tripleS Smut Writer

She booked a private traditional ryokan with a private onsen in the mountains and sent you a single teasing message:

Shion [3:12 PM]:

Manager-nim~ I have way too much energy after promotions.

I need you to help me drain it all… or let me drain you dry instead.

I booked us a beautiful ryokan. Just the two of us for the whole weekend.

Come spoil me. I want to ride you until my legs give out 💕

When you arrived at the secluded ryokan villa that Friday evening, the sun had already set behind the mountains. The air smelled of pine and warm spring water. Shion greeted you at the door wearing nothing but a thin white yukata loosely tied at the waist. Her vibrant red hair cascaded down her back in silky waves, still slightly damp from a quick shower. The moment the sliding door closed behind you, she didn’t waste a second.

“Finally,” she breathed, eyes sparkling with mischief and hunger. She jumped into your arms, wrapping her legs around your waist and kissing you like she’d been starving for weeks. Her tongue pushed into your mouth immediately, hot and demanding, while she ground her bare, already soaked pussy against the front of your pants. The yukata slipped open, revealing her perky breasts and hard pink nipples.

“I’ve been so wet thinking about this the whole drive here,” she whispered between deep kisses, voice breathy and playful. “I need you inside me. I want to ride you so badly, manager-nim.”

She pushed you backward into the luxurious villa bedroom, where a thick futon had been laid out on the tatami floor. Candles and soft lantern light bathed the room in a warm glow. Shion shoved you down onto the futon and climbed on top of you with eager confidence, straddling your hips. Her favorite position whenever she felt this proactive.

With a cute little smile, she untied her yukata and let it fall completely off her shoulders, revealing her toned, beautiful body. Her small, perky tits bounced lightly as she reached down to free your cock from your pants. She stroked you a few times, biting her lip at how hard you already were.

“Look at you… already this hard for me,” she giggled softly, then lined herself up and sank down in one smooth, greedy motion.

“Ahh—! Fuck, you’re so big…” she moaned loudly, red hair falling around her face like a curtain as she bottomed out. Her tight, dripping pussy stretched perfectly around your cock. For a moment she just sat there, savoring the fullness, rolling her hips in small circles while smiling down at you with that bright, adorable expression that made her look almost innocent despite being impaled on your dick.

Then she started riding.

Shion planted her hands on your chest and began bouncing with unrestrained energy. Her hips rose and fell in a fast, deep rhythm, small tits jiggling cutely with every drop. Wet, obscene sounds filled the room as her soaked pussy swallowed your cock over and over again. Her red hair bounced wildly, strands sticking to her flushed cheeks and neck.

“Yes—yes—right there!” she gasped, eyes half-lidded in pleasure but still locked on yours. “I love being on top… I love using your cock like this.”

She leaned forward, pressing her breasts against your chest while still riding you hard, and kissed you sloppily. Her tongue danced with yours as her hips kept working, grinding her clit against your pelvis with every downward thrust. You gripped her ass, helping her bounce even harder, and she moaned into your mouth.

After several minutes she sat back up, hands on your chest again, and rode you even more aggressively. Her pussy clenched rhythmically around you, squeezing like she was trying to milk you dry. Sweat began to glisten on her skin, making her red hair stick to her shoulders.

“I’m gonna cum~~!” she cried out suddenly. Her pace became frantic, hips slamming down as her walls fluttered wildly around your cock. Shion threw her head back, red hair flying, and came hard with a loud, cute whine. Her pussy gushed around you, squirting lightly and soaking your groin and the futon beneath.

But she didn’t stop.

Even while still trembling through her orgasm, Shion kept riding you through the aftershocks, slower but deeper, grinding her sensitive clit against you with a blissful smile. “More… I want more of your cum,” she panted playfully. “Fill me up, manager-nim. I want to feel it leaking out of me all weekend.”

You couldn’t hold back any longer. Gripping her hips tightly, you thrust up into her and came with a deep groan, pumping thick, heavy ropes of cum straight into her spasming pussy. Shion moaned happily at the warmth, grinding down to take every drop as her walls milked you perfectly.

She stayed seated on your cock for a long moment, gently rocking as she caught her breath. Then, with a mischievous little smile, she slowly lifted herself off. A thick stream of your cum immediately dripped from her well-fucked pussy onto your stomach. Shion looked down at the mess, then back at you with sparkling eyes.

Without a word, she slid down your body and took your softening cock into her warm mouth, sucking and licking you clean with soft, affectionate strokes of her tongue. When she pulled off, she gave your sensitive tip one long, slow lick from base to tip, then smiled brightly up at you like a pleased kitten.

“All clean~” she said cutely, before crawling back up to kiss you, letting you taste yourself on her tongue.

But Shion was far from done.

After only a short rest, she was back on top again, stroking you back to full hardness with her small hand. This time she turned around into reverse cowgirl, giving you a perfect view of her ass and red hair swaying down her back as she impaled herself once more. She rode you even harder this round, hands on your thighs for leverage, ass rippling with every bounce.

The night blurred into a long, filthy marathon. She rode you through two more creampies, switching between facing you and reverse, sometimes leaning back so you could play with her clit while she bounced. After the third load, she pushed some of the overflowing cum out of her pussy with her fingers and rubbed it across her nipples, then asked you to lick it off while she giggled and moaned.

By the time you both finally collapsed in a sweaty, cum-soaked mess on the futon, Shion had taken four loads deep inside her pussy and one thick facial. She lay on top of you, red hair splayed across your chest, gently licking the last traces of cum from your spent cock while smiling up at you with pure satisfaction.

“I still have so much energy left,” she whispered playfully, kissing the tip of your cock one last time. “Good thing we have the whole weekend… and a beautiful onsen waiting for us tomorrow.”

She curled up against you, cum still slowly leaking from between her thighs, already planning how she would drain you even more in the mixed hot springs the next morning.

The next morning dawned bright and crisp over the mountains. Sunlight filtered through the wooden lattice of the ryokan, casting soft patterns across the futon where you and Shion had barely slept. After the intense riding marathon the night before, you expected her to be exhausted. Instead, Shion woke up even more energetic, red hair tousled beautifully around her flushed face, already kissing your neck and grinding against your thigh under the thin blanket.

“Let’s go to the mixed onsen,” she whispered excitedly, nibbling your ear. “I want to ride you in the hot water~ No one’s there this early, and even if someone comes… the risk makes it hotter.”

She slipped into a tiny white towel that barely covered her ass and breasts, then helped you into a matching one. Her vibrant red hair was tied up loosely with a few loose strands framing her face, making her look both innocent and dangerously seductive. Hand in hand, you both walked through the quiet wooden corridors toward the private mixed onsen area.

The outdoor bath was breathtaking. Natural hot spring water steamed gently in a series of stone pools surrounded by large boulders, hanging vines, and carefully placed bamboo screens that offered partial privacy. At this early hour, the entire area was empty. The air was warm and mineral-scented, with soft morning light reflecting off the rippling water.

Shion glanced around once, then dropped her towel without hesitation, revealing her perfect naked body. Her perky breasts, toned waist, long legs, and smooth, pretty pussy were on full display as she stepped gracefully into the steaming pool. The hot water reached her chest as she turned to you with a bright, playful smile.

“Come on, manager-nim~ The water feels amazing on my skin… especially after you filled me so many times last night.”

You joined her, and the moment you sat on the submerged stone bench, Shion climbed straight into your lap, straddling you underwater. Her arms wrapped around your neck as she kissed you deeply, slow, wet, and full of affection mixed with hunger. Her tongue danced with yours while her hand slipped between your bodies, stroking your cock until it was rock-hard again despite the heat.

“I can’t stop thinking about riding you here,” she murmured against your lips, smiling cutely even as her voice turned breathy. “In the open air… with the hot water all around us. I want to feel you cum deep inside me while we’re floating like this.”

She raised her hips, positioned your throbbing cock at her entrance, and sank down slowly. The contrast was exquisite, the scalding hot spring water versus the even hotter, velvety grip of her cum-filled pussy from the night before. Shion let out a long, satisfied moan as she took every inch, her red hair dipping into the water and floating around her shoulders like liquid fire.

“Ahh… you’re stretching me so nicely again,” she sighed happily, forehead pressed against yours. For a moment she just sat there, fully impaled, rolling her hips in lazy circles while smiling at you with sparkling eyes. The hot water made her skin glow, droplets clinging to her lashes and lips.

Then she started riding.

Shion planted her hands on your shoulders and began bouncing with that same eager, proactive energy she loved. Her hips rose and fell in the water, creating gentle splashes and ripples around you both. Her small perky tits bounced just above the waterline, pink nipples hard from the mix of heat and arousal. Every downward thrust drove your cock deep into her welcoming pussy, the wet, filthy sounds muffled by the steaming water.

“Look at me,” she whispered playfully, locking eyes with you as she rode faster. Her red hair swayed and stuck to her wet skin, cheeks flushed from the heat and pleasure. “I love riding you like this… using you to drain all my energy.”

She leaned in and kissed you passionately, tongues sliding together as she continued bouncing on your cock. The hot water splashed between your bodies with every movement, making her slide up and down your shaft even more smoothly. You gripped her perfect ass under the water, helping her slam down harder, and she moaned cutely into your mouth.

The risk of someone walking into the mixed onsen only seemed to excite her more. Shion’s pace grew more desperate, her tight walls clenching rhythmically around you as she chased her pleasure. Steam rose thickly around you both, the morning sun catching the droplets on her red hair and making her look almost ethereal.

“I’m getting close already…” she whimpered, voice sweet and high-pitched. She sat up straighter, hands on your chest, and rode you with wild abandon, hips snapping down hard, ass rippling underwater, small tits bouncing beautifully. Her pussy fluttered and squeezed, milking your cock with expert control.

“Cum with me,” she begged, smiling brightly even as her eyes glazed over with lust. “Fill me right here in the onsen, manager-nim. I want to feel your hot cum mixing with the water inside me~”

You couldn’t hold back. Gripping her hips tightly, you thrust up into her and erupted, thick, powerful ropes of cum flooding deep into her spasming pussy. Shion cried out in pleasure, biting your shoulder to muffle the sound as she came hard right after you. Her walls clenched violently around your cock, milking every last drop while she squirted into the hot spring, her juices mixing with your creampie in the steaming water.

Even after both of you finished, Shion stayed seated on your cock, gently grinding and kissing you lazily. She looked absolutely radiant, wet red hair clinging to her face and shoulders, cheeks pink, eyes sparkling with satisfaction and mischief.

After a few minutes, she slowly lifted herself off. A thick cloud of white cum immediately began leaking from her pussy into the clear onsen water, swirling around her thighs. Shion glanced down at the messy sight, then back at you with the cutest, most playful smile.

She reached down, scooped some of the leaking creampie onto her fingers, and brought it to her mouth. She licked it slowly and sensually, maintaining eye contact the entire time, then giggled.

“Mmm~ Still tastes good even after the hot water,” she said innocently, before leaning down and giving the sensitive head of your cock a long, affectionate lick underwater, her tongue swirling around the tip while she smiled up at you brightly.

“All clean for now~” she teased, then climbed back into your lap and cuddled against your chest, red hair floating in the water around both of you.

The two of you stayed in the onsen for a long time, kissing softly, touching lazily, and enjoying the warm water while more of your cum slowly leaked out of her. Shion kept whispering cute, filthy promises about how she still had so much energy left for the rest of the weekend.

By the time you finally returned to the villa, her thighs were still slick with your creampie, and she was already planning the next round on the outdoor balcony. 

After the steamy creampie ride in the mixed onsen, you and Shion returned to the private villa with flushed skin and mischievous smiles. The hot spring water had relaxed your bodies, but Shion’s energy was still nowhere near depleted. The moment the sliding door closed behind you, she pushed you playfully against the wooden wall and dropped to her knees right there in the entryway.

“You filled me so much in the onsen,” she purred, looking up at you with those sparkling dark eyes while her red hair hung in damp waves around her face. “But I’m still so greedy…”

She pulled your towel open and took your cock into her warm mouth without hesitation, sucking and licking with soft, affectionate moans. Her tongue swirled around the head, cleaning the remnants of the onsen water and your earlier creampie. When you were fully hard again, she smiled brightly up at you, gave your sensitive tip one long, slow lick from base to crown, then giggled.

“All clean and ready for more~”

She led you out to the private outdoor balcony overlooking the misty mountains. The afternoon sun warmed the wooden deck as Shion shrugged off her towel completely and pushed you down onto a large cushioned lounge chair. She climbed on top immediately, her favorite position, straddling your hips with confident grace.

“I love riding you when I’m like this,” she confessed softly, lining up your cock with her dripping entrance. “It makes me feel like I’m using you to burn all my energy away.”

She sank down slowly, savoring every inch until her ass rested against your thighs. A soft, satisfied moan escaped her lips as she bottomed out. Her red hair spilled over her shoulders and breasts like liquid fire in the sunlight. For a moment she just sat there, rolling her hips in slow, sensual circles, smiling down at you with pure adoration and lust.

Then she started moving.

Shion planted her hands on your chest and began riding you with steady, deep bounces. Her small perky tits jiggled cutely with every rise and fall, pink nipples hard in the open air. The wet sounds of her soaked pussy swallowing your cock filled the balcony as she picked up speed. She leaned forward, red hair cascading around both of you like a curtain, and kissed you deeply while continuing to ride.

“Mmm— you feel so good,” she whispered against your lips between kisses. “I could do this all day…”

She sat back up, hands on your chest again, and rode you harder, hips snapping down with enthusiastic energy. Her ass rippled beautifully every time she slammed down, taking you to the hilt. Sweat started glistening on her skin as she worked herself on your cock, red hair bouncing wildly.

When her first orgasm of the afternoon hit, Shion threw her head back with a cute, high-pitched whine, her pussy clenching and squirting around you. She didn’t slow down. She rode straight through it, grinding her clit against your pelvis until you couldn’t hold back anymore. You gripped her hips and filled her with another thick creampie, pumping rope after rope deep inside her.

Shion moaned happily at the feeling, grinding down to milk every drop. When you finished, she lifted herself off slowly, letting a thick stream of cum drip from her pussy onto your stomach. With a playful smile, she leaned down and licked it up, cleaning you with long strokes of her tongue before sucking the head of your cock into her mouth again.

“Good boy~” she teased cutely, kissing the tip one last time.

The afternoon blurred into a continuous, filthy marathon.

Shion rode you again in the traditional wooden bathtub, water splashing everywhere as she bounced enthusiastically on your lap, red hair wet and clinging to her back. She rode you on the futon in reverse cowgirl, giving you a perfect view of her ass and the way your cock disappeared into her cum-filled pussy. Every time you came, she found a new playful way to tease:

After one intense facial on the balcony, she scooped some of your cum off her cheek with two fingers, sucked them clean while maintaining eye contact, then leaned down and gave your spent cock several slow, affectionate licks while smiling brightly up at you.

“Tasty as always,” she giggled, before crawling back up to kiss you so you could taste yourself on her tongue.

Later in the evening, as the sun began to set and painted the mountains in golden hues, Shion pushed you onto the futon once more. She was glowing with sweat and cum, her red hair a beautiful mess, but her energy remained boundless. She mounted you again, facing you this time, and rode you with slow, deep rolls of her hips.

“I still have so much left,” she whispered, smiling softly as she ground down on you. “I want to drain you completely tonight.”

She rode you through two more creampies, one while leaning forward and kissing you passionately, another while sitting upright and playing with her own nipples, moaning cutely every time you thrust up into her. After the final load, she stayed seated on your cock for a long time, gently rocking as she traced patterns on your chest with her fingers.

Eventually, she slid off and curled up beside you, but not before giving your sensitive cock one last round of playful attention. She licked every inch clean, paying special attention to the tip, swirling her tongue around it while looking up at you with that bright, innocent-yet-filthy smile she did so well.

By the time night fully settled over the ryokan, Shion had taken multiple loads deep inside her pussy, several down her throat, and a couple across her face and red hair. She lay on top of you, completely spent but glowing with satisfaction, her body sticky with sweat and cum, red hair splayed across your chest.

“I think I finally used up most of my energy,” she murmured sleepily, pressing a soft kiss to your collarbone. “Thank you for letting me ride you so much… and for filling me everywhere I wanted.”

She gave your cock one final, gentle lick and smiled against your skin.

“Tomorrow is our last day… I wonder how many more times I can make you cum before we have to go home~”

You stroked her messy red hair, holding her close as the mountain night grew quiet around the villa. Shion’s weekend of unrestrained, proactive riding had left both of you exhausted, satisfied, and already looking forward to the final day.

Sunday morning arrived with golden sunlight streaming through the shoji screens of the villa. Shion woke up first, her body still humming with leftover energy despite the non-stop riding from the previous two days. She was curled against your chest, vibrant red hair a wild, beautiful mess across your skin. When she felt you stir, she let out a soft, happy giggle and immediately started kissing your neck, her small hand sliding down your stomach to wrap around your cock.

“Manager-nim~” she whispered in that sweet, breathy voice, already stroking you slowly. “It’s our last day… I still have sooo much energy left. I want to ride you until we both can’t walk properly.”

She was more sensitive today, every touch made her shiver and giggle. Her skin was flushed, nipples already hard, and when you cupped her breast she arched with a cute little whimper. Shion climbed on top of you right away, straddling your hips in her favorite position. She looked stunning in the morning light: red hair glowing like fire, eyes sparkling with playful mischief and affection.

She lined up your morning-hard cock with her slick entrance and sank down slowly, savoring every inch with a long, sensual moan. “Mmmh~ You’re so warm and thick inside me… I love this feeling,” she giggled softly, biting her lip as she bottomed out. Once fully seated, she stayed still for a moment, rolling her hips in lazy circles while smiling down at you adorably.

Then the real marathon began.

Shion planted her hands on your chest and started riding you with sensual, flowing movements, rising until just the tip remained inside her, then sliding back down with a wet, satisfying smack. Her small perky tits bounced gently with every motion, and she kept giggling between soft, breathy moans.

“Hehe~ Look at you… getting all twitchy already,” she teased playfully, leaning forward so her red hair curtained around both of you. She kissed you deeply, tongue sliding against yours in slow, sensual strokes while her hips kept working in that perfect rhythm. Every time you thrust up to meet her she let out a cute, high-pitched squeak of pleasure.

She was especially sensitive this morning. When you reached up to pinch her nipples lightly, her whole body trembled and she giggled breathlessly. “Ahh—! That feels so good today… I’m extra sensitive after all the riding yesterday~”

Shion sat up straighter, hands on your chest again, and began bouncing faster. Her red hair flew wildly around her shoulders as she rode you harder, ass rippling with every enthusiastic drop. The wet sounds of her soaked, cum-filled pussy filled the room. She kept smiling at you the entire time, that bright, giggly, heart-melting smile that made her look both innocent and incredibly lewd.

“I love riding you like this… I feel so full and so naughty,” she giggled, grinding her clit against you on every downstroke. Her pussy clenched rhythmically around your cock, squeezing with delicious sensitivity. When her first orgasm hit, she threw her head back with a sweet, trembling moan, red hair cascading down her back as her walls fluttered and squirted lightly around you.

But she didn’t stop. Still giggling through the aftershocks, she kept riding, slower and more sensual now, eyes half-lidded in pleasure. “More… I want more of your cum,” she whispered playfully, leaning down to kiss you again while grinding deep.

You gripped her hips and thrust up harder, and Shion’s giggles turned into adorable, needy whimpers. When you finally filled her with a thick creampie, she moaned happily and ground down to take every drop, her sensitive pussy milking you perfectly.

After that load, Shion lifted off slowly, letting thick white cum drip from her pussy onto your cock and stomach. She looked down at the messy sight and giggled cutely. “So much~ You always give me so much…”

Then, with a playful sparkle in her eyes, she slid down your body and started licking. She gave your sensitive cock long, slow, sensual licks, cleaning every drop of your combined juices while smiling up at you brightly. She paid special attention to the tip, swirling her tongue around it in teasing circles, giggling every time you twitched.

“All clean again~” she announced proudly, before crawling back up and kissing you so you could taste yourselves on her tongue.

The rest of the morning and early afternoon became a blissful, giggly, sensual marathon.

Shion rode you in the outdoor shower, one leg lifted as she impaled herself on your cock under the warm spray, giggling and moaning as water cascaded over her red hair and bouncing tits. She rode you on the balcony again, facing the mountains, leaning back with her hands on your thighs while she rolled her hips sensually and played with her own clit, extremely sensitive and responsive to every touch.

Every new position brought more cute playfulness from her. She would giggle when your cock hit a particularly good spot, whimper cutely when you sucked on her nipples, and smile brightly at you even as her eyes watered from overwhelming pleasure.

By late afternoon she had taken four more loads deep inside her pussy. After the final creampie on the futon, Shion stayed seated on you for a long time, gently rocking as she caught her breath. Her red hair was a sweaty, tousled mess, her body glowing and marked with love bites and cum.

She leaned down, pressed her forehead to yours, and whispered sensually, “I’m so full of you… but I still want one more thing.”

She slid off your cock, cum pouring out of her well-used pussy, and positioned herself so she could take you into her mouth again. With playful, loving care she sucked and licked you clean, humming happily around your sensitive length. When you were twitching on the edge of overstimulation, she pulled off and gave your tip one final, long, slow lick while looking up at you with the cutest, most adoring smile.

“Thank you for letting me drain you all weekend,” she giggled softly, then crawled up and curled against your chest, red hair spilling everywhere. “I feel so much better now… all my energy is finally gone. You made me feel so good, manager-nim.”

She nuzzled into your neck, still gently grinding her cum-leaking pussy against your thigh, pressing soft kisses to your skin.

As the sun began to set over the mountains on your last evening at the ryokan, Shion lay on top of you, satisfied, glowing, and still playfully sensual. She traced lazy patterns on your chest with her finger, occasionally giving your spent cock a gentle, affectionate stroke or lick while giggling quietly.

“I think this was the best way to spend our weekend off,” she murmured, pressing one last kiss to your tip before cuddling close. “Next break… we’re coming back here. Or somewhere even more private so I can ride you for even longer~”

You shake your head, pulling out your phone. "Nah, I drove separately. Figured he'd be here already." The two of you try calling and texting Patrick for the next hour, but it goes straight to voicemail. Finally, a message pings through from Patrick's sister: he had felt like shit the night before, went to the ER, and was admitted for dehydration and a nasty stomach bug. He was stuck there, IVs and all. "Damn," Harry mutters. "Poor guy. But... the pairings."

The bridesmaids and groomsmen had been meticulously paired off, mostly because several were already couples or married. Chaewon and Jiyeon, the two stunning women in the bridal party, were supposed to walk with you and Patrick since you were both single. No awkward exes or dates to complicate things. Now, with Patrick out, the math didn't add up. The wedding planner looked frazzled as she explained the issue in the hallway outside the suite.

Chaewon (the petite blonde with the shoulder-length bob, bright eyes, and playful energy) and Jiyeon (the elegant black-haired beauty with long, silky waves, sharp yet soft features, and a confident aura) stood nearby in their matching floral chiffon dresses, delicate white fabric adorned with soft pink roses, ruffled layers that hugged their lithe bodies, short hemlines showing off toned legs, and halter-style tops that accentuated their perky breasts and smooth shoulders. They looked like they had stepped out of a floral garden innocent yet irresistibly seductive.

After a quick talk, Harry shrugged. "It's your call, girls. We can scramble the lineup or... figure something else out."

Chaewon glanced at Jiyeon, then at you, a mischievous smile curving her full lips. "A trio could be fun," she said, her voice light and teasing. Jiyeon nodded, biting her lower lip. "Yeah, why not? As long as it's with him. We've seen you around enough to know you're not some creep." Their consent was enthusiastic, eyes sparkling with curiosity. Problem solved, for the ceremony, at least.

The wedding went off without a hitch. You walked down the aisle with both women on your arms, one on each side, drawing amused whispers and smiles from the guests. Chaewon's hand felt warm and small on your arm; Jiyeon's grip was firmer, more assured. During the reception, as the music swelled and drinks flowed freely, champagne, cocktails, shots of soju mixed with whiskey, the dynamic of us three being together started to click.

You danced first with Chaewon, her body pressing close during a slow song, her floral dress swirling around her thighs. Her breath tickled your ear as she whispered, "You're a good dancer... and you smell nice." Her hips swayed against yours, the sheer fabric doing little to hide the heat radiating from her skin. Then Jiyeon took her turn, dancing with you to a more sensual rhythm, her long black hair brushing your chest as she looked up at you through hooded eyes. "Don't think we're letting you off easy today," she murmured, her fingers tracing the back of your neck.

As the night wore on, the three of you stayed close, laughing, clinking glasses, bodies brushing in the crowd. The alcohol loosened some inhibitions and made the time less awkward. Chaewon's cheeks flushed pink, her giggles turning breathy. Jiyeon's touches grew bolder, her hand lingering on your thigh under the table. By midnight, the party was winding down, but the chemistry between you three was just building up.

"Hotel room?" Jiyeon suggested, her voice low and husky as she leaned in on one side, her full breasts pressing against your arm through the thin dress. Chaewon nodded eagerly on the other side, biting her lip. "Ours is a suite. Plenty of space... for three."

You barely made it through the door of their luxurious hotel suite before the tension snapped. The room was dimly lit by bedside lamps, a king-sized bed dominating the space, floor to ceiling windows overlooking the lake. Chaewon kicked off her heels first, giggling as she pushed you back onto the bed. "We've been thinking about this since the dance and how you treated us," she confessed, crawling over you. Her short blonde hair framed her face as she kissed you deeply, her tongue slipping into your mouth with surprising hunger. She tasted like sweet champagne and strawberries.

Jiyeon watched for a moment, then joined, shedding her dress in one fluid motion. The floral fabric pooled at her feet, revealing lacy white lingerie that barely contained her perky B-cup breasts and a tiny thong that accentuated her toned ass and smooth, shaved pussy. "My turn," she purred, pulling Chaewon off you gently and claiming your lips. Her kiss was deeper, more dominant, her long hair cascading over your shoulders as her hand slid down to palm the growing bulge in your pants.

You groaned, hands exploring. Chaewon's dress came off next, her body even more petite and lithe underneath, small, firm B-cup breasts with pink nipples already hard, a flat stomach, and matching lacy panties soaked through. "Touch me," she whispered, guiding your hand between her thighs. Your fingers found her wet folds, slick and eager, slipping one inside her tight heat as she moaned, grinding against your palm.

Jiyeon freed your cock from your pants, her eyes widening appreciatively at the thick, veiny length. "Fuck, you're big," she breathed, wrapping her soft hand around the shaft and stroking slowly from base to tip, her thumb circling the leaking head. Chaewon leaned down, her tongue flicking out to lick along the underside while Jiyeon pumped you, their mouths working in tandem, kissing each other around your cock, sucking on the head together, saliva dripping down your balls. The sight was obscene: two beautiful women, one blonde and playful, one dark-haired and seductive, sharing your throbbing dick.

You pulled Chaewon up first, her lithe, petite body flushed and trembling with anticipation. You laid her gently but firmly on her back in the center of the massive king-sized bed, the silky sheets already rumpled from your earlier making out. You spread her smooth, toned legs wide apart, knees bent and feet planted on the mattress, fully exposing her glistening pussy. Her outer lips were puffy and pink, inner folds slick with her arousal, a thin string of wetness already dripping down toward her tight little asshole. Her clit peeked out, swollen and begging for attention.

You dove in without hesitation, burying your face between her thighs. Your tongue flattened and dragged slowly from her dripping entrance up to her clit in long, deliberate strokes, savoring her sweet tangy, musky flavor, pure feminine nectar mixed with the faint taste of her earlier excitement. You circled her clit with the tip of your tongue, then sucked it firmly between your lips, flicking rapidly as she bucked her hips. Chaewon cried out sharply, her small hands flying to your hair, fingers tangling tightly in the strands as she pulled you harder against her cunt. "Yes! Right there—ahh! Fuck, your tongue feels so good!" she moaned loudly, her voice high-pitched and breathy.

Jiyeon didn't wait to be invited. She swung one long leg over Chaewon's face, straddling her friend's mouth in a smooth motion while facing you. Her perfect, round ass hovered just above Chaewon's eager lips as she lowered her own soaked pussy onto the blonde's waiting tongue. Jiyeon's long black hair cascaded down her back as she ground her wet cunt forward and backward, smearing her juices across Chaewon's mouth and chin. Chaewon's tongue immediately pushed inside her, licking deep and hungrily, making wet, obscene slurping sounds. "Mmm, yes, eat my pussy," Jiyeon purred, her voice husky with pleasure.

While Chaewon was busy devouring Jiyeon, the older girl reached down between your bodies, her elegant fingers wrapping around your throbbing, rock-hard cock. She stroked you firmly a few times, spreading the precum leaking from your tip, then guided the fat, swollen head right to Chaewon's tight entrance. You pushed forward slowly, inch by inch, feeling her velvety walls stretch and clench around your girth. Chaewon was incredibly tight, almost painfully so, her pussy gripping every ridge and vein of your shaft like it was made for you. When you finally bottomed out, balls deep, her cervix kissing the tip of your cock, she let out a muffled, guttural moan directly into Jiyeon's pussy. "So fucking full... you're stretching me so much," she gasped between desperate licks, her words vibrating against Jiyeon's clit.

You gave her a moment to adjust, then started thrusting harder, long, powerful strokes that made your hips slap loudly against her firm little ass. Her small, perky tits bounced rhythmically with every impact, pink nipples stiff and begging to be sucked. The wet squelching sounds of your cock pistoning in and out of her drenched cunt filled the room, mixed with the girls' moans and the slick noises of Chaewon's tongue working Jiyeon's pussy. Jiyeon leaned forward, her full breasts pressing heavily against your chest as she captured your mouth in a deep, sloppy kiss, her tongue dancing with yours. Her hard nipples dragged across your skin while Chaewon's muffled cries sent pleasurable vibrations straight to Jiyeon's clit, pushing the black haired beauty closer to the edge.

After several minutes of pounding Chaewon senseless, you switched positions. You pulled out with a wet pop, her pussy visibly gaping for a second before clenching around nothing. You flipped Jiyeon onto all fours, her perfect heart-shaped ass raised high in the air, back arched deeply. Her pussy lips were swollen and shiny with a mix of her own juices and Chaewon's saliva. You gripped her narrow waist and slammed into her in one powerful thrust, burying yourself to the hilt. Jiyeon was wetter than Chaewon but still incredibly snug, her walls gripping you like a hot, silky vice. "Fuck yes—harder!" she demanded immediately, pushing her ass back against you greedily. You obliged, fucking her with deep, brutal strokes, your balls slapping against her clit with every thrust.

Chaewon slid underneath Jiyeon on her back, positioning her face right at the action. Her tongue lapped eagerly at Jiyeon's clit and the base of your cock as you thrust in and out, tasting the creamy mixture of their combined arousal. She sucked one of Jiyeon's swinging breasts into her mouth, swirling her tongue around the nipple while her fingers found Chaewon's own clit again, rubbing furiously. The room was filled with the lewd symphony of skin slapping skin, wet squelching, and raw moans, "Deeper! Fuck me harder!" from Jiyeon, and Chaewon's muffled whimpers of pleasure.

You rotated between them for what felt like hours, lost in a haze of lust and alcohol-fueled stamina. Next, Chaewon rode you reverse cowgirl, her tight little ass jiggling hypnotically as she bounced up and down on your cock, her hands braced on your thighs for leverage. You could see every detail, your thick shaft disappearing into her stretched pink pussy, her juices coating your balls and dripping down. After a bit Jiyeon straddled your face at the same time, smothering you with her dripping cunt as you devoured her, sucking her clit and tongue-fucking her hole while she made out with Chaewon above you, their tongues and tits pressed together.

Then you flipped Jiyeon into missionary, her long legs wrapped tightly around your waist, heels digging into your back as you pounded her deep and fast. Her nails raked red lines down your shoulders and back while Chaewon made out sloppily with her, fingers buried in Jiyeon's pussy alongside your cock, stretching her even more. Chaewon occasionally leaned down to lick Jiyeon's clit or suck on her bouncing tits.

The orgasms came crashing through them in waves. Chaewon's first one hit like a storm, she suddenly tensed, her pussy clamping down like a fist around your cock as she squirted lightly, clear fluid gushing around your shaft and soaking your groin and the sheets. She screamed, body shaking violently, eyes rolling back. Jiyeon followed soon after on her turn, her walls convulsing rhythmically, milking your cock as she shuddered and cried out, her thighs quivering uncontrollably.

Finally, you couldn't hold back. "I'm gonna cum," you growled. They both knelt eagerly in front of you, tongues out, hands stroking your slick cock. Thick ropes of hot cum painted their faces and tongues, splattering Chaewon's blonde hair and pretty cheeks, coating Jiyeon's lips and tits. They kissed, swapping your load, giggling breathlessly.

Exhausted, you collapsed together on the bed in a tangle of limbs, their bodies pressed against yours, Chaewon's head on your chest, Jiyeon's leg draped over your thigh. "Best wedding ever," Chaewon murmured sleepily. Jiyeon smiled, tracing patterns on your skin. "And we're not done with you tomorrow morning..."

And it's flawless, because she makes it flawless - which is the true cruelty of it.

You reply: for the record, I poison the food, trace amounts, bioaccumulative. you'll go quietly in your sleep the week before you become partner, and i'll be left to grieve into your half of a security deposit

we are never seeing that deposit again because you put your fist through the drywall demonstrating a rear naked choke

You said you felt unsafe walking to the subway

I feel unsafe walking to the kitchen, thank you very much. She turns a page she was reading - now drink your spit.

Gladly

You'd had this apartment since you were both broke - instant-noodle broke, splitting one metrocard broke, the sort of broke that's almost fun in the rearview because you survived it by the skin of your teeth.

Now she bills more in an hour than the rent. You do something with capital you've stopped trying to explain at parties - rather, take a middle distance, talk about all the publishing companies you've sponsored. exclaim books aren't dead after all! [1]

[1] of course, the irony of it is that they are, kind of dead

The radiator finds a new place to leak everyday, the second bathroom is a closet on account of all the pipe failures - and you have to pass by her bedroom to go to the bathroom. You'll take your grim - as she says - 4-in-1 facial cleanser, moisturizer, toner, window cleaner beside her 70 products to - as she says, to look like a porcelain cup. Either of you could leave tomorrow. But you don't.

I'm making you a tinder profile you say, taking her phone off the counter, sliding in the code to her phone.

I don't need a profile

You need a life. Or, at minimum, an orgasm that isn't self-induced.

She scoffs at the answer, still focused on the book -

You read aloud what you type in: emotionally available between the hours of never and also never.

Keep going. I'm aroused.

Lawyer, with three working holes

She sets the book down - this is how you know you've drawn blood - give me the phone

Make me

You had reserved a restaurant for the two of you, this new restaurant that was supposed to be great according to 15 google reviews who probably were the owner's extended family - doing their due diligence to make sure that this specific child doesn't become the family disappointment.

As always, the food comes out less than satisfactory; all the dishes are doused in butter; and the salad section was the most calorically dense section of the menu. You whisper about how much better you can make each of these dishes back home - and she'll agree, for once:

You ruined restaurants for me. I used to enjoy being disappointed by the $20 millennial man-bun burger. Now there's a douchebag at home who makes a great burger.

my pleasure with a smile.

She's scrolling tinder, still scrolling ever since the morning. Look at this, look at what's available to me. This one opened with the word 'yes'.

Atleast he's confident about it.

Oh please... she sighs, and this one wanted to know - whether i would rather have one thumb for a tongue or a tongue on every finger.

What did you land on. I think the tongue on every finger -

Nothing! It's so impractical, i'd rather think about - i don't know, vigorously masturbating.

You choke on some food you were actively chewing on, and she giggles - of course she does - and this one spelled 'pussy' wrong, this one wrote 'wyd 2nite' and I just have to scoff - how lazy do you have to be. It is ONE keystroke. T-O.

She drops the phone facedown, Who raised these men. Who looked at a child and thought: i will release this, unfinished, into the apps.

You'd know more about raising them, if you'd dated more than one person since the Pleistocene.

Atleast I committed, you - you just find anybody to fuck around with. She points at you, still chewing the complimentary bread - there was that one with the lululemon workout gear, said that's her sexpertise - she mimics a gag - then the DJ. The other DJ. Then I think there was another fucking DJ. I just genuinely -

Respect the hustle, Sohyun.

Respect the hustle? Your dick has commitment issues.

You laugh, and she's laughing too, the helpless one she hates, hand over her mouth, a soft cackle, perfect, uneven teeth showing - and you pay before she can fight you about it.

There's a dress shop two blocks down, on the way back to your apartment - and there's a green dress of something very expensive, to which she slows just a tad for -

You: Try it.

No thanks. It's ten thousand dollars with a tag.

So is everything you own. And then, you can't help it, it's right there - you lower your voice into something oily, shriveled, all menace, Let your uncle get it for you.

Absolutely not, strike it from the record

Uncle's had a very good quarter sweetheart. You pat a pocket. Uncle wants to see you in the green one.

I will call the actual police, I will have you locked up in maximum security - but, that laugh, she can't help herself, laughing into her hand - ...does uncle want to come in - watch me try it?

And for once, neither of you has the line to pull back.

...That got away from us, you manage, like something's lodged in your throat

That got away from you. She says. Buy me the dress, uncle. I've earned it.

Of course. You buy it.

The weekend arrives with the both of you brushing in the same bathroom, the only usable bathroom. She gargles, lets the foam clear away before slotting a length of floss between her teeth - By the way, I've a date today

With a... functioning human being?

His name is Mark. He used a semicolon correctly, nearly proposed on the spot.

So he's unemployed

He's a structural engineer, building the finest bridges.

Man who builds bridges and stays punctual - sounds like you matched with linkedin premium.

He's nice. Two long relationships, both ending kindly. Tips like he's apologizing for capitalism.

...So a serial killer?

He's just nice, man. She moves to throw the length of loss away.

Nobody's just nice. 4 months later the neighbors will find the crawlspace. You amble a comb through your hair. and then, I'll say I told you so.

She presses an index finger into your gut and you reflexively jolt - save this barking for later, uncle.

You move into the living room, waiting for Sohyun to get ready. You didn't get to see her in a green dress yet -

Uncle, I'm ready. She says, behind the door.

This uncle bit is getting old, Sohy - She comes out, the green dress skims her curves, the v-neck that presses her cleavage together, gleaming hair, glowing skin, plump lips -

Eyes up here mister.

Right. Get a hold of yourself - yeah, it looks great. Like, I don't know, it's like an accidentally sexy librarian.

Your eyes are fixed to my cleavage, I'm not even sure if you got the full view.

You did, you definitely did. This is, without a doubt, the hottest woman you've ever seen.

Now, help me zip up this thing.

There's the long bare reach of her back, you drag it up slowly, the zipper is small and your hands are big and you don't want to waste a moment of counting all the moles on her back.

I'm sorry but there won't be a person left in this city who hasn't looked down the front of that dress you say, pulling the zipper by parts.

Here I was, hoping the one exception was you.

Afraid not. You move some hairs away from her nape to get the zipper fully closed.

And she turns again, the dress comes out even more pressed to her curves, and that v-neck, god almighty. She steps into the heels -

I'm picturing it, you - a human - and this... linkedin premium.

God please no

I'm picturing it - two barbie dolls in the dark, knocking smooth plastic parts together. You say, vulgarity be damned.

Please stop talking - a familiar twitch to her mouth, god what you would do to continue living with her.

He won't get anywhere regardless, you add, holding out her coat unasked. Ten years with one man, a year of nothing since: there are cobwebs in there.

You know what's charming about the women you date? she says, taking the coat. How they all vanish after exactly one dinner. Like you're running a very tidy little murder operation

You know what's charming about the men you date? They don't exist. Mark is the first confirmed sighting. That's a million dollar sighting. Rarer than bigfoot.

Mark exists.

We'll see if he survives contact. Go easy on him, castrator

Don't need to go easy, dahmer. He's structurally sound. She slings a bag over her shoulder. Dont wait up.

You wait up, badly: lights off, a finance newsletter open on your phone that you're not reading, slouching on the couch like a man who is definitely not watching the door, ambling away the scalding minutes.

The lock turns at around eight PM. She comes in on the green dress and a drunk smile -

So, you say

So. She drops her shoes

How was Marco

Mark - she says, with emphasis - was wonderful.

And something about it feels wrong. Like swallowing something that's whole, cratering its path through your esophagus. Wonderful how, be specific, treat it as a deposition.

He's funny, actually funny, she pads into the kitchen, where you've already moved, filling two glasses of wine - we didn't stop talking. Three whole hours of talking, they flipped the chairs onto the tables around us.

Insufferable

There's a second date, a sip from the wine, a gentle smile on her. You wouldn't know the feeling.

Conversation's never been my deliverable.

No. I've seen your deliverable. It leaves before the coffee and changes its phone number

It leaves satisfied, you gesture, A courtesy Mark may never trouble you with

She hops up onto the counter, legs swinging in a gentle rhythm. And that dress - your dress, your genuinely terrible idea - pressed high to her thigh, all pretense of hem gone, riding clean all the way to the upper -

You'd buy it anyway. You'd buy it on leverage you don't have -

Oh please, monk of the orgasm temple. She scoffs. "Satisfied." Then tips her head, lowers the lashes, entering this little play that she imagines your women sing: I see you across the bar and - gosh (this emphasis on the trashiest possible gosh) - you really want me to put my tongue there!? I've never done that before. Sweet as a song. Does that play? On the book-illiterate?

Devastatingly so, you say. You should audition to be one of these... book-illiterates. I'm always casting.

No thanks. I've got a second date to look forward to.

Do you even get to the regular stuff, you ask, or do you have to bury the body first?

Now - she aims the empty glass at your sternum - you're trying to get me worked up.

You retrieve the glass, but up close she's all wine-warmth, hot perfume, the gentle trace of another man's cologne, and your body, traitorous as it is, gets worked up.

Oh my god. she says, looking down, radiant, with a ticking-time-bomb of a laugh - is that what I think it is?

Quickly, try to play it off - Don't flatter yourself, I was outside for a while and walked past alot of women - and she catches the lie like it's nothing, scoffing: You walked past, maybe, a leaking radiator.

The radiator's been forward lately. I haven't wanted to make it weird.

Should've seen it sooner, looks like we're arranging the date soon for the radiator fucker, she rules.

Oh, but I'm shy - an awful pitch to your voice.

And there's this soft silence, like nothing's wrong in the world - and Sohyun's grinning at you, wine marking her lips a tad darker, like you could just -

She tilts her head, openly appraising - I've always had a soft spot, she murmurs, for the small and the weak.

There's nothing small about me

You bring your dick up an awful lot. She slides off the counter and lands close. I wonder what that means.

It means you keep looking. I knew you would.

I wanted a visual, she says, It'll be giving me nightmares for weeks, thank you very much.

And then nothing's said. Kitchen too small, this green dress too close, the fact that you've got a hard-on to her and she... Fucking. Knows.

Goodnight, Dahmer she brushes past - because she has never once let you have the last move - and goes down the hall to her bedroom

And you're fine.

Completely fucking fine.

A month passes, Mark, the angel Sohyun's in love with has her busy on the weekends, letting her experience the city for what it's worth, letting her live a life she's missed out on for years.

He texts you on a Tuesday. Apparently I've been dating your roommate a month and never once bought her roommate a drink. Let me fix that - Friday? Sohyun's in, obviously.

You go to hate him - an agenda that Sohyun is already aware of. They're already there in the corner booth, two of them sitting next to eachother - and Mark rises to shake your hand. Tall and good-looking, how cliche - like he's never been escorted out of a holiday party by the shoulders.

You came. Mark says. Sohyun bet me twenty you'd bail.

I should have. I had a flawless evening of resenting you from across the city already booked. You slide in across from them.

So, you say. Bridges, tell me about the one that collapsed. The bodies, all the bodies.

None of mine have collapsed

That you know of.

He won an award, Sohyun interjected.

An award for a bridge that hasnt failed yet - committee's bold then. Waitress brings a beer, foam leaking at the top, and you take a sip - Personally, cantilevers - I say as a layman - overrated.

Overrated how. He gives a pleasant smile

The general load -

You don't know what a cantilever is.

I know it's a kind of bridge

It's mostly a kind of shelf. And he's kind about it, which is just unsufferable. You just came to find something wrong with me.

A felony. An ugly walk. An ugly way of chewing. Maybe you cheer for Arsenal. You reply, suavely.

Sorry to disappoint.

It's enraging. I keep waiting for you to mention the women in the well.

No well, he mock-sighs. HOA's strict.

It's the moment you tip - Has she told you what she actually does? She castrates men for a living. It's all framed back home.

And Sohyun - careful all night, porcelain-beautiful, hair curled to perfection - It's family law, castration for itemization. There's a huge difference.

Then she adds: Don't let him do the wounded act by the way. He's a "venture capitalist" and calls it a vocation.

I also keep a few dying publishers as pets, you tell Mark.

Sohyun, not missing a beat, There's a working theory. I won't bore you with the evidence but it has to do with organs.

There's no evidence. You point at her, then finally finishing the rest of the beer. It's all gone, mysteriously.

Mark interjects: They're not dying, though, the publishers. A little lost.

Oh, they're dying, you and Sohyun say, at the same time, in almost the same key - the both of you laugh.

That's the first time you feel him fall behind. He laughs too - but it's lagged, late.

You always look like you're one step off a knife fight, she tells you.

I'm delighted to be here, actually. Means I'm not off evicting some single mother from a shelter.

That was an accident.

Hmm.

There was a - Mark starts. - a shelter?

Long story, you and she say, in unison, and don't tell it.

He sits back a little.

You mention you came straight up from the office and she says she didn't realize they let people jaunt back and forth over the River Styx[2] like that, and you say there's a small toll, it's all very very very civilized, and Mark says the cross-town traffic this time of night is honestly murder -

[2] Sohyun's foul mouth comes up with a brilliant joke: that you are dead, but you still walk back and forth over the River Styx, which is the boundary from the living world and the underworld in greek mythology. Curse her!

and hears himself, and stops. Lays an arm along the booth behind her, losing the ability to time himself, and just watches. Like this girl was nothing like what he was looking at, something nearer to wonder, a man at the aquarium glass.

She laughs, turning mid-laugh to bring him in, asking isn't this funny, and finds him already looking at her, gone soft and far off, and the laugh snags in her throat.

Mark calls for the check - On me. Least I can do. For the floor show.

Laying - drunk off my tits the wine we spilt painting the ground there's a barrier that jives around his warm face And I notice then, you could ruin my life

Chapter 2:

A day later,

You get home, you spot a bottle of something brown open, shining on the island. You're good at connecting dots. There were peonies scattered on the floor (Mark is the one to end things with flowers, pleasant as always).

And she's drunk enough to reach for the old shtick. So. Who's the lucky sixty-nine-year-old you've been ruining lately?

My aunt.

Your aunt's dead.

Which would explain why she's been so pleasantly quiet in bed.

She laughs, then she stares at the open window, ruminating:

I had someone. He left his contacts wilted on the bathroom counter, fossilized into half-globes. I'd come home and want to hear about his day - I mean I really wanted to, almost fetishistic, kiss what was left of the razor burn on his neck. He made the worst scrambled eggs. Rubbery, every morning, and I ate them every time. She turns around: ten years of rubber eggs.

What about you, she asks.

I had a woman. You take a sip of the brown she was drinking. She used to argue about the doneness of pancakes and then put her hands up my shirt and call the whole morning menial, and I'd ask: what purpose do we serve. The answer was always: I'm fine right here.

She sits, lets her head rest back against the cushion. Everyone wants somebody to understand their personality and their childhood and what each of those things has done to the other one. That's the scam of it. You show your pale underbelly, turn your ribs inside out, fashion your whole interiority for them and beg them closer, closer than that, even closer - and they get close enough, and then it's - they're already on the other side, and everything's over.

She picks up the bottle and sips. I feel like an alarm. Wailing. That's the humiliation of wanting. Capitalists fooled us into thinking wanting is shameless. Love takes you to shame two times over. 10 years. A scoff at the number.

You're not an alarm.

That's very funny. She stares past you, calculating the whole of you. A lawyer and a venture capitalist with Beckett on the shelf. He'd write us as two people in bins.

I once saw a pigeon on its back, she says. Alive but dying. It blinked at me, tire-smirched, blood-grizzled. I didn't do anything. I should've stepped on its brain. You know why that's sad? Pigeons know how to hurt but don't know how to sin. She drinks. I'm not sad about me. I get exactly what I deserve.

What do you deserve. You ask.

I don't know. Everything terrible. A man who makes bad eggs.

She's close enough now that you get the liquor and under it the her of her, the scalp, the skin, and you think of the skyscraper poem your ex wrote: how we overextend our necks staring at something enormous, like those mornings when someone's still asleep and their face is so calm and wantless and they're not even being a person yet and they're so perfect you want you want you want.

Do we ask the earth for permission? she says. Do we? There are little arachnids living on our eyelashes right now, clearing our pores and mating under the full moon, and their whole lives depend on us, and they never asked and we never asked - do, we, as arachnids, need permission from our earth?

No.

You press a hot hand to her stocking-clad thigh. She presses a flat hand to your chest, slips a whole hand in between the buttons of your shirt, spreads her fingers over the heartbeat.

Do you feel that, you say. Do you feel what you're doing to me.

You hold her hand there until the urge to kiss the fingertips wins - pen-worn hand, redness at the tips from gripping the legal pad all day, nails short and practical. You lift it, kiss one fingertip, and she makes a sound, this small mewl, and leans forward, mouth to your chest through the shirt, your neck, your jaw. You hold still. If you move you'll move wrong. You'll break whatever calculus she's built in her head to let this happen.

How am I supposed to not want you, you say.

What's the difference between you and other men. They're all horrible.

I'm horrible. But I'm here.

Don't be full of yourself. She pulls you in by the tie. You're preposterous

Her fingertips find a piece of twine protruding from a button and incise it. Your mouth on her shoulder. Her spine under your palm. The heft of her hair hooked left, more kisses, the tendon on her neck, the jaw, her mouth again, and she pulled you by the the tie, left and right, kissing whatever remained unkissed - a gesture so old, as old as the grandmother who named an ocean on her grandfather's wrist, who kissed each knuckle, who drew an island into his palm and told him which parts they would share and which they would leave alone - the open brown, the Francis Bacon print on the wall, and to think of her holding you down tugged up the wire of every species on this earth, not the electric inventions, something bigger, a fevered movement across the world, all the trees at once turning dewy -

nothing else matters at all.

stomach-churning pulses grinding through your intestines - and she's between your legs, pressing your legs apart, pulls off her dress shirt, her skirt, all that's remaining: nude bra and panties.

There's a soft unsteadiness in her, the alcohol, the need, the want all combining into this weak-knee'd unsteadiness - you hold her smallest fingers, steady her.

Did you jerk off thinking about me? she asks.

All the fucking time.

She smirks, sinking to her knees, hands bracketing the heat of your thighs. Her hands twist into your trousers.

I want to taste you, the weight of you on my tongue, the stretch. The heat of your cock.

She gently pulls down your trousers all the way, hands tracing the heat of your thighs - ignoring the obvious, the trapped heat.

She reaches up, still kneeling, finds the first button of your shirt, let's a hand go under to feel your warm abs as she unbuttons with one.

Did you do this with Mark, you say.

A smile on her - No, no I didn't. Are you glad?

You sigh with relief -

She grins, splays a hand on your chest, all the buttons off, the heartbeats -

do you feel it Sohyun - do you fucking feel it - you're driving me insane.

She takes a deep breath, breathing you in, the cologne melting off with your sweat, and you dot kisses on her scalp - that flowery shampoo, that smell that's hers, distinctively.

She's easing the lid open on you, finding the kinks in the armor. dotting kisses on your pecs, sitting up, still on her knees, pressing her fingers into soft spots and hard spots alike. She runs her palms down your thighs, closer to your cock, back up again.

You pull her hand into you, hand on her cheek, tilting her head up and pressing your lips onto hers, tonguing at her. Retaliation beckons: she palms your cock, rubs her palm over the heat, working the thin fabric for all it's worth.

She leans forward as she curls fingers over the band of your boxers, kissing the V of your waist, and she trails lower, closer to the heat. And you're pulsing, barely keeping it together and she lets your cock rest next to her neck -

it's so fucking hot

I know, please. you barely let out

please what?

stop fighting me, you're torturing me.

She presses a kiss on the first thick inch she sees:

You're granting me all this control - second inch, fingers curling on the base of your cock. kissing the inches, all the way - and the fingers - wrapped all the way around the thick of it.

it's hard to even close around it. And she's almost relieved.

It's hard to breathe, do you tell her that? Do you tell her that she's ruining you with just her hand staying static around your cock? That her little kisses are already taking you to that extreme?

You're twitching. A venom to her voice.

What do you want? your hands turning white gripping the couch.

I want you to fuck me. fuck my throat, turn me into a whore. I've all this control and it disgusts me.

But before you could process any of it, the sickening thrill of it: she grips harder, lets you throb in her hand, the burn of your cock; and leans forward, dragging her tongue flatly from base to tip in a wet line.

Your thighs tick forward.

And she mewls: I want more of that

She shifts higher, brings her mouth to the head of your cock and lets saliva drip along her tongue.

Pushing, letting it glance unevenly over the head - she flattens her tongue again, drags it over your cock, drags her fingers oh so soft. All this slick, the twist of her wrist, the second hand now closing in around the head of your cock, fist curving tighter over the sensitivity as it slips through all her spit.

And you're losing it: she's turning her wrist near the top, letting it meld into her soft tongue, letting your thick cock hit her tongue once or twice then not again and you can't fucking take it:

please

what?

please - what more can you say? She's trying to end you and it's all self-fulfilling.

you dig your palms into your eyes trying to process, you're already on the edge, twitching, weeping pre-cum onto her tongue and she's taking it all like it's everything to her. like the tears of weeping angels.

Another hip twitch -

this salty-sweet tang of your precum, you're so adorable. And she drags both fists up, spreading the remaining precum all over your cock -

Her mouth connects, sucking hard at the head, gripping tigher with her hands, lips stretched, mouth wide, as she sucks and tries to swallow more of you.

She pops off gently, getting breaths in, letting your weeping corded cock rest on her red-hot lips, before swallowing you back down, all the way until the head of yours bumps the back of her throat.

Relaxes - enough to breathe just a little, your cock still taking space in her throat - pulls your hand all the way to her hair, letting it entangle.

Sohyun's spit-slick, hand lands on top of your hand. And she presses down, like demonstration -

but you yank back, and a girlish yelp leaves her -

You finally coil enough power to get a turn. You pull her up by her armpits - and how light she is, like a fucking doll - you rip the stockings underneath her skirt, let two thick veiny fingers enter her sopping wet pussy.

clit rolling against your rough palm, the wet satin of her panties barely there.

And you scrape your teeth over her neck, sucking a mark onto her, as she bounces desperately over your fingers.

such a little thing, locking her waist into you as you push your fingers even deeper. two fingers trying to tear off her bra. two breasts pressed to your face, a nipple in your mouth.

made to fit me.

Cunt squelching on your palm, head dropping back. And you're sick with it, pulling her underwear to the side to watch her cunt weeping on your fingers.

Kissing all over chest, marking her up with your mouth.

On the bed, you think, sink inside her -

but you grab your cock anyway, dragging your head along the slippery pink of her pussy, and Sohyun moans - all sorts of needy that makes your cock throb, weep outside her.

sink on me, princess.

She sinks, forehead pressed to yours, and she's trying -

Feeling her, the wet and slick and tight - the spasm of her cunt, the clench, the leak of her arousal down your veiny cock.

You're fucking her raw, without a condom, rutting up into her, again and again, and she pushes back gently, trying to find a pace that doesn't utterly ruin her and you're chasing her, fucking her deeper, ruining her little pussy.

Until she presses a soft hand to your shoulder, leaning back, face flushed, nipples pink and hard, stomach tensed.

Stare at her - how fucking ruined she is: swollen lips from sucking your cock like it was made for her, sweat beading down her forehead - god is the sweat running down her face. You kiss the salt-worked forehead - a moment of softness.

Then she rolls gently, slipping a hand between her legs, past your thumb resting on her clit, onto the soaking mess of her, that hot pink mess that she's responsible for -

let me hear you, you growl, to her collar, kissing the blooming hickeys you left earlier.

grab at her hips, sit straighter, pull her into your body, let her wrap her hands around your shoulder - grasp at levity as this goddess is cock-drunk off you, still rolling, offering her clit to your thumb.

And she pants.

Clinging onto you.

letting her sopping cunt cling onto you like this was fucking prophecy - it's hot - sweat beading along your back, between your bodies, sticky - the wet noise of her cunt being excavated by a cock a smidge too large.

You're both close, these petty uncoordinated movements making the orgasm closer - sensitivities reaching an opus - only these little shifts of her hips - the urge to stretch this moment for as long as possible

And only then: the quietest orgasm, stuck to the top of her breasts, barely hanging in there, her waist locked between your thick forearms, cum spreading, filling in whatever was left between you.

poems for fucking:

romantic walks up your arm with my lips dinner on your collarbones, a bottle of wine paper bagged somewhere on your ribs I want to see your city, and by don't take me home just yet I really mean: Let's share a whiskey, take the train over your city, spot the pennies lodged between the pavement - let's make sure every part of your skin's been kiss-bitten and that'll take us a while and if it means anything at all, putting a stamp upside-down means I love you and I would turn over every post office in the world just to show you how much I care.

You wake to the cold half of the bed, and the rest of it makes a grim kind of sense: she's gone. Most of her stuff is still here, her shoes, but her daily shoes - gone.

You call, and it rings and rings until the call cancels - you text and the delivered stays there.

It's a Saturday. There's nowhere a person needs to be on a Saturday - but she's a workaholic - and the dots connect: you drive to her firm.

The weekend guard waves you up on account of being acquainted with Sohyun. And you get to the floor where she's usually working, and there she was, through the glass - neat-clothed, glasses on her, working hard on a case you'd never understand.

She looks up and clocks you, immediately bolting to the men's restroom - not toward the elevators or the stairs. And you go in after her -

Sohyun. I just want to talk

God, listen to you. "I just want to talk" Do you have any idea how many women have said that to your back while you looked for your shoes?

Yes. I'm aware of the irony, it's why I'm standing inside your firm at eight a.m instead of pretending you don't exist.

There's nothing to talk about. We were drunk, it was -

There was a shuffle outside the door - an employee? - but before you could look back, she pulled you by your tie into one of the stalls.

And you were dangerously close to her, her face, this face you've been in love with since forever. The one face that you cannot imagine living without - Listen, you try to say -

and she's off the tiles, fist in your tie, pulling you down, kissing you. Shut up.

You take her face in both hands, gently, and hold her back just far enough that the kiss can't keep doing the talking.

I'm not leaving. I'm going to be the worst thing that ever happened to your avoidance. Kiss me to keep me quiet all you like. I'll enjoy it, I'll still be here when you open your eyes.

Her hands press against your shirt, head pressed to your sternum. She stays there for a moment.

Starts kneeling -

Sohyun. You catch her hands. You dont have to -

I know. She looks up, Let me.

The Castrator, who has never once knelt to a man in her life, lowering herself to the tile of the worst room in the building.

You put a hand in her hair, to hold. The dots connect.

Daddy, she mewls.

Hands in your lap.

There's no sympathy for her. You're in this cramped bathroom with her, your groin pushed up to her face, and all she can say is: Daddy.

Open your mouth

Through the small opening in her mouth, you slot in a finger, trace the lower lip and upper lip - gather spit from the tip of her tongue to glaze her lips.

Wider. You say.

She's just sitting there, rubbing her thighs together - like she isn't so fucked and slippery in her underwear that just a small touch could make her cum - that you pressing a finger into her mouth - letting her throat close around that digit - wouldn't make her burst into decibels and let the whole town know that you are fucking her dumb.

She's staring at how you unbutton your pants. Button by button, all the way until your cock's out half-mast diagonal to her face and she's fucking drooling. Slowly moving forward and you pin her head to the wall of the bathroom stall.

How do you want this dick?

Like how you fucked all those other girls.

You think I'm not enjoying every moment with you? That day, we fucked like lovers. You cup her cheeks with one hand and her glazed lips point out duck-like. I'll show you what I like.

You bundle two fingers - index and ring - down her mouth, until her throat closes and she half-gags. Eyes fill with these tears and she tries to straighten herself. Fingers still down there, and it makes it hard for her breathe but -

She's fucking climaxing, barely keeping her hands on her lap. A breathless moan escapes her and you take this opportunity to let your fingers in deeper. Her chest jerks, a tear goes down her left cheek as your knuckles bump her teeth.

Roughly: good girl.

White-knuckled against her spit-trickled dress shirt that won her millions in lawsuits. Just then, you pull your fingers out, and she finally gets to swallow down.

You should be able to price anything. Be cutthroat about it, hedge your potential losses, then hedge on top of them - that's the only way to win. You've seen people go full-in, bet their futures on a life they so desperately deserve and by the end of it, they're lost souls, begging for the past. You thought it made you the only adult in the room. Then the day after that you came inside her and everything crumpled.

Your spit-slick fingers wrapped around your cock and you fisted it gently, just inches away from her mouth. She couldn't help but move forward, but you pin her head again and she's completely mindless - obeying any mechanic of hers that'll grant her a feather of stimulus. You tap your cock against her tongue. You could see the way her lips twitched to close, but she seemed to contextualize enough to know that anything that you didn't allow would be swiftly punished. And maybe now everything was dawning on her:

That you enjoyed sex with her rather than the opposite - that it's supposed to be as intimate as the day you came inside her.

Because this? This was heady, broken, and embarrassing - and all of it was happening in her own office bathroom that she shares with subordinates. One mistake and she's kicked off the ladder. And yet:

I want all of it. I want it. I want it.

You could see how her cloudy eyes mechanized - she was about to cum again - you let your tip on her tongue and she's already around the cycle again. You press the heft of your shaft into her mouth and push in gently. Push in gently because she already came, push in gently because you want to savor - for a few moments longer - how she crumples under you.

You're gentle with it, letting her set the pace, letting her get breaths between strokes. She anchors herself, and this control you give her makes her shiver - even the way her throat clenches when she goes too fucking deep.

She pulls back to breathe, a strand of saliva still connects your tip and her lower lip. And she's staring at the corded red-tipped shaft, speechless.

Stand up

She does, her skirt crumpled just a way's up. She's expectant, wanting something. But this wasn't a day for her wants.

You grab the waistbands of her panties and nylon, pull it down midway and her pussy's just glistening - all-pink, heady, musky, almost pulsing.

Hold your skirt up

And she does, further surrendering to your hand around her throat. And everything was a bit clearer:

You began fisting your spit-slick cock again, pointed down to her panties. Another embarrassing and heady position she can't seem to get enough of: Her eyes are full of will-you's and wants that she can't act on. You press a thumb over her pulse - grunting more hunch-backed trying to not spray your cum too early - and you tighten, tighten until she grips your forearms and loses her breath for just a second - then you release. There's this rush of inhales and exhales as she catches some air and you repeat the choke - until, just until, you press harder than you've done before - her legs going loose, eyes going to back of her head - and you cum all over her panties. Cloudy liquid dotting her skirt, the floor, the nylon , the front of her pussy, and all over the panties.

Fuck.

Is all she says, can say. You pin her jaw to the side so that she can't look at you, only the door, the cruel door that may open for a coworker - and you jolt closer, scooping a bit of your cum and letting two fingers enter her just then. And she's already climaxing, screaming in her own hand.

This is what happens when I do what I want.

Your nose is buried into her exposed throat and your fingers throttling her pussy. your callused hand scraping the hood of her clit, your hooked finger rubbing that spot that makes her legs splinter half-way. You take your fingers out and mash the front of her pussy with the heel of your palm before going into her again. She's rolling with how your cum-slicked fingers penetrate her.

Her body finally gives out and that's when you hug her, your fingers still slotted into her.

In truth, I can't fuck you the way I fucked these other girls. Your fingers finally slow their rolls. I want to enjoy my time with you, not treat you like trash.

And her reply, as best as it could be presented: a wet kiss, hands wrapped around you, grasping the hair behind your head.

Her kiss fluttered gently as you finally let her have one final climax.

I love you.

As the years passed through elementary school, your friendship deepened into something that felt like family, yet carried an undercurrent neither of you could name. You defended her when older boys teased her for being too shy in class. She stayed up late with you during exam week, drawing silly cartoons in the margins of your notebooks to make you smile when you got frustrated with math. Summers were spent at the riverside paths along the Gapcheon, splashing in the shallow water, building small stone towers that the current eventually washed away, or exploring the green hills near the apartment complex, collecting pretty stones and fallen leaves from the trees. Winters meant huddling under the same blanket in your living room, watching cartoons while your mothers cooked kimchi jjigae that filled the apartment with warmth.

By middle school, the bond had grown, more layered. Puberty began to stir awkward changes. You noticed how Seoyeon’s cheeks would flush when other girls teased her about “having a boyfriend”, and you felt an unfamiliar tightness in your chest whenever boys started glancing her way in the hallways. She had grown into a graceful girl but still short like a hamster, soft features, and a gentle smile that made your stomach twist in ways you didn’t understand. She was your best friend, after all.

You shared everything, secrets, dreams, fears. Late at night, you would sneak onto the rooftop of your building and lie on an old blanket, staring at the city lights of Daejeon and the faint stars that managed to pierce through the haze. She confessed she wanted to become a writer one day, to capture the small, quiet moments of life that people usually overlooked. You admitted you dreamed of studying engineering, perhaps at KAIST right there in Daejeon or moving to Seoul, but the thought of leaving her behind always left a hollow feeling. Sometimes your hands would brush while reaching for the same snack, and you’d both pull away too quickly, hearts beating a little faster. You felt things, warm, fluttering things, when she leaned her head on your shoulder during those rooftop talks, her hair smelling of the coconut shampoo she used. But you never acted on them. She was Seoyeon. Your Seoyeon. Crossing that line felt impossible, like risking the only constant in your life.

The two of you advanced together through the ups and downs of adolescence. You celebrated each other’s birthdays with homemade cakes that always turned out slightly lopsided. You practiced for school festivals together, she helped you with your clumsy dance moves for the talent show, and you listened patiently while she read her short stories aloud, her voice soft and earnest. There were moments of jealousy too, quiet and buried. When she started getting closer to a guy in her art club, you felt an irrational sting. When a girl from your class confessed to you, you turned her down gently, your mind drifting to Seoyeon’s face instead. These feelings remained unspoken, simmering beneath the surface of your easy camaraderie. You hugged her often, quick, friendly hugs after good news or bad days, but you always held back from letting your arms linger, from breathing in the scent of her too deeply, from noticing how her developing body felt against yours during those innocent embraces.

Then came high school.

The three years of high school marked a slow, painful distancing that neither of you seemed able to stop. You both tested into the same competitive high school in Daejeon, but the new environment brought pressure, new social circles, and different paths. Seoyeon threw herself into literature clubs and writing competitions, staying late at school to edit the student magazine. You focused on science and math tracks, preparing rigorously for university entrance exams, joining study groups that kept you out until late evenings. The daily walks to school became less frequent as your schedules diverged. Texts grew shorter, replies slower. The rooftop meetings became rare, replaced by occasional weekend catch-ups at a café near the apartment complex that felt increasingly formal.

In your first year, you still sat together during lunch sometimes, sharing earphones to listen to music. By second year, those lunches happened maybe once a month. You watched from afar as she bloomed, more confident, more beautiful, with her hair grown longer and a quiet poise that drew quiet admiration from others. You felt that familiar twist in your chest whenever you saw her laughing with new friends in the hallways, but you told yourself it was natural. People grew apart. It was part of life. She seemed busier, more distant, focused on her future as a novelist. You buried yourself in textbooks and part-time tutoring, trying to ignore how empty the stairwell felt without her footsteps echoing behind yours.

The distancing wasn’t dramatic, no fights, no dramatic confessions. It was the quiet erosion of time and circumstance. By third year, you exchanged polite nods in the hallways, occasional “How have you been?” messages on KakaoTalk that went days without replies. The childhood closeness, the middle school warmth, the unacted-upon feelings, all of it seemed to fade into memory. You graduated separately, attending different after-parties with your respective groups. As you stood on the stage receiving your diploma, you caught a glimpse of her across the auditorium, her eyes meeting yours for a brief second before the crowd swallowed the moment.

That chapter ended with both of you stepping into adulthood, carrying the weight of what once was, and what was never said.

After graduation, the distance that had grown between you and Yoon Seoyeon in high school carried over into the start of university. Both of you were accepted into KAIST in Daejeon, your dream school for engineering, and a strong fit for Seoyeon’s literature and creative writing interests through their interdisciplinary programs. The campus, with its modern buildings nestled among green hills and the nearby Gapcheon river, felt both exciting and overwhelming. You moved into a dorm on the east side of campus with your assigned roommate, while Seoyeon settled into a different dormitory block closer to the humanities buildings. For the first semester, your paths rarely crossed. Occasional polite KakaoTalk messages “Did you settle in okay?” and the random sighting across the expansive central plaza were the extent of your interactions. The childhood warmth and middle-school closeness felt like echoes from another life.

That changed during the second semester of your first year.

A big freshman mixer party was organized by the student council at a large off-campus venue near the Yuseong-gu area, a lively night of music, cheap soju, snacks, and group games designed to help new students connect across departments. You attended with your growing circle of engineering friends: Kim Tae-sung, your loud and energetic roommate from Seoul who was studying mechanical engineering and always dragged you to social events, and Park Ji-hoon, a quiet but sharp-witted guy from your calculus study group. On Seoyeon’s side, she came with her literature-focused friends, Han Ji-eun, a bubbly short-story enthusiast who quickly became her closest friend, and Lee Min-kyung, a more reserved poetry major.

The mixer was chaotic and fun. Group icebreakers turned into team games, and as the night progressed with rounds of drinks and loud K-pop blasting, two couples unexpectedly formed. Tae-sung hit it off instantly with Ji-eun; their loud laughter and shared love for webtoons led to an impulsive kiss during a truth or dare segment. At the same time, Ji-hoon, usually so reserved, spent the entire evening in deep conversation with Min-kyung about philosophy and literature, and by the end of the night they exchanged numbers with shy smiles and plans for a study date.

This double pairing acted like glue. What started as two separate friend groups fused rapidly into one big, overlapping circle. Weekend gatherings, late-night study sessions at the 24-hour campus library, group trips to the nearby hot springs in Yuseong, and casual dorm parties became the new normal. Suddenly, Seoyeon was back in your daily orbit.

At first, the reconnection was tentative, wrapped in the safety of the larger group. You were both polite, almost formal. But the old familiarity was still there, like muscle memory. During a group dinner at a samgyeopsal restaurant near campus, when someone asked about childhood stories, Seoyeon glanced at you with a small, knowing smile and said, “Hyun-woo once tried to ‘rescue’ a pigeon that was perfectly fine and ended up chasing it around the rooftop for twenty minutes.” The table erupted in laughter, and for the first time in years, you felt that old, warm feeling in your chest as her eyes lingered on yours a second longer than necessary.

There was an easy trust between you two that the others noticed. Seoyeon would naturally sit near you during group study sessions in the library, and you’d slide her your notes on technical writing without her even asking, remembering how she struggled with structured essays. In return, she’d quietly bring you a can of coffee from the vending machine when she saw you pulling all-nighters for engineering projects, remembering your habit of drinking it black during stressful times. The group dynamic made it safe, there was always someone else around, so the rekindled closeness didn’t feel threatening. Yet you couldn’t ignore how your gaze would drift to her during group movie nights in someone’s dorm, watching the way the screen’s light played across her face: softer jawline, longer hair that she often tied back loosely, and the same gentle eyes that had once looked up at you from that puddle years ago.

Throughout the rest of the first year, this familiarity deepened without anyone addressing it directly. You trusted her implicitly. When you bombed your first major physics midterm and felt crushed, you found yourself texting her late at night instead of Tae-sung. She met you at a quiet bench by the Gapcheon river path, listening patiently as you vented, then sharing her own insecurities about whether her writing was “good enough” for the competitive KAIST environment. You walked her back to her dorm that night, the silence comfortable rather than awkward, your shoulders occasionally brushing. She trusted you too, confiding in you about how overwhelming the transition to university had been, how she sometimes missed the simplicity of your old rooftop talks at home.

By the start of your second year, the fused group was tight-knit. Tae-sung and Ji-eun were officially dating, often dragging everyone on couple-heavy outings that somehow still included the whole crew. Ji-hoon and Min-kyung moved slower but were clearly serious, studying together almost every evening. This created natural moments for you and Seoyeon to pair off within the group. During a group hiking trip to the nearby mountains in the fall of second year, you ended up walking beside her on the trail. The conversation flowed effortlessly, from complaining about professors to reminiscing about stealing tteok as kids. When she slipped on a loose rock, your hand instinctively shot out to steady her waist. The contact was brief, but you both froze for a heartbeat, her cheeks flushing the same way they had in middle school. You pulled away quickly, muttering “You need to be careful,” while your pulse raced.

In the later half of your second year, the evolution became more noticeable, at least to you. The trust had matured into something deeper and more intimate within the bounds of friendship. Late-night group study sessions often spilled into personal talks. You began to notice, and feel, things again: the way her laughter made the room feel brighter, how she unconsciously leaned toward you when tired, the subtle coconut scent of her shampoo that still hit you with nostalgia. During a rainy evening when the group was stuck in your dorm watching movies, she fell asleep against your shoulder. You didn’t move for two hours, hyper-aware of her warmth, the soft rise and fall of her breathing, and the way her hair spilled across your arm. Tae-sung looked at us and smirked but said nothing.

Seoyeon, for her part, seemed to seek your presence more. She asked you to review her short stories before submission, valuing your honest feedback because, as she said quietly one evening, “You’ve always understood the parts of me I don’t like to say out loud.” You helped her with presentation slides for her literature seminars, staying up until 3 a.m. in the common lounge, shoulders touching as you both hunched over the laptop. The unacted feelings simmered stronger now, the quiet jealousy when other male students approached her after class, the protective urge when she looked stressed, the flutter in your stomach when her hand brushed yours while passing snacks during group gatherings. But with all the friend group always around, and the fear of ruining this comfortable arrangement, neither of you crossed any lines. It remained a deep, trusting friendship layered with history and unspoken tension.

By the end of your second year at KAIST, the group had become family. You and Seoyeon existed in a space of profound familiarity and trust, able to read each other’s moods with a glance, share vulnerabilities the others didn’t see, and support one another through the intense academic pressure of KAIST. The childhood friends had become university companions again, closer than ever, yet still carefully balanced on the edge of something more.

By the start of your third year at KAIST, the friend group had become the anchor of your university life. The easy familiarity and deep trust between you and Seoyeon continued to grow in quiet, steady ways, but the unspoken tension underneath it all had begun to feel heavier. The group noticed it too, though they never said anything directly. Tae-sung would occasionally nudge you with a knowing smirk during group dinners, while Ji-eun would whisper something to Seoyeon that made her cheeks tint pink before changing the subject. Ji-hoon and Min-kyung, being the quieter pair, simply observed with soft smiles, content to let things unfold naturally.

The build-up to the turning point stretched across the third year and into the fourth. Academic pressure at KAIST was relentless, midterms, capstone projects, research presentations, but the group made time for each other. In the fall of third year, Tae-sung and Ji-eun organized a group trip to a small pension house near the mountains outside Daejeon to celebrate their one-year anniversary. The five-day stay was meant to be a break from being on campus: hiking during the day, barbecue and drinks at night, and a fire pit. It was during this trip that the tension between you and Seoyeon became impossible to ignore.

On the third night, after a long hike and too much soju, the group sat around the fire. Tae-sung, ever the loud one, started a game of “Never Have I Ever,” which quickly turned nostalgic. When he said, “Never have I ever had a childhood friend I secretly wanted more with,” Ji-eun elbowed him, but everyone’s eyes flicked toward you and Seoyeon. She laughed it off lightly, but you caught the way her gaze lingered on you across the flames, the firelight dancing in her dark eyes. Later that night, as the group dispersed to their rooms, Seoyeon stayed behind, poking at the dying embers. You sat with her in comfortable silence for a while before she spoke softly.

“Hyun-woo… do you ever think about how we drifted apart in high school?” Her voice was gentle, almost hesitant. “And how it feels like we found each other again.”

You nodded, heart beating faster. “Every day. It feels like we never really left, though. Like you were always there.” You wanted to say more, but the words caught in your throat. She smiled, a small, sad-sweet smile, and the moment passed. But it planted the seed.

Back on campus, the group continued to create spaces where you two were thrown together. Ji-hoon and Min-kyung, now deeply serious about their relationship, often paired up for couple activities and subtly invited you and Seoyeon as the “singles” to balance things out, study dates that turned into four person dinners, or movie nights in the dorm lounge where they conveniently left two spaces together. Tae-sung was less subtle; he once loudly announced during a group lunch, “You two have known each other forever. It’s kinda cute how you still finish each other’s sentences.” Seoyeon had blushed deeply that day, avoiding your eyes while you felt warmth spread through your chest.

As fourth year began, the weight of graduation and future plans added another layer. You were deep into your engineering thesis, spending long hours in the lab. Seoyeon was polishing her creative writing portfolio, hoping to publish a short story collection. The unacted feelings had become a constant undercurrent. You noticed everything about her now: the way she tucked her hair behind her ear when focused, how her voice softened when she spoke to you compared to others, the gentle curve of her smile that still made your stomach flutter after all these years. She seemed to seek you out more too than ever, texting you first to review her drafts, asking you to walk with her along the Gapcheon river path after evening classes because “it feels safer with you.”

The climax came on a quiet evening in late spring of your fourth year, just weeks before final exams and graduation preparations. The group had gathered at a small pojangmacha tent (those red tents from K-drama) near campus for dinner, grilled pork, cold beer, and endless side dishes. The mood was bittersweet; everyone was talking about post-graduation plans. Tae-sung and Ji-eun were planning to move to Seoul together. Ji-hoon and Min-kyung had applied to the same graduate program. When the conversation turned to you and Seoyeon, she grew unusually quiet.

After the meal, as the group began to split up, Seoyeon pulled you aside. “Can we talk? Just us?” Her voice was steady, but there was a nervous determination in her eyes. Tae-sung gave you a thumbs-up behind her back before Ji-eun dragged him away, leaving the two of you alone on the dimly lit path back toward the KAIST campus.

You walked in silence for a few minutes, the spring air cool and carrying the scent of blooming cherry blossoms. Finally, Seoyeon stopped under a streetlamp near the edge of campus, turning to face you. Her long hair swayed gently in the breeze, and her cheeks were flushed, not just from the soju earlier, but from something she had been waiting to say for some time already.

“Hyun-woo,” she began, her voice soft but clear, eyes locked on yours with a vulnerability you had rarely seen. “I’ve been thinking about us a lot lately. About how we’ve known each other since we were six… how you were always there, even when we drifted in high school. How coming back together at KAIST felt like fate giving us another chance.” She took a small step closer, her hands fidgeting with the hem of her light cardigan. “All these years, I felt things for you. Warm feelings. Safe feelings. The kind that made my heart race when you smiled at me on the rooftop as kids, or when you steadied me on that hike. I never acted on them because I was scared of losing you. But I don’t want to graduate and wonder ‘what if’ anymore.”

Her confession hung in the air, raw and honest. Before you could respond, Seoyeon closed the remaining distance. She reached up slowly, her fingers lightly touching your arm, then sliding up to rest on your chest as if drawing courage from the steady beat of your heart. Standing on her tiptoes, she pressed her lips to yours in a gentle, tentative kiss. It was soft, achingly soft, her mouth warm and slightly trembling against yours. Her free hand cupped your cheek, thumb brushing lightly over your skin as she lingered there, pouring years of unspoken affection into that single, romantic moment. You could taste the faint sweetness of the strawberry soju she’d had earlier, feel the delicate press of her body as she leaned into you, not demanding, but offering.

When she pulled back after several long seconds, her eyes were shining, a mix of nervousness and relief on her face. “I love you, Hyun-woo. Not just as my oldest friend. As more. I have for a long time.”

The world felt still around you, the distant hum of campus life fading as you stood there, foreheads nearly touching. You wrapped your arms around her waist, holding her close in a warm, secure embrace, finally letting yourself sink into the feelings you had buried for so many years. The kiss had been romantic, full of tenderness and history, a beautiful release of all the pent-up emotions that had built from childhood through university.

From that night on, your relationship shifted. The friends celebrated quietly, Ji-eun squealing with excitement when Seoyeon told her the next day, Tae-sung clapping you on the back with a “Finally!”, but they gave you space as you and Seoyeon began navigating this new chapter together in your final weeks at KAIST.

The night Seoyeon kissed you under the streetlamp marked the beginning of everything you had quietly yearned for since childhood. In the days that followed, you made sure to be more vocal than you had ever been. The morning after, you met her outside her dorm with coffee in hand, black for you, with a touch of honey for her, and pulled her into a warm hug right there on the path.

“Seoyeon-ah,” you said softly against her hair, voice thick with emotion, “I want to say something so it’s clear. I’ve loved you for so long. Not just as my best friend. I loved the girl who saved beetles with me, the one who listened to all my stupid dreams on the rooftop, the woman you’ve become here at KAIST. I was scared too… but no more. I love you.”

She melted into your arms, and from then on, the two of you were official.

The last weeks of university were a whirlwind of bittersweet intensity. Final presentations, thesis defenses, and graduation rehearsals filled the days, but every spare moment belonged to each other. You walked her to classes, fingers intertwined, no longer hiding the affection you had suppressed for years. During late-night study sessions in the library, you would pull her onto your lap when no one was looking, kissing her temple and whispering, “I can’t believe I get to do this now.” Seoyeon would blush and bury her face in your neck, humming the old trot songs from your childhood.

Post-graduation plans became a frequent topic during quiet evenings by the Gapcheon river. You had secured a research engineer position at a semiconductor company in Daejeon, allowing you to stay close. Seoyeon had been accepted into a creative writing MFA program in Seoul but hesitated, worried about distance. One night, sitting on a bench with her head on your shoulder, you spoke firmly: “If Seoul is what you need for your writing, we’ll make it work. I’ll visit every weekend. Or… I can look for opportunities there too. I’m not letting distance pull us apart again. You’re my priority now, Seoyeon. Always.”

She kissed you deeply that night, tears in her eyes, murmuring how much your words meant to her.

The friend group, of course, was thrilled but insatiably curious. A week before graduation, Tae-sung organized one final big gathering at the pojangmacha near campus, the same place where Seoyeon had first confessed. The six of you filled a table with grilled meats, soju, and endless banchan. Laughter echoed as you reminisced about the mixer that had fused your groups years earlier.

At one point, the girls, Seoyeon, Ji-eun, and Min-kyung, excused themselves to the restroom together. The guys stayed at the table. Tae-sung immediately leaned in with a grin. “So, Hyun-woo… spill it. You two have been glued at the hip since the confession. How far have you gone? Don’t tell me you’re still acting like middle-schoolers.”

You rubbed the back of your neck, cheeks heating, but the soju loosened your tongue. “Just kissing,” you admitted with a shy laugh. “Lots of kissing. Holding each other. I want our first time to be… right. Special. After everything we’ve been through, it deserves to mean something.”

Tae-sung clapped you on the back while Ji-hoon nodded approvingly. “Respect, man. But don’t wait too long—graduation is basically tomorrow.”

Meanwhile, in the restroom, the girls surrounded Seoyeon. Ji-eun, ever the bold one, asked directly: “Unnie, be honest. Have you and Hyun-woo… you know?”

Seoyeon shook her head, smiling softly. “Only kissing. Deep, beautiful kissing. He’s been so patient and romantic. It makes me love him even more. We both want the first time to feel special after all these years.”

Ji-eun squealed while Min-kyung hugged her gently. The groups reunited with knowing looks but didn’t tease further, respecting the depth of your shared history.

Graduation came and went in a blur of gowns, photos, and tearful goodbyes. Two days later, with the campus emptying and your friends beginning their moves, you and Seoyeon finally had true privacy. Your parents had helped you rent a small, cozy apartment near the KAIST area for the summer transition, simple but yours. Seoyeon had decided to defer her MFA start by a semester to stay in Daejeon with you.

The evening arrived naturally. You had cooked a simple meal together, her favorite kimchi jjigae, and shared a bottle of wine on the small balcony overlooking the city lights. Conversation flowed easily, laced with years of memories and new affection.

“Hyun-woo,” she whispered later, standing in the living room with you, arms wrapped around your waist. “I’m ready. I want you. All of you.”

You cupped her face, heart pounding. “I want you too, Seoyeon. More than anything. I love you.”

You led her to the bedroom, the air thick with anticipation and tenderness. Clothes came off slowly, reverently. You peeled away her blouse, kissing every inch of newly exposed skin, her collarbones, the soft swell of her breasts, her stomach, whispering how beautiful she was, how you had dreamed of this. She trembled under your touch, her hands exploring your chest and shoulders with equal wonder, tracing the lines of muscle you had built from late-night gym sessions to clear your head during university stress.

When you were both bare, you laid her gently on the bed, covering her body with yours. The feeling of skin on skin was electric. You kissed her deeply, tongues dancing, as your hands roamed. Her breasts were full and soft, nipples hardening under your palms and then your mouth as you sucked one gently, then the other, drawing soft moans from her lips. “Hyun-woo…” she breathed, fingers threading through your hair.

You took your time exploring her. Your hand slid down her toned stomach, between her thighs, finding her already wet and warm. You circled her clit slowly, then dipped a finger inside her tight heat, then two, curling them as she gasped and arched. She was soaking, her walls clenching around your fingers while you kissed her neck and whispered, “You feel perfect. So wet for me. I’ve wanted this for so long.”

Seoyeon’s hand wrapped around your hard cock, stroking you with shy but eager movements, her thumb brushing over the sensitive head where precum had beaded. “I want you inside me,” she murmured, voice husky with need and love.

You positioned yourself between her spread legs, rubbing your throbbing length along her slick folds before pressing the head against her entrance. Looking into her eyes the entire time, you pushed in slowly. She was incredibly tight, her walls stretching around your thick shaft inch by inch. The sensation was overwhelming, hot, velvety, perfect. She winced slightly at the fullness, so you paused, kissing her softly until she relaxed.

“I love you,” you groaned as you bottomed out, buried to the hilt inside her. The intimacy was profound, years of friendship, trust, and longing culminating in this union. You stayed still for a moment, savoring how her pussy pulsed around you, then began to thrust gently, building a slow, deep rhythm.

Seoyeon wrapped her legs around your waist, heels digging into your back as she met your movements. Her moans grew louder, sweeter, gasps of your name mixed with cries of pleasure. You made love to her with everything you had: long, deliberate strokes that hit deep, grinding against her clit with every thrust. Your hands held hers above her head, fingers interlaced, as you watched her face contort in ecstasy, flushed cheeks, parted lips, eyes glazed with love and lust.

You switched positions so she could ride you, her hands on your chest for balance as she sank down onto your cock again. The sight of her above you, breasts bouncing, hair cascading, hips rolling, nearly undid you. You reached up to thumb her clit, feeling her tighten and tremble as her first orgasm washed over her. Her pussy clenched rhythmically around your shaft, juices coating you as she cried out.

Not long after, you flipped her onto her back again, thrusting harder but still filled with emotion. “Come with me, Seoyeon,” you panted. “I’m so close.”

She nodded, nails digging into your shoulders. Your pace quickened, the wet sounds of your bodies joining filling the room alongside your shared moans. With a deep groan, you buried yourself as far as possible and came hard, pulsing thick ropes of cum deep inside her welcoming heat. The feeling triggered her second climax, her walls milking every drop from you as she shook beneath you.

You collapsed together, sweaty and spent, holding each other tightly. You stayed inside her for a long time afterward, softening slowly while exchanging soft kisses and whispered “I love you”. Tears of overwhelming emotion slipped from both your eyes.

This was more than sex. It was the culmination of a lifetime of connection finally, complete surrender to each other.