#eunbi

Her guilt about the accident is evident in every breath. It’s been hanging around her like a cheap perfume since it happened. Just a stupid, simple accident. She was at the studio, reaching for a box on a high shelf, overextending on a wobbly step stool she knew she should have thrown out ages ago. The fall was nasty. A clean break in her tibia and a severely bruised lower back from where she slammed into a rack of equipment on the way down. You’ve told her a dozen times it wasn’t her fault, that it was just bad luck, but you see the way she winces, and you know it’s not just from the pain.

"I got you," you murmur, pressing a soft kiss to her temple as you carry her toward the front door. You fumble with the keys for a second before managing to get the door open, stepping over the threshold into the familiar comfort of your home. The crutches are waiting right where you left them, leaning against the entryway table.

You gently set her down on the plush living room couch, her body sinking into the cushions. For a moment, you both just breathe. She’s home. Finally.

"Alright, mission accomplished," you say, trying to keep your tone light. "Now you have one job and one job only: be a couch potato. A queen, even. Your throne awaits. I'll take care of literally everything else."

Eunbi’s brow furrows, that familiar look of stubbornness you know so well creeping onto her face. She pushes herself up a bit, her hand resting on her sore back.

"I can't just sit here and watch you do everything. It’s not fair. Let me at least handle dinner. I can sit on a stool in the kitchen."

You move to sit on the coffee table in front of her, taking her hands in yours. They feel small and cool.

"Hey. We talked about this. No. You need to rest, properly rest, so you can heal. I’ve got this. All of it. I want to do it."

You lean in and kiss her, a soft, lingering press of lips that’s meant to convey everything you can’t always put into words. Your love, your relief, your unwavering promise to care for her. When you pull back, you see the shine of guilt still swimming in her eyes. You know she feels like a burden, and you hate it.

"First things first," you say, changing the subject. "Let's get you out of these hospital-issue sweats and into a proper shower. You’ll feel a million times better."

Getting her to the bathroom is a slow, careful process involving the crutches and your steadying hands. The bathroom feels small and cramped as you help her. You grab the plastic shower stool you bought yesterday and place it securely under the spray. You help her peel off the loose-fitting clothes, your fingers brushing against her warm skin. Her body is just as you’ve memorized it: compact, toned, but crowned with those incredible breasts, full and heavy and so wonderfully out of proportion with the rest of her petite frame.

They’re your favorite paradox.

The logistics of the shower are tricky. You wrap her cast securely in a heavy-duty plastic bag, sealing it tight with tape. You help her onto the stool, her hands gripping your shoulders for balance. You stay with her, adjusting the water temperature until it’s perfect, lathering a washcloth and gently scrubbing her back, her shoulders, her arms. It’s an act of pure intimacy, stripped of lust and built on a foundation of care. You wash her hair, your fingers massaging her scalp, and she leans her head back, her eyes closed, a genuine, relaxed smile finally gracing her lips. After rinsing her off, you carefully help her out, wrapping her in the fluffiest towel you own before getting her into a pair of your softest sleep shorts and one of your old, worn-in t-shirts. The fabric hangs loose on her, smelling like you.

Once she’s settled back on the couch, a fortress of pillows built around her, you head to the kitchen with a renewed sense of purpose.

"To celebrate your triumphant return, I will be preparing your absolute favorite," you announce dramatically. "Spicy kimchi jjigae."

You can hear her soft laugh from the living room. You’re not the best cook, but you can follow instructions. You pull up a tutorial on your phone, propping it against the backsplash. You wash the rice, chop the onions and tofu, and pull the tub of aged kimchi from the fridge. The familiar, pungent smell fills the kitchen. You’re focused, determined to make this perfect for her. The sizzling of pork belly hitting the hot pot is a satisfying sound, and for a while, you lose yourself in the methodical process of cooking.

You’re stirring the bubbling, vibrant red stew when you hear the soft thud and scrape of crutches against the hardwood floor. You turn to see Eunbi standing in the kitchen doorway, looking small and serious in your oversized shirt.

"Hey, you're supposed to be resting, remember?" you chide gently.

She ignores you, her gaze intense.

"So, how are we going to do it?"

You blink, confused by the sudden shift in topic. You gesture with the ladle towards the steaming pot.

"Do what? The soup? It's almost done. Smells pretty good, right?"

"No," she says. "Sex."

You almost drop the ladle. You let out a short, surprised laugh, turning back to the stove to busy your hands.

"Babe, that’s... not exactly a priority right now. It's irrelevant. The only thing you need to be focused on is getting better."

She hobbles a step closer, her expression unwavering.

"It’s not irrelevant. It's a healthy and necessary habit for human beings. Especially for us."

And damn it, she’s right. The two of you fuck. A lot. It’s not just a habit; it’s a part of your language, the way you connect and de-stress and show love. It’s woven into the fabric of your relationship. You can’t imagine going weeks, maybe even a month or more, without it. Without feeling the weight of her on top of you, without burying your face in those amazing tits, without burying yourself deep inside her.

The memory of the hospital handjob flashes in your mind. It was late, after visiting hours, the room dim and quiet. She’d insisted, her small hand working you under the thin blanket with a practiced skill that was both frustrating and incredibly hot. You’d come with a muffled groan, the release sharp but fleeting, a pale imitation of the real thing. It was a temporary fix for a much bigger problem.

You turn off the stove and face her fully, leaning back against the counter. You let out a long breath, your eyes tracing the outline of her body.

"Don't worry about it right now," you say. "Seriously. We'll figure something out. One thing at a time. The only thing on the menu tonight is my world-famous, YouTube-certified kimchi jjigae."

She holds your gaze for a long moment, and you know this conversation isn't over. Not by a long shot. But for now, she gives a small nod, a silent truce.

—

The days bleed into a new kind of rhythm, a quiet routine built around medication schedules and careful movements. Your leave from work stretches out, and the apartment becomes your entire world. Mornings start not with a shared alarm and tangled limbs, but with the soft whir of the coffee maker and the task of preparing a breakfast tray. You carry it into the bedroom where Eunbi is already awake, propped up against a mountain of pillows, her laptop open. She’s slowly getting the hang of this forced inactivity, finding a certain peace in the long, uninterrupted hours to read or catch up on shows she’d missed.

"Morning, your highness," you say, placing the tray over her lap. Today it’s avocado toast and a perfectly peeled orange. "Your loyal servant brings offerings."

She smiles, a genuine, warm thing that still makes your chest ache. "My loyal servant is going to throw his own back out if he keeps sleeping on that goddamn couch."

"The couch and I have come to an understanding," you retort, sitting on the edge of the bed, careful not to jostle her. "Besides, you need the space. I'm a restless sleeper. I'd probably kick you in my sleep and then I'd have to kill myself out of guilt."

"You would not," she says, but she squeezes your hand. "Thank you, though. For being so careful."

You lean in and kiss her, a soft, chaste peck. It’s the new currency of your physical affection. These small, tender moments have replaced the deep, hungry kisses that used to lead to tangled sheets and bruised lips. You take care of everything. The laundry, the dishes, the grocery shopping. You learn how to navigate the narrow aisles of the supermarket with a cart full of things she likes, you learn how to clean the bathroom without waking her, you learn the precise angle to arrange the pillows on the couch for maximum comfort and minimal back pain. You don't mind it. Seeing her comfortable, seeing that small flicker of her old, bright energy return, is worth every bit of it.

Some evenings, a couple of her friends, Yena and Chaewon, come over. They bring cheap wine and gossip, spreading out on the living room floor while Eunbi holds court from the couch.

"Honestly, you're milking this," Yena says, gesturing dramatically with her wine glass. "Full-time house husband, meals on demand. You should break your other leg when this one heals."

Eunbi laughs, a real, full-throated sound that feels like a victory. "Don't tempt me. I could get used to this."

You just smile from the kitchen, refilling a bowl of chips. You play their games, listen to their stories, and for a few hours, things almost feel normal. But then they leave, and the quiet settles back in, loaded with the things you're both not saying.

—

Almost a month has passed. Twenty-seven days. You're keeping count. Twenty-seven days since you last felt the slick heat of her around you, since you last heard the noises she makes when you push her over the edge. The absence is a physical thing, a constant, low-level hum of arousal under your skin. It's become a source of torment, a ghost in the house that lingers in every room.

Tonight, it's particularly bad. Eunbi took her pain medication an hour ago and is deep asleep in the bedroom, the door left slightly ajar. The only light in the apartment is the glow of your phone screen as you lie on the couch, the lumpy cushions digging into your back. You can't sleep. Your dick is uncomfortably hard against your pajama pants, a familiar, frustrating ache.

Giving up, you clench your jaw and let your mind drift, your hand tentatively moving down your stomach. It’s become your own secret, shameful routine. You close your eyes and summon her, the highlight reel of your sex life playing on the back of your eyelids.

Your fingers wrap around your length, slick with pre-cum, and you think about the beach. That trip you took to Jeju two summers ago. The thrill of it, sneaking away from the crowded shoreline at dusk, finding a secluded cove hidden by black volcanic rocks. The scratch of sand on your ass as she rode you, her silhouette stark against the bruised purple and orange of the sunset. Her gasps lost to the sound of the crashing waves, the salty spray misting on her skin. You remember the taste of salt on her lips when you kissed her.

Your pace quickens. You think about her parents' house, at the very beginning of your relationship. Sneaking her back into her room after a late movie, convinced you were silent assassins. The sheer, terrifying thrill of fucking her in her childhood bed, the headboard bumping softly against the wall with every slow, careful thrust. You had your hand clamped over her mouth to stifle her moans, her eyes wide and shining with a mixture of fear and exhilaration in the dim light filtering through her window. The memory of that risk, that shared secret, makes you groan quietly into your pillow.

You shift on the couch, your hips starting to buck into your hand. Your mind jumps forward. The first time you fucked her ass. She’d been nervous, but curious. You remember the ridiculous amount of lube you used, the patience in your hands as you prepped her, your fingers gently working her open until she was slick and ready. You remember the feeling of her tight, virgin heat finally engulfing you, the way she’d gripped the sheets, her knuckles white, her breath hitching. The way she’d looked back at you, a look of complete and utter trust, as you moved inside her.

Your climax is building, but you need one more push. You picture the last time you came inside her, just a few days before the accident. She’d been on her hands and knees on the bed, her ass high in the air, that incredible view of her cunt, slick and swollen for you. You were pounding into her from behind, your hands gripping her hips, the sound of your bodies slapping together filling the room. You remember telling her you were close, asking her if you could, and her breathless, "Yes, please, fill me up." The memory of that hot, explosive release deep inside her, of seeing your cum leak from her as she collapsed onto the bed, panting, is what finally sends you over the edge.

A shudder wracks your body. You come with a muffled grunt, the sticky cum spreading across your stomach. For a moment, there is only relief. But it’s quickly followed by a wave of crushing emptiness. It’s not the same. Wiping yourself clean with a tissue, you pull your pants back up and lie there, staring at the ceiling, feeling more frustrated than you did before.

The next morning, you’re quiet. You go through the motions of making breakfast, of bringing her coffee, but the energy between you is off. You’re distracted, your thoughts still sticky with last night’s memories. You’re standing at the sink, staring out the window while washing the dishes, when she speaks from the couch.

"You’re stressed."

It’s not a question. It’s a statement of fact. You turn, drying your hands on a dish towel.

"I’m not stressed. Just tired."

She gives you a look that says she sees right through your bullshit. She adjusts herself on the couch, a slight wince as she moves her back.

"I can feel it," she says, insistent. "It’s like you're a guitar string that's been wound too tight. I know you miss it. Fucking hell, I miss it too. Don’t think I don’t lie in bed at night, feeling you on the couch, and just... ache. We need to do something about this. It's not good for you. For us.”

And she's right. Even when doing household chores, your body is starting to betray you, trying to express what you don't want to say with words. The bathroom is steamy and warm, the mirror already fogged over. You’ve got the routine down to a science now. You help Eunbi hobble in, her hand gripping your bicep while the other manages her crutch. You get her settled on the closed toilet seat first, then run the bath, checking the temperature with your wrist until it’s just right, adding a capful of the lavender Epsom salts the doctor recommended.

Today, she’s just in a simple cotton bra and panties, the easiest things to get off without too much movement. As you help her stand, ready to guide her over the edge of the tub, she hesitates. Her fingers tighten on your arm.

"You're soaked," she says, her eyes drifting down to the dark, damp patches on the front of your t-shirt and jeans from where you’d leaned over the tub. "You get drenched every time you do this. Just get in with me."

You shake your head, a small smile on your face. It's an old argument. "I'm fine, seriously. It's just water. It's easier for me to help you from out here anyway."

You start to move again, but her hand slides from your bicep, down your chest, down your stomach, until her fingers brush against the front of your jeans. She doesn't need to press hard. Your dick, already half-aroused from the simple, intimate act of being so close to her nearly naked body, gives a traitorous twitch. Her fingers close around the thick ridge.

"You're not fine," she murmurs. Her eyes meet yours, and they're filled with a familiar, hungry look you haven't seen in weeks. "You're hard. You're always hard when we do this, aren't you?"

A hot flush of shame creeps up your neck. "Eunbi, stop. I'm sorry, I can't help it. It's not right, getting a boner while I'm supposed to be taking care of you."

"Why isn't it right?" she challenges, her thumb stroking you through the rough denim. "I'm your girlfriend. I love that my body still does this to you, even when it's broken." She looks down at her hand on your crotch. "Let me help you. I want to."

"It's okay," you insist, voice strained. The feeling of her hand, the look in her eyes, it’s all making you ache with a desperate, painful need. "We don't have to."

"Take off your pants," she commands softly. "Help me sit back down on the toilet. Please."

Her insistence breaks through your wall of guilt. The want, the raw need from both of you, is too strong to ignore. You nod slowly. With painstaking care, you help her pivot and lower herself back onto the toilet lid. It's not a graceful movement, and you see a flicker of pain cross her face as her back twinges. Still, she settles in, looking up at you expectantly.

You quickly unbutton your jeans and push them down, along with your boxers. Your cock springs free, thick and slick with precum, throbbing in the humid air. The sight of it seems to please her. A small, wicked smile plays on her lips.

"There you are," she whispers. "Come here."

You step between her legs. The angle is awkward. She has to lean forward from the waist, her hands gripping the edges of the toilet seat for balance. You try to help, placing your hands on her shoulders, but there’s no comfortable way to do this. She takes you in her mouth, and for a glorious second, it's heaven. Her lips are soft, her tongue is wet, and the feeling is so intensely familiar it almost makes your knees buckle.

But then she groans, a low sound of pain, not pleasure. She pulls back, her face tight.

"My back," she gasps, pressing a hand to her lower spine. "Fuck. I can't... I can't bend like that."

"It's okay. It's fine. Don't push yourself, seriously."

"No," she says. She glares at your still-throbbing erection as if it’s personally offended her. "It's not fine. I'm finishing this."

Before you can protest, her hand is wrapped firmly around your shaft. She starts stroking you, her movements sure and practiced, her eyes locked on yours. She uses the skills you know so well, the ones that drive you crazy, her fingers twisting at the base while her thumb circles the head. It's intensely hot, but it’s also clinical. It's a solution to a problem, not a shared act of passion. You watch her face, see the concentration, the determination, and you know she’s feeling the same disconnect. You close your eyes, trying to focus on the pleasure, but it's impossible to ignore the context, the fluorescent lights of the bathroom, the faint smell of lavender salts, the fact that your girlfriend is giving you a handjob while wincing in pain.

You come quickly, your orgasm a tight, almost painful burst of sensation. Your body shudders, and you bite back a groan, spilling your seed onto her hand and the floor. She doesn't flinch, just keeps stroking until the last twitch subsides. Then she slowly, carefully, reaches for some toilet paper and cleans herself off, her movements stiff.

—

A few days later, you’re in the middle of folding laundry in the living room when the doorbell buzzes, loud and jarring in the afternoon quiet. You frown, not expecting anyone. You open the door to find Wonyoung standing on your doorstep, a whirlwind of vibrant energy. She’s wearing a bright yellow sundress and oversized sunglasses, her arms laden with shopping bags that look like they’ve come from every cute boutique and fancy grocer in the city.

"Hey!" she says, her voice bright and cheerful. She pushes her sunglasses up onto her head, revealing perfectly made-up eyes. "Surprise!"

"Wonyoung, hey," you say, genuinely surprised. "Wow. Come in."

You step back to let her in, taking some of the bags from her. They're heavy.

"How is she?" Wonyoung asks immediately, her smile dimming with concern as she looks around the quiet apartment. "I feel so awful. My phone was barely working in half the places I was, and I just got back into the country yesterday. I came as soon as I could. I've been texting, but it's not the same."

"It's okay, she gets it," you assure her. "She's... she's doing okay. As much as she can be. She's in the bedroom, probably binge-watching something terrible."

Wonyoung nods and heads straight for the bedroom, leaving you to place the bags on the kitchen counter. You hear her call out Eunbi's name, followed by a squeal of pure delight from the bedroom that is the happiest sound you've heard from Eunbi in a month.

You follow them and lean against the doorframe, watching. Eunbi is sitting up straighter than you've seen her in weeks, her face lit up with a joy that’s completely real. Wonyoung is perched on the edge of the bed, already chattering a mile a minute, her hands fluttering as she talks. She looks sad for a moment, her eyes tracing the line of the cast on Eunbi's leg, but she quickly masks it with her bubbly personality.

"Okay, so, since I couldn't be here to play nurse, I brought supplies," Wonyoung announces, reaching for the bags you just brought in. She starts pulling out items with the flair of a game show host. "First, from the bakery she likes, a box of those stupidly expensive macarons. Then, a stack of the trashiest romance books I could find, because you need to rest your brain as well as your body. Also, these sheet masks that are supposed to make you look like a newborn baby, a bottle of this ridiculously fancy hand cream, and... ta-da! The entire season of that dumb show which isn't available on any streaming service in this country, for some reason.”

Eunbi laughs, picking up the box of macarons. "Wony, this is too much."

"Nonsense," Wonyoung declares. "It's the bare minimum for my best friend who decided to try out for the Cirque du Soleil without me."

Eunbi smiles, and it’s a good smile, but as she looks over the pile of gifts, you see it falter. Eunbi’s gaze shifts from the pile of gifts on her bed to you, leaning in the doorway. There's a new, resolute glint in her eyes. She gives you a small, deliberate smile.

"Honey, could you be an absolute angel and make me a coffee? A proper one, from the machine. I think I need the caffeine."

She then turns her attention back to her friend.

"Wony, do you want anything? Tea? Water?"

Wonyoung shakes her head, her eyes still full of concern for Eunbi, not taking her gaze off her for a second. "No, I'm good, thanks."

"Sure," you say, happy for a task, happy to do anything that might make her feel even a little bit better. You push yourself off the doorframe. "One life-saving latte, coming right up."

You head to the kitchen, leaving them alone. You busy yourself with the familiar ritual of the espresso machine (grinding the beans, tamping the grounds, steaming the milk). The loud, mechanical noises fill the apartment, covering the low murmur of their voices from the other room.

The moment the door clicks shut, the bright, performative energy in the bedroom evaporates. Wonyoung scoots closer on the bed, her expression serious. She takes Eunbi's hand, her thumb stroking over her knuckles.

"Okay, spill. And don't you dare say you're 'fine' again. What's actually going on? How are things... with you two?"

Eunbi lets out a long, shaky breath, the one she's clearly been holding in. She squeezes Wonyoung's hand.

"He's been amazing. Honestly, Wony, he's been perfect. He does everything. He cooks, he cleans, he sleeps on that awful couch just so I have more room. He's been so fucking patient and sweet and careful... I couldn't ask for a better guy. I love him so much it hurts."

Wonyoung nods, a soft, understanding smile on her face. "I know. He's a good one. I'm so happy he's taking such good care of you." She pauses, her gaze sharpening slightly. "So if he's so perfect, what's wrong? Why did you look like you were about to cry when I showed you those stupid face masks?"

Eunbi’s shoulders slump. She looks down at their joined hands, unable to meet her friend's eyes.

"It's the sex," she whispers. "We haven't. Not properly. For almost a month. And you know me. You know what that's like for us."

Wonyoung's face softens completely. Oh. Of course. That. She knows Eunbi better than almost anyone. She knows that for Eunbi, sex isn't just sex; it's communication, it's stress relief, it's the glue. It's as necessary as breathing. And Wonyoung has seen firsthand just how high Eunbi's libido runs.

"Oh, poor girl," she murmurs sympathetically. "God, I can only imagine. That has to be so hard. For both of you."

"He's been so good about it," Eunbi continues, her voice gaining a desperate edge. "But I see it. He thinks he's hiding it, but he's so... frustrated. He's tense all the time. He gets this look on his face sometimes, when he thinks I'm not looking. I just wish there was something I could do for him, to thank him, to make him feel good. He deserves to feel good."

Wonyoung sighs, patting her hand. "It's a shitty situation, there's no way around it. But there really isn't anything you can do right now except focus on getting better. Soon enough, you'll be healed, and you two can go back to fucking like rabbits, just like always."

Eunbi is quiet for a moment. She stares at the wall, a strange, thoughtful expression on her face. Then, her eyes slowly widen. A spark ignites in their depths, an idea so sudden and brilliant it's almost visible. She turns to Wonyoung, her grip tightening. The shift in her energy is so abrupt it makes Wonyoung straighten up, a sense of unease creeping over her.

"What?" Wonyoung asks, worried. "What's that look for? That's your crazy idea face. I know that face."

"You said there's nothing I can do," Eunbi says. "But maybe there's something you can do."

Wonyoung lets out a nervous laugh, pulling her hand away. "Me? What could I possibly do to help? I can bring more macarons?"

Eunbi shakes her head, her gaze unwavering. She recaptures Wonyoung's hand, holding it tight. "I know this is going to sound insane. Completely crazy. But you're the only person in the entire world I trust enough to even ask this."

She takes a deep breath.

"I want you to have sex with him."

The words hang in the air, stunning Wonyoung into absolute silence. Her jaw goes slack. A deep, crimson blush floods her cheeks, so immediate and intense it looks painful. She snatches her hand back as if she’s been burned.

"What? Are you—Eunbi, what the fuck? No! I can't—you can't be serious."

"I've never been more serious in my life," Eunbi presses. "He's amazing in bed, Wony. You won't regret it. He's attentive, he's strong, he knows what he's doing."

Wonyoung stands up from the bed, pacing the small space between the bed and the wall. She's flustered, running a hand through her hair. "That's not the point! That is so, so not the point! He's your boyfriend!"

"And you're my best friend!" Eunbi counters. She softens her tone, trying a different tactic. "Wony, remember... back in the day? Before him. It wouldn't be the first time for us. For you and me."

The reminder hangs in the air, a ghost of drunken nights and shared beds and blurry, exploratory touches. Wonyoung stops pacing, her back to Eunbi.

"That was different," she says quietly. "That was years ago. And you were single. We were just... messing around. This is... this is your life. Your partner."

"Which is why it has to be you!" Eunbi insists, her voice pleading now. "Because I trust you. I would be so, so grateful. I can't stand seeing him like this, and I can't stand feeling so useless. Please, Wony. Do it for me. As a favor."

Wonyoung lets out a long, shaky sigh. She turns around slowly, her face a mess of conflicting emotions. She's horrified, flattered, and undeniably intrigued, all at once.

"Does... does he know about this insane plan?"

A sly, confident smile touches Eunbi's lips for the first time. "I can convince him. He'll do anything for me right now." She pats the spot on the bed next to her. "Come over for dinner. This Friday. We'll open some wine, I'll talk to him. It'll be cool. Relaxed."

Wonyoung stares at her, her mind racing. It’s a terrible idea. A catastrophic, relationship-destroying idea. But she also sees the desperate hope in her best friend's eyes. And a deeper, more selfish part of her, a part she hates to acknowledge, feels a flicker of curiosity.

"I'm going to need a lot of wine," Wonyoung finally mumbles, sinking back down onto the bed in defeat. "Like, a whole fucking case."

Eunbi giggles. She leans over and hugs Wonyoung tightly. "Thank you," she whispers into her ear. Then she pulls back, a mischievous glint in her eye. "And don't even try to pretend that a tiny part of you doesn't like the idea."

Just then, the bedroom door opens, and you walk back in, a steaming mug in your hand. You’re smiling, oblivious to the monumental, life-altering conversation that has just taken place.

"One perfectly crafted latte for the patient," you announce, handing the mug to Eunbi. "So, what were you two whispering so intensely about? Solving world peace?"

Eunbi takes the mug, her expression instantly transforming back into one of casual sweetness. She shoots a quick, warning glance at Wonyoung, who is still looking slightly shell-shocked.

"Nothing much," Eunbi says smoothly. "Just girl stuff. And by the way, Wonyoung is going to come over for dinner on Friday night. Isn't that great?"

You beam at Wonyoung. "Awesome! Yeah, that'll be great. It'll be nice to have you here."

You are completely, blissfully unaware of what you've just agreed to.

—

The aroma of baked cheese, rich tomato sauce, and garlic fills your small apartment. You pull the lasagna from the oven, its top a beautiful, bubbling mosaic of golden-brown mozzarella. You managed not to burn it. A small victory, but a victory nonetheless. You place the heavy ceramic dish on the stovetop to cool, feeling a flicker of pride.

You've spent the better part of the afternoon helping Eunbi get ready. It felt good, like a return to a different kind of normalcy. You helped her pick out a dress; a simple, black slip dress that hangs beautifully on her frame and is easy to wear even with her cast. She looks breathtaking. The simple black fabric highlights the creamy skin of her shoulders and the swell of her breasts, and the dark makeup makes her eyes look huge and luminous.

She hobbles into the kitchen on her crutches, a vision in black silk, and a real, predatory smile on her lips. She looks you up and down, and for the first time in a while, her gaze feels less like that of a patient and more like that of a lover assessing her prey.

"Everything looks amazing, baby," she says. "And you know, since you've been such a good boy, working so hard to take care of me... I have a little surprise for you tonight."

You turn from the lasagna, wiping your hands on a kitchen towel. "A surprise? What kind of surprise? Did you order me a medal for my world-class nursing skills?"

Her smile widens. "Something like that. Our good friend Wonyoung, being the absolute saint that she is, has graciously agreed to come over tonight to help you... ease some of your tension."

You let out a confused laugh. You look at her, then at the two wine glasses and the extra bottle of red wine sitting on the counter. "Okay, you're going to have to be a little clearer than that. Is she bringing a massage gun? Because my back is killing me from this couch."

Eunbi takes a slow, deliberate step closer, her crutches making a soft thud on the linoleum. She closes the small gap between you, looking directly into your eyes.

"No, baby. No massage gun. Tonight, you're going to fuck Wonyoung's tight, pink pussy."

You actually feel your brain stutter, trying to process the sentence. You almost choke on your own saliva and a wild, nervous laugh bursts out of you. It sounds unhinged even to your own ears.

"What? Eunbi, what the fuck are you talking about?"

"I'm dead serious," she says, her expression not faltering for a second. "I invited her over tonight specifically for this. She knows the deal. She's already agreed. It's my present to you. For being so patient. For being so perfect. You deserve it."

You stare at her, dumbfounded, your mind racing. This can't be real. You reach out and place a hand on her forehead as if checking for a fever. "Babe, are you okay? Is it the painkillers? Are you hallucinating? We are not doing this. This is insane."

You try to pull away, to put some distance between you and this crazy idea, but she grabs your wrist, her grip surprisingly strong.

"I am perfectly fine," she says leaving no room for argument. "And you don't need to be afraid. This was my idea. I asked her. I want you to feel good. And besides," she adds. "I want it too. I want to watch."

She lets go of your wrist and her hand travels down, brazenly cupping you through your jeans. Your cock gives a powerful, involuntary throb at her touch, a complete betrayal by your own body. She smirks, feeling the thick, hard length of you.

"See? Your body isn't arguing," she whispers. "I can't participate, not really. But I can sit in my favorite armchair, and I can touch myself while I watch you take her apart. While I watch you fuck my best friend right in front of me."

You're uncomfortably hard now, the pressure in your pants almost painful.

"Eunbi..." you manage to say. "We can't. What if this makes everything weird? She's your best friend."

"She is," Eunbi agrees, her fingers idly tracing the prominent ridge of your erection. "And she's beautiful, isn't she? So hot. And just as naughty as me, even if she hides it better. You have no idea the things we used to talk about." She leans in closer, her warm breath ghosting across your ear. "She’s not doing this because she feels pressured. She’s doing this because the idea of it gets her wet, too."

You're losing this battle. Every logical argument in your head is being systematically dismantled by the raw, carnal need she's stoking. You look down into her eyes, searching for any hint of doubt, any flicker of uncertainty. You find none. Only a dark, swirling pool of desire and determination.

"Are you absolutely, one-hundred-percent sure about this?" you ask. "If there is any part of you that—"

She cuts you off by surging up and crushing her mouth to yours. It’s not a gentle kiss. It’s hungry, demanding, a kiss of ownership. Her tongue plunges into your mouth, and she bites down hard on your lower lip, drawing a faint, metallic taste of blood. The small sting of pain is incredibly grounding, incredibly arousing. She pulls back, leaving you breathless.

"Yes," she says. "I am sure. Now listen to me. This night is for you. Your only job is to feel good. Your only obligation is to cum as much as you can and to make Wonyoung scream so loud the neighbors complain. And don't be gentle. She likes to be treated harshly. She likes to be reminded who's in charge. Pin her down. Pull her hair. Fuck her like you're trying to break her. Do you understand?"

Before you can even form a response, the sharp, clear sound of the doorbell chimes through the apartment.

Eunbi’s lips curve into a slow, wicked smile. She gives your crotch one last, firm squeeze.

"Speak of the devil," she purrs, her eyes locked on yours. "Your sex doll has arrived."

Holy fuck. The way she says it, the casual cruelty and possessiveness in her tone, sends a final, decisive shockwave through your system, obliterating any remaining shred of protest. You are no longer just shocked or confused. You are electrified.

Your heart races faster and faster as you approach the door. You take a deep, steadying breath and pull the front door open.

Wonyoung is standing there, bathed in the warm, yellow light of the porch lamp. She looks incredible, and your brain short-circuits for a second. She’s wearing a simple, elegant navy blue slip dress. The silky fabric drapes over her body, hinting at the curves beneath without revealing anything. Her long, dark hair is down, sleek and shining, and she’s wearing a touch more makeup than usual, her lips a shade of deep, berry red. She’s clutching a bottle of expensive-looking red wine in one hand and her purse in the other, and you can see the tension in her knuckles. Her smile is bright, but it doesn't quite reach her eyes.

"Hey," she says, a little breathless. "Am I late?"

"No, you're perfectly on time," you manage to say. You step back. "Come on in."

She steps over the threshold. An awkward silence hangs between you for a beat too long before you close the door.

"Eunbi's at the table," you say, gesturing towards the small dining area. "Can I take that for you?" You motion towards the wine.

"Oh, yeah. Thanks."

You take the bottle, your fingers brushing against hers. Her eyes dart away. You head to the kitchen to grab a corkscrew, your mind a chaotic mess of Eunbi's words and Wonyoung's perfume.

When you get back to the dining table, Eunbi is already holding court, laughing at something Wonyoung said. Wonyoung looks more relaxed in her presence, the nervous energy having subsided slightly. You pour generous glasses of the wine for all three of you. You serve the lasagna, the conversation starting with the usual, safe pleasantries.

"This is actually really good," Wonyoung says after her first bite, sounding genuinely surprised.

"Don't sound so shocked," you joke, though it comes out a little stiff. "My talents extend beyond burning toast."

"He's been watching a lot of YouTube tutorials," Eunbi adds. "He's in his domestic era. It's very sexy."

Wonyoung just hums in agreement, taking a large gulp of her wine. The conversation drifts. You talk about Wonyoung's trip to Thailand, about a new series Eunbi has been binge-watching, about a stupid project at your work. It's a fragile performance of normalcy. You and Wonyoung are carefully skirting around the giant, throbbing elephant in the room, while Eunbi seems to be riding it, a queen on her throne, thoroughly enjoying the spectacle. She keeps refilling Wonyoung’s glass, her movements casual, but you know it’s deliberate.

The wine is definitely taking effect. The tightness in your shoulders begins to loosen, and Wonyoung's laughter is less forced, her posture more relaxed. The flush on her cheeks is from more than just the heat of the lasagna. Everything is going smoothly. Too smoothly.

That's when Eunbi makes her first move. She sets her fork down, a thoughtful expression on her face as she studies Wonyoung.

"You know," she starts, "I think you gained a little weight since I saw you last. In a good way. You look fantastic. Your hips look fuller. Right, honey?"

Wonyoung freezes mid-chew, her eyes wide. You feel your own face flush. Your gaze, against your will, drifts over Wonyoung's body, really looking this time. Eunbi is right. The dress clings to a slightly softer, curvier frame than you remember. Her hips have a new, womanly swell, and her breasts seem to press more insistently against the delicate fabric of her dress. She looks healthy, fertile, incredible.

"Uh," you stammer, your mouth suddenly dry. You clear your throat. "Yeah. You look... you look beautiful, Wonyoung. As always."

It's a clumsy, safe answer, but it seems to satisfy Eunbi. Wonyoung gives a tight, embarrassed smile and mumbles a thank you into her wine glass, draining the rest of it. You quickly reach over and refill it for her.

Eunbi lets the silence sit for a moment before she leans forward, her elbows on the table, her expression turning conspiratorial.

"So," she says. "What color lingerie are you wearing under that pretty dress?"

This time, the silence is deafening. Wonyoung chokes on a sip of wine, coughing into her napkin. You just stare at your plate, wishing the floor would swallow you whole. This is so far beyond normal dinner conversation.

"Eunbi!" Wonyoung whispers, her face a shade of deep crimson.

"What? I'm just curious," Eunbi says, all innocence. "We used to tell each other everything. Don't be shy."

Wonyoung looks trapped. She won't look at you. She stares at her plate, at her wine glass, anywhere but at you or Eunbi. She takes another long moment, another deep breath.

"...Black," she finally whispers.

Eunbi smiles, a slow, deeply satisfied smile. "Of course it is." She looks at you. "Black is my favorite color on her. So, tell me. Did you wear it for a special reason? Or was it just a coincidence? Sometimes a girl just feels like wearing her best set, you know? Just in case.”

Wonyoung looks like a student who’s been called on in class without knowing the answer. Her eyes are wide, her mouth opens and closes a few times before any sound comes out.

“I—uh.” She pushes a piece of stray lasagna around her plate with her fork, avoiding everyone’s gaze. “It was just… It was clean. I just grabbed it.”

It’s the lamest excuse you’ve ever heard, and from the look on Eunbi’s face, she knows it too. But she lets it slide, for now. Eunbi leans back in her chair, taking in the spectacle she’s created.

“Well, whatever the reason, I’m sure it’s lovely.” She dismisses the topic with a wave of her hand, but the damage is done. The fragile wall of normalcy has been bulldozed. She turns her gaze to you, and it’s filled with such warmth and adoration it feels almost performative.

“This one here,” she says, reaching out to pat your forearm. “He’s been an absolute saint, hasn’t he, Wony? A full-on, professional-grade nurse.”

Wonyoung nods quickly, seizing the opportunity to talk about something - anything - else.

“Totally. He’s been amazing. You’re so lucky, Unnie.”

“I really am,” Eunbi agrees, her fingers tracing a light pattern on your arm that sends a shiver through you. “He does everything. Cooks, cleans, puts up with me when I’m grumpy from the pain meds. He even carried me to the bath every single day for a month. All that heavy lifting... he must be exhausted.”

Her eyes drift over your shoulders and chest with a pointed, appraising look.

“All that physical exertion,” she continues, her tone turning thoughtful. “It builds up a lot of… tension. Don’t you think? It’s not healthy to just let that sit in your system. It needs an outlet. A proper release.”

“It’s fine. I’ve been channeling it into my world-class lasagna-making skills.”

Eunbi just smiles, completely ignoring you. Her focus is entirely on Wonyoung.

“He’s being modest. I see it. He thinks he’s hiding it, but I can feel it whenever he’s near. He’s like a tightly wound spring. It’s my fault, really. I’m the one who broke myself.” She sighs dramatically, pressing a hand to her chest. “And his needs have been… neglected. It’s just biology, isn’t it? A healthy man needs a certain amount of physical affection to function properly. It’s like vitamins, or water.”

Her clinical, matter-of-fact delivery is so much more devastating than if she’d been seductive. She’s presenting this entire, insane situation as a logical solution to a health problem.

“And I just hate to see him suffering,” she finishes. “It’s been a month, Wony. A whole month. Can you imagine?”

Wonyoung, who has been staring intently at her plate this whole time, finally looks up. Her face is flushed, her eyes are wide, and she looks at you with a new, complicated expression. She knows exactly what Eunbi is asking. And she knows there's only one right answer.

“No,” Wonyoung says. “No, I can’t.”

“See?” Eunbi says as she looks at you. “I knew she would get it. She’s always been the most understanding person I know. So selfless.”

Wonyoung flushes an even deeper shade of red at the praise, mumbling something into her wine glass that sounds like, “It’s nothing.”

“It’s not nothing, it’s everything,” Eunbi insists, her happiness infectious. “It’s about taking care of each other. All of us.” She takes a sip of wine. “You know,” Eunbi says to you, though her gaze is fixed on her friend. “You have to be careful with this one. Don’t let the sweet face fool you. She looks like a perfect little doll, doesn’t she? All polite and proper. But she’s secretly a monster,” Eunbi declares with a dramatic flair. “A complete and total freak. She likes things… intense.”

Wonyoung’s head snaps up, her eyes wide with horror. “Eunbi, what are you doing? Stop it!”

“I’m just telling him the truth!” Eunbi laughs. “He needs to be prepared. This one,” she points her fork at a mortified Wonyoung, “likes it rough. She likes to be manhandled a little. Thrown around. Don’t you, Wony?”

“That is not true!” Wonyoung protests, though her denial is weak, undermined by the crimson blush that now covers her entire chest.

“Oh, please,” Eunbi scoffs. “Don’t lie to your future… well, you know. I’m just giving him fair warning. Don’t be too gentle, baby. She’ll act all shocked and shy, but she secretly loves a firm hand. A little hair pulling. Being pinned down. It makes her feel safe.”

“You’re making that up!” Wonyoung insists. “God, this is so embarrassing.”

“Am I?” Eunbi challenges. She leans forward. “Or am I just reminding you of who you really are? I’m just trying to give him a proper user manual. For example,” she says, turning to you, “I should tell you about the boy she dated for two months our freshman year.”

“Oh my god, do not,” Wonyoung pleads, burying her face in her hands. “Please, Eunbi, I’m begging you.”

Eunbi completely ignores her. “He was this terrible cliché. Rode a motorcycle that was always backfiring, smelled like stale cigarettes and cheap leather, had a truly awful dragon tattoo on his forearm. We all hated him. But Wonyoung? She was obsessed.”

She takes a dramatic sip of wine, letting the suspense build.

“She’d sneak him into the dorms, and she thought she was being so quiet. But our walls were paper-thin. We could hear… things.” Eunbi smirks. “Bumps against the headboard. Little muffled squeals. And she’d come back to our room the next morning looking like a storm-tossed angel, all blissed-out and exhausted. And covered in these little bruises on her hips and inner thighs.”

“I’m clumsy!” Wonyoung cries out from behind her hands, her voice thick with mortification.

“Yes, a very specific kind of clumsy that only happened after she saw him!” Eunbi retorts with a laugh. “She’d always have some excuse. ‘Oh, I fell down the library stairs again.’ Or ‘I walked into a door!’ It was always a door. A very oddly shaped door, apparently, with five distinct knuckles.”

You can’t help it. You look at Wonyoung, who is peeking at you through her fingers, her face the color of a ripe cherry. The image Eunbi is painting is so vivid, so contrary to the demure woman sitting across from you, that it feels like your brain is being rewired. And so you just remain silent, there’s not a minimally normal thing you can say in the middle of all this, but your mind is noisy with all the information your girlfriend is exposing about her best friend.

“The point is,” Eunbi says as she looks at her friend with genuine affection. “You’ve always liked a man who isn’t afraid to take charge. Who can be a little bit of a monster. You just like to pretend you don’t.”

Wonyoung slowly lowers her hands. She stares at her plate, her fight completely gone. She pushes a single olive around with her fork for what feels like an eternity.

Finally, she lets out a tiny, resigned sigh.

“...Maybe,” she whispers. “Sometimes. A little.”

Eunbi claps her hands together softly, a single, triumphant sound. “Aha! The truth comes out! I knew it!”

She beams, looking from Wonyoung’s defeated, blushing face to your stunned one. Her eyes roam over you, appraisingly, like she’s matching a fine wine with the perfect meal.

“Well, in that case,” she says, “I think he is going to serve you very, very well tonight.”

There’s no hiding behind subtext anymore; it’s all out in the open.

“He’s got that same streak in him, you know,” Eunbi continues, as if discussing your merits at a job interview. “He’s mostly a perfect gentleman, a total sweetheart… but when he gets that look in his eye? He can be very firm. He has very strong hands.”

Her gaze drops meaningfully to your hands, which are resting on the table. Wonyoung’s eyes follow hers, and you feel as if your skin is burning under their combined scrutiny.

“He’ll know exactly what to do with a girl like you,” Eunbi concludes with an air of finality.

After that, conversation dies. What else is there to say? The rest of dinner passes in a thick, charged silence, it boils down to tension and wine (lots of wine). When the plates are empty and the bottle is nearly gone, Eunbi claps her hands together softly, as if calling a meeting to order.

"Well," she announces to the room. “The house is a little too quiet for my taste, don't you think? Let's make some noise.”

She turns to you. "Baby, be a doll and help me to the bedroom. My back is starting to get stiff." She then fixes her gaze on a very tipsy-looking Wonyoung. "Wony, you come too."

Wonyoung’s eyes widen in a mild panic. "Now? We're... we're going to do this now?"

"Yes, now," Eunbi says firmly, a hint of amusement in her voice. "Before you finish that entire bottle of wine and pass out. I need you awake for this."

"Sorry," Wonyoung mumbles, looking down at the table. "I'm just... I'm a little nervous."

You stand up, your chair scraping against the floor. The sound is unnaturally loud. You gather the plates, your movements stiff and robotic, and carry them to the kitchen. You place them in the sink, the clatter of ceramic on steel echoing in your head. You're just stalling. You turn back around. Eunbi is watching you, waiting patiently.

You walk over to Eunbi and help her to her feet, her arm looping around your neck for support. She leans her weight against you.

The time has come.

The walk to the bedroom is the longest ten yards of your life. Every sound is amplified: the soft thud of Eunbi’s crutches, the delicate click-clack of Wonyoung's heels on the hardwood floor behind you, the frantic pounding of your own heart. You can feel Wonyoung’s presence behind you, a ghost of perfume and nervous energy.

You guide Eunbi into the master bedroom. It’s your shared space, a sanctuary that suddenly feels like a stage. You lead her to the plush, oversized armchair in the corner, the one she loves to curl up in and read. It’s positioned perfectly, with a clear view of the entire room, especially the bed. You help her lower herself into it, her movements slow and careful. Once she’s settled, she looks up at you.

"Help me with my dress, honey."

You nod, your throat too tight to speak. You kneel in front of her, your fingers finding the tiny, delicate zipper on the side of her black slip dress. You pull it down slowly, the sound deafening in the quiet room. You peel the silk fabric down her body, over her shoulders, her arms, her torso. The dress pools around her waist, revealing her full, heavy breasts, the pale skin of her stomach, and the smooth, shaved skin between her legs. She’s wearing absolutely nothing underneath.

She sighs, a sound of deep satisfaction, and leans her head back against the chair. She gestures vaguely towards the two of you, a queen giving a royal decree.

"The show can begin."

You rise slowly to your feet and turn to face Wonyoung, who has been standing awkwardly by the door, watching the entire exchange with wide, unblinking eyes. You have to give her one last out. You have to.

"Wonyoung," you say. "Are you absolutely, one-hundred-percent sure about this? You don't have to. We can just... call it a night."

She swallows hard, her gaze flickering from you to Eunbi, then back to you. The wine has given her a courage that feels both real and fragile.

"Yes," she says. "I'm sure. I think we should just... get started. Before this gets any weirder than it already is."

You nod, accepting her answer. You close the distance between you in two long strides. Up close, she smells of wine and flowers. Your eyes do a quick, involuntary inventory. She’s so different from Eunbi. Taller, leaner, her body a collection of long lines and elegant angles. Her breasts are smaller, tighter, fitting the frame of a model. She’s exquisite, but in a completely different way.

"Don't just stand there staring at each other," Eunbi's voice cuts through the tension from the armchair. "You two don't need to be so shy. Put your hand on her waist," she commands you. "Just like you do with me."

You lift your hand, hesitating for a fraction of a second before placing it on Wonyoung's waist. The silk of her dress is cool and smooth beneath your palm. You feel the lean muscle of her side, the sharp curve of her hip bone. She draws in a sharp breath at your touch.

You lean in and kiss her. Her lips are softer than you imagined, plump and coated in a sweet, fruity gloss. It’s a tentative kiss at first, a gentle exploration. Then you feel her respond, her own lips parting slightly. Her hands, which had been hanging limply at her sides, come up to rest on your chest. Her fingers begin to fumble with the buttons of your shirt, her movements unsure at first, then growing more confident. One button, then two, then three, until your shirt is open, exposing your skin to the cool air.

Her hand slides from your chest, down your stomach, stopping at the waistband of your jeans. She hooks her thumb in, her fingers pressing against the thick, hard ridge of your erection. Damn, she doesn't waste time.

"He's already hard, isn't he?" Eunbi asks from her throne, a smug, satisfied tone in her voice.

Wonyoung lets out a soft, breathy moan, a sound of confirmation that is pure fuel on the fire. "Yes," she whispers against your lips. "He's very hard."

"Then take off your pants for her," Eunbi directs you.

Breaking the kiss, you quickly toe off your shoes and unbutton your jeans, pushing them and your boxers down your legs in one messy motion. You kick them aside. Wonyoung watches you, her eyes wide, a blush high on her cheeks. She kicks off her own heels, the sound of them hitting the floor punctuating the moment. Her hands go to the zipper on the back of her dress. With one smooth pull, the navy silk falls from her body, pooling at her feet. She stands before you in nothing but a set of exquisite black lace lingerie. A delicate, strappy bra and matching panties cut high on her hips.

"Now that's better," Eunbi purrs. "You two look so hot like this." She pauses, letting the moment last. "Wonyoung, darling. Show me what that pretty mouth of yours can do."

Something shifts in Wonyoung. The last of her nervousness seems to evaporate, replaced by a sultry, alcohol-fueled confidence. She looks from Eunbi to you, a wicked little smirk playing on her lips. She places her hands on your bare chest and pushes you firmly, urging you backwards until the backs of your knees hit the edge of the bed and you sit down on the mattress.

She kneels between your legs, her eyes locked on your exposed, throbbing cock. She reaches out and pulls down the last of your boxers, freeing you completely. The head of your dick is already beaded with precum, shining under the bedroom lights. Her eyes widen slightly, genuinely impressed.

She looks up at you from under her long lashes, then glances over at Eunbi.

"Jesus," Wonyoung says. "How do you even fit all of this inside her tiny body?”

You look from her upturned, beautiful face to Eunbi, who is watching from the armchair with an expression of pure, unadulterated satisfaction.

"Magic, sweetheart," you say. "Pure fucking magic. But I think you're about to find out for yourself."

Eunbi laughs from her chair, a throaty, delighted sound. "That's right, she is. Showtime."

Wonyoung seems to take that as her cue. She leans forward, her long, dark hair curtaining her face, and her pink tongue darts out. She slowly, deliberately, licks the bead of precum from the tip of your cock. Her eyes are locked on yours as she does it. The sensation is electric, a hot, wet swipe that makes your hips buck involuntarily.

"Fuck," you breathe out, your fingers digging into the bedsheets.

She hums, a low, pleased sound, clearly enjoying the taste of you. Then, she lowers her head and takes the head of your cock into her mouth. Her lips are incredibly soft, and she closes them around you with a gentle pressure, sucking lightly. It’s a tentative start, a testing of the waters, but it feels incredible.

"That's a nice start," Eunbi's voice cuts in, calm and directorial. "But you're being too polite. He doesn't like polite. Don't be afraid of it, Wony. Take more of him. He can handle it, I promise."

Wonyoung looks over at Eunbi, a flicker of her earlier nervousness returning. She seems to be seeking confirmation. Eunbi just gives her a slow, encouraging nod. Wonyoung turns back to you, takes a deeper breath, and slides her mouth further down your shaft.

Your breath hitches in your throat. "Oh, fuck... yes. Just like that."

She takes a good few inches, her mouth hot and wet, and the pressure is intense. She starts to move her head, a slow, steady bob that is immediately effective. You lean your head back, your eyes closing as you focus on the feeling.

"See? You're a natural," Eunbi says with approval. "Now, use your hand. He loves it when you use your hand at the same time. Hold him firmly at the base. Yeah, right there. You have to work the whole thing, not just the part in your mouth."

You feel Wonyoung's hand, cool at first, wrap around the base of your shaft. She starts stroking you in time with the movement of her head, her palm sliding up and down your length while her mouth works the top. The combination is devastating. A low groan escapes your lips, and you look over at Eunbi.

She's watching the two of you with a ravenous hunger. Her legs are parted slightly, and you see her hand slip down from her lap, her fingers disappearing inside her pussy. Her eyes are glazed over, her lips slightly parted as she begins to touch herself, her own breathing growing heavier.

"That's it, Wony, you're getting it," Eunbi murmurs, a little strained. "Now try to take him all the way to the back of your throat. Let him hit the back of it. He loves that feeling."

Wonyoung hesitates for a second, then seems to steel herself. She pulls back for a moment, takes another deep breath, and then surges forward, taking you deeper than you thought possible. You feel the distinct pressure as the head of your cock bumps against the soft tissue at the back of her throat. She gags for a fraction of a second, her eyes watering, but she doesn't pull away. Instead, she does it again.

"Holy fuck, Wonyoung," you gasp out, your hips thrusting up to meet her mouth. "Yes. God, yes."

You reach down, your hands tangling in her silky hair. You’re not rough, just holding her, guiding her, your fingers flexing with every incredible sensation.

"Look at her, baby," you say, your eyes locked on Eunbi. "Look at what you're making your best friend do for me. She's so fucking good at this."

Eunbi lets out a loud, wet moan as her fingers move faster against her clit. "She's a fast learner, isn't she? I knew she would be." She shifts in her chair, getting a better angle. "Okay, Wony, new trick. Swirl your tongue around the head every time you pull back. Drive him crazy."

Wonyoung obeys instantly, her confidence clearly soaring with every word of praise. As her mouth slides off the head of your cock, her tongue darts out, licking and swirling in a wet, circular motion before she takes you deep again. It's a new, maddening sensation, a sharp, specific pleasure that contrasts with the deep, throbbing pressure of her throat.

"Perfect, Wonyoung. Fucking perfect," Eunbi's voice cuts through your haze. She's breathing heavily from her armchair, and you can hear the faint, wet sounds of her fingers moving against herself. "But you're forgetting a key part of the meal. Get down there and take care of his balls for me. I want you to suck on them, get them nice and drooly. I want to see them shining when you're done."

Wonyoung doesn't even hesitate. She immediately releases your shaft and lowers her head further, her silky hair brushing against your inner thighs. She takes one of your balls into the hot, wet cavern of her mouth, her tongue immediately flicking and swirling against the sensitive skin. A jolt, completely different from the sensations on your shaft, shoots through you, making you arch your back off the bed.

"Oh, holy fuck," you groan, your eyes rolling back in your head.

You’re in absolute heaven. Fuck, you’ve been dying for this, aching for it for weeks. The simple, primal feeling of a warm mouth on you, the complete surrender to pleasure. You’d forgotten how good this specific part felt, the gentle, pulling suction, the thorough, worshipful attention. Wonyoung is methodical, taking one ball fully into her mouth, then the other, laving them with her tongue until they're slick and heavy.

Eunbi lets out a low, satisfied sigh from across the room. She can see the bliss on your face, the way your body is completely undone by this simple act.

"Look at your face," she says with love, even amidst the depravity. "You're completely gone for her, aren't you? Are you enjoying the present I got for you, baby?"

You manage to open your eyes, your gaze finding hers. She looks feral and beautiful, flushed with arousal, her hand still working between her legs. You're overwhelmed with a sudden, powerful wave of love for her, for her mind, for her trust, for this insane, perfect gift.

"Enjoying it?" you choke out, a humorless laugh escaping you. "Eunbi... fuck, I'm... this is the best thing ever. Thank you. Seriously, thank you for planning this, for trusting me." You take a ragged breath. "I love you so fucking much."

A genuine, radiant smile breaks across her face. "I love you too, baby. So, so much. And I am also loving watching this. Seeing you feel this good, seeing her make you feel this good... it's making me so wet."

As if on cue, Wonyoung finishes her work on your balls and moves back up, resuming her incredible assault on your cock. She alternates now, her mouth sliding up and down your shaft, then dipping down to give your balls another lick, her hand never ceasing its steady, rhythmic stroking. She’s not just following directions anymore. She's improvising. She's enjoying this, you can feel it in her touch, in the eager, hungry way her mouth works on you.

The pleasure is building, coiling in your gut, tighter and hotter this time. Your hips are starting to move on their own, a slow, hypnotic bucking motion to meet her mouth. Eunbi notices immediately.

"Okay," she says, voice suddenly rougher, more demanding. "Look at him, Wony. He's so close. His hips are starting to buck. It's time to take it to the next level." She leans forward in her chair. "I want you to let him fuck your pretty face. I want him to use your mouth like it's a tight little pussy for him to pound into. He needs to release some of that energy."

Wonyoung seems to feel the shift in energy. She slows her movements, pulling her mouth off your cock with a wet, sucking sound. She looks up at you, her eyes wide and glazed with pure lust, her lips red and swollen, a string of saliva connecting them to the head of your dick. The perfect picture of a debauched angel. The nervousness is a distant memory, replaced entirely by need.

"Please?" she whispers. "Can you? I want you to. Fuck my throat. Please, use my mouth."

Eunbi lets out a sharp, delighted gasp from her chair. "Listen to her," she says with a dark, triumphant pride. "Already begging for it. Such a filthy little slut for you. Don't keep her waiting.”

The last shred of restraint you were clinging to evaporates. This is happening. You are going to give her exactly what she’s begging for.

"Is that what you want?" you ask. You look from Wonyoung's flushed, expectant face to Eunbi, who is practically vibrating with excitement in her armchair. You then look back down at Wonyoung. "You want me to use your pretty mouth?"

She can't speak, but she gives a frantic, desperate nod.

That’s all the confirmation you need. You reach down and tangle your fingers in her long, silky hair, gathering a thick handful at the back of her head. You tug sharply, not to hurt her, but to establish control, to tilt her head back and expose the long, elegant line of her throat. She whimpers at the gesture, a sound that is equal parts pain and pleasure.

"Good girl," you murmur. "Open wide for me, then."

She obeys instantly, her jaw going slack, her mouth opening as wide as she can manage. You position the thick, slick head of your cock at her lips and, without any further warning, you thrust forward.

The first push is hard and deep. You bypass her tongue entirely, plunging straight to the back of her throat. Her body convulses. A choked, gagging sound escapes her, and her eyes water instantly, tears beginning to spill down her temples. Her hands fly up to grip your thighs, her nails digging into your skin, but she doesn’t push you away. If anything, she tries to accommodate you, her throat muscles working, trying to take you deeper.

"Yes! Fuck, yes, just like that!" Eunbi cries out from her chair. "Pound her throat, baby! Don't be gentle. Make her take all of you. Forget she needs to breathe. She’s your toy now, your personal little fleshlight. Use her!"

You pull back until just the tip of your cock is between her lips and then slam forward again, a brutal, punishing rhythm. You set a relentless pace, fucking her mouth with the same mindless intensity you’d fuck her pussy. Each thrust pushes her head back, her body jolting with the force of it. Saliva and tears mix, dribbling from the corners of her mouth and down her chin. It’s a messy, chaotic, beautiful sight.

"Look at her, Eunbi," you pant, your eyes locked on your girlfriend, even as your hips continue their savage rhythm. "She takes it so well. This pretty little face was made to be fucked."

"She loves it," Eunbi agrees as she continues to pleasure herself. "Look at the tears in her eyes. Those aren't from pain, are they, Wony? You love feeling him choke you with his cock, don't you?"

Wonyoung can only let out a series of muffled, guttural moans and gags in response, which seems to be answer enough.

You look back at your handiwork, at the beautiful girl you have completely undone. Her perfect makeup is a disaster, her mascara starting to run, her lipstick long gone, her face flushed a deep, rosy red. And through it all, her eyes, though streaming with tears, are fixed on you with a look of pure, blissful adoration. This is what she wanted. This degradation is her pleasure.

You pull out of her mouth completely, the sound a wet, obscene noise. She collapses forward, gasping and coughing, desperately sucking in air. A thick string of your spit and her saliva connects your cock to her chin. She doesn’t wipe it away. After a few deep, ragged breaths, she looks up at you, her expression dazed but hungry.

"More," she rasps. "Please... don't stop."

You look over at Eunbi.

"Don't you worry, baby," you say. "I'm not stopping until I've completely ruined her pretty face for you. She won't be able to think straight for a week when I'm done with her."

Without another word, you grab her hair again, more forcefully this time, and slam your cock back into her waiting, wanting mouth. You fuck her face with a renewed, animalistic vigor, your hips a blur, your only focus the incredible friction of her throat and the filthy, encouraging moans coming from the woman you love as she watches the entire, sordid spectacle.

You follow through on your promise immediately. Your grip on Wonyoung's hair tightens, and you begin to fuck her face with a relentless, punishing rhythm. There's no tenderness left, no gentle exploration. This is pure, selfish, animalistic pleasure. You are using her, and all three of you are reveling in it. Your hips slam forward again and again, your cock plunging deep into her throat, forcing guttural, gagging sounds from her with every brutal thrust.

"That's it," you pant, your eyes locked on Eunbi, who is watching with a feverish intensity, her own body writhing in her armchair. "I'm breaking her for you, baby. Look how she takes it. She was made for this."

"Yes!" Eunbi cries out. "Punish her throat! Don't give her a second to breathe. I want to see you own her completely! Fuck my best friend's face until she forgets her own name!"

Your thrusts become even more frantic. You pull out for a second, just to watch Wonyoung gasp for a breath, her chest heaving, before you ram back in, cutting her off. Her tears are flowing freely now, mingling with the saliva and spit that coats her chin and your shaft. She’s a beautiful, debauched wreck, and the sight of her, so utterly undone for you, for your pleasure, is pushing you closer and closer to the edge.

You use your free hand to grip her jaw, holding her steady as you fuck her mouth from a different angle, your hips rolling as you grind against her tongue, her teeth.

"You love being our little fuck toy, don't you?" you spit out. "You love being used like this. Open your eyes. I want you to look at me while I destroy your throat."

Her eyelids flutter open. Through the tears, her gaze is hazy, dazed, but she obeys. She looks at you with an expression of such complete and total submission it nearly makes you come right then and there. This is what she wanted. To be pushed past her limits, to be treated like an object, to be utterly degraded for the pleasure of her best friend and her boyfriend.

"I'm so close, baby," Eunbi gasps from her chair, her own orgasm clearly imminent. "Keep going! Don't you dare stop! Fill her up for me! I want to see it!"

Her desperation is the final push you need. The feeling that has been coiling in your balls for weeks, a hot, aching pressure, finally breaks free. It’s an unstoppable tidal wave of sensation, a pleasure so intense it’s almost painful.

"Get ready," you roar. You grip her head with both hands now, holding her completely immobile. "I'm going to fill your fucking throat. You are going to swallow every last drop for me. Every. Fucking. Drop. You swallow it for her."

Your body convulses as the first powerful wave of your orgasm hits. You shout out, a loud, wordless cry of pure ecstasy, as you pump your hot, thick seed deep down her throat. It’s been so long, the release is overwhelming. It feels endless. Wave after wave of hot cum floods her, your hips continuing their frantic, shuddering thrusts until you are completely and utterly drained.

You hold her there for a long moment, even after the last pulse has subsided, ensuring she has no choice but to take it all. Finally, you pull out, your now-soft cock sliding from her lips with a wet slickness.

Wonyoung collapses forward on the floor, her body trembling violently. She’s a mess of spit, tears, and cum. She chokes, her throat working convulsively as she struggles to swallow the massive load you shot into her. Her whole body shudders with the effort, a series of violent coughs and gags, but she does it. She swallows. She lies there on the carpet, panting, her chest heaving, completely and utterly spent. Her face is ruined, just as you promised.

Across the room, Eunbi lets out a long, shuddering moan as her own orgasm finally crashes over her, her body going rigid in the armchair before she slumps back, completely satisfied. A beat of silence passes, filled only with the sound of Wonyoung’s ragged, wet-sounding breaths.

Then, Eunbi’s voice, hoarse and dripping with satisfaction, cuts through the quiet.

"Wony," she says, a soft, possessive command. "Come here, baby girl."

With a visible, monumental effort, Wonyoung pushes herself up. She’s shaky, her limbs weak. She crawls the few feet across the floor to Eunbi's armchair, collapsing at her feet like a loyal, exhausted pet.

Eunbi reaches down, her hand gentle as she tangles it in Wonyoung's messy hair. She tilts her head up, a tender smile on her face.

"You were so good," Eunbi whispers. "So good for us."

And then, she asks Wonyoung to come closer, until their faces are inches apart. Wony obeys without hesitation and she rewards her with a kiss, deep and full of tenderness, like in the old days, her tongue plunging into Wonyoung's mouth. It’s not a kiss of romance, but of ownership, of shared experience. She is tasting you, tasting your release, directly from the throat that just held you. She’s tasting the fruits of her perfectly executed, beautifully filthy plan, and as she pulls away, a string of saliva connecting their lips, you see the same look of triumphant satisfaction on both of their faces. Wonyoung slowly pushes herself into a sitting position on the floor, her body still trembling, her eyes dazed and unfocused. She looks at you, a slow, genuine smile spreading across her swollen lips.

"That was..." she starts. "That was amazing. You were amazing."

A wave of tenderness, a stark contrast to the brutal lust of a moment ago, washes over you. You grab a handful of tissues from the nightstand and kneel in front of her. "Here," you murmur. You begin to carefully wipe her face, cleaning away the streaks of mascara, the saliva, the faint stickiness of your release. You are as delicate now as you were violent before.

"Are you okay?" you ask, your eyes searching hers for any sign of genuine distress.

She leans into your touch, a soft, contented sigh escaping her. "Yeah," she rasps, swallowing hard. "I'm okay. Just... a little bit of a sore throat."

"I'll make you some tea with honey later," you promise, tucking a stray strand of her damp hair behind her ear.

"See?" Eunbi's voice, smug and satisfied, drifts from the armchair. "That's what I love about him. He'll completely destroy you, treat you like you're nothing... and then he'll patch you up and take care of you with so much love it makes your heart ache."

Wonyoung looks from you to Eunbi, a knowing look in her eyes. "It's a dangerous combination."

"The most dangerous," Eunbi agrees, her gaze fixed on you with an unnerving intensity. "It's why I'm so completely in love with him. He's a monster and a saint all wrapped up in one perfect package."

"You chose well," Wonyoung says softly, her eyes fluttering shut for a moment as you finish cleaning her face.

"I know," Eunbi says. "And speaking of how well he destroys things... Baby, look closer. You think the show is over? Look at what you did to her."

Your gaze follows hers, dropping from Wonyoung’s face down her body. Your breath catches. The delicate black lace of her panties is soaked through, a dark, glistening patch at the juncture of her thighs. Her inner thighs are slick with her own juices, a clear, pearlescent wetness that testifies to just how turned on she was by the entire ordeal. She got off on the degradation, on being used, on watching you please Eunbi.

Without a word, you slide your arms under her, one behind her back and the other under her knees, and lift her from the floor. She's surprisingly light, and she melts against your chest, her arms looping loosely around your neck, completely pliant and trusting. You carry her the few steps to the bed and gently lay her on her back, her head sinking into the pillows.

You hover over her, your body caging hers. You start a slow trail of kisses from the hollow of her throat, down her chest, your tongue tracing a line over her sternum. You pause to take one of her small breasts into your mouth through the lace of her bra, sucking gently, and she arches her back with a soft moan. You continue your descent, your lips brushing across her stomach, lower and lower, until your face is right above the dark, wet patch of her panties.

You don't bother trying to slide them off. You hook your fingers into the elastic waistband on either side of her hips and, with one sharp, satisfying rip, you tear the delicate lace apart.

"You won't be needing these anymore," you murmur against her skin.

Wonyoung sighs, a shaky, contented sound. You toss the ruined scraps of fabric aside and part her legs. With your thumbs, you gently push her slick folds open, revealing her to the lamplight, to Eunbi's watchful eyes, to your own ravenous gaze. She is perfect. An absolute work of art. Her outer lips are plump and pouty, a healthy, flushed pink from her arousal. They give way to the delicate, almost translucent inner petals, slick and glistening with her eagerness. It's a tight, neat little package, looking almost untouched, virginal, despite the copious amount of drool she's produced for you. Every part of it seems soft, delicate, and impossibly inviting.

You position the head of your cock, still slick from its time in her throat, right at her entrance. You don't push in. You just rub yourself against her, a slow, torturous friction, smearing your spit and her juices together. Her hips begin to buck against you, a silent plea for more.

As you continue to tease her, she reaches up and unhooks her bra, pulling it off and tossing it aside. Her breasts are small, but they're flawless; perky, high on her chest, with pale pink, rosebud nipples that are pebble-hard with arousal.

"So?" Eunbi's voice is low. "What do you think, baby? Now that you can see it properly. Isn't her pussy just perfect?"

You don't take your eyes off the sight between Wonyoung's legs as you answer. "Perfect doesn't even cover it, Eunbi. It's pristine. So fucking pink and tight... look how wet she is for us. It's like a brand new toy you've just unwrapped. I want to live in here."

"God, it really is," Eunbi breathes. "I wish I had a dick right now. I'd fuck her so good for you. I'd stretch that tight little thing out myself." She pauses. "Since I can't, you'll have to do it for me. Fuck her for me, baby. Claim that pretty little pussy for us. Make it ours.”

You look down at Wonyoung, at the perfect, glistening pink of her pussy, already slick and dewy from your teasing. Her hips are twitching, a desperate, involuntary rhythm against your hand. She wants you, needs you, but you’re not going to make it that easy for her. Not when Eunbi is watching.

"So wet for me," you murmur. You slide the thick head of your cock through her drenched folds, a slow, torturous caress. You press into her, just enough for her to feel your blunt tip against her entrance, a promise of what's to come, before pulling back again. "Look at this mess you've made, Wonyoung. All for a cock you haven't even felt yet."

You dip your fingers into her slickness and bring them up for her to see, the clear, stringy fluid catching the light.

"Look at that, Eunbi," you say, turning your head to your girlfriend without breaking the rhythm of your teasing. "She's practically dripping. So ready for it. Don't you think she looks ready?"

Eunbi leans forward in her armchair. "Oh, she looks ready," she agrees. "But looks can be deceiving. I don't know, baby. She seems a little too quiet. A little too composed. I think a girl who really, truly wants it would be making a bit more noise. Don't you?"

Wonyoung whimpers. Her eyes are pleading. "Please," she breathes out, her hips pushing up against your hand more insistently. "Please... fuck me now. I can't wait anymore."

You glance at Eunbi, a silent question passing between you. Eunbi just shakes her head, a slow, deliberate motion.

"I don't know," you say, your thumb circling her clit, making her gasp and buck. "'Please' is a good start. But I think our pretty little toy can do better than that. A lot better. She needs to convince me." You look back at Eunbi. "She needs to convince us."

"Exactly," Eunbi says. "I want to hear you beg for it, Wony. I want you to tell him exactly what you need. Use your words. Tell him how much you need his big cock stretching you out. Tell him you can't stand another second of his teasing. Beg him like the little whore you are right now."

The command, so crude and direct, seems to shatter the last of Wonyoung’s inhibitions. Tears of pure, unadulterated need well up in her eyes. This is the final hoop, the last test.

"Please," she sobs. "Please, I need it. I need your cock. I need to feel you all the way inside me, filling me up. I can't take it anymore. I'll do anything you want. I'll be your good little whore, I'll be anything, just please... please fuck me!"

That's what you were waiting for. That’s what Eunbi was waiting for. You lean down and kiss her, a hard, possessive kiss that tastes of her desperation. "That's my good girl," you murmur against her lips.

You position yourself between her legs, spreading them wider with your knees. You grab her hips, tilting them up to meet you. You press the head of your cock against her slick, waiting entrance one last time, and then, with a slow, deliberate pressure, you begin to push your way inside.

The moment your thick, crowned head breaches her entrance, a sharp, piercing gasp escapes her lips. Her eyes fly wide open. "Oh, god," she whispers.

She is impossibly, unbelievably tight. It’s like sinking into hot, wet velvet that clings and grips you from all sides. You have to force yourself to go slow, to fight every instinct telling you to slam into her. You push forward, inch by agonizing inch, feeling her inner walls stretch and accommodate you. Her flesh resists, clutching at you, trying to deny you entry even as her wetness beckons you deeper. You can feel every ridge, every fold of her interior, a sensation so intense it makes you groan.

You look down at your bodies. Her legs wrapped high around your waist. Her face is a perfect portrait of overwhelmed pleasure, her lips parted, her eyes glazed over.

"Look at that, Wonyoung," Eunbi moans from the armchair. "Oh my god, look at her stomach."

Your eyes follow her command. Just above her navel, on the flat, smooth plane of her lower belly, a distinct, thick bulge is visible under her skin. It moves with your slightest shift. It's you. All of you, buried so deep inside her that you're visibly reshaping her from the inside out. It is a beautiful, brutal mark of your possession.

"You can see all of him inside you," Eunbi continues. "That's his whole cock, stretching you out, filling that perfect pussy. Isn't it the most beautiful thing you've ever seen?"

Wonyoung can only let out a soft, keening moan in response. Finally, with one last, deep push, you sink yourself all the way in, your pubic bone pressing against hers. You’re seated to the hilt, and for a long moment, you just stay there, perfectly still, letting her body adjust, letting all three of you bask in the overwhelming sensation of being completely, totally joined.

Then, you begin to move. Your first thrusts are impossibly slow, long, deep strokes that pull you almost all the way out before sinking back in, stretching her to her absolute limit. The sounds are obscene; the wet, slick slap of your bodies, the soft, sweet moans that fall from Wonyoung’s lips with every push.

"Deeper, baby," Eunbi urges from her chair. "I want you to hit her cervix. I want you to rearrange her guts. Make her feel you in her soul."

You obey, tilting your hips to change the angle, pushing even deeper. Wonyoung cries out, a higher-pitched sound this time, a mixture of pain and pleasure that is pure music. Her fingernails dig into your back, and her hips rise off the bed to meet you, trying to take you even further. You settle into a steady, powerful rhythm, your bodies moving in perfect sync, a testament to the beautifully depraved plan conceived by the woman watching you both with hungry, loving eyes.

The rhythm is slow and deep, a hypnotic cadence of pleasure. Each long, deliberate thrust fills Wonyoung completely, stretching her tight, wet walls, and with every slow withdrawal, her body clings to you, a silent plea for you not to leave. Her moans are soft, breathy whispers of your name, little sighs of bliss that are almost lost to the wet, slapping sound of your bodies meeting. You’re holding her hips, guiding her, your thumbs pressing into the soft flesh above her ass. You look down at her, at the way her small, perky breasts jiggle with each movement, the way her lips are parted, her eyes hazed over with pure sensation. It’s perfect. It’s serene.

And that’s exactly the problem.

"She takes you so well, baby," Eunbi says from her armchair, a contemplative hum. You can hear her shifting, the slick sound of her fingers moving faster between her legs. "Look at her face. So peaceful. So blissed out." She pauses. "Maybe... she's a little too peaceful. I think our pretty little doll needs another reminder of who's in charge here. A reminder that this pleasure is a gift, and it can be taken away at any second."

You don't break your rhythm, but you look over at your girlfriend. "You think so?" you ask. "What did you have in mind, baby? What does our queen command?"

"I want to see your hand around her throat," Eunbi says. "I want to watch you fuck her while you're choking her. I want you to make her struggle for it. I want her to have to earn every single one of these pretty thrusts you're giving her."

Your gaze snaps back down to Wonyoung. Her eyes are wide now, a flicker of something new in them, not fear, but a sharp, electric anticipation. She heard every word. This isn't just a command for you; it's a new rule of the game for her. You slowly, deliberately, move your left hand from her hip. You watch her watch your hand as it travels up her stomach, over her chest, until it settles at the base of her throat. Her skin is hot and slightly damp with sweat. For a moment, you just rest it there, your thumb stroking the frantic pulse you can feel beating against your palm.

"You heard the queen," you whisper, your eyes locked with hers. And then, you squeeze.

Your hand fits perfectly around her delicate neck. It’s not a violent, crushing grip, but a firm, possessive pressure that immediately restricts her airflow. The effect is instantaneous. The soft, sweet moan she was about to release dies in her throat, replaced by a choked, strangled gasp. Her eyes, which were hazy with pleasure, are now crystal clear, focused entirely on you, wide with a thrilling combination of shock and submission. Her body tenses beneath you, her inner walls clenching around your cock in a powerful, involuntary spasm.

"Fuck," you groan, the sudden tightness almost pushing you over the edge.

"Yes! That's it!" Eunbi cries out. "Squeeze harder! Look at her eyes, baby, look at how she’s looking at you! She loves it! She loves being your helpless little doll! Fuck her now! Fuck her harder for me!"

As if her words are a trigger, you change your rhythm completely. The slow, deep, loving thrusts are gone. In their place is a frantic, punishing pace. Your hips slam into her with a brutal, jarring force, your only goal to drive yourself as deep as you possibly can, again and again.

Wonyoung is thrashing beneath you now, her hips bucking erratically. Her whimpers are now choked squeaks and muffled gags as she struggles for air. But she isn't fighting you. Her hands aren't pushing you away; instead, they're gripping the sheets, her knuckles white. Her legs are wrapped even tighter around your waist, pulling you closer, deeper. She is embracing it. She is loving the degradation, the powerlessness, the sheer overwhelming force of you taking complete control.

You maintain eye contact the entire time, staring deep into her soul as you fuck her and choke her simultaneously. You are the source of her pleasure and the arbiter of her survival.

"That's right," you pant. "Take it. Take my cock while you can't even breathe. You wanted to be my whore, didn't you? This is what it feels like. You belong to us now. You breathe when I say you can breathe."

From the corner of your eye, you see Eunbi. She's on the edge of her seat, her body slick with sweat, her hand a blur between her legs. Her head is thrown back, her mouth open in a silent scream of pleasure. She’s watching every detail, her own orgasm building in time with the violent rhythm you’ve created.

You keep up the frantic pace for what feels like an eternity, pushing Wonyoung, pushing yourself, pushing the entire scene to its absolute breaking point. Her face is flushed a deep red, her eyes streaming with tears that have nothing to do with sadness. Just as you feel a tremor run through her body, the precursor to an orgasm she can't even properly voice, you release your grip on her throat.

The sound of her first ragged, desperate gasp for air is the loudest thing in the room. She sucks in oxygen greedily, her chest heaving, coughing slightly. At the same time, you slow your thrusts, returning to the long, deep, stretching rhythm from before. The sudden shift from violent punishment to deep pleasure makes her cry out, a real, full-throated moan of pure, unadulterated bliss.

You lean down, your lips brushing against her ear, your body still moving deep inside hers.

"Good girl," you whisper. "See how easy it is to obey?”

She looks up at you, her eyes wild and unfocused, her body still trembling from the pleasure and the oxygen deprivation. The brief respite has only made her needier, more desperate for the punishment you just gave her.

"More," she whimpers, broken thing. She pushes her hips up against you, a frantic, uncoordinated movement. "Please... don't stop. Don't be gentle. Do it again. Choke me again while you fuck me. Please."

Eunbi lets out a low, wicked laugh from her armchair. "Did you hear that, baby?" she says, breathless from her frantic masturbation. "She's begging for it. She wants you to be her monster. She doesn't want the saint right now, she wants the punishment." Eunbi leans forward, her eyes glittering. "So do it. Give the girl what she wants. Ruin her for me. Break her completely. Don't stop until she's a quivering, sobbing mess of cum and tears."

Her words are a command, a permission slip, a prophecy. You look down at Wonyoung’s pleading face, and a cruel, dominant smile curls your lips. You lean down and whisper in her ear:

"You want to be ruined?" you murmur. "Then let's ruin you."

Your hand snakes back to her throat, your grip more confident, more possessive this time. You squeeze, not just cutting off her air, but claiming her. Simultaneously, you reignite your assault, your hips slamming into her with a renewed, savage fury. The bed slams against the wall with every punishing thrust, creating a brutal, rhythmic backbeat to the scene. She's going crazy beneath you, her body a live wire of overstimulated nerves. There is no thought, no gentleness, only the primal, driving need to push her past every limit she has ever had.

"That's it, you little fuck toy," you grunt, your words timed with each impact. "Take my cock. It's all you're good for."

With every degrading word, with every second her breath is stolen, you feel her pussy clench around you, impossibly tight, gripping you like a fist. It's the most exquisite sensation, a direct, physical response to her own humiliation. She is getting wetter, hotter, slicker with every insult. The clear, creamy evidence of her arousal slicks your shaft, making your violent thrusts even more punishingly smooth.

"Look at her, Eunbi!" you shout. "The meaner I am, the tighter she gets! The more I treat her like a whore, the wetter she gets for me!"

"I see it!" Eunbi screams back, her own pleasure reaching a fever pitch. "She's so fucking broken for you! Look at your cock moving her stomach! It’s so beautiful! Fuck her harder! Make her cum for us!"

You look down. The bulge on Wonyoung's stomach is moving violently. Her whole body is trembling on the verge of release. Her back is arched so high only her shoulders and heels are touching the bed. Her hands are flailing, gripping your arms, the sheets, anything to anchor herself in the storm.

"You're so close, aren't you, you little slut?" you growl, your mouth next to her ear. You tighten your grip on her throat, pushing your cock in as deep as it will go and holding it there. "You want to cum? You want to feel good? Then you look at me. Look at me and cum for your owners. Now."

That's all it takes. Her body, already pushed to its absolute limit, finally shatters. A violent, full-body convulsion seizes her. Her eyes roll back into her head, showing only the whites, and a choked, strangled sound rips from her constricted throat. And then it happens. A hot, gushing fountain of clear liquid erupts from between her legs, spraying across your stomach, soaking the sheets beneath her, the sheer volume of it shocking. Her pussy clenches around you in a series of powerful, milking spasms that threaten to undo you completely.

The second her orgasm begins, you release her throat. The sudden rush of air allows her to finally scream, a long, piercing shriek of pure, unadulterated lust that echoes in the room. But you don't let her rest. As her body still pulses and spasms around your cock, you slide your free hand down between your bodies, your thumb finding her clit immediately. It's swollen and pebble-hard, exquisitely sensitive. You begin to rub it in firm, circular motions, still fucking her with a deep, steady rhythm.

"No, no, we're not done yet," you whisper.

The effect is instantaneous. Another gush of squirt sprays from her, not as powerful as the first, but still significant. She screams again, a different sound this time, a plea.

"Please, oh god, stop, I can't..."

"You can," you command, continuing your relentless assault on her clit. "More. Give me more."

You make her squirt again, and then again, smaller and smaller bursts, until she is completely and utterly drained, a sobbing, trembling mess of bliss beneath you. Her body is limp, her energy completely spent. She is ruined, just as Eunbi wanted.

You slow your thrusts to a gentle, loving pace, sheathing yourself inside her warm, wet depths. You slide your hand from her clit to her cheek, your grip still firm, and tilt her face to yours. Her eyes flutter open. They are dazed, unfocused, her lashes clumped together with tears, her lips swollen and parted. She is the most beautiful thing you have ever seen.

"Look at me," you demand softly. "Kiss me. Now."

She melts into the kiss, her lips soft and pliant against yours. It's a kiss of total surrender, of complete worship. She presses her exhausted body against you, trying to get closer still. She can't take any more pleasure, any more degradation, any more emotion. Her mind is broken, her body is spent. The carefully constructed walls of her identity have been obliterated, and in their place, there is only one, single, undeniable truth. It falls from her lips in a broken, breathless whisper against your mouth, a final, ultimate confession.

"...daddy.”

The word is a fragile, explosive thing. It settles over the room, changing the already-charged atmosphere into something else entirely, something heavier and more significant. Wonyoung’s eyes are wide, as if she’s shocked the word even escaped her own lips. A sharp, delighted laugh cuts through the quiet from the armchair. Eunbi leans forward, her expression radiant with satisfaction.

"Did you hear that, baby?" She is practically beaming. "Did you hear what our good little girl just called you?"

You don't take your eyes off Wonyoung’s flushed, beautiful face. "I heard."

The confirmation seems to snap Wonyoung out of her trance. A wave of panicked embarrassment washes over her. She looks frantically toward her friend. "Oh my god, Eunbi, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to— I just— it slipped out. Calling your boyfriend... I shouldn't have."

"Shhh." Eunbi waves a dismissive, elegant hand. "Don't you dare apologize. It's more than okay. In fact, I think I loved hearing it more than anything else tonight. He can be your daddy for tonight. I'll allow it. I'll even insist on it."

Wonyoung lets out a shaky laugh, a sound of pure relief. She sinks back against the pillows, her exhausted body going boneless. She sighs, a long, contented exhalation that seems to carry all her remaining tension with it.

"I have never," she begins, "ever been fucked that rough in my entire life." Her gaze becomes distant, remembering. "I feel like my brain was scrubbed clean. I'm in heaven." She turns her head to look at Eunbi again, her expression full of genuine affection. "Am i... Am I doing it right? Are you guys enjoying it?"

"Yes." Eunbi’s answer is simple, firm, and leaves no room for doubt. “You're being perfect, sweetie."

"I will never, ever forget this night," Wonyoung vows.

"No, you won't." A new, contemplative look crosses Eunbi’s face. An idea is forming, you can see it in the way her eyes narrow slightly. "But just to be sure... just to give you a little souvenir to remember us by..."

She trails off, letting the suspense build.

"I think daddy needs to mark you," Eunbi declares. "In a way that ensures you'll never, ever forget who you belonged to tonight."

Wonyoung’s eyes light up with a fresh wave of excitement and submission. She looks from Eunbi to you, her new title ready on her lips.

"Yes," she whispers, her plea directed at you now. "Daddy. How... how are you going to mark me?"

You know exactly what to do.

"On your hands and knees. Now."

Wonyoung obeys without a single flicker of hesitation. She scrambles to turn over, her movements clumsy with exhaustion but fueled by eagerness. She settles on the bed, her back to you, presenting you with the most incredible view. You take a moment to admire it before you bring your hand down with a loud, sharp smack against the high, round curve of her right ass cheek. The sound cracks through the room like a gunshot. A perfect, red handprint immediately blossoms on her pale skin. She yelps, a sound of pure, startled pleasure.

"Stay just like that," you order. "Don't you fucking move."

You slide off the bed and walk over to where your discarded pants lie in a heap on the floor. You unthread your belt, a thick, black leather one, from the loops.

When you turn back to her, she is exactly as you left her, a perfect picture of obedience. Her ass is high in the air, a perfect offering. It’s a masterpiece. Not large, but so perfectly shaped and perky it defies gravity. The cheeks are high, round, and tight, forming a flawless heart shape that tapers down to her thighs. The skin is smooth and pale, marred only by the bright red handprint you just left. And nestled right between those perfect cheeks is the main event: her pussy, swollen and pink from her orgasm, glistening with her squirt, an open, inviting target.

You kneel on the bed behind her, the cool leather of the belt dangling from your hand. You press the head of your cock against her slick entrance, feeling her jolt as your flesh meets hers. Her whole body tenses in anticipation.

Then, you raise the belt. You bring it down not with full force, but with a sharp, stinging crack right next to your handprint. Another red line appears on her perfect skin. She cries out again, her hips bucking instinctively.

You lean forward, your mouth close to her ear, your cock still teasing her entrance.

"Now move," you command. "Ride my cock. You do the work."

A shudder runs through her body. A low, guttural moan escapes her lips. And she obeys. She starts to move, slowly at first, pushing her ass back against your stationary cock, impaling herself on you one inch at a time.

Her first backward thrust is slow, hesitant, a question. The hot, wet walls of her pussy envelop you, the tightness from this new angle making you hiss through your teeth. She moves with a careful, deliberate slowness, impaling herself on your stationary cock until you are buried to the hilt once more. She holds herself there for a moment, her whole body trembling with the overwhelming sensation of being filled so completely.

You give her a moment to adjust, and then you lift the belt.

The sound of the leather slapping against her skin is sharp and loud, a stark punctuation mark in the quiet room. It lands squarely on her left ass cheek, leaving an immediate, angry red line. She screams, a high, piercing sound that is nothing like her earlier moans. This is a scream of shock, of pain, of pure, unadulterated sensation. And as she screams, she instinctively thrusts her ass back hard against you, a desperate, convulsive movement.

"Yes," you growl. "That's it. That's the rhythm. You want my cock? You earn it with your screams.

Another sharp smack, this time on the other cheek. She screams again, and again her hips slam back against you, grinding down on your shaft. She’s getting it now. The connection between the sting of the belt and the deep, stretching pleasure of your cock is being hardwired into her brain.

"Oh god... yes!" she cries out. "Please, daddy, more! Hit me again!"

"You want more?" you ask. You bring the belt down again, harder this time, right over the first mark. "You want me to punish this perfect ass?"

"Yes! I love it! Please!" she sobs. She’s moving faster now, her initial hesitation completely gone. She’s a natural, a perfect little slut who was born to be broken like this.

"Listen to her, baby!" Eunbi’s delighted shout comes from the armchair. You glance over. She’s a vision of pure lust, her body slick with sweat, her hand moving between her legs so fast it’s a blur. "Listen to her screaming for you! It's making me so fucking wet! Leave bruises on her! I want her to see them for days and remember who she belongs to!"

Wonyoung seems to hear her, and it only spurs her on. "Please, daddy, leave your marks on me! I want to see them! I want everyone to know I'm your whore!"

Her plea is so utterly debased, so beautifully pathetic, that you grant her wish without hesitation. You abandon any pretense of gentleness. You begin to spank her in a steady, relentless rhythm, the belt falling again and again, crisscrossing over her skin. You don't aim for the same spot twice, instead creating a brutal, beautiful lattice of red welts across the pale canvas of her ass. And with every single impact, she screams and fucks herself down onto your cock harder, faster, her moans becoming a constant, breathless litany of "yes," "please," and "daddy."

The view is intoxicating, a fucking masterpiece of depravity that you are both the artist and the subject of. Her back is arched, her spine curved in a perfect line of submission. Her long, dark hair is a sweaty mess, clinging to her neck and face. Her knuckles are white where she grips the sheets. And her ass... her perfect, round, tight ass is now a mess of angry red lines and the fading handprint from before, flexing and clenching around the base of your cock as she rides you with frantic abandon. You can see her pussy from this angle, her swollen pink lips stretched wide around your shaft, glistening with her juices. It’s a sight you will never forget.

"You're doing so good, Wony," Eunbi pants from across the room, her own orgasm clearly approaching. "You sound so fucking good when he hurts you. Keep screaming for him. Scream for us."

"I'm screaming," Wonyoung sobs, her body trembling violently. "I'm close, daddy, please, I'm so close."

You can feel it. Her inner walls are fluttering and clenching around you in a series of powerful spasms. She's on the verge of another orgasm, this one born from a perfect, chaotic storm of pain, pleasure, and humiliation. You bring the belt down one last time, a hard, definitive smack that makes her whole body jolt.

"Then cum for me," you roar. "Cum from the pain. Cum from my cock. Cum like the good little slut you are."

It’s all she needs. Her body locks up, her back bowing at an impossible angle. A long, guttural scream rips from her throat as her second orgasm crashes over her, this one even more violent than the first. Her pussy clenches around you in a series of deep, milking convulsions, and you feel another gush of her sweet, hot cream flood her, coating your cock, dripping down onto the already-soaked sheets. She collapses forward onto the bed, her body a trembling, shuddering mess, her frantic riding slowing to a weak, exhausted grind. But you don't stop. You grab her hips, pulling her back up, and begin to fuck her yourself, your own rhythm hard, deep, and steady, taking control now that she has nothing left to give.

Wonyoung’s orgasm doesn’t bring her a moment's peace. There is no gentle afterglow, no tender comedown. The second her body begins to relax from its violent, shuddering climax, you renew your assault. You don't give her a single second to recover. You begin fucking her again with a hard, driving rhythm, your hips slamming into her bruised, trembling flesh without mercy. Her body is exquisitely, painfully sensitive, every nerve ending raw and screaming.

The pleasure quickly curdles into over-stimulation. Each deep thrust, which moments ago was a source of bliss, is now an almost unbearable jolt to her system. She starts to whine, her head thrashing from side to side on the bed.

"No, please, daddy, stop," she begs. "Just for a second. Please, it's too much. I'm too sensitive right now... please..."

You ignore her. Her pleas are just noise, the desperate squeaks of a toy being used exactly as it was designed to be used. From the armchair, Eunbi lets out a low groan, her own pleasure reignited by the sight of her friend's suffering. "Don't you dare stop, baby," she pants. "Don't you listen to her. She'll take it. She loves it. Make her take it for me."

You grab Wonyoung's hips, your grip firm, almost bruising, holding her in place as you pound into her relentlessly. Her pussy is still clenching around you in weak, residual spasms, the walls slick with her squirt. With your rhythm steady and punishing, you slowly, deliberately, move your right thumb from her hip. You trace the deep crease of her ass, your thumb gliding easily through the fluids that have trickled down from her pussy.

You find what you're looking for. Her asshole is a tight, perfect, pink little knot. It's beautiful. The force of her recent orgasm has it twitching and blinking non-stop, a tiny, puckered star in the center of her bruised cheeks. It's so incredibly tempting.

You press the pad of your thumb against the tight, wrinkled entrance. She flinches, a sharp intake of breath as she feels the unexpected pressure.

"Shhh," you murmur into her ear. "Just take it."

Slowly, you push your thumb inside.

A choked, high-pitched moan rips from Wonyoung's throat as she feels the invasive pressure, the new sensation of being filled in a way she wasn't prepared for. Her whole body goes rigid, her pussy clenching around your cock so tightly it almost makes you lose control. For a moment, she is completely overwhelmed, her mind overloaded with sensation: the deep, punishing thrusts of your cock in her pussy, the stinging welts on her ass, and now the blunt, stretching pressure of your thumb deep inside her tight little asshole. But then, as you start to gently move your thumb in and out in time with your thrusts, her tension melts away, giving way to a new fresh wave of helpless, abject pleasure. It’s too much. It’s not enough.

She twists her head, looking over her shoulder with wild, pleading eyes, not at you, but at her friend, the architect of her beautiful destruction.

"Eunbi!" she screams. "Oh my god, I'm going to cum again! I can't believe it! He’s not stopping! He's destroying my pussy! Your boyfriend is ruining me!"

Eunbi throws her head back and laughs. The sight of her friend, so completely broken and undone, is the hottest thing in the world. Her own frantic fingering doesn't slow for a second.

"Is he?" Eunbi calls back. "Good. You’re our toy, Wonyoung. You exist to be ruined for our pleasure. You're a whore on your hands and knees, taking cock. Now turn your fucking head around and beg your daddy properly. Beg him to make you cum again. Beg him to break you."

"Please, Daddy," she sobs, her hips bucking frantically against you. "She's right. Please ruin me. I need to cum again. I need you to make me. Please break my pussy, fill both my holes, just please make me cum!"

Her desperate, filthy plea is your cue. As she begs, you release her hips and reach forward, grabbing a thick handful of her long, silky hair. You yank her head back, exposing her throat, forcing her to look up towards the ceiling. The new angle changes everything, driving your cock deeper, hitting a spot that makes her scream in a way she hasn't yet.

"That's my good little whore," you growl, fucking her with a new, savage intensity, using your grip on her hair to control every movement. "Begging so prettily for it."

She’s right there, on the very edge of the cliff. Her body is starting to seize up, the tell-tale tremors of an imminent, massive orgasm.

At the same time, a sharp, strangled gasp comes from the armchair.

"Fuck! I'm coming!" Eunbi shouts, a raw, desperate cry. "Baby, right now! Don't stop!"

Wonyoung hears her, and it seems to push her even further. "Me too! Oh god, daddy, I'm coming too! Together!"

The thought of it, of both your girls climaxing at the exact same moment, for you, because of you, is the ultimate power trip. You focus all your energy on that single goal.

"Yes," you roar. "Together! Both of you! Cum for your daddy! Now!"

It happens all at once.

A piercing, world-shattering scream rips from Wonyoung’s throat as her orgasm finally hits. Her body goes completely rigid, then convulses violently around you. Her inner walls clench and milk your cock in a series of impossibly tight spasms, and you feel another hot gush of her squirt flood from her, soaking you both. At the very peak of her release, you thrust into her as deep as you can possibly go, burying yourself to the hilt, holding her there as she rides out the tidal wave.

Simultaneously, Eunbi’s body goes ramrod straight in her armchair. She screams your name as her own climax crashes down. In her bliss, she instinctively arches her back, a powerful, convulsive movement to heighten the pleasure. The sudden, sharp motion sends a stab of pain shooting up her injured spine. But the pain doesn't curdle the pleasure; it ignites it. The pain and pleasure slam together, amplifying each other into a singular, supernova of sensation. Her scream is not one of simple joy, but of a pleasure so intense it borders on agony. When the last wave finally subsides, she collapses back into the chair, completely boneless, her body slick with sweat. You stop moving, your cock still buried deep inside Wonyoung’s twitching, sensitive pussy as she whimpers softly on the bed, utterly spent.

Eunbi lets out a long, shaky moan. She shifts slightly in the chair, a small wince crossing her face as she feels the dull, residual ache in her lower back: a faint echo, a small price to pay for the tidal wave that just hit her.

"God..." she pants. "I missed cumming that hard." She looks at you, a dazed, grateful smile on her face. "That was... so fucking intense. Fuck, my back is killing me right now, but it was worth it.”

You slowly, reluctantly, pull out of her. The sound is obscenely wet, a soft noise that echoes in the sudden quiet. She whimpers at the loss, her body slumping fully onto the mattress, a beautiful, ruined doll.

Your first concern is for your girlfriend. You turn your head, your eyes finding her in the armchair. She’s still breathing heavily, a hand pressed to her lower back.

"Eunbi? Are you okay?"

She takes a few deep, shuddering breaths before answering, her words a little shaky but firm. "Yes," she gasps, a weak but genuine smile touching her lips. "God, yes. My back is just... reminding me it exists. But I'm fine." She gestures with her head toward the bed, her gaze softening as she looks at her friend. "You should worry about her, not me. Go on."

You turn your full attention to Wonyoung. She is utterly wrecked in the most exquisite way possible. Her hair is a tangled, sweaty halo around her head. Her skin is flushed and covered in a fine sheen of perspiration. The red marks from your hand and the belt stand out in stark, beautiful contrast against her pale ass cheeks. She looks like she’s been through a war and come out the other side in a state of pure bliss.

You crawl onto the bed beside her, leaning close so your lips are next to her ear. "Hey," you whisper gently. "How are you doing? You with me?"

She turns her head slowly, her movements languid. A weak, impossibly cute smile graces her features. Her eyes are hazy and unfocused, but they find yours. "I'm fine," she breathes. "More than fine. And I really want to make you cum now. I want to feel you cum inside me." Her gaze is earnest, pleading. "You can use me however you want. Do anything. Fuck me until you explode inside me and fill my whole pussy with your cum. It's okay," she adds, a practical little detail in the midst of the chaos. "I'm on the pill."

You look from her open, offering face to Eunbi, who has been watching the tender exchange with a knowing smile. The full, twisted reality of the moment hits you. Your girlfriend, the woman you love, is sitting in an armchair, recovering from a pain-laced orgasm, while her best friend begs you to fill her with your seed. It's so fundamentally wrong, so far outside the bounds of a normal relationship, but it's the hottest, most intensely arousing thing you've ever experienced.

You don't have to ask for permission. Eunbi sees the question in your eyes and answers it before you can speak.

"Wonyoung is offering you a gift, baby," she says. "A beautiful, filthy, generous gift. This moment is all yours. You've taken such good care of us tonight. Now it's our turn to take care of you." She leans forward, her eyes locking with yours. "Do what you need to do. And when you're ready, you fill her up. Fill that perfect pussy with your cum. I want to see it."

Wonyoung beams at her friend's words, a radiant, happy smile.

A new wave of purpose surges through you. You grab Wonyoung by the waist, pulling her from her languid state into a sitting position. "Up you get," you command softly.

You slide off the bed and pull her with you. She's shaky on her feet, but you don't let her stand for long. You scoop her up into your arms with an ease that surprises even you. She gasps, her arms instinctively wrapping around your neck, her legs around your waist. She is light, pliant, and fits against you perfectly.

With her held securely against you, you turn and stride across the room, stopping directly in front of Eunbi's armchair. You are presenting your offering to your queen. You want her to see everything, up close and personal.

Wonyoung adjusts herself, her pussy, still dripping and swollen, now hovering right in front of your rigid cock. You guide yourself to her wet entrance, the head of your dick nudging against her slick folds. She moans in anticipation, pushing her hips forward.

With a powerful upward thrust of your hips, you sink into her.

She cries out as you fill her completely, her body held aloft only by your strength. You begin to fuck her right there, in the air, standing a mere foot from your girlfriend's face. You start with slow, powerful thrusts, your hips driving upward, seating your cock as deep inside her as it can possibly go. Each movement is a deliberate, calculated act of possession, and the view is all for Eunbi.

Your girlfriend leans forward in her armchair, her eyes wide and dark with lust, her lips parted. She has a front-row seat, a privileged, exclusive view of the show she orchestrated. She can see everything.

"Oh my god," she breathes, cutting through the wet, slapping sounds of your bodies meeting. "Yes, right there. I can see it all perfectly from here. I can see the base of your cock disappearing into her, baby. It's... perfect." She looks at Wonyoung, whose head is thrown back in ecstasy. "Look at that, Wony. Look at how he fills you up for me. Isn't it beautiful?"

Wonyoung lets out a long, shuddering moan, her body trembling in your arms. She turns her head, her lips brushing against your ear. "Yes, daddy," she pants. "Fuck me for her. Let her watch you use my body. I love it when she watches. Please, go harder."

Her words, her complete and total submission to the dynamic, shatter the last of your control. You begin to fuck her with abandon, your hips slamming into her with a raw, animalistic fury. You’re using her like the fuckdoll she begged to be, a warm, wet hole for your pleasure.

"That's it!" Wonyoung screams, a full-throated cry of ecstasy that rings through the room. "Yes, like that! Don't be gentle! Use me! Use me up!"

"I am," you grunt. "I'm going to fuck you so hard right in front of her, you'll forget whose cock this is. You'll forget everything but this."

The view from Eunbi’s chair must be utterly obscene. She can see the way Wonyoung’s entire body jolts and shakes with every powerful impact. She can see the muscles in your back and shoulders straining as you hold her aloft, your bodies slick with a shared sweat. She sees Wonyoung's face, contorted in a mask of pure, overwhelming pleasure, her mouth open in a silent scream as she takes you again and again. It’s a raw, unfiltered display of ownership, and it’s all for her.

"Yes, baby, yes!" Eunbi cries out. "She's our doll! Our perfect little fuckdoll! Look at how she takes it! She loves it! Fuck her harder! Make her scream my name while you do it!"

You lean in, your lips brushing against Wonyoung's ear again, your thrusts never faltering. "You heard her," you command. "Scream her name for me. Let her know who this is for."

"Eunbi!" Wonyoung shrieks. "Oh god, Eunbi, he feels so good!"

The sound of her name on her friend's lips, screamed out in the throes of passion, seems to amplify Eunbi's pleasure tenfold. Her hips begin to buck in her armchair, her moans becoming louder, more desperate. She's close again, driven there by the sheer, unadulterated filth of the scene unfolding before her.

"Keep going, baby," Eunbi urges from her throne. "Don't you slow down. Not for a second."

You don't. You can't. You’re reaching your absolute limit. Every cell in your body is screaming for release. Wonyoung’s pussy is a slice of heaven, a hot, tight sheath that grips and milks you with every powerful thrust. It’s the best thing you’ve ever felt, and you could fuck her like this for an eternity. The thought of stopping is impossible, but the thought of continuing is pushing you right over the edge.

"Are you getting close?" Eunbi’s question is sharp, cutting through your haze. "Tell me you're close."

"Yes," you pant. "Fuck, I'm so close."

She somehow finds another reserve of energy, her hips beginning to grind against you with a new fervor. "Daddy," she sobs against your neck, the name a brand of ownership. "Oh god, daddy..."

You’re almost there. The point of no return is rushing toward you, a freight train of pure sensation. The world narrows to the feeling of her tight, wet heat, the sound of her whimpers, and the sight of your girlfriend watching it all.

That's when they start begging.

"That's it, baby, you're right there!" Eunbi cries out. "Don't you dare hold back! Give it to her! Give us your cum! We've been such good little sluts for you, we deserve it! Drown her in it!"

"Please, Daddy, please cum inside me!" Wonyoung pleads, her hot breath ghosting across your skin. "Fill me up! I want to feel you explode inside my pussy! I need to be your good girl and take all of your cum! Please!"

"Beg him, Wony!" Eunbi commands. "Beg him for it!"

"Please, daddy! For her! For me! Cum for us!"

Their pleas, their unified desire to be used and filled and to witness it, is the final trigger. A guttural roar tears from your chest. Your grip on Wonyoung’s hips becomes iron, almost bruising. You pull her impossibly tighter against you, your bodies flush, and you fuck her with a final, brutal surge of force. Your thrusts are no longer about rhythm; they are about obliteration. You are trying to drive yourself straight through her, to connect your body to Eunbi's through the vessel of her best friend.

And then, you explode.

Even after coming before, this second release is a torrent. It’s a massive, powerful eruption that has been building for weeks. A huge, hot load of your seed shoots from the head of your cock, pumping deep, deep inside her. You feel the powerful contractions of your own orgasm, the unstoppable flood of release, and you continue to thrust, burying every last drop as deep as it will go.

The sensation of your hot cum flooding her womb is what sends Wonyoung over the edge one last time. A final, piercing scream is torn from her lips as she cums again, her orgasm a direct, violent response to yours. Her whole body convulses in your arms, her inner walls clenching around your still-pulsing cock in a series of exquisite, milking spasms.

In the armchair, Eunbi delights in the shared climax. She screams along with Wonyoung, her hips bucking, her body mimicking the pleasure she’s witnessing. Her own orgasm is a phantom, a sympathetic reaction so powerful it's as if you had actually come inside her, her moans a testament to the absolute success of her depraved, beautiful plan.

For a long moment after, the only sound is the harsh, ragged panting of all three of you. You remain buried deep inside Wonyoung, your forehead pressed against hers, her weight a heavy, satisfying burden in your arms. Finally, with a groan of utter exhaustion, you slowly, carefully, pull your now-softening cock out of her.

Her pussy makes a wet, sucking sound as you withdraw, a sound of obscene finality. And then, a thick, creamy white stream of your cum begins to leak from her swollen, pink lips, the evidence of the massive load you just deposited inside her. You carry her back to the bed and gently lay her down. She is completely boneless, a dazed, blissful smile on her ruined face.

"I'm so full," she whispers, her eyes fluttering shut. "Thank you, daddy."

You look over at Eunbi. She looks sated, triumphant, and utterly exhausted. "That," she says, "was the single hottest thing I have ever seen in my entire life. You were both so good for me.”

You look from Wonyoung’s blissed-out, ruined face on the bed to Eunbi’s triumphant, sated expression in the armchair. Panting, you find the breath to speak.

"Don't get too comfortable," you manage to say. "I have one more surprise for you."

Eunbi’s eyebrows shoot up. A fresh spark of interest ignites in her exhausted eyes. "A surprise?" she asks. "What could you possibly have left after... all of that?"

You look directly at her, your grin widening. "I saved a load just for you."

Her jaw drops slightly. A slow, delighted blush creeps up her neck. "No way," she whispers. "You're still...?"

"He is," Wonyoung confirms from the bed. She pushes herself up with a groan, her movements slow and lazy. As she stands, another thick, creamy white trickle of your cum escapes her pussy and runs down her inner thigh. She doesn't seem to notice, or care. She stumbles over to you, leaning against your side for support, and gestures toward your groin. "I don't understand how it's possible. He's still hard. Even after coming twice like that. It's amazing."

You wrap an arm around her waist, pulling her close. "It's easy when I have the two most beautiful women in the world dedicated to my pleasure." You press a kiss to Eunbi's forehead, then look down at her magnificent breasts. "But this last one... this one is reserved exclusively for the queen." You look at Wonyoung. "I need your help, though. I need you to give me a nice, slow handjob. I want to cum all over your best friend's tits."

Eunbi’s face lights up with pure, unadulterated joy. It's her favorite. "Oh my god, please," she begs, her hands coming up to cup her own breasts in offering. "Please, baby, cover them for me."

Wonyoung smiles, happy to be of service once more. She kneels dutifully in front of you and Eunbi, taking your still-hard cock in her hand. It's slick and sticky with a mixture of her fluids and your own, and her grip is warm and confident. She starts to stroke you, her movements much slower and more deliberate than before.

"That's it," you groan, your head tipping back as she works you with an expert touch. Her speed gradually increases.

"He's getting close again," Eunbi observes, her eyes wide. "Look at his face. Come on, baby. Cum for me. Give it all to me."

The sound of your girlfriend begging for your cum, after everything that has already happened tonight, is so incredibly potent. It’s the final push you need.

"I love you so fucking much," you pant, your eyes locked on hers.

"Please, daddy," Wonyoung whispers from below, her hand focusing its efforts on the sensitive head of your cock, rubbing and twisting in. "Give it to her. Cum for your girls."

"I'm—fuck!—I'm coming!"

And then you do. With a final, guttural roar, you erupt. Another hot, thick load shoots from your cock, splattering all over Eunbi’s waiting chest. You unload everything you have left onto her, painting her beautiful, full breasts with your release. She moans as the hot liquid hits her skin, a sound of pure, decadent bliss. Wonyoung doesn't stop, continuing to stroke your shaft with a gentle, steady rhythm until the last twitch has subsided and your cock finally goes soft in her hand.

For a moment, all is quiet again, save for your ragged breaths. Eunbi looks down at the mess on her chest with a look of utter contentment. She dips a finger into the puddle of cum and slowly, sensually, spreads it all over her tits, coating them in a thick, pearly white sheen.

“Oh, wow,” Wonyoung breathes. “He painted you so perfectly. It’s a shame to just… wipe it away.” She looks up, her eyes meeting Eunbi’s. “Let me clean that up for you, baby. Please?”

Eunbi shifts in the armchair, adjusting herself to give Wonyoung better access, a queen preparing to receive tribute.

“I was hoping you’d offer,” Eunbi purrs. “Don’t let it get cold. Come here.”

Wony crawls forward, looking up at the canvas of your seed on her best friend’s skin with the focus of a master artist.

“So much…” Wonyoung murmurs, reaching out a hesitant finger to trace the edge of a thick white puddle on Eunbi’s right breast. She brings the finger to her lips, tasting you. Her eyes flutter shut for a second. “Mmm. You taste so good on her. Salty and perfect.”

“Then stop tasting with your finger and start using your mouth,” Eunbi commands softly, her hands coming up to tangle in Wonyoung’s hair. “Be a good girl and clean your mess.”

Wonyoung obeys instantly. She leans forward and latches onto one of Eunbi’s large, pink nipples, her mouth hot and eager. She doesn’t just suck; she worships. Her tongue darts out, swirling around the hard nub, licking away every drop of your seed with a meticulous, practiced care. She laves the entire areola, her mouth creating a gentle suction that makes Eunbi’s head fall back against the armchair with a sharp hiss of pleasure.

“Oh, fuck… Wony…” Eunbi gasps, her knuckles white where she grips the arms of the chair. “Your mouth feels… holy shit.”

“God, I missed these big tits,” Wonyoung murmurs against her skin. She works her way across the swell of the breast, her tongue lapping up every last trace of your cum until the skin is clean, pink, and glistening with her own saliva. She pulls back for a moment to admire her work, her lips wet and shiny.

“See?” Wonyoung says, looking up proudly. “All clean. It was too pretty to waste.”

Eunbi’s chest is heaving, her breathing heavy and strained. “Don’t you dare stop now,” she pants, her gaze flicking down to her other breast, still coated in your cooling cum. “The other one is feeling very left out.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Wonyoung promises.

She leans in again, this time starting at the base of the breast, slowly licking a hot, wet path upwards through the sticky mess. She takes her time, cleaning every inch with a devotion that is breathtaking to watch. You can only stand there, completely mesmerized by the scene.

“Look at her, baby,” you say. “Look how she takes care of you for me.”

“I’m watching,” Eunbi breathes. “Fuck, I think I’m getting wet again. It feels so good. Wony, your tongue… it’s magic.”

When Wonyoung finally reaches the second nipple, she takes the entire thing into her mouth, sucking hard, her cheeks hollowing with the effort. She works it with her tongue and lips until Eunbi is writhing in her chair, soft, wet moans falling from her lips. She cleans and cleans, meticulously, worshipfully, until not a single drop of your seed remains, leaving only two perfectly clean, saliva-slicked breasts, flushed and pink from the attention.

Wonyoung pulls back, a string of saliva connecting her lips to Eunbi’s nipple for a split second before it snaps. She looks up, her expression one of pure, triumphant adoration.

Eunbi lets out a long, shuddering sigh of pure bliss, her body going limp in the armchair.

“Good girl,” she whispers, her fingers gently stroking Wonyoung’s hair. “You’re such a good, good girl for us.”

A soft, needy whimper escapes Wonyoung’s lips as Eunbi praises her. She looks up, her face a perfect portrait of adoration, her eyes shining with an almost religious fervor. Her lips are wet, glistening, and her cheeks are flushed a deep, rosy pink.

“Did I do a good job?” she asks, her query a fragile, breathless thing. So beautiful. “Does it make you happy, mommy?”

The new name hangs in the air, it shifts the dynamic yet again, slotting a final, perfect piece into the puzzle of the night. Eunbi just smiles. She loves it. Of course she loves it. Her grip in Wonyoung’s hair tightens, not painfully, but with a firm, definitive ownership.

“Yes,” Eunbi breathes. “It makes mommy very, very happy. You’re such a good girl.” She tilts Wonyoung’s head back slightly. “Did you like it? Tasting him on me?”

Wonyoung nods frantically, her whole body seeming to vibrate with eagerness. “So much. He’s delicious.”

“Good,” Eunbi murmurs, her gaze dropping to Wonyoung’s swollen, glistening lips. “Then I want to taste him, too. Right now.”

She doesn’t wait for an answer. She guides Wonyoung’s face forward, pulling her into a kiss. It’s not a gentle, tender thing. It’s a kiss of pure decadent claiming. The moment their lips touch, Eunbi’s mouth opens, her tongue plunging inside with a demanding urgency.

Wonyoung gasps into the kiss, her body going limp as she surrenders completely. She meets Eunbi’s demand with her own brand of desperate, worshipful passion. It’s a wet, messy, glorious kiss. You can hear the slick, slobbery sounds as their tongues meet and tangle, a frantic dance in the cavern of Wonyoung’s mouth. Eunbi is exploring, tasting every surface, her mission clear: she wants to taste you, to experience the flavor of her own pleasure, recycled through the mouth of her devoted best friend.

She groans, a deep, guttural sound of pure bliss, as she finds what she’s looking for. The distinct, salty tang of your release is still coating Wonyoung’s tongue, and Eunbi savors it, laving her tongue against Wonyoung’s in long, slow, greedy strokes. The kiss deepens, becoming even more carnal, a exchange of spit and arousal. Wonyoung’s hands come up to grip the arms of the chair, her knuckles white, as she’s kissed with a devouring, all-consuming force that seems to steal the very breath from her lungs.

Finally, after what feels like an eternity, Eunbi pulls back. She moves slowly, dragging the kiss out until the last possible second. A thick, shining string of saliva connects their lips for a moment before it snaps, and you watch, utterly transfixed, as Eunbi licks it from her own lips.

“Mmm,” she sighs, looking down at the completely undone girl at her feet. “He’s even better on you.”

Finally, you move. You crouch in front of Eunbi's chair, taking her hands in yours. You look her in the eye, your heart full. "Baby, I don't even know what to say… Thank you for this," you say. "For the most amazing night of my life. You were right. You're always right. It was perfect." You lean in and kiss her deeply. "I love you."

Wonyoung comes to kneel beside you, taking Eunbi's other hand. "I love you too, mommy," she says. "And thank you... for trusting me with this. With him. It... it means a lot to me. More than you know."

Eunbi looks between the two of you, her eyes suddenly shining with unshed tears. She lets out a shaky, nervous laugh. "Okay, okay, stop it, you two," she says, trying to sound stern but failing. "You're going to make me get all emotional and cry, and that will definitely ruin the mood."

You all laugh together.

"I think," you say, standing up and stretching your tired muscles, "that a bath is in order. A very long, very hot bath."

"I agree," Eunbi says, a tired but happy smile on her face. She looks at Wonyoung. "You should sleep here tonight. If you want to. I think you can survive a night on the couch." She then glances at you, a wicked, suggestive glint returning to her eyes. "It definitely has room for both of you. You know... just in case you get horny again in the middle of the night and need a wet little pussy next to you." She looks back at Wonyoung. "It happens often," she adds, her tone deadpan.

"Are you sure?" Wonyoung asks, a hint of shyness returning. "I don't want to... impose or anything."

"Impose?" Eunbi scoffs, reaching out to squeeze her hand. "Wony, after tonight, you're not just another guest. You're the piece that connects us. Besides, I want you here in the morning. We can have breakfast and some really hot morning sex. Of course, unless his back doesn't get fucked up because of the couch.”

"My back will be fine," you interject with a mock-serious tone. "But I'm not sure that couch is big enough for me, my ego after tonight, and a 'wet little pussy'."

Wonyoung giggles, leaning her head on your shoulder. "I'm sure we can find a way to make it all fit."

"See? It's settled," Eunbi declares, then she sinks deeper into her chair, a look of utter contentment on her face. "Now, about that bath... I think daddy should probably wash both of his good girls.”

—

The past two months established a rhythm that was as strange as it was intoxicating. A new kind of normal settled over your apartment, one filled with secret smiles, lingering touches, and nights that were anything but conventional. The routine became second nature. Wonyoung would come over, sometimes under the guise of a movie night, sometimes with no pretense at all. And you would fuck her. You fucked her on the couch while Eunbi directed from her armchair. You fucked her on the floor, on the kitchen counter, against the wall. And every single time, Eunbi was there, a willing, eager audience of one, her hand always slipping between her legs. She loved it. She loved watching you be the monster, and she loved watching her best friend embrace her inner slut. And gradually, amidst this beautifully depraved new life, she healed. The deep ache in her back faded, her movements became less stiff, and her reliance on the crutches lessened until they were finally leaned against a wall, forgotten.

Today marks the final step. The freedom. You walk out of the orthopedic clinic and into the bright, warm afternoon sun, Eunbi’s hand tucked securely in yours. Her leg, pale and a little thin from its time in captivity, is finally free of the heavy plaster cast. She practically skips beside you, a giddy, infectious energy radiating from her.

Her phone buzzes in her pocket. She pulls it out, a wide grin spreading across her face as she reads the message. She shows you the screen. It’s a text from Wonyoung.

Wony <3: Heard the jailbreak was a success! I’m bringing victory pizza for dinner tonight to celebrate. Be there around 7. Don’t have too much fun without me ;) xxx

You can’t help but smile. The thought of seeing Wonyoung, of all three of you being together without the specter of injury hanging over you, feels incredibly good.

—

The moment you step through the front door of your apartment, Eunbi lets out a whoop of pure joy. Before you can even react, she launches herself at you, jumping into your arms. You stumble back a step, laughing as you catch her, her legs instinctively wrapping around your waist. It’s the most unguarded, athletic movement she’s made in months.

"Whoa there, killer." You tighten your grip on her, easily holding her weight. "Just because you're one hundred percent recovered doesn't mean you need to start trying to break the other leg. I'm running out of couches to sleep on."

She just pouts, burying her face in the crook of your neck. You carry her over to the sofa and drop down, her still comfortably settled in your lap. "It feels good to have you complete again," you murmur, pressing a soft kiss to her shoulder. "Whole."

"Mmm, it feels good to be whole." She leans back. "You know what this means, don't you? No more restrictions. We can finally go back to having lots, and lots, and lots of sex. The real kind."

"I am very aware," you confirm, your hand sliding down to squeeze her ass. "And I am very much looking forward to it." You pause. "Wonyoung was… she was a really good friend through all of this. A lifesaver." A thought strikes you, and you voice it. "I was a little worried things might get awkward between all of us, you know? Once you were better. But it’s not. It feels… normal."

"Of course it's not awkward." Eunbi says it with such confidence, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "We’re all well-adjusted, mature adults who can handle complex emotional and sexual situations."

You let out a soft, almost wistful sigh, thinking of the intense, secret nights of the past two months. "Yeah. I guess so. Still… it was good while it lasted."

Eunbi’s smile turns into a slow, mischievous smirk. She traces a finger over your bottom lip. "Who said anything about it ending?"

You frown, confused. "What do you mean? You're healed. We don't need… her help… anymore."

"Need?" She lets out a soft laugh. "Oh, baby. This stopped being about 'need' a long, long time ago. This is about 'want' now." She leans in closer. "It turns out, I enjoyed watching you fuck Wonyoung even more than I imagined I would. Seeing you so primal, so dominant… and seeing her so happy to take it, so broken for you… it’s the hottest thing I’ve ever experienced. It’s a part of us now. Our relationship is working better than it ever has."

She punctuates her sentence with a soft kiss. "So why on earth would we stop doing something that makes all three of us this happy?" She pulls back, her eyes glittering with her grand finale. "But, of course, there’s going to be one major change to the arrangement."

You stare at her, your mind trying to catch up. "What change?"

"Now," she purrs, "I'm going to join in, too."

You look at her, searching her face for any hint that this is a joke, a fantasy. You find none. Only pure, delicious, serious intent. "Are you serious?"

"Deadly serious."

The three of you. Together. No restrictions. Wow.

"Wow," you breathe out. "Wonyoung is going to be very, very happy when she finds out about this." You think back to the last time, just a few days ago. The energy was different, tinged with a quiet sadness. It felt like a farewell. "That last time… it was kind of melancholy. I think she really thought it was over for good."

"Then she’s in for a very nice surprise at dinner tonight, isn't she?" Eunbi says, her smile triumphant. She shifts in your lap, grinding down against you. "But dinner is hours away." Her hands tangle in your hair, pulling your face down to hers. "And we have two months of lost time to make up for. Right now." Her lips are inches from yours.

"The fans wouldn't leave the garage," she says, her voice a mix of exhaustion and that breathless, desperate hunger she only shows you. She walks toward you, her eyes fixed on the silver ring on your left hand—the one that represents your "perfect" life. "And I had to make sure the manager was sufficiently... distracted."

She stops inches away from you, the scent of her Tom Ford perfume mixing with the smoke of your scotch. She reaches up, her fingers tracing the sharp line of your jaw, then moving down to tug at your silk tie.

"The 'People’s Assemblyman' looks tired," she whispers, her thumb brushing against your lower lip. "Did the session go poorly? Or did your wife nag you about the charity gala again?"

You set the glass down on the mahogany table. Your hand finds her waist, pulling her flush against you. The contrast is stark: your stiff, expensive wool suit against her soft, exposed skin. You represent the law; she represents everything you’re willing to do to break it.

"My wife is at her father’s estate in Daegu for the weekend," you mutter, your hand sliding down to the curve of her hip, squeezing just hard enough to make her gasp. "And you know better than to mention her here."

"I like it when you get cold, Y/n-ah," she breathes, her hands sliding under your blazer to find the heat of your chest. She drops to her knees, looking up at you with the same eyes that millions of fans worship on screen, but here, she’s just a girl looking for her next payout—both financial and physical.

She unbuckles your Hermès belt with practiced ease. "The fans think I'm the 'Waterbomb Goddess.' They have no idea I belong to a man who writes the very laws that are supposed to keep me 'pure.'"

She peels your trousers down, and your cock snaps free, thick and pulsing with the suppressed rage of a day spent playing the "perfect citizen." She doesn't hesitate; she takes you into her mouth, her tongue swirling around the head with a wet, heavy suction that makes the lights of Seoul blur in your vision.

You reach down, your fingers tangling in her dark hair, forcing her deeper. This is the only place in the world where you don't have to be the Honorable Park Y/n. Here, you're just the man who owns her.

"Faster," you command, your voice a low growl.

Eunbi obeys, her throat opening up to accommodate you, her hand moving to stroke your base. The risk of your position, the sheer weight of your secret, and the sight of Korea’s top soloist kneeling at your feet is a more potent drug than any alcohol.

The muffled, frantic vibration of your Samsung Galaxy Z Fold on the mahogany side table shatters the silence of the suite. The screen glows with a name that makes your blood run cold even in the heat of the moment: Chairman Choi – National Assembly Majority Leader.

You stiffen, your hand tightening instinctively in Eunbi’s hair. She lets out a small, choked sound, her eyes fluttering up to yours, dark and clouded with lust. She doesn't stop, her tongue continuing to swirl around the sensitive rim of your crown, oblivious to the fact that the man on the other end of that phone could end your career with a single leaked transcript.

"Eunbi. Stop," you rasp, your voice thick.

She pulls back slowly, a thin, silver thread of saliva connecting her lip to the head of your cock. She looks at the phone, then back at you, a playful, dangerous smirk tugging at her mouth.

"The Chairman?" she whispers, her hand continuing to stroke your length with a slow, agonizing rhythm. "He’s such a bore. Tell him you’re in a ‘closed-door session.’"

The phone vibrates again. You reach out, your fingers hovering over the glass. If you don't answer, he’ll call your wife’s father. If you do answer and he hears her...

"I have to take this," you mutter, grabbing her chin and forcing her to look at you. "Not a sound. If you breathe too loud, I’ll cut your allowance for the next three months. Understand?"

Eunbi’s eyes flash—part fear, part thrill. She nods, then leans forward, her tongue darting out to lick the very tip of you before she settles her cheek against your thigh, looking up at you like a predator waiting for the signal.

You swipe the screen. "Chairman Choi. I apologize for the hour. I was just reviewing the final amendments for the Seoul Redevelopment Act."

Your voice is a masterpiece of political theater—steady, authoritative, and completely devoid of the fact that Korea’s most famous soloist is currently kneeling between your legs.

"Park Y/n," the Chairman’s voice crackles, gravelly and hurried. "We have a problem. The prosecution just executed a search warrant on the Dongdaemun District Office. They’re looking for the ledger on the ‘S-Project.’ Your name isn't on the warrant yet, but we need to move the offshore accounts by sunrise."

Beneath you, Eunbi decides to test your resolve. She leans in, her lips barely brushing against the sensitive skin of your inner thigh, her warm breath hitching as she listens to the man who holds your future in his hands.

"I understand, Chairman," you say, your knuckles turning white as you grip the edge of the table. "I’ll contact the trustees in Singapore immediately. We’ll scrub the digital trail before the morning session."

Eunbi’s hand slides up, her fingers wrapping around your base, squeezing firmly as she begins to move her hand in a slow, torturous slide. You feel a surge of heat hit the back of your throat. Your breath hitches—a fraction of a second too long.

"Park? You still there?" the Chairman asks, his tone sharpening. "You sound... out of breath. Are you at the gym this late?"

"Just... the stairs, Chairman," you manage, your teeth gritting as Eunbi’s tongue finds the head of your cock again, light and teasing. "The elevator is out for maintenance at my residence. I’ll call you from a secure line in ten minutes."

"Make it five," the Chairman grunts and hangs up.

The silence that follows is deafening. You drop the phone onto the carpet and look down at Eunbi. She’s looking up at you, her expression one of pure, unadulterated triumph. She knows she almost broke the "National Son-in-Law."

"You're a demon," you growl, reaching down and grabbing her by the waist, hoisting her up until she’s pinned against the floor-to-ceiling window.

"And you're a liar, Y/n-ah," she whispers, her legs wrapping around your waist, the black lace of her bodysuit scratching against your skin. "A very, very good one. Now... show me how you handle a real crisis."

The glass of the Signiel penthouse is cold against her back, but the heat radiating between your bodies is a physical weight. You don't bother with the bed; the adrenaline from the Chairman’s call has turned your blood into liquid fire, and the sight of Eunbi pinned against the skyline of the city you technically rule is too perfect a power trip to move.

You hoist her up, her legs wrapping around your waist with a desperate strength. The sheer La Perla lace of her bodysuit is the only thing between you until you reach down and tear the crotch aside, the delicate fabric giving way with a sharp, satisfying rip. You enter her in one smooth, heavy thrust, bottoming out against her cervix.

She lets out a high, broken cry that fogged the window, her head falling back against the reinforced glass. The contrast is intoxicating: the frozen, silent city 100 floors below and the wet, rhythmic friction of Korea’s most "virtuous" politician burying himself in its most coveted soloist.

You flip her around, pressing her chest against the window so she’s forced to look out at the National Assembly building in the distance—the very place where your face is plastered on campaign posters. From behind, you reach around, your large hands cupping her breasts. They are heavy and warm, spilling over your fingers as you knead the soft flesh, your thumbs rhythmically flicking her hardened nipples.

You lean down, your mouth finding the sensitive curve where her neck meets her shoulder. You bite—not enough to bleed, but enough to leave a signature that her stylists will have to work overtime to hide with Dermacol tomorrow.

"Look at it, Eunbi-ya," you growl into her ear, your hips slamming into her with a primal, unrelenting pace. "That’s my city. And you’re my favorite thing in it."

She groans, her forehead resting against the glass, her breath coming in short, ragged hitches. "Y/n... ah... slower... you're going to... break me..."

The friction is building to a flashpoint. Because it’s raw, you can feel every twitch of her internal muscles, the way she’s clenching around you as she nears her own peak. The sensation of skin-on-skin is a luxury your "perfect" life rarely allows, and the lack of a barrier makes every thrust feel electric.

As you reach the point of no return, your movements become frantic, your breath hitching just like it did on the phone. You’re seconds away from ruining everything—a child with a mistress would be the end of the "S-Project" and your seat in the Assembly.

Eunbi feels the change in your rhythm, the way your body stiffens as you prepare to let go. She reaches back, her hand fumbling for your thigh, squeezing hard to anchor you.

"Y/n... pull out," she gasps, her voice trembling with the force of her own orgasm. "Don't... don't put it inside. Remember the 'S-Project'... pull out..."

You hear her, but the haze of pleasure is thick. At the last possible second, you growl and yank yourself free, the wet sound of the withdrawal echoing in the silent suite. You spill across the small of her back and the glass of the window, the hot, white evidence of your betrayal of the state—and your wife—sliding down her skin in the moonlight.