Owling~

Your steps echoed down the halls, still eerily empty and quiet in the morning before the day-long storm. Your eyes drifted from one end to the other, studying the school on your first day.

Everything feels smaller than you imagined. The lockers barely reached your shoulders when they towered over you before. Classroom doors are decorated with names written in marker, letters uneven, proud. Someone has taped up a crooked poster reminding students to use kind words. You wonder, briefly, when it became easier to teach children how to be kind than adults how to listen.

You adjust the strap of your bag and keep walking.

There’s a tightness in your chest you don’t quite want to name. Not regret, not yet. Just the awareness that this is not the version of your life you rehearsed in your head years ago, when your hands were steadier and your ambitions louder.

At the end of the hall, you spot the office.

Glass window.

Low counter. 

Lights already on.

You check your watch. Of course you’re early. You’ve always arrived at places as if being on time might make people believe you belong there.

Standing in the middle of the hall, you took in a breath to prepare yourself with memorizing new faces while the back of your mind wandered around the thought of your first class.

“Mr. Jo, good morning!” 

You turned to the voice that called you down the hall and found an older man approaching.

You bowed your head to greet them, “Principal Jung, good morning to you too.”

Principal Jung smiles the way people do when they’ve been up since dawn and learned to carry it lightly. His tie is already loosened, jacket folded over one arm. He looks like he belongs to this building in a way you don’t yet.

“First day nerves?” he asks, stopping a comfortable distance away.

You let out a small breath that might have been a laugh. “Is it that obvious?”

“Only to someone who remembers their own,” he says. “You’re early.”

You nod. “I didn’t want to get lost.”

He chuckles, glancing down the hall. “You will anyway. Everyone does. This place rearranges itself when you’re not looking.”

Principal Jung gestures toward the office door behind him. “Have you picked up your attendance sheets yet?”

“Not yet,” you admit. “I was just about to.”

“Hmm. Have you met the other teachers since we’ve last seen each other?” he asked.

You shook your head, “I haven’t but I could wait for them inside and introduce myself before classes start.”

Principal Jung shook his hand at you, “No need. Believe it or not, some of them get here earlier than you. Let me introduce you to them.” 

Principal Jung turns on his heel before you can protest, already waving you along like the decision has been made weeks ago.

“Come on,” he says. “They’re probably hiding in the staff room pretending they’re not nervous.”

You follow him down the hall, steps falling into an easy rhythm beside his. The school is waking up now. Lights flick on in classrooms. A door opens somewhere, followed by the scrape of a chair. The quiet is thinning, stretched by the promise of noise to come.

The staff room door is ajar.

Inside, a few teachers are gathered around a table cluttered with paper cups and an open box of pastries. Conversation hums, low and overlapping. Someone laughs. Someone else groans dramatically about photocopiers.

Principal Jung clears his throat.

“Everyone,” he says, not loudly, but with the kind of authority that doesn’t need volume. “I’d like you to meet our new homeroom teacher for Class 3-2. This is Mr. Jo.”

All eyes turn to you.

You straighten instinctively, hands coming to rest at your sides. You bow, just enough. “Good morning. I’m Jo (YN). It’s nice to meet you. Hopefully we can get to each other better throughout the year.”

A chorus of greetings follows mixed in with friendly smiles, affirming nods and someone waving a pastry at you like an offering.

“Welcome to the chaos,” a woman near the window says. “You picked a good class.”

“You’ll survive,” another adds. “Eventually.”

The tension in your chest loosens, just a little. These are normal people. Tired, kind, familiar in their own way.

Slowly, you picked up on their names. Ms. Kim who taught mathematics, Mr. Lee whose expertise was on biology and Ms. Yamada who taught a foreign language class to name a few.

Then beside you, Principal Jung cleared his throat.

“Ah, that reminds me. Remember when I told you that only one person keeps this place together?” He tapped on your sleeve.

You nodded in remembrance. It was one of the few things he’d said that you took lightly, half expecting it to be a message about unity and working together for a better future. You didn’t expect it in the literal sense.

The sea of words and greetings in front of you silenced before the other teachers looked at each other before one of them turned to the back end of the room.

Ms. Kim separated from the group and walked to a cubicle just quick enough before you could see who sat behind it. Later she walked back, steps no longer of her own but mixed in with someone else behind her.

Ms. Kim stops just short of the table, then steps aside.

The person behind her is quieter than you expect.

They don’t announce themselves. They don’t rush. They move with a contained, deliberate calm, as if the room has learned to make space for them without being told. Office cardigan, ID lanyard tucked neatly into a pocket, a small notebook held against their chest like a habit rather than a shield.

They look at you first, not the principal.

Their eyes meet yours, steady and observant, and for a split second you have the strange sense that you’re the one being introduced.

“This,” Principal Jung says, voice fond in a way that gives the word weight, “is Ji Suhyeon. Our office assistant. She insists on being called Jiyeon so I’d advise you to do the same. She’ll correct you even before you get the chance to call her by her real name.” he humored.

Jiyeon inclines her head in a polite bow. It’s precise, practiced. When she straightens, she offers a small smile. Not wide, not performative.

She lifts a hand, palm facing inward, and taps lightly twice against her chest. Then she gestures toward you, eyebrows lifting in a quiet question.

“She’s. . .deaf?” you asked innocently but your tone left you with questionable stares from your new co-workers.

For a moment, the room stills.

Not sharply, not unkindly. Just enough for you to feel the weight of your own words settle in your chest.

“I mean—I haven’t met anyone that’s. . .I’m sorry,” you apologized.

Jiyeon doesn’t flinch.

She watches you with the same steady attention as before, head tilted slightly, eyes thoughtful rather than offended. If she noticed the way a few teachers stiffened, she doesn’t show it.

Ms. Yamada clears her throat softly. “She is,” she says, careful. “But she prefers to speak for herself.”

Jiyeon nods once in agreement. She reaches into her cardigan pocket, retrieves her pen and notebook, and writes with quick, practiced strokes. When she turns the page toward you, her expression is calm. Almost reassuring.

Yes. I’m deaf.

She takes it back and adds another line beneath it.

But, I can read lips.

You don’t have to apologize for asking. Just don’t whisper next time.

A faint smile tugs at the corner of her mouth, dry and self-aware. The tension in the room loosens, the way a held breath finally lets go.

Heat creeps up your neck. You bow again, deeper this time. “Thank you,” you say, making sure your face is fully turned toward her. “And. . . thank you for correcting me.”

Jiyeon studies you for a second longer, then nods. Approval, maybe. Or simply acknowledgment.

Principal Jung chuckles lightly, clapping his hands once. “See? This is why she runs the place. Keeps all of us in line.”

Jiyeon smiles and tucks her head in to chuckle.

“Well, assembly is up soon.” Principal Jung said to the rest of the teachers, “shall we walk to the gym together?”

Everybody else agreed, and you nodded in suit.

-

The walk to the gym unfolds in loose clusters.

Teachers fall into step beside one another, conversations picking back up where they left off. Someone complains about the microphone cutting out every year without fail. Someone else swears the floor dips near the bleachers. The building hums now, alive with footsteps and distant voices, the kind of noise that signals a day fully beginning.

You walk slightly behind the others at first, unsure where to place yourself.

Jiyeon doesn’t rush ahead.

She keeps pace beside you, not close enough to feel intrusive, not far enough to feel distant. When you glance her way, she’s already looking at you, attentive, waiting.

You clear your throat. “I’m… still new,” you say, enunciating carefully, making sure she can see your face. “If I do something wrong, please tell me.”

She considers this for a beat, then nods.

She lifts her notebook again, writes as she walks, and turns it toward you without breaking stride.

Everyone does something wrong their first week. I’ll tell you. Kindly.

Her words land softly. 

You smile, a little embarrassed, a little relieved. “Thank you. Jiyeon.”

Her lips curve, just slightly more this time.

Inside the gym, students are already seated in neat rows, uniforms buzzing with quiet chatter. Teachers fan out along the sides, guiding classes into place. Jiyeon moves with practiced efficiency, tapping shoulders, pointing, catching a child’s attention with a gentle wave instead of a raised voice. The students respond instantly, fond familiarity written all over their faces.

You watch her for a moment longer than necessary.

She notices.

She lifts an eyebrow, amused, and signs something small and quick with one hand.

Working.

You laugh under your breath and look away, heat blooming faintly in your cheeks.

The assembly begins. Principal Jung steps onto the stage, microphone squealing briefly before settling. The students groan in unison, and Jiyeon winces playfully, mimicking the soundless vibration with an exaggerated shudder that makes a few nearby kids giggle.

As the principal speaks, you stand there among your colleagues, hands folded in front of you, posture attentive. You catch pieces of his speech, about new beginnings, about kindness, about growing together. Familiar words. Important ones.

But your attention keeps drifting back to the woman beside you.

To the way she watches the room instead of the stage. To how she anticipates needs before they arise. To how she exists so fully within this space that it bends around her without resistance.

When the assembly ends and the students are dismissed in a flurry of noise, Jiyeon turns to you again.

She points down the hall. Classroom. Then makes a small circling motion with her finger.

I’ll check in later.

You nod. “I’ll see you.”

She nodded back.

Then she’s gone, swept back into the rhythm of the school, leaving you at the doorway of your classroom with thirty expectant faces peering up at you.

You take a breath.

Maybe this isn’t the life you rehearsed.

But as you step inside, heart steadier than it was this morning, you realize something else too.

Somewhere along the way, without you noticing, the place rearranged itself.

And this time, it feels like it did so to make room for you.

-

Your first class went fine, as you expected with the ice breakers you’ve prepared beforehand.

You stood in front of the classroom, looking at the younger kids that you now had to look after. You’d ask them questions and they surprisingly answered back and not leave you in the middle of silence. They’d listen when you spoke about what to expect in your subject and what they would accept when they listened or if they didn’t.

By the time the first bell rang and the last shy hand went down, a small sense of rhythm had settled over the classroom. You found yourself smiling without thinking, noticing details that didn’t make it into any lesson plan, the way one student chewed the end of their pencil when thinking, the way another’s eyes lit up when they understood a point, and the quiet way they all seemed to watch for your cues, trusting you to guide them.

When you reached the office, the peace and quiet of the AC greeted you along with empty cubicles.

“They must still be in class.” You muttered, looking around the room and spotting the table that was assigned to you.

You pulled back the chair and set your bag on the table. Your eyes widened when you looked back in front and saw Jiyeon right across the room, at her own table and checking things off an attendance sheet.

When she finally noticed your presence, you saw her shoulders tense before dropping down slowly. She raised her hand up slightly in a small wave, one which you returned.

Jiyeon didn’t rush over. She stayed at her table, methodical, organized, a quiet center in the small office. You took a deep breath and pulled your chair a little closer to your own table, letting the initial flutter of nerves settle.

After a moment, she scribbled something on her notepad and held it up for you to read:

Good job on your first class.

You couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at your lips. It wasn’t loud or exuberant, but it was real. You lifted your hand slightly, tapping twice against your chest, a small echo of the gesture she’d made for you earlier.

Jiyeon’s eyes softened a fraction, and she tapped her pen gently against her notebook in response, an unspoken acknowledgment. The rhythm between the two of you, unforced and patient, already felt steadier than you expected.

You glanced back at your own attendance sheets, the neat columns and names suddenly feeling less like a task and more like a map of the small world you were beginning to inhabit—and a world that now, quietly, had Jiyeon in it too.

-

You soon came to learn her rhythm around the office.

You would catch Jiyeon inside in between your classes or during your breaks. She would always be occupied with something or simply anything, whether it be checking and then arranging papers or just simply reading a book for leisure.

You couldn’t quite explain it, not yet. It wasn’t loud or dramatic, just a quiet pull at the edges of your attention. The way she moved through the office, efficient, deliberate, yet somehow unassuming, made it impossible to ignore.

Even when she was buried in paperwork, there was a calm precision to her presence that seemed to hold the small chaos of the school.

Sometimes, she’d look up from her desk and meet your gaze just long enough for a flicker of acknowledgment before returning to her task.

That tiny, effortless connection left you noticing things you hadn’t before, the soft curve of her smile when a student passed by, the gentle tilt of her head as she listened to a question, the little ways she made space for others without a word.

During your breaks, when you found her with a cup of coffee or a quiet snack, you’d sit nearby, letting the air between you fill with the easy rhythm of proximity. 

Conversation came in fits and starts, her words written down in quick notes, your voice careful and deliberate, sometimes mixed with awkward gestures or clumsy attempts at sign.

Over time, the small exchanges built a kind of understanding. You learned that she had been there longer than some of your colleagues, that her dedication wasn’t just professional but deeply personal. And you could see why the students adored her—she wasn’t just present for them,

She saw them.

And somehow, your curiosity, your attention, lingered. Not just on her work, not just on her kindness, but on her. 

Always on her.

-

One afternoon, you were left inside the office to check on quiz pamphlets you had your different classes answer despite the other teachers saying to leave it for another day and that they don't really do overtime but you insisted.

The office was quieter than usual. The hum of the air conditioner and the faint scratch of pen on paper were the only sounds breaking the stillness. Sunlight slanted through the blinds, catching dust motes like tiny drifting stars. You had stacked the quiz pamphlets neatly on the table, sorting them by class, and were working through each one with meticulous care, double-checking answers and marking notes in the margins.

Jiyeon had left with the others, leaving you inside until maybe when the janitor called you out.

Or so you thought.

The ink stopped over paper when a small pack of bread and bottle of water was pushed into your view.

You looked up, startled and found her wide, expecting eyes looking back down at you.

She placed it by the side of your table before she pulled out her notebook. 

You shouldn't tire yourself.

You sighed softly and pushed a strand of hair behind your ear, feeling the weight of the hours you’d spent here already. “I know they said it’s fine to leave this for tomorrow,” you muttered, almost to yourself, “but I like to get things done properly.”

Jiyeon tilted her head slightly, pen poised over her notebook. She wrote quickly, the strokes sure and deliberate, then held the page toward you.

But even you have limits. Don’t make yourself small trying to finish everything at once.

You blinked, a little caught off guard. Her words weren’t scolding, they were careful, measured, and quietly concerned. You looked down at the small pack of bread again, the unspoken offer hovering between you, and felt a warmth you hadn’t expected.

“I appreciate it,” you said softly, your voice carrying more than just gratitude. “I… sometimes forget.”

Jiyeon gave a small nod, tapping her pen twice against the edge of her notebook, a silent encouragement. She didn’t hover, didn’t insist. She just stayed there, present, and that was enough.

You took the bread, unwrapping it slowly, and sipped from the water bottle. The office felt a little less empty now, the quiet punctuated by the subtle rhythm of her attention. For the first time in hours, you didn’t feel like you were facing the stack of papers alone.

When you looked up, Jiyeon caught your gaze and raised her eyebrows slightly, a question unspoken but clear:

Better?

You nodded, a small smile tugging at your lips. “Much better.” 

Your eyes focused on her once more before asking, “What are you still doing here?”

She scribbled on her page again.

I was helping out at the library.

You blinked, surprised. “The library?” you asked, glancing toward the window as if the quiet stacks might reveal her secret.

Jiyeon gave a small shrug, the kind that didn’t need words but carried a quiet certainty. She flipped the page again and held it up.

Books don’t move themselves.

You let out a soft laugh, the sound low and almost shy in the still office. “Right… of course,” you said. “You really do everything here, don’t you?”

Her eyes met yours, calm and unwavering, and she tapped her pen twice, her habitual rhythm that somehow felt like reassurance rather than insistence. Someone has to, her gaze seemed to say, and you found yourself nodding in silent agreement.

You leaned back slightly, letting the warmth of the moment settle. The stack of quiz pamphlets, the quiet office, the slanting sunlight—it all felt a little less tedious now, and a little more like a shared space. 

You picked up your pen again, this time with less of the weight you’d felt before, and before you could continue, she wrote again.

Can I help?

She pointed to the stack that stood unchecked. Your gaze glanced between them before your head nodded lightly.

Her smile grew.

Jiyeon sat down at the other side of the table, picking one pamphlet from the stack before reading it line by line.

You took one last glance at her as you slid over the answer key.

“You can use it,”

She takes the answer key from you with care, as if it’s something fragile rather than a sheet of paper.

Her eyes move quickly, efficiently, scanning the questions, matching answers with practiced ease. You hadn’t realized how much mental noise you’d been carrying until it quiets, just a little, watching someone else share the load.

The two of you fall into a wordless system.

You pass her a pamphlet.

She checks it, marks it, slides it back.

You stack the finished ones neatly to the side.

Every so often, she pauses and nudges a paper toward you, tapping a specific answer with the tip of her pen. You lean closer, shoulder brushing hers by accident once, then again. Neither of you comment on it. You just adjust, slightly, until the space feels natural.

You had just placed another pamphlet over the stack before she nudged her notebook closer with a question scribbled upon its page.

Have you always wanted to teach history?

You pause, pen hovering midair, the question settling somewhere deeper than you expect.

“Always?” you echo quietly, more to yourself than to her. You glance down at the pamphlets, at the familiar dates and names you’ve circled a thousand times before. Then you look back at her, at the way she waits without pressure, notebook angled but unmoving.

“I think…” You exhale, slow. “I think I wanted to understand things first.”

She tilts her head, attentive. The faintest crease forms between her brows, not confusion but interest.

You continue, words coming softer now. “When I was younger, history felt like answers. Reasons why things turned out the way they did. Why people became who they were.” A small, almost self-conscious smile tugs at your lips. “Teaching came later. When I realized understanding doesn’t mean much if you keep it to yourself.”

She turns the notebook back before pushing it across the table with new words scribbled upon it.

That’s fascinating.

“You think so?” You smiled, real this time and it grew when she nodded along.

You held your pen tighter as your other hand held the notebook, keeping it in place to write something for her.

Jiyeon pulled it closer and looked at your writing.

Have you always wanted to work at a school?

The question sits there between you, written in your own hand now, the ink slightly darker where you pressed too hard.

She reads it carefully. You can tell by the way her eyes move, by the brief pause at the end, as if she’s deciding how much of herself to place on the page.

Then she turns the notebook around.

Not always.

Just those two words at first.

She adds another line beneath them, slower this time.

I wanted somewhere quiet. Somewhere I could be useful without being loud.

Your chest tightens, just a little.

You hadn’t thought of it that way, but now that she’s said it, it fits her perfectly. The way she moves through the school like a steady current, never demanding attention yet somehow holding everything together. The library. The office. The small acts that keep days from unraveling.

“You are useful,” you say without thinking, then soften your tone. “More than you realize.”

She looks at you then, as if checking whether your words are careful or careless. Finding sincerity, her shoulders relax a fraction.

She writes again.

I like helping students. And teachers.

Your breath catches, almost imperceptibly. “I’m glad you’re here,” you admit. “I’d understand if this place would feel… emptier without you.”

Her pen pauses midair.

For a heartbeat, she doesn’t write. She just watches you, expression unreadable but gentle, like she’s memorizing the way your face looks when you’re honest.

When she finally turns the notebook around, the writing is smaller.

I feel the same.

The room seems to grow warmer, the quiet no longer hollow but full. You glance at the remaining pamphlets. There are only a few left now.

“We’re almost done,” you say, though neither of you seems eager for it to end.

She nods and picks up the next paper, but this time her elbow rests a little closer to yours. The shared space feels intentional now.

When the last pamphlet is marked and stacked away, the finality settles in gently. You sit there for a moment, hands resting on the table, listening to the air conditioner hum and the distant sounds of the building winding down for the evening.

Outside, the sky has begun to turn amber.

You clear your throat softly. “It’s getting late. I should probably lock up soon.”

She writes one last thing and slides it toward you.

Did you eat enough?

You laugh under your breath. “Yes,” you say. “Thanks to you.”

She smiles, small but bright, and tucks her notebook away.

As you both stand, your movements mirror each other. You reach for the light switch. She waits by the door, holding it open.

Before you step out, you hesitate and tap her shoulder. “Jiyeon?”

She turns back.

“…Thank you. For staying.”

She meets your gaze, eyes warm, and nods once.

Always.

-

The calendar began to fill itself in without asking.

Flyers appeared on bulletin boards. Whistles started hanging around teachers’ necks. The students grew louder in the weeks leading up to it, energy fizzing under their skin in ways no worksheet could contain.

The sports festival.

It arrived like a collective exhale. A sanctioned pause from memorization and tests, from neat handwriting and quiet classrooms. The kind of day where rules bent just enough to let joy spill through.

The morning of it, the school looked different.

Banners fluttered along the fences, hand-painted and slightly crooked. Cones lined the field in bright colors. The air smelled faintly of grass, sunscreen, and anticipation. Students ran in clusters, jerseys loose on their shoulders, laughter loud and unfiltered.

You stood near the edge of the field with the other teachers, clipboard in hand, scanning your class as they bounced on their feet.

They waved when they saw you.

One of them nearly tripped trying to get your attention.

You laughed before you could stop yourself.

You had once shared the same energetic glee from years past, the same excitement that made them almost bounce in line just to play in the tug of war.

A few steps away, Jiyeon moved through the crowd with the same quiet certainty she always carried, though today she wore a cap low over her hair and a whistle looped around her wrist instead of her neck. Students gravitated toward her instinctively, tugging at her sleeve, signing excitedly, pointing at events already in motion.

She responded to each of them with patient focus, crouching to their level, hands moving with clarity and ease. You watched her for a moment, the way the chaos seemed to organize itself around her presence.

She glanced up.

Caught you looking.

Her eyebrows lifted in mild amusement.

You cleared your throat, pretending to check your clipboard, then looked back just in time to see her smile to herself.

When the first event was announced, the field erupted into noise. Students lined up, teachers took their positions, and the day surged forward with momentum that felt almost contagious.

Your station was near the relay track.

The instructions were simple. Count laps. Keep order. Step in if someone cried or tripped or decided halfway through that running was no longer their life’s calling.

In practice, it was chaos.

Shoelaces came undone. A baton was dropped and kicked halfway across the field. One student burst into tears because their team lost before the race even finished. Another celebrated prematurely, arms thrown into the air while still running in the wrong direction.

You crouched, soothed, redirected. You clapped until your palms stung and shouted encouragement until your voice thinned into something hoarse but earnest.

And in between it all, your eyes kept drifting.

Jiyeon appeared wherever she was needed most. At the tug-of-war ropes, steadying small hands. Near the water station, tapping a shoulder before a student overheated. Along the sidelines, translating rules with quick, expressive movements when confusion flickered across a child’s face.

At one point, a boy from your class ran up to her mid-event, breathless and frantic. You watched from afar as she knelt, tried to piece things together, nodded, then pointed toward you.

He followed her finger.

Straight to you.

He finished his race.

Later, during a brief lull, you found yourself beside her near the equipment shed, both of you stealing a moment of shade.

You held out a spare bottle of water. “You’re everywhere today.”

She accepted it with a nod, took a sip, then wrote on her small notepad, the paper already speckled with grass stains.

Someone has to be.

You smiled. “The kids listen to you more than the whistle.” 

She glanced at the whistle looped around her wrist, then back at you, lips curving.

I use it for decoration.

A cheer rose suddenly from the field, loud enough to rattle your chest. Both of you turned at the same time.

Your class had won their heat.

They were jumping, screaming, collapsing into one another in a tangle of limbs and laughter.

You felt something swell in your chest. Pride. Nostalgia. Something gentler layered beneath it.

When you looked back at Jiyeon, she was already watching you.

Not the field.

You.

She caught your gaze and lifted her bottle slightly, a quiet toast.

You mirrored the gesture, heart thudding a little harder than the heat alone could explain.

The festival pressed on, bright and breathless.

And somewhere between the noise and the still moments stolen in passing, you realized this too was becoming part of your life’s memory.

Not just the students.

Not just the school.

Her.

-

The echoes of the festival refused to fade quietly.

Even days later, it lived on in the way students compared scraped knees like medals, in the exaggerated retellings of victories and near disasters, in the way laughter spilled out between lessons before being herded back into rows and rules. The school had returned to its usual rhythm, but something lighter threaded through it now.

Today’s lesson was gentler by design.

The library doors opened with a familiar hush, the scent of old paper and polished wood folding over your class like a blanket. You guided them inside in loose pairs, reminding them to use indoor voices, though their excitement already softened at the sight of shelves stretching taller than them.

“Alright,” you said, clapping once to gather their attention. “We’re looking for stories today. Not just dates.”

You handed out the guide sheets, questions printed neatly at the top. Who lived then. How did they travel. What do you think a day felt like in their shoes.

The students dispersed quickly, drawn to colorful spines and thick volumes alike. Some settled cross-legged on the floor. Others dragged chairs together, whispering as they flipped pages.

You walked between the aisles, answering questions, pointing out sections, kneeling beside a student who struggled with a word too big for their mouth.

From the circulation desk, Jiyeon watched.

She was there to help monitor, a familiar presence behind the counter, glasses perched low on her nose as she sorted returns. Every so often, a student would run up to her, book clutched tightly, hands moving in excited signs as they asked something you couldn’t quite hear or see.

She answered all of them.

With patience. With clarity. With that same calm certainty.

At one point, she caught your eye across the room and held up a book, tapping the cover twice before pointing to one of your guide questions.

You nodded, impressed. “Yes. That one’s perfect.”

She smiled and slid it toward a nearby student, who beamed like they’d been handed treasure.

Jiyeon stole a glance at you before walking to another end of the room where a kid had their hand raised.

You walked in between the aisles, the sound of the student's voices fading in the back. The backs of books met you, some fresh with ink while others were faded in time. 

You stopped when one of them was sticking out of the shelf. Pulling it out, you found what it was for.

Basic Sign Language.

You lingered there longer than you meant to.

The book sat heavier in your hands than its size suggested, its cover worn at the edges from use. Someone had written their name on the inside in careful ink, slightly smudged, as if erased and rewritten once before committing.

You flipped it open.

The pages were simple. Diagrams of hands. Arrows showing movement. Short explanations beneath each illustration. 

Hello.

Thank you.

Sorry.

Please.

You traced a finger along the margins without thinking, committing shapes to memory in the quiet way you always did when something mattered.

A laugh rose from the other side of the shelves. A student’s, sharp and bright, followed by Jiyeon’s softer response. You couldn’t hear her voice, but you didn’t need to. Her hands spoke for her. Fluid. Intentional. Gentle in a way that made even correction feel kind.

You glanced down again.

Hello.

Your fingers hovered, hesitant, then mirrored the shape in the book. Awkward. Too stiff. You tried again, slower this time, loosening your wrist.

Better.

“Teacher?”

You looked up to find one of your students peeking around the shelf, book hugged to their chest. “Is this one okay? It’s a bit old.”

You smiled. “Old is good. Old means it’s survived.” You crouched to their level and pointed to a section. “See this chapter? That one answers your second question.”

They nodded and scampered off, shoes squeaking softly against the floor.

When you straightened, Jiyeon still stood across the room.

You closed the book gently, fingers still resting on the cover as if it might slip away if you weren’t careful.

“I could use this,” you murmured, barely louder than the turning pages around you.

When you looked up again, she was no longer behind the desk. She stood at the end of the aisle now, a respectful distance away, her gaze flicking from your face to the book in your hands. 

She lifted her eyebrows in a silent question.

You lifted it a little, almost sheepish. “I didn’t know we had this.”

Her lips curved, small and genuine. She stepped closer, careful not to disturb the quiet of the space, and gestured toward the shelves around you. Then to herself. Then back to the book.

I donated some. 

“That explains why it looks so used,” you said. “In a good way.”

She nodded once.

For a brief moment, neither of you moved. The space between shelves felt narrower than it should have been, filled with the hush of pages and the quiet understanding passing between you.

Then, hesitating, you lifted your hand again.

Hello.

You signed. 

Or you tried to, at least.

Jiyeon raised her hand to cover the exhale of laughter to slip out.

She repeated the sign back to you, slower this time, exaggerating the movement just enough for clarity. Her wrist was loose. Her fingers sure. It looked effortless in a way that made you acutely aware of how much thought your own hand had been holding.

Then she gestured to you again.

You swallowed, heat creeping up your neck, and raised your hand once more. You mirrored her this time, letting your wrist relax, letting your fingers follow rather than force the shape.

Hello.

Jiyeon’s smile bloomed instantly. She gave a small nod of approval, then stepped closer, careful and considerate, and gently adjusted the angle of your thumb with two fingers.

Like that, Better.

You let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding. “I look ridiculous, don’t I?”

She shook her head immediately, almost emphatically.

You nodded, absorbing them the way you always absorbed history, with quiet reverence.

A student darted past the aisle, whispering loudly to a friend before being shushed from across the room. The library breathed on, unaware of the small shift taking place between the shelves.

You glanced down at the book again. “Do you mind if I borrow it? Just for a while.”

Jiyeon’s answer was immediate. She tapped the book once, then pointed to you.

You hesitated. “I don’t want to take something important from you.”

She met your eyes, steady and sincere.

You tucked the book under your arm carefully, like a promise. 

She watched you for a second longer than necessary, then nodded.

Across the room, another hand went up. Your name followed, whispered urgently.

Duty called again.

“I should help them,” you said, reluctant despite yourself.

Jiyeon stepped back, already easing out of the moment with practiced grace. Before turning away, she lifted her hand once more.

Hello.

You smiled, lifting yours in return, repeating the sign with a little more confidence this time.

Hello.

She noticed.

The way her eyes softened told you everything.

-

Weeks folded into one another with the quiet patience of routine.

Lessons. Meetings. Hallway greetings that grew easier with time. Somewhere in between, you practiced.

Not diligently enough to call it discipline. Not recklessly enough to call it play. Just enough.

You practiced in the early mornings, before the corridors filled with noise. In the empty classroom while the projector warmed up. In the office after everyone else had left, fingers hovering over your desk, shaping words that felt foreign and familiar all at once.

Hello became muscle memory.

Thank you followed soon after.

Sorry came harder. Please even more so. Your fingers stiffened when emotions tangled with movement, when meaning demanded more than shape.

You practiced without her there.

Not out of fear.

Not out of pride.

But because you wanted the moment to belong to itself. 

In the teachers’ lounge, birthdays were spoken about casually, tossed into conversation between sips of coffee and complaints about paperwork.

“Jiyeon’s is coming up next week, right?”

“Yeah. She never makes a fuss.”

“Still, we should do something.”

You listened from across the room, stirring your drink long after the sugar dissolved.

A conversation.

That was all you wanted.

Not a grand gesture. Not applause. Just a few exchanged sentences, shaped with care, offered in a language she lived in every day.

The idea sat with you, equal parts anticipation and quiet terror.

You practiced more carefully after that.

Happy. . .took time.

Birthday. . .longer.

The concept of wishing well, of celebration, felt clumsy in your hands at first. You fumbled. Restarted. Let your fingers drop, frustrated, then lifted them again.

You reminded yourself that children learned like this too. Slowly, with mistakes, with earnestness.

The night before, you barely slept.

Your hands lay folded over your chest, fingers twitching occasionally as if rehearsing even in rest. You stared at the ceiling and wondered if she would laugh. If she would be surprised. If she would gently correct you like she always did, patient and kind.

Morning arrived regardless.

The school buzzed with its usual energy, unaware of the quiet milestone you carried with you. You saw her briefly in the office, focused as ever, a small paper crown taped to the edge of her desk by a student’s careful hands.

She noticed you watching and smiled, that familiar curve that always felt like an invitation.

The other teachers would surprise her later, with a cake and candles, with balloons tied to her table but for now all you had to do was make sure she didn’t grow any suspicions.

You kept your distance that morning.

Not avoidance.

Just restraint.

You greeted her like always, a small nod, a polite smile, nothing that would give you away. She returned it easily, unaware of the careful calculation behind your calm. If she noticed the way you lingered half a second longer than usual, she didn’t comment on it.

The paper crown wobbled carefully every time she moved. A student had drawn stars on it in crayon, uneven yet proud. She kept forgetting it was there until another child pointed and giggled, and she would touch it, embarrassed, then laugh along.

You watched all of this from a safe distance.

Classes passed. And the day unfolded with the unremarkable persistence of routine, but underneath it all, your pulse kept time with something else. 

The lunch bell would finally ring.

You stood in the corner of the office, in your cubicle while the others were carefully placing down the numbers on the cake in a way that wouldn’t ruin the writing.

“Mr. Jo, could you call Jiyeon? I think she was in the courtyard.” One of the teachers said,

You hesitated for a moment.

Just long enough to properly understand what they asked you to do.

Then you nodded. “I’ll get her.”

The courtyard was bright with midday sun, the kind that softened edges and made the world feel briefly forgiving. A few students lingered at the far end, finishing lunches under supervision, but Jiyeon stood closer to the building, leaning against the low wall near the garden beds.

She was watching a pair of cats munching over food.

You paused at the doorway, suddenly aware of your hands. Too still. Too ready.

She noticed your reflection in the glass before you spoke. Turned. Smiled.

A question lifted in her eyes.

You raised a hand slightly, gesturing back toward the building. “They’re looking for you,” you said, making sure she could see your mouth clearly. “In the office.”

Her eyebrows knit together in mild confusion, then she nodded, pushing off the wall. She fell into step beside you easily, matching your pace without thinking.

Halfway back, she glanced sideways at you, studying your expression. You kept your face neutral with effort, afraid anything else might spill over.

Inside, the office lights felt warmer than usual.

Too warm.

The moment Jiyeon stepped through the doorway, the room erupted.

“Happy birthday to you—”

The singing was enthusiastic but not coordinated. Someone came in early, someone a little too late. A candle nearly tipped before being rescued at the last second. Jiyeon froze just inside the door, eyes wide, hands lifting instinctively like she didn’t quite know where to put them.

The cake appeared. Chocolate, neatly frosted, her name written carefully across the top. Balloons bobbed against the ceiling, strings tangled together like an afterthought.

She laughed, startled, one hand flying to her mouth.

You stayed where you were.

Watched the surprise unfold.

Watched the way she shook her head in disbelief, then bowed, again and again, signing thank you thank you thank you in quick, overlapping motions that made a few teachers laugh fondly.

When the singing ended and the room settled into chatter, plates were passed around, candles blown out amid applause. Someone pressed a paper plate into Jiyeon’s hands, another draped a ribbon around her wrist like a bracelet.

Eventually, the noise softened.

Conversations split off.

That was when she found you again.

Her gaze cut through the room, deliberate, searching, until it landed on you in the corner near the filing cabinet. She excused herself with a small bow and crossed the space between you.

Up close, her cheeks were still flushed.

Her eyes bright.

She placed a plate over the top of the cabinet, just enough for it to enter your view.

Your eyes turned to her just as she motioned you to eat.

You should have some too.

“Oh, I’m not that into sweets.” You told her, arms crossing against your chest to form an x.

Jiyeon didn’t have that.

She shook her head and carefully picked out a piece of the cake on a fork and offered it.

You opened your mouth to protest again, but the words stalled somewhere behind your teeth.

She was patient.

Annoyingly so.

Her arm didn’t waver. The fork hovered between you, chocolate frosting catching the light. Her eyebrows lifted, not challenging, not teasing. Just expectant. Like this was the most reasonable thing in the world.

You exhaled, surrendering with a quiet laugh. “You’re persistent.”

She smiled, eyes crinkling, and made a small motion with her free hand.

You leaned forward and took the bite.

It was sweeter than you expected but it was soft and rich. You chewed, nodding despite yourself. “Okay,” you admitted. “That’s… good.”

Her smile widened, victorious but gentle. She pulled the fork back, satisfied, then set the plate aside beside you.

For a moment, neither of you moved.

The office buzzed faintly behind you. Someone laughed too loudly. A chair scraped. The world kept going, but here, the air felt suspended.

Then she picked out another piece before offering it to you again.

You took a step back, something in your bag crinkling against the cabinet.

She exhaled, almost into a laugh as she set the plate back down. She pointed at you and back at it,

You better finish that.

You watched her go, the ribbon at her wrist catching the light, the balloon trailing after her like it had chosen her specifically.

You looked down at the plate she’d left behind.

Still half full.

Of course.

You shook your head to yourself, a quiet smile pulling at your mouth as you picked it up. The cake tasted just as good the second time. Maybe better, now that the moment had settled into you, warm and steady.

The rest of lunch passed easily. Laughter ebbed and flowed. Someone started cutting fruit. Another teacher argued lightly about who would wash the plates later. Jiyeon moved through it all with practiced grace, accepting well wishes, returning bows, signing thank you until her wrists must have ached.

Every so often, her eyes found you.

Not lingering. Not obvious.

Just checking.

And each time, you nodded, small and reassuring, like you were both in on something the rest of the room didn’t need to know.

When the bell rang and the office emptied, you almost let yourself slip past her before you could’ve done anything.

You caught up to her at the courtyard, the sunset slipping across the patches of grass and concrete that led the pathway out. She stood out with her balloon still wrapped around her wrist, now with drawings on them from kids that deemed it too plain.

Your steps hurried themselves down the concrete stairs and tapped her shoulder.

Jiyeon turned fully toward you, the balloon bobbing once as the string tugged around her wrist. The drawings were clearer now. Stars. Smiley faces. A misspelled happy brithday looping around the edge in marker. She glanced down at your hand still hovering midair, then back up at your face.

A question settled into her expression.

You inhaled, steadying yourself.

Your hands came up before your voice did.

Happy… birthday.

Slower than you’d practiced. Not perfect. But yours.

Then, after another second, you continued.

I wanted… to tell you properly.

Her eyes widened, just slightly.

You swallowed and went on, fingers careful, deliberate, every movement chosen.

I’m still learning.

I make mistakes.

But I wanted to say it… to you.

The silence stretched, filled only by the distant echo of students leaving, the low hum of the city beyond the gates. The balloon twisted lazily in the breeze.

Jiyeon didn’t interrupt.

She watched your hands like they mattered, like they were worth waiting for.

When you finished, you let them fall, tension rushing back into your shoulders all at once. “I’m sorry if that was clumsy,” you said aloud, habit sneaking in. “I just—”

She lifted her hand.

She signed back, slower than usual. Not because she needed to. Because she wanted you to follow.

Thank you.

For trying.

For me.

Then, softer still.

That means more than perfect words.

Your chest tightened in a way that felt unfamiliar and frightening and warm all at once.

“Wait for a moment.” you said, arms gesturing for her to give you a moment for you to reach into your bag. 

You turned as plastic crinkled inside then cursed when you pulled it out. You had meant to hand her a small bouquet of lavenders but throughout the day, they had crinkled within your bag and you wondered if she would have accepted them.

Turning back around slowly, you tried to fix them, make sure the stems stood straight when you heard her softly gasp.

You froze.

Not because of the flowers.

But because of the sound.

It wasn’t loud. It wasn’t dramatic. Just a small intake of breath, soft and unguarded, the kind people make when something reaches them before they have time to prepare for it.

You looked up.

Jiyeon’s hands were halfway lifted, fingers hovering uncertainly in front of her chest as she stared at the bundle of lavender in your grip. The balloon tugged once at her wrist, forgotten. The sunset caught in her eyes, turning them glassy, bright.

You cleared your throat, suddenly too aware of how rumpled the stems looked, how the petals had pressed in on themselves. “I—” You stopped, then tried again, quieter. “I meant to give these to you earlier. I didn’t think I’d… keep them in my bag all day.”

You held them out anyway.

Not confidently.

Not smoothly.

Just honestly.

“They’re… lavender,” you added, as if she might not know. “I heard you like things that smell calm.”

Her gaze flicked from the flowers to your face. Back to the flowers.

Then she laughed.

Not the polite kind. Not the restrained one she used around crowds. This one slipped out before she could stop it, breathy and disbelieving, her hand flying up to cover her mouth as her shoulders shook once.

She shook her head, eyes shining.

You misread that instantly. “If it’s too much, it’s okay,” you rushed. “I can just—”

She reached out.

Her fingers closed gently around the stems, careful not to crush them further. She held them like they were fragile in a way that mattered, like even bent and imperfect they deserved gentleness.

Then she took a step closer and then another one.

Just enough for you to get a smell of her cologne before her arms slipped in between the spaces of yours.

Jiyeon wrapped them softly across the back of your coat, the bouquet crinkling a little bit more but she didn’t care.

You stiffened for half a second.

Not because you didn’t want it.

Because you hadn’t expected it.

Her embrace was careful at first, like she was asking permission with the space she closed. Then, when you didn’t pull away, when your breath only caught and stayed, she relaxed into it. Her forehead brushed your shoulder. The balloon bumped lightly against your arm, squeaking once before settling.

You could feel her through the layers of fabric. Warmth. A steady heartbeat. The faint trace of her cologne, something clean and soft, like flowers in the sun.

Your hands hovered uselessly at your sides.

Then, slowly, as if afraid the moment might shatter if you moved too fast, you lifted them. One rested at the small of her back. The other curled lightly against her shoulder, fingers threading into the fabric of her coat.

The hug wasn’t tight.

It wasn’t rushed.

She breathed out against you, a long, relieved exhale, and you felt it in your chest more than you heard it.

After a moment, she pulled back just enough to look at you. Not far, just enough that her hands still held onto your coat, knuckles faintly white.

She signed, close this time, so close you had to focus not to miss it.

You didn’t have to do this.

Her eyes softened.

But you did anyway.

You swallowed. “I wanted to,” you said, voice low. Honest. “Not because it was your birthday. Because it was you.”

Her lips parted slightly. The sunset spilled gold across her face, catching on her lashes.

She lifted one hand, hesitated, then brushed her thumb gently against your wrist, right where your pulse jumped.

The last thing you saw was her stepping up with the tips of her shoes before you felt something warm quickly press itself against your cheek.

The moment was quick enough that it’ll pass if you blinked but for once, you felt the world slow down a fraction

Once she had landed on her soles, her eyes had widened as if she herself had no clue about what she had just done. She blinked, breath getting heavy before she slipped out of your grasp and continued down the pathway leaving you confused.

Stumped.

Utterly breathless.

You didn’t move right away.

Not because you couldn’t.

Because your body hadn’t caught up to what just happened.

Your cheek still felt warm. Not flushed, not burning. Like the memory of her lingered in the air and your skin had decided to keep it for itself.

You stood at the edge of the courtyard, lavender crushed gently between your fingers, balloon string still faintly brushing your sleeve where it had bumped you moments earlier. The sunset had slipped lower now, colors deepening, shadows stretching long across the concrete.

She was already several steps ahead.

Walking too fast.

You noticed that before anything else. The way her steps were longer than usual, uneven, like she’d forgotten how long her legs were supposed to move. One hand clutched the flowers close to her chest. The other fumbled briefly with the balloon string, wrapping it tighter around her wrist as if anchoring herself.

Her shoulders were stiff.

Jiyeon didn’t look back.

You opened your mouth.

Nothing came out.

Your breath finally found you again in a shaky exhale, chest rising too fast, heart thudding like it had missed a step and was scrambling to catch up. You lifted a hand, then let it fall, fingers curling into your palm.

She kissed your cheek.

The realization landed fully now, slow and heavy and unreal.

It wasn’t an accident.

Not really.

Too deliberate for that.

Too careful.

She had chosen that moment.

Chosen you.

And then, just as suddenly, she had fled from her own courage.

You took a step forward.

Then another.

“Jiyeon,” you called, voice softer than you meant it to be.

Then you ran towards her.

“Jiyeon-ah, wait for me!”

-

Ever since then, she started to work closer to you.

Not like anything was set in stone or was anything official. 

The change was subtle at first, a gentle shift that didn’t demand attention but couldn’t be ignored either.

She claimed the empty desk next to yours one morning, placing her things carefully, almost ceremoniously, as if marking territory without words.

When you walked into the office later that day, she looked up briefly, gave a small nod, and returned to whatever work she had spread across the desk. You found yourself lingering just a fraction longer at the doorway, caught in the quiet rhythm of her being there. It wasn’t intrusive. It wasn’t dramatic. It was comfortable, in the same way sunlight spills through a window and warms the floor without permission.

In the library, it was the same. You noticed her sliding into a chair nearby, a stack of books forming a quiet barrier that invited proximity without imposing it. She would glance at your work, sometimes offering a wordless thumbs-up or a small smile when you caught her looking. The students seemed oblivious, but you felt the difference immediately. Her presence shaped the space around you, shaping it in a way that made the mundane feel lighter, easier.

Even in class, she would appear in the back row, at the edge of the room or by the side of the door, quietly observing, grading, or taking notes, but you knew better. Her eyes tracked your movements, catching the small gestures you made, the way your hands moved across the board, the pauses when you collected your thoughts. It was never obtrusive, never distracting. 

One time, you caught some students at the back row of the class giggling at something.

When you asked them what they were laughing at, they pointed to the woman sitting beside the door.

Your gaze followed and saw Jiyeon sitting still with her eyes closed yet her head looked like it could topple at any moment as it slowly swayed to each side.

You didn’t wake her up, didn’t tell off the boys but you simply took off your coat and walked over before carefully draping it over her.

She blinked, a little slowly at first, as if trying to reconcile the warmth across her chest. Then her lips curved, subtle, almost imperceptible at first, but it carried a softness that made the corners of your chest ache. She didn’t reach for the coat, didn’t even shift, she just stayed there, letting the gesture linger.

For a moment, the class was just background noise, a dull hum behind the delicate exchange of glances. You kept your posture steady at the front, hands folded lightly over the desk, but every few seconds your eyes flicked back, drawn like gravity to her quiet repose.

Finally, she opened her eyes fully, looking directly at you, the faintest tilt of her head acknowledging the care you’d given. Her fingers flexed against the edge of her desk, hesitant, as if weighing the right way to respond without breaking the moment.

Then she signed. Slowly, deliberately, the way she had taught you.

Thank… you.

You felt it in your chest before your eyes, warmth, weight, and recognition all at once. 

You nodded once, almost imperceptibly, a silent acknowledgment that your attention was hers whenever she needed it. She smiled then, softly, her shoulders relaxing slightly under the coat, and for the rest of the lesson, your eyes found her repeatedly, not to check, not to command, but just to exist in the same quiet orbit.

When class ended and the office emptied, she had stayed behind waiting until you walked out of the room.

She fell into step beside you without a word, her presence settling in alongside yours like another layer of the quiet afternoon. The hallways were mostly empty, the echoes of departing students fading into the soft hum of fluorescent lights and distant footsteps.

You kept your pace measured, neither quickening nor slowing, letting the space between you feel natural, unforced. Her hand brushed briefly against your arm as you passed a classroom door, a fleeting contact that made your pulse hitch, though neither of you flinched.

Then you felt her hold onto you, finally.

When you felt her hand fit into place with yours, you stopped. 

She didn’t pull back. She let her fingers curl around yours, light but deliberate. The space around you seemed to contract, the distant hum of the school fading until all you could feel was the gentle pressure of her hand and the steady warmth of her presence beside you.

You tilted your head slightly, as if asking permission without words. She answered with a subtle squeeze, patient and knowing, letting you know she was here, fully, without needing anything else.

For a moment, neither of you moved. The hallway stretched on, empty and forgiving, and the simple act of holding hands carried more weight than anything that had happened before. Your chest tightened, warmth pooling low and steady, a quiet echo of the trust and care that had built between you over weeks, over small gestures, over moments like this.

Finally, you exhaled, slow and measured, letting yourself settle into the rhythm of her presence. You took a careful step forward, and she matched it, and then another, until you were walking side by side, hand in hand, carrying the unspoken understanding between you like something fragile and precious, 

yet entirely yours.

There, in the middle of your room, was Nien — your roommate, your self-proclaimed coach, and the last person you want to see before 9 a.m. She was in a cropped hoodie and shorts, hair tied into a messy ponytail, cheeks slightly flushed as she warmed up… using two water jugs like makeshift dumbbells.

Even worse, she was smiling too. Bright. Cheerful. As if this was the most natural thing to be doing at the crack of dawn.

You lazily checked your phone. 7:03 a.m.

“I hate you,” you mumbled into your pillow and covered your head with the blanket. "I stayed up late last night, damn it…piss off, Nien…"

“Good morning to you too!” she chirped without missing a beat, clearly ignoring your groaning . Her voice was way too chipper for someone who had no business being awake this early.

You peeked out from under the blanket, squinting at her. “Why are you like this?”

“Like what?” She looked over her shoulder, cheeks flushed from exertion, that innocent smile of hers glowing like morning sunlight. “Disciplined?”

“Insane,” you corrected. "It's the weekend. Let me sleep, you jolly bean…"

She laughed, setting the jugs down with a soft clunk. “Come onnnn, you promised we’d go to the gym together today.”

You groaned louder, flipping onto your back. “No, you said, ‘Let’s go to the gym,’ and I said, ‘We’ll see.’ That’s not a promise, that’s just me thinking.”

Nien padded over, each step light and springy, the floor creaking softly under her socks. She crouched beside your bed, her expression hovering between amusement and mischief. “You’ve been saying ‘we’ll see’ since last month.”

“That’s called consistency,” you said, eyes still closed.

“Then consistently get up,” she countered.

You reached for the blanket again. “Not happening. Not today.”

A moment of silence. Then, her voice. Softer. Playful. “Come on. You said I could drag you out of bed if you bailed again.”

“Yeah, but I didn’t think you’d actually do it,” you mumbled. “You’re too nice for that.”

Well. A soft whoosh, and then, betrayal. Your blanket was yanked off in one swift, merciless motion. The rush of cold morning air hit your skin like punishment. “Nien!” you shouted, curling up instantly.

She was laughing now, that innocent, bell-like laugh that made you want to simultaneously smile and file a noise complaint. “Get up, grumpy. We’ll miss the good treadmills.”

“You think I care about good treadmills?” you said, glaring at her. “The only treadmill I care about is the one that treads me back to sleep.”

“Wow.” She nodded seriously. “That’s a terrible line. You’re definitely awake now.”

You sighed dramatically and sat up, hair a mess, face still half-buried in your hand. “Tell me why the hell did I choose to live with you?”

“Because I do your laundry when you forget,” she said immediately, standing up straight and crossing her arms like she’d been waiting for that line.

“Once,” you muttered. “You did it once and haven’t stopped mentioning it.”

“It’s a good deed, I deserve credit.”

You squinted at her. “You mixed my white shirts with your pink hoodie.”

“Now they’re matching!” she said proudly. Completely unbothered.

You couldn’t help the small laugh that slipped out. “You’re so annoying.”

“Annoyingly cute?”

You stared at her blankly. “…annoying, period.”

She gasped dramatically, clutching her chest. “Wow. You’ve changed.”

“Yeah,” you said, dragging yourself out of bed, “I’ve changed into someone who wants to move out.”

“You say that every week,” she teased, already grabbing her gym bag. “And yet, here you are — my favourite roomie.”

“Only because the landlord won’t let me kick you.”

She grinned, leaning against the wall. “You like living with me.”

You looked up at her, the morning light from the window catching on her pink hair, her eyes dancing with mischief, her entire being radiating that unfair combination of wild and warmth, and sighed. “Sure, you can think of it that way.”

She chuckled, tossing you a water bottle. “Come on, tragic boy. Five minutes to get ready.”

“Or what?”

“Or I’ll carry you out in your pajamas. Bridal style.”

You blinked, half-daring her. “Don't you dare, muscle freak.” But to be fair, it does sound good in your head.

Her lips twitched. “Try me.”

You stared at her for a moment. The slight smirk tugging at her mouth, the way her stance screamed “I absolutely would”. Didn’t think this girl would make you rub your temples this early in the morning. “You’re not human.”

“Thank you,” she said brightly, as if you just complimented her. And by the time you stumbled into the bathroom to change, she was humming to herself and tying her sneakers by the door.

Somewhere between brushing your teeth and pulling your hoodie over your head, you realized that, for someone who claimed to hate mornings (disheveled, half-awake, annoyed), you couldn’t stop the smile on your face.

And that was the most annoying part of all.

-

7:30am, and the gym is already a live wire. Metal clanks, treadmills thrum, bass-heavy pop rattles the mirrors, and a chorus of strained grunts underlines everything. The air tastes faintly of chalk and protein shakes. And you want, with an aching passion, to be anywhere but here.

You fall a few steps behind Nien, who moves through the large space like she owns the layout and the playlist. Her pink ponytail bounces with each stride; her hoodie sleeves are pushed up just enough to flash the curve of a biceps that looks illegal on a person who smiles like a dandelion. At home she’s a cinnamon roll. Here she looks like she will effortlessly put you on a chokehold.

“Remind me why I agreed to this again?” you ask, dragging your feet toward the bag racks so your shoes hit the rubber floor slower than they should.

“Because deep down, you love taking care of your health, with me.” she replied, voice dripping with mischief.

“I don’t even love taking care of my own skin.” you muttered.

Nien laughed and handed you a towel. “You’ll thank me later.”

“Pretty sure I won’t, dummy.” you said, but you still followed her to the free weights like a responsible hostage.

You started your warmup — light curls, slow breathing, trying not to look like you wanted to go home. For a moment, you thought you were doing decent, doing your usual set. Until you looked over.

Nien, this girl. 

Seriously, she was in her zone. Fully locked in — no breaks, no wasted motion, just clean, economical lifts that look effortless. One set, two, three; her crop top clings to a frame that is all lean planes and subtle strength. Her face is flushed the kind of pink that says exertion, not stress, and she still manages that mischievous, almost innocent smile you’ve gotten used to.

She finished her reps, turned to you with a bright grin, and asked, “You good?”

You quickly looked away. “Yeah. Totally fine. Just… pacing myself.”

“Pacing yourself?” she repeated, smiling knowingly. “You’ve been lifting that same dumbbell for five minutes.”

“I’m focusing on form,” you said defensively. "and technique."

“Right. Sure.” She giggled  and went back to her next set, leaving you muttering under your breath about how she was a macho girl with an angelic face.

And then while you were on your third set, already feeling your arms tremble, you noticed her reflection in the mirror moving closer. Nien had finished her reps long ago, but instead of resting like a normal person, she was making her way toward you with that look. You know, the one that meant she was about to “help.”

“Your form’s off again,” she said, voice cutting through the music and clanking weights.

You exhaled through your teeth, trying to sound nonchalant. “I got it.”

“You don’t,” she replied simply, standing right behind you now. "You should take a— "

Before you could protest, you felt her presence — warm, solid, unmistakable. Her hand slid lightly between your shoulder blades, palm pressed flat against your back. “You’re rounding,” she murmured, adjusting your posture with gentle but deliberate pressure. “Keep this straight. Yeah, like that.”

You could feel every point of contact — the brush of her fingers through the thin fabric of your shirt, the heat radiating from her body as she leaned in to guide your movement, and the sweet perfume you saw her put on this morning. Her voice was low, steady, the faint sound of her breathing brushing past your ear. Great, a terrific way to stay in focus.

“Now, engage your core,” she said softly. Her hand moved down, resting lightly against your stomach, and your entire brain short-circuited. “Don’t let it relax while you lift.”

You swallowed hard. “Pretty sure it’s impossible to relax right now.”

“What was that?”

“Nothing,” you said quickly, resuming the lift. It definitely didn’t help that you decided to look at the mirror. You saw her. Nien. Too focused on getting you to the right form. You were too focused on the beads of sweat rolling down her abs instead. And you swallowed hard. Hard. The air between you suddenly felt thicker and heavier. Every breath sounded too loud, every heartbeat became annoyingly noticeable. Damn it, get your mind out of the gutter. It’s just Nien.

It’s just Nien…right?

“Better?” she asked softly, still close enough that her ponytail brushed your arm.

“Yeah,” you muttered, trying to sound normal. “Better.”

She stepped back finally, and you exhaled like you’d been holding your breath for hours. The air felt cooler without her there (annoyingly so).

Nien smiled, completely oblivious, wiping her hands on her towel. “See? I told you I’d make a good trainer.”

“Sure, totally.” you said, trying not to think about how close she’d been a second ago. "If they ignore your puppy eyes."

She laughed. Light, careless, the kind of laugh that made you think she really had no idea what she was doing to you.

You grabbed your bottle to quench your very much overdue thirst, then you saw them — two guys near the bench press. You caught the side glances, the subtle nods, the whispers that weren't as quiet as they thought. But then again, the gym was full of people looking at people. It wasn’t new, so you didn't want to assume.

Then they started moving closer.

Nien had gone back to her own set, focused, completely unaware that the two were making their slow approach, pretending to check weights near her area. You could already hear one of them mutter, “She’s cute as hell.” You tried to ignore it, you really tried. Not your business. Nien could handle herself. She's a grown up, after all.

And then they started approaching the aloof airhead. Great.

By the time the first guy spoke up  “Hey, you need a spot?”, she’d looked up, polite and caught off guard. Blinking with her puppy eyes, polite as ever. “Oh, no, I’m okay, thank you.”

“Come on,” his friend added, stepping closer. “You shouldn’t be lifting that alone. Dangerous for someone your size.”

You rubbed your temple and exhaled through your nose. Hard. Gosh, they really didn’t even try to hide. Sweaty, subtly contracting their muscles, straightening their back to flex their chests.

Nien just smiled awkwardly, trying to be nice. “Really, it’s fine. I do this a lot.”

They didn’t move. You could feel your patience slipping, tempting to just fling a 20kg weight idling next to you already. And by the time the second guy started flexing (actually flexing) and saying something about “training tips,” your leg moved before your brain did. One step, sharp, automatic. Then another. By the time your mind caught up, you were already standing between them. It got awkward immediately.

The guy blinked, clearly surprised. You blinked too, because you hadn’t exactly planned this.

“Uh…” you started, realizing you had no script for this scenario. “She—uh—she said she’s fine.”

The taller guy looked at you, a bit thrown off. “We were just—”

“Yeah, I heard,” you said quickly, trying to sound composed but feeling your heart thump a little too fast. “Just… don’t.”

“Don’t what?” he asked, brow furrowing, a smirk creeping back. “We were only—”

“She said she’s fine,” you repeated, this time firmer.

Silence stretched for a beat. The guy’s friend shifted awkwardly. Finally, they both backed off with some muttered “chill, bro” and a shrug that was supposed to look confident but just looked uncomfortable. You exhaled through your nose and turned back to Nien, who was just staring up at you — a dumbbell still in hand, face slightly flushed but not from the workout.

“You didn’t have to—”

“I know,” you interrupted, rubbing the back of your neck. “My leg kinda… moved on its own.”

Her lips twitched, struggling not to laugh. “Your leg?”

“Yes. My leg. It moves by itself,” you said flatly. “My brain was still debating if I was bothered, but my leg just—” you gestured vaguely between you and the space she’d been standing in, “—did this uh…fucking thing.”

She giggled, covering her mouth. “That’s… very you.”

“Rude. What’s that supposed to mean?” You really tried to sound annoyed.

“Impulsive but pretending not to be,” she teased. “It’s cute.”

You roll your eyes, but the heat at your neck makes your retort sound thinner than you planned. “Whatever. Just. Don’t smile like that at random dudes, okay? You give them hope.”

“I was just being polite,” she said innocently.

“Polite doesn’t mean naïve,” you say, handing her a water bottle. “Not everyone is harmless.”

Her lips twitched. “You sound like my dad.”

“I sound like someone trying to prevent you from an awkward date. Or two. Or three.”

She laughs, light and unbothered, the kind that makes the gym noise recede for a second. “Ok dad, you worry too much.”

“And you don’t worry enough, Nien.”

“Then we balance each other out.” She hooks an elbow through yours teasingly, like a claim staked with a smile.

You glared half-heartedly. “You think this is funny?”

She nodded. “A little.”

You sighed and shook your head, muttering, “This girl, seriously…” before grabbing her wrist. “Come on. We’re done here.”

“What? But I still have two sets left!”

“You can do them tomorrow. Before you accidentally start having a line of guys I have to kick.”

She laughed again as you tugged her toward the exit. “You’re seriously dragging me out?”

“Yeah,” you said, pushing the gym door open. “You dragged me here. It’s only fair.”

-

Outside, the morning air was different. Crisp and cool it was, the kind that carried the faint scent of wet pavement and coffee from the café across the street. After the thick, sweaty heat of the gym, it felt like stepping into a reset button. You exhaled, muscles still faintly trembling, and your mind somewhere between annoyance and relief.

Your hand was still wrapped tightly around her wrist. You didn’t notice until you saw the pale contrast of her skin against your fingers. She didn’t say a word about it. Didn’t tease. Didn’t pull away. Just walked beside you, her sneakers scuffing lightly against the pavement, a small, knowing smile tugging at the corner of her lips.

For a while, neither of you spoke. Just the rhythm of your footsteps, the dull hum of early traffic, and the sound of her breathing beside you. Calm, steady, almost smugly peaceful.

Then she said it, voice soft but laced with that familiar teasing edge. “You really didn’t have to step in, you know.”

You glanced sideways at her. “Yeah, well, someone has to make sure you don’t get kidnapped by other muscle heads.”

She hummed thoughtfully. “So you were jealous.”

You stopped walking. “I wasn’t jealous.”

She stopped too, turning just enough to catch your face. Eyes glinting, lips curving into that grin you’ve learned to fear. “You totally were.”

You stared at her flatly. “Don’t even try.”

She only laughed, the sound light and disarming, before doing something that short-circuited your brain. This girl. This sly girl. She slipped her fingers between yours. Smooth, natural, like it wasn’t even a decision. 

“I knew you’d step in anyway,” she murmured, voice dropping to a sing-song whisper.

You raised an eyebrow. “Excuse me?”

Her eyes darted to yours, all mischief and sunlight. “Nothing~”

You sighed, half in defeat, half to hide the fact that your pulse just kicked up a notch. “You’re so damn fucking annoying.”

“I prefer cute,” she said cheerfully, squeezing your hand…and then tugging you forward.

“Ya—” you started, stumbling a little as she began to walk faster, practically dragging you down the street by your hand.

“Come on,” she said over her shoulder, grinning as bright as the sun that was finally cutting through the clouds. “You’re buying breakfast.”

“What—why me?!” you groaned, letting yourself be pulled along anyway.

“Because,” she said, turning around just long enough to flash that teasing smile that always spelled trouble, “you always do. Bleh.”

So then she just half-dragged, half-led you while humming some pop tune under her breath — light, breezy, entirely unbothered. And for a split second, you caught yourself smiling despite the ache in your arms and the little mischief she always brought into your life.

And that's when it hit you.

She definitely planned this. Every single second of it. From waking up to now, holding your hand like her favourite thing in the world.

Geum Junghoon didn’t even consider being conscripted into military service after he turned eighteen thanks to the safety net of getting into college, with him and his friends making academic pursuits their main reason. For Junghoon, he took it seriously. Until nineteen, he was focused on his academics like he was at war with the terror of failing a single class, but was able to loosen up when he got himself invested with a bizarre yet welcoming extracurricular. A year later, turning twenty years old was the first most tumultuous of his young adult life, with the first half turning out to be one of his best years, and the latter half being the worst. But he kept going, and months after turning twenty-one, he made the choice to enlist the moment one of his closest friends got the claws of conscription coming for him. They were already seniors in their first semester.

He had the same right, the same entitlement to take his leave as the rest of his fellow draftees, but even his own commanders were surprised with how seldom he expressed taking his personal leave. His closest companions had to come out and take him with them or include his own name when they were requesting their leave to their officers.

Throughout the whole year, Junghoon spent his leaves taking a bus to Daegu, where his family’s hometown was. But it was still a Friday. Last week, he chose to stay on his base. It was somewhat of a disappointment for them, but Junghoon didn’t want them to worry too much. Other families probably would’ve needed it more was one reason he justified himself, but a part of his mind kept it, so they wouldn’t feel burdened by the demand of his presence on the holidays. It would’ve probably broken their hearts if he ever admitted such a self-deprecating yet honest thought.

He arrived at the bus stop an hour and five minutes later, yet his home was not the first destination to come to mind. The truth was, no one outside their base was still aware of his leave, except that he would be visiting Seoul on Saturday. It gave him a one day grace period before most folks in his life would get closer to his proximity, literally or digitally. With his duffle bag hanging on his shoulder, he took a walk across the street’s nightlife.

Visiting a bar wasn’t his ideal, but it was better than the many times his buddies tried dragging him into a nightclub to party, contradicting his simple desire to explore more of the cultural spots of Pyeongtaek located outside their base, something that he did do by himself at times. Tonight, the memories of his home were slowly coming back to him. The bartender was nowhere to be found, so the man sat and waited on the nearest stool. Taking a quick look around, the location wasn’t as rowdy and crowded as he had hoped. It was the ideal place to settle for the night, and perhaps, it would be the perfect chilling spot. He was reassured by one mentality, the fewer familiar faces there were, the better. Rather than just holding on to his duffle bag next to the stool beside him, the only thing missing was a bottle of quality beer in his hand to continue this night with more silence. He looked at the digital clock above the backbar. The digits reached 10:00 PM just now.

From his left, the staff-only door finally opened seconds later and out came the face of a good old acquaintance who welcomed him from the aisle. “Annyeonghaseyo! Apologies for keeping you waiting.” Without looking too closely into him, her hand reached for an empty glass. “What can I get y—Geum Junghoon-ssi?” Until her vision caught his face.

In Junghoon, there was no disappointment in his face. Strangely enough, he exhaled a sense of relief. “Kim Nakyoung-sunbaenim?” His smile followed after, mirroring hers.

“Yah, daebak,” she cheered, opening her arms wide. “It’s been a while! How are you?”

It’s only been over a year since Jeunghoon had stumbled upon a senior in and out of campus, not counting his closest friends who either resided close to the district of the university or enrolled into graduate school. Nakyoung appeared to be in the former, though he had yet to know more about her current whereabouts.

“So what will you be having?” she asked him, balancing her job to listen to a customer as well as her enthusiastic attention as an old friend. Before his arrival, she seemed to have already entertained some of the locals before they went to their own tables with fellow patrons. At this hour, it’s just the two of them on the counter.

“Hmm…” He tried to inspect the bottles on the backbar, but his cluelessness with brands made him resort to saying, “Just a bottle of your cheapest beer will be fine, thank you.”

“Okay!” Her pitch raised for that one word as she headed to pick a bottle from the fridge. “I’ll give you our finest bottle, then.”

“Oh, aniyo, sunbae…” He shook his head and hands by instinct. “You don’t have to—”

Nakyoung squinted her eyes and pouted at his response. “Cut those honorifics. There won’t be sunbae, noona, or ahjumma leaving your mouth.” She opened the cap with a bottle opener. “And besides, giving this treat is the least I can do for your service. Also, you technically can’t decline a drink from a senior.” A little playful power trip made him feel less isolated than usual, even though he himself was no stranger to following orders.

“Aigoo,” Junghoon chuckled, forcing himself to take the opened bottle and taking his first sip of the night. “Well, this is actually very smooth. It’s nice… Gomopseumnida.”

“Right?” she cheered, affirming the man’s compliment before he took another good sip.

“But in my defense, I’m just going through a mandatory service,” he continued. “You basically give that kind of privilege to any other men who drink here.”

“I wouldn’t say all of them, but touché.” Her smile sharpened into a smirk. “But, still, I heard you did it for your friend, so that’s something else I can respect.”

“Who in the…” His mouth formed into a small gape, caught by her tease. “Told you—”

“Yubam did…” she confessed, raising her hands in the air. “Ever since she started dating Yeonghwan, she’s been close with your group as well.”

He shook his head keeping his smile closed. “She can’t—well, I can’t even blame her, or hyung. You two are just that close… Ever since both our clubs converged, and all that.”

“That’s true, but even outside that, she just cares about you,” she added, albeit adding some playful hints of speculation from her side. “I’d say even a little too much.”

“Well, I don’t think that’s the case,” he shrugged off. “And even if that’s true, she’s more of a sister to me... Aside from my own little cousin and Kotone-chan, I can say the same for Yubin-ah…and she’s taken things with hyung to the next level, like the next level, so I doubt there’s gonna be anything keeping them from staying committed.”

Fascination crawled up to her in the form of a heartfelt smile. She realized he was much more mature than they last had a heart-to-heart conversation. “You’re becoming more interesting tonight, Junghoon-ah… Let’s see what else has the service changed you.”

“What makes you say that?”

“I think you’re much wiser than our first talk.” Although one moment stuck to her the most. “I still remember when we prepared our festival booth. You were asking me for advice about how you’d handle your super crush back then like you were begging for pointers about a finals examination.”

“That wasn’t even our last conversation.” He tried to be dismissive, more embarrassed to recall the memory than she was eager to bring it up to him. Sensing the man’s slight discomfort, she went easier with her approach.

“Sure, but first impressions tend to leave a mark more, at least for me… You don’t have to be too embarrassed about it. Just trying to bring back a memory, for ol’ times sake?”

“I wasn’t embarrassed,” he denied weakly, but she’s already gotten through his head. Funnily enough, he’s gone through worse intimidation tactics during his training and service from his commanders.

“All right… I was just curious if something took off. Just don’t want my advice to go to waste, after my little counseling from two years ago.”

“Well, if you’re still that curious, I shot my shot,” he put it simply, to her dissatisfaction.

“And—?” She immediately asked further, as if it was a juicy story waiting to unfold.

“It ended,” he cut it short. “She’s a senior like you, so that’s just how things go, I guess.”

There was audible bitterness in the croak of his delivery. “Mianhae,” she mumbled.

“Don’t be,” Junghoon flaunted his hand away as if his sorrow was something physical.

“I don’t wanna ask exactly how it happened with you, but situations like that didn’t have to end that tragically, though. Just look at Myungsoo-ah and Yooyeon-unnie right now. They’re literally both in graduate school…”

“Exactly my point. Not everyone gets to have the same dream and ambition. I’m happy for them, but you have to admit, hyung got really lucky with Yooyeon-sunbae. Others, well, weren’t so much…”

That same loneliness he had was radiating through her. “I’m with you there, so don’t feel like you’re left out… We are like a lot of folks here tonight. Not all of them, but still... Not everyone gets to be with someone since New Year’s Eve.”

“Feels really assuring, Naky-yah,” he professed, before taking another sip of his beer.

“Just doing my job… We don’t always have to feel pitiful just because we’re alone.”

“Yeah… Speaking of which, when did you first do this whole bartender gig?”

“Oh, I’ve only started six months ago… My harabeoji ran this place for decades, but then he retired and so for the longest time, this was my uncle’s bar... Then he got into rebab.”

“Oh, that’s…” He couldn’t find the next words to describe his surprise and sympathy.

“Gwenchana,” she quickly soothed his concern. “He’s doing his best to recover now… In the meantime, my cousins and I have been taking turns week after week.”

“Ah, I see…” He bobbed his head. “So you’re not gonna be bartending forever, then?”

“I hope not… I’m just taking a gap year… Just working on the side whenever I can like at the PC bang, gym, or sales. Gain some skills I may or may not be needing in the future.”

That was also the story of his life. “You were a dance major, if I remember correctly?”

The mention of her education put an enthusiastic smile to her face. “Yeah, I was.”

“Hmm… I was thinking, why not audition to be an idol?”

“Oh, no… I’m not chasing some dangerous dream, no offense to my younger self… Especially not after all the whole can of worms that would come into that.”

He felt bad by just bringing the idea up. “Yeah, that’s a good point… Better steer your feet away from turbulent waters if they’re not calming down anytime soon.”

“Mmm-hmm… But I have started collecting all offers for a choreographer, or maybe just being a fitness trainer first like I do sometimes.”

“Seems like a good start. I just hope you don’t give up on it… Choreographing, I mean.”

She exhaled with a sense of acceptance and a hint of determination. “I already gave up my idol dream the moment I got into college, so I definitely won’t give up on this one.”

“I do think you could still qualify for an idol in a lot of ways… I heard from Honggi that the industry’s not as weird with age as they were, but even taking that into account, I still believe talent and hard work should still matter the most by the end of the day.”

“That’s sweet…” Her tone shifted into a sardonic one. “But I don’t know what Honggi’s sources are, because that’s still mostly a load of bull… Coming from two girls who have actually tried auditioning in the industry a couple of times… Me and my older sister.”

Junghoon let out a chuckle. She’s had the looks, the talent and skills to be an artist, yet he understood why it wouldn’t be ideal or even pragmatic to make this possibility real.

“In another world, maybe… Right now, I wanna figure out how I can deal with my life as it is… I don’t wanna take out my other options just because I haven’t tried them out yet.”

“You and I both,” he confessed.

“Well… You still have a semester left, but as your sunbae, I still hope you don’t spend the rest of it getting back signing up for a part-time job, arasseo? Make the most of it while you still can… You might regret it once you graduate.”

“You got any regrets, Naky-yah?” He knew he had plenty, but he’d rather hear her side.

“Some. A few, but not as many as I thought. Even if I’m not working at some big studio or agency, I get to do these gigs and hang out with my pals without obsessing too much on going back to campus… But hey, it’s just me.”

“And you say like being a senior makes you seem ill or something,” he humored her, but her mode of lecturing was far from over.

“Just an analogy… But you get my point. I was your senior, after all? I’m just giving you my advice. That’s just one of your perks if you’re lucky enough. Hoobaes will look up to you and ask you some things, even if you might not have the answers, you just tell them as honest as you have to be.”

“That makes sense. But I–uhh… you know I can’t promise anything even if it’s good advice, but I’ll try to balance things out.”

She found the man to be quite stubborn, albeit in an amusing way. She was aware of the things he’s been through, but if she couldn’t change her mind, at least she got to lend her food for thoughts and presence. “You do you, Junghoon-ah... You want a second bottle?”

He just noticed his bottle being empty, making him place his right cheek on his warm hand with a humble smile. Far from tipsy, less hesitant to decline. “Well, who am I to say no? Add that to my tab, bartender.”

“Majayo!” she cheered, walking back to the fridge. “Another bottle coming right up.”

With their futures having been the spotlight of their discussion during their reunion, the next half an hour was spent more with the two catching up from their pasts and present. Junghoon asked for more of Nakyoung’s account during her last semester. Rather than completely press Junghoon on his service, he confessed how he had gained his position as a cook in the last six months.

“You’re like Jungkook!” she pointed out with a cheery cadence, softly tugging his shoulder back and forth. “He was a cook, and he also got promoted as Sergeant.”

“That’s actually what my friends said, but sure… I’ll definitely take that compliment.”

When his turn was over, Nakyoung made him recall about his ascension even before senior year, mentioning his entry to student council and helping out seniors with their farewell party, considering she wasn’t present to join and dine in with his department’s conclusive event a week before her graduation. The young man made her realize that it didn’t matter, admitting that tonight pretty much felt like the party he helped prepare, only a lot less rampant and noisy with all other students amidst clinking their bottles or glasses and grilling fresh meat. Although his description made Nakyoung envious about missing out, she got herself a glass of apple juice just to replicate that moment. Amused by her effort, Junghoon offered to pour her glass, which Nakyoung accepted, somewhat appreciative and embarrassed by him going along with her spirited antics. Tonight was not only a night of reunion, but also a shared night of hopeful renewal.

Nakyoung leaned from the counter and turned her head sideways with curiosity, which amused Junghoon. “By the way, your posture is unbelievably straight, you know that?”

He craned his neck to inspect himself from the back for a moment. “You noticed? Huh.”

“Some fellas from the table are lookin’ at you really funny, so yeah,” she shot back.

“Just how I was trained, I guess… Now, it’s just a habit of mine… I was wondering that if they really served in the forces, they would’ve understood why I’ve gotten used to this.”

“Touché,” the woman chuckled, raising her hands without rebuttal. And throughout their countless topics, they took one moment for their eyes to lock at each other. He noticed her hair had gone longer, but more filterless thoughts made him self-aware.

“I’ll head into the comfort room for a second. Would you mind looking after my bag?”

“Oh, sure…” From the counter, her hands reached out to his bag, and he complied while making sure she barely felt its weight. “Here, just put it right here. Just get it when you need it back.” Nakyoung carefully placed it on a spot under the counter, out of anyone else’s sight and reach except herself.

The scent of the comfort room was cleaner than he expected. There’s more filth when he and his unit were locked inside a room in the Hwasaengbang for an hour. Compared to that experience, this room was a breath of fresh air, although the smaller space has been getting into his nerves. He couldn’t stay inside for so long, but the presence of Nakyoung made him feel less like he was still at the base for better reasons. Maybe it was the warm and welcoming approach she made towards him that made tonight an early welcoming, how amiable the atmosphere between them had felt. After emptying his bladder on the stall, Junghoon headed to the sink, washing his hands along with most misgivings. This woman was making him feel fluttery. He would’ve probably made an excuse for himself about the lack of encounters with women, but that wasn’t true either, considering some of his fellow recruits and even commanders were women, and not to mention the ones he got acquainted with outside Pyeongtaek, when his friends, old and new, persuaded and dragged him during their first leaves at the approval of their commander. At least, those gave them opportunities to venture out into the outside world from time to time.

A tranquil glance into the mirror gave him a flash of comparison between his past and present. The thickness of his skin on his chin down to neck was no longer present. His figure and muscles have never looked more toned. Maybe this progress gave him more esteem about how people might have perceived him before. Maybe it only lessened his concern about it, knowing his confidence has predated his obstacles. With this, a more stubborn part of him didn’t regret going through all the struggle, agony, and discipline that were instilled on him the moment he enlisted. Even if he already had enough of it.

However, the closeness he was making with Nakyoung was making his hair stand up and almost shiver under his coat and sweater when they exchanged laughter, making him itchy enough to want and take off the latter in the midst of this winter evening. It’s not the first time a woman has ever made him feel like this, hence he shrugged it off and warmed his face by blowing air from his mouth while rinsing the liquid soap with water. Comfort with a friend shouldn’t warrant for someone to expect something more from it.

He turned off the faucet and shook his hands, taking a deeper breath before opening the door. Upon exiting the comfort room, however, what Junghoon was witnessing, the view was less peaceful. Noticing the formal suit and his shaggy hair, presumably between his mid-thirties to early forties, it was a man from a single’s table who instantly latched onto Nakyoung’s wrist, only for her to let herself go in a swift motion. Nevertheless, the scene was more than concerning for Junghoon to get his legs running as fast back to the bar, where Nakyoung mouthed to him not to get involved. Something like this shouldn’t be done nor be tolerated by anyone. If no one else was going to handle this uncomfortable situation, his moral obligation pushed him to do something about it.

“What seems to be the problem here, ahjussi?” he kept his tone as composed, unlike the man he was confronting, who already appeared to be at his breaking point, intoxicated.

“Don’t call me ahjussi…” the older man growled while Junghoon slowly walked closer. “You’ve had this chick’s attention in the last hour… You better know your place—”

“I don’t mind being called that, sir…” With her words, the woman stood for herself and her old friend, crossing her arms and maintaining her face of disappointment. “But the ounce of time and attention I give to someone else shouldn’t be your business.”

“The hell it’s not…” He flaunted his empty glass at her, holding it as if it was some knife. “We pay you to entertain—”

“With all due respect, you mainly pay a bartender like me to give you drinks and listen if you want us to listen to you,” she shot back, intimidated by his sudden aggression. “This may not be a love motel, but I hope you can still watch your tone…”

Junghoon was not the only person who chuckled at her clapback. Most of the patrons let out a cackle from their table while others sneaked in their smiles, but it only lit the spark into the man’s fuse. Junghoon remained on high alert, sensing the temper of the man in the suit fizzing out in real time. And at this right moment, the young man saw him raise his right hand holding his glass like it was a rock. He held onto his wrist before he could charge and get a foot closer to the counter, much to Nakyoung’s shock right as the glass dropped on the floor. All of the patrons turned their heads with sympathy and intrigue.

The glass shattered only in a few pieces, but the enraged drunkard took advantage of the chaos by letting out a rabid scream and raised his other hand in a closed fist. Despite the pandemonium, Junghoon’s other hand caught it in time. “You should… Calm down sir,” he warned him with a compassionate tone amidst this slight struggle between raw rage and concentrated defense exerted through their arms and core, waiting until one gave up without throwing any punch or kick from either man. Nakyoung stayed inside the counter, though she began texting someone on her phone while keeping her gaze of extreme concern for Junghoon, considering the man was a little bit taller than him. Unfortunately for him, Junghoon has carried, fired rifles heavier than his arms. He himself could also do much more than holding him in place. Bend an arm and tackle him into the floor. But he waited, staring at his eyes and quietly examining his spirit.

Feeling himself slowly weakening and overpowered, the older man fell on his knees, but Junghoon slowed his fall into the floor. “I, uh, I underestimated you.” The man let out a weak chuckle, yet his right palm has yet to let go of him. “Young man… Joseonghaeyo.”

Junghoon was perplexed by his somewhat humorous response, but he’d rather simmer things down than worsen the state of the place and the night. “Well, don’t apologize to me, Sir.” He knelt down on one knee, leveling with him. “Apologize to our bartender here and everyone else’s night.”

Covered by his own messy hair, the older man’s parched throat hitched before letting out a muffled whimper, slowly putting both hands on his eyes as he continued to weep louder. As Nakyoung was expecting, the bouncer walked in from the entrance, although he signaled her hand to stay put, allowing Junghoon to gently pat his back while silently asking the bartender for a glass of water for the man to drink. In the following moment, he mumbled about his broken marriage, his strained relationship with his children, and his regrettable infidelities. His tendencies to end it all. The young man sighed with woe.

“Just go home, take a shower, and go to sleep, Sir,” Junghoon advised, making himself more vulnerable, despite everyone else’s harrowing concerns inside the bar, with some literally being at the edge of their seats. “It’ll make most things better in the morning.”

With much less of his aggressive entry, the bouncer escorted the whimpering man to the exit, with Nakyoung handing him his suitcase on their way out before leaving a soft bow.

Getting up from his knees, Junghoon quickly looked at her right wrist. “Gwenchanayo?”

Nakyoung exited the counter with a broom and dustpan on her hands, although her eyes scanned his hands for any signs of scrapes or scratches, failing to hide her relief with her wide smile. “I’m okay… But I’m supposed to ask you that question.”

“I just feel relieved…” He exhaled. “Fuck, I didn’t expect this night to play like this.”

“Me neither, and yet you handle it better than I expected,” she giggled before carefully to sweep the shards of the glass off the floor. “Like, seven hundred times better.”

A guilt-ridden Junghoon tried to offer his help with sweeping the mess, but Nakyoung politely nudged her hands, still using her bartender position as a reason to do this job. “Just using what I’ve learned. Diffusing the situation before it can blow up.”

As if Nakyoung’s respect for him wasn’t already high enough, his actions tonight only elevated it. Perhaps more than that. “Bouncer-oppa didn’t even have to do anything besides escorting him outside, so it’s nice… You did a pretty damn good job.”

Aside from his goal of keeping the woman safe, he simply didn’t see himself in the older man as much as he thought, but the long defeat and hopelessness in his eyes weakened his heart. It’s a loss he wouldn’t want anyone else to go through unless they have done something. “Everyone’s got demons they’re trying to fight, so I’d rather have him deal with it than let him bring it out on everyone else…” He cleared his throat. “But enough about me or that man, because, man, you actually defended yourself there really well.”

“Thanks, but if it makes you feel any better, it’s not the first time someone tried to hit on me,” she hummed, feeling some appreciation for both his deed and compliment. “I was just doing my job. That doesn’t mean I have to be a pushover. Folks have already been getting into fights at the clubs nowadays, so I’d rather keep the silence around here.”

“Yeah, but things have been getting stale in here now ‘cause of the mess he and I made.”

“The mess he made,” she corrected him, based on her personal recollection. “You just defended yourself and talked some sense into him. Folks are bummed ‘cause of him.”

He breathed into his closed fists. “Well, I think I may need a snack… You got some?”

“We got a lot of different chips and sweets inside the pantry. I can get some if you want,” she informed him. “We don’t cook anymore when it’s late ‘cause my uncle’s not around, and two, people don’t just order them here when they can but outside…” She paused for a second. “Which is an excuse we also made up ‘cause we can’t cook shit for customers.”

He only laughed off her self-depracating tone, but he already got an idea to make up the mood he somewhat helped kill. “The snacks would be great, but ummm, if it’s okay with you, do you mind if I help out in the kitchen?”

Nakyoung was enticed. She heard of his reputation from their mutual friends even before his enlistment into service, but she has yet to experience his casual culinary expertise first-hand. “You’re gonna show me your cooking skills during my shift?”

“Show you?” he snickered while cracking his finger joints. “Aniyo. You can watch from the bar if you want, but I want to treat everyone here to some anju, if y’all want some.”

She opened the staff-only door for him. “Really now? You’re up for that challenge?”

Junghoon could see the kitchen from afar. Clean but unoccupied, and it bothered him, weirdly enough. Ever since he sat and drank on the same stool in the past hour, he had been itching to do something productive, especially if it could benefit someone besides himself. He looked back at Nakyoung and nodded. “Consider it a one-night exclusive.”

“Can’t wait…” she played four of her fingers on the wooden exterior of a counter. “Get in the kitchen... I’ll help out as much as I can. Buy you some ingredients that we’re out of.”

She extended her hand, prompting him to walk inside. “Appreciate it…” He told her while looking around the stove. This was still a functioning kitchen. “I’ll pay later–”

“Nonsense... This isn’t why I agreed, Junghoon. Just text me a list of what you need and I’ll head to the market down the street.” Nakyoung stretched her arms and cracked her knuckles before opening the door, leaving it open for a moment as patrons could hear and witness her announcement loud and clear. “Hey, yeorobun… Yeorobun! Just for tonight, my friend here in the kitchen is gonna be cooking a couple of dishes straight from our afternoon menu, so don’t be too shy to ask for some, all right? It’ll be on the house! Additional servings will have to be paid, though, but the first servings are free.”

Most of the patrons raised their bottles and glasses in the air with rejoice, with some gradually filling up the stools while they watched him from the open door. Nakyoung threw an extra apron for Junghoon to wear while he scanned the small kitchen for the necessary tools and equipment, as well as stock of ingredients in the fridge and pantry. Ones unavailable were bought by his sunbae straight from the nearest wet market while they juggled handing out more drinks to customers, with some asking for more servings. 

A couple more new entries from either the same market or elsewhere would join the bar, buying a glass or bottle of drinks just so they could have something to nibble on the side. Throughout the rest of an hour, Junghoon left everyone else in awe and excitement with his rendition of familiar, scrumptious anju that didn’t take long prep and cooking times. From mung bean and scallion pancakes to stir-fried pork belly and blood sausage, both the cook and bartender were able to serve and satisfy the dozen patrons to high praise. Despite working non-stop, Nakyoung herself was also indulging in small nibbles, while Junghoon would shake his head in amusement while carefully holding the sizzling pan with his gloved hand.

“Your boyfriend here knows how to make some classics…” A patron in a construction worker’s vest and sleeves raised his shot glass with commendation alongside his three coworkers. “It’s much tastier than the last pocha we went to. Wah, this is good stuff.”

She expected such a term from a customer, but it still made her giggle. “He’s just an old friend, ahjussi… But he definitely appreciates your praise.”

“A keeper one, that is!” the female coworker beside the man heckled, making him grunt in agreement.

“Yeah!” A man in a coat chimed in from the stool. “Don’t let anyone else get near him.”

“The guy’s already a tough fighter.”

“I’m sure he can be a fine lover too!”

“Guys!” Nakyoung laughed along with the growing conversation, but she still failed to contain everyone’s intriguing gossip from reaching Junghoon’s ears. Not even the oil could deafen it. “It’s great that y’all are constantly praising my friend, but you might make him uncomfortable if he hears you gossiping about him.”

“Back in my day, most of us women just made our move and married off ourselves to soldiers like him, that is if they didn’t make the move first.” An elderly woman added, making Junghoon let out a chuckle from the kitchen the second Nakyoung entered to serve the latest batch of sausage on a platter. “Don’t take them too seriously,” she told him while passing by, but he didn’t know she’s also telling it to herself subconsciously. Meanwhile, Junghoon himself stole a few glances at Nakyoung’s bartending expertise.

“That’s too crass, ahjumma…” Another man in a suit, in his early thirties, countered the old woman, despite essentially sharing the same sentiment. “These youngins gotta take things slow. Know each other better!”

“Hmm…” The elder one shrugged it off and kept her gaze focused on the young woman. “I was just saying, dear. You wouldn’t want to lose someone like him in your life.”

“Well, I do think he’s not going anywhere, and that’s because he’s a great friend.”

“Whatever you say. I just hope you don’t regret it if you lose him to someone else.”

Considering the bar was of the traditional type, the place had to close down not long after midnight. That doesn’t mean they were completely off the building by the time. After Junghoon paid his tab, everyone else had left except for him and Nakyoung. They shared their final drinks of the night after washing the kitchen equipment. However, most of the side dishes he cooked for the customers had no leftovers after they left with full stomachs, and Nakyoung was no different. Her appetite had astonished Junghoon. The woman was now reclining on her chair, like a cat stretching and, strangely, purring after consuming most of the leftovers. Her midnight munching was further amplified with a couple glasses of somaek with him, something that Junghoon finally took the opportunity of pouring her glass to fulfill as her hoobae.

“Daebak… I still can’t believe how good you eat. Like that’s one and a half serving.”

“Hmph,” she pouted. “You got a problem with people liking your food?”

“It’s not that… I’m just saying you’re just not much of a picky eater, which is admirable, but I’m also wondering if you had dinner earlier today.”

“Oh, I ate a whole bibimbap bowl outside before my shift… No need to worry about it. I’m still on a diet these days.”

“Ah, that makes sense.” That’s just how she ate. Unashamed and passionate like it was a form of art. At least, that’s how he described it from his eyes and tipsy mind. The woman simply eats well as she drinks, and it was another feat that made him admire her.

“Compared to you cooking up multiple units at your camp, it must be a relief that you only cooked for less than a dozen customers tonight. Still, you didn’t have to feed our customers tonight… There are still food stalls and pochas right outside for a reason.”

“I know, but I also don’t mind.” He shrugged off her concern. “I’m just glad I was able to feed some empty stomachs. Call me a suck-up if you want, I just gave everyone free food just tonight… Well, except for the ones who paid, but most of them got a meal for free.”

“I think it’s very thoughtful,” she cooed, lightly patting her knuckle on his shoulder. “And it’ll probably level up everyone’s expectations once they come back tomorrow.”

“Nothing wrong with cooking something simple, so don’t be too pressured about it.”

“Hmm… I’m not pressured about it myself,” she admitted, emanating content and appreciation by his presence and efforts to help out tonight, even if it’s going to be a one-time thing. “But my cousins probably will be once they find out during their shift.”

“They’ll be fine,” he reassured her, crossing his arms. “Stir-fried food isn’t meant to be too hard… You got all the basic stuff here, so that should be a start. You can boil some pork for bossam or cook up a basic jjigae for another upgrade.”

Her lips made a “Pfft…” But she was impressed by his skills. “Easy for you to say, Chef.”

Junghoon fixed his hair, even though it was still faded, to make himself look confident. “I can teach you sometimes.”

She examined his facial features. “Is that what makes you a winner in women’s eyes?”

The shift in her discussion made him bobble his head sideways, but he tried his best to go along since it was a fascinating subject. “In what way?” Her eyes locked into his lips. She didn’t drink as much after her shift, but she’s still lost her own thoughts about him.

“You show folks your skills. You fight, you cook, and you respect and try to understand someone… Like, how can anyone not stick to you?” she whined like she was hyping him up and spewing her disappointment at him at the same time. “Are you that dense, Geum Junghoon? Or is everyone else?”

Her bluntness was making him shiver throughout his spine, but he kept his shoulders straight while her fingers trailed on his arms. “Maybe I am that dense. I’m not the best at noticing those certain things, but I appreciate it when someone brings them up.” He had one past relationship and another encounter, but those were it. “I may know some stuff, in general… But I think I still need to learn a few more things about women.”

The woman realized Junghoon was neither a bad boy nor was he a pushover, like he was another type of guy that she rarely encountered. Following her own impulse, Nakyoung leaned closer, crashing her lips into Junghoon’s. His eyes widened for two seconds, but her lips, her scent and touch were tantalizing, he closed them to indulge in the pleasure he was getting from this moment, sharing it with her. Her lips and saliva tasted better than the better she served him hours earlier, even though he was also tasting it now.

“Maybe it’s my turn to teach you a few things tonight,” she mumbled boldly to him.

Aside from her new look, Nakyoung’s naughtiness paralyzed Junghoon at this moment, despite his body already reciprocating her lustful yearning for him through the burning sensation within him. “Are you sure?” he asked, keeping his index finger under her chin and his thumb under her lower lip, tempted to go for another despite his logical doubts.

She caressed his cheek, warming him up more, but she knew she had limits. They might have shown their actions, but their words have yet to seal the deal. “Mmm-hmm… I am. If you are, too.”

Closing his eyes at the same second, Junghoon solidified his reciprocation by kissing her the second time with abandon. Within seconds, his tongue dilly-dallied on her lips, until she opened for his entry. While their lips were smacking and tongues were dancing with graceful rhythm, Nakyoung was the first one to submit to their libidinal inquisitiveness by sliding her hand on his chest down to his abdomen, following her hunch for his six pack, as she discovered it. Sensing Junghoon’s shivers through the vibrations of their lips, Nakyoung broke their kiss and giggled while catching her breath. “Mianhae,” she muttered. If the exchange of their saliva wasn’t enough, their breaths were also fuel for their lust for each other the longer their foreheads rested on each other in this armistice.

He began to pepper kisses on the woman’s neck, inciting a yelp from her. “Don’t be…” She muffled her moans, prolonging and deepening them in the process, while still fully cognizant of where they were. Even if they’re inside the staff-only room. “Go ahead,” he encouraged, making her move her fingers on his abdomen once again. Junghoon started leaving hickeys through the sounds of his lips, making Nakyoung bite her lip at the same second she began inspecting and trailing her hands on his stomach like it was a precious jewelry that she was willing to own for herself until she leaned her lips on his once more.

“I guess there is one thing I have yet to eat tonight,” she purred, gripping onto his bulge, already rock hard for her touch. Even until this point, her wit would’ve made him laugh, but he could only groan at how she was able to take control of his body with her smooth movement. He didn’t doubt her being an expert, hence he let her kneel down in front of him, while she unzipped his pants. “Seolma… I never expected it to be this big…” For a simple test, Nakyoung gave his junior a few kisses, starting down his testicles up to his tip, slowly hearing the reaction she had hoped from him: giggles in-between groans as he arched his neck backwards and back leaning on the chair like a king being pleasured.

Finding his ‘pleasure receptors’ to be perfectly “functioning,” she shook her head with a snicker and licked her lips sideways, cracking her neck joints and maintaining her focus on the tip of his hard standing manhood. She let out a purr and made sure that he could face her the second she gave him a wink, playfully telling him, “Jal meokgesseumnida.”

An enlivened Junghoon heaved with laughter, but his amusement was cut short right as she opened her mouth as wide as she could. The man held in his anticipation while she took him in, slowly and surely. Feeling his tip reach her throat within seven seconds, Nakyoung started to bob her head on his manhood, moving up and down while her fingers massaged his balls at the same time, slowly being lubricated by the saliva drooling out of her mouth. “That’s really, ugh, good, Naky… Fuck, augh—” The moans leaving Junghoon’s made him clench his teeth, only to loosen up as seconds pass the more surges of pleasure spread throughout his nether regions,going up to his spine. This was merely a blowjob, and yet Nakyoung’s prowess was already making him lightheaded in the best feeling imaginable. Maybe it’s simply the fact that he hasn’t felt a woman’s touch for a long time or that the alcohol was slowly taking its effect, but this paralysis of pleasure was reaching its peak within several minutes of their slurping and moaning, making him feel like his shaft was being sucked on by a hot and wet vacuum cleaner.

The same build up in his body was slowly accumulating from his balls up to his member. Junghoon couldn’t help but hold his right palm on her head, with his left arm anchoring and wrapping on the chair’s head as his legs were stretching between Nakyoung, his toes wrangling inside his shoes while delaying his climax with all willpower, only for a quick perception to remind him not to fight against his primal feelings, and more importantly, against the exemplary service she was providing him now. If he wanted this tonight to become more, for him to pleasure her, he had to give in to the power of her masterful mouth. And so, Junghoon felt his climax reaching its finish line, he gave three thrusts that made Nakyoung moan in surprise and intrigue. She was about to receive his warm and thick seed, and her impatience only accelerated her bobbing until his fingers began to claw into her hair as Junghoon’s final thrusts finally triggered an eruption inside her piehole, going straight into Nakyoung’s tongue and flooding down her throat. This was one trigger he had yet to have full discipline over.

Despite having done the least movement between them, Junghoon was also almost out of breath, but gratified by her valiant effort nonetheless, especially when she swallowed  his seed with a long and loud gulp. “Miss Kim, you are wild.” He fixed her hair while she inched closer to his right knee, humming with satisfaction at her final feast of the night.

Resting her head on his thigh while he gently caressed her, Nakyoung kept some of her seductive spirit alive through her voice to tease him. “You don’t know half of it.”

He wanted to lean down and kiss her as a form of reward or simply gratitude, but they heard three knocks on the entrance doors. It was locked, but the loud voice of a woman that followed only made Nakyoung stand up and wipe her mouth with a paper towel on the dining table, making Junghoon follow her pace as he pulled up his undies and pants and kept himself watchful at the entrance as Nakyoung unlocked the staff door to holler out “Jamsimanyo!” with a polite yet compelling tone.

“Who’s that?” Junghoon whispered. “Did your bouncer friend forget something here?”

“Aniya.” She noticed him slightly shivering. “It’s just a patrol officer. They often visit at this hour. You stay here for a bit…” She gave his shoulder a light pat. “Relax…”

“Oh…” He gave himself a deep breath and straightened his posture. “Okay, sure.”

“And, umm, I still have to close this place,” she added, informing him with a coy tone. “But… If you don’t mind waiting, my apartment isn’t too far away from here.” Slowly, she pursed her lips, but her smile was already noticeable from his view. He’s not the only one feeling lucky tonight.

Rather than staying still inside the kitchen as told, he began organizing the equipment he used back to their proper storage. “No need to rush… You can talk to the officer. I’ll help clean up the kitchen.” There was nothing to be ashamed of having some little fun.

After apologizing to the patrol officer and letting her inspect the area, she even saluted Junghoon after finding out his status, the pair spent five more minutes closing the bar. As Nakyoung told him, it took the three blocks of playfully chasing and following each other’s path on the pavement before they finally reached Naky’s apartment. While still latching onto his moist lips, Nakyoung allowed Junghoon’s hand to drop his bag on the floor next to the couch, giving him more access to her naughty mouth for another round.

Parting herself from his clutches, Nakyoung gave the signal to undress their own clothes in front of each other with an excited grin, as Junghoon understood they were mentally competing against each other on who gets to strip down and jump on the other first. It was Junghoon who deliberately slowed himself down, stripping to his underwear after Nakyoung had tossed away her shirt and pants on the floor, stunning the man with her curvaceous body, still covered by her black bra and panties when she galloped towards him. Junghoon braced himself as she hurled herself like a projectile, lips first colliding with his. On this cold, winter night, the pair only have each other’s warmth to provide. The woman wrapped her legs around his waist with her arms around his neck, helping him carry her body as their mingling bodies guided them all the way to the open door of her bedroom. She gave him a little push so he could land themselves on her bouncy bed. 

Falling on his back on the mattress, Nakyoung did not hold back, keeping her lips locked and tangled with Junghoon, whom she had pinned down. She’s a ferocious big cat, and the man’s her meaty prey. Her hunger began on mainly his lips, now spreading down to his cheek, neck, and clavicle through her licks and kisses, which Junghoon had also been craving to taste from her once the tables had turned, if they even would turn, tonight.

“You know,” he mumbled. “You can’t… be the only one… who has gotten a taste…”

“So,” she exhaled with anticipation, keeping herself composed. “What do you propose?”

Before he could think, this position had already given him the answer. “Sit on my face.”

Astonished by his boldness, Nakyoung took her panties off right top of him, blindly throwing it behind with her gaze focused on him. Junghoon could only hum with arousal while she inched herself closer and closed the gap of her thighs between his head, giving his mouth the perfect angle of aligning with her already wet cunt. She held both hands onto the headboard, slightly bending her upper body forward for a better reach, while Junghoon gripped her legs like rollercoaster restraints. Nevertheless, he still had to begin, once she leaned down and whispered, “Ready when you are.”

Inching his head until his mouth made contact with her vulva, Junghoon began planting a few kisses. Giggles and hisses left the woman’s mouth, realizing she’s reacting just like him when she sucked him off. In her case, however, her folds have begun receiving the slithering movement of his tongue, prompting her to tighten her grip on the headboard while relishing on it moving from down to upwards. Junghoon was now getting his first taste of her nectars. Without completely giving all the weight of her bottom on his chest, Nakyoung slowly rocked herself back and forth, grinding on his moving mouth like she’s also imagining it being on his cock. “Good… boy,” she moaned, unbeknownst to her that her own soft encouragement and movement, complemented by the scent of her cunt and bottom, has once again made Junghoon’s cock rock harder.

And yet, he didn’t want her to turn around, as much as the idea intrigued him. This round was meant all for her, as she had pleased him earlier. While almost restrained, this position didn’t stop him from massaging her buttcheeks with both hands and fingers inches apart from each other, kneading them like dough. Nakyoung bent her back a little further with her moans growing louder, now salivating as two major stimulations were slowly taking over her body the longer she kept grinding on his face at a faster pace.

Junghoon started breathing through his nostrils, taking in her intoxicating scent before widening the gap of his mouth between her folds, giving his tongue a chance to reach up to her clit, amplifying her yelps, increasing the ammunition of her one-word praises and muffled curses the longer pleasure was building up within her, under the sound of his consistent slurps. While her head was facing above, Nakyoung’s eyes started rolling to the back of her head, letting herself wail with delight by opening her mouth and sticking her tongue out. She couldn’t hold herself any longer, feeling the pressure breaking free.

“Baby, fuuuck!” The woman grinded three more times before coming to a full stop and shivering once she released a stimulating cry into the ceiling until her voice gave out in pure libidinal bliss. Her juices finally left her nethers, squirting and spilling down on the man’s face like a broken dam, from his mouth to the bridge of his nose. As her legs still shivered, her ecstatic ascension to paradise only lasted about three to four seconds, but it quickly dwindled down while she caught her breath, resting her forehead close to the headboard. They would have to take things to the next level for it to be much longer.

Nakyoung got herself off his face, her remaining essence dripping on the mattress as she landed next to him, her crotch still leveling with his head. But upon finding Junghoon’s face splattered with her juices, she immediately got up from the bed and reached for a couple sheets of napkin on the desk next to the door, wiping the puddle of fluid off of Junghoon’s face, to his appreciation while they’re both sitting down on the bed.

Nakyoung whispered her compliments to him, questioning his experience right until she eventually spotted his standing cock, still hindered by the fabric of his blue underwear. “You were hard all this time?” she questioned him, her pitch slowly raising. The belated realization made her sigh. “Man, I should’ve faced the other way around.” She gave him a peck on his cheek. A gesture she made from her own subconscious. “Mianhae.”

“Gwenchanayo,” he assured, slowly holding her hands and leaning in to savor her lips, something she also couldn’t get enough of. Their bodies rolled until Junghoon was now on top of Nakyoung, keeping his weight from completely falling on her body with his hands. Their chests hugged tightly, him feeling her breasts. This tempting sensation sparked a sense of intrusive regret in his mind, mirroring Nakyoung’s a few seconds earlier. He probably should have been on the bottom earlier. Still, the woman had her hand holding onto his crotch again as if it was going to fall, but she was simply getting impatient. Junghoon signaled her help in taking off his undies, which she dropped to her right, falling on the carpet next to the bed. “You got condoms?” he quickly asked.

“I got some. Inside the night stand,” she pointed to her right. Junghoon quickly got off their intimate position and inched closer with his knees to open up the drawer, finding one pack of condom packets. “You’ve been this intimate with other men?” he wondered while putting it on. Not judgmental, but rather curious due to his own adrenaline rush.

“Not just men,” she admitted with a smug smirk, something that only made him chuckle and inch closer to her lips, which she hungrily welcomed as she placed her hand on the top of his head, clenching onto his head. During this makeout session, the tip of his cock kept colliding with her still wet vulva, inciting scatters of moans and chuckles from each other’s mouths while their tongues clashed, tasting traces of their own meals and drinks, from the spices-filled savoriness of the stir-fried pork to the bitter and sweet beer & soju.

Even with her eyes closed, Nakyoung took the chance to unlock her bra, although not from the back, a special sight that left Junghoon speechless when he opened his eyes and extended his arms to look at her. “Holy…” he wheezed in disbelief at the size of her breasts. It might not be the largest pair he has seen from any woman, but the chance of being able to touch one of the largest ones was further fueling his curiosity about her.

“Eat up,” she encouraged him, resting her arms on the bed. With a breathy smile, Junghoon dug his face between her breasts with his lust-fueled mouth deploying his tongue to taste the woman's smooth and salty skin. He inched closer to her left nipple, giving her areola soft kiss while his left hand gently grasped onto her right mound. He noticed the mark of what appeared to be small wounds on her nipples. “Does it hurt?” he had to ask, despite his concerns contrasting the hollers of pleasure from her mouth.

“Not… aaugghhh… Not at all. Please keep going,” she kept twitching and groaning at his lips now focusing on her right tit. Moreover, she already saw him taking a slight pause. “I guess, umm, you, uh, noticed them, right? It’s where the piercings were.”

“Yeah…” he chuckled, continuing his massages and peppers of kisses on both breasts while she squirmed. “It would’ve been… pretty cool to see them… To be honest.”

“Stop… it,” she shook her head, having failed to predict his remark, but still enthralled by his faultless performance so far. “Fuck, you’re, uhh, good… Auuggghhh!”

“I’m serious,” he doubled down before leaning his lips to give her left tit a brief suck, making her yelp and chuckle. “It’s cool, but, umm, it must’ve hurt putting them on.”

“A little bit,” she confessed, showing a small gap between her index finger and thumb. “But it’s worth it…” She felt comfortable telling it to him. “I’m a curious girl, you know?”

“I can tell.” They both laughed at his banter, right as the magnets on their lips activated.

“Okay, that’s enough,” she patted his thigh and inches closer to his left ear. “I need you inside me.” That moment shut his eyes, as another wave of shivers went down his spine. He gave her two quick kisses on her lips and chin before his fingers went down her cunt, making her let out stimulated moans that have now become a delightful tune to his ears.

“Wait…” she stopped him, and herself from reacting. “Not there. Not yet.” He surmised she was still “recuperating” from the face-sitting earlier. Even a teasing touch from his three fingers felt sensitive for her. He instantly understood that she needed more time, but her hands would redirect his fingers to another hole. His eyes only widened. Her asshole? “We can do something else, if you want,” she advised him with a soothing tone, sensing the uncertainty on his face. “I just need to give my other hole a little break.”

“It’s just…” He paused for a second, but he realized that by the end of the night, they’re still friends. “I haven’t done this before... But I want to do it, Naky-yah.” There was no point in hiding it. Just because he was hesitant, that did not mean he was against it.

However, she let out a giggle, not of mockery, but appreciation for his honesty. “I’m glad, Junghoon-ah.” She caressed his left cheek. “I’ll guide you from behind… Okay?” Junghoon took a few inches backwards before Nakyoung bent down on her knees and held her hands on the headboard once again, wiggling her butt to entice him further, as if the combination of her butt, legs, and her wide grin wasn’t enough to make him drool.

After taking a deep breath, he inched himself and slowly pushed his cock inside her hole, expecting Nakyoung’s groans to continue in a louder volume while he kept pushing. “Jebal, just keep… goiiiiiiingghh!” she begged at the same time the man was feeling half of his member inside her tunnel as it tightened around him with every breath she took. Nakyoung was already shivering out of both tension and stimulation, but there was no pain throughout what she was feeling.

He knew it wasn’t the first time for her, but that also made him extra cautious, as he and his cock were curious. Little was he aware, not only has Nakyoung’s intrusive side been craving for someone to enter her asshole since the last time she experienced it, but she had also been training herself for a night she never expected would come sooner. With her brief and concise instructions, Junghoon aligned his throbbing, still wet member with Nakyoung’s hole and inched himself closing their distance seconds. The simple feeling of getting poked by his tip made her bite her lower lip to muffle her noises, before encouraging him to keep going inside. Junghoon reached his right hand, which Nakyoung took by instinct, intertwining their fingers.

As he felt the end of his shaft next to her stretched slit, both parties reached a standstill, giving them a moment to brace themselves for the next step. Junghoon slowly flexed his muscles, including his erect cock, and began to thrust his hips inside her clenching hole. Similar to how he would do it inside someone’s vagina, he gradually quickened his pace and rhythm inside this tighter hole. Digging her face on the mattress, Nakyoung slowly clenched all her fingers, both around Junghoon’s and the headboard, going along with the impact of his continual thrusts, allowing her wails of ecstasy to muffle through the bed until her throat tired out. Junghoon grunted through the rhythm of his hips, feeling his rubber-clothed manhood move inside her back and forth, slowly sensing the same stimulating build-up inside him when she was sucking him off within several minutes.

The lingering discomfort he had from the mere idea of anal sex from earlier has now converted into pleasure. She turned her head to the right with her tongue sticking out, undoubtedly inviting Junghoon to stretch his neck and devour her mouth with his own. Their lips and tongues clashed while their nethers kept grinding against each other, and combined with Nakyoung placing Junghoon’s hand under her right breast, their layers of stimulation arose from minutes to seconds. The woman could hear herself squirting down her cunt, prompting her to part her lips from him to catch her breath and let her moans reach her partner’s ear louder and clearer. Such sounds were enough to give him the final thrusts until the accumulation of his semen had swum up and pushed to his tip, finally climaxing inside the condom with one heavy howl on the top of his lungs.

Nakyoung wiggled a few inches away from the headboard and finally lied down on the bed completely. After pulling it as slow as he could, Junghoon adjusted to his left before he landed on the bed. Still, the former didn’t let her hand go off him, yearning to feel his chest respire on top of her back. Much to his surprise, he wasn’t as heavy as he thought. He felt at ease resting next to her, sweat and all. As they both calmed down, Nakyoung slowly turned around to face Junghoon, just so she could retain some familiarity to his lips. She broke their kiss almost thirty seconds later, the man’s forehead resting on hers. “You mind if… we wash ourselves… A little bit first?”

“Of course…” He backed off, inching away from her to sit on the bed. “Take your time.”

“You can head in first, if you want,” she suggested. “You really don’t need to take long.”

Both had the thought of inviting each other inside the shower, but the bed was their own ideal battleground for tonight. They’ve sat and stood long enough at the bar for them not to relish in the comfort and easiness of Nakyoung’s bed, where they could let all loose all night long, as long as their breaths and bodies willed it. As soon as the woman exited the bathroom, she walked straight to her room to find Junghoon waiting for her with a soft smile. No phone in his hand or anything, just curious about her bedroom, although his clothes and bag were in the living room. Somewhat touched by his patience, Nakyoung wrapped her arms around him in an appreciative embrace, closing her eyes while he snuggled on her chest without any words from either of their mouths. But this wasn’t a romantic date. Their touch slowly burned back into a tension, one that pulled their lips back to each other in no time. A moment that made his flaccid cock harder in seconds.

Pulling her into the bed so she could lie on her back, Junghoon broke their kiss and was about to reach into the nightstand, but Nakyoung gently held his wrist. “No need… I’m on the pill,” she clarified. A clueless Junghoon only nodded with a slight snicker. He realized that it seemed like he was already lucky from the beginning. “It’s time, Junghoon-ah…” She gave him a quick tease, spreading her legs and folds apart with her fingers while sticking her tongue out for him to see. “I bet you’re familiar with this one.”

He snortled with closed lips. She wasn’t wasting time. “Let’s see if I still got it.” And neither should he. Now having more familiarity with this kind of situation, Junghoon crawled closer to Nakyoung to close their distance until his tip had met the hole he had been hoping to enter all night from the second they entered this apartment. While he was slow with his approach, his entry through his pussy was far smoother and stickier compared to her asshole. It gave him the lube to keep going, despite his girth needing a thrust to go further.

Nakyoung could only muffle herself with the back of her left hand, unable to repress her moans, as in the field of sex, they were as essential as breathing. A reaction to the stimulating object entering and stretching her insides the longer he took, she instinctively wrapped her legs around him like a boa constrictor. Like earlier, a brief standstill occurred once his tip had reached its limit, and it gave Junghoon the trigger to take a breath and start thrusting inside her with his renewed stamina.

The stronger she bounced and moaned with abandon, Nakyoung raised her voice, yet retained her shameless tone just so she could ask him. “Have I… Been… a good girl?” Although her voice was already alluring to Junghoon’s ears, she placed her palm on his left butt cheeks, giving him a tight yet stimulating squeeze that made him moan loudly.

“Aniya,” he retaliated, deepening his voice with a grunt while accelerating his assertive hips against her. “You’re, unhn, fucking, hnnnngghhh, a bad girl… Kim Nakyoung.” He gave the side of her right hip one quick slap, hoping it would reach her ass cheek as well. The bbubb—baddest!” Missionary might’ve been his default position, but doing it with a feisty and more experienced woman like Nakyoung made his heart race faster than ever. The flexibility in her legs and the endurance of her body gave him some upgrades he never knew was possible.

She looked to the ceiling from feeling an electrifying surge coming from her bottom, giving Junghoon another opportunity to lean down and not just kiss, but lick the sweat off her neck while she processed his playful words and enthusiastic slap. “That’s, ungh, right… I am! Nggghh… So bad.” She was feeling lightheaded as her vigor was running thin. “And you’re so…gooood!” Thankfully for him, Junghoon was catching up to her.

Halfway through their climax, Nakyoung muffled her moans into determined grunts. She was itching to switch things up, so mustered some of her strength and suggested something to Junghoon. He listened with his body, efficiently helping Nakyoung rise without pulling out of her as if they were stuntmen. Their position has been changed, with both people leveling each other while still keeping up with their grinds against each other’s groins. Wrapping her arms around him, Nakyoung’s more balanced and graceful grindings complementing the rawer and forceful thrusts of Junghoon has become this pair’s perfect combination in order to quicken their mutual objective. The joint pace and rhythm of their bodies has reached harmonious synchrony, creating miniature chaos to their surroundings as the bed squeaked louder. Thankfully, it could handle worse.

“You’re actually a good—” As his legs began to tire out, he struggled to complete his final word. “Girl! Mgh!” His tone lightened up the more pressure had gathered in his genitals. This position had also given him the chance to taste her juicy lips, rewarding her for making his night while making sure that his thrusts make her bounce with delight.

“Ne!” Nakyoung cheered, unabashed with her sudden tone of submission towards him. While still bouncing on him, she leaned a little backwards, placed her left hand on her left tit and showed them to Junghoon, and through his primal urges, he sucked on it without hesitation, making Nakyoung dig her chin on his left shoulder while letting herself loose through crazed whimpers and unintelligible high praises. Not long after, the growing intensity of his pounding made her dig her nails down his skin.

Junghoon had only felt a miniscule of pain from her nails, as the dominant pleasure drove him to such as much as he could, until the build-up in his shaft made him stop. “You’re, nnngggh, breath…taking…” he added, rasping more through his movement.

At this point, the continuous thrusting of his cock and bouncing has already reached multiple sensitive spots inside Nakyoung’s cunt, from her opening all the way through her cervix, which his tip kept on bumping. “Soo… Are… Yooaaaaugghhh! Junghoon-ah,” she started begging. “Imma—Fuck me… I’m cloooooose!” Despite her lust fueling her to keep going, her mind knew it was getting too much for her body to handle. With the last ounce of strength in her throat, she pleaded for Junghoon to do it inside. Luckily for her, the man was also close. His thrusts slowed down so he could put his hand on her chin to give her a soft kiss. Nakyoung closed her eyes and invaded his mouth with her tongue, focusing on the sense of comfort he provided her as they reached their final stop.

Three more slow yet firm thrusts from him, and the woman let her juices break free with her orgasm. Junghoon came a split second after her, bursting his cum inside her womb. In this standstill, both partners kept each other tight and warm with their arms around each other. Their heads rested on each other’s, sharing each other’s breath and admiring each other’s beauty in the afterglow of their battle. Nakyoung gave him one more kiss to seal their success for the night. Unbeknownst to Junghoon, that was her way of saying thank you. “Still got it, I guess,” he surmised right as he pulled out of her, leaving the remainder of his seed dripping on the cover.

Still catching her breath with him, Nakyoung exhaled a louder laugh at his realization. They still got a few more juices left in them, but a couple more rounds after that, they could only listen to their bodies’ pleas to settle down and lie still in silence, huddling against each other and dozing off until the night skies would brighten up into dawn.

= = =

It was six o’clock in the morning. He didn’t need to hear it, but the sound of the wake-up calls of their commander still echoed through his brain, as it has in the last four hundred days. He still had a lot more days to go, but today’s silence was such a whiplash for him.

Nakyoung stopped snoring, finding his neck hovering off his pillow. “You’re not at your base, dude,” she mumbled, caressing his chest. “Relax…”

“I figured,” he chuckled with relief, inching himself backwards so he could recline on the headboard. Carefully, he took the rheum off of his eyes with his left hand, wiping it on himself. “I, uh, just haven’t gotten used to it.”

“Yeah, well… Now that your panic’s out of the way, you wanna stay for a bit?”

A sense of hesitation made Junghoon blink a few times, considering if there was something more from their wild and passionate night. “Hmm…”

“You know, this doesn’t have to get complicated, Junghoon-ah…” But she sensed it from his expression. “We just had a lot of fun last night.” It’s not the first time she’s seen that from someone, but Junghoon’s a dear friend. She was not letting that go when they still had something important to treasure beyond the ‘carnal element,’ something they only discovered last night. “And you’re a dear friend to me.”

He rested his head back on the pillow. “Yeah, I couldn’t agree more… It was great.”

“Which one?” She always has a habit of making sure she doesn’t fool herself. And him.

However, he understood her sound explanation quite well. “You as a friend… And the sex.” He wanted to thank her directly, but perhaps this should suffice.

“Mmm-hmm,” she giggled. She wiggled closer to his head, retaining her closed smile. “I know it’s still super early, but do you want to have ramyeon for breakfast?”

His eyebrow raised at her phrasing. “Is that meant to be a euphemism or..?”

“That’s up to you to decide…” Nakyoung straddled him, making him hold onto her hips. Their faces were once again only inches apart. Their noses clashing as their lips waited. “We don’t have all day,” she insinuated, before closing her eyes as they kissed sweetly, indifferent to the morning breath in favor of their remaining lust for each other.

The whole night and throughout this morning, he has almost forgotten he was at his base. Jogging. Marching. Firing. Tackling. Being tackled. Cooking. Washing. Sleeping. Tolerating loud noises. Reading. Contemplating. He had also been doing most of those routines outside his service. With this being one of the exceptions, he took advantage of hanging out with his friends as much as he could, and meeting new ones when he could. The year had only begun.

After washing up and leaving Nakyoung’s place more than an hour after breakfast, Junghoon packed up and took another bus to his neighborhood. On his ride home, he received a couple of texts from the only person who was aware of his punctual arrival.

[Naky-sunbae]: Junghoon-ah! Hope you got home safely. Thanks for helping out at the bar. I owe you one. And you know… After that, ㅎㅎㅎ Don't hesitate to visit again after your discharge. Drinks will be on the house! Till next time, Sergeant! Hwaiting! 𖹭 ≽ - ˕ •マゞ

Junghoon only let out a chortle. He knew that Nakyoung didn’t even owe him or had to owe him anything, but the simple profession of thanks from her warmed his heart. He typed his replies not long before he arrived at the stop.

Walking silently to his old neighborhood, the faces and voices of his familiar neighbors quietly cheered on and welcomed his arrival as he walked past the nearby markets, corner stores, and residences. It was still early in the morning, after all.

“Oppa!” Of course, one face among them was more familial to him as it was familiar, and her voice was the loudest of them all.

“Soomin-ah…” Junghoon’s little cousin waited from the gate of his home for the longest time. Their late grandmother’s and his late parents’ boarding house. Walking to her, he accepted her warm hug. “You’re here early… Imo and sachon aren’t even here yet.”

“Legally, it’s still our boarding house,” she shot back while their embrace broke off. “I can just go here even without my parents, you know?”

“Next year, it won’t be,” he reminded her. “That’s why your parents got you a dorm.”

She pouted, extending her arms wide. “It’s not as cozy as the house. Not as spacious!”

A little overreaction, but he knew he couldn’t relate. “You slept here for like, one night.”

“Twelve nights,” she corrected, including the times she slept over after her first visit. When he was at the military camp. “I’ll probably treat it as a guest house, you know?”

“Do what you want,” Junghoon chortled as they walked through the house gate. “Anyways, how’s college so far?”

From that moment, it wasn’t easy for the young man to stop spilling her words to him. Nevertheless, there wasn’t an ounce of irritation or annoyance in his emotions. Not in this mood, anyways. He couldn’t be any happier to be back, even for a short while.

In the following days, momentous news was announced to their unit. They were going to be transferred back to Seoul State University, finally authorized by their institution and their camp’s highest commanders for their students to complete the remainder of their service on campus for the next six months, or less depending on how long they finish. Junghoon had already finished by then, graduating college by June.

After that morning, Junghoon and Nakyoung saw and went out with different people during their phases of exploration. And yet, their friendship persevered and solidified over time. It was a friendship that might come off as scandalous to most who became aware, but it was productive and pragmatic. Free of strings, at least when they were free of any committed and romantic relationships. It was something that both of them could benefit from one another, behind the sheets, or anywhere else they met. When times got tougher, it would only take them a text or call away from loosening themselves up.

= = =

There's no doubt that I may have gotten inaccuracies with the whole mandatory service system thing. I did my best to research it along with some creative liberties, since you know, it's still fiction (au).

If you may find a lot of stuff here familiar, I'll clarify that this takes place after Our Story, Like a Romance Novel Ch. 6 and before the events of A Cold Summer Fling, except for the short epilogue. Like the latter story, I intended this to be readable and understood as a standalone one-shot, but they're still connected because same universe and all that shenanigans.

——

A minute later and you’re at the water cooler. You lean down, grab a plastic cup and pour yourself some water. You drink another. And another. You feel hot and dizzy, Sohyun’s teasing still on your mind.

How did she know about your crush? There’s no way she did all that and not know about it. You grip the edge of the cooler. She always knows.

You stand straight, loosening your tie before gulping down another cup. You stay at the cooler for a few more minutes, hoping by the time you’re back at your desk, Xinyu’s gone. Hope that Sohyun shuts up and does some work for once.

Your prayers weren’t answered.

You hear her before she comes into view—laughing, voice pitched low. An intern stammers something. Files hit the floor. You turn and look. She’s crouched beside the intern, handing them the files one by one. Then she ruffles their hair.

She stands back up and approaches the water cooler.

“Enjoying the show?”

You don’t answer, choosing to read the endless number of flyers on the board instead.

She stands in front of you, grabs her own cup before drinking.

You shouldn’t look. You do anyway. How she tilts her head further back than normal, the way her throat bobs after every swallow. You look lower, the top buttons of her shirt undone, her loosened tie hangs crooked.

You hear a little laugh—low, barely audible. She’s watching you stare out the corner of her eye, a smirk plastered on her face.

You walk off before she can say anything.

——

You look down at the clock on your computer screen.

7pm.

Most of the workers have left for the day. Just you and Park Sohyun.

You stretch your arms above your head, a small sound escaping your mouth. You remove the headphones before rubbing your eyes. With deadlines approaching, you’ve been spending more late nights at the office, crunching numbers, creating diagrams.

You stand, wobbling a bit. Your legs must’ve fallen asleep from the hours in front of your screen. You grab your coat and your bag, ready to leave.

“Hey, can you help me with this?”

You close your eyes. The elevators were right there.

But something pulls you back. Obligation. Stupidity.

You sigh loudly. Let your head drop and trudge over.

“Something doesn’t look right on the spreadsheet.”

You lean, hovering over her shoulders, checking her work. You scroll up and down. Looking for the mistakes she made. Ignoring the scent of her perfume surrounding you.

“There,” you say, circling the problem with the mouse, “the equation is wrong. It’s supposed to be this.” You lean down fixing the equation and watch how the spreadsheet corrects itself.

“My saviour,” she props her chin on her hand, watching you like you’re a puzzle to solve.

You keep your eyes on the screen.

“Is that it?”

She nods her head slightly.

You’re halfway to the elevators when she calls for you.

“Wait for me.”

You ignore her. Press the button to call the elevator. When it arrives, you enter quickly, press for the ground floor and push the close button. Again and again.

Her hand catches the door.

“Wow. You’re fucking rude.”

You ignore her comment and step to the side.

The journey to the ground floor feels like hours.

From the corner of your eye, you see her reach up. The clip comes out. She shakes her hair loose, then turns toward you.

You don’t make eye contact. But the doors are polished steel. You see her anyway—tucking her hair behind her ear, leaning back against the railing.

“You like Xinyu? She’s too good for you,” she says, tilting her head to get a better look at your face, at your reaction. “She’s got a nice body, I’ll give her that. Long legs. Pretty smile.” She pauses, eyes flicking to yours in the reflection. “That round—“

You turn, facing her. “What are you doing?”

She bites her bottom lip. Pushes off the railing and steps closer. Too close.

“It’s fun teasing you.”

You stare at her. What the hell is she talking about?

“You act all high and mighty. Act like whatever I do is beneath you, that it doesn’t affect you,” she plays with your tie, twirling it around her finger. “But I think there’s more. I think you enjoy it and I’m starting to wonder how long before you break.”

The door opens suddenly. She walks out without another word. Heels tapping against the tile—sharp and even. You’re still standing there, breathing too hard.

——

You walk along the streets of Seoul in the early morning, weaving through people as you get to work. It’s cold. Your coat doing little against the winter wind, hands trembling.

You enter the building, pausing to warm your hands. You wait for the elevator. Bow to a coworker. And another. You’re not really seeing them.

You smell her before you see her. She’s beside you. Of course she is.

The elevator door opens. You get in quickly, aiming for the back before she follows. More people start filing in, pushing you into a corner.

She’s in front of you. Facing you.

The elevator begins its ascent. She shifts, pressing against you—just slightly. She’s watching your face. You breathe in. Stare at the ceiling panel, the lights, anything.

Her hand finds your forearm. Squeezes. Firmly. You look down. You don’t want to. But you do anyway.

Your vision blurs at the edges. It’s her face—sharp and clear.

Hair pulled up in a high ponytail, exposing her face, making it harder to look away from. Glasses sliding down her nose. She’s looking at you over her frames.

Your breath catches. She licks her lips—slow, deliberate.

This isn’t teasing anymore.

Maybe you shouldn’t have taken her threat so lightly.

People leave. There’s more room now but she doesn’t move but presses closer.

The door opens on your floor. You exhale loudly. She steps back slowly. Her fingers trail down your forearm—light and deliberate. Then she turns. Walks to her desk like nothing happened.

——

You feel your eyes slowly close.

You’ve been sat in this meeting room for two hours, manager droning on about numbers, projections, expectations. You don’t retain much. Just twirling your pen between your fingers.

You scan the room. Everyone’s half asleep—stifling yawns, glazed eyes. Until you reach her.

She’s not looking at the presentation. But at you. Chin propped up on her hand. Fingers lightly tapping against her cheek—slow, rhythmic. Like she’s waiting for something.

Your eyes drift lower. Lips parted. Glossed. Catching the light. Top buttons undone, a small necklace rests on her collarbone.

You turn back towards the presentation.

A gentle thud echoes in the room. You ignore it. Until you can’t.

Your head snaps toward her.

Her heel. On the floor. And she’s not picking it up. Then you feel it. Her foot. Sliding up your calf. Slowly. Higher and higher.

She gives you a wink.

Your breath catches. Your heart—

“Are you paying attention?”

You turn your head back to your manager, face burning.

You swallow. “Y—yeah.”

He narrows his eyes. Holds your gaze for a beat before continuing.

You hear it. Quiet but there.

She’s laughing.

Her foot slides down. Slowly. She slips her heel back on.

You don’t move. Don’t breathe. Just staring at the presentation like your life depends on it.

——

The meeting ends. You stand and make your way to her quick. You grab her wrist—tight—and pull. She stumbles after you. People are staring. You don’t care. The emergency stairwell. You don’t slow down.

You slam the door open, shoving her inside. Her back hits the wall. You take three steps back and begin pacing, breathing heavily.

“What the hell is your problem?” Your voice echoes in the stairwell.

She doesn’t say anything. Just watches you, a small smile tugging at her mouth.

You stop pacing. Moved closer until you tower over her. “We’re at work and you’re doing this shit!” You say, voice low and harsh.

She tilts her head. Looks up at you through her lashes. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

She’s breathing heavily. You’re just too angry to notice.

You press in closer. Your leg between hers. Your hand finds her wrist and pins it to the wall beside her head. You’re close enough to feel her breath. To see her pupils dilate.

“Is this what you want?”

She doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t look away.

You lower your head. Until your lips are a breath from hers. This would shut her up.

You close your eyes as you inch closer. Hers stay open.

Your lips graze hers. You pull back. Fast. You stumble slightly.

She pushes off the wall, smooths down her shirt, readjusts her glasses. “Nice try. You’ve made a scene now. Good luck talking yourself out of this.”

She opens the door. Walks out. You see your coworkers. Staring.

Everyone saw.

——

You didn’t think life here could get worse.

Everyone around you whispers. About you. About the stairwell. You’re painted as the villain. Jealous. Unstable.

If only they knew what she was doing to you.

You turn up the volume in your headphones. Try to drown them out. It doesn’t stop the stares. Or that condescending smile of hers.

You feel a firm grip on your shoulder. You look up. Your manager. Your hand slides an ear cup off.

“Follow me.”

Fuck.

You’re going to get fired aren’t you?

——

No. You’re not getting fired.

Actually it’s worse.

Your manager has assigned you to a project. Something about logistics, delivery, supply chains. You’re not really listening.

That’s not the problem. The problem is who’s leading it.

Park Sohyun.

And you’re her second in command.

——

“Alright, you all know your assignments. Fighting!”

People begin filing out, the first meeting for the new project successful. You slowly pack your things. Stand. You take a step out the door—

“Not you. I need to speak to you.”

You freeze mid-step. You turn to face her, still by the podium. She points to a chair. You sit. She moves closer, settles on the edge of the conference table, looking down at you.

You swallow visibly.

She studies you. “I hope you can stay professional. We don’t want another stairwell incident, now do we?”

You see the smirk on her face, eyes gleaming in amusement. She’s loving this.

“N—no.”

“Good. You can go.” She waves you away. You bang your knees on the table. You ignore the pain, moving towards the exit.

You’re halfway out when she speaks again.

“I told you I’d break you.”

——

The numbers, the pie charts. They all begin merging into a blur.

The past few days have been hectic. Always is when a new project gets underway. The need to have something tangible to impress the higher ups.

You’ve barely had time to sleep, staying late in the office every day. Your eyes strained from staring at the monitor for so long.

“Here.”

You look up. It’s Sohyun, offering you a cup of coffee. You take it, looking down at it sceptically.

“Did you spit in this or something?”

She slaps the back of your head.

Sohyun hasn’t tormented you in the last few days. Too busy with the project but you’re still hyper-aware. Every time she’s close or talking, you half expect her touch or a jibe.

This is the first time she’s approached you in days. And strangely enough, you miss it.

Not because you miss her. Just… the distraction. The days are boring without it.

“You look tired. Thought you could use some coffee.”

“Thanks.” You stare at the cup before taking a small sip, wincing as you burn your tongue.

“How’s the data analysis going?”

You shrug. “Should be ready by tomorrow.”

“Hmm. Good work.”

Your heart jumps a little at the praise.

She doesn’t move. Just stands there, watching you work, sipping her coffee every now and then.

Your heart beats rapidly. Waiting for her to touch you or make an inappropriate comment. You feel her hand on the back of your chair.

“You made a mistake here. And there.”

You glance up at her in surprise before following where she pointing. She’s right. You quickly make the changes.

She hums in approval before walking back to her desk. You finally exhale, shoulders dropping.

“What? Disappointed I didn’t try something?” She says as she sits back down, smirking.

You shouldn’t ask. You do anyway.

“Why aren’t you?” You add quickly, “Not because I miss it.”

Her mouth opens. Then closes. She rests her chin on her fingers. “You’re boring now.”

“What? And I wasn’t before?”

“That reaction at the stairwell? I don’t think you could top that.”

Your face heats.

She’s challenging you. Baiting you.

You take it anyway.

“How do I not be boring?” Your voice comes out quieter than you meant.

She smiles wide. Stands and leans over your desk. You see a hint of her bra underneath her shirt. Your throat suddenly goes dry. You try to look away. Too late.

“Be more assertive. More reckless. That’s when people are fun,” she says like it’s obvious. She moves suddenly, towards your manager’s desk. Grabs a key and opens the bottom drawer. Pulls out a bottle of expensive whiskey before placing it on the table with a heavy thunk.

“You want some?”

You stand abruptly, your chair rolls back, hits the desk behind. You cross to her. Grab the bottle from her hands, open it and take a swig.

You hold it in your mouth—to look like you’ve done this before. You swallow. Your throat burns. You start spluttering.

She laughs. Her hand finds your back—rubbing, soothing. “Easy there,” she murmurs.

Once your coughing dies down, you look at her. Her expression shifts. Surprised. Impressed. You shove the bottle into her hands. Nod at it.

She holds your gaze. Brings the bottle to her lips.

Your eyes go lower. Her throat bobs after every swallow. You swallow along with her.

She places the bottle back on the desk when she finishes. There’s a drop of whiskey on her lips. You track it as it glides down her chin. Falls onto her shirt, staining the fabric.

Her shirt—when did she undo more buttons?

You look back up. Her gaze still on you, pupils dilated. Lips parted. Your breaths mingle. Everywhere smells like whiskey.

You push forward. Grab her waist. Crush your mouth against hers. It’s messy and loud. She moans. Opens her mouth. You don’t hesitate, forcing your tongue in.

She steps back until she’s pressed against your manager’s desk. She reaches back, sweeps the paper and pens onto the floor. The whiskey also falls. Shatters. You don’t care.

You lift her onto the desk, kiss her neck. She moans—right into your ear. Her legs lock around you, hands going to your belt—

The sound of the vacuum breaks both of you out of the spell.

You separate, breathing heavily. You crane your neck towards the sound. They don’t know you’re here yet. You look back at her, already buttoning her shirt.

“Want to get out of here?” She asks.

You can only nod.

——

Your manager frantically searches his drawers, muttering. “What? Where’s my bottle?”

You ignore him, focused on getting your tasks done.

Out of the corner of your eye, you watch him move closer to Sohyun. Your fingers hit the keyboard harder than normal.

He leans on her desk. Lowers his voice. “Have you seen my… special drink?”

“You mean the one in the locked drawer?”

“That’s the one!”

“Nope. I’ve been too busy.” She doesn’t give him her full attention, eyes glued to the computer screen.

He stares at her, waiting for more. When nothing comes, he frowns, walking back to his desk.

Sohyun stares at you over her computer screen, smirking. You try to fight the smile coming. You fail.

She slams her laptop shut. Grabs it and stands. “Come on. Let’s head to the meeting room.”

——

Sohyun stands at the front of the room. Clicking through slides. Assigning tasks. Fielding questions.

You’re not listening.

Last night keeps playing in your mind. The hickey left on her collarbone. How her thighs locked around your waist in the backseat of her car. How her nails raked down your back. The pain is still there. But it was worth it.

You can’t stop staring. Her lips are still swollen. You notice a slight limp when she walks. Favouring her left leg as she paces. You can see the hickey, barely peeking out of her shirt.

You smile at the memory.

“Anything to add?”

You shake your head, still smiling. Then you notice: everyone’s staring at you. Confused.

She glances at you, amusement on her features. “Alright then. This is the final push. Don’t let the team down.”

Nods all round the table. Chairs scraping. One by one they file out. Until it’s just you two.

She doesn’t move. Stares at the door until it clicks shut. “You were undressing me, weren’t you?”

You look down at your laptop, pretending to make notes. “Don’t know what you’re talking about.”

She walks toward you. Slowly. The limp still there. She grabs the armrests, spins your chair to face her. She grips your chin, forces you to look up.

“Tonight—shall we finish what we started?”

“Didn’t we?” You don’t break eye contact. “In your car?”

She leans down, her mouth next to your ear. “I’m talking about the manager’s desk.” your eyes widen. “How hot would that be?”

No. It would be stupid. Crazy.

But you’ve had a taste of doing reckless shit. A taste of her.

And it’s addictive.

You pull her onto your lap, kissing her roughly. She laughs into it.

That answers her question.

——

“F—fuck…”

You grab her tie from round her neck, stuff it into her mouth as you continue to pound into her.

She’s under you. Eyes rolled back. Pants gone, panties around one ankle by your head. Her shirt, ripped open. You’re pretty sure you tore a few buttons. You need to reimburse her for that. Her glasses are still on, now askew.

God, she’s the most beautiful thing here—one hand fondling her breast. The other gripping your hand by her waist tightly.

You’re not gentle. She doesn’t want you to be. You can still hear her moans through her tie. You’re close. Too close.

She lets go of her breast, reaches for something by her head. Her phone. You don’t question it. Open the camera. Frame her: Shirt torn open. Tie between her teeth. Sweat on her collarbone. One leg hooked over your shoulder. You take the photo. Show her. She looks at herself. At what you’ve done to her. Her eyes grow dark. She nods.

More.

She cums. Hard. Her walls tightening around you. You finish inside her. No hesitation.

You lean over. Kiss her hard, desperate.

You take a few steps back, collapse onto the manager’s chair and watch as your joined fluids spill onto the desk.

You laugh. So does she.

You’re both still breathing hard. She sits up, places her feet on the armrest. Drags you closer. You look into her eyes as you start buttoning up your shirt. Disheveled. Smiling. “What, no round 2?”

You caress her leg, placing soft kisses on her calf. Up to her knee. She shivers. “My place?”

She considers. Then nods.

——

“W—why is my desk sticky?”

He’s looking around for someone to blame. Everyone’s staring at their screen, ignoring him.

You hear your phone buzz. Look down. Message from Sohyun.

It’s one of the photos from last night. Her. On the desk. Tie in her mouth. Below it: Shall we tell him?

You look up, eyes wide. She’s already looking at you. You watch as she bites her lip. Laughs into her fist. She’s already lifting her phone. Aims it at you. Your phone buzzes a second later.

Your face? Priceless

——

You open your laptop. Spreadsheet already displayed. You crack your knuckles, stretch your neck, and begin to work.

The project’s deadline is tomorrow. It’s almost done—just a few changes left to be made. The slack channel constantly pings with new messages from other team members. Updates on their tasks, offering assistance.

The shower head suddenly turns off. Five minutes later, Sohyun comes out: hair damp, wearing your t-shirt. It’s big on her—neck line too big, exposing one shoulder, hem falling to mid-thigh. If the deadline wasn’t tomorrow, you’d have thrown her on the bed for round 2.

She pads to your bed, wet footprints marking your carpet. She climbs under the sheets. Grabs her phone from the nightstand. You look over. She’s scrolling through the slack channel before tossing her phone away. She stretches. T-shirt riding up her thighs. You feel your heart rate pick up. You turn back to your screen. Try to focus.

She turns to you. Scoots until she’s pressing against you. Grabs your chin and begins kissing you messily. She tries to close your laptop. You stop her.

You pull away. “I still have work to do.”

“Do it after.”

“You just took a shower.”

“I can take another.”

You chuckle. Turn back toward the screen.

She watches you, annoyance marring her features. “Fine.”

You last only five minutes when you hear moans beside you. She’s touching herself. You try to ignore it. Her breath quickening. Your name spilling out of her mouth—needy. The way her legs spread wider. Your throat goes dry.

You look over. She’s watching you, a teasing smile on her face. She brings a finger to her mouth. Bites it. That look—you can’t get used to it.

You’re hard. Aching.

You shut the computer, toss it onto the floor, and pounce on top of her. She’s giggling like she’s won.

You crash your lips on hers, pushing your tongue in. Replace her hand with yours. Swallow her moans.

You don’t know when she became more important than work.

——

After the deadline, she decided to stay for the weekend.

You don’t argue.

You feel her eyes on your back. “What?” You ask, still facing the cooker as you make breakfast.

She’s sat at the table, chin resting on one hand, the other drawing patterns on the tabletop. She’s only got a bra and your boxers on. You love the sight.

“You’re weirdly hot you know?”

“Thank you?”

“I mean it,” you turn around, place a plate in front of her before sitting across from her. “If you keep your hair messy like that and wear those glasses…”

You stare at her as she bites her lip. Rubs her thighs together. You’re surprised she’s acting like this—at just a thought. “Maybe I will.”

——

Monday comes round. You’re looking at your reflection in the window of her car.

You followed her advice: messy hair, glasses instead of contacts. You adjust your glasses, touch your hair. It feels weird. You feel her hand on your thigh.

“You look fine. If I wasn’t driving, I’d be on you right now.” Her hand climbs higher, nails slightly brushing your groin.

A small groan escapes. You grab her hand. “I’m not going into the office hard.”

“Why not?”

You don’t give her an answer. Instead, you watch outside. People waiting for buses. Cleaners on the street, removing evidence of whatever happened last night.

“Let’s play a game.”

You hum in response. Curious now.

“First person to get dragged into the supply closet wins.”

“Sohyun… no.”

“Why? We already fucked on the manager’s desk.”

“You’re talking about doing it during work hours.”

“Exciting right?”

Crazy. She’s crazy.

But you’re already imagining it. Her pressed against the shelves—

What has she done to you?

——

You get off a block away from the entrance. Whatever this is between you two, you both keep it secret. No rumours. No questions.

You enter the building, scan your ID and wait for the elevator. People are staring. Your hair. Glasses. Gossiping. You look towards them. They look away, giggling.

Sohyun arrives a minute later, stands beside you. Smirking. “Told you it looked good.”

The elevator arrives. You move to the back. Sohyun stands in front of you, back to you. As the elevator ascends, she moves back. Her ass pressing against you.

You try not to look down at her. You fail. She’s typing something on her phone. Holds her phone over her shoulder.

Game starts now

She presses harder. You bite the inside of your cheek, face burning. You look around. No one’s paying attention. Don’t react. Not here. Not yet.

When the elevator reaches your floor, it empties. Just the two of you left. You lean in, groan softly into her ear. Watch the goosebumps rise on her skin. You sidestep around her before heading to your desk. You don’t look back.

Two can play this game.

——

It’s barely lunch and you’re already losing your composure.

She’s good. Really good.

A glimpse of her bra when she leans over to hand you something. She drops her pen deliberately. Lets it roll under your desk. She ducks under the desk. Her hand finds your thigh—not the pen. Every time she leaves for the bathroom, your phone buzzes. Photos of her. Hair tussled. Shirt open, exposing the smooth plane of her stomach. You do your best to hide them from your colleagues. Angle your phone away from your desk neighbour. But they just keep coming.

“Are you okay?”

You lock your phone immediately. Look up. Zhou Xinyu. She’s frowning. Concerned look on her face. “I—I’m fine.”

“Are you sure? You’re looking really red.”

You nod, not trusting your voice.

She walks off. Then stops. Turns to you. “By the way…” You look over your shoulder at her. “Like the new look.” She winks at you.

You swallow visibly. Your phone buzzes again.

What the fuck is happening?

——

You look over at Sohyun, eyes pleading. Her foot’s on your groin again, pressing firmly. You bite your knuckles, trying not to moan. She’s smiling innocently.

She doesn’t stop, not even when some intern comes to flirt with her. She’s in her element. Laughing. Flirting.

You hate it.

You know she’s watching you, even when she’s not paying attention. How your jaw tightens when she laughs at a terrible joke, her hand playfully slapping his arm. She presses harder with your every reaction.

“What is with the tired looks, everybody? It’s Monday! A brand new week!”

A momentary respite when your eyes turn to your manager. You look around. Everyone’s eyes look heavy, their movements sluggish.

“This won’t do. You!” He points at you, beckons you closer with his finger. You slap her foot away before standing carefully. You walk slowly to him. “Go down to the cafe. Coffee is on me!”

Cheers of delight come from the team. Internally, you’re celebrating the reprieve.

You quickly make your way to the elevator, ignoring Sohyun.

“Can I join you?”

You turn. Xinyu stands beside you. “Sure. Going on your lunch break?”

She stares at you for a moment before turning to the elevator doors. “Something like that.”

Behind you, Sohyun watches the elevator doors close. Her eyes narrow.

——

“Let me pay.”

“I can’t let you do that.”

“It’s the manager’s card.” You flash the card as if it was treasure.

She laughs. Covering her mouth with her hand. “If you insist.” She gestures you forward.

You move to pay then proceed to order for the rest of your team. 5 iced americanos. 1 caramel frappe with extra whipped cream and chocolate syrup on top.

You don’t know why you remember that.

You walk over to where Xinyu’s waiting, busy on her phone. She sets it down as soon as you’re beside her.

“What’s with the new look?” She asks.

“This? Sohyun suggested it. Said it looked good on me.” You don’t look her in the eyes when you answer, remembering what happened after she said that.

The eggs were cold.

“You’ve been hanging around her a lot lately.” You look up, wait for her to continue. “You’re a lot different from before you worked that project together.”

You narrow your eyes. “Good different? Bad?”

You’re interrupted when her order comes out first—placed in front of her. She bends over her drink, holds the straw close to her mouth.

“Not sure yet. Just different.”

You watch as she drinks. You shouldn’t be. The way her cheeks hollow. Her eyes trained on you.

You shift uncomfortably.

When did everything become so sexual?

Your phone buzzes in your pocket. “Excuse me.”

You move away towards the window. Stare down at your phone. Another message from Sohyun. This time a voice note. You press play. Press it against your ear.

You almost drop your phone.

She’s moaning your name. From the echo, she’s in the bathroom again. You hear her breathing heavily, voice raspy.

You can imagine it: her on the toilet seat, fingers between her legs, coated in her wetness. Her eyes fluttering close, biting her lip hard enough to draw blood.

You press your head against the window, a thud echoing in the cafe. Xinyu’s looking over at you in concern. You ignore her, focus on getting your breathing in check. Focus on not losing this game.

Then you hear it: a sucking sound through the speakers.

It ends there. Like a teaser for what’s to come. You check the time on your phone. 5 more hours until the day’s over.

“What happened? Is everything okay?”

You quickly turn. Xinyu’s close. Her face centimetres from yours. You don’t know how long she’s been standing there. Don’t know if she heard any of it. You hope she didn’t.

“Y—yeah. Sorry. Didn’t mean to scare you.”

She shakes her head. You feel your cheeks burn under her gaze. Did she hear it? What would she think? You see her raise her hand, point to your forehead.

“Your forehead. You hit it pretty hard on the window. It’s going red.”

You bring your hand to your forehead, feel a slight swell.

Fuck.

“It’s fine. I—“ you look over her shoulder and see the barista placing your order onto the counter. “The order’s ready.” You quickly move, thankful for the interruption.

You grab the coffees. Thank the barista. You turn to Xinyu. “Shall we head back?” You don’t give her time to answer, already walking to the exit.

——

“I told you. It’s fine.”

“If you don’t do something about it, it’s going to get worse. The swelling will get bigger. Redder. You could end up with a headache. Or have to go to the hospital.”

“Okay. You’re exaggerating now. I don’t actually—“

The elevator doors open. You see Sohyun stopping at the sight of you and Xinyu. Close. Her hand brushing the swell on your forehead. Gently blowing on it as if that would fix it.

You don’t think you’ve ever seen her angry.

“Is that the coffee order?” Her tone is cold. Emotionless.

“Y—yeah.”

“Great. Xinyu, could you—“ she takes the coffee from your hands, shoves it into hers. She grips your wrist. Tight. “—hand them to the team. Thanks.”

She’s dragging you out of the elevator before you can make a sound.

——

This feels familiar. Her dragging you. Of the time you dragged her out that meeting. Karma has a weird way of getting back at you.

She drags you up the next floor. Accounting. It’s a quiet floor. People here tend to mind their own business. They won’t notice how she opens the supply closet, shoves you inside, and locks it behind her.

You don’t know if you should be aroused or terrified.

She pushes you into a worn office chair. Grabs your tie. Forces you to look up before crashing her lips against yours.

You don’t respond. Can’t. Already feel her tongue invading your mouth.

She straddles you. Unbuttons your shirt one by one. You move your hand to do the same to hers. Only for her to slap them away.

Her lips leave yours, inches away. “You don’t get to touch me.”

You swallow hard. Try to chase her lips only for her to lean further back. She grinds against you. A moan escapes you. You don’t care anymore. Don’t care that someone might find you. Might hear you. Don’t care if your manager wonders where the fuck you both are.

You just want her.

You hear her heels fall to the floor as she undoes the last button. Feel her nails scratch you from your collarbone to your hips. Her eyes darken as she looks over you.

She presses her lips on you—your collarbone, your chest. She trails down until she can’t bend anymore.

She sits back up. Straight. Removes her own shirt before tossing it behind her. Forgotten. Grabs your chin roughly before kissing you. Desperate. Messy. Like staking a claim. Her other hand trails down, undoes your belt, the button before fishing you out, stroking you slow.

“Fuck…”

She smiles into the kiss, loving the way you easily fold.

She’s off your lap now, shimmies out of her own trousers. Smirks when your pupils dilate at the sight. No panties.

You try to reach her. You’re only met with her hand holding both your wrists, pinning them to the shelves behind you.

She straddles you again, grabs you and aims you into her. She lowers herself onto you until you’re fully inside.

You groan at the warmth. She groans at the fullness.

She rides you. Hard. Panting into your ear. Biting your ear. You’re too far gone to think clearly.

The shelves behind you start rattling, random items falling around you.

For a brief moment, you remember where you are. That someone walking by could see what’s happening.

You let out a loud moan at that thought.

She clasps her hand over your mouth. To make you quiet. But no one’s making her quiet. She grows louder. And louder. Until she has no choice but to stuff her own tie into her mouth.

You feel yourself getting harder at the sight.

She’s close. You can feel it. The lack of rhythm in her bouncing. The stutter in her breathing. The way she shuts her eyes tight, trying to hold herself together.

You finish first. Inside her. She follows soon after. Head collapsing on your shoulder, hand letting go of your wrists. They fall around her waist. You hold her tight. Wait until your breathing is under control. She places her hand over your chest, over your heart. Smiles at its rapid beating.

When you both calm, she lifts her head before lowering her lips onto yours. Softer. Gentler.

You part, eyes locked. “I win.”

She tilts her head in confusion. “What?”

“You said whoever gets dragged into the supply closet wins right? I won.”

You watch the realisation dawn on her face.

“Fuck you.”

——

“Damn it. The door’s jammed again. Is maintenance gone already… fuck.”

The supply closet door continues to rattle as one, two people try to get it open.

“Fuck it. I’ll get it tomorrow.”

You grab your phone. Read the time: 5:50pm. You’ve been here the entire afternoon, half expecting messages from your boss: where the fuck are you, where’s my fucking credit card. You didn’t get any of that, just a single text from Xinyu.

Told them you got hurt pretty bad on the way back from the cafe. Told them Sohyun went with you because she’s got a car.

You need to thank her for that. And explain all this too. Or come up with a convincing lie.

“How long left?”

“10 minutes. How do you know Accounting will be gone by then?”

“They don’t do overtime. Or refuse to. Just how they are.” She gives a noncommittal shrug. Browses the items on the shelves. She’s walking around the supply closet. Naked.

“I should’ve used this on you.” She turns to you, shows you some tape before continuing her browsing.

You can’t take your eyes off her. Hair a mess. From the makeshift ponytail in round 3. The bruises on her hips. From when you gripped her a bit too tightly in round 5. The glistening on her inner thighs.

You’re aching at the memory.

She looks down. Smirks. You’re hard again. “Ready for round 8?” She saunters to you, hips swaying more than normal before sitting down next to you.

She grips you, stroking slowly, twisting at the tip. You move your hand to her mouth, watch as she sucks on your fingers before letting them go. You trail them down to where she’s already wet, rubbing in circles.

You rest your head on the wall behind, eyes closed, enjoying her hand and her soft moans. She’s on her phone, tapping away.

“Look at this.”

You slowly open your eyes. Look at her screen. Xinyu’s latest photo on Instagram. A mirror selfie. The mirror’s steamed, she’s wearing a bathrobe, shoulder exposed.

“Sohyun… what the fuck…”

“Imagine it’s her hand.” She whispers into your ear.

She’s stroking faster. Your hand lying motionless on her. You shut your eyes. Can’t help the image of Xinyu on you instead.

You exhale loudly.

“Jealous of her?”

“I am.” She blows into your ear. You let out a moan. “But I understand. She’s hot.” She stops. Hand moving down, grabs your balls. Tight. “Just remember that I’m the one making you feel this way.”

You kiss her. Hard. Moaning into her mouth as she strokes again. Faster. Relentless. You come. All over her hand.

You can’t do anything but watch as she brings her hand to her mouth, licks her hand clean, smiles at the taste.

After that display, she stands, finds her shirt, dresses.

“What about you?” You say weakly, unable to move.

“You can make it up to me,” she’s putting her hair up in a ponytail. “After dinner.”

She tosses you your clothes. Leans on the door, waiting for you.

——

You both make it to your floor. Quietly. In case anyone is still lingering.

When the coast is clear, you move to grab your stuff: jacket, bag, ID. Both of you run to the elevators, giggling like children.

You put your hand in your jacket pocket. Something’s in there. Soft. Unfamiliar. You pull it out.

Her panties.

“Thought you’d like a souvenir.” She’s smiling.

You walk in as soon as the elevator arrives and the doors open.

“Was this supposed to help with the game?”

“Yeah. Didn’t think it would end up being useless.”

You laugh boisterously.

As the door closes, you pin her to the wall, kissing her.

——

Dinner’s at your place. An order of fried chicken.

She’s cleaned up, now sporting only your hoodie. You’re in jogging pants, no shirt.

Some variety show plays on the TV. You’re not paying attention, content to watch her. How she holds the chicken delicately with just her fingertips. Her legs tucked underneath her. She laughs at something on the TV. It’s loud. Addicting. You can’t help but laugh along with her.

She reaches for another piece. Arches her back as she takes one from the plate. You see a hint of a smile. You huff. You’ve been caught. You lean back on the couch, focusing on the show. She moves beside you, resting her head on your shoulder. Offers the chicken. You take a bite. She laughs again before settling against you.

You throw your arm over her, thumb softly grazing her hipbone. You lean down, a gentle kiss on the top of her head.

She looks up at you, eyes curving into crescents as she smiles wide.

Your heart skips a beat.

She leans up, pecks you on the lips before you can react and turns back to the TV.

——

At this point, she’s practically moved in. Which, by the way, is crazy. You’re pretty sure her place is bigger than yours.

You walk into the bathroom, see her toothbrush sitting next to yours. Counter space is nonexistent. Her essentials have taken over—lotion, cleanser, hair products.

You sigh. Grab your toothbrush. Start brushing your teeth as you walk around the bedroom.

Your desk is now her makeup station. Your wardrobe has her work attire.

(Only her work attire. She’s either naked or stealing your clothes whenever she comes by.)

You walk back into the bathroom, watching yourself in the mirror.

She comes in, wraps her arms round your waist. You stare at her through the reflection. At the way her hands start drifting lower, into your jogging pants.

You stop that immediately, turning, grabbing her and lifting her on the small space left on the counter.

You accidentally poke her eye with your toothbrush.

“Ow!”

You spit your toothbrush into the sink.

“Shit! Are you okay?”

She laughs, one eye closed.

You move close, kissing all over her face: the closed eye, her brow, her nose before ending at her mouth. One peck. Two. You dive back in, pushing your tongue into her mouth.

She reciprocates eagerly, one arm around the back of your neck. The other finishing her exploration of your pants. You feel her hand cup you.

You groan before lifting her, carrying her to the bedroom. She’s giggling the whole time.

——

“Re—really? They’re happy… with it?” She stutters, not paying attention to what’s being said on the phone.

A member of the project called. Updates her on what happened since she was away. The higher ups are happy with the project. They praised her leadership. Wants to reward the team with a big dinner.

She’s happy of course. But her mind’s elsewhere.

“Ha—have you talked with the other members? Asked what they w—wanted?”

She moves the phone away from her mouth. Covers the microphone as she moans loudly. Her head bangs against your headboard. “Keep going.”

She puts the phone back against her ear. Catches the last part of whatever was said. Her other hand reaches down, grabs hold of your hair, pushing you further into her. She starts grinding into your mouth.

You smile. Continue lapping at her relentlessly. The need to breathe no longer a priority. You start pushing a finger inside. Then another as your tongue moves up, circling her clit.

She bucks. You use one hand to hold her down.

“J—just let me know what the others decide. I’ll talk to you tomorrow. Bye.” She ends the call quickly, throws her phone away. It clatters somewhere near the bedroom door.

“Oh my fucking—how are you so good?”

“I watched tutorials.”

“Can you send me the link? I want to show them to all my—“

You don’t let her finish, sucking on her clit. Hard.

You stop. Look up at her. Mouth wet. “Is there anyone else?”

She shakes her head quickly.

“Are you sure? Use your words.” You’re torturing her. Still, it’s nice to have power over her sometimes. Nice to see her chest rise and fall. See her cheeks flushed pink.

“No. No.”

You dive back in. Her head thrashes side to side. She extends her arm suddenly, knocking over the bedside lamp before she starts hitting the bed.

“Fuck fuck fuck”

She’s panting now, her thighs tightening over your head. You have to pry them open just to breathe.

“Keep going. Please— I’m close.”

Her thighs begin to quiver, tightening around you again. She grabs your pillow and screams into it as her orgasm tears through her. Her hips lift off the bed, dragging you with her. You don’t stop, working her through it.

Eventually, she loosens her thighs. Lets you climb over her, trailing kisses—hipbone, sternum, up to her mouth. She grabs the back of your neck, kissing you. Moans at her taste. You smile into the kiss.

“Did I make up for the supply closet?”

She can only nod furiously before kissing you again.

——

Friday’s here.

You kick the ground outside the office, your breath visible as you wait for your manager. Somehow, he’s managed to weasel his way into this celebratory dinner with your team. A project he wasn’t a part of. You don’t know why Sohyun agreed to this.

“Where are we going again?”

Oh and your manager invited Xinyu as well.

“Some new, fusion restaurant downtown,” you say noncommittally. You do your best to avoid her gaze, lest you face Sohyun’s ire. You wouldn’t mind, except all you and Sohyun have been doing lately is having sex. You’re kind of sore at this point.

“I shouldn’t even be here. I wasn’t part of the project.”

“You missed your opportunity to say no,” you say bluntly. Then you smile. Wry. “It’s alright. The manager wasn’t invited either yet somehow he’s coming along. Trust me, we’d rather have you there than him.”

She can’t help but smile. “Thanks. Feel a little better now.”

“Don’t say that. I heard there were plans to ditch you with him.”

She pushes you halfheartedly, laughing. You smile along with her.

“Alright! I’m here! Let’s go!”

——

“I call shotgun!”

You, Sohyun, and Xinyu stand frozen at the audacity of your manager. Watching him as he opens the passenger door to Sohyun’s car.

“Looks like he took shotgun,” Xinyu says as she walks to the back.

You look over at Sohyun. Her jaw is tight. She’s annoyed. At your manager or Xinyu, you’re not too sure.

“Can you drive?”

You huff. “Sure.”

She hands you the keys before making her way to the backseat, behind the driver.

As soon as you open the driver side door, your manager begins protesting. “What are you doing? This is Sohyun’s car.”

Sometimes, you want to punch him.

“She’s not feeling too well. Asked me to drive.”

“I can drive. Sohyun, come sit here.”

“No, no. I’ll feel worse there. Might throw up on you.” She makes a gagging sound. Your manager can’t help but gag along with her.

You look into the rear view mirror, see Xinyu smiling in amusement. You do too.

“Let’s go.”

——

“I swear I want to kill him.”

“You invited him.”

“He invited himself.”

“Should’ve said no then.”

“Whose side are you on?”

The both of you hang back a bit. Watch as the rest enter the restaurant. Xinyu lags behind the group, looking over her shoulder at you.

“Can we tell him what we did? That we stole his whiskey? Fucked on his desk?”

She’s leaning on her car. You’re standing in front of her, towering over her.

“That’s a sure way to get me fired.”

“You? Not we?”

“He likes you. He’d defend you. He’d paint me as some devil who seduced you into stealing his whiskey and having sex on his desk.”

She chuckles softly. She’s staring up at you, eyes wide. “If only he knew I was the seducer.”

You smile. “If only he knew.”

You lean down, kiss her softly on the lips before gently pushing her off the car and toward the restaurant.

“You think we could leave early? Or at least go to the bathroom?” She’s talking to you over her shoulder.

“Sohyun… I’m still sore from last night.”

“Maybe we could invite Xinyu to join us.”

You stay silent. She’s joking. Still, it’s not a bad idea. “Should we?”

“Fuck you.” She flips you off.

——

This is bad. Like a powder keg waiting to explode.

Your manager’s drunk. Is starting to get more handsy—firm grip on shoulders, pulling them close by the waist. Everyone’s uncomfortable. Especially the women.

You look to Sohyun, forced to sit by his side, shifting uncomfortably, drinking every shot he gives her. To Xinyu, staring at her flute of champagne, silent.

Your jaw tightens, knuckles turning white as you grip the edge of the table. Yet you don’t say anything. No one does. Too afraid to speak out, to lose their jobs. Even Sohyun, who preaches recklessness, can’t seem to put her job on the line.

“Why is everyone quiet? Drink. Drink!”

Even the other customers are uncomfortable.

“Why aren’t you drinking?”

You turn to face him, a butter knife pointed toward you. Everyone’s looking, the guy next to you—his name you can’t remember—nudges you, points at the shot in front.

Before you would’ve stayed silent, down the shot, keep him happy.

But you’ve changed. For the better.

“I’m not drinking tonight. I’m driving.”

“Who? You don’t even own a car.”

“Sohyun. Xinyu,” you say, voice cold. “Anyone else who wants a lift.”

He cackles. “Everyone here can take a cab! They don’t need you driving them home! Isn’t that right Sohyun?”

You watch as his hand grabs hold of her thigh. At the way she flinches but can’t move away. Your vision goes red. You stand, punching him in the nose. You hear a crack, watch as he falls off his seat. You don’t stop there, walking round the table and pummelling him.

Crack. Another bone.

They pull you off him before you do something you regret. You’re breathing heavily. Ears are ringing. You can’t hear anything until you feel Xinyu push you, telling you to go outside.

You walk out. Lean against the wall before sliding down it.

——

You stay like that for who knows how long. Until you see her white sneakers.

You look up. Sohyun crouches down to eye level. Looks over your features. She brushes a strand of hair from your eyes.

“You shouldn’t have done that.”

“I know.”

“You’re going to get fired.”

“I know.”

“Thank you.”

Her hands cup your cheeks before leaning in. Kisses your forehead.

You smile despite yourself.

“Where is everybody?”

“The hospital.”

You hum in acknowledgement.

She moves to sit beside you. Your hand stops her, gesturing to your lap instead. You don’t want her to dirty her clothes. She gently sits down, back against your chest. She holds your hand in hers.

“They’re not going to say it in public… but they’re thankful. For what you did.”

“I don’t care about them. They saw what he was doing. Didn’t do anything.”

“Hey. You’re angry. I get it. But don’t blame them. The only person to blame is that bastard.”

You’re quiet. She’s right. You place your lips over her shoulder, kissing it gently.

“Are you okay? Drunk?”

She squeezes your hand. “Maybe a little.”

“Come on then. Let’s sober you up.”

——

Sohyun watches as you slowly pack your things into a box. Security guards watching your every move.

Rumours were quick to spread. Of the inappropriate way the manager was acting during the dinner. You thought you’d be arrested for assault. Except, everyone at the dinner defended you and someone let slip to the restaurant the company you all worked at. Online posts begin circulating: how this company could allow such behaviour. How the workplace must be such a toxic environment.

It was shut down quickly by the higher ups, ordering an internal investigation. Obviously, they couldn’t tolerate violence against a manager, so even if everyone defended you, you still had to be let go.

It’s fine though. You hated this place anyway.

You finish packing. Head to the elevator escorted by the guards. When you reach the ground floor, you hand them your ID, bow to them before walking out the door.

Xinyu’s outside. Waiting for you.

——

You find yourself in a small cafe. No one here save for you, Xinyu, and a barista who finds her phone more interesting than anything else.

“It’s not fair. Firing you.”

You look up from your mug, a small, defeated smile on your face. “You say that as if they had choice,” you watch as she’s about to protest, only for you to continue. “I broke his nose. They can’t keep me on after that.”

You watch for her reaction. When she lets out a frustrated sigh, you exhale a breath you didn’t know you were holding.

After a couple of minutes of just sitting there, drinking your coffee, she speaks. “So… you and Sohyun huh?”

You were about to say something before she stops you with her hand. “No one punches their manager unless they’re doing something to someone you like. Would you do it again? If it was me?”

You don’t hesitate. “I would.”

She stares into your eyes. Relief flooding her face at your answer. Her eyes though. They looked resigned. Like, despite hearing the answer she wanted, it was not what she actually wanted.

It felt like a confession. Of the crush you harboured for her for the last three years. You wonder what would’ve happened if it was her and not Sohyun you got close with.

You rid yourself of that thought. You don’t regret any of this.

“I told you that you were different since you spent more time with Sohyun. You asked if that was good or bad…”

“I remember.”

“It was a good thing. Even if she can be a bit… territorial.”

“Like when she had you in her lap? Hand on your thigh?”

She winces at the memory. “Sorry about that.”

“Don’t be. It was hot.”

Her eyes widen in shock, disbelief at what you said. You’re also pretty sure that the barista’s no longer paying attention to her phone, more interested in your conversation.

“I don’t really have a filter anymore.” You wave your hand in the air as if your explanation made it all better.

“Did she ever… talk about me?” She asks shyly. You lean in, ready to tell her about the supply closet before she sits up straight. Covers her ears with her hands. “On second thought, I don’t want to know.”

You laugh. First time since the incident.

She smiles back at you.

“I should probably get going. Keep in touch.” She walks over to your side of the table, presses her lips to your cheek before walking out.

“There’s someone better than her?”

You turn at the sudden question from the barista. You can only give her a sharp nod.

——

You wipe the steam from the mirror. Stare at your reflection. Watch as water droplets slide down your face, into the scruff of your beard.

You need to shave.

You open the cupboard below the sink. Take out a razor and the shaving cream. You stand, turn the faucet on to wet your face a bit more.

You hear a whistle. Turning, Sohyun stands by the door. Hair in a high ponytail. Suit jacket discarded, she’s left in a black shirt, black pencil skirt, black stockings.

You exhale loudly. Those damn stockings.

“Wow,” she says, eyeing you like candy. “Hot.”

You scoff. You face the mirror, applying the shaving cream. “Just got back?”

“Uh-huh.” She’s closer now, leaning beside the mirror, watching you. “Have to say… would you consider wearing a Santa Claus outfit? It’s one of my fantasies.”

The blade freezes by your cheek. You would’ve said no without hesitation. Now, you’re actually contemplating hiring one.

She moves until she’s between you and the mirror, pries the blade from your hand. One hand pulls on the skin, the other slowly glides the blade against your skin. “The office. It’s boring now.”

You don’t say anything. Watch the concentration on her face. Only when she washes the blade do you speak.

“What? No one to flirt with? No intern kissing the floor you stand on?”

That annoyed her. She hooks a finger into your mouth, pulls your cheek taut before going over it with the blade. She scowls at you. You’ve long since stopped being afraid of it. Now it’s adorable.

The two of you have been fucking so much, you actually forgot how beautiful she was. Her eyes are focused, calculating. Pale skin contrasting against her dark clothes. Her mouth set in quiet concentration, plump. Perfect for kissing.

“You’re staring.” She finishes. Wipes the blade clean before tossing it into the trash.

You push her into the sink. You move until she’s flush against your skin. She cranes her neck up to see you. You’re more focused on the elegant line of her neck. The way her throat moves as she swallows thickly.

Before you can capture her lips, she presses a finger against your lips.

“Aftershave.”

You lean back, watch her grab the bottle. She pours a generous amount on her hand, spreads it before touching your face.

It burns.

You don’t break eye contact, keeping her hands on your cheek as you kiss her.

When you separate, your towel drops with a soft thud, pooling around you. She looks down, breath hitching at the sight of you, hard and leaking. She grabs you, takes you back into the shower. No care about what happens to her clothes.

——

Despite not working there anymore, you’re still kept in the loop on what’s happening in the office. Text messages from Xinyu to conversations during dinner with Sohyun.

You hear the passcode being entered into your door before opening. Sohyun’s home.

She kicks off her heels, leaves them lying on the floor. Drops her laptop bag by the shoe cabinet before walking toward you. Slow. Exaggerated hip sway. Her eyes never leaving yours.

You watch, mesmerised. Laptop forgotten on your lap. Your throat goes dry as she removes her hair clip. Shakes her hair loose. Soft and wavy. Framing her face in a way that makes you anticipate what she’ll do next. She drags her thumb across her lips, removes the lipstick before darting her tongue out, slowly licking them.

What is she doing to you?

Her hands find the zipper on her skirt, drags it down slow before letting it pool by her feet. You finally see her eyes, a predatory gleam to them. Dark. You can’t look away. Even as she slowly unbuttons her shirt, letting it glide down to the floor. Until she’s left in only her bra and panties. And stockings.

She stops in front of you. Closes your laptop. Tosses it on the far end of the couch. She straddles you, her weight settling on your lap.

“Rough day?”

Her fingers thread through your hair. Your eyes slowly close at the sensation. You feel her fingers move, from your hair to your glasses. She removes them, tossing them away.

She presses her lips to yours before speaking. “Had another interview about the manager. More like an interrogation.”

Another kiss.

“Talked about the incident. About you.”

Another.

“I think they wanted me to pin it all on you.”

You open your eyes then, half lidded. Hers the same, filled with lust.

“Did you?” You ask, voice hoarse.

She shakes her head, more strands fall over her eyes as she leans in again.

“They wish. Xinyu says there’s enough evidence for a full inquiry on him.”

Another kiss. Longer. Slower.

You separate. She whispers into your mouth. “I thought about you all day.”

She grabs your hands. Place one on her waist, the other on her breast. She moves her lips beside yours before biting your earlobe. You groan.

“Thought about your hands. Your mouth. Your—“

You couldn’t help but buck into her. You feel the sharp intake of breath. She’s smiling before biting your earlobe again.

“Sohyun—“

“Shh…” she pulls back, looks at you, breathing heavily. “I don’t want to talk anymore.”

She kisses you. Hungry. Deep.

You kiss back. Hands moving to her back. Fingertips lightly grazing her spine. She shivers. You feel the bra clasp. Undo it, letting it slide down her arms. She throws it somewhere behind her.

You start travelling lower, pressing your lips against her neck, collarbone before ending at her breasts. You alternate between both, giving extra attention to the nipples.

She moans loudly. Holds your head, keeping it close to her chest. One hand moves down, palms you through your pants.

Eventually, she pushes you off, dives back into your mouth.

You separate, both breathing hard.

“Bedroom?” You ask.

She shakes her head.

“Here. Now.”

She tugs on your shirt incessantly. You pull it off with ease, throwing it somewhere behind her.

She presses her lips on you: neck, shoulder, chest. They’re featherlight. Goosebumps appear on your skin.

She suddenly stands and turns, hooks her fingers into her stockings and pulls them down. Slowly. Ass pointed to you. Her head turns to face you, eyes gesturing to your sweatpants.

You get rid of them quickly, to not miss the show in front of you.

She kicks the stockings off her feet. Stands in front of you in only her underwear.

You move forward. Kiss her hipbone, her stomach, her thighs as you slowly peel them off her. You hear her panting, her hands twisting in your hair.

“No… I need you now.”

She pushes you back, straddling you quickly before lowering herself onto you.

You both groan simultaneously at the feeling.

Neither of you move, content with kissing. Only when the need to breathe becomes important did you separate. Foreheads touching, eyes staring deeply into yours as she starts rocking.

You hold her waist. Let her control the pace.

Her fingers move, gently grazes your jaw as she moans. As loud as she wants.

You’ve never seen anything more beautiful.

The way she sits up, one hand messing with hair. The way she looks down at you, eyes darkening as bites her bottom lip.

She’s losing it. Her rhythm, her voice.

You don’t want it to end.

She’s surprised when you lift, legs locking onto your waist. Her hands cup your face, kisses you desperately.

You turn, placing her onto the couch. She’s on her knees, facing the window, twinkling with lights outside.

You crouch behind her. Enter her slow. She bites her knuckles, eyes squeezed tight.

Only when you’re fully in do you move, matching the same pace as before. Long. Slow. You’re pressed into her back, one hand on her waist, the other just below her neck.

“F—fuck…”

You feel her tears fall onto your arm, hear the way she scratches the back of the couch with both hands. You pull one arm up, intertwine your fingers together as you get closer to release.

She’s louder now. You are too, breathing into her ear. You bite down on her shoulder to stop a loud moan. She pushes back against you, arching her back further.

She turns to face you, face covered in sweat, hair sticking. She captures your lips in a messy kiss as the hand on her waist finds her clit.

“Fuck. F—fuck…”

Her orgasm hits hard, moans muffled by your mouth. Holds onto your intertwined fingers tightly.

You keep going, prolonging her pleasure until you release into her.

You stay like that for what felt like hours. Heart racing. You wait until her breathing’s under control before you move, both of you moaning at the loss.

You sit beside her. She collapses into you before her head falls onto your lap. She looks up. Satisfied. Smiling.

“Feel better?”

“Hmm. Much.”

You smile, threading your fingers through her hair. You watch as she hums, closes her eyes and relax.

——

“Oh shit.”

She’s sitting on the counter in only your dress shirt, swinging her feet as you chop vegetables beside her. She grabs a piece. You open your mouth, still chopping as she places it in. You tease her by gently biting her finger. She slaps you on the shoulder.

“What is it?”

She turns her phone screen toward you. Placing the knife on the chopping board, you walk until you’re between her legs, reading the news article. You ignore the way her breathing stutters as you place your hands on her bare thighs.

“Shit.”

The company has taken a hit. A really bad one. Stocks free falling. The manager that you beat to a pulp at the centre of it all. Selling secrets to competitors. Private chats about the women in the office.

Your hand clenches.

“Ow.”

“Sorry.” You let go of her thigh, rubbing where you grabbed it too hard. You don’t notice that you’re caressing her higher than before, still engrossed in the article.

She locks her phone screen, places it on the counter beside her.

“Hey. I was reading that.”

She gently tilts your chin up. “Look at me.”

You meet her eyes. She’s searching your face.

“You okay?”

You exhale. You didn’t realise you were holding your breath.

“I’m—” You stop. Are you okay?

“You were right,” she says softly. “What you did. You were right.”

“I know.”

“Do you?” She cups your face. “Because you look like you want to hit him again.”

You laugh. It’s sharp, humourless. “I do.”

She nods. Doesn’t tell you that’s wrong. Doesn’t tell you to let it go.

“All the women he did that to. If I could go back,” you say slowly, “I’d do it again. Harder.”

“I know.”

You rest your forehead against her shoulder. Close your eyes.

“I’m glad you’re not there anymore. That place was poison,” she whispers.

“That place was poison.”

You pull back. Look at her.

“Are you okay? Being there without me?”

She smiles. Small, but real.

“I’m looking for other jobs.”

Your heart skips.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” She kisses you. Quick, soft. “I’m done with that place too.”

——

You play with the collar of your dress shirt. It’s too tight round your neck, you’re suffocating.

“Stop that. She’d kill you if you mess with it.”

You stare at her through her vanity mirror. She puts on the final touches of makeup, checks herself before giving you a wink and kiss in the reflection.

She moves towards you, takes the tie from your hand before helping you with it.

“I still can’t believe she’s getting married.”

“Why? You still have a crush on her?” She pulls your tie too hard, making you splutter.

You had to tap her hand to get her to release.

You cough. “I’m just saying. She left the company same time as you. When was that? Two years ago? And she’s getting married already? Isn’t that too soon?”

She pats your shoulder. “Just be happy for her.” She leaves you standing there, moving to the living room.

You can’t help but stare, wishing she’d wear dresses more often. Thin straps, the hem just barely reaching her knees. The pastel pink colour. Not to mention the headband.

You love her.

“Come on. We’re going to be late.”

You follow her to the front door. You kneel down, help her with her heels as she holds you for stability. You let your fingers linger on her calf, rising to her thighs before she pushes you off.

“We don’t have time.”

You laugh, putting your shoes on. As soon as you were about to open the door, she stops you.

“Wait.”

She reaches down, pulls her panties down before handing them to you. She smiles and winks at you, gives you a quick kiss before heading out first.

You look at them, eyes wide. You stuff them into your pocket, running after her.

“Are you sure we can’t be late?”

She laughs.

“Yeah! It—”

“Got it!” she chirps, grabbing her water bottle and turning away.

Eh? That easy? No, she surely got something more in mind, this is Nien we’re talking about. 

“Whoa.”

Though whatever that is can wait as you pull yourself up and watch her saunter over to the water dispenser. You are but a pig and Nien’s thighs are two juicy carrots, all out in their sweat-shined glory thanks to her tennis skirt.

Water bottle refilled, the main attraction shifts to her toned abs, flexing with every step towards you. You could be drooling right now, you wouldn't know. Not when it joins the river of sweat on your face, and all the space behind it is occupied by awe. In awe that she is somehow your girlfriend.

Nien’s amused giggle brings you back to her bright, full-faced smile; one of the few things that has the power to tear your eyes away from her body. 

Smiling back at her, you extend your hand. But instead of handing you the bottle, she pours the contents all over your legs, cackling as you squirm in surprise. 

“Ah! Huh—why…what was that for?”

“Tada!” Nien shakes out the last drips, setting the bottle aside. “Now your legs aren’t on fire anymore! I’ve put it out, heh.”

“The—what…really?” you chuckle, caught between amusement and frustration.

“Mhm! Now…” She claps her hands, leaning over with a determined expression. “One. More. Set. Come on, get up!”

You flop back to the floor, whining. “I can’t! It’s too—agh!” Nien yanks you up on your forearms, pushing you against a chest press.

“Baby. Listen to me.” Her voice is an octave lower, her usual sunny beam bringing along its blaze this time. “Are you actually injured?”

You gulp and peer down at your legs, wiggling them a tiny bit. “N–No.”

“Can you move them?”

More of a swing this time around. It’s difficult and makes you wince, but there seems to be a decent range of motion still. “Yes.”

Nien’s grip loosens slightly, holding your biceps rather than gripping them. “Do you want to make them stronger?”

You slowly nod, eyes warming up for some reason. “Y–Yes. Yes, I do.”

Her fiery gaze cools back down to a warm beam, her hands pushing aside the damp hair stuck to your forehead. “Then we do one more—you know what? Let’s just go for six reps this set. That’s it. Then we’re done.”

“Just six?” you croak, lighting up a bit.

“Yup! Just six.”

“Okay.” Your nods are firmer, more certain. “Let’s…let’s do this.”

“Attaboy,” she grins, tapping your shoulders and stepping aside. Letting out a long exhale, you grit and get back onto the leg curling machine, groaning loudly as you get in position.

“Ready?”

“Yup.”

“And go. Up! One.” Wow. Your hamstrings immediately protest, but you just about manage. “Up! Two.” You can’t let their protests drown out your desire though; another hefty pull. “Three!” Fuck, you’re real tempted to just let them win, unable to do this one without shaking. 

“Four! Let’s go, you got it, babe!” So you’re shaking. As long as you move, that’s all that matters. “Don’t stop now, come on! Up! Five!” Oh jeez, no way you’re going all the wa—okay, just…maintain your form. Prioritize that. Just one more. 

“And…up! Six!” Let’s. Fucking. Go! “Urghh! There! Wow! I did it! I d—”

“I didn’t say we’re done!” she spits, clapping her hands. “Up! Come on! Keep going!”   

What the fuck? Didn’t we agree to six—oh, whatever. You’re in the flow of compliance, so you pull another rep, snarling the whole time as it’s the only way you’ll breathe properly. 

“Seven! Good, one more!” You don’t know how you got here; your legs would be screaming on top of their lungs if they had a pair, your whole body is shaking, and yet. You grind towards another rep, your vocals matching the raised hurdle. 

“Eight! Awesome! Just one more now, one more!” 

“Oh my—honey! Nien! Please!” you wheeze, borderline sobbing. “I can’t—”

“Uh–uh! Don’t say that—don’t say anything! Just…try! Pull! Come on!” She leans in, closer to your head. “Up!”

“Urghh!” It feels impossible, sounds impossible, but you bite down hard and somehow thinly manage another rep, even if you only go half as far. “Nine! You’re doing great. One more, baby!”

Forget questioning it. This ends when she says it ends…or when you break. Whichever comes first. “Pfffff!” Try as you might, summon every molecule of reserve energy you have, you can’t do it. You bounce back weakly, not enough breath to verbally protest.

“Well done. Great job, baby,” Nien coos, helping you off the machine. You stumble and fall right into her arms, she lowers to the floor to accommodate. 

“You said—” Your throat’s dry from all the panting, only airy wheezes until she hands you the water bottle that’s actually for drinking. “Shhh…slowly, baby. Well done, you’ve earned it.”

   “You said we…we were only doing six!” you scowl, looking away from her to sulk. Nien chuckles and starts caressing your temple, lightly playing with your hair.

“And look how many you could actually do,” she whispers, holding up her fingers. “Nine—almost ten! Awesome, right?” 

You look at her again, your pursed lips stretching into a half smile at the sight of her proud grin. “That was—” Heavy coughs cut you off, which she helps by tapping your back as you sit up. 

“That was…” You look back at the machine, your half smirk growing into a full smile as your breathing levels off. “ …pretty awesome.”

“Hmph. Now you know. So don’t ever…” Nien pulls you in again, making you squeal as she lands multiple firm pecks on your cheek. “ …parrot that ‘I can’t’ bullshit again. Got it?”

“Got—got it! That—mmphh!” you barely get out before she goes for your lips next, and on this one you bounce back, sending her squealing and giggling to the floor. 

“Is this your way of pampering me after all that?” you whisper before attacking her cheeks, which she wholeheartedly welcomes.

“Maybe? What, I can’t pamper my sweet man after all that? When he looks this cute?” she pouts, poking your nose and deploying her puppy dog eyes that you’ve yet to develop effective defenses for (and likely never will).

“Tsk. I never said that.” You dash a quick kiss at her lips before lying down next to her, letting your breaths and the gym’s ambient noises settle. 

“That was pretty fucking intense though, not gonna lie,” you huff, rubbing your thighs. 

“Well…” Nien turns over and throws her leg over you. “ …if we’re gonna raise your limits, we gotta push you to your current one. And you won’t do that if you don’t believe.”

“True,” you nod, grimacing to turn over so you can cup her cheeks. “And now thanks to you, I can.”

“Tsch. That was your hard work, you know. I just said some words.”

“And I wouldn’t have done shit without those words.”

“And you…” She pokes your nose with a ‘boop’ sound. “ …made the decision to listen to them. To ignore what you think and do what you can!”

“Hmph. You’re always so nice to me,” you puff, nuzzling in her shoulder. 

“Because you’re not nicer to yourself!” she grumbles, ruffling your hair. “You’re much stronger than you think.”

“Heh. You really think so?”

“Mhm! I’m pretty sure I can prove it, even. Right now.”

You look up at her with a cocked eyebrow. “Oh? And how’s that?” That cheeky, mischievous smirk is back on her face, which you were about to entertain until you feel her slowly grind on your crotch, making you gasp.

“Honey?”

“Mmm…you looked really strong and manly back there. You were so hot…”

Those low, breathy words uttered through Nien’s cheeky expression makes your spine tingle, some heat pooling in your stomach as she continues to rock against you gently. “N–Nien…”

“See, you’ve still got some juice left, don’t you?” she purrs, shifting closer to your ear. “Wanna use it up on me?”

“Nngghhh…” You bite your lip and clutch her sleeve, your erection fully clocked in as it slides between her covered folds. “F–Fuck yeah!”

Nien chuckles and maintains her expression, though her eyes start to waver along with her airier voice. “Then we should hurry on home. But…” She reaches into your shorts, a sharp moan spilling as you flinch. “ …if you can carry me to the locker room, we’ll do it right now.”

“You…serious?”

“Yeah,” she replies breathlessly. “Walls are thick enough, shouldn’t wake the poor receptionist, hehe.”

“If it doesn’t work—” You shudder as she slowly rubs your leaking tip. “—we’ll be banned from here, won’t we?”

“So we find another gym. What’d I say about—ah…” Your hand slides down her exposed back to knead her ass. “Cheater. What’d I say about that attitude?”

“Right.”

“So?” She takes her hand out of your shorts only to suck on her fingers right in front of you. “Still feeling like you’re all spent?”

Your eyes scan the empty gym, landing on the entrance to the locker rooms. It’s a bit of a distance, not something you previously thought would be feasible.

“Hell no.” But you’re not the previous you. Not with Nien.

You clamber to stand up, trying to find a somewhat secure footing. Your legs expectedly wobble and threaten to buckle, but the thing between them has a much louder voice, so you listen to that. 

As soon as you seem secure enough, Nien leaps into your arms, coming nerve-reckingly close to toppling you over. “You ready? Deal’s off if you drop me before you get in.”

“You bet.”

You begin the journey across the gym. Somehow, your leg’s strength returned, making the trip without too many hiccups. Though unlike Palpatine’s return, its reasoning is plentiful and sound. 

For starters, there’s her lips and neck which your mouth seldom leaves, only pulling away to navigate between the machines lest any bumps waste your precious momentum. Then there’s her firm, yet supple asscheeks, filling out your palms and then some. 

There’s the tightness in your shorts, its resident fiending to be reunited with her throbbing heat just behind the fabrics. Not to mention her scent; sweat, deodorant, perfume, makeup, detergent, everything. And then the sounds she makes into your mouth and ear; an addicting mix of giggles, whispers, and those delightful high-pitched moans of hers.

It’s just everything her, really. Everything Nien. Everything about this unfair combo of cute, sexy, heartfelt, dominating, supportive—you’d wear out a typewriter before you run out of ways to describe her. Not that it’s something you ever want to achieve, anyway.

The locker room door thuds against her back like an abrupt jumpcut back to reality, opened with a thrilled shudder from Nien. “Wow, you…you actually made it. I was right!”

Huh. You did. Where’d all that pain go—oh, here it is. “Of–of course I did. Who am I?” you flaunt, setting her down on the changing bench.

“Mmm…cocky, are we?”

“All thanks to you.” You pull away properly at last, dropping to your knees which puts you right in line with her glossy toned abs. You give just one glance at her for confirmation before you start feasting on them, licking up every surface inch you can manage without turning her over.

Nien maintains her cheeky, jovial demeanour, though larger and larger cracks seep through every time you make a close pass above her waistband. Satisfied with her abs, you drag your tongue flat, up from her belly button to just beneath her top.

She lets out an audible gasp, her jaws dropped as you pause with your nose nudged beneath her boobs.

“You’re p–pretty thirsty tonight, huh?”

“Well, it was quite the workout for me so…” You slide your fingers under her top and yank it upwards, freeing her tits. “ …forgive me for being famished.”

Nien’s laugh is cut off by your firm suck at her breast, humming onto the soft flesh. Only one of them though, the curtains need to be drawn for the full show to start. So you try to pull her top off all the way, your impatience only creating a hurdle.

“Here, let me do it.” Nien pulls it off with grace, tossing it onto the other end of the bench. Her hair got all ruffled as a result, and God it makes her look even hotter. You can’t resist taking a detour to her mouth again, lightly chewing on her lip as you pull away.

“You are so fucking hot.”

Yeah, just saying it in your head wasn’t enough. Especially as you’re reduced to low, breathy hums for the next few minutes, worshipping her collarbones, shoulders—all sweet appetisers before the first course.

“And you’re a buffet and a half.” 

Starting with a different tit from the teaser. Your lips stretch to fill as much of your mouth with her, twiddling on her rock hard peaks. Longer, less restrained moans join her pants and squeaks, her palms pushing you into her while yours knead and squeeze the other breast.

Not to deprive said breast of your mouth, of course. You switch over and get more daring, lightly nibbling on her nipples with your teeth. Nien lets out a sharp moan, her fingers pulling on your hair by accident. “Ngghh, sorry!” she keens, massaging the offended spot on your scalp.

You finish up on her tits, giving each a farewell smooch before moving on…back up her body. Those tantalizing pits of hers. Never tried them before, worse times to give them a go.

It is without warning though, catching her off-guard as you nosedive into one. 

“Oh! S–Sorry. I wanted to…does it feel bad?”

Nien looks you over in awe before shaking her head. “No, but…give me a heads up next time.”

“Gotcha. My bad.” Now the light is on and green, you get back to it. Dragging your nose along the bumpy, thinly shaven surface, your tongue close in tow. The new sensation overrides her usual restraints, her noises getting louder still.

“Gah! Mm…that—it, weird, but–but good weird. Keep going.”

And you do. Going for her other pit, giving it the same treatment. You weren’t particularly into this at first, just entertaining a curiosity. But it’s better than you thought. Will definitely return on occasion. Or on the regular, who knows?

What you are a regular for is coming up next though, hidden beneath her skirt. You’d prefer keeping them on if they were just open underneath, but alas there are integrated shorts. 

You hook your fingers into the waistband and slowly peel them away, catching her panties along with it. At long last, there they are. Pink, swollen, and leaking like a broken tap thanks to your efforts.

“God, we are so fucked if someone walks in here right now,” she laughs breathlessly, peering at the door. Right, you’ve been so lost in her you forgot you’re doing all this in a public space at two in the morning.

“Ha. That’s the thrill of it. They’re welcome to join though, right?”

“Fuck no.” Nien lifts your chin with the toe of her shoe, all of the mischief gone from her eyes. “I’m not sharing you with anybody, you hear me? They should be privileged to watch.”

You swallow, lightly terrified and heavily aroused. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Good. Now eat me out already, thought you said you were famished?”

As true as that is, you don’t go straight for them, oh no. Even the bit of waist previously under her skirt gets attention, every drop of sweat lapped up by your ever so diligent tongue. “I also said you’re a buffet, so I’m enjoying every dish I can.”

About time for the main course. Your mouth works from the outside in, gliding closer and closer to her core. When you reach her outer folds, it’s like she shifts into a higher gear. Her entire body lurches, her back arches sharply, her thick thighs crushing your head.

Nien lets out her loudest moan of the evening yet, her hands scrambling for purchase on the edges of the bench. You have no such problems with how tight she’s locked you in, and you get to work. 

And boy, is it worth the wait. It’s hard to exaggerate just how good she tastes as you slurp up her nectar with a dash of sweat.  Keeping good health and diets definitely pay off, no matter how small the increments may be. Forget all those sugary sports drinks, you’ll take Nien over them any day of the week.

Feasting on her is barely a figure of speech. You suck, slurp, lick, prod your tongue—just short of actually gnawing on her flesh. But like any human sense, going at it for too long at once might make you numb to it. You can’t have that, can you?

So you do your best to shimmy out of her thighs, letting your fingers fill in for your mouth; they’re like package deals now, you can’t leave the other idle while one is getting action. Though as good as her hot, moist walls clenching around your fingers feel, it doesn’t quite match her flavour on your tongue.

Not to worry. Nien’s desperate babbles give it a run for its money as she unravels above you. Even better are the screams she lets out in between, now fully audible since your ears aren’t muffled. Yes, that’s something that still leaves you awestruck to this day. Just how much of a screamer Nien is once she’s in the zone. If someone outside couldn’t hear her before, they likely can at this point.

“Baby—babe—gnghhh! You—ahh! It…don’t stuh—don’t stop!” Oh, she’s getting close. Won’t be on your fingers though, no way. You pull them out to her dismay, which you pamper by offering said fingers to her. She takes them in straight away, not dissimilar to how you were with her body earlier.

While her mouth is busy upstairs, yours finish the job downstairs. Becoming more erratic, rubbing your whole face all around her slit, tripping breakpoints you didn’t know she had. And with her next scream bit down on your fingers, she shatters.

She was already leaking profusely and still a torrent blasts you in the face, half of it ending up everywhere but your mouth. You remedy that as soon as she loosens her legs enough, lapping up the wet trails down her inner thighs to just above her socks. 

Honestly, you want to pull them off and indulge that extra toe-sucking goodness, but your dick’s waited long enough. You make your shorts scarce and kick it away, sharing a momentary soft kiss to let her get a taste and cool down. 

Your next green signal? Nien’s hand reaching down to pump you, giggling as she rolls her thumbs on your slit. You groan and scoop her up again, stumbling towards the side of the room.

“You want it like this, babe?” she asks, hugging you tight as her back meets a locker.

“Yeah.” Lining yourself up, you take a deep breath. “Wanted to—ahh…” You slide into her slowly before slamming home, rattling all the lockers behind her. “Wanted to see about that…reserved strength theory.”

“Well, you—” Nien gasps, clutching your hair as you twitch inside her. “You watch yourself, alright? Don’t…force it if–if you can’t…mmhhh.”

“Eh, I'll manage. Trust.”

“Good.”

You thrust with a moderate heft, though at a slightly odd angle compared to usual thanks to your worked out legs. It works out just as well if not better though, rubbing against her entire clit. Soon enough her screams surface again, right next to your ear. 

You match the decibels with your hertz, pounding the lights out of her and making an absolute racket of the lockers behind you, what with many of them having open doors. It’s loud and messy and likely breaks a good few laws, but you both are far beyond caring.

Your release starts gathering near the door so you stop, kissing her sloppily as you carry her back to the bench. “I…I wanna—urgh!” Your trembling legs give way at just the right time, planting her back on the stained bench. “I wanna cum on your abs, honey. Want…paint them white.”

Nien snickers, brushing your hair and kissing your nose. “Go ahead, baby. I’m your canvas,” she whispers, spreading her legs so you have room to pull out.

And you’re Bob Ross. Time for your own Liquid White—no, that’s the base. Plenty of that on her abs. You’re looking to get Titanium White on there, yes yes. 

You aren’t done with her pussy quite yet though, better it than your hands. Rolling your hips slow and deep; the feeling is all that matters now. It always is, should be as another of her climax is on the horizon, her moans getting thinner.

Your mouth goes to hers so she can shriek into it, which she does seconds later. Her legs curve inwards, slightly trapping you in place. Shouldn’t be much of a problem though, you still have plenty of—

“Oh! Ahh, wait! Honey!”

The earlier tryst against the lockers used up your precious energy, making you burst the moment you start to pull out. Her pussy doesn’t waste a second, its spasms milking your cock. Feeling this, Nien fully wraps her legs around you, pressing you flush with her.

“Thought—mmm…thought you wanted to paint my abs?” she asks, half-chuckling half-moaning. 

“It—my…I couldn’t—too much, I guess,” you squeak in response, emptying your last spurts into her. Ah, well. Her pussy’s still your favourite finish line, just wished you’d take a different route this time.

You shiver as you pull out, thick cloudy globules following your exit. You weakly chuckle at the sight, slumping to the floor next to her to catch your breath.

“Looks like you…” she pants, swiping a bit of your cum to taste it. “ …need some more training.”

“Yeah,” you nod, licking your lips. “Wait, you mean next week, right?”

“Of course, I’m not trying to kill you!” She exhales loudly and turns over, chin resting on her elbow. “Next week, core strength. We’ve barely started, baby. You’re gonna be so strong and healthy.”

You chuckle shyly, leaning in to kiss her, brushing aside damp hair. “I’ll trust you fully with this, honey.”

“Mhm! And you gotta believe in yourself, remember that.” Nien groans and sits back up, looking around the now humid, warm space. “Let’s clean up and go home. I’d fancy not being banned from here, it’s really nice.”

“Yeah. There’s no—oh! Wow!” You wobble like an air dancer upon trying to stand up, landing back down on the bench. “Honey, can you drive us home? There’s no way I’m…whoa.”

Nien laughs and sits behind you, giving a quick back massage. “Of course, baby. I was gonna do that anyways,” she coos, pecking your ear.

You let out satisfied sighs at her massage, slowly melting back into her arms. She nuzzles in your shoulder, gently rocking side-to-side.

“Thank you, honey.”

“No problem.”

“No, I mean…thank you.” You open your eyes and face her. “For not giving up on me. For doing everything you could to keep me going. Thank you.”

Nien smiles and kisses your forehead, hugging you. “Of course. We promised, remember?” she whispers, tapping your back softly. “But thank me properly when you can beat me in arms wrestling!”

“Mm…so, never? Heat death of the universe, perhaps?”

She pulls back and glares at you, clicking her tongue. “Babe?”

“I’m kidding! Attitude, belief, yes! I’ll beat you fair and square—heck, I’ll beat you in everything, watch.”

Nien cringes and tilts her head, humming. “Eh…not everything, no way. But I like that! Mind and body gotta work together.”

“For s—” A loud thud in the distance interrupts you. It takes a few to register what it was, but then it’s clear as day. “Shit! The front door. Someone’s actually here!”

The sound of their bodies colliding—the wet, slapping noise of skin hitting skin—was rhythmic and relentless. Kaede was completely undone, her body arching like a bow every time he hit that sweet spot. She felt her walls clenching around him, milking him with every desperate spasm. "I can't… I can't take it! It's too big… ahhh! I'm coming! I'm coming!"

She exploded into a violent orgasm, her internal muscles gripping his shaft in tight, rhythmic pulses. Her screams peaked, a high-pitched, breathless sound of pure surrender as she shuddered beneath him, her vision blurring into white light.

In the room next door, the romantic movie playing on the laptop was completely forgotten. Hyerin and Sullin were sitting close together on the bed, but they weren't paying attention to the screen. Their entire focus was tuned to the wall they shared with Kaede.

Hyerin was leaning back against the wall, her breath coming in shallow hitches. She could hear everything—the bed frame creaking violently, the wet sounds of penetration, and most of all, Kaede’s unfiltered, primal screams. It was a sound of absolute pleasure, a sound that made Hyerin’s own core throb with a sudden, aching emptiness.

"Do you hear that?" Hyerin whispered, her voice trembling. She shifted her position, rubbing her thighs together. "She sounds… she sounds like she's dying and being born at the same time."

Sullin was curled up beside her, her face flushed a deep crimson. She had her hand slipped beneath the waistband of her pajama shorts, her fingers working frantically against her own clitoris. Every time Kaede let out a particularly loud moan, Sullin’s hips jerked involuntarily.

"I can't stop thinking about it," Sullin whimpered, her voice thick with arousal. "I can imagine him… just hammering into her like that. He must be huge to make Kaede-unnie scream like that. I bet he's just… stretching her open."

Hyerin turned to look at Sullin, seeing the glazed look in her eyes and the way her chest heaved. The tension between the two girls shifted from mere curiosity to a shared, burning hunger. Hyerin reached over, sliding her hand over Sullin’s breast, squeezing the soft flesh through the fabric of her shirt.

"Imagine if it was us," Hyerin murmured, leaning closer until their lips were almost touching. "Imagine that cock sliding into us instead. I want to feel that kind of power. I want to know why she's making those sounds."

Sullin let out a soft moan, leaning into Hyerin’s touch. "You think he'd… you think he'd want us? He's Kaede-unnie's."

"He's a man, Sullin," Hyerin whispered, her eyes darkening. "And we're right here. We're young, we're hungry… and we're listening to him fuck our friend. It's driving me crazy. I can feel my pussy dripping just listening to them."

Sullin gasped, her fingers moving faster. "Me too. I'm so wet… I just want to feel him stretch me. I want to hear him groan in my ear while he ruins me."

The two girls spent the next hour in a state of heightened arousal, feeding off each other's fantasies while the sounds from the next room continued. They whispered dirty things to one another, describing exactly how they would take Y/N, how they would compete for his attention, and how they would let him use their bodies until they were as spent and broken as Kaede sounded.

Eventually, the noise subsided. The sounds of heavy breathing and afterglow whispers drifted through the wall, followed by the sound of Y/N dressing and eventually leaving the room.

Kaede remained in her room for a while, floating in the hazy aftermath of her climax. When she finally emerged to head to the kitchen for some water, she found Hyerin and Sullin waiting for her in the hallway.

The sight of them stopped her in her tracks. Both girls looked disheveled; their hair was messy, their cheeks were flushed, and there was a predatory, hungry look in their eyes that Kaede had never seen before. They weren't looking at her as their unnie; they were looking at her as the gatekeeper to the man who had just spent the last hour ravishing her.

"Unnie," Hyerin started, her voice low and slightly husky. She stepped closer, her eyes scanning Kaede’s swollen lips and the slight tremor still present in her legs. "We heard everything."

Kaede froze, her face turning bright red. "You… you did? Oh my god, I'm so sorry! I didn't realize we were being that loud…"

Sullin stepped forward, her gaze intense. "Don't be sorry, unnie. It sounded… incredible. We couldn't even focus on our movie. We couldn't focus on anything except the sound of him inside you."

Kaede blinked, surprised by the bluntness. "What do you mean?"

Hyerin reached out, gently touching Kaede’s arm. "We're horny, Kaede. Really horny. And knowing that Y/N is the one making you scream like that… it's done something to us. We can't stop thinking about him."

Sullin leaned in, her voice a desperate plea. "Please, unnie. We know he's your boyfriend, and we know it's a lot to ask… but could you let us? Could you let us seduce him? We want to feel him. We want to know what it's like to be fucked by him."

Kaede felt a wave of conflict wash over her. On one hand, Y/N was hers. On the other, she looked at her two bandmates—beautiful, longing, and clearly aching for release. She felt a sudden pang of guilt. She was the only one in the dorm with a partner, the only one getting her needs met in such an explosive way. Seeing them so flushed and desperate made her heart ache with a strange kind of empathy.

She looked from Hyerin to Sullin, seeing the raw desire in their eyes. A naughty, daring thought crossed her mind. Why should she be the only one to enjoy him? If she shared him, it wouldn't mean she loved him less—it would just mean more pleasure for everyone involved.

A small, mischievous smile played on Kaede’s lips as she looked at the two girls.

"You both really want him that badly?" Kaede asked, her voice softening.

Hyerin and Sullin nodded vigorously, their breath hitching in anticipation.

Kaede sighed, a playful glint in her eyes. "Fine. I can't have my members walking around this dorm in such a state of frustration. I'll let you have him. You can both try to seduce him next time he comes over."

The next evening, Y/N arrived at the TripleS dormitory with a familiar, pulsing anticipation between his legs. His mind was already racing, imagining the various ways he would bend Kaede over her bed and the high-pitched, desperate screams she would let out as he hammered into her. He let himself in, moving with the confidence of a man who had spent a year claiming this territory, and headed straight for Kaede’s room.

When he pushed the door open, however, he stopped dead. Kaede wasn't waiting for him in a lace bra-panties set or stripped bare. She was fully clothed in a casual oversized sweater and leggings, sitting on the edge of her bed with a playful, mysterious smile on her face.

"Hey, babe," she said, her voice humming with a secret.

Y/N blinked, confused. "What's… what's going on? You're dressed. I thought we were going to get straight to it."

Kaede chuckled, her thumbs flying across her phone screen. She was sending a quick text to Hyerin and Sullin, telling them to get into position right outside the door. "I have a surprise for you, Y/N. A very special one."

Y/N felt a sudden spike of anxiety. His mind flashed back to a few weeks prior, a moment where he had let his gaze linger a bit too long on Sullin’s thick, powerful thighs while she was practicing a dance routine. He wondered if she had told Kaede, or if Kaede had caught him staring. He felt his face heat up, a wave of embarrassment washing over him.

"Look, if this is about… you know… Sullin," Y/N stammered, rubbing the back of his neck. "I didn't mean anything by it, I just—"

Kaede burst out laughing, standing up and walking toward him. She wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him close. "Oh, you sweet, idiot man. I know you like those thighs. I've seen the way you look at her. And honestly? I don't mind."

Y/N looked at her, bewildered. "You don't?"

"No," Kaede whispered, her eyes gleaming. "I love you, and I love my girls. I've been the only one getting my needs met in this house, and it feels selfish. Hyerin and Sullin are so stressed, so tense… and they're so incredibly horny for you. I want them to be happy. I want them to be well taken care of. So tonight, I'm sharing."

Before Y/N could even process the words, the door creaked open. Hyerin and Sullin stepped inside, and the air in the room instantly shifted, becoming heavy with a thick, electric charge of lust. Both girls were dressed in skimpy sleepwear that left very little to the imagination. Hyerin was in a sheer camisole, her nipples poking through the fabric, while Sullin wore short silk shorts that struggled to contain the lush curve of her thick thighs.

"Hi, Y/N," Hyerin purred, her voice a low, sultry vibration.

Sullin didn't even speak; she moved in like a predator. She stepped behind Y/N, her soft breasts pressing against his back as she wrapped her arms around his waist. She tilted her head up, her lips finding the sensitive skin of his neck, sucking and biting softly, sending jolts of electricity straight to his groin.

At the same time, Hyerin stepped in front of him. Her eyes were locked onto his, dark and dilated. She reached down, her hand sliding firmly over the front of his jeans. She groaned as she felt the massive, hard bulge of his cock straining against the denim. She began to palm him, squeezing and rubbing the length of his shaft through the fabric, her movements slow and deliberate.

"God, you're so hard already," Hyerin whispered, her breath hot against his lips. "We've been dreaming about this since yesterday. We couldn't stop thinking about the sounds Kaede-unnie was making."

Y/N let out a low groan, his head falling back against Sullin’s shoulder. The double assault was overwhelming. He looked at Kaede, who was watching them with a look of pure, voyeuristic satisfaction.

"Go on," Kaede whispered, gesturing toward the door. "Take him to your room. I'll be watching from the hallway."

The two girls didn't need to be told twice. They practically dragged Y/N out of the room and into their shared space. The moment the door clicked shut, the restraint vanished. Hyerin and Sullin fell upon him with a feral intensity. They worked together, their small hands frantic as they fumbled with his belt and zipped down his pants.

When his cock finally sprang free, thick and pulsing, both girls gasped. It was even more impressive than they had imagined from the sounds they'd heard through the wall.

"Look at it," Sullin whimpered, her eyes wide. "It's huge."

They dropped to their knees simultaneously. The scene became a blur of wet, sloppy sounds. Hyerin took the head, her tongue swirling around the crown, licking the pre-cum with a hungry desperation. Sullin dove lower, her mouth engulfing the base, her tongue licking the veins that ran along the shaft.

They began to share him, their lips meeting and clashing as they fought for space on his cock. It was a wild, sloppy exchange of saliva and lust, their tongues tangling together while they sucked him with everything they had. Y/N gripped their hair, his hips jerking involuntarily as the vacuum of their mouths worked him over.

"I want it first!" Sullin suddenly gasped, pulling away for a second, her lips glistening with his fluids. "I can't wait anymore! I need it inside me!"

Hyerin glared at her, her own pussy dripping through her panties. "No fair! I was the one who got him hard!"

Sullin’s eyes flashed with desperation. She knew she had to make a deal. "Hyerin! If you let me go first, I swear… I'll eat your pussy every single night for the rest of the week. Every. Single. Night. Until you're shaking."

Hyerin paused, her breath hitching. The thought of Sullin’s tongue on her for a week was too tempting to pass up. She let out a shaky breath and nodded. "Deal. Go on then, you greedy bitch."

Sullin didn't waste a heartbeat. She stood up, stripping off her silk shorts and panties in one fluid motion, revealing a plump, soaking wet pussy and those legendary thick thighs. She walked over to the sturdy wooden desk in the corner of the room and hiked herself up, sitting on the edge with her legs spread wide, exposing her glistening folds to the air.

"Come here, Y/N," she begged, her voice breaking. "Please… fuck me. Stretch me open. I want to feel every inch of you."

Y/N didn't need further invitation. He stepped between her legs, his cock throbbing. He gripped her thick thighs, pulling her to the very edge of the desk, and with one powerful, driving thrust, he buried himself deep inside her.

"OH GOD! YES!" Sullin screamed, her back arching, her fingers digging into the wood of the desk. "FUCK! You're so big! You're filling me up completely!"

Y/N began to move, his strokes long and punishing. He bottomed out with every thrust, the sound of their bodies colliding—the wet, slapping noise of his balls hitting her ass—filling the room. Sullin’s legs locked around his waist, her powerful thighs squeezing him tight, pulling him deeper into her heat.

Meanwhile, Hyerin had retreated to the bed. She lay back, her legs spread, her fingers working her own clitoris in a frantic rhythm. She wasn't just watching; she was directing.

"Harder, Y/N! Give it to her harder!" Hyerin commanded, her voice strained with arousal. "Sullin, look at him! Look at how he's ruining you! Tell him how it feels! Tell him how much you love being stretched!"

"It's… ahhh! It's too much! I love it!" Sullin wailed, her voice echoing through the dormitory. "Fuck me harder, Y/N! Break me! Make the whole house hear me!"

Y/N obeyed, his pace becoming brutal. He hammered into Sullin with a rhythmic, violent intensity. The desk began to shake under the force of his thrusts, the heavy furniture rattling against the wall. The vibrations traveled through the floor and into the walls, the sound of Sullin’s primal moans carrying through the vents and hallways.

The noise was impossible to ignore. In a room further down the hallway, Jiwoo and Yubin were already locked in their own battle of pleasure. Jiwoo, possessing a thick, impressive girl cock, had Yubin pinned against the wall, her legs wrapped around Jiwoo's waist.

Jiwoo was pounding into Yubin's pussy with a relentless drive, her movements mirrored by Yubin's frantic gasps. But as Sullin’s screams began to filter through the walls, something shifted. Hearing the raw, unfiltered lust of their groupmate—hearing the sounds of a man absolutely ravishing Sullin—sent a surge of adrenaline through Jiwoo.

"Listen to her, Yubin," Jiwoo groaned, her voice deep and guttural. "Sullin is getting fucked so hard… it's making me want to split you in half."

Yubin let out a loud moan, her head tossing back. "Yes! Do it! Fuck me like that! Make me scream as loud as she is!"

Driven by the auditory stimulation, Jiwoo gripped Yubin’s hips and began to slam into her with renewed vigor. The sound of their wet collisions joined the symphony of lust echoing through the dorm. Jiwoo’s cock buried itself deep, hitting Yubin’s cervix with every strike, making Yubin wail in a mixture of pain and absolute ecstasy.

Downstairs, the atmosphere was just as charged. Yeonji and Soomin were entwined on the couch, their clothes half-off. Soomin was perched in Yeonji’s lap, her legs wrapped around her, grinding her soaking wet pussy against Yeonji’s thigh.

They were kissing furiously, a desperate, tongue-clashing battle for dominance. Their breaths were shallow, their hearts racing. As the sounds of the threesome upstairs reached a crescendo—the rattling of the desk, the screams of Sullin, the commands of Hyerin—Soomin let out a whimper of pure need.

"Do you hear them?" Soomin whispered against Yeonji's lips, her body shivering. "The whole house… it's like the air is on fire."

Yeonji groaned, her hands sliding under Soomin’s shirt to squeeze her breasts. "It's driving me crazy. I can feel you dripping on me, Soomin. You're so wet."

Soomin responded by grinding her hips harder, her clitoris rubbing against Yeonji’s leg in a frantic search for friction. They dove back into their kiss, their tongues swirling, their bodies fusing together as they fed off the collective arousal vibrating through the building.

Back in the bedroom, Sullin was reaching her limit. Y/N’s relentless pounding had her vision blurring. Her internal muscles were clenching around him in tight, desperate spasms.

"I'm coming! I'm coming! OH GOD, Y/N!" Sullin screamed, her voice peaking in a high-pitched wail of surrender. Her body shuddered violently, her pussy milking his cock in a series of powerful, rhythmic pulses that nearly brought Y/N to his own climax.

As Sullin collapsed against the desk, panting and spent, Y/N slowly withdrew from her, leaving her gaping and dripping. He turned his attention to Hyerin, who was practically vibrating on the bed, her pussy glistening and her eyes wild.

Y/N walked over, intending to drop to his knees and eat her out, but Hyerin was too fast. As he leaned in, she reached up, grabbed his shoulders with surprising strength, and threw him backward onto the bed.

"My turn," she hissed.

Before he could react, Hyerin mounted him. She turned around, positioning herself in a reverse cowgirl, her back to his face. She gripped his thighs for balance and slowly, deliberately, lowered herself onto his still-rock-hard cock.

"Ahhh!" Hyerin gasped, her eyes rolling back as she felt him slide inside her. "Oh god… you're so thick… you're even bigger than Sullin said."

Hyerin began to fuck herself, her hips moving in a circular, grinding motion that maximized the friction against her clitoris. She leaned forward, her breasts swaying, her ass bouncing rhythmically against Y/N’s lap. She was in total control, her moans filling the room as she chased her own peak.

Y/N reached up, his hands finding her waist, then sliding up to grab her hands, locking them behind her head to pull her chest back, giving him a better view of her arching spine.

Sullin, finally recovering from her own orgasm, crawled over to the bed. She saw Hyerin’s pussy being hammered by Y/N’s cock from below and felt a fresh wave of desire. She slid under the bed, positioning herself between Hyerin’s legs.

Without warning, Sullin buried her face in Hyerin’s soaking wet folds, her tongue lashing out to find the clitoris.

"OH! OH MY GOD!" Hyerin screamed, her entire body jolting. The double stimulation—Y/N’s cock filling her from behind and Sullin’s tongue flickering over her clit from below—was too much.

Hyerin began to moan like crazy, her voice joining the chorus of the house. She accelerated her pace, her hips slamming down onto Y/N with desperate force, her screams echoing the wild, uncensored lust that had completely overtaken the TripleS dormitory.

The air in the TripleS dormitory had reached a breaking point, a thick, suffocating haze of pheromones, sweat, and the raw, metallic scent of arousal. The walls, once boundaries of privacy, had become mere conductors for the symphony of carnal noise. Hyerin’s screams were the current peak, her body slamming down on Y/N with a rhythmic, desperate violence that shook the very floorboards. But for Kaede, the sound wasn't enough. The aftermath of her own climax had left her in a state of hyper-awareness, her skin tingling, her nerves on fire, and a voyeuristic hunger clawing at her insides.

She couldn't stay still. The dormitory had transformed into a labyrinth of pleasure, and Kaede felt an irresistible urge to explore every corner of it. She stepped out into the hallway, her feet bare on the cool floor, her own body still glistening with the remnants of her encounter. She moved like a predator, her breath shallow, her eyes wide and dilated as she followed the sounds of wet friction and guttural moans.

The first sound that drew her was a rhythmic, heavy slap-slap-slap coming from Jiwoo and Yubin’s room. Kaede paused at the door, her heart hammering against her ribs. She didn't knock; she simply pushed the door open a crack, peering inside.

The sight that greeted her was enough to make her knees buckle. Yubin was draped across the bed on her belly, her face pressed into the pillows, her back arched in a desperate curve. Jiwoo was positioned behind her, her expression one of focused, raw intensity. Jiwoo's thick cock was pistoning in and out of Yubin's wet opening. With every powerful thrust, her shaft disappeared completely into Yubin’s soaking pussy, the impact of their hips creating a loud, wet sound that echoed through the room.

Jiwoo wasn't just fucking her; she was dominating her. Jiwoo’s hands were buried deep in Yubin’s flesh, her fingers palming Yubin’s large, heavy tits, squeezing them with a bruising grip that left red marks on the pale skin. She was kneading them like dough, pulling Yubin back against the cock with every thrust, ensuring that the penetration was as deep and punishing as possible.

Yubin was losing her mind. Her moans were high-pitched, erratic, her voice breaking as she sobbed into the pillow. "Oh god, Jiwoo! Fuck… fuck me harder! Fill me up!"

As Kaede watched, frozen in a mixture of shock and arousal, Yubin shifted. She turned her head, her hair messy and damp with sweat, and her eyes locked onto Kaede standing in the doorway. For a heartbeat, time stopped. Instead of embarrassment, a flash of pure, exhibitionist heat crossed Yubin’s face. She didn't tell Kaede to leave; instead, Yubin let out a loud, provocative moan and gave Kaede a slow, deliberate wink.

Then, Yubin deliberately pushed her ass back, grinding her soaking wet pussy harder against Jiwoo’s cock, practically begging for the friction. The knowledge that Kaede—their unnie—was watching her be absolutely railed by Jiwoo sent Yubin over the edge. Her moans grew louder, more guttural, her voice echoing through the room as she screamed, "Look at me, Kaede! Look at how Jiwoo is fucking me!"

Jiwoo noticed the audience too, and it only fueled her fire. She gripped Yubin’s hips tighter, her fingers digging into the skin, and began to hammer into her with a renewed, violent passion. The bed frame groaned under the pressure, the sound of her cock slamming into Yubin’s depths becoming a frantic, wet percussion. Kaede stood there, her hand sliding down to her own clit, rubbing herself through her thin clothes as she watched the two lovers lose themselves in a display of uncensored lust.

But the hunger in Kaede wasn't sated; it was amplified. She backed away from the room, her mind racing, and followed the next set of screams. This time, the noise was coming from Sullin and Hyerin’s room—a chaotic blend of three different voices, a frantic energy that suggested a much larger encounter.

When Kaede pushed the door open, the scene was a blur of tangled limbs and flushed skin. Y/N was in the center of it, his cock buried deep inside Hyerin, who was riding him with a manic intensity. Sullin was draped across the bed, her legs spread wide, her face a mask of pure ecstasy as she watched them, her own hand working her clit in a blur of motion.

The moment Kaede entered, the energy in the room shifted. Sullin’s eyes snapped to her, her pupils blown wide. Kaede didn't say a word. She walked toward the bed with a predatory grace, her eyes locked on Sullin. Without hesitation, Kaede reached down and grabbed a handful of Sullin’s hair, pulling her head back with a sharp tug that forced a gasp of surprise and pleasure from the younger girl.

Kaede shoved Sullin down onto the mattress, pinning her there. "You've been wanting this, haven't you?" Kaede whispered, her voice a low, dangerous purr.

Sullin whimpered, her hips jerking upward. "Yes… please, Kaede-unnie… I need you."

Kaede didn't waste time. She dove down, her mouth finding Sullin’s breast. She latched onto the nipple, sucking it hard, her tongue swirling around the peak with a hungry intensity. Sullin screamed, her back arching off the bed, her fingers digging into Kaede’s shoulders. Kaede moved her mouth to Sullin’s neck, leaving a trail of biting kisses and wet licks, marking her territory while her hand slid down to Sullin’s pussy.

Sullin was already drenched, her juices soaking through her underwear. Kaede ripped the fabric aside, sliding two fingers deep into her tight, pulsing heat. Sullin’s voice joined the chorus of the house, her screams echoing as Kaede worked her fingers in a fast, rhythmic motion, hitting the G-spot with precision.

Meanwhile, the dynamic on the bed shifted. Hyerin, seeing the intensity of Kaede and Sullin’s interaction, felt a surge of competitive lust. She didn't want to just be the one riding; she wanted to be the bridge. Hyerin shifted her position, turning around and sliding back down onto Y/N’s cock in a traditional cowgirl position, facing Sullin and Kaede.

Now, Hyerin was facing them, her breasts swinging with every heavy bounce. She slammed her hips down onto Y/N, her pussy clamping tight around his shaft, while her arms reached out to pull Sullin closer.

"Come here, Sullin," Hyerin gasped, her voice thick with lust.

As Y/N continued to hammer into Hyerin from below, Hyerin leaned forward, her lips meeting Sullin’s in a deep, sloppy kiss. Sullin was caught in a sandwich of pleasure—Kaede’s fingers ravishing her pussy from below and Hyerin’s mouth claiming her lips from above.

The scene was absolute carnage. Y/N was grunting, his hands gripping Hyerin’s waist, driving himself upward into her with every ounce of strength he had. Hyerin was moaning into Sullin’s mouth, her body shaking as she felt Y/N’s cock hitting her cervix. Sullin was sobbing, her head tossing from side to side, her body vibrating under Kaede’s relentless stimulation.

"Fuck… I can't… I'm going to come!" Sullin shrieked, her voice breaking.

Kaede increased the pace, her fingers curling inside Sullin, stretching her open, while her mouth returned to Sullin’s tits, biting and sucking with a feral hunger. Hyerin accelerated her bouncing, her screams echoing through the room, her pussy gripping Y/N so hard that he groaned in agony and pleasure.

"I'm coming! I'm coming!" Hyerin screamed, her body stiffening as a massive orgasm ripped through her. At the same moment, Sullin’s body convulsed, her pussy clamping down on Kaede’s fingers in violent spasms as she peaked, her scream merging with Hyerin’s.

Y/N let out a guttural roar, his body locking up as he shot a massive load of cum deep inside Hyerin, filling her to the brim. Hyerin collapsed forward onto Sullin, both girls shaking and sobbing, their skin slick with a mixture of sweat, saliva, and lubrication.

Kaede pulled her fingers out of Sullin, the sound of the wet pop echoing in the sudden silence. She looked at the two girls, then at Y/N, her eyes still burning with an unquenchable fire. The dormitory was no longer a home; it was a temple of flesh, a place where every inhibition had been burned away.

As they lay there, panting and exhausted, the sounds from the other rooms continued—the distant thud of Jiwoo still fucking Yubin, the muffled moans of other members who had joined the fray. The air was saturated, a heavy, musk-filled atmosphere that clung to their skin. They were all connected now, bound by this shared, primal experience.

Kaede leaned over Sullin and Hyerin, her voice a breathless whisper. "We're not done yet."

"Yeonji," I say, my voice low, controlled. "Come here."

She hesitates, her eyes darting to the side, and that tiny rebellion makes my blood heat. The audacity. The sheer fucking audacity.

I cross the patio in three long strides, grab her by the wrist, and yank her toward me. She stumbles, letting out a soft gasp, and I drag her through the back door, through the living room, straight to the bedroom. She knows what's coming. I can feel her trembling under my grip.

"Please," she whispers. "I didn't mean to—"

"Shut up."

I toss her onto the bed. She lands with a bounce, her shorts riding up, exposing the smooth skin of her thighs. I'm on her before she can scramble away, my knee pressing into the mattress between her legs, my hand wrapping around her throat. Not hard enough to cut off air. Just enough to remind her who owns her.

"Did you think you could ignore me?" I growl, my thumb pressing into the soft hollow of her collarbone. "Did you think I wouldn't find out?"

Tears well in her eyes. Good. I love that look—the fear, the submission, the knowledge that she's completely at my mercy.

I rip the camisole down, the fabric tearing, her small tits spilling out. I don't bother with the bow. I just grab her left tit, squeezing hard, kneading the soft flesh until she whimpers. My other hand shoves up her shorts, past the waistband of her panties, finding her pussy already wet. Fucking slut. She's always wet for me, even when she's scared.

"Look at you," I mutter, sliding two fingers inside her cunt without warning. She arches her back, a strangled cry escaping her lips. "Soaking my fingers. You love this, don't you? You love being used."

I fuck her with my fingers, hard and fast, the wet sounds filling the room. Her legs start to shake, her thighs quivering as I curl my fingers, pressing against that spot that makes her see stars. She's close—I can feel her clenching around me—but I pull out before she can come. Not yet. I'm not done with her.

I flip her over, shoving her face into the mattress. Her shorts and panties come off in one rough yank, leaving her bare, her ass in the air. I spread her cheeks with both hands, exposing her tight little hole, and I spit on it. She shudders, and I press my thumb against her asshole, pushing in slow, watching her body tense.

"Please," she gasps, her voice muffled by the sheets. "It hurts—"

"I know."

I work my thumb deeper, stretching her, while my other hand reaches around to finger her pussy from behind. Two fingers in her cunt, thumb in her ass, and she's shaking, her legs giving out, her whole body trembling. I press down on her lower back, keeping her pinned, and I fuck her with both hands until she's sobbing, drooling into the mattress.

The first orgasm hits her like a wave. She cries out, her pussy clenching around my fingers, her asshole tightening around my thumb. I don't stop. I keep fucking her through it, overstimulating her, until she's begging me to stop.

"You don't get to tell me to stop," I say, pulling my fingers out and shoving them into her mouth. "Suck."

She does. She licks my fingers clean, her own juices coating her tongue, and I watch her with a cold satisfaction. I pull my hand away, grab her by the hair, and drag her to the edge of the bed. I sit down, pulling her over my lap, her bare ass in the air.

The first spank lands hard, and she yelps. The second leaves a red handprint. The third makes her sob. I spank her until her ass is bright red, hot to the touch, and she's crying into the carpet. I don't stop until I'm satisfied, and then I reach for my belt.

The buckle clinks as I slide it out of the loops. She hears it, and she starts begging, pleading, but I ignore her. I fold the belt in half, the leather heavy in my hand, and I bring it down across her ass.

The crack echoes through the room. A red line appears on her skin. She screams.

I whip her again. And again. And again. Each strike leaves a mark, a welt, a reminder of who she belongs to. By the time I'm done, her ass is a mess of red and purple stripes, and she's weeping, her body limp over my lap.

"Get up," I say.

She can't. Her legs are too weak, her body too broken. So I grab her by the waist, haul her up, and carry her to the pool. She's limp in my arms, her head lolling, her body covered in sweat and marks. I can feel her heart pounding against my chest.

I step into the water, the cold shocking her awake. She squirms, trying to push away, but I hold her tight. I walk deeper, until the water reaches my chest, and then I dunk her.

She thrashes, her arms flailing, bubbles rising. I hold her under for five seconds before pulling her up. She gasps, coughing, choking on water. I wait for her to catch her breath, and then I dunk her again.

This time, I hold her longer. Ten seconds. Fifteen. Her movements grow weaker, her struggles fading. When I pull her up, she's barely conscious, her eyes fluttering, her lips blue.

I drag her to the edge of the pool, my body pressing her against the tile. The water laps at her waist, and I spread her legs, positioning myself between them. I shove my cock into her pussy, and she moans, a weak, pathetic sound that makes me harder.

I fuck her in the water, my hand wrapped around her throat, squeezing just enough to cut off her air. She gasps, her eyes rolling back, her legs wrapping around my waist. The water sloshes around us, and I pound into her, using her, taking what's mine.

"You're nothing," I hiss in her ear. "You're nothing without me. I made you. I own you. And if you ever try to leave me, I'll destroy you. I'll leak every video, every photo, every dirty little secret you've ever told me. You'll be ruined. Your career, your life, everything."

She's crying, her tears mixing with the pool water. Her body is shaking, convulsing, as another orgasm rips through her. She comes on my cock, her pussy clenching, and I keep fucking her, using her pleasure against her.

I carry her back to the bedroom, her body limp and wet, and I lay her on the bed. She's half-conscious, her eyes glazed, her lips parted. I take her again, this time from behind, my hand fisted in her hair, yanking her head back as I fuck her ass. She's too weak to resist, too broken to do anything but take it.

I come inside her, filling her, marking her. And when I'm done, I roll off, leaving her there, a crumpled mess on the sheets.

She's not moving. Her breathing is shallow, her body covered in bruises and welts. I reach for the small bottle of pills in my pocket, the ones I slipped into her drink earlier. They're already in her system, making her pliant, compliant, easy to use.

I lean over her, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "I love you," I whisper. "You know that, right? I do this because I love you. Because you're mine."

'Hey, bro. You're going to watch Infinity Castle tomorrow, right?'

'Yeah. I'm going. Are you going too?'

'I hope I can join you but my parents had different plans tomorrow. We're going to Japan for a family vacation.'

'Woah. Nice.'

'Anyway, Since you're going to CGV tomorrow. I have a secret info for you. Only if you keep it to yourself.'

'Sure. What is it?'

'You know there's a popcorn section there, right? There's three or four popcorn girls there. Approach one of them and say the secret code 'Special Flavor'. They knew the meaning.'

'Special Flavor? What do you mean?'

'I tried it because my cousin, Soomin told me about it. You know what? I got a score by a pink haired girl named Chaewon. She's the best. Anyway, gonna go now. Enjoy yourself tomorrow bro 😁'

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Arrived at the movie theater, His plan is to watch the movie but the conversation last night made him curious about that secret code.

"Nah.. Maybe he's just trolling me. There's no way that secret code is real deal."

But his words doesn't match his actions as he spotted the popcorn girls, their professional smile towards to the line of customers wanting a bucket of popcorn. Siwon's gaze locked on one of them named Hyerin on it's nametag.

He took a deep breath, mustering the courage to approach her. As he reached the counter, she gave him a genuine smile despite her tired eyes for who know how long she's working, her sweet scent mingling with the buttery aroma of fresh popcorns.

"What can I get for you, sir? Classic? Caramel or Butter flavored?"

He glance around he had time to change his mind and just buy a popcorn but his curiousity gets him. "I... Uhh... S-Special.. Flavor?" His lips trembled as he spoke. He's pretty sure he just got trolled by his friend. He's sure that Hyerin probably thought he's a weirdo.

Hyerin's eyes widen. She looked at her co-workers who's still servicing their customers as she nods discreetly. "Follow me."

Siwon followed behind her and both of them went inside of a room that has a 'Staff Only' sign plastered on the door. Siwon looked at his smartwatch and it shows his heartbeat is now above 100.

"Sit on the chair, sir.. wait.. What's your name?"

"Siwon. Jung Siwon." He sat on the chair nearby and looked around the room. It was a normal locker room for staffs. It smelled girl's perfume and it make sense because popcorn section has all girls staffs.

"How did you know about the secret code?" Hyerin went infront of the mirror at the corner of the room. She takes off the hat then tying her hair into ponytail.

"My friend told me about it last night. He said that he got a score by a pink haired girl."

"Pink haired girl? You mean Chaewon?"

"Yeah. And that's it."

"That's it?" Hyerin turned to face him. "Do you have any idea what's the meaning of that secret code?"

"I... uh... Honestly, I don't. I thought my friend is just trolling me." Siwon's fingers fidgetting at the hem of his jacket. His response made Hyerin chuckle.

"Oh... So you don't have any idea what that means huh? Well... Since we don't have much time left, I'll shorten it."

"That secret code means us, popcorn girls will do whatever our customer wants. It was Soomin's idea during our sleepover month ago. In short, we provide sex. We obey until the time is out." Hyerin said candidly.

Siwon's eyes widen in shock as he processed her words. The meaning of that secret code. His friend never told him about it, maybe he is but he was dumbfounded after hearing it from Hyerin. "S-Sex? R-Right here? Isn't that Illegal?"

Hyerin sighed as she shook her head. "It's illegal for doing sex in a public place like this theater but we're in a room where only us, popcorn girls can enter. If you're willing to have sex with me here, then you don't need to worry about anything else, Siwon."

"Anyway, Since our time is limited and I need to go back to work. Show me your medical QR to verify that you don't have STD or something."

Siwon pulls out his phone and showed his QR, Hyerin scanned it and looked at his medical history. "Hmmm... You're green flag. We're good to start then."

Hyerin kneelt between his legs, she reached out to unzip Siwon's pants, letting his hard erect cock free. "First time?" Siwon nods.

"I'll make sure this will be unforgettable." Hyerin licked her lips and puts her tongue out to lick from it's base slowly to the tip of Siwon's cock.

Hyerin's warm, wet mouth enveloped Siwon's throbbing cock, her tongue swirling around the sensitive head as she takes him deeper. Her cheeks hollowed with each bob of her head, Hyerin's expert mouth skills had Siwon's fingers digging into the armrests of the chair.

"Mmmph… so big…" Hyerin moaned around his length, sending vibrations through Siwon's shaft. She pulled back, giving his tip a kiss before diving back down, this time taking him all the way to the hilt. Her nose brushed against the coarse hairs at the base of his cock as she held herself there, savoring the taste of his cock.

The way how Hyerin looked as she sucked his cock, her plump lips stretched, her tongue worked underside of his cock and her lewd mouth sounds made Siwon felt heavenly. He only seen it on adult websites, now he's experiencing it.

Hyerin pulled back, a string of saliva connects between his slick cock and her lips. "You can fuck my mouth if you want to. Afterall, we popcorn girls do our best to satisfy our customers."

Siwon's hands are trembling as he reached out to hold Hyerin's head, Hyerin opens her mouth widely as possible.

With a steady grip on Hyerin's head, Siwon guided himself back into her welcoming mouth. Hyerin gazed up at him with lust-filled eyes, her hands on his hips for support. She's eager to please her customer.

As Siwon began to thrust, Hyerin met him halfway, her nose pressing against his pubic bone with each stroke. Hyerin's muffled moans and the occasional gagging filled the room.

Siwon lost himself in the rhythm, fucking Hyerin's willing mouth with increasing intensity. He could feel his climax approaching, his balls tightening in anticipation. "Fuck... Your mouth... I'm gonna... cum!"

Hyerin could only hold onto Siwon to balance herself as she willingly make herself as his fucktoy.

Hyerin felt Siwon's cock throbbing and the quick thrusts, She knew he was about to reach his peak. Hyerin closed her eyes and let Siwon do it inside her mouth.

"Fuck! Hyerin!!" Siwon buried himself deep in Hyerin's mouth as his orgasm hit. His cock pulsed and twitched, spilling hot ropes of cum down to her throat.

Hyerin swallowed greedily, milking every last drop from Siwon's spent cock. She kept her lips sealed around him, gently sucking to swallow his remaining cum. Not wanting to waste a single drop.

When it finally done, she released him with a pop, licking her lips clean of the sticky excess cum. "Mmm, It's good for a first timer." Hyerin wiped a stray strand of saliva from her chin with the back of her hand.

Siwon plopped down on the chair, panting heavily. He couldn't believe what just happened.

Hyerin smiled as she stood up and puts a lip balm on her lips. Before she leaves the room, she looked at Siwon. "Siwon-ah. Don't forget to give us a five star rating and a good review, Okay? It helps my job."

Hyerin winked at him then exited the room. Siwon sat there, dazed and spent. His semi-hard cock still dangling free. The lingering feeling of Hyerin's mouth and the memories of her skilled blowjob played on his mind.

With a sigh, he tucked himself back into his pants, zipping up and adjusting himself. He glanced at his watch, realizing he'd missed the start of the film. Not that he cared much anymore.

Siwon pulled out his phone and opened the review app, leaving a glowing five-star rating and he typed a review:

'The popcorn girls are pretty and nice. Now I understand why are they famous these days. Hyerin is good at her JOB and very, very welcoming. Will come back next time.'

Satisfied, he pocketed his phone and left the staff room. When he walked across the popcorn section, he got an eye-to-eye contact with Hyerin. She gave him a wink and he returned it with a smile.

The movie is already playing but his mind is occupied by Hyerin and the memories of her expert oral skills earlier. Siwon is glad to know about the secret code and expecting to have her again next time.

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Week later, Siwon returned to the movie theater. Not because of movies but for Hyerin. He saw her interacting to a kid who wanted a butter popcorn.

When their eyes met, Hyerin gave him a knowing smile. "Can I have... Special Flavor?"

"Ofcourse you came back for a special flavor." Hyerin giggled. She didn't have to tell him to follow her to the staff room.

When they entered, Siwon holds Hyerin's shoulders and pinned her on the door. Their lips clashed in a deep and hungry kiss. Hyerin's arms wrapped around his neck, as his arms wrapped around her waist.

Their intense kiss continued as Hyerin guides themselves into the corner of the room. Then Hyerin pushed him to sit on the chair, the same chair that he sat last time.

"So eager tonight huh? Bet that I'm the only one who's on your mind these days, right?" Hyerin chuckled. She started unbuttoning her uniform top then let it fall on the floor. Exposing her E-cup breasts covered by a black lacy bra.

With a snap of finger, the bra fell atop of her discarded uniform top. Letting her breasts free and swaying at every move she makes. Siwon hypnotized at her bare breasts, light brownish stiff nipples that urging him to suck it.

Hyerin chuckled once again at the sight of Siwon drooling at her topless body. "You're drooling already? That's cute. But I'm not done yet."

Hyerin unzips her skirt and it pooled at her ankles. Her panties is also lacy black. As she hooked her thumbs at the waistband, she turned around and pulled the underwear down. Giving him a sight of her ass and glistering folds.

"It's not shaved because I didn't expect you to come today. Is that okay for you?" Hyerin turned to face him. Her pussy has not that much pubic hairs.

"It's okay, Hyerin. I don't mind it." Siwon assured her which Hyerin let a sigh of relief. "Good thing. I know most men are picky as fuck and doesn't want a hairy pussy."

"Now that I'm naked. Should you also naked as well?"

That made Siwon quickly discarded his clothes until he's naked too. Hyerin walked towards to him and straddle his lap. The connection of his cock pressed against her wet clit made him groan. Her left hand placed at his shoulder while her other hand held his cock, aligning it to her wet entrance.

"W-Wait! I... I forgot to buy a condom."

Hyerin laughed, she shaked her head. "Oh, you silly. You came all the way here without thinking about getting a condom first? That's funny."

Hyerin leans to his ear. "Don't worry, I always take the pills. You can fill me up."

Hyerin leans forward to give his lips a quick kiss. "Now, You're going to experience how I ride a cock."

Siwon gasped as Hyerin impaled herself on his cock, her wet heat swallowed him in a tight grip. "Fuuuckkk! That feels so good!" She threw her head back as she adjusted to his size.

Slowly, she began to rock her hips, setting a rhythm that had Siwon threw his head back as well. Each thrust dragged him deeper inside her.

"Hnnngh… fuck! You're so deep, Siwon-ah." Hyerin panted, her nails digging into Siwon's shoulders for balance. "I love feeling your cock stretch me open like this…"

She picked up the pace, riding him with wild abandon, her breasts bouncing with each impact. Siwon couldn't resist the urge as he groped her breasts and leaning in to suck her enticing nipples simutaneously.

Hyerin arched her back, pressing her breasts further to his mouth as he lavished his attention to her breasts equally. Siwon's hands finds her ass and spanked both ass cheeks.

"Ah! S-Shit! Spank me more, Siwon-ah!"

Siwon did what she pleaded. He kept spanking her until her ass are sore because of his rough spanking. His mouth left her breasts to claim her lips in a messy kiss. Their tongues danced, letting their saliva dripped down on their chinsm Not caring how hungry they are for each other nor they are inside an public establishment.

"Hyerin-ah... I want your tongue." Hyerin obliged. As soon as she put her tongue out, Siwon hungrily sucking her tongue like a maniac. Hyerin looked surprised at Siwon's actions but because of the intense lust they had, she enjoyed how he treating her.

Hyerin kept riding his cock, A familiar feeling on her lower belly. "Hey... I'm going... to cum soon."

Siwon didn't respond. After sucking her tongue, he turned his attention on her neck, which Hyerin tilted her head to give him more access to her neck.

Siwon licked and sucked at every inches of her neck. Like he was claiming her as his territory. "I'm.. almost th- Aghh!!" Hyerin's voice cracked in pain as she felt his teeth on the crook of her neck. Siwon just gave her a hickey.

Hyerin's body tensed, her inner walls fluttering around his cock as she teetered on the brink of orgasm. "Ah! Yes! Yes! Just like that!"

As Hyerin reached her peak, her pussy clenched rhythmically around Siwon's pulsating cock. A gush of fluid squirted out, coating his cock in her arousal.

Siwon felt his own orgasm building up. He doesn't want to end this moment with her. Siwon wanted to prolong it even just a little bit.

With a surge of strength, She lifted off Hyerin. That made Hyerin immediately clings around his neck as he carried her. He pushed her into the closed locker, the cold metal on her exposed flesh gave her shivers.

Siwon started thrusting in and out of her wet pussy. His core and his whole body is working hard for this moment. This is something he watched on AV sites countless times. Now, He's experiencing the same thing. It was hard and exhausting but seeing how Hyerin is in a bliss at every thrusts, his goal is to finish it.

"I'm gonna cum inside you, Hyerin-ah!" He buried himself deeper into her, his cock throbbing as he spilled his seed, painting her insides white. Wave after wave, leaving him breathless and spent.

They collapsed together on the floor, both of them panting heavily after they came from their high. Their heartbeats louder than the faint noise of the crowd outside of the room.

"I'll coming back here again." Siwon murmured, nuzzling Hyerin's neck affectionately. "And I wanted to take you out on a date, Hyerin."

"Really?" Hyerin cupped his face as they faced each other. Her eyes looking into his, seeking if he was telling the truth. "Are you... seriously taking me out, for real?"

Siwon nods. "Yes. I'm that serious, Hyerin." Hyerin hugged him. "I never had someone taking me out on a date, Siwon. I'm glad I met you."

"Me too, Hyerin. Me too." Siwon pressed a gentle kiss on her forehead.

"It'a a simple dare. Bullshit. Of all the dares, you're trying to humilate me. Does she ever think how risky is this? Unbelieveable!"

Jiyeon drove all the way to Gyeongju, Farthest east from Seoul. It took her 3 hours. She picked the place because she knew people in the countryside doesn't know who she is or the group she's part of.

As minutes passed, her anxiety reaches a fever pitch. She saw few people walking across her at her car's sideview mirror. Some young men and women going somewhere, Kids running and teasing and Elderly people walking slowly.

Jiyeon shaked her head. She twist the car key and started the engine. "Fuck this! I don't fucking care if Seoyeon calls me a coward. I can't risky my career for that childish dare. I'm out of thi-"

"Ehem!"

A throaty cough made her whole body stiffen. Jiyeon slowly looked up at the stranger.

An elderly man who has patches of scars on his face, white hair, he has a cigarrete on his lips. His clothes are rusty old. Jiyeon smelled a mixed of cigarette and body odor. "Y-Yes, Mister?" She flashed him a nervous smile as his eyes wander around her naked body.

She swallows hard, trying to maintain her composure despite the growing sense of unease. Jiyeon felt touched despite the old man didn't even touched her yet.

The man takes a long drag from his cigarette, exhaling a smoke into the air between them. Jiyeon's nostrils flare, catching the scent mingled with the musk of his worn clothing.

"Young women these days... are so shameless and desperate. Back in my days, I need to pay a whore to get naked. Now, It's all for free." Jiyeon's fingers tighten around the steering wheel, she still smiled despite being called a whore.

"T-That's not why I am here, Mister. I... I lost a game and... this is my dare." Her voice suddenly low at the last few words. She's truly ashamed of her situation right now.

The old man chuckles again, a low sound that sends a shiver down Jiyeon's spine. He takes another slow puff of his cigarette, eyeing her up and down with a hungry gleam. "Lost a game, huh? Well, I suppose you gotta follow through."

He drops the butt of his cigarette onto the dirt road, grinding it out with the toe of his scuffed sandals. Then with a deliberate slowness, he cupped her left breast, his gaze never leaving her flushed face. "Tell me, little missy... what exactly do you think I want to do to you?"

Jiyeon gasped at his rough hand groping her breast. She feels stucked for some reason. She could have just step the pedal to drive away as far as possible from him but she can't. Jiyeon eyed on her smart watch and it shows an increasing consistent heartbeat of 100.

"I know... that you wanted to get into my car and... u-use my body... whatever you like." Jiyeon closed her eyes shut. She's at the verge of crying. Jiyeon never been this exposed and sexualized like she is right now.

The old man grins, clearly pleased by Jiyeon's submission. His rough fingers dig into her soft flesh, kneading and squeezing until she winces. "That's right, sweet thing." he growls, his hot breath washing over her ear as he leans in close. "You don't know how much I wanted to fuck a young lady like you."

He released her breast after giving a last rough squeeze then walked around to sit beside her. His body odor is even more stronger that the car freshener is basically useless at this point.

"Start the car. I know a place."

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Jiyeon starts the car's engine and drove away. She followed the old man's directions to a place that only the old man knows. Jiyeon gasped loudly as she felt his hand on her clit.

Jiyeon's hands tremble on the steering wheel as the old man's rough finger slid into her slick folds, rubbing against her sensitive clit. She bites her lip to stifle a moan, trying desperately to keep her eyes on the road ahead. But it's a losing battle. The pleasure is too intense, making her squirm in her seat.

"You're so wet already, little slut." the man rasps, his finger pumping in and out of her. "Bet you've been thinking about this all day, haven't you?"

Jiyeon's face flushes with humiliation and arousal, tears pricking at the corners of her eyes. She can barely breathe, let alone concentrate on driving. The car veers slightly off course as her body responds to his touch, her hips bucking involuntarily to meet each thrust.

"Hey, Hey, Hey! Focus on driving, little slut." He warned. He didn't stop fingering her, the old man enjoys torturing her like this. He chuckled about how lucky he is to fuck a young and fresh woman.

As soon as the car approached an old house that was far from the other houses. "Park the car right there and follow me." He pulled his finger out from her before she even lose herself to the pleasure.

Jiyeon quietly whined at the sudden emptyness. She breathe heavily as she tried to compose herself. Jiyeon unbuckled her seatbelt and gets off from the car.

Jiyeon's heart races as she followed the old man into the old house. The smell of decay and cigarettes fills the air, making her wrinkle her nose in distaste. Trash everywhere, crunching beneath her feet as she steps inside.

The old man leads her upstairs, his footsteps creaking on the worn wooden stairs. Jiyeon's pulse quickens with each step. When they reach the top, he pushes a door to reveal a small, dimly lit bedroom. The bed looks ancient, sheets are stained and bunch of holes.

Without a word, the old man begins to undress, revealing awrinkled body covered in age spots and scars, Large belly and more white hairs.

"What are you waiting for? Lay on the bed."

Jiyeon let out a resign sigh as she walked toward to the bed and lay down. As soon as she lay down on the worn mattress, Jiyeon caught the musky scent of odor that she wanted to vomit so bad.

The old man lingered a gaze at her then he crawled atop of Jiyeon. His weight pressed against her. Hands are now roughly explored her naked body.

Jiyeon's stomach churns as the old man's thick, beer-soaked tongue invades her mouth, his rough hands roaming her body with a possessive hunger. She tries to twist away, but his weight keeps her pinned beneath him. Totally helpless under his dominance.

His filthy taste of his saliva, the stubbled bearded chin scraping her skin, the overpowering odor of his unwashed body. For Jiyeon, It was too much for her.

"Hhmm~~ You're sweeter than I thought, slut. I will taste every inch of you."

The old man leaned to lick and suck her left ear, Jiyeon tilted her head to the side as her tears flowing down on her cheeks. She started crying softly. Her first time with her ex is just gentle and caring, unlike what she experiencing right now.

The old man saw her crying, He chuckled instead of feeling pity. "I've never seen a whore who cries like that. Well.. Keep crying. I'll wipe your tears away."

The old man slowly licked her cheeks, tasting her salty tears that kept flowing. Jiyeon felt disgusted on herself. She was adored by many but in this place, she's nothing but his helpless, crying whore.

After that, the old man continued his exploration from her neck down to the swell and curve of her breasts. He take his time licking every inches of her. Tasting the salty flesh like she is his last meal.

Jiyeon's breath hitches as the old man's mouth closes around her nipple, his teeth tugging hard the sensitive bud before he sucks hard, sending jolts of pain and pleasure straight to her core. "M-Mister... Please be.. g-gentle..."

His hands roam lower, grasping at her waist and pulling her body flush against his, his rigid member pressing insistently against her thigh.

Finally, the old man finished lavishing his attention to Jiyeon's sore and swollen breasts and went down to her wet clit.

He leaned forward to press his nose against her clit. Inhailing her arousal deeply like it was the best fragrance he ever smelled in his whole life. "Holy shit! This pussy is like a drug. I can't wait to put my cock inside."

Jiyeon's legs buckle as the old man's hot, wet tongue laps at her clit, his nose buried deep in her slick folds. The sensation is overwhelming, his rough technique pushing her closer to the edge with each swipe of his tongue.

"Ah~ Ahh~ M-Mister~ Fuck..."

She bucks her hips, desperate for more friction, her nails digging into the worn sheets. The old man's guttural moans vibrate against her sensitive flesh, adding to the lewd noises filling the room.

The old man pushed two fingers inside and he immediately found the spot that made Jiyeon's back arches off the mattress, toes curling as she throws her head back, eyes rolling wildly in their sockets.

"Ahh! Ahh! Mister! I'm... I'm-" words trailed off as Jiyeon keeps panting so hard. Her inner walls clenching rhythmically around his invading fingers. The old man adds another finger as he keeps lapping her clit. He won't stop until he finally tasted her juices.

"C-Cumming!!" She screams, the sound torn from her very soul as pleasure consumes her, her body shaking uncontrollably. The old man swallowed Jiyeon's squirts, he groaned in delight.

"Ahh~~ Ughh~~ Mister... Stop.. I can't..."

Jiyeon's thighs quiver and tremble as the old man continues to fingering her sensitive clit, his fingers still buried deep inside her spasming channel. Despite her attempts to push him away, he holds fast, his grip unyielding as he milks every last drop of pleasure from her spent body.

Panting and drenched in sweat, Jiyeon can only lie there helplessly, praying that she can go home safe and sound.

The old man finally let her go but he's not done yet. He slapped her cheek. "Hey, Stay awake. We're just getting started."

The old man straddled at her chest, His weight pressing hard against her lungs. Making it harder to breathe. "Open your pretty mouth and suck my cock like an obedient whore you are."

Jiyeon's lips part obediently as the old man's thick, pulsating cock presses against it, the musky scent of his unwashed cock almost made her vomit. She wraps her lips around the swollen head, her tongue darting out to lap at the salty precum beading at the tip.

The old man groans, his hands fisting in her hair as he guides her mouth down onto his shaft, forcing her to take more of him with each passing second. Jiyeon gags and chokes, her throat burning from the sheer size of his cock.

Jiyeon's eyes water as the old man forces his cock deeper into her inexperienced throat, her jaw straining to accommodate his girth. She pats his thigh frantically, pleading silently for mercy, but he doesn't care at all.

The old man's grip on her hair tightens, using her as nothing more than a human cocksleeve. Jiyeon's vision blurs, her lungs burning for air as he pistons in and out of her mouth with ruthless pace, his heavy balls slapping against her chin with each brutal thrust.

*Slap! Slap! Slap! Slap!*

Tears stream down Jiyeon's face as the old man's hand cracks against her cheek, the sting mixing with the bitter taste of his cock coating her tongue. She cries out, a muffled wail that's swallowed by his thrusting cock, her throat burning from the brutal face-fucking.

"Fuck! You are such... a good cocksucker! You are made for this... Remember that."

The old man uses Jiyeon's body for his own pleasure without a shred of concern for her well-being. His balls slap obscenely against her chin, heavy with seed, as he continues to pound into her mouth over and over again.

"Shit! I will fill your... stomach with my semen, you fucking slut!"

Jiyeon's eyes widen in shock as the old man's cock pulses inside her mouth, spewing ropes of thick, warm semen directly onto her tongue. She recoils instinctively, Jiyeon isn't a fan of swallowing semen. She's trying to spit out the unwanted load, but his iron grip on her hair prevents her to do so.

"If you tried to spit it in my house, I'll make you regret it. Understand?"

Jiyeon nods quickly, gagging as the bitter taste of his cum ruined her tastebuds, tears streaming freely now. The old man releases her hair, satisfied with her obedience, as Jiyeon lies there shuddering, dazed and violated.

"We're still not done yet, until I fuck your pussy."

The old man puts her legs over her head, it went over easily. "You're flexible huh? You are really made for this, slut."

The sight of violated naked Jiyeon, her legs locked above her head, her wet and swollen pussy that made his cock erect and throbbing.

Jiyeon muffled gasp as the old man's cock spears into her already sensitive, abused pussy, stretching her further than she thought possible. Her legs tremble, locked over her head, as he begins to pump in and out of her with a steady rhythm.

"I knew it... Even your pussy is so fucking good! I feel like I won something better than a lottery!"

Jiyeon's mind spins, overwhelmed by the rough pace, her body moving in sync with his as he fucks her without any care of the world outside of the house. Her moans are muffled because she still holding the mouthful of his semen on her mouth. Not daring herself to spit it out, because of his threats.

"Aaghhh~~ Ughhh~~ So good!"

The old man's thrusts become erratic, his pace quickening as he nears his climax. Jiyeon clenches her teeth, trying to hold back another scream as he pounds into her relentlessly, her body jolting with each impact.

The old man's grunts grow louder, his grip on her hips tightening as he drives himself to the brink. Jiyeon realizes that he's going to fill her unprotected womb, but she's powerless to stop him.

"Fuck! Almost.... there!!"

Moments later, The old man pulled it out and shoots his remaining semen into her face. Jiyeon shrieks in pain when a semen splashes directly into her eye. Tears pour down her cheeks, mingling with the sticky fluid covering her face as the old man continues his perverse artistry.

When he finally steps back, Jiyeon lies there, a broken, defiled mess. The face that many people talked about how naturally pretty she is, now smeared with his cum. Her closed eye throbbing from the pain. Cheeks sore from the brutal slaps and hair messy as hell.

The old man lay down beside her. He let a satisfying sigh out. "That was the best fuck I ever had for ages! I knew that young sluts like you are totally worth it. Doing it for free, shows how desperate you are."

The old man's words hang heavy in the air, a cruel mockery of the violation Jiyeon has endured. She remains silent, staring blankly at the ceiling. "I'm Ji Suhyeon. A Kpop idol. Not your usual street whore!"

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The old man fell asleep and snoring soundly beside her. Jiyeon's legs tremble as she slowly rises from the bed, her muscles protesting the effort. Each step towards to exit feels like eternity, her movements clumsy and unsteady due to the pain and exhaustion. Yet, driven by an urge to escape, she pushes forward, determined to put distance between herself and the old man.

As she reaches the front door, Jiyeon pauses, glancing back at the empty stairs. She knows that if the ols man woke up and catches her leaving, God only knows what would happened to her.

When she finally enters her car, she quickly wore her jacket. Covering her naked and violated body then starts the engine and drove away quickly as possible.

The stinging pain of her eye lead her to the nearest store. Her mouth still have the old man's bitter semen. She enters the store and quickly walked to the medical section where she brought a pack of eyepatch. Jiyeon also brought a box of tissues and a cold bottle of water.

Jiyeon placed the items infront of the female cashier named Kim Ji-Woo.

"Hello, Miss! Oh! What happened to your eye? You should go to the hospital first!"

But Jiyeon didn't respond. She was too tired and hurt. Ji-woo sighed as she proceeds to scan the items. Jiyeon paid using her card and walked away.

"Go to the hospital, okay? Be careful!" Ji-woo watched Jiyeon exits the store. She watched her entering her car and drives off.

"Wait... Why is she looked so familiar? I swear I seen her before..." Ji-woo closed her eyes in concentration as she's trying to remember who is that customer.

"tripleS!"

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Jiyeon stopped the car near the large tree beside the road. Her hands shake slightly as she frames the shot, the eyepatch casting a shadow over her bruised eye. She parts her lips, revealing the string of the old man's semen. Slowly, deliberately, she spits it out, capturing a humiliating selfie.

Satisfied with the proof, Jiyeon send the photo on their groupchat and tosses her phone aside. She quickly wiped the semen off from her mouth.

Jiyeon gets off from the car with a cold bottle of water. She popped it open and flush her eye with a water. Jiyeon rinsed the remaining water around her mouth then spits it out.

"Disgusting... I can't believe that I got fucked by a dirty piece of shit."

Jiyeon went back to her car and starts the engine once again. "I swear... I'll fucking kill you, Yoon Seoyeon. I..." She takes a deep breath, trying to calm herself down as she continued driving.

"Oh... my... gosh!"

"Damn! You seriously did it! ㅋㅋㅋ!"

"What's with that eyepatch? ㅋㅋㅋ! Anyway, Come home before our manager realized you're missing for five hours."

"Tell us what happened, Okay?"

As soon as he stopped in front of her. She looked at him and shows a plain smile. "Look who's walking all the way here, like I controlled every fiber of your being. Mr. Smith."

The woman leaned her glass to click with his. "Ji Suh-Yeon. You can call me Jiyeon. My father is one of the shareholders of the bank and supporter of your father's candidacy."

Matthew's eyes widened slightly at Jiyeon's words. He swore that he heard her name few times before but he never ever expected that she's this captivating.

"Jiyeon." he replied smoothly, his voice deep and confident. "A pleasure to meet you. And please, call me Matthew." He clicked his glass to hers.

As they sipped their champagne, Matthew couldn't help but notice the way Jiyeon's full lips curled into a subtle smirk, as if she knew exactly the effect she was having on him. Her dark eyes seemed to bore into his very soul, sending shivers down his spine.

"So, tell me. Jiyeon." Matthew ventured, leaning in closer. "what brings a stunning beauty like yourself to our humble bank's anniversary celebration? I swear this is the first time I saw you."

Jiyeon saw how Matthew looked at her. She didn't expect that of all the women in this event, she's the one who caught his attention.

"Well..." She looked around and sees her father interacting to other guests. "I don't have any interest of attending to this kind of events. But my father keeps telling me to go with him. I don't have any plans for tonight, so I went."

Jiyeon turned to face him. "Let's talk about something else, Matthew. I wonder what kind of hobbies does a soon-to-be-chairman like you?"

Matthew chuckled softly, amused by Jiyeon's candidness. He liked her straightforwardness, it was refreshing.

"Hobbies? Well, I do enjoy traveling when I can, especially to popular places like Paris. I play Golf sometimes." Matthew explained, his gaze drifting to Jiyeon's exposed collarbone as she shifted slightly.

"Travel and golf huh? Such a rich person's common hobbies." Jiyeon chuckled lightly. That chuckle made Matthew affection towards to Jiyeon grow slowly.

"But I must admit, lately, those hobbies doesn't make me satisfy. Preparing to take over the family business is no easy feat."

Matthew's eyes met Jiyeon's again, a spark of curiosity igniting within him. "Anyway, what about you, Jiyeon? Do you have any passions or talents that I need to know?"

"I do Ballet. Ever since I was five. Been into competitions local and international. Awards are already stacked on my bedroom like posters." She drank the remaining champagne in one go.

Matthew hummed approvingly as he heard that she does ballet. "Never knew I would meet a ballerina in this place."

His arm wrapped around her slender waist and pulled her closer to him. That sudden action made Jiyeon gasp. She quickly schooled her expression back to pokerface. "But I prefer seeing you in this kind of dress rather than the usual ballet outfit."

"Oh really?" Jiyeon leaned a bit closer. Their eyes locked with burning desire. "Did you use that script to any woman you met?"

"I admit, I do." He leans to her ear. Hot breath brushing that made her knees weaken but she holds on fast. "But you're the first woman who made me daringly fly into the flame, Darling."

Jiyeon felt Matthew's warm breath against her ear, every word sends a shiver down her spine. She could hardly believe the boldness of his words, but a part of her thrilled at the prospect of being the only one to ignite such passion in him.

"Flattery will get you nowhere, Matthew." she whispered back, her voice barely audible above the music and chatter of the party. Despite her words, there was a hint of playfulness in her tone.

Jiyeon's hand found its way to Matthew's chest, feeling the firm muscles beneath his suit jacket. She traced a finger along his necktie, her touch deliberate and teasing.

"But perhaps we should put that energy... to the test, hmm? But first..." Jiyeon grabbed his glass and drank the remaining liquid. Which made Matthew surprised of her boldness.

"That was... quite bold for a ballerina." He chuckled as he pulled her into his. He felt her soft curves through the fabric. The warmth and intensity of their intimacy.

Matthew sees the curious eyes of the crowd around them. Whispers of gossips caught his ears. He looked at her eyes and smiled.

"Let's go to a quieter place, shall we?" He offered his hand to her. He was anticipating for her approval and want to lead themselves into a exclusive hotel room. Spending a night with Jiyeon made him excite like a kid.

Jiyeon's heart raced at Matthew's suggestion, a thrill coursing through her veins. She nodded, a coy smile on her lips as she placed her hand in his.

Without another word, they slipped away from the prying eyes and whispers of the partygoers, weaving through the crowds with an air of secrecy and anticipation. Matthew led Jiyeon to the elevators, his grip on her hand tightening with each step.

Once inside the private lift, Matthew pressed the button for the top floor, where the most luxurious suites were located. The doors slid shut, enveloping them in a cocoon of silence broken only by Matthew pulling her into a deep kiss.

As they ascended, Jiyeon's pulse quickened, her imagination running wild with the possibilities of what lay ahead as she replies his kiss with equal favor. Their lips matched as they taste the alcohol and desire.

As seconds feels like eternity, The elevator doors finally opens. Matthew broke the kiss and gently dragged her all the way to the room 240.

He pulled out a keycard and the door automatically opens. Jiyeon's eyes roams around the interior. She spots a king sized bed covered by a violet silky covers, where she calculates in her mind that it's between 72x80 or 84 in size.

The windows are bigger like a door and also have violet curtains. Matthew went to the Vinyl player and played a soothing instrumental song. Next, He puts on the aromatic candles.

Jiyeon crossed her arms under her chest with a smug smile. "How romantic, Matthew. I can see this is the exact room where you bring your women."

He walked closer to her. His hands holds her hips as he leaned closer. His lips almost brushing to hers.

"Spot on but... I want you right here, right now. Jiyeon. Nobody can steal you away from me." With that, He claimed her lips again. Their lips locked in a passionate exchange of kisses.

Their tongues touched and danced in a erotic way possible. Suddenly, Jiyeon pushed him into the bed.

"I'll go for a nice and hot shower. Join me if you want to." Jiyeon pulled her dress over her head. Exposing her slender topless body to his hungry sight. Perky breasts topped with a pinkish stiff nipples. She has only the black lace panties that covers the part of her body that he wanted to see the most.

With a smirk, Jiyeon walked into the bathroom. Hips swayed at each step. Matthew watched, transfixed, as Jiyeon's slender form disappeared behind the bathroom door. His cock throbbed with anticipation, straining against his boxers as he imagined peeling off those lacy panties and burying himself deep within her slick heat.

He followed close behind, shedding his clothes with haste, not bothering to fold or hang anything up. Naked, he strode into the bathroom, steam already rising from the large walk-in shower.

Jiyeon stood beneath the cascading water, rivulets streaming down her porcelain skin. She turned to face him, a sultry grin playing on her lips as her soapy hands trailed down her stomach, teasing the edges of her underwear.

"Care to join me, Matthew?" she purred, her voice husky with desire. "I promise I won't bite..."

Matthew chuckled at her playful words. His eyes appreciates her almost naked form. "I should be the one who will warn you, Jiyeon."

He positioned behind her, lips brushing her ear as he spoke. "I bite.. roughly if you want." He bit her earlobe. Jiyeon gasped, audible from the sound of a running water.

Jiyeon never expected this but it's not entirely unpleasant. If anything, it just made her lean to him.

His erect cock pressed against her plush bottom. His hands starts roaming slowly around her soapy body until he cupped her perky breasts.

Jiyeon let out a soft moan as Matthew's fingers teased her sensitive nipples, rolling and tugging on the hardened buds. She arched her back, pressing her breasts more firmly into his palms.

"Mmm~ yes... just like that." she breathed, her voice heavy with lust. "Ughhh~~ Touch me more, Matthew."

As he continued to fondle her breasts, Jiyeon reached back with one hand, grasping his cock. She gave it a slow, deliberate stroke, relishing the way it twitched in her grasp.

Bending forward, she guided Matthew's cock between her ass cheeks, rubbing the tip against her soaked folds through her drenched panties. "Bet you can't wait to get inside me." she taunts, her hips rocking back to seek friction. "Peel it off, Matthew. Use your teeth on it."

With a growl of primal desire, Matthew yanked down Jiyeon's soaked panties using his teeth. letting them float away in the shower spray. He spread her cheeks wide open as he lined up his throbbing cock with her dripping entrance.

Then, with a swift, forceful thrust, he buried himself to the hilt inside her tight, wet heat. Jiyeon cried out in ecstasy, her hands holds on the tile wall as a support as he began to pound into her roughly.

"Yes! Fuck me harder!" Jiyeon begged, her voice echoing off the marble tiles. "Oh Gods! Rougher, Matthew!"

Matthew obliged, his hips snapping forward with brutal precision, driving his cock deeper with each thrust.

Matthew wrapped his arm around her waist to pull her upright. He claims her lips into another heated kiss. Jiyeon's flexibility made it possible to arch her back with ease. Her arms wrapped around his nape.

Breaking the kiss, Matthew spun Jiyeon around and lifted her up. plunging even deeper into her clenching pussy with each powerful stroke.

"You're so fucking tight!" Matthew rasped, his eyes blazing with raw hunger as he devoured Jiyeon's mouth again. "Gonna fill this sweet cunt with my cum..."

Jiyeon whimpered, her nails digging into Matthew's hair as she teetered on the brink of climax. "Fuck! Yes! Ah! Give it to me, Matthew!" she pleaded, her walls fluttering wildly around his pistoning cock.

With a final, deep thrust, Matthew buried himself inside Jiyeon's spasming depths. His cock pulsed as he unleashed a torrent of hot seed deep within her. His orgasm made her come undone as well.

"Ahhh fuckkkk!" he roared, his entire body shaking with the force of his orgasm. Jiyeon's inner muscles milked him greedily, drawing out every last drop of his essence.

As the aftershocks subsided, Matthew lowered Jiyeon's trembling legs to the shower floor, keeping her pinned against the cool tile with his body. They shared a long, sated kiss, their hearts still racing in tandem.

Finally, Matthew broke the seal of their lips, a lazy smile curling his lips. "Well, that was certainly an unforgettable first encounter, Jiyeon."

"You're not bad than I honestly thought so. Thought you're just all talk and charm."

"Now we're nice and clean. I hope you still up for another round in bed, Handsome." Jiyeon whispered as she kissed his jawline.

That kiss reignites his desire for her. "Fuck, Jiyeon. You make me want you even more." He groaned.

Jiyeon bit her lower lip and lead him to the bed. She pushed him there and crawled between his legs. His still erect cock mere inches across her face.

"Let me return the favor, Matthew." Jiyeon proceeds to press kisses from his balls up to the tip. What made Matthew groan is Jiyeon's tongue swirling around the tip, focusing the clit of his cock. He never experienced this to other women he slept with before.

Matthew's head fell back against the pillows as Jiyeon's talented tongue worked magic on his throbbing cock. Her lips sealed around the head, suckling gently while her tongue flicked and danced across the underside.

"Oh fuck, Jiyeon." he gasped, his hands fisting the sheets as waves of pleasure crashed over him. "Your mouth feels incredible... Just like that..."

She took him deeper, her throat constricting around his shaft as she bobbed up and down. Matthew's hips bucked involuntarily, fucking her face with desperate urgency.

Suddenly, Jiyeon released him with a pop, a mischievous glint in her eye. "Not yet, handsome. I want to ride your cock this time." She licked a stripe up his length, coating herself with pre-cum before lowering at his cock with ease.

Matthew's eyes rolled back as Jiyeon sank down onto his rigid cock, her slick heat engulfing him completely. He groaned deeply, savoring the sensation of being fully inside within her tight, wet passage.

"Fuck, yes... Ride me, baby." he urged, his hands gripping her hips as she began to move. Jiyeon set a steady rhythm, her juices dripping down Matthew's thighs as she rode him with increasing fervor.

Matthew cupped her face, pulling her down for a searing kiss as he thrust upward to meet her downward thrusts.

"Faster, Matthew... Harder!" she commanded, her voice strained with pleasure. "Make me cum again, damn it..."

Matthew knows he's almost at his peak too. He thrust her harder. Jiyeon felt his cockhead knocking her hymen over and over again. She can't wait to cum on his cock once again.

With a fierce cry, Jiyeon slammed down onto Matthew's cock, her inner walls clamping down like a vice as she reached her peak. Her body shook with the force of her orgasm, wave after wave of intense pleasure crashing over her.

At the same moment, He pumped his hips upward. Burying himself to the hilt as jets of hot semen erupted deep inside her once again.

They collapsed together, panting and trembling in the aftermath of their climaxes. Matthew cradled Jiyeon in his arms, marveling at the way their bodies fit so perfectly.

Jiyeon looked up to him. Her eyes shining with mischief that still never left after the two rounds. "Up for one more?"

Matthew knew that kind of smile. He shaked his head in disbelief. "Damn it, Jiyeon. You'll be the death of me."

Jiyeon chuckled. "Atleast your death isn't that bad. Feeling the heaven for few times, Something that only you can experience that."

Jiyeon pulled herself upwards then lowers herself to his awaiting mouth. She gave his cock a kiss before sucking it whole. Engaging into 69 position as she grinds her clit to his mouth.

Matthew moaned around Jiyeon's slick sex as she ground her clit against his eager tongue. He sucked and licked her swollen nub, reveling in the taste of her arousal.

Jiyeon's hands fisted at sheets as she rocked her hips against his face. Matthew's free hand snaked between her thighs, finding her puckered asshole. He licked teasingly circling the entrance before pushing his finger inside.

"Ahhh! Fuck yes! Right there, Matthew!"Jiyeon gasped, her voice high and breathy with pleasure. "Don't stop... Oh gods, I'm gonna cum again!"

Matthew redoubled his efforts, devouring Jiyeon's clit with focus as he finger-fucked her ass. Jiyeon returns the favor as she sucked his cock with equal pace. Determined to make themselves come undone for the third time.

Matthew's tongue darted rapidly over Jiyeon's throbbing clit as he plunged a second finger into her tight asshole. The dual stimulation proved too much, and Jiyeon's body seized up, her orgasm ripping through her like a tidal wave.

"Matthew! Oh fuck, yes! I'm cumming!" she screamed, her tight asshole clenching rhythmically around his probing digits as she squirted her release onto his mouth.

Matthew drank every drop, his own climax building at the edge. With a final, desperate suck, she sent him into another peak, shoots his cum down to her throat.

After a while, He pulled her closer to him and embraced her spent panting body. Jiyeon slowly went to sleep. Matthew watched her peaceful sleeping face adoringly.

He thought in his mind that maybe Jiyeon is the one for him. He's tired of flirting and fucking dozens of women. He's tired of temporary satisfcation.

He leaned to kiss her forehead and slept with her for the rest of the night

○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●

Morning light filtered through the curtains. Matthew woke up, his heart beating fast with genuine worries as he's alone in the room. "Jiyeon? Where are you?"

He dressed up and was ready to leave to find Jiyeon when he saw a pink handkerchief with Jiyeon's name written on it in a cursive way at the bedside table. There he finds a phone number, likely it was Jiyeon's number written on the fabric.

Matthew dialed the number, his heart beating with anticipation. "Matthew?" Her warm, melodic voice filled his ears, instantly putting a smile on his face.

"Good morning, beautiful." he said, trying to keep his tone casual despite the butterflies in his stomach. "I was starting to worry when I couldn't find you this morning."

Jiyeon laughed softly, the sound music to his ears. "Sorry about that. I needed to get home as early as possible because my father was almost going to start a search operation for me."

Matthew chuckled, feeling a sense of contentment wash over him. "Of course, I understand that. We left the party without telling him."

"If you have time around 3 pm, Come to the ballet school near the grand park. You can watch me there."

"Sound nice, Jiyeon. I'll be there. Maybe we can set-up a picnic date right after your class."

Jiyeon gasped at the sudden picnic date inviration. She smiled, the one that reaches to her ears. "Such a romantic you are, Matthew. I'll be waiting then."

Both ends the call with anticipation of their first date. Matthew will do anything, everything at this point just to get her heart.

She is sitting on a bed in soft lighting, wearing a loose white top that’s slipping off one shoulder. Her face is turned a little, but you know that small nose, those big eyes, the way her dark hair falls just past her chin.

The one who always sits in the back row, speaks so quietly the teacher has to ask her to repeat everything, blushes when anyone looks at her too long.

Your heart starts banging hard. No way. You zoom in. Same tiny mole under her left eye. Same habit of biting her lower lip when she’s nervous. It’s really her.

You sit up straight. Fingers shake a little as you click the profile.

Username is something simple like “ji.softie” with a pink heart emoji. Bio says: “shy girl trying new things ♡ tips make me brave hehe”.

Only three posts so far. The cheapest subscription is $8 a month.

You tell yourself you’re just checking if it’s really her, nothing creepy, just curious.

You hit subscribe. Card goes through in two seconds.

Inside there are only seven photos and one short video. The lighting is bad—yellow from a cheap lamp, shadows everywhere. The phone camera is shaky, focus is soft. But it’s her.

One picture she’s in a thin tank top and shorts, knees pulled up, looking down. Another one she’s lying on her stomach, shirt riding up her back a little.

The video is 12 seconds: she waves shyly at the camera, says in her small voice, “Hi… um… thank you for coming here… I hope you like it…”

You feel weird. Not excited like you thought you would. More like… worried? She looks so uncomfortable. The comments are mostly basic stuff, “cute”, “more pls”, one guy wrote “smile more baby”.

She replied to almost every single one with “thank youuu ♡” even though you can tell she’s forcing it.

You close the app. Stare at the ceiling for a long time.

Sleep doesn’t come easy.

Next morning at school you see her in the hallway. She’s wearing the usual oversized hoodie, backpack straps tight on both shoulders, head down as she walks. Same Yeonji. Like nothing changed.

You catch up to her near the lockers.

“Hey, Yeonji.”

She jumps a little, turns. Her eyes go wide when she sees it’s you.

“Oh… hi…”

Her voice is extra small today.

You scratch the back of your neck. “Um… can we talk somewhere? Just quick. Not here.”

She looks around like she’s scared someone’s watching. Then nods once.

You both end up in the empty stairwell on the third floor. No one ever comes here.

You take a breath. “I… I saw your page last night.”

Her face goes white. Like all the blood disappears. She steps back until her back hits the wall.

“You… what?”

“I’m not gonna tell anyone,” you say fast. “I swear. I just… I subscribed because I couldn’t believe it was you. And then I saw the pictures and… they’re really bad quality. Like, really bad. You deserve better ones.”

She stares at the floor. Hands twist the hem of her hoodie. “Please don’t tell anyone. Please. My family… they would kill me. I just needed money. Tuition is expensive and my mom’s working two jobs and—”

“Hey, hey, I’m not judging,” you cut in. “I get it. I’m not here to make you feel bad. I just… I have a camera. A real one. My brother used to do photography so he gave me his old DSLR and lights and stuff. I know how to use it. If you want… I can help you take better photos. Free. No weird stuff. Just so you look good and feel more confident.”

She finally looks up. Eyes shiny like she might cry. “Why would you do that?”

“Because you look scared in those pictures,” you say honestly. “And you don’t have to. Not if someone helps a little.”

She’s quiet for almost a full minute. Then she whispers, “You really won’t tell?”

“Never. Pinky promise if you want.”

A tiny laugh slips out of her. First time you’ve heard her laugh. “You’re so childish.”

“Yeah well, it works.”

She bites her lip. Thinking. Then nods slowly. “Okay… but only if we do it somewhere safe. And… nothing too much. Just cute stuff. I’m not… I’m not ready for anything crazy.”

“Sure. Only what you’re comfortable with.”

That Saturday she texts you the address of her aunt’s empty apartment. Her aunt is overseas for three months, so the place is free. You show up at 2 p.m. with your camera bag, tripod, two softbox lights, and a reflector disk.

She opens the door wearing a simple baby blue dress she probably bought for the page. Hair down, light makeup. She looks nervous but she tries to smile.

“Hi…”

“Hi. Nice place.”

“Yeah… quiet.”

You set up in the living room. Big window with white curtains, good natural light. You show her how the lights work, explain soft shadows vs hard ones. She listens carefully, nodding even though you can tell she’s still scared.

“Okay,” you say. “Let’s start easy. Just sit on the couch. Look at me, then look away. Whatever feels natural.”

She sits. Crosses her legs. Looks at you for two seconds then looks down at her hands.

Click. Click.

“You can relax your shoulders,” you tell her. “Breathe out slow.”

She does. A little better.

“Nice. Now maybe lean back a bit. Rest your arm on the back of the couch.”

Click. Click.

She starts to loosen up after ten minutes. Starts moving on her own. Turns her head, plays with her hair, gives a small shy smile.

“That one’s good,” you say, checking the screen. “You look really pretty here.”

She blushes hard. “Stop…”

“I’m serious. Look.”

You turn the camera so she can see. Her eyes go big.

“Oh… that’s me?”

“Yup. Told you the camera makes a difference.”

She smiles for real this time. Small, but real.

You do more poses. Some standing by the window. Some sitting on the floor with knees up. Nothing sexy, just soft and cute like her page says. She even giggles when you tell her to “do the cute peace sign thing”.

After an hour she says, “Can we try… maybe lying down? Like one of the photos I already posted?”

“Sure. Where?”

She points to the bedroom. “There’s better light.”

You move everything. She lies on her stomach, chin on her hands, kicking her feet a little. You get low angle shots, tell her to look at the camera then look away dreamy-like.

Click.

“Perfect,” you say. “That’s gonna get a lot of likes.”

She laughs softly. “You think?”

“I know.”

When you’re done you sit on the floor together and go through the photos on the camera screen. Over 120 shots. At least thirty are really good.

“Which ones do you like?” you ask.

She points shyly. “This one… and this… oh this smile one is nice…”

You copy them to her USB drive. “You can edit them a little if you want. Or I can help with Lightroom next time.”

“Next time?” she asks.

“If you want. No pressure.”

She looks at you for a long second. Then says quietly, “Thank you. Really. I was so scared to post anything new. But now… I feel better.”

“You’re welcome.”

She walks you to the door. Before you leave she stops you.

“Um… can I hug you? Is that weird?”

You laugh. “Not weird.”

She steps forward and gives you a quick, tight hug. Smells like vanilla shampoo.

When she pulls back her cheeks are pink. “Don’t tell anyone about today either, okay?”

“Secret’s safe.”

You leave feeling lighter than you expected.

Next day, you check her page just once. She uploaded six new photos. The ones you took. Lighting perfect, focus sharp, her smile shy but real. Comments are going crazy: “Finally some good pics!”, “You look amazing”, “Queen behavior”. Tips pouring in.

She sent you one private message on OnlyFans.

“thank you for everything ♡ maybe next weekend… we can try video? only if you want”

You smile at your phone.

Yeah. You want.

Two weeks pass fast. You’ve met up three more times at her aunt’s apartment. Each session gets a little easier. She’s less jumpy now, laughs more when you joke about bad angles. You’ve shot maybe 600 good photos total.

She’s posted most of them—slowly, one or two a day. Her follower count went from 47 to 312. Tips are better too, but not great.

Last time you checked, she said she made enough for one month’s phone bill and half her textbook.

You’re at school again, Thursday lunch break. She finds you first this time, outside near the old basketball court where no one hangs out.

“Hey,” she says, voice still quiet but not shaking anymore.

“Hey. What’s up?”

She looks around, then steps closer. “Can we talk? Like… real talk.”

You nod. You both sit on the low concrete wall.

She pulls her knees up. “The new photos are doing okay. People like them. But… it’s still slow. I need more. Like… faster money. My mom’s landlord keeps calling about the rent.”

You stay quiet, let her talk.

“I was thinking,” she says, cheeks already pink. “Maybe… cuter but… sexier? Not naked or anything. Just… teasing. Like, showing a little more. Cleavage. Thighs. That kind of thing. People pay more for that, right?”

You feel your throat get tight. “Yeah. Probably.”

She looks at you quick, then away. “I’m scared to do it alone. The angles are hard. And I don’t want it to look… cheap. Like the first ones.”

You rub your hands on your jeans. “You want me to shoot those too?”

She nods fast. “Only if you’re okay. You can say no. I’ll understand.”

You think for a second. “I’m okay. As long as you’re sure. We stop anytime you say stop.”

Her shoulders drop like she was holding her breath. “Thank you. Really.”

“Saturday again?”

“Yeah. Same time.”

Saturday comes. You show up with the usual gear plus a couple extra things: a small fan for hair movement, and a soft blanket she asked for.

She opens the door in a loose white button-up shirt—way too big, sleeves rolled up—and black bike shorts. Hair loose, light lip gloss, no other makeup.

“Hi,” she says, smiling small.

“Hi. You ready?”

“Kinda nervous. But yeah.”

You set up in the living room first. Big window still gives the best light. She stands there fidgeting.

“Okay,” you say. “We start easy. Just unbutton the top two buttons. Lean forward a little when you sit.”

She does it slowly. Fingers shake a bit on the buttons. Shirt opens just enough to show the curve of her chest and a thin black bra strap. She sits on the couch, leans forward, arms pushing her chest together a little.

Click. Click.

“Chin down a bit,” you tell her. “Eyes up at me.”

She does. Bites her lip. Looks straight into the lens.

Click.

“Good. Really good. Now cross your legs. Let the shirt fall open more on one side.”

She shifts. Shirt slips off her shoulder. Skin looks soft in the light. Thighs press together, smooth and shiny from lotion she probably put on.

You swallow. Keep it professional. “Perfect. Tilt your head. Play with your hair.”

She twirls a strand around her finger. Gives a tiny smile, shy but teasing now.

Click. Click. Click.

After twenty minutes she’s looser. You move to the floor. She lies on her stomach on the blanket, legs bent up behind her, feet kicking lightly. Shirt rides up her back, shows the dip of her waist. You get low shots—her looking back over her shoulder, cleavage visible from the angle, thighs framed nicely.

“Arch your back a little,” you say.

She does. The curve makes everything look… inviting.

“Like that?”

“Yeah. Exactly like that.”

You show her one on the screen. Her eyes go wide.

“Wow… that’s… me?”

“Yup. Looks expensive.”

She laughs, embarrassed. “People will like this?”

“Guys will lose their minds.”

She blushes harder but nods. “Okay. Let’s do more.”

Next pose she sits against the couch, knees up, arms hugging them so her chest pushes forward. Shirt open three buttons now. You can see the lace edge of her bra. She lets one strap slip down her arm.

“Tease it,” you say. “Like you’re about to fix it but don’t.”

She hooks a finger under the strap, pulls it down more, then lets it hang. Looks at the camera with big eyes.

Click.

“God, Yeonji…” you mutter.

You move to the bedroom for the last set. Bed has white sheets, soft light from the lamp. She lies on her side, one leg bent, thigh exposed. Shirt falls open completely on one side—cleavage full now, bra barely covering. She props herself on her elbow, hair spilling over her shoulder.

“Touch your lip,” you say.

She does. Runs her finger across her bottom lip slow.

Click. Click.

“Now look away… like you’re shy but want them to keep watching.”

She turns her head, glances back quick, then away again. Smiles tiny.

Click.

You do a few more. Her on all fours, back arched, looking back. Shirt hanging loose, cleavage spilling forward. Then sitting up, knees apart a little, hands on her thighs, pushing them together then apart just enough.

Every click she checks with you.

“Is this too much?”

“No. It’s perfect. Sexy but still you.”

After an hour and a half she sits up, shirt half closed again. Breathing a little fast.

“I think… that’s enough for today.”

“Yeah. You did amazing.”

You both sit on the bed going through the shots. Over 180 photos. At least half are fire—teasing, cute, hot without crossing her line.

She picks twenty to edit later. “These ones… I think I can post. Maybe in sets. Like… ‘shy but brave today’ or something.”

She looks at you. “You’re really good at this. Like… you make me feel safe. Not weird.”

“I’m glad. That’s the point.”

She hugs her knees. Quiet for a bit. Then says, “Can I ask something personal?”

“Sure.”

“Do you… think I’m pretty? Like… for real? Not just saying it for the photos.”

You look at her. “Yeah. I do. Always have. Even before all this. You’re the prettiest girl in class. Just didn’t know how to say it.”

Her face goes bright red. She hides it in her hands. “Stoppp…”

“It’s true.”

She peeks through her fingers. “Thanks.”

You pack up slow. She walks you to the door like always.

Before you leave she stops you. “Next time… maybe we try video? Short clips. Like… me moving slow. Teasing more.”

“If you want.”

“I think I do. With you directing. You’re good at telling me what looks nice.”

“Okay. Just tell me when.”

She smiles. Small, real, a little bolder now.

“Next Saturday?”

“Next Saturday.”

You leave. Heart beating faster than usual.

That night she posts the first teaser photo on her page. Just her sitting, shirt open two buttons, looking at the camera with that shy-sexy smile.

Caption: “feeling brave today… what do you think? ♡”

Comments explode. Tips start coming in before you even close the app.

Your phone buzzes. Message from her private chat.

“already made $42 in ten minutes… thank you thank you thank youuu ♡ next week i want to try even cuter outfits. you pick one for me?”

You type back fast.

“I’ll bring ideas.”

Saturday rolls around again. You show up at the aunt’s apartment a little early, camera bag heavier because you brought the gimbal for smoother video and an extra memory card.

She opens the door in the same oversized white button-up and black bike shorts. But today the top three buttons are already undone, and she’s got on a lacy black bra that peeks out more than before. Hair’s a little messy like she just ran her fingers through it.

She looks… fuck, she looks hot. Like she knows it too.

“Hi,” she says, “Come in.”

You set up in the bedroom this time. Bed made with fresh white sheets. You mount the camera on the tripod first, then switch to handheld with gimbal for the close stuff.

She sits on the edge of the bed, knees together, hands in her lap. “So… how do we start?”

“Short clips. 15-30 seconds each. We do a few simple ones first. Like… just you moving slow. Looking at the camera. Maybe play with your shirt.”

She nods. Bites her lip. “Okay. Tell me what to do.”

You hit record.

“Unbutton one more. Slow. Look down like you’re shy, then up at me.”

Her fingers move to the fourth button. Pops it open. Shirt falls apart more—cleavage deep now, the lace bra barely holding her in. She looks down, cheeks pink, then lifts her eyes slow to the lens.

You zoom in a little. Her breathing makes her chest rise and fall. Fuck. You shift your legs because you’re already getting hard. Jeans feel tight.

“Perfect. Now lean back on your hands. Arch a bit.”

She does. Shirt slips off both shoulders. Bra straps down. Thighs part just a little. She looks straight at you—through the camera—like she’s inviting something.

Click goes the shutter in your head even though it’s video. You’re close now. Maybe two feet away. You can smell her vanilla lotion mixed with something warmer.

“Touch your hair. Pull it back slow.”

She does. Neck exposed. Lips part a tiny bit.

You swallow hard. “Good. Now… trace your finger down your neck. Down to your chest.”

Her finger follows. Slow. Dips between her cleavage. She presses her arms together a little—makes it deeper. Looks up at you with those big eyes.

Your dick twitches. Hard. You adjust to hide how obvious it’s getting.

The clip ends. You stop recording. Breathing heavier than her.

“Want to see?” you ask.

She scoots closer on the bed. Your knees almost touch hers now. You turn the screen. She watches herself—close up, teasing, cleavage spilling.

“Wow,” she whispers. “I look… different.”

“You look amazing.”

She looks at you. Not the camera. You. “Thanks to you.”

You clear your throat. “Next one?”

“Yeah.”

This time she lies back on the pillows. Shirt open all the way now—bra fully visible, nipples hard under the lace. You get low, close to her thighs.

“Spread your legs a little. Just enough.”

She does. Bike shorts tight. She runs her hands up her inner thighs slow. Stops high up. Fingers brush the edge of the fabric.

You’re right there. Lens inches from her skin. Your face is close too. You can feel the heat off her.

“Tease it more,” you say, voice rougher than you mean.

She hooks a finger under the hem of her shorts. Pulls it aside just a bit—not showing everything, but close. Then her other hand slides down. Fingers press against the fabric over her crotch. Slow circles.

Holy shit.

You’re rock hard now. Painful. You shift again, try to focus on the frame.

She moans soft—just a tiny sound. Barely there. But it hits you like a punch.

“Like this?” she asks, voice breathy.

“Yeah… exactly like that.”

Her fingers move faster for a second, then slow again. She looks right at you. Eyes half-lidded.

“You’re close,” she says quietly.

You nod. “Handheld’s better for this.”

“No… I mean you. You’re hard, right?”

Your face burns. “Yeah.”

She smiles. Small, teasing. “Good. Means it looks real.”

She keeps going. Fingers pressing harder. Hips lift a tiny bit off the bed. Shirt falls completely open. Breasts almost out.

You keep filming. Professional. Barely. Every second feels like forever.

The clip ends. You stop. Hands shake a little.

She sits up slow. Doesn’t button anything. Just looks at you.

“Was that okay?”

“More than okay.”

She scoots even closer. Thighs brush yours now. “Can we do one more? Closer. Like… you hold the camera right here.”

She takes your hand. Guides it so the lens is maybe six inches from her chest.

“Record.”

You do.

She leans in. Breasts almost touch the lens. She cups them, pushes together. Deep cleavage. Then one hand drops back down—fingers slip under the shorts this time. Not inside, but rubbing over her clit through the fabric. Slow. Wet spot starting to show.

She whimpers. Real.

Your dick strains against your jeans. You’re dying to touch her. But you don’t. Professional. You promised.

“Yeonji…”

“Shh,” she says. “Just film.”

She rocks her hips a little. Fingers moving in tight circles. Breathing fast.

You zoom in more. Capture every detail—the way her thighs tense, the flush on her chest, the way her lips part.

Clip ends.

She stops. Pulls her hand out. Looks at you with glassy eyes.

“That… felt good.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Silence. Heavy.

She reaches out. Touches your thigh. High up. Close to where you’re aching.

“You’re really hard,” she whispers.

“Can’t help it. You’re fucking hot.”

She laughs soft. “Thanks.”

Her fingers brush over the bulge. Just once. Light.

You suck in a breath.

“But… we keep it professional, right?” she says. Teasing now.

“Yeah,” you manage. “Your call.”

She pulls back. Buttons one button. Smiles shy again—like the old Yeonji peeked out.

“Maybe next time… we see.”

You nod. Pack up slow. Both of you quiet.

At the door she hugs you. Body presses close. You feel everything—her breasts against your chest, her heat.

“Thanks for today,” she murmurs.

“Anytime.”

She pulls back. “Check the page tomorrow. I’ll post one clip. The first one.”

“Okay.”

You leave. Hard as hell the whole walk home.

That night you check. She posted. 20-second teaser. Her unbuttoning slow, leaning forward, cleavage deep. Caption: “getting closer… do you like? ♡”

Tips flood in. Comments wild.

Your phone buzzes. Message from her.

“made $180 already… you’re magic. next saturday? i want to try… more. if you’re still okay being close.”

You type back.

“Still okay. More than okay.”

She sends three hearts.

You lie back. Hand slips down. Think about her fingers. Her moans. Her eyes.

Next Saturday arrives faster than you expect.

You barely slept the night before.

Your phone’s been buzzing with her notifications all week—little updates like “bought the lingerie today ♡” and “people keep requesting more close stuff… they said they’d tip big if I do lingerie set.”

Last night she sent a screenshot: one subscriber promised $500 if she posted a full lingerie video set. Easy money. She said yes.

You knock on the apartment door at 2 p.m. sharp. Heart hammering.

She opens it wearing a long black robe tied loose. Hair curled a little, makeup soft but bolder—redder lips, darker lashes. She looks nervous but excited.

“Hi,” she says, stepping aside. “Come in. I… um… got everything ready.”

Living room lights are already set up the way you taught her. Bed in the corner has new white satin sheets she must’ve bought. Camera gear’s half unpacked on the floor.

You set up quick. Tripod, gimbal, extra battery. She disappears into the bathroom for a minute, comes back without using the robe but draped on her arms.

Black lace lingerie. Thin straps, sheer cups that don’t hide much, high-cut bottoms that show the curve of her hips. Garters clipped to thigh-high stockings. She’s barefoot, toes painted pink.

“Wow,” you breathe out before you can stop it.

She blushes hard, crosses her arms over her chest. “Too much?”

“No. Perfect. Exactly what they’re asking for.”

She smiles small. “Okay. Let’s start.”

First clips are easy. She stands by the window, light hitting the lace just right. Turns slow. Lets the robe slip off her shoulders completely. You film from low angle—thighs framed, lace stretching over her breasts.

“Lean forward a little,” you say.

She does. Cleavage spills forward. Nipples press against the sheer fabric.

Click. Record.

Next she sits on the bed edge. Legs crossed, then uncrossed slow. Hands run up her thighs, trace the garter straps.

You move closer. Handheld now. Lens inches from her skin.

“Play with the straps,” you tell her. “Tease pulling them down.”

Her fingers hook under one garter. Tugs it down an inch, lets it snap back. Does it again. Looks straight at the camera—straight at you.

Your jeans are tight again. Harder than last time. You shift your weight.

She notices. Smiles tiny. “You okay?”

“Yeah. Keep going.”

She lies back on the pillows. Arms above her head. Back arches. Breasts lift. Lace strains.

“Spread your legs a bit,” you say, voice low.

She does. Knees apart. Hand slides down her stomach, over the lace panties. Fingers press lightly. Circles slow.

You’re right there. On your knees at the foot of the bed. Camera close to her inner thigh. You can see the damp spot starting on the black lace.

She whimpers. Soft. Real.

“More?” she asks.

“Yeah.”

She hooks her thumbs in the sides of her panties. Pulls them down just enough—barely an inch. Not showing everything, but close. Fingers slip under the fabric. Rubs herself slow. Hips roll up a little.

Fuck.

You’re throbbing. Can’t think straight. The camera’s shaking in your hand.

She looks at you. Eyes dark. “Come closer.”

You do. Crawl up the bed a little. Lens hovers over her stomach now. You’re almost on top of her—chest close to hers, knees between her spread thighs.

She reaches up. Fingers brush your wrist. Guides the camera lower. Right over her hand moving under the lace.

Her breathing’s fast. Chest rising quick. Nipples hard through the sheer cups.

You’re shaking. Can’t hold the angle steady anymore.

“Yeonji…”

She stops moving her hand. Looks up at you.

You hit stop on the camera. Set it aside on the nightstand. Careful. Still recording the audio maybe, but fuck it.

She doesn’t move. Just watches you.

You lean down slow. Give her time to say no.

She doesn’t.

Your lips brush her neck. Soft skin. Warm. Smells like vanilla and something sweeter now—arousal.

She gasps quiet. Head tilts back.

You kiss again. Open mouth this time. Tongue traces the line of her throat. Down to the hollow above her collarbone.

Her hands find your shoulders. Grip tight.

“Keep going,” she whispers.

You do. Kiss lower. Along the edge of the lace bra. Nudge the strap down with your teeth. Kiss the top swell of her breast.

She arches up. Presses herself closer.

Your hand slides to her waist. Fingers dig in a little. Feel the heat of her skin through the thin lace.

She moans soft. “Please…”

You pull back just enough to look at her face. Cheeks flushed. Lips parted. Eyes glassy.

“You sure?” you ask. Voice rough.

She nods fast. “Yeah. I want… I want you.”

You kiss her neck again. Harder this time. Suck lightly. She whimpers.

Your hand moves down. Over her stomach. To the edge of her panties. Fingers brush where hers were.

She bucks a little. “Touch me…”

You do. Slip under the lace. Find her wet. Hot. Slide one finger slow along her slit.

She cries out small. Hips lift.

You add another finger. Circle her clit gentle at first. Then firmer when she moans louder.

Her hands grab your shirt. Pull you down. Your mouth finds hers this time. First real kiss. Soft lips. Tongue shy at first, then hungry.

She tastes like lip gloss and want.

You keep moving your fingers. In and out slow. Thumb on her clit.

She’s trembling. Breathing fast against your mouth.

“More,” she gasps. “Please…”

You push deeper. Curl your fingers. Hit that spot.

She breaks the kiss. Head falls back. “Oh god—”

Her thighs clamp around your hand. Body tenses. Shakes hard.

She comes quiet but intense. Small cries. Nails digging into your arms.

You slow your fingers. Let her ride it out. Kiss her neck again while she catches her breath.

She looks up at you. Eyes big, wet, needy.

“You… you stopped the camera,” she whispers.

“Yeah.”

“You don’t have to stop everything.”

You kiss her mouth this time. Deep. She kisses back hard, tongue sliding against yours, small moan in her throat.

Your hand’s still between her legs. She grinds against your palm once, twice.

“Take this off,” she says, tugging at your shirt.

You sit up just enough to pull it over your head. She watches, bites her lip. Her hands go to your jeans next. Fingers fumble with the button.

You help. Jeans down. Boxers too. Your dick springs free—hard, leaking at the tip.

Her eyes go wide. “Oh…”

She reaches out. Wraps her small hand around you. Strokes slow. Up. Down.

“Fuck, Yeonji…”

She smiles shy but wicked. “You helped me so much… let me help you now.”

She scoots down the bed a little. Lies back on the pillows. Looks up at you.

“Come here.”

You straddle her chest. Careful not to crush her. Knees on either side of her ribs.

She pushes her breasts together with both hands. Lace bra cups still on, but she tugs the cups down. Nipples hard, pink. Skin soft.

Your dick slides between them. Hot. Smooth.

She moans quiet. “Like this?”

“Yeah… just like that.”

She squeezes tighter. You thrust slow at first. Tip bumping her chin.

She tilts her head back. Opens her mouth a little. Tongue flicks out, catches the head on each upstroke.

“God… you’re so good,” you groan.

She giggles soft. “You taught me how to pose… now I’m posing for you.”

You thrust faster. Breasts bounce with each push. She looks up at you the whole time—eyes locked. Lips parted.

“Feels good?” she asks.

“So fucking good.”

She spits down once—makes it slicker. Hands press harder. You slide easier now. Wet sounds fill the room.

You’re close already. Too close.

“Slow down,” she stops moving her hands. Just holds you there, squeezed between her tits.

“Not yet,” she whispers. “I want more.”

You pull back.

She sits up quick. On her knees now. Face level with your dick.

She looks up. “Can I…?”

“Yeah.”

She leans in. Lips wrap around the head. Tongue swirls. Then deeper. Takes half in one go.

You groan loud. Hand in her hair—not pushing, just holding.

She bobs slow. Then faster. Hollows her cheeks. Looks up again—eyes watering a little.

You can’t hold back. Thrust shallow into her mouth.

She moans around you. Vibration shoots through you.

“Fuck… Yeonji…”

She pulls off with a wet pop. Strings of spit connect her lips to your tip.

“Face fuck me,” she says. Quiet. But clear.

You hesitate one second.

“Please,” she adds.

You grip her hair firmer. Guide her back down.

She opens wide. You push in. Deeper this time. Hit the back of her throat.

She gags soft. Eyes tear up. But she doesn’t pull away.

You thrust steady. Not too hard. In. Out. Her throat tight around you.

She moans muffled. Hands on your thighs. Nails digging in.

You go faster. Shallow thrusts now. Face fucking her like she asked.

Tears streak her cheeks. Makeup smudges a little. She looks wrecked. Beautiful.

“Fuck… you take it so good,” you pant.

She hums agreement. Vibrates again.

You’re right there.

“Gonna come,” you warn.

She pulls off just enough to speak. Voice hoarse. “In my mouth?”

You shake your head. “Not yet.”

You pull out. She gasps for air.

You push her back down gentle. On her back again.

She spreads her legs wide. Panties shoved to the side now. Wet. Ready.

You line up. Rub the head against her slit.

She whimpers. “Please… fuck me.”

You push in slow. Inch by inch.

She’s tight. Hot. Wet.

Her head falls back. “Oh god… so big…”

You bottom out. Hold there.

She wraps her legs around your waist. Pulls you closer.

“Move,” she begs.

You do. Slow thrusts first. Deep.

She moans every time you bottom out.

“Harder,” she says after a minute.

You pick up speed. Bed creaks. Skin slaps skin.

Her nails rake your back.

“Yes… like that… fuck…”

You lean down. Kiss her neck again. Then her mouth. Messy. Desperate.

She kisses back fierce. Tongue everywhere.

You angle up. Hit deeper.

She cries out. “There—right there—”

You keep hitting it. Fast now. Hard.

Her whole body shakes.

“I’m gonna come again,” she gasps.

“Come for me,” you growl.

She does. Hard. Walls clench around you. Legs lock tight. Back arches off the bed.

You fuck her through it. Don’t stop.

She’s whimpering nonstop.

You’re close. Balls tighten.

“Where?” you ask.

“Inside… please… I’m on the pill…”

You thrust deep one last time. Bury yourself. Come hard. Pulse after pulse.

She moans soft. Feels you fill her.

You collapse on top. Both panting.

She strokes your hair. Kisses your shoulder.

You stay like that a minute. Still inside her. Softening slow.

She whispers, “Thank you.”

You lift your head. “For what?”

“For everything.” Her voice cracks a little. “For the photos. The videos. Believing I could do this. Making me feel… pretty. Wanted. Safe. And… this.”

You kiss her forehead. “You’re welcome.”

She smiles. Small. Real. Shy again.

“I made so much money because of you. But… this part? This was just for me.”

You pull out slow. She winces a little. Then sighs happy.

You lie beside her. She curls into your side. Head on your chest.

“We should probably check the camera,” you say.

She laughs. “Yeah… maybe we got some good audio at least.”

You both look over. Red light still blinking.

She reaches over. Hits stop.

Then turns back to you. Kisses you soft.

“Next week?” she asks.

You grin. “Next week.”

She snuggles closer.

“Thank you,” she whispers again. “For helping me… become this version of me.”

You hold her tight.

“Anytime, Yeonji.”

Next Saturday comes, but your phone stays quiet most of the day. No text about time, no “come over at 2?” Nothing.

You almost message first, but you wait. Around 6 p.m. your phone finally buzzes.

Yeonji: hey… no shoot today okay? Yeonji: can we just… walk instead? Yeonji: like normal. saturday night. downtown. Yeonji: i want to talk. not about photos.

You stare at the screen for a second. Heart does a weird flip—not the horny kind this time. Something softer.

You: yeah sure. where? Yeonji: meet me at the park entrance near the old fountain? 7:30?

You show up a few minutes early.

She’s already there, standing under a streetlamp in a loose white tank top, shorts jeans, sneakers, hair loose, small sling bags to carry her things. No makeup. Just Yeonji. The real one from class.

She spots you and waves small, like she’s nervous.

“Hey,” she says when you get close.

“Hey. You okay?”

She nods. “Yeah. Just… wanted a break from the apartment. From the camera.”

You start walking. The path around the park is lit with yellow lamps. Couples and groups pass by, laughing. Street food smells drift from the vendors outside the gate—grilled corn, roasted sweet potatoes.

She’s quiet at first. Hands in her pockets. Then she speaks.

“I made almost $2,000 last month. After fees and everything. First time I’ve ever had that much money at once.”

You glance at her. “That’s… wow. Good job.”

She smiles tiny. “Yeah. Rent’s paid. Mom’s not stressing as much. I even bought her new shoes. Told her it was from a part-time job. She believed me.”

Yeonji kicks a small pebble. “But sometimes I feel… gross. Like I’m lying to everyone. To her. To my friends. To myself a little.”

You stop walking. She stops too. Looks up at you.

“You’re not gross,” you say. “You needed money. You found a way. You’re careful. You set boundaries. That’s not gross. That’s smart.”

She looks away. Toward the fountain.

“I started because my scholarship only covers half tuition. Mom works doubles at the hospital. She comes home so tired she falls asleep at the kitchen table sometimes. I couldn’t watch that anymore. I thought… if I do this, just a little, I can help, at least. And it worked.”

She laughs soft. Not happy. “First week I cried after every post. Felt like I was selling pieces of me. But then the tips came. And people said nice things. Not all of them—some are creeps—but a lot just said ‘you’re beautiful’ or ‘thank you for sharing’. It… made me feel seen. In a way school never did.”

You start walking again. Slow, “You were always quiet in class. Like you were trying to disappear. But online… you’re not disappearing. You’re choosing how people see you.”

She nods. “That’s why I kept going. At first it was just money. Then it became… My choice? Like, I decide the angle. I decide how much to show. I decide when to stop. No one else.”

You smile a little. “You got really good at it too.”

She bumps your shoulder lightly. “Because of you, dummy. You made it look professional. Made me feel pretty instead of cheap.”

You scratch your back neck, “You were always pretty. I just pointed the camera at it.”

She’s quiet again. You pass a bench. She sits. You sit next to her.

“I’m scared I’ll get addicted to it,” she says. “The money. The attention. What if I need more and more? What if I cross lines I don’t want to cross?”

“Then you stop,” you say. “Or slow down. You’re in control. Not the page. Not the subscribers.”

She looks at you. Eyes searching. “You really think I can just… stop whenever?”

“Yeah. You already proved you can set rules. You told me ‘nothing I don’t want’. You stuck to it. Even when things got… intense.”

Her cheeks go pink. She looks down at her hands. “That day… when we… you know. That wasn’t for the camera.”

“I know.”

“It was for me. For us.” She swallows. “I like you. Like… a lot. Not just because you helped with photos. Because you saw me. The shy me. The scared me. And you didn’t laugh or run. You stayed.”

You reach over. Take her hand. Cold fingers. You warm them between yours.

“I like you too,” you say. “A lot. The shy you. The brave you. The one who moans when she comes. All of it.”

She laughs. Soft. Real. Squeezes your hand.

“I think… I want to keep the page. But slower. Maybe once or twice a week. Better quality. But not every day. I don’t want it to eat my life.”

“Sounds smart.”

“And… maybe we keep helping each other? Not just photos. Like this. Walking. Talking. Kissing if we want.”

You grin. “Kissing sounds good.”

She leans in. Kisses you quick. Cold lips. Warm inside. Tastes like mint gum.

When she pulls back she’s smiling bigger.

“Thank you,” she says. “For not judging. For helping me figure this out. For… being here tonight instead of behind a lens.”

“You’re welcome.”

She stands. Pulls you up. “Come on. There’s a stall that sells really good hotteok. I’m buying. My treat.”

You laugh. “With OnlyFans money?”

“Yup. First hotteok sponsored by my boobs.”

You both crack up. Walk toward the food stalls. Hand in hand.

The night’s cold, but you don’t feel it anymore.

Months pass. You and Yeonji grow closer quietly. At school she still sits in the back, but now she glances your way with a small secret smile. After class you walk her to the bus stop sometimes, talking about nothing and everything. No one suspects.

She keeps the page alive—two, maybe three posts a week max. No rush. You help when she asks. She schedules shoots carefully: Sunday afternoons mostly, at the aunt’s place or sometimes a cheap hotel room for new vibes. You browse Pinterest and Instagram together on her phone, saving soft pastel themes, cozy sweater sets, rainy window aesthetics. She loves the “girlfriend experience” look now—less tease, more intimate.

And yeah, you hook up again. And again. Slow makeouts turn into tangled sheets. She whispers “thank you” every time, like it’s still new. You tell her she doesn’t have to.

She just smiles and pulls you closer.