campus

For most, Friday nights meant partying. Bad decisions that'll wash over by Monday. Breaking off the shackles of humanity to get more wasted than humanly possibly. For Eunchae and Kyujin, Friday nights are for breaking out their favorite fluffy blanket—the one with the big wolf on it—and snuggling up on Eunchae's balcony underneath an audience of stars. Every Friday without fail, exactly in their assigned spots: Kyujin, the big spoon, and Eunchae, the little one.

Kyujin snuggles closer, nose pressed against the neck of her lover. "Did you get a new perfume?" Her soft voice sends tingles down Eunchae's spine.

"Nah," she responds. "I did get a new shampoo though. The grocery story ran out of what I usually get."

Kyujin takes another whiff. "It's nice. Strawberry?"

Eunchae nods, her brown hair tickling Kyujin's cheek. Another deep inhale, and all of a sudden, strawberries are all Kyujin can think about. Strawberry smoothies, bagels smothered with cream cheese and strawberry jam, those healthy cereals her mother buy with all those dried strawberry pieces. She couldn't get enough of it.

"Do you like it that much?" Eunchae giggles. "I'll buy it for you next time I go grocery shopping."

"No, no, it's just—"She sniffs right on her scalp"—it's just nice. I can't explain it."

"What shampoo do you use?" Eunchae shifts in her arms, and all of a sudden finds herself counting each individual eyelash lining the top of her cat-like eyes (She got to 10 before losing count).

"I don't know," Kyujin whispers into the narrowing space,"it changes every few weeks."

"It's nice," she guesses. It's hard to focus when her eyes are on those soft lips. Every week, Eunchae makes an effort to try and memorize each crease on them. Long, short, short, that one's a bit longer than the first, and she loses track all over again as the thumping in her ears persists. With legs tangled and arms enclosed, the interior of their shared wolf blanket feels like a sauna, both girls trying to outlast the other in the growing heat.

"My tummy feels funny," Eunchae admits. In response, Kyujin runs her hand underneath her shirt like it's a physical issue she can solve, feeling the way Eunchae tenses under her palm.

"Feels fine to me."

"You're stupid," she says, but her face is all smiles as Kyujin goes higher, higher, dragging against the gentle divots of her abs, and stopping at the hem of her sports bra. "Can't even figure out what shampoo to buy."

"What's wrong with a little exploration?" She teases her nail along the elastic, snapping it gently against Eunchae's skin.

"Nothing, really." Eunchae shifts closer, pulling Kyujin's thigh to her waist. "Are we still talking about shampoo?"

"A subject change would be nice." A soft press against her lips later and strawberries are on Kyujin's mind again. "Strawberry lip gloss?"

"That was a coincidence," Eunchae chuckles. "Do you like it?"

"Hmm, I should try it again just to be sure."

The air fills with the pucker of sticky lips and hushed giggles. Kyujin pulls close, and Eunchae lets her, lost in the headiness of being touched in ways only she would know. Beyond this balcony is nothing; irrelevant. Everything they need is right here, underneath the blanket with the wolf on it.

Eunchae whines. "You're gonna make me wake the neighbors again."

Kyujin has her chest pressed against her lover's back, hand trailing down to the waistband of her sweats. "Don't blame me because you can't keep your mouth shut."

"I'm the one that has to deal with them when you leave." Despite her protests, Eunchae spreads her legs, craving sweet release after such a long week. Another whimper escapes her lips as Kyujin invades her most intimate area with her delicate fingers.

She knows exactly what makes Eunchae tick: the sensitivity of her nipples, the speed she likes to be fucked silly, down to the crescendo of her moans as she approaches her climax. Kyujin gets drunk on the scent of strawberries, hands moving with a mind of their own on the body she's loved a thousand times before. All Eunchae can do is submit to the constant stream of dopamine.

"Shit, fuck," she slurs, vocabulary dumbed down to the essentials. She presses back into Kyujin, desperate to be touched, to be loved, to be fucked by her expert fingers. "God, you're so good…"

"I know," Kyujin smirks. If nothing, she takes immense pride in being able to see her like this—like putty in her hands, undone in all the best ways.

Eunchae turns her head. "Kiss me, please, I—" Her lips are claimed in an instant, moans suffocated by Kyujin's tongue. Against the whistling winds, all that can be heard is the hot stickiness of Eunchae's cunt, barely muffled by the blanket. The melody of their lovemaking is a secret only meant for them; whatever the neighbors argue is up for speculation.

Kyujin slows her pumping, down to occasional swipes against her lover's sweet spot. "I'm fucking starving for you," she huffs, trailing kisses on her throat, down to her soft breasts, lower still until she's hidden under the blanket.

Before Eunchae can even complain about the loss of Kyujin's fingers, her sweats are pulled to her ankles, and a tongue slides up her soaked thighs.

"Oh fuck, Kyujin," she moans, barely keeping it together. Without a kiss to keep her silent, she cups a hand over her mouth; it's all for naught as a flick of Kyujin's tongue against her clit turns her into a siren. Her poor neighbors.

Eunchae's words dissolve into vague grunts of "fuck", "yes", and "right there", her voice climbing up the register to that note Kyujin likes. She eats up her girlfriend's pretty heat, chasing that sound that lets her know she's done a good job, ready to drink up every last drop of her honey.

You want to text her back and say there’s no need for apologies. You’ll wait for her your whole life if need be, just like how you waited for her to debut again, waited for her merch in long lines—

“Hey there!”

You look up from your phone and your heart nearly stops.

Alright, you can remember how you got here now, actually. 

You weren’t even that into K-pop—well, until some of the bigger hits from 2NE1 came out. That got you a little interested. You had this bias against K-pop at first because it seemed incredibly mundane. But then you found out it was just… music, only sang in Korean. Fast forward to 2018, you saw the most beautiful girl on your screen who was competing to be in a produce group. Your life started there. 

And now, she’s standing right before you. Her smile is dazzling. It blinds you as you scramble to your feet, frantically bowing.

“Hi, I’m a huge fan!” you say. You’re aware that you’re making yourself look idiotic in front of your ultimate bias but you have no idea how to make it stop. Hitomi just makes your brain short-circuit. “Thank you for coming!”

Hitomi giggles. “I know you are. Otherwise you wouldn’t have joined our contest, right?”

You blush. Strike one, you guess. However, there’s only playful jest written on Hitomi’s round face. That’s just one of the many things you love about her: she’s genuine. The cutie pie public image doesn’t change the fact she’ll make whatever she feels known. You have evidence of it in your gallery: a video of her cursing in Japanese, photos of her smiling brightly, and of course, that wrenching video of her crying after their first win.

It’s parasocial to say, but you’ve been around for each other’s firsts. You were thrust into the real world as an adult the same time she was. She was your first bias who kept you afloat and looking forward to something in college, when all you could think about was if you were going to graduate or not. She introduced you to a whole world of music you didn’t know could be so good.

Funny. You had a lot of biases after IZ*ONE, but none could measure up to Hitomi.

“Right, sorry. It’s so nice to finally meet you in person.’’

“Oh, no need to apologize! I’m actually really thankful you joined.” She shakes your hand. Does she know that one touch almost made you faint? “It’s been a little scary debuting again in Korea. It’s nice to know I have fans who support me either way.”

She’s in this little crochet halter, the dark hues the opposite of that blonde hair. As perfect as she is, you realize that she’s just as human as you are. There’s a bit of sweat on her forehead, courtesy of the April heat. A little bit of her lipstick is smudged slightly around the corner of her mouth. She isn’t just a figment of the pixels on your phone screen. 

The only difference is she’s a hundred times more beautiful. 

It’s actually crazy—she’s just there, gesturing with her small hands, talking and smiling, and through it all she remains picture-perfect gorgeous. Paparazzi shots have nothing on her. They can look everywhere for an unflattering angle and be greeted with none.

“Well, I’ll always be here,” you say bashfully. “Would you like a drink?”

Hitomi’s eyes sparkle once more as they fixate on the menu. “Sure!” There’s a lot of delicacies worth trying here. 

“Unless, uh, of course—” You shrug. “You’d rather go somewhere else. I heard there’s a mall nearby with a new parlor.”

You don’t really know what to do here. You didn’t expect to win the contest her label held for their comeback: a few album purchases in exchange for a whole day with your bias. Was this going to be televised? Were there limits? You should’ve read the fine print.

Hitomi offers you a gentle smile. So many times you found refuge in it. You didn’t know it at the time when you were voting for her on Produce 48, but you were in it for the long ride.

“You really need to stop worrying so much. We can do whatever you like. As far as I’m concerned, I’m all yours.”

-

Now what the hell does that mean?

You’re not completely parasocial, for god’s sake. You’ve been a K-pop fan long enough to know these little sweet lines are scripted. Everything is manufactured and sold to consumers who’d devour anything if it had a pretty girl printed on it: a wink to the camera, outfits designed to hug every appealing curve, words of support in an online fancall. It would be stupid to fall for any of that. 

But when Hitomi’s in that tiny little halter, eyes never leaving you and her lithe legs crossed, whatever else should you think about?

Hitomi gives her sugar-coated spoon a long, languid lick. Your gaze lingers a little too much at the sight. Her pretty lips, glossy and soft, succeed in making you jealous of the utensil. Not to mention that tongue…

Shake your head, as if doing it would clear all the dirty thoughts in it. You swore to yourself a long time ago you would not be one of those fans. They were everywhere, even on a small-scale website like Tumblr. It shocked you to see a blog solely dedicated to writing mature fanfiction about her and her former group members, clear from the username already. Whatever that iznsfw person does is disrespectful and dehumanizing.

Besides, Honda Hitomi is like, off-limits. She’s tiny and lovable and has the softest cheeks in mankind. This is the last girl you should think of as sexy.

“Is it as good as you expected?” you ask. 

Hitomi nods cutely, as if nothing happened. As if she didn’t ignite a heat inside you that won’t go out.. She looks gorgeous underneath all that sunlight. It seems to bounce off her milky skin and make her one of its own rays. 

“I’m so glad you picked the strawberry flavor,” she says, twirling her spoon through the pink ice cream. “Thank you, by the way. Chocolate’s too regular for me, you know? You can get that anywhere.”

“No problem at all. You did say strawberries were your favorite food, right?”

Hitomi looks genuinely touched. The sparkle in her eyes can’t be the cafe lamp’s illusion. She’s probably wondering how the hell you remember that. Even the people around her don’t remember how to spell her name. But it’s simple: you remember because it’s her. 

“Aw, our fans are always so thoughtful,” she gushes. “I didn’t think anyone would know that… I said that in a talk show a million years ago.”

You want to tell her the exact date and MC of the show, but you keep that to yourself. The last thing you want to happen is for your ultimate bias to think you’re just another creepy fan. You swear hand to god that you aren’t; you’re just completely, hopelessly devoted to Hitomi.

Okay, so that doesn’t help your case, but still. You take another bite of your brunch pancakes before speaking again.

“AKB48 days, I think?” you say, playing it off casually.

Hitomi juts her lips out, deep in thought. She shakes her head. “No, it’s actually–” Her eyes grow larger than life, disbelief clear in them. “You’re right! How did you know that?” 

“I meant it when I said I’m your biggest fan.”

Oh, if only she knew that you led the voting fan union when SayMyName was nominated in music shows. Then there’s your drawer full of her photo cards, the posters of her in your room… she pretty much consumed you. She brought so much light to your life that you didn’t know could deviate from gloom.

There’s a saying that goes something like “never meet your heroes.” It’s better to keep them on a pedestal than get your heart broken knowing they’re nothing like you thought. But you’re glad you broke that rule for Hitomi. She’s as radiant as she is on your television. And above all, she’s actually quite easy to talk to. It’s just like talking to your best friend. You ask her about how it felt stepping back into the industry, and she jokes that it’s all an old game to her. 

“I was nervous, of course, but the excitement cancels it out,” she explains. “It’s just work at the end of the day. You get used to doing it.”

The strawberry ice cream melted already into a puddle of pink. Your pancakes are left abandoned on your plate. The two of you don’t mind though. You like listening to Hitomi. And Hitomi loves talking about being an idol. Dancing and singing is something she was born to do.

“It has to feel weird though,” you remark, not quite thinking before you say it out loud. 

Hitomi quirks her lip. “What do you mean?”

“You were in a group with eleven members with a leader to rely on. And now you’re a leader yourself. Doesn’t it get hard sometimes?”

She’s silent for a moment, probably reminiscing like you are. You were there for the golden era of her previous group. For the entirety of it, actually. You can see those little moments flash through her eyes—securing a spot in the lineup, performing during the pandemic, ending it all in a tearful yet high note with her purple hair falling around her hoodie. 

You wonder if she ever felt sad knowing they never got to tour as a group. At their final concert, she spoke to an empty audience, unable to see who was there for her.

“It does,” she murmurs. “In a line of work like this, you’re gonna get tired. You’ll always think if you’re doing the right thing or if you said the wrong thing. And it gets really lonely sometimes.”

Her voice is as fragile as glass. You begin to fear that you’re making her cry. Hell, even you think you’re going to tear up just recalling all of those memories. You’d hate to ruin a bright day like this.

Hitomi, to your surprise, only offers you a satisfied smile. “But god, do I love doing what I do. It makes it all worth it.”

She reaches her hand out to clasp yours. Her touch is soft as a cloud. 

“Thank you,” she says softly. “For always being on my side. I’ll never take it for granted.”

“I-I should be thanking you. I’m serious. You make me so happy just by…” You gesture vaguely, an embarrassed little smile on your face. “You know, dancing and singing onstage. You’ve helped me through a lot of sleepless nights.”

She’ll forever be in your heart and head, one way or another. She stayed there during IZ*ONE when you still had a hard time picking her apart from the other eleven girls. She stayed there during the hiatus, when you struggled finding subtitles for her Japanese shows. And she might as well be a second heartbeat but a first thought now that she’s back in the industry you learned to love because of her.

And she tilts her head, blinking innocently. “What kind of sleepless nights?”

You’re beginning to think something’s very wrong with you. 

Come on, she doesn’t mean any harm or innuendo. She’s just concerned about you, like she is with all of her fans. It’s natural for her to be after having such a vulnerable conversation with you. 

It's certainly inconvenient, though, that the innuendo comes after you’ve been battling thoughts about folding her in half on this table and filling those soft cheeks with something else than ice cream. Just the tiniest physical contact between you and the idol you worship makes you heat up. The way she’s looking at you right now should be a really sweet moment you’d tuck away in your heart and thank the heavens for experiencing. However, it only makes you unable to hold eye contact with her, and drifting your gaze from her face to that tight little body doesn’t help.

“Hitomi…”

She doesn’t have to know what you look at in the night. They’re all photos of her, of course, looking adorable in fansigns and small concerts. But there’s always that one photo sandwiched between wholesome content—something where she’s showing off skin a little more than usual, her gaze piercing through the lens. As if she knew what you were doing.

She’s giving you that exact same look now.

And god, it’s even more dangerous in person. Her head tilts to the side, her eyelashes fanning low. It would look adorable to anyone else. That’s how it should look—her boba eyes are like that of an anime character and she’s so bubbly it’s infectious. 

“It’s alright, oppa,” she says with a playful tinge in her voice. “You don’t have to hide it from me. It just makes me more curious.”

This cannot be fucking happening. Is this a prank? The airconditioned café suddenly feels too warm. You need to get rid of your jacket. You need to get rid of her clothes. You need to taste the ice cream sitting on her bottom lip to quench the thirst in you.

“It really doesn’t matter,” you stutter, searching for a lifeline. Your voice draws thinner with anxiety. “I think you’d be more interested in knowing how many albums I bought just to meet you. Everyone says it’s crazy.”

Hitomi pouts. “But I already know that. My manager said you got twenty copies of all versions.”

“Twenty-six of each, actually. To celebrate your birthday in advance.”

“Then shouldn’t you tell me what you think about in those sleepless nights?” Hitomi leans forward, knowing exactly what that pout does to you. “I always want to give back to my fans, especially when they’re as… big as you are.”

The innocent giggle that follows is just too much. Her cute voice should not entice you like this. This day has taken twists bigger than meeting Hitomi herself. You have no idea what to do.

Are you really going to be cornered by a Japanese girl who’d fit in your pocket? You hate to say that the answer is yes, especially when the girl you’re horribly down bad for is Honda Hitomi.

You shift in your seat. “You’re trying to get me in trouble.”  

She laughs, biting her lip a little. Another obscene fantasy crosses your mind just this second. One of her doing that same expression as she takes that top off, eyes never leaving yours. “Maybe I am, maybe I’m not. But let’s not pretend you don’t want me.”

This would be so much easier if she was wrong—a weight off your shoulders, a lack of a guilty conscience. Nobody should be thinking of a girl like Hitomi like that. It’s exactly why she garners the kind of audience she has. She’s too precious. Miniscule, pretty, a permanent giddy smile glued to her face. It felt wrong to even consider her as someone sexy.

“I wasn’t lying when I said I’m yours for the day,” she says. “So please, do whatever you want to me.”

Then Hitomi spreads her creamy thighs under the table and you realize you actually, truly do not give a fuck about what’s right or wrong. 

-

This has got to be illegal. You didn’t read the terms and conditions, haven’t the slightest idea of what goes and what doesn’t, but you’re pretty fucking sure you should not be taking Hitomi to a hotel.

This whole situation has just been a battle of your morals. Because here’s the thing:

You believe that no label, as big as SM or as small as Hitomi’s, should risk their idol hooking up with a fan. And if this is just elevated fanservice, they should be sued for fortunes. 

Then again, why would you pass up the opportunity? Hitomi initiated this herself after all. 

Still, there should be boundaries. Artists hooking up with their fans is a tale old as time, but that doesn’t make it less wrong. You only know Hitomi from a camera-captured perspective. She’s a celebrity with a reputation at risk. That alone is a good reason for the two of you to call this off.

But Hitomi’s plump ass looks too good in that skirt, and she’s kissing the hesitation out of you before you could speak. 

“God, you’re already so hard,” Hitomi moans against your lips. Her hand cups your bulge through your jeans and you jolt. “Mm. Is this what gets you off, oppa? Getting to fuck me after waiting for so, so long?”

You want to tell her that she shouldn’t say things like that. But the evidence is all there, in the heavy breaths you have to take before kissing each other again, in the way you’re holding her right now. Her waist fits oh-so-perfectly in your hands that you’re pushed to think this was meant to happen.

You lift her up. This still feels like a dream; your head isn’t all there so this could just be some lucid dream. Hitomi’s slim legs wrapped around your hips break the illusion. They feel too soft, too warm to be a dream. Her core presses hotly against your bulge while your fingers explore every unmapped inch of her body. 

“Fuck, Tomi…” You pin her to the door and waste no time. You start devouring her neck, the pressure firm on her skin and your teeth sinking into it. Hitomi’s whiny gasps spur you on. You could record them and work hard to make it another chart-topping song. 

“That’s the plan,” giggles Hitomi, her eyes rolling back. “Come on, oppa. Do what you want to me. Hitomi’s your little fuckdoll for the night.”

The obscenity coming from the mouth of such a cute girl is appalling. It’s the kind that should make you scold her instead of grinding down on her core. Don’t ever say that again, you would tell her, and Hitomi, with her eyes welling up with tears, would meekly say she’s sorry.

That’s how you’d go about this situation if you were a good man.

Here’s the thing, though: she’s corrupting you as much as you’re corrupting her. You’re not a good man. And you think you like it that way, with how good Hitomi’s tight little body feels underneath you.

You take her slim wrists and pin them above her head. All of her is on display now: those perfect shoulders, the smooth flesh of her arms and underarms, the neck you’ve peppered with purple love bites. It’s so easy to manipulate her into submission. She’s so small that it takes zero effort to get her where you want. 

You’re drunk with power. “You promise to do what daddy tells you?” 

“Yes.”

Her vanilla scent is addicting. She looks and smells delectable, and you can’t wait to ruin her. Each part of your body is screaming at you to pounce on her, but you haven’t quite heard what you wanted yet.

“Yes what?”

“Yes, daddy,” whines Hitomi. Her eyes are glassy. You can quite literally feel her body quake with anticipation. It does things to your ego, knowing she wants this as much as you do. 

You’re not thinking straight. All you can process is the carnal, almost dangerous desire you have to ruin her. It’s not even desire anymore. You’ll find that you’ll die if you don’t get to fuck Hitomi. It’s as big a need as food and shelter, right up there on the Maslow hierarchy.

You need to push her legs apart as far as they could go while you fuck her little pussy. 

You need to hear her beg for it even when you’ll give her a good dicking down anyway.

You need to see that innocent little face look corrupted and sinful when it’s painted with your cum.  

That gives you an idea. 

“Get on your knees.”

How many times have you dreamed of doing this? It’s a secret you’ll never admit to anyone, how you’d let your mind wander when you watch fancams of her and notice the eye contact she maintains with the lens. The smile would disappear from her face and be replaced with a sultry look whenever she did a particularly bold choreography, letting the skirt fold up her thighs and the neckline of her blouse hang low. 

You can trace these moments all the way back to the One the Story concert. The lighting was similar in a way to this hotel room, the reds and hues dancing off Hitomi’s slim figure. Even that tiny skirt parallels the one she wore with Minju and Yuri. It hikes up her knees as she slowly descends to the floor. 

It feels like deja vu now. Her years of experience as an idol makes everything seem like effortless choreography. The fabric of her skirt rolls even further up her thighs, showing off her enviable legs. She bites her lip while she unzips your pants. Without having met you before, she has the shape of your body known by heart. Her eyes never leave yours as she frees your aching cock. 

Hitomi lives for the roughness. “Want it so bad, daddy.” She starts to jerk you off, attempting to cover all of your girth with her tiny hand. The sensation is sharp and hot. “Want daddy to feed me his big cock and stick it down my throat. Because I’m his pretty little girl. All yours.”

“All mine.”

She automatically gets what she's supposed to do. She’s made for it, even. Her handjob is professionally done to get each drop of hot cum out of you. Her nimble fingers caress each sensitive spot before she opens her mouth.

The sight of Hitomi sticking her little tongue out to taste you makes you groan. She holds you by the base and coats each inch with her drool. Her lips seal around your shaft, dragging the pleasure out, while she stimulates you with eager swipes of her tongue.

“Love this cock, daddy,” Hitomi moans. She’s basically making out with your dick. Her hot, messy kisses on your tip send electricity bolting throughout your body. “So so big, can’t live without it. How are you gonna fit this inside me later?”

She knows what she's doing. She knows exactly how to rile you up.

You pray for her sake that she’s as good of a fuckdoll as she says, for you take a hold of her Rapunzel locks to push her pretty face further between your legs. Your cock slips past her glossy lips and dents the side of her fluffy cheeks.

It’s so incredibly wrong. She’s too adorable to be fucked like this. She’s the sort of girl you kiss on the forehead and do more wholesome things together, preferably activities that do not involve fucking her innocent face.

You can’t stop now though. Satisfied with the depth, you start off strong with several, rough thrusts into her throat. You hear—feel her fragile gasp around your shaft. It takes you even higher. 

“Come on, take it, Hitomi.” Your thrusts get messier. Her cheeks grow pinker with a deep, satiated blush that no stylist can get from a palette. She just loves to be taken like this, like she was made to service your every need. 

The innocence never quite leaves her eyes despite the facefucking. It’s permanently stitched into her gaze. What ought to make you feel guilty tempts you further. You want to see all the sweetness leave her. You want her to take it.

Hitomi’s hands, having previously shifted nervously on her lap, now return to your body. Her forehead wrinkles slightly at the difficulty of taking you. The impact of your rapid thrusts makes her unable to breathe. Her breaths quickly stagger into nothingness. 

Rather than run from it, she chases the feeling. She wants more of the lightheadedness, the thrill of being owned and used like the toy she promised she was. 

Hence, she works to double the pleasure. Her hands hold your hips for leverage. The little oxygen she can take from her nostrils is blocked when you go in particularly deep. She makes an audible moan (or perhaps a gag? You’re too turned on to differentiate the two), opening her mouth wider and letting you drag your tip across the textured flat of her tongue.

You’re nearly there. You gather Hitomi’s hair into a fisted ponytail, mindlessly fucking her mouth. Your cock never leaves the wet seal of her pretty mouth. Your groans mix with hers. Her tongue keeps licking, her hands keep fondling with your balls, her eyes keep looking up at you with all that ruined sanctity and naivety—

You pull out. Hitomi has the good sense to close her eyes as you cum all over her. The orgasms buzzes and flickers in your veins, a humming within them that grows louder as you realize she’s jerking you off. Her gasps sync loudly with yours.

“Fuck, such a good girl,” you moan. Her grip milks you to sensitivity, rendering your knees buckling and shaking. Your semen seems to come out in endless spurts. 

By the time the adrenaline dies down, you’ve completely painted your ultimate bias’ face with your cum. There’s some in her hair, on the seam of her lip. It drips heavily down her chest as if it were her own sweat.

Hitomi dips her middle finger into the cum that pooled in her collarbone. She tastes it with a coy little giggle. “God, daddy came all over me.”

She doesn’t look like the idol who danced energetically onstage and blew kisses anymore. She looks like your fucktoy, forever tied to your cock and lap. You’ve marked her all over so no one can ever call her theirs. She’s all yours.

Yours…

The thought puts you in a frenzy again. You don’t have to think twice about it. No, you’re not even thinking at all. You grab Hitomi’s feeble body and nearly slam her on the bed. You forget that she’s so small that it isn’t impossible that one bump into her could break her. In fact, it becomes your goal.

You take her clothes off in an instant. The lamp draws attention to the tags on them. God, these must belong to the company, not Hitomi herself. They’ll wonder how the expensive fabric came back stained. They might even punish her.

Whatever. She looks better without them anyway. Your eyes feast upon Hitomi’s slim, tight body. Her abs are composed of angry, structured lines on her flat tummy. And of course, those pink nipples beg for your attention. They stand erect, waiting to be played with.

Your greedy hands claim Hitomi. You pinch her tight nipples, wrenching desperate whines from the column of her throat. Run your hands along those toned thighs and the heated core between them. One finger has her shaking. You rub your fingertip along her wet slit and the forward arches of her body greet you.

“You’re such a bad daddy,” Hitomi whimpers in between heavy, trembling breaths. “Look at what you did to me.”

You do as she says. Observe her glistening pussy, the cum that now drips from her face to her chest. Watch how she craves for your touch more than anything else in the world. She’s a far cry from the beloved K-pop idol with whom you shared a brunch date. 

The arousal is thick in the air. You don’t bother for foreplay. She’s teased you for longer than she should have. This is a golden opportunity you would never dare let go of. 

You swiftly enter her waiting cunt. The reaction you draw from her is priceless. A loud cry is punched out of her, her eyes going doe-wide. You keep your stomach tight to keep from cumming again, cumming too soon. She’s so unbelievably tight. It’s as if her whole body, every nerve and muscle within it, is working together to clench around your erection.

Your strokes drive Hitomi further into the bed. You constantly remind yourself to be careful. Fucking her doesn’t change the fact that she’s your favorite idol. Fucking her doesn’t mean you can destroy the only bed you can afford in Seoul after allotting your funds into her albums. But all these reminders prove to be fruitless. You just keep railing Hitomi, grasping the small of her waist to bury your shaft deeper inside her hole.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” Hitomi surrenders to you completely. She lets you mark her up and tell the world that you own her. She goes as far as to spread her legs wider for you, bearing the sharp, full sensations of your cock destroying her. “God, daddy, I can’t believe you had the balls to fuck me like this. You’re so big inside my little pussy.”

Her words are vulgar when put next to her adorable face. But now the innocence is gone from it. It was gone from the moment she got a feel of your cock. Your mission to destroy it is successful. The sparkle in her eyes is replaced with a deep, crazed hunger for your dick.

The pride in knowing that you did this to her, knowing this isn’t something to be proud of somehow has more blood pumping into your length. You’ve closed your eyes through the unbearable pleasure but the image of Hitomi, with her glazed eyes and marked neck, is burned into your head. You can’t escape her.

Your own moans deafen you, but her voice powers over it. She’ll never tire of reminding you of what you did to her.

“You really are so bad, daddy. Before I met you, I was a good girl who just did her job. I-I danced and sang and did… fuck, everything I can to make people think I’m sweet and innocent. I was doing so good.”

The waves of pleasure aren’t merciful on her. Her frame trembles beneath yours as she struggles to keep up with each big stretch, each large inch.

“But now look at what you did to me,” she cries out in a ragged breath. “You made me into your personal sex slave. I don’t think I can go a day after this without daddy’s fat cock in me. I dunno what to do.”

She consumes you, body and soul. It’s the same on your end. Hitomi and her tight little pussy are all you can think of. 

As her sick, twisted mantra goes on, you become aware of how close you are. The heat climbs up to your neck. Your whole body feels like it’s imprisoned in a cage of hot arousal and sin. You settle a thumb over Hitomi’s pearl and start rubbing frantically, eager to get her over the edge as well.

“Oh fuck, daddy, what will I do if I can’t have your dick inside me? Need to feel your cum filling my womb up every second. I don’t want condoms either. You don’t need to be gentle with me. You can go as hard or as soft as you like because I was made for your cock.”

Your breath hitches. The messy, sloppy sounds of your cock entering her pussy are up to par with the loud sounds Hitomi’s making. She’s wildly bucking into you to meet your thrusts. Those talented hips draw your cock into her with dizzying circles as you hammer into her.

“Mmm, I don’t care what the fans say, daddy. Not even the company. You can cum inside me anytime, fuck me wherever you want… I want to feel you breed me. You can paint me with your cum before every stage and the fans wouldn’t even know I have your baby inside me. But they don’t have to… right, daddy? We can keep this between you and me, between daddy and his good little girl—”

With a final, feral shout, you thrust as deep as you can and bring her desires to reality. The orgasmic pulses of her walls squeeze the ropes of semen out of you. They spill into her fertile womb like a waterfall. Her screams are melodic background music to it all.

You lay your head on top of Hitomi’s chest, panting for life. Her dripping pussy warms you as you go soft once more. You never thought it could happen. It seemed an unlikely scenario, with how hard Hitomi’s worked for her orgasm, how she’s clinging onto you right now.

You forgot about the idea of unlikely scenarios a long time ago. While there was a time you thought this pornographic fanservice was only a dream, you’d argue you’re doing her a good favor as well. You’ve never seen her in such a state of bliss. 

“Dad married mom when he was almost forty, didn’t he? I still have a long way to g-” 

“That was different! Society’s changed!” Nayeon shot you a judgemental look.

“Are you serious right now, noona?”

“Yes, really!” your sister crossed her arms, almost offended that you’d asked. “Our country’s birthrate is in crisis. You have to do your part.”

“My part!?” 

“Yes. As a citizen. As our parents’ son.” she pointed at you. “Tall, educated, healthy, financially stable and ugh… I can’t believe I’m saying this…”

“Saying what?”

“Good looks… ughh…” 

It was always good to hear someone who always bullied you since you were little admit that. The stupid smirk on your face showed it really well, especially with how Nayeon was faking, or not, a puking sound.

“Stop doing that! And what are you even waiting for, idiot!?”

“I founded this company, didn’t I?” your turn to roll your eyes. “I…uh, pay taxes. I already did my part.”

She scoffed and sat straighter. “Taxes and high-end clothes don’t get you a wife, idiot.” 

A comeback was already there in your mind. But the look in her eyes stopped you, not annoyed or amused, just tired. She looked down at her hands for a quiet moment before speaking again, her voice filled with what seemed like artificial sadness to you.

“Mom and dad aren’t getting any younger… They are almost getting to the age where we have more hospital checkups than family gatherings. Don’t you realize that?”

“Don’t do that to me… Come on…”

“You’ve never introduced a single girlfriend to us. Not once.” Here came the sad eyes. “Your cousins are having babies, getting married… Everything, even showing up at Chuseok with rings on their fingers and someone beside them. But you!?… you work day and night. For what?”

“It’s just…” You rubbed a hand over your face and sighed. It wasn’t like you hadn’t thought about this before. “I haven’t dated anyone in a long time, noona.”

“And why is that?” Nayeon asked gently, part anticipating like a sister who was finally hearing something she’d waited a long time to understand.

“I don’t know… I guess I just got comfortable living like this. Letting someone into my life right now doesn’t feel right.”

Your sister stayed silent, and when she spoke, her voice was softer than before.

“...That’s not comfort. You're just used to being alone.”

You looked up slowly, knowing she wasn’t scolding.

“I’m not asking you to fall in love tomorrow. But open the door, at least… Just enough for someone to come in.”

You hummed at her words, not intending on discussing this topic further.

“Anyway...” Nayeon smoothened her scarf, exhaling as if she was letting out all her frustrations and worries. “I didn’t just come here to nag your hopeless ass, you know. I came to bring something for Yoon-Ah.”

“For her? Not your brother?”

“You?” she smirked. “You can take care of yourself. You’re a grown man.”

Like always, Nayeon didn’t even wait for your answer. Instead, she reached for a paper bag beside her legs, lifting it carefully and showed you like it was some prized offerings. 

“Some premium ginseng extract and a few tonic packets from that clinic in Cheongdam. You know, that one all the chaebol wives and mistresses go to? Some black sesame snacks too. Good for stamina and stress.”

“For Yoon-Ah? Really?” you asked again.

“Of course! She mentioned she’s been tired since you made her work too much.” she glared at you, that one look only a sister could give. “I should scold you more for that, you idiot.”

A helpless chuckle escaped your lips.

“She insists on staying late! I drive her home everytime I can.”

…

“So are you two…?” your sister trailed off, narrowing her eyes as she tried to dig for some clues, subtle but sharp.

“Are we… what?” 

Lips pursuing, Nayeon examined you like she could read something off your face like she’d always done back when you were in high school. Well, not anymore. Years had gone by and you’d learnt to adapt. Knowing she couldn’t win this, she simply leaned back on the leather soft with a sigh. 

“I’m just saying… you two seem close. Maybe too comfortable with each other…. And your stupid face lights up whenever you talk about her.”

As much as you hated to admit, you knew Nayeon was right. So you just rubbed the back of your neck and avoided your sister’s gaze. But before she could press further, a soft chime came up from the intercom on your desk.

“Sajang-nim... may I come in?” 

That warm and familiar voice filtered through the speaker, the one that always gave you extra motivation when you sat down on this desk every workday.

You cleared your throat. 

“...Ahem, come in, secretary Seol.” 

The door creaked open, and there she was, your favorite person in this entire building. 

She stepped inside with her usual grace, her simple stripe button up blouse was tucked neatly, like it was tailored specifically to fit her frame. Her hair is pulled back into a neat ponytail, all smooth and polished. You never said it out loud, but your days always felt a little bit better when she wore her hair like that. Around her neck hangs a simple lanyard with her ID, one that you'd told her a few times looked to formal, but Yoon-Ah'd just smile and say “It makes me look professional, don’t you think, sajang-nim?”.

“Good morning, sajang-nim…” she turned gracefully and gave a playful yet somehow still very polite little bow at Nayeon. “Unnie.”

You nodded in acknowledgement a little too fast while your sister instantly smiled, sitting more up right on the sofa.

“Oh my!” visibly brightened, Nayeon’s tone turned affectionate. “You’ve gotten even more elegant in person, Yoon-Ah ah! How have you been, honey? Come here!”

Yoon-Ah settled gracefully beside your sister on the sofa, tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear, her posture was elegant yet unassuming. Your sister reached for her hand instantly.

“Look at you, so beautiful!! Are you sure you’re not secretly royalty!?”

Yoon-Ah laughed softly, cheeks tinting pink. “You flatter me too much, unnie.”

“Nonsense.” your sister pat her hand. “You’re so polite, mmm, well put together… What do you think about my brother? Is he good looking?”

The girl was only caught off guard for a second before regaining her composure instantly and smiled. “Sajang-nim certainly is very… charismatic.”

You would’ve been giggling like a middle schooler had there been no one right here with how Yoon-Ah answered it.

“Charismatic, hmm? Not handsome?” Nayeon leaned closer to her, eyes expecting. Yoon-Ah gave you a subtle glance, unreadable, before replying. 

“That too. He has… his own charms.”

“Did you hear that!? ‘His own charms’. Yoon-Ah just said you’re just barely tolerable, dipshit.”

“Shut up…”

Nayeon just waved you off with a smile and turned back to Yoon-Ah. 

“Honestly, though. You’re so composed and smart, and beautiful on top of that. I don’t know how my brother landed a secretary like you, honey.”

Yoon-Ah chuckled lightly, her gaze lowering as if that could hide the light pink blooming on her cheeks. “He didn’t, unnie. I just applied.”

“Right, right… Whatever fate brought you two together, I’m grateful. You brighten his life up just by being by his side.”

Somewhere between their conversation, you got lost with how ethereal Yoon-Ah looked. Something about the way the sunlight caught the curve of her cheeks, the way her hair framed her face, the softness in her deer eyes. It ached your heart so much… in a good way, of course. You imagined her beside you, but not in the office. Maybe somewhere quieter, warmer, with her head on your shoulder… 

“Yah.” Nayeon’s voice snapped you back to reality immediately. You blinked, eyes adjusting again to the sunlight in the room. Yoon-Ah was still sitting on the sofa with the same pretty smile and graceful posture. The little dream was gone, but it lingered tenderly in your mind.

“What were you saying, noona?”

“Nothing important. I’m leaving now, dummy.” She then stood up with a pleasant sigh, smoothing her jacket as she showered Yoon-Ah with all the warmth in her eyes. “Don’t work too hard, honey. Thank you for keeping my idiot brother in line.”

“Of course, unnie. Thank you for visiting.”

Your sister leaned in, patting her lightly on the arm.

“Don’t act too polite with me. And don’t let him work too hard, okay? Ah, right! Next time, come visit me at our house even without him around.”

You only watched the exchange quietly, heart still beating a little too fast from the daydream you hadn’t meant to fall into. 

“Take care then, noona.”

“I always do. Maybe you should listen to yourself.” Nayeon paused at the door for a moment. “...Especially with Yoon-Ah around.”

The room fell quiet again the moment Nayeon took all the noise with her as she left. Then you looked at Yoon-ah as she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, again, still looking like the girl from your imagination.

What the hell am I going to do with these feelings?

“Are you okay, sajang-nim?” 

“Sure, nothing… I just spaced out.”

Yoon-Ah tilted her head slightly, the corner of her mouth lifting. 

“You looked like you were thinking very hard about something.” As innocent as her voice sounded, you could still catch the tease under her tone. You tried to keep your expression neutral.

“Nothing important, secretary Seol.” 

“Mmm.” she hummed, unconvinced. “It didn’t seem like nothing to me, sajang-nim.”

You shifted in your seat. “My sister likes you, that’s all.”

“Ah… She’s very sweet but I’m guessing that’s not the part that made you zone out.”

Playing dumb wouldn’t get you out of this. Time to take back control.

“Alright… let’s just get to business. What did you come in here for?” 

Yoon-Ah nodded with a satisfied smile, effortlessly shifting into her professional mode at your question. 

“It’s Friday so there isn’t much on the schedule. You have two meetings to review the new releases. Then just a short stop this afternoon at the aespa shoot. You’re supposed to hand Karina-ssi a bouquet and take a photo with her.” 

“Really?” your tone raised a little out of surprise. “I thought they were joking, no?”

“The team insisted.” The corner of her lips curved lightly. “Basic PR duties, sajang-nim.”

“I’m not complaining. It’s not every day that I get to take a picture with Karina anyway. And after that, I’m done?”

“Barring any emergencies.” she checked on the tablet again before looking up at you, though the way she said it felt more than just an observation. “You’ve been working too much lately anyway, sajang-nim. You’re… surprisingly efficient.” 

“‘Surprisingly’? You’ve been with me for three years, since the start of this company and ‘surprisingly’?”

Yoon-Ah pressed her lips together lightly, not the least apologetic. “Just keeping you humble, sajang-nim.”

“...You’re getting bolder.” 

“Maybe I am, sajang-nim.” she shot back instantly. “Or maybe you’re getting softer.”

A quiet beat took over for a second, something a little warmer settled into the room.

…

“Why do you still refuse to call me oppa, Seol Yoon-Ah?” there it was again, the question you always brought up every now and then. “I mean… calling me by my name is also fine by me. It’s not like we are strangers, you know. I gave you permission a long time ago.”

She smiled, definitely not letting you have the smallest glimpse of what she was thinking.

“We have to be professional, sajang-nim.” she said, emphasizing the title to put distance between the two of you, though her tone did the complete opposite. Then she added a soft, teasing line. “Besides… you’d get too happy if I called you oppa. And I’m not here to feed your ego, sajang-nim. I’m here to help you be more efficient and manage your schedule.”

She looked back down at her iPad, the twitch on the corner of her lips signaled a quiet victory. 

Not so early.

The thought barely settled before you stood up, rounding your desk slowly. Yoon-Ah didn’t look up right away but you saw her finger pausing over the screen as she felt you closing the distance. You stopped in front of her, letting your presence linger just enough to make her glance up.

“Then what about that night…?” you smirked. “You got so drunk I really struggled to drive you home and helped you upstairs… and you kept mumbling ‘oppa’ against my chest, secretary Seol.”

Her eyes widened, lashes fluttered just once and that was enough to tell you she knew exactly what night you were talking about. The memory hit her hard before she could guard herself.

“If I recall correctly… You kept biting my hands, crying and complaining that I don’t give you enough attention at work, secretary Seol”

For once, your intelligent secretary couldn’t come up with a comeback as a flush crept into her cheeks and her grip on the tablet tightened. 

“That’s a little too much, secretary Seol. We might have to get HR involved.” Then you leaned in closer, slower to lower yourself beside her ear until she could hear your whisper, a near perfect imitation of Yoon-Ah’s voice, with a smirk. 

“Don’t leave me yet, oppa… please…”

Then you lifted your hand and gently clasped her wrist, startling her.

“You held on to it like this and wouldn’t let go.”

Yoon-Ah’s eyes moved to where your hand grabbed her wrist. She definitely remembered. The ever professional secretary was thrown off balance, blinking like she couldn’t decide whether to pull away or freeze. 

“Still no thank you from you yet,  by the way. It’s been almost two months now.”

The engine was clearly working overtime through her eyes, calculating to come back with something sharp and clever while being flustered, exposed at the same time. Damn, what a cute sight.

“What’s wrong? Cat got your tongue? Or did oppa make too much of an impression saving you that night?”

Yoon-Ah yanked her wrist back like your touch burned her. But you already did too much damage. She was blushing, her posture stiff and her mouth open but couldn’t find the right words.

“Sajang-nim.” she finally muttered, eyebrows drawn tightly together. She turned her head sideways to hide the rising color in her cheeks. .

“Still waiting on that ‘thank you’~” you leaned back to let the tension breathe, enjoying this way more than you should. “You’re usually quicker than this, Yoon-Ah-ssi.”

“Thank you, sajang-nim.” Yoon-Ah finally muttered like it physically hurt her pride to say it.

“Just that?” you titled your head. “You think that’s enough after everything I went through, secretary Seol?”

Only now did she glance up, sharply. “Do you want an award ceremony, sajang-nim?”

“Interest. That’s all. The economy’s been rough lately.” 

Yoon-Ah narrowed her eyes but couldn’t hold back the smile forming on her lips.

“What kind of interest are we talking about here?”

“Maybe… uhh, I don’t know…” you looked up to the ceiling, pretending to think. “A kiss on the cheek should cover the fee, secretary Seol.”

Her scoff was immediate but the amusement in her eyes betrayed her.

“Is that how you do business now? Bullying your way through outstanding debts.”

“Only with clients who get drunk and call me oppa while they almost vomit on me.”

Yoon-Ah stared at you harder, the red on her cheeks didn’t help much. “You’re lucky I haven’t reported that night to anyone, sajang-nim!”

“Ah… but I only helped you home that night. And confessing that to HR would mean creating a workplace scandal right here.”

No power or threat in her glare as Yoon-Ah leaned closer. If anything, you only found it cute.

“Keep pushing it and I’m writing a full report, sajang-nim.”

Your answer was to lean down closer, forehead almost touching hers.

“Make sure to include the part where you begged me to drink with you too, secretary Seol.”

A slight twitch on the corner of her eyes, maybe a mix of annoyance and amusement. 

“One day… I’m going to put you in your place, sajang-nim.”

“I’m counting on it. But for now… cheek?”

The stare she threw at you was long enough for her to weigh her options. Finally, Yoon-Ah let out a long exhale, the sign of resignation.

“Close your eyes, sajang-nim.”

“Why?”

“You wouldn’t want to peek during an award ceremony, would you?” her voice filled with sudden happiness.

Though a little suspicious, you obliged and shut your eyes with a sigh. “Fine…”

A few seconds went by, still nothing. Just before you were about to say something, you felt a light brush of her lips land just shy of your lips, barely a kiss. You opened one eye to glare at her, your tone completely flat.

“That was nothing. Literally air.”

 Your secretary was already retreating, trying not to laugh and clearly enjoying teasing you.

“It still counts, sajang-nim. The ceremony's over!”

“No, no, no.” you reached out and grabbed her wrist, firm but not enough to hurt her. “Secretary Seol, I demand a kiss.”

“Sajang-nimmm~” Yoon-Ah whined, the sound almost turning your knees into spaghetti. She gave your grip a half hearted tug but didn’t really try to escape. She still didn’t give up on suppressing a smile though she clearly knew she was failing miserably. 

“You’re abusing your power~” she pouted, too cute. 

“Aegyo won’t let you get away with this, secretary Seol.”

You tried so hard not to look away for a second. Seol Yoon-Ah was a dangerous woman. She really had no idea what she was doing to you. Or maybe she did. Who knew? She then scrunched her nose and stuck out her tongue to you - a final act of rebellion before stepping even closer, eyes lifting to meet yours.

“Fine.” she mumbled. “One real kiss.”

“That easy…?”

“I just want you to shut up, sajang-nim.” 

You let go of her wrist only to take both of them seconds later deliberately. Yoon-Ah blinked, your grip was firm as your thumbs brushed the inside of her wrists. 

“In case you try to escape. I’m not taking an ‘air’ kiss this time, secretary Seol.”

Suddenly, a flicker of confidence and mischief lit up her face. The corner of her lips curled up, slow and dangerous.

“Close your eyes then, sajang-nim.”

That smug expression on her face left you with no choice anyway. You sighed and shut your eyes again, expecting. You could feel Yoon-Ah tiptoeing slightly, her gentle inhale, the little rustle of her clothes before her lips finally pressed against your cheek. 

No more teasing. Yoon-Ah kissed your cheek long and firm, her lips molding onto your skin with a boldness that stole your breath away. You felt the way she tilted her head slightly, swaying into the kiss like she meant every second of it. You wanted more, so much more. But-

“Muah!”

She pulled away. Your skin was now warm with her lipstick stamped there like her branding. When you opened your eyes, Yoon-Ah was still too close.

“How about that, oppa~?” she murmured, voice a little breathless.

You tried and held onto her gaze, almost failing to act unaffected. Slowly, you let go of her wrists, your fingers intentionally lingering on before slipping away completely.

“Not bad.” you tried to sound confident.

A shy blush bloomed across her face with a nervous smile to replace her confidence just seconds ago. You then cleared your throat, subtle but necessary, before nodding at the leather sofa and nodding your chin in its.

“Ahem… There are some ginseng extracts, a few tonic packets and uh… some black sesame snacks in that bag over there. My sister brought it over for you.” you said, walking to it. “From that clinic in Cheongdam, you know?”

You picked up the bag and held it out to her. Yoon-Ah followed you, cheeks still pink from earlier and took the bag slowly.

“Ah… that one clinic all the rich people’s wives and mistresses go to?” she said, her voice a little soft and flustered. “Your sister told me a lot about it, sajang-nim. We chat a lot, actually.”

“Since when?”

Yoon-Ah gave you a judging look, almost surprised that you even asked. “Umm… since forever? She texts me all the time and asks about you, your dating life… us…”

“And you tell her I make you work too much? If anything, I make you work less and come home early these days.”

Yoon-Ah pretended to let out a small cough to dodge your question, eyes looking at the clock on the wall as she avoided your gaze. “A- Anyway… it’s almost time for your meeting this morning, sajang-nim.”

“...I’ll let it slide this time, secretary Seol.”

Dragging your feet back to your desk with a sigh, you shifted through the clutter of documents on your desk while ignoring the warmth on your skin but paused when you noticed your secretary lingering around before walking toward you. 

“Wait, sajang-nim...” she spoke softly. “You still have my lipstick mark on… your cheek.”

You stayed still as she pulled a tissue from the little box on the desk and reached up, dabbing at the spot with what seemed like precision. Though you couldn’t help but think there was a bit of affection in there as well, you’d been hoping so for so long anyway.

“Reapply your lipsticks, too, secretary Seol.” you continued to search through the documents, not looking at her. “I’ll… ahem, wait.”

Yoon-Ah lowered her head into a small bow. The results of all that messing around a few minutes ago was still clear on her face.

“Ah, yes… thank you, sajang-nim.”

The morning room passed, dreadfully, with what felt like thousands of updates and reviews. You sat at the head of the sleek conference room, listening to everything with Yoon-Ah next to you, taking notes with her usual precision. 

Three years ago, you left one of the biggest names in Korea’s fashion game as their rising creative director - young, bold, and already successful. People thought you were crazy, even your parents stopped you at first. But you took a gamble anyway, at the age of thirty. Now? You were running your own fashion company, still rising, not quite a household name yet but you’d come far. People loved it, you had your own team and your own building in Hannam-dong, the land of the rich right in Seoul.

Somewhere in the middle of the meeting, your eyes turned to Yoon-Ah by themselves.

-

You still remembered being struck by her beauty the day she first walked in for the interview, back when this company was just your dream and a cheap nameplate taped to a rented shoebox in Itaewon. She had been fresh out of university then, too nervous, clutching her portfolio with both hands like it might save her and land her the job as she walked in.

“Why’d you apply here, honestly? I mean… aren’t you scared this might be a… I don’t know, money laundering scheme. This company has nothing right now, Yoon-Ah-ssi.”

She let out a tiny, nervous laugh.

“I… um… I looked you up before I applied.” she answered too fast, glancing down a little like she regretted blurting it out. “I- I read about your work. The collection you helped develop at your pre- previous company… the 2019 one.”

You didn’t say anything and let her go on for another five  minutes. Yoon-Ah fumbled a little more, both endearing and awkwardly. It’d been in your memory ever since, and you loved it whenever she went to work in the same outfit. Something about it always pulled you back to your first meeting, to the shy but clearly talented Yoon-Ah.

-

From that day on, the two of you built more than just your company together. You taught her a lot, from dealing with fashion related problems, difficult clients to how to be more aggressive in business. Yoon-Ah picked up everything fast. You knew she was smarter but she’d been outdoing your expectations after her first few weeks, always delivering more than what was asked. Still, no matter how much time passed or how confident she appeared with others, Yoon-Ah always carried a trace of that shyness when she was around you. 

However, in recent months, things had shifted. A slow, complicated push and pull neither of you wanted to define out loud. Late night conversations in the office. Lingering glances everywhere you went. Her being mad at you for forgetting her gift after a business trip in Japan, only for her to bring you coffee the next morning, made just the way you liked it with a flirty smile that you couldn’t stop dreaming about. 

Yoon-Ah started standing closer and leaning in more. You both intentionally stuck by each other’s side in the elevator whenever it was empty. And you’d started driving her home every day from work too, a quiet routine that had begun just a few months ago. Still, Seol Yoon-Ah always knew exactly when to draw a line, when to turn her head away to remind you that she was still your secretary. But… the kiss on the cheek she gave you this morning was a great leap forward. And you wanted more. So much more.

“Sajang-nim.” her voice broke your trance of thoughts, soft but pointed. “Umm… you were spacing out, sajang-nim. They’ve just finished the presentation.”

You sat up straighter, coughed lightly and picked up where she left off. Another meeting followed. When it finally ended and most of the team had filtered out quickly for lunch, you returned to your office and collapsed immediately on the leather sofa. Yoon-Ah walked in later carrying a small tray. She calmly set everything down on the coffee table before taking her seat next to you.

“Lunch before meeting the Karina, sajang-nim.” Yoon-Ah unwrapped the utensils and handed over yours without looking.

“Ughh… finally. Karina~” you sang with exaggerated joy and dragged yourself upright. 

“Aghh…” Yoon-Ah suddenly whined as she peeled off the lid of her lunch box, poking at a neatly packed pile of green vegetables. “Again~? They always forget I hate these…”

Seizing the chance, you immediately leaned to her side with your mouth open. “Ahh~”

Yoon-Ah froze with her chopsticks in hand, staring at you before her lips twitched into a smile.

“You’re weird sometimes, sajang-nim. It doesn't feel right on you”

You didn’t move, just tilted your head and widened your eyes in the most obnoxiously innocent expression you could ever make. Her cheeks were already pink as she picked up a piece of broccoli and fed you hesitantly. 

“This better not become an everyday thing.” Yoon-Ah looked away the second you started chewing, muttering.

You swallowed, still smug. “I might have to make this a real clause when we discuss your renewal contract, secretary Seol.”

Yoon-Ah scoffed under her breath but the pink on her cheeks deepened. 

“I’m writing a report to HR next Monday.”

You nudged her knee. She picked up another piece of green and held it out silently. You leaned in with no hesitation and took it with a happy hum.

“...You’re enjoying this too much, sajang-nim.” Yoon-ah said, picking up another piece.

“You’re lucky I’m is a good eater.” you mumbled, earning a gentle hit of her elbow on your shoulder.

This went on quietly, rhythmically. Yoon-Ah feeding you vegetables, you chewing with exaggerated joy, her pretending not to smile as she emptied every last piece of green from her lunch box into your mouth. By the end, the only thing left was that smile she was struggling to hide on her lips.

The city rolled past outside the tinted windows of your car, sunlight bouncing off the glass. You had one hand on the steering wheel, the other rested lazily near the gearshift. Yoon-Ah was puffing her cheeks in and out, scrolling through something on her phone.

“Okay. Balance game.”

“Listening.”

“Have chaebol level wealth and power… or stay exactly as you are right now. Same wealth, same power?”

“Really? Didn’t you ask me something similar before?”

This was something you two usually did whenever the ride got too boring. She still didn’t look up from her phone, voice singing. “Answer~”

“Umm… stay as I am now.” You tapped your fingers on the steering wheel and that made her glance at you.

“You’re passing on generational wealth and the power to boss the president around?”

“I mean, chaebol level wealth and power mean I’d have to work pretty much every day. Get in a scandal every few years, get involved in political stuff… and basically no freedom to do what I want in public. Sometimes spend a few months in jail waiting to get pardoned… So it's not worth it.”

Yoon-Ah tilted her head and hummed. “Mmm, interesting.”

“I mean… I have money now, don’t I? I won’t even get to spend all of it before I die. That kind of wealth doesn’t really mean much to me.”

Yoon-Ah leaned back against the headrest, thinking for a moment before asking again.

“So when do you plan to settle down, sajang-nim?” Her tone was definitely not meaningless.

“Why the sudden topic? Are you planning to recommend someone to me, secretary Seol?”

Yoon-Ah let out a soft scoff. “Do you even have a girlfriend right now?”

And there it was, a quiet check. To see if you had one. To see if that romantic tension between all these times was genuine. You knew… well, you guessed it.

“Obviously not. Why do you think my sister keeps coming over to nag me every week?”

“Your sister just wants you to be happy, I guess.”

You finally took your eyes off the road and glanced over at Yoon-Ah for a brief second, catching how she bit back a smile. 

“Okay, secretary Seol. My turn.”

That got her attention, eyes turning back to you. 

“Men your age… ” you paused, speaking again only when it felt right. “Or… let’s just say, men… in their early thirties?”

You didn’t even try to hide what you meant. 

“Why, sajang-nim? Asking for a friend?” That flicker of amusement beneath her expression showed you she knew exactly what you meant. She let the question hang for a moment too long, lips still curved. “Early thirties, I think. More stable. More… mature. But of course, that’s assuming we don’t work together. I don’t have any interest in dating people from work, really.”

And there it was again. The line Seol Yoon-Ah always drew. Not too close. Not too far. You let out a breath through your nose as the silence stretched, feeling a quiet little ache in your heart. Yoon-Ah knew the effect she had on you, always teasing you just enough and staying just far enough.

“Mmm… Got it.” you finally muttered, not wanting to be heard. Ten minutes later, you pulled up at the studio parking lot. From the passenger seat, Yoon-Ah glanced at her phone then at the building. 

“They’re in the middle of the shoot.” 

You reached behind your seat, grabbed the bouquet meant for Karina - wrapped to perfection, all PR polished - and stepped out, the car door shutting behind you with a soft thud. You circled around to her side and opened the door. 

“What kind of boss drives his secretary around and opens the door for her, sajang-nim?”

Again, that playful tendency of hers. You replied flatly, still a bit hurt from your last interaction in the car.

“The really good kind. The handsome kind. The caring kind.”

Yoon-Ah laughed gently, tilting her head as she stepped out. “Mmm~ Must be exhausting being all three.”

You didn’t smile. “It’s worth it. If someone eventually notices.”

“You should save that line for Karina, sajang-nim.” she said and smoothed down the front of her skirt, voice a little softer than before. “She’s the one getting the flower, after all.”

Wasn’t a jab, not really. Under that teasing edge, there was something else, something unspoken. You looked at her to try and catch it but it was too late, Yoon-Ah was already stepping past you and walking toward the studio entrance like nothing had happened. You adjusted your grip on the bouquet and followed.

The studio door shut behind you with a loud click, muffling the city noise outside. Inside, everything was bright, cinematic. Spotlights humming, stylists moving quickly, racks of clothing everywhere. You and Yoon-Ah walked past the staff, bowing and greeting. They led you near the center and there she was.

aespa’s Karina

She was kneeling in front of the green screen, her unique plaid dress hugged her perfectly at the waist. Her hair was sleek, falling down in front of one shoulder leaving the other bare. A leather jacket was slipping down her arms. Everything she wore just looked so effortlessly beautiful and expensive.

“We just started twenty minutes ago, sajang-nim. Sorry for making you wait like this.” a staff member spoke up.

“Ahh, no... It’s okay. Don’t worry about it. You guys are working hard.”

The camera shuttered again. Karina shifted to lie on her stomach, legs in the air, the dress riding up just slightly as she propped her chin on her hand. The pose looked casual but you knew how precise every tilt of her head was. She looked great in everything.

“Cut!” the photographer said out loud. “That’s beautiful, everyone! Let’s take a break and reset the lighting for the next setup.”

Karina pushed herself up slowly, movements pretty even off camera as she soon moved with her team to her waiting room. You and Yoon-Ah followed a staff member there but stopped almost instantly when you got there. That moment, you suddenly felt Yoon-Ah’s intense turning to you from the side, sharp and intense, but she stayed silent. 

The moment you got to Karina’s waiting room, her eyes almost twitched into an eye smile as she saw you, like she hadn’t expected to see you today but was definitely glad you came. Then it was gone as she quickly blinked and turned to her staff member to say something about her makeup. Next to you, Yoon-Ah shifted her weight and crossed her arms.

“You’re staring...”

“What?”

“I said…” her tone got low. “I said you’re staring, sajang-nim.”

"No, I'm not." you raised an eyebrow, confused.

"Yes, you were."

"Okay...? I'm gonna go say hi to her then."

Karina’s gaze flicked to as you approached, her expression turned softer before flashing you a gentle smile.

“Hi, Karina-ssi.” you bowed politely, extending the bouquet toward her with both hands. 

“Ah- hi, sajang-nim.” she smiled brightly, standing up quickly to bow back. “It’s really great to see you here today.”

“You’ve been working so hard. I honestly still can’t believe our company landed a deal with you.”

“No, no. It’s really my honour. Thank you so much, sajang-nim.” she smiled looking down at the bouquet, cheeks dusted with light pink. “But I think your clothing just makes me look good, sajang-nim. I really love your designs.”

“No, really. You look really beautiful, like AI. It’s… uh, I can't even describe, honestly.”

Karina laughed quietly as she swayed side to side slightly.  “You shouldn’t say things like that so casually, sajang-nim.”

“I’m only just saying the truth, Karina-ssi.”

The two of you fell into an easy conversation like always as the staff stepped out one by one. You were no strangers to each other, having talked a few times before at some events before she modeled for your company. 

“I’m actually a big fan of aespa.” you admitted shyly. “Have been for a while.”

Karina lit up, genuine as she tiptoed slightly at the mention of it. “Really?”

What started as casual pleasantries stretched out into a few minutes of relaxed, uninterrupted talking. She laughed when you made dumb jokes, you smiled when she said the jacket you designed actually made her feel cooler than she actually was. 

In the middle of it, Karina’s eyes flicked around the room subtly and the remaining of her staff spread out naturally. You were slightly confused at first with how silent the room’d turned but still concentrated on Karina as she stepped closer, her voice dropping so low to make sure that only you could hear. She gently tiptoed up, her perfume finally arrived at your nose.

From a small distance, a certain someone was watching. Yoon-Ah stood just far enough not to hear a word but close enough to see everything. The way Karina smiled up at you, the way you looked back - relaxed, flattered and warm. The way she suddenly handed you her phone so suddenly for some reason. Your secretary didn't move and just stood there, rooted to the floor with fists clenched slightly tigher than usual that her knuckles almost went white. And Karina hadn’t even crossed any lines. She wasn’t being arrogant. She was sweet, polite, even shy. 

She wasn't jealous. No, you and Yoon-Ah weren't a thing. But why did it feel like she was being left behind? She wondered if this was her fault for pulling you in just close enough to only push you away whenever she wanted to? Were you trying to get back at her for what’d happened in the car? That's the first pay back she'd seen from you, ever since this whole 'thing' started. And maybe it affected her more than she'd ever admitted.

Whatever it was, she absolutely despised it. You, obviously, had no idea what Yoon-Ah was thinking, or that she was even looking. You were still dazed, trying to process reality. Now, Yoon-Ah’d had enough. She tried to wait for the heat in her chest to settle, her nails dug crescent moons into her palm but her expressions stayed calm. With steady steps, she approached, heels clicking softly against the studio floor. 

“Photos together for our social media, sajang-nim.”

You turned at the sound of her voice, startled. Karina straightened too, her smile still lingering but a teeny bit more cautious now. Yoon-Ah didn’t even glance at Karina. Her eyes were only on you. And her smile? Impeccable. Cold.

There was a distinct shift in the air, one only Yoon-Ah seemed to feel. Karina stood a little too close to you during the photos, her arm brushing yours once or twice. She laughed softly as she posed with the bouquet you’d given her earlier. Every moment made Yoon-Ah’s inside burn even more with something strange she refused to admit.

Karina eventually returned to her photoshoot, her gaze drifting toward you a few more times before the set moved on. You and Yoon-Ah stayed about thirty minutes longer, exchanging a few words with staff, pretending nothing had shifted. When it was time to leave, Yoon-Ah didn’t wait for you like she always did. She instantly turned and marched outside toward the car without a word, heels clicking furiously against the ground. You watched her from behind, already putting the pieces together in your head.

She reached the car first and didn’t wait for you to open the door for her like usual. Nope, she wasn’t that patient now. Instead, she yanked the door open herself and climbed in, slamming it shut with enough force to make someone passing by flinched. You sighed quietly and walked to the car with a smile. Slipping into the driver’s seat, you shut the door with far less drama than she had. The engine hummed to life, but for a moment, you didn’t even touch the steering wheel. 

“You okay?”

Her arms were crossed, eyes fixed stubbornly out the window. Her silence said more than words could. You let the question hang there and stop a small laugh that was threatening to escape your lips.

“You look cute when you’re jealous.”

“I believe our schedule for the day is done, sajang-nim. Please drive me home.”

That made you smile wider, tilting your head just slightly so that you could annoy her a little more. Never too late for a little revenge.

“Please take me home, sajang-nim. Thank you.” she repeated, this time with even her tone lower and sharper.

“Yes, ma’am.”

You kept your eyes on the road at first, but you couldn’t help but smile just a little. Your grip on the steering wheel loosened as the pieces fell in place. You glanced sideways before looking ahead again. Maybe you’d understood part of the answer to the question you’d been asking yourself all these months:

What’s wrong with secretary Seol?

But in the months until she went to college she would have to live with her uncle Dennis as her father and his new wife wanted to go travelling and didn't want to leave her home alone for three months. Iroha would actually have preferred that, but her opinion hadn't been taken into consideration so now she was stuck in the middle of nowhere with her uncle whom she knew almost nothing about.

Her dad John helped her get all of her bags from the trunk of the car and walked up the faded porch to the front door with her. Whilst Iroha's relationship to her dad had been loving and caring when her mom was still alive, it had grown a lot colder since her death. Especially since his marriage to Iroha's stepmom Michelle, who was only 9 years older than Iroha was now, she felt like she didn't quite belong in her own family anymore.

Now they just exchanged a quick goodbye once her dad had thanked his brother again for taking care of this for him, and she felt like there was a silent conversation happening between the two that she couldn't make sense of.

Only when her dad had gone back to his car and driven away did Dennis actually acknowledge her. Instead of shaking her hand, which she offered to him he leant in to hug her close to him. He was a tall man, towering over Iroha's short 5'2" by at least a foot as he pressed her petite form against his muscular one. That did make Iroha slightly uncomfortable, after all she hadn't seen him in years and they had never been close. However she didn't say anything and thought that when she would live with him for months, she probably had to be okay being hugged by him.

"Been a while since I last saw you, sweetheart. You've grown up into such a beauty!" he said, smiling in a friendly way but his gaze kept moving to her chest. Iroha knew she was pretty, she had been on the cheerleading squad in high school giving her a toned body and her dark eyes and chestnut curls caught a lot of men's eyes. Her C-cup breasts were a nice size on her small form and her rather big perky butt had been the topic of imagination for a lot of her male classmates, not that she knew of that of course.

"Ummh, thanks. Where should I put my stuff?" She looked down at her feet as she said this, uncomfortable with both the situation of moving in with him and with his penetrating gaze on her.

"I'll take you up to the bedroom. Just follow me." He turned around and strode down a hallway and up a flight of stairs, before opening the door furthest down the corridor. Iroha had time to ponder him on the way. Her uncle was 37 years old, she knew that from the yearly birthday cards her family sent him and in good shape as far as she could see. He was serious and hardworking from what she remembered from her childhood, not one to make jokes or really talk all that much but she didn't remember him as ever being unpleasant to be around. Then why was he making her so uncomfortable now?

Trying to shake the uneasy feeling she had, she stepped through the door her uncle had opened which closed behind them with a click. The room was not what she had expected at all. It wasn't the size of it, the furniture within or even the decor that was odd, it was how lived in it obviously looked. There was men's clothing on the back of an armchair and a pair of boxers on the ground in front of the bed, the bed itself had apparently been made in a hurry as the sheets weren't even and the pillows looked to have been haphazardly thrown on top.

Iroha turned around to look at her uncle.

"You must have taken me to the wrong room, clearly someone lives here!" She made to move past him towards the door, but Dennis stopped her by grabbing her around shoulder and pulling her body close to his.

"No, my dear, I did not take you to the wrong room. You are right that someone lives here, I do actually, but I never said that you would get your own room." He smiled at her, a smile that was meant to calm her, tell her that everything was alright but Iroha felt a little afraid now.

"I can't stay in the same room with you! There must be another place for me to sleep, I'll stay on the sofa if there's no alternative but I won't share a bed with you." Iroha tried to pull away from him, to get out of his grip but his hand only gripped her shoulder more tightly whilst his other arm snaked around her waist, moving uncomfortably close to her ass over her short dress. It was a warm summer's day and Iroha had wanted to take advantage of not having to follow a school dress code anymore, but now she regretted wearing the short light blue dress today.

"Oh yes, you can and you will, just like you'll do anything else I ask you to do. And right now I want you to take that cute little dress of so I can get you in my bed and fuck your sweet little pussy." He expected her beginning to struggle in earnest and held her arms to her sides by clamping one of his larger muscular arms around her whilst his other hand began pulling her dress up inch by inch.

Iroha was trying hard to break free from his grasp, she managed to hit his thigh painfully as she tried to knee his groin but he managed to get her dress up to right below her breasts without letting her get away. All the while Iroha was crying out for him to stop, to leave her alone.

"You can't do this to me! No! Stop, I'm your niece, you can't do this! Uncle Dennis! I don't want this, let me go! No!" She was crying by now, tears streaming down her face as her uncle ripped the dress off her, leaving her standing in only a black bralette and panty set. She felt more exposed than ever before in her life. Iroha was a virgin, she had only ever kissed and touched a guy above his clothes, now her uncle was forcing himself upon her and she was in his house, locked in a room with him with no one around for miles. She could feel his erection pressing into her naked belly through his jeans as his hands moved to the clasp of her bralette on her back.

"Oh sweet girl, I can do anything I want to you now. I even have your dad's permission to fuck you and knock you up, although I would have done that either way. So stop fucking whining and accept that from now on you'll spend a lot of time with my cock inside you." With this he managed to open the clasp and pull the flimsy fabric of her bralette off and away from her.

She continued struggling as he pushed her back towards the bed, laying her down on it as he straddled her hips. Iroha's arms were free now, so she tried to punch him in the face but her uncle only laughed and pulled out some tape from the bedside drawer. With this he secured her hands together above her head before attaching them to the headboard. This pushed her breasts out towards him, which he took advantage of by taking the nipple of her left breast into his mouth and sucking on it.

"Aah, I hate you, you need to stop doing this, please! I'm a virgin, I don't want to lose it like this! Please stop this, I won't ever tell anyone if you just stop now, please!" She was noticing quickly that trying to get her hands free was doing nothing, so now she focused on trying to kick him again but with him straddling her it was hard to even move her legs. Iroha felt incredibly afraid lying almost naked on the soft bed with her uncle over her, his mouth on her chest. She couldn't believe that her own dad had actually agreed to letting his brother do this to her. How could he be okay with this?

"If you don't stop complaining, I'll tape your mouth shut too!" Dennis said as he pulled his own T-shirt over his head and threw it somewhere in the room. If Iroha hadn't been so terrified and focused on finding a way out of this situation, she would have noticed that he was quite well-built and not unattractive for a man his age at all.

"No, uncle Dennis, please just stop this now. I won't bother you, I'll find somewhere else to stay just let me go please!" Iroha began sobbing as her uncle shifted his focus from her chest to her panties, which he ripped off her in one quick motion. She was now entirely bare before him and she could see his erection straining against the fabric of his jeans. The bulge in his pants looked huge and terrifying to a virgin like her, and she wanted desperately to get as far away as possible from him.

"I told you what would happen if you didn't stop whining. Tape it is then." he said, as he ripped off a piece of tape and placed it over her mouth. She was still trying to plead and beg him to stop, but only muffled noise came out as tears were streaming down her face.

Dennis started unbuttoning his own pants now and pulled them and his boxers off, freeing his rock-hard cock from it's confines. He was a large man and his cock matched his overall stature. 9 inches long and as thick as Iroha's wrists, it made a new wave of tears flow down her cheeks and her muffled protests got louder.

Her uncle however just ignored her pleas and spread her legs forcefully to get a good look at her pussy. She was waxed bare, not liking the hassle of constant shaving or the look and feel of hair growing down there. Dennis groaned at the sight of her tight opening, it looked impossibly tiny next to his huge cock and he couldn't wait to sheath himself inside her.

She was definitely not aroused however, so he would have to work for a while to get her wet enough to get his monster into her virgin cunt. Ignoring her muffled protests, he started rubbing above her opening, looking for her little pleasure bud. Once he had found her clit as shown by the involuntary bucking of her hips, he applied more and more pressure to it, forcing her towards an orgasm she did not want to experience. Iroha was gasping and panting, trying to resist giving in to the tightening coil in her loins but she couldn't help unravelling when he pressed hard on her clit whilst pinching one of her nipples with the other hand. She wasn't one to masturbate regularly and so this orgasm really hit her with it's intensity, making her almost forget where and with whom she was right now, it was so good.

Finding her sufficiently wet after her orgasm, Iroha's uncle positioned himself at her entrance and began pushing into her tight pussy. His thick cockhead stretched her opening as he forcefully pressed into her. Iroha was protesting against the tape over her mouth at the intrusion and the pain of being stretched so much, and yet only the head of his long rod was actually inside her yet. She also knew that he had not put on a condom and whilst she hadn't thought about what he had said about knocking her up before, only thinking about how she could get him away from her, she knew it was a realistic possibility that he could actually impregnate her.

All of her thoughts came to a halt as she felt Dennis push further into her until he reached a barrier, her hymen. This was it, she wouldn't be a virgin anymore after this. If she had known that this is what it would come to, she would have slept with one of the guys from school, anything to avoid this being her first time. It felt like he was tearing her apart with his thick cock as he pulled back only a little, before thrusting back and tearing through her hymen. If she hadn't already cried all of her tears, she would have burst into them all over again.

Dennis' cock still wasn't fully inside her as he began thrusting at a slow rhythm, trying to embed more and more of his manhood in her with every thrust. She felt so tiny underneath him, her small frame dwarfed by him and he loved the feeling of his cock stretching her insides. He could almost see her belly bulge whenever he pushed himself deep inside her, nudging her cervix even though there was still an inch that he hadn't managed to get into her. She was unbelievably tight and knowing that she was his now, that he could fuck her whenever he wanted however he wanted almost made him come right then.

But he wanted to drag it out a little more, so he pulled out of her for now. The look of hope that this was it in her tear-rimmed eyes quickly was replaced by fear as he turned her around so she was on her knees in front of him, her tits pressed into the mattress and the tape attaching her wrists to the bed frame tightening from being twisted.

Then he pushed his cock back into her pussy and began really fucking her with quick, hard thrusts that sent Iroha's tits bouncing and had her gasping in pain every time his thick cockhead would forcefully push against her cervix.

Dennis loved watching his huge cock stretching her pussy to the limits everytime he pushed it into her. There was nothing better to him than fucking a tight little cunt, and his sweet 18-year-old niece felt like heaven as he pounded into her. He was close to cumming, but wanted to feel her pussy clenching around him in orgasm as he came, so he reached one of his hands down around her to rub her clit.

Iroha hated that it actually started to feel good when he rubbed her clit. The pain was bearable now and with the change in positions he actually hit a pleasurable spot deep inside her that she hadn't even known existed. She still hated how he was forcing her into this so much, but her body still responded to his ministrations the same as if this had been a voluntary experience.

She screamed, loud even through the tape on her mouth as she came in a haze of pleasure and pain. Her pussy clamped down around Dennis' cock pushing him into his release too. He held himself deep inside her as he shot jet after jet of hot cum right against the entrance to her womb, grunting and groaning in pleasure all the while. Naturally her body reacted to his hot cum shooting inside her by drawing out her orgasm, pulling the cum deeper inside her every time her pussy contracted. This orgasm felt even better than the first, leaving her in a blissful state of pleasure for almost a minute.

Once she came down from her high, Iroha started feeling the aftermath of what had happened. She felt a weird warmth inside her where her uncle's cum was still lodged deeply by his now flaccid member, only a small amount dripping out. The reality of the situation hit her; he might have gotten her pregnant. Iroha wasn't on any birth control, she hadn't planned on having sex with anyone and would have used a condom once the moment arose. How long ago had her period been? She counted the days in her head. Six days since her period ended and she had actually had her period for five days…

She started crying again as she realised that although it wasn't her most fertile day, it was definitely a highly dangerous one. Iroha couldn't have a baby now, she wanted to start college in a few months, meet someone, fall in love for the first time. But now she might not have any of that, if her uncle asserted his will and actually got her pregnant. Even if it didn't happen right now, he wouldn't let her get away that easily and there was nobody around who she could run to. 'At least I like kids', a small voice in her mind said, 'and he made me orgasm twice, that's something.'

Dennis finally got out of his pleasure-induced haze and started pulling his now soft cock out of Iroha's cum-filled cunt. It filled him with a sick sense of pride as he saw his cum start leaking out of her. She was still on her knees with her upper body pressed into the mattress as the tape held her in position. He wouldn't let her move right away, so most of his sperm was stopped from leaking out by gravity.

"You look stunning, sweetheart. On your knees with my cum filling your pussy, this is where you belong from now on." He smiled at her and walked off towards the bathroom, leaving the terrified minor in her position on his bed. Dennis would go back to her after he showered and once she promised she wouldn't fight him again, he'd have her take a nice hot bath and a good hearty meal. And then he would have some more fun with his new personal sex-slave and have another go at breeding her. One day soon she would be pregnant with his child and then he'd have her forever.

Chapter Management Edit Chapter Chapter 2: Iroha's New Life Chapter Text

Seven weeks after moving in with her uncle, Iroha had become somewhat used to her new life, as far as one ever could get used to being an unwilling broodmare for their own uncle. She had pretty much given up on fighting him when it came to sex. She had learnt the hard way that the more she tried to fight him, the rougher the treatment she would get for it.

The first few days had been hell for her. Dennis had been so excited about finally having his beautiful niece all for himself that he hadn't let up on her for more than a couple of hours when she first moved in. During those first few days he'd had her in every position he could think of, and he had loved shooting his cum into her in every single one of them.

He had grown especially fond of making her ride him, as she really had to think about what they were doing and look him in the eyes as he made her basically fuck herself with his cock.

Iroha had tried to avoid thinking about actually fucking her uncle in the beginning, instead imagining herself somewhere else, with someone else, but when Dennis had picked up on that, he had found ways of making her remember at all times that she was with him. Now he constantly reminded her that it was her uncle's cock that was pounding into her, that it was his cum filling her up and his baby that would soon grow inside her. He made her look into his eyes as he came and had started making her ask to be fucked, by playing with her clit with a strong vibrator until she couldn't take another orgasm and asked him to finally take her.

Iroha wasn't quite pregnant yet, her last period had come a little less than three weeks after coming here, but with the pace Dennis had been filling her up with cum, he suspected she would be pregnant very soon. Her next period should have started yesterday and it hadn't begun yet, so he hoped he had already succeeded at knocking her up and just didn't know for certain yet.

That morning Dennis had taken her in his all-time favorite position again, with her on her knees as he roughly fucked her from behind. It made him feel so powerful to have this young beauty on her hands and knees with his cock buried in her to the hilt, completely at his mercy. And it gave him the best angle to continually hit her cervix with every thrust, which he enjoyed immensely. Like music to his ears, Iroha would gasp and groan as he used his hands to make her cum on his cock as he fucked her, while pushing so painfully deeply inside her with every thrust. It also satisfied the primal part of him that just wanted to breed her and make her take his seed, so he could see her swell with his child.

Just imagining her pregnant, her beautiful tits even bigger, her belly growing and her face flushed as she carried around his progeny, he was hard again. He really wanted to take his little toy again right now, and luckily for him he could do so whenever he wanted.

Her uncle found Iroha on the living room sofa, reading a book he had bought her as one of many bribes to try and get her warmed up to him. In time and in conjunction with the hopefully soon aiding pregnancy hormones, he hoped he could get her so used to him that she wouldn't try to leave again and instead accepted her new life as it was. The two times Iroha had tried to get away, his alarm system had warned him early and he had gotten her before she could even leave the front porch. But he had had to punish her for it, spanking her roughly both times, which was something he didn't enjoy. It wasn't that he didn't enjoy making her feel a bit of pain, he just preferred using his cock to cause that as he fucked her instead of spanking her.

"Come here, Iroha.", he told her now in the strict voice he used whenever he gave her a command. She had quickly picked up on the fact that it was in her own interest to obey him straight away. If she took too long to do something he told her to do, or she didn't do it at all, he would be very rough in making her do exactly what he had asked her to.

With trembling fingers Iroha put the book she had been reading away and stood up from the couch, slowly so she could delay the inevitable as long as she could. When she looked at him, she saw that her uncle had already undressed and was standing before her with his cock proudly protruding from his body. She knew what he wanted when he pointed at the ground before him, so Iroha got down on her knees before him and started taking his cock into her mouth immediately. She knew that if she didn't, he would use a ring gag on her and force himself into her mouth, something she had learned the hard way.

Dennis enjoyed letting his niece suck on his cock to get him nice and wet whenever he wanted to fuck her. That way he could skip the foreplay and just make her take his dick, instead of having to wait until he got her sufficiently wet before doing so. That was something he was really looking forward to when he got her pregnant, he had heard a number of times that pregnant women were constantly horny and ready to be fucked. That sounded amazing to him, and he couldn't wait for Iroha to get to that point.

"Take off your dress, then bend over the sofa, baby." The sofa was just slightly too high for Iroha to bend over the back of it without going up on her tiptoes, so she was balancing on them in order to get herself high enough. Dennis enjoyed this position immensely, he needed to lift her up a bit further to get his cock into her tight pussy as she was so much shorter than him, which meant her feet left the floor and she was completely under his control as plowed into her. He quickly pushed his glistening cock into his niece, ignoring her moan of pain as his big cock stretched her open again.

Dennis had been delighted to find out that even after weeks of almost constant fucking, she would still always be nice and tight whenever he wanted to fuck her next, her pussy tightening back up in vain every time, as it would be forcefully stretched again by his big cock only hours later.

Now that he was back inside her, he set a languid pace of deliberate forceful thrusts, for which he would lift Iroha up slightly every time he pulled out and then let her fall back onto his cock, getting himself impossibly deep inside her. He continued like this for a while, revelling in the feeling of being buried balls deep in her warm wet pussy.

Against her will, Iroha's pussy got wet very quickly every time he fucked her now. Her body knew how to fulfill its natural purpose much better than she did, Dennis thought as he continued roughly moving her up and down on his cock.

Iroha was ashamed at feeling herself get closer to orgasm yet again. It seemed that her uncle had figured out exactly how he could make her cum quickly whilst taking her, despite the soreness and pain that she still felt every time.

This was still one of the worst things about being fucked by her uncle, the way her own body betrayed her. But even as she thought that, she felt the delicious pleasure of her coming climax as her pussy started clenching around Dennis' big cock.

He started furiously pistoning in and out of her now, the way Iroha's pussy spasmed around him quickly pushing him over the edge too. As the first shot of cum left his twitching cock, he pushed himself inside her as far as he could and emptied his balls right into her womb, thrusting slightly with every new spurt whilst keeping himself deeply buried.

Now that he was finally done Iroha slumped against the back of the sofa and felt his warm release pool deep inside her, as she was tilted down so it couldn't escape. She didn't have the energy to cry every time he fucked her anymore, as she got so used to being used as his very own fucktoy, that she became a little bit more numb to it every time.

In the beginning she screamed and cried every time, after futilely trying to fight him off beforehand. But now she just did what he commanded her to most of the time and hoped for it to be over soon. Only when he told her to do something especially painful or undignified she fought him, like when he wanted her to ask him to fuck her or to expressly tell him that she liked what he did to her. But even then he would find a way to force her into doing so regardless of how much he fought.

Iroha winced as her uncle finally pulled his now limp cock out of her, the friction irritating her abused pussy as it was still overly sensitive from her last orgasm. A strong hand on her back stopped her from getting back on her feet yet, as Dennis started fondling her soft breasts with his other hand. He alternated between tweaking her nipples and cupping and squeezing her tits, now using both hands to play with Iroha's beautiful chest which made her whimper as he stimulated her sensitive tits. He liked keeping her in a position where his cum couldn't escape for a while after a thorough fuck, so like this he used the time to have some more fun with her.

Only after another ten minutes of playing with Iroha's breasts and later her clit, thus forcing another orgasm from her did Dennis let her stand again and left her as he went back to his office, deeply satisfied from another glorious fuck.

Two days later, Iroha still hadn't started her period. She was terrified about most likely already being pregnant, whereas her uncle was already feeling victorious as he made her take a pregnancy test to confirm what both expected. With trembling fingers holding the blue and white stick, Iroha sat on the side of the bathtub and prayed for it to not show her the result she dreaded. Dennis stood across from her, impatiently twitching his foot as he waited for the confirmation of his achievement. Two stripes appeared after another tense moment, and as Iroha started to sob at the now certainty that her uncle had succeeded at knocking her up. He bent down to pick her up and carried her off to the bedroom, setting her down on their bed before pulling her against him.

He was so hard as he thought about his niece now carrying his child that he couldn't wait to sink his cock back into her right now, but it wouldn't do for her to be crying the entire time and he needed her to calm down for the safety of the child. And for once he wanted her to actually enjoy it as he fucked her, even if it was just this one time.

"Iroha, listen to me."

She looked up at his command, so used to obeying his orders that it now came automatically.

"You are going to stop crying and calm down now. I told you that I would knock you up soon and now that you are pregnant, it doesn't do anything to cry about it. You are going to be so beautiful as your belly grows with our child and everything is going to be perfect. Just lean back and let me relax you."

With that, he pulled her further towards him, so she was leaning with her back against his chest, her legs between his on the bed. She only wore a short dress as he wanted her to during the summer, with nothing underneath so he had easy access. He now used his hands to spread her legs, whilst she was still silently crying as she lay against him, although her breathing had calmed somewhat and she was no longer sobbing loudly. Then he started slowly and tenderly stroking her clit, willing her to only feel pleasure at that moment so she would stop being so terrified and calm down.

This was the first time he really took his time in pleasuring her, without just doing so to get her to either get wet enough for sex or so he could feel her orgasming around his cock. This time it actually was about her, he wanted to calm her down about getting pregnant and also reward her this way for everything she was giving him, albeit against her will. Dennis started whispering words of praise into her ear as his other hand moved up under her dress to play with her breasts, but now he was careful and tender in his actions, wanting her to feel good about what he did. His other hand continued touching her clit as he slowly built up the pleasure.

Without thinking, Iroha felt herself leaning further into her uncle's embrace the longer he touched and praised her. It was getting increasingly difficult to focus on anything but the pleasurable sensations he evoked in her with his touch, so different to how his hands had felt on her before. Even the terror at having another life growing inside her against her will abated slowly as her mind became hazy and she felt herself slowly nearing her climax. This felt so much better than all the times he had forcefully made her cum in order to satisfy his own needs.

When he turned her around to straddle his lap, she didn't even try to stop him and let him kiss her deeply as he continued his ministrations on her clit and her sensitive breasts. He would do so anyway, no matter what she did, so why not just enjoy it and let it happen for once. She also let him take off her dress and move his mouth down to suck one of her hard nipples into his mouth, making her moan loudly at the stimulation.

Soon he had her cumming on his hand as he continued softly stroking her, guiding her through the best orgasm she had ever had. When she was done she slumped against him with her head on his shoulder, her face flushed and her breathing labored.

With her still limply leaning against him, Dennis pulled off the confining fabric of his boxers which his painfully hard cock had been straining against. His cock was weeping with precum and he desperately needed to feel it buried in Iroha's tight wet pussy.

"You were so great, baby, how about I make you feel that again?", he asked her in a much softer voice than he normally used with her. When she nodded with her face still buried in the crook of his neck, he slowly lifted her up and placed her right above his straining cock. He then slowly let her sink down upon it, hearing only a sharp inhale of breath from Iroha once he was buried fully inside her.

Still completely relaxed in her post-orgasmic haze, Iroha was surprised that she barely felt any pain when her uncle's cock entered her body, only the mild ache of her pussy stretching to accommodate him. And when he began rubbing her clit again as well as kissing the skin on her neck and shoulders tenderly, she didn't even protest as he began lifting her up and down on his cock.

After a few minutes of slow, sensual sex Iroha felt herself building up towards another powerful orgasm. She couldn't stop herself from moaning in pleasure now, and that spurred her uncle on to get a little more forceful with his actions. He began really thrusting into her from below as he felt himself speeding towards cumming too. Having his little pregnant niece blissfully moaning as he fucked her made him really enjoy this much slower, less rough sex. And when he finally used both his hands to really bounce her up and down on his cock as he started cumming, he was ecstatic as he felt his niece's pussy rhythmically spasming around him as she too came again.

Rain really made ordinary filming days just seem a bit softer, a bit weird, a bit harder, and therefore a little bit harder to deal with.

The studio courtyard behind the photo set was so dark and humid, puddles scattered across a range of the tiles but there were no water touches in one instance. Someone's laughing too loud near the door and it could be heard in the background too long as the production chatter went away. Rain drummed on the canopy above the equipment table with a brisk motion that might well be seen as background music for a day or an entire day.

Inside the temporary dressing area, the members of tripleS’ unit moon were in various positions of preparation.

Hair irons hissed. Makeup brushes moved quickly. Stylists stepped around bags and clothing racks with practiced speed while the girls themselves floated between mirrors, chairs, and the doorway that led out to the rain.

Lynn leaned casually against the edge of a makeup counter, still half dressed in her concept outfit. The stylist had already finished with her lenses and bangs earlier, leaving her with a look that felt pulled straight out of some late night anime broadcast. The colored contacts made her eyes almost glow beneath the warm vanity lights, and the way her hair framed her face made the staff nearby whisper approvingly.

“Anime girl,” someone had said earlier.

Lynn had laughed at that.

Now she lazily checked her phone while listening to the chaos unfolding around her.

JiYeon was trying to keep cake frosting off her sleeve.

Kaede was enthusiastically explaining something about the concept photos.

And somewhere near the door, ShiOn was proudly declaring herself the group’s official weather fairy.

“I’m serious,” ShiOn insisted, standing just inside the open doorway with her hands on her hips. Her twintails bounced slightly as she spoke. “When we’re on tour it doesn’t rain. But the moment we do a jacket shoot it suddenly starts.”

NaKyoung, who had decided to swing by the moon subunit’s shoot after wrapping her own Neptune schedule earlier that day, was sitting cross-legged on the floor nearby, back against a rolled-up backdrop. She tilted her head up toward ShiOn with a slow, teasing smile, the kind that always meant she was about to stir something.

“So you’re saying this is your fault?” she asked, voice light but dripping with mock accusation. “Weather fairy ShiOn strikes again.”

ShiOn gasped dramatically, one hand flying to her chest like she’d been personally betrayed. “That is not what I said!”

The room erupted with quiet giggles.

NaKyoung’s guest appearances turned into gentle chaos. She’d shown up unannounced about an hour ago, still in her own practice sweats. 

NaKyoung wasn’t technically part of moon, of course. She belonged to Neptune—consisting of: NaKyoung as the eldest, Dahyun, Nien, SeoYeon, Kotone, and SeoAh, the baby of the group.

But boundaries between units were blurry on days like this. NaKyoung had wandered over with a bag of convenience-store snacks and a grin, declaring she was “moral support” for SoHyun’s birthday shoot. No one had argued.

Lynn glanced up from her phone, watching the interaction with mild amusement. ShiOn had this strange ability to fill a room without even trying.

Right now she was leaning against the doorway like she was negotiating with the sky to get out of the rain.

Her twintails swayed gently with all this weight

Lynn found herself staring a little longer than she meant to.

Not that anyone noticed.

The rain had started to get more serious outside as well and now as it approached the courtyard in the grey sky, it made the pavement reflective. Staff were discussing taking some shots indoors while camera assistants wiped droplets off equipment lenses.

It should have been annoying.

Instead you could feel quite warm in the dressing room when you walked in.

Somewhere behind Lynn, someone started humming the melody to “Happy Birthday” as she moved on, “happy birthday just behind Lynn’s ears.

That soon triggered another round of noise.

SoHyun’s birthday celebration had started earlier in the afternoon, halfway through filming. What was supposed to be a simple jacket shoot had somehow turned into cake, singing, and JiYeon trying to cover SoHyun’s face in frosting while the cameras were still rolling.

Even now, small smears of icing remained on the lid of the cake box sitting on the table.

NaKyoung poked at it thoughtfully.

“Is this still edible?”

“Do not,” Kaede warned immediately.

Too late.

NaKyoung dipped her finger into the frosting anyway and grinned.

Lynn chuckled quietly to herself before lifting her gaze again.

ShiOn had stepped back inside now, brushing a few stray raindrops from her sleeves. Her cheeks were faintly pink from the cool air outside, and the ends of her twintails were slightly damp.

She caught Lynn looking.

For half a second neither of them said anything.

Then ShiOn smiled.

It was one of those bright, easy smiles that made her eyes curve naturally, like she had just thought of something mischievous. “Lynn.”

The way she said her name was soft but teasing at the same time.

Lynn raised an eyebrow. “What?”

ShiOn walked closer, stopping just a few steps away. The lenses in Lynn’s eyes reflected faintly under the lights as she looked up at her.

“You’ve been staring for like five seconds.”

NaKyoung snorted from across the room. “Five seconds is generous.”

Lynn didn’t even look embarrassed.

Instead she slowly tilted her head and studied ShiOn again like she was proving a point. “Maybe I just like the view.”

That made ShiOn blink.

NaKyoung immediately turned around with a dramatic gasp. “Oh?”

Across the room JiYeon leaned closer too, sensing gossip like a shark smelling blood.

ShiOn felt the warmth creep up the back of her neck.

“Stop saying weird things,” she muttered, trying to sound annoyed.

But the corner of her mouth twitched.

Lynn only smiled wider.

Outside the rain kept falling steadily against the pavement, turning the entire day into something like a film, almost balletic. Cameras were being reset for the next round of shooting and staff voices called out directions as they passed the door to each other along the hallway and somewhere else a stylist asked who had taken the last umbrella.

Inside the dressing room, though, the members of moon had stayed in the small circle of laughter, cake crumbs and teasing.

And yet Lynn’s attention kept rolling back to someone.

ShiOn.

Not that she would admit that out loud.

At least not yet.

The courtyard lights had just been switched on when filming resumed.

Although it was still daytime, the heavy clouds made the whole set look dim and silver toned, the rain softening the edges of everything. The wet pavement reflected the studio lights like scattered mirrors; in my mind it made for a sense almost cinematic. The staff jumped around washing their equipment to put a cover above, the cleaners wiping droplets from the camera lens for the hundredth time.

Some in front of the monitors clapped their hands.

“Okay! We’re starting with outdoor shots again!”

A small cheer went up from the members.

Kaede stretched her arms over her head before bouncing lightly on her toes.

“Anime energy time.”

JiYeon adjusted the collar of her outfit while peeking out at the rain again.

“It’s actually kind of pretty.”

NaKyoung leaned casually against one of the equipment tables, already watching the chaos with quiet amusement.

Meanwhile, Lynn stood just beneath the edge of the canopy, staring out at the rain like she was debating something.

Her outfit was fully styled now, the lenses catching the light again as she blinked slowly. With her bangs perfectly arranged and the stylized concept makeup finished, she really did look like someone pulled straight out of an animated scene.

Behind her, ShiOn was finishing a quick check with one of the stylists.

Her twintails had been re-fixed after the rain earlier, though a few soft strands still framed her cheeks. The strawberry cake she had eaten earlier had apparently given her enough energy to be bouncing around again, and she now stepped toward the courtyard with a bright grin.

“Okay everyone,” she announced proudly, lifting both arms slightly. “The weather fairy has decided we can film.”

NaKyoung snorted. “You are the rain.”

ShiOn gasped in betrayal. “I am the opposite of rain.”

“Explain the evidence,” JiYeon said immediately.

ShiOn pointed dramatically at the sky like she was presenting a scientific argument. “This is atmospheric betrayal.”

Lynn laughed quietly under her breath.

ShiOn turned toward her instantly. “You’re laughing too.”

Lynn shrugged.

“Because you’re dramatic.”

“That’s rude.”

“You’re dramatic and wrong.”

NaKyoung nearly choked trying not to laugh.

The staff member waved everyone closer.

“Positions please!”

The girls slowly moved toward the center of the courtyard where the first setup had been arranged. The rain had lightened slightly now, more of a mist than a downpour, and the camera lights reflected beautifully off the wet ground.

Sullin stepped forward first for her shots while the others gathered near the monitors to watch.

ShiOn stood beside Lynn without really thinking about it.

For a moment they were both quiet.

The rain fell softly around them.

Somewhere nearby the camera shutter clicked repeatedly while staff members gave instructions.

Lynn glanced sideways.

ShiOn was watching the filming attentively, arms folded loosely while her twintails swayed slightly every time she shifted her weight.

There was something about her that always felt energetic, even when she was standing still.

Lynn leaned slightly closer.

“Hey.”

ShiOn looked at her.

“What?”

Lynn studied her face for a second before speaking.

“You look cold.”

“I’m not cold.”

“You’re definitely cold.”

ShiOn frowned a little.

“I’m not.”

Lynn’s eyes drifted down briefly to the way ShiOn’s hands were tucked halfway into her sleeves.

Then she smirked.

“Sure, princess.”

ShiOn froze.

NaKyoung’s head snapped toward them instantly.

“What did you just say?”

Lynn looked completely calm.

“What?”

NaKyoung pointed at her like she had just witnessed something scandalous.

“You called her princess.”

ShiOn blinked several times.

“I did not hear that wrong.”

Lynn tilted her head slightly.

“Did I?”

ShiOn stared at her.

“…why would you call me that?”

Lynn shrugged casually.

“You look like one.”

NaKyoung leaned closer with the biggest grin.

“Oh this is interesting.”

ShiOn’s face warmed slightly.

“That doesn’t even make sense.”

Lynn didn’t look away.

“It makes perfect sense.”

ShiOn tried to act unimpressed, but the tiny smile tugging at the corner of her mouth completely betrayed her.

“Don’t start using weird nicknames.”

“Why not?”

“Because.”

“That’s not a reason.”

NaKyoung whispered dramatically from the side.

“Princess.”

ShiOn turned toward her immediately.

“Stop encouraging her.”

NaKyoung held her hands up. “I’m just observing.”

The camera shutter clicked again across the courtyard.

A staff member waved for the next person.

“ShiOn!”

ShiOn turned instinctively. “That’s me.”

She stepped forward toward the filming area, but just before leaving she glanced back once.

Lynn was still watching her.

That same faint teasing smile sat on her face.

And just quietly enough that only ShiOn could hear it, Lynn spoke again. “Good luck, princess.”

ShiOn nearly tripped walking toward the camera.

The rain continued falling gently around the courtyard, the lights reflecting off the pavement while something small and mischievous quietly started building between the two of them.

They had no idea yet how much worse the teasing was about to get.

The rain had softened into a fine mist by the time ShiOn stepped onto the filming mark.

A stylist quickly adjusted the edge of her sleeve, another staff member crouched slightly to check the reflection of the lights on the wet pavement, and the photographer lifted the camera again.

“Okay, ready.”

ShiOn nodded.

She slipped into position almost instantly. Shoulders relaxed, chin tilted slightly upward, eyes focused just past the lens. The twintails framing her face swayed gently when a light breeze moved through the courtyard, and the faint moisture in the air made the entire shot look dreamy through the camera monitor.

Click.

Click click.

“Good. Hold that.”

Across the courtyard, the rest of the members gathered near the monitors to watch.

NaKyoung had already planted herself next to Lynn like she had claimed front row seats to a show.

She leaned slightly closer to Lynn.

“So.”

Lynn didn’t look away from the filming.

“So?”

NaKyoung’s eyes sparkled with mischief.

“Princess.”

Lynn sighed.

“You’re really going to drag that out.”

“Oh absolutely.”

On the monitor, ShiOn shifted her pose slightly, tilting her head so the light caught her eyes better.

Click.

“Beautiful, keep that.”

NaKyoung watched the screen for a second before elbowing Lynn lightly.

“She does look like one though.”

Lynn hummed.

“Mhm.”

NaKyoung blinked.

“…wait, you're not denying it?”

Lynn folded her arms loosely.

“Why would I?”

NaKyoung stared at her like she had just uncovered a secret.

“Oh this is serious.”

“It’s not serious.”

“You called her princess.”

“I called her princess once.”

“You called her princess twice.”

Lynn finally glanced at her.

“You’re counting?”

NaKyoung grinned.

“Oh I’m absolutely counting.”

Click.

The photographer lowered the camera briefly.

“Nice. One more set.”

ShiOn brushed a strand of hair from her cheek before repositioning slightly. The rain had left tiny droplets along the ends of her twintails, and when the light hit them it almost looked like tiny crystals.

Lynn’s gaze lingered on the screen.

NaKyoung noticed.

She leaned closer again, lowering her voice dramatically.

“You’re staring again.”

“I’m watching the monitor.”

“Sure.”

“I am.”

“Sure.”

Lynn didn’t respond this time.

On the screen, ShiOn smiled slightly during the next shot.

Click.

The photographer laughed softly.

“That’s it. That smile.”

NaKyoung pointed at the monitor immediately.

“See? The princess smile.”

Lynn rubbed her temple.

“You’re unbearable.”

“I’m correct.”

Across the courtyard, the photographer finally lowered the camera.

“Okay! Good!”

ShiOn relaxed instantly.

The moment the filming ended she turned and jogged back toward the group, carefully avoiding a puddle near the equipment table. Her energy returned immediately now that the pressure of the camera was gone.

“Was it okay?” she asked.

Kaede gave her a thumbs up.

“Very anime heroine.”

JiYeon nodded dramatically.

“You looked like the main character.”

ShiOn looked pleased.

“See? Weather fairy energy.”

NaKyoung spoke before anyone else could.

“Princess energy.”

ShiOn froze.

Slowly she turned her head toward Lynn.

“You told her.”

Lynn looked innocent.

“I didn’t tell her anything.”

NaKyoung pointed.

“She said it first.”

ShiOn squinted at Lynn.

“You started that.”

Lynn shrugged lazily.

“You didn’t complain.”

ShiOn opened her mouth to respond.

Then paused.

Because technically…

She hadn’t.

Her cheeks warmed slightly.

“I didn’t say it was okay either.”

“That sounds like neutral approval.”

“That is not neutral approval.”

NaKyoung was trying not to laugh again.

“Oh this is going to be fun.”

A staff member clapped again.

“Next! Lynn!”

Lynn straightened.

“Alright.”

She stepped away from the group and toward the filming mark.

As she passed ShiOn, she leaned slightly closer.

Just for a moment.

Quiet enough that the others couldn’t hear.

“Watch carefully, princess.”

ShiOn’s brain short circuited.

Lynn walked past her like nothing happened.

NaKyoung leaned closer immediately.

“What did she say?”

ShiOn stared at the ground for a second before slowly looking back toward the camera setup where Lynn was now getting into position.

“…nothing.”

NaKyoung squinted suspiciously.

“That was definitely something.”

ShiOn folded her arms and tried to look normal again while watching Lynn step under the lights.

The rain mist drifted through the air again, catching the glow of the set lights as the photographer lifted the camera.

Click.

Lynn tilted her head slightly, eyes sharp under the colored lenses.

Click click.

On the monitor she looked almost unreal.

NaKyoung whispered.

“Okay yeah. Anime girl.”

ShiOn didn’t respond.

Because suddenly she realized something slightly dangerous.

Lynn was still looking in her direction even while posing for the camera.

And every time the photographer said “hold that,” her gaze drifted right back toward ShiOn.

Like she was performing for one specific person.

ShiOn swallowed slightly.

NaKyoung noticed immediately.

“…oh.”

ShiOn turned.

“What.”

NaKyoung grinned slowly.

“Oh this shoot is definitely about to get interesting.”

The rain had almost completely stopped by the time Lynn’s shots wrapped.

Only a light mist still hung in the air, the kind that made the studio lights glow softly against the wet pavement. The courtyard looked calmer now, the earlier cacophony of umbrellas and rushing staff settling into a smoother rhythm as the team prepared for the next setup.

The photographer lowered the camera with a satisfied nod".

“Nice. That’s good.”

Lynn stepped away from the mark then brushed a small drop of water from her sleeve. Her lenses still caught the light when she blinked, giving her that same slightly unreal anime look that the staff had been quietly praising all afternoon.

She walked back toward the group where the others were gathered around the monitors.

NaKyoung immediately leaned toward ShiOn again.

“Okay, now she’s doing it on purpose.”

ShiOn pretended she had no idea what she meant.

“Doing what.”

“Looking at you.”

“She was not.”

“She absolutely was.”

ShiOn crossed her arms.

“You’re imagining things.”

NaKyoung tilted her head, eyes narrowing playfully.

“Oh really?”

Across the courtyard, Lynn finished speaking with one of the stylists before turning back toward the group. Her gaze drifted over the members for a moment before landing directly on ShiOn again.

NaKyoung slowly pointed without even looking.

“…there.”

ShiOn followed her finger despite herself.

And immediately regretted it.

Because Lynn was definitely looking at her again.

When their eyes met, Lynn gave a small smile.

Not big enough for anyone else to notice.

Just enough.

ShiOn looked away first.

NaKyoung burst into quiet laughter.

“You’re doomed.”

“I am not doomed.”

“You’re doomed.”

Before ShiOn could argue again, JiYeon suddenly clapped her hands together loudly.

“Wait!”

Everyone looked at her.

She pointed dramatically toward the equipment table.

“We still have cake.”

The room erupted again.

SoHyun groaned from across the courtyard.

“No more cake.”

“Yes, more cake,” JiYeon insisted.

Kaede lifted the cake box lid carefully, revealing the slightly chaotic remains of the earlier celebration. The frosting had been smudged by multiple fingers already, and one corner looked like someone had attempted a very unsuccessful slice.

NaKyoung leaned closer.

“That cake has been through war.”

JiYeon grabbed a plastic fork anyway.

“It’s still cake.”

SoHyun sighed.

“This is what happens when you celebrate birthdays in the rain.”

ShiOn laughed softly, the earlier tension melting away for a moment as the group circled the table again. JiYeon scooped a small bite of cake and immediately tried to offer it to SoHyun again.

“No.”

“Just one.”

“No.”

“Birthday rules.”

While the chaos continued, Lynn slowly stepped closer to the table too.

She stopped beside ShiOn again.

The smell of strawberry frosting and rain filled the air between them.

ShiOn glanced sideways.

“You’re staring again.”

Lynn tilted her head slightly.

“I’m observing.”

“You’re observing a lot today.”

“You’re interesting.”

ShiOn huffed quietly.

“That’s suspicious.”

Lynn’s smile widened just a little.

“Suspicious how, princess?”

ShiOn’s brain paused again.

NaKyoung heard it this time and slapped the table dramatically.

“There it is again!”

JiYeon turned instantly.

“What?”

“She said princess again!”

SoHyun laughed.

“Oh my god.”

ShiOn buried her face in her hands.

“You guys are so annoying.”

Lynn looked completely unbothered.

“I don’t see the problem.”

“You keep calling me that.”

“And?”

“And it’s weird.”

“Is it?”

ShiOn looked up again, ready to argue, but stopped when she saw the expression on Lynn’s face.

There was that same teasing glint in her eyes.

Like she was enjoying this far too much.

ShiOn exhaled slowly.

“You’re impossible.”

NaKyoung leaned closer again with a grin.

“You secretly like it.”

“I do not.”

“You definitely do.”

“I definitely don’t.”

Across the courtyard, a staff member called out again.

“Okay everyone! We’re moving indoors for the next shots!”

The girls perked up immediately.

JiYeon grabbed the cake box lid again while Kaede wiped her hands with a napkin. The wet floor outside had made the outdoor filming tricky, so the next setup was being moved into the indoor studio space.

As the group started walking toward the building entrance together, the energy shifted again into excited chatter.

Sullin was talking about the choreography for the MV.

“Fast times two,” she explained dramatically.

Kaede nodded enthusiastically.

“It’s really fast.”

NaKyoung stretched her arms.

“I’m not ready.”

ShiOn walked near the middle of the group.

Lynn fell into step beside her again.

Neither of them spoke for a few seconds while the others chatted ahead of them.

Then Lynn leaned slightly closer.

Quiet enough that only ShiOn could hear.

“You didn’t answer earlier.”

ShiOn looked at her.

“Answer what.”

“Whether you actually hate it.”

“Hate what.”

Lynn’s voice dropped slightly.

“The nickname.”

ShiOn hesitated.

Her eyes flicked forward where the other members were walking.

Then back to Lynn.

“…I didn’t say I hated it.”

Lynn smiled.

That slow, satisfied kind of smile.

“I knew it.”

ShiOn rolled her eyes but couldn’t stop the tiny smile that appeared anyway.

Behind them, NaKyoung watched the entire exchange with the expression of someone witnessing a very entertaining drama unfold in real time.

She whispered to JiYeon.

“This is better than the MV.”

JiYeon nodded immediately.

“Way better.”

Inside the studio building, staff members were already setting up lights for the next round of filming. The members of moon gathered near the center of the room while someone explained the next shot order.

Sullin raised her hand.

“Moon family ready?”

Everyone lifted their hands together.

The now famous hand gesture they had created earlier appeared again, the playful unit symbol forming between them as they laughed.

“Give us water ads!”

“Give us a door ad too!”

The room filled with laughter again.

And just slightly off to the side of the group, Lynn glanced over at ShiOn one more time.

Still smiling.

Like she had already decided something.

Something ShiOn hadn’t realized yet. But would soon.

The indoor studio lights were warmer than the courtyard ones, soft gold spilling across the polished floor and bouncing off the white backdrop that had been rolled out for the group shots. The rain was still audible outside—steady taps against the building’s roof and windows—but inside it felt distant, like background noise for something else entirely.

The members had scattered a little while the staff adjusted the final lighting. Kaede was practicing a quick spin near the mirror wall, phone propped up to record herself. JiYeon was helping SoHyun fix a loose strand of hair that kept falling into her face. Sullin stood near the monitor with one of the photographers, pointing at angles and laughing about something on the screen.

ShiOn had wandered toward the far corner of the room, near the stacked equipment cases and a couple of folding chairs that had been pushed aside. She leaned back against one of the tall black cases, arms loosely crossed, watching the room with that same bright, restless energy she always carried.

Lynn drifted over a minute later.

She didn’t announce herself. Just stepped into ShiOn’s line of sight and stopped a few feet away, close enough that the faint scent of her vanilla body mist mixed with the clean smell of rain still clinging to both of them.

ShiOn glanced up.

“You again.”

Lynn tilted her head slightly.

“Me again.”

ShiOn tried to look unimpressed, but the small upward curve at the corner of her mouth gave her away.

“You’re following me now?”

“Maybe.”

ShiOn huffed a quiet laugh.

“That’s suspicious behavior.”

Lynn stepped closer.

One step.

Then another.

Until the toes of her sneakers almost touched ShiOn’s.

She didn’t crowd her—just stood there, close enough that ShiOn had to tilt her chin up a little to meet her eyes.

Lynn’s voice dropped, soft and private.

“You didn’t answer me earlier.”

ShiOn blinked.

“About what?”

Lynn reached out slowly. Her fingers brushed the end of one of ShiOn’s twintails, twirling the damp strand once before letting it slip through.

“The nickname,” she said quietly. “You said you didn’t hate it.”

ShiOn swallowed.

Her throat felt suddenly dry.

“I… didn’t say I liked it either.”

Lynn’s eyes flicked down to ShiOn’s lips for half a second.

Then back up.

“But you didn’t tell me to stop.”

ShiOn opened her mouth.

Closed it.

Her cheeks were warmer now. She could feel it.

Lynn’s hand moved from the twintail to ShiOn’s jaw—gentle, barely there. The pad of her thumb brushed once along the line of ShiOn’s lower lip.

ShiOn’s breath hitched.

Very quietly.

Lynn noticed.

She smiled—slow, knowing.

“Princess,” she murmured again, testing it.

ShiOn’s eyes fluttered.

She didn’t pull away.

Instead she leaned forward—just a fraction.

Enough that their foreheads almost touched.

“You’re gonna get us in trouble,” she whispered.

Lynn’s thumb pressed a little firmer against her lip.

“Only if someone catches us.”

ShiOn’s hands found Lynn’s waist on instinct, fingers curling into the soft fabric of her hoodie.

The room was still loud behind them—Kaede laughing, JiYeon calling for someone to fix her mic pack, staff giving directions—but it all felt very far away.

Lynn leaned in until her lips hovered just above ShiOn’s.

Not kissing.

Not yet.

Just breathing the same air.

ShiOn’s eyes half-closed.

Her voice came out smaller than she meant it to.

“Lynn…”

Lynn hummed.

Low.

Soft.

“Tell me to stop,” she said against ShiOn’s mouth. “And I will.”

ShiOn didn’t say anything.

She just tilted her head up a little more.

And closed the last centimeter of space between them.

The kiss was slow at first—tentative, like they were both still deciding if this was allowed. ShiOn’s lips parted almost immediately, soft sound escaping when Lynn’s tongue brushed hers. Lynn’s hand slid from ShiOn’s jaw to the back of her neck, fingers threading into the base of her twintails, holding her steady.

ShiOn pressed closer, hands sliding up Lynn’s sides under the hoodie, palms flat against warm skin.

Lynn made a quiet noise in the back of her throat.

The kiss deepened.

Wet.

Slow.

Hungry.

ShiOn’s back arched slightly when Lynn’s free hand slipped under the hem of her cropped top, fingertips tracing the line of her spine.

They broke apart only when air became necessary.

ShiOn’s lips were swollen, cheeks flushed, eyes glassy.

Lynn looked just as wrecked.

She rested her forehead against ShiOn’s.

Breathing hard.

“Still okay?” she whispered.

ShiOn nodded once.

Then twice.

Her voice was shaky.

“More than okay.”

Lynn kissed her again—shorter this time, but deeper.

When she pulled back, her thumb brushed over ShiOn’s bottom lip.

“Come with me,” she said quietly.

ShiOn blinked.

“Where?”

Lynn’s eyes flicked toward the hallway that led to the smaller storage rooms and changing areas at the back of the studio.

“Somewhere quieter.”

ShiOn hesitated for half a second.

Then she nodded.

Lynn took her hand.

Fingers laced.

And led her away from the bright lights and the noise.

The hallway was dimmer, lined with closed doors and stacked chairs.

They didn’t speak.

They didn’t need to.

Lynn pushed open the first unlocked door they found—a small unused changing room with a mirror, a bench, and a single overhead bulb.

She pulled ShiOn inside.

Closed the door.

Locked it.

The click was loud in the quiet.

ShiOn turned to face her.

Eyes wide.

Breath fast.

Lynn stepped forward until ShiOn’s back met the wall.

Then she kissed her again.

Harder.

Hands roaming.

And this time neither of them held back.

Lynn’s back pressed against the inside of the door the moment it clicked shut, shoulders rising and falling with quick, shallow breaths. ShiOn stood barely a foot away, still holding the edge of Lynn’s hoodie sleeve like she wasn’t sure whether to pull her closer or push her away.

The small changing room smelled faintly of hairspray and warm fabric, the single overhead bulb casting long shadows across the mirror and the narrow bench bolted to the wall. Rain drummed steadily on the roof above them, muffling everything outside into a soft white noise.

ShiOn spoke first, voice barely above a whisper.

“We’re gonna get in so much trouble if someone walks by.”

Lynn tilted her head, lips curving.

“Then be quiet, princess.”

ShiOn’s eyes narrowed at the nickname again, but the flush creeping up her neck ruined any attempt at looking annoyed. She stepped forward instead—slow, deliberate—until the toes of her sneakers bumped Lynn’s.

“You keep saying that like it’s supposed to make me behave.”

Lynn’s hands found ShiOn’s waist, fingers slipping under the hem of her cropped top just enough to brush warm skin. She didn’t push, didn’t pull. Just rested there, thumbs stroking once, slow arcs along the dip above ShiOn’s hipbones.

“Maybe I don’t want you to behave.”

ShiOn inhaled sharply through her nose. Her own hands moved without thinking—sliding up Lynn’s arms, over her shoulders, fingertips catching on the damp ends of Lynn’s hair before settling at the nape of her neck.

“You’re so annoying,” she muttered, but she was already leaning in, nose brushing Lynn’s.

Lynn hummed low in her throat.

“You like it.”

ShiOn didn’t deny it.

Instead she closed the last inch and kissed her—harder than before, all teeth and tongue and pent-up energy from the entire rainy afternoon. Lynn met her halfway, one hand sliding up ShiOn’s spine under her shirt while the other stayed low, thumb pressing just inside the waistband of ShiOn’s skirt.

ShiOn made a small, involuntary sound against Lynn’s mouth. Her hips rocked forward on instinct, chasing the pressure of Lynn’s thigh that had slipped between her legs sometime in the last few seconds.

Lynn broke the kiss with a soft laugh against ShiOn’s jaw.

“Already?”

“Shut up,” ShiOn breathed, but her fingers were already tugging at the collar of Lynn’s hoodie, trying to pull it over her head.

Lynn helped—lifting her arms so the hoodie came off in one messy motion. Underneath she wore only a thin black sports bra that left very little to the imagination, especially now that it was clinging slightly from the earlier rain.

ShiOn’s eyes dropped immediately.

Lynn caught the look and smirked.

“Like what you see?”

ShiOn didn’t answer with words. She leaned in and kissed the side of Lynn’s neck instead—open-mouthed, slow, letting her teeth graze just enough to make Lynn’s breath hitch.

Lynn’s head tipped back against the door with a quiet thud.

“Fuck…”

ShiOn smiled against her skin.

“That’s more like it.”

Her hands slid down Lynn’s sides, nails dragging lightly over ribs before settling on her hips. She tugged Lynn forward until their bodies pressed flush together—chest to chest, thigh to thigh.

Lynn groaned softly.

“You’re gonna kill me.”

“Good,” ShiOn whispered. “Payback for all the princess bullshit.”

Lynn laughed—low, rough—and suddenly reversed their positions in one smooth movement. ShiOn’s back hit the door now, the cool metal a shock against her heated skin. Lynn caged her there with both arms braced on either side of her head.

Their faces were inches apart again.

ShiOn’s pupils were blown wide.

Lynn’s voice came out darker than before.

“You’re so pretty when you’re trying to act tough.”

ShiOn opened her mouth to argue—

A loud knock rattled the door right behind her head.

Both of them froze.

A muffled voice came through the wood—probably one of the staff assistants.

“Hello? Is someone in there? We need the extra light stand from this room!”

ShiOn’s eyes went comically wide.

Lynn pressed a single finger to ShiOn’s lips, silently telling her to stay quiet.

The knock came again, a little harder.

“Anyone?”

Lynn leaned in until her mouth was right against ShiOn’s ear.

“Shh,” she breathed, so soft it was barely sound. “They’ll go away.”

ShiOn’s heart was hammering so loud she was sure the person outside could hear it.

Seconds dragged.

Then footsteps retreated down the hallway.

Lynn waited another full ten-count before exhaling slowly.

She pulled back just enough to look at ShiOn’s face.

ShiOn’s cheeks were flaming.

“You okay?” Lynn whispered.

ShiOn nodded once—jerky.

Then she grabbed the front of Lynn’s sports bra and yanked her forward again.

Their mouths crashed together—desperate, messy, all the built-up tension from the last five minutes pouring out at once.

Lynn groaned into the kiss, hands sliding down to grip ShiOn’s thighs. She lifted just enough to get ShiOn’s legs wrapped around her waist, pressing her harder against the door.

ShiOn whimpered—quiet, needy—fingers digging into Lynn’s shoulders.

Lynn broke away long enough to speak against her throat.

“Still want to keep going?”

ShiOn nodded frantically.

“Please.”

Lynn kissed her once more—deep, claiming—then started walking backward toward the bench, carrying ShiOn with her.

Lynn’s back hit the door again when ShiOn pushed forward, the momentum soft but insistent. The changing room felt even smaller now—walls close, air thick with the leftover scent of hairspray and the faint wet-earth smell that still clung to both of them from outside.

ShiOn’s hands were already under the hem of Lynn’s oversized cardigan, pushing it up and off her shoulders in one impatient tug. The green-and-white striped fabric caught briefly on Lynn’s elbows before sliding down her arms and pooling on the floor. Underneath was only the thin, slightly sheer white camisole from the shoot—loose straps slipping off one shoulder, the lace trim already damp and clinging to the curve of her chest from the earlier rain.

ShiOn paused for half a second, eyes dropping.

Lynn caught the look and let her head tip back against the wood with a quiet laugh.

“Like the view?”

ShiOn didn’t answer right away. Instead she dragged her palms up Lynn’s sides—slow, deliberate—fingers catching on the ribbed fabric before slipping under the camisole hem. Skin met skin. Lynn’s stomach jumped at the contact.

“You’re still wet,” ShiOn murmured, thumb brushing the underside of Lynn’s breast through the thin lace.

Lynn’s breath hitched.

“So are you.”

ShiOn’s top—the off-shoulder brown ribbed thing with the little white bows at the sleeves—was already askew from earlier movement. Lynn hooked two fingers under one of the loose ribbons and tugged lightly.

“This is cute,” she said, voice low. “But it’s in my way.”

ShiOn’s laugh came out shaky.

“Then take it off.”

Lynn didn’t need to be told twice.

She gathered the hem in both hands and peeled it upward. ShiOn lifted her arms to help, the fabric sliding over her head and leaving her hair even more mussed than before. Underneath she wore nothing but a simple black bralette—thin straps, soft cups that did almost nothing to hide how hard her nipples were from the cold and the tension.

Lynn’s eyes darkened.

She dropped the top somewhere behind her without looking.

ShiOn’s hands were back on Lynn immediately—sliding up under the camisole again, this time pushing it higher until the lace caught on the swell of Lynn’s breasts. Lynn lifted her arms; the camisole came off in a whisper of fabric and landed next to the cardigan.

Now they were both topless.

Chest to chest.

Skin still cool from the rain but rapidly heating where they touched.

ShiOn’s fingers traced the line of Lynn’s collarbone, then dipped lower, circling one nipple with her thumb until Lynn sucked in a sharp breath.

“You’re sensitive here,” ShiOn whispered, almost to herself.

Lynn’s head fell forward until her forehead rested against ShiOn’s.

“Don’t tease.”

ShiOn smiled against her jaw.

“But you like it.”

She pinched lightly—just enough to make Lynn’s hips jerk forward.

Lynn retaliated by sliding one hand down ShiOn’s back, fingers dipping under the waistband of her high-waisted denim shorts. The denim was stiff and damp; Lynn popped the button open with a flick of her thumb.

ShiOn gasped.

“You’re bold today.”

Lynn kissed the corner of her mouth.

“You started it.”

The zipper came down next—slow, loud in the quiet room. Lynn’s hand slipped inside, palm flat against ShiOn’s lower stomach, fingers brushing the edge of her underwear.

ShiOn’s thighs tensed.

Lynn paused there—didn’t go further.

Just let her hand rest, warm and heavy.

ShiOn whimpered—soft, involuntary.

“Mean,” she breathed.

Lynn kissed her neck.

“Patience.”

ShiOn’s hands moved to Lynn’s skirt next—the green-and-white striped one, already riding up from earlier movement. She pushed it higher, bunching the fabric at Lynn’s waist, exposing the black lace panties underneath.

Lynn inhaled sharply when ShiOn’s fingers traced the edge of the lace.

“You’re soaked,” ShiOn murmured, voice rough.

Lynn’s laugh was low.

“Your fault.”

ShiOn pressed closer, thigh sliding between Lynn’s legs again. The friction made both of them groan quietly.

They rocked together—slow, grinding—hands roaming, mouths meeting in messy, open kisses. Fabric bunched, zippers half-undone, underwear pushed aside just enough to tease.

Lynn’s fingers finally slipped under the waistband of ShiOn’s panties—slow, exploratory—brushing over wet heat.

ShiOn’s knees buckled slightly.

Lynn caught her waist with her free hand.

“Easy.”

ShiOn’s forehead dropped to Lynn’s shoulder.

“Don’t stop.”

Lynn didn’t.

She stroked once—light, barely there—then circled slowly.

ShiOn’s hips rolled forward into the touch.

A soft, needy sound escaped her.

Lynn kissed her temple.

“Good girl.”

ShiOn shivered at the praise.

Her own hand mirrored the movement—sliding into Lynn’s underwear, fingers finding slick warmth.

Lynn’s breath punched out.

“Fuck…”

They moved together now—slow, synced, hands working each other with careful, teasing pressure. Thighs pressed tight, breaths mingling, quiet moans swallowed by kisses.

Then—

Voices in the hallway.

Close.

“—swear I heard something from this room earlier.”

Both of them froze.

Lynn’s hand stilled inside ShiOn’s shorts.

ShiOn’s fingers clenched on Lynn’s hip.

They didn’t breathe.

The voices paused outside the door.

A knock—light, testing.

“Hello?”

Silence.

Then footsteps moving away again.

ShiOn exhaled shakily against Lynn’s neck.

“That was close.”

Lynn kissed her jaw.

“Worth it.”

ShiOn laughed—breathless, disbelieving.

“You’re insane.”

Lynn’s fingers moved again—slow circle, deeper pressure.

ShiOn’s head fell back against the door with a quiet thud.

“Keep going,” she whispered.

Lynn smiled against her throat.

“Thought you’d never ask.”

Hands sped up.

Mouths met again—desperate, wet, urgent.

Clothes pushed lower—shorts tugged halfway down thighs, skirts rucked up to waists, underwear shoved aside.

Skin slid against skin.

Fingers curled.

Hips rocked.

Quiet gasps turned into muffled moans pressed into each other’s shoulders.

The rain outside kept falling.

Covering every sound they made.

ShiOn’s back met the door again when Lynn pressed forward, the cool metal a sharp contrast to the heat building between them. Their mouths found each other immediately—open, messy, no hesitation this time. Lynn’s tongue slid against ShiOn’s in slow, deliberate strokes while her hands roamed down ShiOn’s sides, thumbs hooking into the belt loops of those high-waisted denim shorts.

ShiOn broke the kiss with a soft gasp, forehead dropping to Lynn’s shoulder.

“You’re shaking,” Lynn murmured against her neck, lips brushing skin as she spoke.

ShiOn huffed a laugh that came out more like a whimper.

“Your fault.”

Lynn smiled into the crook of ShiOn’s neck, kissing once—open-mouthed, slow—before her hands slid lower. She popped the button on ShiOn’s shorts again (it had already been undone earlier) and dragged the zipper down inch by inch. The sound was loud in the quiet room.

ShiOn’s hips twitched forward instinctively.

Lynn didn’t push the shorts down yet. She just slipped one hand inside—palm flat against ShiOn’s lower stomach, fingers splayed over the soft cotton of her underwear. She didn’t go further. Just let the warmth of her hand sink in.

ShiOn’s breath hitched.

“Lynn…”

Lynn kissed her jaw.

“Tell me what you want.”

ShiOn’s hands were already working on Lynn’s skirt—the green-and-white striped one bunched at her waist from earlier. She shoved it higher, exposing the black lace underneath, then slid her palm down the front of Lynn’s thigh, pressing firmly against the inside.

Lynn’s thighs parted slightly on reflex.

ShiOn smiled against her mouth.

“Like that?”

Lynn exhaled sharply.

“Yeah.”

They moved at the same time—instinct, no words needed.

ShiOn shifted her leg between Lynn’s, pressing her thigh up against Lynn’s center in one smooth motion. Lynn mirrored her immediately, sliding her own thigh between ShiOn’s legs until they were locked together—hips aligned, pressure right where they both needed it.

The first grind was slow.

Tentative. Testing.

ShiOn rocked forward first—a small roll of her hips, dragging herself along Lynn’s thigh. The friction through their underwear was immediate and perfect. She let out a soft, shaky “ahh~” against Lynn’s collarbone.

Lynn answered with a low hum and rocked back—matching the rhythm, grinding down so ShiOn’s thigh pressed harder against her.

They found it quickly—the slow, rolling grind that let them rub against each other without rushing. Thighs flexing, hips circling, hands gripping waists and hips to pull each other closer.

Clothes stayed on—mostly.

Shorts and skirts shoved down just enough for access, underwear pushed to the side but not off. The fabric dragged against sensitive skin with every movement adding texture, and everything felt dirtier and more desperate.

ShiOn’s fingers dug into Lynn’s hips and led her forward.

“Harder,” she whispered.

Lynn obliged— pressing her thigh up more firmly, rolling her hips in a slow circle that made ShiOn’s breath stutter.

ShiOn retaliated by grinding down harder, dragging herself along Lynn’s leg with deliberate pressure.

Lynn’s head tipped back against the door with a quiet thud.

“Fuck… just like that.”

ShiOn leaned in, kissed her throat— open-mouthed, slow licks along the pulse point— while her hips kept moving. The pace built naturally: slow grinds turning into deeper rolls, thighs flexing, underwear going wetter and wetter with every pass that she made.

Their breathing turned ragged—soft moans swallowed by kisses, little gasps pressed into each other’s shoulders.

Lynn’s hand slid up ShiOn’s back under her bralette, tracing her spine before grabbing the nape of her neck in a grip, holding her waist and holding her close.

ShiOn’s nails dragged lightly down Lynn’s sides—enough to leave faint red lines that would fade in minutes. Neither of them sped up.

They kept it slow—agonizingly slow—building the heat between them without chasing the finish. Just feeling each other. The slide of skin on skin, the wet drag of fabric, the way their thighs trembled every time they pressed harder.

ShiOn’s mouth found Lynn’s ear. “You feel so good…”

Lynn’s hips stuttered at the words. “You too… princess.”

ShiOn shivered at the nickname—soft, rare, said like a secret.

She rocked down harder in response.

Lynn groaned low in her throat.

They stayed like that—locked together, grinding slow and deep, hands roaming, mouths meeting in wet, lazy kisses.

The rain outside kept falling. Covering every sound.

They didn’t rush. They didn’t cum.

They just kept going—lost in the slow, filthy rhythm of each other’s bodies.

ShiOn’s hands slid higher up Lynn’s back as they ground together, her fingers tracing the curve of her spine before dipping lower to grip her hips. The friction between their thighs was building into something electric—slow rolls that made every brush of fabric and skin feel like a spark. ShiOn’s breath came out in short, uneven puffs against Lynn’s neck, her twintails tickling Lynn’s shoulder with each movement.

Lynn shifted her weight slightly, pressing her thigh higher between ShiOn’s legs until the denim of ShiOn’s shorts rode up further, the fur trim brushing against Lynn’s bare skin. She rolled her hips in a deliberate circle—slow at first, then with a little more pressure, letting the muscle in her thigh flex against ShiOn’s core.

ShiOn’s head fell back with a quiet gasp.

“That… keep doing that.”

Lynn smiled against her throat and did it again—circling wider this time, grinding up in a way that dragged the full length of her thigh along ShiOn. The lace of Lynn’s panties had slipped aside enough that the direct contact made her own breath hitch.

ShiOn mirrored the motion almost immediately, her thigh pressing back with equal force. She started with small, teasing grinds—forward and back, letting the striped skirt bunch higher around Lynn’s waist until the green fabric was nothing but a rumpled barrier. Her hands slipped under the waistband of Lynn’s skirt, palms flat against her ass to pull her closer, guiding the rhythm.

The standing position made everything feel more urgent—the way their bodies had to balance against each other, legs tangled, hands gripping for stability. Lynn’s green sneakers scraped softly against the floor as she adjusted her stance, widening it just enough to let ShiOn slot in tighter.

ShiOn’s off-shoulder top had slipped down one arm, the white bow ribbon dangling loose and brushing Lynn’s chest with every rock. Lynn leaned in and kissed the exposed shoulder—soft at first, then with a graze of teeth that made ShiOn’s hips stutter.

“You’re so warm,” Lynn whispered, her voice low and rough.

ShiOn’s response was to grind down harder, circling her thigh in a slow, deliberate twist that pressed right where Lynn needed it. Lynn’s knees weakened for a second, her grip tightening on ShiOn’s waist.

“Like that?” ShiOn asked, breath hot against Lynn’s ear.

Lynn nodded, words failing as she matched the movement—thighs sliding, pressing, the wet heat between them growing slicker with every pass. The fur trim on ShiOn’s shorts added a soft, teasing texture against Lynn’s inner thigh, making her shiver.

They kept it slow—drawn-out grinds that built the ache without rushing, hands exploring exposed skin. Lynn’s fingers traced the line of ShiOn’s bralette strap, tugging it down just enough to kiss the swell of her breast. ShiOn arched into it, her own hands pushing Lynn’s skirt higher until it was completely rucked up, panties fully exposed and damp.

Footsteps echoed down the hallway outside—quick, passing by without stopping.

They both froze for half a second, breaths held, bodies still pressed tight.

The steps faded.

ShiOn exhaled shakily.

“Close.”

Lynn kissed her—deep, distracting—before whispering against her lips.

“Want to try something?”

ShiOn nodded, eyes dark and half-lidded.

Lynn maneuvered them slightly—guiding ShiOn’s leg higher until their cores aligned more directly. She widened her stance, pulling ShiOn flush against her so their underwear pressed together without the barrier of thighs. Standing like this, legs intertwined, they could scissor slow and close—hips rolling in tandem, slick heat sliding directly against each other.

The first grind in the new position made them both gasp.

ShiOn’s hands clutched Lynn’s shoulders for balance, her twintails falling forward as she rocked down—slow, testing. The direct contact was overwhelming, lace against lace, wetness making everything glide too easily.

Lynn’s grip shifted to ShiOn’s ass, helping guide the motion—up and forward, then down in a circle that pressed their clits together through the thin fabric.

ShiOn’s moan was soft but raw.

“Oh… yeah…”

Lynn kissed her neck, tasting salt and rain.

“Princess,” she murmured—just once, rare and quiet, like a secret.

ShiOn shivered hard at the word, her hips stuttering before picking up the rhythm again—deeper now, grinding in slow, deliberate waves that made their breaths sync into ragged pants.

They stayed like that—standing, tangled, scissoring slow and filthy—clothes half-off, hands everywhere, the ache building higher without tipping over. The rain outside muffled their quiet sounds, but the tension coiled tighter with every slide and press.

ShiOn’s shorts were already halfway down her thighs from earlier—denim bunched awkwardly at mid-thigh, the fur trim tickling Lynn’s skin every time they shifted. Lynn hooked her fingers into the waistband and tugged them the rest of the way down in one slow, deliberate pull. ShiOn stepped out of them without breaking eye contact, kicking the shorts aside so they landed in a damp heap next to the discarded cardigan.

Lynn’s skirt followed next—ShiOn’s hands quick but careful as she unhooked the belt and shoved the green-and-white stripes down Lynn’s legs. The fabric pooled at their ankles; Lynn stepped free, leaving them both in nothing but underwear and half-pushed-down socks.

The air in the small room felt heavier now—humid from their breathing and the lingering rain scent on their skin.

ShiOn reached for Lynn first.

She slid her hand between Lynn’s thighs, palm cupping the damp lace of her panties. Lynn’s hips jerked forward on instinct, a quiet “ah~” slipping out before she caught it.

ShiOn kissed her immediately—deep, swallowing the sound—while her fingers pushed the lace aside. She didn’t tease this time. Middle and ring fingers slid through slick heat, slow at first, coating themselves before pressing inside in one smooth motion.

Lynn’s moan vibrated against ShiOn’s lips—low, muffled, barely audible over the rain outside. Her thighs trembled, clamping around ShiOn’s wrist as those two fingers curled upward, stroking the front wall in a steady, deliberate rhythm.

ShiOn pulled back just enough to whisper against her mouth.

“Quiet… or they’ll hear.”

Lynn nodded, eyes glassy, and kissed her again—harder, tongues sliding together to stifle any noise. Her own hand mirrored the movement—pushing ShiOn’s underwear aside, middle and ring fingers sinking in deep. ShiOn’s back arched, a soft, choked whimper swallowed by Lynn’s mouth.

They moved together like that—slow, synced, fingers curling and thrusting in matching rhythm. Thumbs occasionally brushed over swollen clits, drawing out sharper, quieter gasps that they immediately muffled with deeper kisses.

Sweat beaded along ShiOn’s hairline, a thin sheen appearing across her collarbone and the dip between her breasts. Lynn’s skin felt the same—warm, slick, the faint salt taste on her neck when ShiOn kissed lower for a second before returning to her mouth.

Their free hands roamed—gripping hips, sliding up backs, tangling in hair—keeping each other close, chests pressed tight so every breath was shared.

Lynn’s fingers sped up slightly—curling harder, pressing deeper—making ShiOn’s knees buckle. ShiOn retaliated by twisting her wrist, stroking the same sensitive spot inside Lynn until Lynn’s moan turned into a desperate, barely-contained “mmph~” against ShiOn’s tongue.

They kissed through it—wet, open-mouthed, swallowing every sound.

Sweat rolled down ShiOn’s temple; Lynn licked it away without thinking, tasting salt and heat.

ShiOn’s hips rocked down onto Lynn’s hand—small, helpless rolls that matched the slow pump of her own fingers inside Lynn.

Neither of them spoke.

They didn’t need to.

Just the wet sounds of their fingers moving, the soft, muffled moans pressed into each other’s mouths, the rain outside covering everything else.

The tension coiled tighter—slow, aching, building without release.

They kept going—fingers deep, thumbs circling, kisses turning sloppier, sweatier, more desperate—chasing that edge together without tipping over.

Lynn's fingers curled deeper inside ShiOn—middle and ring pressing firm against that spot that made ShiOn's thighs clench around her wrist. ShiOn's back arched off the door, her own fingers matching the rhythm inside Lynn, twisting just enough to draw a low, ragged sound from Lynn's throat.

"Nngh~" ShiOn mewled softly, the noise muffled against Lynn's mouth as they kissed again—wet, urgent, tongues sliding to swallow each other's breaths. Her free hand clutched at Lynn's shoulder, nails digging in as sweat started to bead along her hairline, a thin sheen glistening on her chest where the black bralette had slipped lower.

Lynn broke the kiss with a gasp, her forehead pressing against ShiOn's. "Haah~ you feel so good… so tight around me."

ShiOn's response was a high-pitched whimper as she rocked her hips down onto Lynn's hand, fingers curling harder inside Lynn in retaliation. Lynn's knees buckled slightly, a deep "Ughhh" rumbling from her chest, drawn out and shaky, like the tension had coiled too tight in her core.

Sweat trickled down Lynn's back now, making her skin slick where ShiOn's palm pressed flat against it. The room felt hotter, the air thick with their shared heat and the faint salt taste on their lips.

ShiOn's eyes fluttered open one second— dark as it looked, hazy and blurry. “ Wait… my bag.”

Lynn slowed down her fingers but didn’t stop— kept them moving in lazy curls that made ShiOn squirm. “ What?

ShiOn glanced at the corner where her small shoot bag was left on the bench. “ In there… side pocket.”

Lynn's curiosity took hold. She moved one hand free slowly— wet fingers glistening up— when ShiOn said “Mmmph” not too happily at the loss. Lynn crossed in half a step: it was into the small room and out the side pocket I went: a black bullet vibe— discreet, if I wasn’t looking too close and would work like lipstick.

She turned back with a raised eyebrow. “ You brought this to a shoot?

ShiOn's cheeks flushed deeper but she didn't look embarrassed. “ For emergencies… like long days.

Lynn's laugh was low and teasing. "This counts as an emergency?

ShiOn reached out and grabbed Lynn's wrist to pull her back. “ Shut up and use it,” she said.

Lynn turned on the vibe, lowering it to a low level and creating a soft buzz. She started softly pinning ShiOn’s thigh first– she wanted to tingle, but it was also great to move it up to ShiOn’s skin with nothing tangible about touching her. Suddenly ShiOn's legs opened wide and she said a soft “Ooh~” when she bit her lip.

Lynn kissed her again—slow and hard—and laid the vibe flat against ShiOn's clit when she took it and pressed it through the thin fabric of her underwear, pressing it towards ShiOn’s clit down into her underwear. ShiOn jerked her hips, her thighs moving toward Lynn at an urgency of the way she did and with longer thrusts of the feel-making.

Lynn's own moan occurred too: “ughhh~”; her free hand clamped against the door when ShiOn’s fingers curled just right. Sweat rolled down Lynn's temple now, dripping onto ShiOn's collarbone where it mixed with her own glistening skin.

ShiOn grabbed the vibe from Lynn's hand, flipping the script without a word. She clicked it up a notch—buzz stronger now—and pressed it against Lynn's inner thigh, teasing upward until it nestled right against her clit. Lynn's knees nearly gave out, a deep "Mmmngh~" rumbling from her chest as she ground down against it.

They kissed through the vibrations—moans blending, bodies slick with sweat, fingers still buried deep and moving in tandem. ShiOn's sounds pitched higher, quick and needy, while Lynn's stayed lower, more guttural "guhhh~" drawn out like she was fighting to stay quiet.

The toy buzzed between them, passed back and forth like a secret, pressing against thighs, clits, even sliding along the base of fingers still thrusting slow and deep. Sweat made everything slicker—skin sticking where they pressed together, breaths hot and shared.

Lynn’s fingers were still buried deep inside ShiOn—middle and ring curled just right, stroking that sensitive spot in slow, steady pulls that made ShiOn’s thighs tremble around her wrist. ShiOn’s own hand mirrored the motion inside Lynn, wrist twisting slightly on every thrust, thumb occasionally brushing over Lynn’s clit to draw out sharper, quieter sounds.

ShiOn’s head tipped back against the door, a low “Ughhh~” rumbling from her chest—rough, drawn-out, barely muffled by the way she bit her lip right after. Sweat rolled down the side of her neck, catching the dim light from the single bulb overhead.

Lynn leaned in and kissed the spot where the sweat had gathered, tongue flicking out to taste salt and heat. “Fuck… you’re so wet,” she whispered against ShiOn’s skin, voice wrecked.

ShiOn’s response was a soft “Mgh”—short, needy—as her fingers pressed deeper inside Lynn, curling hard enough to make Lynn’s hips jerk forward. Lynn’s moan came out muffled against ShiOn’s shoulder—“Ahhh”—long and shaky, the sound vibrating through both of them.

They kept the rhythm slow—agonizingly slow—fingers sliding in and out in perfect sync, thumbs circling clits with feather-light pressure that built the ache without letting it break. Sweat made their skin slick where chests pressed together, breasts brushing with every small rock of their hips. The black bralette ShiOn still wore had slipped down completely now, straps tangled around her elbows; Lynn’s camisole was long gone, leaving her bare and flushed.

ShiOn’s free hand slid up to cup the back of Lynn’s neck, pulling her in for another kiss—open-mouthed, tongues sliding lazily while their fingers kept working. A quiet “Baby~” slipped from ShiOn’s lips between kisses—soft, almost pleading—before Lynn swallowed it with her own mouth.

ShiOn curled her fingers harder in response, stroking that exact spot until Lynn’s thighs clamped around her wrist, a deep “Ugh~ fuck—” punching out of her chest. Lynn’s forehead dropped to ShiOn’s shoulder, breathing ragged, sweat dripping from her temple onto ShiOn’s collarbone.

ShiOn mewled softly—high and needy—her own hips rocking down onto Lynn’s hand in small, helpless circles. “Mgh… so good…”

They kissed again—sloppy, desperate—moans blending into each other’s mouths. Lynn’s fingers sped up just a fraction—still slow enough to tease, but deeper now, pressing insistently against that front wall until ShiOn’s knees buckled slightly. ShiOn answered by twisting her wrist, fingers scissoring inside Lynn while her thumb pressed firm circles over Lynn’s clit.

They stayed locked like that—fingers deep, thumbs teasing, mouths meeting in wet, open kisses that swallowed every sound. Quiet moans spilled between them—“Ugh”, “Mgh”, “Fuck”, “Ahhh”—each one softer than the last, pressed into skin or muffled by lips.

Sweat dripped from Lynn’s brow onto ShiOn’s chest; ShiOn licked it away without thinking, tasting salt and heat. Their bodies rocked together in slow, filthy waves—fingers curling, thumbs circling, hips grinding just enough to keep the edge sharp without tipping over.

Neither of them spoke anymore.

They didn’t need to.

Just the wet sounds of their fingers moving, the soft, muffled moans pressed into each other’s mouths, the rain outside covering everything else.

The tension coiled tighter—slow, aching, building without release.

They kept going—fingers deep, thumbs teasing, kisses turning sloppier, sweatier, more desperate—chasing that edge together without tipping over.

Lynn’s fingers were buried to the knuckle inside ShiOn—middle and ring curled tight, stroking that front wall in slow, firm drags that made ShiOn’s thighs quake around her wrist. ShiOn mirrored her exactly—fingers deep in Lynn, twisting slightly on every upstroke, thumb pressing hard circles over Lynn’s clit with just enough pressure to keep her teetering.

Sweat rolled down ShiOn’s temple, dripping onto Lynn’s collarbone where it mixed with the thin sheen already covering both of them. Their chests slid together—slick, hot—nipples brushing with every small rock of their hips, sending sharp little sparks up their spines.

ShiOn’s breath came out in ragged bursts against Lynn’s mouth. “Ughhh~ fuck… right there…”

Lynn swallowed the sound with a messy kiss, tongue sliding deep to muffle them both. Her own moan vibrated into ShiOn’s mouth—“Mgh~ baby—” low and wrecked, hips grinding down onto ShiOn’s hand like she couldn’t help it.

They didn’t speed up.

They kept it torturously slow—fingers thrusting deep and steady, thumbs circling clits in lazy, relentless loops. The wet sounds of their hands moving filled the small room, slick and obscene under the steady rain outside. Sweat made everything glide easier—skin sticking where they pressed together, breaths hot and shared.

ShiOn broke the kiss first, forehead dropping to Lynn’s shoulder. “Ahhh~ Lynn… I’m so close…”

Lynn’s free hand slid up ShiOn’s back, fingers tangling in one of her twintails to tug her head back gently. She kissed the exposed line of ShiOn’s throat—open-mouthed, slow licks along the pulse point—while her fingers curled harder inside her.

“Me too,” Lynn whispered against her skin. “Feel you squeezing… shit~”

ShiOn mewled softly—high and needy—her hips rocking down onto Lynn’s hand in small, helpless circles. Her fingers sped up just a fraction inside Lynn—still controlled, but deeper now, pressing insistently against that spot until Lynn’s thighs clamped tight around her wrist.

Lynn’s moan was guttural—“Ugh~ fuck fuck—” muffled against ShiOn’s neck as she bit down lightly, trying to stay quiet. Sweat dripped from her brow onto ShiOn’s chest; ShiOn licked it away without thinking, tasting salt and heat.

The tension snapped at the same time.

ShiOn came first—hips bucking hard, a choked “Ughhh~ shit—” punching out of her chest as her walls clenched tight around Lynn’s fingers. She trembled violently, thighs shaking, fingers stuttering inside Lynn as the orgasm rolled through her in slow, heavy waves.

Lynn followed right behind—her own climax hitting like a punch, a deep “Ahhh~ fuck—” rumbling from her throat as she ground down hard onto ShiOn’s hand. Her walls pulsed around ShiOn’s fingers, slick heat gushing over them while her hips jerked in small, helpless rolls.

They clung to each other—sweaty, shaking—fingers still buried deep, thumbs still pressed against swollen clits, riding out the aftershocks together. Quiet, broken moans spilled between them—“Mgh”, “Ugh”, “Baby~”—soft and wrecked, muffled against necks and shoulders.

Sweat dripped down their backs, between their chests, making skin stick where they pressed together. Their breathing was loud in the small room—ragged, uneven—slowly evening out as the waves faded.

Lynn kissed ShiOn’s temple—soft, lingering—while their fingers stayed inside each other, gentle now, just feeling the last flutters.

ShiOn’s voice was hoarse when she finally spoke.

“…holy shit.”

Lynn laughed quietly against her hair.

“Yeah.”

They stayed like that—bodies tangled, fingers still buried, foreheads pressed together—catching their breath while the rain kept falling outside.

The cramped changing room seemed even more confined now—air heavy with perspiration, vanilla fragrance spray, and the subtle, persistent aroma of intimacy. The solitary overhead light hummed gently above, creating elongated shadows on the floor where neglected garments were strewn in a moist, twisted pile: Lynn’s green-and-white striped skirt, ShiOn’s high-waisted denim shorts with the fur trim, the brown off-shoulder top adorned with tiny white ribbon bows, Lynn’s sheer camisole, ShiOn’s black bralette—all crumpled and disregarded.

ShiOn reclined against the wall, breathing heavily, legs unsteady. Moisture shimmered on her collarbone and between her breasts, a delicate layer that reflected the light with each breath she took. Her twin tails were utterly destroyed—hair strands askew and adhering to her neck, bows partially undone. She appeared euphoric and shattered in the most delightful manner.

Lynn positioned herself a step back, her forehead leaning against the door, eyes shut as she regained her breath. Moisture trickled down the side of her face, falling from her chin. Her long black hair was disheveled—partially undone from its ponytail, bangs stuck to her forehead. The black lace panties remained pushed aside, the skirt hiked up around her waist

For a long minute, neither of them moved.

Just breathing.

Then ShiOn laughed—soft, breathless, almost disbelieving.

“Holy shit.”

Lynn opened her eyes, turning her head to look at her.

“Yeah.”

ShiOn pushed off the wall on unsteady legs and stepped closer. She reached up and brushed a damp strand of hair from Lynn’s face, thumb lingering on her cheek.

“You okay?”

Lynn caught her hand and kissed the palm.

“Better than okay.”

ShiOn smiled—small, shy now that the heat had faded a little.

“We’re a mess.”

Lynn glanced down at herself, then at ShiOn. “Understatement.”

They moved slowly, like their bodies were still recalibrating.

ShiOn bent to pick up her shorts first—denim stiff and damp from earlier rain and now other things. She stepped into them carefully, zipping and buttoning with slightly trembling fingers. The fur trim looked even more ridiculous now, matted slightly at the edges.

Lynn tugged her skirt back down, smoothing the green-and-white stripes over her hips. She found her camisole next—slipped it over her head, the sheer fabric clinging immediately to her still-damp skin. The lace trim sat crooked; she didn’t bother fixing it.

ShiOn pulled her bralette back into place, adjusting the straps so they sat on her shoulders again. She finger-combed her twintails as best she could, re-tying the bows with shaky hands. Stray strands still stuck to her neck and cheeks.

Lynn watched her the whole time—quiet, soft-eyed.

ShiOn caught her staring.

“What?”

Lynn stepped closer and kissed her forehead—gentle, lingering.

“Just like looking at you.”

ShiOn’s cheeks flushed again, but she didn’t pull away. Instead she leaned into it for a second before stepping back.

You got to go before you look at someone if you want to get into the room? Just like this.

Lynn nodded. “Yeah.”

They gathered the rest of their things—hoodie, cardigan, stray hair ties--checking each other one last time. ShiOn smoothed Lynn’s bangs back into place. Lynn tugged ShiOn’s skirt straight and fixed one of the bows that had come completely undone.

They looked… mostly presentable.

Hair still messy, lips swollen, cheeks flushed, clothes slightly wrinkled and damp in places they couldn’t fix—but it would pass under dim hallway lights and if no one looked too closely.

ShiOn took a deep breath.

“Ready?”

Lynn laced their fingers together for a second—just a quick squeeze—then let go.

“Ready.”

Lynn unlocked the door first, cracking it open to listen.

The hallway was quiet.

No voices. No footsteps.

They slipped out together, closing the door softly behind them. The corridor was still dim, rain still tapping against the windows, but the main studio lights glowed brighter ahead.

Voices drifted from the main room—Kaede laughing, JiYeon complaining about something, NaKyoung’s teasing tone cutting through.

ShiOn and Lynn walked back in like nothing had happened.

The rest of moon was gathered near the monitors again, looking over the last batch of shots. SoHyun spotted them first.

“There you are! We were about to send a search party.”

ShiOn shrugged, trying to look casual.

“Just… needed a minute. Rain made my makeup run.”

NaKyoung’s eyes narrowed immediately, flicking between them.

“Both of you?”

Lynn didn’t miss a beat.

“Shared crisis.”

JiYeon snorted.

“Likely story.”

Kaede waved them over.

“Come look—these outdoor ones with the rain reflection are insane.”

ShiOn and Lynn joined the circle, shoulders brushing as they leaned in to see the monitor.

The photos were beautiful—rain-slick pavement mirroring soft lights, wet hair and flushed cheeks looking intentional, dreamy. ShiOn’s twintails caught the light perfectly in one shot. Lynn’s anime-girl lenses glowed in another.

NaKyoung leaned closer to ShiOn.

“You two smell like… vanilla and sex.”

ShiOn elbowed her hard.

“Shut up.”

NaKyoung laughed.

“I’m just saying.”

Lynn smirked without looking away from the screen.

“You’re imagining things.”

The group dissolved into easy chatter again—complaining about the rain, praising the shots, and planning how to celebrate SoHyun’s birthday properly once they wrapped.

ShiOn and Lynn stood side by side.

Close enough that their pinkies brushed when no one was looking.

ShiOn glanced sideways.

Lynn met her eyes.

Honestly, I never saw college playing out like this. And there’s no world where I would’ve guessed that the same girl who used to stalk me from the courtyard, always dressed like she belonged in some perfect campus commercial, would end up naked in my bed, screaming my name, moving on me like she owned the place.

Choerry’s got her own kind of energy. Cute as hell, always pulling on her sleeves or playing with her hair, wide brown eyes that go almost cartoon-big when she wants something, and a way of smiling that flashes up out of nowhere and leaves you a little bit dizzy. She’s sweet, almost shy at times, and then suddenly—she can’t decide if she wants to cuddle up or ruin my self-control completely.

It probably sounds harsh to call her crazy, but you’d get it if you saw how she moves through life. Choerry’s not just quirky, she’s relentless, and she looks so soft doing it that nobody ever sees her coming. There’s just something about the way she’ll slip her arms around my waist, act innocent, then say something filthy with that perfect doll’s mouth. It’s a mess, in the best possible way.

Here’s how it really started, not the version I used to tell people. I figured we met halfway through my first semester at Yonsei, when she slid into the seat next to me in Intro to Econs. She had her legs crossed, showing just enough thigh under that tiny skirt, t-shirt stretched across her chest, it’s screaming: “Eyes up here, perv.” No chance I could focus with her sitting there. She noticed me staring, smiled with that mouth that’s way too pretty for her own good, and just like that, I was done for.

At least, that’s how I thought it started. Except the truth is, Choerry found me first. Way before that class. She’d already spotted me during freshman orientation and, by the end of the week, had my whole schedule down cold. She mapped out my usual routes between classes, figured out which café I liked for my afternoon caffeine, and somehow always seemed to be hanging around my dorm just when I was coming back from the gym or a shower. She told me months later she was “just getting to know me,” which sounded totally normal to her, way easier than just saying hi, apparently.

Most days, after cheer practice, she’d swing by the same bus stop I used or linger in the hallway near my room under the excuse of “forgetting something.” and that’s when I realized what a dumbass I’d been, leaving my shades wide open and wandering around in a towel, or nothing.

By the time she’d twisted her schedule to match mine and snuck her way into all my classes, Choerry finally made her move. That shirt, that smile—she knew what she was doing. Later that night, she caught me outside the dorm just past midnight, rain pouring so hard her uniform was practically glued to her skin. She looked up, hair stuck to her cheeks, sleeves swallowed up around her hands, and asked if she could crash at my place. I thought I was being a decent guy letting her in out of the storm. Maybe we’d be friends, maybe more if things went that way. It wasn’t until she tossed her wet panties in my face and crawled straight into my bed that I realized she was never looking for “just friends” or for me to sleep on the floor.

She told me her name was Choerry between gasps and sucking my cock. Honestly, it’s a miracle she even got that much out; she’s a natural at deepthroating, barely flinching as her lips slid all the way down to the base, spit dripping off her chin. Those big, innocent eyes stayed locked up on me the whole time, her throat straining to swallow every inch, cheeks hollowing out while she worked her tongue. I was lucky I didn’t blow right then and there. My roommate was gone that weekend, good thing, because Choerry’s only got two volumes in bed: moaning loud and screaming even louder. Maybe that’s why she’s such a good cheerleader.

She rides me with her back to my chest, bouncing in my lap like she’s competing for gold. Her slim waist twists under my hands, her belly flexing every time she sinks down and grinds her tight little pussy on my cock. I grab her tits from behind, squeezing hard until she’s shuddering, and she just arches into it, not caring at all when I shove her face into the pillow to muffle those wild, desperate screams. If anything, she pushes her ass back harder, soaking me with how wet she gets when I go rough on her.

That girl stayed all weekend, tearing open condoms and stress-testing every piece of furniture I owned. RIP to my old beanbag chair—Choerry rode me on it until the seams split, and she just laughed and straddled me right there on the wreckage. By Sunday, after another round of post-shower fuck sessions that left her skin flushed and my cock throbbing, she rolled over and asked if she could be my girlfriend.

I thought we’d crossed that line when she begged me to cum on her face, kneeling over my stomach, cheeks splattered, licking my cock clean with that same sweet mouth. But apparently, in Choerry’s universe, you have to ask to make it official. So we did—right there, half-buried under the blankets, both of us sweaty, messy, and still panting. She grinned so wide I thought her cheeks would split, then ducked under the covers and took her time “kissing” her new boyfriend everywhere before finally surfacing for air.

That’s how it started for us. Most people go on a few dates before they fuck each other stupid, maybe learn each other’s quirks before acting like animals in heat. Not Choerry. She’s not wired like anyone else; especially when it comes to Christmas.

We’d been going steady two years by then, and by “steady,” I mean she found a new way to wreck me just about every day. Getting used to fingering her under the desk in lecture or juggling calculus homework while she’s grinding her soaked panties into my lap was a whole new skill set, but I learned. Somehow, she kept her grades up and still brought that same chaos to cheer practice, even after staying up all night riding my cock “studying anatomy.” Art major, through and through.

Her madness hit a whole new level last August. I can pin it to the night she stayed over with my roommate holed up in his own room. My place is basically a shoebox, but hers, actually livable—was always packed with her two roommates, Goeun and Yuki, plus whatever guys or girls they dragged home for their own weekend fun. So, we had to keep our “study sessions” on the down low. which meant cranking up the TV and trying not to bash the headboard through the wall.

I hadn’t even registered what was playing on the screen, was too busy slamming Choerry’s perfect ass into my hips, chasing that sweet, sharp pop every time my cock bottomed out in her from behind. Choerry’s back was arched deep, her slim waist flexing with every thrust, little muscles popping out under sweat-slick skin. My hands were wrapped tight around her hips, thumbs pressed into the dimples above her ass, fingers spreading her cheeks wide so I could watch her pussy swallow me, glistening and stretched around my cock.

But Choerry noticed. She locked onto the screen, staring so hard she went stiff, totally silent, frozen on her hands and knees. Out of nowhere, she just stopped, wide-eyed and shaking, her messy hair clinging to her damp cheeks. Totally out of character for her, especially in doggy. Usually, she’s filthy and loud, mouthing off about how deep I’m in her or how much she needs it harder.

Turns out, the TV was running one of those late-night “sexy” documentaries, trying to push boundaries for the late-night crowd. This one was all about human mating. My adorable, unhinged Choerry just stared, transfixed, while they showed a full close-up; sperm racing straight at an egg, the narrator mumbling about how a guy unloads the biggest load when he knows a woman’s fertile. I could feel her breathing pick up, her whole body trembling under my grip, and her pussy got even wetter, squeezing me tight enough I had to clench my jaw not to lose it.

I kept pounding into her, each thrust making her little waist jerk forward, my cock dragging out of her soaked pussy and slamming back in, balls bouncing off her thighs. Choerry didn’t make a sound. She just stared at the screen, hypnotized, right until the documentary hit the money shot: sperm bursting into the glowing egg.

That’s when she finally broke. Her mouth dropped open, lips slick and trembling, and her eyes rolled back hard. She went off; whole body locking up, back bowed, ass pressing against me as she squirted around my cock. Hot, soaking wet, drenching the sheets and my thighs, sticky all over her tight little belly. Her pussy kept clenching, squeezing every inch of me, milking out every last spurt as I lost it, groaning and shooting deep inside her. Even after I started to pull out, she just kept cumming, shaking, and twitching, leaving a glistening mess all the way down her thighs. She collapsed face-down, panting, a line of drool smearing the pillow, her belly and navel slick with sweat and cum.

I swear, that was the moment Choerry snapped and caught full-blown baby fever. Not the cute, playful kind—no, this was third-degree, breeding-crazy obsession. Every night after that, she’d beg me to lose the condoms, voice all wrecked and desperate, talking about wanting to feel it for real. Tempting as hell. All I could think about was pushing bare into that soft-shaven, dripping pussy, feeling her clamp down and milk me raw. But Choerry’s legendary for being absolute shit at the pill. She made it crystal clear, too—I caught her one afternoon humming while she tossed her birth control, one by one, into the trash, just smirking at me over her shoulder.

After a couple weeks of me holding the line, refusing to risk it, my box of ribbed condoms went missing; then turned up tied together into a rainbow skirt, strung low around Choerry’s hips. She was actually wearing the thing when I got home, spinning around naked, her tiny waist flexing with every laugh. She even plucked one off the string and handed it to me, dead serious. “Just to be safe.” For the record, seeing her do a little twirl in that mess had me running to the convenience store for a new box faster than I ever have in my life.

Trying to keep my condoms hidden from Choerry’s “art projects” turned into a regular battle. But honestly, that was barely the tip of it. At some point, she started leaving baby name lists on my pillow, circled her favorites in pink highlighter, and even texted me pictures of cribs with the caption “future investment?” She was relentless; half of it a joke, but there was always that glint in her eye that made me wonder just how serious she actually was.

That’s not even the half of it. Every other day, I’d come home to find Choerry prancing around my place in nothing but her cheer skirt and a t-shirt stretched tight over a little pillow she’d jammed under it, making her slim belly bulge out. She’d squeal the second she saw me, bouncing across the floor on bare feet, “Look what you did to me!” she’d squeal, shoving her fake bump at me, “You made me a mommy! Come here and feel it!” She’d wiggle her hips, her flat stomach jutting out, not a pair of panties in sight; just slick, shiny thighs, juice running down. Sometimes there’d be a glistening trail on the floor and the pillow flung somewhere in the mess.

And when I finally caved and rolled on a condom, she’d clamp her legs around my waist, her tight little pussy clenching down so hard I’d worry the rubber would snap off. She’d scream at me, “Do it! Spray my little eggs with your sperm! Make me a cute mommy!” like I was breeding her for real, right there. The way she’d gush, and bucking, I actually started worrying her pussy might rip the condom off with how hard she came.

All this just kept getting more until Christmas Eve. We’d just finished a party at her place, wrapping paper everywhere, empty egg nog cartons littering the floor and table. Goeun and Yuki had already crashed; sharing a bed, and from the noise behind their door, not bothering to keep it quiet. Now it was just me and Choerry, tangled up together on the carpet, half dressed and laughing our asses off.

“Hey, you still owe me a present,” Choerry whispered, pressing her back against my chest, gifts scattered everywhere in front of us—cute stuff, dirty stuff, the whole neon pile of vibrating toys catching the glow from the Christmas lights.

“I do?” I leaned over her, peering past her bare shoulder at the mess. “Pretty sure you got everything tonight… unless your roommates made off with something.” Judging by the sounds coming from their room, they were too busy to care about presents.

Choerry giggled and pulled my arms tighter around her, hugging me close like I was her favorite blanket. “Mm-mm, you do. I know you’ve got one more for me…” She slid my hands up under her blouse, no bra in the way, just soft skin and nipples already stiff, pressing into my palms. “But first, you’ve got to unwrap one more little present of mine.” Fuck, she knew exactly how to set me off. My cock jerked hard under her, already straining my sweats, and she ground herself back against the bulge, little moans slipping from her lips as I squeezed her tits—small, perfect, her nipples pebbled and hot in my hands.

“So, should I unwrap you right here, or wait for Santa to come later?” I could barely form a thought, let alone a sentence. Her pussy was already soaking through my sweats, and all I wanted was to drag her down onto the shredded wrapping paper and fuck her stupid.

“Nu-uh! You’re way too naughty for Santa to come tonight!” Choerry pulled my hands from her shirt and pinned them above her head, pretending to pout but giving me that wide, sly, upside-down grin that said she was just getting started. “But Mrs. Claus is about to come for her bad boy… and she’s got something special waiting in her room. Sooner than you think.” Then she jumped up, stretching slow, arching her back so her tiny waist and flat belly were on full display, her navel winking just above her skirt. She wiggled her hips at me, making those needy little “nghh” sounds that always made my cock jump and my brain short out.

“Oh, I see how it is. Can’t have Miss Claus missing out on her chimney ride tonight, huh?” My cock was already thick and throbbing, especially with her ass shaking in my boxers right in front of me.

“Nope! She’s dying to get her stockings stuffed tonight,” Choerry shot back, throwing a wink over her shoulder as she danced toward the bathroom. She knew exactly what she was doing with her hips swaying like that and those boxers riding low and barely covering anything.

I laughed, fighting to stand without tripping over my own hard-on. No idea how I managed to scoop up all her toys and haul them to her bedroom without just taking her right there. The whole room was soft light and stupidly cute decorations, fairy lights, snowmen, Christmas plushies. The kind of innocent setup that’s one big lie when you remember who Choerry really is.

I rummaged through my jeans and found a single condom—tonight’s only shot. I stripped down, clothes dumped in a pile, and dropped onto her bed, cock aching up against my stomach, just listening for Choerry to come back. Through the wall, her roommates were already moaning, giggling, paper-thin plaster doing nothing to hide the mess next door. Made the whole place feel even filthier.

The bathroom door creaked. Lights clicked off. I heard the sharp tap of boots on the floor. Then my heart stopped—bedroom door swung open and there she was, framed in the glow, and fuck, it hit me all at once.

Choerry, in the dirtiest Santa outfit I’ve ever seen. Jet-black boots hugged her calves and stopped just below her knees, showing off all that soft, pale thigh. The velvet skirt was barely even a skirt; just a hint of red, trimmed in white fur, nowhere near enough to hide the black-and-red lace panties underneath. Her waist was so tight it looked breakable, belly flat and smooth, a line running down from under her ribs to her navel, skin glowing against the sheets and the fairy lights. That red corset pushed her tits up, the tops spilling over white fur, every breath she took making them swell.

She cocked her hip, slow and cocky, sucking lazily on a candy cane with those glossy lips, big eyes locked right on my cock, which was standing hard for her, twitching against my stomach. Every bit of her screamed trouble—hair spilling everywhere, cheeks flushed, a little glint in her eye that always means she’s about to ruin me.

“How’s this? Think your Christmas slut’s been naughty enough?” she purred, dragging the candy cane across her lips, then down her neck, letting it trace along her collarbone. I tried to come up with something to say, but my mouth was dry as hell—Choerry’s made me lose my words before, but this was just next level.

“Mmm, looks like I’m not the only naughty one, huh?” She closed the distance in three slow steps, hips swaying, skirt bouncing, and climbed onto the bed. She prowled over me, hair falling across her chest, her belly grazing mine, the heat of her skin making me pulse even harder. “Oh yeah… with a big bare cock like this, you’re definitely top of my naughty list.”

Her hand wrapped around my shaft, squeezing, stroking me slow, teasing the tip with her thumb. My hips twitched, a groan tearing out before I could stop it. But some tiny part of my brain held on—Choerry never remembers condoms.

“Here,” I grunted, tossing her the silver wrapper. She grabbed it, gave me a half-hearted scowl, then let her lips curl into that wicked grin—the one that always spells trouble. “Aww, that’s right! Silly boy, forgetting to wrap up your package for me.”

Choerry stretched up, bare belly sliding over my abs, her navel brushing my skin, the little ridges of her corset digging into my chest. She kissed me hard, biting my lip, then snatched the condom from my hand with her teeth. I nearly lost it—she was already grinding her soaked panties against my cock, the heat and slickness making my whole body jolt. If I lost control now, I’d paint those black panties white and end up a Christmas dad before the night even ended.

The extra-thin condom stuck to her pouty lips, pinched tight between those wide, grinning teeth. Choerry slid down my body, leaving a slick, sticky trail from her pussy all the way along my cock, smearing herself over me, the heat practically radiating from her skin. Then she dipped low and took me in, lips stretching, tongue working as she swallowed me whole. Inch by inch, she unrolled the condom with her mouth, her tongue circling my tip and her teeth scraping just enough to make me hiss. Every little drag sent a bolt of pleasure up my spine. All those late-night movies she watched? They paid off. I should’ve been worried she’d tear the damn thing, the way her teeth grazed the latex, but honestly, I could barely breathe, let alone care.

“Mmm.” Choerry’s moan vibrated around my cock, deep in her throat, her tongue swirling, hot spit soaking right through the condom. I kept thinking how much better it’d feel without anything between us—no barrier, just her raw and messy, drooling on my cock. The look she gave me, dreamy-eyed, desperate, my cock stuffed down her throat—fuck, it almost made me stupid. Maybe just this once, I thought. Maybe I could risk it, feel her tight pussy bare and dripping around me. But no. Not with Choerry. Not when she’s in full breeding mode. I knew better than to trust myself.

She pulled off with a loud, sloppy pop, leaving my dick perfectly wrapped and glistening. “There,” she purred, admiring her work, her lips glistening with spit. “All wrapped up. Just like a perfect present.” Her voice was sweet, but her eyes were all hunger.

“God, Choerry…” I groaned, head falling back. Part of me wanted to close my eyes and just let her keep grinding on my thigh, soaking me through her panties. The rest of me couldn’t look away from her—my own personal Christmas slut, flushed and wrecked, her hair hanging wild. As I locked eyes with her, she finally tore her gaze from my cock and fixed it on me. That look—wild, glassy, hungry. It hit so hard I shivered. I didn’t know what she was about to do, but it didn’t matter. When Choerry’s eyes go like that, you don’t ask. You just hold on.

In the background, the roommates were making a mess. Their bed slammed against the wall, muffled wails and filthy words leaking through—no doubt they’d stolen at least one of Choerry’s toys. She glanced over, and for a second we just listened, letting the noise soak in, the sound making both of us even hornier, pushing the room’s heat up another notch.

“Wow… they’re really going at it, huh?” I muttered, cock twitching under her cheek.

“Yeah…” Choerry murmured, eyes a little wild when she looked back at me with her cheeks flushed. “They’re completely losing it.” Her gaze lingered. “Don’t you wanna be like that too?”

“I’d be lying if I said no.”

“Mmm. You’re already hard, and lying. Naughty, naughty.” Her fingers dragged down my chest, her pussy grinding into my thigh, soaking straight through her panties. The scent of her got stronger, sharp and sweet.

“Fair enough. How about I unwrap my present first—” I tried to lift her skirt, but she darted back, smirking, dropping down to nuzzle her cheek along my cock, making it jerk against her.

“Nope. Naughty boys have to wait. Good girls get to open theirs first.” She flashed a wicked little grin.

“I mean, I’m pretty much unwrapped here…” The air was thick with her scent, her stare practically pinning me to the floor.

“Not yet.” She smirked, dragging her tongue from the base of my cock all the way up the latex to the tip, never breaking eye contact. That look told me everything I needed—tonight, she was in charge, and I was fucked.

“Choerry, we can’t just—”

“I’m not Choerry. I’m Mrs. Claus—and I always unwrap my gifts.” She didn’t break eye contact as she closed her teeth around the latex tip.

“Choerry! Seriously, we can’t just—” But she just shot me a look and tugged with her teeth. The condom never stood a chance. She ripped it open from the tip all the way down, leaving it totally useless. Choerry let out a gasp and bounced back.

“Oh my god, this is exactly what I wanted. My boyfriend’s cock, no rubber…” Before I could even process it, she peeled off the shredded rubber and tossed it aside. There was no way that thing would’ve caught anything, least of all my cum.

“Shit, Choerry, now we need another one.”

“No way. I’m in love with this one,” she purred, planting kisses all over my cock. “Can’t imagine letting another one replace it.” She started going down on me, totally wrecking my ability to think straight.

“Wait—seriously, we need... we can’t just go raw, Choerry… you’re not even on the pill…”

“Mmm.” Her slurping and sucking filled my ears, drowning out everything else. “Isn’t that exciting?”

“N-no… shit, we can’t take that risk, Choerry—”

“Maybe Choerry can’t, but Mrs. Claus can...” She let go of my cock, leaving it glazed with spit. She licked her lips, tossed her soaked panties onto my chest, then crawled up, straddling me.

“Choerry! I’m not playing—this is serious.”

“Who says I’m playing?” Choerry’s eyes were burning. She had that look—dead serious. “Ooh, Naughty Boy...” She sank down, letting her dripping pussy lips drag along my tip. “Mrs. Claus is getting her stocking stuffed full tonight.”

“Wait, Choe—mnhh...” I tried to grab her hips, but was too slow. She sank down hard, burying me to the hilt in one move. First time ever, totally bare inside someone—and holy shit, nothing ever felt like this.

“Mmmm!” Choerry groaned, gritting her teeth, “God, you’re so on the naughty list now...” She didn’t hold back. She started riding me, steady and rough, grinding her slickness all over my cock. My hands locked onto her hips, but I couldn’t force myself to pull her off. I could have, if I wanted. But I didn’t want to. I wanted her to keep grinding, no matter how much icy panic shot through me.

“I'll pull out...” I muttered, head tipping back as her pussy clamped down, warm and tight, making my restraint crack. I was already so fucking close, but any willpower I had was slipping away. I had to fuck her, bare or not.

Choerry kept riding, bouncing up and down, fingering at her corset. Lace by lace, she undid it, her hair falling wild over her eyes.

“Mmm-mmm-mmm,” she shook her head, biting her lip, “Mrs. Claus wants her present nice and deep...” She drove herself down hard, shivering. “Ohhh, I want your cum inside me. I want your—your...!” She choked, couldn’t finish, nails carving into my chest as her orgasm ripped through her. She gasped and screamed at the same time, legs locking around me. I clamped down on her hips, holding tight, barely keeping from cumming right then as her pussy milked me like a desperate fist. There was no pulling out now, she had me locked in.

She finally started to come down, thank God, right before I lost the fight myself. My balls clenched, cock twitching and throbbing inside her bare pussy, just one more thrust and I’d be done for, I knew it. But Choerry collapsed on my chest, panting hard, her corset barely hanging on her sweaty tits. I got one good handful of her tight ass under that little skirt, then tried to roll her off—

No chance. Choerry snapped to life in a flash. Suddenly she had my wrists pinned above my head, grinning like a lunatic right in my face. “Ooh ho ho! Trying to take advantage of Mrs. Claus, huh? You’ll need to give me a better present than that if you want to top the naughty list!”

“Choerry, I’m gonna—” I didn’t even get the words out before her pussy clenched hard around my cock and her eyes fluttering towards the ceiling.

“Yes… do it!” Choerry threw her head back, slamming down onto me, her voice breaking into a growl as she moaned into my ear. “Cum in me. Right here. Give me my present; deep, all the way in my tummy!” She dragged her flat belly against me, showing off where she wanted my cum, inside her, soaking her womb.

“You’ll get pregnant!” I could feel my orgasm boiling over, seconds away.

“Pregnant—yes, pregnant,” she gasped, frantic and breathless. “Knock me up, naughty boy. Give me your baby.” My blood went ice-cold and burned at the same time. Choerry wanted to be bred. She wanted me to pump her full, and she wasn’t letting me pull out. She never stopped riding me, hips grinding, slamming, trying to milk everything out of me. I shook—part fear, part rage, part pure animal in heat. My hands locked on her hips and, instead of stopping her, I started pumping her harder, slamming her down as her crazed eyes locked on mine. Couldn’t stop it. Couldn’t fight it. I—

“Nghh… fuck me… fill me up, give me all your cum!” Choerry wailed as I pinned her hips flush against mine and drove my cock as deep as it would go, unloading every last drop straight into her bare pussy. When she felt it—my hot cum shooting deep inside—she looked like she’d been struck by lightning: eyes staring wide, mouth frozen open in a silent scream, her whole body seizing up, her tight, wet pussy clamping down on my cock with one primal goal—to breed.

I swear I almost blacked out. I can barely remember my own choked moans mixing with her broken gasps, the slap of her hips against mine, her pussy clenching and gushing around me. The orgasm hit so hard my head spun. By the time I came back to earth, I was still buried inside, cock twitching, and Choerry was trembling, still moaning, every aftershock milking me for more. She kept me locked in, wouldn’t let me pull out—her whole body shuddering as she wrung out every last drop.

I held her there, hands gripping her ass, fingers digging into those perfect cheeks. Every time her hips moved, my whole body tensed; I just pulled her down, grinding her onto my cock, making sure every drop stayed inside. I could feel it; my cum, swirling and churning with every squeeze of her pussy, getting mixed up by her greedy little movements. My hot load, right where it belonged. Deep in Choerry’s messy, dripping pussy.

“Mmm… naughty... naughty boy...” Choerry purred, giggling as she thrust her hips down on me a few times, “Mrs. Claus loves your little presents... Mmm, I can’t wait to watch them grow in my tummy...” She sat up, straddling my hips, breathles, glancing down between her thighs at the sticky, shining mess smeared all over us. Her inner thighs glistened with our mixed juices; mine running thick down my cock, pooling at the base. She flashed that wild grin and licked her lips, “You just landed yourself at the top of Mommy’s naughty list.”

What was I feeling? I couldn’t even tell. I don’t think I’d ever been so freaked out and turned on at the same time, watching my insane girlfriend, stuffed full of my cum, grinding and sighing on top of me like she wanted to get knocked up right then and there. But part of me loved it—loved having her lean down, whispering filth in my ear, petting my chest, letting her pussy drool all over my cock. And even though I couldn’t explain it, the thought of maybe planting a baby in Choerry’s beautiful belly... Something inside me snapped.

“Get off me.”

“…what?” Choerry blinked.

“Get. Off. me.” My voice barely sounded like my own. Choerry flinched, a little stunned, but she obeyed; slowly, reluctantly, lifting herself off my cock with a shiver and a soft, broken moan.

“But—”

“OFF!”

She slid to the foot of the bed and sat there quiet, staring up at me like a kid who’d just been caught. My blood pounded in my ears. I was shaking, burning up with rage, my whole body on edge. Choerry’s hair was a wild mess, eyes huge and wet, face all innocence,except her pussy was leaking my cum all down her thighs and into the sheets.

“W-what’s wrong?” she whispered. “I thought you’d like it. Are... are you mad?” She touched herself just below her belly, maybe without thinking, maybe not. I saw it and my jaw clenched even tighter.

“Mad? I snapped. “I could’ve knocked you up, Choerry. You really asking if I’m mad?” I spat. I could hear the sounds in the hallway go dead silent—didn’t matter. If her roommates were listening, they could take notes.

Choerry just stared, her lips twitching in a nervous little frown. She was so innocent, in her crazy way. And I was about to match her.

“Turn around.”

“…Babe?” She tried, but my stare cut her off.

“Turn around. Hands and knees. Now.”

It took a second—then it clicked. Her eyes lit up, that familiar reckless grin slipping back into place as she moved quickly. Before she could say anything cute, I cut her off.

“Hey! Mrs. Claus has been a very naughty girl tonight, and she needs a proper fucking to straighten her out. On your knees. Show me that ass.”

Choerry scrambled up and arched her back, ass up, shivering, shaking it in the air like she was proud of it, like she was begging for more. She looked back over her shoulder, voice breathy.

“Oh god, Mister, you already stuffed me full… I don’t think I can take any more…” Choerry whined, and she wasn’t wrong—my cum glazed her pussy and inner thighs, still leaking out in heavy drips that ran down her shaking legs.

“A good Christmas slut doesn’t say no.” I brought my palms down hard on her ass, leaving red marks. She squealed, bucking back on my cock. “And you’ve been a terribly slutty girl tonight, Mrs. Claus.”

“Ohh, nghh—” Choerry moaned when I dragged my cockhead up her messy slit, “Give me more, please… my little egg wants your presents all over it…” She shuddered under my hands, voice cracking, just like that time we watched that documentary together. Something about her shaking, the things she whispered about her egg—it all drove me wild.

“You want more, slut? I’ll give you something to unwrap in a few months.” I lined up with her soaking hole and shoved inside, slow at first just to hear her mewl. “Yeah, Mrs. Claus, imagine waddling back to Santa with my baby swelling up that pretty belly.”

“Oh, fuck me!” Choerry came hard—she was clenching before I was even all the way in. I didn’t slow down. I pounded her tight pussy from behind, forcing her face into the pillows to muffle her screams. That just made her beg louder, half-crazed, moaning for me to knock her up right then and there. All that anger and lust tangled up in my chest, and the only thing I knew was I needed to fuck my cum deep inside her.

“You want a baby, Mrs. Claus?” I yanked her up by her hair, made her arch her back for me. Her eyes rolled back, moaning for more.

“Yesss!”

“Say it.”

“Mister—!” she yelped as I ripped the last strands of her corset away, baring her tits to the chilly air. “Please, Mister, make me your pregnant slut! Fill me up, make my pussy yours—knock me up, please—AHH!”

I grabbed her bare tits and squeezed hard, pinching her tight nipples until she couldn’t hold back. Her arms gave out and I pounded her ass down into the mattress, her body sprawled out, ass cocked up just enough for me to rut into her. She came hard, screaming for my babies, making a sticky, soaking mess around my cock.

“Cum for me! Cum like a good Christmas slut!”

Her skirt was hiked up around her waist, ass blazing red from the spanking and constant thrusts. I didn’t stop, even when my balls started to tighten again—no way I was stopping.

“Want me to fuck you till your belly swells, slut?”

“Oh—please, make me swell! Make my tummy round!” Choerry jerked beneath me, trembling through back-to-back orgasms, babbling filth as I gripped her by the throat, arching her back, my cock drilling her deep. She gave in completely, helpless and loving it.

“You’re really gonna look like a real slut in that cheer outfit with a baby bump,” I slid my fingers over her stomach; always firm from practice, but if I filled her now, she’d have to watch her belly round out for real. “Everyone will know exactly what you did when my present starts kicking inside.”

“Oh god —!” Choerry tried to grind back, to fuck herself on the cock threatening to knock her up, but all she managed was to shudder and squirt again. “Let them see it! Let them know I’m your slutty cheerleader—carrying your baby! Ahhh!”

I slammed her flat into the mattress and fucked her harder, all my focus burning for another release.

“I’m going to cum again,” I growled. “Gonna plant another present deep inside you…”

“Yes-please!” she sobbed. “Please, put it in me! Fill me up again—give me your baby!”

I grabbed her hips, letting go. “Fuck—take it, Choerry! I’ll knock you up!”

“I’m your Christmas slut!” she screamed. “Make me a mommy! Breed me—fill me!”

There was no way her roommates weren’t listening to me breed Choerry that night. Hell, the whole neighbour probably heard her screaming as I emptied my second load inside her. I thought the first orgasm was the best I’d ever felt, but the second topped it—feeling Choerry’s whole body twisting beneath me while I pumped her full, every pulse flooding her tight fertile cunt with thick, hot cum, bathing her cervix in my spunk.

By the end, we were tangled together, sweaty and breathless, mouths locked and hands everywhere. I never really stopped moving inside her, just kept grinding slow while we kissed, fucked, and finally crashed, arms wrapped tight around each other as the first light crept over the rooftops.

The rest of the weekend was a blur. We went at it nonstop: in bed, in the shower, on the kitchen table, on the couch right next to the table while her roommates tried to eat breakfast. You get the idea. Not once did we bother with a condom—just slick skin, dripping cum, and pure animal need. There was no going back after that, and Choerry only got happier that I’d finally caught her brand of crazy.

Of course, the inevitable happened. Choerry swore she was pregnant—at least in her head. By Sunday she was convinced she was lactating, running over every hour with her shirt up to show off a “baby bump” she insisted was already showing. A few days later she started grabbing pregnancy tests, scribbling little plus signs on them to show me I’d knocked her up—always right after we fucked. Honestly, it started to get to me. It made me hornier than hell, so I decided I’d have to make sure her belly got nice and round by keeping her filled up, over and over. Choerry couldn’t have agreed more. She’d beg for another baby before she’d even “had” the first.

So here we are, a few months after that fucked-up Christmas. Choerry’s still tearing up the cheer field, her energy just as wild, and she’s just as ferocious in bed. My studies are actually going great, maybe because I’ve been dumping every last drop of stress straight into her tight little pussy every night.

She’s still obsessed with the pregnancy game, of course, and lately she’s even thrown bondage into the mix. That was a scene—the day I found Choerry waiting with a riding crop, stern as hell, telling me, “Get over here and put a baby in your Mistress.” She couldn’t keep it up for long, though. By the end, she was moaning about being a good little cumdump slave for her master. She’s still practicing.

But sometimes, watching her prance onto the field with her bare midriff, or seeing her lounge across my lap with her t-shirt riding up, I start to wonder. Her cute little belly—maybe it really is a little rounder than before. It definitely feels firmer when my hand slides across her.

Your breath catches.

She's wearing a simple red Santa dress, the kind that's modest yet impossible to ignore. Soft white fur trims the hem and cuffs, hugging her curves just enough to accentuate her gentle figure without screaming for attention.

The skirt falls mid-thigh, playful but sweet, paired with sleek black thigh-high boots that make her legs look endlessly smooth.

Her dark hair cascades in loose waves, with cute hair extensions adding bouncy twin tails that frame her heart-shaped face, bangs sweeping softly over her doe eyes.

She looks like a Christmas elf come to life, adorable, and radiating a soft, irresistible vibe that is all Bora.

She spots you immediately, her lips curving into a delighted smile as she saunters over, hips swaying just a little in those boots.

Your mouth goes slightly slack, words failing you for a beat as she attaches herself to your side, her arm looping through yours as she belongs there—which she does.

The warmth of her body presses you, her subtle perfume wrapping around you like a hug.

"Well, Oppa? What do you think of my look tonight?" she asks, tilting her head up at you with those sparkling eyes, her voice light and playful as you both start walking toward the entrance.

You play it cool, clearing your throat to hide how she gets your pulse racing. "Looks alright," you say, your gaze dipping to those boots hugging her thighs, tracing the smooth skin above them before blinking back to her face.

Bora giggles, a melodic sound that vibrates your arm. She knows you're full of it—she always does—and it doesn't offend her one bit. "Liar," she murmurs, squeezing your arm. Her eyes follow yours, catching you staring, and her cheeks flush a pretty pink. "I saw that. You like it, huh?"

You shrug, smirking down at her. "They're... noticeable." Then your eyes catch on her hair again, those fun extensions bouncing with each step. "Speaking of, what's with the hair? New style?"

She twirls a strand around her finger. "Just for fun, Oppa. Trying something cute for the holidays. Don't you like it?"

"Not bad," you reply, your voice dropping a notch warmer. "But let's see if I grow to like it more later. You're beautiful in literally anything, anyway, babe."

Her face lights up at the praise, and she tugs you down gently, rising on her tiptoes to plant a lingering kiss on your cheek.

Her lips are soft, brushing close enough that you feel her breath on your skin, sending a gentle shiver through you.

She lingers there a few seconds, her small frame pressing closer, making her seem even tinier beside your taller build.

"Mmm, thank you, Oppa," she whispers, her hand sliding down to lace her fingers with yours.

Hand in hand, you reach the hall where the party is humming. Golden lights drape from the ceiling, Christmas trees sparkle in the corners, and the air hums with laughter, clinking glasses, and holiday jazz. Neighbors wave hellos as you enter.

You weave through the bustling ballroom with your girlfriend tucked beside you, her small hand warm around your arm, the festive energy buzzing around you like electric tinsel.

Laughter echoes off the high ceilings, where garlands of holly and twinkling lights sway beautifully.

Neighbors you recognize from block parties and casual waves—Mr. Lee from down the street, the Park sisters with their endless gossip—greet you both with cheers and hugs.

Strangers mingle in too, drawn by the open bar and the live band's smooth holiday covers.

You chat easily, pulling Bora into conversations about everything under the sun. With Mr. Lee, it's a lifestyle talk about his new keto diet versus your shared love for weekend hikes. "Bora is the one who drags me out," you say, squeezing her waist as she beams up at you, nodding enthusiastically.

Over eggnog with the Parks, sports come up about the neighborhood soccer league's drama. "You should join next season, Oppa," Bora chimes in, her voice sweet as she sips her drink, leaning into you. "I'd cheer you on."

Business chatter flows with a cluster of suits by the dessert table, swapping stories about year-end bonuses and market dips. Bora listens raptly, her fingers tracing idle circles on your lower back, her touch innocent to everyone else but sending sparks up your spine.

Everything hums along perfectly—until Bora decides to play. She knows the effect she has on you, that simple red dress and those thigh-high boots turning heads just enough, but her eyes? They're locked on you.

It starts subtly during the band's upbeat swing number, when she tugs you onto the dance floor. Couples sway around you, lost in their own worlds, and Bora presses close.

"Dance with me, Oppa," she whispers, her hips rolling languidly into your crotch in a grind that looks like nothing more than festive fun to onlookers.

You feel it instantly; her curves teasing your growing hardness through the fabric of her skirt, her thighs brushing yours with every sway.

She smiles up at you with all sweet innocence, but her grind deepens when the crowd thickens, hidden by spinning partners.

Your hands grip her waist, steadying her—or yourself—as heat pools low in your gut.

Later, during the group photo session by the massive Christmas tree, she amps it up. Cameras flash as everyone poses, arms linked in a big cheerful line.

Bora stands in front of you, her back to your chest, and under the cover of the huddle, she arches just so her ass nestles back against your lap in a deliberate press.

Her hand slips behind, fingers grazing your thigh, inching toward your zipper before fluttering away like it was nothing. Nobody notices; they're all grinning at the lens. But you do.

Your cock twitches, straining your pants, and she feels it, glancing back with a knowing smile that says ‘got you’.

Amidst the dispersing crowd, you shift discreetly, adjusting your erection with a casual hand in your pocket. Bora catches your eye from across the group, her lips curving in victory, cheeks flushed with her own secret thrill.

You shoot her a silent look, your gaze saying ‘you're gonna pay for that later’. Her eyes light up; it's exactly what she's craving, that spark of retaliation in your stare.

Halfway through the party, as the night deepens and the band takes a break, Bora excuses herself with a quick peck on your cheek.

"Toilet, Oppa. Be right back." She slips away, her boots clicking softly on the marble floor, hips swaying that extra bit for your eyes only.

But you don't wait. Impulse surges, and you follow, catching her arm just as she rounds the corner toward the restrooms.

You pull her gently but firmly toward the dim end of the hallway, away from prying eyes, the party's hum fading to a distant murmur. The wall meets her back, and you crowd in close, your taller frame pinning her there.

"Oppa—" she starts, breathless laugh in her voice, but you silence her with your lips crashing onto hers.

The kiss is hungry yet tender, tongues tangling slowly and deep, tasting the sweet wine on her breath. Your hands find her waist, fingers digging into the soft fur trim of her dress, pulling her flush against you.

She melts into it, small whimpers vibrating between your mouths.

You break away to trail hot kisses down her jaw, nipping at the smooth column of her neck. Her pulse flutters under your lips as you suck gently, marking her with a faint pink bloom she will feel later.

"This is a bold game you're playing, babe," you murmur. One hand slides lower, gripping her hip, while your knee nudges up between her thighs, pressing firmly into her crotch, right where her heat radiates through the thin barrier of her panties.

She gasps, thighs parting instinctively, rocking subtly against the pressure as her hands clutch your shoulders.

"Mmm, Oppa... maybe I like bold," she breathes, her body arching into yours, eyes half-lidded with that soft, needy glow.

You exclaim against Bora's neck, "Party is over for us, Kim Bora-ssi.”

She nods eagerly, eyes glazed with lust. You slip back into the ballroom just long enough to grab coats unnoticed, then ditch the crowd entirely, hailing a cab outside under the hotel's twinkling awning.

The driver barely glances as you slide into the back seat, Bora clinging to you like a magnet, her small body tucked tight on your side, head on your shoulder, fingers interlaced.

The ride home buzzes with tension; her thigh presses yours, boot-clad leg draping over your lap innocently, but her free hand squeezes your knee, nails digging to tease.

You keep it together—no handsy moves with the driver up front—but your arm stays around her waist, thumb stroking the fur trim of her dress, inhaling her vanilla scent as city lights streak by.

She bites her lip, stifling a whimper when your fingers brush her inner thigh.

The cab pulls up to your apartment building, and you toss bills without waiting for change, hauling Bora out and up the stairs two at a time.

Door barely clicks shut before clothes fly—strategic ones. You kick off shoes and shove down pants, cock springing free, thick and throbbing.

Bora peels off her boots with a sexy shimmy, leaving the red Santa top on, yanking it up over her soft tits to bunch at her neck like a naughty collar.

Her skirt rides high around her waist, panties shoved down—bare pussy glistening, ready. "Fuck, you look perfect like that, babe," you growl, and she giggles, spinning for you.

No warning, you scoop her up effortlessly, her tiny frame light as a feather in your arms, legs wrap around your waist, ankles locking as you impale her on your cock in one thrust, lowering her down slowly so that she can feel the stretch.

She squeals, "Ahh, Oppa!" A playful shock mixes with a hiss as her slick walls stretch around your thick girth.

You stand there in the living room, bouncing her up and down your shaft with firm grips on her ass cheeks. Her boots are gone, so her bare feet dangle, toes curling.

The Santa skirt bunches like a belt, top framing her bouncing tits. You manhandle her quite roughly but playfully, hoisting her higher, slamming her down harder, her small body jolting with each drop.

"Fuck, Oppa—yes, so deep!" she gasps, arms looped around your neck, extension bouncing.

Your cock bullies deep, the bulge of your tip visible pressing her lower tummy outward with every plunge, a lewd ripple under pale skin that makes her eyes roll back. "I feel it... so big... fucking me..."

Her clit grinds your pelvis on downstrokes, pussy clenching. You pick up pace, your muscles flexing as you carry her around the room like a fucktoy, three steps to the wall, bounce-slam; pivot, drop-thrust.

Her moans turn to squeals, playful slaps on your shoulders urging more, begging more. Sweat beads on her cleavage, tits jiggling wildly as you piston upward, balls slapping her ass.

Bora cries, mouth gaping, feeling your cock reshape her insides. "Oppa, it's... poking out—ahh!"

Orgasm hits her fast, inner walls fluttering, soaking your shaft as she convulses in your hold, squirting a little down your thighs. You don't stop, bouncing through it roughly.

She cums again mid-air, nails raking your back but you keep railing, her pussy squeezing your cock relentlessly until she's a limp, moaning mess, her hair disheveled, Santa dress askew.

You carry-fuck her to the couch, never pulling out, and pin her down in deep missionary, her back arching off the cushions as you fold her tiny legs to her chest, knees by her ears.

The angle is brutal; your cock spears straight down, kissing her cervix with every snap of your hips.

"Do you feel it, babe—deep like that?" you grunt, hands pinning her wrists above her head, using your weight to trap her completely.

She's so small beneath you, her red top still rucked up, tits squished between your chest and hers, skirt a crumpled belt at her waist. Her pussy lips grip your base visibly, stretched taut.

You fuck hard and fast now, couch creaking under the assault—plunge, withdraw halfway, slam home. That tummy bulge reforms with each thrust, more pronounced in this position, tenting her flat belly like a fist from inside.

"Oh, God—your cock is ruining me," she whimpers, free hand (you release one wrist) rubbing the protrusion, eyes wide and horny. It drives her wild as she bucks up, meeting your pistons, squeals punctuating each hit.

You oblige, rough but loving—shoving her thighs wider, one hand collaring her throat lightly for leverage, pounding relentlessly. Giggles bubble from her as you grind deep, circling hips to stir her guts.

Sweat slicks your bodies; her hair fans out on the cushion, bangs sticking to her forehead. The room fills with wet slaps, her arousal dripping to soak the couch.

Orgasm builds again from the bulge alone—she traces it obsessively, moaning, "It's you... filling me so full—gonna cum!" Her walls seize, milking you in waves, but you rail through it, hips blurring.

You hook her knees over your elbows, folding her double for even deeper access—jackhammering now, balls smacking her ass.

She squeals in delight, "Yes, yes, yes! fuck my slutty pussy!"

Playful force amps it; you bite her neck, suck tits mid-thrust, her body jolting like a ragdoll. Another orgasm crashes, harder, her squirt spraying your abs as the bulge pulses under her palm.

You chase your peak but hold off, fucking her senseless. Abruptly, you flip her around, positioning her body face-down at the couch edge, ass up high. Knees on the floor, torso draped over cushions, skirt hiked, top still framing tits pressed flat.

"Ass up, babe," you command, and she wiggles back eagerly, giggling, "Yes, Oppa, wreck me!"

You mount her from behind, cock slamming balls-deep in one go, her pussy yielding with a wet schlick. Hands grip her slim hips, yanking her back onto you—hard, rhythmic, the edge of the couch perfect for leverage.

You fuck like animals now, brutal pace shaking her frame—pull out to tip, ram home, cockhead battering deep inside.

One hand fists her hair like reins, yanking her head back arched, exposing her neck. "Holy fuck! Damn, my woman is taking this cock so good," you growl, your other palm cracking her ass, a sharp spank, pink handprint blooming on pale skin.

She yelps, then giggles, pushing back. "Slap me more! Harder! So good!" Another smack, jiggle, then rub—soothing rough play she craves.

Pounding escalates; hair-pulling arches her deeper, letting you drill her cervix. Spanks alternate cheeks; left then right, reddening her ass as it ripples from impacts. Her tummy hangs slightly off the couch edge, tented lewdly.

"Feel that? My cock fucking your gut," you rasp, reaching under to press it. She shatters, orgasm ripping through, pussy spasming, "Oppa—yes, your cock—cumming!" Squirting messily, thighs quaking, but you don't relent.

Hair yanked harder, spanks raining—playful brutality making her squeal-giggle nonstop. Flip her hips side to side mid-thrust for new angles, then straight brutal again.

Her smallness lets you use her like a Fleshlight—yank back, spank, thrust. Her final orgasm sucks your cock over; you bellow, flooding her depths, pulsing cum inside as she collapses giggling, Christmas outfit gloriously ruined.

You collapse onto the couch together in a sweaty, cum-soaked heap, Bora's tiny body draped over yours like a warm blanket, her giggles fading into soft pants. The red dress clings messily—top still bunched at her neck, skirt a wrinkled band around her waist—cum trickling down her thighs from her well-fucked pussy.

"Oppa, that was intense. I love it so much," she murmurs, nuzzling your chest, her small hands tracing random shapes on your skin.

You scoop her up effortlessly, her frame featherlight, and carry her to the bathroom, the size difference making her feel like a delicate doll in your arms. Warm water cascades in the shower, steam filling the air as you ease her under the spray.

Bora sighs happily, leaning back on your chest, your taller body enveloping hers. You soap her up tenderly, hands gliding over her tits, down her flat tummy, between her thighs to clean the mess you made. She turns, rising on tiptoes to kiss you softly, her wet hair plastered to her shoulders.

"Let's get these off," you say, fingers gently unhooking the hair extensions. It comes away, revealing her natural style—short, neat wavy bob framing her heart-shaped face perfectly, bangs soft and tousled. "I prefer you like this, babe. So damn pretty." She blushes, eyes sparkling as you rinse her clean, thumbs brushing her cheeks.

Dried and naked now—outfit discarded in the hamper—you lead her to the bedroom, the city lights filtering through the curtains. You slide under cool sheets first, pulling her into your chest for cuddles. She curls against you, head tucked under your chin, one leg thrown over your thigh.

Your arms wrap her completely, hands stroking her back, her ass, as she sighs. "Love holding you like this," you whisper, lips brushing her forehead.

She melts closer, touchy as ever, her fingers interlacing with yours, pressing your hand to her breast.

Kisses start soft, lazy—pecks on her lips, her nose, eyelids. You worship her body slowly, rolling her onto her back. Mouth trails down her neck, sucking gently at her collarbone, then lavishing her tits with open-mouthed kisses. Tongue circles one nipple, teasing it to a stiff peak before sucking softly, her back arching with a whimper.

"Oppa... Mm," she breathes, hands holding your head, fingers in your hair. You knead her other breast, thumb flicking the nipple, then switch, worshipping until she's squirming, legs parting instinctively.

Lower still, kisses pepper her ribs, navel, the faint red marks from earlier spanks. You nuzzle her inner thighs, so slender they fit in your palms, before licking slow stripes up her folds. She's already leaking again, sweet and musky.

Tongue delves gently, circling her clit with featherlight flicks, one finger sliding in to curl against her walls. She moans, wrapping her arms around your head, holding you close as her hips rock subtly.

Foreplay builds languid—edging her with sucks and pumps until she's trembling, begging softly, "Please, inside me now."

You shift to spooning first, her back to your chest on the bed's edge. Cock nestles at her entrance, slick from her arousal, and you ease in slowly, inch by thick inch stretching her petite pussy.

She gasps, tiny hand reaching back to grip your hip. "So full... Oppa," she whispers, her small stature making every vein felt.

You thrust languid, deep rolls of your hips, one arm banded across her chest to grope a tit, the other hand pinning hers down. Kisses dot her shoulder, neck; she turns her head for slow tongue kisses, bodies fused.

You lie flat, pulling her atop you facing each other as she squats low, guiding your cock in with a shared moan, her pussy lips spreading beautifully. Hands on your thighs for balance, she rides unhurried—lifting slow, sinking deep, bottoming out with a shiver.

The size difference shines; from the front, you see the subtle belly bulge tent her tummy each time she hilts. Your hands roam—gripping her waist to help lift, thumbs pressing the bulge.

She pauses, bottomed out, hand flying to her stomach, pressing the protrusion. "Ahh... yes, inside me... so full," she whines, pussy clenching, juices leaking down your balls. Shivers rack her; she grinds circles, touchy—reaching forward to hold your hand, pulling it to her clit.

She pants, dismounting to shift for a bit, her squatting over you, facing directly, tits brushing your chest as she sinks onto your cock. Bodies press tight, skin-to-skin; she's so petite she fits perfectly molded against you.

Slow, intimate—she squats-rides with control, bottoming out each drop, pausing to savor. "Hold me," she pleads, and you do—hands everywhere. She grabs yours, guiding them to grope her ass, tits; wraps her arms around your neck while you clutch her waist, pulling her down harder onto you.

The belly bulge reforms vividly up close—pressing right against your abs when she hilts. She touches it obsessively, shivering as pussy leaks profusely, coating your groin. "Oppa... look, your cock is so big… I can feel it," she moans, grinding deep, clit rubbing your base.

You hold off release, thrusting up gently to meet her intimate snaps, bodies slick with sweat. Kisses turn sloppy, tongues tangling; she holds your arms tight, nails digging playfully as pleasure builds.

First orgasm hits her mid-pause—pressing the bulge sends her over, walls fluttering slowly and deep around you. "Cumming... holding you—ahh!"

She shudders in your arms, juices flooding, but doesn't stop—riding through it touchier, hugging your neck, whispering "Love you" between gasps. You worship verbally too—"So pretty like this, babe... perfect little body on my cock"—hands roaming, holding hers as she squeezes.

Second climax builds slower; she squatting-fucks with hypnotic rhythm. "Again... feel it throbbing inside," she whimpers, both hands now on her tummy, pressing with yours—shared touch making her leak rivers.

You manhandle lightly, gripping her ass to bounce her deeper, but tenderly, prolonging. She cums harder, convulsing face-to-face, pussy milking relentlessly, squirting softly onto your abs.

"Oppa—yes, ahh... don't stop!"

You grit your teeth, holding back, not ready to end this bliss. She collapses forward, still impaled with your pulsing cock, cuddling close as aftershocks ripple, her body trembling in your embrace.

Minutes pass in slow rocks, kisses, touches, drawing out the intimacy, unwilling to let go.

You hold Bora close in the afterglow, her petite body still straddling yours, cock twitching deep inside her fluttering pussy as her second orgasm ebbs into soft tremors.

She's a limp, satisfied puddle against your chest—short hair damp with sweat, bangs clinging to her forehead, small hands clutching your shoulders like lifelines.

"Too much… but I want more," she whispers, lips brushing your jaw in lazy pecks, her touchy nature shining through even now.

Juices mingle where you're joined, her subtle belly bulge fading as you both catch your breath.

Gently, you roll her off to the side, easing out with a wet pop that makes her whimper. She's so small beside you, fitting perfectly in the curve of your arm as you guide her onto her back, sheets tangling around her slender legs.

Your eyes drink her in—flushed skin glowing in the dim light, perky tits rising with each pant, pussy puffy and wet from your shared ecstasy. "I'm going to taste you properly now."

She bites her lip, eyes half-lidded with anticipation, reaching for your hand. "Yes... touch me everywhere." You start slowly, kisses trailing from her knuckles, sucking each finger tenderly, tongue swirling like a promise.

Her free hand cards through your hair, holding you close as you move to her palm, nipping the heel. Lips ghost up her arm, inner elbow, and shoulder, soft, lingering presses that make her shiver and arch.

Neck next; you nuzzle there, inhaling her vanilla skin, sucking faint marks but gentler now, tongue soothing each one. She tilts her head, granting access, a content hum vibrating in her throat.

"Feels nice, Oppa..."

Your mouth finds hers in a deep, unhurried kiss—tongues dancing slowly, tasting salt and sweetness, her tongue shyly grazing yours. She wraps her arms around your neck, pulling you down, bodies pressing as close as possible.

You worship downward, deliberate, and adoring. Collarbone gets open-mouthed kisses. Tits receive devotion, cupping one fully in your palm, thumb circling the nipple before your mouth descends, licking the peak, then flattens broad, laving in slow circles while you suckle softly, like savoring candy.

She moans, back bowing, fingers tightening in your hair. "Mmm... right there." Switch to the other, kneading the first, rolling the nipple between fingers—gentle tugs that draw breathy giggles.

Ribs, navel, kisses pepper her torso, tongue dipping into her belly button, tracing the faint outline where your bulge once tented. She squirms delightfully, so petite her entire midsection fits under your mouth's span. "Tickles... but good," she laughs softly, hand pressing your head lower.

Inner thighs now—your favorite canvas. You kneel between her legs, spreading them wide with large hands, thumbs stroking the smoothness. She's tiny here too, thighs slender enough to lift and kiss undersides, nipping at the crease where leg meets hip.

Pussy worship lingers longest, reverent. You blow cool air over her slick folds, watching them twitch, then dive in slowly. Flat tongue laps from taint to clit in one long, languid stroke, savoring her tangy essence mixed with your cum.

"God, taste so good, babe," you groan, vibrations humming through.

She gasps, legs quaking, wrapping them over your shoulders, her heels digging into your back, holding you there. Circles her clit, lips sealing to suckle gently, tongue probing her entrance to scoop more nectar.

Fingers join, two sliding in easily, curling slowly against her front wall while the thumb presses her clit. You hum into her, eyes locked up at her face, watching eyes roll, lips part in silent pleas.

She grinds, touchy hands roaming your arms, squeezing biceps. "Oppa... don't stop... worship me more."

Pace stays glacial, edging her anew—pull back to kiss her mound, thighs, then return to lap like a devotee. Her arousal floods your chin, clit throbbing under your tongue.

Climax builds unhurried; she shudders, holding your head tight, thighs clamping as she cums with a drawn-out whine—juices gushing softly, pussy pulsing around your fingers. You slurp through it all, gentle, prolonging every wave until she's boneless.

You pull Bora from her boneless sprawl atop your face, her thighs slick and trembling as you guide her down your body with tender hands. Her skin flushed rose from head to toe, pussy quivering from the oral worship, lips puffy and dripping.

"Need to finish inside you, babe," you whisper, voice thick with the ache building in your gut. She nods eagerly, eyes locked on yours, hands roaming your chest as she shifts beneath you.

You settle into missionary, her frame cradled perfectly under your larger one—her head tucking into the crook of your shoulder, nose nuzzling your neck, inhaling your scent like it's home.

Her slender legs wrap high around your waist, ankles crossing at the small of your back, pulling you impossibly closer. Arms loop around your shoulders, fingers threading into your hair, holding tight as if you will vanish.

Your weight pins her gently to the mattress, every inch of her soft curves molding to your harder planes—tits squished against your chest, tummy to yours, her slick heat cradling the tip of your throbbing cock.

"Like this, Oppa... all of you on me," she breathes, lips brushing your earlobe, her nails grazing your scalp, heels digging into your ass to urge you in.

You ease forward slowly, the broad head parting her folds with a shared gasp. Inch by velvet inch, you sink deep—her walls hugging you like a glove, so tight and wet from worship that it steals your breath.

You bottom out with a groan, hips flush to hers, holding still to savor—deep, grinding rolls stirring her depths without pulling back.

"Bora… Baby, fuck, so good," you moan into her hair, arms bracketing her head, one hand cupping her jaw to tilt her face for kisses.

Tongues tangle slowly and sloppily, mirroring the unhurried thrust—pull halfway, slide home, pause to clench around each other. She's wrapped so completely, like a vine around a tree, her every shiver vibrating through you.

Edging begins instinctively; you thrust languid, deep—kissing her cervix on each hilt, circling hips to rub her clit against your base. She counters, clenching her pussy rhythmically, legs squeezing to halt you mid-pull when release looms too close.

"Oppa... slow... together," she whimpers, head burrowed deeper into your shoulder, hot breaths panting against your skin.

Her arms tighten, holding you down, bodies slick with sweat—maximum contact turning you into one fused being, hearts hammering in sync.

Long withdrawals where her inner walls drag pleasurably, then plunging returns that tent her tummy just enough for her to feel. You grind there, pubic bone pressing her clit, edging her with pressure.

Juices leak profusely, soaking your balls, the sheets. She rises subtly, nipping your shoulder, then sucks the skin—marking you as hers while her pussy milks teasing flutters.

Tension coils endlessly as you hold back with gritted teeth, thrusting deliberate—deep, pause, grind—moans syncing.

"Bora... close, babe... hold on," you groan, weight bearing down lovingly, her small body yielding beneath. She clings harder, legs vise-like, arms crushing you closer.

"Oppa... yes, me too... more... ahh, Oppa!" Her voice breaks on your name, pussy spasming in warning waves—releasing the clench just shy of orgasm, drawing you back from the brink.

Kisses pepper her temple, neck—whispered praises, "Love your body... so pretty, so mine."

She responds in kind, touchy hands everywhere—stroking your back, gripping your ass to control depth, head forever tucked safe in your shoulder.

The intimacy peaks; no more holding—one final, slow plunge bottoms you out, and release crashes mutually.

"Bora, ugh, cumming!" you moan loudly, cock pulsing ropes of hot cum deep inside, bulge throbbing visibly under her palm.

She shatters with you. "Oppa! Oppa, yes! Cum in me!" Her pussy walls convulse, milking every drop, squirting softly around your base as her legs quake locked around you.

You stay buried, rocking gently through aftershocks, bodies entangled—her holding you tight, you enveloping her completely. Names murmured like prayers into sweat-damp skin, the night sealing your bond in slow, perfect bliss.

You stay locked together, cock still buried deep inside Bora's fluttering pussy, cum and her juices mingling in a warm, sticky mess between your thighs.

No rush to move, her body cradles yours perfectly, legs loosely wrapped around your waist, arms draped over your shoulders, head still tucked into the crook of your neck.

Neither of you bothers cleaning up this time; the slick evidence of your passion feels right, intimate. You reach down with one arm, tugging the soft blanket up over your sweat-slicked bodies, cocooning you both in its warmth.

The city lights filter dimly through the curtains, casting a gentle glow on her flushed face as she instantly snuggles closer—impossibly closer—her tiny frame molding to your larger one, tits pressing soft against your chest, one leg hitching higher over your hip.

"Mmm... Oppa," she hums in satisfaction, voice a sleepy purr vibrating. Her breath evens out for a moment, then she nuzzles deeper, lips brushing your collarbone. "Where should we go tomorrow? It's still a holiday. Maybe that café with the hot chocolate you like? Or ice skating in the park?"

You smile into her hair, hand stroking her bare back under the blanket, thumb circling a dimple above her ass. "Doesn't matter, babe. Anywhere as long as you're there with me."

She giggles happily, the sound light and bubbly, her body wriggling in delight. "Best answer, Oppa, love you." Her eyes flutter shut, drowsiness claiming her fast; breaths deepen into soft, even rhythms, small hand curling over your heart.

The door to 1407 opened a crack before she even knocked. He appeared wearing only worn gray sweatpants, the ones with the loose elastic that showed the outline of his dick even soft. The hallway was cold, but the air that wafted from the apartment was warm, heavy with black coffee and the unmistakable scent of a man who’d just woken up horny.

— Get in, unnie — his voice was rough with sleep, but already commanding. — I’ve been hard since six this morning thinking about your throat last night.

She took off her dirty white sneakers, left them by the door. The icy wooden floor burned the soles of her feet. She was still wearing her oversized TWICE sweatshirt (light gray with the small logo on the chest), but underneath only the white cotton panties she wears when she wants to feel “at home.” Her short hair was messed up from the wind outside, a few strands sticking to her sweaty nape.

He closed the door with his heel and was already glued to her from behind, arms wrapping around her slender waist, mouth on her neck exactly where he’d left a hidden purple hickey. His smell invaded everything: warm skin, remnants of woody cologne, a touch of night sweat. Jeongyeon closed her eyes and let her head fall to the side, offering more space. She felt his cock, already hard, nudging the curve of her ass over the sweatpants.

— You can still feel it, can’t you? — he murmured against her skin, licking the mark. — Your voice is still hoarse. I loved it.

The memory came whole, in warm waves.

They were on the couch, some movie playing on Netflix, a bluish light flickering on their faces. She was sitting sideways on his lap, legs thrown over the arm of the sofa, when he simply grabbed her short hair at the nape — exactly where the skin is most sensitive — and pulled her head back with controlled force.

— Open your mouth.

Two months of “nothing serious” and she still obeyed at zero seconds. She opened. Tongue already out, pure instinct.

He stood up, lowered his sweatpants to mid-thigh and his cock sprang out heavy. The strong smell of male groin made her heart race as he held the base and guided it straight inside.

First it was slow, almost tender: just the head going in and out, her tongue swirling around, the salty taste invading everything. Then he twisted his fingers in her hair like it was a handle and began pushing deeper. The sound was what finished her: a wet sequence of “glug,” muffled gags, thick saliva dripping from the corners of her mouth and onto his sweatpants, forming a dark stain that grew with every thrust.

Tears soon streamed down as he hit the back of her throat for the first time. She grabbed his thighs, nails digging into flesh, but didn’t push — she pulled. She wanted more. He understood. Held her firmly and began truly fucking her mouth, hips going back and forth, his entire cock disappearing until her nose pressed against his pelvic bone. Every time he held it deep, counting to five, she felt the world blink out and return in red pulses.

When he came, it was straight down her throat. She swallowed what she could, the rest dripped down her chin, onto her breasts over the sweatshirt. He cleaned up the mess with his own finger and made her lick it until it was clean.

Now, back to the present.

He took a step back just to look. The morning light coming through the living room window, illuminating her face still swollen with sleep and residual sex.

— Take everything off, except the panties.

Jeongyeon obeyed slowly. Pulled the sweatshirt over her head, her hair getting staticky, a few strands sticking to her forehead. Underneath, a simple black sports bra. She slid the straps down, let it fall. Her breasts swayed free — the left one a tiny bit larger, nipples already hard from cold and anticipation, a pinkish-brown color with a tiny mole on the left areola showing.

His nose buried directly into her armpit, in a shameless, rough motion, smelling deeply, pulling in the air as if it were good smoke. His tongue came out, broad and wet, and licked a long stripe from the highest part, where the sweat was most acidic, down to the middle of the hollow. He savored it, swirled his tongue in his mouth, and let out a low sound of approval.

— Fucking delicious — he grumbled, his voice thick and glued to her skin. — This salty taste… You came straight here after practice, didn’t you, fuck? Didn’t even stop at home. Filthy slut.

Jeongyeon felt her face catch fire, a wave of shame and arousal climbing up her throat. She said nothing, just turned her face away, but her body arched on its own as his mouth descended. It wasn’t a kiss, it was an assault. The hot, rough tongue passed exactly over the brown mole on her left breast, the spot he knew made her sensitive. Then, without warning, he took the entire nipple into his mouth, pulling it inside with force, sucking until it hurt, until the nipple was hard and throbbing against his palate. She moaned, a low, trembling sound that escaped between clenched teeth.

Meanwhile, his free hand had already gone straight to the point. Slid down her belly and went inside her simple white cotton panties. His fingers found that small ridge of flesh above the clit, the fine, coarse line of pubic hair she’d let grow back. He lightly rubbed his finger there, in a teasing back-and-forth.

— Letting it grow again, huh? — he laughed, the vibration of his laugh echoing against her wet breast. He gave a little bite, just to hear her hold her breath. — I like it like this. Damn, it looks like a real woman’s pussy. Full, not that bald plastic-doll look the others have. This here is a grown woman’s.

His words went through her like a hot shock. She felt her clit swell instantly, throbbing against the absence of his touch. The wetness grew between her legs, overwhelming, and she knew the panties were soaked. The thin cotton fabric already had a dark, translucent stain right in the middle, sticking to her skin and outlining the swollen lips beneath. She felt that honey dripping, sticky and warm, and knew he saw it too, felt it, wanted it. Everything in her was open, offered, dirty and perfect for him.

He stepped away for a second, his eyes glazed and hungry. His hand disappeared behind his back, returned with a small, polished metal case. He opened it with a satisfying click and there it was: a thick white line, drawn with perfection on the glass. Without ceremony, he leaned over the case, pinched one nostril and snorted the powder with a short, brutal grunt, wiping the residue with his thumb. A harsh sigh escaped, his eyes gleaming with an instant, icy focus. He turned his face to her, a crooked smile on his lips.

— Come on. It’s good. Takes all the shyness away, slut — his voice was sharper, electric. He brought the case close to her face. — Just one. So we can be on the same rhythm.

Hesitant, eyes wide, Jeongyeon leaned in. The chemical, acidic smell invaded her nostrils even before the act. She imitated his movement, feeling the powder burn a sinuous path through her septum, a cold explosion that shot straight to her brain, leaving her tongue numb and her heart racing in a new, anxious rhythm. She coughed lowly, eyes watering, and a feeling of dirty invincibility began to run through her veins, mixing with the already simmering arousal.

— That’s it, girl. Now turn around.

With a new chemical courage pulsing in her, Jeongyeon turned. He pulled her panties down only to mid-thigh, exposing her round, firm ass, marked by workouts. He spread her buttocks with both hands, with a clinical coldness, and smelled deeply the valley between them. The smell there was dense, intimate — a whole day’s sweat between her thighs, mixed with the sweet-bitter residue of body lotion. He licked a long, wet stripe there just to feel the violent tremor that ran through her entire body.

— Today I finish what I started yesterday — his voice was low, dangerous, but now with a metallic clarity. The powder sharpened everything. — And you’re going to wet the whole floor for me. You’re going to moan until you’re hoarse.

She could only nod, her legs already wobbly, not just from excitement now, but from the chemical rush that made the world tinkle around her.

He pushed her back-first onto the sofa without the slightest ceremony. The rough, old upholstery fabric scratched her bare back, cold against skin that now burned from the inside. Jeongyeon’s heart hammered against her ribs, breathless, mouth dry. He grabbed her ankles, his big hands wrapping them completely, and threw both her legs over his own shoulders, opening her up at once, exposing everything. The dry sound of her knees popping echoed in the charged silence of the room. The dim light illuminated the gleam of her swollen, completely exposed sex, the soaked white panties still tangled around her thighs, an obscene contrast against her skin. He observed her from there, from his throne, with dilated eyes and a smile that was no longer just lust, but pure chemical possession.

The white panties were torn off with a single yank; the elastic snapped against her thigh, leaving a red mark. The smell rose all at once, warm and dense: practice sweat, accumulated arousal, an almost animalistic musky base that made his cock pulse visibly. He took a deep breath, nostrils flared, as if smelling pure drug.

Her pussy was closed tight, inner lips still hidden, but already swollen, gleaming with translucent wetness. He opened her with his thumbs without delicacy; the flesh parted with a wet sound, revealing the vivid pink inside. Her small clit emerged from its hood at once, pink, throbbing, covered in a sticky film.

The first lick was broad, from the entrance to the top, a flat, heavy tongue. The taste exploded in his mouth: salty, acidic, with a sweet base of old discharge. Jeongyeon arched her entire back, a hoarse moan escaping her raw throat. He didn’t stop. Sucked the entire inner lips into his mouth, sucking hard until they swelled more, then released them with an obscene pop.

Two fingers entered at once, without warning. The tight entrance caught halfway, then yielded with a wet, greedy sound. The inner walls were velvety, hot, pulsing around his fingers. He curled them, searching for the spongy spot, and found it quickly; Jeongyeon let out a short, muffled cry, legs trying to close by reflex. He held her firmly with his forearm, keeping her spread wide open.

His tongue returned to her clit, now circling fast, then sucking hard until the little bud jumped. Each suction made her hips jerk involuntarily, her ass lifting off the sofa. The discharge began to flow thick, milky-white, running down her perineum and dripping onto the upholstery. The smell grew stronger, dirtier, mixed with his hot breath.

Then, without warning, he flipped her onto her stomach over his own body. The movement was brutal: tossing her like a doll. His cock slapped heavy against her cheek, leaving a shiny smear of pre-cum. The smell of his male groin invaded everything, stronger now, sweat from a whole night of accumulated lust.

He spread her buttocks with both hands, thumbs sinking into the firm flesh. He ran his tongue there without hesitation, circling slowly, feeling the muscle tighten and relax. Jeongyeon let out a long, almost tearful moan.

His mouth went lower. His tongue entered her pussy from behind, deep, nose buried between her buttocks. The taste there was more intense: sweat trapped between her thighs, thick discharge mixed with the natural smell of her ass. He licked as if he wanted to suck out her soul, tongue going in and out, fingers spreading her wider to expose everything.

Jeongyeon trembled all over. Her inner thighs were already red from so much friction, sweat running down the curve of her ass and dripping onto his chest. Each time he licked from her clit to her ass, she let out a guttural sound, muffled against his cock as it returned to her mouth. His saliva dripped down her perineum, mixed with her discharge, ran down to the sofa in long, transparent strands.

His cock free from her mouth again, throbbed against her forehead, leaking more pre-cum. She opened her mouth by instinct, tongue coming out to lick the head, but he grabbed her short hair and pushed it in just a little, just to feel her throat convulse again. The whole room smelled of raw sex: wet pussy, sweaty balls, saliva, sweat. The sound was constant, wet, obscene: tongue sucking, fingers going in and out, her thighs trembling against his shoulders.

She was already at her limit. Every inner muscle pulsed, the entrance to her pussy opening and closing on its own, desperate for something thicker. But she wasn’t going to have it yet...

He yanked her off the sofa with one hand, making her collapse to her knees on the wooden floor with a dry thud that made her kneecaps vibrate with pain. The floor was icy, almost burning her hot skin. She didn’t even have time to breathe.

His cock was straight as a rod, the head swollen, veins standing out like ropes, gleaming with saliva that dripped in sticky strands. The smell was dense, animalic – the heavy balls swinging centimeters from her nose, the sweat from a whole night clinging to his pubic hair, that raw aroma of testosterone and sex.

— Open up wide, you’re just a hole for me.

Jeongyeon opened. Her mouth gaping, her tongue already stretched out, thick saliva dripping from the corners of her lips even before the first touch. Her eyes, glazed and eager, never left his cock.

He spat thickly on the head, the warm spit running down the shaft. He held the base with one hand and the nape of her neck with the other, his fingers digging into her short hair, pulling until the roots burned. And then he entered.

His cock slid straight to the dark back of her throat. Her nose slammed against his pelvic bone with a wet smack. She felt the gag reflex, a violent spasm, but swallowed it back — swallowed the discomfort, the air, her very core. Her throat contracted, tightened, molded around him like a glove of warm flesh. He held it there. The count was cruel in his eyes: five, six, seven seconds. Jeongyeon’s world turned red and throbbing behind her closed eyelids.

When he pulled back, a thick, pearly strand of saliva stretched between her swollen lips and the shiny head of his cock, snapping and falling with a ploft on the floor. She coughed, a hoarse, ragged sound, but he was already coming back, faster, deeper, without mercy. The rhythm became a fucking machine: his hips pumping in a hypnotic back-and-forth, his cock disappearing completely in that obedient mouth, coming out only halfway to show how drenched it was, and returning with full force until his heavy balls slapped against her wet chin.

— That’s it, whore. Swallow it nice. Every idol should know how to open her throat like this for her fans, right? — he grunted, the movement never stopping. — But you’re special. You’re the slut who asks for it.

Each thrust made a wet, obscene sound. Saliva sprayed, dripping onto her breasts, running in rivulets down her trembling abdomen and forming a growing puddle between her knees. Hot tears cut paths through her mascara, drawing black, sloppy lines on her cheeks. Her face was a perfect picture of destruction: red, shiny, unrecognizable.

He changed the angle, pulling her head even further back, straightening the canal. Now it went in straight, meeting the resistance of the tracheal ring. He forced it, felt her body yield, and then held it deep.

— Count with me, you little slut. One… two… three… — his voice was a growl of pleasure and dominance.

Her fingers clawed into his thighs, her nails leaving red crescent marks. But it wasn’t to push him away. It was to pull him. To bring him further inside. A muffled, desperate moan escaped her, and the words spilled out between gags:

— “Fuck… fuck it all, please… don’t stop…”

He laughed, a low, victorious sound.

— Look at that. The unnie has turned into a dick addict. See what you are? A hole that begs. Take it then.

He sped up. His hips were now a merciless piston, his sack slapping against her chin with every pump. The dirty symphony intensified: the wet impact of flesh, the hoarse gags that sounded like consent, his ragged breathing, her muffled, tearful moans that were the only prayer she knew in that moment. His cock swelled, pulsed, a delicious threat deep in her throat.

— I’m gonna come. And you’re gonna swallow it all. Every drop. It’s your milk, slut. Your payment.

He growled, his voice broken by the imminence of release. He grabbed her nape with both hands, his fingers like claws, and buried himself as deep as he could. Her nose crushed against his sweaty groin, his balls pressed against her chin. She felt the first spurt, hot and thick, hitting the walls of her throat directly. Then another, and another, a flood of seed that she swallowed in convulsive gulps. The excess rose up her nose, burning, and dripped from the ruined corners of her mouth, mixing with saliva and tears.

When he finally pulled out, it was with a loud, vulgar sucking sound, his cock coming out coated in a white, translucent slime.

Jeongyeon stayed there, on her knees, dismantled. Her face was a mask of filth and submission. Drool and cum hung from her chin and breasts. Her breath came in ragged gasps, her whole body trembling like a green reed. The floor around her was a swamp of her own fluids. She lifted her gaze, her red eyes pleading from behind the ruined makeup, and let out a moan that was less than a whisper, the final confession of an addict:

— “…more… I need more… cover my face again…”

He took a step back, his cock still half-hard and dirty, but the tension had already dissipated from his body. He looked at her, on her knees in the puddle she’d made herself, with her face smeared, dirty with spit, tears, and his own cum. Instead of satisfaction, a deep, cold boredom passed through his eyes. The coke had already worn off, leaving only the void and the nausea of the morning after excess.

— Enough. — His voice was flat, emotionless. He turned his back, picked his shirt off the floor and wiped his chest with disdain. — It’s done, Jeongyeon. It got repetitive.

She swallowed dryly, her throat still burning. Her eyes, once glazed with submission, now widened in panic.

— What? No… Wait. — Her voice came out hoarse and broken. She crawled forward, her knees slipping on the wet floor. Her trembling hands tried to grab his leg. — Please. We haven’t even really started. I can… I can do better. Give me one more chance.

He avoided her touch with a quick movement, as if stepping away from something disgusting.

— Look at you. — He spat the words, contempt dripping like venom. — You’re pathetic. A wet mess. It’s not even pleasurable anymore. It’s just sad.

He dressed quickly, his movements efficient and final. Every piece of clothing he put on was a wall being erected. He didn’t even look at her anymore.

— No! — The shout came out more like a sob. She clutched at her own nakedness, her dirty breasts trembling. The need, now rejected, turned into a physical desperation, an unbearable itch in her guts. — Don’t leave! Please, just use me… use me again!

He was already at the door. He looked back one last time, but not at her. At the disgusting scene on the floor. He made a clicking sound of disdain with his tongue against the roof of his mouth.

— Finish yourself off. That’s all you deserve now.

The door closed with a dry, final click.

The silence that fell was more brutal than any word. Jeongyeon remained still, the humiliation burning hotter than the cum in her throat. The emptiness he left was physical, a sharp, wet pain between her legs. His contempt was the only stimulus left.

A convulsive sob escaped. Then another. Her hands, once supplicant, went down on their own. Her fingers, still sticky with his saliva, found her own swollen, throbbing sex, absurdly wet and neglected. It wasn’t a caress. It was a brutal excavation, a punishment and a remedy at the same time.

She threw herself onto her back on the cold, soaked floor, her fingers hammering her clit with a self-destructive fury. The image was only of him turning his back. The sound was only of the door closing. She wanted to erase that, to fill that vacuum of contempt with anything.

— You bastard… you bastard… — she groaned through clenched teeth, not from pleasure, but from hatred and addiction, her hips arching violently against her own hand.

It was fast, ugly, and intense. It wasn’t a wave, it was an explosion. A brutal spasm ran through her body and a hot, unexpected jet gushed from inside her, hitting the air and falling back onto her stomach, her breasts, her face. A strong, obscene squirt, a physical relief so overwhelming it stole the air from her lungs.

In short, his eyes couldn’t look away from her, that gaze that said everything in just one second... that gaze full of desire and longing to do the forbidden with his current girlfriend’s daughter.

Saturday, 6:42 a.m.

The house still smelled of freshly brewed coffee and the detergent her mother used for the kitchen tiles. Outside, the sun was just peeking through, filtering through the blinds and drawing golden lines on the floor. Yuna slowly opened her eyes, feeling the weight of the duvet on her bare legs. She hadn’t put anything on to sleep: just an old cotton T-shirt that rode up to her waist when she moved, exposing her round, taut hips, and the start of her ass—the one she trained so hard at the gym, the one Juno stared at so much when he thought she wasn’t looking.

She stretched slowly. The first rays of sunlight touched her thighs, highlighting the softness of her skin, barely tanned, without a single mark. She touched her stomach, ran her fingers down to the edge of the T-shirt, feeling the warmth of her own body. And she smiled.

6:55 a.m.

She went downstairs barefoot. There was no one on the ground floor yet. Her mother had left the night before on a business trip. Two days. Just the two of them in the house.

She knew Juno got up early. He was one of those men who got up to run, to exercise, to shower, and then sit down to read the newspaper with his shirt open and his feet bare. She liked his ritual. She liked interrupting it even more.

She stopped on the last step. Juno was in the kitchen, his back turned, pouring himself coffee.

Yuna didn’t say anything. She just leaned against the doorframe, crossing her arms under her chest. The T-shirt tightened slightly, and she wasn’t wearing anything underneath. She could feel the cool air of the kitchen raising goosebumps on her nipples, how the cotton brushed her skin with every breath.

Juno turned slowly. The coffee cup in his hand, his eyes still sleepy, but when he saw her, he blinked. He stood still. He didn’t speak. He just looked at her.

She took a step closer. Then another. Her bare feet made barely any noise on the cold tiles. She stopped in front of him, close enough for him to smell her freshly awakened skin, but far enough that he couldn’t touch her yet.

—Did you run? —she asked, her voice still hoarse with sleep.

Juno nodded. He didn’t take his eyes off her mouth.

—And did you sweat a lot? —she continued, tilting her head slightly.

He swallowed. The movement was visible in his throat. She took another step closer, close enough for her nipples to almost brush his chest, but without touching him. Her hands rested on the kitchen counter, on either side of her hips. She circled him without touching him.

—You smell like exercise —she whispered, moving closer to his neck without touching it. And she smelled him. Slowly. From the hollow of his collarbone to the line of his jaw. She stopped near his ear. —I like it.

Juno closed his eyes. He clenched his fists on the counter. He didn’t move.

She took a step back. She turned, showing him her back. The T-shirt had ridden up slightly, just to where her buttocks began to curve. She wasn’t wearing anything underneath. She slowly bent down to open the fridge, arching her back, spreading her legs slightly. The cotton tightened over her buttocks, outlining every line, every muscle, every curve.

She stayed like that a few seconds longer than necessary. She knew he was watching her. She could feel it. The silence was thick, charged with something they didn’t dare name yet.

When she stood up, she had a glass of juice in her hand. She turned to him. Juno was still in the same place, but now his eyes were darker, wetter. He looked at her with a mix of desire and guilt, as if he had already crossed a line in his mind.

She approached him again. This time, she stopped right in front of him. She leaned forward slightly, letting the edge of her T-shirt brush his skin. Her nipples, hard and visible under the fabric, almost brushed his chest.

—Do you want to try my juice? —she asked, without parting her lips from a smile.

Juno didn’t answer. But his breathing had become heavier. She raised the glass, took a sip without taking her eyes off him. Then she licked her lower lip slowly.

—It’s very sweet —she whispered. —Do you want some?

He nodded slightly. She moved closer. She put the glass to his lips. He drank. One sip. Two. She didn’t take her hand away. Her fingers brushed his knuckles. Juno trembled slightly.

—Do you like it? —she asked.

—Yes —he replied, for the first time. His voice came out hoarse, broken.

She smiled. She took a step back. Then, without saying anything more, she turned and left the kitchen. She went upstairs slowly, letting her hips move with each step, knowing he was watching her. Knowing he wouldn’t move for a while.

She went into her room. She closed the door quietly. She leaned against it. She took a deep breath. She smiled.

Yuna spread her legs wider, sliding her fingers between the wet folds of her vagina. The heat was intense, sticky, delicious. Her clitoris was already swollen, sensitive, and every touch of her fingers sent a wave of pleasure through her spine. She pressed her lips together to keep from moaning too loudly, even though she knew Juno was downstairs, just one floor away, and the idea that he might hear her excited her even more.

She imagined him coming in without knocking, with that dark look she had seen before, the look of a man who no longer asks himself if he should, but when.

—Do you like this, you little slut? —she whispered in her mind, imitating his hoarse voice—. Do you like me seeing you like this, open, wet, thinking about my cock?

Yuna writhed against the sheet, arching her back. With one hand she continued rubbing her clitoris in circular motions, faster and faster, more precise. With the other, she slid two fingers inside her vagina, which received the entry with a small wet click. She squeezed inside, feeling her own warmth, her own tension. It wasn’t enough. She wanted more. She wanted to fill herself up.

She took her fingers out, brought them to her mouth, and licked them slowly, savoring her own taste. Then she brought them back down, this time further back, to the edge of her anus, which pulsed with every beat of her heart. She brushed it with the tip of her finger, barely, and her whole body tensed. She closed her eyes, biting her lip.

—Do you want me to touch you here too, you whore? —she imagined Juno saying, while she nodded, begging him to do it.

She pressed a little harder, feeling how her anus relaxed slightly, how desire clouded her judgment. She didn’t want softness. She wanted him to use her. To see her for what she was: a bitch in heat, who masturbated thinking about her mother’s boyfriend.

She went back to her vagina, now wetter than before. She inserted three fingers, stretching, feeling how it opened for them. The pleasure was dense, deep, as if every thrust of her fingers brought her closer to the edge. But she didn’t want to finish yet. She wanted to prolong it. She wanted desire to burn her.

She got on her knees on the bed, resting her chest on the pillow, her ass in the air. With one hand she reached her clitoris from behind, with the other she supported herself on the bed. She imagined Juno was behind her, holding her buttocks, spreading them, looking at her whole body.

—Looking at you like this… it drives me crazy —she imagined him saying—. I want to break you, Yuna. I want to fill you with cum while you call my name like the little slut you are.

She moaned, louder this time. Her fingers moved faster, more precisely. She felt how her vagina contracted, how her anus pulsed with every imaginary thrust. She squeezed harder, faster, until pleasure took her by storm, like a wave that drowned her. She grabbed her buttocks with one hand, squeezing them, while her orgasm ran through her whole body, leaving her trembling, gasping, with her fingers still inside, soaking wet.

She fell on her side, her legs trembling, her chest rising and falling hard. Her skin was covered in sweat, her T-shirt stuck to her body, her mouth slightly open.

He didn’t deny it. Just leaned closer, voice dropping. “Maybe I do.”

Winter looked away, breath shallow. “You said you liked me because I’m different. That I’m not like other girls.”

“I meant it.”

And in that moment, she wanted to believe him.

He touched her thigh. Just above the knee. Gentle, warm.

“You know you don’t have to do anything,” he said. “We can just chill.”

But she shook her head. Not because she felt pressured. But because she did want something. Him. His hands. His closeness. That dizzy, aching feeling she got whenever he looked at her like she was more than some girl sitting on his bed.

Winter leaned in first.

Their lips touched. Soft at first. Testing.

Then he kissed her like he meant it.

His hand slid up her side, tentative at first, then bolder as he found the edge of her shirt. She stiffened slightly when his fingers brushed the underside of her bra.

“Hey,” he murmured against her lips. “You okay?”

She nodded slowly, but her breath came fast. “I’ve just… never done this.”

He kissed her again, slower. “We’ll go slow. Only what you’re comfortable with.”

His fingers explored again, this time lifting the fabric gently. She gasped when he cupped one breast—small, firm, her nipple pebbling under his palm.

“You’re beautiful,” he whispered.

Winter blushed, her eyes fluttering shut. “Don’t say that just because you want to see them.”

“I’m saying it because it’s true.”

He slid her shirt up, slow enough to let her stop him. She didn’t. Her bra followed next. Her hands twitched like she might cover herself, but he caught her wrists, kissed her knuckles, and guided her arms back down.

“Let me see you,” he said. “Please.”

So she did.

And Jaemin looked at her like she was something rare—not something to take, but something to worship.

Winter sat still, bare from the waist up, arms at her sides, chest rising and falling fast. Her nipples were tight, flushed pink from the cool air and his warm gaze. She'd never let anyone see her like this. But she didn't feel exposed. Not under the way he looked at her.

He leaned in slowly, hands cradling her waist as his lips pressed to her collarbone. Then lower. His mouth dragged across her chest, soft, reverent.

When he reached her breast, he kissed around the edge first. Then, without a word, his lips closed around her nipple.

Winter gasped.

He sucked gently, tongue circling, then flicking as his hand massaged the other. Heat pooled low in her stomach. She felt every pull like a tug inside her—deep, aching.

“Jae...” she whispered, eyes fluttering.

He groaned softly against her skin. “Tell me if it’s too much.”

She shook her head. “Don’t stop.”

His other hand slid lower. Down her stomach. Past the waistband of her skirt. He paused, looking at her.

“Can I?”

She nodded. A tiny sound left her throat when his fingers slipped past her underwear.

“You're so wet,” he breathed, stroking gently. “Is this all for me?”

She bit her lip, barely able to speak. “I think about you all the time.”

His fingers found her clit, slow circles that made her back arch. All while his mouth stayed on her breast, tongue teasing her peak until she whimpered.

Then one finger dipped lower. Slid in. Her body clenched around him.

“God, you're tight...” he muttered. He pulled back slightly to watch her face.

Winter was flushed, lips parted, hips moving without meaning to.

He added another finger.

She moaned, soft and high, hands fisting in the bedsheets. His thumb pressed up just right, working her slowly while his mouth sucked harder.

She was falling apart.

And he hadn't even undressed yet.

Winter lay beneath him, flushed and trembling, her chest rising fast. Her nipples were slick from his mouth, and between her legs, his fingers moved in slow, knowing circles. She could barely think, barely speak. Every sound from her lips was soft, helpless.

Jaemin watched her carefully. “Lift your hips a little,” he said, voice low.

She blinked. “Why?”

“Just making you more comfortable,” he said, sliding a pillow beneath her lower back. Her hips tilted, her thighs parting slightly.

She squirmed. “I didn’t know it was like this...”

“Like what?” he asked, pausing.

“All this touching,” she said, cheeks burning. “I thought it was just... you know. The actual part.”

Jaemin smiled gently and leaned over to kiss her nose. “It can be. But it’s better like this. Slower. I want you to enjoy everything, not just get through it.”

Her lips parted. That made her chest ache in a way she didn’t expect. “You mean... you don’t just want to... do it and stop?”

He shook his head, brushing his thumb over her belly. “No, baby. I want to know every sound you make. Every way your body reacts. That’s the part I want most.”

Winter swallowed. “Even... my boobs?”

He chuckled, low and warm. “Especially your boobs.”

She gave a tiny nervous laugh, but didn’t stop him when he leaned down again, taking one breast into his mouth, tongue swirling her nipple until her fingers curled in the sheets.

He kissed down her stomach next. Slow, reverent.

“Can I taste you?” he asked, mouth at the hem of her underwear.

Her legs tensed. “Do you have to?”

He looked up. “No. I don’t have to. But I want to. You don’t have to let me if you’re uncomfortable.”

Winter hesitated. Her voice was a whisper. “It just feels so... personal.”

“It is,” he said. “But that’s why it matters.”

She looked at the ceiling, breath shaky. Then nodded. “Okay... just be gentle.”

“Always,” he promised.

He slid her panties down slowly, watching her the whole time. When she was bare, she turned her head and bit her lip, but she didn’t stop him.

“Put your hands up again,” he said softly. “Let me take care of you.”

She did.

He opened her with gentle fingers, kissed the inside of her thighs, then finally leaned in. The first touch of his tongue made her jolt.

“Oh… oh god,” she gasped, legs twitching.

“Is that okay?”

She nodded fast, face flushed. “It’s… more intense than I thought.”

He smiled against her, then continued—slow, soft strokes with his tongue as his hand returned to her chest, cupping and teasing.

“You’re doing perfect,” he murmured. “Just let go. Let me show you how good it can feel.”

She whimpered, breath shaking as she surrendered.

Jaemin eased back, lips glistening, eyes dark with want. He moved slowly up her body, planting soft kisses along her belly, then her ribs, until he hovered just above her face.

Winter looked up at him, still breathless. Her cheeks were flushed, lips parted, eyes dazed from the way he’d made her feel.

He brushed a hand gently over her hair. “You okay?”

She nodded. “It’s... a lot. But I’m okay.”

“You’re doing amazing,” he said softly.

He sat back on his knees and pulled his shirt off, revealing a lean chest and a small scar under his ribs. Winter touched it, silent. Then her gaze drifted down.

“Can I see?” she asked.

He gave a small nod and pushed his sweats down. He was already hard, thick and flushed dark. Winter blinked, unsure if she should stare or look away.

“You okay?” he asked.

She gave a shy laugh. “It looks... kind of scary.”

He smiled. “That’s normal. You don’t have to do anything. But if you want, I can show you.”

She hesitated, then nodded slowly. “Okay. I want to try.”

He took her hand and wrapped it around him, guiding her movements. It was warm and heavy in her palm. Strange. Not bad—just new.

“That feels good,” he murmured. “Just like that.”

She watched him, curious, then leaned down and gave the tip a tentative kiss. It tasted faintly salty. Her nose wrinkled.

“You okay?”

“It’s just... weird,” she admitted. “It’s not like I thought.”

“Most first times are weird,” he said gently. “Don’t force yourself.”

She tried again, taking him into her mouth, just a little. The shape was awkward, her jaw strained quickly, and she pulled back with a quiet cough.

He was already reaching for her, helping her sit up. “It’s okay. We can stop.”

“I want to learn,” she said softly. “But I didn’t think it would feel so... icky in my mouth.”

He laughed quietly. Not unkind. Just real. “It can. It gets better. But only if you want to keep going.”

She nodded, unsure. Her fingers stayed on him, stroking slowly. That felt easier. More natural.

“This okay?” she asked.

“Perfect,” he said, voice rough. “Just having you touch me... I love that.”

She smiled faintly. Still unsure. Still curious. But willing to try.

Jaemin leaned back against the headboard, his eyes heavy-lidded, chest rising with uneven breath. Winter knelt beside him now, bare from the waist up, still flushed from everything he'd done to her. Her fingers stayed curled around him, moving slowly, watching his reactions.

He groaned softly. “That feels really good.”

Winter bit her lip. “You're really... hard.”

“That's all you,” he said with a lazy grin.

She rolled her eyes but smiled. Her nerves still sat under her skin, but the look on his face every time she touched him made her feel something close to brave.

Jaemin reached out and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “You sure you're okay?”

She nodded. “Yeah. Just still getting used to all this.”

“Want to stop?”

Winter hesitated, then shook her head. “No. I want to know what it feels like. For you. I want to learn everything.”

He smiled, kissed her forehead. “We’ll take our time.”

She leaned down again, kissed the tip, slower this time. Her lips parted, and she took him in, breathing through her nose. He was thick, awkward in her mouth, but this time she didn’t pull back right away. She moved carefully, remembering his voice, the way his hand had guided her.

Jaemin exhaled, hand brushing her hair back. “Fuck, Winter...”

His praise lit something in her. She bobbed her head a little, feeling him slide along her tongue. The taste was still strange, but his pleasure made it worth it.

Then, without warning, his hand gripped the back of her head and he thrust up into her mouth.

Winter gagged hard, eyes wide, trying to pull back but his hips followed, deep and sudden. She slapped his thigh twice, fast. He stopped instantly.

She pulled off, coughing, wiping her mouth. “Ow,” she rasped, blinking through the shock. “What the hell was that?”

Jaemin winced. “Shit. I’m sorry. That was too much.”

Her brows knit as she caught her breath, glaring half-heartedly. “You said we were taking our time.”

“I know. I got carried away.”

She narrowed her eyes, then smacked his chest. “Next time, warn me before you try to deepthroat me like that.”

He laughed, sheepish. “You’re right. I will. Promise.”

Winter rubbed her jaw, muttering, “Felt like my throat got punched.”

He kissed her hand. “Still love me?”

She gave him a long look. Then grinned. “Maybe. If you behave.”

He pulled her into his lap, arms around her waist. “I can be good.”

“I doubt it,” she whispered against his neck, but her voice was softer now. “But I still want you.”

She looked down at him again, now fully hard between them, her breath catching. The nerves hadn’t disappeared, but something else was rising in her—curiosity, ache, boldness.

He brushed his lips against her ear. “You want to try again?”

Winter swallowed, nodded. “Yeah. But this time, if you want to... move like before... tell me first.”

“Deal,” he murmured. “And I want you to touch yourself while I’m in your mouth. Can you do that for me?”

She hesitated, then nodded again, her cheeks burning. “I’ll try.”

They shifted again—him back against the headboard, her kneeling between his legs. He guided her hand to his cock and watched her lips part as she leaned down, more sure this time. She opened her mouth for him.

“Good girl,” he whispered, his hand resting gently on the back of her head.

She started slow—lips slick, jaw tight, tongue tracing his length. The taste still made her flinch faintly, but she didn’t stop.

“Touch yourself,” he breathed. “Let me hear you while you take me.”

Winter reached down, fingers slipping between her thighs. Her gasp vibrated around him.

“Fuck, that’s it,” Jaemin groaned. “Just like that.”

He moved—slowly at first, guiding her rhythm. She followed his lead, taking more with each bob of her head. Her fingers circled her clit, heat spreading fast and low through her belly.

“Ready for more?” he asked, voice strained.

She pulled off just enough to whisper, “Yes. Please.”

He tightened his grip in her hair, not rough—but firm. “Breathe through your nose. Relax your throat.”

Then he began to thrust—shallow, careful, but deeper. She moaned around him, the pressure intense, her fingers moving faster between her legs.

The room filled with the slick sound of her mouth, her soft whimpers, his choked groans.

“Winter—fuck, I’m close—”

She looked up at him, eyes watering, lips stretched. Her hand trembled between her thighs.

That did it. He spilled with a gasp, pulsing hot onto her tongue. She flinched, startled, but didn’t pull away.

As the taste hit her, her body spasmed—waves crashing, heat breaking, her orgasm tearing through her unexpectedly. Her thighs shook, her fingers soaked.

She pulled off him, gasping, flushed, dazed.

Jaemin looked down at her, stunned. “You just...?”

She nodded, catching her breath. “I think I squirted.”

He reached down, cupped her face gently, kissed her forehead. “You’re unbelievable.”

Winter huffed, swiping at the corner of her mouth with the back of her hand. “You came so much, Jaemin. That was disgusting.”

He laughed, pulling her gently up into his lap. “You didn’t have to swallow it all.”

She smacked his chest lightly. “I tried not to, but you were holding my head and—you didn’t even warn me!”

He grinned, nosing into her hair as he hugged her tight. “You looked so fucking pretty, I couldn’t help it.”

She was still catching her breath, her body sore and humming. She leaned against him, then paused.

“…Wait. Are you still hard?”

Jaemin didn’t answer at first. He just shifted, and she felt it again—thick, hot, still pressed between them.

Winter blinked up at him, eyes wide. “Seriously?”

He kissed her cheek. “You didn’t think I was done, did you?”

Her brows rose. “You just came in my mouth. And I—ugh—I think I squirted all over your sheets.”

“You did,” he said proudly. “Twice.”

She covered her face with both hands. “This is the most embarrassing night of my life.”

He gently pulled her hands down. “It’s the hottest night of mine.”

She narrowed her eyes. “So now what?”

Jaemin leaned in, his voice lower, rougher. “Now you let me fuck you.”

Winter stilled. Her heartbeat skipped.

“You’re already open for me,” he said, hands sliding down to her waist. “Already dripping, already mine.”

She looked down between them, then back at him. Her cheeks burned, but she didn’t pull away.

“I want you to feel it,” he whispered. “Really feel me this time.”

Her throat tightened. She bit her lip. Then gave a small, shaky nod. “Okay.”

Jaemin kissed her, deep and slow.

Winter’s hands curled into his shoulders as he shifted over her, gently guiding her down onto the bed. Her back hit the sheets, and he settled between her legs, kissing her neck, her collarbone, the soft line between her breasts.

He took his time. Palms smoothing down her sides, fingertips grazing her hips. She felt stripped down in more ways than one.

“Bend your knees for me,” he whispered.

She did. Legs parted, breath catching.

He wrapped one arm beneath her thigh and reached down with the other, guiding himself to her entrance.

“Breathe, baby. Just feel me.”

Winter whimpered as the tip pressed against her. Even after everything, it was still intimidating—the size, the heat, the pressure. Her body tensed.

“It’s okay,” Jaemin said softly, kissing her temple. “We go slow.”

He pushed in gently. She gasped.

“Jaemin—” Her voice trembled. “It hurts a little.”

“I know.” He paused, still just at the entrance. “Let your body adjust. You’re doing so good.”

She nodded, tears pricking her lashes. “It feels... weird. Like I shouldn’t be doing this.”

His brow furrowed. “You don’t want to?”

“I do. I do,” she said quickly. “I just... I keep thinking about how I’ve never let anyone see me like this. And now you’re inside me. And I can’t ever take that back.”

He pressed his forehead to hers. “I’ll never forget this either. But if there’s even a piece of you that’s not ready—”

She cut him off with a shaky kiss. “I want to. I’m just scared.”

“Then let me take care of you,” he whispered.

He pushed deeper, inch by inch, her body stretching around him. She cried out softly, gripping his arms.

“Shhh, I got you,” he murmured. “Almost there.”

The burn was real—full and raw—but her body pulsed around him, craving more even through the ache.

When he finally bottomed out, they both stilled. Her breath came in shallow gasps.

“I’m full,” she whispered. “I didn’t know it would feel like this.”

“Is it too much?”

“No,” she said, eyes wet. “Just... don’t move yet.”

He kissed her jaw. “Take your time.”

She felt everything. Every beat of his heart inside her. Every breath he took. And slowly, her fear ebbed, replaced by something new.

Winter shifted beneath him, hips twitching. The stretch still ached, but it was beginning to melt into something warmer. He kissed her softly.

“Can I move now?” he asked, voice low.

She nodded. “Yeah. I think I want you to.”

Jaemin pulled out just slightly, then eased back in. Her breath hitched. Her legs instinctively wrapped around his waist.

He groaned. “You feel insane. Like you were made for me.”

Each thrust was slow, deliberate, letting her feel every inch. Her hands gripped his shoulders, her moans growing louder with each push.

Then he shifted his weight, hips angling deeper. She gasped—sharp, startled.

“There?” he asked.

She nodded fast, nails digging into his back. “Right there.”

He picked up the pace—still careful, but harder now, more controlled. Their bodies slapped together with wet heat, her cries broken by breathless whimpers.

“Jaemin—” Her voice cracked. “Oh my god.”

“You’re doing so good,” he whispered, sweat sliding down his spine. “So fucking tight. Can you give me more?”

She looked up, dazed. “More?”

He kissed her lips. “Turn over for me. I want to see you like that.”

Winter hesitated, blinking. “Like... from behind?”

“Only if you want it,” he said, brushing hair from her face. “I’ll go slow. I promise.”

She bit her lip, then nodded. “Okay. I trust you.”

He pulled out slowly, helping her roll onto her stomach. She lifted her hips, arms braced beneath her, heart pounding.

Jaemin slid back behind her, hands on her waist. “Just relax, baby.”

She felt the tip again—hot, slick, nudging her open.

Then he pushed back in. Winter moaned loud into the pillow, the angle hitting deeper, fuller.

“Oh—Jaemin—”

He gripped her hips, rolling his hips slow and steady.

“That's it,” he growled. “Take it all. Let me see how deep I can go.”

She arched into him, her body opening without hesitation now.

There was no room left for guilt.

Jaemin felt the change in her body—the way her hips pushed back to meet him, the breathless way she moaned with each thrust. No more hesitation. No more doubt.

She wanted this. All of him.

He gripped her hips tighter, his rhythm turning rougher, deeper. The sound of their bodies filled the room, wet and fast, skin on skin.

Winter gasped, her back arching instinctively. He watched the curve of her spine, the way she opened for him like she couldn’t get enough.

“Just like that,” he growled. “You’re perfect like this.”

She tried to speak, but it came out a broken moan. He leaned forward, chest pressing to her back, never stopping.

One hand slid under her, catching her breasts. He kneaded gently at first, then firmer, thumbs brushing her nipples until she cried out.

“You like that?” he whispered against her ear.

She nodded, breathless. “Yes—yes, please—”

He grinned, kissed the side of her neck, then her jaw, then her mouth—catching her lips in a deep, desperate kiss while he drove into her harder than before.

She whimpered into his mouth, her body trembling under the intensity.

“I can’t—Jaemin—I’m gonna—”

“Let go,” he said, voice rough. “Let me feel you come around me.”

His rhythm turned relentless. Her hands clutched the sheets. Her cries turned to gasps as her body shook, arching even harder into him.

She came with a soft, choked sob, her legs twitching, body clenching around him in waves.

And Jaemin wasn’t far behind.

Winter collapsed against the sheets, her body a trembling mess of sweat and slick skin. Her limbs were heavy, boneless, her chest rising in uneven waves. Every nerve felt exposed. She blinked up at the ceiling, dazed.

Then she felt him move behind her.

A strong arm looped under her back, lifting her carefully. She let out a tiny, startled breath as he pulled her into his lap, her thighs spreading instinctively around his waist.

“Why are you still so hard?” she murmured, voice hoarse.

He kissed her shoulder. “Because I’m not done with you.”

Her head lolled against his. “Jaemin, I can barely move.”

“Then I’ll move you.”

She barely registered it—his hand guiding himself to her again. The thick heat of him nudging against her sore, soaked entrance.

“Wait—” she breathed. But it wasn’t protest. Just shock.

“You can take it,” he whispered. “You’re still so wet.”

And she was. Her body welcomed him, pulsing around the stretch. She gasped as he slid inside, inch by inch.

“Oh my god—”

Jaemin groaned beneath her, his hands gripping her hips. “You feel unreal. You were made for this.”

She whimpered as he began to move her—lifting, lowering—using the strength of his arms to bounce her gently on his cock. The angle hit different. Every thrust deeper. She was too sensitive, too full, and yet it made her ache in the best way.

Her hands braced on his chest. “Jaemin—”

He kissed her hard, tongue stroking hers as he fucked up into her with longer strokes. His moans were rough, guttural.

“You’re so tight. Fuck, I’m not gonna last.”

She was already on the edge again. Her clit rubbed against him with every grind, her breath sharp and wild.

“I’m gonna—Jaemin, I’m gonna—”

“Look at me,” he said.

She opened her eyes. His face was flushed, mouth open, eyes dark and locked on hers.

“Come for me. Now.”

Her body obeyed. Her head snapped back as the orgasm hit, a sharp scream ripping from her throat. She clenched around him, shaking hard.

And he lost it.

He thrust up one last time, hard and deep. His shout echoed through the room as he came inside her, his arms wrapped around her, holding her down.

She felt it—every pulse, every spurt. Hot, raw, filling her until it leaked around him.

“Fuck—Winter—” he gasped, shaking under her. “So good—so fucking good—”

They collapsed together, tangled in limbs, breathless and soaked. Her head fell against his shoulder, her thighs twitching around his waist.

For a long time, neither of them moved.

She could feel him inside her. Softening. His cum still deep where he left it.

“Did you really just...?” she whispered.

He nodded, brushing hair from her cheek. “I couldn’t stop.”

Her breath shook. “I didn’t stop you.”

His voice softened. “Are you okay?”

Winter nodded slowly, lips parting in something close to a smile.

“Yeah. I just... I’ve never felt anything like that.”

Jaemin pulled the blanket around them both, still buried inside her. He kissed her forehead.

“Neither have I.”

Winter collapsed against Jaemin’s chest, still wrapped around him. Their skin stuck with sweat, the scent of sex heavy between them. Her body trembled in aftershocks, muscles twitching from the relentless rhythm he’d given her.

Jaemin kissed her shoulder, her jaw, her temple—then eased her off his lap. She whimpered faintly as he slipped out of her, a slick trail of warmth sliding after him.

“Stay open for me,” he said, gently guiding her thighs apart.

She lay back, legs splayed, too far gone to protest. He knelt between them, his gaze fixed on the mess leaking from her.

“Look at you,” he murmured, dragging two fingers through the creamy mix between her folds. “So full.”

Winter flushed. “It’s dripping out...”

“I know,” he said, voice thick. “That’s mine. All of it.”

He pressed his fingers back inside her slowly, watching her squirm. “Still so soft, but your body’s sucking me in. Like it doesn’t want to let go.”

She moaned, hips twitching. His thumb rubbed gentle circles over her clit while his fingers curled inside.

“You’re still wet,” he whispered. “Still open for me. You liked it that much?”

Winter nodded, eyes heavy. “I didn’t know it could feel that good.”

Jaemin pulled his fingers out slowly, coated in everything. He brought them to her lips.

“Taste it,” he said.

She blinked at him, but opened her mouth. He slid his fingers onto her tongue, and she sucked them clean with slow, shy licks.

He groaned. “Fuck, you’re perfect.”

Then he leaned back, his cock still semi-hard, glistening. “Help me with this,” he said, nodding.

Winter pushed herself up, crawling toward him. She took him into her mouth without a word, licking him clean—every drop of herself, of him. Her lips worked gently, tongue tracing every line.

When she finished, she kissed the tip and rested her cheek against his thigh.

“That was the most intimate thing anyone’s ever done to me,” she whispered.

Jaemin stroked her hair. “You gave me everything.”

He pulled her into his arms, laid her against his chest. “Sleep. I’ll be here.”

But morning came.

The bed was cold.

Winter woke slowly, blinking at the unfamiliar light. The room was quiet. Too quiet.

She turned. Empty.

No clothes on the chair. No breath beside her.

No Jaemin.

She sat up fast, her heart slamming against her ribs. The blanket slipped down her bare chest. Her body still ached in places she’d never known could feel anything.

She reached for her phone with shaking fingers.

No messages. No missed calls.

She opened their chat.

Last message: You’re mine.

She typed quickly.

Winter: “Where did you go?”

Winter: “Are you okay?”

Winter: “Please don’t ghost me.”

Message failed to send.

Blocked.

The screen dimmed. Her hands shook. She checked Instagram.

Unfollowed.

His profile? Gone.

Snapchat? Disconnected.

Every app. Every thread. Every trace of him—cut.

Her breath hitched. Her eyes burned.

The night before replayed in flashes—his fingers in her mouth, his hands holding her hips, the way she whispered yes when he told her she was his.

He looked like he meant it.

She curled up, knees to her chest. The soreness between her thighs throbbed. But it wasn’t sweet.

It was a bruise.

Three days later, she heard his name again.

A bathroom stall. Girls whispering outside the sink.

“He actually made her ride him after creaming inside her?”

“She sucked him clean after. Like, full surrender. He said she begged for it.”

“She’s a freak. No wonder he won.”

Laughter.

Winter sat frozen on the toilet seat, breath caught in her throat.

Her phone buzzed in her lap. A text from Soojin.

Did you really fuck Jaemin? Was it for a bet? People are talking...

That’s when her stomach dropped.

She didn’t leave the stall. She didn’t reply.

She stared at the floor. Her panties damp. Her thighs sticky.

She felt everything and nothing.

The following week, someone called her the campus slut to her face.

It was a joke. A boy from her economics class.

“You’re Jaemin’s girl, right? Got room for a second round?”

She didn’t flinch.

She looked him in the eye, smiled faintly, and said:

“Depends if you’re going to finish in me too.”

He blinked. Then grinned. “You really don’t care, huh?”

And maybe she didn’t.

Maybe being wanted—even like this—hurt less than being discarded.

The next night, someone else fucked her.

He asked no questions. Used no condom. Came inside her and left.

She lay there after, fingers between her legs, holding it in like it meant something.

That afternoon, it was raining. You stood under the overhang near the science building, waiting for her.

Your shirt collar stuck to your neck. Stella came running with her umbrella half-closed, shoes splashing in puddles, hair a bit messy.

“You waited?” she asked, brushing wet strands from her face.

“Yeah. I said I would.”

She smiled, small but real. “You’re dumb. You could’ve just gone home.”

“And leave you? What would people say about our perfect couple title?” you teased, raising an eyebrow.

She rolled her eyes but her cheeks warmed. “Perfect couple, my ass.”

You walked side by side, sharing the umbrella. The rain was heavy, and it forced you both closer. Her shoulder brushed against your arm every few steps. You didn’t speak much until you reached her stop.

“Come over tomorrow,” she said, voice low.

“Your mom won’t mind?”

“She’s working.” Stella looked away for a second, then back at you. “Just… come.”

The next day, you found yourself standing at her door with your bag slung over your shoulder. She opened it in a grey tank top and shorts, hair tied back lazily.

“Come in,” she said, tugging you inside. The house was quiet, only the sound of rain dripping outside from last night’s storm.

You're inside her room, sit awkwardly on her bed. She brought two glasses of cold tea and set them down aside the nightstand.

“So…” you began, scratching the back of your neck.

“So,” she echoed, sitting cross-legged next from you, staring.

The silence stretched.

She smirked. “You’re bad at this.”

“At what?”

“Dating.”

You shot back, “Like you’re any better.”

That made her laugh, light and genuine. She leaned closer, her knee brushing your leg. “Maybe we both suck, but… at least we suck together.”

You didn’t even realize how close you’d gotten until her breath brushed your lips. Neither of you made the first move right away. It was clumsy, your foreheads almost bumping, but then her mouth found yours.

Her lips were soft, but she kissed you harder the moment she felt you kiss back. Her hand tugged your shirt collar. You caught her waist, pulling her against you.

“Fuck…” she muttered against your lips.

You pulled back, staring. “Did you just—”

“Shut up,” she whispered, dragging you back in.

Her tongue slipped past your lips, tentative at first, then bolder. You groaned softly into her mouth. She pressed down on your lap, her shorts riding higher on her thighs. You felt her heat through the thin fabric, pressing against your growing bulge.

“Stella…” you murmured, half warning, half begging.

She broke the kiss, panting. Her cheeks flushed pink. “Do you… want me to stop?”

The question hung heavy in the air. You shook your head. “No. Don’t stop.”

Her hands moved clumsily to your belt, fumbling. She giggled nervously when she struggled with it. “I’m bad at this.”

“I can tell,” you said, helping her.

When your pants loosened, her palm brushed over the bulge, making you hiss. She stared, lips parted curiously.

“I think you’re hard already…” she whispered, biting her lip.

“You think?” you shot back, voice low.

Her blush deepened. She slid her hand inside, wrapping her fingers around you for the first time. The touch was hesitant, exploring, but it made your hips jolt.

“Shit—Stella…”

She studied your face as she stroked you, slow and uncertain. “Does it… feel good?”

“Yeah. Too good.”

Her hand worked you while she leaned in to kiss again, sloppy and wet. You felt her thighs pressing tighter against you, restless. She shifted, straddling your lap fully, her shorts grinding against your exposed length.

The friction pulled a deep groan out of you. You grabbed her hips, guiding her movements.

“God, you’re wet,” you whispered, feeling the damp patch growing on her shorts.

She hid her face in your neck. “Shut up. Don’t say that.”

“But it’s true,” you teased, rocking up against her.

Her breath hitched. “I want to… but…” She froze a little, hesitation in her tone.

You caught her chin, making her look at you. “We don’t have to do more if you’re not ready.”

Her eyes softened, searching yours. Then she nodded. “I’m ready.”

Her words hit you deep.

She slid her shorts off, tossing them aside. Your eyes dragged over her panties, damp and clinging to her skin. You reached to touch, fingers pressing gently over the wet spot. She gasped, hips twitching.

“Too much?” you asked.

She shook her head quickly. “No… don’t stop.”

You rubbed slow circles, feeling the heat through her panties. She moaned quietly, clinging to your shoulders. Her hips moved on their own, grinding into your hand.

When you finally pushed her panties aside and slid a finger inside, she cried out softly, muffling herself against your chest.

“Fuck… you feel so tight,” you groaned.

She whimpered, clenching around your finger. “Don’t say it like that…”

“You like it,” you teased, curling your finger just right.

Her moans grew needier, raw and unpolished. She clutched at your shirt, knuckles white. You added another finger, stretching her slowly. Her thighs trembled on either side of you.

“I can’t—” she gasped.

“Yes, you can,” you whispered, kissing her ear. “Let it go.”

Her body shook as she came undone on your fingers, wetness spilling against your hand. She clung to you, panting hard, face buried in your neck.

For a while, you just held her, feeling her chest rise and fall against yours.

She was still trembling when you eased her back against you, fingers wet with her release. You brought them up, smearing her slick along your cock, stroking yourself while she caught her breath on your chest. The sound of it—slick, obscene—filled the quiet room.

“I haven’t cum yet,” you said, your voice low, almost rough with need.

Her head snapped up, cheeks hot. “Aish, you so pervert,” she muttered, smacking your chest lightly, though her eyes couldn’t stop darting down to where your cock was standing, glistening with her wetness.

You leaned back on the bed, legs spread, cock jutting up against your stomach. “Help me, please.”

She groaned like you’d just given her the hardest homework. “Tch… at least you say please.”

She shifted, crawling toward you on her knees. The sight alone nearly made you lose control—her tank top slipping down one shoulder, hair messy, face flushed, moving like she couldn’t believe she was doing this but couldn’t stop either.

Her hand wrapped around you, cautious at first, then tightening as she stroked. Your head fell back with a groan. “Fuck… that’s-”

She watched your face, fascinated, lips parting as her strokes grew more steady. Then, without warning, she leaned in, her other hand fumbling unbuttons your shirt, exposed it and pressed her mouth to your chest, kissing down until she found your nipple.

“Stella—” you gasped as her tongue flicked against it, her hand never slowing on your cock.

She smirked against your skin. “You like this?” she teased, giving your nipple a sharp suck before dragging her tongue across to the other side.

“God, yes,” you hissed, bucking up into her grip. Her strokes got faster, her palm wet with the mix of your precum and her own slick still smeared along your shaft.

She moaned softly against your chest, like your reactions turned her on as much as touching you did. Every squeeze of her hand made your abs clench, every wet flick of her tongue sent heat racing down your spine.

You grabbed her hair, not rough, just desperate, holding her close. “If you keep this up, I’m gonna—”

Her strokes tightened, quicker now, her eyes flicking up at you with a daring little smile. “You’re gonna what? cum?”

Your whole body tensed, hips jerking helplessly as the orgasm hit. You groaned loud, spilling across your stomach, her hand still milking you, sliding through the mess.

You collapsed back, chest heaving. Stella sat up slowly, looking at your cum streaked across your skin, her fingers shiny with it. She shook her head, laughing breathlessly.

“You’re really… so pervert,” she whispered again, but the smile tugging her lips betrayed how much she’d enjoyed pushing you there.

She stood, legs a little shaky, and padded across the room barefoot. You watched her, still dazed from release, as she grabbed a few tissues from her desk, wiping her slick hands with quick, embarrassed motions. Then she crouched by her cupboard, rummaged, and pulled out a small square packet.

When she turned back, holding up the condom between her fingers.

“Wanna continue?” she asked, almost too casual, though her cheeks burned red.

You sat up, nodding without words. Rising from the bed, you stripped open your shirt properly this time, loose it fell. Her eyes flicked down your chest before she looked away quickly.

You caught her wrist, pulling her close. She squeaked as you tugged off her thin tank top, leaving only the soft bra hugging her breasts. The sight made your cock twitch back to life, still half-hard.

“Take it off,” she said, voice quiet but steady, a dare hidden in the words.

Your hands hovered around her, hesitant.

She giggled, playful, teasing you. “What? Scared?”

“I’m not scared,” you muttered, fumbling with the straps, trying to work the clasp by touch while staring into her eyes.

“You’re so cocky doing it without seeing,” she laughed, biting her lip. Then she turned around, baring her back to you, the straps cutting across her shoulder blades.

She looked over her shoulder, “Here. Just unclasp it.”

Your fingers shook as they worked the little hooks, struggling more than you wanted to admit, you cursed under your breath at the stubborn clasp.

Finally it snapped loose, the straps falling slack against her arms. She slid the bra down slowly, deliberately, letting it drop to the floor before turning back around, breasts bare and soft, nipples already stiff.

The air caught in your throat.

She tilted her head, grinning shy. “Better?”

She tied her hair up quick, a messy knot high on her head, then glanced down at your lap.

Your cock twitched, still glossy from before, refusing to soften.

“You’re not softening, are you?” she teased, voice sharp but shaky.

Before you could answer, she sank down between your knees, crawling close until her breath fanned hot over your shaft. “Let’s wake our little friend.”

Without warning she wrapped her lips around you, tongue sliding along the tip before taking more of you inside.

“Fuck—Stella…” You groaned, head dropping back into the pillow, every muscle in your body jolting at the sudden wet heat of her mouth.

She bobbed her head slow, clumsy but determined, one hand around your base while her lips stretched around your cock. The sounds—her slurps, the faint gag when she tried to go deeper—drive you crazy.

Your hands found her head, fingers lacing in her tied hair. You bucked your hips just a little, pushing yourself deeper into her mouth.

She whimpered but didn’t pull away, her eyes watering as she sucked harder.

“Good… fuck, that’s good…” you gasped, hips twitching helplessly.

When you were fully hard again, veined and throbbing, she finally pulled off with a wet pop, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. Her chest rose and fell fast, her face glowing red.

She grabbed the condom packet from where she’d set it aside, tore it open with shaky fingers, and rolled the latex down over your cock, smoothing it all the way to the base.

Then she looked up at you, eyes wide, biting her lip. “Ready?”

You reached for her hand, steadying it where she held your cock, the rubbery latex glistening. Her thighs shook as she climbed over you, knees pressed to the bed, eyes flicking down between your bodies like she couldn’t believe what she was about to do.

“Just… take it slow,” you said low.

She swallowed, nodding, though her lip trembled. Her fingers wrapped tighter around you, angling your cock to her entrance. You could feel the heat of her even before she lowered herself.

The first press made both of you gasp. Her folds stretched, sliding against the head, her wetness coating the condom.

“Fuck—” she hissed, pausing, gripping your shoulders.

“You okay?”

“Yeah… it’s just—” she bit down on a moan as she eased down more, inch by inch. Her pussy clung to you, pulling you in while her body resisted at the same time. Her forehead dropped against yours, sweat already beading. “Fuck, it’s… big, oh my god.”

Her walls felt like they were ripping open, molding around you. You grunted, holding her hips, trying to keep from thrusting up into her too fast.

“Breathe… you can do it,” you whispered, kissing her cheek, though your own voice shook.

She whimpered but pushed lower, hanging onto you like she’d fall apart otherwise. Every inch she took felt like heaven and torture, your cock throbbing, her cunt stretching wider to take you.

Finally, her ass settled against your thighs. She shuddered, clutching you tight, burying her face in your neck.

“It’s all in…” you groaned, hardly believing it.

She nodded against your skin, voice muffled. “God, it feels… so full. I can feel everything.”

You stroked her back, letting her sit there, adjusting, her walls fluttering around you.

She breathed against your neck, her body tense, clinging to you like she was afraid she’d break if she let go. Then you felt it—the smallest shift of her hips. A slow grind, cautious, testing.

Her walls clenched and slid over you, inch by inch, pulling a groan straight out of your chest.

“God… Stella…” you whispered, gripping her hips.

She whined softly, forehead pressed to yours. “It still hurts… but… it feels good too.” Her hips circled again, this time a little smoother, her wetness spreading along the condom, easing the sting.

You kissed her jaw, her cheek, anywhere you could reach, murmuring, “You’re doing so good.”

When she finally started lifting herself, just barely off your length before sinking back down, her breath hitched. “Oh—fuck…”

Her body learned quickly, the slow pumps growing steadier, more deliberate. Each drop of her hips brought you deeper, her tight cunt clenching as she adjusted.

She leaned down, her hands framing your face as she moved. Her hair, loose strands from the tied bun, fell over her flushed face. She kissed you hard, moaning into your mouth, then pulled back just enough to stare at you.

Her eyes were wild, desperate, shining. “More,” she whispered, then urged louder, “Please, more.”

Something snapped in you.

“Stella!” you groaned, hugging her tight against you. Your hips thrust up, meeting her drops, driving your cock deep. The sudden force made her cry out, nails digging into your shoulders.

“Ahh—fuck!” Her body jolted with every thrust, her voice breaking into moans that only pushed you harder.

Your rhythm turned messy, frantic, the two of you colliding in a storm of wet heat, her pussy gripping your cock like it never wanted to let go.

Her face hovered just above yours, flushed and trembling, lips parted as she gasped your name over and over.

Your hips slapped against hers, faster now, rougher, the wet sounds between you loud in the quiet room. She clung to you, face twisting with every thrust.

“F-fuck—oh god—” Stella’s moans cracked, her body starting to shake. Her pussy clenched hard around you, gripping like a vice as her thighs quivered.

“Stella—” you gasped, feeling her clamp down, milking your cock.

Her head fell back, mouth open in a silent cry before the moan tore out of her throat. She came hard, body buckling against you, nails digging into your back as her climax ripped through her.

You slowed, groaning at how tight she squeezed, then eased yourself out before you lost control. She collapsed onto you, trembling, chest heaving.

But you weren’t done.

You caught her chin, kissed her breathless, then gently laid her down. She blinked up at you, still dazed, hair a mess across her flushed face.

“Wait—” she panted, but her legs opened anyway, inviting you in.

You pushed her thighs apart and lined yourself up, your cock slick and hard, sliding back into her swollen, dripping heat. She cried out as you filled her again, your weight pressing down over her.

“Fuck, you’re still… ahh—” she moaned, her hands searching for something to hold.

You caught both of them, pinning her wrists to the pillow above her head, leaning close enough to feel her panting against your lips.

Then you thrust.

Hard, deep, relentless.

Her body jolted with each snap of your hips, her breasts bouncing under you, sweat sticking her shirt to her skin.

“Stella—fuck—you feel...” you groaned, burying yourself inside her again and again.

Her eyes glazed, tears at the corners from the overwhelming pleasure. “Yes—yes—don’t stop, please—” she begged, her voice raw.

The bed shook under you, her pussy sucking you in with every thrust, your rhythm sharp and desperate, pinning her there as if you couldn’t let her go.

Your thrusts turned ragged, each one harder than the last. The heat coiled tight in your gut, threatening to snap.

“Stella—fuck—I’m gonna…” you grunted, burying deep inside her one last time.

She moaned under you, nails dragging down your back, her body quivering around your cock.

You pulled out quick, groaning as you ripped the condom off, tossing it aside with shaky hands. Your cock pulsed hard, veins thick, and then you spilled—thick ropes of cum painting her bare pussy, streaking across her folds and her mound.

“Ahhh—fuck—” you gasped, stroking yourself through it, watching it coat her. The sight of your release dripping down onto her swollen slit, mixing with her wetness, made your knees weak.

She watched, eyes wide, face red, chest heaving. “God… you’re so dirty,” she whispered, but her voice trembled, her hips twitching like the mess turned her on even more.

Your last spurt dripped against her entrance, sticky and warm. She bit her lip, giggling breathlessly, one hand brushing her hair back.

“You just had to do that, huh?”

You collapsed beside her, still panting, your cum gleaming against her skin. You kissed her temple, murmuring, “Couldn’t help it.”

She sighed, half-annoyed, half-flattered, shifting her legs together as if to keep your mess on her.

You stayed there for a while, the sound of both your breathing filling her room. Her legs still glistened, streaked with your cum, her skin hot where your body had pressed her down.

Stella eventually shifted, sighing, reaching to the side table for tissues. She cleaned herself up with slow, embarrassed movements, glancing at you only once, cheeks pink.

“You’re crazy,” she said softly, shaking her head.

You smirked, eyes half-lidded. “Yeah, but you let me.”

She threw the crumpled tissue at your chest, laughing despite herself. “Pervert.”

You caught her wrist when she tried to get up, pulling her back down against you. She gave a small squeak, landing half on your chest, her messy hair spilling over your face.

“You’re warm,” she murmured, almost shy now that the heat had passed.

“You too,” you said, kissing her forehead.

For a few moments, the world shrank to just her heartbeat against yours, the faint smell of rain still drifting through the open window, the weight of her body settled comfortably across you.

Later, when she finally got up to dress, you sat and buttoned your shirt slowly. She glanced at you, lips tugging in a smile that was almost smug, almost shy.

“Don’t look at me like that at school tomorrow,” she warned.

“Why not?”

“Because everyone already knows. And if you look at me like this…” she trailed off, tugging her tied hair loose, “…they’ll know exactly what we did.”

You grinned, leaning back on her headboard. “Maybe I want them to.”

Her laugh followed you out the door that evening, soft and sweet.

The next day at school, nothing really changed. You still weren’t the loud couple, still awkward, still fumbling. But when your eyes met hers across the hall, there was a new current under it all.

Something shared.