ragnvindr

Even at his age, his dad looked powerful—broad shoulders filling out the tailored suit, silver hair neatly combed. GooWon felt a pang of respect mixed with frustration. His father worked too hard, always buried in the family business, the hotel empire that defined their lives. But lately, that intensity had turned toward GooWon's personal life, specifically toward Choi Sarang.

Sarang was everything to him—smart, kind, with a smile that lit up the room. They'd met at the hotel where she worked, and from the first moment, GooWon knew she was the one. But his father had opposed it fiercely. 'She's not fit for this family,' he'd said, his voice cold. 'Poor background, no connections. She'll drag you down.' GooWon had fought back, refusing to let go. After weeks of tension, when his father saw he wouldn't budge, he made a surprising proposal. 'Let her work as my secretary,' Go II Won had suggested. 'I'll train her, show her what it takes to be part of this world. If she proves herself, maybe she'll be worthy of being your wife.' GooWon had jumped at the chance, thrilled that his dad seemed to be coming around. Sarang had agreed too, her eyes shining with hope. 'This could be good for us,' she'd whispered to him that night, kissing him softly. 'Your father is accepting me, step by step.'

Now, a month into her new role, things felt off. GooWon stepped closer, clearing his throat. Go II Won slowly opened his eyes, the sharp gaze locking onto his son. He straightened up a bit, folding his hands on the desk. 'GooWon. What brings you here?'

GooWon didn't waste time. He crossed his arms, pacing a little in front of the desk. 'Dad, we need to talk about Sarang. You're working her too hard. She's exhausted all the time—comes home late, barely has energy to talk. We haven't had a proper date in weeks. What's the point of this training if it's pushing her away?'

Go II Won raised an eyebrow, his expression calm, almost amused. He leaned forward, steepling his fingers. 'Training, son. That's exactly what it is. She's learning the ropes of this business, how to handle high-stakes deals, manage the staff, and understand the legacy. If she's going to be your wife, she needs to be prepared. You two can spend the rest of your lives together. What's the rush? A few late nights now will make her stronger later.'

GooWon shook his head, frustration building. 'It's not just late nights—it's every day. She's buried under paperwork, meetings that run forever. I get the training, but this feels like you're punishing her. Or me. Why can't you ease up a little? Let her breathe.'

His father's eyes narrowed slightly, but his voice stayed even. 'Punishing? Don't be dramatic. This is how I built this empire—through hard work, with no shortcuts. If she can't handle it, perhaps she's not suited for it. And you—rushing into marriage without preparation? That's how mistakes happen. Patience, GooWon. You'll thank me one day.'

'Patience?' GooWon shot back, his voice rising. 'You've never liked her from the start. Admit it—this is your way of breaking us up. Giving her impossible tasks, watching her crack under the pressure. I love her, Dad. She's not some project for you to mold or break.'

Go II Won stood up slowly, towering behind the desk, his presence filling the room. 'Love? Love doesn't pay the bills or run a company. I opposed her because I care about your future. This secretary role is a chance—a test. If she passes, fine. If not...' He trailed off, shrugging. 'Don't storm in here accusing me of sabotage. Go back to your own work.'

GooWon's face flushed red, fists clenching at his sides. 'This isn't over. You're ruining everything.' He turned on his heel, slamming the door behind him as he stormed out, the echo bouncing down the hallway. His heart pounded, anger mixing with worry for Sarang. Little did he know, the real betrayal was unfolding right under his nose.

Go II Won exhaled slowly, sinking back into his chair. The office fell quiet again, save for the soft, wet sounds coming from under the desk. He glanced down, his lips curling into a satisfied smirk. There, hidden in the shadows beneath the large wooden surface, was Choi Sarang—his son's girlfriend, on her knees, her pretty mouth wrapped around his thick cock. Her lips stretched wide around the girth, cheeks hollowing as she bobbed her head up and down, taking him deep into her throat. Saliva glistened on his shaft, dripping down to his heavy balls, which she cupped gently in one hand.

'Sarang,' he murmured, his voice low and rough. 'Your boyfriend—my son—just left. He came in complaining about you.'

She didn't pull off right away. Instead, she nodded slightly, the motion making her head dip forward again, sliding his cock deeper into her warm, wet mouth. Her tongue pressed flat against the underside, swirling around the veiny length as she sucked harder. The vibration from her hum of acknowledgment sent a jolt through him, and Go II Won groaned deeply, his hand dropping to tangle in her hair, guiding her rhythm. 'Fuck, that's it. Keep going, just like that.' Her bobs quickened for a moment, lips sealing tight, slurping sounds filling the space under the desk as she worked him over, her throat relaxing to take more of his impressive size.

He leaned back further, eyes half-lidded, savoring the view. From his angle, peering down past the edge of the desk, he could see her body perfectly—curled up on the plush carpet, her blouse unbuttoned just enough to let her full breasts spill out, nipples hard and pink against the lace of her bra. Her skirt was hiked up around her waist, exposing her bare ass cheeks, round and firm, with a hint of her black thong pulled to the side. Her thighs pressed together, but he knew her pussy was soaked, always ready for him after these secret sessions. Strands of her dark hair fell across her face, framing those beautiful features—high cheekbones, full lips stretched obscenely around his dick, eyes looking up at him with that mix of submission and hunger.

God, she was stunning. The first time GooWon had introduced her, bringing her to a family dinner months ago, Go II Won had been floored. She'd walked in with that bright smile, her simple dress hugging her curves, and he'd felt an instant pull—raw, possessive desire. While his son droned on about how perfect she was, all Go II Won could think was how he wanted her for himself. Her laugh, the way her eyes sparkled, that innocent charm hiding a body made for sin. He opposed the relationship not just for class reasons, but because he couldn't stand the idea of her in his son's bed. No, she deserved a real man, someone who could handle her fire.

His plan had clicked into place perfectly. Proposing the secretary job was genius—bringing her close, under his control, day after day. At first, it was subtle seduction: lingering looks during meetings, a hand brushing her lower back as he passed files, compliments whispered in the empty office about how sexy she looked in her pencil skirts. She'd blush, pull away at first, loyal to GooWon. But he wore her down over that month—late nights working,' where he'd pour her wine, listen to her frustrations about the heavy workload, then pull her onto his lap for 'stress relief.' The first kiss happened on a rainy evening, her lips soft and hesitant against his, but he deepened it, tasting her surrender.

The first fuck came a week later. He'd cornered her against the desk after hours, his hands roaming her body, fingers slipping under her skirt to find her panties drenched. 'You want this,' he'd growled, and she hadn't denied it. He bent her over, yanked her thong aside, and thrust his large, thick cock into her tight pussy, stretching her wide. She gasped, nails digging into the wood, but soon moaned like a whore, pushing back for more. That one time turned into two the next day—her riding him in the chair, tits bouncing as she came hard on his shaft. Then three, four... before long, she was sneaking into his office unprompted, begging for it. Now, a full month in, she craved his cock more than anything. Couldn't make it through a whole day without getting pounded—bent over the desk, on her knees like now, or spread out on the couch with her legs over his shoulders. GooWon got the scraps, the tired version of her, while he claimed her fully, body and soul.

Sarang finally pulled off his cock with a wet pop, strings of saliva connecting her lips to the swollen head. She licked them away, her tongue flicking the slit to lap up the bead of precum there. Then she rose slowly, crawling out from under the desk on all fours, her ass swaying enticingly. Go II Won watched, mesmerized, as she stood and straddled him, rubbing her body against his. Her breasts pressed into his chest, nipples scraping through the thin fabric of his shirt, while her hips ground down, her wet pussy lips sliding along the length of his slick cock. She wrapped her arms around his neck, hugging him close, her breath hot against his ear.

'Mmm, boss,' she purred, her voice teasing and sultry. 'You just stole your son's girlfriend right out from under him. How does that feel? Having me here, sucking your big dick while he whines outside?'

Go II Won chuckled low, his hands immediately gripping her ass cheeks, squeezing the firm flesh hard enough to leave marks. He kneaded them, pulling her tighter against him, feeling the heat of her core. 'Feels fucking perfect. But tell me, Sarang—don't you love my son? GooWon thinks you're his.'

She leaned back a little, her eyes locking onto his, a wicked smile playing on her lips. Her hand reached down between them, wrapping around his thick shaft, stroking it slowly from base to tip. The skin slid over the veins, her thumb circling the head, smearing the precum. 'Of course I love him. He's sweet, caring... but you? I love you more. Especially this cock.' She squeezed it, admiring its length—easily nine inches, thick as her wrist, pulsing in her grip. 'It's so huge, so much better than his. Fills me up completely, stretches my pussy until I can't think straight.' Her other hand cupped his balls, rolling them gently, feeling their weight, the way they tightened under her touch.

His fingers dug deeper into her ass, spreading the cheeks apart, one tip brushing her tight hole. 'Keep stroking it like that. Yeah, just like that—slow and firm.' He thrust up into her hand, groaning as she pumped him faster, her palm gliding with the mix of spit and precum. Her body rubbed against him more insistently now, tits mashing into his chest, her skirt still bunched up, thong soaked and useless. He could feel her juices dripping onto his cock, coating it further.

'You know what he just said?' Go II Won murmured, nipping at her earlobe. 'Complained that you're not dating him enough. Too busy with work. Poor boy has no idea.'

Sarang laughed softly, a breathy sound that turned into a moan as she ground her clit against his shaft. 'Mmm, yeah? Well, I was busy getting fucked by my boyfriend's father. Bent over your desk, your thick cock slamming into my pussy while he waited downstairs. Or on my knees, swallowing your cum instead of kissing him goodnight.' She stroked him harder, twisting her wrist at the top, making his hips buck. Her fingers played with his balls, tugging lightly, then massaging the sensitive skin behind them. 'He thinks the work is the problem. If only he knew I'm addicted to this dick, craving it every hour.'

Go II Won's grip on her ass tightened, pulling her down so the head of his cock nudged her entrance, teasing her folds. She whimpered, rocking against it, but he held her there, not letting her sink down yet. 'Addicted, huh? Say it again.'

'I need your cock, sir,' she whispered, her voice husky, eyes glazed with lust. 'More than GooWon's, more than anything. Pound me with it—make me forget him.' Her hand kept working him, up and down, slick sounds filling the office as she jerked his massive length, her thumb pressing into the vein along the underside.

He groaned again, the pleasure building, but he wasn't done teasing. His hands roamed up from her ass, sliding under her blouse to cup her breasts, thumbs flicking her nipples until they pebbled harder. She arched into his touch, her strokes faltering for a second as she gasped. The air between them crackled with forbidden heat—the thrill of the risk, the betrayal making every touch electric. Outside, the office buzzed with staff, oblivious to the secretary riding her boss's thigh, playing with his cock like it was her favorite toy.

Sarang leaned in closer, her lips brushing his. 'What if he walks back in? Catches me like this—your hands on my ass, my pussy dripping on your dick.' She squeezed his balls gently, rolling them in her palm, feeling them draw up as his arousal spiked.

'Let him,' Go II Won growled, slapping her ass cheek lightly, the smack echoing softly. 'He'd see how much you prefer a real man.' His fingers traced her crack again, dipping toward her soaked pussy, feeling the wetness there. She was ready, always so eager for him.

Their play continued, her hand never stopping its rhythm on his cock—long, deliberate strokes that had him throbbing, precum leaking steadily. She admired it openly, biting her lip. 'Look at this monster. So thick, veiny... GooWon's is nothing compared to it.' Her words fueled him, and he fondled her ass more roughly, spreading her wide, imagining taking her right there on the desk.

The conversation lingered in the air, her teasing about the theft, his questions probing her divided loyalties. She reaffirmed it all—love for her boyfriend, but deeper, dirtier devotion to him and his cock. As she played with his balls, tugging and squeezing just right, he felt the edge approaching, but held back, wanting to savor her submission a little longer.

Go II Won held Sarang close for a moment longer, his hands still kneading her ass cheeks, feeling the soft flesh yield under his fingers. Her body pressed against him, hot and needy, her hand still wrapped around his thick cock, stroking it lazily. But his mind shifted to the risk—the door GooWon had just slammed, the anger in his son's voice. He couldn't have the boy storming back in, demanding to see her, ruining everything. 'Sarang,' he said, his voice firm but low, pulling her hand off his shaft with a gentle but insistent tug. 'Call him. My son. Pacify him. Tell him you're fine, that the training is going well. Make sure he doesn't come looking for you again today.'

Sarang pouted, her full lips curving into a playful frown as she sat back on his thighs, her pussy still grinding lightly against his leg. 'Call GooWon? Now? While I'm like this?' She glanced down at his cock, hard and throbbing between them, the head glistening with her saliva and his precum. Her fingers twitched, wanting to touch it again, but he held her wrist. She teased him, leaning in to nip at his jaw. 'Are you afraid of your own son finding out? Scared he'll catch me with your big dick down my throat?'

He chuckled darkly, his eyes narrowing as he released her hand only to guide it away from his groin. With a deliberate motion, he shifted his hips, moving his cock out of her reach, letting it slap against his stomach, out of her grasp. 'Afraid? No. But you should be. If we're discovered, it's over. No more fucking this tight pussy of yours. No more sucking my cock whenever you crave it. You'd lose all this.' He gestured vaguely to his body, but his eyes locked on hers, watching the disappointment flash across her face.

She groaned loudly, a frustrated whine escaping her lips as she tried to lean forward, but he held her back with one strong hand on her shoulder. 'Ugh, don't do that. Give it back.' Her eyes followed his cock, now just inches away but untouchable, pulsing with need. She bit her lower lip, her mind racing. Should she make the call? Part of her wanted to rebel, to keep teasing him until he begged. But then he started stroking himself—his large hand wrapping around the base, sliding up the veiny length slowly, deliberately. He looked right at her, his gaze intense, a smug smile tugging at his lips as he watched her beautiful face flush with desire. Her eyes were glued to his cock, wide and hungry, as she gulped audibly, her throat working. God, she thought, how could she say no? If she didn't call, he might stop this—stop giving her that massive dick she needed so badly. It filled her completely, made her cum harder than anything GooWon ever could. Without it, she'd go crazy.

Another groan slipped out, deeper this time, as she snatched his phone from the desk edge where he'd tossed it earlier. She glared at the old man, her annoyance mixing with lust, and slapped his chest lightly with her free hand—thwack—the sound sharp but playful. 'The things I do for you and your cock,' she muttered, her voice breathy. 'You've made it impossible for me to live without that inside me. Stretching my pussy, pounding me until I scream. You better take responsibility after this—fuck me senseless, make me your slut all night.' Her words hung in the air, kinky promise laced with demand, as she unlocked the phone and dialed GooWon's number. The ringtone started, echoing softly in the office.

Go II Won leaned in, his breath hot against her ear, whispering as the phone buzzed. 'Good girl. Now go down. Suck my cock while you talk to him. Make it sloppy—show me how much you love it.' His hand pushed gently on her shoulder, guiding her down.

Sarang obeyed without hesitation, her body sliding off his lap like liquid silk. She trailed her hands down his chest, fingers scraping over his shirt buttons, feeling the hard muscles beneath. Lower still, over his abs, until she was on her knees between his spread thighs. The carpet was soft under her, but she barely noticed. She placed the phone on loudspeaker and set it on his thigh, right next to his heavy balls, the screen lighting up as the call connected. With her other hand, she gripped his cock at the base, angling it toward her mouth. Her tongue darted out first, licking the tip in a slow circle, tasting the salty precum that beaded there. She lapped at it like a kitten with cream, her eyes flicking up to meet his, full of mischief and heat. Then, as GooWon's voice came through—'Sarang? Hey, what's up?'—she parted her lips and took the head into her mouth, sucking gently, her cheeks hollowing.

'Hey, baby,' she said around the cock, her words muffled slightly but clear enough. She pulled off just enough to speak, her tongue still pressing against the underside, then dove back down, slurping wetly as she bobbed once. The sound was obscene—slurp, lick—echoing a bit through the speaker. GooWon paused on the other end.

'Sarang? You okay? What was that noise? Sounds like... eating or something?'

She smiled around the girth in her mouth, stroking the shaft with her hand now, twisting her wrist as she licked the tip again, lapping broad and flat from balls to head. Go II Won groaned softly above her, his hand in her hair, but she kept her eyes on him, winking as she sucked harder. 'Yeah, I'm eating,' she replied, popping off with a wet smack, strings of saliva connecting her lips to his cock. She stroked him faster, her palm slick, then leaned in to lick the slit, tonguing the precum. 'Just grabbed a quick bite. You know, hot dogs. Long, thick ones. Juicy and hard to handle.' Her voice dripped with double meaning, kinky tease hidden in plain words. She took him deeper this time, her mouth stretching around the thickness, bobbing halfway down as she hummed—mmmph—the vibration making Go II Won grip her hair tighter.

GooWon laughed lightly, though his tone still carried that edge of frustration from earlier. 'Hot dogs? Wish I could've gone with you. We haven't had lunch together in forever. Sounds messy—hope you're not making a pig of yourself.'

Sarang's eyes sparkled with excitement as she looked up at her lover, her boyfriend's father, while her tender mouth worked his cock. She pulled back, stroking the wet length with both hands now, one pumping the shaft, the other fondling his balls, rolling them gently. 'Oh, it's so messy,' she said, her voice husky. 'Dripping everywhere. But I love it—sucking on it, feeling it fill my mouth. The way it throbs when I lick the tip just right.' She demonstrated, lapping at the head again, her tongue swirling, then sucking the tip like a lollipop—slurp, pop. The sounds carried over the phone, wet and rhythmic. GooWon shifted uncomfortably on his end, but she kept going, making it adventurous, her free hand slipping between her own thighs to rub her clit through her soaked thong, heightening her arousal.

'Uh, yeah... anyway,' GooWon cleared his throat, trying to steer the conversation. 'I just talked to my dad. He's driving you crazy with all this work, isn't he? I told him to ease up. You sound out of breath—everything okay?'

She bobbed deeper now, taking more of his father's cock into her throat, gagging softly—gluck—as it hit the back. She pulled off coughing lightly, a string of spit dangling, then stroked him firmly. 'Mmm, no, baby, it's fine. The training is going great. Your dad's really... going hard on me.' She grinned up at Go II Won, her words laced with kink, as she sucked his balls into her mouth one by one, licking the wrinkled skin, then trailed her tongue up the shaft. 'I like it hard, though. Makes me feel alive. Pushes me to my limits.' Her hand pumped faster, slick sounds joining her words—schlick, schlick.

GooWon sighed, his anger softening a bit. 'You're such a tough girl, Sarang. Always handling everything. Just... tell me if he's being too rough, okay? I don't want you suffering.'

She moaned around the cock then, unable to hold it back—mmph—as she deepthroated him, her nose brushing Go II Won's pubic hair. The choke came next—gurk—wet and throaty, saliva bubbling at the corners of her mouth. She pulled off, gasping, gulping air, then licked the shaft clean. 'I can take it,' she said breathlessly, her voice thick with lust. 'Love when it's rough. Your dad knows how to... train me right. Makes me wet—er, I mean, ready for more.' She winked at Go II Won, stroking him with both hands now, twisting and pulling, her thumbs pressing the veins. Then she dove back in, sucking hard, her head bobbing rhythmically—slurp, gluck, moan—the sounds punctuating her sentences as she mumbled around the girth. 'Don't worry about me, baby. I'm handling his... big load just fine.'

From Go II Won's view, looking down between his spread thighs, the sight was pure filth—kinky perfection. Sarang knelt there, her stunning face tilted up toward him, those high cheekbones flushed pink, her full lips stretched wide around his thick girth. Her tender mouth worked him expertly, sliding up and down, cheeks hollowed with suction, eyes locked on his with pure devotion. Strands of her dark hair fell across her forehead, sticking with sweat, as she bobbed, her tongue visible sometimes when she pulled back to lap at the tip. Her business skirt had ridden up completely, bunched at her waist, exposing her round ass cheeks clad in sheer black stockings—no panties underneath, just the garters holding them up. Her pussy lips peeked out, swollen and glistening, juices trailing down her thighs as she rubbed herself subtly.

Her shirt was half-open, buttons undone from their earlier play, revealing her perky boobs spilling over the lacy bra, nipples hard and straining against the fabric. They jiggled with every bob of her head, every stroke of her hand on his balls. And the way she talked—happy, cheerful even, chatting with her boyfriend like it was normal, all while his father's massive cock filled her mouth, making her choke and moan. She was a total slut inside, no doubt. That cute, beautiful, kind woman GooWon thought he knew—the one who smiled sweetly at family dinners, who blushed at compliments—had transformed under Go II Won's touch. Now she was sneaky, naughty, a horny little vixen who craved betrayal, who got off on the risk. Sucking cock while reassuring her boyfriend? It was adventurous, taboo, her dual life fueling the fire between her legs. She gulped down more saliva mixed with precum—gulp—as she took him deeper, her throat bulging slightly, eyes watering but sparkling with excitement.

GooWon kept talking, oblivious. 'Alright, if you say so. Just miss you, that's all. When can we meet up?'

Sarang hummed in response—mm-hmm—vibrating around the cock, then pulled off to speak, her hand never stopping its pump. 'Soon, baby. After this... session. I'll be all worn out, but in a good way.' She licked the underside from base to tip, slow and teasing, then sucked the head hard—slurp—before bobbing again, choking lightly—gurk—as she forced more in. Her moans slipped out, muffled but audible, turning the call into something dangerously erotic. Go II Won watched, enthralled, his hand guiding her head now, fucking her mouth gently while she played the perfect girlfriend.

The conversation stretched, her words interspersed with wet sounds—lick, suck, stroke—each one making GooWon's responses falter a bit, though he chalked it up to her 'eating.' She teased more with double meanings: 'This hot dog's so thick, baby—stretches my jaw. But I keep coming back for more.' Her voice was excited, breathy, as she lapped at his tip, tongue flicking rapidly, then deepthroated with a long moan—ahh-gluck—her body shuddering. Go II Won groaned low, the pleasure building, but he savored it, watching his son's girlfriend degrade herself so willingly, her slutty side fully unleashed in the privacy of his office.

She stroked his balls harder now, squeezing them, feeling them tighten, while her mouth worked the shaft—up, down, twist. 'Yeah, GooWon, your dad's the best trainer. Handles me just right—deep and thorough.' Another choke—cough-gluck—as she gagged, pulling off to gasp, spit dripping onto his thighs, then diving back in. Her ass wiggled in the air, stockings taut over her curves, pussy clenching visibly as she got herself off on the kink. Happy didn't even cover it—she beamed around the cock, eyes twinkling, loving every second of the deception.

GooWon finally relaxed, his voice softer. 'Okay, love you. Talk soon.'

'Love you too,' she mumbled around the girth, sucking hard one last time—slurp—before the call ended. She pulled off fully then, panting, her face a mess of saliva and precum, but her smile wicked. Go II Won pulled her up immediately, ready to claim her as promised.

The call ended with a soft click, GooWon's voice fading away, leaving the office thick with tension and the scent of arousal. Sarang knelt there for a second, her lips swollen and shiny from sucking Go II Won's thick cock, a trail of saliva and precum dripping from her chin onto her open shirt. She looked up at him with those big, hungry eyes, her chest heaving, perky boobs rising and falling in the lacy bra. Go II Won couldn't wait anymore. He reached down, his strong hands grabbing her under the arms, pulling her up roughly onto his lap. She straddled him instantly, her wet pussy pressing against his hard thigh through the thin barrier of her stockings, grinding instinctively as she let out a needy whimper.

He cupped her face with both hands, his thumbs brushing her cheeks, and crashed his mouth onto hers. The kiss was fierce, no holding back—his tongue plunged straight in, licking against hers in wet, sloppy strokes. He tasted himself on her lips, the salty mix of his precum and her spit, and it drove him wild. Sarang moaned into his mouth, her tongue tangling with his, sucking on it like she had his cock just moments ago. He licked every corner of her mouth, exploring her teeth, the roof, then delving deep again, their tongues sliding and twisting in a messy dance. Saliva built up fast, overflowing from the corners of their joined lips, trickling down her chin in warm rivulets.

Go II Won broke the kiss just enough to trail his mouth down her neck, his tongue flat and broad, lapping at her skin like he was marking territory. He sucked hard on the spot just below her ear, making her gasp sharply—'Ah!'—her body arching into him. His teeth grazed her collarbone, nipping lightly, then he licked a long line up the other side of her neck, tasting the salt of her sweat mixed with the faint perfume she wore. Sarang's hands clutched his shoulders, nails digging in, as shivers ran down her spine. 'Fuck, yes,' she whispered, her voice breathy and broken.

His hands moved fast now, grabbing the front of her shirt—the crisp white blouse already half-unbuttoned from earlier. With a growl, he ripped it open completely, the buttons popping off and scattering across the desk and floor like tiny explosions. Sarang gasped again, louder this time—'Oh god!'—her eyes widening in surprise and excitement as the fabric tore, exposing her lacy black bra fully. Her perky boobs bounced free from the confines, the bra cups barely holding them, nipples already hard and poking through the thin lace. Go II Won didn't waste a second; he buried his face in her chest, his tongue licking all over the soft, pale skin. He started at the top, between her cleavage, lapping broad strokes that made her skin glisten with his spit.

He pushed the bra down roughly, freeing her tits completely, and latched onto one nipple with his mouth. Sucking hard, he swirled his tongue around the stiff peak, feeling it harden even more under the wet heat. Sarang cried out—'Mmmph, yes, suck it!'—her head falling back as pleasure shot straight to her core. He bit down gently, tugging the nipple between his teeth, then licked it soothingly before moving to the other one. His saliva coated every inch—dripping down the curves of her boobs, pooling in the valley between them, making her chest shiny and slick. He licked lower, across the undersides, even dipping into her cleavage again, his stubble scraping her sensitive skin and adding to the raw sensation.

All the while, his hands were busy below. He grabbed her thighs, spreading her legs wide apart over his lap, her skirt hiked up to her waist like a belt. Her ass cheeks spread slightly, and he could feel the heat from her pussy radiating through the sheer stockings. His fingers traced up her inner thighs, rough and demanding, until they reached her crotch. He rubbed her pussy lips over the thin nylon fabric, pressing firmly against the swollen folds. The material was already damp, clinging to her wetness, but as he rubbed harder—circling her clit through it, then sliding along her slit—her juices soaked through fast. 'Slut,' he murmured against her tit, his voice rough with lust as he sucked her nipple again. 'Why aren't you wearing panties? Just these fucking stockings?'

Sarang moaned, her hips bucking into his hand, chasing the friction. His fingers pressed deeper, rubbing her pussy lips back and forth, the stockings turning soggy and transparent where her arousal seeped out. She was drenched, her cream coating the fabric, making it stick to her skin like a second layer of slick. Every stroke sent sparks through her, her clit throbbing under his thumb as he circled it roughly. 'Ahh, because... because of you,' she panted, her voice hitching with each rub. 'My panties are always wet around you. Soaked through before I even get here. Thinking about your cock all day... I decided not to wear them anymore. Easier to just let my pussy drip for you.' Her words were filthy, honest, and they made his dick twitch hard against her thigh.

He groaned in approval, his mouth leaving her boobs to trail back up. His saliva had coated her entire upper body now—her neck shiny, chest heaving with wet trails running down to her stomach, her bra pushed aside and dripping. He captured her lips again in a sloppy, tongue-heavy kiss, their mouths open wide, tongues thrusting like they were fucking. Saliva poured freely now, trickling from her mouth down her chin, splashing onto her exposed tits, and sliding over her nipples. It was messy, adventurous—kinky in how it marked her, making her smell like him, taste like him. She sucked on his tongue greedily, her own spit mixing in, the sounds wet and obscene—smack, slurp—as they devoured each other.

Pulling back just enough to speak, his breath hot on her lips, Go II Won asked, 'Does my son kiss you like this? Does GooWon make your mouth this sloppy, cover you in his spit like a good little whore?'

Sarang leaned back, her head thrown back in ecstasy, exposing her throat as she enjoyed the dual assault—his tongue now licking down her neck again while his fingers kept rubbing her pussy over the stockings. The friction was intense, her lips parting easily under the pressure, her wetness making squelching sounds with each stroke. She was so soaked that the stockings clung transparently, outlining her swollen clit and puffy folds. 'No... ahh, fuck, no,' she moaned between gasps, her body trembling. 'He doesn't. Never knew I could be kissed like this—fucked like this—before you. Sex with my exes? With GooWon? It was just... an obligation. Something I had to do. Quick, boring fucks that left me empty.'

His fingers sped up, rubbing harder, pressing into her entrance through the fabric, making her hips jerk. She was gushing now, her cream soaking the stockings until they were heavy and soggy, juices trickling down to her ass crack. 'But you... oh god, your pounding changed everything. Surprised me how a good fuck from an old man like you could flip my life. Now it's my priority—craving cock, your cock. My pussy throbs every time you're near. Even after sex with GooWon... I finger myself to orgasm thinking about you. Your thick dick stretching me while he sleeps right next to me, clueless.' Her confession poured out in moans, raw and explicit, her body on fire from the rubbing.

Naturally, her hand drifted down, finding his cock again. It was rock-hard, veiny, and throbbing, still slick from her earlier blowjob. She wrapped her fingers around it, stroking slowly at first—up and down the length, thumb circling the head to spread the leaking precum. Then faster, twisting her wrist, feeling it pulse in her grip. Go II Won growled low, the sound vibrating against her skin as he licked her earlobe. His other hand joined the first between her legs, and with deliberate slowness, he gripped the crotch of her stockings. The fabric stretched taut over her pussy, then—rip—he tore it open with his fingers, the nylon splitting with a sharp sound. A hole gaped there now, exposing her bare, dripping pussy directly.

His fingers dove in immediately, rubbing her pussy walls raw—two thick digits sliding along the slick inner folds, parting them to circle her entrance before pushing inside. He curled them, stroking her G-spot, making her shudder violently. 'Fuck!' she cried, her body trembling, legs shaking as waves of pleasure hit her. Moans spilled from her lips—'Ahh, yes, deeper!'—her walls clenching around his invading fingers, sucking them in with her wetness. He pumped them slowly at first, then faster, the squelch of her arousal loud in the room, her cream coating his hand up to the wrist.

Sarang grabbed his neck with her free hand, pulling him close, and kissed him back passionately. Her mouth attacked his, tongue thrusting deep, tasting the mix of their saliva—salty, thick, addictive. She sucked on his tongue hard, drawing it into her mouth like a mini cock, swirling her own around it. She wanted more, gulping down his spit as it flooded her mouth, letting it trickle down her throat. 'Mmm, tastes so good,' she murmured against his lips, breaking only to nip at his lower lip. She loved it—the flavor of him, the way it lingered. She wanted to smell like him everywhere, his scent on her skin, in her hair, so when GooWon touched her later, he'd unknowingly fuck a pussy already ruined by his father.

Her strokes on his cock quickened, hand flying up and down the shaft, squeezing the base before gliding to the tip. Precum oozed over her fingers, making it slick and easy. Go II Won's fingers fucked her harder now, three of them stretching her walls, rubbing every ridge inside her. She trembled non-stop, moans turning into whimpers—'Oh shit, don't stop!'—her pussy spasming, close to the edge already. The rip in her stockings framed her exposed sex perfectly, his hand disappearing into the hole, knuckles deep. Saliva from their kiss dripped onto her chest again, mixing with the earlier coating, running in rivers down her body to her navel.

She pulled back from the kiss, gasping for air, but her eyes locked on his—dark with lust. 'I want you to pound me after this,' she demanded breathlessly, her hand jerking his cock faster, feeling it throb. 'Fill me up so GooWon can fuck your cum later. Make me reek of you, old man. Your pathetic son deserves to slide into a sloppy seconds pussy.' Her words were kinky fire, adventurous in their betrayal, pushing him to the brink. He finger-fucked her relentlessly, thumb now rubbing her clit in circles, making her buck and cry out, her body a shaking mess of need.

Go II Won kissed her neck again, licking the saliva trails he'd left, his free hand squeezing one of her perky boobs, pinching the nipple until she yelped. Her reactions were electric—every rub of his fingers inside her made her walls flutter, her juices squirting lightly around his hand, soaking his palm. The stockings hung in tatters now, the rip widening as he worked her, her ass cheeks fully exposed and jiggling with each thrust of his fingers. She was lost in it, head thrown back once more, moans echoing off the office walls. 'Yes, finger that slutty pussy... it's yours,' she panted, stroking him in rhythm with his movements, their bodies synced in filthy harmony.

The kiss reignited, sloppier than before—tongues battling, saliva spilling everywhere, coating her chin, neck, and tits anew. She sucked his tongue deeper, humming with pleasure, tasting every drop of him like it was nectar. Her mind raced with the kink of it all: the risk, the cheating, the way his old body dominated her young one so completely. She wanted him to own her, to change her forever, just like he already had. Her hand pumped his cock relentlessly, nails grazing the veins, while his fingers plunged deeper, rubbing her walls until she was trembling on the edge, ready to shatter.

But he slowed just a tease, drawing it out, making her whine in frustration. 'Beg for it,' he whispered against her mouth, his fingers circling her G-spot without thrusting. Saliva dripped from their lips onto his cock, her hand using it as lube to stroke smoother. 'Tell me how much you need this old man's cock over your boyfriend's.' Sarang's eyes fluttered, her body quivering, but she leaned in, kissing him hard, sucking his tongue as she moaned her answer into his mouth.

The office air was thick with their scents—her sweet arousal, his musky sweat, the wet sounds of fingers in pussy and hand on cock filling the space. She grabbed his neck tighter, pulling him impossibly closer, her perky boobs pressing against his chest, nipples dragging through the saliva slick. Every lick, every rub, every stroke built the adventure higher, kinky layers of taboo wrapping around them like chains. She was his now, utterly, and the thought of GooWon made it all the dirtier.

Sarang's moans grew louder, her pussy clenching hard around his fingers as he rubbed her walls faster again, the direct contact electric without the stockings in the way. Juices flowed freely, dripping down his wrist, pooling on his thigh where she straddled him. Her hand on his cock squeezed tighter, stroking from base to tip in long, firm pulls, thumb pressing the slit to milk more precum. 'Fuck, your dick is so hard... bigger than his,' she gasped between kisses, her tongue licking his lips clean of spit. She wanted to drown in him, to carry his taste home, let it linger when GooWon kissed her goodnight.

Go II Won added a twist, his fingers scissoring inside her, stretching her pussy wider, rubbing the sensitive inner spots that made her vision blur. She shuddered violently—'Ahh, shit, right there!'—her legs spreading even further, heels digging into the chair. The rip in her stockings tore more with the movement, exposing more of her thighs, the garters snapping loose. Saliva from his mouth trailed down her body as he kissed lower again, licking a path from her collarbone to her nipple, sucking it into his mouth while his fingers worked her relentlessly.

She threw her head back once more, exposing her neck for him to bite, her hand never stopping on his cock—jerking it with expert twists, feeling the veins pulse under her palm. The kink deepened with every second: the power he held, the way she'd transformed from dutiful girlfriend to cock-hungry slut under his influence. Even now, post-call, her pussy throbbed not just from his touch but from the memory of sucking him while talking to GooWon. It was adventurous, pushing boundaries, and she craved more—the risk of getting caught, the thrill of betrayal.

Their sloppy kissing resumed, tongues dueling fiercely, saliva cascading down her chin in thick strings, landing on her heaving tits and making them glisten under the office light. She sucked his tongue like it was his cock, hollowing her cheeks, drawing out more of his essence. 'I love your taste,' she murmured, voice muffled by the kiss. 'Want to swallow you all day. Make GooWon wonder why I taste different.' Her words spurred him on, his fingers thrusting deeper, rubbing her walls until her moans turned to screams—muffled against his mouth.

Her body trembled nonstop now, on the precipice, his cock leaking steadily in her stroking hand. The scene was pure filth: her torn shirt hanging off her shoulders, bra shoved down, boobs coated in spit and bouncing with each finger-fuck. Stockings ripped open, pussy exposed and gushing, ass grinding against his lap. She grabbed his neck harder, kissing with desperate passion, tasting every bit of him, wanting to be marked inside and out. The old man's majestic cock waited, but for now, his fingers owned her, rubbing her to the brink in kinky, explicit detail.

Finally, as her walls fluttered wildly, she broke the kiss to beg—' Please, fuck me now... but keep fingering me like this forever.' But he just smiled, rubbing harder, drawing out her pleasure, the adventure far from over

He didn't pull out immediately. Instead, his fingers, slick with her essence, slowed their frenetic pace inside her, shifting to a deep, agonizingly slow stroke that dragged across every wall of her passage. He kept one finger pressed hard against the nub of her clitoris, a constant, blinding pressure that was unbearable in its pleasure. He watched her face contort, her eyes squeezed shut, a silent, guttural noise escaping her throat. He wanted her begging, wanted her completely undone. The sheer power of making her wait, of possessing her pleasure, was a drug as intoxicating as her scent.

"Not yet," he finally murmured, his voice a low, gravelly rumble against her ear, its simple finality shattering her momentary peace. "You have to be completely ready for me, Sarang. I want every single part of you to tremble and scream for what you're about to receive."

He finally, slowly, agonizingly, withdrew his fingers, a sticky, sucking sound accompanying the action. The sudden emptiness was a shock, a profound, immediate absence that made her whimper and try to close her legs instinctively. But he wouldn't let her. His hands clamped down on her hips, pressing her firmly against his thighs, keeping her spread open, vulnerable, and totally exposed in the office chair.

"Look at me," he commanded, his eyes boring into hers. They were dark, intense, and filled with a raw, undeniable hunger that mirrored her own. "I want to see the moment I take you."

His hands moved to the ruined remains of her clothing. The torn shirt was already hanging by threads; he simply ripped it completely from her shoulders, the fabric tearing with a sharp sound that echoed the breaking of her self-control. The bra, already pushed down to her midriff, was dispatched with the same ruthless efficiency, his fingers undoing the clasp with a practiced ease before tossing it onto the floor. Her breasts, glistening with spit and sweat, were now fully exposed, their nipples dark and erect, waiting.

He then focused on the garters and the tattered stockings. The one on her left leg was almost entirely shredded around her thigh; he simply ran his hand up, tearing the thin fabric down to the ankle. The right one, however, he treated with more care. He ran a fingertip along the seam that went up her inner thigh, pausing at the point where the stocking met her dripping, engorged cunt. With a sharp twist of his wrist, he didn't remove it, but instead, he tore a large, strategic hole in the center of the stocking's material, right where her pussy was.

Now she was an image of pure, deliberate ruin: naked torso, one leg bare, the other still encased in a high-thigh stocking with a gaping, dark hole framing her throbbing sex. It was utterly filthy, an act of calculated defilement that made her core clench with a thrill that bordered on terror. The exposure, the deliberate, controlled violation of her clothes, was as erotic as his touch.

He leaned back slightly, adjusting his own clothes, his eyes never leaving hers. His trousers were already undone, his massive, heavy cock springing free, instantly jutting out, thick and heavy. Sarang's eyes immediately locked onto it—the sheer size was overwhelming. It was an intimidating weapon of pleasure, far, far thicker than GooWon's, and possessed a palpable weight and hardness that promised an entirely new dimension of fulfillment.

"Now," he growled, the single word an order and a promise.

He reached down and guided the head of his cock to the entrance of her stocking-framed cunt. Her juices immediately slicked the dark, velvet tip. He pressed gently, not thrusting, but easing into her with agonizing, slow purpose.

The sensation was instantaneous and profound. Sarang gasped, a sharp, choked sound, as the thick circumference of him began to push past her lips. The texture was incredible: a smooth, hard column pushing into the space his fingers had just prepared.

"God, you're so big," she managed to moan, the words barely audible as the head disappeared. "So much bigger... GooWon's is nothing like this..." The comparison was involuntary, a flash of brutal honesty that only heightened the current sensation. Her boyfriend's cock was sweet, familiar, but thin. This was a violation of space, an unyielding, thick column that made her feel stretched and completely, utterly filled up.

He pushed deeper, an inch at a time, each slow movement a deliberate conquest. The stocking hole stretched around him, the rough fabric friction adding a sharp, kinky edge to the sensation. She leaned back against the office chair, her back arching, her hips tilting up to meet the invading force, desperate to accommodate every inch.

Slow. Thick. Deep.

Finally, with a deep, resonant groan, he drove into her, fully burying his entire length. Sarang screamed, not in pain, but in an overwhelming shock of sensation. His cock was so long that she felt the tip—the dense, hard ridge—hit her cervix. It was a sensation she'd never once experienced with GooWon, a deep, internal impact that made her body seize and her vision swim.

"Oh, my God! That's it! So deep... you hit it!" she cried out, her hands flying up to grip the sides of the chair, her knuckles white.

He began to rock his hips, the movement slow and deliberate, a massive piston slowly moving in and out of her core. He didn't lift completely out, but kept the head nestled just inside her entrance before driving back in to hammer her deep, internal space.

With the rhythm established, he leaned forward, his mouth seeking the prize of her breasts. He took one dark, engorged nipple fully into his mouth, his tongue swirling around the sensitive peak before sucking it in with a wet, forceful draw. He began to milk her, his mouth pulling hard, a deep, rhythmic suction that was perfectly synchronized with the grinding, deep penetration of his cock.

Sarang's mind fractured. The combined assault was too much: the relentless, thick column of his cock hitting her womb, the rough stockings providing a strange, intense friction, and the unbelievably sharp, focused pleasure of his mouth on her nipple.

"Ahhh! Stop... don't stop!" she cried, her hips instinctively moving to meet his thrusts, the rocking motion adding to the depth and pace. She gripped his shoulders, her fingers digging in, leaving angry, crescent-shaped marks on the taut, grey-haired skin of his back. She wanted to hurt him, to mark him, to claim him as completely as he was claiming her.

He switched breasts, his hand cupping the first one as his mouth moved to the second, his tongue flicking and teasing the nipple before taking it in for another deep, soul-shattering suck. His fingers, meanwhile, slid down her torso, running along her ribs before gently cupping the underside of the breast he had just released, his thumb stroking the sensitive skin. He was an expert conductor, playing every instrument of her pleasure simultaneously.

"Yes... that feels so good! I never... I never felt so full!" she panted, her voice cracking with the strain of pure ecstasy. She could feel his immense thickness caressing every single wall of her passage, stretching her to her absolute limit.

Then, Go II Won sped up.

The slow, grinding rhythm gave way to a powerful, pumping tempo. His thrusts became deeper, faster, more insistent, slamming into her with an intoxicating violence. The air was filled with the wet, slapping sound of their bodies meeting, the rhythmic thud of his hips, and Sarang's increasingly loud, breathless moans.

"Faster! Oh God, faster!" she screamed, her head thrown back, hair a tangled mess against the leather of the chair. The office lights caught the gleam of sweat and sex on her skin.

He was hitting all her sweet spots with machine-like precision. With every powerful drive, the head of his cock slammed directly against her G-spot, a deep, internal target that sent shivers of white-hot pleasure radiating through her core. Her own attempts with GooWon felt pathetic in comparison. She had spent months faking the intensity of her orgasms with her boyfriend, offering manufactured sighs and theatrical twitches to preserve his fragile male ego. With Go II Won, there was no need for performance. He was a master of the female form, his body, tongue, and fingers effortlessly charting the geography of her deepest pleasure.

As his cock relentlessly hammered her G-spot, his free hand snaked down, not stopping at her hips, but moving to the still-open, throbbing mess of her clitoris. With two fingers, he began to rub, a precise, circular motion that layered an external, sharp, blinding pressure over the deep, internal impact.

The combination was instantaneous and catastrophic to her control.

Her breath hitched, her eyes rolling back as the world dissolved into a brilliant, screaming white. A primal, raw sound ripped from her throat—a sound far louder than any she had made, or dared to make, with GooWon.

"FUCK! Oh, God, FUCK!" she shrieked, her voice thick with a sudden, vicious rage that was entirely channeled by her pleasure. Her entire body began to spasm violently, her hips bucking up against his, trying to drive him deeper, faster, harder.

Her words tumbled out in a stream of desperate, pleasure-driven curses, her true feelings about her boyfriend finally erupting in the climax's white-hot truth.

"GooWon, you idiot! You useless, small-dick idiot! Why couldn't you make me feel this? Why couldn't you ever fucking find it?" she spat the words out, the betrayal suddenly sweet on her tongue. "I want this! I need this! Every time! He’s so much better!"

Her body twitched and convulsed around his massive cock, milking him with spasms of pure, unadulterated pleasure. She squeezed him so hard with her internal muscles that he let out a sharp, surprised grunt. She clung to him, her arms wrapped around his neck in a death grip, her face buried against his sweaty shoulder, unwilling to let the sensation end.

The office air was thick with the scent of sex, the sound of her gasping, ragged breaths, and the steady, dripping sound of their combined fluids. She was completely broken, ruined by his touch, her body twitching for a long, delicious moment as the aftershocks of the orgasm rolled through her. She was a wet, panting mess, her torn clothing hanging off her like rags, her pussy swollen and throbbing around the thick, immovable presence of his cock.

He slowed his movements, a deep, satisfied rumble shaking his chest as he felt her internal tremors finally subside. He did not withdraw, letting her settle fully around him, relishing the feeling of her shattered control. She was his now, marked by this exquisite, filthy act of betrayal. He was her only source of true, uninhibited pleasure, the secret she would carry home to her unsuspecting boyfriend. The adventure had only just begun.

The aftermath of her explosion left Sarang utterly disassembled. She lay sprawled on the large conference table, her legs still splayed wide, the remnants of the torn stocking clinging precariously to one thigh. Her body was a map of high-tension wires, twitching and spasming long after the peak had passed. She couldn't move, couldn't speak, could only gasp shallow breaths as the aftershocks of the massive, internal orgasm tore through her.

Go II Won watched her, his expression a mixture of deep satisfaction and cruel anticipation. His eyes, dark and intense, never left her swollen, wet center. With agonizing slowness, he began to pull his thick, slick cock out of her pussy. The withdrawal was accompanied by a deep, wet sucking sound, a sound that felt loud and echoing in the office.

As his massive head slipped free, the sudden, profound absence of internal pressure was too much for her overloaded nerves. Sarang's pussy, engorged and hyper-sensitive, immediately began to clench and convulse around the air, a series of deep, involuntary internal contractions. She wasn't just shaking; she was experiencing an immediate, violent wave of delayed climax, her body trapped in a perpetual state of exquisite, electric agony.

"Oh... ahhh! God!" she whimpered, her back arching off the table, her arms flying out blindly. Her knees knocked together despite the wide spread, and she could see her own slick, ruined pussy twitching violently, pumping out great surges of her juices and the white residue of his precum. It was a spectacle of absolute loss of control. She was climaxing again and again, silently and violently, purely from the memory and the residual sensation of his immense cock stretching her. She felt the fluids stream down the inner curve of her thighs, pooling sticky and warm beneath her.

He waited, standing over her, allowing the full intensity of her internal seizure to play out. He enjoyed the raw exhibition of his power, the proof that her body was entirely his. The seconds stretched into long minutes until, finally, the spasms eased, leaving her panting, soaking, and utterly exhausted.

Sarang slowly became aware of the cool air on her skin, the sound of her own ragged breathing, and the profound, shameful, thrilling wetness between her legs. She felt the heavy throbbing of her clitoris, still intensely sensitive from the combined assault. She attempted to sit up, her muscles screaming in protest.

She swung her legs over the edge of the table, her bare feet finding the cold, hard floor. As she tried to stand, her knees buckled instantly. The sudden, violent loss of muscle control sent her swaying wildly. She caught herself on the edge of the table, her legs trembling like a newborn foal. The spectacle of her own physical devastation struck her, and a strange, slightly hysterical laugh bubbled up.

"Jesus," she rasped, resting her head against the cool desktop, laughing at the sheer, brutal efficiency of the old man. "Pounded into jelly. I can barely stand. You ruined me again."

She pushed herself upright, her body still humming with residual energy, and turned to face him. He was standing perfectly still, his heavy breathing the only sign of his own exertion. Her eyes immediately dropped to his cock.

It was still rock-hard, massive, and glistening with her thick, slick juices, a single, heavy droplet hanging from the tip. It was an irresistible magnet. The need to taste it, to possess it with her mouth, was no longer a thought but an absolute, physical compulsion—a craving she had to satiate.

Without a moment of hesitation or shame, Sarang dropped to her hands and knees. She crawled forward on the rug, her hips swaying slightly, her posture immediately becoming submissive, feral, and focused. She intended to take him deep inside her mouth, to feel that massive, velvety head on her tongue, to clean the evidence of their filth.

Her mouth was inches from the head of his cock when Go II Won suddenly smirked, a cruel, cold glint in his eyes. He took one slow, deliberate step backward.

Sarang lunged instinctively, her tongue already preparing to lap him up, but he was too fast. She missed by inches, her forehead hitting the air where his cock had been just a second before. She stopped, kneeling there, panting, looking up at him with sudden, desperate confusion.

"Oh, no, Sarang," he murmured, his voice low and commanding, filled with a new level of dominance. "You don't just get it. You have to earn it. You have to beg for it. I want to see you crawl like the cock-hungry slut you really are."

He reached into his back pocket and pulled out his phone. He smoothly navigated to the camera app, flipping it so the screen was angled perfectly to capture her face, her ruined body, and the entire spectacle. The sight of the glowing screen only added a fresh thrill of shame and excitement. This was being recorded. This was permanent proof of her debasement and betrayal.

He took another step back, turning to walk slowly toward the glass wall of the office, his massive, heavy cock bobbing rhythmically with his stride, an exquisite prize just out of reach.

"If you want this, come and get it," he instructed, his voice a low, challenging growl.

Sarang didn't hesitate. The need for his cock was a fire in her belly, an urgent, overwhelming addiction. She dropped back down onto all fours, her arms extended, and began to crawl after him across the plush office carpet. The movement was instantly humiliating. Her exposed pussy, slick with sex, rubbed and dragged slightly on the rug, sending sharp jolts of pleasure through her. The ruined stocking on her right leg made her stride uneven, her hips rocking and swaying with every movement, creating a ridiculously tempting spectacle of her desperation.

"Please... Daddy, please!" she whined, the words tasting like ash and lust in her mouth. "Just a taste... I need it!"

Go II Won continued his slow, deliberate pace, circling the perimeter of the large office, forcing her to follow him like a hungry dog.

"Beg louder, Sarang," he commanded, his voice calm, filming her every move. "Tell me what you really want. Tell me what my cock is doing to you."

She chased the moving target, her eyes locked onto his glistening, thick member. The sight of it swinging just inches from her face, just out of reach, drove her insane.

"It's huge! It's bigger than GooWon's! I want to choke on it, Daddy! Please, shove it down my throat!" Her voice was ragged and desperate, the humiliation fueling her desire. She kept moving, hands and knees scraping, ignoring the aches in her joints, focused solely on the prize.

He walked past the central table, forcing her to crawl around the corner, her body a messy, naked trail of obedience. He finally stopped near the far corner of the room, holding the phone steady.

"Good girl," he drawled, his voice thick with satisfaction. "You're crawling so well for me."

He took one slow step forward. Sarang immediately scurried the final distance, her mouth open and ready. She grabbed his thick thighs, her hands squeezing the hard muscle, and finally—finally—caught the head of his cock.

She took the velvet-smooth, massive tip deep onto her tongue, licking up the glistening coating of her own juices and his precum. She let out a deep, satisfied groan, her cheeks hollowing as she pulled him in, the taste of him utterly intoxicating. She started to suck, pulling hard, her lips creating a tight seal around his thickness. Her entire body trembled with relief, savoring the reward for her desperate crawl.

But the relief was short-lived. Just as she started to get a rhythm, sucking him deep and hard, Go II Won let out a low chuckle and pulled back, cleanly withdrawing his cock from her mouth with a wet pop.

"That's enough for now," he announced, walking away again. "You get to admire it a little longer, on your knees."

Sarang whimpered, a true, gut-wrenching sound of disappointment. Her eyes followed his cock as it swung away, shining and erect. She quickly wiped the sticky residue from her chin with the back of her hand and immediately resumed the chase. She was a slave to the craving, driven by the knowledge that this man, with his immense cock and cruel control, held the key to the pleasure her boyfriend was too inept to provide.

The rest of the time was a relentless, agonizing tease. Go II Won paced the office, dictating her movements, forcing her to perform for the camera.

"Crawl faster, Sarang! Show me how desperate you are for this cock!"

"Wiggle your hips when you move. I want to see how wet you are for me. Your boyfriend never made you crawl like this, did he?"

Sarang followed, her breath coming in heavy, ragged gasps. Her knees were starting to sting from the abrasive carpet, but the pain was irrelevant next to the burning urgency between her legs and the sharp, addictive sting of her own humiliation.

"No, Daddy," she cried out, her voice muffled against the floor. "GooWon never could. He wouldn't know how! I'm yours! I'll do anything for your cock!"

He would pause again, perhaps letting her catch just the head for a lightning-fast lap, or maybe allowing her just to press her lips around the thick base for a second before he'd yank it away, laughing at her desperate, wet frustration. The game was agonizing, turning her into a true animal, focused only on the primal reward. Her hips never stopped swaying, a subconscious invitation, and her eyes remained wide, fixed entirely on the glistening cock, the undeniable symbol of her complete and utter surrender to the most adventurous, kinky, and filthy pleasure she had ever known. She would crawl all night if he demanded it, just for one more taste of the forbidden power he held over her.

He kept filming, capturing the precise moment her eyes widened in anticipation and the desperate look of loss when he took his cock away, documenting every inch of her humiliating submission. Her shame was his reward, and her desperate need was his fuel. The office was transformed into their secret playground of depravity, and Sarang was its newest, most eager inhabitant.

Sarang’s desperate, crawling plea finally reached its limit. Go II Won watched her scramble after him, her body slick and exhausted, her voice hoarse from begging for his cock. He enjoyed the protracted agony, but the thrill of the chase was reaching its natural conclusion. He stopped abruptly, turning to face her as she skidded to a halt at his feet, panting, eyes wide and fixed on the prize.

His cock, thick and heavy, was still fully erect, glistening with her spit and juice from the brief, tease-filled moments she'd been allowed to taste it. He towered over her, a figure of absolute, commanding power.

"Enough crawling," he commanded, his voice deep and final. "You've earned a deeper reward, Sarang. Now, look up at me."

Sarang obeyed instantly. She stabilized herself on all fours, her hips lifted high, her ruined pussy exposed and throbbing. She tilted her head back, her eyes looking up past his thick thighs to his face, a look of feverish anticipation and total submission in her gaze.

He reached down, his large, rough hands cupping her small, beautiful face. His fingers pressed into her soft cheeks, holding her head firmly in place, readying her for the next act of total dominance. He didn't want a gentle blowjob; he wanted to violate her mouth as completely as he had violated her pussy.

With a final, smooth motion, he stepped closer and drove the immense, thick head of his cock straight into her open mouth.

Sarang gasped, the air rushing out of her lungs as his thickness slammed past her lips. The size was overwhelming. Her mouth was immediately stretched to its absolute limit, the dense column of flesh pressing against her teeth and the back of her throat. It was an instant, deep choke, a forced intimacy that stole her breath.

He thrust in slowly, an inch at a time, until the ridge of his cock head was pressing against her uvula, the very back of her throat. Her eyes bulged, tears immediately springing to the corners from the pressure and the choking sensation. She was utterly helpless, her small face imprisoned in his hands, her mouth completely conquered by his cock.

He watched her face intently, reveling in the sight of her struggle for air and her total, willing submission. He held her cheekbones firmly, his thumbs pressing against the thin skin below her eyes, ensuring she couldn't pull back even if she wanted to.

"Swallow it all, slut," he muttered, his voice a low growl of pure dominance. "Take every inch of Daddy's cock. Let it touch your soul."

He began to fuck her mouth. The motion was deep and relentless. He wasn't gentle; the thrusts were hard, piston-like drives that forced his cock deep into her oral cavity. The wet, slapping sound of his balls hitting her chin was the only sound besides her choked, muffled gags and whimpers.

Her cheeks hollowed dramatically with every thrust, and she could feel the thick veins on his shaft pressing against her delicate tongue. The taste was intense: musky, salty, mixed with the sweet, slick residue of her own wetness. Her throat felt raw, stretched beyond anything she’d ever experienced.

Despite the pain and the sheer force, a core of intense pleasure pulsed through her. The act was so forbidden, so utterly dominating, that it thrilled her to the core. This was true submission, the final, humiliating act of service that GooWon could never even dream of demanding. Her obedience was absolute. She instinctively wrapped her arms around his legs, clutching his calves, trying to keep herself stable as he pounded her face.

He pulled back almost completely, the tip barely slipping past her lips, allowing her a desperate, gasping breath of air, before he slammed back in, driving deep to the back of her throat again. The repeated, hard hammering against her soft palate made her eyes water profusely, blurring her vision.

With one hand, he continued to cup her jaw, holding her steady. With his free hand, he reached down and stroked her hair, a strange, possessive gesture that only emphasized the power dynamic.

"You like being used like this, don't you, Sarang?" he questioned, his voice thick with lust. "You love feeling this thickness stretching your pretty mouth. Tell me you hate GooWon's small, useless cock while you're choking on mine."

Sarang couldn't speak, her throat too full, but she managed to nod vigorously, a frantic, choked agreement. A sound finally escaped her lips, a deep, primal groan of pure assent that affirmed her preference for his brutal size.

He took this as permission to increase the intensity. His thrusts became faster, more aggressive, pounding her face and mouth with a primal, rhythmic violence. Her jaw began to ache, her neck straining under the force. The kinky thrill of being so utterly violated, of being used as a simple, compliant receptacle, was overwhelming.

He kept his pace high, fucking her face until her eyes were fully glazed over, her face a mask of strain, submission, and pure, intense oral ecstasy. She gagged violently several times, the spasm of her throat only forcing him deeper, her desperation adding fuel to his fire. He was completely emptying himself into her mouth, a total, unbridled torrent of dominance.

Finally, with a thick, powerful groan, Go II Won pulled back one last, painful time, his breath hitching. He plunged deep into her mouth one last time, holding her still as he felt the intense, internal spasm of his climax begin.

He pumped his thick semen deep into the back of her throat. Sarang's eyes widened one final time in shock as the hot, voluminous load shot into her. She couldn't help but swallow, the instinct to obey, to take every bit of him, overriding the immediate discomfort. Her hands gripped his calves tighter, holding him steady as he continued to pulse and empty himself into her.

He finished with a deep, shuddering sigh, his cock slowly softening and slipping out of her slack, stretched mouth, leaving her covered in his thick, salty fluid.

The door slams shut behind her with a sharp bang that echoes through the dimly lit apartment like a gunshot. Jiwoo doesn’t even bother turning on the lights. She just kicks her sneakers off with an angry thud, the oversized black hoodie slipping off one shoulder as she stalks forward, chest still heaving.

“Fucking idiots,” she growls under her breath, voice low and edged with pure venom. The sweet, composed leader of Hearts2Hearts that the world sees on stage is nowhere to be found. In her place is the Jiwoo, now exhausted, furious, and radiating a dangerous, barely-contained energy that makes your pulse spike.

She spots you on the couch, exactly where you always wait for her after a long schedule. Her dark eyes lock onto yours, narrowing with intent. A slow, predatory smirk curls her lips, the kind that promises you’re about to be her personal outlet.

“Get up.”

You stand without hesitation. Before you can even open your mouth, she’s on you, shoving you back against the wall hard enough that the impact knocks the breath from your lungs. One hand fists in the front of your shirt, yanking you down to her level. The other palms you roughly through your sweats, feeling you twitch and harden instantly under her touch.

“They think I’m too busy playing with my friend to give a shit about the group?” she hisses, nails digging into your chest through the fabric. Her breath is hot against your neck. “They think I don’t have control? That I’m some careless bitch who can’t handle being leader? What kind of fucking name even is ‘Deep Green’???”

Her knee presses between your thighs, forcing your legs apart as she grinds her palm harder against your growing erection. You’re already throbbing for her, just from the fire in her eyes and the raw frustration rolling off her in waves.

“Strip. Right fucking now.”

Your hands move on autopilot, yanking your shirt over your head and shoving your sweats and boxers down in one frantic motion. They pool at your ankles before you kick them away. Jiwoo steps back just enough to watch, arms crossed under her chest, still fully dressed in that hoodie and tight leggings that hug every curve. She circles you slowly, like a predator sizing up its meal, then shoves you backward onto the couch so you land seated, legs spread wide.

She climbs onto your lap without warning, straddling you. The heat of her core hovers teasingly just above your aching cock, close enough that you can feel it but not nearly close enough to touch. Her hands brace on your shoulders, pinning you in place.

“Look at me.”

You do. Her gaze is dark, stormy, and absolutely ravenous.

“Today I’m not sweet old Jiwoo,” she says, voice low and venomous. “I’m not the girl smiling pretty for the cameras while they rip me apart online. Tonight I’m a pissed-off bitch who’s going to use this big fat cock until every last hateful comment is fucked out of my system.”

She leans in, lips brushing your ear, voice dropping into a dangerous whisper. “And you’re going to thank Mommy for every fucking second of it.”

Her fingers wrap around your cock, a tight, firm, unrelenting grip.

She strokes you once, then twice, painfully slow, thumb swirling over the leaking tip until you groan. She squeezes harder at the base, cutting off the building pleasure just enough to make you throb desperately.

“No cumming until I say so. Understand, baby?”

You nod, breath already shaky. “Yes.”

Jiwoo’s smirk is cold and beautiful, dripping with satisfaction.

“Good boy.”

She sinks down onto you in one brutal, fluid motion, taking you to the hilt in a single stroke. The wet, scorching heat of her pussy envelops you completely, so tight and dripping that your head falls back against the couch with a choked moan. She doesn’t move at first. She just sits there, fully seated, walls fluttering and clenching around every inch of you while she watches your face twist with need.

“Frustrated?” she whispers, rolling her hips in one tiny, cruel circle that makes your cock twitch violently inside her. “That’s exactly how I felt reading K-netizens’ bullshit. Scrolling through every single person calling me out of control. Calling me selfish.”

She starts riding you. Hard and fast and punishing. One hand locks around your throat, squeezing just enough to make your vision blur at the edges. The other braces on your shoulder for leverage as she fucks herself on your cock like it’s the only thing anchoring her rage. Every downward slam of her hips is angry and possessive, her slick walls gripping you mercilessly, the wet sounds of her riding you filling the room.

You can’t stop the words from spilling out. She feels too good, too tight, too wet, too perfect as she uses you.

“Jiwoo—fuck, Jiwoo—”

Her palm cracks across your cheek in a sharp, stinging slap that snaps your head to the side. The burn blooms hot across your skin, but your cock jerks hard inside her, betraying exactly how much you love it.

She grabs your jaw roughly, yanking your face back to hers. Her eyes are blazing.

“Wrong name, baby,” she snarls, grinding down deep and slow, clenching around you so viciously you see stars. “You don’t get to call me Jiwoo when I’m using you like my personal fucktoy. When I’m this fucking angry and this wet. Try again.”

You swallow hard, face throbbing, voice wrecked. “Mommy—”

“Louder.”

“Mommy,” you gasp, the word coming out broken and desperate.

She smiles. Slow, satisfied, and utterly cruel…then slams back down onto you with renewed fury.

“That’s right. Mommy’s the only thing you’re allowed to call me while I fuck every last bit of stress out of my system on this perfect cock.”

She rides you like she’s punishing every single netizen who ever doubted her, hips snapping down with bruising force. The drag of her soaked pussy is mind-melting, every slick slide pulling you deeper, her walls fluttering and squeezing in perfect rhythm. The pleasure hits you like a freight train.

Your hands fly up uncontrollably, fingers digging hard into the soft flesh of her hips as you try to pull her down even harder, chasing that devastating friction, desperate to feel her take you deeper.

But then her palm cracks across your cheek again. Sharper this time, the sting blooming hot and immediate. She doesn’t miss a beat, still bouncing on your cock like she owns it.

“Hands off, you greedy little slut,” she hisses, voice low and dangerous as she grabs both your wrists in one iron grip and pins them above your head against the couch. “You don’t get to touch Mommy unless I say so. This isn’t about you. This is about me using you to forget every single asshole online who thinks they can drag me.”

She keeps your wrists locked tight, using the leverage to ride you even harder, her nails digging into your chest with her free hand as she grinds her clit against you on every downstroke. Your cock throbs helplessly inside her, the denial of touch only making the ache worse.

Her nails rake down your chest, leaving bright red lines that sting deliciously. She leans forward, teeth sinking into the side of your neck, then your shoulder, sucking dark marks into your skin as she moans filthy commands between gasps.

You feel it building fast—dangerously fast. The tight, slick drag of her pussy, the way she clenches every time she bottoms out, the sheer fury in every roll of her hips. Your balls draw up tight, thighs trembling as you teeter right on the edge.

“Mommy—fuck, I’m so close—”

She stops dead.

Lifts herself completely off your cock in one smooth motion.

You feel the orgasm you were a single heartbeat away from crashing into a brick wall.

Your length slaps wetly and heavily against your stomach, throbbing angrily in the cool air, glistening with her juices and your own precum. That white-hot peak you were teetering on is ripped away at the last possible second, leaving your entire body screaming in protest.

A raw, broken whimper tears from your throat as the ache in your balls intensifies into something sharper and punishing, a deep, throbbing pressure that radiates up into your gut like someone’s squeezing them in a vice.

Your hips buck up violently into nothing, chasing the scorching heat that’s no longer there, desperate and pathetic. Your cock twitches and jerks wildly on its own, leaking a thick, humiliating bead of precum that slides down your shaft in a slow, torturous trail. You can feel the blood pumping in every vein, your tip flushed an angry red and swollen to the point of pain, pulsing helplessly in the open air like it’s begging, no pleading, for just one more stroke, one more second of her tight heat.

You were right there, right on the fucking edge, muscles locked and ready to explode, and now there’s nothing but this cruel, empty ache that makes your eyes sting and your abs clench hard enough to hurt. Your thighs shake uncontrollably, hips still twitching upward in tiny, useless thrusts as your body refuses to accept that the release has been stolen from you.

“Oh no, babyy,” she purrs, voice dripping with mock sympathy as she watches your cock twitch and leak all over your abs.

“Mommy didn’t say you could cum. You think you get to finish that easy after the day I’ve had?”

She reaches down and gives your aching shaft one slow, torturous stroke, thumb pressing right under the head until your eyes roll back and a broken whimper escapes you.

“Look at you. So fucking hard it hurts, huh? Poor thing. Balls all heavy and full for me. I can feel your cock pulsing against my thigh… so full and desperate.”

She sinks back down just as suddenly, taking you to the hilt again and resuming that brutal rhythm. This time she rides you even harder, grinding her clit against your pelvis with every thrust, chasing her own pleasure while keeping you right on that razor’s edge. The wet heat swallows you again, tighter than before, and the sudden return of sensation after the denial makes your head spin. You’re shaking, sweat beading on your skin, every muscle coiled painfully tight as she brings you right back to the brink—faster this time. Your cock swells impossibly harder inside her, pulsing dangerously, the pressure in your balls building to an unbearable ache.

“Mommy, please… please let me—”

She stops again. Lifts off completely. Your cock bobs helplessly in the air, flushed dark red, veins standing out like they’re about to burst, the head shiny and leaking steadily now in long, humiliating strings. The ache in your balls returns, a heavy, painful pressure that radiates up your spine. Your hips jerk and twitch on their own, desperately searching for any friction, but there’s nothing once again. Just cold air and her cruel little laugh as she strokes you lazily with two fingers, spreading your precum around the sensitive head in slow, torturous circles.

“Beg nicer,” she whispers, eyes dark with satisfaction as she watches you fall apart. She grinds her soaked pussy against your thigh instead, letting you feel how wet she is while denying you any relief.

“Tell Mommy how bad it hurts. Tell her these poor blue balls are aching for her. Tell her you’re nothing but her stressed-out little toy tonight.”

You’re babbling now, voice hoarse and broken, tears of frustration pricking at the corners of your eyes.

“Mommy, please. My balls are so full and heavy, I need to cum so bad. Please… Please use me, I’ll be good, I’ll do anything—”

She laughs softly, then sinks down again.

Third round.

She rides you mercilessly this time, thighs flexing powerfully, pussy fluttering and clenching around you in rhythmic pulses as she chases her pleasure. You’re right there with her—right on the fucking edge—when her rhythm falters for just a second. Her breathing turns ragged, her nails dig deeper into your chest, and suddenly she’s cumming hard.

Her walls clamp down around your cock like a vice, fluttering and spasming in powerful, uncontrollable waves. A sharp, broken cry rips from her throat as her entire body seizes up—back arching, thighs shaking violently around your hips, her soaked pussy gushing hot and slick all over your cock and thighs. She grinds down desperately through it, milking herself on you while her clit throbs against your pelvis, moaning right against your ear,

“That’s it… get Mommy nice and wet so you can breed me properly.”

Only when her trembling subsides does she finally lean down, lips brushing yours in a messy, possessive kiss.

Not to mention your ears absolutely perking up at what she just told you to do. Cum inside? That’s a genuine first.

“Now,” she growls against your mouth, voice hoarse and commanding as she starts riding you again—fast, deep, relentless.

“Fill Mommy up. Pump every last drop of thick hot cum into me. Breed me. Knock me up. I want this fat cock flooding my womb until it takes. Show me how much you love being Mommy’s filthy little breeding toy.”

The permission hits you like lightning.

The orgasm crashes over you with brutal force, ripping through your body in violent, endless waves. Your cock swells and pulses wildly inside her, thick ropes of cum exploding from you in powerful spurts that flood her pussy. One after another, harder and longer than you’ve ever felt before. The built-up pressure making each jet feel like it’s being wrenched from the deepest part of your aching balls.

You groan brokenly, hips stuttering up into her as she keeps riding you through it, walls fluttering and squeezing every last drop from you while she growls, “Yes—fill me, breed me, give Mommy everything. I want it dripping out of me for days.”

The pleasure is so intense it borders on pain, your vision whiting out, body shaking uncontrollably as rope after rope keeps pumping into her until you’re completely drained, twitching and oversensitive, every tiny clench of her pussy sending aftershocks through you.

Jiwoo finally collapses on top of you, sweaty and flushed and satisfied, her breath hot against your neck. She presses a surprisingly soft kiss to the bite mark she left earlier, almost tender now that the rage has drained out of her.

“Next time they piss me off… I’m coming straight home to this cock again.”

She nips your earlobe playfully, then whispers one last order, voice low and sweet.

“Until then… you’re not allowed to touch yourself. Not even once. Got it?”

You nod weakly, voice hoarse and completely wrecked.

“Yes, Mommy.”

Jiwoo hums in approval, still straddling your spent body, her pussy lazily clenching around your softening cock, keeping every drop of your cum deep inside her. But instead of climbing off, she shifts her weight and reaches down beside the couch, fishing something out of the shadows near her bag. When she straightens back up, she’s holding a thick, sleek black strap-on harness with a realistic dildo attached—long, girthy, and intimidatingly veined. You’ve never seen it before.

Her eyes gleam with fresh, dangerous hunger as she slowly traces a finger along the length of the toy, lips curling into a wicked little smirk.

“Good boy… but Mommy’s not quite finished with you yet,” she murmurs, voice dropping low and teasing. “I’ve only ever used this one on Yuha before, so…”

“AAAAHHHH! Oppa you made it!” Sullyoon happily exclaims as she rushes towards you. You meet her with a hug and lift her up in the air before setting her gently back on the ground. “I thought you would miss this one too when I didn’t see you in the crowd.” She pouts as she whines. 

“Hey, I promised I was going to make it to this one. I intended to keep it.” You reassure her by kissing her, which is met by playful gags and barfs by the other girls in the room. “You did great by the way. You all did!” 

“Thanks, Oppa!” the rest of the NMIXX girls reply in unison. They all go back to their own worlds while you talk with Sullyoon.

“Are you guys done for the day?”

“Yep! That was our last performance.”

“Cool. I was thinking we could get some food on the way home.”

“I’d love that, oppa. But I kinda want to walk around the campus for a bit. Maybe get some fresh air while we’re out here. Is that okay?”

“It’s fine, Yoona. I don’t mind. Though, is there anything we need to put in the car?”

“Not really. Most of our stuff is going back to the company with our managers.”

“Alright, then. Let’s go on that walk.”

Sullyoon’s smile grows wide before she goes to her manager, who helps her wear a heavy coat. Her manager asks if you can handle her, which makes you scoff. Of course you can. She relents and gives you a final reminder that their van leaves in two hours, though you reassure her that the two of you will be back by then. You and Sullyoon sneak out of the waiting room while the other NMIXX members continue to relax.

— — —

You and Sullyoon walk through the campus, escaping the crowded areas into the more secluded parts of the university. Everyone was still focused in the area where the performers were, leaving only a few stragglers that you helped Sullyoon hide from. Eventually, even the stragglers started to dwindle down to a few bodies before only the two of you were virtually the only ones left walking.

“The campus is so pretty, right oppa?” Sullyoon asks.

“Yeah, it reminds me of my old campus back when I was still studying.” You say as you can’t help but feel nostalgic. You remember your first day of college, the freshie tour that your seniors organize as they show you around the campus. The large trees, the art deco buildings, the fresh air from the greenery. It really does take you back to when you were still a young, bright-eyed, and plucky freshman.

“What was it like? For you back then, when you were a student?” Sullyoon asks out of curiosity.

“Well the campus is pretty similar, though ours is a bit more… rundown?”

“Are you roasting your own alma mater?” Sullyoon asks as she chuckles.

“I mean, I didn’t say it wasn’t beautiful or anything. Since we’re a state university, most of our funds came from the government. And maybe some ‘well meaning’ donations from alumni. But aside from that, the budget was always tight so some of the buildings weren’t always in shape.”

“Okay, maybe not the campus. How were you like back then?” Sullyoon clarifies what she wants to know.

“Alright, alright.” You relent. “You already know I was a varsity player before… you know.” You say as you motion to your knee. “They offered me some suggested programs that weren’t really heavy on requirements, but I still chose Political Science. How I managed to juggle that and training for games, I can’t remember. But yeah, as a star recruit the whole campus kept treating me like a king.”

“I bet you liked it.”

“I mean, at first. But it started feeling fake. Like I didn’t know who my actual friends were from those who liked me just because I was a star player.” You confessed. “I mean, my teammates were great. We had a real brotherhood. But outside of them, I didn’t really know who I could trust.”

“You must have felt lonely, Oppa. But I bet you had a girlfriend back then who helped you through it.” Sullyoon cheekily accuses you.

“Unfortunately for me, it was just basketball and academics that took up my time.” You try to make an excuse. Instead of being content with the answer, you earn a glare from Sullyoon.

“Oh come on, oppa! I know girls were throwing themselves at you left and right!”

“Yoona! I wouldn’t—”

“Oppa!” she says with an annoyed look.

“Fine. Maybe a few flings here and there, but nothing serious!” you finally relent. “They never really stuck around after…” your gaze drifts to your knee. Sullyoon notices, so she holds your hand to comfort you. You give her a smile to let her know you’re alright. “What’s gotten you so curious about my student life anyway, Yoona?” 

“It’s just…” Sullyoon replies with hesitancy, “the other day, when we were at the university in my hometown, and today, while we’re walking through the campus, it got me thinking how my life would be if I didn’t become an idol.” She says in a moment of vulnerability. “Like, would I have gone to college? What program would I have taken?”

“And it’s not like I’m ungrateful for everything I have now.” Sullyoon continues. “I worked hard to get to where I am and I appreciate everything I’ve earned thus far. It still makes me wonder how my life would be like if I was… normal.”

“That would be kinda sad for me and Dahyun.” you joke, “It would be a bummer if we never met you.”

“Who said we’re not going to meet?” Sullyoon argues back. “What if I ‘accidentally’ bump into you when you’re here scouting one of our players for the draft?” she jokes. It gets a laugh out of both of you.

The two of you continue to stroll along the campus before you find yourselves in an empty building, far enough from where the festival was taking place that no one else would accidentally come wandering through. It wasn’t closed off, so you both assumed that you were free to enter.

“You know Yoona, if you really want to go to college, it’s never too late to try.” You tell her, earning a confused look in reply. The cute expression she makes gets you to chuckle before explaining further.

“There are tons of people who go to college at a later age while they focused on work earlier in their lives.” You assure her. “Athletes, actors, writers, you name them. They all chose to finish their education when they were more stable, regardless of how old they were. Hell, Dahyun told me that Tzuyu’s finishing an online psych degree. I’m sure if you ask the company they would be more than happy to help you with that when you’re ready.”

“Are you sure, oppa?” Sullyoon asks you.

“I’m sure, Yoona.” You hold her hand tight reassuringly. “It might not be the normal life you thought of, but it’s close.” She lets go of your hand to hug you instead.

“Thanks, oppa. I’ll think about it more at a later time. It’s just nice to know that the option is available.” Sullyoon says. “For now though, I think there’s something else you can help me with.” She says with a smirk that gets you just a tiny bit worried.

As the two of you were walking down the hallway, Sullyoon was checking if any of the lecture rooms were left unlocked. Though the first three wound up locked, you saw Sullyoon’s smile grow when the fourth was left open. She sneaks in, dragging you along with her into the lecture hall.

“Yoona! Are you sure we can be in here?” You whisper.

“It’s their fault for leaving it open, Oppa.” She jokes, “Besides, this helps me with crossing off a few things on my bucket list.” She says with a mischievous grin.

“What do you mea—” you’re unable to finish your sentence as Sullyoon makes her way down the hall. She drops her heavy down coat on the way down. When she gets to the professor’s table, she bends over and takes off her safety shorts. With a grin, she launches them towards you, nearly making you stumble down the hall as you try to catch it.

“Were any of those flings a cheerleader, Oppa?” Sullyoon suddenly asks.

“Uh… no. I don’t think so.”

“Good.” Sullyoon says as she hops on the desk. “How about you pretend that you’re in your freshman year again and that you’re the star of the campus, while I’m one of the girls that’s throwing themselves at you.” She says with a smirk, as she slowly spreads her legs and reveals her exposed core. “And try as you might, but you just can’t help falling for this cheerleader.”

Yup. She’s gonna be the death of you.

“Yoona… I—”

“I guess I didn’t make myself clear enough.” Sullyoon says, with a slight bit of annoyance of having to repeat herself. “This cheerleader wants the school’s star point guard to fuck her good, daddy.”

Your mind goes blank when Sullyoon says… that word. Your eyes darken, the rest of your body follows suit in a trance. The intended effect that she wanted.

“Did I make myself clear enough?” She asks with a smirk.

“Crystal.” you reply before crashing your lips onto hers.

You lean in towards Sullyoon, pressing her hard into the desk. She smiles through the kiss as she pulls you in by your collar with one hand. The other snakes down your body before resting at the waist of your pants. She tries to undo it with one hand for a minute before you end up helping her. When your length springs free from the restraints of your pants, both of your lips rest first as she takes hold of you. She starts guiding your length along her lower lips, using your tip to spread them apart. When she lets your tip rest at her entrance, she expects you to take her right then and there. To her surprise, you elect to do something else.

You lift Sullyoon off the table and set her on her feet before spinning her around and bending her over the desk. A gasp escapes her mouth from the shock before she giggles from your sudden assertiveness. You take hold of your length, mirroring what she did earlier by guiding your tip along her lower lips, splitting them apart to tease her. Each swipe has her moan against the table, and when you finally nestle your tip at her entrance, her audible groan echoes through the lecture hall. When you start pushing in, her whimpers crash against the hardwood. When you fully hilt into her, she lets go of another long moan. You grab a fist full of her hair, not too hard so that she doesn’t get hurt, and lift her upper body from the desk. She looks over her shoulder with a smile, whimpering at each of your slightest movements as you're fully buried inside of her. She knows you’re not asking for permission, but you want to hear her say it anyway.

“Fuck me, daddy.”

The smirk on Sullyoon’s face never leaves as each word escapes her mouth. 

With that much confidence, who were you to deny her request?

Soon enough, the smirk fades away as Sullyoon’s face contorts in pleasure as her inner walls cling to your shaft as you slowly pull out. With just the tip left inside, you snap your hips towards her ass, fully burying yourself inside of her again in one quick movement. 

“Oh fuck!” She manages to let out before a string of moans escapes her.

You eventually let go of her hair. Your hands find a temporary home when you grip her perfect waist, but they eventually migrate upwards and take hold of her soft mounds through her top. You do your best to play with them through the fabric, but you both decide it was too much of a hindrance. Your hands sync in taking hold of the hem of her top, both of you desperate to strip it off of her. This leaves her upper body exposed to the environment, along with freeing her mounds to be played with for her pleasure.

Sullyoon stays upright, only her hips making contact with the table. One hand reaches back for your hair as you continue to plant kisses on her neck and newly exposed shoulders. Her other hand dances between joining yours at her chest and gripping the edge of the table out of pleasure.

Your mouth is magnetized to the skin of Sullyoon’s neck and shoulders, marking her with kisses and light bites along with lapping at the sweat forming on her skin. Your hands remain glued to her breasts, kneading her soft mounds and letting her nipples dance in the spaces between your fingers. Every thrust makes the desk creak as you fuck her into the wood. The force pushes the table an inch every time you bury yourself in her.

While you were busy fucking Sullyoon like she asked, you finally notice how much time has passed. The sky had started to dim, leaving only the glow of the festival grounds in the short distance as a source of light. The strobing of the different colors in the distance gives you an idea.

Without ever leaving inside her, you pull Sullyoon away from the desk and walk her towards the window. She gasps from the sudden movement, but a few moans escape as well. She steadies herself on the windowsill, taking a moment to catch her breath when she notices the view outside. The colorful, strobing lights from the festival looked amazing against the backdrop of the darkening blue sky. Even from this far, you both can hear the subtle hum of the current performer’s music. She was mesmerized by the scene, but you break her out of the trance when you lean in and whisper to her.

“Can you imagine it, Yoona? Hours ago they were cheering for you while you were on the stage. Now that crowd has no idea that you’re being fucked in a random lecture hall.”

You feel her tighten up with the last statement. But then she looks back at you with her own smirk.

“That’s just what this cheerleader wanted, daddy.”

You give her no reply except continuing your hard and fast thrusts. Her palms flatten against the glass. She moans into her reflection, fogging up the spot where her mouth was directed. The windows shudder from the force of your thrusts, shaking every time you bottom out inside of Sullyoon.

Even though there aren’t any people watching, you could feel the thrill of the near voyeuristic act is getting to Sullyoon. Her walls are becoming more active, gripping and clinging to you harder, making her tighter. Her natural slick has gotten thicker, creating a mess every time your hips meet. She’s getting close. And, if you’re being honest, so are you.

You pull out of Sullyoon for a moment, earning a disgruntled groan from the younger girl. Her disappointment only lasts for a second because you immediately crash your lips onto hers. Your hands find the rise of her butt, hoisting her up in the air to carry her. Her arms and legs instinctively wrap around you for stability. You make your way back to the desk, planting her on top of the table making sure you are face to face. The both of you reach for your dick, guiding it back to her entrance in tandem. You both let out a guttural groan when you find your way back into her, and after a moment or two of being buried deep inside of her, you pick up where you left off.

You start jackhammering into Sullyoon once again. Neither of you wanted to build up another rhythm from the start. No, you both know you’re close and you’re both desperate to finish. You bury your face in the crook of her neck, mouth latched on to her skin, sucking, licking, kissing her soft flesh as your hips move on their own. Sullyoon’s moans are free to fill the air of the lecture hall, each groan and whimper echoing throughout the room intended for education.

“Fuck! Just like that daddy! Keep going! please! I’m so fucking close!” 

Sullyoon’s actions match her words as her hips rise to meet yours. She grinds towards your every thrust, your combined actions driving you deeper and harder into her. You continue to do your part, pumping into deep and hard, making sure your tip hits her most sensitive spots. You could vocalize no reply, so you let your actions do the job for you.

Sullyoon’s fingers get tangled in your hair as she holds on for dear life. You hook one of her legs in your arm while the other remains wrapped around your waist. The new angle lets you drive into her deeper, harder and faster. There was no sense of rhythm but at this point it wasn’t needed. 

You groan against her neck. 

She moans into the open air. 

You could feel it. Her walls were starting to spasm. Each time you drive into her you feel your shaft get slicker. A familiar burn returns to your stomach. Coils are dying to break loose. You pull away from her skin to give her one last warning.

“Yoona –FUCK– I’m close!”

“Me too! Please! Inside! This cheerleader wants to get filled up by the school’s star point guard, daddy!”

You crash your lips onto hers again for the final time that afternoon… evening? It takes only three more thrusts. Three more times of plunging deep into her. When you bury yourself deep in her for the third and final time, that’s when the two of you finally let go.

You feel your length pulse inside of Sullyoon. Shooting the first of the countless streams of cum into her waiting womb. 

Sullyoon’s body stiffens under you. Her back arches, pushing her body towards yours. Her walls start violently contracting around your shaft, milking you for all you had. Gushes of her release start spurting out against your thighs, soaking the both of you as you’re still connected. 

She moans into your mouth as you groan into hers. When you both finally relent from the kiss, you retreat to the familiar territory in the junction of her neck and shoulder, your mouth latching on to her skin once again. Sullyoon’s head falls back in pure ecstasy, her mouth agape in a silent cry. 

Sullyoon’s hands find their way to the back of your head. Her fingers get tangled in your hair as she holds on to you. Your arms wrap around her waist. Bringing her close– holding her close to you. You both pause, staying still as you both ride out your shared nirvana.

When you both start to settle down, you feel the fatigue finally hit you. Your legs go weak, making you stumble backwards, slipping out of Sullyoon and landing on the professor’s chair. Sullyoon continues to lie down on the desk, as you see her chest rise and fall with every breath. The lecture hall slowly grows silent, save for your shared labored breaths. A far cry from the moans, grunts, and curses that echoed throughout the room awhile ago.

It takes a few minutes before the two of you start to recover. For Sullyoon, she signals it when she starts giggling.

“Well Oppa, was that fun or what?” She asks while giggling.

“Way too fucking fun, Yoona.” You manage to reply before you join her with a chuckle.

Sullyoon sits up groggily. Hair a mess. Her neck and shoulders shining from your saliva while slightly bruised from your kisses and bites. She gives you a blissful and satisfied smile that makes your own grow on your face. She hops off the desk onto her shaky legs, though you were ready to catch her just in case she falls. She straddles you on the leather office chair, hugging you as she rests her head on your shoulder. You hug her back and kiss her on her forehead. In the silence, you have a sudden realization that worries you.

“Yoona…” you whisper. “You don’t think they have any cameras—”

“All clear, Oppa.” Sullyoon replies in a ho-hum tune. “Had a manager-unnie scout this place before we went on our walk.”

“Scout? Wait, did you plan this?” You ask with shock.

“Duh. I wanna have fun, not create a scandal.” Sullyoon jokes. “Besides, Dahyun-unnie planned that little car fun session you had, so I asked her for some tips.” She says with a smirk. Once again, you’re left in disbelief.

“You’re gonna be the death of me, Yoona.” You say before giving her a quick peck on the lips. “Come on. We should get dressed and get you back to your manager and the rest of the girls. They might be looking for you already.”

“Alright, Oppa.” Sullyoon says as she slowly gets up, “Though, I can’t wait for our little next adventure. I want to know who else daddy wants to fuck.” The last sentence comes with a smirk as she starts getting dressed.

Yeah.

She’s gonna be the death of you.

Well, difficulties along the way put delay after delay which means your grand opening is smack dab at the middle of summer break. You can individually track each customer over the past two weeks, so barren it has been. 

“Ah, well. Good thing dude’s filthy rich. Next month will pay off, trust.” You busy yourself with whatever baristas do when it’s quiet, wiping down tables over and over. There must be more cleaner residue on those than there have been actual stains. The windows, too. At least that you kinda enjoy, as any stains bother you immensely. 

At one point you take over the chill jazz and soul R&B playing on repeat, blasting your own mishmash of genres while singing them to your heart’s content. A decent use of the pricey double glazed glass at least. 

Unfortunately, slaving the speakers to your phone means the welcome bell doesn’t sound when a customer does open the door. “Now let me show you the shape—ahh! My heart!” You jump at the sight of the mythical customer just as she closes the door behind her. She’s hardly affected. Maybe her eyes widened a bit, but that’s it. 

“Sorry, sorry! Pardon me. We are open, yes! Lemme just…” You stumble and scramble to the counter, the squeaky clean floor working against you. The playlist switches back to company SOP, along with your disposition. “Please, come in. What can I get for you today, miss?”

She approaches the counter silently, her eyes only changing when she reads over the menu. “Do you have anything that’s…brightly colored? Except for red,” she croaks like her voice is trying not to disturb the ambience. 

You raise a brow at the peculiar request. “Well…if I’m getting you correctly, our matcha latte’s what you’re looking for.” She winces, curling her lips inwards. “That’s…green, isn’t it?”

“Yes it is.”

“Anything that’s like…purple in color? Violet, something like that?”

“Eh…not as of yet, unfortunately,” you give a slight bow. “Maybe you could give some suggestions? We can add it to the menu later, still feeling things out here.”

She sighs, shoulders slumping but not loosening. “No, I’ll just take one large matcha. Normal sugar and ice.” 

“Gotcha. Anything else? Our sandwiches are pretty good—”

“Just…the matcha latte, please. Thank you.” Her answer is curt, but doesn’t bite very hard, like its teeth had been worn down.

“Of course, one large matcha latte, normal sugar and ice.” You give her the QR payment code and she scans it, movements almost robotic. “Very well. I’ll get this ready for—oh, almost forgot!” You chuckle brightly and tap on your forehead, trying to melt away at least parts of the wall of ice she brought in. “What’s the name for the order?”

“Enami. Enami Asa,” she answers, efficient and no warmer, already turning away to look for a seat. “Enami…Asa. Like this?” You show her the writing on her cup. Asa offers a passing glance, confirming with a single nod and continuing on her way. You finally relent and accept the cold. Perhaps it’s what she needs right now far more than whatever you could offer.

You do maintain your own temperature as you deliver the drink to her table. Asa returns a brief thanks; polite, sanitised. You give a slight bow and return to the counter, readying yourself for another customer…that doesn’t come. Back to filler activities you go, minus the obsessive cleaning and personal karaoke, that is. Only you, the gentle music, the air conditioning with hints of coffee, and Asa. 

Seriously, she didn’t bring anything with her other than her phone, it seems. And even that sits idly in her pocket. She takes a small sip every now and then, otherwise just observing the interior in silence, barely moving her head.

Bit by bit her cup empties, and on the last sip she places the cup back in the exact same spot it’s been in; not even the ring of water on the table is out of place. She gets up and puts the chair back in place, turning towards the exit. “Thank you, please come again!” Asa’s arm flies up to chest level before she snaps them back to her sides, offering a half-bow on the way out. You return it and watch her walk away. From where you can see, it seems like her head doesn’t quite know where she’s going, her legs merely following whatever path they’re on.

“Hm. Quiet, uptight…purple drink lady.” You hum and add her to the small bank of customers in your mind, fully expecting this to be your only encounter with her.

But it isn’t. Asa comes back every three to four days, making her the first and so far only recurring customer. Each time she orders the same thing. Sits in the same spot. Makes no conversation beyond what is chiefly necessary. You thought the cold silence would be suffocating, what with your polar opposite energy. Strangely, that’s not the case. You find her presence to be some sort of anchor, something to look forward to with less than ten customers a day. 

***

On the third week after your first encounter, you almost wish for that back. Academic year’s in full swing, numbers previously requiring a week to reach easily surpassed in three hours. You and Takaki both man the counter full-time, no longer taking turns. He’s already thinking about hiring another employee, too.

When Asa shows up again, you almost don’t recognise her amidst all the fast-moving chaos. “One moment! Welcome to the Camel Café. What can I get—oh! Hi!” You just about jump on your feet upon seeing her. A wide, unabashed grin blooms across your features, half of the day’s tension melting away from your shoulders.

Asa seems equally awestruck by the crowd, if not perturbed. It’s the first new expression you’ve seen from her. “I see business has…taken off.” A casual, non pragmatic (well, less than usual) comment too? You can’t help but laugh, to the confusion of Takaki behind you amongst his juggling of four orders.

“Yeah, you don’t say. Weird to see the place so lively, isn’t it?”

Asa shrugs. “Well, its capacity is paying dividends.” 

“Anyways, what can I get you? The usual?” Your fingers hover above the screen, ready to punch in her order.

“Actually…looks like I won’t need anything from you today,” she murmurs. Your smile drops a degree, tilting your head. Your eyes follow where hers seem to be fixed upon, then you hum in understanding. “Ah, your spot’s taken? It’s fine! Hey, Imma let you in on a little secret. See that dude in the sun hoodie? He’s gonna book it out of here in—”

“No, it’s not fine. I’ll return on a later date. Thank you. I won’t obstruct your business any longer.” Asa bows and turns about face before you can begin to argue. You watch her walk away with a small frown on your face, one you immediately have to curve back up for the next customer.   

That continues for the succeeding occasions. Asa will only come in and order if her favourite spot’s available, backing away as soon as it’s taken by someone else. When she does manage, she orders the same drink and does the same thing. Among the hustle and bustle of university students with their drinks, laptops, headphones, extension sockets and the like, her table is jarringly still and sterile. A single large matcha latte. Raised from and lowered onto the exact same spot that it first occupied the table on.

Even on the rare quieter days. If her spot is taken, Asa won’t enter. You decide to make use of the quiet to go after her, asking Takaki to take over. “Wait! Enami-sama!” Her entire body straightens into one line, turning around so smoothly it looks choreographed. “Yes?”

“I just—” You cough as you catch your breath, hands on your knees. Damn, you need to exercise. “Just have one question. I gotta know.” 

“Is it pertaining to me and or important?”

You stand up and face her squarely. “It does pertain to you. And it’s important. To me.” Asa narrows her eyes a bit, one corner of her mouth tugged up in thought. If not for her standoffish, enigmatic nature (or maybe because of it), she does look rather adorable. 

“Go ahead, then. What is it?” Oh, right. The question. “Why…oh—I lied. Well, forgot. Two questions, actually. Is that alright?”

“Was that one of them?”

A snort makes it past your nose before you could stop it. “Eh, no. Unless you count it as one, then it’s three questions.” You could swear that her mouth twitched a few millimetres at that. Maybe you’re just seeing what you want. Whatever, unimportant.

“Very well, then. We’re already here, anyways.” She crosses her arms. “Right, first off. Why that spot in particular? Like, you’ll take nothing else but that spot. Why?”

Asa exhales and looks over her shoulder, then down at her shoes. “It’s…spacious. Secure. But not out in the open.” She looks back up at you. “That’s why I chose that spot.”

“Hm. And there’s no other spot that fits the bill?”

“Well, there are a few others that may, from my observations. But…I fear they won’t achieve the same effect.” You nod and let her answer settle. At least out here the silence isn’t idle. Some cackles in the distance from a group of students, the birds in the trees, the deep diesel rumble of a bus setting off from its stop.

“I see.” Asa’s body starts shifting side-to-side, like your acknowledgement was the permission to loosen up that it was waiting for. “Next question, then. Why purple?”

“Excuse me?”

“When you first came to the café. You asked for brightly colored drinks. Except red. You wanted purple or violet, but settled on green with the matcha.”

Asa scoffs—actually scoffs. Her lips curve up into a small, tangible smile. Which stays. “You…remember all of that?”

“Of course I did! You’re among our first customers, first one to come back, and with that request of yours?” You list off with your fingers. “Pretty hard to forget, Enami-sama.”

She lets out what might have been a chuckle, definitely some humoured expression. “Didn’t dope that as something so memorable.” 

Your eyes and ears perk up. “Dope…it?” 

“Ah, it’s this…when riflemen hone in their scopes to their rifles? And they use the data for quick reference, different ranges—anyway, that’s what that means.”

“Oh…yeah, yeah, I get it. Interesting! You work with firearms or something?”

That small smile droops to only a small hint of it. “I…used to.” 

“Really? What—” You just now catch her expression, feeling like her whole person shrunk a few centimeters. “Oh, sorry. I pried too much, didn’t I?”

Asa waves you off quickly. “It’s alright. And to answer your last question…” She looks you in the eyes, but her pupils unfocus. “I have my reasons. About the colors. It…it isn’t something I’d like to discuss right now.”

“That’s completely fine. I was just curious more than anything.” You put your hands together in front, fingers fiddling. “Well, I should…get back. Thank you for your time, Enami-sama. See you later.” You bow and turn around after she returns it.

“That was more than two, by the way.”

You stop and turn around, finding another, slightly bigger smile on Asa’s face. “Sorry?”

“That was way more than two questions. Shouldn’t you be better with numbers, running a business and all?” she chuckles. It’s soft, but definitely a chuckle this time.

You shoot back a smirk. “Aha. Good point. Though, I think you’re more than just business, Enami-sama.”

“Is that so?” She raises a brow. Your face runs a bit cold. To be honest, you don’t know why you said that or really what it meant. Just saying what felt right at the moment. 

“Since I’ve gone over so much, one more wouldn’t hurt, would it?”

“I thought you had to get back to work?”

“Well, call this customer networking…or whatever. Bossman’s the one with all the business jargon.”

“You just said I’m more than business.”

“More than just business. May include business somewhere in there,” you tilt your head.

Asa laughs, the bright noise bouncing around the quiet street. “You’re unbelievable.”

“Unbelievably good,” you snicker. “Anyways, what I meant to say was…you said there are other tables that could suit you, yeah?”

Asa nods. “Correct.”

“Maybe next time your current spot’s occupied, you could…try those, if available. You might hate them, you might like them more than the usual spot. Nobody knows. Not until you try them.”

Asa smiles and puts her hands in her pockets. “I’ll…keep that in mind. Thank you, ‘More than just business’ barista-san.”

You laugh freely, waving at her. “You’re welcome, Enami—”

“Call me Asa,” she interrupts. “Enami-sama sounds a whole lot like ‘just business’.”

 “Right, right.” You nod. “Then…see you later, Asa-san!” 

***

“Let me have the…peach tea,” Asa gingerly asks. You hum in fascination, nodding. “Different drink? Nice! Hot, right? Or are you an iced tea freak like I am?”

“Hot, please. Like it needs to be any colder this October,” she giggles. She’s been doing that a lot more since that afternoon. Still some tension evident, but she’s letting them off more often. 

“Thank you very much. Well, I know where you’re sitting. One hot peach tea on the way,” you chirp after she makes the payment.

“Actually?” She peruses the interior. “I’m going for a different spot today. Testing out my candidates.”

“Heck yeah! What’s the occasion today? Lots of firsts!”

She smirks. “Does there need to be an occasion?”

“Word,” you nod. “Well, go for it. Let me know about the…assessment later?”

“I will. You’re the only one interested anyways,” she scoffs, waving as she goes for the new seat despite her usual spot being vacant. Delivering her drink feels a bit strange, not taking the route you’ve got wired in. 

***

“Yo.” Takaki nudges your arm. “I got news. Big one.”

“Congrats! When’s the wedding?”

He swats your back with a rag, only making you snicker louder. “Wiseass. I’m thinking about a new line of drinks.”

“Ooh. What kind?” 

“Tropical. Refreshing, colourful, fruit mixes, that kind,” he states with a ‘wow’ gesture.

You scoff. “Tropical? In this climate?”

“Well, not right now, obviously. We need that new staff first.”

“Right! You got someone in mind?”

“Got a couple candidates. Anyways, thought I should let you know early. Pass the news to that VIP customer of yours. Heard she likes colorful drinks?”

“VIP customer, really,” you giggle. “What, she your…girlfriend then?”

“Now hold your fucking horses.” You brandish the portafilter towards him. “She—”

A loud clatter grabs your attention, snapping your head in search of the source. Easy to find with everyone else’s heads turned towards it; Asa’s new table. Her cup is no longer on it, fallen over with its contents spread across a big splatter on the floor. Asa herself is breathing hard, chest rising and falling, mouth partly open. Sweat glistens on her temple, her eyes unfocused and darting all over the place.

“Shit.” You don’t think twice and run around the counter towards her side, navigating around pulled out chairs and extension sockets on the floor. “Asa-san? Can you hear—”

“GET DOWN FROM THERE! Get your head down! What the fuck are you doing!” she roars, hands flying to cover her own head. 

“Okay, okay.” You lower yourself to level with her eyes. “Why are we getting down?”

“Didn’t you—you don’t see what happened to her?!” Asa screeches and wheezes, curling into herself further. “They shot her! THEY SHOT HER IN THE HEAD! She was smiling and they shot her! Blood…there’s blood everywhere…”

“Alright, Asa-san. Listen to me—”

“We’re all gonna die! We’re stuck out here, we’re gonna—”

“Enami Asa!” you call out just loud enough to be heard over her own rambling. “Look at me! Over here, where my voice is. Can you hear me?”

 Asa slowly lowers her head and complies, looking in your general direction. “Good. Now breathe. Slow in, slow out. Don’t rush. Let it through.” She nods and tries, taking multiple attempts to smooth out. 

“Easy…good. Now, what are you sitting on right now? Can you feel it?”

She snakes her hand down, tapping and rubbing her chair. “C–Chair. A…a chair.”

“Can you say it for me?”

“Huh…huh?”

“‘I am sitting on a chair’. Say it. Take a breath first if you need to,” you gently guide her.

“I…I am—” She takes the preceding breath. “I am sitting…on a chair.”

“Good. Now where is that chair?”

“It…ah!” She ducks to avoid something invisible. “In…in the café—Camel Café.”

“Good. Say it for me. ‘I am sitting on a chair in the Camel Café.” This cycle repeats, each time adding more and more components that help guide Asa back to the present she’s been distanced from. 

“Very good. You’re coming back. Now…” You reach out for her still trembling hand, laying your hand on top of it with the lightest touch that’s enough for her to feel all of it. “You are in here, not out on the battlefield. You are with me, not with your troops. You are…safe, Enami Asa. We’re here for you. I’m here for you.”

Some colour begins returning to Asa’s face, her breathing much softer and quieter than before. “I…” she attempts something but it ultimately fades away. “You don’t need to say this one back, just nod if you understand all that. Mmkay?”

Asa stares at you for several more seconds before she nods. A quiet sob breaks through, then breaks down into longer cries. The tables around you breathe out a collective sigh of relief, returning to their business. You softly tap Asa’s hand throughout, whispering quiet assurances to her.

***

“I, uh…” Asa sniffles sometime later, her voice hoarse but relaxed. “I guess you know about my past life now, huh?”

You shrug. “Yeah, very few professions would cause such an…effect on someone. I could see some signs earlier though. Not too big of a surprise, heh.”

She nods and chuckles, wiping her nose. “Not at all.”

“Yeah.” You look over your shoulder at Takaki who’s signing you to get back to the counter. “Well, I…gotta get back now, okay? I’ll be right over there—”

“Wait, wait. Just…stay. A bit longer, please?” Asa reaches out for your hand. You smile and nod, mouthing ‘five more minutes’ to Takaki. 

“How, um…how did you know to do that? The…whatever you did to me.”

“Ah, that?” Your lips stretch to a pensive smile, shifting in your seat. “It…my dad. On his way home from the city he was hit by this…sports car thing. Went stupid fast and blew through a red, and…my dad’s car was in his way.” You nod and swallow, your throat feeling a bit heavy. “Dad made it, but uh, Mom…Mom didn’t.”

Asa’s grip on your hand tightens, some moments of silence passing. “That…I’m sorry. I don’t know…what to say. That’s horrible!” she whispers. 

“You don’t gotta say anything,” you wave. “Anyways, it’s a few years ago now. But, Dad still has these…episodes, occasionally. A lot more then, he’s much better now. But yeah, that’s how I calmed him down whenever it happened!” You shrug and smile, wiping away non-existent snot under your nose.

“Gosh, what a mess. I’m sorry, Asa-san. I shouldn’t…” You sigh. “It was my fault, I–I got you into this, pushed you towards it. It was a big mistake.”

Asa squints her eyes at you, the most hostile expression you’ve ever seen her wear. ”It wasn’t a mistake for me.”

Your eyes open a bit wider. “Wait, what?”

“It…it did create a big mess, and it was scary, but…” Her expression grows warmer again. “ …I’m feeling braver than I’ve felt in years now. Years!”

“Really?”

“Mhm! I don’t know if I would ever have tried it without you.” She cringes and peeks at the floor. “That is a lot of tea on the floor, though. I’m sorry, I would clean it myself, but…I know you won’t let me.”

“You bet!” you scoff as you stand up. “Dude will actually curse me for three generations if I make you do it. It’s my responsibility anyway.”

Asa laughs, looking down at her lap. “Thank you. For that, for…everything, really.”

“You’re welcome—whoa,” you raise your hands, leaning back. “You’re not going away or something, are ya? Why’d you say it like that?” She looks up, slightly flummoxed. It really is adorable, you can’t deny. “Huh?”

“I’m kidding!” you laugh and lower your hands. “You’re fun to tease, Asa-san.”

“Tsch. Get back to work already! Soon enough your boss will ban me for all of your time I’m taking,” she giggles.

“I’ll go on strike if he does that. And I am working,” you say smugly. “But yeah, he might cut my pay, actually. Shit.” Right as you turn around, Asa shoots up to her feet. “Then, um…can–can I have your number?”

“Why, that’s—huh?”

“You know, so that I could…take up your time outside of work instead?” Asa sounds stable and confident, but her hands are shuffling all over the place. You giggle, grinning widely. “Sounds like a plan.”

***

Asa does not waste the established contact at all. She’s way chattier online than in person, and it doesn’t take too long before short, casual messages escalate into sending you all sorts of pictures and thoughts. Things she sees walking, rants about her thesis, would-you-rathers and hear-me-outs that both of you spend far too much time on. A bulk of your downtime is now spent replying and reading them. Honestly, it was a bit overwhelming early on. Now? You enjoy nearly every bit of the noise.

Another new habit Asa’s picked up is waving at you through the window before she enters, jumping in place at times. It warms your heart every time, and you wave back with equal excitement whenever you can.

October has been cold and this late afternoon is the coldest yet, the café’s heating turned up almost to full power. You wear more layers than usual indoors, in preparation for the unpredictable dash outside that happens every so often. 

Then, in the corner of your eye, you see her. Walking slower than everybody else that is trying to keep warm. She’s back in those choreographed steps that you saw the first few times, but this one is different. They’re immensely weighted, yet float across the ground like it’s made of clouds.

The smile growing on your face drops back down, your eyes narrowing a smidge. Atop Asa’s head is a green tricorn hat with some goldish emblem in the center. You don’t need to see exactly what the emblem looks like to know what it is, further confirmed when you peek between her dark green long coat. White shirt, green necktab, green suit jacket, and green trousers; she’s in Army full dress. And those aren’t worn without occasion.

As she gets closer, you can better see her eyes, how tired they are. Dark eyebags that are just about hidden by her makeup, something most passerbys wouldn’t notice. But you do. You’ve seen how bright those eyes can be.

Asa takes longer to notice you, only a few steps from the door when she does. Her expression lights up several degrees, but the fatigue is still evident. You wave back and smile as usual, feeding each other’s warmth. On her side, that dissipates real quick the moment she sees something across the street, something beyond your field of vision. 

You lower your hand, cocking your head around to try and see what she’s seeing. You don’t have to look for long though. From the corner of your vision emerges a man in a long coat, a peaked cap resting stiffly atop his head. The same colour as hers. His coat has one glaring difference though; gold and red epaulettes on the shoulders, with a couple silver cherry blossoms pinned on it. An officer.

Your curiosity turns to mild anxiety, not helped by the way Asa looks at him. That is with seething disdain, sparsely returning his bow. He says something to her, you can see his jaws moving from behind. One arm is clutching something underneath it while the other arm extends toward the door, likely inviting her to continue their discussion inside.

Whatever it was he suggested, Asa shoots it down, slashing it apart with her gaze while hissing something through her teeth. She cocks her head as she turns around and storms somewhere, the officer walking in tow.

***

Minutes grow, so does your unease. Who was he? What did Asa have to do with him? Why’d she have to lead him away somewhere? She was NOT pleased to see him. Maybe it’s not him, it’s the Army as a whole? What did she have to do with them still? What if they—

“Excuse me! I’m trying to order!”

You flinch and nearly fall over from your knee buckling. Breathing hard, spine is stone cold. Nothing to do with the weather, it’s nice and warm in here. “I, uh…um. Welcome! To–to…Camel Café. Where is—I mean, what can I get you?”

The customer shrugs it off and makes their order, you carry out the process as usual. As you make their drinks though, one, two missteps are made. You course correct just in time to not ruin them, but you are cutting it pretty close. 

“Dude, you alright?” Takaki asks, popping out from the kitchen. 

“Yeah man, it’s cool.” The cup sealer feels stiffer for some reason. Perhaps it’s actually you feeling weaker. “No! I don’t know dude, I keep…I keep worrying. It’s so weird, it’s driving me nuts! I don’t worry this much, not me.”

“Ooh, do I detect a…something something?” he snickers, turning dead serious seconds later. “But seriously, I think you need a break. You don’t look too hot.”

“I can handle it,” you grit. “It’s just a…stupid thing in my head.”

“That stupid thing in your head almost ruined two drinks. Finish those and take a walk or something. I’m serious.”

“It’s fine! I’ve gone on enough sidequests on the clock already, I’m gonna make my time’s worth.”

Takaki scoffs, putting his hands on his waist. “Am I some corporate demon or something? Fine. But if you force yourself and get sick later, I will make you work through it.”

You stare at him, dumbfounded. “Will you really?”

“Take a fucking break!”

“Okay, okay!” You check for leaks on the cups and push them to the pick up counter. “And the new kid? Will she be alright?”

“Ha! She’ll be more than alright. Kid could probably fly a plane after a good enough tutorial. Go on man, I got this. We changed it to a pick-up system for a good reason, hey?”

“Yeah. Thanks, Takaki! I’ll make it up to you!”

“Ew, I have a girlfriend, thank you.” You both laugh loudly as you make your way outside. The freezing cold whiplashes you, but it’s nothing to the anxiety that brews within you again. 

***

You walk to a faraway part of the street you’ve never gone to, trying to clear your mind. Pacing back and forth within the same twenty meters, a brief point of wonder for the few passers by. “It’s okay…it’s okay. It’s all–all worse in my mind. Never—”

“Oh.” A voice brings you back into the present, and the source is right in front as you open your eyes.

“Oh? Oh! Asa-san!”

Asa stares at you, then smiles and waves a bit stiffly. “Hi! What…what are you up to out here?”

“Asa-san! Asa…” You dash towards her, panting despite only going like three meters. “You’re here! You’re…you—” Her appearance is so overwhelming for some reason. With what emotion? You’re not entirely sure yourself.

“Eh? What—are you crying? Why are you crying?” Asa slides her coat off and throws it over your shoulder before you can protest. Not that you really can, being the sobbing, shaking mess that you are.

“Did something happen at the café?”

You shake your head and frantically wipe away tears, stammering repeatedly before uttering something intelligible. “I was…I was really worried about you.”

Asa raises her eyebrows, looking around. “Me? You were worried?”

“Mhm!” you nod. “I had…there—I had all these…thoughts, you know. That something might’ve happened to you. You—you stormed away, and…the way you looked at that officer, it—” You cough hard. “I couldn’t think straight, I was so worried!”

Asa’s mouth opens and closes, then she scoffs. But her subsequent tone isn’t dismissive, rather warm and soft. Enough to reach you, but inaudible to everyone else. “So that’s what made you worried? Did you think he was going to…try things on me?”

“Maybe?” you croak. “I—I don’t know. I’ve been reading a lot of things online, about the…the things that the government and the military had apparently done. Especially to people against that fucking war.” You sigh and ruffle your hair. “I guess all the…anxiety and the doom bled over. It’s probably silly.”

She nods slowly, looking down at her shoes, then back up at you. “It’s…not silly.”

“Really?”

She shakes her head. “My trade wasn’t in that area. You know, PR and Intel. But…I have dealt with their sort. Especially because of my trade. And…” She clicks her tongue, exhaling a visible plume of breath. “A lot of the things you’ve seen are not beyond them to do at all.”

“Of course, it’s all ‘alleged’ because there’s yet to be concrete evidence,” she shrugs and chuckles. “But those playbooks aren’t new. Not in 2032. Been done plenty of times by other parties.”

“R–Right.” You’re starting to shiver now the adrenaline’s wearing off. “So…t–that guy earlier really didn’t do anything foul, right?”

“Of course not. I wouldn’t let him.” Asa eyes you up and down, then bursts out laughing. 

“W–What?”

“Nothing, it’s just…you really were worried sick, running out here without a scarf, a coat, or anything!”

“Ah, y–yeah, about that. I uh…left them back at the c–café. ” You shiver hard and rub your hands together. “A–Aren’t you cold? You’re not wearing m–much more than I am. Here—”

“Nu–uh.” Asa stops you from returning her coat. “I can deal with it until we get to the café. You need it a hell of a lot more than I do,” she chuckles.

“I–I guess, heh.” You wrap her coat around yourself harder. “Let’s get back.” You two start walking back to the café, nothing but your shudders and the street’s noises filling the first half.

“You look good, b–by the way,” you chirp. 

“Hm?”

“That uniform. Looks good on you.”

Asa smiles and hums, straightening her already razor sharp collar. “Thanks. It better with how expensive the damn tailor was.”

“Heh. I didn’t know you had to pay for that.”

“Ha! There’s tons we had to pay for ourselves. Makes you wonder where all that defense spending goes.”

You nod, wiping off some ice crystals from your nose. “What was the occasion, if I may know?”

“Occasion?”

“I heard you guys don’t wear this too often, so…what was it for?”

“Ah, this?” She glances at the ribbons above her left breastpocket, then looks into the distance for a few before answering, “A funeral. It was a funeral.”

“I see.” Asa slows down her steps slightly, and you match her. “Someone you knew?”

“Nope. Never heard of her until four days ago,” she shrugs. “I did work with who she left behind, though. And…” She sighs and stretches her arms. “ …I am a bit worried about him. After how he dealt with the last time…” Asa clears her throat and waves her hands like swatting away a thought bubble. “Anyways, that’s what I’m all dressed up for. I don’t want to get into it too much.”

You nod and leave it at that, all the way until you arrive in front of the café. “Here we are. Man, it looks so warm and cozy inside. Here.” You slide off her coat and hand it back to her. “Thanks for letting me use it.”

“You’re welcome. Is it really okay for you to be out this long?”

“Oh, dude was about to boot me through the window if I didn’t take a break.” Asa bursts out laughing at that, making you cackle as well. “You sure got an interesting boss!”

“Yeah, tell me about it. You uh…coming in, or do you have somewhere else to be?” 

Asa tilts her head side-to-side. “Well, there’s my thesis. Probably should get back on that, fuck ton of revisions.”

“Aha. Yeah, I know that feeling.” You stick your hands in your pocket and inhale through your teeth. “Well, good luck with that. I’m rooting for you! See you…whenever I see you again, Asa-san. Bye!” you jump and wave.

Asa grins and waves back with both of her hands. You turn around and are about to open the door when you hear, “Whatabouttonight?” 

It was so fast you didn’t catch a single word. “Sorry, what?” 

“Er…that, ‘whenever I see you again’. What if that whenever is…is tonight?” she asks, voice shrinking towards the end.

You stare at her before chuckling, “Are you asking to hang out?”

Asa snaps her head up at you. “Well, that—yeah! Yes. I mean, we always hang out when you’re on the clock, and I feel bad.” She swings side-to-side, hands behind her back. “So…what if we hang out properly? You know, just…coffee and chat, or snacks and chat, or—or, we don’t even need to do much. Just…walks and stuff. If–if you’re down, of course. No need to force it if you’re not…free.”

You laugh boisterously, tickled by how cute she is all nervous and excited like this. “I am down and will be free. Don’t you worry.”

“Great!” She jumps on her feet. “Then…see you tonight?”

“Yep! I’ll text you when I’m done.” You smile widely and wave with both hands. “Scratch that, I’ll call you when I’m done! Bye!”

Outside the open doors, the training ground rings with disciplining shouts. Your Green Standard troops drill in neat squares, spears thrusting in unison, bows drawn and released with sharp twangs, officers barking corrections. The red-and-gold banner with your coiled dragon, wave, and crossed sword-anchor symbol snaps overhead in the sea breeze. You glance up now and then to watch the formations shift, satisfied with the crispness after months of Penghu blood and sweat.

A young servant boy - barely sixteen, one of the new household additions - bursts through the side door, sandals slapping against stone. He drops to his knees so quickly his forehead nearly kisses the floor.

“General!”

His voice cracks with haste.

“Lady Xinyu bids you come at once to her chambers. She says the matter is urgent and cannot wait.”

You set the brush down. The ink bead trembles on the tip, then falls. Urgent from Xinyu is never trivial. You rise, robe whispering against the mat.

The boy scrambles ahead. You stride through the middle courtyards, past lotus ponds where carp glide beneath lily pads, past the private theater where musicians sometimes play at dusk, then through the moon gate into the women’s quarters. The garden here is quieter, jasmine heavy in the air, silk lanterns swaying gently even though it is still daylight.

Xinyu’s pavilion stands at the center. It’s the largest and most ornate. Red-lacquered pillars, silk curtains the color of ripe persimmons, carved peonies climbing the screens. Already a small crowd has gathered on the stone path outside. Maids in plain blue ao stand with lowered eyes. Your chief steward hovers nearby, hands clasped behind his back. And then there are the three of them.

Tzuyu waits closest to the door. Her posture is perfect, hands folded inside wide pale blue sleeves. Her long hair is pinned with a single jade hairpin shaped like an orchid. The silk of her robe catches the light so it shimmers like water. She meets your gaze for only a heartbeat before looking down again. She looks elegant, composed, yet you know the quick pulse at her throat betrays her.

Shuhua stands a step behind, arms crossed loosely under her chest so the vibrant green silk pulls taut across her figure. A small smirk plays at the corner of her mouth, but her eyes are sharp and watchful. She has added a thin silver chain with a tiny shell pendant around her neck. Something she brought from the island.

Nien casually leans against a pillar, in soft peach silk, sleeves rolled to her elbows as though she was in the middle of some light chore when the summons came. She twirls a jasmine blossom between her fingers, but the playful tilt of her head does not hide the way her gaze flicks between you and the closed doors of Xinyu’s chamber.

The steward bows low as you approach.

“General.”

You nod once. The crowd parts. You push the curtain aside and step into Xinyu’s receiving room.

The space is warm, perfumed with aloeswood and a faint trace of medicinal herbs. Xinyu sits on the low platform bed, back straight despite the slight curve already visible beneath her loose rose-pink robe. Her hands rest in her lap with her fingers laced. She looks up at you and, for the first time in weeks, there is no carefully schooled calm on her face. Only quiet, radiant certainty. Behind you the three concubines enter in single file, silent, each taking a place along the wall. Tzuyu to your left, Shuhua to your right, Nien nearer the door. The maids withdraw, letting the heavy curtain fall.

Xinyu draws a slow breath.

“My lord, this morning the physician confirmed it. I carry your child.”

The words drop into the room like a stone into still water. You feel the shift in the air at once. The way Tzuyu’s breath catches, the way Shuhua’s smirk vanishes, the way Nien’s fingers still on the jasmine blossom until the petals bruise. Xinyu’s gaze moves past you to the three younger women. Her expression is gentle, almost kind, but there is steel beneath it.

“The household will rejoice.”

She continues softly.

“But the child will need brothers and sisters to strengthen our line. I trust my lord will see to that duty… in due time.”

She looks back at you, eyes shining.

The evening arrives with the slow fade of sunset over the harbor, turning the sea into molten gold. Lanterns are lit along every path and pavilion, their warm glow pushing back the creeping darkness. In the grand banquet hall, long tables are set with lacquered trays. Steamed abalone glistening in ginger soy, crisp-skinned duck glazed with honey, platters of fresh crab from the morning boats, bowls of fragrant rice studded with lotus seeds, and delicate sweets shaped like peaches, symbols of longevity and fertility.

You sit at the head of the main table, Xinyu to your immediate left. Her rose-pink robe has been changed for one of deeper crimson silk. The wide sleeves are embroidered with subtle phoenixes that rise as she gestures. She looks radiant, the faint curve of her belly hidden but somehow announced by the way she carries herself. To your right sit the three concubines in careful order: Tzuyu closest, then Shuhua, then Nien. Tzuyu’s pale blue silk falls in perfect folds, her movements careful. Shuhua’s vibrant green catches the lantern light every time she leans forward. Nien’s soft peach seems almost to glow against her skin. They sit with the practiced grace of women who know they are watched.

A handful of guests fill the other seats. Two wealthy Fujianese merchants who supply your ships, a minor magistrate from the nearby prefecture, and Lady Wei, the wife of a coastal garrison commander. She’s sharp eyed, silver haired, and already deep in conversation with Xinyu about midwives and auspicious birth dates.

The congratulations begin almost immediately. Cups are raised again and again.

“To the General and Lady Xinyu. May the child be strong, wise, and bring endless prosperity!”

Xinyu inclines her head with perfect modesty, accepting each toast with a small smile. The women cluster around her, asking about cravings (none yet, but she jokes about sudden desires for Taiwanese mangoes), sharing remedies, laughing softly over old birthing tales. For this evening, at least, the household orbits her.

Your own conversations pull in a different direction. The merchant across from you leans in, voice low beneath the music of the pipa and erhu players in the corner.

“General, the new trade route from Tainan is open, but the pirate remnants still lurk near Penghu. If we could station another squadron-”

You nod, swirling wine in your cup.

“I’ve already drafted the request to Admiral Shi Lang. Two more junks with swivel guns should suffice. The Emperor wants steady rice flowing north before winter.”

The magistrate chimes in about tax exemptions for settlers willing to farm the interior. You listen, respond, commit details to memory. Politics and business weave through every sip and every bite.

Then the musicians shift tempo. A livelier melody rises. Strings get plucked in quick, playful runs. Nien sets her chopsticks down. Without a word she stands, smooth as water, and steps into the open space between tables. No one seems surprised. In households like yours, especially after a victory feast or good news, a concubine dancing is not unusual. It is entertainment, a display of grace, a way to honor the host. Nien moves as though the music has simply pulled her in.

Her peach silk flutters as she turns, arms lifting in slow arcs, wrists flicking like willow branches in wind. She spins once, twice. The hem rises just enough to show the delicate curve of her calves, then sinks low, one knee bending, head tilting back so her dark hair spills like ink. The lanterns catch every motion, turning her into flickering light and shadow.

You glance at her again and again. Her form is elegant and fluid, unmistakably inviting. The way her hips sway, the intended pause when she extends a hand toward the musicians as if offering herself to the melody…it is artful and practiced, but tonight it feels personal. Her eyes find yours once, twice, three times. Each meeting lasts only a heartbeat, yet in that look there is no coyness. It is direct. Hungry. A silent question.

You look away, toward Xinyu. She watches Nien with calm amusement, one hand resting lightly on her belly. Lady Wei says something. Xinyu laughs softly, then replies. There is no tightness in her shoulders, no flicker of irritation. The pregnancy has shifted something fundamental. Xinyu is no longer merely first among equals. She is the mother of the heir, the uncontested center. The three foreign concubines, beautiful as they are, suddenly seem less threatening. Almost decorative. The dance ends to polite applause. Nien returns to her seat, cheeks faintly flushed, breathing a little quicker. She does not look at you again, but you feel the weight of her earlier gaze lingering.

The evening stretches. More dishes arrive. lotus root stir-fried with pork, clear broth with fish maw, and more wine is poured. Guests begin to excuse themselves one by one. Lady Wei departs with effusive promises to send her best midwife. The merchants bow and leave with assurances of loyalty. The magistrate lingers longest, finishing a quiet discussion about harbor patrols.

Xinyu rises at last, graceful despite the hour.

“My lord, I will retire. The child demands rest.”

You stand and offer your arm. She takes it briefly, presses your hand once, then slips away toward her pavilion, maids trailing like shadows.

The hall empties slowly. Servants clear trays. Musicians pack their instruments. Only the last merchant remains, the one who spoke of pirates earlier. You walk him to the outer doors, sealing the final details of tomorrow’s orders. He bows deeply and then vanishes into the night.

Silence falls over your estate. You turn left toward the moon gate that leads to the inner garden. Halfway down the shadowed corridor, you round the corner.

Shuhua stands there. She leans against a red-lacquered pillar, arms folded loosely under her chest, the green silk of her robe catching the faint lantern light from the garden beyond. Her chin lifts when she sees you. She doesn’t say anything at first, but her face is in conflict with herself. A mischievous smile tugs at the corner of her lips, but her eyes are full of determination.

Shuhua straightens from the pillar as you approach, her arms unfolding slowly. The moon light catches the silver shell pendant at her throat, making it twinkle a little.

“My lord, I dislike seeing you walk these corridors alone at night. Must be tiring, carrying the weight of the household on your shoulders.”

You stop a few paces away.

“It’s a familiar burden.”

She tilts her head, studying you.

“The banquet was long. Everyone fawning over Lady Xinyu and her precious news. You barely touched your wine.”

“I had business to attend.”

A small laugh escapes her.

“Always business.”

She pushes off the pillar and takes one step closer.

“Did you like Nien’s dance at least? She moves like she’s trying to remind everyone she exists.”

You don’t answer immediately. Shuhua’s eyes narrow, pleased by your silence.

“She’s sweet.”

You say at last.

“Sweet.”

Shuhua echoes, rolling the word like it tastes sour.

“How boring. You must be starving for something with bite.”

The air between you thickens. She closes the last distance, stopping so close you can smell the faint jasmine oil she favors. Something she brought from the island, stubborn and defiant against the mainland scents of the estate.

“Walk with me.”

Not a question.

She turns without waiting, green silk whispering as she moves down the moonlit path toward her pavilion. You follow. The garden is quiet. Only the distant lap of waves against the harbor and the occasional rustle of leaves break the silence. At her door she pauses, glancing back over her shoulder.

“You’re still here. Good boy.”

You raise an eyebrow at her attitude, but it’s not unfamiliar anymore.

Inside, the room is smaller than Xinyu’s but brighter. The lanterns hang low, casting warm pools of light across silk screens painted with crashing waves and distant islands. A low bed dominates the center, piled with embroidered cushions and a thin quilt the color of young bamboo.

Shuhua doesn’t hesitate. She turns, places both hands flat on your chest, and shoves. You fall back onto the bed, the mattress yielding under your weight. Before you can sit up she’s on you, straddling your hips, knees bracketing your thighs. Her robe parts at the front just enough to show the smooth line of her collarbone and the dip of her breasts beneath thin silk.

“You didn’t look at me all evening. Every time Nien spun, your eyes were on her. But you’re mine now.”

Her breath is warm against your skin. You slide your hands up her thighs, feeling the heat of her through the fabric. She shivers once, then presses harder into your lap.

“Not slow tonight. Never slow with me. You know that.”

She starts with kisses. Quick, hungry ones across your cheek, your jaw, the corner of your mouth. Then she finds your neck. Her teeth graze just enough to sting before she sucks a mark there. Her hips roll in a slow, heavy grind, pressing her heat against the growing hardness beneath your robes. Your hands move higher, cupping the firm curve of her ass through the thin silk. The fabric is slippery, barely a barrier. You squeeze. She gasps softly against your throat, then bites down again, sharper this time.

“Good. Touch me like you mean it.”

One hand leaves your neck. She reaches between your bodies, deft fingers working the ties of your trousers open. Cool air hits your skin for only a second before her palm wraps around your cock.

“Look at you.”

She whispers, lips still at your ear, voice dropping lower.

“Already so hard for your bratty little island princess. You pretend to be so composed in that hall, but here? Here you’re just a man who wants to fuck me raw.”

She continues to stroke your cock with slow, teasing up-and-downs, then squeezes at the base.

“Say it.”

Her demand is soft, almost sweet.

“Tell me you want this. Tell me you’re going to ruin me tonight while your perfect wife sleeps with your heir safe inside her.”

Her hips rock forward again, grinding her clothed heat along your length. The friction is maddening. You grip her ass harder, pulling her down so she feels every inch of your dick pressing up against her. Shuhua laughs and leans in to kiss you properly this time, all teeth and hunger, no gentleness at all.

You flip her, rolling so Shuhua is suddenly beneath you. Her back hits the quilt with a soft thud. Her green silk robe fans out around her like a bed of grass, dark hair spilling across the embroidered cushions. She gasps once, surprised by your switch, then immediately tries to mask it with that familiar smirk. You brace yourself on one forearm beside her head, caging her in. Your free hand pins her wrists above her head.

“You’re being unusually annoying tonight.”

Shuhua blinks up at you, eyes wide and innocent for half a heartbeat before the mask cracks. She flutters her lashes.

“Me? Annyoing? I don’t know what you mean, my lord. I’m just… keeping you company after such a long day.”

You don’t smile. You don’t need to. You can see the calculation behind her wide-eyed act, the way her thighs shift restlessly beneath you. You don’t particularly care about the quiet tension that simmers between her and Xinyu. Petty jealousies, veiled barbs in the garden, the way the three concubines sometimes glance at your wife like she’s stolen something they never quite had. As long as they keep it away from you, let them claw at each other all they want. But tonight? Tonight she didn’t even give you the chance to choose whose pavilion you’d visit. She ambushed you in the corridor, dragged you here without a word of invitation or permission. You can put two and two together.

You lean closer, lips brushing the shell of her ear.

“I don’t care what games you play with Xinyu. But when it comes to me? Be a good woman. Look pretty. Stay quiet.”

Shuhua’s breath hitches. Then she laughs, clearly defiant, the sound vibrating against your chest.

“Quiet?”

She whispers back.

“That’s no fun. That’s what Tzuyu does. You like it when I talk back. Admit it.”

You don’t answer with words. Instead, you shift your weight, turning her over so she’s on her stomach beneath you. She lets out a startled huff, palms pressing into the quilt as she tries to push up. You plant a hand between her shoulder blades, applying pressure. Your other hand finds the hem of her robe. You drag it up, bunching the silk at her waist until her lower half is completely bare to the lamplight. The curve of her ass, the smooth dip of her spine, the faint sheen of arousal already glistening between her thighs…it’s all exposed. You settle behind her, knees bracketing her hips. Your cock, still hard from her earlier teasing, nudges against her entrance. You lean down, chest pressing along her back, mouth at her ear again.

“The only thing you need to know tonight is how to take my cock.”

Shuhua opens her mouth, probably to fire off another bratty retort. But you don’t give her the chance. You push in with one steady thrust. She chokes on whatever words were coming, body arching sharply beneath you. A raw, broken sound escapes her - half moan, half gasp - as you sink deep, stretching her open in one go. Her walls clench wildly around your length, hot and slick and greedy despite her earlier bravado. You don’t pause. You pull back almost to the tip, then drive in again, harder this time, hips snapping forward. The wet slap of skin on skin fills the pavilion, louder than the distant waves outside. Shuhua’s fingers claw at the quilt. Her cheek presses into the cushion, mouth open, breaths coming in short, ragged bursts. Every thrust rocks her forward, every withdrawal drags a whimper from her throat. You keep the rhythm steady, just like she would if she were on top: deep, punishing, no gentleness. One hand slides up to grip her hip, holding her exactly where you want her. The other tangles in her hair so she can’t hide her face. She tries to speak again, but it dissolves into a moan when you angle your hips and hit that spot inside her that makes her whole body tremble. You lean down once more, lips grazing the nape of her neck.

“Quiet.”

You remind her.

“Pretty and quiet.”

She shudders beneath you, walls clenching hard around your cock. But she doesn’t talk back. At least not yet.

You keep the rhythm harsh, each thrust slamming deep, hips colliding with the soft curve of her ass in sharp, punishing slaps that echo through the small pavilion. The bed frame creaks under the force. The quilt bunches beneath her fists. Shuhua’s earlier pretense of quiet vanishes entirely. Instead, she moans. Loud, unrestrained, throatier than you’ve ever heard from her. The sounds spill out raw, carrying through the thin silk screens and into the garden beyond.

She wants the whole estate to hear. Every cry is pitched just right, high enough to pierce the night, drawn out enough to linger. It’s not pleasure alone, it’s performance. A declaration.

“This is me. This is who he’s choosing tonight. This could be the one who carries his next child.”

Your hand shoots forward, clamping over her mouth. Your palm seals tight against her lips, fingers pressing her cheek into the cushion.

“Quiet.”

Shuhua’s eyes flash. She doesn’t obey. Instead, she bites down hard enough to sting, teeth sinking into the meat of your palm. You hiss through your teeth but don’t pull away. She twists her head just enough to speak around your fingers, voice muffled but dripping with bratty triumph.

“Mmph-make me.”

She manages, the words fractured by another loud, broken moan as you drive in particularly deep.

That’s enough. You decide she doesn’t get to keep that smug little voice tonight. You pull your hand free only to slide it down, fingers wrapping around the slender column of her throat. Not choking…yet. Just firm enough to feel her pulse hammering against your palm. You give a light squeeze, then another, timing them with your thrusts. Each press makes her cough, short, startled gasps that cut off her moans mid-note. Her walls spasm around your cock in response, slick and clenching like she can’t decide whether to fight or surrender.

You pound harder. Relentless. No pause, no mercy. The wet slap of skin on skin grows louder and faster. Your hips snap forward with bruising force, burying yourself to the hilt every time, grinding against her cervix until her whole body jolts. Shuhua’s moans fracture completely, reduced to choked whimpers, then to breathless little ah-ah-ah sounds that can’t quite form words anymore. Her nails rake the quilt. Her back arches sharply, trying to take you deeper even as her lungs fight for air. You feel the heat coiling low in your gut, the telltale tightening. Your rhythm stutters for half a second as you chase the edge. Shuhua feels it too. Her body knows exactly what’s coming. She tries to speak again, voice wrecked and trembling, forcing innocence into the words even as her hips push back desperately against you.

“Please… fill me.”

She whispers, soft and sweet like she’s begging for a favor.

“Inside… please, my lord…”

You see straight through it. The wide eyes, the trembling lower lip, the way she clenches around you like she’s trying to milk you dry...She wants your seed. Wants the chance to swell like Xinyu, to claim the one thing your wife already has secured. After tonight’s attitude - the corridor ambush, the loud moans meant to taunt the entire household - you’re not in the mood to reward her.

No. When the pressure builds to breaking, you pull out quickly enough. Shuhua lets out a sharp, disappointed whine, cut short as you stroke yourself twice and spill across her ass. Thick ropes of cum paint her skin in hot streaks, dripping down the curve of her cheeks and pooling in the small of her back. She trembles beneath you, thighs shaking, breath ragged.

You release her throat. She coughs once, twice, then goes still.

For a long moment there’s only the sound of both of you breathing. Shuhua doesn’t move. Doesn’t speak. Her face is half-buried in the cushion, hair tangled, cheeks flushed dark. The disappointment is plain in the way her shoulders slump, the way her hips twitch once like she’s still hoping you’ll push back in. But she doesn’t dare say it. She doesn’t dare ask why you didn’t finish inside her. She just lies there - marked, used, unsatisfied - while the night outside stays quiet, as if the rest of the estate never heard a thing.

Eight days later, the morning sun filters softly through the carved wooden screens of the garden pavilion. The air carries the fresh scent of sea breeze mixed with jasmine from the nearby bushes. Servants move quietly, setting out steaming bowls of congee topped with pickled vegetables, fresh steamed buns, salted fish, and fragrant tea brewed with Taiwanese herbs. Xinyu is absent this morning. A maid quietly mentioned that the lady woke with mild nausea and chose to rest in her chambers. No one questions it. Pregnancy has its demands.

You sit at the head of the low table. To your right, in their usual order: Tzuyu closest, then Shuhua, then Nien. All three wear light morning robes.

The conversation flows easily, as it always does at these meals. Nien chatters about a new shipment of mangoes that arrived from the island yesterday.

“They’re so sweet this season, my lord. Much better than the ones we get here in Xiamen.”

Shuhua laughs and teases her gently.

“You say that every time a ship docks. One would think you’ve never tasted mainland fruit before.”

Tzuyu adds a soft comment about the weather and how the garden lotus flowers are beginning to bloom. She serves you a perfectly steamed bun with her usual grace, placing it on your plate without drawing attention to herself.

You eat steadily, nodding at their words, but your mind keeps drifting back to last night.

Tzuyu’s pavilion. The way her long legs wrapped around you, her quiet gasps turning into soft cries as you filled her twice. Two creampies that left her belly slightly swollen with your seed by the time you left her bed. The memory is still vivid: her elegant face flushed, eyes half-lidded with satisfaction, whispering your title like a prayer while her body trembled around you.

You glance at her now. Tzuyu catches your eye for a brief moment, a faint blush coloring her cheeks before she looks down at her bowl. You wonder silently what would happen if Xinyu gives birth to a daughter… while Tzuyu, after last night, carries your son. The first male heir coming from one of the Taiwanese concubines instead of the principal wife. The shift in power, the whispers among the servants, the way the household balance would tilt…You picture Xinyu’s face. That carefully controlled expression cracking into agitation and quiet fury. The drama that would ripple through the inner quarters, the three girls suddenly competing even harder. The thought amuses you. A low chuckle escapes your lips before you can stop it.

At that exact moment, Shuhua is in the middle of telling a light, exaggerated story about one of the kitchen maids mistaking a crab for a sea monster during yesterday’s market trip. Her delivery is sharp and funny, the timing perfect. Everyone at the table turns toward you, assuming your laugh was for Shuhua’s tale.

Nien giggles.

“See? Even the General finds it amusing!”

Tzuyu smiles softly, though her eyes flicker with a hint of curiosity. Shuhua’s back straightens instantly. Her shoulders square with visible triumph, a small, satisfied smirk tugging at her lips. She usually doesn’t get open favor when all three of you are together. You keep things balanced to prevent open jealousy. But this morning, that chuckle lands squarely on her. She sits a little taller, her emerald robe shifting as she leans forward just enough to emphasize her figure.

“Thank you, my lord. I’m glad my silly story could brighten the morning.”

You don’t correct them. Instead, you take another sip of tea. Shuhua’s eyes sparkle with quiet victory, while Tzuyu lowers her gaze again, fingers tightening slightly around her chopsticks. Nien watches the exchange with open curiosity, popping a piece of fruit into her mouth. Conversation picks up once more around the table. You glance at Tzuyu one more time. She meets your eyes again, before looking away. The breakfast continues with the gentle clinking of porcelain. Nien is now telling a lively story about a mischievous monkey she once saw near the harbor in Tainan as a child, while Shuhua occasionally interjects with teasing remarks. Tzuyu eats quietly.

You set down your chopsticks and reach for the tray of letters next to you which is holding several folded papers sealed with wax or tied with silk threads. You take the tray and begin sorting through them one by one while the girls continue eating and talking around you. The first is a routine report from one of your merchants in Fuzhou: dull matters of silk prices and shipping delays. You scan it quickly and set it aside. The second is a polite note from the local magistrate, thanking you for the recent favor regarding harbor patrols. Nothing urgent. You unfold the third letter. The paper is fine, the handwriting elegant and careful. The seal belongs to a respected Han family from the Tainan region. Tzuyu’s parents, a merchant-official clan that had aligned itself with the Qing after the conquest. They address you with the proper respect due to a victorious general.

“Honored General,

We are overjoyed to hear of the great blessing that has been granted to your household - a child on the way. May Heaven continue to smile upon you and grant your line strength and prosperity for generations.”

“News travels fast.”

You murmur with an amused scoff. The three concubines glance up at you almost simultaneously. Tzuyu’s chopsticks pause mid-air. She must recognize her family’s seal Shuhua’s eyes narrow with interest. Nien tilts her head.

You continue reading. The tone shifts from polite congratulations to something more direct, as expected from ambitious parents who see their daughter as a bridge to greater favor.

“We humbly pray that you will also bestow the same blessing upon our daughter Tzuyu. She is dutiful, graceful, and eager to serve you fully. A son from her would bring even greater glory to your household and secure the bonds between our families. We entrust her completely to your wisdom and care.”

You lower the letter. Your eyes lift and meet Tzuyu’s across the table. She is watching you now, a faint flush creeping up her neck, probably able to guess what the letter of her parents includes. You remember last night vividly: the way she clung to you, the two thick loads you pumped deep inside her, her quiet moans as her body accepted every drop. The thought flickers through your mind again: what if Xinyu bears only a daughter… while Tzuyu is already carrying your son from last night? The potential drama makes the corner of your mouth twitch.

You set the letter down without further comment and pick up the fourth one. This one carries the official seal of Admiral Shi Lang’s command. The handwriting is brisk. You unfold it and scan the contents. It is an order.

“General,

Pirate remnants loyal to the old Zheng cause have grown bold again near Penghu and the southern Taiwan coast. They have raided three merchant junks in the past month and threaten the new settlement routes. You are commanded to take your squadron of ships and two hundred Green Standard troops to suppress these bandits. Depart within ten days. Stabilize the sea lanes and ensure safe passage for imperial trade.”

You read the key lines in silence, then fold the letter neatly and place it on the tray. You take another sip of tea, mind already turning to preparations. Ships to ready, troops to muster, supplies to organize. A campaign of several weeks, perhaps two or three months if the pirates prove slippery.

The morning sun climbs higher as breakfast ends. You leave the garden pavilion with the weight of the military order already pressing on your mind. Preparations for the campaign will take most of your upcoming days.

A few hours later, in a shaded pavilion overlooking the lotus pond, Xinyu sits across from Lady Wei, the wife of the coastal garrison commander who had attended the dinner the night she announced her pregnancy. They play a quiet game of Weiqi on a low rosewood board. Xinyu moves a white stone with elegant precision.

“Your defense is as sharp as ever, Lady Wei.”

The older woman chuckles, placing a black stone to surround a small group.

“One must stay vigilant, especially when new life is growing. How are you feeling this morning? The nausea has passed?”

“A little better. The physician says it is normal in the early months.”

Lady Wei nods knowingly, then adds with a light smile:

“A strong son will make all the discomfort worthwhile. The household will feel more secure once the heir is born.”

Xinyu’s fingers pause over the next stone. The word “son” lingers in the air. She had said the same thing to you many times. She is certain it is a boy. Yet the comment makes her think. She knows you have been spending your nights with the three Taiwanese concubines ever since the pregnancy was confirmed. It is expected, of course. A man of your status cannot be left wanting, and she herself had told you to seek siblings for the child. Still, the reality stings more than she cares to admit. Every morning she notices the faint marks on your neck, the way the girls glance at you with fresh satisfaction. What if one of them is already carrying? What if she gives you only a daughter while one of those island girls produces a son? Her position as principal wife is secure in name, but influence in the household is something else entirely. As the game continues, Xinyu turns the stones over in her mind. She should actively support one of the concubines in front of you. Better to guide the choice than let the competition spiral out of control. Tzuyu is quiet and reserved, but Xinyu suspects it might be a clever front. The girl could be far more calculating than she appears. Shuhua is too wild, too unpredictable. Her sharp tongue and bold nature would make her dangerous if she gained real power. Nien, though… Nien seems the safest. Cute, playful, loveable. She doesn’t scheme openly for status or influence. She simply enjoys attention and seems content with whatever affection she receives. A son from Nien would be easy to manage.

Just as Xinyu settles on that thought, she glances toward the main path and sees you walking toward the outer gates, already dressed for the day’s duties. Dark robe with a military sash, boots ready for the harbor. She excuses herself gracefully.

“Please continue without me for a moment, Lady Wei. I must speak with my husband before he leaves.”

Xinyu rises and walks over to you with slow steps, her crimson robe flowing around her still modest belly. You stop when you see her.

“Xinyu. Are you feeling better this morning?”

She smiles softly, placing a hand lightly over her abdomen.

“Much better, my lord. The boy is behaving himself today.”

You nod, eyes flicking to her hand.

“Good. Take care of yourself…and him.”

Xinyu hesitates only a moment, then speaks with careful subtlety.

“The girls have been attentive lately. Especially Nien. She has such a gentle, cheerful way about her. It brightens the household.”

You acknowledge the comment with a small hum, already thinking about the campaign preparations. Xinyu continues, making it a touch more obvious.

“She would make a fine companion for your nights while I rest. Playful and easy to please. I think you would enjoy her company more often.”

You raise an eyebrow, finally catching the suggestion.

“Nien?”

Xinyu meets your gaze.

“Yes. She seems the least likely to cause unnecessary trouble. A good choice for now.”

You study her for a beat, then nod once.

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

She smiles again, satisfied that the seed has been planted.

“Go safely with your preparations today. The household will be waiting for your return.”

You bid her farewell and continue toward the gates. Once you are out of sight, Xinyu stands still for a moment, then turns to a waiting maid. She knows your weaknesses well. You can be firm with troops and merchants, but when it comes to the four women in your life, you sometimes let things flow too easily without seeing the undercurrents.

“Call for Nien. Tell her I have a small errand for her in the Xiamen market. She should fetch some fresh Taiwanese mangoes and herbs for my tea. Make sure she leaves soon.”

The maid bows and hurries off.

The midday sun beats down on the bustling Xiamen docks, turning the sea into a glittering expanse of blue. You stand on the raised deck of one of your junks, overseeing the final preparations for the upcoming campaign. Sailors and soldiers swarm the ships, loading barrels of fresh water, crates of dried provisions, bundles of arrows, and extra matchlock muskets. Officers shout orders while carpenters hammer reinforcements onto the hulls. The air smells of salt, tar, fish, and sweat.

You gesture to one of your lieutenants, pointing at a list on a bamboo scroll.

“Double the rice stores. We may be out for two months if the pirates scatter into the smaller islands.”

While the man nods and hurries off, your eyes drift across the crowded waterfront market that sprawls along the docks. Merchants hawk goods straight from newly arrived ships: bolts of silk, crates of tea, Taiwanese fruits, and baskets of wriggling seafood. Fishermen call out their morning catches, their voices blending into the lively chaos.

Then you spot her. Nien moves through the crowd with a small group of maids trailing behind. She wears a simple but pretty peach-colored robe suitable for an outing with subtle floral embroidery that catches the sunlight. Her dark hair is loosely pinned with a few fresh flowers, and her face glows with genuine delight as she examines a stand piled high with ripe mangoes and exotic herbs. She laughs at something one of the maids says, her smile bright and carefree, completely at ease in the noisy market.

You watch her for a moment from your higher vantage point. She looks beautiful, youthful, playful, radiating that innocent charm that always seems to lighten the mood. For a few heartbeats you simply enjoy the sight, the way she tilts her head, the gentle sway of her robe as she reaches for a piece of fruit. Then you remember Xinyu’s words from earlier.

“…Nien. She seems the least likely to cause unnecessary trouble. A good choice for now.”

You hesitate, fingers tightening around the railing. It is broad daylight. You are in the middle of important preparations. Usually, you do not ask for such things so directly, especially not outside the privacy of the estate. And Nien… she is always so bright and cheerful, almost too pure for the kind of raw hunger stirring in you right now. Taking her in some semi-private corner of the market feels almost sinful. Like treating her like a common dockside whore instead of one of your cherished concubines. But the order to depart in ten days hangs over you. The campaign will keep you away for weeks, maybe months. And Xinyu herself planted the suggestion.

You descend the gangplank and stride into the crowded market, your military sash and commanding presence causing people to part instinctively. Merchants bow quickly as you pass. Your eyes stay fixed on Nien. She is standing at a merchant’s stall, happily bargaining over a bundle of fresh Taiwanese herbs when you approach from behind. One of her maids notices you first and quickly bows. Nien turns, and her face lights up with a bright, surprised smile.

“My lord! A wonderful coincidence!”

You nod, suddenly unsure how to steer the conversation. The usual elegance of the inner quarters feels far away in this noisy, public place. Nien tilts her head, still smiling that sunny, innocent smile.

“The mangoes are especially sweet today. Would you like me to pick some for the journey?”

You look at her.  At the way her eyes sparkle, the soft curve of her lips, the way her robe clings lightly to her figure in the sea breeze. Xinyu’s suggestion echoes again in your ear. For a moment the contrast hits you hard. She looks so cheerful and lovable standing here among the common people. It almost feels wrong to pull her away for something so base in the middle of the day.

Yet the hunger wins. You step closer, voice dropping so only she can hear.

“Nien… come with me for a moment.”

She blinks, still smiling, though a flicker of curiosity enters her eyes.

“Of course, my lord. Where to?”

You glance around quickly. The market is crowded, but you know this waterfront well. There is a large merchant warehouse belonging to one of your loyal suppliers just a short walk away. The upper floor has private rooms used for business negotiations, and the owner would never dare question your presence.

You gesture subtly in that direction.

“Follow me. Quietly.”

Nien hands the bundle of herbs to one of her maids with a quick instruction to continue shopping, then falls into step beside you. As you lead her through the crowd toward the warehouse, the sinful contrast lingers in your mind. She chatters lightly about the market finds, completely unaware of what you have in mind, while you feel the growing heat of anticipation. The warehouse door looms ahead. A quick word to the guard at the entrance, and he bows, clearing the way without a single question. The heavy warehouse door slides shut behind you with a solid thud, cutting off the noisy clamor of the market and the sharp smell of fish and salt air. In the sudden quiet, the only thing left is Nien. Her soft, feminine scent hits you immediately. Warm skin, faint jasmine from her hair, and that sweet, light perfume she always wears, mixed with the faint tropical sweetness of the mangoes she had been handling. It floods your senses and triggers a rush of memories. Her giggles in the dark, the way her body arches so willingly beneath you, the soft little sounds she makes when you’re gentle with her.

Your lust surges hard and fast, climbing with every step you take deeper into the dim corridor. You never make it to the private room upstairs. Two steps in, you lightly shove her against a tall stack of wooden crates and barrels. Nien’s back meets the wood with a soft gasp. Her eyes widen in surprise. The playful sparkle is replaced by genuine shock.

“My lord…?”

She stutters, voice small.

“Are you alright?”

You don’t answer with words at first. Your mouth is already on her neck, lips pressing hot against that sensitive spot just below her ear. The one you know makes her knees weak. You kiss, then suck gently, tasting her skin. Nien melts instantly. A shaky breath escapes her. Her hands come up to clutch at your robe, but she still tries to hold onto some dignity.

“W-wait… my lord.”

She whispers, voice trembling even as her head tilts to give you better access.

“Shouldn’t we… go somewhere more private? My chambers… or at least upstairs…”

“I can’t wait another second.”

One hand already roams over her body through the thin peach silk. You cup her breast, squeeze her waist, slide down to grip her hip.

“I’m sorry, Nien. I hate doing this to you like this… like you’re some commoner’s whore in the middle of the docks.”

Nien gasps sharply at your words, her body shivering against yours. Then, to your surprise, a tiny, cute laugh bubbles out of her. Nervous but genuine. She pulls back just enough to look up at you, cheeks flushed pink.

“Do you… want me to act the part?”

You blink, stepping back half a pace in surprise. Nien lets out another soft laugh, shy but playful, covering her mouth with her fingers for a moment.

“I love how careful and loving you always are with me.”

She admits quietly.

“It makes me feel special. But… whenever I hear Shuhua moaning so loudly through the estate, or when I walk past Xinyu’s chambers and hear her begging for more… I can’t help but wonder how it feels to be treated rough sometimes.”

You stare at her, caught off guard by the confession.

“I only treat you this way because of how you look and act. You’re always so cheerful and loving… like a beautiful flower that should be handled gently. Shuhua is just exaggerating when she-”

Nien shakes her head, a playful smile tugging at her lips.

“You really don’t believe the three of us talk about these things? Shuhua brags about it all the time.”

She closes the small distance you created, stepping right up to you again. Her small hands reach down and slowly start undoing the ties of your pants, fingers deft and steady despite the blush on her cheeks.

“You can treat me however you want, my lord. Even if that means I’m just an object for you to release your lust into. I’d… appreciate being treated like that from time to time as well.”

Her fingers finish loosening your pants and slip inside, wrapping gently around your already hard cock. The innocent, cheerful Nien is still there in her bright smile, but now there’s a new spark of curiosity and desire in her gaze. A quiet invitation to be rougher, dirtier, to use her the way you use Shuhua.

“So… what will you do with me, my lord?”

She asks sweetly, almost innocently, while her hand works your length.

“Here, against the crates… like I’m just your little dockside toy?”

The contrast between her cute voice and the filthy offer makes your blood burn even hotter. Your hands tighten on her waist, the raw need from moments ago now completely unleashed. You spin Nien around without warning and shove her forward against the stack of wooden crates. You’re careful not to be too rough at first, just enough force to pin her in place, her palms flattening against the rough wood as she braces herself. Nien lets out a sharp little gasp, her body jolting. A moment later she pushes her ass back against you instinctively, grinding softly, silently asking for more. Your hands roam over her body from behind, sliding up her waist, cupping her breasts through the thin peach silk, then moving down to grip her hips again.

She tries to speak. Her voice is a little awkward as she attempts something filthy.

“I… I’m your little… dockside toy now.”

She stammers a little, the words sounding almost cute despite her effort.

“Use me… however you want…”

You can’t help the small smile that tugs at your lips.

“You don’t have to try so hard.”

You murmur against her ear, one hand already pushing her robe up. You bunch the silk around her waist until her lower body is completely exposed. Nien whimpers softly.

“I’m sorry… I’ll learn. I want to pleasure you as good as I can. I really do.”

You line yourself up and push into her in one thrust. Her pussy is soaked. She’s hot, slick, and surprisingly tight around your cock. Nien moans immediately, a sweet, surprised sound that echoes softly in the dim corridor.

“Oh… my lord…”

She pushes back against you again. You start fucking her from behind, slow and deep at first, letting her adjust. But the hunger from earlier is too strong. You gradually lean into it, picking up speed, pounding harder with each thrust. The wet slap of skin against skin fills the narrow space between the crates. Nien does her best to keep up. Her hands grip the edge of the crate stack tightly, knuckles whitening. She’s never taken you this roughly before, and it shows. Her body trembles as she tries to get used to the intensity. Still, she keeps trying to talk, her voice breaking with every hard snap of your hips.

“You… ah!… you feel so big like this…H-hurry… before anyone sees us…”

There’s no real worry in her tone. If anything, the idea of getting caught seems to excite her. Her pussy clenches tighter around you with every teasing word, and her moans grow a little louder, a little sweeter. You grip her hips harder and thrust deeper, the pace turning rougher. Nien’s legs shake. She bites her lip, trying to stifle another moan, but it slips out anyway.

“I… I can take it…Please… don’t hold back… I want to be good for you…”

Her walls spasm around your cock as you pound into her, the contrast between her usual bright, cheerful self and the way she’s bent over crates in a warehouse only making you fuck her harder. Nien’s breathing turns ragged. She’s clearly still adjusting to the rough treatment, but she’s doing everything she can to please you, pushing her ass back to meet your thrusts, moaning softly with every deep stroke, even trying to keep up her awkward dirty talk between gasps.

You grip Nien harder and start fucking her with real roughness. Your hips snap forward with sharp, punishing thrusts, driving deep into her soaked pussy again and again. The wooden crates creak under the force. One of your hands slides up her back, tangles roughly in her dark hair, and tugs her head back. Several of the pretty flowers she had pinned in earlier tumble to the dusty floor.

“Ahh-!”

A loud, broken moan rips out of her, much louder than before. Her body jolts with every hard thrust, but instead of tensing up, she starts pushing back to meet you, her hips rolling greedily. The awkwardness from moments ago has completely vanished. Now her words spill out naturally, filthy and eager, each one making your cock throb harder inside her.

“Yes-! Fuck me harder, my lord…! Use your little dockside whore… I don’t care if someone walks in right now-I’ll still take every inch of your cock!”

You pound into her faster, the wet sounds of her pussy echoing in the narrow corridor. Nien keeps going, her voice growing bolder with every thrust.

“Take my sweetness away… ruin me…! Fuck the cheerfulness out of your cute little flower… Make me your dirty toy every single day… Please-use me like this whenever you want… I’ll spread my legs for you anywhere!”

You’re genuinely surprised by how loud she’s getting…and how much she’s talking. Shuhua has always been the loudest by far while Tzuyu is the quietest, usually only soft gasps and whispered pleas. Xinyu and Nien normally fall somewhere in the middle, depending on their mood. But right now? Nien has clearly surpassed Xinyu. Her moans are high, sweet, and shameless, filling the warehouse corridor without restraint. If she keeps this up, she might even challenge Shuhua for the top spot. The thought sends another surge of heat through you. You yank her hair a little harder, slamming into her with deep strokes. Nien’s legs shake violently, but she doesn’t try to quiet down. Instead, she cries out even louder.

“Harder-! Please, my lord… I can take it… I want you to break me… Fill me up right here where anyone could see… I don’t care-just use me!”

Her pussy clenches rhythmically around your cock, slick and hot, clearly loving the rough treatment. Every dirty word that leaves her mouth turns you on more, the contrast between her usual bright, innocent personality and the filthy things she’s begging for right now driving you wild. Nien’s voice cracks into another loud moan as you pound her without mercy.

“Do you like hearing your sweet Nien talk like this…? I’ll be louder for you… I’ll scream if you want… Just don’t stop-!”

You can feel her getting closer, her walls clenching around you with every rough thrust. Her cheerful, lovable demeanor has cracked wide open, revealing a hungry, surprisingly vocal side you never expected. She’s still pushing back against you desperately, flowers scattered on the floor around her feet, robe bunched uselessly at her waist, moaning and babbling dirty promises without any shame left.

But the rough pace suddenly changes the moment Nien reaches her peak. Her walls clamp down hard around your cock, fluttering and pulsing in strong, irregular waves. A loud, trembling moan tears from her throat. Then it softens, breaking apart into the familiar sweet sighs and delicate gasps you’re used to hearing from her.

“Ah… ahh… my lord…”

She whimpers, voice turning small and breathy again. For a few heartbeats she sounds exactly like the same old Nien - cute, sweet, almost innocent - as if the filthy words from moments ago had never left her lips. Your body reacts on instinct. You slow down immediately, thrusts turning gentler, almost protective. Something inside you refuses to keep pounding such a sweet, soft girl against dirty crates in a random warehouse. Your hips roll slowly, carefully, letting her ride out the aftershocks while you stay buried deep inside her.

Nien’s breathing gradually steadies. Her head rests against the wooden crate, eyes half-lidded, cheeks flushed a pretty pink. Then, to your surprise, her soft voice returns. Still gentle, still sweet, but now carrying a new, shy request.

“…Please… give me your cum. I want it inside… Fill me up, my lord…”

You blink, caught off guard. Nien has never asked for your seed like this before. The words sound almost too filthy coming from her usual bright, cheerful tone. You wonder if she picked that up from listening to Shuhua’s loud bragging sessions through the walls. You aren’t pounding her anymore, just slow, gentle thrusts, keeping her full while you process the contrast. Her innocent voice begging for something so dirty makes your head spin even harder than the rough fucking did.

“I want to feel it… deep inside me… Please cum for me…”

That sweet, lovable tone combined with her filthy plea finally pushes you over the edge. Your orgasm hits hard. You groan low against her neck and spill deep into her waiting pussy, thick ropes of cum flooding her warmth. Nien gasps and moans sweetly as she feels every pulse, her walls shaking again around you as if trying to milk out every drop.

“Thank you…Thank you for using me…”

Your lust slowly drains away, leaving your body heavy. You slump forward slightly, pressing her gently between your chest and the stack of crates. She’s trapped there, unable to move, your cock still buried inside her cum-filled cunt as it slowly softens.

For a long moment neither of you speaks. Then Nien lets out a shy little laugh.

“I… I enjoyed that very much. I don’t want to ask you to be so rough with me all the time… but whenever you’re in the mood for it… you can have me like this. Anytime.”

You lean down and press a soft kiss to her naked shoulder. The robe had slipped down earlier when you were tugging at it. Her skin is warm and slightly damp with sweat. Your eyes drift to the floor. A few scattered flowers lie among the dust. You make a mental note to buy her new ones on the way back to the estate later today. Her favorites.

You stay locked together like that for a while longer, your body shielding hers, cock still nestled inside her. Then Nien’s usual bright energy slowly returns. Even with you still buried deep inside her, her mind seems to drift far away from sex. She starts chattering again in that cheerful, playful voice you know so well.

“After you come back from your duties today… do you think we could play a game together? Maybe Weiqi in the garden pavilion? Or that new card game the merchants brought from the south? I’ve been practicing!”

You can tell she’s genuinely excited. Not about more sex, but simply about spending time with you. Her tone is light and happy, as if the intense moment against the crates had already become a fond memory rather than the main focus. You smile against her shoulder.

“I’ll make sure I have some time before dinner.”

Nien lets out a delighted little hum, her body relaxing even more against you.

A month has passed. The campaign against the pirate remnants has been grueling. Weeks of chasing shadows across the Taiwan Strait, stormy seas, and tense night raids on hidden coves near Penghu. Your squadron has sunk three pirate junks and scattered the rest, but the work is far from over.

Three days ago, while your ships were resupplying at a small harbor on the western coast of Taiwan, a messenger arrived from Nien’s family. Somehow, they had learned of your presence and extended a formal invitation. You and a small retinue were welcome to stay at their modest but respectable estate near Tainan for the remainder of the campaign. It would give your men safer anchorage and better provisions while you coordinated with local Qing officials. You hesitated for several reasons. Staying with the family of one of your concubines carried political weight. It could be seen as favoritism. It might also encourage the very competition you preferred to keep balanced. But refusing the offer outright would have been a grave insult to a family that had already lost much influence after the conquest. So, you accepted with measured gratitude.

Now you stand in the guest quarters of their estate, quickly cleaning yourself after another long week at sea. Servants bring fresh hot water and clean robes. You wash the salt from your skin, change into a simple but dignified dark silk robe, and make your way to the main hall for dinner. The hall is warmly lit with lanterns and candles. A long lacquered table is set with an impressive spread of fresh seafood, braised pork, fragrant rice, pickled vegetables, and delicate soups. Nien’s father, a scholarly looking man in his late forties named Master Lin, rises to greet you with a deep, respectful bow. His wife, Madam Lin, stands beside him, elegant in a muted green robe, her expression warm.

“General.”

Master Lin gestures for you to take the seat of honor.

“We are deeply honored by your presence. Please, make yourself comfortable. This humble home is yours for as long as you need it.”

You bow slightly in return and take your seat.

“I must thank you again for your generous hospitality. Your offer has made the campaign far more bearable. My men and I are grateful.”

Master Lin is tactful and measured as the meal begins. He speaks of the weather, the recent trade routes, and the stability the Qing has brought to the region. He never directly mentions Nien or any expectations. Yet you can read between the lines. This invitation is strategic. By hosting you, he strengthens his family’s ties to a powerful general and hopes his daughter will rise in your household. Still, he remains polite and respectful.

His wife is different. Madam Lin smiles sweetly as she serves you a choice piece of fish.

“Our Nien has always been such a bright and loving child.”

Her eyes flicker toward you.

“She brings such joy wherever she goes. We pray every day that she continues to bring that same joy… and perhaps even greater blessings… to your esteemed household.”

The hint is gentle but unmistakable. She doesn’t say the words “get her pregnant,” but the meaning is clear. They hope Nien will soon follow Xinyu’s example and give you another child…ideally a son.

You nod politely, murmuring thanks, but inside you feel the weight of the conversation. Eating with Nien’s parents is proving almost as exhausting as fighting pirates. Every smile, every carefully worded comment feels like navigating hidden reefs. As Madam Lin continues praising Nien’s sweetness, her gentle nature, and her “pure heart,” your mind drifts unavoidably to memories that make you feel strangely guilty. The warehouse a month ago. Nien bent over those crates, moaning filthily while you fucked her raw in broad daylight. The way she begged you to ruin her sweetness, to use her like a toy. The flowers scattered on the dirty floor.

And then the night just two days before your departure from Xiamen…You had gone to her chambers expecting another gentle, sweet night. At first it was exactly that - soft kisses, her bright laughter, her body warm and welcoming beneath you. But then, to your surprise, Nien had gently pushed you onto your back. For the first time ever, she climbed on top of you, straddled your hips, and slowly sank down onto your cock. She rode you with shy determination, her small hands on your chest, her hair falling around her face as she moved. Her moans had been softer than in the warehouse, but there was a new hunger in her eyes. She had whispered things she had never said before, asking if she was pleasing you, if you liked the way she took control for once. You can still picture the way her breasts bounced gently with each roll of her hips, the cute, concentrated expression on her face as she tried to ride you to completion.

Now, sitting here at her parents’ table while her mother praises that same “sweet, innocent” daughter, the contrast hits you hard. You feel almost like you’ve corrupted something pure. The cheerful, lovable Nien who chatters about games and flowers is the same girl who begged you to treat her like a dockside whore and then sweetly asked for your cum while riding you.

Madam Lin’s voice pulls you back.

“…and we are certain that with your guidance, our daughter will continue to grow and flourish in every way.”

You raise your cup in a polite toast, hiding your thoughts behind a calm expression.

The dinner continues. The food is excellent, but the conversation is a careful dance. Master Lin steers topics toward safer waters like local governance, the pirate situation,  and your recent victories. Madam Lin occasionally slips in another gentle hint about family, legacy, and the blessings of many children. You eat and respond with politeness, all while vivid memories of Nien, both the innocent and the surprisingly eager versions, linger at the edge of your mind.

Your ships slipped into Xiamen harbor just before midnight, the sails heavy with salt and victory. It took nearly two more hours to organize the docking, unloading wounded men, securing captured pirate banners and weapons, assigning guards, and sending preliminary reports to Admiral Shi Lang. By the time you finally mounted your horse and rode toward the estate, the moon was high and the streets of Xiamen were quiet.

As you approach the main gates, you notice something unusual. Despite the late hour, lanterns are lit along every path and courtyard. Warm golden light spills from windows and pavilions. The entire estate is awake. The moment the heavy gates swing open and you step into the main courtyard, you are greeted exactly as expected. Nearly the entire household has gathered. Servants line the sides holding lanterns. Your steward stands at the front with a deep bow. And in the center, waiting for you, are the four women who rule your inner world.

Xinyu stands slightly ahead of the others, her crimson robe flowing around her noticeably larger belly. Three months have transformed her. The gentle curve has become a full, rounded swell that she carries with quiet pride. Her hair is neatly pinned, and though fatigue shadows her eyes, she holds herself with the dignity of the principal wife. Behind her stand the three concubines in a neat row. Tzuyu on the left, elegant in pale blue silk, posture perfect as always. Shuhua in the middle, vibrant green robes hugging her figure, a small smirk already playing on her lips. Nien on the right, soft peach silk glowing in the lantern light, her bright smile lighting up her face the moment she sees you.

As one, they all bow deeply.

“Welcome home, General.”

Xinyu says first.

“Welcome home, my lord.”

The three concubines echo, their voices blending together.

You return the greeting with a nod.

“It is good to be back.”

You step closer to Xinyu, eyes dropping instinctively to her swollen belly. You reach out and gently touch her arm.

“Are you doing alright? You shouldn’t have stayed up so late or woken the entire household just to welcome me. You need rest, especially now.”

Xinyu meets your gaze. There is clear love in her eyes, soft and genuine, even beneath the exhaustion.

“It is my duty as your wife.”

She replies simply.

“And… I wanted to see you return safely.”

You nod, then turn to address everyone.

“Go back to sleep. All of you. The night is late and tomorrow will be busy enough.”

The servants and steward immediately begin to scatter with bows and quiet murmurs of:

“Yes, General.”

Xinyu starts to turn with you as you guide her gently toward her chambers, one hand resting lightly at the small of her back to support her. Before you’ve taken more than a few steps, Xinyu pauses and glances back at the retreating maids.

“Prepare some warm food for the General. Light congee, steamed buns, and tea. Bring it to my chambers.”

The maids bow and hurry off to obey.

The three concubines remain standing for a moment longer, watching as you lead Xinyu away. You can feel their eyes on your back. None of them speak, but the air is thick with unspoken anticipation. They know you have just returned after three long months. They know the nights ahead will be filled with competition once again.

You continue walking with Xinyu, the lanterns along the path lighting your way toward her pavilion. Her steps are slower now, weighted by the growing child inside her. She leans into your touch, the love in her eyes still visible even in the dim light.

You reach the entrance to Xinyu’s chambers. The heavy silk curtains sway gently in the night breeze. Xinyu looks up at you, one hand resting protectively over her rounded belly.

“Will you stay with me tonight, my lord?”

She asks softly, though she already knows the answer may not be simple. You look down at your salt stained robes and travel worn appearance, then gently shake your head.

“I do not dare enter your halls in this state. I smell of the sea and weeks of campaign. Let me bathe first. I promise I will return afterward.”

Xinyu studies you for a moment, then a small, teasing smile curves her lips.

“Very well, my lord. But do not take too long. A wife can only be patient for so long… especially when her husband has been away for three months.”

You give her a nod and a faint smile before turning toward the private bathing courtyard.

The bathing pool is one of the few luxuries you allow yourself. Set in a secluded corner of the inner garden, surrounded by high screens and flowering jasmine vines, it is fed by heated water carried in by servants. Lanterns hang from the wooden beams overhead, casting a warm, golden glow over the rippling surface.

You sink into the pool with a low sigh of relief. The water feels impossibly soft and clean compared to the harsh, salty waves you have lived in for months. Heat seeps into your tired muscles as you lean back against the smooth stone edge, closing your eyes for a moment. The night is quiet except for the gentle lap of water and the distant chirping of insects.

Then, from the corner of your eye, you catch a shadow moving near the edge of the lantern light. Your body reacts instantly. Your hand shoots out toward the knife you had placed beside your folded clothes on the low bench behind you.

Before your fingers can close around the hilt, the shadow steps fully into the light.

It is Tzuyu.

She stands at the edge of the pool, wearing a simple but elegant white inner robe that clings lightly to her figure. Her long hair is loosely tied, a few strands framing her face. She looks slightly more confident than usual. Shoulders straighter, chin lifted just a fraction higher. The change is subtle, but you notice it immediately.

You relax your hand and let it fall back into the water.

Tzuyu has always been quiet and reserved, but right now you cannot help wondering if she has schemed something while you were away. The letter from her parents three months ago still lingers in your memory. The polite but clear urging to get their daughter pregnant. If Tzuyu takes after them at all, she might be here with similar intentions. Yet, just like Xinyu, you can never quite tell with her. Is this quiet confidence a calculated move, or simply her natural grace?

She hesitates at the edge of the pool, fingers lightly twisting the sash of her robe. You watch her in silence, already expecting what is coming. Tzuyu finally meets your gaze.

“My lord… would you allow me the honor of your company?”

She takes one graceful step closer.

“After all, a man of your status should not have to wash himself alone.”

She stands there, waiting, the lantern light casting a gentle glow on her skin and making her eyes shine with quiet expectation. You lean back against the smooth stone edge of the pool, the warm water lapping gently at your chest.

“You don’t have to be so formal when we’re alone, Tzuyu.”

Tzuyu lowers her gaze for a moment, a faint blush touching her cheeks.

“I’m sorry, my lord.”

Then, after a small pause, she adds, almost shyly:

“Since we are alone… it should be fine if I join you in the water.”

You don’t answer right away. You simply watch her. Tzuyu takes your silence as invitation. She reaches for the sash of her white inner robe. With slow, teasing movements she unties it, letting the fabric part. Your breath catches as she begins to undress right there on the other side of the pool. The robe slides off her shoulders first, revealing the elegant line of her collarbones and the gentle swell of her breasts. She continues, letting the silk glide down her body like water, exposing the smooth curve of her waist, the flare of her hips, and the long, graceful length of her legs. Finally, the robe pools at her feet, leaving her completely naked.

You have never seen Tzuyu like this before. Fully bare, standing at a distance where you can take in every inch of her at once. In the dim lantern light of her chambers, it was always darker, closer, more intimate. Here, under the warm glow of the lanterns, she looks almost unreal: tall, slender, perfectly proportioned, with smooth pale skin and long black hair cascading down her back. Her breasts are full and firm, nipples already slightly hardened by the night air. Her waist is narrow, hips gently curved, and between her thighs you can see the delicate line of her pussy.

Tzuyu seems a little shy under your undivided stare. She shifts her weight slightly, one hand instinctively moving to cover herself before she catches the motion and lowers it again. But there’s also a quiet pleasure in her eyes, as if she enjoys the way you’re looking at her. She steps slowly into the pool. The water ripples around her ankles, then her calves, then her thighs as she wades toward you. When she finally stands directly in front of you, the water reaching just below her breasts, she hesitates for only a heartbeat. Then she leans in carefully, giving you time to pull away if you wish.

Her lips meet yours in a soft, tentative kiss. You respond naturally. Your hands rise from the water and find her naked body, roaming slowly over her wet skin, tracing the curve of her waist, sliding up to cup her breasts, thumbs brushing over her nipples. She trembles slightly under your touch.

When she finally draws away just enough to look at you, you are too relaxed after the long campaign to take charge. You simply watch her, hands still resting on her hips under the water. Tzuyu’s cheeks are faintly pink. She moves closer, carefully straddling your lap beneath the surface. You feel the heat of her body even through the warm water. Your now hard cock presses against her tight, flat tummy as she settles on top of you.

You let out a low chuckle.

“You said you’d wash me.”

Your voice is rough with amusement and growing desire.

“Not pleasure me.”

Tzuyu’s blush deepens, but she doesn’t look away.

“Can’t I do both?”

The warm water laps gently around your bodies. Lantern light flickers across her wet skin. She is beautiful, elegant, and clearly offering herself to you after three long months apart. You lean back against the edge of the pool, the warm water lapping at your shoulders, and give her a slow smile.

“I’m sure you can do both.”

Tzuyu’s lips curve into a gentle, pleased smile.

“Then I will try my best, my lord.”

Her hand slips beneath the water. You feel her slender fingers wrap around your hard cock, stroking you slowly from base to tip. The sensation is smooth and teasing in the warm water.

“I’ll start with this.”

You rest your arms along the stone edge and watch her. Tzuyu’s naked upper body is beautiful in the lantern light. The elegant curve of her shoulders, the full swell of her breasts with water droplets sliding down them, the graceful line of her neck…She keeps her eyes on you as she strokes, her touch growing a little firmer, a little more confident with every pass.

After a few moments, Tzuyu rises slightly on her knees. She positions herself over you, one hand still guiding your cock. Then she slowly lowers herself. You watch her face closely. Pleasure washes over her features the moment the head of your cock parts her folds. Her lips part in a soft gasp. Her brows furrow slightly as she sinks down. Her eyes flutter half-closed, and a quiet, trembling moan escapes her. It’s clear she has been just as eager for this as you have been for her. Three long months apart have left her hungry too.

You feel every inch as her tight, silky pussy lips glide down your length, enveloping you slowly, warmly and completely. She is wetter than the pool water, her inner walls clinging to you with familiar perfection.

Tzuyu is not like Shuhua. She prefers it slower, especially when she’s on top. She begins to move with graceful rolls of her hips, grinding down deeply, then lifting and bouncing in a smooth, controlled rhythm. Her hands rest on your chest for balance as she rides you, doing her best to make your head roll back with every motion.

For several long minutes she works you like this: slow, deep grinds mixed with gentle bounces, her breasts swaying softly with the movement. The water ripples around your joined bodies in steady waves. Tzuyu’s breathing grows heavier, her quiet moans filling the night air. Then she leans down, pressing her wet breasts against your chest. Her lips brush your ear.

“My lord…”

She breathes, still moving on you.

“I think… I am with child.”

The words hit you like a quiet thunderclap. She continues riding you slowly as she speaks, her voice trembling with both pleasure and nervousness.

“All the signs are there. The missed courses, the tenderness, the way my body feels different… but I haven’t told anyone yet. Not even the physician. I wanted you to know first.”

Tzuyu pulls back just enough to look into your eyes, still gently rolling her hips, your cock buried deep inside her. She searches your face, waiting for your reaction while her body keeps moving on you with that same graceful, needy rhythm.

The night is quiet as Nien stands just outside the kitchen courtyard, hands clasped in front of her peach-colored robe. She had been waiting patiently for several minutes when the two maids finally emerge, carrying a lacquered tray with warm congee, steamed buns, pickled vegetables, and a pot of fragrant tea. Exactly what Xinyu had ordered for you.

Nien steps forward with a bright, innocent smile.

“Let me take that to the General.”

She offers sweetly.

“He must be very tired after such a long journey. I would be happy to bring it to him.”

The maids exchange a quick glance, but they know better than to refuse one of the master’s concubines. They hand over the tray without argument.

“Thank you.”

Nien says cheerfully, balancing the tray carefully as she turns and heads toward the private bathing courtyard. She knows exactly where you are. The lanterns glowing softly in that direction are impossible to miss.

The garden paths are dimly lit, the night air cool and filled with the scent of jasmine. Nien walks quickly but gracefully, her mind already imagining the your tired smile when she arrives with food. She rounds a corner near the moon gate…

… and nearly collides with Shuhua.

Both women stop short. The tray wobbles dangerously in Nien’s hands. A few drops of tea splash over the edge. Shuhua startles, stepping back with a sharp intake of breath, her vibrant green robe swirling around her legs.

“Nien!”

Shuhua hisses.

“Shuhua!”

Nien replies, steadying the tray with both hands. Her usual bright tone carries a hint of surprise and wariness.

For a moment they simply stare at each other in the half dark. They don’t hate each other - there has never been open hostility between any of the three concubines - but Nien has always found Shuhua suspicious, and Shuhua clearly feels the same about the overly cheerful youngest.

Shuhua crosses her arms, one eyebrow raised.

“Going to the bathing courtyard? With food? How thoughtful of you.”

Nien tilts her head, still smiling but with a sharper edge.

“Xinyu asked me to bring it. The General needs to eat after his long journey. Why are you heading in that direction so late?”

Shuhua lets out a short, scoffing laugh.

“Don’t play innocent. You’re trying to get to him first.”

“And you aren’t?”

Nien shoots back, voice still light but now clearly defensive.

“You’ve been waiting for him to return just as much as I have. Don’t pretend you were just taking a midnight stroll.”

Shuhua steps closer.

“At least I’m honest about wanting his attention. You act all sweet and harmless, but we both know why you’re really bringing him food at this hour.”

Nien’s cheeks flush, but she doesn’t back down.

“And you act all bold and fiery, but you’re doing the exact same thing. We’re both trying to gain his favor tonight. There’s no point in denying it.”

A tense silence stretches between them. The tray remains steady in Nien’s hands, but the air crackles with mutual suspicion.

Finally, Shuhua lets out a sigh and rolls her eyes.

“Fine. We both want to see him. There’s no use fighting over it right now.”

Nien nods, her bright smile returning, though it’s a little tighter than usual.

“Exactly. So… shall we go together?”

Shuhua hesitates for half a second, then gives a small, reluctant nod.

“Together. But don’t think this means I’m sharing nicely.”

The two women fall into step side by side, heading toward the glowing lanterns of the bathing courtyard. Nien carefully balances the tray while Shuhua walks with her usual confident stride. The rivalry simmers just beneath the surface, but for now, they have reached an uneasy truce. As they approach the entrance to the private bathing area, both can see the warm light spilling out and hear the faint sound of water rippling.

Nien and Shuhua step quietly into the bathing courtyard together, the tray of food balanced carefully in Nien’s hands. They both stop dead in their tracks the moment they see what is happening in the pool. Tzuyu is in your lap, facing you, her long bare back and elegant shoulders glowing in the lantern light. Her hips move in slow, graceful rolls as she rides you. The water ripples gently around your joined bodies. From behind, they can see the elegant line of her spine, the way her muscles flex and shift with every movement, and the subtle bounce of her long black hair.

Tzuyu lets out a soft, needy moan.

“More… please, my lord…”

Shuhua’s expression instantly darkens. Her jaw tightens and her eyes flash with fury. She crosses her arms tightly over her chest, practically vibrating with irritation.

“Tzuyu is such a slut.”

She hisses under her breath, loud enough for Nien to hear. Nien bites her tongue hard to stop herself from snapping back that Shuhua is easily the biggest slut in the entire household. Instead, she feels a quiet wave of sadness wash over her. She isn’t really angry, just disappointed. She had hoped to have you to herself tonight, even if only for a little while. Now she will only get a third of your attention.

While Shuhua is still fuming, Nien sets the tray of food down on a nearby stone bench without a word. She doesn’t want to fall behind. Shuhua makes the decision first. Without saying anything else, she starts pulling off her robe, letting it drop carelessly to the ground. Her naked body is revealed in the lantern light: bold curves, smooth skin, and an unmistakable air of confidence. Nien quickly follows her example. She unties her peach robe and shrugs it off, stepping out of the silk puddle at her feet. Her own body is softer and more delicate than Shuhua’s, but no less beautiful.

Both women move toward the pool together. They step carefully into the warm water, the liquid rising around their legs, then their thighs, then their hips. The ripples they create spread outward, disturbing the calm surface.

Tzuyu is still riding you slowly when the sound of their movement reaches her. She doesn’t stop, but her head turns slightly, eyes widening as she notices the two new arrivals. Shuhua and Nien wade closer until they are only a few steps away from where Tzuyu sits impaled on your cock. The air in the bathing courtyard grows thick with tension, jealousy, and unspoken competition. Tzuyu’s hips continue their gentle, graceful motion as she looks at the other two women, a faint blush on her cheeks. Shuhua stops with her hands on her hips, water lapping at her waist, and stares directly at you with a challenging glint in her eyes. Nien stands beside her, quieter, her expression a mix of envy and shy hope as she watches Tzuyu’s flawless back and the way her body moves on you.

You notice the movement at the edge of the pool and lift your gaze. Nien and Shuhua stand there, both completely naked, the warm lantern light dancing across their wet skin. Shuhua’s body is bold and curvaceous, perky breasts and strong hips cutting through the surface. Nien’s figure is softer, more delicate, her skin glowing with that same innocent charm she always carries.

The moment you see them, your cock twitches hard inside Tzuyu. Tzuyu feels it immediately. Her walls flutter around you in response, and she lets out a tiny, surprised gasp, her hips stuttering for a second before she continues her slow ride.

You can’t help it. An amused chuckle escapes your throat.

Tzuyu’s cheeks flush deeper as she realizes the other two are watching her ride you so openly. Shuhua’s usual confident smirk falters for half a heartbeat, replaced by a flicker of awkwardness. Nien’s bright eyes widen, her hands instinctively moving to cover her chest before she catches herself and lowers them again. They’ve never seen each other fully naked like this. The usual private intimacy of the bedchambers has suddenly become very public. None of them quite know how to act now that they are all together in the same pool. You feel a brief moment of uncertainty yourself. Three naked, beautiful concubines surrounding you after three long months away is almost overwhelming.

You motion with your head.

“Shuhua. Left side.”

You turn slightly and gesture to the other side.

“Nien. Right.”

Shuhua moves first, wading through the water with that bold stride until she’s pressed against your left side. Nien follows more shyly, slipping into the water on your right until her soft body brushes against you. The moment they settle, Tzuyu - clearly not willing to lose her place on your cock - starts putting in more effort. Her hips roll deeper, grinding down harder, her tight pussy squeezing around you with renewed determination. Her breathing grows heavier as she rides you more purposefully. You reach out with your left hand and grope Shuhua’s perky tits, squeezing the firm flesh and rolling her nipple between your fingers. Shuhua lets out a sharp, pleased breath and arches into your touch. At the same time, you pull Nien closer with your right arm, tilting her chin up so you can claim her mouth in a deep, hungry kiss. She melts into it instantly, her soft lips parting for you, a tiny whimper vibrating against your tongue. While you kiss Nien and fondle Shuhua, Tzuyu continues riding you steadily, her long legs flexing under the water as she works herself on your cock.

In the back of your mind, the news Tzuyu whispered earlier still burns. The possibility that she is already carrying your child. The thought sends another throb through your length, making Tzuyu moan softly.

You hope Xinyu doesn’t mind you indulging a little tonight. After three months away, and with her own belly growing heavier by the day, she might even understand. For now, you focus on the three women surrounding you. Shuhua presses her breasts more firmly into your groping hand, her usual bratty energy already starting to surface again. Nien kisses you back sweetly, her smaller hand resting shyly on your chest. Tzuyu keeps riding you with quiet determination, clearly trying to remind everyone that she was here first.

The warm water laps around all four of you as the night air grows thicker with tension and desire.

The morning sun beats down on the training ground, turning the dirt courtyard into a haze of dust and heat. You move through the forms, wooden practice sword clashing against your partner’s in sharp, rhythmic strikes. Sweat runs down your bare chest and back, soaking the waistband of your trousers. Your breathing is heavy, muscles burning after weeks of pushing yourself hard since returning from the campaign. You parry a strong overhead blow, then counter with a low sweep that forces your opponent to jump back. The soldiers watching from the sidelines murmur in approval.

Just as you reset your stance for another exchange, you catch sight of a servant hurrying across the edge of the training ground. The man is moving quickly, his face tense. You raise your hand and step back, lowering your sword.

“Enough for now.”

You tell your practice partner, who bows and retreats. You wipe sweat from your brow with the back of your arm and motion the servant closer. He approaches, bowing deeply the moment he’s within speaking distance.

“General, Lady Xinyu… she has gone into labour.”

You straighten immediately, chest still heaving from the exertion. Sweat continues to trickle down your temples, but the fatigue in your muscles is forgotten in an instant.

“When?”

“Just now, my lord. The midwife and her maids are with her. Lady Xinyu asked that you be informed right away.”

You nod once, already turning toward the inner quarters.

“Prepare hot water and clean cloths if they haven’t already.”

You order as you start walking.

“And send word to the physician if he isn’t there yet.”

The servant bows again and hurries off to carry out your commands.

You stride across the courtyard, practice sword still in hand, sweat cooling on your skin in the morning breeze. The training ground and your soldiers fade behind you as your focus narrows entirely to Xinyu’s pavilion. Your mind races with a mix of anticipation and concern. Xinyu’s belly had grown significantly. The child - the one she has been so certain is a son - is finally coming.

As you pass through the moon gate into the women’s quarters, you can already hear faint activity ahead: maids moving quickly, low voices, and the occasional strained sound that might be Xinyu.

The three concubines are nowhere in sight yet, but you know they will learn of this soon enough. The news will spread through the household like wildfire.

You reach the entrance to Xinyu’s chambers. The heavy silk curtains have been pulled back, and several maids hover nervously just outside.

One of them bows deeply when she sees you.

“General… Lady Xinyu is in her bed. The pains have started strongly. The midwife says it is progressing well, but it may take some time.”

You hand your practice sword to the nearest servant without a word and step inside.

The room is warm, scented with medicinal herbs and incense meant to ease the birth. Xinyu lies propped up on the large bed, her face flushed and damp with sweat. Her crimson robe is loosened and pushed up, her swollen belly clearly visible and tight with another contraction. She grips the sheets tightly, breathing through the pain with determined focus.

When she sees you enter, her eyes soften despite the discomfort.

“My lord…You came quickly.”

You move to her side, taking her hand in yours. Her fingers are surprisingly strong as they squeeze yours during the next wave of pain. The midwife, an experienced older woman, kneels nearby, quietly giving instructions to the assisting maids.

Xinyu looks up at you, her free hand resting protectively on her belly.

“It is time. Our child is coming.”

Outside the chamber, you can already hear hurried footsteps, the news spreading fast through the estate. The three concubines will likely arrive soon, drawn by the commotion and the weight of what this birth could mean for all of them.

You have covered multiple events across the country with that camera of yours. Only a few hours after taking photos at a friends party while sitting in your apartment you got a message on Insta. You never checked your inbox there. Most of the time it was a bot or someone trying to 'collaborate' with you meaning a new account without a proper icon or bio as such. With the curiosity at its peak you decided to tap the inbox icon which held a single number one. Upon seeing the sender it was an account with around 2k followers. After checking their profile, they mainly took pictures of fruits and even vegetables. A fellow photographer it seems for now. The name? ‘weirdgurlluvr’. Odd. You took a bewildered sip of your water as you took a deep breath. The anticipation gripped you firm around your chest. With only one message, one possibility. You read it to yourself at first.

"Good evening! A friend of mine was wondering if you could meet up with her and take some photos. She really liked the ones you. Her number is below. She is willing to discuss pricing since you are good at what you do. Give her a shout, she is eager to hear from you<3"

"Is this...real? There is no way." You questioned it out loud. You were beyond skeptical at this point but you replied to the message with a simple thank you along with a smiley emoji. After that you copy pasted the number to your messages tab and send a quick text to this individual in question. The conversation was pleasant and there were even memes sent between the two of you. Hours had flown by unnoticed by your eyes yet felt by your fingers at every double tap on a message she sent combined with the consistent replies. She even wanted you to address her as 'Choo'. Yes, like a train.  At the end of your conversation for the night she sends you a place to meet tomorrow afternoon. The cafe is not far away from the photography studio you have rented out quite a few times. You agreed to the meeting with a reply and for that message a heart emoji is sent after the message was seen. "I guess tomorrow will be a chance to get paid. I better tell Tony about this. Gotta cancel going to the Club with him." The next day started off the same way it always does albeit a lot later than usual: Waking up to the sound of that dreaded iPhone alarm at 10:34 a.m. and dragging yourself into the shower to freshen up. For today you decided to take a rest day from the gym since yesterday was leg day. Though you may soon wish you did do arms today. Slipping into your white sneakers complimented by black jeans and a blank black t-shirt you gave a quick glance into the mirror. This was an opportunity to gain a personal client. You had quite a few of these private meetings before but this one felt different than the others? Different how? You were not quite sure. As you gathered your wallet along with your keys a phone call came through. It was Tony, your best friend. You answered with an upbeat tone. "Tony. I was just about to call you."

"Hey, Yoel. I will save you the trouble. You're meeting that girl today, yeah? What does she want?" You take a quizzical sigh and raise a hand. "All I know is she wants to talk about a session? Maybe. Someone sent me a message and gave me her number. She seems…funny. Goofy even." You spoke with optimism in your tone as Tony took a heavy chuckle. "Just make sure you keep it in your pants. Last one would not leave you alone after you fucked, remember? She would do anything to keep you around." You heave a heavy sigh before replying. "It will not go that way. This will be different. Choo is not crazy like Rebecca was. I also don’t plan on screwing her…" Tony let out a chuckle of doubt, "Nope. I have a feeling Choo is going to run you like a dog. You might even like it." You hang up the phone with a chuckle. There was not a woman in the world that could just 'run you like a dog'. You were the one who called the shots, right?

You think so, but you weren't sure at that moment, were you?

A quick little drive in town with a radio talk show flowing through the speakers talking about the upcoming season of summer. You knew what that meant. Bikini and bra photoshoots could happen, or even just some photos of friends at the beach. Summer was the best time of year for sessions to be in full swing. Either way you saw it you could imagine what could come with it as a possibility. The cafe was soon a few steps away which makes you park a few blocks away. After turning off the car you make your way inside of the cafe. The atmosphere felt fresh, and most of all welcoming. While you waited in line a text came through from Choo. You checked your phone briefly for the notification and read it to yourself.

“I’m at the studio now. Waiting on you. <3”

Your heart jumped. She was already at the studio? All the notification did was make your heart race just a little more. After finally making your way to the top of the line you ordered just a black coffee without cream nor sugar. At this point you didn’t even need the extra boost of energy.

After a brisk walk to the studio you reached into your pocket and used the keycard against the scanner which was adjacent to the handles. After pulling where you really should have pushed, twice, you enter into the studio main lobby. You speak with the attendant at the front desk who knows you by name. A nice guy with a clean cut style of hair. “Good to see you. I think your subject is in Room 2. She brought some company with her. Do you know who she is?” “I know she requested a shoot with me, Jared. I would say that is all I know. I have to find out for myself.”  Before Jared could warn you, you gave a nod as you made your way into Room 2 and slowly knocked against the door in courtesy. You open it and are greeted by two men in suits, a blazer to match. One of them would stand before you and extend a hand at you and literally frisks you for weapons. He never reached around your groin, thank god. You did not protest. After he steps aside you could finally see what the fuss was about. “What? Am I taking pictures of the President?”

“No. You’re taking photos of her.” The man replied with an open hand gesture to the left side of the room. Of course now you were just confused. Who the hell could this possibly be? You peer around the security detail and in a rolling chair sat her. Chou Tzuyu. Her frame flawless, skin smooth as silk. A green jacket that slipped down her left shoulder with a pair of black shorts that ever so delicately hugged her thighs with legs crossed over one another. Her nails tap against that wooden table rhythmically as her eyes peered over you; head to toe without even blinking. The security detail would step out of the room as Tzuyu stood up slowly and walked to the area where the cameras were set up. “Um…do you know English? I know most idols choose to speak their native language.” “I speak English, and I practice a lot.” Tzuyu mused with a light shrug. Her fingers graze the tripod with grace and her eyes look up and down at your form. She could easily see you were in shock and awe. “I know what you’re thinking. Taking a chance on a random guy. However,I have been doing this for a while. I even got my own keycard to enter the studio whenever I am able to during open hours. I would say I-” “You only take pictures of women, too. Really, most of your posts are women. It makes me curious about you.”

Tzuyu softly hums and has a quick gasp as she points an accusatory finger towards your chest. A smirk followed while you shifted in your standing position to your heels, moving towards the table where an assortment of refreshments sat. Fruits, water, and wine? Why was that there? “My friend told me something about you. She said you like sleeping with your clients. Is that true?” Of course you stammered in a meek way while waving your hand by your own face. “I-I do not do that. Jesus! I have standards you know. I would not just sleep with-” “So you wouldn’t sleep with me, then?” She mused. “You cannot be serious…” You mutter to yourself as you were just about to fix the tripod. Your jaw could have just touched the floor while the idol simply tilted her head and tapped a finger against her own soft cheek as if she said ‘Gotcha!’. “You can leave us alone here. We will be taking some photos. He is safe to be around me so no threat here.” The security guards would take their leave and go out of the door. Leaving the two of you alone. Oh god what a mistake that could be. Tzuyu takes her seat at the designated chair, of which the camera was facing. Despite the literal bump you carried between your legs it didn’t inhibit your ability to walk. Thinking you hid it well enough.

“So, Tzuyu. Are there any poses you were wanting to do? Like…hands on your lap? Maybe just lean against the chair?” “I am thinking of one like this.” Tzuyu abandons the chair and sits on her knees lazily with her hands in her lap. Why of all positions was it this one? Your eyes were drawn to the scene before you and all you could do was look. The way your lips pressed together and you waved a hand just told her what she was wanting to get out of you. “That…works. I will need to fix the camera and then we can take a few to start.” Of course you adjust the camera to capture her in the complete center adjusting the zoom level so it was her upper half. “Alright. Give me a smile.” She would smile brightly at the camera and you went with the flow. A snap here followed by another. After taking the third one you would come around the tripod to adjust the angle just slightly. Your focus was solely there on the camera itself that you didn’t keep track of your subject. A hand then touches your stomach, and a soft voice follows. “Why is your dick so hard?” Tzuyu teases as her nails graze your skin downwards moving towards your belt. You swallowed a lump. “Miss Chou…I think we should focus on the pictures.” Tzuyu giggled and shook her head as her hand was now hovering your erection. “Because I sat down like that? You’re such a pervert. Just stay with it for now, and I just might…” Her words trailed off into a whisper that your ears fluttered to like a melody from her sweet lips. “You might what?” You manage to say with your full voice, low enough so she hears you. Only her reply was simply unzipping your jeans. You protest but your jeans soon are put down around your ankles. Boxers exposed along with the erection you had under them.

You were slightly embarrassed wanting to reach down and pull them up but her smile convinced you otherwise. “Take the pictures and I will do the rest.” A smooth hour goes by of candid photos being taken with some cute, some cunty, and some just goofy. Tzuyu was enjoying herself with you and vice versa for yourself. Especially your cock which hasn’t gotten soft in a while. It was still hard, leaking precum but it was not visible. Your jeans on fully despite her pulling them down. Tzuyu stands up after you take the final photo of her holding a cherry lollipop by her lips. She takes a gentle lick of the treat while making direct eye contact with you. “That is all for today.” She states with a turn of her head to the clock. “I have like another hour in here. I would need to edit these up to your liking. Plus you would have to let me know which ones you want for your-” “I meant for the photos, Yoel.” Tzuyu puts the lollipop between her lips and gently cups the erection you had beneath the fabric with her left hand. You didn’t freeze in place when it happened. You simply sigh softly and touch the side of her face. “You caused that. Just so you know.” 

“I know. Are you gonna do something about it? Or are you just gonna let me run you like a dog? Isn’t that what Tony said?” You froze. How did she know Tony? If that is the case then she knew about Rebecca too. With a chuckle she unzips your jeans. “Looks like you’re my dog for a while.” “I am not a toy. Let go of my-...” You mumbled again but just before she took a handful of your cock and rubbed it against her smooth fingers. You sigh softly and watch on as she puts her lollipop between her lips again. Humming softly. “Who knew my pictures would make you this horny? Strawberry was right, you are a pervert.” Tzuyu pulls down your boxers and now touches the real thing. Precum beaded at the tip like water and all it made her do was smile at you. “Good boy.” Your eyes bucked at the words and you shake your head. “You did not just call me that.” You said in a bit of disgust given no girl had ever called you that before. Tzuyu shrugged at you and tossed her lollipop in the trash bin a few steps away. “You’re the one with your cock in *my* hand. Plus this is your reward. Do you not want it?” She tips her head at you quizzically. You were not the guy to turn down a blowjob. “I want it, believe me. Just don’t expect me to call you ‘mommy’ or ‘mistress’. We both want the same thing and honestly…I am not against it. You won’t tell anyone about this, right?”

“Only Strawberry. She is the one that introduced me to you.” You rolled your eyes. “Who the fuck is that supposed to be?” Tzuyu would sit on the chair and place her lips around the tip of your cock. Your words fell apart and all you felt was her lips wrapped around you, sucking slowly. Her head moves side to side, lips parting to allow the air to brush against your tip. You softly moan and put a hand on her chin. Her head then moves down and comes back up, only taking half of your shaft into her mouth. Her tongue presses against your length as her head comes back up, eyes looking up at you. An audible pop as she releases your cock. “She won’t tell a soul about this. Trust me on that.” Tzuyu smiled up at you and you just grabbed her head gently and pushed her back onto your cock. She gasps softly and goes back to sucking as she was. “Yeah…I trust her.” You admit with a low tone while her head was now moving slightly faster with her mouth leaving a trail of her saliva on your girth. She moans softly with both hands on your abs. “Don’t move, please.” Tzuyu asks politely as she pushes her mouth further down. Your cock now balls deep inside of her mouth, and her eyes looking up at you. You groan feeling the warmth of her throat. Her left hand reaches up and places your hand against the top of her head. An audible sound of approval as she holds herself against your abs again. You buck your hips slowly and sigh in a euphoric way. Her throat was open and she was relaxed from where she sat. Your eyes closed and she slaps your abs suddenly. You jolt and look down at her with a confused look but then move your hips quicker. As retaliation without knowing that was what she wanted. With her lips wrapped around your firmly you fuck her mouth which causes her to suck even harder. You curse under your breath watching her head move back and forth against your movements.

The music in the room thankfully drowned out whatever noises that came from the Taiwanese idol’s lips, and any sigh or groan you made. Just being balls deep in her mouth and she sucks as hard as she can. With a few more moments of her mouth sucking you up you groaned again, now holding your mouth. She was sucking so good you wondered if you could hold back anymore. You felt the heat in your chest, the pressure builds in your balls as you felt her tongue slide eagerly against your shaft. You close your eyes and feel your climax coming but then she stops. Tzuyu makes a twisting motion with her hand wrapped around your cock and pulls her lips away. She strokes it, standing up to look at you with her hand full of your girth. “Not on the face. I don’t have anything to clean it off from here. I promise next time you can cum on me. Maybe in me? You have to earn that.” You chuckled. “I earned this blowjob but can’t give you a facial? Come on.” Tzuyu rolled her eyes at your reply and kissed your cheek then bit her bottom lip. “Just cum so we can leave, of course. I have a fan signing in 15 minutes.” You roll your eyes, “Shouldn’t have done this then. I could make you late for that signing.” You cup her chin and she kisses your fingers. “Fine. Cum in my mouth.” She sits back down and keeps stroking your shaft at a fast pace, twisting along smoothly. She opens her mouth and goes back to sucking. Her lips wrap around the tip and your cock is engulfed in her mouth. She moans louder despite having her mouth full and looks up at you with her beautiful brown eyes, egging you on. Her hands go behind her back and she twists her head to the side. Letting your cock slip out and lay against her cheek. She sighs. “Better make this count.”

“I plan on it.” You said with a smile as you push your shaft into her mouth and go back to fucking her throat. Her moans make your shaft vibrate which in turn makes you want to go faster. So you do just that. Her eyes widened and she audibly slurped her own saliva without moving her head. Part of you was glad she didn’t have a gag reflex. It could have gotten messy but you didn’t mind that. With an audible groan you put your hand on her head and hold her still. “I’m cumming. Shit…” You muttered to her just before your warm semen flowed into her pretty mouth, making her smile and move her head up and down despite you cumming. Her hands grab your hips as she just keeps sucking on you. Moaning, slurping, just a whole euphoric library of what a blowjob sounds like. You try pulling away but she keeps going. Her hands are pulling you back, not letting you back out. “Tzuyu. I came, why are you…fuck..” You try to protest but she doesn’t stop. Her lips tug and pull against your cock and her hand slaps your abs again. She removes her lips and an audible pop is heard. No cum in sight and with her mouth open for you to see, she swallowed all of it. Your legs were like jelly once she let go of your cock. Finally, you could breathe.

Tzuyu stood up and went to the mirror close by, checking herself for any spills. She wipes her lips gently with her thumb. “There. Does that cover the fee for the extra time?” You would shrug at her. “I would say it does for today..” You were still trying to catch your breath as you pulled up your boxers, sitting in the chair she sat in earlier to suck you dry. “I still have to ask for $90. It is the general fee for the session.” You try to go back to normal after what happened, jeans now being pulled up. Tzuyu makes her way over and helps you do so. “$90? That is low. Let’s negotiate the price. You deserve more than that. You took some good photos and you have a nice cock too. I will send you the money once I get settled in later.” With that out of the way you stand up and offer a hand to Tzuyu. “I want to say thank you for the opportunity to get to know you and your personality.” You stared down at her thighs while saying that, shamelessly. She chuckled and kissed your cheek gently, dismissing the handshake. “We’re past the handshake. I will text you later regarding the money. I have to get going.” With a quick reach onto the table of refreshments she grabbed another small lollipop and tore the paper off gently. Placing it between her lips and sucking on it gently. Taking it out to say, “Plus you’re my favorite flavor now.” “Your what?” You ask utterly bewildered as Tzuyu turns and walks to the door of which you could only watch her walk away. But damn, you love watching her leave now. The door opened and she spoke in fluent Taiwanese to her security detail who instantly moved on their toes. She was escorted out with haste and now you were alone to go over the photos you had taken.

A few of them were simply just photos but there were three that you didn’t remember taking. As a matter of fact you didn’t take them. There was a period during the shoot where you had to grab a drink, and use the bathroom. Tzuyu didn’t waste any time. The first was her holding her lollipop on her tongue with one hand. The other sitting on her exposed shoulder. The second was of her zipping down her jacket, revealing her tanktop. The third one? Have mercy.The last photo that was taken was of her holding the camera in her hand as she faced the mirror with her jacket and crop top off. Her black lace bra shows with an arm under her breasts. Your eyes were immediately drawn to her body and how her skin shined in the light. You could even see something in between her fingers. Your eyes widened and you zoomed in on the image. “Is…that a condom? There is no way. She went to the table when she left. Maybe she left it?” You walk across the room where the refreshments sat neatly and next to the water bottles was a gold and black condom pack. Your hunch was correct. Something was even drawn on the back of it in black sharpie. A little heart. You softly exhale and stuff the condom into your pocket, feeling a myriad of emotions. Confusion, excitement, and most of all eagerness to see her again. When you call Tony, he would not believe any of this. Then you said this thinking out loud, “She knew Tony. She knew about Rebecca because of Strawberry. Whoever that is. I think I better not say anything about this, at least for now. I gotta get going, there’s a party of 3 coming and I need to get the camera off of this tripod and the photos onto my flash drive. I don’t want someone seeing Tzuyu half naked or this condom.” You sigh and remove the camera from the tripod and take it to the laptop across the room and get to work. Being reminded, no matter where you looked, of the Taiwanese idol that sucked you dry during a photo shoot. Who would have thought it possible?

While standing there at the laptop you plug in the USB drive and begin to start the process of extracting the photos off the camera and to the drive itself. As it was doing that you sent Tzuyu a text to let her know you had gotten her little gift. “I got your little gift. You telling me I can get some? ;)?” “You gotta earn it, pretty boy. I won't give it up easily.” Your lips form a smile and you shrug your shoulders at the rather teasing reply she gave you. A moment of tapping the back of your phone case with your index finger. The curiosity was beaming in your chest. Part of you was happy she was so open with her flirting but the other part was shaking. She could turn this into quite the lawsuit if things went south but in the back of your mind you know that outcome would not come to be. Worst thing is she would cut you off and never speak to you again. You would not be able to see her again, talk to her, get your dick sucked. The usual. With a hand pulling the thumb drive from its dedicated slot you reply with your free hand. “How about a hint as to how I can get the prize?” As you waited for a reply from Tzuyu, Jared would peek his head inside of the room via the door that Tzuyu walked out of. “Yoel? I have my party of 4 here to use the studio. I will need you to wrap up shortly. You know the rest.” You nod simply and give a thumbs up. You knew the drill. Reset the cameras, ensure the photos you take are on your drive and off the film gallery. In the middle of remembering the routine, Tzuyu replied to your message. “I don’t think you earned a hint, tbh. Maybe after tomorrow night you will. I am heading to the gym. No, I am not sending you pictures. Pervert. I will text you where we can meet tomorrow.”

You sigh at the disappointing outcome. She should have just blue balled you earlier at that point. Typing your reply while realizing you had no sort of rebuttal a sigh passes your lips. “You are just no fun. You suck my dick during a photoshoot and I am a pervert? Choo…that is so based. But…if you insist I won’t argue. I will see you tomorrow. Anything I need to have besides the photos you want?” You take your exit from the room and head directly to the front desk to sign out on the guest list. You greet a group of girls that were waiting by the desk, and one of them made eye contact with you. She waves to you with a bright smile and you nod back after signing your name. The girl would maintain eye contact with you, then asks you something. “You’re a photographer, right? You did stuff with Angelo, a good friend of mine. He says you do good work. How much would it be for a session like a birthday shoot? I have a birthday coming next week.” Your smile comes back again and you reach into your wallet and take out your calling card. Just your name and phone number along with a nice background of a beach where you snapped a sunset. “Just give me a ring. I have to get going. Your name was?” “Daniela. My friends call me Dani. It was nice meeting you, Yoel.” With a light wave and a hand pushing the door open you finally make your way back outside. You take a deep breath while heading up the sidewalk towards your car. It would not be long before you had finally got into your car and closed the driver side door. The day was still young and you could kill some time with a quick trip to the store to grab some more apples. You said you would grab them yesterday but alas, here we are. Your phone buzzed as the sun in the sky was beaming against the window. It was an attachment from Tzuyu. Without any second thought you unlock your phone to the conversation and you feel your heart skip a beat. You exhaled.

You fidget, rubbing the back of your neck. “I… got distracted. Club ran long.”

Her eyes flick down to your bag. No plastic handles sticking out, no clinking bottles or leafy greens peeking. She leans her weight to one hip and folds her arms slowly, like she’s savoring the drama of the moment.

“Distracted,” she repeats. “Again.”

“It’s just the second time—”

“The second time this week,” she cuts in, and now you’re pretty sure she’s not even mad about the food. There’s something else threading underneath, something prickly and a little tired.

You drop your bag by the couch and step closer, sheepish. “I know, I know. I really meant to, I just—club stuff’s been a lot. We’re organizing that charity auction and planning the art zine printing and—”

“You’re in a crafts club, not national defense,” she mutters, turning toward the kitchen, but slower than usual, like she’s waiting for you to say something worth staying for.

“It’s called ‘Hands On’,” you remind her, trailing after. “And it’s pretty fun, actually. We’re doing embroidery on vintage denim this week.”

That earns a glance, just a flash over her shoulder, one brow twitching. “So now you’re too busy learning how to sew flowers onto someone’s ass to remember your basic responsibilities?”

You shift on your feet. “You make it sound so much lamer than it is.”

“I didn’t have to try.”

You watch her pull out the rice cooker, expression smoothing into that blank practiced calm she wears when she’s trying not to let irritation sound like concern. The rice cooker clicks, and it suddenly feels very loud in the silence you left hanging.

“I’ll make it up to you,” you say quickly, guilt tightening your throat. “Let me cook this weekend.”

She pauses, dead silent. Then slowly turns, both arms now crossed tighter, chin tilted.

“You.”

“Me.”

“You want to cook.”

“For us, yeah.”

“You nearly set the toaster on fire trying to make Pop-Tarts.”

“That was one time. And I was sleepy.”

“You boiled water in a frying pan.”

“I couldn’t find the kettle!”

“It was next to the stove.”

You press your palms together like you’re about to pray. “C’mon. Let me try. I’ll find recipes online. I’ll watch a tutorial or something. I’ll even write down a shopping list this time.”

Her eyes narrow. “You're gonna write down one egg, one cup rice, plus one extinguisher?”

You groan and sag onto the counter dramatically, forehead thunking against the cool laminate. “Have some faith in me, Sohyun.”

“I do, that’s why I don’t want to die.”

You lift your head and grin at her, and she falters. There’s a twitch at the edge of her mouth like she’s fighting it, but her arms are still crossed and her eyes are still doing that sharp thing they do when she’s trying to seem unimpressed. She fails. She always fails.

“You’ve got that face on again,” you say.

“What face.”

“The grumpy ‘my idiot roommate is testing my will to live’ face. I don’t like that face. Gimme a better one.”

She turns away a little, her hip brushing the counter, but you catch the way her lips almost curve. You lean in slightly.

“C’mon, just a little one. Gimme a smile. I’ll even do the grocery run tomorrow and the day after.”

“That’s your responsibility anyway,” she mumbles, but softer.

“Yeah, but I’ll do it extra good. Promise. Just smile.”

She tries to keep her mouth straight, but it’s not fair, because you’re looking at her like a puppy that dropped its leash and still thinks it deserves a treat. And you know what you’re doing; weaponizing that whole innocent soft-boy thing, but it works. She finally lets one side of her mouth curl up, barely, like a crack of sunlight through clouds.

“There,” you say, triumphant, and point like it’s proof. “That’s the one. See? You look way less murdery when you do that.”

“Shut up,” she says, but she doesn’t move away when you lean against the counter beside her. Her shoulder is warm against yours, and she doesn’t pull away. You can feel her relaxing, even if she keeps up the grumble.

“Seriously though,” you say. “Thanks for cooking all the time. I know I suck at adulting. I’ll get better.”

“Yeah, well. Someone has to keep your malnourished ass alive.”

You laugh, and she pretends like that wasn’t a compliment buried in salt. The silence after isn’t tense anymore. It’s familiar. She leans over to rinse some rice, and you stay close, watching the way her fingers move, the easy rhythm of someone who knows what they’re doing. It’s kind of hypnotic. You catch yourself staring a little too long and glance away, ears warm.

“You know,” you say, just to fill the quiet, “Xinyu said she wants to teach me how to make handmade dumplings. Apparently she’s some kind of food goddess outside of club stuff.”

You don’t notice how still Sohyun goes. How her shoulders tighten just slightly. You’re busy thinking about how Xinyu had smiled at you when she said it, the way she tilted her head and asked if your hands were good with dough. Like she was measuring your answer with something hungrier than curiosity.

You don’t notice the way Sohyun’s grip on the strainer shifts. Or the small exhale she lets out, short and flat. But you do catch the quiet that follows your sentence. Heavy again. And not the good kind.

You glance over. “What?”

“Nothing,” she says, too fast. “Sounds like she’s keeping you real busy lately.”

“I guess? I mean, she’s just super involved in everything. She’s got all these ideas. And people really listen to her. It’s kinda cool.”

She hums, then dumps the rice into the cooker with a clatter that sounds more aggressive than necessary.

“Cool,” she repeats under her breath, but you don’t catch the tone.

You yawn and stretch your arms above your head. “Anyway. I’m gonna shower before dinner. Thanks for not killing me.”

“No promises,” she mutters.

As you disappear down the hall, you don’t see the look she gives the kitchen doorway. Not angry. Not exactly sad, either. Just a look like someone watching a window slowly shut on something they hadn’t even realized they were leaning out of. The rice cooker beeps behind her, forgotten. Her reflection stares back at her in the microwave door, and she doesn’t like what she sees there.

—

The air outside the lecture hall is too crisp for how warm your neck feels under the collar of your hoodie. Your econ professor dragged out the last five minutes of class with a winding tangent about inflation and donuts, and your brain’s still foggy from trying to stay awake. The hallway hums with the usual end-of-class shuffle—backpacks zipping, shoes squeaking on linoleum, someone laughing too loudly down the hall, the flick of water bottles being opened like a chorus of bored seals. You dig your phone out of your pocket, thumb tapping out a quick message to Sohyun to let her know you might head home soon—and then you hear your name.

Not called. Sung.

“Heeeey!”

You don’t even get the full chance to turn around before something soft and perfume-sweet hooks around your elbow and starts pulling. It’s instinct, at this point. You don’t even resist. You know that voice, and sure enough, there she is: Xinyu. In a velvet jacket the color of overripe cherries, hair twisted in a high braid that bounces with every movement, eyes bright with some new scheme. She's wearing high heels, which emphasizes her height (1.74cm, and she doesn't even need the heels to be taller than you).

“You have legs. You’re walking. Perfect. C’mon,” she says, already dragging you past two people in the hall who double-take like they’re seeing something illegal.

“Uh—hi? What—what’s going on?” You try to plant your feet but she’s stronger than she looks. “I actually need to get home kinda early—”

“It’ll be quick,” she chirps, which you immediately recognize as a lie, the same way Sohyun always does when you tell her you’ll “just check something real fast.” Xinyu gives you a sideways glance, all long lashes and a grin that should be registered as a performance-enhancing drug. “We’ve got a situation and you, my sweet dumb boy, are just the man to solve it.”

“I never agreed to—wait, what situation?”

“You’ll see,” she hums.

That’s how it always starts.

She marches you through campus like she’s late to a parade, and you end up outside the “Hands On” club room (formerly the Sad Little Arts Supply Closet), now upgraded with banners, fairy lights, a suggestion box shaped like a gumball machine, and one extremely passive-aggressive cactus on the windowsill that someone (probably Xinyu) glued googly eyes onto. The room smells like fabric glue and lavender cleaning spray. You can already tell something’s going on. Half the tables have fabric swatches and scissors laid out, while the other half are in chaos—cardboard boxes, paper stacks, craft knives, sticky notes everywhere like a crime scene made by a kindergarten teacher.

Xinyu kicks the door shut with her heel, and immediately spins to face you, hands clasped dramatically.

“Emergency,” she declares. “Our treasurer—bless his little heart—forgot to print half the zine inserts for tomorrow’s showcase. And he left town to visit his boyfriend and won’t be back until Monday.”

You blink. “Okay. And that involves me… how?”

She gives you a look, then grabs a stack of prints and holds them out with both hands, like she’s offering an ancient tome. “We need to trim the inserts, fold them, and pair them with the right zine covers tonight. I would do it myself, but I’m already running final checklists, and I need someone with…” She pauses, eyes dragging slowly down you in a way that makes your spine twitch. “…delicate hands.”

You’re not even sure what that means, but it works embarrassingly well. You shift your weight awkwardly, try not to smile, fail.

“I’ve got readings to do, though,” you mumble, still reaching for the stack anyway.

She leans in, nose almost bumping yours. “Just thirty minutes.”

You know it’s going to be at least two hours. But you’re already sitting down.

You work through the inserts like a factory line, trying not to get glue on your hoodie, trying even harder not to look too happy that she keeps hovering over your shoulder. Every few minutes she passes behind you, laying a hand on your back, leaning to read something over your shoulder, her perfume brushing against your cheek—light and heady, like peonies dipped in honey. When you mess up the first fold, she just laughs and reaches over to fix it, her fingers brushing yours deliberately.

“See? You’ve got the touch,” she says after you finish the third stack, peeking at your neat line of trimmed edges. “You’re careful. Precise. You’d make a good production lead.”

You pause, scissors halfway through a page. “Production what?”

“For the club.” She spins one of the folding chairs around and straddles it backwards, arms folded over the backrest like she’s about to make a TED talk. “We need someone to manage all the materials and oversee project prep days. It’s not super intense, just a couple meetings, task lists, making sure stuff gets done right. I’ve been doing it all myself, but honestly, you’re way more organized than I expected.”

“Uh. Thanks?” You’re not even sure if that’s a compliment or an insult.

She grins. “I'm serious! You’ve got this sort of… reliable energy. Like the kind of guy who double-checks the batteries before a camping trip.”

“Are you saying I’m boring?”

“No,” she says, tipping her head. “I’m saying you’re hot in a very unexpectedly domestic way.”

Your brain short-circuits a little. You drop a sheet. She laughs.

“That’s not—what even is that?”

“Means I could leave you alone in a room with a pet bunny and a glue gun and not worry about either of them dying.”

“…That is the weirdest compliment I’ve ever gotten.”

“And yet you’re still blushing.”

You turn your head away, trying to pretend you’re not. You totally are.

The idea of the position swirls in your head now, even as you keep folding. You picture being in charge of something, even something this small. Making lists. Making things run. Sohyun would probably laugh if she heard it. Or roll her eyes. Or both. Still. There's something weirdly satisfying about the idea of being useful like that. And then there’s the fact that it means more time here. Around her. Around this energy that makes you feel like you’re slightly floating, like maybe you matter in a way you hadn’t thought about before.

“I dunno,” you say. “I’ve never done anything like that before. And I’m still learning how the club works…”

“I’ll help you,” she says immediately. “Seriously. I wouldn’t throw you in alone. I just need someone I trust. And you’ve got this chill thing going on that keeps people from freaking out. I like that.”

You feel your ears heat again.

“I’ll think about it,” you say.

She pouts, and it’s completely weaponized. “But I need you.”

You choke on your breath.

She leans closer across the table. “Please? You’d be perfect. You’re already half in love with this place anyway.”

“I am not.”

She lifts an eyebrow. “You’re literally here folding paper on a Friday night.”

“…Point taken.”

She smiles then, something soft but electric, and somehow the room feels warmer. She taps the side of your hand lightly with a fingernail.

“Just say yes.”

You hesitate.

But it’s barely even hesitation.

“Okay,” you mumble, and you look down because her smile makes it hard to breathe right.

“I knew you would,” she says, sing-song and smug.

You keep working, heartbeat annoyingly loud, the sound of scissors and paper and her humming filling the room like you’ve stepped into a whole different orbit. Something not quite safe. But not bad, either. Just new.

And when you finally look at your phone later—two hours later—you realize you never texted Sohyun back.

—

You fumble with your keys at the door like they’ve suddenly become a math problem, plastic bags hanging heavy off your wrists, sleeves bunched up, hoodie damp with the sweat of a rushed walk to the market. You’re late. Not “forgot the time” late; actual late. Like, over-an-hour-past-the-“I’ll be home by six”-mark late. And that’s with the shortcut through the back alley that smells vaguely like wet cardboard and moldy pizza. You exhale, brace yourself, and nudge the door open with your foot.

Inside’s warm, lit up with the kitchen lights already on, even though you’d planned to turn them on yourself, cook like a responsible adult for once, surprise Sohyun with your flawless (okay, barely functional) culinary debut. Instead, there’s quiet rustling in the living room and the telltale smell of rice already cooking.

Damn.

“Sohyun,” you call out quickly, pushing in and kicking the door shut behind you. “Wait—don’t cook, I’m doing it! I swear!”

She appears before you can get another sentence out, standing in the doorway between the kitchen and the living room with her arms folded like she’s on break from interrogating someone. That same sweatshirt again, sleeves half covering her hands, her hair up in one of those loose, tired buns that somehow makes her look even more intimidating. She doesn’t say anything. Just stares at you.

You lift the bags. “Groceries. All of ‘em. Even got the brand of gochujang you like and those overpriced Belgian chocolate bars you keep ‘not liking’ but always finish.”

That gets her eyebrow twitching upward, just a little. But the frown’s still hanging around her mouth.

“I said I’d cook,” you add. “I didn’t forget this time.”

“You’re late.”

“I know, I’m sorry. There was… stuff. At the club. Unexpected stuff.”

She doesn’t ask what. She just moves aside so you can shuffle into the kitchen and start unpacking the bags. Vegetables. Noodles. Chicken. Soy sauce. Two bars of that milk chocolate with sea salt she thinks you don’t notice her hoarding in the freezer like contraband. She watches silently as you line things up on the counter, sleeves rolled up like you’re about to operate instead of cook.

“Okay,” you exhale, trying to sound confident and not like you’re internally googling how to dice an onion without making it look like a hate crime. “Tonight, we are making… stir-fried noodles. With chicken. And bok choy.”

Sohyun leans against the doorframe, arms still crossed. “You’re stir-frying something.”

“Technically, yes.”

She watches you wrestle the chicken out of its package like it’s a test of your moral fiber.

“You know,” she says after a long moment, “the whole point of you cooking was to not make me do anything.”

“I got this.”

You do not got this. Five minutes later you’re trying to figure out which knife is for chicken and which is for not-dying, when Sohyun lets out a sigh and walks over. She ties her hair up tighter, grabs a cutting board without a word, and starts slicing the bok choy with precision so sharp it’s almost smug.

“Hey—” you protest, “I said I got this.”

“You said a lot of things,” she mutters. “At this rate, we’ll be eating at midnight.”

You shut up and just let her work beside you. There’s something comforting about it, the shared silence while you both prep, the sound of knives on wood, the little clatter of bottles and bowls. You glance over at her hands a few times—how practiced they are, how she moves like she’s not even thinking about it. You’ve never been able to do anything that confidently. Not like her.

She doesn’t look at you when she speaks next. Her tone’s quiet. Even. Too even.

“So. This ‘unexpected stuff’ at the club.”

You clear your throat. “Just Xinyu stuff.

“Of course.”

“She needed help setting up some print stuff for the showcase tomorrow. I told her I couldn’t stay long, but…”

“But you stayed anyway.”

You hesitate. “It’s not like that.”

“Isn’t it?”

You glance up. She’s slicing scallions now, but her hands have slowed, like she’s not as calm as she wants to sound.

“She just needed help.”

Sohyun sets the knife down, finally looks at you.

“She always needs help, doesn’t she?”

You blink. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Sohyun wipes her hands on a dish towel. “It means girls like her know exactly what they’re doing when they lean in too close and smile too wide and ask for just one little favor. And boys like you—”

“—what about boys like me?” you cut in, more defensive than you expected.

She studies you. “You’re too nice. Too soft. You think people mean what they say when they smile at you.”

Your chest tightens, and you try to laugh it off. “You don’t even know her.”

“I don’t need to,” she says flatly. “I’ve seen enough. You come home late. You forget things. You’re too tired to eat sometimes. All because some pretty girl with glitter in her hair asks you to fold paper and run errands and smile on command.”

“She’s not using me,” you say, voice low now, trying to keep your hands busy with the noodles, but your pulse is skipping. “We’re friends. She values me. I’m not just—help. She made me a production lead.”

Sohyun lets out a quiet, humorless breath. “Wow. Production lead. That sounds very real.”

You grit your teeth. “You don’t know what it’s like there. The club’s fun. I like it. I feel… useful. Like I matter.”

“You do matter,” she snaps. “Here. With me. But you’re so damn caught up in being liked by her that you don’t see what she’s doing.”

You flinch, then stare down at the noodles, hands cold even over the heat of the pan.

“She’s really nice to me,” you mumble. “She listens. She laughs at my jokes. She makes me feel seen. Maybe you just… don’t get along with people like that.”

Her silence is louder than the stovetop now. You don’t dare look up. You keep stirring, even though the sauce is starting to bubble too fast, even though the smell is getting sharper. Sohyun says nothing for a long time.

When she finally speaks, her voice is quieter.

“She doesn’t see you,” she says. “She sees what she can get from you.”

You don’t know what to say to that. You just stand there, heat rising from the stove, from your face, from the sudden shift in the air around you.

“Let's just... finish cooking, okay?” you finally say, and the conversation ends.

The dinner isn’t bad. It’s not amazing either—one of the noodles is suspiciously crunchy and the sauce might be a little too salty—but it’s edible, and you didn’t set off the smoke detector, so it counts as a win. The kind of win where no one cheers but nobody dies. You both eat cross-legged on the couch, bowls balanced in your laps, watching something vague and unmemorable play out on the TV. Neither of you really pays attention. The show is just there to fill the silence you haven’t figured out how to cross again yet.

She’s quiet. Not in the usual way, where she’s half-ignoring you because she’s pretending to be annoyed. This is the kind of quiet where she doesn’t pick at your uneven chopstick technique, or sigh when you slouch too far forward like a sad noodle boy. She just eats. Occasionally glances at the screen. Mostly doesn’t look at you.

It’s your fault. You know that. You didn’t mean to shut her out, but the conversation from earlier is still coiled up tight in your chest like a knotted cord you can’t unkink. You know she meant well. You also know you didn’t want to hear it. And now it’s sitting between you like a third roommate with bad vibes and no rent.

You stab a stray noodle in the bowl and swirl it for no reason. Then, out of nowhere, you blurt it.

“Hey, uh… do you wanna go to the movies this weekend?”

Sohyun blinks. Turns her head slowly. “What?”

You cough and set your bowl down on the coffee table, feigning casual like you haven’t just rerouted the entire tone of the evening. “That movie. The weird indie horror-romance one you wouldn’t shut up about. You said it’s finally playing at that little theater downtown, right?”

She narrows her eyes like she suspects a trap. “That movie?”

“Yeah. That one with the girl who falls in love with a ghost that might’ve murdered her aunt.”

“You said that sounded dumb.”

“I’ve since developed taste.”

Her eyes flick down to your empty bowl, then back to your face, skeptical. “You wanna go see it. With me.”

“Yes.”

“At the theater.”

“Yes.”

“You, willingly, sitting through a movie where people talk in metaphors and cry in bathtubs for two hours.”

“Yes.”

She stares a second longer, then slowly sets her own bowl down.

“…Are you dying?”

You laugh, relieved that the wall between you starts to crack. “No. I just figured it’s been a while, you know? Since we went anywhere together. Just us.”

She looks at you, and this time it’s different. Softer. A little surprised. Her shoulders uncoil, just slightly.

“Yeah,” she says after a beat. “Yeah, I guess it has.”

You shift closer on the couch, knees brushing. She doesn’t pull away.

“I miss that,” you say quietly. “You and me. Hanging out. You making fun of my popcorn choices and stealing half of it anyway.”

“I don’t steal,” she mutters, glancing away. “You just let me take it.”

“Exactly,” you say, and you slide your hand over hers before you can overthink it. Just resting your palm on top of hers, fingers curling a little, not gripping, just—being there.

She flinches slightly at the contact, just a twitch, but she doesn’t pull back. She lets your fingers settle against hers, warm and tentative, and when you look up at her, she’s not smirking. Not scoffing. Her eyes are flicking down where your hands meet like it’s something foreign and strange and maybe a little fragile.

“You’re my best friend,” you say, simple and true. “You matter a lot to me.”

Her lips part slightly. Her brows lift, and for a second you think she might laugh it off or tell you you’re being cheesy or stupid—but she doesn’t. She just exhales, like maybe something heavy has been sitting in her chest too.

“You matter to me too,” she says.

You smile at her, and this time when your thumb brushes her knuckle, she doesn’t tense. She lets it happen. Lets you stay close. The show keeps playing in the background, some scene with a car chase and overly dramatic soundtrack cues, but you don’t hear it. Not really.

She shifts her hand slightly and laces her fingers with yours. Not fully. Not completely confident. But enough.

“Don’t be late to the theater,” she says softly. “Or I will eat all your popcorn.”

“Fair,” you say, and your heart’s beating like you’ve just run a mile uphill, but your smile won’t quit.

Neither will hers, even as she tries to hide it by turning toward the screen again.

And when she finally squeezes your hand, once, gently… you squeeze back.

—

The week grinds on like a slow, dull blade; long days of lectures that won’t end and projects that never feel done, your hands always on something, always organizing, always fixing. The new position in the club sounded cool when Xinyu pitched it, sounded manageable, even kind of important. And it is. But it's also constant. There’s always something that needs adjusting. A deadline that wasn’t clear. A last-minute supply shortage. Someone who forgot to RSVP to a workshop and now wants to be squeezed in. You spend most of your hours between classes running around campus, typing messages with one hand and juggling printouts with the other. It’s not that you hate it. It’s just… a lot.

And you’ve been deliberately keeping it at arm’s length this week. Showing up when you need to. Doing what’s necessary. But not lingering. Not letting yourself fall into the way Xinyu looks at you when you're both the last ones in the room. Not letting yourself chase that high that comes from being the center of her attention. You're just packing your things at the edge of the classroom when the scent hits you before the voice. Vanilla, sharp berry, something flirtatious. You freeze for half a second before you even look up.

“There you are,” Xinyu says, leaning against the frame of the door like it’s a movie scene. Skirt just high enough to register, blouse knotted loosely at the waist, hair done up in a half-messy twist that probably took twenty minutes to make look that accidental. She’s smiling at you like she caught you doing something bad and she’s this close to forgiving you for it.

“Hey,” you say, more cautious than casual.

“Got a minute?” She pushes off the door with one heel, strides into your personal space like she owns it, which (let’s face it) she kind of does when she wants to. “Just wanted to run a couple updates by you for the zine drop next week. Also, did you see my text?”

You blink. “Uh, I think so? About the schedule?”

“No,” she says, stepping even closer, voice lowering just enough to pull your gaze to her mouth. “The one I sent yesterday. About the mixer tonight.”

You shake your head. “I’ve been a little swamped. Haven’t had time to check.”

Her smile flickers, momentarily amused, maybe faintly disappointed. “Yeah, I noticed. You’ve been kind of... scarce this week.”

You shift your bag on your shoulder, trying not to notice the way her eyes track the movement. “I’ve just had a lot going on. Assignments, you know. Life.”

“Sure,” she says, tilting her head. “But it’s not like you to dip right after meetings. And I miss my favorite assistant-slash-handyman-slash-pretty boy.”

That catches you off guard. You cough and glance toward the hallway.

She’s teasing, obviously.

Probably.

Right?

“I’m still doing everything I’m supposed to,” you say, trying to stay focused. “I’ve just been trying to keep my head down and not burn out.”

She studies you for a second, like she’s assessing whether that’s the whole truth. “Mhm. So you’re saying you could come to the mixer tonight but you won’t.”

You laugh nervously. “I already have plans.”

That gets her attention. “Plans?” she repeats, lifting an eyebrow. “With who?”

You hesitate. A beat too long.

“…My roommate,” you say. “Sohyun.”

Her mouth lifts at one corner, interested now in a way that’s different; not just playful, but… analytical.

“Sohyun…” she echoes. “That name’s familiar. I think I’ve seen her around. Quiet girl? Moles on the face? Always in a hoodie?”

You nod. “Yeah, that’s her.”

“Didn’t know you two were that close.”

You try to shrug it off, but your grip on your bag strap tightens. “We live together. We hang out sometimes. She’s just—she’s my friend.”

Xinyu steps closer. Close enough you can smell her perfume again, soft and sweet, like fruit ripened in summer heat. Her fingers trail lightly across your forearm.

“Just your friend,” she murmurs.

You nod, throat dry. “Yeah.”

Her eyes drag over your face like she’s reading a secret written across your skin. She doesn’t blink. Her fingers pause, then curl lightly around your wrist.

“That’s good,” she says, voice velvet-wrapped. “Because you already have an owner.”

Your breath catches. “I—what?”

She doesn’t give you time to untangle the meaning. She just leans forward and kisses you.

It’s soft at first, almost testing. Her lips barely brush yours, but the sensation is instantly overwhelming. Sweet gloss. A breath of warm air. Her fingers sliding up, into your hair, pulling you a half-step deeper before you even realize you're leaning in. Everything disappears, noise, time, the fluorescent hallway lights, it’s just her, kissing you like she’s claiming something that already belonged to her.

You don’t move. You can’t move. Your thoughts are scattering like coins in water.

When she finally pulls back, her face is still inches from yours, her breath warm and her smile damn near criminal.

“You’re cute when you look like you’ve been unplugged,” she says, brushing your jaw with the back of her knuckle. “But don’t worry. I don’t bite.”

You swallow, hard. “I don’t…”

“You don’t what?”

“I don’t really know what that meant.”

She laughs. “It means I’m making a reservation, baby. You’re mine.”

You look at her, dumbstruck, heart slamming in your ribs.

Then, before you can collect yourself, she adds, “So, since you’re blowing me off for your roommate tonight, how about you make it up to me.”

“…How?”

She leans in again, lips just by your ear now.

“Ask me out. Just you and me. No club stuff. No excuses.”

You hesitate. You shouldn’t. You should say no. You should stall. But instead—

“…Okay. I will.”

Her smile goes wide and adorable.

“Good boy.”

She kisses your cheek this time, softer, lighter, but somehow more dangerous, and then turns on her heel and disappears down the hall, skirt swinging, a melody of casual destruction.

You’re left standing in the doorway of your classroom, the taste of her still on your lips, your phone buzzing with a new message that you already know is from her.

And somehow, all you can think about now is how the hell you’re going to face Sohyun tonight.

—

You get to the theater with barely a minute to spare, which is honestly a miracle considering your brain's been running on static ever since Xinyu kissed you. You’ve been replaying it like some kind of forbidden cutscene you unlocked by accident. Her perfume is still clinging to your hoodie. Your lips still feel weirdly aware, like your body hasn’t updated the rest of itself on what happened. You texted Sohyun that you were on your way while your fingers were still slightly shaking.

And now she’s standing in front of the ticket kiosk, scrolling on her phone, her expression neutral until she hears your footsteps. She looks up, and her face softens the way it always does when she sees you: shoulders relaxing, lips almost smiling. She’s got her hair down tonight, not tied up like usual, and her eyeliner’s a little sharper than usual, like she put in effort but didn’t want to make it obvious. It kind of punches the air out of your lungs.

“You made it,” she says.

“Wouldn’t miss it,” you manage, trying to keep your tone level.

She squints. “You okay? You look like you just ran from a house fire.”

“I’m fine. Just, uh…” You rub the back of your neck, laughing awkwardly. “Got caught up with something right before I left. But I’m good now. Totally good.”

She walks beside you toward the entrance, and the moment you get close, she stops short. Her nose twitches. Her brow furrows slightly.

“Hold up,” she says, sniffing the air near your shoulder. “What is that?”

You freeze. “What’s what?”

“That smell. Are you wearing perfume?”

You nearly trip over your own feet. “What? No. No, no. It’s, uh… probably just my deodorant. I bought a new one. It’s got like, weird… berry something in it. Or… lavender? Maybe both? I don’t know.”

She stares at you like you just said your skin naturally emits essential oils. “You smell like someone else. Like a girl."

You try not to sweat. “Maybe I brushed past someone on the train. Or—maybe someone at the mall sprayed a tester thing. I mean, you know how people get with free samples.”

Sohyun doesn’t look convinced, but she doesn’t press further. Not directly. Just narrows her eyes and says, “Uh-huh,” before moving toward the theater doors again.

You scramble to change the subject, reaching for something, anything. “Hey, by the way… you look really beautiful tonight.”

That gets her attention. She stops walking again. Turns slowly.

“What?”

You blink. “I mean it. You look nice. Really nice. It’s the eyeliner or the hair or maybe both. I dunno. You just do.”

Now her expression isn’t suspicious, exactly. More like… confused. Like you just threw her off balance in a way she wasn’t expecting. She gives you a side glance, narrowing her eyes again.

“Okay, what’s going on with you tonight?”

“Nothing,” you say quickly, holding your hands up like you’re being accused of a crime. “I’m allowed to compliment my best friend, right?”

She mutters something like “Not when you’re acting weird about it,” but she walks ahead and scans the tickets, so you follow her into the dark theater, hoping the blackness will hide how flushed you probably are.

You sit next to her, the movie already starting with a low, ambient hum that fills the space between you. But you’re not really there. Not fully.

Your body is sitting beside Sohyun, her knee occasionally brushing yours, the bucket of popcorn between you smelling like synthetic butter and warm salt. But your mind keeps flashing back to the moment in the hallway earlier today—Xinyu leaning in, her lips brushing yours, her voice low and possessive, calling you hers. That look in her eyes like she meant it. Like she wanted you. Not just to help with her club plans, not just to make things run smoothly. You. Specifically you.

You sit still, trying to focus on the film, but the plot flows over you like mist—haunting music, characters whispering in shadowy rooms, a scene with someone walking backwards in slow motion. You’re lost in the echo of what Xinyu said.

You already have an owner.

You don’t know what to make of it. But it didn’t feel fake. It didn’t feel like she was playing. It felt like something real. Like maybe Sohyun was wrong. Maybe Xinyu does care about you. Maybe all the flirtation and teasing wasn’t just a way to get you to fold papers and haul supplies. Maybe she likes you. For you.

But then you glance sideways. Sohyun’s eyes are on the screen, but she’s smiling. Just a little. The kind of smile you only catch if you’re watching her close, when something in the movie hits right, or when she’s just happy to be there beside you, no pressure, no performance. Just… happy.

You feel it then. Not guilt, exactly. Something messier. Like being caught between two currents pulling in opposite directions. Xinyu’s kiss still burns on your lips. But Sohyun’s hand, resting on the armrest beside yours, feels like something familiar. Something safe.

So you just keep sitting there, the film flickering over both of you, your brain too full and too loud to hear much of anything.

But Sohyun leans slightly toward you halfway through the film, and whispers, “Thanks for coming with me.”

You nod, quiet. “Of course.”

She nudges you lightly with her shoulder. “Even if your deodorant smells suspiciously like high-end seduction.”

You laugh under your breath, and it breaks the tension in your chest a little. She doesn’t ask more.

And you’re not sure where this is all going. But for now, you’re here. With her. Sharing popcorn. Sharing silence. Sharing something you still haven’t named.

But despite all this, somehow, tonight is going well.

Or at least you're pretending it is.

—

It starts subtly. A slow gravitational shift. One day you’re just helping Xinyu reorganize the storage shelves in the club room, joking about how half the boxes are labeled with inside jokes only she understands, and the next, it’s just the two of you sitting cross-legged on the carpet, eating overpriced takeout while she flips through proofs and playfully feeds you shrimp tempura with her chopsticks. Time begins to bend differently around her. Hours pass like they’re minutes when she’s smiling at you like that, fingers trailing casually along your thigh while she talks about themes for the next zine, her head tilted, eyes lit like you’re the only one who gets to hear this part of her.

You try not to let it show too much outside the club room. It’s not like you’re trying to hide it, but there’s something about it that feels too new, too bright to be touched by other people’s opinions.

Especially Sohyun’s.

So you don’t say anything about the kisses stolen behind closed doors or the way Xinyu's hand slips into yours when no one’s looking. But you talk about her. A lot. More than usual. Like you’re hoping repetition will turn perception. Like you’re trying to overwrite Sohyun’s skepticism with enough evidence that she’ll finally admit she was wrong.

At first, you don’t notice how often you bring her up. Like during dinner one night, when Sohyun’s plating kimchi stew and you’re scrolling through your phone with a dumb grin.

“She’s seriously so funny,” you say, half-laughing to yourself. “Yesterday she was trying to teach me how to make those little origami frogs and I kept screwing them up, so she made a whole sad frog funeral out of my mess-ups. Like full-on folded a little casket. It was so dumb, but I couldn’t stop laughing.”

Sohyun glances up from the pot, slow, expression unreadable. “Sounds… elaborate.”

“Yeah, but like, in a cute way,” you say, scooping rice into your bowl. “She’s got this energy that makes everything more fun. Even boring stuff. Like she turned budget planning into a game last week. Made me guess prices on glitter and glue sticks like it was a quiz show.”

“She ever let you win?”

You grin. “Only when I look extra pitiful.”

Sohyun doesn’t laugh. She just places your bowl in front of you without comment, her eyes flicking down to the table as she settles into her seat. You don’t catch the way her fingers tense around her chopsticks before she starts eating.

You miss other signs too. Like how she doesn’t look up when you come home late anymore. Or how she doesn’t ask what you were up to. You used to tell her without prompting, but now your nights are wrapped in something private—lipstick on your neck, her breath on your ear, Xinyu pressing you against clubroom cabinets with that smug little grin that makes your thoughts scatter like dice.

You stop watching movies with Sohyun. Not intentionally. It just slips away. The time you spent together starts shrinking, edged out by late-night print meetings, gallery walks with Xinyu that turn into half-drunken conversations on park benches, and slow kisses that taste like watermelon gum and heat. You keep saying you’ll reschedule movie night. You never do.

Sohyun doesn’t press. But she notices.

She notices how you start smiling at your phone more than usual. How your hoodie comes home smelling like something not yours. She notices how you hesitate when she asks how your day went, how you mention Xinyu’s name like it’s a punctuation mark in every other sentence.

“Did she ask you to talk about her this much,” Sohyun mutters one night.

“What?”

She doesn’t repeat herself. Just stares at the screen. Her shoulders stiff.

You shift on the couch. “I just think maybe she’s not how you assumed, that’s all.”

Sohyun’s jaw tightens, her eyes still on the flickering movie neither of you are watching. “Maybe.”

“She’s been… really kind to me,” you add. “She listens. She gets it. I dunno. It’s just nice having someone who really sees you, y’know?”

There’s a pause. A breath. A sound like something small and invisible breaking.

“I thought I did,” she says quietly.

You turn to her. “What?”

“Nothing,” she says. “Forget it.”

You don’t push. And that’s the worst part. You used to. But now Xinyu’s kisses are still on your collar, her texts still open on your screen, little cartoon hearts trailing in your thoughts like an afterimage.

You’re floating. Orbiting. And you don’t see the way Sohyun’s been left behind on the ground, staring at your back like she’s watching a spaceship disappear into a sky that never once asked her to come along.

—

One month has passed.

She’s not surprised when you’re late. That’s just how it is now.

The first few times, she was. At least enough to stay up, waiting in the living room with a show paused halfway through and her phone resting face-up on the armrest. But that phase passed. It’s like training a cat to come home by midnight—you can try, but if it keeps slipping out the window, eventually you stop wasting your breath.

Now it’s routine. You say you’ll be home by eight. She hears the door creak at eleven. You always have a reason. Club stuff. Project stuff. Xinyu needing help. Xinyu needing you. And Sohyun tells herself not to care. She tells herself she’s just your roommate. She tells herself that if she keeps her expectations low enough, they won’t disappoint her when they inevitably fall short.

But tonight is different.

You didn’t say you'd be out late. You said you'd be back in time for dinner. Even said you'd help her prep. She made an actual list. Took the rice out early. Washed vegetables like she believed you.

Stupid. Stupid, stupid.

Nine o'clock. She tries to study. Fails.

Ten o'clock. She scrolls social media and refreshes your chat twice, looking for a dot that never shows up.

At eleven, she sends a message:

you good?

At midnight:

where are you

No reply.

She starts imagining things she doesn't want to imagine. Hospital beds. Car crashes. You ditching your phone somewhere and bleeding out behind a dumpster. All of it stupid, dramatic, and totally possible in the late-night silence of a too-quiet apartment. She walks the loop from the kitchen to the living room and back again like pacing will keep her from thinking. At 1 a.m. she gives up and goes to her room, sits in bed with the lights off and your chat open on her phone like it might suddenly ping alive and make her look dumb for worrying.

You don’t reply.

Not even the seen-check mark.

She stares at the glow of the screen, the little timestamp beneath her last message like it’s laughing at her.

At 3:04 a.m, the door clicks.

She hears it, obviously. She’s been awake for hours, lying still in the dark, breathing shallow like that might trick her thoughts into falling asleep. The lock turns slowly, like you’re trying not to make a sound. The door swings open with that telltale rubbery groan (it’s always the left hinge) and then soft footsteps. Your footsteps.

She doesn’t move.

You shuffle into the hallway. Then your door clicks shut, soft. No lights turned on. No message sent. No “hey, sorry I’m late.” Just… slipping in like a kid past curfew. Quiet as guilt.

She stares at her ceiling. Her room smells like night cream and too much unsaid.

Something’s wrong. Not in the usual way.

You didn’t just get caught up. You’re hiding something.

She sits up finally, swings her legs over the side of the bed, but doesn’t turn on the light. She just sits there in the dark, jaw clenched, fists curling in her lap.

It’s Xinyu. Of course it’s Xinyu.

Something about that girl makes Sohyun’s skin crawl. Too perfect. Too polished. Too practiced with the way she laughs like music and touches everyone like they’re already hers. And she could see it happening—could see the way you lit up around her, how your eyes chased Xinyu’s every move like a dog waiting for scraps. At first, Sohyun thought it was a phase. Something shallow. A crush that’d fizzle out like most of yours did.

But then the quiet started. The missed dinners. The unread messages. The new deodorant that didn’t smell like you. The way your eyes would dart when she said Xinyu’s name, like it was a window she could see through.

Now, tonight, the way you came in like a stranger. That was the crack that let everything pour in.

She should be angry. She wants to be angry. But what’s worse is this ache: this quiet, hollow ache in her chest like she’s watching something slip out of her hands she never got to call hers in the first place.

You were hers. Not hers-hers. Not officially. But still. Hers in the way you always came to her first. Hers in the way your laugh sounded different when it was just them. Hers in the way you’d watch her cook with that dumb soft look and try not to say anything because you didn’t want to sound sappy. She misses that.

She misses you.

Now all she has is the memory of your footsteps in the dark and the smell of that other girl on your clothes.

And she’s not sure how much longer she can pretend not to notice.

—

Sohyun wakes up earlier than usual. Not because she wants to. Her eyes just snap open like they’re waiting for an answer to a question she didn’t get to ask. The clock on her nightstand says 6:34, and her room is blue and gray and quiet, with the early light crawling across the floorboards like it’s sneaking in on tiptoe. Her pillow still smells faintly like conditioner and sleep and the night she wasted waiting for you to come home. She kicks the blanket off. Her skin’s cold but her chest’s hotter than it should be. A low, smoldering kind of heat that simmers behind the ribs. Not anger. Not yet. Something more corrosive.

You’re already in the kitchen when she steps out. Acting like everything’s fine. Like nothing happened. Even visibly exhausted, you’ve got that dumb, disarming half-smile on, and your hoodie’s zipped all the way up like you think it makes you look more innocent. Like you think you’re just gonna pour some cereal, mumble something about class starting at eight, and coast through the morning without her noticing the parts of you that don’t match.

"Morning," you say. Your tone is chipper. Fake. She hates it. “I made coffee for you.”

She doesn’t ask anything. She doesn’t snap. She just grabs a mug, fills it with that bitter cheap instant coffee you somehow never notice tastes like burnt pennies, and sits at the table. You start rambling.

“I didn’t get a chance to reply last night. My phone died. I was at a friend’s place. We were just hanging out. Time got away from me, you know how it is.”

She hums. Not in agreement. Just to fill space.

“It wasn’t even that late,” you say. “I mean, okay, yeah, technically it was late, but it’s not like—nothing bad happened or anything. Just lost track.”

She keeps sipping her coffee, expression unreadable. Like the mug is more interesting than your entire explanation.

You wait for her to say something. She doesn’t. You keep going. Nervous filler. You always do that when you’re lying.

“I mean, I didn’t even realize what time it was. It was like, wow, already past two? Crazy. And by then I figured I’d just crash and not wake anyone up.”

She sets the mug down too hard. It clinks against the wood laminate. She looks at you, expression flat. “It’s okay.”

That’s it. Just that. No inflection. Not even a glare. You nod awkwardly and start preparing your cereal.

—

The walk to campus is dead quiet. You both step in sync without thinking, but there’s no music between you. No shared earbuds. No small talk. Just footsteps and a silence that stretches so long it starts to feel like another person walking beside you, tall and heavy and suffocating.

At the entrance gate, you break off first. “See you later, yeah?” you say.

Sohyun just nods. You turn. And she watches you go.

But today’s different.

Today she’s not going to sit back. Today she’s done playing passive-aggressive roommate, done standing still while something she doesn’t want to name slips out of reach. Today she’s going to find out. For real. Whatever it is—whatever this thing is between you and Xinyu—she needs to see it. Even if it breaks her.

She heads toward your building at a brisk pace, hoodie pulled low, headphones in with nothing playing. Just for the look. Just to blend in. She waits across the quad from your classroom entrance, leaning against a column like she’s texting, like she belongs there, like her heart isn’t pounding in her ears so loud she feels it in her teeth.

You come out a minute later, backpack slung lazy on one shoulder, head ducked, scrolling your phone. She steps into motion before you can see her. You don’t look back. You don’t notice. She follows you across the paved paths, past vending machines and sleepy undergrads, keeping enough distance to look like she’s just going the same way. No one glances at her twice.

And then she sees her. Xinyu.

Bright red jacket. Short skirt and cropped top, quite inappropriate for the academic environment. Hair curled just-so, like she stepped out of an ad. Leaning against a bench with one ankle crossed over the other like she’s waiting for her date. You slow. She smiles. Arms open.

“There you are!” she chirps, pulling you in.

It’s not just a hug. Sohyun knows what hugs are. This one’s got linger. This one’s got fingertips sliding up your back like they’re trying to memorize every bone. You look caught off guard, but you don’t move away.

Sohyun slinks closer, behind the sculpture garden wall. She crouches low, right by the rhododendron hedge that stinks faintly of wet bark and cheap fertilizer. Her hands are cold.

"We need to go to the club immediately,” she says.

“I thought the club was closed today,” you reply.

Xinyu laughs, and it’s musical and full of knowing. “Exactly. It’s closed. No one’s gonna be there.”

You hesitate. “But like… isn’t that why we shouldn’t go?”

“Aw,” she coos, dragging her nail down your sleeve, “you’re so cute when you’re trying to be good. Come on, just a little visit. I forgot my notebook and I need to do some sketches. Besides—” she lowers her voice, “I like the place better when it’s empty. More room to spread out. More room to play.”

Sohyun’s stomach flips.

You laugh nervously. “I guess… I mean, if you really need help—”

“I always need help,” she says, and leans close again. “And you’re so good with your hands.”

It’s like someone punched the breath out of Sohyun’s lungs. She watches you scratch your neck, look away, not quite answering. But you’re not pulling away either. You’re not protesting. You’re blushing. She’s got her hooks in and she knows it. Sohyun can see it all from here, every smug flick of Xinyu’s lashes, every calculated little lean and brush.

She swallows hard. Her fingers are clenched so tight her knuckles hurt.

No. She’s not letting this slide.

She bolts before she can hear anything else. Takes the side path, sneakers hitting concrete in bursts, weaving through the back courtyards toward the old art building. The clubroom’s there, tucked in behind the supply annex. Her legs burn by the time she reaches it.

The door’s unlocked. Wide open. And inside, a janitor’s sweeping like this is just another fucking Tuesday.

“Excuse me!” she says, breathless, jogging in. The janitor looks up.

“There’s—someone from the admin office looking for you,” she lies, no hesitation. “Something about a sink backup on the second floor? They said it was urgent.”

He sighs. “Again?” and drops the broom.

As he walks out, Sohyun holds the door open like a good little helper, then slips in behind him and closes it tight.

The silence is huge.

The air’s cooler inside. Fluorescent lights flicker overhead. The clubroom’s a controlled mess—tables littered with fabric scraps, zine proofs, glue sticks half-melted from overuse. It smells like paper and lavender and too many secrets.

She moves fast, eyes scanning for hiding spots. Under the table? No, too exposed. Behind the supply shelves? Not unless she wants to get spotted immediately. Then—there. In the back corner, half-concealed behind stacked poster rolls and bins of foam letters: a janitor’s closet. She darts over and yanks it open.

Coats. Wire hangers. A mop bucket. Miscellaneous crap. She slides in anyway, curling herself into the shadow between a metal cabinet and a box labeled “event props.” Her heart’s still racing.

She pulls the door mostly shut, leaving just a sliver to breathe through.

And now… she waits.

Every creak of the floor outside makes her flinch. Her phone vibrates. One buzz. It’s a message from you.

Hey, forgot to ask—do we have soy sauce left at home or should I pick some up?

She stares at the screen, thumb hovering. Doesn’t answer. Just locks it again and grips the edge of a crate until her nails dig in.

You’re coming. With her. With Xinyu. To this room. This space.

She doesn’t know what’s about to happen. She just knows she has to see it.

She has to know

A few minutes later, she hears footsteps, accompanied by an irritating giggle that she can already imagine who it belongs to.

You enter the club with Xinyu. The door clicks behind you with a soft, unmistakable snap. The kind that doesn’t come from a casual tug—no, it’s deliberate. You hear the rustle of keys before you even process the sound of the lock sliding into place, and that does something to the air. Traps it. Slows it down. Makes it feel heavier somehow.

Xinyu twirls the lanyard on her finger once, lets it slap lightly against her thigh, then drops the keys into her bag without ceremony. “There,” she says, all sugar and satisfaction. “Now we won’t be interrupted.”

You laugh nervously, glancing at the darkened windows. The blinds are half-drawn, a few strips of light slicing across the tables. “You really didn’t have to lock it.”

“Didn’t I?” she says, tilting her head like she’s daring you to disagree. “What if someone wandered in? What if they got the wrong idea?”

You blink. “I mean—if someone walked in, they’d… kinda get the right idea.”

She giggles, high and soft, stepping in close enough that your backpack bumps the wall behind you. Her perfume’s even stronger in here. Berries and danger. She plants both hands on your chest and leans in, the weight of her grin dragging everything out of orbit.

“You really are cute when you’re flustered.”

You swallow.

“We’ve gotta be quick, though,” she says, letting her palms slide down your hoodie, slow and teasing. She pulls back a bit and throws her bag on the floor, then slowly takes off her jacket. “I told my friend I was going to grab a notebook. Don’t want her wondering why I’m gone long enough to start a new semester.”

She kisses you before you can answer. Fast. Hot. Hungry. Like her mouth’s been waiting all morning and now she’s starved for it. Her lips crash against yours in that wild way only Xinyu seems capable of—reckless and commanding, tongue slipping in like she owns the space. Your brain stutters. Her hands drag lower. One slips under your hoodie, nails brushing skin. The other works on the strap of your backpack, removing one at a time until it falls to the floor with a loud thud in the confined space.

And in the closet, twenty feet away, behind a stack of mismatched poster tubes and event bins, Sohyun goes still.

She doesn’t even remember breathing.

But she hears it all.

That kiss isn’t innocent. That kiss is confirmation. That kiss is a final answer to a question she wasn’t ready to ask—and it lands like a brick in the hollow center of her stomach.

Xinyu breaks from you with a little satisfied sound, her lips glossy, eyes bright. “So…” she purrs, brushing your jaw with the back of her hand, “what’d you think of last night?”

You smile, stupid and a little dazed. “It was… amazing.”

Sohyun’s hands clench.

She doesn’t need details. Her brain fills in the blanks. Too many of them. Her imagination paints things she never wanted to see—your hoodie balled on the floor, Xinyu astride you, laughing into your neck, your voice shaking in ways she’s never heard. The thought turns her breath into knives.

Xinyu hums in satisfaction, then drops her gaze—and her fingers.

They land on the waistband of your jeans.

You tense, glancing at the locked door. “Wait—here?”

“It’ll be fast,” she whispers, eyes already glinting. “You’re already hard.”

She says it like she’s proud of herself. Like you being turned on is a trophy she’s just picked up off the shelf. Her fingers fumble with your button, then unzip skillfully. She sinks down onto her knees, casual as anything.

Sohyun’s heart is in her throat.

She watches from that narrow slit between the door and the wall. She sees your pants drop to your ankles. Sees Xinyu’s hands slide up your thighs. Sees the gleam of her smile when she notices the outline straining through your underwear.

You shift, uncomfortable. “Hey, uh… maybe we shouldn’t keep staying out so late. I got home really late last night. I think Sohyun’s starting to get suspicious.”

Xinyu’s head tilts as she hooks her fingers in your waistband. “So?”

You blink. “I just—don’t want her to worry, that’s all.”

She laughs. Laughs. Like you told her a joke. “She’s not your mother.”

“No, but—she’s my best friend. I don’t want her to think I’m—lying or something.”

That makes Xinyu pause. Just for a second. Then her smile sharpens.

“She doesn’t get a say in this,” she says, and her hands tug your underwear down in one quick, fluid motion.

Sohyun sees everything. And it burns.

Your cock springs free, flushed, twitching with the tension of the moment. You make a small sound in your throat, embarrassed and eager all at once. Xinyu just beams.

“Aww, you really missed me, huh?” she coos.

You try to answer but you can’t form words. Not when her fingers wrap around the base, smooth and practiced, stroking once, twice. Your knees buckle a little.

“She’s not gonna come between us,” she adds softly, voice low now, as she leans in, breath hot against the head. “I don’t care who she is.”

“Don’t say that,” you murmur, but it’s weak. Shaky. “Sohyun’s not just… some random girl.”

Xinyu’s eyes flick up. “Sure,” she says, tone mocking. “She’s your 'best friend'. Whatever.” Then she opens her mouth and takes you in.

You gasp. Sohyun nearly doubles over.

The sound is unmistakable. Wet. Slow. She sees the way Xinyu hollows her cheeks, her jaw working, the obscene slide of her lips over you like she’s savoring every inch. Her hand moves in tandem, twisting just right, guiding every pull and suck. She doesn’t blink. Just stares up at you while she sucks you like she’s devouring you, like she knows she owns you now and she’s showing it.

Your fingers tangle in her hair. Your head tips back.

“S-Shit—” you whisper, trembling. “That’s… fuck…”

Xinyu moans around you, like praise is her favorite meal.

And Sohyun sits in the dark, biting her hand to keep from screaming.

Her lips glide down the length of you slow, savoring, wet heat enveloping inch by inch like she wants to claim it. She doesn’t gag—she adjusts, angle tilting, jaw relaxing, one hand bracing at your thigh while the other strokes the base with a rhythm that makes your knees wobble. Every pass of her tongue along the underside feels like it’s wired directly into your spine, like she’s flipping switches you didn’t know you had.

And she loves it. Every reaction. Every twitch of your hips, the shallow breath you try to hold back, the soft curse you can’t keep from slipping out.

Above her, you brace against the table edge with one hand, the other still threaded in her hair, not pulling, just trying to anchor yourself because she’s looking up at you through lashes dark with mischief, mouth full of your cock like it’s where she was meant to be. Like she planned this moment every time she leaned too close in club meetings or brushed your arm on the walk back from the coffee shop.

From the closet, through that sliver of space, Sohyun sees everything.

The bob of Xinyu’s head, the shine on her chin, the way your hips twitch forward helplessly when she lets her tongue swirl the tip and then slides back down again, steady, smooth, obscene. Sohyun’s fingers are curled into her jeans now, nails biting deep through the denim. Her legs are cramped, but she doesn’t move. She can’t. Every instinct screams to throw the door open and drag you out, but her body’s paralyzed with it—betrayal folded in silence.

You make a sound, soft and hoarse—something between a gasp and a whimper. Xinyu hums, and the vibration along your shaft sends a full-body shiver through you. She pulls off just enough to stroke you with her fist, wrist flicking expertly, thumb swiping the bead of precum from your slit before leaning in again—only this time, lower.

You flinch, surprised, as her lips brush your balls.

Her tongue darts out. A single slow lick, teasing. Then another. Then she shifts lower and takes one in her mouth.

Your breath catches.

“Fuck—Xinyu—”

She giggles, muffled, then pulls off, tongue trailing over your skin like she’s tasting you for notes of sweetness. “Mm,” she says, tilting her face just enough for you to see the smug curve of her smile. “Bet she doesn’t do that.”

There’s a pause.

You hesitate. It’s barely a breath.

“…She doesn’t,” you admit, low, shame threaded through the moan that slips out next as her mouth seals over you again.

Sohyun flinches like she’s been hit.

It’s the confirmation she never wanted—real, raw, echoing in your voice, in your hips tilting forward like you need this, like this is something you never got at home.

Xinyu switches sides, tongue painting lazy circles as her fingers resume their slow pump. “I knew it,” she purrs. “She acts all tough, but she wouldn’t dare get on her knees for you, would she?”

You shake your head, lips parted. Your reply is barely audible, wrecked: “No…”

“Mm,” she hums again, hot breath teasing your spit-slick skin. “Guess that’s my job now, huh?”

You can’t even speak.

She shifts again—one hand stroking, the other cradling under you as her mouth wraps around both balls, tongue massaging them gently, rolling with practiced pressure that makes your thighs tense. You groan, deep in your chest, and she moans with you, reveling in the sound, the twitch she feels under her tongue, the way your body gives itself up to her touch.

Your head falls back.

She’s not just sucking you off. She’s showing off.

For you. For herself. And unknowingly—for the girl hidden in a closet, heart shattering beat by beat.

Sohyun watches your hips rock forward slightly, the way you bite your lip to muffle the next sound. The way your hand trembles on the table. You’re trying so hard not to fall apart, and failing beautifully.

Your hand slides against the tabletop, blindly reaching for something—balance, maybe—but there’s nothing steady in you right now. Not with the way Xinyu's mouth keeps working you like she's drawing a map with her tongue, etching you into memory with every slow, deliberate swirl. She’s focused, almost clinical, except her eyes betray her—hungry, gleaming, dark with satisfaction every time your hips jerk, every time a new sound punches out of your throat and hangs too loud in the still air.

“Fuck—Xinyu,” you breathe, the syllables sticky with pleasure, broken by a stuttering inhale. “That feels so good.”

Her lips pop off your tip with a wet little sound, tongue dragging around it in slow circles, teasing. She smiles as she laps again, feather-light at first, then firmer, lashing under the head like she’s tasting something sweet she refuses to finish too soon.

“Mmm,” she murmurs, kissing it. “I love this cock. So thick… god, you don’t even know what you do to me.”

You twitch under her touch, body caught between surrender and overload. Your thighs are tight, your hands shaky, and she’s not slowing down. She wraps her lips around the tip again, deeper this time, sucking just enough to make your breath catch and your knees knock. One hand strokes the base with a slow rhythm while the other rests flat on your stomach, possessive, like she’s holding you in place. Your moans are barely controlled now, soft, breathy things slipping past your lips no matter how hard you try to stay quiet.

In the closet, Sohyun has both hands clamped over her mouth now, but it’s not enough. Her body is shaking. Her teeth are pressed so deep into her palm she doesn’t notice the sting anymore—not until her tongue tastes iron and she realizes her lip is bleeding too. Her eyes are wide, unblinking, locked on the sight of you crumbling under Xinyu’s mouth, on your hands fisting the edge of the table, the way your face is flushed and twitching and so vulnerable.

Then Xinyu pulls back with a wet gasp and a string of spit connects her lips to you. She wipes it with the back of her hand, smirking.

“Shit,” she says, laughing breathlessly. “You’re soaked. I made a mess.”

She doesn’t apologize. She’s proud of it.

Then her expression shifts. Her hands find your hoodie, tugging. “C’mon. Lie down for me.”

You blink, dazed. “What?”

She tugs harder. “Down. Now.”

And you obey. You let her guide you down onto the storage cushions scattered across the clubroom floor—the ones usually used for sitting during brainstorm sessions and awkward icebreakers. Today, they’re something else. They’re the mattress beneath your back, the soft collapse beneath your spine as Xinyu hovers over you like a second atmosphere. You barely get your balance before she swings a leg over you and straddles your hips, skirt hiked up already, panties visible in that indecent half-off way that says she planned this down to the hour.

She reaches between her thighs, fingers hooking the waistband to the side. No hesitation. No modesty.

“I wasn’t even gonna wear this skirt today,” she says, her grin downright feral. “But then I woke up and thought… damn, I really want to ride him. And this one makes it easy.”

Your mouth is dry. You can’t speak. Can barely breathe. The visual is too much—the way she sits on your waist, head tilted, hair framing her flushed cheeks. She grips you in one hand again, lining you up against the heat of her, rubbing once—twice—and your whole body jumps like you’ve been shocked.

In the closet, Sohyun is crumbling. Quietly. Violently.

She presses her head back against the wall, jaw clenched hard enough to ache. Her eyes are glassy now, not blinking. She watches Xinyu lean forward, planting a hand on your chest as her hips shift just slightly, aligning.

And for Sohyun, the moment cracks. She can’t breathe. Her stomach’s twisted into something unrecognizable. Her hand tastes like blood and skin and the sharp edge of a truth she can’t swallow.

She wants to leave. She wants to scream. She wants to rip the door open and yell your name and tear the whole thing down before it happens. But her body won’t move. Her knees are pins and needles, her vision blurry, her throat full of something that feels like grief and fury mashed into pulp.

And you—flat on your back, arms limp at your sides, chest heaving—you’re watching Xinyu like she’s the only thing that exists right now.

The room smells like heat now. Like sweat and arousal and perfume and that undercurrent of something you don’t recognize but Sohyun does. The smell of losing. Of being replaced.

And Xinyu’s voice cuts through the haze one more time, with that damn victorious purr in every syllable.

“You ready for me, baby?”

The moment she sinks down on you is like being swallowed by heat. Her walls clamp tight, velvet-slick and impossibly wet, and she exhales sharp through her teeth like she’s savoring every inch of stretch. Her thighs flex around your hips, body settling flush against yours, cunt wrapped like a vice around your cock. Warm, pulsing, obscene. You feel it in your knees, in the back of your throat, in the way your eyes blur a little just trying to hold on to the sensation. And she leans in, hands pressed to your chest, nails dragging lightly over your hoodie as she grins down at you—smug, flushed, dangerous.

“Feel that?” she whispers, grinding slow just to make sure you do. “That’s how wet I am for you.”

You nod like you’re in a trance, breath hitched, brain short-circuiting. She rocks her hips once, slow and deep, and your head tips back involuntarily, shoulders hitting the cold vinyl of the clubroom floor. The contrast is dizzying—your back chilled, your cock engulfed in heat. She rolls her hips again, faster this time, and you gasp, hips twitching up into her as she smiles that smile like she’s already won. Because she has. She knows exactly what she’s doing to you, the way her pussy clenches around you just when you think you’ve caught your breath.

“Fuck,” you mutter, hands flying up to brace her waist, fingers digging into her skin like it’ll keep you grounded.

“Mmm, yeah,” she purrs, rolling her hips again, faster now. “You love this. You love how tight I am. How I drip for you. You felt it last night, didn’t you?”

She leans closer, breasts pressing to your chest as she whispers hot against your ear. “That little black set I wore? The garter straps? The thigh-highs? All for you. I was soaked before you even touched me. So wet I could’ve made a mess of my sheets just grinding on your thigh. You remember how I moaned when you slid in? Remember how I told you you were deeper than anyone ever managed to get?”

You remember. God, you remember everything. The way her back arched as she bounced on your cock, the way her fingers tangled in her sheets, how she grabbed your wrists and held your hands against her hips like she didn’t want to let you pull out even if you tried. And it was hot—filthy, desperate, everything you’d never imagined yourself doing until she peeled you open and found all your soft spots.

But then you thought about Sohyun.

You didn’t mean to. It just… happened. Mid-thrust, mid-kiss, some flicker of guilt or curiosity or whatever sick alchemy lives in your gut. You’d pictured her. Not in a voyeur kind of way. Just… wondered. Wondered what her expression would be if she walked in. What her mouth would say. What her eyes would do. And worse, you’d wondered what it would be like if it were her riding you instead—her body flushed and stretched around your cock, her breathy little sighs instead of Xinyu’s practiced moans, her thighs trembling from the effort of keeping rhythm. That made your heart trip into your throat.

And now—now you’re thinking it again. You’re balls-deep in Xinyu, she’s rolling her hips like she’s trying to milk every drop out of you, and your fucking mind is betraying you. You’re picturing Sohyun in her ratty sleep shirt, hair undone, lip bitten, thighs spread across your hips like she’s scared of how much she needs it. You imagine her looking down at you, eyes wide and terrified and wanting, her cunt sucking you in like she doesn’t know how to stop. You imagine her voice cracking as she begs you not to stop, not to leave her like this, not when she finally has you.

The heat in your stomach coils tighter, shame blooming just beneath it.

And Xinyu notices.

“Where’d you go, baby?” she asks, cupping your face in both hands, her pace never faltering, slick heat grinding down on you with maddening precision. “You were staring right through me for a second. Thinking about something?”

You swallow thick. Shake your head. “No, I just—fuck. You feel amazing.”

She beams like it’s the truth. Maybe it is. Maybe it’s just buried under everything you’re not saying.

“Yeah?” she breathes, sitting upright again, her hands sliding down to pull at her top. She yanks it up and over her head in one swift motion, discarding it behind her like it doesn’t matter. Beneath it—no bra, just smooth skin, delicate collarbones and two perfect, pert breasts. Small enough to fit your palms. Nipples a flushed pink that draws your eyes like magnets.

“Wanna touch?” she asks, knowing damn well you do.

You nod, helpless, and she grabs your wrists, places your hands on her chest with a soft, teasing drag. The moment your thumbs brush her nipples she exhales, hips stuttering on your cock.

“Fuck, yes,” she moans, arching into your hands. “Squeeze them. Harder.”

You do. Palms cupping the weight of her, fingers kneading just the way she likes—gently at first, then rougher when she rolls her hips harder, when she grinds your cock deep inside her like she’s chasing something. Her thighs flex with every bounce, every motion building pressure in your spine. Her nipples pebble under your touch. She grabs your wrists again, pushes them tighter to her chest, pinning you in place as she rides harder now, breath catching with every impact.

“You’re so deep,” she pants, eyes fluttering closed. “I can feel you everywhere. Stretching me so fucking good, baby. God, I wish you could feel what I’m feeling. I’m soaked. I’m flooding your cock. You like that? You like how fucking needy I get for you?”

You groan, jaw tight, hips twitching up to meet her rhythm. You’ve stopped thinking. You’ve stopped pretending you can think. She’s taking everything from you with every roll of her hips, every clench of her cunt, every filthy word that drips off her tongue like sugar laced with venom.

And yet. The back of your mind still tugs. Still whispers.

What would Sohyun think, if she saw this? If she saw your face like this, your body bucking like you’re begging to be used? If she knew how Xinyu talks to you, fucks you, owns you?

What would she do if she saw you like this—flushed, trembling, helpless under another woman’s cunt?

Would she be jealous?

Would she be angry?

Would she want to be in Xinyu's place?

You can’t answer. You don’t get the chance.

Xinyu's pace shifts, frantic now, like something inside her snapped and all that sweet control she loved dangling over you is burning up fast. Her thighs tighten around your waist, nails digging into your shoulders, her whole body chasing friction like a starved thing. Every grind, every desperate rock of her hips sends jolts through your cock, your thighs, up your spine until you can’t even tell where your body ends and hers begins. Wet heat floods down your shaft, slick sounds filling the little space between you like they’re mocking the frantic, filthy rhythm you’ve fallen into.

She leans in, mouth crushing to yours, open, gasping, biting at your bottom lip like she can’t get close enough. Her breath is ragged, her kiss messy, spit-slick and desperate as her cunt clenches around you with every grind. She breaks the kiss for a second, forehead pressed to yours, breath hitching in short, punched gasps.

“Fuck—fuck, baby—” she pants, rolling her hips harder, faster, dragging you deeper every time she slams down. “You’re gonna make me cum. You feel that? You feel how fucking close I am?”

You nod, choking on your own breath. She’s trembling already, muscles shivering under your hands, pussy squeezing your cock so tight it makes your toes curl.

“Please—don’t stop—” she gasps against your mouth, and you hear the cracks in her usually-smooth voice, raw and honest in a way you barely ever hear.

You grab her hips, holding her still for a second, and start thrusting up into her, not gentle now—grinding her down onto you, meeting every desperate rut of her hips with a brutal snap of your own.

“Oh my God, oh my God, fuck—” she sobs, hands scrabbling for purchase at your shoulders, nails raking down your back through the thin fabric of your shirt. “Right there—right fucking there—!”

You don’t stop. You can’t. Your hips slam up into her again and again, cock punching deep inside her soaked cunt, the friction so blindingly good it’s all you can feel, all you can think about. Her walls flutter around you, squeezing tight, milking you, dragging you right to the edge with her.

Then her whole body locks up—legs clamping tight, back arching, head thrown back as she cums hard around you, mouth open in a silent scream. You feel her pussy clamp and pulse and flood hot around your cock, feel her thighs quivering against your sides as you keep pounding up into her, wringing every last spasm out of her until she collapses against you, boneless, panting.

She kisses you then, messy and open-mouthed, tongue sliding into your mouth like she’s trying to pull the breath out of you, hands fisting in your hair. The kiss is wild, uncontrolled, full of leftover shudders as her body rides the aftershocks. She sucks on your tongue, then bites your bottom lip, hard enough to sting, pulling back with a look that’s pure wrecked satisfaction.

“Fuck—you’re not done yet,” she says, grinning breathless against your mouth.

Before you can even catch your breath, she gets off you, stands up and grabs your wrists, pulls you up with surprising strength, practically dragging you toward the desk nearby, knocking over a half-empty box of markers in her haste. They scatter across the floor, forgotten.

She hops up onto the edge of the desk, legs falling open wide, skirt bunched up around her hips, panties obscenely pulled aside. Her cunt is glistening, flushed, still twitching around nothing, and she leans back on her hands, spreading herself shamelessly for you, watching you with dark, lazy hunger.

“C’mere, baby,” she purrs, crooking a finger.

You step between her legs, hands automatically gripping the backs of her thighs, and she grabs your cock, still slick with her cum, throbbing painfully hard, and lines you up, dragging the flushed head along her soaked folds before nudging you right back in.

You don’t ease in. You shove.

Hard.

Her mouth drops open in a guttural, broken sound as you bottom out in one brutal thrust, your hips slamming flush against her ass, your cock stretching her already-sensitive pussy wide again. Her whole body jolts with it, legs wrapping around your waist tight, holding you there, buried deep.

“Fuck yes—” she gasps, nails digging into the edge of the desk for leverage. “God, you feel so fucking good—”

You grab her hips, fingers digging bruises into soft skin, and start pounding into her, desk creaking loudly under the assault. Every thrust drives a choked little noise from her throat, her small tits bouncing with the force of it, her hair falling wild around her flushed, wrecked face.

“You’re so good, baby,” she babbles between gasps, clinging to the desk as you fuck her raw. “You’re—god, you’re perfect—you’re gonna make me cum again if you keep—ahh—keep fucking me like that!”

You bare your teeth, thrusting harder, faster, hips snapping against her ass with every vicious stroke. The wet sound of you hammering into her fills the room, loud and filthy, the slap of your skin against hers echoing off the walls. Her head tips back, exposing the long line of her throat, and you can’t resist leaning down, biting at her neck, tasting the salt of her sweat on your tongue.

She’s trembling again already, thighs quaking against your hips, every muscle in her body winding tighter, tighter, tighter. Her hands scramble for you, clutching your hoodie, your shoulders, anything she can reach, mouth working helplessly like she wants to say something but can’t get the words out past the way you’re fucking her.

“Don’t stop—fuck—don’t stop, don’t stop—!” she wails, legs locking around you again, trapping you deep as you hammer into her without mercy.

Sohyun, hidden behind that narrow closet crack, can barely breathe. She closes her eyes, squeezes them shut so tight it hurts, but the sounds slip in anyway, wrapping around her like smoke, curling in her lungs until she’s drowning in it.

She hears you fucking Xinyu hard enough to shake the table. She hears the desperate slap of skin, the thick wet noises between her thighs, the broken little sobs and gasps you can’t hold back anymore. Every low moan you spill is another nail in her heart. Every grunt, every hitched breath, every whisper of "Fuck, you’re so tight," slices deeper, and she grips the shelf beside her to keep from making a sound, knuckles bone-white.

And you... you’re so far gone you don’t even notice the world outside the space between your bodies. Xinyu’s pussy is swallowing you, so wet you can hear it every time you thrust back in, obscene and filthy and perfect. She clings to you, arms around your shoulders, nails dragging trails of fire down your back as you rut into her harder, faster, chasing the edge you can feel roaring up your spine.

"Fuck—fuck, I’m close," you pant against her throat, voice wrecked, hips stuttering from the effort of holding back.

Xinyu shudders all around you, grinding her hips, milking you with every twist and clench of her desperate cunt. She grabs your face, kissing you hard, sloppy, messy with need, lips sliding against yours as she gasps:

"Cum for me, baby. Please. I want it—I want you to cum for me."

You groan deep in your chest, every muscle tightening, your hands flying down to her waist, grinding her harder onto your cock, feeling that tight, soaked pussy fluttering in urgent little spasms.

"I want it in my mouth," she whimpers into your ear. "Please. Let me taste you."

That snaps what little control you had. You pull out quick, almost shaking with the effort not to cum right then, and your cock slaps wetly against her folds, gliding in her slickness. You drag the thick, swollen head up her entrance, tease her clit with it, grinding, slapping your tip against her until she shivers and gasps, legs falling wide open, fingers clutching at the edge of the desk like she’s about to fly apart.

Your hand wraps tight around your slick cock, jerking it fast and desperate, smearing her juices all over yourself as you stroke. Xinyu drops immediately to her knees, eager, mouth open, eyes wide and hazy with lust. She grabs the base of your cock with one hand, stroking in rhythm with yours, her other hand cupping your balls, massaging them gently.

She looks up at you with that wicked grin just as she leans forward, wraps her lips around the head, and sucks. Hard. Heat and suction explode through you, and your hips jerk forward helplessly. She moans low in her throat, dragging her tongue along the underside of your cock as she bobs her head, saliva glistening at the corners of her mouth, dribbling down your shaft.

She works you like she’s starving for it, alternating between sucking you deep into her mouth and stroking with her fist, twisting just right. The sight of her—kneeling in front of you, cheeks hollowing, spit and slick glistening all over her chin—drives you wild.

Your balls tighten, your thighs tremble, and you grab her hair, trying to warn her, but she just groans in approval, mouth sliding lower, tongue lashing the sensitive underside of your cock.

"X-Xinyu, I’m—fuck, I’m gonna—"

She pulls back just enough to look up at you, lips wrapped tight around the tip, hand still jerking your slick cock, and she nods. Wants it. Wants it bad.

You grip her hair tight as your body locks up and you cum hard, first shot hitting the back of her throat. She doesn’t even flinch. Just hums around you, swallowing every thick, hot spurt, milking you with her mouth and hand as you pulse and shudder against her. Jet after jet, the orgasm tearing through you so violently your knees nearly buckle.

She keeps going until you’re spent, gently sucking the last drops from your twitching cock, then pulls back slowly with a wet pop. She kisses the tip, soft and almost reverent, tongue flicking lazily across it like she’s tasting her victory.

You lean back against the desk, heart hammering, chest heaving, body flushed and trembling.

She stands, fixing her panties between trembling thighs, smoothing down her skirt, picking up the top on the floor. Her cheeks are pink, her lips swollen, her hair wild—and she’s never looked more satisfied.

You fumble to tuck yourself back into your pants, fingers clumsy. Your mind’s fogged with the aftermath. Xinyu steps closer, hands sliding up your chest, resting lightly at your shoulders. Her eyes soften, her mouth tilts into something small and unsure. She looks nervous. That’s rare. She’s always so sure. So in control.

"Hey," she says. “I meant what I said last night, y’know.”

You blink, still trying to catch up. “What?”

She presses her forehead lightly to yours, her hands sliding down to hold your waist, grounding you.

"I’ve never met anyone like you," she says, slow, like she’s scared if she rushes it’ll shatter. “You’re not like the guys I’m used to. All the ones before—they were assholes. Hot, but... just bad news. Guys who wanted me but didn’t actually care about me.”

She leans back, searching your face, biting her lip.

"But you—you’re different. You’re real. You’re sweet. You listen. You treat me like I actually matter."

You swallow hard, heart tripping over itself. You weren’t ready for this. You didn’t expect this.

She smiles, small and nervous, and asks it before you can even think of something to say.

"I want you to be my boyfriend. For real. Like… properly mine. Will you?"

You stare at her—this beautiful, messy, fiery girl who just swallowed your cum like it was candy, who rode you like you were hers before the words ever left her mouth. And something inside you wrenches.

Because you should say yes.

You should want to say yes.

But all you can feel is that gnawing hesitation. That pull. That confusion. That whisper of another name, another face, someone standing just outside this moment, invisible and heavy in the space between your breaths.

Sohyun.

You think about her without meaning to. Think about the way she looks at you when she thinks you’re not paying attention. The way her hand lingers too long when she passes you something. The way she squeezed your hand that night when you invited her to the movies.

You don’t know what you feel. You don’t know what’s real yet. You’re drowning in it.

And it shows.

Xinyu’s face flickers—just for a second. That bright, hopeful light dimming when you hesitate too long.

"I..." You rub the back of your neck, avoiding her eyes. "I just... I need some time to think. Please."

The silence after that is awkward.

She steps back, schooling her face into something neutral, but you can see the crack underneath. The disappointment. The sting. She nods once, slow.

"Okay," she says, and her voice is tight. "Okay. Take your time."

You want to apologize. You want to say something to make it better. But nothing fits. Nothing fixes this.

She grabs her bag from the floor, brushes her hair back, pulls her walls up fast and neat like she’s practiced it a thousand times before.

"See you around," she says, almost breezy, almost real.

And then she’s gone, slipping out the door and leaving you standing there in the wreckage of what you almost had.

You stare at the empty space where she stood, heart pounding, stomach twisting.

You don’t see the faint sliver of movement behind the closet door.

You don’t see the way Sohyun presses her hand over her mouth, trying to keep the sound inside.

Because she heard it all.

And for the first time in weeks, she has hope.

A brutal, aching hope.

Because you didn’t say yes.

You didn’t choose someone else.

Not yet.

And maybe… there’s still a chance you’ll choose her.

—

You drag yourself up the stairs like your body’s filled with sand, the keys slipping in your sweaty palm as you jam them into the lock and stumble inside. The apartment lights are off except for the thin line of glow leaking out from under Sohyun’s bedroom door. You shut the door behind you with a quiet click, kicking your shoes off, backpack sliding down your shoulder and thudding against the floor. Your whole body aches. Not just from exhaustion but from the weight of everything swimming in your head; Xinyu’s kiss still burning on your mouth, her words still echoing under your skin, the guilt, the confusion, the stupid tangled mess you couldn’t figure out if you tried. You sigh, pressing your back to the door for a second, head tipped back, eyes squeezed shut like maybe if you stood still enough, long enough, the world would stop spinning.

You don't notice the shape in the corner until it moves, a small shift of shadow peeling itself away from the wall. Your eyes fly open, heart lurching into your throat. Sohyun’s there—leaning against the wall, arms crossed tight over her chest. Her face half-hidden by her hair, her body tensed up in a way that sets your nerves on edge instantly.

“Jesus—” you blurt, breath hitching from the scare. You try to laugh it off, give her a sheepish little grin even though your pulse is hammering. “You scared the hell outta me. I thought you were asleep.”

She doesn’t smile. Doesn’t even blink. Her eyes stay locked on yours, too still, too serious. It sends a ripple of unease down your spine.

“We need to talk,” she says, and her tone is wrong, lower, tighter, with a tremble hidden deep under the words that makes your stomach twist.

You straighten a little, stepping forward slowly like she’s a spooked animal you don’t want to startle. “What... what happened?” you ask.

She holds your gaze for a long moment. So long it starts to physically hurt, like she’s looking right through your skin, peeling you open piece by piece. You can see it in her eyes—fear, yes, but something else too. Something desperate, clawing at the edges of her.

“I know,” she finally says. “About you and Xinyu.”

You blink, mouth opening then closing uselessly, your brain scrambling to process it.

“How—” you start, but she cuts you off, shaking her head once, sharp and final.

“It doesn’t matter,” she says. “It doesn’t matter how I know.”

You’re thrown completely off balance now, stumbling for footing you don’t have. You shift awkwardly, running a hand through your hair, trying to piece together something—anything—to say.

“I was going to tell you,” you mumble finally, and it’s the lamest excuse you’ve ever heard even as it leaves your mouth. “I just... didn’t know how to bring it up.”

Her laugh is short and humorless, a little broken thing that cuts through you sharper than any shout could have. “You didn’t tell me,” she says, voice rising just a little, enough to make your throat close up. “You didn’t. You could have. So why didn’t you?”

You hesitate, weight shifting from foot to foot, wishing desperately for some door, some window, some hole to crawl into and disappear. But there’s no escape. There’s only her, standing there, waiting for your answer like it’s the only thing keeping her upright.

“I was scared,” you admit finally, the words thick in your throat. “I didn’t know what you’d think. I knew you’d disapprove. I knew you wouldn’t... approve of me and her.”

Her arms tighten around herself, nails digging into the sleeves of her sweatshirt. Her lips press together, trembling, and she looks down at the floor for a second.

“Why do you care so much what I think?” she asks, and her voice is small and raw, like she’s asking herself more than you.

You swallow hard. “I... I don’t know.”

But you do know. Somewhere deep down, you’ve always known. You’ve just never had the guts to admit it.

She lets the silence drag, heavy and awful between you. Then she looks up, and there’s something shattering in her eyes—it makes you want to cry.

“You’re right,” she says quietly. “I would have disapproved.”

You open your mouth to speak, to apologize again, but she cuts you off with a sharp shake of her head, eyes wet now, shining in the dim light.

“Do you want to know why?” she asks.

You nod, too scared to say anything.

“Because I love you,” she says, and it bursts out of her like a dam breaking, like she’s been holding it back for years and can’t anymore. “I love you, you idiot! I’ve loved you for so fucking long it hurts!”

You just stand there, stunned into uselessness, your heart hammering in your chest, your breath stuck somewhere between a gasp and a cry.

She wipes at her face with the sleeve of her sweatshirt, blinking furiously against the tears spilling down her cheeks. “I didn’t even realize at first,” she says, “I thought it was just... caring. Being protective. Wanting you to be okay. But it’s not. It’s not just that. I love you. I’m in love with you. And seeing you with her—hearing you moan for her, seeing you smile because of her—”

She breaks off, a choked sob punching out of her chest, and it shatters you.

“It tore me apart,” she whispers. “Because you’re the most special person that’s ever crossed my path. And I was too much of a coward to say anything. I just kept pretending it was fine. That it didn’t matter. That you didn’t matter that way.”

You move to step toward her, instinct taking over, but she flinches back half a step, and it feels like a knife between your ribs.

“I’m sorry,” you say, voice cracking. “I didn’t know, I didn’t—”

“No,” she cuts you off, shaking her head violently, tears flying. “Don’t apologize. It’s not your fault. It’s mine. It’s my fault for bottling it up, for being too scared to tell you, for letting you drift away while I just... watched. I did this to myself.”

You’re breathing too hard, chest aching, head spinning with too many emotions crashing into each other at once—guilt, sorrow, confusion, this desperate, aching affection for the girl standing in front of you with her heart bleeding out at your feet.

“Maybe it’s too late,” she says, crying. “Maybe you’re already hers. Maybe you’ve already moved on.”

She wipes her face again, sniffles, pulls herself together enough to look at you—really look at you.

“But I needed you to know. I needed you to know that someone loved you. That someone loves you. That someone would’ve given anything to make you happy.”

Your feet move before your brain catches up, drawn across the small space separating you like there's a magnetic pull you can't fight anymore. Her face is still wet, tears tracking clean lines through the faint flush on her cheeks, her eyes red-rimmed but locked on you with this terrifying vulnerability you've never seen before. She doesn't flinch this time when you get close, doesn't pull away, just watches you, chest rising and falling too fast, like she’s waiting for the final blow.

You lift your hand, fingers trembling slightly, and gently, so gently, brush the tears from her cheek with your thumb. The skin there is hot, damp. Real. She closes her eyes for just a second at the contact, a shuddering breath escaping her lips.

"Sohyun," you start, and your own throat feels tight, rough, like you’ve swallowed glass. "I'm... I'm so sorry." The words feel stupidly small, inadequate for the chasm that's opened up. "I'm the coward. Not you. Me. All this time... I never said anything because... fuck, because I was terrified. Scared I'd wreck everything. Our friendship, this... us. Everything we have. It felt too important to risk, you know? Too fragile. And I kept telling myself you deserved someone... better. Someone less screwed up than me. Someone confident, someone who had their shit together, not..." You gesture vaguely at yourself, at the mess you feel like you are, the mess you've made. "Not me." You see her lips part, ready to argue, maybe ready to forgive, maybe ready to yell again, but the words are tumbling out of you now, unstoppable, a confession mirroring hers, ripping free after being locked down for so long. "Don't," you whisper, cutting her off before she can speak. "Just... let me say this."

You take a shaky breath, meeting her wide, tear-bright eyes again. "It was always you, Sohyun. Always. Even when I didn't understand it, even when I tried to ignore it. You're the one I love." The words feel huge, terrifying, but also lighter than air once spoken. "Everything. I love everything. That little smirk you get when you win an argument? Love it. The way you wear those baggy sweatshirts every day but still manage to look... incredible? Love that too. How you always know when I'm having a shit day without me saying anything? How you just show up, make me tea, sit there in silence with me until it passes? How safe you make me feel, even when you're pretending to be annoyed?" Your own eyes are getting blurry now. "I love watching you sleep," you admit and, fuck, it's like breaking a chain, a secret you’ve guarded jealously. "Because you look so calm. Peaceful. And I can just... look. At your moles." A faint blush creeps up her neck, her gaze dropping for a second before snapping back to yours, confused, waiting. "You have four on your face, you know? Like a tiny constellation. There's one here," you reach out again, finger hovering below her eyes, not quite touching, "and here, by your nose... one on your cheek... they're the most charming damn things in the world. Seriously."

Her breath hitches, a soft little gasp. She looks utterly lost now, derailed from her pain by the specific, intimate detail. "My... moles?" she echoes, bewildered. You nod, a watery smile finally touching your lips.

"Yeah. My favorite, though? The one right here." Your gaze drops to her mouth, to the tiny, perfect dark mole on the curve of her lower lip. It's always drawn your eye, a little punctuation mark on skin that looks impossibly cute. "That one..." you murmur. "God, that one's made me wonder... so many times... what it would feel like to kiss you. What you'd taste like..."

You trail off, lost for a second in the thought, in the proximity, in the sudden, intense awareness of her mouth just inches from yours. You were going to say more, try to explain the tangle of fear and longing and the stupid, paralyzing certainty that you weren't good enough, but you don't get the chance.

Because Sohyun surges forward like something inside her finally snaps. One second she's trembling, broken open, the next she's pure force, her mouth crashing onto yours with bruising intensity. It's not gentle. It's not tentative. It's a raw, desperate claiming. Her lips are surprisingly soft beneath the force, tasting faintly of salt from her tears and something uniquely her, something warm and real that short-circuits your brain. Her hands fist in the front of your hoodie, yanking you closer, stumbling you backward. Your heel catches on the edge of the cheap living room rug, the world tilting sideways in a sudden, disorienting lurch. You gasp against her mouth, a startled sound swallowed by her kiss, and then you're falling, tumbling backward onto the floor with a muffled thud that knocks the wind out of you.

She lands right on top of you, straddling your hips, the impact solid and grounding even as your head spins. She doesn't miss a beat. Her mouth is still fused to yours, kissing you harder now, deeper, possessive. It's messy and frantic, teeth clashing slightly, tongues tangling with an urgency that borders on violence. Kisses that aren’t asking, they’re taking. Stealing the breath from your lungs, stealing the thoughts from your head, demanding a response you're suddenly, desperately eager to give. Her weight pressing you down, the heat of her body seeping through your clothes, the undeniable proof of her need right there against your stomach—it’s overwhelming. And then, finally, finally, your own arms come up, wrapping around her back, pulling her impossibly closer, and you kiss her back with all the pent-up fear and longing and stupid, crippling love you've kept locked away for years.

You meet her force with your own, tilting your head, deepening the kiss, letting the raw honesty of it burn away everything else. There’s no room for Xinyu, no room for doubt, no room for anything but this—Sohyun, her mouth on yours, her body pinning you down, the undeniable, explosive reality of now. The world outside the apartment fades to nothing, the only sound the ragged gasps for breath between frantic, open-mouthed kisses, the rustle of clothes, the frantic thudding of two hearts beating wildly against each other in the dim, quiet room. This isn't just a kiss; it's a collision, a confession answered, a point of no return you hadn't realized you were racing towards until you crashed right into it, tangled up with her on the floor like this is exactly where you were always supposed to end up.

After seconds that seem like hours, Sohyun finally breaks the kiss, pulling back just enough for air, her chest heaving against yours, eyes blown wide and dark, still glazed with disbelief and something fiercely possessive. Her hands frame your face, thumbs stroking your cheekbones like she’s trying to memorize you. "I love you," she whispers, the words thick, raw, tumbling out again like they can't be contained. Her forehead presses against yours. "God, I love you." She kisses you again, shorter this time, desperate, sealing the words. Pulls back. "I love you." Another kiss, harder. "So much." Each declaration feels like another layer stripped away, leaving her completely bare, completely yours in this moment. The fierce intensity shifts, softening just a fraction as the reality sinks in—you're here, you're kissing her back, you feel it too.

Your heart feels like it's going to beat right out of your chest. Hearing her say it, over and over, sinks hooks into places you didn't know were still empty. You shift beneath her, hands sliding up her back, fingers tracing the knobs of her spine through the worn fabric of her sweatshirt. "Sohyun," you breathe against her lips, needing to show her, needing her to feel it. You pull back just enough to look at her, really look, and then you start mapping her face with your mouth.

Soft, adoring kisses trail along her sharp jawline, up to the curve of her cheekbone where the skin is so soft it makes you ache. You kiss the corner of her eye, tasting the lingering salt of her tears, then move lower, pressing kisses against the pulse point throbbing wildly in her neck. She melts under the attention, a soft sigh escaping her, her body going pliant against yours, head tipping back to give you better access. Her hands slide from your face down to your shoulders, gripping tight, anchoring herself as you worship her skin. Every soft press of your lips feels like rewriting history, erasing the doubt and the distance, claiming this closeness that’s always simmered just beneath the surface.

"Hey," she murmurs, her breath catching when your lips find that sensitive spot just below her ear. She nudges you gently, reluctantly pulling away just enough to meet your eyes again. There's a new urgency there, a need that burns hotter than the confession. "My room," she says, her tone suddenly low, almost husky. "Let's go to my room. Now." She pushes herself up, scrambling off you with clumsy grace, and hauls you to your feet like you weigh nothing. You don't argue, don't hesitate. You follow her lead, stumbling towards her bedroom door, hands finding each other again, lips crashing together in the hallway, clumsy and desperate and necessary. You trip over the threshold, laughing breathlessly against her mouth as she practically drags you inside, kicking the door shut behind you with her heel.

The moment the door clicks, she's tearing at your clothes. Your hoodie comes off first, yanked over your head with frantic energy, tossed carelessly onto the floor. Her eyes rake over your bare chest for a beat, hungry, before she crashes back into you, kissing you with renewed fervor. Her hands are everywhere, exploring the lines of your shoulders, the dip of your collarbones, fingers tracing patterns that make your skin prickle. While her mouth works yours, her own hands go to the waistband of her shorts—those stupidly comfortable grey jersey shorts she always wears around the apartment. She hooks her thumbs in, shoves them down her legs in one hurried motion, kicking them free. She's left in just her oversized sweatshirt and a pair of simple, pale blue cotton panties that hug the curve of her hips. You groan against her lips, the sight hitting you harder than you expected. Her thighs look so strong, so soft.

You deepen the kiss, angling her back against the wall, one hand sliding down her spine, curving possessively over the swell of her ass through the thin cotton of her panties. You squeeze gently, experimentally, and she gasps into your mouth, hips instinctively bucking against yours. "Fuck," she breathes against your lips, her hands fisting in your t-shirt now. "Yes. Need you. So much."

Her admission is raw, desperate, stripping away the last vestiges of her usual guardedness. It fuels you, ignites something fierce inside you. You break the kiss long enough to grab the hem of her sweatshirt, pulling it up and over her head just as she did yours. It snags for a second on her messy bun, and you both fumble with it, laughing brokenly before it finally comes free. And underneath… nothing. No bra. Just Sohyun. Her breasts are fuller than you’d imagined, heavier than Xinyu’s, round and pale with darker, pinkish-brown nipples already pebbled tight from the cool air or maybe just the sheer intensity of the moment. They're beautiful. Perfect. Yours.

She looks down at herself for a second, a flicker of self-consciousness crossing her face before defiant heat replaces it. Your eyes meet hers, a silent question asked and answered. You scoop her up—she's surprisingly light—and carry her the few steps to her bed, tumbling down onto the soft duvet with her. The landing is messy, tangled limbs and breathless laughter, before you settle, half-propped over her, the reality of her bare skin under your hands making your head swim. You kiss her again, slower this time, softer, trying to pour all the unsaid years of affection into it. Her hands come up to cup your face, fingers tracing your jawline, her eyes searching yours.

Then your focus shifts. Your gaze drops to her chest, to the soft rise and fall of her breathing. You lean down, pressing a soft kiss to the valley between her breasts, then lower your head further. One hand gently cups the soft weight of her left breast, thumb stroking the peak, feeling it harden instantly under your touch. At the same time, your mouth closes over her right nipple.

Sohyun arches off the bed with a sharp, choked cry, fingers digging into your shoulders. The sound is pure, unfiltered pleasure, and it sends a shockwave straight to your groin. You suck gently at first, teasing, swirling your tongue around the sensitive peak before drawing it deeper into the heat of your mouth.

She moans again, a long, low sound vibrating up from her chest. "Oh god... yes... fuck, that feels..." You lave the nipple, licking slow circles around the darker areola, mapping the texture with your tongue, before nibbling gently with your teeth. She whimpers, hips twitching restlessly on the mattress. "So good... oh, fuck, yes, right there... I always... always imagined..." Her sentence dissolves into another shuddering moan as you switch sides, giving the other breast the same devoted attention, sucking and licking and teasing until she's writhing beneath you. "You're perfect," you murmur against her wet skin between ministrations. "So fucking beautiful, Sohyun. Always."

Her eyes are glassy, pupils dilated, lips parted and slick. She looks completely undone, vulnerable in a way that makes your chest ache with tenderness and a fierce, protective desire. You trail kisses lower, down the soft curve of her stomach, your lips brushing the faint indentation of her navel. Your hand follows, palm smoothing over the warm skin, feeling the tremors running through her. Your journey stops at the waistband of her panties. Simple blue cotton, dampening noticeably at the center. The sight, the proof of her arousal, makes your own cock strain painfully against your jeans. You press a soft kiss to the damp fabric right over her mound, inhaling her scent—musky, female, intoxicating. She gasps, thighs clenching instinctively. You nudge her legs apart gently with your head, trailing feather-light kisses along the inside of her thigh, right near the edge of the fabric. The skin there is incredibly soft, sensitive. She shivers violently, a choked sound escaping her. "Please..." she whispers, unsure what she's even asking for, just knowing she needs more.

You kiss the wet patch on her panties again, letting your tongue flick out just enough to taste the dampness through the cotton. She cries out, a sharp, high sound, hips lifting slightly off the bed. You look up at her, see the flush creeping down her neck, the desperate wanting in her eyes. Slowly, deliberately, you hook your thumbs into the sides of her panties and slide them down. Over the curve of her hips, down her strong, thick thighs, catching slightly at her knees before you pull them free and toss them aside. She lies bare beneath you now, exposed, vulnerable, beautiful. Her pussy is slick, glistening, her folds plump and flushed, dark curls slightly damp. You lean down, pressing a reverent kiss to her mound, right above her clit. She lets out a strangled sob, hands flying down to fist in her own duvet. She looks wrecked, overwhelmed, needy. "Will you...?" she starts, her breath hitching. "Can I...? Please, just... sit on your face? Let me... I need you to eat me. Please." You lean closer, lips brushing her slick folds as you answer:

"Baby, that's all I fucking want.”

You don't even hesitate. You scramble backwards on the bed, shuffling until you're lying flat, head propped slightly against her pillows—pillows that smell like her shampoo and sleep. Your heart is a frantic drum against your ribs, anticipation coiling tight and low in your belly. This. This it's something you've barely let yourself fantasize about, a scenario tucked away in the darkest, neediest corners of your mind—Sohyun, taking control, overwhelming you. Being completely at her mercy. The thought alone makes your cock throb against the zipper of your jeans, a painful, demanding pressure.

You look up as she moves, crawling towards you on the bed, her expression a mixture of raw hunger and something almost like nervous determination. She straddles your chest first, knees settling on either side of your ribs, leaning down to capture your mouth in another deep, searching kiss. Her bare breasts press against your chest, warm and heavy, the peaks hard against the fabric.

"You really want this?" she whispers against your lips, pulling back just enough to search your eyes. Her own gaze is intense, burning with a need that mirrors yours.

"Fuck, yes, Sohyun," you breathe, hands coming up to grip her waist, fingers digging slightly into the soft skin there. "More than anything. Please."

A slow, predatory smile spreads across her face, chasing away the last remnants of uncertainty. This is happening. She shifts, maneuvering herself with surprising grace, turning until she's straddling your head, her bare ass hovering right above your face. The sight is dizzying—the soft curve of her cheeks, the dark curls nestled between her thighs, the glisten of her wetness catching the dim light filtering in from the hallway. It's everything. You reach up, hands sliding up her strong thighs, thumbs brushing the sensitive inner skin. She shivers, letting out a soft gasp.

"God, yes... touch me," she pleads, her hips twitching.

You guide her down slowly, agonizingly slowly, until her slick folds brush against your lips. The scent hits you full force—musky, feminine, intoxicatingly Sohyun. It’s the smell of pure arousal, sharp and sweet, and it makes your head swim. This is your dream, isn't it? To be right here, underneath her, ready to worship, ready to be completely consumed by her pleasure. The idea of being dominated, smothered by the wet heat of her pussy, of her coming undone completely at your mercy while simultaneously holding all the power… It sends a jolt of pure, filthy need straight through you.

"Ready for you," you murmur against her skin, tilting your head slightly to get a better angle.

She lets out a shaky breath and lowers herself fully, settling onto your mouth with a soft sigh. The pressure is immediate, the heat shocking. Her wet folds engulf your lips, your nose, pressing intimately against your face. It’s almost too much: the closeness, the scent, the slick reality of her cunt right there. You take your first real taste, tongue darting out tentatively, exploring the plump outer lips, tracing the slick crease.

Sohyun gasps sharply, her whole body tensing. "Fuck... yes..."

Emboldened, you dive in properly. Your tongue pushes past her outer lips, finding the slick, sensitive inner folds, licking slowly, deliberately. You map her shape, tasting the unique flavor of her arousal—salty, sweet, utterly addictive. You find her clit, that hard little nub hidden beneath its hood, and swirl your tongue around it gently at first.

"Oh my god," she whimpers, fingers tangling violently in your hair, gripping tight but not pulling you away. "Right there... don't stop..."

You obey instantly, focusing your attention, sucking the sensitive bud into your mouth, worrying it gently with your lips and tongue. Her reaction is immediate, explosive. Her hips buck against your face, grinding down instinctively, seeking more pressure, more friction.

"Fuck, yes! Like that! Suck it harder!" she cries out, her earlier shyness completely incinerated by raw need. "God, you taste so fucking good... eat me like you mean it!"

You groan into her cunt, spurred on by her dirty talk, by the sheer intensity radiating off her. You suck harder, drawing more of her into your mouth, tongue working relentlessly on her clit while your lips provide constant pressure against her swollen folds. Her slickness coats your tongue, your lips, your chin, slicking the skin, making every movement smoother, hotter. She’s so wet, dripping onto your face, the taste of her flooding your senses. You love it. You fucking crave it. The feeling of being covered in her, drowned in her essence.

"That's it, baby," she pants, her hips starting to move in a slow, deliberate rhythm against your mouth. "Fuck, you're so good at this... Did you practice on someone else? Don't fucking answer that," she gasps out, contradicting herself immediately, lost in the sensation. "Just keep doing that. Lick me. Suck my clit like it's the only thing you care about."

"It is," you manage to mumble against her, tongue never faltering. "Only thing... right now... is you. Making you feel good, Sohyun."

Her hips stutter, a broken little sob escaping her lips. "Fuck... you saying my name like that... while you're... down there... God..."

She starts to ride you then, taking control just like she asked, just like you fantasized. Her movements are slow at first, tentative, testing the pressure, learning how to grind against your mouth for maximum effect. Her thighs tighten around your head, trapping you, holding you exactly where she wants you. The feeling of suffocation is mild at first, just the intimate pressure, the heat, the wetness sealing against your skin. But as her pace quickens, as she gets lost in the building pleasure, she presses down harder, her cunt engulfing your nose and mouth more fully. Your breathing gets shallower, restricted, but you don't panic. This is part of it. This surrender. Giving her everything, even your breath, if that's what it takes to push her over the edge.

"Oh god... oh fuck," she moans, the sounds deeper now, throatier. "It's building... fuck, don't stop... keep sucking... harder!"

You oblige, mouth working frantically now, sucking and licking with desperate abandon, chasing her orgasm alongside her. Her pussy clenches around your tongue, milking it, the muscles fluttering uncontrollably. She’s grinding faster now, rocking her hips with frantic energy, her breath coming in short, sharp gasps. The pressure increases. Her cunt presses down hard, sealing over your mouth, your nose, the wet heat almost overwhelming. You can barely draw breath, getting only small, desperate sips of air mixed with the heavy scent of her arousal. But the lack of oxygen just fuels the fire, heightens the sensation, pushes you closer to a different kind of edge. You feel utterly possessed by her, consumed.

"Almost there... almost... FUCK!" she screams, her body locking up.

Her hips slam down hard onto your face, grinding relentlessly, muffling your own groan of effort and ecstasy. Her inner walls spasm violently around your tongue, flooding your mouth with a thick, hot gush of her climax. The taste is intense, salty-sweet, addictive, unique. You swallow instinctively, greedily, taking all of it, wanting every last drop. She collapses forward, boneless, her full weight pressing your face into the mattress, her slick cunt still pulsing against your mouth as the aftershocks ripple through her. You're completely enveloped, blinded, breathless beneath her, tasting her release, utterly dominated.

She stays there for long moments, just panting, trembling. You lie still beneath her, heart hammering, face sticky and wet, utterly spent from the intensity of giving her that pleasure. Finally, slowly, she pushes herself up, bracing her hands on the mattress on either side of your head. Her hair is wild, sticking to her flushed cheeks, her lips swollen and red, her eyes dazed and unfocused but gleaming with a deep, sated satisfaction. She looks down at you, at your slick-covered face, and a slow, knowing smirk touches her lips.

"Wow," she breathes. "You... you really did it."

You manage a weak grin, licking your lips, tasting her. "Told you," you rasp. "Anything for you."

She leans down, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to your forehead, then your cheek, then finally your mouth, her kiss still tasting faintly of herself. It's intimate, proprietary. A claiming.

"Good," she murmurs against your lips. "Because we're not done yet. Not even close." Her eyes darken again, that possessive fire rekindling. "My turn to taste you.”

Sohyun pushes herself up fully, kneeling between your legs on the mattress. Her eyes, still hazy from her orgasm but sharp with renewed intent, roam over your face, lingering on your kiss-swollen lips and the faint marks she left on your neck. A possessive satisfaction flickers there. She reaches down, her hands landing on the button of your jeans. Her knuckles brush against the hard ridge straining behind the denim, and she lets out a low, appreciative hum.

"My turn," she murmurs, her gaze locking with yours. "Been wanting to do this for way too long. Way, way too long."

Her fingers work the button free with surprising dexterity, then move to the zipper, pulling it down with a slow, deliberate rasp that echoes loudly in the quiet room. She doesn't just yank your jeans off. She takes her time, hooking her fingers into the waistband, easing the stiff denim down over your hips, her touch feather-light against your skin. You lift your hips instinctively to help her. Your jeans slide down your legs, pooling around your ankles. You're left in just your boxers—boxers that are doing absolutely nothing to hide the thick, hard length straining beneath the fabric.

Sohyun pauses, her eyes fixed on the prominent bulge. She reaches out, tracing the rigid shape through the thin cotton with one curious finger. You twitch involuntarily, a low groan rumbling in your chest.

"Fuck," she breathes, a note of genuine awe creeping in. "I knew... I mean, I saw... before..." She glances up at you quickly, a faint blush rising on her cheeks as she remembers that moment in the club room closet, the stolen, frantic glimpse. "But seeing it like... this... Jesus."

Her gaze drops back down, captivated. She hooks her thumbs into the elastic waistband of your boxers and slowly, reverently, peels them down. Down past your hip bones, down your thighs, revealing you completely. Your cock springs free, thick and heavy, slick already with beads of pre-cum glistening under the dim light. It's undeniably large, thick-shafted, maybe even surprisingly so given your usually reserved, almost nerdy demeanor. It pulses slightly with your heartbeat, utterly exposed under her intense scrutiny.

Sohyun just stares for a long moment, her mouth slightly parted. Her eyes widen almost imperceptibly. This isn't like the frantic, hidden view she got before. This is up close, personal, undeniable. The sheer size and thickness of you, fully hard and demanding attention, seems to momentarily short-circuit her brain. She reaches out again, hand hovering just above you, like she's afraid to touch, afraid it might disappear.

"It's... perfect," she whispers. "God, it's so... much. And it's really... mine? Right now?"

"Yes," you manage, your throat tight. "All yours, Sohyun. Please. Touch me."

That breaks the spell. Her hesitation vanishes, replaced by a focused intensity that makes your stomach clench. She leans down, her hair falling forward, tickling your stomach as she lowers her face towards your cock. She doesn't grab it right away. Instead, she inhales deeply, breathing in your scent, her eyes fluttering closed for a second. Then, she presses a soft, tentative kiss right to the swollen, pulsing head. It’s a kiss of reverence, almost worshipful. She kisses it again, lingering, her lips incredibly soft against the sensitive skin. Then she trails kisses down the thick shaft, her warm breath ghosting over you, making you shiver uncontrollably. Her tongue darts out, tasting the slick bead of pre-cum at the tip, humming her approval deep in her throat.

"Mmm," she murmurs against your skin. "Taste good... smell good... God, you feel so hard."

She cups your balls gently in one hand, her touch surprisingly confident, weighing them, stroking the sensitive skin underneath with her thumb. You groan, hips lifting slightly off the mattress, needing more. Her other hand finally closes around the base of your shaft, her fingers wrapping snugly around the thick circumference. Her grip is firm, warm, possessive. She strokes you once, slowly, from base to head, watching your reaction with hungry eyes.

"You like that?" she asks. "Like me touching you? Holding your big, thick cock?"

"Fuck, yes," you gasp out, already close to losing it just from her touch, her words. "Please, Sohyun..."

"Shhh," she soothes, leaning down again. "Let me take care of you. Let me worship this perfect cock. You deserve it."

She starts by licking. Long, slow, wet laps all the way up the shaft, starting from the base where her fingers are wrapped tight, swirling around the thick ridge of the head, paying special attention to the sensitive slit at the very tip. Her tongue is relentless, mapping every vein, every inch, savoring the texture, the taste. She licks your balls too, darting her tongue out to trace the seam, making you gasp and buck beneath her. She seems fascinated, utterly absorbed in the act of adoration, like she's discovering a hidden treasure she can't get enough of. She alternates between licking and kissing, pressing open-mouthed kisses against the throbbing veins, occasionally taking just the very head between her lips, sucking gently, experimentally.

"So pretty," she mumbles against you, her breath hot. "So fucking hard for me. You feel so good in my hand... so heavy..."

She gathers your balls more firmly, lifting them slightly as she lowers her mouth over the head of your cock again. This time, she means business. Her lips seal tight, creating a wet suction that steals your breath. She starts to suck, slowly at first, adjusting her jaw, learning the shape and feel of you in her mouth. Her cheeks hollow slightly with the effort, her eyes fixed on yours, watching your reaction, feeding off the strangled noises clawing their way up your throat. She moans around you, a deep, guttural sound of pure pleasure—hers and yours.

"Mmmmph... fuck... so thick," she manages around you, pulling back slightly before sliding down again, taking you deeper this time.

Her pace picks up, her head starting to bob more rhythmically. She uses her hand in tandem, stroking the lower half of your shaft while her mouth works the upper half, creating an unbearable friction, a slick heat that threatens to make you explode. Her tongue works magic inside her mouth, swirling around the head, flicking against the frenulum, driving you absolutely insane. Saliva spills from the corners of her mouth, mixing with your pre-cum, coating your cock in a thick, slippery sheen. She doesn't seem to care about the mess; she seems to revel in it, smearing the wetness down your shaft with her hand, slicking up your balls until they shine.

"Drooling all over you," she gasps, pulling off for a second to look at her handiwork, eyes glazed with lust. "God, look how wet I'm making you... covering your pretty cock in my spit... you like that, baby? Like being my messy boy?"

"Yes," you choke out, nodding frantically, hands fisting in the duvet beside you. "Fuck, Sohyun, please... don't stop..."

"Never," she promises, diving back down, sucking you deeper than before, her throat muscles working as she takes as much of you as she can.

She alternates speeds, sometimes sucking slow and deep, milking you, other times bobbing her head frantically, her hair whipping against your thighs, her lips and tongue working you over with relentless abandon. She cradles your balls constantly, rubbing, squeezing gently, rolling them between her fingers, ensuring no part of you is neglected. The sounds are incredibly hot—the wet sucking noises, her low moans, your own choked gasps and pleas. She's not just giving you a blowjob; she's pouring all her love, all her pent-up longing, all her newly unleashed desire into worshiping you, pleasuring you, claiming you.

"You feel so good in my mouth," she pants, slicking her lips. "Best cock I've ever tasted... fuck, I wanna swallow you whole..."

She picks up the pace again, sensing you getting closer, her hand pumping furiously at the base while her mouth works magic on the head. Your hips are bucking off the bed now, completely involuntary, chasing the friction, begging for release. Your balls are drawn up tight, the pressure building unbearably.

"Sohyun... Sohyun, I'm gonna..." you gasp, vision starting to blur at the edges.

She hums, a deep vibration against your shaft, and pulls back just slightly, letting her lips drag slowly, wetly, all the way up to the tip. She kisses the head one last time, her tongue darting out to catch a final bead of slickness. She looks up at you, eyes dark and heavy-lidded, a satisfied smirk playing on her spit-slick lips. Your cock is practically vibrating in her hand, flushed, aching, coated in her saliva, impossibly hard, utterly ready.

"Good," she breathes, her gaze flicking down at your cock, then back to your eyes. "Keep it just like that for me. Hard and ready. Because now... now I need you inside me.”

Sohyun levers herself up, straddling your hips now instead of your face. Her knees press into the mattress on either side of you, boxing you in. Her gaze is locked on your cock, still hard and glistening, twitching slightly in anticipation. She reaches down, wrapping her fingers around the thick shaft again, her touch possessive, almost proprietary now. She strokes you slowly, deliberately, watching the way your hips lift instinctively off the bed, chasing her touch. A dark, satisfied smile curves her lips. She looks powerful like this, kneeling over you, naked from the waist down, her hair a wild halo around her flushed face, her breasts full and bare, nipples still tight and dark from your attention. The dynamic has shifted entirely. She's in control, and she knows it. And fuck, you love it.

"God, Sohyun," you gasp out, the words shaky. "I've... I've thought about this. So many times."

Her eyes flick up to meet yours, questioning, curious.

"About you," you clarify, needing her to understand. "About you being like this. On top of me. Taking charge. Riding me... dominating me..." The confession feels scandalous, ripped from the deepest, most submissive part of you, but seeing her like this, strong, determined, radiating need, makes it impossible to hold back.

A slow, understanding heat dawns in her eyes, chasing away any lingering shyness. She leans down slightly, bracing one hand on your chest, her thumb brushing your nipple through your t-shirt, making you jolt.

"Yeah?" she murmurs. "Funny. Me too."

Your breath catches. "You... you have?"

She nods, her smile turning wicked. "Oh, yeah. More times than I can count. Thinking about this..." She squeezes your cock gently, making you groan. "...this perfect, thick cock sliding inside me. Stretching me out. Filling me up." She leans closer, her lips brushing your ear. "I might have... borrowed one of your pillows a few times. When you were out late. Pretended it was you I was riding." Her confession is a hot whisper against your skin. "Imagined you were balls-deep inside me while I rode it until I came."

The image—Sohyun, alone in her room, desperate for you, grinding on your pillow—is almost too much. It makes your cock pulse painfully hard in her grip.

"Fuck, Sohyun," you choke out. "Tell me... tell me what you want."

"You," she says simply, fiercely. She lets go of you for a second, putting the panties aside. She guides the thick, wet head of your cock to her entrance, her own slickness making the contact incredibly slippery, incredibly hot. She looks down, watching intently as she aligns herself. "I want you. Inside me. Now."

With excruciating slowness, she begins to lower herself onto you. You feel the head of your cock nudge against her tight entrance, feel her slick folds parting, stretching. She gasps sharply, her eyes squeezing shut for a second as the thick ridge pushes past her outer lips, beginning to invade her.

"Oh my god... fuck..." she breathes, her hands gripping your shoulders tight enough to leave marks. "You're so... big..."

She sinks lower, inch by agonizing inch, taking you deeper. Her pussy feels incredible; impossibly tight, hot and slick and welcoming. The feeling of a body claiming something it’s desperately wanted for far too long. You groan deep in your chest, hands coming up to grip her hips, steadying her, steadying yourself. You can feel every internal ripple, every clench of her muscles as she takes you all the way down, settling onto your cock until you're buried to the hilt inside her.

She sits there for a long moment, just breathing hard, letting her body adjust to the thick invasion, letting you feel the sheer, glorious fullness of being completely sheathed inside her. Her head is tipped back, exposing the long, vulnerable line of her throat, her expression a mixture of intense pleasure and almost unbearable sensation.

"Fuck," she sighs out, a long, shuddering sound. "Just... feeling you stretching me out... God, it's..."

"Amazing?" you supply.

She nods mutely, eyes still closed, biting her lower lip. Then, slowly, she begins to move. Just a small lift of her hips, dragging your cock almost out before sinking back down again with agonizing slowness. The friction is electric, making your toes curl.

"Like that?" she whispers, eyes fluttering open to meet yours.

"Yes," you gasp. "Fuck, yes. More."

She starts to ride you properly then, finding a rhythm. Slow and deep at first, her hips rolling deliberately, learning your shape inside her, learning how to angle herself to hit just the right spots. Her hands rest on your chest, fingers splayed, feeling your heartbeat hammer against her palms. With every downward slide, her tight channel grips you, massages you, threatens your control. With every upward pull, the sensation of dragging your thick head along her sensitive walls makes you groan aloud. Her breasts sway gently with the motion.

"Mmmm... god, you feel so good," she murmurs, her hips picking up the pace slightly. "So fucking thick inside me... filling me up completely..."

She rides you with a growing confidence, her movements becoming bolder, faster. She shifts her weight, grinding down harder, experimenting with angles, a low moan escaping her lips every time she hits a particularly good spot. Sweat begins to bead on her forehead, plastering strands of dark hair to her temples. Her cheeks are flushed a deep pink, her lips parted as she pants for breath. She looks wild, primal, completely lost in the act of taking you, claiming you.

"Fuck, Sohyun, you feel incredible," you gasp out, hands tightening on her hips, tilting her slightly to drive yourself even deeper. "So tight... so wet..."

"Yeah?" she pants, a triumphant grin flashing across her face. "Like this? You like how I ride you?" She increases the pace again, hips pumping faster now, slamming down onto your cock with deliberate force. Her breasts bounce more vigorously, the sight mesmerizing. "You like watching my tits bounce while I fuck your cock?"

"Yes! Fuck, yes!" you cry out, completely overwhelmed by the sight, the sound, the feeling of her riding you with such abandon.

She leans forward, bracing her hands on your shoulders, riding you harder, faster, moving into a frantic, desperate rhythm. The bed starts to shake beneath you, the only sounds the wet slap of her pussy gripping your cock, her ragged pants, your answering groans. This is frenzy. Pure, raw, unadulterated need pouring out of her as she fucks you, possessively, relentlessly. Her eyes are locked on yours, fierce and unwavering, like she's daring you to look away, daring you to think of anyone else.

"Am I...?" she gasps out between frantic thrusts, her stare pinning you down. "Am I better? Better than her?"

There’s no coyness, no game-playing like Xinyu. Just raw insecurity wrapped in fierce possessiveness. She needs to know. Needs the validation. Needs to erase the ghost of the other girl.

You meet her intense gaze without flinching, hands gripping her waist tight, pulling her down harder onto your next upward thrust.

"Yes," you say, the word ripped from your throat, raw with conviction. "Fuck, yes, Sohyun. So much better. No comparison. It's always been you. Only you."

The confirmation—that she’s better, that it’s only her—fuels Sohyun like high-octane gasoline. The frantic energy shifts, solidifying into something harder, more deliberate, more dominant. She rides you with a vengeance now, hips slamming down onto your cock, grinding her clit against your pubic bone with every brutal downward thrust. Her pace is relentless, punishing, her body slick with sweat, moving like she’s trying to fuck you right through the mattress. The wet, slapping sounds fill the room, obscene and rhythmic.

"Fuck yes," she pants, head thrown back again, eyes half-lidded with ecstasy. "That's what I needed to hear. Needed you to say it." She leans forward, bracing her hands on your shoulders again, her stare burning into you. "Now give me more. Don't just lie there like a fucking doll. Touch me. Own me."

Her demand sparks through you, overriding the pleasant haze of submission. Your hands fly up to her breasts, cupping the heavy, sweat-slicked weight. They feel incredible, full and responsive. You squeeze them firmly, kneading the soft flesh, thumbs finding her nipples, still hard, aching pebbles, and rolling them roughly between your fingers.

"Ah! Fuck—yes!" Sohyun cries out, her hips stuttering in their rhythm for a beat before slamming down even harder. "Like that! Squeeze them harder! Play with my nipples while I ride your cock! Make them sore! Fuck, yes!"

You obey instantly, pinching and tweaking her nipples, pulling gently, rewarded by her sharp gasps and the way her pussy clenches impossibly tighter around your shaft. She grinds down onto you, moaning your name, lost in the dual sensations. She rides you like she owns you, like she’s branding you with every slam of her hips, every tight clench of her cunt.

Then, her eyes snap fully open, locking onto yours with a terrifying, desperate intensity. The frantic pace slows just slightly, becoming more deliberate, each thrust deeper, more meaningful.

"I need you to come," she says, her tone leaving no room for argument. "Now. Inside me."

You falter for a second, your hands stilling on her breasts. "Sohyun... wait, are you serious? We didn't... I don't have..."

"I don't fucking care!" she cuts you off, her voice raw, almost frantic. She grips your shoulders tighter, leaning down until her face is inches from yours, her breath hot and ragged against your lips. "I don't care about condoms. I don't care about anything! I need it! I need you to fill me up. Mark me. Make me yours, understand? Breed me. Right now. Cum deep inside my pussy."

Your brain whites out for a second. Breed her. The words, the raw need behind them, the sheer possessive desperation—it hits you like a physical blow, igniting a primal heat deep in your gut you didn't know existed. The idea of planting your seed deep inside her, claiming her womb…

"Fuck, Sohyun," you choke out, overwhelmed.

"Yes!" she urges, her eyes blazing. "Every day. I want you filling me up like this every single day. This pussy?" She grinds down hard, milking a groan from you. "It's yours. Only yours. No one else ever gets to touch it. No one else gets to fuck it. No one else gets to breed it. Only you. Promise me!"

"I promise," you gasp, the words ripped from you without thought, only instinct. "Only you, Sohyun. Always."

"Good," she pants, a wild, triumphant grin spreading across her face. She throws her head back again and starts riding you with renewed, almost violent frenzy. "Fuck yes! Breed your girl! Fill my womb up with your cum! Make me swell up with it! I want your baby! Fuck, put your baby inside me now!"

Every filthy word, every desperate demand, every slam of her wet cunt onto your aching cock drives you closer and closer to the edge. The friction is unbearable, her walls clenching and milking you, her words painting pictures in your head that are setting your nerves on fire. You can feel your own climax rushing towards you now, unstoppable, a tidal wave building behind your balls.

"I'm gonna... oh god, Sohyun, I'm so close!" you cry out, hips bucking up wildly beneath her.

"Me too! Fuck, yes, me too!" she screams back. "Cum with me! Cum inside me! Breed me! Breed me now!"

She rides you faster, harder, a desperate, frantic pounding as you both chase the peak. Her moans turn into high-pitched keening sounds, her body trembling violently. You feel the tell-tale clenching deep inside her, the spasms starting just as your own orgasm rips through you.

"FUCK! SOHYUN!" you roar, your body locking up as you explode deep inside her.

Hot, thick ropes of your cum pump into her womb, filling her, coating her insides just like she demanded. You feel her pussy clench violently around your cock, milking every last drop out of you, her own orgasm crashing over her in wave after wave. She continues to ride you even as you both come, slamming down onto your still-pulsing cock, drawing out the very last shuddering spurts, her own cries echoing yours in the small room. The intensity is blinding, shattering. Your eyes roll back in your head, vision whitening out completely as the pleasure finally crests and breaks, leaving you utterly spent, trembling, muscles twitching.

Sohyun collapses forward onto your chest, boneless, her breath coming in ragged, sobbing gasps against your sweat-slick skin. Her weight is heavy, comforting, grounding. You can feel the frantic thudding of her heart against yours, feel the faint, lingering pulses deep inside her where you just emptied yourself. You wrap your arms around her trembling body, holding her tight, burying your face in her damp hair, inhaling her scent. Neither of you speaks for a long time, just clinging to each other in the aftermath, adrift in the wreckage of shared pleasure, bound together by the intensity of what just happened.

The silence stretches, filled only by the sound of two bodies recovering, hearts gradually slowing from their frantic race. Finally, she lifts her head slightly, just enough to meet your eyes. Her expression is soft, unguarded, the fierce possessiveness momentarily banked by sated exhaustion and something that looks overwhelmingly like love.

"I love you," she whispers, the words quiet but solid, no desperation this time, just simple, profound truth.

Your chest aches with the force of your own feelings, a wave of tenderness washing over you, so potent it almost hurts. You lift a hand, brushing damp strands of hair from her forehead, your thumb tracing the curve of her eyebrow.

"I love you too, Sohyun," you murmur, the words feeling more real, more right than anything you've ever said. "So fucking much."

A slow, beautiful smile spreads across her face, reaching her eyes, making them shine. She leans down, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to your lips. It’s different from the frantic, claiming kisses before—this one is slow, sweet, full of affection and the dizzying relief of finally being here, together, like this. You kiss her back gently, pouring all your affection into it, letting the kiss deepen naturally, tongues tangling lazily, exploring rediscovered territory. You stay like that for a long while, just kissing, holding each other, limbs tangled, the sticky evidence of your climax cooling between her legs and inside her. The world outside her bedroom ceases to exist; there's only the warmth of her skin, the taste of her mouth, the steady beat of her heart against yours.

But even as you drift in the peaceful afterglow, your body betrays you. Deep inside her, nestled snugly in her tight, creamy pussy, your cock gives an involuntary throb. It’s still undeniably hard, thick and heavy within her, nowhere near satisfied despite the intensity of your release. Sohyun stills, her eyes widening slightly as she feels the distinct pulse deep inside her cunt. She shifts her hips experimentally, just a tiny grind, and gasps softly as your cock throbs again in response, pressing against her sensitive inner walls. She pulls back slightly, looking down between your bodies, then up at your face with bewildered amusement.

"Seriously?" she asks, one eyebrow arching. "How the hell are you still hard? I thought I killed you."

You let out a shaky laugh, tightening your arms around her waist. "Guess not." You shift your hips slightly, letting her feel the solid length still buried inside her. "It's you, Sohyun. You drive me fucking crazy. Always have."

A pleased, almost smug flush creeps up her neck. "Yeah?"

"Yeah," you confirm, grinning. "Seeing you like this... hearing you... knowing you want me this bad..." You shake your head. "It does things to me."

Her smile turns predatory again, that dominant spark reigniting in her eyes. "Good." She leans down, whispering against your ear, "Because I'm not done with you yet." But before she can reclaim control entirely, a surge of boldness rises in you.

"Neither am I," you murmur, and with a surge of strength you didn't know you possessed, you roll her over.

She lets out a surprised yelp as you maneuver her beneath you, ending up positioned between her legs in the classic missionary pose. The sudden shift in dynamic makes her blink, but she doesn't fight it. Instead, a curious, excited glint enters her eyes. You brace your hands on either side of her head, leaning down to capture her mouth in another deep kiss, taking charge this time, setting the pace. Your cock slides almost fully out during the roll before you sink back into her with one smooth, deep thrust.

"Fuck!" she cries out, back arching off the bed as you fill her again. "Oh my god, that feels..."

Her pussy is impossibly sensitive now, slick and creamy with the mixture of her arousal and your own cooling cum. Every slight movement sends shivers through her, her inner walls fluttering and clenching around you instinctively. The friction is insane, almost unbearable, slicker and yet somehow tighter than before. You pull back slowly, deliberately, dragging your thick shaft along her hypersensitive walls, then thrust back in deep, hitting that spot low in her belly that makes her gasp and her toes curl.

"Still feel good?" you ask.

"Y-yes! Fuck, yes!" she pants, gripping your biceps hard. "So good... it's almost too much... so sensitive now..."

"Good," you growl, starting to fuck her with a steady, driving rhythm. "I want it to be too much. I want to make you fall apart."

You fuck her hard, hips slamming against hers, driving deep with every thrust. Her legs instinctively wrap around your waist, pulling you even deeper, locking you in place. She meets your rhythm, hips lifting off the bed to take every inch, her head thrashing side to side on the pillows, dark hair fanning out. Her moans are louder now, higher pitched, broken sounds torn from her throat with every impact.

"Fuck! Harder! Please, harder!" she begs, completely lost to the sensation. "Right there! Oh god, oh god, yes!"

You obey, increasing the force, pounding into her relentlessly. The sound of your bodies colliding, the wet, sloppy sounds of your cock sliding in and out of her creamy cunt, fills the room. Her breasts jiggle wildly with the force of your thrusts, the sight driving you wilder. You lean down, capturing one nipple in your mouth again, sucking hard while you continue to hammer into her.

"Ah! Fuck! Yes, please—suck them! Bite them!" she cries out deliriously.

You lave the nipple, then bite down gently, just enough to make her cry out again, her pussy clenching violently around your cock. You switch sides, giving the other nipple the same rough treatment while your hips maintain their punishing rhythm. She's trembling all over now, completely overwhelmed, on the ragged edge of another climax.

"I'm gonna... I'm gonna cum again!" she gasps, eyes rolling back slightly. "Fuck, I can't stop it!"

"Don't stop it," you command. "Come for me again, Sohyun. Let go."

You focus your thrusts, angling slightly, grinding against her G-spot relentlessly, pushing her over the edge. Her body tenses like a drawn bowstring, muscles locking up, a high, keening whine building in her throat.

"Oh FUCK! I'm—!"

Her climax hits her like a lightning strike. Her whole body convulses, legs locking tight around your waist, back arching so high off the bed only her shoulders and heels are touching. A torrent of clear, slick fluid suddenly erupts from her, soaking the front of your body, spraying onto the sheets beneath her. She's squirting, a hot, copious gush that just keeps coming as her orgasm tears through her, wave after powerful wave. The sight, the feeling of her body spasming around you, the hot spray coating your skin, the sheer, unbridled intensity of her release—it shatters your own control completely.

"FUCK! SOHYUN!" you roar, unable to hold back any longer.

You feel your own orgasm roaring up your spine, too intense, too soon after the last one, but unstoppable. You pull out at the last second, cock slapping wetly against her drenched belly, still spasming from her squirt. You brace your hands, aiming carefully, and explode all over her chest. Thick ropes of your cum spray across her collarbones, coating her full breasts, dripping down between them. Shot after shot erupts from you, hot and heavy, until you're completely drained, collapsing forward slightly, bracing your weight on your elbows, chest heaving, heart pounding like it wants to escape your ribs.

You stay like that for a moment, catching your breath, looking down at the beautiful, glorious mess you've made of her. Sohyun lies beneath you, utterly wrecked, limbs trembling, face flushed, eyes glazed and unfocused. Her chest is rising and falling rapidly, coated in your thick, white seed. The sheets beneath her are soaked from her squirt. She looks debauched, thoroughly fucked, completely claimed. And she's never looked more beautiful. You lean down, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead.

"You," you whisper, "are the most beautiful girl in the world, Sohyun. Absolutely fucking perfect."

She manages a weak, trembling smile, lifting a shaky hand to cup your cheek. Her eyes finally focus on yours, filled with so much love, so much raw emotion, it steals your breath all over again. She doesn't say anything, doesn't need to. The connection between you is palpable, electric, forged in confessions and tears and sweat and cum and squirt, solidifying into something undeniable, something unbreakable, right there in the messy aftermath on her tangled sheets.

A long, shared sigh escapes both of you almost in unison. You lie down next to her, Sohyun rests her head back on your chest, her breathing still slightly ragged, her fingers tracing idle patterns over your cum-splattered chest. You stare up at the ceiling, your own mind racing, trying to process the whirlwind of confessions, the raw intensity, the spilled fluids currently cooling on both of you and the sheets. It feels surreal, like a dream you're afraid you'll wake up from.

"Holy shit," Sohyun whispers after a long silence, her tone full of dazed wonder. "That... actually happened."

You let out a shaky laugh, tightening your arms around her. "Yeah. I... I can hardly believe it either."

She shifts slightly, propping herself up on one elbow to look down at you, her expression serious now, practical thoughts cutting through the haze of pleasure.

"Hey," she starts, biting her lip slightly. "I'm... uh... gonna need to get a morning-after pill. Just... you know..." She gestures vaguely towards her lower body, where your seed still rests deep inside her. "We kinda... really overdid it on the whole... breeding thing."

A flush creeps up your neck, embarrassment mixing with the lingering thrill of her earlier demands. You nod quickly.

"Yeah," you agree, clearing your throat. "Yeah, we definitely did. Sorry, I should have... pulled out the first time too, I just... lost it."

She shakes her head, reaching out to cup your cheek gently. "Don't apologize. I told you to. I wanted you to." A small, almost shy smile touches her lips. "It was... really good. All of it."

Relief washes over you, potent and warm. "Yeah?" You meet her gaze, searching her eyes. "I thought so too. More than good. It was... everything."

She smiles fully then, leaning down to press a soft, lingering kiss to your lips. The easy affection, the simple intimacy after the storm, feels grounding. You kiss her back, pouring all your confused, overwhelming feelings into it. After a moment, she pulls back again, her expression turning thoughtful, hesitant.

"So..." she starts, tracing the line of your jaw with a fingertip. "What... what happens now? With us?"

You shift awkwardly beneath her, suddenly very aware of your nakedness, your vulnerability. This is it. The moment you’ve simultaneously dreaded and longed for.

"Well," you begin, swallowing hard, forcing yourself to meet her searching gaze. "I was kinda hoping... um..." You fumble for the words, feeling ridiculously shy after everything you just did together. "Do you... maybe... want to be my girlfriend?"

Her breath catches, her eyes widening slightly before breaking into the most brilliant, radiant smile you’ve ever seen on her face. It lights her up from the inside out.

"Yes!" she breathes, relief flooding her features. "God, yes! Of course, I do, you idiot!"

She crashes down onto you again, capturing your mouth in a fierce, joyful kiss that tastes like hope and relief and the start of something new. You kiss her back with equal fervor, laughing against her lips, pure happiness bubbling up inside you. When she finally pulls back, breathless and beaming, her expression clouds slightly again.

"Okay, good," she says, settling back against your chest, but her fingers fidget slightly. "But... what about... Xinyu?"

You swallow hard, the name like a stone dropping into the pit of your stomach. Guilt immediately floods you, chasing away some of the euphoria. You owe Xinyu honesty, even if it’s going to hurt.

"Right," you sigh. "Yeah. I... I need to talk to her. Be straight with her." You hesitate, forcing yourself to be completely honest with Sohyun now, no more secrets. "She, uh... she actually asked me out today. Like, properly. Asked me to be her boyfriend."

"Oh," she says, her tone carefully neutral. "Really? Wow, I'm surprised… What did you say?"

"I didn't accept," you say quickly, meeting her gaze earnestly. "I told her I needed time to think. I was... confused. Uncertain." You reach up, cupping her cheek, needing her to believe you. "And now I know why, Sohyun. It was never about being confused between you two. It was about me being too scared to admit what I really wanted. Who I really loved." Your thumb strokes her cheekbone. "It's you. It's always been you."

Her eyes soften, glistening slightly, and she leans into your touch, pressing a kiss to your palm. "Okay," she whispers. "Just... be careful, okay? When you talk to her."

"I will," you promise.

—

The fluorescent lights of the campus bathroom hum overhead, casting a sterile glare on the tiled walls. Sohyun leans over one of the sinks, splashing cool water onto her face, trying to wash away the lingering exhaustion and the slightly dazed feeling that’s followed her all day. Everything feels different now. Knowing you feel the same way, knowing you're hers, officially... it’s like the world has tilted on its axis. She pats her face dry with a rough paper towel, catching her reflection in the mirror. Her eyes still look a little red-rimmed, her hair is messier than usual, but there’s a softness around her mouth, a lightness in her gaze that wasn't there before. She almost smiles.

The main door swings open, letting in the muffled sounds of the hallway, and Sohyun glances up automatically. Xinyu walks in, head down, scrolling intently on her phone, her usual bright energy noticeably absent. She looks... agitated. She heads towards the mirrors further down, seemingly not noticing Sohyun at first. But then she looks up, her eyes scanning the room, and freezes mid-step as her gaze lands on Sohyun. The recognition dawns instantly.

"YOU!" Xinyu finally spits out. She drops her phone onto the counter with a clatter and points a trembling finger directly at Sohyun.

A couple of other girls who were fixing their makeup quickly gather their things, exchanging wide-eyed glances before scurrying out, leaving the heavy tension simmering between just the two of them. The door clicks shut behind them, amplifying the sudden silence.

Xinyu takes a step closer, her face pale beneath her usually perfect makeup, her eyes blazing with hurt and anger. "It was you, wasn't it? You're the reason he dumped me!"

Sohyun straightens up slowly, leaning back against the cool tile, crossing her arms defensively. Her heart pounds, but she keeps her expression carefully neutral, refusing to rise to the bait immediately.

"Dumped you?" Sohyun asks, raising an eyebrow slightly. "What breakup are you talking about? As far as I know, you and he never actually had anything official to break up from."

Xinyu recoils as if slapped, offense flashing across her features. "Excuse me? We were having something! We were figuring it out, discovering each other! It was real! He kissed me, he fucked me, he was going to be mine! Until you!" she jabs her finger towards Sohyun again, voice trembling with suppressed tears. "You got in his head! You ruined it!"

A cold wave washes over Sohyun. Hearing Xinyu talk about you fucking her, even knowing it happened, still feels like a physical blow. But she pushes the hurt down, replacing it with a steely resolve.

"He was always mine," Sohyun says.

Xinyu lets out a choked, incredulous laugh. "Always yours? That's bullshit! You've known him for years, lived with him, watched him date other people, watched me flirt with him, and you never did a damn thing! You never had the guts! And now, now that I finally decided to go for it, now that I did what you were always too scared to do, now you decide to swoop in and get in the way?"

The accusation hits home, sharp and true. Sohyun flinches slightly, the guilt churning inside her. Xinyu isn't wrong about her cowardice, about her inaction for years.

"You're right," Sohyun admits quietly, dropping her gaze for a second before forcing herself to meet Xinyu's furious stare again. "You're absolutely right. That was my mistake. My biggest fucking mistake, letting fear stop me for so long." Her jaw tightens, her own fierce possessiveness surging forward. "But I finally acted. Because I wasn't going to lose him. Not to you. Not to anyone. I would never let myself lose him."

The raw conviction in Sohyun’s declaration seems to finally break something in Xinyu. Her furious facade crumbles, shoulders slumping, tears finally spilling over and tracking messy lines down her cheeks. She wipes at them angrily with the back of her hand.

"So what now?" Xinyu asks. "Are you going to make him quit the club? Tell him he can't hang out with me anymore?" The question sounds desperate, surprisingly vulnerable. "He... he still wants to be friends. And he's really important for the zine production... We need him."

Sohyun watches her cry, a flicker of unexpected pity stirring beneath her own lingering anger and possessiveness. She remembers your hesitation earlier, your insistence that Xinyu wasn't just using you. Maybe you were right. Maybe Xinyu did have genuine feelings, however tangled up they were.

"Look," Sohyun says, sighing, her tone softening slightly. "I'm not his mother. I don't tell him what to do." She shrugs, trying for nonchalance. "And I know he actually likes that stupid crafts club, for some reason."

"It's not stupid!" Xinyu snaps automatically through her tears.

"Whatever," Sohyun dismisses with a small wave of her hand. "My point is, if he wants to keep going, that's his choice. It's fine with me." She levels a steady gaze at Xinyu. "As long as you understand the boundaries. As long as you don't try anything. At all."

Xinyu sniffs, wiping her eyes again, nodding quickly. "I won't," she promises, her voice small. "I get it. I won't."

An awkward silence hangs between them. Sohyun feels a pang of something akin to regret, not for claiming you, but for the collateral damage.

"I am sorry," Sohyun says quietly, genuinely. "Sorry you got... deluded, I guess. Caught up in the middle of all this."

Xinyu offers a watery, humorless smile, shaking her head. "It's okay. My fault, really." She lets out a shaky breath. "Rule number one: don't fall for the guy who has a female best friend with obvious unresolved history with him. Never ends well, does it?" She attempts a laugh, but it comes out as more of a sob. She grabs a paper towel, dabbing at her eyes, trying to pull herself together. The confrontation seems over, leaving behind only the wreckage and the uneasy truce born from shared heartbreak over the same boy.

—

Walking into the "Hands On" club room later that day feels different. There's a knot of uncertainty low in your stomach, a leftover echo of the drama, the confrontation you know happened between Sohyun and Xinyu, and your own awkward conversation looming. You push the door open tentatively. The usual creative chaos greets you—fabric scraps littering tables, the faint smell of glue and paint, half-finished projects everywhere. Several members look up as you enter, their chatter dying down for a beat as they take you in. You can practically feel them sense the lingering tension, the potential for more trouble. A silent ripple of awareness goes through the room.

Xinyu, who was overseeing someone wrestling with a sewing machine, immediately straightens up, clapping her hands together with forced brightness.

"Alright people, less gawking, more gluing!" she calls out, her usual commanding tone back in place, though maybe a little strained around the edges. "Those zine covers aren't going to embellish themselves!"

The members quickly avert their gazes, busying themselves with their tasks, pretending they weren't just bracing for round two. You take a deep breath and approach Xinyu, stopping a few feet away, hands shoved awkwardly in your pockets.

"Hey," you manage, the word coming out quieter, shyer than you intended.

She turns, offering you a small, tight smile that doesn't quite reach her eyes.

"Hi," she replies, equally subdued.

You shift your weight, glancing around the room before forcing yourself to meet her gaze. "Look, have you thought about what I said earlier? I just... I came to see... Am I still, like... welcome here? In the club?"

"Yes, of course," she says quickly. "Obviously. You're still production lead, aren't you?"

“Yeah. Thank you. I really enjoy being part of this club. Hmm, by the way, Sohyun told me you two talked today."

Xinyu nods, fiddling with a stray thread on her perfectly coordinated velvet jacket. "Yeah. We ran into each other." A flicker of her old cattiness surfaces as she gives a small, dismissive sniff. "Still don't really get what you see in her, honestly. She's just so... plain. Basic."

"Hey," you cut in gently but firmly. "Don't start, okay?"

Xinyu immediately holds up her hands in mock surrender, though a genuine look of apology flashes in her eyes. "Sorry! Sorry. Force of habit. Old rivalries die hard, I guess." She offers a more genuine, albeit still slightly strained, smile. "Seriously though. We're glad to still have you. I'm glad. You actually get stuff done around here."

You manage a small smile back. "So... it's not going to be weird? Between us? After everything?"

She laughs, a short, sharp sound, but it holds genuine amusement this time. "Oh, it'll probably be weird for a bit," she admits honestly. "But we'll manage. I'll just have to make you work twice as hard on club duties to make up for breaking my heart."

You laugh, the sound easing more of the tension. "Okay, that's fair."

She leans against the table beside her, her posture relaxing slightly. "Look," she says, her tone turning serious again. "I meant what I said, you know. That I liked you." She avoids your gaze for a second, staring down at her perfectly manicured nails. "Okay, fine, maybe at first I was kind of just taking advantage of how nice you are to get help with lifting boxes and shit," she confesses with a wry twist of her lips. "But somewhere along the line... I actually started to fall for the sweet, reliable guy underneath all the errand-running. You're... genuinely good. Different." She sighs dramatically. "Turns out I have a weakness for dependable soft boys who blush easily."

"Xinyu..." you start, feeling a pang of guilt again. "I'm really sorry I couldn't... feel the same way."

She waves a dismissive hand, finally meeting your eyes again, her expression resigned but composed. "Eh, it's okay. Don't sweat it." She shrugs, trying for nonchalance. "Honestly? I should've known it wasn't totally there the second you hesitated when I asked you to be my boyfriend. Nobody hesitates with me." She strikes a pose, hand on her hip, chin tilted defiantly. "I mean, hello? I'm perfect."

You can't help but laugh genuinely this time. "You're right," you agree easily. "You are pretty amazing, Xinyu."

"Damn right I am," she says, grinning, the familiar confidence flowing back into her. "Clearly you just have questionable taste." She winks. "But hey, your loss. I still want to be friends though, if you're cool with that? Awkwardness aside?"

"Yeah," you say warmly. "I'd really like that." You hold out your hand uncertainly.

She looks at it for a second, then takes it, her grip firm and decisive. A handshake. A truce. A new beginning.

"Good," she says, releasing your hand and immediately pivoting back to business mode, clapping her hands together again. "Okay, Production Lead! Less standing around looking relieved, more figuring out how we're going to afford that iridescent cardstock for the spring showcase invites..."

You listen intently as she dives into project details, pulling you back into the familiar rhythm of club tasks. And just like that, things start to feel... normal again. Different, yes. Tinged with the memory of drama and hurt feelings, but manageable. Xinyu, you realize, is great. Complicated, sharp-edged, maybe even a little ruthless sometimes, but also vibrant and passionate and, in her own way, surprisingly understanding. You're genuinely glad you can still have her in your life, even if it's just as friends wrestling over glitter glue and budget spreadsheets.

—

Later that same day, you push the apartment door open, balancing two large grocery bags against your hip. You check the clock on your phone; only 6:30 PM. You’re not late. In fact, you’re early. A small, ridiculously pleased smile spreads across your face. Adulting: achieved.

Before you can even call out, Sohyun appears from her room. She’s wearing comfy lounge pants and one of your old band t-shirts that’s way too big on her, hair pulled back loosely, face free of makeup. She stops when she sees you, sees the bags, sees the time. A slow, soft smile lights up her face—the real kind, the one that reaches her eyes and makes your heart do a stupid little flip. She walks towards you, and without a word, stands on her tiptoes and presses a sweet, welcoming kiss to your lips.

"Hey," she murmurs against your mouth. "You're home early."

"Made sure of it," you reply, kissing her back gently before setting the groceries down on the counter. "Got everything on the list. Even the fancy mushrooms."

"Ooh, fancy mushrooms," she teases, peering into the bags. "Feeling ambitious tonight?"

"Tonight," you declare, pulling out flour, yeast, cheese, and various toppings, "we are making pizza. From scratch. Together."

Sohyun raises an skeptical eyebrow, leaning against the counter with her arms crossed, but the fondness in her eyes gives her away. "Oh really? We are making pizza? Or I am making pizza while you try not to set the oven on fire or mistake salt for sugar again?"

You laugh, feigning offense. "Hey! I've improved. Slightly. Maybe." You grin at her. "Okay, fine. You'll be teaching me. But we're doing it together."

And so you do. You measure flour (incorrectly at first, earning a playful swat from Sohyun), knead dough (getting more on your shirt than in the bowl), chop vegetables (under her extremely close and critical supervision), and grate cheese. She patiently guides you, corrects your technique with gentle touches and exasperated sighs that don't quite hide her amusement.

There's teasing, there's flour dusted on noses, there's comfortable silence punctuated by easy chatter. It’s chaotic and messy and absolutely perfect. Gone is the sharp-edged tension that used to simmer beneath the surface, replaced by an open affection, a shared warmth that fills the small kitchen. As you slide the misshapen but lovingly topped pizzas into the oven, Sohyun wraps her arms around your waist from behind, resting her cheek against your back. You lean back into her embrace, covering her hands with yours.

"This is nice," she murmurs.

"Yeah," you agree, turning your head slightly to kiss the top of hers. "Yeah, it really is."

The classroom buzzed with the faint whispers of students exchanging notes and furtive glances at their phones. You sat slouched at the back, staring blankly at your open notebook, the pages still pristine except for a single doodle in the corner: a coffee cup. You idly tapped your pen against the desk, your thoughts drifting far from the lecture.

“Mr. Kang Junho!”

The sharp voice of your Professor Min snapped You back to reality. The room fell silent, and all eyes turned toward you. You straightened, blinking rapidly as the professor leveled a stern gaze at you from the podium.

“Care to join us in this riveting discussion, or are you busy solving life’s great mysteries back there?” Professor Min’s voice was tinged with sarcasm.

“Uh, no, sir. I mean, yes, I’m listening,” You stammered, scratching the back of your neck. A few chuckles rippled through the classroom.

Satisfied, the professor adjusted his glasses and continued, pacing slowly across the front of the room. “As I was saying, today’s topic is about myths and their reflection of humanity. Take, for instance, the legend of the Promised Nine.”

The room quieted, the students now leaning in slightly. Professor Min always had a way of making even the dullest of topics sound compelling.

“Long ago, during a time when humanity was steeped in chaos, war, and unrelenting greed, there was a king—a wise man, yet weary of the barbarism that plagued his people. No matter how many treaties he signed or how many battles he fought, peace was fleeting. He despaired, knowing that humanity’s greatest enemy was not the sword but the emotions that drove men to wield it: pride, envy, wrath, greed, gluttony, sloth, lust, apathy, deceit…”

Junho’s attention perked up. There was something strangely familiar about the words, though you couldn’t place why.

“So the king, in his desperation, climbed the tallest mountain in the land to plead with the deity who ruled the heavens. He begged for salvation, not for himself, but for humanity. The deity listened, moved by the king’s earnestness. But salvation comes with a cost.”

Professor Min paused dramatically, glancing at his captivated audience. “A promise was made—a sacred pact between the king and the deity. Aid would be sent to humanity, not as armies or riches, but as nine beings, each representing the most volatile of human emotions. Their purpose? To keep the balance of these forces, preventing anyone from consuming the world.”

He walked over to the whiteboard and wrote the words The Promised Nine in bold letters.

“But there was a catch,” he continued. “The deity warned the king that these emotions, though tempered, could never truly be eradicated. The Promised Nine would struggle with the very forces they were meant to contain. And should even one of them fall to the temptation of their burden…”

Professor Min trailed off, his gaze sweeping the room.

“What would happen?” a student near the front blurted, unable to resist.

“Should one of the Nine succumb, their emotion would consume them entirely, turning them into a force of destruction. And that destruction could spread unchecked, tipping the scales and plunging the world into chaos once more. To prevent this, the Deity decreed that the Nine would be connected to a chosen mortal—an anchor. This anchor would serve as their confidant, grounding them when the weight of their burden became too great to bear.”

He turned back to the whiteboard, writing in large, bold letters: The Promised Nine.

“The anchor is as important as the Nine themselves,” he said. “Without them, the balance could not be maintained. The king agreed to the Diety’s terms, knowing full well the cost. And thus, the Promised Nine came into being.”

Professor Min stepped back from the board, his expression somber. “But the Diety’s warning still lingers in the echoes of time: no balance lasts forever. The story of the Promised Nine reminds us that humanity’s greatest strength—and its greatest threat—lies within ourselves.”

The shrill ring of the bell echoed through the room, breaking the spell. Students began packing their bags, the hum of chatter returning.

“Read chapters six through eight for next week!” Professor Min called over the noise.

You gathered your things slowly, the tale still turning over in your mind. As you slung your bag over your shoulder and made your way to the door, you muttered to yourself, “Promised Nine, huh? Sounds like something out of a fantasy novel.”

—

You exit the lecture hall, slipping into the stream of students flowing out into the bustling campus courtyard. The sun dips low in the sky, casting long shadows and a warm orange glow over everything. You glance at your watch—just enough time to get to your part-time job.

The café isn’t far, a cozy little spot just outside the university gates. Its charming wooden sign, Golden Brew, sways slightly in the breeze. The place is always busy, a favorite among students and faculty alike. But there’s one reason it stands out from the dozens of other coffee shops around: its owner, Gyuri.

You push through the door, greeted by the familiar hum of chatter, clinking cups, and the hiss of the espresso machine. The café smells like roasted beans and freshly baked pastries—a comforting combination that feels like a second home.

“Junho, you’re late!”

The voice is soft yet commanding, and you immediately straighten, turning to the counter. There she is—Gyuri, the radiant owner of Golden Brew. Her beauty is the kind that leaves people momentarily breathless. stood effortlessly graceful in her casual white t-shirt and mint-green cap, her gentle features framed by stray strands of hair and a gaze as warm as the morning sun

“I-I’m sorry, Ms. Gyuri,” you stammer, bowing slightly as you head toward the staff room to put your bag away.

“It’s fine, just don’t make a habit of it, okay?” she replies, her voice as warm as the golden light streaming through the café windows.

“Yes, of course!” you reply quickly, though you can’t shake the sense of unease you always feel around her.

It’s not fear, exactly. Gyuri is unfailingly warm and generous. She treats her staff like family, remembers the names of regulars, and always has a smile for everyone who walks through the door. Still, you find yourself hyper-aware of her moods, as though disappointing her might lead to something far worse than a lecture.

When you emerge from the staff room in your apron, Gyuri is already behind the counter, expertly steaming milk for a cappuccino. “Can you handle table seven’s order? They’ve been waiting a bit.”

You grab the tray, carefully balancing two lattes and a slice of cheesecake, weaving your way through the maze of tables. It’s almost automatic at this point—sidestepping bags, dodging half-turned chairs—but when you reach the corner table, you stop.

She’s there.

Seoyeon.

She’s a regular, not a student or faculty, just... always here. You’ve seen her enough times to notice the details: the dark circles under her eyes, natural and striking, framing her otherwise delicate features. She’s beautiful in a way that sneaks up on you—her sleepy, almost lazy demeanor masks something deeper.

She’s hunched over her laptop, typing slowly, as if testing each word before committing to it. The oversized navy shirt drapes over her frame, and her hair carelessly tied, some falls messily around her face. You set the tray down gently, not wanting to disturb whatever she’s working on.

“Thanks,” she mutters without looking up, her voice soft, almost as if she’s halfway to falling asleep.

You nod, even though she doesn’t see it, and glance at her screen. It’s filled with text—lines upon lines of words you can’t make sense of from this angle. Stories, maybe? Essays? You don’t know, and it’s not your place to ask.

As you turn to leave, she stretches, her movements slow and languid, like she has all the time in the world. For a moment, you wonder what keeps her coming back here, day after day, to sit in that same spot, typing away.

But you shake the thought off. You’ve got other tables to serve.

.You make your way back behind the counter, tray in hand. It’s a small relief to retreat to this spot, even if only for a few moments. Manning the cashier is easier—less weaving between tables, fewer chances to trip or spill something. The register beeps softly as you organize receipts and prepare for the next wave of customers.

The door opens, and the atmosphere in the café shifts. It’s subtle, like a faint breeze stirring through a room, but you notice it immediately. Heads turn—students and faculty alike—and conversations falter as if someone hit pause.

You glance up and freeze.

Jiheon.

Her name is spoken in hushed tones across campus, her presence both admired and untouchable. She moves with an effortless grace that feels out of place in the mundane setting of the café, her bright smile commanding attention without even trying. But it’s her eyes that hold you—the way they curve into crescent moons with a hint of something sharper, more mischievous, just beneath the surface.

To your utter disbelief, she walks directly to the counter. Your counter.

“Hi there,” she says, her voice smooth and casual, like she’s greeting an old friend. Her gaze locks onto yours, and her smile widens slightly. “You’re Junho, right?”

You blink, caught so off guard that you almost drop the pen in your hand. “Uh… yeah?” Your answer comes out as more of a question than a confirmation.

Her smile grows, as if your awkwardness amuses her. “Thought so. I’m Jiheon.” She leans in just slightly, resting one hand on the counter. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

Your wariness kicks in. Jiheon—the Jiheon—is talking to you? Asking for your name? It feels like the kind of thing that only happens to other people. Your eyes flick briefly to Gyuri at the other end of the counter. She’s busy steaming milk, not even sparing a glance in Jiheon’s direction.

“Nice to meet you,” you manage, your voice steadier this time, though your thoughts are racing. “Uh, caramel macchiato?” You blurt the question out more out of instinct than anything else.

Her laugh is light, lilting, but there’s something playful in it, like she’s already decided you’re her new source of entertainment. “Hmm. Good guess,” she teases, tapping a finger against the counter. “Sure, I’ll have that. But I’m impressed you remembered. I didn’t think I was that predictable.”

You feel your face heat up, fumbling to punch her order into the register. “It’s not that, I just—uh—” You stop, realizing anything you say will just dig you deeper.

She watches you, clearly enjoying the way you stumble over your words. “Relax, Junho,” she says, her tone soft but undeniably amused. “I’m just messing with you.”

Handing her the receipt, you attempt a smile. “Coming right up.”

Instead of moving to find a seat, she lingers by the counter, her eyes drifting lazily around the café before landing back on you. “Nice place. Gyuri’s done a great job here, hasn’t she?”

Your gaze flicks to Gyuri again. Still busy. Still not looking this way. “Yeah, she has,” you reply, keeping your voice neutral.

Jiheon tilts her head, her smile still firmly in place. “You two seem close,” she muses, her tone light but probing. “Gyuri’s lucky to have someone like you helping her out.”

The way she says it makes you feel like she’s toying with you, testing your reaction. “I just do what I can,” you say cautiously.

Her eyes light up, as if you’ve said something particularly amusing. “I bet you do.” She straightens up and takes a step back. “Well, Junho, it’s been… enlightening.” Her smile takes on an almost cat-like quality. “Thanks for the drink. I’ll be around.”

As she walks away to find a seat, the tension in your shoulders eases, but her presence lingers like a shadow. You glance at Gyuri one last time, hoping for some kind of reaction, but she’s focused on the drinks in front of her, her usual calm smile in place.

And yet, for just a moment, you swear there’s something almost knowing in the way she glances at Jiheon’s retreating figure..

—

The bell above the door jingles as the last customer leaves, and you let out a long breath, leaning against the counter. The café feels different now—quiet, peaceful, but heavy with the lingering scent of coffee and pastries. It’s nighttime, and the warm glow of the overhead lights gives the empty space a cozy but slightly eerie feel.

“Good job today, Junho,” Gyuri says, flashing you one of her signature warm smiles as she locks the cash register.

“Thanks, Ms. Gyuri,” you reply, your voice softer than usual in the now-empty café.

After finishing up your closing duties—wiping down tables, stacking chairs, and sweeping the floors—you grab your jacket and step out into the cool night air. The streets are quieter now, with only a few scattered groups of students heading home. You adjust your backpack, your thoughts already drifting toward the comfort of your cramped boarding room.

As you turn a corner, someone bumps into you.

“Ah, sorry,” you mumble automatically, stepping back.

The girl doesn’t even glance up, her eyes glued to her phone. She’s wearing what looks like an e-sport jersey jacket, its bold colors contrasting with the dark street. Her brown hair catches the ambient glow of the streetlights, faintly shining as she moves past you. For a brief moment, her face is illuminated, and it’s enough to leave an impression.

She’s stunning.

Before you can fully process it, your impulse kicks in. You take a step forward, clearing your throat. “Hey, uh, I’m Junho...”

But she doesn’t respond. Her focus remains solely on the screen of her phone, and she keeps walking, oblivious to your presence.

You stand there for a second, feeling a bit foolish, then shake your head. The image of her lingers in your mind as she disappears into the night, leaving you with nothing but the quiet hum of the street.

When you finally reach your room, you fumble with your keys and push the door open. It’s as small and cramped as ever, but it’s yours. You toss your jacket onto the single chair by the desk, only to realize something’s missing. Your bag. You groan, running a hand through your hair. You must’ve left it at the café in your rush to leave. There’s no helping it—you’ll have to go back.

The walk feels longer this time, the quiet streets amplifying the sound of your footsteps. As you get closer, a strange unease settles in your chest. The air feels heavier, the streetlights casting elongated shadows that seem to move just out of sync with your steps. Your skin prickles, as if something unseen is watching.

When you reach the café, you notice something strange. Cars are parked outside. Not just any cars—luxury vehicles, sleek and expensive, the kind you’d expect to see in a high-end district, not outside a cozy student café. Their polished exteriors gleam under the soft glow of the streetlights, each one a testament to sophistication and taste.

Your gaze drifts across the lineup, catching details that feel oddly personal. A jet-black SUV, imposing and understated. A sapphire blue Porsche, sharp and vibrant, eerily luring you in. Your eyes stop briefly on a compact car that feels out of place among the giants—a Mini Cooper. Its emerald green paint shimmers, the kind of green that feels rich and alive, paired with racing stripes that speak of personality rather than pure extravagance. It’s less ostentatious but undeniably stylish, a subtle standout among its peers.

As you approach, an inexplicable resistance builds inside you, like a pressure against your chest. Your feet feel heavier, your thoughts fuzzier, and for a brief moment, you consider turning around. The café seems distant, almost unreal, like it’s shifting away even as you step closer. But you shake it off, forcing yourself forward.

You head to the backdoor, fishing out the spare key Gyuri gave you for emergencies. Pushing it open, you step into the staff area and spot your bag right where you left it. Relieved, you sling it over your shoulder and turn to leave.

That’s when you hear it.

The faint jingle of the front doorbell breaks the silence, followed by muffled voices.

You freeze. The café should be empty, but there’s a light seeping through the crack of the door leading to the main lobby. Slowly, you step closer, curiosity outweighing caution.

Peeking through the door, you see her.

She steps inside like she owns the air she breathes, her presence commanding yet effortless. Her long, jet-black hair cascades down her back, perfectly straight, with sharp bangs framing her face. Under the glow of the café lights, her striking blue eyes seem almost unnatural, as if they were cut from the sky itself.

For a moment, her gaze sweeps the café, and then it lands directly on you.

Your heart skips a beat. You’re sure you’ve been caught—your face heats up, and you’re ready to stammer some excuse about being here after hours. But her expression doesn’t shift.

Her lips curl into a smile, slow and deliberate, as if she’s been waiting for this very moment. It’s the kind of smile that feels personal, like it holds a secret meant only for you.

But then, as quickly as her eyes found yours, they slid away.

It’s deliberate—you’re certain of that. She must have seen you. And yet, she acts as if you’re invisible, as if your presence is of no consequence. She turns, her hair sweeping behind her like a silk curtain, and addresses the others in the room.

From your hidden vantage point, you take in the scene.

The café, which should have been empty, is instead alive with movement. A group of women fills the space, each one radiating an aura of distinct confidence and beauty. They aren’t just sitting or lounging; they seem to command the room, transforming it into something that feels foreign, almost sacred.

“Chaeyoung,” one of the women calls out, her tone both teasing and sharp, “you’re late.”

Your eyes dart to the source of the voice, and your breath catches—it’s her. The same woman you bumped into earlier, the one engrossed in her phone. She’s still wearing that e-sport jersey jacket, looking as effortlessly confident as she had before.

“And Nagyung? You’re not late?” Chaeyoung fires back, her tone teasing, her smile sharper now.

The casual banter between them feels like watching something private, yet you can’t look away.

Your gaze shifts to the rest of the table. The initial shock of seeing Chaeyoung fades as you take in the others, each of them equally striking in their presence. You almost stumble backward when you spot familiar faces.

Gyuri, whose warmth you’ve come to rely on, sits with an unfamiliar coolness about her. Her brow is furrowed, a faint trace of annoyance crossing her usually gentle features. It sharpens her striking appearance, making her seem like someone you’ve never truly known. There's a tension in her posture that makes you feel like you're seeing a side of her that’s been hidden until now.

Seoyeon leans lazily toward the women beside her, her relaxed posture contrasting the air of composure around the table.

The woman Seoyeon is leaning into feels strangely familiar, as if you should recognize her. She matches the others in beauty, her jet-black hair framing a delicate face. A soft smile plays at her lips, radiating warmth and charm. With luminous skin and deep, expressive eyes, she exudes an effortless elegance that captivates without even trying.

And as if that weren’t enough to leave you reeling, on the other side of the table, you recognize Lee Saerom.

The Saerom. The top celebrity, known for her flawless visuals and commanding performances.

Sitting next to her is Song Hayoung, the famous songwriter and soloist whose music dominates every chart. 

They’re casually leaning into the conversation, as though their combined fame and aura aren’t enough to make this room the most exclusive place in the city.

“Is Jiwon not here yet?” Chaeyoung asks as she slips into a seat, her voice nonchalant, but her eyes scanning the room with interest.

The front doorbell jingles, and the door swings open.

“I’m here!!” a bright, piercing voice calls out.

Your head swivels toward the source, and there she is. Jiwon, bounding through the entrance like a whirlwind of energy, her grin lighting up the room before her words even have a chance.

“Jisun, did you bring food?” Jiwon’s question comes rapid-fire, her tone playful but undeniably demanding.

The woman Seoyeon was leaning into rose. She moves with calm precision, her composure stark against Jiwon’s lively presence.

"Of course, I brought food. Wouldn’t want you to starve." Jisun says, her voice soft but firm, as she produces a stack of containers seemingly out of nowhere. She places them on the table, the gesture practiced, as though she had been anticipating the request long before it was asked.

It hits you then. Roh Jisun. The world-famous chef. Known for her culinary brilliance and beauty. You've seen her multiple times before in magazines, tv, or online articles. You can hardly believe she's here, so close, exuding an effortless elegance.

“Can we finally get started? I still have to clean up after all of you,” Gyuri complained, her annoyance clear.

Now that the group had gathered, all eyes shifted to Saerom, who was waiting for their attention.

“Our youngest is losing control,” Saerom began.

“We all constantly are,” Nagyung shrugged off the concern.

“This isn't the same, you know that,” Saerom replied firmly.

“Don’t try to ignore these meetings, Nagyung. I’m losing millions just being here,” Jiwon said, flaunting her wealth.

“Must be nice having all those millions,” Hayoung remarked. While her gaze focuses on the only fork on the table, in the hands of Chaeyoung.

“You’re a millionaire too. Why are you eyeing my money?” Jiwon shot back defensively.

“Ahem!… Losing control?” Gyuri steered the conversation back on track.

Saerom, now commanding their full attention, spoke with purpose.

“We need to consider finally finding an anchor.”

“Then we’ll get an anchor. Meeting is done,” Soyeon said with a yawn, stretching.

Charyoung, still twirling the fork between her fingers, smirked. “Do we have to? I’ve been liking her attitude recently.”

“It’s time,” Saerom replied, her tone serious. “We can’t risk it. If deceit consumes her…”

“It will consume all of us,” Gyuri finished, her voice dark.

You stay frozen, trying to make sense of the conversation. Consume? Anchor? Deceit? The weight of their words sinks in, and though you know you should leave, something keeps you rooted to the spot. The truth behind their cryptic conversation is just out of reach.

Then, without warning, a soft voice whispered near your ear.

“Curiosity can be dangerous, you know.”

You nearly jump out of your skin, spinning around to find Jiheon standing inches away, her signature eye-smile curved upward in amusement. You’re certain she wasn’t there a second ago. How could she have gotten so close without making a sound?

“Wha—how—?” you stammer, instinctively taking a step back, only to hear the door creak open behind you.

Seoyeon, now fully awake, leans forward slightly, her drowsy facade giving way to genuine surprise. “How did he get here?” she asks, her voice carrying a rare edge of curiosity. Her eyes scan you, but it’s not just scrutiny—it’s disbelief, almost as if you’re some kind of anomaly.

“Who’s this?” Nagyung asks, clearly not remembering you.

“Junho,” Gyuri says softly, her voice now laced with concern and confusion. “How are you here?” Her warm demeanor has returned that almost makes you feel safe. Almost.

Your mind scrambles for an explanation, but Jiheon, ever calm, steps forward, her gaze fixed on you as if she’s reading your very thoughts.

“He overheard,” Jiheon says simply, her tone neither accusatory nor dismissive.

“Clearly” Jiwon crosses her arms, her lively energy dampened by suspicion. “Why did you let him through?”

Jiheon doesn’t answer. Instead, she steps forward, closing the already narrow distance between the two of you. Her eyes glint with an eerie amusement, her head tilting slightly as she examines you like a puzzle she’s just begun to piece together.

“Regardless of how,” Saerom says, her voice cutting through the murmurs and drawing every gaze. She rises slowly, her commanding presence quieting the room once more. “What matters is why. What did he hear?”

“I didn’t mean to listen!” you blurt out, your voice shaky as you raise your hands in defense. “I—I just came back for my bag, and then I heard voices, and—”

“And stopped to eavesdrop,” Chaeyoung interrupts, her voice playful but her eyes uncomfortably sharp.

“No! I mean—yes, but not like that!” you stammer, feeling the weight of their collective stares crushing you. “It’s not what you think! I swear I won’t tell anyone!”

Gyuri sighs, stepping closer. “Junho, you don’t understand. This... what you’ve heard... it’s not something you can just walk away from.”

“I don’t know how you got through the mist ” Jisun adds, her tone firm but not unkind. “But this isn’t something just anyone can know.”

“Maybe,” Chaeyoung says, her lips curving into a sly smile, “he’s not ‘just anyone.’”

“Enough.” Saerom’s single word silences the room, her authority undeniable. Her eyes pierce through you, weighing your very existence. “What’s done is done. The question now is what we do with him.”

Your heart pounds in your chest. “Wait!” you cry, your voice desperate. “I swear I won’t say anything! I don’t even understand what I heard! Just let me go, and I’ll forget everything!”

“That’s not how this works,”  Hayoung says from across the room, her voice carrying an edge as she’s now holding the fork she was eyeing earlier.

Jiheon smirks, her eyes gleaming with mischief as she takes another step closer. “Oh, Junho,” she purrs, her voice dripping with playful malice. “It’s not your fault, really. You were just in the wrong place at the wrong time.” She tilts her head, her smile widening. “But... well, it’s a little late for regrets, don’t you think?”

Her hand lifts, faint cyan light dancing at her fingertips, and you can’t tear your eyes away. The glow reflects in her eyes, making her look ethereal and otherworldly.

“Jiheon, stop!” Saerom’s voice cuts through, but Jiheon doesn’t even flinch.

“Relax,” Jiheon says lightly, her tone almost soothing as she looks at you. “I’m just helping him... rest a little.”

“Jiheon!” Saerom’s command comes sharper this time, but it’s already too late.

Jiheon’s fingers flick, the cyan light tracing an elegant pattern in the air. “Just a little nap,” she whispers, her voice lilting and playful.

The moment the light touches you, an overwhelming drowsiness washes over your body. Your knees buckle, the edges of your vision darken, and Jiheon’s playful smile is the last thing you see as the world fades to black.

a/n: Before you move one the next chapter, can you guess who's who, with their pairing emotion?

(Pride, Greed, Lust, Envy, Gluttony, Wrath, Sloth, Deceit, and Apathy)

See it on fanprose

“I… I don’t know if I can handle this anymore… (sob) It… It’ll be better if we both just… move on!” Dead silence afterwards, followed by the ruthless beeping sound from your phone.

That’s the last sentence you heard before your girlfriend Kim Jiwon hung up the call. To be more exact, she is your ex-girlfriend right now. You let your phone slide down on the mattress in awe, by the moment you realize to call her back, her number is already in voice mail mode. Within expectation, Message is sent and left on read. A few days later, your number was added to her Blocked list, no more “Can I talk to you?” or “Liz, please let me explain!” ever got through.

---

Her cracked and sad murmuring lingered in your head like a curse over the past week. Why? You swear everything in your relationship was going so smoothly. Hell, it was better than the few romances you had before you met Liz.

The first anniversary was just last week. You took a huge chunk of your PhD stipend to book a fancy restaurant that serves little food on very big plates and surprised Liz with a bouquet full of pink roses. You hid the bouquet behind you as you walked towards her. She’s wearing a brown tank top beneath a black cardigan. Her hair dyed brown, her plump lips are glassy under the orange late-afternoon sun. “She’s literally an angel.” You thought.

“Jiwon, I made a guess that you’ll probably like this.” You hand her the bouquet, trying to act calm despite your face is just as pink as the flowers.

“Aw~ they’re so lovely! How do you know I like pink roses?” Liz is blushed as well; your gaze meets each other’s. Her endearing dimple makes you fall deeper each time you look at her.

“I thought gorgeous and elegant girls all like roses. Like yourself.” You squeeze a faint smile, pulling her close on your side while she holds the bouquet with both hands, eyes flickered full of joy from your compliment.

“You’re trying to make me blush again, stop~” Liz hides her face into your neck, her warm breath brushing your skin. That fresh vanilla scent of her shampoo makes you smile.

You hug her closer to you and she hums softly, your palm never leaving her waist.

The rest of the date was phenomenal, you thought.

The way how she couldn’t hide her smile when you held her hand into the restaurant and told her to order whatever she wanted to eat.

The way her cheeks turned so pink after the second glass of wine was down to her stomach.

The way she covers her face shyly while mumbling something like, “Babe… I love you so much. Hehehe…”

The way how she eagerly kissed you when you shut her apartment door and she pinched you to the wall.

The way how she let out soft moans like melodies from heaven when you really felt her with your body.

The way your bodies and the sheets tangling together the morning after, her room filled with nothing but love.

---

“I loved you too, Liz. I still fucking love you right now. I still do…” Maybe it was the sixth can of beer tonight? Maybe seventh. You lost track.

---

But that was all in past tense. It wouldn’t change the fact that you’re now single again for reasons that are still unknown to you. You wish you have something to do, just to distract your attention somewhere else. But unfortunately, this year is the time you took to fully prepare the upcoming GRE exam so your life is nothing but doing practice exams and studying.

How the fuck you’re supposed to study when your girlfriend just cut you off after your first anniversary? You stare at the window with a pair of eyes that are red from too much crying. Even the weather is not on your side right now, 5 days of consecutive raining already. There is no sunlight, just non-stopping tears dropping down from heaven.

You rub your eyes with the back of your bandaged palm: injured from slamming the table while you re-watched every video clip you filmed from the past dates. Blossom bite marks turned into purple bruise still clearly visible as you bit your forearm as a desperate measure to stop your never-ending grief. You caress your neck, where Liz left you a hickey at that night – the final proof of her existence on your body.

For maybe the tenth time today, you persuade yourself to pick yourself up. You throw your phone onto your bed without mercy; it bounces a few times before it lands on the pillow. The lockscreen is still the first picture you ever took with Liz. In that amusement park. She forced you to wear cat ears like she did and it had been your wallpaper ever since. You have yet to replace it.

You stare into the empty practice exam booklet, each problem is easier to solve than to figure out why she left you like this, broken and messy. The knots in topology are like how your heart is tangling and twitching. Those non-converging sequences in those metric spaces are cruel reminders of how the distance between you and Liz is approaching infinitely, no matter how you define it.

“What did I do wrong that you abandoned me like this, Liz?” You ask yourself this one question. For many years since you really dived into the world of academia, intellect had been the only weapon you had against the world. And apparently you want to know the answer to this more than anything else on the booklet. So, you attempt to solve your broken heart.

Maybe someone else is doing the same.

---

Liz is working her shift in the boba shop next to your campus. She looks tiny in front of the shelves full of tea jugs and syrup bottles. Never enough makeup can cover her grief and joyless face. The good news is, it is not busy because of the endless rain in the past a few days. The bad news is, it is not busy that Liz is guaranteed to be mourning the lost love.

“How can I help you today?” She manages to smile weakly, letting her dimple to the work of greeting a new customer walking in.

“An iced Thai tea, half sugar and half ice, please.” The young man says.

She picks up a sharpie on the cash register, writing the man’s order on the cup.

“50% of sugar and 50% ice, but 0% of probability that I can stop thinking about him.”

Liz lets out a quiet sigh as she turns to make the drink. She isn’t living a good life for days either, dark circles from sleep deprivation. Her apron is stained with tea and the residues of brown sugar that she’s too exhausted to clean up.

She adds the tea base into the plastic cup, one pump of syrup instead of two. Then she fills the cup with ice, the ice cubes bounce with each other, that crisp sound temporally overrides the sad rhythm of rain drops onto the roof.

“Shuck-a-shuck” Liz shakes the cup harder than usual, maybe she is hoping that she can shake you off her mind. But she knows for a fact that she cannot.

For the past a few days, she asked for longer shifts from her manager as she claimed she is free and willing to help. But certainly, Liz herself knows the exact reason why. She needs work to numb herself.

Each time the door chimes, she’d forget to breath for a fraction of a second before realizing it is just another stranger walking in for drinks.

She started to make mistakes.

“Excuse me, miss? I believe I didn’t order for extra espresso and less sugar? It is too bitter, it is undrinkable.” A middle-aged woman grumbles, pushing the cup on the table aggressively, while pointing at the dark sharpie inks, saying “Espresso +2”.

“I… I am so sorry ma’am, I’ll make you a new one right now.” Liz stares into the plastic cup.

Vietnamese Iced Coffee, light ice and half sugar, adding two shots of extra espresso. There is no way she gets the order wrong, the lady literally just asked for a plain Vietnamese Iced Coffee, no customizations.

It is because of her muscle memory.

It is because that was your favorite drink.

Liz pours the mistakenly made drink in the sink. The brown liquid swirls on the metals, trying one last time to resist before getting dragged to eternal darkness by gravity. She sighs, the cup is being thrown into trash, but that sharpie ink is like a mark that she can never erase.

She quickly remakes the drink; the woman grabs it from the table and leaves without looking at Liz again. Glad that she didn’t, because Liz is zoned out again.

“Oppa… How can you sleep? Two extra shots of espresso at 10 P.M.?” Liz winked her puppy eyes at you as you visited during one of her late-night shifts.

“Don’t worry about me, Liz-ah. I’m going to pull an all-nighter, I am so behind on the topics and I need to catch up!” You smiled, putting your credit card onto the card reader.

“Okie~ Give me a moment! You’ll be my last customer tonight anyway!” Liz gave you a big, warm smile as she started to make the drink for you.

“Take your time, babe. I’m not going anywhere until you’re home safe.”

“You’re the best, you know that right?” She was so happy.

It was beyond suspicious if you say you didn’t plan all this beforehand. Because the late-night walk to Liz’s place inevitably led to further events. You kissed her while you were still in the doorway. Her finger trembled so hard while trying to insert the key to her apartment. Her face looked like a peach that you eagerly wanted to taste.

Your hands were already all over her slim frame as Liz impatiently kicked the door shut after you.

“My room, Oppa…” Her breath hitched, one hand on your belt with another cupping your face.

---

The first night was rather a fever dream for both of you, she insisted you to sleep over as it was already past midnight when you two were done with the “stuff”. You oblige.

---

“We’re never going back… I am sorry Oppa, I… I wasn’t good enough for you.” Tears in Liz’s eyes drag her back to the reality.

As the final customer has his drink and leaves the door closed, Liz walks out to the door to flip that sign from “Welcome in!” to “Closed”. She stands under the dripping roof, staring into the heavy fog under the city lights. She sees your silhouette like a mirage that she always couldn’t catch up on.

“He’ll be better off without me.”

She thinks too much. Always too much.

Liz recalls that one night before your last final exam before you put that Bachelor’s degree in your bag. She called you for dinner together. You didn’t reject her, but you brought your laptop with you.

As much as she tried to cheer you up and said something like, “Oppa, I know you will be fine, you’re the smartest person I’ve ever met!” You didn’t respond. Your eyes are lifeless and locked onto the pages of complex variables.

“Oppa~ Take a break! Does my outfit look cute tonight?” She insisted, tapping on your shoulder. You flinched.

She saw you flinched.

You knew you didn’t mean to dismiss her like this but you were caught up in the middle of a theorem - unfortunately she thought you did.

“I’m so sorry, Liz-ah… I am really behind and the exam is tomorrow, if I don’t get an A, my GPA falls under the scholarship threshold and my Grad school will be a huge financial burden on me. I promise I’ll compensate you this weekend, do you want to go to that amusement park again? It’s gonna be on me.” You packed your stuff up, paid the bill and walked out the restaurant.

“It… it is ok Oppa, I understand.” She remained seated, tried her best to finish her plate of spaghetti. When she was done, she ran out of the door trying to chase you. But you were nowhere to be seen already.

“I’m a distraction… and he’s so far away… there is no way I am catching up with him”

That was the start of her grand scheme of overthinking.

And the storyline inevitably shifted to the day of your anniversary.

---

Liz is still standing under the roof. The shift had already ended, her only colleague had finished their cleaning tasks and locked the front door. Liz farewells the girl as her boyfriend comes to pick her up. She tried to hold it longer, making sure they’re far away enough.

She ducks down, burying her face into her palms and start crying.

“Oppa… I’ll try to get better; will you ever want me back?” She sobs.

Her mind travels back a week before, to that anniversary date. She hated herself for being smart at the wrong moment, that she got all the “messages” she THOUGHT you were giving her.

Liz could not contain her happiness when she saw your approaching her with that bouquet of pink roses, she dived into your embrace, mumbling how much she loved you.

Until you ‘accidentally’ slipped the fact that you took out a big chunk of your stipend for that night.

The rain has no sign of stopping, so does Liz’s crying. She looks so small under the huge banner of the boba shop, the raindrops ruthlessly accelerate into the ground before splashing onto her face. Her face that she intentionally put on extra layers of makeup to cover up her sadness.

How she wished she never overthought about a simple dinner and kept playing the game with you?

But she could not when you two finally sat down in the fancy restaurant and when the waitress handed the wine menu to you.

Liz was nervous, she didn’t know what to order.

“Oppa… we… we really don’t have to drink wine! It’s too expensive… I am fine with water, really.” She pulls the bottom of your shirt nervously.

But what she saw was how you confidently skipped two pages of the “By Glass” section and went directly into the “By Bottle” ones. She saw how you confidently pointed at the Tignanello on the reserve list that easily surpassed two days’ worth of her salary. Liz watched the waitress quickly returns to the table with a big smile like she treated you two as some VIPs. Her stomach dropped.

Liz took a sip of the wine when the waitress politely poured her half a glass. It tasted like velvet: smooth, soft. But it also tasted like some debt that she felt she could never pay back. She took a peek at you, tried to guess what’s hiding beneath your emotionless face.

A horrible idea had emerged from the bottle of her heart.

“It feels like a pity gift… I feel like I’m drinking away his future…”

Once the seed of doubt has been planted, it started to grow violently.

She recalled ten minutes before, when you explained to her the reason you picked Tignanello from the menu. Liz remembered you mentioned something about “elegance”, “high-end”. She couldn’t stop herself from thinking about your future academia society. You’d be no strangers to those fancy wines for those social gatherings, yet she’d still be the boba shop girl who would never fit in.

The compliments you gave her every five minutes to make her feel more confident, turned into “duties” in her ears. She didn’t hear you sincerely said how pretty she was at that night, but instead interpreted as your one last attempt to make her feel like she belonged in the place. The live band was grooving in the beats; saxophones were playing beautiful harmonies. But Liz’s heart was nothing but dead silence.

When the food was served, Liz tried one more time to observe you. But what she saw was just another big hit to her fluttering, overthinking heart. You were in the middle of introducing something interesting you read recently to Liz, while effortlessly picked up the smaller fork to eat your salad.

Yet, she froze when her main course was brought to her by the waitress. Liz stared at the row of polished silverwares like huge walls that separate her world from yours. She looked at your face one more time, you seemed pretty relaxed and like you were no strangers to those “big plates and little food” places.

She frightened. Your hands waved in the air while you commended the food, and you told her with a big smile on your face, “Liz-ah… their steak is really nice, do you like it? If you like it here, we can come here more often. You deserve the best, babe.”

“Do I really?” … Her heart skipped a bit.

It was at that moment; a decision was made by Liz.

“He… he’ll be better off without me, without someone who takes away his meal stipend for flowers and tuition money for a bottle of wine…”

You didn’t see a drop of tear fell of her beautiful chin in silence.

“But tonight, I’m going to give him everything. I’m leaving but I am going to love him so well that he’ll have enough warmth to last the entire lifetime…”

“Babe, it was really a nice meal. I love you so much! Wanna come to my place?” Liz managed to smile as happily as she could.

“Hell yeah…” You could read her implication; your face started to burn but you couldn’t contain your excitement and eagerness.

But maybe for the only time, that intellectual brain of yours guessed it wrong.

The taxi ride back to her place was nothing but silence. You thought you were both nervous for the incoming romance and intimacy for the anniversary night. But Liz had a mental breakdown, repeating the breakup message she’d sent you like a mantra.

You held her hand tightly as you exited the taxicab, you let her lead the way up the stairs. You loved her, you were excited and impatient. You started to plant soft kisses onto Liz’s neck on the stair case. The night breeze blew through your body and you both shivered, you pulled Liz closer to you for a hug, murmuring maybe for the fiftieth time for the night, “Liz… babe, I love you so much.”

It all sounded like a pitiful lie to her.

The door was unlocked; Liz flicked the light switch open. The dim, orange lamp adds a bit warmth to the atmosphere. You remembered how eager Liz was.

Her mouth was already all over yours. You thought it was the alcohol kicking in as you felt a bit lightheaded. But you didn’t expect Liz to be this... aggressive. It was not the first time you two had intimate moments like this, but she was always on that shy side. You were the one that initiated and took the lead.

Instead, she pushed you against her bedroom wall while she impatiently kicked off her flats. “Babe... give me everything tonight. Don’t leave any regret behind.” She said as she gave you another wet, open-mouthed kiss.

“Regret? Damn... this girl is going all in!” You felt like a winner. It must’ve been the date night you spent a lot of efforts planning made her so happy. It must’ve been that you showed how deeply you loved her, that she was moved and wanted to love you as much in return.

So, when her fingers scratched and dug a little bit too deep into your chest, you didn’t feel the pain. Instead, you took it as a love language of how deeply she loved you. But for Liz, as she watched the angry red lines bloom across your chest—marks left by her own desperate, searching fingertips - Liz didn’t see a sign of passion.

To her, those scratches were a handwritten ledger of everything she was about to give up. They weren't meant to hurt you; they were Liz’s final, selfish attempt to make sure that for at least a few days, you couldn't even change your shirt without feeling the ghost of her touch. Of course, you never knew it.

You felt so triumphed that you finally won her.

You felt so inspired that Liz finally gave herself to you.

You felt so loved that her body and yours are merging into one.

For Liz... it was how she tried so hard to trace every inch of your skin for one last time. It was her attempt to touch you, to feel you as much as possible. When she left, she could hold on to the texture of your body a bit longer. Liz was mentally archiving the shape of you. The knob on your shoulders for days of sitting and studying, the muscles of your arms.

Liz moved with a desperate, silent greed, memorizing the weight of your limbs like a student cramming for an exam she was destined to fail. She wanted to lock the heavy rhythm of your heartbeat into her bones, creating a relic of you inside her mind that she could mourn once she exiles herself from your future.

You kissed her back, only to realize Liz’s eyes were shut the whole time. Maybe she was just lost in the sensation, maybe you made her feel so overwhelmed from the desires that she needed to mute one of her senses to focus on the others.

What you didn’t know was how she tried her best to not lock onto you gaze before her decision crumbles. Her decision to break her heart, and yours, for your future success.

You shifted your hands lower and lower, light touches here and there. Her small but perky tits, flat tummy and eventually to her swollen entrance beneath the black lace pantie.

“Liz-Ah... you’re already so wet for me.” You teased, sliding one finger into her.

“Mmph....” She responded with nothing but a breathy moan. Her hips locked onto your hands a bit tighter, eyes still closed.

Although she tried her best to not let go of your finger inside her, the pleasure pushed her to give in. Her arms crossed around your neck; her pretty doll eyes started to flutter from the sensation.

Once, twice. She started to grind into your finger, so you added in one more into her.

“Oppa... you are making me feel so good... don’t ever leave me...” Liz slipped out a weak murmur. You thought it was just a “standard” thing girls say when they’re aroused.

Liz meant it. She never wanted you to go. But she knew she had to leave herself.

Your hardness almost broke through the fabric of your boxers, so you removed your fingers from Liz and started to unbuckle your belt.

She was lying on her back, breath hitching from the sensation. Liz put her delicate finger onto her clit, drawing lazy circles.

“Mmph… Oppa, give it all to me tonight… Let me feel you already.” Liz murmured.

“Yes… babe, tell me any time if it is too much, ok?” You can’t wait, lining the itching tip of your shaft against her wet entrance. You rub it a few times before pushing into her tight walls. For a moment, you wondered why she didn’t tell you to put on a condom like every single time you two had sex before.

Maybe she wanted to really feel you for once.

You kneeled on her mattress, hands hovering on her waists. Liz put a pillow beneath her back to support it, her big, watery eyes finally locked straight into your gaze. You couldn’t resist the way she looked at you, it only made you want to love her more.

Hence you started your thrusts, deeper and faster each time.

“Mmph… just like that Oppa… I love you… I LOVE YOU!” Liz cried out. “She must be really enjoying the pleasure right now.” You thought, your hips never stopped moving.

Her angelic moans were the catalyst of your unstoppable climax and you were surprised that how closely she clung onto your body and how tightly her fluttering folds squeezed your itching length. It had never been like this before. You grinned; felt so fucking proud of everything you gave her tonight.

“Liz… babe… come for me, don’t hold back…” You noticed how her eyes started to dilate; her legs started to tremble under your grasp. She was close.

“Yes! Yes… I’m gonna come… shit!” Liz rarely cursed, when she did, you knew she was on hell of a ride. She sat up from the bed, hiding her face into your neck as you kept pushing deep inside her. You relocated your palms from her small but firm butt onto her face, pulling her close for a long, wet kiss as you felt her giving herself into you.

“Oppa! I… I am coming! Ah shit… I can never love you enough.” A hitched cry came out from Liz’s glossy lips as she planted another kiss onto your neck.

But what came with her climax was unexpected. First of all, you felt her walls started to spasm, flooding your hard shaft with her sweet nectar. It lasted quite long, longer than it ever had. Meanwhile, you felt a hard sting on your neck. Liz bit down onto your skin with a force that was as hard as her orgasm.

A hickey? Liz had got that dark romantic spirit in her. You thought.

She didn’t feel the same.

Liz didn't just want to kiss you; she wanted to leave a bruise that looked like a blooming rose—a twin to the bouquet you bought her.

She wanted a mark that would turn purple and then yellow, a slow-fading sunset of your relationship. She silently screamed a goodbye into your soul while you groaned out her name in a victory cry.

“Liz!... Fuck…” You quickly felt the urge to come after her, with the pain on your neck surprisingly boosted your pleasure.

“Don’t pull out! Oppa… Let me feel you inside me… please!” Liz begged, eyes already full of tears.

“Did it feel that good?” You didn’t have the time to finish the thought as the pleasure started to emerge and rushed down your spine. Your abdomen started shaking violently, you could’ve help but to push Liz down to the bed and give her one final, deep thrust.

You soon gave in. Spurts after spurts of your essence were pumped into Liz’s body, mixing with her own nectar. Her walls kept fluttering, milking every last drop that you had left in your balls. The oxytocin soon kicked in, you dived your face into her chest, inhaling the faint scent of her vanilla body wash, mixing with a hint of the salt from her sweat.

You planted kiss after kiss on her tits, each time murmuring something like how you loved her and how you would never let her leave you.

“I really love you too… Oppa.” She smiled, faintly.

Your world soon blacked out as Liz kept caressing your messy hair with her fingers. Her addicting scent and soft strokes made your eyes feel heavier and heavier.

That was the last time you see her. What you didn’t witness after was how Liz hid herself next to your body for the whole night with non-stop sobbing and crying.

Next morning, she was already gone by the time you woke up from the beyond-exhausting sex that took place. A short text was sent to you, Liz told you she headed to work already. Your clothes were nicely folded beside you, a cup of coffee was already half-cold, still waiting for you to drink it.

“Last night was a new start of Liz and I, we’re destined to be lovers forever.” You told yourself.

“Last night was the finale of Oppa and I, we’re destined to be apart from now.” Liz cried again in work.

---

Two more cans of beer had been dumped into your stomach that’s filled with nothing but alcohol.

You don’t understand. You genuinely don’t. You thought that anniversary date was a banger. It was an extraordinary attempt to compensate Liz for not being able to take care of her as a girlfriend during the busy days of your exams.

You don’t understand why she’d left despite she seemed so happy at night when she held the bouquet. That bouquet you acquired by skipping your daily caffeine: your only source of happiness in this world besides Liz herself. You thought the roses were a promise. You didn't know she was looking at them like they were a funeral wreath.

You don’t understand why she felt so timid in that restaurant and asked you shyly, “w.., which fork is for salad again?”

“Ah babe, take it easy, use whichever one you feel like. You can even use the spoon, no one is gonna judge you here.” You responded with a confident grin because you wanted her to feel at home. But in this room filled with alcohol-scented air, you realized it was probably a mistake. Maybe the way you tried to liberate those etiquettes for her was making her feel uncomfortable and not belonging.

Your stomach had growled through the entire three-course meal, a hollow reminder of the breakfasts that you’d skipped for a month. But every time you looked across the candlelight at Liz, the hunger didn't matter. You’d trade a thousand meals just to see the way the restaurant’s gold light caught her eyes.

You had a spreadsheet. You knew exactly how many days of ramen it took to afford that bottle of wine she liked. You felt like a genius for pulling it off, like you were finally playing the part of the successful man she always deserved.

You had calculated the cost of that night down to the cent. You felt like a king when you handed the waiter your card, even though you knew your bank account was screaming. But now, staring at the empty beer cans, you feel like a fraud.

“Maybe she saw the way my hand shook when the bill came. Maybe she left because she realized she was dating a man who had to choose between a bottle of wine and a week of proper meals. Maybe she didn’t need someone who needed to skip his coffee just to buy her roses …” You murmur in the darkness.

She deserved better.

You stumble your way to the bathroom, not even bothering to turn on the lights. The dim moonlight shines through the curtains, projecting your silhouette onto the walls. The strong urge to vomit makes your gut tangle, but you can only cough and nothing comes out of your mouth. Because you haven’t eaten for a damn long while.

You try to ease the discomfort by splashing cold water onto your face. You stare at your reflection in the mirror but you don’t recognize this person in front of you. Eyes are red, beards are unshaved and hair is messy. Days of skipping meals had already made your jaw line visibly thinner.

Why would Liz ever love a guy like this?

A sense of self-pitying and guilt starts to wrench your exhaust heart. All those sweet moments you had with Liz started to become bitter. You begin to doubt yourself.

Maybe if you didn’t study at that dinner date, she would’ve not seen you as an academic prick that values textbooks more than his girlfriend.

Maybe if your lips didn’t twitch when you signed the bill, she would’ve really trusted you that her life would be better being with you.

Maybe if you didn’t slip the fact that the bouquet was the product of you cutting your caffeine… at least you should’ve still gone to the shop to see her after work.

Or maybe, if you were simply a better person… better to the extend to deserve an angel like her.

You think, at this point, the reason why she left you was clear enough. But you want to give it one more chance because something you see from the mirror.

The hickey that she planted on your neck.

It had already turned yellowish, the bruise that you interpreted as a mark of eternal love was actually an unforeseeable goodbye. By the time it fades, Liz will be long gone. Your relationship with her would already vanish into the void. You hover your trembling fingers onto the faint mark, so afraid that the last tether you have to Liz would disappear. You stare dead into your reflection. One last time.

You wake up your phone, the picture of you and Liz wearing cat-ears is still there.

You just turned it into black and white.

You click into your contacts; the entire page of recent calls is nothing but Liz. But none of the calls ever went through, why should it be any different this time?

“She’s not coming back…” You cry out, tapping the call button regardless.

---

Liz is still standing beneath the roof in the pouring rain. Perhaps an hour had passed? Maybe two. She couldn’t keep track. She had been waiting. Waiting for what? She didn’t even know.

“Oppa… if you still have feelings for me, would you call me? I blocked your number before because I was so afraid that I couldn’t stop myself from running back to you the moment I hear you speak. But, I… I don’t dare to call you first, I’m so afraid that you got mad at me. Even you did, I am not blaming you at all. It was my fault that I left you like this… you… you’re just so far away, I’ll never be able to catch up to you.” She sobs.

Liz then feels something vibrating in the pocket of her jeans. She pulls out her phone and the screen is lit. The same lockscreen as yours: you, her, cat ears. She thinks it is her colleague calling to check if she’s home safe.

“Oh my god…” A fire is lit both on her face and inside her heart.

---

“Liz!!! Can you hear me? Liz!!!” You scream as for a miracle; Liz picks up your call.

You can hear nothing but rain dropping to the ground and occasional car-honking. She does not say a world. Only the consistent, non-stopping rain is reminding you she’s still there. Is she listening?

“L…Liz-ah, I am so sorry.” You quiet down, afraid that you’ll scared Liz away and this one and only chance will go to waste. Chill until you at least figure out the reason.

“Liz... I... should’ve not studied when you asked me out.” You start what you know is the chain of confession and apology.

“I… I was so afraid that if I fucked up that test, I would miss that scholarship threshold. If I didn’t get that stipend, I would be forced to go back to my parents’ house and attend school in my hometown! I… I couldn’t risk to leave you, Liz-ah…” You try your best to be calm, but the sobbing betrays you.

She does not say a thing. You can barely hear Liz’s uneven breath through the call, maybe she is giving you a chance? You don’t know, but you proceed.

“I am so sorry Liz… I should’ve been more confident that night. I really looked like a fraud, weren’t I? I must’ve been wolfing down the steak because I’d never been to such a fancy place before, I am sorry if that made us look bad. Liz-ah, please forgive me! I… I was indeed very hungry…” You are a stutter, crying mess although you tried your best to behave.

“Because I ate fucking instant noodles for weeks to save up money! Liz… I promise I’ll work harder; I’ll find a part-time job to give you more. Please! Please give me a chance!” You are both drunk and sad as hell, your neighbor may even call the police if they can see you hysterically screaming into the phone.

She is still speechless. Only a wet, repeating sound of something hitting onto the walk way.

“Thud, thud, thud…”

You see your own lifeline slip through your finger. But you want to give it a last stand.

“Please… don’t hang up! Liz-ah… I didn’t lose interest in you because I visited your boba shop less frequently!” You heart sinks, tears dropping without control. This is the last thing you want her to know. But this may be the final chance you get to talk to her, she has to know.

She deserves to know… even if that makes you look really bad.

“I HAD to cut my daily iced coffee… not because I didn’t want to see you! I switched to drinking Celsius instead… it was cheaper that way. So, I could add one more dozen of pink roses to the bouquet to make it 24… Liz-ah, do you know why?” You sigh, anticipating a response that you have no faith in receiving.

“Because I love you 24 hours a day. Liz…” You fall onto the floor.

Nothing. Only the frantic noise through the phone as the wind blows harshly into her microphone.

There is a weird sense of relief creeping up your chest, you stare into your phone emptily.

“She’s letting me speak, not because she wants to stay, but because she’s kind. Liz was always kind. She’s giving me a final defense before reading out my death sentence. She’s waiting for me to finish so she can say 'Goodbye' and hang up forever.”

You’ll be glad that you made the biggest mistake in this relationship with Liz.

“Liz! I am sorry! I never deserved you …” You scream one last time into the phone.

Weird enough, you hear your own voice echoing back to your ear through the door. Fortunately, the excess alcohol (double digits of cans, to be exact) did not fully take away your ability to speculate.

You dash to your apartment door like a mad dog, swing the door handle open violently. The door smashes your arm but you don’t care. Because Liz is there.

She is a sobbing mess, just like yourself. Her breath is still hitching; her chest moves up and down so fast that you think she is about to pass out. Her makeup is almost gone, only a faint line of her eyeliners staining on each side of her cheeks. Strands of her messy hair stick onto her forehead because of the rain.

“Oppa… I am so sorry…” Liz falls into your chest, looking up to you. Her pretty doll eyes are watery, filled with nothing but pure guilt.

It is at this moment; you figure everything out. Liz was not acting to be patient; she was not trying to offer you her final bit of mercy by letting you finish everything you wanted to say to her before burying your relationship in the past.

She was sprinting in the rain.

She was running like she was about to lose it all.

She was letting the rain showering her slim frame, hoping that can cleanse her guilt.

She was letting the storm brushing through her shaking body, praying that can blow away how much she was mistaken.

Occasional cars drove pass her, splashing water onto Liz. But she didn’t give a damn.  

People gave her weird looks as a girl was running in the rain, crying like someone had hurt her. But Liz couldn’t care less.

Because all she cared was you.

---

She can barely stand from the exhaustion of sprinting a mile in the heavy rain. You gently pull her into the apartment so she doesn’t catch a cold. “Oppa... I owe you an apology… is it too late to apologize?” Liz’s tone is weak, but her gaze with nothing but sincere.

“It is never too late… Liz-ah! I… I am the one that should say sorry.” You take off her rain-soaked jacket, leave it on the couch while pulling her closer.

“Oppa… I thought I was a liability of you… I am so sorry…” Liz murmurs, her chest moves up and down unevenly.

“Liz-ah… you’re never… I can never love you enough. I promise I’ll give you more from now on, would you give me that chance?” You inhale deeply, trying to take in all of her scent. The vanilla shampoo is fading, gradually replaced by the fresh smell of the rain.

“Oppa, I will never leave again!” She sobs.

You stare at her face; she is still gorgeous despite the blurred makeup. Her cheeks are flushed from the intense running, looking a peach that you suddenly have the urge to acquire a taste.

“Liz-ah, we can save that conversation for later. Now we are gonna get you dry before you get sick, ok?” You let her go, fingers caressing her wet hair. Liz’s tiny body is still shaking; you know for a fact that she’d get a fever if a hot shower is not applied soon.

You carefully hold her hand through the messy kitchen area that you didn’t bother to organize at all: bear cans everywhere, some instant noodle crumbs are just idling on the table, dished still yet to be washed.

“Oppa, did you drink all of this?” Liz asks, while sneezes heavily.

“Yeah… was too sad to have you go like this, but hey! Aren’t you here again? Let… let me worry about it later, we’re gonna take of you first, princess.”

She is amused from the title, one hand covering her mouth shyly but her grin is so obvious that she can’t hid even with both of her hands. You turn the water to the hottest temperature; the mirror starts to fog up as you look at Liz and yourself in the reflection.

Now you know how difficult was the past few days for both of you. Liz’s dark circles are almost at the size of her big eyes, her jawline just visibly thinner like yours. There is her tiny smile as she notices you staring at her through the mirror.

You won’t let her go this time. Not again. You turn around and lean in to kiss her.

Her pink lips are like fire that ignites the foggy bathroom, you cup her face with both of your palms as you keep savoring Liz’s plump lips. You both feel the hunger and eagerness that you tried so hard to suppress for days, now it is like a ruthless flood rushing through a falling dam.

Your tongue quickly enters her mouth, swirling with hers like you’re about to lose it all. You are. Your fingers impatiently unbutton Liz’s blouse, while she stumbles back a few steps to sit on the sink for support.

“Oppa…” This time you don’t let her finish, rarely. Days of separation and yearning for Liz had turned you into a desperate soul, if you had any left. Your hands wrap around her back, unhooking her bra in a shaky motion. The straps fall onto her body, revealing the full view of her upper body.

“I… I love you.” You stutter, before diving into her small but beautifully shaped tits. You put one of her nipples into your mouth softly, sucking her carefully. You are letting Liz know that you never abandoned her, instead you are always worshipping her.

“Mmph!” An airy moan comes through her mouth. You don’t stop. You know she needs it.

You flick your tongue back and forth around her nipple, you feel Liz’s breath hitching each time your hungry movement touches her sensitive tip. You don’t ignore the rest of her stunning frame, of course. Hands all over her firm butt – not the biggest in size, but absolutely perfect for you to grab.

Liz starts to feel the sensation that had been absent for the past week as well, her shaking hands are already on her jeans, unzipping the denim herself before lifting her hips to let the fabric drop to the humid wooden floor.

“I wanna see Oppa too, take your pants off for me~.” Her voice is like honey. You oblige without any hesitation. Your fingers are just as unsteady as hers, missing once before unbuckling your belt and kicking off your pants and boxer.

Your length springs free, Liz wraps her hand around it immediately. A shiver travels up your spine, assaulting your brain that you let out an involuntary moan. “I see it now, Oppa is not lying. I still turn you on~” She teases.

“Fuck… Liz, you always did. Always.” You manage to respond with a cracking tone, hands sliding into her plain black pantie with a white bow on the tip. She is already wet. Wet to the point that friction is almost non-existent as your finger slides directly into her juicy pussy.

“And you’re doing the same to me, oppa… you’re stretching me open with you finger… give me more, Oppa.” Liz mumbles into your ear while you bury your face into her other nipple. You leave slurpy, wet kisses all the way from her tits down to her tummy, to between her legs. The mushy, slightly salty scent of arousal dashes directly into your nostril through the thin fabric.

You kiss her folds through her damp panties; Liz’s response is instant. Her body locks tight and her watery eyes lose focus for a heartbeat. You take your time, hands roaming on her inner thighs and you alternate between touches and light scratches with your fingers.

“Oppa… Please do it already!” Liz moans while her legs clamping your head slightly.

“Aw~ Liz babe… look at you, how impatient. Weren’t you the one that made me wait, baby girl?” Suddenly a twisted thought comes across your head: her innocent, aroused face turned you on in such of a wicked way. You always gave her everything without any second thoughts, but maybe you want to listen to her ask for it?

“Honey, you deserve everything from me. But you are going to use your words, say it out loud and I’ll give it to you. Now what do you want from me?” A smirk climbs up to the tip of your lips.

“Hhmph… Oppa, you’re so bad! I… just… please!” Liz’s face turns from a peach into a tomato.

“Oh. Am I the bad one? I thought I was the victim,” you pout with an obviously fake impatience. “I think you are the bad girl that blocked me without a heads up! But it is fine, because I loved you as always… Tell me exactly though, ‘please’ what? Please let go of you so you can shower, right?” You tease.

“Oppa… I hate you! Please… please eat…” She now let’s go of your cock, instead both hands are covering her faces right now. Her face that is so red from the arousal and the embarrassment.

“Please eat a proper meal? Yeah… I’ve been dumping instant noodles into my poor tummy cuz of you, baby Liz? Hmm?” You push one more time.

She snaps. “Ah! Oppaaaa~ Please eat my pussy already! U… use it however you want if it makes you feel better!  T…treat me as your cumdump for the night if you wish… (sobs) I am so sorry Oppa…”

You snap too.

You never expected such lewd words would come from the purest girl you had in your life. But you also did not mean to hurt her even more. You’re here to make her feel your love, not to treat her as someone who exists just to fulfill your desires. You don’t want her to feel sorry for you, you just want her to be there. To simply exist.

So, you answer her by gently pulling off her panties down to her ankles and approach her swollen folds slowly. “Liz-ah… I was just kidding… I’ll make you feel really good. I try.”

You plant a soft kiss on Liz’s clit; her hands reach for your head in a blink of an eye. She pulls you closer as you slowly worship her beautiful pussy. Your lips wrap around her clit, sucking it like you’re tasting the cherry on top of a cupcake. The effect is electric, her body shivers faster – you are certain that it is not because of the rain previously, it is purely from arousal.

You insert your tongue into her folds, gently slides it across Liz’s wet, smooth walls. You look up to her. Her doll eyes are already shut from the sensation and her back arches forward to let you take in more of her.

“Look at me baby, look at how I am taking care of you, how I am making you feel good.” You murmur while your mouth is still doing its work – non-stop licking and kissing.

“Mmph…” Liz opens her eyes; you kneel on the bathroom floor while your head is deep between her thighs. The view makes the gap between her breathes shorter and shorter. “Oppa... don’t stop, I am so close!” Your oral movement is nowhere close to a halt, not when your precious Liz asks you like this.

You keep lapping her pussy with nothing but pure hunger and devotion. “C…come for me, Liz-ah… I am always yours.” You encourage.

“Don’t stop! Oppa… don’t you ever stop!” Liz is almost there, her pupils start to dilate and her thighs clamping even tighter.

“Give it all to me Liz… I’ve been waiting, fuck… I missed you so bad. Come for me…” You plant another soft kiss onto her swollen clit, and there it comes.

“F…fuck! I am coming!” Liz reaches her climax; her legs shake violently that she has to hold on to your head to not fall of from the sink. Her pussy flutters, waves of waves of her nectar flooding into your mouth. You take them all in, licking her folds continuously through her orgasm.  

You get back up on your feet; legs already numb from the kneeling. But you feel so relaxed because you gave Liz the pleasure, she’s always deserved. She pulls you in for an open mouth kiss, tasting herself from your lips.

Maybe a minute had passed, maybe more. You finally pull back, Liz walks into the shower before embracing her from behind. Liz’s body is still trembling from the aftershocks of her orgasm; her thighs slick not just from the shower but from the way she came so hard on your tongue.

You hold her closer, water streaming down her back, washing away the rain and the days of grief. Her small frame fits perfectly against yours, her wet hair plastered to her shoulders, those big doll eyes half-lidded and glassy with lingering pleasure and fresh tears.

“Oppa…” Liz whispers while turning around, barely audible over the spray. Her fingers trace the fading hickey on your neck, then the scarlet scratches she left on your chest the night she thought she was saying goodbye.

“I was so stupid… I thought I was saving you from me.”

You silence her with a deep kiss, tasting the salt of her tears mixed with the clean heat of the water. “No more thinking, Liz-ah. Just feel me. Let me show you how much I need you.”

Liz reads it. She arches her back forward, hands supporting herself on the door handle. Her full, bouncy butt is on full display. You gulp, already anticipating the long-gone warmth of Liz. You waste no time, lining up your itching cock in front of her folds – still wet from the previous release.

“Liz-ah, I… I am going in, let me know any time if you want me to chance anything.” You nervously make an announcement.

“Give it all to me, Oppa… however you like.” She turns her head around, before biting her bottom lip intentionally to allure you.

And it fucking works.

Her fucking dimple always works, never fail to trap you.

“Liz… you’re fucking gorgeous, do you know that?” You grunt, pushing all the way into her slick pussy in one go. She is incredibly wet, and warm like she had always been. Her walls are clenching onto your twitching length so hard like she’s so scared to ever let you go again.

“Mmph… I missed you Oppa… I missed you in me like this, filling me up really good.” Liz moans softly – she normally wouldn’t talk in sex, but you know she means every word if she does say something.

“Liz-ah, I missed you so much too.” You realize you haven’t released yourself for a week too. And as expected, the urge to do so is incredibly strong thanks to how smooth and velvety Liz feels.

Then you start your thrusting. The shower room is like a sauna right now; the mirror had been fogged up and the view of you slamming into Liz’s body becomes a blur.

You hold on to Liz’s hips as you gradually lose yourself into her wetness and warmth. A few breathy moans escape your throat while you keep pushing in and out of Liz in an almost frantic motion. The gut-wrenching self-pitying and loneliness are replaced by neediness and hunger.  

You fuck into her harder, the hot water amplifies the sound of your wet skin slapping onto hers. Liz’s sobs and moans are getting louder at the same time, raw, aroused. “Oppa… just like that, don’t stop please!” Her tone cracks, half from the relief and half from the pleasure after all those empty days.

You lean forward, body pressing again her back. One hand slides up her chest and caresses her tits while the other tightens the grip on her hip. Every thrust is sending ripples through her tiny frame, her ass bounces back against me with each deep stroke.

“Mmph… Liz-ah, you are perfect, so fucking perfect.” You groan against her, kissing her lobe. She whimpers, pushing back harder, her body demanding more. She reaches back, nails scraping your thigh, urging you even deeper.

“I love you… I love you so much, Oppa…” The words tumble out between shaky breaths, her walls fluttering wildly around you. You feel her getting close again, legs trembling, breath coming in short desperate bursts.

You slide your hand down between her legs, rubbing tight circles on her sensitive clit while you keep pounding into her from behind. “Come for me again, baby. Let me feel it.” That’s all it takes.

Liz cries out sharply, her walls pulse violently. Her second wave of climax is doing its work to push you through the finish line with her.

“Liz… I love you…fuck!” You groan, slamming deep one final time. The flood overwhelms your sanity, your cock twitches violently, spilling every drop of your own essence inside her. You keep yourself deep inside her until the mixture of your nectar and her juice leaks out around your cock and running down Liz’s thighs. You stay locked together, panting heavily, her back still pressed to your chest as the water keeps pouring over you both.

Slowly you pull out, turning her gently to face you. Her eyes are glassy, cheeks flushed deep pink, that sweet dimple showing even now. You kiss Liz softly at first, then deeper, holding her tight under the steady spray.

There’s no word needed. You’ve already found your rhythm under the pouring, warm water.

Neither of you want to move as you two enjoy the most perfect moment. Euler’s stupid little formula doesn’t even come close in terms of perfection.

---

A proper shower took place. You took your time washing every inch of your purest angel clean, before wrapping her around with a big towel and kiss your forehead gently. Liz laughs shyly, “Oppa~”

“Hmm?” You raise an eye brow.

“I… I didn’t bring my clothes over, hehehe…” She smiles.

“Ah, that is no problem at all Miss, I shall be right back.”

You walk into your bedroom and open your wardrobe. There is that oversized T-shirt you always let her “borrow” when she stayed over. You return to the bathroom, patiently putting the shirt on Liz’s tiny body. The tip of the shirt even reaches her knees and you cannot stop yourself from laughing. She’s back.

“Stop~ Oppa…” Liz blushes.

“Alright princess… it was a really… tough night. We shall get some rest?” You offer.

“Yes, Oppa.” Liz nods quietly.

To her surprise, you scoop her into your princess carry. Liz keeps laughing, mumbling something like, “Let me down!” or “Are we really doing this?”

She then notices the fading hickey on your neck. She then kisses the mark she left on you last week, bringing your attention back to her.

“Hmm?” You ask.

“The hickey, Oppa. I thought it was a farewell kiss.” Liz says.

“That’s too naïve of you babe, it is a milestone and a new beginning.” You pout, putting her onto your bed.

You fall onto the mattress after her, no more mess, just clean sheets and each other. You pull the duvet over both of you, the fabric still smelling faintly of the laundry detergent you stole from Liz a month ago - a scent you had spent the last week burying your face in while you sobbed.

“Oppa?” she whispers, her voice small and muffled against your skin.

“Yeah, babe?”

“No more skipping meals,” she says, and you feel her grip on your shirt tighten. “I heard everything. I was running, and I was crying, and I was so mad at myself…” Liz looks up, “I thought I was the one distracting you.”

“L…Liz-ah, I… was trying so hard to be someone who can give you everything. But I forgot to be the man that just… loves you with my heart.” You confess with a shaky laugh.

She leans in, her forehead resting against yours.

“Tomorrow,” she whispers, a tired dimple appearing. “We’re going to the market. We’re buying real food. And then... I’m taking you to the shop. I’m making you the biggest boba on the menu, and you’re going to sit there and watch me work, and you aren’t going to think about a single equation. Okay?”

“Okay Liz.” you breathe out, the last of the tension leaving your shoulders.

---

Morning.

The sun does not come out like it is supposed to, like a grand finale of a fiction. But you have Liz still snoring quietly on your side. And that’s enough. That’s more than enough.

You stare at outside of the window, the rain is still going non-stop, the sky is still dim. But you reach out for your phone, unlocking it and go directly into the settings. Your fingers move fast, and a satisfied smirk is on your face.

You put your phone back onto the night stand and hide yourself back under the duvet again.

Your phones are side by side; you tap both of the screens at the same time. The identical picture shows up on the lockscreen.

You.

Liz.

With cat ears.

Colorful this time. The black and white filter is gone.

-

Gaeul pulls up her underwear then turns to the other two girls and asks, "is Rei running late?"

"She's probably humping another stranger." Wonyoung retorts, laughing a little under her breath, hiding her smile from Gaeul by turning toward the mirror. She picks up the red lipstick laid out on the vanity table and brushes it across her plump lips.

"She's not coming here," Yujin explains. "She's going to the party with Liz."

"And we're okay with that?" Wonyoung raises an eyebrow and looks at Yujin through the mirror.

"Don't worry, I already added Liz to the list to make up for it."

"Really? Just like that?" Gaeul is quick to speak with a little worry in her voice.

"Really," Yujin smirks. "Also, I think Rei is giving up on the whole fucking strangers thing. She had another disappointment today."

"Oh right. That explains it." Wonyoung places the lipstick down and picks up the earrings laid out in front of her. "She did ask me if she could borrow our friend for a night and get some good dick."

"She did?" Yujin's interest seems peaked by the comment, as she casts her gaze out and off into the distance.

"Yes," Wonyoung punctuates her statement with a firm nod. "Wouldn't surprise me if she already hopped on that this afternoon."

"I was with him this afternoon, Wony, so..." Yujin trails off.

"Did he rush off?" Gaeul asks and Yujin frowns slightly at the thought of you dumping her to go fuck her friend. "At least he's in safer hands with Rei instead of that slut from the bar," Gaeul utters her words through an aggravated grumble as she sits in her chair, leaning in toward her mirror to finish the final touches to her makeup.

"Slut?" Yujin asks, picking up a bra from her dresser. She pulls the straps over her bare shoulders, slips her arms through, and clasps it behind her back.

"Minju."

"Minju Minju? Kim Minju?" The half-naked Yujin looks at Wonyoung for confirmation.

"Yes," Wonyoung says as elegantly as ever, standing tall and turning away from the mirror. "Now, will one of you help me into this dress?"

"Wait." Yujin raises a hand. "He was at a bar with Minju? Drinking? When?"

"Yesterday," Gaeul says as she stands up and collects Wonyoung's dress and carries it over to the naked and waiting woman.

Wonyoung is waiting with her hands on her bare hips. Her slender body is smooth and exposed. She is a thing of perfect symmetry with her flat stomach and small but perky breasts. "Yeah, and they were doing a lot more than drinking."

"Wonyoung," Yujin steps toward her, one hand on her elbow and the other softly clenched by her chest. "What are you saying?"

"Let's just say..." Gaeul pauses to let Wonyoung step into her dress and then she drags it up and lets her slide her arms into it. "A lot of bars smell. But most of them aren't locked when they should be open and don't smell of sex when they finally let you in."

Wonyoung settles into her dress, and Gaeul fits it tightly to her frame. Wonyoung lifts her hair up and lets it fall over her shoulders. "You should hurry up if you want to make the most of him, Yujin, before everyone you know has used him, and you'll be the last." Wonyoung looks at Gaeul who's still touching the dress up behind her. "Well, almost the last."

"Who says I want to..."

"Please Yujin." Wonyoung interrupts. "I'm sure the teasing is fun and all, but trust me, nothing compares to a good, proper fucking." Wonyoung stretches her arm to the dresser to pick up her necklace which's expensive enough to put a pair of twins through university three times over. Wonyoung places it against her neck, holding the ends out for Gaeul. She bunches her hair up again for Gaeul to clasp it. "Am I right, Gaeul?"

Gaeul keeps silent while she works. Fastening the hook and letting it drop along the nape of Wonyoung's pale white neck and hang just over her collarbones.

"I have plenty of time," Yujin says. "We're keeping him around, aren't we?" She flips her head as she runs her hand through her hair. She slips a finger beneath one of the bra's straps and adjusts its position on her shoulder. 

"Well, that is the plan." Wonyoung nods after letting her hair fall again. “He doesn’t have much choice now.”

"Oh, he will have a choice,” Yujin speaks through a smirk. “But the result will be the same."

-

"I like things dirty. Natural. That’s just me."

That's her response to you asking exactly how she lives in the hellhole you just left. An answer as serious as you will ever get from Minju.

There's an awkward couple of seconds where you check to see the driver's reaction and you lock eyes through his rear view. The narrow cut of his face doesn't give you the full expression and you can't tell if he's disturbed or impressed. After a moment it passes and you focus back on the girl to your side.

"Where do you even eat?" you ask.

"Take-out, duh." You both share a look and Minju is smiling with her eyes. "I just put it on my lap when I sit down."

"But where do you sit? The ground?"

"Preferably on your co—"

"Hey, we're close now." You cut her off before she makes it even more uncomfortable for the driver.

"Swing a right here," Minju calls out to him. He shoots another look back in the mirror, this time his furrowed brows show his annoyance. "And pull up on the left."

Minju telling the guy how to do his job is actually a very Minju thing to do. As unappreciated as it may be.

You check your watch. Fifteen minutes late. Great. Hopefully, you can slip in and the girls won't notice. You could play it off cool, say you've been there all along and they must have missed you. You would have to slip away from Minju though, she would give the game away.

Maybe she reads your face, or the silence might have been a clue. Minju taps your shoulder and tells you not to worry. Stop caring about what others think and just walk in like you own the place.

You step out first and rush around to get to Minju's door. She scoffs as you open it. "And they say chivalry is dead." Her words come paired with a grin. You offer your hand to hers which she takes and uses to help pull her up. She straightens herself out, and checks to see that her skirt is all aligned before looking up at you.

You close the door and the driver is quick to pull away. "Hey, Minju, maybe you can go in first and then I will—"

"Shh." She locks her arm around yours at the elbow. "Stop. Just walk."

She pulls, tugging you alongside her, you adjust your footing to walk alongside, arm in arm, as she guides you up the stairs to the man at the door. Minju rests her head on your shoulder. You don't ask, don't protest. You can feel how easy it is, with her walking at your side, and so you say nothing. Just like she wants.

The six-foot-four bouldering giant is the first to speak, "Minju. Haven't seen you here for a while. Welcome back." His wide face, chiselled with age and experience, splits in a welcoming grin.

Minju softly bows her head and you follow her lead. "Been busy," is the reply she gives.

The security gives one single nod and replies, "As they say, a busy person doesn't have time to be unhappy." He grins even wider this time.

Minju ignores the impromptu attempt at philosophy and you both pass by into the house. The place is huge; of course it is—it's a mansion in the hills. But even from the outside, you couldn't have expected this.

Straight ahead is a huge, curved stairwell. On either side of you, it opens into a series of corridors already full of a smattering of guests. Music pours from off to the left. The unmistakable rhythm of that one K-pop song you heard all last week but still don't know the name of. People are sitting around, lounges filled with men in the latest fashion and women dressed to perfection. Most if not all with drinks in hand.

"Let's get us a drink." Minju pulls gently on your arm. "I'm thinking tequila."

There's not much else you can do right now. Your hope of making a low-key appearance, blending in with the crowd and slipping through unnoticed, is completely lost now as Minju takes a long, slow and deliberate approach through the place. She keeps your arm linked with hers, and as she saunters, her stride is swayed.

You feel the call to arms. You straighten your back, broaden your shoulders and strut like you belong. A few heads turn. Probably more for her than you, but the confidence still builds. There's not a single person in sight you think who could question whether you belong or not. The trick, you realise, is not to doubt yourself. Just walk in like you own the place. Minju’s words echo in your mind.

Two girls catch your gaze from the corner of your eye. They have their hands by their mouth, sharing unheard whispers while looking in your direction as you walk by. It takes a few moments, to narrow them down and figure it out. It's the two girls who fought outside school the other day, clearly having settled their differences.

You both enter the kitchen to find a young woman wrestling a bottle of champagne. Rei struggles over and over until it eventually pops, much to her delight. She lets out a loud squeal of surprise and looks over at two of her companions who took a step back when it popped.

Rei's friend stands just behind her, stifling an unheard giggle. She takes the bottle from Rei's hands and begins to pour. Golden bubbles into a set of four flutes.

That's when Rei finally notices you. She screams some incoherent words and throws her arms around you, almost knocking you off balance to the floor and taking Minju with you. The girl is already drunk.

"Oh my god! Come, come, uncle, meet my friends."

"Uncle?" Minju remarks.

"Don’t ask," you whisper from the corner of your mouth before Rei pulls the pair of you along.

"This is Liz." She points to the lady with the silver-purple hair, holding the bottle of champagne. She wears a thin black lace choker on her neck above the low cut of her top. As well as a pair of black leather trousers that run into her heeled boots. Rei throws her arms around Liz's waist. "Hey Liz, did I tell you about my new sexy uncle who saves me like a knight?"

Her question meets a look of confusion and a narrow-eyed glance at you. The girl smiles at you, in a forced what-the-fuck-is-happening kind of way. She says something to Rei that you can't quite make out over the sounds of conversation around you.

One of the other girls picks up her glass before introducing herself. "Sakura." She holds out an elegant hand. A pretty girl with delicate features, a flawless complexion, and pink waves that flow over her shoulders. You reach out and take her hand. "Welcome to my house. I don't believe we have met." Her accent is lyrical and pronounced, with the right amount of cute.

You introduce yourself and barely finish doing so before Minju takes over. "Long time no see. Both of you. Come here Nako, Kkura." Minju breaks her lock with your arm to go embrace the two girls. She hugs the girls with affection. No love lost between them.

She's asking them a series of the usual questions. How's life? How are you doing? What happened to the person with the name you don't recognise? Have they moved to Australia? They did? How many months ago?

Then Sakura turns her attention to you.

"It is good you have a new friend." She tells Minju. "Did you meet him at a shoot?"

You think that's a compliment, at least.

Rei laughs before Minju corrects Sakura, "he's in my class, Kkura. He isn't a model." Rei tells her, still laughing. "I see what you're saying though, it's the eyes. Put him on an ad and I'm buying."

"I like his cheekbones," Kkura responds.

"I'm right here, ladies." They're talking like you're not in the room and your face is starting to burn.

"Sorry." Kkura's voice is sugary sweet. Her smile and coy gaze even more so. "Enjoy your night. I have more guests to greet." Sakura spins and struts away with Nako in tow, before stopping beside two men that seem a little lost.

"Come." Rei tugs your arm, almost spilling her drink on you. "What are you two drinking?" she asks, not waiting for a response.

"I'll just have a beer—"

"Tequila." Minju doesn't miss a beat.

"I don't think there's tequila..." Rei steps toward the liquor bottles and Liz silently follows.

"Ugh." Minju doesn't try to hide her disdain. "The champagne then." She looks over and picks up two full champagne flutes from the table.

"Did you two get a card yet?" Rei asks.

"Card?" you ask back.

"No, we haven't," Minju says before turning to you and handing you a glass. "Didn't anyone tell you? That's the rule tonight. Everyone has to take a card with a challenge that they have to complete, with evidence or a witness. Anyone who fails to do it by eleven has to do a forfeit."

"Does everyone know what's on the cards or what the forfeit is?"

"Nope," she winks, before downing her glass of champagne. "That's the fun. So what did you girls get?"

"Mine was easy," Rei says. "All I had to do was kiss a guy wearing white. Did that as soon as I came in." Rei points off into a distance somewhere. You can't make out where the finger ends its aim.

"And you, Liz?" you ask, and she avoids any eye contact with you.

"She might have to forfeit." Rei laughs. "Tell them what you got." She pats her friend on the back.

"Um, I— I have to... finger a woman..." She just about squeezes the words from her lips before she quickly takes a drink. Hiding her burning face behind a hand.

Minju's eyes open wide and you hear Rei giggle into her drink. "Have you ever?" you ask, and there's no need for her to answer you. The look of anxiety and panic on her face tells you everything.

"I offered to help," says Rei. "You know, as a friend. Still stands by the way."

"Thanks..." Liz forces the response through her covered mouth.

"What other stuff is in there?" you ask, pondering the possibilities.

"Liz probably got one of the hardest." Rei shrugs. "Some of them are just about drinking or other stupid dares."

"Or she got the best one," Minju comments. "We better get ours." Minju slides her arm around yours again.

Rei leans into you before you leave, whispering, "If it's a tough one, I can help." Then she slips away and Minju pulls on your arm.

"Thanks, girls, see you soon."

The rest of the crowd fills the rooms you walk through. People are already on the dance floor, holding their drinks as they bounce, or holding onto other people as the rhythm guides their bodies together.

In the next room, there are two tables, each with a person behind and people crowding at each of them. "So these are the cards, right? I hope I get an easy one..."

"I hope you get a tough one. What if you have to suck a cock?" Minju asks.

"Then I take a forfeit."

"Okay but what if the forfeit is that you have to suck two cocks?" She jokes and laughs.

"Funny..."

"Alright. I'm going first."

You're just about to follow her in when you hear your name called from behind. You know the voice without looking back, a smooth melody in song and one that tenses your body up. As Minju walks away, Yujin walks toward you.

You turn and there she is. Wow. It's only been a few hours since you saw her last, and yet, like every other time you see her, she blows you away. The red dress is, honestly, amazing. Fitting tightly at the waist, flattering her shape and highlighting those hips. As ever, she gave the outfit her own personal flair, wearing it a little different than when she tried it on earlier, with one strap off the shoulder now. The thing about Yujin is that, sure, someone could wear the same clothes as her, but they could never wear them like she does.

She has changed her hair too, pinning part of it up behind a piece of jewelled decoration. And then there's that smile. Perfect, dazzling. Full lips curled slightly at the sides, pearlescent teeth peeking through. The sparkling glint of her deep eyes looking up at yours.

She sees through the silence. "What's wrong? What are you staring at?" Her little giggle comes with a poke to the centre of your chest. It brings your focus back to reality. "Don't I look okay?"

"Yeah— of course— Yujin—" You say her name as if she isn't the absolute centre of your attention. She giggles a second time and draws a circle in the centre of your chest with her forefinger, tracing it and smiling as you struggle for words.

"What, do I have lipstick on my teeth or something?" She brings a manicured fingertip across her grin and you shake your head in return.

"Not that I can see," you answer.

"Then what are you staring at? See something you want?" She's teasing you but you manage to stumble through the answer.

"You look..." It doesn't matter what words you try and find. She does that half-lidded, cocking her head thing to the side and you're lost again. Lost to her, hypnotised by her. It's embarrassing.

The giggle grows into a laugh, her shoulders shrugging with amusement as she closes her eyes for a second, shaking her head softly. She places her hand on your collar, smoothing over the edge of your blazer and then adjusting it over your shoulders. "You dressed up well. Not used to seeing you in something so smart." She runs her hands down the front of your blazer, pressing it against your body to straighten it. "You look good," Yujin says with a final, gentle pat at the centre of your chest.

"I need to take a card." You brush over the compliment—you’ve never really been that good at taking them.

"Better hurry up before they're all gone, you don't want to have to do the forfeit. Once you get one, make sure you find me." She pokes her finger into your chest. "It's important, okay?" She bats her eyelashes at you. You promise you'll be there, you're sure of it, and then with a final smile, she leaves and heads towards a different room, slipping into the crowds.

The whole exchange is over far too quickly. The phantom touch of Yujin's fingers lingers on your chest, even as she disappears. You would stand, spellbound forevermore, a statue set upon the tiles, if it wasn't for the fact you look a complete fool standing and staring into nothing.

You turn to the tables and can't spot Minju in the crowd. You spend some time waiting, working your way forward as people collect their cards until you're at the front. A woman holds out a deck of face-down cards and you draw one from it, slip it into your pocket and quickly move on.

"You look lost. Like a lamb." The unmistakable sound of Wonyoung's voice rings out. "I'm surprised you even showed up. Last I heard you were crying into a whiskey." Her laugh has the venom of a snake, with an even worse bite. Her purple dress hugs her slender frame. It clings to the sharp contours of her shoulders. An expensive jewelled necklace rests in the centre of her bare upper chest.

"I wasn't crying..." You deny the accusation.

Wonyoung presses her hands to your shoulders, forcing you into place as she meets your eyes. "Wasn’t sure if you would show your face tonight. Don’t worry, no one knows what happened, and I can keep it that way." There's something about Wonyoung that always feels intimidating, especially now, with how her eyes seem to trap you and the way her voice plays out so assured, full of certainty and purpose. "But it’s a good thing you’re here. I need you."

"What do you mean?" It's been barely a minute and she's already asking things of you. She just brushes over the storm she caused and the damage she could have done to your life.

Wonyoung leans close and moves her lips to your ear. "You know that idiot boyfriend of mine? Well, I need him to catch us."

"You're joking, right?" you ask, and then after a brief moment of silence her message sinks in and you realise she isn't joking. "Haven’t we done enough damage?"

"I’m already solving your school issue, so the least you can do is help me out." She dismisses your problems as always. "Right now I need you to focus and help me make him break up with me." Wonyoung strokes your cheek. "Does that sound doable?"

You bite down into your lip, trying to contain your emotions and to keep your annoyance from bubbling to the surface.

"Great thanks. I will find you when I need you." With a cruel and patronising tap to your head, Wonyoung smiles smugly.

"I didn't even agree."

"You never said no to fucking me before. And it's not like Minju's pussy even comes close to mine."

She flashes a dark grin at you before disappearing through the crowds. Fuck you do have a type of girl, and fuck does Wonyoung and her attitude get under your skin. In some sick and twisted way, it still turns you on. Fuck.

It's probably about time to get away. To leave the party and this fucked up life. Anyone with a little bit of sense would. In the end, you just settle for going to the bathroom.

-

For five minutes you have been waiting and the line hasn't budged. Too many people waiting to use a single bathroom.

"You're Minju's date right?" You turn to find the pink-haired girl from earlier standing beside you. The one who owns this place. Her thin lips curve to a gentle, elegant smile that cuts across her pale complexion. You realise now, stood beside her, how dainty she is. Her petite frame matches her cute voice. "Are you waiting in line?"

"Yeah, I—" you reply, not fully sure where the question is leading but her widening smile interrupts you.

"Follow me." She starts walking, expecting you to not question her command. You walk behind her, her slim frame adorned elegantly in light fabric. Pink waves flow over her bare, exposed shoulder. Her heels strike the floor with a rhythm of confidence. She glides gracefully with poise and intent. Her every step is punctuated with a swagger you cannot match.

With her hair bobbing softly, she calls out your name. "Up here. Then the third door on the right. My close friends are allowed upstairs. And you, I guess."

"Oh. Thank you."

She says nothing else, just gliding away and leaving you at the base of the stairs.

After a quick climb you find the door she described. It's unassuming, a standard wooden door that looks identical to all the others. You put a hand to the cold metal and push. A coolness greets your fingers as the gap opens and you let yourself inside.

The bathroom is pristine. Immaculate. Spacious. Porcelain and polished. Glass and stainless steel. There's the familiar hum of a ventilation unit set into the ceiling, the fans circling in constant rotation. To the back, a large double shower, framed by the marble walls and lit by the mood-setting hue of soft lights.

Finally, a room in this place that, to your relief, is empty.

When you've finished up you head to the sink and wash. You lean over it to study yourself in the mirror, one last touch up of your hair and a pull to straighten out the creases of your clothes.

Then the door crashes open.

Rei stumbles in with all the poise of a newborn calf. "Hey, sexy uncle. Didn't know you were in here. How is my aunt?" She laughs in a raspy slur. "What were you doing? Oh." Her finger taps against her bottom lip, trying her best to appear conspiratorial.

"Nothing, I—"

Rei continues. "Playing with yourself?" She points to the zipper you forgot to close. "Hope you think about me."

You give your answer and say, "actually, I was just doing normal toilet stuff. Nothing weird."

"Boring." She declares, slamming the door behind her. Rei ignores you as she walks over to the toilet, slipping her hand under her dress and pulling down her underwear. You're immediately heading to the door, giving her the privacy she didn't even bother to ask for. "Where are you going uncle?"

"Back to the party." You're just about to turn the doorknob when her voice hits you in the back.

"Don't go. Don't leave me all alone."

You sigh, slouching your shoulders and loosening your grip on the door. "Only if you agree to stop calling me uncle."

"Okay, okay. Promise,” she says and then she mumbles something, laughing as she does. Eventually, she speaks loud enough to hear. "Stop staring at the door. You can look at me."

You turn to find her sitting there. A small pair of panties by her ankles. A smile on her face. Her smooth thighs jutted out from the bottom of her dress, bare down to her heels.

"Thanks again," Rei says. "You saved me today."

"Happy to help." You walk towards the sink and mirror again, unsure what to do with yourself.

Luckily, Rei refuses silence. "What's going on with you and Minju?" Unluckily, she's chosen the worst topic of conversation.

"We just met. We're friends I guess."

"Just buddies," she says playfully. "Fuck buddies."

"Do you only ever think about sex?" You ask, turning away and towards your reflection. Your question is answered only with the sound of her flushing the toilet.

There's the briefest moment of silence that follows until you can hear her steps on the tiles. She walks to your side, washing her hands and staring at you in the reflection. "I do actually. Especially when I was supposed to cum five hours ago and still haven't had the chance to finish myself off."

This girl is unfiltered. It's commendable that she is so true to her desires. So bold and honest in the face of the fear of judgment.

"Or maybe it's when I'm in the same room as an incredibly hot guy and my panties are still on the floor." There's a lustful rasp to her voice now. You turn to look at her, at the full, sparkling light in her eye, and you let your gaze wander lower. You stray to her shoulder, where her dress hangs loose. The dress clung across her frame, covering her bust but leaving enough for your imagination to formulate the shape of them beneath.

"Rei..." You draw her name out to a few syllables and with it a few extra moments for your thoughts to come together. "What are you thinking?"

"What is your thing?" Her question catches you off guard. "What do you like?" Rei brings her thumb to her lips, pushing it into her mouth and sucking gently. "Do you really like getting your cock sucked? What do you want?"

Her fingers stroke your chin. Soft pads massage and caress with a teasing, tantalising touch. Her face gets closer, inch by inch, and you can smell the sweet scent of her perfume. You can hear her ragged breath as she loses control. And your heart, beating like a drum inside your chest.

"I owe you one. And I'm ready to do anything." She says it with such unashamed candour and it sets your cheeks aflame.

"Do you do this for everyone who is nice to you?" you whisper.

She shakes her head, "only the really fucking hot ones."

You're close. Your breathing is shallow. Every part of you tells you it's a bad idea, but that's what is so enticing. That's why your cock is pulsing. She reaches forward and rubs her palm gently up and down over the bulge.

She gives you a gentle wink. "Tell me what you want. What's your favourite part of me? And don't give me something sappy like my humour. Think with your cock." As she says the words she squeezes her grip on it. Her fingers slowly closing, holding and massaging. Her lips are soft, slightly parted. That adorable face. Sparkling eyes. And the taste of the words that lingers on your lips.

"You have great legs." You indulge her in an answer.

"See, now was that so hard?" She buries her hand into your trousers through the open zipper. "So what will it be? My thighs? Knees? My feet? I usually don't like when people see my feet but if you're that desperate to cum on them. They're all yours."

You drop a hand down by her side and reach to grab her leg by the thigh. "You have great thighs."

You swear the excitement on her face could light up the city. "There we go. Tell me what you want to do." She pushes her hand around in your trousers, fishing out your cock.

You lean into her ear. "I want you to wrap those beautiful thighs around my cock." You can't believe the words you're saying to her. Neither can she. The sound of her shallow breath is ragged as she runs it through her mind. She nods.

"Then I will."

Rei gently strokes you to life, massaging you until the blood begins to rush. Soon enough, you are ready, hard and hungry. Your pulse quickens with every gentle rub of her hand. You slip a hand around the back of her neck. "Not a word to anyone." Your words make her giggle and she responds with a breathless shush.

You turn her to the sink, putting her between you and it and she releases your cock. Rei spits in her hand while you're hiking her dress up over her bare ass and then she reaches behind her to cover your cock in her saliva. With one hand you guide your cock and she gasps with excitement as you rest your length between her legs, pressing and grinding.

Rei looks at you through the mirror and smirks as she pressed her legs together, closing your slick cock between her thighs. "Use me. I want to see you enjoy this."

Your arms wrap her torso. You grab a firm breast through her clothes as your other arm wraps her. Pull her closer to you. Your mouth against her ear, feeling the warmth of her, breathing in the soft scents from her perfumes, you inhale it all.

Your mouth parts and you groan with the growing sensation building inside you. Her legs squeeze tightly around you as you slip back and forth between them. The way they hold you is incredible, snug and slick. Her skin smooth and grasping.

Rei reaches between her legs, putting her delicate touch on the tip of your cock poking between her legs. Her fingers pull at you, directing your cock higher between her thighs. Before long, you feel her folds envelop the tip. As wet as ever. Rei squeezes and grinds, pushing your tip against her clit.

"I want it all," she hisses through her teeth. You grip her flesh, holding her on the edge of what she craves. Slipping between her thick thighs over and over again, refusing to drive into her cunt.

You pull at her nipples through her dress. Tease. Bite her ear. Kiss her shoulder. Run your nose up her neck. Inhale her perfume. And the most torturous thing to ever do to Rei:

Slow down.

Your thrusts between her legs become measured. Deliberate. Long, hard and powerful motions, dragging over her slit. She whimpers, "why are you making me wait?"

In the mirror her features flush, eyes clench closed and lips tremble. A flush of red flows through her skin. Her breath quickens, rasping between every uttered plea. Your dick is throbbing. Your senses electrifying. Every part of you tenses with the burning urge. Every cell and sinew wants to drive into that incredible cunt but the drumroll is exquisite.

"Do it," Rei begs. The anticipation becoming a torrent for her, as much as your own, the joy of desire and the torment of denial.

"When I'm ready," is all the answer she will get from you.

"Please. I have needed a good cock all day." Her words fill the cool room. They bounce from the hard white surfaces. Dancing to the hum of the ventilation.

"This is you saying thank you, isn't it?" you growl into her ear. "My choice. I want your tits first."

Her lips utter the words 'whatever you want, yes' a few times over. Each utterance pleading, begging; each one filled with desire. Desperate to ease the tension inside, she quickly reaches up her back and unzips her dress for you. She peels it open to reveal her bare back and the strap of her bra.

You work at her bra while she slips out of her dress. It's all so rushed. Almost clumsy. Everything is loose now, and she shakes it all off, kicking it all to the side and turning to you, completely naked. "Fuck, you're hot," you say before realising. The words slip from you, unplanned, raw, genuine.

"I know." Rei grins and then she cups her tits, two perfect handfuls. "So you like these, huh?"

You nod.

She squeezes them, flesh spilling between spread fingers. "And if I give you them, then will you fuck me?"

She pouts those soft lips that drive you wild. She arches her back and presents them for you, waiting, hands by her side. Eager. The invitation is unmistakable. You bend her backwards against the sink, arching her lower back over the marble top and then pressing your body against her. "Yes."

You lower your head and smile at her, her stiff nipple right by your lips. You blow a warm, heavy stream of air over it and she giggles softly. You don't just take her offered tits. Not yet. Instead, you kiss between them, wrapping your tongue to lick up her torso, upwards toward her collarbones. You nibble the protrusion gently with your teeth. Her breaths become short sharp puffs as her body tenses with each graze.

You run your tongue back down again, towards a nipple. You take it into your mouth, licking and then biting. Slowly pulling at her nipple with your teeth, stretching and toying, listening for her moaning, soft and suppressed, with a rising note of pleasure.

She pats at the back of your head and squirms at each pinch of your teeth. You switch nipples, wetting it in your mouth and sucking at it, allowing it to release with a popping sound, and then giving it a quick bite.

Your hands begin to travel across Rei's body—traversing and wandering in their exploration of her skin. Grabbing and feeling, always squeezing her softness with lust in one moment and adoration the next.

"Can't wait any longer,” she says in frustrated impatience. Rei strokes the back of your head, raking her nails against your scalp. She leans back, supporting herself on one arm and pushing her chest out towards your face. She closes her eyes and hums.

You think that Rei enjoys a little more biting than is conventional. Enjoying a small amount of pain with her pleasure, you know it when she moans loudly every time your teeth tug at her sensitive flesh. Her hands pull at the base of your skull and grasp at your hair. Her body moves beneath you, desperate to find any sort of friction between her legs. You can see the pleasure and pain in her expressions alternating between one another. Rei moans your name out. A hushed whisper, begging you to fuck her. To put her out of her misery.

"Patience," you tell her. The single word causing so much frustration.

She groans through gritted teeth before buckling under your teasing. Rei mutters, "Just fuck me with your big fucking cock already." Her hands desperately pull you from her chest, but you refuse. She continues her pleas; begging you to stop being so cruel; to take mercy on her; that her aching cunt can't wait another second.

She's reaching for your trousers now, unfastening them and pushing them away from your hips so they fall to your ankles.

"On your knees first." 

Rei's eyes go wide at your demands.

She pouts, but the blush on her cheeks is unmistakably eager. She falls from the sink onto her knees. Rei has that look in her eyes, an appetite, and it shows as clear as day. You're holding her by the hand and pulling her as you find a seat on the side of the bath.

Rei crawls over, a naughty grin plastered across her face. She presses her palms onto your knees and parts your legs for her to take her place between them. As soon as she has a close-up of the prize, she all but licks her lips with excitement, grasping a hold of it tightly. "Oh god, it's so big," Rei's eyes light up in delight as she feels the thickness and weight. "Fuck me. Why did you keep this big, beautiful cock from me until now?"

Her fingers run up and down over it gently—just soft grazes against your skin. Soothing. Tender. When her tongue first touches the underside of your head, it sends shivers through you. Rei drags it up, sliding and caressing, all the while keeping eye contact with her fluttering, batting gaze. Then she runs the very tip across her plump, kissable lips, leaving behind a wet line before diving forward and wrapping her mouth around you.

A soft 'fuck' escapes you at the warmth of her mouth engulfing you. She smiles, pulling away and then admiring your cock with her teeth biting the flesh of her bottom lip. Rei kisses her way down the bottom of your shaft before just staring at it again. "It's so perfect. Your cock is literally a fucking work of art."

"It's going to look even better pressed between those beautiful tits," you reply to her compliment.

She takes the hint and pushes her tits towards it. "My tits love your cock already." Rei presses your cock against her nipple and pushes, teasing. "But not as much as my pussy will."

"Rei." Her eyes are lost in their new interest. You run a hand over the side of her face. The soft skin of her cheek. Pushing her hair behind an ear. Touching her lips gently with your thumb. "Will you put those amazing tits to good use? For me?" You ask as you push your thumb into her mouth, which makes her look up at you and she accepts it.

She nods her agreement.

"Good girl, Rei," you reply. Your voice is calm, smooth, and silky. The reaction you receive is everything you could hope for. Her pupils widen, her ears redden, and her face flushes. The combination of praise, and a dominant tone and touch, seems to really make her glow.

Rei obliges to the command.

Wet with her saliva, Rei's breasts wrap around your aching cock with ease. Her skin is soft and velvety. Flesh mouldable and forgiving. So warm. So smooth. Perfect.

Once your cock is settled between the swell of her breasts, Rei rocks her chest against it. A steady movement up and down; the sensual rubbing of flesh. Rei looks up at you, the hunger written plain to read across her face as she slides her tits against you. Her fingers intertwine across her tits, holding them together. She moans gently against your thumb as your cock continues to protrude from her cleavage over and over. The sounds reverberate inside her warm, wet mouth, stimulating as they tickle against your skin.

The ache inside you, the tense of muscle and flexed sinews—it builds. Pools and twists and heats in the centre of your body. Rei moans again. She talks through it too. The thumb pressing inside her mouth inhibits it only slightly. "I need it in my pussy. I would even take it in my ass right now. I need you."

Truth is, you need to fuck her just as badly now, too. "Stand." Immediately, Rei's shoulders drop as she pulls her breasts away and follows your order. "Bend over the sink."

"Finally." She's grinning when she moves. Placing her feet wide and leaning on the marble of the sink. You follow her every step.

You run a hand down her leg, gripping behind the knee and hooking it into the air, planting her leg onto the surface. She's open and so very willing. You draw your cock against her a final time, watch her contorted face in the mirror, and then slide into her.

Her eyes flash open and her jaw drops agape. A breathless silence. Now a burst of laughter broken by gasps for air. She grins and giggles and moans as you pound into her from behind. Her small hands claw against the sink, scrambling for something to hold to stabilise herself and support against the onslaught.

A hand on her hip to keep her in place, you reach the other to her neck. You grab and pull, rearing her back. Draw her flush with your body. Her soft skin against your chest. Her long hair is on your shoulder. She laughs again as you do it, sweet pleasured giggles that just don't stop.

"Harder, harder." She strains the words through the squeezing of her throat.

"Like it rough?" you spit into her ear and her lips turn in a grin.

"Like it rough." Her voice a coarse mess. Saliva runs from the corner of her mouth, tinted pink by her lipstick.

You slide your grip up from her neck, fingers along her jaw, thumb and finger pressed into her cheeks. "Fuck. You were right. Pussy so good I can see why guys struggle with you." You pull her head backwards and grind deeper into her. Tight and wet. Her cunt hugs so perfectly around your length that you worry she won't let you out.

"Wony was right. Best. Fuck. Ever." Every single thrust draws the words out into a pathetic moan, and then she laughs again and she strains to force more words. "Gonna cum."

You slip your hand back down to her throat and she grabs at your wrist, not to resist your grip or pull you free, only to reassure and to let you know what she wants. You grip and squeeze.

"Cum for me you pretty slut." Your voice is husky as your will consumes you. Her cries fill the bathroom, her ecstatic bliss heard a thousand times over as she feels her ecstasy roll through.

There is no gentle passing through her orgasm. You care not for how it plays. You don't ride the waves and slow your pace to accommodate it. Her cum spills warm around your cock. Slippery juices seep to her thighs and drip onto the floor as you keep up the relentless pace of your hips, each drive forward, piercing. Her body held against the marble, with her waist pressed against the edge. Her hands are frantic. Scrambling once more for support as you tear her apart with fervour.

"Rei?” The door opens. “Everything okay? Oh, fuck." 

Liz stands in the doorway, stunned and staring. She's about to turn away and run out of the room but before she can step away, Rei speaks through her pleasure.

"Liz. Fuck." The words spill from her breathless mouth. Liz turns back to see the girl cumming again. You can see the astonishment in her gaze, unable to look away, drawn to the display of ecstasy. This time you slow and your hand slips away from her throat.

Rei squirms against the marble counter. The second wave crests and passes and this time her mind does clear. Your cock slows to a stop in her. Rei whips her head around to look at Liz.

"What the fuck?" Liz takes a step back, halfway out of the room, the door almost closing.

"Wait! Come here,” Rei calls out and Liz steps forward again. "Close the door. Quick."

Liz moves toward you and closes the door behind her. She presses herself back against it, watching in amazement as you freeze, still buried in her best friend. You were so blinded by fucking Rei that you didn't even consider stopping, but as rationality takes back over and the situation takes shape in your mind, you suddenly feel trapped under Liz's gaze. You dare not to look in her direction.

For all your tension, Rei is a complete contrast. Relaxed. The utter ease with which she just smiles, looks Liz directly in the eye and says the most casual, inappropriate things. "I'm more than okay. How are you?"

"I—" the question catches her off guard and she stammers an awkward, jolted sentence. Her eyes move to the space between you and Rei where you're still connected. She opens her mouth as if to speak but no words come out. She stutters another broken attempt. Liz eventually shakes her head and replies, "good. Not good. I mean okay. Well, good, but not because—"

She's stumbling over her words until Rei stops her. "Think we have a bit longer in us." She looks over her shoulder to you. "Not gonna cum yet, are you?"

"No," you reply. Entirely confused and a little uncomfortable—not sure exactly what is happening right now. You look back at Liz and she's staring right at you. Wide eyes, open mouth. It's not quite fear you're seeing in them, not disgust either. A cocktail of emotions playing on her face that you wish you could unpick.

"Want to join?" Rei asks. The question hangs in the air. Her tone is light and playful as if it's the most normal question in the world. She can't possibly mean that. She has to be joking. A jest for entertainment and Liz's amusement.

"Isn't this Wonyoung's...?" Liz leaves her question incomplete, letting Rei finish the thought.

"I already asked her. He's fair game." She did? When was this? Does that mean Rei planned to fuck you all along? The confusion only worsens the more you think. Your brain hurts trying to make sense of this. The absolute weirdness of it. And despite it, or rather, because of it, you find this whole thing so much... hotter.

Liz pushes herself off the door and says, "we did talk about it that one time..." She takes a step forward and then continues, "how we wanted to share a guy. But him? Here? Now?"

Liz takes another step forward and you take a tentative step back, slipping out from inside Rei and standing exposed. She gives an offended little groan of displeasure and then slips her leg down from the sink and turns to face you. Suddenly you're feeling lonely and exposed with the two girls staring at you.

"Yeah. Why not?" Rei asks Liz so casually. So blasé. Like she was suggesting what to eat for dinner and not asking Liz to join in a threesome. "And it's not like he would mind. Look how hard he is." Liz stares at the state of your cock. Twitching in the air. Lubricated with Rei.

Liz drags her eyes back to your face and asks you, "do you want me?"

As if you could ever say no. To those large round eyes. To her delicate mouth. The slender body beneath the cocktail dress. To those hips that sway as she continues to walk until she's standing next to Rei.

Rei reaches behind Liz, holding her by the ass and pushing her the final step toward you. Liz instinctively reaches, taking gentle hold of your wet cock. She's standing so close that her tits just graze against your chest. You look down slightly at the woman who's looking back up at you.

Rei asks you now, "do you want us?"

You stay paused for a moment, glancing at Rei for half a second before returning to Liz's stare. You nod gently then lean in to kiss her. The moment your mouths touch your hands begin roaming, one groping for a breast and the other to her lower back, holding her in close. Her tongue presses into you with the urgency you need and she holds you tight by the back of your neck.

You forget about Rei for a moment, giving everything to Liz. Stifling moans of your excitement into her mouth. Your hands feel over her, exploring her from hips to chest to waist—everywhere—before sliding her zipper down over her back and stopping just short of her ass.

Liz stops to catch her breath and it's the moment Rei waited for. One girl at your mouth and one at your neck, the kiss a wet mass of three people fighting with tongues and lips. A hand, presumably Liz's, strokes you gently and with a rhythm. Another on your lower back and another helping you push away Liz's dress. Rei's teeth pinch your neck and a familiar laugh rings out.

"So fucking hot," she whispers in your ear before she bites at your lobe.

Liz's dress falls free from her body, piling by her feet. You pull back for a moment. A moment to drink this beauty in. To see her stunning figure. Standing before you in heels, breasts jutted, is the image of perfection. Rei moves behind her, unclasping her bra and it joins her dress on the floor, revealing perky breasts that yearn for your touch.

Your mouth attacks her and her hands are clutching at you, gripping your head, neck, arms, anything she can as you suck a nipple into your mouth. Your hands explore over her skin. Trailing every part, learning her curves, the contours. The way they flow and mould and ripple.

"Don't hog the good parts," Rei hisses in your ear, breaking the trance Liz's tits had you caught under. Your hand and hers fight for the right to touch Liz. All while her eyes roll back from the bliss of being touched so hungrily.

Rei runs a delicate hand between Liz's legs and she tenses for a moment, sucking in a gasp. Her mouth contorts. Another gasp as Rei continues to brush over the fabric nestled between her thighs.

"Tell him what you want, Liz."

She stammers, gasping again before replying, "Want to ride. Ride his cock." She has barely taken her hand off it this whole time she was being undressed and now she rubs it a little faster. Squeezing a little tighter.

Things start to move in a bit of a blur, unsure of whose hands are on whom or whose mouth and body are pressed against yours as all three of you shuffle towards one side of the room. Somewhere through it, Rei took the lead and made sure you found yourself sitting on the lid of the toilet. Liz's underwear have long since been discarded and she's found herself perched on your thigh.

Liz wraps her arms around your neck as she straddles your leg. She's wrapping her body around you. Grinding against you. Making desperate sounds. Reaching with her mouth to find yours and planting her kisses.

Rei sits on you too, having helped off whatever remained of your clothes. She grinds too, using your other thigh. Rubbing her wet pussy on your leg, while the fingers of one hand comb and massage over your hair while her other trails her nails lightly over your skin. Her lips are soft against your shoulder. The smell of sex fills your nose. You breathe it in, finding yourself wanting.

Rei is so very dangerous to your senses. The softness of her touches. The sensual, raspy tones of her whisper in your ear. How your cock pulses with every plea.

"Keep your dick ready. We will put it to such good use." The first of many dirty promises and sweet nothing Rei whispers as the minutes draw past. She grows ever more erratic. And in contrast, Liz is controlled and measured, fucking her cunt against your leg with focused intent.

They writhe and roll their hips with the urgency of their heat. Wet, pink, and needy cunts, gliding over your skin. Desperate for friction.

"Oh Liz!" Rei moans.

"Ah! Fuck! Don't—”

Liz moves. Unsure, jolting, wracked and robbed of rhythm. It's in those moments Rei leans in for a kiss. Both girls writhe with pleasure, hands to breasts and mouths joined. It's at once an incredible sight. Incredibly erotic and exotic. The display of sensuous want. Skin aflame. Dew of their heat collected.

"Please fuck him," Rei breathes her demands through ragged and frantic breaths. Rei stands and guides, drawing Liz towards your cock, impatient and urgent, with a vice-like grip on her arm. "He is so good," she says through laboured breaths and wet pants.

With Rei's guidance, your dick finds its place between the folds. Wet and silky. Plush and sticky. The undersides of her soft, jiggling thighs press against you as she climbs to mount. So wonderfully slow the descent down your shaft.

It's with an agonisingly measured motion she takes your cock, inch by inch. She swallows every fraction. An exquisite glide. Feeling the undulating pattern of her depths as they shift and cling. Her lips drawn in a tight, silent circle. Her eyes clench shut as she lets out a long and strained exhale. Her back arches slightly, almost reaching the limits, taking you to the hilt.

"Oh Rei, fuck," she whispers, before opening her eyes and meeting yours. Lustful gazes meet for a long second and she leans forward. She keeps you there, lodged and tight for a moment longer. Holding onto it, and you. "Need a minute," she tells you through her laboured breathing.

The beat of your hearts collide in the tense moments as you wait. She is poised to make the most of the moment. Liz begins so slowly. Tentative. The slightest of rocks, cautious and experimental, to ensure herself and you of her control. With each subtle and calculated motion, the sweet clench of her tight insides squeeze.

Her forehead rests against yours as she looks down, fully in focus with the rise and fall.

"She's so good. Tell her," Rei purrs her words as she leans into her friend. "How nice does she feel?" Rei's kissing at Liz's neck between her words. Nipping at the skin while you can feel every shallow gasp Liz makes. The way she inhales each time with a deeper and harsher breath when Rei nips just so.

You barely manage to find your words, but you tell her. Whispering sweet compliments on how nice her pussy feels around your cock. You don't stop there, appreciating parts of her body as you touch them. Running your hands over her hips has you telling her how wonderful she feels under your fingertips, gripping her ass and holding tight to tell her how perfect she is. Her moans and groans fill your ears with music of lust and desire.

Rei's hands travel the expanse of Liz's body as she keeps nipping at her neck. She takes her nipples between her thumb and finger. Squeezes and twists. "So beautiful. He is so turned on by you." Her words encourage and drive Liz as she rides with greater pace and intensity. As the tempo rises, Rei grows impatient with her own needs. "Liz..." she whispers, "give me your hand."

Keeping one on your knee, Liz surrenders the other to Rei. Rei draws her friend in between her legs, "touch me while you ride, please, Liz."

"I don't know how." Her hips rise and fall, still working herself onto your dick. The words of a girl unsure.

Rei puts Liz's hand on her cunt and presses her fingers to the mound. "Yes, you do, just do it how you like it."

"Here," you say, moving your hand between Rei's legs, you guide Liz's fingers and show her how to stroke her friend, "press your fingers here. Move them in a circle. Small but quick circles."

"Mm, Liz, oh—" Rei moans through her strained attempt at words.

“And I think Rei likes it when—

“Ah! Yes!”

Liz puts so much focus on her friend that she struggles to keep riding, as much as her body craves it. She struggles for a while, riding your cock and rubbing Rei's clit. Soon her focus falters, and her pace decreases, losing rhythm as she struggles between the two.

"More Liz, more," Rei pleads.

You take hold of Liz's hips, your fingers digging deep into the flesh of her ass. You drive up into her and a whine escapes her lips. You take over and she pushes her fingers deeper inside Rei just as she wanted, pulling her closer and burying herself into her cunt. Rei melts into Liz as your cock pounds into her.

Rei puts an arm over your shoulder and holds onto you, clawing into your neck and holding you firm. "Ah. Liz... yes." You can tell it won't take Rei long like this. You've noticed how easy it seems to be to make her cum, so this should be no challenge even for Liz.

Surprisingly, without warning, Liz is the first to crumble. Without ceremony. Just a sudden gasping stammer that rattles in her chest. Every sound she makes is a whining, babbling, and messy blend of lust and carnal release. The two collapse against each other as you fuck Liz through her orgasm.

Rei lets out a frustrated groan as Liz struggles to keep fingering her through her tremors. "My clit. Please," she cries. "Here, Liz, here." Her voice is desperate and urgent, trying to guide Liz's finger back where she needed her. "No, no, don't stop." Rei's voice breaks again, desperate and waning.

Liz is limp, unresponsive, and falling into your arms. Totally consumed. Struggling to fight as her whole body seizes with euphoria. You wrap your hands around her body, shifting positions and sliding out of her, leaving her trembling on the toilet. Her body still wracking and twitching and jerking, whimpering and sobbing in post-orgasm bliss.

Rei is agitated. "Need your cock. Want it. Bad. So bad." She throws herself against your body, hands running all over until one grips your cock, still wet with Liz. Your cock twitches. "Need this cock. Fuck. This is making me so hot."

Never have you seen such hunger and need. Lust so dire and reckless. Rei has an inexhaustible libido—an insatiable appetite for sex. You are barely out of Liz's snatch and yet already Rei's is gushing for you. And who are you to deny such a good pussy another fucking?

You bend Rei over towards the hazy Liz. Rei's arms reach over her shoulders onto the wall and her legs spread apart over Liz's knees. You lean behind, ready to enter. Liz's hands brace her waist.

Rei looks at you over her shoulder with her devilish, sadistic smile. "Take me, stretch my fucking cunt. My pussy needs you." Her vulgar demands sound so good, with erotic venom in her words, and you're in her again.

"Yeah, yes. Finally..." Rei coos, as if you deprived her, waiting so patiently for Liz to finish. She pushes her ass back, swallowing you deeper. You run your hands over her skin; her perfect curves. "Mm... yes, finally! Like the first time."

You pound her with a vigour—merciless and rapid thrusts of your hips that drive her into Liz. For someone so small and seemingly delicate she is full of stamina and power, eager to meet every thrust. Your hips clap against her ass and her tongue falls out. A visage of mindless and unrepentant ecstasy. A cathartic euphoria. As your body collides, Rei is bent lower over the resting Liz.

She leads with her tongue, into Liz's mouth, the two girls sharing sloppy, messy, passionate kiss accompanied by stifled moans and Rei's signature giggle of pleasure.

Rei rises from the kiss to pant a sharp breath, but she quickly descends once more, licking up her neck and then sucking the lobe of her ear. While she's busy feasting on the side of Liz's neck, you lean further forward, both pushing in and down on Rei, but also to get your own fix of the girl beneath.

She's dazed and happy. Arms loosely over Rei, she looks up at you. Smiling. The sparkle still twinkling in her eyes. Blanketing and enshrouded with lust. "Feels good," she says weakly.

"For such a long time I've wondered if Liz tasted as good as her body looks," Rei teases Liz, giggling to herself as she playfully bites her neck.

Liz's cheeks flush an embarrassed shade. She replies through a gasped laugh, "you're always talking, saying stuff, teasing all the time." Liz fights through the nerves to manage to say, "you shouldn't..."

"But have you thought of us actually doing it?" You can feel the wickedness from her, her words are as playful as they are inciting and before Liz can give a reply, Rei is dragging her hand between Liz's legs.

She reacts with a spasm that shoots through her, her muscles tensing as if the faintest of touches sent an electric shock through her. Even the light, innocent touch of Rei's fingers has her rolling and squirming under you both as if she is having her every nerve picked apart. "No. Maybe. Once... Oh, fuck, Rei."

Liz buries into the crook of Rei's neck, as best she can anyway, as Rei still jolts back and forth from the pounding you're giving her. Rei just laughs. "Good answer."

You're still rutting into her from behind, and she is growing shaky, her own ability to support herself failing, struggling to remain upright, pushing down onto Liz. Rei's cumming again. Squeezing tighter around you, fighting harder for every bit of motion between your bodies.

Rei pulls her hand back from Liz to push you out and catch her breath, and she falls fully over Liz, causing her to slouch further in her seat and straddle her.

You pull out from Rei, still without release, and instinctively drop to one knee, pulling Liz's leg up to your waist and moving to slide into her again, even if Rei is kind of in the way.

So Liz lies back flat against the seat of the toilet, a panting Rei mounted over her, and you between her legs—sliding your length into her cunt.

"Why," Rei starts, interrupted by her short gasp. "Did I have to have such hot friends?" You grab Rei's ass and use it as an anchor as you drive into Liz. "I'm so jealous of you getting to fuck us all."

"Shouldn't be," you say between heavy breathing—the effort starting to wear. "This whole thing is a mess. All you girls.”

"You're killing me here," she giggles. "If I had a big, thick cock, I can't think of a better way to use it than that." Rei keeps giggling. Loving this whole thing. She is a ball of boundless energy and as you pound into Liz, she just can't resist touching. She cups Liz's breast in her hand and rolls her nipple between her thumb and finger. "I would love Liz here to cum around my cock."

"You're insane," Liz moans out. Her voice shaking; ruined by the joy you're pumping into her. Her eyes flutter, drifting in and out of bliss.

"I'm insane? You're the one getting pounded by a stranger while your best friend humps your body and plays with your tits." She's absolutely crass with her words and her actions. Durty. Obscene. She continues her verbal assault on a gasping and stunned Liz. "How long have you dreamed about a good, thick cock, fucking you stupid? How many times have you had to finger yourself while watching those amateur porn videos or reading those filthy stories online?"

Liz can barely speak to argue back.

"You girls could always... use a... strap-on." You tell them as your breath gets caught in your chest, you feel it coming. That tingling. A rolling rumble. You're already struggling, feeling the effects of the marathon. But your comment makes them both giggle.

Rei leans down and presses her mouth into Liz's neck. "We could..." Rei is growling now.

Liz is cumming again. Her insides constrict, and her body seizes. The ripples and clenches of her orgasmic vice are too much. You fall over her and press your forehead into Rei's back. Gasping. Panting for air. You're so close it hurts.

So you pull out, reluctantly, freeing your throbbing cock from her hold and standing. A whimpering gasp leaves her lips as her body still shakes.

Rei climbs down from Liz, kneeling in front of you. "A strap-on isn't the same as the real thing." She takes hold of your cock in her delicate touch. So softly, she whispers her words. So gently, they hang in the air with the melodious sound of her voice, sweet like honey and dripping from her lips. "Will you do a dirty girl a favour and paint her pretty face?"

The sight is beyond stunning—an angel on her knees. She rests the tip of your cock against her pursed lips and slowly jerks you. Her glimmering eyes looking up at you in expectant admiration. Her other hand squeezes her breast. She does this all with the utmost confidence that she is going to get exactly what she wants. You nod to her. Yes.

Liz slides from the seat, joining Rei on the floor, on her knees. Rei's hand continue while she shares a smile and a whisper with Liz, words of encouragement that prompt Liz to move in on you. She works her mouth against your balls, planting kisses and stealing licks. 

Both girls savour the taste of your cock while they play with it. They continue until their saliva soaks your length. Your shaft glistening and dripping in their lubricant as their tongues dance along your cock.

It doesn't take you much longer until the two girls are cheek-to-cheek and gazing up into your eyes with the soft strokes of their hands. "Cum for us. Cum. Paint our faces, cover us. Cum. Do it." They beg you.

And then, release.

Hot cum pumps from the tip, erupting in thick strands. The first on Rei—a long thick rope onto her forehead, down the bridge of her nose and across her cheek. She remains remarkably poised, relishing the feeling. Then onto Liz, you catch her with a lot too, just like you did Rei and she flinches. Some into her open and ready mouth. Some on her lip and rolling down her chin. She tries to take her mouth to your cock, but Rei leans in the way and wrestles control and instead, another two shots—one splatters across Rei's lips and the next into her mouth.

Rei pulls you into her and sucks, then rolls her tongue around you. Jerking the final drops and draining you empty. When your hips cease to jolt, Rei swallows. Her mouth and face—messy. Glistening. Still smiling as she looks up at you with glee in her eyes.

Liz's slouches back, propped against the toilet. Her hand plays between her legs. Thrusting her fingers with a fast, firm pace. Chasing a climax she can only finish herself. A sight that steals your attention. The glorious scene of Liz masturbating is utterly hypnotic, the music of her moans in harmony, the euphoria consuming and overwhelming and a rarity you savour.

Another drop hangs from Rei's chin. You bring your cock and tilt it—dragging the rope of cum along Rei's lip. Into her mouth. A quiet moan as she cleans you—the feeling of a dull vibration. With a final suck, she frees you and you almost stumble over, collapsing. You catch the counter, barely.

Rei turns back to her friend and pushes in—meeting mouths. Her lips kiss the taste into Liz. Taking it off her lips and drawing it into her mouth. Her tongue snakes around Liz's before the two girls join in an intense and passionate kiss. Your cum traded between the pair—back and forth. Wet and lewd. Sloppy sounds that have you mesmerised.

Liz swallows as best she can before her strained voice breaks the trance. “This is the best. It will never be topped.” Her dainty fingers still playing with her clit as she continues to savour the experience.

"Until next weekend maybe," Rei interjects. "The three of us could make a whole night of it. Though that might ruin all other sex for us forever." Rei rises to stand, glancing herself in the mirror and reaching a finger up, drawing circles over her cheek to collect a fresh trail of your cum, pressing it to the roof of her mouth and rolling it over her tongue.

It's Liz who finds a smile first, her own soft little giggle followed by a splutter and a cough. It gets you all the same, laughing, the absurdity of this whole scenario dawning on you.

"Think you could handle us for a whole night?" Rei asks you as she stands beside you, looking into the mirror as she pulls more trails of cum into her mouth. Liz stays kneeling on the floor, and she suddenly looks so shy again. Sinking into herself, as if the flush of the lust has washed her clean.

You give a quick chuckle, "maybe not... But I would enjoy every second of trying."

"Guess it is time we all get out," Rei suggests. She looks over her shoulder and says, "and, hey Liz. You're welcome."

"Hm?"

"Your card. You fingered me. So you passed the challenge."

-

Now fully dressed and looking almost like you did when you first walked in, if just a little scruffier, you leave the girls in the bathroom. You doubt anyone who sees you cares, though. The music too loud, the drink too abundant and the dancing too distracting. So no one notices when you re-join the crowds and pass through the hallways looking for someone—anyone.

You still haven't seen Minju since she disappeared at the card stand, nor Wonyoung or Yujin since they walked off into the crowd. As for Gaeul, the one person who is supposed to stop you from doing stupid things, well you haven't seen her yet at all. Maybe that's why you've fucked three girls already today, Gaeul needs to put you under 24/7 watch.

"Finally found you, bro," a voice calls from your left—right on cue.

You spin, and sure enough, it's Gaeul, standing at the corner of the hallway, arms crossed and leaning against the wall with disappointment drawn over her face. She's wearing some of the highest platformed heels you've ever seen, so she almost looks tall. The dress helps too. It's long and sleek from her shoulders down to her knees. Tight to her skin and shimmering under artificial light. An array of gold sparkles and reflective surfaces, bouncing colour everywhere.

"Gaeul, hey."

"You really shouldn't have brought her, you know that?" You had hoped to have spoke to Gaeul before she saw that Minju is here, but that was never going to happen when you're busy fucking her friends. At least she doesn't know about that—yet.

Her question is rhetorical—you know that—but you shrug and answer anyway, "she insisted."

"Oh, really?" Gaeul snaps and then guides you down the hall. Right now, she doesn't sound like the girl you know. She's agitated and annoyed and you're not actually sure if it's at you or someone else. "Sometimes I wonder what goes through your mind. I don't know if it's stubbornness or stupidity bro, but are you trying to get on their bad side?"

"Is it really that bad?"

"I just don't understand you at the minute. I'm trying to help you but I don't know how when I don't know what you want. Is it Wonyoung? Yujin? This Minju person?"

or Rei? Liz, maybe?

"Gaeul. I don't know."

She stops and turns to you, holding onto your arm. "That's the problem, bro. You know I want the best for you, but if you don't know, then neither do I."

"I can't do this now."

"Fine. Enjoy the party, just do me a favour and don't fuck anyone tonight will you?"

Oops.

You hold your breath as it becomes silent in the house. Your eyes focus on the window across the room. Maybe… It feels weird to even consider this. You usually only see this in movies. And yet, here you are. You leave your hiding spot and walk over to the window. Looking down, you’re staring at the Jung family’s driveway. The gray stones don’t look comfortable at all.

You jump when you hear the front door being shut loudly. Was that Eunha or her mother?

You look down again. It's Eunha. For a moment you consider signaling her that you're still inside her room. She probably doesn't have a ladder lying around though, right?

Your heart beats faster, when you hear Ms. Jung walking up the stairs. Quickly getting behind the closet once more, you hold your breath. There is no reason for her to come inside Eunha's room. Right?

She seems to have gone inside her own bedroom. You hear Eunha coming back inside the house. Maybe that's your moment. You walk to the door and carefully open it, just enough for you to look inside the hallway. Ms. Jung's door is open, but you don't see her anywhere.

You hesitate. Are you really gonna do this? Or would you rather wait inside Eunha's room?

You slowly count to three. And then you slowly open the door further and tiptoe towards the stairs. You make your way down with shaking hands, afraid you'll hear her voice behind you at any moment.

One last step and you reach the living room. You almost run into Eunha. 

“Thank God."

She whispers.

“Get out of here.”

She pushes you towards the front door and you sigh in relief when you open it.

“Who are you, boy?”

You freeze. Fuck!

You haven't seen Ms. Jung in quite a while. But you remember her always thinking quite highly of herself and her family. You doubt she'd like the fact that you slept with her daughter. Biting your lip, you consider making a run for it. But you doubt it'll work. You live across the street. She'll recognize you eventually. Even from the back. And even if it's not now, it'll happen sooner rather than later. It'd probably be best if she found out now and not in two weeks.

You take a deep breath, ready to get crucified, and turn around.

“A wonderful morning, Ms. Jung.”

You try to look as cheerful as possible. And yet not come off as ignorant or stupid. All three of you know what happened last night. There is no need to deny anything.

Ms. Jung slowly crosses her arms in front of her chest. You see her looking you up and down.

“Mom, it's not a big deal. It's not like-”

One glare from her mom and Eunha is as silent as a grave.

“Upstairs.”

Eunha hesitates. But she knows she'll only make it worse for the both of you. She sends you an apologetic glance, before making her way towards her room.

“I could ask you what you’re doing here, but we both know the answer to that question, don’t we?”

For a brief moment, you consider bluffing again, but Ms. Jung’s stare seems to pierce right through your body, into your soul.

“Yes, Ma’am.”

You catch the right corner of her mouth twitching. Almost as if she’s amused by your politeness.

“Since we’re on the same page, let us get one thing straight.”

Jessica Jung takes a step closer towards you. You do your best to look into her eyes. Which is hard. Her brown orbs are basically throwing daggers at you. If she was a guy, you would’ve glanced down from time to time. But you already noticed her neckline earlier as you turned around. Her white blazer almost seems to perfectly fit her, especially when coupled with the white top she is wearing. The hint of her cleavage is practically begging you to look at it.

You manage to nod, your throat dry. Ms. Jung’s gaze is heavy, pinning you in place like a butterfly on a collector’s board. Your heart is racing - half panic, half… something else you don’t want to name. There’s something unsettling about the way she’s looking at you, something that makes you feel exposed, like she can read every guilty thought running through your head.

She lets out a soft, disapproving sigh, as if she’s contemplating the sheer audacity of you standing there. Her arms are still crossed, but the tension in her shoulders softens slightly, her posture shifting into something more casual - though her expression remains razor-sharp.

“You’ve made quite a mess, haven’t you?”

Her words are measured, like she’s deciding whether you’re worth scolding or dismissing entirely.

“Sneaking into someone’s house. Seducing their daughter. And then thinking you could slink away without anyone noticing.”

“I didn’t mean—”

You start, but she cuts you off with a sharp glance.

“Didn’t mean?”

She echoes, her voice soft but laced with disbelief.

“What exactly didn’t you mean, boy? Didn’t mean to disrespect my family? Didn’t mean to risk embarrassing Eunha in ways you can’t even comprehend? Or didn’t mean to get caught?”

Your stomach churns. Her words sting, but there’s something almost magnetic about the way she speaks, each word precise, calculated. You feel yourself shrinking under her gaze, yet part of you can’t help noticing how poised she is, how commanding.

“I - I wasn’t thinking,”

You admit, the words tumbling out before you can stop them.

“I didn’t think about the consequences. It was stupid.”

Ms. Jung raises an eyebrow. Her lips twitch, almost imperceptibly, as if the faintest hint of amusement threatens to break through her severe expression.

“Stupid.”

She repeats, her tone dry.

“At least we can agree on that.”

She steps closer now. You’re rooted in place, the proximity making your pulse quicken for reasons you’re too flustered to untangle. She’s still looking at you like she’s deciding what to do with you - a look that makes your skin prickle, but not entirely in a bad way.

Ms. Jung tilts her head slightly, studying you. Her gaze lingers on your face, then dips, just briefly, as if appraising you in a way that’s no longer purely critical. The shift is subtle, but it’s enough to make your breath hitch. Does she even realize what she’s doing? Or worse - does she know exactly what she’s doing?

“You’re not much of a man,”

She says finally, her voice quieter now but no less cutting.

“Still a boy in so many ways. And yet…”

Is that a… compliment? You’re not sure. But it almost sounded like that. Or was it just what it looked like? An insult? You try to be confident. Compliment it is. You straighten your back a little.

She takes a slow step forward, heels clicking against the floor like a metronome counting down your inevitable doom.

“Do you know what I despise more than arrogance?”

she asks, her tone calm, measured.

You shake your head, your mouth too dry to form words.

“Cowardice.”

she says simply, her lips curling into a faint, cruel smile.

“Boys like you, so quick to act, so slow to take responsibility.”

“I’m not -”

You begin, but her raised hand silences you instantly.

“Don’t.”

she says, her voice sharp as glass.

“Don’t insult me by pretending you’re anything but exactly what I see in front of me.”

Her words cut deep, but the way she steps closer makes your pulse spike for an entirely different reason. She’s close now. Too close. The faint scent of her perfume, the soft sheen of her hair under the light, the way her white blazer clings perfectly to her form. It’s all too much.

“Ms. Jung -”

You start, your voice trembling.

“Jessica.”

She corrects smoothly.

“If we’re going to have this conversation, you’ll call me Jessica.”

“Jessica,”

You manage, the name foreign and heavy on your tongue.

“I… I didn’t mean for any of this to happen.”

Her laugh is soft, but there’s no humor in it.

“Didn’t you? You waltzed into my house, into my daughter’s room, and now you want me to believe it was all some grand accident?”

“No!”

You protest, panic rising.

“I mean, yes, I was in her room, but-”

“But you didn’t expect to get caught.”

She tilts her head slightly, her smile fading.

“Spare me your excuses, boy. They bore me.”

You fall silent, unsure of what to say, unsure if there’s anything you can say to salvage this. The tension in the air is unbearable, her presence overwhelming as she studies you with a calculating intensity.

Jessica narrows her eyes, and you see a flicker of something dangerous in her gaze.

“You live across the street, don’t you?”

Your blood runs cold.

“Y-yes.”

She smirks faintly, her arms crossing.

“Joohyun’s son.”

She murmurs to herself, her voice laced with mocking amusement.

“How quaint. I wonder what your mother would think if she knew what you’d been up to.”

Your stomach churns.

“Please.”

You whisper, the word spilling out before you can stop it.

“You don’t have to tell her.”

“Don’t I?”

She counters, taking another step forward.

“Maybe she deserves to know. Maybe she needs to know exactly what kind of son she’s raised.”

“No, please.”

You plead, your voice cracking.

“It was a mistake. It won’t happen again.”

Jessica studies you for a long moment, her expression unreadable. You feel the weight of her gaze like a physical force, and your chest tightens with every second that passes. Just when you think she might make good on her threat, her lips twitch into a faint, almost predatory smile.

“Pathetic.”

She says, her voice low. But there’s something new in her tone now, something that sends a shiver through you - not anger, not contempt, but something darker, more curious. Her eyes roam over you, slower this time, and the faintest hint of amusement flickers across her face.

“You’re a mess, you know that?”

She murmurs, her voice softer but no less sharp.

“Stammering, fumbling, barely able to keep your wits about you. And yet…”

She trails off, her eyes lingering on you with a strange intensity.

“…there’s something… interesting about you.”

The words hit you like a punch to the gut. Your pulse quickens, and you’re acutely aware of every inch of space between you - or rather, the lack of it. You should say something, anything, but the weight of her presence, the way her eyes bore into you, leaves you speechless.

Jessica’s lips twitch, her eyes narrowing slightly as if she’s come to some decision.

“You’ve already wasted enough of my time.”

She says, stepping even closer.

“And if you think I’ll let you slink away without consequences, you’re sorely mistaken.”

Her words send a shiver through you, but it’s the way her fingers suddenly reach out and trail down the front of your shirt that truly makes your breath hitch. The gesture is slow, deliberate, and completely in control.

“You said you’d do anything.”

She murmurs, her voice softer now but no less commanding.

“Did you mean it?”

“Yes.”

You whisper, the word barely audible.

Her hand slides lower, brushing against your waistband. You freeze, your heart pounding so loudly you’re certain she can hear it.

“Then prove it.”

She says, her eyes locking onto yours. Her fingers move with calculated precision, reaching for the zipper of your jeans. The sound of it lowering is deafening in the otherwise silent room.

“Here’s what you’re going to do.”

Jessica says, her tone sharp and unyielding, the glint in her eye making it clear she expects nothing less than full compliance.

“And you’re not going to stop until I tell you to.”

For only a moment, you feel a flicker of fear. Eunha might witness all this. The thought is fleeting, though, because Jessica doesn’t give you enough time to linger.

“You know,”

She begins, her voice low and measured.

“my husband hasn’t been home for almost a year.”

Her eyes are locked onto yours, sharp and unyielding, like a predator sizing up its prey. The intensity in her gaze sends a shiver down your spine as her slim fingers work to unbutton your jeans. The movement is deliberate, practiced, and confident, making them hang loosely around your hips.

“And that means,”

She continues, her tone darkening as she hooks a finger into the waistband of your jeans.

“I haven’t been satisfied properly for far too long.”

Jessica raises an eyebrow, her expression a mix of challenge and command, daring you to stop her. Then, with a sharp tug, she lets your jeans fall to the floor.

“You’d better change that now.”

Sweat builds on your palms, a cold nervousness creeping over you. Many people would kill for a chance like this, but all you feel is pressure, heavy and suffocating. Jessica’s words aren’t a simple invitation. They’re an expectation. A demand.

It’s not just sex.

She’s asking you to make her cum.

The realization lands heavily, and your stomach churns. You’ve made Tiffany cum before, twice. But you’re not even sure how you did it. And now, facing Jessica, whose confidence and poise seem miles above anything you’ve dealt with, you’re more nervous than ever.

“Do you need a second invitation?”

Her mocking tone snaps you back to the present, her words cutting through your spiraling thoughts. You shake your head quickly. Hesitation grips you, your mind fumbling for the next move.

“C-Can you maybe sit down?”

You stammer, motioning awkwardly toward the Jung family’s dining table.

Jessica’s lips twitch slightly, the faintest glimmer of amusement crossing her face. She doesn’t argue. Instead, she turns gracefully and walks toward the table, her movements deliberate, almost taunting. Her heels click softly against the floor, each step making your pulse quicken.

Stepping out of your jeans, you start thinking about what to do next. You’re not sure of the easiest way to make her cum. Should you eat her out? Actually fuck her? Jessica’s actions implied the latter, but what if you’re wrong? Tiffany came while you were inside her. Maybe it’ll be the same with Jessica?

By now, she’s perched on the table, waiting. Her gaze is fixed on you, predatory as ever, and you can feel her eyes trailing your every move. You walk toward her slowly, still debating your options. Every step feels heavier than the last. Her presence, her posture, it all screams control, and you feel like prey walking directly into her trap.

When you finally reach her, your body betrays you with another moment of hesitation. How do you even begin this? Should you kiss her? But the look in her eyes warns you against it, threatening almost, like she’d kill you if you tried something so trivial.

This is an entirely different dynamic than you’ve experienced before. Tiffany had treated you like a partner, even when role-playing. Yoona had barely undressed. With Eunha, it was mutual exploration, casual and tipsy.

But Jessica doesn’t see you as a person right now.

She sees you as a toy.

“I-I can’t help you if you’re…”

You swallow hard.

“…dressed.”

Jessica tilts her head slightly, her eyes narrowing as if weighing your words. Then, with a faint smirk, she reaches for the hem of her blazer. She slides it off her shoulders and tosses it aside with the same casual elegance she’s had this entire time.

Her tight blouse clings tightly to her, emphasizing every curve, you can’t stop your gaze from flickering down to her now fully exposed cleavage.

You quickly look away, heat rising in your face.

“I’m taking off my clothes, and you’re looking away?”

Jessica asks, her tone somewhere between amused and scolding.

“What kind of 18-year-old are you?”

“I’m 19.”

You mumble under your breath.

If she hears you, she doesn’t acknowledge it. Instead, she watches you intently, her smirk growing as you keep your eyes averted. It feels unnatural, weird even. With Tiffany, the role-playing made it easy to focus. Yoona didn’t even take her clothes off. Eunha and you had been too tipsy to care about awkwardness.

But this? Jessica undressing in front of you, her neighbor’s son, like it’s the most normal thing in the world? It feels surreal.

“Do you want to take them off yourself?”

Her question hangs in the air, charged and impossible to ignore.

You finally look at her again and can’t stop yourself from staring. Her white top shows off her ample chest and you can even see the outlines of her bra underneath. To your surprise her pants are already lying next to her on the table. Your eyes travel along her smooth legs, until they reach her panties. You don’t know what you expected, but Jessica is just wearing a simple white piece, probably matching her bra. After seeing Tiffany in that amazing red lingerie, you somehow expected Jessica to wear something similar. Instead, you are looking at simple white cotton with a hint of her pussy lips underneath.

“Y-Yes?”

You try to sound more confident, but it’s difficult for you. Jessica just seems to analyze every move of yours, ready to punish you at any moment.

She opens her legs a little wider, placing her heels on the chairs on either side of her. You step in front of her and instead of standing, you kneel down. Her satisfied smirk leaves you hoping you made the right decision. Reaching forward, you feel the fabric on your fingers as they brush against her waist. You’ve known Jessica for years as Eunha’s mother and you never expected to see her naked.

Now you’re pulling her panties off her as she slightly raises her hips. You can tell she is looking at you, waiting for your reaction as you expose her core. First, her neatly trimmed pubic hair follows the hem of her panties, but soon you reveal her pussy. It looks slightly smaller than Tiffany’s, but also less wet. It takes you a moment to tear your eyes away from the sight and to slip her panties down her smooth legs, one at a time.

“Give me those.”

She reaches out and you drop them in her hand.

“Don’t want you running around with them.”

You don’t say anything back. Why would you take them?

“And now put that tongue to good use.”

Scooting a little closer, you look up at her one last time, before leaning in to kiss her skin right next to her folds. Her breath hitches and you decide to continue your kissing. All around her lips, before finally planting a kiss right on her folds. Jessica tries to suppress her hiss. She hasn’t been treated like this by a man in a year. She took care of herself from time to time, but it’s just different to when a guy does it. Jessica loves the fact that you aren’t just a random guy, but her daughter’s classmate. It makes this even better, almost taboo. She can’t help but imagine what your mother would think of you if she found out you ate out your hot neighbour.

“Don’t be shy, boy.”

Turned on by her own thoughts, Jessica takes a fistful of your hair and pulls you closer, urging you on to pleasure her like she told you to.

You start licking along her lips. You're going slow at first, hoping that a slow build up will get her to cum. Placing your hands on her thighs feels like you're touching forbidden territory, but you use it to comfortably settle into a nice rhythm. You let your tongue dart out to her clit once in a while, sending a shiver up Jessica's spine, before you focus back on her pussy. 

So far everything you're doing while eating her out is stuff you've learned by doing. Placing your tongue flat on her clit and humming a little, that's what Tiffany likes. It sends shivers through Jessica's body. You feel her wrapping her legs around you and locking her ankles at your back. Her thighs are now applying slight pressure on your head, but you don't mind at all. It feels amazing. Eating Jessica out, tasting that slight sweetness, feeling her thick thighs next to your head… It almost makes you forget about what could happen if you don't do your best to satisfy her. 

“Get your tongue deeper inside.”

Jessica sighs in pleasure, but you detect a hint of impatience. How are you supposed to know what she likes from the get go though? You’ve noticed that your ex, Tiffany, Eunha and now Jessica all like to be eaten out differently. That means you have to test the water a little at the beginning every time you meet someone new.

“Focus more on my clit.”

Jessica groans, a tug at your hair emphasizing her words.

You’re completely fine with her telling you what she likes, but you don’t like how she is ordering you around. And the underlying threat of Jessica telling on you makes your frustration grow even further. In response you slightly dig your fingers into the soft flesh of her thighs. It gives you a better hold of her body, but also makes her moan out.

“You need to put in more effort.”

Her cold, slightly shaky voice makes you almost growl into her pussy. As much as you enjoy eating her out, her comments keep throwing you off. You wish you could just take your cock out and finally fuck this sweet and tight pussy of hers, but she hasn’t said anything about sex so far.

With every passing minute, your anxiety rises. You don’t want Jessica to tell your mom that you slept with Eunha. You don’t want her to know anything about your sex life at all. But you keep struggling to make her cum. You can tell how she’s growing more impatient the longer you take.

Out of desperation, you finally back away and get on your feet. Jessica raises an eyebrow in question, her expression cold, but you catch the hint of pink colouring her cheeks.

“Is it okay if I… use my cock?”

You don’t dare to openly suggest fucking her.

The silence that follows is deafening. You can’t read her face and you’re somewhat ashamed of the fact you couldn’t get her to cum by eating her out. A couple of seconds pass, until Jessica finally gives you a short nod.

After sighing in relief, you quickly take off your boxers and step between her legs.

“I hope you know how to use this better than your mouth.”

She reaches out to wrap her fingers around your length. Your breath hitches when you feel her hand on you for the first time. For some reason you expected it to be cold, but it isn’t. Her hand just feels right as she gives you a couple of lazy strokes. Then, Jessica leans over a little and spits on your cock. Some of it misses and falls to the floor, but most of her warm saliva lands on your length and she spreads it everywhere. It doesn’t really feel loving, she isn’t really gentle. Not like Ms. Im, who really seemed to care for you. It’s obvious that Jessica is just using you for herself. But you can’t deny how good it feels.

You feel her slowly pulling you towards her and you look down to see how your cock aligns with her pussy. It is visibly wetter than before and you can still catch the lingering taste on your tongue.

“Go on.”

Jessica’s tone is as cold as ever, but you would like to believe there is some sort of anticipation in her eyes. You hesitate, knowing that you slept with this woman’s daughter a couple of hours ago. But then again, who at school can say they ever slept with a mother and her daughter? A sudden surge of excitement rushes through you and you push forward. You feel your cock penetrating her pussy and it slides along her inner walls. You feel Jessica’s heavy breath on your skin, the two of you obviously close together.

“I don’t have all day.”

Her words kinda ruin the moment for you. That feeling of being inside her for the first time. That feeling of being inside someone who is around your mom’s age. But you know that this isn’t about you. And so you pull your hips back, before pushing your cock into her again. As you pick up the speed a little, you could swear Eunha and Jessica feel kinda the same. It’s probably just an allusion, wishful thinking. And yet, the fact that you now know how both mother and daughter feel on the inside intoxicates you. You lose sight of your task for a while and mindlessly thrust in and out of Jessica. Her walls hug you tight and her slick clings to your cock. She doesn’t moan, but her breathing becomes heavier. Your hands hold onto her thighs once again, just adding more of this amazing feeling for you. When you feel a familiar pressure build inside of you, remember what you have to do. You have to make Jessica cum. No matter what. As good as it feels to be inside of her, you need to focus. You try to remember what you did when you made Tiffany cum. After taking one of your hands off Jessica’s thigh, you place it on her stomach, right above her pussy. You can feel her watching your every move as you move your thumb downward until you reach her clit. A drawn out sigh escapes her lips when you carefully start to rub her sensitive pearl. You keep on fucking her pussy and you notice how, after some time, Jessica’s body responds to your efforts. 

Her deep breaths slowly turn into small moans. Her pussy seems to tighten a little. Until now, Jessica had her arms behind her and was leaning back, she now moves them to hold your shoulders as you increase the pleasure rushing through her system. You feel her legs lock behind your back. The two of you are closer than ever before. Her head is just underneath yours and you can smell her coconut scent. 

“Yes, keep doing that.”

Jessica barely talks, but when she does, you do your best to listen as you try to learn everything about her body. This isn’t the same as Tiffany’s dirty talk, egging you on to ruin her. This feels more real. Without any special show. Just Jessica’s real, slightly reserved moans.

Which now seem to become a little louder as her nails dig into the skin on the back of your neck. You feel her slightly pulling you down towards her, but you don’t even dare to think about kissing her. As weird as it might sound, since your cock is inside her pussy right now, you feel that this is a line that Jessica doesn’t want you to cross.

But she seems to be more than just fine with your thumb circling her clit. You feel her pussy tighten around your shaft. The grip of her legs around you tightens as well.

“Almost there.”

She sighs, still not looking up into your eyes. Hers are either closed or blankly staring at your chest, which is right in front of her. You had hoped that her body’s reaction would indicate that you’re on the right track, but you didn’t expect her to be this close by now. Or maybe you just lost track of time?

You do your best to hold your rhythm now, knowing that this must be just perfect for her. Even going harder or faster might throw her off again and you don’t want to risk that. So you lose yourself to the feeling of her wet pussy squeezing your cock as you thrust in and out of her. It helps you a little to steady your pace. Jessica’s moans soon become even louder than before. Looking down, you see how her eyebrows are furrowed. You wonder if you messed up, or that’s just her face when she’s about to cum. You hope for the latter as you continue. You have fought off your slowly rising climax for a while now, but that and the purely physical work of fucking your neighbor has started to drain your energy.

But you can eventually sigh in relief when Jessica finally moans your name. It’s her first time to do so and it’s accompanied by her pussy contracting around your cock. You feel how she becomes wetter as her body seems to experience one internal shock after another. Because you were too focused on making her cum, you almost completely forgot about the amazing view you had this whole time. Her cleavage looks perfect as she slightly arches her back and the small shocks make her tits jiggle a little. You wish you could just put your hands on them and feel them as Jessica is slowly beginning to calm down. 

You stopped what you were doing to let her ride out her orgasm in peace. Now you are about to start thrusting into her again, when Jessica suddenly pushes you away. Surprise and disappointment must be visible on your face as your cock leaves the warm comfort of her tight pussy.

“No. You’ve done your job, so I won’t tell on you. Now leave.”

“But-”

You’re stunned. You thought the two of you would continue. After all, you did make her cum and Tiffany didn’t stop fucking you after she came. So did Jessica really only use you to get herself off? You won’t even get to cum?

You take a step back, your cock still glistening with her juices as Jessica gets off the table and gets dressed again. Or maybe she realized she is cheating and changed her mind? But she didn’t seem to care at all about the fact she’s married earlier.

“What are you still standing here for?”

Her voice makes you snap back to reality and you realize she’s already completely dressed again. As if nothing happened. Now you feel awkward standing in front of her without your pants. You fumble for your clothes while Jessica takes her phone out of her purse. Once you’re done she hands it to you without a word. Her icy front is still intact, but maybe you caught a glimpse of what is underneath as you were fucking her.

You notice she opened her snapchat before handing you her phone. You’re surprised someone her age uses this app, but then you see only one other contact. Is that her way of communicating with the people she is cheating on her husband with? But the other person seems to be a woman. You put in your own information and give it back to her. 

As you walk out of the Jung family’s house, your cock still feels painfully hard. You held yourself back a couple of times, which you now regret. Maybe you should’ve just cum while you were fucking Jessica. But at least her asking for your contact lets you hope you’ll get a second chance at that.

Groaning in frustration, you let yourself fall into your chair after closing the door to your room. You don’t even have to close your eyes to remember how Jessica’s pussy felt around your cock. Unable to help yourself, you start to rub your cock through your pants. You need a quick fix. Especially since both Seri and Jisoo are in the house and you don’t want either of them walking in on you. For a moment you consider watching your and Tiffany’s videos on her OF. But for that you’d have to start up your computer and log in and… You shake your head and take out your phone and open Instagram, while you take your pants off. After quickly searching for Tiffany’s account again, you reach her reels and scroll through them. It still feels unreal to you that you’re actually having sex with this woman. Yeji’s mother, an OF model, a woman from this neighborhood. 

“Oh, watch out.”

On your phone, Tiffany just walked into the camera, pretending it was a person. She lets two biology books fall to the ground. You notice them immediately. You have the same ones. Everyone in your class does. These must be Yeji’s. You never expected Tiffany to use her daughter’s school books to promote her OF content.

You can’t think about it too long, because a moment later, you take in the teacher look Tiffany is wearing. Her dark hair is tied in a slightly messy bun with a pencil sticking out of it. Her framed glasses only add to the slightly nerdy look. She didn’t close the last four buttons on her red blouse, which don’t just give you a perfect view of her cleavage, but also a glance of her black bra. 

“You better look where you’re going.”

You watch her smiling seductively as you stroke your cock. Tiffany steps back a little and turns around. Now the camera captures her whole body. The black high heels and the tight black leather pencil skirt complete her outfit. She bends over, showing off her clothed ass to the camera. You remember fucking Tiffany from behind. How her pussy gripped onto your cock while you were thrusting in and out. How her wet pussy lips clung to your cock as you pulled out. You can’t think straight and you miss the rest of the video as you finally orgasm. A bent over Tiffany and her tight wet pussy burn themself into your brain.

A week later you stand in your room, looking outside your window. A bad feeling is creeping up your spine and you can’t help but wonder if you overstepped a line. Jessica hasn't texted you since she caught you sneaking out and sleeping with you seemed to be more like a one time thing for Eunha. You expected her waiting for you at school to talk with you about it, but she treated you like she always does. But all that fades into the background when you think about Yeji. She hasn’t been at school for the past week. After your teacher asked if anyone knew something, Minju mentioned that Yeji was sick. You don’t believe it though, since you know the real reason. The fact that her mother seems to be doing porn got to her more than you would’ve thought. Although, it seems like you didn’t think at all. What exactly did you think was gonna happen? That Yeji would be a walking sunshine?

For the first time in your life, you feel kinda bad for her. Especially since Yeji doesn’t even know how many people in school know about her mother. It could be just you, or it could be her whole class, or even the entire school. You can understand why Yeji wouldn’t want to go to school ever again.

After taking a deep breath, you decide on acting, depending on her being present today. If she’s at class after the weekend, maybe she got better. If not, you might have to clean up your mess.

“Honey, we’re leaving!”

Your mom shouts from downstairs, interrupting your thoughts.

“Alright! Have a nice day!”

A couple of moments later, you see her and Seri walk towards her car. What would your mother say if she found out about what you did to Yeji? She’d be disappointed, that’s for sure. But Yeji had it coming. Her next move might have been equally vicious.

You lose your train of thought once more. But this time not because of your mother, but because of your phone. You grab it and check who texted you. A snap from Jessica. Your heart bats a little faster. You haven’t heard from her science she told you to leave and now she’s suddenly reaching out? You quickly open what she sent you.

Adrenaline rushes through your system. She finally wants you again. You’re surprised that you’ve been so anxious about Jessica. Maybe it’s because she is the only one who left you hanging? She didn’t let you cum and she never promised to get back to you. It was different with Tiffany, who agreed to having sex with you regularly and Yoona and Eunha, which you interpret as a one time thing.

The excitement is already getting into your head and you’re about to run over to her house, when you glance at the time. School is starting soon. You don’t even have half an hour. You hesitate, but only for a second. Who cares about school? You have the chance to sleep with your hot, sexy neighbour. School is the last thing you should be worried about right now.

You grab your backpack and gym bag and a minute later, you stand in front of the Jung family’s house. You know Eunha isn’t there, since she is always quite early at school. That’s probably why Jessica told you to come over now. She sent you the passcode of the electronic lock to her house as well, telling you to come up to her bedroom. Once you, you are greeted by Jessica, who is lying on her bed. Her robe is replaced by a one piece. She looks up when you stand in the door.

“Took you long enough.”

You hesitate, not sure what to do. Do you just walk up to her? Or wait for her to get up?

Before you can decide, Jessica rolls on her back and lifts her upper body off the bed while putting her weight on her arms. Her whole body is now facing you. You can’t help but glance at the outlines of her pussy lips, which barely stick out through the white fabric. Instead of saying anything, Jessica just nods towards her crotch and you understand what she wants from you.

You let your backpack glide off your shoulders, your gym bag joins a second later, and step towards her. Kneeling in front of the bed, you reach out and place both your hands on her thighs. Jessica places her feet on your shoulders, the white fabric of her socks slightly tickling your skin. Her slightly wet hair reveals that she probably took a shower before she called you over. You smell the hint of the shampoo she must have used. A mix of something flowery or fruity, but you can’t really put a finger on it. Granted, you’re kinda distracted by Jessica’s clothed pussy only being inches away from your face. But when you want to lean forward, you feel her feet pushing you away. Looking up at her, you can read from her face that this isn’t gonna be a quick in and out this time. You better take care of her properly. And of course you don’t mind. The longer you can spend time with Jessica in bed the better.

You start right at the hem of her socks. A soft kiss here, a soft kiss there. Slowly you make your way upwards along both her legs. Her smooth skin glistens in the shine of the room’s lights. As you keep going, she slightly bends her knees, now allowing you to lean forward. Reaching her thighs, you stop kissing her for a moment. Instead you place your tongue flat on her left thigh. You feel Jessica’s eyes on you and you slowly drag your tongue across her flawless skin, licking her thigh from the knee up to the hem of her one piece. A shaky breath escapes her lips when your tongue leaves her skin and you have to hold back a smile. It is one thing to be able to sleep with someone like Jessica, it’s another to make her gasp in pleasure as you now do the same to her other thigh. When you reach the white cloth once more, you return to her knees. Then you leave another trail of kisses along her thighs. By now you can tell who Jessica gets more into it. You feel her toes curling in anticipation against your shoulder as you move closer towards her core.

“Stop teasing already.”

Jessica’s voice sounds like a demand, but when you glance up at her, you catch her biting her lip, her eyes glued to your lips. After the first time you tried to make her cum, you read some stuff online. You were kinda embarrassed that you failed at making her cum by eating her out. Now you know the theoretical stuff to some degree. Why not give it a try now?

Instead of just straight up removing her clothes, you lean towards her core. You kiss her clothed pussy and you can smell the familiar scent already. After another kiss, you place your tongue right above her clit. Jessica lets out a sharp breath when you start to lick her pussy through the white fabric. Of course it doesn’t taste the same, but you can still taste a hint of her on the fabric. And the response you’re getting is definitely worth it. Jessica’s thighs close around your head as if she’s afraid you’d leave her hanging. You hear a loud moan escape her lips and after that a steady flow of sighs reaches your ears.The fabric soon becomes damp and then wet. Some of it is your spit, the other half Jessica’s juices. You can almost hear the surprise in her voice as another moan leaves her lips. She’s probably wondering how you improved this much after last time. 

A couple of minutes later you can tell by the shaking of her thighs around your head that Jessica is slowly falling apart. You feel a sense of pride as you continue to lick her pussy through the wet fabric.

“Oh my god.”

An unusual needy whine leaves her lips.

“Just eat my cunt already.” Her hand on your head emphasizes her point and so you finally push the part of her one piece that is in your way to the side. A satisfied gasp is your reward as you finally taste her juices straight from the source. And it only takes a couple of moments longer until you finally push Jessica over the edge.

She’s even more surprised than you are as she finds herself cuming in front of you. It doesn't feel the same as last time. Jessica feels a little vulnerable for some reason. As if she’s scared of you having this kind of power over her body. But at the same time she threatens to suffocate you with her thighs as she orgasms, her whines reaching a higher pitch. This new found vulnerability makes Jessica take the initiative as soon as she gets off her high. It’s like a rush of adrenaline for her. The fact that you, her neighbour, who’s barely half her age, is able to make her cum by just eating and licking her pussy. 

She pulls you upwards with both hands and your face glides along her body. You feel her tits press against your face for a moment and then you reach her own. Suddenly her lips find yours and you’re aware that you aren’t just lying on top of her, but also kissing her. Her tongue invades your mouth as she can taste herself on your lips. You feel Jessica working on your pants as she keeps her lips locked with yours. For some reason kissing her like this feels even more taboo than eating her out. But those thoughts, those thoughts about her cheating on her husband with you, are gone in a second when you feel Jessica take out your cock. Its tip immediately rests against her moist pussy lips as if it's just waiting to penetrate her waiting folds.

“Fuck me.”

Jesscia whispers into your mouth, barely breaking the kiss, your lips still locked.

“Fuck me good,”

You feel her thighs wrap around your waist. She pulls you in and your cock smoothly enters her tight cavern. The two of you moan into each other’s mouths. Your arms are supporting your weight as you basically lie on top of her. This the first time you've ever been so close to Jessica. You look into her eyes as you thrust in and out of her. It feels oddly intimate to you. It's nothing like the sex you had with Tiffany. It's more about actually taking care of her needs. It's about satisfying her. 

You keep on fucking her in this position. Deep hard thrusts, which make her moan again and again. The way her legs and arms cling to you makes you feel like she’s in control, despite you being the one on top. She keeps pulling you in, not intending to let go of you anytime soon.

“Keep going.”

She moans as you give her a particularly deep thrust. Jessica’s hands keep roaming your back as if she’s trying to find an outlet for her pleasure. One of them moves up to your shoulders as you continue to thrust into her.

“Don’t stop.”

She hisses and suddenly you feel her hand wrap around your throat. She isn’t applying pressure, but you can still feel it. 

“Fuck me like you mean it.”

Jessica slightly lifts her head, her mouth finding yours. You do your best to stay consistent with your deep, powerful thrusts, but you know you won’t be able to do this forever. When she bites your lip, you furrow your eyebrows in pain, but you still don’t stop. The fact that Jessica is already the third older woman in your neighborhood with which you are intimate with is getting to your head. Up until a couple of weeks ago you never even properly thought about sleeping with them, except for Tiffany. They were all far beyond your reach, especially since you know most of them since you were little. You know their daughters as well and yet here you are. Deep inside Jessica, who is clinging to you like a koala to a tree.

“God, you feel amazing.”

Jessica’s head rolls back as she slowly sinks herself down onto your cock. She’s now the one on top, her hand still wrapped around your throat. You have to admit that her hand doesn’t really turn you on. It’s more because of the position you’re in. You’ve never really felt this submissive before during sex. With Tiffany you quickly changed the script and became the one who used her. With Yoona you knew she was in control, but she was just pleasuring you. But now Jessica is just using you to get off, while she doesn’t let you take action. She rides you on her bed, pinning you to the mattress every time she impales herself on your cock.

When she slows down a little, you groan as you feel her moving back and forth instead of up and down. She keeps circling her hips, making your cock reach all kinds of places. Another groan follows your first. You didn’t expect her to be this good, but then again, she has way more experience than you do.

“It’s criminal that a boy like you has such a nice cock.”

Her moaned confession makes your body heat up. It’s not just about the words themselves, but also the way Jessica’s cold facade is slightly melting away. She’s still the dominant, rich neighbour. But you can tell how she’s releasing some of her pent up stress by letting it out on you.

“You feel so tight too.”

You try to make her a compliment, but to your surprise Jessica moves her hand from your throat to your mouth. Her fingers cover your lips as she now looks down on you.

“Just shut up.”

You stay silent, not even trying to complain. You don’t want to ruin this opportunity. And unlike Tiffany, you doubt that Jessica would appreciate it if you were to try to take control.

“You’re just a toy.”

Another moan leaves Jessica’s lips. 

You wonder if she’s just saying that because she’s cold, or because she’s trying to justify that she’s cheating on her husband. Either way, you lie basically motionless on the bed, while Jessica continues to ride you.

“My plaything. You do what I tell you to do.”

Jessica’s voice becomes a little higher as you feel her tightening around you. Her wet pussy glides along your shaft with ease and you can feel every inch of her insides. Her velvet walls seem to hug you as tight as possible as Jessica picks up the pace.

“Fuck, you’re such a good toy.”

Jessica moans again as she bounces on your dick.

Compared to other women you’ve been with already, Eunha’s mom is definitely less vocal. She doesn’t talk as much and she doesn’t moan or whine constantly. She’s just using you and doesn’t care about you being satisfied it seems.

Her hands hold onto your shoulders now as she quickens her pace, impaling herself on your cock over and over again. You can tell that she’s reaching her high by the way she’s breathing. Her pussy around your cock seems to become warmer. You feel how she’s moving her hips slightly to the sides as she bounces up and down, making your cock hit a different place every time. You’re surprised at how good it feels. To have no control at all, while Jessica just uses you for her pleasure. To have her take your cock like she wants to, without you having a say in it. 

“Oh, bloody hell!”

Jessica throws her head back as your dick hits the right spot for her. You feel her nails drag across your chest, leaving small scratch marks. Her hair behind her sways to the rhythm of her bounces. You watch her tits underneath her top move up and down as well. The sight of her bouncing tits and the feeling of her pussy around your cock eventually brings you close to the edge as well. You have to take Jessica’s sheets into your fists as you try to channel your pleasure into something else than climaxing. But you doubt that you’ll be able to hold on if Jessica now cums on top of you. 

What are you supposed to do when it does happen? Jessica didn’t tell you when or where to cum. Would she even let you cum inside of her? Or does she want it somewhere else? Or does she want your cum at all?

Your worries distract you enough to not orgasm while she keeps on riding you. To your surprise you realize that Jessica is slowing down. You were sure that she wasn’t that far away from her orgasm, so why is she stopping now?