#winter x reader

Minjeong nearly leaves her body. She spins around so fast her hair whips across her face, grabs your wrist with both hands, and yanks you down to her level with a strength that should not exist in someone her size. Her eyes are wide, panicked, absolutely unhinged.

"Shut up," she hisses, pulling you behind the fern. "Shut up shut up shut up. She's right there."

You stumble forward, catching yourself on the wall. "Ow. What the hell, Minjeong?"

Minjeong jabs her finger down the hallway. You follow the direction and see a girl standing in front of an apartment door about six units down. She's got her back partially turned, one hand holding a tote bag while the other digs around inside a small leather purse. Even from this angle and this distance, you can tell she's gorgeous. Dark hair spilling past her shoulders, a cream-colored blouse tucked into a pleated skirt that stops well above the knee.

"That's her," Minjeong whispers. "Ning Yizhuo. The new neighbor."

"Okay. And?"

"And?" Minjeong stares at you like you just asked her what oxygen is. "And she's right there. In the hallway. Where I also am. At the same time."

"That's generally how hallways work."

"You don't understand." Minjeong shakes her head rapidly. "I can't let her see me. Not like this. I was waiting for you, I heard footsteps, I opened my door and she was already out here, and I just," she gestures at the plant pot, "improvised."

You look at the plant pot. You look at Minjeong, a grown woman in nothing but an oversized shirt, hiding behind fake foliage in a well-lit public corridor.

"This is the worst improvisation I've ever seen."

"Shut up."

"You don't even fit behind this thing. Your whole left shoulder is sticking out."

"I said shut up." She tugs on your sleeve again. "Look at her. Look at that skirt. Are you looking?"

You glance back down the hallway. The girl, Ning Yizhuo, apparently, shifts her weight from one foot to the other while she searches for her keys, and the movement makes the pleated skirt sway against her thighs.

"Yeah, she's hot. So go talk to her."

“Are you out of your FUCKING mind?" she whispers sharply.

"It's 2026, Minjeong. Lesbians have some privileges now. You can say hi to a pretty girl without being burned at the stake."

"I can't just go talk to her."

"You literally can. You walk over there, you open your mouth, and you say hey, I live in 69, nice to meet you."

"No. No no no no." She's shaking her head so hard her hair whips back and forth. "She's too beautiful. She's too perfect. Every time I see her I forget how to be a person. The first time I greeted her, I said 'day nice you'. Last week she smiled at me in the lobby and I walked into a glass door. A glass door. In front of her. She watched me do it."

"Jesus Christ."

"I'm in love with her and she thinks I'm brain damaged."

You open your mouth to respond, but then something shifts in the hallway. Ning has stopped digging through her purse. She's looking up. She's looking your way.

Minjeong suddenly drops flat onto her stomach behind the plant, and judging by the noise, it definitely hurt.

You're still half-standing, fully visible, and now there's a very pretty girl staring directly at you from twenty feet away with a slightly confused expression on her face.

"Hi?" Ning calls out. She takes a small step forward, tilting her head. Her face is even prettier up close. Round cheeks, full lips, a little furrow between her brows that somehow makes her look both concerned and adorable. "Are you lost?"

"No," you say, straightening up and trying to look like a normal human being who was not just crouching behind a plant with a half-naked girl. "I'm visiting a friend. Apartment 69. You know if she's home?"

Ning's expression softens. "Oh, the girl in 69? I don't know, honestly. I don't see her very often." Behind the pot, Minjeong clenches her jaw so hard you can almost hear her teeth creak. "She seems nice, though. Quiet. Try your luck, I guess."

"Thanks. I will."

Ning gives you a small wave and a smile that, yeah, okay, you understand why Minjeong is losing her entire mind. It's a very good smile. Warm and a little bit shy.

"Bye," Ning says, and then she finds her keys, unlocks her door, and disappears inside.

The hallway goes quiet. You count to three. "She's gone."

Minjeong rises from behind the pot like a vampire emerging from a coffin. Her face is bright red. Her shirt has ridden up on one side, exposing the curve of her hip, and she doesn't even notice. She just stands there, staring at Ning's closed door, mouth slightly open. You grab her arm and steer her toward apartment 69. She lets you. She's basically on autopilot at this point, shuffling along beside you in bare feet, still looking over her shoulder.

The second you're both inside and the door clicks shut behind you, she leans against the wall and slides down until she's sitting on the floor. "I'm a loser."

"Yep."

"A complete loser."

"The most pathetic dom I've ever met." You kick off your shoes and step past her into the apartment, placing your jacket on the arm of the sofa. It's messy in the way Minjeong's place is always messy, not dirty, just chaotic; a hoodie draped over a chair, three half-empty water bottles on the coffee table, her laptop open on the couch with what you suspect is Ning's Instagram still loaded on the screen. "You can choke me out and make me call you mommy but you can't say hi to a girl in a skirt."

"Shut up."

"You said that already."

"Then shut up again." She pulls her knees up to her chest. The shirt rides higher. She's definitely not wearing anything underneath it, and frankly, you already knew that because this is how it works with you two. She knew you were coming over. She was ready. And then Ning happened and now she's sitting on her own floor having an existential crisis instead of riding your face like she planned.

"Are you horny?" you ask.

She looks up at you with the most offended expression ever. "Of course I'm horny, idiot. I was standing meters away from her. I could smell her perfume. I'm soaked."

"Great. Take it out on me. That's what I'm here for."

That flush on her neck deepens, crawls up to her cheeks, and the corner of her mouth curls into something that isn't quite a smile. It's more like a switch being flipped. One second she's a puddle of useless gay panic on the floor, and the next she's looking at you the way she looks at you when she wants to break you apart.

"Yeah," she says, and just like that, there she is: The Kim Minjeong who knows exactly what she wants and exactly how to take it. "That is a great idea."

This is the thing about your arrangement with Kim Minjeong: you've been fucking for about eight months now, no strings, no feelings, just a mutually beneficial deal that started at a house party where she got drunk, told you she needed someone to use when she was stressed, and you said sure, because you're a simple man with simple needs and she's objectively one of the hottest women you've ever met. No romance. Never has been.

You keep calling her a lesbian, though she’s technically bi – she just prefers women every time. Men are just recreational, tools for her pleasure (and you’re no exception).

She's a dom through and through. With women, she's terrifying. Commanding, controlled, but with you, the dynamic bends. She tops, sure, most of the time, but there's a flexibility to it. A give and take. She likes that you can pick her up. She likes that you push back, that you don't just fold the second she gives an order. She'll never admit it, but sometimes she wants to be the one getting thrown around, and you're the only person she trusts enough to let that happen.

Dom with girls. A bratty little thing with you (when she feels like it).

You don't give her time to get up on her own. You close the distance in two steps, bend down, and scoop her off the floor. She yelps as you throw her over your shoulder like a sack of rice. Her bare thighs press against the side of your face and her fists smack against your back.

"Put me down! I'm the dom here. You can't just manhandle me."

"You're only a dom with other girls." You adjust your grip on her legs, one hand firm on the back of her thigh, the other settled on her lower back, and start walking toward the bedroom. "With me, you're still a submissive little slut."

"Only sometimes," she fires back, but she's laughing, her body shaking against your shoulder, that yelp of surprise already dissolving into breathless giggles that she's trying (and failing) to suppress. Her fingers grab onto the back of your shirt for balance. "This is so undignified. I'm supposed to be intimidating."

"You were hiding behind a plant pot thirty seconds ago. The intimidation ship has sailed."

"I will kill you."

"After I make you cum, maybe."

She smacks the back of your head playfully.

You carry her into the bedroom and throw her onto the mattress. She bounces once, twice, hair splaying out around her head, shirt bunched up around her waist. You were right. Nothing underneath. Just Minjeong, flushed and bare from the waist down, propped up on her elbows, looking at you with that dangerous half-smile that means she's already deciding how she wants this to go.

"What a gentleman," she says, spreading her legs just slightly wider against the sheets.

You pull your shirt over your head and toss it somewhere behind you and then you're climbing onto the bed, climbing onto her, one knee between her thighs and both hands planted on either side of her head.

Minjeong watches you the whole time. That half-smile still there, lazy and sharp at the same time, her eyes tracking you as you settle your weight over her. She doesn't move to take control. Not yet. She just lies there with her hair fanned out on the pillow and that stupid oversized shirt bunched around her ribs, bare from the waist down, waiting.

You kiss her. She smiles against your mouth. You can feel the curve of it, the way her lips pull tight before they soften and open for you. Her hand comes up to the back of your neck, nails dragging lightly through the hair there, and she tilts her chin up to press closer. It's slow. Familiar. You've done this enough times to know exactly how Minjeong kisses when she's wound up (desperate, messy, like she's trying to crawl inside you) versus how she kisses when she's settling in (languid, teasing, every movement calculated). This is somewhere in between. She's keyed up from the hallway but trying to play it cool, and you can feel the tension in her jaw, the way her fingers grip just a little too hard on your neck.

You drop your mouth to her throat. Her pulse hammers against your lips. You drag a slow kiss along the tendon there, down to the junction of her neck and shoulder, and that's where you find it. A faded bruise, yellowish-purple at the edges, right above her collarbone. Your work from last Tuesday.

"Still got it," you murmur against the mark.

"It takes forever to fade on me. I've been wearing turtlenecks like a catholic school teacher."

You press your lips to the hickey, then to her jaw, then to the corner of her mouth, then to her cheek. You pause there. Pull back just enough to look at her.

Kim Minjeong's face is something else. It really is. The bone structure alone is borderline unfair. But up close like this, with her hair messy and her cheeks flushed and her pupils blown wide, there's a softness to her that the sharpness can't hide. Long lashes. Lips bitten pink. She looks, in this moment, genuinely cute. Sweet, even. Innocent. And nobody in the world would guess that this girl has a strap-on collection organized by size in her closet and once made you edge for forty-five minutes while she ate a sandwich.

Your hand slides down. Over the bunched-up shirt, across the flat plane of her stomach, past the dip of her navel. She doesn't flinch, doesn't tense. Just watches you with those dark eyes, lips slightly parted, breathing steady but shallow. Your fingers trail through the thin strip of trimmed hair between her legs and then lower, and the second you make contact, the truth of her situation becomes very, very clear.

She's not just wet. She's slick. Swollen. Her lips are puffy against your fingertips, flushed and hot, and when you drag two fingers through the length of her slit you can feel the slickness coat your skin in a single pass. Eight months of sleeping with this girl and you know what each level of turned on feels like, and this is top tier. This is "I stood three feet from my crush and smelled her perfume and now my brain is soup" levels of arousal.

You press your mouth back to hers. Her tongue meets yours immediately, sliding warm and slow, and you keep your hand where it is, fingers resting against her, not entering, not pressing, just there.

"I love seeing you like this," you say between kisses, your lips brushing hers with every syllable. "All silly. All lovestruck. It's hard to even recognize you."

"Fuck off."

"Seriously. You're like a different person. The girl who sat on my face last week and told me I wasn't allowed to breathe until she finished would never hide behind a plant pot."

"You don't understand." She bites your lower lip, not gently. "Ning doesn't just mess with me. She messes with me on a cellular level. Like, my DNA rearranges when she's nearby. I become a different organism."

"That's the most dramatic thing you've ever said, and you once cried because a girl at a bar had pretty collarbones."

"She did have pretty collarbones." Minjeong shifts her hips, pressing herself against your still-motionless fingers. "And I didn't cry. My eyes watered."

She pushes against your chest. Not hard, but with intent, and you know this cue well enough to roll with it. You let her flip the position, your back hitting the mattress, and she's on her side next to you in an instant. But she doesn't climb on top of you. Doesn't straddle you. Instead, she twists around toward the nightstand, reaching for her phone.

"What are you doing?"

"Making you understand."

Her free hand finds your waistband. She tugs your pants down with a single efficient yank, underwear included, because Minjeong has never had patience for steps. Your cock springs free, already hard. She wraps her fingers around the base without even looking, thumb pressed against the underside, grip firm and familiar. Then she settles beside you, shoulder pressed to yours, and holds the phone up so you can both see the screen.

Ning's Instagram. Already open. Already loaded.

"Have you just... had this open? The whole time?"

"Don't worry about it." She scrolls up with her thumb. The grid fills with photos, and even in tiny square thumbnails you can tell this girl knows what she's doing with a camera. "Look. Everyone thinks she's this sweet little shy thing. And yeah, on the surface, sure. She posts these cute little aesthetic shots, coffee cups, sunsets, book stacks. But then."

She taps on a photo. It loads full-screen.

Ning, sitting on a windowsill, sunlight hitting her from behind. She's wearing a white tank top and shorts, legs crossed, chin tilted up. The light makes the tank top just translucent enough to show the shadow of her bra underneath. Her expression is serene. Very innocent.

"See? See that? She knows exactly what she's doing with that angle." Minjeong's hand starts moving on your cock. Slow, steady strokes, her grip twisting slightly at the head the way she knows you like. Her eyes don't leave the phone screen. "And this one." She swipes. New photo. Ning at what looks like a rooftop bar, leaning forward on a railing, wearing a low-cut top that compresses her tits together into a line of cleavage that is impossible not to look at. She's laughing at something off-camera, completely natural, completely devastating. "She posted this at eleven PM on a Wednesday," Minjeong says, her thumb swiping again, her other hand maintaining that maddening rhythm on your shaft. "Eleven PM. On a Wednesday. Who posts cleavage at eleven PM on a Wednesday?"

"Someone who looks good and wants people to know."

"Exactly. She's not innocent. She's a little slut who likes showing off. And everyone in her comments is like oh so pretty queen gorgeous and she replies with little heart emojis like she isn't fully aware that she's making people lose their minds."

She swipes again. And again. A photo of Ning at the beach in a bikini, a selfie where she's biting her lower lip and looking directly into the lens. A gym photo (sports bra, leggings, glistening with sweat, the absolute audacity of this woman). Each one, Minjeong narrates like she's giving a museum tour of her own personal torment.

Then she stops scrolling. Taps on one photo. Holds the phone closer. This one is different.

Ning took it with the phone behind her, catching the reflection in a full-length mirror. She's standing in what looks like her bedroom. She's wearing a dress. Tight. Short. White fabric that clings to every curve, hemline barely reaching mid-thigh. But that's not the part that makes your cock twitch in Minjeong's hand. It's the fabric itself. Slightly sheer. Just enough that you can make out, underneath the dress, the outline of her underwear. The faint color difference where the material thins over her ass. And her ass, in this photo, is the absolute center of gravity. Round. Full. The exactly kind of shape that the dress was designed to showcase, every inch hugged tight.

Minjeong's grip tightens on you. Her strokes get slower. She's savoring both the image and your reaction simultaneously.

"Look at that," she murmurs. "Look at her ass. It's so round. So tight. Do you see how the dress barely holds it? And those panties showing through, she knew. She absolutely knew when she put that dress on."

"Yeah," you manage, because her thumb is doing something truly unfair to the head of your cock right now.

"I think about this photo at least three times a day. Minimum. I've zoomed in. I've screenshotted it. I'm not proud of any of this."

"You shouldn't be."

"But look at it." She tilts the screen again, like you somehow missed it. "That's my neighbor. That ass is twenty feet from my front door at any given time. That ass takes out the trash. That ass rides the elevator. That ass exists in the same building as me and I haven't touched it and I might actually die from that fact."

You turn your head to look at her. Her cheeks are red. Her lips are wet. Her hand hasn't stopped moving. "So what are you gonna do about it?"

Her strokes falter for half a second, that same panicked expression from the hallway, the one that turns her from a confident dom into a disaster lesbian in zero-point-five seconds flat. Then she recovers, keeps stroking, and lets out a long exhale through her nose. "Nothing. Yet."

"I honestly expected a little more confidence from you."

"I need courage! I need time. I need to figure out if she even likes girls, and I need to do that without accidentally liking one of her posts from 2024 at four AM, which, yes, has almost happened."

"God, you're hopeless."

"I know." She swipes back to the mirror photo. Stares at it. Her hand squeezes your cock, slow and tight. "For now I can only fantasize about her. About what I'd do if she let me. What she'd sound like. What she'd look like underneath all those little outfits." She locks the phone and drops it on the mattress. Turns her head to look at you. "But I've got you for now." Her hand twists on the upstroke. "So let me use you until I figure the rest out.”

“I'm all yours, babe.”

Minjeong smiles at that, then lets go of your cock and grabs the hem of her shirt and peels it off in one smooth motion, tossing it behind her. It lands somewhere on the floor, probably on top of your shirt, and now there's nothing between the two of you.

You've seen her naked plenty of times. Eight months of this arrangement means the novelty of nudity itself wore off around month two. But Minjeong's body is still something worth looking at, and you let yourself look while she shifts on the bed, swinging one leg over your hips to straddle you. She's small. That's the thing that always catches you off guard, every single time, the sheer smallness of her. Narrow shoulders, a waist you can almost span with both hands, ribs you can count when she arches her back.

Her tits are on the smaller side, firm and round, nipples already stiff, small rosy peaks, puffy and firm. Her stomach is flat, tight, the faint outline of muscle there not from any disciplined gym routine but from the kind of lean genetics that some people luck into. Her hip bones jut out just slightly, two subtle ridges that frame the space between her legs like brackets.

She's tiny. She's maybe a hundred and ten pounds soaking wet. And she runs your entire sex life with an iron fist.

Minjeong settles her weight on your hips, her bare pussy pressing flat against the length of your cock. She's so wet that you can feel it immediately, hot slickness spreading against your shaft, coating the underside as she shifts her hips in a slow experimental grind. Her thighs tense on either side of you. She reaches down, wraps her fingers around your cock, lifts herself up just enough to position you, and then she sinks.

It's one fluid motion. No teasing, no hesitation, just Minjeong dropping her hips and taking you to the base in a single stroke. Her pussy swallows you whole, tight and soaked and burning hot, inner walls clenching around you as her weight settles into your lap. Her eyes flutter shut for half a second, lips pressing together, and then she exhales slowly through her nose and opens her eyes again.

She looks down at you. And gives you the most mischievous fucking smile you've ever seen on a human face.

It's the kind of expression that shouldn't be legal on someone this small, this cute, this outwardly innocent-looking. Her eyes are narrowed into pleased little crescents. She knows she looks good up there. She knows the visual of her tiny frame perched on top of you, back straight, shoulders back, every compact inch of her on display, is doing exactly what it's supposed to do to your brain.

Then she starts to move. Lazy rolls of her hips, grinding more than bouncing, working her clit against your pelvic bone with each forward push. You reach up and touch her face. Your thumb traces along her cheekbone, down to the corner of her mouth, and she turns her head just enough to catch it between her lips. Sucks it in to the first knuckle, tongue swirling around the pad, cheeks hollowing slightly. Her eyes stay locked on yours the whole time, still rolling her hips in that maddening rhythm.

She lets your thumb go with a soft sound and settles into a steady pace. Her pussy clenches around you every time she pushes forward, that grinding motion spreading her slick all over the base of your cock, making everything obscenely wet.

"So," you say, resting both hands on her thighs, "how was your day?"

"Fine. It was a good day, actually."

"Tell me more."

"Worked until like four. Nothing crazy, just emails and a presentation that nobody's going to read." She punctuates this with a particularly firm grind, her clit dragging hard against you, and her eyelids flutter. "Then I came home and played Burnout Revenge."

"The racing game?"

"PS2 classic. I'm running it through an emulator with upscaling to 4K. The textures hold up surprisingly well, actually. The crash physics are still unmatched in the genre, and at higher resolution you can really appreciate the particle effects during takedowns."

"That was extremely specific. Anything else?"

She bites her lip. The rhythm of her hips hasn't faltered once during this entire conversation, steady and practiced, she could probably fuck you and file her taxes at the same time. "And, obviously, I kept gooning to Ning."

"Obviously."

"The usual routine. Went through her tagged photos. Found a TikTok where she's doing that stretching trend. Watched it nine times. Locked my phone. Unlocked it. Watched it four more times." She rolls her hips in a tight circle that makes your fingers dig into her thighs. "Came twice thinking about her sitting on my face. Showered. Then you texted."

"So your evening was: vintage racing games, cyberstalking, and masturbating."

"Don't judge me."

"I'm not judging. Just a goonette living her best life. Gotta respect it."

She leans forward, planting her hands on your chest again, and the angle shifts. Now she's bouncing, lifting her hips until just the tip stays inside and dropping back down with a wet slap of skin. Her tits sway with the motion small enough that it's more of a jiggle, barely there, but you watch it anyway because she's gorgeous. Her stomach flexes with each rise and fall. The muscles in her thighs work visibly under her skin.

"She posted a story today," Minjeong continues, slightly breathless now but still committed to the conversation. "Just a mirror selfie. Gym clothes. Sports bra and those tiny shorts. You could see the outline of her..."

"Her what?"

"Her pussy." Minjeong says it like she's confessing a mortal sin. "Through the shorts. Just the shape. The seam was sitting right between her lips and I almost threw my phone across the room."

"You're unwell."

"I'm aware." She sits up straight and grinds down hard, taking you as deep as possible, and her jaw goes tight for a second. Her cunt is soaked, absolutely drenched, and every movement makes a slick, filthy sound that fills the space between sentences. "I screenshot it. I have it saved in a separate album. With the other forty-seven screenshots."

"Forty-seven."

"Don't start."

You slide your hands up from her thighs to her waist, gripping that narrow frame, thumbs pressing into the soft skin below her ribs. She feels impossibly small in your hands, fragile almost, and the dissonance between that and the way she's currently milking your cock with practiced efficiency is something you'll never fully get used to.

She plants her palms flat on your abs and picks up the pace. Faster now, less grinding and more fucking, her hips snapping down with intent. Her pussy is clenching in uneven pulses, tight enough that you can feel every ridge of her, every slick fold gripping your shaft on the outstroke. A strand of her black hair sticks to her forehead with sweat. Her cheeks are flushed dark pink.

"Ning. Tell me what you'd do if you had her. All of it."

That glassy, faraway look sharpens into focus, and the corner of her mouth twitches upward. She leans down, chest pressing against yours, and kisses you, her lips brush yours when she talks. "You want to hear it?"

"Every detail."

She rolls her hips once, grinding your cock against her front wall, and exhales warm against your mouth. "Okay. So first, I'd take my time. I wouldn't rush her." Her hips find a rhythm again, slow circular grinds, keeping you deep while she talks. You thrust up to meet her, a steady push from below, and her breath hitches before she continues. "I'd get her on this bed. Right here. And I'd just kiss her for a while. Like, actually kiss her. I want to know what her mouth tastes like. I want to learn the shape of her lips with mine." She kisses you again, brief, punctuating the thought. "Then I'd undress her. Slowly. I'd take that little skirt off first and just look at her legs. Run my hands up her thighs. Feel how soft she is."

"Romantic."

"Shut up, I'm getting there." She grinds down harder, her clit catching against your pelvic bone, and her jaw tightens for a second before she keeps going. "I'd kiss down her neck. Her collarbones. I'd pull her bra off and put my mouth on her tits. She's got perfect tits, you saw the photos. I'd suck on her nipples until she's squirming and pulling my hair."

You thrust up into her, firm and steady, and she gasps against your lips. Her pussy clenches around you, soaked and tight, and you feel her arousal running down your shaft onto your thighs. She's dripping.

"Then I'd go lower. Kiss her stomach. Bite her hip bones. And when I finally got between her legs..." Minjeong's breathing is heavier now, her hips grinding with more urgency. "I'd make her wait. I'd kiss the insides of her thighs. Breathe on her pussy without touching it. Let her feel how close my mouth is. She'd be begging by then."

"You think?"

"I know. She'd be grabbing the sheets and whining and pushing her hips up, trying to get my mouth on her." Minjeong bites your lower lip, tugging gently. "And I'd look up at her and say, 'Ask nicely.' And she would. She'd say please in that sweet little tone and I'd finally put my tongue on her clit and she'd lose her fucking mind."

You grip her hips and pull her down onto the next thrust, burying yourself to the hilt, and she moans against your mouth. A shaky, breathy thing that she immediately tries to talk over.

"I'd eat her pussy until she came on my face. I'd drink every drop." Her fingers curl against your chest, nails pressing crescents into your skin. "And then I wouldn't stop. I'd keep going. She'd be sensitive and twitching and trying to close her legs but I'd hold her open and keep licking until she came again."

"That's just foreplay?"

"That's just the beginning." Minjeong sits up slightly, just enough to change the angle, and sinks back down with a wet sound that echoes in the room. Her pussy grips you impossibly tight as she adjusts. "After that, I'd flip her over. Get her on her hands and knees. And I'd take my time looking at her from behind. That ass, spread open for me, her pussy swollen and wet and dripping down her thighs."

She's riding you harder now, the tempo picking up. Her thighs flex against your sides with each stroke, her abs clenching as she grinds forward. You match her rhythm from below, fucking up into her.

"I'd spit on her pussy." She says it right against your lips, no hesitation. "I'd watch it drip down. Then I'd finger her. Two fingers, deep, curling right against that spot. I'd finger-fuck her until her arms gave out and she collapsed face-first into the pillow."

"And the strap?"

Her eyes light up. Literally brighten, like you just said the magic word. "The strap! Oh, I'd make her earn the strap. She'd have to suck it first. Get on her knees in front of me and take it in her throat. Get it nice and wet while looking up at me. And I'd hold her hair and tell her she's a good girl."

She kisses you again, messy and open, all tongue and shared breath. When she breaks away, a thin string of saliva connects your lips for a second before it breaks. "Then I'd fuck her. Start slow. Let her feel every inch going in. And then I'd grab her hips and rail her until she screamed. I'd pull her hair and smack her ass and call her my little whore and she'd love it, she'd take it so well, she'd push back onto me begging for more."

You thrust up hard enough to make her yelp. She recovers instantly, grinding down, chasing the friction against her clit with desperate, needy movements.

"But here's the thing. That's all just the beginning. The real plan is bigger."

"Bigger how?"

"I'm going to turn her into a pet."

"A pet?”

"A kitten." She says it with absolute conviction. "I'm going to slowly, methodically, lovingly transform Ning into my personal kitten." She grinds down on you, rotating her hips in a tight circle that makes your toes curl, and keeps talking like she's not currently fucking you into the mattress. "I still have that collar. The one with the little bell. I bought it over a year ago and never used it because I never found the right person." Her pussy clenches around your cock, rhythmic, pulsing. "Ning is the right person. I'm going to put that collar around her pretty neck and hear that little bell jingle every time she moves. Every time she crawls to me."

"Crawls."

"On her hands and knees. Like a good kitten." She licks her lips. "First, the collar. Let her get used to wearing it. Sleep in it. Feel it against her throat all day and think about who it belongs to. About who she belongs to."

Your hands slide up her thighs, gripping her waist as you keep thrusting into her from below. She's dripping down your shaft, her arousal coating the insides of her thighs, making everything slippery and filthy.

"Then the ears. Cute little cat ears on a headband. She'd wear them when she comes over. Take off her shoes at the door and put on her ears and become my kitten." Minjeong's riding is getting erratic, less controlled, her body chasing something. "And finally... the tail."

"Tail?"

"Anal plug. With a tail attached. Long, fluffy, the kind that sways when she walks." Her eyes are glazed, dark, gone somewhere deep inside her own fantasy. "She'd wear all three. Collar with the bell. Ears. Tail. And she'd kneel at my feet and purr while I pet her hair and tell her she's the prettiest kitten in the whole world."

She drops her forehead against yours, breathing hard, her hips slamming down onto you with increasing desperation.

"A slow metamorphosis," she pants. "Step by step. From the sweet neighbor into my perfect little pet. Exactly like Kafka."

That makes you pause mid-thrust. "Kafka?"

"The Metamorphosis. Gregor Samsa wakes up transformed. Ning's transformation is just more... intentional. Guided. Consensual."

"I really don't think Kafka's book is about pet play, Minjeong."

She sits up, still riding you, still grinding, her pussy clenching in those telltale uneven spasms that mean she's getting close, and gives you a look of genuine academic offense.

"It doesn't matter. Let me tell you a secret about art: once a work is published, it no longer belongs to the author. It belongs to the public. And the public draws its own interpretation." She punctuates this with a hard grind that nearly makes you choke. "A work of art depends on its creator to be born, but once it's finished, its existence no longer depends on the creator. Barthes wrote about this. The death of the author."

"You’re pushing this concept to another level."

“If there are two things I take seriously, it’s literature and smut." Her thighs are shaking now, trembling visibly, and her rhythm is falling apart. She's close and trying to hold the conversation together through sheer stubbornness. "So yes. I'm going to give Ning a metamorphosis. A beautiful, filthy, calculated metamorphosis. From girl to kitten."

You grab her hips and pull her down hard, thrusting up into her, and her composure cracks. Her head drops back, her nails rake down your chest, and her pussy clamps around you like a fist. "Well," you manage, "better a kitten than an insect, I guess."

She laughs (or tries to, it comes out strangled and thin) and then you grab her thighs and flip her. One smooth motion, you've done this enough times to know how she folds, and suddenly she's on her back beneath you, black hair splayed across the pillow, legs wrapped around your waist, looking up at you with glassy, unfocused eyes and a mouth that won't stop running.

You slide back into her and she arches off the mattress. "Keep talking," you tell her, setting a deep, steady pace. "Tell me where I fit in."

Her arms loop around your neck, pulling you close, her lips brushing against your ear while you fuck her. "You'd be there. When I have her. I'd make you fuck her while I watch."

"Yeah?"

"On her back. Legs spread. I'd hold them open for you and watch your cock slide into her pretty little cunt." She clenches around you, hard, her heels digging into the small of your back. "I'd tell you how fast to go. When to stop. When to keep going. She'd look at me the whole time, begging me with those big eyes, and I'd just pet her hair and tell her to take it."

You pound into her harder and she gasps, fingernails raking down your shoulders.

"And when I'm done watching, I'd climb over her face and sit on it. Make her eat me out while you fuck her." Her hips are rocking up to meet every thrust, her pussy so wet you can hear it with every stroke, slick and obscene. "And I'd cum on her. I'd squirt all over her gorgeous face and her neck and her tits and she'd be dripping with it, covered in me, and she'd fucking love it."

"What about me?"

Her legs tighten around you. She's trembling, her whole body vibrating with tension, and her sentences are coming out fragmented, breathless. "You'd pull out of her pussy and jerk off on her face. All of it. Every drop. I want to see her pretty face painted with your cum. And then I'd lean down and lick it all off. Every streak. From her forehead to her chin. And I'd kiss her and push it into her mouth and she'd swallow it and thank me."

You drive into her deep, grinding, and her back arches so hard only her shoulders and hips are touching the mattress. "We'd take turns. I'd fuck her with the strap until she's screaming and then hand her to you. You'd fuck her throat until she's gagging and then give her back to me. Back and forth. Like she's ours. Our little toy. Our perfect little..."

Her sentence dies. Her mouth opens in a silent gasp, eyes squeezing shut, and you feel it before she says anything. Her pussy locks down around your cock in rhythmic, convulsive pulses, tight enough to make you grit your teeth. Her thighs clamp against your ribs. Her nails break skin on your shoulders. Her whole body goes rigid, suspended, every muscle drawn taut like a wire.

Then she breaks. The orgasm tears through her in waves. She shakes underneath you, her hips bucking upward, riding it out on your cock while incoherent sounds spill from her throat. Not moans, not screams, something between the two. Raw, guttural, the sound of someone who's been edging herself mentally for weeks on fantasies about her neighbor and finally found the right release valve). Her pussy flutters and grips and releases and grips again, milking your shaft in spasms that you feel all the way to the base of your spine.

You don't stop. You fuck her through it, pace relentless, chasing your own finish now. She's boneless beneath you, still twitching through aftershocks, oversensitive and whimpering every time you bottom out. Her hands slide weakly down your arms, grip failing, body completely spent.

It hits you thirty seconds later. That tight coil in your gut snaps and you pull out just in time, fist around your shaft, pumping hard. The first rope lands across her stomach, thick and hot against her skin. The second catches her ribs. The third drips between her tits, pooling in the dip of her sternum. She watches the whole thing with heavy-lidded eyes and a lazy, satisfied smile, her fingers trailing through the mess on her stomach, smearing it across her skin like lotion. "I love that," she murmurs. "I love feeling it land on me."

You collapse next to her. Both of you are breathing like you just finished a sprint. Minjeong stares at the ceiling, chest rising and falling, your cum drying on her skin in streaks.

"That was good," she says eventually.

"Yeah."

Silence for a few seconds. Comfortable. Then you roll your head to look at her.

"Take a quick shower."

She frowns. "Why the urgency?"

"Because while you're in there, I'm going to invite Ning over."

Minjeong sits up so fast she almost headbutts you. "Like, now? Right now?!"

"Right now."

"I'm not prepared. I don't know what to do. I don't know what to say. I have cum on my stomach. My hair is a disaster. I haven't mentally rehearsed any conversation starters. I don't even have snacks."

“Shower. Fix your hair. Put on something cute. I'll handle the rest."

She stares at you with the wide, panicked eyes of someone who's just been told their execution has been moved up. "What are you going to say to her?"

You shrug. "I'll improvise."

"That's the worst possible answer you could have given me!"

"Shower. Now. Go."

She goes. Reluctantly, trailing protests down the hallway, but she goes. You hear the bathroom door close, then the water start. You give yourself sixty seconds to pull your pants on, check your hair in the hallway mirror, and walk out of apartment 69.

Apartment 71 is right there. Two doors down. You knock. Footsteps. A pause (probably checking the peephole). Then the door swings open, and there's Ning.

She's changed since the hallway encounter. The skirt is gone, replaced by fitted jeans and a black blouse that you immediately cannot stop noticing. It's sheer. Not fully transparent, but enough that the dark outline of her bra is visible underneath and her hair is down, slightly wavy, framing that face.

"Oh, hi! You're the guy from earlier." She leans against the doorframe, smiling. "Did you find your friend?"

"I did, yeah. She was home."

"Good." Ning tilts her head. "So what's up?"

"Okay, this might sound random, but Minjeong and I ended up buying way too many drinks and it seems stupid for just two people to go through all of it. You want to come over? Just casual, hanging out, nothing weird."

Ning's eyebrows lift. "Minjeong invited me?"

"Basically, yeah."

"That's... huh." She crosses her arms, but not defensively. More like she's processing. "I thought she didn't like me very much, honestly. I always got the feeling she was avoiding me. Like, every time I see her in the hallway she kind of... disappears?"

You almost laugh. "No, she's just shy. Genuinely. She's one of those people who comes across as distant but really she's just terrible at starting conversations."

"Really?"

"Really. She actually thinks you're super nice. Talks about you a lot." (Understatement of the century.) "She'd love to get to know you better, she just doesn't know how to make the first move."

Ning's smile shifts. Wider, softer, and there's a pink flush creeping up her neck that she probably doesn't realize you can see. "That's actually really sweet. I've been wanting to talk to her too, I just didn't want to bother her if she wasn't interested."

"Trust me. She's interested."

Ning tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, glances back into her apartment for a second and then looks back at you. "Yeah, okay. Let me grab my phone. Give me like two minutes."

"Take your time. Apartment 69, whenever you're ready."

She grins. "Be right there."

You lean against the wall outside apartment 71, hands in your pockets, waiting. Through the open door you can hear Ning moving around inside (a drawer opening, something falling, a muttered "where did I put it"). She reappears thirty seconds later, phone in hand, slipping on a pair of white sneakers by the door.

"Ready," she announces, pulling the door shut behind her.

You walk her the ten steps to apartment 69. It's not a long journey. Ning could have done it alone. But you're the wingman tonight, and wingmen escort. You push the door open and step aside to let her in first. She crosses the threshold at the exact moment Minjeong rounds the corner from the hallway, freshly showered, hair still slightly damp at the ends, wearing a cropped tank top and the shortest pair of cotton shorts you've ever seen on a human being. Her legs look freshly moisturized. She smells like peach body wash from three meters away.

She sees Ning.

Ning sees her.

Minjeong’s expression glitches in real time. Shock. Panic. A vacant reboot stare. And finally, a smile pulled so tight it looks less like happiness and more like muscle strain.

"Hi," Ning says brightly, giving a small wave. "I hope it's okay that I came over. Your friend said you guys had too many drinks?"

Minjeong's eyes slide to you. There is murder in them. Pure, concentrated, premeditated murder. Then she looks back at Ning and the strained smile returns. "Yeah. Totally. So many drinks. Come in."

You close the door and head straight for the kitchen. "Let me check what we're working with." You open Minjeong's refrigerator. The interior is depressingly sparse (condiments, leftover rice in a container, half a lemon wrapped in plastic, and three cans of beer lined up on the bottom shelf). "We have a total of... three beers."

You grab all three, carry them to the living room, and distribute one to each person. Ning takes hers, looks at the single can in her hand, then looks at you.

"I thought you said there were too many?"

"Three beers is way too much for two people... if you don't think about it."

Ning considers this logic. Decides not to challenge it. Cracks her can open.

The three of you sit on the couch. Minjeong on one end, Ning on the other, you in the middle like a human buffer zone. Complete silence. You can hear the refrigerator humming in the kitchen. Somewhere outside, a car alarm goes off and stops. Minjeong takes a sip of beer. Ning takes a sip of beer. You take a sip of beer.

"Is that TV new?" you ask Minjeong, gesturing at the wall.

She follows your gesture. Stares at the blank wall. Looks back at you. "There's no TV there."

"Oh. You're right. My bad."

More silence. Ning clears her throat. "This beer is good," she offers. "It's really... cold."

"I like cold beer," you say.

"Me too," Minjeong adds. "Water as well. And soda. Anything cold. I like cold liquids in general."

You have never in your life wanted to leave a room more than you do right now.

"So," Ning says, turning slightly to face both of you, "how did you two meet?"

"Mutual friends," you say at the same time Minjeong says "Mutual friends." You glance at each other. At least you're synchronized on the cover story. The real story involves a house party, four shots of tequila, and Minjeong whispering something in your ear so filthy you nearly choked on an ice cube. But Ning doesn't need that information right now.

"That's nice," Ning says. "I don't really know anyone in the building yet. I moved here about three weeks ago."

"Where from?" you ask.

"Across town. I chose this place because it's closer to the university."

"Cool," Minjeong says. Then nothing.

This isn't going anywhere. The conversation has the energy of a dentist's waiting room. Ning is being polite, Minjeong is buffering, and you're running out of observations about temperature-sensitive beverages.

Time to go nuclear.

You stand up. "I'm going to grab something from the fridge." You take one step, then turn back toward Ning as if you just remembered something: "Oh, by the way, Minjeong thinks you're very, very, very beautiful. Isn't that great?"

You don't wait for the reaction. You hear Minjeong hiss behind you (something that sounds a lot like "I'm going to fucking kill you"), but you're already walking to the kitchen with a grin so wide it hurts your face. You open the refrigerator and start rummaging, slowly, giving them all the time they need.

From the living room, silence. After a moment, Ning finally asks, softly: “Is that true?”

You can practically hear Minjeong's heartbeat from here. A pause. A long one. Then her answer, quiet and unsteady: "Well. If you like hearing it, it's true. If you don't like hearing it, then he's a liar and I'll fight him."

Ning laughs. Warm and sweet, not polite. "I like hearing it, don't worry."

Another pause. You move a jar of pickles aside, pretending to search for something.

"Then it's true," she says, softer than you’ve ever heard.

"I'm not going to let you panic alone." That's Ning. Closer now. "I think you're beautiful too. And mysterious. Every time I see you in the hallway you vanish before I can say anything and I've been wanting to actually get to know you properly for a while."

"I've wanted to get to know you properly too." Minjeong's breathing is audible even from the kitchen. "Your whole body, too." Dead silence. "I mean. That's. I didn't. That came out wrong! I meant your whole personality. Your whole person. Not your body specifically. Not that there's anything wrong with your body, your body is... I'm going to stop talking now."

"It's fine."

"I'm so sorry. God, I’m so pathetic. The second I’m around a pretty girl, my brain just shuts off.”

"Minjeong." Ning murmurs, tender and sure. "I said it's fine. Actually, I'd really like that."

You're still crouched in front of the refrigerator, not even pretending to look anymore, just listening. Then your eyes land on something wedged behind the leftover rice. Chocolate. A full bar, dark, still in the wrapper. You grab it, stand up, close the fridge.

You turn around.

On the couch, Ning has one hand on Minjeong's cheek. Minjeong's fingers are tangled in Ning's hair. Their mouths are pressed together, Ning tilting her head to deepen the angle while Minjeong pulls her closer by the waist. Ning's lips part and Minjeong leans in, and the kiss turns from tentative into something unhurried and real.

You stand there holding a chocolate bar, mouth slightly open.

"Okay. Damn." You look down at the chocolate, then back at the couch. "That was fucking fast."

Neither of them hears you. Minjeong's hand slides from Ning's waist to the small of her back, and Ning melts into her like she's been waiting three weeks for exactly this. You take a bite of chocolate and lean against the kitchen counter to watch, because honestly, you earned this.

Minjeong has shifted from sitting beside Ning to climbing onto her lap, knees bracketing Ning's thighs, hands cupping her face. The kiss has evolved past tentative and into something hungry, Minjeong tilting Ning's chin up with her thumb, licking into her mouth, rolling her hips in these tiny, unconscious movements against Ning's legs. Ning's hands hover at Minjeong's, then finally settle there, fingers gripping the hem of the tank top.

They've completely forgotten you exist. You take another bite of chocolate.

Then Ning's eyes drift open mid-kiss and catch you standing in the kitchen doorway, casually eating a snack. She breaks away from Minjeong's mouth, lips swollen and pink, looking slightly dazed.

"What about your friend?"

Minjeong glances over her shoulder at you, then back at Ning. She doesn't climb off her lap. Instead, she settles more comfortably, running her fingers through Ning's hair.

"So, the thing is: he and I are fuck buddies."

"Oh.” It's the only sound that comes out of Ning's mouth.

"We have sex together. Like, quite often. It's a whole arrangement."

"Oh."

"And I was wondering if maybe you'd want to join us tonight? Like, I don't know. It'll be fun."

"I'm sorry, join you as in..."

"As in exactly what you're thinking."

Ning lets out a short, startled laugh. "Minjeong. We just kissed for the first time like two minutes ago."

"I know."

"And you're already asking me to have a threesome with you and your friend."

"I know how it sounds. It is insane. One hundred percent. I won't argue with that." Minjeong's thumb traces small circles on Ning's hip, her gaze steady even though her ears are turning red. "But I'd be lying if I said I haven't thought about it. A lot. Like, an embarrassing amount."

"You've thought about this. This specifically."

"You, me, him. In very explicit detail. Multiple times. For weeks." Minjeong swallows but doesn't look away. "Since you moved in, basically. I've had whole scenarios in my head that I'm not going to describe right now because you'd never look at me the same way again."

"That's... I don't even know what to say to that."

"You can say no. It's completely fine. We'll pretend I never said anything and just go back to kissing on the couch and I'll die of embarrassment quietly on my own time."

"No, it's not that. It's just." Ning glances at you again. You keep your face perfectly neutral. Switzerland. "This is a lot. I barely know either of you."

"I get that."

Ning chews the inside of her cheek. She's fidgeting with the hem of her top, twisting the fabric between her fingers. "Can I be honest about something?"

"Please."

"I find it really, really hot that you've been thinking about that."

Minjeong is going to die. You can see it happening, the superhuman effort required to keep her expression at calm and cool when every atom of her being is screaming. Ning covers her face with one hand, speaking through her fingers. "And it's so embarrassing to admit this but I've always wanted to try it. A threesome. Like, always. It's been on my list forever and I never had the opportunity or the nerve and now you're just casually offering it to me on a random weeknight and I..."

"You have a list?"

"Shut up, everyone has a list." Ning drops her hand. Her face is burning but her eyes are bright. "It's so kinky. It's so filthy. I can't believe I'm actually considering this."

"You're considering it?"

"I'm past considering it." She exhales, something reckless and electric settling into her expression. "Okay. Yeah. Okay. Before I lose my nerve and go back to my apartment and scream into a pillow for three hours about what I almost did."

Minjeong takes her hand. "Come see my room.”

The three of you file down the hallway. Minjeong pushes the bedroom door open and Ning steps in, her eyes sweeping the space. It's relatively tidy (Minjeong cleaned up most of the evidence), but a few things are still out. A bottle of lube on the nightstand. A silicone vibrator resting casually on the dresser like a paperweight. A harness draped over the back of a chair.

Ning stares at the harness, then at the vibrator, then at Minjeong.

You lean close to Ning's ear. "These are just the ones she left out. The whole arsenal is in the drawers."

"Drawers," Ning repeats faintly. "Plural."

"Top one is straps. Middle is accessories. Bottom is stuff she won't tell me about."

Minjeong shoots you a look but doesn't deny it. She perches on the edge of the bed, legs crossed, and pats the sheets beside her. "Sorry, the bed's a little messy. We were, um. He and I were having sex before you came over."

"Seriously?"

"Yes," you confirm, stepping closer. "In fact, we were having sex and thinking about you."

Ning's lips part. Her eyes go wide, bouncing between the two of you. "About me?"

"Minjeong came thinking about you." You say it plainly. "She talks about you constantly. She's been stalking your Instagram for weeks. Those photos you post, the ones in the tight dresses? She has a whole saved folder."

"Forty-seven screenshots," Minjeong adds quietly, apparently deciding that full transparency is the move now.

"Forty-seven," Ning echoes.

You guide Ning gently by the shoulders until she's sitting on Minjeong's lap, facing outward, her back against Minjeong's chest. Minjeong's arms wrap around her waist instinctively, chin resting on her shoulder.

"Minjeong is a certified perv, you’re her newest subject of observation,” you continue. "She hid behind a plant in the hallway tonight because you were wearing a skirt and she couldn't handle it."

"The plant," Ning says, something clicking. "I thought I saw someone crouching by that fern."

"That was her."

Minjeong groans into Ning's shoulder.

You don't waste time and lean down to kiss Ning. Soft, exploratory, tasting the beer on her lips, and she kisses you back without hesitation. Behind her, Minjeong holds her steady, fingers spreading across Ning's stomach. Ning pulls back, slightly dazed. "Having two people wanting me like this. Thinking about me like that. It's... it's messing with my head."

Minjeong's lips find her ear. You don't hear the whispers, but you know exactly what she's saying. Ning's breath hitches. Her thighs press together. Her eyes flutter shut. While Minjeong murmurs, you kneel down and untie Ning's sneakers, pulling them off one at a time. Then her jeans (button, zipper, easing the denim down her legs while she lifts her hips to help). Her blouse goes next, Minjeong helping from behind, and then she's sitting there in a black lace bra and matching panties, skin warm and flushed, goosebumps rising along her arms.

"Look at you," Minjeong breathes, running her palms over Ning's bare shoulders. She presses her lips there, a trail of kisses across the curve. "These shoulders. So broad. So pretty." She kisses the junction of her neck. "Your skin is so soft."

Ning shivers. You pull your shirt off. Take off your shoes. Unbuckle your belt. Ning watches, her blush deepening, a nervous little laugh escaping her when your pants hit the floor. "A guy and a girl at the same time. Wow."

"Get used to it," Minjeong murmurs against her neck. "I have a feeling you're going to get addicted."

You're down to your underwear now. You lean in and kiss Ning again, your tongue sliding against hers. Behind her, Minjeong's mouth works along Ning's neck, sucking gently, and Ning melts between the two of you. Trapped. Surrounded. Four hands roaming her body (yours tracing her collarbone, her ribs, the dip of her waist; Minjeong's sliding up her stomach, thumbs brushing the underside of her bra). Then Minjeong turns Ning's chin and the three of you meet in the middle, all tongue, breath and wet contact, mouths overlapping in a messy, three-way kiss that falls apart into smiles and reconnects again.

Minjeong taps Ning's hip. "Move up for me."

She shifts to the center of the bed, pulling Ning with her, and lays her down against the pillows. Ning's hair fans out dark against the white sheets. Minjeong reaches behind Ning's back and unclasps her bra with one hand, sliding it off her arms. Then her panties, peeled down slowly, Ning lifting her hips again, and then she's completely bare.

Minjeong stares, her gaze traveling down Ning's body with worship and hunger simultaneously. "You're so beautiful. Fuck, you're even more perfect than I imagined."

Minjeong pulls her own tank top off in one fluid motion. The shorts follow, kicked off the edge of the bed. No underwear (of course). She kneels beside Ning, fully naked, and reaches down between her own legs. Her fingers spread her pussy open, showing Ning. Swollen, pink, glistening wet, her clit hard and visible.

"See this? This is what you do to me. I've been like this since you walked in the door." She holds herself open, letting Ning look. "You have to take responsibility."

Ning's eyes are fixed between Minjeong's thighs. Her tongue darts across her lower lip. "I'll do anything."

"Lie flat for me." Ning obeys. Flat on her back, arms at her sides, chest rising and falling rapidly.

Minjeong swings one leg over Ning's head and settles her knees on either side. “If you want me to stop, tap my thigh twice,” Minjeong tells her. Ning nods in agreement. She lowers herself slowly, her wet pussy hovering inches above Ning's mouth, thighs framing that perfect face. Ning's hands come up to grip Minjeong's hips, pulling her down, and then her mouth is on her. Minjeong's breath punches out of her chest. Her spine straightens. Her fingers find the headboard for balance.

You settle between Ning's spread legs, lying on your stomach, and lower your mouth to her cunt. She's soaked, thoroughly, completely soaked, her inner thighs already slick. You drag your tongue flat from her entrance to her clit and she moans directly into Minjeong's pussy, the vibration making Minjeong gasp above her.

Minjeong is facing you, looking directly down the length of Ning's trembling body and into your eyes while you eat her out. Her pupils are blown wide. Her lips are parted. She rolls her hips against Ning's tongue and watches you work between those gorgeous thighs.

Ning's tongue drags flat against Minjeong's slit, tentative at first, tasting her, learning the landscape. You watch it happen from between Ning's thighs. Minjeong's face shifts from composed to fractured in a single breath, her grip on the headboard tightening, knuckles going pale. She exhales through her nose, slow and controlled, trying to hold her composure the way she always does when something feels too good too fast.

"Slower," Minjeong instructs, settling her weight down just a fraction more. "Take your time with me."

Ning adjusts. Her tongue narrows, tracing the outer edges of Minjeong's lips in long, patient strokes, avoiding the clit entirely, teasing without knowing she's teasing. Or maybe she does know. Her fingers grip Minjeong's thighs for purchase, thumbs dimpling the soft skin.

You lower your mouth back to Ning's cunt, deliciously wet now, her arousal smeared across her inner thighs, her lips swollen and flushed dark pink. You flatten your tongue against her clit and hold there, just pressure, no movement, letting her feel the heat of your mouth. Her hips twitch upward. You pull back an inch. She whines into Minjeong's pussy, and the vibration makes Minjeong's spine curve.

"She's good at this," Minjeong murmurs, more to herself than to you. Her hips roll forward, a slow grind against Ning's mouth, coating her chin, her cheeks. "Such a good mouth. Such a pretty, eager little mouth."

You circle Ning's clit with the tip of your tongue. Tight circles, building sensation, then you pull away completely. Kiss her inner thigh instead. Ning's legs tremble. Her hips chase your mouth and find nothing.

That's the game. You've played it before with Minjeong (she taught you, actually, during one of those early sessions where she sat you down and explained exactly how she wanted to be tortured). Build the pressure. Take it away. Build it higher. Take it away again. Make the body so desperate for release that when it finally comes, it breaks something. Ning is already responding to it. Every time you return to her clit, she's more sensitive, more reactive. Her thighs shake when your lips close around the swollen bud. Her hips buck when you suck gently. And every reaction feeds directly into Minjeong through her mouth, because Ning can't separate what she's receiving from what she's giving.

Minjeong grinds down harder. The restraint is gone now. She's using Ning's face, rocking her hips in steady, selfish rolls that drag her clit across Ning's tongue with each pass. Her pussy is leaving streaks of wetness across Ning's chin, her cheeks, the bridge of her nose. Ning takes all of it, mouth open, tongue working, breathing through her nose in short bursts between Minjeong's thighs.

"You're doing so well," Minjeong pants. She reaches down and pushes Ning's hair back from her forehead. "My perfect little slut. You were made for this, weren't you?" Ning moans her agreement into Minjeong's cunt, and Minjeong's eyes roll back for a second before she catches herself.

You slide two fingers into Ning. Slow, curling upward, pressing against her front wall while your tongue works her clit in lazy, unpredictable patterns. She's so wet your fingers meet no resistance, just the tight, hot grip of her walls clenching around you as you push deeper. You pump into her a few times, steady, feeling her pulse around your knuckles, then pull out entirely.

Ning's hips lift off the mattress, searching. Her thighs clamp around your head. You pry them apart gently and blow cool air across her soaked pussy, watching the muscles in her stomach jump. "Please," she gasps into Minjeong, smothered between Minjeong's thighs, but you both hear it.

You press your tongue flat against her clit again and hold. No movement. Just heat, pressure and the promise of more. Her legs start shaking.

Above her, Minjeong is losing her rhythm. The controlled grinding has dissolved into something needier, less precise, her hips stuttering and jerking against Ning's mouth. "Make me cum," Minjeong breathes. "Right now. Make me cum, Ning."

Ning's hands slide up from Minjeong's thighs to her ass. She grabs both cheeks, fingers digging into the flesh, and pulls Minjeong down hard against her face. Her tongue pushes inside. Not against the clit, not teasing the entrance. Inside. Deep, as far as she can reach, curling and stroking Minjeong's walls while her nose presses against Minjeong's clit.

Minjeong shatters. Her whole body seizes. Her head drops back, tendons standing out in her neck, mouth open, a long, broken moan tearing out of her chest. Her hips grind down in tight, frantic circles against Ning's face, riding the orgasm out on her tongue, her pussy clenching and releasing in visible pulses. Wetness floods Ning's chin, her neck, pooling in the hollow of her throat. Minjeong shakes through it for what feels like a full minute, her grip on the headboard the only thing keeping her upright, wave after wave rolling through her until she's gasping and oversensitive and trembling.

She lifts herself off Ning's face on unsteady knees. Ning lies beneath her, mouth and chin and cheeks glazed with Minjeong's arousal, chest heaving, lips puffy and swollen and glistening. And she's close. You can feel it in the way her pussy clenches around your fingers (you've slid them back inside during Minjeong's orgasm, three now, curling rhythmically against that spongey spot while your thumb traces circles around her clit). Her legs are shaking uncontrollably. Her abs are taut. She's right there, right on the edge, teetering.

"Please," Ning whimpers, looking up at Minjeong with glassy, desperate eyes. "Please, I need to, I'm so close, please let me."

Minjeong slides off to the side, settling next to Ning, propped on one elbow. She runs a finger along Ning's jaw, collecting some of her own wetness, and pushes it between Ning's lips. "You'll cum when I tell you."

"Please, Minjeong, I can't, I need it."

"You can hold it." She strokes Ning's hair, calm and collected now, fully back in control despite the fact that she was just falling apart thirty seconds ago. "Be a good girl for me."

You pump your fingers steadily inside Ning, curling on every outstroke, your thumb maintaining constant pressure on her clit. Her walls flutter around your knuckles in desperate, involuntary spasms. Her fists grip the sheets so hard the fabric bunches. Every muscle in her body is locked.

"Minjeong," Ning begs again. Tears are forming at the corners of her eyes, not from pain but from the sheer intensity of holding back. "I'll do anything. I'll be so good. I'll be your good girl, I promise, please, I'm begging you."

Minjeong watches her for a long, cruel moment. Then she leans down, presses her lips to Ning's ear, and whispers, "Cum for me."

Your thumb presses down hard on Ning's clit and your fingers drive deep and curl. Ning screams. Not a moan, not a gasp. A full, raw, wrecked scream that tears out of her throat as her back arches completely off the mattress, her pussy clamping down on your fingers so tight it almost hurts. Her thighs slam shut around your hand. Her whole body convulses, rhythmic, violent contractions that shake her from her core outward, and she keeps screaming through it, broken fragments of Minjeong's name and and sounds that aren't language anymore.

You work her through it until she collapses, boneless and twitching, her legs falling open, your fingers still buried inside her pulsing cunt.

Minjeong turns to you. "Clean her face."

You pull your fingers out of Ning and move up the bed. Her face is a mess. Minjeong's juices coating her chin, her cheeks, the sides of her nose, drying in sticky trails. You lean down and drag your tongue from her jaw to her cheekbone, collecting the taste of Minjeong off Ning's skin. Across her chin. Along her upper lip. The corner of her mouth. You gather all of it on your tongue, every slick, musky trace, then you press your mouth to Ning's and push it all inside. Your tongue slides against hers, feeding her Minjeong's arousal, and Ning moans into the kiss, her hands coming up weakly to grip your face.

When you pull back, Ning's eyes are unfocused and completely gone. "Daddy," she whispers.

Minjeong's eyebrows lift. She looks at you. You look at her. A charged, knowing glance passes between you. "On your knees," Minjeong tells Ning, shifting back into something commanding and absolute. "On the floor. You're going to suck his cock now."

Ning slides off the bed like her bones are made of liquid, settling onto her knees on the carpet, looking up at both of you with that ruined, beautiful, cum-stained face and waiting.

Ning wraps her fingers around your shaft. She doesn't put it in her mouth right away. Instead, she tilts her head and presses the length of it against her cheek, dragging it slowly across her skin, her jaw, the corner of her lips. Her eyes close. She nuzzles against it like it's something precious, the warm weight of your cock resting against that gorgeous face, and she exhales through her nose, content.

"Look at her," Minjeong says from the edge of the bed, legs crossed, leaning forward on her elbows. "She didn't even need to be told. Show us how much of a slut you really are, Ning."

Ning drags your cock across her other cheek, leaving a faint streak of precum glistening on her skin. She opens her eyes and looks up at Minjeong, searching for approval, and presses her lips to the underside of the shaft in a long, lazy kiss.

Then she takes you in. No teasing, no tentative licks. She parts her lips and slides you into her mouth, her tongue pressing flat against the underside, cheeks hollowing as she sucks you in to the halfway point. Warm, wet, tight. Her lips seal around the shaft and she pulls back slowly, then pushes forward again, finding a rhythm.

Minjeong leans back on her palms, watching with fascinated eyes. "Get it nice and wet for me. Every inch. That cock is going inside your little pussy next, so you better make sure it's ready." Ning moans around your shaft. The vibration rolls through you and your hand finds the top of her head, fingers threading into her hair. She bobs steadily, saliva building around her lips, coating you, making everything slick and messy.

"You know what's funny," Minjeong continues, conversational. "I've seen every single photo on your Instagram. Every one. That mirror selfie in the white dress? The bikini shots? That gym story where the seam of your shorts was sitting right between your pussy lips?"

Ning's rhythm falters for a second. She pulls off your cock, a string of spit connecting her lower lip to the head, and looks at Minjeong with wide eyes and flushed cheeks. "You saw that?"

"I screenshot it. You knew exactly what you were doing when you posted it. Little tease. Showing off that body, those curves, hoping someone would notice." Minjeong tilts her head. "Well, someone noticed."

Ning licks her lips, tasting the mix of saliva and precum. "I am a tease."

"You're more than a tease. You're a slut who posts thirst traps at midnight hoping someone will come put her in her place." Minjeong's voice is fond and cruel at the same time, a combination only she can pull off. "And here you are. On your knees. Drooling on a cock. Exactly where you belong."

"Exactly where I belong," Ning repeats.

She takes you back in her mouth, pushing past the halfway point, her throat opening up as she works more of you inside. Her hand wraps around the base, stroking what her mouth can't reach, spit running down her fingers.

"Tell me something," Minjeong says, sliding off the bed and kneeling beside Ning on the floor. She tucks a strand of hair behind Ning's ear, gentle, then traces her thumb across Ning's stretched lower lip where it meets your shaft. "What do you prefer? Pussy or dick?"

Ning pulls off with a wet sound. She jerks you slowly while she answers, her fist slick and tight. "I can't decide."

"Pick one."

"I can't." She rubs the head of your cock against her parted lips while she talks, smearing spit and precum across her mouth. "I want both. Together. At the same time. Fucking me."

Minjeong face shifts into a look of predatory delight. "Both at once. Greedy little thing. I bet you'd give up all your holes if we asked. Pussy, mouth, ass. Every single one."

Ning nods without hesitation. "Every one. All of them. I'd let you use all of me."

"Say it properly."

Ning's eyes lock onto Minjeong's. "I'd give you every hole I have. Both of you. However you want. Whenever you want. I'm yours."

Minjeong strokes her cheek kindly. Then she gathers Ning's hair into a fist at the back of her head and pulls, firm enough to tilt her face upward. "Open."

Ning opens her mouth. Minjeong guides her head forward, pushing your cock between those swollen lips, controlling the depth, the angle, the speed. Slow at first. She pulls Ning down to the midpoint, holds her there for two seconds, then lets her come back up.

"Deeper," Minjeong instructs. She pushes Ning further. Three-quarters. You feel the head of your cock brush the back of her throat and Ning's hands grip your thighs, steadying herself. Her eyes water. She breathes through her nose, adjusting.

"All of it." Minjeong's fist tightens in Ning's hair. "Take the whole thing. Gag on it for me."

She pushes Ning all the way down. Your cock slides past the resistance of her throat and Ning chokes, her whole body lurching, spit flooding around the shaft and dripping from her chin. But she doesn't pull away. Her fingers dig into your thighs and she holds herself there, throat constricting around you in tight, involuntary spasms. Tears bead at the corners of her eyes, catching the light.

Minjeong holds her in place for three seconds. Four. Five. Then pulls her off by the hair. Ning gasps, a thick rope of saliva stretching from your cock to her lips before it breaks and drops onto her chest. Her mascara has started to run, thin dark tracks beneath her lower lashes.

"Good girl," Minjeong purrs, wiping Ning's chin with her thumb. "Look at you. So messy already."

She pushes Ning back down. Faster this time, setting a rhythm with her fist in Ning's hair, fucking her face onto your cock with controlled, merciless strokes. Ning takes it. Her throat opens and closes around the head on every downstroke, spit bubbling at the corners of her mouth, dripping off her chin in thick, translucent strings that land on her tits, her collarbones, the floor between her knees.

"This is what all those Instagram photos were really about," Minjeong tells her between strokes, pulling her up for air then shoving her back down. "Every posed selfie, every tight dress, every lip bite. You were advertising. Begging someone to see through the pretty packaging and find the desperate little cockslut underneath."

She pulls Ning off. Ning coughs, gasps, saliva coating her entire lower face. Her lips are swollen and red, her chin is a mess, and her eyes are glassy with tears that haven't quite fallen. "Thank you," Ning rasps.

Minjeong cradles her jaw, tilts her face up, and studies the damage with open admiration. Ruined makeup, spit-slicked skin, puffy lips trembling with exertion. A masterpiece in progress.

"We're just getting started," Minjeong tells her, pressing a kiss to her forehead that is somehow tender considering the circumstances. "Keep drooling over that dick," Minjeong tells Ning, giving her hair one last stroke before standing up. "I need to get something."

She pads across the room to the dresser, bare feet on hardwood, and pulls open the second drawer. You hear her rummage for a moment, pushing things aside with purpose. Ning stays on her knees, her fist wrapped loosely around your shaft, stroking in slow, absent movements while she watches Minjeong's back. Saliva still drips from her chin in lazy strings. The bell hasn't arrived yet and she's already waiting like something trained.

Minjeong turns around holding a strip of black leather. Thin, elegant, with a small silver buckle and a tiny bell dangling from a ring at the front. She walks back with it draped across both palms, presenting it like a jeweler showing a necklace.

"Look at you," she says softly, stopping in front of Ning. Her gaze travels down from Ning's tear-streaked face to the spit glistening on her chest, the swollen lips, the collar of bruises already forming on her knees from the hard floor. "Kneeling there, serving both of us. Makeup ruined. Drool everywhere. You look like a perfect little pet."

"She really does," you agree.

Minjeong crouches to Ning's level. "Tell me what you want to be."

Ning's eyes drop to the collar, then rise back to Minjeong's face. "A kitten."

Minjeong's breath catches. The momentary crack in the dom facade where the girl who hid behind a fern forty minutes ago surfaces and can't believe this is actually happening. A goonette fantasy becoming real. Then she blinks and it's gone. "That's the perfect answer." She unfastens the buckle, opens the collar wide. "I have exactly what you need to be a proper domesticated kitten."

She reaches forward and wraps the leather around Ning's throat. Gentle, careful, adjusting the fit so it sits snug but not tight, the cool metal of the bell resting in the hollow between her collarbones. She threads the leather through the buckle and pulls it closed.

"What do you think?" Minjeong asks, looking up at you.

"Looks perfect on her." You tilt your head, studying the way the black leather contrasts against Ning's skin, the way the little bell catches the lamplight. "You told me you'd been saving that for someone special. Seems like you finally found her."

Ning smiles when she hears that. Minjeong cups Ning's face with one hand, running her thumb across her lower lip, smearing the mess of spit and precum that's collected there. Ning's tongue darts out and licks the pad of Minjeong's thumb, maintaining eye contact. Like an obedient kitten lapping at her owner's hand.

"So cute," Minjeong whispers. She traces the ruined tracks of mascara under Ning's eyes, the smudged eyeliner, the foundation that's gone patchy from tears and spit. "So beautiful like this. All ruined. You know what I want? I want you to always wear makeup when we have sex. Full face. So I can watch it fall apart piece by piece. Watch you go from perfect to wrecked."

"Yes, Minjeong."

"Meow for me."

Ning doesn't hesitate. She tilts her chin up, the bell jingling softly, and lets out a small, sweet meow. Breathy and earnest and completely without irony. Minjeong giggles. An actual, genuine, delighted giggle that breaks through the dominant composure entirely. She covers her mouth with one hand and laughs, eyes crinkling. "Oh my god. You actually did it. I can't believe you actually did it." Ning smiles up at her, proud, the bell swaying against her throat. "So obedient." Minjeong smooths herself back into control, the grin turning firm. "Go to bed, kitten."

Ning rises (legs a little unsteady, knees red from the floor) and climbs onto the mattress, settling on her back against the pillows. The bell chimes with every movement she makes. Minjeong crosses the room again, this time to a different drawer. You sit on the edge of the bed beside Ning and rest your hand on her calf, running your thumb along the muscle there. She looks at you with those big, glassy, wrecked eyes.

"You feeling okay?"

She lets out a nervous little laugh, the bell jingling as her chest moves. "I've never felt so many things at once. I'm nervous and excited and my brain is like... short-circuiting? In a good way. In a really, really good way."

"You were born for this."

She stares at the ceiling, a bewildered smile spreading across her face. "And to think I was going to spend tonight watching Gossip Girl again. For the fourth time. I was on season three."

"Ning, this is objectively a better use of your evening."

"So much better," she agrees, still smiling at the ceiling like she can't quite believe her own life.

Minjeong reappears at the bedside. In one hand, a pair of padded handcuffs (black leather, matching the collar, because Kim Minjeong is nothing if not aesthetically coordinated). In the other, a tube of lipstick. Deep red, almost burgundy.

She climbs onto the bed with the fluid confidence of someone who has orchestrated this exact type of scenario before (even if never with someone she actually had feelings for). She straddles Ning's waist, takes both her wrists, and guides them above her head. The handcuffs loop through a slat in the headboard and click shut around each wrist with a snap. Ning tugs once, testing. Secure.

"The collar is a good start," Minjeong says, settling her weight on Ning's hips and uncapping the lipstick. "But it's not enough. You're a kitten with owners now, and kittens need to be marked so everyone knows who they belong to."

She presses the lipstick to Ning's stomach. The tip is cool against warm skin, and Ning flinches slightly, her abs tensing, the bell chiming from the movement. Minjeong writes in slow strokes across that flat, taut canvas. Each letter precise. When she finishes, she leans back to admire her work.

CUM DUMP. Bold, red, slightly smeared at the edges where Ning's breathing made her stomach rise and fall.

"Perfect," Minjeong murmurs. She looks at you. "What do you think?"

"I was going to suggest something but anything I wrote would sound incredibly sexist coming from me, so I'm glad you took creative control."

"Haha, very funny." She caps the lipstick and tosses it aside, then looks down at Ning. "Do you agree with what it says?"

Ning cranes her neck to read it upside down. The bell jingles. Her cheeks flush even darker than they already were, but she nods. "Yes. That's me."

"Good girl." Minjeong runs her fingertips along Ning's sides, feeling the goosebumps rise in their wake. "Obviously, she still needs more marks. Look at this skin." She pinches Ning's hip lightly and a pink spot blooms instantly on the pale flesh. "So fair. So sensitive. Every touch is going to leave a trace. It'll be easy for you to turn her all red."

She climbs off Ning and settles beside her, one hand possessively resting on Ning's collared throat, thumb stroking the leather. She looks at you with that dark, commanding certainty that has no business existing in the same person who said "day nice you" to this girl three weeks ago. "Fuck her tight little pussy. Make her scream.”

You obey without hesitation, settling between Ning's spread thighs, her legs draped over yours, the handcuffs clinking softly against the headboard slat as she shifts. The bell on her collar chimes. The red lipstick letters on her stomach rise and fall with her breathing. You grip the base of your cock, still slick from her throat, and drag the head along her slit. She's drenched, swollen, her pussy lips parting easily under the pressure, and Ning's entire body tenses in anticipation, her wrists pulling against the cuffs.

You push inside her. Slow. Inch by inch. The heat is staggering, tight and wet and gripping you like a fist, her walls clenching around the shaft as you sink deeper. Ning's head drops back against the pillow and her mouth falls open, the bell jingling as her throat works around a soundless gasp. You bottom out, hips flush against hers, and hold there. Let her feel the fullness. Let her adjust to being stretched around you while handcuffed and collared and marked with lipstick on a bed that still smells like the sex you had with Minjeong an hour ago.

Minjeong, meanwhile, has moved. She's propped against the headboard beside Ning, one leg bent, the other extended, and she's rummaging through the nightstand without looking (because she knows the layout of that drawer by muscle memory at this point). Her hand emerges with a small, matte black vibrator, compact and curved. She clicks it on, the low hum filling the room, and presses it between her own legs with a satisfied sigh. She spreads herself open with two fingers and nestles the tip directly against her clit, her thighs falling apart, and settles in to watch.

"Tell me what she feels like," Minjeong says. "I want details."

You pull back halfway and thrust in again, a deep, measured stroke that makes Ning's back arch off the mattress. "Tight. Really fucking tight. Tighter than you."

"Obviously. I've been broken in. She hasn't." Minjeong adjusts the angle of the vibrator and her breath stutters for a second. "What else?"

"Wet. She's dripping. I can feel it running down my balls." You thrust again, establishing a slow, grinding rhythm, pulling nearly all the way out before sliding back in to the hilt. Ning's pussy grips you on every outstroke like it doesn't want to let go. "And hot. She's burning up inside."

"Hear that, Ning?" Minjeong turns her head to look down at her. Ning's face is flushed, eyes half-shut, lips parted around shallow breaths, the tear tracks of ruined mascara still visible on her cheeks. "Your desperate little cunt is putting on quite a performance."

Ning's hips roll up to meet your next thrust and a moan spills out of her, unguarded and raw. "It feels so good."

"Yeah?"

"So good. Oh my god." Her wrists strain against the cuffs as she tries to reach for you and can't. The bell jingles with every movement, a constant, delicate accompaniment to the wet sounds of you fucking her. "I can feel all of you. Every inch."

You lean forward, changing the angle, pressing deeper, and Ning's eyes snap open. You grab her hip with one hand, anchoring her, and set a rhythm that's firm and constant, each stroke bottoming out, grinding against her cervix before pulling back.

"I bet she'd love having two cocks in her," Minjeong says, pressing the vibrator harder against her clit, her free hand gripping the sheet beside her thigh. "Mine and yours. Both stuffed inside that greedy little hole at the same time. Stretching her open until she couldn't think straight."

Ning's breath catches. She turns her head toward Minjeong, and even through the haze of pleasure there's something uncertain in her expression. "I don't... I don't think two would fit in me."

Minjeong snorts a soft, ruthless laugh, pure dismissal. "We'd make it fit. We'd go slow and work you open and push inside together and you'd take it because that's what dumb little cum dumps do. They take whatever gets shoved inside them and say thank you." You punctuate her point with a particularly hard thrust and Ning cries out, her voice pitching high, bouncing off the bedroom walls.

"Careful," Minjeong purrs, circling the vibrator in slow patterns against herself, her own arousal glistening on the toy. "The neighbors are going to hear you. What will they think of sweet, innocent Ning from apartment 71? The nice new girl with the pretty smile who waves in the hallway? Moaning like a little slut in heat for two people she met tonight." She tilts her head, studying Ning's mortified, aroused expression. "What do you think Mrs. Park next door would say if she could hear you right now? She brings you fruit baskets, doesn't she? Sweet old lady. Probably thinks you're such a wholesome young woman. If only she could see you handcuffed and collared with CUM DUMP written across your belly and a cock buried in your soaking wet pussy."

Ning whimpers, flushing from her cheeks all the way down her chest, the embarrassment and the arousal tangling together until they're indistinguishable. You feel her cunt clench around you, tighter, wetter, her body responding to the humiliation even as her face burns with shame. You keep fucking her. Steady, controlled strokes, each one dragging your shaft along her front wall, each one forcing a small, involuntary sound from her throat. The bell hasn't stopped chiming. The handcuffs rattle against the headboard in rhythm with your thrusts. The red lipstick on her stomach is starting to smear where your hand grips her hip, the M in DUMP bleeding into a crimson streak across her skin.

Minjeong's gaze drifts to the floor. She spots her own shorts. She clicks the vibrator off, sets it aside, and leans over the edge of the bed to pick them up. She examines them for a second, turning them inside out, finding the crotch panel. Even from where you are, you can see the damp patch.

"Open your mouth," Minjeong tells Ning. Ning obeys, lips parting, and Minjeong presses the wet patch of fabric directly against her nose and mouth. Ning inhales and her eyes roll back, a full-body shudder running through her, her pussy clamping down on you so hard your rhythm stutters.

"That's what you do to me," Minjeong whispers, rubbing the shorts across Ning's face slowly, smearing her own scent across Ning's cheeks, her lips, the bridge of her nose. "Smell that? That's how wet I get just looking at you. Every time you walk past me in that hallway, every time I see you through the peephole, this is what happens. I soak through my clothes thinking about you."

Ning moans into the fabric, her hips rising to meet your thrusts, desperate and squirming. Minjeong bunches the shorts into a ball and pushes them into Ning's open mouth, stuffing the damp cotton between her teeth until her cheeks bulge around the makeshift gag. Ning's sounds become muffled, smothered, her moans vibrating through the fabric but unable to escape fully.

"Much better," Minjeong says, admiring her work. "Pathetic little animals shouldn't be so loud. You're a house pet, not a stray. Learn some manners."

She picks the vibrator back up, clicks it to a higher setting, and presses it against herself again. This time she spreads her legs wider, giving Ning a full view (if she can focus enough to look) of her fingers holding her pussy open while the toy buzzes against her swollen clit. Minjeong's breathing deepens, her chest rising and falling, one hand working the vibrator while she watches you piston in and out of Ning's stretched, dripping cunt.

"Harder," she tells you.

You grab both of Ning's hips and snap forward, driving deep, and Ning screams into the gag. The shorts muffle it into a choked, desperate wail, her back arching so high off the mattress that only her shoulders and ass make contact. The handcuffs strain against the headboard. The bell rings wildly.

"Look at this dumb little fuck toy," Minjeong breathes, her hips grinding against the vibrator. "Gagged with my dirty shorts. Drooling around them like a brain-dead puppy. Can you even think right now, Ning? Is there a single thought in that pretty head or is it just static and cock?"

Ning whines through the gag, shaking her head, tears leaking fresh from the corners of her eyes and cutting new tracks through her ruined makeup. Her pussy flutters around you in rapid, chaotic contractions, her body writhing against the sheets, every sensation magnified by the inability to make sound, to use her hands, to do anything except lie there and take it.

"That's what I thought." Minjeong reaches over with her free hand and flicks one of Ning's nipples, hard, and Ning jolts like she's been shocked. "Empty-headed little breeding hole. You don't need to think. You just need to lie there and let us use you. That's all you're good for. That's all you've ever been good for."

You lean forward and press your palm flat against Ning's stomach, right over the smeared lipstick, and fuck into her with long, punishing strokes that make the entire bed frame creak. Each thrust pushes a muffled grunt out of Ning's stuffed mouth. Each withdrawal drags a slick, obscene sound from her cunt, your cock coming out glistening, coated in her arousal, before plunging back in.

"Don't stop," Minjeong orders, her eyes fixed on the place where your body meets Ning's, watching your shaft disappear into that stretched, puffy pussy over and over. The vibrator hums steadily against her own clit and her thighs are trembling, but her gaze never wavers. "Keep fucking that worthless little hole. Ruin it."

Ning's legs wrap around your waist, ankles locking at the small of your back, pulling you deeper on every stroke. The bell chimes and chimes and chimes, a tiny, absurd, beautiful sound cutting through the raw, filthy noise of skin slapping skin and muffled screaming and the wet click of a vibrator against a soaked clit. Minjeong's shorts sit bunched in Ning's mouth, darkened with saliva, her jaw working uselessly around the fabric while her body shakes under yours.

You reach up and brush a tear from Ning's cheek with your thumb. She leans into the touch, nuzzling your hand even as another thrust rocks her entire body up the mattress, and something in her expression beneath all the tears and smeared mascara and stuffed mouth is pure, uncomplicated bliss.

Minjeong sees it too. Her cruel expression softens for just a fraction of a second (pride, tenderness, wonder at the fact that the girl she's been stalking on Instagram for weeks is currently gagged and handcuffed in her bed making sounds like a wounded animal). Then the mask clicks back into place.

"Good girl," she murmurs, and the vibrator hums louder against her.

You tighten your grip on Ning's hips and drive forward, harder than before, the slap of your pelvis against her ass echoing through the bedroom. Your fingers dig into the soft flesh at her waist, pressing deep enough that the skin blanches white around your fingertips before flooding pink when you shift your hold. Each thrust rocks her up the mattress an inch, the handcuffs clanking against the headboard in a metallic staccato, the bell on her collar singing its constant little song.

"That's it," Minjeong breathes from beside you, the vibrator pressed snug between her legs, her thighs glistening. She's watching the place where your cock disappears into Ning with an almost clinical fascination, her free hand gripping her own thigh. "Fuck her good. Really good. I bet you're loving that, aren't you? That wet, warm, tight little pussy gripping your cock so well."

"She's squeezing me every time I pull out."

"Of course she is. Desperate little hole doesn't want to let go." Minjeong shifts the vibrator's angle against her clit and her abs clench. "Her body knows what it's for even if her brain hasn't caught up yet."

You increase the pace again, snapping your hips forward with enough force that the bed frame groans against the wall. Your hands on Ning's hips are leaving marks now, red fingerprints blooming on her pale skin like stamps, and you watch them appear and darken with each adjustment of your grip. She's going to wear those bruises for a week. Little oval reminders pressed into her flesh that she'll see every time she showers, every time she changes, every time she catches herself in a mirror.

Minjeong leans over and spits on Ning's chest. A thick glob that lands between her tits and slides slowly down toward her sternum, mixing with the smeared red lipstick. "Dirty slut."

Ning's muffled shriek through the gag is somewhere between protest and ecstasy. Her hips buck up against yours, chasing the impact, her body arching into the degradation like a plant turning toward sunlight. The shorts stuffed in her mouth are soaked through with saliva, her jaw working around the damp cotton, drool leaking from the corners of her lips and running down her chin in thin streams.

"It's so good hearing her like that," Minjeong murmurs, pressing the vibrator harder against herself. "All those little choked sounds. Like a puppy whining through a muzzle." She tilts her head, studying Ning's tear-streaked, gagged, spit-covered face. "But now I want to hear her beg."

Minjeong reaches over and hooks a finger into the bunched fabric, pulling the shorts from Ning's mouth. They come out dark with spit, and Ning gasps, gulping air, her jaw stretching wide to relieve the ache. A thick rope of saliva connects her lower lip to the wadded cotton for a second before it breaks. Minjeong stands. Right there on the mattress, rising to her full height above Ning's prone body, feet planted on either side of her ribcage. Small but towering, naked, the vibrator buzzing at maximum in her hand, pressed hard against her swollen clit. Her pussy is flushed dark, her inner thighs slick with arousal, and she looks down at Ning the way a goddess looks at an offering.

"Beg me," she says. "Beg me to cum all over your body. Ask me to drench you. To bathe you in it. Make it sound delicious, kitten, or I won't give you a single drop."

Ning's face is a wreck. Mascara smeared to her temples, foundation patchy and streaked, lipstick bitten off entirely, her cheeks flushed so deep they're almost purple. She looks up at Minjeong standing above her while you keep fucking her in long, brutal strokes, and the combination of being split open on a cock and staring up at the woman she's been crushing on for three weeks breaks something loose inside her.

"Please," she moans, her wrists pulling uselessly at the cuffs. "Please cum on me, Minjeong. All over me. I want it. I want to feel it. I want to be covered in you, I want it on my face and my tits and my stomach, please, please give it to me, I need it, I need you."

Minjeong's legs tremble. The vibrator hums furiously against her clit, her hand pressing it so hard the skin around it dimples. "Are you a dirty little whore?"

"I'm a dirty little whore."

"Whose dirty little whore?"

"Yours. I'm your dirty little whore, Minjeong, please, please cum on me, mark me, I want to smell like you, I want to taste you, please."

You slam into Ning and she screams, the sound raw and open now that the gag is gone, and Minjeong breaks above her like a dam. It starts with a strangled moan that rips from somewhere deep in Minjeong's chest. Her knees buckle slightly, her thighs clamping together around the vibrator, and then it happens. She cums, hard, and the squirt hits Ning's body in a hot, clear arc. It splashes across her tits first, then her stomach, then her collarbones as Minjeong's hips jerk and pulse, wave after wave of fluid pouring out of her in rhythmic gushes. Minjeong's free hand grabs her own thigh for stability, her mouth open, head thrown back, a long, shattered moan pouring out of her that doesn't sound like the composed, commanding woman who was giving orders thirty seconds ago. It sounds like someone coming undone at a molecular level.

Ning squeals beneath the onslaught, flinching at first as the warm fluid hits her skin, then going still, then opening her mouth. She tilts her chin up and catches the last pulses on her tongue, her lips, her cheeks, letting Minjeong's cum pool in the hollow of her throat and overflow down the sides of her neck. There's so much of it. It runs in rivulets across her ribs, pools in her navel, mingles with the spit and the smeared lipstick until her entire torso is a glistening, dripping mess.

"It's so warm," Ning whispers, eyes wide, almost awed.

You stare. You've seen Minjeong squirt before (on your face, on your chest, once on the kitchen floor by accident), but watching it land on Ning (on that perfect body, in that collared throat, across those parted lips) while you're buried to the hilt inside Ning's cunt is something else entirely. It's the filthiest, hottest, most depraved thing you've ever witnessed in your life, and you know with absolute certainty that this image is going to be burned into your brain until the day you die.

Your composure snaps. "I'm going to cum."

Ning's legs lock around your waist, heels digging into your lower back. "Inside me. I'm on the pill. Please. Inside."

Minjeong drops to her knees on the mattress, still trembling from her own orgasm, and looks at you with glazed, heavy-lidded eyes. "Good girl. Cum inside her. Fill her up."

You bury yourself as deep as you can go, your fingers gripping Ning's marked, bruised hips hard enough to leave fresh prints, and let go. The orgasm tears through you hot and blinding, your cock pulsing inside Ning's clenching pussy, pumping thick ropes of cum against her cervix. Ning's eyes roll back, her lashes fluttering, her mouth falling open in a silent gasp as she feels the heat flood her insides. Her walls clamp down around you in rhythmic, milking contractions, coaxing every drop out of you, and she trembles from head to toe, a soft, broken little moan leaking from her throat that trails off into nothing as her body goes limp beneath yours.

The three of you breathe. Ragged, heavy, out of sync. The vibrator lies abandoned on the sheets, still buzzing faintly. You pull out slowly, carefully, and sit back on your heels. Ning's pussy is swollen and flushed, her lips puffy and parted, and as your cock slides free, a thick trickle of cum follows, oozing from her entrance, dripping down the curve of her ass onto the sheets beneath her.

"Look at her," you murmur, running your gaze across Ning's body. She's glowing. Literally glowing, her skin sheened with Minjeong's juices from collarbone to hip, glistening in the warm light. The remnants of the lipstick letters peek through the mess like a watercolor left in the rain. The collar sits snug against her throat. Her face is ruined and radiant and completely, utterly spent.

Minjeong crawls to the edge of the bed and looks between Ning's legs. She watches the cum leak from that swollen, used pussy, and her tongue drags across her lower lip slowly. "You," she says to you, not taking her eyes off the mess between Ning's thighs, "lick her body clean. Every inch. All of my cum, off every part of her." She settles onto her stomach between Ning's legs, face inches from her dripping cunt. "I'm going to eat yours out of her pussy."

You start at Ning's neck. The hollow of her throat, where Minjeong's juices have pooled against the leather of the collar. Your tongue drags through the warm, slick fluid and Ning giggles, her shoulders scrunching up.

"That tickles." You smile against her skin and keep going. Across her collarbone, tracing the ridge of bone, collecting the taste of Minjeong (familiar to you, musky and slightly sweet) off Ning's body. Down to her chest, your tongue flat against the curve of her breast, circling toward the nipple, lapping up every trace. Ning squirms, the handcuffs rattling, another breathless laugh escaping her as your tongue hits a sensitive spot along her ribs.

Then Minjeong's mouth touches her pussy, and the giggling stops. Ning's entire body goes taut. Her breath catches in her throat and comes back out as a long, trembling sigh that seems to drain every ounce of tension from her muscles. Her head sinks deeper into the pillow. Her eyes close. Her lips part. "Oh," she breathes. "Oh, that's..."

You move lower, licking a path down her stomach, through the ghostly remnants of the lipstick, tasting salt and Minjeong's cum and the warmth of Ning's skin underneath it all. Your tongue dips into her navel, circles it, continues downward along the soft plane below. Meanwhile, you can hear Minjeong working between Ning's thighs, the wet sounds of her tongue lapping at Ning's entrance, scooping your cum out of her, swallowing, going back for more. Ning's hips start to move. Subtle, involuntary rolls, pressing up toward Minjeong's mouth, then settling back, then pressing up again. Her breathing has gone shallow and uneven, little gasps punctuating each exhale, the bell on her collar chiming softly with the motion of her chest.

"Two people," Ning mumbles, her eyes still closed, her head turning to the side on the pillow. "Two people licking me at the same time. This is insane. This is so fucking good."

You work your tongue along the crease where her hip meets her thigh, that sensitive fold of skin, and she shivers beneath you. Minjeong's head bobs gently between Ning's legs, her tongue pushing inside, collecting the last of the cum pooled deep within her, and Ning lets out a sound that's barely human. Low, sustained, vibrating in her chest, the kind of sound someone makes when they've stopped trying to perform and simply surrendered to what their body is feeling.

Her fingers curl into fists above the handcuffs. The bell rings softly, endlessly. Her whole body glows under the lamplight, wet and clean and worshipped, and she melts into the mattress like she's never going to move again.

Minjeong lifts her head from between Ning's thighs, her chin glossy, her lips swollen and shining. She licks the corner of her mouth slowly, savoring, her eyes half-closed like she just tasted something transcendent at a Michelin-star restaurant.

"Your cum," she says to you, running her tongue across her lower lip one more time, "mixed with her juices. It's perfect. It's like they were made to go together. I could eat it out of her for hours."

She presses one final, lingering kiss to Ning's pussy (Ning twitches, oversensitive, a tiny whimper escaping her) and then sits up, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. "But now." Minjeong crawls up the bed until she's level with Ning's face, looking down at her with that predatory calm. "I need his cock. You've had your turn, kitten."

Ning blinks up at her, dazed and glowing, wrists still locked above her head. "What do I..."

"You're going to stay right there. Handcuffed. Watching me get fucked." Minjeong reaches over to the sheets where the vibrator lies dormant and picks it up, turning it over in her hand. She clicks the base once, twice, three times, cycling through the settings until the hum becomes aggressive. Maximum power. "And this is going to keep you company."

She spreads Ning's thighs apart with one hand. Ning's pussy is puffy and flushed, freshly eaten, still glistening. Minjeong positions the vibrator at her entrance and pushes it inside in one smooth motion. Ning's spine lifts off the mattress, her mouth falling open, a sharp gasp cutting through the room as the toy seats itself deep, buzzing furiously against her walls.

"Oh fuck," Ning breathes, her thighs snapping shut around the vibrator. "Oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck."

"Don't you dare cum," Minjeong tells her, tapping her knee. "Not until I say." She turns away from Ning with the dismissive confidence of someone closing an app and moves to the center of the bed, positioning herself on all fours. Knees apart. Back arched. That narrow waist curving down into the swell of her ass, which is small and tight and perfectly round.

You settle behind her, one hand on her hip, and take a second to appreciate the view. Minjeong's pussy is swollen between her thighs, still flushed from the vibrator and the squirting, her arousal smeared across her inner thighs in glossy streaks. Her shoulder blades jut beneath her skin as she braces on her forearms. The knobs of her spine trace a delicate line down to the small of her back.

"Great ass," you tell her, and bring your palm down on her right cheek with a sharp crack. The sound rings through the bedroom and Minjeong jolts forward, a hiss escaping through her teeth, a pink handprint blooming on her skin before you've even pulled your hand away.

"Flattery will get you everywhere," she mutters over her shoulder. "Now put it in."

You line yourself up and push into her. Different from Ning. Familiar. Minjeong's cunt is wetter than you've ever felt it, still pulsing from the orgasm she had standing above Ning, and she takes you easily, her body opening up around your shaft with practiced ease. She drops her head between her arms and lets out a long, satisfied exhale as you bottom out.

You grab her hips and start moving. Steady, calculated strokes, pulling back until just the tip catches at her entrance and then driving forward, burying yourself deep enough that your hips smack against her ass. Minjeong turns her head to look at Ning. The girl is a wreck already, barely two minutes in. Her wrists twist against the handcuffs, the chain clinking, her hips writhing against the mattress in tight, involuntary circles. The vibrator hums relentlessly inside her, and you can see the tension in her thighs, the way her muscles clench and release and clench again as she fights against the building pressure.

"Are you enjoying the show?" Minjeong asks her, rocking back against your thrusts. "Watching me take his cock while that toy fucks your needy little hole?"

Ning's eyes are locked on the place where your body meets Minjeong's. She watches your cock slide in and out, glistening, stretching Minjeong's pussy around the shaft, and her lips part around a shaky moan. "Yes."

"Of course you are. Horny little slut. Can't go five minutes without stimulation or you start falling apart." Minjeong pushes back against you harder, matching your rhythm, her ass meeting your pelvis with a wet slap on each stroke. "I bet you touch yourself every night in that apartment. Alone in bed with your fingers in your pussy, scrolling through filth on your phone."

Ning whimpers, squirming harder, the bell on her collar ringing with every movement. "Minjeong, you're so beautiful."

The compliment catches Minjeong off guard mid-thrust. Her composure flickers for a second, she pushes her hair out of her face and smiles back at Ning. "You're beautiful too," she says, soft enough to sound sincere. “The prettiest little kitten in the world.” Then she flips the switch: "Now shut up and watch me get fucked."

You grip Minjeong's waist tighter and increase the pace, driving into her with more force, the bed rocking beneath the three of you. Minjeong drops her chest to the mattress, arching her back deeper, changing the angle so you hit that spot inside her that makes her fingers claw at the sheets. Her moans are low and controlled, the sounds of someone who knows exactly what she likes and is getting exactly that.

Ning is losing it. Her legs press together around the vibrator, thighs trembling visibly, her abs clenching in rapid spasms. Sweat glistens on her chest and stomach, mixing with the drying residue of everything that's already been spilled on her tonight. Her breathing has gone ragged, shallow, desperate little pants that hitch and stutter every few seconds. "Minjeong," she gasps. "I don't... I don't know how much longer I can hold on."

"You'll hold on as long as I tell you to hold on."

"Please. It's so much. It's right there, it's right there and I can't, I'm trying so hard to be good."

"Then try harder."

A tear spills down Ning's cheek, cutting a fresh track through the ruined mascara. Her whole body is shaking now, vibrating almost as intensely as the toy inside her, every muscle locked in a war between obedience and biology. You bring your palm down on Minjeong's ass again, lighter this time, playful, and she glances back at you over her shoulder. "You're being pretty mean to your new girlfriend."

"It's nothing. She needs to learn good manners from the start. You don't spoil a pet the first day you bring it home. You establish boundaries. You establish who's in charge." She clenches around you intentionally, her pussy gripping your shaft, and grins. "She'll thank me later."

Ning turns her tear-streaked face toward you. Those big, dark, beautiful eyes swimming with desperation, her lower lip trembling, the collar sitting snug against her throat with its little bell catching the light. She looks wrecked and gorgeous and absolutely at her limit.

"Please," she says to you, quiet and broken. "Please make her cum. Quickly. I can't hold it. Please, please, I'm begging you."

You look at those teary eyes and that quivering lip and your heart just squeezes. You lean forward over Minjeong's back, your mouth close to her ear. "No problem, princess."

You grab both of Minjeong's arms, pulling them back behind her. Her chest drops, her cheek pressing flat against the mattress, her spine bowing into a deep, sharp arch. She yelps at the sudden shift, her shoulders straining, her body completely at your mercy with her wrists locked in your grip behind her back.

You start fucking her hard. Not the measured strokes from before. This is punishing. Brutal. Your hips snap forward with everything you have, slamming into Minjeong's pussy. The slap of skin on skin is deafening, drowning out the buzz of the vibrator, drowning out the rattle of Ning's handcuffs. Minjeong's moans dissolve into sharp, staccato cries, each one punched out of her by the impact of your hips against her ass, her body jolting forward with every thrust and being yanked back by the grip on her wrists.

The bed creaks dangerously. Ning writhes beside you both, tears streaming freely now, her teeth sinking into her lower lip hard enough to leave marks, every ounce of her willpower focused on the single task of not letting go while the vibrator destroys her from the inside. Her thighs clamp together and release and clamp again, her hips bucking against nothing, the bell ringing wildly with every spasm.

And Minjeong, face pressed to the sheets, arms pinned behind her, being railed from behind with her new pet crying beside her and a bruise forming on her ass in the shape of your hand, lets out a breathless, broken laugh that's equal parts pleasure and disbelief.

"This isn't fair," Minjeong gasps into the mattress. "You two conspired against me. You plotted. This is a coup. This is a hostile takeover of my own bedroom and I won't..."

The rest of the sentence dies in her throat because you slam into her hard enough to shunt her forward on the bed, and what comes out instead is a moan so loud it fills every corner of the room. Her back arches impossibly deep, her shoulder blades pressing together, her fingers flexing uselessly in your grip.

"Say you love my dick."

"I'm not going to..." Another thrust. Her entire body shudders. "That's so... you can't just..."

You pull back to the tip and drive forward again, grinding deep, pressing against that spot inside her that turns her brain to static. Her thighs tremble violently. Her toes curl into the sheets. "Say it."

"I love your dick," she chokes out, and the words dissolve into a ragged moan that she buries in the mattress. "I love your dick, okay, I love it, it's so deep, fuck, I hate you both so much." You don't let up. Each stroke is full and punishing, your hips colliding with her ass, the wet slap of contact filling the bedroom alongside Ning's desperate whimpering and the relentless hum of the vibrator. Minjeong's pussy clenches around you in erratic pulses, her walls fluttering, her body winding tighter and tighter like a spring being cranked past its limit.

Her moans climb in pitch. Her knees slide wider apart on the sheets. She tries to say something (probably another complaint about fairness) but it comes out as nothing, just air and sound, her jaw hanging open, drool pooling on the mattress beneath her cheek. You feel the exact moment it starts. Her pussy locks around your cock in a vice grip, her whole body going rigid, and then the orgasm crashes through her.

She screams. Face down, arms restrained, pinned and filled and wrecked, Kim Minjeong screams into her own sheets while her cunt pulses around you in violent, rhythmic contractions. Her hips buck backwards, grinding against you, riding it out, her spine rolling in waves. You hold her wrists and stay buried deep while she comes apart, letting her pussy milk the length of your shaft through every spasm, every aftershock, every trembling pulse that ripples through her body for what feels like a solid thirty seconds.

When it subsides, you release her arms. They fall to the mattress like dead weight. Minjeong lies face down, breathing in shattered gasps, her skin flushed from her neck to her lower back. She turns her head to the side and blinks once, twice, refocusing on reality. "That," she pants, "was not fair."

"You enjoyed it."

"Irrelevant." She takes one more deep breath, then pushes herself up onto her elbows and looks at Ning. The girl is a disaster. Tears streaming, teeth clenched, every muscle in her body locked in a full-body tremor, the vibrator still buzzing mercilessly inside her. Her thighs are clamped together so tightly her legs are shaking, and her wrists have gone white where they strain against the cuffs. She looks like she's going to shatter.

Minjeong softens. Just a fraction. Just enough. "Okay, kitten. You can cum now."

Ning doesn't even process the words for a second. She stares at Minjeong with glazed, uncomprehending eyes, and then it registers, and then everything she's been holding back for the last ten minutes detonates at once.

Her back arches off the bed so hard the handcuffs wrench against the headboard with a metallic crack. Her mouth opens wide, a raw, wrecked scream tearing from her lungs, and her pussy clamps down on the vibrator and pushes it halfway out as she squirts. It's violent. A forceful gush of clear fluid that arcs from between her clenched thighs, soaking the sheets beneath her, splashing against her own legs, pooling in the creases of the mattress. Her entire body convulses, hips bucking off the bed in sharp, involuntary jerks, the bell on her collar ringing frantically.

Minjeong is right there. She reaches between Ning's legs and presses her palm flat against her pussy, rubbing in firm, circular strokes through the squirt, through the contractions, keeping the pressure steady while Ning convulses beneath her hand. "That's it. Let it all out. Give me everything."

Ning squirts again, a second wave that coats Minjeong's wrist and forearm in warm, slick fluid. Her screams dissolve into broken sobs, her body jerking and twitching, riding the orgasm far past the point of pleasure and into something overwhelming and raw. The vibrator buzzes against Minjeong's palm, trapped between her hand and Ning's pulsing cunt, and Ning's legs kick weakly at the soaked sheets.

When it finally subsides, Ning goes completely limp. Every muscle releases at once, like someone cut her strings. She sinks into the mattress, chest heaving, eyes unfocused, mouth slightly open, tears and sweat and mascara streaking her face. The bell rests silent against her throat for the first time in what feels like hours. She looks demolished. Thoroughly, comprehensively, beautifully ruined.

Minjeong pulls the vibrator out gently (Ning flinches, whimpers, then settles) and clicks it off. She sets it aside and reaches for the handcuffs, producing a small key from the nightstand drawer. She unlocks the left cuff first, then the right, and Ning's arms fall to the mattress like they've forgotten how to be arms. Red marks circle both wrists where the leather pressed into skin.

Minjeong lifts each wrist and presses her lips to the marks. Left, then right. Gentle kisses, barely there, tracing the indentations with her mouth. She doesn't say anything.

Then she stands. She crosses to the dresser and pulls open the top drawer (the one you mentioned to Ning earlier, the strap-on armory). She surveys her options for a moment, selects one with the casual authority of a sommelier choosing a bottle, and steps into the harness. It's matte black, sleek, the silicone cock attached to it a reasonable size (not the biggest in her collection, you know, but enough to make a point). She adjusts the straps around her hips and thighs with efficient movements, tightening buckles, checking the fit, as calm as someone tying their shoes.

She turns back toward the bed. Standing at the foot of it, naked except for the harness, the strap jutting from between her slim hips, hands resting loosely at her sides. She looks at Ning, still spread-eagled and trembling on the soaked sheets, and tilts her head.

"Come here, kitten." Ning lifts her head from the pillow. Her eyes are glassy, unfocused, still drifting somewhere between consciousness and the afterglow of the most intense orgasm of her life. She blinks at Minjeong. Processes the command. Processes the strap-on hanging between Minjeong's legs. Swallows hard. "Crawl."

Ning rolls onto her stomach. Her arms shake as she pushes herself up onto her hands and knees, the bell on her collar jingling with the effort. She's unsteady, swaying slightly, her limbs still trembling from the aftershocks. But she crawls. Slowly, carefully, across the ruined sheets, one hand in front of the other, knees sliding through the wet patches she left behind, moving toward Minjeong at the foot of the bed.

She stops in front of Minjeong. On her hands and knees at the edge of the mattress, eye level with the strap. The bell hangs beneath her chin, swaying gently. Her hair falls in messy curtains around her face. Minjeong reaches down and tilts Ning's chin up with two fingers. Studies her. The smeared makeup, the tear tracks, the swollen lips, the flush that extends from her cheeks down her neck and across her chest. The collar sitting snug against her throat. The faint red marks from the handcuffs circling her wrists.

"You smell like a whore," Minjeong tells her. "Like cum and sweat and pussy. Like someone who spent the last hour being used as a fuck toy by two people she barely knows. You reek of it."

Ning's lips tremble. She doesn't look away.

"Meow for me."

Ning meows. Soft, small, slightly hoarse from all the screaming, the sound catching in her raw throat. The bell jingles as her chin dips with the effort. Minjeong smiles. She strokes Ning's hair once, tucking a matted strand behind her ear. "See this?" She wraps her hand around the shaft of the strap and angles it toward Ning's face, the tip brushing her lower lip. "This is for you. Your job is to worship it. Not suck it, not blow it. Worship it. Like it's the most important thing in your world. Starting now."

Ning's lips part. She extends her tongue and touches it to the underside of the shaft, just below the head, and drags it slowly upward. Her eyes stay locked on Minjeong's. Wide, dark, still glistening with tears, unblinking. She licks a stripe from base to tip, then closes her lips around the head and sinks forward, taking the first few inches into her mouth with reverent, unhurried devotion. No gagging, no desperation. Slow. Her cheeks hollow gently as she sucks, her tongue working the underside, and she never once breaks eye contact with the woman standing above her.

Minjeong's hand settles on top of Ning's head, fingers threading into her damp, tangled hair. She watches her collared kitten worship the strap with an expression you've never seen on her before. Possession, tenderness, hunger, disbelief, all layered on top of each other. Her thumb traces circles on Ning's scalp. The bell chimes softly with each gentle bob of Ning's head. "Good girl," Minjeong whispers. "My good girl.”

Ning takes her time. Her tongue traces the ridge beneath the head of the strap, slowly, mapping the shape of it like she's memorizing every contour. She pulls back and presses her lips to the side of the shaft, kissing down toward the base where silicone meets harness, where she can smell Minjeong's skin underneath, the salt and musk of her. She kisses back up the other side, unhurried, devoted, and when she reaches the tip again she parts her lips and takes it in, sinking forward until her nose nearly touches Minjeong's pelvis.

The bell chimes softly with each subtle bob of her head. Her eyes never leave Minjeong's face. Minjeong watches with parted lips, one hand resting on top of Ning's head, fingers curled loosely in her hair. She's quiet for a while, just breathing, just watching, letting Ning set the pace. The strap pushes against the base plate with each stroke, transferring subtle pressure against Minjeong's clit, and every so often her eyelids flutter at the contact.

"You look so pretty with a cock in your mouth," Minjeong murmurs, brushing a strand of damp hair away from Ning's face. "Like you were designed for it."

Ning hums around the shaft, grateful, and takes it deeper. Spit is building around her lips, coating the silicone in a slick sheen, dripping from her chin in slow threads that land on the sheets between her hands.

Then Minjeong's grip tightens. Her fingers twist into a fist at the back of Ning's skull, and the gentle resting hand becomes something controlling. She holds Ning's head still and rolls her hips forward, pushing the strap deeper into Ning's mouth. A test. Ning gags slightly, her throat constricting, but she doesn't pull back. She breathes through her nose and relaxes her jaw and takes it.

"Good," Minjeong breathes. She pulls back and thrusts forward again, a little harder. "Stay right there."

She starts fucking Ning's throat. Slow at first, measured strokes that push the strap past Ning's tongue and into the tight resistance of her throat, holding for a beat, then withdrawing. Each thrust draws a thick, wet gurgling sound from Ning's mouth, saliva flooding around the shaft, bubbling at the corners of her lips. Minjeong increases the pace gradually, her hips finding a rhythm, her fist in Ning's hair controlling the angle and the depth.

Ning takes it. Her hands grip the edge of the mattress for balance, her collared throat working around the intrusion, her eyes streaming with reflexive tears that cut fresh tracks through the mess on her face. She gags and drools and keeps going, keeps her eyes locked on Minjeong's, keeps that expression of total, willing surrender even as spit runs freely down her chin and drips onto her chest.

You lean back against the headboard, watching, arms crossed. "This is really romantic."

Minjeong doesn't break her rhythm. She keeps her fist in Ning's hair and her hips rolling forward and glances at you over her shoulder. "It is, actually."

"Nothing says 'welcome to the building' like a strap down the throat."

"Before I can pamper her, I need to degrade her a little first. It's the process. Destruction and reconstruction. You have to tear something down before you can build it into what it's meant to be." She thrusts deep and holds Ning there, nose pressed against her pelvis, throat convulsing.

"Quite poetic."

"I get pretty poetic when there’s a beautiful, slutty girl sucking my big, thick cock." She releases Ning's head and the girl pulls back gasping, a thick bridge of spit stretching from her lips to the tip of the strap before it collapses onto her chin. Minjeong strokes her cheek with the back of her hand.

She grabs Ning's hair again and pulls her back onto the strap. Harder this time, faster, her hips pumping with real force, using Ning's mouth like it exists for this singular purpose. The sounds are filthy. Wet, choking, guttural. Ning's throat bulges with each deep stroke, her body lurching forward. She gags violently and spit erupts around the shaft, coating Minjeong's thighs, running in thick ropes down Ning's neck and between her collarbones.

Minjeong keeps going. She fucks Ning's face with the detached focus of someone working through a task, her jaw set, her breathing steady, only the flush across her chest betraying how much this is doing for her. The base plate grinds against her clit with every thrust and she absorbs each pulse of pleasure without changing expression.

Then she stops. Pulls the strap out completely. Steps back.

Ning stays on her hands and knees, head hanging, chest heaving. She's destroyed. Saliva covers the entire lower half of her face, her neck, her collarbones. It's dripped down onto her tits and stomach, mixing with the dried residue of everything else that's been on her tonight. Her lips are swollen and raw, her mascara has migrated to her temples, and she's trembling from head to toe.

"Open your mouth," Minjeong says. Ning tilts her face up and opens wide. Tongue out, lips stretched, the bell resting in the puddle of drool at the hollow of her throat. Minjeong leans forward and spits. A thick glob that lands directly on Ning's tongue. It sits there, glistening, and Ning holds perfectly still, mouth open, waiting. "Swallow."

Ning closes her mouth and swallows. Her throat bobs once. She opens her mouth again to show it's gone.

"Perfect little drain." Minjeong traces Ning's jawline with her fingertip, tilting her head side to side like she's inspecting merchandise. "Tell me something, kitten. Have you ever been fucked in the ass?"

The question catches her off guard. The empty, obedient look breaks, and a timid, almost girlish shyness surfaces. Her blush deepens and she lowers her gaze to the bed. "Only twice," she admits quietly.

Minjeong's palm connects with Ning's cheek. Not hard enough to snap her head, but sharp enough that the crack rings through the room and a pink handprint blooms on Ning's skin. Ning's eyes go wide, her mouth falling open in a surprised little gasp, the bell jingling from the impact.

"Dirty little slut," Minjeong says evenly. "Acting all shy and innocent with your 'only twice.' You’re disgusting… and you know it. Only twice. Like a normal person's answer to that question isn't zero." She grabs Ning's chin and forces her to make eye contact. "But that's good. It means we can skip the boring part. Your greedy little asshole already knows how to open up for cock."

She releases Ning's chin and looks at you. That look. Commanding, certain, the look that turns her from a five-foot-nothing disaster lesbian into someone you'd follow off a cliff. "Get the lube."

You roll off the bed and cross to the dresser. Second drawer, left side, behind the silicone cleaning spray. You know where she keeps it because you've been here enough times to navigate this room blindfolded. You grab the bottle (water-based, good quality, Minjeong doesn't cheap out on essentials) and turn back toward the bed.

The position has already changed. Minjeong is lying on her back in the center of the mattress, the strap pointing straight up from between her hips. Ning is climbing on top of her, straddling her waist, their bodies pressing together. Ning's hands brace on either side of Minjeong's head. The bell dangles between them, brushing Minjeong's collarbone. Their faces are inches apart.

Minjeong reaches down and positions the head of the strap against Ning's entrance. Not inside. Just there. Resting against her slit, the tip nudging between her swollen lips. Ning's hips rock forward instinctively, trying to sink down, and Minjeong grabs her waist to stop her. "Not yet," she whispers. "Wait for it."

You climb onto the bed behind them, lube in hand. From this angle, Ning's ass is presented to you, round and full and perfect, the curve of it framing the view of Minjeong's strap pressed against her pussy below. Her thighs are spread wide across Minjeong's hips. Everything is on display.

Minjeong peers around Ning's shoulder at you, her expression calm and focused and completely in control of every variable in this room. "Get her ready.”

You pop the cap on the lube and squeeze a generous amount onto your fingers. It pools in your palm, clear and slick, and you start at the curve of Ning's ass, spreading it across both cheeks in slow strokes. Your palms glide over the full roundness of her, kneading gently, working the lube into her skin until it gleams under the lamplight. She shifts on top of Minjeong, her thighs tightening around the other girl's hips, and you feel the muscles in her glutes tense under your hands.

"Cold," Ning murmurs, a tremor running through her.

"I know,” Minjeong says. “Give it a second."

You bring your slicked fingers to the cleft of her ass and slide downward, finding the tight ring of muscle between her cheeks. You circle it slowly with the pad of your index finger, spreading the lubricant around the rim, letting her body register the sensation before you ask anything of it. Ning's breathing changes. Her shoulders hunch forward, her forehead dropping against Minjeong's collarbone, and beneath her you can see Minjeong's hand come up to stroke her hair.

You press the tip of your finger against her entrance. Gentle, patient pressure, not forcing, just resting there, letting the muscle relax on its own terms. It takes a few seconds. You feel the tension gradually release, the ring softening, and your fingertip slips inside to the first knuckle. Ning exhales shakily against Minjeong's chest. "There you go," you say quietly. "Just relax."

You work your finger deeper, inch by inch, feeling the heat of her, the tight grip of her walls around the digit. She's tense but yielding, her body fighting its own instincts and slowly winning. You pull back and push in again, a little deeper, establishing a gentle rhythm. When she's comfortable with one finger, you add a second, scissoring them apart carefully, stretching her open with methodical patience. Ning whimpers into Minjeong's neck, her hips rocking back against your hand in tiny, involuntary movements.

"She likes it," Minjeong observes from below, watching your fingers disappear into Ning's ass. Her free hand traces lazy patterns on Ning's spine. "Look at her pushing back onto your fingers. Greedy even here."

You work her for another minute, making sure she's properly relaxed, properly slicked. Then you withdraw your fingers and squeeze more lube onto your palm, wrapping your fist around your cock and stroking it from base to tip until the entire shaft glistens. You wipe the excess across Ning's entrance one more time for good measure.

You position yourself behind Ning, one hand on her hip, the other guiding your cock to her ass. The head presses against the ring of muscle, warm and slick, and you hold there. "Tell me if it hurts," you say. "Or if you need me to slow down. Any time."

Ning nods against Minjeong's chest, her fingers gripping the sheets on either side of Minjeong's shoulders.

"He likes you a lot," Minjeong tells Ning softly, brushing her lips against Ning's temple. "He's not usually this gentle."

Ning turns her head, catching your eye over her shoulder. "You're very thoughtful."

"Someone here has to be," you reply, glancing at Minjeong.

"Excuse me, I am extremely thoughtful. I gave her a collar."

You push forward. Slowly. The head of your cock meets resistance and you maintain steady pressure, not thrusting, just leaning into it, letting her body decide the pace. The ring stretches around the tip, tight and gripping, and Ning's breath catches. Her fingers dig into the mattress. You pause.

"Keep going," she whispers.

You push deeper. The same patience you used with your fingers, feeding your cock into the impossibly tight heat of her ass while her body opens for you in gradual, reluctant increments. She's burning hot inside, tighter than anything, and the pressure around your shaft is almost overwhelming. You grit your teeth and go slow, watching the place where your body meets hers, watching her stretch around you.

Beneath her, Minjeong reaches down and guides the strap to Ning's pussy. She tilts her hips and pushes upward, and the head of the silicone cock slides between Ning's swollen lips and into her cunt at the same moment that you sink another inch into her ass.

Ning releases a guttural, fractured cry that wavers between a sob and a moan, her muscles locking as both holes fill simultaneously. Her mouth opens against Minjeong's collarbone and she just breathes, fast and shallow, processing the fullness.

"Oh my god," she chokes out. "Oh my god, I can feel both of you. I can feel everything."

"Breathe," Minjeong tells her, cupping the back of her head. "Just breathe, kitten."

You hold still, buried halfway in Ning's ass, giving her time. Minjeong holds still beneath her, the strap seated partway in her pussy. The three of you exist in a suspended moment of absolute fullness, nobody moving, just breathing together, letting Ning's body adjust to being stretched in two places at once.

Then Ning rolls her hips. Barely perceptible, just a tiny rocking motion, testing, and the sensation ripples through all three of you. You feel the shift in pressure as the strap moves inside her pussy, separated from your cock by only a thin wall of tissue, and the indirect contact through her body sends a jolt through your shaft that makes your jaw clench.

"More," Ning whispers. You push the rest of the way in. Slow, steady, until your hips press flush against her ass. At the same time, Minjeong rocks upward, seating the strap fully in Ning's cunt. Ning is pinned between the two of you, every inch of both holes filled, her small body stretched and stuffed and sandwiched between your chest and Minjeong's. "Fuck," Ning breathes. "Fuck, that's so much. It's so much."

"Too much?" you ask.

"No. Don't stop. Don't you dare stop."

You start to move. Slow, careful, pulling back a few inches and pressing forward again. Minjeong finds a counter-rhythm beneath you both, thrusting upward as you withdraw, so that Ning is never empty, always full of one of you, the two cocks alternating inside her in a steady, rocking cadence. The thin membrane separating your shaft from the strap means you can feel every stroke Minjeong makes, a firm pressure sliding against you through Ning's body, and the sensation is dizzying.

Ning is lost. Her face is buried in Minjeong's neck, her hips moving in helpless, undulating waves between the two of you, taking each thrust from behind and each upstroke from below. The bell on her collar chimes with every rock of her body. Her moans are continuous now, not sharp peaks but a sustained, low, trembling sound that vibrates in her chest.

"Can you feel him in your ass while I'm in your pussy?" Minjeong murmurs against Ning's ear, her hips rolling in smooth, controlled strokes. "Can you feel both of us moving inside you at the same time? Filling you up from both sides?"

"Yes," Ning gasps. "I feel everything. I feel you rubbing against each other through me. It's so full, I've never been this full, I can't think."

"You don't need to think. I told you that already. Thinking is not what you're here for." Minjeong thrusts upward, sharp, and Ning cries out. "You're here to take two cocks at once like the greedy little hole you are and say thank you when we're done."

You increase your pace slightly, your strokes lengthening, pulling back further before pushing in. Ning's ass grips you with every movement, the lube making the slide smooth but the tightness still staggering, her body clenching and releasing around your shaft in rhythmic pulses that sync with Minjeong's thrusts below. You grip Ning's hips, thumbs pressing into the dimples at the base of her spine, and settle into a steady, driving tempo.

"Look at her taking it," Minjeong says, and there's genuine awe underneath the domination. She cranes her neck to look past Ning's shoulder at you, watching your cock disappear into Ning's ass on every stroke. "Both holes stuffed and she's still begging for more. I knew it. I knew the second I saw her that she was built for this."

Ning whimpers in response, her nails scratching at the sheets beside Minjeong's head. Her back arches, pressing her chest harder against Minjeong's, their nipples sliding together with each thrust. The position keeps her pinned, unable to control anything, unable to set the pace, simply trapped between two bodies that are using her in tandem. And she loves it. Every line of her body broadcasts it, the way she pushes back onto you, the way she grinds down onto Minjeong, the way her moans have taken on a pitch that borders on delirium.

You lean forward, changing the angle, and Ning screams. Your cock hits deeper, pressing against spots that make her entire body jolt, and at the same time Minjeong adjusts beneath her, angling the strap upward, finding her g-spot through her front wall. Ning is caught between the two points of pressure, her body jerking and spasming.

"That's our good kitten," Minjeong coos, holding Ning's trembling body against hers, one hand in her hair, the other gripping her ass, pulling her cheeks apart so you can thrust deeper. "Taking both her owners so well. So stretched. So full. So perfectly, obscenely stuffed. Now mark her," she says, looking past Ning's shoulder at you. "I want prints on her."

You bring your palm down on Ning's right cheek. The crack splits the air and Ning yelps, her whole body clenching, her ass tightening around your cock so hard your vision blurs for a second. A pink handprint blooms on her skin, vivid against the pale flesh.

"Again," Minjeong orders. "Leave her tight little ass completely red. I want it glowing."

You smack her left cheek. Then the right again. Then the left. Each impact sends a shockwave through Ning's body that you feel in the grip of her ass around your shaft, each clench followed by a release that lets you thrust deeper. Her skin flushes from pink to angry red, overlapping handprints layering on top of each other until both cheeks are burning, swollen, marked in a way that's going to last for days.

Ning screams into Minjeong's neck with every slap, her body jolting forward, then rocking back onto your cock like she's chasing the sting. "Tell me what you are," Minjeong demands. She grabs a fistful of Ning's hair and pulls her head up, forcing her face out of hiding. "Loud. So I can hear it."

"I'm a whore," Ning shouts. Her face is streaked with fresh tears, mascara long gone, nothing left but raw skin and swollen lips and wild, desperate eyes. "I'm a dirty little whore."

"The neighbors are going to hear you screaming that."

"I don't care." Ning's hips grind back against you, then forward onto Minjeong, her body working between the two cocks with frantic, shameless need. "I don't care if they hear. I want everyone to know. I want the whole building to know I'm a whore. That Minjeong is my owner. That I belong to her."

Minjeong's hand slides from Ning's hair to her throat. Not squeezing, not choking. Just holding. Her fingers wrap around the column of Ning's neck, feeling the collar beneath her palm, the bell pressing into the webbing between her thumb and index finger. She tilts Ning's face down until their eyes meet.

"Look at me," Minjeong says. Quiet now, almost tender. "Don't close your eyes. Don't look away. I want you to cum while you're looking at me. I want to see it happen."

Ning's gaze locks onto Minjeong's. Inches apart, sharing breath, Minjeong's hand steady on her throat. The bell is trapped between Minjeong's fingers and Ning's skin, silent for the first time.

You fuck her harder. Deep, punishing strokes into her ass, each one landing with a wet smack against her reddened cheeks, your fingers digging into her bruised hips. Minjeong thrusts upward in counterpoint, the strap filling Ning's pussy on every alternating beat, the two of you working her body in a relentless, coordinated rhythm that leaves her nowhere to go, nothing to do except take it and feel it and fall apart.

Ning's lips start trembling. Her breathing fractures into staccato bursts, each exhale a whimper, each inhale a gasp. Her thighs shake uncontrollably against Minjeong's hips. Her fingers claw at the sheets, the mattress, Minjeong's shoulders, anything she can reach. The tension builds visibly in her body, every muscle drawing taut, her stomach clenching, her jaw tightening, her eyes going glassy and unfocused even as she fights to keep them locked on Minjeong's face.

"That's it," Minjeong whispers, her thumb stroking the side of Ning's throat. "Right there. Let go for me. Let me see it." It hits her from both directions at once. You feel it in her ass first, a clamping, rhythmic contraction that grips your cock so tight you have to grit your teeth, her muscles spasming in rapid pulses. Then Minjeong gasps beneath her as Ning's pussy does the same thing around the strap, both holes clenching simultaneously in waves that roll through her body like seismic aftershocks.

Ning's mouth opens. No sound comes out for a full two seconds. Her back arches, rigid, suspended between the two of you, every tendon in her neck standing out beneath Minjeong's hand. Then the scream comes. Low at first, building, ragged and destroyed and raw, her eyes never leaving Minjeong's face even as her body convulses between them. Tears spill freely down her cheeks. Her hips jerk and stutter in helpless, broken movements. Fluid gushes from around the strap, soaking Minjeong's thighs and the sheets beneath them.

The orgasm goes on and on. Each time you think it's subsiding, another wave hits her, another contraction grips you, another cry tears from her throat. Minjeong holds her gaze through all of it, steady and anchoring, her hand warm and firm on Ning's throat, grounding her through the most intense thing her body has ever experienced.

When it finally ends, Ning collapses. Completely, boneless, every ounce of energy drained, her full weight dropping onto Minjeong's chest. Her cheek presses against Minjeong's collarbone. Her eyes close. Her breathing is ragged, hitching, edging toward sobs. Minjeong wraps both arms around her. Pulls her close. One hand cradles the back of her head, fingers threading gently through her tangled, sweat-damp hair. The other rests flat between her shoulder blades, palm warm against her spine. She presses her lips to Ning's temple and holds them there.

"Good girl," she murmurs into Ning's hair. "Such a good girl. My perfect little kitten. You did so well. I'm so proud of you."

Ning makes a small, broken sound against Minjeong's chest. Her fingers curl weakly into the sheets beside Minjeong's ribs, holding on. You pull out of Ning slowly, carefully, and her body shudders once at the withdrawal. Her reddened ass bears overlapping handprints in various shades of crimson, the skin hot to the touch. You sit back and exhale.

"I'm close," you tell Minjeong.

She looks at you over Ning's shoulder. "Stand up."

You climb off the bed, your feet finding the floor, and stand at the edge of the mattress. Minjeong gently lifts Ning off her chest, easing her upward, pressing kisses to her forehead, her cheek, the tip of her nose.

"One more thing, kitten." She strokes Ning's face. "Can you kneel for me? On the floor?"

Ning blinks, still dazed, still trembling in the afterglow. She nods faintly. Minjeong helps her to the edge of the bed and Ning slides off, her knees finding the carpet, settling into that familiar position. On the floor, between your legs, looking up at you and Minjeong with glazed, wrecked, adoring eyes. The collar gleams at her throat. Minjeong slips off the bed and kneels beside her, one arm draped around Ning's shoulders, both of them looking up at you from the floor.

"Now," Minjeong says, settling beside Ning on her knees, one arm still draped protectively across her shoulders, "my kitten gets her reward." She looks up at you, then at Ning, then at your cock standing hard and slick inches from both their faces. "Warm milk. All over that pretty face and tongue." She runs her fingertip along Ning's jaw, turning her head to face your shaft. "You must be starving, baby. You've worked so hard tonight. Been such a good little pet. So you're going to suck that cock until he gives you every drop. And I'm going to help."

Minjeong leans forward first. Her lips close around the head of your cock, warm and soft, her tongue swirling once before she pulls back and guides Ning in. Ning's mouth replaces hers, those swollen, raw lips stretching around your shaft, taking you halfway in a single smooth stroke. She bobs twice, sloppy and eager, spit already building, and then pulls back as Minjeong moves in again.

They find a rhythm. Ning takes you deep while Minjeong's tongue works the base, licking the underside of your shaft where Ning's lips can't reach. Then they switch. Minjeong sucks the head while Ning drops lower, pressing her mouth against your balls, her tongue dragging across the sensitive skin, taking one into her mouth and sucking gently while Minjeong bobs above her.

Then their mouths meet at the tip. Ning's tongue presses flat against one side of the head, Minjeong's against the other, and they lick upward in unison, their tongues meeting at the slit, sliding against each other with your cock trapped between them. The contact dissolves into a kiss. Minjeong's hand cups the back of Ning's head and they kiss around the head of your cock, tongues tangling together, lips brushing the sensitive ridge, spit and precum smearing between their mouths in a connected, glistening mess. The bell on Ning's collar chimes softly as she tilts her head to deepen the angle.

"You two are perfect together," you manage.

Minjeong breaks the kiss and looks up at you, a strand of spit connecting her lip to Ning's. She smiles. Then she turns to Ning and presses one last, lingering kiss against her mouth. Slow, tender, her thumb stroking Ning's cum-stained cheek. "I want the best seat in the house for this," she murmurs against Ning's lips.

She stands. Her bare feet pad around behind you and you feel her chest press against your back, her chin hooking over your shoulder, her arms winding around your torso from behind. One hand slides down your stomach and wraps around your cock, slick from both their mouths, her grip firm, practiced and exactly right.

Below you, Ning kneels alone. She tilts her face up, mouth open, the collar gleaming, and extends her tongue to press against your frenulum. Just the tip of her tongue, light, flickering, the most sensitive spot on your entire body being teased with delicate, maddening precision while Minjeong's fist works the shaft from behind.

"Look at her," Minjeong whispers against your ear, her breath hot on your neck. "Look at that face. That gorgeous, ruined, perfect face. Mascara destroyed. Lips swollen. And she's kneeling there begging for more. She deserves to be painted. She deserves every single drop you've got."

Her hand strokes you steadily, twisting slightly at the top, her thumb swiping over the head on each upstroke before Ning's tongue catches the underside again. Minjeong's other hand rests on your hip, her nails pressing lightly into your skin.

"Imagine what she's going to look like," Minjeong continues, her lips brushing the shell of your ear. "Thick ropes of cum across those cheekbones. Dripping off her chin. Pooling on that pretty tongue. Sliding down to the collar. My collared little cum dump covered in you while I watch."

Ning's tongue flutters against the frenulum and she pulls back just enough to speak, her lips still brushing the head of your cock. "Please. I want it. I've been good, I've been so good tonight, please give it to me. I want to taste it. I want to feel it land on me."

"Hear that?" Minjeong's hand quickens. Her strokes tighten, pumping your shaft with urgent, focused precision, her wrist snapping on the downstroke. "Your little kitten is begging. She's starving for it. Starving for your cum on her pretty face."

Ning opens wider, her tongue extended as far as it'll go, flat and waiting. "Please, please, please. Cum on me. Cover me. I'll swallow everything, I'll lick it all up, please, I need it."

"Give it to her," Minjeong breathes. "Cum all over her fucking face. Do it. Now."

"I'm close," you grit out, your abs clenching, your thighs locking.

Ning stays perfectly still, kneeling, tongue out, eyes open, looking up at you with those glassy, adoring, wrecked eyes. Minjeong aims your cock directly at her face from behind your hip, angling the head downward, her grip controlling exactly where every drop is going to land.

You break. The first rope fires thick and hot across Ning's cheek, a white streak from the corner of her mouth to her temple. Ning flinches at the impact and then holds still, mouth open wider, and the second shot lands directly on her tongue, heavy and warm, pooling in the center. Minjeong doesn't stop stroking. Her fist milks your shaft in relentless, squeezing pumps, coaxing everything out of you, and the third rope catches Ning's forehead, dripping down the bridge of her nose. The fourth hits her chin and slides down to the collar, catching in the leather, dripping off the bell. The fifth and sixth are weaker, oozing from the tip, and Minjeong aims them across Ning's lips, painting them white, smearing the head of your cock across her mouth to spread the last traces.

"Oh fuck," Minjeong exhales against your shoulder, watching her handiwork. "Look at that. Look at her. She's covered. She's absolutely covered."

Ning kneels there, face glazed, tongue still extended with a thick pool of cum sitting in the center. It streaks across her features like abstract art, white against flushed skin, dripping slowly down the contours of her face, following the paths of the dried tears and mascara tracks. The collar glistens with it. A drop hangs from the bell, catching the light before it falls.

Minjeong pushes your cock forward, guiding the sensitive, spent head between Ning's lips. "Clean him up, kitten."

Ning closes her mouth around the tip and sucks gently. You shudder, every nerve ending screaming with oversensitivity, your hands gripping Minjeong's arm around your waist for stability. Ning's tongue swirls around the head, dipping into the slit, coaxing the last remnants of cum from you with patient, thorough attention. She sucks and licks and swallows, her throat bobbing, until there's nothing left and your cock is clean and twitching in her mouth.

She releases you with a soft, wet sound and looks up, waiting. Cum still covers most of her face, drying at the edges, fresh and wet in the center. Minjeong steps out from behind you and kneels in front of Ning. She takes Ning's face in both hands, cupping her jaw, tilting her head left, then right, examining her. Her thumbs rest on Ning's cheekbones, framing the mess, and a slow, reverent smile spreads across her face. "Perfect," she whispers. "You're absolutely perfect."

She leans in and presses her tongue flat against Ning's forehead. The first lick drags through the streak of cum there, collecting it. She pulls back, swallows, and goes in again. Across Ning's temple, where the first rope landed, her tongue tracing the line from hairline to cheekbone, gathering every trace. Ning's eyes close. A soft, contented sigh escapes her as Minjeong's tongue moves down to her cheek, lapping at the thick smear there with long, patient strokes, cleaning the skin beneath to a flushed, spit-shined pink.

Minjeong works methodically. She licks across the bridge of Ning's nose, down the other cheek, along her jawline where a trickle has dried. Her tongue finds the corner of Ning's mouth and traces the crease where cum has settled into her smile lines. She licks Ning's chin clean, her tongue pressing into the soft dip beneath her lower lip, following the trail down to the collar where the last drops cling to leather and metal. She licks the collar itself, her tongue running along the strap, over the surface of the bell, tasting salt, cum and Ning's skin all at once.

Ning stays still through all of it, eyes closed, face tilted up, surrendering to the sensation of being cleaned by the woman who owns her. Small tremors run through her body. Her hands rest limp in her lap. When Minjeong finishes, Ning's face is clean. Flushed and raw and still marked with the ghosts of mascara, but clean.

Minjeong tilts Ning's cleaned face toward hers and kisses her. Her mouth opens, and you watch the moment Ning realizes what's happening. Minjeong is pushing the collected cum from her own tongue into Ning's mouth, feeding it to her in a slow transfer. Ning makes a small, surprised sound and then melts into it, her hand finding Minjeong's and their fingers lacing together on Ning's bare thigh. They stay like that for a long moment, mouths connected, sharing the taste between them, Ning swallowing in small pulses while Minjeong's thumb strokes circles against the back of her hand.

When they finally break apart, Ning licks her lips and Minjeong presses her forehead against hers, both of them breathing, both of them quiet. You sit on the edge of the bed. The room is wrecked. The sheets are wrecked. Everyone in the room is wrecked.

"That," you say to the ceiling, "was a very intense night."

"Understatement," Minjeong murmurs, still forehead-to-forehead with Ning.

Ning lets out a shaky exhale that's half laugh, half disbelief. "Everything happened so fast. Like, two hours ago I was looking for my keys."

"And now look at you."

"Please don't make me look at me right now." Ning shifts on her knees, winces, and glances toward the hallway. "Can we take a bath? I need... water. Hot water. On my body. Immediately."

"Yeah," you agree.

"Absolutely," Minjeong says, finally pulling back from Ning's face. She stands, offering Ning both hands, and Ning takes them.

Getting up is a process. Her legs wobble on the first attempt, her knees buckling, and Minjeong catches her around the waist with a steadiness that suggests she's done post-sex stabilization before (she has, for you, twice). Ning finds her footing on the second try, standing on shaking legs, one hand gripping Minjeong's shoulder.

Minjeong looks back at the bed. The sheets are destroyed. Soaked through in multiple overlapping patches of various fluids, twisted into ropes at the corners where someone (everyone) was gripping them, the fitted sheet pulled halfway off the mattress. A pillow has migrated to the floor. The handcuffs dangle from the headboard slat, still open. The smeared remnants of red lipstick have transferred onto the fabric in abstract streaks. The lube bottle is on its side, cap off, a small puddle forming on the nightstand.

"I'm going to have to replace literally everything. The sheets, the mattress protector, possibly the mattress. This looks like a crime scene."

"A fun crime scene," you offer.

Ning looks down at herself and goes very still. Her stomach is sticky with dried residue (sweat, spit, squirt, cum, all mixed together in various combinations). The ghost of the lipstick letters still clings to her skin in faded red traces. Her knees are raw and red from the carpet, the skin irritated and tender. She turns slightly and cranes her neck to look at her own ass, and her eyes go wide. "Oh my god."

It's crimson. Both cheeks overlapping with handprints in varying shades of red, some of them clearly defined (fingers, palm, thumb) and others just general swelling from repeated impact.

"Oh my god," Ning repeats, touching her own cheek gingerly and flinching. "That's so red."

Minjeong's dominance evaporates instantly, she rushes over and examines the marks with careful fingers, barely touching, her brow furrowed. "Are you okay? I have a really good moisturizing cream, it's the one with shea butter and aloe, I can put it on your knees and your... everything after the bath. It helps with inflammation."

"I'm fine." Ning gives her a lopsided smile. "Just a little sore. Everywhere. In places I didn't know could be sore."

Minjeong takes her hand and leads her down the hallway to the bathroom, walking slowly, matching Ning's careful pace. You follow. The bathroom is small but clean (the cleanest room in the apartment at this point, by default). Ning catches her reflection in the mirror above the sink and stops dead. She stares at herself.

The mascara is gone. Not removed. Migrated. It's spread across her temples, under her eyes, down her cheeks in dried tracks that map every tear she shed tonight. Her foundation is patchy and streaked. Her lipstick dissolved hours ago. Her hair is a tangled, matted disaster. The collar still sits around her throat. Faint red marks circle both wrists from the handcuffs. Her entire body from the neck down glistens with a cocktail of everything the three of you produced tonight. "Holy shit," Ning whispers at her own reflection. "You two really used me."

Minjeong, standing behind Ning, locks eyes with you in the mirror. She's trying not to freak out. Trying so hard. Her lips are pressed together, her nostrils are flared, and her hand reaches out and grabs your bicep in a death grip, her nails digging in. She squeezes your arm so hard you almost yelp, and behind Ning's back she's suppressing a grin so enormous it looks physically painful to contain.

You give her a subtle nod. She releases your arm (there will be half-moon nail marks there tomorrow) and composes herself. Minjeong turns the shower on. She adjusts the handle, testing the temperature with her wrist, nudging it warmer until steam starts curling against the glass, then helps Ning step in first. Ning moves under the stream and the hot water hits her shoulders and she lets out a groan of relief that borders on spiritual. The collar's bell catches the water and glints.

"Should I take this off?" Ning asks, touching it.

"Only if you want to."

Ning considers. "I'll keep it on."

Minjeong's face does the thing again (the barely suppressed joy, the disbelief) and she steps in behind Ning, pressing close under the spray. You get in last, and the three of you fit in the shower the way three adults fit in a standard shower stall, which is to say barely, with a lot of rotating and someone always catching an elbow and everyone taking turns directly under the water.

Minjeong washes Ning. Carefully. She squeezes eucalyptus wash onto a soft cloth and runs it over Ning's shoulders in slow, gentle strokes, working down her arms, across her chest, rinsing each section under the stream before moving to the next. She handles the raw spots (knees, wrists, the reddened cheeks of her ass) with extra tenderness, barely any pressure, just warm water and soft fabric. When she gets to Ning's hair, she reaches for a specific bottle on the shelf. You recognize it immediately.

"Is that the expensive shampoo?"

Minjeong doesn't look at you. "Maybe."

"The one you specifically told me I'm never allowed to use?"

"It's for her hair type."

"My hair has a type too, Minjeong."

"Your hair has the type of 'use the two-in-one like everyone else.'" She squeezes a generous amount into her palm and begins working it through Ning's hair, massaging her scalp with her fingertips. Ning practically purrs under the attention, her eyes closed, her body leaning back into Minjeong's hands, the hot water rinsing the suds down her back in slow cascades.

After the shower, Minjeong wraps Ning in the fluffiest bathrobe in the apartment. She sits Ning on the closed toilet lid and dries her hair with a blow dryer, one hand running through the strands while the other directs the warm air, sectioning and smoothing with the attention of a salon professional.

You lean against the doorframe, towel around your waist, watching this. "I've never received this level of service."

"And you never will. Be grateful I'm still willing to give you water."

"Noted."

Once Ning's hair is dry and soft and falling in clean waves around her face, you and Minjeong put on some clothes, then she leads Ning to the kitchen.

"Tea," she announces, filling the kettle. "After all that, we need tea."

"You're so Korean," you say.

"And you're so annoying. What do you want?"

"Mint."

Minjeong looks at Ning, who has settled onto a kitchen stool with the careful movements of someone whose entire lower body is filing complaints. "Chamomile, please."

With the calm precision of habit, Minjeong fixes three cups. She opens a cabinet and pulls out a tin of butter cookies, the classic round one straight out of a grandmother’s kitchen, then sets it down on the counter.

The three of you drink tea and eat cookies in the kitchen of apartment 69 at (you check the microwave clock) eleven forty-seven on a weeknight. Ning is in a fluffy bathrobe with a collar and bell around her neck. Minjeong is in an old t-shirt and fresh shorts. You're in your jeans and nothing else.

Minjeong wraps both hands around her mug. Stares into the tea. Takes a breath. "So, Ning."

"So, Minjeong."

"Would you... do you want to go on a date with me? Tomorrow?" She says it quickly, her eyes fixed on the surface of her chamomile. "Like, dinner. Or coffee. Or whatever you want. Something normal. Where we wear clothes and sit across from each other and talk."

Ning smiles. "I'd really like that."

Minjeong exhales. You watch the tension drain from her shoulders in real time, weeks of anxiety dissolving in a single sentence.

Ning shakes her head slowly, laughing at herself.

"I still can't believe I did all that. With two people I barely knew three hours ago. I'm... I mean, I was going to watch Gossip Girl. I was going to make instant ramen and watch Gossip Girl and go to sleep at midnight like a normal person. And instead I got..." She gestures at everything: the collar, the bathrobe, the cookie in her hand, the entire trajectory of the evening.

"Any regrets?" Minjeong asks.

"Zero. Absolutely zero." Ning dunks her cookie in her tea and takes a bite. "I'm just realizing I might be a much more adventurous person than I thought."

Minjeong nibbles the edge of her own cookie. "I hope it wasn't too much. For a first time. I know I can be... a lot. I was so excited and nervous simultaneously and when I get like that I tend to just go and go and go and I should have checked in more and..."

"Minjeong."

"Yeah?"

"It was too much. But in the best way. Like, you took sex and turned it into something I didn't know existed. I didn't know it could feel like that. I didn't know I could feel like that."

Minjeong stares at her cookie with an expression of concentrated joy that she's trying very hard to play cool about. Ning takes another sip of chamomile, and then, very quietly, looking at the counter rather than at either of you, says, "Also, I think I want to try having two... you know. Both of you. In the same... in one..." She trails off. Covers her face with both hands. The bell jingles. "Oh my god, I can't believe I'm saying this out loud. Both of you at the same time. In my pussy. Together." She peeks through her fingers. "I think I might die if that actually happened, but I want to try."

Minjeong is gripping her mug so hard her knuckles are white. "We can absolutely make that happen. Yeah."

"But more than anything," Ning continues, setting her tea down. She reaches across the counter and takes Minjeong's hand, threading their fingers together slowly. "I want to get to know you better." She rubs her thumb across Minjeong's knuckles. "When I first moved in, you were this mystery to me. The girl from 69 who I'd catch glimpses of in the hallway and then she'd just... vanish. I kept thinking, is she shy? Does she hate me? Is she a ghost? I genuinely considered the ghost option for a minute."

Minjeong opens her mouth to respond and nothing comes out.

"I'd listen for your door," Ning admits. "I'd hear it open and I'd rush to my peephole hoping to catch you leaving so I could time my exit and accidentally run into you. And every single time, by the time I got my shoes on, you were gone."

"I move fast when I'm panicking," Minjeong says quietly.

"I figured that out tonight." Ning squeezes her hand. "I started thinking maybe I'd never get to talk to you. That you'd just be this beautiful, weird, untouchable person two doors down who I'd think about way more than was reasonable. And now I'm sitting in your kitchen wearing your bathrobe and your collar and I know what sound you make when you cum, but I don't know your favorite movie. Or what makes you laugh. Or what you eat for breakfast. And I want all of that. Every boring, normal detail.”

They look at each other across the kitchen counter, and the bell chimes once as Ning leans in, and they kiss. Gentle, slow, tasting like chamomile and butter cookies.

You finish your mint tea. Set the mug in the sink. Pick up the last cookie from the tin and take a bite. "I'm going to head out," you say. "You two have a lot to talk about."

Minjeong breaks the kiss and stands from her stool. She walks over to you and takes your hand in both of hers, squeezing. "Thank you," she says. "For real. This wouldn't have happened without you. I'd still be hiding behind that plant if you hadn't dragged me into my own life."

"You absolutely would be."

"I know. That's why I'm thanking you."

Ning hops off her stool (winces slightly upon landing), walks over, and presses a kiss to your cheek. Her lips are warm from the tea. "That was really sweet of you. Setting all this up. Being so considerate through everything. You're a good person."

"I'm an okay person who was heavily incentivized."

Ning laughs. "Still."

You pull on your shirt, then the shoes, find your jacket on the couch (right where you left it approximately a lifetime ago), and head for the door. You stop with your hand on the knob and look back at them. Minjeong has her arm around Ning's waist, and Ning is leaning into her, and they look like something that was always supposed to happen and just needed a minor logistical push.

"Just remember to invite me back," you say. "There's apparently a lot of unfinished business."

Minjeong and Ning exchange a knowing glance. "Oh, we're definitely calling you," Minjeong says. "There's still a lot to be done. I have an entire drawer we didn't even open tonight. And I'm going to need your... assistance."

"The drawer you won't tell me about?"

"That drawer stays classified until the appropriate time."

Ning waves from under Minjeong's arm. "Come back soon."

"I will." You open the door and step into the hallway. The sad little fern sits in its pot by the wall, oblivious to its role in the evening's origin story. "Good luck, you two. Goodnight."

You close the door behind you and stand in the hallway for a second, listening. Through the door, muffled, you hear Ning say something and Minjeong laugh. It’s unfiltered. Effortless. So different from the composed, dry version she shows the world.

But here you are now, and it’s exactly how people described it. Students filling every walkway. Booths lined up along the paths, some with disco lights strung overhead as the sky darkens. Everything trying to overlap each other from different directions–bass booming from the main stage from afar, students singing somewhere nearby, food sizzling, oil crackling, people stopping randomly, laughing too loudly and calling out to each other. Late spring breeze cuts through the night, cool against your skin.

Maybe it’s not as suffocating as you thought it’d be. At some point, you feel the corner of your lips pulling upward on its own, even just for a second. This isn’t that bad-

"See? I told you."

Her gentle laugh rings right next to you, light and teasing. She’s been walking next to you the whole time, a wide grin on her face as you look her way.

"Um… not bad."

She scoffs and nudges your arm with her elbow.

"Yah… not bad? You’re seriously missing out on a lot!"

"Really?" you smile after giving a quiet sigh. "It’s not that magical, Jimin-ah."

"It is." she nudges you again, though a little more firmer this time. "I can’t believe you’ve never been to one of these before."

"I mean… I’ve been to high school ones." you look at the crowd ahead. "But it didn’t really feel the same. I just kind of hung out with my friends for a bit. Didn’t help that they all had girlfriends and I was… you know. Just there."

Jimin only hums softly. When you turn your head over, she’s now walking with her hands clasped behind her back, head tilted as she looks at you with quiet curiosity.

"Mmm, so you didn’t have a girlfriend." she nods slowly, putting pieces together. "Like, actually… ever?"

You raise an eyebrow at her, not annoyed, only a little surprised that she hasn’t figured it all out yet.

"You didn’t know?"

Jimin’s expression changes almost instantly. She straightens, hands slipping from behind her back.

"Ah- wait, I-" she waves denying gestures quickly "Sorry, I didn’t mean to- No, if that sounded weird or anything, I just-"

You only laugh and shake your head.

"It’s okay, relax. I don’t really think much about it."

Jimin still looks a little unsure, her eyebrows pulling together slightly, her lips almost pouting as she mumbles.

"Still… I might’ve said it in a weird way."

"It’s really fine, Jimin-ah." you reassure her. "I thought it was kind of obvious anyway."

"Mm?"

"With how the sunbaes kept teasing me and trying to set me up on blind dates all the time. Isn’t it, like, so obvious?"

Jimin pauses for a second, the memories replaying in her head. She turns to you more fully as she walks, mouth slowly taking shape of a wide O as realization hits her.

"Wait! Wait!" she finally says. "You mean those times they kept dragging you away after meetings?! That wasn’t just them messing with you?"

"Not really."

"They were seriously setting you up?" She repeats the question. Is it that hard to believe that you haven’t ever had a girlfriend?

"Yes… Is it that weird?"

Jimin keeps staring at you before a soft laugh escapes her lips. She looks ahead as you both keep walking, amusement written all over her face.

"Wah… And you keep denying them, time after time."

"I dunno. I don't think I’m in the right… how do you say it, position? Uhh, position to date right now."

Jimin turns back to you, those bubbly eyes of hers make it seem like she’s really studying you before she presses her lips together.

"You’re a weird kid, you know that?" she decides, pointing at you with those short dinosaurs-like fingers. You haven’t known her for that long yet you’ve already noticed it. That weird, goofy tendency of hers. The way her humor lands a little off earth sometimes, and it doesn’t quite match how she looks yet somehow, it only makes her more attractive. The thought puffs a sudden short laugh out of you as your hand comes up without much thinking, lightly catching her wrist, lowering her finger from pointing at you.

"Thank you. I’ve heard it a lot."

Jimin giggles, her wrist showing only a little bit of resistance before finally slipping away.

"Weird kid. Weird."

You both wander deeper into the festival. Booths are all bumping past on either side with bright signs, students calling out and trying to lure you in with free samples. A group of students nearby huddle around a small stage, singing along to the whatever edition of the university chant. Jimin seems to be amazed by all of it. She points things out as you go, commentating and talking to herself mostly.

"Ah, that one looks fun! Wait, wait… No, that’s just a scam," she stops immediately, wrinkling her nose. A few seconds later, she’s already distracted again, tugging your shirt to get your attention. "Look, look! They have free cotton candy over there!"

You always nod along, already pleased with letting her lead the rhythm of it. After a moment, curiosity gets the better of you.

"Jimin-ah, what about you? Ever had a boyfriend? …or girlfriend?" you finally spit the question out after thinking it through. "Or, you know… I don’t discriminate. I, uh… love people all the same, just so you know."

Jimin stops dead in her tracks.

"Aeng?"

She takes a small step back and really blinks at you. Then suddenly, Jimin bursts into laughter with her hands covering her mouth.

"What-" she struggles between laughs. "What’s wrong with you!? Really!?" 

Her laughter’s bright and bubbly, even attracting glances from people walking by. You can’t help but smile, relieved that she doesn’t take it the wrong way.

"What? It could happen, for all I know," you shrug. "You’re super popular on campus! Guys and girls all like you, Yu Jimin."

Jimin bends, one hand braced on her knee as her laughter spills out, her shoulders shaking. When she finally looks up at you, her cheeks are almost bright pink under the festival lights. Damn, you really make her laugh. Just when you’re preparing to say something else, she steps in and gives your chest a light punch with that small dinosaur-like fist.

"…Yah. What are you even saying!?"

You bite back a laugh, rubbing the spot just for the sake of it.

"I mean, is it wrong for a guy to try and be respectful?"

Jimin gives one last breathy laugh before reaching out and grabbing the sleeve of your shirt, pulling you forward so you both start walking again.

"No, idiot. I appreciate all the feelings," she smiles, "but no, I don’t swing that way. And yes. I did have a boyfriend back in high school if you’re wondering."

"Ah… I see."

You let her pull you along without resistance. In no time, Jimin shifts closer swiftly, looping her arm through yours. Her hand settles around your bicep, barely pressing. You try not to think much of it but… Is this intentional? The distance between you disappears when her grip tightens only a little around your bicep.

"But… it didn’t last long. I hated that guy."

"Hmm? Why?"

The noise of the festival fills the silence between you for a second when Jimin doesn’t give her answer. Her steps slow just a little and that’s when you know, maybe you shouldn’t have asked. You awkwardly steal a glance at her before looking ahead again.

"I was stupid back then," Jimin finally hums. "I thought love was super fun and all rainbow, you know. Dramas raised me like that."

You nod and Jimin sighs, only a light breath.

"How do I say it? Mmm, the jerk confessed to me on a school trip. Our friends even recorded the whole thing. I said yes… Then like a month in, I found out it was just a bet. Between him and his friends."

You clear your throat quietly, not knowing what to say.

"Ah… I- Sorry. I shouldn’t have asked."

"It’s okay. It’s just an experience, I guess. At least I know what to do when guys start acting weird now."

"Right. So what about uni then? I mean… I know you’re, like, super popular."

Jimin immediately rolls her eyes. "Yah, not like that."

You smile a little.

"Your Instagram has, what? Ten thousand followers? I bet you get like a thousand DMs every day."

"Yes, but I only use it for memories and… work stuff," she says, scrunching her nose. Cute. "All the DMs are just- ugh. I hate it. Some guys seriously don’t know their limits."

"…Right." you nod. "They don’t."

You still walk. Then she turns to you suddenly, eyes suspicious.

"Also… you, weirdo."

You hum out of surprise, that silly nickname she’s given you just ten minutes ago is now starting to grow on you.

"You barely have anything on your Instagram." she points out as if she’s just remembered. "What’s that about? Going for a mysterious guy kinda vibe?"

You snicker, shifting your weight lightly into her side only enough to throw her balance a little. Jimin laughs, gripping your arm tighter to steady herself.

"Yah-" 

"What do you mean? I have, like… I don’t know, twenty pictures or something up there."

"Sure, but you only have three hundred followers!"

You slow your steps a bit, letting Jimin regain her balance properly.

"Only!?" your voice raises as you stare at her. "Are you even hearing yourself!?"

"...What? Am I wrong?"

"Not everyone is as popular as you, Jimin-ah." you say, a small smile pulling at your lips. "Imagine three hundred people chasing you, silly."

Jimin huffs softly, shaking her head a little too quickly with her cheeks painted pink.

"No! Like- I mean… like, your pictures just don’t have much… you don’t really show anything on your Instagram."

"I’m not the type to show much, I guess. I’m fine with it."

She pouts at that, a small hum leaving her as if she doesn’t fully agree but doesn’t push it either. 

"Still…"

Her grip on your arm loosens just a little as you both wander again into the current of people. Jimin glances around, distracted again immediately, pointing at something ahead as you keep walking side by side without really deciding where you’re going. You start noticing it then–the looks, not even subtle. Mostly guys, a few girls too, looking your way as you pass. Some even do double takes, some nudge their friends while others just stare a second too long before looking away.

It’s not surprising. Jimin’s… the Jimin. You’ve heard a lot about how people went out of their way to confess, random gifts left for her. And somehow, she’s always just brushed it off, staying single until now. You glance at her briefly, only to see that she doesn’t seem to notice, or maybe she just simply doesn’t care.

It’s only been a few months since you first met her anyway. Back then you just randomly decided to join the university volunteer club. No real reason, you just wanted something to do, something positive to turn your life around. Jimin was the one who interviewed you and you remember it very clearly. The same girl walking next to you now, still bright and energetic, asking questions that didn’t really seem easy.

"What would you do if a kid cried and refused to let go of you?"

"Do you think you’re good at comforting people or just pretending to be?"

"Would you rather be a cat or a dog?"

You’d walked out of that room convinced you failed. And then a few days later, you got the email, saying you were accepted. You didn’t really talk much after that, only small interactions during activities and passing conversations. Nothing really sticks until the past month. You didn’t know how it started, Jimin just ended up next to you more often, like tonight.

Jimin drags you around, her grip still hooked around your arm.

"Look at them~"

You don’t react fast enough and suddenly your step catches, you stumble slightly, bumping into her shoulder. Jimin lets out a little squeak but still doesn’t let go, instead just laughs it off. The food stall in front of you is crowded, the smell rich and warm.

"Hungry?" you ask, the food does look good but with her this close, it’s hard to focus on anything properly. Jimin blinks up at you with shiny eyes and nods eagerly.

"Mm! Should we?"

That ‘we’ flicks at your heart a little too hard.

"…Sure, why not?"

Ordering is quick. Jimin hovers beside you, leaning in a little as she points at things on the menu, her shoulder brushing yours every now and then.

"I’ll pay you back later." she says when you hand over the money.

"It’s fine. It’s just food."

Jimin doesn’t fully agree, she hums but doesn’t argue. A minute later, you’re both standing off to the side with little cups in your hand. She takes a bite immediately, then pauses her chewing, eyes turning wide. Cute.

"Oh my… This is actually really good!"

You smile, watching her for a second before taking your own bite.

"It is."

She tries another, not even finishing chewing before holding her skewer up.

"Try this one. It’s chewy."  

You lean in to take a bite and lean back a little too quickly.

"Mmm~ that’s good."

Jimin just smiles, satisfied with the answer she expected. You both linger there a little longer, finishing one thing then another, trading small comments. It was only easy back-and-forth. At some point, she’s already taking you along to the next stall. You slow down in front of the menu, scanning and hesitating. Jimin doesn’t wait.

"Ah! Just get this." she decides, already pointing and telling the worker before you can say anything. A laugh is all you mutter before nodding, paying while Jimin stands there, giggly like she made the right choice–which she usually does, somehow. When the food comes, she takes it first.

"Wait, it’s hot-" she blows on it carefully, her eyebrows almost connecting in concentration. Then she looks up, smiling and holding it out toward you instead.

"You first, for paying. I have manners."

It’s small, yet your chest still tingles.

"…Thanks."

You hesitate while leaning in, only to immediately pull back with a loud hiss, your hand coming up to your mouth.

"Fuh-"

Jimin bursts into laughter.

"Yah! I told you it’s hot!" she laughs, half scolding. She leans in a little closer, now concerned. "Are you okay? Let me see-"

"I’m fine, I’m fine…" You shake your head quickly and stubbornly swallow it down. Her eyes stay on you for a second longer before wrinkling as she laughs again, softer.

"Idiot…"

Further down the path, game booths line the side, waiting for something magical to happen. Plastic rings stacked in buckets, darts pinned against colorful boards, prizes hanging from hooks. Every few steps, someone calls out.

"Three tries for two thousand won!"

"Win one for your girlfriend, guys!"

Jimin slows without letting go of your arm, her eyes have been drifting from one booth to another with curiosity written all over them. You only take your eyes off her when someone screams a little too loud, your attention falls back onto her just as quickly. Only then does a small thought settle in, subtle yet not at all meaningless. Is this really something Jimin didn’t want to come alone to like she said? Because the way she’s been acting doesn’t feel casual. Does she knows?

"Wanna try?" you nod at one of the stalls. "Your mouth’s been open like that for, like, ten minutes."

Cheeks pink, Jimin turns her head back to you.

"...S-sure. Why not?"

She sucks at it, really. Balls thrown, rings tossed… 90% of them missing completely. Jimin looks too serious for someone who’s clearly terrible at games, eyebrows all arched, lips pressed together in concentration. Then she immediately breaks into laughter the moment she fails.

"That was close!"

"It wasn’t even near." you point out and she huffs, ignoring you.

And another try, no surprise, another fail. This time Jimin really groans, her shoulders dropping before she clenches her fists in that exaggerated, dramatic frustration of hers. A couple of students running the booth snicker quietly to themselves. You catch it and glance back at her.

"Argh- Why is this so hard?!"

…

"Let me try."

Before Jimin can protest, your hands settle on her shoulders to guide her back a step. She lets you despite the pout on her lips, clearly not ready to give up.

"Yah…"

You already feel her eyes on you the second you take her place. The first lands by some luck. The second one closer, hitting just right. The third? You miss.

"Shit…"

So you hold your breath, tossing it before you can overthink and it lands. There’s a small cheer from the side, the students already reaching for a prize in the back as when you look back over your shoulder. Jimin’s standing there in her dress, with her arms clasped in front of her, chin tipped up as she looks, adorably, irritated.

"Hmph!"

But it doesn’t quite work with how she presses her lips together. Even an idiot like you knows she’s clearly holding back a smile. 

"Only one left." the booth worker hands you your prize. It’s a ring, tiny and plastic with a little cartoon charm on top. Silly, cheap yet super cute. You stare at it in your palm, already figuring Jimin would definitely like this. She loves silly stuff.

You look back, already opening your mouth and she’s already gone. Jimin’s not far, just a few steps away at another booth, leaning forward like she’s studying, planning her next attempt, completely focused. Like it’s been all night, a smile slips onto your lips again and you walk to her, the ring now resting in your pocket.

Jimin walks by your side again like you both never drifted apart, her hand finding its way back around your arm easily. She hums softly to herself, some song you don’t recognize. But she does sound like she’s happy, like she’s enjoying being here with you tonight. You walk like that for a while, exchanging small, silly comments. A joke here, a quiet laugh there. 

A few minutes later, another path opens. The river cuts through the campus, calmer and darker at this time, reflecting the bright lights from the festival behind you. Trees stand in a straight line along the walk way, their branches decorated with soft pink blossoms. Every now and then, a few petal falls and lands somewhere in the water. It’s less crowded here, cooler and quieter. 

"Look!" Jimin breathes out, you both slow at the same time. "It’s so beautiful!"

You nod, eyes following the way the lights ripple on the water. 

"I haven’t been here at night before. Didn’t know it could look like this…"

Like she’s drawn to it, Jimin releases your arm and wanders toward the railing. She leans forward slightly, both hands resting on the cool metal. You didn’t say a thing, only stopping next to her. You mirror her too, resting only one arm on the railing, eyes looking at the scenery. The reflection, the gentle lights, the soft movement of the night… It doesn’t last long. Just when one pink petal lands near her shoulder, your gaze turns to Jimin. The usually hyper girl’s quieter now, calmer. It sure does take a lot to take the loudness of the festival out of her mind. 

You didn’t think you’d be here tonight. Not like this, not with Jimin. If anything, you figured she was the kind of person you’d just watch from a distance. Someone you’d see, maybe talk to once in a while during club activities and nothing more. Saying she always felt a little out of reach doesn’t feel wrong. But here you are, standing next to her and hearing her breath, her gentle giggles… She’s not like that at all.

A silent breath comes out before you even know it and Jimin turns, cheek on her folded arms against the railing, smiling up at you.

"What’s with the long sigh?"

"Hmm? Nothing." You shake your head. "Just… you know, better than I thought? This whole festival thing."

Jimin squints her eyes only a little, like she doesn’t fully believe your answer. She hums a second later, satisfied anyway.

"Told you~ You’re just too stuck in your own head sometimes."

You laugh at that. You probably would’ve taken that differently if it came from anyone else.

"Really?"

She straightens and pushes herself off the railing.

"Mmm, I don’t want you to take this the wrong way but… you’re kind of different from my first impression."

"…How?"

Instead of answering, Jimin suddenly steps closer to the concrete edge of the railing and lifts herself up, trying to climb onto it.

"Yah… Careful." instinct kicking in, your hands quickly hover just behind her back, just in case she slips but you don’t quite touch her. 

"I’m fine…" Jimin giggles, a little breathless as she finally manages to stand up on it. "...See?"

She looks down at you from her slightly higher spot, tilting her head as a grin paints her lips.

"You didn’t look… social enough. I took you for the total bookworm type. Like, you know, the kind who never talks to anyone, sits alone all the time… I almost felt bad for you."

You’re in no position to take offense. And it’s not entirely wrong. You do spend most of your time studying, keeping to yourself.

"Is it that bad?" you bite the inside of your cheek. "So why’d you pass me, then? Into the club?"

Jimin hums, balancing her energetic self on the railing again and rocking on her heels like she’s thinking it through.

"Honestly…? You looked awkward. Like… super awkward, but not in a bad way." she giggles to herself. "I just feel that you weren’t trying to impress anyone. And you seemed real, I figured you wouldn’t fake being nice to people."

"You got all that just from fifteen minutes?"

"And…" she drags it out. "you did say you want to turn your social life around, right?"

You think, leaning more into the railings and exhaling. It was something along that line. 

"I think so…?"

It sounded more certain back then. You remember saying it out a little louder than you meant. Being alone all the time had started to feel heavier than you thought. Jimin watches your expression and smiles.

"I think I can help you with that, the club too. It’s kind of what we do, you know?" her voice stays light as she playfully kicks your knee with her foot from where she’s standing.

"Just… be more active, okay? Don’t be scared. I’ll help."

"...Okay."

But even as you say it, you remind yourself, that this is just Jimin being Jimin. She’s like this with people all the time. Her personality makes it easy to pull them in without thinking too much. This is not rocket science and there’s nothing deeper behind it. You shouldn’t- no, you must not read into it. 

Because there are also moments that you never bring up, where Jimin only comes to you when there’s something needed, urgent and practical. And in those moments, everything else disappears, all gone like it never meant anything more. So you let out a quiet breath and look back at the water. Maybe you’re just lucky to be here tonight. That’s all there is to it.

…

"Mmm~"

The sound’s gentle, full of curiosity as if something’s just caught her attention. You look to the side and Jimin’s already staring at you, head tilted with that look on her face when she's trying to figure something out. What’s with this girl? All sentimental one moment and unpredictable the next.

"Something’s wrong?"

"You know…" she shifts closer on the high concrete, closer to you than before. "You could try something else."

"Something else?"

"Yes." She gestures a circle in the air. "The glasses."

"My glasses?"

"They suit you." she nods a little too eagerly. "But… you know, I feel like they kind of hide you too. In some way." Her hand starts to move before hesitating just short of your face. "…Can I?" 

It takes you a second, yet you know you’re never one to be able to resist that sweet of a voice.

"…Umm, sure."

Jimin gently slides your glasses off your face. She leans forward with her elbows bracing against the railing as she holds them up with both hands, like she’s analyzing something serious. Without your glasses, your vision blur and lights melt into streaks. You’ve had those glasses for a long while, since early high school, maybe. Rectangular. Boring. You did want something a little bit more hip, trendier but your parents always put function over appearance.

"Ah." Jimin tilts the frame slightly, squinting. "...They’re kinda dirty."

You notice it too, even without seeing clearly. Never go out with a baddie without cleaning your glasses, something to live by.

"It’s fine, I can-" You reach out but Jimin quickly pulls them back, smiling.

"Wait."

The girl lifts the edge of her cardigan sleeve and starts wiping the lenses carefully, just a little too much concentration for something with that many scratches. Shapes, blurry colors and the soft outline of her face are you can see of Jimin. But you know, if you could see her clearly right now, you’d probably be blushing even harder.

"You should clean them more often." she smiles, still wiping.

"Umm… I know."

A second later, she lowers the glasses and looks at them one more time. Then she lifts them to her own face.

"Hmm?"

The frame looks a little too big on her, sitting just a bit off but Jimin just simply doesn’t care. Her eyes widen dramatically as she looks around, playing it up.

"Oah… Is this how smart people see the world?"

You roll your eyes and turn away, both hands now over the railing. You’re not easily offended, only trying to hide the warmth which is getting a little too obvious. And if your ears are red too, then at least she can’t see all of it like this. Jimin laughs softly.

"Sorry, sorry." she still giggles. You shake your head lightly and without wasting a second, her short fingers come back into your blurry vision. The glasses are being placed back onto your face. The gesture is playful yet careful too, her touch warm as she adjusts the frame.

"Hold still…" she murmurs and leans a little more, smoothing the hair on the side of your head. This feels… nice.

"You’d look better with something rounder." Jimin suggests. "I actually saw something online the other day. Like, softer frames? I’ll send it to you later."

Clearing your throat, you can only fix your glasses and utter a few basic words.

"…Okay. Thank you."

Jimin doesn’t stop there.

"And maybe…" she circles a finger in the air, outlining your face. "You could try growing your hair out a bit? Instead of cutting it all the time."

"I don’t do that."

"Right~ Sure you don’t." she smirks, clearly not convinced. "And I know I’m not someone you have to listen to, but…" her voice raises toward the end. "…maybe try piercing your earlobe? "

You turn and look at her properly now, an amused smile on your face. That really does come out of nowhere.

"Really!?"

Like she’s just throwing the idea out there, Jimin hums. There’s something in the way her eyes twinkle before she just shrugs it off.

"Sure, I think it’d suit you. You already look good… you just don’t know it yet."

You don’t even get a second to process it. Jimin hops down from the railing with a little sound effect–a small, happy squeal. She lands and already moves, already somewhere else entirely.

"Ah- wait!" she turns back to you, eyes bright again. "Can you take pictures for me? It’s too pretty not to," she points at the river, the swaying blossoms. "My Instagram’s been so empty lately."

"…Uh- sure-"

Jimin’s already tugging your sleeve again and you let yourself be pulled. To be fair, who can reject that look on her face.

"Come on~"

Just a few steps down the path where the lights look better and the petals feel just right, Jimin lets go of your sleeve as she looks around, adjusting her position slightly.

"Here." she smiles, fixing her hair back. "Okay. Don’t make me look weird, alright?"

Golden lights from the bridge in the distance, the glow of the festival further back, cherry blossom trees overhead yet in the middle of it all, Jimin smiles and she doesn’t even need to try. 

She looks pretty just as always. The cardigan slips off her shoulders a little, hanging loose on the smooth lines of her dress. The dress itself fits her effortlessly, hugging her as it moves in the gentle breeze, blending into the night.

"Hold on…" you mutter, adjusting the angle. 

You take one, then another. Jimin laughs softly between shots, changing poses with not much effort. In the back of your mind, you know you should’ve seen this coming. Things are already complicated enough as they are. And still, you press the button again.

Tonight isn’t going to make anything easier, especially with how Jimin can look this soft one moment and leave you second-guessing everything the next.

────── ⋆⋅⋆ ──────

The bus stop is just somewhere outside campus, covered by a row of big trees. Students linger around lectures, some zooming to get home while others talk calmly, just waiting like it’s just another ordinary part of the day. You? You’re standing a little off to the side with your phone in one hand, the other hand in your jacket pocket. You’re staring, and it’s not nothing.

It’s the frame. A pair of round glasses spins around on your screen, the exact kind Jimin mentioned a week ago. They’re different from your current one–thinner rims, more modern. You scroll down, and up, and down, and finally tap the image again. Something like this shouldn’t matter too much, yet it’s been on your mind ever since Jimin sent it to you after the festival. 

A small reflection stares back at you, your current glasses a little off from how you pushed them up earlier. You adjust them.

"Fucking hell…" you sigh a little too loud, a few times already, but again. "400,000 won…"

It’s a little more than that, taxes exist. The frame sure does look good. No one can’t even deny that Jimin has taste. It only makes sense that she’d pick something like and you find it pretty. But four hundred!? Thousand won!? That’s not the kind of money you can just spend so freely. Your thumb swipes up and down, to the price then back up to the model. It doesn’t change the number. 

"Damn it…"

You close your eyes and tilt your head up, the same old frame falls crooked to the side. ‘You already look good… you just don’t know it yet’. 

"Stupid."

You know your ass can’t back down anymore. It’s dumb, and it’s worse that you even know yourself that it’s dumb. Whatever. You’ve checked the store location probably ten times last night, already mapping the route and calculating how much time you have before the club meeting tonight–before you see Jimin again. You’ve been seeing her more lately, through lectures and even the increasing amount of messages.

"Why am I so stupi-"

"Whatcha doing?"

You flinch so hard you almost fling at the voice with your phone.

"Fuck!"

A soft laugh breaks out and you turn back.

Minjeong stands there, maybe she’s been watching you for a while. One hard covers her lips as she giggles, shoulders shaking just a little. That oversized bag hangs off her shoulder again, always looking like it could swallow half her body. Minjeong’s always dressed simply, and now is no exception. White top, light brown pants, nothing flashy but it always suits her. 

"You’re insane, Minjeong-ah… Shit!"

"Sorry~ I had to. You looked so serious." pleased with herself, she tilts her head and eyes your phone. "What were you looking at anyway?"

As the adrenaline fades, you remember.

"It’s nothing," you cover the screen with your fingers. Minjeong leans in, confused.

"Yah, show me."

"It’s just- Nothing, I’m serious."

"Show me~"

She shoots it out, a small whine and she makes sure to drag it out just enough to be annoying… or enough to melt you down, like always.

"…Fine."

You finally turn the screen to Minjeong and she squints immediately as she takes in the image.

"Hmm? New frames?" she then glances up at you. Her eyes scan your face, your current glasses, then back to the screen again. "You’re getting a new one?"

You know you can’t keep brushing it off, especially with Minjeong. Admitting seems like the better choice anyway.

"Yes, I’m actually taking the bus to Seongsu to get it."

"Mm? Seongsu?"

 "I already booked it a few days ago," you try to sound more certain than you feel. "Just, you know, something new. Doesn’t hurt, right?"

"I see…" Minjeong nods slowly but the way her eyes squint a little tells you enough. "But are you sure? Isn’t that expensive?"

"It’s fine." you lie, scratching the back of your head and looking away. "I’ve saved up so it’s not that much." 

You do have money saved up, still, it hurts. Minjeong doesn’t look convinced. Almost immediately, she punches your bicep to make you look back at her. The concern is clearer now in her voice, despite her soft tone.

"Yah, really? Are you sure?"

You open your mouth but Minjeong cuts you off quickly.

"I know somewhere cheaper…" she smiles and her grip on the bag strap tightens. "They have similar styles too. You don’t have to splurge like that. I can show you, it’s not far from here." 

That moment, your mind splits. Jimin’s bright and bubbly, always pulling you into things you wouldn’t normally do. The girl says things like it’s nothing, making everything feel like maybe you could be more than what you’ve been, better than who you are right now.

And Minjeong’s right here. She’s always more of a grounded and realistic person. She notices before you even say anything, never one to let you spend money you don’t have without questioning it. She cares for you in ways that Jimin doesn’t. It would be easier to just go with Minjeong. But-

"It’s okay… I already planned it. I just wanna try something new."

Minjeong hums, the sound long enough for you to take in before she finally exhales, lips pulling into a subtle pout.

"You’re so stubborn."

"You’ve known me for a year and you’re just now figuring this out?"

That earns you a look.

"No. But you’ve been weird lately."

Weird? Your mind jumps at the word a little too fast. Does Minjeong know?

"Have I?" you try a fake laugh, hoping it sounds real.

"...Can I come with you?"

The question catches you a little off guard. Part of you lights up at the idea, having Minjeong next to you. The other part feels much more like fear. Is she just curious? Trying to figure out why you’ve been weird?

"You really want to? It’s gonna take a while."

Minjeong doesn’t hesitate, she smiles–that same smile you’ve known since the first day you met her. It always manages to make you feel some type of way, still does.

"It’s fine~ We’re both going to the club meeting tonight anyway, right?" Then her eyes widen as she gasped. Cute. "Don’t tell me you’re not going on the trip next week?!"

You remember the messages, it’s almost everyday. What to wear, what to eat, places she wanted to go, pictures she wanted to take. She’s been looking forward to the trip since it was first announced two months ago.

"What, silly?" you laugh. "Of course I’m going! What are you talking about?"

"Okay." Minjeong finally breathes, the tension leaving her face as quickly as it came before she smiles. "Then I’m coming with you."

It’s weirdly quiet for a Thursday afternoon, only a few students sit scattered here and there. Late sunlight shines through the window, soft with a yellow-ish shade all across the space, even catching Minjeong's hair. You take a seat near the back and Minjeong follows you like always, her oversized bag on her lap as she sits. A few minutes into the ride, you catch her side profile. The way she pursed her lips a little and how her lashes lower when she focuses.

You hate to admit it. But you have feelings for both of them.

Minjeong pulls you in differently. It started without you even noticing. You don’t even remember exactly when it started, just that you’ve always ended up next to her now. Every single group assignments, lectures, small things that turned into usual meetings. And no matter how much she denies it, Minjeong’s so pretty. That much is obvious. And you used to hate it when guys tried to hit on her. Welp, you still do.

And then there’s Jimin, who comes into your life a little unexpectedly. Someone like her, always bright, popular and gorgeous with… someone like you? It doesn’t make sense, at least to you.

You’ve always told yourself something simple, that if you ever fall for someone, it would be just one person. You hate the thought of being unfaithful, but life’s one hell of a ride and here you are. Things are never that simple, are they?

You feel a tap on your arm and you’re snapped out of it. Minjeong’s looking at you, her eyes soft when she offers one earphone to you, the other already in her ear. She doesn’t say anything and just waits, the corners of her lips pulled up only a little.

You smile and lean in like always. Minjeong puts it in for you before turning her attention back to her phone just as easily. You watch her scroll when a song catches your attention. You don’t even think, your hand already tapping on her phone.

"Really?"

"It’s good. And you know it."

Minjeong lets the song play and she adjusts the volume slightly. The bus sways a little, your shoulders brush, knees touching but neither of you does anything about it. When the chorus comes, she sings under her breath.

"너 하나에 이토록 아플 수 있음에 놀라곤 해 고단했던 하루, 나는 꿈을 꿔도 아파..."

It reminds you of the first time she ever did that, back when you weren’t even close yet. She caught herself halfway through and went quiet immediately, cheeks almost blazing. Now she doesn’t stop and just keeps going when you’re close.

"...너였다면 어떨-"

Right when the song prepares to get to the best part, you feel a buzz in your pocket. You’re already guessing who it is. And just like you predict, it’s Jimin who always shows up at the most unexpected times.

The photo fills your screen.

[katarinabluu] i just bought this toppp how do i look???

"Shit…" you don’t even know you smile, you don’t even know you said it.

Minjeong’s still swaying slightly in her seat when you look back to her side, singing under her breath. You look back down at the girl on her screen again and clear your throat subtly.

You hate yourself and how easy it is for your heart to react to both. It’s not supposed to be like this. So you exhale and lean back into your seat, letting the music fill the silence in your mind while the typing dot bubble appears on your screen.

What do you do now?

AERI UCHINAGA

KIM MINJEONG

NING YIZHUO

three months.

it's been three months of stolen glances across practice rooms, of fingers intertwining under restaurant tables, of goodnight texts that stretch into dawn. three months of minjeong being the perfect girlfriend— attentive, sweet, respectful to a fault. and you love her for it, you do. but there's this tension that's been building, a current of electricity that runs through every touch, every kiss that ends just before it deepens into something more.

tonight feels different though.

dinner was perfect. she'd taken you to this small italian place tucked away in gangnam, somewhere private where she didn't have to worry about cameras or fans.

now you're back at her apartment, the one she rarely uses but keeps for nights like these when she needs space from the dorms. the city lights filter through the floor-to-ceiling windows, casting everything in a soft, amber glow.

"did you have fun?" minjeong asks, her voice soft as she steps closer. there's something tentative in the way she moves, like she's holding herself back.

"i always have fun with you," you reply, reaching up to take off her cap. her blonde hair falls messily around her face. god, she's beautiful. "minjeong... can i ask something?"

"hm?"

"why haven't we..." you trail off, feeling heat creep up your neck. it's not exactly an easy conversation to have.

but she knows what you mean. of course she does. her cheeks flush pink, and she looks away, teeth catching her bottom lip. "i... i didn't want to rush you. and i—" she hesitates, and you've never seen her look quite so vulnerable. "there's something i should probably tell you."

your heart hammers in your chest. "what is it?"

instead of answering, she takes your hand, guiding it down between your bodies until your palm presses against the front of her jeans. your breath catches. even through the denim, you can feel her— thick and half-hard already, the outline unmistakable.

"oh," you breathe out.

"i was scared you'd be... i don't know, surprised? freaked out?" minjeong's voice wavers, and there's genuine worry in her dark eyes. "i'm... i'm kind of..."

"…big?" you finish for her, and the word comes out more breathless than you intended. because she is. even not fully hard, you can tell she's significantly bigger than you'd expected, and fuck if that doesn't send a bolt of heat straight through you.

she nods, still looking nervous. "is that... is that okay?"

instead of answering with words, you kiss her. hard. your hands slide up into her hair, tugging slightly, and she gasps against your mouth. you use the opportunity to deepen the kiss, tongue sliding against hers, swallowing the small whimper she makes.

"bedroom," you murmur against her lips. "now."

the walk to her bedroom is a blur of heated kisses and fumbling hands. she backs you up against the wall halfway there, her body pressed flush against yours, and you can feel how hard she's getting. it's impossible to miss the way her cock strains against her jeans, pressing insistently against your hip.

"mm, aegi," she whines, and the sound goes straight to your core. "i've wanted this for so long."

"me too," you gasp as her lips find your neck, sucking a mark just below your ear. "ah.. minjeong…”

you finally make it to the bedroom, and suddenly there's nervous energy crackling between you again. but you don't want her to overthink this, so you take control, gently pushing her to sit on the edge of the bed.

"let me," you say softly, dropping to your knees between her spread thighs.

"you don't have to— oh…" her protest dies as your hands work open her jeans. you help her lift her hips, dragging the denim down her legs along with her boxers, and—

holy shit.

minjeong's cock springs free, flushed and heavy, and she's huge. easily eight inches, thick enough that you're not sure your fingers would touch if you wrapped your hand around her. the head is dark pink, already leaking, and you watch mesmerized as it twitches under your gaze.

"…told you," she mumbles, sounding embarrassed, one hand moving to cover herself.

you catch her wrist. "you're perfect," you tell her, and mean it. "baby, you're so hot."

before she can respond, you lean forward and lick a stripe up the underside of her shaft. she makes this punched-out whimpering sound that's absolutely fucking delicious, her hips jerking involuntarily.

"s-sensitive," she gasps. "it's been so long, i—ah!"

you wrap your lips around the head, sucking gently, and her hand flies to your hair. not pushing, just holding on like she needs something to anchor herself to. you work more of her into your mouth, jaw stretching to accommodate her size, but there's no way you can take all of her. instead, you wrap your hand around the base, stroking what doesn't fit.

"oh god, oh fuck, jagiya, your mouth—" minjeong's babbling now, her voice high and whiny in a way that makes you clench around nothing. "feels so good, you feel so fucking good."

you pull off with a wet pop, still stroking her slowly. her cock is slick with your spit, throbbing in your grip. "i need you inside me," you tell her.

she actually whimpers at that, her cock twitching hard. "are you sure? i don't— i don't wanna hurt you."

"you won't," you promise, standing up and starting to strip off your clothes. her eyes track every movement, dark and hungry, her hand moving unconsciously to stroke herself. "i want it. want you. all of you."

once you're naked, you grab a condom from her nightstand, because of course responsible minjeong has them ready, and roll it down her length. she hisses at the contact, her abs tensing under her shirt. which reminds you…

"shirt off," you command softly, and she obeys immediately, pulling the polo over her head and tossing it aside.

she's gorgeous. pale skin, subtle muscle definition, small breasts with pink nipples already hard. you run your hands over her stomach as you straddle her lap, feeling the way her muscles jump under your touch.

her cock is pressed between you now, hot and hard against your stomach, and you can feel yourself dripping onto her thighs. you're so wet already, have been since you first felt her in her jeans.

"ready?" you ask, rising up on your knees and positioning her at your entrance.

"yes, ah," she breathes, hands gripping your hips. "please, baby, i need— mm, i need you so bad."

you start to sink down slowly, and even though you're soaking wet, the stretch is intense. she's so fucking thick, splitting you open inch by inch, and you have to pause halfway, breathing through the overwhelming fullness.

"oh my god," minjeong whines, her eyes squeezed shut, fingers digging into your skin hard enough to bruise. "you're so tight, mmhmp, you feel incredible, i can't—"

"look at me," you command, and her eyes flutter open. they're completely blown out, more black than brown. "watch."

you place one of her hands on your lower stomach and continue sinking down, taking more of her, and when you press her palm flat, both of you can feel it— the distinct bulge of her cock pushing up against your belly from the inside.

"fuck!" minjeong's whole body shudders, her hips jerking up involuntarily, pushing the last few inches into you. "ohfuckohfuck, i can feel— you're so—"

you cry out at the sudden fullness, at the feeling of being completely stuffed with her. she's so deep you swear you can feel her in your throat. you sit there for a moment, both of you panting, adjusting to the sensation.

"you okay?" she manages to ask through gritted teeth, though she looks like she's barely holding onto her control.

"so okay," you assure her, starting to rock your hips slowly. "so so okay. you feel amazing, minjeong."

she whimpers again, that high needy sound that you're quickly becoming addicted to. "can you— oh god— can you move? please?"

you start to ride her properly, rising up until just the tip remains inside before sinking back down. slowly at first, then gradually picking up pace. every time you drop down, you both can see and feel the bulge in your stomach, her cock so big it's visible from the outside.

"look at you," you breathe, covering her hand on your belly with your own. "look how deep you are. you're in so deep, baby."

"don't— ngh— don't say stuff like that," she whines, her free hand moving to your hip to help guide your movements. "gonna make me cum too fast."

but you can't help it. she's hitting spots inside you that you didn't even know existed, pleasure radiating through your entire body with each thrust. "you fill me up so good," you tell her, speeding up your movements. "your cock is so big, minjeong. so perfect."

she's falling apart beneath you, her cool idol composure completely shattered. she's whining with every breath, her hips jerking up to meet yours, chasing her pleasure desperately. "please, please, i'm so close already, you feel too good, i can't—"

"touch me," you gasp, and her thumb immediately finds your clit, rubbing quick circles that make you clench around her. "fuck, yes, just like that."

the combination of her cock stretching you open, the visible bulge in your stomach, and her fingers on your clit is rapidly pushing you toward the edge. you can feel your thighs starting to shake, your rhythm getting erratic.

"gonna cum," you warn her. "fuck, minjeong, you're gonna make me cum."

"please," she whines, and she sounds absolutely desperate. "please cum on my cock, wanna feel it, wanna feel you—ah!"

your orgasm hits you like a wave, pleasure crashing through your body as you clench rhythmically around her. you can feel yourself gushing, making a mess of her thighs, and the way she whimpers tells you she can feel every flutter of your walls around her cock.

"i'm— i can't— jagiya, i'm cumming," she gasps out, her hips stuttering up into you one last time before she's spilling into the condom with a long, drawn-out whine. you can feel her cock pulsing inside you, can feel the bulge in your stomach as she fills the condom with what must be a massive load based on how long she keeps cumming.

finally, she collapses back against the bed, pulling you down with her. you're both breathing hard, sweaty and satisfied, her cock still buried inside you.

"so," you say after you've caught your breath. "that's what we've been waiting three months for?"

she laughs, the sound slightly breathless, and you feel it where you're still connected. "was it worth the wait?"

you clench around her deliberately, making her gasp and whimper. "definitely. though i think we have a lot of time to make up for."

her cock twitches inside you, apparently already interested in round two despite just finishing. she smiles up at you, blonde hair messy and lips kiss-swollen.

Your mouth is on hers, hungry, demanding, swallowing the soft gasp that escapes her lips. Your tongue pushes past her teeth, claiming her, tasting her, making her whimper into your mouth. Fuck, she tastes good—like the wine from dinner and something sweeter, something that's just her.

You don't know how it got to this.

But does it even matter at this point?

Winter is beneath you, wide-eyed, breath uneven, her body already betraying her. The cabin air is thick with the scent of pine and summer heat, but all you can focus on is her—how she's splayed out beneath you on the bed, pupils blown wide, lips swollen from your kisses, parted like she's about to say something but keeps swallowing the words before they can form. Her body is warm, soft where you hold her, a contrast to the sharp tension crackling between you both, something unspoken but undeniable.

Your sister is just down the hall.

Your parents are in the next room over, sleeping, completely unaware of what's happening—what's about to happen. The thought should stop you. It should make you hesitate, reconsider, anything.

It doesn't. It just makes your cock harder, the forbidden nature of it all making your blood run hotter.

Her messy bun is coming undone, strands of blonde slipping loose around her face, framing the flush creeping up her cheeks. Her pendant—the tiny, delicate one she never takes off—catches the moonlight from the window, rising and falling with every uneven breath. The long sleeves of her shirt are pushed up, bunched at her elbows, fabric soft and slightly wrinkled from where your hands have gripped at her.

You slide your hands up her sides, pushing her shirt up to reveal the taut skin of her abdomen. She shivers as the cool air hits her exposed flesh, muscles flexing beneath your touch. You can't tear your eyes away from how her stomach tightens with each ragged breath, the way her ribs show just slightly beneath soft skin. She flinches, a half-hearted attempt to cover herself, but you pin her wrists above her head with one hand.

"Let me look at you," you growl, and she bites her lip, torn between wanting to hide and wanting to be seen.

"We really shouldn't," she whispers, but her back arches subtly, her body contradicting her words. "What if someone hears?"

You push the shirt higher until her bra is exposed—simple, cotton, nothing fancy, but the way her tits strain against the fabric makes your mouth water. You can see her nipples hardening, pressing against the thin material. You lower your head, dragging your tongue across one peak through the fabric, feeling it tighten further. She arches into your mouth, a choked sound escaping her lips.

"Shhh," you warn, your free hand sliding down between her legs where she's completely bare and already dripping. "You gotta be quiet, baby."

"Oh god," she whimpers, trying to press her thighs together but failing against your strength. "You're so much bigger than I thought you'd be."

Your cock presses against her entrance, heavy, throbbing. Just the tip, nothing more—just enough to feel the way she's slick, hot, inviting. You can barely breathe from how much you want her, from how close you are to ruining this moment, this fragile hesitation that's keeping her from pushing you away.

She whispers, "We shouldn't." Her voice breaks on the second word, trembling with both desire and doubt. "We can't. It's wrong."

Her body doesn't pull back, but her eyes dart nervously toward the door. Her hips stay tilted just so, thighs trembling as if they're fighting to close but can't bring themselves to do it. If anyone wakes up, if someone hears, this doesn't just become a mistake—it becomes something you can't take back.

"You're so fucking wet," you murmur against her ear, your fingers sliding through her folds, gathering her slick before bringing it to your mouth. You suck your fingers clean, watching her eyes widen at the obscene display. "Taste so good I could eat you for hours."

"No, don't," she protests weakly, but her hips betray her, rocking against your hand. "That's so filthy." Yet her breath catches, her voice dropping to a desperate whisper. "But I need it."

Your voice drops lower, teasing, thick with a promise you both know you won't keep. "It's okay. Just the tip."

A flicker of hesitation. A sharp inhale. Her hands flutter against your grip, testing your hold. But she doesn't say no.

You press forward just a little, and the second your cock pushes past her entrance, her entire body tightens beneath you. She's so fucking tight, her cunt stretching around you in slow, pulsing resistance before yielding, letting you sink just that much deeper. You both gasp, sharp and shallow. Her nails dig into your arm, her fingers curling, but she doesn't push you away—doesn't tell you to stop.

"It's too big," she whines, her head thrashing slightly on the pillow. "I can't—you won't fit. Oh god, you're stretching me so much."

Her breath catches in her throat, a whimper that she tries to swallow down, but you hear it anyway. Feel it, in the way her thighs tremble beneath your hands—bare, smooth, but not completely.

She's shaved, but there's a faint prickle under your palm, the softest roughness just beginning to grow back. It's subtle, just enough to feel, just enough to remind you that this is real, that she's real, naked beneath you, trembling, wet.

"Your pussy's so tight," you whisper, and her eyes roll back slightly at your words. Her pendant shifts against her collarbone as she swallows hard. "Been thinking about fucking you for so long."

"We shouldn't," she says again, more desperate now. "We can't do this. We—" but her words dissolve into a soft moan as you push in another inch. "Oh fuck, you're going to ruin me."

You bring your fingers to her throat, thumb brushing against the delicate skin there. Not squeezing. Not yet. Just a warning. A reminder that she can stop this at any moment.

She doesn't.

"This is wrong," she whispers, but her body arches into your touch, contradicting her words. Her pussy clenches around your tip, like she's trying to pull you deeper. "But I need it so bad. Need you inside me."

Her thighs tense, muscles fluttering beneath your grip. But you keep her pinned down, spread open, locked in place beneath you. The pendant around her neck dangles slightly, catching the dim cabin light, shifting with every shallow breath she takes.

"Just the tip," you murmur again, voice thick, coaxing.

But you both know that's a lie.

She shifts—just a little, a reflex, a reaction—but it's enough. Enough for your cock to slide in another inch, enough for the tight heat of her to wrap around you just a little more, enough for both of you to feel the moment restraint snaps and neither of you can turn back.

She's dripping, soaking you, slick gathering at the base of your cock where you've barely even pushed in. Your length drags against her folds, spreading the warmth of her arousal, and fuck, she's so wet you can feel it running down your balls, making everything that much harder to control.

"Fuck…" she breathes, the word slipping out on a strangled gasp, barely audible. She bites down on her lip, hard, as if that will stop another sound from escaping. As if it will stop the truth from settling between you.

"Tell me to stop."

The words hang in the thick air, heavy, offering an out she won't take.

Silence. Then, almost imperceptibly, she shakes her head. "Don't stop," she whispers, the admission clearly costing her. Her fingers clutch at your arms, digging in, anchoring herself to you. "I need it. Need you to fill me up."

You exhale slowly, press her thighs down against her body, locking her in place, keeping her open for you. You can see where your cock is splitting her open, stretching her tight little pussy, and the sight almost makes you lose it right there.

But for a moment, everything slows down. You slide your hand up to cup her cheek instead. Her skin is flushed hot against your palm. You hold her there, making her look at you, forcing her to meet your gaze as you hover above her. Your eyes lock, and something passes between you—something raw and honest that strips away all pretense. Her pupils are blown wide, leaving just a thin ring of color, and you can see everything in them—the want, the fear, the surrender.

"Winter," you whisper, just her name, nothing more. Your thumb traces her bottom lip, still swollen from your kisses. She trembles beneath your touch, vulnerable in a way that has nothing to do with being naked.

"I shouldn't want this," she confesses, voice so quiet you almost don't hear it. "But I do. I want it so much. Want you inside me. Want you to cum in me."

Her lashes flutter, her chest rising and falling in quick, shallow breaths. You move your hand back to her throat, just enough pressure to make her gasp, just enough to watch her lips part in something between a plea and surrender. Her pulse flutters against your palm, frantic, but she doesn't try to stop you. The pendant at her throat taps against your wrist with every thundering heartbeat.

The fabric of her long-sleeve shirt is bunched at her wrists now, twisted from where she's been gripping the sheets, knuckles white. Your hand leaves her throat to slide between your bodies, finding her clit with your thumb, circling the swollen bud.

"You knew this was gonna happen."

Her lips part again, and this time, she doesn't argue.

The moment you bottom out, it's over.

Winter's hands fly to your wrist, nails sinking deep into your skin, not to push you away but to hold on, to ground herself against the overwhelming stretch of you inside her. She's gasping, barely breathing, each ragged inhale broken by the weight of your grip around her throat. Her pulse thrums beneath your fingers, frantic, erratic, like a trapped bird.

"Oh god," she cries out, too loud in the quiet cabin. "You're too big. You're stretching me too much."

"You can take it," you murmur, voice thick with lust, pressing deeper, grinding your hips down until she whimpers. Her pussy stretches around you, tight and slick, gripping your cock like it was made for you. Her body trembles beneath you, chest rising unevenly, legs twitching where you've pinned them open. "Fuck, you're taking my cock so well."

"Please," she begs, though what she's begging for isn't clear even to her. Her hands push weakly against your chest, but her hips keep rocking, seeking more. "It hurts but don't stop, please don't stop."

Your free hand slides up her body, finding her breast through the thin fabric of her shirt. You can feel her nipple harden under your palm as you squeeze, rough enough to make her gasp. The cotton barrier is frustrating, but there's something filthy about having her half-dressed like this, completely bare from the waist down, cock buried deep while her shirt still clings to her upper body.

"Should've torn this off you," you growl, bunching the fabric of her shirt in your fist, tugging it up to expose more of her. "Wanna see these tits bounce while I fuck you."

"No, someone might see," she protests, even as she arches her back, pressing her breast more firmly into your hand. "Someone might hear us."

The bed creaks. You freeze.

Your sister is asleep just down the hall. Your parents are in the next room. If anyone hears—

But then Winter clenches around you, fluttering, pulsing, already too fucked out to care. Her walls squeeze so tight it's dizzying, the slick heat of her drawing you in, making it impossible to think about anything else. Her eyes are glazed over, lips parted, cheeks flushed with a mix of shame and pleasure she can't hide.

You loosen your grip on her throat, letting her take in a desperate gulp of air—only to tighten your fingers again the moment a sound escapes her lips. A muffled moan, cut off as her lashes flutter, as her body jolts beneath you. The sight of her struggling for breath, completely at your mercy, makes your cock throb inside her.

"Shhh." Your warning comes with a twist of your hips that makes her eyes roll back.

She nods frantically, eyes wet with unshed tears, body twitching in your grip, obedient even as she shakes. A whimper escapes her, too loud in the quiet room, and she slaps her own hand over her mouth, biting down on her fingers to keep quiet.

"I can't be quiet," she whispers desperately against her fingers. "It feels too good. You're too deep."

You pull her hand away, replacing it with two of your own fingers, pushing them between her lips. "Suck," you command in a harsh whisper. She obeys immediately, tongue swirling around your digits, eyes locked on yours as she hollows her cheeks. It's obscene, the way her mouth works around your fingers while her pussy grips your cock. You push them deeper, making her take them to the knuckle, watching her throat work as she struggles not to gag.

"Such a dirty girl," you whisper. "Acting all innocent then taking my cock like you were made for it."

You don't slow down. If anything, you make it worse for her—slow, deep thrusts, dragging every inch through the mess between her thighs, keeping her on edge, making sure she feels every second of it. You can feel your cock dragging against that spot inside her that makes her whole body jerk.

She reaches for you suddenly, hands clutching at your shoulders, nails digging in as she pulls you closer. Her legs wrap around your waist, changing the angle, taking you even deeper. The new position has you hitting something that makes her bite down hard on your fingers, her body shuddering beneath you.

You pull your fingers from her mouth, tracing the wet digits down her chin, her throat, between her breasts, leaving a glistening trail on her skin. "You like that?" you ask, adjusting your hips again, making sure to hit that same spot. "Right there?"

"Yes," she admits shamefully, her resistance crumbling. "Fuck me harder. Please. I need it deeper."

She nods frantically, eyes wide, desperate. Her hands move to your neck, fingers tangling in your hair, pulling you down until your foreheads touch. You're sharing breath now, mouths close enough to kiss but not quite touching. You can feel every gasp, every whimper.

"I shouldn't want this," she confesses in a broken whisper. "Shouldn't want your cum. Shouldn't want you to knock me up. But I do. I want it so fucking bad."

The intimacy of it almost breaks you. You pull back slightly, shifting your attention to where your bodies join. You hook one of her legs over your arm, opening her wider, changing the angle again. The sight of your cock disappearing into her, slick and glistening with her arousal, has you transfixed.

"Look at how well you take me," you say, voice strained, slowing your pace to make her feel every inch. "So fucking perfect."

"It's too much," she whines, even as her hips chase yours. "Too big. You're ruining me for anyone else."

She's too sensitive, too overwhelmed, but you don't stop. She's past the point of being able to resist, past the point of pulling away. Her pussy is making obscene wet sounds with every thrust, so fucking soaked that it's running down the curve of her ass, staining the sheets beneath you both.

Your thumb finds her clit, swollen and slippery, and the moment you touch it, her whole body jerks like she's been shocked. You circle it slowly, deliberately, feeling how it pulses under your touch.

"Please," she whispers, the word barely audible, her first real plea since this started. You're not sure if she's begging you to stop or continue, and you don't care. You press down harder on her clit, rubbing faster, matching the rhythm of your thrusts.

"God—" she breathes, barely able to form words, her mouth struggling to work. "It's so—so deep. Your cock is so big. I can feel you in my stomach." Her voice is like crushed velvet, hushed and broken. Her pendant swings with each thrust, catching the light in hypnotic flashes.

Her hands grip your arms now, holding on for stability as you pick up the pace. The rhythm changes from slow and deep to something more urgent, more primal. Her breathing quickens, shallow and ragged, little puffs of air against your face.

"I can't—" she gasps, her words cut off by a particularly deep thrust. "I'm getting close." The admission is almost shameful, whispered like a secret against your neck. "Please, I need to cum on your cock."

You press her thighs wider, holding them open with bruising force. The position lets you watch everything—the way her stomach tenses with each thrust, how her breasts bounce slightly beneath her shirt, the way your cock stretches her open, the slick mess of her arousal coating both of you.

"I said just the tip," you taunt, voice rough with exertion, with need. "Look at you now. Taking every fucking inch."

"I know," she whimpers, shame and arousal mixing in her voice. "I'm such a slut for you. Can't help it. Need your cock so bad."

Her whimpers turn into silent screams, mouth open, lips trembling, thighs quivering beneath your grip. She's too far gone, helpless to stop what's coming, unable to do anything but take it. Your fingers are soaked with her arousal as you work her clit, switching between gentle circles and firm pressure, watching how each touch makes her react differently.

She's so close. You can feel it in the way her pussy tightens around you, in the desperate, broken sounds she's trying not to make. Her breathing becomes erratic, shallow, her entire body tensing beneath you.

"I'm gonna cum," she whimpers, the words barely audible. "Please, please don't stop. Fill me up. Want your cum so bad. Want you to breed me." Her confession makes your cock throb, the desperation in her voice pushing you closer to your own edge.

She grabs your wrist where you're working her clit, not to stop you but to press your fingers harder against her. Her eyes are pleading, desperate, silently begging for release. You give her what she wants, increasing the pressure, circling faster, feeling her body wind tighter and tighter.

"Gonna fill this tight little pussy," you whisper against her ear, biting down on her earlobe. "Gonna pump you so full you'll feel me for days. Put a baby in you."

The words make her clench around you again, her pussy gripping your cock like she's trying to milk it. She's right on the edge, teetering, about to break. Her nails dig into your back, dragging down, marking you as thoroughly as you're marking her.

"Cum for me, right now." The order comes as a growl against her ear, rough, absolute. You punctuate the command by grinding against her clit, circling it with your thumb as you thrust deeper, harder.

"Shit! I'm cumming," she cries out, too loud, beyond caring who might hear. "You're making me cum on your big cock. Oh god, I'm cumming!"

Her body seizes, back arching off the bed, legs trembling violently, a choked gasp escaping as she shatters beneath you. Her orgasm takes her apart, raw and violent, the aftershocks making her sob. Her pussy clamps down on your cock like a vise, pulsing, milking you, pulling you deeper. Her pendant swings wildly against her throat, catching the light with each convulsion of her body.

But you don't stop.

You keep working her clit through it, relentless, forcing her higher even as she tries to twist away from the overwhelming sensation. Your fingers are merciless, pushing her past what she can handle, turning her orgasm into something that seems endless, wave after wave crashing through her.

"That's it," you encourage, watching her fall apart. "Take it. Fucking take it. Take my cum."

"Breed me," she begs, completely lost to the pleasure. "Fill me up. Make me yours. Please, please, please."

She's still cumming when you bury yourself deep, when you push so far inside it's almost painful, when you spill into her, hot and thick, filling her up, leaving her ruined beneath you. You can feel your cum pumping into her, your cock twitching with each pulse, her body taking everything you give her.

Your fingers finally ease off her clit, letting her come down from the intensity. You trace lazy circles on her inner thigh instead, feeling the way she twitches with aftershocks, sensitive and spent.

Neither of you move.

The only sound is the ragged pace of your breathing, the soft, wet tremble of her body as she twitches through the last waves of it. The weight of what just happened settling over both of you. The evidence of it already spilling between her legs, a mixture of her slick and your cum dripping onto the sheets.

It was reckless. Dangerous. The filthiest thing you've ever done—fucking her with your family just rooms away, the constant threat of discovery making every sensation sharper, every touch more electric. The memory of her body yielding to yours, taking you so deep, of her desperate attempts to stay quiet as you ruined her—it's all seared into your mind.

A floorboard creaks in the hallway.

You both freeze, eyes wide, bodies still joined, the reality of what you've done crashing over you like ice water.

“I don’t love you anymore,” you remember her saying. You expected her to look indifferent. She did, and it felt like she was throwing your heart on the ground and stomping on it.

“I’ll marry you anyway,” you remember saying, like giving her permission to stomp on it harder.

“Okay then.”

You remember those 2 words being the most beautiful thing you’d ever heard. She probably doesn’t.

You bawl your eyes out, and so does your mom, and so does her mom when she walks down the aisle. The dress is stunning, her makeup ethereal. Her hair is done up in the same way it was on the bride in that old movie she forced you to watch, where the wedding is exactly the type of wedding I want to have. Her skin is so smooth, whiter than the dress, but it’s getting hard to see with all the tears in your eyes. You should wipe them away, but then you’d get tears on your tux, and you don’t want to embarrass her.

She’s just walking there, calm, indifferent, Sun shining through the stained glass window and hitting her in a way that no light could ever hit someone, except for her. Her gloved hands are draped lazily to her side and you just want to reach out and touch them, hold them, even if they are cold.

She gets up there, and there’s a slight red to her cheeks, and you think maybe she can love, but you read your vows, and it’s raw and deep, you talk about how you’ll care for her through the darkness of the night, the cold of winter, and the desolation of a feeling unhad. You tell her you’ll love her, because you know deep down, by the way she fixes your shoes and your lapels that she loves you too, because she told you she always would no matter what, even if God took love away from me. You tell her that she looks beautiful and that she always will, and that your souls are eternally attached, and you wipe your tears away even though it makes her cheeks more red.

The whole room is a mess of sniffles and sobs, and when it’s her turn she says “I don’t have any vows.”

---

She makes up for it later that night, right after all of the “are you okay?” questions.

“Just, so happy I’m marrying the love of my life,” you respond, wiping your tears away. It’s only half true.

But you're in the suite now, and her lips are chasing yours.

“It’s our wedding night,” she huffs, ripping your jacket off of you. “I’ve been waiting for this all day.”

She pushes you onto the bed. She looks hungry, impatient, slipping out of the dress you’ve waited your whole life to see her in like it’s lingerie, but her smooth skin, the lips you know so well are back on you in a second.

“Minjeong,” you cry, but her tongue interrupts you as she shoves it back down your throat, and she’s wearing that same lip gloss you got her in high school, the one you saved up for months for, and you start kissing back.

She climbs on top of you, hands on the lapels of your expensive tux. “Just make me feel good.”

You scramble to take your clothes off. She helps you, unbuttoning your shirt and finding your nipples, pinching them softly. She grinds on you, your cock growing, blinded by one sided love and pure lust as her white wedding panties soak your trousers. She doesn't mind now.

It's a mixture, how you feel. Until death do you part, and when her pussy clenches around you, you think, is this really living? Am I already dead, gone, destined to fizzle out in this marriage with no love? But she makes you come while her tongue is in your mouth and you forget, and you hold her tight while she cums, and you think, this is romantic, both of us cumming together on our wedding night, but it ends and she rolls over on her side and falls asleep, back towards you.

You lay there for a while, huffing, huffing until the Sun comes up and she rises, turns around, says good morning before heading to the shower.

---

So it goes like this, and you tell yourself that your love for Winter will never wain. She can be indifferent, but she can still feel humour and horny and hope, so maybe you can live like this.

Sometimes she'll tease you, and even if it's not lovingly, it's not full of malice. It's something in between, like: "hey, aren't you going to take me out? I'm your wife, aren't I?" with a smile on her face and you don't know what it means, and you know it's not love, but it's something and you can deal with something.

Other times it's hard, like your two people just living, neither together nor apart, the string of fate, the slow decay of memories keeping you just close enough.

It occupies your being. Your whole life, thinking what if. What if Winter could still feel love? How different would your life be. Would it be like old times, where she held you, told you you were hers and she'd never let go?

You have all the remnants of a happy marriage. Fluff pillows thrown comfortably on all the couches, candles, a picture book from the wedding sat on the coffee table.

Sometimes, she'll sit on the couch with you, look through the book and say: remember how we fucked that night? Remember how hard we both came?

"Cafeteria food again?" a coworker asks.

Correction, it's not just any coworker. It's Karina.

"It's not that bad."

"It's sludge," she smiles. "Your wife doesn't pack you lunch?"

She's always like this, friendly to a fault, talking to you like you're buddies, like just because your desk is across from hers and she gives you funny looks when the boss comes in, all red and yelling because the quarterly reports are down that you're 'besties'.

"She's busy," you say. It's not a lie, per se. Winter still has goals, still has things she wants to do in life. Sometimes, you have to remind this to yourself: love isn't the only passion you can feel.

Karina grabs the empty bowl of the lukewarm soup you just had, scoops some of her rice, still warm and steamy into it. She places two strips of pork belly, hot and sticky with it's spicy glaze over top the rice. "Well, you still need to eat properly."

It fills your stomach, the warmth touching places you thought gone dormant, and you huff because your tongue isn't used to the heat. You eat it anyway.

"See, you were hungry," Karina smiles. She glides into the seat next to you, like this is a school cafeteria and the rest of the seats are filled, but it's only you and her and maybe a couple of others in the whole of the room. "You can have more, if you'd like." She says it all high, crossing her legs as if her pencil skirt isn't tight and cheap and more than a little high. "I packed extra, cause, you know, you never eat well."

You share the meal, silent at first, but then you start laughing when she impersonates your boss and his fake french accent and the way his mustache hangs off his lips like mouse droppings she says, which makes you laugh harder even though you have no idea what it means.

You stop off at the fruit market on the way home to get Asian pears, because they're in season and Winter wore that sundress the other day which reminds you of how much she loves loved them.

---

"You can sleep with her, I won't mind."

She says it to you after the company barbecue, the one where you held her hand and kept her by your side while Karina talked your ear off.

"What?"

"Karina. She likes you."

You're splayed all over the couch, food pregnant with all sorts of marinated meats, and Winter stands there in the door. She looks so small.

"You're my wife."

"I don't love you, though." She doesn't say it with force, doesn't sharpen the words. She just, says them because they're true. "And I can't imagine what that's like. To be married to someone like me."

"What do you care?" you say. Again, not sharp, just curious.

"I can feel compassion."

"Can you? I'd think that's tied pretty closely to love, no?"

It's casual, it's uniform the way you and your wife are discussing the issue. You've talked about these things before, endured years of this, emphasized not in its grandness but in its paucity, and you've gotten used to it.

"I— I'm not sure."

You sit up a little bit. "What do you mean you're not sure?"

"I just know… I knew what it was like to feel loved, sometimes I still remember the ghost of it, and I think if I were you, I don't know, I'd feel sad."

You do your best not to break down. It would do no good. You'd be crying for her, sniffling and sobbing that you deserve better or I should love you 10x harder and maybe you'll feel something, it's my fault it's my fault it's my fault that you're like this because I don't love you enough, and all she'd do is stand there and watch.

So you bite it back, push away the love and say: "if it's okay with you."

---

You get all dressed up for the occasion. You're not really sure how this goes, you've only loved one person and you fell in love with her in high school, but Karina knows.

She sends you a picture, a mirror selfie, black dress that contours her ample breasts, cut in a way it shows off her figure those pencil skirts and blouses never could.

"She looks nice, have fun," Winter says. "Thanks for making dinner first."

You Uber to the bar, and she's already waiting there, and she must have done something with her legs, extended them because you've seen them at work and you've never let your mouth hang open the way it does now.

She flirts and flirts, and you even take a stab at it, tell her how you can't take your eyes off of her at work, how she's such a tease, always crossing her legs at lunch like you can't see how hot they are. It's not true, you're always thinking about Winter but she smiles and blushes and says I know, I can tell.

She takes your hand after the 5th or 6th drink, all smiles and that pretty little mole on her face, takes you into the taxi.

Her lips are on yours before the door even closes. She's so fucking warm it's insane, and suddenly you don't like that dress, you want it off. You whisper it into her ear, and she climbs on top of you. It's exhilarating, having someone want you the way Karina does, she straddles you at 60 kmph, moaning in your ear how she can't wait to get dicked down, and you moan back that she feels so warm. She laughs, says that it was bad flirting, but she kisses you and places your hands on her breasts.

The weight of them, or the alcohol, or just the presence of it all does something, and you're kissing her neck, swaying with the motion of the taxi, taking off her dress and latching a mouth to her hard nipple, telling her they're so big and weighty and fucking perfect.

"Not like your wife's, huh?" She groans, which only makes you suck them harder.

You have to be shunted out of the taxi, scrambling out and into her apartment.

She kisses you, rubs the bulge in your pants all the way through the lobby and up the elevator and through to the room. You pin her to the wall, plan on fucking her right there and then, but she puts both hands on your shoulders.

"Slow down baby." She drops to her knees, unbuttons your pants. Before they even drop to the floor, she has you in her hands, slapping your thick cock on her tongue. "I'm gonna make you feel so good."

She does.

It's not so much that it's practiced, it's the fact that she wants to be on her knees, pleasing you. In fact, it's sloppy and that makes it all the much better, the way she gurgles on it, the way it slips in and out of her mouth, that face she makes as you thrust into her.

You cum, and she doesn't spit it out, she keeps you in her mouth as she swallows it all down, before she gets up and drags you by the lapels of your shirt to her bedroom.

She drops her dress and you see everything, every little huff of her breath shaking her tits, the redness in her cheeks as you eye her.

"Are you gonna keep staring at me?" she asks, before bending over.

You grasp her by the hips and thrust, thrust and thrust and thrust until she's a mess of moans and groans.

"Your wife doesn't get it like this, does she?"

You're not even mad at Karina, she's been respectful to Winter and this arrangement the whole time, it must be the alcohol talking.

It only makes you thrust harder, pounding her. "That's right, she doesn't" you grunt, speeding up.

It's animalistic, it's full of passion, and the feeling wells up inside of you.

"Then give it to me!" she cries, cumming on your cock.

You pull out cumming, spraying Karina with your heavy load, covering her in your mess.

She groans, collapsing. "I fucking love your cock," she sings.

You fall back, tripping, landing on your ass, and Karina just lays there, satisfied.

She doesn't even question you when you scramble for your clothes, collect your things and go, go back to her.

When you get home, you're silent. You don't want to wake her, you don't even change or shower. You just climb to the foot of your bed where Winter is laying softly, peacefully, collapsing on the floor.

You weep.

"How was it?" she asks.

I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry

---

Winter doesn't much mind what happened. The next morning she wakes you.

"You didn't have to sleep on the floor, stupid, go take a shower." It's even a little endearing, she can be like that sometimes. But it's never anything more. "You didn't answer me last night."

"Hmm?" you say through the hangover and emptiness.

"I asked you how it was."

"Great," you reply. It won't hurt her anyway.

She smiles. "Better than me?"

You look away.

"I'll change your mind," she says, confident. "Go shower."

You don't doubt her. You know she'll jump on you tonight, ask you to fuck her, make her feel the way you made Karina feel, and you'll know deep down that she can't feel the way Karina felt.

You're sitting on the swinging bench in the backyard when Winter comes with a glass of water.

"What are you feeling right now?" she asks it like a scientist, like she already has a hypothesis and only needs to confirm them.

"I don't know," you reply.

"Tell me," she says.

"What's the point? You won't care anyway."

"I still care about you," she says, sitting down. "I just don't love you."

It stings again. "I'm sad."

"I can feel sad."

"It's worse than sad."

"But why? She was hot. You had sex."

"Because I love you. I can't explain it."

"Just try," she asks. You don't know what's going on in that head of hers.

"I want you more than anything in the world."

"You already have me, I'm your wife."

"It's not enough."

"I don't get it," she says. It's not hostile, just, rough around the edges.

"I want you forever."

"You have me forever."

"I want you to want—" you stop yourself. It's not her fault she can't love you. You don't want to get mad at her for that.

"I'm trying," she says. You know she is, you know if it were up to her she'd take down the live laugh love sign in your kitchen, or stop going out on valentines day, maybe just relax on anniversaries. "Do you remember when you built this bench?" she asks.

"No. Yes."

"High school shop class. You said it would be for our kids, since you always wanted a swinging bench." She's still not looking at you, still just looking out at your front yard. "Do you still want kids?"

You recoil in on yourself. You haven't thought of that in a while. No, that's not true. you think about it all the time, what it would be like to have kids. To have someone that you could love, have someone that could love you back.

You turn to her, serious now. She looks back. "One day, I'd have to tell them their mother doesn't love them. That she can't."

"But you would love them." She's serious too.

"I can't ask you to do that just for me."

"I think it'd be nice to have someone running around the yard."

"But you wouldn't love them."

"I could try."

It's confusing. You don't understand how a creature like her, incapable of love could make a decision like this. "It'd be pointless."

Something switches on her face, not recognition or even hurt, just a flicker. "You'd love them enough for the both of us, even if it is pointless."

She climbs on top of you that night, and she's still a bit cold, but warmer than usual. She closes her eyes when you kiss her neck, and she even kisses yours. She rides you and you cum inside and she says "I hope it's a girl."

---

It's a boy, and maybe it's pride, maybe it's dedication, maybe it's just an animalistic instinct to protect your blood, but she still hugs him when he asks for it, she still claps and smiles at his graduation, still squeezes your hand when he's standing at the altar, waiting for his wife to walk down and start their life lead with eternal love.

And you, you love the kid and he loves you back, he still comes back to hug the both of you and say I love you so much thank you for raising me and you cry back and Winter holds the both of you. He still comes back to play catch and to eat mom's cooking, because she started to cook when he was born.

You don't know if it's love or pride or that animalistic instinct, but you know that you love her and the kid, and that even if she can't love you back, you lived a life full of it.