#eunha

Amongst the monotonous drone of the harsh fluorescent lights and the mysterious smell emanating from the bathrooms, it’s hard not to feel a little pessimistic about life. It would be so easy to air out your long list of grievances to anyone that’ll listen, but complaining to the kind of people this place attracts—late night travelers who’d struggle putting two and two together— is always more trouble than it’s worth.

“Welcome to 7/11!” 

The ring of the entrance chime followed by the soft yet enthusiastic voice of your coworker is a constant that you have yet to get used to, even after a whole three weeks of hearing it nonstop. You told Eunha plenty of times before that she doesn’t have to greet the customers, yet she continues to do so anyway, something about “responsibility” and “upholding the company’s image”—as if the company’s image isn’t rotisserie hot dogs and gallon-sized slushies. 

At best, she’ll get a polite nod, at worst, they scoff and act as if a simple gesture is the worst thing that’s ever happened to them. Her greetings might be more suited to the morning crowd, but she insists that she’s not much of a morning person. You don’t exactly care enough to verify her statements, so you’re content with her keeping you company during the night shift.

“Let me know if you need help with anything!” Eunha calls out to the customer as he aimlessly wanders through the aisles. You’ve grown accustomed to the late night visits from these kinds of people, guys in their early 20’s who seem either too drunk and/or faded to respond properly; hopefully, he’ll just quietly pay for his things and leave without any trouble.

“Yo,” he utters, carelessly dropping a single beer can and a box of large condoms onto the counter. You give him a curt nod, trying not to make a face as the violent stench of weed attacks your nostrils. Figures.

“$7.50.”

“Hey bro, do you know if that chick over there has a boyfriend?” He looks over at Eunha as she stocks the shelves, baggy eyes tracing her body through a half-lidded gaze. You simply shrug. Whatever she does outside of work is none of your business.

The man chuckles to himself, grabbing his things off the counter. “Watch this.” He saunters over to her and engages in a conversation that you can’t quite make out. Even as you try to distract yourself with other work, you can’t help but tense up slightly, stealing glances towards your coworker. 

Eunha puts on her signature smile, nodding her head to everything he’s saying. Occasionally she’ll laugh, more so out of politeness than anything. If you would have to describe her with one word, “polite” would probably be enough. Maybe overly so, but hey, who’re you to judge her of all people about small talk?

Then, you notice a small crack in her expression. The corners of her lips drop ever so slightly. Her eyes widen just a smidge. Now he’s walking towards her, backing her up into a corner, like a predator stalking its prey. 

You’ve learned not to stick your nose into other people’s business; even the simple act of lending an ear has cost you time and energy that ultimately led you to getting kicked to the curb the second you’re no longer of use. It’s exhausting. You’d do anything to forget that kind of pain, even if it means your existence is a bit lonelier. And yet, despite your better judgment, you grab a spare broom and begin sweeping towards the problem, stepping in between them right as Eunha’s back hits one of the fridges.

“Excuse me,” you mutter, your eyes never leaving the ground.

“Bro, what the fuck are you—”

“I’m trying to do my job,” you state, jerking your neck to glare at him. The man scoffs in annoyance before stomping towards the exit, grumbling incoherently while he knocks a couple chip bags off the shelves.

“Thanks,” Eunha says, breathing a sigh of relief. “He kept asking for my number and wouldn’t stop after I said ‘no’. I don’t know what would’ve happened if you weren’t here.”

You shrug, continuing to sweep the rest of the store. In hindsight, there might not have been a need for you to intervene in the first place; Eunha is a grown woman that can probably take care of herself, and what kind of damage could a guy like that do anyways? Yet, despite everything, you still chose to play the hero. What’s done is done.

As you go back to your place by the register, you notice Eunha beaming brighter than ever before despite no one else being around.

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Eunha groans, face planting into the counter. “I’m bored.”

“You could deep clean the coffee machine,” you suggest, eliciting an even louder groan from her.

You think about telling her to switch to the afternoon shift, but refrain from it in the end, figuring she probably has her own reasons for wanting to work this late. You chose the night shift out of necessity more than anything. Countless sleepless nights led you to the conclusion that you might as well get some compensation for your suffering.

Eunha’s face suddenly lights up as she goes over to the fridges and grabs two beer cans. “We should drink!” she says.

“Those are for the customers,” you state.

“I’ll pay for them, dummy. Besides, there’s literally nothing else to do. No one has stopped by for hours.”

You stare at her pleading face, slightly impressed by how well she manages to pull off “puppy-dog eyes”. You don’t consider yourself much of a drinker—going down that road only left you with an unbearable sickness that made “taking the edge off” not even worth it—but a hunch in the back of your mind tells you to go for it anyways. Maybe “puppy-dog eyes” actually do work; maybe the boredom’s gotten to you too.

“Woohoo!” she cheers. “Let’s go sit out front! I wanna look at the stars.” Eunha grabs the cans and a large bag of chips from the shelf before running out of the store with the excitement of a kid in a candy store. With a sigh, you follow behind her.

Your breath catches in your throat as the outside chill hits you like a speeding train, sending an unpleasant shiver through your spine that makes you regret even considering this stupid idea. You turn to retreat back to the warmth of the store, but a brief glimpse of Eunha waving you down with such genuine enthusiasm pulls you in, and before you can even think to stop yourself, you’re already grabbing the beer can from her outstretched hand. 

“Isn’t it beautiful tonight?” she comments, gazing up at the stars above. It’s… nice. Better than the harsh fluorescent lights of the store, for sure.

“Yeah,” you utter, taking a swig from your can. You grimace at the bitterness, a reminder of why you stopped in the first place.

“Woah pal, I don’t need to hear your life story,” she quips, chuckling at her own joke. “Isn’t this better than being stuck in that smelly old store all night?”

You shrug. “It’s… alright, I guess.”

She stares at you for a while, studying your expression with a focused squint.

“...What?” you mutter, suddenly feeling self-conscious under her gaze.

“Nothing, sorry.” She shakes her head, her gaze falling to the unopened beer in her hands. A tense moment passes before she finally clicks it open and takes a small sip, wincing as she swallows the bitter liquid. “Um, do you… hate me or something?”

You turn to her in confusion. “Hate” isn’t a word you associate with Eunha. Truly, you don’t think anyone could hate someone like her. Maybe you get a little irked by her inability to set up the shelves properly, but nobody’s perfect, least of all you. In fact, you don’t have any strong feelings about her one way or another. She’s just your coworker. 

Just that. 

Nothing else.

“No, not at all,” you reply.

A small grin forms on Eunha’s lips. “That’s good. I was worried that maybe I did something and that’s why you never talk to me.”

Huh? “I talk to you.”

“Yeah, no, I mean, like, really talking. Not just about work and stuff,” she explains. “We’ve been working together for, like, months and I barely know anything about you!”

“It’s barely been three weeks,” you correct her, earning a dramatic eye roll. “Do you really need to know anything about me to work here?”

Eunha grimaces at your answer. “I guess not, but it would be nice to know if I’m working with a serial killer or not.” She takes another small sip from her can, tension seeping into the frigid air between you two.

“I’m not a serial killer,” you state.

“Well, I wouldn’t know that if you didn’t tell me.”

“I could be lying.”

She turns to you, studying your expression with an intense focus. “Hmm… I don’t think you’re lying.”

“You think?” You raise an eyebrow at her.

She shrugs. “For starters, aren’t most serial killers supposed to be charming to lure in their victims and stuff? No offense, but you’re the least charming person I’ve ever met.”

“Better than being a serial killer I guess.”

She chuckles to herself, dissolving any lingering tension in the air. “So you have a sense of humor. That’s good to know.”

“I guess I do.”

Eunha lifts her can towards you, flashing you a warm smile that wards away the bitter winds. You watch as the corners of her lips curl at a certain angle, her eyes squinting ever so slightly to make room to smile even wider. How impossibly white and symmetrical her teeth are, as if god or whoever is up there took their time creating her. In hindsight, she’s probably perfect for this job - kind, inviting, instantly putting you at ease with a single glance. A smile seems so natural on her, it feels like the sky would fall if it disappeared from her face for even a moment.

“Hello?” She waves her hand in front of your face. “My arm is getting tired here, are you gonna cheers me or not?”

You shake your head. “Right. Sorry.” You clink your can against hers before bringing it to your lips. The bitter taste of alcohol is nonexistent at this point, replaced by subtle yet present undertones of sweetness. You peek through the top of the can, confirming that it’s still the same old cheap beer it was mere seconds ago. Yet, for now, it’s just a little more bearable.

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To put it lightly, this fucking sucks.

The shadows dance and jeer at you from your ceiling as if to celebrate your misfortune. All you can do is watch the show play out as you barely cling to life. An earlier Google search of your symptoms tells you that it’s just “a common cold”, but you’d swear Death itself has a personal vendetta with you, cursing you with rusty lungs and cinder blocks for limbs. Regretfully, you retrieve your phone from your nightstand, sending Eunha a text that you aren’t able to make it to work tonight.

A sudden weight jumping onto your chest causes you to drop your phone onto the floor. Two yellow marbles coldly stare at you through the darkness, silently judging your poor condition.

“Y-Yokai, please… I can’t b-breathe…” With weak hands, you try to gently push your cat off of your chest, but it’s no use. Every time you try to get close, the little beast nips at your fingers. 

This is it. This is how you die. You never believed in the superstition about black cats, but perhaps you should’ve heeded its warning. Maybe this is his way of telling you that he never liked you in the first place, in spite of all you’ve done for him as his caretaker. Years from now, when someone finally notices that you’re missing, they’ll find your corpse with Yokai resting right on top, like he’s gloating about outliving you. You shut your eyes, quickly accepting your fate. On the brightside, maybe you’ll finally get some sleep for once.

A knock on your front door causes him to jump off your chest to inspect the noise. You silently thank the stranger at your front door as your lungs finally fill with air. As far as you’re concerned, they just saved your life.

WIth a blanket wrapped around you, you struggle against your headache and stumble towards the door. The person on the other side makes you wonder if you should add hallucinations to your list of symptoms.

“Hi!” Eunha beams at you, a plastic bag in her hands. “I brought you some stuff to help with your cold!”

“H-huh?” You stand there in shock, a million questions floating through your head. “What about the store?”

She shrugs. “I closed it for a bit. I’m sure the two customers that would’ve shown up tonight will live.”

Never in a million years did you expect anyone, aside from the occasional delivery man, to show up to your doorstep, let alone with the purpose of providing you aid. It’s… nice. You’re probably better off with a good night’s rest, but god knows you’ll never get one.

“Are you gonna invite me in? It’s rude to keep a woman waiting, y’know,” she teases.

“R-right.” You step aside, allowing her into your apartment that hasn’t seen another human soul the entire time you’ve lived in it. As luck would have it, another person arrives on the one day that you’re unable to clean anything. “Sorry about the mess.”

“It’s alright—Oh!” Yokai leaps from the shadows, stopping just a few feet in front of her to inspect the stranger entering his home. “Hi there! Oh my gosh, you’re so cute!”

Eunha kneels down to his level and offers her hand towards him. Taking the invitation, Yokai approaches her with cautious yet curious steps, his eyes dilated and ready. After a seemingly tense moment, his pupils soften as he presses his small face into her palms, accepting her enthusiastic pets.

“I can’t believe you never told me about your cat!” she playfully berates you. “What’s its name?”

“His name is Yokai,” you answer, collapsing haphazardly onto the couch. “Found him on the street when I first moved here.”

She raises an eyebrow at you. “You named your cat after Japanese demons?”

You shrug. “It seemed fitting at the time.”

Eunha chuckles, giving him one last pet before placing the bag on the table. “I brought you some cold meds, green tea, and a can of chicken soup. Is it alright if I use your kitchen to heat up the soup?”

You wave her off. “Thanks, but you don’t have to do that.”

She rolls her eyes at you, grabbing the can and walking over to the kitchen in defiance. “If I didn’t want to do this, I would’ve just dropped it off and left.”

With barely any energy left to argue, you resign yourself to resting your head against the armrest, listening to the clanging of metal and the creaking of wood as Eunha searches your cabinets for a pot. Three flickers followed by the gentle poof of the stovetop bring you back to simpler times when your mother would cook meals for you as a kid. That comforting feeling of knowing that everything would end up okay even if the current times are tough. 

A feeling you haven’t felt in a long time.

Hope isn’t something you like to cling onto; you know at this point that hoping for something as supposedly inevitable as sleep is a waste of time. Some nights you’ll get lucky, the stars will align and you’ll fade into bliss as soon as your head hits the pillow, but those nights are so few and far between that they might as well be nothing but coincidences. It was much harder during the earlier days. Countless checkups, thousands of desperate Google searches and Reddit posts, downing melatonin like the next gummy could solve all your problems.

And yet, as the savory scent of chicken soup lingers closer, you can feel your eyelids grow heavier and heavier.

“Hey, sleepyhead,” Eunha says, nudging you gently. “The soup is gonna get cold if you don’t eat it now.”

“Right.” You sit up, finding yourself mere inches from her bright smile, the steam from the soup wafting in between you two. She brings a spoonful of the warming liquid to your lips, blowing on it first to cool it down.

“Open wide,” she says.

“I can feed myself.”

She rolls her eyes dramatically. “Humor me for a sec. Besides, when’s the next time a pretty girl like me is gonna spoon feed you soup?”

You stifle a chuckle at her shamelessness, reluctantly parting your lips. The saltiness washes over your tastebuds, warming your entire body as the liquid slides down your throat. It’s the same cheap chicken soup you’ve eaten before when money was scarce, yet something about it feels different; like it’s healing your heart, not your stomach. Perhaps your illness is messing with your tastebuds, but whatever the reason, it tastes way better than it normally would.

“See, was that so hard?” Eunha teases. A buzz from her pocket interrupts her from giving you a second spoonful. “Sorry, I need to take this real quick, it’s my boyfriend.”

So she does have a boyfriend. 

“Yeah, go ahead,” you say, retrieving the bowl from her. She gives you an appreciative grin before walking over to the kitchen and answering the call.

Whatever goes on in Eunha’s personal life is her business, not yours. Yet, you can’t exactly stop your ears from catching onto glimpses of words, attempting to decipher some kind of meaning through the fog. None of it is coherent, but her disappointed sighs and harsh whispers don’t exactly paint a pretty picture—certainly not one you expect from a loving couple.

After a brief moment, Eunha walks back into the living room, her expression noticeably darker than before. The smile that she usually dons is jarringly absent and her eyes are glossy, as if she’s on the brink of tears.

“Sorry, um… I have to go,” she mutters, unable to meet your eyes. “I have to pick up my boyfriend, he’s, uh… been drinking again.”

You can’t help but feel worried at her sudden downtrodden look, unfamiliar on her face. “That’s alright. Will you be okay?”

“Uh, yeah, I’ll be fine.” She tries to put on a reassuring smile, but the look of dread dripping from her eyes and the lack of soul in her expression only leaves you more anxious than before. “He gets like this sometimes. It’s… nothing, really.”

An unfamiliar feeling grows in the pit of your stomach, an urge to provide some ounce of comfort. But this isn’t your place to intervene; that’s what you keep telling yourself, at least.

“I’ll, uh, see you tomorrow then? Or whenever you feel better.” Eunha quickly gathers her things and heads towards the door, but Yokai jumps in front of her.

“Bye, Yokai. I hope this isn’t the only time I see you,” she says, offering him a few gentle pets. Right before she disappears behind the door, Eunha looks back at you, holding an expression you can’t quite read. The door shuts with an audible click, and the vast emptiness of your apartment envelopes you once again.

Suffice to say, you don’t get much sleep that night.

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“So…” Eunha tilts her head to give you a better look. “What do you think?”

You shrug. “It’s… pink.”

Her lips curl into a pout, unsatisfied with your answer. “This is the first time you’ve seen me dye my hair and that’s all you can say?”

It’s another quiet night at the store, somehow quieter than usual. These late night chats with Eunha have become a sort of tradition between you two, a tradition you’ve grown decently fond of these past few weeks. Nowadays, she doesn’t even bother with the alcohol, instead simply asking you if you want to watch the stars with her. The chilly nights are still a bit bothersome, but the company more than makes up for it at this point. 

Conversations mostly consist of listening to her talk about things in her personal life, her school, her friends, and occasionally, her boyfriend. Sometimes she’ll ask questions about your own life. You try your best to answer, but frankly, you don’t consider there to be anything worth noting. She’ll pry a bit, but respects your choice to be quiet about these things. A gesture that you’ve come to appreciate.

“What am I supposed to say?” you ask her.

“Anything,” she says. “Whatever’s on your mind. I just wanna know what your opinion is.”

“But it’s your hair, why should my opinion matter?”

“Maybe it doesn’t, but that doesn’t make me any less curious.” She shifts herself towards you, giving you a good view of her new look. “So, tell me. What do you think?”

A loaded question for sure. You know better than to be too honest about these kinds of things, but you also know that she won’t be satisfied unless you put effort towards a real, honest answer. You lean in to better analyze her features, tracing every single detail of not just her hair but the visage that it crowns.

She’s cute, you think. You know. The bright pink of her hair brings out the porcelain of her skin, giving her the appearance of a doll, well crafted and loved by its creator. Every single feature is perfectly and meticulously placed, down to the spacing of her eyelashes and the angle of her nose. It’s no surprise the amount of stories she has about getting hit on in random places. Maybe if you had a bit more confidence and a bit less sense, you would’ve ended up like one of those stories. But you know better than to indulge those kinds of thoughts, especially one about a coworker.

“It looks… nice,” you utter after a moment of thinking.

Eunha softly chuckles to herself. “I guess that’s about as good of an answer I’m gonna get from you.” She leans back against her palms, releasing a deep breath into the night. “You’re pretty fun to talk to.”

You raise an eyebrow at her. 99% of your conversations consist of her talking while you listen and offer the occasional nod. She might as well be speaking to a brick wall with a conscience.

“I’m serious,” she says, laughing at your expression. “Y’know, a lot of girls like a guy that can listen as well as you do.”

“Thanks, I guess.”

Her lips quiver in hesitation before speaking again. “Do you… have a girlfriend?”

You shake your head no.

“Boyfriend? Partner? I don’t judge.”

No again.

“Hmm…” She nods, her mind falling into deep thought. “That’s surprising.”

“Is it?” you argue. “If I remember correctly, you said I was ‘the least charming person you’ve ever met’.”

“That was a joke!” she exclaims. “I’m sure there’s someone out there that thinks you’re charming.”

You shrug, letting your gaze float to the stars in contemplation. You’ve had your fair share of relationships in the past, good and bad. You thought you would spend the rest of your life with the last girl, but as fate would have it, that just wasn’t in the cards for either of you. The days spent lazing in each other’s arms suddenly turned into nights where being in the same room was unbearable, and the minor quirks you once adored became the topic of all your shouting matches that punctuated the end of your relationship.

So now you’re here, working at a convenience store during the ungodly hours of the night and going home to a cat that likely wants you dead.

“That’s a possibility,” you say, not wanting to sound too nihilistic.

“Come on, give yourself some credit.” Eunha pats your shoulder supportively. “I’ve seen how some of the female customers look at you.”

You can’t help but grimace at her words. “They’re not really… my type.”

“Then what is your type?” she asks, eyes wide with intrigue.

Another loaded question, one that you honestly don’t know the answer to. Or perhaps, an answer that you don’t want to materialize, for fear of the can of worms it would open, so you take the easy way out.

“I don’t know. I’m not really interested in dating right now.”

“That’s lame, dating is… Well, it should be fun,” she says. A glimpse of something hides beneath her expression, nigh imperceptible if it wasn’t for that brief glint in her eyes. “I’m going to a club with my friends this weekend for my birthday, you should come! Maybe I can set you up with one of them.”

“No, absolutely not,” you adamantly refuse. A club is the last place you would ever want to go to on a weekend. Bumping against sweaty strangers in a cramped space while bass boosted garbage spews from the speakers isn’t your idea of fun.

“Please, it’s for my birthday!” she begs. “It’ll be fun, I swear!”

“Eunha.”

She clasps her hands together, pouting her lip and flashing you those large puppy eyes. “Please~”

You don’t consider yourself to be spineless or a pushover; the exact opposite, in fact. The less you do for others, the less issues you’ll have going forward.

But it is really, really difficult to say no whenever she gives you that face.

You sigh, averting your gaze to hide the blush creeping against your cheeks. “...What does your friend look like?”

Eunha squeals in delight, fishing her phone from her pocket. “Here.”

She hands you her phone, displaying a photo of a woman around your age. Long, wavy hair cascades perfectly down her shoulders, framing her delicate features, while a dress made of fiery purples and reds clings to her slim frame, giving her an air of class and maturity. A woman that’s, to put it bluntly, way out of your league.

“Her name is Yuju,” Eunha explains. “She’s really into music, and she takes pole dancing classes on the weekends. Pretty hot, eh?” 

“I suppose,” you say. “You think she’ll find me ‘charming’?”

“Ye—Hmm… I guess we’ll find out.”

Not reassuring in the slightest. You’ve gone and doomed yourself to a weekend of brushing backsides with the worst people you can imagine, people who have no regard for personal space or public perception, all for a woman you don’t know.

Well, not a woman you don’t know. It’s for Eunha’s birthday, after all. Her and those damn eyes.

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Eunha is good company. You like having her around, even if you’ll never admit that to her. She’s good—decent at her job, and in between the stench of hot dogs and the occasional rude customer, there’s comfort in knowing that there’s someone like her on this godforsaken planet.

You can’t say the same about her friends.

“Hey~!”

“OMG, you’re so tall!”

“Eunha, your friend is so handsome!”

Skip the pleasantries entirely, you’d rather be anywhere but here right now. They don’t even try to hide their early signs of intoxication as they sway to the muffled beats leaking through the walls of the club and onto the streets outside. Eunha, seemingly sensing your discomfort, stays by your side.

“They can be a handful at times, but they’re nice,” Eunha says.

“Eh… What about her?” You discreetly gesture towards one of her friends that’s been sending you death threats through a not-so-subtle glare the second you arrived.

“Oh, that’s SinB. She’s, uh… She’s friendly once you get to know her.” Eunha gives you a small yet reassuring grin, which honestly does little to comfort you. You appreciate the gesture nonetheless.

The line creeps ever closer towards the entrance of the club, signified by the trashy music growing louder with each step. Just a peek through the door and you’re already grimacing at the thought of having to spend a single second in this wretched haven of hedonism.

“Which one is Yuju?” you ask, trying to get your mind off of the impending dread building in your stomach.

“She’s running a little late, stuck in traffic.” Eunha smirks at you, waggling her eyebrows. “You excited to meet her in person?”

You shrug. “I don’t know. I guess?”

She rolls her eyes at you. “Word of advice, try not to be too much of an emotionless robot in front of her.”

You open your mouth to argue, but the bass blasting from the speakers drowns out anything you try to say. Not like you can even think of a proper argument with how overwhelming everything is. 

As you follow Eunha deeper into the club, you instantly regret not making up some lame excuse at the last minute and bolting. You can barely take two steps without bumping into anyone, a task made more difficult with the lack of proper lighting and the disorienting stench of some unknown substance floating around. The smell emanating from the hot dog machine at work is more favorable to this.

“Here you go, girl!” one of Eunha’s friends exclaims, gesturing towards a seating area sectioned off with velvet rope. On the table sits a light up centerpiece reading “Happy Birthday, Eunha!” surrounded by an abundance of expensive-looking alcohol. Her friend must be loaded because there’s no way Eunha could afford any of this with a convenience store salary. Consequently, your present for her pales in comparison to this kind of extravagance.

“Oh my god!” Eunha squeals, hopping with excitement, “Thank you so much, this is insane!”

The way her face lights up with happiness almost makes coming here worth it. So, you do your best to endure, downing shot after shot with everyone else while trashy music bleeds into your brain. Eunha steals glances at you from the far end of the booth, offering an apologetic look as her rowdier friends bombard you with incoherent words and shot glasses overflowing with poison. You meet each look with a smile and a simple wave, yet it’s becoming an increasingly herculean task to not let the lingering burn of alcohol in your throat manifest itself onto your visage.

A woman with long wavy hair approaches Eunha, and the two pull each other into a giddy embrace, exchanging words and excited giggles. You can’t quite make out their conversation—not like you’re trying to eavesdrop—but with the way Eunha is pointing at you and the vaguely familiar silhouette of the other woman, you’d have to guess that she’s probably Yuju.

“Hello!” she hollers, her voice straining against the distorted thump of the speakers. “Are you Eunha’s friend?”

“Yeah.”

Yuju extends her hand towards you, sporting a polite grin. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“Likewise.”

In any other scenario, maybe you could’ve had a decent conversation with her. Hell, maybe you could’ve even fallen in love with her. You’re not blind; she’s certainly an attractive woman. But in a place like this, where you’re constantly fighting the urge to up and leave, it’s impossible to try and form any kind of connection. And you genuinely try. More for Eunha’s sake than yours, but the attempt is still there.

Halfway through the barely discernible wall of words, you feel a pressure on your thigh. It creeps upwards slowly, inch by inch, stopping just shy of your crotch. Yuju bites her lip at you, her eyes half-lidded and heavy with seduction, leaning in until you can feel the heat from her breath against your ear. Thus far, you’ve been guessing her words and trying to formulate a response based on what you could lip read. But what she whispers into your ear rings true, like the whole world went silent just so you could hear her.

“Let’s cut the bullshit already and get to the fun part. I haven’t had dick in so long, I just need to feel you inside me.”

The rush of adrenaline sparked from her words alone leaves you reeling as you feel yourself being tugged around by this woman you just met, struggling to keep balance in the sea of faceless strangers. The sounds, the sights, the fucking everything about this place melts reality like goo seeping through your fingers, where the only constant is the fire in your windpipe and the sign for the women’s bathroom growing larger with each step.

This kind of spontaneity is probably good for someone like you. These days, you barely make an effort to make friends as it is, the thought of going out and actively trying to date didn’t even cross your mind until recently.  It’s not like the thought of having sex with Yuju doesn’t excite you a little, you are human after all. With all the bleak memories you have from your last relationship, maybe it’s time that you let it go and let something good happen to you for once.

But is this good? You’re about to have sex with a woman you just met, in the bathroom of a club of all places. Exciting, sure, but good? You don’t even have a condom on your person, and judging by her current state, it doesn’t seem like Yuju has one either. All you have is your wallet and Eunha’s gift.

Eunha.

By some act of divine intervention or your own instincts, your eyes snap to the middle of the dance floor. Through the sea of drunken silhouettes, you see Eunha, frozen against the continuous wave of moving bodies. Her smile is gone. There’s a man there, slowly encroaching on her. Maybe they’re just talking. Her friends are around, surely they can protect her if she’s in any danger.

But they’re not there. Most are still at the booth, inhaling bottle after bottle without a second thought, while one pulls you towards the bathroom, too horny to consider the consequences of her own actions. 

The man touches Eunha’s shoulder. She tries to swat him away, but he’s bigger than her. Much bigger. Like a vicious wolf cornering a poor rabbit.

Without another moment of hesitation, you break free from Yuju’s grasp, shoving your way through the crowd with complete disregard for everyone except Eunha. Most people will think you’re the biggest idiot for throwing away an opportunity with a woman like Yuju, but you wouldn’t be able to live with yourself if you choose meaningless sex over the safety of your only friend.

You grab the man’s wrist, pulling Eunha behind you. “Get away from her,” you growl.

“Fuck off.” He tries to shove you aside, but you stand firm, refusing to budge in the slightest. You’re probably—no, definitely—a fool for trying to stand up to a guy built like a fridge. The scrawny guy at the store is nothing compared to this giant meathead. But as you feel Eunha cling onto the back of your jacket, her hands trembling in fear, you know that you’ll stand before the wolf time and time again to protect the poor rabbit.

Before things can get even more heated, you grab Eunha and make a dash towards the exit, knocking over a few people in the process. Even so, you don’t stop running until the cool air of the outside bites at your cheeks.

“Shit,” you pant, leaning against the wall of a neighboring building to catch your breath. “Are you ok—”

Eunha wraps her arms around you, pressing her face into your chest. Every breath she takes quivers like the last leaf on a dying tree, desecrated by a furious storm. All you can do is hold her, trying to provide some ounce of comfort as she sobs in your arms.

The world is cruel to you, a fact you came to terms with long ago. It’s stolen many of the things you held dear, leaving you to cling to the pieces left behind and try to rebuild your life out of nothing. You built walls, avoided people entirely, did everything you could do so you never have to feel that kind of pain again. And after all that, you’re left to simply exist. Survive. Not ‘live’ in the way people somehow wake up with the sun and breathe in the dawn of a new day with hope in their hearts. Just be.

And then Eunha came into your life, walking into the doors of the convenience store with her bubbly smile and boundless energy. All the time you’ve worked alongside her, listening to her greet every single customer with such enthusiasm, enduring her brutally honest criticisms of your personality, succumbing to her demands every time she flashes those damn eyes at you, she’s made you look at life differently, whether you liked it or not. She didn’t even have to chip away at your walls at all—you tore them down yourself and built a grand entrance into your soul just for her. Because you wanted to. Because you like the way she smiles like nothing bad could ever happen, you like how she manages to find the good in everything and everyone, and you like that she still wants to talk to you despite your brick wall of a personality.

To see her like this, breaking down in your arms, on her birthday of all days, is nothing short of soul crushing.

“Thank you for that,” Eunha murmurs, her voice tiny and fragile. “Um, can we go?”

“Sure,” you reply in a calming tone. “Where to?”

“Anywhere but here.”

The two of you wander the streets in silence, nothing but the muffled hum of faraway chatter and the occasional car passing by to keep you company. She stays deathly quiet, a state you’ve never seen her in. With everything that just happened, you don’t blame her, but you can’t help but feel chills at her solemn expression. It’s like the sun’s gone dark, leaving the whole world in a forever winter.

You pass by a 7/11, not thinking much of it, but Eunha stops underneath its glowing sign. “...You wanna drink?” she asks, giving you a small yet hopeful smile.

Alcohol is probably the last thing either of you need at the moment, yet you find yourself nodding anyway. It’s hard saying no to that face.

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Time ticks by at a pace more glacial than the frigid winds buffeting you as Eunha chugs down her second can of cheap beer, crumpling it in her hands as if to release all her pent up emotions inside. On a normal day, you would’ve found it a little funny, maybe even cute, to think that the living embodiment of a summer day has inner turmoil that she can only externalize through the crushing of an aluminum can. But on tonight of all nights, the shrill crunch becomes a harsh reminder that life’s cruelty shows no mercy.

“Are you okay?” you utter, unable to move your gaze from the ground. Of course it’s a stupid question—who would be okay after almost getting assaulted?—but, it’s a start, if anything.

“Um… I don’t know.” Her despondent voice is punctuated by the metallic crash of aluminum against concrete. “Do you want the short version or the long version?”

“I have time.”

Eunha inhales deeply, letting the chilling winds of the night fill her lungs, before breathing it back out into the elements. “No. I’m not okay, and I haven’t been for a long time. I know, it sounds a bit dramatic, but it’s just…” she sighs, “It’s just how I feel.”

“I don’t think you’re being dramatic at all,” you reassure her, earning an appreciative grin in response.

“Um… God, I really don’t know where to start with this,” she says, her face falling into her hands. “School has been kicking my ass lately, which isn’t that big of an issue in the shitstorm that is my life, but it’s there. Last week, one of my professors chewed me out for accidentally submitting the wrong file for an assignment, so I spent the entire day just crying in bed.” A small laugh leaves her nose at the fact, void of any humor.

“And then my friends. They’re great and I love them with all my heart, but they can be such a handful.” With each word, she sinks deeper and deeper into herself as the burden she’s been silently carrying threatens to end her. “Sowon—the tall one that paid for the table—she has a reputation for sleeping around campus, which is fine, I’m not gonna tell her what she can and can’t do with her own body. But her life is filled with so much drama, and I end up having to play therapist for her, and it just gets so exhausting.”

You nod in understanding, keeping silent as she spills out her grievances. It’s not a pleasant sight, but pain rarely is. This image that she’s built up for herself as this happy-go-lucky fairy of a person, the image that you’ve consumed without question because doing otherwise would be like the sky falling around you, tears itself down to reveal the ugly truth underneath: That she’s human. And all humans suffer, even the ones that you wish didn’t.

“You remember the night I came into work with my hair dyed?” she asks after a long pause, her gaze fixated on the crumpled can below. “I broke up with my boyfriend that morning. I just… couldn’t handle all the hurt and neglect anymore, so I left.”

The revelation comes as a shock to you, even if all the signs were there in hindsight. “I’m sorry to hear that,” you offer, nervously fidgeting with the tiny box in your pocket.

“Y’know, he always hated when I dyed my hair. Said I looked like a slut whenever I did it.” The word sounds so crass against her gentle voice, like a grisly wound on unblemished skin. You feel an unfamiliar anger boiling inside of you at the notion that someone would even think to hurt her.

“And with how things turned out tonight, maybe he was right—”

“Hey,” you lightly interject. “I don’t think you look like… that at all.”

Her dejection cracks a little, giving way to a small smile accompanied by the faint hum of a chuckle. “Thanks. Maybe if that other guy thought the same as you, I wouldn’t feel like this.”

With a deep breath, you retrieve the small box from your pocket and hand it to her. “Here.”

“What’s this?” Eunha takes the box from your hand, her brow raised in curiosity.

“Your birthday present. It’s not much, but… yeah. It’s not much.”

Tentatively, she opens it up, revealing a necklace with a rabbit pendant hanging from it. Her face lights up, and for a moment, you forget that she was ever sad in the first place. A newfound sense of determination wells within you, and something that you’ve kept hidden deep inside finally comes to light: you would do anything to protect that smile.

“This is so cute, I love it!” she remarks, fiddling with the chain as she tries and fails to put it on. “Uh, a little help?”

“Sure.” You take the necklace from her, and as she pulls up her hair to reveal the delicate skin of her neck, your hands begin to tremor nervously, making it nearly impossible to secure the necklace.

“Is everything alright back there?” she teases. “I can feel you shaking.”

“Y-yeah, no, it’s fine.” The stutter in your voice dashes any attempts at trying to sound natural. It’s a simple act, putting a necklace around your friend, but something about it feels so intimate, like the first hint of warmth after a long and arduous storm. Once you finally secure the clasp in place, a breath you didn’t know you were holding empties from your lungs.

“Thanks,” she says, admiring the rabbit pendant. “Thanks for everything, really.”

“I didn’t do much.”

“But you did something,” she reasons, her voice lilting with an air of melancholy, “You did a lot more than anyone else ever did for me.”

Eunha’s eyes wander upwards to the stars, the same ones you’ve spent nearly every night under, listening to her talk about everything and nothing all at once. Tiny blips of light a billion miles away, the only witnesses to your midnight conversations about the mundanities of life. To them, your little exchange of words seems small and meaningless, but to you, these talks with her mean everything.

“I’ll make sure to pay you back one day,” Eunha utters.

There’s no need. Your existence is more than enough.

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In a past life, you used to curse how consistently time seems to move without regard for anything else. After one of the worst nights of your life, how dare the sun have the audacity to rise up in the morning like your whole world hasn’t just collapsed? The lights peaking through your blinds felt like a big “fuck you” from the world. Everyone struggles, get over yourself, you lazy prick. Before you realized it, the negativity took up every corner of your mind, constant noise rattling around your head every second of your existence, bleeding into the nights that seemed endless as you could do nothing but stare at the ceiling.

But nowadays, those thoughts seem so long ago, like a vague memory. Maybe it hasn’t gotten easier to sleep, but it’s quieter now. Peaceful, even. It barely even occurred to you how much time has passed since then until a certain coworker of yours decides to remind you.

“Happy birthday!” Eunha pops up from behind the counter, donning a dingy party hat and holding a cupcake with a single lit candle embedded in it.

“H-huh? W-what—”

“Make a wish!” She pushes the cupcake in your face, a potential fire hazard if your hair was just an inch longer. Confused by the sudden onslaught, all you can do is stand there like an idiot, eyes tracing over the silly hat adorning her rosy head. It’s cute though.

“It’s your birthday, right?” Eunha pouts, reading your confused expression. “Or did the calendar lie to me?”

You pause for a moment, running the numbers in your head as you try to remember how much time has passed. “Right,” you utter, not quite meeting her eyes. “Yeah, it’s my birthday.” Without another word, you grab a broom and begin sweeping as a couple approaches the store, hoping their impending presence will get your mind off the topic. With how life has been going these past few years, it’s getting harder and harder to find a reason to celebrate.

Was. 

The gentle chime of the entrance rings throughout the store, yet Eunha’s cheerful greeting that usually follows is hauntingly absent, you nearly greet the customers yourself just to fill the unusual silence. Before you can check to see if she’s alright, you’re interrupted by a male voice.

“Hey, you know where the beers are?” the guy asks. You silently gesture towards the fridges, taking the opportunity to eye the couple. The girl seems generally unremarkable, not unlike the usual customer at this hour, but something about the guy feels oddly familiar, despite his face not matching anyone in your recent memory. Something about the way he drapes his arm carelessly over the girl like she’s an accessory rather than a person, or the way he doesn’t even bother to look through the tiny store for more than two seconds before asking for the answer just pisses you off. 

“Thanks, pal,” he says, clapping your shoulder in a way that feels anything but friendly as he passes by. Out of all the expletives, middle fingers, and death threats that have been thrown your way by people far worse than this guy, none of them have managed to strike such an anger-inducing chord with you as that simple pat on your shoulder. But why?

You look over at the counter to check on Eunha, only to find a lone cupcake and a party hat peeking out from behind it. “Are you alright?” you ask, brows furrowed as you peer over the counter at her. All you receive in response is a panicked look and a harsh “Shhh!”.

“Hey pal, can you ring me— Eunha?” The two of them lock eyes in some weird staring contest, while you and his girlfriend or whoever she is are left completely out of the loop. You glance back and forth between them, trying to gain some semblance of understanding in their eyes for what feels like an eternity, until it finally clicks in your head.

The hint of familiarity despite never meeting him and the abundance of bad vibes he exudes all make sense — he’s Eunha’s ex-boyfriend.

You hastily scan his pack of beers and his box of condoms. “$20.55.”

“Why don’t you go wait outside for me, babe?” you hear him whisper to his new girl, unashamedly staring at her backside as she saunters out of the store. Eunha sighs, standing up from her hiding spot and leaving the party hat to dangle sadly in between her fingertips.

“So,” he continues, not even sparing you a single glance, “You’re still working in this shit hole?”

“Yup,” she replies, gaze glued to the floor. “Gotta pay rent somehow.”

He scoffs. “If you just come back to me—”

“I’m sorry, what the fuck?” You freeze at her sudden outburst, not used to this side of her. “Are you seriously asking me to come crawling back to you after everything you fucking did!?”

“Look, babe—”

“Don’t fucking ‘babe’ me, you asshole!” Her breath starts to get heavier as tears well up in her eyes and her fingers turn white around the dainty string of the party hat. “And don’t you have a new girlfriend anyway!? What the hell is wrong with you!?”

“What, you mean her?” His head flings back in a guttural laugh at the insinuation that he would find himself in a committed relationship with his “new girl”. Hell, if things weren’t so tense, you would be laughing at that idea too. “She’s just who I’m banging for tonight since you fucking left!”

“For fuck’s sake,” she groans, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Just pay for your shit and leave. Please.”

He scoffs. “Quit being a fucking bitch and—”

“If you leave now, I’ll let you have everything for free,” you interject, each breath heavy and quivering with anger. For the first time since this whole altercation, he acknowledges your presence and simply scoffs, eyeing the two of you back and forth. With a smirk, he grabs his things off the counter and backs away, chuckling to himself like there’s some kind of inside joke that neither you nor Eunha are a part of. As the door chime rings to signal his exit, you hear the huff of a harsh syllable underneath his breath that turns the next few moments into a vague blur.

“Slut.”

You’ve never considered yourself to be particularly athletic—average at best, but still decent enough to not be picked last during childhood games. Yet, as you grab the cupcake from the counter and haphazardly chuck it through the air, you swear that Shohei Ohtani himself would’ve been impressed at the accuracy of your pitch as it arcs perfectly and splatters against the back of that asshole’s head. You freeze in disbelief of your own actions, barely registering the pink frosting-covered look of rage stomping towards you.

Eunha pulls you out of the doorway and quickly locks the door before pulling you into the break room, away from the view of the windows. Banging glass and muffled expletives are soon replaced by the monotonous whir of the fluorescents as she shuts the door behind her.

“Oh my god, are you insane?!” Eunha exclaims, trying and failing to suppress a grin.

“I-I, uh… I don’t know. Probably.” A breathy chuckle escapes your lips. And then another one. Soon, you’re keeling over the floor in laughter, replaying the impact of the cupcake over and over in your head.

A second chorus of laughter mixes with yours in a symphony of hysterics as Eunha joins you on the floor. Your head starts to ache and your stomach grows sore, but the first bout of genuine joy you feel after years of nothing but cold isolation overpowers any kind of pain. 

Being here, in this moment with her, is the best birthday gift you’ve ever received.

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Even after the clock passes midnight and your birthday officially ends, Eunha still insists on doing something to celebrate. That sweet piece of payback against her ex was more than enough for you, but as always, it’s hard to say no when her eyes light up with so much excitement.

You wait in the solitude of your living room, with nothing but Yokai to pass the time. He purrs contently on your lap, being oddly well-behaved for once. Maybe he knows Eunha is coming and is in a better mood than usual. Are black cats telepathic?

As if on cue, he jumps off your lap and scurries towards the front door, a millisecond before a barrage of knocks and a muffled “Ayo!” sound off from the other side. It doesn’t take a genius to know who the owner of that voice is.

“Surprise!” Eunha exclaims, balancing a store-bought cake and a champagne bottle in her arms. 

“I’m not sure if it counts as a surprise if I know that you’re coming,” you joke, taking the contents from her arms.

“Yeah yeah, whatever you say, birthday boy.” Yokai impatiently nuzzles his head against Eunha’s leg, practically begging for her attention. “Well, hello again, cutie! Did you miss me?”

He purrs in response to getting showered by Eunha’s affection. You place the cake on the dining table and peer curiously at the champagne bottle, only to find the words “Sparkling Apple Cider” written in fancy gold lettering.

“Apple Cider?” you question.

“Yeah,” Eunha responds. “Did you want actual champagne or…?”

“No no, this is great.” You flash her a reassuring grin, which she returns in kind, punctuated by the cute swell of her cheeks.

“Phew, I’m glad. I thought I read you wrong for a second.” She plops comfortably onto your couch like she’s been to your apartment a thousand times before, Yokai swiftly taking his place onto her lap. “So, what do you usually do for your birthday?”

“Nothing, really,” you sheepishly admit. “If it wasn’t for you, I probably wouldn’t have remembered it was today.”

“Whaaat? That’s no fun.”

“Yeah, well…”

You trail off as the ghosts of your past come back to haunt you. Each year, the faces around the table seemed to become fewer and fewer until it was just you and the cat. Eventually, you just stopped bothering with it. It’s just another day, indiscernible from every other one. Sure, you could go on about why no one bothered to contact you, but It’s not like you’re completely blameless—why didn’t you reach out? Every night spent with your eyes forcibly pried open, you basically had all the time in the world to one, single message to anyone. And yet, you didn’t.

It’s your fault alone that things ended up this way.

You feel a soft pair of hands suddenly wrap around yours, forcibly pulling you out of the black hole in your mind that threatened to envelop you.

“Why don’t we make this one extra special then?” Without waiting for you to answer, Eunha pulls you towards the kitchen and pushes you down into a chair.

“What are you doing?” you ask, confused yet charmed by her usual antics.

“Just wait a sec,” she says, rummaging through your cupboards like a mouse looking for cheese. You watch in amused silence as she searches through every nook and cranny for… whatever it is that she needs. You can’t quite wrap your head around why she’s going through all of this effort, in the dead of night, for you of all people. You’re just her coworker in a dingy little convenience store.

Although, it’s hard not to feel insanely lucky when she turns to you with that impossibly bright smile that only you get the luxury of seeing.

“Okay, here we go!” Eunha exclaims, taking the plastic lid off of the cake and fiddling with a single match.

You tilt your head curiously. “Is that a—”

“I forgot to get candles and this is all that you have, alright?” she playfully snaps at you. Finally, once the match is lit, she places it gingerly in the center of the cake. “Make a wish, birthday boy!”

As you gaze into the small, singular flame before you, it dawns on you that you have no idea what to wish for. Money? A bigger house? The ability to have a good night’s sleep? Blowing out a silly little candle isn’t going to magically change your life overnight, no matter what the occasion is.

But as you look past the flame, you see Eunha gleaming back at you, waiting with bated breath for you to make that wish. The passion, the excitement, the hope swirling around in just her eyes alone sends a wave of warmth throughout your body that seeps deep into the fibers of your bones. A wish finally forms inside of your head.

You blow out the match, extinguishing the flame and letting your wish float into the air along with the smoke.

“Woohoo!” Eunha cheers. “What did you wish for?”

Heat rushes to your cheeks as you suddenly feel sheepish under her gaze. “I-I, uh—”

“Wait, don’t tell me!” she frantically interjects. “I forgot, if you say your wish out loud, it won’t come true!”

A chuckle brushes past your lips. If there’s even a tiny chance that what she said is true, then you’ll gladly take a vow of silence just to keep your wish close to your heart.

Eunha cuts two generous slices of cakes for the both of you while you pour the sparkling cider into mismatched mugs - the only drinkware you have that even comes remotely close to fitting the occasion. Your apartment becomes enveloped in a comfortable silence, save for Yokai’s content purring on the couch and an occasional “Mmm” from Eunha in-between mouthfuls.

As you peer to the side, you notice a small glob of frosting on the corner of her lips. “You have a little something here,” you chuckle, gesturing to the area. She tries to wipe it off, but somehow completely misses the mark.

“No, it’s still there,” you say, unable to hold back a smirk at her failed attempt. Without thinking, you reach out and gently wipe the frosting from the corner of her mouth with your thumb. The soft warmth of her cheek sends a jolt through your body, and only then do you realize just how close you are. Her eyes widen slightly in surprise, but she doesn’t pull away. For a moment, time seems to stand still as you gaze into the deep obsidian of her irises, your thumb still lingering on her lips.

Eunha’s cheeks flush a rosy pink that mimics her hair, and you quickly retract your hand, clearing your throat awkwardly. “Um, got it,” you mutter, avoiding her gaze.

“Thanks,” she says softly, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

The air between you feels charged, as if closing the distance even a little bit would shock you. You steal a glance at her and find her doing the same, quickly turning away after a mere whisper of eye contact. For that split second, you notice her eyes shimmering with an emotion that you can’t quite place. The silence stretches on, growing heavier with unspoken words.

Eunha breaks the tension first with a soft chuckle. “So, uh, how was your birthday? Sorry I couldn’t do much more than this.”

“N-no, it’s fine. I thought it was great, actually,” you admit, a small grin tugging at your lips.

“Yeah?” she says, beaming at you. “I’m glad.”

“Me too.”

She stands up and begins to gather her things. “I should probably head home now. It’s getting—well, I guess it’s already late.”

A pang of disappointment hits your chest. “Right.”

Each step feels like you’re wearing cinder blocks as you walk her to the front door. Yokai perks up from his spot at the couch, mimicking your own feelings of panic as Eunha nears the exit. Why are you acting like this? You’ll see her at work tomorrow. Despite your attempts at rationalizing, the growing urge to stop her is becoming harder and harder to ignore.

As she takes a step outside of your apartment, she turns to you. For a moment, she simply gazes into your eyes. You can’t quite read them—it’s hard when you’re too distracted by how unbelievably pretty they are—but it feels like she’s waiting. Waiting for you to say something, maybe? With the thumping of your heart growing louder in your ears, the ability to focus suddenly becomes an uphill battle.

“I, uh, I had fun tonight.”

You take a breath. “Y-yeah, me too.”

“I guess I’ll see you at work then?” Her voice lilts up, as if she’s asking a question. A loaded question, even. An answer sits on the tip of your tongue, desperately waiting to be heard by her ears. Just a couple words, and yet it feels like overlooking a cliff with no end in sight. A free fall into new, terrifying territory.

But, as you’ve learned time and time again, it’s hard saying no to that face.

“A-actually,” you begin, your voice almost getting caught in your throat, “it’s late and it might be unsafe tonight, so… I was wondering… do you want to stay the night?”

If you had more than just pure adrenaline pushing you forward, you could’ve probably used a better choice of words. Something smoother and less uncertain. Something more charming, as Eunha would put it. But all of these thoughts sink to the back of your mind when you’re suddenly attacked by the softest lips you’ve ever had the pleasure of experiencing. Like muscle memory, your hands wrap around Eunha’s delicate waist, gently pushing her into the door until it shuts with an audible click. 

All the second guessing, the worrying, the negativity, everything is completely thrown out the window as you sink into her lips. You let yourself get lost in her touch, pulling her close to you like she’s your matching puzzle piece. In the midst of needy touching and sharp breaths, a wave of calmness washes over you. Like all of this is meant to be.

“W-wait…” Eunha gently pushes you off of her, worry filling her expression.

“What’s wrong?” you ask. “Do you not want thi—”

“I do want this. I want you, more than you could ever imagine, but I just…” she sighs, her grip on your shoulders weakening slightly. “I really like working at the store and talking to you every night and feeling like my life isn’t a constant trainwreck. I need that consistency in my life. If we do this, no matter what happens tonight, I need you to promise me that nothing will change between us.”

She looks up at you with desperate, pleading eyes. You know, probably more than anyone, just how much pain she holds inside, invisible to the outside world. The two of you are alike in that way. The only difference is that she kept on trying to live despite her scars, while you stopped trying because of them.

“I’m not a perfect person by any means,” you start softly, gently caressing her cheek. “Before I met you, I felt like I was barely even human. I was just a body without a soul, wandering aimlessly. But then, you changed all that.”

Eunha sinks her face into your hand, peering at you with those damn eyes. You’ve seen them light up like fireworks during her highest highs and pour like a perilous storm during her lowest lows, but you’ve never once seen them completely empty, void of any emotion. For once, you feel hope that things can get better, and she is the living, breathing reason why.

“Whenever I’m with you, nights don’t feel as cold and the stars seem to shine brighter than I thought was possible,” you continue. “Breathing becomes easier and I laugh harder than I ever have before. Life doesn’t just become bearable—it becomes enjoyable. And that’s all because of you.”

As your words linger in the gap between lips, you feel the haze that clouded your mind for so long finally lift, making way for light to shine through. A pure, warming light with pink hair and porcelain skin and cheeks like puffed up marshmallows.

“I take back everything I said before,” Eunha says with a smirk. “That was the most charming thing I’ve ever heard.”

Before you even have time to roll your eyes, she’s kissing you again with a newfound passion. You’re quick to follow her lead, running your hands over the curves she’s been hiding underneath her work uniform and taking mental notes of the spots that produce a cute moan. Each sensation feels like a spark of lightning being shot through your veins, driving your every movement. You want—no, need to please this woman, show her exactly just how much she means to you.

With all the adrenaline in your system, you end up pinning Eunha against the front door with an audible thud. “Someone’s eager to get things going,” she teases, short-breathed and rosy-cheeked.

“How can I not be when you’re so—”

“MRRAAOOOUWWWW!!!” Yokai cries out, his yellow eyes full of judgement as he looks at your crude display of affection from the couch. Attention whore.

Eunha chuckles. “Maybe we should—”

“Abso-fucking-lutely.” 

You take her hand and practically drag her to the privacy of your bedroom, her excited giggles trailing behind you. As soon as the door shuts behind you, Eunha is already laying on your bed, resting comfortably as if it were her own.

“Got room for one more?” you quip.

“If it’s you, definitely.”

With an easy smile, you make your way towards her, fingers grazing up her thighs to her toned stomach and around the sensuous curve of her bosom before resting right next to her head. The moonlight peaking through the window illuminates her eyes, allowing you to see the passion and the neediness aimed directly at you.

“You’re so beautif—mmf!“

Eunha suddenly claps her hand over your mouth. “Listen, you’re very cute, but I desperately need you to take my clothes off. Now please.”

You waste no more time, diving into the crook of her neck and producing a yelp from her throat as you pepper it with kisses. Excitedly, your hands slip under her shirt to massage her full breasts. You’d be lying if you said you never imagined it would be like to cup her breasts, but actually getting to feel them in your hand is a different sensation entirely. So soft yet so firm, and perfectly bouncy. By the noises she’s making, it’s safe to assume that she’s enjoying this just as much as you are.

Eunha reaches down and strokes the outline of your cock through your jeans, her movements fueled by a primal lust. “Oh my god, I can already tell you’re so much bigger than my ex. Please, I need you inside me right fucking now,” she begs, already fidgeting with your belt.

You chuckle, not used to her lovely voice spewing out such heinous demands. Whatever the princess wants, she’ll get.

Loose clothing begins to decorate your room while a symphony of pleasurable cries and wrinkling fabric accompanies the scene. Moonlight casts shadows on your walls, depicting the beautiful act of debauchery taking place. This room, which only harbors memories of dreadfully sleepless nights, becomes a haven for you and Eunha to begin something new and wonderful.

“Can’t believe I almost let Yuju have all of this for herself,” she giggles, eyeing your length as it nears her dripping sweetness. 

You lean down to briefly take her lips in yours, running your hands over her now unclothed body, bare in all its glory. “I don’t wanna think about any woman other than you right now,” you say in a low, growly tone.

“Mmm, good answer.” Eunha abruptly wraps her legs around your waist. “Now fuck me, birthday boy.”

Your cock drags against her folds, lubricating it with her juices. You feel her shiver underneath you as you lightly graze against her clit. She’s so beautiful. Completely exposed and vulnerable, all for you. With a single movement of your hips, you enter her honeypot, the two of you sharing a moan as the tip slides in. 

“Shit,” you groan, drawing in a heavy breath, “We forgot a condom—”

“We work at a convenience store, we can just get a Plan B tomorrow!!” Eunha snaps before donning an apologetic look. “Sorry, I just mean—”

You interrupt her with a peck on the lips, smirking at her. “I know what you meant. I’ll shut up now.”

Pure instinct takes over as you begin to buck your hips into her, years of pent up energy and the desire to make her feel loved fueling each thrust. The crescendo of her voice every time your bodies meet is a tune like no other, and you do everything in your power just to hear that noise again and again and again and again. Sink your fingers into the meaty flesh of her thighs, lap at her perky tits, pin her arms over her head so her only choice is to succumb to the overwhelming sensation of lust.

“Perfect” doesn’t even begin to properly describe Eunha. From her bubblegum optimism that managed to melt your cold heart to the velvety tightness of her pussy as she takes you in so fucking well, there aren’t enough words in existence to explain just how much she means to you. So instead, you do your best to deliver the message through every movement. The fire in your pelvis as you fuck her heat, the soreness of your tongue as you worship every inch of her body, everything you do is testament into making sure she knows just how much you mean to her.

Love her in a way that her ex could never do.

Love her until all the pain and suffering she went through is forgotten.

Love her the way you’ve been unknowingly aching for her since the moment you laid eyes on her. Repay her for all that she’s done just by existing.

“K-keep going! Just like that!” she groans, the grip of her pussy tightening with each second. You do as she says, fucking her at the pace that she likes and hitting every spot that produces that oh-so-pretty noise from her lips. With how amazing she feels, it’s becoming increasingly difficult to ignore the building feeling in the pit of your stomach.

“Eunha…”

She grabs your face, forcing you to look at hers. “Inside me, baby. Please. I need to feel you. I want to feel you.” She peers at you with those eyes, glimmering with the light of a full moon, and pleads for you to stay inside her. How silly. Why would you beg when I would give you the whole world at the drop of a hat?

In one final thrust, you climax in her arms, wave after wave of pleasure rushing through you. Eunha shoves her face into the crook of your neck, a guttural moan escaping her lips as she experiences her own orgasm. Months of working alongside her and getting to know her, culminating into a beautiful moment of release for the both of you—and this is only the beginning.

“H-holy… shit…” Eunha pants, tracing lazy circles on your shoulder. “That was… better than I could have ever imagined.”

“Are you saying you’ve imagined this before?” you tease.

“What, you think I’m gonna work with someone that’s as sweet and as awkwardly-cute as you and not occasionally think about fucking him?” she retorts with a smirk. 

We sat side by side on the old wooden swings that summer. The air smelled like dirt and rain, and I could still remember the sound of the rusted chains creaking softly with every small movement, a sound that usually comforted me but suddenly felt more like a countdown.

She held a small ice cream cone, drips of milky green already racing down the sides from the humid summer heat. “Is it because they ran out of your favorite flavor?” she asked, chasing after the streaks. “I told you, vanilla is boring anyway. You need to expand your palate a little, you know. We’re not in 6th grade anymore.”

I didn’t answer. I couldn’t even look at her. The world felt too heavy. Too loud.

“Wonbin-ah,” she said, quieter this time. “Really… is something wrong?”

I stared at the ground, at the specks of sand mixed with stubborn blades of grass pushing up through the dirt.

“Would you miss me when you become famous one day?” I managed to ask.

“Huh?” She chuckled. “Why would I have to miss you?”

“I don’t know. Maybe we’ll be far apart and you won’t have time to see me anymore.”

“I see what’s happening here.” She swung her legs a little higher. “You’re making yourself stressy-depressy imagining what kind of celebrity I’d be.”

“I guess.”

“Dummy.” She bumped her shoulder lightly against me. “You think I’ll be some kind of diva or something? I’ll always have time for you no matter how famous I am. And we’ll never be far apart! We’ll be a package deal. If I ever make it to the top, you’ll be right next to me. That’s what best friends do.”

She smiled to herself, already carried away by the thought of her dreams coming true. “I have it all planned out already. I’ll give you my first autograph ever—and it’ll be worth millions one day, so don’t lose it—and you’ll sit front row at my first stage. And if I ever go on tour, I’ll make sure you’re my manager—and if you’re not qualified, you can be the guy who carries my bags.”

A single tear dripped down the side of my face. “I don’t want to carry your stupid bags,” I whispered, trying my best not to let my voice crack.

“Too bad! It’s in the Won-won contract,” she said, slurping the dripping ice cream. “We’re going to the same high school, aren’t we? You’ll come to all my evaluations, right? Oh, and we’re gonna score—”

“I’m moving to Singapore next week,” I blurted out.

The screech of the chains stopped abruptly.

I couldn’t face her. All I did was stare at the ground, watching the tiny patch of grass beneath our feet get splattered by mint chocolate ice cream.

“W-what?” she whispered. “H-hey, Park Wonbin—d-don’t joke like that—it’s not funny—”

“I’m not joking,” I said, my throat tightening until it hurt. “My dad got promoted. We’re leaving next week.”

“For how long? For the summer? Like a vacation, right? You’ll come back, won’t you?”

“No.” I shook my head, tears finally stinging my eyes. “For good.”

I waited for her to yell at me. To tell me to fix it. To tell me I wasn’t allowed to go.

But she didn’t.

“You said you’d help me practice for my performance next month,” she murmured, more to herself than me.

“I know.”

“And you said we’d go to the mid-autumn festival this year.”

“I know, Wonyo—”

“You promised!” she cried, her voice cracking. “You promised you’d be next to me forever, Park Wonbin!”

When I finally dared to look up, she was already standing. But she didn’t say anything. She just turned and ran—away from the swings, away from me.

Tears hit my knees like rain, to the rhythm of her footsteps fading into the distance.

That week, Wonyoung was nowhere to be found. I had thought that by telling her, our last days together would be more memorable—that we’d spend every second clinging to each other.

Instead, they didn’t exist.

I spent my final week in Seoul searching for her, walking the same streets we always did, checking the same corners she always hid behind while waiting for me, hoping to catch even a glimpse of her ponytail disappearing ahead of me, just one more time.

I never saw it.

Why are you always running from me, Jang Wonyoung?

Why am I always the one chasing you, even after all these years?

Why do I always have to ask, ‘Where are you?’.

No matter which corners of the world I end up in, you’re always so out of reach.

And even when you’re in the same time and place as me, I can never find you.

Hell was neither a fiery pit of flames nor a cold, dark abyss. It was constantly chasing a love that would never wait for you. It was being trapped in an empty room with buried memories replaying over and over.

It was living a nightmare you couldn’t wake up from.

“Wake up, Adam.” A woman’s voice vibrated through my entire body, almost as if it were coming from inside my own skull.

My eyes slowly opened again. The room was empty aside from the numerous paintings on the black walls that must have been worth millions of dollars.

“Your heart rate is spiking quite high,” it continued, calm and surprisingly gentle. “Try to take a few deep breaths.”

I looked around again to find the source. There were no visible speakers, and not a single other person was there with me.

Am I hallucinating from whatever they put over my face? Or did I finally lose it?

“Who are you?” I said into the nothingness.

“You had me worried for a moment there,” she responded. The sound was incredibly low, almost like a breath against the back of my neck, but there was only a wall behind me.

I’m going insane. There’s literally no one here.

“Where are you?” I asked, just for the hell of it.

“On your wrist.”

I froze.

“You’re a watch?” I asked, looking down at the Rolex that John had given me before we entered the auction, watching closely as it ticked innocently under the dim lights.

And then everything finally clicked.

“No, that would be absurd,” she said, chuckling. “As far as I know, watches can’t speak—and I’d like to think I know quite a lot.”

“Then what are you?”

“My name is Krystal, I’m a proprietary Artificial General Intelligence assistant developed by John Song at Mindsense Systems. You’re wearing a prototype of our newest neural-link wearable.”

What? AGI? Neural-link? Mindsense Systems? Is that what John and the guys do for a living? Or am I dreaming?

“So you’re not real?”

“That would depend on what you consider real,” she said, casually. “I’m not a person, but I certainly exist.”

“I don’t get it, how are you communicating with me? You said you’re in the watch, but it feels like you’re in my head instead.”

“Have you heard of bone conduction? The device is transmitting frequency vibrations through your carpal bones, traveling up your arm and directly into your cochlea. In other words, no one else can hear me.”

I stared at the watch, making sure once more that I wasn’t just imagining all of this from brain damage.

“I’m just going to believe everything you say, you know that, right?” I said, pressing into my temples. “I don’t have it in me to question the physics you’re throwing at me.”

“Good, because we don’t have time for a science lesson. You’re kind of in danger, if you haven’t noticed.”

“I noticed the moment we walked in this building—wait—is Yujin okay?” I sat up abruptly.

“Don’t worry, your wife is unharmed for now.”

“She’s not my—never mind.”

“Oh, I apologize. Human relationships are sometimes too complex for me to understand.”

Everything started flooding back to me—the auction, Yujin, John, James, Jake, Sora, and even Minju. “Where is she? Do you know?”

“She’s still in this building. I can track her vitals and location via the sensors in her earrings,” Krystal continued. “But you need to focus and work with me here. I’m currently scanning your surroundings and encrypting all visual and audio data back to headquarters. For the time being, John requests that you do not resist anyone who enters that door.”

I glanced at said door. It hadn’t moved. Yet.

“Is John still at the auction? Is he okay?”

“Yes, but I can’t initiate a direct connection between the two of you.” She paused, as if a machine understood hesitance. “If you want to make it out of here, it’s important that you listen to everything they tell you to do.”

A bitter laugh escaped my lips. “So the plan is to comply with the enemy?”

“The plan is to stay alive,” she corrected.

I finally took a deep breath and leaned against the cold wall behind me. “And what are the chances they’ll spare my life if I do?”

“About 35.25%,” she said immediately, “based on the predictive simulations I just ran.”

I sighed softly. “That’s not very comforting.”

“It’s the best we’ve got. Resistance drops your survival rate to 18.50%.”

“Great. Thanks for the update.”

“I’ll let you know if the probability drops further.”

“Please don’t.”

A soft alert hummed through my wrist—barely perceptible, but my body reacted instantly, as if it seeped right into my soul.

“Sensors indicate that someone’s coming,” she said. “Remember, just go along with whatever they tell you to do. We’re working on a rescue plan.”

I swallowed, forcing my breathing steady. “I’m sure you’ll know exactly when I’m dead.”

“I very much do not look forward to that.”

The latch clicked.

“Good luck, Adam.”

The door slowly creaked open. A sliver of light spilled across the floor before the man in the silver mask stepped through.

“You’re awake,” he said, looking down at his own watch. “Just in time for the next round.”

“Where’s Yujin?” I asked immediately, pushing off the wall before I could stop myself.

He tilted his head as if studying an insect pinned beneath glass. “Relax, your little girlfriend is safe and sound. For now.”

My fists curled at my sides, nails biting deep into my palms. “If you lay even one finger on her, I’ll—”

“God, you sound just like him,” he spat, clicking his tongue. “You two jokers are so irritating. Always threatening. Always playing the hero. Always assigning yourselves the moral high ground like it’s some kind of birthright. Tell me, where has spending your entire life holier-than-thou gotten either of you?”

“Adam, let’s tone it down a bit,” Krystal said. “This person can be dangerous if pushed.”

I slowly unclenched my jaw. “How do you know John?”

The man laughed—a soft, almost nostalgic sound. “It’s really a long story. You don’t wanna know.”

“Where is Choi Mingyu?” I pressed. “What did you do with him?”

He stepped closer, shoes cracking quietly against the marble floor. “You know, you’ve got an awful lot of questions for someone who broke into a private event, bypassed multiple security layers, and got himself captured.”

But before I could respond, the door behind him opened again—this time abruptly.

Footsteps entered the room, and another guard shoved someone through the doorway, one gloved hand fisted in the back of his suit collar.

The man in the silver mask smiled. “Ah. Speak of the devil.”

Choi Mingyu stumbled forward, nearly losing his footing before catching himself. His hair was a mess, his jacket wrinkled, and there was a line of sweat along his temple.

“Choi Mingyu,” he flared his arms wide mockingly. “Fancy seeing you here again. Still looking continuously disappointing as always.”

Mingyu rolled his shoulders back, forcing whatever composure he could. “I see you’re still his right hand man, Park Jongmin.”

“Ah yes, because unlike you, I know how to follow rules.” The man called Park Jongmin smirked, circling him in what looked like disgust. “So—what warrants risking your life by crawling back here after the King formally dismissed you? Surely this isn’t about Jang Wonyoung still?”

Mingyu jerked his chin toward me. “I brought him here, didn’t I?”

My stomach twisted. I almost wanted to throw up right then and there.

“Easy,” Krystal reminded, her voice humming through my flesh. “You’re spiking again.”

There was a second of silence, and then Jongmin laughed. “That’s it? You broke in and entered just to deliver… this?” He gestured lazily toward me. “Some kid?”

“That’s Park Wonbin,” Mingyu snapped. “Not just some kid—”

I couldn’t hold back anymore. It felt like every cell in my body wanted to explode.

“So this was all some sort of elaborate trap?!” I screamed. “Answer me for once in your life!”

Mingyu didn’t even flinch. “I prefer plan.”

In that moment, all I could see was a replay of Yujin’s face in that dark room begging me not to trust him.

If only I had believed her. If only I wasn’t a total fool.

“Why?” Heat flooded my cheeks like the room had somehow turned into a sauna. “Why would you do this? Why go through the trouble when you could’ve easily kidnapped me off the street?”

“Oh, we don’t really do things like that,” Park Jongmin said, waving his hand. “It’s terribly uncivilized. And not very classy.”

“Neither is owning a bunch of sex slaves!” I shot back.

“Whoa, slaves?” He laughed, more amused than shocked. “Whatever gave you that idea?”

“I don’t know—maybe the part where they’re paraded around and forced to do whatever you sick bastards want in front of a room full of masked degenerates.”

He sighed like I’d bored him. “Look, I get that you and John have that whole main character thing going on, but no one is forcing anyone to do anything. They’re performing of their own accord. Do you understand how much money they all get paid for a night like this? Literal trillions of won.”

“Not even close to a fair trade for dignity.”

His shoulders lifted in a slow shrug. “That’s not really for you to decide, but you and John wouldn’t understand that part, would you? Consent isn’t invalid just because it offends your sense of righteousness.”

Before I could answer, a soft chime echoed through the room.

Jongmin froze. Something in his posture changed. The silver mask turned slightly toward the far wall, toward a door I hadn’t even realized was there—flush with the black panels, nearly invisible.

The door slid open without a sound. No guards. No announcement. Just a man stepping inside like he owned the room.

A man I could recognize instantly.

His mask was matte black, its surface carved into the unmistakable shape of a spade, no ornamentation or flourish. It absorbed the light rather than catching it, as if the room itself bent around his presence.

He didn’t even look at me.

“I hope you have a valid reason to call me here,” the King of Spades said casually, sounding almost bored. “The show’s getting good out there.”

Jongmin straightened immediately, all amusement gone. “Apologies, Master. We just have an internal complication. Choi Mingyu and an intruder broke into our premises.”

“Ah, Choi Mingyu,” the King said, turning. “It’s been quite some time, hasn’t it? I almost forgot you existed.”

“Adam, you’re not breathing,” Krystal warned.

“You said you’ve never met him,” I exhaled, even though I wanted to scream. “That it was impossible to. You said—”

“This is Park Wonbin, Master,” Choi Mingyu said, bowing on the floor.

Only then did the King’s gaze shift to me.

“Is that right?” he hummed softly, circling me like he was inspecting a piece of art from every angle. “The infamous Park Wonbin. Here in the flesh.”

“And you must be the King of Spades,” I said, forcing my voice steady even though I was ready to explode.

“I suppose we don’t need introductions then,” he said, chuckling. “What brings you here, Park Wonbin? I never thought I’d ever meet Jang Wonyoung’s little boyfriend in person. What an honor.”

“Don’t say her name in front of me,” I warned.

The watch vibrated sharply against my wrist. “I understand that you’re angry, but may I suggest calming down? This is the last person we want to provoke.”

“Ooh, aggressive.” He smirked. “Wonnie sure has a type.”

My jaw clenched so hard it started to hurt. “Where is she?”

“Right outside,” he said casually. “You’re wearing a gold mask, surely you’ve seen her on stage.”

“Let her go.”

“Let her go where? She’s working.”

“She doesn’t want to work for you. She doesn’t want to be your slave.”

He tilted his head, but the mask blended in with the black walls behind him. “I’m genuinely curious why you think that, considering she hasn’t resigned.”

“There has to be something in your contract,” I said, forcing words out. “Some clause that you’re holding over her.”

“Is that so?” He laughed quietly under his breath. “Tell me, have you also gone to the CEO of Starship and demanded her contract to be voided there too? Because frankly, I’d dare say those conditions are much worse than ours.”

I didn’t even hesitate. “What could be worse than not being allowed to love anyone freely? ‘No boyfriends, no lovers, no sex partners’—you know the rest.”

His gaze sharpened, as if finally interested in the conversation. “You sure know a lot.”

“You made sure of it.”

One of his brows lifted behind the mask. “I did? How so?”

“Don’t play dumb like you didn’t send all of those videos to me so that I would show up here,” I snapped.

The watch vibrated again, harder. “Adam, I really must insist—”

“Videos?” the King said, voice dropping lower into something dark and almost dangerous. “What videos?”

The room went still. For a moment, it felt like oxygen had left the air.

“You’re joking, right?” The pulse in my throat started to hurt. “You emailed me every week for months and now you’re asking what videos?”

He turned his head slowly. First to Jongmin, standing still as a statue with his hands clasped in front of him. Then to Mingyu, still kneeling on the floor like a dog. Then back to me.

“You arrogant child,” he scoffed. “Not only was I unaware of your existence until very recently, do you truly think so highly of yourself to believe that I’d have the time of day to send you emails?”

My stomach dropped, like the floor had been yanked out from under me, sending me free falling straight to hell. Every video thumbnail, every wretched sound, every email notification ding and subject line tangled in my head like a film reel.

His attention slid sideways. “You. Explain.”

Mingyu’s shoulders slumped as his body curved lower onto the floor. “I needed to lure him here, Master!” he said, lowering his head, nearly touching the ground. “I thought you would’ve appreciated the initiative.”

It was like the last remaining wire holding me back suddenly snapped.

“I fucking trusted you!” I burst out, every last word burning hot in my throat. “For months, I believed you were trying to help me!”

Mingyu didn’t even look at me. “And I told you not to.”

“Adam, please. Survival rate severely dropping.”

“Let me see if I understand this.” The King of Spades exhaled slowly. “You emailed a civilian kid. Impersonating me. And then manipulated him to sneak into our private ceremony?”

He slowly lifted his head. “I thought you would’ve wanted to know who was a threat to Jang Wonyoung—”

“Threat?” The King cut in sharply, slicing through his words like a katana. “Let’s make one thing clear: Wonnie knows better than to let anything—or anyone—stand between her feelings and her duties. There is no threat. Not now. Not ever.”

“Master, please,” Mingyu pleaded. “Surely you would have wanted to at least meet him—”

“Meet Park Wonbin? And do what with him? Have a cup of tea together?”

My legs started moving before my brain could catch up. I was shaking, not from fear, but from a rage that had nowhere to go. “You’re a coward, Choi Mingyu. You’re a pathetic excuse for a man.”

“Oh, I could’ve told you that,” Jongmin said, chuckling.

The King looked at Mingyu for a moment, as if debating whether to give him one last chance to explain himself. “What exactly did you hope to get out of this?”

Mingyu swallowed and bowed again, deeper this time, like he was ready to kiss the floor. “A chance, sir.” The words trembled, but he forced them out anyway.

The King let out a soft breath through his nose. “The Society does not forgive. There are no second chances.”

“I don’t need to be reinstated,” Mingyu said quickly, hands clenching on the ground. “I’m not asking for that. I just want one chance. To be a Jack. Just once.”

I scoffed in disgust. “You said you used to be the Jack of Spades, you bastard—”

“The Jack of Spades?” Jongmin cut in, cracking into laughter. “There are so many that they get rotated out like monthly. Sometimes even faster. But handlers can never be Jacks.”

“I’m not a handler anymore,” Mingyu said, almost pleading now. “So please. Just once. Let me be a Jack for tonight.”

The King slowly stuffed his hands in his pockets, towering over him. “Choi Mingyu, let me make sure I understand this clownery.”

He took a single step closer.

“You abandoned your oath as a handler to convince my most prized Ace to burn her card because you were obsessed with her, and in turn, were formally dismissed by the Society in front of every King and Queen. Then you—what, hacked into my personal files—impersonated me by leaking confidential, private videos and disclosed classified information to a civilian to sneak him into an invite-only ceremony…”

He leaned down slightly, forcing Mingyu to look up at him.

“And now you believe you deserve to be rewarded by becoming a Jack?” His voice hardened. “For what? To finally touch my Aces?”

“Not your Aces,” Mingyu said, finally looking up. “Just her. Just Black.”

The room went cold. Every part of me was ready for blood.

“You did all of this,” the King said slowly, enunciating each syllable, “just to have a taste of Jang Wonyoung?”

“Master, please,” Mingyu’s voice cracked. His hands curled into fists on his thighs, nails digging into the fabric of his pants. “I beg of you—”

“You piece of shit!” I screamed, my voice tearing raw from my throat, echoing off the walls. “I’ll never forgive you! I’ll fucking kill you myself!”

My body moved on instinct as I lunged towards him, but the guards were faster. Thick arms wrapped around my chest and shoulders, locking me tightly in place. My shoes scraped against the floor as I fought against their grip.

The watch vibrated violently. “Adam—please—” Krystal’s voice sounded distant and distorted, drowned out by the roar in my head.

“You’ll never touch her as long as I’m still breathing!” I shouted at the top of my lungs. “Do you hear me?! Even if you get to be a Jack, I’ll kill you with my own two hands if you get anywhere near her!”

Jongmin clicked his tongue. “This is the main character energy I was talking about. It makes me sick—”

The King lifted a hand, silencing him. “Park Wonbin,” he said, sounding rather amused again. “I must admit, I like your grit. You’ve got a lot of guts walking in here—no brains, sure—but a lot of reckless courage indeed.”

Then his attention returned to Mingyu.

“Your plan was idiotic,” he continued. “But I can’t deny this is an… unexpected development.” He glanced at me again, a smirk slowly forming underneath his mask. “Park Wonbin’s presence may end up being very entertaining for us tonight.”

“Master, please,” he begged, bowing yet again. “I’ll do anything. Anything at all.”

“Anything?” he asked softly, but the softness never reached his eyes. “Would you die for her—like how our Wonbin would?”

Mingyu froze. His back stiffened, shoulders locking in place.

The silence stretched, every second feeling like a countdown to a ticking bomb.

“Yes,” he finally said, voice low, but crystal clear. “Let me have her just this once, and I’ll accept death after.”

Jongmin clicked his tongue again, this time with a hint of excitement. “Oh? Now it gets really interesting.”

The King smiled, but it wasn’t mercy.

The watch buzzed violently. “Adam, your heart rate is dangerously high, please take a deep breath.”

I couldn’t. My chest was ready to collapse in on itself. The guards’ grips tightened on me, but I continued to lunge myself towards Mingyu to no avail.

“Master,” Jongmin said lightly, as if suggesting a mere party trick. “I have an idea. Let’s make Park Wonbin a Jack for the rest of the show.”

The King of Spades smiled as if it were music to his ears. “You’ve read my mind.”

“No! That’s not fair!” Mingyu wailed. The desperation finally cracked his composure, his voice pitching higher as his hands shot out uselessly at his sides. “You can’t do this to me—”

The King lifted a finger, and the sound died from Mingyu’s throat like someone had pressed mute. “I haven’t forgotten about you,” he said, turning back to him. “You committed some serious crimes, but you did bring me some great potential entertainment. The guests would eat this up.”

“Yes Master, I did it for you.” Mingyu immediately bowed his head again, clinging to whatever scraps he could.

The King laughed. “You didn’t,” he said plainly. “But since I’m merciful, I’ll also let you be a Jack—under one condition.”

Mingyu’s eyes snapped up. “What is it?”

“Only if Park Wonbin is no longer able to perform can you enter the stage.” He smiled as if the excitement was almost too much to bear. “And afterwards, you’ll still answer for your crimes to the Society with your life. How does that sound?”

Mingyu didn’t even hesitate.

“I accept!” he blurted out eagerly.

Both the King and Jongmin turned to me in unison, like a spotlight swinging around.

“And you, Park Wonbin? Do you accept your offer to become a valiant Jack of Spades?”

I didn’t need to think twice. My thoughts finally gathered themselves. Fear disappeared. Anger settled. If it was to protect Wonyoung from garbage like him, the choice was easy.

“I accept,” I said.

“Oh dear…” Krystal sighed into my skull.

The King nodded, seemingly satisfied with the chaotic turn of events, like he’d just watched a roulette ball land exactly where he wanted. “Wonderful,” he said, already turning away. “I’ll see you outside, gentlemen. May the bids be in your favor.”

The guards parted as he left the room. The silence that remained felt like that of a concert stage between songs.

Jongmin stepped closer, voice dropping to a venomous whisper meant only for me. “Let’s see how much you really love her.”

A guard approached and placed something cold and heavy into my palm. A collar.

“Here, Jack of Spades,” he said coldly, holding out a fancy matte black bag. “Put your clothes in this bag. All of it.”

“If you go through with this, I won’t be able to help you,” Krystal warned.

Another attendant stepped forward, holding a narrow tray lined with black velvet. Three pills rested there, perfectly spaced and unlabeled.

“And these are your… supplements,” Jongmin said, overly amused. “If you choose to use them.”

He picked up the first. “This one increases sexual stamina,” he said, holding the yellow pill between two fingers like a pearl, “keeps your body going long after it wants to stop. It suppresses fatigue, drastically increases blood flow, relinquishes anxiety, and delays shutdown. Your mind and your muscles won’t fail you—even when they should.”

I glanced at Mingyu without meaning to. He was still on his knees, still breathing too fast, eyes flicking between the tray and the King’s door like a starving dog watching someone else’s meal.

Jongmin’s fingers slid to the second. “The blue one,” he continued, voice lowering like revealing someone else’s secret, “removes the ceiling. Every sensation gets louder. Deeper. Pleasure, discomfort, pain—your body won’t be able to tell the difference. Only that it wants more.”

Finally, he hovered over the last one.

The purple pill. Sitting on the dark velvet, yet not blending into it at all.

“And this one,” he said softly, “rewrites desire itself.” He didn’t smile this time. “It doesn’t ask what you want. It already knows. It amplifies need. The most raw, carnal, human desire.”

The tray tilted toward me.

“I’d recommend starting with just the yellow one,” he added ominously. “And then add more depending on the type of performance.”

“Is this what you feed your Aces?” I asked, watching the pills taunting me like they had a story to tell.

“They all make their own choices,” he said, smirking. “And have their own preferences.”

Krystal hummed urgently in my wrist. “Adam, this is untested pharmacology—”

I didn’t break eye contact with Mingyu. He was breathing through his mouth now, eyes wide in a way that made it obvious he wasn’t afraid—he was wanting. Wanting the stage, wanting the permission, wanting her.

Something settled in my chest, and I smiled—a smile that didn’t belong to me.

“I’ll take all three right now,” I said.

There was no way he’d ever touch Wonyoung. Not now, not ever.

--

The leather collar bit cold against my throat as the handler dragged me toward the back of the stage. His grip was firm and unforgiving, steering me like unruly livestock until he shoved me down onto the padded floor next to the other Jacks.

The stage lights felt blinding, a stark contrast to how dim they had looked from the audience’s seats. Above us, the massive screens flickered—boasting the performing Aces in higher definition from this new distance, their faces looming over us like saints in a cathedral built on lust and sin.

BIDDING OVER Eunha ♥ Results: [Team 1] 8 + 7 + 8 + 7 = 30 pts (Winner!) [Team 3] 5 + 8 + 4 + 6 = 23 pts [Team 5] 6 + 6 + 6 + 7 = 25 pts [Team 8] 7 + 6 + 4 + 7 = 24 pts Total points: 102 (₩1,020,000,000) Team 1 x Eunha: x2 King (+40) 142 (₩1,420,000,000)

BIDDING OVER Jiheon ♦ Results: [Team 1] 6 + 6 + 6 + 5 = 23 pts [Team 3] 6 + 6 + 6 + 5 = 23 pts [Team 4] 4 + 4 + 4 + 4 = 16 pts [Team 6] 4 + 5 + 5 + 3 = 17 pts [Team 8] 7 + 8 + 8 + 8 = 25 pts (Winner!) Total points: 104 (₩1,040,000,000) Team 8 x Jiheon: x2 King (+40) 144 (₩1,440,000,000)

The audience leaned forward in their seats hungrily as moans spilled across the stage—sharper and wetter in the back than they ever sounded from the crowd.

“Watch closely,” Jiheon said from the Diamonds quadrant, a devilish—almost twisted smile painted on her face like stage makeup, while the sparkling black diamond collar sat proudly around her neck.

My stomach nearly turned when I recognized her Kings—the European couple that had pulled Yujin and me aside no more than an hour ago, now nothing more than mere playthings.

“Do you see how hard your pathetic husband is fucking me?” Jiheon snarled, clamping the woman’s jaw to force her gaze down. “Look—he can’t get enough of my pussy.”

The woman gulped, her past arrogance now shattered into submissive fragments. She knelt half-naked, dress torn and dangling off one shoulder, chest heaving with each ragged breath.

Beneath Jiheon, the husband thrust upwards like a fish pulled out of water, eyes almost vacant, fingers digging into her hips as she ground down on him, skillfully rolling her pelvis in vicious circles.

“Baby, I’m so sorry—her tight little cunt feels so good,” he whimpered, voice cracking as he jerked up almost involuntarily. “I can’t help it… it’s just sucking me in.”

“You promised we’d share her together,” the woman murmured, knees grinding into the stage floor, her thighs wet with the arousal she couldn’t hide. “That it would be fun.”

“Oh?” Jiheon paused mid-motion. “Are you not having fun?”

“I—No—that’s not what I mean—”

The wife’s protest died in a gasp as Jiheon lunged forward, crashing her lips against her’s in a sloppy, devouring kiss—tongues tangling, saliva dripping down their chins as she yanked her closer by the throat. “Maybe I’ve been neglecting you.”

With a light shove, Jiheon climbed off the husband—but he desperately clutched at her thighs, his cock flopping in the air while completely covered in her juices.

She backhanded his fingers away, then hauled the woman flush against her sweat-glistened body. “Open,” she ordered.

The wife parted her lips without hesitation, and Jiheon plunged two fingers, drenched in the husband’s essence and her own wetness, straight into the woman’s mouth. “Taste your husband’s fresh, filthy lust,” she demanded.

The woman gagged softly, cheeks hollowing as she swirled her tongue around the fingers, eyes watering with humiliation.

“You’re both so pathetic,” Jiheon said, wiping both spit and sex juices across the woman’s face. “You paid all this money just to watch your own husband worship my pussy while you finger yourself. How embarrassing.”

“Ladies and gentlemen… as you can see, the House of Diamonds is really not to be taken lightly,” the Dealer said, chuckling over the wet slurps and desperate gasps filling the room. “Certainly not for the faint of heart, indeed.”

“Fuck… Jiheon-sshi’s so fucking hot…” one of the other Jacks groaned next to me, working himself under the shadows. “Look at how yummy her thighs look… I wish I was in Diamonds.”

“You must be joking,” another murmured. “They’ll eat you alive. Be glad you’re in Spades.”

“You must be new here if you think Spades are any better. They’re only submissive to Kings. Hearts and Clubs are where you really wanna be.”

“Speak for yourselves, morons. I love it here. These Spades sluts are the best of the best.”

Over in the Hearts quadrant, the two young chaebol heiresses that I recognized from Table One swarmed over Eunha like vengeful shadows, pinning her on the ground.

“Admit it, you home-wrecking whore,” the one with cropped hair sneered, twisting Eunha’s nipples. “You spread your legs for my boyfriend like this, didn’t you? You desperate cum-dump.”

She plunged a purple strap-on right into Eunha’s exposed folds, while her friend watched in satisfaction as the base smacked against her clit.

“N-no, please—I swear I didn’t know,” Eunha gasped, her body arching involuntarily as the dildo plunged deeper.

“You didn’t know he was my boyfriend when you let him fuck you backstage at your concert?” The girl yanked herself out halfway, only to slam it back in, forcing a choked sob from Eunha’s throat.

Her juices coated the shaft, dripping down her thighs in glistening trails that almost looked like tears. “I didn’t know—I had no idea, I really didn’t know—” Eunha cried, her words dissolving into whimpers.

“So you’re that much of a brainless slut? Any cock that waves at you gets to fill your holes?”

“Please—I’m sorry—god, I’m so sorry, I really didn’t mean to—” Eunha’s pleas cracked into loud moans, her body betraying her as fresh floods of wetness soaked the silicone shaft.

The girl with the longer hair straddled Eunha’s face in one fluid motion, her silk dress cascading over like a suffocating shroud. She lowered her bare pussy directly onto Eunha’s mouth, grinding down with possessive force.

“Make me come, bitch,” she sneered. “All over your guilty mouth.”

Eunha’s protests turned to muffled slurps as the girl rocked forward, smearing her arousal all over her lips, cheeks, and chin.

“Stay the fuck away from him,” the other one growled, leaning in to slap Eunha’s bouncing tits. “Keep your nasty pussy to yourself, you understand?”

Eunha’s head bobbed frantically under the girl’s weight, her body trembling as the dildo stretched and filled her without mercy.

“Use her face until you come, Jinah,” the short haired girl said, syncing her thrusts to her friend’s rolls. “She’s getting even wetter now. Little whore loves this because she knows she’s guilty. Stupid idol cunt.”

“God, she really knows how to use her mouth. She’s licking me so passionately even though I’m using her like a toy. What a trained whore.”

“House of Hearts molded you well, didn’t they?” the other girl said, picking up the pace with her dildo. “But this is the kind of love you deserve, fucking man-stealing bitch.”

“God, Jieun—I wonder if she sucked your boyfriend off this good—”

“Shut the hell up!” she yelled, fucking Eunha even harder out of rage.

No matter how much I fought it, my body started tingling in ways I’d never felt before. I tried to focus on the floor, on the lights, but the drugs had clearly started taking over my body, limb by limb. Heat crawled under my skin like fire ants, and it was getting harder to kneel, as if my knees were protesting, begging me to run toward the stage. To do something. Anything. No matter right or wrong.

Jiheon’s voice cut through the Diamonds stage like a whip. “That’s it,” she moaned, arching her back. “Keep licking my asshole while your husband fucks me.”

He gripped Jiheon’s hips tighter, fingers digging into her soft flesh as he thrust harder, slamming right into her with repeated wet slaps against her jiggling cheeks. “Fuck—honey—her pussy’s so tight,” he cried, voice breaking as he continued smacking her ass loudly.

The woman couldn’t tear her eyes away, fingers frantically moving between her thighs as she watched his shaft stretch Jiheon wide open.

“You’ve never fucked me like this,” she whimpered, voice muffled against Jiheon’s ass. “Not even once.”

“I’m sorry, I don’t know why it feels so good—”

“You’re gonna come inside her?” she asked, tongue darting out to catch the drippings off his cock. “Inside of her pretty young pussy?”

“Is that okay? Can I?” he begged, but he was looking to Jiheon for permission—not her.

Jiheon collapsed forward onto the floor with a dramatic shudder, her body sprawling on the mat as she bit down on her thumb, the other hand flying around her clit. “I’m coming,” she moaned loudly. “Keep licking and fucking me… I’m gonna come all over your cock while your wife watches.”

The woman dragged her tongue lower, tracing the spot where his length buried itself into Jiheon’s clenching pussy, while he moved like he was being forced to by some supernatural force.

“Fuck—I’m co—” he grunted, dipping his head back.

“Come on your wife’s face,” Jiheon ordered through loud gasps, twisting her head back to lock eyes with him. “Pull her mask off and cover her fucking face with your dirty lust.”

He yanked free and stroked his shaft furiously, grunting like a wild animal as thick bursts of cum splattered across his wife’s bare face, landing on her cheeks, lips, and forehead.

They all moaned loudly in unison; Jiheon lay shaking on the floor from the aftershocks of her own climax, her fingers slowing to gentle circles on her clit, while the husband heaved as he milked every last drop from his pulsing cock. His lust slowly dripped from his wife’s skin onto Jiheon’s body as she dropped to the floor panting.

“Thanks for playing with me, I hope I wasn’t too rough on you,” Jiheon said innocently, crawling towards the wife, capturing her lips in a sloppy, open-mouthed kiss. Her husband watched as their tongues tangled messily, cum dripping from their faces into the cracks of their joined lips, sharing the load back and forth.

The audience cheered and clapped loudly, leaning over tables and whistling. Their applause rolled over the stage like thunder—it wasn’t just approval, it was hunger and an intoxication so heavy that it transcended that of the alcohol served on silver trays by white gloved hands.

“Taste your dirty pussy, whore.”

I turned back to the Hearts stage, where the chaos had escalated into something far uglier. The heiress with longer hair clutched a fistful of Eunha’s blonde strands, yanking her head forward and slamming it down onto the strap-on wrapped around her friend’s hips. The thick silicone shaft, wet with Eunha’s own juices, speared straight into her mouth, stretching her lips wide around its girth.

“My god, she’s getting even wetter now,” her friend taunted. “Little whore loves this because she knows she’s guilty. Stupid idol cunt.”

“Show us how you sucked his dick in the dressing room, bitch,” she snarled, shoving Eunha’s face in until her nose touched the other girl’s pelvis.

Her throat convulsed around the length as saliva frothed at the corners of her stretched mouth, dripping in thick strings down her chin and onto her reddened tits.

The cropped-haired heiress bucked her hips viciously, fucking Eunha’s face with unforgiving thrusts that made her eyes slowly water. “Is this how you did it?” she taunted, grinding deeper. “You swallowed him all the way like this?”

Eunha tried to shake her head, but the girl with short hair held her jaw tightly, keeping her throat wrapped around the dildo, and her body jerked with each passing second that she was trapped.

“Tell us—did SinB and Umji know what you were doing back there? Or were you too busy deepthroating his dick to care?”

Her friend laughed and grabbed another dildo from somewhere on the stage, then dragged it across Eunha’s folds, coating it in the fresh wetness leaking from her exposed pussy before circling the flared tip around her other hole.

“And then what happened next?” she asked, circling her entrance. “Did you let him fuck you in the ass too? I bet you did, huh? You bent over and begged for it, didn’t you?”

With a wet pop, Eunha pulled her mouth free from the strap-on, gasping for breath, strings of spit connecting her swollen lips to the glistening toy. “No! I didn’t—”

Her words cut off in a sharp yelp as the girl named Jinah’s hand cracked down on her ass; the slap echoed through the room as her flesh jiggled to the force.

"Don't fucking lie to us!" Jinah barked, spanking her again, harder, the impact forcing Eunha’s hips to buck forward involuntarily.

“We didn’t do that! I swear!” Eunha cried, shaking her head frantically.

“So he just used your greedy little pussy then?” the girl with the strap on said, smearing Eunha’s own spit all over her face like lotion.

“Y-yes—just… my pussy…” Eunha whimpered, voice almost breaking.

“Tell us everything.” She slapped her ass again. “Tell us how you fucked him. In detail.”

“I’m sorry, please just forgive me—I truly didn’t know!”

She grabbed Eunha’s chin, forcing her to be still. “Tell us!”

“He told me that he was a big fan—” Eunha confessed, moaning loudly to every smack. “And that—I was his favorite since Gfriend—”

“That’s it?” the girl scoffed, twisting the dildo against her hole. “That’s all it takes to fuck a slutty C-list idol like you?”

“No… then he kissed me… with his tongue… and whispered that he knew my King… that it was okay…”

“And then you let him fuck you?”

“Y-yes…”

“And you liked it!”

“I didn’t know he had a girlfriend—please—” Eunha yelped as the dildo slowly started to enter her. “Wait—please don’t!”

“If he didn’t fuck your asshole, then I will—”

“Enough.” A deep, authoritative voice boomed from the shadows of the throne of Hearts. “We fold.”

The girls froze instantly. One of them still had her hand gripping the dildo’s base where it hovered above Eunha’s ass—her face as guilty as a child caught reaching for a cookie jar.

“Already?” she asked disappointedly, snickering as she slowly withdrew it.

He stepped closer into the light. His mask was a matte red masterpiece, an intricate web of hearts that looked a lot like a traditional Japanese painting.

“I let you play your sick game long enough,” he said. “My angels aren’t your personal playthings.”

“Angel?” she scoffed, wiping her hand on her dress. “She’s a boyfriend-stealing cunt—”

“Mind your tongue,” he warned. “Go clean up and get back to your seat. The round’s over.”

“Pfft, Hearts are always so soft…” they muttered to each other, backing away. “Come on, let’s go.”

The crowd went silent. The laughter died in their throats, smiles wiped from their faces.

The King of Hearts reached for a soft towel from an attendant and draped it over Eunha’s quivering body, shielding her from both the stares of the audience and the sneers of the heiresses. “Are you okay, my love?” he whispered.

She nodded weakly, collapsing into him as he scooped her up into his arms. He cradled her against his chest like she was a fragile piece of treasure he had almost lost.

“I’m sorry for not folding earlier,” she whimpered. “I wanted to make our House proud.”

“You did so well,” he said, kissing her gently on her forehead. “Thank you for always trying your best.”

She buried her face in his shoulder as he carried her off the stage, into the protective shadows of the throne.

“Tsk tsk tsk... our first Fold of the night,” the Dealer announced from the center ring, his voice smooth and theatrical as the audience buzzed with murmurs and scattered applause. “Folks, let this serve as a stark reminder: treat our precious Aces with the respect they deserve—especially those from the precious House of Hearts. Now—let us take a short break before we return to the second half of the second round!”

The next ten minutes felt like an eternity from the back of the stage.

Guests leaned over their tables, whispering behind glasses of high-end whisky and champagne flutes, gossiping and dissecting what they had just witnessed.

“The second round is already so intense this year,” a man murmured near the front, swirling his drink. “You’ve gotta give it to that Hearts girl, she really took it like a champ.”

“The King of Hearts is a pathetic loser as usual,” his partner laughed, though her eyes were still wide. “But I suppose that’s what makes the Hearts so fun to break.”

“If you ask me, pathetic is having a boyfriend who cheats on you and then paying millions to humiliate the poor girl instead.”

“Wait—I thought they were roleplaying?” another table asked.

“Were they? I missed the beginning.”

“That other guy though… he made his wife watch the whole time.”

Someone laughed. “I’m pretty sure they didn’t plan it to be that way. That Diamonds girl was just too much for them.”

“That’s the point, isn’t it? If you can’t handle the heat, just don’t bid on a Diamond—unless you want to just play Jacks.”

The tension from the two stages still hung in the air, but the Dealer didn’t let it settle—he clapped his hands once, letting the sharp crack reset the room’s rhythm like a whip.

“Let us continue, my lovely patrons!” He spread his arms wide, pivoting on his heel to face the next quadrant. “Now… I know the last two stages were filled with rather heavy emotions, but fear not—our two remaining Houses are known to be a bit more… physical.”

A round of applause picked the energy of the room back up immediately.

“Ladies, and gentlemen! Please welcome the Red Ace of Clubs—Yoohyeon of Dreamcatcher!”

The screen behind him flashed—a blinding white club pulsing against the darkness.

“Charismatic, talented, dangerous in all the right ways… Our lovely Yoohyeon is a true veteran, one of the longest standing Aces in our Auction’s history, as this will be her sixth Blackjack Auction.” He paced the edge of the spotlight, voice booming through the room. “Might I add… this is truly a very impressive feat for the House of Clubs, notorious for their sky-high standards and rotating their members regularly…”

Yoohyeon stepped forward into the light, moving with an easy, practiced grace that made the other girls before her look like amateurs. The velvet blindfold complemented her pretty plump lips, and the red collar shimmered under the light like a well-deserved trophy.

“My dear,” the Dealer purred, leaning in. “Do you have words for these—both new and familiar—faces?”

Yoohyeon smiled knowingly—as if she knew exactly what the room wanted because she’d given it to them so many times before.

“For those whom I’ve met before, I’m glad we can enjoy another night together,” she started, her voice smooth and confident. “And for any newcomers—please let me show you the pride of the House of Clubs.”

She bit her lower lip just enough to draw every eye to her mouth. Half of the audience erupted into cheers; it wasn’t polite applause—it was a roar.

“Blowbang Queen Kim Yoohyeon!” a voice hollered, followed by a chorus of whistles and table-slapping approval.

“Let’s go Clubs!” someone shouted from the back, punching the air. “Show these amateurs how it’s done!”

The Dealer chuckled, clearly pleased, feeding the frenzy with a small wave of his gloved hand. “My my, you’ve got quite the fanbase this year. The House of Clubs is certainly lucky to have such a long running superstar.” He snapped his attention back to the crowd, eyes gleaming behind his mask. “Now—let’s see the results!”

BIDDING OVER Yoohyeon ♣ Results: [Team 4] 6 + 6 + 7 + 6 = 25 pts [Team 5] 7 + 7 + 7 + 8 = 29 pts (Winner!) [Team 7] 7 + 6 + 7 + 6 = 26 pts [Team 8] 5 + 5 + 6 + 6 = 22 pts Total points: 102 (₩1,020,000,000) Team 5 x Yoohyeon: x4 Jack x2 King (+80) 182 (₩1,820,000,000)

“Oh my…” The Dealer’s eyes widened behind his mask as the numbers tallied on the screen. “Four Jacks… and two Kings, a very traditional combo for those who wish to indulge in the most filthy kinds of fun.”

He let out a low whistle as the crowd grew even rowdier, sweeping his arm toward the stage with a flourish. “My dear, I know you’re ready, so without further ado, please step up on the stage, stand-in Kings!”

Yoohyeon’s lips curled like that of a willing prey as the two Jacks from Natty’s round re-entered the stage along with two new faces. As expected, they were both also foreigners, built like professional athletes, and easily as tall, if not taller than the others. The spotlight carved out every ridge of their chiseled frames, highlighting the muscles that flexed with each step as they moved with the shared arrogance of men who believed they were the main event.

“Hey baby,” one of them purred, hand already reaching out to claim her waist. “Long time no see. You’re still as fine as ever.”

Yoohyeon giggled, wrapping her arms around his neck. “Did you miss me?”

“Absolutely, baby, these new Aces don’t compa—”

She didn’t hesitate, crashing her lips against his in a sloppy, wet kiss that echoed through the speakers. The other three immediately closed in like a pack of wolves, hands roaming every inch of her body. Sharp, stinging slaps rang out as they took turns smacking her ass, cutting through the low roar of the crowd.

“Mmm, you’re so big,” she gasped, stroking one of them almost worshipfully. “It’s been a while since I’ve got to play with you.”

He bit his lip, grabbing a handful of her cheeks in his large hands. “This ass is a work of art.”

“Easily the best ass in this House.”

“Pfft, best ass amongst any House. Look at this—it’s fucking perfect.”

Her body arched into their touch as they playfully spanked and kneaded her ass, letting the plump softness jiggle and redden in their massive hands.

“Don’t make me wait another year,” he said, guiding her head down. “Show me how much you miss this dick.”

She sank to her knees obediently, her mouth stretching wide to engulf his thick, throbbing cock while her hands worked the other two, pumping them in a slow, wet rhythm. The sight was primal—like she was purposely demonstrating to everyone exactly why she belonged there.

“The chemistry! The expertise! The sheer, undeniable confidence! Truly the mark of a legend!” The Dealer paused, letting the applause wash over the stage before clapping his hands once, sharp and final. “But let us not linger too long in the House of Clubs, tempting as it may be—for we must turn our eyes to the final stage of this round first!”

The guests didn’t even wait for the introduction; the energy shifted instantly, snapping from rowdy lust into something darker, heavier—even more carnal.

A tall, slender girl slowly stood from the shadows. Her silhouette cut through the smoke-filled air, each sway of her hips carrying her closer to the front of the Spades’ stage in a rhythm that silenced the nearest tables and slowed time itself—almost stopping even my own breath.

“Spades! Spades! Spades!” the crowd began to chant, a drunken, rhythmic roar that made the floorboards vibrate.

“Oh my,” the Dealer chuckled, bathing in all the tension. “It would seem that you all know exactly what—or who—is coming.”

“Yuna! Spades Princess Shin Yuna! Yuna! Yuna!”

He stood at the center of the stage, arms spread wide, embracing the chaos. “That’s right, ladies and gentlemen! It is my absolute pleasure to present to you, the White Ace of Spades—the drop-dead gorgeous princess—Yuna of ITZY!”

The room exploded like fireworks.

Yuna stepped fully into the spotlight, appearing almost ethereal. Her perfect figure looked like it was molded by the heavens themselves, exerting a captivating dominance that could only be found in the House of Spades.

“Shattering expectations last year during her debut as the Pink Ace of Spades, Yuna has since been promoted to White, and folks, let me tell you… the House of Spades takes their training very seriously, so don’t expect her to be the same woman.” He turned to her, his mask glinting under the harsh spotlights like it had excitement of its own. “Any words, my dear?”

Yuna giggled, the sound light and airy—almost angelic. “Hi everyone,” she said simply.

The crowd fell into immediate silence, the low hum of conversation dying mid-breath as every ear turned toward her.

“I’m Yuna,” she continued. “I had a lot of fun last year. Let’s make even more memories tonight.”

“Indeed, I’m sure our patrons will be expecting fun,” the Dealer said, leaning in. “But what exactly should we expect to see tonight, Princess Yuna?”

She tilted her head, a playful smile curling her thin lips. “Tonight we’ll do a speed-run. Let me show you all… what the House of Spades is all about.”

“A speed-run!” he exclaimed, feigning shock. “How very exciting! A most famous trademark of the incredible Spades! Don’t make us wait, show us who the lucky winners are!”

BIDDING OVER Yuna ♠ Results: [Team 1] 7 + 8 + 9 + 8 = 32 pts [Team 2] 🅹 (Winner!) [Team 3] 8 + 9 + 9 + 8 = 33 pts [Team 6] 7 + 8 + 7 + 8 = 30 pts [Team 7] 8 + 8 + 8 + 8 = 32 pts [Team 8] 7 + 8 + 8 + 8 = 31 pts Total points: 158 + 🅹 (₩1,880,000,000)

The room suddenly fell completely silent as the screen flickered behind the Dealer. The numbers didn’t just climb—they jumped, flashing a symbol that hadn’t been shown before.

“Oh my…” The Dealer’s voice dropped, both hushed and delighted. “Ladies and gentlemen, it would appear that the first Joker of the night has already made its way out.”

“Already?” someone yelled from their seat. “It’s only the second round!”

“We should’ve known, it’s fucking Yuna for God’s sake!” another man shouted, throwing his hands up in defeat. “I told you fools—goddammit!”

“That’s insane! Who uses a Joker this early?”

“Now now, my dear gamblers…” The Dealer raised both hands, quieting the storm. “All is fair in love and war… and this is certainly both. Let us see how much more massive this pot will get.”

Team 2 x Yuna: x4 Jack x2 King (+80) 268 (₩2,680,000,000)

“…Unbelievable. Absolutely astounding…”

Even the Dealer sounded genuinely stunned. He shook his head, looking up at the scoreboard where the numbers glowed like a high score on a slot machine.

“There you have it folks… Another four Jacks and two Kings combo… Nearly 300 points in the second round,” he said, his voice practically vibrating with glee. “We’re witnessing history tonight. Nothing less than expected from the House of Spades.”

Murmurs of disbelief spread like wildfire, a mix of awe and annoyance rippling through the tables. But something in my bones tingled and burned like a flame igniting.

Four Jacks. That means—

Someone suddenly nudged me from behind. “You’re up.”

My vision blurred, even from the light impact. The edges of the room were starting to smear, lights trailing like comets whenever I moved my head. Whatever was in those pills was quickly taking over—rewiring my nerves, turning down the volume on my panic and cranking up something else entirely—something I didn’t even know existed inside me.

I dragged myself to my feet. The movement felt distant, like I was piloting a machine instead of moving my own body. The cold air hit my completely exposed flesh instantly, raising goosebumps that had nothing to do with the temperature.

Beside me, three other Jacks also rose from the mat. We moved as a unit, and the collar on my neck felt like it was tightening, growing heavier with every step I took toward the front of the stage. I was somehow aware enough to realize that to my left was the annoying smug Jack from Minju’s round and Wonyoung’s video. If my body didn’t feel so paralyzed, if my mind wasn’t swimming in this thick, chemical haze, I would’ve wanted to sink my fist into his face until that smirk disappeared forever.

But instead, I felt so calm—zen, even. The rage was still there, but it felt suppressed—trapped underneath a panel of glass.

We stopped at the edge of the spotlight. From the corner of my eye, I could see Sora cover her mouth in shock at the sight of me, jumping up from her seat before John and his wife gently pulled her down. They were all still there, faces plastered with shock and confusion even beneath the heavy gold masks.

But I couldn’t even feel embarrassed. I didn’t have anything left in me to feel ashamed that they could see my bare body beneath this leather collar. The world just felt so foggy and uninteresting. I only cared about one thing, and it was standing right before me in white.

Yuna ripped her blindfold off in one smooth motion and tossed it squarely onto the face of the Jack to my right. He caught it like a bouquet, holding it worshipfully in his hands, almost like they were a pair of panties instead of a piece of fabric covering her eyes.

I tried to anchor my eyes to hers, but gravity betrayed me. My gaze slipped, drawn helplessly down the sculpted lines of her ridiculous figure. I’d never seen anything like it up close—the narrowing of her waist into the fullness of her hips, the perfect length and shape of her legs, the defined edges of her collarbones and shoulders, and the soft, steady lift of her chest as she breathed.

She stood there unfazed, blinking against the harsh light, looking us over like we were products at a market.

“Most of you look new,” she said, scanning our faces one by one.

Her gaze slid past the others, seeming almost bored—until it landed on me.

It stopped there.

Something inside of me shifted like her eyes had some kind of invisible lasso pulling my soul towards her. She stared intently, lingering almost a little too long before she finally looked away.

The two new stand-in Kings from Table Two walked onto the stage with the same commanding confidence as the one who had claimed Minju earlier—shoulders back, chins high, masks glinting like they were born wearing them, moving like they owned the floor beneath their feet no matter where they were.

“Masters.” Yuna smiled, offering a submissive bow. “It’s an honor to serve you tonight.”

“You’re as beautiful as ever, Yuna,” one of them said, taking her hand and pressing a kiss to her fingers. “Tell us what this speed-run of yours is all about.”

She giggled and straightened her posture. “Oh, it’s really simple. I do my best to make you all finish as fast as I can.”

“Were you perhaps inspired by Jang Wonyoung’s shocking performance last year?” the other asked, amused.

Her smile sharpened into a smirk. “I don’t expect to beat Wonnie’s time,” she said, but there was definitely a flicker of something competitive in her eyes. “I just want to see for myself how I’d do.”

“This will be interesting,” the smug Jack next to me muttered under his breath. “We get to fuck Yuna and she has to try and make us come as fast as she can. I heard her pussy feels unreal—it’s a win-win if you ask me.”

Yuna’s head immediately snapped toward him. “What did you just call me?”

The Jack froze. “Shit—sorry—”

She reached out and hooked a finger into his collar, yanking him forward. “Know your place, Jack,” she said, her voice dropping a whole octave.

“Y-yes, ma’am—”

“I said,” she repeated, shoving him backward with surprising force. “Know your place.”

He stumbled and fell to the floor in confusion, looking up at her with wide eyes. “What’s my place?”

“Beneath me.” She held a hand out toward the shadows, and an attendant materialized with a velvet tray. “Have you taken one already?” she asked, crouching over him.

“I did, last round—”

Before he could finish, she slipped a blue pill past his lips, and covered them with her palm.

“Don’t worry,” she said, tossing a couple into her own mouth, gulping them casually. “I’m fair. One for you, two for me. Let’s see who lives and who dies.”

He swallowed instinctively. “Wait, hold on—”

But she didn’t wait. She climbed over him, crashing her bare, beautiful folds down over his mouth to silence him. Her hand went straight to his already rock-hard cock, stroking it with a fast, merciless rhythm.

“Let’s make an example out of you since you like to talk big,” she said, spitting on his shaft. “Fuck me? You think you’ll get that far?”

He couldn’t respond. She rolled her hips on his face, grinding down possessively, forcing him to inhale and taste nothing but her.

I swallowed, hands violently trembling as my body desperately begged me to trade places with him.

“I doubt that pill will even have time to settle.” Her hand pumped him with a brutal speed that left no room for true pleasure.

His body twitched and tangled beneath her as she dove her head lower, wrapping her lips around the head of his cock. Her throat swallowed the tip, then the shaft, taking him all the way in until her nose brushed his stomach.

“Mmph! Mmmmmph!” His hands came up, desperately gripping her hips as if he couldn’t figure out if he wanted to pull her closer or push her away.

For a long moment, there were only the sounds of her throat gurgling through the silence—while his muffled moans barely escaped from under her pussy.

“Yuna—wait! You’re—” he gasped the second she pulled back for air.

“Yuna? Again?” she growled, eyes flashing.

She squeezed his shaft so hard his knuckles turned white on her hips, pumping him rougher, faster.

“White! I mean White!” he cried, panic cracking his voice. “Fuck—you’re fucking crazy—”

She lifted her upper body, pushing all her weight down onto his face as she ground against his nose and mouth, her hand blurring as she stroked him furiously.

“You’re coming,” she stated—not a question, but a command. “In three… two…”

“Oh, fuck—”

Exactly as she counted down, his body arched like he was possessed. Thick spurts of cum flew out of his cock, shooting into the air like a geyser before splashing onto the polished floor.

“Let it all out,” she said, still jerking him past his climax. “Every last drop.”

“Stop—stop—no more—” His body trembled beneath her, spasming in aftershocks as she continued to grind out the next few seconds, using his face for her own pleasure until she was satisfied.

“Fuck…” another Jack muttered under his breath. “We’re gonna die.”

“I’ve experienced this before during practice,” another whispered. “Couldn’t last more than 30 seconds, especially with those blue pills.”

“What? The blue pills don’t make you finish faster, though. Is she really that good? I’ve never been assigned to her before.”

“If you’ve only ever worked with Pink, consider this your burial.”

A proud smile returned to Yuna’s face as she stood up, leaving the Jack gasping and broken on the floor.

“Sorry, Masters,” she said, wiping her hands on a towel handed to her by an attendant. “I hate it when filth forget what they are.”

“You’re very impressive, White,” one of the Kings said, clearly entertained. He looked down at the mess on the floor and then back at her, eyes gleaming with admiration. “That was less than a minute.”

She chuckled, stepping toward him with a sway in her hips that was pure confidence. “Please call me Yuna,” she purred, slipping two pills into his mouth, letting her thumb graze his lower lip. “Only Jacks should be calling us by our colors.”

He reached out, stroking her cheek with the back of his hand, gentle despite the chaos around them. “Shin Yuna,” he repeated, savoring the name as he swallowed. “You’re my little angel for the next half an hour.”

“Ooh, you’re so ambitious, Master…” she said, her hands moving to his waist, and the buckle of his belt clicked open with a practiced snap. “Tell me—what drives you crazy?”

He paused for a moment, cupping her ass with his palms. “I love a good little slave,” he said, his voice dropping low.

“Then I’ll be the best slave you’ve ever had.” She smiled and dropped to her knees, as if her body instinctively understood how to serve and obey.

“Oh?” the other King said, already unzipping his own pants. “But I heard blowjobs weren’t your specialty.”

“Please don’t underestimate me,” she cooed, glancing up at them with parted lips and eyes that held a perfect mix of innocence and venom. “I might not be Wonnie, but I’m still an Ace of Spades. Let me help you understand what that means.”

My head felt like it was floating. The scene in front of me was sharpening and blurring at the same time—colors too bright, sounds too loud. I blinked hard, trying to steady myself, and my gaze somehow drifted back to the Clubs’ stage.

Yoohyeon faced away from the stand-in King, her back arched as she repeatedly lowered herself onto his thick cock. She rolled her hips in a slow, teasing grind, lifting up until just the tip remained inside, then slamming down hard, her cheeks rippling with each impact as their skin slapped together in wet, rhythmic echoes that filled the air.

Five men surrounded them—four foreigner Jacks and a single stand-in King who might’ve been Japanese. Her fingers were wrapped around two cocks at a time, stroking from base to tip with firm, twisting pulls while they all took turns fucking her throat with brutal pumps. As soon as one pulled back with a wet pop, another slid right in, stretching her lips wide around their girth. Her hands kept pumping the others, fingers wet with pre-cum and her own saliva, twisting at the heads to draw out even more juices that she smeared down the long lengths.

Time stopped feeling linear.

My vision swam, the lights fracturing into prisms that danced across everyone’s sweat-glistened skin. It was like watching through warped glass—everything was too vivid, but at the same time, indistinguishable. I held onto the floor for balance as the scenes bled into each other in my mind.

“That’s it baby, take all of it, deep in that little throat.”

The men rotated again, two more shoving into her hands as she opened wide for the next, her tongue flicking out before she engulfed it all, sucking on their cocks greedily.

Something pulled my eyes back to Yuna.

The King behind her pounded into her with deep, careful strokes, each thrust pushing her mouth further down the other King’s cock. She swallowed all of him effortlessly while drool leaked from the corners of her mouth, dripping onto the floor in shiny puddles.

“Oh my god, this pussy—why does it feel so good?” he groaned, gripping onto her waist like it was the only thing grounding him to reality.

“Fuck me to your heart’s content, Master… I’m your little pussy-slave for as long as you can hold it…” Yuna’s eyes fluttered as she rocked between them while my own pulse rang loudly in my ears, making every moan feel like it was vibrating through my skull like Krystal’s voice.

“Fuck, let’s switch, I want to feel it too,” the other King said, even though his body was ready to give up from the way her mouth and hands worked his shaft.

“No—I wanna come like this!”

“You selfish asshole—you can’t hog her pussy for yourself—”

“Don’t fight over me, Masters,” she moaned, frantically slurping the length of the cock before her. “There’s enough of me to go around.”

The two men shoved at each other’s shoulders, their hips still locked in rhythm with the sway of her body. The one behind her tightened his fingers into her hips, pulling her back harder against him, while sweat beaded on his forehead. His breaths came in ragged bursts as he ignored the other’s demands, burying himself deeper into her like it was all that mattered.

Yuna pulled her mouth off the front King’s throbbing shaft with a wet pop, strings of saliva connecting her lips to his glistening tip. She twisted her head to glare over her shoulder at the man rutting into her from behind, her voice husky and commanding amid the haze clouding my vision.

“You’re lasting longer than I expected,” she said. “Is my pussy not as good as you thought?”

“No—it’s so good, Yuna—you’re so tight and wet—you’re so perfect.”

“Your cock is filling me all the way,” she moaned, spreading the wetness all over the other’s cock. “I can feel every inch of you inside me.”

“I’m gonna come soon,” the one behind her growled. “I can’t hold much longer.”

“Just don’t come inside me,” she begged. “Cover my skin with your cum, instead, okay?”

The rear King snarled in response, his hands sliding up her hair as he clenched a fistful while he slammed forward harder than before. “I wanna come inside of you, slave.”

He leaned over her back, forcing her chest down toward the other man’s lap, trying to pin her in place while his cock hammered into her sopping entrance, veins pulsing against her inner folds. The front King grabbed her hair, yanking her head back toward his dick.

“You’re so silly, Master.” In a swift motion, Yuna wrenched herself free from the choking grip, her pussy releasing the rear King’s shaft with a slick slide that left him groaning in frustration. “You don’t make the rules around here.”

“Come back here—”

“You see… the thing about control is that…” She spun around on her knees, facing both of them now, her hands wrapping around their drenched cocks in firm strokes. “The person who has more to offer… always wins.”

“Oh, fuck—” The men towered over her, hips bucking involuntarily into her grasp, their arguments forgotten in the building pressure.

“I’m gonna come—”

“Me too—she’s so fucking good—I’m coming—”

“Of course you are.” Yuna’s strokes quickened, her thumbs pressing into the slits, her mouth opening wide as she aimed their cocks toward her waiting lips and heaving breasts. “Give me everything, Masters.”

There was a loud choking sound, and thick waves of cum immediately erupted from the first King, splattering across her tongue and chin while the other’s landed on her chest in sticky trails that dripped down her nipples. She milked them dry with deliberate squeezes, swallowing what hit her mouth while the rest painted her skin in glistening white, her eyes locked on theirs with a triumphant smirk amid the lingering fog in my head.

“Three down,” she said, giggling as she planted little kisses on their shafts. “Three more to go.”

I blinked, and Yoohyeon was in a frenzy now, face buried between a Jack’s cheeks before another slipped his cock back into her mouth, fighting each other for her mouth—all while the two Kings beneath her took turns hammering upward while her juices glistened over her other hole.

“Hurry! Come in my mouth!” she begged between sucks, voice hoarse. “I want to taste all of you!”

The lights pulsed like heartbeats in my skull, dragging my gaze to where Yuna seamlessly sank down onto a Jack’s length like the timeline of a movie had skipped, while the other stepped up on command, fisting his shaft as she leaned forward, mouth opening wide to take him in.

“Oh, fuck! She’s so warm and tight!”

“I’ve never felt anything like this, holy shit…”

The haze pulled me even deeper, fragments of Yuna’s silhouette flickering like little shadows dancing.

She knelt before one Jack. Her lips slid along his length, tongue pressing flat against him. Behind her, the other Jack gripped her hips, his mouth pressing deep between her cheeks.

The overload hit me like a wave, scenes overlapping in my foggy brain—Yuna’s delirium blending with Yoohyeon’s satisfaction, bodies writhing together under the strobing lights. I fell to the ground, but even then, it was impossible to look away from either storm of twisted, demented lust.

The scene shifted in a blur of motion—Yuna twisting to lie atop the second Jack, her thighs framing his face as he lapped at her now dripping folds with eager strokes, his hands guiding her down. She leaned forward, mouth enveloping the other Jack’s shaft in wet suction, alternating with quick shifts to the one beneath, sucking one then the other in turn—lips gliding, tongue swirling—while her hips rocked against the warmth below. Their groans mingled with her muffled gasps, the intensity building in the pulsing lights, crashing through my veins like a distant storm.

I closed my eyes, letting the world pass me by. There were only cries of pleasure and the wet slapping of flesh on skin ringing in my ears—until she was somehow right in front of me.

“I saved you for last,” Yuna murmured, crawling across the floor toward me on all fours, skin glistening with a layer of sweat.

“W-what? Why?” I stammered, my heart pounding as her eyes locked onto mine.

“Because you’re cute,” she purred, her lips curling into a predatory smile as she sank her teeth into her lower lip. “You’re the cutest Jack I’ve ever met. I think I might have a crush on you already.”

“Yuna, wait—I’m not who you think—”

She tilted her head like a lioness ready to kill. “Yuna?”

“Sorry, I mean White—”

“I forgive you,” she said, giggling erratically like the drugs had already taken over her body. “You’re so adorable, you can call me whatever the hell you want as long as you fuck me until we both pass out.”

She wasted no time, lunging forward, lips parting wide to engulf my cock in one swift motion.

“W-wait!” I cried, but my words had been a few seconds too late.

It was like a jolt of electricity ran up my spine. The moment her tongue touched my flesh, the earth felt like it had stopped spinning. Every cell in my body cried for help, just before completely surrendering to a devastating pleasure no one was ever meant to feel.

“Mm… such a good size… plus you’re nice and yummy too,” she murmured between slurps, popping off just long enough to stroke me with both hands, twisting firmly before diving back in. “I want you as my personal Jack.”

“Yuna… holy—”

She bobbed her head faster, taking me deeper with each sloppy plunge like she was starving. I felt every detail—every movement of the saliva dripping down my shaft as the overwhelming pleasure shot straight to my core, every flick of her tongue against my skin, and every soft press of her lips against my flesh.

I gripped her hair—not for control, but for salvation. “Oh my god—” I groaned, but she only sucked harder, her white glittery nails digging into my thighs—and even that felt orgasmic.

Before I could even brace myself, I’d already exploded inside her mouth, shooting down her throat with a choked cry. Every wave felt endless, and she swallowed every pulse, milking me dry with her lips sealed around the base, tongue lapping up the overflow that escaped her mouth.

“More,” she whispered, pulling off with a wet gasp, streaks of cum leaking out the side of her mouth. “Forget the timer, I’m not done with you.”

She lunged forward again, swinging a leg over my hips to straddle me, her dripping pussy hovering just above my still throbbing cock that somehow seemed unfazed by the climax.

“Let’s take some more,” she giggled, scooping up a cluster of blue and purple tabs from the bowl on the floor and pressing them between our lips. “I want to savor you.”

“Wait—” I gasped, but my protests quickly melted as warmth spread through my chest. “I’m actually Wonyoung’s boyfriend, I’m not supposed to be here.”

“Wonnie?” she whispered back, already rubbing her folds against my length. “You’re her boyfriend?”

I nodded frantically. “Yes. I came to help her, but they—”

“How exciting.” Her eyes widened, a spark of twisted delight flashing across her face. She tangled her fingers in my hair, yanking my head back to expose my neck. “I’ve always wanted to ruin something that belonged to Wonnie.”

“W-what do you mean?” I asked, as her lips crashed onto my collarbones, all the way up to my ear. “No, you’re not thinking straight—”

Before I could finish, she impaled herself on my cock, swallowing me whole in one smooth descent. Her walls clenched around my length, forcibly dragging a moan from deep in my chest. The sensation broke everything I knew about pleasure—like plunging into liquid fire that completely rewired my brain.

“Oh my god,” I groaned, my head snapping back against the floor as stars exploded behind my eyelids. “Yuna—you feel—what on earth—”

“I want you to be mine,” she hummed, pressing her forehead against mine while staring directly into my eyes, perhaps far past my soul. “I want you to be my plaything forever.”

“No, I can’t—I’m—aah!”

“Are you sure? You’re saying no, but your eyeballs are malfunctioning,” she giggled again, almost choking on her words. “Come on—say yes, you can have my pussy forever too. Wouldn’t you love that?”

“Yuna—you’re so tight—I can feel every—god, what’s happening—”

“You can come inside me,” she breathed against my skin, her mouth latching onto my neck with a sharp suck that left a blooming mark. “I’ll allow it since you’re Wonnie’s.”

“This is wrong—” I exhaled, my mind and body betraying every part of my soul.

“Is it?” She rolled her hips in a slow, torturous grind, her clit rubbing against my pelvis while her pussy milked my shaft with rhythmic squeezes. “Then why does it feel so good?”

“Wonyoung is right there—” I cried as her juices leaked out, soaking us both.

“She has a blindfold on.”

“What if she hears us?”

“Then shh…” she hissed, nails digging into my scalp as she leaned in close, her breath hot on my ear. “Don’t let her know how good my pussy feels. Don’t let her hear you beg me for more. Don’t let her hear the way you moan my name like I’m the only girl in the world.”

I clamped my mouth shut, shaking my head, but the drugs amplified every slide of her pussy along my length, shattering any resolve I had left.

“You’re squeezing me so hard,” I whimpered, words spilling out. “It feels so good.”

“You do know this is my specialty, right? I have—”

“The best pussy ever,” I finished for her, burying my face into her neck, letting the scent of her body completely fill me up.

Yuna arched her back, lifting her arms high above her head, fingers tangling in her own sweat-dampened hair to pull it up and away to expose more of herself for me. A deep, throaty moan escaped her lips as she exposed the smooth, glistening hollows of her underarms.

The sight pulled me under like a spell. I leaned forward, my tongue darting out to trace the skin of one side, then the other, licking and sucking the warmth with slow, worshipful strokes. Her intoxicating sweat flooded my senses, making my cock pulse harder inside her clenching heat.

“Oh—wow—” she cried, her body arching even further as I reached for her wrists, pinning them behind her head. “You have a nice tongue, too.”

My free hand wrapped around her throat, squeezing just enough to make her gasp. “You’re a bad girl, Yuna.”

“Yes, I’m a bad girl, Master,” she gasped, eyes fluttering as I started pumping into her from below, holding her arms behind me while gripping her neck with my other hand. “Bad girls deserve—”

“To be punished,” I cut her off, squeezing tighter, forcing her walls to react the same way.

My body no longer belonged to me. I gently shoved her shoulders back until she toppled backwards onto the cool floor with a gasp. Her legs splayed open instinctively, thighs quivering as I gripped her ankles and yanked them wide, exposing her breathtakingly beautiful folds completely.

“God, you’re so fucking hot,” I confessed, feeling my vision blur into colored lights. “You’re literally perfect.”

“You like me too, don’t you? You want to be my mine, right?”

I drove my hips forward, slamming my cock deep into her drenched hole with heavy thrusts, the wet slap echoing through the dim room. She cried out, nails scraping the floor as I hooked one of her legs over my shoulder.

“Say my name!” she moaned, her voice now a needy whine as her breasts heaved against my chest. “Say it!”

“Yuna,” I grunted, fucking her even harder. “Yuna. You feel so good, Yuna.”

I continued fucking her like my body didn’t belong to me anymore. She wrapped her legs tighter around my waist, pulling me in, her nails digging into my back as I pounded into her. Sweat covered both of our bodies, almost intensifying the heat between us, and I gripped her thighs, spreading her wider, watching her face contort in bliss.

“You’re gonna make me come again, Master,” she panted, her eyes rolling back as the the tip of my cock slammed into her spot, sending shivers through her body.

My grip tightened on her neck, feeling her pulse race under my fingers. “Come,” I grunted. “Come for me, Yuna.”

“I want you to come inside me,” she begged, her walls fluttering wildly around me. “Fill me with your seed in front of Wonnie.”

My hands cupped her jaw, holding her firmly in place. “You’re so bad—”

“I don’t care!” she cried, clenching down to drag me closer to oblivion. “I’m a bad girl—I want it. Paint my insides with your cum, Master.”

My mouth latched onto her toes, swirling around her soft skin while I pounded into her relentlessly, each thrust stretched her walls around my throbbing length as her warm juices coated every inch of my flesh.

“Please—more—I’m coming—” she begged, her voice a wrecked whine, hips bucking up to meet my rhythm. “Your cock feels so good—it fills me so perfectly—it was made for me—”

“You’re so fucking tight—it’s unreal—” My free hand pinned her other thigh down, fingers digging into the flesh as I rammed deeper, the drugs amplifying every clench and pulse until my vision blurred at the edges.

Her moans turned to screams, body convulsing as she clenched around me, pulling me toward the edge. “Please, please, please—don’t stop—”

The pressure built unbearably as my body started thrusting erratically against my will. Before I could even process it, cum already flooded her insides.

Her back arched upwards, dragging my body with her. “Oh my god—I feel your cum everywhere, it’s so hot inside me—”

I emptied into her, wave after wave in a terrifyingly earth-shattering climax, her walls still milking every last drop as I collapsed forward over her heaving body.

The world started fading to black, and there was nothing I could do to fight it.

“Oh my,” the Dealer’s voice blended into the void. “Those two really gave us one hell of a performance, didn’t they, folks?”

Through the darkness, I felt her mouth descending eagerly on my shaft, lips wrapping around the base to suck and lick clean the mix of our fluids. Her tongue swirled around me desperately, drawing out the last remnants of my essence with wet, slurping sounds, until strong hands—perhaps attendants or guards, faceless in the haze—yanked us apart, separating our tangled bodies with firm pulls.

“No! I’m not done! I want him!” her high-pitched voice echoed in my ear.

“Miss Yuna, the round is over—”

“No! I want his cock! Let go! Let me go! I want more! Give him to me! I want him! I want to come again! No! Please!” she screamed, as everything really went to black.

--

When my eyes opened back up, the stage was even colder than before, like the room had finally decided to stop pretending to be something it wasn’t.

Guests rushed back to their seats in a blurred, restless wave, and a chaotic symphony of sounds filled the air—chairs scraping, glasses clinking, even the shuffling of masks being adjusted.

The Dealer paced across the spotlight like he couldn’t contain himself, shoes moving in impatient little clicks; his coat tails still swayed with every turn, like he was born under those lights and would die without them.

He brought a gloved hand to his chest and almost shivered. “Ladies and gentlemen… there has been a slight change of plans that many of you will find to be a real treat…” he said, almost giggling from excitement. “For our half-time show this year, we have quite the special guest…”

My body sank deeper into the padded floor, but it felt like I was lying on glass. The collar’s ring sat heavy against my throat, rising and falling with my breathing like a broken metronome I couldn’t turn off.

“Though it is her first Auction ever, she represents no House—no history, no allegiance, no past, no future. There’s only this present moment.”

The murmurs started instantly—little sparks of disbelief snapping through the audience. Gasps, whistles, even a laugh, like it was all some kind of sick joke.

I didn’t move. I didn’t even blink. My eyes stayed locked on the stage as if I looked away for even half a second, the truth would rearrange itself into everything I feared most.

“My lovely patrons…” His voice softened into a hush, like he was about to unveil the most sacred of relics. “It is my absolute pleasure to present to you…”

The spotlight narrowed. The rest of the stage fell away into darkness, and for a moment it looked like a single column of light in the middle of an ocean.

“A former Pink Ace of Clubs…”

No. Please no. God, please, not this. Anything but this.

“The beautiful, the charming, the irresistible, the remarkable…” He dragged it out, savoring every heartbeat he stole from the room. “An Yujin of IVE!”

The world went silent.

In the center of the light, a silhouette stepped forward—so painfully familiar that it made my chest fold inward. The shape of her shoulders that sheltered me through sleepless nights. The length of her legs that walked this cursed path with me. The softness of her waist that my arms once called home. And the way her hips held it all together like the sky cradling the stars.

There was a storm of applause—hands clapping, bodies standing, heads tilting.

But the only sound that made it through my ears was a scream—high, cracked, crushed, and full of terror. The kind of scream that didn’t belong in a place like this because it reminded everyone what a human voice sounded like.

“U-unnie? Unnie! Unnie, why are you here?!”

And just like that, my hearing came back all at once like someone had slammed my head underwater and yanked me out again.

“Let the bids… begin!”

End of Chapter 14.

--

A/N: Merry Christmas everyone! <3 Sorry for the late update, life has been crazy! I hope you guys enjoyed this update, see you next time!

You’re in the very back row. The cinema is half empty on a weekday evening, but no one is paying attention to the three of you.

Eunha’s hand finds your thigh first. Her fingers trace lazy circles over the denim, inching higher with every pass. She leans in, so her breath hits your ear.

“You’ve been staring at my legs since since I put this dress on.”

You don’t deny it. Instead, you slide your hand under the armrest, palm resting on her bare knee, then slowly pushing upward until your fingertips graze the hem.

Umji notices. She bites her lower lip, eyes flicking between the screen and you. Her breathing is already a little shallower. You reach over with your other hand and slowly start to pull down the zipper of her skirt. It sounds louder than it is as you open it at an agonizingly slow pace. Then, your fingers easily find warm skin, until you reach the soft cotton of her panties. She parts her thighs just a fraction, giving you room.

Eunha moves first. She glances around once, then lifts her hips subtly. With ease she reaches under her dress, hooks her panties to the side, and straddles your lap in one fluid motion. With her free hand she makes quick work of your belt and pants. Umji reaches over to fish out your hard cock and holds it in place as Eunha lowers herself slowly, guiding your tip inside her. She’s already wet and she has to bite down on her own lip to keep from moaning as you stretch her open.

The movie’s soundtrack rumbles through the speakers - gunshots, tires screeching - but all you feel is Eunha’s tight pussy enveloping you inch by inch until she’s seated fully, her ass flush against your thighs. She stays still for a moment, adjusting. Her walls have a tight grip on you. Then she starts to rock, tiny, controlled movements that look like she’s just shifting to get comfortable.

Your left hand works Umji in rhythm. You push her panties aside, two fingers sliding through her folds. She’s soaked already, clit swollen under your touch. You circle it slowly at first, then press firmer, matching the subtle grind of Eunha’s hips. Umji’s head tips back against the seat, mouth open in a silent gasp. Her hand grips your forearm, nails digging in, but she doesn’t stop you.

Eunha leans forward slightly, bracing one hand on the backrest of your seat for leverage. Her dress is bunched around her waist now, almost hidden in the dark. Every small roll of her hips grinds her clit against your pelvis. You can feel how good she feels already. Her breaths come in short, shaky bursts against your neck.

“Fuck.”

She mouths silently, not daring to speak out loud.

You thrust up gently to meet her, just enough to make her tremble. At the same time, you curl your fingers inside Umji, stroking that spot that makes her thighs shake. She clamps a hand over her own mouth, eyes squeezing shut. Her hips buck once, chasing more.

The movie drones on. A car chase. Loud music. Nobody turns around.

Eunha’s pace quickens, tiny bounces now, barely perceptible from the row in front. Her pussy clenches rhythmically, slick sounds muffled by clothing and the movie score. You feel her cunt starting to pulsate. You knew she’d get off like this in public. Her whole body tenses.

“I’m-”

She breathes against your ear, voice breaking.

Umji is right there with her. Your thumb presses hard on her clit while your fingers pump faster. She’s no better than Eunha. She loves the idea of potentially getting caught. Her walls flutter, then grip you tight. Her free hand flies to her mouth again as her orgasm hits. Her thighs clamp around your wrist.

They cum at the same time. Eunha buries her face in your shoulder, biting down on your shirt to stifle the whimper as she shudders around your cock. Her pussy spasms, milking you hard, wet heat flooding over you. Umji’s body jerks once, twice, a muffled keen escaping between her fingers as she soaks your hand.

The dual sensation - Eunha clenching and fluttering on your length while Umji pulses around your fingers - snaps your control. You thrust up one last time, burying yourself deep, and let go. Thick spurts of cum fill Eunha’s cunt. Pulse after pulse. Until you feel it start to leak out around where you’re joined. She keeps rocking through it, slow and greedy, drawing out every drop.

When the aftershocks fade, Eunha carefully lifts herself off, a soft wet sound accompanying the movement. She settles back into her seat, dress smoothed down, cheeks flushed. Your cum is already trickling down her inner thigh.

Umji doesn’t hesitate. She slides off her seat and kneels between your legs in the narrow space, hidden by the seatback in front. Her dark hair curtains her face as she leans in. Eunha spreads her thighs wider, hooking one leg over the armrest. Umji’s tongue darts out, lapping at the creamy mess leaking from Eunha’s pussy. She’s thorough and hungry. She flattens her tongue, dragging it from the bottom up, collecting every drop. Eunha sighs softly, fingers threading through Umji’s hair. Umji moans quietly against Eunha’s folds. The vibration making Eunha twitch. She sucks gently on Eunha’s clit, then dips lower again, tongue pushing inside to scoop out more of your load.

You watch, still half hard. Umji’s eyes flick up to meet yours for a second, before she returns to her task. She cleans Eunha until there’s nothing left to leak, until Eunha is trembling again from overstimulation, thighs quivering around Umji’s head.

Finally, Umji pulls back, lips glossy, a thin strand of cum and arousal connecting her mouth to Eunha for a heartbeat before it snaps. She licks her lips, then climbs back into her seat, casual as if she’d just dropped a piece of popcorn.

Eunha reaches over, brushing a thumb across Umji’s lower lip, wiping away the last trace.

“Good girl.”

The credits roll. Lights slowly brighten. You adjust yourself, heart still pounding. Umji smooths her hair. Eunha fixes her dress.

Eunha clenched her pillow over her ears, but it was no use. The noises seemed to seep through the fabric, crawling under her skin like a relentless itch. Each gasp and moan hit her with jarring sharpness, as if mocking her failed attempts at peace. The bedframe’s incessant squeaks provided a rhythm to the chaos, an unrelenting reminder of what was happening mere feet away. She sat rigid on her bed, her teeth gritted so tightly her jaw ached. Her heart pounded in her chest, not from embarrassment but from pure, boiling frustration.

The moans built higher and higher, peaking with a sharp, guttural scream. “Ohhh—yes!” The sound stretched out, lingering in the air as the bedframe gave one final, forceful creak before silence fell.

The stillness that followed should have been a reprieve, but it wasn’t. It only magnified the absurdity of the situation, the weight of her irritation pressing down on her chest. She let the pillow fall from her hands, her gaze fixed on the cracked ceiling as her breath came in uneven bursts. The faint scent of lavender from her diffuser drifted through the room, its calming intention now nothing but a cruel joke.

This was her sanctuary—her home. Or at least, it was supposed to be. Instead, it felt like she was the intruder, an unwelcome guest in her own space.

It wasn’t just the frequency of these escapades, though they had escalated to near-nightly rituals. It was the complete disregard—the audacity to treat their shared apartment like a personal playground, to push her patience to the breaking point without so much as an acknowledgment.

With a sharp inhale, Eunha swung her legs over the side of the bed, the cool wood flooring grounding her as her frustration surged. She shoved herself into her oversized hoodie, the fabric heavy against her skin, and stormed toward the hallway. Each step was deliberate, her bare feet making soft, muted thuds on the worn hardwood. The flickering bathroom light at the far end of the hall cast erratic shadows on the walls, making the narrow space feel both claustrophobic and foreboding. The air was heavy, thick with a lingering warmth that seemed to seep through the apartment from your room.

As she reached the hallway, the muffled murmur of voices caught her ear. A giggle—soft and self-satisfied—floated through the stillness, followed by the unmistakable sound of your door creaking open. Eunha froze, just for a moment, letting her anger sharpen as her gaze fixed on the corner where the hallway turned.

When you appeared, the sight of you leaning casually against the doorframe was almost enough to send her over the edge. The lazy smirk curling at your lips, the easy, unbothered confidence in your posture—it was infuriating. But it wasn’t just you. Draped against your arm, looking equally disheveled, was Umji— one of her closest friends.

Eunha’s breath caught in her throat as her gaze locked onto her. No. No way.

Umji’s hair was a tangled mess, loose strands clinging to her flushed cheeks. Her makeup was smudged, faint streaks of mascara trailing under her eyes, which darted away as soon as they met Eunha’s. A collection of red marks decorated her neck in uneven patterns, stark against her pale skin. Her lips, swollen and trembling slightly, glistened faintly as though they’d just come up for air. The hem of her mini-dress hung unevenly, the fabric wrinkled and askew as though hastily pulled back into place. Most noticeable, though, were her legs—wobbly, hesitant steps that made the sound of her heels on the hardwood uneven. She clutched your arm for support, her fingers curling into your sleeve like a lifeline.

“Hey!” Eunha’s voice sliced through the stillness, sharp and unyielding. The sound echoed down the hallway, and both you and Umji froze.

You turned slowly, clearly unhurried, the smirk on your face deepening as your gaze met Eunha’s. “Something on your mind, Eunha?” you asked, your voice a drawl of mockery. The lazy tone only fanned the flames of her irritation.

But Eunha barely registered you. Her focus was locked on Umji, who flinched under the weight of her glare. Her posture shifted awkwardly, her hands fluttering uselessly at the hem of her dress, as though she could somehow straighten out what had already been done. Her cheeks were flushed a deeper red now, her lips parting as if she wanted to speak, but no words came. Her gaze darted back to the floor.

Eunha’s fists tightened at her sides as she took a step closer, her pulse pounding in her ears. The hallway felt oppressively small now, the dim light casting jagged shadows across the walls and your smug face. The faint scent of Umji’s floral perfume lingered in the air, mingling with the unmistakable musk of sweat, creating a cloying atmosphere that made Eunha’s stomach churn.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Eunha finally said, her voice low and trembling with fury. Her words were directed at Umji, whose trembling hands fidgeted with the hem of her dress.

“Eunha, I—” Umji began, her voice cracking as she looked up, her tearful gaze locking with Eunha’s.

“You what?” Eunha snapped, taking another step closer. “You knew. You knew how much I’ve complained about him—how much he’s driven me insane. Hell, I spent hours venting to you, and you always agreed with me. Told me I was right to hate him. And now you’re just… this?”

“It’s not like that,” Umji said, her voice barely above a whisper. Her shoulders curled inward as though she were trying to make herself smaller. “I didn’t plan—”

“Didn’t plan it?” Eunha interrupted, her voice rising. “That’s all you’ve got? You didn’t plan to hook up with him? Do you realize how screwed up this is?” Her voice wavered, her anger laced with hurt that she couldn’t quite hide.

“I didn’t mean for it to happen,” Umji pleaded, her lips trembling as fresh tears filled her eyes. “It was—it was stupid, okay? I made a mistake.”

Eunha let out a sharp, bitter laugh. “A mistake? That’s what this is to you? A mistake?” Her voice cracked as she gestured at the red marks on Umji’s neck, the uneven dress straps, the swollen lips that spoke of the hours Eunha had unwillingly endured through the walls. “You’ve seen how much he’s made my life hell, and now you’re just another name to add to his list.”

“I know I messed up,” Umji whispered, her tears spilling over now, streaking her smudged mascara further. “I didn’t mean to hurt you, I’m sorry.”

Eunha shook her head, her chest heaving as she fought the wave of emotion threatening to overwhelm her. She turned her glare to you, standing there with that smug, satisfied smirk plastered across your face like this was all some kind of twisted joke. “And you,” she spat, her voice dripping with contempt. “You’re disgusting.”

You shrugged, your smile deepening as you raised your hands in mock innocence. “Hey, don’t blame me for what she wanted.”

The casualness of your response nearly made Eunha snap. Her nails dug into her palms, but she forced herself to take a deep breath, swallowing the venom that threatened to spill over.

“Unbelievable,” Eunha muttered, turning her attention back to Umji. Her voice dropped, quieter now but no less sharp, each word laced with the sting of betrayal. “I can’t even look at you right now.”

Umji opened her mouth, her lips trembling as though she wanted to explain, to apologize, but Eunha didn’t wait to hear it. She spun on her heel, her steps echoing sharply down the hallway as she stormed toward her room. The flickering light overhead illuminated the unshed tears brimming in her eyes, though the heat of her anger kept them from falling. The ache in her chest twisted deeper with every step, but she didn’t dare let it show.

At the threshold of her room, she paused, her knuckles whitening as she gripped the doorframe. She turned, her glare icy and unwavering as it locked onto you. Her voice was curt, sharp enough to cut through the suffocating tension. Enough was enough.

“Look, we need to talk. Now.”

You sighed, the sound heavy with reluctant amusement. “I’ll text you later, okay?” you said smoothly, glancing at Umji as though she wasn’t Eunha’s closest friend, but just another girl in a long string of conquests. Your words carried a deliberate nonchalance, almost as if you’d chosen them specifically to twist the knife deeper.

Umji hesitated, her nervous giggle betraying her unease as she glanced between the two of you. Her hands fluttered to smooth her rumpled dress, but the fabric clung stubbornly to her curves, refusing to cooperate. Her face was still flushed, her tears still wet, and she seemed to shrink under Eunha’s glare. With a small, almost inaudible “sorry,” she wobbled toward the door on unsteady legs, her heels clicking softly against the floor. The sound seemed to echo in the tense silence as the door clicked shut behind her.

The apartment fell into an oppressive quiet, broken only by the faint hum of the refrigerator. Your demeanor shifted slightly, the amused smirk on your lips fading into something more guarded. You leaned casually against the wall, crossing your arms over your chest as you regarded Eunha with a faintly raised eyebrow. “What’s this about?”

Eunha didn’t ease into it. Her voice, trembling with hurt and fury, spilled out before she could stop herself. “You know exactly what this is about.  Maybe I could’ve lived with the random girls. Maybe I could’ve dealt with it. But Umji? My best friend? You knew who she was to me, and you still went ahead and—” She choked on the word, her hands trembling as she gestured toward the now-empty hallway. “You went ahead and made her just another body. Another notch on your bedpost. Do you even realize what you’ve done?”

Your expression didn’t change, but your gaze flickered, just for a moment, something unreadable passing across your face. “It’s not like I forced her into anything,” you replied, your tone calm, detached. “She wanted it. That’s on her, not me.”

Eunha stared at you, stunned into silence for a heartbeat before her anger reignited, hotter and sharper than before. “Are you serious right now? She wanted it? She’s my best friend! She’s not just some random girl you can screw and forget about. She’s—” Her voice cracked, and she shook her head, tears brimming in her eyes. “She’s supposed to matter.”

“And what do you want me to do about it?” you asked, your voice maddeningly calm. “It happened. It’s done. Are you mad at me for having fun, or at her for making a choice?”

“Both!” Eunha shouted, her voice echoing through the apartment. “But you—you knew better. You knew exactly what this would do to me, and you did it anyway. Like you didn’t care. Like I don’t matter at all.”

Her chest heaved, her glare blazing with all the hurt she hadn’t yet put into words. Her hands shook as she tried to hold herself together, her nails digging into her palms.

“I’m sick of this,” Eunha snapped after a moment, her tone trembling with barely-contained anger. “Every night, it’s some random girl, and I have to hear everything. I live here too, you know.”

You shrugged, your tone light and dismissive. “Can’t help it if they get loud.”

Her jaw dropped, disbelief flashing across her face before anger surged in to replace it. “Oh, please,” she hissed, her cheeks flushing crimson. “Those moans? They’re all fake, and you know it. You’re not that good.”

The familiar smile crept back onto your face, a gleam of amusement dancing in your eyes. You leaned forward slightly, the air between you growing heavy. “Jealous, are we?”

Eunha stiffened, narrowing her eyes as the heat in her face climbed. “Jealous? Of those bimbos you bring home? Hardly.”

Your smirk widened as you took a half-step closer, closing the already narrowing space between you. “Sounds like jealousy to me. Otherwise, why would you care so much about what happens in my room?”

Eunha’s eyes blazed, “Because it’s my apartment too!” Her voice rose, conviction lacing every word. “I have the right to set some ground rules here. This is supposed to be a home, not a dating service. We need to set some ground rules.”

The tension between you hung thick in the air, almost tangible. The faint hum of the refrigerator from the kitchen seemed deafening in the charged silence that followed. Your gazes locked, a silent battle of wills playing out in the dimly lit hallway. This wasn’t just about noise anymore; it was about respect, boundaries, and the collision of two people whose lives were incompatible in ways neither was willing to admit.

“Ground rules, huh?” you said finally, your voice low, almost teasing. Your arms remained crossed, but the mischievous sparkle in your eyes returned. “Okay, I’ll bite. What do you suggest, then?”

Eunha hesitated, her frustration bubbling to the surface in an exasperated huff. “You can’t bring anyone home anymore.”

You blinked, clearly taken aback for a moment, before letting out a bark of laughter that echoed off the walls. “What? You’re serious?”

“Dead serious,” Eunha replied, her tone firm, her arms crossed tightly in defiance.

You shook your head, the corners of your mouth twitching upward. “That’s not going to happen. I’m human; I have needs.”

“Then take them somewhere else, get a hotel room I don't care,” Eunha shot back, her voice steady but laced with challenge.

You tilted your head slightly, studying her with a curious intensity. The tension between you seemed to thrum louder, like a taut string about to snap. Slowly, a wicked grin spread across your face, your eyes lighting up with an idea.

“How about we make things interesting?” you said, your tone dripping with intrigue.

Eunha’s frown deepened, suspicion coloring her features. “How so?”

“A bet.”

“A bet?” she repeated, her tone steeped in skepticism. Her arms remained folded, her glare unwavering. 

Your grin widened, a wicked gleam dancing in your eyes. “Yeah. Since you think they’re all faking it, how about this—we both go down on each other, and the first one to make the other cum wins.”

Eunha blinked, momentarily taken aback. The air in the hallway seemed to thicken, her breath hitching in her throat as the weight of your audacious proposition settled between you. “You’ve got to be joking,” she said, her voice steady but laced with disbelief.

You shrugged nonchalantly, the faint hum of the refrigerator in the background punctuating the charged silence. “You said I wasn’t that good. Prove it. If you win, I’ll stop bringing girls over entirely. But if I win…”

Eunha raised an eyebrow, her lips pressing into a thin line. “What’s in it for you?” Her voice carried a sharp edge, but there was a flicker of curiosity beneath it, almost imperceptible.

You leaned in slightly, the dim light from the overhead fixture casting a shadow across your face. Your voice dropped to a low, teasing tone, each word dripping with confidence. “You. Anytime, anyplace, for a week.”

Eunha’s breath caught, her pulse quickening as the sheer boldness of your words hit her. Heat crept up her neck, but it wasn’t just anger—it was the challenge, the audacity, the smugness in your tone that fanned the flames of her pride. There was no way you could win, not against her. She was hellbent on the fact that every moan that came out of your room was nothing but an act—girls faking it to stroke your ego because they didn’t know any better. Nothing about you screamed impressive..

“No way we are doing a week; that’s too long,” Eunha countered firmly, crossing her arms over her chest in defiance. Her heart raced, but she kept her tone steady.

You were unfazed, leaning back slightly with an exaggerated shrug, as though victory was already in your grasp. “Okay, what about over the course of a week? Three sessions of use with you, same as before, any time, any place.”

Eunha’s jaw tightened as she considered your alternative, the weight of your words settling like a dare she couldn’t refuse. The light buzz of adrenaline coursing through her veins made her palms feel clammy, but she straightened her spine, meeting your gaze with fire in her eyes. “Fine,” she said, her voice unwavering. “You’re on.”

Your grin widened, the corners of your mouth curling with triumph, as if you’d already won. “Let’s make some ground rules, then.”

The quiet apartment is suddenly alive with the undercurrent of challenge. The faint creak of the floorboards under your steps seemed louder in the silence. The terms were simple—no hands allowed, and the first one to cum would lose. It wasn’t just a game of skill, but of endurance, control, and unspoken stakes that neither of you fully acknowledged.

As the final terms were set, you led Eunha to your room—a space she’d passed by countless times, now feeling alien and charged with a dangerous intimacy. The air hit her first, thick with the unmistakable scent of musk and lingering arousal. The faint trace of Umji’s floral perfume mingled with something far more primal, twisting in Eunha’s stomach like a knot. Her throat tightened. She couldn’t ignore it—the room still carried her best friend’s presence, an unwelcome ghost that clung to the atmosphere and prickled at Eunha’s skin.

She steeled herself, pushing aside the pang of discomfort. She wasn’t here to wallow or falter. She was here to win. Today, this was her game.

The door clicked shut behind, and the sound echoed like a gunshot in the still room. You wasted no time, your movements deliberate as you peeled off your shirt with casual confidence, the dim light from the bedside lamp casting sharp shadows across your skin. Anticipation danced in your dark eyes, glinting with amusement as they traced her figure.

Eunha swallowed hard, a swell of nerves rising in her chest as she met your gaze. But she refused to falter. She reached for the hem of her shirt, pulling it over her head with a decisive motion, baring herself piece by piece until she stood completely exposed before you—naked and unflinching. The cool air of the room kissed her skin, raising goosebumps that she refused to acknowledge. Her chin tilted up defiantly, her resolve unshaken.

With a playful glint in your eyes, you gestured toward the bed, your lips curling into a smirk. “Ladies first?” you quipped, your voice dripping with amusement.

Eunha shot you a fierce glare, her jaw tightening as she fought the urge to fire back with something sharper. Instead, she climbed onto the bed, her movements purposeful and precise. But the moment her knees hit the mattress, a wave of discomfort washed over her. The dampness beneath her palms was unmistakable, the sheets faintly musky from Umji’s earlier release. A surge of anger flared in her chest, tightening her throat. Her best friend’s ghost clung to this space—this bed—turning what should have been just another challenge into something deeply personal.

You followed her onto the bed, your movements deliberate and unhurried, as if you had all the time in the world. You reached out, hands brushing against her hips as you guided her to straddle you. Her legs trembled slightly as she adjusted, the heat of your hands sending a jolt through her body that she stubbornly ignored. You leaned back, your smirk deepening as you settled into the mattress, entirely at ease. The flicker of amusement in your eyes burned against Eunha’s pride, daring her to falter, daring her to lose.

Her breath quickened, her pulse hammering in her ears as she hovered over you. The room seemed to shrink, the space between your bodies charged with a tension that felt almost electric. The scent of musk, sweat, and lingering arousal swirled around them, thick and inescapable, amplifying the intimacy of the moment.

For the first time, as her gaze flickered downward, she noticed something she’d never truly paid attention to before—your length, larger than she had cared to admit. The sheer size of you made her stomach flip, a wave of heat rushing through her so suddenly that it took her breath away. Her thighs pressed together instinctively, as if to stave off the reaction, but the faint ache building within her betrayed her efforts.

Her eyes lingered for a moment too long, tracing the prominent veins and the way you moved with an air of ease that only added to the magnetic pull you exuded. The sight was overwhelming, a reminder of your control, and it sent her mind spinning with thoughts she wasn’t ready to face.

A faint flush crept up her neck, her skin burning with a mixture of embarrassment and something she couldn’t quite name. She swallowed hard, forcing her expression to remain neutral as she tore her gaze away, her heart pounding in her chest. Determination flickered in her eyes as she tried to bury the reaction deep inside her, willing herself to focus on anything else.

This wasn’t about distractions or nerves; this was about her pride. Her chance to make you crumble as so many others before you had. She wasn’t just playing your game; she was going to win it.

As she leaned closer, the warmth of your skin radiated against hers, the proximity amplifying every sensation. The mattress shifted beneath you both, the springs groaning softly as the challenge truly began.

She began her assault slowly, her tongue tracing along your length, savoring the way you twitched beneath her touch. A smirk curled her lips as she realized you were already responding—a thrill of satisfaction coursed through her. He’s already losing, she thought, emboldened by the spark of confidence igniting within her.

Yet, the tables turned as your hands gripped her hips, pulling her down toward your waiting mouth with a deliberate, unyielding strength. The unexpected forwardness startled her, and she couldn’t help but gasp. Your tongue found her folds, teasingly exploring her with excruciating slowness. The touch sent shivers radiating through her core, making her body tense involuntarily.

Stay focused, she reminded herself, though the heat building inside her made it harder to concentrate. She picked up her pace, taking you deeper into her mouth, swirling her tongue with precision. Each low groan that escaped your lips reverberated through her, sending jolts of satisfaction surging through her. She poured every ounce of her determination into conditioning your reactions, her confidence surging with every twitch, every shallow breath you took.

She sensed her victory was close—your breath quickened, and she could feel you throbbing against her tongue. A few more moments, and she’d have you. She could almost taste the win.

But then, without warning, you shifted, your tongue pressing against a hidden, sensitive spot deep within her. The sudden, sharp jolt of pleasure ripped through her, a sensation so intense it stole her breath. A startled gasp escaped her lips before she could stifle it. And then you followed it up, your mouth latching onto her clit, sucking and teasing with just enough pressure to send her spiraling further into a haze of pleasure. Each flick of your tongue and gentle graze of your teeth seemed designed to dismantle her resolve, targeting every weakness she didn’t know she had.

Her body trembled, betraying her will as waves of ecstasy built within her, each one cresting higher than the last. She struggled to focus, to push forward and finish what she started, but it was no use. You were relentless, and her body was betraying her. Every stroke of your tongue felt impossibly perfect, a symphony of sensations that left her teetering on the edge.

And then it hit her.

The orgasm crashed over her like a thunderclap, a shockwave of pleasure so sudden and intense it left her reeling. It wasn’t just unexpected—it was overwhelming. Her breath hitched, a strangled moan escaping her lips as her entire body bowed against her will. It was unlike anything she’d ever felt, a climax so raw and consuming it rivaled her best and obliterated any sense of control she thought she had. Her thighs clamped reflexively around your head, trembling with the force of the pleasure wracking her body. She couldn’t stop herself—the sensation was too much, too all-encompassing to resist.

As the waves of ecstasy reached their peak, you thrust slightly deeper into her mouth, her lips stretched around you as she choked softly on your length. The sensation of being taken so completely sent a fresh jolt of pleasure surging through her, intensifying her climax beyond what she thought was possible. Her body shuddered violently, her muscles tightening as her cries became muffled, the act heightening the overwhelming rush of release.

Every nerve in her body felt electrified, every inch of her skin hypersensitive to the slightest touch. Her heartbeat pounded furiously in her chest, each thrum echoing like a drumbeat in the heavy silence of the room. The way you filled her, the weight of your presence pressing her further into surrender, only amplified the depth of her response, dragging her into a state of pure, unrelenting bliss.

The waves of pleasure seemed endless, each pulse pulling her deeper into the abyss. Her mind blurred, the edges of thought dissolving into a haze of sensation that left her powerless, her breaths coming in shallow, desperate gasps. Time stretched and warped, the peak of ecstasy feeling like an eternity as it consumed her completely.

When the tremors finally subsided, she collapsed against the mattress, her body limp and her mind clouded with disbelief. Her chest heaved with each ragged breath, her limbs heavy as if weighed down by the aftershocks of her release. The room felt distant, blurred by the haze of ecstasy still humming through her body.

Her lips remained around you, the weight of you resting on her tongue unnoticed at first as her mind buzzed with the intensity of what she had just experienced. Slowly, instinctively, her tongue began to move, tracing along your length in lazy, absent circles. It was almost reflexive, her body responding without thought, as if it craved the connection even as her mind struggled to process the reality of it all.

For a moment, she was lost in the act, her senses dulled and her body still pulsing with residual pleasure. But as clarity returned, the realization struck her like a cold wave. Her cheeks flushed a deep crimson as her senses snapped back into focus, and she quickly pulled back, her lips parting as she released you.

Her heart pounded as she shifted away, her hands trembling as she tried to gather herself. How could this have happened? The thought lingered, sharp and insistent, as she struggled to reconcile the overwhelming pleasure with the reality that it had been your tongue—and her own instincts—that unraveled her so completely.

Eunha’s frustration boiled as you chuckled beneath her, your low, smug laughter sending waves of embarrassment coursing through her. Pulling back, you rose to a sitting position, your dark eyes gleaming with satisfaction. “Looks like I won,” you said, your voice dripping with self-assured confidence.

A mix of humiliation and indignation simmered in her chest. “No! You… you cheated!” she blurted, scrambling off you in a frantic attempt to reclaim some semblance of dignity. Her movements were hurried and awkward, betraying her flustered state as she tugged at the rumpled sheets to cover herself.

You arched an eyebrow, the corner of your mouth curling into a smirk that only deepened her frustration. “Cheated?” you repeated, your tone light, teasing. “Sounds like a sore loser to me.”

Eunha’s jaw tightened as she glared at you, her hands balling into fists at her sides. “You… did something! I don’t know what, but there’s no way! That wasn’t—it doesn’t count!” Her voice wavered as she scrambled for excuses, her mind racing to rewrite what had just happened. “I didn’t even cum—so you didn’t win,” she mumbled, her words tumbling out in a desperate attempt to shift the narrative, even as her own body betrayed her.

Your smirk widened, and you leaned forward, the playful glint in your eyes sparking a fresh wave of heat in her cheeks. “Didn’t cum, huh?” you asked, your voice low and taunting, the kind of tone that made her heart pound in equal parts irritation and something else she refused to name.

Before she could retort, you moved swiftly. Your fingers brushed against her slick folds, gathering the unmistakable evidence of her release. She gasped, her breath catching in her throat as her body jolted at the unexpected touch. You brought your fingers to your lips, savoring the taste with a deliberate, slow flick of your tongue.

Then, closing the distance between you, you captured her lips in a searing kiss, your hands firm against her waist. The taste of herself lingered on your lips, undeniable proof of what had just transpired. “Doesn’t it taste just like cum?” you teased, your words a whispered challenge against her lips.

Eunha froze, her mind spinning as the truth crashed down on her. The heat of your mouth, the unmistakable taste, the trembling in her thighs—there was no denying it. She had climaxed, and you had won.

But she wasn’t ready to admit it.

“That doesn’t mean anything!” she snapped, her voice sharp, though it wavered slightly at the edges. She pulled back, her hands trembling as she gestured wildly, trying to regain control of the situation. “You… you probably did something weird—something dirty! I wasn’t even ready! It’s not fair!” Her excuses came out in a rush, desperate and unconvincing even to her own ears.

Your chuckle deepened, rich and mocking, as you watched her unravel. “Face it, Eunha,” you said, your tone dripping with amusement. “I won, fair and square.”

Without any more options, she stumbled to her feet, her movements hurried and frantic as she reached for her discarded clothes. “Whatever,” she muttered, her voice thick with humiliation as she avoided your gaze. “This was a stupid bet anyway.”

But before she could make her escape, a sharp smack echoed through the room as your hand connected playfully with her rear. The stinging heat made her yelp, and she spun around, glaring at you with wide, furious eyes. Her face burned crimson, the mixture of anger and lingering embarrassment practically radiating off her.

“Deal’s a deal,” you said, your voice low and teasing, the grin on your face infuriatingly smug. “I’ll be collecting my prize soon.”

Eunha’s heart pounded, your words settling deep in her chest and sending a strange, unsettling mix of dread and anticipation coursing through her. She couldn’t bring herself to respond, her mouth opening and closing uselessly as she scrambled for a comeback that refused to come.

Without another word, she stormed out of the room, her footsteps echoing sharply down the hallway. The slam of her door reverberated through the apartment, a sharp punctuation to the moment. Alone in her room, Eunha pressed her back against the door, her breath coming in shallow, uneven gasps as her emotions swirled in chaotic waves—anger, embarrassment, and something she refused to name.

-----

The next day, the morning sun filtered through the sheer curtains of Eunha's room, casting delicate golden patterns that danced across the floorboards like restless shadows. The warmth of daylight touched her skin, but it did little to temper the knot of discomfort and anticipation twisting in her stomach. She lay face down on her bed, her laptop propped in front of her, fingers hovering over the keyboard. She typed half-heartedly, forcing herself to focus on the screen. Yet, the weight of your presence in the room made it impossible.

Your quiet breathing behind her felt louder than it should, filling the air with a tension she couldn’t escape. She bit her lip, her body prickling with awareness against her will. This was her sanctuary, her room. A place where she was supposed to feel safe and in control. Yet now, under your gaze, it felt different. Oppressive. Confusing. The line between intrusion and something else entirely blurred in ways she wasn’t ready to face.

“Ready for your first session?” Your voice, low and deliberate, broke through the quiet. The words cut through her thoughts, making her body tense instinctively. She froze, her breath catching, unsure whether it was defiance or dread keeping her silent.  

The bed dipped under your weight, and suddenly, you were there, behind her. She stiffened as your hands brushed over her hips, slipping beneath the hem of her shirt. The soft rustle of fabric was deafening in the quiet room. 

She wanted to protest, to tell you she wasn’t enjoying this, but the words stuck in her throat. Instead, her breath hitched as your fingers trailed lightly over the curve of her back. Your touch sent tingles racing across her skin, her body responding even as her mind recoiled. It wasn’t fair. She hated how her body betrayed her, how it melted under your hands like it had been waiting for this.

You started slowly, your lips brushing featherlight kisses along her shoulders. She clenched her fists, burying her face into the pillow as you worked your way lower. Each kiss left a trail of heat in its wake, your mouth moving with maddening patience down the length of her back. When your teeth grazed her skin, she let out a muffled gasp, her body jerking slightly before settling back into place.

Eunha squeezed her eyes shut, trying to block out the sensations overwhelming her. I can't believe this is happening, she thought desperately, her cheeks burning as your lips pressed against the small of her back. She wanted to hate it, hate you, but the way her body responded made it impossible to ignore. Each touch, each teasing bite, only deepened the confusion swirling inside her.

When your lips brushed against the curve of her plump cheeks, she trembled. Her skin tingled as you lingered, planting slow, deliberate kisses before giving a playful nip that sent a jolt through her. She buried her face deeper into the pillow, her breath ragged, her resolve crumbling.

“You’re already reacting so much,” you teased, your voice soft but smug. “I haven’t even touched you.”

Her heart raced at your words, embarrassment and arousal mingling in a way that made her stomach twist. She hated how much she wanted you to keep going, how her body leaned into your touch even as her mind screamed at her to pull away.

Your hands slid down her thighs, coaxing them apart as your fingers finally brushed over her folds. She gasped, the heat pooling in her core undeniable. Why does this feel so good? she thought, biting her lip as you teased her, never quite giving her what she wanted.

“Look at you,” you murmured, your tone laced with amusement. “Soaking through your sheets, just like your friend.”

Her body trembled as your fingers continued their slow, agonizing exploration. Her breath hitched when you finally slid her shorts down, exposing her fully. She felt vulnerable, raw, and yet… exhilarated.

You gripped her hips, lifting them slightly so her chest remained pressed to the bed. Her back arched naturally, and her cheeks flushed with heat as you adjusted her position, leaving her most sensitive areas exposed. The vulnerability made her heart race, her breath catching in her throat as she felt your presence so close behind her.

Your hands moved deliberately, spreading her cheeks wide. The cool air of the room kissed her exposed skin, making her shiver as the contrast of warmth and chill heightened her awareness. Her breath hitched when she felt the faintest, deliberate puff of air against her sex. The sensation sent a jolt through her, her body clenching instinctively as a soft whimper escaped her lips. Her folds quivered under the sensation, and even the tight ring behind them pulsed faintly in response, betraying her heightened sensitivity.

You chuckled softly, watching as her body reacted under your control. “So sensitive,” you murmured, your voice low and teasing. The way her body responded to even the gentlest stimulation was intoxicating. Leaning closer, you let your breath wash over her again, this time more deliberate, the warm puff grazing her slick skin.

The tremble of her folds deepened, her body betraying her completely as the light air teased her again. Her tight ring pulsated under your gaze, the reaction mesmerizing as you held her there, savoring every flicker of her submission. You’re so sexy,” you said softly, your tone filled with admiration. “Your body loves every second of this.”

She whimpered again, burying her face into the mattress as the sensations overwhelmed her. The deliberate teasing left her trembling, her body attuned to every movement, every breath. You watched her, enthralled by the way she surrendered to the moment, her reactions igniting a fire that neither of you could resist.

When your tongue flicked out, finally meeting her folds, she let out a muffled cry, the pillow swallowing her voice. The first touch stole what little resolve she had left, her hips jerking slightly before your firm grip steadied her in place. The heat of your mouth and the coolness lingering from the air created a dizzying contrast that left her gasping.

As your tongue delved deeper, teasing her sensitive nub, her entire body jolted with the intensity of the sensation. You alternated between soft, teasing licks and firm strokes, your hands gripping her hips tightly to keep her exactly where you wanted her. Her legs trembled, her mind a whirlwind of contradictions—she hated this, hated how you were making her feel, and yet, she couldn’t get enough.

“You like this, don’t you?” you murmured between strokes, your breath warm against her slick skin. “You don’t want to admit it, but your body’s already told me everything I need to know.”

Eunha whimpered, her chest pressing harder into the mattress as she fought against the overwhelming sensations. The way you spoke, the confidence in your voice, sent shivers racing down her spine. She hated that you were right. No matter how much her mind resisted, her body had already surrendered completely.

The safety of her room, once her refuge, now felt foreign. The air was heavy, charged with arousal that clung to every surface. She couldn’t escape it—the pull of her own body responding to you, the way her most vulnerable self was laid bare for your enjoyment. It was maddening. It was exhilarating. And she couldn’t stop it.

Then, to her surprise, you added a finger. The digit entered with no resistance, sliding into her warmth effortlessly as her slickness coated you. When you curled it just right, a sharp cry tore from her lips, muffled by the pillow beneath her. Her body tightened around you, a jolt of pleasure surging through her as her hips rocked back instinctively.

The combination of your tongue, tracing deliberate strokes over her sensitive nub, and the rhythmic motion of your finger inside her sent her spiraling. Her mind became a haze, her thoughts scattering as the sensations grew overwhelming. The tension in her core tightened with every flick, every stroke, building to a crescendo she couldn’t escape.

Her body arched off the bed as the climax hit her like a tidal wave, crashing over her with a force that made her gasp and scream into the pillow. The sound was raw, filled with a mix of ecstasy and disbelief. Warm liquid hit your tongue as her release washed over her, her body responding with an intensity she hadn’t anticipated. It was as if her body moved entirely on its own, separate from her mind, completely out of her control.

Her legs shook violently, her thighs trembling against your face as you held her steady. Every nerve in her body felt electrified, the waves of pleasure rolling through her like an unstoppable tide. Her hands clutched at the sheets beneath her, twisting them until the once perfectly made bed was a disheveled mess. Her breath came in ragged gasps, her chest heaving as the aftershocks left her weak and trembling.

As her body began to calm, her mind reeled from the intensity of it all. She had never experienced anything so raw, so all-consuming. It felt like her body wasn’t even hers anymore, like it had betrayed her completely. The humiliation of that realization mixed with the undeniable satisfaction thrumming through her veins, creating a cocktail of emotions that left her dizzy.

You pulled back slowly, savoring the sight of her undone beneath you. Your lips brushed one last kiss against her inner thigh, a soft, deliberate reminder of the control you held over her. “One down,” you murmured, your voice low and dripping with satisfaction.

Eunha collapsed fully against the bed, her body melting into the mattress as her limbs refused to move. Her breath came in shallow gasps, her skin flushed and slick with sweat. She buried her face into the pillow, her mind scrambling to process what had just happened. Shame flickered in the back of her thoughts, but it was drowned out by the lingering heat of her arousal.

She hated herself for how much she’d wanted it, for how completely she had surrendered to you. Yet, no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t push away the memory of your touch. The echo of your lips, your fingers, and the way her body had responded to you replayed in her mind like a vivid dream she couldn’t shake.

Even as she lay there, trembling and spent, a part of her was terrified by how much she craved more. She wasn’t fully yours yet—but the seed had been planted. And deep down, she knew that resisting you would only get harder from here.

-----

“Don’t worry, Mom, I’m fine,” Eunha said softly, her voice light but tinged with just enough warmth to reassure her mother. She leaned back against the couch, the phone pressed firmly to her ear. Her mother’s concern was a comforting constant, a tether to the normalcy Eunha was trying desperately to cling to.

“Are you sure? You’ve sounded tired lately,” her mother said, the familiar tone of worry pulling a faint smile from Eunha despite the storm brewing within her.

“I’m just busy, that’s all. Nothing to worry about,” she replied, her words practiced, as if they could steady her own wavering thoughts.

Her mother’s warm laugh filtered through the line, wrapping around her like a blanket. “You always say that. Don’t forget to take care of yourself, okay?”

“I won’t, I promise,” Eunha said, her chest tightening at the kindness in her mother’s voice. She focused on the conversation, trying to lose herself in its comfort, but the weight of your presence was impossible to ignore.

You were there, lounging beside her on the couch, your energy filling the room like a storm cloud. When her gaze flicked to you, her heart stuttered. The lazy grin on your lips, the mischievous sparkle in your eyes—it was enough to send a rush of heat coursing through her. She swallowed hard, her voice catching slightly as her mother spoke again.

“Have you been eating properly? You tend to forget when you get busy,” her mother said, concern softening her words.

“I’m eating just fine,” Eunha replied quickly, her tone betraying the distraction tugging at her. She gripped the phone tighter, forcing herself to focus on her mother’s voice even as your hand brushed lightly against her thigh.

Her body jolted at the touch, her breath hitching, though she tried to disguise it with a soft laugh. “Really, Mom, everything’s fine,” she said, the words feeling hollow as her pulse raced.

Her heart skipped a beat as your hand moved up her thigh, warm and commanding. Your fingers traced slow, deliberate circles over her skin, igniting a storm of sensations that made it nearly impossible for her to focus on her mother’s words. The phone trembled slightly in her hand as you leaned closer, your breath ghosting against her ear. “Ready for round two?” you murmured, your voice low and teasing.

Before she could process the words, you acted. With a swift, practiced motion, you pulled her into your lap, your hands firm yet gentle as they guided her into place. Her breath hitched as her body pressed against yours, her mind spinning from the sheer audacity of it all. The world outside—her mother’s voice on the line, the faint hum of the city beyond the window—faded into a muted blur as you moved with ease.

The hem of her shirt lifted in your hands, your fingers brushing her bare skin as you removed it with an insouciance that sent shivers through her. Her cheeks burned as the air touched her exposed skin, but her body betrayed her resolve.

A breathy moan escaped her lips when you shifted below her, the sound of your movements mixing with her moms voice. Her breath hitched as you reached down, slipping your hand beneath the waistband of your shorts. Her body tensed, her head turning slightly as if she wanted to see, but she stopped herself, the anticipation overwhelming. The moment was thick with tension as you freed your length, the weight and heat of it brushing against her skin briefly, sending a shiver racing up her spine.

Eunha swallowed hard, her pulse quickening as the reality of what was about to happen set in. For the first time, she realized just how much she had underestimated you. Her mind raced, but her body stayed still, her breath shallow and uneven as you positioned yourself 

Eunha swallowed hard, her pulse quickening as the reality of what was about to happen set in. For the first time, she realized just how much she had underestimated you. Her mind raced, but her body stayed still, her breath shallow and uneven as you positioned yourself beneath her. The weight of your hands on her hips steadied her, though the heat radiating between you only heightened her anticipation.

She hovered above you, her entrance brushing against the head of your length, and a sharp intake of breath escaped her lips. The first press of you against her made her thighs tremble slightly, the stretch unfamiliar yet electrifying. Slowly, you guided her downward, the head of your length pushing into her with deliberate, measured pressure.

Her walls tightened instinctively, gripping you as her body adjusted to your size. A gasp broke free from her lips, her head tilting back as the sensation overwhelmed her. Inch by inch, you filled her, the stretch igniting her nerves as her body accommodated the fullness. It wasn’t just the physicality—it was the sheer intensity of the moment, the raw connection that sent her senses spiraling.

Eunha bit down on her lower lip, her teeth sinking into the soft flesh in a desperate attempt to stifle the sounds rising in her throat. The effort was futile. Each movement sent a wave of pleasure radiating through her, the heat pooling in her core intensifying with every passing second. Her breath hitched as you bottomed out, the depth leaving her trembling in your lap.

You paused, letting her adjust, your hands firm on her hips as you held her steady. Her heart pounded against her ribcage, her body caught between the sharp stretch and the intoxicating pleasure. Her nails dug lightly into your shoulders, a wordless reaction to the overwhelming sensation of being completely taken.

Her mother’s voice on the other end of the phone became a distant murmur, a faint and meaningless thread lost in the overwhelming symphony of sensations coursing through her body.

Each deep, measured thrust sent shockwaves rippling through her, igniting every nerve as though you’d found a secret, untouched place within her. Your hips snapped upward with precision, each motion deliberate and unhurried, as though you were savoring every reaction. At the same time, your hands pulled her down, controlling her movements to ensure that every thrust hit its mark, driving her closer to the edge. The friction was intoxicating, the way her body yielded to yours making her thighs tremble as the pleasure intensified.

Her breath hitched as you shifted your focus, your lips trailing over the curve of her neck before descending to her chest. Your tongue traced a path over her skin before taking one of her breasts into your mouth, your tongue flicking expertly over her hardened nipple. Her free hand flew to her mouth, muffling the moan that threatened to escape as waves of pleasure surged through her. The warmth of your mouth and the deliberate pace of your movements ignited a fire that spread through her like molten lava, leaving no part of her untouched.

Her thighs quivered as she fought to stay silent, her nails digging into your shoulders as if clinging to the last thread of her composure. But it was a losing battle. Each thrust, each flick of your tongue, and every teasing bite pushed her further into a realm of bliss that shattered her carefully constructed facade. The conversation with her mother became meaningless—a forgotten backdrop to the intensity of what was happening between you.

You pressed deeper, your movements deliberate, each one unraveling her defenses layer by layer. Her breath hitched as you shifted slightly, your fingers tightening on her hips. Her mind swam in a haze of pleasure as you grazed your teeth lightly against the sensitive bud. The sharpness of the sensation sent a shockwave through her, her entire body jerking against you.

And then you slipped a finger into her tight ring, the unexpected intrusion sending her over the edge. Her back arched violently, her head tilting back as her body trembled uncontrollably. The combination of sensations—the fullness of your length inside her, the teasing graze of your teeth, and the pressure of your finger—coalesced into an overwhelming wave of pleasure that consumed her completely.

The crescendo hit her like a tidal wave, stealing the breath from her lungs as her orgasm crashed over her with ferocious intensity. Her thighs clamped tightly around your hips as the pleasure tore through her, her moans growing louder despite her efforts to hold them back. In a panic, she fumbled to mute the call with her mother, but the moment she did, a loud scream burst from her lips, unrestrained and raw.

Her body quivered against you, every muscle tensing and relaxing in rhythm with the pulsating pleasure coursing through her. Her nails raked down your back, leaving trails of fire in their wake as she rode the waves of her climax. Her forehead pressed against your shoulder, her gasps ragged and desperate as the aftershocks rippled through her.

And then she felt it.

The warmth bloomed deep inside her as you finished, your release spilling into her in long, deliberate pulses. The sensation sent a fresh jolt through her already trembling body, her walls clenching around you involuntarily as if to hold you in place. The heat filled her completely, leaving her both stunned and overwhelmed. Her mind reeled, trying to process the depth of the intimacy while her body betrayed her, savoring the connection.

As her breathing slowed, her thoughts darkened. Images of the countless one-night stands you had brought home flashed through her mind—the strangers whose laughter and moans had echoed through these walls, the women she had heard but never seen. Now, she was one of them. Claimed, used, another conquest to add to your list.

Her chest tightened at the thought, but her body still hummed with the remnants of pleasure, betraying the conflict swirling within her. She couldn’t deny how incredible it had felt, how consuming and raw the experience was. But the realization of what she had become—just one of the many—sent a pang of shame through her, mixed with an undeniable longing for more.

For a moment, the world dissolved into nothing but sensation. Her body was a trembling, overwhelmed mess in your grasp, and all she could feel was the heat of your skin, the pressure of your hands holding her, and the lingering pleasure that left her utterly spent. The room was thick with the scent of sweat and sex, a visceral reminder of the line she had crossed.

“Two down,” you murmured against her neck, your voice low and teasing, each word sending another shiver down her spine. The words hung in the air, heavy and electric, as you pulled back just enough to meet her gaze. The intensity in your eyes made her heart race all over again, her body igniting anew despite the exhaustion flooding her limbs.

Her hands shook as she scrambled to end the call, stammering a breathless goodbye to her mother before collapsing against you. Her cheek rested against your chest, her breath coming in shallow, uneven gasps as her mind spun with disbelief.

How had she allowed herself to get here? How had she unraveled so completely, lost so thoroughly in sensations she had once sworn she could resist? Yet, even as she wrestled with the whirlwind of emotions swirling inside her, a part of her couldn’t deny the truth. Deep down, beneath the lingering embarrassment and self-reproach, there was a flicker of anticipation.

She wanted more.

-----

After two consecutive days of passion and intensity, the abrupt break that followed was a mixed blessing for Eunha. On one hand, her body welcomed the respite—the soreness in her thighs and the dull ache in her hips lingered like an intimate reminder of the fervent connection you shared. On the other hand, the absence of scheduled sessions left her restless. Her mind became a storm, every stray thought spiraling back to you.

Each moment apart felt like an eternity. Her memories replayed like a fevered dream—the way your hands had explored her body with unerring precision, the intoxicating sound of your voice murmuring against her skin, the way you pulled her under your spell with every electrifying touch. She couldn’t escape the lingering echoes of your presence, the phantom feeling of your fingers tracing her curves. The ache of longing bloomed inside her chest, a dull, throbbing need that refused to be ignored.

She hated how much she craved you. Her body, once entirely her own, now seemed attuned to the thought of you, as though it anticipated your every move. Her breath would hitch at the memory of your thrusts, stirring a deep, primal hunger that sent shivers through her spine when she let her mind linger too long. How did it come to this? She couldn’t decide whether it was desire or dependency, but whatever it was, it consumed her.

As the days stretched on, the tension between you became almost unbearable. Eunha caught herself stealing glances at you in the shared spaces of your lives. You moved with infuriating ease, your calm confidence a stark contrast to the chaos roiling inside her. Every fleeting look you gave her, every shared smile or casual brush of your hand against hers, felt like a spark threatening to ignite the tightly coiled tension between you. Her pulse would quicken whenever your eyes met, her breath catching as the air thickened with an unspoken promise.

And yet, you kept your distance. Aloof but ever-present, your quiet self-assurance was a maddening reminder of her own unraveling. Each encounter left her nerves frayed, her thoughts tangled in a web of anticipation and longing.

In the quiet hours, Eunha’s thoughts betrayed her. She would sip her morning coffee and imagine your lips brushing hers, your hands gripping her waist. She would read under the warm glow of sunlight, only to find herself yearning for the warmth of your body pressed against hers. The ache of your absence seeped into her dreams, your touch haunting her even there. When she thought of the inevitable final session, her heart would race, her mind spinning with fantasies of how it might feel. The thought was intoxicating—and utterly crushing in its reminder of the emptiness that filled the spaces between your meetings.

Finally, on the last day of the week, Eunha sat at her desk, her laptop glowing faintly in the dimly lit room. The document on the screen was an empty void, the blinking cursor a silent accusation. She stared at it, fingers hovering over the keyboard, willing herself to type something—anything—but her mind was a chaotic swirl, and the still-blank page spoke volumes. No words came. No work was done.

Her heart thudded painfully in her chest, anticipation coiling tight in her stomach. She didn’t need to glance over her shoulder to know you were there. Your presence was magnetic, filling the air with a weight that pressed against her like a physical force. The faint rhythm of your footsteps approached, each step resonating like a heartbeat in the otherwise silent room.

The air grew charged, humming with unspoken words and unresolved tension. It was an invisible thread connecting the two of you, tightening with each passing moment. Eunha’s fingers twitched over the keyboard, a futile attempt to pretend she hadn’t already surrendered to the moment before it even began.

You came up behind her without a word, your hands sliding over her shoulders with deliberate ease. The heat of your touch sent a ripple through her, her body responding instantly. Her breath hitched as a shiver raced down her spine, her concentration on the empty screen obliterated in an instant.

Your fingers kneaded her tense muscles with just enough pressure to make her melt against the chair. Each movement was slow, confident, deliberate. She could feel the warmth of your body close to hers, the faint scent of your cologne mingling with the sterile hum of the office air. For a brief moment, she closed her eyes, torn between surrender and resistance, her thoughts spinning as she tried to reconcile the electric pull of your presence.

“It’s time for the last session,” you whispered, your breath warm against the shell of her ear. Your voice was low, rich, each word wrapping around her like a caress. The syllables lingered, thick with promise and urgency, igniting a spark deep within her.

Her body tensed under your touch, caught between the intoxicating pull of your words and the anticipation coursing through her veins. She turned her head slightly, her lips parting as if to speak, but the words died in her throat. The moment hung suspended, taut and electric, as though the air itself awaited her next move.

Before Eunha could find her voice, you effortlessly pulled her up from her chair. Her laptop screen dimmed, forgotten, as you turned her toward the desk in one fluid motion. Her breath hitched as you bent her over the cool surface, the sensation of the hard edge pressing against her chest grounding and thrilling all at once. She gasped softly when your hands slid down her sides, warm and deliberate, moving with practiced ease.

You worked methodically, your fingers grazing her skin as you peeled away her clothes. Each layer fell away like petals from a flower, leaving her bare and vulnerable under your touch. The chill of the air kissed her exposed skin, sending goosebumps rippling across her body, and the heat of your hands against her only deepened the contrast. She gripped the edge of the desk, her fingers curling tightly around it as anticipation built in her chest.

Her skin tingled with anticipation, every nerve alive and sensitive as you positioned yourself behind her. This dance, though familiar, felt new each time—each touch, each shared breath igniting a fire that burned brighter than the last. The air between you was thick, charged with the tension of the moment, and the faint scrape of fabric as you removed the last barrier between you only heightened the anticipation.

Your hands gripped her hips firmly, steadying her as you align yourself with her entrance. The heat of your length brushed against her folds, eliciting a sharp inhale as her body quivered beneath you. But instead of easing inside, you teased her—grazing her entrance with just the tip, almost like a kiss.

Her breath came in uneven gasps, her fingers curling tightly against the edge of the desk. Each deliberate nudge, each tantalizing brush of your head against her, sent jolts of pleasure through her, teasing her already heightened senses. Her body reacted instinctively, her hips rolling back in an effort to meet you, seeking the fullness you held just out of reach. But just as she pushed against you, you pulled away, your teasing smirk audible in the low chuckle that escaped your lips.

Her thighs trembled, her body caught in the maddening limbo between anticipation and relief. You continued the game, pressing just enough to stretch her slightly, letting her feel the promise of you, before retreating again. The sound of her labored breathing filled the room, punctuated by the soft creak of the desk beneath her. The tension built like a coiled spring, her body humming with need, every nerve screaming for release.

Finally, you gripped her hips tighter and pressed forward, the slow, deliberate stretch as you entered her drawing a sharp gasp from her lips. Her back arched instinctively as she adjusted to your size, her fingers digging into the desk for support. The moment was raw and electric, her body trembling as the fullness consumed her.

As you began to move, you shifted your grip, one hand trailing down to deliver a sharp, stinging slap to her bare cheek. The sound cracked through the air, followed by a jolt of heat that made her gasp. Her body tensed under your touch, a mix of surprise and exhilaration coursing through her. Another slap followed, the sting sending ripples of pleasure racing through her as she clenched around you.

“You like that,” you murmured, your voice low and teasing as you rubbed the reddened skin, soothing it before delivering another sharp smack. Each impact sent her higher, her body responding to every combination of pain and pleasure as you set a rhythm that left her breathless.

Your thrusts grew deeper, more deliberate, each movement precise and commanding as you drove her closer to the edge. The heat of your body pressed against her, the cool surface of the desk beneath her, and the lingering sting of your spanks combined to heighten her senses, leaving her utterly at your mercy. Her hips rocked back to meet your thrusts now, her movements instinctive and desperate, as though her body had been made to follow your lead.

Eunha clung to the desk, her breath coming in shallow gasps as her mind spiraled into the haze of passion. Rational thought dissolved into nothingness, replaced by the primal need to surrender completely. The sound of your bodies moving together filled the room, a symphony of heat and desire that left her trembling and undone.

Before Eunha could steady herself, your hand slid up her back, tracing her spine with deliberate slowness before gripping the base of her ponytail. The sharp tug tilted her head back, arching her spine and forcing her to press closer against you. The motion was commanding, almost primal, and paired with the rhythmic slap of your hips against hers, it sent a new wave of shivers coursing through her body.

The sting of your earlier spanks lingered, the heat radiating from her reddened skin intensifying the contrast between pleasure and pain. Your grip on her ponytail tightened, using it as leverage to drive yourself deeper. Each thrust was deliberate, precise, and powerful, eliciting soft cries from her that grew louder with every movement. You felt her clenching around you, her body gripping you tighter with each spank and every commanding tug of her hair.

“You’re squeezing me so hard,” you murmured, your voice dripping with teasing satisfaction. Another sharp slap landed on her cheek, and she cried out, the sound breaking into a breathless moan as her body trembled under you. “You like this, don’t you? Being bent over your desk like this, letting me take you however I want.”

Eunha could barely form a coherent thought, let alone respond. The mixture of pleasure and domination was overwhelming, her body instinctively rocking back to meet you. Her hips moved in time with yours, each thrust sending jolts of pleasure spiraling through her as her nails scraped against the desk, seeking any semblance of grounding in the storm you were creating.

Suddenly, your eyes flicked to her laptop, the screen darkened from inactivity. With a curious smirk, you reached over her, pressing on the trackpad to awaken it. The screen lit up, revealing a blank document, the cursor blinking idly as if mocking her attempt to focus.

You leaned forward slightly, your chest pressing lightly against her back, your lips brushing her ear as you murmured, “You were just waiting for me, weren’t you? Faking work just so I could come and interrupt.”

The words struck her like a lightning bolt, their truth sending her already racing heart into overdrive. She let out a shaky breath, her throat tightening as her mind reeled from the vulnerability you so effortlessly exposed. Yet, it only heightened the sensations coursing through her, the mix of humiliation and desire spiraling into something she could no longer resist.

Your pace quickened, each thrust driving deeper as the sound of skin against skin filled the room, mingling with her ragged gasps and breathless moans. The steady pull of her ponytail guided her body into perfect alignment, each movement drawing you closer to her deepest, most sensitive spots. Her walls clenched tighter around you, her body reacting instinctively to the rhythm you commanded.

“You’re so tight,” you groaned, your voice tinged with both exertion and satisfaction. The grip on her ponytail tightened again as your free hand traced down her back, gripping her waist to hold her steady. The push and pull of your motions became a dance of raw intensity, every movement calculated to pull her further into the abyss of pleasure.

Eunha’s breaths turned to sharp cries, her voice rising in pitch as her body betrayed her, hurtling toward release. Her thighs trembled uncontrollably, the tension within her building to an unbearable crescendo. Each thrust, each slap, each tug of her ponytail sent her spiraling closer to the edge, her body arching as if begging for the final push.

And then it came. A powerful thrust paired with the sting of another spank tipped her over, the orgasm crashing through her like a tidal wave. She let out a scream, her body quaking violently as every fiber of her being surrendered to the ecstasy you’d drawn out of her. Her walls pulsed around you, gripping you with a ferocity that only amplified your own pleasure.

Her forehead pressed against the desk as her moans softened into shaky breaths, her body trembling beneath you as aftershocks rippled through her. Your pace slowed but remained deliberate, drawing out every last ounce of her pleasure as you admired the way she clung to you, utterly spent.

“Look at you,” you murmured, releasing her ponytail and running your hand down her back, soothing the reddened marks left by your grip. “Completely undone.”

Eunha could barely form a reply, her breath still coming in uneven gasps as she slowly emerged from the haze of her climax. Her fingers flexed weakly against the desk, her legs quivering as she struggled to regain her footing.

But even in her exhaustion, a flicker of anticipation lingered in her chest. The intensity of what she’d just experienced wasn’t just overwhelming—it was addictive. And as much as she hated to admit it, she couldn’t wait to see what came next.

As the tremors of her orgasm subsided, you pulled out, her walls gripping you one last time before reluctantly releasing you. The slickness of her release coated your length, gleaming in the dim light as you admired the way her body trembled beneath you, her breath coming in ragged gasps.

With a swift yet deliberate motion, your hand came down on her ass with a sharp spank, the sound cracking through the room like a whip. She let out a startled gasp, her body jolting slightly as the sting spread across her reddened cheek. Your hand lingered, kneading the warm, tender flesh as you smirked, savoring the sight of her arching beneath your touch.

“I just love your ass,” you murmured, your voice low and teasing. Your fingers traced the curve of her cheek, your tone dripping with admiration as you added, “So perfect. I could play with it all day.”

You punctuated your words by gripping both cheeks firmly, your thumbs sinking into the soft flesh before giving them a playful jiggle. The motion sent another wave of heat through her already oversensitized body, drawing a soft whimper from her lips as her legs quivered beneath her.

“You’re amazing,” you continued, your hands continuing to explore her, alternating between gentle squeezes and sharp slaps. The way her skin bounced under your touch captivated you, and you couldn’t resist watching her reactions—the way she trembled, the way her breath hitched with each motion.

Her body arched slightly, the mix of tenderness and dominance in your touch making her head spin. Every squeeze, every jiggle, every deliberate spank reminded her of how utterly at your mercy she was—and how much she relished it.

Your hand lingered, kneading the tender flesh, your fingers digging in just enough to draw another shiver from her. The mix of dominance and care made her head spin, and she couldn’t help but bite her lip as you leaned down to murmur against her ear, “We’re not done yet.”

A flicker of protest flashed in her hazy mind, and she opened her mouth to speak, her voice weak and breathless. “I… I don’t think…” she began, her words trailing off as the weight of your presence pressed against her. But even as her mind tried to form a coherent objection, her body betrayed her, arching instinctively into your touch.

“Shhh,” you murmured softly, your tone soothing yet unyielding. “I know you can take it.”

You stepped away briefly, leaving her bent over the desk, her body still trembling as she tried to collect herself. The sound of a drawer opening and the faint rustle of movement sent a thrill of anticipation racing through her. She bit her lip, her nails digging into the desk as her body tensed with a mixture of apprehension and excitement. When you returned, the cool sensation of lube on your fingers as you coated your length made her breath hitch, a fresh wave of nervous energy coursing through her.

With practiced ease, you spread her cheeks, revealing her tight, puckered hole. She let out a shaky breath, her voice catching as she whispered, “Wait… I’m not sure about this.”

Her words were feeble, lacking conviction, and you simply chuckled, low and teasing. “Trust me,” you said, your tone filled with quiet confidence. 

Her breath hitched as she felt a cold drop of lube land directly on her hole, the sensation startling yet oddly thrilling. Her body tensed, and she squirmed slightly beneath your hands, but the warmth of your palms steadying her hips kept her grounded. You positioned yourself, the tip of your length pressing lightly against her ring. You didn’t push in yet, letting her feel the pressure, making her hyper-aware of what was about to happen.

You stayed there, your presence a quiet, commanding force as she processed the moment. Her heart raced, her breath shallow, as the reality of her vulnerable position washed over her. The heat of your length against her and the weight of your hands on her body sent conflicting waves of tension and anticipation coursing through her.

“Anywhere I want,” you reminded her, your voice low and teasing, sending a shiver down her spine.

You began to press forward, the tight ring of muscle yielding slowly as you eased in. The stretch was intense, her gasp sharp and unrestrained as she clutched the edge of the desk. “I—wait, it’s too much,” she stammered, her voice shaky, her body trembling under you as her nerves warred with the raw, growing pleasure.

“You can take it,” you murmured, your hand stroking her back in reassurance even as you pushed further. Her protests faltered, her breath coming in shallow gasps as the sensation overwhelmed her. She could feel every ridge, every vein along your length as you pushed deeper, her body adjusting inch by inch. The mix of discomfort and raw pleasure left her dizzy, her legs quivering as she struggled to hold herself steady.

Halfway in, you paused, your hands steadying her hips. Her breathing was ragged, her body adjusting to the fullness. You reached down with one hand, your fingers finding her clit, circling it gently. The sensation made her cry out, her body clenching around you as the pleasure collided with the stretch of your entry. Her walls pulsed with every deliberate flick of your fingers, sending ripples of sensation through her core and tightening her grip on your length.

“Breathe,” you murmured, your tone firm but reassuring as you let her adjust.

You then proceeded and when you finally bottomed out, you held the position, the sensation of her tightness surrounding you utterly consuming. She was warm and slick, her body trembling as she adjusted to the new fullness. Her breathing came in shaky gasps, her body betraying her as the mix of pain and pleasure exhilarated her in ways she hadn’t expected.

She felt incredible—nothing like she had ever experienced before—and it ignited something deep within her. Her hips began to shift, pressing back against you in tentative movements. The message was clear, and you smirked, taking it as your cue to start.

Your thrusts began slowly, deliberate and deep, each one drawing a soft cry from her lips as the rhythm built. Your hand remained between her legs, teasing her folds and circling her clit, amplifying the sensations that coursed through her. Every motion was calculated, every thrust designed to send her higher, to push her further into the haze of ecstasy that clouded her mind.

Her body responded instinctively, her hips rocking back to meet you as the rhythm quickened. The sound of skin against skin filled the room, mingling with her gasps and moans. You felt her clenching around you, her body tightening with every stroke, every flick of your fingers against her sensitive nub.

“Admit it,” you murmured, your voice low and teasing, the words brushing against her ear like a caress. “You love being used by me. I unlocked something for you, didn’t I, Eunha?”

Her breath hitched at your words, her body trembling beneath you as she struggled to reply. Her voice came out in broken gasps, her words tumbling free before she could stop them. “Yes… yes… it feels so good,” she cried, her voice trembling with raw need. “I’m so full with you…”

A wicked grin spreads across your face as you tighten  your grip on her hips, driving into her with renewed intensity. Her cries grew louder, her body writhing beneath you as you pushed her closer to the edge. The pressure of your fingers on her clit, the heat of your body against hers, the stretch of every deliberate thrust—it was overwhelming, consuming her completely.

The build-up was relentless, her cries becoming more desperate, her body trembling as she teetered on the brink. The room echoed with her sounds—moans, gasps, and finally, a scream that tore from her throat as her climax hit. It was raw, unrestrained, the kind of sound she had once dismissed as fake when it came from the women you brought home before her. But now, those same sounds were spilling from her lips, unbidden, as the waves of pleasure ripped through her.

Her ring clenched tightly around you, her body convulsing as the orgasm consumed her. Every nerve in her body felt electrified, her cries piercing the air as she lost herself completely to the sensation. You didn’t stop, your hands gripping her hips with a firm intensity as you thrust deeper, chasing your own release.

When you finally spilled into her, the heat of your release filling her tightest depths, it was like nothing she’d ever felt before. The warmth spread through her, a sensation so alien and overwhelming it triggered another wave of pleasure that slammed into her like a tidal wave. Her back arched sharply, her thighs quivering as the combined sensation of fullness and release sent her spiraling into an even more powerful climax.

Her entire body trembled violently, her ring pulsing around you in rhythm with the aftershocks of her ecstasy. She was lost in the overwhelming sensations, unable to distinguish where her pleasure ended and yours began. Her voice broke into gasps and sobs of pleasure, the intensity leaving her breathless and lightheaded.

You leaned over her, your breath warm against her ear as your hands steadied her trembling form. Your fingers pinched her clit once more, a teasing stroke that sent her collapsing against the desk as the aftershocks rippled through her again. Her mind was a haze, her body slick with sweat, and all she could feel was the lingering, overwhelming sensation of being utterly claimed.

As her breathing slowed, her mind began to catch up to what her body had just experienced. The heat of your release still lingered deep inside her, a visceral reminder of how completely she had surrendered to the moment. For a fleeting second, she felt a rush of pride—this was hers now, the pleasure, the intensity, the connection. And yet, a part of her couldn’t shake the realization that this sensation, so intimate and raw, had once been shared with others before her.

But none of that mattered at this moment. All she could do was gasp for air, her body trembling against yours as the room spun around her, the aftermath of your shared ecstasy leaving her utterly undone.

“Such a good girl,” you murmured, your tone filled with satisfaction as you felt her body quiver beneath you. “All done. I knew you had it in you.”

Her legs gave out as the aftershocks rippled through her, leaving her limp and utterly spent. You held her close for a moment, letting her catch her breath, before you began to pull back. Slowly, deliberately, you exited her, and the sensation left her gasping softly. The emptiness hit her like a sudden void, her body instinctively clenching as if to draw you back in, but you were already gone.

Her eyes fluttered shut as the cool air brushed over her now-gaping ring, the absence of your presence making her feel incomplete. A strange, hollow ache settled deep within her, as though a part of her was missing. She bit her lip, suppressing the odd sense of longing that threatened to bubble up, her mind torn between shame and the raw need still thrumming through her veins.

You stepped back, letting your gaze linger for a moment on the sight of her. She was utterly undone, her body slack and trembling, her skin glistening with sweat. The way she looked—spent and marked—sent a surge of satisfaction through you. Before leaving her entirely, you raised a hand and delivered one last sharp smack to her reddened cheeks, the sound cracking through the room.

Eunha flinched at the sudden sting, a soft whimper escaping her lips. Her body shivered in response, her cheeks burning with a fresh wave of heat as the mark of your control lingered on her skin. The smack felt like a punctuation to everything that had just happened, a reminder of the claim you had staked on her.

As you stepped away, she remained draped over the desk, her breath coming in shallow, ragged gasps. Her mind swirled with disbelief and exhilaration as the realization of what had just happened fully hit her. She had never felt anything like this—never thought it was even possible. Her body still tingled, every nerve hypersensitive, and yet the absence of you left her feeling unmoored, yearning for something more. She leaned against the desk, spent and vulnerable, the weight of the moment settling over her like a warm yet haunting blanket.

-----

By the end of the week, Eunha had stopped fighting the inevitable. She had surrendered to your connection, letting you take what you wanted, each encounter intensifying the bond that tethered you together. Every touch, every glance, every whispered word deepened the intimacy between you. And in the quiet aftermath, when your breathing had steadied and her body still buzzed with the memory of your touch, she found herself wanting more. Not just the physical connection, but the unspoken exclusivity that seemed to linger in the air between you.

She wanted to be the only one you touched, the only one you claimed, the only one you used.

But then the week ended, and reality came crashing down.

You walked through the door with another girl, your laughter ringing out like a cruel reminder of everything she wasn’t. The sight hit Eunha like a blow, sharp and unforgiving. Her heart sank as she froze in the doorway of her room, her fingers gripping the frame as if to steady herself. SinB. Of all people, it had to be SinB.

Her mind raced as she watched you chat effortlessly, your hand brushing SinB’s arm like it was the most natural thing in the world. The way you smiled at her, leaned in just slightly as you spoke, set Eunha’s blood boiling. This wasn’t just disrespect—this felt personal. Jealousy burned hot inside her, laced with a bitter sting of betrayal. After everything you’d shared, how could you act so indifferent? And with her friend, no less.

SinB giggled at something you said, the sound twisting in Eunha’s stomach like a knife. Her jaw clenched as she watched the two of you move down the hall, your casual smirk cutting through her like a dagger. Her stomach churned as you opened your bedroom door, ushering SinB inside like this was just another meaningless encounter.

The door clicked shut, and something inside her snapped.

Before she could think twice, Eunha’s feet carried her down the hall, her heart pounding in her chest as rage surged through her. Without hesitation, she shoved the door open, the force of it startling both you and SinB.

“Eunha!” you exclaimed, your voice tinged with surprise as you turned to face her.

“Get out,” she spat, her voice trembling with fury as her gaze locked onto SinB.

SinB blinked, confusion etched across her face as she looked between you and Eunha. “Uh… excuse me?”

“I said, get out,” Eunha repeated, her tone sharp and unyielding. Her eyes burned with a fire that left no room for argument.

“Eunha, what is going on?” SinB asked, her voice rising in disbelief. “Why are you acting like this?”

“You know exactly why,” Eunha snapped, her voice cutting through the tension. “Just go.”

SinB hesitated, her expression a mix of confusion and annoyance, before grabbing her purse and muttering something under her breath. She glanced at you as if for an explanation, but you said nothing, your calm gaze fixed on Eunha instead. SinB huffed, brushing past Eunha as she left the room. The sound of the front door closing was loud in the ensuing silence.

Eunha’s hands clenched into fists at her sides as she took a step closer, her anger spilling over. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

You tilted your head slightly, your expression infuriatingly casual. “Care to elaborate?”

“SinB?” she hissed, her voice low but trembling with emotion. “Are you just making the rounds of my friends now? Is that it? First Umji, and now this?”

Your smirk deepened, but there was a flicker of something else in your eyes—curiosity, perhaps. “I didn’t realize I needed your approval.”

“You don’t,” she shot back, her voice cracking under the weight of her emotions. “But I trusted you, and you… You’re doing this on purpose. You’re trying to—” She cut herself off, her chest heaving as she struggled to find the words. “Are you trying to humiliate me? To make me feel like nothing?”

You stepped closer, your voice calm, almost soothing. “You’re taking this awfully personally, Eunha.”

“Of course I am!” she snapped, her eyes shining with unshed tears. “You used me, and now you’re—what? Moving on to the next? Except it’s not just anyone, is it? You’re picking my friends. You know exactly what you’re doing.”

The tension in the room was thick, the air crackling with the weight of unspoken emotions. You studied her carefully, your gaze steady as you leaned back slightly. “And why does it bother you so much? Why does it matter who I bring here?”

Eunha’s breath hitched, her anger faltering for a moment as the question hung between you. She swallowed hard, her fists loosening at her sides. “Because it’s not just about them,” she admitted, her voice softer now but no less raw. “It’s about me. It’s about what I thought we had.”

The silence that followed was heavy, the distance between you feeling both too much and not enough. For the first time, Eunha’s vulnerability was laid bare, and the weight of her words hung in the air like a challenge.

Eunha’s hands trembled as she stood in the center of your room, her chest heaving with the effort to keep her emotions in check. The silence between you was deafening, her words hanging in the air as she tried to make sense of everything she was feeling. The betrayal, the anger, the jealousy—all of it swirled inside her like a storm, but underneath it all was a need she couldn’t deny. A need for you to understand what this had done to her.

You raised a brow, completely unfazed by her confession. “What’s your problem?”

Eunha’s chest tightened, her heart pounding as she struggled to find the right words. “After everything… after this whole week, you just go back to bringing some other girl home like it was nothing?”

Your expression darkened slightly, though your tone remained calm. “Our deal’s over, Eunha. I didn’t think it was a big deal anymore.”

“It is a big deal!” she shot back, her voice cracking with a mix of frustration and vulnerability. Her eyes burned as she stared at you, willing you to see how much this mattered to her. “You used me all week. You touched me like I was yours, like I was the only one. And now you just… move on like none of it mattered?”

You stepped closer, your movements deliberate and measured, the space between you shrinking as your voice dropped. “What did you expect? It was a bet, Eunha. You lost. That’s all there was to it.”

Her breath hitched at your words, the weight of them landing like a blow to her chest. She shook her head, tears prickling at the corners of her eyes, though she refused to let them fall. “No. You can’t tell me it didn’t mean something. You can’t just act like I’m the same as the rest.”

Your gaze softened for a fleeting moment, though your casual demeanor didn’t falter entirely. “And what if you’re not?” you asked, your tone quieter now, almost teasing. “What are you trying to say, Eunha?”

Her hands trembled at her sides as the words tumbled out before she could stop them. “I want to be the only one. The only one you… use.”

The air between you grew heavy with the weight of her admission. Her chest heaved as she looked up at you, her eyes burning with emotion. For the first time, her vulnerability was laid bare, her need for you undeniable.

You stepped closer, the distance between you almost nonexistent now. “That’s what you want?” you murmured, your voice low and deliberate. “You want to be mine?”

“Yes,” she whispered, her voice trembling but firm.

Your hand reached out, brushing a strand of hair from her face as your lips curled into a smirk. “Prove it.”

She blinked, her breath hitching at the challenge in your voice. “How?” she asked softly.

Without answering, you stepped back, gesturing toward the floor in front of the couch. “Kneel,” you commanded, your tone calm but firm.

Eunha hesitated for only a moment before sinking to her knees, the plush carpet soft beneath her as her hands rested awkwardly at her sides. Her body trembled under the weight of your gaze, her heart racing as she obeyed. The silence between you was deafening, broken only by the faint rustle of fabric as you pulled your phone from your pocket.

She watched with a mix of curiosity and apprehension as your fingers moved across the screen. You sent a quick text before sliding the phone back into your pocket, your smirk deepening as you took a seat on the couch in front of her.

You leaned back, your posture casual, one arm draped over the back of the couch. “Don’t move,” you said simply, your voice carrying an edge of command that made her heart skip a beat.

Eunha nodded, her eyes flickering with uncertainty as she knelt there, her body tense under your unyielding stare. Time seemed to stretch endlessly, the weight of the moment pressing down on her as she fought to keep still. She wanted to ask what you had done, what would come next, but the intensity in your gaze kept her silent.

Minutes later, a knock echoed through the apartment, and her stomach twisted with nerves. Her eyes darted toward the door, but she didn’t dare move. She could hear your footsteps as you stood and made your way to the door, opening it with ease.

“Hey,” came Umji’s voice, her tone curious. “You texted me to come over? What’s going on?”

“Come in,” you said smoothly, stepping aside to let her enter. Eunha’s breath hitched as she heard the door close, her body frozen in place. Umji’s eyes landed on her almost immediately, confusion flickering across her face as she took in the scene.

“What is this?” Umji asked, her voice filled with disbelief as she glanced between you and Eunha.

You moved to stand behind Eunha, your hand resting lightly on her shoulder. “She wanted to prove something,” you said casually, your tone laced with amusement. “So I thought you might want to see.”

Eunha’s cheeks burned under Umji’s gaze, her body trembling with a mix of humiliation and anticipation. She felt your fingers trail down her arm, your touch both grounding and electrifying as you leaned down to murmur in her ear.

“Don’t make me wait,” you said softly, the words sending a shiver through her. “Start.”

Her hands moved to the hem of her shirt, her movements slow and hesitant as she began to undress. Piece by piece, her clothing fell away, leaving her bare and exposed under the sharp contrast of your commanding presence and Umji’s incredulous stare.

“What the hell is going on?” Umji demanded, her voice rising slightly, but she didn’t look away.

Eunha’s breath came in shallow gasps as you guided her closer to the couch, your hand tangling in her hair as you brought her face to your length. “Just watch,” you said simply, your voice calm yet commanding.

Eunha’s lips brushed against you, her movements tentative at first as she began to please you, her cheeks flushed with a mix of embarrassment and arousal. Her warm breath ghosted over your length as her tongue flicked out, testing and teasing before she grew bolder. Slowly, she wrapped her lips around you, her head lowering as she took you into her mouth. Her hands gripped your thighs for balance, her touch light but steady as she worked to find her rhythm.

Her efforts were cautious but deliberate, each stroke of her tongue a mix of careful exploration and mounting determination. The sound of her soft, wet movements filled the room, a symphony of submission that drew your attention back to her. Occasionally, you reached down, your hand tangling in her hair to guide her movements, pushing her head down further. Each time, she responded with a muffled gasp, her body tensing momentarily before she adjusted, taking you deeper.

“Good girl,” you murmured, your voice low and soothing, your praise making her cheeks burn brighter. The words sent a surge of motivation through her, and she worked harder, her lips gliding smoothly along your length, her tongue swirling expertly around you.

For Eunha, this was the biggest test. Every motion, every flick of her tongue was charged with the weight of proving herself. She knew this was more than just an act of submission—it was a declaration of her place, her claim on you. A small, unexpected part of her stirred with arousal at the thought of Umji watching. Showing her friend who was truly yours, who had earned this, awakened a pride she didn’t know she possessed. It was intoxicating, this mixture of vulnerability and power, and it drove her further.

You leaned back against the couch, letting her set the pace for a moment before gripping the back of her head firmly and pressing her down. Her eyes widened as she took you deeper, her throat constricting slightly as she adjusted to your command. She let out a muffled sound, a mix of effort and surrender, before pulling back just enough to catch her breath. You allowed her a brief reprieve before guiding her again, her lips tightening around you as she resumed her work with even greater intensity.

Across the room, Umji stood frozen, her arms crossed tightly as she watched the scene unfold. Her gaze remained locked on Eunha, her expression a mixture of shock and disbelief. There was curiosity too, evident in the way her lips parted slightly as though to speak, only to remain silent. The sight of Eunha—once brimming with disdain for you—now fully submitting to your control was nothing short of a revelation.

“You’re really putting on a show, aren’t you?” you remarked, your voice dripping with amusement as your hand rested lightly on the back of Eunha’s head. “Keep going. Show her why you’re the only one.”

Eunha’s eyes flickered upward, meeting yours for the briefest moment before closing again. She redoubled her efforts, her movements growing faster, more fluid as her arousal fueled her determination. The wet sounds of her work filled the room, punctuated by her soft hums and the occasional gasp when you pushed her deeper.

Your breathing quickened as she found her rhythm, her technique honed with every passing second. Her lips tightened around you, her tongue pressing firmly against the sensitive underside as she bobbed her head. You groaned softly, the sound spurring her on as she worked to bring you closer to the edge.

When your climax hit, it was with a sharp exhale and a tightening of your grip on her hair. You pressed her down, holding her in place as you released, feeling her throat constrict as she swallowed without hesitation. Her cheeks hollowed as she took everything you gave, her obedience absolute.

As the waves of pleasure subsided, you leaned forward slightly, your hand loosening in her hair. “Tilt your head back,” you commanded, your tone low and firm. Eunha obeyed, tilting her head until her face was angled perfectly toward you. “Open,” you added, and her lips parted slowly, her breath coming in soft pants as you inspected her.

Your release pooled at the back of her throat, glistening under the dim light. The sight sent a surge of satisfaction through you, and you allowed yourself a moment to admire her submission before leaning forward slightly.

“Hold it,” you murmured. With one hand steadying her chin, you spat lightly into her mouth, the act deliberate and possessive—a seal of her surrender. “Now swallow.”

Eunha’s throat bobbed as she complied, her lips closing around the mix of sensations with no hesitation. Her eyes flickered upward, meeting yours briefly before darting away, her cheeks flushed with a mix of humiliation and pride.

“Good girl,” you said, your voice tinged with satisfaction as you wiped a thumb across her chin, catching a stray drop before it fell. You pulled her back slightly, your member still glistening as you began to tap it lightly against her lips, the soft, wet sounds drawing a faint blush to her already heated skin.

Your hand shifted to her cheek, guiding her head as you tapped her face twice, the subtle smack sending a shiver through her. The sound was muted yet deliberate, a reminder of her place and the power you held over her. Her lips parted instinctively, and you pressed the tip of your length against her once more, smirking as her breath hitched.

As you pulled back, your gaze flickered to Umji, who had remained rooted in place, her arms crossed tightly as she watched the entire scene unfold. Her expression was a mix of shock and disbelief, her lips parting slightly as if to speak, though no words came.

“I think we’re done here,” you said, your tone casual as though nothing unusual had just occurred. You gestured lazily toward the door, your attention still focused on Eunha’s flushed face. “We can’t meet up anymore.”

“What?” Umji managed, her voice rising slightly with disbelief.

You shrugged, the smirk on your lips unfaltering. “You see how it is. Eunha’s the one who belongs here now.”

Umji blinked, her gaze flickering between you and Eunha, still kneeling at your feet. Eunha’s chest rose and fell with uneven breaths, her hair disheveled and her cheeks still stained red from exertion and submission. Yet her eyes remained fixed on you, a silent devotion radiating from her as she knelt motionless, her body awaiting your next command.

Umji shifted on her feet, crossing her arms tighter as she glanced down at Eunha. “Eunha,” she said, her tone softer now, tinged with disbelief, “are you really okay with this? With him?”

Eunha didn’t respond. She didn’t move. Her gaze remained unwaveringly on you, as though Umji wasn’t even in the room. The lack of acknowledgement was as loud as any reply, leaving Umji stunned into silence.

“Well,” Umji said after a moment, her voice quieter. “I guess… I guess that’s that.” She hesitated, her gaze lingering on Eunha one last time before she turned toward the door. “Goodbye.”

The door clicked shut behind her, and the apartment fell into silence. You exhaled softly, leaning back against the couch as your hand slid through Eunha’s hair, the gentle motion drawing her gaze upward to meet yours.

“You’ve earned it,” you murmured, your voice low and approving. “You’re mine.”

Eunha’s lips parted slightly as a faint blush spread across her cheeks, her eyes shining with unspoken emotion. Slowly, she moved forward, her knees brushing against the carpet as she climbed into your lap, her arms wrapping around your neck with surprising tenderness. Her lips found yours in a soft, lingering kiss, her body melting against yours as if she belonged there—because she did.

Her breath was warm against your skin as she nestled against your chest, her head resting on your shoulder. The tension from moments before dissolved into something quieter, softer, as she clung to you. Her fingers traced absent patterns along your collarbone, her voice a soft whisper in the stillness.

“Thank you,” she murmured, her words carrying a weight that hinted at something deeper—a surrender not just of her body, but of her trust, her heart, and her place by your side.