standing near the edge of the black lava columns in just that thin crop top, her shoulders tight against the cold as the coastal wind whipped across her bare arms. The basalt dropped away in broken steps beneath her sneakers, tidewater flashing white between the cracks below. A fall from this height would break bones. I kept my eyes off the freezing tide sliding into the black pockets to keep my balance steady.

I stopped a step behind her and dropped my hoodie over her shoulders to cut the chill. Without turning to check who it was, she smoothly slid her arms backward into the sleeves while I guided the heavy fabric down. She braided her arms across her middle and stared down the sharp drop beyond her sneakers, looking tiny against the Pacific now that she was swallowed by the oversized fleece. Her hair blew loose across her cheek under the Jeju stars.

We just stood there while the wind and the tide crashed below us, until her breathing finally slowed down.

"You're hovering," she murmured, barely loud enough to clear the surf. She threw a familiar dry glare at the Pacific under her feet.

"I'm making sure you don't fall off a cliff."

She stared straight out at the drop. "You wouldn't even see me hit. The ocean is pitch black, idiot."

"Wasn't looking at the water."

She let out a short breath that caught somewhere near a laugh, dropping her chin into the collar of the hoodie. "That was terrible."

"Worked, though."

Her cheek shifted. She was hiding a smile.

The way she stood now, with her chin tucked, arms crossed tight, dragged me back to all the post-evaluation nights in the mirror-lined JYP studio. Years ago, sure. But Yeji never stood still without a fight.

I stepped up right beside her on the uneven rock. The starlight caught a silver edge along her damp lashes.

"You okay?" I asked quietly.

Her shoulders dropped. "No." She turned her attention back to the black water. "But I want to be."

That worked for me.

I dropped my hand, letting my knuckles rest lightly against the back of hers to press my warm skin over her freezing joints. It was small enough for her to brush off as an accident. Her fingers twitched against mine. I braced for her to pull away, but instead, her hand turned under mine. Her palm opened upward, and our fingers slid together, catching perfectly like we'd been doing this for years instead of just since the day before on the beach.

That grip dragged me straight back to the basement studios from our first summer. Dead AC, squeaking sneakers on scuffed laminate, and Yeji hating early partner drills with her whole face. She despised holding hands with anyone. She claimed it ruined her timing, snapping at me that my hold was too loose, then too tight, then just generally annoying. But before long, she could grab my hand blind on cue while staring dead ahead into the mirror.

She squeezed my fingers once.

I dragged my thumb slowly over the sharp ridge of her knuckle in response.

"Remember the blue room?" I asked her.

Her eyes stayed anchored on the violent surf, but the tense line of her mouth softened up. "The one with the blown-out speaker?"

"And the aircon making that awful dying sound in the corner."

"You swore it was humming in B-flat."

"It definitely was."

"It was a C, you deaf bastard."

"It was B-flat," I said. "You were just mad I could hear it."

She let out a small scoffing breath, shaking her head. "You were miserable in there."

"You kept bitching at me to fix the speaker."

"You were the only one tall enough to reach the plug!"

"Being tall didn't make me your personal fucking handyman, Yeji."

"You tried anyway."

"I was trying to impress you so you'd stop yelling at me."

She finally looked at me, her sharp jaw cutting across the sky.

"You were?"

The stiff line of her mouth just vanished. "You were scary. Of course I was trying to impress you."

"I was focused," she argued, squaring her shoulders. "Not scary."

"You made that poor trainee cry because she missed the pre-chorus."

"She missed it six fucking times in a row, Minho."

"Scary."

"She needed the timing!"

"See?"

She laughed brightly, the sound whipping away into the wind.

The laugh faded into the rush of the ocean below us. Yeji looked back up at the sky, phone forgotten in her pocket, my hoodie hanging off one shoulder where the wind kept attacking it.

"You were supposed to be there," she said.

For one dumb second, my brain stayed in the blue room.

"In the studio?"

"No." Her fingers tightened around mine. "After. All of it. Debut showcase, first music show win, rookie awards, first tour. Rows six and seven at showcase. Back wall during music shows. Camera pits. The wings at award shows. Hotels. Airports. All the places you had no reason to be."

The surf hit the black rock below us hard enough to spray cold mist through the cracks. She watched the water fall back into the dark and kept her jaw locked.

"I looked for you every time," she said. "So pathetic, right? I would finish a stage, smile at the camera, bow to the staff, do all the shit I was supposed to do, and then my eyes would go searching before I could stop myself. Not him. Not him. Not him."

I couldn't move even if I'd wanted to. She had her hand locked around mine so hard my knuckles had gone pale.

"Yeji -"

"Don't." She lifted our joined hands ever so slightly, and the apology my mouth had started reaching for died right there. "If you say sorry, then I have to say it wasn't your fault. And it wasn't. So then where does it go?"

I looked down at our hands and had no answer worth giving her.

"I don't know," I said.

"Exactly." She swallowed and turned her face back to the sky. "You didn't do anything wrong. I didn't do anything wrong. You left before it killed you. I stayed because you sat on that floor with me until I could. Then I debuted, and everyone kept telling me I won."

Her thumb dragged once across my knuckle, then stopped.

"I did win," she continued. "I worked for it. My members earned it. I know that. But you were there first, before people said I was the leader, before stages, before anyone called me 'JYP's secret weapon' or whatever and meant it in public. You saw me on the floor with a D grade and talked to me like the paper was unqualified. Not me."

The old practice room came back too fast: scuffed linoleum, fluorescent glare, the red letter crushed in her fist, her shoulders shaking under my palm.

"You were never unqualified," I stated simply.

"I know that now." She wiped under one eye with the sleeve of my hoodie, hard enough to leave the skin flushed. "I didn't know it then. I thought every mistake was proof. Then you came in and acted like failing one evaluation was the dumbest reason in the world to quit, and I hated how easy you made it sound. I wanted to shove every win in your face after that - turn around and go, look. See? You were right. I did it. I fucking did it."

"You did," I said. "But don't give me too much credit. I said one true thing on a shitty floor. You built the rest."

"But you weren't there."

"No -"

"And I hated you for it," she talked over me, still looking away. "Then I missed you, and I hated that more. Then I fucked you again and told myself that solved the problem because sex has rules. You come over. Or I come over. We fuck. You leave. Easy."

She finally turned her head toward me.

"It was never easy. Obviously. Keep up."

That almost broke a laugh out of me. I held it in because she was still standing open in front of me, and I wasn't going to make her close back up just because the truth scared me.

She looked back at the sky, her grip on my hand loosening slightly.

"You know, I used to go to the JYP roof after you quit," she said softly, almost wistfully. "Above the old practice building, before we moved to the new one. Remember the door by the vending machines? The lock was broken for months. The machine made the whole stairwell blue, and I would sit by the rail after practice staring up until my neck hurt. I couldn't even see stars through the Seoul smog most nights, but just looking up at how massive and empty the sky was... it helped. It made whatever mistake I made in rehearsal feel incredibly small."

The wind pushed her dark hair across her face.

"Lia wasn't lying the other day," she murmured. "Zero light pollution. I always wanted to see what it looked like with you."

"You never told me about the roof," I said quietly.

She slowly lowered her chin to look at me, her dark eyes staring into mine. "You weren't there to tell."

Yeah, I'd earned that one.

"I - I didn't leave you," I mumbled.

She hooked her fingers into the front of my hoodie and pulled it tighter across her chest.

"I left JYP," I said. "The company. The trainee lists. The rooms with no windows. Trainers counting mistakes like they were collecting proof we didn't belong there. By the end, I hated dance. Music too. Mirrors. My own face in practice footage. I couldn't stay in it anymore."

"I know." She pressed the hoodie sleeve under her eye again, slower this time. "I knew then. You had that look. One more trainer said your name and you were going straight through the studio glass. I knew why you left."

She folded both hands around mine, trapping my fingers between her palms.

"It still felt the same."

I closed my other hand over hers.

"I think about it too," I said.

Her shoulders hitched once under the hoodie.

"The what-ifs?"

"Yeah. Bad dorm coffee. You yelling at me in stage makeup. Me pretending I wasn't staring at you in every practice clip." I watched her mouth tremble, then steady. "I thought about you on stage before you even debuted. After I quit, I couldn't listen to music for a while without feeling sick. Then your DALLA DALLA teaser dropped, and I watched it at two in the morning on my laptop with the volume low so my roommate wouldn't wake up."

She stared at me.

"Of course I watched," I said before she could ask. "I watched everything. At first because I missed you. Then because you were impossible not to watch. Then because it was easier to call it supporting an old friend than admit I was waiting for thirty seconds of fancam like a loser with a schedule."

Her mouth pulled sideways through the tears. "You never said."

"Neither did you."

"I was busy becoming famous."

"Yeah," I said, dragging my thumb over her knuckles until her grip loosened enough for blood to come back into my fingers. "You were."

She let the joke die there. For a while, there was only the ocean.

"Sometimes I pictured you in the company van," she said. "Sleeping with your mouth open, neck bent all wrong, complaining about my hairspray, stealing my heat pack. I pictured you backstage too. At awards, music shows - I pictured you beside me so many times that when it wasn't real, it pissed me off."

Below us, the waves kept time against the black rock, like it was counting down a future that had already passed.

"Do you think it would've been better?" she asked after a while.

I looked past her shoulder at the bonfire, far enough away now to be a small orange blur against the beach.

"No," I said.

Her brows drew together.

"I wanted it," I said, before she could argue. "I still want it. I... I see those backstage clips and it makes me sick how much I want to be the guy stealing your shrimp chips in the van. Or holding your jacket. Just the stupid, boring shit, you know? But if I hadn't quit, I would've dragged you down. You would've made it your project to fix my head, and I would've hated you for handling everything better than me. We would've wrecked each other."

She pulled one hand free and held it against her cheek.

"You don't know that."

I shifted closer, turning my shoulder into the wind to block a little of it from hitting her face. "I know what I was like when I left. Jealous of everyone still standing in those rooms. Even you. Especially you. You could take the hit and come back meaner. I took the hit and started flinching before anyone raised a hand."

"You were eighteen," she said.

"So were you."

"I was insane."

"Yeah." I squeezed her hand before she could turn that into a joke. "You were insane. Brilliant. You scared the shit out of me."

Her eyes stayed on mine.

"You already said that."

"I know."

She looked back up at the stars. The fight slowly went out of her shoulders.

"I don't want to keep checking rooms," she said. "I don't want to... every time we go somewhere new, I hate that my first instinct is still to look up. I get mad at myself every single time, because obviously you aren't going to be sitting in the third row of some random stadium, but I look anyway. And then I get pissed off that you aren't there."

She turned her face toward me again. The tears were drying cold against her cheeks, and this time, she let them stay.

"I want to be here," she murmured. "And know you're here."

Five years gone. The life we didn't get, gone too. But her hand was warm in mine, and the rock under us was solid.

I lifted our joined hands higher, near her neck, and used a slow pull to turn her around until she faced me.

Her eyes dropped to our hands. "Here?"

"Here."

"On a pile of cursed lava blocks."

"I've seen you dance on worse."

"It's a cliff edge, Minho."

"Scared?"

Her gaze snapped back up to my face, her dark eyes narrowing under the starlight.

"I'm going to make you look like an idiot," she warned.

"You always do."

She stepped in first, finding a flat face of basalt under one sneaker while my body slid right into place. My free hand swung up to catch her narrow waist. Hers found my shoulder, resting lightly at first before pressing down the second my stance locked. We stayed still chest to chest under the stars for one long breath. Her fingers tightened hard into my shoulder, pressing right over my pulse.

I took a step forward, but her muscles were already locked down hard to drive the motion on a strict downbeat.

The most powerful hip hop dancer in Seoul didn't know how to yield a count.

So I held my ground, keeping my hand steady against her waist while I waited. She stayed rigid against my hold, her breath trapped in her throat while her body fought the violent instinct to take the choreography over. Then her shoulders dropped. Her ribs softened under my hand.

That was when I knew I wasn't holding idol Yeji anymore.

She exhaled hard, let herself settle into my grasp, and allowed me to pull her into the next step.

Her eyes flicked up to my face.

"Better," I told her.

"Keep your fucking dance critiques to yourself," she muttered, though she stayed still against my chest.

"I just praised your adjustment."

"You corrected my texture."

"Your texture corrected itself."

"Still annoying."

Her fingers were tapping a silent, desperate count against the back of my shoulder.

"You're in your head, Yeji," I shot back. "After you spent months fucking that exact habit out of me so I'd learn to feel the beat and stop counting."

Her mouth fell open in the dark because I had her pinned.

I grinned down at her.

She rolled her eyes hard, but the tapping stopped.

I yielded the lead, letting my hand drag loose across her waist while our joined fingers cut a slow arc through the freezing night air. The stars smeared white across my vision as she pulled me through the turn, the whole sky tilting over her shoulder for one dizzying swing before the black Pacific snapped back behind her.

She took the space instantly, pushing off my palm to spin outward into the cold wind with her back snapping straight. The oversized hoodie flared open against the black backdrop of the Pacific, leaving her suspended on one leg with her dominant arm stretched back taut into my grip.

I yanked my arm hard and dragged her back toward the jagged rock.

She refused to soften the catch, hitting my chest on the count with a breathless gasp and giving me every bit of the step.

I crossed my arms instantly over her waist, locking her bare hands secure against her stomach before we could tumble backward toward the drop.

***

The first time we'd practiced lifts, she'd kept landing wrong on a swollen ankle she swore was fine, throwing herself backward exactly like this and banking on my arms snapping shut before she hit the floor. I'd locked my grip around her then, staring at her exhausted reflection in the studio mirror.

By the time they put cameras in her face, she'd already mastered hiding it without the mirrors.

She was eighteen when they put her on The Fan, two months shy of her debut and three since I'd quit, watching exactly 197 votes flash on the board - which meant three people didn't, shoving her straight onto the chopping block. Three weeks later, her back seized up so bad during rehearsal she had to go to the hospital. Straight out of the ER, she shot "New Rules" and danced like her spine wasn't locked down tight. The tears didn't drop until 224 flashed on the screen to say she survived, and even then, she smiled right through them to thank the whole country for forgiving her mistakes. I watched that broadcast and realized the girl who used to curse at her own swollen ankles in the JYPE building was gone. She'd figured out the job.

Hurt on your own time. Win first.

***

She nudged her head back against my shoulder in the dark, breathing slowly against my collarbone until she started to sing.

"Thinkin' about ya, my hand in a fist," she sang softly, her fingers tightening around mine on the last word.

I locked my grip tight around her waist. From every track in an industry built to say 'don't need you,' she sang the one that begged to be held. The low, warm catch of her voice hit my throat before she even pushed the words into the cold air. I knew exactly where that breath started. I'd spent hours in a sealed practice room trying to teach her how to drop air deep into her lungs when she was eighteen, blown out, and ready to quit. I taught her how to pull that breath, and then walked away before I got to hear what she did with it.

"A night I suffered alone."

She sang the next line right into my shirt, leaving me nowhere to put my hands except tighter around her back. I'd heard that track blaring out of arena speakers for years, but none of it sounded like this.

I rotated her inside my arms to face me under the moonlight. Her voice bent when our chests slammed together, then steadied as my hand slid down her waist to brace her lower back.

"You are here," she hummed softly.

"Here by my side," I came in under her, rough and late.

She twitched her mouth into a smile before dragging in air for the next line. Of course she heard me.

"Hold me tight, hold me tight."

I pressed my palm harder into her back. "You know I'm holding up when I see you."

She steadied herself against my shoulder as we tracked every step over the uneven basalt, shoes catching on slick edges where the columns broke toward the water. Her knee brushed against mine, pulled away, and brushed back again.

I backed us blindly toward the drop, watching a spray of loose gravel slip under my heel. Her eyes flicked from my face to the sheer edge. The old Yeji would have slammed her feet wider and taken over the step to keep us safe.

She let herself fall toward me instead.

"You and I, we ain't falling," she sang, stepping back and giving our joined hands a sharp downward pull.

"We'll go through it together," I replied.

She followed the cue instantly. Hip hop dancers fall into freezes by controlling their own descent and their own timing, but tonight, she broke that rule. Her spine went completely slack across my forearm to hand me the count. One hand locked tight in mine, and the other fell loose until her fingertips grazed the air above the dark water.

"Talkin' about ya, talkin' about us."

I dug my palm harder into her spine, sinking into my stance as she arched violently backward over my forearm. The oversized hoodie slid off one bare shoulder, leaving her suspended in a breathless backbend. Her throat bared to the cold wind, the rigid line of her flat stomach snapping tight the second she stopped trying to catch herself.

"You and I got the same feeling," I sang back.

She hitched a breathless laugh into the cold air, hanging reckless in my arms.

I shoved my sneakers down into the ground, locking my arm tighter around her back. The coastal wind tore at her dangling hair, dragging the loose neck of the hoodie down far enough to expose the athletic line of her collarbone.

She looked up at me from her lopsided pose in the dark, flashing the same fierce trust from those late-night practice rooms before her debut.

I dragged her back up, pulling her slowly with everything I had.

She rose in a smooth arc with her hair swinging forward, breaking on the tiniest laugh when her face snapped level with mine before grabbing hard onto the back of my neck.

I caught her bare jaw on pure reflex, my thumb sliding under the sharp ridge of her cheekbone.

"Hold me, you're doing well," she breathed.

"Hold me, please trust me," I answered against her mouth.

She gasped out a startled laugh that cracked the silence as my lungs emptied out.

I locked both hands around her waist, dug my heels in, and hoisted her clear off the stone, leaving her suspended over the edge of the Pacific while I stared up at her with the freezing surf roaring against the jagged rock somewhere way down in the dark.

She scrambled for my shoulders for a split second, but the moment she looked down into the black drop, a shaky breath broke out of her and she completely unspooled. Every rigid muscle went slack against my palms as she let go, pulling her hands away to spread her arms wide into the coastal wind instead of bracing for a fall. Her spine arched in a reckless curve over the ocean, leaving my hands the only thing keeping her from the drop.

I pushed my thumbs deep into her waist, holding her through the wind until her shaking ribs settled under my grip.

She pulled her chin back down, looking at me through the loose hair whipping across her face as she pushed the final outro into the night.

"We ain't falling like a domino."

I lowered her slowly, letting her slide down the length of my chest until the soles of her shoes hit the rock.

She stayed pressed against me, burying her face into my shoulder while the last notes hummed against my bare neck.

"Like a domino, domino."

I wrapped her up in the dark, hands gripping fistfuls of her oversized hoodie while her lungs fought for air against my chest.

"You knew the lower harmony," she mumbled into my shoulder, her voice still rough from the cold. "You caught the bridge exactly on the downbeat."

"I have good rhythm."

Her grip tightened in my shirt. "That's a tour-only B-side, Minho. And it came out three years after you quit."

"The Hulu Theater," I said quietly, pressing my palm flat against her lower back. "Madison Square Garden. November 2022. I had a work trip, remember? Took the red-eye out of L.A. and stood in the very back row."

PHOTO CREDITS: yours truly (November 13, 2022, Madison Square Garden, back row)

She went completely still against me, the brutal realization of that flight and that ticket clicking into place.

"You were in New York," she whispered.

"Always there somehow," I said, sliding my hand around the back of her neck and tangling my warm fingers into her freezing hair. "I never miss a stage."

Yeji sucked in a sharp gasp against my shoulder.

Then the world dragged us back. A massive wave shattered below, and someone, probably Yunjin, yelled from far down the beach by the bonfire. Yuna shouted something equally loud in response, followed by Chaeryeong screaming and Karina's boisterous laughter tearing up the beach.

Then Yeji exhaled a long, shuddering breath into my collarbone.

"My ass is going numb," she groaned.

A sharp, wrecked laugh tore out of my throat before I could stop myself. Yeji's shoulders started shaking against my chest, her forehead digging into my muscle as she failed to swallow down her own ridiculous giggling. We were standing on the edge of a deadly cliff drop, laughing pointlessly into each other's necks like idiots in the dark.

"So romantic," I choked out.

"It really is. Lava rock is terrible."

"I'll bring a blanket next time."

Next time.

She went quiet, and my laugh died before it could finish.

She pulled her face up from my shoulder. Tears caught the starlight in her eyes and made her look startlingly young.

"Yeah," she finally whispered, her fingers tightening at my shirt. "Next time."

I dragged my thumb under her eye and swiped the moisture away before it could slip down her cheek, letting her lean deeper into my hand.

"You weren't scared," I said quietly. "When I had you hanging over the ocean."

"Of course I was scared," she muttered.

"Didn't feel like it."

Her grip tightened at the back of my shirt. "Because you don't drop me."

The whole song-and-dance still burned through my muscles, from the heat to the tight grip to the last murmur of her singing against my skin, folding all that lost time down to the single fact that she was standing right in front of me.

"You actually sang for me," I said quietly.

Her mouth gave a weak, broken twitch. "I get paid to sing, asshole."

"You sang for me tonight."

She turned her head slowly, looking intently out toward the endless stretch of stars.

"You walked me back to it," she whispered. "I forgot how to share a count."

***

Somehow we ended up on the flattest shelf of basalt I could find, because Yeji was shivering through my hoodie and I sure as hell wasn't letting her freeze her ass off on a jagged pile of rock.

I sat first, planted wide, and tugged her down between my knees before she could argue.

She hit my lap with a startled yelp as my arms clamped around her waist. Grabbing my forearms, she adjusted her thighs and leaned back against my chest, tucking her bare legs between my denim.

The Pacific pounded the shoreline below in a slow, heavy rhythm. After a minute, her shoulders stopped jumping under my hands.

"It's almost too much," she murmured into the cold air.

I rested my chin near the crown of her head. "What is?"

"All those stars." She kept her hands still over mine.

I followed her gaze up. Without the Seoul smog bleeding out the sky, the galaxy stretching over us looked massive.

"Yeah," I said quietly. "Makes you feel small."

She let out a slow breath. "Small... but not alone."

I pulled my arms tighter around her waist, letting the heavy crash of the shoreline fill the dark for a minute.

"Karina whispered something to me," she said, dropping lower against my chest. "That first night at her villa."

I dragged my thumb over her knuckle. "After she hugged you?"

Her head turned slightly. "You saw that?"

"I saw her lean in. I saw you nod." I pressed my jaw against her hood. "Never heard the words."

Her hand closed harder over my forearm.

"She said, 'Without the courage to fall.'" Yeji looked back up at the stars. "'You already know, Yeji-yah - you sang it yourself.'"

The surf hit the rock below us.

"'You can never fly,'" I murmured, pressing my jaw against her head. "Best line in Bet On Me. Can't believe Karina gets your own lyrics better than you do."

Her elbow knocked lightly into my ribs. "Show-off."

Her pinky found mine and hooked around it, small and stubborn.

"I think..." She swallowed hard. "I thought if I just... opened my hand, there'd be nothing there."

I looked down at our fingers.

She squeezed once.

"But there is."

My grip tightened around her waist.

"If I had debuted..." I said under the sound of the surf. "Would we even have this?"

She finally broke her gaze away from the sky, shifting her head to look at me. "This?"

"Us. Like this." I looked down at our hands. "Maybe we would've eaten each other alive trying to survive it."

She dragged her thumb over the back of my hand. "Maybe that version of us would've been worse."

"So what do we do now?"

Her fingers tightened around mine. "We stop trying to rewrite the stars. We just... look at them."

I squeezed her fingers back in the quiet, pressing my jaw against her cool hair.

"You became Hwang Yeji because I quit," I told her to the dark. "Like I said. If I'd stayed, you would've kept focusing on fixing my head. I left, and you had to build everything yourself."

Her back went rigid against me.

"You want to know a secret?" she asked.

"Always."

"That night in the practice room. When I was falling apart, and you sat on the floor with me and told me I belonged there." She swallowed hard. "I became an idol because you made me believe I could."

I went quiet.

"Every stage I stood on," she whispered out into the ocean. "Every award I took. Every time I led the group when things went to shit... I was channeling the person you saw in me that night."

I closed my eyes, pressing my face into her hair.

"So yeah," she finished, a wet, quiet laugh slipping out. "You left. But you also gave me everything."

For once, I didn't know what to hate myself for. I buried my face into the side of her neck, pulling her flush against my chest until she let out a long, shuddering sigh.

Her body heat warmed my skin right through the fleece. The waves kept hitting the rock below us. Her hand stayed locked in mine.

We watched the stars.

I loosened my grip slightly so she could breathe.

"So why were you actually standing on a cliff edge taking shitty pictures in the dark?" I asked.

Her mouth curved into a smile against my collarbone. "I told you. I needed a photo for Bubble."

"You have six thousand photos of yourself on your phone right now."

"Of stars, idiot. A starlight shot." She twisted against my chest, retrieving the cold metal of her phone from her back pocket. "I've been dead silent online since we got to Jeju. Since you took those sunset pictures of me looking..."

"Like a liability?"

"Exactly." She sighed, staring down at the black screen. "I needed a cover story. A peace offering for the fans to cover my tracks. But my hands kept shaking the lens out of focus."

Her bare fingers trembled against the phone casing. I slid my arm around her side and offered my palm.

"Let me?"

She handed the phone over immediately.

I brought the screen up, framing the brightest cluster of the Milky Way directly over our heads. The camera static cleared instantly. I locked my elbows, leveling the shot perfectly still.

Her hand came up. Her freezing fingers slid over the back of mine, letting our knuckles overlap as we held the frame together.

"Ready?" I murmured.

"Yeah."

She dragged her thumb over mine, hitting the shutter.

The screen flashed once, burning a crisp, sharp image of the Jeju stars into the camera roll.

Yeji let out a long, shuddering exhale. Dragging her hand down, she hooked her pinky blindly into mine and rested her head back onto my shoulder. The phone slipped onto my denim. I wrapped both arms securely around her, burying my face against the fleece of her hood as we stared up into the dark.

The digital glow of the locked screen faded to black against my jeans.

***

[NARRATOR]

Two silhouettes sat tangled together on a flat shelf of dark volcanic rock. The Pacific stretched out before them, an endless expanse of black water and silver break crashing against the basalt in a mindless rhythm. Behind them, far up the sand, the bonfire had already died down to an tiny orange pinprick.

And above them: stars beyond counting.

The Milky Way swept across the black sky, a massive stretch of burning gas and dead space. The galaxy turned in the dark, holding no stake in the shoreline below or the five stolen years surviving on one ledge of stone.

Millions of fans spent their lives looking up at the girl on the Jeju rock, their own devotion illuminated by her heat.

But the sky offered no such promises, leaving the real stars to shine in the freezing vacuum of space regardless of who was watching.

All that empty space rendered the moment ephemeral.

Jeju had always been a place of exile - a stray sliver of volcanic rock separated from the real world by a small stretch of sea. The mainland's rules didn't apply out here. All the island offered was a brief suspension of time, leaving the cameras and the crushing pressure of Seoul across the water until nothing remained but the truth.

Caught between the black ocean dropping below and the silent universe expanding above, the only warmth in the coastal wind came from the embers they'd learned to keep alive in each other.

And the only meaning at the edge of the world was whatever they chose to hold in their hands.

So the stars just kept shining.

And so would they.

Intro | Masterlist | Series Index Previous Chapter

――――――――――――――――――

MINHO, YEJI, YUNA, AND KARINA WILL RETURN IN THE EPILOGUE

— — —

After your disaster of a performance in that tune up exhibition match, you thought a warm shower might help in clearing your head.

Well, you’re wrong.

The scenes from this morning still played through your head, over and over again. Even while sitting on the locker room bench, getting dressed while trying to clear your brain. Suddenly, you see your phone light up in your bag. You check to see what the notification is but get shocked by what the text bubble says:

It's Yeji. We need to talk about this morning. Can you meet me at the cafe after 5?

If you were being honest with yourself, you’re conflicted. Most of what your brain is telling you to do is to just pretend the morning never happened. It made sense. Whatever lies underneath the events of this morning feels like a pandora’s box that should not be opened. 

However, there was this little voice inside your head. It was arguing against forgetting. It was telling you the truth: that you’re curious. Actually, more than just curious. The reason you kept replaying the events in your head? It’s because you’re desperate for answers. Desperate to know why she kissed you when you thought she hated you.

Take a guess which voice won you over.

I’m on my way there.

— — —

You arrive at the cafe at 4:45. Considering you have fifteen minutes to spare, you decide to order a cold brew. Though that time allowance passes by in an instant as you wait nervously. The stress has you sweating bullets, even finishing your drink quicker than you should have. You decide to order another one just as the clock strikes 5. That’s when you see Yeji enter the cafe. 

Your heart drops when you see her. Aside from the confusion, you have another sudden realization:

Was she with Ryujin before all this?

She said they had a group schedule. Would Yeji have said something to her? What would Ryujin’s reaction be? Would she get jealous? Mad?

While you’re in a state of panic, your gaze meets Yeji’s. It shakes you out of your panic, allowing you to point towards your table, to which she goes to and sits at. When you get your drink, you go back to the table and sit across from her.

“Hey.” you open.

“Hi.” Yeji responds.

“I didn’t know what to get you.”

“It’s fine, I'm not really thirsty anyway.”

“Alright.”

As quick as the conversation went, that’s also how quick the awkward silence took over. You decide to break it anyway.

“Uh, how did you get my number? Did you get it from Ryujin or…”

“From one of our managers. She had it just in case she couldn’t reach Ryujin while she’s with you.”

“Makes sense.” you pause. “So you didn’t talk to Ryujin?”

“No.”

“So you didn’t tell her?”

“No.”

Once again, the awkward silence takes over. You both sit there quietly, unsure of what to say, until the nagging feeling comes back to you and causes you to burst.

“Seriously, Yeji. What was that this morning?”

“I– I don’t know.”

“You don’t know why you kissed me? I thought you hated me?”

“I don’t hate you Jamie.” Yeji begins to explain. “I never did. I know I’ve been cold. I know I looked like I was uninterested. But I swear, I never was. When Ryujin first introduced you to us, the second I saw you, I started feeling something I couldn’t understand. The specific feeling I’ve only ever had for guys. I was confused, scared, and unsure of what was happening to me.”

“You were always so nice. So welcoming.” Yeji continues to rattle. “That just kept making it harder for me to understand what I was feeling. I thought that by being cold, that by pushing you away the feelings would disappear. I thought it was working. But then this morning… when you erupted at me. When you made me realize what I was doing and how I was coming off as. When you brought your face close to mine… I just lost control and—” she pauses as she tries to stop herself from crying. You offer her a napkin to wipe her tears.

“Thanks.” she says as she takes the napkin and wipes her tears. “Basically, I never hated you, Jamie. I’ve just been—”

“Confused.” you finish her thought for her. It starts to make sense. You feel like a fool for not seeing it. “It’s fine, Yeji. I understand.”

“You… You do?”

“Yeah. I went to an all-girls high school back at home.” you explain, “You wouldn’t believe the number of times I’ve had to play arbiter between friends when one of them starts developing feelings for the other. One friend icing the other out from confusion. The other one getting worried that they did something wrong. I should’ve picked up the signs, though it’s my first time being on the receiving end of it.”

On instinct, you hold Yeji’s hand in assurance.

“I know it can get confusing when it’s your first time to develop feelings for another girl. But trust me when I tell you that it’s completely valid. There’s nothing wrong with that. It’s normal. Okay?”

“Okay.” She says as flashes her dragon-like grin from your assuring words.

“So… back to Ryujin.”

“You have nothing to worry about. I didn’t tell her.”

Yeji’s words give you a sense of relief. But her next warning gets you back on your toes.

“You do plan on telling her, right?”

“Yeah… at least, I think so?”

“Don’t tell me you’re scared of her?” This new tone from Yeji was… something. A far cry from the ice-cold mask she wore around you in the past. Now? She feels warmer. Friendlier. What you expected to feel when you first met her.

“I’m not. It’s just…”

“Jamie.” Yeji says as she holds your hands now. “You’re in an open relationship with Ryujin. She won’t get mad that we kissed. But she will get mad if you keep it a secret for too long.”

Yeji has a point. When Ryujin’s with her other partners, she, at the very least, lets you know. She stays honest with you. Now, you should do the same.

“I’m not going to tell her, Jamie.” Yeji promises, “only because it’s not my story to tell. I’m telling you now, you have to tell her. Okay?”

“Alright.” That's all you can say in reply.

Yeji knows Ryujin. Hell, you know Ryujin. She won’t get mad at you.

Right?

— — —

Tonight, you’re back in your apartment. Not as spacious as Ryujin’s place, but enough for two people. You invited Ryujin over for dinner, which is burgers from her favorite fast food joint, hopefully to confess to her about what happened that morning.

You’re sitting on your couch, going through what you plan to say in your head when you hear the door open.

“Hey!” Ryujin shouts as she enters your apartment.

“Hey.” you say as you stand up and meet her, giving her a quick kiss before helping her with her bag. “Food’s on the table.” you direct her towards the dining table, to which she rushes to. You set her bag on the couch before joining her at the table, heart pounding like a jackhammer with your secret in tow.

Ryujin sits there, happily scarfing down her burger while you continue to debate with yourself internally if this was a good idea. 

“Hey, so uh… this morning…”

“Mhmm?” she replies with a mouth full of food when she raises her gaze towards you. 

“Yeji passed by your place. Dropped off a package that got sent to your dorms.”

“That’s sweet of her.” She’s able to say in a rare moment where her mouth wasn’t full of food.

“Yeah, well I told her she’s welcome to have coffee since she said that she had some free time before the group schedule.”

“Mhmm?”

“But then she got cold again. Lied about having to leave. And I kinda lost my temper and erupted at her and confronted her and…” you were about to start babbling, but then suddenly, there was an inner voice that decided that it was better to rip the ban-aid off. 

“Yeji kissed me this morning.”

Band aid ripped off. You just blurt it out. Get it over with and deal with the consequences. Which, after a few silent seconds, Ryujin lets you know that there won’t be.

“See! I told you she didn’t hate you!” She says as she chuckles

“What?” You ask, confused.

“I mean, I did tell you. Right?”

You breathe a sigh of relief. She’s not mad. Yeji was right. But that calm wave of relief slowly dissipates. In its place, your insecurity and anxiety start to grow again.

“You’re not mad?” You ask.

“Nah, it was just a kiss. Right?”, she replies, “Plus, like I said. I told you she doesn’t hate you!”

Ryujin laughs at her joke, even gets a chuckle from you. Inside, though? Your insecurity continues to grow. It manifests itself in a question:

“Really? That’s your main takeaway? That’s the first thing you’re thinking of right now?” you ask in disbelief.

“I mean, you spent a whole day complaining about her.” She scoffs, “You can’t really blame me if it's the first thing on my mind.”

“Not even a hint of jealousy? Really?” the question basically exposes your true feelings, but Ryujin doesn’t seem to pick up on it. 

“Jealousy? Why would I be jealous? We’re open, Jamie. Did you forget?”

“How could I forget with all the girls and guys you meet up with behind my back?” you mutter under your breath. 

“What was that? I thought you were okay with an open set up?”

“I was never okay with it in the first place!”

“Then why’d you agree, huh? I told you up front what I already had set up, Jamie! If you weren’t comfortable with the idea, you shouldn’t have agreed to it in the first place!”

“IT’S BECAUSE OF YOU, RYUJIN!” You explode as you’re unable to control your emotions. “Telling me straight away that you already have an open set-up wasn’t a heads up. It was an ultimatum! I thought I could bear it. The jealousy, the insecurity of you having multiple partners because I was one of them. I thought I could bear it because I had you. Because I was with you. Because of you.” Your voice softens as you get the last part out.

“So what are you saying?” Ryujin starts probing. “Why can’t you handle it anymore, Jamie?”

You stay silent.

“Are you saying that I’m not worth it anymore?” There’s aggression in her voice, but also concern. Insecurity. She’s worried about losing you. Genuinely worried.

You want to reply. You really do. But you have no idea what to say, because you’re not sure what your true feelings are. Not anymore.

“Jamie?”

“I–” words finally start to materialize, “I have to go.” just not the words that Ryujin wanted to hear.

“You’re not going anywhere.” Ryujin says. “This is your apartment, you have nowhere else to go.” She says as she approaches you.

“Don’t!” you shout at her that makes her stop in her tracks. “Just… don’t follow me.” You say as you leave your apartment.

— — —

Ryujin had a point. It was your apartment. You had nowhere else to go. So why on fucking earth did you leave it?

As you sit in a convenience store, sipping on coffee as the rain outside continues to pour, you come to a sensible conclusion:

You’re overly dramatic.

“Not even a single text…” you mutter to yourself as you keep refreshing your chat with Ryujin.

You shouldn’t be too surprised. She barely texts you on a regular basis. But to go silent after a fight? Not even just to check on you? Fuck. 

Back to your current problem, you literally have nowhere to go. All of your teammates were bunked up in the team’s dorms, leaving no extra space for you. You didn’t really know anyone aside from them, Ryujin and the rest of Itzy, so your choices are limited. You go through your contacts, debating who you could turn to for this problem when your gaze gravitates to your newest contact.

Yeji.

You’re crazy to think that this would be a good idea. You just became friends after months of thinking that she hated you. Asking if you could stay the night a few hours later seems like a tall order. But then you take a look around in the convenience store you’re cooped up in. On one end of the bar was an old man that was half asleep, yet somehow burping at the same time. On one of the outside tables was a guy wearing a tinfoil hat talking to himself. At this point, anywhere is better than here. You’re about to text Yeji when a text notification pops up.

Speak of the devil…

“Hey. It’s Yeji. Did you tell Ryujin?”

“Hey. Don’t worry, I have your number saved already. Yes I did.”

“Did she get mad?”

“No.”

“See! I told you!”

“Yeah… Well I did. And I stormed out of my own apartment to prove a point.”

“...”

“Look I know we just became friends, but is there any way I could crash on your couch for the night?”

“I’m actually at my sister’s.”

“Oh.”

“Just house sitting while they’re on vacation. I don’t think they would mind.”

“Are you sure? I’d hate to get you in trouble with your family.”

“It’s fine! I swear! Here’s the address!”

Yeji sends you her sister’s address in the following text. You decide to take a taxi on the way there, but pick up a box of fried chicken first. It’s the least you can do.

— — —

“Hi.” Yeji says as she leans against the door frame.

“Hey.” you reply, “I thought I should at least bring food or something for you since you’re letting me crash on the couch.”

You hand her the box of fried chicken as she lets you in.

“You didn’t have trouble finding the place?” She asks as she sets the chicken down on the coffee table.

“Not really.” you reply, “It also helped that the rain stopped, getting a taxi was a lot easier.”

“Make yourself comfortable on the couch!” Yeji shouts as she rummages through the refrigerator.

You take her up on her offer, settling on the couch while you open the chicken. Yeji finally finds what she was looking for in the fridge, setting down a few bottles of soju and two shot glasses on the coffee table.

“This alright?” she asks you with the bottle in hand, “Don’t have any early plans tomorrow?”

“Nah.” you reply, “I’m guessing you don’t have any too? Considering you might still be hungover by tomorrow.” you tease her.

“I swear people take that clip too seriously.” Yeji whines as she sits down on the couch, “I am not a lightweight! The soju they were serving that day was just really strong.”

“Excuses excuses.” you continue to tease her as you open a bottle and pour a glass for the both of you.

“Enough about me allegedly being lightweight.” Yeji says after taking her first shot, “How did you go from hoping Ryujin won’t get mad at you to you getting mad at her.”

You down your first shot in one gulp, ironically for some clarity. With the soju in your system, you recount to Yeji what happened in your apartment, the center of it all being how you got mad that Ryujin didn’t get jealous.

“So…” Yeji follows up to your story, “you just left? Your own apartment no less?”

“I’m a bit… dramatic.”

“You don’t say.” Yeji chuckles, “Couldn’t have guessed from how you exploded at me this morning.”

“Sorry about that, by the way.” You manage to say before taking another shot of soju.

“It’s fine, Jamie.” Yeji reassures you, “but back to the matter, why did you want Ryujin to get jealous?”

You take your… fourth? Fifth? Shot before you answer. “I thought… I just thought that maybe… maybe she’d get jealous because I’m special.”

“Special?”

“Different. I mean different from the others.” you clarify, “Don’t get me wrong, I know what I got into. I know she has a whole roster of other people that she meets up with. It’s just… I thought— I hoped that she would at least be bothered if someone made a move on me. Even more so if they kissed me.”

“Ryujin isn’t really the type to get jealous, Jamie.”

“I know, I know. Hell, look at her set up.” you both chuckle, “It’s my baggage. Always has been.”

“It’s not baggage, Jamie.”

“But it is, Yeji.” you stop using the shot glass and start drinking straight from a freshly opened bottle. “Fuck— I’ll never be enough for anyone. Not enough for Ryujin. Not even enough for my parents.”

“Parents? Jamie, come on. You don’t mean that. Where’s that coming from?”

“Pains of being the second child, I guess?” you chuckle to yourself. “Especially following an over-achieving older brother and being followed by a dangerously incompetent younger brother. I spent the better half of my childhood having to compete for attention between those two. Though I always seem to lose out in the end. They’re always too busy either celebrating my older brother’s achievements or cleaning up after my younger brother’s stupid mistakes.”

“That must be rough.” Yeji tries to console you, “but Jamie, why go into an open relationship if you know you have issues with competing for attention?”

“Immersion therapy.” you say non-chalantly, earning a confused look from Yeji. “I thought if I faced it… forced myself to live in this fear of mine, that I’d be able to get over it. Clearly it didn’t work.” you joke, “All it did was fuck me up even more, and let me know that I’ll never be enough for anyone. That no one will ever choose me.”

At this point, most people would be in tears already. Unfortunately for you, you’ve made yourself outgrow that. You hang your head back, letting it sink into the couch cushions. Sitting in silence has become your go-to coping mechanism. Though this is the first time you’ve ever done it with someone else to keep you company.

Silence conquers the living room. Neither of you say a word. You assume Yeji is unsure what to say. After the decades worth of trauma you just dumped on her, you would understand why she’s having a hard time finding words. Though, after a few moments, the words that come out of her mouth surprise you.

“Jamie…” Yeji says, a bit slurred. “What if— hic— What if there is someone who will choose you.”

When you turn to face her, you see that she has already drunk half of a freshly opened bottle of soju, along with her face in the shade of bright crimson. Not lightweight my ass is all you can think.

“Yeji, you’re drunk.”

“No I'm not.”

“Your face is redder than a tomato and you’re slurring your words.”

“Okay! Maybe I'm a little— just a tiny bit tipsy, but I’m telling you Jamie. I’m thinking clearly right now.” When you look at her again, you see that she’s inched closer to you on the couch. “I think I’m thinking clearly… about you.”

“Yeji…” you start backing up to the arm rest, “we can’t. We’re both drunk. You might regret this in the morni—” she stops your thought by putting a finger over your lips. Slowly, her hand moves to your cheek.

“No. I won’t regret it.” Yeji says as she crawls over you. “I’m choosing you, Jamie.” 

You don’t get to reply as she captures your lips in a kiss that outdoes the one from that morning. She crawls further on top of you before straddling your lap. Her other hand joins the one at your face, holding your cheeks as she continues to kiss you. Yeji’s sure of herself this time, and she lets you know through her lips. She’s eager. Confident. Taking the lead for now as you continue to wrestle with your conscience.

You’re still in your head, debating whether or not this is right. But then, her words start to echo through your mind:

“I won’t regret it.”

“I’m choosing you, Jamie.”

Maybe it’s the soju running through your own system, but you suddenly find yourself melting into the kiss. Melting into Yeji.

Your hands move on their own, finding the comfort of the dip of her waist. You fully pull her onto your lap as her hands migrate down and wrap around your shoulders. You start kissing her back, slowly dominating her lips as she starts to surrender to your control. 

Soon, you start leaning forward, with Yeji falling into the space between your legs. You keep pushing forward, asserting control, showing dominance, until you have her pinned on the cushions. As the two of you continue to melt into the kiss, her legs wrap around your waist and her fingers start getting tangled in your hair. Your hands finally sneak under her oversized shirt, feeling her lean stomach in your grasp. When she starts tugging your shirt to pull it over your head, your voice of reason comes back to knock, at the very least, some sense into you again.

“Yeji, wait.” you manage to say as you pull away and sit back.

“Jamie, come on…” Yeji whines, thinking that you’re having doubts again.

“No, it’s not that.” you assure her. “It’s just… I don’t think it’s the best idea to do… this in the living room where your baby nephew plays in.”

You see the alcohol subside in Yeji’s eyes in real time as she realizes it too.

“Oh… Yeah. Good point.” she says as she sits up, “I’m staying in the guest room. On the left down the hall.”

“Alright. I’ll meet you there.” You say before you give her a quick kiss. “I’ll just get some water.”

Yeji forms a soft smile before she walks towards her room. You take a moment as you realize what’s about to happen. Your heart’s thumping harder than it should, desperate to break out of your chest. When you take a swig of water, it helps you sober up a bit. You grab another bottle for her before heading to her room.

You’ve barely opened the door before Yeji’s all over you again. Your arms wrap around her, though you’re unable to get a good grip with the bottles in your hand. She pulls you towards the bed, where you manage a moment to put the water bottles on the nightstand. With your hands free, your hands find her waist again, fingers digging into her oversized shirt. Her arms wrap around your shoulders as you start getting into the kiss again.

As quick as Yeji tries to lead the kiss, she starts surrendering control to you just as fast. It’s the biggest difference you’ve noticed between her and Ryujin.

With Ryujin, she wants you to surrender to her whims, both in and out of the bedroom. She doesn’t leave you a choice. She takes control because she wants to. All you can do is give blind devotion.

With Yeji, it’s different. The way she surrenders herself to you, it’s anchored in a new found trust that she’s discovered with you. You can’t help but make sure that you earn that trust. Make sure that she feels good. Make sure that she’s comfortable.

Yeji suddenly pulls away for a split second, which makes you worry that she’s having doubts. Instead, her words let you know of a different anxiety that she’s been harboring.

“Jamie… wait.” she says as she sits up.

“What’s wrong?”

“It’s… It’s my first time.”

“Your first time?” your eyes widen with doubt. Also maybe some flashes of anxiety if it’s true. 

“With a girl, dummy!” she punches your shoulder from your insinuation which makes you both chuckle, “I’m not a prude, jeez. I’m– I’m just not sure how—”

“Yeji.” you cut her off by placing a hand on her cheek. Slowly, you slide it down to her chin to direct her gaze towards you. “We can stop if you want to. But trust me. I got you, okay?”

Yeji’s gaze pierces into your eyes. Observing— searching for any faults in your sincerity. She finds none, because you meant every word.

“I– I trust you.” Yeji gives you a meek smile before you lean in to give her a soft kiss.

“Just tell me, okay?” you whisper as you pull away from the quick kiss, “If you like the spot, if you don’t. If you want me to go faster or slower. If you want me to stop, I’ll do it at an instant. You just have to let me know, Yeji. Okay?”

She nods before she pulls you in for a fiery kiss. Your hands find the hem of Yeji’s oversized shirt before hers join in. Together, you pull her top off of her, leaving her only in her shorts. You break away from the kiss, taking a moment to admire her figure. She’s a lot leaner than Ryujin. Softer. You’re almost caught in a trance before you remember your goal.

You lean in and give Yeji a quick parting kiss before you start to traverse down her figure. You plant soft and quick kisses as you go down her body. 

Peppering her jawline. 

Pushing deep into her clavicle. 

On the soft mounds of her chest. 

Over her the smooth illusion of her well-toned abs.

You fight the temptation to take your time, desperate to taste her skin and flesh. Alas, you decide to continue on to your current goal.

You come face to face with Yeji’s shorts, the fabric being the last obstacle to your desired destination. You hold on to the garter as she lifts her hips up, allowing you to slide her bottoms down her legs. You put it aside as you sit on your heels, taking in Yeji’s entirely unexposed beauty for the first time tonight. Her cheeks get even redder compared to when she was tipsy, her shyness showing in full force. To reassure her, you give her a soft kiss on her hand that causes her to smile.

You lean back down, coming face to face with Yeji’s exposed core. Her scent is exhilarating, causing the adrenaline to rush throughout your system, begging you to finally taste her. As much as you want to give in, you know it would be best not to rush her first time. Instead, you decide to ease her in slowly, let her get comfortable and enjoy. There’s an itch inside of you to do more than satisfy her, and you know in order to do that you would need to pace yourself. 

To start off, you plant quick soft and exploratory kisses on her thighs. You take your time, feeling her softness on your lips. Sucking on her flesh, making her moan and coo. Tasting her skin as your tongue darts and flattens against her. You jump from either thigh, working your way up from her knees. Each time you inch close, her eyes widen in anticipation. She watches your every move. Each lick. Each kiss. You can feel her breath hitch. What may plainly be edging and teasing for you could be torture for her. So, you move on.

You finally reach your main goal of Yeji’s exposed core, taking a second to appreciate it, looking in awe. Her scent fills your nostrils again, nearly making you go feral. It’s a good thing your self-control is strong. You don’t make contact at first. Nothing at all. You ghost her pink folds with your lips, separated only by microns. Instead, you let the warmth of your breath linger on her skin and flesh. You give her a few passes. Up and down. Left to right. The sensation has her shudder in your grasp. Her head falls back against the mattress in anguish, desperate to feel your touch. It takes only a few more passes before she finally breaks.

“Jamie…” Yeji whispers.

You look up to match her gaze. You can already see it in her eyes, but she says it anyway.

“T—touch me. Please.” 

Who were you to deny her plea?

You flatten her tongue just above her puckered hole. Slowly, you drag it up, separating her folds and getting a taste of her inner walls. You continue dragging your tongue up before your nose brushes her inflamed clit, followed by your tongue lapping at it as well. In that singular lick, a long and dragged out moan rips from Yeji’s throat. She sinks into the plush of the mattress after her body tenses and arches from your first touch. She could tell that somehow one lick from you was enough to get her close. But she isn’t the only one left in awe.

Her taste.

Holy fuck, her taste.