#itzy fic

The lock clicks on the third try because Ryujin has been stabbing her keycard at the sensor like she's trying to fight it, and when the penthouse door finally swings open, three pairs of eyes land on her at once. She stands in the doorway with her blazer hanging off one shoulder, her lipstick half eaten off, and her hair doing something architectural that definitely wasn't intentional. She smells like Yamazaki 18 and someone else's perfume (a colleague's, she'll insist later, and she won't even be lying, but good luck selling that at one in the morning).

Yeji is the first to speak. She's standing closest to the door because of course she is, arms crossed, still in the oversized sleep shirt she wears when she's been waiting up. "Finally."

That single word carries about fourteen different emotions, and Ryujin, to her credit, catches maybe two of them. She grins. Big, lopsided, absolutely devastating even when she's this sloppy. "Hi, baby."

She takes one step forward and her ankle rolls in her heel, and that's all it takes. Yuna is off the couch so fast you'd think she was spring-loaded, and Yeji has already closed the gap, and between the two of them they catch Ryujin before she can eat shit on her own marble floor.

"Oh my god," Yuna mutters, hooking Ryujin's arm over her shoulder. "You smell like a distillery."

"I smell fantastic," Ryujin corrects her, leaning heavily into Yuna's side. "I smell like success."

Yeji gets under her other arm, steadying her with practiced efficiency. This is not the first time they've done this. It's not even the first time this month. "You can barely stand."

"I can absolutely stand. I'm standing right now."

"We're holding you up."

"Semantics."

Yuna snorts. Yeji does not look amused, but her hands are gentle when she adjusts her grip around Ryujin's waist, pulling her tighter against her body. There's a bruise-colored hickey peeking out from under Ryujin's collar that belongs to Yeji from two days ago, and something about seeing it now, in the middle of all this exasperation, softens her expression for just a second.

"Chaeryeong," Yeji calls over her shoulder without turning around. "Can you get her some water? The cold bottle from the fridge."

Chaeryeong is already moving before Yeji finishes the sentence. She'd been hovering near the hallway, doing that thing she does where she wrings her hands and looks like she might cry even though nothing is actually wrong yet. She nods quickly and disappears into the kitchen, bare feet padding on the hardwood.

Ryujin watches her go with unfocused eyes and laughs to herself, this low, warm, whiskey-soaked sound. "She's so cute. Did you see her little face? She looked so worried."

"She was worried," Yeji says flatly. "We all were. You said you'd be home by eleven."

"I texted."

"You texted a single emoji. A thumbs up. At twelve-thirty."

Ryujin considers this. "That's basically a text."

Yuna adjusts Ryujin's weight against her side. "You should take a bath. You're disgusting."

"I'm not disgusting. And I don't want a bath." Ryujin shakes her head, which is a mistake because the room tilts. She closes her eyes for a second, breathes through it. "I just want bed. I want bed and I want my girls and I want to lie down before the floor starts moving again."

Yeji and Yuna exchange a look over her head. It's the look they've perfected over months of cohabitation, the one that says "she's impossible" and "I know" without a single word. Then they start walking her toward the bedroom, and Ryujin goes willingly, her heels dragging on the floor with each step.

The primary bedroom in Ryujin's penthouse is obscene by any reasonable standard. The bed alone could sleep six people comfortably (and has, on one memorable occasion that nobody talks about in daylight). Floor-to-ceiling windows overlook the city, curtains half drawn, the Seoul skyline blurred into streaks of light through the glass. Everything is dark wood and cream linen and soft lighting because Yeji redesigned the entire room after she moved in, and Ryujin let her because Ryujin lets Yeji do anything that makes the apartment feel less like a hotel and more like a home.

They deposit Ryujin on the edge of the bed, and she sways there for a moment, grinning up at them like she's the luckiest woman alive. (She is. She just has a terrible way of showing it.)

Yeji kneels in front of her without being asked. Her fingers find the buttons of Ryujin's blazer and start working them open with the kind of quiet focus she brings to everything. The fabric is expensive, some Italian brand Ryujin bought on a whim during a layover in Milan, and Yeji handles it carefully, sliding it off her shoulders and folding it once before setting it aside.

"You promised," Yeji says, not looking up. Her hands move to Ryujin's belt. "You said you were going to slow down."

Ryujin's head drops back a little. "I know."

"You said that last time too."

"I know, I know. But listen." Ryujin reaches down and catches Yeji's chin, tilting her face up. Even drunk, there's something in the way she touches Yeji that makes the air shift. Deliberate. Focused. "Today was different. We closed the Hanjin deal. The big one, the one I've been working on for three months. And it happened so fast at the end, like, the whole thing just came together at dinner, and everyone was celebrating, and I couldn't just leave."

Yeji holds her gaze for a long moment, then goes back to the belt. "You could have taken us."

"I was going to. I swear I was going to call you guys, but it was already ten and I thought you'd be asleep and then the champagne came out and…" She trails off, gesturing vaguely. "Everything happened really fast."

Yeji tugs the belt free and starts on the button of Ryujin's slacks. The pants come off next, Yeji guiding them down over her hips, and Ryujin lifts herself just enough to help. Underneath she's wearing plain black underwear, nothing fancy, and a matching bra that she definitely didn't pick out herself (Chaeryeong bought it in a set of four, one for each of them, which is exactly the kind of thing Chaeryeong does).

Yuna, who has been watching this whole exchange from the foot of the bed with her arms crossed and one eyebrow raised, finally pipes up. "So we just sit at home while mommy's out drinking with strangers. Cool."

"They're not strangers, they're my board members."

"Even worse."

Ryujin laughs, free and loose, and reaches for Yuna's hand. "Come here, brat."

Yuna doesn't move. "No."

"Yuna."

"You smell bad and I'm mad at you."

"You're not mad at me. You're never mad at me." Ryujin's fingers catch the hem of Yuna's shorts and give a lazy tug. "You just like making me work for it."

Yuna bites the inside of her cheek to keep from smiling, and that's enough of a victory for Ryujin, who turns her head just in time to see Chaeryeong appear in the doorway with a tall glass of water. And the way Ryujin's whole face changes is something else entirely. The smirk drops. The performative charm drops. What's left is pure, unfiltered, drunken adoration.

"There she is," Ryujin breathes, reaching both arms out. "There's my baby girl."

Chaeryeong crosses the room and puts the glass in Ryujin's hand first (because Chaeryeong always takes care of the practical thing before the emotional thing, which is one of about nine thousand reasons Ryujin is obsessed with her). Ryujin drinks the entire glass in long, messy gulps, water running down her chin, and hands it back. Then she pulls Chaeryeong down onto the bed and into her arms.

Chaeryeong folds into her like she was built for it, her cheek pressed against Ryujin's collarbone, legs curling up, one hand resting flat against Ryujin's bare stomach. Ryujin presses a slow kiss to the top of her head and drags her fingers through Chaeryeong's hair, still slightly damp from a shower.

"We were really worried," Chaeryeong says quietly against her skin.

"I know, baby. I'm sorry." Another kiss, this time to her temple. "I'm here now."

Here's the thing about the four of them (and the narrator feels it's about time somebody explained this properly): Shin Ryujin is not a good girlfriend by any conventional metric. She drinks too much, works too hard, keeps insane hours, and has the domestic reliability of a stray cat. But she is magnetic in a way that ruins you for anyone else, and the three women who share her bed and her life figured that out a long time ago. Yeji was first. She came into Ryujin's orbit as an executive assistant, stayed as a lover, and now runs both Ryujin's household and approximately sixty percent of her emotional life. Yuna showed up like a tornado at a charity gala, called Ryujin "old" to her face, and was in her bed by the end of the week. Chaeryeong was last, the quietest addition, introduced through mutual friends and so shy that first night that Yeji had to hold her hand through the whole dinner. Now she sleeps closest to Ryujin every single night, and nobody questions it.

They fight, they make up, they compete for Ryujin's attention in ways that range from sweet to feral, and underneath all of it is a foundation that none of them expected to build but all of them protect fiercely.

"I'm going to make it up to you," Ryujin murmurs, her eyes already half-closed. She lifts one hand from Chaeryeong's hair and extends it toward Yeji and Yuna. "All of you. Come here."

Yeji stands from where she's been kneeling, brushes off her knees, and slides onto the bed on Ryujin's left side without a word. She settles close, her arm draped across Ryujin's ribs, her fingers finding Chaeryeong's and lacing them together over Ryujin's stomach.

Yuna takes longer. She stands there for a few extra seconds, jaw set, making sure everyone in the room knows she's still annoyed. Then she climbs onto the right side, throws one leg over Ryujin's thigh possessively, and buries her face in Ryujin's neck.

"You better," Yuna mumbles against her throat.

Ryujin smiles into the dark, her arms full of warm bodies, the city glittering beyond the glass, and tightens her hold on all three of them at once.

Ryujin is the kind of drunk where every feeling she normally keeps on a leash just runs loose. She turns her head and catches Yeji first because Yeji is right there, her blonde hair (cropped short at the sides, longer on top, the kind of cut that made Chaeryeong stare for a full thirty seconds the day she came home with it) fanned against the pillow. Ryujin presses her mouth to Yeji's forehead, then her nose, then her lips, slow and unhurried and tasting like whiskey.

"Missed you," Ryujin mumbles against her mouth.

Yeji's hand tightens on her ribs. "You were gone for seven hours."

"Exactly. Seven whole hours without this face." She cups Yeji's jaw and tilts it, studying her like she's seeing her for the first time tonight, which in her current state she basically is. Yeji has one of those faces that's all sharp angles and feline intensity, the kind of bone structure that looks like someone sculpted it on purpose, and the blonde hair makes it worse (or better, depending on how much you enjoy being stared at by someone who looks like an anime antagonist). Her sleep shirt has slipped off one shoulder, exposing the long line of her collarbone, and Ryujin drags her thumb across it. "Pretty."

"You're drunk."

"I'm drunk and you're pretty. Both things can be true."

From Ryujin's right side comes a sharp exhale, and then Yuna is propping herself up on one elbow, her black hair spilling over her shoulder in a messy curtain. Yuna's face is the deceptive kind, all soft cheeks and full lips and big eyes that make people underestimate her constantly. She looks sweet. She is not sweet. "Am I just supposed to lie here while you make out with Yeji? Is that the plan?"

Ryujin doesn't even look at her. She leans in and kisses Yeji again, deeper this time, one hand sliding from her jaw to the back of her neck. Yeji makes a small sound against her mouth that she probably didn't mean to make.

"Ryujin."

"Hmm?"

"I'm literally right here."

Ryujin pulls back from Yeji (who looks mildly dazed, lips parted, which is extremely satisfying) and turns toward Yuna with the laziest, most self-satisfied expression. "Oh, are you? Didn't notice."

Yuna narrows her eyes. "You're the worst."

"Come here."

"No."

"Yuna." Ryujin's hand finds the curve of Yuna's hip under the blanket and squeezes. "Come. Here."

Yuna makes a show of reluctance, rolling her eyes, huffing, shifting her body closer in increments so small they're practically theoretical. But she gets there eventually, and when she does, Ryujin's mouth is on hers before she can complain about it. This kiss is different from Yeji's. Harder. Yuna bites at Ryujin's lower lip because she can never just accept anything easily, and Ryujin grins into it and bites her back.

"Brat," Ryujin says against Yuna's mouth.

"Whatever." But Yuna's cheeks are pink now, and she doesn't pull away.

Chaeryeong has been quiet through all of this, tucked under Ryujin's chin, watching the others with those round, dark eyes that always seem to be taking in more than she lets on. Her black hair is loose and straight, falling past her shoulders, still slightly fragrant from the vanilla shampoo she uses (the expensive one Ryujin bulk orders because Chaeryeong mentioned liking it exactly once). She's all delicate features and long limbs, the kind of proportions that make clothes look like they were designed for her specifically, though right now she's wearing an oversized tee and cotton shorts that belong to Ryujin.

Ryujin tilts her chin down and finds Chaeryeong looking up at her.

"Hi, baby."

Chaeryeong's mouth curves. "Hi."

Ryujin drops a kiss on her lips. Soft. Just a peck. Then another. Then a third, slightly longer, and Chaeryeong's fingers curl against Ryujin's stomach. "You taste like alcohol," Chaeryeong murmurs.

"Romantic, right?"

"Gross, actually."

Ryujin gasps in mock offense and tickles Chaeryeong's side until she squirms and giggles and buries her face back into Ryujin's neck. "Disrespect in my own bed. From my own baby girl. This is what I come home to."

Yeji stretches beside her, her sleep shirt riding up past her hip, and Ryujin's attention drifts the way it always does, that shameless gaze tracking over exposed skin like it's her god-given right. She reaches over and palms the curve of Yeji's ass, unhurried, proprietary. Yeji doesn't flinch. She just pushes into the touch slightly and keeps her eyes on Ryujin's face.

"You're so handsy when you're wasted," Yuna observes from the other side.

"I'm handsy when I'm sober too. You just don't complain about it then."

Yuna opens her mouth, closes it, and concedes the point with a grudging tilt of her head. Then she leans across Ryujin's body and kisses Chaeryeong, and something about the angle of it, Yuna's black hair mixing with Chaeryeong's where it falls between them, their mouths meeting over the plane of Ryujin's chest, makes Ryujin go still and just watch. Chaeryeong makes a small, pleased sound, and Yuna's hand comes up to cup her cheek, her thumb brushing along her jaw.

"Okay," Ryujin breathes. "That's just not fair."

Yeji props herself up to look and her expression shifts into something warm, that rare unguarded softness she usually saves for 3 AM conversations. She leans down and presses her lips to Ryujin's shoulder, then her collarbone, and Ryujin tips her head back and lets her.

This is the thing Ryujin will never admit out loud (but the narrator has no such reservations): she is completely, catastrophically, pathetically weak for being looked at by these three women. She runs a billion-dollar company. She negotiates with men twice her age and wins. She has a reputation in Seoul's business circles as someone you do not fuck with. And all it takes to absolutely dismantle her is Yeji's mouth on her skin and two pretty girls kissing on top of her.

"God, you're hot." Yuna has pulled back from Chaeryeong and is looking down at Ryujin's body now, properly looking, her gaze tracing the lines of her torso with open appreciation. Ryujin's body in just a black bra and underwear is something worth pausing for. She's lean in a way that suggests she works out when she remembers to, all toned stomach and slim waist and shoulders just broad enough to make every blazer she owns sit perfectly. Her skin is warm-toned and smooth except for a small scar on her hip from a childhood fall and the fading remains of a bite mark on her ribs that Yuna put there three days ago (and is now eyeing with a possessive little flicker of satisfaction).

"Yeah?" Ryujin grins up at the ceiling. "Tell me more."

Chaeryeong's hand slides up from Ryujin's stomach to the center of her chest, fingers splayed between her breasts, feeling her breathe. "You work out more than you think you do," Chaeryeong says quietly, tracing the faint definition of her abs. "Your body changed since last year."

"You been studying me, baby girl?"

Chaeryeong's cheeks color. "Maybe."

Yeji's mouth has traveled from Ryujin's collarbone down to the swell of her breast above the bra line, and she leaves a slow, open-mouthed kiss there that makes Ryujin's stomach clench. "You do look good," Yeji admits against her skin, and from Yeji, who is sparing with compliments, that lands heavier than anything Yuna could say.

Ryujin exhales, long and shaky, and her hand finds the back of Yeji's head, fingers threading through that short blonde hair. She pulls gently, guiding Yeji up so she can kiss her again, and this time it's slower, wetter, the kind of kiss that has intention behind it. Yeji hums into her mouth.

Yuna runs her nails lightly down Ryujin's stomach, watching the muscles contract under her touch, and leans close to her ear. "We should've charged you admission for coming home this late. Like, this whole hot body thing doesn't get you off the hook."

"It gets me off a lot of hooks, actually."

"Shut up."

Ryujin laughs, and then Yuna's mouth is on her neck, and Chaeryeong is pressing soft kisses along her jaw, and Yeji's hand is running down the length of her side, and Ryujin melts. Just dissolves into the mattress like someone pulled out whatever was holding her together. She lets out this long, satisfied sigh that comes from somewhere deep in her chest and tightens her arms around whoever she can reach.

"You girls are gonna kill me," she murmurs, eyes falling shut, a lazy grin still fixed on her lips as six hands map the landscape of her body with a familiarity that borders on devotion.

Ryujin's body is a live wire now. Every kiss, every brush of fingernails, every warm breath against her skin has been building something low in her belly, and drunk Ryujin has never been good at patience. She shifts under the weight of their attention, her hips lifting slightly off the mattress in a movement that's barely conscious, and Yeji notices because Yeji notices everything. Their eyes meet, and Yeji raises one eyebrow, and Ryujin just grins, shameless and hungry.

"Okay." Ryujin's hand slides down Chaeryeong's back and settles at the base of her spine. "You girls have been taking care of me all night."

"Someone has to," Yuna mutters against her throat.

"And I love that. I do." She pushes herself up on her elbows, dislodging the tangle of limbs around her, and looks at each of them in turn. There's something different in her expression now. Still drunk, still warm, but underneath it there's a sharpness that wasn't there a minute ago. The boardroom version of Ryujin, the one who makes grown men stutter, bleeding through the haze of whiskey. "But now it's mommy's turn."

Chaeryeong's breath catches. It's tiny, almost inaudible, but Ryujin feels it because Chaeryeong is still pressed against her side, and the sudden tension in her body is unmistakable. Ryujin looks down at her, at those wide dark eyes and parted lips and the flush already creeping up her neck, and something possessive and tender moves through her chest.

"Come here, baby girl." Ryujin shifts, turning her body toward Chaeryeong, and guides her gently onto her back. Chaeryeong goes without resistance, her black hair fanning out on the cream-colored pillow, her hands settling at her sides like she's not sure what to do with them. She's still in Ryujin's oversized tee and those cotton shorts, and her legs press together instinctively when Ryujin moves between them.

Ryujin kneels over her and runs both palms up Chaeryeong's thighs, slow and deliberate, pushing the hem of the shirt up as she goes. "These need to come off."

"Okay," Chaeryeong whispers.

"Lift your hips for me."

Chaeryeong does, and Ryujin hooks her fingers into the waistband of her shorts and pulls them down in one fluid motion, sliding them over those long, slender legs and tossing them somewhere off the side of the bed. Underneath, Chaeryeong's wearing plain white cotton underwear (the kind that somehow looks obscene on her because of the contrast, the innocent fabric against the heat radiating off her skin, the visible dampness already forming at the center). Ryujin stares.

"God, look at you," Ryujin says, and it comes out lower than she intended. She runs her thumb along the crease where Chaeryeong's thigh meets her hip, and Chaeryeong's stomach tenses. "Already wet and I haven't even done anything yet."

"Don't say that." Chaeryeong covers her face with both hands.

Ryujin pulls them away gently and pins them against the mattress by the wrists. "Don't hide from me. Not ever." She leans down and kisses Chaeryeong's stomach through the shirt, then lower, her mouth trailing along the soft skin below her navel. "Mommy wants to see everything."

On the other side of the bed, Yuna is pulling her own top over her head with zero ceremony. She doesn't fold it, doesn't set it aside neatly (that's a Yeji move), just balls it up and throws it. Her body is all taut curves, small but full breasts with dark nipples already stiff, a narrow waist that flares out into hips she knows how to use. She shimmies out of her shorts and kicks them off her ankles, then turns to Yeji with an expectant look.

"Are you just going to sit there?"

Yeji rolls her eyes but pulls her sleep shirt overhead, revealing the lean, elegant frame underneath. Where Yuna is all soft curves, Yeji is angles and lines, small breasts with pale pink nipples, defined collarbones, a flat stomach with the faintest vertical line of muscle. She folds her shirt (because of course she does) and sets it on the nightstand, then slides her underwear down her legs with a composure that makes the act look like a quiet dare.

Between Chaeryeong's thighs, Ryujin peels that last barrier of cotton to the side and presses her mouth against Chaeryeong's inner thigh, sucking softly, tasting the salt of her skin. Chaeryeong's leg twitches. Ryujin moves higher. Another kiss. Another inch. She can feel the heat coming off Chaeryeong's center before she even gets there, can smell her, and the combination of whiskey in her blood and the sweet, sharp scent of Chaeryeong's arousal makes her head spin in the best possible way.

"Please," Chaeryeong breathes, and her hips shift upward.

Ryujin doesn't answer. She slides Chaeryeong's underwear all the way off, dragging them slowly down her legs, letting her feel every second of being unwrapped. Then she settles between her thighs, hooks Chaeryeong's legs over her shoulders, and lowers her mouth.

The first lick is flat and broad, from the bottom of Chaeryeong's slit all the way up to her clit, and the sound Chaeryeong makes is something between a gasp and a whine, her hips jerking against Ryujin's face. Ryujin holds her down with one firm hand pressed flat against her lower belly and does it again, slower this time, letting her tongue drag through wet, swollen folds, tasting her properly. Chaeryeong is soaked. Dripping. The kind of wet that means she's been turned on since Ryujin walked through the door, maybe before, and Ryujin groans against her because she can't help it.

"Fuck, baby," Ryujin murmurs into her pussy. "You're so wet it's insane."

Chaeryeong's thighs tighten around Ryujin's head. Her hands find Ryujin's hair and grip, not pulling, just holding, needing something to anchor herself to. Ryujin's tongue circles her clit with a precision that has nothing to do with being drunk and everything to do with knowing this girl's body like a map she's memorized, and Chaeryeong's back arches off the bed.

"Mommy," Chaeryeong gasps, and the word comes out cracked and desperate, nothing like the shy girl who brought a glass of water twenty minutes ago. "That feels so good, please don't stop."

Ryujin hums against her in acknowledgment, her tongue flicking in tight, quick strokes over the swollen bud of Chaeryeong's clit before dropping lower to push inside her. Chaeryeong clenches around her immediately, hot and tight, and Ryujin fucks her with her tongue in slow, deep strokes, her nose grinding against Chaeryeong's clit with each movement.

Which is when Yuna decides she's done watching.

Ryujin is on her knees between Chaeryeong's legs, her ass lifted, and the sight of it in those black panties (the fabric stretched tight over the firm, round curve of her backside) is something Yuna has exactly zero interest in ignoring. She moves behind Ryujin, grabs her hips, and hooks one finger into the waistband of her underwear. She doesn't pull them off. She tugs them to the side, rough and impatient, exposing Ryujin's pussy from behind.

"Fuck, you're already dripping too," Yuna says, and the delight in her tone is almost feral. "Eating pussy gets you this worked up?"

Ryujin tries to respond, but her mouth is full of Chaeryeong, and the noise she makes is muffled and indistinct. Yuna takes that as encouragement. She leans forward, grips Ryujin's thighs to spread them wider, and drags her tongue in one long, slow lick through the slick mess of Ryujin's cunt.

Ryujin's entire body jolts. She moans directly into Chaeryeong's pussy, which makes Chaeryeong cry out above them, and the chain reaction is instantaneous, a circuit of pleasure feeding back into itself. Yuna grins against Ryujin's folds and does it again, this time pushing her tongue between her lips to find her clit, sucking it into her mouth with an enthusiasm that borders on competitive. (Yuna does everything like she's trying to win, including this.)

Behind Yuna, Yeji has positioned herself with the quiet intention she brings to every situation. She's kneeling on the bed, her body pressed along Yuna's back, one arm wrapped around her waist for balance. Her free hand slides down between Yuna's thighs from behind, and her fingers find her dripping wet already, slick coating the insides of her thighs.

"You couldn't even wait," Yeji says against the shell of Yuna's ear, and there's a hint of amusement underneath the composure. Her middle finger parts Yuna's folds and sinks inside her slowly, and Yuna moans against Ryujin's cunt, which makes Ryujin moan into Chaeryeong, and the whole chain reaction ripples through all four of them.

"Shut up," Yuna manages between licks, her hips grinding back against Yeji's hand. "You're just as wet, I can feel it on my back."

Yeji doesn't deny it. She adds a second finger and curls them both forward, finding that textured spot inside Yuna that makes her legs shake, and starts a steady, deliberate rhythm. Yuna's technique on Ryujin falters for a second, her tongue losing its pattern, and Ryujin pushes her ass back against Yuna's mouth demandingly.

"Don't stop," Ryujin growls into Chaeryeong's pussy, and the command is thick and muffled but unmistakable.

Yuna refocuses, her competitive streak overriding the distraction of Yeji's fingers inside her. She seals her lips around Ryujin's clit and sucks hard, flicking her tongue against the underside of it, and Ryujin shudders from head to toe. Her grip on Chaeryeong's hips tightens, pulling her closer, burying herself deeper between her legs.

Chaeryeong is a wreck above them all. Her shirt has ridden up past her ribs, her small breasts exposed, nipples hard and flushed dark. Her stomach trembles with each shaking breath. One of her hands is still tangled in Ryujin's long black hair, the other gripping fistfuls of the cream sheets, and her thighs are trembling where they bracket Ryujin's head. She stares up at the ceiling with glassy, unfocused eyes, her mouth hanging open, making sounds she'll definitely be embarrassed about later.

"Right there," Chaeryeong pleads, her hips rolling up against Ryujin's tongue in a rhythm that's getting less controlled by the second. "Right there, mommy, please, right there, just like that."

Yeji watches the whole tableau from behind Yuna, her fingers pumping steadily inside her, her own breath coming faster now, her nipples stiff and aching, wetness slicking her own thighs where they press together. She presses her mouth to the back of Yuna's neck and sucks a mark there, staking her own quiet claim in the middle of the chaos.

Yuna pulls off Ryujin's clit with a wet, obscene sound and replaces her mouth with her thumb, rubbing fast, tight circles while she catches her breath. She turns her head just enough to look back at Yeji over her shoulder. "Harder."

Yeji obliges without a word, adding a third finger and driving into her with enough force to make Yuna's body rock forward, which pushes her thumb harder against Ryujin's clit, which makes Ryujin's tongue fuck deeper into Chaeryeong, and the whole bed is moving now, four bodies linked in a chain of giving and receiving that's equal parts graceful and filthy.

Ryujin is groaning nonstop into Chaeryeong's cunt, her hips rolling back against Yuna's touch, her thighs trembling with the dual effort of pleasuring and being pleasured. She shifts her mouth back to Chaeryeong's clit and starts sucking in earnest, two of her fingers pressing at Chaeryeong's entrance, pushing inside her slowly, feeling her stretch and clench around them.

Chaeryeong's whole body locks up. Her back bows off the bed, her grip in Ryujin's hair tightening almost to the point of pain, and the sound she makes is raw and broken and so loud that Yuna laughs against Ryujin's pussy.

"She's loud tonight," Yuna murmurs into slick skin, and goes right back to work with her tongue.

Ryujin curls her fingers forward inside Chaeryeong and feels the exact moment everything tips. Chaeryeong's walls clamp down tight, fluttering, her whole body going rigid beneath Ryujin's mouth. Her thighs slam shut around Ryujin's head like a vice, her hips bucking up off the mattress in desperate, uncontrolled rolls, and Ryujin doesn't let up. She keeps her lips sealed around Chaeryeong's clit, keeps sucking, keeps her fingers stroking that swollen spot inside her, riding every wave of it with the steady, patient confidence of someone who has learned this body by heart.

Chaeryeong sobs. Not sad crying. The other kind. The kind where pleasure short-circuits something fundamental in the brain and all that comes out is noise and tears. Her mouth is wide open, her chest heaving under the bunched-up shirt, and her fingers are yanking Ryujin's hair so hard that Ryujin's scalp burns. She doesn't care. She loves it. She groans into Chaeryeong's cunt and drinks her down, tongue lapping through the flood of wetness as Chaeryeong's orgasm crashes over her in long, shuddering pulses.

"Mommy, mommy, oh god, I can't," Chaeryeong babbles, her voice cracking on every syllable, thighs trembling violently against Ryujin's cheeks. "It's too much, it's too much, please."

Ryujin eases off. Slowly. She pulls her fingers out gently, presses one last soft kiss to Chaeryeong's swollen clit (making her jolt and whimper), then lifts her head. Her chin is dripping. Her lips are swollen and shiny and she's grinning like she just closed another billion-dollar deal, completely triumphant, completely pleased with herself. She wipes her mouth with the back of her hand and crawls up Chaeryeong's body to kiss her forehead.

"Good girl," Ryujin murmurs against her damp skin. "Such a good girl for mommy. You did so well."

Chaeryeong is boneless. Completely wrecked. Her lashes are wet, her cheeks are flushed dark, and she's still trembling with aftershocks, little involuntary twitches running through her legs. She reaches up with shaky hands and cups Ryujin's face, pulling her down for a messy, graceless kiss that tastes like herself. Ryujin hums into it, satisfied, and strokes Chaeryeong's hair until her breathing starts to settle.

Then Ryujin sits back on her heels, surveys the bed, and her expression shifts.

Yuna is still behind her, Yeji's fingers still buried inside her, and the brat has gone quiet in the way she only goes quiet when she's getting close to something she doesn't want to admit. Her face is pressed into the mattress, her ass pushed back against Yeji's hand, her breathing ragged and desperate. Yeji meets Ryujin's eyes over Yuna's trembling back, and without a word, without needing to be told, she slows her fingers to a stop.

Yuna's head snaps up. "What the fuck?"

"Wasn't my call." Yeji nods toward Ryujin, calm as ever, her slick fingers still resting inside Yuna but motionless.

Ryujin tilts her head. Smiles. The kind of smile that makes Yuna's stomach drop every single time. "Nobody said you could cum yet."

"Are you serious right now?"

"Dead serious." Ryujin reaches behind her own back, unclasps her bra, and tosses it aside. Then she stands up from the bed entirely, and all three pairs of eyes follow her. She stretches, rolling her shoulders, still a little unsteady from the whiskey but moving with that loose, easy confidence that makes her look like she owns every room she enters (because she usually does, literally). She walks to the dresser, pulls open the second drawer, and takes out the harness.

It's black leather with silver hardware. Expensive. Custom fit. Ryujin had it made by some boutique designer in Amsterdam that Yeji found online, and the dildo attached to it is matte black silicone, thick enough to make Chaeryeong's eyes go wide every time and long enough that Ryujin has to be careful (or not, depending on her mood). She holds it up and turns back to face the bed with a grin so bright it's almost cheerful, almost innocent, if not for the toy dangling from her fingers.

"I think," Ryujin says, stepping into the harness one leg at a time, slow, deliberate, letting them watch, "someone on this bed has been running her mouth all night."

Yuna stiffens. Yeji pulls her fingers out and sits back, wiping them on the sheets with an almost clinical disinterest (though the flush on her chest and the shine on her inner thighs betray exactly how affected she really is).

Ryujin pulls the harness up over her hips and adjusts the straps, tightening them with practiced tugs, the leather sitting snug against her hip bones. The black cock juts out from her pelvis, heavy and obscene, and she wraps one hand around it, stroking it once, twice, like she's testing the weight of it. Then she looks directly at Yuna.

"Come here."

Yuna doesn't move. She's on all fours on the bed, her black hair wild around her face, her lips swollen and still glistening from eating Ryujin out. Her nipples are hard, her thighs are trembling, and she's so turned on from Yeji's edging that she can barely think straight. But she is who she is.

"Make me."

Ryujin laughs. Full, genuine, delighted. She loves this part. "Okay."

She climbs back onto the bed, grabs a fistful of Yuna's hair at the base of her skull, and pulls. Not gentle. Not mean. Just firm enough to say I'm not asking. Yuna gasps, her head tipping back, throat exposed, and Ryujin guides her forward until she's kneeling in front of her, face to face with the strap.

"You've had so much to say tonight." Ryujin's free hand cups Yuna's jaw, her thumb pressing against her lower lip, pulling it down slightly. "Mommy thinks we should give that pretty mouth something to do."

Yuna's eyes flick up to Ryujin's. Dark and defiant and absolutely burning. "You think that's gonna shut me up?"

"Open."

Yuna holds the stare for another beat. Two. Then her lips part.

Ryujin feeds the tip of the cock past her lips slowly, watching the black silicone disappear into Yuna's mouth inch by inch. Yuna's jaw stretches wide to accommodate the girth, her tongue pressing flat against the underside, and she takes half of it before she stops, gagging slightly, spit already pooling at the corners of her mouth.

"More," Ryujin says pleasantly. Like she's asking her to pass the salt.

She pushes deeper. Her hand stays firm in Yuna's hair, controlling the pace, controlling the depth, and Yuna's throat constricts around the thick head of the cock as it nudges the back of her mouth. Tears prick at the corners of her eyes. Spit runs down her chin in a thin, shiny line. She grips Ryujin's thighs for balance, her nails digging into the muscle, and takes it.

"There we go." Ryujin's grin is devastating. Warm and wicked all at once. She strokes Yuna's cheek with her free hand, a gesture so tender it contrasts obscenely with the cock stuffed halfway down her throat. "See? So much better when your mouth is full."

She pulls back slowly, letting Yuna gasp and suck in air, a string of spit connecting her swollen lips to the tip of the strap. Then pushes back in, deeper this time, and Yuna gags hard, her whole body lurching forward, throat spasming. Ryujin holds her there for a count of three. Four. Five. Lets her struggle.

"Breathe through your nose, baby." Still that cheerful, patient tone. "You know how this works."

Yuna does. She forces herself to relax, her jaw going slack, her throat opening, and Ryujin sinks in until Yuna's nose is pressed against her lower belly. All the way. Yuna's eyes are streaming now, mascara starting to run, spit coating the entire length of the silicone cock, dripping off her chin and onto her bare chest.

Ryujin looks down at her, at this gorgeous, bratty, impossible girl on her knees with a throat full of cock and tears on her cheeks, and her whole face softens. She brushes a strand of wet black hair from Yuna's forehead. "That's my girl."

On the bed behind them, Chaeryeong has recovered enough to prop herself up on her elbows and watch, her bottom lip caught between her teeth. Yeji has moved beside her, one hand resting on Chaeryeong's thigh, her fingers tracing absent circles on her skin while her gaze stays fixed on Ryujin's hips rolling forward in slow, controlled thrusts into Yuna's mouth.

Ryujin starts fucking her face properly now. Shallow strokes at first, letting Yuna adjust, then longer, harder, the wet sounds filling the bedroom alongside Yuna's choked, desperate breathing. Ryujin's abs flex with each push, her thighs braced apart, her grip in Yuna's hair guiding her forward to meet every thrust.

"Look at me," Ryujin commands, and Yuna's glazed, tear-streaked eyes snap up to hers, wide and wrecked and furious and completely, hopelessly devoted. Ryujin rocks her hips forward one more time, holding deep, watching Yuna's throat work around the intrusion, watching her fight to keep her gaze locked on Ryujin's even as her body screams for air.

She pulls out entirely. Yuna coughs, gasping, a rope of spit swinging from her chin, and Ryujin catches her face in both hands and kisses her hard on the mouth, tasting salt and silicone and defiance.

"Good girl," Ryujin murmurs against her wet lips, thumb swiping a tear from her cheek. "Now who's next?"

Her eyes drift over Yuna's shoulder to Yeji and Chaeryeong tangled together on the sheets, and the grin that spreads across her face is pure, predatory sunshine.

Ryujin pushes back in, one smooth roll of her hips that sends the full length of the strap sliding past Yuna's swollen lips, and holds. Yuna's throat contracts, her eyes watering, and Ryujin tilts her head to the side, studying her the way someone might admire a painting they just bought.

"Get it nice and wet for me, baby." She loosens her grip in Yuna's hair just enough to let her move on her own. "All the way down. I want it dripping."

Yuna pulls back until only the tip rests on her lower lip, spit stretching between the slick silicone and her mouth in thin, shiny threads. She takes a breath, glares up at Ryujin (because she wouldn't be Yuna if she didn't make her displeasure known even with a cock in her face), and then drops back down. All the way. Her nose pressed flat against Ryujin's pelvis, her throat bulging around the girth, drool spilling freely from the corners of her stretched mouth and running in warm streaks down her chin, her neck, pooling in the dip between her collarbones.

"Fuck," Chaeryeong says from the bed, barely above a breath. She's sitting up now, legs folded beneath her, Ryujin's oversized shirt still bunched around her ribs. Her eyes haven't left Yuna's mouth. "She's taking the whole thing."

Yeji is beside her, propped against the headboard, one hand resting on Chaeryeong's bare thigh. Her expression is composed (it almost always is) but her chest rises and falls faster than usual, and her thighs are pressed together tight. "She's showing off."

"Obviously," Chaeryeong murmurs.

"Is it working on you?"

Chaeryeong doesn't answer. She doesn't need to. The way she shifts her weight and squeezes her legs together says plenty.

Yuna bobs her head in long, deliberate strokes, hollowing her cheeks, letting the spit build up and overflow with each pass. The sounds are filthy, wet and thick, and she's not being subtle about any of it. Every time she pulls back, she lets her tongue drag along the underside, swirling around the tip, lapping at it like she's putting on a performance. (She is. She absolutely is. Yuna has never done a single thing in her life without an audience in mind.)

Ryujin threads her fingers through Yuna's black hair, petting her, almost gentle now. "That's it. Just like that. Get every inch."

Yuna pulls off with a gasp and spits directly onto the shaft, a thick glob of saliva running down the silicone. Then she wraps both hands around it and strokes, spreading the mess, twisting her wrists, coating it until the entire length gleams under the bedroom's low light. She looks up at Ryujin, lips puffy and ruined, mascara smudged into dark half-moons beneath her eyes, chin dripping.

"Wet enough for you?"

Ryujin cups her face. Runs her thumb through the mess on Yuna's lower lip. "Almost. Open up. One more."

Yuna opens her mouth and Ryujin slides back in, this time holding the back of her head with both hands, fucking into her throat with slow, measured thrusts. Yuna gags on the deepest ones, her body convulsing, fresh tears rolling down her cheeks, but she doesn't tap out. She grabs Ryujin's hips and pulls her closer, swallowing around the thick head lodged in her throat, and the choked, gurgling sounds that come out of her make Chaeryeong press her hand between her own legs without thinking about it.

"She's going to ruin her throat," Yeji observes, and the steadiness in her tone would be convincing if her nipples weren't visibly stiff, if her thighs didn't keep flexing against each other.

Chaeryeong leans into Yeji's side, her cheek against her shoulder. "You're staring."

"I'm observing."

"Your hand is shaking."

Yeji looks down at her own fingers on Chaeryeong's thigh. They are, in fact, trembling slightly. She moves them higher on Chaeryeong's leg and says nothing.

Ryujin pulls out for the last time, and the strap emerges coated in a thick, glistening layer of spit, strands of it connecting to Yuna's wrecked mouth. It drips onto the sheets between Ryujin's feet. She looks down at it, then back at Yuna, and her whole face breaks into that bright, devastating grin.

"Thank you, baby." She bends down and kisses Yuna's forehead, lingering, tender, and Yuna leans into it despite herself, her eyes fluttering closed for just a second. "You got it so wet for me. Perfect."

Yuna wipes her chin with the back of her hand and tries to reassemble her dignity. "Don't patronize me."

"I'm not patronizing you. I'm praising you. There's a difference." Ryujin straightens up and turns toward the bed, toward Yeji and Chaeryeong tangled together against the headboard, and the strap bobs obscenely between her legs, heavy and slick. Her gaze finds Yeji.

Something shifts in the room. Yeji feels it before the words come. She always does.

"Your turn." Ryujin's tone drops half a register. Still warm. Still playful. But underneath it, steel. "On all fours. Middle of the bed."

Yeji's throat works as she swallows. She untangles herself from Chaeryeong, smooths her short blonde hair back from her face in a motion that looks automatic (a composure ritual, the narrator suspects, one last attempt to maintain control before she gives it away), and moves to the center of the mattress. She lowers herself onto her hands and knees, back straight, legs slightly apart, and the long line of her spine is beautiful in the dim light. She looks over her shoulder at Ryujin and waits.

"Good girl," Ryujin says softly, and Yeji's arms tremble.

Ryujin climbs onto the bed behind her, kneeling close, and for a long moment she just looks. Yeji's body from this angle is lean and elegant, the subtle curve of her waist, the pale expanse of her back, the tight swell of her ass. She runs her palm from the base of Yeji's spine all the way down over one cheek, slow, proprietary, and Yeji's breath hitches.

"You've been so patient tonight." Ryujin squeezes, her fingers sinking into the firm muscle of Yeji's ass. "Standing there, watching, taking care of everyone. You always do that."

"Someone has to," Yeji murmurs into the sheets, and the strain in her composure is audible now.

Ryujin draws her hand back and brings it down. Not hard. A warm, stinging slap that echoes in the quiet room and leaves a pink flush blooming across Yeji's skin. Yeji's whole body rocks forward, a sharp breath punching out of her lungs.

"Did I say you could be modest right now?"

Yeji presses her lips together. "No."

Another slap, harder this time, on the other cheek. The sound cracks through the room and Yeji drops to her elbows, her forehead against the mattress, the muscles in her back shifting as she absorbs it. The pink print of Ryujin's hand darkens on her pale skin.

"Louder."

"No, mommy." Yeji's composure fractures right down the middle. Her hips push back toward Ryujin involuntarily, chasing the contact, and Ryujin grins behind her.

Yuna has crawled to the edge of the bed, sprawled on her stomach, chin propped in both hands, watching Yeji get spanked with undisguised glee. Her face is still a mess of smeared mascara and dried spit and she doesn't care at all. "Oh, she loves this. Look at her back arching."

"Shut up, Yuna." Yeji's words are muffled by the sheets.

"You're literally pushing your ass back. You're begging for it."

Ryujin hums in agreement and lands a third slap, this one lower, catching the curve where Yeji's ass meets her thigh, and Yeji jerks, a strangled sound escaping through her clenched teeth. Ryujin smooths her hand over the stinging skin, soothing, then dips her fingers down between Yeji's thighs from behind. She finds her soaked. Absolutely drenched. Slick coating the insides of her thighs, her pussy swollen and hot against Ryujin's exploring fingers.

"Fuck, Yeji." Ryujin sounds genuinely delighted. "You've been this wet the entire time?"

Yeji doesn't answer. Her fingers grip the sheets so hard her knuckles go white.

Ryujin gathers the wetness on her fingers and brings them to her own mouth, tasting, savoring, making a soft appreciative sound. Then she grips the strap and runs the spit-slick head along Yeji's slit, nudging through swollen folds, bumping against her clit, sliding back up. Teasing. Just the tip pressing against her entrance for a second before pulling away.

Yeji's hips chase it. Her whole body sways backward, trying to take what Ryujin won't give her yet.

"What do you want?" Ryujin presses the head against her opening, just barely. Enough pressure to stretch but not enter. "Tell me."

"You know what I want."

"I want to hear you say it."

Yeji turns her head to the side. Her cheek is pressed against the mattress, her short blonde hair falling into her eyes, and the look on her face is naked need held together by one last thread of composure. "Please fuck me, mommy."

"Louder."

"Please fuck me."

Ryujin lines the head of the strap up against Yeji's entrance, one hand on her hip, the other guiding the shaft, and pushes forward. Just the tip. Just enough to spread her open around the thick head, and Yeji's mouth falls open in a silent gasp, her back dipping, her fingers clawing the sheets.

Then Ryujin stops. Holds. Lets her feel every inch of that stretch.

Yuna rolls onto her side and reaches out to tuck a strand of blonde hair behind Yeji's ear, her touch almost sweet, almost gentle, completely at odds with the smirk on her ruined mouth.

"How's it feel?"

Yeji's eyes are squeezed shut. Her whole body is trembling, suspended between the pressure of the strap barely inside her and the desperate, aching need for more. She doesn't answer Yuna. She just reaches back blindly, finds Ryujin's thigh, and digs her nails in.

Ryujin laughs, low and satisfied, her fingers tightening on Yeji's hips, the strap still barely breaching her, still holding her right at the edge of more.

Ryujin slams her hips forward and buries the entire length of the strap inside Yeji in one brutal, unforgiving thrust.

Yeji screams. There's no other way to describe the sound that tears out of her. Not a moan, not a gasp, a scream, raw and sharp and broken, ripped from somewhere deep in her chest as her body lurches forward on the bed. Her elbows give out and she drops face-first into the mattress, fingers clawing the sheets, back arched so deep her spine looks like a drawn bow. The thick silicone stretches her open all at once, filling her completely, and her thighs shake so hard the whole bed trembles.

"There we go," Ryujin breathes behind her, both hands locked on Yeji's hips, fingers pressing bruises into pale skin. She doesn't give her time to adjust. She pulls back halfway and drives in again, hard, the wet slap of the harness against Yeji's ass cutting through the room. "That's what you needed, huh? All that patience and composure and you just needed to get fucked stupid."

Yeji can't respond. Her mouth is open against the sheets, her eyes squeezed shut, every muscle in her body clenching and releasing with each punishing stroke. She nods. Frantic. Desperate.

"Use your tongue, baby. I know you have one."

"Yes," Yeji chokes out. "Yes, mommy, please, don't stop."

Ryujin doesn't stop. She sets a pace that's relentless from the start, pulling almost all the way out before snapping her hips forward, burying the strap to the hilt every single time. The sound of it is obscene. Wet, heavy impacts, skin against skin, the creak of the bed frame, Yeji's strangled moans muffled by the pillow she's biting down on.

"Nuh-uh." Ryujin grabs a fistful of blonde hair and yanks Yeji's head up. "I want to hear every sound. Don't you dare hide from me."

Yeji's face is flushed dark, her lips parted, her eyes glassy and unfocused. The composure is gone. Completely gone. Stripped away like paint under sandpaper, and underneath it is just raw, desperate need. "Mommy, it's so deep."

"I know it is." Ryujin rolls her hips in a grinding circle, pressing the full length against Yeji's front wall, and Yeji's entire body convulses. "You're taking it so well. My good girl always takes it so well."

From the head of the bed, Yuna watches with her legs crossed underneath her, one hand between her thighs, fingers lazily stroking her own clit. Her face is still a smeared disaster of mascara and dried spit and she looks completely at peace with it. "Damn, Yeji. All that 'someone has to be responsible' energy and you fold the second she puts it in."

"Yuna, I swear to god," Yeji gasps between thrusts.

"You swear to god what? You can barely talk right now."

Ryujin laughs, bright and mean and delighted, and punctuates it with a particularly savage thrust that makes Yeji's arms give out again. She grabs both of Yeji's wrists, pins them behind her back with one hand, and uses the leverage to fuck into her even harder. Yeji's cheek presses into the mattress, her body rocking forward with each impact, completely at Ryujin's mercy.

"Look at her," Ryujin says to no one in particular, admiring the way Yeji's shoulder blades flex against the restraint of her grip. "Miss 'I have everything under control.' Not so controlled now, are you, baby?"

"No," Yeji whimpers.

"No, what?"

"No, mommy."

"Good girl." Ryujin releases her wrists and brings her palm down hard on Yeji's ass, right over the pink marks already blooming there. The slap echoes and Yeji cries out, her pussy clenching visibly around the shaft. Ryujin feels the resistance and grins. "Oh, you liked that. You squeezed so tight I almost couldn't move."

Chaeryeong has crawled closer, kneeling near Yeji's head, still wearing that bunched-up shirt and nothing else. She reaches down and brushes the damp blonde hair from Yeji's face with gentle fingers, tucking it behind her ear. Yeji opens her eyes and looks up at her, and the expression on her face is something Chaeryeong has never seen before. Complete surrender. Total vulnerability. Yeji, who handles everything, who holds it all together, letting go entirely.

"You look so pretty like this," Chaeryeong says softly, and her thumb traces the line of Yeji's cheekbone.

Yeji makes a broken sound and turns her face into Chaeryeong's palm, kissing it, nuzzling against her fingers while Ryujin fucks her from behind without mercy. Chaeryeong cups her face in both hands and leans down to kiss her mouth, soft and sweet, a stark contrast to the brutal pace Ryujin is setting.

"Tell mommy how good it feels," Ryujin demands. She adjusts her angle, hiking one of Yeji's knees up higher on the bed, spreading her wider, and sinks in at a new depth that makes Yeji tear away from Chaeryeong's kiss to sob openly. "Tell me."

"It feels so good, mommy, it feels so good, I can't think, I can't—" Yeji's babbling now, stringing fragments together between thrusts, her body jolting forward with each one. "You're so deep, you're so deep, please, please, please."

"Please what? Tell me what you want."

"Harder."

Ryujin obliges. She plants one hand flat between Yeji's shoulder blades, pressing her down into the mattress, and drives into her with everything she has. The bed slams against the wall. Chaeryeong's water glass (the one from earlier, sitting forgotten on the nightstand) rattles with each impact. Ryujin's abs burn, her thighs burn, the whiskey-sweat on her skin catches the low light, and she doesn't slow down for a second.

Yuna leans toward Chaeryeong, still lazily touching herself. "She asked for harder. That's bold."

Chaeryeong bites her lip. "She can take it."

"Obviously she can take it. Look at her. She's loving it." Yuna's gaze drops to the junction of Ryujin's hips and Yeji's ass, to the glistening shaft disappearing into her over and over, to the obscene amount of wetness coating Yeji's inner thighs and dripping onto the cream sheets below her. "She's making such a mess."

Ryujin hears that and something possessive flares in her chest. She pulls out almost entirely, just the tip resting between Yeji's swollen folds, and Yeji whines at the loss, her hips pushing backward frantically.

"Stay still." One sharp word and Yeji freezes, trembling, every muscle locked. Ryujin runs her hand over the curve of Yeji's ass, across the red handprints, down between her legs. Her fingers slide through the slick mess of her pussy, gathering wetness, spreading it up and over her clit. Yeji twitches and gasps. "You really are soaked. My perfect, filthy, obedient girl."

"Please put it back in. Please, mommy, please, I need it."

Ryujin pushes all the way in with one fluid stroke and Yeji's scream cracks into something guttural, almost animal. She starts fucking her again, fast and deep, her grip on Yeji's hip so tight her knuckles go white, and she can feel Yeji starting to clench around the shaft in rhythmic, involuntary pulses.

"You're close," Ryujin states. Not a question. She knows this body. Knows the signs. The way Yeji's thighs lock up, the way her moans climb in pitch, the way her pussy grips tighter and tighter. "You're going to cum on mommy's cock."

"Yes," Yeji sobs. "Yes, yes, I'm so close, please let me, please."

"You've been so good tonight. Taking care of everything. Taking care of everyone." Ryujin leans forward, draping her body over Yeji's back, her breasts pressing against Yeji's shoulder blades, her mouth right against her ear. Her hips keep moving, grinding deep, the full length of the strap buried inside her. "Cum for me. You earned it."

Yeji shatters.

Her whole body locks rigid, every muscle drawing taut at once, and then she's shaking, her pussy clamping down so hard around the strap that Ryujin has to force her hips to keep moving. Yeji's mouth opens in a silent cry, her fingers twisted in the sheets, her back arched against Ryujin's chest. It hits her in waves, each one pulling a new sound out of her, broken gasps and whimpers and these low, guttural moans that don't sound anything like the composed, steady Yeji they all know.

Ryujin fucks her through it. Slower now, deep and grinding, drawing out every aftershock, murmuring against her ear. "That's it. That's my good girl. Let go. I've got you."

Yeji collapses flat onto the mattress, and Ryujin follows her down, still inside her, pressing soft kisses along the back of her neck, the curve of her shoulder, the ridge of her spine. Yeji is trembling from head to toe, her breathing ragged and wet, and when Ryujin finally pulls out (slow, careful, the slick shaft sliding free with an obscene, wet sound), Yeji whimpers at the emptiness and turns her face into the pillow.

"Holy shit," Yuna says from across the bed, her hand still between her own legs, her eyes wide. "That was intense even for you."

Chaeryeong is stroking Yeji's hair again, petting her gently. Yeji reaches up blindly and catches Chaeryeong's hand, lacing their fingers together, holding on tight.

Ryujin sits back on her heels, chest heaving, the strap glistening between her legs, and looks down at Yeji's spent, trembling body with an expression that's equal parts satisfied and adoring. She runs one hand down the length of Yeji's spine, feeling the aftershocks still rippling through her muscles, and grins at the ceiling.

Ryujin drags the back of her hand across her forehead and lets out a long, satisfied exhale. Her skin is damp, her hair sticking to her temples, and the muscles in her thighs are burning in that specific way that means she went harder than a drunk woman probably should have. She falls backward onto the bed, arms spread, the strap standing straight up from her hips, still coated and glistening from Yeji.

"Okay." She stares up at the ceiling, grinning, chest rising and falling. "That one took it out of me."

Yuna snorts from somewhere to her left. "Old."

"I will deal with you later." Ryujin turns her head and finds Chaeryeong, who is kneeling at the edge of the bed with her hands in her lap, still wearing that bunched-up shirt, watching everything with those enormous dark eyes. Ryujin's expression goes soft and hungry at the same time, a combination only she can pull off. She extends one hand, palm up. "Come here, baby girl. Come ride mommy."

Chaeryeong's lips part. She looks at the strap, thick and wet and jutting up from Ryujin's pelvis, and her throat bobs as she swallows. Then she reaches for the hem of her shirt and pulls it over her head.

The room gets a fraction quieter. Not because anyone stops breathing, but because Chaeryeong naked is something that still does that to all of them, even now, even after months. She's all long limbs and smooth, pale skin, small breasts with pink nipples already peaked and stiff, a tiny waist that curves into narrow hips. Her stomach has that natural definition. Visible abs, not from training like Ryujin, just pure genetic blessing. She's beautiful in a way that looks accidental, like she doesn't quite realize what she does to people, even though she's kneeling naked on a bed surrounded by three women who want to devour her.

"Gorgeous," Yeji murmurs from the pillows, still catching her own breath, her body loose and spent.

Chaeryeong's cheeks flush immediately. She tucks her hair behind both ears and crawls forward on her knees, swinging one leg over Ryujin's hips until she's straddling her. The wet head of the strap presses against her inner thigh and she shivers, her hands bracing on Ryujin's stomach for balance.

Ryujin settles both palms on Chaeryeong's thighs and strokes upward, slow and grounding. "Take your time. Go as slow as you need."

Chaeryeong reaches between her own legs, wraps her fingers around the shaft, and positions it. The blunt tip nudges against her entrance, spreading her folds, and she holds there for a second, biting her lower lip so hard it turns white. Then she sinks down.

Slow. So slow it's almost painful to watch. Her pussy stretches around the head, swallowing the first thick inch, and her whole body tenses. Her thighs tremble on either side of Ryujin's hips. Her nails dig into Ryujin's stomach. She takes another inch, her mouth falling open, her eyes squeezing shut, and pauses again, adjusting, breathing through the fullness of it.

"That's it." Ryujin's thumbs rub circles on Chaeryeong's hips. "Slow, baby. Let it open you up."

Chaeryeong drops another two inches and a high, thin sound leaks out of her, desperate and uncontrolled. She's barely halfway and already she looks ruined, her chin tilted up, her chest flushed pink, her thighs quaking with the effort of controlling her descent. Ryujin watches from below with an expression that belongs in a museum. Pure adoration cut with something predatory and dark.

"Look at you." Ryujin's grip tightens on her hips. "Stuffing yourself full of mommy's cock. And you act so shy."

Chaeryeong whimpers and sinks the rest of the way down in one trembling slide, taking the full length until she's sitting flush against Ryujin's pelvis. The strap disappears completely inside her and she goes still, her whole body rigid, her mouth open in a silent gasp. She's so full she can feel it in her stomach. Her fingers splay across Ryujin's abs and her head drops forward, black hair curtaining her face.

"All of it," Ryujin says, something proud and filthy in her tone. "Every single inch. My baby girl is so greedy."

Chaeryeong starts to move. Small rolls of her hips at first, barely lifting, just grinding down on the full length, getting used to the stretch. Then longer movements, rising up until the head nearly slips out before sinking back down, her pussy gripping the shaft, her wetness coating it fresh with every stroke. Her pace is slow, unhurried, almost dreamlike, and the slick sounds of it fill the quiet room.

Yuna moves first. She shifts onto her side beside Ryujin, propping herself up, and her attention locks onto Chaeryeong's chest. Those small breasts, bouncing gently with each rise and fall, nipples stiff and flushed. Yuna leans in and takes the left one into her mouth without preamble, sucking the nipple between her lips, her tongue circling the hard peak.

Chaeryeong gasps and her rhythm falters. "Oh god."

Yeji appears on the other side, still looking wrecked from her own orgasm (flushed skin, swollen lips, that glassy post-orgasm haze in her cat-like eyes), but she pushes through it with the same quiet determination she brings to everything. She cups Chaeryeong's right breast in her palm, almost reverently, and takes the nipple into her mouth. Softer than Yuna. Slower. Her tongue tracing warm circles around the sensitive bud before sucking gently.

Chaeryeong's head falls back. She's riding Ryujin's cock with two mouths on her breasts and her whole body is trembling with the sensory overload of it, her hips stuttering, her thighs clenching, broken little sounds spilling from her lips with every breath.

"Fuck, look at her." Ryujin's hands tighten on Chaeryeong's waist, guiding her down onto the next stroke. "Riding my cock like she was made for it. And those pretty little tits getting sucked on." She runs one hand up Chaeryeong's stomach, between the two heads working on her chest, and presses her palm flat over Chaeryeong's sternum, feeling her heart hammering. "You love this, don't you? All this attention on your body."

Chaeryeong nods frantically, unable to form sentences.

Yuna pulls off her nipple with a wet pop and looks up at Chaeryeong's face, at the tears already forming in the corners of her eyes, at the deep flush spreading down her neck. "She's already crying. We barely started."

"She cries because it feels good," Yeji says against Chaeryeong's breast, her breath hot on the spit-slick skin. "Don't tease her."

"I'm absolutely going to tease her." Yuna bites down on Chaeryeong's nipple, not hard, just enough to sting, and Chaeryeong yelps, her pussy clenching around the strap so tight that Ryujin groans beneath her. Yuna grins. "See? She liked that. Mommy's little pain slut."

"I'm not," Chaeryeong protests weakly, even as her hips grind down harder.

"Baby." Ryujin tilts her head on the pillow, studying Chaeryeong from below with that lazy, knowing smile. "You're dripping down my thighs right now. You're bouncing on my cock with two girls sucking your tits and you're literally crying. You are exactly what she said you are."

Chaeryeong's face crumbles into something between shame and arousal, her cheeks burning so hot they look sunburned, and a tear spills down her cheek. She doesn't stop riding. If anything, her pace picks up, her hips lifting higher, dropping harder, the wet impact of each downstroke getting louder.

Yeji reaches up and catches the tear with her thumb, wiping it gently. Then she cups Chaeryeong's jaw and turns her face toward her own. "You're so beautiful like this," she says, and kisses her, slow and deep, tasting the salt on her lips. "So beautiful taking mommy's cock."

Yuna latches back onto her nipple and sucks hard, hollowing her cheeks, pulling the stiff bud into her mouth and flicking her tongue across the tip. Her free hand slides down Chaeryeong's stomach and finds her clit, swollen and slick where it grinds against the base of the strap with each stroke. She presses two fingers against it and rubs in tight, deliberate circles.

Chaeryeong breaks the kiss with Yeji and cries out, her whole body lurching forward. "Too much, it's too much, I can't."

"You can." Ryujin's grip on her hips turns iron. She holds Chaeryeong down on the full length of the strap and rolls her own hips upward, grinding deep inside her, and Chaeryeong sobs openly, her hands scrambling for purchase on Ryujin's chest. "You can and you will because mommy says so. Keep riding."

Chaeryeong obeys. Of course she does. She lifts her hips on shaking legs and drops back down, impaling herself over and over, tears streaming down her cheeks while Yuna's fingers work her clit and two mouths trade between her breasts, and the sounds coming out of her mouth are barely human anymore. She's a mess. A gorgeous, debauched, tear-streaked mess, riding the line between overwhelmed and desperate for more.

"That's our good girl," Yeji murmurs, kissing the curve of her breast. "That's mommy's perfect girl."

"Mommy's perfect little slut," Yuna corrects against the other breast, and Chaeryeong shudders between them, caught in the push and pull of tenderness and filth, her body surrendering to both at once.

Ryujin watches from below, one hand on Chaeryeong's hip, the other reaching up to cup her tear-wet cheek, and the look on her face is something none of them ever talk about afterward. Not smug. Not dominant. Just absolutely, devastatingly in love with this trembling girl falling apart on top of her.

"Keep going, baby girl," Ryujin says softly, her thumb tracing Chaeryeong's lower lip. "Mommy's got you. We've all got you."

Chaeryeong's fingers lace through Ryujin's on her own cheek, holding tight, anchoring herself, and her hips keep moving in that slow, deep, relentless rhythm.

Chaeryeong's rhythm eventually starts to change. What started as slow, careful rolls of her hips has turned into something deeper, more insistent, her body chasing pleasure on pure instinct now. She rises higher on each stroke, the thick shaft sliding out until only the tip stretches her open, glistening and obscene, before she drops back down with a wet, heavy impact that pushes a sound out of her lungs every single time. Her thighs flex against Ryujin's hips. Her stomach clenches tight. The tears on her cheeks have dried into salt tracks but fresh ones keep replacing them, spilling over her lashes each time a thrust hits deep enough to steal her breath.

"There you go," Ryujin murmurs from below, her hands framing Chaeryeong's waist, thumbs pressing into the soft give of her lower belly. She can feel the strap moving inside Chaeryeong through the thin wall of muscle, can feel the way her body opens and grips with each stroke, and the knowledge of it makes her own cunt throb against the base of the harness. "Getting greedy now. Taking it all the way down like you can't get enough."

Chaeryeong's nails rake down Ryujin's stomach, leaving pink lines on tanned skin. Her hips snap forward on the next downstroke and she gasps, loud, her pussy clenching so hard around the shaft that Ryujin can see the resistance in the way her body stutters. "It feels so good, mommy. It's so deep inside me."

"I know, baby. I can see it." Ryujin runs her palm up the flat plane of Chaeryeong's stomach and presses gently. "Right here. Can you feel that? Feel how full you are?"

Chaeryeong's hand covers Ryujin's, pressing down, and her eyes go wide when she feels the faintest pressure of the strap through her own belly. A fresh wave of heat rushes up her chest and throat, painting her blotchy and pink. She rides down harder.

Yuna lifts her mouth from Chaeryeong's breast, leaving the nipple swollen and red and shining with spit. She sits up on her knees beside Ryujin, one hand still between Chaeryeong's thighs, fingers slippery on her clit, and tilts her head, studying Chaeryeong's face with a grin that borders on cruel. "Look at you. You were so sweet earlier. Bringing water, checking if everyone was okay." She presses her fingers harder against Chaeryeong's clit and Chaeryeong jerks, a choked sound punching out of her. "Now you're bouncing on a cock crying your eyes out. It's kind of pathetic how fast you turned into this."

"Be nice," Chaeryeong breathes, but her hips grind down against Yuna's fingers even as she says it.

"I am being nice. If I wasn't being nice, I'd make you say what you really are." Yuna leans close, her lips brushing Chaeryeong's ear. "So what are you, Chaeryeong?"

Chaeryeong shakes her head. The blush on her cheeks darkens by two full shades and she bites her lip, refusing to meet anyone's eyes. Her hips keep moving, rising and falling on the strap in a rhythm that's getting more erratic, more desperate, her body betraying everything her mouth won't say.

Ryujin catches on instantly. She always does. Her hands tighten on Chaeryeong's waist and she holds her down on the full length, stopping her mid-stroke, buried to the hilt. Chaeryeong whines at being pinned, her hips trying to grind, trying to get friction, and Ryujin doesn't let her.

"Answer the question, baby girl."

"I don't..." Chaeryeong squirms on the shaft. Her pussy is fluttering around the thick silicone, clenching in rhythmic little pulses, and the wet sounds her body makes when she shifts are mortifying and undeniable. "Mommy, please let me move."

"Not until you tell us." Ryujin's tone is easy, cheerful almost, like they're playing a party game instead of pinning a crying girl on a cock. "Come on. You know the answer. Yuna asked you something."

Yeji shifts beside them. She's been quieter, pressing soft kisses along Chaeryeong's shoulder, her collarbone, the curve of her neck. Now she pulls back and cups Chaeryeong's jaw, turning her face gently until their eyes meet. "You can say it," Yeji tells her, and the tenderness in her expression somehow makes the whole thing filthier than anything Yuna could manage. "We all know already. We just want to hear it from that pretty mouth."

"Tell mommy what you are," Ryujin repeats from below. She rolls her hips upward, just once, a slow grind that pushes the strap against Chaeryeong's front wall, and Chaeryeong's whole body shudders, her eyes rolling, her lips trembling. "Say it and I'll let you ride as hard as you want."

Chaeryeong's resistance lasts approximately four more seconds. She looks down at Ryujin, at that smug, gorgeous, insufferable face staring up at her with total command, and something in her just snaps. The shyness peels away and what's underneath is raw and shameless and aching.

"I'm a slut," Chaeryeong says, and it comes out small and cracked and desperate.

"Louder," Yuna demands immediately. "Say the whole thing."

Chaeryeong's face burns. Her chest heaves. More tears spill over, running down her jaw, dripping onto Ryujin's stomach. "I'm a little slut."

"Whose slut?" Ryujin's hands release her waist. Permission granted.

Chaeryeong lifts her hips and slams back down, taking the full length in one savage stroke, and the moan that tears out of her is guttural, almost feral. "Mommy's. I'm mommy's little slut."

"And what does mommy's little slut love?" Yuna presses, her fingers flying on Chaeryeong's clit now, rubbing fast and mean.

Chaeryeong is bouncing on the strap so hard her breasts jump with every impact, tears streaming, face contorted in pleasure so intense it looks like agony. "I love mommy's cock. I love mommy's cock so much, I need it, I need it inside me all the time, please."

"Fuck," Ryujin breathes, and for once the composure cracks, real arousal bleeding through, her hips bucking up to meet Chaeryeong on the next downstroke. "Say that again."

"I'm mommy's little slut and I love your cock." Chaeryeong is gone now. Whatever wall she hides behind, whatever shy softness she carries through the rest of her life, it's demolished. She slams herself down on the strap over and over, grinding her clit against Yuna's fingers, riding with her entire body. "I love being full of it. I love when you watch me take it. I love being your dirty little slut, mommy, please, please don't stop."

"That's our girl," Yeji says against her throat, and sinks her teeth in gently, sucking a mark into the delicate skin below Chaeryeong's jaw. Her hand finds Chaeryeong's breast again, rolling the stiff nipple between her fingers, pinching just hard enough to make Chaeryeong gasp and clench.

Ryujin plants her feet flat on the mattress and starts thrusting up into Chaeryeong, matching her pace, meeting her halfway on every stroke. The collision of their bodies is loud and wet and relentless, the slap of skin against skin, the obscene squelch of Chaeryeong's soaked pussy swallowing the strap again and again. "Ride it harder. Show me how much you love it."

Chaeryeong braces both hands flat on Ryujin's chest and goes feral. There's no other description for it. She fucks herself on the strap with an abandon that makes her shy daytime persona feel like a different person entirely, her hips snapping forward and back, her ass slapping against Ryujin's thighs, her entire body rolling in fluid, desperate waves. She's soaking everything. The harness, Ryujin's thighs, the sheets beneath them, slick pooling and spreading with every thrust, running in shiny rivulets down the insides of her own legs.

"She's dripping everywhere," Yuna says, looking down at the mess between Ryujin's hips. "Absolutely ruining the sheets. You see this?"

Ryujin grins up at the ceiling. "I see it. I feel it. My nasty little baby making a mess on mommy's cock."

"I can't help it." Chaeryeong's hips stutter and her thighs start trembling violently, a tremor that runs deep into the muscle. "Mommy, something's... it's different, it feels different, it's too much."

Ryujin knows. She can feel the change, the way Chaeryeong's pussy is clenching erratically around the shaft, the way her whole body is tensing up in a pattern that's different from a normal orgasm. "Don't fight it. Whatever your body wants to do, you let it."

"But I think I'm going to..." Chaeryeong shakes her head, frantic, embarrassed even now, even in the middle of all this. "Mommy, I can't, it's too much, it's going to be a mess."

"I said don't fight it." Ryujin grabs Chaeryeong's hips and slams her down hard, grinding the strap against her front wall, pressing up into her with firm, relentless pressure. "Be mommy's good little slut and let go."

Yuna presses her thumb flat against Chaeryeong's clit and rubs in fast, tight circles. Yeji bites down on her nipple. Ryujin thrusts up into her one final time, deep and grinding and merciless.

Chaeryeong breaks apart.

Her back arches so sharply her shoulder blades nearly touch, her mouth opening in a silent scream, every muscle in her body locking rigid. Then the tension snaps. Her pussy clamps down and releases in a powerful, rhythmic spasm, and she gushes. Clear fluid spurts from around the shaft of the strap in hot, forceful pulses, splashing across Ryujin's stomach, soaking the harness, running down between Ryujin's thighs and pooling on the ruined sheets. She squirts again on the next contraction, harder, spraying Ryujin's chest, and Ryujin gasps at the warm flood hitting her skin, her eyes going wide and then bright with pure, feral satisfaction.

"Oh my god." Chaeryeong is sobbing, genuinely sobbing, her body jerking through wave after wave of it, each spasm forcing more fluid out of her, each contraction squeezing the strap so hard the harness tugs against Ryujin's hips. She tries to lift off, overwhelmed, and Ryujin holds her down by the waist, keeps the strap buried inside her, keeps her pinned through every last shuddering pulse.

"That's it, baby girl. That's it, let it all out. You're making such a mess on mommy. Such a filthy, perfect, beautiful mess."

Yuna is staring, openly staring, her fingers still pressed against Chaeryeong's twitching clit, slick coating her hand up to the wrist. "She's never done that before. Has she done that before?"

"No," Yeji says, and her composure is barely holding, her own thighs pressed tight together, her eyes dark and hungry. She pulls Chaeryeong against her chest, cradling her shaking body, holding her upright on Ryujin's cock as the last weak spasms roll through her. "Breathe, baby. Breathe. You did so well."

Chaeryeong collapses forward onto Ryujin's chest, boneless and wrecked and still trembling, her tears mixing with the slick mess spread across Ryujin's skin. Ryujin wraps both arms around her, pulling her tight, pressing her lips to the top of her head, to her wet cheek, to the corner of her trembling mouth. The strap is still inside her and every tiny aftershock makes Chaeryeong whimper and clench and shake.

Ryujin holds her there, one hand tangled in damp black hair, the other splayed across the small of her back, and looks over Chaeryeong's shoulder at Yuna and Yeji with the laziest, most satisfied grin any of them have ever seen on her face, her entire torso glistening and dripping.

Ryujin cups Chaeryeong's face in both hands and kisses her. Not hungry this time. Not commanding. Just slow and warm and impossibly tender, her lips soft against Chaeryeong's trembling mouth, tasting tears and sweat and the faint sweetness underneath. Chaeryeong melts into it, still shaking, still sniffling, her fingers curled against Ryujin's slick collarbone.

Then, from somewhere to the left, Yuna starts clapping.

Slow, deliberate claps. The kind you'd hear at a golf tournament. She's sitting cross-legged on the bed with her hands coming together in measured, theatrical applause, her face split into the most diabolical grin she's ever worn.

"She squirted," Yuna announces, like a sports commentator delivering breaking news. "She squirted! She squirted!"

Yeji, still flushed and loose-limbed from her own orgasm, presses her lips together trying not to laugh. She fails. A snort escapes through her nose and then she's clapping too, softer, more restrained (because she's Yeji), but clapping nonetheless. "She squirted."

"Oh my god, stop," Chaeryeong groans into Ryujin's chest, her entire body going rigid with embarrassment. She buries her face in the crook of Ryujin's neck, pulling her own hair forward like a curtain, trying to disappear. "Stop, please stop, I hate you both."

"Historical moment," Yuna continues, still clapping. "Unprecedented. Groundbreaking. We should mark the calendar."

"I'm going to kill you."

"You can barely move your legs right now, babe."

Chaeryeong's shoulders start shaking, and for a second it looks like she might actually cry again, but then a muffled, hiccupping laugh spills out against Ryujin's neck. Then another. Then she's laughing so hard she can't breathe, her forehead pressed against Ryujin's collarbone, her whole body quaking with it, and the laughter is contagious because Ryujin starts too, her chest vibrating beneath Chaeryeong, her arms wrapped tight around her shaking frame.

"You two are the worst," Chaeryeong manages between gasps, lifting her head just enough to glare at Yuna and Yeji through watery eyes and a grin she can't suppress. Her cheeks are so red they look sunburned. "The absolute worst."

Yuna blows her a kiss.

Ryujin presses one last kiss to Chaeryeong's damp forehead, lingers there, then gently lifts her by the hips. The strap slides out of Chaeryeong slowly, the thick silicone pulling free with a wet, slippery sound, and Chaeryeong winces at the emptiness, her thighs clenching together. Ryujin guides her off to the side, settles her against the pillows, tucks a strand of black hair behind her ear.

"Rest, baby girl. You earned it."

Chaeryeong curls onto her side, boneless and satisfied, her legs still trembling, and reaches for the nearest pillow to hug against her chest.

Then Ryujin turns to Yuna.

Something in the air shifts. Yuna is still sitting cross-legged, still grinning, still riding the high of tormenting Chaeryeong, and she doesn't notice the change in Ryujin's expression right away. But the narrator does. The smug, commanding energy that Ryujin has been wearing all night softens into something quieter. Something real. Her eyes travel over Yuna's face (the smudged mascara, the swollen lips, the wild black hair, all that fearless, infuriating beauty) and the look that settles there isn't dominance. It's just love. Simple, naked, unperforming love.

"Come here, princess."

Yuna blinks. The grin falters. Not because the word is unfamiliar but because of how Ryujin says it. No edge. No command. Just warmth, offered openly, the way Ryujin almost never does because vulnerability is the one boardroom she doesn't know how to run.

"Don't call me that," Yuna says automatically, but there's no bite in it. Just reflex.

"Come here."

Yuna unfolds her legs and moves toward her, and Ryujin catches her face in both hands the second she's close enough. The kiss is nothing like the ones before. Not sloppy and drunk. Not hard and controlling. Ryujin kisses Yuna like she's something precious, her lips moving slow and deliberate, her thumbs stroking the hinge of Yuna's jaw. Yuna makes a small, surprised sound against her mouth and her hands come up to grip Ryujin's wrists, not pulling them away, just holding on.

Ryujin deepens the kiss, tilting Yuna's head back, her tongue sliding against hers in long, lazy strokes, and Yuna's grip on her wrists tightens. Her whole body leans forward, pressing into Ryujin, the bratty armor thinning out with every passing second.

"Lie down for me," Ryujin murmurs against her lips.

Yuna doesn't argue. Doesn't smirk. Doesn't say "make me." She just lowers herself onto her back on the ruined sheets, her black hair spreading around her head, and looks up at Ryujin with an expression so open and unguarded it would make daytime Yuna want to crawl out of her own skin.

Ryujin settles between her legs, lowering her body until they're pressed together from chest to hip, the strap resting heavy against Yuna's inner thigh. She braces one forearm beside Yuna's head, her other hand reaching down to position the tip against Yuna's entrance, and pauses there. Their noses touch. Ryujin's hair falls around them like a curtain, black silk mixing with Yuna's on the pillow.

"Hi," Ryujin whispers.

Yuna's lips twitch. "Hi."

"You good?"

"Yeah." Barely audible. "I'm good."

Ryujin pushes inside her. Slow. Inch by inch. No teasing, no power play. Just the gradual, stretching fullness of the strap opening her up, and Yuna's breath catches, her back lifting slightly off the mattress, her hands finding Ryujin's shoulders and holding tight. Their foreheads press together. Ryujin bottoms out and stays there, their hips flush, the full length buried inside Yuna, and neither of them moves for a long moment. Just breathing. Just feeling it.

Then Ryujin starts rocking her hips, shallow and rolling, and Yuna's eyes flutter shut.

"Look at me," Ryujin says, soft. Not a command this time. A request.

Yuna opens her eyes. They're shining.

"There she is." Ryujin smiles, and it's the unguarded one, the real one, the smile that the boardroom and the press and the rest of the world never get to see. She rolls her hips again, deeper, and Yuna's lips part on a soundless exhale. "There's my girl."

The rhythm they find is languid, unhurried, nothing like the hard fucking Ryujin gave Yeji or the desperate riding Chaeryeong did. This is bodies moving together, Ryujin's hips rolling forward and Yuna's rising to meet them, the strap sliding in and out in long, fluid strokes. Their stomachs press together. Their breasts press together. Every thrust is a full-body thing, skin dragging against skin, warmth building between them.

Yuna giggles. Quiet, almost incredulous. "This is so different from how you fucked Yeji."

"Yeji needed to get out of her head." Ryujin dips down and kisses the corner of Yuna's mouth. "You need something else."

"What do I need?"

Ryujin doesn't answer with language. She answers by pressing deeper, grinding her hips in a slow circle, her nose brushing Yuna's, her lips ghosting across her cheek, her jaw, the spot below her ear. Yuna's legs wrap around her waist and pull her closer, her ankles crossing at the small of Ryujin's back.

"I love you," Ryujin says, and the simplicity of it is what makes it land. No buildup. No grand gesture. Just three syllables pressed into the space between their mouths while she's buried inside Yuna, their bodies rocking together in the dim light of a wrecked bedroom. "I love you so much. I love all of you. You, Yeji, Chaeryeong. All of it. Everything."

Yuna's face crumbles. The brat, the attitude, the armor, all of it just falls away, and what's left is a twenty-something-year-old girl who loves someone so much it terrifies her. Her hands slide from Ryujin's shoulders to her face, cupping her jaw, pulling her into a kiss that tastes like salt because Yuna is crying, silently, tears running from the corners of her eyes into her hair.

"I love you too," Yuna whispers against Ryujin's mouth, and her grip on Ryujin's face tightens. "I love you, you stupid, irresponsible, beautiful idiot. I love you so much."

Ryujin laughs, wet and thick, and kisses Yuna's tears, one cheek then the other. "So romantic."

"Shut up and fuck me."

"There she is."

Ryujin picks up the pace, her thrusts getting longer and firmer, her hips snapping forward with more intent now, and Yuna arches beneath her, nails raking down her back, legs tightening around her waist. They're still close enough that their breath mingles, Ryujin's forehead pressed against Yuna's, their noses bumping with each thrust.

"Mommy," Yuna breathes, and the defiance is stripped from it entirely. Pure need. Pure trust. "Mommy, right there. Don't stop."

"Never." Ryujin rolls her hips at the same angle, hitting the same spot, steady and relentless. "Not stopping. I've got you, princess."

Meanwhile, at the other end of the bed, something equally devastating has been unfolding.

It started when Chaeryeong stopped hugging her pillow and reached for Yeji instead, her fingers trailing along Yeji's bare thigh, and Yeji turned toward her with dark, hungry eyes that hadn't been satisfied by one orgasm no matter how intense it was. Chaeryeong kissed her first (soft, questioning, still tasting like Ryujin) and Yeji kissed her back with a ferocity that made Chaeryeong gasp into her mouth. Hands moved. Legs tangled. Yeji pulled Chaeryeong onto her lap, then shifted, adjusted, and now they're locked together in a position that's as old as sapphic sex itself.

Yeji is on her back, one leg threaded between Chaeryeong's, the other hiked up over Chaeryeong's hip. Their pussies are pressed flush together, swollen and soaked, sliding against each other as Chaeryeong rolls her hips. The wet, slippery friction of clit against clit is sending electricity through both of them, Yeji's head tipped back against the pillows, Chaeryeong braced over her with both hands on the mattress, grinding with a focus that contradicts the boneless girl who was sobbing on Ryujin's chest five minutes ago.

"Harder," Yeji pants, her fingers digging into Chaeryeong's ass, pulling her closer, pressing their centers together with more force. "Right there, baby, don't change anything."

Chaeryeong adjusts her angle, tilting her hips so their clits line up perfectly on the next stroke, and both of them moan at the same time. Yeji's back arches off the bed. Chaeryeong drops to her elbows, bringing their faces close, and Yeji surges up to kiss her, sloppy and desperate, all tongue and teeth and shared breath.

The bed is a symphony of wet sounds and gasped names and creaking springs. Two separate rhythms playing at once: Ryujin's steady, deep thrusts into Yuna on one end, Chaeryeong's grinding rolls against Yeji on the other. Four bodies in motion, four sets of lungs working overtime, four different flavors of pleasure building toward the same inevitable peak.

Yuna's legs are shaking around Ryujin's waist, her nails leaving welts down her back. "Mommy, I'm close. I'm so close. Please don't stop, please, I'm right there."

"I know you are." Ryujin drives into her faster, harder, their bodies slapping together, her mouth pressed against Yuna's ear. "I can feel you squeezing. Cum for me, baby. Cum on mommy's cock."

Across the bed, Yeji's rhythm is faltering, her hips jerking erratically as the pressure between her legs builds to something unbearable. "Chaeryeong, I'm close, I'm so close, please."

Chaeryeong grinds down hard, her clit sliding against Yeji's in fast, tight strokes, her own orgasm coiling low and hot in her belly. "Me too. Together. Please, together."

It happens almost simultaneously, like dominoes falling.

Yuna breaks first, by half a second, her entire body seizing beneath Ryujin, her pussy clamping around the strap in vicious, rhythmic pulses, a strangled cry tearing from her throat as she arches off the mattress so hard only her shoulders and heels touch the bed. Ryujin fucks her through it, deep and unrelenting, and Yuna's nails draw blood down her back in eight thin red lines.

Then Yeji. Her hips snap upward against Chaeryeong and lock, trembling, every muscle in her body going taut as the orgasm rips through her. Her mouth opens in a soundless gasp, her fingers bruising Chaeryeong's hips, her clit throbbing against Chaeryeong's in hot, pulsing waves.

Chaeryeong follows a breath later, pulled over the edge by the feel of Yeji convulsing beneath her, by the sounds of Yuna falling apart across the bed, by the obscene, beautiful chaos of all of them shattering at once. She comes grinding down on Yeji's pussy, her whole body curling forward, burying her face in Yeji's neck, her thighs clenching tight, wet heat flooding the space between their bodies.

For a long, suspended moment, nobody moves. Nobody speaks. There's just breathing, ragged and uneven, the sound of four heartbeats gradually slowing down, the distant hum of the city beyond the windows.

Ryujin collapses onto Yuna, careful to keep most of her weight on her elbows, the strap still buried inside her. She presses her lips to Yuna's damp temple. Yuna's arms wrap around her neck and hold on like she's never planning to let go.

Chaeryeong melts onto Yeji's chest, their legs still tangled, their slick centers still pressed together, aftershocks rippling through both of them in diminishing waves. Yeji's hand finds the back of Chaeryeong's head and strokes through her damp hair, over and over, a rhythm as steady and soothing as a heartbeat.

They stay like that for a few minutes, together, just catching their breath. But there is still something to be done before they even consider sleeping.

It's Yeji who says it first, because of course it is. She lifts her head from the pillow, blonde hair matted and wild, and looks at Ryujin sprawled between them with the harness still buckled around her hips, the strap glistening, her chest rising and falling, a lazy, satisfied smile plastered across her face. Yeji knows that expression. It's the "I just made everyone cum and now I'm going to fall asleep without getting mine" expression. She's seen it a hundred times. Not tonight.

"You haven't finished," Yeji states.

Ryujin waves a hand. "I'm fine."

"You're not fine. You're deflecting."

"I'm basking. Let me bask."

Yuna props herself up on the other side, still flushed and trembling from her own orgasm, tear tracks drying on her cheeks. She exchanges a look with Yeji over Ryujin's body. It's the rare look of complete, unanimous agreement between two people who usually agree on nothing.

"She always does this," Yuna says. "Gets everyone else off and then acts like she doesn't need it."

Chaeryeong stirs from Yeji's chest, blinking, still hazy. "That's not fair, though."

"It's not fair at all." Yuna sits up fully, her black hair tumbling around her shoulders. "She just made all three of us cum and she's lying there like she's about to check her email."

"I'm not checking my email." Ryujin closes her eyes and laces her fingers behind her head, every line of her body radiating contentment she doesn't actually feel. (The narrator would like to note that Ryujin's nipples are still hard, her inner thighs are still slick, and her clit has been grinding against the base of that harness for the better part of an hour without relief. She is not fine. She is suffering and pretending otherwise because admitting she needs something from the people she's supposed to take care of is the one vulnerability she hasn't figured out how to perform.) "Seriously, girls. I'm good. Come lie down."

"No," all three of them say at the same time, and Ryujin's eyes snap open.

Yeji is already moving. Her fingers find the buckle of the harness at Ryujin's left hip and start working it loose with the same efficient focus she brings to everything, from reorganizing Ryujin's calendar to taking apart her composure. "Lift up."

"Yeji."

"Lift. Up."

Ryujin lifts her hips, more out of surprise than compliance, and Yeji strips the harness down her legs in one smooth pull. The strap comes free, heavy and wet, and Yeji passes it behind her without looking. Yuna catches it.

And the grin that spreads across Yuna's face is so immediate, so predatory, so thoroughly delighted that even Chaeryeong laughs.

"Oh no," Ryujin says from the bed, watching Yuna hold the harness up and examine it like she just inherited the crown jewels. "No no no. Yuna. Put that down."

"Absolutely not." Yuna is already stepping into the harness, pulling it up her legs, adjusting the straps with a competence that suggests she's studied how Ryujin does it more carefully than she'd ever admit. The black leather settles against her hips and she tightens the buckles, one side then the other, and the thick silicone cock juts out from her pelvis, still coated in the combined slick of three different women. She wraps her hand around it, gives it a slow stroke, and looks down at Ryujin with an expression of pure, uncut triumph. "My turn."

"This isn't how this works," Ryujin protests, pushing up on her elbows.

Chaeryeong puts a hand flat on Ryujin's sternum and pushes her back down. Gently but firmly. "Tonight it is."

Ryujin looks at Chaeryeong in disbelief. Chaeryeong, her baby girl, her sweet little clinger, the one who can barely say "slut" without blushing, just pushed her down onto a bed. Chaeryeong meets her gaze and doesn't flinch. There's a new steadiness in those dark eyes, something that getting fucked senseless and squirting all over your girlfriend apparently activates.

"Lie down, mommy," Chaeryeong says, and the word "mommy" in that soft, earnest tone combined with the command underneath it does something to Ryujin's brain that she'll be processing for weeks.

Yeji takes Ryujin's left hand and pins it against the mattress, lacing their fingers together, her grip firm and warm. Chaeryeong mirrors her on the right side, her smaller hand wrapping around Ryujin's wrist, pressing it into the sheets. They're not restraining her. Not really. Ryujin could break free in a second. But the symbolism of it, her girls on either side, holding her down, keeping her still, while Yuna kneels between her spread legs with a cock strapped to her hips... Ryujin's breath comes faster.

"You three planned this," Ryujin accuses, but there's no real fight left in it. Her body is betraying her. Her thighs have fallen open without her permission, her hips keep shifting against the sheets, and the cool air of the bedroom against her soaking, exposed cunt is making her clench around nothing.

"We didn't plan anything." Yuna settles between Ryujin's legs and runs her palms up the insides of her thighs, pushing them wider. "This is totally spontaneous teamwork. We're just that good."

Ryujin huffs a laugh that turns into a sharp intake of breath when Yuna drags the head of the strap through her folds, nudging through the slick heat, bumping against her swollen clit. Her hips jerk involuntarily and her fingers tighten around Yeji's and Chaeryeong's hands.

"Fuck, you're wet," Yuna says, genuinely impressed. She tilts the shaft and runs it along the length of Ryujin's slit again, slow and teasing, coating the head in fresh slick. "Like, embarrassingly wet. Were you this turned on the entire time you were fucking us?"

"Shut up, Yuna."

"That's my line." Yuna positions the tip at Ryujin's entrance and holds it there, pressing just enough to part her, to stretch the first fraction without entering. "Ask nicely."

Ryujin's jaw clenches. "I don't ask."

"Tonight you do." Yuna presses forward the tiniest bit more and Ryujin's whole body tenses, her abs flexing, her thighs trembling on either side of Yuna's hips. "Say please."

The standoff lasts about four seconds. Ryujin looks up at Yuna's face, at the bratty smirk she knows better than her own reflection, and something in her chest loosens. Lets go. Stops performing.

"Please," Ryujin whispers.

Yuna's smirk softens into something realer. She leans forward, lowers her body over Ryujin's, and pushes inside her in one long, steady stroke.

Ryujin's back arches off the mattress. Her mouth falls open, a ragged moan spilling out, and her hands crush Yeji's and Chaeryeong's in a grip that turns both their knuckles white. The strap fills her completely, stretching her open around the thick girth, and she feels every inch of it because she's been aching for this, throbbing for this, and the relief of finally being full is so intense her vision blurs.

"Oh god," Ryujin gasps, and her legs wrap around Yuna's waist instinctively, pulling her deeper. "Oh fuck."

Yuna bottoms out, their hips flush, and holds still for a moment. She's draped over Ryujin's body, their breasts pressed together, their faces inches apart. "Hi, mommy."

Ryujin lets out a breathless laugh. "Hi, brat."

"How's it feel?"

"Move and I'll tell you."

Yuna starts rolling her hips, slow, finding a rhythm that's surprisingly tender for someone who spent the first half of the night picking fights. Long, deep strokes that pull the shaft almost all the way out before gliding back in, their bodies rocking together, noses touching on each forward thrust. Ryujin's eyelids flutter and her lips part, these small, helpless sounds leaking out with every stroke that she'd never in a million years let anyone outside this room hear.

"There you go," Yuna murmurs against her mouth, and kisses her. Soft. Sweet. The kind of kiss Yuna pretends she doesn't know how to give. "Just feel it. Stop thinking."

Ryujin kisses her back, messy and hungry, her tongue sliding against Yuna's, and moans into her mouth when a particularly deep thrust hits something electric inside her.

On her left, Yeji lowers her mouth to Ryujin's breast. She takes the nipple gently between her lips and sucks, slow and warm, her tongue painting circles around the stiff peak. Her free hand stays laced with Ryujin's, squeezing every time Ryujin squeezes, a feedback loop of pressure and reassurance. Yeji worships this breast the way she worships everything about Ryujin: thoroughly, devotedly, with the focus of someone who considers this an act of love rather than foreplay.

On her right, Chaeryeong mirrors her. But Chaeryeong's mouth is hungrier, needier, her lips latching onto Ryujin's nipple with a suction that makes Ryujin's spine bow. She flicks her tongue fast across the sensitive tip, then bites down gently, and Ryujin gasps sharply, her hand twisting in Chaeryeong's grip.

"Fuck," Ryujin chokes out, her head pressing back into the pillow. Two mouths on her breasts and a cock inside her and hands holding her down and she can't touch anyone, can't control anything, can't direct or orchestrate or manage. She can only lie there and take it. "Fuck, that's so much."

"Too much?" Yeji asks against her breast, her tongue never stopping.

"No. Don't stop. Don't any of you stop."

Yuna picks up the pace. Her hips snap forward harder, the wet slap of skin filling the room, and she braces one hand beside Ryujin's head, the other gripping her thigh, spreading her wider. "You always take care of us," Yuna says between thrusts, her breath coming fast, sweat beading on her forehead. "Let us take care of you for once."

"I don't need—"

"Yes, you do." Yuna drives in deep and grinds, her pelvis pressing against Ryujin's clit, and Ryujin's protest dies in a strangled moan. "You need this. You need us. Stop pretending you don't."

Ryujin's eyes sting. Not from pain. From the terrifying accuracy of being known completely by someone she can't bullshit. She blinks rapidly, her throat working, and Yeji's grip on her hand tightens.

"We've got you," Yeji says softly against her breast. "Let go."

Chaeryeong lifts her mouth from Ryujin's nipple long enough to press a kiss to her ribs, right over her heart. "You're so beautiful, mommy. You always make us feel so good. Let us make you feel good."

Ryujin makes a sound that's close to a sob and closer to a laugh and pulls Yuna down by the back of her neck, kissing her fiercely, desperately, pouring everything she's too proud to say into the press of her mouth. Yuna meets her with equal force, kissing her back while her hips piston between Ryujin's thighs, the strap driving into her over and over in a relentless, building cadence.

The tension coils low and tight in Ryujin's belly. She can feel it gathering, that specific, tightening heat that means she's close, and for once she doesn't try to redirect or postpone or turn the focus back onto someone else. She lets it build. Lets Yuna fuck it out of her. Lets Yeji's tender mouth and Chaeryeong's greedy one pull sensation from her breasts straight down to her clenching core.

"I'm close," Ryujin admits, and the vulnerability in those two syllables costs her more than closing any deal ever has. "I'm really close, baby."

"Good." Yuna adjusts her angle, hitching Ryujin's leg higher on her hip, and the next thrust drives the head of the strap directly against her g-spot. Ryujin's entire body convulses. "Give it to me. Cum for me, mommy."

Yeji sucks harder on her nipple. Chaeryeong bites down on the other one. Yuna fucks into her with everything she has, fast and deep and punishing, their bodies slamming together so hard the headboard cracks against the wall.

Ryujin shatters.

It hits her like a wall. Her back bows off the mattress, every muscle in her body locking rigid, and her eyes roll back until only the whites show. Her pussy clamps down around the strap in crushing, rhythmic contractions, her thighs shaking violently around Yuna's hips, and the moan that rips out of her is deep and guttural and raw, torn from somewhere primal she keeps locked up behind boardroom smiles and confident smirks. Her hands crush Yeji's and Chaeryeong's so hard both of them wince, her nails digging crescents into their palms, and her hips buck upward into Yuna's thrusts, riding the orgasm in helpless, jerking spasms.

"That's it," Yuna breathes above her, still moving, slower now, drawing out every aftershock. "That's my girl. That's our girl."

Yeji releases her nipple and presses her forehead against Ryujin's shoulder, her own eyes wet, her lips moving against Ryujin's skin in soft, inaudible repetitions that might be "I love you" or might be nothing at all. Chaeryeong clings to Ryujin's hand like a lifeline and peppers kisses across her heaving chest, her collarbone, the hammering pulse in her throat.

Ryujin's eyes roll forward, glassy and unfocused, and she blinks at the ceiling like she's forgotten where she is. Her body keeps twitching, little aftershocks rippling through her abs and thighs, the strap still buried inside her, Yuna still pressed against her from chest to hip.

"Holy shit," Ryujin manages eventually, her voice wrecked and barely functional. She unlaces her fingers from Yeji's and Chaeryeong's and brings both hands to her own face, covering her eyes, her chest heaving. "Holy shit."

Yuna pulls out gently and collapses beside her, unbuckling the harness one-handed and kicking it off the edge of the bed. She curls into Ryujin's side, one leg thrown over her thigh, her face nuzzling into her neck.

Ryujin drops her hands from her face. Her eyes are bright, raw, stripped of every layer she usually wears. She looks at the three women draped around her, at Yeji's blonde head on her shoulder, at Chaeryeong's fingers tracing her ribs, at Yuna's smug, satisfied grin pressed against her throat, and her chest rises in one long, unsteady breath.